{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_48448/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_48448","id":"gutenberg_48448","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/48448","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Modern (1750+)","Category: Journals","Category: Politics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Teaching & Education","Catholic Church -- Periodicals"],"text":"THE\n\n              CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n                     A\n\n             MONTHLY MAGAZINE\n\n                    OF\n\n      GENERAL LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.\n\n\n                VOL. XIII.\n         APRIL TO SEPTEMBER, 1871.\n\n\n                NEW YORK:\n      THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION HOUSE,\n             9 Warren Street.\n\n                  1871.\n\n\n             JOHN ROSS & CO.,\n        PRINTERS AND STEREOTYPERS,\n          27 ROSE ST., NEW YORK.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n      Albertus Magnus Vindicated, 712\n      America's Obligation to France, 836\n      Ancients, the Writing Materials of the, 126\n      Animas, Las, 353\n      Animals, Love for, 545\n\n      Bishop Timon, 86\n      Bordeaux, 158\n      Br\u00e9beuf, Memoir of Father John, 512, 623\n\n      Carlyle and P\u00e8re Bouhours, 820\n      Catholic Associations, Spirit of, 652\n      Catholicity and Pantheism, 554\n      Cayla, A Pilgrimage to, 595\n      Cecilia, Saint, 477\n      Church, The, Accredits herself, 145\n      Church, What our Municipal Laws owe to the, 342\n      Civilization, Origin of, 402\n\n      Dion and the Sibyls, 56\n      Do\u00f1a Fortuna and Don Dinero, 130\n      D\u00f6llinger, The Apostasy of, 415\n\n      Education and Unification, 1\n      Education, On Higher, 115\n      Egbert Stanway, 377\n      Egyptian Civilization according to the most Recent Discoveries, 804\n      England, The Serial Literature of, 619\n      Europe's Future, 76\n\n      Flowers, 305\n      Froude and Calvinism, 541\n      France, America's Obligation to, 836\n      Future, The Present and the, 452\n\n      Galitzin, The Mother of Prince, 367\n      Geneva, The Catholic Church in, 847\n      Genzano and Frascati, 737\n      Good Gerard of Cologne, The, 797\n      Gottfried von Strassburg's Hymn to the Virgin, 240\n\n      _Independent_, A Word to _The_, 247\n      Infallibility, 577\n      Ireland, Ancient Laws of, 635\n      Ireland, The Lord Chancellors of, 228\n      Irish Martyr, An, 433\n      Italian Guarantees and the Sovereign Pontiff, 566\n\n      Laws, Municipal, and the Church, 342\n      Letter from Rome, 134\n      Letter from the President of a College, 281\n      Liquefaction of the Blood of St. Januarius, 772\n      Locket, The Story of an Algerine, 643\n      Lourdes, Our Lady of, 98, 255, 396, 527, 662, 825\n      Lucas Garcia, 785\n\n      Mary Benedicta, 207\n      Mary Clifford's Promise Kept, 447\n      Mexican Art and its Michael Angelo, 334\n\n      On Higher Education, 115\n      Our Lady of Guadalupe, 189\n      Our Lady of Lourdes, 98, 255, 396, 527, 662, 825\n      Our Northern Neighbors, 108\n\n      Page of the Past and a Shadow of the Future, A, 764\n      Pantheism, Catholicity and, 554\n      Pau, 504\n      P\u00e8re Jacques and Mademoiselle Adrienne, 677\n      Present and the Future, The, 452\n      Protestantism, Statistics of, in the U. S., 195\n\n      Reformation, The, Not Conservative, 721\n      Rome, How it Looked Three Centuries Ago, 358\n      Rome, Letter from, 134\n\n      Saintship, False Views of, 424\n      Santa Restituta, Legend of, 276\n      Sardinia and the Holy Father, 289\n      Sauntering, 35\n      Sayings of the Fathers of the Desert, 274\n      Scepticism of the Age, The, 391\n      Secular, The, Not Supreme, 685\n      Shamrock Gone West, The, 264\n      Sor Juan Inez de la Cruz, 47\n      Spanish America, Dramatic Moralists in, 702\n      Statistics of Protestantism in the U. S., 195\n      St. Januarius, Liquefaction of the Blood of, 772\n\n      The Church Accredits Herself, 145\n\n      Unification, Education and, 1\n\n      What Our Municipal Laws Owe to the Church, 342\n      Writing Materials of the Ancients, 126\n\n      Yorke, The House of, 15, 169, 317, 461, 604, 746\n\n\nPOETRY.\n\n      \"Amen\" of the Stones, The, 168\n      A Pie IX., 684\n\n      Disillusioned, 489\n\n      Gualberto's Victory, 96\n\n      King Cormac's Choice, 413\n\n      On a Great Plagiarist, 206\n\n      Rose, The, 571\n\n      Saint John Dwarf, 357\n      Sancta Dei Genitrix, 771\n      Sonnet, 603\n      St. Francis and St. Dominic, 745\n      St. Francis of Assisi, 133\n      St. Mary Magdalen, 511\n\n      The Cross, 14\n      The True Harp, 594\n      To the Crucified, 352\n\n      Vespers, 275\n\n      Warning, The, 125\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n      Allies' St. Peter, 860\n      Anderson's Historical Reader, 855\n      Appleton's Annual Cyclop\u00e6dia, 573\n\n      Barker's Text-Book of Chemistry, 142\n      Bret Harte's Poems, 144\n\n      Caddell's Never Forgotten; or, The Home of the Lost Child, 853\n      Catechism Illustrated, The, 854\n      Clement's Hand-Book of Legendary and Mythological Art, 143\n      Coleridge's Theology of the Parables, 432\n      Conyngham's Sarsfield, 143\n      Curtius's History of Greece, 575\n      Cusack's History of Kerry, 855\n\n      Divine Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom, 573\n\n      Elia; or, Spain Fifty Years Ago, 141\n\n      Fairbanks's History of Florida, 857\n      Familiar Discourses to the Young, 288\n      Fifty Catholic Tracts, 430\n      Folia Ecclesiastica, 144\n\n      Gaskin's Irish Varieties, 142\n      Glosswood, The Countess of, 288\n\n      Hamilton's Golden Words, 860\n      Heaven, The Happiness of, 286\n      Hefele on the Christian Councils, 718\n      Hemenway's Vermont, 857\n      Higginson's Sympathy of Religions, 286\n      Holy Exercise of the Presence of God, 854\n      Holmes on Mechanism in Thought and Morals, 139\n      Historical Gazetteer, 857\n\n      Illustrated Catholic Sunday-School Library, 573\n\n      Jesus and Jerusalem, 140\n\n      Kellogg's Arthur Brown, 143\n      Keon's Dion and the Sibyls, 429\n\n      La Grange's Thecla, 432\n      Lallemant's Spiritual Doctrine, 287\n      Lebon's Holy Communion, 573\n      Life and Writings of De Montfort, 141\n      Life of St. Gertrude, 859\n\n      Martyrs Omitted by Foxe, 575\n      Meditations on the Litany of the Most Holy Virgin, 431\n      Miles's Truce of God, 574\n      Moran's Life of Archbishop Plunkett, 574, 858,\n      Mrs. Stowe's Pink and White Tyranny, 859\n      Mulrenan's Sketch of the Church on Long Island, 854\n\n      Natural History of New York, 432\n\n      Oakeley's Priest on the Mission, 719\n\n      Perrone's Divinity of Christ, 286\n\n      Rome and Geneva, 283\n      Russell's My Study Windows, 427\n\n      Seelye on Roman Imperialism, 141\n      Sestini's Manual of Geometrical Analysis, 856\n      Seton's Romance of the Charter Oak, 288\n      Starr's Patron Saints, 853\n      Stowe's Little Pussy Willow, 144\n      Sullivan's Prayers and Ceremonies of the Mass, 144\n      Synchronology of Sacred and Profane History, 144\n\n      Vaughan's Life of St. Thomas Aquin., 427\n\n      Weiss's American Religion, 720\n      West's State of the Dead, 574\n      Whipple's Literature and Art, 430\n      Wonders of European Art, 576\n      Wonders of the Heavens, 432\n\n      Young's Catholic Hymns and Canticles, 719\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 73.--APRIL, 1871.[1]\n\n\nUNIFICATION AND EDUCATION.[2]\n\n\nThe Hon. Henry Wilson, recently re-elected senator in Congress from\nMassachusetts, may not be distinguished as an original thinker or\nas a statesman of commanding ability, but no man is a surer index\nto his party or a more trustworthy exponent of its sentiments and\ntendencies, its aims and purposes. This gives to his article in\n_The Atlantic Monthly_, indicating the policy to be pursued by the\nRepublican party, a weight it might not otherwise possess.\n\nMr. Wilson is a strong political partisan, but he is above all\na fervent Evangelical, and his aim, we presume, is to bring his\npolitical party to coincide with his Evangelical party, and make each\nstrengthen the other. We of course, as a Catholic organ, have nothing\nto say of questions in issue between different political parties so\nlong as they do not involve the rights and interests of our religion,\nor leave untouched the fundamental principles and genius of the\nAmerican system of government, although we may have more or less to\nsay as American citizens; but when either party is so ill-advised\nas to aim a blow either at the freedom of our religion or at our\nfederative system of government, we hold ourselves free, and in duty\nbound, to warn our fellow-citizens and our fellow-Catholics of the\nimpending danger, and to do what we can to avert or arrest the blow.\nWe cannot, without incurring grave censure, betray by our silence the\ncause of our religion or of our country, for fear that by speaking we\nmay cross the purposes of one or another party, and seem to favor the\nviews and policy of another.\n\nMr. Wilson's _New Departure_ is unquestionably revolutionary,\nand therefore not lawful for any party in this country to adopt.\nIt is expressed in two words, NATIONAL UNIFICATION and NATIONAL\nEDUCATION--that is, the consolidation of all the powers of\ngovernment in the general government, and the social and religious\nunification of the American people by means of a system of universal\nand uniform compulsory education, adopted and enforced by the\nauthority of the united or consolidated states, not by the states\nseverally each within its own jurisdiction and for its own people.\nThe first is decidedly revolutionary and destructive of the American\nsystem of federative government, or the division of powers between a\ngeneral government and particular state governments; the second, in\nthe sense proposed, violates the rights of parents and annihilates\nthe religious liberty secured by the constitution and laws both of\nthe several states and of the United States.\n\nThe general government, in our American political system, is not the\nnational government, or any more national than the several state\ngovernments. The national government with us is divided between a\ngeneral government having charge of our relations with other powers\nand internal matters of a general nature and common to all the\nstates, and particular state governments having charge of matters\nlocal and particular in their nature, and clothed with all the powers\nof supreme national governments not expressly delegated to the\ngeneral government. In the draft of the federal constitution reported\nby the committee to the convention of 1787, the word _national_ was\nused, but the convention finally struck it out, and inserted wherever\nit occurred the word _general_, as more appropriately designating the\ncharacter and powers of the government they were creating. It takes\nunder our actual system both the state governments and the general\ngovernment to make one complete national government, invested with\nall the powers of government. By making the general government a\nsupreme national government, we make it the source of all authority,\nsubordinate the state governments to it, make them hold from it,\nand deprive them of all independent or undivided rights. This would\ncompletely subvert our system of government, according to which the\nstates hold their powers immediately from the political people, and\nindependently of any suzerain or overlord, and the general government\nfrom the states or the people organized as states united in\nconvention. A more complete change of the government or destruction\nof the federative principle, which constitutes the chief excellence\nand glory of our system, it would be difficult to propose, or even to\nconceive, than is set forth in Mr. Wilson's programme.\n\nMr. Wilson, however, is hardly justified in calling the revolution\nhe proposes a \"New Departure.\" It has been the aim of a powerful\nparty, under one name or another, ever since 1824, if not from\nthe origin of the government itself. This party has been steadily\npursuing it, and with increasing numbers and influence, ever since\nthe anti-slavery agitation seriously commenced. At one time, and\nprobably at all times, it has been moved chiefly by certain business\ninterests which it could not advance according to its mind by state\nlegislation, and for which it desired federal legislation and the\nwhole power of a national government, but which it could not get\nbecause the constitution and the antagonistic interests created by\nslave labor were opposed to it. It then turned philanthropist and\ncalled in philanthropy to its aid--philanthropy which makes light\nof constitutions and mocks at state lines, and claims the right\nto go wherever it conceives the voice of humanity calls it. Under\nthe pretext of philanthropy, the party turned abolitionist, and\nsought to bring under the action of the general government the\nquestion of slavery manifestly reserved to the states severally,\nand which it belonged to each to settle for itself in its own way.\nA civil war followed. The slaves were emancipated, and slavery\nabolished, professedly under the war-power of the Union, as a\nmilitary necessity, which nobody regrets. But the party did not\nstop here. Forgetful that the extraordinary war-power ceases with\nthe war, and military necessity can no longer be pleaded, it has,\nunder one pretext or another, such as protecting and providing for\nthe freed-men and reconstructing the states that seceded, continued\nto exercise it ever since the war was over, and by constitutional\namendments of doubtful validity, since ratified in part under\nmilitary pressure by states not yet reconstructed or held to be\nduly organized states in the Union, it has sought to legitimate it,\nand to incorporate it into the constitution as one of the ordinary\npeace-powers of the government.\n\nThe party has sometimes coincided, and sometimes has not strictly\ncoincided, with one or another of the great political parties\nthat have divided the country, but it has always struggled\nfor the consolidation of all the powers of government in the\ngeneral government. Whether prompted by business interests or by\nphilanthropy, its wishes and purposes have required it to get rid of\nall co-ordinate and independent bodies that might interfere with,\narrest, or limit the power of Congress, or impose any limitation on\nthe action of the general government not imposed by the arbitrary\nwill of the majority of the people, irrespective of their state\norganization.\n\nWhat the distinguished senator urges we submit, therefore, is simply\nthe policy of consolidation or centralization which his party has\nsteadily pursued from the first, and which it has already in good\npart consummated. It has abolished slavery, and unified the labor\nsystem of the Union; it has contracted a public debt, whether\nneedlessly or not, large enough to secure to the consolidation of\nthe powers of a national government in the general government the\nsupport of capitalists, bankers, railroad corporators, monopolists,\nspeculators, projectors, and the business world generally. Under\npretence of philanthropy, and of carrying out the abolition of\nslavery, and abolishing all civil and political distinctions of\nrace or color, it has usurped for the general government the power\nto determine the question of suffrage and eligibility, under the\nconstitution and by the genius of our government reserved to the\nstates severally, and sends the military and swarms of federal\ninspectors into the states to control, or at least to look after,\nthe elections, in supreme contempt of state authority. It has\nusurped for the general government the power of granting charters of\nincorporation for private business purposes elsewhere than in the\nDistrict of Columbia, and induced it to establish national bureaus\nof agriculture and education, as if it was the only and unlimited\ngovernment of the country, which it indeed is fast becoming.\n\nThe work of consolidation or unification is nearly completed, and\nthere remains little to do except to effect the social and religious\nunification of the various religions, sects, and races that make up\nthe vast and diversified population of the country; and it is clear\nfrom Mr. Wilson's programme that his party contemplate moulding the\npopulation of European and of African origin, Indians and Asiatics,\nProtestants and Catholics, Jews and pagans, into one homogeneous\npeople, after what may be called the New England Evangelical\ntype. Neither his politics nor his philanthropy can tolerate any\ndiversity of ranks, conditions, race, belief, or worship. A complete\nunification must be effected, and under the patronage and authority\nof the general government.\n\nMr. Wilson appears not to have recognized any distinction between\nunity and union. Union implies plurality or diversity; unity excludes\nboth. Yet he cites, without the least apparent misgiving, the fathers\nof the republic--Washington, Adams, Jefferson, Hamilton, Jay, and\nMadison--who were strenuous for the union of the several states, as\nauthorities in favor of their unity or consolidation in one supreme\nnational government. There were points in which these great men\ndiffered among themselves--some of them wished to give more, some of\nthem less, power to the general government--some of them would give\nmore, some of them less, power to the executive, etc., but they all\nagreed in their efforts to establish the union of the states, and not\none of them but would have opposed their unity or consolidation into\na single supreme government. Mr. Wilson is equally out in trying, as\nhe does, to make it appear that the strong popular sentiment of the\nAmerican people, in favor of union, is a sentiment in favor of unity\nor unification.\n\nBut starting with the conception of unity or consolidation, and\nresolving republicanism into the absolute supremacy of the will\nof the people, irrespective of state organization, Mr. Wilson can\nfind no stopping-place for his party short of the removal of all\nconstitutional or organic limitations on the irresponsible will of\nthe majority for the time, which he contends should in all things\nbe supreme and unopposed. His republicanism, as he explains it,\nis therefore incompatible with a well-ordered state, and is either\nno government at all, but universal anarchy, or the unmitigated\ndespotism of majorities--a despotism more oppressive and crushing to\nall true freedom and manly independence, than any autocracy that the\nworld has ever seen. The fathers of the republic never understood\nrepublicanism in this sense. They studied to restrict the sphere of\npower, and to guard against the supremacy of mere will, whether of\nthe monarch, the nobility, or the people.\n\nBut having reached the conclusion that true republicanism demands\nunification, and the removal of all restrictions on the popular\nwill, Mr. Wilson relies on the attachment of the American people to\nthe republican idea to carry out and realize his programme, however\nrepugnant it may be to what they really desire and suppose they\nare supporting. He knows the people well enough to know that they\ndo not usually discriminate with much niceness, and that they are\neasily caught and led away by a few high-sounding phrases and popular\ncatchwords, uttered with due gravity and assurance--perhaps he does\nnot discriminate very nicely, and is himself deceived by the very\nphrases and catchwords which deceive them. It is not impossible. At\nany rate, he persuades himself unification or consolidation can be\ncarried forward and effected by appeals to the republican instincts\nand tendencies of the American people, and secured by aid of the\ncolored vote and woman suffrage, soon to be adopted as an essential\nelement in the revolutionary movement. The colored people, it is\nexpected, will vote as their preachers direct, and their preachers\nwill direct as they are directed by the Evangelicals. The women\nwho will vote, if woman suffrage is adopted, are evangelicals,\nphilanthropists, or humanitarians, and are sure to follow their\ninstincts and vote for the unification or centralization of\npower--the more unlimited, the better.\n\nBut the chief reliance for the permanence in power of the party of\nconsolidation is universal and uniform compulsory education by the\ngeneral government, which will, if adopted, complete and preserve\nthe work of unification. Education is the American hobby--regarded,\nas uneducated or poorly educated people usually regard it, as a sort\nof panacea for all the ills that flesh is heir to. We ourselves,\nas Catholics, are as decidedly as any other class of American\ncitizens in favor of universal education, as thorough and extensive\nas possible--if its quality suits us. We do not, indeed, prize so\nhighly as some of our countrymen appear to do the simple ability to\nread, write, and cipher; nor do we believe it possible to educate\na whole people so that every one, on attaining his majority, will\nunderstand the bearing of all political questions or comprehend the\ncomplexities of statesmanship, the effects at large of all measures\nof general or special legislation, the bearing on productive industry\nand national wealth of this or that financial policy, the respective\nmerits of free trade and protection, or what in a given time or given\ncountry will the best secure individual freedom and the public good.\nThis is more than we ourselves can understand, and we believe we are\nbetter educated than the average American. We do not believe that\nthe great bulk of the people of any nation can ever be so educated\nas to understand the essential political, financial, and economical\nquestions of government for themselves, and they will always have to\nfollow blindly their leaders, natural or artificial. Consequently,\nthe education of the leaders is of far greater importance than the\neducation of those who are to be led. All men have equal natural\nrights, which every civil government should recognize and protect,\nbut equality in other respects, whether sought by levelling downward\nor by levelling upward, is neither practicable nor desirable. Some\nmen are born to be leaders, and the rest are born to be led. Go where\nwe will in society, in the halls of legislation, the army, the navy,\nthe university, the college, the district school, the family, we\nfind the few lead, the many follow. It is the order of nature, and\nwe cannot alter it if we would. Nothing can be worse than to try to\neducate all to be leaders. The most pitiable sight is a congressional\nbody in which there is no leader, an army without a general, but\nall lead, all command--that is, nobody leads or commands. The best\nordered and administered state is that in which the few are well\neducated and lead, and the many are trained to obedience, are willing\nto be directed, content to follow, and do not aspire to be leaders.\nIn the early days of our republic, when the few were better educated\nthan now and the many not so well, in the ordinary sense of the term,\nthere was more dignity in the legislative, judicial, and executive\nbranches of the government, more wisdom and justice in legislation,\nand more honesty, fidelity, and capacity in the administration. In\nextending education and endeavoring to train all to be leaders, we\nhave only extended presumption, pretension, conceit, indocility, and\nbrought incapacity to the surface.\n\nThese, we grant, are unpopular truths, but they, nevertheless, are\ntruths, which it is worse than idle to deny. Everybody sees it, feels\nit, but few have the courage to avow it in face of an intolerant and\ntyrannical public opinion. For ourselves, we believe the peasantry\nin old Catholic countries, two centuries ago, were better educated,\nalthough for the most part unable to read or write, than are the\ngreat body of the American people to-day. They had faith, they had\nmorality, they had a sense of religion, they were instructed in the\ngreat principles and essential truths of the Gospel, were trained to\nbe wise unto salvation, and they had the virtues without which wise,\nstable, and efficient government is impracticable. We hear it said,\nor rather read in the journals, that the superiority the Prussian\ntroops have shown to the French is due to their superior education.\nWe do not believe a word of it. We have seen no evidence that the\nFrench common soldiers are not as well educated and as intelligent as\nthe Prussian. The superiority is due to the fact that the Prussian\nofficers were better educated in their profession, were less\noverweening in their confidence of victory, and maintained better\nand severer discipline in their armies, than the French officers.\nThe Northern armies in our recent civil war had no advantage in the\nsuperior education of the rank and file over the Southern armies,\nwhere both were equally well officered and commanded. The _morale_\nof an army is no doubt the great thing, but it does not depend on\nthe ability of the common soldier to read, write, and cipher; it\ndepends somewhat on his previous habits and pursuits--chiefly on the\nofficers. Under the first Napoleon, the Prussians were not superior\nto the French, though as well educated. Good officers, with an able\ngeneral at their head, can make an efficient army out of almost any\nmaterials.\n\nIt is not, therefore, for political or military reasons that we\ndemand universal education, whether by the general government or\nunder the state governments. We demand it, as far as practicable,\nfor other and far higher reasons. We want it for a spiritual or\nreligious end. We want our children to be educated as thoroughly as\nthey can be, but in relation to the great purpose of their existence,\nso as to be fitted to gain the end for which God creates them. For\nthe great mass of the people, the education needed is not secular\neducation, which simply sharpens the intellect and generates pride\nand presumption, but moral and religious education, which trains up\nchildren in the way they should go, which teaches them to be honest\nand loyal, modest and unpretending, docile and respectful to their\nsuperiors, open and ingenuous, obedient and submissive to rightful\nauthority, parental or conjugal, civil or ecclesiastical; to know and\nkeep the commandments of God and the precepts of the church; and to\nplace the salvation of the soul before all else in life. This sort\nof education can be given only by the church or under her direction\nand control; and as there is for us Catholics only one church, there\nis and can be no proper education for us not given by or under the\ndirection and control of the Catholic Church.\n\nBut it is precisely education by the Catholic Church that Mr. Wilson\nand his party do not want, do not believe in, and wish to prevent\nus from having even for our own children. It is therefore they\ndemand a system of universal and uniform compulsory education by\nthe authority and under the direction of the general government,\nwhich shall effect and maintain the national unification proposed,\nby compelling all the children of the land to be trained in national\nschools, under Evangelical control and management. The end and aim\nof the _New Departure_, aside from certain business interests, is\nto suppress Catholic education, gradually extinguish Catholicity in\nthe country, and to form one homogeneous American people after the\nNew England Evangelical type. Of this there can be no reasonable\ndoubt. The Evangelicals and their humanitarian allies, as all their\norgans show, are seriously alarmed at the growth of Catholicity in\nthe United States. They supposed, at first, that the church could\nnever take root in our Protestant soil, that she could not breathe\nthe atmosphere of freedom and enlightenment, or thrive in a land of\nnewspapers and free schools. They have been disappointed, and now\nsee that they reckoned without their host, and that, if they really\nmean to prevent the American people from gradually becoming Catholic,\nthey must change fundamentally the American form of government,\nsuppress the freedom of religion hitherto enjoyed by Catholics, and\ntake the training of all children and youth into their own hands. If\nthey leave education to the wishes and judgment of parents, Catholic\nparents will bring up their children Catholics; if they leave it\nto the states separately, Catholics in several of them are already\na powerful minority, daily increasing in strength and numbers, and\nwill soon be strong enough to force the state legislatures to give\nthem their proportion of the public schools supported at the public\nexpense.\n\nAll this is clear enough. What, then, is to be done? Mr. Wilson, who\nis not remarkable for his reticence, tells us, if not with perfect\nfrankness, yet frankly enough for all practical purposes. It is to\nfollow out the tendency which has been so strengthened of late,\nand absorb the states in the Union, take away the independence of\nthe state governments, and assume the control of education for the\ngeneral government, already rendered practically the supreme national\ngovernment;--then, by appealing to the popular sentiment in favor of\neducation, and saying nothing of its quality, get Congress, which\nthe Evangelicals, through the party in power, already control, to\nestablish a system of compulsory education in national schools--and\nthe work is done; for these schools will necessarily fall into\nEvangelical hands.\n\nSuch is what the distinguished Evangelical senator from Massachusetts\ncalls a \"New Departure,\" but which is really only carrying out\na policy long since entered upon, and already more than half\naccomplished. While we are writing, Mr. Hoar, a representative\nin Congress from Massachusetts, has introduced into the House of\nRepresentatives a bill establishing a system of national education\nunder the authority of the general government. Its fate is not\nyet known, but no doubt will be, before we go to press. The\nprobabilities are that it will pass both Houses, and if it does, it\nwill receive the signature of the President as a matter of course.\nThe Evangelicals--under which name we include Congregationalists,\nPresbyterians, Dutch Reformed, Baptists, and Methodists, etc.--all\nthe denominations united in the Evangelical Alliance--constitute,\nwith their political and philanthropic allies, the majority in\nCongress, and the measure is advocated apparently by the whole\nEvangelical press and by the larger and more influential republican\njournals of the country, as any number of excerpts from them now\nbefore us will satisfy any one who has the curiosity to read them.\nWe did think of selecting and publishing the more striking and\nauthoritative among them, but we have concluded to hold them in\nreserve, to be produced in case any one should be rash enough to\nquestion our general statement. There is a strong popular feeling in\nmany parts of the country in favor of the measure, which is a pet\nmeasure also of the Evangelical ministers generally, who are sure to\nexert their powerful influence in its support, and we see no reason\nto doubt that the bill will pass.\n\nBut while we see ample cause for all citizens who are loyal to\nthe system of government which Providence enabled our fathers to\nestablish, and who wish to preserve it and the liberties it secures,\nto be vigilant and active, we see none for alarm. The bill, if\nit passes, will be manifestly unconstitutional, even counting\nthe Fourteenth and Fifteenth Amendments as valid parts of the\nconstitution; and there may be more difficulty in carrying it into\neffect than its framers anticipate. It is part and parcel of a New\nEngland policy, and New England is not omnipotent throughout the\nUnion, nor very ardently loved; not all the members of the several\nevangelical denominations will, when they understand it, favor the\nrevolution in the government Mr. Wilson would effect. There are in\nthose denominations many men who belong not to the dominant party,\nand who will follow their political rather than their denominational\naffinities; also, there are in them a large number, we should hope,\nof honest men, who are not accustomed to act on the maxim, \"the end\njustifies the means,\" loyal men and patriotic, who consider it no\nless disloyalty to seek to revolutionize our government against the\nstates than against the Union, and who will give their votes and all\ntheir influence to preserve the fundamental principles and genius of\nour federative system of government, as left us by our fathers, and\nresist, if need be, to the death the disloyal policy of unification\nand education proposed by Mr. Wilson.\n\nThe Southern states are reconstructed and back now in their place\nin the Union, and will not be much longer represented by Northern\nadventurers, or men of little ability and less character, but very\nsoon by genuine Southern men, who, while strictly loyal to the Union,\nwill speak the genuine sentiments of the Southern people. The attempt\nto New-Englandize the Southern people has not succeeded, and will not\nsucceed. When to the Southern people, who will never acquiesce in\nthe policy of unification, we add the large number of people in the\nNorthern states who from their political convictions and affinities,\nas well as from their conservative tendencies, will oppose\nconsolidation, we may feel pretty sure that the policy Mr. Wilson\npresents as that of the Republican party will not be adopted, or if\nadopted will not be permitted to stand. As not wholly inexperienced\nin political matters, and looking at the present state of parties and\ntemper of the nation, we should say that Mr. Wilson, as a party man,\nhas committed a blunder, and that, if he has fancied that his _New\nDeparture_ is fitted to strengthen his party as a political party,\nand to give it a new lease of power, he has miscalculated. Nothing\nin our judgment would be more fatal to the continuance of his party\nin power than for it boldly and unequivocally to accept Mr. Wilson's\nprogramme. There is such a thing as reaction in human affairs, and\nreactions are sometimes very powerful.\n\nThe educational question ought not to present any serious difficulty,\nand would not if our Evangelicals and humanitarians did not wish\nto make education a means of preventing the growth of the church\nand unmaking the children of Catholics, as Catholics; or if they\nseriously and in good faith would accept the religious equality\nbefore the state which the constitution and laws, both of the Union\nand the several states, as yet recognize and protect. No matter what\nwe claim for the Catholic Church in the theological order--we claim\nfor her in the civil order in this country only equality with the\nsects, and for Catholics only equal rights with citizens who are not\nCatholics. We demand the freedom of conscience and the liberty of our\nchurch, which is our conscience, enjoyed by Evangelicals. This much\nthe country in its constitution and laws has promised us, and this\nmuch it cannot deny us without breaking its faith pledged before the\nworld.\n\nAs American citizens, we object to the assumption of the control\nof education, or of any action in regard to it, by the general\ngovernment; for it has no constitutional right to meddle with it,\nand so far as civil government has any authority in relation to\nit, it is, under our system of government, the authority of the\nstates severally, not of the states united. We deny, of course,\nas Catholics, the right of the civil government to educate, for\neducation is a function of the spiritual society, as much so as\npreaching and the administration of the sacraments; but we do not\ndeny to the state the right to establish and maintain public schools.\nThe state, if it chooses, may even endow religion, or pay the\nministers of religion a salary for their support; but its endowments\nof religion, when made, are made to God, are sacred, and under the\nsole control and management of the spiritual authority, and the\nstate has no further function in regard to them but to protect the\nspirituality in the free and full possession and enjoyment of them.\nIf it chooses to pay the ministers of religion a salary, as has been\ndone in France and Spain, though accepted by the Catholic clergy\nonly as a small indemnification for the goods of the church seized\nby revolutionary governments and appropriated to secular uses, it\nacquires thereby no rights over them or liberty to supervise their\ndischarge of their spiritual functions. We do not deny the same or an\nequal right in regard to schools and school-teachers. It may found\nand endow schools and pay the teachers, but it cannot dictate or\ninterfere with the education or discipline of the school. That would\nimply a union of church and state, or, rather, the subjection of the\nspiritual order to the secular, which the Catholic Church and the\nAmerican system of government both alike repudiate.\n\nIt is said, however, that the state needs education for its own\nprotection, and to promote the public good or the good of the\ncommunity, both of which are legitimate ends of its institution.\nWhat the state needs in relation to its legitimate ends, or the ends\nfor which it is instituted, it has the right to ordain and control.\nThis is the argument by which all public education by the state is\ndefended. But it involves an assumption which is not admissible.\nThe state, having no religious or spiritual function, can give only\nsecular education, and secular education is not enough for the\nstate's own protection or its promotion of the public good. Purely\nsecular education, or education divorced from religion, endangers\nthe safety of the state and the peace and security of the community,\ninstead of protecting and insuring them. It is not in the power of\nthe state to give the education it needs for its own sake, or for\nthe sake of secular society. The fact is, though statesmen, and\nespecially politicians, are slow to learn it, and still slower to\nacknowledge it, the state, or secular society, does not and cannot\nsuffice for itself, and is unable to discharge its own proper\nfunctions without the co-operation and aid of the spiritual society.\nPurely secular education creates no civic virtues, and instead of\nfitting unfits the people for the prompt and faithful discharge of\ntheir civic duties, as we may see in Young America, and indeed in\nthe present active and ruling generation of the American people.\nYoung America is impatient of restraint, regards father and mother\nas old-fogies, narrow-minded, behind the age, and disdains filial\nsubmission or obedience to them, has no respect for dignities,\nacknowledges no superior, mocks at law if he can escape the police,\nis conceited, proud, self-sufficient, indocile, heedless of the\nrights and interests of others--will be his own master, and follow\nhis own instincts, passions, or headstrong will. Are these the\ncharacteristics of a people fitted to maintain a wise, well-ordered,\nstable, and beneficent republican government? Or can such a people be\ndeveloped from such youngerlings? Yet with purely secular education,\nhowever far you carry it, experience proves that you can get nothing\nbetter.\n\nThe church herself, even if she had full control of the education\nof all the children in the land, with ample funds at her command,\ncould not secure anything better, if, as the state, she educated\nfor a secular end alone. The virtues needed for the protection of\nthe state and the advancement of the public or common good, are and\ncan be secured only by educating or training the children and youth\nof a nation not for this life as an end, but for the life to come.\nHence our Lord says, \"Seek first the kingdom of God and his justice,\nand all these things shall be added unto you.\" The church does not\neducate for the secular order as an end, but for God and heaven; and\nit is precisely in educating for God and heaven that she secures\nthose very virtues on which the welfare and security of the secular\norder depend, and without which civil society tends inevitably to\ndissolution, and is sustained, if sustained at all, only by armed\nforce, as we have seen in more than one European nation which has\ntaken education into its own hand, and subordinated it to secular\nends. The education needed by secular society can be obtained only\nfrom the spiritual society, which educates not for this world, but\nfor the world to come. The virtues needed to secure this life are\nobtained only by seeking and promoting the virtues which fit us for\neternal life.\n\nThis follows necessarily from the fact that man is created with a\nspiritual nature and for an immortal destiny. If he existed for this\nlife only, if he were, as some sciolists pretend, merely a monkey or\na gorilla developed, or were like the beasts that perish, this indeed\nwould not and could not follow, and the reconciliation of the nature\nand destiny of man with uniform human experience would be impossible.\nWe should be obliged, in order to secure the peace and good order\nof society, as some unbelieving statesmen do not blush to avow, to\neducate in view of a falsehood, and take care to keep up the delusion\nthat man has a religious nature and destiny, or look to what is false\nand delusive for the virtues which can alone save us from anarchy and\nutter barbarism. Yet what would serve the delusion or the falsehood,\nif man differs not by nature from the dog or the pig? But if man\nhas really a spiritual nature and an immortal destiny, then it must\nnecessarily follow that his real good can in no respect be obtained\nbut in being educated and trained to live for a spiritual life, for\nan immortal destiny. Should not man be educated according to his\nspiritual nature and destiny, not as a pig or a monkey? If so, in his\neducation should not the secular be subordinated to the spiritual,\nand the temporal to the eternal? We know well, experience proves it,\nthat even the secular virtues are not secured when sought as the end\nof education and of life, but only in educating and living for that\nwhich is not secular, and in securing the virtues which have the\npromise of the life of the world to come.\n\nAll education, as all life, should be religious, and all education\ndivorced from religion is an evil, not a good, and is sure in the\nlong run to be ruinous to the secular order; but as a part of\nreligious education, and included in it, secular education has its\nplace, and even its necessity. Man is not all soul, nor all body,\nbut the union of soul and body; and therefore his education should\ninclude in their union, not separation--for the separation of soul\nand body is the death of the body--both spiritual education and\nsecular. It is not that we oppose secular education when given in\nthe religious education, and therefore referred to the ultimate end\nof man, but when it is given alone and for its own sake. We deny\nthe competency of the state to educate even for its own order, its\nright to establish purely secular schools, from which all religion\nis excluded, as Mr. Webster ably contended in his argument in the\nGirard will case; but we do not deny, we assert rather, its right to\nestablish public schools under the internal control and management of\nthe spiritual society, and to exact that a certain amount of secular\ninstruction be given along with the religious education that society\ngives. This last right it has in consideration of the secular funds\nfor the support of the schools it furnishes, and as a condition on\nwhich it furnishes them.\n\nLet the state say distinctly how much secular education in the public\nschools it exacts, or judges to be necessary for its own ends, and so\nfar as the Catholic Church has anything to do with the matter it can\nhave it. The church will not refuse to give it in the schools under\nher control. She will not hesitate to teach along with her religion\nany amount of reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography,\nmusic, and drawing, or the sciences and the fine arts, the state\nexacts and provides for; nor will she refuse to allow it to send,\nif it chooses, its own inspectors into her schools to ascertain if\nshe actually gives the secular education required. Let it say, then,\nwhat amount of secular education it wants for all the children of\nthe land, and is willing to pay for, and, so far as Catholics are\nconcerned, it can have it, and of as good quality, to say the least,\nas it can get in purely secular schools, and along with it the\nreligious education, the most essential to it as well as to the souls\nof all.\n\nBut the difficulty here, it is assumed, is that the spiritual\nsociety with us is divided into various denominations, each with its\ndistinctive views of religion. That, no doubt, is a damage, but can\nbe easily overcome by bearing in mind that the several divisions\nhave equal rights, and by making the public schools denominational,\nas they are in Prussia, Austria, France, and to a certain extent in\nEngland, where denominational diversities obtain as well as with\nus. Where the community is divided between different religious\ndenominations, all standing on a footing of perfect equality before\ncivil society, this is the only equitable system of public schools\nthat is practicable. If the state does not adopt it, it must--1, let\nthe whole business of education alone, and make no public provision\nfor it; 2, establish purely secular, that is, godless schools,\nfrom which all religion is excluded, to which no religious people\ncan be expected to consent, and which would ruin both public and\nprivate virtue, and defeat the very purpose of all education; or,\n3, it must practically, if not theoretically, recognize some one\nof the several denominations as the state religion, and remit the\neducation of childhood and youth to its management and control, as\nis virtually the case with our present public schools, but which\nwould be manifestly unjust to all the others--to non-evangelicals, if\nevangelicalism is made the state religion, or to the Evangelicals,\nif a non-evangelical denomination be established as the religion of\nthe state. The only way to be just to all is, as everybody can see,\nto recognize in practice as well as in profession the equal rights\nof all denominations in the civil order--make the public schools\ndenominational, and give to each denomination that asks it for the\nsake of conscience its fair and honest proportion, to be as to their\ninternal economy, education, and discipline under its sole control\nand management.\n\nMr. Wilson proposes for our admiration and imitation the Prussian\nsystem of public schools, and though we do not know that it is\nsuperior to the Austrian or even the French system, yet we think\nhighly of it. But, what the Evangelical senator does not tell us,\nthe Prussian system is strictly the denominational system, and each\ndenomination is free and expected to educate in its own schools its\nown children, under the direction of its pastors and teachers,\nin its own religion. The Prussian system recognizes the fact that\ndifferent communions do exist among the Prussian people, and does\nnot aim to suppress them or at unification by state authority. It\nmeets the fact as it is, without seeking to alter it. Give us the\nPrussian system of denominational schools, and we shall be satisfied,\neven if education is made compulsory. We, of course, protest against\nany law compelling us to send our children to schools in which our\nreligion cannot be freely taught, in which no religion is taught, or\nin which is taught in any shape or degree a religion which we hold to\nbe false or perilous to souls. Such a law would violate the rights\nof parents and the freedom of conscience; but with denominational\nschools compulsory education would violate no one's conscience and\nno parental right. Parents ought, if able, to have their children\neducated, and if they will not send their children to schools\nprovided for them by the public, and in which their religion is\nrespected, and made the basis of the education given, we can see no\nvalid reason why the law should not compel them. The state has the\nright, perhaps the duty, in aid of the spiritual society and for its\nown safety and the public good, to compel parents to educate their\nchildren when public schools of their own religion, under the charge\nof their own pastors, are provided for them at the public expense.\nLet the public schools be denominational, give us our proportion of\nthem, so that no violence will be done to parental rights or to the\nCatholic conscience, and we shall be quite willing to have education\nmade compulsory, and even if such schools are made national, though\nwe should object as American citizens to them, we should as Catholics\naccept them. We hold state authority is the only constitutional\nauthority under our system to establish schools and provide for them\nat the public expense; but we could manage to get along with national\ndenominational schools as well as others could. We could educate in\nour share of the public schools our own children in our own way, and\nthat is all we ask. We do not ask to educate the children of others,\nunless with the consent or at the request of parents and guardians.\n\nThe Prussian system of denominational schools could be introduced\nand established in all the states without the least difficulty,\nif it were not for Evangelicals, their Unitarian offshoots, and\ntheir humanitarian allies. These are religious and philanthropic\nbusybodies, who fancy they are the Atlas who upholds the world,\nand that they are deputed to take charge of everybody's affairs,\nand put them to rights. But they forget that their neighbors have\nrights as well as themselves, and perhaps intentions as honest and\nenlightened, and as much real wisdom and practical sagacity. The\nonly obstacle to the introduction and establishment of a just and\nequitable system of public schools comes from the intolerant zeal of\nthese Evangelicals, who seek to make the public schools an instrument\nfor securing the national, social, and religious unification they\nare resolved on effecting, and for carrying out their purpose of\nsuppressing the church and extirpating Catholicity from American\nsoil. They want to use them in training our children up in the way of\nEvangelicalism, and moulding the whole American population into one\nhomogeneous people, modelled, as we have said, after the New England\nEvangelical type. Here is the difficulty, and the whole difficulty.\nThe denominational system would defeat their darling hope, their pet\nproject, and require them to live and let live. They talk much about\nfreedom of conscience and religious liberty and equal rights; but the\nonly equal rights they understand are all on their side, and they\ncherish such a tender regard for religious liberty, have so profound\na respect for it, that they insist, like our Puritan forefathers, on\nkeeping it all to themselves, and not to suffer it to be profaned or\nabused by being extended to others.\n\nPrussia, though a Protestant country, does not dream of making the\npublic schools a machine either for proselytism or unification.\nShe is contented to recognize Catholics as an integral part of her\npopulation, and to leave them to profess and practise their own\nreligion according to the law of their church. Our Evangelicals would\ndo well to imitate her example. We Catholics are here, and here we\nintend to remain. We have as much right to be here as Evangelicals\nhave. We are too many to be massacred or exiled, and too important\nand influential a portion of the American people to be of no account\nin the settlement of public affairs. We have votes, and they will\ncount on whichever side we cast them; and we cannot reasonably be\nexpected to cast them on the side of any party that is seeking to\nuse its power as a political party to suppress our church and our\nreligion, or even to destroy our federative system of government, and\nto leave all minorities at the mercy of the irresponsible majority\nfor the time, with no other limit to its power than it sees proper to\nimpose on itself; for we love liberty, and our church teaches us to\nbe loyal to the constitution of our country.\n\nThe wisest course, since there are different religious denominations\nin the country, is to accept the situation, to recognize the fact,\nacquiesce in it, and make the best of it. Any attempt to unmake,\nby the direct or indirect authority of the state, Catholics of\ntheir faith or any denomination of its belief, is sure to fail.\nEach denomination is free to use Scripture and reason, logic and\ntradition, all moral and intellectual weapons, against its rivals,\nand with that it should be contented. Whatever may be the rightful\nclaims of the church in the theological order, she is contented with\nthe civil protection of her equal rights in the political order. She\nasks--with the wealth, the fashion, the public opinion, the press,\nnine-tenths of the population of the country, and the seductions\nof the world against her--only \"an open field and fair play.\" If\nshe does not complain, her enemies ought to be satisfied with the\nadvantages they have.\n\nWe have entered our protest against a party programme which threatens\nalike the genius of the American government and the freedom of\nreligion, for so much was obviously our duty, both as Catholics and\ncitizens. We are aware of the odds against us, but we have confidence\nin our countrymen that, though they may be momentarily deceived\nor misled, they will, when the real character of the programme we\nhave exposed is once laid open to them, reject it with scorn and\nindignation, and hasten to do us justice.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[2] _New Departure of the Republican Party._ By Henry Wilson. _The\nAtlantic Monthly_, Boston, January, 1871.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CROSS.\n\n\n      In weary hours to lonely heights\n        When thou hast travelled sore,\n      A sorrowing man hath borne his cross\n        And gone thy way before.\n\n      Thine eyes cannot escape the sign\n        On every hand that is\n      Of him who bore the general woe,\n        Nor knew a common bliss.\n\n      But men, remembering his face,\n        Dreamed of him while they slept,\n      And the mother by the cradle side\n        Thought of his eye, and wept.\n\n      Now haunts the world his ghost whose fate\n        Made all men's fates his own;\n      So for the wrongs of modest hearts\n        A myriad hearts atone.\n\n      Oh! deeply shall thy spirit toil\n        To reach the height he trod,\n      And humbly strive thy soul to know\n        Its servant was its God.\n\n      Only earth's martyr is her lord;\n        Such is the gain of loss:\n      And, looking in all hearts, I see\n        The signal of the cross.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nGENEALOGIES.\n\nUnder a thickly-branched tree in the northern part of one of the\nsouthern counties of Maine is a certain gray rock, matted over with\ndim green lichens that are spotted with dead gold. From under this\nrock springs a sparkling little stream. It is no storied fountain,\nrich with legends of splendor, poetry, and crime, but a dear, bright\nlittle Yankee brook, with the world all before it. That world it\nimmediately proceeds to investigate. It creeps through thready\ngrasses and russet pine-needles; it turns aside, with great respect,\nfor a stone no larger than a rabbit; and when a glistening pitchy\ncone drops into it, the infant river labors under the burden. When\nthe thirsty fawn comes there to drink, nearly the whole rivulet flows\ndown its throat, and the cone is stranded high and dry; what there\nis left flows southward. A sunbeam pierces the scented gloom, creeps\ndown a tree-trunk, steals over a knoll of green-and-brown tree-moss,\nwhich then looks like a tiny forest on fire, over yellow violets,\nwhich dissolve in its light, over a bank of rich dark mould veined\nwith the golden powder of decayed pine-trees, moist and soft, and\nfull of glistening white roots, where the flowers push down their\npearly feet. Over the bank, into the water, goes the sunbeam, and the\ntwo frolic together, and the stream dives under the gnarled roots,\nso that its playmate would believe it lost but for that gurgle of\nlaughter down in the cool, fresh dark. Then it leaps up, and spreads\nitself out in a mirror, and the elder-tree, leaning over to look at\nthe reflection of its fan-like leaves and clusters of white flowers,\ngets very erroneous ideas concerning its own personal appearance;\nfor the palpitating rings that chase each other over the surface of\nthe water make the brown stems crinkle, the leaves come to pieces\nand unite again, and the many flowers in each round cluster melt all\ntogether, then twinkle out individually, only to melt again into that\nbloomy full moon. Over this shimmer of flowers and water big bees\nfly, buzzing terribly, dragon-flies dart, or hang, purple-mailed,\nglittering creatures, with gauzy wings, and comical insects dance\nthere, throwing spots of sunshine instead of shadow down to the leafy\nbed. Then the brook flows awhile in a green tranquil shadow, till,\nreaching the interlaced roots of two immense trees that hold a bank\nbetween them, it makes a sudden, foamy plunge the height of a stag's\nfront. She is a bride then, you may say--she is Undine, looking\nthrough that white veil, and thinking new thoughts.\n\nNow the bear comes down to drink and look at his ugly face in the\ndeepening wave, foxes switch their long tails about the banks, deer\ncome, as light-footed as shadows, drink, and fling up their short\ntails, with a flit of white, and trot away with a little sniff, and\ntheir heads thrown back, hearing the howl or the long stride of the\nwolf in pursuit. Rabbits come there, and squirrels leap and nibble in\nthe branches above. Besides, there are shoals of pretty, slim fishes.\n\nSo through the mellow gloom and sunny sparkle of the old forest, the\nclear brook wanders, growing wiser, and talking to itself about many\nthings.\n\nPresently the wild creatures withdraw, sunburnt children wade across\nfrom bank to bank, grassy clearings abound, there are farm-houses,\nand cows with tinkling bells; and then comes a bridge, and boats\ndance upon the water, and the stream is a river! Alas for the Indian\nname it brought up out of the earth with it, and lisped and gurgled\nand laughed to itself all the way down--the name spiked with _k_'s\nand choky-looking _gh_'s, rough to the eye, but sweet in the mouth,\nlike a hazel-nut in the burr. The white settlers have changed all\nthat.\n\nNow, indeed, the young river puts on state, and lets people see that\nit is not to be waded through; and when they build a dam across,\nit flows grandly over, in a smooth, wine-colored curve. Times are\nchanged, indeed, since the little gray birds with speckled breasts\nlooked with admiration at its first cascade, since the bear, setting\ndown his great paw, clumsily splashed the whole stream up over\nhis shaggy leg. There are farms to keep up appearances before,\nmill-wheels to turn, and ships to bear up. Pine-cones, indeed!\nBesides, a new and strange experience has come to it, and its bosom\npulses daily with the swelling of the tides. And here one village\nstreet, with white houses, follows its course a mile or so, and\nanother street with white houses comes down to its bank from the\nwest, crosses over, and goes up eastward. This town, with its two\nprincipal streets forming a cross near the mouth of the river, a\nwhite cross at the end of a silver chain--shall we call it Seaton?\nIt is a good enough name. And the river shall be Seaton River, and\nthe bay into which it flows shall be Seaton Bay. But the ocean that\nmakes the bay, and drinks the river, shall be Atlantic still.\n\nWe have spoken!\n\nWe follow the road that follows the stream on its eastern bank, cross\nWest Street, get into a poor, dwindling neighborhood, leave the\nhouses nearly all behind, go over two small, ill-conditioned hills,\nand find at our right a ship-yard with wharves, at our left a dingy\nlittle cottage, shaped like a travelling-trunk, and not much larger\nthan some. It stands with its side toward the dusty road, a large,\nlow chimney rises from the roof, there is a door with a window at\neach side of it. One can see at a glance from the outside how this\nhouse is divided. It has but two rooms below, with a tiny square\nentry between, and a low attic above. Each room has three windows,\none on each of the three outer walls.\n\nThe kitchen looked toward the village through its north window.\nOpposite that was a large fireplace with an ill-tempered, crackling\nfire of spruce-wood, throwing out sparks and splinters. It was April\nweather, and not very warm yet. In the chimney-corner sat Mr. Rowan,\nsulkily smoking his pipe, his eyes fixed on the chimney-back. He\nwas a large, slouching man, with an intelligent face brutalized by\nintemperance. Drunkard was written all over him, in the scorched\nblack hair, not yet turning gray, in the dry lips, bloated features,\nand inflamed eyes. He sat in his shirt-sleeves, waiting impatiently\nwhile his wife put a patch in his one coat. Mrs. Rowan, a poor,\nfaded, little frightened woman, whom her female acquaintances called\n\"slack,\" sat near the south window, wrinkling her brows anxiously\nover the said patch, which was smaller than the hole it was destined\nto fill. The afternoon sunshine spread a golden carpet close to\nher feet. In the light of it one could see the splinters in the\nmuch-scoured floor, and a few fraggles in the hem of Mrs. Rowan's\ncalico gown.\n\nAt the eastern window sat Edith Yorke, eleven years of age, with a\nlarge book on her knees. Over this book, some illustrated work on\nnatural history, she had been bending for an hour, her loose mop of\ntawny hair falling each side of the page. So cloistered, her profile\nwas invisible; but, standing in front of her, one could see an oval\nface with regular features full of calm earnestness. Bright, arched\nlips, and a spirited curve in the nostrils, saved this face from the\ncold look which regular features often give. The large, drooping\neyelids promised large eyes, the forehead was wide and not high, the\nbrows long, slightly arched, and pale-brown in color, and the whole\nface, neck, hands, and wrists were tanned to a light quadroon tint.\nBut where the coarse sleeve had slipped up was visible an arm of\ndazzling whiteness. Outside the window, and but two rods distant,\nhung a crumbling clay bank, higher than the house, with a group of\nfrightened alder-bushes looking over the top, and holding on with all\ntheir roots. Some day, in spite of their grip--the sooner, perhaps,\nbecause of its stress--the last frail hold was to be loosed, and the\nbushes were to come sliding down the bank, faster and faster, to\npitch headlong into the mire at the bottom, with a weak crackling of\nall their poor doomed branches.\n\nPresently the child looked up, with lights coming and going in\nher agate-colored eyes. \"How wonderful frogs are!\" she exclaimed\ninvoluntarily.\n\nThere was no reply.\n\nShe glanced at her two companions, scarcely conscious of them, her\nmind full of something else. \"But everything is wonderful, when you\ncome to think of it,\" she pursued dreamily.\n\nMr. Rowan took the pipe from his mouth, turned his forbidding face,\nand glowered at the girl. \"You're a wonderful fool!\" he growled; then\nresumed his pipe, feeling better, apparently, for that expression\nof opinion. His wife glanced up, furtive and frightened, but said\nnothing.\n\nEdith looked at the man unmoved, saw him an instant, then, still\nlooking, saw him not. After a while she became aware, roused herself,\nand bent again over the book. Then there was silence, broken only by\nthe snapping of the fire, the snip of Mrs. Rowan's scissors, and the\nlame, one-sided ticking of an old-fashioned clock on the mantelpiece.\n\nAfter a while, as the child read, a new thought struck up. \"That's\njust like! Don't you think\"--addressing the company--\"Major\nCleaveland said yesterday that I had lightning-bugs in my eyes!\"\n\nWithout removing his pipe, Mr. Rowan darted an angry look at his\nwife, whose face became still more frightened. \"Dear me!\" she said\nfeebly, \"that child is an idjut!\"\n\nThis time the long, fading gaze dwelt on the woman before it went\nback to the book again. But the child was too closely ensphered in\nher own life to be much, if at all, hurt. Besides, she was none of\ntheirs, nor of their kind. Her soul was no dying spark struggling\nthrough ashes, but a fire, \"alive, and alive like to be,\" as children\nsay when they wave the fire-brand, winding live ribbons in the air;\nand no drop of their blood flowed in her veins.\n\nThe clock limped over ten minutes more, and the patch was got into\nits place, after a fashion, botched somewhat, with the knots on the\noutside. Mr. Rowan took the coat, grumbled at it, put it on, and\nwent out, glancing back at the child as he opened the door. She was\nlooking after him with an expression which he interpreted to mean\naversion and contempt. Perhaps he mistook. May be she was wondering\nat him, what sort of strange being he was. Edith Yorke was very\ncurious regarding the world she had got into. It seemed to her a\nqueer place, and that she had at present not much concern in it.\n\nHer husband out of the way, Mrs. Rowan took her knitting-work, and\nstood a moment at the north window, gazing up toward the town, with a\nfar-away look of blunted expectancy, as if she had got in the habit\nof looking for help which never came. Then she drew a long sigh,\nthat also a habit, and, resuming her chair, began to knit and to\nrock herself, letting her mind, what there was left of it, swing to\nand fro, unmeaningly and miserably, to the sound of the clock as it\nticked. \"O dear! O dear!\"--that was what the ticking always said to\nthis poor soul. As she sat, the afternoon sun, sinking lower, crept\nabout her feet, climbed to her lap, got hold of her knitting, and ran\nin little bright flashes along the needles, and snapped off in sparks\nat the ends, so that she seemed to be knitting sunshine.\n\nThis woman was what remained at forty of a pretty, flaxen-haired\ngirl of eighteen, who had captivated handsome Dick Rowan, for he\nhad been handsome. A faded rag of a woman she was, without hope or\nspirit, all the color and life washed out of her in a bitter rain\nof tears. The pink cheeks had faded, and only the ghost remained of\nthat dimple that had once seemed to give meaning to her smiles. The\ncurly hair was dry and thin, and had an air of chronic untidiness.\nThe blue-gray eyes were dim and heavy, the teeth were nearly all\ngone. The pretty, chirping ways that had been captivating when youth\ncovered their silliness--oh! where had they gone? She was a weak,\nbroken-hearted, shiftless little woman, and her husband hated her. He\nfelt wronged and cheated by her. He was more disappointed than Ixion,\nfor in this cloud there had never even been a goddess. If she had\nsometimes turned upon him, when he acted like a brute, and scorned\nhim for it, he would have liked her better; but she shrank, and\ncowered, and trembled, made him feel himself ten times the brute she\ndared not call him, yet gave him nothing to resent. \"Gentle, is she?\"\nhe cried out once in a rage. \"She is not! She is weak and slavish. A\nperson cannot be gentle who cannot be something else.\"\n\nSo the poor woman suffered, and got neither pity nor credit from the\none who caused her suffering. It was hard; and yet, she was nobler\nin her misery than she would have been in happiness. For sorrow gave\nher now and then a touch of dignity; and when, stung with a sudden\nperception of her own nothingness, she flung her desperate hands\nupward, and called upon God to deliver her, a certain tragical power\nand beauty seemed to wrap her round. Mrs. Rowan happy would have been\na trivial woman, meaning no great harm, because meaning no great\nanything; but the fiery furnace of pain had scorched her up, and what\nremained was pure.\n\nWhen the two were alone, Edith dropped her book, and looked across\nthe room at her companion. Mrs. Rowan, busy with her own sad\nthoughts, took no notice of her, and presently the child glanced\npast her, and out the window. The view was not bad. First came\nthe dusty road, then the ship-yard, then the river sparkling, but\nrather the worse for sawdust and lath-edgings that came down from\nthe lumber-mills above the village. But here all that was sordid\ncame to an end. The meanness and misery on the hitherward bank were\nlike witches, who cannot cross running water. From the opposite bank\nrose a long, grassy hill, unmarred by road or fence. In summer-time\nyou could see from far away the pinkness of the wild-roses that had\nseen fit to bind with a blooming cestus the dented waist of this\nhill. Behind them was a green spray of locust and laburnum trees,\nthen dense round tops of maples, and elms in graceful groups,\nhalf-hiding the roofs and gables of Major Cleaveland's house--the\ngreat house of the village, as its owner was the great man. Behind\nthat was a narrow rim of pines and spruces, making the profile of\nan enchanted city against the horizon, and above that a vast hollow\nof unobstructed sky. In that space the sunsets used to build their\njasper walls, and calm airs stretch long lines of vapor across, till\nthe whole west was a stringed instrument whereon a full symphony of\ncolors played good-night to the sun. There the west wind blew up\nbubbles of wry cloud, and the new moon put forth her gleaming sickle\nto gather in the sheaf of days, a never-failing harvest, through\nstorm and sunshine, hoar-frost and dew. There the pearly piles of\ncumuli used to slumber on summer afternoons, lightnings growing in\ntheir bosoms to flash forth at evening; and there, when a long storm\nended with the day, rose the solid arch of cerulean blue. When it had\nreached a certain height, Edith Yorke would run into the south room,\nand look out to see the rainbow suspend its miraculous arch over\nthe retreating storm. This little girl, to whom everything was so\nwonderful when she came to think of it, was a dear lover of beauty.\n\n\"O dear! O dear!\" ticked the clock; and the barred sunshine turned\nslowly on the floor, as if the ugly little house were the hub of a\nhuge, leisurely wheel of gold.\n\nEdith dropped her book, and went to Mrs. Rowan's side, taking a stool\nwith her, and sitting down in the midst of the sunshine.\n\n\"I'm afraid I shall forget my story, Mrs. Jane, unless I say it over\nagain,\" she said. \"And, you know, mamma told me never to forget.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan roused herself, glad of anything which could take her mind\nfrom her own troubles. \"Well, tell it all over to me now,\" she said.\n\"I haven't heard it this long time.\"\n\n\"Will you be sure to correct me if I am wrong?\" the child asked\nanxiously.\n\n\"Yes, I will. But don't begin till I have taken up the heel of this\nstocking.\"\n\nThe stitches were counted and evened, half of them taken off on to a\nthread, and the other half, with the seam-stitch in the middle, knit\nbackward once. Then Edith began to repeat the story confided to her\nby her dead mother.\n\n\"My grandpapa and grandmamma were Polish exiles. They had to leave\nPoland when Aunt Marie was only a year old, and before mamma\nwas born. They couldn't take their property with them, but only\njewels, and plate, and pictures. They went to Brussels, and there\nmy mamma was born, and the queen was her godmother, and sent the\nchristening-robe. Mamma kept the robe till she grew up; but when\nshe was in America, and was poor, and wanted to go to a party, she\ncut it up to make the waist and sleeves of a dress. Poverty is no\ndisgrace, mamma said, but it is a great inconvenience. By-and-by,\nthey left Brussels, and went to England. Grandpapa wanted some way to\nget money to live on, for they had sold nearly all their pictures and\nthings. They stayed in England not very long. Countess Poniatowski\ncalled on grandmamma, and she had on a black velvet bonnet with red\nroses in it; so I suppose it was winter. Then one day grandpapa took\nmamma out to walk in a park; so I suppose that was summer. There were\nsome gentlemen in the park that they talked to, and one of them, a\ngentleman with a hook nose, who was sitting down on a bench, took\nmamma on his knees, and started to kiss her. But mamma slapped his\nface. She said he had no right to kiss people who didn't want him\nto, not even if he were a king. His name was the Duke of Wellington.\nThen they all came to America, and people here were very polite to\nthem, because they were Polish exiles, and of noble birth. But they\ncouldn't eat nor drink nor wear politeness, mamma said, and so they\ngrew poorer and poorer every day, and didn't know what they would do.\nOnce they travelled with Henry Clay two weeks, and had quite a nice\ntime, and they went to Ashland and stayed all night. When they went\naway the next day, Mr. Clay gave mamma and Aunt Marie the little mugs\nthey had had to drink out of. But they didn't care much about 'em,\nand they broke 'em pretty soon. Mamma said she didn't know then that\nMr. Clay was a great man. She thought that just a mister couldn't\nbe great. She had always seen lords and counts, and grandpapa was a\ncolonel in the army--Colonel Lubomirski his name was. But she said\nthat in this country a man might be great, even if he wasn't anything\nbut a mister, and that my papa was as great as a prince. Well, then\nthey came to Boston, and Aunt Marie died, and they buried her, and\nmamma was almost nine years old. People used to pet and notice her,\nand everybody talked about her hair. It was thick and black, and\nit curled down to her waist. One day Doctor Somebody, I can never\nrecollect his name, took her out walking on the Common, and they\nwent into Mr. John Quincy Adams's house. And Mr. Adams took one of\nmamma's curls, and held it out, and said it was long enough and large\nenough to hang the Czar with. And she said that they might have it\nall if they'd hang him with it. And then poor grandpapa had to go\nto Washington, and teach dancing and fencing, because that was all\nhe could do. And pretty soon grandmamma broke her heart and died.\nAnd then after a little while grandpapa died. And, after that, mamma\nhad to go out sewing to support herself, and she went to Boston, and\nsewed in Mr. Yorke's family. And Mr. Yorke's youngest brother fell in\nlove with her, and she fell in love with him, and they married each\nother in spite of everybody. So the family were awfully angry. My\npapa had been engaged ever since he was a little boy to Miss Alice\nMills, and they had put off getting married because she was rich, and\nhe hadn't anything, and was looking round to see how he should get a\nfortune. And the Millses all turned against him, and the Yorkes all\nturned against him, and he and mamma went off, and wandered about,\nand came down to Maine; and papa died. Then mamma had to sew again to\nsupport herself, and we were awfully poor. I remember that we lived\nin the same house with you; but it was a better house than this, and\nwas up in the village. Then mamma's heart broke, and she died too.\nBut I don't mean to break my heart, Mrs. Jane. It's a poor thing to\ndo.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" sighed the listener; \"it's a poor thing to do.\"\n\n\"Well,\" resumed the child, \"then you kept me. It was four years ago\nwhen my mamma died, but I remember it all. She made me promise not to\nforget who my mother was, and promise, with both my hands held up,\nthat I would be a Catholic, if I had to die for it. So I held up both\nmy hands, and promised, and she looked at me, and then shut her eyes.\nIt that all right?\"\n\n\"Yes, dear!\" Mrs. Rowan had dropped her knitting as the story went\non, and was gazing dreamily out the window, recalling to mind her\nbrief acquaintance with the fair young exile.\n\n\"Dick and I grew to be great friends,\" Edith continued rather\ntimidly. \"He used to take care of me, and fight for me. Poor Dick!\nHe was mad nearly all the time, because his father drank rum, and\nbecause people twitted him, and looked down upon him.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan took up her work again, and knit tears in with the yarn.\n\n\"And Dick gave his father an awful talking-to, one day,\" Edith\nwent on, still more timidly. \"That was two years ago. He stood up\nand poured out words. His eyes were so flashing that they dazzled,\nand his cheeks were red, and he clinched his hands. He looked most\nsplendid. When I go back to Poland, he shall be a general in the\narmy. He will look just as he did then, if the Czar should come near\nus. Well, after that day he went off to sea, and he has not been back\nsince.\"\n\nTears were running down the mother's cheeks as she thought of her\nson, the only child left her of three.\n\nEdith leaned and clasped both her hands around Mrs. Rowan's arm,\nand laid her cheek to them. \"But he is coming back rich, he said he\nwould; and what Dick said he'd do he always did. He is going to take\nus away from here, and get a pretty house, and come and live with us.\"\n\nA hysterical, half-laughing sob broke through the listener's quiet\nweeping. \"He always did keep his word, Edith!\" she cried. \"Dick was a\ngallant lad. And I trust that the Lord will bring him back to me.\"\n\n\"Oh! he'll come back,\" said Edith confidently, and with a slight air\nof haughtiness. \"He'll come back himself.\"\n\nAll the Christianity the child had seen had been such as to make the\nname of the Lord excite in her heart a feeling of antagonism. It is\nhard to believe that God means love when man means hate; and this\nchild and her protectors had seen but little of the sunny side of\nhumanity. Christians held aloof from the drunkard and his family, or\napproached them only to exhort or denounce. That they had any kinship\nwith that miserable man, that in his circumstances they might have\nbeen what he was, never seemed to occur to them as possible. Dick\nfought with the boys who mocked his father, therefore he was a bad\nboy. Mrs. Rowan flamed up, and defended her husband, when the Rev.\nDr. Martin denounced him, therefore she was almost as bad as he.\nSo shallow are most judgments, arraigning effects without weighing\ncauses.\n\nNor did Edith fare better at their hands. She was to them a sort\nof vagabond. Who believed the story of her mother's romantic\nmisfortunes? She was some foreign adventuress, most likely. Mr.\nCharles Yorke, whom they respected, had married a native of Seaton,\nand had two or three times honored that town with a short visit. They\nknew that he had cast off his own brother for marrying this child's\nmother. Therefore she had no claim on their respect.\n\nMoreover, some of the ladies for whom young Mrs. Yorke had done\nsewing had not the pleasantest of recollections connected with her.\nA poor person has no right to be proud and high-spirited, and the\nwidowed exile was a very fiery woman. She would not sit at table with\ntheir servants, she would not be delighted when they patronized her,\nand she would not be grateful for the scanty wages they gave her.\nShe had even dared to break out upon Mrs. Cleaveland when that lady\nhad sweetly requested her to enter her house by the side door, when\nshe came to sew. \"In Poland a person like you would scarcely have\nbeen allowed to tie my mother's shoes!\" she cried. The lady answered\nsuavely, \"But we are not in Poland, madam;\" but she never forgave the\ninsolence--still less because her husband laughed at it, and rather\nliked Mrs. Yorke's spirit.\n\nThese were the ladies whom Edith had heard talk of religion; so she\nlifted her head, dropped her eyelids, and said defiantly, \"Dick will\ncome home himself!\"\n\n\"Not unless the Lord lets him come,\" said the mother. \"Oh! no good\nwill come to us except by him. '_Unless the Lord build the house,\nthey labor in vain that build it: unless the Lord keep the city, he\nwatcheth in vain that keepeth it._'\"\n\n\"I don't think you have much to thank him for,\" remarked the child\nquietly.\n\n\"I will thank him!\" the woman cried out in a passion. \"I will trust\nhim! He is all the hope I have!\"\n\n\"Well, well, you may!\" Edith said soothingly. \"Don't let's talk about\nit any more. Give me the scissors, and I'll cut the fraggles off the\nhem of your gown. Suppose Dick should come home all of a sudden, and\nfind us looking so! I hope he will let us know, don't you? so that we\ncan put our best clothes on.\"\n\nThe best clothes in question were a black bombazine gown and shawl,\nand an old-fashioned crape bonnet and veil, all sewed up and hidden\naway under Edith's bed in the little dark attic, lest Mr. Rowan, in\none of his drunken frenzies, should destroy them. These articles were\nthe mourning which Mrs. Rowan had worn seven years before, when her\nlast daughter died. With them was another bag, belonging to Edith,\nequally precious to its owner, but from other reasons. There was\na scarlet merino cape, lined with silk of the same color, both a\nlittle faded, and a faded crape scarf that had once been gorgeous\nwith red and gold. In the innermost fold of this scarf, wrapped\nin tissue-paper, and tucked inside an old kid glove of remarkable\nsmallness, were two locks of hair--one a short, thick wave of\nyellow-brown, the other a long, serpentine tress of ebony blackness.\n\nWhile they talked, the door of the room opened, and Mr. Rowan looked\nin. \"Aren't we going to have any supper to-night?\" he demanded.\n\nEdith fixed a look on him that made him shrink out, and bang the door\nbehind him. His wife started up, glanced at the clock, and went about\nher work.\n\n\"Let me help you, Mrs. Jane,\" the child said.\n\n\"No, dear. There isn't much to do, and I'd rather do it.\" Mrs.\nRowan's voice had a sepulchral sound, her head being deep in the\nfireplace, where she was putting one hook into another on the crane,\nto let the tea-kettle down. She emerged with a smooch of soot on her\nhair and forehead, and began flying round bringing a table into the\nmiddle of the floor, putting up the leaves, spreading the cloth,\ntaking down the dishes, all with trembling haste. \"If you want to\nknit a few times across the heel of that stocking, you may. But be\ncareful not to knit too tightly, as you almost always do. You can\nbegin to narrow when it's two of your forefingers long.\"\n\nEdith took the knitting, and went to her favorite chair in the back\nwindow. The room had grown smoky in consequence of Mrs. Rowan's\npiling of soft wood on to the fire, and hurrying about past the\nfireplace, so she pushed up the window, and fastened it with a wooden\nbutton fixed there for the purpose. Then she began to knit and think,\nand, forgetting Mrs. Rowan's directions, pulled the yarn so tightly\nover her fingers that she worked a hard, stiff strip across the heel,\ninto which the looser knitting puckered. The child was too much\nabsorbed to be aware of her mistake, and it did not matter; for that\nstocking was never to be finished.\n\nWhile she dreamed there, a deeper shadow than that of the clay bank\nfell over her. She looked up with a start, and saw Mr. Rowan standing\noutside the window. He had placed himself so as to avoid being seen\nby any one in the room, and was just turning his eyes away from her\nwhen she caught sight of him.\n\n\"Lean out here!\" he said. \"I want to speak to you.\"\n\nShe leaned out and waited.\n\n\"What makes you stare at me the way you sometimes do?\" he asked\nangrily, but in a low voice, that his wife might not hear. \"Why don't\nyou say right out what you think?\"\n\n\"I don't know what I do think,\" replied Edith, dropping her eyes.\n\n\"You think that I am a wretch!\" he exclaimed. \"You think I am a\ndrunkard! You think I abuse my wife!\"\n\nShe neither answered nor looked up.\n\nHe paused a moment, then went on fiercely. \"If there is anything I\nhate, it is to have people look at me that way, and say nothing. If\nyou scold a man, it looks as if you thought there was something in\nhim that could tell black from white; and if you are impudent, you\nput yourself a little in the wrong, and that helps him. He isn't so\nmuch ashamed of himself. But when you just look, and say nothing, you\nshut him out. It is as much as to tell him that words would be thrown\naway on him.\"\n\n\"But,\" Edith objected, much at a loss, \"if I answered you back, or\nsaid what I thought, there would be a quarrel right off.\"\n\n\"Did I fight when Dick gave me such a hauling-over before he went\naway?\" the man questioned in a rough tone that did not hide how his\nvoice broke, and his blood-shot eyes filled up with tears. \"Didn't\nI hang my head, and take it like a dog? He said I had acted like a\nbrute, but he didn't say I was one, and he didn't say but I could be\na man yet, if I should try. Wasn't I sober for three months after he\nwent away? Yes; and I would have kept sober right on if I had had\nsome one to thorn and threaten me. But she gave up, and did nothing\nbut whimper, and it maddened me. When I ordered her to mix my rum for\nme, she did it. I should have liked her better if she had thrown it,\ntumbler and all, into my face.\"\n\n\"You'd better not find fault with her,\" said Edith. \"She's a great\ndeal better than you are.\"\n\nThe child had a gentle, sincere way of saying audacious things\nsometimes that made one wonder if she knew how audacious they were.\n\nThe man stared at her a moment; then, looking away, answered without\nany appearance of anger, \"I suppose she is; but I don't think much of\nthat kind of goodness when there's a hard job to be done. You can't\nlift rocks with straws. I'm sorry for her; but, for all that, she\naggravates me, poor thing!\"\n\nHe leaned back against the house, with his hands in his pockets, and\nstared at the clay bank before him. Edith looked at him, but said\nnothing. Presently he turned so suddenly that she started. \"Girl,\" he\nsaid, \"never do you ridicule a man who has been drinking, no matter\nwhat he does! You may hate him, or be afraid of him, but never laugh\nat him! You might as well look down into hell and laugh! Do you\nknow what it is to be in the power of rum? It is to have serpents\ntwining round you, and binding you hand and foot. I've gone through\nthe streets up there with devils on my back, pushing me down; wild\nbeasts tearing my vitals; reptiles crawling round me; the earth\nrising up and quaking under my feet, and a horror in my soul that no\nwords can describe, and the men and women and children have laughed\nat me. Perhaps they were such shallow fools that they didn't know;\nbut I tell you, and you know now. Don't you ever dare to laugh at a\ndrunkard!\"\n\n\"I never will!\" Edith cried out, in an agony of terror and pity. \"O\nyou poor man! I didn't know it was so awful. O you poor man!\"\n\nMr. Rowan had stopped, gasping for breath, and, with his patched\nsleeve, wiped off the perspiration that was streaming down his face.\nEdith tore off her little calico apron with such haste as to break\nthe strings. \"Here, take this!\" she said, reaching it out to him.\n\nHe took it with a shaking hand, and wiped his face again; wiped his\neyes again and again, breathing heavily.\n\n\"Couldn't you be saved?\" she asked, in a whisper. \"Isn't there any\nway for you to get out of it?\"\n\n\"No!\" he said, and gave her back her apron. \"No; and I wish that I\nwere dead!\"\n\n\"Don't say that!\" the child entreated. \"It is wicked; and perhaps you\nwill die if you say it.\"\n\nThe drunkard raised his trembling hands, and looked upward. \"I wish\nto God that I were dead!\" he repeated.\n\nEdith shrank back into the room. She was too much terrified to listen\nto any more. But after a moment he called her name, and she leaned\nout again. His face was calmer, and his voice more quiet. \"Don't\ntell her what I have been talking about,\" he said, nodding toward\nthe room. \"I would sooner tear my tongue out by the roots than say\nanything to her.\"\n\n\"I won't tell,\" Edith promised.\n\n\"Supper's ready,\" Mrs. Rowan announced, coming towards the window.\nShe had heard her husband's voice in conversation with Edith, and\nwondered greatly what was going on.\n\nMr. Rowan turned away, with a look of irritation, at sound of her\ntimid voice, walked round the house, and came sulkily in to his\nsupper.\n\nTheir meals had always been comfortless and silent; but now Edith\ntried to talk, at first with Mrs. Rowan; but when she saw that the\nwoman's tremulous replies, as if she did not dare to speak in her\nhusband's presence, were bringing an uglier frown to this face, and\nthat he was changing from sullen to savage, she addressed her remarks\nand questions to him. Mr. Rowan was a surveyor, and a good one,\nwhen he was sober, and he was a man of some general information and\nreading. When he could be got to talk, one was surprised to find\nin him the ruins of a gentleman. Now his answers were surly enough,\nbut they were intelligent, and the child, no longer looking at him\nfrom the outside, questioned him fearlessly, and kept up a sort of\nconversation till they rose from table.\n\nIt was Mr. Rowan's custom to go out immediately after supper, and\nnot come home till late in the evening, when he would stagger in,\nsometimes stupid, sometimes furious with liquor. But to-night he\nlingered about when he had left the table, lighted his pipe, kicked\nthe fire, wound up the clock, and cursed it for stopping, and\nfinally, as if ashamed of the proposal even while making it, said to\nEdith, \"Come, get the checker-board, and see if you can beat me.\"\n\nShe was quick-witted enough, or sensitive enough, not to show any\nsurprise, but quietly brought out the board, and arranged the chairs\nand stand. It was a square of board, rough at the edges, planed on\none side, and marked off in checks with red chalk. The men were bits\nof tanned leather, one side white, the other side black. She placed\nthem, smiled, and said, \"Now, I'm ready!\"\n\nMrs. Rowan's cheeks began to redden up with excitement as she went\nabout clearing the table, and washing the dishes, but she said\nnothing. She had even tact enough to go away into the bedroom,\nwhen her work was done, and leave the two to play out their game\nunwatched. There she sat in the falling dusk, her hands clasped on\nher knees, listening to every sound, expecting every moment to hear\nher husband go out. The three curtains in the room were rolled up to\nthe very tops of the windows, and, in their places, three pictures\nseemed to hang on the smoky walls, and illumine the place. One was\na high clay bank, its raw front ruddy with evening light, its top\ncrowned with a bush burning like that of Horeb. The second was a hill\ncovered with spruce-trees, nothing else, from the little cone, not\na foot high, to the towering spire that pierced the sky. Some faint\nrose-reflections yet warmed their sombre shadows, and each sharp\ntop was silvered with the coming moonlight. The third window showed\na deserted ship-yard, with the skeleton of a bark standing on the\nstocks. The shining river beyond seemed to flow through its ribs,\nand all about it the ground was covered with bright yellow chips and\nshavings. Above it, in the tender green of the southwestern sky, a\ncloud-bark freighted with crimson light sailed off southward, losing\nits treasure as it went. These strong, rich lights, meeting and\ncrossing in the room, showed clearly the woman's nervous face full\nof suspense, the very attitude, too, showing suspense, as she only\nhalf-sat on the side of the bed, ready to start up at a sound. After\na while she got up softly, and went to the fireplace to listen. All\nwas still in the other room, but she heard distinctly the crackling\nof the fire. What had come over him? What did it mean?\n\nPresently there was a slight movement, and Edith's voice spoke out\nbrightly: \"Oh! I've got another king. Now I have a chance!\"\n\nThe listener trembled with doubt and fear. Her husband was actually\nsitting at home, and playing checkers with Edith, instead of going\nout to get drunk! He could not mean to go, or he would have gone at\nonce. She longed to go and assure herself, to sit down in the room\nwith him, but could scarcely find courage to do so. She held her\nbreath as she went toward the door, and her hand faltered on the\nlatch. But at last she summoned resolution, and went out.\n\nThe lamp was lighted, the checker-board placed on the table beside\nit, and the two were talking over the slackening game. Edith had a\ngood head for a child of her age, but her opponent was an excellent\nplayer, and she could not interest him long. She was trying every\nlure to keep him, though, and made a new tack as Mrs. Rowan came\nin, relating an experience of her own, instead of questioning him\nconcerning his. \"I want to tell you something I saw last night in my\nchamber,\" she said.\n\nEdith's chamber was the little dark attic, which was reached by a\nsteep stairway at one side of the fireplace.\n\n\"I was in bed, wide awake, and it was pitch dark. You know you put\nthe cover over the skylight when it rained, the other day, and it has\nnot been taken off. Well, instead of shutting my eyes, I kept them\nwide open, and looked straight into the dark. I've heard that you\ncan see spirits so, and so I thought I might see my mamma. Pretty\nsoon there was a great hole in the dark, like a whirlpool, and after\na minute there was a little light down at the bottom of it. I kept\non looking, just as if I were looking down into a deep well, and\nthen there came colors in clouds, sailing about, just like clouds in\nthe sky. Some were red, others pink, others blue, and all colors.\nSometimes there would be a pattern of colors, just like figures in a\ncarpet, only they were blocks, not flowers. I didn't dream it. I saw\nit as plainly as I see the fire this minute. What do you suppose it\nwas, Mr. Rowan?\"\n\nHe had listened with interest, and did not appear to find anything\nsurprising in the recital.\n\n\"I don't know much about optics,\" he answered; \"but I suppose\nthere is a scientific reason for this, whether it is known or not.\nI've seen those colors--that is, I did when I was a child; and De\nQuincey, in his _Opium Confessions_, tells the same story. I don't\nbelieve that grown people are likely to see them, for the reason that\nthey shut their eyes, and their minds are more occupied. You have to\nstare a good while into the dark, and wait what comes, and not think\nmuch of anything.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Edith. \"But what do you guess it is?\"\n\nMr. Rowan leaned back in his chair, with his hands clasped behind his\nhead, and considered the matter a moment, some finer intelligence\nthan often showed there kindling behind his bloated face.\n\n\"I should guess it might be this,\" he said. \"Though the place appears\nat first to be dark, there are really some particles of light there.\nAnd since there are too few of them to keep up a connection in their\nperfect state, they divide into their colors, and make the clouds you\nsaw. I don't know why particles of light should not separate, when\nthey have a great deal to do, and not much to do it with. Air does.\"\n\n\"But what made them move?\" Edith asked. \"They were never still.\"\n\n\"Perhaps they were alive.\"\n\nShe stared, with scintillating eyes.\n\nMr. Rowan gave a short, silent laugh. He knew that the child was\nonly questioning in order to keep him. \"No reason why not,\" he said.\n\"According to Sir Humphry Davy, and some other folks, I believe, heat\nisn't caloric, but repulsive motion. It isn't matter, but it moves,\ngoes where nothing else can, passes through stone and iron, and can't\nbe stopped, and can't be seen. Now, a something that is not matter,\nand yet is powerful enough to overcome matter, must be spirit. Heat\nis the soul of light; and if heat is spirit, light is alive. _Voil\u00e0\ntout!_\"\n\nHe had forgotten himself a moment in the pleasure of puzzling his\nquestioner; but catching his wife looking at him with an expression\nof astonishment, he came back to the present. The smile died out of\nhis face, and the frown came back.\n\n\"Don't you want to play _solitaire_?\" Edith struck in desperately.\n\nHe made a slight motion of dissent, but it was not decided; so she\nbrought out the pack of soiled cards, and laid them before him.\nThere was a moment of hesitation, during which the heart of the wife\nthrobbed tumultuously, and the nerves of the child tingled with an\nexcitement that seemed to snap in sparks from her eyes. Then he\ntook the cards, shuffled them, and began to play. Mrs. Rowan opened\na book, and, holding it upside down, so as to hide her face, cried\nquietly behind the page. Her husband saw that she was crying, cast\na savage glance at her, and seemed about to fling the cards down;\nbut Edith made some remark on the game, leaned toward him, and laid\nher head lightly on his arm. It was the first time in all their\nacquaintance that she had voluntarily touched him. At the same time\nshe reached her foot, and pushed Mrs. Rowan's under the table. Mrs.\nRowan dropped her book, turned her face away quickly, and said, with\nan effort of self-control rare for her: \"Why, it's nine o'clock! I'll\ngo to bed, I think; I'm tired.\"\n\nNobody answering, or objecting, she went away, and left her husband\nstill over his cards.\n\n\"Isn't it about your bedtime?\" he said presently to Edith.\n\nShe got up slowly, unwilling to go, yet not daring to stay. Oh!\nif she were but wise enough to know the best thing that could be\nsaid--something which would strengthen his resolution, and keep him\nin. It was not yet too late for him to go out; for, when every safe\nand pitiful door is closed, and slumber seals all merciful eyes, the\nbeacon of the grog-shop shines on through the night, and tells that\nthe way to perdition still is open, and the eyes of the rum-seller\nyet on the watch.\n\n\"How glad I shall be when Dick comes home!\" she said. \"Then I hope we\ncan all go away from here, and wipe out, and begin over.\"\n\nShe could not have said better, but, if she had known, she could have\ndone better. What he needed was not an appeal to his sentiments, but\nphysical help. Words make but little impression on a man while the\ntorments of a burning, infernal thirst are gnawing at his vitals. The\ndrunkard's body, already singed by the near flames of the bottomless\npit, needed attending to at once; his soul was crushed and helpless\nunder the ruins of it. If an older, wiser head and hand had been\nthere, started up the failing fire, and made some strong, bitter\ndraught for him to drink, it might have done good. But the child did\nnot know, and the sole help she could give was an appeal to his heart.\n\nIt is as true of the finest and loftiest natures, as of the\nperverted, that they cannot always conquer the evil one by spiritual\nmeans alone. Only spirits can do that. And often the tempter must\nlaugh to see the physical needs, which were made to play about our\nfeet like children, unnoticed when the soul speaks, starved till they\nbecome demons whose clamorous voices drown the spirit's fainting\ncries.\n\nBut this man's demon was indulgence, and not denial. He was not\nhovering on the brink of ruin, he was at the bottom, and striving\nto rise, and he could not endure that any eye should look upon his\nstruggles.\n\n\"D-- you! will you go to bed?\" he cried out fiercely.\n\nEdith started back, and, without another word, climbed the narrow\nstair to her attic. Before closing the trap-door, she looked down\nonce, and saw Mr. Rowan tearing and twisting the cards he had been\nplaying with.\n\nHe stayed there the whole night, fighting desperately with such\nweapons as he had--a will broken at the hilt, the memory of his son,\nand the thought of that dear little girl's tender but ineffectual\npity. As for God, he no longer named him, save in imprecation. The\nfaith of his orphaned childhood had gone long ago. The glare of the\nworld had scorched it up before it had fairly taken root. That there\nmight be help and comfort in the church of his fathers never entered\nhis mind. \"Drink! drink!\" that was his sole thought. \"If I only had\nsome opium!\" he muttered, \"or a cup of strong black coffee! I wonder\nif I could get either of 'em anywhere?\"\n\nThe day was faintly dawning when he staggered to the window, tore\ndown the paper curtain, and looked out for some sign of life. At the\nwharf opposite lay a vessel that had come up the evening before, and\nhe knew by the smoke that the cook was getting breakfast there.\n\n\"I'll go over and see if I can get some coffee or opium,\" he\nmuttered, and pulled his hat on as he went out the door.\n\n\"I'll ask for nothing but coffee or opium,\" he protested to himself,\nas he shut the door softly after him.\n\nAlas! alas!\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nWIPING OUT, AND BEGINNING ANEW.\n\nThe next morning was a gloomy one for the two who had nursed that\ntrembling hope overnight, but they did not say much about it.\nMrs. Rowan's face showed the lassitude of long endurance. Edith's\ndisappointment was poignant. She was no longer a looker-on merely,\nbut an actor. The man had confided in her, had tacitly asked her\nsympathy, and his failure gave her a pang. She cast about in her\nthoughts what she should do, having a mind to put her own young\nshoulder to the wheel. Should she go in search of him, and give him\none of those scoldings which he had acknowledged his need of? Should\nshe lead him home, and protect him from abuse?\n\n\"Hadn't I better go up to the post-office?\" she asked, after\nbreakfast. \"I haven't been there this good while, and there might be\na letter from Dick.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan hesitated: \"Well, yes.\" She disliked being left alone, and\nshe had no expectation of a letter. But it seemed like slighting her\nson to make any other reply to such a request. Besides, the village\nboys might be hooting her husband through the streets, and, if they\nwere, she would like to know it. So Edith prepared herself, and went\nout.\n\nThe ship-yard was full of business at this hour, and two men were\nat work close to the road, shaving a piece of timber. Edith looked\nat them, and hesitated. \"I've a good mind to,\" she thought. She had\nnever gone into the ship-yard when the men were there, and had never\nasked any one a question concerning Mr. Rowan. But now all was\nchanged, and she felt responsible. \"Have you seen Mr. Rowan anywhere,\nthis morning?\" she asked, going up to the man nearest her.\n\nHe drew the shave slowly to him, slipped off a long curl of\namber-colored wood from the blade, then looked up to see who spoke.\n\"Mr. Rowan!\" he repeated, as if he had never heard the name before.\n\"Oh! Dick, you mean. No, I haven't seen him, this morning. He may be\nlying round behind the timbers somewhere.\"\n\nThe child's eyes sparkled. Child though she was, she knew that the\ndrunkard was more worthy of the title of gentleman than this man was,\nfor he was rude and harsh only when he suffered.\n\n\"Little girl,\" the other called out as she turned away, \"your father\nis over there on board of the _Annie Laurie_. I saw him lying there\nhalf an hour ago, and I guess he hasn't stirred since.\"\n\n\"He isn't my father!\" she flashed out.\n\nThe two burst into a rude laugh, which effectually checked the thanks\nshe would have given for their information. She turned hastily away,\nand went up the road to the village.\n\nMrs. Rowan finished her work, and sat down in the west window to\nwatch. She was too anxious and discouraged to knit, even, and so did\nnot discover the tight little strip of work around the stocking-heel.\nIt was employment enough to look out for Edith; not that she expected\na letter, but because she wanted company. She was conscious of some\nstrength in the child, on which she leaned at times. As for Dick,\nshe had little hope of good news from him, if any. She had no part\nin Edith's rose-colored expectations. Dick in peril from storm, foe,\nor sin; Dick dying untended in foreign lands; Dick sinking down in\ncold, salt seas--these were the mother's fancies.\n\nAfter half an hour, a small figure appeared over the hills between\nthe house and the village. Mrs. Rowan watched it absently, and with\na slight sense of relief. But soon she noticed that the child was\nrunning. It was not like Edith to run. She was noticeably quiet, and\neven dignified in her manners. Could she have seen or heard anything\nof Mr. Rowan at the village? The heart of the wife began to flutter\nfeebly. Was he lying in the street? or engaged in a drunken quarrel?\nShe leaned back in her chair, feeling sick, and tried to gather\nstrength for whatever might come to her.\n\nEdith was near the house, now running a few steps, then walking, to\ngather breath, and she held her arm above her head, and swung it, and\nin her hand was a letter!\n\nAway went all thought of her husband. In two minutes Mrs. Rowan had\nthe letter in her hand, had torn it open, and she and Edith were both\nbending over it, and reading it together. It had been lying in the\npost-office a week. It came from New York, and in a week from the\ndate of it Dick would be at home! He was on board the ship _Halcyon_,\nCaptain Cary, and they were to come down to Seaton, and load with\nlumber as soon as their East Indian freight should be disposed of. He\nhad met Captain Cary in Calcutta, Dick wrote, and, having done him a\nservice there, had been taken on board his ship, and now was second\nmate. Next voyage he would sail as first mate. The captain was his\nfriend, would do anything for him, and owned half the ship, Major\nCleaveland owning the other half; so Dick's fortune was made. But,\nhe added, they must get out of that town. He had a month to spare,\nand should take them all away. Let them be ready to start on short\nnotice.\n\nHaving read this joyful letter through once, they began at the\nfirst word and read it all through again, dwelling here and there\nwith exclamations of delight, stopped every minute by a large tear\nthat splashed down from Mrs. Rowan's eyes, or a yellow avalanche of\nEdith's troublesome hair tumbling down as she bent eagerly over the\nletter. How many times they read that letter would be hard to say;\nstill harder to say how many times they might have read it, had there\nbeen no interruption.\n\nA crowd of men were approaching their door--close upon them, and\ndarkening the light before they looked up. \"Had Dick come, and were\nthe neighbors welcoming him?\" was the first thought.\n\nIn her haste, Edith had left the outer door ajar, and now heavy feet\ncame tramping in without any leave being asked; the inner door was\npushed open, and--not Dick, but Dick's father was brought in and laid\non the floor. This was not the first time he had been brought home,\nbut never before had he come with such a retinue and in such silence,\nand never before had these men taken off their hats to Mrs. Rowan.\n\n\"We've sent for the doctor, ma'am,\" one of them said; \"but I guess\nit's no use.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't have ordered him off, if I hadn't thought he was steady\nenough to go,\" said another, who looked very pale. \"The captain was\nexpected on board every minute, and it would be as much as my life is\nworth if he found a man drunk there.\"\n\n\"He slipped on a plank, and fell,\" some one explained.\n\nTheir talk was, to the bewildered woman, like sounds heard in a\ndream. So were Edith's passionate words as she ordered the men away.\nThe one who had refused the dead man any better title than \"Dick\" was\njust coming in at the door, staring right and left, not too pitiful\neven then to be curious regarding the place he was in. \"Go out!\" she\nsaid, pushing the door in his face.\n\nSome way, still in a dream, they were got rid of, all but two. Then\nthe doctor came, and looked, and nodded his decision--\"All over!\"\n\nA dream! a dream!\n\nThe bedroom was set in order, the silent sleeper laid out there,\nevery stranger sent out of the house and locked out, and then Mrs.\nRowan woke up. It was a terrible awakening.\n\nMadame Swetchine comments upon the fact that the thought of death is\nmore terrible in an arid existence than in the extremes of joy and\nsorrow. It is true not only of those who die, but of the survivors.\nWe go out more willingly on a difficult journey when we have been\nwarmed and fed; we send our loved ones out with less pain when they\nhave been thus fortified. It is the same, in a greater degree, when\nthe journey is that one from which the traveller never returns. It\nadds a terrible pang to bereavement when we think that our lost one\nhas never been happy; how much more terrible if he has never been\nhonored!\n\nOf her husband's future Mrs. Rowan refused to think or to hear,\nthough she must have trembled in the shadow of it. It might be that\nwhich made her so wild. She would allow no one to come near or speak\nto her save Edith. Those who came with offers of help and sympathy\nshe ordered away. \"Go!\" she cried. \"I want nothing of you! I and mine\nhave been a byword to you for years. Your help comes too late!\"\n\nShe locked them out and pulled the curtains close, and, though\npeople continued to come to the door through the whole day, no one\ngained admittance or saw a sign of life about the house. Inside sat\nthe widow and the child, scarcely aware of the passage of time. They\nonly knew that it was still day by the rays of sunlight that came in\nthrough holes in the paper curtains, and pointed across the rooms\nlike long fingers. When there was a knock at the door, they started,\nlifted their faces, and listened nervously till the knocking ceased,\nas if afraid that some one might force an entrance. One would have\nfancied, from their expression, that savages or wild beasts were\nseeking to enter. They never once looked out, nor knew who came.\n\nStill less were they aware of Major Cleaveland standing in his\ncupola, spy-glass in hand, looking down the bay to see if that cloud\nof canvas coming up over the horizon was the good ship _Halcyon_\ncoming home after her first voyage. Down-stairs he came again, three\nstairs at a jump, as joyful as a boy, in spite of his forty years,\ngave directions for the best dinner that the town would afford,\nordered his carriage, and drove off down the river-road.\n\nThe _Halcyon_ was the largest vessel that had ever been built at\nSeaton, and as its launching had been an event in the town, so its\nfirst arrival was an incident to take note of. When Major Cleaveland\ndrove down to the wharf where Mr. Rowan had that morning lost his\nlife, more than a hundred persons were assembled there waiting for\nthe ship, and others were coming. He stepped over to the Rowans'\ndoor, and knocked twice, once with his knuckles, and again with his\nwhip-handle, but received no answer. \"I would force the door, but\nthat Dick is coming,\" he said. \"It is a shame to let the poor soul\nshut herself up alone.\"\n\nSoon, while the crowd watched, around the near curve of the river,\nwhere a wooded point pushed out, appeared the tip, then the whole of\na bowsprit garlanded with green wreaths, then the leaning lady in her\ngilded robes, with a bird just escaping from her hand, then the ship\nrode gracefully into sight on the incoming tide.\n\nA ringing shout welcomed her, and a shout from all hands on board\nanswered back.\n\nForemost of the little group on the deck stood a man of gigantic\nstature. His hair was coarse and black, he wore an enormous black\nbeard, and his face, though scarcely middle-aged, was rough and\nscarred by the weather. Everybody knew Captain Cary, a sailor worthy\nof the old days of the Vikings, broad-shouldered, as strong as a\nlion, with a laugh that made the glasses ring when he sat at table.\nHe was a plain, simple man, but grand in his simplicity. By his side\nstood a youth of twenty, who looked slight in comparison, though\nhe was really manly and well grown. He had sea-blue eyes, quick,\nlong-lashed, and as bright as diamonds; his face was finely moulded,\nruddy, and spirited; his hair, that glistened in the sunlight, was\nchestnut-brown. A gallant lad he was, the very ideal sailor-boy. But\nhis expression was defiant, rather than placid, and he did not join\nin the hurrahs. The welcoming applause was not for him, he well knew.\nThey were no friends of his who crowded the wharf. He had some bitter\nrecollections of slight or injury connected with nearly every one of\nthem. But he was no longer in their power, and that gave him freedom\nand ease in meeting them. The time had gone by when he could look\nupon these country folks as final judges in any matter whatever, or\nas of any great consequence to him. He had seen the world, had won\nfriends, had proved that he could do something, that he was somebody.\nHe was not ashamed of himself by any means, was young Dick Rowan.\nStill, it was no pleasure to him to see them, for it brought back the\nmemory of sufferings which had not yet lost their sting.\n\nAll this shouting and rejoicing was as the idle wind to the mourners\nacross the way. Their fears of intrusion set at rest, since no one\nhad attempted to force an entrance to the house, they no longer took\nnotice even of the knocking at the door. Both had fallen into a sort\nof stupor, induced by the exhaustion of long weeping, the silence\nand semi-darkness of their rooms, and the removal of what had been\nthe daily tormenting fear of their lives. There was no longer any\nneed to tremble when a step approached, lest some one should come in\nfrenzied with drink, and terrify them with his ravings and violence.\nMrs. Rowan sat by her husband's side, leaning back in her chair, with\nclosed eyes and clasped hands, only half-alive. Edith lay on the\nkitchen-floor, where she had thrown herself in a passion of weeping,\nher arms above her head, her face hidden, and her long hair veiling\nher. The weeping was over, and she lay silent and motionless. Neither\nthat shouting over on the wharf, nor Major Cleaveland's loud knocking\nwith his whip-handle, had made the slightest impression on her.\n\nBut at sunset came one who would not be denied. He tried the lock,\nand, finding it fastened, knocked gently. There was no answer. He\nknocked loudly, and still there was no reply. Then he set his knee\nagainst the rickety panel, took the knob in a strong grasp, and\nwrenched the door open. Stepping quickly into the little entry, he\nlooked to right and left, saw the girl lying, face down, on the\nfloor, and the woman sitting beside her dead, both as still as the\ndead.\n\nSomething like a dream came into the half-swoon, half-sleep in which\nEdith Yorke lay. She heard a slight cry, then a stifled sob, and\nwords hurriedly spoken in a low voice. Then there was a step that\npaused near her. She put her hair back with one hand, and turned her\nface listlessly. The curtain had been raised to let in the light, and\nthere stood a young man looking down at her. His face was pale with\nthe sudden shock of grief and distress, but a faint indication of a\nsmile shone through as she looked up at him.\n\nHer first glance was a blank one, her second flashed with delight.\nShe sprang up as if electrified. \"O Dick! O Dick! How glad I am!\"\n\nThe world moved rightly at last! Order was coming out of chaos; for\nDick had come home!\n\nHe shook hands with her rather awkwardly, somewhat embarrassed by the\nwarmth of her welcome. \"We're to go right off,\" he said. \"Captain\nCary will help us.\"\n\n\"Yes, Dick!\" she replied, and asked no questions. He knew what was\nright. With him had come all help, and strength, and hope.\n\nThe next morning, long before dawn, they started. A boat was ready at\nthe wharf, and Captain Cary and Dick carried out the dead in a rude\ncoffin that had been privately made on board the _Halcyon_. \"They\nshall not stare at our poor funeral, captain,\" Dick had said; \"and I\nwill not ask them for a coffin or a grave.\"\n\n\"All right!\" his friend had answered heartily. \"I'm your man.\nWhatever you want to do, I'll help you about.\"\n\nSo the watch on the _Halcyon_ was conveniently deaf and blind, the\nboat was ready in the dark of morning, the coffin carried out to it,\nand Mrs. Rowan and Edith helped in after. When they were in their\nplaces, and the captain seated, oars in hand, Dick went back to the\nhouse, and stayed there a little while. No questions were asked of\nhim when he came away, bringing nothing with him, and he offered no\nexplanation, only took the oars, and silently guided their boat out\ninto the channel. The banks on either side were a solid blackness,\nand the sky was opaque and low, so that their forms were scarcely\nvisible to each other as they sat there, Mrs. Rowan in the bows near\nher son, Edith beside Captain Cary, who loomed above her like a\nmountain of help.\n\nPresently, as they floated around the point that stood between the\nvillage and the bay, a faint blush of light warmed the darkness\nthrough, and grew till the low-hung clouds sucked it up like a sponge\nand showed a crimson drapery over their heads. It was too early for\nmorning light, too fierce, and, moreover, it came from the wrong\ndirection. The east was before them; this sanguinary aurora followed\nin their wake. It shone angrily through the strip of woods, and sent\na long, swift beam quivering over the water. This fiery messenger\nshot like an arrow into the boat, and reddened Mrs. Rowan's hands,\nclasped on the edge of the coffin. By the light of it, Dick saw all\ntheir faces turned toward him.\n\n\"The house was mine!\" he said defiantly.\n\nThe captain nodded approval, and Edith leaned forward to whisper,\n\"Yes, Dick!\" But Mrs. Rowan said not a word, only sat looking\nsteadily backward, the light in her face.\n\n\"I'm glad of it!\" sighed Edith to herself. She had been thinking\nsince they left the house how people would come and wander through\nit, and peer at everything, and know just how wretchedly they had\nlived. Now they could not, for it would all be burnt up. She sat and\nfancied the fire catching here and there in their poor little rooms,\nhow the clock would tick till the last minute, even when its face\nwas scorched and its glass shivered, and then fall with a sudden\ncrash; how the flames would catch at the bed on which the dead man\nhad lain, the mean paper curtains, the chair she had sat in, Mrs.\nRowan's little rocking-chair, at the table where they had sat through\nso many dreary meals. The checker-board would go, and the cards with\nwhich Mr. Rowan had played the night before, and the knitting-work\nwith the puckered heel, and her apron that the drunkard had wiped his\nghastly face with. The shelves in the little closet would heat, and\nblacken, and redden, and flame, and down would come their miserable\nstore of dishes, rattling into the yawning cellar. Fire would gnaw at\nthe ceiling, bite its way into the attic, burn up her books, creep\nto the bed where she had lain and seen rainbow colors in the dark,\nspread a sheet of flame over the whole, rise, and burst through the\nroof. She saw it all. She even fancied that each long-used article of\ntheir scanty plenishing, worn away by human touch, constantly in the\nsight of human eyes, would perish with some human feeling, and send\nout a sharp cry after them. The crackling of flames was to her the\ncries of burning wood. But she was glad of it, for they were going to\nwipe out and begin anew. There seemed to her something very grand and\nexceedingly proper in it all.\n\nWhen their boat glided from the river into the bay, others besides\nthemselves became aware of the conflagration, and the village bells\nrang out a tardy alarm. Dick laughed bitterly at the sound, but said\nnothing.\n\n\"They were sorry for you, Dick,\" the captain said. \"I heard a good\nmany speak of it. They would have been glad to do your family any\nkindness. I don't blame you for coming off; but you mustn't think\nthere was no kind feeling for you among the folks there.\"\n\n\"Kindness may come too late, captain,\" the young man answered. \"I\nwould have thanked them for it years ago, when I had nowhere to turn\nto, and hadn't a friend in the world; now I don't thank them, and I\ndon't want their kindness. Even if I would take it at last, neither\nthey nor you have any right to expect that I will run to take the\nhand that has struck me so many blows the first time it is held out.\nI don't trust 'em. I want proofs of good-will when I've had proofs of\nill-will.\"\n\n\"Dick is right, captain,\" his mother interposed in a weary tone. \"You\ncan't judge of such things if you haven't felt them. It's easier to\nhurt a sore heart than a sound one.\"\n\nWithin an hour they reached one of those desolate little sandy\nislands with which the bay was studded; and now the faint spring dawn\nwas breaking, and the heavy masses of cloud lifting and contracting,\npale reaches of sky visible between. By the cold glimmer they scooped\nout a grave, and placed the coffin in it. The water washed the shore,\nand a chilly, sighing wind came up from the east.\n\nAs the first shovelful of earth fell on the coffin, Mrs. Rowan\ncaught back the captain's arm. \"Don't cover him out of sight without\nsome word spoken over him!\" she implored. \"He was once young, and\nambitious, and kind, like you. He would have been a man if he hadn't\nhad bad luck, and then got into bad company. He was more wretched\nthan we were. O sir! don't cover him out of sight as if he were a\ndog.\"\n\nThe sailor looked both pained and embarrassed. \"I'm not much used\nto praying, ma'am,\" he said. \"I'm a Methodist, but I'm not a\nchurch-member. If there was a Bible here, I would read a chapter;\nbut--there isn't.\"\n\nDick walked off a little way, turned his back, and stood looking at\nthe water. Mrs. Rowan, kneeling on the sand-heap beside the grave,\nwept loudly. \"His father was a Catholic,\" she cried. \"I don't think\nmuch of Catholics; but, if poor Dick had stood by his religion, he\ncould have had a priest to say some word over him. I wouldn't have\nminded having a priest here. He'd be better than nobody.\"\n\nCaptain Cary was a strict Methodist, and he felt that it would never\nanswer to have the absence of a Catholic priest regretted. Something\nmust be done. \"I could sing a hymn, ma'am,\" he said hesitatingly;\nand, as no one objected, he straightened himself, dropped his spade,\nand sang, to the tune of the \"Dead March in Saul,\"\n\n      \"Unveil thy bosom, faithful tomb,\n        Take this new treasure to thy trust,\n      And give these sacred relics room\n        To slumber in the silent dust,\"\n\nsinging the hymn through.\n\nIn a confined place the sailor's voice would have been too powerful,\nand, perhaps, would have sounded rough; but in open air, with no wall\nnearer than the distant hills, no ceiling but the sky, and with the\ncomplex low harmony of the ocean bearing it up and running through\nall its pauses, it was magnificent. He sang slowly and solemnly, his\narms folded, his face devoutly raised, and the clouds seemed to part\nbefore his voice.\n\nWhen the hymn was ended, he remained a moment without motion or\nchange of face, then stooped for his shovel, and began to fill in the\ngrave.\n\nWhile listening to him, Edith Yorke had stood in a solemn trance,\nlooking far off seaward; but at sound of the dropping gravel, her\nquiet broke up, like ice in spring. She threw her arm, and her loose\nhair with it, up over her head, and sobbed behind that veil. But her\ntears were not for Mr. Rowan. Her soul had taken a wider range, and,\nwithout herself being aware of it, she was mourning for all the dead\nthat ever had died or ever should die.\n\nThe first sunbeam that glanced across the water showed a feather of\nsmoke from a steamer that came up through the Narrows into the bay,\nand the row-boat, a lessening speck, making for the wharf. Twice a\nweek, passengers and freight were taken and left at this wharf, three\nmiles below the town.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nSAUNTERING.\n\n\n      Saunterer (from _Sainte Terre_), a pilgrim to holy lands or\n      places.--THOREAU.\n\n\"They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks are indeed mere\nidlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there are saunterers in the\ngood sense, such as I mean,\" says Thoreau. I found the Holy Land in\nParis, the city of fashion and gaiety, and where _le supr\u00eame bonheur_\nis said to be amusement. Every church is a station of the divine\nPassion, and to every votary therein could I say:\n\n                        \"I behold in thee\n      An image of him who died on the tree.\n      Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns.\"\n\nBefore these churches, consecrated to some sweet mystery of the\nGospel or bearing the hallowed names of those who had put on the\nsacred stole of Christ's sufferings, I always stopped. I was like\nDuke Richard, in the _Roman du Rau_:\n\n      \"Whene'er an open church he found,\n      He entered in with fervent means\n      To offer up his orisons;\n      And if the doors were closed each one,\n      He knelt upon the threshold stone.\"\n\nAnd one might well kneel upon the threshold stone of these ancient\nchurches, feeding mind and soul with sacred legends of the past\nembodying holy truths which are depicted on the outer walls, as at\nthe north door of Notre Dame de Paris, the arch of which contains\nin many compartments representations of a diabolic pact and of a\ndeliverance effected by our potent Lady, which is related in a\nmetrical romance composed by Ruteboef, in the time of St. Louis.\nSaladin, a magician, wears a cap of pyramidal form. And what a mine\nof legendary and biblical lore all over these venerable walls!\nSermons in stones come down to us from the stonen saints in their\nniches and the bas-reliefs which speak louder than human tongues. The\nfirst stone of this edifice was laid by Charlemagne, and the last\nby Philip Augustus. How much this fact alone tells! And there is\nthe Porte Rouge, an exquisite specimen of the Gothic style of the\nfifteenth century, the expiatory monument of Jean-sans-Peur after the\nassassination of the Duke of Orleans. In the arch are the Duke and\nDuchess of Burgundy, in the attitude of supplication, one on each\nside of our Saviour and the Blessed Virgin. It is an eternal _Libera\nme de sanguinibus, Deus_.\n\nAnd then the Portail du Milieu, with the last judgment in the ogive,\nthe angels sounding the last trump, the dead issuing forth from their\ngraves, the separation of the righteous from the wicked, the great\nJudge with the emblems of the crucifixion, the Virgin and the loved\napostle John, and, finally, a glimpse of the joys of heaven and the\nhorrors of hell. Yes, one could linger here for days before this\n_Biblia pauperum_, were there no more powerful attractions within.\nAnd this is not the only church the very exterior of which is full of\ninstruction.\n\nIn the porch of St. Germain de l'Auxerrois is the statue of a maiden\nholding in one hand a breviary and in the other a lighted taper. By\nher is a demon with a pair of bellows, vainly trying to blow out the\nlight--symbol of faith and prayer. This is the statue of one who\ndeserves to be ranked in history with Joan of Arc on account of her\nheroism, for twice she saved Paris by her courage and her prayers.\nWould that she might once more have intervened to save the capital\nof fair France from the invader! St. Genevieve is placed thus at the\nentrance of the church of St. Germain to remind us of his connection\nwith her history.\n\nWhen St. Germain, Bishop of Auxerre, and St. Lupus, the learned\nBishop of Troyes and the intimate friend of Sidonius Apollinaris,\nwere on their way to Britain to combat the heresy of Pelagianism,\nthey passed through the village now called Nanterre, about two\nleagues from Paris. All the inhabitants of the place poured forth\nto meet them and obtain their benediction. St. Germain noticed in\nthe crowd a little girl with a face as radiant as an angel's. His\nprophetic instinct told him she was destined to be a chosen vessel\nof God's grace, and, when she expressed a wish to be the spouse of\nChrist, he led her with him to the church, holding his apostolic\nhands upon her head during the chanting of the vesper service. He\nafterward suspended a bronze medal, on which was a cross, from\nher neck, in remembrance of her consecration to God, bidding her\nhenceforth give up all ornaments of silver and gold. \"Let them who\nlive for this world have these,\" said he. \"Do thou, who art become\nthe spouse of Christ, desire only spiritual adorning.\" Dr. Newman\nsays it was a custom, even among the early Christians, to wear\non the neck some token of the mysteries of their religion. Long\nafter, in memory of this event, the Canons of St. Genevieve, at\nParis, distributed upon her festival a _pain b\u00e9nit_ on which was an\nimpression of this coin.\n\nEighteen years after, St. Germain again passed through Nanterre, once\nmore on his way to Britain. He had not forgotten Genevieve. At the\nage of fifteen, she had received the virgin's veil from the hands of\nthe Bishop of Paris. Her parents dying, she went to Paris to reside\nwith her godmother. Here she suffered that persecution so often the\nlot of those who live godly lives. Those who outstrip their fellows\neven on the path of piety are objects of envy, and they who leave\nthe beaten track of everyday religion are derided. St. Genevieve\nwas visited at Paris by the holy Bishop of Auxerre, who saluted her\nwith respect as a temple in which the divine Presence was manifest.\nHer life was one of prayer and penance. She used to water her couch\nwith her tears, and when the adversary of our souls extinguished the\ntaper that lighted her vigils she rekindled it with her prayers.\nWhen Attila, king of the Huns, threatened Paris, she besought the\ninhabitants not to leave their homes, declaring that Heaven would\nintervene to save them. The barbarians, in effect, were dispersed by\na storm, and betook themselves toward Orleans. In the church of St.\nGermain there is a chapel dedicated to St. Genevieve, with a painting\nrepresenting her haranguing the inhabitants of Paris.\n\nWhen Childeric besieged Paris, and sickness and famine were carrying\noff the inhabitants, St. Genevieve laid aside her religious dress,\ntook command of the boats that went up the Seine for succor, and\nbrought back a supply of provisions. And when the city had to\nsurrender, the conquerer treated her with marked respect, and Clovis\nloved to grant her petitions. The remains of paganism were rooted\nout of Paris through her influence over him and Clotilda, and the\nfirst church built on the spot that now bears her name, but then\ndedicated under the invocation of Sts. Peter and Paul. In that\nchurch was the shepherdess of Nanterre buried beside Clovis and\nClotilda. St. Eloi wrought a magnificent shrine for her remains,\nbut it was destroyed at the Revolution, and the contents publicly\nburned. A portion of her relics is now enshrined at the Pantheon.\nI found lights burning there, and flowers and wreaths, and votive\nofferings, and the sweet-smelling incense of prayer rising from a\ngroup of people praying around. But the magnificence of the Pantheon\nis miserably depressing, as Faber says. How much more I delighted in\nthe interesting church of St. Etienne du Mont, where is the curious\nold tomb of St. Genevieve! There too were lights and ex-votos, and an\nold woman sat near the tomb to dispense tapers to those who wished to\nleave a little gleam of love and prayer behind them. Once what lights\nand jewels blazed around such shrines, and what crowds of devout\npilgrims! Now, a few dim tapers, a few prayerful hearts, light up the\nplace.\n\n      \"Now it is much if here and there\n      One dreamer, by thy genial glare,\n      Trace the dim Past, and slowly climb\n      The steep of Faith's triumphant prime.\"\n\nNow the world seems to begrudge the temple of the Most High the\nsilver and the gold that belong to him. And jewels are not to be\nthought of. Such wealth must be kept in circulation, that is, on\nPrince Esterhazy's coat, I suppose, and by ladies of fashion. The\nworld nowadays is like Julian the Apostate, who was displeased at\nthe magnificence of the chalices used in the Christian churches. For\nme, I love these offerings from time to eternity, as Madame de Sta\u00ebl\nsays. Let all that is most precious be poured out at the feet of the\nSaviour, and let no one murmur if such offerings are crystallized. I\ntook pleasure in looking at some splendid vessels of the sanctuary at\nNotre Dame, and thought:\n\n      \"Never was gold or silver graced thus\n                  Before.\n      To bring this body and this blood to us\n                  Is more\n          Than to crown kings,\n          Or be made rings\n      For star-like diamonds to glitter in.\n\n      When the great King offers to come to me\n                  As food,\n      Shall I suppose his carriages can be\n                  Too good?\n          No! stars to gold\n          Turned never could\n      Be rich enough to be employed so.\n\n      If I might wish, then, I would have this bread,\n                  This wine,\n      Vesselled in what the sun might blush to shed\n                  His shine\n          When he should see--\n          But till that be,\n      I'll rest contented with it as it is.\"\n\nIn my saunterings I frequently lingered before the tower of St.\nJacques de la Boucherie, the highest in Paris, and the most perfect\nspecimen of Gothic architecture. The remainder of the church was\ndemolished at the Revolution. The tower was saved by the artifice\nof an architect, who besought the crowd to imitate the enlightened\nEnglish revolutionists, who destroyed their churches, but preserved\nthe towers to be converted into shot-houses! In this church crowds\nused to assemble to hear Bourdaloue thunder, as Madame de S\u00e9vign\u00e9\nexpresses it. I fancy I can hear that uncompromising preacher ringing\nout like a trump in the presence of the Great Monarch, \"Thou art\nthe man!\" This exclamation should have appealed to the heart of the\npeople, and saved the church he loved from profanation.\n\nThis church was built by the alms of pious people. Nicholas Flamel\nbuilt the portal in 1388, which he covered with devout images and\ndevices, which were regarded, even by the antiquaries of the last\ncentury, as symbols of alchemy. This Flamel was a benefactor to many\nchurches and hospitals of Paris, which he took pleasure in adorning\nwith carvings in which he made all things tributary, as it were, to\nthe worship of God. At first a simple scrivener, he became painter,\narchitect, chemist, philosopher, and poet. He certainly had the\nfancy of a poet, and wrote in durable materials. He left by his will\nnineteen chalices of silver gilt to as many churches.\n\nThese churches and religious houses are all connected with the\nhistory of the city. Paris owed its extension on the north side of\nthe Seine to the school in the Abbey of St. Germain de l'Auxerrois,\nwhich was famous at an early age. There were four great abbeys around\nParis in the time of the third dynasty--St. Lawrence, St. Genevieve,\nSt. Germain de l'Auxerrois, and St. Germain des Pr\u00e8s. These were\nsurrounded by their dependencies, forming villages which gradually\nextended till they united to enclose the city, then chiefly confined\nto the island. The poor loved to live near these abbeys. St. Germain\ndes Pr\u00e8s, besides providing for the poor in general, used privately\nto support several destitute families who were ashamed of their\npoverty. The old abbots of this monastery were both lords spiritual\nand temporal in the suburbs on that side of the city. This abbey\nwas a monument of repentance. Digby says when it was rebuilt in the\nyear 1000 the great tower and the portals were left as before. The\nstatues of eight kings stood at the entrance, four on the right hand\nand four on the left. One of them held a scroll on which was written\nthe tragical name of Clodomir. And another, with no beatific circle\naround his head, held an open tablet on which were the first and last\nletters of the name Clotaire. These were the statues of the murderer\nand his victim.\n\nThe square tower of the monastery, built in the time of Charlemagne,\ncontributed greatly to the defence of the house against the Normans.\nA stout old monk, Abbon, conducted the defence, and proved himself\non this occasion a valiant defender of the walls of Zion. Perhaps it\nwas his skilful hand that wrote an Homeric poem on the siege of Paris\nby the Normans in the year 885. If not by him, it was by a monk of a\nsimilar name.\n\nThe Pr\u00e9 aux Clercs, now the Faubourg St. Germain, took its name from\nbeing a place of recreation for the students of this abbey. One of\nthe scholars, Sylvester de Sacy, so learned in the Semitic languages,\nascribed the bent of his mind to the aid and encouragement given him\nby one of the monks who took his constitutional in the abbey gardens\nat the same time as the boy, then only twelve years old.\n\nThe library belonging to this abbey was celebrated in the middle\nages, and there were monks of literary eminence in the house.\nDacherius was the librarian when he composed his _Spicilegium_.\nUsuard compiled a martyrology. They had a printing press set up\nimmediately after the invention of printing, which gives one a\nfavorable idea of their mental activity. Most of these old monastic\nlibraries were accessible to all; that of the Abbey of St. Victor\nwas open to the public three days in the week; and there were public\nlibraries attached to some of the parish churches. In the time of\nCharles V., rightly named the Wise, he ordered the Royal Library\nof Paris to be illuminated with thirty portable lamps, and that a\nsilver one should be suspended in the centre for the benefit of those\nstudents who prolonged their researches into the night. The numerous\ncollections of books in Paris made that city very attractive to\ncertain minds even in the middle ages. Richard de Bury, Bishop of\nDurham, in England, who established the first public library in that\ncountry, used to resort to Paris for fresh supplies. \"O blessed God\nof gods in Sion!\" he exclaims, \"what a flood of pleasure rejoices our\nheart whenever we are at liberty to visit Paris, that paradise of the\nworld, where the days always seem too short and too few through the\nimmensity of our love! There are libraries more redolent of delight\nthan all the shops of aromatics; there are the flowering meadows of\nall volumes that can be found anywhere. There, indeed, untying our\npurse-strings, and opening our treasures, we disperse money with\na joyful heart (evidently the truth, for he paid the Abbot of St.\nAlbans fifty pounds weight of silver for thirty or forty volumes),\nand ransom with dirt books that are beyond all price. But lo! how\ngood and pleasant a thing it is to gather together in one place the\narms of clerical warfare, that there may be a supply of them for us\nto use in the wars against heretics, should they ever rise up against\nus!\"\n\nWhat would this book-loving prelate have done had he foreseen that\nthe church would one day be accused of being a foe to progress\nand to the diffusion of knowledge! This bishop, who lived in the\nthirteenth century, was the Chancellor and High Treasurer of England,\nand celebrated for his love and encouragement of literature. He had\nlibraries in all his palaces, and the apartment he commonly occupied\nwas so crammed with books that he was almost inaccessible. He was\nsaid to breathe books, so fond was he of being among them. None but a\ngenuine lover of books would give such amusing directions for their\npreservation. \"Not only do we serve God,\" says he, \"by preparing new\nbooks, but also by preserving and treating with great care those we\nhave already. Truly, after the vestments and vessels dedicated to our\nLord's body, sacred books deserve to be treated with most reverence\nby clerks. In opening and shutting books, they should avoid all\nabruptness, not too hastily loosing the clasps, nor failing to shut\nthem when they have finished reading, for it is far more important to\npreserve a book than a shoe.\" He then goes on to speak of soiling\nbooks; of marking passages with the finger-nails, \"like those of\na giant;\" of swelling the junctures of the binding with straws or\nflowers; and of eating over them, leaving the fragments in the book,\nas if the reader had no bag for alms. Waxing warm over the idea, he\nwishes such persons might have to sit over leather with a shoemaker!\nAnd then there are impudent youths, who presume to fill up the broad\nmargins with their unchastened pens, noting down whatever frivolous\nthing occurs to their imagination! And \"there are some thieves, too,\nwho cut out leaves or letters, which kind of sacrilege ought to be\nprohibited under the penalty of anathema.\" The bishop had evidently\nhad some sad experience with his cherished tomes. His testimony\nrespecting the appreciation of books by the monks of his time is\nvaluable. Remember the age, reader--that period of deepest darkness\njust before the dawn! \"The monks who are so venerable,\" says he in\nhis _Philobiblion_, \"are accustomed to be solicitous in regard to\nbooks, and to be delighted in their company, as with all riches, and\nthence it is that we find in most monasteries such splendid treasures\nof erudition, giving a delectable light to the path of laics. Oh!\nthat devout labor of their hands in writing books; how preferable\nto all georgic care! All things else fail with time. Saturn ceases\nnot to devour his offspring, for oblivion covereth the glory of the\nworld. But God hath provided a remedy for us in books, without which\nall that was ever great would have been without memory. Without shame\nwe may lay bare to books the poverty of human ignorance. They are\nthe masters who instruct us without rods, without anger, and without\n_money_. (The bishop had evidently forgotten those fifty pounds of\nsilver, and many more besides!) O books! alone liberal and making\nliberal, who give to all, and seek to emancipate all who serve you.\nYou are the tree of life and the river of Paradise, with which the\nhuman intelligence is irrigated and made fruitful.\"\n\nBut I did not always linger at the doors of churches, studying the\nwalls and pondering on their history. The true Catholic knows that\nthese magnificent churches are only vast shrines enclosing the great\nObject of his adoration and love. M. Olier, when travelling, never\nsaw the spire of a church in the distance without calling upon all\nwith him to repeat the Tantum Ergo. He used to say: \"When I see\na place where my Master reposes, I have a feeling of unutterable\njoy.\" This feeling comes over every one at the first glimpse of that\nundying lamp before the tabernacle, \"that small flame which rises and\nfalls like a dying pulse, flickering up and down, emblematic of our\nlives, which even now thus wastes and wanes.\"\n\nThe very first act on stepping into a church completely changes the\ncurrent of one's thoughts. The holy water, the sign of the cross,\ndispel the remembrance of material things and recall devout thoughts\nof the Passion.\n\n      \"Whene'er across this sinful flesh of mine\n          I draw the holy sign,\n      All good thoughts stir within me, and collect\n          Their slumbering strength divine.\"\n\nThe _b\u00e9nitiers_ at St. Sulpice are two immense shells, given to\nFrancis the First by the Republic of Venice; but for all that, the\n_eau b\u00e9nite_ seemed just as holy, and I made the sign of the cross\njust as devoutly.\n\nFor devotion, I prefer the largest churches, because the seclusion\nis more perfect, as at Notre Dame. Behind some pillar or in the\ndepths of some dim chapel, one can find perfect solitude where he\ncan be alone with God. Alone with God! that in itself is prayer. The\nworld-weary soul finds it good simply to sit or kneel with clasped\nhands in the divine Presence.\n\n      \"My spirit I love to compose,\n      In humble trust my eyelids close\n        With reverential resignation,\n      No wish conceived, no thought expressed,\n        Only a sense of supplication.\"\n\nJoubert says the best prayers are those that have nothing distinct,\nand which thus partake of simple adoration; and Hawthorne asks:\n\"Could I bring my heart in unison with those praying in yonder church\nwith a fervor of supplication but no distinct request, would not\nthat be the safest kind of prayer?\" Surely every devout soul feels\nthat \"prayer is not necessarily petition,\" and what is technically\nknown as the prayer of contemplation is the very inspiration of such\nchurches. In this temple of silence, man seems to be brought back to\nhis primeval relations with his Creator.\n\nWhat mute eloquence in these walls! What an appeal to the imagination\nin the calmness! Earthly voices die away on the threshold, and\npeace, dovelike, broods over the very entrance. A daily visit to\nsuch a temple gives life a certain elevation. The very poor who come\nhere to pray must acquire a certain dignity of character. How many\ngenerations have worshipped beneath these arches! The saints have\npassed over the very pavement I tread. I recall St. Louis, who, out\nof respect to our Lord, had laid off his shoes and divested himself\nof his royal robes, bearing solemnly into this church the holy Crown\nof Thorns. And great sinners, too, are in this long procession of the\npast. There is Count Raymond of Toulouse, barefoot, and clad only in\nthe white tunic of a penitent, coming to receive absolution from the\npapal legate before the grand altar.\n\nWhen one recalls the popes, cardinals, and other dignitaries of the\nchurch, the kings and queens and knights of the olden time who have\nbeen here, one almost shrinks from entering such a throng of the\nmighty ones of the earth. It seems as if he were elbowing the Great\nMonarch or the gallant Henry of Navarre.\n\nOn the galleries around the nave were formerly suspended the\nflags and standards taken in war, and it was in allusion to this\ncustom that the Prince of Conti, after the victories of Fleurus,\nSteinkerque, and La Marsaille, made an opening in the crowd around\nthe door of the church for the Marechal de Luxembourg, whom he held\nby the hand, by crying: \"Place, place, messieurs, au tapissier de\nNotre Dame!\"--\"Room, room, gentlemen, for the upholsterer of Notre\nDame!\"\n\nIt is charming to see the birds flying about in the arches of this\nchurch, as if nature had taken its venerable walls to her bosom. It\nmade me think of the old hermits of the middle ages, living with\nthe sea-birds in their ocean caves. Like St. Francis, the canons of\nNotre Dame say the divine office with their \"little sisters, the\nbirds;\" and the bird is the symbol of the soul rising heavenward on\nthe wings of prayer. We, like the birds, build our nests here for a\nfew days. Blessed are we if they are built within the influences of\nthe sanctuary which temper the storms and severities of life. It is\nonly in the clefts of the rocks that wall in the mystic garden of the\nchurch that there is safety for the dovelike soul.\n\nIn the transept is the altar of Our Lady, starry with lamps.\nAbove her statue is one of her titles, appealing to every\nheart--Consolatrix afflictorum! To this church M. Olier came, in\nall his troubles, to the altar of Mary. There is also a fine statue\nof her over the grand altar, formerly at the Carmes. No church is\ncomplete without an altar of the Blessed Virgin. Wherever there is a\ncross, Mary must be at its foot, as at Calvary, directing our eyes,\nour thoughts, our hearts, to him who hangs thereon.\n\n      \"O that silent, ceaseless mourning!\n      O those dim eyes! never turning\n        From that wondrous, suffering Son!\n\n      \"Virgin holiest, virgin purest,\n      Of that anguish thou endurest\n        Make me bear with thee my part.\"\n\nIn traversing Paris, one passes many private residences of interest\nwhich have a certain consecration--the consecration of wit and\ngenius. I cannot say I ever went so far as Horace Walpole, who never\npassed the H\u00f4tel de Carnavalet, the residence of Madame de S\u00e9vign\u00e9,\nwithout saying his Ave before it, much as I admire her _esprit_,\nand though she was the granddaughter of St. Jane de Chantal, the\nfoundress of the Nuns of the Visitation. Walpole thought the house\nhad a foreign-looking air, and said it looked like an ex-voto raised\nin her honor by some of her foreign votaries. It was once an elegant\nresidence, with its sculptured gateway and Ionic pilasters, and\nits court adorned with statues. In the day of the _spirituelle_\nletter-writer, it was the resort of the learned and the refined;\nnow, O tempora! it is a boarding-school, and the _salon_ of Madame\nde S\u00e9vign\u00e9 (the temple of \"Notre Dame de Livry,\" to quote Walpole\nagain, if it be not profanity) is converted into a dormitory. Truly,\nas Bishop de Bury says, \"all things pass away with time,\" but the wit\nand genius she embodied in her charming letters are eternal.\n\nIn one of the upper stories of a house in the Rue St. Honor\u00e9 lived\nJoubert, the Coleridge of France. His keeping-room was flooded with\nthe light he loved, and from it, as he said, he saw a great deal of\nsky and very little earth. There he passed his days among the books\nhe had collected. He rigorously excluded from his library all the\nbooks he disapproved of; unwilling, as he said, to admit an unworthy\nfriend to his constant companionship. To this room he attracted\na brilliant circle of conspicuous authors and statesmen by his\nconversational talents, and there he wrote his immortal _Pens\u00e9es_. He\nsaid he left Paris unwillingly, because then he had to part from his\nfriends; and he left the country unwillingly, because he had to part\nfrom himself. Writing from that sunny room, he says: \"In many things,\nI am like the butterfly; like him, I love the light; like him, I\nthere consume my life; like him, I need, in order to spread my wings,\nthat there be fair weather around me in society, and that my mind\nfeel itself surrounded and as if penetrated by the mild temperature\nof indulgence.\" But he wrote graver and more profound things there.\nOne of his friends said of him that he seemed to be a soul that by\naccident had met with a body, and was trying to make the best of it.\nAnd he, ever indulgent to the faults of others, said of his friends,\n\"When they are blind of one eye, I look at them in profile.\"\n\nThe Abbaye aux Bois is interesting from its association with Madame\nR\u00e9camier and her circle. Her rooms were in the third story and\npaved with tiles, and they overlooked the pleasant garden of the\nmonastery, and, when lit up with wit and genius, they needed no other\nattraction. Among her visitors there were Sir Humphry Davy, Maria\nEdgeworth, Humboldt, Lamartine, Delphine Gay, Chateaubriand, etc.\nThey must have been like the gods, speaking from peak to peak all\naround Olympus. Lamartine read his _M\u00e9ditations_ there before they\nwere given to the public. Chateaubriand thus speaks of the room:\n\"The windows overlooked the garden of the abbey, under the verdant\nshade of which the nuns paced up and down, and the pupils played. The\ntop of an acacia was on a level with the eye, sharp spires pierced\nthe sky, and in the distance rose the hills of S\u00e8vres. The rays of\nthe setting sun threw a golden light over the landscape and came in\nthrough the open windows. Some birds were settling themselves for\nthe night on the top of the window-blinds. Here I found silence and\nsolitude, far above the tumult and turmoil of a great city.\"\n\nTo the church of the abbey, a plain, unpretending structure, Eug\u00e9nie\nde Gu\u00e9rin went every day to Mass during her first visit to Paris.\nThere, too, were the bans of her brother Maurice published, and there\nhe was married.\n\nThe house of Madame Swetchine, in the Rue St. Dominique, must be\nregarded with veneration. There was no austerity about the _salon_\nof this remarkable woman. It was adorned with pictures, bronzes, and\nflowers, and in the evening it was illuminated with a profusion of\nlamps and candles, giving it a festive air. And then the great lights\nof the church, always diffusing their radiance and aroma in that\nfavored room, Lacordaire, De Ravignan, Dupanloup, De la Bouillerie,\netc. To have found one's self among them must have seemed like being\namong the prophets on Mount Carmel. They all loved to officiate and\npreach in her beautiful private chapel, which was adorned with a\nmultitude of precious stones from the Russian mines, gleaming around\nthe ineffable presence of the Divinity. Mary, too, was there. On the\nbase of her silver statue was her monogram in diamonds, which Madame\nSwetchine had worn as maid of honor to the Empress Mary of Russia.\n\nThese circles, and many others I could recall, are now broken up for\never. We have all heard and read so much of those who composed them\nthat they seem like personal friends. We linger around the places to\nwhich they imparted a certain sacredness, and follow them in thought\nto the world of mystery and eternal reunion, thanking God that the\ngreat gulf from the finite to the infinite has been bridged over by\nthe Incarnation.\n\nOne morning, I went to the church of the Carmelites. A tablet on the\nwall points out the spot where the heart of Monseigneur Affre was\ndeposited--the heart of him who gave his life for his flock. Around\nit were suspended some wreaths. On one, of immortelles, was painted,\nin black letters, _A mon P\u00e8re_, the offering of one of his spiritual\nchildren. Wishing to have some objects of devotion blessed, I went\ninto the sacristy (I remembered Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin speaks of going\ninto that sacristy), where I found one of the monks prostrate in\nprayer, making his thanksgiving after Mass. Enveloped in his habit,\nhis bald head covered by a cowl, he looked like a ghost from the dark\nages. Not venturing to approach the ghostly father, I made known my\nerrand to a good-natured-looking lay brother, who conveyed it to that\npart of the cowl where the right ear of the monk might reasonably be\nsupposed to be, which brought back the holy man to earth, causing me\nsome compunction of conscience. The brother spread out my articles,\nbrought the ritual and the stole, and the father, throwing back\nhis cowl, murmured over them the prayers of holy church, and then\ndisappeared into the monastery. Presently I heard the voices of the\nmonks saying the office, which they do, like nuns, in choir and\nbehind a curtained grate, so they are not seen from the church.\n\nThis monastery may be compared to the Roman amphitheatre where the\nearly Christians were thrown to the wild beasts. Here indeed was\nfought the good fight, and the victors rose to heaven with palms in\ntheir hands. I know of nothing more sublime and thrilling in the\nannals of the church than the massacre of about two hundred priests\nthat took place here on the second of September, 1792. I cannot\nrefrain from giving a condensed account of it by one of the writers\nof the day: \"For some weeks there had been assembled and heaped\ntogether two hundred priests, who had refused to take the schismatic\noath, or had nobly recanted it. During the first day of their\nincarceration, these loyal priests had been inhumanly imprisoned\nin the church. The guards in their midst watched to prevent their\nhaving the consolation of even speaking to each other. Their only\nnourishment was bread and water. The stone floor was their bed. It\nwas only later that a few were permitted to have straw beds. These\npriests, whom martyrdom was to render immortal, had at their head\nthree prelates whose virtues recall the primitive days of the church.\nTheir chief was the Archbishop of Arles, Monseigneur du Lau. He had\nbeen deputed to the states-general; his piety equalled his knowledge;\nand his humility even surpassed his merit. The day after the\nmemorable 10th of August he had been sent to the Carmelite monastery\n(then converted into a prison) with sixty-two other priests.\nNotwithstanding his age (he was over eighty) and his infirmities,\nhe refused all indulgences that were not also extended to his\nbrother-captives. For several days a wooden arm-chair was his bed as\nwell as his pontifical throne. Thence his persuasive words instilled\ninto those around him the sentiments of ineffable charity that filled\nhis own heart, and when his exhausted voice could no longer make\nitself heard, his very appearance expressed a sublime resignation.\n\n\"Two other bishops, brothers, bearing the name of De la\nRochefoucauld, one the Bishop of Beauvais, and the other of Saintes,\nalso encouraged their companions in misfortune by their words and\nby their example. The Bishop of Saintes had not been arrested, but,\nwishing to join his brother, he made himself a prisoner. There were\nmembers of every rank in the ecclesiastical hierarchy: M. H\u00e9bert, the\nconfessor of the king who wrote to him at the beginning of August,\n'I expect nothing more from man, bring me therefore the consolations\nof heaven;' the general of the Benedictines, the Abb\u00e9 de Lubusac,\nseveral of the cur\u00e9s of Paris, Mr. Gros, called the modern Vincent\nof Paul, and priests brought from various places, holy victims whom\nthe God of Calvary had chosen to associate with his sufferings, and\njudged worthy of the most glorious of all deaths--that of martyrdom.\n\n\"For more than two days, the wretches who hovered around their\nenclosure had filled the air with cries of blood, and predicting that\nthe sacrifice was about to take place. One said to the Archbishop of\nArles: 'My lord, on the morrow your grace is to be killed.' These\nderisive insults recalled to the holy captives the judgment-hall\nof their divine Master, and like him they bore them in silence,\nforgiving and praying for their enemies.\n\n\"On the second of September they could no longer doubt that their\nlast hour had arrived. The hurried movements of the troops, the cries\nin the neighboring streets, and the alarm-guns they heard made them\nsomewhat aware of the sinister events that were passing without.\nAt the dawn of day they had gathered together in the church. They\nmade their confessions to each other, they blessed one another, and\npartook of the Holy Eucharist. They were singing the Benediction\ntogether at about five in the evening when the ominous cries came\nnearer. Then two holy hymns succeeded the prayers for the dying.\nAll at once the jailers entered, and began calling the roll, which\nalready had been done three times that day. The prisoners were then\nordered into the garden, which they found occupied by guards armed\nwith pikes and wearing the _bonnet rouge_. The murderers filled\nthe courts, the halls, and the church, making the venerable arches\nre-echo to the noise of their weapons and their blasphemies. The\npriests, one hundred and eighty-five in number, were divided into\ntwo groups. About thirty, among whom were the bishops, rushed toward\na little oratory at the extremity of the garden, where they threw\nthemselves upon their knees, recommending themselves to God. They\nembraced each other for the last time, and began saying the vespers\nfor the dead, when suddenly the gates were flung open, and the\nassassins rushed in from various directions.\n\n\"The sight of these holy priests upon their knees arrested their\nfury for an instant. The first who fell under their blows was Father\nGerault, who was reciting his breviary regardless of their cries.\nThat breviary, pierced with a ball and stained with blood, was\ndiscovered on the spot at the restoration of the Carmelites, and\nit is preserved as a precious relic. Then the Archbishop of Arles\nwas demanded. While they were seeking him through the alleys, he\nwas exhorting his companions to offer to God the sacrifice of their\nlives. Hearing his name called, he knelt down, and asked the most\naged of the priests to give him absolution; then, rising, he advanced\nto meet the assassins. With his arms crossed upon his breast and\nhis eyes raised toward heaven, he uttered in a calm voice the same\nwords his divine Master addressed to his enemies: \"I am he whom\nyou seek.\" The first stroke of the sword was upon his forehead,\nbut the venerable man remained standing; a second made the blood\nflow in torrents, but still he did not fall; the fifth laid him on\nthe ground, when a pike was driven through his heart. Then he was\ntrampled under the feet of the assassins, who exclaimed, 'Vive la\nnation!'\n\n\"The general massacre then ensued. While the unfortunate priests,\nwith the instinct of self-preservation, were flying at random through\nthe garden, some screening themselves behind the hedges and others\nclimbing the trees, the murderers fired at them, and, when one of\nthem fell, they would rush upon his body, prolong his agony, and\nexult over his sufferings. About forty perished in this manner. Some\nof the younger priests succeeded in scaling the walls and hiding\nthemselves; but, remembering they were flying from martyrdom and that\ntheir escape might excite greater fury against their companions,\nthey retraced their steps and received their reward! The Bishop of\nBeauvais and his brother were in the garden oratory with thirty\npriests. A grating separated them from the murderers, who fired upon\nthem, killing the greater number. The Bishop of Beauvais was not\ntouched, but his brother had a leg broken by a ball.\n\n\"For an instant this horrid butchery was suspended. One of the\nleaders ordered all the priests into the church, whither they were\ndriven--even the wounded and dying--at the sword's point. There\nthey gathered around the altar, offering anew to their Saviour the\nsacrifice of their lives, whilst their executioners, calling them out\ntwo by two, finished their butchery more promptly and completely. To\neach one life was offered on condition of taking the revolutionary\noath. They all refused, and not one escaped. Whilst these assassins\nadded blasphemous shouts to their murderous strokes, whilst they\ndemolished the crosses and the tabernacles, the holy phalanx of\npriests, which death was every moment lessening, kept praying for\ntheir murderers and their country. The two bishops were among the\nlast executed. When it came to the turn of the Bishop of Beauvais, he\nleft the altar upon which he had been leaning, and calmly advanced to\nmeet his death. His brother, whose wound prevented his walking, asked\nfor assistance, and was carried out to his execution. It was eight\nin the evening when the last execution took place. Over four hundred\npriests were massacred in different parts of Paris at this period,\nbesides many isolated murders.\"\n\nThe constancy of these martyrs has made many do more than exclaim\nwith Horace Walpole: \"Almost thou persuadest me to be a Catholic!\" He\nsays, in a letter dated October 14, 1792: \"For the French priests, I\nown I honor them. They preferred beggary to perjury, and have died or\nfled to preserve the integrity of their consciences. It certainly\nwas not the French clergy but the philosophers that have trained up\ntheir countrymen to be the most bloody men upon earth.\"\n\nIn 1854, this monastery, where flowed the blood of martyrs and which\nhad echoed with their dying groans, resounded with the strains of _O\nSalutaris Hostia!_ on the festival of Corpus Christi, and priests\nbore the divine Host through the alleys of the garden where, sixty\nyears before, had rushed those who were swift to shed blood. An altar\nhad been erected under the yew-tree where the Archbishop of Arles\nfell. Children scattered flowers over the place once covered with\nblood. Well might the pale-lipped clergy tearfully chant in such a\nspot:\n\n      \"THE WHITE-ROBED ARMY OF MARTYRS PRAISE THEE!\"\n\nEvery age has its martyrs. They are the glory of the church, and\ntheir blood is its seed. The church must ever suffer with its divine\nspouse. Sometimes its head--the Vicar of Christ-is crowned with\nthorns; sometimes its heart bleeds from a thrust in the very house\nof its friends; and, again, its feet and hands are nailed in the\nextremities of the earth.\n\nAnd every follower of Christ crucified has his martyrdom--a martyrdom\nof the soul, if not of the body. The sacred stigmata are imprinted\non every soul, that embraces the cross, and no one can look upon him\nwho hangs thereon, with the eyes of faith, without catching something\nof his resemblance. Suffering is now, as when he was on earth, the\nglorious penalty of those who approach the nearest to his Divine\nPerson.\n\n      \"Three saints of old their lips upon the Incarnate Saviour laid,\n      And each with death or agony for the high rapture paid.\n      His mother's holy kisses of the coming sword gave sign,\n      And Simeon's hymn full closely did with his last breath entwine;\n      And Magdalen's first tearful touch prepared her but to greet\n      With homage of a broken heart his pierced and lifeless feet.\n      The crown of thorns, the heavy cross, the nails and bleeding brows,\n      The pale and dying lips, are the portion of the spouse.\"\n\n\n\n\nSOR JUANA INES DE LA CRUZ.\n\n\nSo little is known of Spanish American literature that any fresh\nreport from its pages seems to have the nature of a revelation.\nOur acquaintance with Heredia, Placido, Milanes, Mendive, Carpio,\nPesado, Galvan, Calderon, is slight or naught; yet these poets are\nmost interesting on account of the countries, peoples, and causes\nfor which they speak eloquently, even if we deny that they add\ngreatly to the genuine substance of our literary possession. Less\nquestion, however, can be entertained of the importance of some older\nnames whose fame made for itself a refuge in the Spanish churches\nand cloisters of the New World long before revolutionists took to\nshooting the Muses on the wing. In the seventeenth century lived\nand wrought Cabrera, Siguenza, and Sor or Sister Juana Ines. They\nbelonged to a country which claimed for awhile as its scholars,\nthough not as its natives, Doctor Valbuena, author of the very\nwell-known epical fantasy called _The Bernardo_, and Mateo Alaman,\nwho wrote the famous story of _Guzman de Alfarache_. Juan Ruiz\nde Alarcon, one of the most remarkable dramatic poets of a great\ndramatic age, was a native of that same country, Mexico. Siguenza, as\nmathematician, historian, antiquary, and poet, has been well esteemed\nby Humboldt and the scholars of his own race. It is much to say that\nthe land which produced an artist as great as Cabrera also gave birth\nto a scholar and poet as renowned in her day and as appreciable in\nours as Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz. Among all these celebrities, who\nwould have been eminent in any time among any people, this Mexican\nnun of the seventeenth century holds a place of her own. Looking back\nupon the past with all our modern light, we cannot but regard her as\none of the most admirable characters of the New World.\n\nSor Juana Ines de la Cruz was born at San Miguel de Nepantla, twelve\nleagues from the city of Mexico, in the year 1651, and died at the\nage of forty-four. When but three years old, she was able to read,\nwrite, and \"cipher,\" and at eight she wrote a prologue for the feast\nof the Holy Sacrament. Once she cut her hair, and would not allow it\nto grow till she had acquired the learning she proposed to herself,\nseeing no reason why a head should be covered with hair that was\ndenuded of knowledge, its best ornament. After twenty lessons, it was\nsaid, she knew Latin, and so great was her desire to learn that she\nimportuned her parents to send her to the University of Mexico in\nboy's clothes. When seventeen years of age, and a cherished inmate\nof the Viceroy Mancera's family, she amazed a large company of\nthe professors and scholars of the capital by tests of her various\nerudition and abilities. Notwithstanding her beauty and fortune, her\nrank and accomplishments, and the life of a gallant and brilliant\ncourt, she determined at that early age to retire to a cloister, and\nin a few years became known as Sor Juana of San Geronimo, a convent\nof the city of Mexico. After this appeared her poems, _The Crisis_\nand _The Dream_, in the latter of which she writes much of mythology,\nphysics, medicine, and history, according to the scholastic manner\nof her time. With these and her subsequent poetic writings, such as\nher sonnets, loas, romances, and autos, she had rare fame, and won\nfrom some of her admirers the enthusiastic titles of \"The Ph\u0153nix of\nMexico,\" \"Tenth Muse,\" and \"Poetess of America.\" The writer has an\nold volume before him bearing literally this title-page: \"Fama, y\nObras Posthumas del Fenix de Mexico, y Dezima Musa, Poetisa de la\nAmerica, Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, Religiosa Professa en el Convento\nde San Geronimo, de la Imperial Ciudad de Mexico. Recogidas y dadas a\nluz por el Doctor Don Juan Ignacio de Castorena y Ursua, Capellan de\nHonor de su Magestad, y Prebendado de la Santa Iglesia Metropolitana\nde Mexico. En Barcelona: Por Rafael Figuero. A\u00f1o de MDCCI. Con todas\nlas licencias necessarias.\" Thus it appears we owe to the Prebendary\nCastorena the edition of the posthumous works of Sor Juana given to\nthe light in 1701, six years after her death.\n\nBut, whether as the sister or the mother of a convent, Juana Ines de\nla Cruz was more than a mistress of vain learning or unprofitable\nscience. Her daily assiduous exercise was charity, which at last so\ncontrolled her life and thoughts that she gave all her musical and\nmathematical instruments, all the rich presents which her talents\nhad attracted from illustrious people, and all her books, excepting\nthose she left to her sisters, to be sold for the benefit of the\npoor. Though she had evidently prized science as the handmaid of\nreligion, the time came when her verses upon the vanity of learning\nreflected a mind more and more withdrawn from the affairs of this\nworld to the contemplation of the next. When an epidemic visited the\nConvent of San Geronimo, and but two out of every ten invalids were\nsaved, the good, brave soul of Madre Juana shone transcendently.\nSpite of warnings and petitions, and though all the city prayed for\nher life, Madre Juana perished at her vigil of charity--the good\nangel as well as muse of Mexico.\n\nOf the enthusiasm created by her genius, we have abundant and\ncurious proofs. Don Alonzo Muxica, \"perpetual Recorder of the City\nof Salamanca,\" wrote a sonnet upon her having learned to read at the\nage of three, when \"what for all is but the break of morn in her was\nas the middle of the day.\" Excelentissimo Sir Felix Fernandez de\nCordova Cordona y Aragon, Duke of Seffa, of V\u00e6na and Soma, Count of\nCabra, Palomas, and Olivitas, and Grand Admiral and Captain-General\nof Naples, speaks of her in a lofty poetic encomium as for the third\ntime applauded by two admiring worlds of readers, and praises her\npersuasive voice as that of a sweet siren of thought. Don Garcia\nRibadeneyra, with the grandiose wit of his day, says in a decima\nthat this extraordinary woman surpassed the sun, for her glorious\ngenius rose where the sun set, that is to say, in the West; and Don\nPedro Alfonso Moreno argues piously that St. John the Baptist's three\ncrowns of Virgin, Martyr, and Doctor were in measure those of Madre\nJuana, who was from early years chaste, poor in spirit, and obedient,\naccording to the vow of religious women. Don Luis Verdejo declares\nthat she transferred the lyceums of the Muses to Mexico, and that\nthe light of her genius is poured upon two worlds. Padre Cabrera,\nchaplain of the Most Excellent Duke of Arcos, asserts that the\nEternal Knowledge enlightened Juana in all learning. \"Only her fame\ncan define her,\" writes one of her own sex; and when the Poetess of\nthe Cloister wrote with her own blood a protestation of faith, it was\nsaid of this \"Swan of erudite plume\" that she wrote like the martyr\nto whose ink of blood the earth was as paper. Her gift of books to\nbe sold in order to relieve the poor inspired Se\u00f1ora Catalina de\nFernandez de Cordova, nun in the Convent of the Holy Ghost in Alcara,\nto say thus thoughtfully:\n\n      \"Without her books did Juana grow more wise,\n      As for their loss she studied deep content.\n      Know, then, that in this human school of ours,\n      He only is wise who knows to love his God.\"\n\nAt thought of her death, Don Luis Mu\u00f1oz Venegas, of Granada, wonders\nthat the sun shines, that ships sail, that earth is fair, that all\nthings do not grieve her loss, whose happy soul in its beatitudes\nenjoys the riches of which death has robbed the world--sweetness,\npurity, felicity. Fray Juan de Rueda, professor of theology in the\ncollege of San Pablo; Licentiate Villalobos of San Ildefonso, and\nSe\u00f1or Guerra, fellow of the same college; Advocate Pimienta, of the\nRoyal Audience, and Bachelor Olivas, a presbyter; Syndic Torres,\nCatedratico or Professor Aviles, Cavalier Ulloa, have all something\nto say in Spanish or Latin on the death of our poetess. Doctor Aviles\nimagines the death of Sor Juana to be like that of the rose, which,\nhaving acquired in a brief age all its perfection, needed not to live\nlonger. Don Diego Martinez suggests beautifully that the profit which\nother excellent minds will derive from the posthumous writings of the\npoetess will be like the clearness which the stars gain by the death\nof the sun. Mingled with these honest tributes of admiration is much\nextravagance of comparison; but they prove at least that Sor Juana\nwas regarded by the learned of her day as a woman of astonishing\npowers.\n\nAmid all her studies and labors, we read that Sister Juana was\nconstant in her religious devotions, and faithful to the least rules\nof her order. But her conscientious spirit, moved by a letter of\nBishop Fernandez of Puebla, determined her at length to renounce the\nexercise of her talents for the strictest and purest ascetism. Hence,\none of her Mexican critics is led to say that we have only the echoes\nof her songs, only the shades of her images, inasmuch as her sex\nand state, and the reigning scholasticism, were not convenient for\nthe true expression of her thoughts. The noble, ascetic literature\nof Spain, respecting which it is with reason boasted that the world\ncontains nothing of the kind more valuable, discredits in good part\nthis supposition. Moreover, the recognition of Sor Juana's work and\ngenius was, as we have seen, not inconsiderable. The world is still\nin its infancy as regards religious ideality, and, spite of the\nhighest evidences, often refuses to believe that thoughts fed from\nthe divine source can fulfil the true poem of life, be it written\nor acted. What the thoughts of Sor Juana were like in her ordinary\nreligious life we understand partly from a number of daily exercises\nand meditations which have come down to us. Here are specimens of\nthese compositions:\n\n    EXERCISE.\n\n    On this day, at seeing the light come forth, bless\n    its Author who made it so beautiful a creation, and\n    praise him with a submissive heart; not only because\n    he created it for our good, but because he made it a\n    vassal to his mother and our mediatrix. Go to Mass with\n    all possible devotion, and those who can, let them fast\n    and give thanks to God. Thou shalt sing the canticle\n    _Benedicite omnia opera Domini Domino_ and the verse\n    _Benedicite lux_. Understand that not only the just\n    ought to praise God, who are themselves as light, but\n    the sinners who are as darkness. Consider yourselves\n    such, every one of you, and mourn for having added to\n    the original transgression, darkness upon darkness,\n    sins upon sins. Resolve to correct thyself; and that\n    Mary's purest light may reach you, recite a _Salve_,\n    and nine times the _Magnificat_, face to the ground,\n    and fly from all sin this day, even the shadow thereof.\n    Abstain from all impatience, murmurings, repinings, and\n    suffer with meekness those evils which are a repugnance\n    to our nature. If it be a day of discipline of the\n    community, that is enough, but if not, it shall be\n    especially made so. Those who do not know how to read\n    Latin shall recite nine _Salves_ mouth to the ground,\n    and shall fast if they are able, and if not, they shall\n    make an act of contrition, so that the Lord may give\n    them light for his timely service, even as he gave them\n    material light by which to live.\n\n    MEDITATION.\n\n    If we look at the properties of the firmament, what\n    more assimilates to the miraculous constancy of Mary,\n    whom neither those steeped in original sin could make\n    fall, nor the combats of temptation make stumble!\n    But still, amid the torrents and tempests of human\n    miseries, between the troubles of her life, and the\n    painful passion and death of her most holy Son and our\n    most beloved Saviour; amid the waves of incredulity in\n    the doubts of his disciples; among the hidden rocks\n    of the perfidy of Judas, and the uncertainty of so\n    many timid souls--ever was her constancy preserved.\n    Not only was she firm, but beautiful as the firmament,\n    which (according to the mathematicians) hath this other\n    excellence, that it is bordered by innumerable stars,\n    but has only seven planets which are fixed and never\n    move. Thus, holiest Mary was not only most pure in her\n    conception, transparent and translucent, but afterwards\n    the Lord adorned her with innumerable virtues which\n    she acquired, even as the stars which border that most\n    beautiful firmament; and she not only had them all,\n    but had them fixed, all immovable, all in order and\n    admirable concert: but if in the other children of\n    Adam we see some virtues, they are errant--to-day we\n    have them, to-morrow they are gone--to-day is light,\n    to-morrow darkness. We will rejoice in her prerogative,\n    and say unto her:\n\n    OFFERING.\n\n    Honored Lady, and crown of our human being, divine\n    firmament where the stars of virtue are fixed, give\n    their benign influence to us, thy devoted ones, that\n    by thy favor we may cure ourselves and acquire them;\n    and that light which thou dost partake of the Sun of\n    Righteousness, communicate it to our souls, and fix in\n    them thy virtues, the love of thy precious Son, and\n    thy sweetest and tenderest devotion, and of thy happy\n    husband, our patron and advocate, St. Joseph.\n\nThese compositions doubtless give us a better idea of the interior\nthought of Mexican monasticism than some yellow-covered speculations.\nIn that life grew the finest genius, the greatest woman, perhaps the\nmost remarkable character in all respects that Mexico ever produced.\nConsidering the time and place in which she wrote, the New World\nhas scarcely produced her superior among women of genius. Up to the\nnineteenth century America had, doubtless, no, literary product\ncomparable to the poems of Sor Juana Ines. What Cabrera, was to the\nart, Sor Juana seems to have been to the literature of her country;\nand both these workers of genius gave their powers to the service of\nreligion. It is here worthy of remark that not only were the greatest\npainter and poet of Mexico studious servants of the church, but that\nits most celebrated scientist was the Jesuit Siguenza y Gongora,\nauthor of a funeral eulogy of Sor Juana Ines, whom he knew and\nappreciated, for he, too, was a poet. Without social helps, without\nemulation, such as is ordinarily understood, such proofs of her high\nintelligence as we possess have come to light. Perplexed as it was\nwith the mannered erudition of the schools, her poetry nevertheless\nreveals noble sensibility and thought in superior forms. Thus she\nsings in her verses entitled \"Sentiments of Absence:\"\n\n      \"Hear me with eyes,\n      Now that so distant are thine ears;\n      Of absence my laments;\n      In echoes from my pen the groans;\n      And as can reach thee not my voice so rude,\n      Hear thou me deaf, since dumbly I complain.\"\n\nThis is like a voice of the Elizabethan age; but what _woman_ even of\nthat day has left us so rare a record of poetry and piety combined as\nthe nun of San Geronimo, she who lived in 1670 in far-off, outlandish\nMexico? What chapter of literature would seem too good to entertain\nthis Tenth Muse, to whom we owe such sonnets as these:\n\nTO A PAINTER OF OUR LADY, OF MOST EXCELLENT PENCIL.\n\n      If pencil, although grand in human wise,\n      Could make a picture thus most beautiful,\n      Where even clearest vision not refines\n      Thy light, O admirable--yet in vain:\n      How did the author of thy sovereign soul\n      Proportion space to his creation fair!\n      What grace he painted, and what loveliness!\n      The scope more ample, greater was the hand.\n      Was found within the sphere of purest light\n      The pencil, schooled within the morning-star,\n      When thou wert dawned, Aurora most divine?\n      Yea, thus indeed it was; but verily\n      The sky has not paid back thy cost to him\n      Who spent in thee more light than it has now.\n\nTHE LOVERS.\n\n      Feliciano loves me, and I hate him;\n      Lizardo hates me, and I do adore him;\n      For him who does not want me, do I cry,\n      And him who yearns for me, I not desire.\n      To him who me disdains, my soul I offer,\n      And him who is my victim, I disdain.\n      Him I despise who would enrich my honor,\n      And him who doth contemn me, I'd enrich.\n      If with offence the first I have displeased,\n      The other doth displease by me offended--\n      And thus I come to suffer every way;\n      For both are but as torments to my feelings--\n      This one with asking that which I have not,\n      And that in not having what I'd ask.\n\nTHE ROSE.\n\n      Celia beheld a rose that in the walk\n      Flourished in pride of springtime loveliness,\n      And whose bright hues of carmine or of red\n      Bathed joyfully its delicate countenance--\n      And said: Enjoy without the fear of fate\n      The fleeting course of thy luxuriant age,\n      Since will not death be able on the morrow.\n      To take from thee what thou to-day enjoyest;\n      And though he come within a little while,\n      Still grieve thou not to die so young and fair:\n      Hear what experience may counsel thee--\n      That fortunate 'tis to die being beautiful,\n      And not to see the woe of being old.\n\nTHE DECEPTION.\n\n      This that thou seest, a deception painted,\n      Which of art's excellence makes display,\n      With curious counterfeit of coloring,\n      Is an insidious cheating of the sense.\n      This, wherewithin has flattery pretended\n      To excuse the grim deformity of age,\n      And vanquishing the rigor hard of time\n      To triumph o'er oblivion and decay;\n      Is but the shallow artifice of care,\n      Is as a fragile flower within the wind;\n      It is a useless guard 'gainst destiny;\n      It is a foolish and an erring toil;\n      'Tis labor imbecile, and, rightly scanned,\n      Is death, is dust, is shadow, and is naught.\n\nThese rude translations give but a poor idea of the poet's\nexpression, but they allow the height and quality of her intellect to\nbe understood. In one of her most thoughtful poems, the _Romance on\nthe Vanity of Science_, she argues against self-seeking knowledge,\nand the perils to which genius exposes itself by too much seeking its\nown devices. This poem is so representative and remarkable that we\nmust give it entire quotation:\n\nROMANCE.\n\n        Finjamos que soy feliz,\n      Triste pensamiento un rato;\n      Quiz\u00e1 podreis persuadirme,\n      Aunque yo s\u00e9 lo contrario.\n\n          Feign we that I am happy,\n            Sad thought, a little while,\n          For, though 'twere but dissembling,\n            Would thou couldst me beguile!\n\n        Que, pues solo en la aprension\n      Dicen que estriban los da\u00f1os;\n      Si os imaginais dichoso.\n      No sereis tan desdichado.\n\n          Yet since but in our terrors\n            They say our miseries grow,\n          If joy we can imagine,\n            The less will seem our woe.\n\n        Sirvame el entendimiento\n      Alguna vez de descanso;\n      Y no siempre est\u00e9 el ingenio\n      Con el provecho encontrado.\n\n          Must our intelligences\n            Some time of quiet find;\n          Not always may our genius\n            With profit rule the mind.\n\n        Todo el mundo es opiniones,\n      De paraceres tan varios,\n      Que lo que el uno, que es negro,\n      El otro prueba que es blanco.\n\n          The world's full of opinions,\n            And these so different quite.\n          That what to one black seemeth\n            Another proves is white.\n\n        A unos sirve de atractivo\n      Lo que otro concibe enfado;\n      Y lo que este por alivio\n      Aquel tiene por trabajo.\n\n          To some appears attractive\n            What many deem a bore;\n          And that which thee delighted\n            Thy fellow labors o'er.\n\n        El que est\u00e1 triste, censura\n      Al alegre de liviano;\n      Y el que est\u00e1 alegre, se burla,\n      De ver al triste penando.\n\n          He who is sad condemneth\n            The gay one's gleeful tones;\n          He who is merry jesteth\n            Whene'er the sad one groans.\n\n        Los dos filosofos griegos\n      Bien esta verdad probaron,\n      Pues, lo que en el uno risa,\n      Causaba, en el otro llanto.\n\n          By two old Greek wiseacres\n            This truth well proved appears;\n          Since what in one caused laughter,\n            The other moved to tears.\n\n        C\u00e9lebre su oposicion\n      Ha sido, por siglos tantos,\n      Sin que c\u00faal acert\u00f3, est\u00e9\n      Hasta agora averiguado.\n\n          Renowned has been this contest\n            For ages, without fruit,\n          And what one age asserted\n            Till now is in dispute.\n\n        Antes en sus dos banderas\n      El mundo todo alistado,\n      Conforme el humor le dicta,\n      Sigue cada c\u00faal su bando.\n\n          Into two lists divided\n            The world's opinions stand.\n          And as his humor leads him\n            Follows each one his band.\n\n        Uno dice, que de risa\n      Solo es digno el mundo vario;\n      Y otro, que sus infortunios\n      Son solo para llorarlos.\n\n          One says the world is worthy\n            Only of merriment;\n          Another, its distresses\n            Call for our loud lament.\n\n        Para todo se halla prueba\n      Y razon en que fundarlo;\n      Y no hay razon para nada,\n      De haber razon para tanto.\n\n          For all opinions various\n            Some proof or reason's brought,\n          And for so much there's reason\n            That reason is for naught.\n\n        Todos son iguales jueces\n      Y siendo iguales, y varios.\n      No hay quien pueda decidir\n      C\u00faal es lo mas acertado.\n\n          All, all are equal judges,\n            And all of different view,\n          And none can make decision\n            Of what is best or true.\n\n        \u00bfPues sino hay quien lo sentencie,\n      Por qu\u00e9 pensais vos, errado,\n      Que os cometi\u00f3 Dios \u00e1 vos\n      La decision de los casos?\n\n          Then since can none determine,\n            Think'st thou, whose reason strays,\n          To thee hath God committed\n            The judgment of the case?\n\n        \u00bfO por que, contra vos mismo,\n      Severamente inhumano,\n      Entre lo amargo, y lo dulce\n      Quereis elegir lo amargo?\n\n          O why, to thyself cruel,\n            Dost thou thy peace reject?\n          Between the sweet and bitter,\n            The bitter dost elect?\n\n        \u00bfSi es mio mi entendimiento,\n      Por qu\u00e9 siempre he de encontrarlo\n      Tan torpe para el alivio,\n      Tan agudo para el da\u00f1o?\n\n          If 'tis mine my understanding,\n            Why always must it be\n          So dull and slow to pleasure,\n            So keen for injury?\n\n        El discurso es un acero\n      Que sirve por ambos cabos;\n      De dar muerte por la punta,\n      Por el pomo de resguardo.\n\n          A sharp blade is our learning\n            Which serves us at both ends:\n          Death by the point it giveth,\n            By the handle, it defends.\n\n        \u00bfSi vos sabiendo el peligro\n      Quereis por la punta usarlo,\n      Que culpa tiene el acero\n      Del mal uso de la mano?\n\n          And if, aware of peril,\n            Its point thou wilt demand,\n          How canst thou blame the weapon\n            For the folly of thy hand?\n\n        No es saber, saber hacer\n      Discursos sutiles, vanos,\n      Que el saber consiste solo\n      En elegir lo mas sano.\n\n          Not is true wisdom knowing\n            Most subtle speech and vain;\n          Best knowledge is in choosing\n            That which is safe and sane.\n\n        Especular las desdichas,\n      Y examinar los presagios,\n      Solo sirve de que el mal\n      Crezca con anticiparlo.\n\n          To speculate disaster,\n            To seek for presages,\n          Serves to increase affliction,\n            Anticipates distress.\n\n        En los trabajos futuros\n      La atencion sutilizando.\n      Mas formidable que el riesgo\n      Suele fingir el amago.\n\n          In the troubles of the future\n            The anxious mind is lost,\n          And more than any danger\n            Doth danger's menace cost.\n\n        \u00a1Que feliz es la ignorancia\n      Del que indoctamente sabio,\n      Halla de lo que podece\n      En lo que ignora sagrado!\n\n          Of him the unschooled wise man\n            How happy is the chance!\n          He finds from suffering refuge\n            In simple ignorance.\n\n        No siempre suben seguros\n      Vuelos del ingenio osados,\n      Que buscan trono en el fuego,\n      Y hallan sepulcro en el llanto.\n\n          _Not always safe aspire\n            The wings that genius bears,\n          Which seek a throne in fire,\n            And find a grave in tears._\n\n        Tambien es vicio el saber\n      Que si no se va atajando,\n      Cuanto menos se conoce\n      Es mas nocivo el estrago.\n\n          And vicious is the knowledge\n            That seeking swift its end\n          Is all the more unwary\n            Of the woe that doth impend.\n\n        Y si vuelo no le abaten\n      En sutilezas cebado,\n      Por cuidar de lo curioso\n      Olvida lo necesario.\n\n          And if its flight it stops not\n            In pampered, strange deceits,\n          Then for the curious searching\n            The needful it defeats.\n\n        Si culta mano no impide\n      Crecer al arbol copado,\n      Quitan la sustancia al fruto\n      La locura de los ramos.\n\n          If culture's hand not pruneth\n            The leafage of the tree,\n          Takes from the fruit's sustainment\n            The rank, wild greenery.\n\n        \u00bfSi andar a nave ligera,\n      No estorba lastre pesado;\n      Sirve el vuelo de que sea\n      El precipicio mas alto?\n\n          If all its ballast heavy\n            Yon light ship not prevents,\n          Will it help the flight of pinions\n            From nature's battlements?\n\n        En amenidad inutil,\n      Que importa al florido campo.\n      Si no halla fruto el oto\u00f1o\n      Que ostente flores el mayo.\n\n          In verdant beauty useless,\n            What profits the fair field\n          If the blooming growths of springtime\n            No autumn fruitage yield?\n\n        \u00bfDe que le sirve al ingenio\n      El producir muchos partos,\n      Si a la multitud le sigue\n      El malogro de abortarlo?\n\n          And of what use is genius\n            With all its work of might,\n          If are its toils rewarded\n            By failure and despite?\n\n        Y\u00e1 esta desdicha, por fuerza\n      Ha de seguirle el fracaso\n      De quedar el que produce.\n      Si no muerto, lastimado.\n\n          And perforce to this misfortune\n            Must that despair succeed,\n          Which, if its arrow kills not,\n            Must make the bosom bleed.\n\n        El ingenio es como el fuego,\n      Que con la materia ingrato,\n      Tanto la consume mas,\n      Cuanto el se ostenta mas claro.\n\n          Like to a fire doth genius\n            In thankless matter grow;\n          The more that it consumeth,\n            It boasts the brighter glow.\n\n        Es de su proprio se\u00f1or\n      Tan rebelado vasallo,\n      Que convierte en sus ofensas\n      Las armas de su resguardo.\n\n          It is of its own master\n            So rebellious a slave,\n          That to offence it turneth\n            The weapons that should save.\n\n        Este pesimo ejercicio,\n      Este duro afan pesado,\n      A los hijos de los hombres\n      Di\u00f3 Dios para ejercitarlos.\n\n          Such exercise distressful,\n            Such hard anxiety,\n          To all the sad world's children\n            God gave their souls to try.\n\n        \u00bfQue loca ambicion nos lleva\n      De nosotros olvidados,\n      Si es para vivir tan poco,\n      De que sirve saber tanto?\n\n          What mad ambition takes us\n            From self-forgetful state,\n          If 'tis to live so little\n            We make our knowledge great?\n\n        Oh! si como hay de saber,\n      Hubiera algun seminario,\n      O escuela, donde \u00e1 ignorar\n      Se ense\u00f1ara los trabajos!\n\n          Oh! if we must have knowledge,\n            I would there were some school\n          Wherein to teach not knowing\n            Life's woes, should be the rule.\n\n        \u00a1Que felizmente viviera,\n      El que flotamente cauto;\n      Burlara las amenazas\n      Del influjo de los astros!\n\n          Happy shall be his living\n            Whose life no rashness mars;\n          He shall laugh at all the threatenings\n            Of the magic of the stars!\n\n        Aprendamos \u00e1 ignorar\n      Pensamientos, pues hallamos,\n      Que cuanto a\u00f1ado al discurso,\n      Tanto le usurpo \u00e1 los a\u00f1os.\n\n          Learn we the wise unknowing,\n            Since it so well appears\n          That what to learning's added\n            Is taken from our years.\n\nWe may dispute, in some respects, the drift of Sister Juana's\nphilosophy; but we cannot question the poetic wisdom of many of her\nreflections. How true it is that in a multitude of reasons one finds\nno reason at all; that the rank overgrowth of knowledge does not\nbear the best fruit; that genius, allied with base substance, grows\nbrighter, by a kind of self-consuming; that wisdom can sometimes\nfind refuge in ignorance! No one, be his fame what it may, has\nstated a grand and touching truth with better force than appears in\nSor Juana's grave misgiving with regard to the genius \"which seeks\na throne in fire, and finds a sepulchre in tears.\" Is not this the\nhistory, at once sublime and pathetic, of so many failures of the\nrestless intellect? Sor Juana knew how to preach from such a text,\nfor she was a rare scholar, and mistress of verse, and religious\nwoman. The variety of her literary employments was considerable, in\ncomparison with the bulk of Mexican verse and prose, notwithstanding\nthe old-fashioned manners of her cloistered muse. She wrote, in\naddition to sonnets and romances, the dramatic religious pieces\ncalled loas and autos, among which we find dialogues and acts\nentitled \"The Sceptre of St. Joseph,\" \"San Hermengildo,\" and \"The\nDivine Narciso.\" Her poetic moods were not, it appears, limited to\nhymns and to blank-verse; indeed, she had the qualities of a ripe\npoet--humor, fancy, imagination, able thought, and, if anything else\nshould be added, doubtless the reader will find it in the ideality of\na sonnet so superb as the one in praise of Our Lady. Of her religious\ntenderness we have a fine example in the following lines from \"El\nDivino Narciso,\" which have been compared by a Mexican critic to\nthe best mystical songs of St. John of the Cross and other Spanish\nascetics. They convey the appeal which the Shepherd of Souls makes to\na soul which has strayed from the flock:\n\n      O my lost lamb,\n      Thy master all forgetting,\n      Whither dost erring go?\n      Behold how now divided\n      From me, thou partest from thy life!\n\n      In my tender kindness,\n      Thou seest how always loving\n      I guard thee watchfully,\n      I free thee of all danger,\n      And that I give my life for thee.\n\n      Behold how that my beauty\n      Is of all things beloved,\n      And is of all things sought,\n      And by all creatures praised.\n      Still dost thou choose from me to go astray.\n\n      I go to seek thee yet,\n      Although thou art as lost;\n      But for thee now my life\n      I cannot still lay down\n      That once I wished to lose to find my sheep.\n\n      Do worthier than thou\n      Ask these my benefits,\n      The rivers flowing fair,\n      The pastures and green glades\n      Wherein my loving-kindness feedeth thee.\n\n      Within a barren field,\n      In desert land afar,\n      I found thee, ere the wolf\n      Had all thy life despoiled,\n      And prized thee as the apple of mine eye.\n\n      I led thee to the verdure\n      Of my most peaceful ways,\n      Where thou hast fed at will\n      Upon the honey sweet\n      And oil that flowed to thee from out the rock.\n\n      With generous crops of grain,\n      With marrowy substances,\n      I have sustained thy life,\n      Made thee most savory food,\n      And given to thee the juice of fragrant grapes.\n\n      Thou seekest other fields\n      With them that did not know\n      Thy fathers, honored not\n      Thy elders, and in this\n      Thou dost excite my own displeasure grave.\n\n      And for that thou hast sinned\n      I'll hide from thee my face,\n      Before whose light the sun\n      Its feeble glory pales;\n      From thee, ingrate, perverse, and most unfaithful one.\n\n      Shall my displeasure's scourge\n      Thy verdant fields destroy,\n      The herb that gives thee food;\n      And shall my fires lay waste,\n      Even from the top of highest mountains old.\n\n      My lightning arrows shall\n      Be drawn, and hunger sharp\n      Shall cut the threads of life,\n      And evil birds of prey\n      And fiercest beasts shall lie in wait for thee.\n\n      Shall grovelling serpents show\n      The venom of their rage,\n      By different ways of death\n      My rigors shall be wrought;\n      Without thee by the sword, within thee by thy fears.\n\n      Behold I am thy Sovereign,\n      And there is none more strong;\n      That I am life and death,\n      That I can slay and save,\n      And nothing can escape from out my hand.\n\nOur last quotation from Sister Juana's poems will be one of those\ntributes which, in verse or prose, she so often paid to the Blessed\nVirgin. It is a song taken from her villancicos, or rhymes for\nfestivals. The literary manners of her time seem to have obscured\nthe native excellence of her thought, but the buoyant style of the\nfollowing lines meets with little objection from her modern Mexican\ncritic:\n\n      To her who in triumph, the beautiful queen,\n      Descends from the airs of the region serene;\n      To her who illumines its vaguest confine\n      With auroras of gold, and of pearl and carmine;\n      To her whom a myriad of voices confessed\n      The lady of angels, the queen of the blest:\n      Whose tresses celestial are lightly outborne\n      And goldenly float in the glory of morn,\n      And waving and rising would seek to o'erwhelm\n      Like the gulfs of the Tibar an ivory realm:\n      From whose graces the sunlight may learn how to shine,\n      And the stars of the night take a brilliance divine,\n      We sing thee rejoicing while praises ascend,\n      O sinless, O stainless! live, live without end.\n\nThe scarcity of the poems of Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, even in\nher native land, is cause for wonder, but not if we first remark\nthat still greater marvel--the long-continued discomposure of\nMexican society. It is one hundred and seventy years since the\nparchment-bound book, from which we have drawn a number of facts\nin the life of the _Poetisa_, was published. Our impression of the\nrarity and age of her printed works, as derived from acquaintance\nwith educated Mexicans in their own country, tempts us to doubt\nwhether they have been issued in any complete shape during the\npresent century. For a good portion of the extracts we have presented\nwe are indebted to an intelligent and scholarly review prepared in\nMexico, two years ago, by Don Francisco Prinentel, the author of a\nnumber of books on the races and languages of Mexico. Outside of the\nmonastic or rich private libraries of that country, it is doubtless\na task of much difficulty to find the poems of Sor Juana. For this\nreason we are disposed to excuse the able American historian of\nSpanish literature for omitting everything in relation to her except\nthe mere mention of her name as a lyrical writer. It is hoped,\nhowever, that this notice of her life and works, probably the first\nwhich has appeared in the United States, will supply the omission\nof what should be a chief fact in any American notice of Spanish\nliterature. The claim which we make for Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz,\nas regards the literature of the New World, is not short of the very\nhighest.\n\n\n\n\nDION AND THE SIBYLS.\n\nA CLASSIC, CHRISTIAN NOVEL.\n\nBY MILES GERALD KEON, COLONIAL SECRETARY, BERMUDA, AUTHOR OF \"HARDING\nTHE MONEY-SPINNER,\" ETC.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\nAt the golden gate of the Temple courtyard, a Roman legionary soldier\n(detailed as body-servant to the General Paulus) met him. The soldier\nwas leading a small, wiry Tauric (or really Tartar) horse. Paulus,\ntwisting a lock of the animal's mane in his left hand, and taking\nup with the little finger thereof the loop of the bridle, sprang\ninto the ephippia. The soldier smiled, as the still handsome and\nyouthful-looking legatus settled himself on the back of his steed.\n\n\"Why are you smiling, my man?\" quoth Paulus good-humoredly.\n\n\"It was like the spring I saw you take years ago at Formi\u00e6, when\nI was a boy, upon the back of the horse Sejanus, which no man, my\ngeneral, ever rode save you,\" replied the soldier.\n\n\"Ah!\" said Paulus, smiling sadly; \"were you there? I fear I am not so\nagile now. We are all passing away.\"\n\n\"Just as agile still, my general,\" returned the legionary, in a\ncordial tone; \"but about twice as strong.\"\n\n\"Away! begone!\" cried Paulus, laughing; \"I am growing old.\" And\nshaking the reins, he waved a salute to Longinus, turned his pony\nround, and rode away again into the valley westward, while the\ncenturion entered the city by the golden gate, and repaired under the\nwalls of the Temple to Fort Antonio, where he was detailed as officer\nof Pilate's guard that night.\n\nPaulus, meanwhile, rode slowly on his way, between the Kedron Brook\nand the walls of Jerusalem, till he came to the Pool of Siloam.\nThere, he turned south, galloped to a fort which was near, turned\nback again to his right, or northward, followed the valley of Hinnom\nat a walking pace, looking up at the white and dazzling buildings on\nMount Zion.\n\nAs he slowly passed them, he speculated which could have been David's\npalace. He saw Herod's plainly enough. On his right he noticed the\naqueduct from Solomon's Pool, and followed its course as far as the\nTower of Hippicus northward. There he entered the city by the Gate of\nGennath, and followed the valley of the Cheesemongers (or Tyrop\u00e6on\nhollow) until he came to Ophal.\n\nIn the middle of a very narrow street in this low and crowded\nquarter, where the Romans afterward under Titus were repulsed,\nhe met a file of people, some mounted, some on foot, led by a\nrichly-dressed, haughty-looking, burly man, riding a mule.\n\nSo narrow was the street that either Paulus would have had to go\nback as far as the Tower of Marianne, or the richly-dressed and\nhaughty-looking man about one-quarter of the distance, to the\nbridge between the street of the Cheesemongers and the court of the\nGentiles. Paulus, always full of courtesy, amenity, and sweetness,\nwas in the very act of turning his small Tauric horse, when the burly\nman in rich dress, who led the opposing file, called out, \"Back! low\npeople! Back, and let Caiaphas go by!\"\n\n\"And who is Caiaphas?\" demanded Paulus, instantly facing round again\nand barring the way.\n\n\"The high-priest of Jerusalem,\" was the answer, thundered forth in\nrude and minatory tones.\n\n\"I respect,\" said Paulus, \"and even revere that holy appellation;\nbut he who uses it at this moment, for some present purpose, has\nflung against me, who am a Roman general, the mandate of _Back, low\npeople_. Where are the low people? I do not believe that I am a low\nperson. Where, then, are the low people?\"\n\n\"Come on,\" cried the imperious voice of Caiaphas.\n\nHe himself, being the file leader, began then to move forward, till\nhe came immediately in front of the traveller who had so courteously\nspoken to him.\n\n\"If you want,\" said Paulus, \"to pass me at once, I must get into the\nditch, or throw you into it; which do you prefer?\"\n\n\"I prefer,\" quoth Caiaphas, \"that you should throw me into the\nditch, if you either dare or can.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" says Paulus, \"I am sorry for the sentiment you express, or at\nleast imply. But I will stand up against your challenge of throwing\nyou into the ditch, because I both could do it, and dare do it, as\na Roman soldier, only that there is ONE among you who has come to\nsettle all our disputes, and who has a divine right to do so. For\nhis sake I would rather be thrown into that drain by you--soldier,\nofficer, general, and Roman as I am--than throw you into it.\"\n\n\"Let me pass,\" cried Caiaphas, purple with rage.\n\nPaulus, whose behavior at Lake Benacus against the Germans, and\npreviously at Formi\u00e6, and afterward in the terrible Calpurnian House\non the Viminal Hill, the reader remembers, made no answer, but,\nriding back to the Tower of Marianne, allowed the high-priest and\nhis followers there to pass him; which they did with every token of\nscorn and act of contumely that the brief and sudden circumstances\nallowed. Caiaphas thus passed on to his country-house at the\nsouthwest-by-south of Jerusalem, where he usually spent the night.\n\nPaulus then put his pony into a gallop, and soon reached the bridge\nacross the Tyrop\u00e6on into the courtyard of the Temple, commonly called\nthe courtyard of the Gentiles. Such was the nervous excitement caused\nby his recent act of purely voluntary, gratuitous, and deliberate\nself-humiliation, that he laughed aloud as he rode through the Temple\nyard, coasting the western \"cloisters,\" and so reaching Fort Antonio.\n\nThere his servant, the Roman legionary, who had before met him at the\ngolden gate, and whose name was Marcus, was awaiting him.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\nThat night the palace of Herod the tetrarch resounded with music,\nand all the persons of rank or distinction in Jerusalem were among\nthe guests. The entertainment would have been remembered for years\non account of its brilliancy; it was destined to be remembered for\nall ages, even till the day of doom, on account of its catastrophe,\nchronicled in the books of God, and graven in the horror of men.\n\nPaulus, unusually grave, because experiencing unwonted sensations,\nand anxious calmly to analyze them, was assailed for the first time\nin his life by a feeling of nervous irritability, which originated\n(though he knew it not) in his having suppressed the natural desire\nto chastise the insolence of Caiaphas that morning. He sat abstracted\nand silent, not far from the semi-royal chair of Herod the tetrarch.\nHis magnificent dress, well-earned military fame, and manly and grave\nbeauty (never seen to greater advantage than at that period of life,\nthough the gloss of youth was past) had drawn toward him during the\nevening an unusual amount of attention, of which he was unconscious,\nand to which he would have been indifferent.\n\nThe \"beauty of the evening,\" as she was called (for in those days\nthey used terms like those which we moderns use, to express our\ninfatuation for the gleams of prettiness which are quenched almost\nas soon as they are seen), had repeatedly endeavored to attract his\nattention. She was royal; she was an unrivalled dancer. Herod, who\nbegan to feel dull, begged her to favor the company with a dance,\n_sola_. Thereupon the daughter of Herodias looked at Paulus, to whom\nher previous blandishments had been addressed in vain (he was well\nknown to be unmarried), and heaved a fiery sigh. The mere noise of\nit ought to have awakened his notice, and yet failed to accomplish\neven that small result. Had it succeeded, he was exactly the person\nto have regarded this woman with a feeling akin to that which, some\ntwo-and-twenty years before, she herself (or was it Herodias? they\nage fast in the East) had waked in the bosom of his sister under the\nveranda in the bower of Crispus's inn, leading out of the fine old\nLatian garden near the banks of the Liris.\n\nShe proceeded to execute her _ballet_, her _pas seul_, her dance of\nimmortal shame and fatal infamy. Cries of delight arose. The creature\ngrew frantic. The court of Herod fell into two parties. One party\nproclaimed the performance a perfection of elegance and spirit. The\nother party said not a word, but glances of painful feeling passed\namong them. The clamorous eulogists formed the large majority. In the\nsilent minority was numbered Paulus, who never in his life had felt\nsuch grave disgust or such settled indignation. He thought of his\npure and innocent Esther--alas, _not_ his! He thought that, had it\nbeen his sister Agatha who thus outraged every rudimentary principle\nof the tacit social compact, he could almost find it in his heart to\nrelieve the earth of her.\n\nThus pondering, his glance fell upon Herod the tetrarch. The tetrarch\nseemed to have become delirious. He was laughing, and crying, and\nslobbering, and clapping his hands, and rolling his head, and\nrocking his body on the great state cushion under the canopy, where\nhe \"sat at table.\" While Paulus was contemplating him in wonder and\nshame, the wretched dancer came to an end of her bounds. Indecency,\nscientifically accidental, had been the one simple principle of the\nexhibition. Herod called the practised female before him, and, in the\nhearing of several, bade her demand from him any reward she pleased,\nand declared upon oath that he would grant her demand. Paulus heard\nthe answer. After consulting apart with her mother, she reapproached\nthe tetrarch, and, with a flushed face, said that she desired the\nhead of a prisoner upon a dish.\n\n\"What prisoner?\"\n\n\"John,\" said she.\n\nPaulus gazed at the miserable tetrarch, \"the quarter of a king,\" not\nfrom the height of his rank as a Roman general, but from the still\ngreater height which God had given him as one of the first, one of\nthe earliest of European gentlemen. He knew not then who John was.\nBut that any fellow-creature in prison, not otherwise to be put to\ndeath, should have his head hewn off and placed upon a dish, because\na woman had tossed her limbs to and fro in a style which pleased a\ntetrarch while it disgraced human society, appeared to Paulus to be\nless than reasonable. What he had said, the tetrarch had said upon\noath.\n\nA little confusion, a slight murmuring and whispering ensued, but\nthe courtly music soon recommenced. Paulus could not afterward tell\nhow long it was before the most awful scene he had ever witnessed\noccurred.\n\nA menial entered, bearing, on a large dish, a freshly-severed human\nhead, bleeding at the neck.\n\n\"It was not a jest, then,\" said Paulus, in a low voice to his next\nneighbor, a very old man, whose face he remembered, but whose name he\nhad all the evening been trying in vain to recall--\"it was not a base\njest, dictated by the hideous taste of worse than barbarians!\"\n\n\"Truly,\" replied the aged man, \"these Jews are worse than any\nbarbarians I ever saw, and I have seen most of them.\"\n\nPaulus recognized at these words the geographer Strabo, formerly his\ncompanion at the court of Augustus.\n\nAt a sign from Herod, the menial carrying the dish now approached the\ndaughter of Herodias, and presented to her the bleeding and sacred\nhead. She, in turn, took the dish and offered it to Herodias, who\nherself bore it out of the room with a kind of snorting laugh.\n\nPaulus rose slowly and deliberately from his place near the tetrarch,\nat whom he steadily looked.\n\n\"This, then,\" said he, \"is the entertainment to which you have\ninvited a Roman legatus. You are vexed, people say, that Pilate,\nthe Roman governor of this city, could not honor your birthday by\nhis presence in your palace. Pilate's local authority is of course\ngreater than mine, for I have none at all; but his real, permanent\nrank, and your own real, permanent importance, are contemptible by\nthe side of those which a Roman soldier of such a family as the\n\u00c6milian has gained on the field of battle; and it was a high honor to\nyourself to succeed in bringing me hither. And now, while disgracing\nyour own house, you have insulted your guests. What is the name of\nthe man you have murdered because a woman dances like a goat? What is\nhis name?\"\n\nThe tetrarch, astonished and over-awed, replied with a bewildered\nlook:\n\n\"What authority to rebuke me, because I took my brother's wife, had\nJohn?\"\n\n\"John who?\" asked Paulus, who from the outset had been struck by the\nname.\n\n\"He who was styled John the Baptist,\" said the tetrarch.\n\nThe words of another John rang in Paulus's memory; and he exclaimed:\n\n\"What! John the Baptist? John the Baptist, yea, and more than a\nprophet--John the Angel of God! Is this he whom you have slain?\"\n\n\"What had he to say to my marriage?\" answered Herod, through whose\npurple face a livid under-color was penetrating to the surface.\n\n\"Why,\" exclaimed Paulus, \"the holy books of your own nation forbade\nsuch a marriage, and John could not hear of it without rebuking you.\nI, although a Gentile, honor those books. Out upon you, impious\nassassin! I ask not, where was your mercy, or where your justice; but\nwhere has been your sense of common decency, this evening? I shall\nnever cease to lament that I once stood under your roof. My presence\nwas meant as an honor to you; but it has proved a disgrace to myself.\"\n\nTaking his scarlet cloak, he flung it over his shoulders, and left\nthe hall amid profound silence--a silence which continued after he\nhad quitted the courtyard, and begun to descend from Mount Zion\nto the labyrinth of streets branching downward to the Tyrop\u00e6on\nValley. In one of these, under a bright moonlight, he met again that\nsame beautiful youth whom he had seen in the morning when he was\ndescending the Mount of Olives.\n\n\"Stay!\" cried Paulus, suddenly stopping in his own rapid walk. \"Said\nyou not, this morning, that he who was called 'John the Baptist' was\nmore than a prophet? Herod has this moment slain him, to please a\nvile woman. The tyrant has sent the holy prophet out of life.\"\n\n\"Nay; into life,\" replied the other John; \"but, brave and noble\nRoman--for I see you are both--the Master, who knows all things, and\nrejoices that John has begun to live, grieves as well.\"\n\n\"Why grieves?\" inquired Paulus, musing.\n\n\"Because,\" replied the other John, \"the Master is verily man, no less\nthan _He is Who is_.\"\n\n\"What, then, is he?\" asked Paulus, with a look of awe.\n\n\"He is the Christ, whom John the Prophet, now a witness unto death,\nhad announced.\"\n\nHereupon the two went their several ways, Paulus muttering: \"_The\nsecond name in the acrostic._\"\n\nBut, really, he had ceased to care for minor coincidences in a huge\nmass of convergent proofs all gaining possession of his soul, and\ntaking alike his will and his understanding captive--captive to the\nirresistible truth and the equally irresistible beauty of the message\nwhich had come. The immortality of which he was an heir, the reader\nhas seen him long since believing; and long since also rejecting both\nthe pantheism of the philosophers and the polytheism of the vulgar.\nAnd here was a great new doctrine authoritatively establishing all\nthat the genius of Dionysius had guessed, and infinitely more;\ntruths awful and mysterious, which offered immediate peace to that\nstupendous universe that is within a man, while assuring him of\npower, joy, and honor to begin some day, and nevermore to end.\n\nHe had not been in Jerusalem long before he learnt much of the new\nteaching. He had secured for his mother, close to the Fortress\nAntonio, where he himself lodged, a small house belonging to a widow\nwho, since her husband's death, had fallen into comparative poverty.\nThe Lady Aglais, attended still by her old freedwoman, Melena, was\nallowed the best and coolest part of this house entirely to herself,\nwith a staircase of their own leading to the flat roof. There they\npassed much of their evenings after the sun had set, looking at the\nthickly-built opposite hills, the mansions on Zion, or down into\nthe Tyrop\u00e6on from which the hum of a great multitude came, mellowed\nby the distance, and disposing the mind to contemplation. Many\nwonderful things, from time to time, they heard of him who was now\nteaching--things some of which, nay, the greater part of which, as\none of the sacred writers expressly declares, never were recorded,\nand the whole of which could not be contained in the libraries of\nthe world. It may well, then, be imagined in what a situation Paulus\nand his mother were--having no interest in disbelieving, no chair\nof Moses to abdicate, no doctorial authority or pharisaic prestige\ninciting them to impugn the known truth--in what a situation they\nwere, for accepting or declining what was then offered.\n\nAfter twenty years of separation, a trace of Esther had been\nrecovered by Paulus. One evening, his mother was on the flat roof of\nher residence awaiting his customary visit, when her son appeared and\nalarmed her by his pallor. He had seen Esther on foot in a group of\nwomen at the Gate of Gennath, going forth into the country, as he was\nentering the city on horseback. Aglais smiled sadly, saying: \"Alas!\ndear son, is that all? I long since knew that she still lived; but I\nwould not disturb your mind by the useless intelligence.\"\n\n\"Scarcely altered,\" murmured Paulus abstractedly, \"while I am quite\nold. Yes, she must now be past thirty; yes, near thirty-five.\"\n\n\"As to that,\" said the mother, \"you are thirty-eight, and scarcely\nseem twenty-nine. Old Rebecca, the mistress of this house, who lives\nstill in the ground-story, as you are aware, has told me much about\nEsther.\"\n\n\"She is married, I suppose,\" said Paulus, with a look of anxiety.\n\n\"No,\" replied Aglais. \"She has had innumerable offers (spite of her\ncomparative poverty), and has declined them all.\"\n\n\"But what boots it?\" exclaimed Paulus.\n\n\"Old Josiah Maccabeus is dead,\" said Aglais. And here mother and son\ndropped the subject by mutual consent.\n\nThe dreadful days, closed by the most awful day the world has\nknown--closed by the ever-memorable and tremendous Friday--came and\nwent. On the Saturday, Paulus met Longinus, who said he had been\non Mount Calvary that afternoon, and that he, Longinus, was now\nand ever henceforth a disciple of him who had been crucified. The\nSunday came, and brought with it a prodigious rumor, which, instead\nof dying out, found additional believers every day. The disciples,\nmost of whom had shown themselves as timid as they were known to be\nignorant, now seemed transformed into new characters, who loudly\naffirmed that their Master had risen from the dead by his own power;\nand they were ready to face every torment and all terrors calmly in\nthe maintenance of this fact, which they predicted would be received\nand acknowledged by the whole world. And, indeed, it was no longer\na rumor, but a truth, attested by the only witnesses who could by\npossibility know anything about it, either for or against; and whose\nearthly interests it would have been to deny it, even while they knew\nit to be true--witnesses who, if they knew it to be false--and they\ncertainly knew whether it were true or false (this much was granted,\n_and is still granted_, by all their opponents)--could have had no\nmotive, either earthly or unearthly, for feigning that they believed\nit.\n\nSo pregnant is this simple reasoning, that a man might ponder it\nand study it for a whole month, and yet find fresh strength and an\never-increasing weight in the considerations which it suggests; not\neven find a flaw if he made the one month twelve. Paulus's mind\nwas determined, and so was his mother's. The son sought that same\nbeautiful youth whom he had seen twice before; told him the new\ndesire, the new belief, which had made his mother's and his own heart\nglad; and by him they were baptized as Christians, disciples of him\nthat had been crucified--by that fair youth, I say, who was to be\nknown for ever among men as \"Saint John the Evangelist.\"\n\n\"After all, mother,\" said Paulus, when they were returning together\nto her dwelling, \"it is not so very mysterious; I mean that\ndifficulty about the lowliness of our divine Teacher's chosen place\namong men. Because, see you, if the builder of those glorious stars\nand that sublime firmament was to come at all amongst us, he would\nbe certain to take the lowest and smallest lot, lest we should deem\nthere was any difference as before him. We are all low and small\ntogether--the earth itself, I am told, being but a sort of Bethlehem\namong the stars; but, anyhow, we are but mites and emmets on a blade\nof grass in his sight, and had he taken a great relative place amidst\nus, it might countenance the lie and the delusion of our silly pride.\nThat part of it is to me not so mysterious, although I don't wonder\nat the Jewish notion that their Messiah was to have been a great\nconquering prince--that is probably what the Antichrist will be. It\nwould suit the blindness of vanity better.\"\n\nAs he spoke the words, they heard a quick footstep behind, and\nwere overtaken by Longinus, who, saying he had just heard of their\nreception, greeted them with every demonstration of rapturous\naffection.\n\n\"Now,\" pursued he, walking by their side, \"good for evil to Master\nPaulus's family. Forgive the apparent intrusion, dear general, if I\nmention that I happen to know the story of your youthful love, as all\nthe world have witnessed your fidelity to an unavailing attachment.\nBut learn from poor Longinus that Esther Maccabeus is now a disciple;\nand the Christian maiden can wed, under a still holier law, the brave\nGentile whom the Jewess was bound to refuse.\"\n\nWith this he turned into an alley under the court of the Gentiles,\nand disappeared.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\nOne still and sultry evening, the decline of a brooding day in\nspring, two persons were sitting on the flat roof of a house in\nJerusalem. They were the Athenian Lady Aglais and her son, the\ncomparatively youthful Roman General Paulus--he who has so largely\nfigured, even from his gallant boyhood, in the events and affairs we\nhave been recording.\n\nIt was the 30th of March, and a Wednesday--the first of all\nEaster-Wednesdays--the first in that new and perpetual calendar by\nwhich, throughout the fairest regions of earth, among all enlightened\nnations and civilized races, till the crash of doom, time was for\nevermore to be measured.\n\nA servant, carrying a skin-cask slung over his shoulders, was\nwatering the flowers, faint with thirst; and these, arranged in\nfanciful vases, which made an artificial garden of the housetop,\nshook their drooping heads under the fresh and grateful shower, and\nseemed to answer it with smiles of a thousand blooms and rays. As\nthe man stole softly to and fro about the roof, now approaching the\nlady and her son, now receding, he seemed, in spite of the foreign\nlanguage in which they spoke, and in spite of the low and hushed tone\nthey observed, to follow, with intense and breathless though stealthy\nexcitement, the tenor of their conversation; while his figure, in the\nlast evening rays, cast a long, shifting shadow that streaked with\nblack the yellow flood to its farthest limit, climbed the parapet,\nbroke upon its grail-work of balusters, and then was beheaded, for it\nflung off its head out of sight into empty space, leaving the calm\nbright air unblotted above the stone guard-wall.\n\nAn occurrence took place of which (that Wednesday evening) Paulus\nand his mother were witnesses--an occurrence in dumb show, the\nsignificance of which they were destined, only after several\nyears, to learn; yet the incident was so singular, so strange, so\nimpressive--it was such a picture in such a quarter--that when,\nlong subsequently, the explanation came, they seemed to be still\nactually assisting in person at the scene which, while they beheld\nit, they had no means of understanding. We are going, in one moment,\nto relate that occurrence; and we must here request the reader to\ngrant us his full belief and his confidence when we remark that, in\ncomparison of his amusement, his profit, and that mental gallery of\npictures to be his henceforth (which we try to give to all who honor\nthese pages with a perusal), we feel the sincerest contempt for any\nmere display of scholarship or learning. For this reason, and this\nreason alone, and certainly from no scantiness, and still less from\nany lack of authorities, we shall almost disencumber our narrative\nof references to the ancient writers and recondite documents (such\nas the _Astronomic Formula of Philip Arid\u00e6us_) which establish as\npositive historical facts the more striking of the occurrences still\nto be mentioned. In one instance the intelligent reader will discern\nthat the most sacred of all evidence supports what we have to record.\nBut if we were to show with what nicety of precision much profane,\nyet respectable and even venerable, testimony accords with the\npassage here meant in the Acts of the Apostles, and how abundantly\nsuch testimony corroborates and supplements the inspired account,\nthis book would cease to be what it aims at being, and would become a\nhistorical treatise of the German criticism school.[3]\n\nSatisfied, therefore, with the footnotes below (at which the reader\nwill oblige us by just glancing, and which are appended, in perfect\ngood faith and simple honesty, as implying no more than we could\nmake good), we will avoid boring those who have a right to, and who\nexpect, the conclusion of a straightforward story at our hands.[4]\n\nPaulus and his mother were conversing, as has been described,\nin Greek, while the serving-man, despite his ignorance of that\nlanguage, had the air of half-following the drift of what they said,\nand of catching the main purport of it with wonder and awe. There\nwas, indeed, at that moment, only one topic in all Jerusalem. He\nwho, less than a week ago, had been crucified, and with the time\nof whose coming (as much as with all the particulars of his life,\nteaching, works, and death) the old prophecies were found more and\nmore startlingly, circumstantially, unmistakably, the more they were\nstudied, questioned, and canvassed, to agree, point by point, down\nto what would seem even trivial details (indicated as if merely to\nemphasize the incommunicable identity of the Messiah)--he had himself\nstated, distinctly and publicly, that, by his own power, he would\nrise from the dead in three days; that, in three days after, he\nshould be \"lifted up\" and be made \"a spectacle for men and angels;\"\nin three days after they should have destroyed it, he would rebuild\nthe holy temple of his body. And now these rumors--these minute,\nthese positive accounts--had he, then, really reappeared, according\nto his word and promise? Was it possible? Was it the fact?\n\nMany had, on the previous Friday night, stated that, of a verity,\nthey had seen their deceased parents and relatives. Again, on the\nSaturday, many declared, amid awe-stricken groups of listeners, that\nthe unknown land had sent them its visitants, in various places,\nunder various aspects, to startle the guilty city; which, after\nkilling the King's messenger-servants, had just killed the King's\nSon, who had come, as had been a thousand times announced, in the\nvery fulness, the exact maturity of days, to deliver the final\nembassy to men.\n\nOn that Wednesday evening, there was, in truth, but one theme of\nconversation, one subject of thought, all through Jerusalem, and\nalready far beyond Jerusalem; among poor and rich, high and low,\nnatives and strangers, the robbers of the Syrian hills and Arabian\ndeserts, the dwellers in the city, the travellers on the roads and at\nthe inns, among Sadducees, Pharisees, Romans, Greeks, Egyptians, and\nbarbarians.\n\nNo wonder, then, if the humble serving-man, as he watered the\nflowers, penetrated the drift of the mother's and the son's\ndiscussion. For him and such as he was the message. The poor Syrian\nhad once, for a while, rendered occasional out-door service to the\nfamily of Lazarus; and he had known Lazarus in three states--had\nknown him living, dead, again alive. After days of death in that\nfierce climate, where inanimate flesh putrefies fast, he had beheld\nLazarus, at the call of one upon whose lineaments he gazed, at the\ntime, with unconscious adoration, come forth, not merely from death,\nbut from incipient decomposition, back into balmy life--back to the\n\"vita serena.\"\n\nNow, was he who, in that instance, had allowed it to be perceived and\nfelt that he was really the Lord of life, whom death and rottenness\nwere manifestly unable to disobey--was he himself, as his disciples\ndeclared he was, living again among them, since the morning of\nthe last Sunday (the _feria prima_), according to his own public\nprediction and distinct promise? Was he not? Was he?\n\nAglais and Paulus had heard more than one circumstantial account of\nthis, his reappearance, according to that, his promise. By this one\nand by the other he had been met. They had gazed upon him, spoken\nto him, heard him in reply, touched him, in such a place, on that\nbridge, that road, in such a garden. He had walked conversing with\nthem, had sat with them at meat, had broken bread with them, as was\nhis wont, had then vanished.\n\nWhere was his body, over which the Pharisees had set their guard\nof soldiers? Not in the grave. No; but where? Had the Pharisees\naccounted for it? Could they tell what had become of it? Could the\nsoldiers? The disciples could, and they did.\n\n\"Mother,\" said Paulus, \"do you know what those soldiers say? One of\nthem once served in a legion which I commanded. Do you know what they\nsay?\"\n\n\"You mean,\" replied Aglais, \"about their inability to hinder the\nabstraction. What?\"\n\n\"That an act to which they are the only witnesses could not be\nstopped by them, because of it they were not witnesses, being buried\nin sleep.\"\n\n\"Consistent,\" said the Greek lady. \"Yes; but a much weightier fact\nis that expectation of the disciples, to prevent the realization of\nwhich the Pharisees set their guard.\"\n\n\"What expectation? And why weightier? What can be weightier?\" asked\nthe general.\n\n\"That their Master would keep his word, and fulfil his prediction of\nrising from the tomb on the third day. If they saw him again alive\nwithin the promised time, they and the people would worship him as\nGod; but, if the Pharisees could show the body on the third day, or\ncould even account for it, that belief would die.\"\n\n\"Clearly,\" answered Paulus, \"the disciples expected to see him again\non and after the third day, waiting for his word to be fulfilled.\"\n\n\"Now, Paulus,\" pursued Aglais, \"suppose this expectation of theirs\nnot fulfilled; suppose that not one of those waiting for his word was\nconscious of any reason for believing it to have been realized--\"\n\nPaulus interrupted his mother.\n\n\"There is only one possible way in which they could be induced to\nbelieve it realized--namely, that he should be seen again alive.\"\n\n\"Quite so,\" she resumed. \"But suppose that he has not been seen;\nsuppose that not one of those who expected to see him again has thus\nseen him. How would they then feel on this Wednesday morning?\"\n\n\"They would feel that the expectation which he had solemnly and\npublicly authorized them to depend upon was idle and vain; they would\nnot and could not by any possibility feel that they had, in this\ngreat particular, reason to consider his word to have been kept. They\nwould be discouraged to the very last degree. They would, of course,\nhide themselves. I would do so myself, and I believe I am no coward.\nIn short, they would feel no reason to hope in his protection, or to\nexpect that his other and still mightier promises concerning their\nown future eternal life would by him be realized. They would not\nincur any inconvenience, or brave any danger, or take any trouble, or\nrisk any loss--\"\n\nIt was Aglais's turn to interrupt.\n\n\"Now, is this their attitude?\" she inquired.\n\n\"The reverse, the opposite, the contradictory of their attitude.\"\n\nThe lady continued in a low tone: \"If, expecting, upon his own\nassurance, that some among them should see him,\" she asked, \"not one\nof them had seen him, would they, at this moment, have any motive\nfor bringing upon themselves the tortures, insults, shame, and death\nwhich he underwent, and all this in order to induce others to believe\napparitions and a resurrection which in their own hearts they did\nnot themselves believe, and for believing which they were, moreover,\nconscious that they possessed no ground, no reason, no pretext?\"\n\nA sweet, ringing, vibrant voice at their side here said:\n\n\"And in order by deliberate circumstantial lying, of an awful and\nblasphemous kind, to please the God of truth; and to compensate\nthemselves by his protection above, in a future life, for the\npresent and immediate destruction which they are incurring among the\nPharisees and the men of power here below!\"\n\nLooking round, they beheld Esther of the Maccabees.\n\nNever had she seemed to Paulus so beautiful; but there was a marked\nchange; for, however intellectual had always been the translucent\npurity of that oval brow, through which, as through a lamp of\nalabaster, shone the vivid mind within, there was now the mysterious\neffluence of \"that Essence increate\" who had come to abide in, and\nhad strangely transfigured the appearance of, the faithful-souled\nHebrew maiden. And when Paulus, after she had embraced his mother,\nabstractedly took her hand, his heart was lifted upward with a\nspecies of wonder; and, without adverting to it, he was asking\nhimself to what marvellous kingdom she had become heiress, in what\nsupernal court of everlasting joy and unassailable prerogatives\nwas this beautiful creature destined to live, loving and beloved,\nadorning almost the glories which she reflected, dispensed, and\nmultiplied, as if from some holy, mysterious, and spiritual mirror.\n\n\"O dear Lady Aglais! and O legatus!\" she said, with a gesture amazing\nin its expressiveness and pathetic fervor (she had brought the\nfinger-tips of both hands together under the chin, and then lowered\nthem with the palms outward toward her hearers, and so she stood\nin an attitude of the utmost grace and dignity combined, like one\nappealing to the candor and good faith of others)--\"O dear friends!\nI was just now passing through my own garden on my way hither, when,\nunder the fig-tree (where he used to sit poring over the holy books\nof our people), I beheld my dead father, but standing, and not in\nhis old accustomed wicker-chair; and he gazed upon me with large,\nearnest eyes; and as he stood, his head almost touched the leaves\nof that hollow, embowering fig-tree; and he was pale, so extremely\npale as he was never during life; and he called me: 'Esther,' he\nsaid, and his voice sounded far away. Ah! my God, from what a huge\ndistance it seemed to come! And lo! lady, and thou, legatus, he said\nthese words to me: 'I have been in the vast, dim house, and have seen\nour Father Abraham; and I have seen our great Lawgiver, and all our\nprophets, excepting only two, Elias and Enoch; and I asked, Where\nwere they? And in all the dim, vast house none answered me, but the\nforefinger was pressed to the silent lips of those who there waited.\nAnd, suddenly, there was the noise of innumerable armies coming\nswiftly from afar--but your ears are mortal and your eyes veiled,\nand were I even permitted to tell you that which shook, beyond this\nlittle world, the large world and its eternal thrones, your mind\nwould not at present understand my words. Enough, Esther, that I have\nbeen allowed to renew to you, in my own behalf, and that of others\namong our people who have been called before you to the vast, dim,\nsilent city, the exhortation which our ancestor Judas Maccabeus\nsent with offerings to the high-priest; namely, that you will pray\nfor our spirits. Our innumerable company has just been thinned; the\nglorious Judas Maccabeus, our ancestor, and that holy mother of the\nMaccabees, and almost all who were waiting with me in the dim, vast\nkingdom of expectation, have gone for ever; and I, and a few, have\nbeen commanded to expect yet a little time; until the incense of holy\nprayer shall have further gone up in the presence of the Great White\nThrone.'\"\n\nEsther paused, her eyes dilated, and stood a moment with the hands\nagain brought together; and so perfect a figure of truthfulness,\nand such an impersonation of sincerity, she looked, that the\nJewish servant, who understood not a word of the tongue in which\nshe addressed the Greek lady and her son, gazed at her; his work\nsuspended, his cask held high in air, with all the marks of one who\nheard and accepted some sacred and unquestionable revelation.\n\n\"Go on, dear child,\" said Aglais. \"What passed further?\"\n\n\"I asked the pale image what this meant, that he should term the\ncondition in which he is waiting and has yet to wait a little\ntime--that vast, dim condition--'a house,' 'a city,' and 'a kingdom.'\n'The dwellers,' he replied, 'are watched in that kingdom by silent\nprotectors, mighty and beautiful, whose faces, full of a severe, sad\nlove, are the torches and the only light those dwellers ever see; and\nthe vast, dim city has a sunless and a starless sky for its roof,\nunder which they wait; and that sky is the ceiling which echoes the\nsighs of their pain; and thus to them it has been a kingdom, and a\ncity, and a house; and, until the ninth hour of last Friday, they\nwere numerous as the nations of men!' 'And at the ninth hour of that\nday, I asked, 'O my father! what occurred when so many departed, and\nyou and a small number were left still to wait?' And he gazed at me\nfor an instant with a wan and wistful look; then, lo! I saw nothing\nwhere he had been standing under the fig-tree.\n\n\"But it was at the ninth hour of the last Friday the Master had\nexpired by the side of the penitent who was that very day to be with\nhim in paradise!\" cried Aglais.\n\nAt Esther's arrival, Paulus and Aglais had both risen from a kind of\nsemicircular wicker settle which occupied one of the corners of the\nroof; and they now, all three, when Esther had finished her strange,\nbrief narrative, leaned silent and musing against the parapet;\nwhere, under the shade of a clustering rhododendron, they had a view\nwestward (drawn, as people are who ponder, toward whatever object is\nmost luminous) of the towers and palaces and pinnacles of the Holy\nCity, then reddening in the sunset. One word respecting the spot\nwhere the little group was thus collected, and (among modern, and\nespecially western, nations) concerning its peculiar scenic effects.\n\nThe roof was an irregular parallelogram, protected on all sides\nby a low, thick parapet, at two opposite corners of which, in the\ndiagonals, were two doors of masonry, bolted with massive round bars\nof iron, or left open; thus excluding or admitting communication with\nthe contiguous houses. The writer, many years ago, saw such parapet\ndoors on the house-tops of modern Algiers; nor was the arrangement\nunknown in the more famous Eastern cities of antiquity, where the\nroofs glowed with plants in vases. When, on some public occasion,\nthe passages were opened, the richer inhabitants, far above the\nnoise, dust, squalor, sultriness, and comparative darkness of the\nnarrow and noisome streets, could stroll and lounge for miles, in\nmid-air, among flowers; could cross even flying and embowered bridges\n(of which a privileged number possessed the keys, like those who have\nkeys to the gardens of our squares); and so Dives, unseen of Lazarus,\nbut seeing far down all things little and supine, could wander\nthrough parterres of bloom, and perfumed alleys, and shrubberies of\nenchantment, with effects of sunlight sprinkled, so to speak, with\ncoolness and with shadows, soothed out of the noonday fierceness\ninto tints various and tender; unsoiled of the stains and pains that\nstained and pained the poor sordid world below; until the hearts\nof those who thus promenaded amid circumstances of such delicious\nrefinement and luxury, bearing and hearing news, and exchanging\ncivilities, were \"lifted up,\" and became even like to the heart of\nNabuchodonosor the king. Sometimes the pecten-beaten dulcimer, or\nthe fingered lyre of six strings, made long-forgotten airs of music\nbeguile the declining day, and linger for hours longer, ravishing the\nnight under the stars of the Syrian sky. Such the scene.\n\nBut none of the roof-doors were open that Wednesday evening.\nSomething ailed the Holy City. Out of the hushed heavens, mysteries\nand a stern doom were brooding over Jerusalem. Already the fermenting\ngerm of those dreadful factions which were to tear to pieces, with\nintestine rage, the whole Jewish body, while the city was writhing\nin the vain death-struggle against Titus, a few years later, had\nbegun to make itself sensible to the observant. A fierce hatred of\nthe Romans and an insane eagerness to re-establish the old Jewish\nindependence had taken possession of certain youthful fanatics; and\n\"possessed\" indeed they seemed. On the one side, the Roman officers\nof the garrison, from Pilate down, had received anonymous warnings,\nin the wildest style, requiring them to withdraw from Jerusalem\nwithin a given time, or they should be all executed in the streets,\nas opportunity might occur; on the other, the prefect of Syria had\nbeen earnestly requested by Pilate to strengthen the garrison; while\nin the city itself the soldiers were strictly admonished to keep\nto their quarters, to avoid late hours, and to hold no intercourse\nwhen off duty with the inhabitants. Leaves of absence were stopped.\nA few legionaries had been already murdered in the neighborhood\nof wine-shops, in the small winding alleys, and in places of evil\nrepute, and no efforts succeeded in identifying the perpetrators.\n\nBut these were only the feeble and evanescent symptoms, destined to\ndisappear and reappear, of a political and social phase which was not\nto become the predominant situation until another situation should\nhave exhausted its first fury. This, the first, was to be the war\nof the Synagogue against the disciples of the Messiah, whom those\ndisciples went about declaring to have risen from the tomb, according\nto his distinct promise; whom they went about declaring to have been\nalready seen, and heard, and touched by themselves, again and again.\n\nNo wonder, then, if Aglais and Paulus and Esther had discussed in\nhushed tones and in Greek the wonders and various portents attendant\nupon the supreme and central fact--that Resurrection of the Master\nwhich absorbed their whole hearts and minds, leaving no room for\nany other interest therein at this tremendous epoch--the grand\nturning-point of human destinies and of our whole planet's history.\n\nFrom the parapet against which they were leaning, they now gazed in\nsilence upon the splendid scenes below and opposite. Across a maze of\nnarrow streets they saw the mansions, the pinnacles, the towers, and\nthat great supernal \"Temple of God,\" all so soon to perish violently,\nin a general, a complete, and an irreversible destruction. They saw\nthe play of light and shadow upon one long tree-lined side of Herod's\nproud palace; they saw the ripple of quivering leaves reflected\nupon the white colonnades (and their tessellated, shady floors) of\nPilate's fatal house; and, while revolving thoughts and questions of\nunspeakable importance and solemnity, they all three suddenly beheld\nan acted picture, a passing scene, voiceless to them, yet impressive,\nwhich blent itself into their recollection of other scenes, never to\nbe effaced from the memory of mankind, which, not a week before, had\nbeen under those very colonnades enacted.\n\nA woman in the attire of a Roman matron came quickly forth upon the\nfirst-story balcony in the house of Pontius Pilate, and, leaning over\nthe rail, waved her hand with an imperative gesture to some one below.\n\nShe was followed into the balcony more slowly by a man wearing the\ngrand costume of an ancient Roman military governor, who held in his\nhand a sealed and folded letter, tied with the usual silk string.\nThe man was evidently Pilate himself. He looked long and gloomily at\nthe letter, and seemed to be plunged in thought. He even let what he\ncarried fall at his feet, and did not appear to be aware of this\nfor some moments. It was the woman who picked up the letter, and\ngave it back into his hand. Then Pilate leaned over the balustrade,\nin his turn, and spoke to a man below in military costume, who was\nmounted on a powerful horse, and seemed to be equipped for travel.\nThe soldier saluted, looking up, when he was addressed, and saluted\nagain when his superior had ceased speaking; whereupon Pilate dropped\nthe letter (a large and heavy dispatch), which the soldier caught and\nsecured under his belt, inside the tunic, or \"sagum,\" immediately\nafterward riding away at a canter. Our three friends saw Pilate, his\nhead bent and his eyes on the ground, slowly and ponderingly re-enter\nthe house by a screen-door, the same through which he had come out\nupon the balcony; but the lady, clasping her hands a little in front\nof her forehead, gazed into the heavens with a face ashy pale, and\nwith eyes from which tears were streaming.\n\nIt is a well-known and for centuries universally received tradition,\nbesides being a fact recorded by one most respectable and trustworthy\nauthor (who, besides, was not a Christian, but a Jew)--a fact\nwithout which the allusions to it in various ancient authorities,\ntogether with Phlegon the Chronologer's subsequent recital of\nTiberius's extraordinary conduct, would be unintelligible and\nunaccountable--that Pontius Pilate, harassed by the unappeasable\nreproaches of his wife, and stung by something within his own bosom\nwhich allowed him peace no more, until (sleepless, and unable again,\nunable for ever, to sleep) he bequeathed, some years afterward, by\nan awful death, whether intentional or not, his name to a great\nAlpine hill, a hill not thenceforth named, or to be named, while\ntime and mountains last, by any name but \"Pilate's\" among distant\nand then barbarous nations--it is well known, I say, that Pilate\nsent to Tiberius C\u00e6sar a long and minute relation concerning the\nlife, the death, and the disappearance from the tomb of him whom\nhe had scourged, and whom the Jews had crucified, together with a\nnotice of the supernatural wonders wrought by him; his previous\nnotorious announcement of his own intended resurrection; the directly\nconsequent and equally notorious precautions taken to hinder it;\nthe disappearance, in spite of this, of the body; the testimony of\nthe soldiers that they were witnesses _to_ the abstraction, which\nthey were unable to stop, because they alleged that they were not\nwitnesses _of_ it (being buried in sleep); that, in fact, their\ntestimony proved nothing save the body's disappearance from the\nmassively-sealed tomb (which would have stood a small siege); the\nfailure of the Synagogue to account for the body; the account of it\nby the disciples; and, finally, the admissions of the Pharisees that\nall their prophets had become unexplainable if this was not their\nMessiah, yet that such a conclusion was to them impossible, because\nhe was to have been their king, and a conquering king, and to have\nfounded an empire extending through all nations and tongues; their\nstern and ever-growing disaffection to the Roman rule; the universal\namazement, excitement, and anxiety arising from the circumstance\nthat, while neither the Synagogue nor the soldiers could throw any\nlight upon what had become of the body, the disciples of him who\nhad predicted his own resurrection explained the event openly and\nfearlessly by stating that they had again and again met him since the\nprevious _feria prima_; that they cared for no protection except his\nalone; that the dead was once more among them--living, and henceforth\nimmortal--their Master and God; the ultimate Judge of this world, and\nthe foretold Founder of an everlasting kingdom! Pilate added several\nstrange and astounding particulars.\n\nThis, in a general way, is known; and it is likewise known that\nTiberius C\u00e6sar was so deeply impressed by the dispatch of the\nJerusalem governor, arriving in his hands about the same moment, as\nwe shall find in the next chapter, when a strange incident (_narrated\nby Plutarch_) took place, that he suddenly convened the senate in a\nformal indiction, _and proposed to them to raise a temple to Christ,\nand to rank him solemnly among the gods of the empire_! But not such\nnor of such acknowledgments was to be the kingdom of the \"jealous\"\nand the only God.\n\nAglais, Paulus, and Esther had assisted at a memorable pantomime.\nThey had beheld the mounted soldier who rode with a memorable letter\nto the sea-coast; they had seen the vain effort of him who had\noffered the people a choice between Barabbas and \"the desired of\nnations,\" to call the great of the earth into his perplexities, to\nquiet his awakened conscience, to turn aside from the dread warnings\nwhispered to his soul, to lull--by futile means--an all too late\nremorse.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\nIn our last chapter, Paulus and his Athenian mother had obtained,\nthrough Esther's recital of her waking dream or vision, one little\nglimpse at that prison, that place of detention, which she had termed\n(as she herself had heard it termed) \"the dim, vast house,\" \"the\nvast, dim city,\" and the \"dim, vast kingdom.\"\n\nThe vague notion she could give of that scene of immurement cannot\nbe expected to prove interesting to so large a number, as Mr.\nPickwick has cause to feel an interest in his glimpses of the \"Fleet\nPrison,\" once famous in London. But such interest as the former\nhouse of detention commands is of a different kind, and those who\nmay experience it are a different class. Plato (as a great critic\nobserves) has been translated from age to age into some dozen great\nmodern languages, in order that he might be read by about a score of\npersons in each generation. But that score are the little fountains\nof the large rivers that bear to the sea the business of the world.\nFew are directly taught by Kant, Sir William Hamilton, John Stuart\nMill, Cousin, or Balmez; but the millions are taught and think\nthrough those whom _they_ have taught to think. Between the good and\nevil originators or conservators of ideas, and the huge masses who\ndo all their mental processes at third hand, stand the interpreters;\nand these listen with bent heads, while they hold trumpets which are\nheard at the extremities of the earth.\n\nPaulus lingered in Jerusalem. Weeks flew by. Spring passed into\nsummer; summer was passing into autumn; and still, from time to time,\nas, in the evenings, mother and son sat among the flowers on the flat\nroof, Esther would join them.\n\nOne night, she had hardly appeared, when Longinus the centurion\nfollowed her, bearing a letter for Paulus, which, he said, had\njust arrived at Fort Antonio, by the hands of an orderly, from the\ngovernor. The letter was from Dionysius of Athens, now _l'un des\nquarante_, a member of that great Areopagus of which the French\nAcademy is partly a modern image; and it was written immediately\nafter his return from a tour in Egypt, and a cruise through the\n\u00c6gean Sea, among the famous and beautiful Greek Islands, to resume\nhis duties as a teacher of philosophy and a professor of the higher\nliterature at Athens.\n\nPaulus, after a word with his mother and Esther, desired Longinus\nto favor them with his company. Sherbets and other refreshments\nwere brought. They all sat down on the semicircular wicker settle\nat the corner of the roof, under the bower-like branches of the\nlarge rhododendron; a small lamp was held for Paulus by the Jewish\nserving-man, and Paulus read the letter aloud to that sympathetic\ngroup. Extracts we will give, in the substance, concerning two\noccurrences. The first, as the reader sees, the listening circle\nlearned from Dionysius; but _we_ have it in reality from Plutarch,\nupon whose narrative Eusebius and many other weighty authorities and\ngrave historians have commented.\n\nThe captain and owner (for he was both) of the vessel in which Dion\nsailed back from Egypt to Athens was an Egyptian of the name of\nThramnus (some call him Thamus). He said that a very weird thing had\nhappened to him in his immediately previous trip, which had been from\nGreece to Italy. Dion was at the time at Heliopolis, in Egypt, with\nhis friend, the celebrated philosopher Apollophanes, who, though\n(like Dion himself) only between twenty and thirty, had already (in\nthis also resembling Dion) obtained an almost world-wide fame for\neloquence, astronomical science, and general learning. When Thramnus\nhad neared the Echinades Islands, the wind fell, a sudden calm came,\nand they had to drop anchor near Paxos. The night was sultry; every\none was on deck. Suddenly, from the lonely shore, a loud, strange\nvoice hailed the captain: \"Thramnus!\" it cried. None answered. Again,\nlouder than human, came the cry, \"Thramnus!\" Still none answered. For\nthe third time, \"Thramnus!\" was thundered from the lonely coast. Then\nThramnus himself called out: \"Who hails? What is it?\" Shrill and far\nlouder than before was the voice in reply: \"When you reach the Lagoon\nof Palus, announce then that the Great Pan is dead.\"\n\nThereupon, everything became silent, save the sluggish wash of the\nwaves under the vessel's side. A sort of council was at once held on\nboard; and first they took a note of the exact date and the hour.\nThey found that it was exactly the ninth hour of the sixth _jeria_,\nor day, in the month of March, in the fourth year (according with\nPhlegon's corrected and checked astronomical chronology) of the two\nhundred and second Olympiad: in other words, this, being translated\ninto modern reckoning, means, six in the afternoon of Friday, the\n25th of March, in the thirty-third year of our Lord.\n\nDion breaks off in his letter here to remark: \"You will learn\npresently what happened to me and to Apollophanes, and to the whole\nrenowned city of Heliopolis, at the same hour exactly of that same\nday; and it is the coincidence between the two occurrences which has\nfixed them so deeply in my mind.\"\n\nWell; he proceeds to say that Thramnus, having asked his passengers,\nwho happened to be unusually numerous, whether they considered he\nought to obey this mysterious mandate, and having suggested himself\nthat, if, on their reaching Palus, or Pelodes, the wind held fair,\nthey should not lose time by stopping, but if the wind were there\nto fail, and they were forced to halt at that place, then it might\nbe no harm to pay attention to the injunction, and see what came\nof it, they were all unanimously of his opinion. Thereupon, as\nthough by some design, in the midst of a calm the breeze sprang up\nfreshly again, and they proceeded on their way. When they came to the\nindicated spot, all were again on deck, unable to forget the strange\nincident at Paxos; and, on a sudden, the wind fell, and they were\nbecalmed.\n\nThramnus, accordingly, after a pause, leaned over the ship's side,\nand, as loudly as he could, shouted that _the great Pan was dead_. No\nsooner had the words been pronounced than all round the vessel were\nheard a world of sighs issuing from the deep and in the air, with\ngroans, and moanings, and long, wild, bitter wailings innumerable, as\nthough from vast unseen multitudes and a host of creatures plunged in\ndismay and despair. Those on board were stricken with amazement and\nterror. When they arrived in Rome, and were recounting the adventures\nof their voyage, this wild story sent its rumor far and near, and\nmade such an impression that it reached the ears of Tiberius C\u00e6sar,\nwho was then in the capital. He sent for Thramnus and several of the\npassengers, as Plutarch records for us, particularly one, Epitherses,\nwho afterward, at Athens, with his son \u00c6milianus, and the traveller\nPhilip, used often to tell the story till his death. Tiberius, after\nascertaining the facts, summoned all the learned men who chanced then\nto be in Rome, and requested their opinion.\n\nTheir opinion, which is extant, matters little. The holy fathers\nwho have investigated this occurrence are divided in their views.\nIt must be remembered that Plutarch relates another truly wonderful\nfact universal in its range, as being notoriously simultaneous\nwith the singular local adventure above described--the sudden\nsilence of Delphi, and all the other famous pagan oracles, from the\n8th day before the Kalends of April, in the 202d Olympiad, at six\nP.M. At that hour, on that day (March 25, Friday, Anno Domini 33),\nthose oracles were stricken dumb, and nevermore returned answers\nto their votaries. Coupling these phenomena together, in presence\nof a thousand other portents, the holy fathers think, one party of\nthem, that the enemy of man and of God, and that enemy's legions,\nwere grieving and wailing, at the hour which Plutarch specifies\n(the time of evening, and on the very day, when our Lord died), at\nthe redemption just then consummated; others, that the Almighty\npermitted nature \"to sigh through all her works,\" in sympathy with\nthe voluntary sufferings of her expiring Lord.\n\n\"Now, hearken,\" proceeded Dion in his letter, \"to how I was occupied,\nhundreds of miles away, in Heliopolis, at the time, the very hour of\nthe very day, when so wild and weird a response came from the powers\nof the air and the recesses of the deep to those who shouted forth,\namid a calm on the silent breast of the \u00c6gean Sea, that the great Pan\n('the great All,' 'the universal Lord,' as you, my friends, are aware\nit means in Greek) had died!\n\n\"I had gone out, shortly before the sixth hour on this sixth day,\nto take a stroll in the tree-shaded suburbs of Heliopolis, with\nmy friend Apollophanes. Suddenly, the sun, in a horrible manner,\nwithdrew its light so effectually that we saw the stars. It was\nthe time of the Hebrew Pasch, and the season of the month when the\nmoon is at the full, and the period of an eclipse, or of the moon's\napparent conjunction with the sun, was well known not to be then;\nindependently of which, two unexampled and unnatural portents,\ncontrary to the laws of the heavenly bodies, occurred: first, the\nmoon entered the sun's disc _from the east_; secondly, when she\nhad covered the disc and touched the opposite diameter, instead of\npassing onward, _she receded_, and resumed her former position in the\nsky. All the astronomers will tell you that these two facts, and also\nthe time of the eclipse itself, are equally in positive deviation\nfrom the otherwise everlasting laws of the sidereal or planetary\nmovements. I felt that either this universal frame was perishing or\nthe Lord and Pilot of nature was himself suffering; and I turned to\nApollophanes, and, 'O light of philosophy, glass of science!' I said,\n'explain to me what this means.'\n\n\"Before answering me, he required that we should together apply the\nastronomical rule, or formula, of Philip Arid\u00e6us; after doing which\nwith the utmost care, he said: 'These changes are supernatural; there\nis some stupendous revolution or catastrophe occurring in divine\naffairs, affecting the whole of the Supreme Being's creation.'\n\n\"You may be sure, my friends, that we both took a careful note of\nthe hour, the day, the week, month, year; and I intend to inquire\neverywhere whether in other lands any similar phenomena have\nappeared; and what overwhelming, unexampled event can have taken\nplace on this little planet of ours to bring the heavens themselves\ninto confusion, and coerce all the powers of nature into so awful a\nmanifestation of sympathy or of horror.\"\n\nHe ended by conveying to Aglais and Paulus the loving remembrance of\nthe Lady Damarais.\n\nAglais and her son and Esther were spell-bound with amazement when\nthis letter had been read; and Paulus exclaimed:\n\n\"What will Dion say when he hears that we also saw this very darkness\nat the same moment; that the veil of the Temple here has been rent in\ntwain; and that he who expired amid these and so many other portents,\nEsther, and in the full culmination of the prophecies, is again\nliving, speaking, acting, the Conqueror of death, as he was the Lord\nof life?\"\n\n\"Let us go to Athens; let us bring our friends, the Lady Damarais and\nour dear Dion, to learn and understand what we have ourselves been\nmercifully taught.\"\n\nSo spoke Aglais, offering at the same time to Esther a mother's\nprotection and love along the journey. Paulus was silent, but gazed\npleadingly at Esther.\n\nIt was agreed. But in the political dangers of that reign, Paulus,\nowing to his fame itself, had to take so many precautions that much\ntime was unavoidably lost.\n\nMeanwhile, he had again asked the Jewish maiden to become his wife.\nNeed we say that this time his suit was successful? Paulus and Esther\nwere married.\n\nChristianity in the interim grew from month to month and from year\nto year, and our wanderers had but just arrived at last in Athens in\ntime to hear, near the statue of \"the unknown God,\" while Damarais,\nthe friend of Aglais, and Dion, the friend of them all, stood\nnear, a majestic stranger, a Roman citizen, him who had sat at the\nfeet of Gamaliel, the glorious Apostle of the Gentiles, who had\nbeen \"faithful to the heavenly Vision,\" though he had not seen the\nResurrection, explain to the Athenians \"him whom they had ignorantly\nworshipped.\" And when the sublime messenger of glad tidings related\nthe circumstances of the Passion, the scenes which had been enacted\nin Pilate's house (so well remembered by them), the next day's dread\nevent, and when he touched upon the preternatural accompaniments\nof that final catastrophe, and described the darkness which had\noverspread the earth from the sixth hour of that day, Dionysius,\nturning pale, drew out the tablets which he carried habitually,\nexamined the date of which, at Heliopolis, he and Apollophanes had\njointly made note, and showed symptoms of an emotion such as he had\nnever before experienced.\n\nHe and Damarais, as is well known, were among the converts of Saint\nPaul on that great occasion. How our other characters felt we need\nnot describe.\n\nYielding to the entreaties of their beloved Dionysius, they actually\nloitered in Greece for a few years, during which Christianity had\noutstripped them and penetrated to Rome, where it was soon welcomed\nwith fire and sword, and where \"the blood of martyrs became the seed\nof Christians.\" Esther shuddered as she heard names dear to her in\nthe murmured accounts of dreadful torments.\n\nResuming their westward course, how Paulus rejoiced that he had in\ntime sold everything in Italy, and was armed with opulence in the\nmidst of new and strange trials! They gave Italy a wide offing,\nand passing round by the south of Germany, with an armed escort\nwhich Thellus (who had also become a Christian, and had, while they\nwere in Greece, sent for Prudentia) commanded, they never ceased\ntheir travels till they reached the banks of the Seine; and there,\nundiscernible to the vision of Roman tyranny in the distance, they\nobtained, by means of the treasures they had brought, hundreds of\nstout Gaulish hands to do their bidding, and soon founded a peaceful\nhome amid a happy colony. Hence they sent letters to Agatha and\nPaterculus.\n\nTwo arrivals from the realms of civilization waked into excitement\nthe peaceful tenor of their days. Paulus himself, hearing of the\ndeath of Paterculus, ventured quickly back to Italy, in the horrible,\nshort reign of Caligula, and fetched his sister Agatha, now a widow,\nto live with them. Later still, they were surprised to behold arrive\namong them one whom they had often mourned as lost to them for ever.\nIt was Dionysius. He came to found Christianity in Gaul, and settled,\namidst the friends of his youth, on the banks of the Seine. Often\nthey reverted, with a clear light, to the favorite themes of their\nboyhood; and often the principal personages who throughout this story\nhave, we hope, interested the reader, gathered around that same\nDionysius (who is, indeed, the St. Denis of France), and listened,\nnear the place where Notre Dame now towers, to the first Bishop\nof Paris, correcting the theories which he had propounded to the\nAreopagus of Athens as the last of the great Greek philosophers.[5]\n\nOne other arrival greeted, indeed, the expatriated but happy\nsettlement. Longinus found his way among them; and as the proud\nideas of a social system upon which they had turned their back no\nlonger tyrannized over Aglais or Paulus, the brave man, biding his\ntime and watching opportunities, found no insurmountable obstacles\nin obtaining a fair reward for twenty years and more of patient and\nunalterable love. He and Agatha were married.\n\nTHE END.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[3] If any one should feel astonished at our insisting not only upon\nthe exact day, but the very hour, when certain things occurred,\nlet him or her remember that the calculation of eclipses, passing\nbackward from one to another (as though ascending the steps of a\nstaircase), reaches and fixes the date--yes, the precise minute of\nday--when incidents took place between which and us the broad haze of\ntwice a thousand years is interposed.\n\n[4] For the rest, in support of the matters we have too briefly to\nrecount, we could burden these pages with voluminous, and some of\nthem most interesting and beautiful, extracts from both heathen\nand Christian works of classic fame and standard authority; with\npassages of direct and indirect evidence from Josephus, Phlegon,\nPlutarch, Saint Dionysius (our own true hero, the Areopagite of\nGreece, the St. Denis of France) [_ad Apollophanem_, epis. xi., and\n_ad Polycarpum Antistidem_, vii.]; Tertullian (_Cont. Jud._, c. 8);\nSt. Augustine (_Civ. Dei_, lib. 14); St. Chrysostom (_Hom. de Joanne\nBaptista_); the Bollandists, Baronius, Eusebius, Tillemont, Huet, and\na host of others.... But our statements will not need such detailed\n\"stabilitation,\" because the facts, being notorious among scholars,\nwill be impugned by no really educated man or thoroughly competent\ncritic.\n\n[5] The Roman Breviary thus speaks of St. Dionysius:\n\n\"Dionysius of Athens, one of the judges of the Areopagus, was versed\nin every kind of learning. It is said that, while yet in the errors\nof paganism, having noticed on the day on which Christ the Lord was\ncrucified that the sun was eclipsed out of the regular course, he\nexclaimed: 'Either the God of nature is suffering, or the universe\nis on the point of dissolution.' When afterward the Apostle Paul\ncame to Athens, and, being led to the Areopagus, explained the\ndoctrine which he preached, teaching that Christ the Lord had risen,\nand that the dead would all return to life, Dionysius believed with\nmany others. He was then baptized by the apostle and placed over the\nchurch in Athens. He afterward came to Rome, whence he was sent to\nGaul by Pope Clement to preach the Gospel. Rusticus, a priest, and\nEleutherius, a deacon, followed him to Paris. Here he was scourged,\ntogether with his companions, by the Prefect Fescennius, because he\nhad converted many to Christianity; and, as he continued with the\ngreatest constancy to preach the faith, he was afterward stretched\nupon a gridiron over a fire, and tortured in many other ways; as\nwere likewise his companions. After bearing all these sufferings\ncourageously and gladly, on the ninth of October, Dionysius, now more\nthan a hundred years of age, together with the others, was beheaded.\nThere is a tradition that he took up his head after it had been cut\noff, and walked with it in his hands a distance of two Roman miles.\nHe wrote admirable and most beautiful books on the divine names, on\nthe heavenly and ecclesiastical hierarchy, on mystical theology; and\na number of others.\"\n\nThe Abb\u00e9 Darras has published a work on the question of the\nidentity of Dionysius of Athens with Dionysius, first Bishop of\nParis, sustaining, with great strength and cogency of argument, the\naffirmative side. The authenticity of the works which pass under his\nname, although denied by nearly all modern critics, has been defended\nby Mgr. Darboy, Archbishop of Paris.--ED. C. W.\n\n\n\n\nEUROPE'S FUTURE.\n\nFROM THE GERMAN.\n\n\nTo be able to form a correct judgment regarding the future of Europe,\nthere are several points and theories which must be previously\nconsidered. First on the list comes--\n\n\nI.\n\nTHE RACE THEORY.\n\n\"The key to the success of the Prussian arms in the contest with\nFrance is found in the decadence of the Latin and the virility\nof the German race. The Latin peoples are corrupt; their star is\nwaning; their moral vigor is gone; while the German nations are still\nyoung and fresh. German culture, German ideas, German muscle and\nenergy, are taking the place of the decrepit French civilization.\nThe German victories are but the outward expression of this\nhistorical process. We are on the threshold of a new epoch in the\nhistory of civilization--of a new period which we can appropriately\ncall the German era.\" Such is the theory which now possesses the\nGerman mind, and is expressed in the newspapers, pamphlets, on the\nrailroads, and in the inns all through Germany, with great national\nself-complacency. Even many Sclavonians and Italians adopt this\nview. The conquest of the Latin by the Germanic races; the downfall\nof the former; the world-wide sovereignty of the latter--these are\nhigh-sounding phrases which have a dramatic effect and are popular in\nGermany. But do they express a truth? Are they philosophically and\nhistorically correct in view of the actual condition of political and\nsocial life? In the first place, what and where are the Latin races\nabout which we have been hearing so much during the past ten years?\nThe southern inhabitants of the Italian peninsula can lay no claim\nto Latin origin; for it is well known that they were anciently Greek\ncolonies, which have since intermarried with Romans, Spaniards, and\nNormans. The Lombards of the north of Italy are mostly of Celtic and\nnot of Latin origin, since they inhabit the ancient Gallia Cisalpina.\nThe old Iberians of Spain were not Latins; and they are now mixed\nwith Gothic, Moorish, Celtic, and Basque blood. As for France, its\nvery name imports that the Latins gave a very small contingent\ntowards forming a nation which is certainly of Celtic and German\norigin, and many of whose provinces are purely of German race, as\nAlsace and Lorraine. Where, then, shall we find the Latin races?\n\nThere are none properly so-called. Looking at the origin of\nlanguages, we may, indeed, speak of Latin, or, rather, of Roman\nnations. In this regard, we may class the Italians, Spaniards,\nPortuguese, and French together, on account of the Roman element\nprevailing in their tongues, in opposition to the Scalavonic-German,\nthe Celtic-Anglo-Saxon-Danish-Norman forming the world-wide English,\nthe Scandinavian, and the pure Sclavonic families. Does this theory\nmean that nations of the same tongue should all be politically and\nsocially united, flourish for a period, and then perish together?\nUnderstood in this way, the race theory would have few defenders.\nIt may be true that nations, like individuals, must live a definite\nperiod--rise, flourish, and decay. It is true, historically, that\nevery nation has an era of prosperity and an era of decadence. But\nwhen we come to the question of universal sovereignty, we may ask,\nWhen did the Roman nations ever exercise it? Each of them has had\nits golden age of literature, art, science, and material prosperity;\nbut none of them has had, for any length of time, the sovereignty of\nEurope. Not Italy, for instance, unless we go back to the days of\nold Rome, and then we have not an Italian but a specifically Roman\nsupremacy. Not Spain, for although she exercised great power beyond\nthe ocean, and for a time possessed a preponderating influence in\nEurope, from the reign of Charles V. to the first successor of Philip\nII., yet who could call the accidental union of so many crowns on the\nhead of a Hapsburg prince a universal sovereignty for Spain? Lastly,\nFrance had her age of glory during the reign of Louis XIV., whose\ninfluence, or that of the Napoleonic era, cannot be denied. Yet what\ngaps separate the reign of the great King from that of the great\nEmperor! Great as was France under Louis XIV. and Bonaparte, she\nfell to the second rank of nations during the Restoration and under\nthe July dynasty. As leader in the Revolutionary movement, she has\nalways controlled Europe, even in her periods of political weakness,\nfrom the days of the encyclop\u00e6dists to the present time. Even Germany\nacknowledges the sway of French literature, politeness, and taste.\nVictorious Berlin copies the fashions and manners of conquered\nFrance, as ancient Rome, after conquering Athens, became the slave of\nAthenian civilization.\n\nGermany, too, must have already passed the period of her maturity,\naccording to the race theory; for, under the Saxon Othos, under the\nHohenstaufens, and Charles V., until the Thirty Years' War broke\nthe strength of the empire, she was superior even to France. Does\nnot German genius in its peculiar walks rule the world now? German\nscience, German music? Does not England, usually considered as\nbelonging to the German race, rule the commerce of the world? And\nwas not her political influence on the Continent until recently\nall-powerful?\n\nNo! political sovereignty can be explained by no race theory. From\nthe fall of the first Napoleon until 1848, England with the powers\nof the \"Holy Alliance,\" or rather with Austria and Russia, held the\nfirst place in European politics. From the beginning of 1848 until\nthe Crimean war, England and Russia were in the foreground; after\nthat war it was France and England; now it is Prussia. These are but\nexamples of the political fluctuations which follow each other in\ncontinual change, and are seldom of long duration.\n\nAnd do not the champions of the German race theory see that there\nis a laughing heir behind them in the Sclavonic supremacy? Once\nadmitting the race theory, we must confess that the Panslavist argues\nwell when he says: \"The Roman nations are dead; the German are on the\npoint of dying. They once conquered the world; their present effort\nis the last flicker of the expiring light which points out the road\nto us. After them comes our race, with fresh vigor on the world's\nscene. Europe's future is Panslavism.\"\n\nThe whole theory is radically false. There are no more primitive\nraces to take the place of the old ones. The Germans are as old as\nthe Romans; or, rather, the Romans were simply Germans civilized\nbefore their brethren. Russia alone is young in Europe, but she has\nnothing new to give us; and physical force, without a new social or\nmoral system accompanying it to establish a conquest, never prevails\nlong. We cannot, therefore, judge of Europe's future by this theory\nof races.\n\nThe power of regeneration must be sought for elsewhere.\n\n\nII.\n\nLIBERALISM.\n\nOne would have thought that the sanguinary war of 1870 should have\ndispelled the illusions of liberalism for ever. By liberalism, we\nmean that party which believes in the principles of 1789, whose ideal\nis to have the middle classes, or _bourgeoisie_, the ruling power,\nto have society equally divided, to have an atheistical state, and\nto obtain eternal peace through unlimited material progress, which\nwould identify the interests of nations. Liberalism, rationalism, and\nmaterialism are different names for the same system. A state without\nGod, sovereignty of capital, dissolution of society into individuals,\nunited by no other bond than the force of a liberal parliament\nmajority under the control of wealth; material prosperity of the\nmiddle classes, founded on gain and pleasure, with the removal of all\nhistorical traditions, all ecclesiastical precepts--such is the dream\nof this \"shopkeepers' system.\" Has not the present war dispelled the\ndream of happiness arising from mere material prosperity? We doubt\nit. Notwithstanding the many hard lessons which the liberal school\nhas received since the days of Mirabeau and the Girondins, from the\nlawyers of the July dynasty to Ollivier, it never seems to grow\nwiser. It is superficial, never looks into the essence of things. It\nis in vain to charge the present misfortunes of two great nations on\nthe illiberalism of Napoleon and Bismarck, and thus exalt the merits\nof liberalism; for liberalism or mere material prosperity was at\nthe bottom of all their plans. From 1789 to 1870, France, with few\nexceptions, was governed by liberalism; and the revolutions begat\nthe natural consequences of this system in anarchy and military\ndespotism. France during this period has made the most wonderful\nmaterial progress.\n\nWe read lately in a liberal journal that the only remedy for the\nrejuvenation of states was \"the inviolability of the individual,\nand respect for the popular will.\" Always the same emptiness of\nphraseology with these impracticable dabblers in philosophy. What\nwill you do if the infallible \"popular will\" refuses to recognize\nthe inviolability of individuals? Cannot these gentlemen see that\ntheir system merely opens the door for socialism? They take away\nreligion, and teach the epicurean theory of enjoyment; they destroy\nconstitutional forms of government, and base authority on the\never-shifting popular whim. Socialism comes after them, and says,\n\"You say there is no God, and I must have pleasure. I have counted\nmyself, and find that I am the majority; therefore, I make a law\nagainst capital and property. You must be satisfied, for you are my\nteacher, and I merely follow out your principles to their logical\nconsequences.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nSOCIALISM.\n\nA new era is dawning. Not a mere political period, but a complete\nsocial change, for the actual order of things is disorder, a compound\nof injustice and abuses. We must have fraternity and equality.\nAway with the nobles; away with the wealthy classes; away with\nproperty; all things must be in common. The happiness of Europe\nwill never be realized until socialism reigns supreme. Such is the\nsocialistic theory. But does not every one see that its realization\nis impossible, and brings us back to barbarism? The right of property\nis essential to society. It is contrary to nature to expect that\nmankind will give up this right to please a whim of drones--a system\naccording to which the lazy and indolent would have as much right\nto property as the industrious and hard-working. If all is to be\ncommon property, who will work, who will strive to acquire, whose\nambition will be aroused, whose interest excited for the attainment\nof something in which he will have no right or title? And in fact,\nboth liberals and socialists use words which they do not mean; they\nare far more despotic when they get power than those whom they are\ncontinually attacking. At the Berne Congress of 1868, a socialist\norator said: \"We cannot admit that each man shall choose his own\nfaith; man has not the right to choose error; liberty of conscience\nis our weapon, but not one of our principles!\" By error he meant\nChristianity. In fact, ultra-radicalism is simply ultra-despotism.\nMen blamed the despotism of Napoleon III.; but look at the despotism\nof Gambetta, and remember the despotism of Robespierre and the \"Reign\nof Terror.\" Destroy religion, and you have nothing left but egotism.\nMan becomes to his brother-man either a wolf or a fox.\n\nSocialism may indeed have its day in Europe's future. The logic of\nliberalism leads to it; but it will be a fearful day of disorder\nand revolution; a sad day for the wealthier classes; but still only\na day. Earthquakes are possible, and sometimes they engulf cities;\nbut they pass away, and quiet returns. New vegetation springs up on\nthe ruins. If socialism ever gains Europe, it will vanish in virtue\nof the _reductio ad absurdum_; therefore its mastery can never be\npermanent.\n\n\nIV.\n\nTHE INTERNATIONAL POLICY OF EUROPEAN STATES SINCE 1789.\n\nSince neither the race theory, nor liberalism, nor socialism, can\nenable us to solve the problem of Europe's future, let us pass to\nother considerations, glance rapidly over the past, study the present\nexternal and internal condition of the continent, in order to be able\nto form a judgment on the subject which we are discussing.\n\nThe French Revolution of 1789 had its effects all over Europe.\nIn France since that date, liberalism, anarchy, and Byzantinism\nhave held alternate sway. The Bonaparte invasions carried through\nthe rest of Europe the liberal principle of secularization\nwith the _Code Napol\u00e9on_. The writings of the philosophers and\nencyclop\u00e6dists, and Josephism, had prepared the way. The reaction of\n1815 was based on Masonic theories of philanthropism and religious\nindifferentism. The Emperor Alexander and the Holy Alliance were\ninfected with these views. The revolutionary movement in Germany,\nItaly, and Spain has since been simply against office-holders and\nthe police. The influence of religion has been ignored. Palmerston\nwas the _coryph\u00e6us_ of the liberals, and during his time English\ndiplomacy played into the hands of all the irreligious and\nrevolutionary elements in Europe. This unprincipled system was\nfinally represented by Napoleon III., in whose diplomacy the theory\nof \"non-intervention,\" of \"nationalities,\" of \"sovereignty of the\npeople,\" were put forward as the types of the perfection of modern\nsociety. In point of fact, they are mere words used as a cloak to\ncover up Macchiavellism.\n\nThe \"balance of power\" theory, of purely material import, ruled in\n1815, but it soon gave way before the influences of the \"liberal\"\ndoctrines of humanitarianism and the race system. Religious\nconvictions and Christian institutions were ignored in politics,\nand a system of police substituted in their place. Greece received\nits king in consequence of this system which has prevailed in the\nexternal relations of Europe since 1830. In 1848, the revolutions\nand insurrections in Europe were merely premature appearances\nof the socialistic element in liberalism. Napoleon III., by his\nMacchiavellian policy, which Guizot has happily termed \"moderation\nin evil-doing,\" coerced them. He gave all the sanction of French\npower to the principles of the liberal school which he was supposed\nto represent. On the principle of \"non-intervention,\" he prevented\nthe interference of Austria and Spain in favor of the Holy See. He\nprotected the seizure of Naples and Sicily; approved the invasion of\nthe Papal States, and substituted, in the place of dynastic right\nand popular right, the colossal delusion of the _pl\u00e9biscite_. On the\nnationality theory, he allowed Austrian power to be destroyed, and\nfounded, in opposition to all French interests, Italian and German\nunity.\n\nAlthough very defective since it ignored the full claims of religion,\nstill there was a fixed public law in Europe from 1815 to 1859.\nRespect for the minor powers; the sentiment of the solidarity of\nthrones against the efforts of Carbonarism and the cosmopolitan\nrevolutionary party; and regard for treaties, characterize that\nperiod. The traditions of the people were respected; and treaties\nrepressed avarice or ambition; and there was real peace in\nEurope--the peace of order, according to the beautiful expression of\nSt. Augustine. It is true, far-seeing minds saw the threatening cloud\non the horizon of the future, and knew that the system of 1815 did\nnot rest on the right foundations. Still, even mere external forms\nare a protection.\n\nBut since 1859 law or treaties no longer seem to bind. There seems\nto be nothing fixed in the public law of Europe. All is whim; might\ninstead of right, sentiment instead of principle. Powers can no\nlonger unite, for they cannot trust each other. Instead of all being\nunited to protect the individual state, now all are hostile to each\nother. Italy insists on unification in spite of law and right, and\nto gain her purpose depends to-day on Prussia; yesterday, it was\non France. She hates Austria, and Austria acts as if she did not\nperceive the hatred, and will not interfere lest she might offend\nthe liberals. Vienna is in dread of Berlin and St. Petersburg; St.\nPetersburg is in dread of Berlin. England looks jealously at Russia,\nwho, meanwhile, is arming in grim silence, and with occasional\nmanifestations of her old predilections. France counts now for\nnothing. Prussia, which fifteen years ago was allowed merely by the\nfavor of Austria to sit in the congress of the great powers, is now\nthe only great military power in Europe. We say military, for it\nis not the real, the hidden power. As in the Greek mythology grim,\ninexorable fate ruled above all the gods, so the head lodge of the\nsecret societies makes of the Prussian leaders its blind tools;\nItaly obeys it; Napoleon was its slave; Austria, its sacrifice; and\nnow Prussia also must bend the knee. Such is Europe ten years after\nthe Franco-Austrian war: the Europe of Metternich, Nesselrode, and\nWellington.\n\n\nV.\n\nTHE INTERNAL POLICY OF THE EUROPEAN STATES SINCE 1789.\n\nThe revolution has changed the internal policy of states as well as\ntheir external relations. Forty years ago, Donoso Cortes remarked\nthat England was endeavoring to introduce its constitution into\nthe Continent; and that the Continent would try to introduce its\ndifferent governmental systems into England. We are now witnesses of\nthe truth of this observation. Democratic ideas are gaining ground\nin Great Britain; and bureaucracy, with its centralizing tendencies,\nis replacing the English theory of self-government. Military\nconscriptions, along with universal suffrage, will come next. Owing\nto the extension of the franchise, the House of Commons is losing its\naristocratic character, and the House of Lords its influence. England\nwill go the way of France.\n\nWe see what the liberal system begotten of the revolution has caused\nin France. An enervated, un-self-reliant, disunited generation,\nwithout traditions, organization, consistency, faith, or true\npatriotism, is its result. The decrees of the _Code Napol\u00e9on_\nconcerning inheritances have broken up families; the departmental\nsystem has destroyed the provincial peculiarities in which lies\nthe people's strength; the system of common lodging-houses for the\nlaboring classes has destroyed respect for authority, and afforded\nready material for the purposes of despotism or secret societies.\n\nIn Italy and Spain, we see the same spectacle. The French, led\ninto Italy by the first Napoleon, brought thither the principle of\ncentralization and a revolutionary code. After Napoleon's downfall,\nthe restored princes allowed too much of his system to remain. This\narose from a want of judgment. The ancient municipalities were\ndestroyed, even to some extent in the States of the Church; Piedmont\nreceiving most of the poison, and thus becoming the hearth of the\nrevolution. Constitutionalism, anarchy, and military governments in\nSpain prove the working of revolutionary doctrines. The old freedom\nof that Catholic country, the growth of centuries, gives way before a\nnominal liberty, but a real despotism.\n\nIn Germany, too, centralization carries the day. This country had the\ngood fortune to be composed of several independent states, without\nany great central power, and the provincial spirit consequently\nremained strong. But now two un-German words, \"unification\" and\n\"uniformity,\" expressing un-German tendencies, are carrying the\nGermans into despotism. Germany will be Prussianized, and Prussia\nGermanized, say the unificators; but all will, in the end, be\ncompelled to give way before the republicans and socialists. The high\nschools of Germany are all infected with the revolutionary doctrines\nand Masonic ideas.\n\nWhat shall we say of Austria? Thanks to \"liberalism,\" it\nhas disappeared, and is now a dualism in its government and\ntri-parliamentary in its system.\n\nThe licentiousness of the press helps to destroy everything stable in\ngovernments. Journals without principle, honor, or religion, filled\nwith scandals, edited by adventurers, whose only object is to make\nmoney and serve faithfully their owners, issue their thousands of\ncopies daily to corrupt the public mind. Evil spreads more rapidly\nthan good, and consequently the influence of the religious press is\nweak compared to that of the revolutionary papers, subsidized by the\nagents of secret societies or by the unprincipled men of wealth, who\nreadily purchase the aid of corrupted minds to help on their ambition.\n\n\nVI.\n\nTHE POSITION OF THE CHURCH UNDER THE LIBERAL SYSTEM.\n\nGovernments have therefore ceased to be Christian, and have become\n\"liberal,\" that is, infidel. According to liberalism, religion is the\nprivate affair of each individual. Civil society should recognize\nno dogma, no worship, no God. We know well that this principle,\nfrom its very intrinsic absurdity, cannot be practically carried\nout. For instance, God will be recognized when it is necessary to\nswear fidelity to a constitution, and the external forms of religion\nwill be invoked at the opening of a new railroad or a session of\nparliament. But in principle the liberal state ignores all positive\nreligious belief. Its only dogma is that a law passed by a majority\nof voters remains a law until the next majority abrogates it. This\nsystem is called \"separation of church and state,\" or \"a free church\nin a free state.\" Then follow broken concordats--in France and\nBavaria, broken by organic articles; in Baden, Piedmont, Austria, and\nSpain, destroyed by the will of the prince and cabinet ministers.\nThen follows a usurped educational system, in which the rights of\nthe family and church are disregarded. In all of these states, more\nor less, there is a public persecution of the church; a repression\nof her rights; enthrallment of her ministers; invasion of her\nprivileges. God is in heaven, consequently the church should confine\nherself to the sanctuary; that is to say, God does not trouble\nhimself about the conduct of nations, politics, legislation, or\nscience. These are all neutral affairs, over which his authority does\nnot extend, and therefore the church has nothing to do with public\nlife. So say the liberals. They take from God and give it to C\u00e6sar,\nthe modern civil divinity, all that is his, except one thing which\nit is impossible for them to take from him, and that is conscience.\nThey endeavor to estrange conscience from God more and more by\neducation, by the press, and by public opinion manufactured by the\nleaders of the secret societies. Hence all the talk about \"liberty of\nconscience.\" For the same end, they talk of toleration, but they mean\nsimply indifference, which hence becomes the shibboleth of the party\nwhich the church unceasingly opposes.\n\nThis is, in a few words, the actual condition of the church in\nEuropean society. It is an unnatural condition. Even Macchiavelli\nsays: \"Princes and republics which would remain sound must, before\nall things, guard the ceremonies of religion and keep them ever in\nhonor. Therefore, there is no surer sign of the decay of a state than\nwhen it sees the worship of the Most High disregarded.\" Macchiavelli\nspoke from the lessons of experience and as a mere utilitarian. Our\nmodern utilitarian politicians have not his capacity or penetration.\nThey are mere superficial observers of fact, and cannot see that the\n_summum utile_ is the _summum jus_. This fault lies in ignoring the\nassistance of the supernatural order--in their erroneous opinion\nthat there is no absolute truth. The church is not a hospital for\ndiseased souls; Christianity is not a mere specific for individual\nmaladies; but as our Lord has taught us to pray, \"Thy kingdom come\n... on earth as it is in heaven,\" so must revealed truth pervade the\nearth; percolate through civil society, not merely in its individual\nmembers, but in all its natural relations, family, municipal, and\nstate. This is what the church has taught Europe, and only by\nconforming with this teaching can Europe stand. Since Christianity\ncame into the world, the Christian state is the normal condition of\npolitical governments, and not an ideal impossible of realization.\nUndoubtedly, human weakness will always cause many aberrations from\nthe rule. But the question is not regarding this point, but as to the\nrecognition of the rule. The sin against the Holy Ghost is the most\ngrievous of all sins. Our Lord, always so mild and forbearing toward\nhuman passions, is unflinchingly stern against malicious resistance\nto truth, and this has been precisely the great evil of our time ever\nsince 1789. In the early ages, individuals and nations fell into many\nerrors, but they never touched the sacred principles of religion.\nLiberalism and Freemasonry have caused the denial of truth itself.\n\n\"Must we, then, fall back into the darkness of the middle ages?\"\nSuch a question, while it shows little knowledge of the middle ages,\nexhibits likewise a spirit of unfairness in discussion. For our\npurpose, it suffices to show the latter. What would we think of a man\nwho, on being told that our faith should be childlike, should say to\nthe priest, \"Must I, then, become a child again?\" Plainly, we would\nsay to him: Good friend, you talk nonsense; for you know well that\nyou cannot get again your infant body, nor blot out the knowledge\nand experience acquired in a life of thirty years. But was not the\nsun the same four years ago as it is now? Do not two and two make\nfour now as long ago? Did you not eat and drink when you were a child\nas you do now? Some things are always true in all places and times;\nand therefore we do not want to bring you back into the middle ages\nmerely because we want to give the church that position which God has\nassigned to her.\n\n\"Then you want to saddle a theocracy on the back of the nineteenth\ncentury?\" Let us understand each other. In a certain sense, a\ntheocracy must be the aim of every rational being. God has appointed\ntwo orders to govern men: they are church and state, neither of which\nmust absorb the other. Theocracy is not a government of priests, as\nthose imagine who have before their eyes the Hindoo civil systems.\nLet us for a moment forget these catchwords, \"middle ages\" and\n\"theocracy,\" and go to the marrow of the subject.\n\nThe church is the guide of consciences; not the arbitrary teacher of\nmen, but the interpreter of revelation for them. St. Thomas likens\nthe office of the Vicar of Christ to that of the flag-ship of a\nfleet, which the other vessels, that is, the secular governments\nmust follow on the open sea in order to reach the common haven of\nsafety. Each vessel has its own sails moves in its own way, and\nis managed by its own mariners. The church never interferes in the\nappropriate sphere of the secular power. But she warns; she advises;\nshe corrects all civil authority when it deviates from the truth\nand opposes the revealed order. Her authority over the state is not\ndirect, but indirect; she teaches, but she cannot coerce; she _must_\nteach, for political and social questions necessarily have relations\nwith dogmatic and moral subjects. The church must condemn wrongs, no\nmatter by whom perpetrated, whether by states or individuals. This is\nall the theocratic power the church claims. A Christian state will\nrespectfully hear her warning voice, and thus avoid the danger; while\na pagan state shuts its ears, despises the church's admonitions, and\nplunges into the abyss.\n\nModern paganism in civil governments has brought Europe into her\npresent miserable condition. Can she get out of it, or is European\nsociety hopelessly lost?\n\n\nVII.\n\nEUROPE'S FUTURE.\n\nThe Franco-Prussian war of 1870 is one of the most important events\nin the history of Europe. The prostration of France is no indication\nthat she will never rise again, for in 1807 Prussia was in a worse\ncondition than France is now. In 1815, and until the past few years,\nPrussia was last in the list of the great powers, though now she is\nthe first. France, then, in a few years may rise again to her full\npower. There are no more fresh, uncivilized races to come into Europe\nto take the place of those which are now said to be decaying. We have\nshown that liberalism has reached its acme, been found wanting, and\nis dying. Its efforts in Italy, Spain, Germany, Vienna, and Pesth are\nbut the last convulsions of an expiring system. The natural child of\nliberalism--socialism--must also disappear before the common sense of\nmankind. What remains? Will there be in Europe the alternate anarchy\nand despotism of the Central American republics without any end? Must\nwe despair of Europe's future? No, a thousand times no! We look to\nthe future with hope and consolation.\n\nCommon sense and religion will win the day; Christianity has still\nthe regenerating power which she showed in civilizing the barbarians.\nChristianity has been the principle of national life since the\nRedeemer established it as a world religion. The spiritual life\nmust be renovated by truth and morality. Christianity is both. We\nChristians hope, therefore, for the conversion of the popular mind;\nwe begin even now to perceive signs of regeneration, renovation,\nrenewed energy, and vigor in mental convictions and civic virtues.\n\nGod's punishments are proofs of his mercy. He chastises to convert.\nThe first punishment of France, in 1789, was not enough to teach her\nto repent. Louis XVIII. came to the throne a free-thinker instead of\na Christian. The prostrate armies of Metz and Sedan are the result\nof corrupting and enervating infidelity. God chastises ambition and\npride in nations as well as in individuals. The Republic has shown\nitself incapable, because it possessed neither honor, principle, nor\nreligion. The victories of Prussia are a blessing of God for France.\nThe Prussian army is but the instrument which God has used to punish\na culprit nation--a revolutionary, irreligious, and frivolous system\nof government. Victorious Germany, too, will be taught to reflect\nwhen it sees the blood of its thousands of slaughtered sons, and the\nmiseries which the war has entailed on its once happy families. Wars\nteach unruly nations to reflect. Will the present war suffice to\nhumble Europe, and cause her to reflect? We know not; but God will\nsend other chastisements if this one avails nothing. Dark clouds are\nalready rising in the East, which may soon burst over Austria and\nGermany. The rod of God's anger will be felt by Austria again, for\nher lessons of 1859 and 1866 have been forgotten. They have only made\nher throw herself more fondly into the arms of the devil. In Italy,\nthe secret societies will yet avenge on the house of Savoy the blood\nof the defenders of the Vicar of Christ.\n\nBut the German empire has been re-established under a Prussian\nemperor. Yes, but this is only an episode in the actual crisis of the\nworld. A Protestant emperor of Germany is entirely different from\na German emperor. The old German emperors represented the idea of\nthe Christian monarchy; the Protestant emperor in Berlin represents\nmodern C\u00e6sarism. His empire cannot last long, for history tells\nus that empires of sudden and accidental growth lose rapidly the\npower which they as rapidly acquired. But is not Prussia's triumph\nthe triumph of Protestantism in Europe? Such a question is easily\nanswered: Protestantism as a positive religion no longer exists\nin Prussia or elsewhere; and Protestantism as a negation exists\neverywhere, perhaps more in some Catholic lands than in Prussia.\nOn the battle-fields of W\u00f6rth and Gravelotte, the Catholic Church\nwas not represented by France, and Lutheranism by Prussia. Catholic\nBavarians, Westphalians, and Rhinelanders fought for Prussia, and\nwould be astounded to hear that they were fighting for heresy.\nPriests and Sisters of Charity accompanied them to battle. Who,\non the other hand, would call the Turcos Catholics? Or the French\nofficers, who never heard Mass, and who curtailed the number of\nCatholic chaplains to the minimum? Were the French soldiers, who\ndrilled on Sundays instead of going to church, on whose barracks,\nin some cases, was written, \"No admission for policemen, dogs, or\npriests\"--were they the Catholic champions? No; the Christian soldier\nin France first appeared, in this war, with Charette and Cathelineau\nin the Loire army, demoralized and destroyed, however, by the mad-cap\nradical, Gambetta, and his infidel associates. In fact, the Prussian\narmy was more Catholic than the French. The latter must be won\nback to religion from the enervating influences of Freemasonry and\nVoltairianism before it can regain its prestige. The only hope for\nFrance is in her zealous clergy, in the vigor of the old Catholic\nprovinces, and in her humiliations, which ought to bring repentance.\n\nThe rustling of Catholic renovation is heard all over Europe. The\nrising generation will bring Italy back to the church. The spirit\nof the Tyrol and of Westphalia is spreading through Germany. The\nUltramontanes in Saxony, Bohemia, Steyermark, show the energy of\nthis renovation. The peasantry of Austria and of a large portion of\nGermany are still uncorrupted. Hungary is steadfast in the faith.\nThe seizure of Rome by the Sardinian robbers has roused the Catholic\nheart of the world and helped on the cause of regeneration. Where the\nCatholic faith was supposed to be crushed, lo! it has raised its head\ndefiantly.\n\nThe deceived nations want peace, freedom, order, and authority.\nThese blessings infidelity and liberalism have taken away. The people\nare beginning to see that the old yet ever young Apostolic Church\nalone can guarantee them. They will turn to Rome, where lives the\nVicar of Him who said, \"I am the way, the truth, and the life;\" to\nRome freed again from the barbarians; to Rome become Roman again\nwhen it has ceased to be Sardinian; to Rome will the people look for\npeace and order. It is Rome that tells men that Christ is Lord of\nthe world; that he conquers; that he governs. The social dominion\nof Christ will again be established. We shall see again Christian\nstates founded on Christian principles and traditions, with Christian\nlaws and rulers. Whether these rulers will be kings or presidents\nwe know not; but they will in either case consider themselves as\nmere delegates of Jesus Christ, and of his people, not as Byzantine\ndespots or representatives of mob tyranny. They will understand\nthat statesmanship does not consist in giving license to the\nwicked[6] and forging chains for the good. We shall have Christian\nschools, Christian universities, Christian statesmen. Ye liberals\nin name, well may ye grow pale! The future of the world belongs to\nthe principles of the Syllabus, and this future is not far off. We\nconclude with the words of Count de Maistre: \"In the year 1789, the\nrights of man were proclaimed; in the year 1889, man will proclaim\nthe rights of God!\"\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[6] \"The art of governing men does not consist in giving them license\nto do evil.\"--_P\u00e8re Lacordaire._\n\n\n\n\nBISHOP TIMON.[7]\n\n\nWe hope the day may come before many years when historians will see\nin the records of the struggles, misfortunes, and triumphs of the\nchurch a theme for the employment of brilliant pens as tempting as\nthey now find in the clash of armies and the intrigues of statesmen.\nScholars have devoted to our records the patient investigation of\nyears; the general history of the church has been summarized for\npopular reading in most of the principal modern languages; and\nfor the use of theologians and students there are elaborate and\ncostly collections. Individual biographies of saints and preachers\ninnumerable have been written for the edification of the devout.\nSketches of local church history, more or less complete, have\noccasionally appeared--sketches, for instance, like _The Catholic\nChurch in the United States_, by De Courcy and Shea; Shea's _History\nof the Catholic Missions_ among the Indian tribes of America, and\nBishop Bayley's little volume on the history of the church in New\nYork. But a work of a different kind, broader in its design than\nsome of these excellent and useful publications, more limited in\nscope than the dry and costly general histories, still awaits the\nhand of a polished and enthusiastic man of letters. Why should not\nthe same eloquence and learning be devoted to the religious history\nof the great countries of the globe that Macaulay, and Motley, and\nFroude have expended upon the political revolutions of states and\nthe intricate dramas of diplomacy? Why should not some glowing pen\ndo for the pioneers of the cross what Prescott did for the pioneers\nof Spanish conquest in the new hemisphere? Properly told, the church\nhistory of almost any country of the world, of almost any period\nin Christian times, would be a narrative not only of religious\nsignificance, but of thrilling interest. No men ever passed through\nmore extraordinary adventures, considered even from a human point\nof view, than the missionaries who penetrated into unknown lands or\nfirst went among unbelieving nations. No contest between hostile\nkingdoms or rival dynasties ever offered a more tempting theme for\ndramatic narrative and glowing description than the contest which\nhas raged for eighteen centuries and a half, between the powers of\nlight and the powers of darkness, in all the different quarters of\nthe civilized world. Think what a brilliant writer might make of such\na subject as the church history of Germany! Think what has yet to be\ndone for the churches of England and Ireland and France, when the\ncoming historian rescues their chronicles from the dusty archives of\nstate and the gloom of monastic libraries, and causes the old stories\nto glow with a new light, such as Gibbon threw upon the records of\nthe declining empire!\n\nWe doubt not the literary alchemist _will_ come in time, and melt\ndown the dull metals in his crucible, and pour out from it the\nshining compound which shall possess a popular value a hundredfold\nbeyond that of the untransmuted materials. Nowhere, perhaps, will\nthe labor be more amply repaid than in America. Nowhere will\nthe collection of materials be less arduous and the result more\nbrilliant. Our church history begins just when that of Europe is\nmost perplexing, and to an investigator with time, patience, and a\nmoderate revenue at his command, it offers no appalling difficulties.\nIn a great part of America, the introduction of the Catholic religion\nis an event within the memory of men still living. The pioneers\nof many of the states are still at work. The first missionaries\nof some of the most important sees are but just passing to their\nreward. There are no monumental slanders upon our history to be\nremoved; no Protestant writers have seriously encumbered the field\nwith misrepresentations. Industrious students of our own faith have\nalready prepared the way; scattered chapters have been written with\nmore or less literary skill; the store-houses of information have\nbeen discovered and partly explored; and every year the facilities\nfor the historian are multiplied. And certainly the theme is rich in\nromantic interest and variety. From the time of the monks and friars\nwho came over with the first discoverers of the country down to the\npresent year of our Lord, when missionaries are perilling their lives\namong the Indians of the great West, and priests are fighting for\nthe faith against the cultivated Protestants of the Atlantic cities,\nthe Catholic history of the United States has been a series of bold\nadventures, startling incidents, and contests of the most dramatic\ncharacter. In the whole story there is not a really dull chapter. The\nCatholic annals of America abound also with that variety which the\nhistorian needs to render his pages really attractive; and among the\ngreat men who would naturally be the central figures of such a work,\nthere is the widest difference of character, the most picturesque\ndivergence of pursuits and personal peculiarities. Group together\nthe most distinguished of the Christian heroes who have illustrated\nour chronicles, and you have what an artist might call a wonderfully\nrich variety of coloring. There are the simple-minded, enthusiastic\nSpanish Franciscans, following the armies of Cortez and Pizarro,\nand exploring the strange realms of the Aztecs and the Incas. There\nis the French Jesuit, building up his Christian empire among the\nIndians of the St. Lawrence and the Great Lakes. There is the gentle\nMarquette, floating in his bark canoe down the mighty river with\nwhose discovery his name will ever be associated, and breathing his\nlast in the midst of the primeval wilderness. There are Jogues and\nBreb\u0153uf, suffering unheard-of torments among the Iroquois; Cheverus,\nthe polished and fascinating cardinal, winning the affection of\nthe New England Puritans; England, conciliating the Huguenots and\nAnglicans of the South. The saintly Brut\u00e9, most amiable of scholars,\nmost devout of _savans_, is a quaint but beautiful character around\nwhom cluster some of our most touching associations. Bishop Dubois,\nthe \"Little Bonaparte\" of the Mountain; Gallitzin, the Russian\nprince who hid the lustre of his rank among the log-cabins of the\nAlleghanies; Hughes, the great fighting archbishop, swinging his\nbattle-axe over the heads of the parsons; De Smet, the mild-mannered\nbut indomitable missionary of the Rocky Mountains--these are\nspecimens of our leaders whose place in history has yet to be\ndescribed by the true literary artist. Several have been made the\nsubject of special biographies, but none have yet appeared in their\ntrue light as the central figures of an American church history.\n\nThe book which suggests these remarks is a contribution of materials\nfor the future historian, and as such we give it a cordial welcome.\nMr. Deuther, it is true, is not a practised writer, and is not\nentirely at his ease in the use of our language. But he has shown\ngreat industry in the collection of facts, and has rescued from\noblivion many interesting particulars of the early career of Bishop\nTimon in a part of the United States whose missionary history is\nvery imperfectly known. Thus he has rendered an important service to\nCatholic literature, and earned full forgiveness for the literary\noffences which impair the value of his book as a biography. The\nepiscopacy of the estimable man whose life is here told was not\nan especially eventful one, and except in one instance attracted\ncomparatively little public notice. The most conspicuous men,\nhowever, are not always the most useful. Bishop Timon had a great\nwork to perform in the organization and settlement of his new\ndiocese, and he did it none the less efficiently because he labored\nquietly. The best known incident of his official life--the lamentable\ncontest with the trustees of the Church of St. Louis in Buffalo--is\nnot one which Catholics can take any satisfaction in recalling; but\nit had a serious bearing upon the future of the American Church, and\nits lessons even now may be reviewed with profit. Bishop Kenrick in\nPhiladelphia, Bishop Hughes in New York, and Bishop Timon in Buffalo\nhave between them the honor, if not of destroying a system which\nhad done the church incalculable injury, at least of extracting its\nevil principle. Mr. Deuther gives the history of this warfare at\nconsiderable length, and with an affluence of documents which, though\nnot very entertaining to read, will be found convenient some time or\nanother for reference. We presume that most people will be interested\nrather in the earlier chapters of the biography, and to these we\nshall consequently give our principal attention.\n\nJohn Timon was of American birth but Irish parentage. His father,\nJames, emigrated from the county Cavan in the latter part of 1796\nor the beginning of 1797, and settled at Conewago,[8] in Adams\nCounty, Pennsylvania, where, in a rude log-house, the subject of\nthis biography was born on the 12th of February, 1797, the second\nof a family of ten children. The father and mother seem to have\nbeen remarkably devout people, and from an anecdote related by Mr.\nDeuther we can fancy that the lavish beneficence which characterized\nthe bishop was an hereditary virtue in the family. Mr. James Timon\ncalled, one day, upon a priest whom he had known in Ireland, and,\ntaking it for granted that the reverend gentleman must be in want of\nmoney, he slipped into his hand at parting a $100 bill, and hurried\naway. The priest, supposing Mr. Timon had made a mistake, ran after\nhim, and overtook him in the street. \"My dear friend,\" said the\ngenerous Irishman, \"it was no mistake. I intended it for you.\" \"But,\"\nsaid the clergyman, \"I assure you I am not in want; I do not need\nit.\" \"Never mind; there are many who do. If you have no use for the\nmoney yourself, give it to the poor.\" The Timon family removed to\nBaltimore in 1802, and there John received his school education,\nsuch as it was. As soon as he was old enough, he became a clerk in\na dry-goods shop kept by his father; and Mr. Deuther prints a very\nfoolish story to the effect that he was so much liked by everybody\nthat by the time he was nineteen \"he had become a toast for all\naged mothers with marriageable daughters,\" and had refused \"many\neligible and grand offers of marriage,\" which we take the liberty of\ndoubting. From Baltimore the family removed, in 1818, to Louisville,\nand thence in the following spring to St. Louis. Here prosperity at\nlast rewarded Mr. Timon's industry, and he accumulated a considerable\nfortune, only to lose it, however, in the commercial crisis of 1823.\nIn the midst of these pecuniary misfortunes, John Timon suffered\na still heavier loss in the death of a young lady to whom he was\nengaged to be married. Mr. Deuther's apology for mentioning this\nincident--which he strangely characterizes as an \"undeveloped\nfrivolity\" in the life of a bishop of the church--is entirely\nsuperfluous; he would have been a faithless biographer if he had not\nmentioned it. We may look upon it as a manifestation of the kindness\nof divine Providence, which called the young man to a higher and\nmore useful life, and designed first to break off his attachment to\nall the things of this world. He heard and obeyed the call, and, in\nthe month of April, 1823, became a student of the Lazarists at their\npreparatory seminary of St. Mary's of the Barrens, in Perry County,\nMissouri, about eighty miles below St. Louis.\n\nThe Lazarists, or Priests of the Mission, had been introduced into\nthe United States only six years before, and their institutions,\nfounded, with great difficulty, in the midst of a poor and scattered\npopulation, were still struggling with debt and discouragement. The\nlittle establishment at the Barrens was for many years in a pitiable\ncondition of destitution. When Mr. Timon entered as a candidate not\nonly for the priesthood, but for admission to the congregation, it\nwas governed by the Rev. Joseph Rosati, who became, a year later,\nthe first Bishop of St. Louis. The buildings consisted of a few\nlog-houses. The largest of them, a one-story cabin, contained in\none corner the theological department, in another the schools of\nphilosophy and general literature, in a third the tailor's shop,\nand in the fourth the shoemaker's. The refectory was a detached\nlog-house; and, in very bad weather, the seminarians often went to\nbed supperless rather than make the journey thither in search of\ntheir very scanty fare. It was no uncommon thing for them, of a\nwinter's morning, to rise from their mattresses, spread upon the\nfloor, and find over their blankets a covering of snow which had\ndrifted through the crevices of the logs. The system upon which\nthe seminary was supported was the same that prevails at Mount St.\nMary's. For three hours in the day the students of divinity were\nexpected to teach in the secular college connected with the seminary,\nand for out-of-door exercise they cut fuel and worked on the farm.\nMr. Timon, in spite of these labors, made such rapid progress in\nhis studies that, in 1824, he was ordained sub-deacon, and began to\naccompany his superiors occasionally in their missionary excursions.\n\nThey lived in the midst of spiritual destitution. The French pioneers\nof the Western country had planted the faith at St. Louis and some\nother prominent points, but they had left few or no traces in the\nvast tracts of territory surrounding the earlier settlements, and to\nmost of the country people the Roman Catholic Church was no better\nthan a sort of aggravated pagan imposture. Protestant preachers used\nto show themselves at the very doors of the churches and challenge\nthe priests to come out and be confuted. Wherever the Lazarists\ntravelled, they were looked at with the most intense curiosity. Very\nfew of the settlers had ever seen a priest before. The Catholics,\nscattered here and there, had generally been deprived, for years, of\nMass and the sacraments, and their children were growing up utterly\nignorant of religion. Mr. Timon was accustomed to make a regular\nmissionary circuit of fifteen or twenty miles around the Barrens\nin company with Father Odin, afterward Archbishop of New Orleans.\nThe duty of the sub-deacon was to preach, catechise, and instruct.\nSometimes they had no other shelter than the woods, and no other food\nthan wild berries. At a settlement called Apple Creek, they made a\nchapel out of a large pig-pen, cleaning it out with their own hands,\nbuilding an altar, and so decorating the poor little place with\nfresh boughs that it became the wonder of the neighborhood. In 1824,\nMessrs. Odin and Timon made a long missionary tour on horseback. Mr.\nDeuther says they went to \"New Madrid, _Texas_,\" and thence as far\nas \"the Port of Arkansas.\" New Madrid, of course, is in Missouri,\nand the Port of Arkansas undoubtedly means Arkansas Post, in the\nState of Arkansas, which could not very well be reached by the way of\nTexas. Along the route they travelled--where they had to swim rivers,\nflounder through morasses, and sleep in the swamps--no priest had\nbeen seen for more than thirty-five years. Their zeal, intelligence,\ngraceful and impassioned speech, and modest manners, seem to have\nmade a great impression on the settlers. They had the satisfaction of\ndisarming much prejudice, receiving some converts, and administering\nthe sacraments; and, after an interesting visit to an Indian tribe\non the Arkansas River, they returned to the Barrens. About this time\n(in 1825), Mr. Timon was promoted to the priesthood and appointed a\nprofessor at the seminary. His missionary labors were now greatly\nincreased. Mr. Deuther tells some interesting anecdotes of his tours,\nwhich curiously illustrate the state of religion at that time in\nthe West. One day, Father Timon was summoned to Jackson, Missouri,\nto visit a murderer under sentence of death. With some difficulty\nhe got admission to the jail, but a crowd of men, led by a Baptist\nminister named Green, who was also editor of the village newspaper,\nentered with him. The prisoner was found lying on a heap of straw and\nchained to a post. The hostile mob refused to leave the priest alone\nwith him; but, in spite of their interference, Father Timon succeeded\nin touching the man's heart and preparing him for the sacraments.\nWhile they were repeating the Apostles' Creed together, the minister\npushed forward and exclaimed, \"Do not make the poor man lose his soul\nby teaching him the commandments of men!\" and this interruption was\nfollowed by a violent invective against Romish corruptions.\n\n\"Mr. Green,\" said the priest, \"not long ago, I refuted all these\ncharges before a public meeting in the court-house of this village,\nand challenged anybody who could answer me to stand forth and do so.\nYou were present, but you made no answer. Surely this is no time for\nyou to interfere--when I am preparing a man for death!\"\n\nMr. Green's only reply was a challenge to a public controversy next\nday, which Father Timon immediately accepted. The minister then\ninsisted upon making a rancorous polemical prayer, in the course\nof which he said: \"O God of mercy! save this man from the fangs\nof Antichrist, who now seeks to teach him idolatry and the vain\ntraditions of men.\"\n\n\"Gentlemen,\" exclaimed the priest to the crowd which now filled the\ndungeon, \"is it right that, in a prayer to the God of charity and\ntruth, this man should introduce a calumny against the majority of\nChristians?\"\n\nHow far the extraordinary discussion might have gone it would be\nhard to guess, had not the sheriff turned everybody out and locked\nthe jail for the night. The next morning, the debate took place\naccording to agreement, the district judge being appointed moderator.\nAfter about three or four hours' speaking, Mr. Green gave up the\nbattle and withdrew. Father Timon kept on for an hour and a half\nlonger, and the result is said to have been a great Catholic revival\nin the community. The prisoner, who had steadily refused to accept\nthe ministrations of any but a Catholic clergyman, was baptized\nimmediately after the debate.\n\nOn another occasion, Father Timon carried on a debate with a\nProtestant clergyman--apparently a Methodist--in the court-house at\nPerryville. The Methodist was easily worsted, but there was soon to\nbe a conference meeting some eighteen miles off, and there he felt\nsure the priest would meet his match.\n\n\"Do you mean this as a challenge?\"\n\n\"No; I don't invite you. I only say you can go if you choose.\"\n\nFather Timon refused to go under these circumstances; but, learning\nafterward that a rumor was in circulation that he had pledged\nhimself to be on the ground, he changed his mind, and reached the\nscene of the meeting--which was in the open air--just after one of\nthe preachers had finished a discourse on Transubstantiation and\nthe Real Presence. \"There is a Romish priest present,\" this orator\nhad said, \"and, if he dares to come forward, the error of his ways\nwill be pointed out to him.\" So Father Timon mounted a stump, and\nannounced that in a quarter of an hour he would begin a discourse on\nthe Real Presence. This was more than the ministers had bargained\nfor. They had been confident he would not attend. They surrounded\nhim, in considerable excitement, and declared that he should not\npreach. Father Timon appealed to the people, and they decided that he\nshould be heard. He borrowed a Bible from one of his adversaries, and\nwith the aid of numerous texts explained and supported the Catholic\ndoctrine. The discussion was long and earnest. The preachers at last\nwere silenced, and Father Timon continued for some time to exhort the\ncrowd and urge them to return to the true church. Which was, to say\nthe least, a curious termination for a Methodist conference meeting.\n\nOne of the most serious difficulties which the pioneer missionaries\nhad to encounter was the want of opportunities of private converse\nwith people whose hearts had been stirred by the first motions of\ndivine grace. The log-dwellings of the settlers rarely contained\nmore than one room, and that often held a pretty large family. Many\nanecdotes are told of confessions made among the cornstalks in the\ngarden, or under the shadow of the forest, or on horseback in the\nlonely roads. On one occasion Father Timon had been summoned a long\ndistance to visit a dying man. The cabin consisted of a single room.\nWhen all was over, the wife of the dead man knelt beside the body\nand made her confession, the rest of the family and the neighbors,\nmeanwhile, standing out-doors in the rain. Then the widow was\nbaptized into the church, and, as the storm was violent and the hour\npast midnight, Father Timon slept on the bed with the corpse, while\nthe rest of the company disposed themselves on the floor.\n\nTen years had been passed in labors of this kind, when, in 1835,\nletters arrived from Paris, erecting the American mission of the\nLazarists into a province, and appointing Father Timon visitor.\nHe accepted the charge with great reluctance and only after long\nhesitation. It was indeed a heavy burden. The affairs of the\ncongregation were far from prosperous. The institution at the Barrens\nwas deeply in debt. The revenues were uncertain. The relations\nbetween the seminary and the bishop were not entirely harmonious.\nSeveral priests had left the community, and were serving parishes\nwithout the permission of their superiors. To restore discipline\nwould be an invidious task on many accounts. But, having undertaken\nthe office, Father Timon did not shrink. He saved the college and\nseminary from threatened extinction; he brought back his truant\nbrethren; he revived the spirit of zeal and self-sacrifice; he\nrestored harmony; he greatly improved the finances. In a short time,\nhe made a visit to France, and returned with a small supply of money\nand a company of priests. On Christmas Eve, in 1838, he sailed\nfor Galveston, in order to make a report to the Holy See upon the\ncondition of religion in the republic of Texas. He found the country\nin a sad state of spiritual destitution. The only priests were two\nMexicans at San Antonio, who lived in open concubinage. There were no\nchurches. There were no sacraments. Even marriage was a rite about\nwhich the settlers were not over-particular. Father Timon did what\nlittle he could, on a hurried tour, to remedy these evils; but a year\nor two later he came back as prefect apostolic, accompanied by M.\nOdin, and now he was able to introduce great reforms. Congregations\nwere collected, churches begun in all the largest settlements, and\nthe scandals at San Antonio abated. Firm in correction, but gracious\nin manner, untiring in labors, insensible to fear, making long\njourneys with a single companion through dangerous Indian countries,\nstruggling through swamps, swimming broad rivers--the prefect and\nhis assistant, M. Odin, travelled, foot-sore, hungry, and in rags,\nthrough this rude wilderness, and wherever they passed they planted\nthe good seed and made ready the soil for the husbandmen who were to\ncome after them. In the principal towns and settlements they were\ninvariably received with honor. The court-houses or other public\nrooms were placed at their disposal for religious services, and the\neducated Protestant inhabitants took pains to meet them socially and\nlearn from them something about the faith. We find in the account of\nthese tours no trace of the acrimonious polemical discussions which\nused to enliven the labors of the missionaries at the Barrens. There\nwas little or no controversy, and the priests were invited to explain\nreligious truth rather over the dinner-table than on the rostrum. At\nthe request of Mr. Timon, M. Odin was soon afterward appointed vicar\napostolic of Texas, and sent to continue the work thus happily begun.\n\nIt was in 1847 that Mr. Timon was removed from the Western field\nand consecrated first Bishop of Buffalo. When he had disposed all\nhis affairs and made ready for his departure, his worldly goods\nconsisted of a small trunk about half-full of scanty clothing. He had\nto borrow money enough to pay his way to New York. But meanwhile some\nfriends, having heard of his poverty, replenished his wardrobe, and\nmade up a purse of $400 for his immediate needs. He was consecrated\nin the cathedral of New York by Bishops Hughes, Walsh, and McCloskey,\non the 17th of October, and reached Buffalo five days afterward. It\nwas evening when he arrived. An immense crowd of people--it is said\nas many as 10,000--were in waiting for him at the railway station.\nThere were bands of music, banners, and flambeaux, a four-horse\ncarriage for the bishop, and a long torchlight procession to escort\nhim home. It is reported--but the biographer gives the story with\nsome reserve--that, after the _cort\u00e9ge_ had gone some distance,\nthe humble bishop was discovered, valise in hand, trudging afoot\nthrough the rain and mud, behind the coach in which he was supposed\nto be riding. In after-times he must have sadly compared the cordial\ngreeting of his flock on this night with the trials, the insults, the\npersecutions, which he had to bear from some of the very same people\nduring almost the whole of his episcopate. We shall not enlarge upon\nthe history of these sad years. The scandals which arose from the\nfactious and schismatical spirit of the trustees of the Church of\nSt. Louis in Buffalo are too recent to have been forgotten by our\nreaders. The troubles began while Bishop Timon was still a humble\nmissionary in Missouri. They had been quelled by the firmness of\nBishop Hughes, but they broke out again very soon after the creation\nof the new diocese, and Bishop Timon suffered from them to the end\nof his life. Having no cathedral and no house, he lodged when\nhe first arrived with the pastor of St. Louis's, but he had been\nthere only a few weeks when the trustees, in their mad jealousy of\npossible invasion of their imaginary rights, requested him to find\na home somewhere else. This brutal behavior was the beginning of a\nlong warfare. Those who may care about studying it will find the\nnecessary documents in Mr. Deuther's book. Let us rather devote the\nshort space remaining at our disposal to a description of some of\nthe charming traits of character of the holy man who crowned a life\nof incessant labor with an old age of suffering. From the moment of\nhis elevation to the episcopal dignity, the sacred simplicity of his\ndisposition seems to have daily increased. If the anecdote of his\nbehavior at the torchlight reception is not true, it is at any rate\nconsistent with his character. Bishop Hughes declared that the Bishop\nof Buffalo was the humblest man he had ever known. Though he was\nvery neat and precise in everything relating to the service of the\nsanctuary, rags of any kind seemed to him \"good enough for the old\nbishop,\" and it was only by stealth, so to speak, that his friends\ncould keep his wardrobe tolerably well supplied. In his visits to the\nseminary it was his delight to talk familiarly with the young men.\nAt the orphan asylum the children used to ride on his back. Visiting\nstrange churches, he would kneel in the confessional like any other\npenitent. In his private and official intercourse with his clergy, it\nwas not unusual for him to beg pardon with the utmost humility for\nfancied acts of injustice. On one occasion he had slightly rebuked\na priest for some irregularity. Satisfied afterward that the rebuke\nhad not been deserved, he invited the priest to dinner, placed him\nat the head of the table, treated him with marked distinction, and\nafterward, taking him to his own room, in the presence of another\nbishop, threw himself upon his knees and begged to be forgiven. In\nthe course of a visitation to a disturbed parish, a member of the\ncongregation he was addressing publicly spat in the bishop's face.\nHe took no notice of the occurrence, but went on with his remarks.\n\"Never shall I forget,\" wrote the late distinguished Jesuit, Father\nSmarius, \"the days of the missions for the laity and of the retreats\nfor the clergy which I had the pleasure to conduct in the cathedral\nof Buffalo during the three or four years previous to his holy\ndemise. The first to rise in the morning and to ring the bell for\nmeditation and for prayer, he would totter from door to door along\nthe corridors of the episcopal residence, with a lighted candle in\nhis hand, to see whether all had responded to the call of the bell\nand betaken themselves to the spot marked out for the performance of\nthat sacred and wholesome duty.... And then, that more than fatherly\nheart, that forgiving kindness to repentant sinners, even such as had\nagain and again deservedly incurred his displeasure and the penalties\nof ecclesiastical censures or excommunications. 'Father,' he would\nsay, 'I leave this case in your hands. I give you all power, only\nsave his soul.' And then, that simple, child-like humility, which\nseemed wounded by even the performance of acts which the excellence\nand dignity of the episcopacy naturally force from its subjects and\ninferiors. How often have I seen him fall on his aged knees, face\nto face with one or other of my clerical brethren, who had fallen\non theirs to receive his saintly blessing!\" He took great pains to\ncultivate the virtue of humility in his clergy. A proud priest he\nhad little hope for. To those who complained of the hardships of\nthe mission, he would answer, \"Why did you become a priest? It was\nto suffer, to be persecuted, according to the example laid down by\nour Lord Jesus Christ.\" In the strictness with which he tried to\nwatch over the spiritual welfare of his clergy, and changed their\npositions when he thought the good of their souls required it, his\nrule was like that of the superior of a monastery rather than the\nhead of a diocese. He was filled to a remarkable decree with the\nspirit of prayer. He began no labor, decided no question, without\nlong and fervent supplication for the divine assistance. On occasions\nof festivity or ceremony, he loved to steal away to the quiet of\nthe sanctuary, and under the shadow of a column in the cathedral\nto pass long hours in meditation. In travelling he was often seen\nkneeling in his seat in the cars. His household was always ordered\nlike a religious community. The day began and ended with prayer and\nmeditation in common. The bishop rose at five, and in the evening\nretired early to his room--not to sleep, but to pass most of the\nnight in devotion, study, and writing. Up to the very close of his\nlife he used to set out in the depth of winter to visit distant\nparishes unannounced, starting from the house before any one else\nwas awake, and trudging painfully through the snow with his bag in\nhis hand. Religious communities, when they assembled for morning\ndevotions, were often surprised to find the bishop on his knees\nwaiting for them. By these sudden visits he was sometimes enabled to\ncorrect irregularities, which he never suffered to pass unrebuked;\nbut he used to say that in dealing with others he would rather be too\nlax than too severe, as he hoped to be judged mercifully by Almighty\nGod.\n\nMr. Deuther, in attempting to show that the bishop had to conquer\na naturally quick temper, has created an impression, we fear, that\nthis saintly man was irascible if not violent in his disposition.\nIt is most earnestly to be hoped that no one will conceive such an\nutterly wrong idea. Mr. Deuther himself corrects his own unguarded\nlanguage, and it is only necessary to read the book carefully to see\nthat he does not mean what at first glance he seems not to say, but\nto imply. Nobody who knew Bishop Timon will hesitate to call him one\nof the kindest and most amiable of men; whatever faults he may have\nhad, nobody will think of mentioning a hot temper as one of them.\nThe sweetness of his disposition was in correspondence with the\ntenderness of his heart. The patience with which he bore the sorrows\nof his episcopate was equalled by the keenness with which he felt\nthem. Toward the close of his life several anonymous communications,\naccusing him of cruelty, avarice, injustice, and many other\nfaults--of cruelty, this man whose heart was as soft as a woman's--of\navarice, this charitable soul, who gave away everything he had, and\nleft himself at times not even a change of linen--of injustice, this\nbishop who pardoned every one but himself--were sent him in the form\nof printed circulars. So deeply was he wounded that his biographer\nis assured that the incident hastened his death; he never was the\nsame man afterward. At the end of the next diocesan synod he knelt\nbefore his priests, and, in a voice broken by tears, asked pardon of\nevery one present whom he might have in any manner treated unjustly.\nHe died on the 16th of April, 1867, after a rapid but gradual decay\nwhose termination he himself was the first to foresee, and his last\nhours were as beautiful and inspiring as his years of holy labor.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[7] _The Life and Times of the Right Rev. John Timon, D.D._, First\nRoman Catholic Bishop of Buffalo. By Charles G. Deuther. Buffalo:\npublished by the Author.\n\n[8] Mr. Deuther incorrectly calls this Conevago.\n\n\n\n\nGUALBERTO'S VICTORY.\n\n\n      A mountain-pass, so narrow that a man\n      Riding that way to Florence, stooping, can\n      Touch with his hand the rocks on either side,\n      And pluck the flowers that in the crannies hide--\n      Here, on Good Friday, centuries ago,\n      Mounted and armed, John Gualbert met his foe,\n      Mounted and armed as well, but riding down\n      To the fair city from the woodland brown,\n      This way and that swinging his jewell'd whip,\n      A gay old love-song on his careless lip.\n      An accidental meeting--yet the sun\n      Burned on their brows as if it had been one\n      Of deep design, so deadly was the look\n      Of mutual hate their olive faces took,\n      As (knightly courtesy forgot in wrath)\n      Neither would yield his enemy the path.\n      \"Back!\" cried Gaulberto. \"Never!\" yelled his foe.\n      And on the instant, sword in hand, they throw\n      Them from their saddles, nothing loth,\n      And fall to fighting with a smothered oath.\n      A pair of shapely, stalwart cavaliers,\n      Well-matched in stature, weapons, weight, and years,\n      Theirs was a long, fierce struggle on the grass,\n      Thrusting and parrying up and down the pass,\n      Swaying from left to right, till blood-drops oozed\n      Upon the rocks, and head and hands were bruised;\n      But at its close, when Gualbert stopped to rest,\n      His heel was planted on his foeman's breast;\n      And, looking up, the fallen courtier sees,\n      As in a dream, gray rocks and waving trees\n      Before his glazing eyes begin to float,\n      While Gualbert's sabre glitters at his throat.\n\n      \"Now die, base wretch!\" the victor fiercely cries,\n      His heart of hate outflashing from his eyes.\n      \"Never again, by the all-righteous Lord,\n      Shalt thou with life escape this trusty sword!\n      Revenge is sweet!\" And upward flash'd the steel,\n      But e'er it fell--dear Lord! a silvery peal\n      Of voices, chanting in the town below,\n      Rose, like a fountain's spray, from spires of snow,\n      And chimed, and chimed, to die in echoes slow.\n\n      In the sweet silence following the sound,\n      Gualberto and the man upon the ground\n      Glared at each other with bewildered eyes.\n      And then the latter, struggling to rise,\n      Made one last effort, while his face grew dark\n      With pleading agony: \"Gualberto! hark!\n      The chant--the hour--you know the olden fashion--\n      The monks below intone Our Lord's dear Passion.\n      Oh! by this cross\"--and here he caught the hilt\n      Of Gualbert's sword--\"and by the blood once spilt\n      Upon it for us both long years ago,\n      Forgive--forget--and spare your fallen foe!\"\n\n      The face that bent above grew white and set,\n      The lips were drawn, the brow bedew'd with sweat,\n      But on the grass the harmless sword was flung,\n      And, stooping down, the generous hero wrung\n      The outstretched hand. Then, lest he lose control\n      Of the but half-tamed passions of his soul,\n      Fled up the pathway, tearing casque and coat,\n      To ease the throbbing tempest at his throat--\n      Fled up the crags, as if a fiend pursued,\n      Nor paused until he reached the chapel rude.\n\n      There, in the cool, dim stillness, on his knees,\n      Trembling, he flings himself, and, startled, sees\n      Set in the rock a crucifix antique,\n      From which the wounded Christ bends down to speak:\n      \"_Thou hast done well, Gualberto. For my sake\n      Thou didst forgive thine enemy; now take\n      My gracious pardon for thy years of sin,\n      And from this day a better life begin._\"\n\n      White flash'd the angels' wings above his head,\n      Rare subtile perfumes thro' the place were shed;\n      And golden harps and sweetest voices pour'd\n      Their glorious hosannas to the Lord,\n      Who, in that hour and in that chapel quaint,\n      Changed, by his power, by his sweet love's constraint,\n      Gualbert the sinner into John the saint.\n\n\n\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.\n\nPART SIXTH.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe enemies of \"superstition\" had lost a good deal of ground in\ntheir desperate struggle against the events which for the last ten\nor twelve weeks had scandalized their distressed philosophy. As it\nhad become impossible to deny the existence of the fountain whose\npure streams were flowing before the eyes of the amazed people, so it\nwas becoming impossible to continue denying the reality of the cures\nwhich were being worked, continually and in many places, by the use\nof this mysterious water.\n\nAt first the incredulous had shrugged their shoulders at the report\nof these cures, taking the simple course of denying them out-and-out,\nand refusing to make any examination. Then some skilful persons had\ninvented several false miracles, to enjoy an easy triumph in refuting\nthem. But they had very soon been confounded by the multiplicity of\nthese wonderful cures, of which a few have been mentioned. The facts\nwere evident. They became so numerous and so striking that it was\nnecessary, however painful it might be, either to acknowledge their\nmiraculous nature or find some natural explanation for them.\n\nThe free-thinkers, then, understood that, unless they were willing\neither to surrender or to deny in the face of complete evidence, it\nwas absolutely necessary to take up some new line of tactics.\n\nThe most intelligent of the clique, indeed, saw that things had\nalready gone too far, and perceived the grave error which they\nhad committed at the outset in denying prematurely and without\nexamination facts which had afterward become patent and perfectly\nwell established, such as the appearance of the fountain, and the\ncures of a great number of many who were notoriously incurable by\nnatural means, and who were now to be seen going about the streets\nof the town in perfect health. What made the mistake worse and\nalmost irreparable was that these unfortunate denials of the most\nwell-attested events were authentically and officially recorded in\nall the newspapers of the department.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe greater part of the cures effected by the Massabielle water\nhad a character of rapidity, nay, even of instantaneousness, which\nclearly showed the immediate action of sovereign power. There were\nsome, however, which did not present this evidently supernatural\nappearance, being accomplished after baths or draughts repeated a few\nor many times, and in a slow and gradual manner--resembling somewhat\nin their mode the ordinary course of natural cures, though in reality\ndifferent.\n\nIn a village called Gez, near Lourdes, a little child of seven years\nhad been the subject of one of these cures, of a mixed character,\nwhich, according to one's natural inclination, might be attributed\nto a special grace of God or to the unaided forces of nature. This\nchild, named Lasbareilles, had been born entirely deformed, with a\ndouble curvature of the back and breast-bone. His thin and almost\nwithered legs were useless from their extreme weakness; the poor\nlittle boy had never been able to walk, but was always either sitting\nor lying down. When he had to move, his mother carried him in her\narms. Sometimes, indeed, the child, resting on the edge of the table\nor helped by his mother's hand, could manage to keep himself up and\nto take a few steps; but it was at the cost of violent efforts and\nimmense fatigue. The physician of the place had professed himself\nunable to cure him; and the disease being organic, no remedy had ever\nbeen resorted to.\n\nThe parents of this unfortunate child, having heard of the miracles\nof Lourdes, had procured some of the water from the grotto; and in\nthe course of a fortnight had applied it on three different occasions\nto the body of the little fellow without obtaining any effect. But\ntheir faith was not discouraged on that account; if hope was banished\nfrom the world, it would still remain in the hearts of mothers. A\nfourth application was made on Holy Thursday, the first of April,\n1858. That day the child took several steps without assistance.\n\nThe bathings from that time became more and more efficacious, and the\nhealth of the patient gradually improved. After three or four weeks,\nhe became strong enough to walk almost as well as other people. We\nsay \"almost,\" for there was still in his gait a certain awkwardness,\nwhich seemed like a reminiscence of his original infirmity. The\nthinness of his legs had slowly disappeared together with their\nweakness, and the deformity of his chest was almost entirely\ngone. All the people of the village of Gez, knowing his previous\ncondition, said that it was a miracle. Were they right or wrong?\nWhatever our own opinion may be, there is certainly much to be said\non both sides of the question.\n\nAnother child, Denys Bouchet, of the town of Lamarque, in the canton\nof Ossun, had also been cured of a general paralysis in very much the\nsame way. A young man of twenty-seven years, Jean Louis Amar\u00e9, who\nwas subject to epileptic fits, had been completely though gradually\ncured of his terrible malady solely by the use of the water of\nMassabielle.\n\nSome other similar cases had also occurred.[9]\n\n\nIII.\n\nIf we were not acquainted with the wonderfully varied forms which\nsupernatural cures have assumed since the Christian era, we might\nperhaps be inclined to believe that Providence had thus disposed\nthings at this moment to cause proud human philosophy to catch\nitself in its own nets, and to destroy itself with its own hands.\nBut let us not think that there was in this case such a snare on the\npart of God. He lies in ambush for no one. But truth in its normal\nand regular developments, the logic of which is unknown to human\nphilosophy, is of itself an eternal snare for error.\n\nHowever this may be, the _savants_ and physicians of the country\nhastened to find in these various cures, the cause of which was\ndoubtful, though their reality and progressive nature were well\nascertained, an admirable opportunity and an excellent pretext to\neffect that change of base which the increasing evidence of facts\nmade absolutely necessary.\n\nCeasing, therefore, to ascribe these cures to such a commonplace\ncause as imagination, they loudly attributed them to the natural\nvirtues which this remarkable water, which had been discovered by the\nmerest chance, undoubtedly possessed. To give this explanation was of\ncourse equivalent to recognizing the cures.\n\nLet the reader recall the beginning of this story, when a little\nshepherdess, going out to gather some dead wood, claimed to have seen\na shining apparition. Let him remember the sneers of the great men of\nLourdes, the shrugging of shoulders at the club, the supreme contempt\nwith which these strong-minded individuals received this childish\nnonsense; what progress the supernatural had made; and how much\nincredulity, science, and philosophy had lost, since the first events\nwhich had so suddenly occurred at the lonely grotto on the banks of\nthe Gave.\n\nThe miraculous had, if we may use such an expression, taken the\noffensive. Free thought, lately so proud and confident in its\nattacks, was now pursued by facts and obliged to defend itself.\n\nThe representatives of philosophy and science were none the less\npositive, however, and showed as much disdain as ever for the popular\nsuperstition.\n\n\"Well, be it so,\" said they, affecting a tone of good humor and the\nair of good faith. \"We acknowledge that the water of the grotto\ncures certain maladies. What can be more simple? What need is\nthere of having recourse to miracles, supernatural graces, and\ndivine intervention to explain effects similar to, if not even\nexactly the same as, those of the thousand springs which, from\nVichy or Baden-Baden to Luchon, act with such efficacy on the human\nsystem? The Massabielle water has merely some very powerful mineral\nqualities, like those which are found in the springs of Bar\u00e8ges or\nCauterets, a little higher up in the mountains. The grotto of Lourdes\nhas no connection with religion, but comes within the province of\nmedical science.\"\n\nA letter, which we take at random from our documents, presents better\nthan we could the attitude of the _savants_ of the neighborhood\nregarding the wonders worked by the Massabielle water. This letter,\nwritten by an eminent physician of that region, Dr. Lary, who had\nno faith whatever in the miraculous explanations of the cures, was\naddressed by him to a member of the faculty:\n\n                                     \"OSSUN, April 28, 1858.\n\n    \"I hasten, my dear sir, to send you the details which\n    you ask of me in regard to the case of the woman Galop\n    of our commune.\n\n    \"This woman, in consequence of rheumatism in the left\n    hand, had lost the power of holding anything with it.\n    Hence, if she wished to wash or carry a glass with this\n    hand, she was very apt to drop it, and she was obliged\n    to give up drawing water from the well, because this\n    hand was unable to hold the rope. For more than eight\n    months she had not made her bed and had not spun a\n    single skein of thread.\n\n    \"Now, after a single journey to Lourdes, where she\n    made use of the water internally and externally, she\n    spins with ease, _makes her bed, draws water, washes\n    and carries the glasses and dishes, and, in short, uses\n    this hand as well as the other_.\n\n    \"The movements of the left hand are not yet _quite_ as\n    free as before the illness, but 90 per cent. of the\n    power that had been lost before the use of the water\n    from the grotto at Lourdes has been restored. The woman\n    proposes, however, to go again to the grotto. I shall\n    ask her to pass your way that you may see her, and\n    convince yourself of all that I have said.\n\n    \"You will find, in examining her case, an incomplete\n    anchylosis of the lower joint of the forefinger. If the\n    repeated use of the water of the grotto destroys this\n    morbid condition, it will be an additional proof of its\n    alkaline properties.[10]\n\n    \"In conclusion, I beg you to believe me yours very\n    faithfully,\n\n                                                \"LARY, M.D.\"\n\nThis explanation, once admitted and considered as certain in\nadvance, the doctors were less unwilling to accept the cures worked\nby the water of the grotto; and from this period they set to work\nto generalize their thesis, and to apply it almost without any\ndistinction to all cases, even to those which were marked by the\nmost amazing rapidity, which could by no means be ascribed to the\nordinary action of mineral waters. The learned personages of the\nplace got out of this difficulty by attributing to the water of the\ngrotto extremely powerful properties, such as had been previously\nunknown. It mattered little that they discarded all the laws of\nnature in their theories, provided that heaven got no profit thence.\nThey willingly admitted the preternatural in order to get rid of the\nsupernatural.\n\nThere were among the faithful some perverse and troublesome persons,\nwho by impertinent remarks interfered with the profound conclusions\nof the scientific coterie.\n\n\"How,\" they said, \"is it that this mineral spring, so extraordinarily\npowerful that it works instantaneous cures, was found by Bernadette\nwhen in a state of ecstasy, and came after her accounts of certain\ncelestial visions, and apparently in support of them? How did it\nhappen that the fountain sprang out precisely at the moment when\nBernadette believed herself to hear a heavenly voice telling her to\ndrink and bathe? And how is it that this fountain, which appeared\nsuddenly under the eyes of all the people in such very unusual\ncircumstances, yields not ordinary water, but a water which, as you\nyourselves acknowledge, has already cured so many sick persons whose\ncases had been abandoned as hopeless, and who have used it without\nmedical advice, and merely in the spirit of religious faith?\"\n\nThese objections, repeated under many different forms, provoked the\nfree-thinkers, philosophers, and _savants_ exceedingly. They tried\nto evade them by answers which were really so poor and miserable\nthat they ought, one would think, to have hardly presented a good\nappearance even in their authors' eyes; but then, to find any others\nwas no doubt very difficult.\n\n\"Why not?\" said they. \"Coffee was discovered by a goat. A shepherd\nfound by chance the waters of Luchon. It was also by accident\nthat the ruins of Pompeii were brought to light by the pickaxe of\na laborer. Why should we be so much surprised that this little\ngirl, while amusing herself by digging in the ground during her\nhallucination, should have come upon a spring, and that the water\nof this spring should be mineral and alkaline? That she imagined\nat the moment that the Blessed Virgin was before her, and that\nshe heard a voice directing her to the fountain, is merely a\ncoincidence, entirely accidental, but of which superstition tries to\nmake a miracle. On this occasion, as on the others, chance has done\neverything, and has been the real discoverer.\"\n\nThe faithful were not, however, moved by this sort of argument.\nThey had the bad taste to think that to explain everything by\naccidental coincidence was to do violence to reason under the\npretext of defending it. This irritated the free-thinkers, who,\nthough acknowledging at last the reality of the cures, deplored more\nthan ever the religious and supernatural character which the common\npeople insisted upon giving to these strange events; and, as was\nnatural under the circumstances, they were inclined to resort to\nforce to stop the popular movement. \"If these waters are mineral,\"\nthey began to say, \"they belong to the state or to the municipality;\npeople should not use them except by the advice of a doctor; and an\nestablishment for baths should be built at the spot, not a chapel.\"\n\nThe science of Lourdes, forced to assent to the facts in this case,\nhad arrived at the state of mind just described when the measures of\nthe prefect, relative to the objects deposited in the grotto, and the\nattempt to imprison Bernadette under the pretext of insanity, were\nannounced--this attempt, as we have seen, having been defeated by the\nunexpected intervention of the cur\u00e9, M. Peyramale.\n\n\nIV.\n\nA certain and official basis for all these theses of the desperate\nadherents of the medical theory was still a desideratum. M. Massy\nhad already bethought himself of asking such a basis from one of the\nmost wonderful and indubitable sciences of the age--namely, that\nof chemistry. With this view, he had applied, through the mayor of\nLourdes, to a chemist of some distinction in the department--M.\nLatour de Trie.\n\nTo show, not in detail by the examination of each special case, but\nonce for all, that these cures which were rising up as formidable\nobjections were naturally explained by the chemical constitution\nof the new spring, seemed to him a masterstroke; and he considered\nthat, in accomplishing it, he would lay science and philosophy under\nobligation, not to mention also the administration, represented by\nthe minister, M. Rouland.\n\nSeeing that it was impossible to have Bernadette arrested as insane,\nhe urged the analysis, which was to show officially the mineral\nand healing qualities of the water. It was becoming imperatively\nnecessary to get rid of the intrusive supernatural power which,\nafter having produced the fountain, was now curing the sick people,\nand threatening to pass all bounds. Though its abominable influence\nshould continue strong in many quarters, a really official analysis\nmight be of great service.\n\nThe chemist of the prefecture, therefore, set to work to make this\nprecious investigation of the water from Massabielle, and, with a\ngood conscience, if not with perfect science, he found at the bottom\nof his crucibles a solution perfectly agreeing with the explanations\nof the doctors, the reasonings of the philosophers, and the desires\nof the prefect. But was truth also as well satisfied with it as the\nprefecture, the philosophers, and the faculty? At first, perhaps,\nthis question was not proposed, but it lay in store for a future\noccasion. But, not to consider this for the present, let us see\nwhat was this analysis which M. Latour de Trie, chemist of the\nadministration, addressed officially, on the 6th of May, to the mayor\nof Lourdes, and which the latter immediately forwarded to the Baron\nMassy:\n\n    \"CHEMICAL ANALYSIS.\n\n    \"The water of the grotto of Lourdes is very clear,\n    without smell or decided taste. Its specific gravity is\n    very nearly that of distilled water. Its temperature at\n    the spring is 15\u00b0 Cent. (59\u00b0 Fahr.)\n\n    \"It contains the following elements:\n\n    \"1st. Chlorides of sodium, calcium and magnesium in\n    abundance.[11]\n\n    \"2d. Carbonates of lime and of magnesia.\n\n    \"3d. Silicates of lime and of alumina.\n\n    \"4th. Oxide of iron.\n\n    \"5th. Sulphate and carbonate of soda.\n\n    \"6th. Phosphate (traces).\n\n    \"7th. Organic matter--ulmine.\n\n    \"The complete absence of sulphate of lime in this water\n    is also established by this analysis.\n\n    \"This remarkable peculiarity is entirely to its\n    advantage, and entitles it to be considered as very\n    favorable to digestion, and as giving to the animal\n    economy a disposition favorable to the equilibrium of\n    the vital action.\n\n    \"We do not think it imprudent to say, in consideration\n    of the number and quality of the substances which\n    compose it, that medical science will, perhaps, soon\n    recognize in it special curative properties which\n    will entitle it to be classed among the waters which\n    constitute the mineral wealth of our department.\n\n    \"Be pleased to accept, etc.\n\n                                        \"A. LATOUR DE TRIE.\"\n\nThe civil order is not so well disciplined as the military, and,\nthrough misunderstanding, false steps are occasionally taken in\nit. The prefect, in the multitude of his avocations, had omitted\nto give his orders to the editors of the official newspaper of the\ndepartment, the _Ere Imp\u00e9riale_, so that, while the chemist of the\nprefecture said white, its journalist said black; while the former\nwas recognizing in the spring at Lourdes one of the future medical\nand mineral treasures of the Pyrenees, the latter was calling it\ndirty water, and joking about the cures which had been obtained.\n\n\"It is needless to say,\" he wrote on the precise day on which M.\nLatour de Trie sent in his report--that is, on the 6th of May--\"that\nthe famous grotto turns out miracles in abundance, and that our\ndepartment is inundated with them. At every corner you will meet with\npeople who tell you of a thousand cures obtained by the use of some\ndirty water.\n\n\"The doctors will soon have nothing to do, and the rheumatic and\nconsumptive people will have disappeared from the department,\" etc.\n\nNotwithstanding these discrepancies, which might have been avoided,\nit must be acknowledged that Baron Massy was, on the whole, attentive\nto his business. On the 4th of May, at about noon, he had delivered\nhis address to the mayors of the canton of Lourdes, and given his\norders. On the 4th of May, in the evening, the grotto had been\nstripped of the offerings and _ex-votos_. On the morning of the 5th,\nhe had ascertained the impossibility of having Bernadette arrested,\nand had abandoned this measure. On the 6th, in the evening, he\nreceived the analysis of his chemist. Fortified with this important\ndocument, he waited the course of events.\n\nWhat was about to take place at Lourdes? What would happen at the\ngrotto? What would be done by Bernadette, whose every movement was\nwatched by the Argus eyes of Jacomet and of his agents? Would not\nthe fountain at the grotto disappear in the coming hot weather,\nand thus put an end to the whole business? What attitude would the\npeople assume? Such were the hopes and anxieties of the Baron Massy,\nimperial prefect.\n\n\nV.\n\nAt the grotto the miraculous fountain continued to flow, abundant and\nclear, with that character of quiet perpetuity which is generally\nfound in springs coming from the rock.\n\nThe supernatural apparition did not cease to assert its existence,\nand to prove it by benefits conferred.\n\nThe grace of God continued to descend visibly and invisibly upon the\npeople, sometimes quick as the lightning which flashes through the\nclouds, sometimes gradual like the light of dawn.\n\nWe can only speak of those graces which were external and manifest.\n\nAt six or seven kilometres (four miles) from Lourdes, at Loubajac,\nlived a good woman, a peasant, who had formerly been accustomed to\nlabor, but whom an accident had for eighteen months past reduced to\na most painful inaction. Her name was Catherine Latapie-Chouat. In\nOctober, 1856, having climbed an oak to knock down some acorns, she\nhad lost her balance, and suffered a violent fall, which caused a\nsevere dislocation of the right arm and hand. The reduction--as is\nstated in the report and the official statement, which are now before\nus--though performed immediately by an able surgeon, and though\nit nearly restored the arm to its normal state, had nevertheless\nnot prevented an extreme weakness in it. The most intelligent and\ncontinuous treatment had been ineffectual in removing the stiffness\nof the three most important fingers of the hand. The thumb and first\ntwo fingers remained obstinately bent and paralyzed, so that it was\nimpossible either to straighten them or to enable them to move in the\nleast. The unfortunate peasant, still young enough for much labor,\nfor she was hardly thirty-eight, could not sew, spin, knit, or take\ncare of the house. The doctor, after having treated her case for a\nlong time without success, had told her that it was incurable, and\nthat she must resign herself to give up the use of that hand. This\nsentence, from such a reliable authority, was for the poor woman the\nannouncement of an irreparable misfortune. The poor have no resource\nbut work; for them compulsory inaction is inevitable misery.\n\nCatherine had become pregnant nine or ten months after the accident,\nand her time was approaching at the date of our narrative. One\nnight she awaked with a sudden thought or inspiration. \"An interior\nspirit,\" to quote her own words to myself, \"said to me as it were\nwith irresistible force, 'Go to the grotto! go to the grotto, and\nyou will be cured!'\" Who this mysterious being was who spoke thus,\nand whom this ignorant peasant--ignorant at least as far as human\nknowledge is concerned--called a \"spirit,\" is no doubt known by her\nangel guardian.\n\nIt was three o'clock in the morning. Catherine called two of her\nchildren who were large enough to accompany her.\n\n\"Do you remain to work,\" said she to her husband. \"I am going to the\ngrotto.\"\n\n\"In your present condition it is impossible,\" replied he; \"to go to\nLourdes and return is full three leagues.\"\n\n\"Nothing is impossible. I am going to get cured.\"\n\nNo objection had the least effect upon her, and she set out with her\ntwo children. It was a fine moonlight night; but the awful silence,\noccasionally broken by strange and mysterious sounds, the solitude of\nthe plains only dimly visible, and seemingly peopled by vague forms,\nterrified the children. They trembled, and would have stopped at\nevery step had not Catherine reassured them. She had no fear, and\nfelt that she was going to the fountain of life.\n\nShe arrived at Lourdes at daybreak, and happened to meet Bernadette.\nSome one telling her who it was, Catherine, without saying anything,\napproached the child blessed by the Lord and beloved by Mary, and\ntouched her dress humbly. Then she continued her journey to the rocks\nof Massabielle, where, in spite of the early hour, a great many\npilgrims were already assembled and were on their knees.\n\nCatherine and her children also knelt and prayed. Then she rose, and\nquietly bathed her hand in the marvellous water.\n\nHer fingers immediately straightened, became flexible, and under her\ncontrol. The Blessed Virgin had cured the incurable.\n\nWhat did Catherine do? She was not surprised. She did not utter a\ncry, but again fell on her knees, and gave thanks to God and to Mary.\nFor the first time for eighteen months, she prayed with her hands\njoined, and clasped the resuscitated fingers with the others.\n\nShe remained thus for a long time, absorbed in an act of\nthanksgiving. Such moments are sweet; the soul is glad to forget\nitself, and thinks that it is in Paradise.\n\nBut violent sufferings recalled Catherine to the earth--this earth of\nsighs and tears, where the curse pronounced upon the guilty mother\nof the human race has never ceased to be felt by her innumerable\nposterity. We have said that Catherine was very near her confinement,\nand as she was still upon her knees she found herself suddenly seized\nby the terrible pains of childbirth. She shuddered, seeing that there\nwould be no time to go even to Lourdes, and that her delivery was\nabout to occur in the presence of the surrounding multitude. And for\na moment she looked around with terror and anguish.\n\nBut this terror did not last long.\n\nCatherine returned to the Queen whom nature obeys.\n\n\"Good Mother,\" said she simply, \"you have just shown me so great a\nfavor, I know you will spare me the shame of being delivered before\nall these people, and at least grant that I may return home before\ngiving birth to my child.\"\n\nImmediately all her pains ceased, and the interior spirit of whom she\nspoke to us, and who, we believe, was her angel guardian, said to her:\n\n\"Do not be alarmed. Set out with confidence; you will arrive safely.\"\n\n\"Let us go home now,\" said Catherine to her two children.\n\nAccordingly she took the road to Loubajac, holding them by the hand,\nwithout intimating to any one her critical state, and without showing\nany uneasiness, even to the midwife of her own village, who happened\nto be there in the midst of the crowd of pilgrims. With inexpressible\nhappiness she quietly traversed the long and rough road which\nseparated her from home. The two children were not afraid of it now;\nthe sun was risen, and their mother was cured.\n\nAs soon as she returned, she wished still to pray; but immediately\nher pains returned. In a quarter of an hour she was the mother of a\nthird son.[12]\n\nAt the same time, a woman of Lamarque, Marianne Garrot, had been\nrelieved in less than ten days, merely by lotions with the water\nfrom the grotto, of a white eruption which had covered her whole\nface, and which for two years had resisted all treatment. Dr.\nAmadou, of Pontacq, her physician, was satisfied of the fact, and\nwas an incontestable witness of it subsequently before the episcopal\ncommission.[13]\n\nAt Bord\u00e8res, near Nay, the widow Marie Lanou-Domeng\u00e9, eighty years\nold, had been for three years a sufferer from an incomplete paralysis\nin the whole left side. She could not take a step without assistance,\nand was unable to do any work.\n\nDr. Poueymiroo, of Mirepoix, after having ineffectually used some\nremedies to restore life in the palsied parts, though continuing his\nvisits, had abandoned medical treatment of the case.\n\nHope, however, is with difficulty extinguished in the hearts of the\nsick.\n\n\"When shall I get well?\" the good woman would say to Dr. Poueymiroo,\nevery time that he came.\n\n\"You will get well when the good God sees fit,\" was the invariable\nreply of the doctor, who was far from suspecting the prophetic nature\nof his words.\n\n\"Why should I not believe what he says, and throw myself directly on\nthe divine goodness?\" said the old peasant woman one day to herself,\nwhen she heard people talking of the fountain of Massabielle.\n\nAccordingly, she sent some one to Lourdes to get at the spring itself\na little of this healing water.\n\nWhen it was brought to her, she was much excited.\n\n\"Take me out of bed,\" said she, \"and hold me up.\"\n\nThey took her out, and dressed her hurriedly. Both the actors and\nspectators in this scene were somewhat disturbed.\n\nTwo persons held her up, placing their hands under her shoulders.\n\nA glass of water from the grotto was presented to her.\n\nShe extended her trembling hand toward the quickening water and\ndipped her fingers in it. Then she made a great sign of the cross on\nherself, raised the glass to her lips, and slowly drank the contents,\nno doubt absorbed in fervent and silent prayer.\n\nShe became so pale that they thought for the moment that she was\ngoing to faint.\n\nBut while they were exerting themselves to prevent her from falling,\nshe rose with a quick and joyful movement and looked around. Then she\ncried out with a voice of triumph:\n\n\"Let me go--quick! I am cured.\"\n\nThose who were holding her withdrew their arms partially and with\nsome hesitation. She immediately freed herself from them, and walked\nwith as much confidence as if she had never been ill.\n\nSome one, however, who still had some fear of the result, offered her\na stick to lean on.\n\nShe looked at it with a smile; then took it and contemptuously threw\nit far away, as a thing which was no longer of use. And from that\nday, she employed herself as before in hard out-door work.\n\nSome visitors, who came to see her and to convince themselves of the\nfact, asked her to walk in their presence.\n\n\"Walk, did you say? I will run for you!\" And, true to her word, she\nbegan to run.\n\nThis occurred in the month of May. In the following July, the people\npointed out the vigorous octogenarian as a curiosity, as she mowed\nthe grain, and was by no means the last in the hard labors of the\nharvest.\n\nHer physician, the excellent Dr. Poueymiroo, praised God for this\nevident miracle, and subsequently, with the examining commission,\nsigned the proc\u00e8s-verbal on the extraordinary events which we have\njust related, in which he did not hesitate to recognize \"the direct\nand evident action of divine power.\"[14]\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[9] We think it well to say that no one of these cures, except that\nof Denys Bouchet, whom the physicians had pronounced absolutely and\nconstitutionally incurable, was declared to be miraculous by the\nepiscopal commission which will be mentioned further on. For these\ncures, the 10th, 11th, and 16th _proc\u00e8s verbaux_ of the commission\nmay be consulted. Whatever the probability of divine intervention may\nbe in such cases, the church before proclaiming a miracle requires\n_that no natural explanation of the fact should be possible_, and\nsets aside, without affirming or denying, every case in which this\ncondition is not found. She is content to say _Nescio_.\n\nWe shall hereafter have occasion to speak of the work of the\ncommission.\n\n[10] The patient was, in fact, entirely cured at the second visit to\nLourdes.\n\n[11] The presence of chloride of sodium (common salt), to say nothing\nof the others, _in abundance_, without a decided taste in the water,\nis a little mysterious. The original reads: \"Chlorures de soude, de\nchaux et de magn\u00e9sie: abondants.\"--NOTE BY TRANSLATOR.\n\n[12] The reader will perhaps like to see the reports of the episcopal\ncommission on this case:\n\n\"Hardly had Catherine Latapie-Chouat plunged her hand into the water,\nthan she felt herself to be entirely cured; her fingers recovered\ntheir natural suppleness and elasticity, so that she could quickly\nopen and shut them, and use them with as much ease as before the\naccident of October, 1856.\n\n\"From that time she has had no more trouble with them.\n\n\"The deformity of the hand of Catherine Latapie, and the\nimpossibility of using it, being due to an anchylosis of the joints\nof the fingers, and to a complete lesion of the nerves or the flexor\ntendons, it is certain that the case was a very serious one; as also\nby the uselessness of all the means of cure used during eighteen\nmonths, and by the avowal of the physician, who had declared to this\nwoman that her condition was irremediable.\n\n\"Nevertheless, in spite of the failure of such long and repeated\nattempts, the employment of various active healing agents, and\nthe statement of the physician, this severe lesion disappeared\nimmediately. Now, this sudden disappearance of the infirmity, and\nrestoration of the fingers to their original state, is evidently\nbeyond and above the usual course of nature, and of the laws which\ngovern the efficacy of its agents.\n\n\"The means by which this result has been brought about leave no\ndoubt in this respect, and establish this conclusion incontestably.\nIn fact, it has been averred(a) that the Massabielle water is of\nan ordinary character, without the least curative properties. It\ncannot, then, by its natural action, have straightened the fingers of\nCatherine Latapie and restored their suppleness and agility, which\nhad not been accomplished by the scientific remedies which were so\nvarious and used for so long a time. The wonderful result, then,\nwhich the mere touch of this water immediately produced, cannot be\nascribed to it, but we must rise to a superior cause, and do homage\nfor it to a supernatural power, of which the water of Massabielle has\nbeen, as it were, the veil and inert instrument.\n\n\"Besides, if ordinary water had been possessed of such a prodigious\npower, Catherine Latapie would have experienced its effect long\nbefore by the daily use which she made of it in washing herself and\nher children; for she had daily employed for this purpose water\nexactly similar to that at the grotto.\"--_Extract from the 15th\nproc\u00e8s-verbal of the commission._\n\n(a): This was, in fact, authentically averred, the administrative\nanalysis to the contrary notwithstanding, at the time of the\n_proc\u00e8s-verbaux_ of the commission.\n\n[13] We will also give the conclusions of the commission on this\npoint.\n\n\"An eruptive affection of this sort might not of itself have a\nvery grave character, nor threaten serious danger or disastrous\nconsequences. Still, that from which Marianne Garrot had suffered\nwould indicate by its duration, by its resistance to the treatment\nwhich had been prescribed and faithfully followed, and by its\ncontinual and progressive spreading, a very decidedly malignant\ncharacter, the inoculation, so to speak, of a deeply seated _virus_,\nto expel which would require long and persevering attention, with a\npatient continuance of the treatment already adopted or of some other\nmore appropriate and effectual one.\n\n\"The rapid though not instantaneous disappearance of the white\neruption from the face of the patient is very different from the\nusual effect of chemical preparations; for the first lotion produced\na perceptible improvement or partial cure _instantaneously_, which\nwas advanced by the second, made four days afterward; and without the\naid of any other remedy, these two lotions accomplished a complete\nrestoration in a few days by a gradual and rapid progress.\n\n\"Now, the liquid the employment of which produced this speedy effect\nwas nothing but water, without any special properties, and without\nany relation or appropriateness to the disease which it overcame;\nand which, besides, if it had possessed any such qualities, would\nlong before have produced the effect through the daily use which the\npatient made of it for drinking and washing.\n\n\"This cure cannot, then, be ascribed to the natural efficacy of\nthe Massabielle water, and all the circumstances, as it would\nseem--namely, the tenacity and activity of the eruption, the\nrapidity of the cure, and the inappropriateness of the element which\nbrought it about--concur to show in it a cause foreign and superior\nto natural agents.\"--_Extract from the 15th proc\u00e8s-verbal of the\ncommission._\n\n[14] Ninth proc\u00e8s-verbal of the commission.\n\n\n\n\nOUR NORTHERN NEIGHBORS.\n\n\nIn the adjustment of differences to which conflicting interests or\na spirit of rivalry may give birth, governments, like individuals,\nare prone to satisfy themselves with conventions limited to matters\nimmediately in dispute. They are like medical doctors, who treat\nsymptoms as the malady to be cured, and, satisfied with alleviating\npresent pain, leave its causes to war against mortal life, until\ndisease becomes chronic and incurable.\n\nWhether the labors of the Joint High Commission, now sitting in\nWashington, will be of this description, remains to be seen; but\nsuch, it appears to us, has been the character of treaties or\nconventions affecting commercial relations with our Canadian and\nprovincial neighbors. They seem not to have been founded upon any\nintelligent consideration of the wants of contracting parties,\nbut, presupposing that there must be conflicting interests, are\ndevised to prevent rival industries from merging in unfriendliness\nand strife. We ask, then, whether these rival interests have\nlegitimate existence. The answer to this question will be derived\nfrom an examination of the statistics of the two countries--their\nagricultural and other products--their climatic and social\nconditions, and the commercial relations actually subsisting between\nthem, as well as those which both sustain to other countries and\npeoples.\n\nThe productions of a country are properly classified according to the\nsources whence they are derived.\n\nWe have, then, five distinct classes of products, namely: The\nnatural productions of the sea, the earth, the forest, and the\nresults of industry applied to agriculture and manufactures.\n\nLet us now turn to the map of British America. Beginning at the east,\nthe waters of Newfoundland and the Gulf of St. Lawrence are rich\nin fisheries. They yield salmon, mackerel, codfish, haddock, ling,\nherring, and oysters, in great abundance. Newfoundland has not enough\nof agriculture to save its own population from absolute suffering\nwhen there is a failure in the catch of fish along its shores. It\npossesses rich though undeveloped deposits of copper, iron, and other\nores. Prince Edward Island, in the centre of the mackerel fisheries,\nis, perhaps, more favored by nature than the other maritime\nprovinces. Every acre of its surface may be reckoned as arable land.\nIts agriculture, always limited to the growth of hay, oats, potatoes,\nand turnips, is only partially developed, though even now yielding\na considerable surplus for export. Its forests are exhausted of\ntimber. And though, from habit, its people still continue to build\nwooden ships to send \"home\" for sale, they are obliged to import\nthe material for their construction. The southern part of Nova\nScotia contains a considerable portion of good farm lands; yielding\nthe invariable crops of hay, oats, potatoes, and turnips. In some\ndistricts, apples and pears, of excellent quality, are grown in\nabundance. The eastern portion, especially the island of Cape Breton,\nis rich in coal, lime, freestone, and marble; all so placed as to be\neasily accessible to commerce. Even now, despite protective duties\non colonial products, the streets of some of our Atlantic cities are\nlighted with gas from Nova Scotia coal.\n\nGold has been found in sufficient quantity to afford opportunity\nfor speculation, but not for profit. The yield for 1867 was 27,583\noz. = $413,745; for 1868, 20,541 oz. = $308,115. The same amount of\ncapital applied to the growing of potatoes would doubtless afford\na much larger return. Coal is the most important mineral product;\nand its chief market is found in the United States. The net amount\nmined in one year was 418,313 tons; sold for home consumption and\nto neighboring colonies, 176,392 tons; sent to the United States,\n241,921 tons.\n\nNew Brunswick offers the same agricultural products as the\nneighboring provinces of Prince Edward Island and Nova Scotia. A\ngreat part of its territory, like the northern part of Maine, is\ncold, rocky, and inarable. But its forests yield large quantities\nof pine lumber, oak, beech, maple, and other valuable woods, and\nbark for tanning leather. This source of wealth is, however, rapidly\nfailing. The forests begin to give evidence of exhaustion. St.\nJohn already asks what shall be her resource when the lumber is\ngone. Formerly, ship-building was a large interest in these lower\nprovinces. But from the growing scarcity of ship timber, as well as\nfrom the more general use of iron vessels, it has been declining from\nyear to year.\n\nWe see, then, what these provinces can now contribute to commerce;\nand we also see their prime deficiency. They cannot supply their\npeople with bread. That comes from Canada and the United States.\nBut Canada does not want their mackerel or other fish, their oats,\npotatoes, turnips, or hay. She wants money; and for want of a nearer\nmarket, the surplus oats must be sent upon a very doubtful venture\nacross the ocean, the mackerel to the United States, and the dried\nfish to the West Indies and Brazil, to get money to pay for Canadian\nbread. But time is money. It is more than money--it is life. And when\nwe take into account the loss of time in going to and fro across\nthe ocean, and the great expenditure of unproductive labor that is\nrequired by this selling to Peter on one side of the world to pay\nPaul on the other, we cannot help believing that the poor provincial\npays a high price for bread to eat and clothes to wear, as well\nas for the various products of other lands which, from being only\nconveniences, have become the necessaries of life.\n\nWe come now to the Province of Quebec--prior to the Dominion, called\nCanada East. Nearly all her territory lies north of the forty-sixth\nparallel of latitude. Need we say that agriculture, save for the few\nand slender productions of cold climates, is here impossible? For\nnearly seven months of the year the greater part of her rivers and\nharbors are closed to commerce by bars of impenetrable ice. The soil,\nand every industry relating to it, is under the dominion of frost.\n\nThe forests of timber may be accessible despite the snows of\nwinter, and in the early spring her people may hunt seals along the\ncoasts of Labrador; but during the long period of actual winter,\nher agriculturists, nearly her whole industrial population, must\nbe employed upon indoor labor, or be left to hibernate in positive\nidleness. It is simply impossible that agriculture can ever be a\nsuccessful industry in so rigorous a climate as that of Quebec.\n\nGoing westward through what was once called Canada West, now the\nProvince of Ontario, we find a peninsula bounded by the St. Lawrence\nRiver, Lake Ontario, and Lake Erie, on the south and east; and by\nLakes St. Clair and Huron, with their connecting straits, on the\nwest. This peninsula, south of 45\u00b0 N., comprises the wheat-growing\nlands of Canada east of Lake Winnipeg. Its area is something less\nthan that of the State of New York. It produces good crops of wheat\nand other cereals, and nearly all vegetables and fruits grown\nin our northern and northwestern states. Farther west, we have\nthe valleys of the Saskatchewan and its tributaries, capable of\nproducing cereals, grasses, potatoes, and other vegetables. But our\ninformation, derived from missionaries and others long resident in\nthat region, induces the belief that it is mere folly to regard a\ncountry in whose streams the fish lie torpid, and where the snow-fall\nis not enough to protect the land from killing frosts, in winter, as\nsuited to the growth of cereals for export, or as capable of giving\nbread to any considerable population.\n\nMuch has been said and written concerning the territory lying on the\nPacific coast. We believe it is well ascertained that the climate\nof British Columbia west of the mountains--we might well add the\nsoutheast coast of Alaska--is as mild as that of the state of New\nYork. Unfortunately, it is very much more moist; so much more that\nit never can become a good agricultural country. The reason is so\nobvious that one is hardly disposed to question the assertion. The\nvast accumulations of ice and snow in and immediately north of\nBehring Strait, and on the high mountain range lying on the east side\nof this territory, must produce intense cold when the wind blows from\nthe north and east. When the warm air comes from the southwest,\nthe whole atmosphere must resemble a vapor-bath. Seeds may readily\ngerminate, but can they produce ripe crops?\n\nWe have recently discussed this subject with a friend who has had\nintimate personal acquaintance with this coast for more than ten\nyears, and we but reiterate his assertion in saying that, north of\nOregon, agriculture is not a safe reliance for the support of a\ncolony. We do not doubt that hay, oats, and potatoes will grow there.\nIt is well known that they may grow where the sub-soil is everlasting\nice. But we know that agriculture cannot be profitable either there\nor where the heats of summer last just long enough to melt the snows\non adjacent mountains and convert the soil to mud. There must always\nbe an excess of moisture to contend with in maturing crops. Our\ninformation as to the fact is positive. But suppose that, in process\nof time, by the clearing of forest lands, and other causes incident\nto the peopling and cultivation of the soil, these difficulties were\novercome. Does any one believe that the products of the land could\nbe carried by rail and inland waters through a distance of three\nthousand miles, and two or three thousand more by sea, and, after\nsuccessive reshipments, at last pay the producer--save in cumulation\nof expenses added to the original cost of goods received in return?\nIf, then, this far western country should ever have an excess of food\nor other commodities, they must find a readier market than either the\nfar-off country of eastern Canada or more distant lands can afford.\nIts trade must be with the neighboring states of Washington, Oregon,\nand California. Will the people, on either side, long consent to pay\ntribute to government officials for the privilege of exchanging the\nfruits of their toil?\n\nWere they really of different races--distinct in language, manners,\nand customs beyond the degree that always makes the dwellers in one\nvillage imagine its \"excellent society\" a little superior to that of\nthe neighboring hamlet--we might say, yes! But knowing, as we do,\nthat they are by race, by conditions of soil and climate, and by\nreason of mutual interests, but one people, we do not believe it.\n\nLet us now glance at the map of the United States. Leaving out Maine,\nnorthern New Hampshire, and Vermont, in the northeast; the narrow\nbelt north of the 48th parallel, between Lake Superior and the\nPacific Ocean, in the northwest; Florida, Louisiana, and Southern\nTexas in the south; the whole vast area between the 32d and 46th\nparallels of latitude, from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean--in\nextent equivalent to three-fourths of all Europe--is suited to the\nproduction of wheat, rye, barley, Indian corn, oats, hay, potatoes,\nand every fruit found in temperate climates. There are no frosts\nto render agriculture a mere speculative enterprise; no bonds of\nice to close the ports to commerce. Seed-time and harvest may be\ncounted upon as certainly as the succession of seasons. Can there\nbe a doubt that here the material interest forming the basis of all\nothers is agriculture? We have no exact data for a comparison of the\nseveral products of the United States and British America; but for\nour immediate purpose it is quite unnecessary to present tables of\nstatistics. We refer only to chief products. First--of those common\nto both countries, the productions of the United States are to the\nproductions of Canada and the Lower Provinces as 13 to 1. The whole\nagricultural products of the United States, excluding those of\norchards, vineyards, and gardens--which would present a still wider\ndifference--are to those of Canada as 15 to 1. The annual yield of\nIndian corn in the United States is worth upwards of $800,000,000,\nor about five times the entire value of the agricultural product\nof British America. If we include in the comparison the values of\nanimals and animal products, orchards, vineyards, and gardens, the\nproportion is something nearer 30 to 1, while the breadth of improved\nland is not as 10 to 1. And this while the breadth of our improved\nland is not more than one-thirteenth of our territory--though double\nthe whole area of Great Britain and Ireland--and while any great\nexpansion of agriculture in Canada is forbidden by the conditions\nof soil and climate. Are not these considerations sufficient to\nshow the absurdity of persistence in the development of _rivalry_\nin agricultural and commercial interests? Do we not see that in the\nUnited States agriculture is legitimately the greatest industrial\ninterest, and that in Canada it is not? And we may well ask why the\nindustrial population of Canada should not be employed in utilizing\nits timber and other products of the forest and the mine, or,\nwhere material is more readily found in the neighboring country,\nusing the forces so abundantly provided by their inland waters and\nmines of coal, as well as by the muscle half-wasted for want of\nuse, in supplying fabrics which they now import, and pay for by\nthe scanty labors of just half the time that God has given them?\nThese considerations are in some degree applicable to New England.\nThe difference is, that New England knows it, and acts upon the\nknowledge.\n\nManufacturing is the appropriate industry of cold climates. When this\nis acknowledged, hibernation ceases. The people are no longer forced\nto eke out a meagre existence in winter upon the slender profits\nof toil spent in contention with chilling winds and frosts. True,\nCanada--a small part of it--produces bread for export. We know it:\nand we also know that every loaf costs twice as much, in human toil,\nas the better loaf yielded by the more generous soils and genial suns\nof Illinois, Minnesota, Iowa, New York, Ohio, Maryland, Virginia, and\nCalifornia. Canada produces good beef, mutton, pork, and, of course,\nthe raw materials for manufactures incident to these products. But\nthe herdsmen on the plains of Illinois, Iowa, Florida, and Texas\nwould grow rich in selling beeves, swine, and sheep for the cost of\ntheir keeping through a Canadian winter!\n\nOn the other hand, we see, in some parts of our own country, whole\ncommunities of people engaged in mechanical industries, while the\nearth calls for tillage. Even in our more populous territories,\nenough of what should be fruitful lands to yield subsistence to a\nlarger population than Canada will ever contain, lies fallow and\nneglected. But our commercial relations are adverse to the proper\nadjustment of industrial pursuits.\n\nThe Canadians dare not rely upon their neighbors for bread to eat,\nany more than those neighbors would venture to build their workshops\nand factories in Canada. The more venturesome try to obviate the\ndifficulty, to some extent, by illicit trade; but all the obstacles\nto legitimate commerce--to the conveniences of living--remain; and\nthey must remain as long as the American and Canadian producers have\nto pay tribute to C\u00e6sar on exchanging the fruits of their labors.\nReciprocity treaties may modify, but they cannot remove, this great\nobstacle to prosperous trade.\n\nTreaties regulating trade cannot so change the industries of the\ntwo countries as to confine large agricultural enterprises to the\nsoil and climate that would insure success, nor send the artisan,\nnow living on rich uncultivated lands, to till the earth. What means\nthe extraordinary emigration from Canada to the States? And how can\nwe account for the sudden expansion of manufacturing industries in\nMontreal and other Canadian towns? It means that, while governments\nare discussing treaties for reciprocal trade, their people are\npractising reciprocal emigration--but with a difference. The Canadian\nbecomes an American citizen--the American very rarely a British\nsubject. We recollect two incidents in our own experience apropos to\nthe matter under consideration.\n\nSome two years ago we passed a summer in the \"Lower Provinces.\"\nIn the parlor of our hotel, we fell into conversation with an\nintelligent man of business who proved to be a commercial traveller\nfrom Canada. His specialty was boots and shoes. On mentioning that\nLynn, in Massachusetts, was the great shoe factory of \"the States,\"\nhis reply was, \"Yes! the head of our firm is from Lynn.\" Lynn had\ngone to Montreal to employ Canadian hands in turning Canadian\nleather into boots and shoes to supply colonial markets. \"The head\nof our firm,\" like other heads of firms, had solved the problem of\nappropriate industry as far as he was concerned. He had learned where\nmaterial, and hands to work it, were cheapest, and he was utilizing\nthem. He had emigrated to employ the cheap labor that could not\nemigrate. At another time, we met a well-dressed mechanic who was not\nat _home_. His home was in \"the States.\" He was only visiting his\nbirthplace and kindred. In reply to the remark that the high wages\nwhich had enticed him to the States were only high in sound, since\ngreenbacks were at a great discount, and food, clothing, and rent at\ninflated prices, his reply evinced a perfect understanding of the\nwhole question, as it affected him and the class to which he belonged.\n\n\"True,\" said he, \"I am paid in greenbacks; but I have a better house,\nbetter food, and better clothes than I ever had before. And at the\nend of the year, my surplus greenbacks are worth more, _in gold_,\nthan I could get for a year's labor in this colony.\"\n\nHere are two parties whose interests are reciprocal, whose social\nconditions are essentially the same, who live in juxtaposition to\neach other, but with broad ocean between them and other countries\nand peoples, frittering away material interests, wasting revenues\nthat of right should be employed for their advancement in social\nlife, to gratify a spirit of antagonism where even rivalry should\nbe deemed insane. But is there no remedy for these disorders in our\npolitical economy? We think there is a very obvious one; and if we\nmay not say, \"What God has joined together, let not man put asunder,\"\nbecause the parties are not agreed, we can and do say, the sooner\nthey are agreed, the better for both. We would say to Canada, do not\nwaste your time and strength in trying to effect impossibilities.\nLet us see your many rivers alive with the artisans who can send to\nthe market something else than ship-timber and deals. Let us see\nthe smoke of the forge and the foundry rise in proximity to your\nmines of coal. We want all that you can make, and have no fear that\nyou will in any degree impair the prosperity of our own industrial\npeople. And we will pay you in bread, better and cheaper than you can\nget from your colder and less fruitful lands. And when your coarser\nmaterials are wrought into shape for export, we have skilled labor,\nnearer than Britain, to receive your surplus products and fashion\nthem into the thousand fabrics which only skilled labor can supply.\n\nWe have no desire to see your wheat-fields fail or to decry their\nproducts in the market. We only say that they are too limited for\ndangerous competition with ours. And we further say, that if you\nwill but develop other and more legitimate industries, so that your\nwheat-growing districts cannot feed your people, we will be sure to\nhave bread enough and to spare. And you may be also sure that all\nyour efforts will not so overstock the markets we can offer as to\nmake trade languish, when the thousands now peopling this continent\nshall become millions, though the Old World should want nothing that\nyou can give. And, then, you have but a doubtful road to the markets\nof the Old World. For half the year your highway to the ocean and\nto other lands must be across our territory. Intercolonial railways\nthrough unsettled and unproductive countries will not answer the\ndemands of commerce. They will not pay; and, if they would, the\ninterests served ought not to be so burdened where access may be had\nto readier and cheaper lines of communication.\n\nDoes all this imply annexation? Call it what you will. As one of your\nCanadian statesmen said to the people of a lesser province, \"If you\ndo not want us to annex you, we are willing that you should annex\nus.\" If you are more conservative than we are, a little conservatism\nwill do us no harm; and the interests you would conserve would be\nquite as safe under the eagle's beak as under the lion's paw. If one\nbe a bird, the other is surely a beast of prey; and we believe that\nharmless folk have less to apprehend from one alone than from the\njealous rivalries of both.\n\nOf one thing we feel assured: the time is not far distant when\nthe people of this northern half of America will have to adopt a\npolicy so distinct from that of the older nations of Europe that\nself-preservation will demand a union of power where there is now an\nevident identity of interests.\n\nIt were well that this union should be preceded by such guarantees\nof existing rights and privileges as might, without specific and\njust conventions, be open to subsequent question and dispute. And it\nwere also well for governments to direct the march which necessity\ncompels their people to make, rather than incur the risk of finding\nthemselves at variance with those for whose greater good civil\ngovernment is designed. We do not purpose to discuss the origin\nor foundation of civil government. It is enough for us to know\nthat man requires and God wills it; and that, in the absence of\nother and higher sanctions, the best evidence of his will is found\nin the intelligent, honest consent of the governed. Does any one\ndoubt what the more intelligent and honest people of Canada and the\nUnited States require? We do not ask what may be the _r\u00f4le_ of the\npolitical adventurer, the office-seeker, the government speculator\nor tuft-hunter. We always know that the end of all their loyalty or\npatriotism is self. But we ask what is needed for the greater good\nof the people. Not alone the people of to-day or to-morrow, but of\nthe future as well. How the people of to-day esteem the policy of\ntheir lawgivers, may be known by their conduct under it. And the\narmy of government revenue officers and detectives on either side\nalong the frontiers of Canada and \"the States\" offers sufficient\nevidence of the esteem in which the laws of trade are held. We know\nnot which is the more corrupt--the law-breakers or the agents of\nthe law; but we do know, from the notoriety of the fact, that the\ncommercial relations now existing between the Canadas and the States\nare, in effect, so demoralizing, to commercial people and commercial\ninterests, that the laws which propose to govern them were better\nabrogated than left to offer a premium to chicanery and fraud.\n\nWe are neither alarmists nor political propagandists. We have no\ngreedy desire for our neighbor's goods, no fanatical wish to impose\nour political dogmas or theories upon the people of other states. We\nbut behold and see what is before and around us--and, seeing it, we\nonly give utterance to belief that has grown and strengthened, until\nscarcely a doubt remains, when we say that we believe the ultimate\nunion of the United States and British America to be inevitable. The\ntime may be more or less distant, the occasion and the means may be\nas yet undreamed of; but the event seems as certain as the coming of\nthe morrow's sun while the shades of evening gather over and around\nus. If, unfortunately, war should take the place of peaceful union,\nthe calamity would hardly be less to us than to Canada.\n\nBy peaceful union, existing rights of the weaker party are made\nsecure. By war, they are jeopardized and may be lost. But to us, as\nwell as to them, war would be a calamity of such fearful magnitude,\nthat we are constrained to look with hope to the time when the\nconflicting interests of the Old World shall have no power to disturb\nthe peaceful relations that should always exist between ourselves and\nour neighbors.\n\n\n\n\nON THE HIGHER EDUCATION.\n\nSECOND ARTICLE.\n\n\nThe whole scope of the subject properly comprised under the title\n\"Higher Education\" obviously includes all that belongs to every kind\nof institute of learning above common schools. We have selected\nthis title in order to leave freedom to ourselves to discourse upon\nany part of the subject we might think proper, although in our\nfirst article we limited our remarks to a class of schools intended\nfor that which is more strictly to be designated as intermediate\neducation. We have a few additional remarks to offer upon the same\npart of our subject, after which we will proceed to throw out a few\nsuggestions upon some of its remaining and still more important\nportions. We are not attempting to treat these topics fully and\nminutely, and our observations will be, therefore, brief and\ndesultory.\n\nIn regard to the course of studies to be pursued in intermediate\nschools, it is a question of great practical moment how to arrange\nthe several branches to be taught to the pupils in such a way as to\nprepare them most efficiently for the future occupations of their\nlives. The course common to all ought to be made up of those studies\nwhich are alike necessary or important to all. In addition to these\ncommon studies, certain special branches should be taught, or the\ndistinct branches of the common course more extensively carried\nout, for distinct classes of pupils, varying these optional studies\naccording to the different occupations for which they are preparing.\nFor instance, a moderate quantity of mathematics and a rudimental,\ngeneral course of instruction in physical sciences are sufficient for\nall, except those who will need greater knowledge and practice in\nthem for use in their profession. It is useless to attempt, in these\ndays, education on the encyclop\u00e6dic principle. The common and solid\nbasis of all education once laid, the more specific it becomes, the\nbetter; and for want of good sense and skill in selecting studies,\napportioning the relative time and labor given to them, and directing\nthem to a definite end, very great waste and loss are incurred in\neducation.\n\nOne other most important point, which we merely notice, is the\npropriety of providing the most thorough instruction in the modern\nlanguages, especially the French, which can more easily be done, as\nwe suppose, in the schools of which we are speaking, that no time\nwhatever, or at most but a moderate amount, is given to the ancient\nlanguages. Without going further into details, it is obvious that\nschools of the intermediate class have an unlimited sphere in which\nthey can give any kind and degree of instruction belonging to the\nmost extensive and liberal education, deducting the classics, and\nstopping short of the university, properly so called. Nor is there\nany reason why, if we had universities in the highest sense of the\nterm, the pupils of these schools should not afterward enjoy all the\nprivileges they offer which do not require a knowledge of the ancient\nlanguages. We will not say anything on the vexed classical question.\nDid it seem to be practicable, we should strongly favor making the\nstudy of Latin a part of the education of all who go beyond the\ncommon rudiments, as well girls as boys, to such an extent that they\ncould understand the divine offices of the church. For all other uses\nor advantages, we are inclined to think that many pupils who occupy\na great deal of time in gaining a very imperfect smattering of Latin\nand Greek, might better spare it for other studies.[15]\n\nHowever the question may be eventually settled in regard to the\nclassics as a part of general education, it is certain that they must\nretain their place in the education of the clergy, and of at least a\nselect portion of those who are destined for other learned pursuits\nand professions. We shall speak more fully about this part of the\nsubject a little further on. Before leaving the topic of English\neducation, however, we have one or two supplementary observations to\nmake, suggested by the remarks of other writers which we have come\nacross since we began writing the present article.\n\nF. Dalgairns, in an article which he has published in the\n_Contemporary Review_, has expressed himself in a manner quite\nsimilar to our own respecting the necessity of a return to the\nscholastic philosophy. His remarks have given us great pleasure,\nand they furnish one more proof of the tendency toward unity in\nphilosophical doctrine among Catholics which is daily spreading and\ngaining strength. One observation of his on this head is specially\nworthy of attention. He says that it is necessary, if we desire to\nteach the scholastic philosophy to those who have received or are\nreceiving a modern or English education, to translate and explain\nits terms in the best and most intelligible English. A mere literal\ntranslation from Latin text-books will not answer the purpose.\nThis is very true, and we cannot refrain from expressing the wish\nthat the health and occupations of F. Dalgairns may permit him to\nwrite an entire series of philosophical essays, like the one he\nhas just published on the _Soul_, to which we have just referred.\nIndeed, we know of no one better fitted by intellectual aptitude for\nmetaphysical reasoning and mastery of the requisite art as a writer,\nto prepare a manual of philosophy for English students.\n\nThe _Dublin Review_ has repeated and sanctioned the observations of\nF. Dalgairns, and has added something to them equally worthy to be\nnoticed--to wit, that our Catholic text-books of logic need to be\nimproved by incorporating into them the results of the more careful\nand thorough analysis of the laws of logic which has been made by\nseveral English writers. It is very true that, although the English\nmetaphysic is a sorry affair, there have been several very acute\nlogicians among modern English thinkers; as, for instance, Mr. Mill,\nMr. De Morgan, and Sir William Hamilton. We suppose that the _Dublin\nReview_ intends to designate the doctrine of what is technically\ncalled the \"quantification of the predicate\" made known by the two\nauthors last mentioned, simultaneously and independently of each\nother, as a real discovery in logical science, and an addition to\nAristotle's laws. We hope the matter will be further discussed,\nand that not only English and American writers interested in the\nsubject of philosophical teaching will give it their attention, but\nContinental scholars also. For our own part, our _r\u00f4le_ at present\nis the modest one of giving hints and provoking discussion, and we\ntherefore abstain from going any deeper than a mere scratch of the\nrich soil we hope to see well dug and planted before long.\n\nFrom another and very different quarter, we have found within a day\nor two a corroboration of several opinions we expressed in our first\narticle. Prof. Seeley, of the University of Cambridge, England, in a\nlittle volume of essays, noticed by us in another place, advocates\nthe teaching of logic in English schools, dwells on the importance of\nteaching history after a better method, and sketches out a plan of\nimproving the instruction given in medium schools and universities,\nwhich is well worthy of being read and thought over by those who have\nthe direction of education.\n\nBut we will turn now to another and still higher department of\neducation, which embraces the courses of study proper to the\nuniversity and the schools which are preparatory to it. Beginning\nwith that branch of study which must undoubtedly still continue to\nform an essential and principal branch of the strictly collegiate\neducation, the classics, we do not hesitate to say that this branch,\ninstead of being less, ought to be more thoroughly and completely\ncultivated. In so far as Latin is concerned, it is evident that those\nwho aim at anything more than the degree of knowledge requisite for\nunderstanding better the modern languages, and the terms which are in\ncommon use derived from Latin, or, perhaps, for a more intelligent\nappreciation of church offices, ought to master the language fully,\ntogether with its classical literature. The reasons which prove this\nstatement apply with tenfold force to ecclesiastics, for whom Latin\nought to be a second mother-tongue. It is not necessary to give these\nreasons, for they are well known and fully appreciated by all who are\nconcerned with the collegiate or ecclesiastical education of Catholic\nyouth.\n\nThe question of Greek is a distinct one. For those who study the\nclassics for the sake of their intrinsic value as works of art, Greek\nhas the precedence of Latin in importance. It is evident, therefore,\nthat a most thorough and extensive course of Greek is necessary for\nstudents of this class. Whether such a course ought to be made a\npart of the obligatory collegiate curriculum of studies, or merely\nprovided for a select class who may choose to enter upon it, we leave\nto the discretion and judgment of the learned. Undoubtedly, we ought\nto have a certain number of accomplished Grecians among our men of\nletters. It is necessary in the interests of ecclesiastical learning\nthat we should have thorough Greek scholars among our clergy. For\nall useful purposes, however, the value of the amount of Greek\nactually learned by the majority is exceedingly small, and not to\nbe compared with the practical utility of a knowledge of any one of\nseveral modern languages, for example, the German. A clergyman,\nfor instance, who does not aspire to become a learned philologist,\nbut only to make himself acquainted with the labors of the best\ncommentators on the Scripture, will not find it very necessary to\nbe able to read the Septuagint or the Greek New Testament. As for\nHebrew, whatever can be learned by a short and superficial course\nwill be almost useless. If he desires to read Aristotle, Plato, or\nthe Greek fathers, for the sake of their sense and ideas, he can do\nso in the Latin translations without any fear of being led into any\nerroneous interpretation. The point we are driving at is, that the\nthorough study of Latin is the most essential thing to be secured in\na _classical_ course. Philosophy; a moderate course of mathematics;\nthe English language and literature; the physical sciences, and the\nmodern languages, especially the French, are the other essentials\nof a complete collegiate course. Whatever time remains will be most\nusefully employed in the study of history and of modern political\nand social questions, branches which are certainly essential to\na complete liberal education, though for many, or perhaps most,\nstudents their thorough cultivation may have to be postponed until\nafter their college course is finished. The improvement of the\ncollegiate education in all these branches, requires, of course,\na corresponding improvement in the preparatory schools, since the\nschool and college depend on each other. It is our opinion, in which\nwe are sure that the men most experienced in these matters concur,\nthat those who begin their schooling at the earliest suitable age\nneed to be well trained in an excellent preparatory school until\nthe age of seventeen, before they are fit to profit fully by a high\ncollegiate course. Those who begin later must enter college at a\nmore advanced age, unless they can make up by diligence for lost\ntime, or be content with a shorter course of study. The raising of\nthe conditions for entering college, which can be done gradually,\nmust improve the preparatory schools, and the improvement of these\nschools will in turn benefit the colleges, by furnishing them with\nsubjects fitted for a higher course of studies.\n\nIn saying this, we beg to disavow any intention of undervaluing or\nfinding fault with the colleges and schools at present existing,\nor the learned and laborious corps of teachers employed in them.\nThey deserve the highest meed of praise and gratitude, and we may\nwell congratulate ourselves on the truly vast work which has been\naccomplished, at great cost and by dint of great efforts, in the\ncause of Catholic education in this country. But our motto should\never be, like that of the past generations of laborers in this great\ncause, \"Upward and onward!\" We trust, therefore, that all we may say\nin favor of improvement will be taken as an encouragement and not as\na fault-finding criticism--as a friendly suggestion, and not as a\npresumptuous attempt at dictation.\n\nWe have now reached the proper place for speaking of the great\nnecessity of a Catholic University in the United States. A\nwell-conducted college for undergraduates is not a university,\nthough it is often dignified with that name; but is merely one of\nthe principal constituent parts of a university. In regard to the\nproper constitution, nature, and conduct of a university, much has\nbeen written, of late, both in Europe and America. In Europe, those\nwho write on the subject either consider the subject of improvement\nor reform in universities already existing, or the demands existing\nin various quarters for the foundation of new ones. These last are\nchiefly among Catholics, who are extremely alive to this necessity\nin several countries, but especially in Germany and England. The\nfoundation of a great Catholic University for Germany at the spot\nwhich is most appropriate for such a grand undertaking, on account\nof its hallowed and scholastic memories, Fulda, has been determined.\nWe hope that the efforts to make the Catholic University of Dublin\ncompletely successful, and to found another in England, may speedily\nproduce their desired result. In this country, the heads of the\nolder Protestant colleges are considering what measures can be taken\nto raise these institutions to the level of the universities of\nEurope. Among the papers which we have read from different quarters\non this subject, those of Professor Seeley, of Cambridge, and of one\nor two professors of Yale College, writing in the _New Englander_,\nhave especially attracted our attention; and we may have occasion\nto reproduce some of their remarks or suggestions in the present\narticle. Among the Catholics of the United States, the Germans have\nmanifested what looks like the most serious disposition which has\nyet shown itself for taking the actual initiative in the movement.\nWe rejoice to see it, and hope they may go on. They are a most\nrespectable body; their energy, wealth, and power of organized\naction are great. Germany is full of young ecclesiastics of the best\neducation, who are sighing for employment, and competent to fill\nchairs in all the departments except that of English literature.\nWe have but one precaution to suggest, in case this enterprise\nis undertaken, which is: that proper care be taken to secure the\nentire subordination of the corps of governors and teachers to the\nhierarchy and the Holy See, and to ascertain the strict orthodoxy\nof the persons called to fill the professorial chairs. We want no\nfollowers of Hermes, D\u00f6llinger, or any other leader of a German sect\nin philosophy or theology; and persons of that class whose _r\u00f4le_ is\nplayed out at home, might be the very first to look out for a new\nfield in which to practise their man\u0153uvres, in a German University\nin the United States, if they saw a chance of securing in it the\ndesirable position of professors--a position which has special\nattractions for the German mind.\n\nThe _Advocate_ of Louisville has recently spoken out very strongly on\nthe need of a Catholic University in this country; and the topic is\nfrequently broached in conversation, as, indeed, it has been for the\nlast fifteen years. Let the Germans go forward and take the lead if\nthey are able and willing; but this will not lessen the necessity of\nthe same action on the part of the other Catholics of the country,\nwho, we may hope, will be stimulated by the example of a body of men\nso much smaller in number than themselves. When the time comes for\naction in this matter, the direction of it will be in higher hands\nthan ours; but, meanwhile, we will indulge ourselves in the at least\nharmless amusement of sketching an ideal plan of the university as it\nlies in our own imagination, and of the possible method of making it\na reality.\n\nA university is a corporation of learned and studious men who are\ndevoted to the acquisition and communication of science and art\nin all their higher branches. It may be more or less complete and\nextensive. In its greatest extension it ought to comprise one or\nmore colleges for undergraduates, schools of all the special\nprofessional studies, and a school of the higher and more profound\nstudies in every department of literature and science. It must have\na permanent body of learned men residing within its precincts, whose\nlives are entirely devoted to study and instruction. It must have\na vast library; museums of science and antiquities; a gallery of\npainting, sculpture, and all kinds of artistic works; a complete\nscientific apparatus, a botanical garden, magnificent buildings,\nbeautiful chapels, and a grand collegiate church, with its chapter\nof clergymen and perfectly trained choir. It should have, also, a\ngreat publishing-house, and issue regularly its periodical reviews\nand magazines, as well as books, of the first class of excellence\nin the several distinct departments of science and letters. It must\nbe richly endowed, and well governed, under the supreme control\nand direction of the hierarchy and the Holy See. A plan combining\nthe chief distinctive features of the Roman University, Oxford,\nLouvain, and the best universities of France and Germany, with some\nimprovements, would represent the full and complete idea we have in\nour mind.\n\nWhen we come to the practical question. What could be done now, at\nonce, toward the beginning of such a colossal undertaking? it is by\nno means so easy to solve it as it is to sketch the plan of our ideal\nuniversity. We do not fancy, of course, that such a grand institution\nas this we have described, or even one similar to the best existing\nEuropean universities, can be created in a hurry by any speedy or\nsummary process. But if it is commenced now, can it not be brought\nto completion by the beginning of the twentieth century? It seems to\nus that in the year 1900 or 1925 we shall need not one only, but\nthree grand Catholic universities in the United States. That we can\nand ought to begin the work of founding one without delay, we have\nno doubt. The difficulty is, however, in pointing out a sensible\nand feasible method of doing well what many or most of us are ready\nto acknowledge ought to be done quickly. Let us suppose that the\nrequisite authority and the necessary funds are confided to the hands\nof the proper commission, who are to lay the first stones in the\nfoundation of a university. How should they proceed, and what should\nthey first undertake? As these high powers exist only potentially and\nin our own imagination, we can be certain that they will not take\noffence if we presume to offer them our opinion and advice.\n\nWhat is the first and most obvious want which we seek to satisfy\nby founding a university? It is the want of a collegiate system of\neducation and discipline superior to the one already existing in\nour colleges, and equal to any existing elsewhere. The first thing\nto be done, then, is to select some already existing college, or to\nestablish a new one, as the nucleus of the future university. We will\nsuppose that some one of our best colleges can be found which has the\nrequisite advantages of location, etc., making it an eligible place\nfor a great university. Let measures be taken to place the grade of\neducation and instruction in this college at the highest mark. The\nfirst of these measures must be to give it a corps of professors\nand tutors fully equal to their task, and to make the position of\nthese professors a dignified, honorable, and permanent one. Another\nmeasure of immediate necessity would be the total separation of the\ncollege from the grammar-school, and the establishment of a system\nof discipline suitable not for boys but for young men. The mere\nannouncement by sufficiently high authority that such a system would\nbe inaugurated in a college, would draw at once within its walls\nstudents enough eager to begin a thorough course of study, to secure\nthe success of the experiment. At first, the course of study already\nin vogue might be carried on, merely adding to it such branches as\nwould not presuppose a previous preparation not actually possessed\nby the students. For admission to the class of the next year to\ncome, the conditions might be raised one grade higher, and thus by\nsuccessive changes, previously made known, the maximum standard\nmight be reached without inconvenience or injustice to any; and the\ngrammar-schools would be enabled and obliged to prepare their pupils\nexpressly for the examination they would have to pass for admittance\ninto the college. The college thus properly planted and cultivated\nwould grow of itself in due time to maturity and perfection. Nothing\nmore is wanted than a good system, fit men to administer it, plenty\nof money, and a body of youth fit and desirous to be instructed and\neducated in the best manner. The library, the scientific cabinets,\nthe philosophical apparatus, the buildings, grounds, and other\nexterior means and appliances, should be provided for as speedily and\namply as circumstances would permit.\n\nThe second great want, in our opinion, is the provision for\necclesiastical students of the advantages for education which can\nonly be completely furnished by a university, and which cannot,\ntherefore, be fully enjoyed at separate ecclesiastical seminaries.\nThe Little Seminary is only a superior kind of grammar-school, even\nthough it gives instruction in the ancient languages and some other\nbranches to the same extent with a college. The Grand Seminary is,\nstrictly speaking, a college for instruction in theology, although\nit includes a year or two of that study of philosophy which is only\nintroductory to the theological course. A thorough university course,\nin which all the instruction preparatory to theology should be\nfinished, would give a more complete and thorough education to young\necclesiastics, fit them much better for their professional studies,\nand prepare them much more efficaciously for the high position\nwhich belongs, by all divine and human right, to the priesthood.\nThis is the way in which the clergy, both secular and regular, were\ntrained during the Middle Ages. The system of separate training\ncame in afterward, and has been kept up by a sort of necessity,\nchiefly because the universities have become so secularized as to be\ndangerous places. We have touched, in these last words, the tender\nspot, which we well know must be handled delicately. The great\nargument for secluding young ecclesiastics in seminaries entirely\nseparate from secular colleges is, that their morals, their piety,\ntheir vocation, are otherwise endangered. We reply to this by a\nsuggestion intended to do away with the objection to a university\nlife, and at the same time to show how its advantages may be secured.\nLet both systems be combined. Let there be a college exclusively\nintended for young ecclesiastics, in which they shall be kept under\nthe discipline of the Little Seminary, at the university. The Little\nSeminary will then take its place as a separate grammar-school for\nboys who are intended for the ecclesiastical state. From this school\nthey can pass, not before their seventeenth year, to the college at\nthe university, and they will have seven years still remaining in\nwhich to finish their education, before they arrive at the canonical\nage for ordination to the priesthood. It seems to us that the\nseparate college is a sufficient security for the morals, piety, and\nvocation of any young man above seventeen years of age who is fit\nto be a priest in this country outside of the walls of a monastery.\nMoreover, we are speaking about a model Catholic university, which,\nwe should hope, would not be so extremely dangerous a place for young\nmen. We have never heard that Louvain is considered in that light\nby the clergy of Belgium, and the glimpse we had of a large body of\nthe Louvain students at Malines during the session of the Congress\nof 1867, gave us the most favorable impression of their virtuous\ncharacter.\n\nThe university should also be the seat of the principal Grand\nSeminary, and of a school of Higher Theology. The reasons for\nlocating the place of education for ecclesiastics at a university\napply to all the grades of their distinct schools above that of the\ngrammar-school with nearly equal force, and they are very weighty in\ntheir nature. They concern in part the professors and in part the\nstudents. So far as the former are concerned, it is evident that\nthey would derive the greatest advantage from the facilities for\nstudy and intercourse with learned men afforded by the university,\nand would exercise the most salutary influence over the professors\nin the departments of philosophy and secular science. One great end\nof the university is to collect together a great body of learned men\ndevoted to the pursuit of universal science; and it is obvious that\nthis cannot be successfully accomplished unless the ecclesiastical\ncolleges are included within the corporation.\n\nIn regard to the students, it seems plain enough that all that\npart of their course which precedes theology can be much more\nthoroughly carried on at a university of the highest class than at\na Little Seminary, especially if these seminaries are numerous and\ntherefore necessarily limited in numbers and all kinds of means for\nimprovement. A concentration of the endowments, the instructors,\nand the pupils in one grand institution, makes it possible to give\na much better and higher kind of education, and saves a great deal\nof labor besides. It is especially, however, in relation to the\nlectures on physical science, and the cultivation of other general\nbranches distinct from the routine of class recitations, that the\nuniversity has the advantage over the seminary. The students of\ntheology, moreover, can receive great benefit from lectures of this\nkind, and from the libraries, museums, cabinets, etc., which a\ngreat university will possess, as well as from the greater ability\nand learning which men chosen to fill the chairs of sacred science\nin such an institution are likely to have, in comparison with\nthose who can be made available for giving instruction in many of\nthe smaller seminaries. Over and above all these advantages for\nactually gaining a greater amount of knowledge, there is the immense\nadvantage to be gained of bringing up together and binding into one\nintellectual brotherhood our most highly educated Catholic youth.\nThere is something in the atmosphere and the surroundings of a\ngreat university which quickens and enlarges the intellectual life;\nbrightens the faculties; trains the mind for its future career, and\nfits it to act in society and upon men. The alma mater is a centre\nof influences and associations lasting through life. The learned\nmen residing there, and their pupils in all professions, are bound\ntogether by sacred ties, which are not only a cause of pleasure to\nthem in future years, but of great power for good in the community.\nSuch a university as we have described would in twenty-five years\nproduce a body of alumni who would intellectually exert a great\ninfluence over the Catholic community throughout the United States,\nand make themselves respected by all classes of educated men. The\nclergy ought to retain the first place and a commanding influence\namong this body of educated Catholics. For this purpose, it seems to\nus that they ought to be educated with them, and look to the same\nuniversity as their alma mater.\n\nWe see no reason, moreover, why the religious orders and\ncongregations should not share and co-operate in the labors and\nadvantages of this great enterprise. The smaller congregations find\nthe suitable education of their postulants a difficult task. One or\nmore colleges at a university, where these students could reside\nby themselves, under their own rule and superior, but receiving\ntheir instruction from the university professors, would solve this\ndifficulty. The older and more numerous religious societies have\ngreater facilities for educating their students, and are governed\nby their own old and peculiar traditions. We will not presume so\nfar as to give them any suggestions from our modern brain in regard\nto matters in which they have the experience of from one to six\ncenturies. It strikes us, however, as a very pleasing and quite\nmedi\u00e6val idea, that our proposed grand university, which we may as\nwell make as splendid as possible while it remains purely ideal,\nshould have its Dominican, Jesuit, Sulpician, and Lazarist colleges.\nThere is no reason why such colleges should not make constituent\nparts of the university, each one having its own laws and regulating\nits own internal affairs according to its own standards.\n\nWe will say nothing about the law, medical, scientific, and artistic\nschools which a university ought to have to make it complete.\n\nWe have only attempted to show how a university might be started\non its career. Once really alive and in motion, the rest would be\nmore easily provided for. Undoubtedly, a vast sum of money would\nbe requisite for such an undertaking. Our wealthy Catholics would\nhave to exercise a princely liberality, and the whole mass of the\npeople would be obliged to contribute generously for many years in\nsuccession. We must admire the remarkable instances of princely\nliberality in the cause of general education recently given by Mr.\nPeabody, Mr. Cornell, and a considerable number of other wealthy\ngentlemen in the United States, whose benefactions to colleges and\nschools have been frequent and munificent. Let us have one-twentieth\npart of the money expended on education by other religious or learned\nsocieties, and we will show again what we did in former ages, when we\nfounded Oxford, Cambridge, St. Gall, Bec, Paris, Salamanca, Fulda,\nLouvain, Cologne, Pavia, Padua, Bologna, and the other famous schools\nof the middle ages. What more important or more glorious work can\nbe proposed to the Catholics of the United States than this? We\nknow what our Catholic youth are, for we have spent much time in\ngiving them both scholastic and religious instruction. What can be\nmore ingenuous, bright, and promising than their character--more\ncapable of being moulded and formed to everything that is virtuous\nand noble? They contain the material which only needs the proper\nformation to produce a new and better age, which we fervently hope\nis already beginning to dawn. As the Alcuins, Lanfrancs, and other\nillustrious fathers of education in former times were among the\nprincipal agents in producing epochs of new life, so those who take\nup their work now in our own country, and throughout Christendom,\nwill be among the principal benefactors of the church and the human\nrace, and deserve for themselves a most honorable crown.\n\nOur topic in the present article has led us to present almost\nexclusively and in strong light the advantages to be derived from a\nuniversity and from university education, in relation both to the\necclesiastical state and secular professions. To prevent mistake,\nwe add in conclusion, that we do not desire or anticipate the\nsuppression or merging into one institution of all our colleges and\nseminaries. It is scarcely possible that all the students of this\nvast country should be educated in one place. The necessity for other\ncolleges and seminaries will of itself create or continue them.\nThe university will give them an example and model to follow, will\nfurnish those not already amply provided for from the bosom of old\nand learned religious orders with professors, will give those who\ndesire it a chance to complete their studies after leaving college\nby residing for a time within its walls, and will reign as a queen\namong lesser institutions, giving tone, character, and uniformity\nto the scientific and literary community of Catholic scholars\nthroughout the country. There are doubtless certain respects in\nwhich the universities of Europe must always have an advantage over\nany institution we can hope to found in this new country. Some,\nor even many, will always have a longing for a residence abroad\nin these ancient seats of learning, which they may and ought to\ngratify, when it lies in their power to do so. Above all other\nplaces, Rome must ever draw to her those who desire to drink faith,\npiety, and knowledge from their fountain-head. And, if a better age\nis really coming, not only will the Pope necessarily be secured in\na more tranquil and firm possession of his temporal kingdom in all\nthe extent which he justly claims, that he may govern the church\nwith all the plenitude of his supremacy, but also that the wealth\nand prosperity of the Roman Church may give to her institutions\nof learning an amplitude and splendor which they have never yet\nattained. Planets are nevertheless necessary as well as a sun in a\nsystem, and so also are satellites. However ample and extensive the\nprovisions made at Rome may be for educating a select portion of\nthe clergy of all countries, they can never make it unnecessary to\nprovide also in every country for the best and highest education of\nits own clergy. So far as we can see, every reason and consideration\ncries out imperatively for the speedy foundation of a Catholic\nUniversity in the United States.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[15] Prof. Seeley advocates the plan of devoting a part of the time\nduring the last two years at English schools to Latin. The proper\nstudy of English must also include in it an analysis of the Latin\nelement, and an explanation of the derivation of words of Latin\norigin.\n\n\n\n\nTHE WARNING.\n\n\n      Ye nations of earth, give ear, give ear,\n        From Holy Writ comes the warning true,\n      The voice of the ancient captive seer\n        Through the dim-aisled centuries reaches you.\n\n      Thus saith the seer: \"Ye have lifted high\n        Against his altar your impious hand;\n      From the Lord's spoiled house is heard the cry,\n        'Destruction swift to this guilty land.'\"\n\n      But a deeper than Belshazzar's wrong\n        Veils the light of these mournful years,\n      And many an eye in the saintly throng\n        Turns from the earth bedimmed with tears.\n\n      The Holy City by promise given,\n        A precious dower to the spotless bride,\n      Is trodden by feet outlawed, unshriven,\n        And her streets with martyrs' blood are dyed.\n\n      The crown that ever has fallen as light\n        On holy brows, from the Hand above,\n      Has been torn away by sinful might\n        From him whose rule was a father's love.\n\n      The deed was by one; the sin by all;\n        By ay, or by silence, ye gave assent;\n      Ye saw the shrine to the spoiler fall,\n        Nor hand ye lifted, nor aid ye lent.\n\n      O nations of earth! give ear, give ear,\n        From Holy Writ comes the warning true,\n      The voice of the ancient captive seer,\n        From the far-off ages, speaks to you!\n\n\n\n\nWRITING MATERIALS OF THE ANCIENTS.\n\n\nIt is curious to remark the various and apparently incongruous\nsubstances which men, in their efforts to preserve knowledge\nor transmit ideas, have used as writing materials. The animal,\nvegetable, and mineral kingdoms have each and all been laid under\ncontribution. In every land and in every age, stone and marble have\nbeen employed to perpetuate the remembrance of the great deeds of\nhistory. Inscriptions cut in jasper, cornelian, and agate are to\nbe met with in every collection of antiquities. A cone of basalt\ncovered with cuneiform characters was found some years since in the\nriver Euphrates, and is now preserved in the Imperial Library of\nParis, side by side with the sun-baked bricks on which the Babylonian\nastronomers were wont during seven centuries to inscribe their\nobservations on the starry heavens.\n\nThe Romans made books of bronze, in which they engraved the\nconcessions granted to their colonies; and they preserved on tablets\nand pillars of the same durable material the decrees and treaties of\nthe senate, and sometimes, even, the speeches of their emperors.\n\n\"The B\u0153otians,\" says the learned Greek geographer Pausanias, \"showed\nme a roll of lead on which was inscribed the whole work of Hesiod,\nbut in characters that time had nearly effaced.\"\n\n\"Who will grant me,\" cries Job, \"that my words may be written? who\nwill grant me that they may be marked down in a book? With an iron\npen and in a plate of lead, or else be graven with an instrument in\nflintstone?\" (xix. 23 24.)\n\nTanned skins were likewise employed for writing purposes by the\nAsiatics, the Greeks, the Romans, and the Celts. In the Brussels\nlibrary there is to be seen a manuscript of the Pentateuch, believed\nto be anterior to the ninth century, written on fifty-seven skins\nsewed together, and forming a roll more than thirty-six yards long.\n\nThe custom of writing on leathern garments appears to have been\nprevalent during the middle ages. The great Italian poet, Petrarch,\nused to wear a leathern vest, on which, while sitting or sauntering\nnear the shaded margin of the fountain of Vaucluse, he would note\neach passing thought, each poetic fancy. This precious relic, covered\nwith erasures, still existed in 1527.\n\nWe read, too, of a certain abbot who strictly enjoined his monks, if\nthey happened to meet with any of the works of St. Athanasius, to\ntranscribe the precious volumes on their clothes, should paper be\nunattainable.\n\nThe use of prepared sheep-skin, that is, parchment, dates from\nabout a hundred and fifty years before the Christian era; its Latin\nname, _pergamena_, is very evidently derived from Pergamos, but\nwhether because invented there, or because it was more perfectly\nprepared in that city than elsewhere, is a question not yet decided.\nBesides white and yellow parchment, the ancients employed purple,\nblue, and violet. These dark shades were intended to be written on\nwith gold and silver ink. Several very beautiful manuscripts of\nthis description are to be seen in the Imperial Library of Paris.\nParchment manuscripts were sometimes of great size; thus, the roll\ncontaining the inquiry concerning the Knights Templars, which is\nstill preserved in the archives of France, is full twenty-three yards\nlong.\n\nParchment became very scarce during the invasions of the barbarians,\nand this scarcity gave rise to the custom of effacing the characters\nof ancient manuscripts in order to write a second time on the skin.\nThis unfortunate practice, most prevalent among the Romans, and\nwhich was continued until the invention of rag paper, has occasioned\nthe loss of many literary and scientific treasures. The primitive\ncharacters of some few of these doubly-written manuscripts, or\npalimpsests, as they are called, have been restored by chemical\nscience, and several valuable works recovered; among others, for\ninstance, Cicero's admirable treatise on the Republic.\n\nEven the intestines of animals have been used as writing material.\nThe magnificent library of Constantinople, burnt under the Emperor\nof the East, Basiliscus, is said to have contained, among its other\ncuriosities, the Iliad and the Odyssey, traced in letters of gold on\nthe intestine of a serpent. This rare specimen of caligraphy measured\none hundred and twenty feet.\n\nThe most ancient inscribed characters we possess are upon wood. A\nsycamore tablet containing an engraved inscription was discovered,\nabout thirty years since, in one of the Memphis pyramids; the\nlearned Egyptologist who deciphered it pronounced it to have been in\nexistence some five thousand nine hundred years! The Chinese, also,\nbefore they invented paper two thousand years ago, wrote upon wood\nand bamboo. Many oriental nations still make books of palm-leaves, on\nwhich the characters are scratched with a sharp-pointed instrument.\nThe Syracusans of bygone times used to write their votes on an\nolive-leaf. The modern Maldivians trace their hopes, fears, and\nwishes on the gigantic foliage of their favorite tree, the makareko,\nof which each leaf is a yard long and half a yard wide. The Imperial\nLibrary of Paris, rich in all that is rare and interesting, possesses\nseveral ancient leaf manuscripts, some beautifully varnished and gilt.\n\nIn Rome, before the use of bronze tables and columns, the laws were\nengraven on oak boards. \"The annals of the pagan high-priests,\" says\na French writer, \"which related day by day the principal events of\nthe year, were probably written with black ink on an _album_, that\nis, a wooden plank whitened with white-lead. These annals ceased a\nhundred and twenty years before Christ, but the use of the _album_\nwas kept up some time longer.\" The Romans also wrote their wills on\nwood.\n\nLinen cloth covered with writing has been found in most of the\nmummy-cases that have been opened. The Egyptian Museum in the Louvre\ncontains several rituals on cloth. The Sibylline Oracles were traced\non cloth. The first copy of the Emperor Aurelian's journal that was\nmade after his death was written on cloth, and is still preserved in\nthe Library of the Vatican. On cloth were written also some of the\nedicts of the first Christian emperors.\n\nNo certain epoch can be ascribed to the fabrication of paper from\nthe papyrus reed. The celebrated French _savant_, Champollion the\nyounger, discovered during his travels in Egypt several contracts\nwritten on papyrus, which by their date must have been drawn up\nseventeen hundred years B.C.\n\nEgypt appears to have kept the monopoly of the papyrus paper trade.\nThe principal manufactories of it were situated at Alexandria, and\nso important an article of commerce did it become that a dearth of\npapyrus was the cause of several popular disturbances in some of\nthe great cities of Italy and Greece. Under the Emperor Tiberius, a\nscarcity in the supply produced so formidable a riot in Rome, that\nthe senate was compelled to take measures similar to those necessary\nin years of famine, and actually had to name commissaries, whose duty\nit was to distribute to each citizen the quantity of writing-paper he\nabsolutely required.\n\nThe papyrus reed seems indeed to have been ancient Egypt's greatest\nmaterial blessing, for not only was it the principal article of\nforeign commerce and source of immense wealth in the form of paper,\nbut it was also of the most extraordinary utility to the poorer\nclasses. Household utensils of every description were fabricated from\nits roots; boats were constructed of its stem; roofing, sail-cloth,\nropes, and clothes were made of its bark; and from the appellation\nof \"eaters of papyrus,\" often applied to the Egyptians by the\nGreeks, some have thought that it was a common article of food. How\nextraordinary does it then seem that a plant of such inestimable\nvalue should ever have disappeared from a land which derived such\nbenefits from it. Nevertheless, it is a singular fact that the\npapyrus is no longer to be found in Egypt; recent travellers assure\nus that not a stalk is to be seen at the present day in the Delta.\nSicily alone now possesses the beautiful reed.\n\nWe are ignorant of the exact period of the introduction of the\npapyrus paper into Greece and Italy, but Pliny has left us copious\ndetails concerning the manipulations it underwent among the\nRomans. Sizing was then, as it is now, one of the most important\noperations in paper-making. The membranous covering of the stem of\nthe papyrus reed was far from being of a firm, compact texture, and\nthe Alexandrian factories probably sent it forth very imperfectly\nprepared. The best quality of paper was made by gluing together,\nwith starch and vinegar, two sheets of papyrus, one transversely\nto the other, and then sizing them. These sheets were sometimes of\nconsiderable dimensions; documents have been discovered written on\npaper three yards in length.\n\nThose true lovers of literature, art, and science, the Athenians,\nraised a statue to Philtatius--to him who first taught them the\nsecret of sizing paper!\n\nIt is a curious fact that, about thirty years since, the vegetable\nsize used by the ancient Egyptians was introduced, with some slight\nimprovement, as a new discovery, into the paper manufactories of\nFrance, and has now almost entirely abolished the use of animal size\nin that country for all purposes connected with the fabrication of\npaper.\n\nAbout the fourth century, the Arabs made Europe acquainted with\ncotton paper, just then invented in Damascus, thereby causing a\ngreat diminution in the papyrus trade. A long struggle ensued\nbetween the rival productions, which was only put an end to at the\ncommencement of the twelfth century, by the invention of paper\nmanufactured from flaxen and hempen refuse. The papyrus disappeared\nat once and completely; soon forgotten by commerce, but immortal in\nthe remembrance of poets and sages--immortal as the pages of Cicero\nand Virgil, whose sweet and eloquent thoughts were first traced on\nEgypt's reed.\n\nUntil the present time, this flaxen and hempen rag paper has\nbeen produced in sufficient quantities for the necessities of our\ncivilization, but as civilization increases, and as education becomes\nmore general, especially among the masses of Europe, it is evident\nthat the supply of rags will be inadequate to the demand, and wood\nwill most probably again be brought into requisition, as in the age\nof Pericles.\n\nNot, however, in the form of the ancient tablets, but transformed\nby mechanical and chemical science into sheets of white and pliant\npaper; or the numerous fibrous plants of Algeria, Cuba, and other\ntropical countries will be turned to account, and no longer permitted\nto waste their usefulness on the desert air. Even now, in France,\namong the Vosges Mountains, there is a paper manufactory where wood\nis manipulated with the most complete success. And some few years\nsince, a newspaper paragraph informed the civilized world that a\nprocess of making paper from marble had been discovered by a canny\nScotchman of Glasgow! It is not, indeed, impossible that the marble\npainfully hewn and engraven by our forefathers to perpetuate the\nmemory of a bloody struggle or of some vain triumph, may in time to\ncome, by the magic power of modern science, become a sheet of snowy\ntissue, whereon the fair, slight hand of beauty shall trace the\ndainty nothings of fashionable life!\n\nThe tablets so continually mentioned by ancient writers must be\nnoted. They were made of parchment, thin boards, ivory, or metal,\nprepared to receive ink, or coated with wax and written on with a\nstylus, or sharp-pointed pencil. In the Fourth Book of Kings we read:\n\"I will efface Jerusalem as tables are wont to be effaced, and I\nwill erase and turn it, and draw the pencil over the face thereof.\"\nHerodotus and Demosthenes speak of their tablets. In Rome, they were\nused not only as note-books and journals, but also for correspondence\nin the city and its environs, while the papyrus served for letters\nintended to be sent to a distance. The receiver of one of these notes\nnot unfrequently returned his answer on the same tablet. Made of\nAfrican cypress and highly ornamented and inlaid, they were given\nas presents, precisely as portfolios, souvenirs, and note-books are\nnowadays. On the wax-covered tablets was generally traced the first\nrough copy of any document, to be afterward neatly written out either\non papyrus or parchment. These wax-covered tablets were used in\nFrance until the beginning of the last century.\n\nTwo-leaved tablets were called diptychs, and were sometimes of\nextraordinary cost and beauty. The Roman consuls and high magistrates\nwere accustomed, on their first appointment to office, to present\ntheir friends with ivory diptychs, exquisitely engraved and carved,\nand ornamented with gold.\n\nAncient ink was composed of lamp-black and gum-water. Pliny says that\nthe addition of a little vinegar rendered it ineffaceable, and that\na little wormwood infused in it preserved the manuscript from mice.\nThis ink was used until the twelfth century, when our present common\nink was invented.\n\nNot only black, but also red, blue, green, and yellow inks were\nemployed in antiquity. Sepia ink and Indian ink are mentioned by\nPliny. Red ink, made from a murex, was especially esteemed, and\nreserved for the emperor's exclusive use, under pain of death to all\ninfringers of the privilege. Gold and silver inks, principally used\nfrom the eighth to the tenth centuries, were also prized; writers\nin gold, termed chrysographers, formed a class apart among writers\nin general. The Imperial Library of Paris possesses several Greek\nGospels, and the _Livre des Heures_ of Charles the Bold, entirely\nwritten in gold. Few manuscripts are extant written in silver; the\nmost celebrated are the Gospels, preserved in the Upsal Library.\n\nThe stylus, a dangerous weapon when made in iron, and proscribed\nby Roman law, which required it to be of bone; the painting brush,\nused still by the Chinese; the reed, which was cut and shaped like\nour modern pen, and with which some oriental nations write even now;\nand the feather pen, which is mentioned by an anonymous writer of\nthe fifth century, were the general writing implements of antiquity\nand the middle ages. Metallic pens are also supposed to have been\nknown; the Patriarchs of Constantinople were accustomed to sign their\nofficial acts with a silver reed, probably of the form of a pen.\n\nSome paintings found in Herculaneum give evidence that the ancients\nwere accustomed to make use of most, if not of all the various\nconveniences with which modern writers surround themselves. The\nwriting-desk, the inkstand, the penknife, the eraser, the hone,\nand the powder-box were well-known. They do not seem, however, to\nhave had the habit of sitting up to a table to write, but rested\ntheir tablet or paper on their knee, or on their left hand, as the\norientals do at the present day.\n\n\n\n\nDO\u00d1A FORTUNA AND DON DINERO.[16]\n\nFROM THE SPANISH OF FERNAN CABALLERO.\n\n\nWell, sirs, Do\u00f1a Fortuna and Don Dinero were so in love that you\nnever saw one without the other. The bucket follows the rope, and Don\nDinero followed Do\u00f1a Fortuna till folks began to talk scandal. Then\nthey made up their minds to get married.\n\nDon Dinero was a big swollen fellow, with a head of Peruvian gold, a\nbelly of Mexican silver, legs of the copper of Segovia, and shoes of\npaper from the great factory of Madrid.[17]\n\nDo\u00f1a Fortuna was a mad-cap, without faith or law, very slippery,\nuncertain, and queer, and blinder than a mole.\n\nThe pair were at cross purposes before they had finished the\nwedding-cake. The woman wanted to take the command, but this did not\nsuit Don Dinero, who was of an overbearing and haughty disposition.\nWhy, sirs! my father (may glory be his rest!) used to say that if the\nsea were to get married he would lose his fierceness. But Don Dinero\nwas more proud than the sea and did not lose his presumption.\n\nAs both wished to be first and best, and neither would consent to be\nlast or least, they determined to decide by a trial which of the two\nhad the more power.\n\n\"Look,\" said the wife to the husband, \"do you see, down there in\nthe hollow of that olive-tree, that poor man so discouraged and\nchop-fallen? Let's try whether you or I can do more for him.\"\n\nThe husband agreed, and they went right away, he croaking, and she\nwith a jump, and took up their quarters by the tree.\n\nThe man, who was a wretch that had never in his whole life seen\neither of them, opened eyes like a pair of great olives when the two\nappeared suddenly in front of him.\n\n\"God be with you!\" said Don Dinero.\n\n\"And with his grace's worship also,\" replied the poor man.\n\n\"Don't you know me?\"\n\n\"I only know his highness to serve him.\"\n\n\"You have never seen my face?\"\n\n\"Never since God made me.\"\n\n\"How is that--have you nothing?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir; I have six children as naked as colts, with throats\nlike old stocking-legs; but, as to property, I have only _grab and\nswallow_, and often not that.\"\n\n\"Why don't you work?\"\n\n\"Why? Because I can't find work, and I'm so unlucky that everything I\nundertake turns out as crooked as a goat's horn. Since I married, it\nappears as though a frost had fallen on me. I'm the fag of ill-hap.\nNow, here--a master set us to dig him a well for a price, promising\ndoubloons when it should be finished, but giving not a single\n_maravedi_[18] beforehand.\"\n\n\"The master was wise,\" remarked Don Dinero. \"'Money taken, arms\nbroken,' is a good saying. Go on, my man.\"\n\n\"I put my soul in the work; for, notwithstanding your worship sees me\nlooking so forlorn, I am a man, sir.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Don Dinero, \"I had perceived that.\"\n\n\"But there are four kinds of men, se\u00f1or. There are men that are men;\nthere are good-for-naughts; and contemptible monkeys; and men that\nare below monkeys, and not worth the water they drink. But, as I was\ntelling you, the deeper we dug, the lower down we went, but the fewer\nsigns we found of water. It appeared as if the centre of the world\nhad been dried. Lastly, and finally, we found nothing, se\u00f1or, but a\ncobbler.\"\n\n\"In the bowels of the earth!\" exclaimed Don Dinero, indignant at\nhearing that his ancestral palace was so meanly inhabited.\n\n\"No, se\u00f1or!\" said the man deprecatingly; \"not in the bowels; further\non, in the country of the other tribe.\"\n\n\"What tribe, man?\"\n\n\"The antipodes, se\u00f1or.\"\n\n\"My friend, I am going to do you a favor,\" said Don Dinero pompously;\nand he put a dollar in the man's hand.\n\nThe man hardly credited his eyes; joy lent wings to his feet, he was\nnot long in arriving at a baker's shop and buying bread, but, when he\nwent to take out his money, he found nothing in his pocket but the\nhole through which his dollar had gone without saying good-by.\n\nThe poor fellow was in despair; he looked for it, but when did one\nof his sort ever find anything? No; St. Anthony guards the pig that\nis destined for the wolf. After the money he lost time, and after\ntime patience, and, that lost, he fell to casting after his bad luck\nevery curse that ever opened lips.\n\nDo\u00f1a Fortuna strained herself with laughing. Don Dinero's face turned\nyellower with bile, but he had no remedy except to put his hand in\nhis pocket and bring out an _onza_[19] to give the man.\n\nThe poor fellow was so full of joy that it leaped out of his eyes.\nHe did not go for bread this time, but hurried to a dry-goods store\nto buy a few clothes for his wife and children. When he handed the\n_onza_ to pay for what he had bought, the dealer said, and stuck to\nit, that the piece was bad; that no doubt its owner was a coiner of\nfalse money, and that he was going to give him up to justice. On\nhearing this, the poor man was confounded, and his face became so hot\nthat you might have toasted beans on it; but he took to his heels\nand ran to tell Don Dinero what had happened, weeping the while with\nshame and disappointment.\n\nDo\u00f1a Fortuna nearly burst herself with laughing, and Don Dinero felt\nthe mustard rising in his nose.[20] \"Here,\" said he to the poor man,\n\"take these two thousand reals; your luck is truly bad; but if I\ndon't mend it, my power is less than I think.\"\n\nThe man set off so delighted that he saw nothing until he flattened\nhis nose against some robbers. They left him as his mother brought\nhim into the world.\n\nWhen his wife chucked him under the chin and said it was her turn,\nand it would soon be seen which had the more power, the petticoats or\nthe breeches, Don Dinero looked more shame-faced than a clown.\n\nShe then went to the poor man, who had thrown himself on the ground\nand was tearing his hair, and blew on him. At the instant the lost\ndollar lay under his hand. \"Something is something,\" he said to\nhimself; \"I'll buy bread for my children, for they have gone three\ndays on half a ration, and their stomachs must be as empty as a\ncharity-box.\"\n\nAs he passed before the shop where he had bought the clothes, the\ndealer called him in, and begged of him to overlook his previous\nrudeness; said that he had really believed the _onza_ to be a bad\none, but that the assayer, who happened to stop as he passed that\nway, had assured him that it was one of the very best, rather over\nthan under weight, in fact. He asked leave to return the piece, and\nthe clothes besides, which he begged him to accept as an expression\nof sorrow for the annoyance he had caused him.\n\nThe poor man declared himself satisfied, loaded his arms with the\nthings; and, if you will believe me, as he was crossing the plaza,\nsome soldiers of the civil guard were bringing in the highwaymen that\nhad robbed him. Immediately, the judge, who was one of the judges\nGod sends, made them restore the two thousand reals without costs\nor waste. The poor man, in partnership with a neighbor of his, put\nhis money in a mine. Before they had dug down six feet they struck a\nvein of gold, another of lead, and another of iron. Right away people\nbegan to call him Don, then \"You Sir,\" then Your Excellency. Since\nthat time Do\u00f1a Fortuna has had her husband humbled and shut up in her\nshoe, and she, more addle-pated and indiscriminating than ever, goes\non distributing her favors without rhyme or reason, without judgment\nor discretion--madly, foolishly, generously, hit or miss, like the\nblows of the blind stick; and one of them will reach the writer, if\nthe reader is pleased with the tale.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[16] Madame Fortune and Sir Money.\n\n[17] The Bank of Madrid.\n\n[18] Less than a farthing.\n\n[19] A gold piece valued at sixteen dollars.\n\n[20] Was becoming angry.\n\n\n\n\nST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI.\n\n\n      My brothers, ye are sad, and my sisters, ye are poor,\n      But once was holy poverty the cloak that angels wore;\n      My fathers, ye are lame, and my children, pale ye be,\n      But in every face, by his dear grace, that blessed Lord I see\n      Who brother is and father is, and all things, unto me.\n\n      In the sigh of sick men's prayers, in the woeful leper's eye,\n      In the pangs of wicked men, in the groans of them that die,\n      Thy voice I hear, thine eye I see, thy thought doth hedge me in.\n      Oh! may thy sinner bear thy stripes for them that toil in sin,\n      And with thy ransomed suffering ones find me my choicest kin.\n\n      For, whether down to pious rest on these bare stones I lie,\n      Or if at last upon thy cross triumphantly I die,\n      The joy of thee, the praise of thee, is more than all reward;\n      For holy misery doth most with heavenly bliss accord:\n      All ways are sweet, all wounds are dear, to them that seek the Lord.\n\n      I made a harp to praise the Lord with ever-glorious strain;\n      I tuned a harp to praise my God, and all its strings were pain:\n      Its song was like to fire, but sweet its keenest agony,\n      And thus in every tune and tear its burden seemed to be,\n      \"So great is the joy that I expect, all pain is joy to me.\"\n\n      Through all the weary world do I an exiled orphan roam,\n      Yet for thy sake were desert cave a palace and a home;\n      And birds, and flowers, and stars are lights to read thy Scripture\n          by,\n      And earth is but a comment rude unto thy wondrous sky,\n      The which to reach, my soul must teach earth's body how to die.\n\n      With thy wayfaring ones my crust I've broken by the brooks,\n      When flowers were as our children fair, our comrades were the oaks,\n      And wildest forests for thy praise were churches, choirs, and\n          clarks--\n      Such house and kindred doth he find who to thy wisdom harks.\n      Praise ye the Lord, ye spirits small--my sisters sweet, the larks!\n\n      The untented air is home for me who in thy promise sleep,\n      Or wake to find thee ever nigh, and still my sins to weep;\n      And holy poverty's disguise is pleasant to thine eye;\n      Yea, richer garb was never worn, that treasures may not buy,\n      Since thou hast clad me with thy love, and clothed me with the sky.\n\n      Oh! could I for one moment's light thy heavenly body see,\n      All joy were pain, all pain were joy, all toil were bliss to me.\n      I would give mine eyes for weeping, and my blood should flow like\n          wine,\n      To purchase in that sight of bliss one blessed look of thine,\n      Who hath ransomed with a crown of pain this sinful soul of mine!\n\n      My brethren, ye are poor, but as children ye are wise,\n      Who wander through the wilderness in quest of paradise.\n      O little children! seek the Lord, wherever he may be,\n      Whose blessed face by his dear grace on every side I see,\n      Who brother is, who father is, and all things, unto ye.\n\n\n\n\nLETTER FROM ROME.\n\n\n                                        ROME, Jan. 21, 1871.\n\nFour months have gone by since the Italian troops entered Rome\nthrough the breach made by the cannon of Cadorna, four months since\na new light dawned upon the Eternal City, and its regenerators set\nabout the accomplishment of their aspirations. What has been the\ndevelopment of this third life of Rome--_la terza vita_, as Terenzio\nMamiani has been pleased to style it--in this its primal stage? The\nchild is father to the man--the seed produces the tree and its fruit.\nSo, too, do the beginnings of a political state give an index of its\nfuture, fix the causes that are to produce the results of the future.\nThe history of these four months, then, must be looked on with\ninterest, and pondered with care.\n\nThe present century is universally considered an age of progress, and\nit was in the name of progress that the forces of Victor Emmanuel\nentered the capital of Christianity. Progress implies motion from one\nstate or condition to another more perfect: the simplicity of this\nstatement cannot be gainsaid, and we shall assume it as uncontested.\nThe party of progress took possession of Rome in the interest of\nprogress. Has Rome progressed during these months since the 20th of\nSeptember? Has she gone from her past state to one more perfect?\nFacts must speak; and facts we give. One thing at a time.\n\nAbundance and cheapness of food are the first essentials in the\nwell-being of a state, and necessarily connected with this is the\nfacility of obtaining it. We cannot say that food is scarce in\nRome; but the absolute and the relative cheapness have undergone a\ndecided change, to the disadvantage of the poorer as well as the\nwealthier classes, since the 20th of September. The _mocinato_,\nor so-called grist-tax, extending even to the grinding of dried\nvegetables, chestnuts, and acorns, has sent up the price of bread.\nSalt has risen at least a cent per pound. The further application\nof the system of heavy taxation is not likely to make other\narticles of prime necessity cheaper. And while this state of things\nexists, the facility of obtaining food has become much less for the\npoorer classes. The causes of this are to be sought in the want of\nemployers. It is the universal complaint that there is no work.\nBefore the coming of the present rulers, the army of the Pope,\ncomposed in great part of young men of some means, spent a great deal\namong the people. This source of gain ceased with the disbandment of\nthe Papal troops, for it is notorious _lippis et tonsoribus_, that\nthe men of the present contingent have barely enough daily allowance\nto keep body and soul together. Besides this, ecclesiastics spent\ntheir revenues, fixed by law and sure, with a liberal hand. Now, when\nthey find difficulty in getting even what they cannot be deprived of;\nnow that confiscation hangs over their heads with menacing aspect;\nnow that religious orders are called on to make immense outlays\nto send their young men to places of safety--in one case to the\nextent of six thousand dollars--it would be foolish to expect them\nto sacrifice what is necessary for themselves; though, to do them\njustice, they are always willing to share their little with the poor.\nDearth of foreign ecclesiastics, and of foreigners in general, is\nanother source of distress, and this is directly a consequence of\nthe invasion. The result of all this is that there is more misery in\nthe city of Rome than has been seen for many a day--beggars are more\nnumerous in the streets, and needy families, ashamed to beg, suffer\nin silence or pour their tale of woe into the ear of the clergy, who\nalways are honored with the confidence of the poor and afflicted.\nSurely this state of things is not an improvement on the plenty which\ncharacterized the rule of the pontiffs. We cannot say Rome in this\nrespect has moved into a better sphere--that she has progressed.\n\nSecurity of person and property is another essential object of the\nattention of every state. No state that cannot guarantee this is\ndeserving of the name of having a good government. Under the Papal\nrule, it is well known that not only in Rome did good order prevail,\nas the immense multitude present at the \u0152cumenical Council can\nattest, but that also on the frontiers of the territories governed\nby the Pope, after the withdrawal of the French troops from Veroli\nand Anagni, the energy displayed by the Roman delegate was such as\nto liberate completely the provinces from the bands sprung from the\ncivil strifes of southern Italy. The city of Rome itself was a model\nof good order and of personal safety. Now things are changed. Only\na few days ago, a \"guardia di pubblica sicurezza\" was stopped in\nthe streets and robbed of his watch and _revolver_. There is not a\nday that has not in the daily papers its record of thefts and acts\nof personal violence. Only a few days ago, there was a sacrilegious\nrobbery in the Church of St. Andrea della Valle. On the 8th of\nDecember there was rioting with bloodshed in Rome. A band of young\nstudents under the charge of a religious were stoned on Sunday,\nJanuary 15. On the 16th, the Very Rev. Rector of the \"Ospizio degli\nOrfanelli\" was struck with a stone. It would be easy to multiply\nexamples, but those we have given are quite enough to show that\nprogress in security of person and property has not been attained\nsince the 20th of September, 1870.\n\nThen public morality in the centre of Christianity could not fail\nto be at a far higher standard, now that the regeneration of the\ncity of Rome has been accomplished. What bitter illusions fortune\ndelights in dispensing to those that trust her! Before the entrance\nof Italian statesmen into Rome, vice and immorality did not dare\nraise their heads--they could not flaunt themselves on the public\nways. Now there is a change, and the moral order of Italy has entered\nthrough the breach at the Porta Pia. We say no more, the subject is a\ndelicate one, and we therefore refrain from penning facts notorious\nin Rome. Surely, none who has received even an elementary training\nin virtue will deem this state of things progress--an elevation to a\nhigher and more perfect state.\n\nBut the King of Italy came to Rome to protect the independence of the\nSovereign Pontiff, to save him from the bondage of foreign hordes.\nNow, as the Pope is principally a spiritual sovereign, it is his\nspiritual power that most needs protection; consequently, the King of\nItaly and his faithful servants have been most zealous in preventing\nacts or publications that would tend to diminish the respect due to\nthe Holy Father.\n\nIncomprehensible, but true--the very opposite has taken place! We\nhave at hand the satirical paper, the _Don Pirlone Figlio_, of\nJanuary 19. On its first page is a ridiculous adaptation of the\nheading used by the cardinal vicar in his official notifications to\nthe faithful. The same page has an article grossly disrespectful\nto the Sovereign Pontiff, and insulting to the Belgian deputation,\nwho have just come on to present the protest of their countrymen,\nand their contributions. The Holy Father is styled Giovanni Mastai\ndetto Colui ex-disponibile anche lui; the members of the deputation\nare given ridiculous names; and the contributors of Peter Pence are\nblackbirds caught in a cage; finally, a ridiculous discourse is\nput in the mouth of the Pope, concluding with a benediction. The\nillustration represents Pius IX. with a boot in his hand, in the act\nof giving it to the Emperor of Germany, who figures as a cobbler.\nSuch are the illustrations and articles one sees exposed to the\npublic day by day. When we who have seen Rome under far different\ncircumstances witness these things, is it at all strange that we\nrefuse to see \"the general respect shown to ecclesiastics in the\nexercise of their sacred functions,\" even though on the faith of a\nLamarmora it be asserted to exist? Can we be blamed for thinking that\nanything but progress in veneration of religion has been the result\nof the taking of Rome?\n\nAfter this, any of the advantages arising from the occupation of Rome\ncan have no weight sufficient to warrant much attention--for they\nmust be, as they are, material and of a low order--chiefly regarding\nfacility of communication and despatch in business matters, things\ndesirable in themselves, but, it would seem, purchased at a fearful\nsacrifice.\n\nIs this state of things to continue? Is the Italian kingdom on such\na permanent basis that the Papacy has no hope of a change that may\ngive it back its possessions? Or can the kingdom of Italy be brought\nto make restitution of what it has seized, without itself undergoing\ndestruction? A word in reply to each of these queries. And first, is\nthis state of things to continue?\n\nWhen we consider who the Sovereign Pontiff is, and consult the\nopinions of men famed for their foresight and statesmanship, it\nis difficult to deny that the restoration of the Pontiff to his\nrights is very possible. Napoleon Bonaparte, although he afterwards\nmade Pius VII. his prisoner, left recorded his opinion that it was\nimpossible that the Pope should be the subject of any one sovereign,\nand that it was providential the head of the church had been\ngiven the possession of a small state to secure his independence.\nM. Thiers, in commendation of whom we need say nothing, as his\nreputation is world-wide, has clearly and forcibly proclaimed this\nvery opinion. In the debates on the temporal power in the French\nSenate, in 1867, his voice was heard calling on France to protect\nRome, and it was his energy forced from the hypocritical government\nof his country the famous word, uttered by Rouher, that struck\nterror into Italy--\"_Jamais_.\" One would imagine that now Rome has\nfallen, and France is reduced to the verge of desperation, no man\nof \"liberal\" political views would be foolhardy enough to risk his\nreputation by reiterating an opinion like this. Yet, strange to\nsay, there is one who has been willing to run the risk, and that in\nthe very Chamber of Deputies at Florence. Only a few weeks ago, the\nDeputy Toscanelli, a liberal, and, we learn, a free-thinker, with\na courage, a strength of argument, and flow of wit that gained the\nrespect and attention of the house, almost in the words of M. Thiers\ngave the same opinion. In the days of the last of the Medici, said\nthe distinguished deputy, there was a court-jester riding a spirited\nhorse down the Via Calzaioli, in Florence. The horse got the better\nof his rider, and started off at full speed. \"Ho! Sor Fagioli,\" cried\nout one of the crowd, \"where are you going to fall?\" \"No one knows or\ncan know,\" was the jester's answer, as he held on with both hands.\nJust so is it with the government; it has mounted a policy that is\nrunning away with it, and neither it nor any one else knows where it\nis going to fall. The government has gone to Rome, and in Rome it\ncannot stay; it cannot hold its own face to face with the Pope. \"I\ngive you, then, this advice: leave Rome, declare it a free city under\nthe protection of the kingdom of Italy.\" So much for the opinions of\npolitical men of eminence; we will examine the question for a moment\non its intrinsic merits.\n\nWe know the Sovereign Pontiff in his official capacity of teacher of\nthe whole church is infallible in declarations regarding faith or\nmorals. But in other matters of policy, of fact, he has no guarantee\nagainst error beyond what is afforded him by the use of the means\nwhich he has at hand, the information of his advisers, and especially\nof the Sacred College of Cardinals. Suppose for a moment this\nmeans of information is done away with, or made a vehicle of untrue\nstatements. Suppose unworthy men are artfully intruded on the Pope,\nand act in accordance with instructions received from the rulers of\nItaly. Imagine Italy at war or on bad terms with the United States\nor England. A crafty statesman sees an opportunity of putting in a\nposition to aid him in one or the other country an able man, through\nthe influence of some high ecclesiastic, whose good opinion will\nhave great weight with men of standing or with the people. The whole\nmatter is artfully carried out. There is an understanding between\nthe Italian statesman and his American or English friend; both act\ncautiously and avoid alarming susceptibilities. The affair works\nwell. Persons around the Pope are made to drop a word incidentally in\npraise of the virtue and ability of the one whom it is intended to\nraise to power. The Pope in his relations with the bishops of foreign\ncountries, speaking of the prospects of the church in good faith,\nspeaks also to the ecclesiastic of whom we have made mention, and\nin favorable terms, of the person in question. Who that knows human\nnature can fail to see the thorough nature of the influence thus\nused? The crafty originators are the ones to blame, and the harm done\nis effected in perfect good faith by the unconscious instruments of\ntheir design. To show we are not building on our fancy, we turn to\nthe pages of a man whose name all revere--Cardinal Wiseman. In his\n_Recollections of the Last Four Popes_, he speaks of the character of\nPius VII.:\n\n    \"When no longer a monarch, but a captive--when bereft\n    of all advice and sympathy, but pressed on close by\n    those who, themselves probably deceived, thoroughly\n    deceived him, he committed the one error of his life\n    and pontificate, in 1813. For there came to him men\n    'of the seed of Aaron,' who could not be expected to\n    mislead him, themselves free and moving in the busiest\n    of the world, who showed him, through the loopholes\n    of his prison, that world from which he was shut out,\n    as though agitated on its surface, and to its lowest\n    depths, through his unbendingness; the church torn to\n    schism, and religion weakened to destruction, from what\n    they termed his obstinacy. He who had but prayed and\n    bent his neck to suffering was made to appear in his\n    own eyes a harsh and cruel master, who would rather\n    see all perish than loose his grasp on unrelenting but\n    impotent jurisdiction.\n\n    \"He yielded for a moment of conscientious alarm; he\n    consented, though conditionally, under false but\n    virtuous impressions, to the terms proposed to him for\n    a new concordat. But no sooner had his upright mind\n    discovered the error, than it nobly and successfully\n    repaired it.\" (Chap. IV.)\n\nSuch are the words of a man writing after years of intercourse with\nthe first men of Europe. They are instructive words--for human nature\nis ever the same. There are men still in Italy who follow out closely\nthe principles of Macchiavelli--to whom everything sacred or profane,\nno matter what veneration may have surrounded it, is but the means\nto self-aggrandizement and the satisfaction of ambition. It is for\nthe nations of the world to say whether they are willing to allow the\nexistence of the permanent danger to themselves, arising from the\nsubjection of the spiritual head of the church to any crowned head or\neven republic whatsoever. Perhaps, of the two, the latter would be\nthe more to be dreaded. The Roman mobs that drove Eugenius IV. from\nRome, and pelted him as he went down the Tiber, or made many another\nPope seek safety in flight, could be easily gotten together again, as\nthe present residents of the Eternal City know only too well.\n\nWe answer, then, our first query, and say that this state of things\ncannot last. Time, the great remedy of human ills, will solve this\nquestion, and establish the See of Peter on a perfectly independent\nbasis--independent of all sovereign control, even if this be not done\nshortly through the armed interference of European powers.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to inquire whether the Italian kingdom is so\nfirmly constituted that no hope of restoration of the Pope is to be\nseen. For ourselves, we think there are indications that point to a\nspeedy dissolution of this state on the first breaking out of a war\nbetween Italy and any great power. Her policy is to avoid entangling\nalliances, and this she is following out, striving to propitiate the\nEmperor of Germany for her leaning towards France. The first army\nthat will enter the peninsula to aid the Pope will shiver Italy to\nfragments. The southern provinces have too lively a recollection of\nthe days of plenty under their kings, and too painful an impression\nof heavy taxation and proconsular domination of the Piedmontese race,\nto hesitate between submission to them and the regaining their own\nautonomy, which will make Naples again one of the queenly capitals of\nthe world.\n\nOne index of the general discontent or indifference is the small\nnumber of those who vote at the elections in proportion to those\nwho are inscribed on the electoral lists. The motto proposed by the\n_Unit\u00e0 Cattolica_, the foremost Catholic journal of Italy--\"_Neither\nelected nor electors_\"--has been adopted and acted upon by very many\nthroughout the country. We feel no difficulty in saying that the\nmajority of the Italians are not with the House of Savoy, nor are\nthey in favor of United Italy. The ruling power has the government\nand the command of the army, a fact that quite accounts for the\nexisting state of things.\n\nOur third question, whether the kingdom of Italy can be brought to\nmake restitution of the territories it has seized, without itself\nundergoing destruction, remains to be answered. We believe it cannot,\nunless half-measures--always more or less dangerous--be adopted. The\nlate spoliation is not more criminal than the first, and no amount of\n_pl\u00e9biscite_ can make it legitimate, no more than--to use the words\nof the able editor of the _Unit\u00e0 Cattolica_--the popular approbation\nof the condemnation of Jesus Christ legitimized the crucifixion.\nThe claim, then, to restitution extends to the whole of the former\nprovinces, justly held by the Popes to supply them with the revenue\nneeded to make them independent of the precarious contributions of\nthe Peter Pence, and which was none too large for that purpose.\n\nWhatever may come, we know the future of the church is in the hands\nof One in whose holding are the hearts of princes and peoples. What\nwe have to do is to pray earnestly for our spiritual head, aid him\nby our means, console him with our sympathy, and give him whatever\nsupport, moral or other, it be in our power to offer. And while we\ndo so, it is a joy to us to know we have lessened the grief of his\nhardships by what we have done hitherto, even gladdened the hours of\nhis captivity. A few days ago, speaking to the Belgian deputation,\nPius IX. said: \"Belgium gives me very often proofs of her fidelity.\nContinue in the way in which you are walking; do not allow your\ncourage to fail. What is happening to-day is only a trial, and the\nchurch came into existence in the midst of trials, lived always\namid them, and amid them she will end her earthly career. It is our\nduty to battle and stand firm in the face of danger.... We have an\nItalian proverb which says: It is one thing to talk of dying; quite\nanother to die. People speak very resignedly of persecutions, but\nsometimes it is hard to bear them. The world offers to-day a very\nsad spectacle, and particularly this our city of Rome, in which we\nsee things to which our eyes have not been accustomed. Let us all\npray together that God may soon deliver his church, and re-establish\npublic order, so deeply shaken. Your efforts, your prayers, your\npious pilgrimages, all tend to this end, and I therefore bless them\nwith all my heart.\" May the words of the Holy Father find an echo\nin our hearts; let us not lose courage, but keep up our efforts, so\nhappily begun, and never rest till wrong be righted, until we see the\nmost sublime dignity and power on earth freed from the surroundings\nthat would seek to make it as little as themselves.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    MECHANISM IN THOUGHT AND MORALS. An Address\n    delivered before the Phi Beta Kappa Society of\n    Harvard University, June 29, 1870. With Notes and\n    Afterthoughts. By Oliver Wendell Holmes. Boston: James\n    R. Osgood & Co. 1871.\n\nDr. Holmes is a Benvenuto Cellini in literature, and everything he\nproduces is of precious metal, skilfully enchased, and adorned with\ngems of art. The present address is no exception to the general\nrule, but rather an unusually good illustration of it. It is a\nremarkably curious piece of work, containing many interesting facts\nand speculations derived from the author's scientific studies on the\nmechanism of the brain. There is nothing in it positively affirmed\nwhich is necessarily materialistic, as far as we can see; rather, we\nshould say that its doctrine stands on one side of both materialism\nand spiritualism, and can be reconciled with either. It can be\nexplained, if we have understood it correctly, in conformity with\nthe Aristotelian and scholastic philosophy, in such a way as not\nto prejudice the truth of the distinct and spiritual nature of the\nsoul. The author, indeed, appears more inclined to that belief than\nthe opposite, although we are sorry to find him expressing himself\nin so hesitating and dubious a manner. When he passes from thought\nto morals, he gets out of his element, and displays a flippancy and\nlevity which may pass very well in humorous poetry, but are out of\nplace in treating of graver topics. His remarks on some points of\nCatholic doctrine are so completely at fault as to show his entire\nincompetency to meddle with the subject at all. His language in\nregard to the Council of the Vatican and Pius IX. is more like that\nof a pert and vulgar student of Calvinistic divinity than that of\nan elegant and refined Cambridge professor. \"But political freedom\ninevitably generates a new type of religious character, as _the\nconclave that contemplates endowing a dotard with infallibility_\nhas found out, we trust, before this time\" (p. 95). Dr. Holmes has\napparently profited by his close observations among that class of\nthe female population of Boston who are wont to thrust their bodies\nhalf out of their windows, and \"exhaust the vocabulary, to each\nother's detriment.\" We congratulate him, and the learned Society of\nPhi Beta Kappa, on the choice sentence we have quoted above. We trust\nthose Catholics who are disposed to think that we can make use of\nHarvard University as a place of education for our youth, will take\nnote of this sample of the language they may expect to hear in that\nand similar institutions, and open their eyes to the necessity of\nproviding some better instruction for their sons than can be had at\nsuch sources. Notwithstanding our high appreciation of Dr. Holmes's\ngenius, and the great pleasure we have derived from his works, we\nregret to say that we must consider his influence on young people\ngrievously detrimental. In virtue of a reaction from Calvinism, he\nhas swung into an extreme of rationalism the effect of which is\nchecked in his own person by the influence of an unusually good heart\nand an early religious education, but in itself is sure to overthrow\nall reverence, faith, and moral principle. The whole effect of this\naddress on the minds of young men tends to a most pernicious result,\nand encourages them, with a kind of thoughtless gaiety, to rush\nforward in a career of mental and moral lawlessness.\n\n\n    JESUS AND JERUSALEM; OR, THE WAY HOME. Books for\n    Spiritual Reading. First Series. Boston: Patrick\n    Donahoe. 1871.\n\nHere we have a plain, practical, but very attractively and charmingly\nwritten book of spiritual reading for everybody. It emanates from\nthe Convent of Poor Clares, Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland, who\nare anything but poor in intellectual gifts and religious zeal. We\nsuppose it is from the pen of the gifted authoress of the _History\nof Ireland_ and several other works of the highest literary merit.\nThe idea of the volume is apparently taken from the \"Parable of a\nPilgrim\" in F. Baker's _Sancta Sophia_, of which it is a minute\nparaphrase and commentary. Its minuteness, diffuseness, and fluency\nof style are, in our opinion, great merits, considering the end and\nobject of the book. It is easy reading, explains and enlarges on each\ntopic at length and in detail with great tact and discretion, and is\neminently fitted to help a person in the acquisition and practice of\nthe homely, everyday Christian virtues. Its bread is of fine quality,\nbroken up fine. It is eminently adapted for the young and simple,\ntimid beginners, and persons living an everyday busy life, and also\nfor the sick, the suffering, and the afflicted. At the same time,\na professor of theology, or even a bishop, may read it with great\nprofit and satisfaction. We recommend this book with more than usual\nearnestness, and we trust the good Sisters of Kenmare will keep on\nwith their series, which must certainly produce an extraordinary\namount of good.\n\n\n    ELIA; OR, SPAIN FIFTY YEARS AGO. Translated from\n    the Spanish of Fernan Caballero. New York: Catholic\n    Publication Society.\n\nFernan Caballero is the _nom de plume_ of Madame de Baer, who is now\nan aged lady, though still in the full possession of her intellectual\npowers. We admire the old Spanish character, customs, faith, and\nchivalry. Mme. de Baer is their champion, and the enemy of the\nrevolution which has desolated that grand old Catholic country. This\nis one of her stories written to that point, and we trust it will\nfind even here many a reader who will sympathize with the author,\nand help to neutralize the poison, too widely spread, of modern\nliberalism--the deadly epidemic of Spain and all Europe. It is a\nvery suitable book for school premiums, and ought to be in every\nlibrary. Other persons, also, will find it a lively and entertaining\nbook, with a strong dash of the peculiar quaintness usually found in\nSpanish stories.\n\n\n    ROMAN IMPERIALISM, AND OTHER LECTURES AND ESSAYS. By\n    J. R. Seelye, M.D., Professor of Modern History in\n    the University of Cambridge. (Author of \"Ecce Homo.\")\n    Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1871.\n\nThese essays are cleverly and agreeably written. Their topics are\nvery miscellaneous, but all of them important and interesting. Those\non \"Liberal Education in Universities,\" \"English in Schools,\" \"The\nChurch as a Teacher of Morality,\" and the \"Teaching of Politics,\" are\nespecially worthy of attention. Some of the writers of the \"Broad\nChurch,\" to which Prof. Seelye belongs, are quite remarkable for\ntheir honorable candor, largeness of mind, originality of thought,\nand, in certain respects, approximation to Catholic views. We like to\nread them better than most other Protestant writers, and often find\ntheir writings instructive. We have seldom seen a book written by a\nProtestant in which a Catholic can find so many things to approve of\nand be pleased with, and so few in which he is obliged to differ from\nthe author, as the present volume.\n\n\n    LIFE AND SELECT WRITINGS OF THE VEN. LOUIS MARIE\n    GRIGNON DE MONTFORT. Translated from the French by a\n    Secular Priest. London: Richardson. 1870.\n\nThe Ven. Grignon de Montfort was a priest of noble birth, who lived\nand labored in France as a missionary, and became the founder of two\nreligious congregations, during the eighteenth century. He was a\nperson of great individuality of character and many peculiar gifts\nand traits, which made his life quite a salient one, if we may be\nallowed the expression. His talents for poetry, music, and the arts\nof design, and a marked poetic fervor in his temperament, gave a\ncertain zest and raciness to his career as a missionary, and were a\ngreat help to his success. His character was chivalrous and daring,\nand his sanctity shows a kind of exaltation, a sort of gay mockery\nof danger, contempt, privation, and suffering, which it almost takes\none's breath away to contemplate. His life was very short, but his\nlabors, persecutions, and services were very great. He is best\nknown in modern times by his extraordinary devotion to the Blessed\nVirgin. It is altogether probable that ere long the process of his\ncanonization will be completed, and a decree of the Vicar of Christ\nenroll his name among the saints. Those who are capable of profiting\nby an example, and by writings of such sublime spirituality, will\nfind something in this book seldom to be met with even in the Lives\nof Saints.\n\n\n    A TEXT-BOOK OF ELEMENTARY CHEMISTRY, THEORETICAL AND\n    INORGANIC. By George F. Barker, M.D., Professor of\n    Physiological Chemistry in Yale College, New Haven,\n    Conn. Charles C. Chatfield & Co. 1870.\n\nChemical science, as Prof. Barker remarks in his preface, has indeed\nundergone a remarkable revolution in the last few years; and the\ntext-books which were excellent not long ago are now almost useless,\nas far as the theoretical part of the subject is concerned. And\nthough, in all probability, more brilliant discoveries as to the\ninternal constitution of matter, the formation of molecules, and the\nnature of the chemical adhesion of atoms are in store than any yet\nmade, still the conclusions recently attained on these points maybe\nconsidered as well established, and can by no means be considered\nas crude speculations, to be overthrown to-morrow by others of no\ngreater weight. Chemistry seems, at present, to promise better than\never before to solve the problem of the arrangement of the ultimate\nmaterial elements, though, perhaps, the laws of the forces which\nconnect them, and the nature of the molecular movements, will be\nrather obtained from other sources.\n\nProf. Barker's book is an admirable exponent of the science in its\npresent state. The first quarter of it is devoted to an explanation\nof the principles of theoretical chemistry, and it is this, of\ncourse, which is specially interesting and important at present,\nthough the remainder will be found much easier reading. The work is\none, however, which is meant to be studied, rather than merely read,\ncontaining a great deal of information, and giving much material for\nmental exercise throughout. It would not have been easy to put more\nvaluable matter in its few pages, and its merits as a text-book are\nvery great. The type is very clear, and the illustrations numerous\nand excellent.\n\n\n    VARIETIES OF IRISH HISTORY. By James J. Gaskin. Dublin:\n    W. B. Kelly. New York: The Catholic Publication\n    Society, 9 Warren Street. 1871.\n\nIf Mr. Gaskin had not stated in his preface that \"the present work\nis, in great part, based on a lecture delivered by the author before\na highly influential, intelligent, and fashionable audience,\" we\nwould have anticipated, from the title of his book, something not\nonly interesting but instructive relating to Irish history. But\nknowing very well what pleases a highly fashionable audience in the\ndwarfed and provincialized capital of Ireland, this announcement\nwas enough to satisfy us that his conception of what makes history\nwas neither very lucid nor comprehensive. It is unnecessary to say\nthat, within the shadow of Dublin Castle, any rash man who would\nbe unthinking enough to write or speak seriously about the history\nof Ireland--that protracted tragedy upon which the curtain has not\nyet fallen--would soon be voted a bore, or something worse, by\nthe fashionable people who are privileged once or twice a year to\nkiss the hand of the representative of royalty. But the author is\nevidently too well bred to commit such a solecism, and accordingly,\nunder a very attractive exterior, he treats us to all sorts of\ngossip, from the doings of _Gra na' Uile_, a sort of western Viqueen,\nto the murder of Captain Glas, a Scotch privateersman. The intervals\nbetween these two great historical events is filled up with the mock\nregal ceremonies that used to be observed annually on the island\nof Dalkey; reminiscences of Swift, Dr. Delaney, Curran, and other\ndistinguished men of the last century, which, though not new, are\npleasant to read; and some correct and elaborate descriptions of\nscenery in the suburbs of Dublin, which will not be without interest\nto those who have visited that part of Ireland. The _Varieties_ is\nnot a book which will find much favor with historical students, but\nfor railroad and steamboat travellers, who wish to read as they\nrun, and as a book for the drawing-room, being light in style and\nhandsomely illustrated, it will be found entertaining and agreeable.\n\n\n    A HAND-BOOK OF LEGENDARY AND MYTHOLOGICAL ART. By Clara\n    Erskine Clement. With Descriptive Illustrations. New\n    York: Hurd & Houghton.\n\nThe best thing we can say about this book is that it affords another\nstriking proof that the Catholic Church is the genius of all true\npoetry and art. One-half of the volume is devoted to sketches of\nthe lives of Catholic saints, the other half being equally divided\nbetween legends of German localities and the gods and goddesses of\nGreece and Rome. We look in vain for some notice of works of art or\npoetic legend to which Protestantism, with its heroes, or modern\nRationalism, with no heroes, has given inspiration. The authoress,\nhowever, is not a Catholic, for she calls us \"Romanists,\" a vulgar\nterm, the use of which, she ought to know, we consider as impertinent\nand insulting.\n\nFalse legends and true biographies of our saints are strung together\nwithout discrimination. This we would not complain of so much, if, as\nshe would seem to imply, they are both illustrated by art; but the\ninstances in which these apocryphal and unworthy stories have been\nchosen by the painter or sculptor as fitting subjects are exceedingly\nrare, and where they are, as in the case of Durer's painting of \"St.\nJohn Chrysostom's Penance,\" which is reproduced by the authoress\n(shall we say with her in the preface, \"to interest and instruct her\nchildren\"?), they bear evidence of an art degraded in inspiration\nand debased in morals.\n\n\n    SARSFIELD; OR, THE LAST GREAT STRUGGLE FOR IRELAND. By\n    D. P. Conyngham. Boston: Patrick Donahoe.\n\nThis short historical novel has been written for two purposes--to\ndisprove the correctness of the saying, attributed to Voltaire,\nthat the Irish always fought badly at home, and to illustrate, in a\npopular manner, the struggle between James II. and his son-in-law,\nthe Prince of Orange. With due respect to the author, we submit that\ntoo much importance has already been attached to Voltaire's _ipse\ndixit_ with regard to the fighting qualities of the Irish. It is of\nlittle importance, indeed, what that gifted infidel has said about\nanything or anybody, as it is pretty well understood in our day that\namong his numerous failings veracity was not very conspicuous. Mr.\nConyngham has, however, succeeded very creditably in accomplishing\nhis main object, and presents us with a succinct and truthful view of\nthe rival forces which, for three years, contested for the English\ncrown on the soil of Ireland. There is very little plot in the story,\nthe principal interest centring in the acts of Sarsfield and other\nwell-known historical personages; but the narrative of the war is\nwell sustained, and the author's conception of the inner life of his\nprincipal characters is in the main correct and natural.\n\n\n    ARTHUR BROWN. By Rev. Elijah Kellogg. Boston: Lee &\n    Shepard.\n\nThis is one of that class of books for boys full of hair-breadth\nescapes and improbable incidents. It is the first of _The Pleasant\nCove Series_, which means five more just like this. The fact that the\ncharacters have been introduced in a former \"series,\" and are to be\ncarried forward through the coming five volumes, renders the story a\nlittle obscure at times. This, however, will not prevent boys who\nenjoy tales of perilous sea voyages and marvellous encounters from\nfinding this volume interesting and amusing.\n\n\n    PRAYERS AND CEREMONIES OF THE MASS; or, Moral,\n    Doctrinal, and Liturgical Explanations of the Prayers\n    and Ceremonies of the Mass. By Very Rev. John T.\n    Sullivan, V.G. Diocese of Wheeling, W. Va. New York: D.\n    & J. Sadlier & Co. 12mo. 1870.\n\nThe subject and nature of this little book are sufficiently expressed\nin its title. The position of the Very Reverend author, and\napprobations by the Archbishop of New York and the Right Reverend\nBishop of Wheeling, testify to its sound doctrine and usefulness as a\nbook of instruction.\n\n\n    LITTLE PUSSY WILLOW. By Harriet Beecher Stowe. Boston:\n    Fields, Osgood & Co.\n\n_Pussy Willow_ is a charming girl and a charming woman, but we think\nthat it is not often that nature accomplishes so much even with\nthe aid of country air and simple, healthful habits and pleasures.\nHowever, we must not forget the fairy's gift, of always looking at\nthe bright side of things. Pity we had not more of us this gift! But\nthe girls must read for themselves.\n\n\n    FOLIA ECCLESIASTICA, ad notandum Missas persolvendas\n    et persolutas, pro clero ordinata et disposita.\n    Neo-Eboraci et Cincinnatii: sumptibus et typis\n    Friderici Pustet.\n\nThis little memorandum book will be found quite useful for the\npurpose designed. Besides the pages appropriated to the record of\nMasses, there are also \"Indices Neo-Communicantium, Confirmandorum,\nConfraternitatum,\" etc., etc.\n\n\n    SYNCHRONOLOGY OF THE PRINCIPAL EVENTS IN SACRED AND\n    PROFANE HISTORY, FROM THE CREATION OF MAN TO THE\n    PRESENT TIME. Third edition. Revised. Boston: Lee &\n    Shepard. New York: Lee, Shepard & Dillingham. 1 vol.\n    8vo.\n\nBefore its republication, this work should have been placed in the\nhands of a competent editor. As it is now, it is very objectionable,\nand loses all its value. Here is one quotation, taken at random.\nUnder the year 1362, we read: \"Pope Urban V. at Avignon; beautifies\nthe city of Rome; presents the _right arm_ of Thomas Aquinas to\nCharles V. of France as an _object of worship_.\"\n\n\n    POEMS. By Bret Harte. Boston: Fields, Osgood & Co. 1871.\n\nWe have read this unpretending little volume with much interest.\nThe author is a true poet, and has the merit of originality quite\nas much as of descriptive power. His more serious poems display a\nhigh appreciation of the beautiful and the romantic, and there is a\nCatholic tone about them. Those in dialect, with the other humorous\npieces, are equally pleasing in their way. The former, particularly,\nreflect a side of life which is generally supposed the least poetical\nof all. Mr. Bret Harte has \"gathered honey from the weed.\"\n\n\nCORRIGENDUM.--In the article \"Which is the School of Religious\nFraudulence,\" in our last number, p. 791, col. 2, near the middle,\nthe sentence beginning, \"It is no mark of falsity, therefore, in any\ndocument,\" should be thus concluded: \"that it occurs there, unless it\noccurs there alone and nowhere else.\"\n\n\nBOOKS RECEIVED.\n\n    From JNO. MURPHY & CO., Baltimore: A Circular Letter\n    on the Temporal Power of the Popes; addressed to the\n    clergy and laity of the Vicariate Apostolic of North\n    Carolina. By the Right Rev. James Gibbons, D.D.\n\n    From the YOUNG CRUSADER Office, Boston: Protests of\n    the Pope and People against the Usurpation of the\n    Sovereignty of Rome by the Piedmontese Government.\n\n    From P. J. KENEDY. New York: The Life of St. Mary of\n    Egypt. To which is added the Life of St. Cecilia and\n    the Life of St. Bridget.\n\n    From PETER F. CUNNINGHAM, Philadelphia: The Acts of the\n    Early Martyrs. By J. H. M. Fastr\u00e9, S.J.\n\n    From LEYPOLDT & HOLT, New York: Across America and\n    Asia. By Raphael Pumpelly. Fifth edition. Revised.--Art\n    in the Netherlands. By H. Taine. Translated by J.\n    Durand.\n\n    From PATRICK DONAHOE, Boston: The \"Our Father.\" Being\n    illustrations of the several petitions of the Lord's\n    Prayer. Translated from the German of the Rev. Dr. J.\n    Emanuel Veith, by the Rev. Edward Cox, D.D.\n\n    From ROBERTS BROTHERS, Boston: Ad Clerum: Advice to a\n    Young Preacher. By Joseph Parker, D.D.\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 74.--MAY, 1871.[21]\n\n\nTHE CHURCH ACCREDITS HERSELF[22]\n\n\nArchbishop Manning's pastoral letter to his clergy on the first\ncouncil, _The Vatican and its Definitions_, to which are appended\nthe two constitutions the council adopted--the one the _Constitutio\nde Fide Catholica_, and the other the _Constitutio Dogmatica Prima\nde Ecclesia_--the case of Honorius, and the Letter of the German\nbishops on the council, though containing little that is new to our\nreaders, is a volume which is highly valuable in itself, and most\nconvenient to every Catholic who would know the real character of the\ncouncil and what is the purport of its definitions. Few members of\nthe council were more assiduous in their attendance on its sessions\nor took a more active part in its deliberations than the illustrious\nArchbishop of Westminster, and no one can give a more trustworthy\naccount of its dispositions or of its acts. We are glad, therefore,\nthat the volume has been republished in this country, and hope it\nwill be widely read both by Catholics and non-Catholics.\n\nThe character of the book and of the documents it contains renders\nany attempt by us either to review it or to explain it alike\nunnecessary and impertinent. The pastoral is addressed officially\nby the Archbishop to his clergy; the constitutions or definitions\nadopted by the Holy Synod declare, by the assistance of the Holy\nGhost, what is, and always has been, and always will be the Catholic\nfaith on the matters defined; and we need not say that we cordially\naccept it as the word of God, and as the faith which all must accept\n_ex animo_, and without which it is impossible to please God. What\nthe council has defined is the law of God, and binds us as if spoken\nto us directly by God himself in a voice from heaven. He speaks to\nus by his church, his organ, and her voice is in fact his voice,\nand what we take on her authority we take on his authority, for he\nassists her, vouches for her, and commands us to believe and obey her.\n\nThere are, indeed, enemies of the faith who pretend that Catholics\nbelieve solely on the authority of the church as an organic body;\nbut this is a misapprehension. We believe what is revealed on the\nveracity of God alone, because it is his word, and it is impossible\nfor his word to be false; and we believe that it is his word on\nthe authority or testimony of the church, with whom the word is\ndeposited, and who is its divinely commissioned keeper, guardian,\nwitness, and interpreter. The word of God is and must be true, and\nthere is and can be no higher ground of faith or even of knowledge\nthan the fact that God says it. Nothing can be more consonant to\nreason than to believe God on his word. Certainly, it is answered,\nif we have his word; but how do I know that what is proposed to me\nas his word is his word? We take the fact that it is his word on the\nauthority of the Catholic Church; we believe it is his word because\nshe declares it to be his word. It is permitted no one to doubt the\nword of God is conceded; but whence from that fact does it follow\nthat I am not permitted to doubt the word of the church? Or why\nshould I believe her testimony or her declaration rather than that of\nany one else?\n\nTo this question the general answer is, that she has been divinely\ninstituted, and is protected and assisted to bear true witness to\nthe revelation which it has pleased God to make, to proclaim it,\ndeclare its sense, and condemn whatever impugns or tends to obscure\nit. Supposing she has been instituted and commissioned by our\nLord himself, for this very purpose, her authority is sufficient\nfor believing whatever she teaches and declares or defines to be\nthe word of God is his word or the truth he has revealed; for the\ndivine commission is the divine word pledged for her veracity\nand infallibility. This is plain enough and indubitable; but how\nam I to know or to be assured that she has been so instituted or\ncommissioned, and is so assisted?\n\nThere are several answers to this question; but we would remark,\nbefore proceeding to give any answer, that the church is in\npossession, has from the moment of the descent of the Holy Ghost upon\nthe apostles on the day of Pentecost claimed to be in possession of\nthe authority in question, and has had her claim acknowledged by the\nwhole body of the faithful, and denied by none except those who deny\nor impugn authority itself. Being in possession, it is for those who\nquestion her right to show that she is wrongfully in possession. They\nare, to use a legal term, the plaintiffs in action, and must make out\ntheir case. Every one is presumed in law to be innocent till proven\nguilty. The church must be presumed to be rightfully in possession\ntill the contrary is shown. They who question her possession must,\nthen, adduce at least _prima facie_ evidence for ousting her before\nshe can be called upon to produce her title-deeds. This has never\nbeen done, and never can be done; for, if it could be done, some of\nour able and learned Protestant divines would, in the course of the\nlast three hundred years and over, have done it. There is, then, in\nreality no need, in order to justify the faith of Catholics, to prove\nby extrinsic testimony the divine institution and commission of the\nchurch to teach all men and nations all things whatsoever God has\nrevealed and commanded to be believed.\n\nBut we have no disposition to avail ourselves just now of what some\nmay regard as a mere legal technicality. We answer the question by\nsaying the church is herself the witness in the case, and accredits\nherself, or her existence itself proves her divine institution,\ncommission, and assistance or guidance.\n\nThe church was founded by our Lord on the prophets and apostles,\nbeing himself the chief corner-stone. This is asserted here as\na simple historical fact. Historically, the church has existed,\nwithout any break or defect of continuity, from the apostles down\nto our times. Its unbroken existence from that time to this cannot\nbe questioned. It has been a fact during all that period in the\nworld's history, and too momentous a fact to escape observation.\nIndeed, it has been the one great fact of history for over eighteen\nhundred years; the central fact around which all the facts of history\nhave revolved, and without which they would be inexplicable and\nmeaningless. This assumed or granted, it must be conceded that she\nunites as one continuous fact, in one body, the apostles and the\nbelievers of to-day. She is a continuous fact; a present fact during\nall the period of time that has elapsed between the apostles and us,\nand therefore is alike present to them and to us. Her existence being\nunbroken, she has never fallen into the past; never been a past fact;\nbut has always been and is a present fact; and therefore as present\nwith the apostles to-day as she was on the day of Pentecost, when\nthey received the Holy Ghost; and therefore presents us not simply\nwhat they taught, but what they teach her now and here. She bridges\nover the abyss of time between our Lord himself and us, and makes\nus and the apostles, so to speak, contemporaries; so that, as it\nis our Lord himself we hear in the apostles, so it is the apostles\nthemselves that we hear in her.\n\nThis continuity or unity of the church in time is a simple\nhistorical fact, and as certain as any other historical fact, and\neven more so, for it is a fact that has never fallen into the past,\nand to be established only by trustworthy witnesses or documents. By\nit the church to-day is and must be as apostolic and as authoritative\nas in the days of the apostles Peter, James, and John. Individuals\ndie, but the church dies not; individuals are changed, as are the\nparticles of our bodies, but the church changes not. As in the human\nrace individuals pass off, but the race remains always the same;\nso in the church individuals pass away, but the church remains\nunchanged in all its integrity; for the individuals die not all at\nonce, and the new individuals born in their places are born into\nthe one identical body, that does not die, but remains ever the\nsame. No matter, then, how many generations succeed one another in\ntheir birth and death, the body of the church is subject to no law\nof succession, and remains not only one and the same church, but\nalways the one and the same present church. The church of to-day\nis identically the church of yesterday, the church of yesterday is\nidentically the church of the day before, and thus step by step back\nto the apostles; on the other hand, the church in the time of the\napostles is identically the church of their successors down through\nall succeeding generations of individuals to us. There has never been\nan interval of time when it was not, or when it lost its identity as\none and the same body. The church is precisely as apostolic now as it\nwas in the beginning, or as were the apostles themselves.\n\nNow, if we suppose our Lord communicated the whole revelation to\nthe apostles either by his personal teaching or by the inspiration\nof the Holy Ghost, then he communicated it to her, and she is an\neye and ear witness to the fact of revelation in the same sense\nthat the apostles were, and her historical identity with the\napostles makes her a perpetual and contemporary witness to the fact\nof revelation and to what is revealed. What misleads not a few on\nthis point is that they regard the church as a mere aggregation of\nindividuals, born and dying with them, or succeeding to herself with\nthe succession of each new generation of individuals. But this is no\nmore the case with the church than with the human race itself, or\nwith any particular nation that has an historical existence through\nseveral generations. In all historical bodies the generations overlap\none another, and no generation of individuals is either aggregated\nto the body or segregated from it all at once. The body does not die\nwith the receding nor is it born anew with the acceding generation.\nThe church, indeed, is an organism, not a mere aggregation of\nindividuals, but even if it were the conclusion would not follow; for\nthough the individuals are successively aggregated or affiliated,\nthey are aggregated or affiliated to her as a persistent body, and\nthough they pass off successively, they leave the body standing, one\nand identical. This is the simple historical fact. The church, as\nan ever-present body, remains one and the same identical body amid\nall the successive changes of individuals, and is just as much the\ndepositary of the revelation and an eye-witness of the facts recorded\nin the Gospels, as were the apostles themselves.\n\nWe say, then, the church is herself the witness, and a competent\nand credible witness, to her own divine commission to teach and\ndeclare the word of God which he has revealed, and no better, no more\ncompetent or credible witness is needed or, in fact, conceivable.\nShe is competent because she is the identical apostolical body, the\ncontemporary and the eye-witness through the successive ages of the\nfacts to which she testifies. She is a credible witness, because even\nas a human body it would be hardly possible for her either to mistake\nor to misrepresent the facts to which she testifies, since they are\nalways present before her eyes, since, however her individual members\nmay change, she herself knows no change with lapse of time, and no\nsuccession. She could not forget the faith, change it, or corrupt it,\nbecause there is at all times in her communion an innumerable body\nof living witnesses to its unity, purity, and integrity, who would\ndetect the change or alteration and expose it. It is not with her as\nit would be with a book having a limited circulation. Copies of the\nbook could easily be altered or interpolated without detection; but\nthe living testimony of the church, spread over the whole world and\nteaching all nations, cannot be interpolated or corrupted. It is on\nthe fidelity of the church, her vigilant guardianship, and uniform\ntestimony that we depend for our confidence in the genuineness and\nauthenticity of our copies of the sacred writings, and it is worthy\nof note that in proportion as men throw off the authority of the\nchurch, and reject her traditions, they lose that confidence, and\nfail to agree among themselves what books, if any, are inspired;\nso that without the testimony of the church the Holy Scriptures\nthemselves cease to be an authority in matters of faith.\n\nIn human tribunals the supreme court is presumed to know the law\nwhich constitutes it, and it defines its own jurisdiction and powers.\nIt declares the law of which it is the depositary and guardian,\nand though the judges have only their human wisdom, learning, and\nsagacity, it is remarkable how few mistakes through a long series of\nages they commit as to what is or is not the law they are appointed\nto administer, and nearly all the mistakes they do commit are due to\nthe changes the legislature makes in the law or in the constitution\nof the court. Why should the church be less competent to judge of the\nlaw under which she is constituted, and to define her jurisdiction\nand powers? And since her constitution, as well as the law she\nadministers, changes not, why should she be less exempt, even as a\nhuman court, from mistakes in interpreting and declaring the law,\nthan the supreme court of England or the United States? What higher\nauthority can there be to judge of her own constitution and the law\ngiven her to administer than the church herself?\n\nThe church received her constitution in the commission given to the\napostolic body with whom she is one and identical, and the law or\nrevealed word in the reception of it by the apostles. Being one and\nidentical body with them, she has received what they received, and\nknows what they knew, is taught what they were taught, understands\nit in the same sense that they did, and has the same authority to\ninterpret and declare it that they had. If they were commissioned\nto teach all nations to observe all things whatsoever our Lord\ncommanded them, she is commissioned in their commission to do the\nsame. If he promised them his efficacious presence and assistance\nto the consummation of the world, he made the promise to her; if he\nmade Peter the prince of the apostles, the father and teacher of all\nChristians, and gave him plenary authority to feed, rule, and govern\nthe universal church, he made the successor of Peter the visible\nhead of the church, and gave him the same authority. The church,\nbeing the apostolic body persisting through all times, knows what the\napostles received, knows therefore both her own constitution and the\nlaw deposited with her, and is as competent to judge of them as the\napostles were, and has full authority to interpret and declare both,\nand it is to her, as to the supreme court of a nation, to judge what\nthey are, and to define her constitution, jurisdiction, and powers.\n\nThe objection which many make to this conclusion arises from their\nconfounding the authority of the church to interpret and define the\nlaw--and, as a part of the law, her own constitution, jurisdiction,\nand powers or functions--with the authority to make the law: a\nmistake like that of confounding the supreme court of the United\nStates with Congress. The church, like the court or the supreme\nexecutive, may make her own rules and orders--what are called the\norders and rules of court, for the purpose of carrying out the intent\nof the law--but she no more makes the law than does the civil court\nmake the law under which it is constituted, and which it administers.\nGod alone is the lawgiver or lawmaker, and his revealed word is the\nlaw--the law for the human reason and will, and which binds all men\nin thought, word, and deed. We want no church, as the supreme judge\nof the law, to tell us this, for it is a dictamen of reason itself.\nIt is the revealed word of God, which again is only his will, the\nwill of the supreme Lawgiver--that is the law under which the church\nis constituted, and which she guards, interprets, and declares,\nwhenever a question of law arises. She does not make the law; she\nkeeps, interprets, declares, and defends or vindicates it. Even with\nonly human wisdom, she can no more make the law, or declare that to\nbe law which is not, than the supreme civil court can declare that to\nbe civil law which is not civil law. The objection, therefore, is not\nwell taken.\n\nThe law, it is agreed on all hands--that is, the revelation, whether\nwritten or unwritten--was deposited with the apostles, then it was\ndeposited, as we have seen, with the church identical with the\napostolic body. Now, she knows, as the apostles knew, what she\nreceived, the law committed to her charge, and, as she is constituted\nby the law she has received, she knows, and cannot but know, her\nown constitution and powers, also what promises, if any, she has\nreceived from her divine Lawgiver and Founder. The promises of God\ncannot fail; and if he has promised her his assistance as an immunity\nfrom error she knows it, and knows that her judgments of law, or\nin matters of faith, are through that assistance infallible. Of\nall these questions she is the divinely constituted judge. She is\nthe judge of the law constituting her, of her own appointment and\ncommission, and of her rights, powers, and jurisdiction, no less\nthan of the law or revelation committed to her charge, for all this\nis included in the law. If she defines that in her commission is\nincluded the promise of the divine assistance to protect her from\nerror in interpreting and declaring the law--that is, the faith,\nthe revealed word of God--then of all this she judges infallibly,\nand she is the infallible authority, not for believing what God has\nrevealed--for that is believed on the veracity of God alone--but\nfor believing that what she teaches as his revealed word is his\nrevealed word, and therefore the law we are to obey in thought,\nword, deed, as the supreme court is the authority for defining its\nown constitution and powers, and what is or is not the law of the\nstate. Say we not, then, truly that the church is her own witness and\naccredits herself? Say we not truly, also, that she is the faithful\nand infallible witness to the fact of revelation, and teacher and\njudge of what God has or has not revealed? The fact, then, that\nthe church defines that she is the divinely appointed guardian and\ninfallible teacher and judge of revelation, is all we need to know in\norder to know that it is God we believe in believing her.\n\nNone of the sects can apply this argument to themselves; for no one\nof them can pretend to be the identical apostolical body, or to span\nthe distance of time from the apostles to us, so as to be at once\ntheir contemporary and ours. They all have either originated too\nlate or have died too soon for that. Not one of them can pretend to\nhave originated in the apostolic communion, and to have existed as\none continuous body down to us. There were sectaries in the lifetime\nof the apostles, but they were not in the apostolic communion, but\nseparated from it; and there is, as far as we know, no sect in\nexistence that originated in apostolic times. Some of the Gnostic\nsects sprang up at a very early day, but they have all disappeared,\nthough many of their errors are revived in our day. The Nestorian and\nJacobite sects still subsist in the East, but they were born too late\nto be of apostolic origin, and our modern Unitarians are not the old\nArians continued in one unbroken body. The Lutheran and Calvinistic\nsects are of yesterday, and they and their numerous offshoots are\nout of the question. The poor Anglicans talk of apostolic succession\nindeed, but they separated or were cut off from the apostolic body\nin the sixteenth century, and, with all the pretensions of a few\nof them, are only a Protestant sect, born of the Reformation, as\nthe greater part of them strenuously contend. There is something in\npeople's instincts; and it is worthy of note that no people who have\ncast off the authority of the Holy See have ever ventured to assume\nas their official name the title of APOSTOLIC. Even the schismatic\nGreeks, while they claim to be orthodox, do not officially call their\nchurch apostolic; and the American Anglicans assume only the name of\nProtestant Episcopal. _Protestant apostolic_ would strike the whole\nworld as incongruous, and very much as a contradiction in terms.\n\nLet the argument be worth little or much, the only body claiming\nto be the church of Christ that has or has had an uninterrupted\nhistorical existence from the apostles to us, is the body that is\nin communion with the See of Rome, and recognizes the successor of\nPeter in that see as the Vicar of Christ, the teacher of the nations,\nsupreme pastor of the faithful, with plenary authority from our Lord\nhimself to feed, rule, and govern the universal church. The fact is\ntoo plain on the very face of history for any one who knows history\nat all to deny it. Nor, in fact, does any one deny it. All in reality\nconcede it; and the pretence is that to be in communion with that see\nis not necessary in order to be in communion with Christ, or with the\nuniversal church.\n\nBut this is a question of law or of its interpretation, and can\nitself be determined only by the supreme court instituted to keep,\ninterpret, and declare the law. The court of last resort has already\ndecided the question. It is _res adjudicata_, and no longer an open\nquestion. The court has decided that _extra ecclesiam, nulla salus_,\nor, that out of communion with the church there is no communion with\nChrist; and that out of communion with the Holy See there is no\ncommunion with the universal church, for there is no such church.\nDo you appeal from the decision of the court? To what tribunal? To\na higher tribunal? But there is no higher tribunal than the court\nof last resort. None of the sects are higher than the church, or\ncompetent to set aside or overrule her decisions. Do you appeal to\nthe Bible? But this were only appealing from the law as expounded by\nthe church or the supreme court to the law as expounded by yourself\nor your sect. Such an appeal cannot be entertained, for it is an\nappeal, not from an inferior court to a superior, but from the\nhighest court to the lowest. The law expounded by the individual\nor the sect is below, not above, the law expounded and declared\nby the church. The sect has confessedly no authority, and the law\nexpounded and applied by the sect is no more than the law expounded\nand applied by the private individual; and no private individual is\nallowed to expound and apply the law for himself, but must take it\nas expounded and applied by the court, and the judgment as to what\nthe law is of the court of last resort is final, and from it, as\nevery lawyer knows, there lies no appeal. To be able to set aside or\noverrule the judgment of the church, it is necessary, then, to have\na court of superior jurisdiction, competent to revise her judgments\nand to confirm or to overrule them. But, unhappily for those who are\ndissatisfied with her judgments, there is and can be no such court to\nwhich they can appeal.\n\nThere might be some plausibility in the pretended appeal from the\nchurch to the Bible, if the church had not the Bible, or if she\navowedly rejected its divine authority; but as the case stands,\nsuch an appeal is irregular, illegal, and absurd. The church has\nand always has had the Bible ever since it was written. It was,\nas we have seen, originally deposited with her, and it is only\nfrom her that those outside of her communion have obtained it or\ntheir knowledge of it. She has always held and taught it to be the\ndivinely inspired and authoritative written word of God, which\nnone of her children are allowed to deny or question. There is no\nopposition possible between her teaching and the Bible, for the\nBible is included in her teaching, and consequently no appeal from\nher teaching to the Bible. It would be only an appeal from herself\nto herself. The only appeal conceivable in the case is from her\nunderstanding of the sacred Scriptures or the revealed word of God\nto--your own; but as you at best have confessedly no authority to\nexpound, interpret, or declare the law, your understanding of the\nwritten word can in no case override or set aside hers.\n\nThe Reformers, when they pretended to appeal from the church to the\nBible, mistook the question and proceeded on a false assumption.\nThere never was any question between the church and the Bible; the\nonly question there was or could be was between her understanding\nof the Bible and theirs, or, as we have said, between the Bible\nas expounded by the church and the Bible as expounded by private\nindividuals. This the Reformers did not or would not see, and this\ntheir followers do not or will not see to this day. Now, count the\nauthority of the church for as little as possible, her understanding\ncannot be below that of private individuals, and the understanding of\nprivate individuals can never override it, or be a sufficient reason\nfor setting it aside. The Reformers had recognized the church as the\nsupreme authority in matters of faith, and the question was not on\nadmitting her authority as something hitherto unrecognized, but on\nrejecting an authority they had hitherto acknowledged as divine. They\ncould not legally reject it except on a higher authority, or by the\njudgment of a superior court. But there was no superior court, no\nhigher authority, and they could oppose to her not the authority of\nthe Bible, as they pretended, but at best only their private opinion\nor views of what it teaches, which in no case could count for more\nthan her judgment, and therefore could not overrule it or authorize\nits rejection.\n\nIt is all very well to deny the divine commission and authority of\nthe church to expound the word and declare the law of God; but a\ndenial, to serve any purpose, or to be worth anything, must have a\nreason, and a higher reason than has the affirmation denied. One\ncan deny only by an authority sufficient to warrant an affirmation.\nIt needs as much reason to deny as to affirm. The authority of the\nchurch can really be denied only by opposing to her a truth that\ndisproves it. A simple negation is nothing, and proves or disproves\nnothing. Yet the Reformers opposed to the church only a simple\nnegation. They opposed to her no authority, no affirmative truth,\nand consequently gave no reason for denying or unchurching her.\nIndeed, no individual or sect ever opposes either to the church or\nto her teaching anything but simple negation, and no one ever makes\nan affirmation or affirms any truth or positive doctrine which she\ndoes not herself affirm or hold and teach. Every known heresy, from\nthat of the Docet\u00e6 down to the latest development of Protestantism,\nsimply denies what the church teaches, and affirms nothing which she\ndoes not herself affirm, as Catholics have shown over and over again.\nThese denials, based as they are on no principle or affirmative\ntruth, are gratuitous, and count for nothing against the church or\nher teaching. Who would count the denial by a madman that the sun\nshines in a clear sky at noonday?\n\nThe simple fact is that whoever denies the church or her judgments\ndoes it without any authority or reason but his own private opinion\nor caprice, and that is simply no authority or reason at all. It is\nnot possible to allege any authority against her or her teaching.\nMen may cavil at the truth, may by their sophistries and subtleties\nobscure the truth or involve themselves in a dense mental fog, so\nthat they are unable to see anything distinctly, or to tell where\nthey are or in what direction they are moving. They may thus imagine\nthat they have some reason for their denials, and even persuade\nothers that such is the fact; but whenever the fog is cleared away,\nand they have _easted_ themselves, they cannot, if they have ordinary\nintelligence, fail to discover that the truth which in their own\nminds they opposed to her or her teaching is a truth which she\nherself holds and teaches as an integral part of her doctrine, or\nas included in the depositum of faith she has received. Do you say\nthere is truth outside of the church; truth in all religions; in all\nsuperstitions, even? Be it so; but there is no truth outside of her\nin any religion or superstition that she denies or does not recognize\nand hold, and hold in its unity and catholicity. There may be facts\nin natural history, in physics, chemistry, in all the special\nsciences, as in the several handicrafts, that she does not teach;\nbut there is no principle of science of any sort that she does not\nhold and apply whenever an occasion for its application occurs. None\nof the special sciences have their principles in themselves, or do or\ncan demonstrate the principles on which they depend, and from which\nthey derive their scientific character. They all depend for their\nscientific character on a higher science, the science of sciences,\nwhich the church and the church alone teaches. The principles of\nethics, and therefore of politics as a branch of ethics, all lie in\nthe theological order, and without theology there is and can be no\nscience of ethics or politics; and hence we see that both, with those\nwho reject theology, are purely empirical, without any scientific\nbasis. An atheist may be moral in his conduct, but if there were no\nGod there could be no morality; so may an atheist be a geometrician,\nbut if there were no God there could be no geometry. Deny God, and\nwhat becomes of lines that may be infinitely projected, or of space\nshading off into immensity, on which so much in the science of\ngeometry depends? Nay, deny God, and what would become even of finite\nspace? Yet without the conception of space, which is in truth only\nthe power of God to externize his acts, geometry would be impossible.\nAll the special sciences are secondary, and are really science only\nwhen carried up to their first principles and explained by them. What\nmore absurd, then, than the attempt of scientists to prove by science\nthere is no God, or to oppose science to the theology of the church,\nwithout which no science is possible?\n\nWe need but look at the present state of men's minds to see how the\nworld gets on without the church. Never were men more active or\nindefatigable in their researches: they send their piercing glances\ninto all subjects, sacred and profane; they investigate the heavens\nand the earth, the present and the past, and leave no nook or corner\nof nature unexplored, and yet there is not a principle of ethics,\npolitics, or science that is not denied or called in question. In the\nmoral and political world nothing is fixed or settled, and moral and\nintellectual science, as well as statesmanship, disappears. Doubt and\nuncertainty hang over all questions, and the distinctions between\nright and wrong, just and unjust, as well as between good and evil,\nare obscured and well-nigh obliterated. The utmost confusion reigns\nin the whole world of thought, and \"men,\" as a distinguished prelate\nsaid to us the other day, \"are trying the experiment of governing the\nworld without conscience.\" All this proves what we maintain, that\nthey who deny the church, or reject her teaching, have no truth to\noppose to her, no reason for their denial, and no principle on which\nthey base their rejection of her authority. Their rejection of the\nchurch and her teaching is purely gratuitous, and therefore, if not\nsinful, is at least baseless.\n\nThis much is certain, that it is either the church or nothing. There\nis no other alternative. Nothing is more absurd than for those\nwho reject the church and her teaching to pretend to be Christian\nteachers or believers. They cannot believe the revelation God has\nmade on the veracity of God alone, for they have no witness, not\neven an unassisted human witness, of the fact of revelation, of\nwhat God has revealed, or that he has or has not revealed anything,\nsince they have no witness who was the contemporary of our Lord and\nhis apostles--they were none of them born then--and they have no\ninstitution that dates from apostolic times, and that has continued\nwithout break down to the present. In fact, what they profess to\nbelieve, in so far as they believe it at all, they believe on the\nauthority of the church, or of that very tradition which they reject\nand deny to be authority. They agree among themselves in their\ndoctrinal belief only when and where they agree with the church;\nwhenever and wherever they break from Catholic tradition, preserved\nand handed down by her, they disagree and fight with one another,\nare all at sea, and have neither chart nor compass. Do they tell us\nthat they agree in the essentials of the Christian faith? Yet it is\nonly so far as they follow Catholic tradition that they know or can\nagree among themselves as to what are or are not essentials. There is\na wide difference between what Dr. Pusey holds to be essential and\nwhat is held to be essential by Dr. Bellows. Nearly the only point\nin which the two agree is in rejecting the infallible authority of\nthe successor of Peter; and, in rejecting that authority, neither\nhas any authority for believing what he believes, or for denying\nwhat he denies. Deny the church, and you have no authority for\nasserting divine revelation at all, as your rationalists and radicals\nconclusively prove.\n\nBut, happily, the other alternative saves us from all these logical\ninconsistencies. The church meets every demand, removes every\nembarrassment, and affords us the precise authority we need for\nfaith, for she is in every age and every land a living witness to the\nfact of revelation, and an ever-present judge competent to declare\nwhat God reveals, and to teach us what we have, and what we have not,\nthe veracity of God for believing. She can assure us of the divine\ninspiration and authority of the Holy Scriptures, which without\nher tradition is not provable; for she has received them through\nthe apostles from our Lord himself. She can enable us to read them\naright, and can unfold to us by her teaching their real sense; for\nthe Holy Ghost has deposited with her the whole revelation of God,\nwhether written or unwritten. Outside of her, men, if they have the\nbook called the Bible, can make little or nothing of it, can come to\nno agreement as to its sense, except so far as they inconsistently\nand surreptitiously avail themselves of her interpretation of it.\nThey have no key to its sense. But she has the key to its meaning\nin her possession and knowledge of all that God reveals, or in the\ndivine instruction she has received in the beginning. The whole word\nof God, and the word of God as a whole, is included in the depositum\nshe has received, and therefore she is able at all times and in all\nplaces to give the true sense of the whole, and of the relation to\nthe whole of each and every part. In her tradition the Bible is a\nbook of divine instruction, of living truth, of inestimable value,\nand entitled to the profoundest reverence, which we know it is not in\nthe hands of those who wrest it from her tradition, and have no clue\nto its meaning but grammar and lexicon.\n\nThe notion that a man who knows nothing of the Christian faith,\nand is a stranger to the whole order of Christian thought and\nlife, can take up the Bible, even when correctly translated into\nhis mother-tongue, and from reading and studying it arrive at an\nadequate knowledge, or any real knowledge at all, of Christian truth\nor the revelation which God has made to man, is preposterous, and\ncontradicted by every day's experience. Just in proportion as men\ndepart from the tradition of faith preserved by the church, the\nBible becomes an unintelligible book, ceases to be of any use to the\nmind, and, if reverenced at all, becomes, except in a few plain moral\nprecepts, a source of error much more frequently than of truth. One\nof the most precious gifts of God to man becomes instead of a benefit\na real injury to the individual and to society. Our school-boards\nmay, then, easily understand why we Catholics object to the reading\nof the Bible in schools where the church cannot be present to\nenlighten the pupil's mind as to its real and true sense. It is the\ncourt that keeps the statute-books, and interprets and applies the\nlaw, whether the _lex scripta_ or the _lex non scripta_.\n\nThe church, existing in all ages and in all nations as one identical\nbody, is a living witness in all times and places, as we have said,\nof the fact that God has revealed what she believes and teaches,\nand is through his assistance a competent and sufficient authority\nfor that fact, and to interpret and declare the revealed law, as\nmuch so, to say the least, as the supreme court of a nation is\nto declare what is the law of the state. The objection made by\nrationalists and others to believing on the authority of the church,\nor to recognizing her authority to declare the faith, is founded on\nthe false assumption that the church makes the faith, and can make\nanything of faith she pleases, whether God has revealed it or not. We\nhave already answered this objection. The church bears witness to the\nfact of revelation, and declares what is or is not the faith God has\nrevealed, as the supreme court declares what is or is not the law of\nthe state; but she can declare nothing to be of faith that is not of\nfaith, or that God has not revealed and commanded all men to believe,\nfor through the divine assistance she is infallible, and therefore\ncannot err in matters of faith, or in any matters pertaining in\nany respect to faith and morals. Since she cannot err in declaring\nwhat God has revealed and commanded, we are assured that what she\ndeclares to be revealed is revealed, or to be commanded is commanded,\nand therefore we know that whatever we are required to believe as\nof faith, or to do as commanded of God, we have the authority of\nGod himself for believing and doing, the highest possible reason\nfor faith, since God is truth itself, and can neither deceive nor\nbe deceived; and the highest possible law, for God is the Supreme\nLawgiver. It is they who reject the church or deny her authority\nthat have only an arbitrary and capricious human authority, and who\nabdicate their reason and their freedom, and make themselves slaves,\nand slaves of human passion, arrogance, and ignorance. The Catholic\nis the only man who has true mental freedom, or a reason for his\nfaith. His faith makes him free. It is the truth that liberates; and\ntherefore our Lord says, \"If the Son shall make you free, ye shall\nbe free indeed.\" Who can be freer than he who is held to believe and\nobey only God? They whom the truth does not make free may fancy they\nare free, but they are not; they are in bondage, and abject slaves.\n\nThe church in affirming herself is not making herself the judge\nin her own cause, is not one of the litigants, as some pretend,\nfor the cause in which she judges is not hers, but that of God\nhimself. She is the court instituted by the Supreme Lawgiver to\nkeep, interpret, and declare his law, and therefore to judge between\nhim and the subjects his law binds. She, in determining a case of\nfaith or morals, no more judges in her own cause than the supreme\ncourt of a nation does in defining its own jurisdiction, and in\ndetermining a case arising under the law of which it is constituted\nby the national authority the judge. She has, of course, the right,\nas has every civil court, to punish contempt, whether of her orders\nor her jurisdiction, for he who contemns her contemns him who has\ninstituted her; but the questions to be decided are questions of law,\nwhich she does not make, and is therefore no more a party to the\ncause litigated, and no more interested or less impartial, than is\na civil court in a civil action. Indeed, we see not, if it pleases\nAlmighty God to make a revelation, and to set up his kingdom on\nearth with that revelation for its law, how he can provide for its\ndue administration without such a body as the church affirms herself\nto be, nor how it would be possible to institute a higher or more\nsatisfactory method of determining what the law of his kingdom is,\nthan by the decision of a court instituted and assisted by him for\nthat very purpose. In our judgment, no better way is practicable, and\nno other way of attaining the end desired is possible. We repeat,\ntherefore, that the church meets every demand of the case, and\nremoves every real difficulty in ascertaining what is the faith God\nhas revealed, as well as what is opposed to it, or tends to obscure\nor impair it.\n\nIt is agreed on all hands, by all who hold that our heavenly Father\nhas made us a revelation and instituted a church, that the Church of\nRome, founded by Saints Peter and Paul, was in the beginning catholic\nand apostolic. If she was so in the beginning, she is so now; for she\nhas not changed, and claims no authority which she has not claimed\nand exercised, as the occasion arose, from the first. She is the\nsame identical body as she has been from the beginning. All the\nsectarian and schismatical bodies that oppose or refuse to submit\nto her authority acknowledged her authority prior to rejecting it,\nand were in communion with her. The change is not hers, but theirs.\nThey have changed and gone out from her, because they were not of\nher, but she has remained ever the same. Take the schismatic Greeks.\nThey originally were one body with her, and held the successor of\nPeter in the Roman See as primate or head of the whole visible\nchurch. They got angry or were perverted, and rejected the authority\nof the Roman Pontiff, and have never even to this day ventured to\ncall themselves officially the Catholic or the Apostolic church. The\nmen who founded the Reformed Churches so-called--Anglican among the\nrest--were brought up in the communion of the Catholic Church, and\nacknowledged the supremacy of the Roman Pontiff, and the Church of\nRome as the mother and mistress of all the churches. The separation\nwas caused by their change, not by hers. She held and taught at\nthe time of the separation what she had always held and taught,\nand claimed no authority which she had not claimed from the first.\nEvidently, then, it was they and not she that changed and denied what\nthey had previously believed. She lost individuals and nations from\nher communion, but she lost not her identity, or any portion of her\nrights and authority, as the one and only church of Christ, for she\nholds from God, not from the faithful. She has continued to be what\nshe was at first, while they have gone from one change to another,\nhave fallen into a confusion of tongues, as their prototypes did at\nBabel; and Luther and Calvin could hardly recognize their followers\nin those who go by their name to-day.\n\nIn the very existence of the church through so many changes in the\nworld around her, the rise and fall of states and empires, assailed\nas she has been on every hand, and by all sorts of enemies, is a\nstanding miracle, and a sufficient proof of her divinity. She was\nassailed by the Jews, who crucified her Lord and stirred up, wherever\nthey went, the hostility of the people against his holy apostles\nand missionaries; she was assailed by the relentless persecution\nof the Roman Empire, the strongest organization the world has ever\nseen, and the greatest political power of which history gives any\nhint--an empire which wielded the whole power of organized paganism;\nshe was driven to the catacombs, and obliged to offer up the holy\nsacrifice under the earth, for there was no place for her altars on\nits surface. Yet she survived the empire; emerged from the catacombs\nand planted the cross on the Capitol of the pagan world. She had\nthen to encounter a hardly less formidable enemy in the Arian\nheresy, sustained by the civil power; then came her struggle with\nthe barbarian invaders and conquerors from the fifth to the tenth\ncentury--the revolt of the East, or the Greek schism; the great\nschism of the West; the Northern revolt, or the so-called Reformation\nof the sixteenth century; and the hostility since of the greatest and\nmost powerful states of the modern world; yet she stands erect where\nshe did nearly twenty centuries ago, maintaining herself against all\nopposition; against the power, wealth, learning, and refinement of\nthis world; against Jew, pagan, barbarian, heretic, and schismatic,\nand preserving her identity and her faith unchanged through all\nthe vicissitudes of the world in the midst of which she is placed.\nShe never could have done it if she had been sustained only by\nhuman virtue, human wisdom, and human sagacity; she could not have\nsurvived unchanged if she had not been under the divine protection,\nand upheld by the arm of Almighty God. The fact that she has lived on\nand preserved her identity, especially if we add to the opposition\nfrom without the scandals that have occurred within, is conclusive\nproof that under her human form she lives a divine and supernatural\nlife; therefore that she is the church of God, and is what she\naffirms herself to be.\n\nBelieving the church to be what she affirms herself to be; believing\nthe Roman Pontiff to be the successor of Peter, the Vicar of Christ\non earth, the father and teacher of all Christians, we have no fear\nthat she will not survive the persecution which now rages against\nher, and that the Pope will not see his enemies prostrate at his\nfeet. Through all history, we have seen that the successes of her\nenemies have been short-lived, and the terrible losses they have\noccasioned have been theirs, not hers. It will always be so. Kings,\nemperors, potentates, states, and empires may destroy themselves by\nopposing her, but her they cannot harm. See we not how the wrongs\ndone to the Holy Father by Italian robbers, obeying the dictates of\nthe secret societies, some of which, like the _Madre Natura_, date\nalmost from apostolic times, are quickening the faith and fervor of\nCatholics throughout the world? Not for centuries has the Holy Father\nbeen so strong in the love and devotion of his faithful children as\nto-day. Never is the church stronger or nearer a victory than when\nabandoned by all the powers of this world, and thrown back on the\nsupport of her divine Spouse alone.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[21] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[22] _The Vatican Council and its Definitions._ A Pastoral Letter to\nthe Clergy. By Henry Edward, Archbishop of Westminster. New York: D.\n& J. Sadlier. 1871. 12mo, pp. 252.\n\n\n\n\nBORDEAUX.\n\n\nOne of the first objects that strikes the mariner ascending the\nGaronne towards Bordeaux is the ancient tower of St. Michel. I\nvisited it the very morning after my arrival in that city. It is the\nbelfry of a church of the same name, but is separated from it, being\nabout forty yards distant. It was built in 1472, and is two hundred\nand fifty feet high. Formerly, it was over three hundred feet in\nheight, but the steeple was blown down by a hurricane on the 8th of\nSeptember, 1768. The view from the top is superb. Before you, like\na map, lies the whole city--a noted commercial centre from the time\nof the C\u00e6sars--encircling a great bend of the river. The eye is at\nfirst confused by the mass of roofs, spires, and streets, but in a\nmoment singles out the great cruciform churches of St. Andr\u00e9, Ste.\nCroix, and St. Michel. They lie beneath like immense crosses with\narms stretched out--a perpetual appeal to heaven. Such remembrances\nof Calvary must ever stand between a sinful world and the justice of\nAlmighty God. How can he look down upon all the iniquity of a great\ncity, and not feel the silent _Parce nobis_ of these sacred arms\nextended over it, repeating silently, as it were, the divine prayer,\n\"Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!\" Oh! what\na love for the Passion dwelt in the heart of the middle ages which\nbuilt these churches. Absorbed in the thought, I lost sight of the\ncity. Its activity, its historical associations, the fine buildings\nand extensive view, all disappear before the cross. Bordeaux is\ngenerally thought of only as a wine-mart, but it also has holier\nassociations. \"Every foot-path on this planet may lead to the door of\na hero,\" it is said, and very few paths there are in this Old World\nthat do not bring us upon the traces of the saints--the most heroic\nof men, who have triumphed over themselves, which is better than the\ntaking of a strong city. They it was that made these great signs of\nthe cross on the breast of this fair city, hallowing it for ever.\n\nBeneath the tower of St. Michel is a _caveau_, around which are\nranged ninety mummies in a state of preservation said to be owing to\nthe nature of the soil. Why is it that every one is enticed down to\nwitness so horrid a spectacle? Dust to dust and ashes to ashes is\nfar preferable to these withered bodies, and a quiet resting-place,\ndeep, deep in the bosom of mother earth till the resurrection.\nEdmond About says the twelfth century would have embroidered many a\ncharming legend to throw around these bodies, but the moderns have\nless imagination, and the guardian of the tower, who displays them\nby the light of his poor candle, is totally deficient in poesy. Had\nthis writer been at Bordeaux on the eve of All Souls' day, he would\nhave been invited at the midnight hour, \"when spirits have power,\"\nto listen to the lugubrious cries and chants that come up from the\n_caveau_, where, as the popular voice declares, these ninety forms\nare having their yearly dance--the dance of death! I wonder if the\nmummy next the door, as you gladly pass out into the upper air, has\nhis hand still extended like an _au revoir_.... Yes, there is one\nplace where we shall meet, but not in this repulsive form. May we all\nbe found there with glorified bodies!\n\nThe church of St. Michel is older than the tower, having been built\nin the twelfth century. It is of the Gothic style, and one of those\nantique churches that speak so loudly to the heart of the traveller\nfrom the New World--one in which we are penetrated with\n\n                        \"An inward stillness,\n      That perfect silence when the lips and heart\n      Are still, and we no longer entertain\n      Our own imperfect thoughts and vain opinions,\n      But God alone speaks in us, and we wait\n      In singleness of heart that we may know\n      His will, and in the silence of our spirits\n      That he may do his will, and do that only.\"\n\nThe ancients had a deep meaning when they represented the veiled Isis\nwith her finger on her hushed lips. The soul profoundly impressed by\nthe Divine Presence is speechless.\n\nIn one of the side chapels is the tomb of an old bishop of the middle\nages, in a niche of the wall. On it he lies carven in stone, with\nthe mitre on his head, and clad in his pontifical vestments, and his\nhands folded in prayer.\n\n                      \"Still praying in thy sleep\n        With lifted hands and face supine,\n      Meet attitude of calm and reverence deep,\n        Keeping thy marble watch in hallowed shrine.\"\n\nThe cathedral of St. Andr\u00e9 is another of these venerable monuments of\nthe past. Founded in the fourth century, destroyed by the barbarians,\nrestored by Charlemagne, and again ruined by the Normans, it was\nrebuilt in the eleventh century, and consecrated by Pope Urban II.,\nin 1096. I went there at an early hour to offer up my thanksgiving\nfor the happy end of this stage of my journey. The canons were just\nchanting the hours, which reverberated among the light arches with\nfine effect. Masses were being offered in various chapels, and there\nwere worshippers everywhere. I was particularly struck with the\ndevout appearance of a venerable old man in one of the dimmest and\nmost remote chapels, enveloped in a hooded cloak, with the capuche\ndrawn over his head. He looked as if his soul, as well as his body,\nwas almost done with time.\n\nThrough all these aisles and oratories, which whispering lips filled\nwith the perfume of prayer streaming through the old windows came the\nmorning sun,\n\n      \"Whose beams, thus hallowed by the scenes they pass,\n      Tell round the floor each parable of glass.\"\n\nI can still see the purple light filling the chapel of the Sacred\nHeart and ensanguining the uplifted Host.\n\n      \"A sweet religious sadness, like a dove,\n      Broods o'er this place. The clustered pillars high\n      Are ros\u00e9d o'er by the morning sky:\n      And from the heaven-hued windows far above,\n      Intense as adoration, warm as love,\n      A purple glory deep is seen to lie.\n      Turn, poet, Christian, now the serious eye,\n      Where, in white vests, a meek and holy band,\n      Chanting God's praise in solemn order, stand.\n      O hear that music swell far up and die!\n      Old temple, thy vast centuries seem but years,\n      Where wise and holy men lie glorified!\n      Our hearts are full, our souls are occupied,\n      And piety has birth in quiet tears!\"\n\nAnd all the worshippers in this church were turned toward the holy\nEast, whence cometh the Son of Man. The glory of the Lord came into\nthe house by the way of the gate whose prospect is toward the East.\nI like this orientation of churches now too much neglected. The old\nsymbolic usages of the church should be perpetuated. This turning\nto the East in prayer was at one age the mark of a true believer,\ndistinguishing him from those who had separated from the church.\nTrue, some of the old basilicas at Rome and elsewhere have their\naltars at the west, but, according to the ritual of such churches,\nthe priest turns toward the people, thus looking to the East.\nCassiodorus and others say that our Lord on the cross had his face\ntoward the west. So, in directing our thoughts and hearts to Calvary,\nit is almost instinctive to look to the East.\n\n      \"With hands outstretched, bleeding and bare,\n      He doth in death his innocent head recline,\n      Turning to the west. Descending from his height,\n      The sun beheld, and veiled him from the sight.\n      Thither, while from the serpent's wound we pine,\n      To thee, remembering that baptismal sign,\n      We turn and drink anew thy healing might.\"\n\nLet us, then, place, as Wordsworth says,\n\n                    \"Like men of elder days,\n      Our Christian altar faithful to the east,\n      Whence the tall window drinks the morning rays.\"\n\nWhile I was lingering with peculiar interest before a monument to\nthe memory of Cardinal de Cheverus, the first Bishop of Boston, and\nafterward Archbishop of Bordeaux, whose memory is revered in the Old\nWorld and the New, I heard a chanting afar off, and, looking around,\nsaw through the open door a funeral procession coming hastily along\nthe street toward the church, and singing the _Miserere_--coming,\nnot with mournful step and slow, as with us, but like the followers\nof Islam, who believe the soul is in torment between death and\nburial, and so lay aside their usual dignified deportment and hurry\nthe body to the grave. But in France the funeral _cort\u00e9ge_ does not\nnecessarily include the relatives, and I felt this very haste might\nbe typical of their eagerness to commence the Office of the Dead.\nAnyhow, I forgave them when, in the chapel draped in black, I saw\nthem devoutly betake themselves to prayer during the Holy Sacrifice.\nI, too, dropped my little bead of prayer for the eternal rest of one\nwhose name I know not, but which is known to God.\n\n      \"Help, Lord, the souls which thou hast made,\n            The souls to thee so dear;\n      In prison for the debt unpaid,\n            Of sins committed here.\"\n\nThe confessionals seemed to be greatly frequented the day I was at\nSt. Andr\u00e9's--those sepulchres into which rolls the great burden of\nour sins. There\n\n      \"The great Absolver with relief\n      Stands by the door, and bears the key,\n      O'er penitence on bended knee.\"\n\nWhat non-Catholic has not felt, at least once in his life, as if\nhe would give worlds for the moral courage to lay down the burden\nof memory at the feet of some holy man endowed with the power of\nabsolving from sin! Almighty God has made his church the interpreter\nbetween himself and his creatures; hence the peculiar grace a holy\nconfessor has to meet the wants of the human heart laid bare before\nhim. Zoroaster told his disciples that the wings of the soul, lost\nby sin, might be regained by bedewing them with the waters of life\nfound in the garden of God. It is only the consecrated priest who\nhas the power of unsealing this fountain to each one of us. These\nconfessionals are distributed in the various chapels, everywhere\nmeeting the eye of the parched and sin-worn traveller who would\n\n      \"Kneel down, and take the word divine,\n      ABSOLVO TE.\"\n\nOf course there is a Ladye Chapel in this church, as in all others.\nJesus and Mary, whose names are ever mingled on Catholic lips, the\nfirst they learn and the last they murmur, are never separated in\nour churches. Devotion to the Virgin has grown up through the\nchurch, beautifying and perfuming it like the famous rose-bush in\nthe Cathedral of Hildesheim in Germany--the oldest of all known\nrose-bushes. It takes root under the choir in the crypt. Its age\nis unknown, but a document proves that nearly a thousand years ago\nBishop Hezilo had it protected by a stone roof still to be seen.\nSo with devotion to our Mystical Rose--_quasi plantatio ros\u00e6 in\nJericho_--its roots go down deep among the foundations of the church;\nsaints have protected and nourished it, and all nations come to sit\nunder its vine and inhale its perfume.\n\n      \"Blossom for ever, blossoming rod!\n        Thou didst not blossom once to die:\n      That life which, issuing forth from God,\n        Thy life enkindled, runs not dry.\n\n      \"Without a root in sin-stained earth,\n        'Twas thine to bud salvation's flower,\n      No single soul the church brings forth\n        But blooms from thee, and is thy dower.\"\n\nWhat a safeguard to man is devotion to Mary Most Pure! It is like the\nPridwin--the shield of King Arthur--on which was emblazoned the Holy\nVirgin, warding off the strokes of the great enemy of souls.\n\nThere are some poetical associations connected with Bordeaux: among\nothers, the memory of the troubadours who enriched and perfected the\nRomance tongue, but whose songs at last died away in the sad discord\nof the Albigensian wars. Here the gay and beautiful Eleanor of\nAquitaine held her court of love, gathering around her all the famous\ntroubadours of her time, and deciding upon the merits of their songs.\nAmong these was her favorite, Bernard de Ventadour, chiefly known to\nfame by being mentioned by Petrarch. Eleanor herself was a musician\nand a lover of poetry--tastes she inherited from her grandfather,\nWilliam, Duke of Aquitaine, generally called the Count de Poitiers,\none of the earliest of the troubadours whose songs have come down to\nus. Around this charming queen of love and song gathered the admiring\nvotaries of _la gaia sciencia_, like nightingales singing around the\nrose, all vowing, as in duty bound, that their hearts were bleeding\non the horns!\n\nPoor maligned Eleanor was too gay a butterfly for the gloomy court\nof Louis VII. She wanted the bright sun of her own province in which\nto float, and the incense of admiring voices to waft her along. She\nherself was a composer of _chansons_, and is reckoned among the\nauthors of France. She dearly loved Bordeaux, her capital, and was\nadored by its people. Here she was married with great pomp to Louis,\nafter which the Duke of Aquitaine laid aside his insignia of power,\nand, assuming the garb of a hermit, went on a pilgrimage to St. James\nof Compostella, and devoted the remainder of his life to prayer and\npenance in hermitage on Montserrat, by way of preparation for death.\nIt is well to pause awhile before plunging into the great ocean of\neternity.\n\nThese pilgrimages to Compostella were exceedingly popular in that\nage, and hospices for the pilgrims to that shrine were to be found in\nall the large cities and towns. There was one at Auch, and another\nat Paris in the Rue du Temple, which was particularly celebrated and\nserved by Augustinian nuns. And here at Bordeaux was the Hospice of\nSt. Andr\u00e9 for the reception of the weary votary of St. Jago.\n\n\"Here comes a pilgrim,\" says one of Shakespeare's characters. \"God\nsave you, pilgrim. Where are you bound?\"\n\n\"To St. Jacques le Grand. Where do the palmers lodge, I beseech you?\"\n\n        \"Eftsoones unto an holy hospitall\n      That was forby the way, she did him bring,\n      In which seven bead-men that had vowed all\n      Their life to service of high heaven's King,\n      Did spend their daies in doing godly thing;\n      Their gates to all were open evermore,\n      That by the wearie way were travelling,\n      And one sate wayting ever them before\n      To call in comers-by, that needy were and pore.\"\n\nDigby says the hospitality and charity of these hospices had their\norigin in the bishops' houses. Fortunatus thus speaks of Leontius\nII., Archbishop of Bordeaux, who, in accordance with the apostle's\ninjunction, was given to hospitality:\n\n      \"Susceptor peregrum distribuendo cibum.\n      Longius extremo si quis properasset ab orbe,\n      Advena mox vidit, hunc ait esse patrem.\"\n\nThat the devotion of the middle ages is yet alive in the church is\nproved by the influx of pilgrims at the shrine of St. Germaine of\nPibrac, at Notre Dame de Lourdes, and a thousand other places of\npopular devotion. So great is the number of pilgrims to Lourdes,\ndrawn by the brightness of Mary's radiant form, that the railway\nbetween Tarbes and Pau was turned from its intended direct line in\norder to pass through Lourdes. In one day the train from Bayonne\nbrought nine hundred, and at another time over a thousand pilgrims.\nAnd as for the continued charity and hospitality of the church,\nwitness the monks of St. Bernard and of Palestine, known to all the\nworld. How disinterested is genuine Catholic charity, done unto the\nLord and not unto man! Some suppose the good works practised among\nus is by way of barter for heaven, but they little know the spirit\nof the church. Charity is one expression of its piety, which, in its\nhighest manifestations, is devoid of self-interest. Listen to John\nof Bordeaux, a holy Franciscan friar, who, after quoting a saying\nof Epictetus, that we generally find piety where there is utility,\nsays: \"He does not come up to the standard of pure Christianity:\nhe pretends that piety takes its birth in utility, so that it is\ninterest that gives rise to devotion. Yes, among the profane, but\nnot among Christians, who, acquainted with the maxims of our holy\nreligion, have no other end but to serve God for his love and for his\nglory; forgetting all considerations of their own advantage, they\naspire to attain to that devotion which is agreeable to him without\nany view to their own interest.\"\n\nAnd in these practical times another holy writer, Dr. Newman, says\nin the same spirit: \"They who seek religion for culture's sake,\nare \u00e6sthetic, not religious, and will never gain that grace which\nreligion adds to culture, because they can never have the religion.\nTo seek religion for the present elevation, or even the social\nimprovement it brings, is really to fall from faith which rests\nin God, and the knowledge of him as the ultimate good, and has no\nby-ends to serve.\"\n\nBut to return to the romantic associations of this land of the vine,\nwe recall the celebrated old romance of Huon of Bordeaux, which\ncontains some delightful pictures of the age of chivalry. Here is one\nwhich I have abridged, showing how the religious spirit was inwoven\nwith the impulses of the knightly heart. The Emperor Thierry, furious\nbecause his nephews and followers had been slain by Huon, seized upon\nEsclarmonde (Huon's wife) and her attendants, and threw them into\na dungeon, there to await death. Huon, greatly afflicted at this,\ndisguised himself as a pilgrim from the Holy Land, and set out for\nMayence, where the emperor lived. He arrived on Maunday-Thursday,\nand learned that it was the custom of the emperor to grant the\npetitions of him who first presented himself after the office of\nGood Friday morning. Huon was so overjoyed at this information that\nhe could not sleep all that night, but betook himself to his orisons,\nimploring God to inspire and aid him so he might again behold his\nwife. When morning came, he took his pilgrim staff and repaired to\nthe chapel. As soon as the office was ended, he contrived to be the\nfirst to attract attention. He told the emperor he was there to\navail himself of the custom of the day in order to obtain a grace.\nThe emperor replied that, should he even demand fourteen of his\nfinest cities, they would be given him, for he would rather have one\nof his fists cut off than recede from his oath; therefore to make\nknown his petition, which would not be refused. Then Huon requested\npardon for himself and for all of his who might have committed some\noffence. The emperor replied: \"Pilgrim, doubt not that what I have\njust promised, I will fulfil, but I beg you right humbly to tell me\nwhat manner of man you are, and to what country and race you belong,\nthat you request such grace from me.\" Huon then made himself known.\nThe emperor's face blanched while listening to him, and for a long\ntime he was unable to speak. At last he said: \"Are you, then, Huon\nof Bordeaux, from whom I have received such ills--the slayer of my\nnephews and followers? I cannot cease wondering at your boldness\nin presenting yourself before me. I would rather have lost four of\nmy best cities, have had my whole dominions laid waste and burned,\nand I and my people banished for three years, than find you thus\nbefore me. But since you have thus taken me by surprise, know in\ntruth that what I have promised and vowed I will hold good, and, in\nhonor of the Passion of Jesus Christ, and the blessed day which now\nis, on which he was crucified and dead, I pardon you all hatred and\nevil-doing, and God forbid that I should hold your wife, or lands, or\nmen, which I will restore to your hands.\" Then Huon threw himself on\nhis knees, beseeching the emperor to forgive the injury he had done\nhim. \"God pardon you,\" said the emperor. \"As for me, I forgive you\nwith right good will,\" and taking Huon by the hand, he gave him the\nkiss of peace. Huon then said: \"May it please our Lord Jesus Christ\nthat this guerdon be returned to you twofold.\" Then the prisoners\nwere released, and, after a sumptuous entertainment, the emperor\naccompanied Huon and his noble lady on their way back to Bordeaux.\n\nBordeaux is interesting to the English race, because, among other\nreasons, it was for about three hundred years a dependency of the\nEnglish crown, being the dowry of Eleanor of Aquitaine, who married\nHenry II. after her divorce from Louis le Jeune. We associate the\ncity, too, with Froissart and the Black Prince, who held his court\nhere. Richard II. was born hard by at the Ch\u00e2teau de Lormont.\nAnd Henry III. came here to receive his son's bride, Eleanor of\nCastile, and gave her so extravagant a marriage feast as to excite\nthe remonstrances of his nobles. The country prospered under the\nEnglish government. The merchants had especial privileges granted\nthem by Eleanor, and their wines then, as now, found a ready market\nin London. Bordeaux in particular increased wonderfully, and outgrew\nits defensive walls. The church of St. Michel dates from the time\nof English domination, and in that quarter of the city may be seen\nold houses, one story projecting beyond the other, and the whole\nsurmounted by a pyramidal roof, said to be of English origin, and\nsuch as are to be seen in some of the oldest streets of London.\n\nEleanor always used her influence for the benefit of her people. The\nmost ancient charter of privileges granted the Gascon merchants was\ngiven by her on the first of July, 1189.\n\nThe English seem to have taken their war-cry from the old dukes of\nAquitaine who charged to the sound of \"St. George for the puissant\nduke.\" A devotion to St. George was brought from the East by the\nCrusaders. Richard I. placed himself and his army under the special\nprotection of this saint, who, the redoubted slayer of the dragon and\nthe redresser of woman's wrongs, appealed to the tenderest instincts\nof the chivalric heart. St. George's remains were brought from Asia\nby the Crusaders, and a large part is enshrined at Toulouse, in the\ngreat basilica of St. Sernin. The crest of the dukes of Aquitaine was\na leopard, which the kings of England bore for a long time on their\nshields. Edward III. is called a valiant pard in his epitaph.\n\nThese old dukes of Aquitaine seem always to have gone to extremes\neither as sinners or saints. Eleanor's grandfather, as I have said,\nwas one of the earliest of the troubadours. He was distinguished\nfor his bravery, his musical voice, and his manly beauty. His early\nlife was such as to incur the censure of the bishop, but he ended\nhis career in penitence, and the last of his poems is a farewell _\u00e1\nla chevalerie qu'il a tant aim\u00e9e_ for the sake of the cross. He was\none of the first to join the crusades at the head of sixty thousand\nwarriors, but he lost his troops and gained neither glory nor renown.\n\nThe term Aquitaine was given this country by Julius C\u00e6sar on account\nof its numerous rivers and ports. The ancient province of this name\nextended from the Loire to the Pyrenees. In the time of the Roman\ndominion, Bordeaux was its capital under the name of Burdigala. The\norigin of the city is uncertain. Strabo, who lived in the first\ncentury, mentions it as a celebrated emporium. Some suppose its first\ninhabitants to have been of Iberian origin. The real history of the\ncity commences about the middle of the third century, when Tetricus,\ngovernor of Aquitaine, assumed the purple and was proclaimed emperor.\nAbout the same time St. Martial preached in this region. But the\npagan divinities were still invoked in the time of Ausonius. In\nthe annals of the Council of Arles, in 314, Orientalis, Bishop of\nBordeaux, is mentioned.\n\nThe intellectual superiority of the Romans was always even more\npotent than the force of their arms. Barbarism disappeared before\nthe splendor of their civilization. Burdigala under their dominion\nfelt the influence of this superiority, and rose to such a degree\nof magnificence and luxury as to be a theme for Ausonius, St.\nJerome, and Sidonius Apollinaris. The remains of buildings at\nBordeaux belonging to this epoch give an idea of its prosperity and\nimportance. There is still an arena in ruins, commonly called the\nPalais-Gallien, but the most remarkable Roman monument of the city\nwas a temple called _Piliers de Tutelle_, which, partly ruined, was\ndemolished in 1677, by the order of Louis XIV., for the construction\nof a quay. Schools were established at Bordeaux at an early day.\nWe learn from St. Jerome that in his time the liberal arts were\nin the most flourishing condition here. In the time of the Roman\ndominion, there were universities at Bordeaux, Auch, Toulouse,\nMarseilles, Tr\u00e8ves, etc. The edicts issued for their benefit showed\nthe importance attached to their prosperity by the government. The\ncollege of Bordeaux furnished professors for Rome and Constantinople.\nValentinian I. chose Ausonius, a native of Bordeaux, to superintend\nthe education of his son Gratian. When the latter became emperor, he\nmade his old tutor a Roman consul (A.D. 379). The poems of Ausonius\nare still admired, but there is much in them that is reprehensible.\nThey were translated into French by M. Jaubert, a priest at Bordeaux,\nwho lived in the last century.\n\nThat the wines of Aquitaine were already celebrated in the fourth\ncentury is shown by the writings of Ausonius\n\n      \"Ostrea\n      Non laudata minus, nostri quam gloria vini.\"\n\nSt. Paulinus, bishop of Nola, lived at this time. He was born at\nBordeaux in the year 353, and was descended from a long line of\nillustrious senators. One of the several estates he owned near the\ncity still bears the name of _Le Puy Paulin_, puy being a word from\nthe _langue Romaine_, perhaps synonymous with the Latin word podium.\nOne of the public squares of Bordeaux also bears the same name.\nPaulinus possessed great elevation of mind and a poetical genius,\nwhich he cultivated under Ausonius, for whose care he expresses\nhis gratitude in verse. But Ausonius was magnanimous enough to\nacknowledge that Paulinus excelled him as a poet and that no modern\nRoman could vie with him.\n\nIn his early life Paulinus held dignified offices under government,\nbut his intercourse with St. Delphinus, bishop of Bordeaux, inspired\nhim with a love for retirement, in which his wife, a Spanish lady of\nwealth, participated. They passed over into Spain, and spent four\nyears there in the retirement of the country, but not as anchorites.\nHe seemed to have given up all of life but its sweetness when he\ncomposed the following prayer: \"O Supreme Master of all things,\ngrant my wishes, if they are righteous. Let none of my days be sad,\nand no anxiety trouble the repose of my nights. Let the good things\nof another never tempt me, and may my own suffice to those who ask\nmy aid. Let joy dwell in my house. Let the slave born on my hearth\nenjoy the abundance of my stores. May I live surrounded by faithful\nservants, a cherished wife, and the children she will bring me.\"\n\nWhile in Spain they lost their only son, whom they buried at Alcala,\nnear the bodies of the holy martyrs Justus and Pastor. This loss\nweaned them completely from the world. Their Spanish solitude had\nbeen a garden of roses, but now they chose the lily as their emblem,\nand resolved to lead a monastic life. Paulinus received holy orders,\nand they both sold all they possessed and gave the money to the\npoor. This drew upon Paulinus the contempt of the world. Even his\nown relatives and former slaves rose up against him, but to all\ntheir invectives he only replied: \"O beata injuria displicere cum\nChristo.\" \"O blessed scorn that is shared with Christ.\" Ausonius,\nin particular, was grieved to see the extensive patrimony of\nPaulinus cut up among a hundred possessors, and reproached him in\nbitter terms for his madness. But if the world rejected him, he was\nreceived with open arms by such men as St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, and\nSt. Augustine. His devotion to St. Felix, whose tomb he had visited\nin his childhood, induced him to fix his residence near Nola in\nCampania. Here he lived close by the church where his favorite saint\nwas enshrined. He had put on the livery of Christ's poor ones, and\ncontented himself with his cell and garden-plot. And his meekness\nand sanctity, joined to his talents as a writer, drew upon him the\nadmiration of the world. Persons of the highest rank from all parts\nwent to see him in his retreat, as St. Jerome and St. Augustine\ntestify. In his seclusion he writes poems that have all the delicacy\nand grace of Petrarch. He describes the church of his loved saint,\nwhose life and miracles he is never weary of dwelling on, as hung\nwith white draperies and gleaming with aromatic lamps and tapers; the\nporch is wreathed with fresh flowers, and the cloisters strewn with\nblossoms; and pilgrims come down from the mountains, marching even\nat night by the light of their torches, bringing their children in\nsacks, and their sick on litters, to be healed at the tomb; for all\nthe world, a picture of an Italian shrine of these days.\n\nHe loved the humblest duties of the sanctuary. \"Suffer me to remain\nat thy gates,\" he says. \"Let me cleanse thy courts every morning, and\nwatch every night for their protection. Suffer me to end my days amid\nthe employments I love. We take refuge within your hallowed pale and\nmake our nest in your bosom. It is herein that we are cherished, and\nexpand into a better life. Casting off the earthly burden, we feel\nsomething divine springing up within us, and the unfolding of the\nwings which are to make us equal to the angels.\" These words sound as\nif coming from the cloistered votary of the middle ages, or even of\nthe nineteenth century; the same is the spirit of the church in all\nages.\n\nThe writings of St. Paulinus show his devotion to the saints and\ntheir relics, a belief in the efficacy of prayers for the dead, and\nin the doctrine of the Real Presence. What can be more explicit, for\ninstance, than these lines on the Holy Eucharist?\n\n      \"In cruce fixa caro est, qu\u00e2 pascor; de cruce sanguis\n      Ille fluit, vitam quo bibo, corda lavo.\"\n\nHe adorned the walls of his church with paintings and composed\ninscriptions for the altar, under which were deposited the relics of\nSt. Andrew, St. Luke, St. Nazarius, and others, and sings thus:\n\n      \"In regal shrines with purple marble graced,\n      Their bones are 'neath illumined altars placed.\n      This pious band's contained in one small chest\n      That holds such mighty names within its tiny breast.\"\n\nAfter fifteen years of retirement, St. Paulinus was made bishop of\nNola. Shortly before he died, as the lamps were being lighted for the\nVesper service, he murmured,\n\n      \"I have trimmed my lamp for Christ.\"\n\nThe prosperity of Bordeaux under the Romans was interrupted by the\ninvasion of the barbarians that swept down from the north, bringing\nruin and desolation to the land. For nearly a century the city\nremained in the power of the Visigoths, who, being Arians, persecuted\nthe Catholic inhabitants. Sidonius Apollinaris deplores the injury\ndone to learning by their invasion, but perhaps the decline of\nlearning was partly owing to a growing distaste for pagan literature\namong Christians. The barbarians were finally routed by Clovis in\n507, and he took possession of Bordeaux. Charlemagne made Aquitaine\na kingdom for his son Louis le D\u00e9bonnaire. Louis, son of Charles le\nChauve, was the last king of Aquitaine. When he ascended the throne\nof France, it resumed its former rank as a duchy.\n\nThe college of Guienne was founded here in the middle ages. In the\nsixteenth century, it had, at one time, twenty-five hundred pupils.\nThe famous George Buchanan, whom everybody knows, because his head\nadorns the cover of _Blackwood's Magazine_, but who is more spoken\nof than read, taught in this college three years. He came here in\n1539. Among his pupils was the great Montaigne, who passed most of\nhis life at Bordeaux and is buried in the church of the Feuillants.\nAs Buchanan was somewhat given to hilarity and loved the flavor of\nGascon wines, this city probably had its attractions for him. In his\n_Mai\u00e6 Calend\u00e6_, full of gaiety and merry-making, he speaks of the\ngrapes of the sandy soil of Gascony:\n\n      \"Nec tenebris claudat generosum cella Ly\u00e6um,\n      Quem dat arenoso Vasconis uva solo.\"\n\nOne vintage season, Buchanan went to Agen to enjoy it at the\nresidence of his friend, the celebrated Julius Scaliger, who had\nbeen a professor at the college of Guienne, but was now settled as a\nphysician at Agen.\n\nAmong the other literary celebrities of Bordeaux is Arnaud Berquin,\nwhose charming writings are still popular. His _Ami des Enfants_ was\ncrowned by the French Academy in 1784. And Montesquieu was born at\nthe ch\u00e2teau of La Br\u00e8de near Bordeaux, whence he took his title of\nBaron de la Br\u00e8de.\n\nBordeaux is now the finest city in France after Paris, and it ranks\nnext to Lyons in importance. Perhaps I cannot do better than quote\nwhat a popular French author of the day says of it:\n\n    \"Bordeaux is five miles long and has one hundred and\n    fifty thousand inhabitants: plenty of room for few\n    people. But the entire population does not breathe at\n    its ease. If the grass be growing in the streets and\n    squares of the new town, there is some stifling felt\n    in the old districts. The Jews, chapmen, brokers, and\n    marine store men live in a dirty and unhealthy hive,\n    and their shops form no straight line along the narrow\n    and unpaved streets. You may still see a quantity of\n    those paunchy, hunchbacked, and decrepit houses, which\n    form the delight of romantic arch\u00e6ology, and you need\n    only go to Bordeaux to form an accurate idea of old\n    Paris. In the new town all is vast, rectilinear, and\n    monumental: the streets, squares, avenues, esplanades\n    and buildings rival the splendor of what we are taught\n    to admire in Paris. The Grand Th\u00e8\u00e2tre, containing only\n    twelve hundred persons, has the imposing aspect of a\n    Colosseum and a staircase which might be transferred\n    with advantage to our Opera. The caf\u00e9s are truly\n    monuments, and I saw a bathing establishment which bore\n    a strong resemblance to a necropolis. All this grandeur\n    dates from Louis XV. and Louis XVI. The population\n    of Bordeaux is one of the prettiest specimens of the\n    French nation. The women possess more expression than\n    freshness, but with good hair, good eyes, and white\n    teeth, a woman cannot but look well. The men have a\n    sharp look, a lively mind, and brilliancy of language.\"\n\nOne of the glories of Bordeaux is the bridge across the Garonne built\nby order of Napoleon the Great. It has seventeen arches, and there is\nan interior gallery communicating from one arch to another which is\naccessible.\n\nThere are some fine pictures in the Mus\u00e9e des Tableaux--a Perugino,\nand others by Titian, Vandyke, Rubens, etc. Some excellent artists\nhave been formed in the School of Design, among whom is Rosa Bonheur.\nBut the people in general are more fond of music and the drama than\nthe other fine arts.\n\nThe commerce of Bordeaux is extensive, but is surpassed by that of\nHavre, perhaps because there is too much of the _laisser-aller_ in\na more southern temperament. Nevertheless, the city is progressing.\nThe port, says the author already quoted, is a third edition of the\nThames at London and the Golden Horn at Constantinople.\n\n\n\n\nTHE \"AMEN\" OF THE STONES.\n\nFROM THE GERMAN.\n\n\n      Blind with old age, went Beda forth to preach\n      The blessed Gospel to the world, and teach\n      The listening crowd of village and of town.\n      A peasant school-boy led him up and down,\n      Proclaiming aye God's word with youthful fire.\n\n      Rather in childish folly than in scorn,\n      The lad the trusting graybeard led, one morn,\n      Down to a vale where massive stones around\n      Were strewed. \"A congregation fills the ground,\"\n      He said, \"and, lo, they wait to hear thee, sire.\"\n\n      Up rose the aged pilgrim, took the text,\n      Turned it, explained it, and applied it next,\n      Implored, exhorted, prayed, and, ending, bowed his head,\n      And to the listening crowd the Pater Noster said.\n\n      When he had ended, from the circling stones\n      The cry went forth, as if in human tones,\n      \"Amen, most reverend father!\" and again\n      The circling stones in concert cried, \"Amen!\"\n\n      The boy shrank back, remorseful, on his knees,\n      Confessed his fault, and sought to make his peace.\n      \"Mock not God's word,\" the old man to him said.\n      \"Know that, though men were mute to it, and dead.\n      The very stones will witness. 'Tis a living word,\n      And cutteth sharply, like a two-edged sword.\n      And if all human hearts to stones should turn,\n      A human heart within these stones would burn.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nDIEU DISPOSE.\n\nThe early morning of Mr. Rowan's burial had been heavy and dark; but\nas they left the island a shower of golden light broke through the\nclouds, the water sparkled on all sides, and the sighing air became a\nfrolic breeze. Dick and the captain brightened, and exchanged a few\nwords in seamen's phrase complimenting the weather. Mrs. Rowan also\nroused herself, brushed the sand from her clothes, arranged the folds\nof her veil, and even smoothed her hair. The poor creature's vanity\nwas dead, but at the prospect of meeting strangers it gave a slight\npost-mortem flicker. Out it went, though, the next instant, on the\nbreath of a sigh. What did it matter how she looked? But she glanced\nanxiously at Edith.\n\nThe child had put on her mother's red cape and drawn it up over her\nhead, and she still held it there, one slim hand pulling the folds\nclose together under her chin. That she might appear outlandish did\nnot trouble Edith. Indeed, she claimed the right to be so on account\nof her foreign blood. But when she noticed Mrs. Rowan's attention to\nher own toilet, and met her glance, she pushed the cape off her head,\nand, putting her arms up, began to smooth her hair and plait it into\na long braid. It was rich, long hair, not given to wilful ringlets,\nbut would curl when in the mood. Now the wind blew little curls out\nabout her face, and the risen sun steeped the tresses in a pale flame.\n\nThe braid finished, she tossed it back, and caught it lightly into a\nloop, the motion revealing a pair of round white arms, to which the\nhands and wrists looked like colored gauntlets. Then she unfolded\nher precious Indian relic of tarnished red and gold, and bound it\nstraightly about her head, half-covering the forehead, so that the\nlong, fringed ends hung behind, and a loose fold fell over each ear.\n\nBeholding her in that guise, Captain Cary thought that she looked\nfitter for some oriental scene than for this crude corner of a crude\nland. \"She might be a stolen child stained with gypsy-wort,\" he said\nto himself.\n\nBut she was Gypsy only in color. No wild fires burned in her face;\nher cool eyes looked out calm and observant; her mouth was gently\nclosed. The very shape of her features expressed tranquillity.\n\nThe sailor found himself much interested in this little girl.\nBesides that her appearance pleased him, his good-will had been\nbespoken; for on one of those days when their ship had lain becalmed\nin southern waters, Dick had told him all her story. Listening to\nit, half-asleep, as to something that might be fact and might be\nfancy, all the scene about him had entwined itself with the history\nand with the heroine's character. The solid golden day, shut down\nover a sea whose soft pulses told of perfect repose; the wide-eyed,\nradiant night, which seemed every moment on the point of breaking\ninto music far and near, a fine, clear music of countless sweet bells\nwith almost human tongues--they formed the background on which her\nimage floated. Seeing her did not dispel but rather strengthened the\nillusion. Something golden in her hair, something tranquil in her\nface, something expectant in her eyes--all were like.\n\nThe rough giant of a sailor mused tenderly over this as he sent their\nboat forward with powerful strokes, and watched Edith Yorke bind on\nher Egyptian _coiffure_.\n\nThey did not row to the wharf, where the steamer had already\narrived, but to a place a few rods above, where the sea had taken\na good semicircular bite out of the land. Here a straggling bit of\ndilapidated woods had been allowed to remain by the vandals who had\nturned all the rest to grass and pasture, and a mossy ledge broke the\nteeth of the soft, gnawing waves.\n\nEdith stepped lightly on shore. She was young, healthy, brave, and\nignorant, and pain, though it called forth her tears, was stimulating\nto her. That pang had not yet come which could cut her heart in twain\nand let all the courage out.\n\n\"You are spry,\" Captain Cary said, smiling down upon her.\n\nShe smiled faintly in return, but said nothing.\n\nMrs. Rowan needed assistance at either hand. She had been broken by\npain.\n\nThey stood awhile in the grove, Dick and the captain making some\nbusiness arrangements. The _Halcyon_ was to remain four weeks at\nSeaton, and it was agreed that Dick should have that time to get his\nmother settled. Then the ship would touch at New York, where he would\nembark for the East again.\n\nWhile they lingered, a large yellow coach, loaded with passengers,\nrattled past amid clouds of dust.\n\n\"There is no hurry,\" Dick said. \"It will take an hour to get the\nfreight off and on. But you needn't wait, captain. They'll be looking\nfor you at the village.\"\n\nThe others drew near to Captain Cary at that, holding his hands and\ntrying to utter their thanks.\n\n\"Oh! it's nothing,\" he said, much abashed. \"I haven't done anything\nto be thanked for. Good-by! Keep up your courage, and you will come\nout first-rate. There's nothing like grit.\"\n\nA subsiding ripple tossed his boat against the shore. At that hint\nhe stepped in, dallied with the rope, then said, with a perfectly\ntransparent affectation of having only just thought of it: \"Oh!\nI've got a ring here that Edith is welcome to, if she will wear it.\nI brought it home for my niece; but the child is dead. It won't fit\nanybody else I know.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan immediately thanked him, and Edith smiled with childish\npleasure. \"You are very kind, Captain Cary,\" she said. \"I always\nthought I would like to have a ring.\"\n\nDick alone darkened; but no one noticed it. He had meant to do\neverything for her; and here was a wish which she had never expressed\nto him, and he had not known enough to anticipate.\n\nThe captain drew a tiny box from his pocket, and displayed a small\ncirclet in which was set a single spark of diamond. Edith extended\nher left hand, and the sailor, leaning over the boatside, slipped the\nring on to her forefinger.\n\n\"Good-by, again!\" he said then hastily, and gave each of them a grasp\nof the hand. Dick could take care of himself; but the other two,\nputting out their tender hands impulsively, grew red in the face\nwith pain at the grip of his iron fingers. The next instant his boat\nshot out into the bay. They looked after him till he glanced back\nand saluted them with a nod, and two arches of spray tossed from his\noars; then turned and climbed the shore, Dick assisting his mother,\nEdith following.\n\n\"Good-by, trees!\" said the child, glancing up. \"Good-by, moss!\"\nstooping to gather a silken green flake and a cluster of red-topped\ngray. The prettiest cup had a spider in it, and she would not disturb\nit. \"Good-by, spider!\" she whispered, \"I'm never coming back again.\"\n\nShe had friends to take leave of, after all--not human friends, but\nGod's little creatures, who had never hurt her save in self-defence.\n\nWhen they reached the wharf, there was no one in sight but the men\nwho trundled the freight off and on. At the upper end of the wharf\nthere was a small building used as office and waiting-room. The\npassage to the boat being obstructed, Dick sent his mother and Edith\nthere, while he went on board to get tickets. They went to the door\nof the waiting-room, hesitated a moment on seeing it occupied, then\nwent in, and seated themselves in a retired corner.\n\nThe party who were already in possession glanced at the new-comers,\nand immediately became oblivious of them. This party were evidently\nthe members of one family. Some indefinable resemblance, as well as\ntheir air of intimacy, showed that. An elderly gentleman walked up\nand down the floor, his hands clasped behind his back, and a lady not\nmuch over forty sat near, surrounded by her three daughters. At a\nwindow, to which the mother's back was turned, looking up toward the\nvillage, stood a young man whose age could not be over twenty-three.\nThe ages of the daughters might vary from sixteen to twenty. They\nformed rather a remarkable group, and were attractive, though the\nfaces of all expressed more or less dissatisfaction. That of the\nyoung man indicated profound disgust. The elder lady had a sweet and\nmelancholy expression, and appeared like an invalid. The youngest\ndaughter, who sat beside her, was as like her mother as the waxing\nmoon is like the waning. She was pretty, had clinging, caressing\nways, a faint dimple in her left cheek, splendid auburn hair, and\ngray eyes. They called her Hester. On the other hand sat the eldest\ndaughter, a rather stately, self-satisfied young woman, whose\nattentions to her mother had an air of patronage. This was Melicent.\nShe was rather fair, neutral in color, and excessively near-sighted.\nThe second daughter stood behind her mother, and was very attentive\nto her, but in an absent way, often doing more harm than good by her\nassistance. \"My dear Clara, you are bundling the shawl all about\nmy neck! My love, you pull my bonnet off in arranging my veil!\nWhy, Clara, what are you doing to my scarf?\" Such remarks as these\nwere constantly being addressed to her. Clara was a dark brunette,\nwith small features, a superb but not tall figure, and large gray\neyes that looked black. Her coal-black hair grew rather low on the\nforehead, straight black brows overshadowed her eyes and nearly met\nover the nose, and an exquisitely delicate mouth gave softness to\nthis face which would otherwise have been severe. She seemed to be a\ngirl of immense but undisciplined energy, and full of enthusiasm.\n\nThe gentleman who paced the floor was slightly under-sized and thin\nin figure, thin in face, too, dark, and sallow. The very look of him\nsuggested bile and sarcasm. But let him speak for himself, since\nhe is just now on this subject. \"Bile, my dear,\" he said to his\nwife--\"bile came into the world with original sin. I am not sure that\nbile is not sin. It is Marah in a pleasant land. It is a fountain of\ngall in the garden of paradise. It poisons life. Doctors know nothing\nwhatever about bile, and liver-medicines are a superstition. He who\nshall discover a way to eradicate bile from the system will be a\ngreat moral reformer. Every sin I ever committed in my life took its\nrise in my liver. I believe the liver to be an interpolation in the\noriginal man. We should be better without it.\"\n\nThe gentleman who spoke had a wide, thin mouth, very much drawn down\nat the corners and nowise hidden, the gray moustache he spared in\nshaving being curled up at the ends. His manner was that of a person\nwho would scarcely brook contradiction. His speech was clear and\nemphatic, and he pronounced his words as if he knew how they were\nspelt. A long, delicate aquiline nose had a good deal to do with his\nprofile, as had also a pair of overhanging eyebrows. From beneath\nthese brows looked forth a pair of keen gray eyes, with countless\ncomplex wrinkles about them. The chin was handsome, well-rounded,\nand, fortunately, not projecting. A projecting chin with an aquiline\nnose is one of the greatest of facial misfortunes. Caricature can do\nno more. The forehead was intellectual, and weighty enough to make it\nno wonder if the slight frame grew nervous and irritable in carrying\nout the behests of the brain hidden there. The head was crowned by\na not inartistic confusion of gray hair which seemed to have been\nstirred by electricity.\n\n\"I am sorry, madam, that I cannot compliment the climate of your\nnative state,\" he remarked after a pause. \"The spring is a month or\nsix weeks behind that of Massachusetts, and the fall as much earlier.\nThe travelling here is simply intolerable. It is either clouds of\ndust, bogs of mud, or drifts of snow. I quite agree with the person\nwho said that Maine is a good state to come _from_.\"\n\n\"We all know, Charles, that the climate of Massachusetts, and\nparticularly of Boston, surpasses that of any other part of the\nworld,\" the lady replied with great composure.\n\nThe gentleman winced very slightly. He was one of those who\nconstantly make sarcastic observations to others, but are peculiarly\nsensitive when such are addressed to themselves. In his society, one\nwas frequently reminded of the little boy's complaint: \"Mother, make\nTommy be still. He keeps crying every time I strike him on the head\nwith the hammer.\"\n\n\"Here will be a chance to practise your famous English walks,\nMelicent,\" the father said. \"I presume the old chaise is dissolved.\nI remember it twenty years ago nodding along the road in the most\npolite manner. By the way, Amy, did you ever observe that in genuine\ncountry places people leave their defunct vehicles to decay by the\nroadside? I am not sure that there is no poetry in the custom. The\nweary wheels crumble to dust in view of the track over which they\nhave rolled in life, and are a _memento mori_ to living carriages. It\nis not unlike the monument of Themistocles 'on the watery strand.'\"\n\n\"Papa,\" exclaimed Hester, \"why didn't you say tired wheels? You\nstarted to.\"\n\n\"Because I detest a pun.\"\n\nMelicent, who had been waiting for a chance, now spoke. \"You don't\nmean to say, papa, that we shall have no carriage?\"\n\nA shrug of the shoulders was the only reply.\n\nThe young woman's face wore a look of dismay. \"But, papa!\" she\nexclaimed.\n\n\"Wait till the pumpkins grow,\" he said with a mocking smile. \"I will\ngive you the largest one, and your mother will furnish the mice. I\ndon't doubt there are mice, and to spare.\"\n\n\"You don't mean that we must walk everywhere?\" his daughter cried.\n\n\"Dear me, Melicent, how persistent you are!\" interrupted Clara\nimpatiently. \"One would think there was no need of borrowing\ntrouble.\"\n\nThe elder sister gazed with an air of superiority at the younger. \"I\nwas speaking to papa,\" she remarked with dignity.\n\nThe father frowned, the mother raised a deprecating hand, and the\nimminent retort was hushed. Clara went to her brother, and, leaning\non his arm, whispered that, if Mel were not her own sister, she\nshould really get to dislike her.\n\n\"How silent you are, Owen,\" said Hester, looking around at him. \"All\nyou have done to entertain us so far has been to make faces when you\nwere sick. To be sure, that made us laugh.\"\n\n\"A sea-sick person may be the cause of wit in others, but is seldom\nhimself witty,\" was the laconic reply.\n\nThe speaker was a slim, elegant youth, with golden tints in his\nlight hair, with rather drooping and very bright blue eyes, and a\nbeautiful, sensuous mouth.\n\nEdith Yorke watched this party with interest, and the longer she\nlooked at the elder gentleman the better she liked him. His manner of\naddressing the ladies suited her inborn sense of what a gentleman's\nmanner should be. There was no contemptuous waiting before answering\nthem, no flinging the reply over his shoulder, nor growling it out\nlike a bear. Besides, she half-believed--only half, for her eyes were\nheavy with weeping and loss of sleep--that he had looked kindly at\nher. Once she was sure that he spoke of her to his wife, but she did\nnot know what he said. It was this: \"My dear, do you observe that\nchild? She has an uncommon face.\"\n\nThe lady glanced across the room and nodded. She was too much\npreoccupied to think of anything but their own affairs. But her\nhusband, on whom these affairs had the contrary effect of driving\nhim to seek distraction, approached Edith.\n\n\"Little girl,\" he said, \"you remind me so much of some one I have\nseen that I would like to know your name, if you please to tell it.\"\n\n\"My name is Edith Eug\u00e9nie Yorke,\" she replied, with perfect\nself-possession.\n\nHe had bent slightly toward her in speaking, but at sound of the name\nhe stood suddenly upright, his sallow face turned very red, and he\nlooked at her with a gaze so piercing that she shrank from it. \"Who\nwere your father and mother?\" he demanded.\n\n\"My mother was Eug\u00e9nie Lubormirski, a Polish exile, and my father\nwas Mr. Robert Yorke, of Boston,\" said Edith. Her eyes were fixed\nintently on the gentleman's face, and her heart began to beat quickly.\n\nHe turned away from her and resumed his walk, but, after a minute,\ncame back again. \"Your father and mother are both dead?\" he asked in\na gentler tone.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\n\"You have no brothers nor sisters?\"\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Who takes care of you?\"\n\n\"Mrs. Jane Rowan,\" Edith replied, laying her hand on the widow's lap.\n\nHe bowed, taking this for an introduction, a cold but courteous bow.\n\n\"May I ask, madam,\" he inquired, \"what claim you have on this child?\"\n\nMrs. Rowan had shown some agitation while this conversation was going\non, and when Edith put out her hand, she grasped it as if meaning\nto hold on to the child. Her reply was made in a somewhat defiant\ntone. \"When Mrs. Robert Yorke died, she asked me to have pity on her\ndaughter, and keep her out of the poor-house. I have taken care of\nher ever since. The Yorkes had turned them off.\"\n\nThe gentleman drew himself up, and put out his under lip. \"Thank you\nfor the information,\" he said bitterly. Then to Edith, \"Come, child,\"\nand took her hand.\n\nShe allowed him to lead her across the room to his wife.\n\n\"Mrs. Yorke,\" he said, \"this is my brother Robert's orphan child!\"\n\nThere was a slight sensation and a momentary pause; but the lady\nrecovered immediately. \"I am glad to see you, dear,\" she said in a\nkind voice. \"Who is that person?\" she added to her husband, glancing\nat Mrs. Rowan.\n\nThe widow was staring at them angrily, and seemed on the point of\ncoming to take Edith away by force.\n\n\"One who has taken care of the child since her mother's death, Amy,\"\nhe answered. \"She has no claim on my niece, and will, of course, give\nher up to us. The little girl is named for my mother. Robert was\nalways fond of mother.\"\n\nThere was a pause of embarrassed silence.\n\n\"You must perceive that there is no other way,\" Mr. Yorke continued\nwith some state. \"Aside from natural affection and pity for the\nchild's friendless condition, an Edith Yorke must not be allowed to\ngo about the country like a Gypsy with a shawl over her head.\"\n\n\"It is just as papa says,\" Melicent interposed, and immediately took\nEdith by the hand and kissed her cheek. \"You are my little cousin,\nand you will go home and live with us,\" she said sweetly.\n\nMiss Yorke's manner was very conciliating; but her suavity proceeded\nless from real sweetness than from self-complacency. She prided\nherself on knowing and always doing what was _comme il faut_, and\ntook great pleasure in being the mould of form.\n\n\"I shall go with Dick! I am going to live with Dick!\" Edith cried,\nsnatching her hand away. A blush of alarm overspread her face, and\nshe looked round in search of her protector. At that moment he\nappeared in the door, paused in surprise at seeing where Edith was,\nthen went to his mother.\n\n\"The Yorkes have got her,\" Mrs. Rowan said to him, breathless with\nexcitement. \"That is Mr. Charles Yorke. I knew him the moment I set\neyes on him.\"\n\nDick wheeled about and faced them. Edith, too proud to run away,\nlooked at him imploringly.\n\nThen Miss Melicent Yorke arose, like the goddess of peace, adjusted\nher most impregnable smile, and sailed across the room. \"I am Miss\nYorke,\" she said brightly, as though such an announcement would be\nsure to delight them. \"Of course, the dear little Edith is my cousin.\nIs it not the strangest thing in the world that we should have met in\nsuch a way? I am sure we shall all feel deeply indebted to you for\nhaving protected the child while we knew nothing of her necessities.\nOf course, we should have sent for her directly if we had known. But,\nas it is, we have the pleasure of meeting you.\"\n\nPausing, Miss Yorke looked at the two as if they were the dearest\nfriends she had on earth and it gave her heartfelt joy to behold\ntheir countenances.\n\nDick choked with the words he would have uttered. He felt keenly the\ninsolence of her perfectly confident and smiling address, yet knew\nnot how to defend himself. If a man had been in her place, he could\nhave met his airy assumption with a sufficiently blunt rebuff; but\nthe young sailor was chivalric, and could not look a woman in the\nface and utter rude words. His mother's emotion did not prevent her\nreplying, and, fortunately, to the point.\n\n\"Do you mean to say,\" Mrs. Rowan exclaimed, \"that you are going to\ntake Edith away from us without leave or license, after we have\nsupported her four years without your troubling yourselves whether\nshe starved in the street or not?\"\n\nFor a moment, Miss Yorke's social poniard wavered before this broad\nthrust, but only for a moment. \"Every family has its own private\naffairs, which no one else has either the power or the right to\ndecide upon,\" she said smilingly. \"All I need say of ours is that,\nif Mr. Yorke, my father, had known that his brother left a child\nunprovided for, he would have adopted her without delay. He did not\nknow it till this minute, and his first thought is that there is\nonly one proper course for him. His niece must be under his care,\nas her natural protector, and must have the advantages of education\nand society to which she is entitled. I am sure you would both be\nfriendly enough to her to wish her to occupy her rightful position.\nAs for any expense you may have gone to on her account, papa--\"\n\n\"Stop there, madam!\" Dick interrupted haughtily. \"We will say no\nmore about that, if you please. As to Edith's going with you, she\nshall choose for herself. I don't deny that it seems to be the proper\nthing; but allow me to say that it was my intention to give her a\ngood home and a good education, such as no girl need be ashamed of. I\nwill speak to Edith, and see what she thinks about it.\"\n\nHe turned unceremoniously away from Miss Yorke's protestations, and\nwent to the door, beckoning Edith to follow him. As he looked back,\nwaiting for her, he saw that the whole family had gone over in a body\nto talk to his mother.\n\nEdith clasped the hand he held out to her, and looked up into his\nface with large tears flashing in her eyes.\n\n\"I wouldn't leave you if they would give me all the world!\" she\nexclaimed.\n\nHe smiled involuntarily, but would not take advantage of her\naffectionate impulse. He saw clearly that her true place was with\nher relatives. They could do for her at once what he could do only\nafter years of weary labor. Perhaps they could do at once what he\ncould never do. But it was hard to give her up. Down in the bottom\nof his heart was a thought which he had never fully acknowledged the\npresence of, but of which he was always conscious: he had meant to\nbring the child up to be his wife some day, if she should be willing;\nto load her with benefits; to be the one to whom she should owe\neverything. But with the pang it cost him to put this hope in peril\ncame the glimpse of a possibility how far more triumphant! Following\nhis own plan, he should be hedging her in; giving her up now would\nbe making her free choice, if it should fall on him, an infinitely\ngreater boon. Besides, and above all, it was right that she should go.\n\nDick leaned back against the wall of the building, and folded his\narms while he talked to her. At first Edith broke into reproaches\nwhen she learned that he meant to give her up, but immediately an\ninstinct of feminine pride and delicacy checked the words upon her\nlips. It was impossible for her to press her society on one who\nvoluntarily relinquished it. She listened to her sentence in silence.\n\n\"So you see, Edith,\" he concluded, \"we must make up our minds to\npart.\"\n\nShe perceived no such necessity, but did not tell him so. \"Then I\nshall never see you any more!\" she said in a whisper, without looking\nup.\n\nDick's eyes sparkled with resolution through the tears that filled\nthem. \"Yes, you will!\" he exclaimed. \"I mean to do the best I can for\nmother and myself, and you shall not be ashamed of us. And however\nhigh they may set you, Edith, I'll climb! I'll climb! I won't be so\nfar off but I can reach you!\"\n\nThe coach had taken its first load of passengers to the village, and\nnow came down to bring those who were to take the steamer and carry\nthe Yorkes back. It was time to go on board. Dick stepped to the door\nof the waiting-room. \"Come, mother!\" he said. \"Edith and I will see\nyou to your state-room, and then I will bring her back. She is to go\nwith her uncle.\"\n\nHe was not surprised to see that his mother had been completely\ntalked over by Edith's relations, and that, though tearful, no\nopposition was to be expected from her. They seemed to be the best\nof friends; and when the widow rose to take leave of them, Mr.\nYorke himself escorted her to the boat. In fact, it was all very\ncomfortably settled, as Miss Yorke observed to her mother when they\nhad taken their seats in the coach.\n\nWhen Edith and Dick appeared again, hand in hand, Mr. Yorke stood at\nthe coach-door, waiting to assist his niece to her place.\n\n\"How picturesque!\" Clara Yorke exclaimed, as the two stepped over\nthe planks and came toward them. \"It is like something out of the\n_Arabian Nights_. He is Sindbad, and she is one of those princesses\nwho were always getting into such ridiculous situations and\ndifficulties. The child is absurd, of course, but she is lovely; and\nthe young man is really very fine--of his kind.\"\n\nSindbad and his princess were both very pale. \"Sir,\" the sailor said,\npresenting the child to her uncle, \"I hope she will be as happy with\nyou as I and my mother would have tried to make her.\"\n\nAs he released her hand, Edith's face suddenly whitened. All her\nlittle world was slipping away from beneath her feet.\n\nMr. Yorke was touched and impressed. He liked the young man's\ndignity. \"I must compliment you, sir, on your honorable conduct in\nthis affair,\" he said. \"Let us hear from you; and come to see us\nwhenever you are in our neighborhood.\"\n\nDick Rowan, in his turn, would have been touched by this unexpected\ncordiality, had not a slight raising of Miss Melicent Yorke's\neyebrows neutralized its effect. The young woman thought that\nher father was really condescending unnecessarily. That faint,\nsupercilious surprise checked the young man's gratitude, and he was\nturning away with a cold word of thanks, when Mrs. Yorke called him\nback. She was leaning from the carriage, and held out her hand to him.\n\n\"Good-by, Mr. Rowan!\" she said aloud. \"You need not fear that we\nshall not cherish this orphan whom you have kindly protected so\nfar, and you need not fear that we shall try to make her forget\nyou. Ingratitude is the vice of slaves. I am sure she will never be\nungrateful to you.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" Dick said fervently, melted by the kind smile and\ntremulous sweetness of tone. It was none of Miss Melicent's\nexasperating affability.\n\n\"And I have a favor to ask,\" she added, leaning still further out,\nand lowering her voice so that only he could hear. \"I take for\ngranted that you will write to my niece. Will you allow her to let me\nread your letters?\"\n\nDick blushed deeply as he stammered out another \"Thank you!\" It was a\ndelicately given warning and kindly given permission. It showed him,\nmoreover, that the lady's soft eyes had looked to the bottom of his\nheart. At that moment he was glad that the ring on Edith's finger was\nCaptain Cary's gift, not his.\n\n\"I would like to see the steamboat just as long as it is in sight,\"\nEdith said faintly.\n\nHer uncle immediately gave orders to the driver to take them round to\na place from which they could look down to the entrance of the bay.\n\nThe boat steamed out over the water, glided like a swan down the bay,\nand soon disappeared around a curve that led to the Narrows. Edith\ngazed immovably after it, unconscious that they were all watching\nher. When it was no longer visible, she closed her eyes, and sank\nback into Mrs. Yorke's arms.\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nTHE OLD HOME.\n\nMrs. Charles Yorke was a native of Seaton; her maiden name, Arnold.\nHer mother had died while Amy was quite young, and in a few years the\nfather married again. This marriage was an unfortunate one for the\nfamily; and not only the daughter but many of Mr. Arnold's friends\nhad tried to dissuade him from it. Their chief argument was not that\nthe person whom he proposed to marry was a vulgar woman whom his lost\nwife would not have received as an acquaintance, but that she was in\nevery way unworthy of him, and would be a discreditable connection.\nThey met the fate which usually awaits such interference. Truth\nitself never appears so true as varnished falsehood does. Mr. Arnold\nwas flattered and duped; and the end of the affair was that Amy had\nthe misery of seeing his deceiver walk triumphantly into her mother's\nsacred place. Nor was this all. In a moment of weakness, the father\nbetrayed to his new wife the efforts that had been made to separate\nthem, and she half-guessed, half-drew from him every name. From that\nmoment her instinctive jealous dislike of her step-daughter was\nturned to hatred.\n\nHad the young girl been wise, she would have known that her\nonly proper course was to withdraw from the field; but she was\ninexperienced and passionate, and had no better adviser than her\nown heart. Had she been a Catholic, she could have found in the\nconfessional the confidant and counsel she needed; but she was not.\nIn Seaton there were no Catholics above the class of servants and\nday-laborers. She was left, therefore, completely to herself, and\nin the power of an unscrupulous and subtle tormentor. Miserable,\nindignant, and desperate, the young girl descended to the contest,\nand at every step she was defeated. She called on her father for\nprotection; but he saw nothing of her trials, or was made to believe\nthat she had herself provoked them. It was the old story of adroit\ndeceit arrayed against impolitic sincerity. But, happily, the\ncontest was not of long duration.\n\nAmy was not a person to remain in a position so false and degrading.\nThere came a time when, quite as much to her own surprise as to\ntheirs, she had nothing more to say. But their surprise was that she\ncontended no longer, hers that she had contended so long. The way was\nclear before her, and her plans were soon made. Her father had an\nunmarried cousin living in Boston, and this lady consented to receive\nher. Only on the day preceding her departure did she announce her\nintentions. The sufferings she had undergone were a sufficient excuse\nfor her abruptness. She had become too much weakened and excited to\nbear any controversy upon the subject. Besides, the parting from\nher father, if prolonged, would have been unbearable. She must tear\nherself away.\n\nHe sat a moment with downcast eyes after she had communicated to him\nher design. His face expressed emotion. He seemed both pained and\nembarrassed, and quite at a loss what to say. In fact, his wife had\nproposed this very plan, and was anxious that Amy should go, and he\nhad entertained the project. Therefore he could not express surprise.\nFor the first time, perhaps, a feeling of shame overcame him. He was\nobliged to deceive! His pride, revolting at that shame, made him\nimpatient. Unwilling to acknowledge himself in the wrong, he wished\nto appear injured.\n\n\"If you mean to deprive me of my only child, and would rather live\nwith strangers than with your own father, I will not oppose you,\" he\nsaid. \"But I think you might have shown some confidence in me, and\ntold me your wishes before.\"\n\nAmy's impulse had been, at the first sight of his emotion, to throw\nherself into his arms, and forgive him everything, or take upon\nherself all the blame. But at these words she recoiled. Her silence\nwas better than any answer could have been.\n\n\"I don't blame you, child,\" her father resumed, blushing for the\nevasion he had practised. \"It would be cruel of me to wish you to\nstay in a home where you cannot live in peace. I am grieved, Amy, but\nI can do nothing. What can a man do between women who disagree?\"\n\n\"Find out which is wrong!\" was the answer that rose to her lips, but\nshe suppressed it. She had already exhausted words to him. She had\npoured out her pain, her love, her entreaties, and they had been to\nhim as the idle wind. She had been wronged and insulted, and he would\nnot see it. She turned away with a feeling of despair.\n\n\"At least, let us part as a father and daughter should,\" he said in a\ntrembling voice.\n\nShe held out one hand to him, and with the other covered her face,\nunable to utter a word; then broke away, and shut herself into her\nchamber. There are times when entire reparation only is tolerable,\nand we demand full justice, or none.\n\nSo they parted, and never met again, though they corresponded\nregularly, and wrote kind if not confidential letters. The only\nsign the daughter ever had of any change of opinion in her father\nregarding the cause of their separation was when he requested her to\nsend her letters to his office and not to the house. After that they\nboth wrote more freely.\n\nIn her new home, Amy did not find all sunshine. Miss Clinton was\nold and notional, and had too great a fondness for thinking for\nothers as well as herself. Consequently, when the young lady favored\nthe addresses of a poor artist who had been employed to paint her\nportrait, there was an explosion. With her father's consent, Amy\nmarried Carl Owen, and her cousin discarded her. There was one year\nof happiness; then the young husband died, and left his wife with an\ninfant son.\n\nIn her trouble, Mrs. Owen made the acquaintance of Mrs. Edith Yorke,\nwho became to her a helpful friend; and in little more than a year\nshe married that lady's eldest son, Charles. From that moment her\nhappiness was assured. She found herself surrounded by thoroughly\ncongenial society, and blest with the companionship of one who was\nto her father, husband, and brother, all she had ever lost or longed\nfor. Mr. Yorke adopted her son as his own, and, so far from showing\nany jealousy of his predecessor, was the one to propose that the boy\nshould retain his own father's name in addition to the one he adopted.\n\nAs daughters grew up around them, he appeared to forget that Carl was\nnot his own son, at least so far as pride in him went. Probably he\nshowed more fondness for his girls.\n\nMr. Arnold died shortly after his daughter's second marriage, and his\nwife followed him in a few years. By their death Mrs. Yorke became\nthe owner of her old home. But she had no desire to revisit the scene\nof so much misery, and for years the house was left untenanted in the\ncare of a keeper. Nor would they ever have gone there, probably, but\nfor pecuniary losses which made them glad of any refuge.\n\nMr. Charles Yorke appreciated the value of money, and knew admirably\nwell how to spend it; but the acuteness which can foresee and make\nbargains, and the unscrupulousness which is so often necessary to\ninsure their success, he had not. Consequently, when in an evil hour\nhe embarked his inherited wealth in speculation, it was nearly all\nswept away.\n\nCreditors, knowing his probity, offered to wait.\n\n\"Why should I wait?\" he asked. \"Will my debts contract as the cold\nweather comes on? I prefer an immediate settlement.\"\n\nNot displeased at his refusal to profit by their generosity, they\nhinted at a willingness to take a percentage on their claims.\n\n\"A percentage!\" cried the debtor. \"Am I a swindler? Am I a beggar?\nI shall pay a hundred per cent., and I recommend you in your future\ndealings with me to bear in mind that I am a gentleman and not an\nadventurer.\"\n\nA very old-fashioned man was Mr. Charles Yorke, and a very hard man\nto pity.\n\nBehold him, then, and his family _en route_ for their new home.\n\nWe have said that the two principal streets of the town of Seaton\ncrossed each other at right angles, one running north and south along\nthe river, the other running east and west across the river. These\nroads carried themselves very straightly before folks, but once out\nof town, forgot their company manners, and meandered as they chose,\nsplintered into side-tracks, and wandered off in vagabond ways. But\nthe south road, that passed by the Rowans', was the only one that\ncame to nothing. The other three persisted till they each found a\nvillage or a city, twenty-five miles or so away. Half a mile from\nthe village centre, on North Street, a very respectable-looking\nroad started off eastward, ran across a field, and plunged into\nthe forest that swept down over a long smooth rise from far-away\nregions of wildness. Following this road half a mile, one saw at the\nleft a tumble-down stone wall across an opening, with two gates,\npainted black in imitation of iron, about fifteen rods apart. A\nlittle further on, it became visible that an avenue went from gate\nto gate, enclosing a deep half-circle of lawn, on which grew several\nfair enough elms and a really fine maple. After such preliminaries\nyou expect a house; and there it is at the head of the avenue, a\nwidespread building, with a cupola in the centre, a portico in front,\nand a wing at either side. It is elevated on a deep terrace, and\nhas a background of woods, and woods at either hand, only a little\nremoved.\n\nTo be consistent, this house should be of stone, or, at least, of\nbrick; but it is neither. Still, it would not be right to call it a\n\"shingle palace;\" for its frame is a massive network of solid oaken\nbeams, and it is strong enough to bear unmoved a shock that would\nset nine out of every ten modern city structures rattling down into\ntheir cellars. When Mrs. Yorke's grandfather built this house, in the\nyear 1800, English ideas and feelings still prevailed in that region;\nand in building a house, a gentleman thought of his grandchildren,\nwho might live in it. Now nobody builds with any reference to his\ndescendants.\n\nBut Mr. Arnold's plans had proved larger than his purse. The park\nhe meant to have had still remained three hundred acres of wild,\nunfenced land, the gardens never got beyond a few flowers, now choked\nwith weeds, and the kitchen-garden, kept alive by Patrick Chester,\nMrs. Yorke's keeper. As for the orchard, it never saw the light. Mrs.\nYorke's father had done the place one good turn, for he had planted\nvines everywhere. Their graceful banners, in summer-time, draped the\nportico, the corners of the house, the dead oak-tree by the western\nwing, and swept here and there over rock, fence, or stump.\n\nBack of the house, toward the right, was a huge barn and a granary;\nthe eaves of both under-hung with a solid row of swallows' nests. On\nthis bright April morning, the whole air was full of the twirl and\ntwitter of these birds, and with the blue glancing of their wings\nsome invisible crystalline ring seemed to have been let down from\nthe heavens over and around the house, and they followed its outline\nin their flight. But the homely, bread-and-butter robins had no such\nmystical ways. They flew or hopped straight where they wanted to go,\nand what they wanted to get was plainly something to eat. One of them\nalighted on the threshold of the open front-door and looked curiously\nin. He saw a long hall, with a staircase on one side, and open doors\nto right and left and at the furthest end. All the wood-work, walls,\nand ceilings in sight were dingy, and rats and mice had assisted\ntime in gnawing away; but the furniture was bright, and three fires\nvisible through the three open doors were brighter still. Redbreast\nseemed to be much interested in these fires. Probably he was a bird\nfrom the city, and had never seen such large ones. Those in the\nfront rooms were large enough, but that in the kitchen was something\nimmense, and yet left room at one side of the fireplace for a person\nto sit and look up chimney, if so disposed.\n\n\"_Bon!_\" says the bird, with a nod, hopping in, \"the kitchen is the\nplace to go to. As to those flowers and cherries on the floor, I am\nnot to be cheated by them. They are not good to eat, but only to walk\non. I am a bird of culture and society. I know how people live. I am\nnot like that stupid chicken.\"\n\nFor a little yellow chicken, without a sign of tail, had followed the\nrobin in, and was eagerly pecking at the spots in the carpet.\n\nThe bird of culture hopped along to the door at the back of the hail,\nand paused again to reconnoitre. Here a long, narrow corridor ran\nacross, with doors opening into the front rooms, and one into the\nkitchen, and a second stairway at one end. Three more hops brought\nthe bird to the threshold of the kitchen-door, where a third pause\noccurred, this one not without trepidation; for here in the great\nkitchen a woman stood at a table with a pan of potatoes before her.\nShe had washed them, and was now engaged in partially paring them\nand cutting out any suspicious spots that might be visible on the\nsurfaces. \"It takes me to make new potatoes out of old ones!\" she\nsaid to herself with an air of satisfaction, tossing the potato in in\nher hand into a pan of cold water.\n\nThis woman was large-framed and tall, and over forty years of age.\nShe had a homely, sensible, pleasant, quick-tempered face, and the\nbase of her nose was an hypothenuse. Her dark hair was drawn back and\nmade into a smooth French twist, with a shell comb stuck in the top\na little askew. It is hard to fasten one of those twists with the\ncomb quite even, if it has much top to it. This comb had much top.\nThe woman's face shone with washing; she wore a straightly-fitting\ncalico gown and a white linen collar. The gown was newly done up and\na little too stiff, and to keep it from soil she had doubled the\nskirt up in front and pinned it behind, and tied on a large apron.\nFor further safeguard, the sleeves were turned up and pinned to the\nshoulder by the waistbands. At every movement she made these stiff\nclothes rattled.\n\nThis woman was Miss Betsey Bates. She had lived at Mr. Arnold's when\nMiss Amy was a young girl, had left when she left, and was now come\nback to live with her again.\n\n\"Just let your water bile,\" Betsey began, addressing an imaginary\naudience--\"let your water bile, and throw in a handful of salt; then\nwash your potatoes clean; peel 'em all but a strip or two to hold\ntogether; cut out the spots, and let 'em lay awhile in cold water;\nwhen it's time to cook 'em, throw 'em into your biling water, and\nclap on your lid; then--\"\n\nBetsey stopped suddenly and looked over her shoulder to listen, but,\nhearing no carriage-wheels nor human steps, resumed her occupation.\nShe did not perceive the two little bipeds on the threshold of the\ndoor, where they were listening to her soliloquy with great interest,\nthough it was the chicken's steps that had attracted her attention.\nThat silly creature, dissatisfied with his worsted banquet, had\nhopped along to the robin's side, where he now stood with a hungry\ncrop, round eyes, and two or three colored threads sticking to his\nbill.\n\nBetsey's thoughts took a new turn. \"I must go and see to the fires,\nand put a good beach chunk on each one. There's a little chill in the\nair, and everybody wants a fire after a journey. It looks cheerful.\nI've got six fires going in this house. What do you think of that? To\nmy idea, an open fire in a strange house is equal to a first cousin,\nsometimes better.\"\n\nHere a step sounded outside the open window behind the table, and\nPat Chester appeared, a stout, fine-looking, red-faced man, with\nmischievous eyes and an honest mouth. Curiously enough, the base of\nhis nose also was an hypothenuse. Otherwise there was no resemblance\nbetween the two. Betsey used to say to him, \"Pat, the ends of our\nnoses were sawed off the wrong way.\"\n\n\"Who are you talking to?\" asked Pat, stopping to look in and laugh.\n\n\"Your betters,\" was the retort.\n\n\"I don't envy 'em,\" said Pat, and went on about his business.\n\n\"And I must see to them clocks again,\" pursued Betsey. \"The idea of\nhaving a clock in every room in the house! It takes me half of my\ntime to set 'em forward and back. As to touching the pendulums of\nsuch clocks as them, you don't catch me. But I do abominate to see\none mantelpiece a quarter past and another quarter of at the same\ntime.\"\n\nHere a little peck on the floor arrested Betsey's attention, and,\nstretching her neck, she saw the chicken, and instantly flew at it\nwith a loud \"shoo!\" With its two bits of wings extended and its head\nadvanced as far as possible, the little wretch fled through the hall,\npeeping with terror. But the robin flew up and escaped over Betsey's\nhead. \"Laud sakes!\" she cried, holding on to her comb and her eyes,\n\"who ever saw a chicken fly up like that?\"\n\nWondering over this phenomenon, Betsey went up-stairs and replenished\nthe fires in three chambers, and set some of the clocks forward and\nothers back, then hurried down to perform the same duties below\nstairs. Just as she set the last hour-hand carefully at nine o'clock,\nPat put his head in at the dining-room window. \"It's time for 'em to\nbe here,\" he said, \"and I'm going down to the gate to watch. I'll\ngive a whistle the minute they come in sight.\"\n\nImmersed in her own thoughts, Betsey had jumped violently at sound\nof his voice. \"I do believe you're possessed to go round poking your\nhead in at windows, and scaring people out of their wits!\" she cried,\nwith a frightened laugh. \"Here I came within an ace of upsetting\nthis clock or going into the fire.\"\n\nPat laughed back--he and Betsey were always scolding and always\nlaughing at each other--muttered something about skittish women, and\nwalked off down the avenue to watch for the family.\n\n\"I believe everything is ready,\" Betsey said, looking round. She took\noff her apron, took down her skirt and sleeves, and gave herself\na general crackling smoothing over. Then suddenly she assumed an\namiable smile, looked straight before her, dropped a short courtesy,\nand said, \"How do you do, Mrs. Yorke? I hope I see you well. How do\nyou do, sir? How do you do, miss? I wonder if I had better go out\nto the door when they come, or stand in the entry, or stay in the\nkitchen. I declare to man I don't know what to do! How do you do,\nma'am?\" beginning her practising again, this time before the glass.\n\"I hope I see you well. To think of my not being married at all, and\nher having grown-up children!\" she said, staring through the window.\n\"The last time I saw her, she was a pretty creature, as pale as a\nsnow-drop. Poor thing! she had a hard time of it with that Jezebel.\nShe never said anything to me, nor I to her; but many a time she has\ncome to me when that woman has been up to her tricks, and held on to\nme, and gasped for breath. 'O my heart! my heart!' she'd say. 'Don't\nspeak to me, Betsey, but hold me a minute!' It was awful to see her\nwhite face, and to feel her heart jump as if it would tear itself\nout. That was the way trouble always took hold of her.\"\n\nShe mused a moment longer, then broke off suddenly, and began anew\nher practice. \"How do you do, ma'am? I hope I see you well.\"\n\nPresently a loud, shrill whistle interrupted her. Betsey rushed\nexcitedly into the kitchen, dashed her potatoes into the kettle,\ntied on a clean apron that stood out like cast-iron with starch, and\nhovered in the rear of the hall, to be ready for advance or retreat,\nas occasion might demand.\n\nThe old yellow coach came through the gate, up the muddy avenue,\nand drew up at the steps. The two gentlemen got out first, then the\nyoung ladies, and all stood around while Mrs. Yorke slowly alighted.\nShe was very pale, but smiled kindly on them, then took her son's\narm, and went up the steps. Mr. Yorke stopped to offer his hand to\na little girl who still remained in the coach. \"My sakes!\" muttered\nBetsey. \"If it isn't that Rowan young one!\"\n\n\"Mother dear,\" said the son, \"it is possible to make a very beautiful\nplace of this.\"\n\nShe looked at him with a brightening smile. \"You think so, Carl?\"\nShe had been anxiously watching what impression the sight of her old\nhome would make on her family, and exaggerating its defects in her\nown imagination, as she fancied they were doing in theirs. Their\nsilence so far had given her a pang, since she interpreted it to mean\ndisappointment, when in truth it had meant solicitude for her. They\nthought that she would be agitated on coming again to her childhood's\nhome after so long an absence. So she was; but her own peculiar\nmemories gave precedence to that which concerned those dearest to her.\n\n\"Besides, mother,\" Owen continued, \"this spot has a charm for me\nwhich no other could have, however beautiful: it is _yours_.\"\n\nThat word conveyed the first intimation Mrs. Yorke had ever received\nthat her son felt his dependence on a stepfather. But the pain the\nknowledge caused her was instantly banished by the recollection that\nthe cause of his uneasiness was now removed.\n\n\"My great-grandfather had ideas, though he did not carry them out,\"\nremarked Melicent. \"If he had built his house of stone, it would have\ndone very well. It is astonishing that he did not. But the earlier\nsettlers in this country seemed to revel in wood, probably because it\nhad been to them in the Old World a luxury. With heaps of stones at\nhand, they would persist in building their houses of logs.\"\n\nAt this point Betsey rushed out to welcome Mrs. Yorke. The sight of\nthat pale face which seemed to be looking for her, and the slight,\nclinging form that used to cling to her, quite overcame her shyness.\n\n\"You dear creature, how glad I am to see you once more!\" she cried\nout. And, seizing the lady by the shoulders, gave her a resounding\nkiss on the cheek.\n\n\"Please do not touch Mrs. Yorke's left arm. It gives her\npalpitation,\" said the son rather stiffly.\n\nYoung Mr. Owen had an invincible repugnance to personal\nfamiliarities, especially from inferiors.\n\n\"Dear Betsey, this is my son,\" the mother said proudly, looking at\nher manly young escort, as if to see him anew with a stranger's\nadmiring eyes. \"Carl has heard me speak of you many a time, my old\nfriend!\"\n\nBetsey immediately dropped a solemn courtesy. \"I hope I see you well,\nsir!\" she said, remembering her manners.\n\n\"This must be Betsey Bates!\" cried Miss Melicent, coming forward with\ngreat cordiality. \"Mamma has spoken of you so often I knew you at\nonce.\"\n\nMiss Yorke did not say that she recognized Betsey by her nose,\nthough that was the fact. The impression left on the woman's mind\nwas of something highly complimentary, that some air expressive of\nhonesty, faithfulness, and affection, or some subtile personal grace\nnot universally acknowledged, had led to the recognition.\n\nOn the threshold of the door, Mrs. Yorke turned to receive her\nhusband. She could not utter a word; but her face expressed what she\nwould have said. In her look could be read that she placed in his\nhands all that was hers, regretting only that the gift was so small.\n\nOne saw then, too, that Mr. Yorke's sarcastic face was capable of\ngreat tenderness. As he met that mute welcome, a look of indulgent\nkindness softened his keen eyes, gave his scornful mouth a new shape,\nand lighted up his whole countenance. But he knew better than allow\nhis wife to yield to any excitement of feeling.\n\n\"Yes, Amy!\" he said cheerfully, \"I think we shall make a very\npleasant home here. Now come in and rest.\"\n\nThey went into the sitting-room at the left of the hall, and Mrs.\nYorke was seated in an arm-chair there between the fire and the\nsunshine, and they all waited on her. Hester, kneeling by her mother,\nremoved her gloves and overshoes, Clara took off her bonnet and\nshawl, and Melicent, after whispering a word to Betsey, went out with\nthat factotum, and presently returned bearing a tin cup of coffee on\nwhich a froth of cream still floated.\n\n\"I've taken a cup, mamma,\" she said, \"and I can recommend it. And\nbreakfast will be ready in two minutes.\"\n\nOwen Yorke, missing one of the company, went out, and found Edith\nstanding forlorn in the portico, biting her quivering lips, and\nstruggling to restrain the tears that threatened to overflow her\neyes. For the first time in her life the child felt timid and\ndisconcerted. She was among her own people, and they had forgotten\nher. At that moment she longed passionately for Dick Rowan, and would\nhave flown to him had it been possible.\n\n\"Come, little Gypsy!\" he said. \"You're not going to run away, I hope?\nDid you think we had forgotten you? See! I have not.\"\n\nOwen Yorke's face was very winning when he chose, and his voice\ncould express a good deal of kindness. Edith looked at him steadily\na moment, then took the hand he offered, and went into the house\nwith him. As they entered, Mrs. Yorke rose to give the child an\naffectionate welcome to her new home, and the daughters gathered\nabout her with those bright, profuse words which are so pleasant even\nwhen they mean so little.\n\nA folding-door opened from the sitting-room into the dining-room,\nwhich occupied the front half of the west wing, and here a breakfast\nwas set out that dismayed the eyes of those who were expected to\npartake of it. There was a fricassee which had cost the lives of\nthree hens of family, and occasioned a serious squabble between Pat\nand Betsey; there was a vast platter of ham and eggs, and a pyramid\nof potatoes piled so high that the first time it was touched one\nrolled off on to the cloth. Poor Betsey had no conception of the\nYorke ideal of a proper breakfast.\n\n\"The good creature has such a generous heart!\" Mrs. Yorke said,\nchecking with a glance the titter which her two younger daughters had\nnot tried to restrain. \"And I am sure that everything is delicious.\"\n\nTaking a seat at the table, Edith recollected that a trial awaited\nher. It was Friday; and abstinence from meat on that day was the\none point in her mother's religion which she knew and practised.\nOtherwise she was as ignorant of it as possible.\n\nOwen Yorke, sitting opposite, watched her curiously, perceiving\nthat something was the matter. He noticed the slight bracing of the\nmuscles of her face and neck, and that she drew her breath in like\none who is preparing for a plunge, and kept her eyes steadily fixed\non Mr. Yorke. Edith's way was to look at what she feared.\n\n\"Some of the chicken, little niece?\" her uncle asked pleasantly.\n\n\"No, sir, I do not eat meat on Friday. I am a Roman Catholic,\" the\nchild answered with precision. And, having made the announcement\nthus fully, shut her mouth, and sat pale, with her eyes fixed on Mr.\nYorke's face.\n\nA smile flashed into Owen Yorke's eyes at this reply. \"Little\nSpartan!\" he thought.\n\nEdith did not miss the slight contraction of the brows and the\ndownward twitch of the corners of the mouth in the face she watched;\nbut the signs of displeasure passed as quickly as they came. \"Then\nI am afraid you will make a poor breakfast,\" Mr. Yorke said gently.\n\"But I will do the best I can for you.\"\n\nThere was a momentary silence; then the talk went on as before. But\nthe family were deeply annoyed. It seemed enough that they should\nhave to take this little waif, with they knew not what low habits\nand associates, or what unruly fires of temper inherited from her\nmother, without having an alien religion brought into their midst.\nCatholicism as they had seen it abroad appealed to their \u00e6sthetic\nsense. It floated there in a higher atmosphere, adorned with all\nthat wealth and culture could do. But at home they preferred to keep\nit where, as a rule, they found it--in the kitchen and the stable.\n\nAfter they had returned to the sitting-room, Mr. Yorke called Edith\nto him. She went trembling; for, in spite of himself, her uncle's\nface wore a judicial look. The girls, who were just going up-stairs,\nlingered to hear what would be said, and Owen took his stand behind\nMr. Yorke's chair, and looked at the child with an encouraging smile.\n\n\"Were the family you lived with Catholics, my dear?\" the judge began.\n\n\"No, sir. Only Mr. Rowan was when he was a little boy.\"\n\n\"And Mr. Rowan wished to make a Catholic of you?\" Mr. Yorke said, his\nlip beginning to curl.\n\nThe child lifted her head. \"Mr. Rowan had nothing to say about me,\"\nshe replied. \"It was my mother.\"\n\nA slight smile went round the circle. They quite approved of her\nreply.\n\n\"But you cannot recollect your mother?\" Mr. Yorke continued.\n\n\"Oh! yes,\" Edith said with animation. \"I remember how she looked, and\nwhat she said. She made me hold up my hands, and promise that I would\nbe a Roman Catholic if I had to die for it. And that was the last\nword she ever said.\"\n\nMr. Yorke gave a short nod. To his mind the matter was settled.\n\"_N'est ce pas?_\" he said to his wife.\n\nShe bowed gravely. \"There is no other way. It is impossible to ask\nher to break a promise so given. When she is older, she can choose\nfor herself.\"\n\n\"Well, you hear, girls?\" Mr. Yorke said, looking at his daughters.\n\"Now take her, and make her feel at home.\"\n\nMiss Yorke was dignified and inscrutable, Hester unmistakably cold,\nbut Clara took her cousin's hand with the utmost cordiality, and\nwas leading her from the room, when Edith stopped short, her eyes\nattracted by a cabinet portrait in oils that stood on a shelf near\nthe door. This portrait represented a young man, with one of those\nugly, beautiful faces which fascinate us, we know not why. Careless,\nprofuse locks of golden brown clustered around his head, steady,\nagate-colored eyes followed the beholder wherever he went, and seemed\nat once defying him to escape and entreating him not to go, and the\nsunshine of a hidden smile softened the curves of the mouth and chin.\n\nEdith's eyes sparkled, her face grew crimson, and she clasped her\nhands tightly on her breast.\n\n\"That is your father's portrait, my dear,\" Mrs. Yorke said, going to\nher. \"Do you recognize it?\"\n\nThe child restrained herself one moment, then she ran to the picture,\nclasped her arms around it, and kissed it over and over, weeping\npassionately. \"It is mine! It is mine!\" she cried out, when her aunt\ntried to soothe her.\n\n\"You are right, dear!\" Mrs. Yorke said, much affected. \"I am sure no\none will object to your having the portrait. You may take it to your\nown chamber, if you wish.\"\n\nEdith controlled herself, wiped her eyes, and put the picture down.\n\"Dear Aunt Amy,\" she said, \"you know I want it; but I won't take it\nunless you and Uncle Charles are quite willing.\"\n\nIt was touching, her first acknowledgment of kinship, and expression\nof trust and submission. They cordially assured her of their\nwillingness, kissed her again in token of a closer adoption, and\nsmiled after her as she went off with her father's portrait clasped\nto her heart.\n\nMelicent and Hester still lingered. Melicent remembered faintly her\nUncle Robert's marriage, and the disagreeable feeling in the family\nat that time. It had left on her mind a prejudice against \"that\nPolish girl,\" and a shade of disfavor toward her daughter. But she\nsaid nothing.\n\n\"It will be so disagreeable having a Catholic in the family!\" Hester\ncomplained.\n\n\"Hester, listen to me!\" her father said severely. \"I want no bigotry\nnor petty persecutions in my family. Your Cousin Edith has as good\na right to her religion as you have to yours; and if either should\nfind herself disagreeably situated, it is she, for she is alone.\nDon't forget this; and don't let there be anything offensive said, or\nhinted, or looked. I mean to be consistent, and allow others the same\nfreedom which I claim myself. Now, let me hear no more of this.\"\n\nHester took refuge in tears. It was her sole argument. She was one\nof those soft creatures who require to be petted, and have a talent\nfor being abused. Possibly, too, she was a little jealous of this new\nmember of the family.\n\n\"Melicent, will you lead away this weeping nymph, and dry her tears?\"\nthe father said impatiently. \"Common sense is too robust for her\nconstitution.\"\n\nThe sisters went up-stairs, and Owen followed them presently, and\nclimbed to the cupola. Leaning on the window-sill there, he looked\noff over the country. The horizon was a ring of low blue hills, with\na grand amethyst glittering to tell where the sea lay. Through the\ncentre of this vast circle glimmered the river, silver, and gold,\nand steel-blue, and the white houses of the town lay like a heap of\nlilies scattered on its banks. Everywhere else was forest.\n\nShadows of varying thought swept over the young man's face as he\nlooked off, and drew freer breath from the distance. \"Henceforth my\nshield must bear a martlet,\" he muttered. \"But whither shall I fly?\"\n\nThat was the problem he was studying. He had come to this place only\nto see his family settled, and collect his own thoughts after their\nsudden fall from prosperity; then he would go out into the world,\nand work his own way. It was not pleasant, the change from that life\nof noble leisure and lofty work which he had planned, to one where\ncompulsory labor for mere bread must occupy the greater part of\nhis time; but it was inevitable. And as he looked abroad now, and\nbreathed the fresh air that came frolicking out of the northwest,\nand remembered how wide the world is and how many veins in it are\nunwrought, his young courage rose, and the plans he had been building\nup for that year crumbled and ceased to excite his regret.\n\nOnly a few months before their change of circumstances, his mother\nhad been won to consent that he might visit Asia. He had meant to go\nnorth, south, east, and west, in that shabby, glorious old land, make\nhimself for the nonce Tartar, Chinese, Indian, Persian, what not, and\nget a look at creation through the eyes of each. This young man's\nsympathies were by no means narrow. He had never been able to believe\nthat God smiles with peculiar fondness on any particular continent,\nisland, peninsula, or part of either, and is but a stepfather to\nthe rest of the world. He was born with a hatred of barriers. He\nsympathized with Swift, who \"hated all nations, professions, and\ncommunities, and gave all his love to individuals.\" Or, better than\nSwift, he had at least a theoretical love for mankind unfenced. He\ndid not have to learn to love, that came naturally to him; he had to\nlearn to hate. But he was a good hater. Take him all in all, Carl\nOwen Yorke was at twenty-one a noble, generous youth, of good mind\nand unstained reputation; and it was no proof of excessive vanity in\nhim that he believed himself capable of taking any position he might\nstrive for.\n\n\"My dear Minerva tells me that I have in me some of the elements of\nfailure,\" he said. \"I wonder what they are?\"\n\nThis \"dear Minerva\" was Miss Alice Mills, Mr. Robert Yorke's deserted\n_fianc\u00e9e_. She and Owen were very close friends. It was one of those\nfriendships which sometimes grow up between a woman whose youth\nis past and a youth whose manhood has scarcely arrived. Such a\nfriendship may effect incalculable good or incalculable harm, as the\nwoman shall choose.\n\n\"Well,\" he concluded, not caring to puzzle over the riddle, \"she will\nexplain, I suppose, when she writes. And if anybody can get at the\ncube-root of the difficulty, she can.\"\n\nMeantime, while the son was musing, and the daughters were selecting\ntheir chambers, and making up a toilet for Edith, Mr. Yorke had sent\nfor Patrick Chester in the sitting-room, and was questioning him\nconcerning Catholic affairs in Seaton. They did not seem to be in a\nflourishing condition.\n\nThere was no priest settled there, Patrick said; but one came over\nfrom B---- once in two months, and said Mass for them. They had no\nchurch yet, but a little chapel, what there was left of it.\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\" his master asked.\n\n\"Why, sir, some of the Seaton rowdies got into the chapel, one night,\nnot long ago, and smashed the windows, and broke up the tabernacle,\nand destroyed the pictures entirely. And they twisted off the\ncrucifix, though it was of iron, two inches wide and half an inch\nthick. The devil must have helped the man that did it, savin' your\npresence, ma'am.\"\n\n\"Are they vandals here?\" demanded Mr. Yorke.\n\n\"There are some fine folks in Seaton,\" said Pat, who did not know\nwhat vandals are. \"But the rowdies have everything pretty much their\nown way.\"\n\n\"And is there no law in the town?\" asked Mr. Yorke wrathfully.\n\n\"There's a good many lawyers,\" said Pat, scratching his head.\n\n\"You mean to say that there was no effort made to discover and punish\nthe perpetrators of such an outrage?\" exclaimed his master.\n\n\"Indeed there was not, sir!\" Pat answered. \"People knew pretty well\nwho did the mischief, and that the fellow that broke off the crucifix\nwas taken bleeding at the lungs just after; but nobody molested 'em.\nIt wouldn't be well for the one who would lift his voice against the\nSeaton rowdies. Why, some of 'em belong to as wealthy families as\nthere are in town. They began with a cast-iron band years ago, and\neverybody laughed at 'em. All the harm they did was to wake people\nout of sleep. Then they broke up a lecture. It was a Mr. Fowle from\nBoston, who was preaching about education. And then they did a little\nmischief here and there to people they didn't like, and now they\nare too strong to put down. And, indeed, sir, when it's against the\nCatholics they are, nobody wants to put 'em down.\"\n\nMr. Yorke glanced at his wife. She did not look up nor deny\nPatrick's charges. She was a little ashamed of the character of her\nnative town in this respect; for at that time Seaton was notorious\nfor its lawlessness, and was even proud of its reputation. No great\nharm had been done, they said. It was only the boys' fun. They were\nsorry, it is true, that a respectable lecturer should have been\ninsulted; but that a Catholic chapel should be desecrated, that was\nnothing. They did not give it a second thought.\n\n\"Well, Patrick,\" Mr. Yorke resumed, \"my niece, Miss Edith Yorke, is a\nCatholic, and I wish her to have proper instruction, and to attend to\nthe services of her church when there is opportunity. Let me know the\nnext time your priest comes here, and I will call to see him. Now you\nmay go.\"\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nOUR LADY OF GUADALUPE.\n\n\nThe story and celebration of Our Lady of Guadalupe are not so\nfamiliar to Catholics, or so well appreciated by others, as to render\nuseless or uninteresting, especially in this month of Mary, an\naccount of her veneration in Mexico. What this actually, veritably\nis, no writer, so far as we are aware, has yet undertaken to show--at\nleast, from such literary evidences of popular conviction as best\nillustrate the subject. How anything supernatural could shine or\nblossom in a land of wars, robbers, Indians, is an old doubt,\nnotwithstanding that revelations have taken place in countries\nwhich needed them less than did the once idolatrous Aztecs. Let us\nnow endeavor to make clear what the true nature of the miracle of\nGuadalupe is; to exhibit its real veneration by means of testimonies\nborrowed from the worthiest Mexicans; and to prove that the faith of\nGuadalupe is not shallow, but long and well-established, widespread,\nand sincere.\n\nHere follows a brief history of the renowned miracle of Tepeyac. In\n1531, ten years after the conquest, the pious and simple Indian, Juan\nDiego, was on his way to the village of Guadalupe, near the city of\nMexico, there to receive the instructions of some reverend fathers.\nSuddenly, at the hill of Tepeyac appeared to him the Blessed Virgin,\nwho commanded her amazed client to go forthwith to the bishop, and\nmake known that she wished a church to be built in her honor upon\nthat spot. Next day the Blessed Virgin returned to hear the regret of\nJuan Diego that he could not obtain the ear of the bishop. \"Go back,\"\nsaid the Holy Lady, \"and announce that I, Mary, Mother of God, send\nthee.\" The Indian again sought his bishop, who this time required\nthat he should bring some token of the presence and command of his\npatroness. On the 12th of December, Juan Diego again saw Our Lady,\nwho ordered him to climb to the top of the barren rock of Tepeyac and\nthere gather roses for her. To his great astonishment, he found the\nroses flourishing on the rock, and brought them to his patroness, who\nthrew them into his tilma or apron, and said: \"Go back to the bishop\nand show him these credentials.\" Again came the Indian before the\nbishop, and, opening his tilma to show the roses, lo! there appeared\nimpressed upon it a marvellous image of the Blessed Virgin. The\nbishop was awestruck and overcome. The miraculous occurrence was made\nknown and proved. Processions and Masses celebrated it, and its fame\nspread far and wide. A large new cathedral was erected on the hill of\nGuadalupe, and multitudes from all parts flocked thither. Specially\nnoteworthy is the fact that the new shrine to Our Lady was erected in\nthe place where once the Indians worshipped their goddess Totantzin,\nmother of other deities, and protectress of fruits and fields. The\nmarvellous picture was found impressed upon the rudest cloth, that\nof a poor Indian's apron, the last upon which to attempt a painter's\nartifice--and hence the greater wonder, the artistic testimony\nregarding which is something formidable and wonderful in itself.\n\nWhat is known in Mexico as the Day of Guadalupe is extraordinary as\na popular manifestation. On the 12th of December every year, fifteen\nor twenty thousand Indians congregate in the village of that name to\ncelebrate the anniversary of the Marvellous Apparition. The whole way\nto the famous suburb is crowded with cabs, riders, and pedestrians of\nthe poorest sort, a great number of them bare-footed. All day there\nis an ever-moving multitude to and from the village, and, indeed, the\nmajority of the inhabitants of the city of Mexico seem to be included\nin the parties, families, and caravans of strangely contrasted people\nthat wend their way to the shrines on the hill. The most numerous\nclass of pilgrims are the saddest and the most wretched--we mean\nthe ill-clad, ill-featured, simple, devoted Indians. On them the\nluxuries of the rich, the passions of the fighters, the intrigues of\npoliticians, have borne with ruinous effect. Drudging men and women;\nhewers of wood and drawers of water; bare-breasted peasants, with\nfaces dusky and dusty, the same who any day may be seen on Mexican\nroads carrying burdens of all sorts strapped to their backs; children\nin plenty, bare, unkempt, untidy, and sometimes swaddled about their\nmothers' shoulders; numerous babes at the breast, half-nude--these\nare some of the features in a not overdrawn picture of the primitive\npoverty which assembles at Guadalupe, and, in fact, in every Mexican\nmultitude whatsoever. Perhaps nowhere outside of Mexico and the race\nof Indians can such a problem of multitudinous poverty be seen. Its\nvictims are those over whom the desert-storms of wars and feuds\ninnumerable have passed, and, spite of all their wanderings as a\nrace, they yet wear the guise and character of tribes who are still\ntrying to find their way out of a wilderness or a barren waste. Let\nenthusiasts for self-willed liberty say what they will, wars of fifty\nyears are anything but conservative of happiness, cleanliness, good\nmorals, and that true liberty which should always accompany them.\nHowever fondly we cherish our ideals of freedom, we must yet bear\nin mind the wholesome, wholesale truth of history, that no actual\nliberty is reached by the dagger and guillotine, or by massacre, or\nis founded on bad blood or bad faith. Those who lately celebrated\nthe execution of Louis XVI. and the intellectual system of murder\nestablished by Robespierre, and not totally disapproved by Mr.\nCarlyle, have good reason to be cautious as to how they offend this\nmenacing truth.\n\nA cathedral and four chapels are the principal structures of the\npicturesque hillside village of Guadalupe. By a winding ascent among\nsteep, herbless rocks, tufted here and there with the thorny green\nslabs of the cactus, is reached at some distance from the cathedral\nthe highest of the chapels, which contains the original imprint of\nthe figure of Our Lady. Looking up to the chapel from the crowd\nat the cathedral may be seen a striking picture, not unlike what\nNorthern travellers have been taught to fancy of the middle ages,\nbut the elements of which are still abundant in the civilization of\nEurope. It is simply the curious crowd of pilgrims going up and down\nthe hill, to and from the quaint old chapel, built perhaps centuries\nago. The scene from the height itself is charming and impressive.\nThe widespread valley of Mexico--including lakes, woods, villages,\nand a rich and substantial city, with towers and domes that take\nenchantment from distance--is all before the eye in one serene view\nof landscape. In the village there is a multitude like another\nIsrael, sitting in the dust or standing near the pulquerias, or\nmoving about near the church door. As Guadalupe is for the most part\ncomposed of adobe houses, and as its mass of humble visitors have\nlittle finery to distinguish their brown personages from the dust out\nof which man was originally created, the complexion of the general\nscene which they constitute can only be described as earth-like and\nearth-worn. Elsewhere than in a superficial glance at the poverty\nof Guadalupe we must seek for the meaning of its spectacle. Is this\nswarming, dull-colored scene but an animated fiction? No--it is the\nnatural seeking the supernatural. And the supernatural--what is it?\nIt is redemption and immortality, our Lord and Our Lady, the angels\nand saints.\n\nThe cathedral is a building of picturesque angles, but, except that\nit is spacious, as so many of the Mexican churches are, makes no\nparticular boast of architecture. A copy of the marvellous tilma,\nover the altar, poetically represents Our Lady in a blue cloak\ncovered with stars, and a robe said to be of crimson and gold, her\nhands clasped, and her foot on a crescent supported by a cherub. This\nis the substance of a description of it given by a traveller who\nhad better opportunities for seeing it closely than had the present\nwriter during the fiesta of Guadalupe in 1867. Whether the original\npicture is rude or not, from being impressed upon a blanket, he has\nnot personal knowledge, though aware that it has been described as\nrude. Nevertheless, its idea and design are beautiful and tender.\nEverywhere in Mexico it is the favorite and, indeed, the most lovely\npresentment of Our Lady. Like a compassionate angel of the twilight,\nit looks out of many a shrine, and, among all the images for which\nthe Mexican Church is noted, none is perhaps more essentially ideal,\nand, in that point of view, _real_. Where it appears wrought in a\nsculpture of 1686, by Francisco Alberto, on the side of San Agustin's\nat the capital, it is, though quaint, very admirable for its purity\nand gentleness. Time respects it, and the birds have built their\nnests near it. The various chapels in and about the city dedicated\nto Our Lady of Guadalupe are recognized by the star-mantled figure.\nThe Baths of the Pe\u00f1on, the cathedral at the Plaza, the suburb\nof Tacubaya, have each their pictorial witnesses of the faith of\nGuadalupe; and to say that its manifestation abounds in Mexico\nis but to state a fact of commonplace. Rich and poor venerate the\ntradition of the Marvellous Appearance, now for three centuries\ncelebrated, and always, it seems, by multitudes.\n\nWhat else is to be seen at Guadalupe besides its crowd and its\naltar is not worthy of extended remark. The organs of the cathedral\nare high and admirably carved; over the altar's porphyry columns\nare cherubim and seraphim, all too dazzling with paint and gold.\nHere, as in other places of Spanish worship, the figures of the\ncrucifixion have been designed with a painful realism. Outside of\nthe church a party of Indians, displaying gay feathers, danced in\nhonor of the feast, as their sires must have done hundreds of years\nago. Inside it was densely crowded with visitors or pilgrims, and\nfar too uncomfortable at times to make possible the most accurate\nobservation of its ornaments. But it may be well to repeat that the\nchurch is divided into three naves by eight columns, and is about two\nhundred feet long, one hundred and twenty feet broad, and one hundred\nhigh. The total cost of the building, and, we presume, its altars,\nis reckoned as high as $800,000, most of it, if not all, contributed\nby alms. The altar at which is placed the image of Our Lady is said\nto have cost $381,000, its tabernacle containing 3,257 marks of\nsilver, and the gold frame of the sacred picture 4,050 castellanos.\nThe church's ornaments are calculated to be worth more than $123,000.\nTwo of its candlesticks alone weighed 2,213 castellanos in gold, and\none lamp 750 marks of silver. To Cristobal de Aguirre, who, in 1660,\nbuilt a hermitage on the summit of Tepeyac, we owe the foundation of\nthe chapel there. It was not, however, until 1747 that Our Lady of\nGuadalupe was formally declared the patroness of the whole of Mexico.\n\nOf the many celebrations of Mexico, none are altogether as\nsignificant as that of Guadalupe. It has become national, and, in a\ncertain sense, religiously patriotic. Maximilian and Carlota, the\nwriter was informed, washed the feet of the poor near the altar of\nOur Lady, according to a well-known religious custom. The best men\nand women of Mexico have venerated the Marvellous Appearance--which,\nhowever amusing it may be to those who are scarcely as radical\nin their belief in nature as conservative in their views of the\nsupernatural, is but a circumstance to the older traditions which\nhave entered into the mind of poetry and filled the heart of worship.\nWhat of the wonderful happenings to the great fathers of the\nchurch and the medi\u00e6val saints, all worshippers of unquestionable\nsublimation? Say what you please, doubt as you may, saints, angels,\nmiracles, abide, and form the very testament of belief. There is not\na Catholic in the world who does not believe in miracle, whose faith\nis not to unbelievers a standing miracle of belief in a miracle the\nmost prodigious, the most portentous; and yet to him it has only\nbecome natural to believe in the supernatural. The Mexicans venerate\nwhat three centuries and uncounted millions have affirmed, whence it\nappears that their veneration is not a conceit or humbug, but at root\na faith. How can this be more clearly illustrated than by quoting the\nfollowing very interesting poem of Manuel Carpio, Mexico's favorite,\nif not best modern poet:\n\nTHE VIRGIN OF GUADALUPE.\n\n      The good Jehovah, dread, magnificent,\n      Once chose a people whom he called his own.\n      And out of Egypt in a wondrous way\n      He brought them in a dark and troublous night,\n      And Moses touched the Red Sea with a rod,\n      And the waves parted, offering them a path.\n      His people passed, but in the abyss remained\n      Egyptian horse and rider who pursued.\n      Marched on the flock of Jacob, and the Lord\n      Spread over them his all-protecting wings,\n      As the lone eagle shields her unfledged young.\n      He gave them lands, and victories, and spoils--\n      Glad nation! which the Master of the heavens\n      Loved as the very apple of his eye.\n      But now this people, seeing themselves blessed\n      By him whose slightest glance they not deserved,\n      Erected perishable images\n      In homage unto strange and pagan gods.\n      The Lord in indignation said: \"They wished\n      To make their Maker jealous with vain gods.\n      Bowing in dust the sacrilegious knee\n      Before the dumb creation of their hands.\n      Well, I will sting their hearts with jealousy,\n      Showing myself to all unhappy lands\n      Without employing vail or mystery.\"\n      He said it, and his solemn word fulfilled,\n      Convoking from the farthest ends of earth\n      Nations barbarian and civilized--\n      The Gaul, the Scandinavian, Roman, Greek,\n      And the neglected race of Mexico,\n      Whom the Almighty Sovereign loved so well\n      The holy truth he would reveal to them--\n      So that the hard hearts of his people should\n      Be softened. Yet his mercy was not full:\n      Down from the diamond heavens he bade descend\n      The Virgin, who with mother's sorrowing care\n      Nursed him in Bethlehem when he was a child.\n\n      Near to the tremulous Tezcoco lake\n      Rises a bare and solitary hill.\n      Where never cypress tall nor cedar grows,\n      Nor whispering oak; nor cooling fountain laves\n      The waste of herbless rocks and sterile sand--\n      A barren country 'tis, dry, dusty, sad,\n      Where the vile worm scarce drags its length along.\n\n      Here is the place where Holy Mary comes\n      Down from her home above the azure heavens\n      To show herself to Juan, who, comfortless,\n      Petitioned for relief from troubles sore.\n      Sometimes it chances that a fragrant plant\n      In the dense forest blooms unseen, unknown,\n      Though bright its virginal buds and rare its flowers;\n      So doth the modest daughter of the Lord\n      Obscure the moon, the planets, and the stars\n      Which all adorn her forehead and her feet,\n      When lends she the poor Indian her grace\n      In bounty wonderful to all his kind.\n      She tenders him the waters and the dew,\n      Prosperity of fruits and animals,\n      A heart of sensible humility,\n      And help unfailing in his future need.\n      The Angel of America resumes\n      Her radiant flight. With grateful ear he heard,\n      Twice did he wondering kneel, and twice again\n      He kissed the white feet of the holy maid.\n\n      But did not end God's providence benign:\n      The Almighty wished to leave to Mexicans\n      His Mother's likeness by his own great hand,\n      In token of the love he had for us.\n      He took the pencil, saying: \"We will make\n      In heaven's own image, as we moulded man.\n      But what was Adam to my beauteous one?\"\n      So saying, drew he with serenest face\n      The gentle likeness of the Mother-maid.\n      He saw the image, and pronounced it good.\n\n      Since then, with the encircling love of heaven,\n      A son she sees in every Mexican.\n      Mildly the wandering incense she receives,\n      Attending to his vow with human face;\n      For her the teeming vapors yield their rain\n      To the green valley and the mountain side,\n      Where bend and wave the abundant harvest fields,\n      And the green herbs that feed the lazy kine.\n      She makes the purifying breezes pass,\n      And on the restless and unsounded seas\n      She stills the rigor of the hurricane.\n      The frighted people see the approach of death\n      When the broad earth upon its axis shakes,\n      But the wild elements are put to sleep\n      With but a smile from her mild countenance.\n      And she has moved the adamantine heart\n      Of avarice, who saw decrepit age\n      Creep like an insect on the dusty earth,\n      To ope his close-shut hand, and bless the poor.\n      She maketh humbly kneel and kiss the ground\n      No less the wise than simple. She the great,\n      Dazzled by their own glory, doth advise\n      That soon their gaudy pageant shall be o'er,\n      And heaven's oblivion shall dissolve their fame.\n\n      How often has the timid, trembling maid\n      Upon the verge of ruin sought thy help,\n      Shutting her eyes to pleasure and to gold\n      At thought of thee, O Maiden pure and meek!\n      Centuries and ages will have vanished by,\n      Within their currents bearing kings and men;\n      Great monuments shall fall; the pyramids\n      Of lonely Egypt moulder in decay;\n      But time shall never place its fatal hand\n      Upon the image of the Holy Maid,\n      Nor on the pious love of Mexico.\n\nManuel Carpio, who wrote this, his first poetic composition, in 1831,\nwhen forty years of age, was a scholar and professor, and in 1824 a\ncongressman. He made the Bible, we are told, his favorite study; and\ncertainly it supplied him with the themes for his best poems. But he\nwas not the only poet of Mexico who bore earnest witness to the faith\nof which we speak. Padre Manuel Sartorio, who wrote about the time\nof Iturbide, deprecates the idea of preferring a capricious doubt\nrespecting \"la Virgen de Guadalupe\" to a constant belief founded in\ntradition. In the following lines the nature of his own belief is\nfully attested:\n\n      \"Of Guadalupe, that fair image pictured\n      Unto the venerating eye of Mexico;\n      With stars and light adorned, the figure painted\n      Of a most modest Maiden, full of grace;\n      What image is it? Copy 'tis divine\n      Of the Mother of God.\n             *       *       *       *       *\n      And what assures me this? My tender thought.\n      Who the design conceived? The holiest love.\n      Who then portrayed it? The eternal God.\"\n\nIn other lines on the same subject, Sartorio speaks of the Lady of\nGuadalupe as \"the purest rose of the celestial field,\" and pays\nspecial respect to her image in the Portal of Flowers, of which there\nis a tradition, not vulgar, of having spoken (hay tradicion no vulgar\nde haber hablado) to the Venerable Padre Zapa, in order to instruct\nthe Indians, as relates Cabrera, \"Escudo de Armas de Mexico, numero\n923.\" Who this Cabrera may be we are not aware, and cannot affirm\nthat he is identical with the great painter Cabrera, whose belief in\nOur Lady of Guadalupe was so distinct and positive.\n\nOne other poet of Mexico we shall summon to give testimony. It is\nFray Manuel Navarrete, who wrote a series of poems, well-known to his\ncountrymen, called \"Sad Moments.\" He was also the author of a number\nof tributes to the fame of Carlos IV. and Ferdinand VII., and seems\nto have possessed more influence, if not more merit as a poet, than\nPadre Sartorio. From a posthumous volume, bearing date of 1823, we\ntake the following lines, the allusions of which sufficiently explain\nat what time they were written:\n\nTO THE MOST HOLY VIRGIN UNDER THE INVOCATION OF GUADALUPE.\n\n      From her eternal palace, from the heavens,\n      One day descended to America,\n      When in its worst affliction, the great Mary,\n      Its sorrows to maternally console.\n      Behold in Tepeyac how watchfully\n      She frustrates the designs of heresy,\n      How she extinguishes the fire that flames\n      From the far French unto the Indian soil!\n      What matter, then, if proud Napoleon,\n      With his infernal hosts the world appalling,\n      Seeks to possess the land of Mexico?\n      To arms, countrymen: war, war!\n      For the sacred palladium of Guadalupe\n      Protects our native land.\n\n      The deity of peace have painters skilled\n      Portrayed with bounteous grace and elegance,\n      Painting a virgin who with fair white hands\n      An offering of tender blossoms bore.\n      Thus were their pencils' finest excellences\n      A promise and foreshadowing of this,\n      The image of Our Lady, which in heaven\n      Received its colors. Thus beheld it he,\n      The fortunate Indian, at Tepeyac,\n      That bare and desolate hill, a miracle,\n      That unto day has been perpetuate.\n      Now while the world's ablaze with lively war,\n      Seems that affrighted peace has taken refuge\n      Within the happy households of our land.\n\nHow sadly, how oddly, sounds in modern ears this felicitation of a\npoet that peace, which has left the greater part of the world, has\ntaken refuge in Mexico! Evidently our Fray Navarrete did not foresee\nthe results of the war begun by the clerical revolutionist Hidalgo.\nBut whatever may have been the political bias of this religious\nwriter, he retains the esteem of his countrymen as one of the fathers\nof their fragmentary literature.\n\nOur last witness is Miguel Cabrera, the great Mexican painter, whose\nmerits have with reason been compared by an Italian traveller, the\nCount Beltrami, to those of Correggio and Murillo. Altogether, as\ncarver, architect, and painter, the New World has not produced the\nequal in art of this extraordinary man, who wrought almost without\nmasters or models, without emulation or fitting aid and recompense,\nand whose worth has yet to be made well known to the continent which\nhe honored. But our object now is to lend the weight of this preface\nto the following statement of the Mexican writer, Se\u00f1or Orozco y\nBerra:\n\n    \"Cabrera wrote a short treatise dedicated to his\n    protector Sr. Salinas [Archbishop of Mexico] with\n    the title of _The American Marvel, and Conjunction\n    of Rare Marvels, observed with the direction of the\n    Rules of the Art of Painting, in the Miraculous\n    Image [prodigiosa imagen] of Our Lady of Guadalupe\n    of Mexico_. It is a small book in quarto, printed in\n    1756 by the press of the college of San Ildefonso, and\n    containing thirty pages, with dedication, approbations,\n    and license at the beginning, and the opinions of\n    various painters at the end. The reason given for\n    this writing was the invitation made by the abbot and\n    council of the college to the best known painters of\n    Mexico, in order that, after examining the painting on\n    cloth of Our Lady of Guadalupe, they might declare if\n    it could be the work of human hands. Cabrera was one of\n    those who joined in the examination, and in his book he\n    undertakes to show that _the Virgin is not painted in a\n    manner artificial and human_.\"\n\n\n\n\nSTATISTICS OF PROTESTANTISM IN THE UNITED STATES.\n\n\nUnder the term _Protestantism_, it is intended to comprise all\npersons of any religious sect, denomination, or church in this\ncountry, except Catholics, Jews, and Chinese. So numerous are the\ndivisions and subdivisions that our limits will permit us to present\nonly the name of each, with perhaps a word as to its distinctive\nfeatures, its numbers at different periods, and its average annual\nincrease for a given period. The given period thus selected is the\ntwenty-five years and upward preceding the year 1868; because the\nstatistics of all the denominations which are accessible, are at\npresent more complete up to that date than they have yet become up to\nany subsequent year, or even up to the present date. The statistics\nare taken entirely from Protestant sources, and chiefly from official\ndocuments published by the respective denominations. The final\nresults are then brought together, and compared with the results\npresented by the Federal census of the population at different\nperiods.\n\n1. The name \"Lutheran\" was given to the first Protestant\ndenomination, in order to designate the followers of Martin Luther.\nA part of the members of the denomination in this country have\nrecently changed their name to \"Evangelical Lutheran Church.\"\n\nThe statistics, chiefly official, of the denomination for a series of\nyears have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1823           175         900       40,000\n      1833           240       1,000       60,000\n      1841           418       1,371      145,408\n      1842           424       1,371      166,300\n      1850           663       1,604      163,000\n      1859         1,134       2,017      203,662\n      1862         1,419       2,672      284,000\n      1863         1,418       2,533      269,985\n      1864         1,543       2,765      292,723\n      1865         1,627       2,856      312,415\n      1866         1,644       2,915      323,825\n      1867         1,750       3,112      332,155\n      1868         1,792       3,182      350,088\n      1869         2,016       3,330      376,567\n      1870         2,211       3,537      392,721\n\nThe average annual increase during a series of years (ending always\nwith 1867) has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 44 years     36          50        6,640\n      In 26   \"       51          67        7,182\n      In  8   \"       77         124       16,061\n\n2. The German Reformed denomination made its appearance, soon after\nthe Lutheran, in the German part of Switzerland, and sprang out of\na dispute between Ulrich Zwingli and Martin Luther concerning the\nimport of the words, \"This is my body,\" \"This is my blood.\"\n\nThe following table shows their growth in this country since 1820:\n\n                  Ministers.   Churches.  Members.\n      1820            68         389       14,400\n      1830            84         353       17,189\n      1840           123         416       17,760\n      1850           231         786       58,799\n      1860           391       1,045       92,684\n      1862           421       1,122      100,691\n      1864           460       1,134      107,394\n      1866           475       1,162      109,258\n      1867           491       1,152      110,408\n      1868           505       1,181      115,483\n      1869           521         --       117,910\n\nThe average annual increase during a series of years has been as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Churches.  Members.\n      In 47 years      9          16        2,043\n      In  7   \"       14          15        2,532\n\n3. The \"United Brethren in Christ\" are the fruits of a \"reformation\"\nin the German Reformed denomination--a sort of Methodistical\noffshoot. The statements of their numbers are as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Societies.  Members.\n      1842           500        1,800      65,000\n      1866           789        3,297      91,570\n      1867           837        3,445      98,983\n      1868           864        3,663     108,122\n\nThe average annual increase during twenty-five years has been as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Societies.  Members.\n      In 25 years     13          66        1,319\n\n4. The \"Moravians,\" or United Brethren, are a distinct denomination\nfrom the preceding one. As known in this country, they descended from\na colony of dissenters, who were first gathered on his estate in\nUpper Alsatia, in 1772, by Count Zinzendorf.\n\nTheir numbers have been stated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1842            24        6,000\n      1867            --        6,655\n      1868            --        6,768\n\nTheir annual average increase of communicants has been in twenty-five\nyears 26.\n\n5. The \"Dutch Reformed Church,\" as it was known until 1867, when the\nname was changed to \"Reformed Church in America,\" is a descendant of\nthe Dutch Reformed Church of Holland.\n\nThe following table shows the growth of this denomination since 1820:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1820            71         105        9,023\n      1830           132         197       15,579\n      1840           230         245       23,782\n      1850           293         292       33,553\n      1860           387         370       50,427\n      1862           419         429         --\n      1863           446         422       53,007\n      1865           436         427       54,286\n      1866           447         434       55,917\n      1867           461         444       57,846\n      1868           469          --       59,508\n      1869           493         464       61,444\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination at different periods\nhas been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 47 years     8\u00bd          7         1,039\n      In 7    \"       10         10         1,060\n\n6. The Mennonites derive their name from Menno Simon, born in\nFriesland A.D. 1495. He was contemporary with Luther, Bucer, and\nBullinger. He obtained a great number of followers. In 1683, the\nfirst of them came over to this country, others soon followed.\n\nTheir number has been estimated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1843           235        260        30,000\n      1860            --         --        35,000\n      1862           260        312        37,360\n      1867            --         --        39,110\n\nThe average annual increase in members in twenty-four years has been\n380.\n\n7. The Reformed Mennonite Society was first organized in 1811. The\nmembers ascribe their origin to the corruptions of the Mennonites.\nThe reform extended into several counties of Pennsylvania, Ohio, and\nNew York, but their doctrines are regarded as too rigid for general\nacceptance.\n\nIn 1860, their numbers were estimated at about 11,000.\n\nThe average annual increase has been about 200.\n\n8. The denomination known as the \"German Evangelical Association\"\nfirst appeared in one of the Middle States, about the year 1800.\n\nThis denomination is now regarded as German Methodists, and their\nnumbers have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1843           250        15,000\n      1859            --        33,000\n      1862            --        46,000\n      1863           386        47,388\n      1365           405        50,000\n      1866           473        54,875\n      1867           478        58,002\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination in twenty-four years\nhas been 1,791.\n\n9. The \"Christians,\" or \"Christian Connection,\" profess not to owe\ntheir origin to the labors of any one man, like the other Protestant\nsects. They rose almost simultaneously in different and remote parts\nof this country, without knowledge of each other's movements.\n\nThe new organizations of this denomination held their twenty-third\nannual convention in June, 1868. The number of organizations was one\nhundred and sixty.\n\nThe numbers of the denomination have been stated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1844         2,000       1,500      325,000\n      1866         3,000       5,000      500,000\n\nThe average annual increase of members has been as follows:\n\n      In 22 years       7,594 members.\n\nThe \"Church of God,\" as it exists by that name in the United States,\nis a religious community, who profess to have come out from all human\nand unscriptural organizations, and to have fallen back upon original\ngrounds, and who wish, therefore, to be known and called by no other\ndistinctive name.\n\nThis denomination exists in Ohio and Pennsylvania and the Western\nStates, and their numbers have been stated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1843           83         125        10,000\n      1860          140         275        14,000\n      1866           --         360        32,000\n\nThe average annual increase has been as follows:\n\n                      Churches.  Members.\n      In 23 years        10        960\n\n11. The denominations thus far noticed are chiefly of German origin.\nThe next class contains those of Scottish origin. Among these the\nPresbyterian holds the first place in age and numbers. The first\norganization here was made in 1706, and known as the Presbytery of\nPhiladelphia. Their first synod was convened September 17, 1718.\n\nThe first General Assembly met in 1789, and a more efficient and\nextensive development ensued. In 1810, a division arose, and the\nformation of the \"Cumberland Presbyterian\" organization. But the most\nextensive division took place in 1838, by which a body was organized\nand known as the \"New School,\" while those who remained were\ndesignated as \"Old School\" Presbyterians. The split thus made has\ncontinued for thirty years, but is now ostensibly removed by measures\nof reunion.\n\nThe statistics of the \"Old School\" Presbyterians for the year 1863\nfirst show the effect of the separation of the Southern portion\nduring the war. The report of numbers has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1843          1,434       2,092     159,137\n      1850          1,860       2,512     200,830\n      1860          2,577       3,487     279,630\n      1861          2,767       3,684     300,874\n      1863          2,205       2,541     227,575\n      1865          2,201       2,629     232,450\n      1866          2,294       2,608     239,306\n      1867          2,302       2,622     246,330\n      1868          2,330       2,737     252,555\n      1869          2,381       2,740     258,903\n      1870[23]      4,234        --       446,561\n\n        [23] Old and New School united.\n\nThe statistics of the Southern division are given as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1865           811        1,277      83,821\n      1867           850        1,309      80,532\n      1868           837        1,298      76,949\n      1870           840        1,469      82,014\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination previous to the\ndivision caused by opposite views on political questions was as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 18 years     74          89        7,874\n\nThe average annual increase of the whole denomination (North and\nSouth) to 1868 has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years     70          78        6,958\n\n12. The division of the Presbyterian Church was entirely consummated\nin 1840, by the meeting of a General Assembly representing the\nseceders, or \"New School.\"\n\nSubsequently, the loss of the Southern churches by the \"Old School\"\ndenomination, and the increase of the anti-slavery sentiment in the\nNorthern portion, suggested a reunion with the \"New School\" soon\nafter the outbreak of the recent war. At length, in 1868, one General\nAssembly met in Albany, while the other was in session in Harrisburg,\nPa. A plan of union was mutually prepared, which, on being approved\nby the local presbyteries, went into effect in 1870.\n\nThe statistics of the \"New School\" Presbyterians have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1839          1,171       1,286     100,850\n      1860          1,527       1,483     134,463\n      1861          1,558        --       134,760\n      1862          1,555       1,466     135,454\n      1863          1,616       1,454     135,894\n      1865          1,694       1,479     143,645\n      1866          1,739       1,528     150,401\n      1867          1,870       1,560     161,538\n      1868          1,800        --       168,932\n      1869          1,848       1,631     172,560\n\nThe average annual increase in twenty-eight years has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 28 years     24          10        2,167\n\n13. The \"General Synod of the Reformed Presbyterian Church\" is the\ntitle of a denomination which claims to be a direct descendant of the\n\"Reformed Presbyterian Church\" of Scotland.\n\nThe statements of the numbers of this denomination have been as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1842            24          44        4,500\n      1861            56          --        7,000\n      1862            56          91          --\n      1866            --          --        7,918\n      1867            66          91        8,324\n      1868            77          --        8,487\n      1870            86          --        8,577\n\nThe average annual increase in twenty-five years has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years     1\u00be           2          153\n\n14. The \"Synod of Reformed Presbyterians\" was formed by certain\npersons who separated from the Reformed Presbyterians (General\nSynod), principally on the ground that they were of opinion that the\nconstitution and government of the United States are essentially\ninfidel and immoral. The separation took place in 1833.\n\nThe few statements relative to the numbers of this denomination have\nbeen as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1861            59          78        6,650\n      1866            60          --        6,000\n\nThe average annual decrease during the last half-dozen years has been\n108.\n\n15. Another division is the \"Associate Presbyterian Church.\" This is\nlocated chiefly in the Middle and Western States. The members of the\ndenomination claim to be a branch of the Church of Scotland.\n\nIn 1858, the Associate Reformed and the Associate churches reunited\nunder the name of \"United Presbyterian Church in North America.\"\n\nThe statistics of the Associate Presbyterian denomination after 1859\nare merged in those of the United Presbyterians, and have been as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1844           106         210       15,000\n      1861           444         669       57,567\n      1863           470         683       54,758\n      1864           513         698       57,691\n      1865           516         659       58,265\n      1866           539         686       58,988\n      1867           558         717       63,489\n      1868           541         735       65,612\n      1869           565         726       65,624\n      1870           553         729       66,805\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination during the six years\nsubsequent to the union, ending in 1867, has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      In 6 years      19        1,000\n\nThe statistics of the \"Associate Synod of North America\"\nabove-mentioned have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1861            49        1,130\n      1867            11          778\n\n16. Another order of Presbyterians in this country is known as the\n\"Associate Reformed Church.\" Since 1822, the denomination has existed\nin three independent divisions, the Northern, the Western, and the\nSouthern. These divisions are quite small in numbers, and their\ngrowth has been insignificant. They have been stated as follows:\n\nThe Associate Reformed Synod of New York in 1843 had 34 ministers and\n43 congregations. In 1867, it had 16 ministers and 1,631 members.\n\nThe Associate Reformed Synod of the South in 1843 had 25 ministers\nand 40 congregations; and in 1867, estimated at 1,500 members.\n\nThe Associate Synod of North America in 1867 had 11 ministers and 778\nmembers.\n\nThe Free Presbyterian Synod, consisting, in 1861, of 41 ministers\nand 4,000 members, had previously separated from the New School\nPresbyterian denomination, but was reunited and absorbed after the\noutbreak of the recent war.\n\n17. The Independent Presbyterian Church in South and North Carolina\nconsisted, in 1861, of 4 ministers and about 1,000 members.\n\n18. Another denomination of Presbyterians remains to be noticed.\nIt is called the \"Cumberland Presbyterians\" and first appeared in\nKentucky in the year 1800. In 1829, there were four synods and the\nfirst General Assembly of the denomination was held. During the\nrecent war the Southern churches were not reported in the Assembly,\nand there are no complete statistics of that period.\n\nThe numbers of the denomination have been stated as follows:\n\n              Synods.  Presby.  Min.  Conversions.\n      1822       1       --      46      2,718\n      1826       1       --      80      3,305\n      1827       1       --     114      4,006\n      1833       6       32      --      5,977\n      1843      13       57      --        --\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1860           927       1,188       84,249\n      1867         1,000     estimated    100,000\n      1870         1,116         --        87,727\n\nThe average annual increase in 55 years, from 1812 to 1867, has been\n1,819.\n\n19. Another large class of denominations is known by the name of\n\"Baptists.\" They are divided into ten separate sects: Baptists;\nFree-Will Baptists; Seventh-Day Baptists; German Baptists or\nBrethren; German Seventh-Day Baptists; Free Communion Baptists; Old\nSchool Baptists; Six-Principle Baptists; River Brethren; Disciples of\nChrist, or Campbellites.\n\nAn estimate of the numbers of the regular Baptists at different\nperiods, made by themselves, presents the following results:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches. Communicants.\n      1842         6,000       9,000       750,000\n      1859         7,150      11,606       925,000\n      1862           --          --        966,000\n      1863         7,952      12,551     1,039,400\n      1865         7,867      12,702     1,040,303\n      1866            --      12,675     1,043,641\n      1868         8,346      12,955     1,094,806\n      1869         8,695      12,011     1,121,988\n      1870         8,787         --      1,221,349\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination during twenty-five\nyears has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years     94         158       13,796\n\n20. The \"Free-will Baptist Connection\" made its first organized\nappearance in this country in 1780. In 1827, a General Conference was\norganized to represent the whole connection. The statements of their\nnumbers have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches. Communicants.\n      1842           898       1,057        54,000\n      1850         1,082       1,252        56,452\n      1859           947       1,170        56,600\n      1862            --         --         58,055\n      1863         1,049       1,277        57,007\n      1865            --         --         56,783\n      1866         1,063       1,264        56,288\n      1867         1,100       1,276        59,111\n      1868         1,161       1,279        61,244\n      1869         1,141       1,375        66,691\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination during the last\ntwenty-five years has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years      8          9          204\n\n21. The \"Seventh-Day Baptists\" are so-called because they differ from\nall other Protestant denominations in their views of the Sabbath.\nThey have gradually spread in the Eastern, the Central, and some\nNorthwestern and Southern States.\n\nLittle is known of their numbers, but they have been stated as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches. Communicants.\n      1842            40         50          6,000\n      1850            43         52          6,243\n      1858            50         56          6,736\n      1863            77         66          6,686\n      1865            --         --          6,796\n      1866            73         68          7,014\n      1867            --         68          7,038\n      1869            --         75          7,129\n\nThe annual average increase of the denomination has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years      1\u2153          \u00be          41\n\n22. There is a denomination of German Baptists which has assumed\nfor itself the name of \"Brethren,\" but they are commonly called\n\"Dunkers\" or \"Tunkers\" to distinguish them from the Mennonists.\nThey have also been called \"Tumblers\" from the manner in which they\nperform baptism, which is by putting the person head forward under\nwater (while kneeling), so as to resemble the motion of the body in\nthe act of tumbling.\n\nIn 1843, their larger congregations contained from two to three\nhundred members; but little was then known among themselves of their\nnumbers. Their subsequent statistics have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1859           150        160         8,700\n      1862            --         --         8,200\n      1863           100        200        20,000\n      1866           150        200        20,000\n      1867            --         --        20,000\n\nA membership of 20,000 has been stated for this denomination during\nthe last half-dozen years without increase or diminution.\n\n23. The \"German Seventh-Day Baptists\" first made their appearance in\nGermany in 1694. From these, after their organization in the United\nStates, sprang the Seventh-Day branch. Their numbers in 1860 were\nestimated at:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1860           187         1,800\n\n24. A society designated as \"Free-Communion Baptists\" arose in\n1858 in McDonough Co., Illinois, and organized a quarterly meeting\nconference. At the quarterly meeting in 1859, one preacher, four\nlicentiates, a few small churches, and 104 members were reported.\n\n25. The \"Old School,\" or Anti-mission, Baptists were formerly a\nportion of the regular Baptists, above-mentioned. They are opposed to\nthe academical or theological education of their ministers, and to\nBible, missionary, and all other voluntary societies of like nature.\n\nTheir numbers have been stated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1860           475       1,750       62,000\n      1862            --          --       60,000\n      1863           850       1,800       60,000\n      1864            --          --       63,000\n      1865            --          --       60,000\n      1867            --       1,800      105,000\n\nThe average annual increase of this denomination during seven years\nby these statements has been 6,143.\n\n25. The denomination called \"Six-Principle Baptists\" originated in\nRhode Island as early as 1665. They are distinguished from other\nBaptists by deducing their peculiarities from the first three verses\nof the sixth chapter of Hebrews.\n\nTheir numbers have been estimated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1860            16          18        3,000\n\nRecent statements put their numbers about the same, and there\nprobably has been no important increase.\n\n27. The \"River Brethren\" is an organization in Pennsylvania and other\nstates, so-called to distinguish them from the German Baptists or\nBrethren above-mentioned.\n\nTheir meetings are generally held in dwelling-houses, or barns fitted\nup with seats; in other respects, they are similar to the German\nBrethren.\n\nTheir numbers have been stated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1860            65          80        7,000\n\nMore recent statements make no important alteration in these numbers.\n\n28. The \"Disciples of Christ,\" or, as the denomination is often\ncalled, \"Baptists,\" \"Reformed Baptists,\" \"Reformers,\" \"Campbellites,\"\netc., originated in the early part of the present century. The first\nadvocates were Thomas and Alexander Campbell in Pennsylvania.\n\nThe statements of their numbers have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1842           --          --       200,000\n      1850           848       1,898      218,618\n      1863         1,500       1,800      300,000\n      1867           --          --       300,000\n\nThe average annual increase, according to these statements, has been\nin twenty-one years, in members, 4,762.\n\n29. The first appearance of the Puritans, since known as\n\"Congregationalists,\" was in the early part of Queen Elizabeth's\nreign. The first church formed upon Congregational principles was\nthat established by Robert Browne in 1583. The denomination is the\nlargest in New England, and exists in small bodies in a number of the\nstates.\n\nTheir numbers are stated to be as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1742         1,150       1,300      160,000\n      1850         1,687       1,971      147,196\n      1858         1,922       2,369      230,093\n      1861          --          --        259,119\n      1862         2,643       2,884      261,474\n      1863         2,594       2,729      253,200\n      1864          --         2,856      268,015\n      1865         2,761       2,723      263,296\n      1866         2,919       2,780      267,453\n      1867         2,971       2,825      278,362\n      1868          --         2,951      291,474\n      1869          --         3,043      300,362\n\nThe average annual increase of this denomination during the last\ntwenty-five years has been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      In 25 years     73          61        4,734\n\n30. The denomination of \"Unitarians\" arose in this country from a\ndivision of opinion among Congregationalists on the divinity of\nChrist. Their statistics contain no report of the membership. All who\nare respectable and orderly members of the society are admitted to\nthe sacraments if they desire to be.\n\nTheir numbers for a series of years have been estimated at 30,000.\n\n                  Ministers.  Societies.  Members.\n      1830            --         193        --\n      1840            --         200        --\n      1850           250         244        --\n      1860           298          --        --\n      1863            43         260     30,000\n      1864           326         250        --\n      1867           370         300        --\n\nThe average annual increase has been estimated for a series of forty\nor more years at about one per cent., or 300.\n\n31. The denomination of \"Universalists\" first made its appearance\nin England about 1750. In Gloucester, Massachusetts, the first\nUniversalist society was formed in 1779. No statistics of the\ndenomination contain the \"membership\" like those of other\ndenominations, as to believe is to become a member. The active\nmembers have been estimated in 1850 at 60,000, although the\npopulation among which Universalism exists to the exclusion of other\ndenominations may be ten times greater.\n\n                  Ministers.  Societies.  Members.\n      1842           646        990          --\n      1850           700        918        60,000\n      1859           724        913          --\n      1865[24]       496        681          --\n      1867           523        732        80,000\n      1868           588        792          --\n      1869           520        844          --\n\n        [24] Incomplete.\n\nAverage annual increase in twenty years, 1,000.\n\n32. The Protestant Episcopal Church is a well-known offshoot of the\nchurch established by the British Parliament in England.\n\nTheir numbers and growth have been as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1859         2,030       2,111      135,767\n      1862         2,270       2,327      160,612\n      1863         1,772       1,617      111,093[25]\n      1864         1,895       1,741      143,854[25]\n      1865         2,467       2,322      154,118\n      1866         2,530       2,305      161,224\n      1867         2,600       2,370      178,102\n      1868         2,736       2,472      194,692\n      1869         2,762       2,512      200,000\n\n        [25] Southern States not reported.\n\nThe average annual increase during the last nine years has been as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n                      78          40        6,536\n\n33. Another large class of denominations is embraced under the\ngeneral term \"Methodism.\" The first denomination, out of which all\nthe others have sprung, was an offshoot of the Church of England,\nknown in this country as the Protestant Episcopal Church.\n\nThe statistics of the denomination have been as follows:\n\n                  Preachers.   Members.\n      1773            10         1,160\n      1783            83        13,740\n      1793           269        67,643\n      1803           393        86,734\n      1813           700       214,307\n      1823         1,226       312,540\n      1833         2,400       599,736\n      1843         4,286     1,068,525\n      1850         3,716       629,660[26]\n      1859         6,502       971,498\n      1862           --        942,906\n      1863         5,885       923,394\n      1864           --        928,320\n      1865         6,121       925,285\n      1866         6,287     1,032,184[27]\n      1867         8,004     1,146,081\n      1868         8,481     1,255,115\n      1869         8,830     1,298,938\n\n        [26] Separation of South in 1845.\n        [27] Centenary year.\n\nThe average annual increase since the separation of the South, and\nduring seventeen years, has been 30,377. Since the close of the war\nconferences have been organized in eight of the Southern states, and\n100,000 members gained from the church South.\n\n34. A secession took place in 1830 from the Methodists, and the\npersons who composed it assumed the name of the \"Methodist Protestant\nChurch.\" Its statistics have been as follows:\n\n                Travelling preachers.     Members.\n      1830                83                5,000\n      1842                --               53,875\n      1850               740               64,219\n      1854                --               70,018\n      1858             2,000               90,000\n\nIn 1866, a convention was held in Cincinnati to unite the Methodist\nProtestants, the Wesleyan Connection, the Free Methodists, the\nPrimitive Methodists, and some independent Methodist congregations,\nunder the name of the \"Methodist Church.\" The union was joined by few\nsave the Northern conferences of the Methodist Protestant body, who\nnow compose the Methodist Church; the Southern conferences retain the\noriginal name of Methodist Protestant. Their numbers in 1867 were\nestimated at 50,000; in 1869, they were estimated at 72,000.\n\nThere has been no actual increase in those now indicated by this name\nin twenty-five years preceding 1868.\n\n35. The \"Methodist Church\" is composed of the Northern conferences of\nthe Methodist Protestant Church which, in attempting to form a union\nwith others in 1866, caused a split among themselves. Their report,\nmade in 1867, states as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1867           625        50,000\n      1869           624        49,030\n\nThis is strictly an increase of the Methodist Protestants, but\nappears under a new name. It is an average annual increase of 2,000.\n\n36. Out of the original separation of the Methodist Protestants from\nthe Methodist Episcopal another denomination sprang up, under the\nname of the \"True Wesleyan Methodists.\"\n\nThe denomination has increased very slowly since its organization, as\nappears by the following statements:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1843           300        20,000\n      1850           500        20,000\n      1860           565        21,000\n      1867            --        25,000\n      1869           220        20,000\n\nAverage annual increase in twenty-five years, 200.\n\n37. The African Methodist Episcopal Church owes its origin to the\nprejudice against the colored members and attendants of the Methodist\nEpiscopal Church. In the early days of the latter, this prejudice was\nso deep that the colored persons were not unfrequently pulled from\ntheir knees while at prayer in the church, and ordered to the back\nseats.\n\nThis denomination has greatly increased by the addition of\nemancipated slaves. Its statistics are as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1842            --        15,000\n      1860            --        20,000\n      1864            --        50,000\n      1865           405        50,000\n      1866            --        70,000\n      1867         1,500       200,000\n      1869         1,500       200,000\n\nThe average annual increase in twenty-five years has been 7,500.\n\n38. The operation of the same prejudice against color in New York\ngave rise to the \"Zion African Methodist Episcopal Church.\" Its\nstatistics show a large increase recently at the South, and are as\nfollows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1842            --         4,000\n      1860            --         6,000\n      1864            --         8,000\n      1866            --        42,000\n      1867           300        60,000\n      1869            --       164,000\n\nThe average annual increase of the denomination has been 2,008.\n\n39. The \"Methodist Episcopal Church, South,\" is the second largest\nbody of Methodists in the United States. It arose from a division of\nthe Methodist Episcopal Church, in accordance with resolutions of the\nGeneral Conference in 1844.\n\nThe membership of this denomination has been reduced by the war, by\nthe invasion of its territory by the Northern Methodist Episcopal,\nand by the African and Zion churches. Its statistics are as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.   Members.\n      1850         1,500       465,553\n      1860         2,408       699,164\n      1866         3,769       505,101\n      1867         3,952       535,040\n      1869 presents no important change.\n\nThe average annual increase in seventeen years has been 4,087.\n\n40. The \"Free Methodist Church\" originated in 1859, and consisted\nof a few congregations in New York and other Northern states. Its\nstatistics have been as follows:\n\n                  Preachers.   Members.\n      1864            66         3,555\n      1866            85         4,889\n      1868            94         6,000\n\nThe average annual increase in two years has been 617.\n\n41. The \"Western Primitive Methodist Church\" held its twenty-second\nannual conference in New Diggings, Wisconsin, 1866. The subject of\nunion with other non-episcopal bodies was favorably considered. Their\nnumbers were in 1865 as follows: Preachers, 20; members, 2,000.\n\n42. The \"Independent Methodist Church\" organized its first\ncongregation in New York City in 1860. The third annual session of\nits conference was held in 1864, and a movement made toward union\nwith other non-episcopal bodies.\n\n43. The \"Friends,\" or \"Quakers,\" arose in England about 1647, under\nthe preaching of Mr. George Fox. The numbers of this denomination are\nestimated at 100,000, comprised in eight yearly meetings.\n\n44. A division took place during the first quarter of the present\ncentury among the Friends, under Mr. Elias Hicks. A distinct and\nindependent association was made under his name. Their numbers are\nestimated at 40,000.\n\n45. The \"Shakers,\" or United Society of Believers, are a small\ndenomination which first made its appearance in this country in 1776.\n\nTheir statistics have been as follows:\n\n                  Preachers.   Members.\n      1828            45         4,500\n      1860            --         4,713\n\nThey are found in Maine, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, New York,\nKentucky, Connecticut.\n\n46. The \"Adventists,\" or \"Second Adventists,\" owe their rise in the\nUnited States to Mr. Wm. Miller, of Low Hampton, New York.\n\nIn 1859, they were estimated to comprise about 18,000 persons, and\nin 1867 about 30,000, exclusive of members of other denominations.\nAverage annual increase in eight years, 1,500.\n\n47. The \"New Church,\" or \"Swedenborgians,\" accept as their rule\nof faith and discipline the Holy Scriptures as interpreted by Mr.\nEmanuel Swedenborg.\n\nTheir numbers in the United States have been estimated as follows:\n\n                  Ministers.  Churches.   Members.\n      1850            42         30        3,000\n      1862            57         49        5,000\n\nAverage annual increase in twelve years, 166.\n\n48. Modern \"Spiritualism\" made its appearance in Western New York\nabout twenty years ago. It came at first in the form of rappings,\nknockings, table-tippings, and other noisy demonstrations, for\nthe purpose of attracting general attention. The believers held\nconventions and public meetings, but adopted no form or plan of\norganization. Great numbers in all denominations are supposed to\napprove more or less of their views; but the number of separate\npublic adherents is estimated at 165,000.\n\n49. The \"Mormon Church,\" or \"Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day\nSaints,\" was first organized in the town of Manchester, New York, on\nApril 6, 1830, by Mr. Joseph Smith, of Vermont. The fortunes of the\nchurch thus started have been variable in New York, Ohio, Missouri,\nand Illinois, until persecution has compelled her to withdraw to the\nwilderness of Utah. Their number is stated to be 60,000. The average\nannual increase in twenty-five years, 2,000.\n\n50. Four miles from Oneida, Madison County, New York, is located an\norganized community the members of which call themselves \"Christian\nPerfectionists.\" It was started by Mr. John F. Noyes, a native of\nBrattleboro, Vermont.\n\nThey have now a community in Oneida, Wallingford, Conn., New Haven,\nConn., and New York, which consisted of 255 members in 1867. This is\nan average annual increase of 10.\n\n51. The \"Catholic Apostolic Church,\" or \"Irvingites,\" originated from\nthe views of Mr. Edward Irving, preached in London in 1830.\n\nThere are about a half-dozen of these congregations in this country,\nestimated to contain 250 members.\n\nA number of small nuclei of perhaps future denominations exists in\ndifferent states, which it is unnecessary to mention.\n\nA recapitulation of the preceding statistics presents the following\nresults:\n\n                                          Church      Average\n                                          Members     Annual\n                                            in       Increase\n                                           1867.    in 25 y'rs.\n\n      1. Lutherans                        332,155      7,182\n      2. German Reformed                  110,408      3,431\n      3. United Brethren                   97,983      1,319\n      4. Moravians                          6,655         26\n      5. Dutch Reformed                    57,846      1,261\n      6. Mennonites                        39,110        380\n      7. Reformed Mennonites               11,000        200\n      8. Evangelical Association           58,002      1,791\n      9. Christian Connection             500,000      7,954\n      10. Church of God                    32,000        960\n      11. O. S. Presbyterians             246,350      6,958\n      12. N. S. Presbyterians             161,538      2,167\n      13. Reformed Presbyterians\n          (General Synod)                   8,324        153\n      14. Synod of Reformed\n          Presbyterians                     6,000         --\n      15. Associate and United\n          Presbyterians                    63,489      1,000\n      16. Associate Reformed Presbyterians  3,909         80\n      17. Free Presbyterians                1,000         --\n      18. Cumberland Presbytr'ns.         100,000      1,819\n      19. Baptists                      1,094,806     13,796\n      20. Free-Will Baptists               59,111        204\n      21. Seventh-Day Baptists              7,038         41\n      22. Dunkers                          20,000        500\n      23. German Seventh-Day Baptists       1,800         30\n      24. Free-Commun. Baptists               104         --\n      25. Anti-Mission Baptists           105,000      6,143\n      26. Six-Principle Baptists            3,000         --\n      27. River Brethren                    7,000         80\n      28. Disciples (Campbellites)        300,000      4,762\n      29. Congregationalists              278,362      4,734\n      30. Unitarians                       30,000        300\n      31. Universalists                    80,000      1,000\n      32. Protestant Episcopal            194,692      6,536\n      33. Methodist Episcopal           1,146,081     30,377\n      34. Methodist Protestant             50,000         --\n      35. Methodist Church                 50,000      2,000\n      36. True Wesleyan                    25,000        200\n      37. African Methodist               200,000      7,500\n      38. Zion African Methodist           60,000      2,008\n      39. Methodist Epis. (South)         535,040      4,087\n      40. Free Methodist                    4,880        617\n      41. Western Primitive Methodist       2,000         40\n      42. Independent Methodists              800         --\n      43. Friends, or Quakers             100,000      1,000\n      44. Hicksites                        40,000        400\n      45. Shakers                           4,713         60\n      46. Adventists                       30,000      1,500\n      47. Swedenborgians                    5,000        186\n      48. Spiritualism                    165,000      8,000\n      49. Mormon Church                    60,000      2,000\n      50. Christian Perfectionists            255         10\n      51. Catholic Apost. Church              250         10\n                                        ---------    -------\n            Total                       6,396,110    134,802\n\nThus the whole number of members of Protestant churches in the United\nStates in 1867 was 6,396,110. The average annual increase of this\nmembership during the preceding twenty-five years has been 134,802.\n\nThe population of the United States according to the usual census and\nthat of the Bureau of Statistics for 1867, has been as follows:\n\n      1840             17,069,453\n      1850             23,191,876\n      1860             31,443,322\n      1867             36,743,198\n      1870 incomplete officially.\n\nThe average annual increase in twenty-seven years has been 728,509.\n\nIf we deduct from the population of the United States in 1867 the\nnumber of persons who were members of Protestant churches, there\nwill remain 30,347,088 persons in the United States in 1867 who were\nnot members of Protestant churches, who made no public profession of\nfaith in their doctrines, and who did not partake of their sacraments.\n\nIf we suppose the church-membership of Protestant denominations to\nincrease at the same average annual rate during the next thirty-three\nyears, until the year 1900, that increase will amount to 4,448,466.\nIf this increase is added to the number of church-members in 1867,\nthe membership of all the Protestant churches in the year 1900 will\nbe 10,844,576.\n\nIf we suppose the population of the United States to increase in the\nsame average annual rate during the next thirty-three years, until\nthe year 1900, that increase will amount to 24,040,797. This amount\nadded to the population of 1867 will make the population in 1900\nreach the number 60,784,945, of whom 49,940,419 will not be members\nof any Protestant church, nor make a public profession of faith in\ntheir doctrines, nor partake of their sacraments.\n\nIt may be said that the average annual increase of Protestantism for\ntwenty-five years subsequent to 1867 will be numerically greater\nthan for the previous twenty-five years. So will also be numerically\nlarger the average annual increase of the population for a like\nperiod, but the relative proportion of the denominations to the\npopulation would remain unchanged.\n\n\n\n\nON A GREAT PLAGIARIST.\n\n\n      Ph\u0153bus drew back with just disdain\n        The wreath: the Delphic Temple frowned:\n      The suppliant fled to Hermes' fane,\n        That stood on lower, wealthier ground.\n\n      The Thief-God spake, with smile star-bright:\n        \"Go thou where luckier poets browse,\n      The pastures of the Lord of Light,\n        And do--what I did with his cows.\"[28]\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[28] He stole, killed, and ate the whole of Apollo's herd, before he\nwas a day old! See Homer's _Hymn to Mercury_.\n\n\n\n\nMARY BENEDICTA.\n\n\nWe were at school together. We little dreamed, either of us, in those\nmischief-loving days of frolic and fun, that she was one day to be a\nsaint, and that I would write her story.\n\nYet look well at the face. Is there not something like a promise of\nsainthood on the pure, white brow? And the eyes, blue-gray Irish\neyes, with the long, dark lashes throwing a shadow underneath,\n\"diamonds put in with dirty fingers,\" have they not a spiritual\noutlook that speaks to you with a promise--a revelation of some\nvision or growth of some beauty beyond what meets your gaze? Yet,\nthough it seems so clear in the retrospect, this prophetic side of\nher beauty, I own it, never struck me then.\n\nI am going to tell her story simply, with strict accuracy as to the\ntraits of her character--the facts of her life and her death. I shall\ntell the bad with the good, neither striving to varnish her faults\nnor to heighten, by any dramatic coloring, the beautiful reality of\nher virtues. The story is one calculated, it seems to me, to be a\nlight and a lesson to many. The very faults and follies, the strange\nbeginning, so unlike the end, all taken as parts of a whole in the\ntrue experience of a soul, contain a teaching whose sole eloquence\nmust be its truth and its simplicity.\n\nI said we were at school together, but, though in the same convent,\nwe were not in the same class. Mary (this was her real Christian\nname) was a few years older than I. Her career at this time was one\nof the wildest that ever a school-girl lived through. High-spirited,\nreckless, setting all rules at defiance, she was the torment of her\nmistresses and the delight of her companions. With the latter, her\ngood-nature and good temper carried her serenely above all the little\nmalices and jealousies that display themselves in that miniature\nworld, a school; and, at the same time, her spirit of independence,\nwhile it was constantly getting her into \"scrapes,\" was so redeemed\nby genuine abhorrence of everything approaching to meanness or deceit\nthat it did not prevent her being a universal favorite with the nuns.\nOne in particular, who from her rigorous disciplinarianism was the\nterror of us all, was even less proof than the others against the\nindomitable sweet temper and lovableness of her rebellious pupil.\nThey were in a state of permanent warfare, but occasionally, after a\nhot skirmish carried on before the public, viz., the second class,\nMother Benedicta would take the rebel aside, and try privately\nto coax her into a semblance of apology, or mayhap a promise of\namendment. Sometimes she succeeded, for the refractory young lady\nwas always more amenable to caresses than to threats, and was,\nbesides, notwithstanding the war footing on which they stood, very\nfondly attached to Mother Benedicta, but she never pledged herself\nunconditionally. This was a great grievance with the mistress. She\nused to argue, and threaten, and plead by the hour, in order to\ninduce Mary to give her \"word of honor,\" as the phrase was amongst\nus, that she would observe such and such a prohibition, or obey such\nand such a rule--silence was the chronic _casus belli_--but all to\nno purpose.\n\n\"No, sister, I promise you to try; but I won't promise to do or not\nto do,\" she would answer, undefiantly, but quite resolutely.\n\nIt was a common thing for Mother Benedicta to say, after one of\nthese conferences which ended, as usual, in the cautious, \"I'll try,\nsister,\" that, if she could once get Mary to promise her outright to\nmend her ways, she would never take any more trouble about her. \"If\nshe pledged her word of honor to be a saint, I believe she would keep\nit,\" observed the nun, with a sigh.\n\nI mention this little incident advisedly, for, though at the time we,\nin our wisdom, thought it must be pure perversity on the part of our\nmistress that made her so pursue Mary on the subject, considering\nthat we were all in the habit of pledging our words of honor any\ngiven number of times a week with no particular result, I lived to\nsee that in this individual instance she was guided by prophetic\ninsight.\n\nShe never succeeded, however, in inducing Mary to commit herself\nduring the four years that she was under her charge. It was war\nto the end; not to the bitter end, for the strife did not weaken,\nnay, it probably strengthened the enduring attachment that had\nsprung up between them. By way of sealing irrevocably and publicly\nthis attachment on her side, Mary added the nun's name to her own,\nand even after she left school she continued to sign herself Mary\nBenedicta. When the time came round for frequenting the sacraments,\nit was the sure signal for a quarrel between the two belligerents.\nThere was no plea or stratagem that Mary would not have recourse\nto in order to avoid going to confession. Yet withal she had a\nreputation in the school for piety--a queer, impulsive sort of\npiety peculiar to herself, that came by fits and starts. We had an\nunaccountable belief in the efficacy of her prayers, and in any\ndifficulty she was one of those habitually appealed to to pray us out\nof it; not, indeed, that we were actuated by any precise view as to\nthe spiritual quality of the prayers, only impressed vaguely by her\ngeneral character, that whatever she did she put her heart in and\ndid thoroughly. Mother Benedicta used to say that her devotion to\nthe Blessed Sacrament would save her. But this devotion consisted,\nas far as we could see, in an enthusiastic love for Benediction; and\nas Mary was passionately fond of music, and confessed a weakness\nfor effective ceremonial, Mother Benedicta herself occasionally had\nmisgivings as to how much of the devotion went to the object of the\nceremony and how much to its accessories, the lights, the music, and\nthe incense. At any rate, once over, it exercised no apparent control\nover her life. The rules of the school she systematically ignored;\nthe rule of silence she looked upon with special contempt as a\nbondage fit for fools, but unworthy of rational human beings. To the\nlast day of her sojourn in the school, she practically illustrated\nthe opinion that speech was of gold and silence of brass, and left it\nwith the reputation of being the most indefatigable talker; the most\nunruly and untidy subject, but the sweetest nature that ever tried\nthe patience and won the hearts of the community.\n\nWhen she was about eighteen, her father sent her to the Sacr\u00e9 C\u0153ur,\nin Paris, to complete her education, which, in spite of considerable\nexpense on his part, and masters without end, was at this advanced\nperiod in a sadly retrograde state, the little she had learned at\nschool in Ireland having been assiduously forgotten in the course\nof a year's anarchical holiday, when reading of every sort and even\nher favorite music were set aside for the more congenial pastimes of\ndancing, and skating, and flying across country after the hounds.\n\nI was then living in Paris, and Mary was placed under my mother's\nwing. We went to see her on the _Jours de Parloir_, and she came\nto us on the _Jours de Sortie_. But it did not last long. As might\nhave been expected, the sudden change from a life of excitement and\nconstant out-door exercise to one of seclusion and sedentary habits\nproved too trying to her health, and after a few months the medical\nman of the convent declared that he was not prepared to accept the\nresponsibility of taking charge of her, and strongly advised that she\nshould be sent home.\n\nWe communicated this intelligence to her father, begging at the same\ntime that before he came to remove her she might be allowed to spend\na month with us. The request was granted and Mary came to stay with\nus.\n\nThat we might lose as little as possible of each other's company\nwhile we were together, she shared my room. We spent the mornings at\nhome; I studying or taking my lessons, she reading, or lolling about\nthe room, watching the clock, and longing for the master to go and\nset me free, that we might go out.\n\nMy mother, who only in a lesser degree shared my affection for\nMary, and was anxious to make her visit as pleasant as possible,\ntook her about to all the places best worth seeing in the city--the\npicture-galleries, the palaces, the museums, and the churches. The\nlatter, though many of them, even as works of art, were amongst the\nmost interesting monuments for a stranger, Mary seemed thoroughly\nindifferent to. When we entered one, instead of kneeling a moment\nbefore the sanctuary, as any Catholic does from mere force of habit\nand impulse, she would just make the necessary genuflexion, and,\nwithout waiting for us, hurry on round the building, examine the\npictures and the stained glass, and then go out with as little delay\nas might be. This did not strike my mother, who was apt to remain all\nthe time at her prayers, while I walked about doing the honors of the\nchurch to Mary; but it struck me, and it pained and puzzled me.\n\nShe was too innately honest to attempt the shadow of prevarication\nor _pose_ even in her attitude, and her haste in despatching the\ninspection of every church we entered was so undisguised that I saw\nshe did not care whether I noticed it or not. Once, on coming out\nof the little church of St. Genevieve, one of the loveliest shrines\never raised to the worship of God by the genius of man, I said rather\nsharply to her, for she had beaten a more precipitate retreat than\nusual, and cut short my mother's devotions at the tomb of the saint:\n\n\"Mary,\" I said, \"one really would think the devil was at your heels\nthe moment you enter a church, you are in such a violent hurry to get\nout of it.\"\n\nShe laughed, not mockingly, with a sort of half-ashamed expression,\nand turning her pure, full eyes on me.\n\n\"I hate to stay anywhere under false appearances,\" she said, \"and I\nalways feel such a hypocrite kneeling before the Blessed Sacrament! I\nfeel as if I would choke if I stay there over five minutes.\"\n\nI felt shocked, and I suppose I looked it.\n\n\"Don't look at me as if I were possessed of the devil,\" she said,\nstill laughing, though there was a touch of sadness, it struck me,\nin her voice and face. \"I mean to be converted by-and-by, and mend my\nways; but meantime let me have my fun, and, above all, don't preach\nto me!\"\n\n\"I don't feel the least inclined,\" I replied.\n\n\"I suppose you think I'm gone beyond it. Well, you can pray for me.\nI'm not gone beyond the reach of that!\"\n\nThis was the only serious conversation, if it deserves the name,\nthat we had during the first week of her visit. She enjoyed herself\nthoroughly, throwing all the zest of her earnest nature into\neverything. The people and their odd French ways, the shops and\ntheir exquisite wares, the opera, the gay Bois with the brilliant\nthrong of fashion that crowded round the lake every day at the hour\nof promenade--the novelty of the scene and the place altogether\nenchanted her, and there was something quite refreshing in the spirit\nof enjoyment she threw into it all.\n\nOne evening, after a long day of sight-seeing, we were invited by a\nfriend of hers to dine at the _table d'h\u00f4te_ of the Louvre. It was\nthe _grande nouveaut\u00e9_ just then, and Mary was consequently wild to\nsee it. We went, and during dinner the admiration excited by her\nbeauty was so glaringly expressed by the persistent stare of every\neye within range of her at the table that my mother was provoked\nat having brought her and exposed her to such an ordeal. But Mary\nherself was blissfully unconscious of the effect she was producing;\nindeed, it would hardly be an exaggeration to say she was unconscious\nof the cause. Certainly, no woman ever had less internal perception\nor outward complacency in her beauty than she had. This indifference\namounted to a fault, for it pervaded her habits of dress, which were\nvery untidy, and betokened a total disregard of personal appearance.\nThe old fault that had been one of Mother Benedicta's standing\ngrievances was as strong as ever, and it was all I could do to get\nher to put on her clothes straight, and to tie her bonnet under her\nchin instead of under her ear, when she came out with us.\n\nBut to return to the Louvre. It had been settled that after dinner we\nshould walk across to the Palais Royal, and let Mary see the diamond\nshops illuminated, and all the other wonderful shops; but during\ndinner she overheard some one saying that the Emperor and Empress\nwere to be at the Grand Opera that night. Her first impulse was to\ntake a box and go there. But my mother objected that it was Saturday,\nthe opera was never over before midnight, and consequently we could\nnot be home and in bed before one o'clock on Sunday morning.\n\nWith evident disappointment, but, as usual, with the sweetest good\ntemper, Mary gave way. Her friend then proposed that, before going\nto the Palais Royal, we should walk on to the Rue Lepelletier, and\nsee the Emperor and Empress going in to the Opera. There was no\ndifficulty in the way of this amendment, so it was adopted.\n\nOn coming out of the Louvre, however, we found, to our surprise\nand discomfiture, that the weather had been plotting against our\nlittle programme. The ground, which was frozen dry and hard when\nwe drove down from the Champs Elys\u00e9es less than two hours before,\nhad become like polished glass under a heavy fall of sleet; the\nhorses were already slipping about in a very uncomfortable way, and\nthere was a decided disinclination on the part of pedestrians to\ntrust themselves to cabs. Fate had decreed that Mary was not to see\nthe Emperor on any terms that night. It would have been absurdly\nimprudent to venture on the macadam of the boulevards, and increase\nthe risk of driving at all by waiting till the streets were so\nslippery that no horse could keep his footing on them. There was\nnothing for it but to go straight home, which we did, the horse\nsnailing at a foot-pace all the way.\n\nIt was a memorable night this one of which I am chronicling a trivial\nrecollection--trivial in itself, but weighty in its consequences.\n\nIt was the 14th of January, 1858.\n\nWe went to bed, and slept, no doubt, soundly. None the less soundly\nfor the thundering crash that, before we lay down, had shaken the\nRue Lepelletier from end to end, making the houses rock to their\nfoundations, shattering to pieces every window from garret to cellar,\nand reverberating along the boulevards like the roar of a hundred\ncannon. The noise shook half Paris awake for that long night. The\npeople, first merely terrified, then lashed to a frenzy of horror and\nof enthusiasm, rushed from their houses, and thronged the boulevards\nand the streets in the vicinity of the Opera. In the pitch darkness\nthat followed simultaneously with the bursting of Orsini's bombs, it\nwas impossible to know how many were murdered or how many wounded.\nThere had been a great crowd of _curieux_ and strangers as usual\nwaiting to see their majesties alight--the street was lined with\nthem. Were they all murdered, blown to the four winds of heaven, in\nthat explosion that was loud enough to have blown up half Paris? Of\ncourse, popular fear and fury exaggerated the number of the victims\nenormously, and the night resounded with the shrieks and lamentations\nof women, the plunging and moaning of horses, wounded or only\nfrantic with terror, and the passionate cries of _Vive l'Empereur!_\nintermingled with curses on the fiends who, to secure the murder of\none man, had sacrificed the lives of hundreds.\n\nWhile this ghastly tumult was scaring sleep and silence from the city\nclose to us, we slept on, all unconscious of the cup of trembling to\nwhich we had stretched out our hand, and which had been so mercifully\nsnatched away from us.\n\nIt was only next morning, on going out to Mass, that the _concierge_\nstopped us to tell the news of the attempt on the Emperor's life.\n\nAnd we had been vexed and felt aggrieved with the rain that drove us\nhome, and prevented our going to stand amongst those _curieux_ in the\nRue Lepelletier!\n\nMary did not hear of it till we met at breakfast. I never shall\nforget the look of blank horror on her face as she listened to the\naccount of what had happened on the very spot where we had been so\nbent on going.\n\nAlthough this attack of Orsini's comes into my narrative simply as a\ndatum, I cannot resist making a short digression toward it.\n\nMost of my readers will remember the singular stoicism displayed by\nthe Emperor at the moment of the explosion. One of the horses was\nkilled under his carriage, which was violently shaken by the plunging\nof the terrified animals, and a splinter from one of the bombs,\nflashing through the window, grazed him on the temple. In the midst\nof the general panic and confusion of the scene, the equerry rushed\nforward, and, taking the Emperor by the arm, cried hurriedly:\n\n\"Come out, sire! Come out!\"\n\n\"Let down the steps,\" observed his master with unruffled _sang\nfroid_, and quietly waited till it was done before he moved.\n\nHe entered the Opera amidst deafening cheers, and sat out the\nrepresentation as coolly, and to all appearances with as much\nattention, as if nothing had occurred to disturb him, now and then\nquietly drawing his handkerchief across the splinter-mark on his\nforehead, from which the blood was oozing slightly.\n\nNext day a solemn Te Deum was celebrated at the Tuileries. The\nEmpress wished the little prince, then a baby in arms, to be\npresent at the thanksgiving for her own and his father's miraculous\npreservation. The child was carried into the Salle des Mar\u00e9chaux,\nwhere the court and the Corps Diplomatique were assembled, and\nimmediately put out his hands, clamoring for his father to take him.\nThe Emperor took him in his arms, and the child, looking up at his\nface, noticed the red mark on the temple.\n\n\"Papa _bobo_!\"[29] he lisped, and put up his little hand to touch it.\n\nThe hard, sphynx-like face struggled for a moment; but the child's\ntouch had melted the strong man. He clasped him to his heart, and\nliterally shook with sobs.\n\nThese details, which were probably never written before, were told to\nme by one who was present at the attempt the previous night, and at\nthe Te Deum Mass next day.\n\nThat night, when we were alone, Mary and I talked over the diabolical\ncrime that had within four and twenty hours shaken the whole country\nlike an earthquake, and over the merciful interposition that had\narrested us on our way to what might have been for us, as it was for\nmany, a certain and horrible death. Mary, though she said little on\nthis latter point, was evidently very deeply impressed, and what she\ndid say carried in it a depth of religious emotion that revealed her\nto me in quite a new light.\n\nIt was agreed that she would go to confession next day, and that we\nwere to begin a novena together in thanksgiving for our preservation.\n\n\"Mary,\" I said impulsively, after we had been silent a little while,\n\"why have you such a dislike to go to the sacraments? I can't\nunderstand how, believing in them at all, you can be satisfied to\napproach them so seldom.\"\n\n\"It isn't dislike; it is _fear_,\" she answered. \"It's precisely\nbecause I realize so _awfully_ the power and sanctity of the Blessed\nSacrament that I keep away. I believe so intensely in it that,\nif I went often to holy communion, I should have to divorce from\neverything, to give up my whole life to preparation and thanksgiving.\nI know I should. And I don't want to do it. Not yet, at any rate,\"\nshe added, half-unconsciously, as if speaking to herself.\n\nI shall never forget the effect her words had on me, nor her face as\nshe uttered them. The night was far spent. The emotions of the day,\nthe long watch, and perhaps the flickering of our bedroom candle\nthat was burning low, all conspired to give an unwonted pallor\nto her features that imbued them with an almost ethereal beauty.\nI always think of her now as she sat there, in her girlish white\ndressing-gown, her hands locked resting on her knees, her head thrown\nback, and her eyes looking up, so still, as if some far beyond were\nbreaking on her gaze and holding it transfixed.\n\nNothing broke on mine. In my dull blindness I did not see that I was\nassisting at the beginning of a great mystery, a spectacle on which\nthe gaze of angels was riveted--the wrestling of a soul with God: the\nsoul resisting; the Creator pleading and pursuing.\n\nShe left us at the end of January to return home. We parted with many\ntears, and a promise to correspond often and pray for each other\ndaily.\n\nFor a time we did correspond very regularly--for nearly a year.\nDuring this period her life was an unpausing whirl of dissipation.\nBalls, visits, operas, and concerts during the season in town were\nsucceeded in the country by more balls, and hunting, and skating, and\nthe usual round of amusements that make up a gay country life. Mary\nwas everywhere the beauty of the place, the admired of all admirers.\nStrange to say, in spite of her acknowledged supremacy, she made no\nenemies. Perhaps it would have been stranger still if she had. Her\nsweet, artless manner and perfect unconsciousness of self went for\nat least as much in the admiration she excited as her beauty. If she\ndanced every dance at every ball, it was never once for the pleasure\nof saying she did it, of triumphing over other girls, but for the\ngenuine pleasure of the dance itself.\n\nHer success was so gratuitous, so little the result of coquetry on\nher side, that, however much it might be envied, it was impossible to\nresent it.\n\nI am not trying to make out a case for Mary, or to excuse, still\nless justify, the levity of the life she was leading at this time.\nMy only aim is to convey a true idea of the spirit in which she was\nleading it--mere exuberance of spirits, the zest of youth in the gay\nopportunities that were showered upon her path. She was revelling\nlike a butterfly in flowers and sunshine. The spirit of worldliness\nin its true and worst sense did not possess her; did not even touch\nher. Its cankerous breath had not blown upon her soul and blighted\nit; the worm had not eaten into her heart and hardened it. Both were\nstill sound--only drunk; intoxicated with the wine of life. She went\nwaltzing through flames, like a moth round a candle; like a child\nletting off rockets, and clapping hands with delight at the pretty\nblue blaze, without fear or thought of danger. There was no such\nthing as premeditated infidelity in her mind. She was not playing\na deliberate game with God; bidding him wait till she was ready,\ntill she was tired of the world and the world of her. No, she was\nutterly incapable of such a base and guilty calculation. She had\nsimply forgotten that she had a soul to save. The still, small voice\nthat had spoken to her in earlier days, especially on that night of\nthe 15th of January, stirring the sleeping depths, and calling out\nmomentary yearnings toward the higher life, had altogether ceased\nits pleadings. How could that mysterious whisper make itself heard\nin such a din and clangor of unholy music? There was no silent spot\nin her soul where it could enter and find a listener. But Mary did\nnot think about it. She was inebriated with youth and joy, and had\nflung herself into the vortex, and raced round with it till her head\nreeled. On the surface, all was ripple and foam, rings running round\nand round; but the depths below were sleeping. The one, the visible\nhold that she retained on God at this time was her love for his poor.\nHer heart was always tender to suffering in every form, but to the\npoor especially. As an instance of this, I may mention her taking\noff her flannel petticoat, on a bitter winter's day, to give it to\na poor creature whom she met shivering at the roadside, and then\nrunning nearly a mile home in the cold herself.\n\nAfter about a year our correspondence slackened, and gradually broke\ndown altogether. I heard from her once in six months, perhaps.\nThe tone of her letters struck me as altered. I could not exactly\nsay how, except that it had grown more serious. She said nothing\nof triumphs at archery meetings or of brushes carried off \"at the\ndeath;\" there seemed to be no such feats to chronicle. She talked of\nher family and of mine, very little of herself. Once only, in answer\nto a direct question as to what books she read, she told me that she\nwas reading Father Faber, and that she read very little else. This\nwas the only clue I gained to the nature of the change that had come\nover her.\n\nAt the expiration of about two years, a clergyman, who was an old\nfriend of her family, and a frequent visitor at the house, came to\nParis, and gave me a detailed account of the character and extent of\nthe change.\n\nThe excitement into which she had launched on returning home, and\nwhich she had kept up with unflagging spirit, had, as might have been\nexpected, told on her health, never very strong. A cough set in at\nthe beginning of the winter which caused her family some alarm. She\ngrew thin to emaciation, lost her appetite, and fell into a state of\ngeneral ill-health. Change of air and complete rest were prescribed\nby the medical men. She was accordingly taken from one sea-side place\nto another, and condemned to a _r\u00e9gime_ of dulness and quiet. In\na few months the system told favorably, and she was sufficiently\nrecovered to return home.\n\nBut the monotony of an inactive life which was still enforced, after\nthe mad-cap career she had been used to, wearied her unspeakably.\nFor want of something better to do, she took to reading. Novels,\nof course. Fortunately for her, ten years ago young ladies had not\ntaken to writing novels that honest men blush to review, and that\ntoo many young ladies do not blush to read. Mary did no worse than\nwaste her time without active detriment to her mind. She read the\nnew novels of the day, and, if she was not much the better, she was\nprobably none the worse for it. But one day--a date to be written in\ngold--a friend, the same who gave me these particulars, made her a\npresent of Father Faber's _All for Jesus_. The title promised very\nlittle entertainment; reluctantly enough, Mary turned over the pages\nand began to read. How long she read, I cannot tell. It might be\ntrue to say that she never left off. Others followed, all from the\nsame pen, through uninterrupted days, and weeks, and months. She\ntold me afterward that the burning words of those books--the first\nespecially, and _The Creator and the Creature_--pursued her even in\nher dreams. She seemed to hear a voice crying after her unceasingly:\n\"Arise, and follow!\"\n\nSuddenly, but irrevocably, the whole aspect of life was changed to\nher. She began to look back upon the near past, and wonder whether\nit was she herself who had so enjoyed those balls and gaieties, or\nwhether she had not been mad, and imagined it, and was only now in\nher right mind. The most insuperable disgust succeeded to her love of\nworldly amusement. She cared for nothing but prayer and meditation,\nand the service of the poor and suffering. An ardent longing took\npossession of her to suffer for and with our Divine Master. Yielding\nto the impulse of her new-born fervor, she began to practise the most\nrigorous austerities, fasting much, sleeping little, and praying\nalmost incessantly. This was done without the counsel or cognizance\nof any spiritual guide. She knew of no one to consult. Her life\nhad been spiritually so neglected during the last two years that\ndirection had had no part to play in it. There was nothing to direct.\nThe current was setting in an opposite direction. The supernatural\nwas out of sight.\n\nUnder cover of her health, which, though it was fairly recovered,\nstill rendered quiet and great prudence desirable, Mary contrived to\navoid all going out, and secretly laid down for herself a rule of\nlife that she adhered to scrupulously.\n\nBut this could not go on long. As she grew in the ways of prayer,\nthe spirit of God led her imperceptibly but inevitably into the sure\nand safe high-road of all pilgrims travelling toward the bourn of\nsanctity and aiming at a life of perfection.\n\nThe necessity of a spiritual director was gradually borne in upon\nher, as she said to me, while at the same time the difficulty of\nmeeting with this treasure, whom St. Teresa bids us seek amongst ten\nthousand, grew more and more apparent and disheartening.\n\nHer father, a man of the world and very little versed in the\nmysteries of the interior life, but a good practical Catholic\nnevertheless, saw the transformation that had taken place in his\ndaughter, and knew not exactly whether to be glad or sorry. He\nacknowledged to her long after that the first recognition of it\nstruck upon his heart like a death-knell. He felt it was the signal\nfor a great sacrifice.\n\nMary opened her heart to him unreservedly, seeking more at his hands\nperhaps than any mere father in flesh and blood could give, asking\nhim to point out to her the turning-point of the new road on which\nshe had entered, and to help her to tread it. That it was to be a\npath of thorns in which she would need all the help that human love\ncould gather to divine grace, she felt already convinced.\n\nHer father, with the honesty of an upright heart, confessed himself\ninadequate to the solving of such a problem, and bravely proposed\ntaking her to London to consult Father Faber.\n\nMary, in an ecstasy of gratitude, threw her arms round his neck, and\ndeclared it was what she had been longing for for months. Father\nFaber had been her guide so far; his written word had spoken to her\nlike a voice from the holy mount, making all the dumb chords of her\nsoul to vibrate. What would he not do for her if she could speak to\nhim heart to heart, and hear the words of prayer-inspired wisdom from\nhis own lips!\n\nThey set out in a few days for London; but they were not to get\nthere. The promise that looked so near and so precious in its\naccomplishment was never to be fulfilled. They had no sooner reached\nDublin than Mary fell ill. For some days she was in high fever; the\nmedical men assured the panic-stricken father that there was no\nimmediate cause for alarm; no remote cause even, as the case then\nstood; the patient was delicate, but her constitution was good,\nthe nervous system sound, although shaken by the present attack,\nand apparently by previous mental anxiety. The attack itself they\nattributed to a chill which had fallen on the chest.\n\nThe event justified the opinion of the physicians. Mary recovered\nspeedily. It was not judged advisable, however, to let her proceed\nto London. She relinquished the plan herself with a facility that\nsurprised her father. He knew how ardently she had longed to see the\nspiritual guide who had already done so much for her, and he could\nnot forbear asking why she took the disappointment so coolly.\n\n\"It's not a disappointment, father. God never disappoints. I don't\nknow why, only I feel as if the longing were already satisfied; as if\nI were not to go so far to find what I'm looking for,\" she answered;\nand quietly set about preparing to go back home.\n\nBut they were still on the road of Damascus. On the way home, they\nrested at the house of a friend near the Monastery of Mount Melleray.\nI cannot be quite sure whether the monks were giving a retreat for\nseculars in the monastery, or whether it was being preached in the\nneighboring town. As well as I remember, it was the latter. Indeed, I\ndoubt whether women would be admitted to assist at a retreat within\nthe monastery, and, if not, this would be conclusive. But of one\nthing I am sure, the preacher was Father Paul, the superior of La\nTrappe. I don't know whether his eloquence, judged by the standard\nof human rhetoric, was anything very remarkable, but many witnesses\ngo to prove on exhaustive evidence that it was of that kind whose\nproperty it is to save souls.\n\nTo Mary it came like a summons straight from heaven. She felt an\nimperative desire to speak to him at once in the confessional.\n\n\"I can give you no idea of the exquisite sense of peace and security\nthat came over me the moment I knelt down at his feet,\" she said, in\nrelating to me this stage of her vocation. \"I felt certain that I had\nfound the man who was to be my Father Faber.\"\n\nAnd so she had.\n\nAll that passes between a director and his spiritual child is of so\nsolemn and sacred a nature that, although many things which Mary\nconfided to me concerning her intercourse with the saintly abbot\nof La Trappe might prove instructive and would certainly prove\nedifying to many interior souls, I do not feel justified in repeating\nthem. If I were even not held back by this fear of indiscretion, I\nshould shrink from relating these confidences, lest I should mar\nthe beauty or convey a false interpretation of their meaning. While\nshe was speaking, I understood her perfectly. While listening to\nthe wonderful experiences of divine grace with what she had been\nfavored, and which she recounted to me with the confiding simplicity\nof a child, her words were as clear and reflected her thoughts as\nluminously as a lake reflects the stars looking down into its crystal\ndepths, making the mirror below a faithful repetition of the sky\nabove. But when I tried to write down what she had said while it\nwas quite fresh upon my mind, the effort baffled me. There was so\nlittle to write, and that little was so delicate, so mysteriously\nintangible, I seemed never to find the right word that had come\nso naturally, so expressively, to her. When she spoke of prayer\nespecially, there was an eloquence, rising almost to sublimity,\nin her language that altogether defied my coarse translation, and\nseemed to dissolve like a rainbow under the process of dissection.\nThe most elevated subjects she was at home with as if they had been\nher natural theme, the highest spirituality her natural element.\nThe writings of St. Teresa and St. Bernard had grown familiar to her\nas her catechism, and she seemed to have caught the note of their\ninspired teaching with the mastery of sainthood. This was the more\nextraordinary to me that her intellect was by no means of a high\norder. Quite the contrary. Her taste, the whole bent of her nature,\nwas the reverse of intellectual, and what intelligence she had was,\nas far as real culture went, almost unreclaimed. Her reading had\nbeen always of the most superficial, non-metaphysical kind; indeed,\nthe aversion to what she called \"hard reading\" made her turn with\nperverse dislike from any book whose title threatened to be at all\ninstructive. She had never taken a prize at school, partly because\nshe was too lazy to try for it, but also because she had not brain\nenough to cope with the clever girls of her class. Mary was quite\nalive to her shortcomings in this line, indeed she exaggerated\nthem, as she was prone to do most of her delinquencies, and always\nspoke of herself as \"stupid.\" This she decidedly was not; but her\nintellectual powers were sufficiently below superiority to make her\nsudden awakening to the sublime language of mystical theology and her\nintuitive perception of its subtlest doctrines matter of great wonder\nto those who only measure man's progress in the science of the saints\nby the shallow gauge of human intellect.\n\n\"How do you contrive to understand those books, Mary?\" I asked her\nonce, after listening to her quoting St. Bernard _\u00e0 l'appui_ of some\nremarks on the Prayer of Union that carried me miles out of my depth.\n\n\"I don't know,\" she replied with her sweet simplicity, quite\nunconscious of revealing any secrets of infused science to my\nwondering ears. \"I used not to understand them the least; but\nby degrees the meaning of the words began to dawn on me, and the\nmore I read, the better I understood. When I come to anything very\ndifficult, I stop, and pray, and meditate till the meaning comes to\nme. It is often a surprise to myself, considering how stupid I am in\neverything else,\" she continued, laughing, \"that I should understand\nspiritual books even as well as I do.\"\n\nThose who have studied the ways of God with his saints will not share\nher surprise. In our own day, the venerable Cur\u00e9 d'Ars is among the\nmost marvellous proofs of the manner in which he pours out his wisdom\non those who are accounted and who account themselves fools, not\nworthy to pass muster amongst men. But I am anticipating.\n\nHer meeting with Father Paul was the first goal in her new career,\nand from the moment Mary had reached it she felt secure of being led\nsafely to the end.\n\nThose intervening stages were none the less agitated by many interior\ntrials; doubts as to the sincerity of her vocation; heart-sinkings\nas to her courage in bearing on under the cross that she had taken\nup; misgivings, above all, as to the direction in which that cross\nlay. While her life-boat was getting ready, filling its sails, and\nmaking out of port for the shoreless sea of detachment and universal\nsacrifice, she sat shivering; her hand on the helm; the deep waters\nheaving beneath her; the wind blowing bleak and cold; the near waves\ndashing up their spray into her face, and the breakers further out\nroaring and howling like angry floods. There were rocks ahead, and\nall round under those foaming billows; sad havoc had they made of\nmany a brave little boat that had put out to sea from that same\nport where she was still tossing--home, with its sheltering love and\ncare; piety enough to save any well-intentioned soul; good example\nto give and to take; good works to do in plenty, and the body not\noverridden by austerities against nature; not starved to despondency;\nnot exasperated by hunger, and cold, and endless vigils, and prayer\nas endless. It was a goodly port and safe, this home of hers. See\nhow the deep throws up its prey on every side! Wrecks and spars, the\nshattered remnants of bold vessels, and the lifeless bodies of the\nrash crew are everywhere strewn over the waters. \"Take heed!\" they\ncry to her as she counts the records one by one. \"This is an awful\nsea, and bold must be the heart, and stout and iron-clad the boat\nthat tempts the stormy bosom. We came, and perished. Would that we\nhad never left the port!\"\n\nMary never argued with the storm. She would fall at the feet of Him\nwho was \"sleeping below,\" and wake him with the loud cry of trembling\nfaith, \"Help me, Master, or I perish!\" and the storm subsided.\n\nBut when the wind and the waves were hushed, there rose up in the\ncalm a voice sweet and low, but more ruthlessly terrible to her\ncourage than the threatening fury of ten thousand storms. She was\nher father's oldest and darling child; she had a brother, too, and\nsisters, all tenderly loved, and cousins and friends only less dear;\nshe was a joy and a comfort to many. Must she go from them? Must she\nleave all this love and all the loveliness of life for ever?\n\nMary's vocation, notwithstanding its strongly marked supernatural\ncharacter, was not proof against these cruel alternations of\nenthusiastic courage, and desolate heart-sinkings, and bewildering\ndoubts. Nay, they were no doubt a necessary part of its perfection.\nIt was needful that she should pass through the dark watch of\nGethsemani before setting out to climb the rugged hill of Calvary.\n\nAll this history of her interior life she told me _viva voce_ when we\nmet. In her letters, which were at this period very rare and always\nvery uncommunicative, she said nothing whatever of these strifes and\nvictories.\n\nBut her adversaries were not all within. A hard battle remained to\nbe fought with her father. His opposition was active and relentless.\nHe had at first tacitly acquiesced in her consecration to God in a\nreligious life of some sort; but he believed, as every one else did,\nthat to let her enter La Trappe would be to consign her to speedy\nand certain death; and when she announced to him that this was the\norder she had selected, and the one which drew her with the power of\nattraction, that she had struggled in vain to resist, he declared\nthat nothing short of a written mandate from God would induce him to\nconsent to such an act of suicide. In vain Mary pleaded that when\nGod called a soul he provided all that was necessary to enable her\nto answer the call; that her health, formerly so delicate when she\nwas leading a life of self-indulgence, was now completely restored;\nthat she had never been so strong as since she had lived in almost\ncontinual abstinence (she did not eat meat on Wednesday, Friday, or\nSaturday); that the weakness of nature was no obstacle to the power\nof grace, and there are graces in the conventual life that seculars\ndid not dream of, nor receive because they did not need them.\n\nIn answer to these plausible arguments, the incredulous father\nbrought out the laws of nature, and reason and common sense, and the\nopinion of the medical men who had attended her in Dublin, and under\nwhose care she had been more or less ever since. These men of natural\nscience and human sympathies declared positively that it was neither\nmore nor less than suicide to condemn herself to the rule of St.\nBernard in the cloister, where want of animal food and warmth would\ninfallibly kill her before the novitiate was out. They were prepared\nto risk their reputation on the issue of this certificate.\n\nMary's exhaustive answer to all this was that grace was always\nstronger than nature; that the supernatural element would overrule\nand sustain the human one. But she pleaded in vain. Her father was\nresolute. He even went so far as to insist on her returning to\nsociety and seeing more of the world before she was divorced from it\nirrevocably. This check was as severe as it was unexpected. Though\nher disgust to the vanities of her former life continued as strong\nas ever, while her longing for the perfect life grew every day more\nintense and more energizing, her humility made her tremble for her\nown weakness. Might not the strength that had borne her bravely so\nfar break down under the attack of all her old tempters let loose on\nher at once? Her love of pleasure, that fatal enemy that now seemed\ndead, might it not rise up again with overmastering power, and, aided\nby the reaction prepared by her new life, seize her and hold her more\nsuccessfully than ever? Yes, all this was only too possible. There\nwas nothing for it but to brave her father, to defy his authority,\nand to save her soul in spite of him. She must run away from home.\n\nBefore, however, putting this wise determination into practice, it\nwas necessary to consult Father Paul. His answer was what most of\nour readers will suspect:\n\n\"Obedience is your first duty. No blessing could come from such a\nviolation of filial piety. Your father is a Christian. Do as he\nbids you; appeal to his love for your soul not to tax its strength\nunwisely; then trust your soul to God as a little child trusts to its\nmother. He sought you, and pursued you, and brought you home when you\nwere flying from him. Is it likely he will forsake you now, when you\nare seeking after him with all your heart and making his will the\none object of your life? Mistrust yourself, my child. Never mistrust\nGod.\" Mary felt the wisdom of the advice, and submitted to it in a\nspirit of docility, of humble mistrust and brave trust, and made up\nher mind to go through the trial as an earnest of the sincerity of\nher desire to seek God's will, and accomplish it in whatever way he\nappointed.\n\nShe had so completely taken leave of the gay world for more than a\nyear that her reappearance at a county ball caused quite a sensation.\n\nRumor and romance had put their heads together, and explained after\ntheir own fashion the motive of the change in her life and her total\nseclusion from society. Of course, it could only be some sentimental\nreason, disappointed affection, perhaps inadequate fortune or\nposition on one side, and a hard-hearted father on the other, etc.\nWhispers of this idle gossip came to Mary's ears and amused her\nexceedingly. She could afford to laugh at it as there was not the\nsmallest shadow of reality under the fiction.\n\nHer father, whose parental weakness sheltered itself behind the\ndoctors and common sense, did not exact undue sacrifices from her.\nHe allowed her to continue her ascetic rule of life unmolested,\nto abstain from meat as usual, to go assiduously amongst the poor,\nand to devote as much time as she liked to prayer. There were two\nMasses daily in the village church, one at half-past six, another at\nhalf-past seven. He made a difficulty at first about her assisting at\nthem. The church was nearly half an hour's walk from the house, and\nthe cold morning or night air, as it really was, was likely to try\nher severely. But after a certain amount of arguing and coaxing Mary\ncarried her point, and every morning long before daybreak sallied\nforth to the village. Her nurse, who was very pious and passionately\nattached to her, went with her. Not without hesitating, though. Every\nday as regularly as they set out Malone entered a protest.\n\n\"It's not natural, Miss Mary, to be gadding out by candle-light in\nthis fashion, walking about the fields like a pair of ghosts. Indeed,\ndarlin', it isn't.\"\n\nThe nurse was right. It certainly was not natural, and, if Mary had\nbeen so minded, she might have replied that it was not meant to be;\nit was supernatural. She contented herself, however, by deprecating\nthe good soul's reproof and proposing to say the rosary, a proposal\nto which Malone invariably assented. So, waking up the larks with\ntheir matin prayer, the two would walk on briskly to church.\n\nOnce set an Irish nurse to pray, and she'll keep pace with any saint\nin the calendar. Malone was not behind with the best. The devout old\nsoul, never loath to begin, when once on her knees and fairly wound\nup in devotion, would go on for ever, and, when the two Masses were\nover and it was time to go, Mary had generally to break her off in\nthe full tide of a litany that Malone went on muttering all the way\nout of church and sometimes finished on the road home.\n\nBut if she was ready to help Mary in her praying feats, she highly\ndisapproved of the fasting ones, as well as of the short rest\nthat her young mistress imposed on herself. Mary confessed to me\nthat sleep was at this period her greatest difficulty. She was by\nnature a great sleeper, and there was a time when early rising,\neven comparatively early, seemed to her the very climax of heroic\nmortification. By degrees she brought herself to rise at a given\nhour, which gradually, with the help of her angel guardian and a\nstrong resolve, she advanced to five o'clock.\n\nDuring this time of probation, her father took her constantly into\nsociety, to archery meetings, and regattas, and concerts, and balls,\nas the season went on. Mary did her part bravely and cheerfully.\nSometimes a panic seized her that her old spirit of worldliness was\ncoming back--coming back with seven devils to take his citadel by\nstorm and hold it more firmly than ever. But she had only to fix her\neyes steadily on the faithful beacon of the Light-house out at sea,\nand bend her ear to the Life-bell chiming its _Sursum Corda_ far\nabove the moaning of the waves and winds, and her foolish fears gave\nway.\n\nNo one who saw her so bright and gracious, so gracefully pleased with\neverything and everybody, suspected the war that was agitating her\nspirit within. Her father wished her to take part in the dancing,\notherwise he said her presence in the midst of it would be considered\ncompulsory and her abstention be construed into censure or gloom.\nMary acquiesced with regard to the square dances, but resolutely\ndeclined to waltz. Her father, satisfied with the concession, did not\ncoerce her further.\n\nSo things went on for about a year. Father Paul meantime had had\nhis share in the probationary action. He knew that his patient's\nhealth was not strong, and taking into due account her father's\nvehement and up to a certain point just representations on the\nphysical impossibility of her bearing the rule of St. Bernard, he\nendeavored to attract her toward an active order, and used all his\ninfluence to induce her to try at any rate a less austere one before\nentering La Trappe. Animated by the purest and most ardent love for\nthe soul whose precious destinies were placed under his guidance,\nhe left nothing undone to prevent the possibility of mistake or\nultimate regret in her choice. He urged her to go and see various\nother convents and make acquaintance with their mode of life. Seeing\nher great reluctance to do this, he had recourse to stratagem in\norder to compel her unconsciously to examine into the spirit and\nrule of several monastic houses that he held in high esteem. One in\nparticular, a community of Benedictines, I think it was, he thought\nlikely to prove attractive to her as uniting a great deal of prayer\nwith active duties toward the poor, teaching, etc., and at the same\ntime of less crucifying discipline than that of Citeaux. He gave her\na commission for the superioress, with many excuses for troubling\nher, and begging that she would not undertake it if it interfered\nwith any arrangement of her own or her father's just then.\n\nMary, never suspecting the trap that was laid for her, made a point\nof setting out to the convent at once. The superioress, previously\nenlightened by Father Paul, received her with more than kindness,\nand, after discussing the imaginary subject of the visit, invited her\nto visit the chapel, then the house, and finally, drawing her into\nconfidential discourse, explained all about its spirit and manner of\nlife.\n\nMary, in relating this circumstance to me, said that, though the\nsuperioress was one of the most attractive persons she ever met, and\nthe convent beautiful in its appointments, rather than enter it she\nwould have preferred spending the rest of her days in the dangers\nof the most worldly life. Everything but La Trappe was unutterably\nantagonistic to her. Yet, with the exception of Mount Melleray she\nhad never seen even the outside walls of a Cistercian convent, and\nthe fact of there not being one for women in Ireland added one\nobstacle more in the way of her entering La Trappe.\n\nWhen Father Paul heard the result of this last _ruse_, he confessed\nthe truth to her. Noways discouraged, nevertheless he persisted in\nsaying that she was much better fitted for a life of mixed activity\nand contemplation than for a purely contemplative one, and he\nforbade her for a time to let her mind dwell on the latter as her\nultimate vocation, to read any books that treated of it, even to pray\nspecially that she might be led to it. To all these despotic commands\nMary yielded a prompt, unquestioning obedience. She was with God like\na child with a schoolmaster. Whatever lesson he set her, she set\nabout learning it. Easy or difficult, pleasant or unpleasant, it was\nall one to her cheerful good-will. Why do we not all do like her?\nWe are all children at school, but, instead of putting our minds to\ngetting our lesson by heart, we spend the study-hour chafing at the\nhard words, dog-earing our book, and irreverently grumbling at the\nmaster who has set us the task. Sometimes we think in our conceit\nthat it is too easy, that we should do better something difficult.\nWhen the bell rings, we go up without knowing a word of it, and stand\nsulky and disrespectful before the desk. We are chided, and turn\nback, and warned to do better to-morrow. And so we go on from year\nto year, from childhood to youth, from youth to age, never learning\nour lesson properly, but dodging, and missing, and beginning over\nand over again at the same point. Some of us go on being dunces to\nthe end of our lives, when school breaks up, and we are called for\nand taken home--to the home where there are many mansions, but none\nassuredly for the drones who have spent their school-days in idleness\nand mutiny.\n\nTo Father Paul, the childlike submission and humility with which Mary\nmet every effort to thwart her vocation were no doubt more conclusive\nproof of its solidity than the most marked supernatural favors would\nhave been.\n\nAt last her gentle perseverance was rewarded, grace triumphed over\nher father's heart, and he expressed his willingness to give her up\nto God.\n\nIn the summer of 1861, we went to stay at Versailles, and it was\nthere that I received from Mary the first definite announcement of\nher vocation. She wrote to me saying that, after long deliberation\nand much prayer and wise direction, she had decided on entering\na convent of the Cistercian order. As there was no branch of it\nin Ireland, she was to come to France, and she begged me to make\ninquiries as to where the novitiate was, and to let her know with as\nlittle delay as possible. I will not dwell upon my own feelings on\nreading this letter. I had expected some such result, though, knowing\nthe state of her health, it had not occurred to me she could have\njoined, however she might have wished it, so severe an order as that\nof the founder of Citeaux.\n\nI had not the least idea where the novitiate in France was; and, as\nthe few persons whom I was able to question at once on the subject\nseemed to know no more about it than I did myself, the hope flashed\nacross my mind that there might not be a convent of Trappistines at\nall in France. But this was not of long duration.\n\nWe had on our arrival at Versailles made the acquaintance of a young\ngirl whom I shall call Agnes. My mother was already acquainted with\nher parents and other members of the family; but Agnes had either\nbeen at school or absent visiting relations, so from one cause or\nanother we had never met till now. She was seventeen years of age, a\nfair, fragile-looking girl, who reminded most people of Schaeffer's\nMarguerite.\n\nAgnes had a younger sister at the Convent of La Sainte Enfance, not\nfar from her father's residence, and she asked me one day to come\nand see this sister and a nun that she was very fond of. I went,\nand, being full of the thought of my sweet friend in Ireland, I\nimmediately opened the subject of Citeaux with the pretty talkative\nlittle nun who came to the parlor with Agnes's sister.\n\n\"What a singular chance!\" she exclaimed, when I had told as much of\nmy story as was necessary. \"Why, we have at this moment a community\nof Cistercian nuns in the house here! Their monastery is being\nrepaired, and in the meantime we have permission from the bishop to\nharbor them. See,\" she went on, pointing to a row of windows whose\nclosed _Persiennes_ were visible at an angle from where we sat, \"that\nis where our mother has lodged them. You can speak to the prioress,\nif you like, but of course you cannot see her.\"\n\nI was more struck by the strange coincidence than overjoyed at being\nso near the solution of my difficulty. I could not, however, but take\nadvantage of the opportunity. Sister Madeleine, which was the little\nnun's name, ran off to ask \"our mother's\" permission for me to speak\nwith their Cistercian sister, and in a few minutes returned with an\naffirmative.\n\nI was led to the door of the community-room, and, through a little\nextempore grating cut through the panel and veiled on the inside, I\nheld converse with the mother abbess.\n\nA few words assured me that Sister Madeleine had been mistaken in\nsupposing her guests to be the daughters of St. Bernard. They were\nPoor Clares--an order more rigorous, even, than the Trappistines;\nbare feet, except when standing on a stone pavement or in the open\nair, when the rule is to slip the feet into wooden sandals, are added\nto the fasting and perpetual silence of Citeaux. Of this latter\nthe abbess could tell me nothing--nothing, at least, of its actual\nexistence and branches in France, though she broke out into impulsive\nand loving praise of its spirit and its saintly founder, and the rich\nharvest of souls he and his children had reaped for our Lord.\n\nHere, then, was another respite. It really seemed probable that, if,\nin a quarter so likely to be well informed on the point, there was no\naccount to be had of a Trappistine convent, there could not be one in\nexistence, and Mary, from sheer inability to enter La Trappe, might\nbe driven to choose some less terrible rule.\n\nMary meantime had set other inquirers on the track of St. Bernard,\nand soon learned that the novitiate was at Lyons. The name of the\nmonastery is _Notre Dame de toute Consolation_.\n\nAfter some preliminary correspondence with the abbess, the day was\nfixed for her to leave Ireland and set out to her land of promise.\n\nShe came, of course, through Paris. It was three years since we had\nmet. I found her greatly altered; her beauty not gone, but changed.\nShe looked, however, in much better health than I had ever seen her.\nHer spirits were gone, but there had come in their place a serenity\nthat radiated from her like sunshine. We went out together to do some\ncommissions of hers and the better to escape interruption, for this\nwas in all human probability to be our last meeting on earth, and we\nhad much to say to each other.\n\nWe drove first to Notre Dame des Victoires, where, at her constantly\nrecurring desire, I had been in the habit of putting her name down\nfor the prayers of the confraternity, and we knelt once again side by\nside before the altar of our Blessed Lady.\n\nFrom this we went to the Sacr\u00e9 C\u0153ur, where Mary was anxious to see\nsome of her old mistresses and ask their prayers. Perseverance in her\nvocation, and the accomplishment of God's will in her and by her,\nwere the graces she was never weary asking for herself, and imploring\nothers to ask for her. Her greediness for prayers was only equalled\nby her intense faith in their efficacy. She could not resist catering\nfor them, and used to laugh herself at her own importunity on this\npoint.\n\nThe sister who tended the gate gave us a cordial greeting; but, when\nshe heard that Mary was on her way to La Trappe, her surprise was\nalmost ludicrous. If her former pupil had said she was going to be a\nMohammedan, it could not have called up more blank amazement than was\ndepicted in the good sister's face on hearing her say that she was\ngoing to be a Trappistine.\n\nThe mistress of schools and another nun, who had been very kind to\nher during her short stay at the Sacred Heart, came to the parlor. I\nwas not present at the interview, but Mary told me they were quite as\nmuch amazed as the _s\u0153ur porti\u00e8re_.\n\n\"It only shows what a character I left behind me,\" she said, laughing\nheartily as we walked arm in arm. \"My turning out good for anything\nbut mischief is a fact so miraculous that my best friends can hardly\nbelieve in it!\"\n\nIt was during this long afternoon that she told me all the details of\nher vocation which I have already narrated. She seemed transcendently\nhappy, and so lifted by grace above all the falterings of nature as\nto be quite unconscious that she was about to make any sacrifice.\nShe was tenderly attached to her family, but the pangs of separation\nfrom them were momentarily suspended. Her soul had grown strong in\ndetachment. It had grown to the hunger of divine love. Like the\nIsraelites, she had gone out into the desert where the manna fell,\nand she had fed upon it till all other bread was tasteless to her.\n\nWhen I expressed surprise at seeing her so completely lifted above\nhuman affections, and observed that it would save her so much\nanguish, she answered quickly, with a sudden look of pain:\n\n\"Oh! no it will save me none of the suffering. That will all come\nlater, when the sacrifice is made. But I always seem to have\nsupernatural strength given me as long as it remains to be done. I\ntook leave of Father Paul and my dear old nurse, and all the friends\nthat flocked to say good-by, almost without a tear. I felt it so\nlittle that I was disgusted with myself for being so heartless while\nthey were all so tender and distressed; but when it was all over,\nand the carriage had driven out on the road, I thought my heart would\nburst. I didn't dare look back at the house, lest I should cry out to\nthem to take me home. And I know this is how it will be to-morrow.\"\n\n\"And have you thought of the possibility of having to come home after\nall?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes, I have a great deal of it. It is possible my health may fail,\nor that I may have mistaken the will of God altogether in entering La\nTrappe,\" she answered, with a coolness that astonished me.\n\n\"What a trial that would be!\" I exclaimed. \"What a humiliation to\ncome out, after making such a stand about entering!\"\n\nShe laughed quite merrily.\n\n\"Humiliation! And what if it were! I don't care a straw if I go into\nten convents, and come out of them one after another, so long as I\nfind out the right one in the end. What does anything signify but\nfinding out God's will!\"\n\nThere was no mistaking the perfect sincerity of her words. It was as\nclear as sunlight--the one thing necessary, the one thing she cared\none straw about, was finding out the will of God. Human respect\nor any petty human motive had simply gone beyond the range of her\napprehension.\n\n\"And the silence, Mary?\" I said, smiling, as the memory of her old\nschool-day troubles came back on me. \"How will you ever keep it?\nTo me it would be the most appalling part of the discipline of La\nTrappe.\"\n\n\"Well, is it not odd?\" she replied. \"It is so little appalling to\nme that I quite long for it. Sometimes I keep repeating the words,\n'Perpetual silence!' over and over to myself, as if they were a\nmelody. It was it, I think, that decided me for La Trappe instead\nof Carmel, where the rule allows them to speak during recreation. It\nseems to me the hush of tongues must be such a help to union with\nGod. Our tongues are so apt to scare away his presence from our\nsouls.\"\n\nWe came home to dinner. While we were alone in the drawing-room, she\nasked me to play something to her. She had been passionately fond of\nthe harp, and stood by me listening with evident pleasure, and when I\nwas done began to draw out the chords with her finger.\n\n\"Does it not cost you the least little pang to give it up for\never--never to hear a note of music for the rest of your life, Mary?\"\nI said.\n\n\"No, not now. I felt it in the beginning; but the only music that has\na charm for me now is silence.\"\n\nWe parted, never to meet again, till we meet at the judgment-seat.\n\nOn her arrival at Lyons, the fatigue and emotions of the journey told\non her. An agonizing pain in the spine to which she was subject after\nany undue exertion obliged her to remain at the hotel, lying down on\nthe sofa nearly all day.\n\nThe following morning, her father took her to the monastery. Like\nAbraham, he conducted his child to the mount of sacrifice, and with\nhis own hand laid the victim on the altar; but no angel came to\nsnatch away the sacrificial knife and substitute a meaner offering\nfor the holocaust. He left her at the inner gate of La Trappe.\n\nShe wrote to me some weeks after her entrance.\n\n\"I was less brave at parting with my beloved ones than I ought to\nhave been,\" she said; \"but, on account of the pain that kept me lying\ndown in the midst of them nearly all the previous day, I had not\nbeen able to pray as much as usual, and so I had not got up strength\nenough for the trial-time. I seemed to have let go my hold on our\nLord a little and to be leaning on them for courage; but, when I had\nbeen a few hours before the Blessed Sacrament, the pain calmed down,\nand I began to realize how happy I was. I am in great hopes that I\nhave found the will of God.\"\n\nOne trifling incident which gave innocent delight to Mary I must not\nomit to mention.\n\nShe was asked on entering what name she wished to bear in religion,\nand on her replying that she had not thought of one and would rather\nthe prioress chose for her, \"Then we shall call you Mary Benedicta,\"\nsaid the mother. \"The saint has no name-sake amongst us at present.\"\n\nThe only thing that disappointed her in the new life was the mildness\nof the rule and the short time it allotted for prayer!\n\nIt may interest my readers and help them to estimate the spirit of\nthe novice to hear some details of the rule that struck her as too\nmild.\n\nThe Trappistines rise at 2 A.M. winter and summer, and proceed to\nchoir, chanting the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin. Mass,\nmeditation, the recital of the divine office, and household work,\ndistributed to each according to her strength and aptitude and to the\nwants of the community, fill up the time till breakfast, which is\nat 8. The rule relents in favor of those who are unable to bear the\nlong early fast, and they are allowed a small portion of dry bread\nsome hours sooner. I think the novices as a rule are included in\nthis dispensation. The second meal is at 2. The food is frugal but\nwholesome, good bread, vegetables, fish occasionally, and good, pure\nwine. Fire is an unknown luxury, except in the kitchen. The silence\nis perpetual, but the novices are allowed perfect freedom of converse\nwith their mistress, and the professed nuns with the abbess. They\nconverse occasionally during the day amongst each other by signs.\nThey take open-air exercise, and perform manual labor out-of-doors,\ndigging, etc. In-doors, they are constantly employed in embroidering\nand mounting vestments. Some of the most elaborately wrought\nbenediction-veils, copes, chasubles, etc., used in the large churches\nthroughout France, are worked by the Trappistines of Lyons.\n\nThey retire to rest at 8. Their clothing is of coarse wool, inside\nand outside.\n\nMary described the material life of La Trappe as in every sense\ndelightful; the digging, pealing potatoes, and so forth, as most\nrecreative and not at all fatiguing. After her first Lent, she wrote\nme that it had passed so quickly, she \"hardly knew it had begun when\nEaster came.\"\n\nHer only complaint was that it had been too easy, that the\nausterities, \"which were at all times very mild,\" had not been more\nincreased during the penitential season.\n\nMy third letter was on her receiving the holy habit.\n\n\"I wish you could see me in it,\" she said. \"I felt rather odd at\nfirst, but I soon grew accustomed to it, and now it is so light and\npleasant. I am so happy in my vocation I cannot help being almost\nsure that I have found the will of God.\"\n\nThis was the burden of her song for evermore: to find the will of\nGod! And so in prayer and expectation she kept her watch upon the\ntower, her hands uplifted, her ears and her eyes straining night and\nday for every sign and symbol of that blessed manifestation. She kept\nher watch, faithful, ardent, never weary of watching, rising higher\nand higher in love, sinking lower and lower in humility. She had set\nher soul like a ladder against the sky, and the angels were for ever\npassing up and down the rungs, carrying up the incense of the prayer,\nwhich, as soon as it reached the throne of the Lamb, dissolved in\ngraces, and sent the angels flying down earthward again.\n\nThe world went on; the wheel went round; pleasure and folly and sin\nkept up their whirl with unabating force. All things were the same\nas when Mary Benedicta, hearkening to the bell from the sanctuary,\nturned her back upon the vain delusion, and gave up the gauds of time\nfor the imperishable treasures of eternity. Nothing was changed. Was\nit so indeed? To our eyes it was. We could not see what changes were\nto come of it. We could not see the work her sacrifice was doing,\nnor measure the magnitude of the glory it was bringing to God. Poor\nfools! it is always so with us. We see with the blind eyes of our\nbody the things that are of the body. What do we see of the travail\nof humanity in God's creation? The darkness and the pain. Little\nelse. We see a wicked man or a miserable man, and we are filled\nwith horror or with pity. We think the world irretrievably darkened\nand saddened by the sin and the misery that we see, forgetting the\ncounterpart that we do not see--the sanctity and the beauty born of\nrepentance and compassion. We see the bad publican flaunting his\nevil ways in the face of heaven, brawling in the streets and the\nmarket-place; we do not see the good publican who goes up to the\ntemple striking his breast, and standing afar off, and sobbing out\nthe prayer that justifies. We forget that fifty such climbing up to\nheaven make less noise than one sinner tearing down to hell. So with\npain. When sorrow crushes a man, turning his heart bitter and his\nwine sour, we find it hard to believe that so much gall can yield any\nhoney, so much dark let in any light. We cannot see--oh! how it would\nstartle us if we did--how many acts of kindness, how many thoughts\nand deeds of love, are evoked by the sight of his distress. They\nmay not be addressed to him, and he may never know of them, though\nhe has called them into life; they may all be spent upon other men,\nstrangers perhaps, to whom he has brought comfort because of the\nkindliness his sorrow had stirred in many hearts. Some miser has been\ntouched in hearing the tale of his distress, and straightway opened\nhis purse to help the Lazarus at his own door. A selfish woman of the\nworld has foregone some bauble of vanity and given the price to a\ncharity to silence the twinge that pursued her after witnessing his\npatient courage in adversity. There is no end to the small change\nthat one golden coin of love, one act of heroic faith, one chastened\nattitude of Christian sorrow, will send current through the world.\nIt would be easier to number the stars than to count it all up. But\nthe bright little silver pieces pass through our fingers unnoticed.\nWe do not watch for them, neither do we hear them chime and ring as\nthey drop all round us. We do not listen for them. We listen rather\nto the wailing and the hissing, hearkening not at all to the rustle\nof angels' wings floating above the din, nor to the sound of their\ncrystal tears falling through the brine of human woe and lamentation.\n\nOne more virgin heart is given up to the Crucified--one more victory\nwon over nature and the kingdom of this world. One more life is being\nlived away to God in the silence of the sanctuary. Who heeds it? Who\nsees the great things that are coming of it?--the graces obtained,\nthe blessings granted, the temptations conquered, the miracle of\ncompassion won for some life-long sinner, at whose death-bed, cut off\nfrom priest or sacrament, the midnight watcher before the tabernacle\nhas been wrestling in spirit, miles away, with mountains and seas\nbetween them. Only when the seven seals are broken of the Book in\nwhich the secrets of many hearts are written shall these things be\nmade manifest, and the wonders of sacrifice revealed.\n\nMary Benedicta was drawing to the close of her novitiate. So far her\nhealth had stood the test bravely. She had passed the winters without\na cough, a thing that had not happened to her for years. The pain\nin her spine that had constantly annoyed her at home had entirely\ndisappeared.\n\nEvery day convinced her more thoroughly that she had found her true\nvocation, and that she was \"doing the will of God.\" Her profession\nwas fixed for the month of December. She wrote to me a few lines,\ntelling me of her approaching happiness, and begging me to get all\nthe prayers I could for her. Her joy seemed too great for words. It\nwas, indeed, the joy that passes human understanding. I did not hear\nfrom her again, nor of her, till one evening I received a letter from\nIreland announcing to me her death.\n\nTill within a few days of the date fixed for her vows, she had\nbeen to all appearance in perfect health. She followed the rule\nin its unmitigated rigor, never asking nor seemingly needing any\ndispensation. She attended choir during the seven hours' prayer,\nmental and vocal, every day. There were no premonitory symptoms\nof any kind to herald in the messenger that was at hand. Quite\nsuddenly, one morning, at the first matins, she fainted away at her\nplace in the choir. They carried her to the infirmary, and laid her\non a bed. She recovered consciousness after a short time, but on\nattempting to rise fell back exhausted. The infirmarian, in great\nalarm, asked if she was suffering much. Mary smiled and shook her\nhead. Presently she whispered a few words to the abbess, who had\naccompanied her from the choir, and never left her side for a moment.\nIt was to ask that she might be allowed to pronounce her vows at once.\n\nWas this, then, the summons? Yes. She was called for to go home. The\njoy-bells of heaven rang out a merry peal. The golden gates turned\nslowly on their hinges. The Bridegroom stood knocking at the door.\n\nA messenger was dispatched in haste to the archbishop for permission\nto solemnize her profession at once. Monseigneur Bonald granted it,\nand sent at the same time a special apostolic benediction to the\ndying child of St. Bernard.\n\nThat afternoon Mary pronounced her vows in the presence of the\nBlessed Sacrament, and surrounded by the sisterhood, weeping and\nrejoicing.\n\nAn hour later, summoning her remaining strength for a last act of\nfilial tenderness, she dictated a few lines of loving farewell to her\nfather. Then she was silent, calm, and rapt in prayer. Her eyes never\nleft the crucifix. The day past and the night. She was still waiting.\nAt daybreak the Bridegroom entered, and she went home with him.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[29] A French child's word for _hurt_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LORD CHANCELLORS OF IRELAND[30]\n\n\nThe most indefatigable student of the history of Ireland is, at\nsome time or another, sure to become wearied of, if not positively\ndisgusted at, the interminable series of foreign and domestic wars,\nbase treachery, and wholesale massacre which unfortunately stain the\nannals of that unhappy country for nearly one thousand years; and\nwere it not that the study of profane history is a duty imposed upon\nus not only as an essential part of our education, but as a source\nrich in the philosophy of human nature, there are few, we believe,\neven among the most enthusiastic lovers of their race or the most\nindustrious of book-worms, who would patiently peruse the long and\ndreary record of persistent oppression and unfaltering but unavailing\nresistance.\n\nThe few centuries of pagan greatness preceding the arrival of St.\nPatrick, seen through the dim mist of antiquity, appear to have been\nperiods of comparative national prosperity; and the earlier ages of\nChristianity in the island were not only in themselves resplendent\nwith the effulgence of piety and learning which enshrouded the land\nand illumined far and near the then eclipsed nations of Europe, but\nwere doubly brilliant by contrast with the darkness that subsequently\nfollowed the repeated incursions of the merciless northern Vikings,\nto whom war was a trade, and murder and rapine the highest of human\npursuits.\n\nThe ultimate defeat of those barbarians in the early part of\nthe eleventh century brought little or no cessation of misery\nto the afflicted people; for, with the death of the Conqueror,\nthe illustrious King Brian, in the moment of victory, no man of\nsufficient statesmanship or military ability appeared who was\ncapable of uniting the disorganized people under a general system\nof government, or of compelling the obedience of the disaffected\nand semi-independent chiefs. The evils of the preceding wars were\nnumerous and grievous. The husbandman was impoverished, commerce had\nfled the sea-ports before the dreaded standard of the carrion Raven,\nlearning had forsaken her wonted abodes for other climes and more\npeaceful scenes, and even the religious establishments which had\nescaped the destroyer no longer harbored those throngs of holy men\nand women formerly the glory and benefactors of the island. It was in\nthis disintegrated and demoralized condition that the enterprising\nAnglo-Normans of the following century found the once warlike and\nlearned Celtic people; and as the new-comers were hungry for land and\nnot overscrupulous as to how it was to be obtained, the possession of\nthe soil on one side, and its desperate but unorganized defence on\nthe other, gave rise to those desultory conflicts, cruel reprisals,\nand horrible butcheries which only ended, after nearly five hundred\nyears of strife, in the almost utter extirpation of the original\nowners.\n\nHad the Norman invasion ended with Strongbow and Henry II., or had\nit been more general and successful, as in England, the evil would\nhave been limited; but as every decade poured into Ireland its\nhordes of ambitious, subtle, and landless adventurers, who looked\nupon Ireland as the most fitting place to carve their way to fame\nand fortune, new wars of extermination were fomented, and the wounds\nthat afflicted the country were kept constantly open. To facilitate\nthe designs of the new-comers, the mass of the people were outlawed,\nand the punishment for killing a native, when inflicted, which was\nseldom, was a small pecuniary fine. The efforts of the \"Reformers\"\nto convert by force or fraud the ancient race and the bulk of the\ndescendants of the original Anglo-Normans, who vied with each other\nin their attachment to the church, perpetuated even in a worse form\nthe civil strife which had so long existed between the races, and\nterminated, at the surrender of Limerick, in the complete prostration\nof the nation. But it was only for a while. The extraordinary revival\nof the faith in Ireland, and its substantial triumphs in recent\nyears, almost make us forget and forgive the persecutions of \"the\npenal days,\" and not the least of these auspicious results is the\nappearance of the noble book before us, written by a distinguished\ngentleman of the legal profession of the ancient race and religion.\n\nIn his voluminous work, Mr. O'Flanagan, avoiding all matter foreign\nto his subject, and touching as lightly on wars and confiscations as\npossible, while relating succinctly and carefully the lives of the\nnumerous lord chancellors of Ireland, necessarily gives us a history\nof English policy and legislation in that country in an entirely new\nform, and fills up in its historical and legal records a hiatus long\nrecognized on both sides of the Atlantic. In ordinary histories, we\nsee broadly depicted the effects of foreign invasion and domestic\nbroils: in the _Lives_, we are permitted to have a view of the most\nsecret workings of the viceregal government and of the managers of\nthe so-called Irish Parliament; of the causes which governed British\nstatesmen in their treatment of the sister kingdom, and the motive of\nevery step taken by the dominant faction of the Pale, supported by\nthe wealth and power of a great nation, to subdue a weak neighboring\npeople, who, though few in numbers, isolated and disorganized,\npossessed a high degree of civilization and a vitality that rose\nsuperior to all defeat. The book has also this advantage, that, while\nit supplies the links that bind causes with effects and develops in a\ncritical spirit the true philosophy of history, it neither shocks our\nsensibilities uselessly with the perpetual narration of mental and\nphysical suffering, nor tires us with vain speculations on what might\nhave been had circumstances been different. The author is content to\naccept the inevitable, and deals exclusively with the subject in hand.\n\nThe partial success of Strongbow in conjunction with the Leinster\ntroops induced Henry II. to project a visit to Ireland, partly\nfrom a fear that his ambitious subject might be induced by the\nallurements of his newly acquired greatness to forget his pledge\nof fealty and allegiance, and partly in the hope that his presence\nwith an armed retinue would so overawe the native princes that their\nentire submission would follow as a matter of course. He therefore\nlanded at Waterford, in 1172, and after visiting Lismore, where\na provincial synod was being held, entered Dublin on the 11th of\nNovember of that year. But though he remained in that city during the\ngreater part of the winter, surrounded by all the pomp of medi\u00e6val\nroyalty, his blandishments were only partly successful in winning\nany of the prominent chieftains to acknowledge his assumed title\nof Lord of Ireland. He rested long enough, however, to establish\na form of provincial government for the guidance and protection\nof the Anglo-Normans, and such of the Irish of Dublin, Kildare,\nMeath, Wexford, and of the surrounding counties as acknowledged\nhis jurisdiction, and these became what was long afterwards known\nas the English Pale. The head of this system was the personal\nrepresentative of the monarch, appointed and removed at his pleasure,\nand called at various times lord deputy, viceroy, chief governor,\nand lord-lieutenant, and in case of his absence or death a temporary\nsuccessor was to be chosen by the principal nobles of the Pale,\nuntil his return or the appointment of his successor by the king. In\nthe year 1219, during the reign of Henry III., the laws of England\nwere extended to the Anglo-Norman colony, and a chancellor in the\nperson of John de Worchely was appointed to assist the viceroy in the\nadministration of the laws and public affairs.\n\nThe office of chancellor, or, as he was afterwards styled, lord high\nchancellor, was known to the Romans, and many of its peculiar duties\nand powers are directly derived from the civil law. In England, its\nestablishment may be considered as contemporary with the Norman\nconquest, and from the first it assumed the highest importance in the\nstate. \"The office of chancellor or lord keeper,\" says Blackstone,\n\"is created by the mere delivery of the great seal into his custody,\nwhereby he becomes the first officer in the kingdom and takes\nprecedence of every temporal peer. He is a privy counsellor by virtue\nof his office, and, according to Lord Ellismore, prolocutor of the\nHouse of Lords by prescription. To him belongs the appointment of all\nthe justices of the peace throughout the kingdom. Being formerly,\nusually, an ecclesiastic presiding over the king's chapel, he became\nkeeper of his conscience, visitor in his right of all hospitals\nand colleges of royal foundation, and patron of all his livings\nunder the annual value of twenty pounds, etc. All this exclusive\nof his judicial capacity in the Court of Chancery, wherein, as in\nthe Exchequer, is a common law court and a court of equity.\"[31] In\nIreland, while the chancellor exercised the same functions within\na more contracted sphere, his political power and duties were more\ndirectly and frequently felt. The viceroys, particularly those of\nthe early periods, were generally soldiers expressly deputed to\nhold the conquests already gained, and to enlarge by force of arms\nthe possessions of the Anglo-Norman adventurers. They were little\nskilled in the arts of government, and, from their short terms and\nfrequent removals, knew little of and cared less for the people\nthey were temporarily sent to govern.[32] The chancellors, on the\ncontrary, were the reverse, being from the first up to the reign of\nHenry VIII., with a few exceptions, ecclesiastics, generally men well\nversed in law and letters, and having been usually at an early age\nselected from the inferior ranks of the English clergy and promoted\nto the highest positions in the church in Ireland, as a preliminary\nstep to their appointment to the most important judicial and\nlegislative office in the colony, they had every inducement to become\nfamiliar with its affairs and with the dispositions and influence of\nthe people among whom their lot in life was cast. \"Learned men were\nthose chancellors,\" says O'Flanagan, \"for the most part prelates of\nhighly cultivated minds, attached to the land of their birth, while\nexercising important sway over the destinies of Ireland.\"\n\nFor the first two hundred years after the creation of the office of\nchancellor, very little can be gleaned by the author of the _Lives_,\nexcept the mere names, date of patents, and a few dry facts usually\nconnected with well-known historical events. The destruction by fire\nof St. Mary's Abbey in Dublin, at the beginning of the fourteenth\ncentury, and of the Castle of Trim, in both of which valuable\npublic records were kept, accounts to some extent for this paucity\nof materials, while, as he says, \"others were carried out of the\ncountry, and are met with in the State Paper Office, the Rolls\nChapel, Record Office, and British Museum, in London; others are\nat Oxford. Several cities on the Continent possess valuable Irish\ndocuments, while many are stored in private houses, which the recent\ncommission will no doubt render available\"--a sad commentary upon the\nway in which everything relating to the history of the country has\nbeen neglected by that government which so frequently parades its\npaternal inclinations.\n\nThe want of judicial business during this period was amply\ncompensated for by repeated but vain efforts to reconcile the\ndifferent factions into which the colonists of the Pale were divided,\nand to prevent the followers of the rival houses of Ormond and\nKildare from open warfare whenever the slightest provocation was\noffered by either side. While the power of England was expended in\nforeign wars or in the internecine struggles of the Roses, her grasp\non the dominion of Ireland was becoming every day more relaxed, and\nit was only by the judicious pitting of one party against another, by\nalternate threats and bribes, that even the semblance of authority\ncould be maintained at all times. Thus, in 1355, Edward III., writing\nto the Earl of Kildare, uses the following emphatic words:\n\n    \"Although you know of these invasions, destructions,\n    or dangers, and have been often urged to defend\n    these marches jointly with others, you have neither\n    sped thither nor sent that force of men which you\n    were strongly bound to have done for the honor of an\n    earl, and for the safety of those lordships, castles,\n    lands, and tenements, which, given and granted to your\n    grandfather by our grandfather, have thus descended to\n    you. Since you neither endeavor to prevent the perils,\n    ruin, and destruction threatening these parts, in\n    consequence of your neglect, nor attend to the orders\n    of ourselves or our council, we shall no longer be\n    trifled with,\" etc.\n\nThis was strong language, but fully justified by the unsettled\ncondition of affairs in and outside the Pale. Chancellor de Wickford,\nArchbishop of Dublin, who was appointed in 1375, found that his\nsacred calling and official dignity were no protection to him even\nin the vicinity of the capital, and was therefore allowed a guard of\nsix men-at-arms and twelve archers, while the lord treasurer had the\nsame number. Nor was this precaution taken against the Irish enemy\nalone, for we find that Thomas de Burel, Prior of Kilmainham, when\nchancellor, while holding a parley with De Bermingham at Kildare,\nwas, with his attendant lords, taken prisoner. The lay noblemen were\nransomed, but the prior was kept a prisoner only to be exchanged for\none of the De Berminghams then confined in Dublin Castle. This family\nseem to have held the judicial officers somewhat in contempt, for\nwe read at another time that Adam Veldom, Chief Chancery Clerk, was\ncaptured by them and the O'Connors, and obliged to pay ten pounds in\nsilver for his release. When John Cotton, Dean of St. Patrick's, was\nappointed chancellor in 1379, and commenced his tour, accompanied by\nthe viceroy, from Dublin to Cork, he was allowed for his personal\nretinue, independent of his servants and clerks, not very formidable\nopponents, it is to be presumed, \"four men-at-arms armed at all\npoints, and eight mounted archers,\" a circumstance which shows that\nthe Irish and many of the Anglo-Irish of the country had very little\nreverence for the person of even an English chancellor.\n\nIn 1398, Dr. Thomas Cranley was sent over to Dublin as its archbishop\nand chancellor of the colony, and from his high position and known\nability it was expected that he would not only remedy the disorders\nof the Pale, but bring back the great lords to a sense of their\nduty to the king, and devise measures for the collection of his\nrevenues, which these noblemen did not seem inclined to pay with\nthe alacrity befitting obedient subjects. After several years of\nfruitless endeavors to effect these objects, he was obliged to write\nto King Henry IV. for funds to support his son, who was then acting\nas viceroy. \"With heavy hearts,\" says the chancellor, speaking for\nthe privy council, \"we testify anew to your highness that our lord,\nyour son, is so destitute of money that he has not a penny in the\nworld, nor can borrow a single penny, because all his jewels and his\nplate that he can spare of those that he must of necessity have, are\npledged and be in pawn. All his soldiers have departed from him,\nand the people of his household are on the point of leaving him.\"\nAnd he further significantly adds, \"For the more full declaring of\nthese matters to your highness, three or two of us should have come\nto your high presence, but such is the danger on this side that not\none of us dare depart from the person of our lord.\" This was indeed\na sad condition for the son of the reigning monarch and his council\nto find themselves in, while the Talbots, Butlers, and Fitzgeralds\nwere feasting on the fat of the land surrounded by thousands of their\nwell-paid followers. Again, in 1435, when Archbishop Talbot was\nchancellor, the council through that prelate addressed a memorial to\nthe king, in which the following remarkable passage occurs:\n\n    \"First, that it please our sovereign lord graciously\n    to consider how this land of Ireland is well-nigh\n    destroyed and inhabited with his enemies and rebels,\n    insomuch that there is not left in the northern parts\n    of the counties of Dublin, Meath, Louth, and Kildare,\n    that join together out of subjection of the said\n    enemies and rebels, scarcely thirty miles in length and\n    twenty miles in breadth, as a man may surely ride or\n    go, in the said counties, to answer to the king's writs\n    and to his commandments.\"\n\nThis extraordinary admission, made two hundred and sixty-six years\nafter the landing of the Normans, would be almost incredible did\nit rest on less weighty authority. This was the time for the Irish\npeople to have regained their freedom, and, had they had half as much\nof the spirit of nationality and organization as they possessed of\nvalor and endurance, a decisive blow might easily have been struck\nthat would have for ever ended the English power in their island. But\nthe propitious moment was allowed to pass, and dearly did they pay in\nafter-times for their supineness and folly.\n\nThe dissensions were not confined to the natives. The quarrels and\nbickerings of the nobles and officials of the Pale seemed to invite\ndestruction. Rival parliaments were held; viceroys who were attached\nby policy or affection to the houses of York and Lancaster contended\nin the Castle of Dublin for the legitimacy of their respective\nfactions; and even the Lord Chancellor Sherwood, Bishop of Meath,\nand the members of the privy council, whose office and duty it was\nto preserve the peace between all parties, were found the most\nturbulent; \"the chancellor and chief-justice of the king's bench\nrequiring the interposition of the king to keep them quiet, while the\nIrish so pressed upon the narrow limits of the English settlements\nthat the statute requiring cities and boroughs to be represented by\ninhabitants of the same was obliged to be repealed upon the express\nground that representatives could not be expected to encounter, on\ntheir journeys to parliament, the great perils incident from the\nking's Irish enemies and English rebels, for it is openly known how\ngreat and frequent mischiefs have been done on the ways both in the\nsouth, north, east, and west parts, by reason whereof they may not\nsend proctors, knights, nor burgesses.\"[33] Such was the condition of\nIreland in A.D. 1480, just three centuries after the advent of Henry\nII. to her shores.\n\nOne of the principal duties of the Irish lord chancellors, even to\nthe very moment of its extinction, was the management of the Irish\nparliament. The body that for so many centuries bore that pretentious\ntitle, but which never spoke the voice of even a respectable minority\nof the people, is said to have owed its origin to the second Henry,\nthough according to Whiteside, who follows the authority of Sir John\nDavies, no parliament was held in the country for one hundred and\nforty years after that king's visit.[34] Except in an antiquarian\npoint of view, the matter is of little importance, as such gatherings\nin Ireland, even more so than those of England, could not at that\ntime be called either representative or deliberative bodies, for\ntheir members were not chosen by even a moiety of the people, and\nthey were mere instruments in the hands of the governing powers,\nwho moulded them at will when they desired to impose new taxes or\nunjust laws on the people, ostensibly with their own sanction. From\nthe days of Simon de Montfort to those of George IV., the English\nparliamentary system has been an ingeniously devised engine of\ngeneral oppression under the garb of popular government.\n\nOf the ancient parliaments, the most famous was that held at Kilkenny\nduring the chancellorship of John Trowyk, Prior of St. John, in\n1367, at which was passed the statute bearing the name of that\nbeautiful city. Though the name only of the chancellor, who doubtless\nwas the author _ex officio_, has come down to us, that delectable\nspecimen of English legislation is doubtless destined to survive\nthe changes of time, and expire only with the language itself. It\nprohibited marriage, gossipred, and fostering between the natives\nand the Anglo-Irish under penalty of treason, also selling to the\nformer upon any condition horses, armor, or victuals, under a like\npenalty. All persons of either nationality living in the Pale were\nto use the English language, names, customs, dress, and manner of\nriding. No Irishman was to be admitted to holy orders, nor was any\nminstrel, story-teller, or rhymer to be harbored. English on the\nborders should hold no parley with their Irish neighbors, except by\nspecial permission, nor employ them in their domestic wars. Irish\ngames were not to be indulged in, but should give place to those of\nthe English, as being more \"gentlemanlike sports.\" Any infraction\nof these provisions was to be punished with rigor, for, says the\npreamble to the act, \"many of the English of Ireland, discarding the\nEnglish tongue, manners, style of riding, laws, and usages, lived\nand governed themselves according to the mode, fashion, and language\nof the Irish enemies,\" etc., whereby the said \"Irish enemies were\nexalted and raised up contrary to reason.\" This enactment is perhaps\nwithout a parallel in the history of semi-civilized legislation, if\nwe except that passed at a parliament held at Trim in 1447, and for\nwhich we are indebted to no less a person than the Archbishop of\nDublin, lord chancellor at that period. It enacts \"that those who\nwould be taken for Englishmen (that is, within the protection of law)\nshould not wear a beard on the upper lip; that the said lip should be\nshaved once at least in every two weeks, and that offenders therein\nshould be treated as Irish enemies.\" As no provision was inserted\nin the statute providing for the supply of razors, or mention made\nof the appointment of state barbers, we presume it soon became\ninoperative.\n\nBy such penal legislation it was weakly supposed the evils of the\ncountry could be cured most effectually, but, unfortunately for the\nlawmakers, it was easier to pass statutes than to enforce them. On\nthe mass of the people they had no effect whatever, except, perhaps,\nto bind them faster to their ancient laws and customs, and he would\nhave been a bold officer indeed who would have attempted to carry\nthem out, even among the Anglo-Irish families outside of the Pale;\nfor we find that, at a parliament held in Dublin in 1441, under the\nsupervision of Archbishop Talbot, a strong request was made to the\nking to furnish troops for the defence of the colony, the privy\ncouncil having some time previously represented \"that the king\nshould ordain that the Admiral of England should, in summer season,\nvisit the coasts of Ireland to protect the merchants from the Scots,\nBretons, and Spaniards, who came thither with their ships stuffed\nwith men of war in great numbers, seizing the merchants of Ireland,\nWales, and England, and holding them to ransom.\"[35]\n\nThe selfish but sagacious policy of Henry VII. had done so much\nto remedy the evils inflicted on England by the wars of the Roses\nthat when his son, Henry VIII., ascended the throne in 1509, he\nfound a united and contented people, a well-filled treasury, and a\nsubservient parliament. The character of this notorious ruler is too\nwell known to need comment, and the effects of his crimes are still\nperceptibly felt by the country that had the misfortune to have given\nhim birth. His influence on Irish affairs, though more disastrous\nin its immediate results, has happily long since been obliterated.\nDr. Rokeby, Bishop of Meath, and afterward Archbishop of Dublin,\nfirst appointed chancellor in 1498, was retained in his office by the\nnew king. He is represented as a man of marked piety and learning,\nbut he would have been unfitted to fill an office under the English\ncrown had he allowed any scruples of conscience to stand between him\nand the behests of his royal master. What these were may be judged\nfrom a passage in a private letter from Henry to his viceroy. \"Now,\"\nhe writes, \"at the beginning, political practices may do more good\nthan exploits of war, till such time as the strength of the Irish\nenemy shall be enfeebled and diminished; as well by getting their\ncaptains from them, as by putting division among them, so that they\njoin not together\"[36]--an advice eminently suggestive, but by no\nmeans new, for the policy of arraying the Irish against each other\nhad been practised long before with fatal effect. Rokeby held the\ngreat seal for twenty-one years, and his long term was marked by his\nsuccessful efforts to reconcile the hostile Anglo-Irish factions, his\nnegotiations with the native chiefs, for the purpose of inducing them\nto acknowledge the sovereignty of Henry, and the consequent extension\nof the functions of the courts over the greater part of the island.\nThe success of the first and last of these measures was mainly due to\nthe personal efforts of the lord chancellor, and the submission of\nthe Irish party resulted from the loss of the battle of Knocktough,\nin 1504, and the favorable promises held out by the chancellor\nand viceroy, inducements, it is needless to say, which were never\nfulfilled. He was succeeded by the two St. Lawrences, father and\nson, of whom nothing notable is recorded, but that they were laymen\nand natives of the soil; and by Archbishop Ingle, who, however, held\noffice for but one year.\n\nThe next ecclesiastical chancellor was Dr. Alan, commissioned in\n1528. This distinguished official was remarkable not only for his\ngreat mental capacity, but as a not unfavorable sample of the English\npolitical churchmen of the era immediately preceding the so-called\n\"Reformation\"--men who, by their laxity of faith and worldly\nambition, paved the way for the subsequent grand march of heresy and\nimmorality. Born in England in 1476, he studied with credit both at\nOxford and Cambridge, and at an early age entered the priesthood. His\nvaried acquirements and experience of mankind gained him, in 1515,\nthe degree of doctor of laws and the confidence of the Archbishop\nof Canterbury, then Lord Chancellor of England, by whom he was\nsent to Rome on a special mission. On his return, he was appointed\nchaplain to Cardinal Wolsey, and judge of his legantine court. In\nboth capacities he appears to have given satisfaction, particularly\nin the latter, in which he materially assisted the ambitious cardinal\nin suppressing certain monasteries, and appropriating the revenues,\nit is more than suspected, to his own and his patron's use. For these\nservices he was rewarded with the archbishopric of Dublin and the\nIrish chancellorship. His two great vices, avarice and the love of\nintrigue, became now fully developed. When not begging for increase\nof salary or emoluments, he was writing scandalous letters to his\nfriends at the English court, complaining of the conduct of the\nviceroy, the unfortunate Earl of Kildare, and it was mainly through\nhis instrumentality, supported by Wolsey, that that nobleman was\ncalled to England and committed to the Tower of London. His next step\nwas to circulate a false report that the earl had been executed. This\nled, as he anticipated, to the rebellion of Kildare's son and deputy,\nbetter known as Silken Thomas, and a number of Irish chiefs with\nwhom the Fitzgeralds were allied, and, upon its suppression, to the\nconfiscation of vast estates in Leinster and Munster. But Alan did\nnot live long enough to behold the result of his sanguinary policy.\nAlarmed at the storm he had raised, he endeavored to escape from\nthe country, but the elements seem to have conspired against him,\nfor he was cast ashore near Clontarf, and, on being discovered by\nsome of Thomas's followers, he was put to death. He was succeeded as\nchancellor by Cromer, Archbishop of Armagh, who was, however, shortly\nafter deprived of his office for his unflinching opposition to\nHenry's absurd pretensions of being considered \"Head of the Church.\"\nIt was of this prelate that Browne, the king's Archbishop of Dublin,\nwrote to Lord Henry Cromwell, in 1635, \"that he had endeavored,\nalmost to the hazard and danger of his temporal life, to procure\nthe nobility and gentry of this nation to due obedience in owning\nhis highness their supreme head, as well spiritual as temporal; and\ndo find much oppugning therein, especially by his brother Armagh,\nwho hath beene the main oppugner, and so hath withdrawn most of his\nsuffragans and clergy within his see and diocese.\"[37]\n\nUnable to coerce or cajole the Pope, Henry at length threw down the\ngauntlet to the Holy Father, and, emboldened doubtless by the ready\nsubmission of the English, resolved to enforce his new ideas of\nreligion on the people of Ireland. The parliament of that country,\npliant as ever, voted him king of Ireland and head of the church,\nand would as willingly have conferred on him any other title, no\nmatter how far-fetched or absurd, had he desired it. Archbishop\nBrowne, of Dublin, was a Christian after the king's own heart, and,\nin his way, as consistent and as zealous a reformer; and with the\nchancellor, Lord Trimblestown, at the laboring-oar, the task of\nconverting the Irish to the new faith was considered quite easy.\nHere and there a stubborn recusant was anticipated, but were there\nnot monasteries and nunneries enough to be confiscated, and lands\nand revenues to be given away, to satisfy those benighted adherents\nto the old faith? A grand tour of proselytism throughout the country\nwas therefore projected, and the lord chancellor, the archbishop, and\nthe other members of the privy council sallied out, accompanied by\ntheir men-at-arms, procurants, clerks, and retainers, to expound the\nGospel according to King Henry, and to enforce their doctrines, if\nall else failed, by the carnal weapons of the lash and halter. They\nvisited in succession Carlow, Kilkenny, Ross, Wexford, and Waterford,\nwhere they are mindful to acknowledge \"they were well entertained.\"\nThe archbishop on Sundays \"preached the word of God, having very\ngood audience, and published the king's injunctions and the king's\ntranslation of the _Pater Noster_, _Ave Maria_, the Articles of\nFaith, and the Ten Commandments in English,\" while on week-days\nthe chancellor took his share of the good work; for, continues the\nreport, \"the day following we kept the sessions there (Waterford)\nboth for the city and the shire, where was put to execution four\nfelons, accompanied by another, a friar, whom, among the residue,\nwe commanded to be hanged in his habit, and so to remain upon the\ngallows for a mirror to all his brethren to live truly.\"[38] This\njudicious mixture of preaching and hanging, the Lord's Prayer and the\nstatute of Kilkenny, it was thought, would have a salutary effect\non the souls and bodies of unbelievers, and was a fitting form of\nintroducing the Reformation to the consideration of the Irish people.\n\nThe war on the faith of the nation having been thus openly and\nauspiciously inaugurated, we must henceforth look upon the\nchancellors of Ireland not only as the persistent defenders of the\nEnglish interest in that country, but as the most dangerous because\nthe most insidious and influential enemies of Catholicity.\n\nSir John Alan was appointed chancellor in 1539, and in the following\nyear we find him at the head of a royal commission for the\nsuppression of religious houses. The authority to the commissioners\nsets forth, with a mendacity never surpassed in a state paper,\nand rarely paralleled, even in the worst days of anti-Catholic\npersecution, the following pretexts for striking a deadly blow at the\nbulwarks of charity, religion, and learning:\n\n    \"That from information of trustworthy persons, it being\n    manifestly apparent that the monasteries, abbies,\n    priories, and other places of religious or regulars\n    in Ireland are, at present, in such a state that in\n    them the praise of God and the welfare of man are next\n    to nothing regarded, the regulars and others dwelling\n    there being addicted, partly to their own superstitious\n    ceremonies, partly to the pernicious worship of\n    idols, and to the pestiferous doctrines of the Roman\n    Pontiff, that unless an effectual remedy be promptly\n    provided, not only the weak lower order, but the\n    whole Irish people, may be speedily infected to their\n    total destruction by the example of these persons. To\n    prevent, therefore, the longer continuance of such\n    religious men and nuns in so damnable a state, the\n    king, having resolved to resume into his own hands all\n    the monasteries and religious houses, for their better\n    reformation, to remove from them the religious men and\n    women, and cause them to return to some honest mode of\n    living, and to true religion, directs the commissioners\n    to signify this his intention to the heads of religious\n    houses,\" etc.[39]\n\nIt is unnecessary to say that this measure of wholesale spoliation\nwas promptly and thoroughly carried out. The thousand ruins that dot\nthe island attest it, and the title-deeds of many a nobleman's broad\nacres bear date no earlier than this edict of the greatest monster\nthat ever disgraced the British throne.\n\nFrom this time forth, the lord chancellors found their best passport\nto royal favor in devising measures for the destruction of the\npopular faith. Being generally needy adventurers, with nothing but\ntheir legal knowledge and facile consciences to begin the world\nwith, they neither loved the country nor respected the people,\nand their titles and wealth depended simply on their zeal for\nProtestantism. Of the hundreds of penal laws which disgrace the\nstatute-book of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, every one\nof them owes its inception and enactment to one or another of those\nsubtle-minded officials who, as the head of the lords, president of\nthe privy council, and the dispenser of vast judicial and executive\npatronage, had a potent influence in all public affairs. They\ncontinued industriously to carry out the designs of Henry during the\nsuccessive reigns of his worthy daughter Elizabeth, the Stuarts,\nWilliam, Anne, and the House of Brunswick. Even when the fears of\nforeign invasion in 1760, and the noble resistance of the fathers\nof our republic some years later, had awakened the fears of the\nBritish authorities and induced them to relax somewhat the chains\nof the Catholics, the voice of the lord chancellors was still for\nwar. Apart, however, from this spirit of intolerance which seemed to\nbe naturally attached to the office, it must be confessed that from\nthe days of Henry the great seal was held by many able lawyers and\ndistinguished statesmen, some of whom were not unknown in the world\nof letters as authors and liberal patrons of learning and science.\nThe names of Curwan, Loftus (who founded Trinity College University),\nBoyle, Porter, Butler, Cox, Broderick, Bowles, and many others,\noccupy honored positions in the legal annals of Great Britain and\nIreland, and their lives, full of incident and variety, are fully and\nfairly placed before us by Mr. O'Flanagan.\n\nThe treaty of union in 1800, by which Ireland lost her parliament,\nand legislatively became a province, deprived the Irish chancellors\nof much of their original political power; though, strange as it may\nappear, this object was effected mainly through the exertions of Lord\nClare, who at that time held the office. In this man's character,\ndistinguished as it was for many private virtues, and for every\npublic vice that it is possible to conceive, were united the good and\nbad qualities of all his predecessors, joined to a wonderful mental\ncapacity which far surpassed them all. Born in Ireland, he was of\nEnglish extraction and more than English in feeling, and, though of\nan exemplary Catholic stock, he was the son of an apostate clerical\nstudent, a most violent Protestant and a rancorous proscriptionist.\nA profound jurist and an upright judge in purely legal matters, his\nanti-Catholic prejudices seemed totally to have warped his judgment\nwhenever the question of religion presented itself, and, though a\nsteadfast friend in private of those who agreed with or did not care\nto differ from him, he never failed to carry into official life the\nhatreds and animosities engendered in political struggles or domestic\nintercourse. A powerful orator, full of strong legal points, logical\npropositions, and keen, and sometimes coarse, sarcasm, he ruled his\nparty with a rod of iron, and, when persuasion and threats failed, he\nhesitated not to use bribes and cajolery. His mental energy was equal\nto any amount of labor, and his physical courage was beyond question,\neven in a country and age where bravery was ranked among the highest\nof virtues. Such was John Fitzgibbon, first Earl of Clare, born near\nDublin in 1749, a man pre-eminently fitted by Providence to adorn\nhis country and benefit mankind, but who perverted his great gifts\nand employed them with too much success in destroying that country's\nremnant of independence, and in devising new methods of persecution\nfor his Catholic relatives and countrymen. He died in the plenitude\nof his power in 1802; his name when mentioned is reprobated by all\ngood men in the nation he betrayed; his title, so ingloriously won,\nis extinct; and his bench in Chancery and his seat in the House of\nLords are filled by one of that race and creed which he so cordially\ndetested and so ruthlessly persecuted.[40] _Sic transit gloria\nmundi._\n\nMr. O'Flanagan brings down his _Lives_ to the time of George IV., but\nthis latter portion of his valuable collection of biographies belongs\nmore to the domain of law than of history. Indeed, the entire work\nis full of curious and interesting information which will be highly\nprized by the legal profession. What the late Lord Campbell has done\nso well for the English chancellors, the author has endeavored to\ndo for those of Ireland, and with equal success, notwithstanding\nthe scarcity of materials and the loose manner in which the Irish\nrecords have been kept. One of the most attractive features of this\nbook is the total absence of passion or prejudice in the narrative of\nevents and estimation of character; but every necessary circumstance\nis detailed in a plain, lucid, and intelligible style, and with\nsomething of judicial gravity and impartiality befitting so important\na subject. As far as the author's own political predilections are\nconcerned--and we suspect that they are by no means intensely\nnational--the tone of the book may be said to be colorless, a\npeculiarity in modern biography which, while it may detract from\nits vivacity, will certainly add much weight to its value as an\nauthority. We are promised a sequel to the chancellors, containing\nthe lives of the lord chief-justices, which we hope will soon appear,\nfor the more light that is shed on those darkened pages of Ireland's\nhistory, the better for the cause of truth, justice, and humanity.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[30] _The Lives of the Lord Chancellors and the Keepers of the Great\nSeal of Ireland_, from the Earliest Times to the Reign of Queen\nVictoria. By J. Roderick O'Flanagan, M.R.I.A. Two vols. pp. 555,\n621. London: Longmans Green & Co. New York: The Catholic Publication\nSociety.\n\n[31] _Com. on the Laws of England, p. 429 et seq._\n\n[32] Between 1172 and 1200, Ireland had no fewer than _seventeen_\nchief governors. In the thirteenth century, they numbered\n_forty-six_; in the fourteenth, _ninety-three_; in the fifteenth,\n_eighty-five_; in the sixteenth, _seventy-six_; in the seventeenth,\n_seventy-nine_; and in the eighteenth, _ninety-four_.--_O'Flanagan_,\nvol. i. p. 293.\n\n[33] O'Flanagan, vol. i. p. 130.\n\n[34] _Life and Death of the Irish Parliament._ By the Right Hon.\nJames Whiteside, C.J.\n\n[35] Gilbert's _Viceroys of Ireland_.\n\n[36] _State Papers, temp. Henry VIII._\n\n[37] Ware's _Life of Browne_.\n\n[38] _State Papers_, vol. iii. p. 108.\n\n[39] Morrin's _Cal._ vol. i. p. 55.\n\n[40] John O'Hagan, the present Lord High Chancellor of Ireland.\n\n\n\n\nGOTTFRIED VON STRASSBURG'S GREAT HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.\n\n\nThe period of the German Minnesinger, dating from about the middle\nof the thirteenth to the middle of the fourteenth century, witnessed\nprobably the intensest and sincerest devotion to the worship of the\nVirgin Mary in the whole history of the Catholic Church. Intense\nand sincere pre-eminently, because so expressed in the vast number\nof paintings and poems in her glorification whereof we have record.\nThat whole period, indeed, was one of fervent religious feeling,\nstimulated by the Crusades, and naturally choosing the Virgin for\nthe chief object of worship, as the whole knightly spirit of that\nage was one of devotion to woman. The pure love--for Minne is _pure_\nlove--of woman has never, in the history of literature, been so\nexclusively made the topic of poetry as it was during that century of\nthe Minnesinger; it is the absorbing theme of the almost two hundred\npoets of that time, of whom we have poems handed down to us, and its\nhighest expression was attained in those poems that were addressed to\nthe woman of all women, Mary, the mother of Jesus.\n\nThe German language in the thirteenth century had attained a\ndevelopment which fitted it pre-eminently for lyric poetry in all its\nbranches. What it has since gained in other respects it has lost in\nsweet music of sound. Furthermore, the true laws of rhythm, metre,\nand verse for modern languages, as distinguished from the rules that\ngoverned classic poetry, had been discovered and fixed; rules and\nlaws the knowledge whereof subsequently was lost, and which it gave\nGoethe so much trouble, as he tells us in his autobiography, to find\nagain. The purity of rhyme has never since in German poetry attained\nthe same degree of perfection, not even under the skilful hand of\nRueckert and Platen, which the Minnesinger gave to it; and thus\naltogether those matters, which constitute the mechanism of poetry,\nwere in fullest bloom.\n\nNow this mechanism and the wonderful language which it operated\nupon being in the possession and under the full control of such men\nas were the poets of that day, the result could be only poems of\nperfect form, and yet at the same time na\u00efve, earnest, intense, and\nenthusiastic in their character. For those poets were not--like those\nof our modern poets who have completest control of the mechanism of\npoetry, as Tennyson, Swinburne, etc.--poets of a cold, reflective\nbent of mind, but they were simple knights, with great enthusiasm in\nthe cause of the Crusades and of ladies; at the same time gifted with\na wondrous power of versification. A considerable number of them,\nsome of the best, as Wolfram von Eschenbach, Ulrich von Lichtenstein,\netc., could not even write and read, and had to dictate their poems\nto their Singerlein, or sing it to him--for these poets invented a\nmelody for each of their poems--which Singerlein again transmitted\nit in the same manner until, in the course of time, these unwritten\nMinnelieder were, as much as possible, gathered together by the\nnoble knight, Ruediger von Manasse, his son, and the Minnesinger,\nJohann Hadlaub, put into manuscript, and thus happily preserved for\nfuture generations.\n\nThe songs that these Minnesingers sang are of a threefold character:\neither in praise of the ladies, usually coupled with references to\nthe seasons of the year; or of a didactic character; or, finally, in\npraise of the Virgin.\n\nTheir form is only twofold: either they are lays or songs proper.\nThe song or Minnelied proper has invariably a triplicity of form in\neach stanza, that is, each stanza has three parts, whereof the first\ntwo correspond with each other exactly, whereas the third has an\nindependent, though of course rhythmically connected, flow of its\nown. The lay, on the contrary, is of irregular construction, and\npermits the widest rhythmical liberties.\n\nOf the many Minnelieder addressed to the Virgin we have presented to\nus examples of both kinds, lays and songs. Chief among them are a lay\nby Walther von der Vogelweide, and the _Great Hymn_ by Gottfried von\nStrassburg.\n\nThe latter is probably the finest of all the Minnelieder--worldly\nand sacred--of that period. Ranking next to these two there is,\nhowever, another poem to the Virgin, not to be classified strictly\nunder the general title of Minnelieder, but still the production of\na famous Minnesinger, and withal a poem of wondrous beauty, which\nfor two centuries kept its hold upon the people. This is Konrad von\nWuerzburg's _Golden Smithy_--a poem that is written in the metre\nof the narrative poem of that age, namely, in lines wherein every\nline ending in a masculine rhyme has four accentuations and every\nline ending in a female rhyme has three accentuations, the syllables\nnot being counted--a metre that Coleridge has adopted in his poem\n_Christabel_.\n\nIn this _Golden Smithy_ the poet represents himself as a goldsmith,\nworking all manner of precious stones and gold into a glorious\nornament for the Queen of Heaven, by gathering into his poem all\npossible images and similes from the world of nature, from sacred\nand profane history and fable, and from all the virtues and graces\nof mankind. It is a poem of wonderful splendor, and has a great\nsmoothness of diction. \"If,\" says the poet in the opening of the\npoem, \"in the depth of the smithy of my heart I could melt a poem\nout of gold and could enamel the gold with the glowing ruby of pure\ndevotion, I would forge a transparent, shining, and sparkling praise\nof thy worth, thou glorious empress of heaven. Yet, though my speech\nshould fly upward like a noble eagle, the wings of my words could\nnot carry me beyond thy praise; marble and adamant shall be sooner\npenetrated by a straw, and the diamond by molten lead, than I attain\nthe height of the praise that belongs to thee. Not until all the\nstars have been counted and the dust of the sun and the sand of the\nsea and the leaves of the trees, can thy praise be properly sung.\"\n\nBut even this poem is far surpassed in beauty every way by Gottfried\nvon Strassburg's _Great Hymn_. Indeed, Konrad himself modestly\nconfesses this in his _Golden Smithy_, when he regrets that he does\nnot \"sit upon the green clover bedewed with sweet speech, on which\nsat worthily Gottfried von Strassburg, who, as a most artistic smith,\nworked a golden poem, and praised and glorified the Holy Virgin in\nmuch better strain.\"\n\nThere is, indeed, a wondrous beauty in this hymn of Gottfried\nvon Strassburg, a beauty much akin to that of his own Strassburg\nCathedral, which was begun about the same time.\n\n\"It is,\" says Van der Hagen, \"the very glorification of love (Minne)\nand of Minnesong; it is the heavenly bridal song, the mysterious\nSolomon's Song, which mirrors its miraculous object in a stream\nof deep and lovely images, linking them all together into an\nimperishable wreath; yet even here in its profundity and significance\nof an artistic and numerously-rhymed construction; always clear as\ncrystal, smooth and graceful.\"\n\nThe poem separates into three parts: in the first whereof the poet\nexhorts all those who desire to listen to his song of God's great\nlove to endeavor to gain it by unremitting exertion; and furthermore\nto pray for him, the poet, who has so little striven to attain it\nfor himself. In the second part, the poet calls upon the heavens and\nChrist to bend down and listen to his truthful lays in praise of\nChrist's sweet mother. Then in the third part begins the praise of\nthe Virgin, followed by that of her Son, and the poem reaches its\nsupreme fervor when it breaks out finally in praise of God himself.\nThence it gradually lowers its tone, and finally expires in a sigh.\n\nI suppose it is impossible to give an adequate idea by translation of\nthe melodious sound of words, the perfect rhythm, and the artistic\ngradation of effect which this poem has parts of the poem, and so\nselected as to give a general idea of both the manner and the matter\nof the poem. The selection opens with the first and ends with the\nlast verses of the whole poem; but the whole itself being composed of\nninety-four stanzas, it was necessary to take from in the original.\nI can say only that I have done my best in the following stanzas,\nselected from the various the intermediate ones only specimens.\nThe imagery may often seem far-fetched, but it must be remembered\nthat the men of that period likened God and the God-begotten unto\neverything on earth and in heaven, for the simple reason that they\ndeemed it irreverent and impossible to characterize them by any\nsingle predicate or word.\n\nOf the poet himself we know very little. His name indicates him to\nhave been a citizen of Strassburg. His title Meister (master) shows\nthat his station in life was that of a citizen and not of a noble\nor knight, their title being Herr. He was undoubtedly the foremost\npoet of his age, and--together with Wolfram von Eschenbach--was then\nand is still so considered. His greatest work is the narrative poem,\n_Tristan und Isolde_; but that he left unfinished. We have no other\nwork of his handed down to us except three or four small Minnesongs.\n\n\nHYMN TO THE VIRGIN.\n\n      Ye, who your life would glorify\n      And float in bliss with God on high,\n      There to dwell nigh\n      His peace and love's salvation;\n      Who fain would learn how to enroll\n      All evils under your control,\n      And rid your soul\n      Of many a sore temptation:\n      Give heed unto this song of love\n      And follow its sweet story;\n      Then will its passing sweetness prove\n      Unto your hearts a peaceful dove,\n        And upward move\n      Your souls to realms of glory.\n\n      Ye, who would hear what you have ne'er\n      Heard spoken, now incline your ear\n      And listen here\n      To what my tongue unfoldeth.\n      Yea, list to the sweet praise and worth\n      Of her who to God's child gave birth;\n      Wherefore on earth\n      God as in heaven her holdeth.\n      E'en as the air when fresh bedewed\n      Bears fruitful growth, so to man\n      She bears an ever-fruitful mood:\n      Never so chaste and sweet heart's blood,\n        So true and good,\n      Was born by mortal woman.\n\n      I speak of thee in my best strain:\n      No mother e'er such child may gain,\n      Or child attain\n      So pure a mother ever.\n      He chose what his own nature was;\n      His glorious Godhead chose as case\n      The purest vase\n      Of flesh and bone's endeavor\n      That woman ever to her heart\n      'Tween earth and heaven gave pressure.\n      In thee lay hidden every part,\n      That ever did from virtue start;\n        Of bliss thou art\n      The sweetest, chosen treasure.\n\n      Thou gem, thou gold, thou diamond-glow,\n      Thou creamy milk, white ivory, oh!\n      Thou honey-flow\n      In heart and mouth dissolving;\n      Of fruitful virtue a noble grove,\n      The lovely bride of God above--\n      Thou sweet, sweet love,\n      Thou hour with bliss revolving!\n      Of chastity thou whitest snow,\n      A grape of chaste and sure love,\n      A clover-field of true love's glow,\n      Of grace a bottomless ocean's flow:\n        Yea more, I trow:\n      A turtle-dove of pure love.\n\n      God thee hath clothed with raiments seven,\n      On thy pure body, brought from heaven,\n      Hath put them even\n      When thou wast first created.\n      The first dress Chastity is named,\n      The second is as Virtue famed,\n      The third is claimed\n      And as sweet Courtesy rated.\n      The fourth dress is Humility,\n      The fifth is Mercy's beauty,\n      The sixth one, Faith, clings close to thee,\n      The seventh, humble Modesty,\n        Keepeth thee free\n      To follow simple duty.\n\n      To worship, Lady, thee doth teach\n      Pray'r to drenched courage and numbed speech,\n      Yea, and fires each\n      Cold heart with heavenly rapture.\n      To worship thee, O Lady! can\n      Teach many an erring, sinful man,\n      How from sin's ban\n      His soul he still may capture.\n      To worship thee is e'en a branch\n      On which the soul's life bloometh;\n      To worship thee makes bold and stanch\n      The weakest soul on sin's hard bench;\n        God it doth wrench\n      From hell and in heaven roometh.\n\n      Then let both men and women proclaim,\n      And what of mother's womb e'er came,\n      Both wild and tame,\n      The grace of thy devotion.\n      Then praise thee now what living lives,\n      Whatever heaven's dew receives,\n      Runs, floats, or cleaves\n      Through forest or through ocean.\n      Then praise thee now the fair star-shine,\n      The sun and the moon gold-glowing,\n      Then praise thee the four elements thine;\n      Yea, blessedness around thee twine,\n        Thou cheering wine,\n      Thou stream with grace o'erflowing.\n\n      Rejoice, then, Lady of the skies,\n      Rejoice, thou God-love's paradise,\n      Rejoice, thou prize\n      Of sweetest roses growing!\n      Rejoice, thou blessed maiden, then,\n      Rejoice, that every race and clan,\n      Woman and man,\n      Pray to thy love o'erflowing.\n      Rejoice, that thou with God dost show\n      So many things in common:\n      His yea thy yea, his no thy no;\n      Endless ye mingle in one flow;\n        Small and great, lo!\n      He shares with thee, sweet woman.\n\n      Now have I praised the mother thine,\n      O sweet, fair Christ and Lord of mine!\n      That honor's shrine\n      Wherein thou wast created.\n      And loud I'll now praise thee, O Lord!\n      Yea, did I not, 'twould check my word;\n      Thy praise has soared,\n      And with all things been mated.\n      Seven hours each day thy praise shall now\n      By me in pray'r be chanted;\n      This well belongs to thee, I trow,\n      For with all virtues thou dost glow;\n        From all grief thou\n      Relief to us hast granted.\n\n      Thou of so many pure hearts the hold,\n      So many a pure maid's sweetheart bold,\n      All thee enfold\n      With love bright, loud, and yearning.\n      Thou art caressed by many a mood,\n      Caressed by many a heart's warm blood;\n      Thou art so good,\n      So truthful and love-burning.\n      Caressed by all the stars that soar,\n      By moon and sun, thou blessing!\n      Caressed by the great elements four;\n      Oh! ne'er caressed so was afore,\n        Nor will be more,\n      Sweetheart by love's caressing!\n\n      Yea, thou art named the God of grace,\n      Without whose special power, no phase\n      Of life in space\n      Had ever gained existence.\n      What runneth, climbeth, sneaketh, or striveth,\n      What crawleth, twineth, flieth, or diveth,\n      Yea, all that thriveth\n      In earth and heaven's subsistence:\n      Of all, the life to thee is known,\n      Thou art their food and banner,\n      The lives of all are held alone\n      By thee, O Lord! and on thy throne;\n        Thus is well known\n      Thy grace in every manner.\n\n      God of thee speaking, God of thee saying,\n      Teareth the heart its passions flaying,\n      And stay waylaying\n      The ever-watchful devil.\n      God of thee speaking, God of thee saying,\n      Much strength and comfort keeps displaying;\n      And hearts thus staying,\n      Are saved from every evil.\n      God of thee speaking, God of thee saying,\n      Is pleasure beyond all pleasure.\n      It moves our hearts, thy grace surveying,\n      To keep with love thy love repaying;\n        O'er all things swaying\n      Thus shines thy love's great treasure.\n\n      God of thee speaking repentance raises\n      When they, who chant thy wondrous praises,\n      Use lying phrases:\n      So purely thy word gloweth.\n      It suffers less a lying mood\n      Than suffers waves the ocean's flood,\n      So pure and good\n      Its changeless current floweth.\n      God of thee speaking doth attest\n      Pure heart and chaste endeavor,\n      It driveth the devil from our breast.\n      Oh! well I know its soothing rest,\n        It is the zest\n      Of thy vast mercy's flavor.\n\n      Ah virtue pure, ah purest vase!\n      Ah of chaste eyes thou mirror-glass!\n      Ah diamond-case,\n      With fruitful virtues glowing!\n      Ah festive day to pleasure lent!\n      Ah rapture without discontent!\n      Ah sweet musk-scent!\n      Ah flower gayly blooming!\n      Ah heavenly kingdom where thou art!\n      On earth, in hell, or heaven!\n      Ah cunning o'er all cunning's art!\n      Ah thou, that knoweth every part!\n        Ah sweet Christ's heart!\n      Ah sweetness without leaven!\n\n      Ah virtue there, ah virtue here!\n      Ah virtue on many a dark and drear\n      Path, far and near!\n      Ah virtue e'er befriending!\n      Ah thou self-conscious purity!\n      Ah goodness, those that cling to thee\n      So many be\n      Their number has no ending.\n      Ah father, mother thou, and son!\n      Ah brother both and sister!\n      Ah strong of faith as Jacob's son!\n      Ah king of earth's and heaven's throne!\n        Ah thou alone\n      Our friend to-day as yester!\n\n\n\n\nA WORD TO THE _INDEPENDENT_.\n\n\n\"A WORD TO FATHER HECKER.\n\n    \"We address you, Reverend Dr. Hecker, in this public\n    way because we recognize in you not only the ablest\n    defender of the Roman Catholic Church in the United\n    States, but also the most progressive and enlightened\n    leader of thought in that church. In the words we have\n    to speak, we wish to speak not to Dr. Hecker, the\n    antagonist of Protestantism, but to Father Hecker, a\n    leader of Catholicism. We write in no polemical spirit.\n    We have many things against the Church of Rome, and\n    have spoken severely of Catholicism as you have of\n    Protestantism. But we have also much veneration for\n    many things in that church, and a very great admiration\n    for some passages in its history. Enthusiastic as you\n    are, sir, you cannot revere more sincerely than we\n    the self-sacrificing benevolence of St. Francis of\n    Assisi, the zeal of St. Francis Xavier, the piety of\n    F\u00e9nelon and of Lacordaire, the eloquence of Bossuet and\n    Massillon, or the courage of Pascal and Hyacinthe.\n\n    \"We come to you for help. In all our great cities\n    there are sections inhabited almost wholly by Roman\n    Catholic people. It is a fact, as well known to you\n    as it is to us, that Catholic sections of the cities\n    abound in destitution, in ignorance, in vice, in crime.\n    Children are here trained by all their surroundings\n    to a life of wickedness. In many homes they learn\n    profanity from the lips of their mothers, and they are\n    familiar with drunkenness from their cradle, if they\n    are so fortunate as to have one left not pawned to buy\n    the means of drunkenness. We know how many honest and\n    hard-working Catholics there are in these sections, and\n    we know how many villanous non-Catholics there are. But\n    you know as well as any one knows that the Catholic\n    population furnishes vastly more than its proportion\n    of paupers and criminals. The reform schools, the\n    prisons, the alms-houses, are nearly full of Catholics.\n    In the Catholic sections of the cities there are\n    drinking-saloons, dog-pits, and brothels in abundance.\n    The men who keep these places are, in undue proportion,\n    Catholics. They receive extreme unction on their\n    death-beds, and are buried in consecrated cemeteries\n    with the rites of the church. We say these things\n    not to wound your Catholic pride, nor to injure that\n    church, but to ask one question: Cannot the Catholic\n    Church herself do something to mitigate these evils?\n\n    \"Protestants plant missions in some of these Catholic\n    quarters. We are not sure that these missions are\n    always conducted as they should be. Perhaps there may\n    be too much of a spirit of proselytism in some of them;\n    but, at any rate, there is a sincere desire to make men\n    better. Drunkards have been reformed by these missions.\n    Women of evil life have been reclaimed. Children have\n    been taken from vile homes and taught the ways of\n    virtue. Sunday-schools and reading-rooms have been\n    established, and have contributed to the culture and\n    elevation of adults and children.\n\n    \"But you know, sir, how strong is the Catholic\n    prejudice against Protestants. Broken windows,\n    and sometimes broken heads, have testified to the\n    appreciation the Catholic population has of such\n    efforts on the part of Protestants. There are whole\n    districts from which Protestants are practically\n    excluded. For the worse the lives of these people are,\n    the more combatively devoted are they to the Catholic\n    Church. Of course, we believe that Protestantism is\n    better than Roman Catholicism; but since the reaching\n    of these people with Protestant missions is not\n    possible, we come to you and ask you whether you, who\n    have done so much for the enlightenment of the Catholic\n    Church through its literature, will not lift up your\n    powerful voice to plead with the church to use her\n    almost unlimited influence for the regeneration of her\n    people.\n\n    \"We are never tired of praising Catholic charities.\n    But Catholic charities, like many Protestant ones, are\n    only half-charities. Of what avail is it that you build\n    a House of the Good Shepherd for abandoned women, if\n    you do not also take means to mitigate the ignorance\n    and the wickedness of the children who are quickly to\n    supply the places of those whom you have recovered?\n\n    \"We point you to no Protestant example. We know of\n    none so good as that of the illustrious St. Charles\n    Borromeo. If the great Cathedral of Milan were the\n    rudest chapel in Europe, it would yet be one of the\n    most glorious of temples. We need not point the\n    application of his example to the present subject. If\n    the Catholic Church in America had one ecclesiastic of\n    ability who possessed half the zeal of the illustrious\n    successor of St. Ambrose, this stain upon American\n    Catholicism might soon be wiped away. We need not\n    remind one so learned in church history as yourself\n    of his toilsome labor in the cause of education,\n    and of his endeavors, which ceased only with his\n    life, to remove ignorance and vice from his diocese.\n    In suggesting to you, whose parish has already so\n    admirable a Sunday-school, the good that might be\n    accomplished by a thoroughly organized Sunday-school\n    system, we do not need to suggest that in Sunday-school\n    work Catholics are not imitators of Protestants. We are\n    proud to trace the history of Sunday-schools to St.\n    Charles Borromeo.\n\n    \"By helping to improve the moral, intellectual, and\n    religious character of the lower class of American\n    Catholics, you can do more than by all your eloquent\n    arguments to make Protestants think well of the mother\n    church. Americans are very practical, and a good\n    chapter of present church history enacted before their\n    eyes will have more weight with them than all the old\n    church history your learning can dig from the folios of\n    eighteen centuries.\"\n\nWe depart from our usual course to reprint the above rather, long\narticle, which appeared some time ago in the _Independent_, one of\nthe leading Protestant papers of the country, not because of its\nintrinsic merits or special untruthfulness, nor yet for its assumed\nknowledge of the views and duties of the reverend gentleman to whom\nit is so pointedly addressed, but because we consider this a fitting\ntime and place to answer the invidious attacks which, under one guise\nor another, are so constantly being made on the church in America\nby those who are neither able to meet openly our arguments, nor to\narrest covertly the astonishing progress which our holy religion\nis happily making in every part of this republic. These assaults\nsometimes take the form of wholesale and mendacious assertion and\npassionate appeal to blind prejudice and unreason; while sometimes,\nlike the one before us, they assume the thin disguise of personal\ncourtesy and general charity to all men. The former are perhaps the\nmore manly, the latter have the merit of permitting us, without loss\nof self-respect, to reply to them. The object in either case is the\nsame: a vain endeavor to stem the tide of Catholicity which, in a\nsuccession of great waves, as it were, is fast spreading over the\nland, and an attempt to make our faith an object of aversion to those\nof our countrymen not yet in the church, by associating it with all\nthat is impoverished, illiterate, and immoral.\n\nIt is true, as the writer says, that the Americans are a practical\npeople; but we are not by any means a very reflective people, and are\nvery apt to judge hastily of others without sufficiently considering\nthe various causes which underlie the surface of society, or the\neffects which may be produced on a people less fortunate than\nourselves by ages of misrule and persecution. Knowing this national\nfailing very well, the writer in the _Independent_ adroitly seeks\nto hold the Catholic Church responsible for the faults and vices\nof a certain class of nominal Catholics in our midst, when he is\nfully aware that these very vices, so far from being the growth of\nCatholic teaching, are not only in absolute contradiction to it, but\nare the direct and logical results of an elaborate system of penal\nlegislation, designed to produce the very degradation of which he\ncomplains, and persistently carried out to its furthest limit by the\nleading Protestant power of Europe.\n\nTake New York, for instance. Here the church is practically the\ngrowth of but half a century. There are some among us whose\nCatholic ancestors came to this country in the last or even in the\nseventeenth century; others who have sought refuge from the doubts\nand uncertainties of Protestantism in the peaceful bosom of mother\nchurch; but by far the greater number are immigrants of this century,\nand their children, who, glad to flee from famine and persecution\nwith nothing but their lives and faith, have sought refuge on our\nshores from the tyranny of a hostile government, which the world\nhas long recognized as both insincere, oppressive, and illiberal,\nbut which, by virtue of its assumed leadership in the Protestant\nrevolt called the Reformation, wantonly and tenaciously continued\nto persecute its subjects who dared to profess their devotion to\nthe faith of their fathers. Any one, be he lawyer or laymen, who\nreads the penal acts of the parliaments of England, Scotland, and\nIreland from the reign of Henry VIII. downward, must be satisfied\nthat a more complete network of laws for the purpose of beggaring,\ndegrading, and corrupting human nature has never been devised. Some\nof them, in fact, are almost preternatural in their ingenuity; and\nthe wonder is how any class of people coming under their operation\ncould, for any length of time, retain even the semblance of\ncivilization. Everything that it was possible to take by legislation\nfrom the Catholics of Great Britain and Ireland was taken, every\nadvantage arising from the possession of land or the acquisition\nof commercial wealth was denied them, and the avenues to honor and\ndistinction were, and are partially so to this day, closed against\nthem, generation after generation. That many of the descendants of\nthese persecuted people who have come among us are uneducated is\ntrue, that they are generally poor is a fact patent to every one; but\nit ill becomes the _Independent_ to taunt them with their ignorance\nand their poverty, knowing, as it does, that it was Protestantism,\nof which it is the expounder and the eulogist, that has robbed them\nof their birthright, and striven, with some success, it seems, to\nplunge their souls in darkness. Is it fair or generous to hold these\npeople up to public contumely because of the scars they have received\nin their unequalled struggle for the freedom of conscience and\nnationality; is it just or American to try to steal from those who\nseek an asylum on our soil that for which they have imperilled and\nlost all else--their faith, which is to them dearer than life itself?\nOr is it more in keeping with all our ideas of true manhood and\nrepublican liberty that while we extend one arm to shield the victim\nof oppression, the other should be stretched forth in reprobation of\nhis plunderer and persecutor? If they have vices--and what people\nhave not?--let a share of the blame at least be laid at the doors of\nthose who designedly and continually debarred them from all means\nof enlightenment and every incentive to virtue, instead of being\nattributed to the influence of the church.\n\nAnd yet, in view of the gloomy history of these people--a chapter\nin the annals of England which the best of her Protestant statesmen\nare endeavoring to efface from the popular memory--the writer in\nthe _Independent_ appears to be surprised at what he calls Catholic\nprejudice against Protestant missions. No man, we are safe in saying,\nhas less prejudice against his fellow-man than the American Catholic,\nin all the usual intercourse of life; but when a person under the\ngarb of charity invades the sanctity of his home simply to abuse\nhis religion, or waylays his children in the streets and inveigles\nthem into mission-houses and Sunday-schools by the proffer of a loaf\nor a jacket, for the purpose of telling them that their fathers'\nfaith is rank idolatry, is it not too much to expect that he will\nremain unmoved and uncomplaining? The writer should recollect that\nthe class of so-called missionaries who infest the quarters of our\npoorer fellow-Catholics are not new to those people. They have seen\ntheir counterparts long ago in Bantry and Connemara, in the fertile\nvalleys of Munster and on the bleak hills of Connaught, in the dark\ndays of the great famine, when the tract distributer followed hard on\nthe heels of the tithe-proctor and the bailiff, tendering a meal or a\nshilling as the price of apostasy. If heads are occasionally broken,\nthey are not the heads of those who attend to their own affairs and\nlet their neighbors attend to theirs, but of some intermeddling\ntract-scatterer, whose salary depends upon the number of copies\nhe can force into the hands of Catholics without regard to their\nwishes or feelings. The provocation emanates from them, and they\nmust take the consequences. If the law permits us to inflict summary\nchastisement on the burglar who enters our house to take our goods,\nshall we have no remedy against him who prowls about our doors to\nsteal our children and abuse our faith?\n\nIf Protestant missions were properly conducted, they would have\nnone of these difficulties to contend with. But are they properly\nconducted? The writer in the _Independent_ seems to have some doubts\non this point. We have none. Whoever will take the trouble to attend\nthe Bible-classes, prayer-meetings, day-schools, and Sunday-schools\nof the Howard Mission and its adjuncts, will be satisfied that they\nare nothing but ingeniously contrived machines for the purpose of\nproselytizing Catholic children. Abuse of Catholicity of the most\nunqualified and vulgar kind forms the staple of the instructions\nthere from beginning to end. Even the material relief is diverted\nto this purpose. The poor half-starved lad, as he eats his food,\nswallows it down with a draught of no-popery cant, and the ragged\nlittle girl, as she dons some cast-off garment, has her young mind\npolluted by aspersions on the name of her whom Holy Writ declared\nshould be called blessed by all nations. We have before us a\nperiodical issued from the Howard Mission, under the superintendence\nof a Rev. W. C. Van Meter, which is as full of that canting,\nsnivelling, anti-Catholic spirit as ever characterized the days of\nGod-save-Barebones or of John Wesley's unlettered disciples. As a\nspecimen of the veracity of this modern apostle to the Fourth Ward,\nand for the benefit of the _Independent_, which has some doubts as to\nwhether Protestant missions are properly conducted, we extract the\nfollowing prominent article from its pages:\n\n    \"PROTESTANTISM _vs._ ROMANISM.--In the Protestant\n    countries of Great Britain and Prussia, where 20 can\n    read and write, there are but 13 in the Roman Catholic\n    countries of France and Austria. In European countries,\n    1 in every 10 are in schools in the Protestant\n    countries, and but 1 in 124 in the Roman Catholic. In\n    six leading Protestant countries in Europe, 1 newspaper\n    or magazine is published to every 315 inhabitants;\n    while in six Roman Catholic there is but 1 to every\n    2,715. The value of what is produced a year by industry\n    in Spain is $6 to each inhabitant; in France, $7\u00bd;\n    Prussia, $8; and in Great Britain, $31. There are about\n    a third more paupers in the Roman Catholic countries of\n    Europe than in the Protestant, owing mainly to their\n    numerous holidays and prevailing ignorance, idleness,\n    and vice. Three times as many crimes are committed in\n    Ireland as in Great Britain, though the population is\n    but a third. There are six times as many homicides,\n    four times as many assassinations, and from three to\n    four times as many thefts in Ireland as in Scotland.\n    In Catholic Austria, there are four times as many\n    crimes committed as in the adjoining Protestant kingdom\n    of Prussia.\"[41]\n\nNow, we ask, is the man or men who penned and circulated this\natrocious calumny likely to command the respect of any class of\nCatholics, learned or ignorant? He or they knew, or ought to have\nknown, that it contains several deliberate falsehoods. Take, for\nexample, the portion of the extract relating to Great Britain and\nIreland. By referring to the report of \"Her Majesty's Inspector of\nSchools, August 31, 1868,\" we find that in England and Wales the\naverage attendance at all the schools in the kingdom was 1,050,120,\nin Scotland 191,860, and in Ireland, at the model schools alone,\n354,853, or nearly twice as many as in Scotland, and, in proportion\nto the population, one-seventh more than in England. From the\nofficial report of the statistics of crime in the same year (the\nlatest published reports that have reached us), there were convicted\nof crime in England 15,003, in Scotland 2,490, and in Ireland 2,394.\nOf those sentenced in England, 21 were condemned to death, 18 to\npenal servitude for life, and 1,921 for a term of years. In Scotland,\none was condemned to death, and 243 to penal servitude, while in\nIreland none were condemned to death, and but 238 to penal servitude.\nWe find also that in England alone 118,390 persons are reported as\nbelonging to the criminal classes known to the authorities, and but\n23,041 in Ireland; and while the former country has 20,000 houses of\nbad character, the latter has 5,876. The number of paupers in each\nof the three countries shows even a greater disparity. England in\n1868 had, exclusive of vagrants, 1,039,549, or one in every twenty of\nthe population; Scotland, 158,372, or one in every 19; and Ireland,\n74,254, or one in every 80![42]\n\nIf it were not foreign to our present purpose, we could prove that\nthe managers of the Protestant missions are equally untruthful in\ntheir invidious comparisons instituted between other countries,[43]\nbut we have shown enough to convince any impartial person that they\nare not fit to be entrusted with the care of youth of any class, much\nless of Catholic children. If the supporters of the _Independent_\nare sincere in their desire to benefit the destitute, the needy, and\nthe vicious, let them first remove all suspicion of proselytism from\ntheir charities by appointing proper persons to administer them.\nIf they have conscientious scruples against co-operating with the\nvarious Catholic charitable societies, who know the poor and are\ntrusted by them, there are other ways of dispensing their bounty\njudiciously than by tampering with the poor people's faith, and\ntheir charity will then become a blessing to the giver as well as\nto the receiver. Then let them, above all things, advocate a fair\nand impartial distribution of the public school funds. It is well\nknown that the Catholics as a body are far from being rich, and that\nwhile they are struggling hard to sustain their own schools, they\nare heavily taxed for the support of those to which they cannot\nconsistently send their children, and from which, in many instances,\nthe offspring of the rich alone receive any benefit. Can we not\nin this free democracy have laws regulating education at least as\nequitable as those of Austria and Prussia--countries which we\nare pleased to call despotic? Help us to the means to educate our\nchildren in our own way, as we have a right to do, and you will see\nhow the stigma of ignorance and its consequences will be removed from\nthe fair forehead of this great metropolis. We ask not charity, we\nsimply want our fair share of that public money which is contributed\nby Catholic and Protestant alike for educational purposes, and the\nliberty to apply it with as much freedom from state interference as\nis enjoyed in the monarchies of Europe.\n\nThe writer in the _Independent_ assumes, with a coolness approaching\nimpertinence, that the clergyman whom he addresses knows that the\nCatholic population \"furnishes more, vastly more, than its proportion\nof paupers and criminals.\" He knows no such thing, nor does any\nright-minded man in the community know it. That there are many and\ngrave crimes committed by nominal Catholics is, alas! too true,\nbut that many such are perpetrated, to any appreciable extent, by\nthe hundreds of thousands of practical Catholics in this city, no\nsane man believes. Poor and ignorant, if you will, without capital,\nbusiness training, or mechanical skill, many thousands of our\nimmigrants are from necessity obliged to make their homes in the\npurlieus of our great cities. Disappointed in their too sanguine\nexpectation of fortune in the New World, some seek solace in\nintoxication, and in that condition commit acts of lawlessness which\ntheir better nature abhors. But much as the commission of crime in\nany shape is to be regretted and reprehended, it must be admitted\nthat most of the offences are comparatively trivial in their nature\nand consequences, and few, even of the darkest, are the result of\npremeditated villany. In searching over the criminal records of\nour state and country, we seldom find a contrived infraction of the\nlaw by the class to which the writer so ungraciously alludes. A\ngigantic swindle, a scientific burglary, a nicely planned larceny,\nan adroit forgery, a diabolical seduction, or a deliberate and\nlong-contemplated murder by poison or the knife, is seldom committed\nby that class, but by those who were reared in as much hostility\nto Catholicity as the writer of the _Independent_ himself. This\nhigher grade of crime, this \"bad pre-eminence,\" we might with some\nshow of justice ascribe to the effects of the laxity of Protestant\nmorals, but we have no desire to do so here; and with even much\nmore truthfulness might we charge the sects who teach that marriage\nis merely a civil contract with the responsibility of those other\nvices which, striking at the very foundations of society and the\nsanctity of the family, are more lasting in their consequences and\nmore demoralizing in their immediate effects, than all the others\nput together. The columns of this same virtuous _Independent_ have\nobtained an unenviable notoriety by spreading the most shameful and\ncorrupting doctrines on this vital subject. But we have no wish to\nretort: the records of our divorce courts will prove that this class\nof criminals is made up almost exclusively of non-Catholics.\n\nThe writer in the _Independent_, throughout his appeal, assumes a\ntone of superior knowledge and a lofty contempt for details that\nmight mislead some into the belief that the Catholic body of this\ncity was an inert and helpless mass. He asks, \"Will you not lift\nup your powerful voice to plead with the church to use her almost\nunlimited influence for the regeneration of her people?\" Does the\nwriter know, or has he attempted to ascertain, all that the church\nhas done and is doing in this city, as in every other, for the\n\"regeneration of her people\"? If he does not, by what right does\nhe assume that the voice of any one man or any number of men is\nrequired to _plead_ with the church to do her duty? If he be ignorant\nof his subject, then by what authority does he take upon himself\nthe office of mediator between the church and the people? If he be\nnot in ignorance, then his carefully worded sentences and smoothly\nturned compliments merely cover, without concealing, a tissue of base\ninsinuations, beside which downright falsehood were rank flattery.\n\nLet him look at what the church has done in New York in the past\ngeneration! Forty churches and chapels have been built, with a\ncapacity, it is said, to seat fifty-six thousand persons, but really\nequal to the accommodation of five times that number, as in every\nchurch the divine service is offered up at least three times each\nSunday, and all are attended beyond the greatest capacity of the\nbuilding. To many of our churches is attached a free day-school for\nboys and girls, and invariably a Sunday-school--thronged weekly by\nthe youth of both sexes, to listen to the instruction and counsel\nof competent teachers. Every parish has its St. Vincent de Paul\nSociety, counting hundreds and in some cases thousands of members,\nwhose aim it is to visit the sick, the afflicted, and the needy; and\nits temperance society, the strength of which may be judged by the\nlong line of stalworth men we see parading our streets on festal\noccasions. Colleges, schools, and convents there are in great numbers\nfor the teaching of the higher branches of education. Hospitals\nfor the sick and afflicted, asylums for the blind, the orphan, the\nfoundling, and the repentant sinner, a reformatory for erring youth,\nand a shelter for old age. Almost every conceivable want of weak\nhumanity has its appropriate place of supply among our charitable\ninstitutions.\n\nAll this grand system of charities is, however, lost on the writer in\nthe _Independent_. His special attention is directed to the \"dense\nCatholic sections.\" Well, we will take the Fourth Ward, which is\nblessed with the Howard Mission and the beneficent supervision of\nMr. Van Meter. St. James's Church is situated in this ward, and its\nparish embraces all the Protestant missions so-called, and most of\ntheir offshoots. Upon personal inquiry, we find that there is erected\nin this parish a magnificent and spacious school-house, at a cost\nof _one hundred and twenty thousand_ dollars, attended daily during\nweek-days by upwards of _fourteen hundred_ boys and girls, taught by\ntwenty-two teachers of both sexes. The tuition is entirely free, the\nexpenses amounting to about twelve thousand dollars annually, being\nsustained by the voluntary contributions of the parishioners. The\nSunday-schools of this church are attended by _twenty-five hundred_\nchildren, about one-half of whom, being employed during the week,\nare unable to attend the day-schools. Then there is an industrial\nschool, attended by between one and two hundred poor children, mostly\nhalf-orphans, who are provided with dinner every day, and to whom\nare given two entire suits of new clothing every year, on July 4th\nand Christmas Day. In addition to these there is a branch of the St.\nVincent de Paul Society, numbering several hundred members, forty\nof whom are constantly on duty, visiting the sick, counselling the\nerring, helping the needy, and performing other works of charity.\nThis society alone expends annually at least five thousand dollars.\nBesides, there are two temperance societies, numbering nearly _nine\nhundred men_, who not only discourage intemperance by their example,\nbut seek by weekly meetings, lectures, and other popular attractions\nto win others to follow in their footsteps. Now, these are facts\neasily verified by any one who may wish to do so, and may be taken as\na fair specimen of the gigantic efforts which the church is making in\nevery parish in this city for the conservation of the morals and the\neducation of her people. St. James's Parish may be said to contain\nthe largest proportionate number of our poorer brethren, who, though\nheavily taxed as tenement holders and retail purchasers of all the\nnecessaries of life, contributing of course their quota to the public\nschool fund, can yet afford, out of their scanty and often precarious\nmeans, to educate and partly feed and clothe over _fifteen hundred\nchildren_. Can the _Independent_ show any similar effort on the part\nof any of the sects?\n\nThe writer in the _Independent_ says, \"We come to you for help.\"\nWhat sort of help? If it is assistance to prop up the decaying\nProtestant missions which have so long been sources of discord and\nbad feeling among our Catholic fellow-citizens, profitable only to\ntheir employees, we respectfully decline: if he is in truth and all\nsincerity desirous to devote a part of his leisure time and means\nto improve the condition of his less fortunate fellow-beings in the\ndenser populated portions of the city, we cannot advise him to do\nbetter than to consult the pastor of St. James's or of any of the\nchurches in the lower wards, who will give him all the help required\nfor the proper disposal of both. And, in conclusion, let us suggest\nto him that no amount of politeness will justify the violation of the\ncommandment which says, \"Thou shalt not bear false witness against\nthy neighbor.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[41] _The Little Wanderer's Friend_, January, 1871.\n\n[42] _Thom's Directory of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and\nIreland_, for 1870, pp. 713-721.\n\n[43] See CATHOLIC WORLD for April, September, and October, 1869, and\nApril, 1870.\n\n\n\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe press of Paris and of the provinces was beginning to discuss the\nevents at Lourdes; and public attention far outside the region of the\nPyrenees was gradually being attracted to the Grotto of Massabielle.\n\nThe measures of the prefect were loudly applauded by the infidel\npapers and as vehemently condemned by the Catholic ones. The latter,\nwhile maintaining a due reserve on the subject of the reality of the\napparitions and miracles, held that a question of this nature should\nbe decided by the ecclesiastical authorities, and not summarily\nsettled according to the will of the prefect.\n\nThe innumerable cures which were taking place at the grotto, or even\nat distant places, continually drew an immense number of invalids and\npilgrims to Lourdes. The Latour de Trie analysis, and the mineral\nproperties claimed for the new spring by the official representative\nof science, added yet more to the reputation of the grotto, and made\nit attractive even to those who depended for their cure only on the\nunaided powers of nature. Also, the discussion, by exciting men's\nminds, added to the throng of the faithful there assembled another of\nthe curious. All the means adopted by the unbelievers turned directly\nagainst the end which they had proposed to themselves.\n\nBy the irresistible course of events, then--a course fatal in the\neyes of some, but providential in those of others--the crowd which\nthe authorities had been trying to disperse was continually assuming\nlarger and larger proportions. And it increased the more, because, as\nill luck would have it, the material obstacles which the frosts of\nwinter had produced had gradually disappeared. The month of May had\nreturned; and the beautiful spring weather seemed to invite pilgrims\nto come to the grotto by all the flowery roads which traverse the\nwoods, meadows, and vineyards in this region of lofty mountains,\ngreen hills, and shady valleys.\n\nThe provoked but powerless prefect watched the growth and spread\nof this peaceable and wonderful movement, which was bringing the\nChristian multitudes to kneel and drink at the foot of a desolate\nrock.\n\nThe measures already taken had, it is true, prevented the grotto from\nlooking like an oratory, but, substantially, the state of things\nremained the same. From all sides people were coming to the scene of\na miracle. Contrary to the hope of the free-thinkers, the fear of the\nfaithful, and the expectations of all, absolutely no disturbance or\nbreach of the peace occurred in this extraordinary concourse of men\nand women, old and young, believers and infidels, the curious and\nthe indifferent. An invisible hand seemed to protect these crowds\nfrom mutual collision as they daily thronged by thousands to the\nmiraculous fountain.\n\nThe magistracy, represented by M. Dutour, and the police, personified\nin M. Jacomet, looked at this strange phenomenon with astonishment.\nWas their irritation all the greater on his account? We cannot say;\nbut for some dispositions extremely fond of authority, the spectacle\nof a multitude so wonderfully orderly and peaceable, is certainly\nanomalous and revolutionary, if not even insulting. When order\npreserves itself, all those functionaries whose only business is\nto preserve it feel a vague uneasiness. Being accustomed to have a\nhand in everything in the name of the law, to regulate, to command,\nto punish, to pardon, to see everything and everybody depend on\ntheir person and office, they feel out of place in the presence of\na crowd which does not need their services, and which gives them no\npretext for interfering, showing their importance, and restraining\nits movements. An order which excludes them is the worst of all\ndisorders. If such a fatal example should be generally followed, the\n_procureurs imp\u00e9riaux_ would no longer have a sufficient reason for\ntheir existence, the commissaries of police would disappear, and even\nthe prefectoral splendor would begin to wane.\n\nBaron Massy had indeed been able to order the seizure of every\nobject deposited at the grotto; but there was no law recognizing\nsuch deposits as criminal, and it was impossible to forbid or punish\nthem. Hence, in spite of the spoliations of the prefect, the grotto\nwas often brilliantly lighted by candles, and filled with flowers and\nvotive offerings, and even with silver and gold coins contributed for\nthe building of the chapel which the Blessed Virgin had required.\nThe pious faithful wished in this way--though it were an ineffectual\none--to show the Queen of Heaven their good-will, zeal, and love.\n\"What matter is it if they do take the money? It will have been\noffered all the same. The candle will have given its light for a\ntime in honor of our Mother, and the bouquet will for an instant\nhave perfumed the sacred spot where her feet rested.\" Such were the\nthoughts of those Christian souls.\n\nJacomet and his agents continued to come and carry everything off.\nThe commissary, much encouraged after having escaped the dangers\nof the 4th of May, had become very scornful and brutal in his\nproceedings, sometimes throwing the object seized into the Gave\nbefore the scandalized eyes of the faithful. Sometimes, however, he\nwas obliged in spite of himself to leave a festal appearance at the\nholy place. This was when the ingenious piety of its visitors had\nstrewn the Grotto with innumerable rose-leaves, and it was impossible\nfor him to pick up the thousand remains of flowers which formed its\nbrilliant and perfumed carpet.\n\nThe kneeling crowds continued meanwhile to pray, without making any\nreply to this provoking conduct, and let matters take their course;\nshowing an extraordinary patience, such as God alone can give to an\nindignant multitude.\n\nOne evening, the report was spread that the emperor or his minister\nhad asked for the prayers of Bernadette. M. Dutour raised a shout of\ntriumph, and prepared to save the state. Three good women, who, as it\nseems, had made such a statement, were brought before the court, and\nthe _procureur_ demanded that they should be treated according to all\nthe rigor of the French law. Notwithstanding his indignant eloquence,\nthe judges acquitted two and condemned the other only to a fine of\nfive francs. The procureur, dissatisfied with this small amount,\ninsisted upon his suit, and made a desperate appeal to the imperial\ncourt at Pau, which, smiling at his anger, not only confirmed the\nacquittal of the two, but also refused to sustain the very small\njudgment pronounced against the third culprit, and dismissed the\ncharge altogether.\n\nWe mention this little occurrence, though an insignificant one in\nitself, to show how keenly the judges were upon the watch, and how\ncarefully they searched for some offence, for some opportunity to be\nsevere, since they employed their time in prosecuting poor simple\nwomen whose innocence was soon after declared by the imperial court.\n\nThe people still continued quiet, and afforded no pretext to the\nauthorities for making an attack upon them in the name of the law.\n\nOne night, under cover of the darkness, unknown hands tore up the\nconduits of the miraculous spring, and covered its waters with\nheaps of stone, earth, and sand. Who had raised this vile monument\nagainst the work of God, what impious and cowardly hands had secretly\ncommitted such profanation, were not known. But when the day broke,\nand the sacrilege became known, a sullen indignation, as might\nhave been foreseen, pervaded the multitudes who were collected at\nthe place, and that day the people filled the streets and roads\nin agitation like that of the sea when it foams and roars under\na violent wind. The police, magistracy, and _sergents-de-ville_\nwere on the watch, spying and listening, but they could not report\na single lawless action or seditious word. The divine influence\nwhich maintained order among these enraged multitudes was evidently\ninvincible.\n\nBut who, then, was the author of this outrage? The judges and police,\nin spite of their active and zealous endeavors, did not succeed in\ndetecting him. Hence it happened that some evil-minded persons dared\nto suspect the police and judiciary themselves (though evidently\nwith great injustice) of having tried by this means to produce some\ndisorders, in order to have an occasion to proceed with rigor.\n\nThe municipal authority most earnestly exculpated itself from all\nconnivance in the affair. That very evening, or the next day, the\nmayor gave orders to replace the conduits, and to clear the floor\nof the grotto of all the rubbish with which the fountain had been\nobstructed. The mayor's policy was to not assume personally any\ndecided position, but to keep things as they were. He was ready to\nact, but always as a subordinate, upon the prefect's orders and\nresponsibility.\n\nSometimes the people, fearing that they would not be able to control\ntheir feelings, took precautions against themselves. The association\nof stone-cutters, numbering some four or five hundred, had planned\nto make a great but peaceful demonstration at the grotto, and to go\nthere in procession singing canticles in honor of their patron feast\nof the Ascension, which came that year on the 13th of May. But,\nfeeling their hearts indignant and their hands unsteady under these\nproceedings of the authorities, they distrusted themselves, and gave\nup the idea. They contented themselves with relinquishing on that day\nin honor of our Lady of Lourdes the ball they were accustomed to give\nevery year to conclude their festival.\n\n\"We intend,\" said they, \"that no disturbance, even though\nunintentional, and no entertainment not approved by the church, shall\noccur to offend the eyes of the Holy Virgin who has deigned to visit\nus.\"\n\n\nVII.\n\nThe prefect perceived all the time, more and more, that coercion\nof any ordinary kind was impossible for him on account of this\nsurprising quietness, this peace as irritating as it was wonderful,\nwhich maintained itself without exterior force in these great\ncollections of people. There was not even an accident to disturb\nit. He was therefore obliged either to retrace his steps in the\ncourse which he had thus far pursued, and to leave the people quite\nalone, or to come to open violence and persecution by finding some\npretext for the imposition of arbitrary restraints upon them. It was\nnecessary either to recede or to advance.\n\nOn the other hand, the variety and suddenness of the cures which had\nbeen worked seemed to many good people rather poorly explained by the\ntherapeutic and mineral properties ascribed to the new spring. Doubts\nwere raised as to the strict accuracy of the scientific decision\nwhich had been given by M. Latour de Trie. A chemist of the vicinity,\nM. Thomas Pugo, claimed that this water was in no way extraordinary,\nand had not of itself any healing properties whatsoever; and in this\nhe was sustained by several other very capable professors in the\nprovince. Science was beginning to assert the entire incorrectness\nof the De Trie analysis; and the rumors to this effect had become so\nstrong that the municipal council of Lourdes took cognizance of them.\nThe mayor could not refuse to gratify the general desire to have a\nsecond analysis made of the water from the grotto. He, therefore,\nwithout consulting the prefect (which seemed to him useless on\naccount of the conviction entertained by the latter of the accuracy\nof the results of M. Latour), procured from the municipal council a\nvote authorizing him to obtain a new and definitive analysis from\nProf. Filhol, one of the principal chemists of our day. The council\nat the same time voted the funds required for the due compensation\nof the celebrated _savant_.\n\nM. Filhol was a man of authority in modern science, and his decision\nwould evidently not be open to appeal.\n\nWhat would be the result of his analysis? The prefect was not chemist\nenough to tell; but we think we cannot be much mistaken in thinking\nthat he must have been somewhat uneasy. The verdict of the eminent\nprofessor of chemistry of the faculty of Toulouse might, in fact,\ndisturb the combinations and plans of M. Massy. Haste was becoming\nimperative, and on this ground especially it was necessary to fall\nback or press forward.\n\nIn the midst of such various passions and complicated calculations,\npeople had not failed to subject Bernadette to some new trials as\nuseless as the preceding ones.\n\nShe had been preparing to make her first communion, and made it on\nCorpus Christi, the 3d of June. This was the very day on which the\nmunicipal council of Lourdes requested M. Filhol to analyze the\nmysterious water. Almighty God, entering into the heart of this\nchild, made also the analysis of a pure fount, and we may well\nbelieve that he must have admired and blessed, in this virginal soul,\na most pure spring and a most transparent crystal.\n\nNotwithstanding the retirement in which she preferred to hide\nherself, people continued to visit her. She was always the innocent\nand simple child whose portrait we have endeavored to present. She\ncharmed all those who conversed with her by her candor and manifest\ngood faith.\n\nOne day, a lady, after an interview with her, wished, in a moment of\nenthusiastic veneration easily conceivable by those who have seen\nBernadette, to exchange her chaplet of precious stones for that of\nthe child.\n\n\"Keep your own, madam,\" said she, showing her modest implement of\nprayer. \"You see what mine is, and I had rather not change. It is\npoor, like myself, and agrees better with my poverty.\"\n\nAn ecclesiastic tried to make her accept some money; she refused.\nHe insisted, only to be met by a refusal so formal that a longer\nresistance seemed useless. The priest, however, did not yet consider\nhis case as lost.\n\n\"Take it,\" said he; \"not for yourself, but for the poor, and then you\nwill have the pleasure of giving an alms.\"\n\n\"Do you, then, make it yourself for my intention, M. l'Abb\u00e9, and that\nwill do better than if I should make it myself,\" answered the child.\n\nPoor Bernadette intended to serve God gratuitously, and to fulfil\nthe mission with which she had been entrusted without leaving her\nhonorable poverty. And yet she and the family were sometimes in want\nof bread.\n\nAt this time the salary of the prefect, Baron Massy, was raised\nto 25,000 francs. Jacomet also received a gratuity. The Minister\nof Public Worship, in a letter which was communicated to several\nfunctionaries, assured the prefect of his perfect satisfaction,\nand, while commending all that he had so far done, he urged him to\ntake energetic measures, adding that, at all costs, the grotto and\nmiracles of Lourdes must be put an end to.[44]\n\nOn this ground, as well as on all the others, it was necessary\neither to retreat or to advance.\n\nBut what could be done?\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThe plan of the divine work was gradually being developed with\nits admirable and convincing logic. But at that time no one fully\nrecognized the invisible hand of God directing all the events,\nmanifest as it was, and M. Massy least of all. The midst of the\n_m\u00eal\u00e9e_ is not the best position from which to judge the order of\nbattle. The unfortunate prefect, who had set out upon the wrong\ntrack, saw in what occurred only a provoking series of unpleasant\nincidents and an inexplicable fatality. If we remove God from certain\nquestions, we are very likely to find in them something inexplicable.\n\nThe progress of events, slow but irresistible, was overthrowing\nsuccessively all the theses of unbelief, and forcing this miserable\nhuman philosophy to beat a retreat and to abandon one by one all its\nintrenchments.\n\nFirst, the apparitions had occurred. Free thought had at the outset\ndenied them out-and-out, accusing the seer of being only a tool, and\nof having lent herself to carry out a deception. This thesis had not\nstood before the examination of the child, whose veracity was evident.\n\nUnbelief, dislodged from this first position, fell back on the theory\nof hallucination or catalepsy. \"She thinks she sees something; but\nshe does not. It is all a mistake.\"\n\nProvidence meanwhile had brought together from the four winds its\nthousands and thousands of witnesses to the ecstatic states of the\nchild, and in due time had given a solemn confirmation to the truth\nof Bernadette's story by producing a miraculous fountain before the\nastonished eyes of the assembled multitudes.\n\n\"There is no fountain,\" was then the word of unbelief. \"It is an\ninfiltration, a pool, a puddle; anything that you please, except a\nfountain.\"\n\nBut the more they publicly and solemnly denied it, the more did\nthe stream increase, as if it had been a living being, until it\nacquired prodigious proportions. More than a hundred thousand litres\n(twenty-two thousand gallons) issued daily from this strange rock.\n\n\"It is an accident; it is a freak of chance,\" stammered the infidels,\nconfounded and recoiling.\n\nNext, events following their inevitable course, the most remarkable\ncures had immediately attested the miraculous nature of the fountain,\nand given a new and decisive proof of the divine reality of the\nall-powerful apparition whose mere gesture had brought forth this\nfountain of life under a mortal hand.\n\nThe first move of the philosophers was to deny the cures, as they\nhad before denied Bernadette's sincerity and the existence of the\nfountain.\n\nBut suddenly these had become so numerous and indubitable that their\nopponents were obliged to take yet another step in retreat, and admit\nthem.\n\n\"Well, granted; there are some cures certainly, but they are natural;\nthe spring has some therapeutic ingredients,\" cried the unbelievers,\nholding in their hands some sort of a semblance of chemical analysis.\nAnd then instantaneous cures, absolutely unaccountable upon such a\nhypothesis, were multiplied; and at the same time, in various places,\nconscientious and skilful chemists declared distinctly that the\nMassabielle water had not any mineral properties, that it was common\nwater, and that the official analysis of M. Latour de Trie was meant\nsimply to please the prefect.\n\nDriven in this way from all the intrenchments in which, after their\nsuccessive defeats, they had taken refuge; pursued by the dazzling\nevidence of the fact; crushed by the weight of their own avowals; and\nnot being able to take back these successive and compulsory avowals,\npublicly registered in their own newspapers, what remained for the\nphilosophers and free-thinkers to do? Only to surrender humbly to\ntruth. Only to bow the head, bend the knee, and believe; only to do\nthat which the ripe grain does when its cells begin to fill.\n\n\"The same change has taken place,\" says Montaigne, \"in the truly\nwise, as in the stalks of wheat, which rise up and hold up their\nheads erect and proud as long as they are empty, but, when they are\nfull and distended with the ripe grain, begin to humble themselves,\nto bend toward the ground. So men, when they have tried and sounded\nall things, ... renounce their presumption and recognize their\nnatural condition.\"\n\nPerhaps the philosophers of Lourdes had not an intellect open or\nstrong enough to receive and hold the good grain. Perhaps pride made\nthem inflexible and rebellious to manifest evidence. At any rate,\nwith the happy exception of some who were converted, that change did\nnot come to them which has come to those who are truly wise, and they\ncontinued to keep the lofty and proud attitude of the empty stalks.\n\nNot only did their attitude remain thus, but their impiety, after\nbeing disgracefully pursued from one quibble, sophism, or falsehood\nto another, and finally driven against the wall, suddenly unmasked\nitself and showed its real face. It passed, as we may say, from the\ndomain of discussion and reasoning, which it had been trying to\nusurp, to that of intolerance and violence, which was its proper home.\n\nBaron Massy, who was perfectly informed as to the state of public\nfeeling, understood with his rare sagacity that, if he took arbitrary\nmeasures and resorted to persecution, he would have a considerable\nmoral support in the exasperation of the unbelievers, who were\ndefeated, humiliated, and furious.\n\nHe also had been defeated as yet in the contest similar to, if not\nexactly the same as, theirs, which he had been carrying on against\nthe supernatural. All his efforts had come to nothing.\n\nThe supernatural, beginning at the base of a desolate rock and\nannounced only by the voice of a child, had entered upon its course,\noverthrowing all obstacles, drawing the people with it, and gaining\nto itself on the way enthusiastic acclamations, prayers, and the\ncries of gratitude from the popular faith.\n\nOnce more, what remained to be done?\n\nOne course yet remained: to resist evidence, and to make an attack\nupon the multitude.\n\n\nIX.\n\nIn the midst of all these turns of fortune, the question of the\nprefectoral stables had become more and more exciting, and greatly\nincreased the prefect's exasperation. The month of June had come. The\nseason at the watering-places was beginning, and would soon bring\nto the Pyrenees bathers and tourists from all parts of Europe, and\nshow them the disturbance which the supernatural was making in the\ndepartment governed by Baron Massy. The instructions of M. Rouland\nwere becoming most urgent, and pointed to summary proceedings. On the\n6th of June, M. Fould, the Minister of Finance, stopped at Tarbes\non his way to his summer residence, and had a long interview with M.\nMassy. It was rumored that this conference related to the events at\nthe grotto.\n\nThe act of drinking at a spring upon the common land of the town\ncould not be considered as in itself an offence against the law. The\nfirst thing to be done by the opponents of superstition was therefore\nto find a pretext for so regarding it. Arbitrary proceedings have not\nin France the official right which they enjoy in Russia or Turkey,\nbut need a cover of law.\n\nThe able prefect had an idea on this subject as ingenious as it was\nsimple. The site of the Massabielle Cliffs belonging to the town of\nLourdes, the mayor, as its administrator, could prohibit any one from\nvisiting them, for or even without any reason whatever, in the same\nway as any private owner of land forbids at his pleasure the trespass\nof others upon it. Such a prohibition, publicly announced, would turn\neach visit to the grotto into a formal crime.\n\nThe plan of the baron hinged upon this idea; and, having hit upon it,\nhe decided to act it out and play the despot.\n\nAccordingly, on the following day, the mayor of Lourdes was\ninstructed to issue the following order:\n\n\"The mayor of the town of Lourdes, _acting under the instructions\naddressed to him by the superior authorities_, and under the laws of\nthe 14th and 22d of December, 1789, of the 16th and 24th of August,\n1790, of the 19th and 22d of July, 1791, and of the 18th of July,\n1837, on Municipal Administration;\n\n\"And considering that it is very desirable, _in the interest of\nreligion_, to put an end to the _deplorable_ scenes now presented at\nthe Grotto of Massabielle, at Lourdes, on the left bank of the Gave;\n\n\"Also, that _the care of the local public health devolves upon the\nmayor_, and that a great number, both of citizens and strangers, come\nto draw water from a spring in the aforesaid grotto, _the water of\nwhich is suspected on good grounds to contain mineral ingredients_,\nmaking it prudent, before permitting its use, to wait for a\nscientific analysis to determine the application which may be made of\nit in medicine; and,\n\n\"Also, that the _laws subject the working of mineral springs to a\npreliminary authorization by government_:\n\n\"Issues the following\n\n    DECREE.\n\n    \"1. It is forbidden to draw water at the aforesaid\n    spring.\n\n    \"2. It is also forbidden to pass through the common\n    land known as the bank of Massabielle.\n\n    \"3. A barrier will be put up at the entrance to the\n    grotto to prevent access; and\n\n    \"Posts will be set bearing these words: 'It is\n    forbidden to enter this property.'\n\n    \"4. All transgressions of this decree will be\n    prosecuted according to law.\n\n    \"5. The Commissary of Police,\n\n    \"The Gendarmerie,\n\n    \"The Gardes Champ\u00eatres,\n\n    \"And the authorities of the commune,\n\n    \"Are entrusted with the execution of this decree.\n\n    \"Signed in the mayor's office at Lourdes, on the 8th of\n    June, 1858.\n\n                                      \"The Mayor, A. LACAD\u00c9.\n\n    \"Approved:\n\n          \"The Prefect, O. MASSY\"\n\n\nX.\n\nIt was not without some hesitation that M. Lacad\u00e9 consented to sign\nand undertake to execute this decree. His character, somewhat\nwanting in decision and inclined to compromise, necessarily\ndisinclined him to such a manifest act of hostility against the\nmysterious power which hovered invisibly over the events which had\ncentred round the grotto at Lourdes. On the other hand, the mayor, as\nwas very proper, enjoyed the exercise of his office, and perhaps had\neven a little undue fondness for it; and his alternative was either\nto become the instrument of the prefectoral violence or to resign\nthe honors of the mayoralty. Although perhaps not really trying,\nthe situation was certainly embarrassing for the chief-magistrate\nof Lourdes. M. Lacad\u00e9 hoped, however, to conciliate all parties by\nrequiring M. Massy, as a condition of his signature, to insert at the\nhead of the decree, at the very outset, the words, \"Acting under the\ninstructions addressed to him by the superior authorities,\" as above.\n\n\"In this way,\" said the mayor to himself, \"I assume no responsibility\nbefore the public or in my own eyes. I have not taken the initiative,\nbut remain neutral. I do not command, but only obey. I do not give\nthis order, but receive it. I am not the author of this decree, I\nonly execute it. All the blame rests upon my immediate superior, the\nprefect.\"\n\nComing from a soldier in a regiment drawn up for battle, such\nreasoning would have been irreproachable.\n\nHaving reassured himself on this principle, M. Lacad\u00e9 took measures\nfor the execution of the prefectoral edict, having it published and\nput on the walls in all parts of the town. At the same time, under\nthe protection of an armed force and the direction of Jacomet,\nbarriers were put up around the Massabielle rocks, so that no one,\nexcept by breaking through or climbing over them, could reach\nthe grotto and the miraculous fountain. Posts with notices, as\nprescribed by the decree, were also set up here and there at all\npoints of entrance to the common land which surrounded the venerable\nspot. They prohibited trespass under pain of prosecution. Some\n_sergents-de-ville_ and _gardes_ kept watch day and night, being\nrelieved hourly, to prepare _proc\u00e8s-verbaux_ against all who should\npass these posts to kneel in the vicinity of the grotto.\n\n\nXI.\n\nThere was at Lourdes a judge of the name of Duprat, who was as\nviolently opposed to the supernatural as Jacomet, Massy, Dutour, and\nothers of the constituted authorities. This judge, not being able\nunder the circumstances to sentence the delinquents to anything more\nthan a very small fine, contrived an indirect method to make the\nfine enormous and truly formidable for the poor people who came to\npray before the grotto, and to beg from the Blessed Virgin, one the\nrestoration of health, another the cure of a darling child, a third\nsome spiritual favor or consolation under some great affliction.\n\nM. Duprat then imposed upon each offender a fine of five francs.\nBut, by a conception worthy of his genius, he united under a single\nsentence all who disregarded the prefectoral prohibition, either by\nforming a party together, or even, as it would seem, by visiting the\ngrotto in the course of the same day; and he made each liable to\nthe whole amount of the fine. Thus, if one or two hundred persons\ncame in this way to the rocks of Massabielle, each one of them was\nresponsible not only for himself, but also for the others, that is,\nto the extent of five hundred or a thousand francs. And as the\nindividual and original fine was only five francs, the decision of\nthis magistrate was without appeal, and there was no way to correct\nit. Judge Duprat was all-powerful, and it was thus that he used his\npower.\n\n\nXII.\n\nSuch an outrageous interference in the important question which had\nfor some months been pending on the banks of the Gave implied on the\npart of the authorities not only the denial of the supernatural in\nthis particular case, but also that of its possibility. If this had\nbeen admitted for an instant, the measures of the administration\nwould have been entirely different; they would have had for their\nobject the examination, not the suppression, of the controversy.\n\nOne thing had been absolutely certain, namely, the cures; whether\nthey had been brought about by the mineral qualities of the water, by\nthe imagination of the patients, or by miraculous intervention, these\ncures were indubitable, and officially recognized by the infidels\nthemselves, who, not being able to deny them, merely tried to explain\nthem on some natural principle.\n\nThe faithful and perfectly trustworthy witnesses to the efficacy of\nthe water in their own cases could be counted by hundreds. There was\nnot a single one who reported that its effects had been prejudicial.\nWhy, then, all these prohibitory measures, these barriers put up,\nthis menacing armed force, these persecutions? And why, if such\nmeasures were proper, should not the principle be carried out\nfurther? Why not close every place of pilgrimage where a sick person\nhas been restored to health, every church where any one has received\nan answer to prayer? This question was in every mouth.\n\n\"If Bernadette,\" said one, \"without saying anything about visions and\napparitions, had simply found a mineral spring possessing powerful\nhealing virtues, what government would ever have forbidden sick\npeople to drink of it? Nero himself would not have gone so far; in\nall countries, a reward would have been given to the child. But here\nthe sick people kneel and pray, and these liveried subalterns, who\ncrouch before their masters, do not like to have any one prostrate\nhimself before God. This is the real reason. It is prayer which is\npersecuted.\"\n\n\"But shall we allow superstition?\" said the free-thinkers.\n\n\"Is not the church able to take care of that and to guard the\nfaithful against error? Let her act in her own province, and do not\nmake an \u0153cumenical council out of the prefecture, and an infallible\npope out of a prefect or a minister. What disorder has been caused by\nthese events? None whatever. What evil has occurred to justify your\nprecautionary measures? Absolutely none. The mysterious fountain has\nonly done good. Let the believing people go and drink of it, if they\nplease. Leave them their liberty to believe, to pray, to be healed;\nthe liberty to turn to God and to ask from heaven consolation in\ntheir grief. You who demand free thought, let prayer also be free.\"\n\nBut neither the anti-christian philosophy nor the pious prefect of\nHautes Pyrenees would consent to notice this unanimous protest, and\nthe severe measures were continued.\n\nThe intolerance of which the enemies of Christianity so unjustly\naccuse the Catholic Church is their own ruling passion. They are\nessentially tyrants and persecutors.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[44] This letter of M. Rouland, the text of which, in spite of all\nour efforts, we have not been able to procure, was communicated to\nseveral persons, and all the correspondence before us mentions it,\ngiving it in the same terms which we have just used.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SHAMROCK GONE WEST.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \"ROMANCE OF THE CHARTER OAK.\"\n\n\nAbout a generation ago, there might have been seen moving across\nthe Wabash Valley, Indiana, one of those heavy-built wagons, with\nbroad canvas tops, known in the West as prairie schooners. The\nwheels, which had not been greased since they left New Hampshire,\nwere creaking dolefully, and the youth who urged on the jaded team\ndeclared that the sound reminded him of the frogs in his father's\nmill-pond. Attached to the rear of the wagon was a coop, containing\na rooster and half a dozen hens, evidently suffering from their long\nconfinement; while underneath the coop, swinging to and fro, as if\nkeeping time to the music of the wheels, was a bucket.\n\nNat Putnam held the reins with a tight grip, his eyes were fixed\nstraight in front of him, and his steeple crowned hat, which\nlooked as if it might have been a legacy from one of his Puritan\nforefathers, was placed as far on the back of his head as possible,\nso as not to obstruct the view. He was perhaps twenty-one or two\nyears of age; but it would have been rash to gauge his wisdom by\nthe date of his birth. If ever there was a Yankee hard to outwit,\nit was our friend, and his mother had often declared that her boy\ncould see through a stone wall. The very shape of his nose, which was\nnot unlike an eagle's beak, warned you to be on your guard when you\nwere making a trade with him; while his face, spotted all over with\nfreckles, could readily assume every expression from highest glee to\ndeepest melancholy; thus enabling him to fill whatever post in life\nmight be most congenial, were it circus clown or ruling elder.\n\n\"Mr. Putnam, when are we going to halt?\" inquired a female voice,\nwhich seemed to come from the interior of the wagon. Before the\nyouth answered, the speaker had placed herself at his side and was\ngazing at him with a woeful look. Poor thing! well might she ask the\nquestion. Ever since he had picked her up in the State of New York,\nhe had kept travelling on and on, until Mary O'Brien thought he was\nnever going to stop. Her father, who had been with them the first\nweek of the journey, had died, and Nat had only tarried long enough\nto bury the old man, and let the daughter say a few prayers over his\ngrave.\n\n\"Don't find fault,\" he replied. \"The spirit moves me to keep pushing\nWest; the further I go, the better I feel. This everlasting woods\nmust come to an end by-and-by, and when we reach the open country\nyou'll not grumble.\"\n\n\"But I'm quite worn out,\" pursued Mary; \"and my shamrock is tired\ntoo. If you'd only rest and make a home, and let me plant it! The\njolting of the wagon and the want of sunlight is killing it. Poor\nshamrock!\" Here she left the seat, but presently returned, carrying\na box filled with earth, in which was a little three-leafed clover.\n\n\"See,\" she exclaimed, \"how different it looks from a month ago. 'Tis\ndrooping fast.\" As she spoke she gave the plant a kiss. Her companion\nglanced at her a moment, then with a smile of pity, \"How old are\nyou?\" he asked.\n\n\"Eighteen.\"\n\n\"Humph! I guess you're out of your reckoning. If you were that old,\nyou'd chuck that piece of grass away and take to something serious.\nThere's my Bible, why don't you read a chapter now and then? 'Twould\ninstruct you, and keep me from getting rusty--a thing I'd deeply\nregret, for I may take to exhorting if farming don't pay.\"\n\n\"Throw my shamrock out of the wagon! Why, Mr. Putnam, 'twas father's,\nand he brought it all the way from Tipperary. I'm going to keep\nit--as long as I live, I am. It may wither, but I'll never throw it\naway.\"\n\n\"Well, well, as you like. But I repeat--why can't you read the Bible\nonce in a while, instead of wasting your time playing with a lot of\ndried peas? Do they come from Tipperary, too?\"\n\n\"Oh! these are my beads,\" she replied, taking her Rosary from her\npocket; \"and it's praying I am, when you see me slipping these little\nround things through my fingers.\"\n\n\"Praying! Then you must have prayed a heap. Are you in earnest?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\n\"Well, can't your spirit be moved without using them peas, or beads\nas you call them? It seems to me they must bother you.\"\n\n\"I use 'em, sir, to keep count, or I mightn't say all the Hail Marys\nand Our Fathers.\" Here Nat started, and lifting his sandy eyebrows,\n\"Aha!\" he exclaimed. \"So! Indeed! Then 'twas keeping a tally of\nyour prayers? Well, now, there's something in that. I really didn't\nbelieve you were so 'cute. The devil couldn't say that you hadn't\nbeen square on your devotions when you'd kept a strict tally.\"\n\nThe girl smiled, then, bowing her head, seemed to be whispering\nsomething to the shamrock.\n\n\"Different from other gals!\" thought Putnam, as he glanced at the\npale face and long, raven hair, which without braid or ribbon flowed\ndown until it rested on the bottom of the wagon. \"Yes, different from\nother gals! Can't quite make her out. She ain't a child, yet seems\nlike one. Keeping a tally of her prayers is the first sign of her\nbeing 'cute. But that's a beginning anyhow. I'll educate her little\nby little. Oh! if she'd only take to the Bible.\" Here he gave the\nreins a jerk, then asked Mary to read him a chapter from the Book of\nProverbs.\n\n\"I can't read,\" she frankly replied.\n\n\"Can't read! Can't read! That I won't believe. Why, there's Jemima\nHopkins, in Conway, where I come from, that not only reads, but has\nstarted on a lecturing tour; and she ain't--let me see; she was born\nthe year of the comet--no she ain't a day over fourteen.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm not Jemima Hopkins.\"\n\n\"No, that you ain't; Jemima is a prodigy.\"\n\n\"And I'm a goose.\"\n\n\"But don't own it,\" said the youth. \"Talk as little as possible, and\nthen the world may not find it out. Why, I know a chap in Conway that\npasses for 'larned,' and all 'cause he has the toothache every time\nhe's asked to make a speech. You see, he puts on a wise look, holds\nhis tongue, and has so humbugged the folks that they call him Uncle\nSolomon.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't want to be taken for what I'm not,\" rejoined Mary, a\ntear trickling down her cheek.\n\n\"What ails you now?\" exclaimed Nat. \"Oh! how different you are from\nJemima Hopkins!\" The girl made no response, but sighed, \"Father,\nfather.\"\n\n\"The old man's underground,\" pursued the youth, in as soft a voice\nas he could assume. \"Crying won't bring him back. Dry your eyes, and\nvow to smash to atoms every whiskey-bottle that ever comes within\nyour reach. I suspect his constitution was undermined by habits of\nintemperance.\n\n\"Father didn't drink in Ireland,\" sobbed the girl. \"'Twas at that\nhorrid grog-shop in New York he got the habit.\"\n\n\"Pure fountain water,\" murmured Nat, rolling his eyes toward the\nheavens, \"what a blessed thing thou art! Those who give thee up for\nalcohol make a poor swap.\" Then suddenly fixing his gaze on the young\nwoman, \"Mary,\" said he, \"I never but once tasted liquor. 'Twas at a\ncattle show year afore last; and do you know what happened? I paid\ntwo hundred and fifty dollars for a horse that was foundered and\nkicked so bad I couldn't drive him home. Now that's something I'd\nnever have done if my head had been clear; but 'twas a lesson--a good\nlesson, and I told Jemima Hopkins (who got wind of it--women find out\neverything) to make her first lecture on temperance.\"\n\nThe young woman, who seemed not to have been listening to this\nepisode in his history, was now moaning piteously for her father, nor\ndid she cease until her companion in an agitated tone bade her keep\nquiet. \"Your lamentations,\" he said, \"are horrible to listen to.\"\n\n\"Don't you love your father?\" spoke Mary, gazing at him through her\ntears. \"Wouldn't you cry if he were dead?\"\n\n\"Cry if he were dead!\" repeated the youth with a shudder. \"Oh! why\ndid you ask me that question? You're a strange being. Who gave you\npower to look into my heart? Do you know that I quarrelled with\nthe old man, and left without saying good-by, and every mile I've\ntravelled his last look has haunted me? 'I am near the grave,' he\nsaid, 'don't abandon me. Attend the mill, 'twill soon belong to you.'\nBut I laughed in his face. 'The mill,' said I, 'is out of repair, and\nonly fit to shelter rats and swallows; while the soil won't yield\nmore than fourteen bushels of corn to the acre.' And then I turned my\nback on him.\"\n\n\"When he's dead, you'll be sorry for that,\" said the girl. \"Write\nhome and ask his forgiveness. Do, before it's too late.\"\n\n\"Home!\" murmured the youth as he drove along. \"Home!\" Oh! what\nmemories were awakened at the sound of that word which spoke in a\nthousand magic whispers! He was again a little boy seated on his\nfather's knee, in the old house at the foot of Mount Kearsarge,\nlistening to stories of the Revolution. The wind was howling--the\nsnow coming in through the key-hole and under the door--a fearful\nnight to be out. But what did he care about the tempest? He was safe\non his father's knee.\n\n\"Mary,\" said Putnam, just as they reached the foot of a hill, \"I'll\ntake your advice, and write home the first chance I get. And I'll\ntell the old man that I'm sorry for the hard words I used. I'll ask\nhim, too, to follow me-for I'm going to halt by-and-by; and I'll make\nhim as comfortable as if he were in New Hampshire.\"\n\n\"Do,\" said the young woman; \"'twill bring God's blessing on you.\"\n\nHere he placed the reins in her hands, then, telling her that he was\ngoing to reconnoitre and find which was the best way to get over the\nhill, he left the wagon with a lighter heart than he had known in\nmany a day.\n\nA little climbing brought him to a spot where the ground was again\nlevel, but where the timber was thicker and the wagon would have hard\nwork to get along; and he was wondering if the everlasting forest was\nnever coming to an end, when he was startled by a rustling noise,\nand, looking round, saw a wild turkey dart off her nest, while at\nthe same instant ever so many young ones, which appeared as if only\njust hatched, began scattering in every direction. \"I'll catch this\nfellow,\" said Nat, running after the nearest bird, \"and make him a\npresent to Mary.\" But, young as it was, the little thing managed\nto reach a clump of hazel-bushes about thirty yards distant, into\nwhich, its pursuer dashed only a step behind, and in his excitement\nNat kept straight on, nor did he stop until he found himself clear\nof the thicket. But there he came to a sudden halt, and for almost a\nminute stood as if rooted to the earth. Was the scene which had burst\nupon him a vision of paradise? The forest had ended, the hill sloped\ngently to the west, and before him like a boundless sea, fired by the\nrays of the setting sun, lay the prairie of Illinois. Then he shouted\nfor Mary, who with impatient step hastened up the hill, wondering\nwhat was the matter, and who arrived just as he was beginning to sing\n_Old Hundred_. The glorious view brought tears of joy to her eyes,\nfor she felt sure Nat had at length found a spot where he would be\nwilling to settle down and make a home, and, clasping her hands, she\nlikewise offered up a prayer of thanksgiving.\n\n\"Isn't this ahead of anything you ever dreamed of?\" exclaimed the\nyouth, when he had finished the hymn. \"I've heerd Parson Job at\ncamp-meeting trying to picture heaven; but, although I'd not have\ndared say it aloud, yet really I never felt as if I'd care a straw\nabout such a place as he described--fellows with wings and harps\nskipping around, and singing hallelujahs for all eternity without\never getting out of breath. But here is a country I can imagine like\nthe home of the blest.\"\n\n\"Heaven is more beautiful than this,\" rejoined his companion. \"Yet\n'tis a glorious country. Oh! settle here, do, and give my shamrock\nrest.\"\n\n\"As you say,\" continued Nat, patting her cheek, and at the same time\npiercing her through with his sharp gray eyes. \"You're my 'Blessing.'\nI owe you more than I ever can pay. When you made me promise to\nwrite home and ask the old man's forgiveness, a load heavier than\na millstone was taken off my heart. You ain't as larned as Jemima\nHopkins, and you ain't 'cute--though keeping a tally of your prayers\nis something, and shows what you may become by proper education--but,\nignorant as you are, there's still a great deal in you.\" Here he\nleft her, and went back for the wagon, which, after not a little\ndifficulty, he managed to bring across the hill; then, having chosen\na spot near a spring of water, he unhitched the horses, while Mary\nlet out the fowls, who clapped their wings as if they were mad; nor\ndid the rooster stop crowing until the hens--anxious to make their\nnests--gathered round him, and forced him to hold his tongue and be\nserious.\n\nAs it was sunset, Putnam could do little more than reconnoitre the\nvicinity of the camping-ground, so, shouldering his rifle, he walked\noff, leaving the girl to prepare the evening meal.\n\nBut Mary had scarcely lit the fire when he came running back, and\npointed out to her a figure on horseback, advancing along the\nprairie. \"It may be an Indian,\" said he. \"If he's peaceful, I'll read\nhim a chapter in the Bible; if he's ugly, I'll shoot.\"\n\nIn about a quarter of an hour the stranger had approached near enough\nfor them to discover that he was a person of their own race, with\nlong, white hair, and a cross hanging at his side; so, throwing down\nthe gun, Nat shouted welcome. The traveller, although astonished to\nhear a human voice, did not draw rein, but kept on up the hill, and\nin another moment the youth had grasped his hand and was giving it a\nhearty shake.\n\n\"So soon!\" exclaimed the Jesuit missionary--for such was the\ncharacter of the new-comer. \"Already! Oh! you Americans are a great\npeople. In a few years you will be across the continent.\"\n\n\"Well, I've fetched up here,\" said Putnam, grinning. \"Not that the\nspirit didn't move me to push further West; but yonder gal--my\n'Blessing,' as I call her--urged me to stop.\"\n\nHere the priest glanced at Mary, then remarked:\n\n\"Your sister, I suppose, or wife?\"\n\n\"I haven't any sister,\" replied the youth, \"and ain't 'spliced' yet.\nShe's a gal I picked up as I was coming through York State. Her\nfather was with her, and I took him along too; but he died in a few\ndays, and I buried him on the roadside, and as she had no home I told\nher she'd better stick to me. She's awful green, but for all that she\nhas her good points, and has made me happier than I've been in a\nlong time.\"\n\nWith this Nat beckoned to Mary, who, as soon as she discovered\nin whose presence she was standing, fell on her knees, while the\nmissionary gave her his blessing.\n\nThat evening the youth, true to his promise, wrote an affectionate\nletter to his father, which the Jesuit assured him he would deliver\nwith his own hand. \"And I will bring you an answer,\" said the latter,\n\"for I shall pass this way on my return to the mission, which I hope\nto reach before winter sets in.\"\n\nThe next morning, when Putnam awoke, he found that the priest had\nalready departed.\n\n\"That,\" said the youth, \"is a point in his favor. The early bird\ncatches the worms. So, Mary, he was one of your preachers? First I\never saw.\"\n\n\"I hope you liked him,\" rejoined the girl.\n\n\"Well, his coming so handy to take my letter did bend me toward him;\nyet I don't think I ever could sit still under his preaching.\"\n\n\"And why not?\"\n\n\"'Cause he's a papist. I've heerd enough about 'em.\"\n\nTo this the young woman made no response, but gazed sorrowfully at\nher companion a moment, then turned her eyes toward the West. The\nscene was enchanting. The breeze, which had risen with the dawn, was\ncoming joyously over the prairie, brushing aside the mist, gathering\nup the perfume of ten thousand flowers, and touched Mary's lips\nlike a breath from the Garden of Eden. And as it played with her\nraven hair, and brought the roses to her cheeks, Nat could not help\nthinking she was as fair as any lass he had ever met in New Hampshire.\n\n\"Yet she don't seem to know it,\" he said. \"She's very green about\nher beauty.\" A herd of deer were feeding only a short distance\naway--in every direction the grouse dotted the plain--while circling\nround and round, in bold relief against the azure sky, was an eagle.\n\nThe whole of this day and the next, Putnam kept hard at work felling\ntrees to build a log-house, while the girl remained near the wagon,\nplying her needle, watching her shamrock, which already showed signs\nof renewed life, and gathering the eggs, which the hens insisted on\nlaying every hour, so as to make up for lost time.\n\nAt length, when he had cut down trees enough, he bade Mary follow him\nout on the plain, having first filled her apron with stakes--for what\npurpose she could not imagine.\n\n\"What on earth are you doing?\" she exclaimed, after having walked by\nhis side almost an hour.\n\n\"Can't you guess?\" he said, halting abruptly. \"Are you so green as\nall that?\"\n\n\"Upon my word,\" replied the girl, \"your conduct is distressing; yes,\nit frightens me to see you turning and twisting in every direction,\ndriving these pieces of wood into the ground, and counting on your\nfingers. Oh! what'll become of me if you've gone mad?\"\n\n\"Mad! Ha! Jemima Hopkins wouldn't have said that. Jemima--\"\n\n\"Was born the year of the comet,\" interrupted his companion,\nlaughing, \"and I'm only a goose.\"\n\n\"Well, don't own it if you are; I'll educate you. And now here goes\nthe first lesson.\" With this he lifted his forefinger, then shutting\none eye, \"You must know we won't be long in such a beautiful spot\nwithout company. My wagon-tracks will lead many to Illinois who\nwouldn't have stirred from the shadow of Mount Kearsarge if I hadn't\nset the example. Me-thinks even now I hear 'em cracking their whips\nand bidding good-by to the old folks in Conway. They'll come, too,\nfrom other parts of New Hampshire; ay, by the score and hundred\nthey'll come. Now, such being the case, why not have a town laid out\nby the time they arrive? And right here where we stand shall be our\nmansion: 'cause, you perceive, it's a corner-lot. While yonder, on\nt'other corner--so as to be handy in case of rain--I'll get 'em to\nbuild the meeting-house; and oh! won't I be proud when it's finished!\nAnd what a fine rooster I'll put on the steeple!\"\n\n\"No, put a cross,\" said the young woman, \"or I'll not go inside of\nit.\"\n\n\"What! a cross, emblem of popery, on this virgin soil, where there's\nnever been one seen, unless 'twas that which your preacher carried\nyesterday? No, indeed! I've heerd enough about popery.\"\n\n\"I'll pray God to enlighten you,\" said the girl, at the same time\nheaving a sigh.\n\n\"Well, the more light I get, the less I'll want a popish emblem on\ntop of the meeting-house.\" Here Nat struck his forehead, then gazing\nat Mary with an expression of anger, \"Have you come so far with me,\"\nhe said, \"to quarrel at last? Bah! you are a goose.\" With this he\nturned on his heel and walked off, muttering to himself and evidently\nvery much excited.\n\nPoor Mary did not open her lips again that day, but helped build the\nlog-house with the greatest good-will. Nor did Putnam address her a\nsingle word. In fact, it was not until a week had gone by and the\ndwelling was almost finished that he so far recovered from his ill\nhumor as to speak to her in a friendly way.\n\n\"Mary,\" said he, looking proudly up at the mud-plastered chimney,\n\"this is a good beginning. The first house is always the hardest to\nerect; and you've worked like a beaver. Tell me, now, are you still\nof the same mind about the cross? Will you stay away from meeting\nunless I give up my point?\"\n\n\"I will,\" replied the girl firmly. \"I want a Catholic Church, or none\nat all.\"\n\n\"Is my 'Blessing' in earnest?\"\n\n\"Yes, and praying hard that God may open your eyes to the truth.\"\n\n\"Open my eyes! Well, you're the first mortal ever insinuated that\nNat Putnam wasn't wide-awake. But enough; there's a split between us\nnothing can mend. Alas!\" Here he walked off to the hill muttering,\n\"What a pity! what a pity! Ignorant as she is, there's yet something\nabout her which goes to my heart. I love Mary O'Brien. I might even\nask her to become my wife, if she hadn't such foolish notions about\nreligion. But not content with making the sign of the cross afore\nevery meal, she actually wants one put on top of the meeting-house.\nWhat an idea! A cross! A thing never seen on this virgin soil till\nthat old preacher came along.\"\n\nFor more than an hour the youth wandered about the hillside,\nlamenting Mary's obstinacy and superstition, until at length he heard\nher blowing the horn for dinner.\n\n\"Let her blow,\" he said, \"I'm in no humor to eat anything. I'll just\nlay down and take a nap.\" With this he threw himself on the ground,\nand was about settling his head on a comfortable spot, which seemed\nas if intended by nature for a pillow, when he gave a start and rose\nto his feet. \"As I live,\" he cried, \"this is a grave! And if there\nisn't a cross at one end of it!--and some thing carved upon the\nwood--what can it be?\" Here he stooped, and, after brushing away a\nlittle moss which partly covered the knife-cuts, spelt out the words,\n\n    \"May his soul rest in peace!\"\n\n\"Well, now, this does beat all,\" he continued. \"Who'd 'ave believed a\ncross had got to this place ahead of me? And there's something about\nthe epitaph which makes me feel solemn. I wonder how long since these\nwords were cut. Perhaps for years and years only the deer and eagles\nhave gazed upon them. Perhaps since the day the corpse was buried, no\nlips but mine have spoken over this lonely grave, 'May his soul rest\nin peace!'\"\n\nFor a few minutes the youth lingered by the mound, wrestling with\nhimself--for he was conscious that a change was coming over him--then\nwended his way back to the cabin, resolved to be frank with Mary, and\nconfess that a cross had got here before Nat Putnam.\n\nHe had arrived within a couple of paces of the door, which was\nhalf-open, when, hearing her speaking, he stopped. \"She is praying,\"\nhe said. \"What a fine voice she has! Better than Jemima's.\" Then,\nsoftly advancing, he discovered her kneeling on the floor, her hands\nclasped, and her cheek wet with tears. In an earnest tone she was\nasking God to pardon her father his many sins of intemperance; then\nwith equal fervor, she began to pray for the speedy return of the\nmissionary, bringing Putnam a blessing and forgiveness from his aged\nparent.\n\nAt these words the youth trembled with emotion, and bursting into the\nroom, \"Mary, Mary,\" he cried, \"I take back all I said. I laughed when\nyou made the sign of the cross, and I called you ignorant. But you're\nmore larned than Nat Putnam. Your prayer, a moment ago, stirred me\nup as I never was stirred at camp-meeting. It made me feel as when\nthrough the dark clouds I see blue sky peeping out. Praying for the\ndead! O God! if your preacher comes back and tells me father is dead,\nI can do one act of reparation--pray for his soul. And but for you,\nI'd not have written home; but for you, black remorse would have gone\non eating deeper and deeper into my soul--and remorse is hell.\"\n\n\"Mr. Putnam,\" said the young woman, who, startled by his wild look,\nhad risen to her feet, \"my prayers have been heard.\"\n\n\"Yes, they have. I am a Catholic, and vow that our first\nmeeting-house shall have a cross upon it. O my 'Blessing!' never can\nI be grateful enough to the Almighty for throwing you in my path!\"\n\n\"It seemed an accident,\" pursued the girl, \"yet it may indeed have\nbeen God's work. If it has proved for the good of your soul, it,\nperhaps, has saved mine. I cannot tell you how I was tempted when\nI lived in the city of New York. Why, one night, when I was out\nlooking for father, somebody whispered in my ear that I might live\nin splendor if I chose. The tenement-house where we lodged seemed to\nhold as many people as there are in the whole of Tipperary. Father\nand I, with a score of others, slept in a damp room underground. Oh!\nwhen I think of those days, it is like a horrid dream.\"\n\n\"Well, why don't them people follow my tracks? There's land enough\nhere, dear knows. Yes, let 'em all come; only they must leave whiskey\nbehind. I want this to be a temperance settlement.\" Then, after a\npause, \"But, Mary, I wonder if amongst them I'd find another like\nyou, my 'Blessing'?\" With this, he rose, and was about to throw his\narms round her neck, when he checked himself; then, after fumbling\na moment in his pocket, went out to where her shamrock was blooming,\nand, close by it, he put in the ground a pumpkin-seed. Happy were the\nJune days which followed. With what a light heart did Mary watch the\nyouth at work!\n\n\"He's a strange being,\" she would say; \"different from any I ever met\nin the Old Country. But, for all that, he is good; and when Father De\nSmet returns I'll have him baptized, and then there'll be no firmer\nCatholic than Nat Putnam.\"\n\nAnd the young man--how shall we describe his feelings as, hour after\nhour, he follows the plough?\n\n\"I'm making a home,\" he would say, \"for my 'Blessing.' How she leans\nupon me! If I were to die, what would become of her? She don't know\nenough to give lectures, like Miss Hopkins. Oh! if I could only mix\nher and Jemima together. Yet she's pretty handy at the needle, and\nsince she's overhauled my things I ain't lost a button. And yet my\nsuspenders, darn 'em, do give awful jerks once in a while.\"\n\nOne morning, while he was thus silently praising Mary's skill in\nthe art of sewing, he stopped, gave a groan, then, letting go the\nhandle of the plough, \"Wrong!\" he exclaimed. \"There goes one! Rip!\nwhew!\" and, as he spoke, he grabbed a button out of the furrow. For\nmore than a minute the youth examined it thoughtfully, turned it\nover and over, put it to his eye; then, with a grin, \"No,\" he said,\n\"Mary didn't sew this on; the thread sticking to it ain't the kind\nshe uses. Ah! Jemima Hopkins! Jemima Hopkins! 'tis some of your work.\nYes, I remember; 'twas just afore you started off lecturing, and when\nyour head was full of big words. O Jemima Hopkins!\"\n\nAnd so the summer passed away. The corn came up magnificently, and\nwhen it was in all its glory, with the west wind shaking the tassels,\nPutnam would call Mary out to admire it. \"It looks,\" he would say,\n\"like a regiment of militia on parade.\" The pumpkin-seed which he had\nplanted was now well above ground, and creeping slowly but steadily\nround and round the shamrock. Once the girl was tempted to pull the\nvine up, but, on reflection, it occurred to her that she had better\nnot. And she was right; for under its broad leaves her little plant\nfound shelter from the scorching rays of the sun; and when the\nthunder-storms burst over the prairie, the shamrock would have been\ncrushed by the great rain-drops, which fell thicker and faster than\never she had known them fall in Ireland, but for the same kindly\nprotector.\n\nOne evening, toward the middle of September, Nat came home from\nwork at an earlier hour than usual. He appeared troubled; there was\nevidently something on his mind; and, when the girl asked what was\nthe matter, he scratched his head, devoured her a moment with his\nsharp, gray eyes, then, turning on his heel, walked off to a log near\nthe door. There he seated himself, and, after musing awhile, beckoned\nher to approach.\n\nThe young woman obeyed, not, however, without some misgiving. \"Mr.\nPutnam,\" she thought, \"has got tired of living so long in one place,\nand is anxious to move further west. Alas!\"\n\nIn another moment she was seated near him and gazing anxiously in his\nface. He returned her look only for an instant, then coughed, and,\nrolling up his eyes, \"'Tis a solemn thing to do,\" he murmured. \"But I\ncan't help it, and wouldn't if I could. I've felt it coming over me\never since the day she persuaded me to write home to father. Jemima\nHopkins would grab at me like a sunfish at a worm in April if I gave\nher a chance; but this girl is so innocent-like that really I don't\nknow how to begin. And then her very dependence on me, the solitude\nof this spot, makes her kind of sacred, and I dread lest even words\nof purest love might give her offence.\"\n\n\"Well, Mr. Putnam,\" said Mary, interrupting his soliloquy, \"you're\nnot going to move away? Don't make my shamrock travel any further.\nSpeak! Oh! I feel so anxious.\"\n\nAt these words, Nat cleared his throat, cracked his knuckles, then,\nin a voice singularly agitated for one of his temperament, \"Mary,\" he\nbegan, \"I am never going to move from this spot. You are fond of it,\nand that's enough.\" At this unexpected announcement the girl clapped\nher hands. \"But,\" he went on, \"I am not contented; there is yet\nsomething wanting to make me perfectly happy.\"\n\n\"And, pray, what is it, sir? I know I am very green, but tell me if\nthe fault be mine; tell me, and I promise to do all I can to please\nyou.\"\n\n\"Well,\" he pursued, raising his hand and pointing at the pumpkin-vine\nwhich circled round the shamrock, \"do you see yonder plant almost\nhiding, and at the same time protecting, the smaller one?\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Well, now, Mary, suppose you be the shamrock, and let me be the\nvine?\"\n\nAs he spoke, he gazed earnestly at her. A faint blush crimsoned the\ngirl's cheek. She seemed a little startled; and when she replied,\n\"Yes, I will be your shamrock!\" it was in a voice low and scarce\nabove a whisper.\n\n\"Well done!\" cried Nat, tossing his hat in the air. \"Well done! As\nsoon as the priest comes, we'll have the knot tied.\"\n\nThat very evening, the missionary arrived, bringing Putnam news\nfrom home, which, although sad indeed, was yet not unmingled with\nconsolation. His father was dead, but the last words he had spoken\nwere words of forgiveness to the youth who had abandoned him in his\nold age. The Jesuit remained at the log-house almost a fortnight,\ninstructing the convert in the faith, and, before he departed, the\nlatter had the happiness of serving a Mass offered for the repose of\nhis father's soul.\n\n\"This never would have happened but for you, my 'Blessing,'\" said\nNat, pressing Mary's hand. \"Those who will follow me to this\nenchanting spot may laugh at my becoming a Catholic, but 'twill be\nbecause they are ignorant. Your religion has in it something sublime;\nit reaches across the grave, and, by our prayers, gives us a hold\nupon those who have gone before us. Father! father!\" Here his voice\nfailed, and for a minute or two he wept. At length, mastering his\ngrief, he turned to the priest and signified that he was ready for\nthe marriage ceremony to begin. It was short; but while it lasted,\na song-sparrow (the first the youth had heard since he arrived in\nIllinois) alighted upon the window-sill and piped a joyous carol.\nOften had he heard the bird at his home near the foot of Mount\nKearsarge, and now its sweet notes fell on his ear like the voice of\na spirit come all the way from the Saco Valley to wish him happiness\non his wedding-day.\n\nThat evening, he took his wife and the priest to visit the mound on\nthe hillside, and around it they knelt and offered a prayer for the\nunknown whose dust lay beneath.\n\nAs they sauntered back to the cabin, Putnam expressed a lively hope\nthat all his friends in New Hampshire would emigrate to the West.\n\"And when Jemima arrives,\" he said, closing one eye and looking at\nhis wife with the other, \"you'll see something worth seeing; for\nshe's awful smart, and when we get arguing together it's diamond cut\ndiamond. But I'll convert her; oh! I will.\"\n\n\"No doubt,\" rejoined Mrs. Putnam, \"the discussion will be animated\nand interesting, for you have a clear head and a ready tongue, while\nMiss Hopkins was born the year of the comet; but believe me, husband\ndear, it is praying, not arguing, brings into the fold those who are\nout of it.\"\n\n\"That must be so,\" he continued, \"for you never argued with me, and\nyet now I'm a Catholic. O happy day when Nat Putnam met Mary O'Brien!\nAnd while I will strive by every honest means to improve my worldly\ncondition, I will remain true to the faith. Illinois is a wilderness\nnow, but they're coming, Mary, they're coming; and, before your raven\nhair turns gray, a city will stand on this prairie; and opposite\nour corner-lot shall be a church with a cross upon it--a Catholic\nchurch. And 'twill be thanks to you, my 'Blessing;' yes, thanks to\nthe shamrock gone West.\"\n\n\n\n\nSAYINGS OF THE FATHERS OF THE DESERT.\n\n\nAn aged monk said to a brother who was tempted by evil spirits: When\nthe evil spirits begin to talk to thee in thy heart, do not reply to\nthem; but arise, pray, and do penance, saying: Son of God, have mercy\non me. But the brother said to him: Behold, O father, I do meditate,\nand there is no compunction in my heart, because I do not understand\nthe meaning of my words. And he replied: Yet do thou meditate; for\nI have heard that Abbot Pastor and other fathers have spoken this\nproverb: The charmer knows not the meaning of the words which he\nsays, but the serpent hears, and knows the virtue of the charm, and\nis humbled and subjected to the enchanter. So also with us, even\nthough we be ignorant of the meaning of what we say, yet the evil\nspirits, hearing, tremble and depart.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAbbot Pastor said: The beginning of evils is to distract the mind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAbbot Elias said: I fear three things. One, when my soul shall depart\nfrom the body; the second, when I shall come before God; the third,\nwhen sentence shall be pronounced upon me.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nArchbishop Theophilus, of holy memory, when he was about to die,\nsaid: Blessed art thou, Abbot Arsenius, because thou hast ever had\nthis hour before thy eyes.\n\n\n\n\nVESPERS.\n\n    [The term Vespers is derived from Vesper, the star that\n    appears toward sunset, the time appointed by ancient\n    usage for the recital of the Evening Song.--_Hierugia._]\n\n\n      Evening quiet overspreads the sky:\n      Vesper rises clear and liquidly.\n        Star of prayer! whose ray\n          Brings spirit-whispers,\n        Brings the saintly hour\n          Of holy vespers.\n\n      Not a bell, perchance, of prayerful cry,\n      Yet the pious foot comes mindfully!\n        O'er the flinty street,\n          Or daisied meadow,\n        Glides, from near or far,\n          The Christian shadow!\n\n      Evening quiet overspreads the soul:\n      Restful rites the restless pulse control.\n        Now the tuneful waves\n          Of organ tremble;\n        Now the tuneful prayers\n          God's choir resemble!\n\n      Words of ancient plaint, flung long ago\n      From a kingly harp's melodious throe;\n        Words to her, who oped\n          Of Christ the vision,\n        Gabriel words--still serve\n          Their music-mission!\n\n      Now the censer's aromatic breath\n      Wreathes th' abode of One who smiles on death!\n        Now the portals ope--\n          Ah! dread appearing!\n        Christian, veil thy glance,\n          A God revering!\n\n      --Changed to flesh and blood my daily food:\n      Changed the bread and wine to flesh and blood!\n        Yet, my God, forgive\n          If reason falter:\n        Faith, alone, sustains me\n          At thine altar!\n\n                                      RICHARD STORRS WILLIS.\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF SANTA RESTITUTA.\n\n\nIschia is one of the gems of the Bay of Naples, and fortunately one\nof the least known and least visited of the tourist-haunted island\ngroup.\n\nThe Monte Epomeo rises in its midst, a mass of tufa rock, perforated\nhere and there by _fumarole_, that is, openings through which\nvolcanic exhalations are constantly sending forth their thin blue\nthreads of hazy smoke to mingle with the blue and hazy atmosphere\nthat veils the whole island in a fairy and gossamer robe. Two or\nthree villages are built upon the low girdle of sand that lies at\nthe foot of the mountain; on one side of the island are ledges of\nrock where the vine grows, on the other is a projection, or rather\na separate rock, on which is built a state-prison. Only one road\npasses through Ischia, and no wheels ever leave their marks there,\nsave when a royal visitor brings a modern carriage with him. The\ninhabitants walk barefoot, and the strangers ride donkeys, or are\ncarried in open sedan-chairs, called \"portantine.\" The women lounge\nabout at their cottage-doors, spindle in hand, their heads curiously\nbound up in silken handkerchiefs, and their ears weighed down by huge\near-rings. There is a wonderful and unspeakable charm hanging over\nthe place; the beauties that elsewhere in Italy hardly surprise you,\nseem to hold you spell-bound here. The sea is now blue, now green,\nnow purple, always of an intense color, and seemingly an inverted\nfirmament, where the white fishing-smack sails stand for clouds,\nand the little silver-crested wavelets for stars. The air is very\npure, yet warm and balmy, and, when the storm visits the island,\neven the lightning must make itself more softly beautiful than\nelsewhere, for it is often seen in rose and violet colored flashes,\nmaking the heavens like to a vault of opal. The myrtle grows on the\nmountain-side, and the oleander blooms lower down, the vines climb\nfrom the water's edge to the roofs of the few rustic hotels the\nisland boasts, and among all these beauties are hidden springs of\nmedicinal water and hot sea-sands, all of them much used by Italians\nchiefly in the shape of baths. The sand-bath is a hole within four\nshanty-like plank walls, and the patient has himself buried in it up\nto his neck for the time prescribed.\n\nOf course, much is said to strangers concerning the beauty of the\nsunrise from the top of Epomeo. But, as usual, when you go to see\nthe sun, you find him behind sulky curtains of gray-white clouds\nthat roll like another sea between the blue unseen Mediterranean\nand the bright purple heaven above. Still, this, too, is beautiful,\nthough coldly so, and very unlike the lovely western sunrise over\nthe Atlantic. But the glory of Italy is in her sunsets, and toward\nevening sea and mountain, tufa rock and yellow sand, put on a\nmarvellous robe, a veritable \"coat of divers colors,\" and life seems\nto breathe and sigh in things that before seemed lifeless.\n\nIschia, like all Italian localities, has its patron saint; they call\nher _Santa Restituta_.\n\nWhen persecution was raging in Egypt, in the third century, says the\nsimple legend, the body of a young maiden, with a millstone tied\nround her neck, floated across the sea and rested in a creek on the\nsouth side of the island. The creek is called after the martyr to\nthis day, and above it are rocks whose black mass literally overhangs\nand roofs in part of the bay. Just where her body rested, in a\nsandy, barren place, lilies grew up and continued to bloom; they are\nthere now, and are very peculiar as well as very lovely, a sort of\ncross between the lily and the iris, with delicate pointed petals,\nfive in number, and a tall smooth stem with very little verdure.\nNot only do these flowers grow nowhere else in the island or out of\nit, but they will not even grow in a land of their own sandy soil\nif transplanted with a quantity of it elsewhere. The millstone that\nwas round the saint's neck is said to be embedded in a wall in the\nneighborhood of her church: there _is_ such a stone, whether the\nsame or not no one can tell. Later on, a church was erected over the\nremains of the martyr, and she was chosen patroness of the island. A\nvery curious Byzantine figure, gilt all over and nearly life-size,\nwas made in wood and placed over the altar. In one hand, she was\npictured as holding a book of the Gospels, and, in the other, a\nfull-rigged vessel. When the south of Italy was invested by Saracen\nhordes, Ischia did not escape pillage, and of course, judging the\nmost precious things to be in the church, as they always were in\nCatholic times, the marauders rushed to Santa Restituta's shrine, and\nattempted to carry off the golden statue, as they believed it to be.\nThe statue, naturally, was a movable one, and used to be carried in\nprocession on certain stated occasions. But now it remained rooted\nto the spot, and no effort of the stalwart infidels could move it a\nhair's-breadth from its pedestal. In rage and disappointment, one\nof them struck at it savagely with his scimetar, and a mark upon\nits knee still attests this outrage. The sacrilege was promptly\npunished, for the men themselves now found they were unable to\nmove, and remained invisibly chained at the foot of the miraculous\nimage. If they were released, the legend does not say; let us hope\nthat they were freed by faith, and that conversion followed this\nstrange sign. The statue remained immovable ever since, and another\nimage was made to be carried in procession, with the addition of\nthe miraculously riveted Saracens, in a small painted group on the\nsame stand as the figure itself. Whether the legend be absolutely\ntrue or only partly so, whether fact and figure be mixed together,\nand things spiritual typified under tangible forms, it is not for us\nto decide, but the simple faith of the happy islanders is certainly\nto be admired, and even to be envied. They have yearly rejoicings,\nfireworks, processions, songs, and services, and a military parade\nof what national guards they can muster, to celebrate their saint's\nanniversary; they are proud of her, and point out her statue and tell\nher history to strangers with the same enthusiasm with which soldiers\nspeak of a favorite general.\n\nAnd, if my surmise be true, they have had her celebrated in art by no\nless a painter than Paul de la Roche, whose \"Martyre\" is well known\nall over Europe as one of the chastest, truest, and most reverent as\nwell as most beautiful representations of martyrdom. He has painted\na fair maiden in a white robe, and her hands tied with a cruel rope\nin front. The long, golden hair is gently moved, like a strange and\nnew sea-weed, by the rippling water that flows over it; the cord cuts\ninto the flesh of the white, delicate hand, and the water seems\nreverently eager to pour its coolness into the wounds and to stay the\ncruel fever in them; the face is that of an angel that is looking\non the Father's countenance in highest heaven; a coronal of light\nrests, like a sun-touched cloud, just above her head, and in the dark\nbackground a large mass of overhanging rock, just like the rocks of\nIschia, frown down upon the sea-green bay, and shadows of muffled,\nlurking figures are seen watching the floating wonder from above.\n\nIf the painter had not Santa Restituta in his mind, the coincidence,\nat least, is curious. Yet it is true that so many blessed saints died\nthis death that he may have meant to portray a typical rather than\nan individual representation in this picture, which is one of his\nmasterpieces.\n\nThere is another floating figure, with golden hair and folded hands,\nwhich is more familiar to most people than this one, and, though the\ncomparison is strange, I cannot help introducing it here. I mean\nthe figure of Tennyson's _Elaine_, whom Gustave Dore has made his\nown in his unapproachable illustration of the _Idyls of the King_,\nbut whose history and especially whose death has been the source\nof many a painter's inspiration. I hardly know one more touching\nobject in all modern poetry, save that more solemn and more dignified\none that closes the idyl of _Guinevere_, and whose calm sublimity\nalmost touches the divine. But though the analogy of the \"Lily Maid\nof Astolat\" borne down the river to the oriel-windowed palace of\nArthur's Queen to that other lily maid, the virgin-martyr of Egypt,\nbe brought to mind by the likeness in both cases of the floating\nwaters and the unbound hair; yet here the analogy ends, for we see\nthat as far as heaven is from earth, so far are these two beautiful\nfigures removed one from the other. Both died for love, both died\npure; but the love of the one was such as, once quenched in death,\nwould never live again, for she would be \"even as the angels;\" while\nthe love of the other not only did death not quench, but would make\ntenfold more ardent, as she would \"follow the Lamb whithersoever he\ngoeth,\" and sing \"the new canticle\" no man could sing but those \"who\nwere purchased from the earth.\"\n\nTennyson's _Elaine_ is a figure of earth in earth's most sinless form\nand most innocent meaning, yet still earthly, still imperfect, still\nembodying the idea of man's natural weakness and inherent decay. Paul\nde la Roche's \"Martyre,\" or Ischia's Santa Restituta, is a figure of\nheaven, an already glorified soul, who, having conquered the flesh,\nthe world, and the devil, having offered her body to God \"a living\nsacrifice,\" and having \"put on immortality,\" has passed beyond our\nunderstanding and beyond our criticism into that region of bliss\nwhose very dimmest ray would be unbearable glare to our eyes, and the\nfull vision of which would bring a blessed and a painless death in\nits inevitable train.\n\nIt has been the fashion of our days to think lightly of legends and\ntraditions of saints, to ridicule their so-called _inventors_, and\npity their supposed _victims_. On the other hand, we see families\nclinging to certain versions of certain facts relative to their long\ndescent and the doughty deeds of their world-famed forefathers;\nwe see nations dwelling complacently on marvellous explanations\nconcerning their origin, and proudly pointing to distant feats of\nknightly prowess performed by northern Viking and Frank or Vandal\nchief; we see tradition already growing up like irrepressible vines\naround the memory of great men buried perchance but yesterday, and\neven around the persons of living men to whom the wheel of fortune\nor the rarer gift of genius has given a temporary prominence; and\nis it strange that Catholics should love to repeat similar legends\nconcerning _their_ forefathers, the founders of _their_ spiritual\nnation, _their_ forerunners in the kingdom of heaven? We, too, have\nin our faith a family pride, a national pride, and a pride born of\npersonal friendship and attachment for some of God's living saints,\nhis yet uncrowned champions. We are all one family, we all call to\nGod \"Abba,\" that is, Father; we are \"the sons of God\" and the \"joint\nheirs with Christ.\" We cannot help rejoicing over the glory of one of\nour brethren or sisters; we cannot help being proud of their virtues\nand seeking to perpetuate and honor their memory. We are all one\nnation, too, for there is but one Head, one Lord, one Christ; and in\nthe history of the saints we learn the history of the church, our\nstate, our country, our kingdom. And among _our_ great men, whom no\nwheel of fortune but the divine decree of Providence has lifted to\npre-eminence among us, and with whom, for the most part, holiness and\nhumility take the place of genius--is it strange we should single out\nsome of whom, having known them, we willingly speak and hear little\ndetails told, and treasure them up, and weave them into heart-poems\nfor our children's children? So grows tradition, and a mind that\nhas no place in it for tradition's evergreen vines to spread their\nbeautiful network is but a misshapen likeness of the mind that\nGod created in Adam, and endowed with sympathetic tenderness and\nappreciative discrimination.\n\nSome among us have had the happiness to be brought into contact with\nmen greatly favored by God. And who that had daily seen his humble,\nhidden convent-life, that sweet soul-poet and child-like priest,\nFrederick Faber, could fail to accumulate concerning him loving\ntraditions, and what our descendants may hereafter call fond and vain\nlegends? And who that had once heard the voice of Henry Newman, the\nleader of the school of thought of our days in the simple converse\nhe loves best, or in the plain instructions to his school-children\nat catechism, could help treasuring up such a recollection as more\nprecious by far than a token of royal friendship, or the memory of\nsome unexampled intercourse with state minister or powerful diplomat?\nThere are others who have lived or are living in the same cold,\nbeliefless days as ourselves, and whose presence, either tangible\nthrough personal acquaintance or reflected through their sermons or\ntheir books, is a perpetual fragrance, which we seek ever to keep\nalive in the garden of our hearts by heaping up and stowing away\nin our minds all manner of details belonging to their useful and\neveryday lives.\n\nPius IX. and Montalembert, and the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, and Father Ignatius\nSpencer, and the P\u00e8re de Ravignan; Lacordaire and the convert Jew,\nHermann, the musician and Carmelite who has but lately passed away,\nand will be remembered, let us trust, even as the Fra Angelico of the\nnineteenth century; Mother Seton and the S\u0153ur Rosalie; Thomas Grant,\nthe saintly Bishop of Southwark, who meekly laid down his burden in\nthe City of the Catacombs when his Lord called him from the Council\nof the Vatican to the foot of the throne; and Henry Manning, and\nJohn Hughes, and others yet whose names are known only to a few\nfriends on earth, but widely known among the hosts of heaven, sons of\nBenedict and daughters of Scholastica, all these are among the chosen\nones whose names cannot but be speedily wreathed in legendary and\ntraditional history. And even if it happens that some detail lovingly\ntold comes to be exaggerated, and have accessories linked to it by\nearnest--if indiscreet--zeal, shall that be accounted as a crime\nand a malicious distortion of truth? An error of love can be surely\nforgiven by mothers who are proud of their battle-stained sons; by\nchildren who worship the mother that taught them, and the father who\nguided and corrected them; by soldiers who tell round the camp-fire\nof the iron men who led them to victory, or who bore with them and\nfor them an equally glorious captivity and defeat; by sick men who\ndo not forget the \"Sister's\" care; by all, in a word, who have a\nheart wherewith to be grateful, a mind wherewith to admire, a memory\nwherewith to give honor.\n\nWhat is true of the saints of to-day is so, and was so from the\nbeginning, of the saints of long ages ago. And if their history has\ncome down to us woven of fact and legend both, it is thus only the\nmore historical to us, for it tells us the history of the church's\nlove for her glorified children, as well as the record of the real\nlife of those children themselves. Santa Restituta has thus led us\nfar from Ischia's scarcely known beauties and simple island shrine,\nbut she now leads us back to her own sanctuary by the thought here\nsuggested, that, even as many hidden saints walk among us now, so\nthere are many hidden nooks of the earth, like her sea-girt home,\nwhere faith is still the daily bread of the people, and where an\nalmost primeval innocence reigns under the protection of that happy,\nchildlike ignorance which, according to modern civilization, is the\nroot of all evil.\n\nHidden saints are like to these little inclosed gardens of faith;\ntheir hearts are valleys sequestered from the glare of the world's\nunbelief and the world's selfishness; their souls are as rock-bound\ncreeks where lilies grow and wavelets ripple over golden sands; with\nthem, too, the sunset of life is ever the most glorious hour, as it\nis with Ischia's myrtle-clad rocks and vine-crowned cottages.\n\nSanta Restituta, pray for us, and, if we are not worthy to be of the\nnumber of the saints ourselves, suffer us to be the historians, the\nbiographers, the poets of such saints as those who are known only\nby name in one remote corner of God's universe, or of such other\nsaints of whom glimpses are now and then revealed to us by the very\nsimplicity and utter unguardedness of their sweet and undefiled\nnature.\n\n\n\n\nA LETTER FROM THE PRESIDENT OF A COLLEGE.\n\n\n    [We have received and publish the following letter with\n    great pleasure, and it is to be hoped that others will\n    take up the same subject, and express their views upon\n    it. Perhaps we may even venture to suggest the project\n    of a convention or congress of heads of colleges under\n    the auspices of the prelates, in order to discuss and\n    resolve on useful measures connected with Catholic\n    education.]\n\nDEAR MR. WORLD:\n\nYou have a talent for evoking thought. The excellent paper on higher\neducation, which you published in your issue for March, has set me\na-thinking; and as I hold you to be a wise counsellor, I hope you\nwill allow me to communicate my poor thoughts to you. I want to talk\nto you about some of the difficulties of Catholic education in the\nUnited States.\n\nBy the way, the subject of your article was working at the same\ntime in several minds. I read in the _Galaxy_ for March a long\ndissertation, full of idolatry for Germany, on higher education; and\nthe students of St. John's College, Fordham, New York, celebrated\nWashington's birthday by a series of splendid speeches on the same\ntheme. Would you, Mr. WORLD, feel complimented if I should exclaim,\n\"Les beaux esprits se rencontrent\"?\n\nWell, then, in the matter of college education--for that is what I\nhave been thinking on--as in a multitude of other matters, Catholics\nin this country owe eternal gratitude to their clergy. If we have\nany colleges at all, to whom do we owe them? To the zeal and\nself-sacrifice of our Christian Brothers, of our priests and our\nbishops. I think that all our colleges were established by churchmen,\nwhether secular or regular. It were, perhaps, invidious to mention\nnames--but we ought not to withhold a deserved and willing tribute of\npraise from the heroic men who gave us our colleges. We say heroic,\nfor these men were truly such. Lengthy reflection is not necessary\nin order to justify the epithet. What a mountain of obstacles had\nto be cleared away to purchase the site of these colleges, to build\nthem, to man them, to govern and carry them on! Education is a noble\nand fertile subject to speak about. It is an immense blessing to\nbe really educated. But what an amount of toil and anxiety does\nnot this delicious fruit cost those who seek to bestow it on our\nchildren! How many harassing days and nights have not the faithful\nsuperior, professors, and prefects of a college to spend in the\nexercise of their several functions! All the world knows that boys\nare not a very inviting material to work on. They are unreasoning,\nungrateful, thoughtless, inconstant; often weak, lazy, perverse, and\nincorrigible. Many of them act in college as though they went there\nto torment everybody--or, at most, for the benefit of the officers,\nand not at all for their own good. Of course, if boys were merely to\nbe taught lessons, much of the trouble connected with their education\ncould be avoided. But Catholic colleges mast make moral men and\nChristians--and that, as we all know, is a difficult task, for the\nyoung heart is very wayward. Then, too, what heartburns with fathers\nand mothers and guardians! How little pecuniary compensation for the\neducator! Yet our clergy, be it said to their undying honor, have\nnobly braved, outfaced, all these privations and humiliations. They\nare doing so even at this day. Let them refuse to sacrifice their\ntime, talents, health, and temporal weal, and we ask whether there is\nin the United States a single Catholic college which would not have\nto suspend operation to-morrow? We must remember that our colleges\nare not endowed. In a financial point of view, they depend almost\nentirely on the fees of their students. Commonly, too, they have more\nor less of standing debts, for which yearly interest must be paid.\nWere the presidents, professors, and prefects of such houses to exact\nfat salaries in return for their sublime abnegation, what, Catholic\nAmericans, would be the fate of all your colleges? Do you often think\nof this when, amid the ease and luxury of your drawing-rooms and\ndinner-tables, you run down this college, sneer at that other, and\nwonder why a third does not do this, that, and the other thing in\nthe shape of improvement? You have colleges because your clergy are\nwilling to sacrifice their time and tastes, to submit to drudgery, to\nwear out their very lives, and live and die in poverty. All praise to\nyou, Catholic priests and bishops, to you religious orders of these\nUnited States.\n\nThese remarks go to prove that our first difficulty in the walks of\nhigher education is the slender means of our colleges.\n\nIn the next place, it appears to your unworthy correspondent\nthat very little is done to put an end to this precarious and\nfrom-hand-to-mouth existence. What generosity does the laity show to\nour colleges? People contribute munificently to convents, asylums,\nchurches, etc.; but how many make donations to colleges; how many\nfound prizes, medals, or scholarships in them? Very few, at least\nso far as my knowledge goes. Colleges, like poor bears in winter,\nare supposed to live on their own fat. No one asks them whether they\nare in debt, in need of money, would not accept of a collection of\nbooks, minerals, philosophical apparatus, or anything of that kind.\nNo one says: Wouldn't you allow me to build you a good gymnasium,\nan exhibition hall, give you an organ for your chapel, or transfer\nto you some of my shares in this or that lucrative business? No,\ndear colleges, be comforted. Live on as best you can. The result\nis that these institutions can never fully shake off their debt,\nthey can make but little material improvement, or, if they attempt\nimprovements, it must be at a snail's pace. Even graduates will\nforget the wants of Alma Mater, and despise her for her blameless\npenury, just as some gross-natured upstarts scorn their poor parents\nand friends. What a different spectacle we should soon witness in our\ncolleges were gentlemen of means to show their zeal for education,\nand follow the wholesome example of Protestants by bestowing upon\nour seats of learning a portion of their wealth! Progress would then\nbe possible, college bills could be lightened entirely or at least\npartially, gratuitous education might be granted to deserving young\nmen. As things now stand, charity is out of the question for most of\nour colleges. We must endeavor to beget and promote in our people\nthis enlightened and patriotic spirit toward our colleges.\n\nDifficulty number three: Many persons take a narrow view of\neducation. Some act upon what may be called the system of the three\nR's, that is readin', 'ritin', and 'rithmetic. They fancy their sons\neducated when they can read, write, and cast up accounts. Others may\nraise their eyes a little higher, but in the end, like the old Romans\nlaughed at by Horace, they value education only in so far forth as\nit is a money-making machine. Few are broad-minded enough to see\nin education a development of the entire man, and, as a necessary\ninference, a slow and gradual process. In consequence of the errors\nafloat on this head, parents will not allow time sufficient for the\neducation of their children. They force colleges to crowd an immense\ncircle of studies into a short space. The consequences are not\nflattering. The mind cannot be thoroughly developed, and education\ndegenerates into ill-digested instruction. Depth is lost. Your paper,\nwhich led me to think upon all these topics, speaks very sensibly\nabout philosophy. But how, I ask, can anything like a deep, serious,\nthorough course of philosophy be taught in one year? Still, that is\nall our young men get, and that is all the generality of parents\nwill concede. Look at our colleges--how many graduates of the first\nyear return to study a second? Were it not better to give no degree\nuntil the close of the second year? The diploma once obtained,\nthough it is only a cowardly sheep-skin, fills our young graduates\nwith valor, and makes them fancy that they are fit to play roaring\nlion all the country over. Every college should devote at least two\nyears of its course to the study of philosophy. Education without\na sound philosophy must always be a mere broken shaft, a truncate\ncone, an abortion. We ought to organize a crusade for the welfare of\nphilosophy in our colleges. I was right glad, Mr. WORLD, to hear\nyou advocating the study of this crowning branch of education, and\ninsisting, I think, upon sound scholasticism. Scholastic philosophy,\nthat is the philosophy.\n\nMy next difficulty shall be proposed in the form of a question: Could\nnot our Catholic colleges come to an understanding, so as to have\nin all of them about the same programme and the same text-books?\nAt present, there is a very great divergence on these points. For\ninstance, what a multitude of grammars we have, and what wretched\nthings for boys some of these grammars are! They lack method and\nlogic, they dive too deep into philosophy, and are too learned and\nphilosophical. Banish philosophy and philology to their proper\nspheres. When grammars of the dead languages were much more modest\nand unpretending, Latin and Greek were better known, better written,\nif not also better spoken. What I say of grammars applies with equal\nforce to many other books now used in our colleges. A convention of\nour college authorities for the discussion of these topics might do\nas much good as many other conventions, if not far more.\n\nParents and guardians have a great share in the troubles experienced\nby colleges. Nowadays, boys decide almost everything with respect\nto their education. It is they who make choice of their college,\ndetermine whether they shall study, how long and what they shall\nstudy. All that parents seem to have to say or do in the matter is\nto obey their whimsical offspring. I can understand that there is\nno use in forcing a lad to study what he reasonably cannot learn;\nbut I cannot see why the management of his education should be given\nover to him in fee-simple. This violation of the fourth commandment\nthrows honest colleges into a dilemma. On the one hand, they would\nlike to keep their students, and, on the other, they feel bound\nto make those students work. But the young lord of his destinies\noften does not wish to study, and, if he is urged to do so, he\ngrows dissatisfied, says the officers are too cross, and leaves the\ninstitution. Should he not be urged, he will idle away his time,\nannoy everybody, learn nothing, and finally, by his ignorance and\nbad conduct, injure the reputation of his college. Parents, when\nthey send their sons to college, should not forget that these sons\nare not immaculately perfect. They need a strong dose of discipline.\nThey must be taught by word and deed that they have to study and\nto obey. The word of college authorities should weigh more in the\nbalance than that of weak, lazy, and roystering young lads. If these\nideas prevailed somewhat more than they do, and were acted up to,\ncolleges would have an easier task to perform, their task would be\nbetter performed, and the education given to boys would be more\nvigorous. There is too much womanish fondness, too much indulgence,\nshown to boys in these days. We live in an age of feeling, of likes\nand dislikes. Energetic, self-controlling, strong manhood is on the\nwane. Magnificent men could be made out of our American boys. I love\nthem dearly. Their character is full of fine traits. They are clever,\ngenerous, open, and manly. Why should they be emasculated by false\nkindness and compliance?\n\nOnce in college, let us subject these boys to solid and stiff\nexaminations. Those who fail, if they are in the graduating class,\nshould not graduate that year, no matter what great man or great\nwoman may intercede, scold, or shed tears in their behalf. No\n_pr\u00e6determinatio physica_ should settle on the gentlemen of the\ngraduating class. Because they happen to be in that class, their\ngraduation must not become a fated necessity. No doubt, it is a very\nnice sight at the close of the year, on the annual commencement day,\nto behold a large number of young gentlemen receiving their diplomas.\nThe heart of Alma Mater throbs with gladness at the beautiful\nspectacle. But it is a much nicer thing for Alma Mater to have to\nsay that her diploma is deserved, and that she tells no lie to the\npublic when she asserts that her graduate is _bon\u00e6 spei et rite\nprobatus_. Then the diploma is a testimony to worth: it is an honor\nto possess it. If undergraduates miss their examination, put them\ndown mercilessly into the class below that in which they fail. By\nthis process you will lose a few boys, but you need not regret them.\nFor, first, they were either idlers or stupid fellows. In the next\nplace, you can raise the standard of your classes, you will make your\npupils work seriously, get a good name for your college, and end by\nhaving more students. Sensible people will always send their children\nto institutions that insist upon hard study and rid themselves of\nidlers.\n\nAnother difficulty which I must notice regards the action, or\nrather inaction, of the state. It is a pity that our government,\nwith all its fuss about education, does so little real honor to\nhigher education. What is the necessity or emolument of a diploma\nfrom a college? I think that, without a diploma, I can occupy any\nposition in the gift of the country, save perhaps that of officer\nin the regular army or navy. In one way, the state is too much of a\nbusybody; in another, it does not fulfil its office in regard to\neducation. But I do not wish to open the question, to-day, on the\noffice of the state in education.\n\nOne of the gravest obstacles in the way of higher education arises,\nI think, from our colleges themselves. It is this: our colleges are\ntoo numerous. With the exception of some boys from Spanish America,\nwe receive no pupils from other countries. At home, the number of\nCatholics who can afford a college education for their children\nis limited. Supposing, then, all our colleges patronized, it is\nimpossible that any of them should reach a respectable figure in the\nnumber of its attending pupils. Besides, it must be no easy task to\nfind competent professors and directors for so many colleges. If we\nhad fewer colleges, each one would have a larger number of pupils,\nand be more fully provided with all that is necessary for education.\nYet there appears to be a stronger desire to open new colleges than\nto perfect those actually in existence. Why do we thus weaken and\nscatter our forces? Why do we render success and large, grand centres\nof learning next to impossible? Grammar-schools, or schools in\nwhich boys are prepared for college, should be multiplied, but not\ncolleges. Then our colleges would resemble a university more than\nthey do to-day. It is a great plague for them to be obliged to do\nat once the work of the grammar-school and of the college properly\nso-called. They are burdened with a crowd of children, who are no\ncompanions for young men, and lessen the dignity of a college. And\nnow, Mr. WORLD, let me end these remarks by asking: When shall we see\neach diocese in the Union possessing a _petit s\u00e9minaire_? When shall\nwe see arise in our midst a noble Catholic university?\n\n      Yours, etc.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    ROME AND GENEVA. Translated from the French. With an\n    introduction by M. J. Spalding, D.D., Archbishop of\n    Baltimore. 8vo. Pamphlet. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co.\n\nWe always knew that the Archbishop of Baltimore is an able writer\nof the more solid kind of essays, but were not before aware how\ngracefully he can use his pen in description. In his preface to the\npamphlet whose title is given above, he draws a very pretty and\ngraphic picture of Geneva, the ancient headquarters of Calvin, and\nin right, though not in possession, the See of St. Francis of Sales.\nSome interesting, curious, and gratifying facts in connection with\nthat city are mentioned by the archbishop. He tells us that half\nthe population of the city and canton is Catholic, and of the other\nhalf only one-tenth is Calvinistic. John Calvin's house is a convent\nof Sisters of Charity. The gloomy heretiarch and his companions are\nunhonored and almost unknown in the city which was once called the\nRome of Protestantism, but which is now a sort of temporary centre\nof Catholic activity in Europe, while the Holy City is desecrated\nby the rule of the Lombard usurper. The pamphlet itself is a letter\naddressed by a young law-student of Geneva to our old friend the\neminent romance-writer, Merle d'Aubign\u00e9 and one of his _confr\u00eares_,\nboth of whom, it appears, seized the occasion of the absence of\nthe bishop at the Council to make a feeble assault on the church.\nIt is a manly, sensible letter, more interesting as a specimen of\nwhat a young student can achieve in a polemical combat with veteran\nantagonists than from anything new or peculiar in its arguments.\nThe youthful champion uses his sling and pebble with skill and\ndexterity, although he had not so hard a skull as that of Goliath of\nGath to crack. Our young gentlemen who are training for professional\nlife ought to be interested to see how he does it, and the noble,\nchivalrous spirit of faith and honor which is manifest in the letter\nis one we desire to see extended as much as possible among these\ngenerous youth who are able to do as much for the cause of truth.\n\n\n    THE SYMPATHY OF RELIGIONS. An address delivered at\n    Horticultural Hall, Boston, February 6, 1870. By Thomas\n    Wentworth Higginson.\n\n\"Our true religious life begins when we discover that there is an\ninner light, not infallible, but invaluable, which lighteth every man\nthat cometh into the world. Then we have something to steer by, and\nit is chiefly this, and not any anchor, that we need.\" These are the\ntwo opening sentences of the above lecture. If an \"inner light, not\ninfallible\" is all that our author has \"to steer by,\" we beg, for\nour part, not to enter on board the ship of which he is the captain.\nIn this case, it is not the \"inner light, not infallible\" that is\ninvaluable, but the anchor, unless one would foolishly expose himself\nto certain shipwreck.\n\nIf this be man's plight, then let him keep silence until he finds\nsomething that will give him certitude. For what else can an erring\nguide lead to than error? It is the blind leading the blind into the\nditch.\n\nThink, too, of the absurdity of the author's pretensions, with such\na guide, to criticise all religions in order to give to the world\n\"_the_ religion\"!--\"the religion of all ages!\"\n\nThese free-religionists who talk so much about the value of reason\nhave yet to learn its true value and the great dignity of the human\nsoul. If the author's premise be true, it is an insult to our common\nsense to read his lecture.\n\n\n    THE HAPPINESS OF HEAVEN. By a Father of the Society of\n    Jesus. 1 vol. 16mo, pp. 372. Baltimore: John Murphy &\n    Co. 1871.\n\nWe might perhaps appropriately designate this work as \"The Popular\nTheology of Heaven:\" _theology_, because it is strictly accurate in\nits dogmatic teaching; _popular_, because the whole subject, without\nbeing lowered, is brought within the sphere of the popular mind. We\nmight call it also the \"Spiritual Geography of Heaven,\" since it\ngives us such a knowledge as we can have at this distance of the\npromised land which we must hope one day to inhabit. We are told what\nis that beatific or happy-making vision of God which is the essential\nbliss of the elect; what is the light of glory by means of which the\nsoul sees God; what are the occupations of heaven, the social joys\nof the blessed; the qualities and enjoyments of the glorified body\nand senses; the degrees of beatitude, yet the complete and satiating\nhappiness of each individual, without envy or jealousy, without\nregret of the past or fear for the future. The book presents an\nelegant appearance, and is brought out in Messrs. Murphy & Co.'s best\nstyle.\n\n\n    DE DOMINI NOSTRI JESU CHRISTI DIVINITATE. 3 vols.\n    Turin: Marietti. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1870.\n\nTo the many excellent volumes which Father Perrone has contributed\nduring his long career to the theological library, he has now made in\nthe work before us an addition in no way inferior to his previous\nwritings. It is a work addressed to the learned alone, and in the\nlanguage of the learned; but it is one which they will prize very\nhighly, not only for its depth of theological lore, but also for its\npeculiar fitness to the present time. Its subject is the fundamental\ndogma of Christianity--now so much attacked and, we may add, outside\nof the Catholic Church so little believed--the Divinity of Jesus\nChrist, which it proves and defends against the infidels, the\nrationalists, and the mythics of our day.\n\nIn the first volume, we have the proofs drawn from the pages of the\nOld Testament; in the second, those furnished by the New Testament.\nThe third volume establishes the Divinity of Christ on evidence drawn\nfrom the institution of the church, and, in particular, from the\ninstitution of the Roman Pontificate. The author demonstrates how\nthe promises made by the Redeemer to his church, the characteristic\nmarks by which he distinguished her, the gifts with which he enriched\nher, give evidence of a Divine Author and Founder. A most convincing\nargument springs from the Primacy conferred on St. Peter and his\nsuccessors in the See of Rome, since God alone could have established\nand maintained throughout the ages and the nations of the earth so\nexalted a dignity, together with the prerogatives which befit its\npossessor.\n\nOf all the works produced in our day on this important subject, Fr.\nPerrone's is without doubt the most satisfactory, because the most\nforcible, learned, and exhaustive.\n\n\n    THE SPIRITUAL DOCTRINE OF F. LOUIS LALLEMANT, S.J.\n    Preceded by some Account of his Life. Translated from\n    the French. Edited by F. W. Faber, D.D. New Edition.\n    London: Burns, Oates & Co. For sale by the Catholic\n    Publication Society, 9 Warren Street, New York.\n\nF. Lallemant was one of the brightest lights of the Society of\nJesus, and occupies in French spiritual literature a place analogous\nto that of F. Alvarez in the Spanish. This book, of which a new\nedition has been lately published, is now well known in England\nand the United States through the translation which was brought\nout under the auspices of F. Faber. It ranks among the best of\nmodern times, and even deserves to be classed with the works of\nthe celebrated authors of past ages. The pietistic mystics among\nthe Protestants, and even some Catholics, prepossessed by certain\nunfounded prejudices, have accused the Jesuits as the enemies of\ninterior spiritual piety. There was never a more unfounded charge.\nThe present work is one signal proof, among many others, that strict\northodoxy in doctrine, unswerving fidelity to the teaching of the\nRoman Church, and accurate theological science, so far from having\nquenched spirituality in the Society of Jesus, have only given it\npurity and illumination. The writings of the thoroughly orthodox\nmasters of the spiritual life are, beyond all comparison, superior,\nin respect to their insight into the mysteries of faith and their\nknowledge of the higher paths of the ascent toward union with God, to\nany of those who have fancied themselves illuminated with a private\nand personal light of the Holy Spirit, which they have thought\nshould supersede the infallible teaching of the church. F. Lallemant\nis specially remarkable for his skill and accuracy in pointing out\nthe perfect harmony which must always exist between the genuine\ninterior guidance of the Holy Spirit in the soul and the exterior,\ndivinely-appointed, infallible guidance of authority to which it\nmust always be subordinate. The _Spiritual Doctrine_ is orthodox\nand precise in its teaching without being dull or dry; fervent and\nspiritual without any tinge of vague or visionary enthusiasm; clear,\njudicious, and practical in its treatment of every topic; void\nof all wordy declamation and vapid sentimentalism; addressing the\nwill and the heart through the intellect; clothing the thoughts and\nfeeling of a saint in the style and language of a scholar. It is just\nthe book for the more intellectual and educated class of readers,\nprovided they have some desire for solid Christian virtue and piety.\n\n\n    THE ROMANCE OF THE CHARTER OAK. By William Seton. 2\n    vols. 12mo. New York: P. O'Shea. 1871.\n\nTo weave into a story interesting incidents of colonial life in the\nstate of Connecticut, during the reign of James II. of England,\nis the intention of these two volumes. The delineation of that\nremarkable incident in Connecticut history, the seizing of the state\ncharter from under the very eyes of the British authorities, and its\nsecretion for many years in the famous Charter Oak, and the picture\nof the regicide Goffe living in perpetual fear of detection are well\ndrawn.\n\nThe story in some respects shows a pen not yet perfectly at home in\nthis kind of writing; but no one who takes an interest in our early\ncolonial history can fail to find in reading these volumes both\npleasure and much useful historical information.\n\n\n    FAMILIAR DISCOURSES TO THE YOUNG. Preceded by an\n    Address to Parents. By a Catholic Priest. 1 vol. 18mo.\n    New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren\n    Street. 1871.\n\nThe reproduction, in America, of this work, originally written in\nIreland, will prove to be a benefaction in many a homestead. This is\nthe work of a man who thoroughly knows his subject. It is a book for\nthe time, free alike from the doubtful stories of too many writings\nof the same kind and the tedious dryness that meets the youthful eye\nin most books of instruction. We wish a hearty God-speed to this\nvaluable accession to our English Catholic literature. No Catholic\nfamily in the land should be without a copy of this book. It will be\nworth more than its weight in gold to those who read it; and to those\nwho practise the lessons of wisdom it contains it will be their glory\non earth and their crown in heaven.\n\nIt is a book that ought to be encouraged on missions and by all\npriests having charge of congregations.\n\n\n    THE COUNTESS OF GLOSSWOOD. A Tale. Translated from the\n    French. 1 vol. 16mo. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1871.\n\nWe have here a touching but 'ower sad' tale of the life of a Scotch\nCovenanter who, being found in arms against his king Charles II., is\ncondemned to death, but has his sentence changed by the interposition\nof a friend to a life of hard labor in the Cornish mines. His wife,\nthe Countess of Glosswood, will not leave her husband, but with her\ninfant daughter follows his hard fortune, all communication with\nthe world outside of mining life being forbidden by his sentence.\nBut the good God, in compensation for their desolate lives, sends\nthem the priceless gift of faith, through the instrumentality of\na Catholic priest, disguised as a miner that he may win souls for\nChrist, in times when to be known as a priest was to give one's\nself up to certain death. The countess had been taught to regard\nthe Catholic Church with hatred and terror, and the agony of mind\nthrough which she must pass in learning to love what she had before\nhated is forcibly described; and the gentle way in which she is led\nstep by step toward the light by the devoted priest cannot fail to\ngive satisfaction to the earnest reader. The doctrine of indulgences\nwas, of course, a terrible stumbling-block in her way, and Father\nDeymand's explanation is specially clear and convincing. The book\ncomes to us in an attractive dress, with tinted paper and good type.\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 75.--JUNE, 1871.[45]\n\nSARDINIA AND THE HOLY FATHER.[46]\n\n\nThe volume giving the call and proceedings of the meeting held last\nJanuary at the Academy of Music, in this city, in celebration of\nItalian unity, especially the occupation of Rome and the suppression\nof the Papal government, is handsomely printed, and does credit\nto the taste and skill of our New York book-makers; but it is\na sad book, and almost makes one despair of civil society and\nnatural morality. Nothing can be more sad and discouraging to all\nright-minded men than to see a large number of the most distinguished\nand influential men of a great nation-statesmen, politicians, judges,\nlawyers, officers of the army, ministers of religion, journalists,\npoets, philosophers, scholars, professors and presidents of colleges\nand universities--assisting, by their presence, addresses, letters,\nor comments, to applaud events notoriously brought about by fraud,\ncraft, lying, calumny, and armed force, in contravention of every\nprinciple of international law and of public and private right. It\nis a sad thing for our republic when so many of its representative\nmen, whose names are recorded in this volume, can endorse the fraud\nand violence by which the Sard king has effected what he calls the\nunity of Italy, and congratulate him on his successful sacrilege\nand spoliation in the Roman state; and the only consolation left us\nis that, with a solitary exception, no Catholic name appears on the\nlist, and all the sympathizers are Protestants, and all, or nearly\nall, prominent adherents of the same dominant political party.\n\nTo the unity of Italy, under some circumstances, we might not\nseriously object. It is true, we hold small states are more favorable\nto the growth of intelligence, the development of elevated and strong\npersonal character, to individual liberty, to social well-being, to\nthe moral progress of the people, than huge centralized states or\nempires, which can be governed only despotically, and in which there\nis so great a distance between power and the people that personal\nand affectionate relations between the governors and the governed,\nand which do so much to soften the asperities of authority and to\nrender obedience willing and cheerful, are, for the most part,\nimpracticable. But if the several independent Italian states that\nhave been absorbed by Sardinia to form the new kingdom of Italy had\nfreely and of their own accord given their consent to the absorption,\nand no craft, fraud, violence, or disregard of public or private\nright had been resorted to in order to effect it, we might doubt its\nwisdom, but we could not object to it on the ground of international\nlaw or of natural justice. We, of course, defend the temporal\nsovereignty of the Pope; but if the Pope had, _motu proprio_, without\ncoercion, the show or the threat of coercion, given his consent\nto the absorption of the Roman state in a united Italy, we should\nhave nothing to say against it, for it would have been the act of\nthe Roman state, no public or private right of justice or morality\nwould have been violated, and no blow struck at the equal rights of\nindependent states or nations, at the authority of the sovereign\npower of a state to govern it, or to the duty of obedience to it.\n\nBut it is well known that such is not the case either with the\nHoly Father or the several other Italian sovereigns that have been\ndispossessed and their states absorbed by Sardinia in order to\neffect Italian unity. In every case, the absorption was effected\nby violence and force, without and against the consent of the\nsovereign authority. The Pope refused his assent to the absorption\nof the ecclesiastical state, and said, to the demand to surrender\nit, \"_Non possumus_.\" The Roman people, without the Pope, gave no\nassent--had no assent to give or to withhold; for, without the Pope,\nthey were not a state or a sovereign people. It matters not whether\nplebiscitums can or cannot be alleged, for a plebiscitum, where there\nis a legitimate government, cannot be taken without its authority,\nespecially not against its authority; for without its authority it\nwould be a legal nullity, and against it it would be revolutionary\nand criminal. Nor would it help the matter for the absorbing state\nto invade with its armies the state to be absorbed, overthrow the\nlegitimate government, take forcible possession of the territory,\nand then call upon the population to decide their future condition\nby a plebiscitum, so long as a legitimate claimant to the government\nremains living. This was the case in the Roman state and in the other\nindependent Italian states that have been absorbed. As a plebiscitum\nbefore the conquest is treasonable and not permissible, after the\nconquest it is a mockery, for the fate of the state is decided,\nhowever the population may vote.\n\nLet us look the facts in the face, and see by what deeds and on\nwhat principles the unity of Italy has been effected. Sardinia,\naided by France and Prussia, made an unprovoked war on Austria, and\nwrested from her the Lombardo-Venetian kingdom, and appropriated it\nto herself. Neither she nor her allies had any just cause of war\nagainst Austria, or even of offence, except that sire wanted to get\npossession of all Italy. France wanted the left branch of the Rhine\nfor her boundary, and Prussia wanted to absorb the rest of Germany.\nThere was no other reason for the war. The several independent Ducal\nstates fell with Austria, with whom they were closely allied, and\nwere invaded and taken possession of by the Sard king. The Kingdom\nof the Two Sicilies was invaded by Garibaldi and his filibusters,\nbacked--covertly at first, openly at last--by the Sard government,\nconquered, because the Neapolitan king listened to the insidious\nadvice and deceitful promises of Imperial France, said to have been\ngiven not to offer any serious resistance, taken possession of and\nappropriated as the highwayman appropriates the traveller's purse.\nThe \u00c6milian provinces of the Roman state, prepared for insurrection\nby the secret societies and Sardinian emissaries, were invaded by the\nSardinian forces and appropriated by the House of Savoy. Finally, the\nRoman state was invaded by the same Victor Emmanuel, with too strong\na force for the Papal government to resist, its sovereign declared\ndeposed, its government suppressed, and its territory and people\nannexed to the so-called kingdom of Italy.\n\nThis simple recital of facts tells the whole story. Sardinia, aided\nby the arms and diplomacy of France and Prussia, by the foreign\npolicy of the Whigs and Radicals of Great Britain, the intrigues of\nthe secret societies, the money and co-operation of the Protestant\npropaganda, the malcontents and malefactors of all the states of\nItaly, and adventurers and miscreants from all nations of the earth,\nhas succeeded, without any right, without having received any offence\nor provocation, in the violation of every principle of international\nlaw and every precept of morality or natural justice, in absorbing\nevery Italian state, and effecting the unification of the whole\npeninsula under her own royal house. These are the facts, stated in\ntheir simplest form, without passion and without exaggeration.\n\nThese facts, being public and notorious, must be as well known to\nthose distinguished American sympathizers who addressed the meeting\nor wrote letters of approval to the committee that called it as they\nare to us. We dare not so insult the intelligence of such eminent\nmen as to suppose, for a moment, that they did not know what they\nsympathized with, or that, in applauding the unity of Italy, they\nwere ignorant of the craft, violence, and robbery that had been\nresorted to in order to effect it. What, then, must we and all\nright-minded men think of their own principles, of their religion,\ntheir politics, or their sense of justice? Does their Protestantism\nor their hatred of the Papacy justify, approve the violation of\ninternational law, the equal rights of sovereign states, the sacred\nrights of property, public and private, the principles of natural\njustice the basis of the state and of all legitimate authority,\nwithout which not even natural society itself can subsist? Does it\nauthorize them to applaud unprovoked war and conquest, and public\nand private robbery? If so, how can they justify their Protestantism\nor their hatred of the Papacy? If they cannot assert either without\ndenying all public and private right and trampling on all laws, human\nand divine, how can they regard either as defensible?\n\nThere is no mistaking the real character of the acts by which the\nsovereign states of Italy have been suppressed by Sardinia and her\nallies, and the present unification of Italy effected; and it only\nadds to their atrocity that it was done in part by exciting the\npopulations, or a portion of them, to insurrection and rebellion\nagainst their respective sovereigns. There is nothing meaner or more\nunjustifiable than for one sovereign to tamper with the fidelity\nof the subjects of another, especially in time of profound peace\nbetween the two states. If persisted in, it is a justifiable\ncause of war. International law, or the law of nations, makes all\nsovereign states equal in their rights, without regard to the form of\ngovernment, size, race, language, or geographical position; and the\nlaw of ethics, at least, requires each sovereign state to respect,\nand to cause its subjects to respect, the authority of every other\nsovereign state over its own subjects, as it requires every other\nto respect its authority over its subjects. The rule is, no doubt,\noften violated, but it is none the less sacred and binding on that\naccount. It is equally wrong for the citizens of one state to attempt\nto seduce the citizens of another state from their allegiance.\nInternational law, national law, municipal law, as well as the moral\nlaw, know nothing of the doctrine, so eloquently preached by the\nex-Governor of Hungary, of \"the solidarity of peoples.\"\n\nHon. Richard H. Dana, Jr., an able lawyer, reputed to be well versed\nin the law of nations, and who affects, in his elaborate letter\nto the committee, to argue the question as it affects Catholics\nwith fairness and candor, appears to have some doubts whether the\ninvasion of the Roman state by the Sardinian troops, the deposition\nand virtual imprisonment of its sovereign in his own palace, and\nthe annexation of its territory and inhabitants to the dominion of\nthe House of Savoy, is really a violation of international law; but\nhe evidently, besides arguing the question on a collateral issue,\ntakes a juridical instead of an ethical view of international\nlaw, and considers it only so far as it enters into the national\njurisprudence, and is enforcible by the nation through its own\ncourts on its own citizens. Yet he cannot be ignorant that there are\nviolations of international law which cannot be taken cognizance\nof by the national jurisprudence, and which may be, and often\nare, justifiable causes of war. The basis of international law is\nthe law of justice, or _droit naturel_, as it is the basis of all\nnatural ethics. There may be treaty or conventional agreements\nbetween nations, which must be considered whenever the case comes\nup juridically, or the law is to be juridically enforced, but these\ncannot abrogate or modify the law of justice, the _jus gentium_\nof the Roman jurists, which is the principle and foundation of\nall law. Acts in contravention of justice, St. Augustine and St.\nThomas after him tell us, are violences rather than laws, and are\nnullities. International law applies justice to the mutual relations\nof sovereign states, precisely as ethics does to the relations of\nindividuals. It declares all sovereign states equal in their rights,\nthe territory of each to be sacred and inviolable, and that no one\nis permitted to do to another what it would not have another to do\nto it. The rule is plain and practicable, and under it Mr. Dana's\ndoubts ought to vanish. For one sovereign state to invade with its\narmies another, suppress its government, and absorb its territory and\npopulation, without any provocation or any offence given, but merely\nbecause it wants it to complete and round off its own territory,\nas Sardinia has done to the Roman or ecclesiastical state, is too\nmanifestly a violation of international law to leave any doubt on any\nmind that does not hold the principle of all law to be that might\nmakes right.[47]\n\nNo doubt certain untenable theories of popular sovereignty and\ncertain alleged plebiscitums have had something to do with blinding\nthe eyes of our American sympathizers to the atrocity of the acts\nthey applaud. But plebiscitums cannot be pleaded when taken without\nthe order or assent of the sovereign authority, if there is a\nsovereign authority, as we have already said. In the case of every\nItalian state absorbed, there was a sovereign authority, and the\nplebiscitum taken was not by its order or assent, but against its\npositive prohibition. It is idle to say that the people of these\nseveral states gave their consent to be absorbed, for except as the\nstate, represented by its sovereign authority, there is no people\nwith a consent either to give or to withhold. The people, no doubt,\nare sovereign in the constitution and government, but not otherwise,\nfor otherwise they have no existence. A people or population of a\ngiven territory wholly disorganized, without constitution or laws,\nand deprived of all government, must necessarily, for simple\npreservation, reorganize and reconstitute government by conventions\nor plebiscitums as best they can; but when they have reconstituted\ngovernment or the state, their sovereignty merges in it. The people\nof the United States and of the several states can amend the\nconstitution, but only constitutionally, through the government. The\nnotion which has latterly gained some vogue, that there persists\nalways a sovereign people back of the government and constitution,\nor organic people, competent to alter, change, modify, or overturn\nthe existing government at will, is purely revolutionary, fatal to\nall stable government, to all political authority, to the peace and\norder of society, and to all security for liberty, either public or\nprivate. We see the effects of it in the present deplorable condition\nof France.\n\nThe resolutions reported by the committee and adopted by the meeting,\nand which Dr. Thompson in his address tells us \"are constructed on a\nphilosophical order of thought,\" attempt to place \"the temporal power\nof the Pope within the category of all earthly human governments,\nand bound by the same conditions and subject to the same fortunes.\"\nThis may be successfully disputed. The Roman or ecclesiastical state\nwas a donation to the Holy See or the Church of Rome. Gifts to the\nchurch are gifts to God, and when made are the property, under him,\nof the spirituality, which by no laws, heathen, Jewish, or Christian,\ncan be deprived of their possession or use without sacrilege. They\nare sacred to religious uses, and can no longer, without the consent\nof the spirituality, be diverted to temporal uses, without adding\nsacrilege to robbery. Whoso attacks the spirituality attacks God. The\nproperty or sovereignty of the Roman state vests, then, in the Holy\nSee--hence it is always called and officially recognized as the state\nof the church--and not in the Pope personally; but in him only _ex\nofficio_ as its incumbent, as trustee, or administrator. Hence the\nPope denied his right to surrender it, and answered the Minister of\nSardinia, _Non possumus_. The temporal power of the Pope is therefore\nnot within the category of all earthly human governments, but is\nthe property of the spirituality. Victor Emmanuel, in despoiling\nthe Pope, has despoiled the Holy See, the spirituality, usurped\nchurch property, property given to God, and sacred to the religious\nuses. The deed which our eminent jurists and Protestant divines\nsympathize with and applaud, strikes a blow at the spirituality, at\nthe sacredness of all church property, of Protestant churches as well\nas of Catholic churches--at the sacredness of all eleemosynary gifts,\nand asserts the right of power when strong enough to divert them from\nthe purposes of the donors. These Protestant ministers assert in\nprinciple that their own churches may be despoiled of their revenues\nand funds without sacrilege, without injustice, by any power that\nis able to do it. They defend the right of any one who chooses to\ndivert from the purpose of the donors all donations and investments\nto found and support hospitals, orphan asylums, retreats for the aged\nand destitute, asylums for idiots, deaf-mutes, the blind, the insane,\npublic libraries, schools, colleges, seminaries, and academies, peace\nsocieties, tract societies, home and foreign missionary societies,\nand Bible societies; they not only defend the right of the state\nin which they are placed to confiscate at its pleasure all funds,\nrevenues, and investments of the sort, but the right of any foreign\nstate to invade the territory in time of peace, take possession of\nthem by armed force, as public property, and to divert them to any\npurpose it sees proper. Did the learned divines, the eminent jurists,\nwho approve the resolutions ever hear of the speech of Daniel Webster\nand the decision of the Supreme Court of the United States in the\nfamous Dartmouth College case? Or are they so intent on crushing the\nPapacy that they are quite willing to cut their own throats?\n\nBut the fact of the donation to the Holy See is denied. Be it so.\nCertain it is that the Roman state never belonged to the Sard\nkingdom; that the church has always claimed it, had her claim allowed\nby every state in the world, has possessed the sovereignty, not\nalways without disturbance, for a thousand years without an adverse\nclaimant; and that is sufficient to give her a valid title by\nprescription against all the world, even if she have no other, which\nwe do not admit--an older and better title than that of any secular\nsovereign in Europe to his estates. Every sovereign or sovereign\nstate in Europe is estopped by previous acknowledgment, and the\nabsence of any adverse claimant with the shadow of a right, from\npleading the invalidity of the title of the Holy See. The Roman state\nis therefore ecclesiastical, not secular.\n\nWhether P\u00e8re Lacordaire ever said, as Dr. Thompson asserts, that\n\"in no event could the people be donated,\" or not, we are not\nauthentically informed; but if he did, he said a very foolish and a\nvery untrue thing. The people cannot be donated as slaves, nor could\nany of their rights of property or any of their private or public\nrights be donated. Every feudal lawyer knows that. The donation,\ngrant, or cession could be and was only the right of government and\neminent domain, or the right the grantor possessed; but that could\nbe ceded as Louisiana was ceded by France, Florida by Spain, and\nCalifornia by Mexico, to the United States. In the cessions made\nto the Holy See, no right of the people to govern themselves or to\nchoose their own sovereign was ceded, for the people ceded had had\nno such right, and never had had it. The sovereign who had the right\nof governing them ceded his own right to the church, but no right\npossessed or ever possessed by the people or inhabitants of the\nterritory. International law knows no people apart from the sovereign\nor government. The right of self-government is the right of each\nnation or political people to govern itself without the dictation\nor interference of any foreign power, and is only another term for\nnational independence. What was Pepin's or Charlemagne's, either\ncould cede without ceding any right or possession of the people. So\nof the donations or cessions of that noble woman, the protectress of\nSt. Gregory VII., the Countess Matilda. If P\u00e8re Lacordaire ever said\nwhat he is reported to have said, he must have forgotten the law to\nwhich he was originally bred, and spoken rather as a red republican\nthan as a Catholic theologian, statesman, or jurist.\n\nBut waiving the fact that the sovereignty of the Roman state\nhas a spiritual character by being vested in the Holy See, and\ngranting, not conceding, that it is in \"the category of all earthly\nsovereignties,\" its right is no less perfect and inviolable, and the\ninvasion and spoliation of the Roman state by Sardinia, as of the\nother Italian states, are no less indefensible and unjustifiable on\nany principle of international law or of Christian or even of heathen\nethics; for one independent state has no right to invade, despoil,\nand appropriate or absorb another that gives it no just cause of\nwar. Nor is the act any more defensible, as we have already shown,\nif done in response to the invitation of a portion, even a majority,\nof the inhabitants, if in opposition to the will of the legitimate\nauthority. Such invitation would partake of the nature of rebellion,\nbe treasonable, and no people has the right to rebel against their\nsovereign, or to commit treason. Men who talk of \"the sacred right\nof insurrection,\" either know not what they say, or are the enemies\nalike of order and liberty. The people have, we deny not, the right\nto withdraw their allegiance from the tyrant who tramples on the\nrights of God and of man, but never till a competent authority has\ndecided that he is a tyrant and has forfeited his right to reign,\nwhich a Parisian or a Roman mob certainly is not. How long is it\nsince these same gentlemen who are congratulating Victor Emmanuel\nwere urging the government, leading its armies, or fighting in the\nranks, to put down what they termed a rebellion in their own country,\nand condemning treason as a crime?\n\nBut the Romans and other Italians are of the same race, and speak\nthe same language, we are told. That they are of the same race\nis questionable; but, suppose it, and that they speak the same\nlanguage. They are no more of the same race and speak no more the\nsame language, than the people of the United States and the people\nof Great Britain; have we, on that ground, the right to invade Great\nBritain, dethrone Queen Victoria, suppress the Imperial Parliament,\nto annex politically the British Empire to the United States, and to\nbring the British people under Congress and President Grant?\n\nBut as Italy is geographically one, it ought, we are told again, to\nbe politically one. The United States, Canada, and Mexico, including\nCentral America and British Columbia, are geographically one; but\nwill any of the honorable or reverend gentlemen who addressed the\nmeeting, or wrote letters to the committee that called it, contend\nthat we have, therefore, the right unprovoked, and simply because it\nwould be convenient to have them politically a part of our republic,\nto invade them with our armies, suppress their present governments,\nand annex them to the Union?\n\n\"Rome is the ancient capital of Italy, and the Italian government\nwishes to recover it, and needs its prestige for the present kingdom\nof Italy.\" But in no known period of history has Rome ever belonged\nto Italy; Italy for ages belonged to Rome, and was governed from and\nby it. Never in its whole history was Rome the capital of an Italian\nstate, or the seat of an Italian government. She was not the capital\nof any state; she was herself the state as long as the Roman Empire\nlasted, and as such governed Italy and the world. The empire was not\nRoman because Rome was its capital city, but because Rome was the\nsovereign state itself, and all political power or political rights\nemanated, or were held to emanate, from her; and hence the empire was\nRoman, and the people were called Romans, not Italians. If you talk\nof restoration, let it be complete--recognize Rome as the sovereign\nstate, and the rest of the world be held as subject provinces. Italy\nwas never the state while Rome governed, nor has the name Italy\nat all times had the same geographical sense. Sometimes it meant\nSicily, sometimes the southern, other times the northern, part of the\npeninsula--sometimes the heel or the foot, and sometimes the leg, of\nthe boot.\n\nIt might or it might not be desirable for the pretended kingdom of\nItaly to have Rome for its capital, or the seat of its government,\nthough we think Florence in this mercantile age would be far more\nsuitable. But suppose it. Yet these Protestant ministers must know\nthat there is a divine command that forbids one to covet what is\none's neighbor's. Achab, king of Israel, wanted Naboth's vineyard,\nand was much troubled in spirit that Naboth would not consent to\npart with it either for love or money. His queen, the liberal-minded\nJezebel, rebuked him for his dejection, and, fearing to use his power\nas king of Israel, took measures in his name that Naboth should be\nstoned to death, and the vineyard delivered to Achab. It was all very\nsimple and easily done; but we read that vengeance overtook the king,\nfell heavily on him, his household, and his false prophets; that\nJezebel fled from the Avenger, was overtaken and slain, and \"the dogs\ncame and licked up her blood.\" There is such a reality as justice,\nthough our American sympathizers with the liberal and enlightened\nJezebel seem to have forgotten it.\n\nDr. Stevens, the Protestant Episcopal Bishop of Pennsylvania,\nrejoices at the spoliation of the Pope, the absorption of the Roman\nstate, and the unification of Italy, because \"Italy is thus opened to\nliberal ideas, and Rome itself unlocked to the advancing civilization\nand intelligence of the nineteenth century.\" Which advancing\ncivilization and intelligence are aptly illustrated, we presume,\nby the recent Franco-Prussian war, the communistic insurrection\nin Paris, the prostration of France, the nation that has advanced\nfarthest in liberal ideas and nineteenth-century civilization. We\nhave here on a fly-sheet a specimen of the liberal ideas to which\nItaly is opened, and of the sort of civilization and intelligence\nto which Rome is unlocked. We extract it for the benefit of Bishop\nStevens and his brethren:\n\n    \"Religions said to be revealed,\" these free-thinkers\n    tells us, \"have always been the worst enemy of mankind,\n    because by making truth, which is the patrimony of all,\n    the privilege of the few, they resist the progressive\n    development of science and liberty, which can alone\n    solve the gravest social problems that have tormented\n    entire generations for ages.\n\n    \"Priests have invented supernatural beings, made\n    themselves mediators between them and men, and go\n    preaching always a faith that substitutes authority for\n    reason, slavery for liberty, the brute for the man.\n\n    \"But the darkness is radiated, and progress beats\n    down the idols and breaks the chains with which the\n    priesthood has bound the human conscience. Furiously\n    has raged the war between dogma and the postulates of\n    science, liberty and tyranny, science and error.\n\n    \"The voice of justice, so long silenced in blood by\n    kings and priests conspiring together, comes forth\n    omnipotent from the secret cells of the Inquisition,\n    from the ashes of the funeral pile, from every stone\n    sanctified by the blood of the apostles of truth.\n    People believed the reign of evil would last for\n    ever, but the day is white, a spark has kindled a\n    conflagration. Rome of the priests becomes Rome of the\n    people, the Holy City a human city. She no longer lends\n    herself to a hypocritical faith, which, by substituting\n    the form for the substance, excites the hatred of\n    people against people solely because the one worships a\n    God in the synagogue and the other in the pagoda.\n\n    \"The association of free-thinkers is established here\n    most opportunely to give the finishing stroke to the\n    crumbling edifice of the priesthood, founded in the\n    ignorance of the many by the astuteness of the few.\n    Truth proved by science is our creed; respect for our\n    own rights in respecting the rights of others, our\n    morality.\n\n    \"It is necessary to look boldly in the face the monster\n    which for ages has made the earth a battle-field,\n    to defy him openly and in the light of day. We shall\n    therefore be true to the programme of civilization,\n    in the name of which the _world has applauded the\n    liberation of Rome_ from the Pope, and we call upon\n    all who love the moral independence of the family,\n    prostituted and enslaved by the priest, upon all who\n    wish a country great and respected, upon all who\n    believe in human perfectibility, to unite with us under\n    the banner of science and justice.\n\n    \"To Rome is reserved a great glory--that of initiating\n    the third and most splendid epoch of human civilization.\n\n    \"Free Rome ought to repair the damage done to the\n    world by sacerdotal Rome. She can do it, and she must\n    do it. Let the true friends of liberty be associated,\n    and descend to no compromise, no bargain with the most\n    terrible enemy the human race has ever had.\"[48]\n\nThis programme of the Association of Free-thinkers in Rome is not\nan inapt commentary on the letter of the Bishop of Pennsylvania,\nand is a hearty response to the sympathy and encouragement given\nthem in their work of destruction by the great and respectable New\nYork meeting. It at least tells our American sympathizers how their\nfriends in Rome understand their applause of the deposition of the\nPope from his temporal sovereignty and the unity of Italy. Are they\npleased with the response given them?\n\nThere may be a difference between the free-thinkers and their\nAmerican friends; but the chief difference apparently is, that the\nfree-thinkers are logical and have the courage of their principles,\nknow what they mean and say it frankly, without reticence or\ncircumlocution, while their American sympathizers have a hazy\nperception of their own principles, do not see very clearly whither\nthey lead, and are afraid to push them to their last logical\nconsequences. They have not fully mastered the principles on which\nthey act; only half-know their own meaning; and the half they do\nknow they would express and not express. Yet they are great men and\nlearned men, but hampered by their Protestantism, which admits no\nclear or logical statement, except so far as it coincides with the\nfree-thinkers in regarding the Papacy as a monster, which must, in\nthe interests of civilization and liberty, be got rid of. Yet we\ncan discover no substantial difference in principle between them.\nThe deeds and events they applaud have no justification or excuse,\nsave in the atrocious principles set forth by the free-thinkers. We\nare willing to believe these distinguished gentlemen try to persuade\nthemselves, as they would fain persuade us, that it is possible to\nwar against the Papacy without warring against revealed religion or\nChristian morals, as did the reformers in the sixteenth century;\nbut these Roman free-thinkers know better, and tell them that they\ncannot do it. They understand perfectly well that Christianity as a\nrevelation and an authoritative religion and the Papacy stand or fall\ntogether; and it is because they would get rid of all religions that\nclaim to be revealed or to have authority in matters of conscience,\nthat they seek to overthrow the Papacy. They attack the temporal\nsovereignty of the Pope only as a means of attacking more effectually\nhis spiritual sovereignty; and they wish to get rid of his spiritual\nsovereignty only because they wish to rid themselves of the spiritual\norder, of the law of God, nay, of God himself, and feel themselves\nfree to live for this world alone, and bend all their energies to\nthe production, amassing, and enjoying the goods of time and sense.\nIt is not the Pope personally, or his temporal government as such,\nthat they call the worst enemy of mankind, or the \"monster that for\nages has made the earth a field of blood,\" but revealed religion,\nbut faith, but the supernatural order, but the law of God, the\nspiritual order, which the Pope officially represents, and always and\neverywhere asserts, and which his temporal power aids him to assert\nmore freely and independently. They recognize no medium between\nthe Papacy and no-religion. They disdain all compromise, admit no\n_via media_, neither the Anglican _via media_ between \"Romanism\"\nand dissent, nor the Protestant _via media_ between the Papacy and\ninfidelity. They war not against Protestantism, though they despise\nit as a miserable compromise, neither one thing nor another; they\neven regard it with favor as a useful and an efficient ally in their\nanti-religious war.\n\nThe free-thinkers in Rome and elsewhere present the real and true\nissue between the Papacy and its enemies, and give the real meaning\nof the atrocious deeds which have effected the deposition of the\nPope, the absorption of the state of the church, and the unity\nof Italy under the House of Savoy. They present it, too, without\ndisguise, in its utter nakedness, so that the most stolid cannot\nmistake it; precisely as we ourselves have uniformly presented it.\nThe issue is \"the Papacy or no-religion,\" and the meaning of the\ndeeds and events the New York meeting applauded is, \"Down with the\nPapacy as the means of putting down religion and emancipating the\nhuman conscience from the law of God!\" How does the Protestant\nEpiscopal Bishop of Pennsylvania, and his brother Protestant\nEpiscopal bishops among the sympathizers with Italian unity, like\nthe meaning or the issue, when presented truly and honestly, and\nthey are forced to look it squarely in the face? What does Mr.\nJustice Strong, of the Supreme Court of the United States, think of\nit? He is the president of an evangelical--perhaps we should say\nfanatical--association, whose object is to procure an amendment to\nthe preamble of the Constitution of the United States, so that the\nrepublic shall be made to profess, officially, belief in God, in\nChrist, and the supernatural inspiration of the Scriptures of the\nOld and New Testaments. What says he to the assertion that \"religions\nsaid to be revealed have always been the worst enemy of mankind\"? Yet\nhis name appears among the sympathizers with Italian unity. Do these\ngentlemen know what crimes and atrocities they applaud, and what is\nthe cause with which they express their sympathy? Or, like the old\nJews who crucified the Lord of Life between two thieves, are they\nignorant of what they do?\n\nThese Roman free-thinkers only give us the programme of the secret\nsocieties, who have their network spread over all Europe, and even\nover this country; of the Mazzinis and Garibaldis, of the Red\nRepublicans and Communists, who have instituted a new Reign of\nTerror in Paris, who are filling the prisons of that city while we\nare writing (April 7) with the friends of order, with priests and\nreligious, plundering the churches, entering and robbing convents\nand nunneries, and insulting and maltreating their peaceful and\nholy inmates, banishing religion from the schools, suppressing the\npublic worship of God, and drenching the streets in the blood of the\npurest and noblest of the land, all in the name of the people, of\nliberty, equality, and fraternity--the programme, in fact, of the\nwhole revolutionary, radical, or so-called liberal party throughout\nthe world. The realization of civil liberty, the advancement of\nscience, the promotion of society, truth, and justice, are--unless,\nperhaps, with here and there an individual--a mere pretext to dupe\nsimple and confiding people, and gain their support. The leaders and\nknowing ones are not duped; they understand what they want, and that\nis the total abolition of all revealed religion, of all belief in the\nspiritual order, or the universal, eternal, and immutable principles\nof right and justice, and the complete emancipation of the human\nintellect from all faith in the supernatural, and of conscience from\nall the law not self-imposed.\n\nAre our American sympathizers with Victor Emmanuel in his war on the\nPope, with the unity of Italy, and the revolutionary party throughout\nEurope, and with which the Protestant missionaries on the Continent\nin Catholic nations are in intimate alliance, really dupes, and\ndo they really fancy, if the Papacy were gone, the movement they\napplaud could be arrested before it had reached the programme of\nthe Association of Free-thinkers in Rome? We can hardly believe it.\nEurope was reorganized, after the fall of the Roman Empire, by the\nPapacy, and consequently on a Christian basis--the independence of\nthe spiritual order, and the freedom of religion from secular control\nor intermeddling, the rights of conscience, and the supremacy of\ntruth and justice in the mutual relations of individuals and of\nnations. No doubt the Christian ideal was far from being practically\nrealized in the conduct of men or nations; there were relics of\nheathen barbarism to be subdued, old superstitions to be rooted out,\nand fierce passions to be quelled. The Philistines still dwelt in\nthe land. In reorganized Europe there was no lack of great crimes\nand great criminals, followed often by grand penances and grand\nexpiations; society in practice was far from perfect, and the good\nwork that the church was carrying on was often interrupted, retarded,\nor destroyed by barbarian and heathen invasions of the Normans from\nthe North, the Huns from the East, and the Saracens from the South.\n\nBut the work was renewed as soon as the violence ceased. Under\nthe inspiration and direction of the Papacy and the zealous and\npersevering labors of the bishops and their clergy, and the monastic\norders of either sex, assisted not unfrequently by kings and\nemperors, secular princes and nobles, the Christian faith became\nthe acknowledged faith of all ranks and classes, individuals and\nnations. Gradually the old heathen superstitions were rooted out, the\nbarbarisms were softened if not wholly subdued, just and humane laws\nwere enacted, the rights of individuals and of nations were defined\nand declared sacred and inviolable, schools were multiplied, colleges\nestablished, universities founded, intelligence diffused, and society\nwas advancing, if slowly yet surely, towards the Christian ideal.\nIf men or nations violated the immutable principles of justice and\nright, they at least recognized them and their duty to conform to\nthem in their conduct; if the law was disobeyed, it was not denied\nor so altered as to sanction men's vices or crimes; if marriage was\nsometimes violated, its sacredness and indissolubility were held\nto be the law, and nobody sought to conform it to the interests of\nlust or lawless passion; if a feudal baron wrongfully invaded the\nterritory of his brother baron, or oppressed his people, it was\nacknowledged to be wrong; in a word, if the conduct of men or nations\nwas bad, it was in violation of the principles which they held to\nbe right--of the law which they owned themselves bound to obey. The\nconscience was not perverted, nor ethics and legislation made to\nconform to a perverted conscience.\n\nBut in the sixteenth century, bold, base, and disorderly men rose\nnot only in acts of disobedience to the Pope, which had been no rare\nthing, but in principle and doctrine against the Papacy; declared\nit a usurpation, hostile to the independence of sovereigns and the\nBible; denounced the Papal Church as the mystery of Babylon, and\nthe Pope as the man of sin. The sovereigns listened to them, and\nthe people of several nations believed and trusted them, cast off\nthe Papacy, and interrupted the progress in manners and morals, in\nsociety and civilization, which had been going on from the sixth\ncentury to the sixteenth under the auspices of the Popes. The\nreformers, as they are called, no doubt really believed that they\ncould cast off the Papacy and retain the church, Christianity,\nrevealed religion, in even greater purity and efficiency. Yet the\nexperiment, it must be conceded, has not succeeded. The church, as an\nauthoritative body, has been lost with the loss of the Papacy. The\nBible, for the want of a competent and authoritative interpreter,\nhas ceased to be authority for faith, and has been made to sanction\nthe most various and contradictory opinions. Faith itself has been\nresolved into a variable opinion, and the law of God explained so as\nto suit each man's own taste and inclination. Religion is no longer\nthe recognition and assertion of the supremacy of the spiritual\norder, the rights of God, and the homage due to our Maker, Redeemer,\nand Saviour; nothing eternal and immutable is acknowledged, and truth\nand justice, it is even contended, should vary from age to age, from\npeople to people, and from individual to individual.\n\nThe state itself, which in several anti-Papal nations has undertaken\nto supply the place of the Papacy, has everywhere failed, and must\nfail, because, there being no spiritual authority above it to declare\nfor it the law of God, or to place before it a fixed, irreversible,\nand infallible ideal, it has no support but in opinion, and\nnecessarily becomes dependent on the people; and, however slowly or\nreluctantly, it is obliged to conform to their ever-varying opinions,\npassions, prejudices, ignorance, and false conscience. It may retard\nby acts of gross tyranny or by the exercise of despotic power the\npopular tendency for a time, but in proportion as it attempts it,\nit saps the foundations of its own authority, and prepares its own\noverthrow or subversion. If in the modern non-Catholic world there\nhas been a marked progress in scientific inventions as applied to\nthe mechanical and industrial arts, there has been an equally marked\ndeterioration in men's principles and character. If there is in our\ntimes less distance between men's principles and practice than in\nmedi\u00e6val times, it is not because their practice is more Christian,\nmore just or elevated, for in fact it is far less so, but because\nthey have lowered their ideal, and brought their principles down to\nthe level of their practice. Having no authority for a fixed and\ndetermined creed, they assert as a principle none is necessary,\nnay, that any creed imposed by authority, and which one is not free\nto interpret according to one's own private judgments, tastes, or\ninclination, is hostile to the growth of intelligence, the advance\nof science, and the progress of civilization. The tendency in all\nProtestant sects, stronger in some, weaker in others, is to make\nlight of dogmatic faith, and to resolve religion and morality into\nthe sentiments and affections of our emotional nature. Whatever is\nauthoritative or imposes a restraint on our sentiments, affections,\npassions, inclinations, fancies, whims, or caprices, is voted\ntyrannical and oppressive, an outrage on man's natural freedom,\nhostile to civilization, and not to be tolerated by a free people,\nwho, knowing, dare maintain their rights.\n\nTake as an apt illustration the question of marriage, the basis of\nthe family, as the family is the basis of society. In the Papal\nChurch marriage is a sacrament, holy and absolutely indissoluble\nsave by death, and the severest struggles the Popes engaged in with\nkings and emperors were to compel them to maintain its sanctity.\nThe so-called reformers rejected its sacramental character, and\nmade it a civil contract, and dissoluble. At first, divorces were\nrestricted to a single cause, that of adultery, and the guilty party\nwas forbidden to marry again; but at the pressure of public opinion\nother causes were added, till now, in several states, divorce may\nbe obtained for almost any cause, or no cause at all, and both\nparties be at liberty to marry again if they choose. There are, here\nand elsewhere, associations of women that contend that Christian\nmarriage is a masculine institution for enslaving women, though it\nbinds both man and woman in one and the same bond, and that seek\nto abolish the marriage bond altogether, make marriage provisional\nfor so long a time as the mutual love of the parties may last, and\ndissoluble at the will or caprice of either party. No religious or\nlegal sanction is needed in its formation or for its dissolution.\nMen and women should be under no restraint either before or after\nmarriage, but should be free to couple and uncouple as inclination\ndictates, and leave the children, if any are suffered to be born,\nto the care of--we say not whom or what. Say we not, then, truly,\nthat without the Papacy we lose the church; without the church, we\nlose revealed religion; and without revealed religion, we lose not\nonly the supernatural order, but the moral order, even natural right\nand justice, and go inevitably to the conclusions reached by the\nfree-thinkers in Rome. One of the greatest logicians of modern times,\nthe late M. Proudhon, has said: \"One who admits the existence even of\nGod is logically bound to admit the whole Catholic Church, its Pope,\nits bishops and priests, its dogmas, and its entire cultus; and we\nmust get rid of God before we can get rid of despotism and assert\nliberty.\"\n\nLet our American sympathizers with Victor Emmanuel and the unity of\nItaly look at modern society as it is, and they can hardly fail to\nsee that everything is unsettled, unmoored, and floating; that men's\nminds are everywhere shaken, agitated by doubt and uncertainty;\nthat no principle, no institution, is too venerable or too sacred\nto be attacked, no truth is too well established to be questioned,\nand no government or authority too legitimate or too beneficent\nto be conspired against. Order there is none, liberty there is\nnone; it is sought, but not yet obtained. Everywhere revolution,\ndisorder--disorder in the state, disorder in society, disorder in\nthe family, disorder in the individual, body and soul, thoughts and\naffections; and just in proportion as the Papacy is rejected or its\ninfluence ceases to be felt, the world intellectually and morally,\nindividually and socially, lapses into chaos.\n\nWe describe tendencies, and readily admit that the whole non-Catholic\nworld has not as yet followed out these tendencies to their last\nterm; in most Protestant sects there are undoubtedly those who assert\nand honestly defend revealed religion, and to some extent Christian\ndoctrines and morals; but, from their Catholic reminiscences and\nfrom the reflected influence of the Papacy still in the world by\ntheir side declaring the truth, the right, the just, for individuals\nand nations, and denouncing whatever is opposed to them, not from\nProtestant principles or by virtue of their Protestant tendencies;\nand just in proportion as the external influence of the Papacy has\ndeclined and men believed it becoming old and decrepit, has the\nProtestant world been more true to its innate tendencies, developed\nmore logically its principles, cast off more entirely all dogmatic\nfaith, resolved religion into a sentiment or emotion, and rushed into\nrationalism, free religion, and the total rejection of Christian\nfaith or Christian morals, and justified its dereliction from God\non principle and at the command of what it calls science--as if\nwithout God there could be any science, or anybody to cultivate it.\nThe Protestant world has no principle of its own that opposes this\nresult, or that when logically carried out does not lead surely and\ninevitably to it. The principles held by Protestants that oppose it\nand retain many of them from actually reaching it are borrowed from\nthe Papacy, and if the Papacy should fall they would fall with it.\n\nNow we ask, and we ask in all seriousness, the learned jurists, the\ndistinguished statesmen, the able editors, the eminent Protestant\ndivines, poets, and philosophers, who took part in or approved the\ngreat sympathy meeting, where but in the Papacy are we to look for\nthe nucleus or the principle of European reorganization, for the\nspirit that will move over the weltering chaos and bid light spring\nfrom the darkness, and order from the confusion? We know they look\nanywhere but to the Papacy; to the Parisian Commune, to Kaiser\nWilliam and Prince Bismarck, to Victor Emmanuel, to Mazzini, and to\nGaribaldi--that is, to the total abolition of the Papacy and the\nCatholic Church. But in this are they not like the physician who\nprescribes, as a cure to the man already drunk, drinking more and\nmore deeply? Are they not like those infatuated Jews--we are writing\non Good Friday--who demanded of Pilate the release, not of Jesus\nin whom no fault was found, but of Barabbas, who was a robber! Can\nBarabbas help them? Will he help re-establish the reign of law,\nand teach men to respect the rights of property, the rights of\nsovereigns, and the duties of subjects?\n\nWe say not that the Pope can reorganize Europe, for we know not the\nsecret designs of Providence. Nations that have once been enlightened\nand tasted the good word of God, and have fallen away, lapsed into\ninfidelity, and made a mock of Christ crucified, cannot easily, if\nat all, be renewed unto repentance and recover the faith they have\nknowingly and wilfully cast from them. There is not another Christ\nto be crucified for them. We have no assurance that these apostate\nEuropean nations are ever to be reorganized; to be saved from the\nchaos into which they are now weltering; but if they are, we know\nthis, that it can be only by the power and grace of God, communicated\nto them through the Papacy. There is no other source of help. Kings\nand Kaisers cannot do it, for it is all they can do to keep their\nown heads on their shoulders; the mob cannot do it, for it can only\nmake \"confusion worse confounded;\" the popularly constituted state,\nlike our own republic, cannot do it, for a popular state, a state\nthat rests on the popular will, can only follow popular opinions, and\nreflect the ignorance, the passions, the fickleness, the selfishness,\nand the basenesses of the people; science and philosophy cannot\ndo it, for they are themselves disorganized, in a chaotic state,\nuncertain whether man differs from the brute, whether he has a soul,\nor is only a congeries of matter, and whether he is or is not\ndeveloped from the monkey or the tadpole; atheism cannot do it, for\nit has no positive principle, is the negation of all principle, and\neffective only for destruction; Protestantism cannot do it, for it\nis itself chaos, the original source of the evil, and contains as\nits own no principle or organite from which a new organization can\nbe developed. We repeat, then, if there is any hope, it is in the\nPapacy, which rests on a basis outside of the world, and speaks with\ndivine authority; and the first step to reorganization must be the\nre-establishment of the Holy Father in the full possession of his\nrights. Whether there is faith enough left on earth to demand and\neffect his restoration, remains to be seen.\n\nCertain it is, let men say what they will, the Pope is the only\nsovereign power on earth at this moment that stands as the defender\nof the rights of independent governments, of international law, the\nequality of sovereign states without regard to size, race, language,\nor geographical position--the sole champion of those great, eternal,\nand immutable principles of justice on which depend alike public\nliberty and individual freedom, the sanctity and inviolability of the\nfamily, the peace and order and the very existence of society. If the\nkings and rulers of this world are with him, or dare utter a feeble\nwhisper to encourage and sustain him, the people are opposed, or cold\nor indifferent, and pass him by, wagging their heads, saying in a\nmocking tone, \"He trusted in heaven, and let heaven save him.\"\n\nIt were little short of profanity to indicate the contrast between\nhis sublime attitude and the abject and servile attitude of these\ndistinguished countrymen of ours. They but prove themselves slaves\nto the spirit of the age, and only reflect popular ignorance and\npassion, and follow the multitude to worship at the shrine of\nSuccess, and to trample on the wronged and outraged. He dares\narraign the fierce and satanic spirit of the age, to face the\nenraged multitude, to defy popular opinion or popular passion, to\nproclaim the truth it condemns, to defend the right it tramples\nunder foot, and uphold the scorned and rejected rights of God, and\nthe inviolability of conscience. It were an insult to truth and\njustice, to moral greatness and nobility, to dwell on the contrast.\nHis attitude is that of his Master when he trod the wine-press alone,\nand of the people none were with him. It is grand, it is sublime,\nbeyond the power of mortal man, unless assisted with strength from\nabove. No man, it seems to us, can contemplate his attitude, firm\nand inflexible, calm and serene, without being filled, if he have\nany nobility or generosity of soul, or any sense of moral heroism or\ntrue manliness in him, with admiration and awe, or feeling that his\nvery attitude proves that he is in the right, and that God is with\nhim. Let our American sympathizers with his traducers and persecutors\nbehold him whom they calumniate, and, if they are men, blush and hang\ntheir heads. Shame and confusion should cover their faces!\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[45] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[46] 1. _The Unity of Italy._ The American Celebration of the Unity\nof Italy, at the Academy of Music, New York, Jan. 12, 1871; with the\nAddresses, Letters, and Comments of the Press. New York: Putnam &\nSons. 1871. Imp. 8vo, pp. 197.\n\n2. _Programma Associazione dei Libri Pensatori in Roma._ _La\nCommissione._ Roma, Febbraio, 1871. Fly-sheet.\n\n[47] The question, Mr. Dana really argues, is, whether Catholics in\nother than the Roman state have, under the law of nations, a right to\ninsist that by virtue of their donations, or what the law treats as\neleemosynary gifts, they shall continue to be vested in the Holy See?\nThe answer must be founded on the acknowledged principle of law, that\nall gifts of the sort must be invested and appropriated according to\nthe will of the donors; and in the interest of all Catholics in the\nHoly See, as the mistress and mother of all the churches, Catholics\nthroughout the world have an ethical right that their gifts shall\nbe invested and appropriated to the purposes for which they are\ngiven; but we doubt if their right can be juridically asserted, under\ninternational law, in the courts of the usurping state, or of any\nother state, since the state of the church is suppressed. But there\ncan be no doubt, from the relation of all Catholics to the Holy See,\nthe invasion of her rights and despoiling her of possessions, whether\nabsolute or only fiduciary, gives to all Catholic powers the right\nof war against the invader and despoiler. At the order of the Holy\nFather, Catholics throughout the world would have the right, even\nwithout the license of their temporal sovereigns, to arm for the\nrecovery and restoration to the Holy See of the possessions or trusts\nof which she may be despoiled, because these possessions and trusts\nbelong to the spirituality, and the Holy Father has plenary authority\nin spirituals, and is the spiritual sovereign, not the temporal\nsovereign, of all Catholics. If Italian Catholics had understood\nthat the Roman state belonged to the Holy See, and therefore to the\nspirituality, they would have understood that no order of their\nking could bind them to obey him in despoiling the Roman state, or\nin entering it against the order of the Pope, for in spirituals the\nspiritual sovereign overrides the temporal sovereign.\n\n[48] Le religioni dette rivelate sono state sempre il pi\u00f9 grande\nnemico della umanit\u00e0, poich\u00e8 facendo del vero, patrimonio di tutti,\nil privilegio di pochi, si opposero allo sviluppo progressivo\ndella scienza e della libert\u00e0, le sole capaci di risolvere i pi\u00f9\ngravi problemi sociali, attorno a cui da secoli si agitano intere\ngenerazioni.\n\nIl sacerdote ha inventato degli esseri sopran-naturali, e fattosi\nmediatore fra questi e gli uomini va predicando ancora uda fede, che\nsostituisce l'autorit\u00e0 alla ragione, la schiavit\u00f9 alla libert\u00e0, il\nbruto all'uomo.\n\nPer\u00f2 la tenebra si \u00e8 diradata, ed il progresso abbatte gl'idoli e\nsvincola l'umana coscienza dalle catene, di cui i sacerdoti l'aveano\ncinta.\n\nAccanita ferve la lotta fra il dogma ed i postulati della scienza,\ntra la libert\u00e0 e la tirannide, fra la scienza e l'errore.\n\nLa voce della giustizia, fatta tacere nel sangue da re e preti\nassieme congiurati, \u00e8 risorta onnipotente dai penetrali della\ninquisizione, dalle ceneri dei roghi, da ogni pietra sanctificata\ndal sangue degli apostoli della verit\u00e0. Si credeva durasse eterno\nil regno del male, per\u00f2 l'alba \u00e8 diventata giorno, la favilla si\n\u00e8 fatta incendio. Ora Roma del prete diviene Roma del popolo, la\ncitt\u00e0 santa citt\u00e0 umana. Non pi\u00f9 si presti fede a credenze ipocrite,\nche sostituendo la forma alla sostanza suscitarono odi tra popoli\ne popoli, sol perch\u00e8 gli uni adoravano un dio nella sinagoga e gli\naltri nella pagoda.\n\nL'associazione dei liberi pensatori si stabilisce qui opportunamente\nper dare l'ultimo colpo al crollante edificio sacerdotale, fondato\nnella ignoranza dei molti e per l'astuzia dei pochi. Le verit\u00e0\nprovate dalla scienza costituiscono la nostra sola fede, il rispetto\nal diritto proprio nel rispettare il diritto altrui, la nostra morale.\n\nE d'uopo guardare arditamente in faccia quel mostro secolare, che\ndella terra ha fatto un campo di battaglia, sfidarlo all'aperto ed\nalla luce del giorno. Saremo cos\u00ec fedeli al programma della civilt\u00e0,\nin nome della quale il mondo ha applaudito alla liberazione di Roma\ndal Papa.\n\nNoi facciamo appello a quanti amano davvero l'indipendenza morale\ndella famiglia, prostituita e fatta schiava dal prete--a quanti\nvogliono una patria grande e rispettata--a quanti credono alla umana\nperfettibilit\u00e0--uniamoci tutti sotto la bandiera della scienza e\ndella giustizia.\n\nA Roma \u00e8 riservata una gran gloria--quella d'iniziare la terza e pi\u00f9\nsplendida epoca dell'incivilimento umano.\n\nRoma libera deve riparare ai danni arrecati al mondo dalla Roma\nsacerdotale. Essa pu\u00f2 far lo, essa deve farlo. I veri amici della\nlibert\u00e0 si associino, e non iscendano a patti sol nemico pi\u00f9\nterribile che abbia avuto l'umana famiglia.\n\n          ROMA, Febbraio, 1871. LA COMMISSIONE.\n\n\n\n\nFLOWERS.\n\n\nI.\n\n      To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,\n        To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,\n      Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,\n        And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;\n        To climb the trackless mountain all unseen\n      With the wild flock that never needs a fold,\n        Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean--\n\nIs a pleasure accorded to few only of the dwellers upon earth;\nseldom indeed to the few who could best appreciate the privilege.\nA large portion of the sum total of human existence is spent in\ncities. Outside of these, the wants of life, best supplied by\nthe co-operation of numbers, gather people together in towns and\nvillages. Travelling is generally such only as may be needful in the\nexercise of trades and professions, with a view to their ultimate\nend, the accumulation of wealth; or such as exhausted energies demand\nto fit them for further toil. The invalid, it is true, seeks to\nrevive his failing powers in far-away balmy climates and delicious\nscenes--and there is a love for his birthplace in the heart of many a\nwanderer which leads him back time after time to the old homestead,\nand invests it with countless charms, although bleak and barren its\nsurroundings may be--but to how few individuals it is given, in the\nfulness of their health and mental faculties, to rove abroad at will\nthrough the beauties and sublimities of creation--to look on her\nrolling oceans and broad lakes; her foaming cataracts and stupendous\nmountains; on the luxuriant loveliness of the torrid zone, and the\nicy wonders of the north!\n\nYet such things always make part of the expectancies, the bright\nanticipations of youth--the day-dreams, crushed down at last by\nhard realities. For to generation after generation the story of\nlife is strangely the same. Its general events unfold themselves\nin a succession marked for each one with singular uniformity; a\nuniformity, indeed, so susceptible of calculation that on it are\nbased many of its most extended speculations.\n\nPecuniary interests generally push their claims first and most\nboldly, because least to be evaded. Then come the petty edicts of an\nartificial social existence, which command and receive submission\nbefore their presence is even suspected, and though their power\nbe neither recognized nor acknowledged. Gradually the turning\nkaleidoscope of time shows more sombre colors; the path to be trodden\nis made visible--the mind bends itself to the narrow way--earthly\nhappiness seeks its realization in a circumscribed sphere--and so,\none by one, the winged thoughts lower their circle of flight, and the\ndreamer ceases to dream.\n\nBut the love of nature is implanted too deeply in the heart of man to\nbe ever entirely eradicated; and the sentiment finds for itself an\nexpression coextensive with its existence in the universal love of\nflowers. They have a charm for the eye and soul welling from a deeper\nsource than those graceful forms and brilliant colors, for they are a\nportion of the great universe. They are a link, and an important one,\nand the one most exquisitely fashioned, in the mighty chain which\nholds beside them not only the everlasting hills, but\n\n      \"Planets, suns, and adamantine spheres.\"\n\nYear after year they return to us with a beauty which never palls,\nto make us wiser, and better, and happier; and as punctually they\nmeet from each true heart a greeting fitly due to their fairy\nmanifestations of the same boundless Power which called forth those\nmightier, sublimer forms of matter so often placed beyond our reach.\n\nFlowers, when mention is made of them in the Old Testament, are\nconsecrated (so to say) by the most lofty associations; they typify\nvirtue--happiness--the Deity himself. When the inspired writer would\nfain depict in language level to our humble capacity pleasures of\nwhich we can have not the most distant idea--the pleasures of man's\nfirst terrestrial paradise--he calls it a garden; as the word best\nembodying to us happiness sinless and complete; and the Deity in the\nsame sacred volume prompted\n\n      \"The flower of the field, and the lily of the valley,\"\n      (Cant. ii.)\n\nas the most appropriate figures of his own divine holiness. Flowers\nwith lamps of fine gold made part of the decorations of Solomon's\ntemple. The Scriptures were originally written in the land of bold\nimagery and under a burning sun, where herbage and water constitute\nwealth; consequently, we find throughout its pages rich pastures and\nflowing streams suggested themselves as emblems of rewards not only\nin this world, but of those beyond the grave. Again, the brief span\nof life, and the uncertainty of all earthly possessions, are imaged\nby the fading flower and the withered grass; and the prophets in\ntheir denunciations of the wicked constantly compare them, in the\ndesolation of utter abandonment, to a garden without water.\n\nAsia has always been the especial land of flowers; from the\nrose-gardens which Semiramis[49] planted at the foot of Mount\nBajistanos, 800 B.C., to the fragrant gardens now to be seen in\nalmost every oriental city. The fame of these rose-gardens extended\nso far that Alexander the Great, on his Eastern expedition, turned\na long way from his course to visit them. The city which Solomon\nfounded, Tadmor in the wilderness (Palmyra), about midway between the\nOrontes and Euphrates, was celebrated, and indeed derived its name,\nfrom the abundance of a magnificent species of palm-tree which grew\nthere. This tree (the _Borassus_ of Lin.) yields a liquor seducing\nand pernicious, and in taste resembling weak champagne.[50] The ruins\nof this city and its surroundings are described by travellers as\nexceedingly imposing. The city of Susa (in Scripture, Susan), in a\ndistrict lying on the Persian Gulf, was in ancient days the residence\nof the Persian kings; their summers being spent at Ecbatana, in the\ncool mountainous district of Media. The name Susa signifies a lily,\nand is said to have been given on account of the great quantity and\nbeauty of these flowers which grew in its vicinity. The fertility\nof the land of Bashan is mentioned in Scripture, and its oaks are\ncoupled with the cedars of Lebanon. Media also is mentioned by old\nwriters; and Carmania, north of the Persian Gulf, boasted of vines\nbearing clusters more than two feet long.\n\nChina in modern times calls herself the flowery kingdom, but she\nis not the only one; in many other parts roses are extensively\ncultivated for the purpose of distilling from them the ottar\n(_attah-gul_) of commerce; and the landscape is often converted for a\nhundred acres into one great rose-garden. It has been estimated that\none-half of all the varieties of roses scattered over our gardens\nwere originally brought from Asia; and perhaps, counting the fields\nplanted there for distillation, it may be said that one-half of all\nin actual bloom adorn that quarter of the globe. Yet the simple wild\nroses of Asia, like our own wild roses, are very inconspicuous little\nflowers; it is only under the skilful hand of the florist that each\none of those many varieties develops its own peculiar beauties, and\nwe obtain the cultivated roses of the garden. The Afghan province of\nTurkistan is, in some parts, at the present day famous for its roses.\n_Balkh_, the modern capital, is so exceedingly hot that each spring\nthe inhabitants in a body leave it for the little village of Mezar;\nand Mezar boasts of the most beautiful roses in the world--a fragrant\nred rose which they name _gul-i-surkh_. This peculiar variety grows\non the pretended tomb of Ali (whose real monument is at Nedjef).\nThey say that these roses will flourish in no soil but that of\nMezar--an experiment (they say) which has been repeatedly tried and\nfailed. Mr. Vamb\u00e9ry, who was there in 1864, says, \"They are certainly\nmore lovely and fragrant than any I ever saw.\"\n\nMr. Vamb\u00e9ry was sent in 1863, by the Hungarian Academy, on a\nscientific mission to Central Asia. At Teheran he assumed the dress\nof a dervish and the name of Hadji Rechid, and in this character\nhe joined a company of twenty-four pilgrims, \"ragged and dirty,\"\nwho were on their return from Mecca to their far-away home in the\nnortheast. They never penetrated his disguise--and with them he\ntraversed an extent of country never before visited by a European.\nThey travelled mostly by night, to avoid the excessive heat. Of\ncourse much natural landscape was lost, but we are struck with\nthe abundance of flowers and gardens along this route. One which\nhe mentions is not fascinating, but that was an exception; before\nleaving Teheran, he visited two European friends near there, and\nfound \"Count G---- in a small silk tent in a garden like a caldron;\nthe heat was awful! Mr. Alison was more comfortable in his pleasant\ngarden at Guhalek.\"\n\nWhen the pilgrims resumed their journey at Teheran, such as were\nrich enough hired a camel for two, as partners. Mr. Vamb\u00e9ry soon\nloaned his animal to a \"dirty friend,\" and joined the pedestrians,\nwho, like true believers--followers of the Prophet--buried all care\nin one word, _kismet_.[51] As they tramped on (he says), \"When their\nenthusiasm had been sufficiently stimulated by reminiscences of the\ngardens of Mergolan, Namengan, and Kholand, all began with one accord\nto sing a telkin (hymn), in which I joined by screaming as loud as I\nwas able Allah ya Allah!\"\n\nThe gardens at Tabersi, a place where they rested, were very\nbeautiful, also there were \"abundance of oranges and lemons, tinted\nyellow and red with their dark-green leaves.\" From scenes of\nluxuriant vegetation they passed into the desert of Turkistan, which\nextended on all sides, far as eye could reach, like a vast sea of\nsand, on one side slightly undulating in little hills, like waves\nin a storm, on the other side level as a calm lake. Not a bird in\nthe air, nor a crawling thing on the earth; \"traces of nothing but\ndeparted life in the bleaching bones of man or beast who had perished\nthere!\" But mark how rapid the transition once more to beauty and\nfertility! On emerging from this desolation and reaching the frontier\nof Bokara, they had only proceeded half an hour through a country\nresplendent with gardens and cultivated fields when the little\nvillage of Kakemir lay before them.\n\nBokara (the city) is at this day the Rome of Islam. There is a small\ngarden not far from it whose fame is widely extended; for in it\nstands the tomb of Baha-ed-din, the national saint of Turkistan,\nsecond in sanctity only to Mahomet. Pilgrimages are made to this tomb\nand garden from the most remote parts of China; and the people of\nBokara go every week. About three hundred asses ply for hire between\nthe garden and the city. It is considered a miraculous devotion in\nthese animals that, while they go thither with the greatest alacrity,\nonly the most determined cudgelling can turn them homeward--but\nthen, asses may have rural proclivities.\n\nSamarcand is the most beautiful city in Turkistan; magnificent in\nher splendid gardens, and in the tale of past glory told in her\nruins. Two of the lofty domes which greet the eye of the stranger\nas he approaches are associated with Timour--the one is his mosque,\nthe other his tomb, where the warlike Tartar rests among flowers. If\nwe can picture the many lofty edifices with their imposing domes,\nand then suppose the whole intermixed with closely planted gardens,\nwe shall have a faint idea of the loveliness in the first view of\nSamarcand. The way from Samarcand to Karshi, south, lies for the last\ntwo miles entirely through gardens.[52]\n\nIn Karshi is a large garden called Kalenterkhane--literally, beggar's\nhouse; but we would rather translate it pilgrim's house. The words\nare somewhat synonymous there, where the most saintly pilgrims to the\ntomb of the Prophet subsist on alms. But this is a lovely garden on\nthe bank of the river, with walks and beds of flowers; and here the\n_beau monde_ of Karshi are to be seen daily from about two o'clock\nuntil past sunset. In different parts of the place the Samovins\n(gigantic Russian tea-kettles) are constantly occupied in furnishing\ntheir customers, gathered around them in circles two and three deep,\nwith the national beverage, tea.\n\nWe have a slight glimpse of tropical flowers in a greenhouse, but\nnothing of their native beauty and abundance; for what a poor\nrepresentative of its class is that dwarfed and solitary specimen,\nfaded in color and deficient in the perfume of a hot climate! Then\nhow can imagination fill out the entire landscape--when vines and\ntrees cluster together, and twist their dark leaves and a thousand\nsuch blossoms into one sweet mass? Then the nard grass; and the spicy\nchandan, which old books say once covered the mountains of Malaya;\nand the groves of catalpa--not the catalpa of our latitude, but that\nwhich opens under an Indian sky, which the bee seeks before all other\nblossoms! The morning-glory (Ipomea) here has no fragrance, but one\nwhich grows wild in Southern Asia gives out a perfume like cloves.\n\nOne thing we remark in Asia is the quantity of flowers cultivated\nin cities, even the largest and most densely populated; in those of\nChina especially, flowers are a household necessity. In most other\nlands--certainly in ours--they are associated with life in the\ncountry, or, at least, they are the pleasant privilege of the little\nvillage. Flowers in a city are luxuries only within reach of the\nwealthy. A bouquet bought in the market-place is a rare excess of\nfloral expenditure, and it must needs be trimmed and watered until\nthe last leaf withers. The dweller in a labyrinth of brick walls is\nhappy if he can, one time in a year, escape to grass and gardens, and\nrefresh memory that such things exist; but in Asiatic cities flowers\nare a part of life. A modern traveller says:\n\n    \"After an interesting passage up the river to Canton,\n    the stranger enters the suburbs of the city. Here\n    he is surprised to see the number of flowers and\n    flowering-plants which everywhere meet his eyes ...\n    every house-window and courtyard is filled with them.\"\n\nThe home of Ponqua-qua, a retired Chinese merchant and mandarin,\nwas crowded with flowers and sweet shrubs. Besides a greenhouse\nof choice plants, and the customary garden, his banqueting-hall\nopened on a grove of orange-trees and camellias, all covered with\nsinging-birds. In years long past, the same tastes prevailed. Sir\nJohn Chardon, who was in Persia in 1686, dwells on delicious city\ngardens of \"roses, lilies, and peach-trees.\" And further back still,\nin A.D. 1086, lived Atoz, a celebrated Chinese statesman and writer.\nIn a description of his villa and grounds, he enumerates hedges of\nroses and pomegranate-trees--banks of odoriferous flowers--bamboo\ngroves with gravel walks, willows and cedars, with the added treasure\nof a library of 5,000 volumes.[53]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIn almost all pagan countries some certain flowers, either real or\nimaginary, receive a sort of veneration from being associated with\nsupernatural and invisible things. Oftentimes the plant so honored is\na tree, as the _Soma_ of the Hindoos (the Persian _Homa_), which was\n\"the first tree planted by Ahura-marda by the fountain of life. He\nwho drinks of its juice can never die.\" In the Hindoo _Mahabharet_,\nthe mountain Mandar, the occasional abode of the deities, is covered\nwith a \"twining creeper;\" and India boasts a vine well befitting to\ndeck the home of the gods! It is the Bengal _banisteria_ of Linn\u00e6us,\nthe most gigantic of all climbers. Its blossoms are pale pink shaded\nwith red and yellow--so beautiful and so fragrant that it has gained\nthe native name \"delight of the woods.\" Another mountain, Meroo--a\nspot \"beyond man's comprehension\"--is adorned with trees and\ncelestial plants of rare virtue.\n\nThe _Pel\u00e1sa_ (Butea frondosa) is held in great veneration; it gave\nname to the plain Pl\u00e1ssey, or more properly Pel\u00e1ssey. It is named in\nthe _Vedas_, in the laws of Menu, and in Sanscrit poems. Few plants\n(says Sir W. Jones) are considered more venerable and holy. There was\na famous grove of it once at Crishnanagar.\n\nThe oriental _Nauclea_ gives an odor like wine from its gold-colored\nblossoms, hence it was called Halipriga, or beloved of Halin, the\nBacchus of India.\n\nThe _ash-tree_ is very conspicuous in the fables of the _Edda_, and,\nas some part of the Scandinavian creed is said to have been carried\nthither from Asia, we may speak of it here. In the fifth fable of the\nprose _Edda_, the first man was named Aske (ash-tree), and the first\nwoman Emla (elm-tree). We ask, Why these two especial trees? But see\nfurther--they were created by the sons of Bore from two pieces of\nwood found floating in the waves--and, behold, a sensible reason!\n\nAn _ash-tree_ is in the palace of the gods; it typifies the universe.\nIts ramifications are countless--penetrating all things--and under\nits branches the gods hold council. But this ash-tree in various\nshapes is almost the only green leaf in Scandinavian mythology.\nWhatever else Sigge (Odin) carried thither from Asia, he left behind\nthe countless (and some beautiful) flower legends. Or did they die in\nthe icy north--and in their place spring up that machinery of blood\nand fierce passions which made Valhalla not the flower-clad mountain\nof oriental climes, but a battle-ground, where life was renewed only\nto be again pleasurably extinguished, and where boar's meat and mead\nwas joy sufficient?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFlowers seem literally to pervade almost all oriental literature,\nancient and modern. They inspire kings to lay aside care and enact\nthe poet. In the middle of the last century, one of the Chinese\nemperors, Kienlong, distinguished himself by a long poem, in which\nhe painted the beauties of nature and his admiration of them. He was\ncontemporary with Frederick the Great, who also, as his French friend\nsneeringly informs us, always travelled with a quire of foolscap in\nhis pocket. On which of the monarchs the muses smiled most kindly,\nno Chinese critic is here to tell. See-ma-kung, a Chinese statesman,\nwrote a book called the _Garden_--and very many similar might be\nnamed.[54]\n\nWhat can express the softer emotions of the soul as well as flowers?\nThe oriental lover can find no sweeter name for the object of his\npassion than \"My rosebud!\" Her form is the young palm-tree, her brow\nthe white jasmine, her curling locks sweet hyacinths; her grace is\nthe cypress; she is a fawn among aromatic shrubs!\n\n      \"Roses and lilies are like the bright cheeks of beautiful maidens,\n      In whose ears the pearls hang like drops of dew!\"\n\nListen to a song from the Schar-Namah of Fedusi, one of the most\ncelebrated Persian poets. In the original, the lines rhyme in\ncouplets; this is only an extract. One can scarce think of the maiden\nas walking the earth. Surely she must have reclined on some rose, or\nfloated round some lily!\n\n    \"The air is perfumed with musk, and the waters of the\n    brooks, are they not the essence of roses? This jasmine\n    bending under the weight of its flowers, this thicket\n    of roses shedding its perfume, seem like the divinities\n    of the garden. Wherever Menisched, the daughter of\n    Afrariab, appears, we find men happy. It is she who\n    makes the garden as brilliant as the sun; the daughter\n    of an august monarch, is she not a new star? She is the\n    brilliant star that rises over the rose and jasmine.\n    Peerless beauty! her features are veiled, but the\n    elegance of her figure rivals the cypress. Her breath\n    spreads the perfume of amber around her; upon her cheek\n    reposes the rose. How languishing are her eyes! Her\n    lips have stolen their color from the wine, but their\n    odor is like the essence of roses.\"--_Translated from\n    Sismonde de Sismondi._\n\nNor is it only love which levies this tribute on flowers. We subjoin\nan extract from Mesihi, another poet whose fame is world-wide: Mesihi\nthe irresistible!--who paints in many a lyric, with graphic touch,\nthe fascinations of beauty, and in the concluding verse of one of\nthem (with happy self-complacency) thus soliloquizes:\n\n      \"Thou art a nightingale with a sweet voice,\n      O Mesihi! when thou walkest with the damsels\n          Whose cheeks are like roses!\"\n\nIn the following subject, flowers would be expected, but in the long\npoem of which this is only a part they are truly--the whole:\n\n\nODE TO SPRING.\n\n    Thou hearest the song of the nightingale, that the\n    vernal season approaches. The spring has spread a bower\n    of joy in every grove; where the almond-tree sheds its\n    silver blossoms.\n\n              Be cheerful; be full of mirth;\n      For the spring soon passes away, it will not last.\n\n    The groves and hills are again adorned with all sorts\n    of flowers. A pavilion of roses as a seat of pleasure\n    is raised in the garden; who knows which of us will\n    live when the fair season ends?\n\n              Be cheerful; etc., etc.\n\n    Again the dew glitters on the leaves of the lily like\n    the water of a bright scymitar. The dew-drops fall\n    through the air on the garden of roses; listen to me\n    if thou wouldst be delighted.\n\n              Be cheerful; etc., etc.\n\n    The time is past when the plants were sick, and the\n    rosebud hung its head on its bosom. The season comes in\n    which mountains and steeps are covered with tulips.\n\n              Be cheerful; etc., etc.\n\n    Each morning the clouds shed gems over the rose\n    gardens. The breath of the gale is Tartarian musk. Be\n    not neglectful of duty through too great love of the\n    world.\n\n              Be cheerful; etc., etc.\n\n                           _Mesihi, trans. by Sir W. Jones._\n\nFlowers are beautiful--but such a profusion of them in print is not\ncongenial to our northern tastes, despite other testimony in the\nenthusiasm of some oriental scholars. Of course, for those who are\nso happy as to read the originals there is a charm which is lost in\ntranslation--but there is good reason why we fail to sympathize.\nHemmed in by cold and snow half the year, thought, passion, and deep\nfeelings seek expression through channels not made of things visible;\nand their tides are not the less deep and strong because less\ndemonstrative. The passionate and imaginative literature of the East\nis the outpourings of the soul under circumstances widely different\nfrom those under which similar effusions here (and some of the most\nimpassioned and eloquent, too) have been penned. Each calls forth\ndifferent tropes and figures--and if it is difficult for the one side\nto stir up imagination to untiring flights through rose-gardens,\nequally would the poet of Negaristan find it impossible to picture\nthe charms of his mistress, and die of love or despair, before a\ncoal-fire in the lamp-light.\n\nWho can hear of roses without calling up an image of the nightingale,\nor, in Eastern phrase, the Bulbul? The mutual loves of the two\n(for roses can love there) have made the theme of tales and songs\nwithout number. Whether the story is fact or fiction--whether the\nbird really pours forth its most thrilling notes in the atmosphere\nof that perfume, may be a disputed point with \"outside barbarians,\"\nbut with native writers the belief is fully accepted. Here, again,\nthe repetition is wearisome; and here, again, it is pleasant to\nblame--not our lack of imagination, but our peculiar surroundings;\nfor, alas! our vault empyrean is colorless or cloudy; the melodious\nBulbul a thing to dream of; and the song, generally, only a prosaic\ntranslation!\n\nThe southwestern part of Asia is the land of spices, frankincense,\nand myrrh. It is also the land of sweet flowers, although few modern\ntravellers say much about them. One reason, perhaps, is that the\nextreme heat obliges the stranger to rest most of the day, and night\nis for stars, not flowers.\n\nBut who ever associates flowers with Arabia? Is it the prolonged\nand baleful influence of that little wood-cut map which monopolized\na whole page in infantile geography--the map which presents Arabia\narrayed in dots, which we were then and there informed meant desert?\nOr is it the omnipresent muffled figures, camels, and tents which\ntypify Arabia in all books devoted to juveniles? Whatever the cause,\nArabia and Arabians always come to mind sandy and wandering.\n\nNot so the Arabia which Niebuhr traversed in the last part of the\nlast century, with most ample opportunities for information.\n\nArabia, he writes, enjoys almost constant verdure. It is true,\nmost of the trees shed their leaves, and annual plants wither and\nare reproduced; but the interval between the fall of old leaves\nand the reappearance of others is so short that it is scarcely\nobservable.[55]\n\nHere are found most of the plants of two zones. On the high lands,\nthose of Europe and Northern or rather Middle Asia; on the plains,\nthose of India and Africa, not precisely identical with those of\nEurope, but a different species or variety. Delicious and abundant\nalso are all kinds of tropical fruits; and so plentiful the melons\nthat they serve as food for their camels. From Arabia were also first\nbrought many of those plants which we cultivate as curiosities rather\nthan for beauty--the _cactus_ tribe. One of the most remarkable has\nits stem expanded to a globular form, about the size of a man's\nhead; this rests on the earth, and from it proceed branches bearing\nflowers. In seeking for the most showy flowers, we must turn to\ntheir forest trees. Their forests are not very extensive, and such\nas they have are rarely seen by strangers, being quite distant from\nthe usual course of travel. But the majestic height of the trees,\ncovered with bright-colored and fragrant blossoms, are in marked\ncontrast to our own forest trees, whose flowers, generally, can\nscarcely be distinguished from the leaves. One kind, the _keura_,\nis so very fragrant that a small blossom will perfume an entire\napartment. Among small sweet plants is the _panicratum_, something\nlike the sea-daffodil, of the purest white; an _hibiscus_, of the\nmost brilliant red; and the _moscharia_, which gives from leaves and\nflowers the perfume of musk. But a catalogue of their names alone\nwould exceed our limits.\n\n    \"With these glorious blossoms,\" says Mr. Niebuhr,\n    \"the peasantry retain the ancient custom of crowning\n    themselves on certain days of joy and festivity.\"\n\nThere is poetry in this custom. \"It is said that this nation alone\nhas produced more poets than all others united\" (_Sismondi_). Arabia\nshares more than flowers with the rest of Asia; she, too, joins to\nthem poetry. Her people have the same fertile imagination, aversion\nto the restraints of cities, love of freedom and of nature, quick\nfeelings and ardent passions, which make the true poet. The day is\npast--even so long past that they have forgotten it--when all this\nfound expression in compositions, which we read now, and marvel at\ntheir rich inventions and glowing imagery; but, nevertheless, they\nare poets still! A distinguished French author writes:\n\n    \"Through the whole extent of the Mohammedan dominions,\n    in Turkey, Persia, and even to the extremity of India,\n    a numerous class of Arabs, both men and women, find\n    a livelihood in reciting these tales to crowds who\n    delight to forget their annoyances in the pleasing\n    dreams of imagination. In the coffee-houses of the\n    Levant, one of these men will gather a silent crowd\n    around him, whom he will excite, by his tale, to terror\n    or pity; but more frequently he will picture to his\n    audience those brilliant and fantastic visions which\n    are the patrimony of Eastern imaginations. The public\n    squares of cities abound with these story-tellers,\n    who fill up, too, the dull hours of the seraglio.\n    Physicians recommend them often to their patients, to\n    soothe pain or induce sleep; and those accustomed to\n    the sick modulate their voices and soften their tones\n    as slumber steals over the sufferer.\"\n\nSeven of the most remarkable old Arabian poems, written in gold,\nare hung in the Caaba, or Temple, at Mecca; and the authors show\nthemselves not in the least degree behind other orientals in heaping\nup flowers and metaphors.\n\nFlowers were once held, in Arabia, of high importance in science.\nNext to the sciences of mathematics, they valued that of medicine;\nand many volumes were written on their medical plants. Somewhere\nabout the year 941, Aben-al-Be\u00efther made a botanical tour over Europe\nand Asia, and a part of Africa, and, on his return, published a\nvolume _On the Virtues of Plants_. Still earlier than this, in 775,\nAl-Mansour, the second prince of the Abassides, invited a Greek\nphysician to his court, and obtained through him translations of many\nlearned Greek works on medicinal plants. Such are flowers in Asia.\n\nIt is no wonder that, where nature has lavished her choicest\nproductions, and all classes delight in cultivating them, flowers\nhave increased _ad infinitum_. No wonder their brilliant hues\ninspired a native poet to sing:\n\n      \"A rainbow has descended on the garden.\"\n                                                   _Mesihi._\n\n\nII.\n\nThe little colony who passed from Asia to Egypt and first peopled\nthat portion of the Mediterranean shore, in that time so long\npast--time without a date--must have carried with them many of their\nnative plants; for several found indigenous only in India are found\ncultivated there. Among others is the Nymph\u00e6 nelumbo, the Lotus. This\nbore in India a sacred character; the Hindoo fable taught that the\nlittle god of love, their Cupid, was first seen floating down the\nGanges on a lotus leaf. In very many ways this flower is interwoven\nwith the Hindoo creed, or introduced in their literature--as in the\nfollowing. It is part of a sublime _Hymn to Narayena_, in which that\ngreat Invisible is thus addressed:\n\n      \"Omniscient spirit! whose all-ruling power\n        Bids from each sense bright emanations beam,\n        Glows in the rainbow, sparkles in the stream,\n      Smiles in the bud, and glistens in the flower\n        That crowns each vernal bower!\"\n\n--and the radiant being, dazzling and beautiful, who springs to life\nand typifies the material universe,\n\n                  \"Heavenly pensive on the lotus lay,\n      That blossomed at his touch, and shed a golden ray.\"[56]\n\nIn Egypt, when carried thither, it naturally retained a sort of\nsacred character. It is represented in their paintings and sculptures\nmore frequently than any other plant; in scenes of festivity and\nprocessions, where it is twined with other flowers into wreaths\nand chaplets; and also in sacred scenes. Mr. Wilkinson describes a\npainting found at Thebes, in which is represented the final judgment\nof a human being:\n\n    \"Osiris is seated on a throne, as judge of the dead.\n    He is attended by Isis and Nepthys, and before him are\n    the four Genii of Amenti, standing on a _Lotus_. Horus\n    introduces the deceased whose actions have been weighed\n    in the scales of Truth.\"\n\nLotus buds have been often found in the old tombs. It was also\nintroduced into their architecture. The most favorite capital for\na column was a full-blown water-plant, supposed to be the papyrus,\nwith a bud of the same, or a lotus bud. A large variety of it called\nLotomelia is cultivated there still in gardens.\n\nWithin the last few years, some information has been gathered\nrelating to the domestic life of the early Egyptians, which was\npreviously only conjecture. To use the words of Sir J. G. Wilkinson:\n\"It has been drawn from a comparison of the paintings, sculptures,\nand monuments still existing, with the accounts of ancient authors.\"\n\nOn fragments of stone in different degrees of preservation, taken\nfrom the ruins of temples, tombs, and dead cities, are found\nrepresentations of those who once stood here, surrounded by all the\nwealth and glory, the luxuries and magnificence of which this is the\nwreck. Cut in lines which time has not all effaced, or traced in\ncolors which centuries have scarcely dimmed, we see here master and\nslave, kings, priests, and people, in all the occupations of ordinary\nlife--a half-obliterated record of the pursuits, customs, habits,\nand tastes of a nation so remote that their place in the past cannot\nbe even conjectured. We only know, from unmistakable evidence, that\nthey came originally from Asia, and lived thus in the land of Egypt.\nLooking at these fragments of their skilful workmanship, thought goes\nback to an era almost fabulous! For who can call up even in fancy\nthat period, when the Nile ran through its primitive landscape, and\nno foot of man had pressed its shore! When no cities stood in that\nfertile valley, and the first stone of the first pyramid was not\nyet laid! What a space of time must have elapsed between the first\nlanding and the accomplishment of all these mighty labors! There is a\nmist over it all, gathered through uncounted centuries; and although\nscience and research have thrown some light, it is not much more than\nthe flickering torch with which one walks at midnight; a little is\nrevealed near at hand, but all beyond is darkness.\n\nNevertheless, so much of interest is connected with Egypt that the\nleast added knowledge is of value; for not only is it mentioned by\nthe most ancient profane writers as mysterious in antiquity even\nto them, but it is the land of the Old Testament. Mounds of ruins,\ngreat in height and extent, on a branch of the Nile, yet mark the\nplace of _Tanis_,[57] the _Zoan_ of Scripture, where, according\nto the Psalmist, Moses wrought those miracles which ended in the\nexodus of the Jews. On paintings found at Theb\u00e6, the _No-Ammon_ of\nScripture, are representations of slaves engaged in making bricks,\nwith taskmasters superintending them; and although these may not be\nJews, for brick-making was a universal menial occupation, it carries\nus back to the days when \"bricks without straw\" were demanded. The\ndeparture of the Israelites from bondage, B.C. 1491, was in the\nreign of Thotmes III., the Pharaoh of Scripture, which records his\ndestruction in that day, when,\n\n    \"Pharaoh went in on horseback with his chariots and\n    horsemen into the sea; and the Lord brought back upon\n    them the waters of the sea, ... neither did so much as\n    one of them remain, ... and they (the Israelites) saw\n    the Egyptians dead upon the sea-shore.\"\n\nIt is remarkable that a drawing found at Thebes represents his son\nAmenoph, who succeeded him, as coming to the throne a mere child,\nunder the guidance of his mother. But we digress too far.\n\nAmong other things learned by patient research, we perceive the\nadmiration of the early Egyptians for flowers, and the care with\nwhich they cultivated them. \"Flowers are represented on their\ndresses, chairs, boxes, boats, on everything susceptible of\nornamentation; and flowers and leaves are painted on the linen found\npreserved in the tombs\" (_Wilkinson_).\n\nPliny, in enumerating the flowers of ancient Egypt, says the myrtle\nis the most odoriferous; the reason, doubtless, for its being so\noften placed, as now found, about the dead. At present it is only\ncultivated in gardens. The other plants Pliny names as indigenous\nare the violet, rose, myosotis, clematis, chrysanthemum, and indeed\nnearly the whole catalogue of a modern garden. Figures on their\npaintings are decked with crowns and garlands of anemone, acacia,\nconvolvulus, and some others. In the old tombs are found date-trees,\nsycamores, and the tamarisk.\n\nThere is a design at Thebes which represents the funeral procession\nof one evidently of rank. There are cars covered with palm branches,\nthen female mourners, other personages, and next a coffin on a sledge\ndecked with flowers.\n\nIn another very extensive and elaborate painting a similar procession\nis represented as crossing the _lake of the dead_, and going from\nthence to the tombs. The first boat contains coffins decked with\nflowers; in another is a high-priest, who offers incense before a\ntable of offerings; another boat contains female mourners, others\nmale mourners, and others chairs, boxes, etc.\n\n    \"Gardens are frequently represented in the tombs of\n    Thebes and other parts of Egypt, many of which are\n    remarkable for their extent.\" (_Wilkinson._)\n\nTo better understand an ancient Egyptian garden, we will first look\nat their dwellings. In some few cities where the size and something\nlike a plan can be distinguished, the streets are seen, some of\nthem wide, but more very narrow. Their houses, garden-walls, public\nplaces, all but the temples, were of brick. The plan of the houses\nwas similar to what now prevails in warm climates; the principal\napartments were ranged round a courtyard, with chambers above them.\nIn this court were a few trees, some boxes of flowering-plants, and\na reservoir of water. Their houses were generally three stories in\nheight.\n\n    \"Besides these town-houses, the wealthy Egyptians had\n    extensive villas, containing spacious gardens, watered\n    by canals communicating with the Nile. They had also\n    tanks of water in different parts of this garden, which\n    served for ornament, and also for irrigation when the\n    Nile was low. On these the master of the place amused\n    himself and friends by excursions in a pleasure-boat.\"\n\nSuch a scene is represented in an old painting. The company are\nseated in the boat under a canopy; while slaves, or at least menials,\nwalk along the bank and drag it after them, in a way similar to our\ncanal navigation.\n\n    \"So fond were the Egyptians of trees and flowers, and\n    of gracing their gardens with all the profusion that\n    could be obtained, that they exacted a tribute of\n    rare productions from the nations tributary to them;\n    foreigners from distant countries are represented as\n    bearing plants, among other presents, to the Egyptian\n    kings.\"[58]\n\nTo ancient Egypt we are doubtless indebted for the invention of\nartificial flowers, now so prominent in female attire. They were made\nthere first from the papyrus, the plant of which paper was made.\nSome old writer relates that, when Agesilaus was in Egypt, he was\nso charmed with a kind of crowns and chaplets which he saw in use\nthere, formed to resemble flowers, that he carried many of them home\nwith him to Sparta. They were perhaps imitated in Greece and became\nuniversal, yet retained the name of the inventors; for Pliny says:\n\n    \"Sic coronis e floribus receptis paulo mox sabiere qu\u00e6\n    vocantur \u00c6gypti\u00e6, ac deinde hibern\u00e6, quum terra flores\n    negat, ramento e comibus tincto.\"--_Plin._ xxi. 3.\n\nEverything that pictures the domestic life of this people has such\ngreat interest that it is difficult to avoid digression. Every record\nof it expresses wealth and their peculiar tastes. Walls are profusely\ncovered with various designs, doors are stuccoed to imitate costly\nwood, and their carved chairs have furnished symmetrical copies to\nmodern art. Interspersed with these things, we have these traces of\ntheir flowers and gardens--a story of their rural pleasures in that\nday of glory, when they built the pyramids--that day which has no\ndate! The hieroglyphics carved in stone, on which they doubtless\nsecurely relied for fame and a name to the end of time, yet cover\nthe walls still standing of their superb temples; they are traced on\ntombs--on urns--on the rocks which surround cities--on the sarcophagi\nof the dead, even on the very linen which envelopes them--but they\nspeak in a lost language! We comprehend only one brief epitaph--that\na numerous and opulent people have entirely disappeared.\n\nIn the middle ages, Egypt was still noted for flowers and valuable\naromatic shrubs and herbs. Cyrene in the north part was remarkable\nfor the beauty of its adjacent country, which even then, says a\nwriter, bore traces of having been in former times a perfect\nflower-garden.\n\nIn the time of Julius C\u00e6sar, roses must have received particular\nattention and extensive cultivation, for we read that a ship-load\nof the most fragrant was sent as a gift to C\u00e6sar. He received them,\nhowever, with the graceless remark that he could show finer ones in\nRome.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[49] _Diod._ ii. 13\n\n[50] Sir W. Jones.\n\n[51] \"It is a sin to think of the future.\"\n\n[52] Mr. Vamb\u00e9ry's _Central Asia_.\n\n[53] _Olivier de S\u00e8vres._ Introduction to edition of 1804\n\n[54] See translation by Sir W. Jones. London edition, 13 vols.\n\n[55] Niebuhr's _Arabia_, vol. ii.\n\n[56] Translation of Sir W. Jones.\n\n[57] Anthon's _Anc. and Medi\u00e6val_, p. 735.\n\n[58] See illus. Lond. ed. of Sir T. G. Wilkinson's _Anc. Egyp._\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nNEW FRIENDS\n\nEnough is not only as good as a feast, it is better; and a little\nless than enough is better yet. How dear is that affection in which\nwe have something to forgive! How charming is that beauty where the\ndefects serve as indices to point out how great the beauty is! How\nwholesome is that salt of labor which gives a taste to leisure! For\nsince the time of Eve, the point of perfection, save with God, has\nbeen the point of decay; and profuse wealth has often deprived its\npossessor of great riches.\n\nWhat we arrive at by this preamble is that the Yorkes had been\nunconsciously suffering from the apathy of satisfied wants, and were\nnow delighted to find that comparative poverty brings many a pleasure\nin its train.\n\n\"Mamma,\" Clara exclaimed, \"I do believe there is a certain pleasure\nin making the best of things.\"\n\nIt was the morning after their arrival, and the young woman was\nstanding in a chair, driving a nail to hang on a picture. She had\nbegun by groaning at sight of the wall, a white stucco painted over\nwith brown flower-pots, holding blossoming rose-trees. But the cord\nof the frame matched those roses, and in some unexplained way the\npicture looked well on that background.\n\nMrs. Yorke, looking on, smiled at the remark. \"There is a very\ncertain pleasure in it, my dear,\" she said; \"and I am glad that you\nhave found it out.\"\n\nClara considered, gave the nail another blow, evened the picture, and\ncontemplated it with her head on one side. It was an engraving of Le\nBrun's picture of Alexander at the camp of Darius. \"Mamma,\" she began\nagain, \"I think that Alexander the Great ought to have had another\nname after the adjective.\"\n\n\"What name, child?\"\n\n\"Goose! Why didn't he, instead of crying for more worlds to conquer,\ntry to get at the inside of the one he had conquered the husk of? Why\ndid not he study botany, geology, and--poverty?\"\n\n\"You are right, Clara,\" the mother replied. \"Excess is always\nblinding. Why, we might have our whole house covered with\nmorning-glories, yet never see the little silver tree that stands\ndown in a garden of light at the bottom of each.\"\n\nClara clapped her hands with delight. \"But fancy the house covered\nfrom top to bottom with morning-glories all in bloom! It would be\nmagical!\"\n\n\"Fancy yourself falling out of that chair,\" suggested Mrs. Yorke.\n\nThe girl stepped down, and walked thoughtfully toward the door. \"How\nodd it is,\" she said, pausing on the threshold, and looking back; \"I\nnever see one truth, but immediately I perceive another looking over\nits shoulder. And the last is greater than the first.\"\n\n\"It is perhaps an example of truth which you see at first,\" Mrs.\nYorke said. \"And afterward you perceive the truth itself.\"\n\nClara went slowly toward the stairs, and her mother listened after\nher, expecting to hear some philosophical remark flung down over the\nbalusters. Instead of that, she heard a loud call to Betsey that the\nhens and chickens were all in the parlor, screams of laughter at the\nscene of their violent expulsion, then a clear lark-song as Clara\nfinished her ascent.\n\nUp-stairs, Melicent and Hester were busy and cheerful, quiet, too,\ntill Clara came. She soon created a breeze, and sounds of eager\ndiscussion came down to their mother's ears. They were laying plans\nfor the summer. They would have company down from Boston, and, when\nwinter came, would each in turn visit the city. They would have more\nhelp in the house; and, in order to pay for it, would write for\npublication. Every one else wrote; why not they? Indeed, Melicent\nhad appeared in print, a friendly editor having taken with thanks\nsome sketches she had written between drive and opera. \"What is worth\nprinting is worth paying for,\" she said now; \"and I shall feel no\nreluctance in announcing that in future my Pegasus runs for a purse.\"\n\nClara had never been before the public; but she had reams of paper\nwritten over with stories, poems, plays, and even sermons. She caught\nfire at everything, and, in the first excitement, dashed off some\ncrude composition, but seldom or never went over it coolly. Melicent,\nto whom alone she showed her productions, had discouraged her. \"You\nare like Nick Bottom, and insist on doing everything,\" she said. \"It\nis a sign of incompetence.\"\n\nMiss Yorke was one of those hyper-fastidious persons who establish\na reputation for critical ability simply by finding fault with\neverything. Clara, on the contrary, was supposed to have a defective\ntaste, because she was always admiring, and searching out hidden\nbeauties.\n\nBut now at least Melicent condescended to admit that her sister might\nbe able to accomplish something in a small way, and it was agreed\nthat they should broach the subject to the assembled family that very\nevening.\n\nAt this encouragement, Clara rejoiced. \"You see,\" she exclaimed,\n\"I've been afraid that I might gradually grow into one of those\nlugubrious Dorcases who go round laying everybody out.\"\n\nEdith, following her aunt and cousins about, rejoiced in everything.\nTo her, this house, with its rat-holes and its dingy paint and\nplaster, was superb. The space, the sunshine, the air of elegance in\nspite of defects, the gentle voices and ways, all enchanted her. She\nfound herself at home. Her own room was the last bubble on her cup\nof joy. They had given her the middle chamber over the front door,\nwith a window opening out on to the portico, and each of the family\nhad contributed some article of use or adornment. Mrs. Yorke gave an\nalabaster statuette of the Blessed Virgin, Mr. Yorke a Douay Bible,\nMelicent hung an engraving of the Sistine Madonna where Edith's first\nwaking glance would fall upon it, Clara gave an olive-wood crucifix\nfrom Jerusalem, with a shell for holy water, Hester brought an ivory\nrosary, and Carl a missal in Latin and French, which she must learn\nto read, he said.\n\nThey covered the floor with a soft Turkey carpet, set up a little\niron bed, and draped it whitely, and put a crimson valance over\nthe lace curtain of her window. The sisters worked sweetly and\nharmoniously in fitting up this bower for their young cousin, and\nwere pleased to see her delight in what to them were common things.\nWhen she gratefully embraced each one, and kissed her on both cheeks,\nthey felt more than repaid. Clara blushed up with pleasure at her\ncousin's caress.\n\n\"The little gypsy has taking ways,\" Carl thought; and he said, \"If\nyou kiss Clara that way many times, she will have roses grow in her\ncheeks.\"\n\nThen Edith went down-stairs to her aunt, and Carl went out to assist\nhis father.\n\nMr. Yorke was no exception to the general cheerfulness. He found\nhimself more interested, while planning his summer's work with\nPatrick, than he had ever been while engaged in the finest landscape\ngardening, with an artist at his orders. Early in the morning he\nhad captured two boys who were loitering about, and they willingly\nengaged themselves for the day to pick up wheel-barrow loads of small\nstones, and throw them into the mud of the avenue.\n\n\"Mr. Yorke has got himself into business,\" Patrick remarked to Carl.\n\"That avenue has a wonderful appetite of its own.\"\n\nCarl repeated this observation to his father. \"And I think Pat is\nright,\" he added. \"See how complacently that mud takes in all you\nthrow to it. It seems to smile over the last load of pebbles.\"\n\nMr. Yorke put up his eye-glasses. He always did that when he wished\nto intensify a remark or a glance. \"I intend to make these avenues\nsolid, if I have to upset the whole estate into them,\" he remarked.\n\nMrs. Yorke sat in a front window holding an embroidery-frame, and\nEdith occupied a stool at her feet. The child had told all her story;\nher recollections of her mother, her life with the Rowans, of Captain\nCary, and her ring. But of Mr. Rowan's burial she said nothing. That\nwas to remain a secret with those who had assisted.\n\nWhen Mrs. Yorke occasionally dropped her work, and sat looking out\nat her husband and son, Edith caressed the hand lying idly on that\nglowing wool, and held her own slender brown fingers beside those\nfair ones, for a contrast. She could not enough admire her aunt's\nsnow-drop delicacy, rich hair, and soft eyes.\n\nMr. Yorke was too much engrossed to notice his wife; but Carl looked\nup now and then for a glance and smile.\n\n\"Do you recollect anything that happened when you were a little girl,\nAunt Amy?\" Edith asked.\n\nThe lady smiled and sighed in the same breath. \"I was this moment\nthinking of a tea-party I had on that large rock you can just see at\nthe right. I had heard my father read _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, and\nmy fancy was captivated by it. So I invited Titania, Oberon, and all\nthe fairies, and they came. It was an enchanting banquet. The plates\nwere acorn-cups, the knives and forks were pine-needles, the cakes\nwere white pebbles, and we drank drops of dew out of moss vases.\"\n\n\"I've read that play too,\" Edith said brightly. \"Mr. Rowan had it.\nAnd I read about Ariel. But I didn't like Caliban nor Bottom, and I\nthink it was a shame to cheat Titania so. Do you remember anything\nelse?\"\n\n\"Yes. When I was five or six years old, my father brought home a new\nmap of the State of Maine, and hung it on that wall opposite. It was\nbright and shining, and had the name in great letters across the\nwhole. My father held me up before it in his arms, and said I should\nhave a silver quarter if I would tell him what the great letters\nspelt. How I tried! not so much for the silver, though I wanted it,\nas for the honor of success, and to please my father. But I couldn't\nmake less than two syllables of it. To me M, A, I, N, E, spelt Main\u00e9.\nBut my father gave me the quarter. I suppose he thought that the\nlanguage, and not I, was at fault.\"\n\n\"I don't see why letters should be put into words when they are not\nneeded there,\" Edith remarked. \"I would like to have them left out.\nIt makes a bother, and takes time.\"\n\nThe child did not know that she was uttering revolutionary\nsentiments, and that the reddest of red republicanism lurked in her\nspeech.\n\nMrs. Yorke mused over her embroidery, set a golden stitch in a\nviolet, drew it too tightly, and had to loosen it.\n\n\"Oh!\" Edith exclaimed, her memory catching on that thread. \"That\nmakes me recollect that I knit a tight strip into the heel of Mr.\nRowan's stocking, and I can see just how it looked. But I didn't know\nit then.\"\n\nThere was a sound of wheels, and Mrs. Yorke looked up to see a\ncarriage drawn by a pair of greys coming up the avenue. Major\nCleaveland had lost no time in calling on his neighbors.\n\nMr. Yorke went down to meet his visitor, the road being too\npenitential for travel, and the two walked up together. They had\nknown each other by sight in Boston, where the major spent his\nwinters, but had no farther acquaintance. Now they met cordially,\nand stood a while talking in the portico before going in to see the\nladies. Major Cleaveland was fresh-faced, pleasant-looking, and\nrather pompous in manner. A deep crape on his hat proclaimed him a\nwidower. Indeed, Mrs. Cleaveland had not long survived young Mrs.\nYorke, and the two had, ere this, let us hope, amicably settled the\nquestion of precedence.\n\nThe visit was an agreeable one to all, though it was evident that the\nvisitor felt more at ease with the ladies than with his host. He was\nslightly disconcerted by Mr. York's piercing eyes, aquiline nose,\nand emphatic mode of speech, and on the whole found him rather too\ndominant in manner. It appeared that there were to be two lords in\nSeaton instead of one.\n\nWe doubt if the most amiable of Bengal lions would be altogether\npleased at seeing his proper jungle invaded by even the politest of\nNubian lions; and we may be pretty sure that the lioness would hear\nin private more than one remark detrimental to the dignity of that\nodious black monster with his desert manners. And in return, it is\nnot unlikely that the African desert-king might sneer at his tawny\nbrother as rather an effeminate creature. It is not the lionesses\nalone who have rivalries. Certain it is that, when Major Cleaveland\nhad gone, and the ladies chose to praise him very highly, Melicent\npronouncing him to be a superior person, Mr. Yorke saw fit to greet\nthe remark with one of his most disagreeable smiles.\n\n\"Don't you think so, papa?\" asks Melicent.\n\n\"He has intellectual tastes, but no intellectual power,\" answered\n\"papa\" most decidedly. \"He has glimmerings.\"\n\nBut for all that, the call was a pleasant one, the gentleman\nlingering half an hour, and then going with reluctance. The presence\nof Edith had caused him a momentary embarrassment. He was not sure\nthat it would be delicate to remember having ever seen her before,\nand yet her smiling eyes seemed to expect a recognition. But Mrs.\nYorke brought her forward immediately. \"Edith tells me you are an\nacquaintance,\" she said, \"and that you have been very kind to her.\"\n\nBefore going, Major Cleaveland placed his pews in the meeting-house\nat their disposal, and offered to send a carriage for them the next\nmorning. \"I have two of the best pews in Dr. Martin's church,\" he\nsaid, \"and since my boys went away to school, there has been no one\nbut myself to occupy them. There is room in each for six persons; and\nI sit in one, and put my hat in the other. Of course, we look like\ntwo oases in a red velvet desert. Do come, ladies, and make a garden\nof the place.\"\n\nThey all went out to the portico with him when he took leave, and he\nwent away charmed with their cordiality, and with several new ideas\nin his mind. One of the first effects of this enlightenment was that\nthe major appeared at meeting the next day without a crape on his hat.\n\nIt was a fatiguing day, that Saturday; but at sunset their labors\nwere over, all but arranging the books. The boxes containing these\nMr. Yorke had brought into the sitting-room after tea, and the young\npeople assisted him. He classified his library in a way of his own.\nMetaphysical works he placed over science, since \"metaphysics is only\nphysics etherized,\" he said. One shelf, named the Beehive, was filled\nwith epigrams and satires. History and fiction were indiscriminately\nmingled. Mr. Yorke liked to quote Fielding--\"pages which some droll\nauthors have been facetiously pleased to call the history of England.\"\n\n\"There are certain time-honored lies which every intelligent and\nwell-informed person is expected to be familiar with,\" he said. \"Not\nto know Hume, De Foe, Fox, Cervantes, Froude, Le Sage, etc., argues\none's self unknown.\"\n\nIn a corner of the case was the Olympus where Mr. Yorke's especial\nintellectual favorites were placed--among them Bolingbroke, Carlyle,\nEmerson, and Theodore Parker. \"They are fine pagans,\" he said of the\ntwo last.\n\nMrs. Yorke mused in the chimney-corner, her head resting on her hand,\nthe smouldering fire throwing a faint glow up in her face. Edith sat\nby a table looking over William Blake's illustrations of Blair's\n_Grave_--a set of plates that had just been sent them from England.\nThe daughters took books from the boxes, and called their names;\nCarl, mounted on steps, placed the upper ones; and Mr. Yorke did\neverything they did, and more. He scolded, ordered, commented, and\nnow and then opened a book to read a passage, or give an opinion of\nthe author.\n\n\"Don't put Robert Browning beside Crashaw!\" he cried out. \"You might\nas well put Lucifer beside St. John.\"\n\n\"Why, I thought you admired Browning, papa,\" Melicent said.\n\n\"So I do; but half his lustre is phosphorescent. It is a spiritual\ndecay, and the lightnings of a superb mind. But Crashaw is an angel.\nEdith must read him.\"\n\nLooking at such a library, a Catholic remembers well that the serpent\nstill coils about the tree of knowledge, hisses in the rustling of\nit, and poisons many a blossom with his breath. Worse yet, though\nthe antidote is near, few or none take it. Those for whom slanders\nagainst the church are written, never read the refutation. How many\nwho read in Motley's _Dutch Republic_ that absolutions were sold in\nGermany at so many ducats for each crime, the most horrible crimes,\neither committed or to be committed, having an easy price--how\nmany of those readers ask if it be true, or glance at a page which\ndisproves the slander? Who on reading Prescott looks to the other\nside to see exposed his insinuations, his false deductions from true\nfacts? How many of those countless thousands who have been nurtured\non the calumnies of Peter Parley, drawing them in from their earliest\nchildhood, have ever read a page on which his condemnation is\nwritten? And later, in the periodical literature of the day, with a\nthousand kindred attacks, how many of those who, within a few months,\nhave read in the _Atlantic Monthly_ Mrs. Child's impertinent article\non Catholicism and Buddhism, stopped to see that her argument,\nsuch as it was, was directed less against the church than against\nChristianity itself? or looked in Marshall's _Christian Missions_ to\nfind that the resemblance is simply a reflection of the early labors\nof the only missionaries who have ever influenced Asia--the faint\nechoes of \"the voice of one crying in the wilderness\"?\n\nBut it is vain to multiply names. \"The trail of the serpent is over\nthem all.\"\n\nThe books in their places, Mr. Yorke seated himself to look over a\ncasket of precious coins and rings. \"Wouldn't you think that papa was\ndreaming over some old love-token of his boyhood?\" whispered Clara to\nher brother.\n\nHer father had fallen into a dream over an old ring with a Latin\nposy in it; and what he saw was this: a blue sky, jewel-blue, over\nFlorence, in whose air, says Vasari, \"lies an immense stimulus to\naspire after fame and honor.\" He saw a superb garden, peopled with\nsculptured forms, and three men standing before an antique marble. It\nis Bertoldo, Donatello's pupil, young Michael Angelo, and Lorenzo the\nMagnificent, the glory of Florence, whose face all the people and all\nthe children love; and they are walking in the gardens of San Marco,\nthe art-treasury of the Medici. Farther off, moving slowly under the\ntrees, with his hands behind his back, and his eagle face bent in\nthought, is the learned and elegant Poliziano. Suddenly he pauses, a\nsmile flashes across his face, he brings his hands forward to clap\nthem together, and goes to meet the three who have respected his\nseclusion. \"How now, Poliziano,\" laughs the duke, \"do we not deserve\nto hear the result of those musings which we were so careful not\nto intrude upon?\" And the scholar, whose epigrams no less than his\nGreek and his translations are the pride of the court, bows lowly,\nand repeats the very posy engraved on this ring over which Mr. Yorke\nnow dreams in the nineteenth century, in the woods of Maine, in April\nweather.\n\nThe bright Italian picture faded. Mr. Yorke sighed and put the\nmagical ring away, and took up a volume of Villemain's _Histoire de\nla Litt\u00e9rature Fran\u00e7aise_, turning the leaves idly.\n\nMelicent made a slight movement, and begged to be heard. \"We girls\nhave been talking matters over to-day,\" she said, \"and would like\nto submit our plans to you. We have divided the house-work into\nthree parts, which we take in rotation. One is to be lady's-maid and\ncompanion for mamma, another is to make the beds and dust all the\nrooms, and the third will set the table, wash the china and silver,\nand trim the lamps.\"\n\nMr. Yorke looked up quickly as his daughter began, but immediately\ndropped his eyes again, and sat with a flushed face, frowning\nslightly. It was his first intimation that his daughters had not only\nlost society and luxury, but that their personal ease was gone. They\nwould have to perform menial labors.\n\n\"I think your arrangement a very good one, Melicent,\" Mrs. Yorke\nreplied tranquilly. She had all the time seen the necessity. \"But the\npost of lady's-maid will be a sinecure. However, let it stay. It will\nbe a time of leisure for each.\"\n\n\"Cannot Betsey do the work?\" Mr. Yorke asked sharply.\n\n\"Why, papa!\" Clara cried out, \"Betsey can scarcely spare time out of\nthe kitchen to do the sweeping. When we come to making butter, we\ngirls will have to help in the fine ironing.\"\n\n\"I can churn!\" Mr. Yorke exclaimed desperately.\n\n\"My dear!\" expostulated his wife.\n\n\"I churned once when I was a boy,\" he protested; \"and the butter\ncame.\"\n\nThey all laughed, except Hester, who affectionately embraced her\nfather's arm. \"Why shouldn't the butter come when you churn, dear\npapa?\" she asked.\n\n\"You must have been in very good humor, sir,\" said Carl slily.\n\n\"We don't mean to do this sort of work long,\" Melicent resumed.\n\"There is no merit in doing servile work, if one can do better.\nClara and I will write, and so pay for extra help. I think\"--very\nindulgently--\"that, with practice, Clara may make something of a\nwriter. I shall write a volume of European travels. On the whole,\nlooking at our reverses in this light, they seem fortunate. Living\nhere in quiet, we can accomplish a literary labor for which we should\nnever otherwise have found time.\"\n\n\"That is true,\" Mr. Yorke said; but his look was doubtful and\ntroubled. \"Still, Melicent, I would not have you too confident.\nI would advise you to try a story. It would be more likely to\nsell. Europe _r\u00e9chauff\u00e9e_ has become a drug in the market, and our\nexperiences abroad were pretty much what those of others are. A\nvagabond adventurer would have a much better chance of catching\npublic attention.\"\n\nEdith gazed in awe at her companions. She was in the midst of people\nwho made books! She saw them face to face. So might pretty Psyche\nhave gazed when first her husband's celestial relatives received\nher, when she saw Juno among her peacocks, Minerva laying aside her\nhelmet, Hebe pouring nectar. This, then, is Olympus!\n\n\"If you write a story, do take one suggestion from me, Melicent,\"\nCarl said. \"Pray give your hero and heroine brushes to dress their\nhair with. Have you observed that even the finest characters in books\nhave to use a broom? The hair is always _swept_ back.\"\n\nMiss Yorke did not notice this triviality. She was looking rather\ndispleased.\n\n\"I don't want to discourage you, daughter,\" her father went on.\n\"But you must recollect that it is one thing to give a sketch to\nan editor, who is a friend, and dines with you, and another thing\nto offer him a book, which he is expected to pay for. Then he must\nlook to the market and his reputation. Some of the finest writers in\nthe world have described these very scenes which you would describe.\nCan you tell more of Rome than Madame de Sta\u00ebl has? or paint a more\nenchanting picture of Capri than that of Hans Andersen? If not, you\nrun the risk of reminding your reader of Sidney Smith's reply to the\ndull tourist who held out his walking-stick, boasting that it had\nbeen round the world. 'Yes; and still it is a stick!' says Sidney.\"\n\nMiss Yorke held her head very high, and her color deepened. \"I will\nthen put my MS. into the fire,\" she said in a quiet tone, casting her\neyes down.\n\nHer father gave an impatient shrug. \"Not at all!\" he replied. \"But\nyou will take advice, and try to think that you are not above\ncriticism.\"\n\n\"Clara has an idea,\" Carl interposed. He had been bending over some\npapers with his younger sister. \"She also turns to travels, but very\nmodestly. She calls them gleanings, and her motto is from De Quincey:\n'Not the flowers are for the pole, but the pole is for the flowers.'\nHere is the preface. Shall I read it?\"\n\n\"Oh! I am afraid of papa!\" Clara cried, blushing very much. But\nMr. Yorke, who only now learned that his second daughter was also\na scribbler, laughingly promised to be lenient; and she suffered\nherself to be persuaded. They all looked kindly on her, even\nMelicent, in spite of her own mortification; and Carl read:\n\n\"I do not presume to write a volume descriptive of European travel.\nMany, great and small, have been in that field, some reaping wheat,\nothers binding up tares. These leaves are offered by one who gathered\na few nodding things which no one valued, seeing them there, but\nwhich some one may, if fortune favor, smile at, since they grew\nthere. One such might say: You're but a weed; but you grew in a chink\nof crumbling history; I know where, for I measured the arch, and\nsketched the colonnade. And I recognize the green leaves of you, and\nthe silver thread of a root, with a speck of rich old soil clinging\nyet. And, _\u00e0 propos_, I saw there a child asleep in the shade, with a\ngroup of spotted yellow lilies standing guard, as if they had sprung\nup since, and because she had closed her eyes, and might change to a\ngroup of tigers if you should go too near. She had long eyelashes,\nand she smiled in her sleep.\n\n\"I do not claim to be an artist, O travelled reader! but I stretch a\nhand to touch the artist in you.\"\n\n\"That isn't bad,\" Mr. Yorke said immediately. \"And your motto is very\npretty. I am glad to have you familiar with De Quincey. He is good\ncompany. He is a man who does not overlook delicate hints, and he is\nrespectful and just to children. He annoys me sometimes by a weak\nirony, and by explaining too much; but, I repeat, he is good company.\"\n\nImmediately Clara passed from the deeps to the heights. Her bosom\nheaved, her eyes flashed. She felt herself famous.\n\n\"Now let us hear a chapter of the gleanings,\" said her father.\n\n\"Why, I haven't written anything but the preface,\" Clara was forced\nto acknowledge.\n\nMr. Yorke smiled satirically. Clara was notable in the family for\nmaking great beginnings which came to nothing.\n\n\"But I have other things finished,\" she said eagerly, and brought\nout a poem. All her fears were gone. She was full of confidence in\nherself.\n\nWe spare the reader a transcription of this production.\nMephistopheles had a good deal to do with it, and it was probably\nwritten during some midnight ecstasy, when the young woman had been\nreading Faust. It was meant to be very fearful; and as the authoress\nread it herself, all the terrible passages were rendered with\nemphasis.\n\nMrs. Yorke listened with a doubtful face. The reading was quite out\nof her gentle mental sphere; and Carl's hand shaded his eyes, which\nhad a habit of laughing when his lips did not. Mr. Yorke, with his\nmouth very much down at the corners, his eyes very much cast down,\nand his eyebrows very much raised, glanced over a page of the book in\nhis hand.\n\n\"I chanced to-night across the first touch of humor I have seen\nin Villemain,\" he said. \"He quotes Cr\u00e9billon: _'Corneille \u00e0 pris\nle ciel, Racine la terre; il ne me restait plus que l'enfer. Je\nm'y suis jett\u00e9 \u00e0 corps perdu.' 'Malheureusement,'_ says Villemain,\n_'malheureusement il n'est pas aussi infernal qu'il le croit.'_\"\n\nWithout raising his face, Mr. Yorke lifted his eyes, and shot at the\npoetess a glance over his glasses.\n\nInstantly her face became suffused with blushes, and her eyes with\ntears.\n\nMrs. Yorke spoke hastily. \"I am sure, papa, the dear girls deserve\nevery encouragement for their intentions and efforts. I am grateful\nand happy to see how nobly they are taking our troubles; and I cannot\ndoubt that, with their talents and good-will, they will accomplish\nsomething. But it is too late to talk more about it to-night. You\nmust be tired, and my head is as heavy as a poppy. Shall we have\nprayers?\"\n\nShe rose in speaking, went to the table, and, standing between her\ntwo elder daughters, with an arm round the neck of each, kissed them\nboth, tears standing in her eyes. \"If you never succeed in winning\nfame, my dears,\" she said, \"I shall still be proud and fond of you.\nYour sweet, helpful spirit is better than many books.\"\n\nThe Yorkes had never given up, though they had often interrupted,\nthe habit of family devotion. Now it was tacitly understood that\nthe custom should be a regular one. So Hester brought the Bible and\nprayer-book, and placed them before her father, and her sisters\nfolded their hands to listen.\n\n\"I think we should have Betsey in,\" Mrs. Yorke said; and Melicent\nwent to ask her.\n\nBetsey and Patrick were seated at opposite sides of a table drawn up\nbefore the kitchen fireplace, where a hard-wood knot burned in a spot\nof red gold. One of the windows was open, and through it came a noise\nof full brooks hurrying seaward, and a buzzing, as of many bees, that\ncame from the saw-mills on the river. Betsey was darning stockings,\nand Pat reading the _Pilot_.\n\n\"We are to have prayers now,\" Melicent said, standing in the door.\n\"Will you come in, Betsey?\"\n\nBetsey slowly rolled up the stocking, and stabbed the darning-needle\ninto the ball of yarn. \"Well, I don't care if I do,\" she answered\nmoderately. \"It can't do me no great harm.\"\n\nMelicent gave her a look of surprise, and returned to the\nsitting-room, leaving the doors ajar.\n\n\"Come, Pat,\" said Betsey, \"put away that old Catholic paper, and\ncome in and hear the Gospel read. I don't believe you ever heard a\nchapter of it in your life.\"\n\n\"No more did St. Peter nor St. Paul,\" answered Patrick, without\nlifting his eyes from the paper. He had been reading over and over\none little item of news from County Sligo, where he was born. The old\npriest who had baptized him was dead; and with the news of his death,\nand the description of his funeral, how many a scene of the past came\nup! He was in Ireland again, poor, but careless and happy. His father\nand mother, now old and lonely in that far land, were still young,\nand all their children were about them. The priest, a man in his\nprime, stood at their cottage door, with his hand on little Norah's\nhead. They all smiled, and Norah cast her bashful eyes down. Now the\npriest was white-haired, and dead, and little Norah had grown to be\na careworn mother of many children. The man was in no mood to hear\ntaunts. Read the Gospel? Why, it was like reading a gospel to look\nback on that group; for they were true to the faith, and poor for the\nfaith's sake, and they had lived pure lives for Christ's love, and\nthose who had died had died in the Lord.\n\n\"But Peter and Paul wrote,\" answered Betsey. \"And what they wrote is\nthe law of God. You'll never be saved unless you read it.\"\n\n\"Many a one will be damned who does read it!\" retorted Patrick\nwrathfully. \"What's the use of reading a law-book, if you don't keep\nthe law?\"\n\n\"Oh! if you're going to swear, I'll go,\" Betsey replied with dignity,\nand went. But she took care to leave the doors ajar behind her.\n\nIt was true, Patrick did not read the Bible much; but he knew the\nGospels and Psalms in the prayer-book, and was as familiar with the\ntruths of Scripture as many a Bible student. But he had heard it so\nbe-quoted by those who were to him not much better than heathen, and\nso made a bone of contention by snarling theologians, that he did not\nmuch care to read the book itself. He could not now avoid hearing it\nread without leaving the room; and he would not have had them hear\nhim show that disrespect to them.\n\nMr. Yorke's voice had a certain bitter, rasping quality, which, with\nhis fine enunciation, was very effective in some kinds of reading.\nIn the sacred Scriptures it gave an impression of grandeur and\nsublimity. Patrick dropped his paper, and listened to the story of\nthe martyrdom of St. Stephen. He knew it well, but seemed now to\nhear it for the first time. He saw no book, he heard a voice telling\nhow the martyr stood before his accusers, with \"his face as the face\nof an angel,\" and flung back their accusation upon themselves, till\n\"they were cut to the heart,\" and \"gnashed with their teeth at him.\"\n\n\"Faith!\" he muttered excitedly; \"but he had them there!\"\n\nAs Mr. Yorke went on with the story, and the saint, looking\nsteadfastly upward, declared that he saw the heavens open, and\nthe Son of Man standing at the right hand of God, Patrick rose\nunconsciously to his feet, and blessed himself. To his pure faith and\nunhackneyed imagination the scene was vividly clear. He heard the\noutcry of the multitude, saw them rush upon their victim, drive him\nout of the city and stone him, till he fell asleep in the Lord.\n\n\"'And a young man named Saul was consenting to his death,'\" said the\nvoice.\n\n\"Glory be to God!\" exclaimed Patrick, taking breath.\n\nThe prayer that followed grated on his feelings. The reader lost his\nfire, and merely got through this part of the exercises. Evidently,\nMr. Yorke did not believe that he was praying. Neither did Patrick\nbelieve that he was.\n\nThe next morning Major Cleaveland's carriage came to take them to\nwhat they called church. Melicent and Clara had already set out to\nwalk. Carl stayed at home with Edith, and only Mr. and Mrs. Yorke\nand Hester drove. They overtook the others at the steps of the\nmeeting-house, and found Major Cleaveland waiting in the porch for\nthem.\n\nMrs. Yorke was one of those sweet, unreasoning souls who fancy\nthemselves Protestant because they were born and trained to be called\nso, but who yield as unquestioning an obedience to their spiritual\nteachers as any Catholic in the world. She unconsciously obeyed the\nrecommendation, \"Don't be consistent, but be simply true.\" Absurdly\nillogical in her theology, she followed unerringly, as far as she\nknew, her instincts of worship, and the opinions that grew naturally\nfrom them. It would be hard to define what her husband thought and\nbelieved of Dr. Martin's sermon. He did not find it a feast of\nreason, certainly; but he swallowed it from a grim sense of duty,\nthough with rather a wry face. The young ladies knew about as much of\ntheology as Protestant ladies usually do, and that is--nothing. They\nleft it all to the minister; and, provided he did not require them to\nbelieve anything disagreeable, were quite satisfied with him.\n\nComing home, they entertained their brother with a laughing account\nof their experience. The major had escorted Melicent to her seat, to\nthe great amusement of the two sisters following. For Miss Yorke,\nsublimely conscious of herself, and that they were the observed of\nall observers, had walked with a measured tread, utterly irrespective\nof her companion; and the major, equally important, and slightly\nconfused by his hospitable cares, had neglected to modify his usual\nshort, quick steps. The result was, as Clara said, that \"they chopped\nup the aisle in different metres,\" thus oversetting the gravity of\nthe younger damsels following. Then their minds had been kept on\nthe rack by an old gentleman in the pew in front of them, who went\nto sleep several times, following the customary programme: first\na vacant stare, then a drooping of the eyelids, then a shutting\nof them, then several low bows, finally a sharp, short nod that\nthreatened to snap his head off, followed by a start, and a manner\nthat resentfully repudiated ever having been asleep.\n\n\"Poor old gentleman!\" Mrs. Yorke said. \"The day was warm, and Dr.\nMartin's voice lulling. How could he help it?\"\n\n\"But, mamma,\" Clara answered, \"he could have pinched himself; or I\nwould have pinched him cheerfully.\"\n\nA good many people called on them that week, and the family were\nsurprised to find among them persons of cultivated minds. Beginning\nby wondering what they were to talk about with these people, they\nfound that they had to talk their best.\n\nThey had made the mistake often made by city people, taking for\ngranted that the finest and most cultivated minds are to be found\nin town. They forgot that city life fritters away the time and\nattention by a thousand varied and trivial distractions, so that deep\nthought and study become almost impossible. They neglect to observe\nthat cities would degenerate if they were not constantly supplied\nwith fresh life from the country; that the fathers that achieve are\nfollowed by the sons that dawdle, that the artist gives birth to the\ndilettante. 'Tis the country that nurses the tree which bears its\nfruit in the city. But, also, the country often hides its treasures,\nand the poet's fancy of \"mute, inglorious Miltons\" is as true as it\nis poetical.\n\nIn the country painting and sculpture and architecture are, it is\ntrue, only guessed at; but they have nature, which, as Sir Thomas\nBrowne says, \"is the art of God;\" and books are appreciated there as\nnowhere else. The country reader dives like a bee into the poet's\nverse, and lingers to suck up all its sweetness; the city reader\nskims it like a butterfly. In the country the thinker's best thought\nis weighed, and pondered, and niched; in the city it is glanced at,\nand dismissed. In those retired nooks are women who quote Shakespeare\nover their wash-tubs, and read the English classics after the cows\nare milked, while their city sisters ponder the fashions, or listen\nto some third-rate lecturer, whose only good thought is, perhaps, a\nborrowed thought.\n\nStill, all honor to that strong, swift life which grinds a man as\nunder a millstone, and proves what is in him; which sharpens his\nsluggishness, breaks the gauze wings of him, and forces him out of a\ncoterie and into humanity.\n\nOne day Dr. Martin called. Mrs. Yorke and her daughters, with Carl,\nwere out searching for May-flowers, and there was no one at home to\nreceive him but Mr. Yorke and Edith. Dr. Martin and the child met\nwith great coldness, and instantly separated; but the two gentlemen\nkept up a conversation, though neither was quite at his ease. They\nneeded a gentler companionship to bring them together. The minister\nwas a man of good mind and education, and a kind heart; but his\nprejudices were strong and bitter, and the presence of that little\n\"papist\" disconcerted him. He soon took occasion, in answer to Mr.\nYorke's civil inquiries respecting the churches in Seaton, to give\nexpression to this feelings.\n\n\"We have, of course, a good many papists, but all of the lowest\nclass,\" he said; \"I have tried to do something for them; but they are\nso ignorant, and so enslaved by their priests, that it is impossible\nto induce them to listen to the Gospel.\"\n\nMr. Yorke drew himself up. \"Perhaps you are not aware that my niece,\nMiss Edith Yorke, is a Catholic,\" he said in his stateliest manner.\n\nEdith, standing in a window near, had not made a sound; but she\nlooked at the minister, and fired at him two shots out of her two\neyes. He in turn raised himself with an offended air at Mr. Yorke's\nreproof.\n\n\"I was certainly not aware that your sympathies were with the\npapists, sir,\" he said.\n\n\"Neither are they,\" was the cold reply. \"But I profess to be a\ngentleman, and I try to be a Christian. One of my principles is never\nto insult the religious beliefs of another.\"\n\n\"But,\" objected the minister, stifling his anger, \"if you never\nattack their errors, you lose the chance of enlightening them.\"\n\n\"Doctor,\" Mr. Yorke said with a slight laugh, \"I don't believe you\ncan ever enlighten a man's mind by pounding a hole in his head.\"\n\nAnd so they dropped that part of the subject. But Mr. Yorke thought\nit best to define his own position, and thus prevent future mistakes.\n\n\"I believe in God,\" he said. \"A man is a fool who does not. And I\nbelieve that the Bible was written by men inspired by him. But there\nis no one thing in it for the truth of which I would answer with my\nlife. It is the old fable of the divinity visiting earth wrapped\nin a cloud. Somewhere hidden in the Bible is the truth, but I see\nit as in a glass darkly. I think as little about it as possible.\nTo study would be to entangle myself in a labyrinth. It is natural\nand necessary for man to worship; but it is neither natural nor\nreasonable for him to comprehend what he worships. To take in the\ndivine, your brain must crack.\"\n\nThe minister perceived that argument was useless, and shortly after\ntook leave.\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nBOADICEA.\n\nWithin a few weeks came a letter from Mrs. Rowan to Edith. It is\nnot natural for people to write in their own way--that comes with\neducation and practice; but this letter breathed the writer's very\nself. It radiated a timid distress. She had surprising news to tell.\nInstead of being in a tenement of her own, among plain people whom\nshe would feel at ease with, she was installed as housekeeper in\nwhat seemed to her a very magnificent establishment. Mr. Williams,\nher employer, was an importing merchant, and his family consisted of\na daughter, eighteen years of age, and an awful sister-in-law who\nlived in the next street, but visited his house at all hours of day\nor evening, superintending minutely his domestic arrangements. This\ngentleman knew Major Cleaveland well, and had for many years had\nbusiness relations with Captain Cary. Indeed, it was their sailor\nfriend who had procured the situation for her, and insisted on her\ntaking it. She had refused as long as she could, but Dick himself\njoining against her, she had finally yielded. Mr. Williams was very\nkind. He had assured her that he did not want a city housekeeper, but\nsome quiet, honest countrywoman to be in the house with his daughter,\nand see that the servants did not rob him.\n\nAt the conclusion of this letter, Mrs. Rowan added that Dick sent his\nrespects, at which Edith's heart sank with disappointment. Where was\nthe hearty affection, the eager remembrance she had looked for?\n\nThe child would have been less indignant had she known what\npains Dick was really taking for her sake. He had searched out,\nand borrowed or bought all the printed correspondence of famous\nletter-writers that were to be had for love or money, and was\nstudying them as models. He had also invested extravagantly in\nstationery, and was striving to bend his clear, clerkly penmanship to\nsomething more elegant and gentlemanlike. Even while she was accusing\nhim of forgetfulness, he was carefully copying his tenth letter to\nher.\n\nBut still, Edith was not to blame, though she was mistaken. Affection\nhas no right to be silent.\n\nAfter a few days, however, came his farewell before sailing for the\nEast. Over this note, Edith shed bitter tears, as much for the manner\nas for the matter of it. For Dick, with an eye to Mrs. Yorke as a\nreader, had composed a very dignified epistle after the manner of\nDoctor Johnson. Poor Dick! who could have written the most eloquent\nletter in the world, if he had poured his heart out freely and\nsimply.\n\nThe child had scant time allowed her for mourning, for her studies\nbegan immediately. The family were all her teachers, and she began\nat once with music and languages. The common branches were taught\nindirectly. Geography she learned by looking out on the maps places\nmentioned in their reading or conversation. History she learned\nchiefly through biography. For arithmetic, some one gave her every\nday a problem to solve. She added up household expenses, measured\nland, laid out garden-beds, weighed and measured for cooking. Her\nstudy was all living: not a dead fact got into her mind. She read\na great deal besides, travels, all that she could find relating to\nthe sea, and poetry. As her mind became interested, she settled\nonce more into harmony with herself, and her feelings grew quiet.\nThe impression left by Dick's strange behavior after their parting\nfaded away, and she remembered only his last fervent protestation:\n\"I'll climb, Edith, I'll climb!\" How it was to be, and what it really\nmeant, she knew not; but the old faith in him came back. \"What Dick\nsaid he'd do, he always did.\"\n\nShe associated him with all she read or heard of foreign lands and\nwaters. He had sailed through phosphorescent seas by night, under\nwide-eyed stars, while the waves tossed in fire from his prow, and\ntrailed in fire in his wake. He had lain in the warm southern ocean,\nwhere the tides are born, had held his breath during that pause when\nall the waters of the earth hang balanced, and swung his cap as he\nfelt the first soft pulse of the infant tidal wave that was to grow\ntill its rim should cast a wreath of foam on every shore from the\nNorth Pole to the South. Palms and the banyan-tree, pines almost\nhuge enough to tip the earth over, each in turn had shaded his head.\nHis venturesome feet had trod the desert and the jungle. Jews and\nMoslems had looked after him as he sauntered through their crowded\nbazaars--the bright-eyed, laughing sailor-boy! Norsemen had smiled as\nthey saw his hair blown back and his face kindled by the tempest. It\nwas always Dick to the fore of everything.\n\nOn one of those spring mornings, Carl, wandering through the woods,\ncame out into the road in front of an old school-house that stood at\nthe edge of the village. The door was open, and showed a crowd of\nchildren at their studies inside. On the green in front of the door\nlay a log, and on the log sat a deplorable-looking little man. He\nwas neither young nor old, but seemed to be stranded on some bleak\nage which time had forgotten. His clothes were gentlemen's clothes\ncut down and patched. A hat that was too large for him reached from\nhis forehead to his neck. It was not crushed, but it was shabby,\nand drooped sorrowfully in the brim. His hair was thin and long,\nand patted down. Tears rolled over his miserable face as he sat and\nlooked in at the children saying their lessons in a long class. He\ndid not cover his face in weeping, but lifted his eyebrows, wiped the\ntears occasionally, and continued to gaze.\n\nCarl was one of the last persons in the world to intrude on another,\nor allow any intrusion on himself, but after a moment's hesitation he\nventured to approach this pitiful little figure, and ask what ailed\nhim.\n\nThe man showed no surprise on being addressed, but poured out his\ngrief at once. His name was Joseph Patten, he was poor and had a\nlarge family, and was obliged to receive town help. As a condition\nof that help, he must give up one of his children to be bound out to\nwork, or adopted into a family. The parents were allowed to choose\nwhich child they would part with, and \"Joe,\" as he was called by\neverybody, was now trying to make up his mind. His story was told in\na whimpering voice, and with many tears, and the listener was quite\nas much provoked to laugh as to weep.\n\n\"It isn't easy to part with your own flesh and blood, sir,\" said Joe.\n\"There's Sally, my oldest girl, named for her marm. She helps about\nthe house. My wife couldn't get along without Sally. The next one\nis Joseph. He's named for me; and I don't want to give up the child\nthat's named for myself, sir. Then John, he's got the rickets, and\nis used to be fed and taken care of. You couldn't expect a man to\nsend away a child that's got the rickets, and let him drop all his\nfood before he gets it to his mouth. Then Betsey, she's named for my\nmother. How am I going to send away the child that's named for my own\nmother, when she's dead and gone, and let her live among strangers?\nJane, she's homesick; she cries if she is out of her marm's sight\na minute. She'd cry herself to death if she was to be carried off.\nThen there's Jackson, named for General Jackson. You don't suppose I\ncould give away a child that's named for General Jackson! And George\nWashington, named for the father of his country. Why, I could do\nwithout any of 'em sooner than I could without George Washington. And\nPaul, he's named for the 'postle Paul. It would be a sin and a shame\nto give away a boy that's named for the 'postle Paul. And Polly,\nshe's the baby. You can't give a baby away from its own mother.\"\n\nThere had been several other children who had died, chiefly from\nunwholesome little fevers, to which they seemed addicted.\n\nCarl was unable to assist the man in his choice; but he comforted him\nsomewhat by promising to visit his family soon, and left him weeping,\nand gazing through the door at his children.\n\nThat same afternoon Carl and Melicent went out to visit Joe Patten's\nfamily. It had occurred to the young woman that she might be able to\ntrain one of the pauper's boys for a house-servant, and thus benefit\nthem and her own family at the same time.\n\nThe Pattens lived directly back of the Yorkes' place, about half a\nmile farther into the woods, and their house had no communication\nwith the public ways save by a cart-road. Joe's sole income was\nderived from the sale of little snags of wood that he hauled into the\nvillage, and exchanged for groceries. In Seaton wood was a drug in\nthe market. A man must cut his beech and maple into clear split logs,\nand season it well, if he expected to get two dollars a cord for it.\n\nThe walk through the woods was a pleasant one, for nature was\nstirring all alive about them. This nature was no Delilah of the\ntropics, and to one who loved a bold and gorgeous beauty it was\npoor. But for those who like to seek beauty in her shyer, hidden\nways, it had a delicate and subtle charm. The profuse snowy bloom of\nwild-cherries showed in a cloud here and there against the red or\nsalmon-colored flowers of maples and oaks. Silver birches glimmered\nthrough their shining foliage, like subsiding nymphs, and the\ntassels of the larch swung out their brown and gold. Violets blue\nand white opened thickly in wet places, sisterhoods of snowdrops\nstood with their drooping heads tenderly streaked with pink,\nlittle knubbles of land were covered thickly with old and young\ncheckerberry--\"ivry-leaves\" the children called them, drops of gum\noozed through the rough bark of spruce and hemlock, brooks rushed\nfrothing past, and birds were returning to their nests or building\nnew ones.\n\nSoon they heard sounds of human life through the forest quiet, the\nloud voice of a scolding woman and a confused babel of children's\nvoices.\n\nCarl smiled mockingly. \"A troop of dryads, probably,\" he remarked.\n\nSuddenly they came out close to a small log-house that stood in an\nirregular clearing; and now the scolding and the babel were plain to\nbe heard.\n\n\"I'll lick you like a sack if you don't bring some dry sticks to get\nsupper with!\" cried a woman's voice, and at the same instant a ragged\nlittle boy bounded from the door, helped, apparently, by some outward\napplication, and ran for the woods, his bare feet seeming insensible\nto sticks and stones. Then, all at once, there was silence, and\nclusters of two-colored heads in the windows, and peeping from the\ndoor. The visitors had been discovered. As they approached the\ndoor, a large, wild-eyed Boadicea came to meet them, and invited\nthem in with great ceremony and politeness. She had an unwholesome,\nputty-colored skin and black hair and eyes. In one corner sat Joe,\nwith the baby in his arms, and his hat on his head. This he removed,\nhalf-rose, and performed a salution which was more a courtesy than a\nbow. But he uttered not a word. \"In this house clearly,\n\n      'Madame d'Acier est le p\u00e8re,'\"\n\nthought Carl.\n\nWith a sweep of the arm she banished the children all into one\ncorner of the room (the house contained but one room), brought two\nstrip-bottomed chairs, from one of which her husband had meekly fled\nat her approach, and, dusting them off with her apron, invited her\nvisitors to be seated.\n\n\"You must excuse the confusion reigning in my poor mansion,\" she said\nwith great suavity, and a very good accent. \"Children are always\ndisorderly. Sarah!\" raising her voice, \"bring the besom and sweep up\nthe embers.\"\n\nMelicent turned a look of dismay on her brother, who was taken with a\nslight cough. Sarah, otherwise Sally, came bashfully out from behind\nher father, where she had been crouching on the floor, and swept up\nthe hearth with a brush broom.\n\nThe poor woman, anxious to do all honor to her visitors, and, also,\nto show them that she was above her circumstances, knew no other\nway than by using the largest words she could think of. Her idea\nof polite conversation was to make it as little as possible like\nanything she was accustomed to.\n\nMelicent stated her errand at once, and the mother, with many\nthanks, and lamentations on her misfortunes, called the little ones\nforward, and placed them at the lady's disposal. She stopped in her\ncompliments to dart a threatening look toward the door, where the\nboy who had been \"named for the 'postle Paul\" stood with his burden\nof dry sticks. He dropped them instantly, and came forward, and his\nmother as instantly resumed her smiling face. She could change her\nexpression with remarkable facility.\n\nMelicent fancied this boy at once, and promptly concluded a bargain\nto give a week's trial to him and his eldest sister. They were to go\nto \"the hall,\" as Mrs. Patten politely called it, the next day, and\nbegin their training. They would work for their food and clothing,\nand perhaps, after a while, when she should think them worthy, they\nmight receive wages.\n\nThis settled, Miss Yorke and her brother departed, followed by\nMrs. Patten's compliments to the door, and stared after by all the\nchildren. Joe's only movement on their going was to perform another\ncourtesy like that with which he had received them.\n\n\"Poor souls! they are delighted to have their children with us,\" said\nMelicent, when they were out of hearing. \"But I hope the mother won't\ncome to see them often. Betsey says she is half-crazy.\"\n\n\"I respect her for it!\" Carl exclaimed. \"You can see that she has\nsome talent and ambition, and that she has read some, though she is\nabsurdly ignorant of the ways of the world. With such a husband, such\na troop of children, and such poverty, I repeat I respect her for\nbeing crazy. She can't have a person to speak to but her own family,\nimmured in those forest solitudes, as she says.\"\n\nMrs. Patten looked after them as long as she could see them, her\nface glowing with pride. Then she went into her house, went to the\nfireplace, and withdrew a pair of iron tongs that lay with red-hot\ntips in the coals there. \"There is no need of them now,\" she said\nexultingly.\n\nThese tongs had been kept red during the last week for the better\nreception of any town officer who should venture to come for one of\nher children. Mrs. Patten did not by any means propose to submit\ntamely. Then she turned tragically, and faced her husband with a look\nof withering contempt.\n\n\"I was meant to be such a lady as that!\" she exclaimed, with a\ngrand gesture of the arm in the direction where Melicent Yorke had\ndisappeared. \"And yet, I sacrificed my birthright--fool that I\nwas!--to marry you, Joe Patten!\"\n\nJoe shrank, and hugged the baby up to him. \"I know you did, Sally!\"\nhe said deprecatingly--\"I know you did!\"\n\n\"And you never knew enough to appreciate me!\" she continued in a\ntragic tone.\n\n\"I know I never did,\" answered Joe in a trembling voice--\"I know it,\nSally.\"\n\n\"Learn to respect me, then!\" she said, drawing herself up. \"Call me\nMrs. Patten!\"\n\n\"Yes, I will, I do, I have,\" whimpered Joe. \"I--\"\n\n\"Hold your tongue!\" commanded his wife. \"Paul, bring me those chips.\"\nAnd she proceeded to get supper.\n\nPoor Sally Patten was not nearly so cruel as she appeared. In truth,\nshe had never laid the weight of her hand upon her husband. But,\nthen, he was always afraid she would.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nMEXICAN ART AND ITS MICHAEL ANGELO.\n\n\nThe society of Mexico has become a ruin in which it is necessary\nto search with some labor to discover monuments of literature and\nart. Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz, though for her time an extraordinary\nwoman, is unknown to the greater portion of the continent of whose\nletters she seems to have been the true morning star. Of Siguenza,\nmathematician, philosopher, historian, antiquary, and of Velasquez\nCardenas, the astronomer and geometrician, the world knew little\nuntil Humboldt praised their remarkable talents. Not without a shrug\nof surprise, we imagine, did the readers of half a century ago accept\nhis assurance that \"M. Tolsa, professor of sculpture at Mexico, was\neven able to cast an equestrian statue of King Charles the Fourth;\na work which, with the exception of the Marcus Aurelius at Rome,\nsurpasses in beauty and purity of style everything which remains in\nthis way in Europe.\" Miguel Cabrera, a greater artist than Tolsa, and\nthe most vigorous imaginative genius which Mexico has produced, has\nyet to be adequately recognized in America. The art of our northern\nrepublic boasts the names of Trumbull, Stuart, Allston, Inman,\nVanderlyn, Sully, Neagle, Hamilton, Rothermel, Church, Crawford,\nPowers, Akers, Greenough, Hosmer, and others; but we doubt if among\nall these can be found an artist as praiseworthy as was this Mexican\nCabrera. Do we exaggerate? No; we are addressing a practical public,\nmuch in love with its own works and ways and ideals, and not too well\ndisposed to imagine the difficulties of a Mexican artist one hundred\nand thirty years ago.\n\nBut, first, let us describe, so far as we may, the scene and\ncircumstances of his artistic labors. Mexico, as compared with our\nnorthern cities, is a wonderfully old-fashioned capital. The walls\nof its houses have been built to last till doomsday, and its doors\nare like doors of castles. Many of its flat fronts boast stuccoed\nornaments: all are painted with tints ranging from yellow to pink\nand pale blue--colors of art which, as applied in particular cases,\nare seldom at once tolerable to a foreign eye, but which find their\nreason in necessity as well as taste, and partly in the dull,\nunlovely character of the building material. This is often a kind\nof lava-stone or tezontle, a stone the volcano itself seems to have\nsupplied for the purpose of resisting earthquake, and which defies\nthe insidious action of Mexican damps. The churches are instances\nof colored architecture. La Profesa is yellowed; the cathedral's\nchapel is browned. San Domingo, San Agustin, and, in fact, all the\nMexican churches are tinted more or less, the favorite hue being\na mild and not offensive yellow, qualified by white plasters. One\nremembers gratefully that neutral tint which makes a long range of\nMexican houses, with their balconies and tasteful awnings, quaint\nand elegant letterings of signs, and flags hung out at shop-doors,\nso picturesque, so pleasant, and so characteristic. The perspective\nof a Mexican street, especially toward the close of the day, enjoys\na repose of many colors well blended with such lines of substantial\nhouses as cannot but impress the eye of the musing stranger. Their\narchitecture, so simple and massive, but so different from a certain\nwide-awake familiarity which is written upon the houses of the\nNorth, best assimilates in his view with some mood of twilight.\nYet, seen at dawn or at dusk, or under the moon, the city of Mexico\nnever loses its one decided charm of picturesqueness. It was this\nexceeding quality which doubtless delighted the eye of Humboldt when\nhe praised Mexico as one of the finest of cities. He had, perhaps,\nbeheld from its cathedral's steeple a most unique capital--a city\nset not on a hill, but in one of the dreamiest of valleys near one\nof the dreamiest and shallowest of lakes, with Popocatapetl and\nIxtaccihuatl, snow-crowned and heaven-seeking, for monuments of its\nguardian valley.\n\nIn such a scene, Cabrera and his contemporary artists did their work.\nTheir school was the church. What this church was in their day the\nsplendid traditions of art found even now in its corridors and near\nits altars bear faithful witnesses. Something from their hands has\ngone into every community of Mexico, and, if war has spared one-half\nthe relics of her art as it existed one hundred and fifty or two\nhundred years ago, the republic is still fortunate in one respect.\nThe cathedrals of Puebla and Mexico, and La Profesa, were perhaps\nthe chief homes of that genius of painting which was manifested not\nmerely in one, but in a number of Mexicans. Who are the artists of\nthe exceedingly fine pictures which may be seen in the church at\nPuebla the stranger rarely ascertains. The tradition that Velasquez,\nthe great pupil of Murillo, and Cabrera, the native Mexican, sowed\nthe religion of the New World with their pencils some centuries\nago, supplies him with the morsel of vague knowledge with which he\nreluctantly leaves a building full of rich and curious shrines.\nMexico is to all appearances singularly deficient in a proper memory\nof her noblest painters. Go into one of the city's oldest churches,\nand your friendly guide, though he be a priest, may not be able to\ntell you who painted the saints on the walls and the heads of the\napostles on the shrines. The information possessed outside of the\nchurch respecting its treasures of art has, under stress of various\nrevolutions, dissipated into vague generalities. Three or four\nremarkable names are known, and a few famous pictures; but who can\nat once point out to us the masterpieces of any of the five or six\npainters whose works are worth remembering, or tell us near what\nshrines, outside of the capital itself, we are likely to find rare\npictures? Nevertheless, art is almost the chief boast of Mexico,\naside from its natural endowments, though, like so much else in a\nland subject to all manner of vicissitudes, the boast is to some\nextent shadowy and unsubstantial. In successive revolutions, it is\nconjectured, those true homes of fine art, the convents, have been\ndespoiled, and the saints and angels of their galleries sent hither\nand thither, to be kept by natives or to be sold to foreigners as\nJoseph was sold by his brethren. Another spoliation, and perhaps a\nsearching and sweeping one, is said to have taken place under the eye\nof the French during their mercenary intervention. How or by whom\nrobbed and mutilated in the last half-century of wars, Mexican art is\nbut the wreck of what it was. That so much of it still survives is a\nproof of its original abundance and vitality.\n\nBut, notwithstanding the whirlwinds of revolution, art in the\ncountry of Cabrera has retained a number of impregnable and\nindestructible asylums. Altar ornaments of gold or silver may have\nbeen stolen from the cathedral, but apparently no sacrilegious\ncriminal has ever carried away its pictures. These treasures of\nthe church are set fast in their places round the shrines, so\nclosely and plentifully that, wherever they are most congregated,\nthe altar-places seem walled and tiled with them. Not all of them\nare worthy of Cabrera or Xuarez or Ximenez, let alone Murillo and\nVelasquez; but all have their value as portions of a chapter in\nart the like of which is not to be seen elsewhere on the American\ncontinent. Confused and perplexed as the real beauties of many of\nthese paintings are by the endless bedizenments of altars, it is\nimpossible to ignore or conceal the richness, delicacy, and even\ntenderness which belong to their best specimens. The extravagance of\ngilding, the wilderness of carved flourishes, which the taste of the\nsixteenth century placed at the back of the altars, do not form the\nbest repository for the subdued beauty which a noble picture acquires\nwith age. The great back altar-wall of the cathedral is from floor\nto roof one mass of most ingenious carving and gilding, out of which\nwhat seem to be pious aborigines, associated with warriors and saints\non the same background, blossom in paint and gold. Our modern and\npractical tastes do not easily give room to an ornamentation as loud\nand prodigal as figures in this great recess; but it is nevertheless\na rare and meritorious work in its way. Other shrines display the\nsame gilding in an inferior degree; and we must divest ourselves\nof some prejudice, artistic and otherwise, before we appreciate\nthe merit of extreme elaboration in their ornaments, and discover,\nnotwithstanding this lavish wealth of surrounding decoration, the\nmodest worth of the best pictures of the church.\n\nThe cathedral is well constituted to be the ark and refuge of\nreligious art. It is about 428 feet long and 200 wide, while its\ngeneral height is almost 100, that of its towers being nearly 200\nfeet. These dimensions argue an interior vast enough to enclose three\nor four such churches as we may see on Broadway, without taking into\naccount its large adjoining chapel. Its exterior is a congregation of\nheavy masses crowned by great bell-shaped towers, but wanting a grand\nunity and exaltation. Nevertheless, the charm of picturesqueness\nwhich belongs to so many solid monuments of the sixteenth century has\nrested upon this cathedral, in spite of its dinginess and heaviness;\nand a view of it under the magic of a moonlight which Italian skies\ncould not more than rival is one of the finest of a series of\nMexican lithographs. Gothic height, space, and freedom are the prime\nqualities of the cathedral's interior. Not less than twenty-two\nshrines are there visible in an extent of two aisles and twenty\narches, the columns of which are each quintupled. The high porphyry\ncolumns, the range of the apostles, the burst of gilded glory,\nand the outspread angels over the principal altar are exceedingly\nimpressive, notwithstanding an exuberance of colors. The choir,\naltogether the best architectural feature of the great building,\nrises rather toward the middle of the church, and up from the floor,\nin a high and luxurious growth of oaken carvings and embellishments.\nInside is the assembly of the saints, finely panelled. Cherub and\nseraph are busy apparently with the superb organ-pipes, and make\nmerry overhead with all the instruments of an orchestra, while impish\nfaces beneath them seem to be out of temper. The nobleness of the\nchoir as a work of art is, in great part, due to its gravity, though\nit is as ingenious, perhaps, as anything of the kind need be, without\nseeking comparison with the mightiest fancies of the Old World.\n\nEven to an ordinary observer it is plain that the old cathedral is\nwell endowed with pictures. The pure olive-faced Madonna, over the\nnearest and most popular altar, is said to be Murillo's; it may\nbe Velasquez's. She is a mild, meek lady, with a boy in her lap,\nveritably human in feature. Out of the rich shade of a great old\nartist's mood cherubs seem to swarm upon them. In the fine gloom of\nVespers, when only the face of the Madonna is seen, the religious\nmildness of this picture is especially venerable. Other altars have\nmany curiosities, more or less associated with art. There is at one\na Man of Sorrow, sitting and leaning in wretched plight; at another,\na sallow and agonized Redeemer on the cross; and painted statues and\ncrucifixes only less realistic and distressful than these are common\nthroughout the church. The ghostly figure of what may be a dead saint\nis laid out in wax, as upon a bed, at one shrine, and elsewhere what\nseems to be a dead Redeemer is altared in a glass case. In the chapel\nthe artistic character of the cathedral is repeated, save that its\nhigh altar-columns, its cross-bearing angel, its splendidly-rayed\napotheosis of the Blessed Virgin, its statues of Moses and John the\nBaptist, have a more modern workmanship. The Madonna, in lady-like\nwax, with a crown upon her head, and holding daintily a babe in\nher arms, is the principal figure of one of the auxiliary shrines,\nthough not the best specimen of an art in which Mexicans excel,\nand which, as represented in a black-robed figure of the Mother of\nSorrows, is sometimes admirable and religiously effective. These\ninstances, though but a few of the numberless curiosities of wood\nand wax amid which the painters have found their abiding home, will\nserve to illustrate the very mixed artistic complexion of the Mexican\ncathedral. The statues and paintings are of all sorts, colors, and\nstyles. But the shadowy picture of a sad, nunlike face of Our Lady\nof Sorrows; the quaint-hooded countenance of the Blessed Virgin,\napparently wrought in tapestry of the middle ages; or that of our\nLord, after he had been scourged, plainly apprise us that the\nsincerity of art, first consecrated by the church, has become a part\nof its own consecration. These are sacred pictures, truly. Weary and\nwretched, his head bound with thorns, our Lord leans in agonized\ncontemplation, while an apostle looks up to him in tears. The\nelements of this exquisite painting are gloom and pathos developed\nout of Murillo-like colors and shadows. Another painting, equally\nreverend, pursues the same theme and mood. To whose genius do we owe\nthem? Perhaps to Velasquez, of whose works the church, it is said,\npossesses a noble number; perhaps to Cabrera. Who shall decide? One\nof the fathers or cathedraticos might tell us, but which father and\nwhich professor? The condition of topsy-turvy succeeding a revolution\nis not favorable to the pursuit or the memory of art; and, as we have\nhinted, the proper rediscovery of Mexican art must be a matter of\nunselfish and laborious search. Mexico does not, perhaps, even yet\nknow its proper historian.\n\nYet some thing we do know of Cabrera. The fine head of St. Peter,\npointed out to the writer by a padre of San Hypolito, is by him.\nOne of three immense canvases in the sacristy of the cathedral is\nalso his surprising handiwork. It is a pictorial homage to the Pope,\nwherein the successor of St. Peter, gray and grave, sits on the\ntopmost seat of a ponderous car of triumph, which is pushed by giants\nof the faith led by heroes and saints. What seems to be the genius of\nhistory has a seat in the van, and disporting cherubs hover on flank\nand rear, while the aged Pope is being ministered to or counselled\nby a saint or apostle. This picture, perhaps the largest, though\nnot necessarily the best, painted by Cabrera, is very remarkable\nfor its vigor and variety of form. The other great canvases are by\nXuarez and Ximenez, both Mexican painters of genius. One represents\nthe victory of Michael celebrated by the angelic powers; the theme\nof the other appears to be the reception of the Holy Lady in heaven.\nPictures of this extensive character are certainly calculated to\ndisplay the energy of artists, but not always to develop the highest\nexpression of religion. There can be no question of the vigor of\nthese paintings, especially of Cabrera's; but probably we shall have\nto seek among smaller canvases and less complicated subjects the true\nmasterpieces of Cabrera, Xuarez, and Ximenez. Some years ago they\nmight have been found in the Convent of La Profesa or of St. Dominic,\nor, perhaps, in the Academy of San Carlos; but where are they now?\nThat academy, once, doubtless, the finest of its kind in America, and\nstill among the best, does contain, it is true, some master paintings\nby Xuarez, Rodriguez, Joachim, Ludovicus, bearing date after the\nclose of the sixteenth century; but these do not give us assurance of\nbeing the best examples of what was done about Cabrera's time. The\nwalls of San Carlos, we may remark in passing, contain a very large,\nmelodramatic descent from the cross by Baltasar de Chaue, and a\nbeautiful Shepherd Boy, by Ingies, whose simplicity recalls the fact\nthat the Lute Player, one of the few genuine Murillos said to be in\nthe country, is in the possession of a Mexican club.\n\nBut what of Cabrera? Alas! that the walls of San Carlos should\ntell us little or nothing; that the padre who guides us through La\nProfesa knows about as much! The poor muse of painting has been a\ngood-for-nothing these many years, a wretched Cinderella sitting\nat a ruined hearthstone, or, rather, sweeping up the rubbish in\nthe corridors of confiscated and despoiled convents. La Profesa,\nhowever, is an asylum of art. As it now stands, it is a fine old\nchurch, whose rigid and antiquated countenance many a praying Mexican\nwoman knows for that of a mother. Nothing of its ample, simple,\nsturdy architecture has crumbled in the last two centuries. Its\nplateresco--the \"frolic fancy\" which sixteenth-century art put upon\nthe front of churches, and of which the _fa\u00e7ade_ of the cathedral\npresents an immense example, entangling cherubs and bewildering\nsaints in the ingenuity of its small sculptures--still remains\nintact. The apostles are in their niches, and \"Nuestro Se\u00f1or\" is\ninvoked in a text cut on the outside walls. Not many years ago,\nLa Profesa was not merely a church, but, as its name indicates, a\nhouse for religious women, and that, too, one of the richest and\nmost extensive in Mexico. Many courts, many corridors and fountains,\nand some pleasant gardens, with eaves-haunting birds to remind one\nof St. Francis's gossips, the sparrows, were no doubt among the\npossessions of this convent as of other convents in the capital,\nfrom whose now deserted walks and cells one may hear the flow of\nfountains and the song of birds. But a few corridors of the many that\nbelonged to the house have been left to the church out of a general\nruin made necessary for the cutting of a wide street through what was\nonce a vast building or number of buildings. These corridors and the\nchurch itself were in 1868 visited by the writer in company with a\ncourteous young padre, but he could learn comparatively little of the\nunmistakable riches of art deposited there. Who painted the superb\nheads of the apostles framed in an altar near the sacristy? Cabrera\nor Velasquez? The padre did not know. As we entered the first of the\nwide, heavy stone corridors, two old men, looking like pensioners,\nwere saying their prayers aloud before a shrine of Our Lady of\nGuadalupe. We stood opposite a mammoth scene of the crucifixion,\nwherein Christ and the thieves are most painfully individualized on\nthe gloom of Calvary. Age and neglect had seemingly eclipsed the\nlarger portion of this canvas, and left no shade of the painter's\nidentity in the mind of our student of the cloister. In another\nill-lighted corridor were paintings by Cabrera, Xuarez, Ximenez,\nJoachim, Correa, Rodriguez, and some others, all Mexicans, it is\nsaid, and evidently men of decided gifts. Here was a picture by\nXuarez of the Saviour in apparition among the apostles--a presentment\nin tenderest and most luminous colors of ethereal gentleness.\nThe finest picture in the gallery, entitled St. Luke, might have\nbeen by a pupil of Murillo, but really the padre could not tell.\nAnother corridor more neglected than the rest seemed to be a very\ncharnel-room for art--a place for the rags and lumber of unhung,\nundusted, unrestored pictures. The distracted church has been a sorry\nsexton for its dead painters. After all, the best efforts are not\ncertain of immunity from the outrages of time and ignorance. Well\nenough if the great unseen critic applauds.\n\nNowadays the common visitor to La Profesa searches not at all for\nCabrera, but looks at a dome brilliantly painted with scenes from the\nlife of the Saviour by the Spanish Mexican Clavel. Except the dome\nof Santa Teresa's by Cordero, there is perhaps nothing of the kind,\nat least in the three principal cities of Mexico, to compare with\nClavel's work. Cordero, whose picture of Columbus at court received\nall the honors of an exhibition in the palace of Prince Poniatowski\nat Florence, and who has received high encomiums from his brother\nartists in Italy, is by some regarded the best of existing Mexican\nartists. Like the two Coras, who, with Tolsa, appear to be the most\nnoted of the sculptors of Mexico, Cordero is a native of the country.\nTo Jose Villegas Coras, who was born in 1713, the city of Puebla owes\nthose statues of our Lord and Our Lady, which one of his admirers\ndeclares have a sublimity of expression and a grace in details not\neasy to find in the best schools of Europe. Jose Zocarias Coras, his\nnephew, was less an idealist, says his critic, but more faithful to\nnature, and is distinguished by his sculptures of the \"Crucified,\" in\nwhich are exhibited a profound agony. The two statues which crown the\ntowers of the cathedral are also the work of the younger Coras, who\ndied in 1819, in the sixty-seventh year of his age. The work of these\nmen was ill-requited, like so much else in Mexican life and industry.\nThe writer is not able to speak of them upon personal or from a very\ncommon knowledge of their sculptures; but it is well to note them\nhere as artists who are thought worthy of a place in that scarce and\nnot too steady literature, Mexican biography. It may serve others who\nvisit Mexico to know that, in the latest phase of art at the capital,\nClavel, Rebull, Cordero, and the sculptor Islas, with some others,\nhave distinguished themselves.\n\nLet us now speak freely of Cabrera, the father and master of Mexican\nart--of him whose pictures are at once so numerous and so scarce,\nwhose fame is so well-founded, yet of whose life so little is\nknown. The first important fact in his biography is, that, like the\ngreatest ruler which the country has produced, its greatest artist\nwas an Indian--a Zapotec Indian, too, from the native country of\nBenito Juarez, Oaxoca. The next is that, under the patronage of the\nArchbishop Salinas, he painted those many admirable pieces which are\nthe reproachful glory of his country. According to a modern Mexican\nwriter, Se\u00f1or Orozco, works of Cabrera may be found in the churches\nof Mexico and Puebla especially, and in the convents of San Domingo\nand La Profesa, but we have seen under what circumstances. His\nmasterpieces, if we may credit the intelligent opinion reported by\nSe\u00f1or Orozco, are contained in the sacristy of the church at Tasco,\nwhere a whole life of the Blessed Virgin is portrayed, the scene\nof the Nativity being distinguished by its light and freshness of\ncolor. The same writer assures us that Cabrera wrote a treatise on\nthe celebrated picture given to the Indian Juan Diego during the\nMarvellous Apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe, and in it he concurs\nwith other painters of his day in affirming that the miraculous\npainting, which he had examined carefully in the light of art, is\nnot the work of human hands. This is the judgment of an Indian artist\nrespecting a wonderful revelation made to one of his race, and,\nhowever it may be viewed by those who discredit all supernaturalism\nof a later date than eighteen hundred years ago, gives the stamp of\nconviction to the faith of Guadalupe. What the opinion of Cabrera was\nworth in a question of art, what the artist himself should be worth\nin the estimation of mankind, is signified to us in the following\nextraordinary notice of his genius by Count Beltrani, an Italian\ntraveller:\n\n    \"Some pictures of Cabrera are called _American\n    wonders_, and all are of eminent merit. The life of St.\n    Dominic, painted by him in the cloister of the convent\n    of that name; the life of St. Ignatius, and the history\n    of the man degraded by mortal sin and regenerated by\n    religion and virtue, in the cloister of La Profesa,\n    present two galleries which in nothing yield to the\n    cloister of Santa Maria la Nueva di Florencia, and\n    the Campo Santo of Pisa. I hazard even saying that\n    Cabrera alone, in these two cloisters, is worth all the\n    artists joined who have painted the two magnificent\n    Italian galleries. Cabrera possesses the outlines of\n    Correggio, the animation of Domenichino, and the pathos\n    of Murillo. His episodes--as the 'Angels,' etc.--are of\n    rare beauty. In my conception, he is a great painter.\n    He was, moreover, an architect and sculptor; in fine,\n    the Michael Angelo of Mexico.\"\n\nWhat say our American pilgrims to Italy of this report of an Italian\npilgrim in America? Here, then, was an Indian Michael Angelo of\nwhom few artists of the New World know anything whatever. We need\nnot strain an objection that Count Beltrani's dictum may be an\nexaggeration, for there are not many travellers who care to praise\nMexico, and very few to overpraise her--at least, in respect to art.\nThe fact remains that the country which gave birth to Sor Juana Inez\nde la Cruz, perhaps the most remarkable character in all American\nletters, also had for its native the greatest painter of the New\nWorld, and one of the most singularly meritorious in an age when\ngreat painters were numerous. In judging of Cabrera, we must fairly\nconsider the time, the place, the elements in which he wrought;\nfor schools, masters, models, emulation, royal encouragement, and\nproper recompense and fame were all denied to him, in a greater\nor less degree. Cloistered as a great artist must necessarily be\nat any time, he would have felt, perhaps, especially abandoned in\nfar-off Mexico in the sixteenth century. That Cabrera did suffer this\nabandonment the facts of his life attest. Yet, to speak a literal\ntruth, Cabrera has no biography. It is not known when he was born\nor when he died, and, says a Mexican writer, \"we only know that he\nlived in the eighteenth century by the dates of his paintings.\"\nAlas! for fame; alas! for genius!--and this, too, in the eighteenth\ncentury! We know more of Shakespeare, more of Lop\u00e9, more of Sor\nJuana, more of Alarcon--he, too, was born in Mexico, yet we know\nhis birthday--than of Cabrera, who could not have died more than a\nhundred and twenty-five years ago, and respecting whom it was said:\n\"There is hardly a church of the republic which does not contain some\nwork of his distinguished pencil.\" Alas! for work and worth! How much\nof all this may have perished or vanished beneath the storms of the\nlast fifty miserable years of Mexican life, overridden by swaggering\npronouncers, stolen by intervening robbers, the torch of genius\nextinguished in the dust raised by defiant nobodies. Yet Cabrera\nsurvives, as few artists can, a veritable wreck of matter. Happily\nfor him, it may be, his only biography is in his works; and they are\nfull of life, and of life better than his own, yet in some respects\nreceived into it--lives of saints, apostles, angels, the Blessed\nVirgin, and the Divine Redeemer. Let these speak for his life to men,\nand commend his work to the unseen Master.\n\n\n\n\n\"THE SERIOUS, TOO, HAVE THEIR 'VIVE LA BAGATELLE.'\"\n\n\n      Gay world! You may write on my heart what you will\n        If your laugh-shaken fingers but trace\n      The dream, or the jest, with that fairylike quill\n        That ciphers the wood-sorrel's vase!\n\n      Fair world! You may write on my heart what you will;\n        But write it with pencil, not pen:\n      You are fair, and have skill; but a hand fairer still\n        Soon whitens the tablet again!\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT OUR MUNICIPAL LAW OWES TO THE CHURCH.\n\n\nThe wisdom and bravery of our forefathers having at length enabled\nthem to sever the ties which had bound the original thirteen colonies\nto Great Britain, their experience, knowledge, and foresight were\ncalled into requisition to form a government for the new nation,\nand adopt a code of laws which, avoiding the complex and erroneous\nfeatures of those of the Old-World countries, the necessary result\nof centuries of contradictory legislation, would confirm to the\npeople their newly-acquired liberties, and guarantee to every\ncitizen not only justice from the state, but, in their relations\nwith each other, ample protection for life and liberty, property and\nreputation. As a foundation for this new system of jurisprudence,\nthe statesmen of the Revolution selected the English code almost in\nits entirety, partly because the late colonists had been familiar\nwith its workings on either side of the ocean, but mainly because\nthey considered it, comparatively, at least, humane and liberal, and\nthe most suitable for a free government. Many statutes and customs\npeculiar to monarchies were at the time necessarily omitted, and\nseveral enactments have since been passed by our national and local\nlegislatures liberalizing ancient laws, as intended to keep pace with\nthe rapid development of our industrial resources, which, from time\nto time, creates new and complicated relations between individuals.\nStill, to all intents and purposes, our body of laws is fundamentally\nidentical with that of England in the last century, is founded on\nthe same general principles, and has the same origin and history.\nTherefore, in speaking of the jurisprudence of our republic, we also\nspeak of that of Great Britain, for whatever applies to one as a\nwhole equally applies to the other.\n\nOur municipal law, consisting of the common law (_lex non scripta_)\nand the statute law (_lex scripta_), springs from three distinct\nsources, each of which in its degree has materially contributed its\nshare to the general stock which goes to make up our legal system,\nwhich, for completeness and enlightenment of spirit, may well\nchallenge the admiration of mankind. These three sources are--the\nancient common law of England, the civil law of the Roman Empire, and\nthe canon law of the church. Though originating at distinct periods\nand places, and intended primarily to operate on diverse elements,\nthe provisions of these three codes have in process of time become\nso interwoven, one with the other, in the body of the English law,\nthat it is often difficult and sometimes impossible to discriminate\nbetween them.\n\nThe common law, in its general acceptation, is composed of the\nancient customs of England, beyond which the memory of man runneth\nnot to the contrary, of reports of cases and decisions of judges\nthereon, and of the writings of persons learned in the law. Sir\nWilliam Blackstone, the celebrated author of the _Commentaries on\nthe Laws of England_, is by universal consent the greatest expounder\nof the common law. With the legal profession, his opinions have a\nforce little less binding than that of a positive enactment, while\nhis definitions, whether borrowed from his predecessors or his own\ncreation, are accepted by the learned of all classes as the most\ncomprehensive and satisfactory in the language on this branch of\nstudy. Unhappily for posterity, but more unfortunately for his own\nreputation, Blackstone lived and wrote in an age when it was the\nfashion to introduce into every department of English literature the\nmost absurd calumnies against the church, and to advance the most\npreposterous claims in favor of the so-called Reformation. The wild\nfanaticism and lust of plunder with which that stupendous rebellion\nagainst God's authority was inaugurated had in a great measure\nsubsided in the middle of the last century, and it behooved those of\nits advocates who attempted to look back into the past to justify\npresent crimes by maligning their Catholic ancestors, or, when that\ncould not be hazarded, by imputing the worst of motives for the\nbest of actions. The great commentator, with all his perspicacity\nand legal acumen, was nor above resorting to this dishonest method\nof bolstering a sinking cause, and hence we find in his otherwise\ninvaluable work that he loses no opportunity, in or out of season,\nto ignore the transcendent merits, misrepresent the conduct, and\nmisconstrue the intentions of the ecclesiastics of the early and\nmiddle ages of the church, who, in their time, had done so much to\nreduce our laws into something like system, and make them conform\nin justice and equity as much as possible to those revealed by the\nCreator. Surrounded by the mists of doubt and dissent, the emanation\nof a hundred jarring creeds, he failed to see beyond the horizon of\nhis own generation, or to perceive the reflux of that wave of heresy\nwhich, in the sixteenth century, submerged England, and threatened\nto inundate the whole of Europe. As an expounder of law, Blackstone\nstill holds a position in the front rank of our jurists, but so\nwarped are his views by the prejudices of the epoch in which he lived\nthat, before the enlightened spirit of our time, he is gradually but\nsurely losing his vantage-ground as an impartial authority, even\non questions upon which he is really most reliable. Another defect\nin the writings of this able professor, but one of much lesser\nimportance, is his constant tendency to exaggerate the merits of\nthe Anglo-Saxon lawgivers, and to attribute to them the credit of\noriginating many laws which were wholly unknown in England till many\nyears after the conquest; but as we have the authority of Hallam for\nsaying that his knowledge of ancient history was rather superficial,\nwe may attribute this fault more to a deficiency of historical\nknowledge than to a wilful intention to deceive.\n\nThe civil law is founded principally on the ancient regal\nconstitutions of Rome, on the laws of the twelve tables, the statutes\nof the senate and republic, the edicts of the pr\u00e6tors, the opinions\nof learned lawyers, and on imperial decrees. So numerous, however,\nhad these various enactments become, and so contradictory in terms\nand penalties, that the study of them was the labor of a lifetime,\naltogether beyond the ability of the great mass of the governed\nto overcome. It was therefore found necessary in the reign of\nTheodosius, about A.D. 438, to codify them, and, by rejecting all\nsuperfluous matter, to greatly reduce their bulk. About a century\nlater, under the Emperor Justinian, they were again submitted to a\nsimilar process, the Institutes being reduced to four books, and the\nPandects, containing over two thousand cases and opinions, to fifty.\nTo these were added a new code, being a continuation of that of\nTheodosius, the novels or decrees of that emperor and his successors,\nas well as those of Justinian himself. These taken together formed\nthe _corpus juris civilis_ of the Eastern and Western Empires. It is\nin the new code and the novels that we first begin to perceive the\ninfluence of the church in civil legislation. From the time of the\nconversion of Constantine, the emperors, with one or two exceptions,\nwere the fast friends, and, in matters spiritual, the obedient\nchildren of the pontiffs. The laws of pagan times, particularly those\nrespecting distributive justice and the domestic relations, were\nutterly unsuited for the government of a Christian people, and, as\nthe church was recognized as the sole arbiter of right and wrong in\nthe abstract, it is natural to expect that the Christian emperors\nbefore and after Justinian not only conformed to the dicta of the\nchurch in their decrees and decisions, but frequently consulted\ntheir spiritual advisers on matters affecting conscience in their\ntwofold capacity of legislators and judges. Justinian in particular\nappears to have borrowed many of his ideas of temporal law from the\nchurch, for we find him paraphrasing or adopting bodily many of the\ncanons of the early councils.[59] Hence we easily perceive that much\nof the more modern portion of the _corpus juris civilis_, though\nbearing the impress of imperial authority, is in reality little more\nthan a copy of the rules laid down previously for the spiritual and\nsocial guidance of the children of the church, and that those grand\nprinciples and delicate distinctions which are as true to-day as\nin the time of the apostles, and are as applicable to our advanced\nstate of civilization as they were then, are simply the result of\nthe infusion of the spirit of Christianity into the civil polity\nof a once pagan people. Thus we find the Institutes or Elements of\nJustinian commencing with the solemn invocation, \"In the name of our\nLord Jesus Christ,\" and ending with the equally edifying aspiration,\n\"Blessed be the majesty of God and our Lord Jesus Christ,\" and in\nharmony with this pious disposition we find among other laws relating\nto the rights of the church the following: \"Those things which have\nbeen consecrated by the pontiffs in due form are esteemed sacred;\nsuch as churches, chapels, and all movable things, if they have been\nproperly dedicated to the service of God, and we have forbidden\nby our constitution that these things should be either aliened or\nobligated unless for the redemption of captives.\"[60] A novel of\nValentinian, in A.D. 452, in recognizing the right of bishops to try\ncases of only temporal concern where the parties were in orders,\nextends their jurisdiction over laics who have power to \"oblige\nthemselves to obey the sentence of the bishop,\" which sentence, if\nnecessary, was to be enforced by the civil authorities.[61]\n\nThe church did not conform, either in her discipline or her doctrine,\nto the rules or underlying principles of the civil law, but on the\ncontrary subjected that law to the most rigid examination and the\nmost careful analysis, expurgating what was opposed to justice and\nretaining all that she found in consonance with divine truth; and\nas the Roman civil law was at that period a rule for all civilized\nnations, this may be considered her first great human gift to\nmankind, equal if not superior to her subsequent culture of the\narts, sciences, and literature. Admitting, then, the harmony which\nexisted between the Roman laws and the teachings of the church, we\nare not surprised to find that when, in the eleventh century, a copy\nof Justinian, discovered at Amalphi, Italy, was published, it was\neagerly received by European nations, adopted in whole or in part by\nall Christendom, and that it to-day forms the main foundation of the\njurisprudence of all enlightened peoples.[62]\n\nAbout the time of the revival of the study of the Roman civil law,\nGratian, an Italian monk, published in three volumes, arranged in\ntitles and chapters after the manner of the Pandects, a collection\nof the decrees of the general councils of the church, a digest of\nthe opinions of the fathers, and the decretals and bulls of the Holy\nSee. Other collections had been previously made by ecclesiastics in\nSpain and elsewhere, but none were found to be complete or reliable.\nHowever, as Gratian's work was itself far from perfect, Pope Gregory\nIX. authorized Raymond de Pennafort, a learned divine, to compile a\nnew collection, which was published by authority of his Holiness,\nA.D. 1234, under the title of _Decretalia Gregorii Noni_. It was\ndivided into five books, and contained all that was worth preserving\nof Gratian, with the subsequent rescripts of the Popes, especially\nthose of Alexander III., Innocent III., Honorius III., and Gregory\nIX. \"In these books,\" says Hallam, \"we find a regular and copious\nsystem of jurisprudence, derived in a great measure from the civil\nlaw, but with considerable deviation and possible improvement.\"[63]\nBoniface VIII., sixty years afterwards, published a sixth part,\nknown as _Sextus Decretalium_, divided also into five books, in the\nnature of a supplement to the other five, of which it follows the\narrangement, and is composed of decisions promulgated after the\npontificate of Gregory IX. New constitutions were added by Clement\nV. and John XXII., under the titles respectively of _Clementine_ and\n_Extravagantes Johannis_, and a few rescripts of later pontiffs are\nincluded in a second supplement, arranged like the _Sextus_, and\ncalled _Extravantes Communes_. Up to the Council of Pisa, in A.D.\n1409, these books constituted the whole of the canon law or _corpus\njuris canonici_, and though principally intended for the government\nof ecclesiastics, were often applied to temporal purposes, in law and\nequity, when neither the civil nor common law met the requirements\nof a disputed point. The study of the canons had been encouraged\nfrom the first in the colleges and schools of Europe, but, upon the\npublication in a systematical form in the eleventh century, it became\nuniversal, and with the Roman civil law constituted an essential\nbranch of clerical education. At first the Canonists and Glossators,\nas the professors of civil law were called, formed separate but not\nantagonistic schools, but in the thirteenth century Lanfrancus, a\nprofessor of Bologna, united the study of both laws, a custom which\nhas since been generally adopted.\n\nAs we have before remarked, Sir William Blackstone would fain have us\nbelieve that every principle of English common law originated with,\nand was recognized by, the Anglo-Saxons from the remotest period of\ntheir history, but there is neither fact nor probable suspicion to\nsustain those unqualified statements of our partial commentator. The\nRomans, who held possession of Britain for more than four hundred\nyears, may have left on the vanquished people of that country some\nimpress of their laws, but the Britons themselves, soon after the\ndeparture of the legions, were driven to the mountains of Wales by\nthe Angles and Saxons, and for centuries held no intercourse with\nthe victorious intruders. These latter, the outpourings of the woods\nand swamps of the north, are represented by all reliable historians\nas the veriest barbarians, illiterate and idolatrous, and altogether\nincapable of conceiving or appreciating the broad principles of free\ngovernment or the varied regulations which control the intercourse\nand commerce of man with man, such as we find in civilized society;\nmuch less those which affect the conduct of household relations,\nwhich, originating in the church, could only have been properly\nexpounded by her ministers. The Danes, who subsequently invaded\nand for many years held possession of the larger portion of the\nisland, were little less barbaric, nor can we trace to them any\nwell-recognized custom or fundamental principle of our present laws.\n\"In the barbarous specimens of legislation due to the era of Saxon\nand Danish rule,\" says a late able writer on this subject, \"the few\ntexts of Roman law which occur appear to us traceable through the\nPapal canons. How faint is the impression which even the Anglo-Saxon\nlaws have left upon our system? We have still the local court and\nthe local officers, and some of the rude democratic elements of\njudicial procedure and constitutional law have been nurtured into\nreal civilized liberty, but happily for us, the harsh and partial\nregulations savoring of original Teutonic savageness which awarded\nthe various penalties of crime have passed away, and the ancient\nabsence of all expressed regulation in many most important points\nhas been supplied by the legislation of more enlightened times\nand more cultivated men.\"[64] After the arrival of St. Augustine,\ntowards the close of the sixth century, the gradual evangelization\nof the island of Britain necessitated the abolition of the heathen\ncustoms, the basis of the Anglo-Saxon legislation, such as it was,\nand the introduction of a new code of government. The primitive\nignorance of the inhabitants and the subsequent decline of learning\nconsequent on the repeated incursions of the Northmen, had the effect\nof limiting whatever knowledge was still possessed in the country\nto the ecclesiastics, who, amid the most adverse circumstances, and\nvery often at the sacrifice of their lives, fed the torch of learning\nand kept its brilliancy undimmed when all around was darkness. They\nbecame not only the makers but the dispensers of the law, for, though\nsurrounded on all sides by anarchy and ignorance, they had still the\nguidance of their canons and some acquaintance with the elaborate\ncode of the empire. The clergy, admits Blackstone, \"like the Druids,\ntheir predecessors, were proficient in the study of the law.\"\n\nThis marked and beneficial interference of the ministers of the\nchurch in the legislative and judicial affairs of newly converted\nnations not only arose out of political and social necessity, but\nmay be considered as a logical sequence of the establishment of\nChristianity itself. \"The arbitrative authority of ecclesiastical\npastors,\" says Hallam, \"if not coeval with Christianity, grew up\nvery early in the church, and was natural and even necessary to an\nisolated and persecuted society, accustomed to feel a strong aversion\nto the imperial tribunals, and even to consider a recurrence to them\nas hardly consistent with their profession; the early Christians\nretained somewhat of a similar prejudice even after the establishment\nof their religion. The arbitration of their bishops still seemed a\nless objectionable mode of settling differences, and this arbitrative\njurisdiction was powerfully supported by a law of Constantine\nwhich directed the civil magistrate to enforce the execution\nof episcopal awards.\"[65] Justinian went even further than his\nillustrious ancestors, for he not only gave the bishops in the first\ninstance, without the consent of the parties, the power of trying\ntemporal causes in which the defendant was an ecclesiastic, but the\nepiscopal order was absolutely exempted by him from all secular\njurisdiction.[66]\n\nIf such clerical intrusion into the province of the civil magistrate\nwas not only tolerated but encouraged in the best and most Catholic\ndays of the Western and Eastern empires, how much more salutary must\nit have been in its effects among the semi-civilized and turbulent\nSaxons and Northmen! Unfortunately, scarcely any record is left to\nus of the labors of the priesthood in this direction during those\ncenturies which preceded the Norman conquest, for the compilations of\nAlfred and Edward the Confessor are irreparably lost; but here and\nthere we catch a glimpse of their presence legislating or deciding\ncauses. Thus, as early as A.D. 787, at a provincial council held\nat Calcluith, a place long obliterated from the map of England, it\nwas solemnly enacted \"that none but legitimate princes should be\nraised to the throne, and not such as were engendered in adultery or\nincest.\" \"But it is to be remarked,\" says Hallam, \"that, although\nthis synod was strictly ecclesiastical, being summoned by the Pope's\nlegate, yet the kings of Mercia and Northumberland, with many of\ntheir nobles, confirmed the canons by their signatures.\"[67] Another\ninstance of clerical legislation is to be found in the canons of\nthe Northumbrian clergy, and that one of peculiar interest to\nstudents of law and history, presenting, as it does, the first germ\nof that glory of English law not inaptly called the palladium of\nthe subject's liberty--trial by jury.[68] \"If a king's thane,\" says\nthe canon, \"deny this (the practice of heathen superstition), let\ntwelve be appointed for him, and let him take twelve of his kindred\nor equals (_maga_) and twelve British strangers, and if he fail let\nhim pay for his breach of law twelve half-marcs; if a landholder (or\nlesser thane) deny the charge, let as many of his equals and as many\nstrangers be taken for him as for a royal thane, and if he fail let\nhim pay for his breach of law six half-marks; if a ceorl deny it,\nlet as many of his equals and as many strangers be taken for him as\nfor the others, and if he fail let him pay twelve or\u00e6 for his breach\nat law.\"[69] This quasi-jury system appears to have been applied\nto other cases, for we learn from the history of Ramsey, published\nin Gales's _Scriptores_, that a controversy relating to some land\nbetween the monks and a certain nobleman was brought into the county\ncourt, when each party was heard in his own behalf, and after its\ncommencement it was referred by the court to thirty-six thanes,\nequally chosen by both sides.[70]\n\nThe invasion and speedy conquest of Britain by the Normans not\nonly overturned the Saxon dynasty, and reduced the people of that\nand the Danish race remaining in the country to a condition of\nabsolute servitude, but introduced a new language and completely\nrevolutionized the municipal laws of the entire nation. The sacrifice\nof human life incident to the conquest was small in comparison to\nthe amount of misery, wretchedness, and degradation entailed on the\nvanquished for centuries afterwards by the conquerors-men gathered\nfrom every quarter of Europe, whose fortunes were at their swords'\npoints, and whose fidelity and support were only to be purchased by\nthe fruits of plunder and spoliation. Still, it must be admitted\nthat the conquest had its advantages, and very great ones. From\nthe departure of the Romans until the arrival of William, England\nproper cannot be said to have enjoyed any appreciable respite from\nforeign wars or domestic dissensions. The Britons, deprived of the\npowerful protection of the legions, were constantly harassed by\ntheir rapacious neighbors from the north side of the Tweed, and in\ntrying to escape from them they fell into the clutches of their false\nallies, the Angles and Saxons, and narrowly escaped extermination.\nThese latter were no sooner settled in the country than they\nestablished as many monarchies as they had chiefs, and, having for\na time no foreign foe to contend against, readily turned their\narms against each other on the slightest provocation. Weakened and\ndistracted, they soon fell an easy prey to the piratical Northmen,\nwho, under Canute and his successors, fastened on the fair lands of\nthe middle and northern portions of the island and on the contiguous\nsea-ports a grip so tenacious that all the subsequent efforts of the\nSaxon monarchs could not unloosen it. This diversity of race and\ntraditional forms of government naturally gave birth to laws and\ncustoms entirely at variance with each other in letter and spirit,\nand what was binding in one section was unknown or disregarded in\nanother. The Normans, with the thoroughness of genuine conquerors,\ndisregarded all such local distinctions, and reduced the entire\nnative population to a level, thane and ceorl alike being made to\nendure the same burdens of servitude and compelled to obey implicitly\nthe will of their new masters.\n\nBut the Normans were Christians, at least by profession, and boasted\nof a species of rude chivalry which prevented them from imitating\nthe excesses of their pagan predecessors. While greedy enough for\nthe secular lands of the defeated Saxons, they seldom interfered\nwith churches or institutions of learning and charity; on the\ncontrary, they were wise enough to protect the one and encourage the\nother in every manner possible consistent with their design of total\nsubjection. They introduced generally the new system of feuds and a\nforeign hierarchy, it is true, but they did not deprive the people of\nthe consolations of religion, and they gave to the country for the\nfirst time unity, the necessary precursor of rational freedom, and a\nnational government with uniform laws, which, if born amid the clash\nof arms, rested its principal claims to support on the ways of peace.\n\nThe feudal system, though burdened with its aids, reliefs, seisin,\nwardship, and many other equally onerous conditions, was for that\ntime the best and in fact the only proper form of government\nfor England, and it is mainly to its uniform establishment by\nthe conquerors, and to the judicious statesmanship of her great\necclesiastical lawyers, who subsequently gradually mitigated its\nharsher features, that the past and present greatness of that country\nis to be traced. The theory that the sovereign, representing the\nmajesty of the nation, was the owner of all the lands of the kingdom,\nand that directly or indirectly all the occupiers of the soil were\nhis tenants, holding by right of fealty and service, gave to the\npeople what they so long wanted, a centre of unity and a common\nauthority to which they could look for redress and protection.\nBesides, the system had become so general on the Continent, and had\nproved so admirable a machine for defence or aggression, that its\nadoption by the new Anglo-Norman kingdom had become a political\nnecessity.\n\nThough sadly behind many of her sister nations in the arts of\ngovernment, England was not at the time of the conquest altogether\ndeficient in the knowledge of civil or common law. On the contrary,\nshe had many eminent professors of both. The monks of Croyland\nand Spaulding were distinguished as jurists, and Egelbert, Bishop\nof Chichester, is said, even by Norman authorities, to have been\nthoroughly acquainted not only with the canons and what was then\nknown of the Roman civil law, but with \"all the ancient laws and\ncustoms of the land.\"[71] The Normans, however, preferring to place\ntheir own countrymen in positions of trust and influence, invited\nfrom the Continent many learned bishops and professors, to whom\nthey gave the charge of the principal sees and universities, and\nthese, having been trained in the schools of Italy and France,\nsoon substituted the study of the clearer and more equitable\nregulations of the lately-revived civil law for the illogical and\nconflicting customs of the natives. Thus the Pandects of Justinian\nwere introduced into England by Vicarius, professor of canon law\nat Oxford, A.D. 1138, and he was succeeded by Accorso, a doctor of\nthe civil law. Bishop Grosseteste wrote a treatise in favor of the\nstudy of Roman law, and Theobald, Archbishop of Canterbury, founded\na professorship in Oxford to promote the same object. Of the latter\nprelate, it is said that he was accustomed to retain in his house\n\"several learned persons famous for their knowledge of law, who spent\nthe hours between prayers and dinner in lecturing, disputing, and\ndebating causes.\"[72]\n\nThe conquerors of the Anglo-Saxons, though by no means deficient\nin the scholarship and accomplishments of that rude age, were too\nintent on retaining by force the possessions they had won by the\nstrong arm, to cultivate the arts of peace, and, consequently, the\nframing of the laws, the judicial authority, and even the pleading\nof causes, necessarily devolved on the ecclesiastics. Hallam, a\nwriter equally prejudiced with Blackstone, though a much better\nhistorian, is forced to admit that \"the bishops acquired and\nretained much of their ascendency by a very respectable instrument\nof power--intellectual superiority. As they alone were acquainted\nwith the art of writing, they were naturally entrusted with political\ncorrespondence and the making of the laws.\"[73] And it was well for\nthe conqueror and conquered alike that it was so, for to them, and\nthem alone, was given the skill and authority to restrain with one\nhand the ruthless oppressions of the lawless barons, and with the\nother to alleviate the sufferings of a down-trodden people. To the\nwisdom that proceeds from long communion with the works of great and\ngood men they joined the authority of the church, which they failed\nnot to call into requisition when persuasion and reasoning equally\nfailed. To them we owe every successful effort that was made in the\nmiddle age of England's history, either against the tyranny of the\ncrown or the injustice of the nobles. _Magna Charta_, that famous\ninstrument, which, like our own constitution, is so frequently talked\nabout and so little understood, issued from the fertile brain of\nArchbishop Langton, and was signed by every bishop and abbot in the\nland.[74] It was they who took up the serf, educated and ordained\nhim, and made him not only the equal but in many cases the superior\nof his late master. They also regulated the alienation and descent\nof lands, and by their introduction of fines and recoveries, uses\nand trusts, and other forms of conveyance, not only abolished many\nof the worst evils of feudalism, but even, according to Blackstone,\n\"laid the foundation of modern conveyancing.\" For many centuries they\nwere the confidential advisers of kings, their trusted ambassadors\nabroad, and their names always appeared first in every writ summoning\na council or parliament to legislate for the welfare of the realm,\nand the laws thus made were regularly dispensed in the county courts\nby the bishops and the civil magistrates sitting together with equal\njurisdiction.\n\nBut it was in the court of chancery that the wisdom, clemency,\nand equity of the bishops of those days shone with the greatest\nbrilliancy. This was a court of extraordinary jurisdiction, unknown\nin England before the conquest and unparalleled in contemporary\nnations. The chancellor and his assistants, almost without exception,\nup to the time of Wolsey, were ecclesiastics. Their decisions,\nresting upon conscience alone, though unsupported by express statute\nor even in contravention of its letter, had all the force of legal\nenactments, and formed, collectively, the basis of much of our modern\nremedial legislation, as well as an unerring rule for the guidance\nof our highest civil justices. The affairs of married persons,\ninfants, idiots, corporations, bankrupts, testators and intestates,\ngrantors and grantees of land, and of nearly every conceivable\ncondition of life, are even at the present day within the special\nand almost exclusive jurisdiction of our courts of equity. In the\nwords of a distinguished English lawyer, \"It gives relief for and\nagainst infants, notwithstanding their minority, and for and against\nmarried women, notwithstanding their coverture. All frauds and\ndeceits for which there is no redress at common law, all breaches\nof trust and confidence, and unavoidable casualties, by which\nobligors, mortgagors, and others may be held to incur penalties and\nforfeitures, are here remedied. This court also gives relief against\nthe extremity of unreasonable engagements entered into without\nconsideration, obliges creditors who are unreasonable to compound\nwith an unfortunate debtor, and makes executors, etc., give security\nand pay interest for money which is to be long in their hands.\nThe court may confirm the title to lands, though one has lost his\nwritings, render conveyances which are defective through mistake or\notherwise good and perfect. In chancery, copyholders may be relieved\nagainst the ill-usage of their lords, enclosures of land which is\ncommon may be decreed, and this court may also decree the disposition\nof money or lands given to charitable uses, oblige men to account\nwith each other,\" etc.[75]\n\nA system of laws like that of Chancery, so comprehensive and so\nequitable, defined and administered by a long succession of the most\nupright and enlightened men of the land, could not but have left\na deep impression on the entire jurisprudence of the people who\nprofited by its protection--an impression, indeed, that neither the\nmental obliquity of the fanatic nor the sophistry of the pedant has\nbeen able to obliterate. \"So deep hath this canon law been rooted,\"\nsays Lord Stairs, \"that even where the Pope's authority is rejected,\nyet consideration must be had to these laws, not only as those by\nwhich the church benefices have been erected and ordered, but as\nlikewise as containing many equitable and profitable provisions,\nwhich because of their weighty matter and their being once received\nmay more fitly be retained than rejected.\"[76]\n\nHad the prelates and priests of the Saxon and Norman periods done\nnothing for our law but what we find in the decisions of their equity\ncourts, they would have conferred upon us an incalculable blessing,\none equally calculated to liberalize the spirit of legislators,\nenlighten the understanding of jurists, and make government what\nit was designed to be, a shield for the weak and helpless, and a\nterror to the wicked and dishonest. But, as we have seen on the\nauthority of writers conspicuous for their anti-Catholic bigotry,\nthey did infinitely more. Statesmen as well as lawyers, they framed\nmost of our best statutes as well as adjudicated upon them, and they\noriginated or perfected every feature in our entire code which has\nstood the test of time, and enlarged civilization from trial by jury\nto the unqualified right of every man to dispose of his property as\nseems best to himself. They have thus placed us under obligations\nwhich we can only in part repay by transmitting their maxims\nunimpaired to our descendants, and by, at length, doing justice to\ntheir memories. And now, as we believe that the world is growing\nwiser as it is growing older, when time has healed many of the\nwounds inflicted during the great schismatic revolt of the sixteenth\ncentury, and, uninfluenced by passion or unawed by power, the scales\nof prejudice are falling from the eyes of those who through the fault\nof their fathers are aliens to the truth, it is not too much to hope\nthat they will neither be ashamed nor afraid to acknowledge how much\nthey are indebted to the church and her ministers for the generally\nadmirable system of laws under which we live--laws which are at once\nour highest boast and best protection.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[59] _Vide 131, Nov. Justinian._\n\n[60] Doctor Harris's translation, p. 49. London, 1814.\n\n[61] Lib. ii. tit. 35.\n\n[62] According to some authorities, a copy of the Pandects was\ndiscovered at Amalphi, in the middle of the twelfth century, and was\nfirst given to the world by two Italian lawyers. D'Israeli, in his\n_Curiosities of Literature_, says: \"The original MS. of Justinian's\nCode was discovered by the Pisans accidentally when they took a city\nin Calabria. That vast code of laws had been in a manner unknown from\nthe time of that Emperor. This curious book was brought to Pisa, and,\nwhen Pisa was taken by the Florentines, transferred to Florence,\nwhere it is still preserved.\" The Code, Pandects, and Institutes are\nstill received as common law in Germany, Bohemia, Hungary, Poland,\nand Scotland in their entirety, and partly so in France, Spain, and\nItaly.\n\n[63] _Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 201.\n\n[64] _Encyclop\u00e6dia Metropolitana._ London, 1846\n\n[65] _Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 146.\n\n[66] _Nov. Just. 123_, c. 21-23.\n\n[67] _Middle Ages_, vol. ii. p. 149.\n\n[68] Sir William Jones, a learned scholar and able jurist, was of\nopinion that the invention of trial by jury could be traced to the\nancient Greeks, while Blackstone pretends that the credit of it is\ndue to the Saxons who brought the custom with them to England; but\nHallam and other superior authorities maintain that the canon quoted\nin the text is the first germ on record of this great distinguished\nfeature of English common law, and that it was not till long after\nthe advent of the Normans that it assumed its present systematic form.\n\n[69] _Wilkins_, p. 100.\n\n[70] P. 415.\n\n[71] _Ingulph_, p. 36. Nicholl's _Lit. Anec._ vol. i. p. 28.\n\n[72] Peter of Blois, _Epist._ vol. i. 3. Paris, 1519.\n\n[73] _Middle Ages_, p. 150.\n\n[74] The continued encroachments of the crown on the rights of the\nbarons and their tenants led to an armed league against John I., the\nleading spirit of which was the intrepid Archbishop of Canterbury\nand the General, Robert Fitzwalter, who took the title of \"Marshal\nof the Army of God and of Holy Church.\" The result was a timely\nconcession of the king, which was granted in the form of a Great\nCharter. The importance of many of the liberal guarantees set forth\nin that instrument has departed with the special evils that gave\nrise to them, but many of a more general nature and such as related\nto cheap, speedy, and impartial justice, have become integral parts\nof the British Constitution. As to the document itself, D'Israeli\nrelates the following curious circumstance: \"Sir Thomas Cotton one\nday at his tailor's discovered that the man was holding in his hand,\nready to cut up for measures, an original _magna charta_, with all\nits appendages of seals and signatures. He bought the curiosity for\na trifle, and recovered in this manner what had been given over for\nlost. This anecdote is told by Colomies, who long resided and died\nin this country. An original _magna charta_ is preserved in the\nCottonian Library; it exhibits marks of dilapidation, but whether\nfrom the invisible scythe of time or the humble scissors of a tailor\nI leave to arch\u00e6ological inquiry.\"\n\n[75] _Enc. Brit._, art. \"Law,\" p. 413.\n\n[76] _Institutes_, b. 1, tit. 1, \u00a7 14.\n\n\n\n\nTO THE CRUCIFIED.[77]\n\n\n    See how fond science, with unwearied gaze,\n        Eyes on the sun's bright disk each fiery vent,\n        And from his flaming crown each ray up-sent\n    Searches, as miners, in their furnace-blaze--\n\n    Seek trace of gold. But who to thee doth raise\n        His eyes the while? Who, with true heart intent,\n        Scans thy sharp crown, thy bosom's yawning rent,\n    And peers into its depths with love's amaze?\n\n    Let me, at least, come near the abysmal side,\n        And reach out to the heart which throbs within.\n        I am oppressed with woe and shame and sin;\n    Oh! suffer me within that cleft to hide!\n        There glows the fire which purifies each stain;\n        There burns the love which bids me live again.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[77] Thoughts suggested by reading, in _Nature_, an account of the\nsolar eclipse of December, 1870.\n\n\n\n\nLAS ANIMAS[78]\n\n\n_Don Fernan._ Uncle Romance, I am coming in, although it don't rain.\n\n_Uncle Romance._ Welcome, Se\u00f1or Don Fernan. Your worship comes to\nthis, your house, like the sun, to illumine it. Has your worship any\ncommands?\n\n_Don F._ I am hungry for a story, Uncle Romance.\n\n_Uncle R._ Story again! Se\u00f1or, does your worship think that my yarns\nare like Don Crispin's titles, that were past counting? Your worship\nmust excuse me; I'm in a bad way to-day; my memory is broken-winded,\nand my wits are heavier than bean-broth. But, not to disappoint your\nworship, I'll call my Chana.[79] Ch-a-a-a-na! Sebas-ti-a-a-na! What\nails the woman? She is getting to be like the Marquis of Montegordo,\nwho remained mute, blind, and deaf.[80] Ch-a-a-na!!\n\n_Aunt Sebastiana._ What do you mean, man, by bawling like a cowherd?\nOh! Se\u00f1or Don Fernan is here. God be with you, se\u00f1or! How is your\nworship?\n\n_Don F._ Never better, Aunt Sebastiana; and you are well?\n\n_Aunt S._ Ay! no, se\u00f1or; I'm fallen away like a lime-kiln.\n\n_Don F._ Why, what has been the matter with you?\n\n_Uncle R._ The same that ailed the other one who was sunning herself:\n\n      \"_Una vieja estaba al sol\n      Y mirando al almanaque:\n      En cuando en cuando decia,\n      'Ya va la luna menguante.'_\"\n\n      \"An old woman was sunning herself\n      And studying the almanac:\n      From time to time she said,\n      'The moon is waning already.'\"\n\n_Aunt S._ No, se\u00f1or, it isn't that. God and his dear mother do not\ntake away our flesh, but the child when he is born, and the mother\nwhen she dies; and my son--my own life--\n\n_Uncle R._ There, Chana, don't mention Juan, the big hulk, with more\nribs than a frigate.[81]\n\n_Aunt S._ Don't believe it, se\u00f1or; he just talks to hear himself,\nand don't know what he's saying. That boy of mine is more gentle and\nreasonable; he wouldn't say scat to the cat. He has served in the\narmy six years, and has got his lights snuffed.[82]\n\n_Uncle R._ His lights are those of midnight. He entered the uniform,\nbut the uniform hasn't entered him.[83]\n\n_Don F._ But what is the trouble, Aunt Sebastiana?\n\n_Aunt S._ Se\u00f1or, he can't get work.\n\n_Don F._ Oh! I'll give him work, if you'll tell me a story.\n\n_Aunt S._ My man, here, would do it better. Your worship knows that\nhe has the name of being such a good story-teller. He never wants\nfor a tale.\n\n_Don F._ That is true; but to-day he's not in a talking mood.\n\n_Aunt S._ If I hadn't--\n\n_Uncle R._ Come, come, woman, don't keep his worship in expectation,\nlike a watch-dog. A story, and a good one; for you could talk if you\nwere under water.\n\n_Aunt S._ Would your worship like to hear about the _animas_?\n\n_Don F._ Without delay. Let us hear about the _animas_.\n\n_Aunt S._ There was once a poor woman who had a niece that she\nbrought up as straight as a bolt. The girl was a good girl, but very\ntimid and bashful. The dread of what might become of this child, if\nshe should be taken away, was the poor old woman's greatest anxiety.\nTherefore, she prayed to God, night and day, to send her niece a kind\nhusband.\n\nThe aunt did errands for the house of a gossip of hers that kept\nboarders. Among the guests of this house was a great nabob, who\ncondescended to say that he would marry if he could find a girl\nmodest, industrious, and clever. You may be sure that the old woman's\near was wide open. A few days afterwards, she told the nabob that he\nwould find what he was looking for in her niece, who was a treasure,\na grain of gold, and so clever that she painted even the birds of the\nair. The gentleman said that he would like to know her, and would\ngo to see her the next day. The old woman ran home so fast that she\nnever saw the path, and told her niece to tidy up the house, and to\ncomb her hair, and dress herself, the next morning, with great care,\nfor they were going to have company.\n\nWhen the gentleman came, the next day, he asked the girl if she knew\nhow to spin.\n\n\"Spin, is it?\" answered the aunt.\n\n\"She takes the hanks down like glasses of water.\"\n\n\"What have you done, madam?\" cried the niece when the gentleman had\ngone, after giving her three hanks of flax to spin for him. \"What\n_have_ you done? And I don't know how to spin!\"\n\n\"Go along,\" said the aunt, \"go along, for a poor article that will\nsell well, _and don't set your foot down_,[84] but let it be as God\nwill.\"\n\n\"Into what a thorn-brake you have put me, madam!\" said the niece,\ncrying.\n\n\"Well, see that you get out of it,\" answered the aunt; \"but these\nthree hanks must be spun, for your fortune depends upon them.\"\n\nThe poor girl went to her room in sore distress, and betook herself\nto imploring the blessed souls, for which she had great devotion.\n\nWhile she prayed, three beautiful souls, clothed in white, appeared\nto her, and told her not to be troubled, for they would help her in\nreturn for the good she had done them by her prayers; and, taking\neach one a hank, they changed the flax into thread as fine as your\nhair in less time than would be worth one's while to name.\n\nWhen the nabob came, the next day, he was astonished to see the\nresult of so much diligence united with so much skill.\n\n\"Did I not tell your worship so!\" exclaimed the old woman, beside\nherself with delight.\n\nThe gentleman asked the girl if she knew how to sew.\n\n\"And why shouldn't she?\" answered the aunt with spirit. \"Pieces of\nsewing are no more in her hands than cherries would be in the big\nsnake's mouth.\"[85]\n\nThe gentleman then left her linen to make him three shirts, and, not\nto tire your worship, it happened just as it had the day before; and\nthe same took place on the day after, when the nabob brought a satin\nwaistcoat to be embroidered; except that, when, in answer to her many\ntears and great fervor, the souls appeared and said to the girl,\n\"Don't be troubled, we are going to embroider this waistcoat for\nyou,\" they added, \"but it must be upon a condition.\"\n\n\"What condition?\" inquired the girl anxiously.\n\n\"That you ask us to your wedding.\"\n\n\"Am I going to be married?\" said the girl.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the souls, \"to that rich man.\"\n\nAnd so it turned out, for, when the gentleman came, the next day, and\nsaw his waistcoat so exquisitely wrought that it seemed as though\nhands of flesh could not have touched it, and so beautiful that to\nlook at it fairly took away his eyesight, he told the aunt that he\nwanted to marry her niece.\n\nThe aunt was ready to dance for joy. Not so the niece, who said to\nher: \"But, madam, what will become of me when my husband finds out\nthat I don't know how to do anything?\"\n\n\"Go along! _and don't make up your mind_,\" answered the aunt. \"The\nblessed souls that have helped you in other straits are not going to\ndesert you in this.\"\n\nOn the wedding-day, when the feasting was at its height, three old\nwomen entered the parlor. They were so beyond anything ugly that the\nnabob was struck dumb with horror.\n\nThe first had one arm very short, and the other so long that it\ndragged on the ground; the second was humped and crooked; and the\neyes of the third stuck out like a crab's, and were redder than a\ntomato.\n\n\"Jesus, Maria!\" said the astonished gentleman to his bride, \"who are\nthose three scarecrows?\"\n\n\"They are three aunts of my father,\" she replied, \"that I invited to\nmy wedding.\"\n\nThe nabob, who was mannerly, went to speak to the aunts and find them\nseats.\n\n\"Tell me,\" he said to the first, \"what makes one of your arms so\nshort and the other so long?\"\n\n\"My son,\" answered the old woman, \"it was spinning so much that made\nthem grow that way.\"\n\nThe nabob hurried to his wife and told her to burn her distaff and\nspindle, and to take care that she never let him see her spin.\n\nHe immediately asked the second old woman what made her so humpbacked\nand crooked.\n\n\"My son,\" she answered, \"I grew so by working all the while at my\nbroidery-frame.\"\n\nWith three strides the gentleman put himself beside his wife, and\nsaid to her: \"Go this minute, and burn your broidery-frame, and take\ncare that in the lifetime of God I do not catch you with another.\"\n\nThen he went to the third old woman, and asked her what made her eyes\nlook so red and as if they were going to burst?\n\n\"My son,\" she answered, giving them a frightful roll, \"this comes of\ncontinual sewing, and of keeping my head bent over the work.\"\n\nBefore the words were out of her mouth, the nabob was at his wife's\nside: \"Go,\" said he, \"gather all your needles and thread, and throw\nthem into the well, and bear in mind that the day I find you sewing,\nI will sue for a divorce. The sight of the halter on another's neck\nis warning enough for me.\"\n\n_Aunt S._ And now, Se\u00f1or Don Fernan, my story is ended; I hope that\nit has pleased you?\n\n_Don F._ Ever so much, Aunt Sebastiana; but what I learn from it\nis, that the souls, notwithstanding that they are blessed, are very\ntricky.\n\n_Aunt S._ Now, se\u00f1or, and is your worship going to insist upon\ndoctrine in a romance, as if it were an example? Why, stories are\nonly to make us laugh, and grow better without precept or name of\nlesson. God will have a little of all.\n\n_Don F._ True, Aunt Sebastiana; and what you express with your simple\ngood sense is more wholesome than the critical reverence of the\noverstrict. But, uncle, I am not going without another to correspond\nwith this, and it is your turn now. If, as I think you have told me\nthat you were on other occasions, you are a devotee of San Tomas,[86]\nhere are some Havanas as an offering to his saintship.\n\n_Uncle R._ Not to disoblige your worship.\n\n_Don F._ But I must have the story; I want it for a purpose.\n\n_Uncle R._ By which your worship means to say that, without an\n_ochavo_, you can't make up the _real_.[87] Well, let me think. Since\nthe talk is about _animas, animas_ it is. Their sodality in a certain\nplace had for mayordomo a poor _bread-lost_[88] of a member, one of\nthose who are always like the sheep that misses the mouthful.[89]\nHe was without a cloak, and went with teeth chattering and limbs\nbenumbed with cold. What does he do but go and order himself a cloak\nmade, and, without so much as saying _chuz_ or _muz_,[90] or by\nyour leave, sirs, take money from the funds of the _animas_ to pay\nfor it. When it came home, he put it on, and went into the street\nas consequential and _high-stomached_ as those rich folks recently\nraised from the dust. But at every step he took, some one gave the\ncloak a jerk, and though he kept a sharp lookout he could not see\nwho. The instant he drew it up on the left shoulder, down it slid\nfrom the right, causing him to keep a continual hitch, hitch. You\nwould have thought he had a thorn in his foot.\n\nAs he went along, pestered and chap-fallen, trying to make out what\nit could mean, he met a gossip of his, who was mayordomo to the\n_Hermandad del Sant\u00edsimo_.[91] This fellow was stalking loftily,\nfilling the street with his air that said, _Get out of the way, I am\ncoming_. After \"How d'ye do?\" this one asked the other, \"What is the\nmatter, comrade, that you seem so down at the mouth lately?\"\n\n\"Matter enough!\" answered he of the souls, pulling his cloak up on\nthe right shoulder while it slipped off from the left. \"Know that\nin the beginning of the winter I found myself in difficulties. I\nhad sown a _pegujar_[92] without seeing the color of wheat. My wife\nbrought me two boys, when, with the nine I had already, one would\nhave been too many; the delivery cost her a long sickness, and me\nthe eyes of my face. In few, I was just stuck to the wall like a\nstar-lizard, and hungrier than an ex-minister. I had to borrow money\nof the souls to get this cloak; but what the seven ails it I don't\nknow, for, whenever I put it on, it seems as though somebody was\ngiving it a pull here and a jerk there. Two rudder-pins couldn't hold\nit fast to my shoulders.\"\n\n\"You did wrong, my friend,\" responded the steward of El Sant\u00edsimo.\n\"If, like me, you had taken a loan of a great powerful and _giving_\npersonage, you wouldn't have to go about as you do, chased and\npersecuted for the debt. If you borrow of miserable destitute\nwretches, what can you expect but that the poor things will try to\nget back their own when they need it so much?\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[78] \"The Souls\"--generally said of souls in purgatory.\n\n[79] Diminutive for Sebastiana.\n\n[80]\n\n      \"El Marques de Montegordo\n      Que se qued\u00f3 mudo ciego y sordo.\"\n\nSaid of those who do not wish to speak, see, or hear.\n\n[81] Very obstinate.\n\n[82] _Tiene las luces espabiladas._ He has his lights snuffed,\n_i.e._, wits brightened--a common expression.\n\n[83] _Ha entrado en la casaca pero la casaca no ha entrado en \u00e9l._\nThough he has put on soldier clothes, he hasn't gained wit by a\nsoldier's experience.\n\n[84] _Dejarse ir_, rule of rustic grammar, literally equivalent to\n\"don't commit yourself.\"\n\n[85] The _Tarasca_, or mammoth snake--an immense frame covered with\ncanvas, and painted to resemble a snake--which is carried in front of\nthe procession on the feast of Corpus Christi.\n\n[86] Saint Thomas is the patron of smokers.\n\n[87] A little more than a farthing, as if he had said, \"Without the\nfarthing, you can't make the fip.\"\n\n[88] _Pan perdido._\n\n[89] _Oveja que bala bocado pierde._ The sheep that baas misses a\nmouthful.\n\n[90] Without saying _chuz_ or _muz_--without saying anything.\n\n[91] Sodality of the Blessed Sacrament.\n\n[92] Field hired of the town.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT JOHN DWARF.\n\n\n      One day a hermit father in God,\n      Planting in earth a pilgrim's rod,\n      For holy obedience did pray\n      Dwarf John to water it every day.\n\n      From the far river daily brought\n      Silent John his water-pot;\n      As 'twere a soul's task done for God,\n      For three long years he watered the rod.\n\n      When lo! the dry wood forth did shoot,\n      And bear of obedience flower and fruit!\n      Water thy barren heart with tears,\n      And the same shall happen in good three years.\n\n\n\n\nHOW ROME LOOKED THREE CENTURIES AGO.[93]\n\n\nLet us suppose a company of travellers through Italy--strangers from\nforeign climes, England, Germany, and France--reaching Rome at the\nperiod of the accession of Sixtus V. to the throne of St. Peter.\nApproaching the Eternal City by the road from the north, they find\nthemselves before the Porta del Popolo.\n\nLet us go in with them, and through their eyes see the Rome of that\nday.\n\nOn entering the gates, they pass into an open place of irregular\nshape. A large convent occupies nearly the entire eastern side,\nwhich, with the graceful _campanile_, or bell-tower, of Santa Maria\ndel Popolo, and the high houses with wide portals between the Corso,\nthe Ripetta, and the Babuino, are the only edifices visible. The\nobelisk is not yet placed there by Sixtus V., and the two little\nchurches with their heavy cupolas, so well known to the modern\ntourist, and the other buildings now seen there--the work of Pius\nVII. and the architect Valadier--did not then exist. The Piazza del\nPopolo was then less symmetrical, but more picturesque. Wayfarers on\nhorseback and on foot pass to and fro; muleteers arrive and depart,\ndriving before them lines of mules and beasts of burden. In the\ncentre of the place women are washing at a circular basin. Idlers\nfollow and gaze at the strangers while they make their declaration to\nthe _bargel_, or public authority, and submit their effects to the\nexamination of the custom officials. These preliminaries through, our\ntravellers may pass into the city by a street leading around the base\nof the Pincian Hill, by another going toward the Tiber, both of which\nhave long ceased to exist, or by the well-known Corso. Some find\ntheir way to the then celebrated and already venerable hostelry,\n\n\nTHE BEAR,\n\nwidely known and greatly in vogue ever since the reign of Sixtus IV.\nIts peculiar octagon pillars fix the period of its construction.\nStrange to relate, this patriarch of hotels, which has seen four\ncenturies and twenty generations of travellers pass over its head and\nthrough its halls, has continued in existence, and is still open as\na tavern in Rome to this day. True, its guests are now no longer, as\nthey were in the sixteenth century, such personages of distinction\nas foreign prelates, noted scholars, philosophers like Montaigne,\nand, soon afterward, the earliest known tourists. Its inmates and\nfrequenters of the nineteenth century are now country traders, cattle\ndealers, and wagoners.\n\nOthers of our travellers who intend to make a longer stay in Rome\nseek out the houses in the neighborhood of the Pantheon or the\nMinerva, nearly all of which are let out to strangers in rooms or\nsuites. These apartments are luxuriously fitted up and ornamented\nwith the then famous Cordova leather hangings, and richly sculptured\nand gilded furniture. Everything is brilliant to the eye, but the\nnineteenth century tourist would have found fault with the lack of\ncleanliness and the stinted supply of fresh linen.\n\nWith yet others of these travellers, let us enter\n\n\nTHE CORSO,\n\nthe Via Lata of the ancient Romans. There is no sign of business\non it at this early day. But few of the aristocracy have as yet\ntransferred their residences here, but it already wears an air of\nlife and animation, and is well filled at the hours of the promenade.\n\nWe pass along between vineyards and vegetable gardens. A single large\nedifice just completed strikes the stranger's attention. It is the\nmagnificent Ruspoli palace, built by Rucellai, the Florentine banker,\nupon the designs of his countryman Ammanati.\n\nNow we reach the Via Condotti, to-day well-known to every American\nwho ever saw Rome. Let us turn into it to the left, and traverse it\nto the Piazza della Trinita (now Piazza di Spagna), whence we may\nscale the hill above and obtain a commanding view of the entire city.\n\nIn doing this, we pass through the then worst quarter of Rome,\nphysically and morally, for the triangle formed by the Corso, the Via\nCondotti, and the Babuino was at once of the most evil repute and the\nmost unhealthy in all Rome. In this quarter were sure to break out\nall the epidemics which at that period occasionally decimated the\npopulation of Rome. Seeking to mount\n\n\nTHE PINCIAN HILL,\n\nthe traveller of that day might have looked in vain for the broad\nflight of easy marble steps we now see there, and he ascended by a\nsteep and narrow staircase. On reaching the summit, he found himself\non the _collis hortulorum_ of the Romans, and saw it still covered\nwith vineyards and tilled fields, and the comparatively modern\ninnovation of the garden of the Villa Medici. The elegant world of\nRome in 1585 had to content themselves with taking their promenade\nand their enjoyment of the evening air about the Porta del Popolo,\nand knew naught of the charming promenade, the delightful walks, the\npurer breeze, and the beautiful view which later generations enjoy on\nthe hill above it.\n\nThe great painters of the succeeding age who came to Rome, the\nCarracci, the Domenichinos, the Guidos, and the Salvator Rosas, were\nthe first to discover the attractions of the Pincian Hill, and,\nbraving custom, lack of accommodation, the bad neighborhood, and\nthe unhealthy contiguity of the quarter below, were the first to\nestablish themselves upon it. This was the foundation of the modern\nPincian settlement.\n\nSome years ago, the writer of this article occupied apartments in\nthe first house to the right on reaching the summit of the Pincian\nsteps. The tradition of the house ran to the effect that these\nrooms had been occupied by Salvator Rosa; and if, as they say, he\nselected them for the sake of their view of the setting sun, he chose\nwell, for all the sunsets of Rome may there be seen to the best\nadvantage. As an American, however, views of the setting sun in Italy\nwere not specially attractive to us, and we always regretted for\nSalvator Rosa's sake that he had never seen a transatlantic sunset,\ncompared with which those at Naples and Rome are tame spectacles.\nThe traditional \"beauty of an Italian sunset\" is one of the many\nEnglish provincialisms we have adopted and believed in along with\nnumerous other errors embalmed in the literature of England. But we\nforget that we are standing on the Pincian in 1585. All is silent and\ndeserted around us, and Rome is spread out at our feet.\n\nTo the left are the salient points, the seven hills--for the Pincian\nwas not one of them--the towers of the Capitol, the ruins of the\npalace of the C\u00e6sars in the Farnese gardens on the Palatine, the\nbelfry of Santa Maria Maggiore on the Esquiline, the Quirinal, as yet\nwithout the imposing mass of the pontifical palace. The Rospigliosi\npalace was not yet built, but the villa of Cardinal Sforza is seen,\nthe same afterward known as the Barberini palace. We turn our eyes\nupon the lower city--inhabited Rome--and with difficulty make out\nbut three or four cupolas. On the other hand, we see a perfect\nforest of towers on every side, some of them of prodigious size. On\nthe left bank of the Tiber, many of these towers have of late years\ndisappeared, but the Trastevere, as might be expected, is still\nfull of them--so full, indeed, that a distant view of that quarter\npresents the appearance of a comb turned teeth upward. At that\nperiod, these towers were the universal appendage of an aristocratic\ndwelling. San Gemiguiano near Sienna is the only city in all Italy\nwhich has preserved them to this day.\n\nAs our stranger of three hundred years ago looks over Rome and\nlistens to the confused noises which meet his ear, he is struck\nwith the rarity of the sound of bells and with the small number of\nchurches discernible. The great Catholic reaction consequent on the\nReformation had for fifty years moved souls, but had not yet begun\nto move the stones. It is the following era which is to imprint\nupon Rome the architectural marks of the church triumphant. Later\nin the day, when our strangers shall have descended into the city\nand entered the churches, they will be struck with the barrenness of\ntheir interiors, and with the absence of paintings. They are probably\nignorant of the fact that in Italy, during the middle ages, there\nwas but one altar in a church, that there alone Mass was celebrated,\nthat the mosaics and frescoes came in with architectural innovation,\nand that only toward the end of the sixteenth century were altars and\noil-paintings multiplied with the side chapels.\n\nAnd yet this comparative quiet of the city was animation itself,\ncompared with the sights and sounds discernible from the same point\nat the period when the popes returned to Rome from Avignon.\n\n\nROME IN 1400.\n\nThe residence of the C\u00e6sars was covered with fields, vineyard,\nand pasture. The Pantheon, the Coliseum, some ruins, and detached\ncolumns alone arose over the surrounding waste as witnesses of former\ngrandeur.\n\nIt was at this period that the Forum received the name of \"The\nCow Pasture\" (Campo Vaccino). A remnant of life yet remained in\nthe plain extending between the Tiber, the Pincian Hill, and the\nCapitoline, but the total population of Rome was reduced to 17,000\nsouls, the great majority of them huddled together and crowded in\nhovels clustered under the shadow of the baronial and aristocratic\nstrongholds. High battlemented towers filled the city. Of the scores\nin the Trastevere, that of the Auguilara family exists to this day.\nOn the Tiberine island arose the Frangipani towers, on the left bank\nthose of the Orsini, from the Porta del Popolo to the Quirinal those\nof the Colonna, while the towers of the Mellini and the Sanguigni may\nstill be seen on the site of the stadium of Domitian.\n\nOf all the seven hills of Rome, one only had not fallen into the\nhands of the barons. The Capitoline was still held by the people. But\ncommerce, industry, and the arts had all disappeared. Rome had long\nbeen cut off from connection with the active world, and when the work\nof material revival and rebuilding began, not only architects and\nsculptors, but stone masons and carpenters had to be brought in from\nTuscany and Umbria.\n\n\nAN ARCHITECTURAL RETROSPECT.\n\nUnder the pontificates of Sixtus IV. and his two successors,\nPintelli, a pupil of Brunellesco, ornamented Rome with such monuments\nas San Pietro _in Montorio_, the fa\u00e7ade of St. Peter, and the Sistine\nChapel. He brought to his work the boldness and taste of his master,\nwho had made profound study of the monuments of ancient Rome.\n\nThis was the period of the first _renaissance_, with its charms\nand imperfections, at once timid and capricious, imitating the\nmodels of antiquity in their details, but utterly mistaking the\nproportions which are the essential, while succeeding brilliantly in\nthe accessories and ornaments borrowed from the ancients and used in\nprofusion with some endeavor to adapt them to the ideas and needs of\nthe period. The fundamental principle of architecture, which requires\nthat the exterior should express or respond to the use for which the\ninterior is destined, was unknown to Pintelli.\n\nTo break the monotony of the lines, the fa\u00e7ade of any given building\nwas, as it were, framed, decoration was freely used, and the object\nwas to please the eye, no matter by what means. At that day, the\narchitect was also the painter, and the majority of artists were\nboth. The first _renaissance_ obtained its apogee toward the year\n1500. In the nature of things it had then outlived its day, and a\nchange became indispensable at the risk of degradation.\n\nFortunately Bramante was ready to answer the call. He was from\nUmbria, and Raphael was his nephew. He had studied in the north of\nItaly, where, amid plains devoid of stone, the architect was forced\nto use brick. Hence the novelty of combination introduced by him in\nRome, whose inexhaustible stone quarries were such ancient monuments\nas the Coliseum. It is from the absence of heavy building-stone and\nthe contrast of the German taste of the Longobards with the Byzantine\nstyle of Ravenna that the Lombard style is begotten. It brought\nwith it precisely what the _renaissance_ most needed, namely, its\nexquisite sentiment of proportions, and it forms the transition\nbetween the two schools of the _renaissance_, the latter of which\nformed the golden era of architecture in Italy.\n\nIts reign in Rome has left indelible traces. Its productions--and\namong them are the court of St. Damas, the Belvedere, the galleries\nof the Vatican, the Giraud palace--were the pride of the age.\nThey taught the comprehension of proportions, the calculation of\nperspective, the culture of harmony of detail and _ensemble_,\nreformed false taste, and created an epoch in profane architecture.\nWith increase of public security, even the Roman barons began to\nunderstand that the greatest beauty of the architectural art\nmight be found elsewhere than in a high tower or a battlemented\nblock-house. Even the _mezzo-ceto_, or middle class, began to\ncontract a taste for something beyond the absolutely necessary,\nand sought to adorn even their modest habitations. A private\ndwelling-house built at this period and exclusively _bramantesque_\nmay still be seen in Rome on the _strada papale_, opposite the\n_Governo Vecchio_. It yet bears the date of its construction (1500)\nand the name of its builder.\n\nAfter the death of Bramante appeared Raphael, Michael Angelo, Giulio\nRomano, and Balthasar Peruzzi, who, prodigal of their treasures of\ngenius, created a golden age.\n\nRomano's Villa Madama became the type of the country-seat; Peruzzi's\nFarnesina, that of the modern palace. Raphael, more as painter than\nas architect, composed the designs of the palace Vidoni. It was the\ngreat epoch of the culture of simplicity in grandeur, of disdain for\nthe small and the superfluous, of faithful and noble expression of\nthe idea conceived.\n\nThe models of antiquity were still followed, but they were\ntransformed. The architect translated modern conceptions into\nthe sonorous but dead and strange language of the old Romans. In\ninterior ornamentation, however, the artist could give free rein to\nhis inspirations, and throw off the trammels of the severe rules\nscrupulously followed as to the fa\u00e7ade and the general composition of\nthe design. Alas! it was here they planted the germs of degeneration\nand decay. Public taste--never a safe guide--seized upon and clung\nto these prodigalities of an exuberant and fantastic imagination\nsupposed to be inexhaustible. At Florence, in his work on the chapel\nof the Medicis, Michael Angelo was the first to enter this flowery\nbut treacherous path.\n\nWe see and admire these niches, windows, and ornaments, charming\nindeed to the eye, but which have no _raison d'\u00eatre_. It was at a\nlater period, under the pontificate of Paul III., that the painter\nof the \"Last Judgment\" and the sculptor of \"Moses\" revealed himself\nat Rome, as an architect stamped his work on the Farnese palace,\nand astonished the world by reconstructing St. Peter's. Soon this\nstyle gained the upper hand. Simplicity yielded to riches; logic to\ncaprice; unrestricted liberty succeeded the voluntary curb which the\ngreat masters of the epoch had imposed upon themselves. Presently\ncame pauses. Halts were made. As in all human affairs, action and\nreaction succeeded. Not so much in details as in _ensemble_, Vignoli\nin Rome, Palladio at Vicenza, and to a certain degree Scamazzi in\nVenice, brought back architecture to the sobriety of the commencement\nof the century.\n\nBut the death of Michael Angelo appeared to have completely\ndemoralized the architects who survived. For thirty years he had\nreigned supreme. In him alone had the popes confidence; and upon\narchitects employed by them, they imposed the obligation of following\nhim. Piero Ligorio, architect of St. Peter, was dismissed because he\nmanifested an intention to put aside Michael Angelo's plans. In thus\nofficially guarding the manes of the dead master, they apparently\nhoped to transfer his genius to those who succeeded him. But it was a\nsad and fatal mistake.\n\nThe amount of building effected in Rome during the last third of the\nsixteenth century has never, probably, been exceeded. In examining\nthe productions of that epoch, the struggle between the servile\nimitators of Buonarotti and the men of progress, desirous, but\nthrough lack of originality incapable, of emancipating themselves,\nis readily discerned. But let us leave this retrospect, descend the\nsteps of the Pincian Hill, and, traversing the Piazza di Spagna and\nthe Via Condotti, enter\n\n\nTHE CORSO AGAIN,\n\nat the points where to-day's tourist sees the Via della Fontanella,\nby which he goes toward the bridge of St. Angelo, on his way to St.\nPeter's. Here our travellers of 1585, passing under the arch of\nMarcus Aurelius, which separated the Corso into two distinct parts,\nand was afterwards swept away by Alexander VII. to straighten and\nwiden the thoroughfare, find themselves really in Rome. On either\nside are solidly built houses without windows or balconies, covered\nwith frescoes, and so high that the sun reaches the pavement only\nat mid-day. Looking down the Corso, the traveller perceives at its\nextremity, above the _palazetto_ of St. Mark, the battlemented\nconvent of _Ara C\u0153li_, and the tower of the Capitol. Leaving the\nColonna place and the Antonine column to the right, our travellers\nsoon reach the place and palace of St. Mark, with its immense\nbattlemented fa\u00e7ades, surmounted by a colossal tower built of stone\nalmost entirely taken from the Coliseum. With the exception of some\nfew modifications in the windows of the fa\u00e7ade fronting on the Via\ndel Ges\u00fa, and in the roof of the tower which formerly projected,\nthis palace--now known as the Austrian--to-day appears to us as the\ntraveller saw it three hundred years ago. Near by is the Church and\nConvent of the Apostles, where in after-years were shown the cells\noccupied by the two friars who became respectively Sixtus V. and\nClement XIV. (Ganzanelli). When the monks of this convent called\nin a body upon Sixtus V. to felicitate him on his accession, the\ncook of the community went up alone to the pope at the close of\nthe audience. \"Holy Father,\" said he, \"you doubtless remember the\nwretched repasts of which you partook when with us?\" Sixtus replied\nthat the expression \"wretched repasts\" perfectly described the meals\nin question. \"Well,\" continued the cook, \"the cause was the want of\ngood water--give us water.\"\n\nSixtus declared that this was the only reasonable demand yet made of\nhim, and immediately ordered the construction in the ancient court\nof a beautiful fountain, which, although much injured by time, yet\nexists.\n\nStill progressing towards the Capitol, our travellers pass the\n_Ges\u00fa_. In the small house adjoining it Ignatius Loyola died, and\nSt. Francis Borgia has but lately expired there. And now they\nascend to the Capitol by the _cordonata_ of Michael Angelo. Looking\nstill onward, they catch a glimpse of the Forum (_Campo Vaccino_),\nenlivened only by droves of browsing cattle and here and there a\nsearcher of buried antique statues. Beyond the Arch of Titus all is\nsilent solitude.\n\nThe modern, active, living\n\n\nROME OF THAT DAY\n\nwas within the triangle bounded by the Corso, the Tiber, and the\nCapitol. Our travellers turn their faces towards the St. Angelo\nBridge, and approach it by long, narrow, and crooked streets, nearly\ncorresponding with the Via Giulia and the Monserrato which we to-day\ntraverse. This was the Faubourg St. Germain of the period, full of\npalaces, but stately and silent. The strangers find the activity,\nmovement, display, and exuberant activity of Rome in the street now\nknown as the _Banchi_, then lined with the residences of wealthy\nbankers, in the rich Spanish quarter beyond the Piazza Navona, in the\n_Tordinone_ and _Coronari_.\n\nFrom the rising to the setting of the sun, throngs of people fill\nthese badly paved thoroughfares, which are more thickly lined with\npalaces as they approach the bridge. Our strangers are impressed with\nthe great crowd of people, and are of the opinion that it exceeds\nthat of the Marais in Paris, and is second only to the throngs\nthey saw in Venice. About the Pantheon and the Minerva are the\nhouses already mentioned where travellers and visitors to Rome find\nfurnished suites of apartments--the Fifth Avenue and St. Nicholas\nHotels of the period. A few years later (1595), on beholding this,\nthe Venetian ambassador writes that \"Rome has reached the apogee of\nits grandeur and prosperity.\"\n\nWith difficulty a passage through the crowd is effected, and the\ntask is rendered even dangerous by the large number of carriages in\ncirculation.\n\nIn 1594, there were eight hundred and eighty-three private carriages\nin the city. They were almost an essential. The great St. Charles\nBorromeo said, \"There are two things necessary in Rome--save your\nsoul and keep a carriage.\" And a singular-looking carriage it was\nto our eyes. In shape resembling a cylinder open at both ends, with\ndoors at either side, knocked and tossed about in a sort of basket on\nfour clumsy wheels. The elegants and beaux of the day usually had an\nopening in the top of the vehicle through which, as they progressed,\nthey admired fair ladies at their windows. \"They make an astrolabe\nof their carriage,\" thundered a preacher in denunciation of the\npractice. The crowd increases as the St. Angelo Bridge is approached,\nand it equals the human pressure of the period of the jubilee as\ndescribed by Dante:[94]\n\n      Come i Roman, per l'esercito molto,\n        L'anno del giubbileo, su per lo ponte\n      Hanno a passar la gente modo tolto;\n\n      Che dall' un late tutti hanno la fronte\n        Verso 'l castello, e vanno a Santo Pietro;\n      Dall' altra sponda vanno verso 'l monte (Giordano).\n\n                              _Dante_, _Inferno_, ch. xviii.\n\nNo ladies are seen. They seldom go out, and then only in carriages.\nWe find the modern Italians highly demonstrative. Their ancestors\nwere more so, as our travellers noticed at every step. Men meeting\nacquaintances in the street exchanged profound bows. Friends embraced\n\"with effusion.\" People threw themselves on their knees before those\nof whom they had favors to ask.\n\n\nDINNERS AND BANQUETS\n\nfor invited guests were sumptuous and of long duration. The culinary\nart of that epoch--as we learn from a work of Bartholomew Scarpi, the\n_Grand Vatel_ of the sixteenth century and head cook of the saintly\nPaul V., whose personal meals cost sixty cents a day, but who, in\nstate receptions, entertained magnificently--was something wonderful,\naccording to our modern ideas. For grand dinners, there were four\ncourses. The first consisted of preserved fruits and ornamented\npastry, from which, on being opened, little birds flew out, making it\nliterally a _vol au vent_. Then came the other courses composed of a\nmultitude of the most diverse dishes, poultry with all the feathers\non, capons cooked in bottles, meat, game, and fish, alternating with\nsweet dishes in confused pell-mell, utterly subversive of all our\nmodern gastronomic ideas. Some dishes were prepared with rose-water,\nand substances the most heterogeneous and contradictory were mingled\nin the same preparations. The sublimity of the style was to effect\nthe sharpest possible contrast of materials and odors.\n\nThe wines most in favor were the heady wines of Greece, the Malvoisy,\nand the great Neapolitan brands, the Lachrima and the _Mangiaguerra_,\ndescribed as black in color, powerful, spirituous, and so thick that\nit could almost be cut. So, at least, reports the Venetian Bernardo\nNavagero, writing from Rome in 1558: \"E possente e gagliardo, nero e\ntantospesso che si potria quasi tagliare.\"\n\nBefore the dessert, the cloth was removed, the guests washed their\nhands, and the table was covered with sweet dishes, highly perfumed,\npreserved eggs, and syrups.\n\nBoth before and after the repast, distinguished guests used what\nwe would now call finger-bowls and mouth-glasses, demonstratively\nand even noisily. On arising from table, bouquets of flowers were\ndistributed among the guests. From contemporaneous statements as to\nthe cost of various entertainments of that period, we should judge\nthat the Roman provision supply was much cheaper than we to-day find\nit in those marvels of modern architecture, the Washington and Fulton\nMarkets. Thus, for instance, a wedding-supper, given by a Roman\nnobleman (Gottofredi), and which was at the time (1588) noted for\nits beauty as well as its extravagance, cost five hundred crowns,\nequivalent, allowing for the difference in specie values, to about\nnine hundred dollars of our money.\n\n\nTHE HORSE-RACES ON THE CORSO,[95]\n\nduring the carnival, are, of course, witnessed by our travellers.\nThese races were formerly one of the traditional holiday amusements\nof the Piazza Navona, which is on the site of a Roman amphitheatre,\nand they were transferred to the Corso by Paul II. (1468). Seated\nin the small room of the corner of the Palazetto of St. Mark,\nwhose windows command a view of the entire length of the Corso,\nthis good-natured pontiff, who was fond of promoting the innocent\namusement of his subjects, witnessed the running, and had the\n_barberi_ (little horses) stopped at that point. The poor governors\nof Rome have ever since borne and still bear the servitude of this\ntradition. Four hundred years have gone by since Paul II. sat at the\nwindow on the Corso, but to this day the Governor of Rome, clothed\nin the official robes, whose cut and fashion have not varied a line\nin all that time, must, in the very same room and at the very same\nwindow, witness the running and have the horses stopped at the same\npoints. Under Gregory XIII. these races had somewhat degenerated.\nBuffaloes of the Campagna, as well as horses, were run, and races\nwere even made for children and for Jews. Sixtus V. reformed all this\nand made new regulations, which, with slight modifications, are to\nthis day in force.\n\n\nLITERATURE AND THE THEATRE.\n\nAt the period of which we treat, there existed a decided taste for\nthe drama--such as it then was--but it was a taste exercised under\ndifficulties. During the carnival of 1588, permission was obtained,\nas a great favor, from Sixtus V. to allow representations by the\nDesiosi troupe, at that time the most celebrated in Italy. But the\nlicense was hampered with the following conditions:\n\n_First._ The representations should take place in the daytime.\n\n_Second._ No woman should appear on the stage.\n\n_Third._ No spectator should be admitted with arms about his person.\n\nSuch a public edifice as a theatre was at that time unknown in\nItaly. True, many princes had halls constructed in their palaces for\ndramatic representations, and the Olympic Academy of Vicenza erected\na building for the purpose, which was completed on the designs of\nPalladio.\n\nAs for the dramas represented, it is easy to understand their\ninferiority when we know that Guarini's _Pastor Fido_ gained a\nreputation not yet entirely lost, by reason not of its merit, but\nbecause of the inferiority of every dramatic production of the time.\n\nThe costumes, decorations, and _mise en sc\u00e8ne_ formed the main\nattractions, but the plays themselves loudly proclaimed the decay\nof literature. They possessed neither originality, invention, nor\npoetry. When we contemplate our own elevated and purified stage\nof the present period, with its bouffe, Black Crook, blondes, and\nbrigands, how profoundly should we not pity the benighted Italians of\n1585!\n\nAbout this time, the first edition of Tasso's _Jerusalem Delivered_\nmade its appearance. Issued without the author's consent, it was both\ndefective and incorrect. In spite of the enmity of the Grand Duke\nFrancis and, what was more to be feared, of the opposition of the\nDella Cruscan Academy, the _Jerusalem_ at once achieved an immense\nsuccess--a success purely due to its beauty of diction. Contemporary\ncriticisms of Italian poets whose names have since become immortal\nread strangely now. Tasso was sneered at, Ariosto's merit seriously\ncontested, and Dante absolutely condemned.\n\n\"This poet,\" says Giuseppe Malatesta, a distinguished writer of\nthat day, \"has borrowed the wings of Icarus to remove himself as\nfar as possible from the vulgar, and, by dint of searching for\nthe sublime, he has fallen into an obscure sea of obscurities. He\nis both philosopher and theologian. Of the poet he has only the\nrhyme. To measure his hell, his purgatory, his paradise, one needs\nastrolabes. To understand them, one should constantly have at hand\nsome theologian capable of commenting upon his text. He is crude and\nbarbarous; he strives to be disgusting and obscure when it would\nreally cost him less effort to be clear and elegant, resembling\nin this certain great personages who, possessed of an admirable\ncalligraphy, nevertheless, through pure affectation, write as\nillegibly as possible.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[93] The materials for this article are found in the learned work of\nGregorovius (_Geschichte der Stadt Rom_), the publication of which,\ncommenced at Stuttgardt in 1859, is not yet fully completed; in Baron\nH\u00fcbner's _Life of Sixtus V._; Burckhardt's _Cicerone in Italy_; and\nVon Reumont's classical work on _Middle Ages Rome_.\n\n[94]\n\n      Even as the Romans, for the mighty host,\n      The year of jubilee, upon the bridge,\n      Have chosen a mode to pass the people over.\n\n      For all upon one side towards the castle\n      Their faces have and go into St. Peter's;\n      On the other side they go towards the mountain.\n\n                                  _Longfellow's Translation_\n\n\n[95] The reader will, of course, remember that these were races of\nhorses without riders.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MOTHER OF PRINCE GALITZIN.[96]\n\n\nIn presenting our American Catholic readers with a notice of the\n_Life of the Princess Amelia Galitzin_, it would be sufficient\napology to mention that this illustrious lady was the mother of the\ngreat religious pioneer of Pennsylvania--that worthy priest whose\nservices in the cause of Catholicity in our country have endeared his\nname to the American church and have kept his memory still alive in\nthe filial love born of a new generation whose fathers he evangelized.\n\nBut even if this apostle-prince had never landed on American shores;\nnever sacrificed an opulent position and a brilliant career, to labor\nas a humble missionary in the wild western forests of Pennsylvania;\nnever indelibly engraved his name, as he has done, on that soil, now\nteeming with industrial and religious life, there is that in the life\nof the princess, his mother, which would amply recommend it to our\ninterested attention.\n\nHer career was beyond the common run of lives. It was wonderful\nin its blending of the ordinary with the extraordinary. It is the\nstory of a great, strong mind--a high-principled soul, entrammelled\nin circumstances commonplace, disadvantageous, and entirely\nbeneath it, struggling for ascendency to its own level above them.\nA notice, then, of her life possesses a double interest for our\nreaders--its own intrinsic interest, and that which it borrows from\nthe foreshadowing of the great and useful life spent in our country,\nwith which we have already been made acquainted, and of which, we are\nglad to learn, we are soon to have a more extended account.\n\nThe Princess Amelia Galitzin was born at Berlin, in August, 1748. Her\nfather, the Count de Schmettau, a field-marshal of Prussia, was a\nProtestant. Her mother, the Baroness de Ruffert, was a Catholic. This\ndifference in the religion of the parents led to the understanding\nthat the children of the marriage should receive, according to their\nsex, a different religious education. Amelia, the only daughter,\nwas destined, then, to be educated in the Catholic faith. For this\npurpose she was sent, at the early age of four years, to a Catholic\nboarding-school at Breslau.\n\nIt seems that at this establishment the religious as well as the\nsecular training was sadly defective; for, at the end of nine years,\nthe young countess left the _pensionnat_ with no instruction,\nlittle piety--even that little of a false kind--and with but one\naccomplishment, a proficiency in music, the result of the cultivation\nof a great natural talent. As for literary acquirements, she scarce\ncould read or write. Another school was now selected for her, and\nthis selection reveals the negligent character of her mother, who,\nfrom failing to use a wise discretion, or to exert that softening\nand moulding influence that mothers hold as a gift from nature, may\nbe held accountable for the troubled darkness and painful wanderings\nof mind that afflicted her daughter in her curious after-career. At\nthirteen she was placed at a kind of day-college, in Berlin, directed\nby an atheist. Such a step would have been a dangerous experiment,\neven with a child of the most ordinary mind, whose impressions\nare easily effaceable, but with the self-reliant spirit and keen\nintellect that were destined to be developed in Amelia, it was more\nthan dangerous, it was a ruinous trial. The results of her eighteen\nmonths' attendance at this school were not immediately apparent,\nat least they were but negatively so. At scarcely fifteen years of\nage, she left this atheist school to become a woman of the world, by\nmaking what is technically called her entrance into society. What\nthat entailed on a member of a noble house, and in a gay capital\nlike Berlin, especially the Berlin of the eighteenth century, we\nmay well surmise. There was another feature in its society worth\nattention, beyond the stereotyped round of _l\u00e9v\u00e9es_, _soir\u00e9es_, and\nmidnight revels of high life. The great dark cloud of incredulity\nhad just settled on sunny France. France then stood at the head\nof the western nations. A reflection of her brilliancy was found\nin surrounding societies. Imitation of her tastes, literary and\nmaterial, was deemed no disgrace. Even her quick, dancing, musical\nlanguage was ludicrously set, by fashion, to the rough, guttural\ntones of the Teutonic tongue--so great was her fascinating influence.\nNo wonder, then, that the thick shadows of that dark cloud in which\nshe had shrouded her faith should have fallen heavily around her.\nThey fell on Prussia, and fell heaviest when Voltaire became the\nguest of Frederick. The f\u0153tid, contagious atmosphere floated in\non the society of her capital. To be rational was the rage, when\nrational meant incredulous. Statesmen became skilled in the new\nphilosophy. Since the king had turned philosopher, grand ladies\nsuddenly found themselves profoundly intellectual and controversial,\nand their drawing-rooms became like the _salons de Paris_--no longer\nthe frivolous halls of pleasure, the depots for the lively gossip of\nthe _niaiseries_ of life, but private school-rooms, inner circles in\naid of the grand revolt of reason against God which had already begun\nthroughout Europe.\n\nIn such society, then, did this young girl, fresh from an atheist\nschool, find herself at the age of fifteen, with no arm of a\nChristian to do battle for her soul; neither the \"shield of faith\"\nnor \"the sword of the Spirit, which is the Word of God.\" But,\nhappily, that society was not immediately to possess her young heart.\nAn _ennui_--a nameless weariness--intensified by a morbid self-love,\nnow settled on her mind. And it was in this trial that her defective\ninstruction first began to tell against her. The only relic of its\nearly impressions left her was a confused notion of the horrors of\nhell and the power of the devil, which now rose before her but to\nincrease her misery. Beyond that, she believed in nothing, hoped for\nlittle in this life, and saw not the next. True, she accompanied her\nmother to Mass on Sunday, but to her it was as an idle show. She\nunderstood as little about the ceremonies as about the text of the\ndelicately-bound French prayer-book she was obliged to hold in her\nhand. She could find nothing in what she knew or saw of religion to\nfill the void that caused the weariness of her heart. She determined\nto seek relief in reading. Her father's library was scant. So she\nsent rather a confiding request to the proprietor of a neighboring\nreading-room to supply a young lady who was anxious to improve\nherself with useful books. This gentleman's ideas of improvement and\nutility were somewhat singular, for he forthwith dispatched a large\npacket of sensational romances. With the same confiding spirit she\naccepted the selection, and novel after novel she fairly devoured,\ndevoting night and day to her new occupation. That the frivolities\nof a gay society had no attractions for her as a resource in her\nextremity, that they could not \"minister to her mind diseased,\"\nshows a soul of no ordinary mould, and shows, too, that it was not\nthrough the senses, but through the intellect, that its cravings were\nto be allayed. Comparative peace of mind returned, for she made her\nreading a very preoccupying labor by keeping a diary of its results\nand impressions. Music, always her favorite pastime, she now made her\nrecreation.\n\nShe was just beginning to taste the sweets of living in a little\npeaceful, busy world within herself, when a young lady, who had\nbeen an intimate friend of hers, was admitted to a share in her\noccupations. This resulted in not only breaking her utter isolation\nfrom society, but in leading her to mingle in it once more. The\ncalm of the previous months was not entirely undisturbed. At\nintervals the thoughts of her utter irreligiousness would conjure\nup again those appalling images of Satan and hell, and their\nrecurrence became more frequent as she relented in her labors.\nBut now in the gay drawing-room assemblies she met many ladies of\nher own rank who, professing to be Catholics, did not hesitate to\nexpress freely, in their brilliant conversations, the sentiments of\nincredulity which filled her own mind. In their example she found\nher self-justification. She believed it fashionable to think and\nact as other ladies, and so, dismissing what she now deemed her idle\nfancies, she permitted herself undisturbed to glide into the easy way\nof unbelief.\n\nBut an unseen mercy followed on her path, and soon again cast before\nher warning signs of her danger. Her fears of the supernatural grew\nagain; and this time, in spite of every example, in spite of every\neffort to treat them as fancies that could be laughed away, they\nincreased to such an extent that her health became endangered. Once\nmore she formed a plan of escape from her terrors of mind and the\nweariness they entailed--this time an unaccountable and for her\nan unexpected one. She resolved to devote herself to meditation,\nthat, as she said in her journal, \"by force of thought she might\nraise herself to union with the Supreme Being,\" and thus neutralize\nthe effects of the frightful pictures of eternal punishments which\nwearied her imagination. We cannot help seeing in this effort a noble\nstruggle of a great mind, untutored in childhood, and left in early\nyouth without guidance or encouraging support.\n\nShe immediately entered on her new project, and made great and\npersevering efforts; but she groped in the dark and made little\nprogress in meditating. Yet these efforts were not wholly unavailing.\nShe succeeded by her bare strength of thought in impressing deeply\nand thoroughly on her mind the dignity of a highly moral life, which\nled her to the conviction that everything gross or vile was utterly\nunworthy of the noble soul that dwelt within us.\n\nWhat child of sixteen have we ever known or heard of whose young life\npresents a history of mind so curious and so wonderful? Few even\nof riper years have ever displayed a mere, bare natural power of\nsoul at once so strong and so refined as that which led Amelia to so\nbeautiful a conclusion.\n\nBe that as it may, it was for her a saving result in the change that\nwas now about to come over her position in life. It was arranged at\nthis time, by her parents, that the young countess should join the\ncourt, in the capacity of lady robe-keeper to the wife of Ferdinand,\nPrince of Prussia, brother to Frederick II.\n\nIf we called the court society of that epoch gilded corruption,\nwe believe we would be epitomizing the detailed chronicle of its\ncharacter. Yet, armed with her high-souled conviction, Amelia glided\nuntainted through its seductions and scandals, though her youth and\nbeauty and the affectionate simplicity of her manners made her the\nobject of much attention.\n\nFrom the character of her mind we may well imagine that she had\nlittle relish for her new duties. To any one of a high order of\nintellect, and consequent intellectual aspirations, the mean,\nmaterial duties of arranging a wardrobe, sorting dresses, seeing them\nset out in their respective turns, and changed with every changing\nfashion--in a word, being a mere waiting-maid to any one, no matter\nof what rank, must necessarily be irksome and distasteful. And though\nwe will not draw the exaggerated sarcastic picture that Lord Macaulay\ngives of Frances Burney's life at the court of England, yet the fact\nthat the young countess stole many an hour from her irksome post\nand still more wearying ceremonious court-pleasures to enjoy the\ninstructive conversation of elderly men of known literary tastes and\nacquirements, gives us full ground for at least compassionating her\nin a position so evidently unbefitting her gifted and aspiring mind.\n\nIn her twentieth year she accompanied the princess on a summer\ntrip to the waters at Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa. It was during their\nresidence at the former place she first met and received the\naddresses of the Prince Dmitri Galitzin. The story of their love does\nnot seem to possess anything above the ordinary interest, and even\nextended over a much shorter period than is usual before marriage.\nAll we learn about it is, that the match seemed very advantageous in\nthe eyes of her protectress the princess and her brother, General\nCount de Schmettau (her mother, long extremely delicate, having died\nduring her residence at the court), and that the marriage ceremony\nwas performed with great _\u00e9clat_ in August of the same year in which\nthe proposal had been made and accepted.\n\nAlmost immediately after her marriage she had to set out with her\nhusband for the court of St. Petersburg, of which he was an attach\u00e9.\nHer sojourn, however, in the Russian capital was very brief, for soon\nafter his arrival the prince was sent as ambassador to the Hague, in\nHolland. Five years previously he had filled the same post at Paris,\nwhere he became the intimate friend of Voltaire and Helvetius. For\nthe latter he paid the expenses of the publication of his famously\ninfamous work, _De l'Esprit_. He himself seems to have been quite\na _litt\u00e9rateur_. He contributed, while in Paris, to the _Journal\ndes Savants_, and published two or three works of a scientific and\npolitical character. But to return.\n\nA new life now opened for Amelia at the Hague. She became the star of\nthe brilliant society that daily filled the halls of the palace of\nthe Prince Ambassador of Russia; she lived in courtly splendor, and\nreceived the flattery of homage that queens might have coveted.\n\nShe had now resided two years in Holland, and had given birth to two\nchildren, a daughter and a son. It may be naturally expected that\nnow the duties of a mother would bring her life and her mind to the\nlevel of ordinary interest. Not so. The routine duties of her station\nhad all along been tasteless to her. The constant round of pleasures\nwhich engaged her, the flatteries she received, in which meaner\nminds would have loved to live and revel, had for her no soothing\nor beguiling influence; not even the total change of existence and\noccupation which married life induces wrought any change upon her\nspirit. An aching void was still within her heart, and, seeing\nnothing around her with which to fill it, she began to pine away. At\nlength a strong inclination seized her, one of those yearnings for\nsome one project which swallows all our thoughts and to which all\nelse must yield; we may call it a humor precisely in Ben Jonson's\nsense:\n\n      \"When some one peculiar quality\n      Doth so possess a man that it doth draw\n      All his effects, his spirits, and his powers\n      In their confluxions, all to run one way,\n      This may be truly said to be a humor.\"\n\nThis humor was nothing less than entire abandonment of the world and\nits cares. Notwithstanding the obligations of her married life or\nthose of her position in society, she determined to retire to some\nsolitary spot, and there engage her mind in hard study of difficult\nand dry subjects.\n\nAlarmed for her health, and probably deriving little comfort from\nsuch a moody consort, her husband consented to her retiring to live\nin a small country villa a few miles from the Hague. She engaged a\ndistinguished professor of the city, named Hemsterhuys, to give her\nlessons in Greek, with a view to following under his guidance, too, a\ncourse of Greek philosophy.\n\nStrange to say, the moment she entered with ardor on this uninviting\ntask, her mind became completely calmed, and she felt a peace and\ncontentment which for years she had not known.\n\nBesides the seeking of her own peace of mind, the resting the\nweariness of her heart, she had another object in view--to prepare\nherself to be doubly the mother of her children by imparting to them\nherself a thorough education. In the six years that she toiled in\nthis seclusion, this was the great sustaining motive of her labors.\n\nWhen the children grew to the years of discretion, she relented in\nher harder studies to devote herself with no less assiduity to their\nearly instruction. Everything was made subservient to that end. Even\nthe recreations requisite for herself, and the amusements necessary\nfor them, the pleasure excursions away from home, all were designed\nto open and mature their young minds.\n\nBut in these respects Holland had but poor resources. One quickly\nwearies of its changeless lowlands. It can boast of no wild scenery\nwhich grows new at every gaze and invites repeated visits, and it\nhas few places of any peculiarly instructive interest. It was this\nconsideration that determined the princess to remove to the more\npicturesque and favored land of Switzerland, where her husband owned\na country-house near Geneva.\n\nHer preparations for this change of residence were nearly completed,\nwhen news reached her of the projects of the Abb\u00e9 de Furstenberg for\na reform in the method of public instruction.\n\nThis Abb\u00e9 de Furstenberg was one of the most remarkable men of that\nday in Germany.\n\nOf noble birth, he received a thorough civil and ecclesiastical\neducation, and at the age of thirty-five found himself chief\nadministrator, spiritual and temporal, of the principality of\nM\u00fcnster, under the prince-bishop. His administration was attended\nwith most marked success, and had brought the little state to an\nunequalled degree of prosperity, not only religious and political,\nbut even commercial and military. His latest labor was his\neducational reform regarding the method of teaching. To mature this\nscheme, he had studied, consulted, and travelled much during seven\nyears. When, at length, he published the result of his researches,\nit was received far and near with much applause, whose echoes\nhad now reached the Princess Amelia in Holland on the eve of her\ndeparture for Switzerland. She at once indefinitely deferred this\njourney, and resolved to lose no time in making the acquaintance\nof this accomplished ecclesiastic, in order to master under his\nown guidance the details of this new method of instruction. For\nthis purpose, in the May of the year 1779, she set out for M\u00fcnster,\nintending to pay only a short visit. She remained nineteen days, and,\nthough the greater part of the time was spent in the company of the\nlearned abb\u00e9, she found it impossible in so short a space to take\nin the result of his experience. This, and probably a certain charm\nwhich his great conversational powers exercised over her, made her\ndetermine to return again, and, with the permission of her husband,\nremain a whole year in M\u00fcnster before setting out for Switzerland.\nConsequently, in the same year, she took leave of her husband and her\nold preceptor Hemsterhuys, purposing not to return to the Hague,\nbut to pursue her Swiss project after her year's sojourn at M\u00fcnster.\nBut this programme was never to be carried out. Any one who has ever\nfelt the influence of our affections on our plans and schemes--how\nplastic they are beneath them, how readily they yield in their\ndirection--will easily divine the cause of this. In fact, so strong\nhad grown this intellectual friendship between the princess and the\nAbb\u00e9 de Furstenberg that every idea of going to Switzerland yielded\nbefore it; so much so that, before the end of the year, she had\npurchased a house in M\u00fcnster, and engaged a country-ch\u00e2teau for the\nsummer months of every year.\n\nAll this time she had kept up a frequent correspondence with her\nhusband and her old professor, and she had made them promise to come\nand spend as long a time as they could spare every summer at her\ncountry-seat.\n\nShe was yet in the unchristian portion of her life. In her\nconversation and communications with Hemsterhuys, she had worked\nout a complete scheme of natural virtue and happiness, which she\nembodied in a work entitled _Simon; or, The Faculties of the Soul_.\nWhile we must admit that this is a curious specimen of a mere human,\nreligionless view of a virtuous and happy life, yet we cannot allow\nthat it could have been drawn up had not some faint remembrances\nof early Christian teaching still lingered in the mind of the\nauthoress; much less can we grant that it could have been realized\nin any life without the sustaining aid of divine grace. Even if it\nwere practicable, its practicability would, from its very character,\nbe necessarily limited to a few rarely gifted minds; consequently,\nlacking the generalizing principles of the truly Christian code,\nwhich makes a life of Christian virtue accessible to all, the lowly\nand the great, the rude and the wise alike, it is assuredly a failure.\n\nShe now applied herself with great assiduity to her children's\neducation. Not content with imparting the mere rudimentary portion,\nshe aimed at giving them a higher and more thorough course of\ninstruction than most of our graduating colleges can boast. It was a\nbold task for a woman, but the order of her day at M\u00fcnster shows us\nhow little its difficulty could bend the will or weary the mind of\none who could unswervingly follow the regulations it contained.\n\nThe household rose early every morning. Some hours were devoted to\nstudy before breakfast, and soon after the lessons of the day began.\nTo these she gave six hours daily. With the exception of classic\nliterature and German history, for which she engaged the services of\nthe two distinguished professors, Kistermaker and Speiskman, she gave\nunaided all the other lessons.\n\nShe had competent persons to superintend the studies of the young\nprince and his sister while she was engaged in her own, but she\nreserved the teaching exclusively to herself. She very often spent\nentire nights in preparation for the morrow's instruction. After the\nlabors of the day, she always devoted the evenings to conversation.\nIt was then she received the visits of Furstenberg and a number of\nhis literary friends, among whom was the Abb\u00e9 Overberg, with whom\nshe was afterwards to be so intimately related. Her old friend\nHemsterhuys sometimes made one of the party, and he was the only one\nof her guests at that time who was not a Catholic.\n\nThis was the beginning, the nucleus of that brilliant literary\ncircle which, a little later, became so famous throughout Germany.\n\nInvitations to the literary _soir\u00e9es_ of the princess soon began to\nbe coveted as no common honor. The most distinguished Protestant\nauthors and _savants_ sought introduction to that Catholic society,\nand even infidels who did not openly scoff at religion were soon\nfound among its members. It would have been a sight of curious\ninterest, standing aside unseen in that drawing-room on any evening\nof their reunions, to watch that strangely mingled crowd. The\nPrincess Amelia is evidently the ruling spirit, and the marks of\nrespect and homage which her distinguished visitors pay her on their\narrival tell plainly that her presence is not the least among the\nattractions of that pleasant assembly. Scattered through the room\nare men of the most varied minds and opposite views. There were many\nthere who had already acquired literary notoriety of no mean degree.\nThere were many more, the history of whose minds would have been the\nstory of the anxious doubts and bold speculations of unbelief which\nswayed society in the waning of the eighteenth century.\n\nIn the charm of that literary circle, Jacobi found rest from his\nrestless scepticism. There Hamann could quiet his troubled mind.\nThe cold infidelity of Claude thawed in the presence of venerable\necclesiastics and before the influence of their dignity and learning.\nEven Goethe himself confessed that the pleasantest hours of his life\nwere passed in the society of the Princess Galitzin. During three\nyears, these reunions were a literary celebrity.\n\nThough the princess had not allowed her mind to be tainted by the\nimpious philosophy of her time, and had formed, with the assistance\nof Hemsterhuys, a better philosophical system of her own, founded\non the idea of the divinity, yet in all her views she was completely\nrationalistic, rejecting all positive religion. And she had to\nconfess, too, the defectiveness of her system in its practical\nbearing on her life; for at this time she complained feelingly, in\none of her letters, that instead of growing better, according to her\nidea of virtue and happiness, she was daily growing worse.\n\nIn the spring of 1783, she fell dangerously ill. Furstenberg took\nthis first opportunity to persuade her to taste of the consolations\nof religion, and to try the virtue of the sacraments of the church.\nBut, though he actually sent her a confessor, she declined his\nservices, alleging that she had not sufficient faith, promising,\nhowever, at the same time, that, if her life were spared, she would\nturn her thoughts seriously to the subject of religion. It was\nspared, and she kept her promise; but it was a long time before her\nreflections took any definite shape or had any practical result. This\nwas undoubtedly owing to a want of direction, and we cannot divine\nwhy, among so many distinguished clerical friends, one was not found\nto do her this kindly office. Yet so it was, and, most likely, the\nfault was all her own.\n\nThe time had now come when her children were of an age to receive\nreligious instruction; and, this being a part of the self-imposed\ntask of their education, she determined not to shrink from it.\nBut what to teach them, when she herself knew nothing, was a most\nperplexing question. Hitherto her own researches only plunged her\ninto a restless uncertainty of soul which betrayed itself even in her\nsleep. Her conscience would not allow her to impart to her children\nher own unbelief, nor yet permit her to instruct them in a religion\nof whose truth she herself was not convinced. She relieved herself\nfrom this perplexity by deciding not so much to instruct them in any\nreligion as to give them a history of religion in general, abstaining\nfrom any comments that might betray her own incredulity, or be an\nobstacle to the choice she intended they should subsequently make for\nthemselves.\n\nTo fit herself for this task, she commenced the study of the Bible.\nThis was the turning-point in her destiny; she held in her hands,\nat length, what was designed to be for her the instrument of divine\ngrace. Long years ago, when a child, at the Breslau boarding-school,\nit had been remarked that, when nothing else could curb her proud and\nself-willed nature, an appeal to her affections never failed of its\neffect. That tenderness of her young heart was to be her salvation.\n\nShe opened the sacred text to seek there only dry historic facts,\nwhich she was to note down and relate to her children. For aught\nthat concerned herself, the study was undertaken with a careless,\nincredulous disinterestedness. But as she went on and on through\nthe sacred volume, and the sublime character of the Almighty was\nunfolded before her in all the beauty and tendernesses of his\nmercies, and shining in all the brightness of his wisdom, her soul\nwas moved, her heart was deeply touched; she bowed down before the\nomnipotent Creator, and, for the first time, felt herself a creature.\nShe read on still; she came to the Gospel, that record breathing\nlove--compassionate, prodigal love--on every page, and before its\ncharm her heart melted, her pride of intellect faded away, her life\ncame before her as a useless dream, and her tears flowed fast upon\nthe sacred page; for now she not only felt what it was to be a\ncreature, but had realized what it was to be _saved_.\n\nHer work now became a labor of love. She not only taught her\nchildren, but she instructed herself. With her usual intrepidity\nof intellect, she was soon acquainted with every mystery of our\nholy religion, and with every duty of the Catholic life. From the\nknowledge to the fulfilment of her duty was always with Amelia an\neasy step; consequently, she began immediately to prepare herself for\na general confession. After a long and serious examination of her\nwhole life, she at length made it, on the feast of St. Augustine,\n1786, and, a few days later, approached the holy communion, for the\nfirst time, with feelings of deep and tender devotion.\n\nFrom this moment, a complete change was wrought in her whole manner.\nHer habitual melancholy gave way to a cheering serenity, which was\nas consoling as it was agreeable and charming to all around her. Her\nchildren and her many friends were greatly struck with the visible\neffects which divine grace had so evidently produced in her soul.\n\nShe now wished, for her more rapid advancement in perfection, to\nplace her conscience entirely under the direction of the saintly Abb\u00e9\nOverberg. She was not content to have him merely as her confessor,\nbut she wished to enter on the same relations--to have the same\nintimate friendship with him--as existed between St. Vincent de Paul\nand Mme. de Gondi, St. Francis de Sales and St. Jane de Chantal,\nSt. John of the Cross and St. Teresa. Though she had written to him\nseveral times on the subject of her direction, yet she never dared\nfully to propose her project to him, lest he might reject her request\naltogether. However, she took courage at last, and, to her great\njoy, she was not disappointed.\n\nThis holy priest took up his residence in her palace in 1789, and\nremained there, in the capacity of chaplain, even after her death.\n\nIn the following year, Hemsterhuys, her old friend and preceptor,\ndied; and in this year, also, the young Prince Dmitri, having\nfinished an education which would have fitted him for any position\nor profession in life, took leave of his mother, to commence, in\naccordance with the fashion, his post-educational travels. For what\nparticular reason he turned his steps toward the New World does not\nappear. It was during the voyage that he resolved to embrace and\nprofess the Catholic faith. But Providence had designed for him more\nthan a visit to the United States; his life and his labors in our\ncountry have made the name of Galitzin a familiar and much-loved word\nto American Catholics.\n\nIn 1803, the husband of the princess died suddenly at Brunswick.\nThis loss she felt most keenly. He had ever been to her a good and\nindulgent husband, yielding, with even an abundance of good nature,\nto all her plans, and never interfering with the various projects of\nher life. We may suppose, too, that her grief was deepened as his\nunexpected death suddenly blighted all her hopes for his conversion.\n\nBut sore trials of another kind yet awaited her. The property of the\nprince, which, by the marriage contract, should have reverted to\nher in trust for her children, was seized by his relatives. Penury\nthreatened her for a time, but her appeal was, at length, heard by\nthe Emperor Alexander, and the property was restored.\n\nMeanwhile, she began to suffer from a painful malady which produced\nhypochondria. The patient, plaintless manner in which she bore her\npains; above all, the calm of mind which she preserved in that\nterrible physical malady which poisons every pleasure and clouds\nevery brightness of life, shows what a high state of perfection she\nhad already attained. Religion was now her solace and her succor.\nBy the perfection of her resignation to the divine will, she not\nonly succeeded in concealing from her friends her painful state, by\njoining cheerfully in every conversation and pastime; but she cheered\nthe melancholy and depression of others without once evincing that\nshe herself was a victim to its living martyrdom.\n\nWith equal fortitude, she was bearing at the same time yet a harder\ntrial. It is always wounding enough to our feelings to have our\nactions misappreciated, our whole conduct misunderstood, by persons\nmerely indifferent to us. But what is there harder to endure in life\nthan to be misunderstood by those to whom we were once tenderly\ndevoted, to whom we were bound in the closest friendship of intimacy,\nand to bear their consequent coldness and slights, and sometimes\ncruel wrongs? Yet this pang was added to the other trials of Princess\nAmelia. But her great charity checked every human feeling. She\nwas never heard to complain of any neglect, or even the annoying\ntreatment of false friends, and she never sought to soothe the\nsorrow of her tender heart by any human consolations. In a letter\nregarding the Abb\u00e9 de Furstenberg, she described beautifully the\nrule of charity she followed in this sorest of her trials. Whenever\nthe memory of her slighted friendship would send a pang through her\nsoul, her love of God was her first resource; then she resolved never\nto intensify the sorrow of the moment by indulging in any dreams\nof the imagination with regard to an irremediable past, or in any\nspeculations whatever on the subject which would strengthen her\nsorrow or tend to an uncharitable feeling.\n\nThus, in these purifying trials, were passed the last years of her\nlife; and when, at length, the gold of her merits was made pure\nenough in the crucible to be moulded into her crown of glory, she\nrested from her sorrows.\n\nIn 1806, she died the death of the holy, and, at her own request, she\nwas buried beneath the chapel of her country-house at Angelmodde,\nnear M\u00fcnster.\n\nWere we right in saying that her life displays the struggle of a\ngreat soul for its own level above disadvantageous circumstances?\nShe struggled above the sad defects of early training, then above\nthe commonplace routine of ordinary lives in the world, and finally\nabove the clouds of infidelity and ignorance of divine things, to the\nbright, clear atmosphere of the faith, where the love of her ardent\nheart was sated, and her yearning aspirations found their lasting\nrest.\n\nIt may be, too, that we now have an easier clue to the wonderful\ncharacter of the Apostle of Western Pennsylvania since we have become\nbetter acquainted with the _mother of Prince Galitzin_.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[96] _Particularit\u00e9s de la Vie de la Princesse Amelie Galitzin._ Par\nTheod. Katerkamp M\u00fcnster. 1828.\n\n_La Princesse Galitzin et les Amis._ Sch\u00fccking: Cologne. 1840.\n\n\n\n\nEGBERT STANWAY.\n\n\nIf Germany was the cradle of the Reformation, England can claim\nto have been its nurse, and to have fostered in it many phases\neven at present unknown to the land of its originators. In its\nlast-born and perhaps most dangerous outgrowth, Ritualism, we see\nthe English spirit that was already timidly visible long before, now\nfully flowering in delusive self-existence, uniting in this novel\ncombination the cherished independence of Rome, that Englishmen are\ntaught instinctively to regard as the only palladium of national\nfreedom, and those \u00e6sthetic aspirations which come down to them, we\nventure to think, as instinctively, from their forefathers of \"Merrie\nEngland\" and the \"Island of Saints.\"\n\nBut if there are in the English character great capabilities for\nevolving unthought-of theories out of stern dogmatic codes, there is\nalso a strange power of assimilation by which it can engraft upon\nitself the alien modes of thought of other lands, and yet infuse into\nthem something that is not their own--something that renders them\nunspeakably more attractive and, withal, more hopelessly earnest.\n\nSuch a power was most likely to have been encouraged and developed\nin Egbert Stanway by his almost foreign education and most sensitive\nand contemplative nature. The love of German philosophy and German\nliterature had descended to him from his father, who had been a\ndisciple and a friend of Goethe, and who had early sent him to the\nuniversity at Heidelberg, where the boy still was at his father's\ndeath. The weird old city, with its castle overlooking the rushing\nNeckar, and its antique houses enshrined by woods of chestnut, was\nthe earliest home he could remember, and as, during his holidays from\nthe school where he had been preparing for university initiation, he\nhad never left Germany, it was almost as a foreigner and a stranger\nthat he visited Stanway Hall to attend his father's funeral.\n\nThe evening he arrived, the gloom of the old house, and the\nlong shadows creeping round it, the hooting owl in the dark fir\nplantations, and the grim and spreading cedars nearly touching the\nhall-door, everything he saw, in fact, seemed to make a most painful\nimpression on his sensitive mind. The old servants crowded round\nhim in affectionate and mournful welcome, for they remembered the\nlittle fair-haired child that used to prattle so merrily through\nthe house many years ago, and they thought they saw in his face the\nsame expression that had melted their hearts within them as they\nhad gazed on the child's dead mother the night he was born. One of\nhis guardians, a cousin of his father's, a kind, grave man, with\ngrizzling hair and soldier-like bearing, came and took his hand in\nsilence, and led him to the low, wide dining-room where the coffin\nlay under its heavy velvet pall. There, in the gloom that the few\ntall candles near the bier could hardly brighten, he told the son how\nhis father had fallen from his horse while returning at night from a\ndistant farm where he had been to see the sick tenant, and relieve\nhim from the rent that was due and which his family could not meet.\nEgbert's face glowed as he lifted it from the coffin against which he\nhad been resting his forehead, and as he said in faltering accents:\n\n\"So like him! I am glad he died like that.\"\n\nThe words were simple, but the old soldier could not refrain from the\ntears that his own narrative had not yet forced from him. The child's\ncomment unlocked his heart, and after a few moments' silence he said:\n\n\"My boy, you will try to live like him, and try to do your duty\nlike him. You know you will soon have power in your hands: use it\nas he did. In a few years you will be your own master; even now\nyou are master of this house and this estate. Never forget the\nresponsibilities you will have. Always be kind to your servants, and\njust to your tenants, and charitable to the poor. Be loved as your\nfather was, so that, when you die, you may be regretted as he is.\"\n\nEgbert pressed his guardian's hand in silence, and presently knelt\ndown by the coffin. There was a wreath of cypress on it, and he\nbroke off a little twig and hid it in his bosom. His lips seemed to\nmove--was he praying, or thinking half aloud? The old man's hand was\non his shoulder, and he felt its pressure weighing him down. When\nhe stood up again, he said nothing, only motioned his guardian to\nthe door, and followed him. There were a few relations, mostly men,\ngathered before the fire in the drawing-room, and as the boy came in\nthere was a general welcome of silent sympathy, and then a pause.\nSome few spoke in whispers, but the gloom was too deep to be broken.\nThere seemed in the dead man's son more dignity and manliness than\nis usual, even under such circumstances, in one so young, and there\nwas deference and surprise as well as pity in the looks that were\nbent on the boy of sixteen, to whom nearly all were strangers, and to\nwhom his own home and his own household were themselves but new and\nstrange associations.\n\nAs night came on, every one disappeared noiselessly from the room,\nEgbert himself having left it at an earlier hour. He had gone out\ninto the summer moonlight to roam through the grounds he scarcely\nremembered, and to be alone with his own thoughts that would not\nlet him sleep. The tall formal evergreens that skirted the broad\nterrace threw their shadows across the many flights of ornamental\nsteps leading to the flower-garden; the scent of the heliotrope and\nmignonnette in the borders was wafted on the cool breeze that came\nfrom the sedge-encircled pond where the water-fowl played and hid in\nthe rushes; the smooth-stemmed beeches stood like columns of silver\nin the moonlight, supporting their vaulted arches of interlacing\nleaves; the rooks cawed solemnly from their restless homes as the\nsoft wind blew the branches backward and forward across the mossy\nmound; squirrels made cracking noises as they chattered in careless\ngaiety on the slender twigs of the spruce-fir; and hares and rabbits\nscudded away with terror-impelled swiftness as they heard human\nfootfalls on the dewy grass.\n\nThe tall church-spire seemed to speak when the bell tolled out the\nhours through the night, and Egbert gazed longingly toward it, not\nas one who answers a well-known voice, but rather as one who strives\npainfully to guess the meaning of words he would gladly understand\nand yet cannot fathom.\n\n\"Oh!\" he thought, \"my father knows now all _I_ wish to know; but\nhe cannot come and tell me, and I shall have to live on, perhaps\nas long as he did, and never know what I seek, and never find the\nsatisfaction and peace I look for. If _I_ too could die, and know all\nat once!\"\n\nHe thought, too, of the ceremony that would take place in that church\nto-morrow, and of the cold, damp vault his father's body would be\nlaid in. And so great was the horror of this to his mind that the\nbeauty of the night turned to hideousness for him, and its wooing\nsounds were changed into ghoul-like beckoning. Tears would not come\nto relieve his heart, and he felt as if an icy grasp were upon him,\ncrushing out his young life, his father, he could only think of as\nhe was, mute and helpless, not as he once had been, a true guide and\nmonitor; his home, where was it? his duty, to what dreary fields\nof thankless labor might it not carry him? his friends, who were\nthey? friends of yesterday? friends of the family, perhaps, but that\nwas conventional friendship to him--or friends to him as the young\nlandlord, but that was interested friendship!\n\nAnd then came back a rush of Heidelberg memories, of the reckless\nyoung companions of his scarce-begun career, of the kind old\nprofessor, Herr Lebnach, and of his child-daughter Christina, of\nrambles among the chestnut woods, when the band had done playing\nin the castle gardens, and of two or three darker and more solemn\nrambles when he had gone to follow a dead comrade to his self-made\ngrave.\n\nThe chill morning dew roused him at last, just when a faint-breaking\nlight was to be seen over the fir-planted hill behind the house, and\nhe went in and threw himself, all dressed, on his bed in the dim\nhaunted-looking room he remembered as his nursery in days so long\npast that he could remember nothing else of them. The sun rose and\ngilded the many-hued flower-garden, and lighted red fires in the\ndiamond-paned windows on the east side of the house, and sent long\narrows of light into the tapestried and wainscoted chambers where\nthe guests slept; it took the church-steeple by storm, and poured in\nfloods of molten gold through the stained-glass windows of chancel\nand clerestory; it flashed through the dark beech grove, and blinded\nthe uneasy rooks whom it roused to a new and jangling chorus; it\nthrew rosy sparks across the pond, on the margin of which floated the\nwater-lily and nestled the forget-me-not; and, lastly, it penetrated\nthe sombre curtains of the darkened dining-room, and, braving death\non his throne, threw a coronal of light on the very cypress wreath\non the bier. And had it not a royal right, nay, a God-given mission,\nso to do? For the morning of the resurrection is ever near, and each\nmorning's sun is its fit representative and the forerunner of its joy.\n\nThe same consoling ray that would not leave the dead alone in death's\nown shadow shone on the boy's fair curls as he bent, half in sorrow,\nhalf in slumber, over the hidden coffin. Soon, very soon, that coffin\nwould not be there in the dear sunshine. It would be away in the\ndarksome earth, in a lonely vault, with no one save the bats to make\nany moan over it, and, if ever the sun's darts made their way to\nit through low, grated air-holes or widening cracks in the stone,\nthey would be pale and spectral themselves, like torches in a deadly\natmosphere, like phantom lights over the quaking bog.\n\nThe hours wore on, and the time came for the funeral. Again there\nwas a gathering together of friends and relatives, and a marshalling\nof tenants and servants, a whispering among the awed assemblage, and\nthe boy asked once to have the pall lifted and the lid removed.\nIn silence it was done, and in silence Egbert Stanway came near,\nand laid his right hand on his father's cold, calm forehead. His\nlips seemed to move, and a deeper expression of mingled sorrow and\nresolution settled upon his features; and thus, without a tear, he\ntook leave of the best friend and best lover he had ever had on\nearth. He seemed much quieter after this, and the funeral procession\nnow started on its way to the church, Egbert walking next the coffin\nas chief mourner.\n\nThe next day, he was far on his road to Heidelberg.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nFour years passed by. Egbert Stanway was high in honors at the\nuniversity, renowned among the reading set as an indefatigable\nscholar, beloved by his favorite professor, Herr Lebnach, and his no\nlonger child-daughter, courted by all the best men, and respected by\nall the worst, in the old city of Heidelberg. Having resolutely set\nhis face against duelling and all kinds of brawls, and even against\nall innocent-seeming meetings that, nevertheless, were likely to end\nin brawls, he had yet not acquired the unenviable notoriety of a\nmisanthrope, and, though many called him proud, still none called him\nchurlish. Herr Lebnach used often to gather a few real friends about\nhim, and there was generally some musical banquet provided for his\ndelicate and discriminating guests.\n\nHis room was one of those that are dreamt of, but seldom seen, homely\nand artistic at once, quaint and suggestive as one of the mysterious\ndens of those sages whom modern times have called sorcerers and\ntamperers with arts forbidden. There stood on one side a great oak\nbook-case, massive and plain, filled with huge folios, and smaller\nbooks laid carelessly across their dust-covered edges, old tomes that\nlooked black enough for magic, though they might contain nothing\nmore than medical lore and visionaries' dreams; over the carved\nmantelpiece, where a dark stove hid itself in the wide space it could\nnot fill, was an array of pipes, meerschaum silver-mounted, and rare\nwood cunningly wrought; pipes of tarnished Eastern splendor, and\ncalumets of Indian workmanship; a real old spinning-wheel, where\nGretchen might have sat as she sang of her demon-lover Faustus,\nstood in one corner, and a collection of antique armor hung on all\nthe spaces on the wall that were not occupied by medical portraits\nand angel-crowded tryptichs in twisted golden frames. Here, in one\noak-carved case, was Venetian ruby glass and old Dresden ware, and\nthere, on the quaint low tables, lay illuminated missals of the\nthirteenth century, alongside of dainty woman's embroidery-frames,\nand the last new pamphlet on the last new philosophical\nincomprehensibility. Then, as the dim light of the lamp flashed when\nsome motion was made near the long table by the stove, there appeared\non the other side of the room a great organ, with golden pipes and\ncarved case--a world within a world, the kingdom of music enshrined\nwithin the surrounding kingdom of science and of literature. The\ntreble manual, with its tiers of smooth white notes sheathing the\nmelodies a moment's touch might set free, shone under the golden\narbor of the spreading pipes, and beneath the dark carved garlands of\noak-leaves and hanging fruit and sporting beasts, that seemed only as\npetrified embodiments of the thoughts that had once been living and\nbreathing in those keys.\n\nA girl sat by the organ, her hair seeming to have caught the golden\nreflection of the music-laden pipes, and her slender fingers the\nlitheness of those easily-moulded keys. Beside her was a large\nbasket, where balls of wool mingled with half-finished garments\nof domestic mystery, while in her own hands she held a piece of\nknitting. A kitten played at her feet, and now and then tangled the\nlong thread that fell from her work. Egbert Stanway sat quite close,\none hand resting on the organ-notes, reading aloud by the dark light\nof one little candle in the fixed organ candlestick.\n\nA few men began to drop in, but the reading was not interrupted, for\nthe room was large, and the professor was sitting not far from the\ndoor. Some came in with rolls of white music; some with instruments\ntenderly imprisoned in warmly-lined cases; some, again, with\ntheir hands unoccupied, but their large pockets bursting with the\ntreasures of meerschaum and tobacco; some thoughtful, student-like,\nlong-haired; some gay and rubicund, as if dinner were but a late\nand cherished memory; some young and uneasily conscious of the\nstranger by the organ. Presently one came in who was neither student\nnor professor, but long-haired and quaint-looking nevertheless,\nwith iron-gray locks, straight and wiry, strongly-marked features,\ntall, spare figure, and almost kingly demeanor, so mixed was it of\nhaughtiness and courtesy.\n\nChristina rose and signed to her companion to close the book. She\nwent forward, and said a few words of blushing welcome to the royal\nstranger, and then turned to Egbert, saying:\n\n\"_Mein herr_, this is my father's young friend who was so anxious to\nknow you.\"\n\nHe put out his hand with kind eagerness, and, as he did so, Egbert\nnoticed the long, slender, nervous fingers, like iron sheathed in\nage-tinted ivory.\n\n\"I am very glad to see you, Herr Stanway,\" he said, \"and very glad to\nsee you here, for I have no better friend than Christina's father.\"\n\nThe girl fell back as he spoke, and passed through the room,\nspeaking, now and then, to the bearded guests, who all smiled at her\nlike the Flemish saints in the old pictures of the Maiden-mother and\nher mystic court; and made her way to an inner apartment where a\ngrand piano occupied most of the space, and round the walls of which\nwere many brackets with bronze and marble busts of sages and poets,\nphilosophers and musicians, gleaming out, ghost like, against the\nheavy crimson draperies that fell round window and doorway.\n\nThe stranger was still talking to Egbert in German when the sounds of\ntuning instruments in the next room drew his attention. He took the\nyoung man's arm, and hurried in, casting a glance over the sheets of\nmusic scattered on the piano. A flush of pleasure and surprise came\nover his countenance; they were headed, \"Overture--St. Elizabeth.\"\nEgbert looked across to Christina, but she was busying herself with\na refractory violoncello-case, whose huge fastenings would not open,\nand whether or no she saw the maestro's puzzled air remained a\nmystery both to the young man and to his companion, whose glance had\nfollowed his own, as if half-guessing what it meant.\n\nHerr Lebnach struck his friend on the shoulder as he approached the\nwondering musician.\n\n\"You must forgive my boldness,\" he said; \"in fact, I can only call it\nsmuggling. I got a copy from a pupil of yours--one whose enthusiasm\nwas stronger than his sense of obedience; but, of course, this is\nall among friends-it shall go no further. Indeed, if you wish it, I\nwill burn the manuscript after the performance.\"\n\n\"No, no, dear friend,\" returned the composer; \"it will be publicly\nperformed and given to the world in a month or two, and I am glad you\nshould have the first-fruits.\"\n\nThe amateur orchestra was in a state of nervous delight at these\nwords, and as the maestro took the baton in his hand there was a hush\nthat said far more than words could have embodied. Christina and\nher father and Egbert sat aloof near the doorway, and a few others\ngathered in silent groups round the room. The music came forth, at\nlast, like the rush of an elfin cavalcade out of darksome caverns and\ncloven rocks of unimagined depth, wild and weird, like the cry of the\nstorm-tossed sea-gulls among the reverberating crags of foam-washed\ngranite. It was the music of delirium, the music of madness, the\nmusic of despair. It was the voice of a soul that had lost its way in\na labyrinth of dreams so fantastic that they had thrown a spell over\nits returning footsteps, and so made it for ever an enchanted exile\namong their mazy paths. It was unintelligible, yet full of meaning;\nunapproachable, yet full of allurement; impregnable, yet full of\nsympathy. Later on, in great cities, and before critical audiences,\nit was held to be the music of a maniac, while it lacked the charm or\nthe interest of Shakespeare's maniac-heroes and their too-faithful\nrhapsodies; and even now, though the performance was a labor of love,\nit was not without difficulty that many phrases were interpreted.\n\nChristina seemed to think more of the composer than of his work, and\nmore of his pleasure in seeing his music appreciated than of his\nactual skill in composition. Indeed, her father and Egbert shared\nher feelings, as was apparent from their careful watching of the\nconductor's face rather than of the performers' bows. But when the\nlong piece was over, and every one started forward to congratulate\nand be congratulated, there was a general appearance of satisfaction\nat having mastered something that was no little difficulty, and\noffered such a grateful and acceptable homage to one whose heart\nseemed to value it so highly. Soon there was a hush again, and\nChristina glided to the piano, where the maestro was now sitting.\n\n\"You will not refuse to reward us now, will you?\" she said.\n\nA smile and a soft chord were the speedy answer; and now the piano\nspoke and wailed, pleaded and wept, as the strong, supple fingers\nswept its astonished keys. It seemed as if there were within it an\nimprisoned and hitherto dumb spirit, whose voice was now unshrouded\nand allowed full power over the hearts of those who had scarcely\nbefore suspected its hidden existence. Far different from the\ntempestuous overture was this soft and swift blending of chords in\ngarlands of sweet sound. Flowers were dropping around the feet of\nthe artist; clouds of faintly-suggested and dream-like fancies were\nfanning the air around his head; a spell, as of Eastern languor,\nwas slowly deadening the senses of the listeners to any other\nsound save that of the marvellous melody the piano was sighing\nforth, when, with a wild toss of the head and a sudden bending\nforward of the body, the maestro changed the key, and burst into a\nhalf-triumphant, half-defiant p\u00e6an--a chant of patriotic and maddened\nenthusiasm--which soon merged into the last movement of his impromptu\nand the last appeal of every Christian to the God that made him; a\nsolemn, dirge-like hymn, full of unspoken sadness, full of expressed\nconfidence, a lifting up of the soul above everything of earth, a\nconsecration, a supplication, a thanksgiving, and a sacrifice.\n\nNever before had Egbert heard anything like that prayer; never after\nwas he destined to hear it again.\n\nChristina drew a long sigh, as if such beauty were too heavenly to be\ngazed upon without pain, and turning to the young man:\n\n\"I am glad,\" she said, \"I cannot play the piano. One could not dare\nto touch the instrument after that, unless it were to destroy it!\"\n\n\"You are right,\" he answered slowly and musingly; \"but where can he\nhave learnt the things he puts into his music?\"\n\n\"In his prayers, Herr Stanway.\"\n\nA dark shade of melancholy passed over Egbert's face; there was pain\nat the implied rebuke, and a vague sorrow, as for something lost, in\nthat fugitive expression, but the music chased it away as the violins\nwere tuning up again for Beethoven's \"Septet.\"\n\nSo the evening wore away, and chorus and concerted piece followed\nfast upon one another, till the musicians were so excited they could\nhardly speak. The maestro conducted all through, and as he shook\nhis hair like a mane about his eyes and swayed to and fro in the\nintensity of his enthusiasm, Egbert whispered to Christina:\n\n\"He is the magician of music, is he not?\"\n\nWhen all was over, and some of the guests had left in singing groups\nthat would probably serenade the town for the rest of the night, the\ngreat artist called the young Englishman, and asked him to show him\nthe way home.\n\n\"I am somewhat of a stranger here, my friend, and there is no one\nwhose company I would more gladly ask under the pretence of wanting a\nguide home.\"\n\nAs soon as they were out of the house, he turned suddenly on his\ncompanion, and, lingering so as to stay for a few moments in the full\nmoonlight, he said:\n\n\"And so you are the betrothed of my old friend's daughter?\"\n\nA start and a blush that he could not repress were Egbert's first\nanswers to this abrupt but not unkind question, yet the old man saw\nthat his arrow had perhaps overshot the mark.\n\n\"Is it not so?\" he said again, but doubtfully now.\n\n\"No, _mein herr_,\" replied Egbert, with slow and sorrowful composure;\n\"and I fear it never will be.\"\n\n\"You fear, dear friend? Therefore you hope?\"\n\n\"I _have_ hoped, but I see now how useless it must ever be for me to\nthink of her except as a friend.\"\n\n\"Can I do anything for you that _her_ own favor could not do?\"\n\n\"I have never asked her for anything, and I never shall, and it\nsuffices that she knows as well as I do what the reason of my silence\nis.\"\n\n\"Then she does know that you love her?\"\n\n\"She knows it as the angels do--if there be angels!\"\n\n\"If! What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Only this, that, if there are angels, they are not more remote from\nme than she is.\"\n\n\"You speak in riddles. I have no wish to force your confidence, my\nfriend; but I have known that child from her cradle, and I cannot\nhelp being interested in anything concerning her.\"\n\n\"O _mein herr_! I have nothing to conceal; you misunderstand me. She\nis a Catholic; that is why she is so far from me.\"\n\n\"And you are a Protestant? But so is her father.\"\n\n\"No, I am not a Protestant, though I am English.\"\n\n\"Ah! perhaps you have no settled outward form of religion?\"\n\n\"That is it. But, if I _were_ Protestant, she would not marry me.\"\n\n\"In a few years, dear young friend, you may think differently. I was\nvery like you once, only far worse; yet, you see, I too am a Catholic\nnow.\"\n\nThe young man shook his head in silence. They had journeyed through\nthe dark winding streets very near to the maestro's temporary home,\nand the old artist turned now solemnly and affectionately to his\ncompanion, putting his hand on his shoulder:\n\n\"Herr Stanway,\" he said, \"I may never see you again, and you must\nforgive an old man for speaking so plainly to you; but I cannot bear\nto leave Heidelberg, where your friends and mine have made me so\nhappy, without trying to do something towards _your_ happiness, and,\nI am sure, towards _hers_. Do not, for Heaven's sake, give way to\nthose foolish and yet wrecking tendencies of the young men of your\nday. Stand by religion, for I tell you by experience she is the best\nphilosopher, as well as the best comforter; she is the only friend\nfor the student, as well as for the priest; and, above all, she is\nthe only guardian for the home, and the only giver of true peace.\nRemember that as an old man's advice, and, if you trust to the word\nof one who has run the round of all pleasures without finding true\nones till very late, you will save yourself the long struggle of\nexperience that wears the body and sears the mind, and leaves you in\nyour old age but a shattered wreck to carry back to the feet of him\nwho sent you forth a perfect man. Will you remember this, dear young\nfriend?\"\n\n\"I will try to do so,\" Egbert answered slowly, with intense but\nhopeless yearning to be able to do so. He kissed the hand of the old\nman whose words seemed to him but a mortal record of that other one\nwritten in notes of fire on the awakened instrument at Christina's\nhome, and the artist took him in his arms and embraced him as a son.\nThey parted, the one to go to his peaceful rest, the other to turn\nfor consolation and for calm to the wild woods above the castle,\nwhence through vistas could be seen the silver-flashing river, with\nhere and there its dark semblances of reversed houses, and spires,\nand turrets. \"My father! my father!\" thought the young man, \"why can\nyou not tell me what you know--why can you not assure me of all I\nlong to believe, yet cannot? _She_ has often said that the dead are\nall of her faith when they reach God's throne, and that they believe\nin it even more firmly, if possible, than those of her creed do on\nearth--because to them evidence has been given. Perhaps to some the\nevidence is eternal fire--if that exist! But surely, he who made this\nearth so fair, he who gave us this solemn night-beauty to enjoy, and\na mind fitted to admire it, he cannot have meant to bind us to cruel,\nunyielding formulas. If one heart feels its love go out to him in\none way, and another in a different way, why should not both be as\nwelcome to him as is the varied beauty of the many different-tinted\nand different-scented flowers? Who has been to God's feet and learned\nhis secrets, and come back to tell us with certainty that he loathes\none heart's worship, and accepts another's? Not till I have such an\nassurance will I, or can I, if I would, go to Christina, and say, 'I\nam a Catholic.'\"\n\nAnd so the specious and seemingly religious poison worked on and\ncankered his heart, notwithstanding the solemn warning of his\nnew-found friend, whose voice, he should have known it, was near akin\nto that of the spirit-witness he was but now invoking.\n\nThe night was very lovely, and reminded him of that one preceding his\nfather's funeral, when already wandering dreams of a self-revealed\nfaith were turning him away from the belief in a just and personal\nGod. The Church of England Catechism, which he had learnt by heart as\na child, the teachings of a zealous Episcopalian clergyman who had\nprepared him for confirmation in Germany itself, rushed back upon his\nmemory as he looked on the symbolic beauty of the dying night; but in\nthe dawn that already stirred the birdlings in their nests and shot\npale darts of virgin light across the purple-blue heaven, he could\nsee no emblem of truer life coming to his soul nor any sign of silent\njoy offering itself to his weary heart. And yet the dawn was shining\ninto a little flower-scented chamber, and striking a sweeter perfume\nfrom the silent prayer of its occupant than it could draw even from\nthe fragrant blossoms of the golden lime and the starry pendent\nclusters of flowering chestnut gathered in the large earthen vases\nnear the window.\n\nThat prayer was for Egbert, but he could not feel it yet.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNight again, summer again, but a year has passed, and the German\nstudent is now an English landlord. To-morrow he will assume the\nduties of his new position; to-day he received the first-fruits of\nits honors.\n\nThe customary rejoicings attendant on a \"coming of age\" in Old\nEngland had been duly gone through; there had been banqueting in\nthe hall, and feasting in the dining-room; healths had been drunk\nand speeches had been made, and every one was supposed to be in a\nsuperlative state of happiness. Probably every one was--that is,\naccording to their kind, and to their capability of enjoyment. Egbert\nalone seemed thoughtful and preoccupied; his assembled relations\nthought him reserved and cold; some said a foreign education could\nbe no good to an Englishman, and he would never be popular in the\ncountry; others thought he would marry abroad, some said he would\nturn Roman Catholic, and the sporting squires wondered whether he\nwould ride and would subscribe to the hunt.\n\nContrary to the expectation of the marriageable young ladies of the\nneighborhood, there was no ball included in the programme of the\nbirthday _f\u00eates_, and the guests who were not staying at the house\nall left towards dark, lighted on their way by the last explosions of\nthe fantastic fireworks that had been introduced as a _finale_ to the\nrejoicings. After dinner, Egbert and his guardian, the one we alluded\nto in the beginning of this tale, sauntered out on the terrace,\ntalking in a desultory way about the little incidents of the day.\n\n\"You gave us so little time, my dear boy,\" he said presently, \"to\nmake your acquaintance over again, considering the time you have been\nabroad, that I feel almost as a stranger to you.\"\n\n\"I should not like ever to be a stranger to _you_,\" replied Egbert;\n\"but I own I felt a shrinking from coming here at all, much more upon\nsuch an occasion, and to meet such people.\"\n\n\"You have grown fastidious, I am afraid.\"\n\n\"I have led a very quiet life for the last few years, and I feel much\nolder than I am, and quite different from all the young people, both\nmen and girls, I have met to-day; and, to tell you the truth, I felt\nshy, so I delayed coming to the last moment. But if _you_ will stay\nwhen the house is quiet again, I am sure we shall understand each\nother.\"\n\n\"With all my heart, my dear fellow; your father was my earliest\nfriend, and I should like his son to be as my own.\"\n\n\"I am glad you are alone in the world, Charles, if you will allow me\nthat cousinly freedom; for I own I should have been scared at a bevy\nof ladies, and probably committed some dreadful solecism, and have\ngot myself ostracized for ever.\"\n\n\"Well, well; it will all come in time, no doubt; and now tell me all\nabout your life at Heidelberg.\"\n\nCould Charles Beran have looked back at that life, and known what was\ncalled back to existence by his careless question, perhaps he might\nhave asked it less carelessly, and been less astonished at the effect\nit produced. His cousin grew pale.\n\n\"My dear boy,\" he added hurriedly, \"if there is any painful\nrecollection I have stirred up without knowing it, pray forgive me.\"\n\n\"No,\" answered Egbert slowly, \"I have no _painful_ recollection\nin all my life, not even my father's death (Beran looked at him\nanxiously); for nothing has happened to me without making me sadder\nand wiser, that is, teaching me more and more that I know nothing.\"\n\nHis companion did not answer. Egbert was getting beyond him, but he\npressed his hand to show him that, whatever he might mean, he had\none to sympathize with, even if he could not share, his sorrow.\nEgbert understood the wistful, loving sign of the old man whose happy\ndisposition most fortunately kept him ignorant of the paths of gloom\nthrough which he himself was passing, and went on to tell him, in\ngeneral terms, of his outward life and habits at Heidelberg. He made\nno concealment of his intimacy with the family of his old professor,\nbut simply and truthfully said that, on account of her religion,\nChristina, he felt sure, could never be his wife.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" interrupted the old man, \"it is better so, and Providence\nmeant you to marry an English wife, and think more of your property\nand your own country.\"\n\nEgbert smiled at this innocent pressing of Providence into the\nupholding of a mere actional prejudice; and said, unconsciously using\nthe endearing phraseology of his adopted language:\n\n\"I knew you would think so, dear friend; but do you fancy that,\ncoming from the feet of an angel, one would be likely to rush into\nthe arms of a child of earth?\"\n\n\"My dear fellow, you have grown _too_ German by far! Excuse me, but\nthis will never do for England, you know.\"\n\n\"I am afraid England will not do for me,\" Egbert replied, laughing;\n\"that is, if England is to mean Englishmen and Englishwomen.\n\n\"Oh! you will think differently when you have mixed with them a\nlittle; we really must try and cure you.\"\n\n\"Well, you can try, if you like. Perhaps we had better go in and\nbegin with the assembled company around that piano,\" said the young\nman, as he shrugged his shoulders and pointed to a white-robed girl\nattitudinizing before a splendid instrument, which, I think, could it\nhave spoken, would have begged to be delivered from the attacks of\nunmusical school-girls on the matrimonial lookout.\n\nBut every one was tired now, even school-girls and croquet-playing\nyoung gentlemen--and heir-huntresses, and heiress-hunters, and\ndiggers after coronets, and the various other pliers of unhallowed\ntrades--so Egbert was soon left to himself again, which with him\nalways meant a long night-ramble in the whispering woods.\n\nThe English beauty of his own unknown possessions was new to him; it\nwas also sad, for it was associated with the memory of his father's\nfuneral; but, because of its very sadness, it was the less new, the\nmore familiar. Across the flower-garden, across the terraced lawn\ndotted with rare trees from Rocky Mountain gorges and California\nvalleys, across the network of gravel paths, he walked thoughtfully\nover to where an old ruin stood, with its mantle of ivy, shrouding\ncrumbled wall and broken buttress, climbing over scutcheon and carven\ndoorway, and flinging its tendrils like falling lace across the tall\nmullioned windows. This gray ruin had been a house once, but now it\nwas disused and had fallen into decay. Opposite, only parted from\nit by a shrubbery, was the church where Egbert's father was buried,\nand to the left stretched a wide and long quadrangle with walls\nof coral-berried yew, and hedges of trailing rose and honeysuckle\nwithin, enclosing a tract of wild, rank grass, and little, nestling,\ncreeping flowers hidden among the tall tufts. In the centre stood a\nsun-dial, lichened over in brown and yellow patches, catching the\nmoonbeams now, as if it were a solitary tombstone in a desecrated\ngraveyard. The long shadows from church and ruin stretched themselves\nacross the lonely enclosure; the sweetbrier gave forth soft perfume\nthat carried on its breath some remembrance of the Heidelberg limes\nand chestnuts; falling twigs made a ghost-like rustling in the tall\ntrees beyond, and the voice of the night seemed to say to the young\nman's heart, \"Peace is nigh.\"\n\nEgbert wandered on till he came to the sun-dial; he leaned upon it\nand looked around. His thoughts were deep and sad, but something\nwithin him seemed changed--he himself knew not what. \"Is it my\nfather's spirit calling me, or Christina's heart sending me some\nheavenly message? Is it that I am going to die, or to live and\nknow God?\" Such were the flitting thoughts that sped like restless\nwanderers through his mind, and all night through, as he walked\nbackward and forward in the yew quadrangle, and then by the edge of\nthe beech-shadowed pond, these same thoughts pursued him, and shaped\nthemselves to his fancy into the whispering of the ever-quivering\nleaves and the trembling of the unrestful grass.\n\nIt was dawn again before he left the grounds, and he had scarcely\nbeen asleep a few hours when a hasty message came to him that a poor\nwoman from the village was asking for him in great distress, and was\nsure he would not refuse to see her. It seemed that she came to say\nher little girl was taken suddenly ill, and the doctor thought she\nwould not live. Egbert had specially noticed this little one, and\nplayed with her during the preceding day, when the school-children\nwere enjoying their share of the day's delight; and, without the\nslightest hesitation, he followed the poor mother to her cottage,\nwhere he found a whole nest of children; some old enough to look\nsorry and frightened, some hardly able to do aught else than crow and\nlaugh and give trouble to the elder ones. Up-stairs in a poor little\ngarret lay the sick child, rocked on the knees of its eldest sister,\nand looking very pinched and white and mournful. A Catholic priest\nwas in the room, and there were a few rude prints and a crucifix on\nthe walls. The little one was very silent, but the mother said it had\nasked piteously for the \"pretty gentleman\" to bring it some flowers.\nEgbert took its hand and stroked its small, thin face. The child was\nnot pretty, but it had that patient, confiding look that always stirs\nthe heart, that prematurely yet unconsciously sad expression that is\na thousand times more winning and more touching than beauty. For this\nvery reason had Egbert noticed it the day before, and asked its name\nand age with an interest that made all its companions jealous.\n\nAs he bent down to it, it said something he could not make out, and\nturning to the mother for explanation, \"She says, sir,\" answered the\npoor woman, \"would you please say a prayer?\" The young man reddened\nand looked at the priest. Again the child spoke. The priest said to\nEgbert: \"She has a fancy for it. Will you not say an Our Father for\nher?\"\n\nHe had chosen a prayer on which there could be no controversy, he\nthought, and was surprised when Egbert, instead of the Lord's Prayer,\nbegan a beautiful and impromptu supplication. For some time he went\non, and the child listened bewildered; but as he stretched his hand\ntowards her, and drew her head upon his arm, she said with a soft,\nchildish accent, as if recovering from an unintelligible surprise:\n\"No; say the Hail Mary.\"\n\nThe priest saw his head suddenly droop, and his fair hair touch the\nchild's darker locks; his voice sank, and sobs came instead of words;\nthen there was silence.\n\n\"Say the Hail Mary,\" said the child.\n\nEgbert never raised his head, but in a broken voice he said the\nprayer as the little one directed, and the Our Father directly after.\nBut the priest noticed that he said it as Catholics do, omitting the\nsuperadded words of the Protestant liturgy.\n\nA few moments after, the child's father came in; he had been sent for\nfrom his work.\n\nIt was not long before God counted another angel in his train, and\nthe mother one treasure less upon earth.\n\nEgbert left the cottage with the priest, promising to send flowers\nfor the little one's coffin, and to return to see it one more in the\nevening.\n\nHe was silent for some minutes, his companion watching him in\nappreciative sympathy, half-guessing the truth, and giving thanks to\nGod for his double accession to his church in one and the same hour.\nAt last the young man said:\n\n\"Mr. Carey, you were surprised I knew your prayers?\"\n\n\"I own I was, Mr. Stanway, but I was happy to see you did.\"\n\n\"I know more than them, and I always thought that, could I make any\nform of faith my own, it would be yours.\"\n\n\"And what you saw this morning has, I think, induced you to do so?\"\n\n\"I will tell you the truth, Mr. Carey. Up to this morning I could not\nbring myself to any tangible belief; at this moment, thank God, I\nthink I may venture to say I am a Catholic.\"\n\n\"My dear Mr. Stanway, this is indeed happy news. And see the\ninstrument God has chosen for your conversion!\"\n\n\"I have only one more question to ask you. I have studied the\nCatholic faith a long time; I may say I have loved it long, and, now\nthat I feel it to be the faith of my understanding as well as of my\nheart, may I not be received at once?\"\n\n\"Of course, if you will only come to my house, and we will have a\nfew moments' conversation. I have no doubt you can be made one of us\nbefore to-night.\"\n\nThe priest's house was a humble little cottage beyond the village\ngreen, and it had indeed needed all the Oxford scholar's taste to\nmake its evangelical poverty the type rather of voluntary detachment\nthan of necessary want.\n\nHere, in a modest little room, whose only ornaments were two or three\nD\u00fcsseldorf prints and a book-case of theological and controversial\nbooks uniformly bound, Egbert and Carey sat down for a short time,\nthat a few questions might satisfy the latter's judgment as to the\npropriety of at once receiving the new convert. He rose at last, and\npointed to a temporary confessional that stood in one corner. Egbert\nwas soon prepared, and every ceremony was rapidly performed. The\npriest could not help noticing the look of perfect peace that seemed\nto be the expression of the young man's predominant frame of mind. As\nhe was still fasting, Egbert pleaded hard to be allowed to receive\ncommunion directly after baptism, and, after a moment's hesitation,\nthe request was granted. He then paid another visit to the poor\ncottage where God had wrought this marvellous change in him, and\nreverently kissed the tiny white forehead of the little angel who had\ngone before him. And from that hour, there was not one in the village\nthat would not have died for the \"dear, kind gentleman that never\nsaid one hard word to a poor man.\" That day was remembered long years\nafter, when the children of the girl he had seen nursing her little\nsick sister followed his own honored remains to their last earthly\nabode, and when another and a less kind master had come to reign over\nStanway Hall.\n\nMeanwhile, in the great dining-room where the guests were assembled\nfor breakfast, conjectures were rife about the absent host, and\nlaughing questions were put about his idleness on his too-romantic\nmorning wanderings, until Mr. Beran, who also came in rather late,\ndispelled the whole mystery by an explanation consisting of one word,\nitself a mystery to many there present--business; and a courteous\napology from Egbert, who hoped his friends would consider Mr. Beran\nas his delegate for the house. A few portly matrons and unmusical\nschool-girls looked rather black at this substitution; but against\nfate what avails impatience? and against Beran, what availed black\nlooks?\n\nBut when at luncheon Egbert did not appear, and when at dinner he\ncame in with a saddened, grave demeanor, the discontented ones\nthought it really was time to throw up the game and go to other and\nmore tempting hunting-grounds. So the party broke up the next day,\nand Egbert and his Cousin Charles were free again. The old man was\nsoon made acquainted with what had taken place, and two days after\nboth he and the young lord of the hall followed the little child's\nfuneral to the Catholic cemetery.\n\nBut Egbert's heart was not yet satisfied. Heidelberg's memories were\nwith him night and day, and it was not many weeks before he started\nfor his German home with his new English friend as companion. He had\nnot cared to trust his precious news to the slender certainty of\nforeign posts. He wanted to see the very first glimmering of the\nexpression he knew it would call forth on one ever-dreamt-of face,\nand the journey was to him a ceaseless preparation for a joy that\nwould come suddenly after all.\n\nLeaving Beran at the \"Golden Kranz-Hof,\" he walked through the\ndarkling streets, past the silent _platz_, up to the old house he\nknew and loved so well. He never rang, for the door was open, and the\nnext moment he stood in the organ-room. It was empty--so was the next\napartment. A fear came over him, and he covered his face with his\nhands.\n\nPresently the door opened, and Herr Lebnach came in, looking aged and\nhaggard. There was no surprise on his face as he saw his pupil and\nfriend. \"I knew thou wouldst come,\" he said simply.\n\n\"Is she--\" began Egbert, fearing to shape his dread in words.\n\n\"No; come to her. She has asked for thee. Didst thou not get my\nletter?\"\n\n\"Letter! No, I came of my own accord.\"\n\n\"God be thanked! she will be _so_ happy!\"\n\nAnd this was his welcome! this the home he had been journeying\nto! Christina was lying in a small iron bed by the window, a vase\nof golden-lime blossoms on the table near her, and a prayer-book\nbeside it. Her hands were clasped carelessly on her knees, and her\nhead propped up very high with pillows. Egbert took her white,\ncold fingers in his, and knelt down by the bed. She only said his\nname--it was the first time she had ever done so.\n\n\"Christina,\" he said at length, \"I came to tell you something. Your\nfaith is mine now.\"\n\nA faint cry, and a pale, momentary flush, and then a long look in\nsilence.\n\n\"My God, I thank thee! My prayer is answered!\" So she spoke after a\nfew minutes.\n\n\"And I came to ask you something also,\" continued Egbert. \"Do you\nlove me as I always hoped you did?\"\n\n\"Egbert,\" she answered solemnly, \"I loved you from the first time I\nsaw you; but, when I found you did not love and know the dear God, I\noffered my life to him for your conversion, and he has answered me.\"\n\nEgbert told her briefly the circumstances that had occurred. A few\ndays passed, and one evening, when the red sunset was firing the\ncasement, and her father, her lover, and Charles Beran, were around\nher, she suddenly said, taking the two former by the hand:\n\n\"God is calling me--do not forget me. Your blessing, dearest father!\nO Egbert!\"\n\nAnd so died Egbert's first and only love.\n\nStrangers often asked, when they came to see the beautiful Catholic\nChurch adjoining Stanway Hall why it was dedicated to the virgin\nmartyr St. Christina.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SCEPTICISM OF THE AGE.\n\n\nThe strong current of scepticism which set in during the eighteenth\ncentury extends into the nineteenth. Among the lower strata of\nsociety, among the dwellings of the poor--long the last refuge of\nreligion--and especially among the factories and workshops, this\nscepticism has made various inroads on the ancient foundations\nof faith. By the sulphurous glare of the ominous flashes which\nmomentarily relieve the clouded European horizon, we often catch\nglimpses of the horrors that are steadily accumulating in the lowest\nsocial depths. A powerful Christian current, whose volume has as\nusual increased with persecution, runs evidently by the side of this\nscepticism, but the latter, nevertheless, preponderates, and it is\ntherefore not surprising that the barometric mean of our civilization\nshould be such a low one.\n\nThe frivolous scepticism of the Voltairean school, now almost extinct\nin the French army, still survives among a majority of the political\nand military leaders of the other Latin nations, as, for instance,\nin Spain and Piedmont. For this reason the noble Spanish people,\nin spite of their hereditary virtues and high spirit, are still\naccursed with mediocre party leaders, while statesmen like the pious\nand chivalrous Valdegamas are only too rare. In Piedmont, unbelief,\nleagued with Italian cunning and rapacity, has during the last\nyears borne blossoms which may well make us blush for our boasted\ncivilization. \"The proclamation of Cialdini and Pinelli\" (one of\nwhich calls the Pope a clerical vampire and vicegerent of Satan),\nobserved Nicotera, speaking in the National Assembly of the conduct\nof these generals in Naples and Sicily, \"would disgrace a Gengis-Khan\nand an Attila!\" \"Such acts,\" exclaimed Aversano, alluding to the same\nsubject in the Italian Parliament, \"must disgrace the whole nation\nin the eyes of the world!\" \"It is literally true,\" said Lapena,\nPresident of the Assizes at Santa Maria, \"that in this second half of\nthe nineteenth century a horde of cannibals exists in our beautiful\nItaly!\"\n\nOther nations may perhaps thank God with the Pharisee in Scripture\nthat they are not like the Italians. But if they have not gone to\nthe length of fusillading defenceless priests (the case of Gennaro\nd'Orso, _Gazette du Midi_, February 1, 1861)--if they have never\ntrodden under foot the crucifix--if their mercenaries have never\nraised blasphemous hands against the consecrated Host (_Giornale di\nRoma_, January 24, 1861)--in short, if other European nations have\nnot yet been guilty of such atrocities as the Italians, very few have\nmuch cause to pride themselves upon their godliness and piety. Even\nin Germany, the fanaticism of infidelity has brought men close to\nthe boundary-line which divides a false civilization from barbarism,\nand in some cases this line has already been crossed. At Mannheim\nthe cry, \"Kill the priests, and throw them into the Rhine!\" was\nraised in 1865. In many parts of Southern Germany, the members of\ncertain religious orders have been grossly ill-treated by an ignorant\nand brutal populace. \"It is but too true,\" says the Archbishop of\nFreiburg, in his pastoral of May 7, 1868, \"that the servants of the\nchurch are often exposed to insult and violence.\"\n\nAscending from the levels of ordinary life into the higher regions of\ncivilization, science, and art, we discover that the scepticism of\nthe last century has made more progress among our philosophers and\npoets. It is especially among the former that this scepticism seems\nto have gained ground, for materialism ranks lower in the scale of\nintelligence than the deification of the human mind. This return to\nthe atomic theory of Epicurus is calculated rather to stupefy than\nto enlighten, for Humboldt remarks that a multiplicity of elementary\nprinciples is not to be met with even among the savages. Materialism\nis utterly incapable of elevating the heart, and destroys therefore\na branch of civilization quite as essential as intellectual culture\nitself. Where all this tends to, how it brutalizes man and degrades\nhim below the animal, how it obliterates every distinction between\ngood and evil, how it robs our accountability of all meaning,\nhow it makes the savage state with its attendant ignorance and\nbarbarism our normal condition, has been forcibly pointed out in\nHaeffner's admirable treatise on _The Results of Materialism_. \"The\nmaterialist,\" says Haeffner, \"virtually tells man: You are wrong to\nset yourself in aristocratic pride over the other brutes; you are\nwrong to claim descent from a nobler race than the myriads of worms\nand grains of sand that lie at your feet; you are wrong to build your\ndwelling above the stalls of the animals: descend, therefore, from\nyour grand height, and embrace the cattle in the fields, greet the\ntrees and grasses as equals, and extend your hand in fellowship to\nthe dust whose kindred you are.\"\n\nAs in modern philosophy, so the scepticism of the preceding century\nis equally manifest in modern poetry. \"No department of human\nactivity,\" observes a profound thinker of the present day, \"is so\nfeeble and occupies so low a moral standpoint as poetry, through\nwhich all the demoralization of the eighteenth century has been\ntransmitted.\" It is a sort of confessional, from which we publish\nto the world our own effeminacy and degradation--not to regret and\nrepent, but to defend and make parade of them. What we feel ashamed\nto say in simple prose, we proclaim boldly and complacently in\nrhyme. If a poet soars now and then to virtue, it is generally only\nvirtue in the ancient heathen sense. Hence it comes that, when a\npolitical storm impends in the sultry atmosphere of the Old World,\nthe night-birds and owls of anarchy fill the air with their cries. In\ntimes of peace they luxuriate in our modern political economism with\nthe law of demand and supply, by whose agency human labor has been\nreduced to a mere commodity. In literature they preach the evangel of\nmaterialism under the flimsy guise of so-called popularized science,\nand even the school has been perverted into an institution whose sole\nobject seems to be to supply labor for the white slave mart.\n\nThose who desire to behold the fruits which spring from this\nunchristian culture of material interests should go to England for\nan illustration. Though the Anglican sect is the state religion,\ninfidelity has made nowhere greater progress than in that country.\nIts principal church, St. Paul's, London, gives no evidences of\nChristianity. The interior does not address itself like Paul to\nthe Areopagus, but like the Areopagus to Paul, for it inculcates\nan unadulterated heathenism. The first monument that arrests the\nattention of the visitor is dedicated to the pagan Fama, who consoles\nBritannia for the loss of her heroic sons. The next monument belongs\nto the heathen goddess of Victory, who crowns a Pasenby; while a\nMinerva calls the attention of budding warriors to La Marchand's\ndeath at Salamanca. Then come a Neptune with open arms, Egyptian\nsphinxes, the East India Company seal. When the principal religious\nedifice of a nation is thus turned into a heathen temple, the people\nthemselves must become heathenized, and this we find to be so here.\nIn Liverpool 40, in Manchester 51, in Lambeth 61, in Sheffield 62\nper cent. profess no religion at all. So says the London _Times_ of\nMay 4, 1860. In the city of London thousands and tens of thousands\nknow no more of Christianity than the veriest pagans. In the parish\nof St. Clement Danes, on the Strand, the rector discovered an\nirreligiousness incredible to believe (_Quarterly Review_, April,\n1861). For generations hundreds and thousands of coal miners have\nlived in utter ignorance of such a book as the Bible. In answer\nto the question whether he had ever heard of Jesus Christ, one of\nthem replied: \"No, for I have never worked in any of his mines.\"\nInnumerable facts attest that civilization retrogrades in a ratio\nwith this deplorable religious ignorance. \"Among all the states\nof Europe,\" remarked Fox in the House of Commons (Feb. 26, 1850),\n\"England is the one where education has been most neglected.\"\nThe justice of this observation is fully sustained by the report\npresented in May of the same year by the board of school trustees\nof Lancashire: \"Nearly half the people of this great nation,\" say\nthey, \"can neither read nor write, and a large part of the remainder\npossesses only the most indispensable education.\" Out of 11,782\nchildren, 5,805 could barely spell, and only 2,026 could read with\nfluency. Out of 14,000 teachers, male and female, 7,000 were found\ngrossly incompetent for their positions. Among the troops sent to the\nCrimea, no more than one soldier in every five was able to write a\nletter home.\n\nA glance at a few statistics will clearly show that moral\ndeterioration keeps even pace with the intellectual. From 1810 to\n1837, the number of criminals has annually increased, in certain\ndistricts, from 89 to 3,117; from 1836 to 1843, the average number\nof persons arrested each year in the manufacturing districts of\nYork and Lancaster increased over 100 per cent., and the number of\nmurderers 89 per cent.; from 1846 to 1850, the number of criminals\nin the Dorset district increased from 726 to 1,300, giving, in a\npopulation of 115,000 souls, 1 criminal to every 60 individuals. In\nLondon, the number of persons arrested in 1856 amounted to 73,260,\nwhence it appears that about 1 inhabitant in every 40 passes through\nthe hands of the police. Of the 200,000 criminal offences tried each\nyear before the English tribunals, one-tenth part are committed by\nchildren, and 50,000 by persons less than twenty years of age. In\nLondon alone, 17,000 minors are yearly tried, which is 1 inhabitant\nin every 175; whereas the ratio for Paris is only 1 inhabitant in\nevery 400. Mayhew computes that \u00a342,000 are stolen during the year in\nthe metropolis; and the London _Examiner_ lately deplored that there\nshould be less danger in crossing the great desert than in passing\nthrough some of the more remote suburbs of London at night. The\nstory of a Professor Fagin, who gave private lessons in stealing,\nhas often been regarded as a canard; but we read, in the _Morning\nChronicle_, an advertisement in which one Professor Harris announces\na similar course of instruction, and even promises his pupils to\ntake them, for practice, to the theatres and other places of public\nresort. Among these startling fruits of British civilization must\nbe included the 28 cases of polygamy which occurred in London in a\nsingle twelvemonth; the 12,770 illegitimate children born, during\n1856, in the workhouses alone; the children market, held openly in\na London street every Wednesday and Thursday, between the hours of\nsix and seven, where parents exhibit their offspring for sale, or\nhire them out for infamous purposes. Such being the condition of an\noverwhelming majority of the people, it is no longer difficult to\ncredit the existence of the new race which is now said to be growing\nup in England--a race whose civilization Dr. Shaw contrasts, rather\ndisparagingly, with that of the African and the Indian. \"After a\ncareful investigation,\" says Dr. Shaw, \"I have been forced to arrive\nat the conclusion that, while the moral, physical, intellectual, and\neducational status of the lowest English classes is about on the same\nlevel with that of the savage, they rank even below him in morals and\ncustoms.\"\n\nAnd what has England, politically considered, done for the cause of\ncivilization since cotton achieved its great triumph over corn? As\none of the great powers of the Christian world, she has virtually\nabdicated. For national right and justice, for really oppressed\nnationalities, she has long ceased to upraise her voice or her arm.\nIt is only when some Manchester cotton-lord suffers an injury in his\npocket that her fleets threaten a bombardment. She is an asylum\nfor the refuse of all nations, and freely permits the torch of the\nincendiary to be cast into the dwellings of her neighbors. Her\nliterature, philosophy, religion, as well as her industry, trade,\nand diplomacy, are intended to hand the nations completely over to\nmaterialism. Wherever England's policy predominates, there virtue and\nsimplicity, happiness and peace, disappear from the earth, and out\nof the ruins rises an arrogant and inordinate craving for the goods\nof this world. British influence has destroyed Portugal, weakened\nSpain, distracted Italy, and impaired the moral prestige of France.\nHer religious apathy encourages a degrading heathenism. Britain's\npolitical economy has inaugurated in Europe not only a serfdom of\nlabor, but a serfdom of mind. The Scotchman, Ferguson, predicted that\nthought would become a trade, and Lasalle remarks that it has already\nbecome one in the hands of most English scholars. And these are the\nresults of our much-vaunted civilization!\n\nThe pernicious example set by England in philosophy, poetry, and\nletters has unfortunately found but too many imitators on the\nContinent of Europe and elsewhere. Our literature is at present in\nthe same condition in which it was in the days of Sophists and Greek\ndecadence. When God desires to punish a civilized people--remarked\nsome years ago an eloquent French pulpit orator--he visits them\nwith such a swarm of unbelieving scholars as the clouds of locusts\nwhich he inflicted upon ancient Egypt. Men of perverse heads and\ncorrupted hearts generate, in centuries which are called enlightened,\na darkness upon which the goddess Genius of Knowledge sheds uncertain\nflashes, resembling the lightning which relieves the evening sky on\nthe approach of a storm: The Sophists of ancient Greece were such\nheralds of impending wrath and desolation, and this class of men\nclosely resemble the majority of our modern literati. If we compare\nthe atheistic, material tendencies of a Protagoras, Antiphon, or\n\u0152nopides with our present progressive science; if we recall the time\nwhen Prodikus or Critias, in their efforts to destroy the religion\nof Greece, represented it as an invention of selfishness or of the\nancient lawgivers; if Hippias offered himself to lecture on every\nconceivable subject, just as prominent writers now undertake to\ndiscuss all topics; if the latter again cloak their designs under the\nsame phraseology; in short, when all this is once more re-enacted,\nthen the parallel between that age and our own will be found almost\nperfect. The same class of scholars flourished in both eras; in both\nthey claimed to be the high-priests of truth, although they are no\nmore entitled to this honor than those whom Lucian describes leading\nthe Syrian goddess on asses about the land. We live, in fact, in the\ndays of a declining civilization, and nothing but a speedy return to\nthe cardinal principles of Christianity can save us from relapsing\ninto barbarism.\n\n\n\n\nMATER CHRISTI.\n\n\n      Mother of Christ--then mother of us all:\n        Mother of God made man, of man made God:[97]\n        The thornless garden, the immaculate sod,\n      Whence sprang the Adam that reversed the fall.\n      Mother of Christ the Body Mystical;\n        Of us the members, as of him the Head:\n        Of him our life, the first-born from the dead;[98]\n      Of us baptized into his burial.[99]\n      Yes, Mother, we were truly born of thee\n        On Calvary's second Eden--thou its Eve:\n      Thy dolors were our birth-pangs by the tree\n        Whereon the second Adam died to live--\n      To live in us, thy promised seed to be,\n        Who then his death-wound to the snake didst give.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[97] \"God became man that man might become God.\"--_St. Augustine._\n\n[98] Col. i. 18.\n\n[99] Rom. vi. 4.\n\n\n\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.\n\nPART VII.\n\n\nI.\n\nThe clergy still kept away from the grotto and aloof from all share\nin the movement. The orders of Mgr. Laurence were strictly observed\nthroughout the diocese.\n\nThe people, cruelly harassed by the persecuting measures of the\nadministration, turned with anxiety toward the authority charged by\nGod with the conduct and defence of the faithful. They expected to\nsee the bishop protest energetically against the violence offered to\ntheir religious liberty. A vain hope! His lordship kept absolutely\nsilent, and let the prefect have everything his own way. Shortly\nafterward, M. Massy caused to be circulated in print a report that he\nacted according to agreement with the ecclesiastical authority; then\nastonishment became general, for the bishop did not publish a line in\ncontradiction.\n\nThe heart of the people was troubled.\n\nHitherto the ardent faith of the multitude had been at a loss to\nexplain the extreme cautiousness of the clergy. At the present\njuncture, after so many proofs of the reality of the apparitions,\nthe springing up of the fountain, and so many cures and miracles,\nthis excessive reserve of the bishop during the persecution of the\ncivil power seemed to them like a defection. Neither respect for his\nprivate character nor even his office could restrain the popular\nmurmurs.\n\nWhy not pronounce upon the matter, now that the elements of certainty\nwere flowing in from all quarters? Why not, at least, order some\ninquiry or examination to guide the faith of all? Were not events\nwhich might suffice to overthrow the civil power and raise a sedition\nworth the attention of the bishop? Did not the prelate's silence\njustify the prefect in acting as he did? If the apparition were\nfalse, ought not the bishop to have warned the faithful and nipped\nerror in the bud? If, on the other hand, it were true, ought he not\nto have set his face against this persecution of believers, and\ncourageously defended the work of God against the malice of men?\nWould not a mere sign from the bishop, even an examination, have\nstopped the prefect from entering upon his course of persecution?\nWere the priests and the bishop deaf to all the demands for\nrecognition which came from the foot of this rock, ever to be\ncelebrated as the place where the Mother of our crucified God had set\nher virginal foot? Had the letter succeeded in killing the spirit,\nas among the priests and Pharisees of the Gospel, so that they were\nblind to the most striking miracles? Were they so occupied with the\nadministration of church affairs, so absorbed by their clerical\nfunctions, that the almighty hand of God outside the temple was for\nthem an affair of little account? Was this time of miracles and\npersecution a proper season for the bishop to take the last place,\nas in processions?\n\nSuch was the clamor that arose and daily swelled from the crowd.\nThe clergy were accused of indifference or hostility, the bishop of\nweakness and timidity.\n\nLed by events and the natural bent of the human heart, this vast\nmovement of men and ideas, so essentially religious in spirit,\nthreatened to become opposed to the clergy. The multitude, so full of\nfaith in the Trinity and the Blessed Virgin, seemed about to go where\nthe divine power was plainly manifest, and to desert the sanctuary,\nwhere, under the priestly vestment, the weaknesses of men are too\noften to be found.\n\nNevertheless, Mgr. Laurence continued immovable in his attitude\nof reserve. What was the reason that made the prelate resist the\npopular voice, so often taken for the voice of Heaven? Was it divine\nprudence? Was it human prudence? Was it shrewdness? Or was it mere\nweakness?\n\n\nII.\n\nIt is not always so easy to believe, and in spite of the striking\nproof, Mgr. Laurence still retained some doubts, and hesitated to\nact. His well-instructed faith was not as quick as the faith of the\nsimple. God, who shows himself, so to speak, to souls who cannot\npursue human studies, is often pleased to impose a long and patient\nsearch upon cultivated and informed minds who are able to arrive at\ntruth by the way of labor, examination, and reflection. Even as the\nApostle St. Thomas refused to believe the testimony of the disciples\nand the holy women, so Mgr. Laurence desired to see with his own\neyes and touch with his own hands. Exact, and far more inclined to\nthe practical than to the ideal, by nature distrustful of popular\nexaggeration, the prelate belonged to that class who are chilled\nby the passionate sentiments of others, and who readily suspect\nself-deception in anything like emotion or enthusiasm. Although at\ntimes he was startled by such extraordinary events, he so feared to\nattribute them rashly to the supernatural that he might have put off\nhis acknowledgment of their true source until it was too late, were\nit not that his natural bent had been well tempered by the grace of\nGod.\n\nNot only did Mgr. Laurence hesitate to pronounce judgment, but he\ncould not even make up his mind to order an official inquiry. As a\nCatholic bishop penetrated with the external dignity of the church,\nhe feared to compromise it by engaging prematurely to examine facts\nof which he himself had insufficient personal knowledge, and which,\nafter all, might have no better foundation than the dreams of a\nlittle peasant and the illusions of poor fanatical souls.\n\nOf course the bishop never had counselled the measures taken by the\ncivil power, and warmly disapproved them. But, since the wrong had\nbeen committed, was it not prudent to draw from it an accidental\ngood? Was it not well--if, perchance, there were some error in the\npopular stories and belief--to abandon the pretended miracle, and\nallow it to sustain single-handed the hostile examinations and\npersecution of M. Massy, the free-thinkers, and scientists leagued\ntogether against superstition? Was it not proper to wait, and not to\nhasten a conflict with the civil power which might prove entirely\nunnecessary? The bishop privately answered after this manner all who\npressed him to interfere: \"I deplore as much as you the measures\nwhich have been taken; but I have no charge of the police, I have\nnot been consulted with regard to their proceedings, what then can\nI do? Let everybody answer for his own acts.... I have had nothing\nto do with the action of the civil power in reference to the grotto;\nand I am glad of it. By-and-by the ecclesiastical authority will\nsee if it is necessary to move.\" In this spirit of prudence and\nexpectation, the bishop ordered his clergy to preach calmness and\nquiet to the people, and to employ all means to make them submit\nto the prohibitions of the prefect. To avoid all disturbance, not\nto create any new difficulties, and even to favor, out of respect\nfor the principle of authority, the measures adopted in the name of\ngovernment, and to let events take their course, seemed to the bishop\nby far the wisest plan.\n\nSuch were the thoughts of Mgr. Laurence, as is manifest from his\ncorrespondence about this time. Such were the considerations which\ndetermined his position and inspired his conduct. Perhaps, if he\nhad possessed the strong faith of the multitude, he would have\nreasoned otherwise. But it was well that he reasoned and acted\nas he did. Because, if Mgr. Laurence, with the prudence becoming\na bishop, looked from the standpoint of possible error, God with\ninfinite wisdom saw the certainty of his own acts and the truth of\nhis work. God willed that his work should undergo the test of time,\nand should affirm itself by surmounting without human aid the trials\nof persecution. If the bishop had from the start believed in the\napparitions and miracles, could he have refrained from a generous\noutburst of apostolic zeal and energetic interference in behalf of\nhis persecuted flock? If he really had believed that the Mother\nof God had appeared in his diocese, healing the sick and demanding\na temple in her honor, could he have balanced against the will of\nheaven the pitiful opposition of a Massy, a Jacomet, or a Rouland?\nCertainly not. With what an ardent faith he would have set himself\nwith mitred brow and cross in hand against the civil power, as St.\nAmbrose of old met the emperor at the church-door of Milan! Openly\nand at the head of his flock, he would have gone without fear to\ndrink at the miraculous fountain, to kneel in the place sanctified by\nthe footsteps of the Blessed Virgin, and to lay the corner-stone of a\nmagnificent temple in honor of Mary Immaculate.\n\nBut in thus defending the work of God at that time, the prelate would\nhave infallibly weakened it in the future. The support which he gave\nit at the start would hereafter render it suspected as emanating\nfrom man and not from God. The more that the bishop kept aloof from\nthe movement, the more rebellious or even hostile he may be showed\nto have been to the popular faith, so much the more clearly is the\nsupernatural manifested by its triumph, singly and in virtue of its\ntruth, over the hatred or neglect of all that bears the name of power.\n\nProvidence resolved that so it should be, and that the great\napparition of the Blessed Virgin in the nineteenth century should\npass through trials, as did Christianity, from its very birth. He\nwished that universal faith should commence among the poor and\nhumble, in the same way as, in the kingdom of heaven, the first\nwere last and the last first. It was then necessary, according to\nthe divine plan, that the bishop, far from taking the initiative,\nshould hesitate the longest, and finally yield last of all to the\nirresistible evidence of facts.\n\nSee how, in his secret designs, he had placed at Tarbes on its\nepiscopal throne the eminent and reserved man whose portrait we have\njust sketched. See how he had kept Mgr. Laurence from putting faith\nin the apparition, and maintained him in doubt in spite of the most\nstriking facts. Thus, he confirmed in the prelate that spirit of\nprudence which he had bestowed upon him, and left to his episcopal\nwisdom that character of long hesitation and extreme mildness which,\nin the midst of their excitement, the people could not comprehend,\nbut whose providential usefulness and admirable results the future\nwas about to manifest to the eyes of all.\n\nThe people had the virtue of faith, but in their ardor they wished to\nforce the clergy into premature interference. The bishop possessed\nthe virtue of prudence, but his eyes were not yet opened to the\nsupernatural events which were taking place in the sight of all.\nComplete wisdom and the just measure of all things were then as ever\nin the mind of God alone, who directed them toward the end and made\nuse both of the ardor of the people and the prelate. He willed that\nhis church, represented by the bishop, should abstain from taking an\nactive part, and keep out of the struggle until the supreme moment,\nwhen she was to step forward as the final arbiter in the debate and\nproclaim the truth.\n\n\nIII.\n\nLess calm and less patient than the bishop by their very nature,\nand now carried away by enthusiasm at sight of the miraculous cures\nwhich took place daily, the people could not bear themselves so\nindifferently toward the measures of the administration.\n\nThe more intrepid, braving the tribunals and their fines, broke\nthrough the barriers, and, flinging their names to the guards, went\nto pray before the grotto. Among these same guards many shared the\nfaith of the crowd, and commenced their watch by kneeling at the\nentrance to the venerable spot.\n\nPlaced between the morsel of bread which their humble employment\nprocured and the repulsive duty which was demanded by it, these poor\nmen, in their prayer to the Mother of the weak and needy, cast all\nthe responsibility upon the authority which controlled their acts.\nNevertheless, they strictly fulfilled their duty and reported all the\ndelinquents.\n\nAlthough the impetuous zeal of many believers caused them to expose\nthemselves willingly in order to invoke the Blessed Virgin in the\nplace of her apparition, nevertheless the jurisprudence of M. Duprat,\nwhose fine of five francs could be raised, as we have explained, to\nenormous sums, was sufficient to terrify the great mass. For most of\nthem, such a condemnation would have been utter ruin.\n\nAnd yet a great number endeavored to escape the rigorous surveillance\nof the police. Sometimes the faithful, respecting the barriers where\nthe guards were stationed, came to the grotto by secret paths. One of\nthe number watched and gave notice of the approach of the police by\nan appointed signal. It was with the utmost difficulty that the sick\ncould be transported to the miraculous fountain. The authorities,\nbeing notified of these infractions, doubled the number of sentries\nand intercepted all the paths.\n\nStill, many swam across the Gave to kneel before the grotto and drink\nat the holy fountain. Night favored such infractions, and they\nmultiplied continually in spite of the vigilance of the police. The\ninfluence of the clergy was greatly lessened and almost compromised\non account of the reasons which we have set forth.\n\nIn spite of the efforts which they made to carry out the orders of\nthe bishop, the priests were powerless to calm the general agitation\nor to cause their flock to respect the arbitrary measures of the\ncivil power. \"We ought to respect only that which is respectable,\"\nsuch was the revolutionary motto which everywhere found echo. The\npersonal ascendency of the cur\u00e9 of Lourdes, who was so universally\nloved and venerated, began to give way before popular irritation.\n\nOrder was threatened by the very means that were taken to maintain\nit. The people, wounded in their most cherished beliefs, wavered\nbetween violence and submission. While on one hand petitions to the\nemperor were signed in all parts demanding the withdrawal of the\norders of the prefect in the name of liberty of conscience, on the\nother hand the planks which closed the grotto were several times torn\noff during the night and thrown into the Gave. Jacomet vainly strove\nto find out these believers, so wanting in respect for the civil\npower as to abandon themselves without shame to a crime hitherto\nunknown to our laws, nocturnal prayer with trespass and breach of\nenclosure.\n\nSometimes they prostrated themselves at the stakes which formed the\nboundary of the forbidden ground--a mute protest against the measures\nof the government, and a mute appeal to Almighty God.\n\nOn the day which saw the sentence of the tribunal of Lourdes set\naside by the court of Pau with reference to several women who were\nprosecuted for innocent conversation about the grotto, and two\nothers who were acquitted, then an enormous crowd gathered around\nthe stakes, they shouted victory, and passed the barriers in compact\nmasses without a word in answer to the cries and efforts of the\npolice. The latter, disconcerted by the recent check at Pau and\noverpowered by the multitude, gave way and let the torrent pass.\nThe following day orders and remonstrances from the prefect came\nto comfort them and to prescribe a stricter watch. The force was\nincreased. Threats of dismissal were bruited by the agent of the\ngovernment, and vigilance redoubled.\n\nSinister reports of imprisonment absolutely false, but cleverly\ncirculated, were readily accepted by the multitude. The real\npenalties not being sufficient, it was necessary to resort to\nimaginary ones in order to make a stronger impression on the souls of\nthe faithful. By such means they succeeded in hindering for a time\nany renewal of the open infractions of the law.\n\nOccasionally, unfortunate victims of blindness or palsy from a\ndistance, who had been abandoned by the physicians and whose ills God\nalone knew how to cure, would come to the mayor and entreat him with\nclasped hands to give their lives one last chance at the miraculous\nspring. The mayor was inflexible, showing in his execution of the\nprefect's orders that energy of detail by which feeble natures so\noften deceive themselves. He refused in the name of the superior\nauthority the desired permission.\n\nThe greater number then went along the right bank of the Gave to a\npoint opposite the grotto. Here on certain days an immense throng\ncollected, beyond the reach of the prefectoral power; for the land\nbelonged to private parties, who believed that the benediction of\nHeaven would fall upon the footprints of the pilgrims, and gladly\npermitted them to kneel upon their land, and to pray with eyes turned\ntoward the place of the apparition and the miraculous fountain.\n\nAbout this time, Bernadette fell sick, affected by her asthma and\nalso fatigued by the number of visitors who wished to see and speak\nwith her. In hopes of quieting souls by removing every cause of\nagitation, the bishop availed himself of this circumstance to advise\nBernadette's parents to send her to the baths of Cauterets, which are\nnot far from Lourdes.\n\nIt would serve to withdraw her from those conversations and inquiries\nwhich served to increase popular emotion. The Soubirous, alarmed at\nher state, and observing the bad effect of these continual visits,\nconfided Bernadette to one of her aunts who was about to go to\nCauterets, and who undertook the care and expenses of her little\nniece. The cost of such a visit is considerably less at that time of\nthe year than any other, as the baths are almost deserted. The rich\nand privileged come later in the season. Here, as an invalid seeking\nrepose and quiet, Bernadette used the waters for two or three weeks.\n\n\nIV.\n\nAs the month of June draws to a close, the fashionable watering\nseason begins in the Pyrenees. Bernadette returned to her home at\nLourdes. And now, tourists, bathers, travellers, and scientific men\nfrom a thousand different parts of Europe began to arrive at the\nvarious thermal stations. The rugged mountains, so wild and lonely\nduring the rest of the year, were peopled with a throng of visitors\nbelonging for the most part to the higher social class of the great\ncities.\n\nBy the close of July, the Pyrenees became suburbs of Paris, London,\nRome, and Berlin.\n\nFrenchmen and foreigners met in the dining-halls, jostled one another\nin the _salons_, rambled among the mountain-paths, or rode in every\ndirection, along the streams, over the ridges, or through the flowery\nand shaded valleys.\n\nMinisters worn out by labor, deputies and senators fatigued by\ntoo much listening or speaking, bankers, politicians, merchants,\necclesiastics, magistrates, writers, and people of the world, all\ncame to provide for their health, not only at the famous springs, but\nin the pure and bracing mountain air, which gives energy to the pulse\nand fills the mind with vigor and activity.\n\nThis motley society represented all beliefs and disbeliefs, all the\nphilosophic systems, and all the opinions under the sun. It was a\nmicrocosm. It was an abridged edition of Europe--that Europe which\nProvidence thus wished to place in presence of his supernatural\nworks. Nevertheless, as of old in Bethlehem he showed himself to the\nshepherds before his manifestation to the Magian kings; so at Lourdes\nhe first called the humble and the poor to behold his wonders, and\nonly after them the princes of wealth, intelligence, and art.\n\nFrom Cauterets, from Bar\u00e8ges, from Luz, from St. Sauveur, strangers\nhastened to Lourdes. The city was filled with rattling coaches,\ndrawn, according to the custom of the country, by four powerful\nhorses, whose harness and trappings are of many colors and adorned\nwith strings of little bells. The greater proportion of the pilgrims\npaid no attention to the barriers. They braved the law and went into\nthe grotto, some out of motives of faith, and others led by mere\ncuriosity. Bernadette received innumerable visits. Everybody wished\nto see and could see the persons who had been miraculously cured. In\nthe _salons_ at the baths, the events which we have recounted formed\nthe universal topic of conversation. Little by little, public opinion\nbegan to be formed, no longer the opinion of an insignificant nook at\nthe foot of the Pyrenees, and extending only from Bayonne to Toulouse\nor Foix, but the opinion of France and Europe, now represented among\nthe mountains by visitors of all classes, of every intellectual\nshade, and from every place.\n\nThe violent measures of Baron Massy, which vexed curiosity as much as\npiety, were highly censured by all. Some said that they were illegal,\nothers that they were misplaced, but all agreed that they were\nutterly inadequate to suppressing the prodigious movement of which\nthe grotto and the miraculous spring were the centre.\n\nThe evidences of this total inefficiency drew upon the prefect severe\ncriticism from those who shared his horror of the supernatural,\nand who at the start would have loudly applauded his policy. Men\nin general, and free-thinkers in particular, judge the acts of\ngovernment rather by their results than by philosophic principles.\n\nSuccess is the most certain means of winning their approval;\nfailure, a twofold misfortune, since universal blame is added to the\nhumiliation of defeat. M. Massy was subject to this double mishap.\n\nThere were circumstances, however, which put the zeal of the police\nand even the official courage of M. Jacomet to a rude test.\nIllustrious personages violated the enclosure.\n\nWhat was to be done in such embarrassing cases?\n\nOnce they suddenly halted a stranger, of strongly marked and powerful\nfeatures, who passed the stakes with the manifest intention of going\nto the Massabielle rocks.\n\n\"You can't pass here, sir.\"\n\n\"You will soon see whether I can or cannot pass,\" answered the\nstranger, without for a moment arresting his progress towards the\nplace of the apparition.\n\n\"Your name? I will enter a complaint against you.\"\n\n\"My name is Louis Veuillot,\" replied the stranger.\n\nWhile the process was being drawn up against the celebrated writer,\na lady crossed the limits a short distance behind him, and went to\nkneel before the planks that shut up the grotto. Through the cracks\nof the palisade she watched the bubbling miraculous spring and\nprayed. What was she asking of God? Was her prayer directed towards\nthe past or the future? Was it for herself or others, whose destiny\nhad been confided to her? Did she ask the blessing of Heaven for one\nperson or for a family? Never mind!\n\nThis lady did not escape the watchful eyes of him who represented at\nonce the prefectoral policy, the magistracy, and the police.\n\nArgus quitted M. Veuillot, and rushed towards the kneeling figure.\n\n\"Madame,\" said he, \"it is not permitted to pray here. You are caught\nin open violation of the law; you will have to answer for it before\nthe police court. Your name?\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" replied the lady; \"I am Madame l'Amirale Bruat,\ngoverness to his highness the Prince Imperial.\"\n\nThe terrible Jacomet had, above all things, a respect for the\nsocial hierarchy and the powers that be. He did not pursue the\n_proc\u00e8s-verbal_. Such scenes were often renewed. Certain of the\n_proc\u00e8s-verbaux_ frightened the agents, and may possibly have\nfrightened the prefect himself.\n\nA deplorable state of things: his orders were violated with impunity\nby the powerful, and cruelly maintained at the expense of the weak.\nHe had two sets of weights and measures.\n\n\nV.\n\nThe question raised by the various supernatural occurrences, by the\napparitions--true or false--of the Blessed Virgin, by the breaking\nout of the fountain, and by the real or imaginary cures, could not\nremain for ever in suspense. Such was the conviction of everybody.\nIt was necessary that the matter should be submitted to severe and\ncompetent inquiry.\n\nStrangers, who spent but a short season in the place, who had not\nwitnessed from the first the miraculous events, and who could not\nform a conviction from personal knowledge, as could the inhabitants\nof the surrounding country, amid the various accounts and opinions\nthat were to be heard from all quarters, were unanimous in their\nastonishment at the apparent indifference of the clergy. And, while\nthey blamed the inopportune meddling of the civil power, they\nalso censured the prolonged inaction of the religious authority,\npersonified in the bishop.\n\nThe free-thinkers, interpreting the hesitation of the prelate to\ntheir own advantage, felt confident of his final verdict. The\npartisans of Baron Massy began to announce an entire accord between\nthe sentiments of the bishop and those of the prefect. They cast the\nentire responsibility of the violent measures upon Mgr. Laurence.\n\n\"The bishop,\" they said, \"might, by a single word, have put a stop\nto this superstition. It was only necessary for him to deliver his\njudgment on the matter. But in default of his action, the civil\nauthority has been forced to proceed.\"\n\nBut in view of the evidence for the miracles, the faithful considered\nthe final judgment as certainly favorable to their belief.\nMoreover, a great number of strangers who had no conviction nor\nparty prejudices, sought to be relieved of their uncertainty by a\ndefinitive examination. \"Of what use,\" said they, \"is religious\nauthority if not to decide such matters, and to fix the faith of\nthose whom distance, or lack of documents, or other causes, prevent\nfrom examining and settling the question for themselves?\"\n\nContinual demands reached the ears of the bishop. The murmur of the\ncrowd was swelled by the voice of those that are usually styled the\n\"enlightened class,\" although their lesser lights sometimes cause\nthem to lose sight of brighter ones. Everybody demanded a formal\ninquest.\n\nSupernatural cures continued to manifest themselves. Hundreds\nof authentic affidavits of miraculous cures, signed by numerous\nwitnesses, were daily received at the bishop's palace.[100]\n\nOn the 16th of July, the Feast of Our Lady of Mount Carmel,\nBernadette heard again within herself the voice which had been silent\nfor some months, and which no longer called her to the Massabielle\nrocks, then fenced and guarded, but to the right bank of the Gave,\nto the meadow where the crowd knelt and prayed beyond reach of\n_proc\u00e8s-verbaux_ and annoyance of the police. It was now eight\no'clock in the evening.\n\nScarcely had the child prostrated herself and commenced to recite\nher beads, when the divine Mother appeared to her. The Gave, which\nseparated her from the grotto, had no existence for her ecstatic\nvision. She saw only the blessed rock, quite close to her, as\nformerly, and the immaculate Virgin, whose sweet smile confirmed all\nthe past and vouched for all the future. No word escaped her heavenly\nlips. At a certain moment she bent towards the child as if to take a\nlong farewell. Then she re-entered paradise. This was the eighteenth\napparition: it was to be the last.\n\nIn a different or opposite sense, strange facts now took place which\nit is necessary to notice. On three or four occasions, certain women\nand children had, or pretended to have, visions similar to those of\nBernadette.\n\nWere these visions real? Was diabolical mysticism endeavoring to\nmix with the divine in order to trouble it? Was there at the bottom\nof these singular phenomena a mental derangement or the ill-timed\ntrickery of naughty children? Or was there a hostile hand secretly at\nwork pushing forward these visionaries in order to cast discredit on\nthe miracles at the grotto? We cannot tell.\n\nThe multitude, whose eyes were fixed on all the details, and who\neagerly sought to draw conclusions from what they already knew, were\nless reserved in their judgment.\n\nThe supposition that the false visionaries were incited by the\npolice immediately took possession of the public mind as being\nvery consistent with the policy of the authorities. The children\nwho pretended to have had visions mingled their accounts with most\nextravagant incoherencies. Once they scaled the barrier which\nenclosed the grotto, and, under pretence of offering their services\nto the pilgrims, of procuring the water for them, and of touching\ntheir beads on the rock, they received and appropriated money.\nStrange to say, Jacomet did not interfere with their proceedings,\nalthough it would have been quite easy to have arrested them. He\neven affected not to notice these strange scenes, ecstasies, and\nviolations of the enclosure. From this surprising behavior of the\nshrewd and far-sighted chief, everybody concluded the existence\nof one of those secret plots of which the police, and even the\nadministration, are sometimes thought capable.\n\n\"Baron Massy,\" so they said, \"sees that public opinion is withdrawing\nfrom him, and, convinced that open violence is insufficient to put\na stop to these events, has sought to dishonor them in principle by\nencouraging the false visionaries, full accounts of whom we shall\nsoon see in the journals and the official reports. _Is fecit cui\nprodest._\"\n\nWhatever might have been the truth of these suspicions, perhaps\nincorrect, such scenes could not but disturb the peace of souls. The\ncur\u00e9 of Lourdes, moved by these scandals, immediately expelled the\npretended seers from the _catechisme_, and declared that, if similar\noccurrences took place in the future, he would not rest until he had\nexposed their true instigators.\n\nThe position and threats of the cur\u00e9 produced a sudden and radical\neffect. The pretended visions ceased at once, and nothing more was\nheard of them. They had only lasted four or five days.\n\nM. Peyramale notified the bishop of this occurrence. M. Jacomet, on\nhis part, addressed to the authorities an exaggerated and romantic\nstatement, of which we will have future occasion to speak. This\naudacious attempt of the enemy to destroy the true nature and honor\nof the movement only added to the reasons which called peremptorily\nfor action on the part of the bishop. Everything seemed to indicate\nthat the moment for interference had come, when the religious\nauthority should set about examining and giving sentence.\n\nMen of distinction in the Catholic world, such as Mgr. de Salines,\nArchbishop of Auch; Mgr. Thibaud, Bishop of Montpellier; Mgr. de\nGarsignies, Bishop of Soissons; M. Louis Veuillot, chief editor of\nthe _Univers_; and persons less widely celebrated, but of national\nreputation, such as M. de Ress\u00e9guier, formerly a deputy; M. V\u00e8ne,\nchief engineer of mines, and inspector-general of thermal waters in\nthe Pyrenees; and a great number of eminent Catholics, were at that\ntime in the country.\n\nAll had examined these extraordinary facts which form the subject\nof our history; all had interrogated Bernadette; all were either\nbelievers or strongly inclined to believe. They tell of one of the\nmost venerated bishops, that he was unable to control the emotion\nawakened by the _naif_ statement of the little seer. Gazing upon\nthe open brow which had received the glance of the ineffable Virgin\nMother of God, the prelate could not restrain the first movement of\npiety. The prince of the church bowed before the majesty of that\nhumble peasant.\n\n\"Pray for me; bless me and my flock,\" he cried, choked with emotion,\nand sinking on his knees.\n\n\"Rise! rise! my lord! It is yours to bless her,\" said the cur\u00e9 of\nLourdes, who was present, and instantly seized the bishop's hand.\n\nAlthough the priest had sprung forward quickly, Bernadette had\nalready advanced, and, all abashed in her humility, bowed her head\nfor the blessing of the prelate.\n\nThe bishop gave it, but not without shedding tears.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe entire course of events, the testimony of such grave men, and\ntheir evident conviction after examining, were facts which made a\nlively impression on the clear and sagacious mind of the Bishop of\nTarbes. Mgr. Laurence thought that the time had now come to speak,\nand he came forth from his silence. On July 28, he published the\nfollowing orders, which were immediately known throughout the entire\ndiocese, and produced intense excitement; for every one understood\nthat the strange position which he had hitherto assumed was now about\nto have its solution:\n\n\n    \"ORDER OF HIS LORDSHIP THE BISHOP OF TARBES,\n    CONSTITUTING A COMMISSION TO REPORT ON THE AUTHENTICITY\n    AND NATURE OF CERTAIN FACTS WHICH HAVE, FOR SIX MONTHS,\n    BEEN TAKING PLACE ON OCCASION OF A REAL OR PRETENDED\n    APPARITION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN IN A GROTTO SITUATED\n    WEST OF THE TOWN OF LOURDES.\n\n    \"Bertrand-Severe-Laurence, by the mercy of God and the\n    apostolic favor of the Holy See, Bishop of Tarbes.\n\n    \"To the clergy and faithful of our diocese, health and\n    benediction in our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\n    \"Facts of grave importance, and intimately connected\n    with religion, have been occurring at Lourdes since the\n    eleventh of last February. They have stirred our whole\n    diocese, and their fame has been re-echoed in foreign\n    parts.\n\n    \"Bernadette Soubirous, a young girl of Lourdes,\n    fourteen years of age, has had visions in the\n    Massabielle grotto, situated west of that town. The\n    Blessed Virgin has appeared to her. A fountain has\n    risen on the spot. The water of this fountain, having\n    been drunk or used as a wash, has operated a great\n    number of cures, which are considered miraculous.\n    Many persons have come from parts of our own and from\n    neighboring dioceses to seek, at this fountain, the\n    cure of various diseases, invoking the Immaculate\n    Virgin.\n\n    \"The civil power has been alarmed by this. The\n    ecclesiastical authority has been urged by all parties,\n    since the month of March, to make some declaration\n    concerning this improvised pilgrimage. We have delayed,\n    up to the present time--believing that the hour was\n    not come for us to deal successfully with this matter,\n    and also that, to give due weight to our judgment, it\n    would be necessary to proceed with wise moderation, to\n    distrust the prejudices of the first days of popular\n    enthusiasm, to allow agitation to quiet itself, to\n    give time for reflection, and to procure light for an\n    attentive and clear investigation.\n\n    \"Three classes appeal to our decision, but with\n    different views:\n\n    \"First are those who, refusing all examination, see in\n    the events at the grotto, and in the cures attributed\n    to its water, only superstition, jugglery, and deceit.\n\n    \"It is evident that we cannot, _\u00e0 priori_, share\n    their opinion without serious examination. Their\n    journals have, from the start, cried, and loudly too,\n    superstition, fraud, and bad faith. They have affirmed\n    that the affair of the grotto has had its rise in\n    sordid and guilty cupidity, and have thus wounded\n    the moral sense of our Christian people. The plan of\n    denying everything and of accusing intentions seems\n    to us very convenient for cutting off difficulties;\n    but, on the other hand, very disloyal to sound reason,\n    and more apt to irritate than to convince. To deny\n    the possibility of supernatural facts is to follow a\n    superannuated school, to abjure Christianity, and to\n    proceed in the ruts of the infidel philosophy of the\n    last century. We, as Catholics, cannot take counsel\n    in such a matter with those who deny God's power\n    to make exceptions to his own laws, nor even join\n    them in examining whether a given fact is natural or\n    supernatural, knowing in advance that they proclaim\n    the impossibility of the supernatural. By this, do\n    we shrink from thorough, sincere, and conscientious\n    discussion enlightened by advanced science? By no\n    means. On the contrary, we desire it, with all our\n    heart. We wish these facts to be submitted to the\n    severest tests of evidence compatible with sound\n    philosophy, and, accordingly, to determine whether they\n    are natural or divine, that prudent men, learned in\n    the sciences of mystical theology, medicine, physics,\n    chemistry, geology, etc., etc., be invited to the\n    discussion, in order that science shall be consulted\n    and give her sentence. And we desire, above all, that\n    no means be neglected to ascertain the truth.\n\n    \"Another class neither approve nor condemn the events\n    which are everywhere recounted, but suspend their\n    judgment. Before pronouncing definitely, they wish to\n    know the views of competent authority, and earnestly\n    ask for them.\n\n    \"Finally, a third and very numerous class have become\n    thoroughly, though perhaps prematurely, convinced. They\n    impatiently look to the bishop to pronounce immediately\n    on this grave affair. Although they expect from us a\n    decision favorable to their own pious sentiments, we\n    know their obedient spirit well enough to be assured\n    that they will agree with our judgment, whatever that\n    may be, as soon as it is known.\n\n    \"It is, therefore, to enlighten the piety of so many\n    thousands of the faithful, to correspond with an\n    urgent public appeal to settle the uncertainty and\n    quiet the agitation of souls, that we yield to-day to\n    instances repeated and continued, from all parts. We\n    desire light on facts in the highest degree important\n    to the faithful, the worship of the Blessed Virgin,\n    and religion itself. To this end we have resolved\n    to institute in our diocese a permanent commission\n    for collecting and reporting upon the facts which\n    have occurred, and which may hereafter occur, at or\n    concerning the grotto of Lourdes, in order to make\n    known their character and supply us with the means\n    indispensable to arriving at a true judgment.\n\n\n    \"WHEREFORE,\n\n    \"The holy name of God having been invoked,\n\n    \"We have ordered and hereby order as follows:\n\n    \"Art. I. A commission is hereby instituted in the\n    diocese of Tarbes, to examine the following points:\n\n    \"1. Whether cures have been worked by drinking, or by\n    bathing with the water of the grotto of Lourdes; and\n    whether these cures can be explained naturally or are\n    to be attributed to something above nature.\n\n    \"2. Whether the visions which are said to have been\n    seen by the child Bernadette Soubirous have been real;\n    and, in the latter case, whether they can be explained\n    naturally or are to be invested with a supernatural\n    character.\n\n    \"3. Whether the object which is said to have appeared\n    manifested its intentions to the child; whether she has\n    been charged to communicate them, and to whom; and what\n    were the said intentions or demands.\n\n    \"4. Whether the fountain which is now running in the\n    grotto existed before the alleged visions of Bernadette\n    Soubirous.\n\n    \"Art. II. The commission will present for our\n    consideration only facts established by solid evidence,\n    concerning which it will prepare minute reports\n    containing its own judgment on the matter.\n\n    \"Art. III. The deans of the diocese will be the\n    principal correspondents of the commission.\n\n    \"1. They are desired to call attention to facts which\n    have taken place in their respective deaneries.\n\n    \"2. The persons who are allowed to testify concerning\n    such acts are:\n\n    \"3. Those who, by their science, can enlighten the\n    commission.\n\n    \"4. The physicians who have had charge of the sick\n    before their cure.\n\n    \"Art. IV. After having received notices, the commission\n    will proceed to examination. Evidence must be rendered\n    under oath. When investigations refer to localities,\n    at least two members of the commission must visit the\n    spot.\n\n    \"Art. V. We earnestly recommend the commission to\n    invite to its sessions men well versed in the sciences\n    of medicine, physics, chemistry, geology, etc., in\n    order to hear them discuss the difficulties which may\n    arise on points familiar to them, and in order to learn\n    their opinion. The commission will neglect no means of\n    acquiring light and arriving at the truth, whatever\n    that may be.\n\n    \"Art. VI. The commission shall be composed of nine\n    members of our chapter, the superiors of the great and\n    little seminaries, the superior of the missionaries of\n    our diocese, the cur\u00e9 of Lourdes, and the professors of\n    dogmatic and moral theology and physics of the great\n    seminary. The professor of chemistry in our little\n    seminary shall be often consulted.\n\n    \"Art. VII. M. Nogaro, canon-arch-priest, is hereby\n    named president of the commission. The Canons\n    Tabari\u00e9s and Soul\u00e9 are named vice-presidents. The\n    commission will appoint for itself a secretary and two\n    vice-secretaries from its own number.\n\n    \"Art. VIII. The commission will immediately enter\n    upon its labors, and meet as often as it shall deem\n    necessary.\n\n    \"Given at Tarbes, in our episcopal palace, under our\n    sign and seal, and the countersign of our secretary,\n    July 28, 1858.\n\n                                  \"\u2720 BERTRAND-SRE,\n                                          \"Bishop of Tarbes.\n\n                    \"By command, FOURCADE,\n                                         \"Canon-Secretary.\"\n\nHis lordship had scarcely issued this order when he received a letter\nfrom M. Rouland, Minister of Public Worship, entreating him to\ninterfere and arrest the movement.\n\nIn order to comprehend the full meaning of this letter, it will be\nnecessary for us to turn back a short distance.\n\n\nVII.\n\nWhether the police or administration had incited the false\nvisionaries or were the innocent victims of universal suspicion, it\nis impossible to know with certainty; it is still more impossible\nto establish either opinion by authentic documents. In such cases\nthe proof, if there be any, is always destroyed by interested hands.\nThere are, consequently, no other means of getting at the truth,\nexcept the general appearance of things and the unanimous sentiment\nof the contemporary public, sometimes assuredly just, though often\ntinged by passion or infected with error. In view of this chaotic\nstate of the elements, the historian can only relate facts both\nauthentic and alleged, express his own doubts and scruples, and leave\nthe reader to determine upon the most probable explanation.\n\nWhatever the cause or hidden hand might have been which pushed\nforward two or three little ragamuffins to make seers of them, M.\nJacomet, M. Massy, and his friends felt bound to magnify and spread\ntheir silly story. They endeavored to attract the attention of\nthe people, and withdraw it from such grave events as the divine\necstasies of Bernadette, the bursting forth of the fountain, and\nthe miraculous cures which had laid hold of popular faith. When the\nbattle had been lost on one point, these able strategists sought to\nlure the enemy on to a field surrounded by ambuscades and mined in\nadvance; in short, to make a diversion.\n\nThe sudden disappearance of the false visions and visionaries before\nthe threatened scrutiny of M. Peyramale upset, for several days at\nleast, the fond hopes of the free-thinking strategists. The common\nsense of the public remained firm on the true ground of controversy,\nand did not permit itself to be deceived. The enlightened intellect\nof Minister Rouland did not fare so well. What follows will explain\nhow this independent spirit was overthrown.\n\nMM. Jacomet and Massy were striving against a triumphant and\nirresistible force, and taxed the utmost resources of their genius to\nmake out of these slight events a final pretext for repairing their\nlosses and reassuming an offensive part. They sent to the Minister of\nPublic Worship an exaggerated and fantastic account of these childish\nscenes.\n\nNow, by an illusion barely conceivable in a politician acquainted\nwith ordinary practice, M. Rouland placed blind confidence in their\nofficial reports. He was not without faith, although injudicious,\none may say, in selecting the object of his trust. The philosopher\nRouland had no faith in Our Lady of Lourdes asserting herself by\ncures and miracles, but he had perfect faith in Massy and Jacomet.\nThese two gentlemen made him believe that, under the shadow of the\nMassabielle rocks, children officiated as priests, that the people,\nrepresented by creatures of dishonest life, crowned them with laurels\nand flowers, etc., etc.\n\nThey did not disguise the uselessness of violent measures against the\ngeneral excitement of spirits. According to their account, material\nforce was vanquished and the civil authority completely brought to\nnaught. The religious authority alone could save the day by energetic\naction against the popular belief. Desperate as to their own straits,\nand little considering the dignity of a Christian bishop, they\npresumed to think that strong pressure from the upper heights of\nthe administration could force Mgr. Laurence to condemn what had\ntranspired and to follow their views. Accordingly they signified to\nthe minister their judgment that the solution of all difficulties\nwould be the direct interference of the prelate.\n\nThis was to push his excellency in the direction towards which, as is\nwell known, he naturally inclined, viz., to mix himself in religious\nquestions, and to foster the desire of making out a programme for the\nbishops.\n\nThe minister, although he had once been _procureur-general_, did not\nthink of asking how it was that the police had not prosecuted in the\ncourts the profanations which they reported. The strange abstinence\nof the magistracy in view of the pretended disorders did not occasion\nhim the slightest suspicion.\n\nAccepting with more than ministerial candor the romance of the police\nand the prefect, and imagining that he saw the whole truth; moreover,\nbelieving himself nothing less than a theologian, and, because\nMinister of Public Worship, something more than an archbishop, M.\nRouland settled the whole affair in his cabinet, and wrote to Mgr.\nLaurence a letter, in all respects a worthy mate of the one he had\nformerly addressed to the prefect, and which we have cited. It was\nstrongly impregnated with the same official piety, and whilst we read\nit to-day by the light of true history, we cannot restrain a smile\nat the manner in which rulers are sometimes hoodwinked and mocked by\ntheir inferior agents. Indeed, it is not without a sad irony that\none sees the following letter written by the very minister who, in\na short time, was to sign the permission to build a splendid church\non the Massabielle rocks in eternal memory of the apparition of the\nBlessed Virgin Mary:\n\n    \"My lord,\" wrote M. Rouland, \"the recent advice which\n    I have received about that affair at Lourdes seems\n    to me calculated to afflict deeply the hearts of all\n    sincerely religious men. This blessing of rosaries by\n    children, these public demonstrations in the first\n    ranks of which are to be seen women of doubtful\n    character, this coronation of the visionaries, and\n    other grotesque ceremonies which parody the rites of\n    religious worship, will not fail to open a free avenue\n    of attack to Protestant and other journals, unless the\n    central authority interferes to moderate the ardor of\n    polemics. Such scandalous scenes degrade religion in\n    the eyes of the people, and I feel it my duty again\n    to call your most serious attention to them.... These\n    deeply to be regretted demonstrations seem to me of\n    such a character as to summon the clergy from the\n    reserve which it has hitherto maintained. On this point\n    I can do no more than to make a pressing appeal to\n    the prudence and firmness of your grace _by demanding\n    if you do not think it proper to rebuke publicly such\n    profanity_. Receive, etc.,\n\n      The Minister of Public Instruction and Worship,\n\n                                                  \"ROULAND.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\nThis missive reached Mgr. Laurence just after he had issued the\nordinance already known to the reader, and had appointed a commission\nto examine the extraordinary works wrought by the hand of God.\n\nAlthough singularly astonished and indignant at the fantastic\naccount so gravely offered by the good minister as the truth itself,\nnevertheless, the bishop answered his letter in measured terms.\nWithout expressing a complete judgment, in order not to hasten a\npremature solution of the matter, he rehabilitated the facts which\nhad been so shamefully misrepresented. He set forth with great\nfrankness the line of conduct which he and his clergy had pursued,\nuntil events had got to such a pass that it was necessary to\ninterfere and order a commission of inquiry. To the minister, who,\nwithout knowledge or examination, had said, \"Condemn,\" he answered,\n\"I will examine.\"\n\n    \"Monsieur le Ministre,\" wrote the prelate, \"great was\n    my amazement on reading your letter. I also am informed\n    as to what takes place at Lourdes, and, as a bishop,\n    deeply interested in reproving all that can harm\n    religion and the faithful. Now, I can assure you that\n    no such scenes as you describe exist, and, if there\n    have been any occurrences worthy of regret, they have\n    been transitory and have left no traces behind them.\n\n    \"The facts to which your excellency alludes transpired\n    after the grotto was shut up, and after the first week\n    in July. Two or three children of Lourdes pretended to\n    have visions, and behaved extravagantly in the streets.\n    The grotto being then shut up, as I have said, they\n    found means to get into it, and to offer their services\n    to visitors stopped at the barricades, in order to\n    touch their chaplets on the rock inside the grotto, and\n    to appropriate the offerings received from them. One of\n    them who was most remarkable for his eccentricities was\n    a choir-boy in the church of Lourdes. The cur\u00e9 rebuked\n    and drove him out of the _catechisme_, and excluded him\n    from the service of the church.[101] The disorder was\n    only transitory, and amounted only to the mischief of a\n    few boys, which ceased as soon as it was reprehended.\n    Such are the facts which _overzealous_ persons have\n    magnified into permanent scenes.\n\n    \"I would be much gratified, M. le Ministre, if you\n    would seek a fair statement of what has occurred from\n    honorable persons who have remained here for some time\n    in order to make personal observations of places, and\n    to interrogate the child who is said to have had the\n    vision. Such are Mgrs. the bishops of Montpellier\n    and Soissons, Mgr. the Archbishop of Auch, M. V\u00e8ne,\n    inspector of thermal waters, Madame l'Amirale Bruat, M.\n    L. Veuillot, etc., etc.\n\n    \"The clergy, M. le Ministre, have up to this time\n    maintained a complete reserve with regard to the\n    occurrences at the grotto. The clergy of the town\n    have shown a most admirable prudence. They have never\n    gone to the grotto to give credit to the pilgrimage,\n    nor, on the other hand, favored the measures of\n    the administration. Nevertheless, they have been\n    represented to you as encouraging superstition. I do\n    not accuse the head magistrate of the department,\n    whose intentions have always been good; but in this\n    matter he has had an exclusive confidence in his\n    subordinates.\n\n    \"In my reply to the prefect, dated 11th of last April,\n    which has been submitted to your perusal, I offered\n    my hearty concurrence with the magistrate in order to\n    bring this affair to a happy conclusion. But I have\n    not been able to do what was desired of me, namely, to\n    condemn from the pulpit, without examination, inquiry,\n    or apparent reason, the persons who go to pray at the\n    grotto, and to forbid all approach to it, especially\n    when no disorder had been noticed, although on certain\n    days the visitors amounted to thousands. Moreover,\n    while the church has always some motive for her\n    prohibitions, and while I myself was not sufficiently\n    posted as to facts, I was also certain that amid the\n    general excitement my words would have passed unheeded.\n\n    \"The prefect, during the council of revision at\n    Lourdes, on May 4th, caused the chief of police to\n    remove the religious emblems left at the grotto, and,\n    in an address to the mayors of the canton, stated\n    that he had taken this measure by agreement with the\n    diocesan bishop, an assertion which was repeated a few\n    days afterward by the official organ of the prefecture.\n    I was informed of this measure only by the journals and\n    the cur\u00e9 of Lourdes.\n\n    \"I hastened to write to the latter to cause the\n    prefect's order to be respected. I made no complaint\n    at that time or afterward of having been made an\n    apparent party to a measure of which I had been left in\n    ignorance. Although numerous letters were addressed to\n    me entreating me to disclaim any share in it, I have\n    refrained from adding any difficulty to the situation.\n\n    \"After the religious objects had been removed from\n    the grotto, we might have hoped to see the number of\n    visits diminish, and the pilgrimage, so inconsiderately\n    improvised, brought to an end. It was not so, however.\n    The public rightly or wrongly pretended that the\n    water from the grotto worked marvellous cures. The\n    concourse became more numerous, and crowds came from\n    the neighboring departments.\n\n    \"On the 8th of June, the mayor of Lourdes issued a\n    prohibition forbidding all access to the grotto. This\n    was stated to be in the interest of religion and\n    public welfare. Although religion might have been\n    encouraged by it; and, again, although the bishop had\n    not been consulted, he published no reclamation against\n    these assertions; he kept silence for reasons above\n    stated.\n\n    \"You see, M. le Ministre, by these details, that the\n    reserve of the clergy has not been complete in this\n    matter; it has been, in my judgment, prudent. When\n    able, I have lent my aid to the measures of the civil\n    authority, and, if they have not met with success, it\n    is not the bishop who is to blame.\n\n    \"To-day, yielding to the petitions which have been\n    addressed me from all quarters, I have concluded that\n    the time has come when I can interest myself to good\n    purpose in this affair. I have named a commission\n    to collect the elements necessary for me to form a\n    decision on a question which has moved the whole\n    country around us, and which, judging from reports,\n    seems likely to interest the whole of France. I am\n    confident that the faithful will receive it with\n    submission, since they are aware that no effort will be\n    spared to get at the truth. The commission having been\n    at work for some days, I have determined to render my\n    ordinance public by having it printed, in hopes that it\n    may help to calm spirits until the decision shall have\n    been made known. I shall soon have the honor of sending\n    your excellency a copy.\n\n                  \"I am, etc.,\n\n                                  \"B. S., Bishop of Tarbes.\"\n\nSuch was the letter from Mgr. Laurence to M. Rouland. It was clear\nand decisive, and left nothing to be said by either party. The\nMinister of Public Worship did not reply. He re-entered his former\nsilence. This was very wise. Perhaps, however, it would have been\nwiser for him never to have come out of it.\n\n\nIX.\n\nAt the very moment when Mgr. Laurence, in the name of religion,\nordered an inquiry into the unwonted events which the civil authority\nhad condemned and persecuted and wished to reject _\u00e0 priori_,\nwithout condescending even to examine; on the very same day on\nwhich the bishop's letter was mailed for the minister, M. Filhol,\nthe illustrious professor of the faculty of Toulouse, delivered the\nfinal verdict of science on the water from the grotto of Lourdes.\nThe conscientious and perfectly thorough labor of the great chemist\nreduced to nothing the official analysis of M. Latour de Trie, the\nexpert of the prefecture, about which Baron Massy had made such a\nnoise. M. Filhol testifies as follows:\n\n\"I, the undersigned, Professor of Chemistry to the Scientific Faculty\nof Toulouse, Professor of Pharmacy and Toxicology to the School of\nMedicine of the same city, and Knight of the Legion of Honor, certify\nthat I have analyzed the water from a spring in the neighborhood of\nLourdes. From this analysis it appears that the water of the grotto\nof Lourdes is of such composition that it may be considered good\nfor drinking purposes, and of a character similar to that which\nis generally met with among those mountains whose soil is rich in\ncalcareous matter.\n\n\"_The extraordinary effects which are said to have been produced\nby the use of this water cannot, at least in the present state of\nscience, be explained by the nature of the salts whose existence in\nit is detected by analysis._[102]\n\n\"_This water contains no active substance capable of giving it marked\ntherapeutic qualities._ It can be drunk without inconvenience.\n\n      \"TOULOUSE, August 7, 1858.\n\n                                     \"(Signed) FILHOL.\"[103]\n\nThus, all the pseudo-scientific scaffolding, on which the\nfree-thinkers and wise counsellors of the prefect had painfully\nbuilt their theory of the extraordinary cures, on the examination of\nthis celebrated chemist toppled and fell. According to true science,\nthe water of the grotto was by no means mineral water, and had no\nhealing property. Nevertheless, it did heal. Nothing was now left for\nthose who had so rashly put forward imaginary explanations, but the\nconfusion of their attempt and the impossibility of withdrawing their\npublic acknowledgment that cures had been effected. Falsehood and\nerror were taken in their own net.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[100] We find in a letter of Dr. Dozous, who had followed closely the\ncourse of events, a list of the various chronic maladies of which he\ntestifies the extraordinary cure by the water of the grotto.\n\n\"Continual headache; weakness of sight; amaurosis; chronic neuralgia;\npartial and general paralysis; chronic rheumatism; partial or general\ndebility of the system; debility of early childhood. In these cases\nthe healing action was so sudden, that many who had not previously\nbelieved in the reality of such cures were forced to accept them as\nreal and incontestable.\n\n\"Diseases of the spine; leucorrhea, and other diseases of women;\nchronic maladies of the digestive organs; obstructions of the liver,\nand bile.\n\n\"Sore-throat; deafness from feebleness of the auricular nerves,\"\netc., etc.\n\n[101] Every one will understand the reserve which prevents the bishop\nfrom mentioning the universal suspicion at Lourdes, Cauterets,\nBar\u00e8ges, and Tarbes, of the secret action of the police in the affair\nof the visionaries.\n\nIt would have been somewhat difficult for the prelate to say to the\nminister: \"The pretended scandal, which you lament and magnify out of\nall natural proportion to the point of making it a pure romance, is\nnothing more nor less than yourself in the persons of your agents.\"\n\n[102] Letter from M. Filhol to the Mayor of Lourdes, transmitting his\nanalysis.\n\n[103] We give complete details of the analysis contained in the\nreport of M. Filhol. The eminent chemist continues:\n\nI certify to having obtained the following results:\n\n    PHYSICAL AND ORGANOLEPTIC PROPERTIES OF THIS WATER.\n\n    It is clear, colorless, odorless: it has no decided\n    taste. Its density is scarcely greater than that of\n    distilled water.\n\n    CHEMICAL PROPERTIES.\n\n    The water of the grotto of Lourdes acts as follows,\n    with reagents:\n\n    With _Red Tincture of Turnsol_.--It becomes blue.\n\n    _Lime-water._--The mixture becomes milky; an excess of\n    the water of grotto redissolves the precipitate first\n    formed.\n\n    _Soapsuds._--It becomes very cloudy.\n\n    _Chloride of Barium._--No apparent action.\n\n    _Nitrate of Silver._--Slight white precipitate, which\n    partly dissolves in nitric acid.\n\n    _Oxalate of Ammonia._--Scarcely any sensible action.\n\n    Submitted to the action of heat in a glass retort\n    communicating with a receiver, the water yielded a\n    gas partly absorbed by potassa. The portion thus left\n    undissolved was partly absorbed by phosphorus; finally,\n    there remained a gaseous residuum possessing all the\n    properties of nitrogen. At the same time that this gas\n    was disengaged, the water was slightly clouded and\n    precipitated a white deposit, slightly tinged with\n    red. Treated with hydrochloric acid, this deposit was\n    dissolved, producing a lively effervescence.\n\n    I saturated the acid solution with an excess of\n    ammonia; this reagent caused the precipitation of\n    several light flakes of a reddish color, which I\n    carefully separated. These flakes washed with distilled\n    water I treated with caustic potash, which took nothing\n    from them. I washed the flakes again, and dissolved\n    them in chlorhydric acid; then I further diluted the\n    solution with water, and submitted it to the action\n    of several reagents, whose effects I will proceed to\n    indicate:\n\n    _Yellow Cyanide of Potassium and Iron._--Blue\n    precipitate.\n\n    _Ammonia._--Reddish brown precipitate.\n\n    _Tannin._--Principally black.\n\n    _Sulpho-Cyanide of Potassium._--Blood-red color.\n\n    The liquid, separated from the flaky deposit, gave\n    with oxalate of ammonia an abundant white precipitate.\n    Having separated this precipitate by a filter, I\n    threw phosphate of ammonia into the clear liquid;\n    this reagent determined the formation of a new white\n    precipitate.\n\n    I evaporated to dryness five litres of the water,\n    and treated the dry residuum with a small quantity\n    of distilled water in order to dissolve the soluble\n    salts. The solution thus obtained was turned blue\n    by red tincture of turnsol. I again evaporated the\n    solution thus obtained, and poured alcohol over the dry\n    residuum; this being set on fire, gave a pale yellow\n    flame, such as is produced by salts of soda. I again\n    dissolved the residuum in a few drops of distilled\n    water, and mixed the solution with chloride of platina;\n    a slight canary-colored precipitate was formed in the\n    mixture.\n\n    Having acidulated two _litres_ of the water of the\n    grotto of Lourdes with chlorhydric acid, I evaporated\n    it to dryness, and found the residuum taken by the\n    acidulated water to be but partly dissolved. The\n    insoluble part presented all the appearance of silica.\n\n    I submitted to evaporation ten _litres_ of the water\n    of the grotto of Lourdes, in which I found a very pure\n    carbonate of potassa had been previously dissolved. The\n    result of the evaporation was moistened with boiling\n    alcohol, and, again evaporated to dryness, the residuum\n    was heated to a dull red.\n\n    The product of this operation was dissolved, after\n    cooling, in a few drops of distilled water, and mixed\n    with a little starch paste. Carefully treating this\n    mixture with weakly chlorated water, I saw the liquid\n    take a blue tint.\n\n    Submitted to distillation, the water of the grotto of\n    Lourdes gives a slightly alkaline distilled product.\n\n    From these facts it follows that the water of the\n    grotto of Lourdes holds in solution:\n\n    1. Oxygen.\n\n    2. Nitrogen.\n\n    3. Carbonic acid.\n\n    4. Carbonates of lime, of magnesia, and a trace of\n    carbonate of iron.\n\n    5. An alkaline carbonate or silicate, chlorides of\n    potassium and sodium.\n\n    6. Traces of sulphates of potassa and soda.\n\n    7. Traces of ammonia.\n\n    8. Traces of iodine.\n\n    The quantitative analysis of this water, made according\n    to the ordinary methods, gives the following results:\n\n      Water, 1 kilogramme.\n\n                                                 Centig.\n      Carbonic acid                                 8\n      Oxygen                                        5\n      Nitrogen                                     17\n      Ammonia                          traces.\n\n                                             Gr. millig.\n      Carbonate of Lime                          .096\n        \"          Magnesia                     0.012\n        \"          Iron                traces.\n        \"          Soda                   \"\n      Chloride of Sodium                        0.008\n       \"          Potassium            traces.\n      Silicate of Soda, and traces of Silicate\n      of Potassa                                0.018\n      Sulphates of Potassa and Soda, traces.\n      Iodine                           \"\n                                                -----\n                                                0.134\n\n\n\n\nKING CORMAC'S CHOICE.[104]\n\nA LEGEND OF THE BOYNE.\n\n\n      Beside the banks of Boyne, where late\n        The dire Dutch trumpets blared and rang,\n      'Mid wounded kernes the harper sate,\n        And thus the river's legend sang:\n\n      Who shall forbid a king to lie\n        Where lie he will, when life is o'er?\n      King Cormac laid him down to die;\n        But first he raised his hand, and swore:\n\n      \"At Brugh ye shall not lay my bones:\n        Those pagan kings I scorn to join\n      Beside the trembling Druid stones,\n        And on the north bank of the Boyne.\n\n      \"A grassy grave of poor degree\n        Upon its southern bank be mine\n      At Rossnaree, where of things to be\n        I saw in vision the pledge and sign.\n\n      \"Thou happier Faith, that from the East\n        Slow travellest, set my people free!\n      I sleep, thy Prophet and thy Priest,\n        By southern Boyne, at Rossnaree.\"\n\n      He died: anon from hill and wood\n        Down flocked the black-robed Druid race,\n      And round the darkened palace stood,\n        And cursed the dead king to his face.\n\n      Uptowering round his bed, with lips\n        Denouncing doom, and cheeks death-pale,\n      As when at noontide strange eclipse\n        Invests gray cliffs and shadowed vale;\n\n      And proved with cymball'd anthems dread\n        The gods he spurned had bade him die:\n      Then spake the pagan chiefs, and said,\n        \"Where lie our kings, this king must lie.\"\n\n      In royal robes the corse they dressed,\n        And spread the bier with boughs of yew;\n      And chose twelve men, their first and best,\n        To bear him through the Boyne to Brugh.\n\n      But on his bier the great dead king\n        Forgot not so his kingly oath;\n      And from sea-marge to mountain spring,\n        Boyne heard their coming, and was wroth.\n\n      He frowned far off, 'mid gorse and fern,\n        As those ill-omened steps made way;\n      He muttered 'neath the flying hern;\n        He foamed by cairn and cromlech gray;\n\n      And rose, and drowned with one black wave\n        Those twelve on-wading; and with glee\n      Bore down King Cormac to his grave\n        By southern Boyne, at Rossnaree!\n\n      Close by that grave, three centuries past,\n        Columba reared his saintly cell;\n      And Boyne's rough voice was changed at last\n        To music by the Christian bell.\n\n      So Christ's true Faith made Erin free,\n        And blessed her women and her men;\n      And that which was again shall be,\n        And that which died shall rise again.\n\n      He ceased: the wondering clansmen roared\n        Accordance to the quivering strings,\n      And praised King Cormac, Erin's Lord,\n        And Prophet of the King of kings.\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[104] According to the old Irish chronicles, Cormac, King of all\nIreland, renounced the worship of idols about two centuries before\nthe arrival of St. Patrick, having received in a vision the promise\nof the true faith.\n\n\n\n\nTHE APOSTASY OF DR. D\u00d6LLINGER.\n\n\nThe formal and public act of renunciation of the Catholic faith by\nDr. D\u00f6llinger which has been looked for as a probable event for\nmany months past, has at length been made. In itself, such an act\ncannot be regarded by any sound Catholic as of any moment whatever to\nreligion or the church. It is only one suicide more, which destroys\nan individual, but does not hurt the stability of the church, whose\nlife is in God, and, therefore, immortal. It may have more or less\nof accidental importance, however, on account of its effect upon\ncertain persons who are weak or ill-instructed in the faith, and the\nuse which may be made of it by the enemies of the church. We think it\nproper, therefore, to make some explanations concerning the past and\npresent acts and opinions by which Dr. D\u00f6llinger has gradually but\nsurely approached and finally reached his present position of open,\ndeclared rebellion against the infallible authority of the Catholic\nChurch.\n\nDr. D\u00f6llinger has been living, until a recent period, upon the\nreputation which he had acquired during his earlier career as a\nprofessor and an author, supported by his high rank in the church\nas a mitred prelate, and in the state as a member of the Bavarian\nHouse of Peers. His great intellectual gifts and extensive learning\nin the department of history have never been questioned, and he was\ndeservedly honored through a long course of years as one of the chief\nornaments and ablest advocates of the Catholic religion in Germany.\nThe relative superiority very commonly assigned to him, however, we\nare inclined to think, is only imaginary. Even in history he has met\nwith some very severe defeats from antagonists more powerful than\nhimself, and in philosophy and theology he has never shown himself to\nbe a master. He is now an old man, seventy-three years of age, having\nspent above forty years of this period in his professorial chair at\nthe University of Munich. During the earlier part of his life, as\nis proved by unimpeachable testimony, he was a strict Ultramontane\nin his theology. The gradual progress by which he went slowly down\nthe declivity towards his present position we cannot pretend to\ntrace accurately. It is certain, however, that no public expression\nof opinions having a heterodox tendency, on his part, excited any\ngeneral notice before the year 1861. Even then, although the murmur\nof dissatisfaction which has been growing louder ever since began to\nbe heard, and the sure Catholic instinct began to make its wounded\nsusceptibilities known, the substantial orthodoxy and loyalty of Dr.\nD\u00f6llinger were not questioned or even doubted. This is proved by the\nlanguage used by the editor of _Der Katholik_ at that time, in which\nhe says that the book which had given offence, namely, the celebrated\n\"Church and Churches,\" \"is imbued with the genuine color of sincere\nCatholic faith and immovable fidelity to the church _and her supreme\nhead_.\"[105] From that date to the present time, these first\nindistinct intimations of what now appears as a full-blown heresy\ncan be seen in their successive stages of clearer manifestation in\nthe writings and acts of Dr. D\u00f6llinger. The language used by him\nis ambiguous, and generally capable of being understood in a good\nsense, and his steps are cautious. There is nothing to compromise him\nseriously, before the time of the intrigues which went on under his\ndirection for the purpose of defeating the Vatican Council. Looking\nback, however, upon the dark ways in which he has been walking, and\nthe dark sayings which he has been uttering, in the light which his\npresent open declaration of rebellion casts behind him, everything\nbecomes clear and apparent to the day. There is a continuity and\na logical sequence manifest in those ambiguous utterances, when\nexplained in a schismatical and heretical sense, which they otherwise\ncould not have. The acts and expressions of Dr. D\u00f6llinger's disciples\nin Germany, France, and England appear in their coherence and in\ntheir relation to the instruction which they received from their\nmaster. Moreover, a series of historical facts, in connection with\nthe University of Munich and with Dr. D\u00f6llinger himself, show\nthemselves in their proper bearing; and among other things of this\nkind, the secret end and object of the famous scientific congress\nof Munich become perfectly manifest. In a word, Dr. D\u00f6llinger has\nhad an idea which has gradually supplanted the Catholic idea in his\nmind, and for the sake of which he has at last sacrificed the last\nlingering remnant of honor, conscience, loyalty, and divine grace in\nhis soul, and stooped so low as to write his name at the bottom of\nthat long and infamous list of traitors and heretics against whom\nnone have ever pronounced sterner sentence of condemnation than\nhimself. This great idea has been nothing less than the reunion of\nChristendom on a basis of compromise between the Catholic Church and\nthe Eastern and Western sects, excluding the supremacy of the Roman\nChurch and Pontiff. This is no new idea of D\u00f6llinger's. The only\nthing which was new and original in it was the particular scheme or\nplan of operation for carrying it into effect. Even this was not\noriginated by D\u00f6llinger himself, but first planted in the mind of\nMaximilian II., King of Bavaria, during his youth, by Schelling. When\nthis able and enterprising prince ascended the throne, he undertook\nthe extraordinary task of effecting a universal intellectual and\nmoral unification of Germany, of which Munich should be the radiating\ncentre. The union of the different religious confessions formed a\nprincipal part of this plan. Moreover, Germany was to become the\nmighty power, after being united in herself, to bring all the rest\nof Christendom into unity in a perfect Christian civilization, which\nwould then extend itself triumphantly through the rest of the world.\nThe great lever by which this mighty work was to be accomplished\nwas to be a society of learned men and able statesmen, directed by\nthe sovereign authority of the king himself. The gathering point\nfor these learned men was naturally the University of Munich, and\nfrom the chairs of this university would proceed that teaching and\ninfluence which should train up a body of disciples ready to sustain\nand carry out in their various professions and posts of influence\nthe grand project conceived in the philosophic brain of Schelling\nand eagerly adopted by his royal pupil. As a matter of course, those\nprofessors of the university who were thoroughly loyal to Rome must\neither submit to the royal dictation or be removed. Phillipps and\nseveral other distinguished professors sacrificed their places to\ntheir conscience. D\u00f6llinger submitted. This was the fatal rock on\nwhich he split, the one which has caused injury or total shipwreck\nin every age of the church to so many eminent ecclesiastics. It was\nnecessary to choose between unconditional loyalty to the spiritual\nsovereignty of the Pope, or subserviency to the usurpation of the\ntemporal prince. This was the real question from the outset, and\nhence Dr. D\u00f6llinger's utter abjuration of the Papal supremacy is but\nthe last logical consequence of this weak yielding at the beginning.\nBossuet yielded to Louis XIV. in a similar manner. But Bossuet was a\nthoroughgoing theologian, priest, and bishop. He yielded against the\ngrain, and his heart was always Roman and on the side of the Pope.\nTherefore Bossuet only marred but did not destroy his character and\nwork as a great bishop and a great writer. His Gallicanism is only\na single flaw in a majestic statue. But in the case of D\u00f6llinger,\nthe German, the ambitious scholar, the courtier has predominated\nover and finally cast out entirely the Catholic, the theologian,\nand the priest. He has not been a passive tool, but a most active\nand energetic master-workman in carrying out the plan of Schelling\nand Maximilian. Nevertheless, he has been cautious, secret, and\nindirect in his method of working, not attacking openly, but\nartfully undermining the citadel of the faith, throwing out hints\nand scattering seeds which he left to germinate in other minds, in\nhis published works, and chiefly intent upon privately initiating\ncertain chosen persons into his doctrines. In this way, a subtle and\ndeadly poison has long been spreading its baleful influence among a\ncertain class of intellectual Catholic young men not only in Germany,\nbut also in France and England. Thank God! this secret poisoning by\nconcealed heresy has been stopped. The poison is now openly exposed\nto view, and advertised as a pleasant refrigerant or gentle purgative\nmedicine, but is likely to deceive no one who is in good faith, for\nits color, taste, and smell betray it; and whoever has made his head\ndizzy for awhile by hastily swallowing a few drops by mistake is\nlikely to be trebly cautious for the future.\n\nWe have already described in general terms the Munich heresy, but we\nwill make a more precise and analytical statement of its principal\ncomponent elements. As we have already said, it proposes certain\nprinciples and methods for the reconstruction of Christendom. First,\nthe Catholic Church must be reformed in doctrine and discipline.\nThe \u0152cumenical Councils as far back as the Seventh are to be set\naside. The authority of any \u0152cumenical Council is only final in\nso far as it is a witness of the traditional belief of the whole\nbody of the faithful. The authority of the decisions of the Holy\nSee must be set aside, and the supremacy of the Sovereign Pontiff\nbe reduced to a mere patriarchal primacy. The state is completely\nsupreme and independent. Sacred and secular science are exempt from\nall control except that of the dogmas of faith. When the Catholic\nChurch is purified in doctrine and discipline, the other portions of\nChristendom are to be united with it in one grand whole, combining\nall that is good in each one of them, and itself more perfect than\nany. The supreme and ultimate judgment in regard to religious\ndogmas is in the universal Christian sentiment or consciousness,\nenlightened and directed by men of science and learning.\n\nTo certain minds, there is something specious and high-sounding about\nthis theory. It is, however, a mere Russian ice palace, which melts\nwhen the direct rays of the sun fall upon it. It is essentially\nno better than the doctrine of Huss and Luther. It is very nearly\nidentical with that of Dr. Pusey. It is old Protestantism revamped,\nand varnished with a mixture of rationalism and orientalism. The\nsupreme authority of the Holy See being set aside, and the decrees\nof general councils submitted to the judgment of the great body of\nthe clergy and people, where is the rule of faith? Pure Protestantism\ngives us, in lieu of the infallible teaching authority of the\nliving church, the Bible, interpreted by the private judgment of\neach individual. The Munich theory gives us the Bible and apostolic\ntradition, interpreted by the public judgment of the aggregate\nmass of the faithful. But how is the individual to determine what\nthat judgment is? The historical and other documents by which the\ncommon and universal tradition of all ages can be ascertained are\nvoluminous. Moreover, it is a matter of controversy how these\ndocuments are to be understood. Only the learned can fully master and\nunderstand them. The common people must, therefore, be instructed\nby the learned. But the learned do not agree among themselves.\nWhat, then, is left for the individual, except a choice among these\nlearned doctors or among several schools of doctors which one he will\nfollow? This choice must be made by his private judgment, and, if\nnot a blind following of a leader or a party, it must be made by a\ncareful examination of the evidences proving that this or that man,\nDr. D\u00f6llinger, for example, thoroughly understands the Scripture,\nthe Fathers, and ecclesiastical history, and truly interprets them.\nIs there any hope of unity by such a method? Is there any hope of\nany individual, even, arriving at certainty by it? It is a return\nat last to the old Protestant principle of private judgment, with a\nsubstitution of something far more difficult than the Bible in place\nof the Bible which Luther substituted for the church.\n\nPractically it amounts to this: Dr. D\u00f6llinger is the greatest and\nwisest of men; he knows all things. Take his word that so much and\nno more is the sound orthodox doctrine handed down from the apostles\nand believed in all ages, and you are right. Let the Pope and the\nbishops and the whole world believe and obey Dr. D\u00f6llinger. It is\nLuther's old saying repeated by a man of less strength and audacity,\nbut equally absurd and insupportable pride. _Sic voleo, sic jubeo:\nstet pro ratione voluntas._[106] Pius IX. and the bishops in the\nVatican Council, so far from complying with the modest desires of Dr.\nD\u00f6llinger, have condemned the very radical idea of his heresy, and\nall other heresies cognate with it, have crushed his conspiracy, and\nblown away into thin air the painted bubble of a reformed Catholic\nChurch, and a reunion of Christendom on a basis of compromise.\nThere was no alternative for Dr. D\u00f6llinger and his partisans except\nsubmission to the decrees of the council, or to the anathema by which\nthey were fortified. Ample time for reflection and deliberation was\nallowed him, and now, seven months after the solemn promulgation of\nthe decrees of the Council of the Vatican, he has deliberately and\ncoolly refused submission, thereby openly and manifestly cutting\nhimself off from the communion of the Catholic Church. His manner of\ndoing it is a signal illustration of the ridiculous attitude which\na man of sense is often driven to assume when he has given himself\nup to the sway of pride. He desires the Archbishop of Munich to\npermit him to be heard in his own defence before a council of German\nbishops, or a court formed from the Cathedral Chapter. If this is\nto be considered as an appeal from the Council of the Vatican to\nanother tribunal, whose decision he is willing to submit to as final,\nnothing can be more absurd. An appeal from the supreme tribunal to\nan inferior court is certainly something unheard of either in civil\nor canon law. The dogmas denied and rejected by Dr. D\u00f6llinger have\nbeen thoroughly examined and discussed in a general council. Judgment\nhas been pronounced, and the case is closed for ever. The Archbishop\nof Munich and the German prelates are bound by this judgment, have\nassented to it, and have proclaimed it to their subjects. They have\nno authority to bring it under a new examination, or reverse it,\nin a judicial capacity. If they sit in judgment on Dr. D\u00f6llinger,\nor any other individual impeached of heresy, that judgment is\ntheir paramount law, according to which they must decide. The only\nquestions which can come before them in such a case are, whether the\nperson who is a defendant before their court has contravened the\ndecisions of the Vatican Council by word or writing, and whether he\nis contumacious in his error. It can scarcely be supposed that a man\nwho refuses submission to a general council and the Holy See could\nhave any intention or disposition to submit to a national council\nor an episcopal court. The only alternative supposition is that he\ndesired to prolong the controversy, to gain time, to inflame the\nminds of men, to create a party and inaugurate a schism. Really and\ntruly, his demand amounts to this: \"The majority of the bishops\nof the Catholic Church, having been misled by their theological\ninstruction, have made an erroneous decision in a matter of dogma. I\ntherefore request the bishops of Germany to permit me to give them\nbetter instruction, and persuade them to recall their adhesion to\nthat decision. If that cannot be done, I request the Archbishop of\nMunich to do me that favor.\" The silliness of such a demand is only\nequalled by its effrontery. Dr. D\u00f6llinger must be very far gone\nindeed in pride to fancy that the Archbishop of Munich or the German\nprelates could think for an instant of making themselves his docile\ndisciples, or entertain the thought of following him into schism and\nheresy. It is an act of parting defiance, the impotent gesture of a\ndesperate man, whose last stronghold is crumbling under his feet, but\nwho prefers to be buried under its ruins rather than to repent and\nreturn to his allegiance.\n\nThe appeal to German national sympathy and prejudice is worthy of\na man whose worldly and selfish ambition has extinguished the last\nspark of genuine Catholic feeling in his bosom. It is a cry for\nsympathy to the bad Catholics, the Protestants, and the infidels of\nGermany. It is a repetition of that old saying of Caiphas against\nJesus Christ, \"The Romans will come and take away our place and\nnation.\" Nothing can be more unhistorical than the assertion that\nPapal supremacy wrought division in the past German Empire, or\nmore contrary to sound political wisdom than the assertion that\nthe same threatens division in the German Empire of the present.\nMartin Luther sowed the dragon's teeth from which sprang civil war,\ndisastrous foreign war, internal dissension, and all the direful\nmiseries which have come upon Germany since his inauspicious\nrebellion against the Holy See. The so-called Reformation turned the\nProtestant princes against the Emperor, stirred up the revolt of the\npeasants, inspired the treachery which opened the gates to Gustavus\nVasa, and instigated that alliance with Louis XIV. which lost\nLorraine and Alsace to Germany. That infidel liberalism which is the\nlegitimate offspring of the revolt against Rome is the most dangerous\ninternal enemy which the present empire has to fear. It is summed up\nin the list of errors condemned by Pius IX. in his Encyclical and\nSyllabus. On the contrary, the complete restoration of Catholic unity\nand Papal supremacy in Germany would bring back more than the glories\nof the former empire, and renew the epoch of Charlemagne.\n\nAs for the vain and feeble effort of two or three cabinets to\nprohibit the promulgation of the decrees of the Vatican Council, it\nis too absurd to argue about, and too harmless to excite any alarm\nor indignation. Neither is there any danger that Dr. D\u00f6llinger's\napostasy will cause any serious defection among the Catholic people\nof Germany. The professors of the University of Munich have been\nappointed by the king. Some are Protestants, others are infidels,\nand others have been hitherto Catholics in profession, but followers\nof the heresy of Janus in their heart. There are many laymen and\nsome clergymen of the same sort among the professors of Germany,\nand a certain number of persons in other walks of life, whose\nfaith has been undermined and corrupted. We have always expected\nthat the Council of the Vatican would cause a considerable number\nof defections from the communion of the church. But we have no\nexpectation that this defection of individuals will consolidate into\na new concrete heresy. John Huss and Martin Luther have exhausted\nthe probabilities of pseudo-orthodox reformation. Its race is run.\nThe time for heresy is past. Organized opposition to the Catholic\nChurch in these days must take a more consistently anti-Christian\nform. Pius IX. and Garibaldi represent the only two real parties.\nD\u00f6llinger is nobody, and has no place. That a great many baptized\nCatholics have totally renounced the faith is undoubtedly true. But\nthe Catholic people who still retain the principles and the spirit\nof their traditional faith are with Pius IX. This is true of the\nBavarian and other German popular masses, as well as of the people\nof other nations. The German prelates, the clergy, the nobility, are\nstrong and enthusiastic in their allegiance to the Holy See. The\northodox theologians and _savants_ can wield the ponderous hammer of\nscience with as much strength of aim as any of the scholars who have\nbeen fostered in the sunshine of royal favor. The boast made by Dr.\nD\u00f6llinger at the Congress of Munich of the pre-eminence which Germany\nwill gain in Catholic theology and sacred science will probably be\nin part fulfilled, though not in the sense which he had in his mind.\nIt will be fulfilled, not by men who bid a haughty defiance to the\nsaints and doctors of the church, who utter scornful words against\nthe scholars of other nations, who are governed by narrow-minded\nnational prejudice and unreasoning obstinacy, and who are faithless\nin their allegiance to their spiritual sovereign, while they are\nservilely obsequious to a temporal monarch. It will be done by true,\ngenuine Catholics, the legitimate offspring of the great men who\nfounded, governed, taught, and made illustrious the old church and\nempire of Germany in past ages.\n\nThe gist of the entire quarrel of Dr. D\u00f6llinger with the Archbishop\nof Munich consists in an appeal from the supreme authority in the\nchurch to the principle of private judgment. In form, it is an appeal\nto the Holy Scriptures and the Fathers, but this is only an appeal\nto Dr. D\u00f6llinger's own private interpretation of the true sense of\nScripture and the Fathers. It is the same appeal which heretics and\nschismatics have made in all ages: Arius, Nestorius, Pelagius, Huss,\nLuther, Cranmer, Photius, Mark of Ephesus, the Armenian schismatics\nof Constantinople, and all others who have rebelled against the Holy\nSee. It is the essence of Protestantism, and in the end transforms\nitself into rationalism and infidelity. The ancient heretics, the\nOriental schismatics, Anglicans, Lutherans, Calvinists, Unitarians,\nall have a common principle, all are Protestants. That principle\nis the right of private judgment to resist the supreme authority\nof the Catholic Church. So long as private judgment is supposed\nto be directed by a supernatural light of the Holy Spirit, and\nto possess in Scripture and tradition, or in Scripture alone, a\npositive revelation, Protestantism is a kind of Christianity. When\nthe natural reason is made the arbiter, and the absolute authority\nof the doctrine of Jesus Christ as taught by the apostles is denied,\nit is a rationalistic philosophy, which remains Christian in a\nmodified and general sense until it descends so low as to become\nsimply unchristian and infidel. The Catholic principle which is\nconstitutive of the Catholic Church as a body, and of each individual\nCatholic as a member of it, is the principle of authority. There is\nno logical alternative between the two. One or the other must be\nfinal and supreme, the authority of the church or the authority of\nthe individual judgment. If the authority of the church is supreme,\nno individual or aggregate of individuals can reject or even question\nits decisions. It is the Catholic doctrine that authority is supreme.\nThe church is constituted by the organic unity of bishops, clergy,\nand people, with their Head, the Bishop of Rome, the successor of\nSt. Peter. He is the Vicar of Christ, and possesses the plenitude of\napostolic and episcopal authority. His judgment is final and supreme,\nwhether he pronounces it with or without the judicial concurrence of\nan \u0153cumenical council. This has always been the recognized doctrine\nand practice of the church. It is nothing more or less than Papal\nsupremacy as existing and everywhere believed, as much before as\nafter the Council of the Vatican. The word \"infallibility,\" like\nthe words \"consubstantial\" and \"transubstantiation,\" is only the\nprecise and definite expression of that which has long been a dogma\ndefined under other terms, and always been contained in the universal\nfaith of the church based on Scripture and apostolic tradition.\nThe first Christians were taught to obey implicitly the teachings\nof St. Peter and the apostles, because they had received authority\nfrom Jesus Christ. There was nothing said about infallibility,\nbecause the idea was sufficiently impressed upon their minds in a\nmore simple and concrete form. Their descendants, in like manner,\nbelieved in the teaching of the successors of the apostles because\nthey had inherited their divine authority. Whoever separated from\nthe Roman Church and was condemned by the Roman Pontiff was at once\nknown to have lost all authority to teach. The teaching of the\nbishops in communion with the Roman Church, and approved by the Roman\nPontiff, was always known to be the immediate and practical rule\nof faith. Whoever taught anything contrary to that was manifestly\nin error, and, if contumacious, a heretic, who must be cast out of\nthe church, however high his rank might be. Moreover, the Roman\nPontiff decided all controversies, and issued his dogmatic decrees\nto all bishops, who were required to receive and promulgate them\nunder pain of excommunication. This unconditional obedience to an\nexternal authority evidently presupposes that the authority obeyed is\nrendered infallible by the supernatural assistance of the Holy Ghost.\nHence, the express and explicit profession of the infallibility of\nthe church as a dogma of faith has been universal ever since it\nhas been made a distinct object of thought and exposition. It is\nnothing more than a distinct expression of one part of the idea\nthat the church has divine and supreme authority to teach, with a\ncorresponding obligation on the faithful to believe her teaching. In\nlike manner, the divine and supreme authority of the Pope to teach\nincludes and implies infallibility, as the vast majority of bishops\nand theologians have always held and taught. The erroneous opinion\nthat the express or tacit acquiescence of the bishops is necessary\nto the finality of pontifical decrees in matters pertaining to faith\nand doctrine, was tolerated by the Holy See until the definitions of\nthe Council of the Vatican were promulgated. The infallibility of\nthe church itself produces this agreement of the episcopate with its\nhead. In fact, therefore, and practically, the pontifical decrees\nwere always submitted to by good Catholics, and the Holy See did\nnot formally and expressly exact any more than this as a term of\nCatholic communion. Dr. D\u00f6llinger and others of the same stamp took\nadvantage of this toleration of an illogical and erroneous opinion\nto undermine the doctrine of Papal supremacy and the authority of\n\u0153cumenical councils. The Pope cannot possess the supreme power of\nteaching and judging, they argued, without infallibility. He is\nnot infallible, therefore, he is not supreme. Moreover, the only\ncertain criterion by which we know that a council is \u0153cumenical\nis the sanction of the Pope. If he is not infallible, he may err\nin giving this sanction. Thus, the way was opened to dispute the\nauthority of the Councils of Trent, Lateran, Florence, etc., and to\nrip up the whole texture of Catholic doctrine, just so far as suited\nthe notions of these audacious innovators. The event has proved how\nopportune and necessary was that distinct and precise definition\nof the infallibility of the Roman Pontiff which has for ever shut\nout the possibility of sheltering a fundamental heresy like that of\nD\u00f6llinger behind an ambiguous expression. There is now no more chance\nfor evading the law and remaining ostensibly a Catholic. The law\nis clear and plain. All dogmatic decrees of the Pope, made with or\nwithout his general council, are infallible and irreformable. Once\nmade, no pope or council can reverse them. There is no choice left\nto the prelates about enforcing them on their clergy and people. No\nclergyman holds his position, and no one of the faithful is entitled\nto the sacraments, on any other terms than entire submission and\nobedience. This is the Catholic principle, that the church cannot\nerr in faith. She has declared it to be an article of faith that the\nRoman Pontiff, speaking _ex cathedr\u00e2_ as the supreme doctor of the\nchurch, is infallible. It is therefore a contradiction in terms for a\nperson who denies or doubts this doctrine to call himself a Catholic.\nWe cannot too constantly or earnestly impress this truth on the\nminds of the Catholic people, that the rule of faith is the present,\nconcrete, living, and perpetual teaching of that supreme authority\nwhich Christ has established in the church. We believe, on the\nveracity of God, by a supernatural faith which is given by the Holy\nGhost in baptism, those truths which the holy church proposes to our\nbelief. The church can never change, never reform her faith, never\nretract her decisions, never dispense her children from an obligation\nshe has once imposed on them of receiving a definition as the true\nexpression of a dogma contained in the divine revelation. To do so,\nwould be to destroy herself, and fall down to the level of the sects.\nThe idle talk of writers for the secular press, whether they pretend\nto call themselves Catholics or not, about the church conforming\nherself to liberal principles and the spirit of the age is simply\nworthy of laughter and derision. No Catholic who has a grain of\nsense will pay any heed to opinions or monitions coming from such an\nincompetent source. The church is the only judge of the nature and\nextent of her own powers, and of the proper mode of exercising them.\nThe pontiffs, prelates, pastors, priests, and theologians of the\nchurch, are her authorized expositors and interpreters, her advocates\nand defenders. Those who desire to be her worthy members, and those\nwho wish to learn what she really is, will seek from them, and from\nthem only, or from authors and writings which they have sanctioned,\ninstruction in the true Catholic doctrine. The unhappy man whose\ndefection has called forth these remarks has lost his place in the\nCatholic hierarchy, and henceforth he is of no more account than any\nother sectarian of past times or of the present. The ecclesiastical\nhistorian will record his name in the list of the heretics of the\nnineteenth century, and his peculiar ideas will pass into oblivion,\nexcept as a matter of curious research to the scholar.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[105] See the second volume of this periodical for 1861, and also the\nnumber for March, 1870.\n\n[106] Thus I will, thus I command: let my will stand for a reason.\n\n\n\n\nFALSE VIEWS OF SAINTSHIP.\n\n\nWe often hear the saints spoken of as men of another race and stature\nthan ourselves, splendid masterpieces of perfection meant to be\nadmired from a distance, but certainly not to be copied with loving\nand minute care.\n\nNow, this is a mistake--the most fatal mistake for ourselves; for we\nthus tie down our faculties to commonplace life, and refuse to give\nthem the wider scope that nature herself meant for their exercise;\nthe most unfortunate mistake for religion, because in making her\nheroes inaccessible and almost unnatural, we deter others from\nlaudable efforts, and attach to our faith the stigma of present\nsterility.\n\nNot only can each one of us become a saint, and that by a simple and\nordinary course of life, but the canonized saints themselves bear\nwitness that they reached heaven in no other way, and attained their\ncrowns by no other means. The saint, be assured of it, is the truest\ngentleman, the pleasantest companion, and most faithful friend.\n\nHe is no morose misanthrope, no disenchanted cynic; he is a man with\nall the natural feelings of humanity, all the amiable traits of\ngood-fellowship, all the nameless graces of good society. There is no\npleasing, amenity of human intercourse, no rational exchange of human\nsentiments, no harmless relaxation of a refined mind, that need be\nforeign to his nature, and a stranger to his heart.\n\nAll men prize honor and straight-forwardness; they welcome\ncheerfulness and vivacity; they admire a strong will; love of nature\nand art, sympathy with suffering and with poverty, zealousness in the\ncause of learning, are all passports to their favor, and incline them\nto seek the friendship and trust the advice of those in whom these\nqualities shine.\n\nNow, if we show them that canonized saints and great men well known\nin the annals of the church have always been distinguished by these\ntraits, will they refuse to admit that the more a man loves his God,\nthe fitter he is to win human sympathy and command human imitation?\n\nThe saints have not seldom been unfairly treated, and chiefly by\ntheir overzealous biographers; for their holiness has been distilled\ninto such ethereal and miraculous abstractions that we no more dream\nof grasping it as a means of encouragement than we do of seizing for\nnourishment upon the summer clouds whose lovely shapes entrance our\neyes in the western heavens.\n\nEvery one of the saints had an individual character, touching\nweaknesses of disposition and innocent partialities of nature. Every\none of them went to heaven by a separate road, and his specialty of\nhuman and natural character alone determined that road. Some were\nkings and emperors, princes and popes, and great men of the earth;\nthey had to wear soft garments and ermine robes, and spend much time\nin the display their state required. Now, many sanctimonious persons\nwould have us believe that such display is absolutely and in itself\nwrong, and can under no circumstances be allowable. The church\nthinks otherwise, and more generously, and has canonized these men.\n\nSome were beggars or servants, mechanics or husbandmen; passed their\ndays in menial pursuits, and apparently had their minds occupied only\nby the sordid necessities of their humble degree. Many presumptuous\npeople like to tell us that servile work deteriorates the mind, that\nbeggary is invariably a criminal state, that poverty dwarfs the\nunderstanding and hardens the heart. The church thinks otherwise, and\nmore charitably, and these too she has canonized.\n\nAgain, some were statesmen and scholars, and the wranglings of\ncourts, the tumult of embassies, the disputes of universities, were\nthe daily atmosphere they breathed. Some officious persons tell us\nplainly that solitude is the only nurse of holiness, and that, with\nthese surroundings, it is impossible to live unbewildered by the\nworld's noise and untainted by the world's corruption. The church\nthinks otherwise, and more liberally, and has canonized these men\nalso.\n\nNo station in life is too low or too high for God to look upon, and\ntherefore not too low nor too high for God's saints to thrive in.\n\nThe secret of saintship lies in the power of a man to fashion his\nsurroundings, and mould the circumstances attendant on his lot in\nlife, till he makes them into a ladder wherewith to climb to heaven.\n\nSuppose a man is born to high destinies, and a great fortune: they\nare ready-made instruments in his hand for the glory of God and the\ngood of his neighbor. Let him recollect that Jesus was of a royal\nrace, and was visited by Eastern kings.\n\nSuppose, on the contrary, he is born poor, and sees no means of\nfuture advancement all his life: there again are his weapons chosen\nfor him to fight the good fight. Let him remember that Jesus was born\nin a stable, and lived in a carpenter's shop.\n\nIf a man is clever, intellectual, talented, his road to heaven lies\nin the good use he makes of these gifts of mind; if he is cheerful,\ngood-humored, well-bred, his road to heaven lies in the charitable\nuse he makes of his natural attractiveness; if he is placed in\ncircumstances that grievously try his temper and his patience,\nlong-suffering, resignation, and gentleness will be the evident path\nfor him; if surrounded by difficulties and occupying a responsible\nposition, discretion and delicacy will be his appointed road.\n\nThere is no forcing the spiritual life; it grows out of the natural\nlife, and is only the natural life, shorn of self and self-love,\nsupernaturalized.\n\nLife is a battle; we all have to fight it, but even in a material\ncombat, what general would arm all his soldiers alike? Are there not\ncavalry and infantry, lancers and riflemen? Do not some wield the\nsword, others man the guns? So in the combat whose promised land is\nparadise; we fight each with diverse weapons, and our one thought\nshould be, not to envy others their arms, but do effectual service\nwith our own. Men fight one way, women another. Both can fight as\nwell; but only by using their own weapons.\n\nThere is an old French fable that speaks of the frog who sought to\nswell himself to the size of the ox, forgetting that he could be\nas happy and as useful in his small fish-pond as the larger animal\nin his spacious meadow. He _would_ not be a frog, but of course he\n_could_ not become an ox, so he died of his effort, and the world\ncounted one worker less. Just so do some of us act when we sigh over\nthe life of some great saint of old, and, putting down the book in\nsentimental admiration as barren as it is useless, cry out, \"If only\n_I_ could be an Augustine, a Theresa, a Thomas Aquinas!\" To such\nmight we answer: \"Do you know why they were saints? Because they\nacted up to the lights they had. If _you_ act up to your inferior\nbut no less true lights, you too will be a saint.\" If Augustine,\nand Theresa, and Thomas Aquinas had spent their lives in sterile\nsentimentality, calling upon the dead saints before them, where\nwould _they_ have been, and who would have heard of their names?\nAt that rate, there would have been no saints at all after the\ntwelve apostles, and even they would have sat down in profitless\ndiscouragement because their holiness could not equal that of the Son\nof God!\n\nDid not the Creator say to all things living, vegetable or animal,\n\"Increase and multiply,\" and \"Let the earth bring forth the green\nherb, and such as may seed, and the fruit-tree bearing fruit _after\nits kind_\"? In that one commandment lies the secret spring of the\nenergy and fruitfulness of every created thing, spiritual no less\nthan temporal. Let each one of us bear fruit _according to his\nkind_, and God will be satisfied. Augustine and Gregory, Thomas\nand Bonaventure, Francis of Assisium and Francis of Sales, Charles\nBorromeo and Vincent of Paul, Philip Neri and Ignatius Loyola, were\nmen, very _men_, and, had they not been men, they could not have\nbeen saints. We mean, their sanctity would have been other than\nit actually was; it would have been even as the holiness of the\nangels, the untempted steadfastness of pure spirits. Had they been\nborn as the Blessed Virgin, immaculate in the very initial moment\nof existence, they would not have been the saints they are, the\nimitable, human, weakling beings we yearn over and love with a\nnatural and sympathetic love.\n\nNature, whatever people may say of her, is not contrary to grace:\nnot in this sense at least, that she is the field, and grace the\nplough. The plough does not alter the earth it furrows; it only\nprepares it, stirs it, turns its better surface uppermost, and\ndisplays its richest loam to receive the grain. As neither rain, nor\ndew, nor manure can turn one soil into another, so can no efforts of\noverstrained piety, no devices of ambitious perseverance, re-create\nthe soul and portion it anew. As God made us, so we stand: by taking\nthought, we cannot add to our stature one cubit, neither can we force\na foreign growth to bloom on the low-lying lands of our soul. One\nsort of grain grows best in one sort of earth. Would any husbandman\ndream of planting the wrong grain in it? God is a husbandman, and\nshall he do less well than mortal man, and shall he endeavor to\nforce one soil to bear the crop it cannot nourish? No, no! God gave\nus one nature as well as the graces he plants therein, and we may\ntrust to him to see the harvest reaped. It is men, it is ourselves,\nwho interfere with our sowing and reaping time; it is ourselves, who\nambitiously seek to grow grain we can never rear, or it is others who\nmaliciously sow tares in a soil they too quickly overrun. Then the\nworld will see in us her saints, men going simply through the round\nof their daily duties, very unostentatiously, very quietly, never\nboasting, because to have time to boast they must needs leave off\ntheir work; never lamenting, because to lament they would have to\nleave off their prayer; but letting their nature fill itself to the\nbrim with God, and, when it is full, letting it quietly overflow to\ntheir neighbor.\n\nThat sounds very simple, does it not? Yes, because everything that\nbelongs to God is simplicity itself, and the more simple a man is,\nthe nearer God he is.\n\nAll the great men and women whose names stud the calendar of the\nchurch owed their greatness to their simplicity, and the words of the\ngreatest saint that ever lived, the words of her, were they not the\nsimplest ever found on record: \"Be it done unto me according to thy\nword\"?\n\nSaints of our timid generation, saints of our half-hearted century,\nsaints of our hitherto barren civilization, start up, and fill the\nplains and the valleys of all lands, fill the offices of the city\nand the homes of the citizens, fill the church, the courts, the\nuniversities, fill the lowly serried ranks of the poor, fill the more\nburdened and more responsible phalanx of the noble and the rich!\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    THE LIFE OF ST. THOMAS OF AQUIN. By Father Vaughan,\n    O.S.B. London: Longmans, Brown, Green & Co. Vol. I. For\n    sale by The Catholic Publication Society, New York.\n\nThis is a good stout volume, like St. Thomas himself. It is a book\nfor its outward appearance such as we seldom see. We have many\nwell-printed books, but this one is remarkable for its large, clear\ntype, which makes it pleasant and easy to read. The subject is one\nof the greatest interest and importance. The life and times of St.\nThomas have a peculiar charm about them, aside from the history\nof his genius, and of his philosophical and theological system.\nThe two together make a theme which far surpasses in grandeur and\nattractiveness even the history of the majority of great saints.\nSt. Thomas is the great doctor of the church. His intellectual\nsway is something without a parallel. The study of his works is on\nthe increase, and he is likely to acquire even a greater and more\nuniversal sway than he enjoyed before the Reformation. We have never\nbefore had a really good biography of St. Thomas in English. Father\nVaughan has taken hold of the work with zeal and ability. It is only\nhalf published as yet, but the first volume presents so large a\nportion of the angelic doctor's life before us that we can estimate\nits value as well as if we had the whole. An analysis of some of\nthe principal works of St. Thomas is given by F. Vaughan, and he\nendeavors to present to the reader a picture of the times when he\nlived, as well as to describe the events of his personal history.\nEvery student should have this book. It is indeed a wonderful thing\nto see such a specimen of genuine old monastic literature issuing\nfrom the English press. It makes us hope that England may yet become\nonce more the merrie Catholic England of the olden time.\n\n\n    MY STUDY WINDOWS. By James Russell Lowell, A.M.,\n    Professor of Belles-Lettres in Harvard College. Boston:\n    James R. Osgood & Co. 1871.\n\nMet with in the pages of a review or magazine, Mr. Lowell's prose\nis always sure to be more or less pleasant reading. His wit, his\nrefinement, and a certain something which we are only unwilling\nto call his delicacy of appreciation, because, in spite of his\ngenerally acknowledged merits as a critic, he seems to us not\nalways perfectly reliable in that capacity, always find him willing\nand amused readers. But when he shuts up too much of his work at\nonce between a pair of covers, and gives whoever will a too easy\nopportunity of comparing him with himself, we doubt whether even\nhis admirers--a class in which we are not unwilling to include\nourselves--do not find him a little wearisome, and discover in him\na poverty of suggestion and a timidity of thought which gibbet him\nas a book-maker, although, being in a measure counterbalanced by\nan abundance of lighter merits, they would have left him an easy\npre-eminence over most of his contemporaries as a magazinist. Nor,\nif we may for once adopt a method of criticism from which our author\nhimself is not averse, and trust our instinct to read between the\nlines, is Mr. Lowell altogether free from a suspicion that such may\npossibly be the case--and that, as affecting his own culture and\nhabit of mind also, it was a far-reaching mistake in our Puritan\nancestors to cut themselves quite asunder from the traditions of\nthe past before they came here to establish free thinking and free\nreligion along with a free government. However it may be with\ngovernment, neither thought nor faith seems to flourish well without\nhaving its roots in the past. Like their transcendentalist sons, our\nNew England progenitors were themselves \"Apostles of the Newness,\"\nand simply antedated them by a few generations in the experiment\nof throwing overboard a great deal of valuable freight, and trying\nto right themselves by laying in a supply of useless ballast. The\nsentiment which they dignified by the name of trust in Providence\nappears nowadays under a less equivocal disguise as self-reliance;\nand while it produces certain easily appreciable results both in\nsociety and literature, it makes instability, a want of solidity, and\nan absence of germinative force permanent characteristics of both of\nthem. Not, however, to make an essay on a sufficiently suggestive\ntopic, but to confine ourselves to the particular matter in hand,\nit is perhaps Mr. Lowell's _thin-skinnedness_ as an author, and a\ncharacteristic modesty as to the value of his utterances, none the\nless apparent for being put carefully out of sight, which give him,\nto our thinking, his best claim to the liking of his readers--while\nat the same time it is a modesty so well justified by the actual\nstate of the case as to explain why it is that one is always more\nready to accept with satisfaction what he has to say about an author\nwhose claims have been tested by more than one generation of critics,\nthan to trust him for a thoroughly reliable estimate of a literary\nworkman of to-day. Even in the former case one inclines to believe\nthat he may sometimes feel a just preference for his own opinions in\ncontradistinction to those of Mr. Lowell--who is not, for instance,\nlikely to elicit much intelligent sympathy with his verdict on the\npoetical merits of the \"Rape of the Lock.\" By far the pleasantest\nportions of the present volume are the three opening essays, in which\nMr. Lowell quite forgets that he is a critic, or, at least, that he\nis a critic of books. The essays on Carlyle and Thoreau contain also\na good deal of sound, if not particularly subtle, criticism; and\nin general, although the book does not show Mr. Lowell in his most\ncharacteristic vein, it pleases us all the better on that account, as\ngiving us what substance there is in his thought, with much less than\nordinary of the technical brilliancy which wearies quite as often as\nit entertains.\n\n\n    DION AND THE SIBYLS. A Classic Christian Novel. By\n    Miles Gerald Keon, Colonial Secretary, Bermuda, author\n    of \"Harding the Money-Spinner,\" etc. New York: Catholic\n    Publication Society. 1871. 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 224.\n\n_Dion and the Sibyls_ is a work of uncommon merit, and may be\nclassed, in our opinion, with _Fabiola_ and _Callista_, which is the\nhighest compliment we could possibly pay to a romance of the early\nperiod of Christian history. The Dion of the story is Dionysius the\nAreopagite in his youth, and before his conversion. The Sibyls are\nintroduced in reference to their predictions of a coming Saviour of\nmankind. The object of the author is to exhibit the fearful need\nwhich existed in heathen society for a divine intervention, and the\ngeneral, widespread desire and expectation of such an event at the\ntime when our Lord actually appeared on the earth. This is done by\nmeans of a plot which is woven from the personal history of a nephew\nof Lepidus the Triumvir, a young Roman noble of Greek education, and\nan intimate friend of Dionysius, who came to Rome with his mother\nand sister at the close of the reign of Augustus, to claim the\nsequestrated estate of his father, one of the generals who helped to\nwin the battle of Philippi. The appeal of the young Paulus \u00c6milius\nLepidus to Augustus at a time when the latter was visiting the\nwealthy Knight Mamurra at his superb villa at Formi\u00e6, and a plot of\nTiberius C\u00e6sar to carry off Agatha, the young man's sister, afford\nan occasion of describing the principal persons of the Roman court.\nThis is done in a graphic and masterly manner. The representation of\nthe aged Augustus is something perfect in its kind. The portraits\nof Tiberius, Germanicus, Caligula, then a child, the royal ladies,\nSejanus the Pr\u00e6torian prefect, Velleius Paterculus, Thellus the chief\nof the gladiators, and a number of other persons representing various\nclasses of Romans, are admirably and vividly drawn. The breaking of\nthe ferocious Sejan horse by the young \u00c6milius at the public games of\nFormi\u00e6 is a scene of striking originality and power. The campaign of\nGermanicus against the Germans is also well described. In fact, Mr.\nKeon makes the old Roman world reappear before us like a panorama.\nHe shows himself to be a thorough and minute classical scholar and\nhistorian on every page and in every line. But beyond and above all\nthis, he exhibits a power of philosophical reasoning, and an insight\ninto the deepest significance of Christianity, which elevate his\nthrilling romance to the rank of a work of the highest moral and\nreligious scope. The description of the demons by the Lady Plancina\nis an original and awfully sublime conception surpassing anything in\nthe _Mystique Diabolique_ of G\u00f6rres. The author's great masterpiece,\nhowever, is the argument of Dionysius on the being of One God before\nthe court of Augustus, a piece of writing of which any professed\nphilosopher might be proud.\n\nThe history of Paulus \u00c6milius, who is really the hero of the work,\nbrings him at last to Jud\u00e6a at the time of the murder of St. John\nthe Baptist, and the closing scenes of the life of our Lord. This\ngives the author the opportunity of describing a momentary glimpse\nwhich the brave and virtuous Roman was favored with of the form and\ncountenance of the Divine Redeemer, as he was passing down the Mount\nof Olives. Mr. Keon undertook a difficult task, one in which many\nhave failed, when he ventured on introducing the august figure of our\nLord into his picture. We are fastidious in matters of this kind,\nand not easily satisfied by any attempt at giving in language what\nsculptors and painters usually fall short of expressing in marble and\non canvas. Mr. Keon's bold effort pleases us so much that we cannot\nhelp wishing he would try his hand at some more sketches of the same\nkind. We should like to see some scenes from the evangelical history\nand the Acts of the Apostles produced under an ideal and imaginative\nform with an ability equal to that which our author has displayed in\nhis pictures of the Augustan age. The success of Renan's _Life of\nJesus_ is due not so much to the popularity of his detestable and\nabsurd theories, as to the attraction of his theme and the charm of a\nvivid, lifelike representation of the scenes, manners, and events of\nthe period when our Lord lived and taught in Jud\u00e6a. A similar work,\nproduced in accordance with the true Catholic idea of the august,\ndivine person of the Son of God made man, would do more to counteract\nthe poison of the infamous infidel literature of the day in the\npopular mind than any grave argumentative treatise. We pronounce Mr.\nKeon's _Dion and the Sibyls_ without hesitation to be a dramatic and\nphilosophical masterpiece, and we trust that he will not allow his\ngenius to lie idle, but will give us more works of the same sort.\nWhether the vitiated taste of the novel-reading world will appreciate\nworks of so classical a stamp, we are unable to say. But all those\nwho relish truth conveyed through the forms of the purest art will\nthank Mr. Keon for the pleasure he has given them, if they shall, as\nwe did, by chance take up his book and peruse it attentively, and\nwill concur with us in wishing that a work of so much merit and value\nmight be better known and more widely circulated.\n\n\n    LITERATURE AND LIFE. Edwin P. Whipple. Enlarged\n    Edition. Boston: James R. Osgood & Co. 1871.\n\nThe essays contained in this volume are ten in number: Authors in\ntheir Relations to Life; Novels and Novelists; Wit and Humor; The\nLudicrous Side of Life; Genius; Intellectual Health and Disease; Use\nand Misuse of Words; Wordsworth; Bryant; Stupid Conservatism and\nMalignant Reform.\n\nOf these the first six were originally delivered by Mr. Whipple as\npopular lectures many years ago, and were collected and published in\n1849.\n\nThe last four articles are later productions of the author, and are\nfirst published together in this enlarged edition of his early work.\n\nIn a somewhat extended notice of Mr. Whipple's essays on the\n\"Literature of the Age of Elizabeth\" more than a year ago, we pointed\nout some of his excellences and defects as they appeared to us. Both\nare perhaps even more apparent in this book.\n\nIts style is marked by that command of expression for which the\nauthor is always so remarkable, and is at the same time clear,\npointed, and unaffected.\n\nYet the essays sometimes bear marks of the object for which they\nwere written, and one cannot help wishing that the author had not\nbeen so evidently restricted in the materials he used and in the\ncharacteristics of his style by the necessity of their adaptation to\nthe audience of lecture-goers to which they were addressed.\n\nThe distinctively critical essays are the best, and it is in literary\ncriticism that Mr. Whipple is always most at home.\n\nHis appreciative estimates of the genius of Dickens and of Wordsworth\nhave, we think, been very seldom equalled in force and justice by any\nof the numerous criticisms of those authors which have been published.\n\nThose who are familiar with Mr. Whipple's essays will be glad to see\nthem republished in so elegant and convenient a form, and those who\nare not cannot now do better than to make their acquaintance.\n\n\n    FIFTY CATHOLIC TRACTS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. First\n    Series. New York: The Catholic Publication Society, 9\n    Warren Street. 1871\n\nThe wish so often expressed of seeing \"The Catholic Tracts\" in a\nbook form has been met by this volume. The variety of its contents\nmakes it a book for circulation among all classes of society. Short,\npopular, and conclusive answers are given on questions of the day,\nmaking it of great value as a work of actual controversy, while not\na few of the tracts are instructive and devotional, rendering it\nequally important to Catholics.\n\nThe volume is printed on good paper, and its price brings it\nwithin the reach of every one. We recommend it to the attention of\nclergymen, and the confraternities, sodalities, and Rosary societies,\nas a book for distribution among a reading and thinking people\nseeking after religious truth. We give the preface entire:\n\n    \"In the spring of 1866, the Catholic Publication\n    Society issued its first tract. Since that time it has\n    published fifty tracts on different subjects. More than\n    two and one half millions (2,500,000) of these short\n    and popular papers have been sold and circulated. This\n    is sufficient evidence of their value and popularity.\n\n    \"Some of the ablest writers in our country have\n    contributed to this work. Although we have never given\n    the names of the authors, we feel at liberty to say\n    that eminent prelates and learned theologians--men who\n    have a world-wide reputation--have written many of\n    these tracts. A well-written tract often costs more\n    labor than an essay or an article for a magazine.\n\n    \"Nor have these tracts been written and circulated\n    without good effect. We know of Protestants converted\n    and received into the church by their means. Countless\n    prejudices against our religion have been removed, even\n    when persons have not been led to become Catholics.\n    Their minds have been thus prepared for accepting the\n    truth at some future day. In addition to this, we\n    must remember that many of the tracts are written for\n    the instruction of Catholics. Numerous letters from\n    those in charge of hospitals, asylums, and prisons,\n    in various sections of our country, bear testimony to\n    their value in this respect.\n\n    \"An objection is sometimes made to the word 'tract.'\n    We do not altogether like the word ourselves. If any\n    friend can suggest a better, we will cheerfully adopt\n    it. Until then, we must continue to use it. Surely\n    Catholics have a right to any word in the English\n    language. Sometimes an objection is made to the tract\n    form of publication. Those who have scruples on this\n    score are relieved by the publication of this volume.\n    These tracts now form a book. No one can fairly object\n    to the matter it contains.\n\n    \"We trust, therefore, that they who find benefit from\n    this little volume of tracts will endeavor to increase\n    its circulation. To the clergy we recommend Tract 50 as\n    one intended to place before them a practical method of\n    circulating Catholic literature among their people. We\n    cannot close without expressing the strong desire to\n    see this volume spread over the length and breadth of\n    our land.\"\n\n\n    MEDITATIONS ON THE LITANY OF THE MOST HOLY VIRGIN.\n    By the Abb\u00e9 Barthe. Translated from the French by a\n    Daughter of St. Joseph. Philadelphia: P. F. Cunningham.\n    1871.\n\nThis handsome work supplies a want long felt. It contains meditations\non each phrase of the Litany from the _Kyrie eleison_ to the _Agnus\nDei_. These meditations are of suitable length for May devotions, and\nare admirable for their solidity no less than for their piety. The\nAbb\u00e9 Barthe is an honorable Canon of Rodey (France); and we cannot do\nbetter than quote the letter of his bishop. He says: \"I rejoice that\na priest of my diocese ... has given to learned and Christian France\na work which will be widely diffused, and which will make the august\nMary loved, admired, and venerated in these lines, when, more than\never, we need to place ourselves under her glorious protection.\"\n\nThere are also letters of commendation from Cardinal Giraud,\nArchbishop of Cambria, and his grace the Archbishop of Paris, to\nwhich is added the approbation of the Bishop of Philadelphia.\n\nMay this \"Monument to the Glory of Mary\" (as it is called) meet in\nthis country with the circulation it deserves, and be the means of\nspreading wide and deep the love and worship of her whose Immaculate\nConception is our patronal feast.\n\n\n    THE WONDERS OF THE HEAVENS. By Camille Flammarion. From\n    the French, by Mrs. Norman Lockyer. With forty-eight\n    illustrations. New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1871.\n\nTo those who take a delight in reading about the planets and\nstars, this work will prove both instructive and interesting. The\nillustrations are very fine, and the work is got up in uniform style\nwith the other volume of \"The Library of Wonders,\" noticed in these\npages before, of which it is one of the series.\n\n\n    THECLA; or, The Malediction. By Madame A. R. De La\n    Grange. 1 vol. 12mo. New York: P. O'Shea.\n\nThis is an interesting story descriptive of a family living in the\nRoman province of Cappadocia in the fifth century, giving quaint\npictures of life in those early days, and lovely glimpses of the\nnatural beauties of the country. The object of the tale is to\nillustrate the special judgments of Almighty God on disobedient\nchildren and an overindulgent parent, who out of a weak fondness\nput no restraints upon her children in their youth. The terrible\nretribution that follows a parent's curse, and the remorse and\nbitterness of heart that must be the portion of neglectful parents,\nare well portrayed by Madame De La Grange. The volume will be an\nexcellent addition to our Sunday-school libraries.\n\nWe would suggest to the publisher the propriety of a thinner and\nbetter paper. It does not look seemly to print books on common\npaste-board.\n\n\n    THE THEOLOGY OF THE PARABLES. By Father Coleridge,\n    S.J. With an Arrangement of the Parables, by Father\n    Salmeron. London: Burns, Oates & Co. For sale by The\n    Catholic Publication Society.\n\nThis is a paper of no great length, but of great service to the\ncause of faith. It is in every respect worthy of the pen of Father\nColeridge. He sets before us the parables in quite a new light, as\nmeant to teach us the ways of God to men. Why our Lord chose the\nparabolic form of teaching and why he said so much about his Father\nare shown with great force and clearness.\n\n\n    NATURAL HISTORY OF NEW YORK. PAL\u00c6ONTOLOGY. Vol. IV.\n    Part. I. Albany: Printed by C. Van Benthuysen & Sons.\n    March, 1867.\n\nThis is a continuation of Professor Hall's able researches on the\nfossils of this state. It contains descriptions and figures of\nthe Brachiopoda of the Helderberg, Hamilton, Portage, and Chemung\ngroups. The plates are admirably executed, like those in the previous\nvolumes, and the name of the author is a sufficient proof of the\naccuracy and value of the descriptions which they illustrate. The\nwork is a solid and valuable contribution to science.\n\n\nBOOKS RECEIVED.\n\n    From JOHN MURPHY & CO., Baltimore: The Child's\n    Prayer and Hymn Book. For the use of Catholic\n    Sunday-schools.--The Expiation. A Drama in Three Acts.\n    Translated from the French by James Kehoe. Paper.\n\n    From J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., Philadelphia, Pa.: The\n    Virginia Forest. A Handbook of Travel in Virginia.\n    By E. A. Pollard. 1 vol. 16mo, paper.--History of\n    Florida from its Discovery by Ponce de Leon in 1512,\n    to the Close of the Florida War in 1842. By George R.\n    Fairbanks. 1 vol. 12mo.--The Conservative Reformation\n    and its Theology: as Represented in the Augsburgh\n    Confession, and in the History and Literature of the\n    Evangelical Lutheran Church. By Charles P. Krauth D.D.\n    1 vol. 8vo.\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 76.--JULY, 1871.[107]\n\n\nAN IRISH MARTYR.\n\n\nTowards the close of the year 1645, the venerable oratorian, Father\nPeter Francis Scarampo, who had spent two years in Ireland on a\nspecial mission from the Holy See, was permitted to resign his\nposition and return to Rome. He was accompanied thither by five\nyoung students whose relatives desired that they should complete\ntheir theological studies in the colleges of the Eternal City. Of\nthese, the most distinguished for early proficiency and gentleness of\ndisposition was a youth named Oliver Plunket, then in his sixteenth\nyear, having been born at Loughcrew, county of Meath, in 1629, a near\nrelative and prot\u00e9g\u00e9 of the Bishop of Ardagh, Doctor Patrick Plunket,\nand closely connected by ties of kindred with some of the noblest\nfamilies of Ireland, and with many distinguished ecclesiastics at\nhome and on the Continent. Father Scarampo had borne himself so\nwisely and with so much charity and discretion while in Ireland,\nthat his departure was regarded as a public misfortune, and his\nretiring footsteps were followed to the sea-coast by thousands of\npious and grateful people; and, though his humble spirit would not\nallow him to accept the distinguished post of Papal Nuncio, and so\nremain among them, he never ceased to remember their hospitality\nand long-suffering and to befriend their cause at Rome upon all\noccasions. On the young men entrusted to his care he bestowed every\npossible favor, and especially on young Plunket, in whom he took\na fatherly interest up to the day of his untimely death on the\nplague-stricken Island of St. Bartholomew, even to the extent of\ndefraying that student's expenses for the first three years of his\nnovitiate.\n\nSoon after his arrival in Rome, Oliver Plunket entered the Irish\nCollege of that city, then under the charge of the Jesuit Fathers,\nand for eight years devoted himself with great industry and success\nto the study of philosophy, mathematics, and theology, subsequently\nattending the usual course of lectures on canon and civil law in the\nRoman University. Previous to his appointment to the See of Armagh,\nthe Rector of the Irish College, in response to an enquiry of the\nSacred Congregation of Propaganda, presented the following honorable\ntestimony of the character and abilities of the future Primate:\n\n    \"I, the undersigned, certify that the Very Reverend\n    Dr. Oliver Plunket, of the diocese of Meath, in\n    the province of Armagh, in Ireland, is of Catholic\n    parentage, descended from an illustrious family; on\n    the father's side, from the most illustrious Earls of\n    Fingal; on the mother's side, from the most illustrious\n    Earls of Roscommon, being also connected by birth with\n    the most illustrious Oliver Plunket, Baron of Louth,\n    first nobleman of the diocese of Armagh; and in this\n    our Irish College he devoted himself with such ardor\n    to philosophy, theology, and mathematics, that in the\n    Roman College of the Society of Jesus he was justly\n    ranked among the foremost in talent, diligence, and\n    progress in his studies; these speculative studies\n    being completed, he pursued with abundant fruit the\n    course of civil and canon law under Mark Anthony\n    de Mariscotti, Professor of the Roman Sapienza,\n    and everywhere and at all times he was a model of\n    gentleness, integrity, and piety.\"\n\nHaving at length received his ordination in 1654, Dr. Plunket was\nobliged by the rules of the college either to proceed forthwith on\nthe Irish mission or to obtain leave from his superiors to remain to\nfurther perfect his studies. He chose the latter course, and at his\nown request the General of the Society of Jesus, to whom he applied,\npermitted him to enter San Girolamo della Charit\u00e0, where for three\nyears he quietly devoted himself to the accumulation of knowledge and\nthe duties of his sacred calling. Marangoni, in his life of Father\nCacciaguerra, speaks of Doctor Plunket's conduct while in that\nsecluded retreat in the following eulogistic terms:\n\n    \"Here it is incredible with what zeal he burned for the\n    salvation of souls. In the house itself, and in the\n    city, he wholly devoted himself to devout exercises;\n    frequently did he visit the sanctuaries steeped with\n    the blood of so many martyrs, and he ardently sighed\n    for the opportunity of sacrificing himself for the\n    salvation of his countrymen. He, moreover, frequented\n    the Hospital of Santo Spirito, and employed himself\n    even in the most abject ministrations, serving the poor\n    infirm, to the edification and wonder of the officials\n    and assistants of that place.\"\n\nThe disturbed condition of his native country has been alleged as\nthe cause of Dr. Plunket's delay in Rome, and this in itself would\nbe sufficient reason, if we reflect that at that time the soldiers\nof Cromwell were in full possession of every nook and corner of\nit, and that hundreds of priests, left without congregations, were\nobliged to fly for their lives to the Continent, or to seek refuge\nin mountains and morasses; but it is more than probable that the\nyoung ecclesiastic had an additional motive for remaining longer in\nthe Holy City, and, having a forecast of his future eminence in the\nchurch, and of the vast benefits he was capable of rendering to the\ncause of religion and his country, desired, as far as possible, to\nqualify himself for the glorious task to which he was afterwards\nassigned at the fountain-head of Catholicity, before undertaking a\nlabor which he must have known would be accompanied by many trials\nand dangers.\n\nBut even from the seclusion of San Girolamo his fame as an\naccomplished and profound scholar soon spread to the outer world,\nand in 1657 Dr. Plunket was appointed professor of theology and\ncontroversy in the College of the Propaganda, a position which he\nheld with great credit for twelve years, until his departure from\nRome. Though thus occupied in the responsible and laborious duties of\nhis professorship, he was also consultor of the Sacred Congregation\nof the Index and of other congregations. In the performance of the\nhigh trusts thus imposed upon him, the young professor was frequently\nbrought in contact with many of the most exalted personages of\nthe Roman Court, some of whom subsequently filled the chair of\nSt. Peter, from all of whom he experienced the greatest kindness\nand repeated proofs of affection, as he frequently mentions with\ngratitude in his correspondence. Still the confidence reposed in\nhim and the companionship of so many holy and erudite men failed to\nsatisfy the cravings of his soul or reconcile him to his enforced\nexile. Of a highly sensitive and even poetic nature, his patriotism\nand attachment to his family were second only to his love for\nlearning and religion, and his mind was constantly tormented by the\naccounts daily received in Rome of the barbarities practised on his\ncompatriots and co-religionists by the licentious soldiery of the\nEnglish Commonwealth. In writing to Father Spada, in 1656, on the\noccasion of the death of his friend and counsellor Father Scarampo,\nhe exclaims in the bitterness of his spirit:\n\n    \"God alone knows how afflicting his death is to me,\n    especially at the present time, when all Ireland is\n    overrun and laid waste by heresy. Of my relations, some\n    are dead, others have been sent into exile, and all\n    Ireland is reduced to extreme misery: this overwhelmed\n    me with an inexpressible sadness, for I am now deprived\n    of father and of friends, and I should die through\n    grief were I not consoled by the consideration that I\n    have not altogether lost Father Scarampo; for I may say\n    that he in part remains, our good God having retained\n    your reverence in life, who, as it is known to all,\n    were united with him in friendship and in charity\n    and in disposition, so as even to desire to be his\n    companion in death, from which, though God preserved\n    you, yet he did not deprive you of its merit.\"\n\nBut, notwithstanding his own afflictions, he was ever ready to succor\nby his slender purse and powerful influence such of his destitute\nyoung countrymen who sought an opportunity in Rome to procure an\neducation, of which they were so systematically deprived at home;\nand it was doubtless from a just perception of his great repute and\nthorough acquaintance with ecclesiastical affairs in Rome that, in\nthe early part of 1669, he was requested by the Irish bishops to\nact as their representative at the Papal Court, an office which he\ncheerfully accepted and filled to the entire satisfaction of his\nvenerable constituency.\n\nBut he was not long allowed to occupy this subordinate position in\nconnection with the church in Ireland, nor even to retain his chair\nin the Propaganda. He had now entered on his fortieth year, his mind\nfully developed and stored with all the sacred and profane learning\nbefitting one called to a higher destiny, and his soul imbued with\na zeal so holy and so far removed from worldly ambition that no\ntemptation was likely to overcome his faith, and no persecution,\nno matter how severe, to shake his constancy. He was therefore\nappointed Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of all Ireland, to\nsucceed Dr. Edmond O'Reilly, recently deceased in Paris. Like the\ngreat apostle of his country, of whom he was about to become the\nspiritual successor, he had spent a long probation in the society of\nmen remarkable for the purity of their lives and the extent of their\nknowledge, and as St. Patrick longed to revisit the land of his\nadoption, he also yearned to be once again among the Irish people.\nYet his appointment to the primacy of Ireland was neither sought nor\nanticipated by Dr. Plunket at this time, as we learn from a letter\nfrom the Archbishop of Dublin to Monsignor Baldeschi, Secretary of\nthe Propaganda, in which he says:\n\n    \"Certainly, no one could be appointed better suited\n    than Dr. Oliver Plunket, whom I myself would have\n    proposed in the first place, were it not that he had\n    written to me, stating his desire not to enter for\n    some years in the Irish mission, until he should have\n    completed some works which he was preparing for the\n    press.\"\n\nThe names of many clergymen distinguished for piety, devotion, and\nlearning had been forwarded to Rome, from which to select a fitting\nsuccessor to Dr. O'Reilly; but, while their various merits were under\ndiscussion, the Holy Father, Clement IX., it is said, simplified the\nmatter by suggesting Dr. Plunket as the person best qualified to\nfill the vacant see, and to govern by his experience and force of\ncharacter the hierarchy, and, through it, the priesthood of Ireland.\nThe views of the Pope met with unanimous approval, and, the selection\nbeing thus made, it was out of the power of Dr. Plunket, no matter\nhow diffident he might have been of his own abilities to fill so\nelevated a position, to decline. We have seen how this important\ndecision of the Sacred Congregation was viewed by Dr. Talbot, of\nDublin, and his opinions seemed to have been shared by all the\nbishops and priests in Ireland. Dr. O'Molony, of St. Sulpice, Paris,\nafterwards Bishop of Killaloe, writes:\n\n    \"You have already laid the foundations of our edifice,\n    erected the pillars, and given shepherds to feed the\n    sheep and the lambs; but, now that the work should\n    not remain imperfect, you have crowned the edifice,\n    and provided a pastor for the pastors themselves,\n    appointing the Archbishop of Armagh, for it is not\n    of the diocese of Armagh alone that he has the\n    administration, to whom the primacy and guardianship of\n    all Ireland is entrusted. One, therefore, in a thousand\n    had to be chosen, suited to bear so great a burden.\n    That one you have found--one than whom none other\n    better or more pleasing could be found; with whom (that\n    your wise solicitude for our distracted and afflicted\n    country should be wanting in nothing) you have been\n    pleased to associate his suffragan of Ardagh, a most\n    worthy and grave man.\"\n\nThe Bishop of Ferns, also, in addressing the Secretary of the Sacred\nCongregation, says: \"Applauding and rejoicing, I have hastened\nhither from Gand, to the Most Reverend and Illustrious Internunzio\nof Belgium, to return all possible thanks to our Holy Father, in the\nname of my countrymen, for having crowned with the mitre of Armagh\nthe noble and distinguished Oliver Plunket, Doctor of Theology;\"\nand Dr. Dowley, of Limerick, adds, \"Most pleasing to all was the\nappointment of Dr. Plunket, and I doubt not it will be agreeable to\nthe government, to the secular clergy, and to the nobility.\"\n\nThese warm expressions of esteem and regard, if known to the new\nprimate, must have inspired him with renewed courage to accept the\ngrave responsibilities imposed upon him, and truly, if ever man\nrequired the support of friends to nerve him to encounter dangers\nand unheard-of opposition, he did. But he seems to have had within\nhimself a courage not of this world, but superior to all earthly\nconsiderations. It is recorded on the very best authority that, when\nabout to leave Rome, he was thus accosted by an aged priest, \"My\nlord, you are now going to shed your blood for the Catholic faith.\"\nTo which he replied, \"I am unworthy of such a favor; nevertheless,\naid me with your prayers, that this my desire may be fulfilled.\"[108]\nThe condition of the country to which the primate was hastening\nfully justified this prophecy. It was to the last degree forlorn and\nfull of discouragement. The sufferings of the Irish people at this\nperiod defy description; and were it not that we have before us the\npenal acts of parliament, numerous authenticated state papers, and\nthe published statements of some of the highest officials of the\ncrown and the agents of the Commonwealth, we would be inclined to\nbelieve, if only for the credit of human nature, that the relation\nof the atrocities at this time perpetrated by English authority\non the Catholics of Ireland was the work of some diseased mind\nthat delighted in horrors and revelled in the contemplation of an\nimaginary pandemonium. The Tudors and the Stuarts as persecutors\nof Catholics were bad enough, but their ineffectual fires paled\nbefore the cool atrocity and sanctimonious villany of the followers\nof Cromwell; men, if we must call them such, who, arrogating to\nthemselves not only the honorable title of champions of human\nliberty, but claiming to be the exemplars of all that was left of\nwhat was pure and holy in this wicked world, perpetrated in the name\nof freedom and religion a series of such deeds of darkness that not\neven a parallel can be found for them in the annals of the worst days\nof the Roman emperors. So deep indeed has the detestation of the\nbarbarities of Cromwell taken root in the popular mind of Ireland,\nthat, though more than two centuries have elapsed since his death,\nhis name is as thoroughly and as heartily detested there to-day as\nif his crimes had been committed in our own generation. Previous to\nthe Reformation, though wars were frequent and oftentimes bloody\nbetween the English invaders and the natives, they were generally\nconducted in a certain spirit of chivalry and with some degree of\nmoderation, which usually characterize hostile Catholic nations even\nin times of the greatest excitement. Churches and the nurseries of\nlearning and charity were respected, or, if destroyed through the\nstern necessities of warfare, were apt to be replaced by others. But\nthe followers of the new religion knew no such charitable weakness,\nfor from the first they seemed actuated, probably as a punishment for\ntheir sin of wilful rebellion against the authority of God's law,\nwith an unquenchable hatred of everything holy, and a craftiness in\ndevising measures to destroy the faith and pervert the minds of the\nCatholics so preternatural in its ingenuity that we can only account\nfor it by supposing it the emanation of the enemy of mankind. That\nany people stripped of all worldly possessions, debarred so long\nfrom religious worship and the means of enlightenment, outlawed by\nthe so-called government, ensnared by the spy and the magistrate,\nand ground to dust beneath the hoofs of the trooper's horse, should\nnot only have preserved their existence and the faith, but have\nmultiplied amazingly, both at home and abroad, is one of the most\nremarkable incidents in all history, as well as one of the strongest\nproofs of the enduring and unconquerable spirit of Catholicity.\n\nThere were probably at this time in Ireland nearly a million and a\nhalf of Catholics, though Sir William Petty estimates their number\nat about 1,200,000; the native population having been fearfully\nreduced by the late war and the pestilence and famine which succeeded\nit, by the emigration of forty or fifty thousand able-bodied men\nto Spain and other countries, and by the deportation of an equal\nnumber of women and children, as slaves, to the West Indies and the\nBritish settlements on our Atlantic coast. Yet, notwithstanding the\nimmense loss of life occasioned soon after by the Williamite war,\nthe constant drain on the adult male population in the latter part\nof the seventeenth and the first half of the eighteenth centuries,\nto fill up the decimated ranks of the Catholic armies of Europe,\namounting, it is said, to three-quarters of a million, the periodical\nfamines to which the peasantry were constantly exposed, and the\ngreat famine of 1846-7 and 1848, which swept away at least two\nmillions, the Irish Catholics of to-day and their descendants in all\nquarters of the globe number at least fifteen million souls. It is\na singular and interesting fact that the Irish Catholics resident\nin London out-number the entire population of the city of Dublin;\nthat in the cities and towns of England and Scotland there are more\nCatholics of Irish birth than existed in every part of the world two\nhundred years ago; and that, while the children of St. Patrick count\nnearly five millions on the soil which he redeemed from paganism,\nmany more millions of them and their descendants born within the\npresent century are planting the cross of Christ everywhere in\nAmerica and Australasia. This indestructibility of the Irish race\nseems to have raised an insurmountable barrier against the designs\nof the reformers. James I. having planted part of Ulster with some\nsuccess, the Long Parliament determined to follow his example on a\nmore comprehensive scale, and to utterly exterminate the people who\npersisted in adhering to their ancient faith. Accordingly, in 1654,\nall Catholics were ordered under the severest penalties to remove\nbefore a certain day from the provinces of Ulster, Leinster, and\nMunster, and take up their abodes in Connaught, the least fertile\nand most inaccessible division of the island. In their front a\nstrip of land some miles in width, following the sinuosity of the\nsea-coast, and another in their rear along the line of the Shannon,\nwere reserved for the victors and protected by a cordon of military\nposts, the penalty of passing which, without special license, was\ndeath. Thus encompassed by the stormy Atlantic and the broad river,\nwith an inner belt of hostile settlements, it was fondly hoped that\nthe remnant of the gallant Irish nation, completely segregated from\nthe world, would speedily perish, unnoticed and unknown, among the\nsterile mountains of the west. A more diabolical attempt on the lives\nof a whole people is not to be found recorded in either ancient or\nmodern history, and, to do but justice to the canting fanatics who\nconceived the plan, no means were left untried to carry it out to a\nsuccessful issue. But Providence, with whose designs the Cromwellians\nassumed to be well acquainted, decreed otherwise, and no sooner\nhad their leader sunk into a dishonored grave, and the legitimate\nsovereign been restored to the throne, than every part of the country\nswarmed again with Catholics, who seemed to spring, as if by magic,\nfrom the very soil. The people, it was found, had actually increased\nin numbers, and the clergy, who it was supposed had been effectually\ndestroyed by expatriation, famine, or the sword, still amounted to\nover sixteen hundred seculars and regulars, as devoted as ever to\nthe spiritual interests of their flocks.\n\nThe restoration of Charles II. in 1660 was hailed by the Catholics\nas a favorable omen. They had faithfully supported his father, and\nhad lost all in defending his own cause, and hence they naturally\nexpected, if not gratitude, at least simple justice. But Charles was\na true Stuart. Opposed to persecution from a constitutional love of\nease and pleasure, as much as from any innate sense of right, he\nhad neither the capacity to plan a reform nor the manhood to carry\nout the tolerant designs of others. He was, moreover, weak-minded,\nvacillating, and insincere, more disposed to conciliate his enemies\nby gifts and honors than to reward his well-tried friends by the\ncommonest acts of justice. The greatest favor that the Catholics\ncould obtain was a toleration of their worship in remote and secret\nplaces, and even this qualified boon was dependent on the whim of the\nviceroy, and was soon withdrawn at the command of parliament.\n\nBut the evils of the English Protestant system did not stop here.\nThe death or involuntary exile of most of the Irish bishops and the\ndispersion of the clergy created a relaxation of ecclesiastical\ndiscipline, particularly among the regulars, and the impossibility of\nobtaining proper religious instruction at home, and the difficulty of\nprocuring it elsewhere, necessarily lowered the standard of education\namong the priests of all ranks. Left for the most part to their own\nguidance, and only imperfectly trained for the ministry, many friars,\nparticularly of the Order of St. Francis, so illustrious for its many\ndistinguished scholars and eloquent preachers, were disposed to rebel\nagainst their superiors when the least restraint was placed upon\ntheir irregular modes of living, and some were found base enough\nto lend the weight attached to their sacred calling to further the\ndesigns of the worst enemies of their creed and country. Ormond and\nother so-called statesmen, while avowing unqualified loyalty to their\nsovereign and a secret attachment to the church, were insidiously\nbetraying the one by placing him in a false position before Catholics\nand Protestants, while vainly endeavoring to strike a blow at the\nother by using these apostates to create a schism in her ranks. In\nthe latter scheme they signally failed, and their defeat was mainly\ndue to the untiring energy and profound foresight of the Archbishop\nof Armagh during the ten years of his administration. The very\nannouncement of Dr. Plunket's appointment seems to have struck terror\ninto the secret enemies of the church in Ireland, and to have given\nnew hope to the friends of religion. This event occurred on the 9th\nof July, 1669, when the bulls for his consecration were immediately\nforwarded to the Internunzio at Brussels. Dr. Plunket was desirous\nof receiving the mitre in Rome, and even made a strong request to\nbe granted that privilege, but the prudential motives which induced\nthe Sacred Congregation to select Belgium in the first instance\nstill remained, and the favor was reluctantly refused. As his first\nact of obedience, the archbishop bowed cheerfully to this decision,\nand after presenting his little vineyard, his only real property,\nand a few books to the Irish College, he bade a final adieu to his\nRoman friends in the following month, and commenced his homeward\njourney--his first step to a glorious immortality. He arrived during\nNovember in the capital of Belgium, and was cordially welcomed by the\nInternunzio, who was not unacquainted with his extensive learning\nand unaffected piety. At the request of that prelate, the Bishop of\nGhent consented to administer consecration to Dr. Plunket, and the\nsolemn ceremony was duly performed on the 30th of November, in the\nprivate chapel of the episcopal palace in that ancient city. Dr.\nNicholas French, Bishop of Ferns, one of the few persons present on\nthe occasion, thus describes it:\n\n    \"I present a concise narrative of the consecration\n    of the most illustrious Archbishop of Armagh. His\n    excellency the Internunzio wrote most kind letters\n    to the bishop of this diocese requesting him to\n    perform it, and he most readily acquiesced. But I,\n    on receiving this news, set out at once for Brussels\n    to conduct hither his Grace of Armagh, bound by\n    gratitude to render him this homage. A slight fever\n    seized our excellent bishop on the Saturday before the\n    Twenty-fourth Sunday after Pentecost, which had been\n    fixed for Dr. Plunket's consecration; wherefore that\n    ceremony was deferred till the first Sunday in Advent,\n    on which day it was devoutly and happily performed in\n    the capella of the palace, without noise, and with\n    closed doors, for such was the desire of the Archbishop\n    of Armagh. Remaining here for eight days after his\n    consecration, he passed his time in despatching letters\n    and examining my writings.\"\n\nAfter this short delay, the Primate continued his journey, stopping\nlong enough in London to see his friends at the English court, and\nto present his credentials to the Queen, who was a devout Catholic,\nand who received him with great cordiality. He had also leisure to\nbecome somewhat conversant with the policy and views of the leading\npublic characters in the English capital, and to study the workings\nand temper of the parliament. After a tedious and fatiguing journey,\nhe at length landed in Ireland, in March, 1670, having been absent\nfrom that country a quarter of a century, where he was joyously\nreceived by his numerous relatives and friends. Great was the\nchange which had been wrought in his life during those twenty-five\nyears, but, alas! how much greater had been the alteration in the\ncircumstances of his countrymen. As a lad he had left them in the\nfull enjoyment of their religion in almost every part of the island,\ntheir nobility in the possession of their estates, the peasantry and\nfarmers prosperous, the clergy respected and freely obeyed, and all\nfull of hope for the future, and sanguine of yet attaining their\nindependence. As an archbishop and primate, he returned to find\nnothing but desolation and ruin, sorrow and dejection. The nobility\nhad either been banished or reduced to the condition of mere tenants\non their own property, so that only three Catholic gentlemen in the\nprovince of Armagh, which embraces eleven dioceses, held any real\nestate; the original cultivators of the soil who had been spared by\nthe sword and had not been transported or compelled to emigrate were\nformed into bands of plunderers, and infested the highways under the\nname of _tories_, while such as remained of the bishops and clergy\nwere to be found only in bogs and mountains or in the most obscure\nportions of the larger towns and cities.\n\nUndaunted by the scenes of woe and destruction around him, the\nPrimate, like a diligent servant of God, had no sooner set foot on\nhis native soil than he proceeded to the performance of his pastoral\nlabors. Writing to Cardinal Barberini, Protector of Ireland, an\naccount of his journey from Rome, he says:\n\n    \"I afterwards arrived in Ireland in the month of\n    March, and hastened immediately to my residence; and\n    I held two synods and two ordinations, and in a month\n    and a-half I administered confirmation to more than\n    ten thousand persons, though throughout my province\n    I think there yet remain more than fifty thousand\n    persons to be confirmed. I remarked throughout the\n    country, wherever I went, that for every heretic there\n    are twenty Catholics. The new viceroy is a man of\n    great moderation; he willingly receives the Catholics,\n    and he treats privately with the ecclesiastics, and\n    promises them protection while they attend to their\n    own functions without intriguing in the affairs of\n    government.\"\n\nThe nobleman here alluded to was Lord Berkeley, who held office in\nIreland for a few years, and under whose politic and tolerant, if\nnot very sincere, administration the Catholics enjoyed at least\ncomparative security. Personally, he, as well as his successor,\nLord Essex, entertained a very high respect for the primate, and\ntreated him with great kindness, when it was possible to do so\nwithout incurring the displeasure of the ultra-Protestant faction.\nIndeed, Archbishop Plunket, well aware of the difficulties which\nconstantly beset his path, and feeling the futility of defying the\ngovernment authorities, set his mind from the first to conciliate\nthose whom he knew had the power to thwart or second his efforts,\nwithout yielding anything of his episcopal dignity or compromising\nhis character as an ardent patriot. His long probationary course in\nRome and his intimate association with so many of the best and most\naccomplished minds at the Papal court must have eminently qualified\nhim for dealing with the leading British officials in Ireland. In his\nvoluminous correspondence with the Holy See, he frequently alludes to\nhis interviews with the lord-lieutenant and other noblemen, and to\nthe judicious use he was able to make of his influence with them for\nthe benefit of his less fortunate or more demonstrative brethren in\nthe ministry. In a letter addressed to Pope Clement, dated June 20,\n1670, he says:\n\n    \"Our viceroy is a man of great moderation and equity:\n    he looks on the Catholics with benevolence, and treats\n    privately with some of the clergy, exhorting them to\n    act with discretion; and for this purpose he secretly\n    called me to his presence on many occasions, and\n    promised me his assistance in correcting any members of\n    the clergy of scandalous life. I discover in him some\n    spark of religion, and I find that many even of the\n    leading members of his court are secretly Catholics.\"\n\nAgain, to Dr. Brennan, his successor as Irish agent, he writes:\n\n    \"In the province of Armagh, the clergy and Catholics\n    enjoy a perfect peace. The Earl of Charlemont, being\n    friendly with me, defends me in every emergency.\n    Being once in the town of Dungannon to administer\n    confirmation, and the governor of the place having\n    prevented me from doing so, the earl not only severely\n    reproved the governor, but told me to go to his own\n    palace, when I pleased, to give confirmation or to say\n    Mass there if I wished. The magistrate of the city of\n    Armagh, having made an order to the effect that all\n    Catholics should accompany him to the heretical service\n    every Sunday, under penalty of half-a-crown per head\n    for each time they would absent themselves, I appealed\n    to the president of the province against this decree,\n    and he cancelled it, and commanded that neither clergy\n    nor Catholic laity should be molested.\"\n\nIt is not, however, to be supposed from these isolated instances of\ntoleration that the new primate was allowed the full exercise of\nhis functions in the land of his nativity, and where his flock so\nvastly outnumbered their opponents. On the contrary, we learn from\na letter of Lord Conway to his brother-in-law, Sir George Rawdon,\nthat even before Dr. Plunket reached Ireland orders had been issued\nby the lord-lieutenant for his arrest as being one of \"two persons\nsent from Rome, that lie lurking in the country to do mischief;\" and\neven when he had taken possession of his see, his labors for the\nmost part were performed in secret or in the night time. This was\nmore particularly so after 1673, when the persecution was renewed\nagainst the Catholics, that we have his own authority and that of his\ncompanion in suffering, Dr. Brennan, Bishop of Waterford, for saying\nthat at the most tempestuous times he was obliged to seek safety by\nflight, and frequently to expose himself to the horrors of a northern\nwinter and almost to starvation in order to be amid his people, and\nready to administer spiritual consolation to them.\n\n    \"The viceroy,\" he says, writing in January, 1664, \"on\n    the 10th or thereabouts of this month, published a\n    further proclamation that the registered clergy should\n    be treated with the greatest rigor. Another but secret\n    order was given to all the magistrates and sheriffs\n    that the detectives should seek out, both in the\n    cities and throughout the country, the other bishops\n    and regulars. I and my companions no sooner received\n    intelligence of this than, on the 18th of this month,\n    which was Sunday, after vespers, being the festival\n    of the Chair of St. Peter, we deemed it necessary to\n    take to our heels; the snow fell heavily mixed with\n    hail-stones, which were very hard and large; a cutting\n    north wind blew in our faces, and the snow and hail\n    beat so dreadfully in our eyes that to the present we\n    have been scarcely able to see with them. Often we were\n    in danger in the valleys of being lost and suffocated\n    in the snow, till at length we arrived at the house of\n    a reduced gentleman, who had nothing to lose; but for\n    our misfortune he had a stranger in his house, by whom\n    we did not wish to be recognized; hence we were placed\n    in a large garret without chimney and without fire,\n    where we have been during the past eight days. May\n    it redound to the glory of God, the salvation of our\n    souls, and the flocks entrusted to our charge!\"\n\nSo great indeed was the danger of discovery at this time, and so\nwatchful were the emissaries of the law, that he was compelled to\nwrite most of his foreign letters over the assumed signature of \"Mr.\nThomas Cox,\" and was usually addressed by that name in reply. He even\ntells us that he was sometimes obliged to go about the performance of\nhis duties in the disguise of a cavalier with cocked hat and sword.\n\nDr. Plunket is represented by his contemporaries as a man of\ndelicate physical organization, highly sensitive in his temperament,\nand disposed naturally to prefer the seclusion of the closet to\nthe excitement and turmoil of the world. The contrast between the\nscholastic retirement in which he had spent so many years of his\nlife, and the circumstances by which he now found himself surrounded,\nmust have been indeed striking, but like a true disciple he did\nnot hesitate a moment in entering on his new sphere of usefulness.\nShortly after his arrival in Dublin, on the 17th of June, 1670,\nhe called together and presided over a general synod of the Irish\nbishops, at which several important statutes were passed, as well\nas an address to the new viceroy declaring the loyalty and homage,\nin all things temporal, of the hierarchy of Ireland to the reigning\nsovereign. Two synods of his own clergy had already been held, and\nin September following a provincial council of Ulster met at Clones,\nwhich not only reaffirmed the decrees of the synod of Dublin, but\nenacted many long required reforms in discipline and the manner\nof life of the clergy. In a letter from the assembled clergy of\nthe province of Armagh, date October 8, 1670, and addressed to\nMonsignor Baldeschi, they thus speak of the untiring labors of their\nmetropolitan:\n\n    \"In the diocese of Armagh, Kilmore, Clogher, Derry,\n    Down, Connor, and Dromore, although far separated from\n    each other, he administered confirmation to thousands\n    in the woods and mountains, heedless of winds and\n    rain. Lately, too, he achieved a work from which great\n    advantage will be derived by the Catholic body, for\n    there were many of the more noble families who had\n    lost their properties, and, being proclaimed outlaws\n    in public edicts, were subsequently guilty of many\n    outrages; those by his admonitions he brought back\n    to a better course; he moreover obtained pardon for\n    their crimes, and not only procured this pardon for\n    themselves, but also for their receivers, and thus\n    hundreds and hundreds of Catholic families have been\n    freed from imminent danger to their body and soul and\n    properties.\"\n\nBut the good pastor was not contented with these extended labors\namong the laity. To make his reforms permanent and beneficial,\nhe felt that he should commence with the clergy, who as a body\nhad always been faithful to their sacred trust, but, owing to\nthe disturbed state of the country for so many years past, had\nbeen unable to perform their allotted duties with that exactness\nand punctuality so desirable in the presence of a watchful and\nunscrupulous enemy. He therefore ordained many young students, whom\nhe found qualified for the ministry, and, taking advantage of the\ntemporary cessation of espionage consequent on the arrival of Lord\nBerkeley, he established a college in Drogheda, in which he soon had\none hundred and sixty pupils and twenty-five ecclesiastics, under the\ncare of three learned Jesuit fathers. The expenses of this school he\ndefrayed out of his slender means, never more than sixty pounds per\nannum, and frequently not one-fifth of that sum, with the exception\nof 150 scudi (less than forty pounds sterling), annually allowed by\nthe Sacred Congregation of Propaganda. When, in 1674, the penal laws\nwere again put in force in all their original ferocity of spirit, the\ncollege was of course broken up; but Dr. Plunket in his letters to\nRome was never tired of impressing on the minds of the authorities\nthere the necessity of affording Irish students more ample facilities\nfor affording a thorough education. His suggestions in regard to the\nIrish College at Rome, by which a larger number of students might\nbe accommodated without increased expense, though not acted upon at\nthe time, have since been carried out, and it was principally at his\ninstance that the Irish institutions in Spain, previously monopolized\nby young men from certain dioceses of Ireland only, were thrown open\nto all.\n\nIn the latter part of 1671, we find Dr. Plunket on a mission to the\nHebrides, where the people, the descendants of the ancient Irish\ncolonists, still preserved their Gaelic language, and received him\nwith all the gratitude and enthusiasm of the Celtic nature. In 1674,\nnotwithstanding the storm of persecution then raging over the island,\nhe made a lengthy tour through the province of Tuam, and in the\nfollowing year we have a detailed report of his visitation to the\neleven dioceses in his own province, every one of which, no matter\nhow remote or what was the personal risk, he took pains to inspect,\nbringing peace and comfort in his footsteps, and leaving behind him\nthe tears and prayers of his appreciative children.\n\nIf we add to this multiplicity of occupations the further one of\nbeing the chief and almost only regular correspondent of the Sacred\nCongregation of Propaganda in the three kingdoms, we may presume that\nthe primate's life in Ireland was fully and advantageously occupied.\nThe number of his letters to Rome on every subject of importance is\nimmense, when we consider the difficulty and danger of communication\nin those days. He was also in constant correspondence with London,\nParis, and Brussels, and, though he sometimes complains of the\nweakness of his eyesight, caused doubtless by exposure and change\nof climate, he frequently regrets more his poverty, which did not\nenable him to pay the postage on all occasions. At one time, indeed,\nhe avers that all the food he is able to procure for himself is \"a\nlittle oaten bread and some milk and water.\"\n\nThe last important act of the primate was the convocation of a\nprovincial synod at Ardpatrick, in August, 1678, at which were\npresent the bishops or vicars-general and apostolic of all the\ndioceses of Ulster. Many decrees of a general and special nature were\nthere passed with great solemnity, and upon being sent to Rome were\nduly approved. It was upon this occasion that the representatives\nof the suffragan diocese of Armagh, deeply impressed and edified as\nthey were by the labors and sanctity of their archbishop, addressed\na joint letter to the Sacred Congregation, eloquently describing the\nextent and good effect of his constant solicitude for his spiritual\ncharge.\n\n    \"We therefore declare (say those venerable men) that\n    the aforesaid Most Illustrious Metropolitan has labored\n    much, exercising his sacred functions not only in\n    his own but also in other dioceses; during the late\n    persecution he abandoned not the flock entrusted to\n    him, though he was exposed to extreme danger of losing\n    his life; he erected schools, and provided masters\n    and teachers, that the clergy and youth might be\n    instructed in literature, piety, cases of conscience,\n    and other matters relating to their office; he held two\n    provincial councils, in which salutary decrees were\n    enacted for the reformation of morals; he, moreover,\n    rewarded the good and punished the bad, as far as\n    circumstances and the laws of the kingdom allowed;\n    he labored much, and not without praise, in preaching\n    the word of God; he instructed the people by word and\n    example; he also exercised hospitality so as to excite\n    the admiration of all, although he scarcely received\n    annually two hundred crowns from his diocese; and he\n    performed all other things which became an archbishop\n    and metropolitan, as far as they could be done in this\n    kingdom. In fine, to our great service and consolation,\n    he renewed, or rather established anew, at great\n    expense, correspondence with the Holy See, which, for\n    many years before his arrival, had become extinct. For\n    all which things we acknowledge ourselves indebted\n    to his Holiness and to your Eminences, who, by your\n    solicitude provided for us so learned and vigilant a\n    metropolitan, and we shall ever pray the Divine Majesty\n    to preserve his holiness and your Eminences.\"\n\nHad the distinguished body of ecclesiastics who thus voluntarily\ntestified to the merits of their archbishop anticipated the awful\ncatastrophe that was soon to remove him from them and from the world,\nthey could not have epitomized his career in more truthful and\nconcise language for the benefit of posterity. The end, however, was\nnow at hand. In the same year that the provincial synod was held, the\npersecution against the Catholics, intermittent like those of the\nearly ages of the church, broke out with redoubled violence. Forced\nto the most extreme measures by the parliament, the English court\nsent the strictest orders to Ireland to have arrested and removed\nfrom the country the entire body of the bishops and the clergy. The\nstatute of 2d Elizabeth, declaring it _pr\u00e6munire_ or imprisonment\nand confiscation for any person to exercise the authority of bishop\nor priest in her dominions, was revived, and liberal rewards for\nthe discovery of such offenders were publicly offered, to stimulate\nthe energy of that class of spies known as \"priest-hunters.\" Dr.\nTalbot, Archbishop of Dublin, was arrested and thrown into prison,\nwhere during a long confinement he languished and finally died. Dr.\nCreagh, Bishop of Limerick, the Archbishop of Tuam, and several of\nthe inferior clergy, were also imprisoned and subjected to many\nannoyances and indignities previous to being expelled the kingdom.\nDr. Plunket, who hoped that the storm would soon blow over, while\nprudently seeking a place of safety in a remote part of his diocese,\nfrequently avowed his determination never to forsake his flock until\ncompelled to do so by superior force. Learning, however, of the\ndangerous illness of his relative and former patron, Dr. Patrick\nPlunket, he cautiously left his concealment, and hastened to Dublin,\nto be with the good old bishop during his last moments, and it was\nin that city, on the 6th of December, 1679, that he was discovered\nand apprehended by order of the viceroy. For the first six months\nafter his arrest he was confined in Dublin Castle, part of the time a\nclose prisoner, but, as the only charge openly preferred against him\nwas, to use the expression of one of his relatives, \"only for being\na Catholic bishop, and for not having abandoned the flock of our\nLord in obedience to the edict published by parliament,\" and as the\npunishment for this at the worst was expatriation, his friends did\nnot fear for his life. They were not aware then that a conspiracy had\nbeen formed against him by some apostate friars under the patronage\nof the infamous Earl of Shaftesbury, the leader of the English\nfanatics, with the object of accusing him of high treason, and thus\ncompassing his death. On the 24th of July following, he was sent\nunder guard to Dundalk for trial; but so monstrous were the charges\nof treason against him, and so thoroughly was his character for\nmoderation and loyalty known to all, that, though the jury consisted\nexclusively of Protestants, his accusers dared not appear against\nhim, and he was consequently remitted back to Dublin. But his enemies\non both sides of the Channel were thirsting for his blood, and, in\nOctober, 1680, he was removed to London, ostensibly to answer before\nthe king and parliament, but, actually, to undergo the mockery of\na trial in a country in which no offense was even alleged to have\nbeen committed, where the infamous character of his accusers was\nunknown, and where he was completely isolated from his friends. The\nresult could not be doubtful. Without counsel or witnesses, in the\npresence of prejudiced judges and perjured witnesses, and surrounded\nby the hooting of a London mob, he was found guilty, and, on the\n14th of June, 1681, he was sentenced to be executed at Tyburn, a\njudgment which was carried out on the 11th of July following, with\nall the barbaric ceremonies of the period. During the trial and on\nthe scaffold, his bearing was singularly noble and courageous, so\nmuch so, indeed, that many who beheld him, and who shared the violent\nanti-Catholic prejudices of the hour, were satisfied of his perfect\ninnocence. He repeatedly and emphatically denied all complicity in\nthe treasonable plots laid to his charge, but openly declared that\nhe had acted as a Catholic bishop, and had spent many years of his\nlife in preaching and teaching God's word to his countrymen. His life\nin prison between the passing and the execution of the sentence is\nbest described by a fellow-prisoner, the learned Benedictine, Father\nCorker, who had the privilege of being with him in his last hours.\nIn his narrative, he says:\n\n    \"He continually endeavored to improve and advance\n    himself in the purity of divine love, and by\n    consequence also in contrition for his sins past;\n    of his deficiency in both which this humble soul\n    complained to me as the only thing that troubled him.\n    This love had extinguished in him all fear of death.\n    _Perfecta charitas foras mittit timorem_: a lover\n    feareth not, but rejoiceth at the approach of the\n    beloved. Hence, the joy of our holy martyr seemed still\n    to increase with his danger, and was fully accomplished\n    by an assurance of death. The very night before he\n    died, being now, as it were, at heart's ease, he went\n    to bed at eleven o'clock, and slept quietly and soundly\n    till four in the morning, at which time his man,\n    who lay in the room with him, awaked him; so little\n    concern had he upon his spirit, or, rather, so much\n    had the loveliness of the end beautified the horror\n    of the passage to it. After he certainly knew that\n    God Almighty had chosen him to the crown and dignity\n    of martyrdom, he continually studied how to divest\n    himself of himself, and become more and more an entire\n    and perfect holocaust, to which end, as he gave up his\n    soul, with all its faculties, to the conduct of God,\n    so, for God's sake, he resigned the care and disposal\n    of his body to unworthy me, etc. But I neither can nor\n    dare undertake to describe unto you the signal virtues\n    of this blessed martyr. There appeared in him something\n    beyond expression--something more than human; the most\n    savage and hard-hearted people were mollified and\n    attendered at his sight.\"\n\nAbout two years afterward, this pious clergyman, upon being\nliberated, disinterred the body of the late primate, and had it\nforwarded to the convent of his order at Lambspring in Germany;\nthe trunk and legs he had buried in the churchyard attached to that\ninstitution, and the right arm and head he preserved in separate\nreliquaries. The former is still preserved in the Benedictine\nConvent; the latter is in Dundalk, in the Convent of St. Catharine\nof Sienna, a nunnery founded by the favorite niece of the martyred\nprelate.\n\nDr. Plunket's judicial murder was the source of great grief to the\nfriends of the church throughout Europe, and even many contemporary\nProtestant writers expressed their regret at his unmerited\nsufferings, while the unfortunate agents of his death, becoming\noutcasts and wanderers, generally ended their lives on the scaffold\nor in abject poverty, bemoaning their crimes, to the pity and horror\nof Christendom. The memory of Dr. Plunket, one of the most learned\nand heroic of the long line of Irish bishops, is sacredly and\nlovingly preserved in his own country and in the general annals of\nthe church; and let us hope, in the language of the Rev. Monsignor\nMoran, who has done so much by his researches to perpetuate the name\nand fame of his glorious countryman, \"that the day is not now far\ndistant when our long-afflicted church will be consoled with the\nsolemn declaration of the Vicar of Christ, that he who, in the hour\nof trial, was the pillar of the house of God in our country, and who\nso nobly sealed with his blood the doctrines of our faith, may be\nranked among the martyrs of our holy church.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[107] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[108] Marangoni: _Life of the Servant of God_, Father Buonsignore\nCacciaguerra.\n\n\n\n\nMARY CLIFFORD'S PROMISE KEPT.\n\n\nIt was the day after a storm. The morning had been cool, almost\ncold; banks of cloud were piled up on the horizon; the summits of\nthe friendly Franconias were shrouded; the White Mountains were\ninvisible, and the wind whistled and howled, reminding one of \"the\nmelancholy days\" to come. By afternoon, however, there was a change.\nEvery cloud had magically disappeared, the wind had gone down,\nfields and young maples seemed to have renewed their early green,\nand everything stood out in clear relief, bathed and steeped in\nSeptember sunshine. Not a red-letter day, but a golden day; one to be\nremembered.\n\nI believe I shall remember it all my life, even if there should be\ndays as bright and far happier in store for me. I was in an open\nbuggy with a gentleman named Mr. Grey, I driving and he calling my\nattention to one thing after another, and both of us rejoicing in\na light-hearted way in the sun, and sky, and yellow leaves, and\nroadside trees laden with crimson plums; in the golden-rod, and\npurple asters, and the bee-hives, and picturesque, bare-footed,\nwhite-headed children; and in ourselves and each other, and in our\nyouth and strength; and in the sunny present, and the mysterious,\nenchanted future.\n\n\"I never knew the animal go so well before,\" said Mr. Grey; \"you seem\nto understand how to make him do his best. Only remember that the\nfaster we go, the sooner we shall get home. Will you not sacrifice\nyour fancy for fast driving, to my enjoyment of the drive? Give me\ntime to realize how much I enjoy it.\"\n\n\"You always seem to feel as if stopping to think about it will make\nthe time go slower,\" I said.\n\n\"It does to me, I assure you, at least at the moment. Yet I do not\nfind, in looking back, that this past month has flown any less fast,\nfor all my little arts to detain it. Here comes the stage, crowded as\nusual, inside and out. I wonder whether we make a part of the picture\nto them, and whether they will remember us with it? The mountains\nbefore them--look back, Miss Clifford, and see; that crimson maple on\nyour side of the road; and this green hill with its firs and rocks on\nmine.\"\n\nI laughed. \"I don't believe they will ever think of us again.\"\n\n\"Then they are not appreciative. Don't think I mean to take any of\ntheir supposed notice to myself, except so far as I am with you. To\nme, all the rest, all that we can see and admire, is the frame, the\nsetting as it were, to your face. It has been so ever since I came\nhere.\"\n\nI found this somewhat embarrassing, of course, though Mr. Grey spoke\nin a simple, matter-of-fact way, that had the effect of veiling the\ncompliment. He did not seem to expect an answer, and continued,\n\"That reminds me of 'In Memoriam.' Do you recall the lines about the\n'diffusive power'?\"\n\n\"No; I don't know what you mean. Repeat them, won't you?\"\n\n\"I have no doubt you will find them familiar, yet I will repeat\nthem, because I like them so much.\" And he recited these lines, which\nI write down, because they bring before me the whole scene, and I\nseem to hear again the low voice and the appreciating accent with\nwhich he spoke:\n\n      \"Thy voice is on the rolling air;\n        I hear thee where the waters run:\n        Thou standest in the rising sun,\n      And in the setting thou art fair.\n\n      \"What art thou, then? I cannot guess;\n        But, though I seem in star and flower\n        To feel thee some diffusive power,\n      I do not therefore love thee less.\n\n      \"My love involves the love before;\n        My love is vaster passion now;\n        Though mixed with God and nature thou,\n      I seem to love thee more and more.\n\n      \"Far off thou art, but ever nigh;\n        I have thee still, and I rejoice,\n        I prosper, circled with thy voice;\n      I shall not lose thee, though I die.\"\n\n\"Can you imagine feeling so about any one?\" asked Mr. Grey.\n\n\"I can imagine it. Do you suppose that Mr. Tennyson's friend was\nreally so much to him?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" he said gravely. \"I'll tell you, Miss Clifford, what I\nthink about that. It is not right to feel so about anybody, because\nthat is exactly the way we ought to feel about God. Don't you see\nthat it is? If everything reminded us of him, it would be just right.\"\n\n\"I can't believe it would be possible to make God so personal to us.\nWe think naturally of what we know and have seen, not of what we\nmerely believe in.\"\n\n\"Ah! but God may be 'personal to us,' as you say. You forget that he\nis near us, with us, and even in us. That would be the only way, it\nseems to me, of loving him with our mind, and soul, and strength,\nbecause we can't help loving all this beauty in everything. Just as\nTennyson says,\n\n      'My love involves the love before,\n      I seem to love thee more and more.'\"\n\nThere was a bough of deep-red leaves overhead, and I looked longingly\nat it, for they were just the color that I liked to wear in my hair;\nyet I did not want to ask for it, lest Mr. Grey should think that I\nhad not been attending to him. He must have seen the look, though,\nfor he jumped out of the buggy and ran up the bank to get the branch.\nI stopped the horse, thinking, as I watched the capturing of the\nprize, \"I might have known my wish would be anticipated. Every one\nbut he waits to be asked and thanked.\" When he came back, I told him\nI was tired of driving, and asked him to take the reins.\n\n\"May I spin the drive out?\" he asked. \"You are not in a hurry to have\nit over, are you? Do you know it is the only time we have ever driven\ntogether?\"\n\n\"Why, I thought we had taken a great many other drives. What are you\nthinking of?\"\n\n\"We have driven often, as you say, with parties of other people, but\nhave we ever taken a drive by ourselves before?\"\n\n\"No,\" I returned; \"you are right.\"\n\n\"It is a part of the whole,\" continued he. \"I have been in a kind of\ndream for a month. I dread the awakening, though everything reminds\nme of it now. It has been a new experience to me, this boarding\nwith other people and seeing them so familiarly. There is no way\nof getting into easy and friendly relations with others in a very\nshort space of time so effective as this; and, as the household has\nhappened to be a very pleasant one, I have enjoyed the experiment\ngreatly; though it is strange to think that I may never see any of\nour number again.\"\n\n\"You are really very flattering, Mr. Grey,\" I said, a little hurt.\n\"Then I am never to see you again! I am glad you have given me\nwarning, or I might have invited you to visit us in Boston, next\nwinter.\"\n\n\"You are kind, very kind,\" he answered hastily; \"nothing would give\nme greater pleasure than to meet you, but I shall not be in America\nnext winter. I hope to be in Rome.\"\n\n\"Really!\" I exclaimed. \"Why are you going to Rome? To be a priest?\"\n\n\"No, I am not so fortunate as to have that vocation. I am going\nabroad to try to find a wife, singular as it may appear.\"\n\n\"It does seem strange that a man with such strong American feelings\nas you should wish to have a foreign wife.\"\n\n\"I want to marry a Catholic,\" he said, switching off the tops of the\ngolden-rod with the whip.\n\n\"And are there no Catholic wives to be obtained here?\" I asked,\nsmiling.\n\n\"No doubt; though I have not yet found the one I am looking for.\nAmong converts there are girls who suffer for their faith, who\nare called upon to make sacrifices, to lose position, and the\napprobation, even the affection, of their friends. 'It is so odd!'\nthey say, 'so unnecessary, to break away from early associations,\nand from forms of worship which have been sufficient for all their\nfriends--and very good people too--and embrace a foreign religion.'\nHaven't you heard such remarks?\"\n\nI acknowledged that I had, adding, \"And I don't wonder at it.\"\n\n\"Among these brave girls,\" he continued, not noticing my remark, \"one\nmeets heroism, fervor, and a practical recommendation of the religion\nfor which they are proud to suffer; but I also want to see what I\nshall find in other countries--women who have grown up in a Catholic\natmosphere, and acquired their faith unconsciously, as the breath of\ntheir lives. These have developed into beautiful forms of grace and\npiety, as delicate as flowers, and, like them, breathing innocence\nand purity such as no other education can give or even preserve.\"\n\n\"Do you mean to say that innocence and purity cannot be found among\nProtestant girls?\" I asked sarcastically.\n\n\"I am sure I hope they can,\" he answered earnestly; \"yet do not be\noffended if I say, not in the same degree. You cannot conceive,\nMiss Clifford, of the beauty of a soul which has been guarded and\nsustained from infancy by the graces and sacraments of the church,\nand has kept its baptismal whiteness without stain. It is not often\nfound, even within the church, and is, I believe, nearly impossible\noutside it.\"\n\n\"I hope you'll find this angel next winter. Please let me know when\nyou discover her, for I should like to see her.\"\n\nHe was silent, and as I was thinking about a good many things, we\ndrove on very quietly for some time.\n\nIt may seem strange that I should remember so well what Mr. Grey\nsaid to me that golden September afternoon, and as I think I know\nthe reason of it, I will write it down as frankly as I have written\nthe description of our drive so far, and as I mean to put down all I\nrecall of it to the end.\n\nMr. Grey had boarded for a month in the same house with me and\nmy sister, and a dozen other people, all of whom we met for the\nfirst time. My sister and I were the only persons whose society he\nseemed to seek, and as she, not being strong, was obliged to keep\nquiet, I had seen more of him than any one else. He was very polite\nand pleasant to every one, and the whole household liked him;\nyet he never talked to the other ladies as he did to me, nor paid\nthem the same watchful little attentions. He thought me pretty,\nand had a curious, unconscious way of alluding to it that did not\nseem offensive like common flattery, and there was a delicacy and\nappreciation about his treatment of me that was original and very,\nvery pleasant.\n\nTrue, he was a Catholic, and a very devout one, having his religious\nbooks and papers always with him, and talking of his faith with\nreal enjoyment to any one who showed the smallest interest. Rose,\nmy sister, had talked with him once or twice, and to her he very\nsoon expressed his disapproval of marriage between Catholics and\nnon-Catholics (as he called them), and declared his determination\nnever to marry at all if he could not have a Catholic wife. Rose had\nalluded to this in my presence, so he knew that I understood what his\nintentions were. On account of this understanding, there was more\nfreedom and less constraint in our intercourse than would otherwise\nhave been; and as he was a gentleman, and an educated one, I found\ngreat pleasure in being with him and in his sympathy. His attentions,\nunobtrusive, thoughtful, and constant, were not only acceptable to\nme, but in that short month I had come to depend upon them more than\nI was aware of, forgetting that when they ceased it would be harder\nfor me than if I had never received them.\n\nMr. Grey had never talked to me exactly in the way that he did that\nafternoon, and because I thought it unusual I have been able to\nrecall what he said in nearly his very words.\n\nWe were on our way home, walking up a long hill, when he said:\n\n\"I have thought a good deal of you lately, and of a feeling I have\nhad about you from the first--as if it were a great merit in you to\nbe so lovely, and sweet, and charming, and that any one who felt and\nappreciated your loveliness as I have owed you a kind of debt, as it\nwere, which it would be an honor and a happiness to try to pay.\"\n\nHis face was turned from me, and he trailed the whip-lash in the\nroad, while I, leaning back, could not help looking at him, and,\nbecause I did not know what to say, I laughed.\n\nHe continued: \"Yet with that thought came the realization of its\ninjustice; for you cannot help your prettiness, and you are clever\nbecause it is natural to you; and I thought, 'Now, if I am just, I\nshall pay my debt not to her, who did not make herself, but to God,\nwho made her. I shall love not only the beauty, but also the Giver\nand Perfecter of it.' Would not that be better, Miss Clifford?\"\n\n\"Yes, I suppose so. I understand what you mean. Only, then, why have\nyou been so good to me?\" I had to look away, for my voice trembled\nand my eyes were suddenly full of tears.\n\n\"Why? Because it has made me happy, and I have been unjust; because\nI have said to myself, 'This is a dream--a sweet and charming dream.\nSoon I shall wake and go back to real life; for the present, let me\nbe weak and enjoy it.'\"\n\nThe glory of the sunshine was departing, the hills were in deep\nshadow, and the slanting rays were no longer warm and cheering. Mr.\nGrey wrapped my shawl round me, just as I remembered that I had one\nin case I should need it.\n\nWhen I could speak steadily, I remarked: \"Something that you have\nsaid makes me think of the parable of the talents. It has always\nperplexed me. Will you tell me if you think I have a talent, and what\nI am to do with it? I don't want to bury it in the ground.\"\n\n\"Your talents are clear enough, I am sure,\" he answered. \"Your power\nof pleasing and making yourself loved is one.\"\n\n\"And what am I to do with it?\"\n\n\"Why, do good with it. You have done me good.\"\n\n\"Ah! but that is because you are good, not because I am,\" I said\nsadly.\n\n\"I am not good, though perhaps the _reason_ why you have done me good\nlies more with me than you. I don't suppose--forgive me for saying\nit--that your beauty was given you only to win men's hearts, because\nthat does not make them happy, or better.\"\n\n\"You are thinking, I suppose, of Mr. Falconer. I am sure I did not\nwant him to fall in love with me, and make such a fuss. It was very\nuncomfortable.\"\n\n\"And don't you think you might have helped it? Really, now, Miss\nClifford?\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I might perhaps have stopped him if I had been rude and\ndisagreeable to him.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you are ever that to any one. You try to please\neverybody.\"\n\n\"There! that is just it!\" I exclaimed. \"Why, isn't that using my\ntalent, taking for granted I have it? What ought I to do with it?\"\n\n\"I know what a Catholic girl would think of, because Catholics\nare taught in all things to acknowledge God, and to refer all to\nhim. Think what this gift of beauty is--the key to all hearts;\nit challenges and receives love as soon as seen. Don't you feel\ninstantly attracted by a beautiful face, and turn with pleasure and\naffection toward the possessor, before she has given any evidence of\nother claims to be loved?\"\n\n\"Yes; and for a person who can't help wanting to please and to be\nloved, it is an advantage, isn't it?\"\n\n\"It is more than that, it is the gift of God; and therefore intended\nfor good. The saints were in the habit of saying, 'God created all\nthis beauty in order to lead me to love him.' Now, if a woman thinks\nof this, she will not prize her beauty for the purposes of vanity,\nbut to lead her admirers to something higher than herself. I grant\nyou this is not common, nor would a woman think of it, unless she had\nbeen taught to think of God as the first principle of her life. But I\nwill not preach any more.\"\n\n\"You remind me of my little 'Mrs. Barbauld.' How long it is since I\nhave thought of it! 'The rose is beautiful; but he that made the rose\nis more beautiful than it. It is beautiful; he is beauty.'\"\n\n\"I have been unusually serious, perhaps because I have felt the\nend of the dream drawing very near. I am going away the day after\nto-morrow.\"\n\nThe sunset clouds had faded away, and the stars were coming out\nabove our heads. We had reached the top of one more long hill, and\nthere was the little meeting-house before us, and we saw beyond our\nown white cottage, with a light in the parlor-window, showing that\ntea-time was passed. Mr. Grey spoke again.\n\n\"Have you enjoyed this drive?\"\n\n\"I have very much.\"\n\n\"Have I said anything to hurt or offend you?\"\n\n\"No, indeed, Mr. Grey. On the contrary, you have given me something\nto think about. No one ever spoke to me in this way before.\"\n\n\"And do you think you shall be likely to remember this afternoon? and\nwith pleasure?\"\n\n\"I shall not be likely to forget it.\"\n\n\"Well, then, I have an odd fancy, and it is this. I want you to\npromise me, after I have left this beautiful place and you, that you\nwill write a description of this drive, as if to an unknown third\nperson, with the details and necessary explanations. I will do the\nsame. Then, if we meet again, you can read mine and I yours, if we\nlike, and look back to this time. Will you promise?\"\n\nI considered a minute, and then said, \"I think I can see that such a\ndescription will not be an easy thing to me; yet, if it is your wish,\nof course, Mr. Grey, I promise.\"\n\n\"We may meet after many years, you an old lady and I an old man; and\nthese accounts will bring back to us this perfect day, and all that\nwe have seen and felt.\"\n\nI looked at him and smiled. \"Mr. Grey, I have been invited to spend\na year abroad with some friends, and my father says I may go if I\nchoose. We may meet next winter, in Rome.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnd in Rome we did meet, sure enough--that Rome to which \"all roads\nlead.\" I began to take one of those roads soon after Mr. Grey's\ndeparture. I found it a road \"so plain that a fool could not err\ntherein,\" a \"path of peace.\" And when we stood side by side in the\nRome of the Seven Hills, he made up his mind to share the seventh\nsacrament with a \"convert girl.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRESENT AND THE FUTURE.\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE \"CARITA.\"\n\n\nI.\n\nSo great and painful are the sufferings and terror now weighing upon\nthe nations of Europe that, setting every other subject aside, it is\ntoward that the mind necessarily turns, and we will accordingly lay\nbefore our readers the deeply rooted convictions we entertain, not\nmerely in reference to the year gone by, but to that on which we are\njust entering. These convictions take within their scope the present\nmost deplorable and shameful condition of Europe, and a future that\ncannot be very far distant. But which of these subjects shall we\nundertake to discuss? Or, were we to satisfy the necessity there\nseems for the treatment of both, should we be thereby exceeding the\nlimit of our obligation as journalists? Nothing is easier, nothing\nmore agreeable in our case, than to satisfy both the one and the\nother. For, if we place before our readers our reflections on the\npresent and future of the Christian nations of Europe, we shall be\nat the same time defining and specifying the principal field of our\nstudies.\n\nI will then examine into the reasons of the present condition of the\nchurch and of civilization, and I will do so with a mind as free\nas may be from prejudice and the heat of passion. After judging of\nevents by the great laws of history, I will endeavor to trace out\nthe path which ideas and facts must follow at no distant period. My\nwords will indeed be addressed in an especial manner to the true\nchildren of the church, but I do not doubt that they will indirectly\nreach some who are removed and even separated from us. Neither do I\ndeny that I am animated by the hope of helping to sustain the courage\nof my brethren, so that each one may be able to say to himself,\n_Modic\u00e6 fidei quare dubitasti_.\n\n\nII.\n\nTowards the close of the year 1869, and the commencement of the year\nthat followed, two solemn utterances resounded through Europe and\nagitated the nations of the universe. The first of these proceeded\nfrom the Roman Pontiff, the convener of the \u0152cumenical Council; the\nother was the cry of modern civilization, proclaiming its own power\nand its ideas of universal progress. Both utterances were of solemn\nimport, but the one was in contradiction to the other. The first, or\nthat of the Pontiff, with all the weight of his divine authority,\nlaid open to view the true principles of the other, and strove to\nreclaim it to Christ with the new and more effulgent light of truth\nand the more ardent fire of charity. Such words ought indeed to have\nfound an echo and penetrated through every fibre of the universe, for\nthey were in substance the language of love; from love they came,\nand to love they tended. Had they thus been accepted by the nations,\nwe should not have had now so many sufferings to undergo, nor been\nmenaced by a future still more calamitous. The other utterance,\nthat of modern civilization, inspired by the idea that it was an\ninvincible and independent power, spurned the thought not merely\nof supernatural aid, but even of supernatural authority. Moreover,\nin proof of its power, it collected then under distinct heads all\nthe evidences of the progress of the present age, proffering them\nas an infallible guarantee of new and still greater progress in\nthe immediate future. Thousands listened with credulity to such\nlanguage, and, opening their hearts to glorious dreams of the future,\nexulted over the hopes they had conceived with a joy whose folly\nwas unquestionable, though it would be hard to pronounce whether it\nproceeded most from impiety or pride. It is, however, a satisfaction\nto speak with boldness and candor, calling things by their right\nnames: such joy was foolish, because it was at once both proud and\nimpious. The words of the Supreme Pontiff were derided, and abuse and\ncalumnies of every description were heaped with a lavish hand on the\nacts of the \u0152cumenical Council.\n\nNow, assuming the active opposition of these two powers, what\nconsequences must result from it in the domain of facts? The problem\nis unquestionably an important one, and we must treat it by first\ngoing back and tracing it downward from first principles.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe decree of the Pope when summoning an \u0152cumenical Council may be\ndefined as the supreme exercise of his authority; and the council\nso assembled is the greatest and most universal act of the power of\ngood with which the church has been invested; she who is the City of\nGod, yet a pilgrim upon earth. Reasoning on these same questions, a\nyear ago, I recollect having thus expressed myself: \"Assuming that\nthe life of the Catholic Church is _charity_ both in its source and\nits organization, and that the Papacy is the central seat of charity;\nwhat, then, is the \u0152cumenical Council, that supreme act of the Papacy\nand the church? The answer is not difficult: it is the supreme act\nof charity peculiar to Catholicity, and is therefore that power of\nsupernatural love which is alone strong enough to combat with and put\nto flight the gigantic and many-sided egotism of the times we live\nin.\"\n\nNow, such an act of this all-powerful charity did the church initiate\non the 8th day of December, 1869--a day that will live for ever\nin the memory of posterity, and never fail to be spoken of with\nblessings. To the eyes of Catholics, the Council of the Vatican\nappeared--and such it is--a new and living fountain of hope. It\nseemed as if the yearnings of three centuries and many generations\nwere at last to be gratified by this council. It seemed, in a special\nmanner, as if the tendencies and wants of the nineteenth century\nconverged toward this council, like rays to a common centre. And\nhere, the better to understand the truth of these sentiments, we\ntrust it will not be unacceptable to our readers if we lay before\nthem what we ourselves--partakers in and witnesses of the universal\nconscience--published on the very day on which the \u0152cumenical Council\nopened in the Vatican:\n\n    \"And, in truth, what is the council in relation to\n    the nineteenth century? It is the desire of all, a\n    something longed and sighed for by all minds and all\n    hearts, the ideal of the noblest and most generous\n    aspirations that now assert their sway over the spirit\n    of man. Nor is it that only, but it is likewise what\n    was needed to meet the most urgent and widespread\n    want of our age. It will doubtless appear strange\n    to very many that the council should be styled the\n    desire of all men, but such is nevertheless the fact;\n    consciously or unconsciously, all longed for it: all,\n    those who hail it and those who curse it, those who\n    believe in it and those who despise it. Yes, all; he\n    who exalts our age, and he who bewails its errors, he\n    whose heart is rejoiced, and he who sheds tears over\n    the events of our century; princes and people, the\n    priesthood and the laity, religion and civilization,\n    faith and science. Assuredly, were any additional proof\n    necessary to demonstrate to conviction, by the evidence\n    of reason and history, that the Papacy is the heart of\n    humanity, the heart in which all the aspirations of\n    humanity converge and unite, here would be the proof\n    in the summons that convened this \u0152cumenical Council.\n    For, from the various and opposite judgments passed\n    upon our age, some in adulation, others in blame, one\n    thing is evident, and all agree in admitting it, that\n    the tendencies of our age are directed by a twofold\n    attraction toward union and liberty. These guiding\n    influences are in themselves most powerful, noble, and\n    exalted, because they mirror the infinite, absolute,\n    and supreme unity of God. Liberty is the image and\n    proof of the Infinite Being, for he alone is truly\n    free, and the spirit which tends by love toward him\n    is adorned with liberty, and possesses the power of\n    reducing its free will to act. Union is the shadow and\n    effect of the divine union, because the one God, one\n    Truth, one Good, one Beauty, can alone sweetly and\n    strongly bring into accord the wills and understandings\n    of men, and cause them to harmonize in the limitless\n    range of space, and the vicissitude and diversity of\n    time.\"\n\nNow, two such qualities and tendencies of humanity, acting in an\nespecial manner, or, in other words, more powerfully and universally\nthan ever before, rule over and exalt our age. He who should say that\nthese two tendencies, naturally common to all men, all times, and\nall places, had become the passions of the age, and even its most\nardent passions, would express our ideas on this subject, and give an\nadequate description of the times in which we live.\n\nLiberty, then, and union, are the cry from every quarter, the\nthought, desire, hope, strength, and occupation of all intellects,\nof all classes, of everything that belongs to man, from the highest\nto the lowest. Trades, business, and commerce cry aloud for\nliberty, and for union with liberty. The free co-operation of the\nindustrial arts and workmen's societies, of societies of merchants\nand banking-houses, are ideas and facts so common in these days that\nthe dominion of the two tendencies referred to above is clearly\nmade manifest in the lower order of civilization. And this order,\nquickened by such ideas and making use of such aids, becomes the\ninstrument of new liberty and still greater union. Thus, the power\nof steam triumphing over the obstacles of matter, and the speed of\nelectricity overcoming the resistance of space and time, favor the\nfree expansion of nation toward nation, and make, I might almost say,\none single society out of the most distant nations.\n\nRising from this lower order of civilization, the industries of every\nkind, to what is far nobler, that of science, we observe the same\naspirations, perhaps more universally diffused and more passionate\nin degree toward liberty and union. Freedom of thought, freedom of\neducation, freedom of speech and of the press, seem to be the idols\nof the day; for, strange to say, freedom of the intellectual life is\ndeemed by very many not as the dowry of science, but the fundamental\nprinciple of all human instruction. There exists, also, with this\ndesire for intellectual freedom, a craving after union. Scientific\ncongresses, either general or confined to some particular branch of\nknowledge, succeed each other at no distant intervals, sometimes in\none place and sometimes in another, so as to unite men of intellect\nwhom distance of space had kept asunder. The literary journals,\nwhose number is so great as to excite amazement, have become the\narena for the free diffusion of thought; they keep alive the work of\nthe scientific congresses, and spread its knowledge--spreading it\nin such a manner as to complete the intellectual union of the human\nrace, by making the speculations of the great men of science familiar\nto the most ordinary intellects.\n\nTurning our gaze from the industrial and intellectual to the moral\nlife, that is to say, to the life of society, the two aspirations\nappear stronger and more manifest; so strong and manifest that we\nmight be tempted to call them insane and mischievous. To the cry\nof liberty, the civilized nations of earth respond with transport,\nand rise in rebellion against whatever can be shown to be in any\nway opposed to freedom. Never in previous times were such social\nchanges witnessed, so unexpected, so general, so profound, and\ncarried through with so much enthusiasm, as those just enacted and\ninitiated with the cry of liberty. The political organization of\nnations, the administrative control of provinces and municipalities,\nhave all been regulated by the principle of free election, freedom of\nvote and opinion. The slavery of man to man, a lamentable relic of\npaganism, has been abolished in many places by legal enactment, and\nis universally looked on with more repugnance than heretofore. After\nthe hard-fought battles in North America on the question of slavery,\nthe negroes there have been raised to the dignity of freemen.\n\nNo less vigorous and resistless has been the tendency toward social\nunion. The principle of nationality has traversed all Europe with\nthe rapidity of lightning, kindling as it passed the minds of men,\nexciting and agitating them in a wonderful manner. Even as we\nwrite, the cry for unions still more comprehensive--the union of\nraces--strikes upon our ears.\n\nIt is, then, an indisputable fact, a fact whose evidence is clear\nto all and is admitted by all, that the aspirations of our age are\ntowards union and liberty.\n\nWe shall therefore hail the council as the final goal of these\naspirations of the human race. And yet, in saying this, we have not\nstated all that the council implies; for it serves also to satisfy\nan essentially human want that equals those twofold aspirations,\nor, to speak more correctly, is still stronger and more universal\nthan they. What, then? Shall it be said that the aspirations and\nwants of the human mind are not directed to the same object? Most\nassuredly; the end, but not the immediate object, is the same. They\nproceed from different impulses: the one arises from the tendencies\nof the age, but without any regard to the good or evil qualities\ninherent in such tendencies; the other is the result of a vice that\nmodifies and corrupts such tendencies, a vice that may prove fatal\nto nations, alluring them by the cry of liberty and union to slavery\nand desolation. The want we refer to argues a vice to be corrected,\nan infirmity to be healed, a danger to be shunned, express it as we\nwill; but let us not deny the fact, a most sad and painful one, for\nwhich the council furnishes a sovereign and most efficacious remedy.\n\nBut what, it will be asked, is this vice which degrades the noble\naspirations for liberty and union, and causes such misery to nations?\nIt is the rejection of authority--a rejection absolute and unlimited,\nthat has penetrated into every relation of human life. The better,\nhowever, to make our sentiments clear on this subject, and to bring\nunder consideration, not the existence of such a vice, but the cause\nthat produced it, we must trace the question back to its source.\n\nThe fundamental dogma of the Protestant Reformation gave birth at the\nsame instant to a double negation--the rejection of liberty and of\nunion--so that the servitude of the human will and individualism were\nexalted to the dignity of a principle. It seems like a contradiction\nthat the basis of Protestantism, namely, private interpretation,\nwhich is the rejection of a supreme authority, should have led in\nits consequences to servitude. But the contradiction disappears\nwhen we reflect that so necessary is authority to man that he will\nbow to fatalism or force if he has no legitimate authority to which\nto turn. History bears evidence that two centuries and a half of\ndebasing servitude and cruel separations followed. Such a long period\nof slumber must necessarily have had an awakening; for the innate\ntendencies of humanity may for a time grow faint or dormant, but they\ncan never be extinguished. Moreover, should they, for any length of\ntime, be checked in their natural expansion, this necessity grows to\ngigantic proportions, till it sweeps before it every obstacle like a\ntorrent in its impetuous course. Such was the result to be expected,\nand which really took place, at the close of the eighteenth century.\nBut the minds of men having been seduced by the sophistries of the\nReformation, the new era of liberty and union must of necessity\nreflect its deceitful philosophy. Therefore, liberty and union, when\nthey arose, cast aside the principle of authority, as Protestantism\nhad done at its first appearance. Liberty rejected religion to become\natheistical, and fraternity or union affiliated itself to pantheism.\n\nAnd, in truth, atheism and pantheism--two systems that harmonize\nbecause they are convertible--have penetrated into and made conquests\nin every condition of life. Fourierism and the abuse of industrial\nunions, while rejecting authority, have touched materialism on the\none side and communism on the other, and are the atheistic and\npantheistic forms of labor. Freedom of speculation, by spurning\nat every authoritative principle, has ended in rationalism; the\nsystematizing of science has fallen into pantheism or syncretism;\nrationalism and syncretism are the atheistic and pantheistic forms\nof the intellectual life. The modern code of morality and justice,\nby stripping liberty and the brotherhood of mankind of legitimate\nauthority, have ended in naturalism and socialism, the atheistic and\npantheistic forms of society.\n\nNow, these two vices, atheism and pantheism, the leading errors of\nthe day, have changed the universal movement toward liberty and union\ninto matter for the deepest and keenest sorrow. In the midst of the\nimmense riches that our age has been accumulating through its free\nand associated industries, there seems to be nothing that man touches\nthat can cheer or console him in the solitude of his heart, and, free\nlord as he is of matter, yet he feels himself its slave, because he\nhas made it the grave of his noblest aspirations. It might almost\nbe said that matter, subjugated in so many ways by the liberty and\nunion existing among men in these days, was secretly tyrannizing over\nand dividing them, denying man's authority over it because man has\nhimself cast off the true and supreme authority raised over him. In\nthe same manner, in the life of thought all our knowledge is felt to\nbe, as was said of old, but vanity, and a vanity that crushes and\nkeeps us asunder from one another. Many, yes, very many, agree in\ncrying loudly for liberty and the union of intellect, but theirs are\nmerely outward words--words which do not respond to the real life\nof man's intellectual powers. We shall proclaim openly that it is a\nfalsehood, and a falsehood by which man strives to deceive himself,\nand, if possible, conceal his sorrow. Without fear of error, we can\nsay that modern science tyrannizes in secret over the intellects of\nmen, and divides them, because liberty and the union of intellects\nrejected or rather usurped the supreme control over the minds of\nmen. Rationalists and pantheists cannot deny this; we appeal to\nthe truthful testimony of their own consciences and of history; we\nappeal to the candid avowal of Frederick Schelling. Is it not true\nthat, beneath the pompous appearances of liberty and union, the\ninner powers of thought are under the grievous yoke of so-called\nsystems, and, in addition, are slaved and tormented by secret and\nconstant doubts? Is it not true that great differences exist among\nmen of intellect, who reject to-day what was believed yesterday,\nand that there is no agreement whatever in the greatest and most\nimportant principles? To sum up: the intellectual life of the\nnineteenth century has neither interior liberty nor union, because\nwith Protestantism it has denied the principle which could alone give\nfreedom and unity to the minds of men, and this denial is the only\ninstance of that liberty and union of which it makes so great a boast.\n\nNeither in regard to the moral and social life of nations is the case\nin any way different. From the atheistical liberty of an independent\nmorality has resulted the interior servitude of the will, which means\nthe truly despotic empire of passions most degrading to the mass\nand the individual and the despotic atheism of states. And from the\npantheistic union exhibited in the practice of centralization and the\ntheory of socialism, there resulted a sanguinary war in the heart of\nChristendom: a war of the state with the church, of the people with\nmonarchy, a war of everything in subjection against everything in\nauthority. Hence we see in the most civilized countries the despair\nof its noblest citizens, men like the younger Brutus and Cato;\nhence the despondency of the higher station, blended with scorn and\nindignation; hence the frantic aims of the populace breaking forth\ninto rebellion; hence the enormous standing armies; hence amidst the\nshouts for liberty and fraternity the nations are arming, and every\ncitizen is enrolled a soldier.\n\nIf such, then, is the condition of the age and the ferment in the\nminds of men, if such is the condition of the populations, what,\nlet us ask, is at present the great, the urgent want of mankind?\nTo contradict the sentiment of union and liberty would be madness;\nto contradict the atheism of liberty and the pantheism of union is\nwisdom and true charity, and therein safety is to be found; for,\ntake away pantheism from union, and atheism from liberty, there\nwill remain union and true liberty both exteriorly and interiorly.\nAnd assuming that the deadly principles of atheism and pantheism\nsprang from Protestantism, which rejected the Papacy, the supreme\npersonification of power, the return to authority, the true and only\nsource of liberty and union, is the great and universal want of the\npresent age.\n\n\nIV.\n\nTo satisfy so great a want, the City of God, exercising the most\nperfect act of its power of goodness and love, convoked the Council\nof the Vatican. But in opposition to the City of God in its exercise\nof this supreme act of love and goodness, stands the City of Satan,\nwhich has always combated it, and will continue to do so to the end\nof time. It was, therefore, an easy matter to predict that the City\nof Satan would assuredly put forth its utmost powers of evil in\nopposition to that supreme effort of the church of Christ. Such a\nconclusion would be warranted both by reason and history. By reason,\ninasmuch as humanity may well be likened to a battle-field, wherein\nthe powers of good and evil contend for mastery, falsehood, and\ntruth, the old Adam and the new, Cain and Abel, Satan and Christ,\nso that a state of warfare may be said to be the law of this life;\nand as no real progress can be made but as the result of a hard-won\nvictory, it follows logically that our own age, being subject to\nthe same law, must pass through a terrible conflict. History bears\nevidence to the same effect, how at critical times the whole powers\nof evil rose up in terrible conflict against the great undertakings\nof the church. And I will add that as the work of the Vatican\nCouncil was to bring to light in a special manner the naturalism\nof modern civilization, which deduces its origin from atheism and\npantheism, and afterwards to strengthen and exhibit in a clearer\nlight the supreme authority of the Pope, so, on the other hand,\nmodern civilization had to put forth all the strength it derived from\nnaturalism to crush the Papacy.\n\nAll this might have been and was foretold. Two periods are to be\ndistinguished in the brief existence of the Vatican Council: they are\nthose which correspond to the two sessions which the Pope presided\nover in person. The first was directed specially against those\nmonster errors from which naturalism springs; the second, after not a\nhasty but a long and comprehensive discussion, decreed the universal\nsupremacy of the papal authority, the supremacy of his teaching,\nthat is, the infallibility of the Pope, when he speaks (to use the\nlanguage of the schools) _ex cathedr\u00e2_. You might have said, then,\nthat the great task of the council was ended, and time will perhaps\nshow that you would not have judged amiss.\n\nHowever, the City of Satan was meanwhile no idle spectator, but\nexerted its powers in many and various ways, yet so that it may be\nsaid with truth that two of these corresponded singularly to the\ntwo important periods of the council. In the first place, there was\nwitnessed a great and portentous gathering of free-thinkers from\nall countries of the earth, and to this was assigned the title of\n_Anticouncil_, to signify in the most open way possible the war\nwhich the naturalism of the day is waging against the church and the\nPapacy. But this gathering failed to accomplish anything, so that,\nas was justly said, the infant cries of the new-born _Anticouncil_\nwere also the last gasp of its mortal agony. In vain, besides, were\nall the efforts of the irreligious press, its sarcasms and calumnies;\nin vain the intrigues of anti-christian diplomacy. In vain, too, was\nthat last effort, those appeals of discord flung into the camp of the\nassembled bishops. Nor do I say all when I affirm that such guilty\nefforts accomplished nothing against the council. I might have added,\nand I do so without hesitation, that they shed additional lustre on\nit. For, if they prove nothing else, they prove at least these two\ntruths: first, that all the efforts of the world and hell shall not\nprevail against the church; _et port\u00e6 inferi non prevalebunt adversus\neam_; secondly, that the freedom and fulness of discussion that took\nplace in the council before defining dogmatically was greater than\nits adversaries expected or even desired. A new proof, were any\nsuch needed, that the church of Christ is neither an opponent nor a\nweakener of the powers of human reason, but is the harmonizer of the\nhuman element with the divine, of science with faith, of liberty with\nsupernatural authority.\n\nThis was the first great effort of the adversaries of the council,\nbut there soon followed a second. Peaceful opposition having failed,\nit was easy to foresee that modern civilization would change its\nmode of warfare, and instead of moral force would call to its aid\nphysical force and violence. But for this it was necessary that some\nopportunity be given, and the invasion of Rome by ruffian bands\nas contemplated was too hazardous an undertaking, so long as the\nFrench eagle cast the shadow of its protection over the Vatican.\nThe opportunity wanted was not long in presenting itself. Strange\ncoincidence! At the very time when papal infallibility was added\nto the dogmas of faith, and almost on the very day, war broke out\nunexpected between France and Prussia. How Satan must have exulted\nwith ferocious joy at that terrible hour! Such a war seemed to supply\nhis city with the means of renewing its assaults on the City of God.\n\nThe Prussian minister Bismarck, the chief representative of modern\ncivilization, had been for a long time in closest alliance with the\ndouble atheism of authority and modern liberty, that is to say, with\nthe autocracy of Russia and modern revolution, which both desired\nthe triumph of the German arms. In consequence of this alliance,\nFrance came single-handed into the contest, while Prussia drew with\nher all Germany. The Northern armies won astonishing victories, and\ntheir allies shared in the advantages of them. Preponderance in the\nEast was again made practicable to the atheism of authority, and the\natheism of liberty took possession of Rome--Rome from whose walls,\nthrough a blunder or a crime, the French government had withdrawn\nits troops. As a consequence, the Pope was stripped of his temporal\npower, and the council suspended.\n\nThis was the result of the war against the Papacy; this was the\ncrowning effort of the City of Satan against the City of God--an\neffort in relation to which modern civilization showed more clearly\nthan before both its character and the end at which it aimed. All the\norgans of the press that have sold themselves to the false spirit\nof the age--and their number is very great--all with unanimity\nof sentiment and in one chorus extolled the shameful outrage to\nthe skies, and made it the subject of a senseless triumph. And\nwhat deserves notice, in as far as it goes to show the truth of\nour opinions, is that all pronounced this exploit as the greatest\nvictory of modern civilization against Catholic superstition and the\ntheocracy of the middle ages.\n\nWas it a real victory? And will it be lasting? Will it be in our\npower, reverentially and with due timidity, to withdraw a little the\nveil that covers the designs of Providence in reference to these\nfacts, and predict the future? The answer to these questions cannot\nbe briefly given, and must therefore form the subject of a future\narticle. Nevertheless, to close this article and prepare the minds\nof our readers for what is to follow, I think it necessary to draw\na conclusion from the matters discussed, and it is this: that our\nbrethren in the faith have no reason in the world to be astonished\nat the painful events happening in these times. Such things were\nnecessary--so necessary were they that we ourselves, a year ago,\nventured to predict this contest, when the political atmosphere was\nstill unclouded, and all around breathed an air of peace. \"This new\nyear,\" said we on the first day of January, 1870, \"will be doubtless\none of the most memorable of all recorded in history. In it, not two\nages, but two great eras meet and trace broadly their distinction\none from the other--an era that is closing, and one that is about to\nbegin. And in this same year, a momentous struggle will correspond to\nthe meeting of the two eras--the struggle of two contrary principles\nwhich aim at the conquest of the human race. The two eras are, that\nof Protestantism religious and civil, and that of Christian revival\nin all the orders and relations of the Catholic Church. The two\nprinciples are egotism and charity--egotism, which begot and animates\nProtestantism, and charity, which is the life of Catholicity.\" The\nconflict, fierce, terrible, and waged under different forms, was a\nnecessity; why, then, be astonished that what was to take place has\nreally happened? Is not the spouse of _him who espoused her with\nhis sacred blood_ sent forth to combat? Had this conflict not taken\nplace, we should have been tempted to say that it would be necessary\nto call in question the great law of human history--_progress through\nsuffering_.\n\nAway, then, with astonishment, which would be folly! Away with vain\nfears! The church has combated and overcome all the moral force\nbrought to bear against the Papacy and the council, and shall it\ntremble before brute force? Is not the first victory a most certain\npledge of the second?\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nDRAMATIS PERSON\u00c6.\n\nOne Saturday evening in June, the Seaton mail-coach, with two\npassengers, drove out of the city of Bragon on its way eastward.\nBoth these passengers were gentlemen, and both young. One was large\nand light-complexioned; the other, slight and dark. The large one\nhad a hard, white face, whose only expression seemed to be a fixed\ndetermination to express nothing. Such a look is provoking. Let us\nread a little of the man in spite of himself. People have no right to\nshut themselves up in that way. One would say immediately that he is\nwhat is called a very good man, one of those good men whom we praise,\nand avoid: that is, he does not offend against the decalogue nor the\nrevised statutes. But there is a law radiant with a tenderer glory,\ndropped, verse by verse, through the Scriptures, taught constantly by\nthe church, attested to human hearts by the very need of it, and that\nlaw he keeps not. One wonders at such a man, and, in softer moods,\nfancies pitifully that he aches under that icy coating, and that down\nin the depths of his heart some little unfrozen spring perpetually\ntroubles his repose by its protesting, half-stifled murmur. One is\nalso exasperated by him. \"In his society,\" as Miss Clara Yorke said\nafterward, \"one's thoughts and feelings become all puckered up.\" He\nis indeed a powerful moral astringent.\n\nAs if conscious of our observation, he turns stiffly away, and\nlooks out of the window at his elbow, entertaining his mind with a\nview of the spiders that hang from the beams of the covered bridge\nthrough which they are driving. We are not to be baffled, however,\nbut can pursue our scrutiny. He has large, heavy white hands, his\nbroadcloth is of the finest, and in the breast-pocket of his coat is\na manuscript sermon. He would like to have us listen to that sermon,\nbut will not.\n\nThe gentleman who sits at this person's left is as different as could\nwell be. He has a thin face, a long nose inclining slightly upward\ntoward the end, and haggard, bright eyes. His forehead is high, and\nall the hair is brushed straight back from it, and falls on his neck.\nHe has a small mouth, with lips so vividly red that they seem to be\npainted. In his breast-pocket is a bottle of laudanum, which seems to\nbe very much at home there.\n\nThese gentlemen had never met before they stepped into the coach\ntogether; and it would be safe to say that they had no ardent\ndesire to meet again. They were very slow, indeed, to improve the\nopportunity afforded them to form an acquaintance, and probably would\nhave maintained a very formal demeanor toward each other, had not\ncircumstances forced them into a most undignified intimacy. There had\nbeen a succession of pouring rains, and the roads were frightful,\nheavy with mud, and full of pitfalls. After the coach got out of\nthe town and into the woods, their situation became very trying to\nthe passengers. To say nothing of the pain of bumps and bruises,\ntheir dignity and sense of propriety were constantly being outraged\nby their being thrown into each other's arms, or having their\nheads knocked violently together. Under such difficulties, silence\nbecame impracticable. Apologies became necessary, and exclamations\nirrepressible. He of the sermon never said anything worse than \"Bless\nme!\" but the other had occasionally to stifle an ejaculation which\nwould not have been so pleasant to hear.\n\nThe coach was due at Seaton at four o'clock in the morning; but\nas hours passed, and still their motion was chiefly lateral and\nperpendicular, their prompt arrival receded from a probability to a\npossibility, and thence became impossible. They had started at nine\no'clock; and at three of the next morning they yet lacked nearly a\nmile of reaching the half-way house where they were to change horses.\nAt that point one of the wheels suddenly slipped into a deep rut.\nThe four steaming horses strained and tugged till they started the\ncoach, when it immediately gave a lee-lurch, and went into a hole\nat the other side. At the same moment, something, whatever it is\nwhich holds horse and carriage together, snapped, and the quadrupeds\nstarted off on their own account, leaving the coach and the bipeds to\nfollow at their leisure. The driver, having the reins in his hands,\nwas of course pulled off the box; but the road received him softly.\nThe passengers need have suffered no damage, but that the tall one,\nhaving, curiously enough, the impression that they were being run\naway with instead of from, jumped out of the coach with more haste\nthan discretion. The spot he sank into was the rut from which the\nfront wheel had just been drawn, and the result was that he emerged\nupon the roadside in a deplorable masquerade, being clad in a\ncomplete domino of well-mixed clay and water. Moreover, his ankle was\nquite severely sprained.\n\n\"You'll have to walk to the half-way house, gentlemen,\" the driver\nsaid, calmly wiping the mud from his face. He had been over that\nroad too many times to be much disturbed at any mishap of the kind.\nHaving spoken, he shouldered the mail-bags, and started in advance.\nIt was full three minutes before the other passenger appeared, and,\nwhen he did, his face was perfectly grave, though very red. He threw\na blanket he had found inside out into the road, and stepped on to\nit. He next reached in and got a cushion, with which he completed\nthe bridge across the mud, then walked over them as unstained as\nQueen Elizabeth over Raleigh's mantle, and stepped dry-shod in the\nneatest of boots on to the rim of the delicate moss that spread its\ncarpet all along the roadside under the trees. Having landed safely,\nhe turned toward his companion, who was trying to wash himself in a\nbrook and scrape his clothes with sticks. \"I should advise you, sir,\"\nhe said, \"to come right on to the house, and get a complete change of\nclothing. It is useless to try to clean those.\"\n\nThe other was speechless, and seemed too much stupefied to do\nanything more than obey.\n\nMorning was just breaking, cloudless and beautiful, the forest was\nfresh with June, and through it could be heard the elfish laughter of\nbrooks. While the travellers had through the night been racked and\ntormented, conscious only of misery and mud, all around them nature\nhad reposed in her loveliness and purity, with her birds sweetly\nnestled, her flowers dewwashed, her streams crystal-clear. Their\nroad had been like a foul thread woven across a beautiful web.\n\nWhen they reached the half-way house, the tall traveller was in a\nperfectly abject state. His pride had quite disappeared, his dignity\nwas nowhere to be seen. He allowed himself to be arrayed in a suit\nof rough farming-clothes a good deal too short, in which he beheld\nhimself without a smile, and humbly begged his fellow-traveller to\nbear a message from him to his expecting friends in Seaton. Not only\nhis toilet, but his sprained ankle would prevent his proceeding on\nhis journey for some hours at least. His name was Conway; he was a\nBaptist minister, and was expected to preach in Seaton that day.\nWould the gentleman be so good as to send word to the church, as\nsoon as he arrived, that their looked-for candidate had met with an\naccident? He was not personally acquainted with any one in Seaton,\ntherefore could not direct him, but presumed that the driver could.\n\nThe gentleman with the bright eyes cordially promised, then asked for\nbreakfast and a clothes-brush, and the other withdrew to rest.\n\n\"There's not time to cook anything but coffee and fish,\" the landlord\nsaid. \"Passengers never stop here to breakfast; and the driver is\ngoing on in fifteen minutes. But I'll do the best I can for you.\"\n\nIn ten minutes all was ready. The traveller brushed his clothes\nscrupulously, combed his hair back in a silken wave, bathed his face\nand hands, gave himself one more look to be sure that his toilet was\ncorrect, then seated himself at table. The principal dish before him\nwas an eel fried in sections, then carefully put together, and coiled\nround the plate.\n\n\"Not much of a breakfast,\" the landlord said. \"But we haven't any\nmarket here.\"\n\n\"Sir!\" exclaimed the traveller in a deep voice, \"I asked for fish,\nand you give me a serpent! I would as soon--I would sooner eat of an\nanaconda than an eel.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry you do not like it, sir,\" the man replied. \"If we raised\nanacondas here, you should have one; but we don't.\"\n\nThe traveller drank his coffee, and found it not bad. \"I will try to\ndo without snakes, this morning,\" he remarked.\n\nThere were twelve miles yet to travel; but the road improved slightly\nas they went on. Still it was tedious work; and when at last they\ndrove into the town, it was past ten o'clock, and the bells were\nringing for Sunday service.\n\nWhen the coach reached the post-office, in the centre of the\ntown, the traveller jumped out, and asked to be directed to the\nUniversalist meeting-house. \"And please send word to the Baptist\npeople of the accident which befell their minister,\" he said. \"It\nwill be impossible for me to do so now.\"\n\nThe driver promised, and directed the stranger. \"Go over the bridge\nhere, and up the hill, and you will come to a white meeting-house\nwith green blinds,\" he said.\n\nThe traveller hastily followed the direction, and soon came to a\nhouse answering the description given. The congregation were all in\ntheir seats; and as the new-comer breathlessly entered, he heard a\nvoice from the pulpit. \"My beloved brethren,\" the voice said, \"I am\nsorry to inform you that the minister who was to have preached for us\nto-day will not probably come. The stage has not come in, and has,\nmost likely, met with an accident. But since you have all gathered\ntogether here to-day, it seemed to me a pity that you should go away\nwithout hearing the word of life. I have therefore brought a volume\nof sermons by the reverend--\"\n\nHere the deacon stopped at sight of the stranger hurrying up the\naisle, made an awkward gesture, took out his pocket-handkerchief,\nand, finally, descended sheepishly at one side of the pulpit as our\nbelated traveller went up the other.\n\nThe minister seated himself on the red velvet sofa, which in the\ntemple occupied the place of an altar, fumbled a while in the\nhymn-book for a hymn he could not find, wiped his heated face,\nfinally read at random. Presently there was heard from the gallery\nover the entrance the faint twang of a tuning-fork, then a man's\nvoice feeling for the key, which he had to transpose from A to C.\nPouncing upon it at length in a stentorian _do_, he soared gradually\nup through dominant to octave, the choir caught their parts, and the\nhymn began. Unfortunately, however, in their haste they had selected\na common metre tune for a long metre hymn, as they discovered at the\nend of the second line, where they found themselves in difficulty by\nreason of two syllables which were unprovided for by the music, yet\ncould not well be left out.\n\nWhile they were extricating themselves, and finding a more fitful\ntune, the minister took breath, and looked round on his congregation.\nThey disappointed him. He had been informed that his hearers were\nto be the young, progressive spirits of the town; and these looked\nanything but young and progressive. They were nearly all old and\nantiquated, and their faces struck a chill through him. They seemed\nto be the faces of people who believe that one of the chief pleasures\nof heaven consists in looking over the celestial battlements and\nwitnessing the torments of the condemned, rather than of those who\nhold the comfortable doctrine of universal salvation. Stern, fateful,\nstolid, they sat there, not even provoked to a passing smile by the\nludicrous _contretemps_ of the choir. The minister frowned. He was\ntired, he had been irritated by his travelling companion, and now he\nwas bitterly disappointed. Seaton was a growing town that would soon\nbe a city, and he had looked forward with pleasure to the prospect of\nbeing settled there. There seemed nowhere else for him to go, and he\nwas not rich, and he was homeless. The sight of this congregation,\nwhich he saw at once he could never reconcile himself to, disturbed\nhim greatly. Moreover, in his haste he had forgotten to take his\nmorning dose of laudanum; and, altogether, but for a glimpse he got\nof two faces near the pulpit, he might have marched down, and left\nthe deacon to read as many sermons as he chose. These two reconciling\nfaces belonged to Miss Melicent Yorke and her brother Owen, who were\nvisiting the different Seaton churches. The fair, tranquil face of\nthe lady, her delicate dress, her folded hands, even the wreath of\nviolets that rested on her flaxen hair, all made a pleasant picture\nfor the cultivated glance that swept over it. Of Owen he saw only the\ntop of the head, and the hand that covered his face. But his attitude\nshowed that he was hiding a laugh; and anybody who could laugh in\nthat congregation was balm to the minister's eyes. In those two he\nfelt sure of sympathy.\n\nThe hymn over, the minister read a psalm and repeated the Lord's\nPrayer.\n\nThe congregation listened with lengthening faces. In fact, the\ndisapprobation was mutual. In the first place, they were shocked\nthat the candidate for their pulpit should travel on the Lord's day;\nin the next place, his looks and manners were too little like those\nof their former pastor, the Rev. Jabez True; thirdly, they had never\nbefore had the Our Father foisted on them for a prayer. They were\naccustomed to hear a long and explicit address to the Deity, in which\ntheir wishes and thoughts were explained to him, and their praises\nand thanks duly meted out--a prayer which they could talk about\nafterward. Elder True had been gifted in prayer, and would sometimes\npray half an hour without a moment's hesitation. It was certainly a\nvery shabby thing to put them off with the Lord's Prayer.\n\nThen came the sermon. Only two persons present knew that the text\nwas from the Koran. It was a story of a certain good man who had a\nplantation of palm-trees, to which he used to call the poor, and give\nthem such fruit as the knife missed or the wind blew off. He died;\nand his sons felt too poor to give anything away. So they agreed to\ncome early in the morning, and gather the fruit when the poor could\nnot know. But in laying their plans, they omitted to add, \"If it\nplease God!\" In the night a storm passed over the garden, and in the\nmorning it was as one where the fruit had all been gathered.\n\nThere are various ways in which such a text could be treated. Our\nspeaker, changing his plan at the last minute, irritated by the cold\nand unsympathizing faces about him, and by his personal discomforts,\nchose to enforce this thought: there are those who fancy that all\nthe fruits of grace are theirs, that they are the elect, and that\nthose outside of their walls shall perish with hunger while they are\nfeasting. Behold, the whirlwind of the wrath of God shall sweep away\nthe good they only seem to have, and leave them poorer than Lazarus.\nIt was a forced interpretation; but the speaker was dextrous, and\nmade himself appear consecutive even when he rambled most. With\npassionate vehemence, he denounced those sanctimonious souls who\nmistake a curvature of the spine for humility, and a nasal twang for\nan evidence of grace. \"I love not,\" he said, \"those cold and heavy\nsouls that never take a generous fire. One wonders if they ever will\nburn--under any future circumstances. They flatter themselves that\nthey are good and just and reasonable because they are emotionless.\nIt is not so. No heart is pure that is not passionate; no virtue safe\nthat is not enthusiastic. Is the diamond less fine because it is\nbrilliant? Has the sea no depth because it sparkles on the surface?\nWould the cannon-ball go further flung by the hand than it does when\nshot from the cannon's mouth? Is truth always a mountain crowned\nwith snow? It may be a volcano. A strong and sweet thinker has said,\n'The wildest excess of passion does not injure the soul so much as\nrespectable selfishness does;' and he says rightly. I protest against\nthe apotheosis of phlegm. There are many phases of good, and each has\nhis way; but, for my part, I prefer the faults of heat to the faults\nof cold. The former are often generous faults, the latter never so.\nThe faults of the former are on the surface, and can neither be\ndenied nor hidden; those of the latter are deep-rooted, and may be\nand often are mistaken for virtues. Who were the great saints? Look\nat the reckless Magdalen, the vehement St. Paul, the hasty St. Peter.\nSt. John of the Cross quotes as an axiom in theology the saying that\nGod moves all things in harmony with their constitution; and the\nhistory of the world shows that, when he wanted to kindle a grand and\nholy conflagration, he took for workers combustible men and women.\nAmong the apostles, the only one who was cold and calculating enough\nto count money and think of the purse when the Lord was near enough\nto set all their hearts on fire was Judas, and not the worst Judas in\nthe world either. For since his time many a pretended follower has\nweighed the Holy One in a balance, and sold him for a price, and has\nlacked the after-grace to hang himself.\"\n\n\"Let us pray!\"\n\nIt was only when Miss Yorke and her brother rose, that the astonished\nand scandalized congregation understood that the sermon was really\nover, and they were to stand up and listen to a prayer.\n\nThe minister spoke in a voice yet vibrating with excitement: \"O Lord\nGod of morning and evening, of storm and sunshine, of the dew that\nbathes the violet and the frost that cracks the rock--God of the\neast and the west, and all that lies between them--God of our souls\nand our bodies, of bliss and of anguish--O God, who alone rewardest\nfailure, who for thy mantle, which eludes our grasp, givest us thy\nhand to clasp--may all thy creatures adore thee! Our praise goes up\nlike the note of the small bird in the branches; but thou hast made\nus weak. All power is thine! Our hearts swell and break at thy feet\nas the waves break upon the shore; but thou hast set our limit. Space\nis in the hollow of thy hand! We lift our eyes toward thee, and their\ngaze is baffled; but thou, who seest all things, hast sealed their\nvision. Glory and honor and power be unto thee, inscrutable Wisdom,\nfor ever and ever. Amen!\"\n\n\"And he calls that a prayer!\" thought the congregation.\n\n\"Why, it is like a Catholic prayer!\" whispered Melicent to her\nbrother. \"And he quotes St. John of the Cross, and the Koran, and\n_Ecce Homo_. He must be an eclectic minister.\"\n\nThe congregation went out with very glum faces, and scattered to\ntheir various homes. Only the deacon waited in the porch, as in duty\nbound, to invite the minister home to dinner.\n\n\"I suppose you will go home with me, Brother Conway,\" he said,\nfreezingly.\n\n\"Conway!\" echoed the minister. \"You mistake, sir! My name is\nGriffeth.\"\n\nThe deacon stared. \"We were expecting the Reverend John Conway to\npreach to-day, as a candidate for our pulpit,\" he said, eyeing Mr.\nGriffeth suspiciously. \"Do you come in his place?\"\n\nAn expression of perplexity, instantly succeeded by one of poignant\namusement, passed over the minister's face. Then he became grave. \"It\nseems that I have come in his place,\" he said, \"but most unwillingly.\nBrother Conway met with an accident which delayed him. He sent his\nregrets to you by me, and hopes he may be here this afternoon.\nGood-morning, sir! I will not burden your hospitality to-day.\"\n\nThe deacon's face cleared. It was a blessed relief to find that they\nwould have no more to do with this man.\n\nThe stranger crossed the portico to where Melicent and Carl still\nlingered, having overheard this conversation. \"I beg your pardon!\" he\nsaid. \"But will you have the kindness to tell me of what denomination\nthe church is in which I have been preaching?\"\n\n\"It is Baptist,\" Carl replied; \"of the kind, I think, they call\n'Hard-shelled.'\"\n\n\"God be praised!\" ejaculated the minister. \"I have got into the wrong\npulpit!\"\n\nMelicent immediately insisted on his going home with them. \"We can at\nleast protect you from the Hard-shells until your own friends find\nyou,\" she said.\n\nThe invitation being cordially given, and seconded by Carl, the\nminister thankfully accepted it, and they started on their homeward\nway. \"My blunder is likely to give great offence to one-half the\ntown, and great amusement to the other half,\" he said, as they went\nalong. \"I am truly thankful to find a refuge from both.\"\n\nMrs. Yorke received her unexpected guest with the greatest kindness;\nMr. Yorke, with the greatest courtesy. It was one of the pleasantest\nfamilies in the world to visit. Not easily accessible to everybody,\nnor quick to form intimacies, whomever they did receive, they made at\nonce at home. There was a charming ease in their company. Your sole\nreminder that they understood the proprieties of life was the fact\nthat they never sinned against them.\n\nSeated in the midst of the family, who gathered about him, the\nminister related the adventures of the last twenty-four hours to his\nsmiling auditory. Only two persons present were grave. Edith could\nperceive nothing ludicrous in the circumstances. It was a most sad\nand uncomfortable fact that Minister Conway should have got into the\nmud, she thought; and, as to preaching in the wrong pulpit, that\nseemed to her a very awful mistake. The other solemn face belonged\nto little Eugene Cleaveland, five years old, Major Cleaveland's\nyoungest son. The child was a pet of the Yorkes, and always stayed\nwith them when his father was away from home. He had quite adopted\nthem as his relatives. Mr. and Mrs. Yorke were his aunt and uncle.\nThe others were all cousins. Leaning on Clara's lap, quite unmindful\nof her caressing hand in his hair or on his cheek, he gazed with\nlarge, bright black eyes at the minister, drinking in every word, and\nthinking his own thoughts.\n\n\"Isn't your God as good as their God is?\" he asked suddenly in the\nthe first pause.\n\n\"We have all the same God, my child,\" the minister replied; and\nimmediately added to the others, \"I perceive that we had better\nchange the subject, lest the little ones should be scandalized. I\nfancy I even read reproof in the eyes of your niece, madam. And, by\nthe way, she looks like some solemn, medieval religious.\"\n\n\"It is odd she should suggest that thought to you,\" Mrs. Yorke said.\n\"The child is a Catholic. Come, my dear, and show Mr. Griffeth what\na pretty prayer-book you have. It was given me by a very lovely and\nzealous French lady whom I knew in Paris. I thought it would do Edith\nmost good.\"\n\nEdith approached the minister with hesitation, half-pleased with him,\nhalf-doubtful. But while he talked pleasantly to her, glancing over\nthe book without a sign of prejudice, explaining and praising here\nand there, her doubts were forgotten. What the child instinctively\nfelt was, that the man had no religious convictions; but, her reason\nbeing undeveloped, she could not understand what he lacked. When\nhe learned that she was half-Polish, he delighted her by telling\nhow, in the glorious days of Poland, when the nobles heard Mass,\nthey unsheathed their swords at the Gospel, to show that they were\nready on the instant to do battle for the faith, and he promised\nto procure for her a little handful of earth from the sacred soil\nof Praga. He then repeated and translated for her an anonymous hymn\nto the Holy Innocents, written in the fourth century, and, at Mrs.\nYorke's request, copied it into the prayer-book. It was this:\n\n      \"Salvete, flores martyrum,\n      Quos lucis ipso in limine,\n      Christi insecutor sustulit,\n      Ceu turbo nascentes rosas.\n      Vos, prima Christi victima,\n      Grex immolatorum tener,\n      Aram ante ipsam, simplices,\n      Palma et coronis luditis.\"\n\nMiss Yorke presently excused herself with the smiling announcement\nthat she must prepare the dessert for dinner, and Clara went out to\ngather flowers for the dinner-table, taking Eugene Cleaveland with\nher.\n\nThey roamed about the edge of the woods, finding wild-roses and\nviolets; they ventured into wet places for the blue flower-de-luce;\nthey gathered long plumes of ferns, and in a dusky cloister where a\nbrook had hidden one of its windings, they found a cardinal-flower\nlighting the place like a lamp.\n\nSuddenly the little boy cried out, and began to dance about. There\nwas a bug gone away up in his jacket, he declared.\n\nClara searched him, but found nothing.\n\n\"There's nothing on you, little dear!\" she said. \"Come home, now. It\nis dinner-time, and you must help me to arrange the flowers. There is\nno bug, child; it is all your imagination.\"\n\n\"Does my imagination wiggle?\" he cried indignantly. \"There!\"\n\nThe last exclamation referred to a creeping at his throat; and out\nhopped an active little frog, which had been circumnavigating the\nchild ever since he pulled the last blue lily.\n\nThey went homeward with their baskets of flowers, and encountered on\nthe way Boadicea Patten with her baby in her arms. She had come to\nsee her son and daughter, and was trying to keep out of sight of the\nfront windows, where she saw a stranger.\n\nClara Yorke immediately seized upon the infant. No baby ever escaped\nher caresses; and this one the young ladies had taken under their\nespecial charge. They supplied its wardrobe, and went to see it, or\nhad it come to them every week. It was a pretty child, bright, white,\nand well-mannered, with a lordly air of taking homage as if it were\ndue.\n\nWhen Clara entered the parlor, she found only the gentlemen and Edith\nthere; but that did not prevent her insisting on her little one being\nreceived with enthusiasm. She called attention to the wonderful\ndimpled shoulders and elbows, pulled its eyelids down pitilessly to\ndisplay the long lashes, uncurled its yellow locks and let them creep\nback into rings again, and crowned it with violets, quoting Browning:\n\n      \"Violets instead of laurel in the hair,\n      As those were all the little locks could bear.\"\n\nThen she consigned the child to her brother. \"I have domestic cares\nto attend to,\" she said, \"and you must amuse my beauty while I am\ngone. 'What must you do?' Talk to it, of course. 'What shall you\nsay?' Why, Owen, do not be stupid! Say whatever you can think of that\nis suited to the darling's capacity. Come, Eugene, we have important\naffairs on hand.\"\n\nCarl looked at his charge with immense good-will and not a little\nperplexity, and it stared back solemnly at him, waiting to be\nentertained. Something must be said.\n\n\"What is your opinion concerning the origin of ideas?\" asked the\nyoung man, at length, with great politeness.\n\nInstantly the little face brightened with delighted intelligence;\nthe lips became voluble in a strange language, and the dimpled hands\ncaught at Carl's sunny locks.\n\n\"Oh! for an interpreter,\" he exclaimed. \"If we had an interpreter, we\ncould confound the _savants_. Clara,\" to his sister just returning,\n\"what is this little wretch saying?\"\n\n\"He is saying that he loves everybody in the whole world!\" she cried,\ncatching the babe in her arms, and half-stifling it with kisses.\n\"And, now, please come to dinner.\"\n\n\"It is not a bad solution,\" mused the minister, as he and Carl went\nout last. \"Perhaps love is the root from which our ideas grow.\nUndoubtedly the kind of ideas a person has depends on the nature and\ndegree of his loving.\"\n\n\"You see that here we stand not upon the order of our going,\" Clara\nlaughed back from the doorway; \"or, rather, we follow the style of\necclesiastical processions, and place the principal person last.\"\n\nThere was a cluster of yellow violets by Mr. Griffeth's plate. His\neyes often turned on them, and always with a grave expression. \"They\nremind me of a brother I have lost,\" he said at length to Mrs. Yorke.\n\"Philip used to paint flowers beautifully, and a bunch of yellow\nviolets was the last thing he painted. If you were not new-comers in\nSeaton, I should think it possible that you might have seen or heard\nof him. He went to school here to an old minister, Mr. Blake, the\npredecessor, I believe, of Dr. Martin.\"\n\n\"Philip Griffeth!\" Mrs. Yorke exclaimed, blushing with surprise,\n\"Why, I went to school with him. I recollect him perfectly. This\nis my native place, Mr. Griffeth. Yes, Philip was the favorite of\nevery one, teacher and pupils. He used to help me with my Virgil.\nMr. Blake made us all study Latin, and the boys had to study Greek.\nThe minister thought that no person should be admitted into polite\nsociety who did not know one at least of these languages. I recollect\nhim, a small, pompous man, with an air of fierceness very foreign to\nhis character. He wished to be thought a stern and fateful personage,\nwhile in truth he was the softest man alive. When he used to come to\nour house, and extend his awful right hand to me, I always knew that\nthe left hand, hidden behind his back, held a paper of candy.\"\n\nThe discovery of this mutual friend formed a strong tie between the\nminister and his new acquaintances, so that they seemed quite like\nold friends. The family pressed him to stay till evening, when they\nwould send for some of his people to come for him; and he, nothing\nloth, consented.\n\n\"But, I warn you,\" he said to the young people, when they had\nreturned to the parlor, \"that, unless you allow me to see you often,\nthis hospitality will be a cruel kindness. I should find it harder to\nlose than never to have had your society. I could not console myself\nwith less than the best, as this pretty rustic did,\" taking up an\nillustrated copy of _Maud M\u00fcller_ that lay at his elbow. \"But what a\nperfect thing it is!\" he added.\n\nMrs. Yorke was just passing through the room on her way to take an\nafternoon _siesta_. She paused by the table, and glanced at the\nbook. \"It is perfect all but the ending,\" she said; \"that is too\npre-Raphaelite for me. Doubtless it would have happened quite so; but\nI do not wish to know that it did.\"\n\n\"But should not art be true to nature?\" asked Mr. Griffeth. He liked\nto hear and see the lady talk. Her gentle ways and delicate, pathetic\ngrace, all charmed him.\n\n\"Art should be true to nature when nature is true to herself,\" she\nreplied. \"I am not a pre-Raphaelite. I believe that the mission of\nart is to restore the lost perfection of nature, not to copy and\nperpetuate its defects. Otherwise it is not elevating; and what it\nmakes you admire chiefly is the talent which imitates, not the genius\nwhich sees. I believe that genius is insight, talent only outsight.\nMy husband defines genius as artistic intuition. Why should the poet\nhave cheated us into loving a fair, empty shape? If the girl had\nbeen disappointed, and had lived apart and lonely to the end of her\ndays, the picture would have been lovely and pathetic. But now it is\nrevolting.\"\n\n\"I agree with mamma,\" Miss Yorke interposed. \"If Maud M\u00fcller had\nmarried the judge, she would never have appreciated him. If she had\nbeen capable of it, she could not have condescended to the other\nafter having seen him.\"\n\n\"I should believe,\" the minister said, \"that, if she had possessed\ntrue nobleness of soul, she could not have so lowered herself, even\nif she had seen nothing better. To my mind, people rise to their\nproper level by spontaneous combustion, needing no outward spark,\nwomen as well as men. The philosophy of the Comte de Gabalis may be\nvery true as to gnomes, sylphs, and salamanders; but for women I\nthink that such radical changes never occur. That theory belongs to\nthose men who, as Mrs. Browning says, believe that 'a woman ripens,\nlike a peach, in the cheeks chiefly.'\"\n\n\"So we have disposed of poor Maud M\u00fcller,\" said Mrs. Yorke. \"I\nrepent me of having been so harsh with the sweet child. Let us say\nthat the poet wronged her; that in truth she faded away month by\nmonth, and grew silent, and shadowy, and saint-like, not knowing what\nwas the matter with her, but feeling a great need of God's love; and\nso died.\"\n\nWith a sigh through the smile of her ending, Mrs. Yorke passed\nnoiselessly from the room. The shadows of the vine-leaves seemed to\nstrain forward to catch at her white dress, and the sunlight dropping\nthrough turned her hair to gold. Then shadow and sunlight fell to the\nfloor and kissed her footsteps, missing her.\n\nMr. Yorke was out walking about his farm, inquiring of Patrick how\nmany months it took in that country for plants to get themselves\nabove ground; if green peas were due early in September; if cucumbers\nwere not in danger of freezing before they arrived at maturity; if\ntheir whole crop, in short, did not promise to give them their labor\nfor their pains; and making various other depreciatory comments which\nhis assistant inwardly resented. The young people sat in the parlor\nand improved their acquaintance. Soon they found themselves talking\nof personal matters and family plans, especially those relating to\nOwen.\n\nMr. Griffeth strongly urged his remaining in Seaton. \"I think it\nwould be better to remain if you should conclude to study law,\" he\nsaid. \"You could pursue your studies here without the distractions\nof a city life, and you could begin practice with a clearer field.\nYou would at once be prominent here, but in the city there would be a\ncrowd of able and experienced practitioners in your way.\"\n\n\"'I would rather be second in Athens than first in Eub\u0153a,'\" Carl\nobjected.\n\n\"Undoubtedly!\" was the immediate response. \"But you might save time\nby trying your wings in Eub\u0153a before essaying your flight in Athens.\"\n\nThe sister eagerly seconded the proposal, delighted with any plan by\nwhich they could keep their brother with them and yet not injure his\nprospects. Carl listened with favor. His new friend had completely\ncaptivated him; and, sure of such congenial companionship, Seaton\nappeared to him a tolerable place to live in.\n\n\"Of course, I am not quite disinterested,\" Mr. Griffeth said. \"I\nwant you to stay. But, also, it does seem to me well. The place is\npromising. I am told that it has some superior people, and that it is\ngrowing rapidly. My own coming was a chance, and already I rejoice in\nit. One impulse pushed me toward the south, another toward the north:\nobeying a philosophical law, I came east, and here I shall stay. I\nrecognized a Providence in it. May not you the same?\"\n\n\"Oh! do stay, Owen,\" Hester said, laying her hand on his arm.\n\n\"What can I do when the evening star pleads with me?\" said Carl with\na smile. When he was pleased with his youngest sister, he called her\nHesper.\n\n\"And you know, Carl, you promised to teach me to spell, this summer,\"\nsaid Clara. \"I cannot spell!\" she confessed to the minister.\n\n\"Madam, I congratulate you!\" he replied.\n\n\"But it is not ignorance,\" she said, blushing very much. \"English\nspelling is nothing but memory, you know. Now, my memory is situated\nin my heart, not my head, and it retains only what I love or hate.\nYou do not expect me to be fond of vowels and consonants, or\nenamored of poly-syllables, surely.\"\n\nThe minister protested that he was always enchanted to meet with an\neducated person who could not spell. It was, he said, the mark of a\nmind which catches so ardently at the soul of a word that it misses\nthe form. \"I have no doubt,\" he said, \"that you might talk with a\nperson a hundred times, and comprehend his character perfectly, yet\nnot be able to tell the color of his eyes nor the shape of his nose.\nYou could also go unerringly to a place you had once visited, though\nyou could not direct a person there. You do not gather your knowledge\nlike corn in the ear, but in the golden grain; and when anybody wants\nthe cob, you have to go searching about in waste places for it.\"\n\nMr. Yorke came in, and presently Mrs. Yorke, with a little\nsleep-mistiness hanging yet about her.\n\n\"Where have you been, auntie?\" cried Eugene Cleveland, running to\nher. He had his hands full of dandelion curls, which he began hanging\nin her ears, having thus adorned the young ladies.\n\n\"I have been to the land where dreams grow on trees,\" she said softly.\n\n\"Mr. Griffeth says that I am a little man,\" the child announced, with\nan air of consequence. The remark had been made an hour before, and\nwas not yet forgotten. The lad had indeed an exceedingly good opinion\nof himself, and never forgot a word of praise.\n\nClara called him to her. \"You are no more a man,\" she said, \"than\npotato-balls are potatoes.\"\n\nHe sobered instantly, and went about for some time with a very\nforlorn countenance. After awhile, when she had forgotten the\nremark, he came back to her. \"Cousin Clara, do potato-balls ever\ngrow into potatoes?\" he asked anxiously.\n\nIn the evening the Universalist deputation arrived, and took their\nminister away with them.\n\n\"Now, Pat, you mark my words,\" said Betsey, as she saw the family\nstand on the moonlight veranda to watch their visitor down the\navenue: \"that man will marry one of the Yorke girls.\"\n\nBetsey considered the speedy marriage of the young ladies a\nconsummation devoutly to be wished.\n\nPatrick was still smarting under the insults offered to his garden,\nand would not in any case have hailed the alliance of a minister\nwith the family. \"Oh, bali! they wouldn't look at him!\" he replied\ncrossly. \"A rogue of a minister, with his nose in the air!\"\n\n\"I have eyes in my head,\" said Betsey with dignity.\n\n\"And a bee in your bonnet,\" retorted the man.\n\nBetsey went into the house, banged the door behind her, and began\nsetting the kitchen to rights with great vigor. She swept up the\nhearth so fiercely that a cloud of ashes came out and settled on\nthe mantelpiece, and put the chairs back against the wall with an\nemphasis that made them rattle.\n\nPatrick put his head in at the door, prudently keeping his body out,\nand looked at her with a deprecating smile. \"Now, Betsey!\" he said.\n\n\"You needn't speak to me again, to-night,\" she exclaimed, looking\nseverely away from him. \"You've said enough for one time.\"\n\n\"And what have I said to you, Betsey?\"\n\nShe faced him. \"I wonder if in your country it is considered a\ncompliment to tell a woman that she has a bee in her bonnet,\" she\nsaid.\n\n\"Ah! is that where you are?\" said Pat, coming half into the room. \"I\nnever meant the least harm in my life. And, sure, Betsey, did ye ever\nsee a bonnet without a _b_?\"\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nFATHER RASLE.\n\nOne summer morning, Mr. Yorke appeared at the breakfast-table with\na very sour face. He was bilious, and he had not slept well. Even\nHester's cooing ways failed to mollify him.\n\n\"Why, you are feverish, papa,\" she said. \"Your hand is hot and dry.\"\n\nHe moved his chair impatiently. \"Yes, your mother insisted on my\ntaking charcoal instead of calomel, and I think she must have slily\nadministered a lucifer-match with it: I radiate heat.\"\n\nMrs. Yorke took these complaints very quietly. She knew that nothing\ncould be further from her husband's heart than to be dissatisfied\nwith anything she did. \"We were disturbed by that fearful noise,\" she\nsaid quietly, taking her place at the table.\n\nOwen began to laugh. The Seaton \"cast-iron band\" had been out the\nnight before, and the young man found himself very much amused by it.\n\n\"Do you like lawlessness, sir?\" demanded Mr. Yorke.\n\n\"That depends on what the law is,\" the son replied pleasantly.\n\n\"Well, sir, in this case it is the law of common decency, of respect\nfor the clergy, and courtesy to strangers. Father Rasle, the\nCatholic priest, came here yesterday, and that Babel of cow-bells,\nand sleigh-bells, and mill-saws, and tin trumpets, and wooden drums,\nand I know not what else, was before his door. I call it a shameful\noutrage.\"\n\n\"So do I,\" Owen replied promptly. \"I had no idea what it meant.\"\n\nThe young ladies all exclaimed indignantly; but Edith dropped her\neyes and was silent. Theology was nothing to her, and as yet her\nfaith had no life in it. She was deeply ashamed of that religion\nwhich all seemed to scoff at save those who tolerated it for her\nsake. Only her promise held her to it. That the voice of the people\nis not always, is very seldom, the voice of God, she could not be\nexpected to know; neither could she be expected to love that church\nwhich as yet she had heard spoken of only by its enemies. She did not\ndream of forsaking the religion of her mother; but her constancy to\nit seemed to her of the same nature as Mrs. Rowan's constancy to her\ndrunken husband.\n\nAfter breakfast, her uncle bade her dress to go with him to call on\nFather Rasle. She obeyed, though with a shrinking heart. She had\nheard priests spoken of in the street and by the school-children with\ncontempt and reviling, and her impression was that they must be very\ndisagreeable persons to meet. But the religion was hers, and she must\nstand by it, never confessing to a doubt nor allowing any one to\nreproach it unchallenged by her. And if she stood by the religion,\nshe must stand by the priest.\n\nFather Rasle, being only a missionary there, had no house in Seaton,\nbut stopped with a decent Irish family. It was a poor place, and the\nroom in which he received Mr. Yorke and his niece was as humble as\ncould well be imagined. But there needed no fine setting to show that\nhe was that noblest object on earth, a Christian gentleman. His age\nmight have been a little over forty, and his manner was almost too\ngrave and dignified, one might think at first; but it soon appeared\nthat he could be genial beyond most men.\n\nMr. Yorke presented his niece, and, before explaining their errand,\napologized for the insult that had been offered the priest the night\nbefore.\n\n\"Oh! I certainly did not expect the honor of a serenade,\" said Father\nRasle, laughing pleasantly. \"But, if it gratified them to give\nit, I am not in the least offended. It is, perhaps, a loss to me\nthat I did not care; for I might have derived some profit from the\nmortification. On the contrary, I own to you, sir, that I enjoyed\nthat concert. It was the most laughable one I ever heard.\"\n\nMr. Yorke looked at the speaker in astonishment. Here was a kind of\npride, if pride it could be called, which he could not understand.\nIn such circumstances, his own impulse would have been to shoot his\ninsulters down instantly. What he despised he wanted to crush, to rid\nthe earth of, to spare himself the sight of; what the priest despised\nhe pitied, he wished to raise, to excuse, to spare God and the world\nthe sight of. It was admirable, his visitor owned, but inimitable by\nhim.\n\nNot being able to say any more on the subject, he then stated Edith's\ncase. \"You will know what she needs,\" he concluded, \"and I shall see\nthat she follows your directions.\"\n\nThe father questioned his young catechumen, and found her in a state\nof the most perfect ignorance. \"The child is a heathen!\" he said,\nin his odd, broken English, his smile taking the harsh edge off the\nwords. \"She must study the catechism--this little one--and see how\nmuch of it she will have to say to me when I come here again in a\nmonth. I will then prepare her for her first confession.\"\n\nEdith uttered not a word, except to answer his questions. She was not\nsure whether she liked him or not; she was only certain that he did\nnot offend her.\n\nThere was a little more talk, then Mr. Yorke rose to go, cordially\ninviting the priest to visit him. As they were going, \"I think,\nEdith,\" he said, \"that you should kneel and ask Father Rasle's\nblessing.\"\n\nShe knelt at once, for her mother's and her uncle's sake, with a\nmurmured, \"Please to bless me, sir!\" But when he had given the\nblessing, laying his hand upon her head, and looking down into\nher face with that expression of serious sweetness, she felt a\ndawning sense of reverence and confidence, and perceived dimly some\nsacredness in him.\n\nShe went to Mass the next day in the little chapel that had been\ndesecrated. The picture-frames still hung on the walls, with the rags\nof the stations in them. There was enough left to show how Christ the\nLord had suffered, and this new insult was but a freshening of the\noriginal text. Mr. Yorke sat on the bench beside his niece, and she\nstood, or knelt, or sat with the rest, not in the least understanding\nwhat it all meant, but impressed by the gravity and earnestness of\nthose around her. When Mass was over, the priest, who had seen them,\nsent for them into the sacristy. He had some books for Edith, and\nwanted to point out the lessons she was to learn first.\n\n\"And I have a present for you,\" he said, giving her an ormolu\ncrucifix, with a broken foot that showed marks of violence. \"This is\nthe crucifix that was torn from our tabernacle. I want you to keep\nit; and whenever you are called upon to suffer, and feel disposed\nto complain, look at this, and remember that our Lord was not even\nallowed to hang upon his cross in peace.\"\n\nShe took the crucifix from his hand silently, and held it against\nher breast as she went out. She did not propose to endure suffering;\nshe desired and looked for happiness; but something in this relic\nstirred her to a strange pity, mingled with anger. The idea that lay\nbehind it was to her dim and vague; but, failing to grasp that, she\nwould have defended with her life the symbol of that monstrous wrong\nand that heart-breaking patience. Reaching home, she went directly\nto her own chamber and hung the crucifix beneath the picture of her\nfather, then stood and looked at it awhile. There was a wish in her\nheart to do something--to offer some reparation to the real Sufferer\nbehind this image of pain. She kissed with soft lips the broken foot\nof the cross, and a tear fell where she kissed. She took it down,\nand pressed the rough edge against her bosom till the sharp points\npierced the skin and brought a stain of blood. Then, hearing some\none call her, she hastily replaced it, and brought as an offering to\nit a precious bouquet of ribbon-grasses, that Carl had gathered that\nmorning to fasten in her hair. She had meant to keep it because of\nsome sweetness with which it was offered, but now she gave it up to\nthat unseen Patience and Love. Her instinctive action proved that\nthe feeling and precept of the church only sanctifies, but does not\nchange the impulse of a pure and tender nature.\n\nMeantime, the child was being discussed down-stairs.\n\n\"I observe that Edith has an inclination to stay alone a good deal,\"\nMr. Yorke said, \"and I do not wish to have that encouraged. It is not\na wholesome disposition. Her father was a visionary, her mother was a\nvisionary, and she is--\"\n\n\"A vision!\" concluded Mrs. Yorke, as Edith appeared, with the\nthoughts of the last few hours still in her eyes and on her lips.\n\nAbout that time, Carl received a letter from Miss Mills which he\nread many times. \"You ask my advice,\" she wrote, \"and you tell me\nthat I know better than you know yourself. I would not claim so much\nas that, but I think I may tell you something more clearly than you\nyourself perceive it, or confirm you in some thought which you doubt\nor wish to doubt. As to your choice of a profession and staying in\nSeaton for the present, you might well try the experiment; but I\ncannot express any great confidence as to the result. It is almost\na disadvantage to you that your powers are so various. There are a\ngood many things which, with application, you could do excellently;\nwhether you have any specialty remains to be proved, and will be hard\nto prove; for, in order to find that out, you must concentrate your\npowers, and that you hate to do. If this world were but a playground,\nthen you would have nothing to do but follow in the trail of every\nnew beauty which calls you; but life is earnest, and you must\nwork, or you not only lose what you might accomplish, but you lose\nyourself. You are one of those whom the devil finds worth fighting\nfor, and, lacking faith to your armor, you have all the more need of\nlabor. _Qui laborat orat_, might have a sort of truth even for one\nwithout faith.\n\n\"Let me warn you against two dangers: one is, that you may be injured\nby flatterers. Not that you like flattery in itself, but it will\nsoothe your painful sense of not having reached your own ideal. It\nwill seem to you that your best must have transpired at least, and\nthat you must have done better than you thought. Not so; receive that\nsoothing praise only when you have striven hard, even though you\nfailed, but never when you have tried weakly or not at all. What the\nflatterers like in you is not your best, but your worst. They have no\nwish for you to rise above them; they praise you to keep you low.\n\n\"I warn you, too, against your excessive love for the beautiful, in\nwhich you are an ultra-pagan. The infinite beauty is alone worthy of\nthat passion with which you seek and admire; and infinite beauty is\ninfinite truth. Seek truth first, and you will always be rewarded by\nthe vision of beauty; but, if you seek beauty first, you will find to\nyour sorrow, possibly to your ruin, that it is often but the mask of\nfalsehood.\n\n\"Lay aside some of your fastidiousness, my dear friend, and take up\nyour life strongly with both hands. Do something, even if it should\nprove to be the wrong thing. Wrong work done honestly prepares us\nfor right work. Strengthen your will, and be manly, as a man should\nbe. Discipline yourself, and you will escape much pain and loss of\ntime, for, let me assure you, Carl, you need either an immensity of\nresolution or an immensity of suffering.\n\n\"My lecture is done, and I am Minerva no longer. My thoughts follow\nyou with solicitude and indulgence. On the night after you left,\nwhich you spent on the sea, I went to the quiet chapel near me, and\nplaced you under the protection of _Stella Maris_. But life has waves\nand gulfs more fearful than those of the sea, and my prayers for you\ndo not cease with the end of your journey.\n\n\"Look well at Robert Yorke's child, remembering what the story of my\nlife is; and then, if you think that I could love her, kiss her on\nthe forehead for me, and tell her that I send a loving greeting.\"\n\nOwen folded the letter, and hid it in his bosom. He had been walking\nin the woods, and he returned thoughtfully homeward. The afternoon\nwas sultry and still. The low brooks hissed along like white flames,\nthe branches drooped over the birds that murmured, and the flowers\nhung wilted. All about the house was silent as he entered. Going\nthrough the kitchen, he saw Betsey sitting in the northern window\nreading a novel. Betsey was the most romantic soul alive, and, having\ngot hold of _David Copperfield_, was crying her eyes out over poor\nlittle Dora. Passing on to the sitting-room, he found his father\nsitting asleep in a deep wicker-chair, a copy of _Religio Medici_\nlying open on his knee. The quiet tone of the book, familiar by many\nreadings, had lulled him into a pleasant slumber, and his hand had\ndropped with the finger pointing to a passage on which he had closed\nhis eyes: \"I love to love myself in a mystery, to pursue my reason to\nan _O altitudo_!\" From that the reader had gone out into the mystery\nof sleep with a smile lingering on his face.\n\n\"It is the castle of indolence,\" muttered Owen, stepping noiselessly\non. He paused at the foot of the stairs and listened. No sound came\ndown. His sisters, in white wrappers, each with a pillow under her\nhead, were lying on the cool matting in the north chamber, too much\nexhausted to talk. He went out into the portico, and stood there a\nmoment, seeing no one. Then, turning, he beheld Edith asleep on a\nbench in the shadow of the vines, her arms thrown up over her head.\nSmilingly he approached her, literally to obey the command of his\nfriend, and look well to see if his uncle's deserted mistress could\nlove his uncle's child. She was fair enough to love, for all the\nroughness of her former life had passed away. The bloom of the lily\nwas in her face, warmed now to a rose by the heat, and her hair had a\nshine of gold.\n\n\"Dear little cousin,\" he said, \"a friend of yours sends loving\ngreeting.\"\n\nShe stirred, her face grew troubled, and she started up with a cry:\n\"Dick, come back. I did not mean to!\"\n\nShe sighed on seeing Owen. \"I was dreaming that I had hurt Dick, and\nhe was going away angry,\" she said.\n\n\"Are you, then, so fond of him?\" Carl asked, seating himself by her.\n\n\"O Carl!\" she said earnestly, \"you have no idea how fond he is of me.\"\n\n\"And you of him, then, of course,\" said Carl.\n\n\"Why, of course!\" she echoed, with a look of surprise. \"If I were\nto do anything to Dick to make him unhappy, I should never forgive\nmyself, never! I have written him a letter to-day, and told him I\nwant him to be a Catholic.\"\n\n\"You have!\" said Carl with a faint smile. \"Do you think he will obey\nyou?\"\n\n\"Oh! yes,\" she said confidently; \"I told him some good reasons why he\nshould.\"\n\nAnd may I ask what the good reasons were, Edith?\" was the smiling\nquestion.\n\n\"Why, in the first place, I want him to.\"\n\n\"Excellent!\" laughed the young man. \"The doctors couldn't do better.\"\n\nEdith blushed deeply. \"No; the good reasons were the reasons why I\nwanted him to,\" she said.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nSAINT CECILIA.\n\nHER INFLUENCE ON LITERATURE AND THE ARTS.\n\nFROM THE REVUE GENERALE.\n\n\nWhile the great men who have dreamed of distinguishing their names\ndie and are forgotten, or at least, as Juvenal said of Alexander,\nbecome the idle theme of a rhetorical recitation, those who in this\nworld have lived and suffered for God leave behind them, through all\nages, an immortal memory.\n\nThe work for which each of us has been sent into the world has\nbeen conspicuously accomplished by the saints. This makes them our\nrightful masters; and, while we rarely imitate them, we can at\nleast understand that such heroism must elevate the soul, and we\nadmire them all the more that we feel ourselves unable to follow in\ntheir steps. Nor is such a recognition a useless sentiment. From\nthe mansion of glory whence they see all things, the saints never\ncease to interest themselves in the affairs of the world, and among\nthe dogmas of the Catholic Church which our estranged brethren have\nrejected, the communion of saints is one of the most touching and\nsublime.\n\nThere is indeed between the two worlds, visible and invisible, a\nstrange but undeniable communication. Each of us, in investigating\nhis own soul, will find there certain phenomena which have their\norigin neither in ourselves nor in the outer world: sadness from\nno apparent cause, inexplicable sensations of internal happiness,\nbursts of enthusiasm or sudden inspirations which Plato attributed\nto superior intelligences. Many of us, recalling some miraculously\nescaped danger, and profoundly touched by this heavenly protection,\nwill bear willing witness, unless checked by dread of worldly\ncriticism, to this influence of the saints and angels on our human\ncareer. \"The people,\" with the good sense which so happily inspires\nthem (at least, where the sophists have not succeeded in corrupting\nthem)--\"the people\" believe in it; and when the peasant or the poor\nworking-woman gives a name in baptism to the child just entering on\nthe struggles of life, she believes, in her simple, lucid faith, that\nshe is securing a patron for it. It is not in vain, they say, that a\nyoung girl is called Mary; surely she will the more readily share in\nthe sweetness, the self-denial, the incomparable purity, of the Queen\nof Virgins; the name of Agnes will be a pledge of innocence; that of\nTheresa promises a heart of fire; that of Cecilia, a soul gentle yet\nstrong, eager for harmony; while the name of Francis recalls heroic\nisolation; those of Paul and of John, indefatigable zeal and perfect\ncharity. If it is not always thus, it is because the human soul is\nfree to resist grace; but these occasional rebellions do not prevent\na harmony between heaven and earth as mysterious as it is sure.\n\nThese thoughts have frequently passed through our mind; but one day\nlast October, while visiting the church of St. Cecilia in Rome, they\nmonopolized it.\n\nIn such moments, we persuade ourselves very easily that we can\nexpress them in writing. Undoubtedly, they are not new; but, if the\nlife of this great saint, one of the glories of Rome, is well known,\nit is a story which will bear repetition: really fine old melodies\nnever lose their charm, and, if they thrill one human soul with a\ndivine emotion, who will complain of hearing them again?\n\n\nHISTORY OF SAINT CECILIA.\n\nIn the year 250 after Christ, in the reign of Septimus Severus, at a\ntime when the Roman Empire was still the most formidable power of the\nworld, there lived in Rome a young girl who will be famous when the\nimperial glories shall be forgotten.\n\nBeauty, the reflection of heaven in the human countenance; grace,\nmysterious charm whose origin is invisible; modesty, that exquisite\nreserve of a virgin soul; nobility, precious perfume of the past;\nand, above all, the power of loving, the most magnificent and the\nmost powerful present of the Creator to the created: all these gifts\nwere united in the daughter of C\u00e6cilius. It was an illustrious\nfamily: in the records of the Republic it counted eighteen consuls\nand several conquerors, nor had it degenerated under the Empire.\n\nTo-day, when the traveller, weary from a day spent in the galleries\nof Rome, setting forth from the city towards sunset, wanders\npensively down the long Appian Way, while he contemplates with\nemotion the outlines of the aqueducts with their broken arches,\nthe Sabine mountains gilded by the light, and all that celebrated\nlandscape of the environs of Rome, majestic and melancholy as a\nfallen queen, he finds upon his right, rising like a great tower,\nthe tomb of C\u00e6cilia Metella. There slept of yore the long-forgotten\nancestress of her who will render immortal, for time and for\neternity, the name of C\u00e6cilius.\n\nCecilia was eighteen. The Roman poor knew her charity. Often had they\nseen her in the caves of the martyrs alone, or only accompanied by\na faithful servant. Her father, although he respected her religion,\ndid not share it: he hoped, indeed, at a suitable time to marry his\ndaughter to some distinguished husband, and to see himself, through\nher, live again in her beloved children. But Cecilia had raised her\nheart above this world, and night and day prayed that the palm of\nvirginity she had dreamed of should not be taken from her.\n\nHe whom her parents had chosen for her seemed not unworthy of the\nhonor. Though still a pagan, Valerian possessed at least those\nnatural gifts which prepare the soul for faith, hope, and charity,\nthe supernatural gifts of Christ crucified. Nevertheless, who can\nexpress the fears of the young Christian? Had not God accepted all\nher heart as she had offered it? Could a pagan understand this\nmystery, and would not this union of the soul with an invisible\nspouse seem a strange folly to a man still living in the world of the\nsenses? More than one Christian soul has felt these chaste doubts.\nIt is honorable to hesitate before making for a mortal a sacrifice\nfor which a young girl sometimes can never console herself. Cecilia\nfelt these terrors most acutely, but she loved God well enough to\nfeel perfect confidence in him. So she poured forth her whole soul in\nprayer, and, against all hope, trusted in his aid.\n\nSo, when, towards evening, already married in the eyes of the world,\nshe found herself alone with her husband, she said to him in that\nincomparable conversation whose charm has come down to us in her life:\n\n\"There is a secret, Valerian, that I wish to confide to you. I have a\nlover, an angel of God, who watches over me with jealous care. If you\npreserve inviolate my virginity, he will love you also as he loves\nme, and will overpower you with his favors.\"\n\nMuch astonished, Valerian wished to know this angel.\n\n\"You shall see him,\" said Cecilia, \"when you are purified.\"\n\n\"How shall I become so?\"\n\n\"Go to Urban. When the poor hear my name, they will take you to his\nsanctuary: he will explain to you our mysteries.\"\n\nDrawn by an unknown power, the young man consented to go. We know\nthe result of this decision--his interview with the Pope in the\ncatacombs, his conversion, and his baptism. Still dressed in his\nwhite robe, he returned to Cecilia. He could now understand the love\nof the angels, and its perfect beauty. In future, he loved Cecilia as\nhis sister in God, to whom belong the heart and mind.\n\nIn those Christian ages others loved as he did. Undoubtedly most of\nthem carried their secret with them to the tomb; but among those\nwhose genius has made them famous, Dante had his Beatrice; Petrarch\nsang of Laura: and these pure loves, unknown to the ancient pagans,\nand scoffed at by our modern pagans, will remain an ornament to the\nsoul, an act of faith in its immortality, and for us who read their\nhistory a breath of heaven on earth.\n\nNo one knows what conversation took place, in those hours of rapture\nand prayer, between this pair, whose marriage was to be perfected in\nheaven; what thanksgivings they rendered to God, who in a moment\ntransforms hearts: nor would it be easy to describe. Of all the arts,\nmusic alone might perhaps dare to attempt it, and the revelation\nwould require the genius of Handel or Beethoven.\n\nIn his ardent zeal, Valerian, like Cecilia, understood the value of\nthe soul.\n\nSo, when the beloved brother Tiburtius sought them, what eloquence\nthey displayed to prove to him that his gods were only idols! Subdued\nby the mysterious charm of the Christian virgin, conquered by the\neagerness of the convert, Tiburtius also wished to see the angel who\nwatched over Cecilia. If for this it was necessary to be purified,\npurified he would be; and thus became the first conquest of his\nbrother, who had besought God for it.\n\nSuch souls were too beautiful for pagan Rome. In the absence of\nSeptimus Severus, Almachius, the governor, summoned Valerian and\nTiburtius before his tribunal. The two young patricians avowed their\nfaith in Christ, to the great scandal of the worldly and prosperous.\nValerian went to his martyrdom as to a triumph. He went to wait for\nCecilia in heaven.\n\nTiburtius did not forsake him. On the Appian Way, four miles from the\ncity, they were beheaded for having dared to worship a different God\nfrom those of the Empire. Cecilia piously reclaimed their bodies,\nand prepared to rejoin them. Called in her turn to answer for her\nconduct, she disconcerted the judge. Before such purity, innocence,\nand heroism, entreaties, artifices, and threats failed; the daughter\nof C\u00e6cilius, convicted of loving the poor and a crucified God, was\ninstantly confined in the bath-room of her own house, there to be\nsuffocated in a hot vapor bath. But in the midst of this fiery\natmosphere she remained uninjured. The stupefied jailers related how\nthey had discovered her singing the praises of God. Such a delusion\ncould but provoke Almachius. The executioner was summoned. With a\ntrembling hand, he inflicted three wounds on the neck of the virgin\nmartyr, without succeeding in severing the head. Then, terrified\nhimself, he fled. Stretched on the flags, bathed in her blood,\nCecilia lived three days. The Christians gathered round her. She was\nable to bid farewell to the poor, to whom she had bequeathed her\nproperty. Then, feeling her strength fail, while Urban was in the\nact of giving her his blessing, she drew her robe around her, and,\nturning her face away, gave back her soul to God.\n\nAccording to her last desire, the Pope transformed the house that\nhad witnessed her martyrdom into a church. The bath-room became a\nchapel; and by its arrangement bears witness to-day to the truth of\nthe saint's life. One can still see the mouth of the pipes which let\nin the vapor, covered with a grating; and on the same flags where the\nRoman virgin expired, the kneeling Christian can ponder in his heart\nthe example of heroism that she has given to the world. He who has\nnot had the good fortune to pray on the tombs of the martyrs cannot\nappreciate the strength one finds there, or what precepts their\nrelics give forth. The martyrs are the incontrovertible witnesses of\nthe value of faith, of the power of love; and it is said that their\nbeatified spirits lend to these bones, which were their bodies, an\nall-powerful eloquence.\n\nThe remains of the young girl were taken down into the catacombs of\nSt. Callixtus, and remained there six centuries. After the invasion\nof the Lombards, most unhappily, all trace was lost of them till, in\n822, the place where they were hidden was revealed to Pope St. Pascal.\n\nThe long-sought coffin was placed in the basilica of St. Cecilia,\nwhich had been repaired by the Pope's care. It was placed under the\nhigh altar. And even in our day the custodian points out to the\npilgrim a curious fresco of the thirteenth century, representing\nthe apparition of the saint to the sleeping Pope. In 1599, Cardinal\nSfondrate ordered the tomb to be opened with solemnity. To the great\ndelight of Christian Rome, the corpse of the Roman virgin, respected\nby centuries, appeared, miraculously preserved.\n\nThe chaste folds of her dress were restrained by a girdle. At her\nfeet were found the blood-stained cloths which had bound her wounds;\nand her arms, thrust forward, still seemed to serve as a veil. Three\nfingers of her right hand were open, only one of the left, as if\neven in dying she had wished to avow her belief in one God in three\npersons. Finally, so that she might not give to the world her last\nlook, but think only of Christ, her spouse, by a supreme effort she\nhad turned her head aside.\n\nThus she reposes on her bier of cypress; thus extended on the flags\nshe had died; and thus a great artist has faithfully represented her\nto us. The celebrated statue of Etienne Maderno, lying on its side,\nfull of modesty and of grace, seems the dying virgin herself; and the\nwhiteness of the marble, which so resembles the paleness of death,\nadds yet more to the illusion. Seen in this honored place, in this\nhouse which was the saint's and has become God's, this masterpiece\nof Christian sculpture, admirably executed and in exquisite taste,\ntouches the heart profoundly.\n\n\nTHE INFLUENCE OF ST. CECILIA ON LITERATURE.\n\nSuch a beautiful story could not fail to be repeated. As long as the\npersecutions lasted, to strengthen their courage, the faithful passed\nfrom mouth to mouth these details which had been so affectionately\ncollected. So great, indeed, was the enthusiasm for the memory of\nCecilia that she obtained the great and rare honor of being mentioned\nin the canon of the Mass with Saints Felicitas, Perpetua, Agatha,\nLucy, Agnes, and Anastasia. Thus for fifteen centuries, throughout\nthe Catholic world, wherever the holy sacrifice is celebrated, her\nname is invoked; and, truly immortal, each hour, each moment perhaps,\nher memory rises from earth to heaven with incense and with prayer.\n\nHer acts, chronicled in the fifth century, have since then been\nthe subject of several works. We shall only mention the Greek\ntranslation of Simeon Metaphrastes, the verses of St. Adhelme and\nof the Venerable Bede in England, the works of Flodoard at Rheims,\nand Rhoban Maur. Then, during that magnificent efflorescence of\nphilosophy and Catholic literature, we see Victor de Beauvais\nrelate the story of St. Cecilia;[109] Albert the Great, St. Thomas\nAquinas, St. Bonaventure, preaching several sermons in her honor. In\nthe fifteenth century, the eloquent St. Vincent Ferrer recited her\npraises; but the Reformation came soon after, and it is only in Italy\nnow that they think of the glories of St. Cecilia.\n\nIn vain her history is its own defence; in vain may it claim in its\nfavor the imposing testimony of Christian tradition, in the East as\nin the West, during fourteen centuries; in vain the liturgies of\nthe churches of Rome, of Milan, of Toledo, of Greece, and of Gaul\nhave inserted in the office for the 22d of November fragments of\nthe text; in vain even the discovery of her body testified anew to\nits veracity. Towards the middle of the seventeenth century, the\nJansenist school rejected it.\n\nThe historical works on the first centuries of Christianity which\nduring the last forty years have been undertaken in France and\nGermany, by tracing out the original sources with scrupulous care,\nand taking advantage of monuments, have dealt justly with this\nexcessive criticism.\n\nBut error is more prone to spread than easy to uproot. Launoy, that\n\"great demolisher of saints,\" who, in attacking the most poetic\nbeliefs of the faithful, strayed into the road to rationalism, made a\nschool. Even now Feller's _Dictionary of Universal Biography_, and,\nfollowing him (for these works usually copy each other), those of\nMichaud and of F. Didot, have repeated, on the authority of Tillemont\nand of Baillet, that the authenticity of the life of St. Cecilia is\nvery doubtful, although the arguments cited in support of this thesis\nhad been successfully refuted by Laderchi early in the eighteenth\ncentury,[110] and annihilated for ever twenty years ago by R. P. Dom\nGu\u00e9ranger, in his excellent book on St. Cecilia.[111]\n\nThe touching story of St. Cecilia must also inspire poets. Without\nmentioning the ancient hymns to be found in the Italian, Spanish,\nand Gallic liturgies, several poems in her honor may be quoted. At\nthe time of the Renaissance, Baptiste Spagnuolo made it the subject\nof a real epic poem, where we find, as in the _\u00c6neid_, the speeches\nof Venus and Juno, and the conspiracies of the inhabitants of Olympus\nagainst common mortals. The god of pagan love, accompanied by his\nmother, comes sadly to Juno to complain of the disdain of Cecilia,\nwho wishes to remain a virgin. Forgetting her resentment, the wife\nof Jupiter inspires the father of Cecilia with the idea of uniting\nhis daughter to a pagan. Foiled in their attempt by the conversion of\nValerian, the angry goddess instigated Mars to suggest to Almachius\nthe plan of drowning in blood this Christian band, rebels against the\nOlympian gods. Among the nine hundred verses may be found some fine\nones, but we must confess that these unfortunate pagan reminiscences,\nso popular in the sixteenth century, ruin the poet's work for us.\n\nHappily, the Roman virgin was to have her life, her death, and her\nglories sung in poems of purer inspiration. Angelus Tangrinus,\npriest of Monte Cassino,[112] wrote on this subject a long\nepithalamium,[113] which lacks neither grace of expression nor of\nthought.\n\nThe English poet Pope has also written an ode to St. Cecilia. The\npoem is elegantly versified, but cold and unmarked by any Christian\nfeeling. The classic author recalls the magical effect of music in\nall ages, nor has he forgotten the adventure of Eurydice; he speaks\nwith complacency of the Styx and of Phlegethon, of Ixion and of\nSisyphus, of Proserpine and the Elysian Fields. Finally, feeling a\npang of remorse, and remembering that he had dedicated his ode to\na virgin martyr, he asserts that the poets must instantly abandon\nOrpheus and proclaim Cecilia the queen of music; for if the musician\nof Thrace drew by his music a spirit from hell, Cecilia by hers\nraised the soul to heaven.[114]\n\nVery recently, Count Anatole de S\u00e9gur has published a dramatic poem,\nwhich seems to us the finest homage that poetry has yet offered to\nSt. Cecilia. The style pure and musical, the interest sustained\nand engrossing, it merits the praises which the best judges have\nbestowed on it;[115] and we should willingly quote some verses of\nthis exquisite book,[116] did we not prefer to leave our readers the\npleasure of perusing it as a whole.\n\n\nTHE INFLUENCE OF SAINT CECILIA ON THE FINE ARTS.\n\nWe have seen the story of St. Cecilia inspire eloquence and poetry,\nbut it was destined to exercise a still greater influence on the\nfine arts. There are, indeed, some general rules for these intimate\nrelations between art and holiness that it would be well to remember.\nBesides, we may say that the saints were themselves powerful artists.\nWho has sought the ideal more eagerly than these indefatigable lovers\nof heavenly things? But they have not contented themselves with\nseeking infinite beauty in an abstract form; they have endeavored,\nas far as it was possible to human weakness, to realize it in their\nlives. As the sculptor cuts into a block of marble to render it\ninto beautiful forms, they, with obstinate labor, have sought to\nmodel their souls, to render them more pure, less unworthy of God.\nThe contemplation of martyrdom, so habitual to the first Christians,\ngave them that serene dignity now become so rare. As a bride\nprepares herself for the bridegroom, so did these souls of virgins,\nof mothers, of the young and of the old, endeavor, day by day, to\ngrow in grace in the eyes of Jesus Christ, till the blade of the\nexecutioner harvested them for heaven. The soul, grown beautiful,\ntransfigures in its turn the body which it animates, and the living\nmirror of the countenance reflects strength and gentleness, peace and\nardent zeal, purity and ecstatic rapture. Thus we may fairly conclude\nthat Christianity has offered to artists, through the saints, not\nonly the perfection of form, but a type of human beauty elevated by\nan ever-constant love.\n\nBut why was St. Cecilia singled out from such an innumerable band\nof the beatified to become especially dear to artists? Many others,\ngifted with all worldly advantages, in all the radiance of youth and\nbeauty, died, like her, virgins and martyrs, without attaining her\ndistinction. We will examine later the motives of the musicians in\ntaking her for their patron. As for the artists, they had no long\ndiscussion on the causes of this secret sympathy. Each one, when he\ndreamed of heaven, painted Cecilia, saying to himself, probably,\nthat there was not in the world a young girl's face which could so\nperfectly express the rapture of the soul listening to ineffable\nharmony.\n\nIt would require time to glance even hastily over the long gallery\nof pictures of which our saint has been the subject. We will only\nmention the most celebrated. It is probable that many, scattered\nthrough the many galleries of Europe, have escaped us; but we wish\nonly to discuss those which we have appreciated with our own eyes,\nand, also, the limits of this article would prevent our attempting to\nmention all.\n\nIn order to preserve some regularity in this examination, and that\nit may not become an adventurous journey through all ages and\ncountries in search of pictures of St. Cecilia, we will separate\nthese works into three classes, and, according to their nature and\ntheir predominant tendencies, we will class them, one by one, in the\nsensualistic, rationalistic, and mystical schools.[117] Nevertheless,\nwe must say that here, as in all other classification, the confines\nof each class are very apt to mingle with each other. Sometimes,\nindeed, in the same picture one figure will express sensuality and\nthe others religious emotion.[118]\n\nBut let us render judgment on the entire effect of the picture and\nits predominant tendency. We must repeat here that in all artistic\nworks we note two things: first, the idea of the artist, and, in\nconsequence, the order of psychological effect--sensual pleasures,\nspiritual joy, or heartfelt rapture--which the picture gives rise\nto in the souls of those who behold it; secondly, the execution,\nthe dexterity, more or less perfect, with which the idea has been\nexpressed, and, consequently, the greater or less satisfaction felt\nby connoisseurs, whom a special education has fitted to appreciate\nthe technical merits or faults of a picture. These are two widely\ndifferent points of view; and, to be just, one should specify from\nwhich standpoint a picture is judged, for it might easily happen that\nthe spirit of a picture would be really beautiful and the execution\nvery feeble; the coloring perhaps unpleasing, the perspective faulty,\nor even the drawing incorrect.\n\nFirst, The sensual school. Among the greatest geniuses, Rubens,\nperhaps, falls oftenest into sensualism. It is to the senses, indeed,\nthat he usually addresses himself; hence the vividness of his\ncoloring, the brilliancy of the flesh, which seems palpitating with\nlife and ready to rebound under the critic's finger. But, indeed,\nexcept \"The Descent from the Cross\" and \"The Elevation of the Cross,\"\nnothing could be less religious than most of his religious pictures.\nIn vain his \"St. Cecilia\" passionately raises her eyes; her plumpness\nand her dress wake only worldly thoughts. Others may admire the\nintensity of the flesh tints, the lustre of the robes. We think such\nexuberant health little suited to the young Christian who watched\nand fasted the more entirely to give herself up to prayer. As for\nthe pouting cherubs which frolic round her, they are not adapted for\ninspiring heavenly aspirations.\n\nBut let us look no longer to the sensual school for a type of\nbeauty which it cannot give us. Let us see how St. Cecilia has been\nunderstood by those artists who, without troubling themselves much to\nexpress Christian ideas, have, at least, endeavored to satisfy the\nintelligence and to appeal to the mind through the eyes.\n\nSecond, The rationalistic school. Of all the painters whom we class\nunder the name of the rationalistic school (that is, spiritual\nwithout being Christian), Domenichino is the most celebrated, or, at\nleast, the one who has consecrated the most important works to the\nglory of St. Cecilia. His frescoes in the church of St. Louis des\nFran\u00e7ais, at Rome, are considered classics. There we see St. Cecilia\ndistributing, from the terrace of her house, her garments to a crowd\nof poor people, who, in picturesque groups, are disputing over them.\nThen, Almachius, on his judgment-seat, commanding, by an imperative\ngesture, the saint to sacrifice to the idols. But she expresses\nwith dignity her horror; and it is in vain for the priests to offer\na goat, and in vain incense smokes on a tripod before a statue of\nJupiter. Here Cecilia dies, surrounded by kneeling women; some\nwatching her, others putting the blood from her wounds into vases\nby the aid of sponges. In the meanwhile, the Pope, Urban, gives her\nhis blessing, and an angel brings her, from heaven, a crown and a\npalm. In yet another fresco, an angel presents crowns to Cecilia and\nValerian. And last, on the ceiling is painted the apotheosis of the\nsaint supported in the arms of angels, and borne to heaven.[119]\n\nBut Domenichino's picture in the great gallery of the Louvre is more\ngenerally known than the frescoes of St. Louis. Here St. Cecilia\nis standing, and while she sings the glories of God, accompanying\nherself on a violoncello, an angel offers her a music-book. But she\ndoes not heed it, and raises to heaven eyes that seem just melting\nin tears. Undoubtedly the head is truly dignified and inspired, but\nwe must regret that the religious sentiment is not more manifest in\nthis fine picture, for without the nimbus round the head one might\ntake the saint for a sibyl.[120]\n\nGuido, with his usual grace, has represented Cecilia dying, lying on\nher side, as in Maderno's statue. She has, however, her arms crossed\nupon her breast, and the head is not turned aside; two women staunch\nher bleeding wounds with cloths, and in the background an angel holds\na palm, which he hastens to give her.\n\nTo Annibal Carracci is usually attributed the St. Cecilia which\nis to be found in the Museum of the Capitol at Rome. At all\nevents, one easily recognizes, by a certain shade of naturalism,\na work of the Bologna school. As before, the saint is singing and\naccompanying herself on an organ; but here, we see beside her the\nBlessed Virgin holding the infant Jesus in her arms, and a Dominican\npriest--expressive faces, apparently enraptured with the celestial\nconcert.\n\nThe majority of French artists, above all in the reign of Louis\nXIV., belong to the rationalistic school. Their composition is\nclever, their drawing correct, the style dignified, sometimes almost\ntheatrical. They are indeed almost always natural, but with the\nexception of some of Lesueur's, one rarely perceives in their works\nthe inspiration of a superhuman emotion. There are in the galleries\nof French art in the Louvre two pictures which do not contradict\nthese observations. Jacques Stella, who lived during the first half\nof the seventeenth century, has left us a St. Cecilia. She is\nstanding playing on an organ, her eyes modestly lowered, while two\nangels are singing at her side. She wears a wreath of roses in her\nhair; but, more charming than inspired, resembles the portrait of a\nyoung girl of the age of Louis XIII. with a taste for music.\n\nMignard's picture is, however, more celebrated. Of finished\nexecution, perfect in detail, so that even the glimpse of landscape\nseen through the pillars of the portico is treated with great care,\nit inspires artists with admiration also by the beauty of its\ncoloring. The saint, richly dressed, and wearing a large turban,\nwhich gives her a very oriental look, is seated playing on the harp.\nNo wonder that this picture pleased the king, or that he desired it\nto adorn his collection. Unfortunately, all this magnificence fails\nto move us. We see the Persian sibyl executing a prelude to her\noracles, but nothing reminds us of Rome and the early martyrs, and\nneither in the piteous figures nor in those up-raised eyes can we\ntrace any Christian feeling.[121]\n\nThird, the mystical school. Beyond the region of the senses and of\nthat which usually bounds the human spirit, opens the supernatural\nand divine world. One cannot enter here without a pure heart, and\nto enjoy its beauty we must by prayer and humility, those two wings\nof the soul, rise above ourselves and transitory things. Thus the\nmystical school of art, disdained by hypercritical connoisseurs,\nrequires a sort of moral preparation, and might write above its\ndoor, as a salutary warning, \"Let none enter here save him who loves\nGod entirely.\" It is here that we must finally seek the type of St.\nCecilia in all its supernatural beauty: a human face illuminated by\necstasy.\n\nWe shall only mention, for the satisfaction of antiquaries, the\nSt. Cecilia of Cimabue at the entrance to the magnificent Uffizi\nGallery at Florence. This also is a type of the Byzantine virgin,\nnot however without a certain majesty in its stiffness. Far more\ncelestial is the impression left on us by the St. Cecilia of\nblessed Fra Angelico da Fiesole, in that wonderful picture of the\n\"Incoronazione della Vergine,\" which so worthily commences the great\ngallery of the Louvre. Cecilia is in the foreground, close to St.\nMagdalen, recognizable by her long golden hair. Entirely absorbed in\nthe contemplation of Christ, and indifferent to the world, she turns\naway, so that one sees only the long blue mantle and the crown of\nroses, emblems of virginity, which encircles her head. Nevertheless,\nthe lost profile which we can only glance at is not without grace,\nand suggests a countenance radiant with love and purity.\n\nTo the mystical school also may be attributed five little pictures by\nPinturicchio in the gallery at Berlin, which were much admired by Dom\nGu\u00e9ranger. Undoubtedly, Pinturicchio has none of Cimabue's stiffness;\nwe willingly acknowledge his ease and natural grace; but how far he\nis from the angelic touch of Beato, or the perfection of Raphael!\n\nPerhaps Bologna contains the largest array of fine pictures. In the\nchapel of St. Cecilia, behind St. Giacomo Maggiore, ten admirable\nfrescoes represent the entire history of St. Cecilia. By the hand\nof Francesco Francia himself, we have her marriage with Valerian,\nand her funeral; six other scenes were painted by his pupils, G.\nFrancia, Chiodarolo, and Aspertini. The two representing Pope Urban\ninstructing Tiburtius, and the virgin distributing her property to\nthe poor, are considered Lorenzo Casta's masterpieces. But it is to\nthe Museum one must turn to admire the St. Cecilia of Raphael, one\nof the most beautiful of pictures, and certainly the most splendid\nhomage offered by art to the Roman virgin. It was to be seen in\nParis from 1798 till 1815, when it was taken back to Bologna; and\nit is well worth a voyage across the Alps. Letting fall the organ\nshe still retains in her hands, St. Cecilia stands, seeming to\nlisten in ecstasy to the concert of angels, contemplating this\ntransporting choir, which the artist has revealed in the yawning\nskies. At her side stand St. John, St. Paul, St. Magdalen, and St.\nAugustine; at her feet lie the broken instruments of earthly music.\nApparently Raphael wished to recapitulate on this sublime page the\nhighest precepts of philosophy. Here is typified by the instruments\nof pleasure the world of the senses, whose bonds we must break and\nfree ourselves from. But if it is well to know something of this\nmaterial world, the realm of the human intellect, it is necessary\nsometimes to know, like Cecilia, how to raise one's self still\nhigher and prepare to listen to the ineffable music of the soul.\nDo we accuse ourselves of being sinners? Here is Magdalen with her\nvase of ointment, and behind her Augustine. They may well inspire us\nwith hope, they also have experienced the temptations of the senses\nand the proud rebellions of the will, but there they stand to prove\nthat humility and penitence may conquer these. Do you say that,\nobliged to lead an active life, you daily find yourself overwhelmed\nby a thousand cares? Behold St. Paul, the apostle of nations, who\nalso experienced pain, labor, shipwrecks, and dangers of all kinds;\nnevertheless, leaning on his sword, he meditates. Finally, are you\nphilosophers or theologians? Behold St. John, the master of you\nall. Radiant, he contemplates the enraptured saint, and seems to\nsay, \"Forget yourselves for a space; turn from the sound of human\nwords; like Cecilia, listen to the celestial harmonies of the Word.\nLook at this young girl. She has known how to find love, peace, and\nhappiness.\"[122]\n\nAccording to M. Passavant,[123] it was also the history of St.\nCecilia, and not the martyrdom of St. Felicitas, as is usually\nbelieved, which formed the subject of Raphael's fresco, formerly to\nbe admired in the chapel \"De la Magliano\" at Trastavere. In 1830, an\nunknown vandal of a proprietor bethought himself of cutting a huge\ngash through the centre in order to place a \"pew, where he could hear\nMass without mingling with his servants!\" Thus mutilated, the fresco\nwas transferred to canvas in 1835, and has probably been bought\nby some more enlightened connoisseur; but the most enthusiastic\nappreciation cannot now repair such outrages.\n\nAmong the moderns, we shall only mention, in Germany, the St. Cecilia\nof Molitor, whose attitude reminds us much of Raphael's. Certainly it\nhas not the same nobility of style, but we find there the charming\ngrace of the D\u00fcsseldorf school. In France, we may mention with praise\nthe St. Cecilia of Paul Delaroche. Seated on an antique chair,\ndressed in a robe falling in long folds, the virgin with one hand\nrestrains her mantle, bordered with a fringe of gold, with the other\nshe touches a little organ presented to her by two kneeling angels,\nunder the semblance of pure-faced boys. This sweet picture, full of\npoetry and grace, is a happy contrast to some others, and makes us\nthe more regret the painter of this Christian martyr, so beautiful\nand chaste--night brooding on the face of the waters.\n\nBut of one art St. Cecilia is especially the patron, and that is\nmusic. Why the Roman virgin was chosen from so many others, would be\nvery difficult to explain with any precision. The mystic sense of the\ntradition which makes Cecilia the queen of harmony is now lost, and\non this point we are reduced to conjectures. Let us hope, however,\nthat the conjectures we shall advance may seem probable after a\nlittle reflection.\n\nUndoubtedly Cecilia, the daughter of a noble family, enjoying all\nworldly advantages and instructed to please, was taught music.\nWithout doubt, also, she consecrated to God a talent acquired for\nworldly ends; and in the meetings of the faithful in the catacombs\nshe must have taken part in the psalms and canticles. But the most\nweighty argument in favor of this glorious patronage which the\nChristian ages have ascribed to our saint, is the sentence from her\nlife incorporated in the Roman Litany: \"Cantantibus organis, C\u00e6cilia\nDomino decantabat: Fiat cor meum immaculatum ut non confundar.\"\n\nIn January, 1732, a Jansenist critic, otherwise entirely\nunknown,[124] remarked, in the _Mercury_ of France, \"that the\nselection of St. Cecilia as the patron of music was not a good\nchoice.\" Indeed, he says, a little farther on, \"we can easily see\nthat this saint was very insensible to the charms of music; for\non her wedding day, while they played on several instruments, she\nremained absorbed in prayer.\"[125] Poor man! he could not get beyond\nthe outer husks of things, and the material side of art. He did\nnot know that elevated natures naturally respond to human music by\nprayer, that heavenly music. And undoubtedly, he had never heard\nthose sublime melodies which a loving soul sings to itself, and of\nwhich the most beautiful concerts of this world are but a feeble echo.\n\nBut the Christian people had a better inspiration. They understood\nthat music, and, above all, religious music--the most beautiful of\nall, whose highest aim is to free us from the senses and lift us out\nof ourselves, in order to raise us to God--might well be protected by\nthis young girl, whose soul had become like a lyre, from which the\nfaintest breath will wake harmonious vibrations, and who, virgin and\nmartyr--while for three days she lay on the bloody flags, seemed in a\nlong song of love to render back her spirit.\n\nIn Rome and Italy, musical societies early placed themselves under\nthe patronage of St. Cecilia. We find one in France, founded in\n1571, at Evreux, \"by the choristers of the cathedral church, and\nother pious inhabitants of this city, for the purpose of learning\nmusic.\" Henry III. gave letters patent to the \"Society of Madame\nSt. Cecilia,\" established at Paris, in the church of the \"Grands\nAugustins,\" by zealous artists and amateurs of music. These societies\ndisappeared with many others in the revolutionary troubles, but\ntheir charitable intentions have been revived. Every year, on the 22d\nof November, the Association of Musical Artists gives in the great\nchurch of St. Eustache at Paris a musical mass,[126] whose proceeds\nare destined to relieve their sick and poor members. Undoubtedly\none might often wish more religious music. These pretended masses\nare far too theatrical to seem much inspired when compared to the\noratorios which Handel and Beethoven have dedicated to St. Cecilia.\nNor is it there that one could find pious meditation. Nevertheless,\nwe may still rejoice that at a time when materialism has corrupted\nso many hearts, these solemnities still attract crowds. Indeed, one\nmay say of music as Tertullian said of the soul, that it is naturally\nChristian. To draw the soul from all that occupies it, weighs on it,\nand destroys it, to sustain it by prolonged melody, inspiring dreams\nof infinity, is also to elevate it above itself, and gently prepare\nit for the broken utterances of prayer.\n\nWe know, then, that St. Cecilia is powerful enough in heaven to turn\nan idler into yet another Christian. Never in vain was she approached\nwhile on earth, or her memory celebrated since she has reigned in\nheaven. She has held her court of litt\u00e9rateurs, poets, painters, and\nmusicians, men with impassioned hearts, which she has gently drawn\ntoward heaven. For each she has obtained some special grace. Let\nothers come; for the treasures she distributes are never exhausted.\n\nIn the early Christians who read her history, she inspired love of\npurity and a martyr's strength; to the artists who have striven to\nrepresent her, she has revealed a type of beauty unknown on earth.\nFor the most humble of her servants, she has smiles which heal the\nsoul wonderfully. Who has inspired more masterpieces? who has been\nmore loved than this virgin? who is more alive than she, who has been\ndead for sixteen centuries? But, martyr to love, she died for Christ.\nIs this really dying?\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[109] In his _Speculum Historiale_, lib. iv., chap. 22.\n\n[110] See the notes of Jacques Laderchi in the life of St. Cecilia\npublished by him, and the long list of memorials which he has\ncollected in her honor. _Sanct\u00e6 Cecili\u00e6, V. et M., acta_: edidet\nJacobius Laderchius. 2 vols. in 4to, Rome, 1723. The work is very\nrare, but may be found in the Imperial Library, Paris.\n\n[111] Justice and gratitude oblige us to acknowledge the great\nadvantage we have received from Dom Gu\u00e9ranger's book. As well written\nas it is learned, it is still the best history of St. Cecilia. But\nthe learned Benedictine has only touched slightly on the influence of\nSt. Cecilia on the fine arts, and we have been obliged to fill out\nthese notes by personal research and observations made in a recent\njourney to Italy.\n\n[112] Died 1593.\n\n[113] See Laderchi, op. cit. t. ii., pp. 438-450.\n\n[114] See _Select Works of Alexander Pope_. One vol. in 12mo,\nLeipsic, 1848, Tauchnitz edition. \"Ode for Music on St. Cecilia's\nDay.\"\n\n[115] He was decorated by the \"Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise\" (Nov., 1869).\n\n[116] _St. Cecilia_, a tragic poem. By Count Anatole de S\u00e9gur. One\nvolume folio, at Amb. Bray's, Paris, 1868.\n\n[117] This is not an arbitrary philosophic division. It corresponds\nto the three worlds recognized by the greatest geniuses of antiquity\nor of modern times--Plato, Aristotle, Bossuet, and Malebranche--the\nworld of the senses, the world of human thought, and the divine world.\n\n[118] So in Raphael's famous picture, the pearl of the gallery at\nBologna; while its exacted symbolism and heavenly sentiment tempt us\nto class it among the masterpieces of the mystic school, it must be\nconfessed that St. Magdalen has a very _earthly_ look. We know, alas,\nhow this noble form has been profaned by some artists; the victim,\neven after her penitence, of the sensual tastes of the Renaissance,\nshe remained a courtesan in the eyes of Titian and Correggio; and the\npagans of the sixteenth century have turned our saint into a nymph\nlying in a grotto, or standing veiled only by the masses of her long\nhair.\n\n[119] The frescoes of St. Louis have been engraved by Landon in his\ngreat book on the life and works of celebrated painters. See _Works\nof Domenichino_. 3 vols. in 4to, Paris, 1803.\n\n[120] There are two more pictures of St. Cecilia by Domenichino. One\nis in the Rospigliosi Palace at Rome; the other was in England at the\nbeginning of this century. See the engravings already mentioned in\nLandon.\n\n[121] In this second school may be classed the pictures of Paul\nVeronese and of Garofolo in the Dresden Museum. As for Carlo Dolce's\nSt. Cecilia, it is far sweeter, and forms the connecting link between\nthe rationalistic and mystic schools. We have not seen the picture,\nwhich is in the Museum at Dresden, but it has become well-known\nthrough engravings, and has been published by Schulger at Paris.\n\n[122] Raphael has also represented St. Cecilia bearing witness to\nChrist at the tomb. This may be seen at the Museum at Naples. Dom\nGu\u00e9ranger considers the type of this picture far higher than any of\nthe others.--C. F. Vasari, t. iii. p. 166.\n\n[123] Raphael d'Urbin, t. ii., p. 277.\n\n[124] His name was M. Bottu de Toulmont, it appears.\n\n[125] _Dictionary of Plain Chant_, in the _Theological Encyclopedia_\nat Migne, 256.\n\n[126] At Brussels this mass is sung in St. Gudule.\n\n\n\n\nDISILLUSIONED.\n\n\n      I blush that I am England's son!\n        Yet deemed her once the inviolate home\n      Of matchless freedom nobly won:\n        And little thought the hour would come,\n      When, freer on an alien strand,\n      My soul should scorn its native land.\n\n      How mocks my ear the idle song\n        That \"Britons never shall be slaves\"\n      _These_ Britons _have been_ slaves _so long_\n        To fraud and falsehood, fiends and knaves,\n      They spurn true freedom's very name,\n      And, self-duped, revel in their shame.\n\n      O Albion! once the \"Isle of Saints,\"\n        The \"Dower of Mary,\" what thy crime?\n      Not sternest pen--not envy's--paints\n        The annals of thy golden time\n      In aught but glory. Whence the call\n      For such a vengeance, such a fall?\n\n      A tyrant's lust, a woman's pride,\n        Could rend thee from the parent stem,\n      And lay thee wither'd by the side\n        Of barren branches--cursed with them!\n      Save that thy head was too elate,\n      What hadst thou done for such a fate?\n\n      And oh! if thou hadst welcomed back\n        The Christless worship of the Celt,\n      Thy darkness were of hue less black--\n        Were less like Egypt's, \"to be felt\"!\n      'Twere rather twilight of the morn:\n      Another day might still be born.\n\n      But no: more hellward yet thy fall!\n        To turn and trample in her blood\n      The Mother who had brought thee all\n        Thou ever hadst of highest good:\n      Behold a guilt--ay, deeplier dyed\n      Than blinded Juda's deicide!\n\n      And lo! a sleek usurper now--\n        Meet tool of perjured royalty--\n      Rears shameless her apostate brow:\n        Her creed a sham, her claim a lie!\n      The children's bread no more divine,\n      A hireling throws them husks of swine.\n\n      This vaunted church, they built her stout:\n        And if by dint of fellest strife\n      She failed to crush and strangle out\n        Her foe's imperishable life,\n      'Twas not, I ween, from lack of force,\n      Or craft of state, or base resource.\n\n      'Twas not that mildness ruled the day,\n        And penal codes were voted down;\n      And fair the question, fair the play\n        From chair and pulpit, bench and crown;\n      While forgery disdain'd to vie\n      With slander in the dextrous lie.\n\n      But more. As harlots aim to link\n        A sister's ruin with their own\n      So thou, my England, couldst not drink\n        The \"cup of devils\" quite alone,\n      But needs must press it on a shore\n      The rival of thy light before.\n\n      And Erin loathed it. There's a prayer\n        That kept her then, and triumphs still.\n      'Twill take thee more than hate may dare\n        To break the Patrick in her will:\n      Though treachery _was_ the lurking sin\n      That sold the soil thou couldst not win.\n\n      And what, at last, has hate achieved?\n        For her, thy victim, such a name\n      As points--and must, to be believed--\n        To thy long parallel of shame:\n      The Isle of Martyrs--peerless gem\n      In Rome's thick-rubied diadem.\n\n      Nor this alone. Not vainly fled\n        Her patriot sons thy cruel hand;\n      Not vainly to the West were led,\n        Where the great future's chosen land\n      O'er thralless ocean beacon'd fair,\n      To find God's mission waiting there.\n\n      Thus, England, has thy baffled rage\n        But spread the faith it sought to slay:\n      And lo! the nations see thee wage\n        The bigot's combat ev'n to-day!\n      They cry: \"Her very pride is o'er:\n      The lion in her wakes no more!\"\n\n      Fool-doubly fool! Art thou so strong\n        No mightier arm can lay thee low?\n      If patient heaven has linger'd long,\n        This hour thy last--for weal or woe:\n      And what 'twere penance to accord,\n      Wilt thou but forfeit to the sword?\n\n      Enough. My heart is too much thine\n        To curse thee, though I blush to own:\n      Too fondly prized thee as a shrine,\n        Too proudly hailed thee as a throne:\n      And, turning from the bitter truth,\n      Finds sweetness in the dream of youth.\n\n      For memory gathers in that dream\n        A fragrance as of morning dew:\n      The freshness of the grove and stream,\n        When Nature woo'd me first, and knew\n      So well to draw me to her breast,\n      And wed me to her love's unrest.\n\n      And if henceforth I twine my wreath\n        To crown the land where now I sing,\n      Content to pray in peace beneath\n        The shadow of her eagle's wing;\n      'Tis not that charms of clime and scene\n      Estrange me from thy gentler mien.\n\n      It is that truth is chainless here,\n        And swift her march from shore to shore;\n      And little need her children fear\n        For coming days--though clouded o'er;\n      For God must shape a gracious plan\n      Where truth is free, and man is man.[127]\n\n      JULY, 1868.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[127] Though the above lines were written before the disestablishment\nof the State Church in Ireland, their author's indignation has been\nlittle appeased by that extorted act of justice. The measure was\nunaccompanied by any attempt at reparation for the past. At the\nvery least, the old Catholic churches might have been returned to\ntheir lawful owners. And is there any sign to-day of full justice\never being done or half-done? None--except in the event of divine\nvengeance forcing England to kneel to her generous victim and \"sue to\nbe forgiven.\" Fiat, fiat.\n\n\n\n\nORIGIN OF CIVILIZATION.[128]\n\n\nSir John Lubbock, though his name is not euphonious, is, we\nunderstand, an English scientist, highly distinguished and of no\nmean authority in the scientific world, as his father was before\nhim. He certainly is a man of large pretensions, and of as much\nlogical ability and practical good sense as we have a right to\nexpect in an English scientist. He, of course, adopts the modern\ntheory of progress, and maintains that the savage is the type of the\nprimitive man, and that he has emerged from his original barbarism\nand superstition to his present advanced civilization and religious\nbelief and worship by his own energy and persevering efforts at\nself-evolution or development, without any foreign or supernatural\ninstruction or assistance.\n\nOne, Sir John contends, has only to study and carefully ascertain\nthe present condition of the various contemporary savage tribes,\nor what he calls the \"lower races,\" to know what was the original\ncondition of mankind, and from which the superior races started\non their tour of progress through the ages; and one needs only to\nascertain the germs of civilization and religion which were in their\noriginal condition, to be able to comprehend the various stages of\nthat progress and the principles and means by which it has been\neffected and may be carried on indefinitely beyond the point already\nreached. Hence, in the volume before us the author labors to present\nus a true picture of the present mental and social condition of\ncontemporary savages as that of the primeval man. He assumes that the\nmental and social condition is that of the infancy of the human race,\nand by studying it we can attain to the history of \"prehistoric\"\ntimes, assist, as it were, if we may be pardoned the Gallicism, at\nthe earliest development of mankind, and trace step by step the\nprogress from their first appearance on the globe upward to the\nsublime civilization of the nineteenth century--the civilization of\nthe steam-engine, the cotton spinner and weaver, the steamboat, the\nsteam-plough, the railway, and the lightning telegraph.\n\nThis theory, that finds in the savage the type of the primitive man,\nis nothing very new. It was refuted by the late Archbishop Whately,\nby the Duke of Argyll in his _Primeval Man_, and on several occasions\nby the present writer in THE CATHOLIC WORLD. The facts Sir John\nadduces in the support of this theory, as far as facts they are,\nhad been adduced long ago, and were as well known by us before we\nabandoned the theory as untenable, as they are by Sir John Lubbock or\nany of his compeers. They may all, so far as they bear on religion,\nbe found summed up and treated at length in the work of Benjamin\nConstant, _La Religion consider\u00e9e dans sa Source, ses Developpements,\net ses Formes_, published in 1832, as well as in a mass of German\nwriters. Sir John has told us nothing of the mental and social\ncondition of savages that we had not examined, we had almost said,\nbefore he was born, and which we had supposed was not known by all\nmen with any pretension to serious studies. In fact, we grow rather\nimpatient as we grow old of writers who, because they actually have\nlearned more than they knew in their cradles, imagine that they have\nlearned so much more than all the rest of mankind. No men try our\npatience more than our scientific Englishmen, who speak always in a\ndecisive tone, with an air of infallibility from which there would\nseem to be no appeal, and yet utter only the veriest commonplaces,\nold theories long since exploded, or stale absurdities. We have no\npatience with such men as Herbert Spencer, Huxley, and Darwin. We are\nhardly less impatient of the scientists who in our own country hold\nthem up to our admiration and reverence as marvellous discoverers,\nand as the great and brilliant lights of the age. We love science, we\nhonor the men who devote their lives to its cultivation, but we ask\nthat it _be_ science, not hypothesis piled on hypothesis, nor simply\na thing of mere conjectures or guesses.\n\nThe modern doctrine of progress or development, which supposes man\nbegan in the lowest savage, if not lower still, is not a doctrine\nsuggested by any facts observed and classified in men's history,\nnor is it a logical induction from any class of known facts, but a\ngratuitous hypothesis invented and asserted against the Biblical\ndoctrine of creation, of Providence, of original sin, and of the\nsupernatural instruction, government, redemption, and salvation\nof men. The hypothesis is suggested by hostility to the Christian\nrevelation, prior to the analysis and classification of any facts\nto sustain it, and the scientists who defend it are simply\ninvestigating nature, not in the interests of science properly\nso-called, but, consciously or unconsciously, to find facts to\nsupport a hypothesis which may be opposed to both. Any facts in\nnature or in history, natural or civil, political or religious,\nthat seem to make against Christian teaching, are seized upon\nwith avidity, distorted or exaggerated, and paraded with a grand\nfanfaronade, sounding of trumpets, beating of drums, and waving of\nbanners, as if it were a glorious triumph of man to prove that he\nis no better than the beasts that perish; while the multitude of\nfacts which are absolutely irreconcilable with it are passed over in\nsilence or quietly set aside, as of no account, or simply declared to\nbe anomalies, which science is _not yet_ in a condition to explain,\nbut, no doubt, soon will be, since it has entered the true path,\nhas found the true scientific methods, and is headed in the right\ndirection. Science is yet in its infancy. In its cradle it has\nstrangled frightful monsters, and, when full-grown, it will not fail\nto slay the hydra, and rid the world of all its \"chimeras dire.\" But\nwhile we do not complain that your infantile or puerile science has\nnot done more, we would simply remind you, men of science, that it is\nvery unscientific to reason from what you confess science has not yet\ndone as if it had done it. Wait till it has done it, before you bring\nit forward as a scientific achievement.\n\nWe confess to a want of confidence in this whole class of scientists,\nfor their investigations are not free and unbiassed; their minds are\nprejudiced; they are pledged to a theory in advance, which makes\nthem shut their eyes to the facts which contradict it, and close\ntheir intelligence to the great principles of universal reason\nwhich render their conclusions invalid. There are other scientists\nwho have pushed their investigations as far into nature and history\nas they have, perhaps even further, who know and have carefully\nanalyzed all the facts they know or ever pretended to know, and yet\nhave come to conclusions the contrary of theirs, and find nothing in\nthe facts or phenomena of the universe that warrant any induction\nnot in accordance with Christian faith, either as set forth in the\nHoly Scriptures or the definitions of the church. Why are these less\nlikely to be really scientific than they? They are biassed by their\nChristian faith, you say. Be it so: are you less biassed by your\nanti-christian unbelief and disposition? Besides, are you able to say\nthat these have not in their Christian faith a key to the real sense\nor meaning of the universe and its phenomena which you have not, and\ntherefore are much more likely to be right than you? Do you know that\nit is not so? There is no science where knowledge is wanting.\n\nThe unchristian scientists forget that they cannot conclude against\nthe Biblical or Christian doctrine from mere possibilities or even\nprobabilities. They appeal to science against it, and nothing\ncan avail them as the basis of argument against it that is not\nscientifically proved or demonstrated. Their hypothesis of progress,\nevolution, or development is unquestionably repugnant to the whole\nChristian doctrine and order of thought. If it is true, Christianity\nis false. They must then, before urging it, either prove Christianity\nuntrue or an idle tale, or else prove absolutely, beyond the\npossibility of a rational doubt, the truth of their hypothesis. It\nis not enough to prove that it may, for aught you know, be true;\nyou must prove that it is true, and cannot be false. Christianity\nis too important a fact in the world's history to be set aside by\nan undemonstrated hypothesis. And it is anything but scientific to\nconclude its falsity on the strength of a simply possible or even\nprobable hypothesis, not as yet indeed proved, and of which the best\nyou can say is that you trust science will be able to prove it when\nonce it is out of its nonage. You cannot propose it at all, unless\nyou have scientifically demonstrated it, or previously disproved\n_aliunde_ the Christian revelation. So long as you leave it possible\nfor me to hold the Christian faith without contradicting what is\ndemonstrated to be true, you have alleged nothing to the purpose\nagainst it, and cannot bring forward your theory even as probable,\nfar less as scientific; for, if it is possible that Christianity is\ntrue, it is not possible that your hypothesis can be true, or even\nscientifically proved. The scientists seem not to be aware of this,\nand seem to suppose that they may rank Christianity with the various\nheathen superstitions, and set it aside by an unsupported theory or a\nprejudice.\n\nLet the question be understood. Christianity teaches us that in the\nbeginning God created heaven and earth, and all things therein,\nvisible and invisible, that he made man after his own image and\nlikeness, placed him in the garden of Eden, gave him a law, that\nis, made him a revelation of his will, instructed him in his moral\nand religious duty, established him in original justice, in a\nsupernatural state, under a supernatural providence, on the plane of\na supernatural destiny; that man prevaricated, broke the law given\nhim, lost his original justice, the integrity of his nature attached\nthereto, and communion with his Maker, fell under the dominion of\nthe flesh, became captive to Satan, and subject to death, moral,\ntemporal, and eternal; that God, of his own goodness and mercy,\npromised him pardon and deliverance, redemption and salvation,\nthrough his own Son made man, who in due time was born of the Virgin\nMary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, was dead and\nburied, and on the third day rose again, ascended into heaven, whence\nhe shall come again, to judge the living and the dead. This doctrine,\nin substance, was made to our first parents in the garden, was\npreserved in the tradition of the patriarchs, in its purity in the\nsynagogue, and in its purity and integrity in the Christian church\nfounded on it, and authorized and assisted by God himself to teach it\nto all men and nations.\n\nAccording to this doctrine, the origin of man, the human species,\nas well as of the universe and all its contents, is in the creative\nact of God, not in evolution or development. The first man was not\na monkey or a tadpole developed, nor a savage or barbarian, but\nwas a man full grown in the integrity of his nature, instructed by\nhis Maker, and the most perfect man of his race, and as he is the\nprogenitor of all mankind, it follows that mankind began not in\n\"utter barbarism,\" as Sir John asserts, but in the full development\nand perfection of manhood, with the knowledge of God and Providence,\nof their origin and destiny, and of their moral and religious duty.\nIgnorance has followed as the penalty or consequence of sin, instead\nof being the original condition in which man was created; and this\nignorance brought on the race by the prevarication of Adam, the\ndomination of the flesh, and the power of Satan acquired thereby, are\nthe origin and cause of barbarism of individuals and nations, the\ninnumerable moral and social evils which have afflicted mankind in\nall times and places.\n\nNow, to this doctrine Sir John opposes the hypothesis of the origin\nof man in \"utter barbarism,\" and his progress by natural evolution\nor self-development. But what facts has he adduced in its support,\nor that conflict with Christian teaching, that prove that teaching\nfalse or even doubtful? He has adduced, as far as we can see, none\nat all, for all the facts that he alleges are, to say the least, as\neasily explained on the supposition of man's deterioration as on the\nsupposition of progress, development, or continuous melioration.\nSome of the facts he adduces _might_, perhaps, be explained on his\nhypothesis, if there were no reason for giving them a contrary\nexplanation; but there is not one of them that must be so explained.\nThis is not enough for his purpose, though it is enough for ours. He\nmust go further, and prove that his facts not only _may_ but _must_\nbe explained on his hypothesis, and can be explained on no other.\nIf we are able to explain, or he is unable to show positively that\nwe cannot explain, all known facts in accordance with the Christian\ndoctrine, he can conclude nothing from them against Christianity or\nin favor of his naturalism. We do not, he must remember, rely on\nthose facts to prove the Christian doctrine, but he relies on them to\ndisprove it, by proving his hypothesis; and if he cannot show that\nthey absolutely do disprove it, or positively prove his hypothesis,\nhe proves nothing to his purpose.\n\nSir John dwells at great length on the real or supposed rites,\nforms, and barbarous customs observed by outlying savage tribes or\nnations, but, before he can draw any conclusion from them in favor\nof his theory of progress, he must prove that they were primitive.\nHe knows them only as contemporaneous with what he would himself\ncall civilized marriage: how then, without having first proved that\nthe race began in \"utter barbarism,\" conclude from them that they\npreceded civilized marriage? One thing is certain, we never find them\nwithout finding somewhere in the world contemporary with them the\ncivilized marriage. There is no history, historical intimation, or\ntradition of any custom or conception of marriage older than we have\nin the Book of Genesis, and in that we find the true idea of marriage\nwas already in the world at the earliest date of history, and the\nvices against it are plainly condemned in the Decalogue, contemporary\nwith these very usages, customs, and notions of savages on which Sir\nJohn dwells with so much apparent delight, and which are barbarous,\nand lax enough to satisfy even our women's-rights men; and, so far as\nhistory goes, preceding them, the true idea of marriage as something\nsacred, and as the union of one man with one woman, was known and\nheld, and therefore could not have been, at least so far as known, a\ndevelopment of barbarian marriages.\n\nThe same answer applies to the question of religion. Contemporary\nwith the savage and barbarous superstitions of the heathen, and\neven prior to them, we find practised in its fervor and purity\nthe true worship of the true God. True religion is not developed\nfrom the impurities and absurd superstitions of the heathen, and\nis by no means the growth of the religious sentiment becoming\ngradually enlightened and purifying itself from their grossness,\nfor it is historically as well as logically older than any of them.\nMen worshipped God the creator of heaven and earth before they\nworshipped the fetish, the elements, or the hosts of heaven. Religion\nis older than superstition, for superstition is an abuse of religion,\nas the theologians say, by way of excess, as irreligion is its\nabuse by way of defect; but a thing must exist and be entertained\nbefore it can be abused. Nothing can be more certain than that\ntrue religion has never been developed from false religions, or\ntruth from falsehood; for the true must precede the false, which is\nsimply the negation of the true. Christianity is, if you will, a\ndevelopment, the fulfilment of the synagogue or the Jewish religion;\nJudaism was also, if you will, a development of the patriarchal\nreligion; but in neither case a self-development; and in neither\ncase has the development been effected except by supernatural\nintervention. It would be absurd to suppose the patriarchal religion\nwas a development of heathenism, since it is historically prior to\nany form of heathenism, and every known form of heathenism supposes\nit, and is intelligible only by it. So far was Judaism from being\nself-evolved from the superstitions of the heathen, that it was with\nthe greatest difficulty that the Israelites themselves, as their\nhistory shows, were kept from adopting the idolatry and superstition\nof the surrounding nations, which shows that their religion was\nnot self-evolved, and that it was above the level of the moral and\nreligious life of the people. Christianity develops and perfects\nJudaism, but by supernatural agency, not by the natural progress or\nself-development of the Jewish people; for if it had been, the bulk\nof the nation would have accepted it, and we know that the bulk of\nthe Jewish people did not accept it, but rejected it, and continue to\nreject it to this day.\n\nWe know, also, that the progress of the heathen nations was very far\nfrom raising them to the level of the Christian religion. Traces\nof some of its principles and several of its moral precepts may be\nfound with the Gentile philosophers, as we should expect, since they\npertained to the primitive revelation; but these philosophers were\nnot the first, but rather the last to accept it. Nowhere amongst the\nheathen did any Christian communities spring up spontaneously or\nwere of indigenous origin. Christianity sprang out of Judea, and the\nnations adopted it, in the first instance, only as it was carried\nto them by Jewish missionaries. And who were these missionaries?\nHumble fishermen, publicans, and mechanics. Who first received\nthem, and believed their message? Principally the common people,\nthe unlettered, the poor, and slaves of the rich and noble. \"For\nsee your vocation, brethren,\" says St. Paul (1 Cor. iv. 26), \"that\nnot many are wise according to the flesh, not many mighty, not many\nnoble.\" Were the fishermen of the Lake Genesareth, and the slaves of\nthe Roman Empire, we may ask with Mgr. Maret, \"the most enlightened\nand advanced portion of mankind\"? Who dare maintain it, when it is\na question of natural development or progress? Had Christianity\nbeen the natural evolution of the human mind, or the product of the\nnatural growth of human intelligence and morality, we should have\nfirst encountered it not with the poor, the ignorant, the unlettered\nand wretched slaves, but with the higher and more cultivated classes,\nwith the philosophers, the scientists, the noble, the great generals\nand the most eminent orators and statesmen, the _\u00e9lite_ of Greek\nand Roman society, those who at the time stood at the head of the\ncivilized world. Yet such is not the fact, but the fact is the very\nreverse.\n\nThe Biblical history explains the origin of the barbarous\nsuperstitions of heathendom in a very satisfactory way, and shows\nus very clearly that the savage state is not the primitive state,\nbut has been produced by sin, and is the result of what we call the\ngreat Gentile apostasy, or falling away of the nations from the\nprimitive or patriarchal religion. When language was confounded at\nBabel, and the dispersion of mankind took place, unity of speech\nor language was lost, and with it unity of ideas or of faith, and\neach tribe or nation took its own course, and developed a tribal or\nnational religion of its own. Gradually each tribe or nation lost\nthe conception of God as creator, and formed to itself gods made\nin its own image, clothed with its own passions, and it bowed down\nand worshipped the work of its own hands. It was not that they knew\nor had known no better. St. Paul has settled that question. \"For\nthe wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all impiety and\ninjustice of those men that detain the truth of God in injustice.\nBecause that which is known of God is manifest in them. For God\nhath manifested it to them. For the invisible things of him, from\nthe creation of the world, are clearly seen, being understood by\nthe things that are made: his eternal power also and divinity; so\nthat they are _inexcusable_. Because when they had known God, they\nglorified him not as God, nor gave thanks; but became vain in their\nthoughts, and their foolish heart was darkened; for, professing\nthemselves wise, they became fools. And they changed the glory of the\nincorruptible God into the likeness of the image of a corruptible\nman, and of birds, and of four-footed beasts, and of creeping\nthings. Wherefore God gave them up to the desires of their hearts,\nto uncleanness; to dishonor their own bodies among themselves, who\nchanged the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and served the\ncreature rather than the Creator, who is blessed for ever. Amen.\"\n(Rom. i. 18-25.)\n\nSt. Paul evidently does not believe Sir John Lubbock's doctrine that\nthe race began in \"utter barbarism,\" and have been slowly working\ntheir way up to the heights of Christian civilization. He evidently\nascribes the superstitions, and consequently the barbarism, of\nthe heathen to apostasy. Sir John, of course, does not accept the\nauthority of St. Paul; but, if he cannot prove St. Paul was wrong, he\nis debarred from asserting his own hypothesis, even as probable. If\nit is possible to explain the facts of the savage state on the ground\nof apostasy or gradual deterioration, the hypothesis of development,\nof self-evolution or natural and unaided progress, falls to the\nground as wholly baseless. His hypothesis becomes probable only by\nproving that no other hypothesis is possible.\n\nBut all the known facts in the case are against our scientific\nbaronet's hypothesis. Take Mohammedanism. It sprang up subsequently\nto both Moses and the Gospel. It is a compound of Judaism and\nChristianity, more Jewish than Christian, however, and is decidedly\ninferior to either. How explain this fact, if the several races of\nmen never fall or retrograde, but are always advancing, marching\nthrough the ages onward and upward? Many of the ancestors of the\npresent Mussulmans belonged to highly civilized races, and some of\nthem were Christians, and not a few of them Jews. Yet there is always\nprogress, never deterioration.\n\nBut we need not go back to the seventh century. There has been a\nmodern apostasy, and we see right before our eyes the process of\ndeterioration, of falling into barbarism, going on among those who\nhave apostatized from Christianity. The author regards as an evidence\nof the lowest barbarism what he calls \"communal marriage,\" that\nis, marriage in which the wife is common to all the males of her\nhusband's family. We do not believe this sort of marriage was ever\nanything more than an exceptional fact, like polyandry; but suppose\nit was even common among the lowest savage tribes, how much lower\nor more barbarous is the state it indicates, than what the highly\ncivilized Plato makes the magistrates prescribe in his imaginary\nRepublic? How much in advance of such a practice is the free love\nadvocated by Mary Wolstonecraft and Fanny Wright; the recommendation\nof Godwin to abolish marriage and the monopoly by one man of any\none woman; than the denunciation of marriage by the late Robert\nOwen as one of the trinity of evils which have hitherto afflicted\nthe race, and his proposal to replace it by a community of wives,\nas he proposed to replace private property by a community of goods;\nor, indeed, than we see actually adopted in practice by the Oneida\nCommunity? Sir John regards the gynocracy which prevails in some\nsavage tribes as characteristic of a very low form of barbarism; but\nto what else tends the woman's-rights movement in his country and\nours? If successful, not only would women be the rulers, but children\nwould follow the mother's line, not the father's, for the obvious\nreason that, while the mother can be known, the father cannot be with\nany certainty. Does not free love, the mainspring of the movement,\nlead to this? And are not they who support it counted the advanced\nparty of the age, and we who resist denounced as old fogies or as\nthe defenders of man's tyranny?\n\nSir John relates that some tribes are so low in their intelligence\nthat they have no or only the vaguest conceptions of the divinity,\nand none at all of God as creator. He need not go amongst outlying\nbarbarians to find persons whose intelligence is equally low. He\nwill search in vain through all Gentile philosophy without finding\nthe conception of a creative God. Nay, among our own contemporaries\nhe can find more who consider it a proof of their superior\nintelligence and rare scientific attainments that they reject the\nfact of creation, relegate God into the unknown and the unknowable,\nand teach us that the universe is self-evolved, and man is only a\nmonkey or gorilla developed.[129] These men regard themselves as the\nlights of their age, and are so regarded, too, by no inconsiderable\nportion of the public. Need we name Auguste Comte and Sir William\nHamilton, among the dead; E. Littr\u00e9, Herbert Spencer, J. Stuart Mill,\nProfessor Huxley, Charles Darwin, not to say Sir John himself, among\nthe living? If these men and their adherents have not lapsed into\nbarbarism, their science, if accepted, would lead us to the ideas\nand practices which Sir John tells us belong to the lowest stage of\nbarbarism. Sir John doubts if any savage tribe can be found that is\nabsolutely destitute of all religious conceptions or sentiments, but,\nif we may believe their own statements, we have people enough among\nthe apostate Christians of our day who have none, and glory in it as\na proof of their superiority to the rest of mankind.\n\nSir John sees a characteristic of barbarism or of the early savage\nstate in the belief in and the dread of evil spirits, or what he\ncalls demonism. The Bible tells us all the gods of the heathens are\ndevils or demons. Even this characteristic of barbarism is reproduced\nin our civilized communities by spiritism, which is of enlightened\nAmerican origin. This spiritism, which is rapidly becoming a religion\nwith large numbers of men and women in our midst, is nothing but\ndemonism, the necromancy and witchcraft or familiar spirits of the\nancient world. Men who reject Christianity, who have no belief in\nGod, or at least do not hold it necessary to worship or pay him the\nleast homage or respect, believe in the spirits, go to the medium,\nand consult her, as Saul in his desperation consulted the Witch\nof Endor. If we go back a few years to the last century, we shall\nfind the most polished people on the globe abolishing religion,\ndecreeing that death is an eternal sleep, and perpetrating, in the\nname of liberty, virtue, humanity, and brotherly love, crimes and\ncruelties unsurpassed if not unequalled in the history of the most\nsavage tribes; and we see little improvement in our own century, more\nthoroughly filled with the horrors of unprincipled and needless wars\nthan any other century of which we possess the history. Indeed, the\nscenes of 1792-3-4 are now in process of reproduction in Europe.\n\nWe must remember that all these deteriorations have taken place in\nor are taking place in the most highly civilized nations of the\nglobe, whose ancestors were Christians, and with persons many of\nwhom were brought up in the belief of Christianity. Take the men\nand women who hold, on marriage and on religion, what are called\n\"advanced views\"--free-lovers and free-religionists--remove them\nfrom the restraints of the church and of the state, not yet up to\ntheir standard, and let them form a community by themselves in which\ntheir views shall be carried out in practice; would they not in two\nor three generations lapse into a state not above that of the most\ndegraded and filthy savages? We see this deterioration going on in\nour midst and right before our eyes, as the effect of apostasy from\nour holy religion. This proves that apostasy is sufficient to explain\nthe existence of the savage races, without supposing the human race\nbegan in \"utter barbarism.\" If apostasy in modern times, as we see it\ndoes, leads to \"utter barbarism,\" why should it not have done so in\nancient times?\n\nWe might make the case still stronger against the author's\nhypothesis, if necessary, by referring to the great and renowned\nnations of antiquity, that in turn led the civilization of the\nworld. Of the nations that apostatized or adhered to the great\nGentile apostasy, not one has survived the lapse of time. To every\none of them has succeeded barbarism, desolation, or a new people.\nThe Egypt of antiquity fell before the Persian conqueror, and the\nEgypt of the Greeks was absorbed by Rome, and fell with her. Assyria\nleaves of her greatness only long since buried and forgotten ruins,\nwhile the savage Kurd and the predatory Arab roam at will over the\ndesert that has succeeded to her once flourishing cities and richly\ncultivated fields. Syria, Tyre, Carthage, and the Greek cities of\nEurope and Asia have disappeared or dwindled into insignificance,\nand what remains of them they owe to the conservative power of the\nChristianity they adopted and have in some measure retained. So true\nis it, as the Psalmist says, \"the wicked shall be turned into hell,\nand all the nations that forget God.\" How explain this fact, if\nthese ancient nations could by their own inherent energy and power\nof self-development raise themselves from \"utter barbarism\" to the\ncivilization they once possessed, that they could not preserve it;\nthat, after having reached a certain point, they began to decline,\ngrew corrupt, and at length fell by their own internal rottenness?\nIf men and nations are naturally progressive, how happens it that\nwe find so many individuals and nations decline and fall, through\ninternal corruption?\n\nAnother fact is not less conclusive against Sir John's hypothesis,\nthat in all the nations of the heathen world their least barbarous\nperiod known to us is their earliest after the apostasy and\ndispersion. The oldest of the sacred books of the Hindus are the\nprofoundest and richest in thought, and the freest from superstition\nand puerilities so characteristic of the Hindu people to-day. The\nearliest religion of the Romans was far more spiritual, intellectual,\nthan that which prevailed at the establishment of the empire and the\nintroduction of Christianity. Indeed, wherever we have the means of\ntracing the religious history of the ancient heathen nations, we find\nit is a history of almost uninterrupted deterioration and corruption,\nbecoming continually more cruel, impure, and debasing as time flows\non. The mysteries, perhaps, retained something of the earlier\ndoctrines, but they did little to arrest the downward tendency of the\nnational religion; the philosophers, no doubt, retained some valuable\ntraditions of the primitive religion, but so mixed up with gross\nerror and absurd fables that they had no effect on the life or morals\nof the people. One of the last acts of Socrates was to require Crito\nto sacrifice a cock to Esculapius. If Sir John's hypothesis were\ntrue, nothing of this could happen, and we should find the religion\nof every nation, as time goes on, becoming purer and more refined,\nless gross and puerile, more enlightened and intellectual, and more\nspiritual and elevating in its influence.\n\nThe traditions of some, perhaps of all heathen nations, refer their\norigin to savage and barbarian ancestors, and this may have been the\nfact with many of them. Horace would seem to go the full length of\nSir John's theory. He tells us that the primitive men sprang like\nanimals from the earth, a mute and filthy herd, fighting one another\nfor an acorn or a den. Cicero speaks somewhat to the same purpose,\nonly he does not say it was the state of the _primeval_ man. Yet\nthe traditions of the heathen nations do not in general favor the\nmain point of Sir John's hypothesis, that men came out of barbarism\nby their own spontaneous development, natural progressiveness,\nor indigenous and unaided efforts. They rise, according to these\ntraditions, to the civilized state only by the assistance of the\ngods, or by the aid of missionaries or colonies from nations already\ncivilized. The goddess Ceres teaches them to plant corn and make\nbread; Bacchus teaches them to plant the vine and to make wine;\nPrometheus draws fire from heaven and teaches them its use; other\ndivinities teach to keep bees, to tame and rear flocks and herds, and\nthe several arts of peace and war. Athens attributed her civilization\nto Minerva and to Cecrops and his Egyptian colony; Thebes, hers to\nOrpheus and Cadmus, of Ph\u0153nician origin; Rome claimed to descend\nfrom a Trojan colony, and borrowed her laws from the Athenians--her\nliterature, philosophy, her art and science, from the Greeks.\nThe poets paint the primitive age as the age of gold, and the\nphilosophers always speak of the race as deteriorating, and find the\npast superior to the present. What is best and truest in Plato he\nascribes to the wisdom of the ancients, and even Homer speaks of the\ndegeneracy of men in his days from what they were at the siege of\nTroy. We think the author will search in vain through all antiquity\nto find a tradition or a hint which assigns the civilization of any\npeople to its own indigenous and unassisted efforts.\n\nSir John Lubbock describes the savages as incurious and little given\nto reflection. He says they never look beyond the phenomenon to its\ncause. They see the world in which they are placed, and never think\nof looking further, and asking who made it, or whence they themselves\ncame or whither they go. They lack not only curiosity, but the power\nof abstraction and generalization, and even thought is a burden to\nthem. This is no doubt in the main true; but it makes against their\nnatural progressiveness, and explains why they are not, as we know\nthey are not, progressive, but remain always stationary, if left to\nthemselves. The chief characteristic of the savage state is in fact\nits immobility. The savage gyrates from age to age in the same narrow\ncircle--never of himself advances beyond it. Whether a tribe sunk\nin what Sir John calls \"utter barbarism,\" and which he holds was\nthe original state of the human race, has ever been or ever can be\nelevated to a civilized state by any human efforts, even of others\nalready civilized, is, perhaps, problematical. As far as experience\ngoes, the tendency of such a tribe, brought in contact with a\ncivilized race, is to retire the deeper into the forest, to waste\naway, and finally to become extinct. Certain it is, no instance of\nits becoming a civilized people can be named.\n\nIn every known instance in which a savage or barbarous people has\nbecome civilized, it has been by the aid or influence of religion,\nor their relations with a people already civilized. The barbarians\nthat overthrew the Roman Empire of the West, and seated themselves\non its ruins, were more than half Romanized before the conquest by\ntheir relations with the Romans and service in the armies of the\nempire, and they rather continued the Roman order of civilization in\nthe several kingdoms and states they founded than destroyed it. The\nRoman system of education, and even the imperial schools, if fewer\nin number and on a reduced scale, were continued all through the\nbarbarous ages down to the founding of the universities of medi\u00e6val\nEurope. Their civilization was carried forward, far in advance of\nthat of Greece or Rome, by the church, the great civilizer of the\nnations. The northern barbarians that remained at home, the Germans,\nthe Scandinavians, the Sclaves, were civilized by the labors of\nChristian monks and missionaries from Rome and Constantinople, from\nGaul, England, and Ireland. In no instance has their civilization\nbeen of indigenous origin and development.\n\nSir John Lubbock replies to this as he does to Archbishop Whately's\nassertion that no instance is on record of a savage people having\nrisen to a civilized state by its own indigenous and unassisted\nefforts, that it is no objection, because we should not expect to\nfind any record of any such an event, since it took place, if at\nall, before the invention of letters, and in \"prehistoric times.\"\nWe grant that the fact that there is no _written_ record of it is\nnot conclusive proof that no instance of the kind ever occurred;\nbut if so important an event ever occurred, we should expect some\ntrace of it in the traditions of civilized nations, or at least\nfind some tendencies to it in the outlying savage nations of the\npresent, from which it might be inferred as a thing not improbable in\nitself. But nothing of the sort is found. The author's appeal to our\nignorance, and our ignorance, cannot serve his purpose. He arraigns\nthe universal faith of Christendom, and he must make out his case by\npositive, not simply negative proofs. Till his hypothesis is proved\nby positive evidence, the faith of Christendom remains firm, and\nnothing can be concluded against it.\n\nBut how really stands the question? Sir John finds in the various\noutlying savage tribes numerous facts which he takes to be the\noriginal germs of civilization, and hence he concludes that the\nprimitive condition of the human race was that of \"utter barbarism,\"\nand the nations, or, as he says, the races, that have become\ncivilized, \"have become so by their indigenous and unaided efforts,\nby their own inherent energy and power of self-development or\nprogress.\" But the facts he alleges may just as well be reminiscences\nof a past civilization as anticipations of a civilization not yet\ndeveloped; and in our judgment--and it is not to-day that for the\nfirst we have studied the question--they are much better explained as\nreminiscences than as anticipations, nay, are not explicable in any\nother way. The facts appealed to, then, can at best count for nothing\nin favor of the hypothesis of natural progress or development. They\ndo not prove it or render it probable.\n\nHe is able, and he confesses it, to produce no instance of the\nnatural and unassisted progress of any race of men from barbarism to\ncivilization, and even his own facts show that barbarous or savage\ntribes are not naturally progressive, but stationary, struck with\nimmobility. Where, then, are the proofs of his hypothesis? He has\nyet produced none. Now, on the other hand, we have shown him that,\nin all known instances, the passage from barbarism into civilization\nhas been effected only by supernatural aid, or by the influence\nof a previously civilized race or people. We have shown him also\nthat the Gentile apostasy, which the Bible records and our religion\nasserts, sufficiently explains the origin of barbarism. We have also\nshown him nations once civilized falling into barbarism, and, in\naddition, have shown him the tendency of an apostate people to lapse\ninto barbarism existing and operating before our very eyes, in men\nwhose ancestors were once civilized and even Christians. The chief\nelements of barbarism he describes exist and are encouraged and\ndefended in our midst by men who are counted by themselves and their\ncontemporaries as the great men, the great lights, the advanced party\nof this advanced age. Let the apostasy become more general, take\naway the church or deprive her of her influence, and eliminate from\nthe laws, manners, and customs of modern states what they retain of\nChristian doctrine and morality, and it is plain to see that nations\nthe loudest in their boast of their civilization would, if not\nsupernaturally arrested in a very short space of time, sink to the\nlevel of any of the ancient or modern outlying savage tribes.\n\nSuch is the case, and so stands the argument. Sir John Lubbock brings\nforward a hypothesis, not original with him indeed, and the full\nbearing of which we would fain believe he does not see, for which\nhe adduces and can adduce not a single well-authenticated fact, and\nwhich would not be favored for a moment by any one who understands\nit, were it not for its contradiction of the Biblical doctrine and\nChristian tradition. But while there is absolutely no proof of the\nhypothesis, all the known facts of history or of human nature, as\nwell as all the principles of religion and philosophy, with one\nvoice pronounce against it as untenable. Is not this enough? Nothing\nis more certain than Christian faith; no fact is or can be better\nauthenticated than the fact of revelation; we might then allege that\nthe hypothesis is disproved, nay, not to be entertained, because it\nis contrary to the Christian revelation, than which nothing can be\nmore certain. We should have been perfectly justified in doing so,\nand so we should have done; but as the author appeals to science\nand progress to support himself on facts, we have thought it best,\nwithout prejudice to the authority of faith, to meet him on his own\nground, to show him that science does not entertain his appeal,\nand that his theory of progress is but a baseless hypothesis,\ncontradicted by all the known facts in the case and supported by\nnone; and therefore no science at all.\n\nSir John's theory of progress is just now popular, and is put forth\nwith great confidence in the respectable name of science, and the\nmodern world, with sciolists, accept it, with great pomp and parade.\nYet it is manifestly absurd. Nothing cannot make itself something,\nnor can anything make itself more than it is. The imperfect cannot\nof itself perfect itself, and no man can lift himself by his own\nwaistbands. Even Archimedes required somewhere to stand outside of\nthe world in order to be able to raise the world with his lever.\nYet we deny not progress; we believe in it, and hold that man is\nprogressive even to the infinite; but not by his own unaided effort\nor by his own inherent energy and natural strength, nor without the\nsupernatural aid of divine grace. But progress by nature alone, or\nself-evolution, though we tried to believe it when a child, we put\naway when we became a man, as we did other childish things.\n\nThus much we have thought it our duty to say in reply to the theory\nthat makes the human race begin in utter barbarism, and civilization\nspring from natural development or evolution, so popular with our\nunchristian scientists or--but for respect to the public we would\nsay--sciolists. We have in our reply repeated may things which we\nhave said before in this magazine, and which have been said by\nothers, and better said. But it will not do to let such a book as the\none before us go unanswered in the present state of the public mind,\ndebauched as it is by false science. If books will repeat the error,\nwe can only repeat our answer.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[128] _The Origin of Civilization and the Primitive Condition of Man:\nMental and Social Condition of Savages._ By Sir John Lubbock, Bart.,\nM.P., F.R.S., etc. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1871. 16mo, pp. 380.\n\n[129] See _The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex_, by\nCharles Darwin.\n\n\n\n\nPAU.\n\n\nAmerican tourists make a great mistake in not generally including\nthe Pyrenees in their route of European travel. Unless ordered there\nby a physician to repair a wasted or broken-down constitution, they\nscarcely think of visiting the most beautiful country perhaps in\nthe world. Paris is France, and, as the route from Paris to Spain\nlies direct, they pass through the Pyrenees, admire them casually,\nbut rarely pause to examine their beauties and the curiosities of\nthe quaint old towns embedded in their hills. Since chances of\nthis nature alone led me to discover what since has remained in my\nmemory an exquisite picture to be revivified at any moment, I cannot\nblame others for following the usual guide-book routes of Europe,\nand spending their money freely on places far less worthy their\nattention. After a severe typhoid fever of ten weeks in Paris, and\nstill so feeble that I had to be almost carried to the depot, I set\nout on the 5th of January, 1869, accompanied by my nurse, to make\nthe journey to the Pyrenees, if possible, in a day and a half. We\nleft Paris at 10.45 A.M., by the Chemin de Fer d'Orl\u00e9ans. Resting\nfor a few minutes at the historical old towns of Orl\u00e9ans, Tours,\nPoitiers, Angoul\u00eame, and Livourne, we arrived at Bordeaux at eleven\nP.M., where we remained for the night. The next morning at eight\nwe pursued our journey, passing Dax, so celebrated for its warm\nmud-baths, said to be a remedy for rheumatic complaints, and a little\nafter one P.M. I found my friends awaiting me at Pau. Entering one\nof the queer little half-omnibuses that hold six people and their\nluggage, I was carried through the oddest of small white streets to\nmy lodging in the Juran\u00e7on, near the villa of my friend.\n\nNever shall I forget my impressions while entering the room prepared\nfor me, and leaning on the arm of the dear girl who with her mother\nand sister had done everything for my comfort. It was the Epiphany,\nthe day of light; and it seemed as if the soft sunlight that shone\nin that pretty room and rested on the fragrant flowers was to me the\nforeshadowing of a renewed life and happy future. The air was balmy\nas a June day, and from my window rose the glorious Pyrenees. Covered\nwith their everlasting mantles of snow, they rose proudly to heaven,\nas if they defied the clouds above them. A second lower range, with\nits varied shades of green and the tropical luxuriance at its base,\ncompleted the picture. Exhausted with my journey, my eyes filled with\ntears of joy at all my sweet surroundings, I could have begged my God\nthere and then to let me sleep for ever.\n\nDay after day I walked my few steps in my balcony and took in this\nlovely picture. As yet I had not seen the town; my strength was\ninsufficient, and I simply rested and recuperated. The climate seemed\nto me a strange one for invalids--a queer mixture, as I thought it,\nof flannels and sun-umbrellas. The mornings and evenings were cold\nand chilly with the air that blew down from the mountains, and the\nmiddle of the day, from eleven until three o'clock, so intensely hot\nthat it was necessary to be well protected against sun-stroke. Still,\nit is the great resort of consumptives, and at almost every turn\none encounters the muffled-up pale countenance of the poor invalid.\nBut for this one sad feature, the exquisite scenery, the tropical\nfoliage, the picturesque villas, and the town itself, of white\nlimestone, rising around its great chateau to the very heavens, with\nthe merry hum of voices, that greets you on every side, might well\nmake you imagine you had at last found the fairy dreamland--a country\nthat realized the fairy ideal of childhood.\n\nThis, too, is the land of the troubadour, and the quaint wild music\nchanted by the peasantry has a something about it irresistibly\nattractive, something one hears nowhere else; now dreamy, now bright,\nalmost monotonous at times, then suddenly bursting into strains of\nsadness in which the whole depths of a life are portrayed. Then there\nis the ringing mountaineer song, too, with its clear and measured\ncadence, and a certain bravery in its tones which could easily\nforetell the difficult mastering of such a people, should it ever\nagain be required.\n\nThe mixture of Spanish merchants and wanderers among the population\ngives to their parks and squares a pretty effect. They cross the\nPyrenees with their showy wares, their strings of perfumed beads,\nbracelets, necklaces, rosaries, all made of the wood that grows\nat the foot of their mountains. Dressed in their own picturesque\ncostumes, and carrying their merchandise of every imaginable\ncolor--red and bright yellow predominating--they accost you with a\ngrace which renders them irresistible, and you find yourself rather\npoorer for the encounter.\n\nI improved so rapidly in this climate, getting wholly rid of my cough\nand gaining twenty-five pounds in little over four weeks, that I\nconcluded I was well enough to return to Paris, and thence, after\nanother rest in England, home. I resolved, therefore, to see all that\nPau offered to the sight-seer.\n\nI drove with my kind friends several times to and around the varied\nand pretty villas: the primroses peeped at us from under the hedges,\nand here and there the rarest tropical trees and plants riveted our\nattention--and this in February, when the most of the world was\nice-bound. The snow-capped mountains, however, rising around us on\nevery side, would not permit us to entirely forget winter. The town\nitself, of twenty-one thousand inhabitants, is almost a miniature\nParis, some squares duplicating those of the great city, and the\nbridges separating Pau and the Juran\u00e7on, though crossing a much\nprettier river than the Seine, heightening the resemblance.\n\nThe churches are costly and beautiful; one built by the Society of\nJesus, entirely of white marble, and lined with exquisite pictures\nand gifts of the wealthy strangers who pass the season at the\ndifferent hotels, is a perfect gem in its way.\n\nThe hotels, the Place Royale with its music every Thursday--weather\npermitting, as say our friends of the Central Park--where crowds walk\nup and down and listen to but little, I imagine, are all attractions\nfor the health or pleasure seeker.\n\nVery odd old houses with gabled roofs, and reminding you of Dutch\npictures, start out occasionally from among the more modern and\nfashionable ones, and seem to tell the story of change and decay.\n\nNot unfrequently a merry peasant wedding party, in a whole line\nof carriages trumpeting vigorously and raising the dust, pass you\nwith shouts, and compel your curiosity to recognize and salute the\nbride. It is said the strangers with their wealth and fashionable\nfollies are gradually obliterating these good old B\u00e9arnais customs,\nthrough the spirit of emulation they excite in a hitherto perfectly\nhappy peasantry. Women, however, still walk the streets with their\ndistaffs, and men knit as they guide the plough. Something of\nprimeval innocence still remains. Certainly no country was ever more\nparadisiacally formed to retain it.\n\nMy time was limited, however; I could not stay and study these\npeople and their customs as I would have wished. I could not visit\nthe great summer resort, the famed Eaux Bonnes, so beautifully\nnestled, they told me, among the higher Pyrenees, but must exert all\nthe strength I had to see before I left the great monument of Pau,\nthe grand old\n\n\nCHATEAU OF HENRY IV.\n\nThe street ascends to it, and through an arcade by stone steps to\nits park, which is now the everyday public resort. The park extends\nall around the chateau, and, crossing a pretty bridge erected over\nthe Rue Marca, it continues for some miles in an ornamented walk\ncontaining two principal avenues; one so shaded that it is cool all\nsummer, and the other sunny enough at any time to welcome and warm\nthe poor invalid who could not exist without his daily walk.\n\nWe do not find here the rich and varied architecture so attractive\nin other imperial parks, Versailles, for instance; the hand of man\nis displaced by that of nature, but the woods of rare trees on\nhills that give everywhere the exquisite panorama of the encircling\nPyrenees are more than compensatory for any omissions of art.\n\nThe gate of St. Martin greets you as you enter. Built in 1586, it was\nformerly the main entrance to the chateau when the drawbridge was\nused. Now it leads to the H\u00f4tel de la Monnaie, a dependence inhabited\nby the subalterns and furnishers of the palace. Here the money of\nB\u00e9arn was formerly made. Now we approach a hemicycle containing two\nlarge vases in Medici form of Swedish porphyry, and given to the\nchateau of Pau by King Bernadotte, who was born here. The statue of\nGaston Ph\u0153bus in white marble, the work of the Baron of Triquety,\ntowers between them. He stands the guard perpetual of the chateau.\n\nMuch of the land belonging to the former park has been divided and\nsold, and is now the Place Napol\u00e9on. Vestiges, however, of ancient\nwalls are still allowed to exist, and on the left may yet be seen\nthe remains of the Hermitage of Notre Dame des Bris, attributed to\nWilliam Raymond, ravaged during the religious wars, and entirely\ndestroyed in 1793.\n\nAt the foot of the hill on the north side stood also the Castet\nBeziat (in B\u00e9arnais dialect, _dearest castle_). And here let me\nspeak of this odd native patois. It is a mixture of French, Spanish,\nand Italian, and is understood only by strangers who know the three\nlanguages, yet it is euphonious and occasionally dignified. The\nbetter class of the peasantry speak both it and a pretty French.\nThey prolong the syllables more than in Paris, which adds greatly to\nthe sweetness of the sound. This _Ch\u00e2teau Ch\u00e8re_ was built after the\nmodel of the Ch\u00e2teau de Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne, by Marguerite\nof Valois.\n\nJeanne d'Albret made it her favorite residence, and here occupied\nherself exclusively with the education of her children, Henry IV. and\nCatherine, who, after the death of her mother, made it the secret\nresidence of the Count de Soissons, whom she passionately loved but\ncould not marry. No trace of this Castet Beziat exists now. But let\nus enter the great chateau, and first consider somewhat its origin.\nCentule le Bieux was its founder toward the end of the year 982,\nand his successors continued the southern portion, but it was not\nfinished until the time of Gaston Ph\u0153bus, who completed also the\ngreat square tower that bears his name, the ramparts and parapets,\nand the mill-tower, in order that he might make it his residence.\nThis mill-tower gave entrance to the Place de la Basse Ville, or\nformer field of battle, where hand to hand the armed knights decided\ntheir judiciary combats. About 1460, Gaston X., desirous to give his\nB\u00e9arnais people a truly royal residence, constructed the north and\neast portions of the edifice, laid out the park, and decided that\nthe states of B\u00e9arn should be always represented in the halls of the\ncastle.\n\nIn 1527, the Margaret of Margarets, the sister so dear to Francis\nI., becoming queen of Navarre by her marriage with Henry II., made\nit a true palace of the Renaissance, restoring it entirely and\nrefurnishing it from top to bottom.\n\nAbandoned later by Henry IV., become king of France, and despoiled\nof everything precious it possessed by him and Louis XIII., entirely\nneglected by their successors, it fell into the hands of governors,\nthen was seized by the republicans, who, not contented to sell at\nthe lowest price and piece by piece the lands of the royal domain,\nconverted into a tavern and stables the palace that formerly was the\ncradle of the great king.\n\nNot until the short reign of Louis XVIII. was any attempt made to\nrestore the castle to its former condition, a work soon neglected and\nabandoned, but recommenced in 1838 by Louis Philippe, who ordered\nbesides the complete refurnishing of the apartments pretty much as\nthey are seen to-day.\n\nNapoleon III., however, with his taste for the restoration of all\nfallen grandeur that may recall royalty or the Empire, has done all\nin his power to produce an almost magic transformation, a complete\nresurrection of the old chateau, and at the present time the work\ncontinues under the supervision of the most able architects.\n\nThe beautiful exterior that presents itself so commandingly, the\nharmony that prevails in every part of the building surrounding\nthe Court of Honor, the pretty windows opening on the chapel, the\nsculptures everywhere newly restored, the incessant labor on the\nsouthern portion, all denote the desire of Napoleon to preserve and\nembellish one of the most precious monuments of history.\n\nThe letters =G-P= in gold are placed in different parts of the\nbuilding. To Gaston Ph\u0153bus is accorded the honor of its construction.\n\nYou enter the chateau from the town-side by a bridge of stone and\nbrick, built by Louis XV. to replace the drawbridge that formerly\noccupied the site of the present chapel.\n\nPause on this bridge, and look around you. On either side is a\ndeep ditch which once defended the entrance of the chateau, now a\nmagnificent avenue planted with trees and covered with flower-beds.\nAt your left is the chapel, whose date is 1840. The doors and windows\nare elaborately sculptured. In front, you will notice three arcades\nconstructed in the style of the Renaissance, covered with a terrace\nand carved balustrade, which serves for the principal entrance.\n\nOn your left and under the portico is the porter's lodge. At\nthe right in the new building are the bureaus of administration\nand service; on the first story, the apartments of the military\ncommander; on the second, those of the register; and on the third and\nlast, the housekeeper's rooms for linen, etc.\n\nThe Court of Honor arrests your attention by its original form, its\ndeeply graven sculptures in the niches of the windows and doors\nrepresenting the different B\u00e9arnais sovereigns, and the statue of\nMars that faces the principal entrance. If these walls could speak,\nthey would tell how often the B\u00e9arnais people have assembled here\nwith shouts of respect or cries of vengeance, according as the\nqualities of their prince called forth the one or the other.\n\nThe towers of the chateau are six in number: at the left on entering,\nthe Tower Gaston Ph\u00e9bus; at the right, the new Tower and Tower\nMontauzet; at the lower end, the northwest, the Tower Bill\u00e8res; and\nat the southwestern end, the two Towers Maz\u00e8res.\n\nThe tower Gaston Ph\u00e9bus, or donjon, was called the tile tower,\nbecause it is built almost entirely of brick. It has a roof of slate\nwhich was carried off in a terrible storm in 1820.\n\nA balcony faces the church of St. Martin, where the president of the\nstates of B\u00e9arn took his place to proclaim the name of each newly\nelected sovereign.\n\nSeveral illustrious personages have inhabited this tower. Among\nothers, Clement Marot, the favorite and unfortunate adorer of the\nQueen Margaret, and Mademoiselle de Scudery, who passed the summer\nhere of 1637.\n\nUnder the reign of Louis XIV. it was converted into a prison of\nstate, and so continued until 1822.\n\nEach story is now inhabited and richly furnished, and on the fifth\nis a terrace that commands a most imposing view of the surrounding\ncountry.\n\nThe tower Montauzet, in the B\u00e9arnais dialect, takes its name from the\ncircumstance that only birds could reach the top; Montauzet meaning\nMount Bird! In truth, it has no staircase, and history tells us that\nin case of a siege the garrison ascended it by ladders, which they\ndrew up after them.\n\nIt had its dungeons, terrible wells into which criminals were\nlowered. An iron statue armed with steel poniards received them,\nclasped them in its arms, and, by ingenious means that the legend\ndoes not explain, murdered them in unspeakable tortures. Henri\nd'Albret closed up the entrance to these dungeons, and they were\nforgotten until the reign of Louis XV. He caused them to be opened,\nand discovered skeletons and iron chains fastened to the walls.\n\nThe ground-floor of the tower Montauzet formerly contained a fine\nfountain. This will be replaced. The three stories above are occupied\ngenerally by the domestics of the great dignitaries of the crown.\n\nThe other towers have nothing of interest. They are named from the\nvillages they face, and are simply advanced sentinels to defend the\napproach of an enemy from the Pyrenees.\n\nAs soon as a visitor arrives at the chateau, he is ushered into the\nwaiting-room called Salle des Gardes, because during the presence of\nmajesty the valets waited here under the supervision of an officer\nof the household. But little furniture is seen, a few old-fashioned\nchairs surmounted by lions and the arms of France and Navarre.\n\nFrom this room we enter the dining-room of the officers of the\nservice. There is nothing remarkable in its furniture, a long and\nvery wide table occupying the centre, and comfortable chairs placed\nagainst the wall. Two statues, the one of Henry IV., the other of\nTully, stand on either side of the door, and are singularly imposing.\n\nWe pass on to the dining-room of their majesties. This is far more\nelegant. Flemish tapestry adorns the walls, which was brought here\nfrom the Ch\u00e2teau de Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne. It represents\nthe chase in the different months of June, September, November, and\nDecember. A clock of the time and style of Louis XIV., and a statue\nof Henry IV. in white marble, by Francheville, which is said to be\nolder, and to represent the king more correctly than any other, are\nthe principal ornaments.\n\nThe Staircase of Honor leads us to the first story. It is richly\nsculptured with astonishing beauty and skill. Doors lead from it to\nthe kitchens below, and to the different towers.\n\nWe ascend and gain the waiting-room. During the presence of their\nmajesties, the door-keepers remain here. When the emperor is alone,\nhe chooses this for his slight repasts.\n\nThe most beautiful tapestry covers the walls. The subjects are of all\nkinds, mostly rural scenes, in which children or fairies predominate.\nThe furniture is of oak, and covered with leather.\n\nThe reception-room, the largest and most elegant in the chateau,\nawaits us next. Here, by order and under the eyes of the cruel\nMontgomery, general of Jeanne d'Albret, ten Catholic noblemen were\ntreacherously murdered. The sun shone in on us through the large\nbay-windows, and gilded the richly ornamented stone chimney, and\nthrew the reflection of the mountain-tops across the floor. We stood,\nperhaps, on the very spot where these brave souls had met their death\nso many years before, though no trace remained of the horrors of\nthat day. The guide told the story, and most of our party passed on\nto admire the tapestry and the costly vases that lend enchantment to\nwhat should be a chamber of mourning. With all its beauty, I was glad\nto escape to the family apartment.\n\nHere, it is said, Queen Margaret presided. Her picture, and those of\nFrancis I., Henri d'Albret, and Henry IV., formerly graced the walls,\nbut the hand of vandalism, in 1793, spared not even them. They were\nburned with all the other pictures of the chateau. A bronze statue of\nHenry IV., when a child, which graces a pretty bracket, and a table,\nthe gift of Bernadotte, ornament the room.\n\nThe sleeping apartments of the emperor and empress follow, furnished\ntastefully with S\u00e8vres china ornaments, on which are representations\nof Henry IV., Tully, and the Ch\u00e2teau de Pau, beautifully executed.\nThe walls are hung with Flemish tapestry; but in the boudoir of the\nempress are to be seen six pieces of Gobelin tapestry, so finished\nthat it was some time before it could be decided they were not\noil-paintings. The subjects are: \"Tully at the feet of Henry IV.;\"\n\"Henry IV. at the Miller Michaud's;\" \"The Parting of Henry IV. with\nGabrielle;\" \"The Fainting of Gabrielle;\" \"Henry IV. meeting Tully\nWounded;\" \"Henry IV. before Paris.\"\n\nAn odd Jerusalem chest, also in this room, is the admiration of\nstrangers. It is made of walnut, inlaid with ivory, and was brought\nfrom Jerusalem, and purchased at Malta in 1838.\n\nA bath-room of red marble of the Pyrenees is attached to these\napartments, from which we ascend to the second story.\n\nHere are large rooms much in the same style as the others, yet not\nquite so elaborate. In 1848, Abd-el-Kadir and his numerous family\noccupied this suite. An interesting model of the old chateau is\nhere shown, executed by a poor man named Saget, who presented it to\nthe Orleans family at a very low price, hoping, no doubt, another\nrecompense, which he never received.\n\nA room whose tapestry is devoted to Psyche leads us to a chamber\nwhich formed part of the apartment of Jeanne d'Albret, where it is\nsaid Henry IV. was born, and where his cradle is still preserved.\nThe bed that Jeanne d'Albret occupied ordinarily is in the room\nadjoining, and a quainter piece of architecture cannot be imagined.\nIt is of oak, richly carved, covered and mounted by a sleeping\nwarrior and an owl, emblems of sleep and night. In the inner portion,\ntowards the wall, is the Virgin, on one side, holding the infant\nJesus, and an Evangelist on the other. Very rich cornices, with lion\nheads projecting and the framework of the arms of B\u00e9arn, complete\nthe description. How, without steps, they ever got into those beds\nis a mystery; the upper berth of a steamer is easy of access in\ncomparison, but there we have always steps or underberths that serve\nthe same purpose.\n\nThe cradle of Henry IV. is a single tortoise-shell in its natural\nstate. It must have been a good-sized tortoise that gave its back to\nthe honor, but he must have been a very little baby to have slept\nin such a couch. The cradle hangs very gracefully, supported by six\ncords and flags embroidered in gold, with the arms of France and\nNavarre. Above is a crown of laurel, surmounted by a white plume of\nostrich feathers, and underneath all a table covered with a blue\nvelvet cloth.\n\nThe chapel and library are the only remaining objects of interest.\nThe volumes of the library were presented by the emperor a short time\nago, and they are well selected.\n\nThere were formerly two chapels, but the older one has been done away\nwith. The present one was built in 1849, on the site of the old gate\nof the drawbridge. The gate is still preserved, and on it a marble\nslab that formerly bore this inscription:\n\n        HENRICUS DEI GRATIA\n    CHRISTIANISSIMUS REX FRANCI\u00c6\n          NAVARR\u00c6 TERTIUS\n      DOMINUS SUPREMUS BEARNI\n               1592.\n\nThe interior of the chapel has lately been restored and repainted. It\nis not remarkable for anything, however. The altar-piece is tawdry,\nand not in the usual good taste of the chateau.\n\nWe left this again for the beautiful park, roamed through it once\nmore, and I took my last look at the imposing structure I had studied\nwith so much interest.\n\nI would advise all who visit Europe to see Pau and the Pyrenees.\nThose who do so will certainly say with me that, had they crossed the\nocean for nothing else, they would have been more than compensated.\n\n\n\n\nST. MARY MAGDALEN.\n\n\n      The winds of autumn whisper back soft sighing\n        To the low breathing of the Magdalen;\n      She on her couch of withered leaves is lying--\n        Dreams she of days that come not back again?\n      No--past and present both within her dying,\n        Her earnest eyes upon the page remain;\n      While the long golden hair, behind her flying,\n        No more is bound with ornament and chain.\n      The storm may gather, but she doth not heed;\n        Nature's wild music enters not her ears;\n      Her soul, that for her Saviour's woes doth bleed,\n        One only voice for ever sounding hears:\n      \"Follow his footsteps who thy sins hath borne,\n      And who for thee the thorny crown hath worn.\"\n\n\n\n\nMEMOIR OF FATHER JOHN DE BR\u00c9BEUF, S.J.[130]\n\n\nAmong the foremost and most distinguished of the Catholic\nmissionaries of America stands the name of Father John de Br\u00e9beuf,\nthe founder of the Huron Mission. Normandy has the honor of giving\nhim birth, and Canada was the field of his splendid and heroic\nlabors; yet the mission of which he was the great promoter was the\nprelude to, and was intimately connected with, subsequent missions\nin our own country; and at the time of his glorious death, his\nheaven-directed gaze was eagerly and zealously turned towards the\ncountry of our own fierce Iroquois, the inhabitants of Northern New\nYork, amongst whom he ardently longed to plant the cross of the\nChristian missions. His labors and those of his companions opened the\nnorthwestern portions of our country, and the great Valley of the\nMississippi, to Christianity and civilization, and the discoveries\nand explorations which followed were partly the fruits of his and\ntheir exalted ministry and enlightened enterprise; for, as Bancroft\nsays, \"the history of their labors is connected with the origin of\nevery celebrated town in the annals of French America; not a cape\nwas turned, not a river entered, but a Jesuit led the way.\" His fame\nand achievements belong to all America, indeed, more truly, to all\nChristendom. Saint, hero, and martyr as he was, his merits are a part\nof the heritage of the universal church; and while his relics are\nvenerated on earth, and even the enemies of our religion accord to\nhim the most exalted praise, Catholics may, with the eye of faith,\nbehold him in that glorious and noble band of martyrs in heaven,\ndecked in resplendent garments of red, dyed in their own blood,\npassing and repassing eternally, in adoration and thanksgiving,\nbefore the throne of him who was the Prince of Martyrs.\n\n      \"It hath not perished from the earth, that spirit brave and high,\n      That nerved the martyr saints of old with dauntless love to die.\n      In the far West, where, in his pride, the stoic Indian dies;\n      Where Afric's dark-skinned children dwell, 'neath burning tropic\n          skies;\n      'Mid Northern snows, and wheresoe'er yet Christian feet have trod,\n      Brave men have suffered unto death, as witnesses for God.\"\n\nWhile historians outside of the Catholic Church have marvelled at\nsuch extraordinary virtues and unparalleled achievements as have\nbeen displayed, not alone by a Xavier, but by the missionaries of\nour own land, and have extolled them as an honor to human nature,\nCatholics may be excused for regarding them as miracles of the faith,\ntriumphs of the church, and martyrs of religion. It seems strange\nthat the general historians of the church have bestowed so little\nnotice upon the planting and propagation of the faith in America. The\nhistory of these events presents to our admiration characters the\nmost noble, deeds the most heroic, virtues the most saintly, lives\nthe most admirable, and deaths the most glorious. While the church\nof America, in our day, counts her children by millions, what more\ninspiring lesson could she place before their eyes than the history\nof her early days, when her priests and missionaries were confessors\nand martyrs? Of these was the subject of the present memoir.\n\nJohn de Br\u00e9beuf was born in the diocese of Bayeux, in Normandy, March\n25, 1593, of a noble family, said to be the same that gave origin to\nthe illustrious and truly Catholic house of the English Arundels.\nHe resolved to dedicate himself to the service of God in the holy\nministry, and, with this view, entered the novitiate of the Society\nof Jesus, at Rouen, October 5, 1617. Having completed his noviceship,\nhe entered upon his theological studies. He received subdeacon's\norders at Lisseux, and those of deacon at Bayeux, in September, 1621;\nwas ordained a priest during the Lent of 1622, and offered up the\nholy sacrifice of the Mass for the first time on Lady-day of the same\nyear. He was, though of the youngest, one of the most zealous and\ndevoted priests of his order, and, from the time that he consecrated\nhimself to religion, was given to daily austerities and rigorous\nself-mortifications.\n\nCatching the spirit of his divine Master, Father Br\u00e9beuf conceived an\nardent thirst for the salvation of souls, and the foreign missions\nbecame the object of his most fervent desire. This chosen field\nwas soon opened to his intrepid and heroic labors. When Father Le\nCaron, the Recollect missionary in Canada, asked for the assistance\nof the Jesuits in his arduous undertaking of conquering to Christ\nthe savage tribes of North America, Fathers John de Br\u00e9beuf, Charles\nLallemant, and Evremond Mass\u00e9, themselves all eager for the task,\nwere selected by their superiors for the mission. These apostolic\nmen sailed from Dieppe, April 26, 1625, and reached Quebec after a\nprosperous voyage. The reception they at first met was enough to have\nappalled any hearts less resolute and inspired from above than were\nthe hearts of Father Br\u00e9beuf and his companions. The Recollects, a\nbranch of the Franciscan Order, who, through Father Le Caron, had\ninvited them over, had received at their convent on the river St.\nCharles no tidings of their arrival; Champlain, ever friendly to\nthe missionaries of the faith, was absent; Caen, the Calvinist,\nthen at the head of the fur-trading monopoly of New France, refused\nthem shelter in the fort; and the private traders at Quebec closed\ntheir doors against them. To perish in the wilderness, or to return\nto France from the inhospitable shores of the New World, was the\nonly alternative before them. At this juncture the good Recollects,\nhearing of their arrival and destitution, hastened from their\nconvent in their boat, and received the outcast sons of Loyola with\nevery demonstration of joy and hospitality, and carried them to\nthe convent. It is unaccountable how Parkman, in his _Pioneers of\nFrance in the New World_, in the face of these facts, related by\nhimself in common with historians generally, should charge against\nthe Recollects that they \"entertained a lurking jealousy of these\nformidable fellow-laborers,\" as he calls the Jesuits; who, on the\ncontrary, were the chosen companions of the Recollects, were invited\nto share their labors, and with whom they prosecuted with \"one heart\nand one mind\" the glorious work of the missions. The sons of St.\nFrancis and St. Ignatius united at once in administering to the\nspiritual necessities of the French at Quebec, and the latter, by\ntheir heroic labors and sacrifices, soon overcame the prejudice of\ntheir enemies.\n\nFrom his transient home at Quebec, Father Br\u00e9beuf watched for an\nopportunity of advancing to the field of his mission among the\nIndians. The first opportunity that presented itself was the proposed\ndescent of Father Viel to Three Rivers, in order to make a retreat,\nand attend to some necessary business of the mission. Father Br\u00e9beuf,\naccompanied by the Recollect Joseph de la Roche Dallion, lost no\ntime in repairing to the trading post to meet the father, return\nwith him and the expected annual flotilla of trading canoes from the\nHuron country, and commence his coveted work among the Wyandots. But\nhe arrived only to hear that Father Viel had gained the crown of\nmartyrdom, together with a little Christian boy, whom their Indian\nconductor, as his canoe shot across the last dangerous rapids in\nthe river Des Prairies, behind Montreal, seized and threw into the\nfoaming torrent together, by which they were swept immediately into\nthe seething gulf below, never to rise again. Neither the death of\nFather Viel, nor his own ignorance of the Huron language, appalled\nthe brave heart of Father Br\u00e9beuf, who, when the flotilla came\ndown, begged to be taken back as a passenger to the Huron country;\nbut the refusal of the Indians to receive him compelled him to\nreturn to Quebec. On the twentieth of July, 1625, he went among the\nMontagnais, with whom he wintered, and, for five months, suffered all\nthe rigors of the climate, in a mere bark-cabin, in which he had to\nendure both smoke and filth, the inevitable penalties of accepting\nsavage hospitality. Besides this, his encampment was shifted with\nthe ever-varying chase, and it was only his zeal that enabled him,\namid incessant changes and distractions, to learn much of the Indian\nlanguage, for the acquisition of the various dialects of which, as\nwell as for his aptitude in accommodating himself to Indian life\nand manners, he was singularly gifted. On the twenty-seventh of\nMarch following, he returned to Quebec, and resumed, in union with\nthe Recollects, the care of the French settlers. The Jesuits and\nRecollects, moving together in perfect unison, went alternately from\nQuebec to the Recollect convent and Jesuit residence, on a small\nriver called St. Charles, not far from the city.\n\nThe colony of the Jesuit fathers was soon increased by the arrival of\nFathers Noirot and De la Nou\u00eb, with twenty laborers, and they were\nthus enabled to build a residence for themselves--the mother house\nand headquarters of these valiant soldiers of the cross in their\nlong and eventful struggle with paganism and superstition among the\nIndians. Father Br\u00e9beuf and his companions now devoted their labors\nto the French at Quebec, then numbering only forty-three, hearing\nconfessions, preaching, and studying the Indian languages. They also\nbestowed considerable attention on the cultivation of the soil. But\nthese labors were but preparatory for others more arduous, but more\nattractive to them.\n\nIn 1626, the Huron mission was again attempted by Father Br\u00e9beuf.\nHe, together with Father Joseph de la Roche Dallion and the Jesuit\nAnne de Nou\u00eb, was sent to Three Rivers, to attempt a passage to the\nHuron country. When the Indian flotilla arrived at Three Rivers,\nthe Hurons were ready to receive Father de la Roche on board, but\nbeing unaccustomed to the Jesuit habit, and objecting, or pretending\nto object, to the portly frame of Father Br\u00e9beuf, they refused\na passage to him and his companion, Father Nou\u00eb. At last, some\npresents secured a place in the flotilla for the two Jesuits. The\nmissionaries, after a painful voyage, arrived at St. Gabriel, or La\nRochelle, in the Huron country, and took up the mission which the\nRecollects Le Caron and Viel had so nobly pioneered.\n\nThe Hurons, whose proper name was Wendat, or Wyandot, were a powerful\ntribe, numbering at least thirty thousand souls, living in eighteen\nvillages scattered over a small strip of land on a peninsula in\nthe southern extremity of the Georgian Bay. Other tribes, kindred\nto them, stretched through New York and into the continent as far\nsouth as the Carolinas. Their towns were well built and strongly\ndefended, and they were good tillers of the soil, active traders,\nand brave warriors. They were, however, behind their neighbors in\ntheir domestic life and in their styles of dress, which for both\nsexes were exceedingly immodest. Their objects of worship were one\nsupreme deity, called the Master of Life, to whom they offered\nhuman sacrifices, and an infinite number of inferior deities, or\nrather fiends, inhabiting rivers, cataracts, or other natural\nobjects, riding on the storms, or living in some animal or plant,\nand whom they propitiated with tobacco. Father Br\u00e9beuf had acquired\nsufficient knowledge of their language to make himself understood\nby the natives, and he was greatly assisted by the instructions and\nmanuscripts of Fathers Le Caron and Viel. Father Nou\u00eb, being unable\nto acquire the language, by reason of his great age and defective\nmemory, returned to Quebec in 1627, and was followed the next year\nby Father de la Roche, who had made a brave but unsuccessful effort\nto plant the cross among the Attiarandaronk, or Neutrals. The\nundaunted Br\u00e9beuf was thus in 1629 left alone among the Hurons. He\nsoon won their confidence and respect, and was adopted into the\ntribe by the name of _Echon_. Though few conversions rewarded his\nlabors among them during his three years' residence, still he was\namply compensated by his success in gaining their hearts, acquiring\ntheir language, and thoroughly understanding their character and\nmanners. So completely had he gained the good-will of the Hurons,\nthat, when he was about to return in 1629 to Quebec, whither his\nsuperior had recalled him, in consequence of the distress prevailing\nin the colony, the Indians crowded around him to prevent him from\nentering the canoes, and addressed him in this touching language;\n\"What! Echon, dost thou leave us? Thou hast been here now three\nyears, to learn our language, to teach us to know thy God, to adore\nand serve him, having come but for that end, as thou hast shown; and\nnow, when thou knowest our language more perfectly than any other\nFrenchman, thou leavest us. If we do not know the God thou adorest,\nwe shall call him to witness that it is not our fault, but thine,\nto leave us so.\" Deeply as he felt this appeal, the Jesuit could\nknow no other voice when his superior spoke; and having given every\nencouragement to those who were well disposed toward the faith,\nand explained why he should go when his superior required it, he\nembarked on the flotilla of twelve canoes, and reached Quebec on the\nseventeenth of July, 1629. Three days after his arrival at Quebec,\nthat port was captured by the English under the traitor Kirk, who\nbore the deepest hatred toward the Jesuits, whose residence he would\nhave fired upon could he have brought his vessel near enough for his\ncannon to bear upon it. He pillaged it, however, compelling the\nfathers to abandon it and fly for safety to Tadoussac. But Father\nBr\u00e9beuf and his companions were, together with Champlain, detained\nas prisoners. Amongst the followers of Kirk was one Michel, a bitter\nand relentless Huguenot, who was by his temperament and infirmities\nprone to violence, and who vented his rage especially against the\nJesuits. He and the no less bigoted Kirk found in Father Br\u00e9beuf an\nintrepid defender of his order and of his companions against their\nfoul calumnies, while at the same time his noble character showed how\nwell it was trained to the practice of Christian humility and charity.\n\nOn the occasion here particularly alluded to, Kirk was conversing\nwith the fathers, who were then his prisoners, and, with a malignant\nexpression, said:\n\n\"Gentlemen, your business in Canada was to enjoy what belonged to M.\nde Caen, whom you dispossessed.\"\n\n\"Pardon me, sir,\" answered Father Br\u00e9beuf, \"we came purely for the\nglory of God, and exposed ourselves to every kind of danger to\nconvert the Indians.\"\n\nHere Michel broke in: \"Ay, ay, convert the Indians! You mean, convert\nthe _beaver_!\"\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, conscious of his own and his companion's innocence,\nand deeming the occasion one which required at his hands a full and\nunqualified denial, solemnly and deliberately answered:\n\n\"That is false!\"\n\nThe infuriated Michel, raising his fist at his prisoner in a\nthreatening manner, exclaimed:\n\n\"But for the respect I owe the general, I would strike you for giving\nme the lie.\"\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, who possessed a powerful frame and commanding figure,\nstood unmoved and unruffled. But he did not rely upon these qualities\nof the man, though he knew no fear, but illustrated by his example\non this as on every other occasion the virtues of a Christian and a\nminister of peace. With a humility and charity that showed how well\nthe strong and naturally impulsive man had subdued his passions,\nhe endeavored to appease the anger of his assailant by an apology,\nwhich, while it was justly calculated to remove all cause of offence,\nwas accompanied with a solemn vindication of himself and companions\nfrom the unjust imputation just cast upon them. He said:\n\n\"You must excuse me. I did not mean to give you the lie. I should be\nvery sorry to do so. The words I used are those we use in the schools\nwhen a doubtful question is advanced, and they mean no offence.\nTherefore, I ask you to pardon me.\"\n\n\"Bon Dieu,\" said Champlain, \"you swear well for a reformer!\"\n\n\"I knew it,\" replied Michel; \"I should be content if I had struck\nthat Jesuit who gave me the lie before my general.\"\n\nThe unfortunate Michel continued in this way unceasingly to rave over\nthe pretended insult, which no apologies could obliterate. He died\nshortly afterward in one of his paroxysms of fury, and was interred\nunder the rocks of Tadoussac. It was not permitted to him to execute\nhis threatened vengeance on the Jesuit, whom he was the first to\ninsult, and whom he never forgave, though himself forgiven.\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, together with the truly great and Catholic Champlain,\nthe governor of Quebec, and with the other missionaries, were carried\nprisoners to England, whence they all made their way to France.\n\nSad at this interruption of their work of love among the benighted\nsons of the Western wilds, the missionaries did not despair, but only\nawaited the restoration of Canada to France in order to resume their\nlabors. In the volume of his travels published by Champlain in 1632,\nis embraced the treatise on the Huron language which Father Br\u00e9beuf\nhad prepared during his three years' residence with that tribe, and\nwhich, in our own times, has been republished in the _Transactions of\nthe American Antiquarian Society_, as a most precious contribution to\nlearning.\n\nThe English government disavowed the conduct of Kirk, and Canada was\nrestored to France during the year 1632. As the conversion of the\nnative tribes was ever one of the leading features in the policy of\nCatholic statesmen in the colonization of this continent, it was\ndetermined to renew the missions which we have seen interrupted. In\nselecting missionaries for this task, the choice fell not upon the\nJesuits, nor the Recollects, as might have been expected, but upon\nthe Capuchins; and it was only when these good fathers represented\nto Cardinal Richelieu that the Jesuits had already been laboring\nwith fidelity and success in that vineyard, and requested that the\nmissions might be again confided to them, that Fathers Paul Lejeune\nand Anne de Nou\u00eb, with a lay brother, were sent out in 1632. They\narrived at Tadoussac on the twelfth of July. It soon became Father\nBr\u00e9beuf's great privilege and happiness to follow them. On the\ntwenty-second of May, 1633, to the great joy of Quebec, Champlain\nreturned to resume his sway in Canada, and Father Br\u00e9beuf accompanied\nhim together with Fathers Mass\u00e9, Daniel, and Devost. Though Father\nBr\u00e9beuf was not inactive about Quebec, still his heart longed for\nthe Huron homes and council-fires, and still more for Huron souls.\nShortly afterward, he had the consolation of beholding the faithful\nLouis Amantacha, a Christian Huron, arriving at Quebec, followed by\nthe usual Indian flotilla of canoes. A council was held, sixty chiefs\nsat in a circle round the council-fire, and the noble Champlain, the\nintrepid Br\u00e9beuf, and the zealous Lallemant, stood in their midst. A\ntreaty of friendship was concluded between the French and the Hurons,\nand, in confiding the missionaries to his new allies, Champlain\nthus addressed the latter: \"These we consider as fathers, these are\ndearer to us than life. Think not that they have left France under\npressure of want; no, they were there in high esteem: they come not\nto gather up your furs, but to open to you the doors of eternal life.\nIf you love the French, as you say you love them, then love and\nhonor these our fathers.\" This address was responded to by two of\nthe chiefs, who were followed by Father Br\u00e9beuf in his broken Huron,\n\"the assembly jerking in unison, from the bottom of their throats,\nrepeated ejaculations of applause.\" The members of the council then\ncrowded round him, each claiming the privilege of carrying him in his\ncanoe. And the Indians from the different towns began now to contend\namong themselves for the honor of possessing Father Br\u00e9beuf for\ntheir respective settlements. The contest was soon decided in favor\nof Rochelle, the most populous of the Huron villages. On the eighth\nof August, the effects of Father Br\u00e9beuf and of his companions,\nFathers Daniel and Devost, were already on board the canoes, when\nanother more serious difficulty arose: an Indian murderer had been\narrested by order of Champlain, in consequence of which an enraged\nAlgonquin chief declared that no Frenchman should enter the flotilla.\nThe Hurons were ready and anxious to convey the fathers, but they\nfeared the consequences of a rupture with the Algonquins. The fathers\nwere thus constrained, to the common sorrow of themselves and their\nHurons, to behold the flotilla depart without them. But the last\nscene in this separation was yet more touching. The faithful and\npious Louis Amantacha, overwhelmed with sorrow at the loss of the\nfathers, lingered in their company to the last moment, humbly made\nhis confession, and, for the last time for him, this Christian\nwarrior received the holy communion from the hands of Father Br\u00e9beuf.\nThen, having rejoined his companions, the flotilla quickly glided\nfrom the view of those who would have laid down their lives to save\nthe souls of those benighted and thoughtless voyagers.\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf and his companions returned to labor for a time longer\namong the French and Indians in and about Quebec, where their labors\nwere full of zeal and not without success. It was here that Father\nBr\u00e9beuf baptized Sasousmat, the first adult upon whom he conferred\nthat sacrament. While in health, Sasousmat had requested that he\nmight be sent to France for instruction in the faith, but he was\nnow overtaken by a dreadful illness, which deprived him of reason.\nFather Br\u00e9beuf visited him while in this state, and, returning from\nhis couch to the altar, he offered up for his benefit the holy\nsacrifice of the Mass in honor of St. Joseph, the glorious patron\nof the country; his prayer of sacrifice was heard in heaven, and\nSasousmat was restored to his mind. Father Br\u00e9beuf then instructed\nhim, and the joyful neophyte ardently and touchingly entreated the\nfather to baptize him. But the cautious and conscientious priest\ndeferred the sacrament, to the astonishment of the Indians, whose\nhabit was to refuse nothing to the sick. One of Sasousmat's Indian\nfriends said to the father, with great impatience: \"Thou hast no\nsense; pour a little water on him, and it is done.\" \"No,\" replied the\npriest of God, \"I would involve myself in ruin were I to baptize,\nwithout necessity, an infidel and unbeliever not fully instructed.\"\nThe patient was afterwards removed to the residence of Notre Dame des\nAnges, where he continued to receive the instructions of the father,\nand where he grew desperately ill, and was finally in an hour of\ndanger baptized. At the moment of his decease, a resplendent meteoric\nlight illumined the death-room, and shone far around about the\ncountry. There was afterwards another adult, named Nass\u00e9, a steadfast\nfriend of the missionaries, who fell dangerously ill, and was nursed\nby Father Br\u00e9beuf. He too made earnest entreaties to be baptized,\nbut the father subjected the convert to long delays and probations,\nand finally only bestowed the sacrament when death was imminent.\nInstances are related in which baptism was refused to adults, even\n_in extremis_, where the requisite dispositions were wanting. Such\nexamples, of which there are not a few recorded in the Jesuit\n_Relations_, besides exhibiting the zeal and self-sacrificing labors\nof the Catholic missionaries for the salvation of souls, furnish us\nwith a complete refutation of the wanton calumny that those early\nmissionary priests were in the habit of bestowing the sacrament\nupon entire multitudes of savages without previous instruction or\nprobation--a calumny now fully refuted by the _Relations_ and letters\nof the fathers themselves, who, while they penned the humble story\nof their labors, to be transmitted to their superiors in Europe, knew\nnot that the same would serve as evidence for their own vindication.\n\nWith the return of spring, the time again drew near for the\nappearance of the usual flotilla of Indian canoes at the trading\npost of Three Rivers. On the 1st of July, Fathers Br\u00e9beuf and Daniel\nrepaired to Three Rivers, to procure a passage in the flotilla for\nthe Huron country, and Father Devost joined them in a few days.\nBut the canoes were slow in coming in; the Hurons had sustained a\nterrific defeat, losing two hundred braves, and the gallant Christian\nwarrior Louis Amantacha was among the slain. No sooner, however,\nhad a few canoes arrived, than Father Br\u00e9beuf pressed forward to\nsecure a passage; but the hostile Algonquin and the cautious Huron\ndiscovered innumerable obstacles in the way of his going with them,\nand it seemed that he was again to be disappointed in his hopes of\nreaching his beloved mission. At length, by the influence of the\nFrench commanders, which was supported as usual by presents, it was\narranged that a passage should be given to one missionary and two\nmen, and even then Father Br\u00e9beuf was left out. He thus describes\nhis difficulties: \"Never did I see voyage so hampered and traversed\nby the common enemy of man. It was by a stroke of heaven that we\nadvanced, and an effect of the power of the glorious St. Joseph,\nin whose honor God inspired me to promise twenty masses, in the\ndespair of all things.\" At the moment that this vow was made, a\nHuron, who had agreed to carry one of the Frenchmen in his canoe,\nwas suddenly inspired to take Father Br\u00e9beuf in his stead. Thus a\npassage was secured. But such were the hurry, confusion, and want\nof accommodation, that the missionaries were compelled to leave\nbehind them all their effects, except such as were necessary for\nsaying Mass. Too glad to be admitted into this vineyard which they\nhad so long sought, they cheerfully made every sacrifice. With\nlight and joyous hearts and ready hands, they plied the oar from\nmorning till night; they recited the sacred office by the evening\nfire; they nursed all who fell sick on the voyage with so much\ncharity and tenderness as to melt the hearts of those savage sons\nof the wilderness; at fifty different points, where the passage was\ndangerous or obstructed, they volunteered to carry the packages, and\neven the canoes, on their shoulders around the portages; and at one\nplace Father Br\u00e9beuf barely escaped a watery grave at a rapid where\nhis canoe was hurried over the impetuous current. At length, after\nmuch suffering, they reached the shores of the Huron country on the\n5th of August, 1634.\n\nThe following description of this remarkable journey of the fathers\nis from the eloquent and graphic, but not always impartial, pages of\nParkman's _Jesuits in North America_:\n\n    \"They reckoned the distance at nine hundred miles; but\n    distance was the least repellant feature of this most\n    arduous journey. Barefoot, lest their shoes should\n    injure the frail vessel, each crouched in his canoe,\n    toiling with unpractised hands to propel it. Before\n    him, week after week, he saw the same lank, unkempt\n    hair, the same tawny shoulders and long, naked arms,\n    ceaselessly plying the paddle. The canoes were soon\n    separated, and for more than a month the Frenchmen\n    rarely or never met. Br\u00e9beuf spoke a little Huron,\n    and could converse with his escort; but Daniel and\n    Devost were doomed to a silence unbroken save by the\n    unintelligible complaints and menaces of the Indians,\n    of whom many were sick with the epidemic, and all were\n    terrified, desponding, and sullen. Their only food was\n    a pittance of Indian corn, crushed between two stones\n    and mixed with water. The toil was extreme. Br\u00e9beuf\n    counted thirty-five portages, where the canoes were\n    lifted from the water and carried on the shoulders\n    of the voyagers around rapids and cataracts. More\n    than fifty times, besides, they were forced to wade\n    in the raging current, pushing up their empty barks,\n    or dragging them with ropes. Br\u00e9beuf tried to do his\n    part, but the boulders and sharp rocks wounded his\n    naked feet, and compelled him to desist. He and his\n    companions bore their share of the baggage across the\n    portages, sometimes a distance of several miles. Four\n    trips, at the least, were required to convey the whole.\n    The way was through the dense forest, encumbered with\n    rocks and logs, tangled with roots and underbrush, damp\n    with perpetual shade, and redolent of decayed leaves\n    and mouldering wood. The Indians themselves were often\n    spent with fatigue. Br\u00e9beuf, a man of iron frame and a\n    nature unconquerably resolute, doubted if his strength\n    would sustain him to the journey's end. He complains\n    that he had no moment to read his breviary, except by\n    the moonlight or the fire when stretched out to sleep\n    on a bare rock by some savage cataract of the Ottawa,\n    or in a damp nook of the adjacent forest.\n\n    \"Descending French River and following the lonely\n    shores of the great Georgian Bay, the canoe which\n    carried Br\u00e9beuf at length neared its destination,\n    thirty days after leaving Three Rivers. Before him,\n    stretched in savage slumber, lay the forest shore of\n    the Hurons. Did his spirit sink as he approached his\n    dreary home, oppressed with a dark foreboding of what\n    the future should bring forth? There is some reason\n    to think so. Yet it was but the shadow of a moment;\n    for his masculine heart had lost the sense of fear,\n    and his intrepid nature was fired with a zeal before\n    which doubts and uncertainties fled like the mists\n    of the morning. Not the grim enthusiasm of negation,\n    tearing up the weeds of rooted falsehood, or with\n    bold hand felling to the earth the baneful growth\n    of overshadowing abuses; his was the ancient faith\n    uncurtailed, redeemed from the decay of centuries,\n    kindled with a new life, and stimulated to a\n    preternatural growth and fruitfulness.\"\n\nBut Father Br\u00e9beuf's trials did not end here, for the ungrateful\nIndians, who lived twenty miles below Father Br\u00e9beuf's destination,\nforgetting all his kindness and sacrifices and despising his\nentreaties, abandoned him on this desolate shore. In this distress,\nhe fell upon his knees and thanked God for all his favors, and\nespecially for bringing him again into the country of the Hurons.\nBeseeching Providence to guide his steps, and saluting the guardian\nangel of the land with a dedication of himself to the conversion of\nthose tribes, he took only such articles as he could in no event\ndispense with, and, concealing the rest, started forth in that vast\nwilderness, not knowing whither his steps might carry him. Providence\nguided those steps: he discovered the site of the former village,\nToanch\u00e9, in which he had resided three years, and even the blackened\nruins of his cabin, in which, for the same time, he had offered up\nthe Holy Sacrifice; but the village was destroyed and the encampment\nshifted to another place. Striking upon a trail, he advanced full of\nhope, and soon he suddenly stood in the midst of his Huron friends,\nin their new village of Ihonatiria. A shout of welcome from a hundred\nvoices--\"Echon! Echon!\"--greeted the joyous messenger of salvation.\nHe immediately threw himself upon the hospitality of the generous\nchief, Awandoay, from whom he obtained men to go for his packages;\nhe retraced his weary steps with them, and it was one o'clock in the\nmorning before all was safely lodged in the village of Ihonatiria.\nThe other fathers, after suffering similar ill-treatment from the\nIndians of the flotilla in whose canoes they came, finally found\ntheir way also, one by one, to Ihonatiria, in great distress.\n\nFor some time they partook of the liberal hospitality of Awandoay;\nbut, Father Br\u00e9beuf having decided to make Ihonatiria the mission\nheadquarters, they now constructed a residence for themselves,\nthirty-six by twenty-one feet, in which the centre was their\nhall, parlor, and business-room, leading, on the one side, to the\nchapel, and, on the other, to what was at the same time kitchen,\nrefectory, and dormitory. This rude hut--indeed, everything about\nthe missionaries--awakened the amazement of these simple sons of\nthe forest. They came in crowds from all parts of the Huron country\nto see the wonderful things possessed by the fathers, the fame of\nwhich had spread through the land. There was the mill for grinding\ncorn, which they viewed with admiration, and which they delighted to\nturn without ceasing. There were a prism and magnet, whose qualities\nstruck them with surprise and pleasure. There was a magnifying-glass\nwhich, to their amazement, made a flea as large as a monster; and a\nmultiplying lens which possessed the mysterious power of creating\ninstantly eleven beads out of one. But the clock, which hung on the\nwall of the missionary cabin, was to these untutored savages the\ngreatest miracle of all. The assembled warriors, with their wives\nand children, would sit in silence on the ground, waiting an entire\nhour for the clock to strike the time of the day. They listened to\nit ticking every second and marking every minute of the twenty-four\nhours; they thought it was a thing of life; inquired when, how,\nand upon what it fed. They called it sometimes the \"Day Chief\" and\nsometimes the \"Captain,\" and expressed their awe of so mysterious and\nsupernatural a being by the constant cry of \"Ondaki! Ondaki!!\" \"What\ndoes the Captain say now?\" was the repeated question. The fathers\nwere obliged to establish certain regulations for visitors, whose\npresence would have left them no time for rest or devotion during the\ntwenty-four hours, while, at the same time, they availed themselves\nof these curiosities for attracting the Indians to the mission cross\nbefore their door and to the first simple lessons in religion. They\nthus interpreted the strokes of the clock: \"When he strikes twelve\ntimes, he says, 'Hang on the kettle,' and when he strikes four times,\nhe says, 'Get up and go home.'\" The Indians rigidly obeyed these\ncommands of the little \"Day Chief.\" The crowd was densest at the\nstroke of twelve, when the kettle was hung and the fathers' sagamite\npassed around; and at the stroke of four, all arose at once and\ndeparted, leaving their good entertainers to say their office and\nrosary, study and make notes on the Huron language, write letters\nto their superiors, and consult over the plans for conducting the\nmission. The fathers also gave some lessons to their Huron friends\non the subject of self-defence and military engineering. The Hurons,\nliving in constant dread of the Iroquois, were glad to learn a more\nperfect way of constructing their palisade forts, which they had been\naccustomed to make round, but which the Frenchmen now taught them\nto make rectangular, with small flanking towers at the corners for\nthe arquebusmen. And, in case of actual attack, the aid of the four\nFrenchmen, armed with arquebuses, who had come with the missionaries\nfrom Three Rivers, was promised, to enable them to defend their\nwives, children, and homes from the unsparing attacks of their\nrelentless enemies.\n\nThe Indian children were the especial objects of the solicitude of\nthese untiring missionaries. They assembled these frequently at their\nhouse, on which occasions Father Br\u00e9beuf, the more effectually\nto inspire respect, appeared in surplice and baretta. The _Pater\nNoster_ was chanted in Huron rhyme, into which it had been translated\nby Father Daniel; and the _Ave_ and _Credo_ and Ten Commandments\nwere recited. The children were examined in their past lessons, and\ninstructed in new ones, and then dismissed joyously with presents of\nbeads and dried fruits. Soon the village resounded with the rhymes of\nthe _Pater Noster_, and the little catechumens vied with each other\nat home in making the sign of the cross and reciting the commandments.\n\nTo the adults the fathers earnestly announced Christ crucified,\nand endeavored to turn their admiration from the clock and other\ncuriosities of the mission house, which, as they said, were but\ncreatures, to the Creator, to heaven, and to the faith. The\nfirst-fruits of the mission were soon gathered; several infants, in\ndanger of death, were baptized, and several adults were also admitted\ninto the Christian church through the same regenerating waters.\n\nBut the enemies of religion and of truth were jealously watching\nthese successes, and soon the fathers encountered the same opposition\nthat always besets the introduction of Christianity into heathen\nnations; that is, the jealousy and hatred of the native priests, or\nofficials entrusted with the matters of religion or the superstitious\nrites of the country. These, among our American tribes, were the\nmedicine men. These wicked sorcerers accused Father Br\u00e9beuf and\nhis companions of causing the drought, of blighting the crops, of\nintroducing the plague, in fine, of every evil that afflicted the\ncountry or any of the people. The missionaries began to be insulted,\nthe cross before their residence was turned into a target, and\ncurses and imprecations greeted them on every side. But the prayers\nof the fathers, and especially a novena of masses in honor of St.\nJoseph, were soon followed by copious rains, and the medicine-men\nwere confounded, while the fathers were received with honor and\nesteem. The old and young were instructed in the faith, catechetical\nclasses were opened, and all ages and conditions took pleasure\nin contending for the pictures, medals, and other little rewards\nwhich were bestowed upon the studious. On Sundays, the Indians\nwere assembled at Mass; but, in imitation of the custom which\nprevailed in the early church, Father Br\u00e9beuf dismissed them at the\noffertory, after reciting for them the prayers they had learned. In\nthe afternoon, catechetical instructions were given, and all were\nexamined on what they had learned during the week. In August, 1635,\nFathers Pijart and Mercier, then recently arrived from France, came\ninto the Huron country to join the little missionary band, who were,\neven after this increase of their force, kept constantly laboring.\n\nIn April, 1636, the missionaries attended the \"feast of the dead,\"\na great solemnity of the Indians, when the bones of their dead are\ntaken down from their aerial tombs, and, being wrapped in the richest\nfurs, and surrounded with various implements, are deposited in the\ncommon mound, amid the songs, games, and dancing of the living.\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, the courageous champion of the faith, seized upon\nthis occasion to announce the saving word of truth in the very midst\nof the ancient and most cherished rites of a heathen superstition.\nHe declared that such ceremonies were utterly vain and fruitless\nfor souls which, like the souls of all in that mound, were lost for\never; that souls on death went either to a realm of bliss or a world\nof woe; that the living alone could choose, and, if they preferred\nthe former, he and the other fathers were there to show the way.\nThis speech was accompanied with a present to the assembled chiefs,\na means most effectual in gaining the good-will of the Indians.\nThe latter offered no opposition to the baptism of their infants,\nand expressed themselves as if well disposed towards the faith\npreached by the fathers. In December, the mission among the Hurons\nwas formally consecrated to the Immaculate Conception. Baptism was\nadministered to nearly thirty of the tribe, amongst whom was one, a\nlittle girl, of singular interest, named Mary Conception. This little\nchild was remarkable for her love of prayer and her fondness for the\nmissionaries and whatever pertained to religion; she ran as gaily to\ncatechism as the other children to their play, and took a singular\npleasure in walking beside the missionary as he was reciting his\noffice, making the sign of the cross and praying louder whenever he\nturned in his walk. In 1635, fourteen baptisms were reported by the\nfathers, and in July, 1636, eighty-six, amongst whom was the chief,\nwho was sincerely converted to the faith. Father Br\u00e9beuf made many\nexcursions to distant villages and families. In October, he visited\nthe family of Louis de Sainte Foi, who, having been taken to France\nby the fathers, was baptized at Rouen, but was now grown cold in his\nreligion. This visit, in which Father Br\u00e9beuf was accompanied by\nFather Pijart, rekindled the ardor of the chief, and was the occasion\nof announcing the commandments of God to all his family. Devotion to\nthe Blessed Virgin, appealing as it does to the best natural feelings\nof the human heart, as well as to the highest and purest motives of\nreligion, was easily received, especially among the Indian mothers,\nto whom she was proposed for imitation by Father Br\u00e9beuf. He composed\nfor them, and in their own language, beautiful prayers of invocation\nto the Mother of God. So great was his proficiency in the Huron\nlanguage, that he was able to attach to his relation of this year a\ntreatise on the language and another on the customs of the Hurons,\nthe former of which has been published in English.\n\nIt was about this time that a delegation of Algonquin braves came to\nsolicit the alliance of the Hurons against the Iroquois. Failing to\nsecure their point with the Hurons, the Algonquins next turned to\nthe missionaries and endeavored to detach them from the Hurons, and\noffered, as an inducement to Father Br\u00e9beuf, to make him one of their\ngreat chiefs. Father Br\u00e9beuf, with a smile, replied, that he had left\nhome and fortune to gain souls, not to become rich or to gain honors\nin war, and dismissed the negotiators as usual with a present.\n\nThe removal of the headquarters of the mission from Ihonatiria to\nOssossan\u00e9 had been several times mooted; one day, as Father Br\u00e9beuf\nwas travelling to visit a sick Christian, he was met by the chief\nof Ossossan\u00e9, who so forcibly urged the change that Father Br\u00e9beuf\nwas induced to promise them a compliance with what had been in fact\nhis previous design. A promise was readily made on the other side\nthat the villagers of Ossossan\u00e9 would the following year erect\nthe necessary accommodations for the fathers. When the people of\nIhonatiria heard this, their chief, at daybreak, from the top of his\ncabin summoned all his people out to rebuild the cabin of the black\ngown. Old and young now went forth to obey the summons, and soon\nthe work was completed. When the next season for the feast of the\ndead came round, a great change was observable in its celebration,\na proof of the influence of Christian sentiments with the people.\nThe accustomed magnificence was dispensed with, and those who died\nChristians were not reburied, even in a separate portion of the\ncommon tomb. The ceremony consisted in nothing more than a touching\nmanifestation of the affection of the living for their deceased\nfriends, and the missionaries were too prudent to interfere. In\norder to show how earnest our missionaries were for the conversion\nof these tribes, it is worth recording that they established a Huron\nseminary at Quebec, and during this year Fathers Daniel and Devost\ndeparted from Huronia for Quebec, with several young Hurons destined\nfor students in this institution. It was also during this year that\nFathers Garnier, Chastelain, and Jogues arrived from France, and\nentered this promising vineyard.\n\nShortly after these arrivals, a contagious fever broke out in the\nHuron country, and several of the missionaries were seized with the\nmalady. It would be impossible, within the space allotted to this\nmemoir, to detail all their sufferings and privations. The hardy\nBr\u00e9beuf and the others that were not taken down, became the faithful\nand constant nurses of their sick companions, and, when these were\nrestored, the entire missionary band dedicated themselves to the\nnursing and spiritual succor of the afflicted people. Here, again,\nthe fathers met with the usual obstacles and annoyances from the\nnative sorcerers. The medicine-men, in whom the Indians had implicit\nconfidence, especially in sickness, resorted to their usual tricks,\nand the villages resounded with horrid superstitious orgies. Many\nrefused to let the fathers baptize their dying infants. Others,\nhowever, having seen the utter failure of their sorcerers to effect\na single cure, and having observed how the Christian baptism was\nfrequently followed by a restoration of the body also to health, had\nrecourse to the missionaries. But in such cases their visits of mercy\nwere obstructed by the insults, the threats, and ill-usage of the\nexcited rabble. But, as Bancroft remarks, \"the Jesuit never receded a\nfoot.\" He pressed forward with love and courage, frequently forcing\nhis way to the couch of the dying, and encountering threatened death\nto save a single soul. In order to propitiate the mercy of Heaven\nfor this afflicted people, Father Br\u00e9beuf assembled a council of the\nchiefs of several villages, and succeeded so far as to induce them,\nin behalf of themselves and their people, to promise solemnly, in\nthe presence of God, that they would renounce their superstitions,\nembrace the faith of Jesus Christ, conform their marriages to the\nChristian standard, and build chapels for the service of the one true\nGod. With the solemnity of this scene, however, passed away also\ntheir good resolutions. The Indian, ever inconsistent, except in\nhis attachment to his idols and his hunting-grounds, was soon again\nseen raving at the frenzied words and incantations of the sorcerer\nTonnerananont, who professed himself to be a devil incarnate. The\nplague continued to rage; not even the frosts of winter arrested its\ndestructive powers. Night and day Father Br\u00e9beuf and his companions\nwere travelling and laboring for those miserable and inconstant\nsavages. They went about over the country administering remedies\nfor the maladies of the body as well as those of the soul. Besides\nrelieving many by bleeding and other simple remedies, their heroic\nlabors were rewarded with other fruits far sweeter to them, the\nbaptism of two hundred and fifty expiring infants and adults. The\nbold and fearless advances and the devoted services of the Jesuit\nfathers during this season of disease and death may well have called\nforth from Sparks the remark that \"humanity can claim no higher\nhonor than that such examples have existed.\" In the spring the\npestilence abated, and the usual and regular duties and labors of\nthe mission were resumed. His superior knowledge of the language\ndevolved upon Father Br\u00e9beuf the greater burthen of instructing and\ncatechising the natives. In May, he called a council of the chiefs of\nOssossan\u00e9, and reminded them of their promise to build a cabin for\nthe fathers. The appeal was responded to, and, on the fifth of June,\nFather Pijart offered up the Mass of the Holy Trinity at Ossossan\u00e9,\nin \"our own House of the Immaculate Conception.\" On Trinity Sunday,\nanother happiness was enjoyed by Father Br\u00e9beuf, in the baptism of\nthe first adult at Ihonatiria. This was Tsiwendaentaha, a chief who\nhad manifested great perseverance in his wish to become a Christian;\nhe had repeatedly requested and entreated to be baptized, and had\nrenounced all connection with the medicine-men for three years, and,\nwhat was remarkable among the natives, had only once during that\ntime manifested any disposition towards a relapse. After prolonged\nprobation and careful instruction, Father Br\u00e9beuf baptized him on\nTrinity Sunday, conferring upon him the Christian name of Peter.\nThe ceremony was surrounded with as much magnificence as the infant\nchurch in that wilderness could bring, and in the presence of immense\ncrowds of Hurons. The corner-stone of the new church was laid on the\nsame occasion.\n\nThese consolations of the mission were soon succeeded by direful\ncalamities. Sickness still lingered in the country. Having failed\nby their superstitious rites to ameliorate the condition of the\npeople, the medicine-men now accused the fathers of being the cause\nof the pestilence, and even of having a design of destroying the\ncountry. A general outburst of indignation now assailed the holy\nmen. Everything connected with them or their religion now became\nobjects of suspicion--the pictures in the chapel, their mission\nflag flying from the top of a tree, the Mass in the morning, the\nevening litany, the walk of the missionaries by day, and especially\nthe clock, were successively condemned as demons, and signals of\npestilence and death. It was even rumored that the fathers concealed\nin their cabin a dead body, which they brought from France, and\nwhich was now supposed to be the origin of the infection. Goaded\nby their fears, and incited by their sorcerers, the Indians rushed\ninto the missionary residence to seize the mysterious corpse. As\nsuperior, the principal weight of these persecutions fell upon Father\nBr\u00e9beuf, who endeavored in vain to dispel such vain fears. The\nfathers were insulted and threatened with death in their own house. A\ngeneral council of chiefs and warriors was held, in which they were\nuniversally accused of causing all the evils of the country. The\ncourageous Br\u00e9beuf stood in their midst to refute their calumnies\nand expose their follies. Nothing could appease them. They offered\nto spare Father Br\u00e9beuf's life if he would deliver up the fatal\ncloth in which he had wrapt the pestilence. He indignantly refused\nto countenance their superstitions by compliance, but told them to\nsearch his cabin and burn every cloth if they thought proper. He\ntold them, however, that since they had pressed him so far, he would\ngive them his opinion as to the origin of their misfortunes, which\nhe then went on to trace to natural causes and their own foolish\nmethod of treating the sick, and spoke to them of the power of God\nand his justice in rewarding the good and punishing the wicked.\nFather Br\u00e9beuf concluded his remarks amidst shouts and insults, but\nwithout losing his characteristic courage and calmness. Despite his\nunanswerable appeal, the assembly thirsted for the blood of at least\none of the missionaries as an experiment, and at any moment one of\nthose devoted men might have fallen dead under the hatchet of some\nenraged savage. Repeated councils were held, and the death of the\nstrangers was resolved upon. The residence was burned, the stake\nprepared, and Father Br\u00e9beuf led forth. Having prepared himself for\ndeath, he now, in imitation of the Huron custom, gave the usual\nfeast, in order to show that he did not shrink from giving his life\nin testimony of the faith he had preached to them. Just before the\nmoment of his execution arrived, Father Br\u00e9beuf was summoned to a\ncouncil, where, amid insult and interruption, he delivered another\nspeech in advocacy of the faith, instead of explaining the plague,\nand, by one of those sudden changes of temper not unusual in Indian\nassemblies, he was acquitted and set free. As he passed from the\nwigwam of the council, he saw one of his greatest persecutors fall\ndead at his feet, under a stroke from the murderous tomahawk:\nsupposing that, in the dim light of a far-spent day, the murderer\nhad mistaken his victim, the future martyr asked: \"Was not that\nblow meant for me?\" \"No,\" replied the warrior; \"pass on: he was a\nsorcerer, thou art not.\" His companions were anxiously awaiting the\nresult; and when he walked into their midst, they received him as the\ndead restored to life. They all united in returning thanks to God for\nthe safety of the superior of the mission, and especially for the\nannouncement which that apostolic man made to them, that they might\nyet hope to remain in that country, and labor for the salvation of\ntheir persecutors.\n\nThe firm and uncompromising character of Father Br\u00e9beuf is strikingly\nillustrated in contrast with the fickleness of the Indians, the\ndifference between faith and superstition, by another circumstance\nwhich occurred during the prevalence of the pestilence. The Hurons,\nafter repeated recourse to their medicine-men, whose vile practices\nthey now saw to be barren of results, resolved to have recourse to\nthe fathers, whom they invited to attend a council. \"What must we\ndo that your God may take pity on us?\" they asked of the Christian\npriests. Father Br\u00e9beuf immediately answered: \"Believe in him; keep\nhis commandments; abjure your faith in dreams; take but one wife,\nand be true to her; give up your superstitious feasts; renounce your\nassemblies of debauchery; eat no human flesh; never give feasts to\ndemons; and make a vow that, if God will deliver you from this pest,\nyou will build a chapel to offer him thanksgiving and praise.\"\n\nIn the midst of their sufferings and the persecutions they sustained,\nthese heroic missionaries ceased not a single moment their labors of\nmercy and salvation. Themselves outcast and friendless, they visited\nand nursed the sick; repulsed, they pressed forward to the bedside\nof the dying; reviled for their religion, they still announced its\nsaving truths; threatened with death, they bestowed the bread of life\neternal upon others, even while the deadly tomahawk glistened over\ntheir heads. Such was the life the early Catholic missionaries led\nupon our borders; such, too, were the labors and sacrifices which\npreluded others, equally sublime and heroic, within the territory of\nour own republic.\n\nAmong the converts of Father Br\u00e9beuf at Ossossan\u00e9 was Joseph\nChiwattenwha, a nephew on the maternal side to the head chief of\nthe Hurons. From the time that he listened to Father Br\u00e9beuf's\nsermon at the \"feast of the dead,\" he had been an earnest and\nregular catechumen. He rejected the prevailing superstitions of his\nrace, and was remarkable for the purity of his morals, his freedom\nfrom the common Indian vice of gambling, and for his rare conjugal\nfidelity. Notwithstanding his virtues, and his repeated requests to\nbe baptized, Father Br\u00e9beuf delayed the sacrament, to make sure of\nhis thorough conversion, and, finally, only conferred it upon him\nin a moment of danger. The chief recovered from his illness, and,\ncalling all his friends together at a grand banquet, he addressed\nthem zealously in favor of the faith he had embraced. His faith and\nzeal were rewarded by the manifest protection of Heaven over himself\nand his family during the prevalence of the fever.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[130] Authorities: _The Jesuit Relations; History of the Catholic\nMissions_, by John G. Shea; _The Pioneers of France in the New\nWorld_, and _The Jesuits in North America_, by Francis Parkman;\nBancroft's _History of the United States_, etc., etc.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nBY HENRI LASSERRE.\n\n\nBOOK EIGHTH.\n\nI.\n\nThe appointment by the Bishop of a commission of examination, and\nthe analysis of M. Filhol, deprived Baron Massy, M. Rouland, and\nM. Jacomet of all pretext for continuing violent measures, or for\nmaintaining about the grotto strict prohibitions, barriers, and\nguards.\n\nIn justification of the restrictions previously made, it had been\nsaid: \"Considering that it is very desirable, _in the interest of\nreligion_, to put an end to the _deplorable_ scenes now presented at\nthe grotto of Massabielle.\" Now the Bishop, by declaring the matter\nto be of sufficient importance for his intervention, and by taking in\nhand the examination of those things which affected the interests of\nreligion, had deprived the civil power of this motive which it had\nmade so prominent.\n\nIn justification of the prohibition to go and drink at the spring\nwhich had gushed out under the hand of Bernadette, it had been urged\n\"that the care of the local public health devolves upon the mayor,\"\nand that this water \"is suspected on good grounds to contain mineral\ningredients, making it prudent, before permitting its use, to wait\nfor a scientific analysis to determine the applications which may\nbe made of it in medicine.\" Now, M. Filhol, by his decision that the\nwater had no mineral properties, and that it could be drunk without\ninconvenience, had annihilated in the name of science and of medicine\nthis plea of \"the public health.\"\n\nIf, then, these considerations had been real reasons for the civil\npower, and not merely specious pretexts; if it had really been acting\nin the \"interests of religion and the public health,\" instead of\nbeing under the sway of evil passions and intolerance; or if, in a\nword, it had been sincere instead of being hypocritical, it would now\nhave had nothing to do but to remove its prohibitions and barriers;\nit would have only had to leave the people perfectly free to drink of\nthis fountain, the perfect harmlessness of which had been attested by\nscience, and to recognize their right to kneel at the foot of these\nmysterious rocks, where for the future the church was to be on the\nwatch.\n\n\nII.\n\nBut this was not the case. There was a great obstacle to this course,\nso clearly indicated by logic and conscience; namely, pride. Pride\nwas the ruling spirit from one end of the scale to the other, from\nJacomet up to Rouland, including Baron Massy and the philosophical\ncoterie. It seemed hard to them to retreat and lay down their arms.\nPride never surrenders. It prefers rather to take an illogical\nposition than to bow to the authority of reason. Furious, beside\nitself, and absurd, it revolts against evidence. Like Satan, it says,\n\"_Non serviam_.\" It resists, it refuses to bend, it stiffens its\nneck, till suddenly it is broken by some contemptuous and superior\npower.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThere remained for the official and officious foes of superstition\none last weapon to use, one final struggle to make. Though the\nbattle seemed to be certainly lost in the Pyrenees, perhaps the\nlost position might be regained in Paris, and the favor of public\nopinion secured throughout France and Europe, before the cosmopolitan\nassemblage of tourists and bathers, returning home, should pass their\nsevere judgments on the other side. This was tried. A formidable\nattack was made by the irreligious press of Paris, the provinces,\nand other countries, upon the events at Lourdes and the Bishop's\nordinance.\n\nWhile the generals of the infidel army engaged in a decisive combat\nupon this vast scale, the duty of the Prefect of Hautes-Pyrenees,\nlike that of Kellerman at Valmy, was to hold at all costs his line of\noperation, not to recede a single foot from it, and not to capitulate\non any terms. The intrepidity of Baron Massy was well known, and\nit was understood that neither arguments nor the most surprising\nmiracles would prevail over his invincible firmness. He would stand\nby his sinking ship to the last. The absurd had in him an excellent\nchampion.\n\nThe _Journal des D\u00e9bats_, _Si\u00e8cle_, _Presse_, _Ind\u00e9pendance Belge_,\nand various foreign journals, also came manfully to the rescue. The\nsmallest newspapers of the smallest countries considered it an honor\nto serve in this campaign against the supernatural. We find, in fact,\namong the combatants, a microscopic sheet called the _Courant_,\npublished at Amsterdam.\n\nSome, like the _Presse_, by the pen of M. Gu\u00e9roult, or the _Si\u00e8cle_,\nby those of MM. B\u00e9nard and Jourdan, attacked the very idea of\nmiracles, declaring that they had had their day, that the discussion\nof them was no longer admissible, and to examine into a question\nwhich had already been decided by the light of philosophy was beneath\nthe dignity of free examen. \"Miracles,\" said M. Gu\u00e9roult, \"belong to\na state of civilization which is almost gone by. Though God does not\nchange, the conception which men form of him changes from age to age,\naccording to the prevailing standard of morality and intelligence.\nIgnorant nations who do not understand the harmony of the laws by\nwhich the universe is governed imagine that they see continual\nexceptions to these laws. They think that God appears and speaks to\nthem, or sends them a message by his angels, almost daily. But as\nsociety becomes more intelligent and better informed, and as the\nsciences based on observation come in to counteract the vagaries of\nthe imagination, all this mythology disappears. Man does not on that\naccount become less religious, but more so, though in a different\nmanner. He does not any longer see gods and goddesses, angels and\ndemons, face to face; but he seeks to discover the divine will as\nmanifested in the laws of the world. Miracles, which at certain\nperiods have been necessary to faith and served to convey the most\nimportant truths, have become in our day the bugbear of all serious\nconviction.\" M. Gu\u00e9roult declared that, if he should be told that the\nmost remarkable miracle was occurring close by his house on the Place\nde la Concorde, he would not take a step out of his way to see it.\n\"If such occurrences,\" added he, \"can occupy a place for a time among\nthe superstitious trumpery of the ignorant masses, they only excite a\nsmile of contempt among enlightened men, among those whose opinion\nis sure to be ultimately adopted by all the world.\"[131]\n\nOther papers valiantly set to work to distort the facts. Though\nalso attacking miracles in principle, the _Si\u00e8cle_, in spite of\nthe enormous yield of twenty thousand and odd litres a day, still\nremained, in its capacity of an enlightened and advanced journal, at\nthe old thesis of hallucination and infiltration. \"It seems difficult\nto us,\" said M. B\u00e9nard, very gravely, \"to see a miracle in the\nhallucination of a little girl of fourteen, or in the oozing out of\nsome water in a cave.\"\n\nAs for the miraculous cures, they were easily disposed of as follows:\n\"Hydropathic physicians also claim to effect the most extraordinary\ncures by means of pure water, but they have not as yet proclaimed\nupon the house-tops that these cures are miracles.\"[132]\n\nBut the most curious example of the good faith of the free-thinkers,\nor of their sagacity in examining this matter, is to be found in the\nDutch newspaper which we have mentioned above, and whose weighty\nnarrative was reproduced by the French journals. Let us see how this\nfriend of enlightenment enlightened the world by his account of the\nmatter:\n\n\"A new manifestation, designed to excite and promote the fervor of\nthe faithful in the worship of the Blessed Virgin, was imminent.\nThe deliberations of the bishops on this point had resulted in the\npreparation of the famous miracle of Lourdes. It is well known\nthat the Bishop of Tarbes appointed a commission of inquiry. The\nso-called conclusions of the report of the commission, which is\ncomposed of ecclesiastics and persons in the pay of the clergy, were\nprepared long before their first session. _The pretended shepherdess\nBernadette is not an innocent peasant, but a highly cultivated city\ngirl of a very wily character, who has passed several months in\na convent, where she was taught the part she was to play. There,\nbefore a small audience, rehearsals were made long before the public\nperformance._ As will be observed, nothing was wanting for the\ncompleteness of this comedy, not even the usual rehearsals. If at\nany time there is a scarcity of actors at Paris, the places can be\nadmirably filled from the ranks of the superior clergy. However, the\nliberal press has made the matter thoroughly ridiculous, and it is\nnot improbable that the clergy, in their own interest, will see the\nnecessity of being prudent.\"[133] The information of the journals\nseems hardly to have been so accurate as that which secured the\nsimple faith of His Excellency M. Rouland. The public, it is evident,\nwere treated with no more respect than the minister. This is too\noften the way in which the opinion of those whom M. Gu\u00e9roult called\nin his article \"enlightened men,\" alluding, no doubt, to the torrent\nof light thrown upon them by the press, is formed.\n\nAnother point of attack besides the actual events and the possibility\nof miracles was the ordinance of the Bishop of Tarbes. Philosophy,\nin virtue of the infallibility of its dogmas, protested against\nexamination, scientific study, and experiment. \"When some crazy\nperson sends a paper on perpetual motion or the squaring of the\ncircle to the Academy of Science, the Academy passes to the order\nof the day without wasting time in criticising such lucubrations.\nAnd there is no more need of examination in the case of a supposed\nmiracle. Philosophy, in the name of reason, passes to the order of\nthe day. To examine the claims of the supernatural facts would be\nto admit their possibility and to deny its own principles. In such\nmatters, proofs and testimony count for nothing. We do not discuss\nthe impossible, but dismiss it with a shrug.\" Such was the central\nidea of the thousand varied forms assumed by the fiery and excited\npolemics of the irreligious press. Vainly did it persist in denial\nand perversion; it was afraid to examine. False theories prefer\nto remain in the fluctuation and fog of pure speculation. By some\nnatural instinct of self-preservation, they fear broad daylight, and\ndo not dare to descend with a steady foot upon the firm ground of the\nexperimental method. They perceive that only defeat awaits them there.\n\nIn this desperate struggle against the evidence of facts and the\nrights of reason, the liberal mask of the _Journal des D\u00e9bats_\nunfortunately fell off, and showed the depth of furious intolerance\nconcealed under its philosophical exterior. The _Journal des D\u00e9bats_,\nby the pen of M. Pr\u00e9vost-Paradol, was terrified in advance at the\ngreat weight which the report of the commission and the decision of\nthe Bishop were sure to have, and accordingly appealed to the secular\narm, beseeching C\u00e6sar to put a stop to the whole thing. \"It is\nevident,\" said he, \"that a striking manifestation of divine power in\nfavor of a religion makes strongly for its individual truth, for its\nsuperiority over others, and its incontestable right to govern souls.\nIt is then an event of a nature to produce numerous conversions, both\nof dissenters and of infidels; in other words, it is an instrument\nof proselytism.\" He showed also the political importance of the\nresult of the examination. \"If this decision is favorable to the\nmiracle, it will have a tendency to dissolve in that part of France\nthe equilibrium now existing between the religious and civil powers.\nThe ministers of a religion in favor of which such prodigies are\nauthentically asserted are quite different sort of people from those\nwhich the Concordat provides for. They have a very different sort of\nauthority over the people, and in case of any collision they exert a\nvery different kind of influence from that of the council of state\nand the prefect.\"\n\n\"We have sufficiently shown,\" said the writer in the _D\u00e9bats_,\n\"the importance which the decision of the episcopal commission at\nTarbes must have in various points of view. Now, there is a truth\nhere which should be remembered, and of which M. de Morny has just\nvery properly reminded the council-general at Puy-de-D\u00f4me; that is,\nthat nothing of importance can legally be done in France without\nprevious authority from the administration. If, as M. de Morny\nvery justly remarks, one cannot move a rock or dig a well without\nthe consent of the administration, still less can one without its\nconsent authorize a miracle or establish a pilgrimage. Any one\nwho is concerned with religious matters, and especially with the\nopening of churches or schools of dissenting bodies, knows that the\nadministration has not merely one enactment, but twenty or thirty,\nwhich makes it all-powerful in such cases. The meeting of the\ncommission of the diocese of Tarbes can be prevented or its session\ncan be dissolved in a hundred different ways by the Concordat, by the\npenal code, by the law of 1824, by the decree of February, 1852, by\nthe central authority, by the municipal authority, by all conceivable\nauthorities. The decision of this commission can also be annulled by\nthe legal opposition of the administrative authority to the erection\nof a chapel or to the distribution of the miraculous water. The same\nauthority can prohibit and break up all meetings of the people, and\nprosecute the originators of such meetings, etc.\" Having arrived\nat this point, having notified C\u00e6sar and cried \"caveant consules,\"\nthe able writer resumed, for form's sake, his garb of liberalism.\n\"What is our object,\" said he hypocritically, \"in establishing this\npreventive right of the administration? Is it to urge them to use it?\nGod forbid.\" And thus he crept, by a sort of secret passage, into the\nranks of the friends of liberty.\n\nThe provincial journals echoed the sentiments of those of Paris. The\nbattle became universal. The sergeants, corporals, and privates of\nthe literary army pressed forward on the steps of the marshals of\nfree thought. The _Ere Imp\u00e9riale_ of Tarbes charged its blunderbuss\nwith arguments from Paris, and fired them off at the supernatural\nevery other day. The little _Lavedan_, also, had picked up a few\ngrains of powder, rather dampened, it must be owned, by the water of\nthe grotto, and did its best, aided, according to report, by Jacomet,\nto make its weekly penny-pistol effective.\n\nThe _Univers_, the _Union_, and the greater part of the Catholic\npapers bravely met their universal attack. Powerful talents lent\nthemselves to the service of the yet more powerful truth. The\nChristian press re-established the facts and demolished the miserable\nquibbles of philosophic fanaticism.\n\n\"Meeting with some unexplained facts to which the faith or the\ncredulity of the multitude attributes a supernatural character,\nthe civil authority,\" said M. Louis Veuillot, \"has decided without\ninformation, but also without success, in the negative. The\nspiritual authority comes in in its turn; it is its right and\nits duty to do so. But before making its judgment, it obtains\ninformation. It institutes a commission, an inquiry to examine the\nalleged facts, to study them, and determine their nature. If they\nhave actually occurred, and are really supernatural, the commission\nwill say so. If they have not occurred, or if they can be explained\non natural principles, the commission will also acknowledge that such\nis the case. What more can our adversaries desire? Do they wish the\nBishop to abstain from this examination, with a double danger before\nhim, either of failing to recognize a signal favor which Almighty God\nwould grant to his people, or of allowing a superstition to take root\namong them?\n\n\"The Bishop must necessarily have observed the strangeness of this\nconviction which had become so firm in the popular mind, upon the\nword of a poor and ignorant little girl; he must have asked also\nhow these cures could be accounted for, obtained as they had been\nby means of a few drops of pure water, swallowed or externally\napplied.... And if there have been in fact no cures, it must be\nascertained why the contrary has been believed. But, supposing that\nthe water has no mineral ingredient, as is said by the chemists,\nand that, nevertheless, the cures are certain, as many sick people\nand several physicians attest, we do not see any difficulty in\nrecognizing in the case something supernatural and miraculous, with\nall due respect to the explanations of the _Si\u00e8cle_.\"\n\nThe vigorous champion contended with all his enemies at once. A\ntouch of his pen sufficed to demolish the ridiculous idea of denying\nthe possibility of miracles, and of refusing even an examination to\nthese startling facts which a multitude had seen with their own eyes\nand attested on their knees. \"If any one should tell M. Gu\u00e9roult\nthat a great miracle had been worked in the name of Christ upon the\nPlace de la Concorde, he would not go, it seems, to see it. This is\nprudent in him certainly, for he is determined to remain incredulous;\nand in presence of such a spectacle he would not be so certain of\nfinding a natural explanation which would dispense him from going to\nconfession. But he would be still more prudent if he would witness\nthe miracle and believe, yielding to the testimony which God in his\nmercy would thus give him. The people, however, will not care for\nhis absence, and will not be at all disconcerted to hear that the\nthing is not at all extraordinary, and that they are the victims of\ndelusion. Things would take the same course at Paris as at Lourdes;\na miracle would be proclaimed, and, if there really had been one, it\nwould have its effect; that is, many men who had not as yet '_sought\nto discover the divine will_,' or who have not yet been successful\nin their search, would know and fulfil it; they would love God with\ntheir whole heart, soul, and mind, and their neighbors as themselves.\nSuch is the object which God intends in working miracles; and it is\nso much the worse for those who refuse to profit by them.\n\n\"Those who reject the supernatural, said an ancient writer, destroy\nphilosophy. They destroy it indeed, and especially since the advent\nof Christianity, because, wishing to take God out of the world, they\nhave no longer any explanation for the world or for humanity. As to\nthis God whom they exclude, some deny his existence, that they may\nget entirely rid of him; others make of him an inert and indifferent\nbeing, having nothing to require and requiring nothing from men,\nwhom he abandons to chance, having created them in a freak of his\ndisdainful power. Some, denying him in their very affirmation, as\nif they wished to satiate their ingratitude by doing him a double\ninjury, pretend to find him in all things, which theory dispenses\nthem from recognizing and adoring him anywhere in particular.\nMeanwhile, around them and even in themselves, humanity confesses\nits God. They reply by sophisms which are far from contenting them,\nby sarcasms the weakness of which they can hardly conceal from\nthemselves, and at last their science and reason, driven back to\nthe absurd, deprive them of their eyes and ears. They destroy all\nphilosophy.... God, taking compassion on the faith of the weak which\nthese false teachers would pervert, shows himself by one of those\nunusual displays of his power, which is nevertheless _one of the laws\nof the world_. They deny it. Look! we do not wish to see!... David\nsaid of the sinner, 'He has promised himself in his heart to sin; he\nrefuses to understand, that he may not be forced to do well.'\n\n\"Ah! no doubt,\" elsewhere exclaimed the indignant logician, \"there is\nan unfortunate multitude on whom all these commonplaces can be palmed\noff without difficulty; but there are also at Lourdes and elsewhere\nsome readers whose common-sense is aroused, and who ask what will\nbecome of history, evident facts, and reason in such a system, with\nsuch a determination to deny everything without examination?\n\n\"As to preventing the episcopal commission from acting, we doubt if\nthere are any laws conferring such a power upon the government; if\nthere are, it will probably wisely abstain from using its power. On\none hand, nothing could be more favorable to superstition than to\ndo so; the popular credulity would then go astray without restraint,\nfor there is no law which can oblige the Bishop to pronounce upon a\nfact about which he has not been able, and has even been forbidden,\nto inform himself.... There is only one course for the enemies of\nsuperstition, that is, to appoint a commission themselves, to make a\ncounter-examination, and publish its result, in case, of course, that\nthe one appointed by the Bishop concludes in favor of the miracle.\nFor if it concludes that the reports are false, or that there is some\nillusion, this will not be needed.\"\n\nThe Catholic press, with a reserve truly admirable in the midst of\nthe excitement of the dispute, refused to decide as to the actual\nmerits of the case. It did not wish to anticipate the verdict of the\nepiscopal commission; but confined itself to refuting calumnies,\nabsurd stories, and sophisms, to defending the historical thesis of\nthe occurrence of supernatural events, and to claiming in the name of\nreason the right of examination and freedom to ascertain the truth.\n\"The event at Lourdes,\" said the _Univers_, \"is not as yet verified,\nnor is its nature determined. It may have been a miracle, it may have\nbeen an illusion. The decision of the Bishop will settle the question.\n\n\"For our own part, we believe that we have answered all that has been\nseriously or even speciously said about the events at Lourdes. We\nshall leave the matter here. It was not right that the press should\nbe allowed to heap around these facts all the lies it could think\nof; but it would not be becoming to give an answer to the abundance\nof its scoffing words. Wise men will appreciate the wisdom and good\nfaith of the church, and as usual, after all the turmoil, truth\nwill secure for itself in the world its little nucleus of adherents,\n'pusillus grex,' which nevertheless is sufficient to maintain its\nascendency in the world.\"[134]\n\nIt is obvious that, in the great polemical question regarding\nmiracles which was being discussed on the occasion of the events at\nLourdes, the two sides were acting on diametrically opposite plans.\n\nOn the one hand, the Catholics appealed to an impartial examination;\non the other, the pseudo-philosophers feared the light. The former\nsaid, \"Let us have an examination;\" the latter cried, \"Let us hear no\nmore of this matter.\" The former had for their watchword liberty of\nconscience; the latter implored C\u00e6sar to put a violent stop to this\nreligious movement, and to stifle it, not by the power of arguments,\nbut by brute force.\n\nEvery impartial mind, placed by its views or circumstances outside of\nthe _m\u00eal\u00e9e_, could not help seeing with the greatest clearness that\njustice, truth, and reason were on the Catholic side. All that was\nnecessary for this was, not to be blinded by the fury of the contest\nor by an immovable prejudice.\n\nAlthough in the person of a commissary, a prefect, and a minister\nthe administration had unfortunately taken a very decided part in\nthis important affair, there still was a man of authority who had\nnot had anything to do with it, and who was in the conditions of\nperfect impartiality, whatever his religious, philosophical, and\npolitical views might be. Whether there had been a manifestation\nof the supernatural or not at Lourdes made no difference in his\ncalculations. Neither his ambition, self-love, doctrines, nor\nantecedents were concerned in this question. What mind is there which\nin such circumstances cannot be fair, and give justice and truth\ntheir rights? People do not violate justice or outrage truth except\nwhen they think it advantageous to do so, under some strong prompting\nof avarice, ambition, or pride.\n\nThe man of whom we speak was called Napoleon III., and was, as it\nhappened, Emperor of the French.\n\nImpassible as usual, silent as the granite sphinxes which watch at\nthe gates of Thebes, he followed the discussion, observing the turns\nof the battle, and waiting for the public conscience to dictate, as\nit were, his decision.\n\n\nIV.\n\nWhile God was thus leaving his work to the disputes of men, he\ndid not cease to grant visible graces to the humble and believing\nsouls which came to the miraculous spring to implore the aid of the\nsovereign power of the Virgin Mother.\n\nA child of the town of St. Justin, in the department of Gers, named\nJean-Marie Tambourn\u00e9, had been for some months entirely disabled in\nhis right leg. The pains in it had been so severe that the limb had\nbeen twisted; and the foot, turned entirely outward in these crises\nof suffering, had come to form a right angle with the other one. His\ngeneral health had rapidly deteriorated under this state of continual\nsuffering, which robbed the poor boy of his sleep as well as of his\nappetite. He was in fact sinking into the grave. His parents, who\nwere tolerably well off, had tried for his cure all the treatments\nwhich had been suggested by the physicians of the neighborhood, but\nwithout success.\n\nThey had also had recourse to the waters of Blousson and to medicated\nbaths. The result had been almost complete failure. Any very slight\nand temporary alleviations which were obtained always resulted in a\ndisastrous relapse.\n\nThe parents had at last lost all confidence in the remedies of\nscience. Tired of medical treatment, they turned their hopes toward\nthe Mother of God, who, it was said, had appeared at the Massabielle\nrocks. On the 23d of September, 1858, the little boy was taken by his\nmother to Lourdes, in the public coach. It was a long distance, more\nthan thirty miles. Having reached the town, the mother hastened to\nthe grotto, carrying her unfortunate child in her arms. She bathed\nhim in the miraculous water, praying with fervor to her who has been\npleased to be called in the Litany \"Health of the Sick.\" The child\nmeanwhile had fallen into a sort of ecstatic state. His eyes were\nwide open, his lips apart. He seemed to be gazing at some strange\nobject.\n\n\"What is the matter?\" said his mother.\n\n\"I see the good God and the Blessed Virgin,\" answered he.\n\nThe poor woman, at these words, felt a great commotion at her heart,\nand the sweat stood out upon her face.\n\nThe child came to himself.\n\n\"Mother,\" said he, \"my trouble is gone. My feet do not ache now. I\ncan walk, I know I can; I am as strong as ever I was.\"\n\nJean-Marie was right; he was indeed cured. He went to the village\nof Lourdes on foot, ate and slept there. At the same time that his\npain and weakness ceased, his appetite and sleep returned. The next\nday his mother bathed him once more at the grotto, and had a mass of\nthanksgiving celebrated in the church at Lourdes. Then they set out\nfor home; not in the coach this time, but on foot.\n\nWhen, after spending one night on the road, they reached St. Justin,\nthe child saw his father, who was on the watch, expecting no doubt\nthat some carriage would bring back the pilgrims. Jean-Marie\nrecognized him far off, and ran to him.\n\nThe father almost fainted. But his darling was already in his arms.\n\"Papa,\" cried he, \"the Blessed Virgin has cured me.\"\n\nThe news of this event spread quickly enough in the town, where\neverybody knew the child. They flocked from all sides to see him.[135]\n\nThe sister of a notary of Tarbes, Jeanne-Marie Massot-Bordenave, had\nbecome, after a long and serious illness, almost entirely crippled\nin her feet and hands. She walked only with extreme difficulty.\nHer hands, habitually swollen, discolored, and aching, were almost\nentirely useless. Her fingers, bent back and stiff, could not be\nstraightened, and were completely paralyzed. Having gone to see her\nbrother at Tarbes, she was returning home to Arras, in the canton\nof Aucun. She was alone in the inside of the diligence. A flask of\nwine which her brother had given her having become uncorked and\noverturned, she could not set it up or cork it, so entirely powerless\nhad her fingers become.\n\nLourdes was upon the road. She stopped there and went to the grotto.\nHardly had she plunged her hands into the miraculous water, when she\nperceived that they were instantly coming back to life. Her fingers\nhad straightened, and suddenly recovered their flexibility and\nstrength. Successful perhaps beyond her expectations, she plunged her\nfeet in the miraculous water, and they were healed like her hands.\nShe fell upon her knees. What did she say to the Blessed Virgin? How\ndid she thank her? Such prayers, such bursts of gratitude may be\nimagined, but not expressed in words.\n\nShe then put on her shoes, and with a confident step returned to the\ntown.\n\nA young girl was walking in the same direction, coming back from the\nwoods with an enormous bundle of fagots on her head. It was warm, and\nthe poor little peasant was bathed in perspiration. Exhausted, she\nsat down upon a stone at the side of the road, laying her too heavy\nburden at her feet. At this moment Jeanne-Marie Massot passed before\nher, returning quickly and joyfully from the fountain of grace. A\ngood thought occurred to her. She went up to the child.\n\n\"My child,\" said she to her, \"our Lord has just granted me a great\nfavor. He has cured me; he has taken away my burden. And in my turn,\nI would like to aid and relieve you.\"\n\nSo saying, Marie Massot took up with her hands restored to life the\nheavy fagots which lay on the ground, put them on her head, and\nthus returned to Lourdes, whence, less than an hour before, she\nhad gone out weak and paralyzed. The first-fruits of her recovered\nstrength had been nobly used; they had been consecrated to charity.\n\"Freely have you received, freely give,\" said our Redeemer to his\ndisciples.[136]\n\nA woman already advanced in age, Marie Capdevielle, of the village\nof Livron, in the neighborhood of Lourdes, had also been cured of a\nsevere deafness which had troubled her for a long time. \"I seem,\"\nsaid she, \"to be in another world when I hear the church-bells, which\nI have not heard before for three years.\"\n\nThese cures, and many others, continue to attest irrefutably the\ndirect intervention of God. He showed his power in restoring\nhealth to the sick, and it was evident that, if he had permitted\npersecution, it was because it was necessary to the conduct of his\ndesigns. It rested with him to put a stop to it, and for that purpose\nto bend and use as it should please him the wills of the great ones\nof the earth.\n\n\nV.\n\nPolemics on the subject of the grotto had become exhausted. In France\nand abroad, public opinion had passed judgment, not indeed on the\nreality of the supernatural events, but on the violent oppression\nto which all liberty of belief and right of examination were being\nsubjected to in a corner of the empire. The miserable sophisms of\nanti-christian fanaticism and of pseudo-philosophic intolerance\nhad not held their ground before the cogent logic of the Catholic\njournals. The _D\u00e9bats_, the _Si\u00e8cle_, the _Presse_, and the common\nherd of irreligious sheets kept silence, probably sorry that they had\nundertaken this unfortunate contest, and made so much noise about\nthese extraordinary facts. They had only succeeded in propagating and\nspreading everywhere the renown of a host of miracles. From Italy,\nGermany, and even more distant lands, people were writing to Lourdes\nfor some of the sacred water.\n\nAt the Bureau of Public Worship, M. Rouland persisted in putting\nhimself in the way of the most holy of liberties, and in endeavoring\nto stop the march of events.\n\nAt the grotto, Jacomet and the guards continued to keep watch day and\nnight, and to bring the faithful up before the courts. Judge Duprat\nkept on sentencing them.\n\nBetween such a minister to back him, and such agents to carry out\nhis will, Baron Massy remained bravely in his desperately illogical\nsituation, and consoled himself with the omnipotence of his arbitrary\nwill. Continually more and more exasperated by seeing the vain\npretexts of religion and public order with which he had at first\nwished to conceal his intolerance slipping through his fingers, he\ngave himself up gladly to the bitter satisfaction of practising pure\ntyranny. He remained deaf to the universal protest. To all reasoning,\nto undeniable evidence, he opposed his own will: \"Such is my\ndetermination.\" It was sweet to him to be stronger single-handed than\nall the multitudes, stronger than the Bishop, stronger than common\nsense, than miracles, than the God who was manifested at the grotto.\n\nIt was at this juncture that two eminent personages, Mgr. de\nSalinis, Archbishop of Auch, and M. de Ress\u00e9guier, formerly of the\ndeputies, called on the Emperor, who was at the time at Biarritz.\nNapoleon III. was receiving at the same time from various quarters\npetitions demanding urgently, in virtue of the most sacred rights,\nthe annulment of the arbitrary and violent measures of Baron Massy.\n\"Sire,\" said one of these petitions, \"we do not pretend to settle\nthe question as to the apparitions of the Blessed Virgin, though\nalmost all the people here, on account of the startling miracles\nwhich they claim to have personally witnessed, believe in the\nreality of these supernatural manifestations. But it is certain and\nindisputable that the fountain which appeared suddenly, and from\nwhich we are excluded, in spite of the scientific analysis which\nasserts its perfect harmlessness, has been hurtful to no one; on the\nother hand, it is undeniable that a great number of persons declare\nthat they have there recovered their health. In the name of the\nrights of conscience, which should be independent of all human power,\npermit the faithful to go and pray there if they choose. In the name\nof humanity, allow the sick to go there for their cure, if they\nentertain such a hope. In the name of free thought, suffer the minds\nwhich need information for their study and examination to go there to\nunmask error or to discover truth.\"\n\nThe Emperor, as we have said above, was disinterested in the\nquestion, or rather it was for his interest not to waste his power\nin fruitlessly opposing the course of events. It was for his\ninterest to listen to the cry of souls asking for the liberty of\ntheir faith, the cry of minds demanding freedom to study and see for\nthemselves. It was for his interest to be just, and not to crush, by\nan arbitrary act and an evident denial of justice, those who believed\nthe evidence of their senses, as well as those who, though not yet\nbelieving, still claimed the right to examine publicly the mysterious\noccurrences which were occupying the attention of France.\n\nIt has been seen what wild romances the honest Minister Rouland had\ngravely accepted as incontestable truths. The information which\nhis benevolent excellency must have given the Emperor could hardly\nhave given the latter much light upon the subject. The newspaper\ndiscussions, although they had triumphantly brought to light the\nright of one party and the unjust intolerance of the other, could not\nhave given him a perfectly clear idea of the situation. At Biarritz\nonly did it appear to him in its fulness and complete details.\n\nNapoleon III. was not a very demonstrative sovereign; his thoughts\nwere seldom plainly indicated by his words; rather by actions. As he\nlearned the absurd and violent proceedings by which the minister,\nthe prefect, and their agents had been bringing authority into\ndisgrace, his dull eye brightened, it is said, with a flash of anger;\nhe shrugged his shoulders nervously, and a cloud of deep displeasure\npassed over his brow. He rang the bell impatiently.\n\n\"Take this to the telegraph office,\" said he.\n\nIt was a brief dispatch to the Prefect of Tarbes, ordering him, in\nthe name of the Emperor, to rescind instantly the decree closing the\ngrotto at Lourdes, and to leave the people free.\n\n\nVI.\n\nWe are familiar with the discoveries of science with regard to the\nwonderful electric spark, which the network of wires covering the\nglobe carries from one end of the earth to the other in an instant.\nThe telegraph, as the _savants_ tell us, is the same thing as the\nthunderbolt. On this occasion, Baron Massy was entirely of their\nopinion. The imperial despatch, falling suddenly upon them, stunned\nand bewildered him, as a sudden stroke of lightning would have done\ncoming down upon his house. He could not believe in its reality.\nThe more he thought of it, the more impossible it seemed for him to\nretrace his steps, to reverse his judgment, or to bear his retreat\npublicly. Nevertheless, he had to swallow this bitter draught, or\nhand in his resignation and put far away from his lips the sweet\nprefectoral cup. Fatal alternative! The heart of a public functionary\nis sometimes torn by fearful anguish.\n\nWhen a sudden catastrophe comes upon us, we have at first some\ndifficulty in accepting it as definitive, and we continue to struggle\nafter all is lost. Baron Massy did not escape this illusion. He\nhoped vaguely that the Emperor would revoke his decision. In this\nhope, he undertook to keep the dispatch secret for some days, and not\nto obey. He wrote to the Emperor, and also secured the intervention\nof Minister Rouland, who was less publicly but as completely affected\nas himself by the unexpected order from Biarritz.\n\nNapoleon III. was as insensible to the protests of the minister as\nto the representations and entreaties of the prefect. The judgment\nwhich he had made had been based upon evidence, and was irrevocable.\nAll these steps had no other result than to show him that the prefect\nhad dared to set aside his orders and to postpone their execution.\nA second despatch left Biarritz. It was couched in terms which\npermitted no comment or delay.\n\nBaron Massy had to choose between his pride and his prefecture. He\nmade the grievous choice, and was humble enough to remain in his\noffice.\n\nThe head of the department resigned himself to obedience.\nNevertheless, in spite of the imperative orders of his master, he\nstill tried, not to resist, which was evidently impossible, but to\nhide his retreat and not surrender publicly.\n\nIn consequence of some official indiscretions, and perhaps also by\nthe account of the gentlemen who had waited on the Emperor, the\npurport of the orders from Biarritz was already vaguely known by\nthe public. It was the topic of general conversation. The prefect\nneither confirmed nor denied the prevailing rumors. He instructed\nJacomet and his agents to draw up no more _proc\u00e8s-verbaux_, and to\ndiscontinue the watch. Such a course, coming in connection with the\ncurrent reports as to the instructions of the Emperor, ought to\nhave sufficed (at least such was his hope) to put things in their\nnormal state, and make the prohibitory decree a dead letter. It was\neven probable that the people, restored to liberty, would hasten\nthemselves to root up and throw into the Gave the posts bearing the\ncaution against entering upon the common land and within the barriers\nwhich enclosed the grotto.\n\nM. Massy was, however, mistaken in his calculations, plausible as\nthey may have been. In spite of the absence of the police, in spite\nof the reports which were circulating without official contradiction,\nthe people feared some snare. They continued to pray on the wrong\nside of the Gave. The trespasses were as before, generally speaking,\nfew and far between. No one touched the posts or the barriers. The\n_status quo_, instead of disappearing of its own accord, as the\nprefect had hoped, obstinately remained.\n\nConsidering the character of Napoleon III., and the clearness of the\norders from Biarritz, the situation was dangerous for the prefect,\nand Baron Massy was too intelligent not to perceive it. Every moment\nit was to be feared that the Emperor would hear of the way in which\nhe was trying to beat around the bush. He may well have dreaded\ncontinually that some terrible message would arrive setting him aside\nfor ever, and turning him out in the cold, out from the luminous\nrealms of functionarism into the exterior darkness in which the\nmiserable unofficial world is involved.\n\nThe end of September had come.\n\nIt happened that, during these perplexities, M. Fould had occasion\nto make another visit to Tarbes, and even to go to Lourdes. Did he\nincrease the alarm of the prefect by speaking of the sovereign, or\ndid the Baron receive some new telegram more crushing than the\nothers? We do not know. But it is certain that, on the 3d of October,\nM. Massy, as if struck down by some unseen hand, became pliable as a\nbroken reed, and that his arrogant stiffness was suddenly changed to\na complete prostration.\n\nThe next day he issued, in the name of the Emperor, an order to the\nmayor of Lourdes to repeal the decree publicly, and to have Jacomet\nremove the posts and barriers.\n\n\nVII.\n\nM. Lacad\u00e9 did not hesitate like M. Massy. This issue freed him at\nonce from the heavy burden which the mingled desire of pleasing both\nthe prefect and the people, both the heavenly and earthly powers, had\nimposed upon him. By an illusion very common with undecided people,\nhe imagined that he had always been on the side which now prevailed,\nand in this spirit he drew up a proclamation to the following effect:\n\"Citizens of Lourdes, the day which we have so earnestly desired has\nat last come; we have earned it by our wisdom, perseverance, faith,\nand courage.\" Such was the sense and style of his proclamation, the\ntext of which is unfortunately not extant.[137]\n\nThe proclamation was read through the town, with an accompaniment of\ndrums and trumpets. At the same time the following notice was posted\non the walls:\n\n                    The Mayor of Lourdes,\n          Acting upon instructions addressed to him,\n\n                     ORDERS AS FOLLOWS:\n\n    The order issued on the 8th of June, 1858, is revoked.\n\n    Done at Lourdes, at the Mayor's Office, Oct. 5, 1858.\n\n                                       The Mayor, A. LACAD\u00c9.\n\nAt the same time, Jacomet and the sergents-de-ville repaired to the\ngrotto to take away the barriers and posts.\n\nA crowd had already collected there, and was increasing every\nmoment. Some were praying on their knees, and, endeavoring not to be\ndistracted by the hubbub around, were thanking God for having put a\nstop to the scandal and the persecutions. Others were standing up\ntalking in a low voice, and awaiting with emotion what was about to\ntake place. Many of the women were saying their beads. Some held\nbottles in their hands, which they wished to fill at the source of\nthe fountain. Some were throwing flowers over the barriers into\nthe interior of the grotto. But no one touched the barriers. It\nwas necessary that those who had publicly placed them there in\nopposition to the power of God should come and remove them publicly\nin submission to the will of a man.\n\nJacomet arrived. Although, in spite of himself, he showed some\nembarrassment, and though from the paleness of his face his profound\nhumiliation might have been suspected, still he had not, contrary\nto the general expectation, the dejected appearance of one who had\nbeen conquered. Escorted by his subordinates with their hatchets and\npickaxes, he came forward with a bold face. With a seemingly strange\naffectation, he wore his full-dress costume. His large tricolor scarf\nwas wrapped around him and rested upon his parade sword. A vague\ntumult, a dull murmur, with some distinct cries here and there,\nwas heard from the crowd. The commissary took up his position upon\na rock, and signed to the people that he wished to speak. Every\none listened. His words are said to have been to this effect: \"My\nfriends, these barriers which the municipality, to my great regret,\nhas ordered to put up, are about to be removed. Who has suffered\nmore than I from this obstacle raised against your piety? I also am\na Christian, my friends; I share your faith. But the official, like\nthe soldier, has only one duty; it is the duty, often a very painful\none, of obedience. The responsibility does not rest upon him. Well,\nmy friends, when I saw your admirable patience, your respect for\nauthority, your persevering faith, I informed the higher authorities.\nI pleaded your cause. I said, 'Why prevent them from praying at the\ngrotto, from drinking at the fountain? They will do no harm.' And\nthus, my friends, the prohibition has been removed, and the prefect\nand I have resolved to take down these barriers for ever, which were\nso displeasing to you and much more so to me.\"\n\nThe crowd maintained a cold silence. Some of the young people\nchuckled and laughed. Jacomet was evidently troubled by his want of\nsuccess. He gave orders to his men to take away the fence, which was\ndone without delay. The boards were piled up near the grotto, and the\npolice came at nightfall to take them away.\n\nThere was great rejoicing at Lourdes. All the afternoon crowds were\ngoing and coming on the road to the grotto. Before the Massabielle\nrocks immense numbers of the faithful were kneeling. Canticles and\nlitanies were sung: \"Virgo potens, ora pro nobis.\" The people drank\nof the fountain. Faith was free. God had triumphed.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[131] _Presse_, Aug. 31, 1858.\n\n[132] _Si\u00e8cle_, Aug. 30, 1858.\n\n[133] _Amsterdaamsche Courant_, Sept. 9, 1858.\n\n[134] The above extracts are from the _Univers_, on various dates in\nAugust and September, 1858.\n\n[135] Twenty-eighth _proc\u00e8s-verbal_ of the episcopal commission.\n\nThe following is the report of one of the physicians appointed to\nexamine this cure:\n\n\"The boy Tambourn\u00e9, at five years of age, showed the symptoms of hip\ndisease in the first stage; very sharp pains in the knee, duller at\nthe hip, a turning out of the foot, lameness at first, afterwards\ninability to walk without great suffering. The digestive functions\nbecame impaired. He had a repugnance to food, and became very much\nreduced. The disease, going through its first period very rapidly,\nwas threatening sooner or later to put an end to the child's life,\nwhen the idea was formed of taking him to the grotto of Lourdes,\nwhere his cure was effected instantly.\n\n\"The complaint of young Tambourn\u00e9 was of the same class as that of\nBusquet, but it was more severe, having affected one of the principal\njoints. Its indications were already most distressing to the eyes of\nthe physician who is able to see what the future has in store.\n\n\"It is, no doubt, possible to cure hip-disease, by the means and\nprocesses employed by science. Natural sulphurous waters can remove\nit; but in no case is it possible for them to operate with the\nrapidity of lightning.\n\n\"Instantaneousness of action is so much beyond the healing power\nby means of which such waters operate, that it may be asserted\nthat there is a fact in the supernatural order in all the cases of\nimmediate cure in which a material lesion has been involved. It\nhardly needs to be stated that young Tambourn\u00e9 came to the grotto\ncarried by his mother, and that a few moments afterwards he climbed\na steep slope, walked and ran the rest of the day, without feeling\nthe least pain, and with as much ease as before the coming on of the\ndisease, etc.\"\n\n[136] We give in this note the report of the physicians entrusted\nwith the examination of this case by the episcopal commission. It is\nremarkable for its circumspection. It does not dare to pronounce in\nfavor of a miracle; but such a reserve in so striking a case gives to\nthe reports in which miraculous power is recognized an authority yet\nmore incontestable and conclusive.\n\n\"Mlle. Massot-Bordenave, of Arras, aged fifty-three, was afflicted\nin the month of May, 1858, with a malady which deprived her feet and\nhands of part of their power and mobility. Her fingers were much\nbent.... Her bread had to be cut for her. She went on foot to the\ngrotto, bathed her hands and feet, and went away cured.\n\n\"It cannot be denied that all the _prima facie_ indications in this\ncase are in favor of the intervention of some supernatural cause;\nbut examining it with attention, we shall see that this view is\nopposed by several well-founded objections. Thus, the beginning\nof the trouble was hardly four months before; its character was\nnot alarming, being a weakness of convalescence, a diminution of\nenergy in the extensor and flexor muscles of the fingers and toes.\nLet the nervous power flow into these muscles, under the influence\nof a strong moral stimulus, and they would resume their functions\nimmediately. Now, may we not admit in this case that the imagination\nmay have become exalted by the religious sentiment, and by the hope\nof becoming the recipient of a favor from heaven?\"\n\n[137] A great part of the papers relating to the grotto of Lourdes\nwere kept by the Lacad\u00e9 family instead of being left in the archives\nof the mayoralty. We endeavored in vain to get at these precious\ndocuments. The Lacad\u00e9 family say that they have been burned.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nMR. FROUDE AND CALVINISM.\n\n\nThe Robert-Houdin of modern English writers, and author of that\npopular serial novel grimly entitled _The History of England_,\nappears to be only at home in an element of paradox, and in the\nclever accomplishment of some literary _tour de force_. _Calvinism:_\nAn Address delivered at St. Andrews, March 17, 1871, by James Anthony\nFroude, M.A.,[138] is his latest performance.\n\nAlways liberal in his assumption of premises, no one need be\nsurprised that the author should claim Calvinism to have been\n\"accepted for two centuries in all Protestant countries as the final\naccount of the relations between man and his Maker,\" and should\nrepresent that \"the Catholics whom it overthrew\" assail it, etc.\nIt will be news to most Protestants, Lutherans and Anglicans in\nparticular, that Calvinism was thus accepted, and the 'overthrown\nCatholics' will be not less surprised. Throughout the address, Mr.\nFroude industriously insists upon the false idea that Luther was a\nCalvinist. The statement refutes itself in its terms. No argument\nis needed to show that Luther's free-will doctrine and Calvin's\npredestination were simply irreconcilable. It was not skilful in\nMr. Froude to smother in its very birth his labored vindication of\nCalvinistic doctrine by such a presentation as this (p. 4):\n\n    \"It has come to be regarded by liberal thinkers as a\n    system of belief incredible in itself, dishonoring\n    to its object, and as intolerable as it has been\n    itself intolerant. To represent man as sent into the\n    world under a curse, as incurably wicked--wicked by\n    the constitution of his flesh, and wicked by eternal\n    decree--as doomed, unless exempted by special grace\n    which he cannot merit or by any effort of his own\n    obtain, to live in sin while he remains on earth,\n    and to be eternally miserable when he leaves it--to\n    represent him as born unable to keep the commandments,\n    yet as justly liable to everlasting punishment for\n    breaking them, is alike repugnant to reason and\n    to conscience, and turns existence into a hideous\n    nightmare. To tell men that they cannot help themselves\n    is to fling them into recklessness and despair. To\n    what purpose the effort to be virtuous, when it is an\n    effort which is foredoomed to fail--when those that are\n    saved are saved by no effort of their own, and confess\n    themselves the worst of sinners, even when rescued from\n    the penalties of sin; and those that are lost are lost\n    by an everlasting sentence decreed against them before\n    they were born? How are we to call the Ruler who laid\n    us under this iron code by the name of Wise, or Just,\n    or Merciful, when we ascribe principles of action to\n    him which in a human father we should call preposterous\n    and monstrous?\"\n\nAs types of Calvinism and almost perfect human beings, as men\nof grandeur and nobility of character, upright life, commanding\nintellect, untainted selfishness, unalterably just, frank, true,\ncheerful, humorous, and as unlike sour fanatics as it is possible\nto imagine any one, Mr. Froude names William the Silent, Luther,\nJohn Knox, Andrew Melville, the Regent Murray, Coligny, Cromwell,\nMilton, and John Bunyan. The Calvinism of all the members of this\nremarkably assorted group is at least open to serious question. As\nto their supereminent goodness and almost angelic purity, it would\nbe an easy but not a pleasant task to point out the refutation in\ntheir fatal shortcomings. It may be that Cromwell had \"the tenderness\nof a woman\" in his heart, but no testimony to support that assertion\ncould possibly be procured in Ireland. It may be that Knox was not a\nsour fanatic, that William was all unselfishness, that Coligny was\nblameless, and that Milton's wife was mistaken in her estimate of her\nhusband.\n\nAs to the Regent Murray, who was told to his face by John Knox that\nhis religion was \"for his own commoditie,\" and whom Aytoun[139] has\nincarcerated in the immortal amber of his verse as \"the falsest\nvillain ever Scotland bred\"--\n\n      \"False to his faith, a wedded priest:\n        Still falser to the Crown;\n      False to the blood, that in his veins\n        Made bastardy renown;\n      False to his sister, whom he swore\n        To guard and shield from harm;\n      The head of many a felon plot,\n        But never once the arm!\n      A verier knave ne'er stepped the earth\n        Since this wide world began;\n      And yet--he bandies texts with Knox,\n        And walks a pious man!\"--\n\nwe are perfectly satisfied that Robespierre is an accomplished\nChristian gentleman beside him, for Robespierre at least never stole\nhis sister's jewels nor took bribes from his country's enemies.\n\nThen we are treated by the author to a promenade down the path of\nages, amid the wrecks of empires and of systems, and to rhetorically\nembroidered sketches, with mention more or less extended of Olympus,\nValhalla, Egyptian idolatry, Buddhism, in which \"Zoroaster, like\nMoses, saw behind the physical forces into the deeper laws of right\nand wrong,\" Greek theology, the Stoics, \"the Galilean fishermen\nand the tentmaker of Tarsus,\" and--Islamism. Of all these, the\nlast most decidedly brings out Mr. Froude's warmest enthusiasm, and\nwe find ourselves querying if it is Mohammed's fatalism he so much\nadmires, for the monotheism of the prophet could hardly be called\nCalvinistic, thus making the burning of Servetus a gratuitous waste\nof cord-wood. Here we feel bound in justice to say that, although\nthe men of Galilee and of Tarsus do not appear to excite any very\nstrong admiration in our author, he nevertheless makes the handsome\nconcession that he is not \"upholding Mohammed as if he had been a\nperfect man, or the Koran as a second Bible,\" and that \"the detailed\nconception of man's duties was inferior, far inferior, to what St.\nMartin and St. Patrick, St. Columba and St. Augustine, were teaching\nor had taught in Western Europe.\"\n\nThe early Christian church being essentially Catholic, it\ndoes not draw very heavily on either Mr. Froude's enthusiasm\nor his admiration, and, in speaking of \"the mystery called\ntransubstantiation\" in the twelfth century, he makes an attempt to\nsum up Catholicity in a vein partaking of the brutality with which,\nin his _History of England_, he has the cool insolence to speak of\nthe Catholic religion--the religion of Copernicus, Sir Thomas More,\nF\u00e9nelon, and Dr. Newman--as \"a Paphian idolatry.\"\n\nThe Reformation is, of course, introduced with flourish of trumpets.\nBut the Reformation was essentially Lutheran, and not Calvinistic.\nLuther himself, who was, so Mr. Froude assures us, \"one of the\ngrandest men that ever lived on earth,\" than whom \"none more loyal\nto the light that was in him--braver, truer, or wider-minded,\nin the noblest sense of the word\"--this Luther, we say, was as\nsincere a believer as Saint Augustine in the real presence--in\ntransubstantiation, as Mr. Froude has it--a doctrine which, on all\noccasions and as far as in him lies, our English writer seeks to drag\nin the mud. And yet this Luther, so believing, was, Mr. Froude seeks\nto persuade us, a Calvinist.\n\nCalvinism, in practice, was a lovely thing, and Mr. Froude proves\nthat it was by--John Knox, whom he thus cites: \"Elsewhere,\" says\nKnox, speaking of Geneva, \"the word of God is taught as purely; but\nnever anywhere have I seen God obeyed as faithfully.\"\n\nMr. Froude is, moreover, surprised that Calvinism should have\nbeen called intolerant,[140] and sums up its vindication thus:\n\"Intolerance of an enemy who is trying to kill you seems to me a\npardonable state of mind.\"\n\nIn the face of this citation, it is almost unnecessary to state that\nthe name of Servetus does not once occur in the forty-seven pages of\nthe _Address_, nor is the slightest allusion made to him. And if the\ncurious reader, unacquainted with the practical working of Calvinism\nin Geneva, where God was \"obeyed so faithfully,\" should inquire how\nit was that this perfect Christian man, Calvin, wrote his laws in\nblood and enforced them with the aid of executioners and torturers;\nhow it was that he persecuted some men and, under color of law,\nassassinated others, he may be referred to these witnesses: _First_.\nJerome Bolsec, exiled for proposing \"an opinion false and contrary\nto the evangelical religion.\" _Second._ Peter Arneaux, who, for\nsaying that Calvin was \"a wicked man announcing false doctrine,\" was\ncondemned to walk the streets of Geneva in his shirt, a lighted torch\nin his hand, bare-headed and bare-footed. _Third._ Henri de la Marc,\nexiled for saying that Peter Arneaux was a worthy man, and that,\nif Calvin had a spite against any one, he gratified it. _Fourth._\nJacques Gruet, who was beheaded and his head afterward nailed to a\npost, for the crime of being the author of placards accusing the\nCalvinists of persecution, and for proofs of impiety found in his\nprivate writings when his house was searched. _Finally._ Servetus,\nwho, for being \"a sower of heresies,\" was, by Calvin's authority,\nimprisoned, left there for two months to suffer by hunger and\nnakedness, and then brought out and, at the age of forty-four years,\nburned alive.\n\nWe cannot be certain that Mr. Froude has ever heard of any of these\nProtestants martyred for their opinions. If he has heard of them, we\npresume he means to vindicate Calvin, and to cover their cases by the\ncrushing statement at page 43: \"It is no easy matter to tolerate lies\nclearly convicted of being lies under any circumstances; specially\nit is not easy to tolerate lies which strut about in the name of\nreligion.\"\n\nThe passage is characteristic of Mr. Froude's capacity for ambiguity\nand indirection, but he neglects to indicate the tribunal of truth\nat which these lies are \"clearly convicted.\" It is a serious matter\nfor a gentleman of no particular religious principle to say that this\nor the other theological conviction is a lie which struts about in\nthe name of religion; for, in the eye of the theologically convicted,\nthe most offensively disgusting of all struts is the strut of \"no\nreligion to speak of.\" Moreover, the author had better have left\nunpublished the last member of the sentence we have quoted, because,\nin his case, it irresistibly suggests this other phrase: \"It is not\neasy to tolerate novels which strut about in the name of history.\"\n\nThus we know, as matter of record, that Norman Leslie proposed to\nHenry VIII. the assassination of Cardinal Beaton for a sum of money,\nthat the negotiation, at first delayed, was finally closed and\ncarried out. Leslie got his money, and the cardinal was murdered,\nbecause, as Mr. Froude touchingly relates it, Henry's position\n\"obliged him to look at facts as they were rather than through\nconventional forms.\"\n\nMr. Froude presents the hired bravo of Henry VIII. thus: \"Norman\nLeslie did not kill Cardinal Beaton down in the castle yonder because\nhe was a Catholic, but because he was a murderer.\"\n\nMr. Froude does not appear by his writings to have an unvarying\nstandard of morality. Apparently incapable of judging actions as they\nare, he measures them by his personal like or dislike of the actors.\nAlways the advocate, never the philosophical historian, he presents\nbut one side of a case. Certain personages in history are with him\nalways right, certain others are always wrong. Even the crimes of\nthe former are meritorious, or, at worse, indifferent, while the\nindifferent sayings and doings of the latter are sins of deepest die.\nWe may see this tendency exemplified in the address before us which\nseeks to make Calvinism lovely.\n\nThe author says, in plain terms, that it was not more criminal in\na Calvinist to burn a witch than for any other person to invite a\nspirit-rapper to dinner.\n\nOf course he expresses the opinion euphuistically and in mellifluous\nphrase, but, nevertheless, he does express it. And that our readers\nmay fully understand that we do not even unintentionally misrepresent\nhim, we give his words. At page 43, we read:\n\n    \"In burning witches, the Calvinists followed their\n    model too exactly; but it is to be remembered that they\n    really believed those poor creatures to have made a\n    compact with Satan. And, as regards morality, it may\n    be doubted whether inviting spirit-rappers to dinner,\n    and allowing them to pretend to consult our dead\n    relations, is very much more innocent. The first method\n    is but excess of indignation with evil; the second is\n    complacent toying with it.\"\n\nIt is worth while to notice how deftly Mr. Froude handles his\npositive and comparative.\n\nFor Calvinists to burn people alive is _innocent_, and intercourse\nwith spirit-rappers is _not very much more innocent_.\n\nWith such juggling as this of facts and phrases, the author of\nCalvinism has written his _History of England_, the delight of\ncirculating library subscribers because it is \"as interesting as a\nnovel.\"\n\nAnd so it is, for the best of reasons.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[138] New York: Charles Scribner & Co.\n\n[139] Author of _Lays of the Scottish Cavaliers_.\n\n[140] Mr. Froude's memory is not always good. In his _History of\nEngland_, vol. ix., p. 307, he tells us: \"The guidance of the great\nmovement was snatched from the control of reason to be made over to\nCalvinism; and Calvinism, could it have had the world under its feet,\nwould have been as merciless as the Inquisition itself. The Huguenots\nand the Puritans, the Bible in one hand, the sword in the other,\nwere ready to make war with steel and fire against all which Europe\nfor ten centuries had held sacred. Fury encountered fury, fanaticism\nfanaticism; _and wherever Calvin's spirit penetrated, the Christian\nworld was divided into two armies, who abhorred each other with a\nbitterness exceeding the utmost malignity of mere human nature_.\"\n\n\n\n\nLOVE FOR ANIMALS.\n\n\n      \"He prayeth well who loveth well\n        Both man, and bird and beast;\n      He prayeth best who loveth best\n        All things both great and small;\n      For the dear God who loveth us,\n        He made and loveth all.\"\n\nIn reading the lives of the saints, I have been particularly struck\nwith their love for, and their power over, the animal world. They\nseemed to live nearer the heart of nature than other mortals, and\nperceived there diviner harmonies. Perhaps this sympathetic relation\nsprang from the belief that, as the whole natural, world participated\nin the fall of man, so it has its part in the fruit of our Saviour's\nPassion. At least, they believed that animals, in common with man,\nreceived life from God and exist through him. \"All creatures,\" says\nDenis the Carthusian, \"partake of the divine, eternal, and uncreated\nbeauty.\" The saints respected in animals that divine wisdom which\nAlbertus Magnus tells us, in his book on animals, is to be recognized\nin their instinct. Dr. Newman says: \"Men of narrow reasoning may\nsmile at the supposition that the woods and wild animals can fall\ninto the scheme of theology and preach to the heart the all-pervading\nprinciples of religion; but they forget that God's works have a unity\nof design throughout, and that the author of nature and of revealed\nreligion is one.\"\n\nDr. Faber saw throughout creation a threefold manifestation of God,\ntypifying his being, the generation of the Son, and the procession of\nthe Spirit.\n\nSanctity seems to restore man to his primeval relation to nature, and\ngive him back the power he possessed in Eden over the animal world.\nThe Holy Scriptures tell us of beasts and birds sent to minister\nto the wants of man, and how the very lions reverenced the prophet\nDaniel. Animals were submissive to man before his fall, and they\nwent obediently into the ark at the command of Noah. Such things\nare renewed and repeated in the lives of the Christian saints. It\nis not more wonderful that a raven should bring St. Paul the Hermit\nhalf a loaf every day for sixty years, and a whole one when visited\nby St. Anthony, than that one should feed the prophet. St. Gregory\nof Nazianzen relates that St. Basil's grandmother, St. Macrina,\nhaving taken refuge with her husband in the forests of Pontus during\na persecution, was miraculously fed by stags. St. Bega, when a\nhermitess in a cave on the Cumberland coast, lived in supernatural\nfamiliarity with the sea-birds and the wolves of Copeland forest, and\nthey in part supplied her with food. St. Roch is usually represented\nwith the dog that used to accompany him in his pilgrimages. When St.\nRoch had the plague, the dog went daily into the city and returned\nwith a loaf of bread for his master.\n\nAmong the old legends that embody the popular idea of the veneration\nof the animal world for holiness, is that of the Flight into Egypt.\nIt is said the lions and leopards crept out of their lairs to lick\nthe baby hands of the infant Jesus. When Christians, in the times\nof persecution under the Roman emperors, were thrown to the wild\nbeasts in the amphitheatre, there are many examples of these usually\nferocious animals refusing to touch the holy victims, as in the\nwell-known instances of Andronicus and Tarchus.\n\nSt. Blaise is depicted surrounded by a variety of animals, such\nas the lion and the lamb, the leopard and the hind, who seem to\nhave laid aside their animosity. This saint was obliged, in the\npersecution of the reign of Diocletian, to take refuge in a cave of\nthe mountains. It was the haunt of wild beasts, whose ferocity he so\ndisarmed that they came every morning, as if to ask his blessing,\nsays the old legend. One day, he met an old woman in distress for the\nloss of her only earthly possession, a pig, which had been carried\noff by a wolf. Such power had St. Blaise over the animal world, that\nwhen he ordered the wolf to bring back the pig he obeyed.\n\nSome time after, the woman killed her pig and took a part of it to\nSt. Blaise, who had been thrown into prison and left without any\nfood, thereby preventing him from starving.\n\nSt. Jerome is represented, in Christian art, with the lion he healed,\nand which remained with him. The legend tells us the saint made the\nlion guard the ass that brought his fagots from the forest. One day,\nthe lion went to sleep in the woods, and the ass was stolen. The lion\nreturned home with drooping head, as if ashamed. St. Jerome made him\nbring the fagots in place of the ass, which he did till he discovered\nhis old friend in a caravan of merchants, whom he so terrified that\nthey confessed their sin to St. Jerome and restored the ass.\n\nThere is a very similar legend of the Abbot Gerasimus, who lived near\nthe river Jordan.\n\nWe are told, in the lives of the fathers of the desert, of one of\nthem who was carrying provisions across the desert to his brethren.\nWearied with his burden and the long journey, he called to a wild\nass he espied to come and aid him, for the love of Christ. The ass\nhastened to his assistance, and bore the father and his load to the\ncells of his brethren.\n\nSt. Aphraates dispersed the army of locusts that threatened the\ncountry around Antioch.\n\nSt. Martin commanded the serpents, and they obeyed him.\n\nAnd we read how the wolf-hounds, hungry and fierce, that were kept\nfor the chase, respected St. Walburga when she went, late at night,\nto visit the dying daughter of a neighboring baron.\n\nIt would almost seem as if these animals recognized, as an able\nwriter says, the presence of Him who lulled the tempest with a word\nin the souls in whom he dwells.\n\nTradition records the fondness of one of the twelve apostles--the\nloved apostle John--for animals. Every one has heard of the tame\npartridge he took pleasure in feeding. He was seen tending his bird\nby a passing hunter, who expressed his surprise to see the apostle,\nso renowned for his age and sanctity, thus employing his time. St.\nJohn asked him if he always kept his bow bent. \"That would soon\nrender it useless,\" said the hunter. \"So do I unbend my mind in this\nway for the same reason you unbend your bow--to prevent its becoming\nuseless.\" Perhaps he derived his love for animals from his ancestress\nRebecca, who showed the kindness of her nature in offering to water\nthe camels of the stranger. Eliezer saw it, and began wooing her for\nhis master's son.\n\nThere are numerous instances in which animals instinctively betook\nthemselves to the saints for protection. A hind, pursued by dogs,\ntook refuge with St. Giles in his cave near the mouth of the\nRhone. The hunters, following on his track, found the wounded beast\ncrouching beside the saint, who protected him. The hind remained\nwith St. Giles, who fed on his milk. This saint is represented in\npaintings with the animal beside him. \"Ane hind set up beside Sanct\nGeill,\" says Sir David Lindsay.\n\nThere is a similar legend about St. Procopius, a hermit, with whom a\nhunted hind took refuge.\n\nAs St. Anselm was riding to the Manor of Herse, a hare, pursued by\nhunters, sought shelter under the housings of his mule. St. Anselm\nwept, but the foresters laughed, and the hounds stood around at bay.\nThe saint said: \"This poor hare reminds me of the soul of a sinner\nbeset by fiends eager to seize their prey.\" He ordered the hunters\nnot to pursue the hare, which fled.\n\nSo a deer took refuge from hunters in the cell of St. Aventin, a\nhermit who lived on an island in the Seine. One night a bear attacked\nhis hut with furious cries. The saint betook himself to prayer, and\nat dawn found the animal, subdued and gentle, lying at his door\nlicking his paw. The saint saw it was pierced by a thorn, and drew it\nout, when the beast went quietly away into the forest. When a person,\nwho lived for a time with St. Aventin, caught some fish, the saint\nthrew them back into the river, saying: \"Go, little creatures, return\nto your element and food and remain there at liberty: my element and\nfood are Jesus Christ, to whom I wish to return, that in him I may\nlive for ever.\"\n\nSt. Bartholomew, a hermit of Farne, was so gentle in his movements\nthat the wild sea-birds were not afraid of him. He allowed no one\nto molest them. He tamed an eider-duck, which daily fed out of his\nhand. One day, as St. Bartholomew was sitting on the sea-shore, a\ncormorant pulled the edge of his garment with its bill. He followed\nthe bird, and found its young had fallen into a fissure in the rocks.\nHe rescued them from danger.\n\nSt. Helier, a hermit in the isle of Jersey, lived for years on a\nbarren crag overlooking the sea. Attention was called to the place of\nhis retreat by the flight of the birds who shared the rock with him,\nand he was beheaded by his pagan discoverers.\n\nThe marine animals would fawn on St. Cuthbert while he was praying\nby night on the island of Farne. The eider-ducks are called by the\nislanders to this day \"St. Cuthbert's ducks.\"\n\nSo the nuns of Whitby \"exulting told\"\n\n            \"How sea-fowls' pinions fail,\n      As over Whitby's towers they sail,\n      And sinking down, with flutterings faint,\n      They do their homage to the saint.\"\n\nSt. Serf, an old Scottish monk, had a pet ram which he had raised and\nused to follow him about. The laird of Tillicoultry stole the animal\nand \"ate him up in pieces small.\" Being accused of the theft, the\nlaird declared on oath that he had neither stolen nor eaten the ram.\nWhereupon, so runs the old legend, the ram \"bleated in his wayme\"!\nThe saint predicted that no heir born to the estate of Tillicoultry\nshould succeed to his patrimony, which prediction has been verified\ndown to our own time. During the last two centuries Tillicoultry\nhas been in the possession of thirteen different families, and in\nno case has the heir born to it become the owner. Lord Colville,\na distinguished soldier of the time of James VI., retired to his\nestate of Tillicoultry to spend the rest of his life in retirement.\nWalking on the terrace one day, he slipped while looking up at an\nold hawthorn tree, and fell down the bank and was instantly killed.\nThe estate was afterwards sold to the Earl of Stirling, at whose\ndeath it was sold to Sir Alexander Rollo, and so it has passed from\none family to another down to our time. In 1837, it was bought by\nMr. Stirling, who was accidentally killed. His brother, not the born\nheir, succeeded him, but sold it in 1842 to Mr. Anstruther, who in\nturn sold it to his brother, the present proprietor.\n\nSt. Richard, Bishop of Winchester, through excessive tenderness for\nthe animal world, hardly ever ate any meat. When he saw any lamb\nor chicken on his table, he used to say: \"We are the cause of your\ndeath, ye innocent ones. What have ye done worthy of death?\" He\nthought as Frederick Schlegel, who remarks: \"The sorrows of beasts\nare certainly a theme for the meditations of men, and I could not\nagree to the justice of regarding it as a subject unworthy of\nreflection, or of permitting sympathy with them to be banished from\nthe human breast.\" St. Richard's love extended to the whole natural\nworld. In the time of his troubles he used to retire to the parsonage\nof a country curate, not far from Winchester, to find solace in\ncommunion with nature. His friend loved to look at him walking in the\ngarden watching the unfolding of the flower-buds or amusing himself\nby budding and grafting, forgetful of the wrath of the king and the\nnumber of his enemies. A graft which the owner regarded with great\npride having died, Richard regrafted it. It lived and bore fruit.\n\nMany stories are told of the love of St. Waltheof, Abbot of Melrose,\nfor animals, and, in particular, of his affection for the old gray\nhorse which he constantly rode, and used playfully to call Brother\nGrizzle (_Frater Ferrandus_). He was even known to discipline\nhimself for having killed an insect, saying he had taken away the\nlife of one of God's creatures which he could not restore. His gray\nhorse was well known in the valley of the Tweed. The humble abbot\nrode him, with his own luggage and that of his few attendants slung\non before him, including the boots of his groom. He appeared before\nhis kinsman, the King of Scotland, in this array. Waltheof's brother\nwas ashamed of him, but the king was so edified that he knelt to ask\nthe abbot's blessing, and granted him all his petitions, saying:\n\"This man hath put all worldly things under his feet, but we are\nrunning after this fleeting world, losing soul and body in the\npursuit.\"\n\nSophronius, writing in a more remote age, says: \"Going to New\nAlexandria, we found Abbot John, who had spent eighty years in that\nmonastery, so full of charity that he was pitiful also to brute\nanimals. Early in the morning he used to give food to all the dogs\nthat were in the monastery, and would even bring grain to the ants\nand the birds on the roof.\"\n\nAnd, at a later day again, at Citeaux a great number of storks built\ntheir nests around the abbey, and, on going away for the winter,\nwould hover over the monks working in the fields, as if to ask their\nblessing, which was given them.\n\nWe are told in the annals of Corby that the novices had an otter\nwhich they kept for a long time in the refectory. And the success of\nFriar Baddo in training a dog is spoken of.\n\nThere was a peculiar breed of black dogs in the Abbey of St. Hubert\nin the Ardennes, called the dogs of St. Hubert.\n\nThe birds of Croyland would feed from the hands of St. Guthlac, the\nhermit, and alight on his head and shoulders, and the fish would\ncome up out of the water for the food he gave them.\n\nSo a white swan was for fifteen years in the habit of coming up from\nthe marshes and flying around St. Hugh of Lincoln, and then alighting\nto eat from his hand, sometimes thrusting its bill into his bosom.\nThis swan survived the saint many years, but, after his death,\nreturned to its old wild habits, avoiding all human beings.\n\nSt. Columba used to feed the sea-beaten herons that alighted on the\nisland of Iona.\n\nThe sparrows would descend and eat out of St. Remi's hand.\n\nAnd the birds would hover around the hermits of Montserrat and eat\nfrom their hands.\n\nHugo of St. Victor shows his familiarity with the habits of animals\nby his allusions to them in his instructions.\n\nDigby relates that in 1507 there was a lamb in the convent of Muri\nthat used to go to the choir at the sound of the bell and remain\nduring the chanting of the divine office. When the matin bell rang,\nit would run around the corridors and knock its head against the door\nof each cell till it had roused the inmate, and, on going to the\nchoir, if it saw one vacant stall, it would return to the dormitory\nand bleat for the missing one.\n\nSt. Philip Neri could not bear to witness the slightest cruelty to\nanimals, and would caution the coachman not to run over one. And even\nwild animals would respond to his tenderness by their familiarity\nwith him, and dogs would leave their masters to follow him. Seeing\none of his congregation tread on a lizard as he was passing through\nthe court, St. Philip said to him: \"Cruel fellow, what has that poor\nlittle animal done to you?\" He was greatly agitated at seeing a\nbutcher wound a dog with his knife. A boy having brought him a bird,\nSt. Philip through pity ordered it to be let out at the window.\nShortly after, he expressed regret for having given the bird its\nfreedom, for fear it might die of hunger. Louis, one of his young\npenitents, had two little birds which he gave St. Philip. He accepted\nthem on condition the giver would come every day to see after them,\nwishing to exert a good influence over the youth. One day Louis came\nand found the saint ill in bed, and one of the birds perched on his\nface. It then fluttered around his head, singing very sweetly. St.\nPhilip asked Louis if he had accustomed the bird to do so. Louis\nreplied in the negative. St. Philip tried in vain to drive the bird\naway, and finally had the cage brought, when it went in as if through\nobedience.\n\nFather Pietro Consolini, of the Oratory, tells a curious story of\na good brother who worked in the kitchen. In order to satisfy his\ndevotion for the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, he would put a cat upon\nthe kitchen table, and order it to keep watch while he was absent.\nThen he would go off to church with a peculiar confidence in God. The\ncat, as if remembering the submission due to man in his primitive\nstate of innocence, used to mount the table as desired, and remain\nthere, as if on guard, till the good brother returned.\n\nSt. Anthony of Padua also was full of love for animals, as well as\nof nature in general, as he showed by constant allusions in his\nsermons. He was always dwelling with delight upon the whiteness and\ngentleness of the swans, the mutual charity of the storks, the purity\nand fragrance of the flowers of the fields, etc., etc. When preaching\nonce to sinners who refused to listen to him, he suddenly turned\naway from them, and, appealing to the animal world, asked the fish\nof the water to hearken to him. The old legend tells how they lifted\ntheir heads in great numbers from the water to listen to his words.\n\nSt. Bernard would deliver the bird from the snare of the fowler, and\nthe wild hare from the hounds.\n\nSt. Ignatius Loyola admired the beauty, wisdom, and power of the\nCreator in his creatures. He was often rapt in contemplation before\nan insect, a flower, or a blade of grass.\n\nSt. Francis de Sales so constantly manifests an extraordinary love\nof nature in his writings that they have been compared to the sacred\nveil of Isis, on which was embroidered all created things. Here is\nan extract taken at random from his writings, which lose their rare\n_bouquet_ in translating:\n\n\"It had been snowing, and there was in the court, at least, a foot\nof snow. Jean swept a small space in the centre, and scattered grain\non the ground for the pigeons to eat. They came in a flock to take\ntheir food there with wonderful peace and quietness, and I amused\nmyself with looking at them. You cannot imagine how much these little\ncreatures edified me. They did not utter a sound, and those who had\nfinished their meal immediately made room for others, and flew a\nshort distance to see them eat. When the place was partly vacated,\na quantity of birdlings that had been surveying them came up, and\nthe pigeons that were still eating drew up in one corner to leave\nthe more space for the little birds, who forthwith began to eat. The\npigeons did not molest them.\n\n\"I admired their charity, for the pigeons were so afraid of annoying\nthe little birds that they crowded together at one end of their\ntable. I admired, too, the discretion of the little mendicants, who\nonly asked alms when they saw the pigeons were nearly through their\nmeal, and that there was enough left. Altogether, I could not help\nshedding tears to see the charitable simplicity of the doves, and the\nconfidence of the little birds in their charity. I do not know that\na sermon would have affected me so keenly. This little picture of\nkindness did me good the whole day.\"\n\nAnd again, in writing to Madame de Chantal on the repose of the heart\non the divine will, he says:\n\n\"I was thinking the other day of what I had read of the halcyon,\na little bird that lays on the sea-shore. They make their nests\nperfectly round, and so compact that the water of the sea cannot\npenetrate them. Only on the top there is a little hole through which\nthey can breathe. There they lodge their little ones, so if the sea\nrises suddenly, they can float upon the waves with no fear of being\nwet or submerged. The air which enters by the little hole serves as\na counterpoise, and so balances these little cushions, these little\n_barquettes_, that they are never overturned.\"\n\nThere is in the Louvre a charming little picture by Giotto of\nSt. Francis preaching to the birds. The saint's face, with an\nearnest, loving expression, is looking up at the birds, that,\nwith outstretched necks and half-open beaks, appear to catch his\nwords. The old legend which this painting illustrates with all the\nartist's vividness in presenting a story, is equally charming in\nits simplicity. It is as follows: As St. Francis was going toward\nBivagno, he lifted up his eyes and saw a multitude of birds. He said\nto his companions: Wait for me here while I preach to my little\nsisters the birds. The birds all gathered around him, and he spoke\nto them somewhat as follows: \"My little sisters the birds, you owe\nmuch to God your Creator, and ought to sing his praise at all times\nand in all places, because he has given you liberty, and the air to\nfly about in, and, though you neither spin nor sew, he has given you\na covering for yourselves and your little ones. He sent two of your\nspecies into the ark with Noah that you might not be lost to the\nworld. He feeds you, though you neither sow nor reap. He has given\nyou fountains and rivers in which to quench your thirst, and trees in\nwhich to build your nests. Beware, my little sisters, of the sin of\ningratitude, and study always to praise the Lord.\"\n\nAs he preached, the birds opened their beaks, and stretched out their\nnecks, and flapped their wings, and bowed their heads toward the\nearth.\n\nHis sermon over, St. Francis made the sign of the cross, and the\nbirds flew up into the air, singing sweetly their song of praise, and\ndispersed toward the four quarters of the world, as if to convey the\nwords they had heard to all the world.\n\nThe sympathy of St. Francis of Assisi with nature, both animate and\ninanimate, is well known. He has been styled the Orpheus of the\nmiddle ages. Like the Psalmist, he called upon all nature to praise\nthe Lord: \"Praise the Lord from the earth, ye dragons and all ye\ndeeps; fire, hail, snow, ice, stormy winds which fulfil his word,\nmountains and all hills, fruitful trees and all cedars, beasts and\nall cattle, serpents and all feathered fowls.\"\n\nThe very sight of a bird incited St. Francis to lift his soul to God\non the wings of prayer. Crossing the lagunes of Venice on his way\nfrom Syria, he heard the birds singing, and said to his companions:\n\"Let us go and say the divine office in the midst of our brethren the\nbirds, who are praising God.\" But finding they diverted his attention\nfrom his office, he said: \"My brethren the birds, cease your song\ntill we have fulfilled our obligations to God.\" The birds ceased\ntheir song till the saint gave them permission to resume it.\n\nPreaching in the open air, in the environs of Alviano, St. Francis\ncould not make himself heard on account of the number of swallows. He\nstopped and addressed them: \"My sisters the swallows, you have spoken\nlong enough. It is only right that I should have my turn. Listen to\nthe word of God while I am preaching.\"\n\nMeeting a young man who had caught a number of doves, he looked on\nthem with eyes of pity, and said: \"O good young man! I entreat thee\nto give me those harmless birds, the scriptural emblems of pure,\nhumble, and faithful souls, so they may not fall into cruel hands and\nbe put to death.\" The young man gave them to St. Francis, who put\nthem in his bosom, and said to them in the sweetest of accents: \"O my\nlittle sisters the doves! so simple, so innocent, and so chaste, why\ndid you allow yourselves to be caught?\" He made nests for them in the\nconvent, where they laid and hatched their young, and became as tame\nas hens among the friars.\n\nSt. Francis was often seen employed in removing worms from the road\nthat they might not be trampled on by travellers, remembering that\nour Divine Redeemer compared himself to a worm, and also having\ncompassion on a creature of God.\n\nHe revered the very stones he trod on, so that he sometimes trembled\nin walking over them, recalling him who is the chief corner-stone of\nthe spiritual edifice.\n\nHe wished the brothers when they cut wood in the forest to leave some\nshoots in memory of Him who wished to die for us upon the wood of the\ncross.\n\nA flower reminded him of the rod of Jesse which budded and blossomed,\nand whose perfume is diffused throughout the world.\n\nHe sometimes wished he were one of the rulers of the land, that at\nChristmas he might scatter grain by the wayside and in the fields,\nthat the birds also might have occasion to rejoice on that festival\nof joy.\n\nBefore his death, St. Francis made a great feast at Christmas, to\nwhich he invited the animals. He prepared a manger in the woods,\nin which there was straw, an ox, and an ass. A long procession of\nfriars, followed by a crowd of people bearing torches and chanting\nhymns, descended the mountain. Mass was offered, and St. Francis\npreached on the birth of Christ, after which, filled with a holy joy,\nhe went through the fields bursting forth into a hymn, calling upon\nthe vines, the trees, the flowers of the field, the stars of heaven,\nand the sun, and all his brethren and sisters throughout nature, to\nrejoice with him, and to unite with him in blessing their Creator.\n\nA wolf ravaged the environs of Agobio to the great terror of the\npeople. St. Francis went forth armed with the sign of the cross, and\ncommanded his brother the wolf, in the name of Christ, to do no more\nharm. The wolf, that was making furiously at the saint with distended\njaws, stopped short, and lay down meek as a lamb at his feet. Then\nSt. Francis laid before the wolf the enormity of his offence in\ndevouring men made in the image of God, and promised that if he would\nhenceforth abstain from his ravages he should be fed daily by the\ninhabitants. The wolf signified his assent to the arrangement by\nplacing his paw in that of St. Francis. Then the saint took the wolf\nto the market-place, and made known to the people the compact he had\nmade. They ratified the agreement to feed the wolf daily till the end\nof his days, and for two years he went from door to door to get his\nfood, harming no one, at the end of which time he died, greatly to\nthe sorrow of all.\n\nFrederick Ozanam says in this legend, which may provoke a smile:\n\"The animal that preys upon the spoils and lives of men is the\nrepresentative of the people of the middle ages, fierce and terrible\nwhen their passions were excited, but never despaired of by the\nchurch, who took their blood-stained hands in her divine ones, and\ngently led them on till she succeeded in inspiring them with a horror\nof rapine and violence.\"\n\nSt. Francis would salute in a friendly manner the cattle in the\npastures. Once, seeing a lamb among the goats and cattle, he was\nfilled with pity, and said to his brethren, \"So was our sweet\nSaviour in the midst of the Pharisees and Sadducees.\" A merchant\nthat happened along bought the lamb and gave it to St. Francis. It\nwas confided to some nuns, who carefully tended it, and of its wool\nspun and wove a garment for the saint, who often kissed it tenderly\nand showed it to his friends. Going to Rome, St. Francis took the\nlamb with him and, when he left, gave it to a pious lady. The lamb\nfollowed her everywhere, even to church. If she did not rise early\nenough in the morning, he would strike his head against her bed till\nhe roused her.\n\nSt. Francis would weep if he saw a lamb about to be killed, recalling\nHim who was led as a sheep to the slaughter, and would sell his very\ngarments to save it from death.\n\nHe loved the ant less than any other insect, because it was so\nthoughtful for the morrow. Of the whole animal world, he cared the\nmost for birds, who loved him too, and at his death joyfully sang his\ntriumphant entry into heaven. The larks, in particular, assembled at\nan early hour on the roof of the cell where the dead saint lay, with\nsongs of extraordinary sweetness that lasted for several hours.\n\nAn infinite number of such examples could yet be cited, but enough\nhave been given to show how the animal world lays aside its ferocity\nin proportion as man returns to his primitive state of innocence.\nThis is quite in accordance with our idea of the millennium: The wolf\nalso shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with\nthe kid, and the calf, and the young lion, and the fatling together,\nand a little child shall lead them.\n\nIf, then, sanctity brings man back to his true relations to the\nDeity, and restores him to his primitive relations with nature,\nlet us work our way back to Eden by our purity, fasts, vigils, and\nprayers.\n\n\n\n\nCATHOLICITY AND PANTHEISM.\n\nNO. XI.\n\n\nRELATIONS BETWEEN THE SUBLIMATIVE MOMENT AND SUBSTANTIAL CREATION.\n\nIt will be the aim of this article to point out some consequences\nwhich result from the essence and properties of the supernatural\nterm, considered respectively to the term of substantial creation.\nThey go to establish the absolute supremacy of the supernatural term\nover substantial creation. We shall give them in as many propositions.\n\n_1st. In the general plan of the cosmos, the supernatural term in\nitself and in its application, forming that part of the cosmos which\nmay be called the supernatural order, takes precedence of substantial\ncreation, or the natural order._\n\nThis proposition is easily proven. The greater the intensity of\nperfection in a being, the nobler is the being; or, in other words,\nthe greater amount of being a thing contains or exhibits, the\nhigher is the place which it occupies in the ordinate location and\nharmony of the cosmos. The principle is too evident to need any\nproof, and we assume it as granted. Now, we have shown that the\nsupernatural term in itself and in its application is by far more\nperfect than substantial creation; because it is a higher and more\nperfect similitude of Christ and of the Trinity; because it is\nthe complement and the perfection of nature, and enables it to be\njoined with the Theanthropos, and through him to be ushered into the\nsociety of the three divine persons, communicating with their life,\nand thus arriving at the palingenesiacal state. Consequently, the\nsupernatural in the cosmic plan must take precedence of substantial\ncreation, and in the intention and design of the creator must precede\nnature.\n\n_2d. The supernatural is the end of substantial creation, and third\nend of the exterior action of the infinite._\n\nIn a series of means co-ordinate with each other, and depending one\nupon another in order to attain a primary object, that which in force\nof the excellence and perfection of its nature precedes others,\nis to be considered as end in respect to those means which follow\nnext to it in dignity of nature; otherwise the means could have no\nrelation whatever with each other, and the primary end could not be\nattained. In a series of means co-ordination implies dependence, and\nthis dependence is established by the superiority of the one, and\ninferiority of the other. Hence the superior means in the series\nbecomes _end_ respectively to inferior means in the same series. Now,\nwe have demonstrated that the supernatural term precedes nature in\nexcellence and intensity of perfection; it becomes, therefore, in the\nharmony of the cosmic plan, the end of the substantial moment; as the\nTheanthropic moment is end in reference to the supernatural, and as\nGod's manifestation of his infinite excellence and perfections is the\nend of the Theanthropos, and thus the primary end of the cosmic plan\nis obtained.\n\n\"All things are yours,\" said St. Paul of those in whom the\nsupernatural term is realized: \"you are Christ's; Christ is God's.\"\n\n_3d. The supernatural term is the exemplar and type of substantial\ncreation._\n\nFor it is the end which determines and shapes the nature of the\nmeans. The creative intelligence of the infinite, by contemplating\nthe end which it has in view, and the essential laws of being\nresiding in his nature, which is _the Being_, shapes and fashions\nmentally the nature and properties of the means. Hence it is evident\nthat, the supernatural term being the end of substantial creation, it\nstands towards it as the exemplar and type to its copy.\n\n_4th. The supernatural term is the mediator between the Theanthropos\nand substantial creation._\n\nThis last proposition is a consequence of the preceding ones. For,\nif the supernatural term precedes substantial creation in excellence\nand perfection of being, if it is its end and its type, it is\nevident that, in the general order and harmony of the cosmos, its\nnatural place is between the Theanthropos and substantial creation.\nConsequently, it is mediator between them. Of course, the intelligent\nreader will easily understand that this mediatorship is not one\nmerely of place and location, but a mediatorship of action; since the\nterms here in question are all agents.\n\nThese four properties of the supernatural moment, which, we flatter\nourselves, have been demonstrated and put beyond the possibility of\ndoubt, will enable our readers to see the philosophy of various other\ntruths held by Catholicity, and denied by rationalism, Pantheism, and\nProtestantism.\n\nAnd, first, the possibility of miracles follows evidently from these\nprinciples.\n\nA miracle is a sensible phenomenon superseding or contrary to the\nestablished laws of corporal creation. A body left to itself by the\nordinary law of gravitation should fall to the ground. Suppose it\nshould hover between heaven and earth without any support, it would\npresent a phenomenon contrary to the natural law of bodies. It would\nbe what is called miracle, from the word _miror_, to wonder or to be\namazed, because our intellect is always astonished when it cannot see\nat once the cause of an effect.\n\nThe possibility of such phenomena contrary to the established laws of\nnature has been denied by Pantheists and rationalists, both for the\nsame reason, though each draw that reason from a different source.\nThe Pantheist, who admits that the cosmos is nothing but that primary\nindefinite something which is continually developing itself by a\nnecessary interior movement, denies the possibility of miracles on\nthe ground that the development of the infinite being necessary,\nand being performed according to the necessary laws of being, the\ndevelopment must necessarily be uniform, and the phenomena resulting\nfrom it always the same.\n\nThe rationalist, though not admitting the germinal primary activity\nof Pantheism, asserts the absolute immutability of the laws of\ncreation, and consequently cannot concede the possibility of any\ncontravention to the results of those laws, without supposing their\ntotal overthrow.\n\nWe hold that the possibility of miracles follows clearly from the\nproperties of the supernatural moment; for, if the supernatural\nmoment precedes nature in force of its intrinsic excellence and\nperfection of being, if it is the end and type of the natural\norder, it is perfectly evident that the whole natural order is\ndependent upon and subject to the supernatural order by the law of\n_hierarchy_; and consequently it is evident that the laws governing\nthe sensible order are also dependent upon and subject to the\nsupernatural order, and must have been determined and fashioned in\nsuch a manner as to serve every purpose of that same order.\n\nHence, if the supernatural term, in order to assert itself before\ncreated spirits, to prove its own autonomy, its necessity, requires\na phenomenon contrary to the established law of sensible creation,\nthose laws must necessarily give way before their hierarchical\nsuperior, otherwise the whole order of the cosmos would be\noverthrown. This consequence is absolutely inevitable; and any one\nwho has followed us in the demonstration of the intrinsic superiority\nof the supernatural term over substantial creation, cannot fail to\nperceive it. But to make it better understood we shall enter for a\nmoment into the very heart of the question.\n\nLet us take, as an example, the law of gravitation. Why do bodies\nleft to themselves fall to the ground? The natural philosopher, with\na look of profound wisdom, will answer at once, because of the law of\ngravitation. Now, if our philosopher claims to give no other answer\nbut that which is within the sphere of his researches, the answer\nis correct; because his science of observation can carry him no\nfurther. But if by the word gravitation he should pretend to give a\nsatisfactory ultimate reason of the phenomenon of the fall of bodies,\nhis answer would make a metaphysician laugh. The law of gravitation!\nIndeed! But what is that law? Does it exist in the body, or in God?\nor has it an existence independent of both? If it exists in the body,\nhow can it be a general law, when each body is an individuum? If it\nexist in God, how is it broken or altered, or destroyed, when the\nphenomenon of a miracle affects only a particular body? If it has an\nexistence independent of both, what is it? Is it a god, or a Platonic\nidea, and, if so, whence does it derive the force to assert itself\nover God's creation?\n\nThese few questions, and many more which we could bring forward, show\nthat to account for the fall of bodies by the law of gravitation, is\nto give no particular or satisfactory reason for the phenomenon.\n\nWe have already given one theory, the theory of the most profound\nmetaphysicians of the world, that no finite beings can act without\nthe aid of God; that God must really and effectively excite them to\naction, aid them during the action until it is accomplished; because\nhe is necessarily the first and the universal cause. Therefore,\nbodies as well as higher beings are absolutely dependent upon God\nfor their action; and that which natural philosophers call the law\nof gravitation, or any other law, such as attraction, repulsion,\nand so forth, in itself is nothing more than the action of God upon\nbodies. Now, God in acting in and upon bodies has certainly a plan\nand an order marked out in his mind, according to which he acts in\nand directs them. This order he has derived from the infinite laws of\nbeing, which are his very essence, and consequently, in this sense,\nthat order is stable and immutable. But it must be borne in mind that\nthis order marked out in the mind of God, according to which he acts\nin and directs bodies, is _not the whole order of the cosmos_. It is\nonly a part, a moment, and the most inferior of all. Consequently,\nit is an order subject to and dependent upon the order of the other\nand higher moment, and upon the universal order of the cosmos. Hence\nthe same divine essence, the eternal model and type of everything,\nat the same time that it marks out the order for the acting in and\ndirecting of bodies, subjects it to the order of higher moments, and\nto the cosmological, universal order. In the application, therefore,\nof this eternal order marked out by his infinite essence, God acts in\nand directs bodies according to the stable and immutable order proper\nto this moment, until an exception is necessary. But when the order\nof higher moments and the universal order demand an exception, the\norder of the direction of bodies, being inferior, must necessarily\nyield to the superior, and the sensible order must, so to speak, be\nsuspended for that occasion. We have said, so to speak, because even\nthen the sensible order is not altered or broken, as rationalism\nimagines; it is the application of the general sensible order to a\nparticular body which is suspended. It is not the objective order,\nbut the subjective particular realization of it, which is superseded.\nLet us take as example the law so often mentioned. The general order\nestablished in the mind of God with regard to acting in bodies is\nto make them gravitate toward the centre of the earth. Suppose an\nexception of this law becomes necessary to assert the supernatural\norder. God, upon that particular occasion, does not apply the general\nlaw in a particular body, but acts in it contrary to that law. Is\nthe law of gravitation broken or altered in consequence of that\nexception? If the law were an essential property of bodies, a natural\nconsequence of their essence, it would be. But the law in its general\nand objective essence exists in God only; it does not exist in the\nbody; and consequently it cannot be altered by a suspension of its\napplication in a given case.\n\nWere God to act otherwise than to admit such exceptions in the\nsubjective application of the order of sensible creation, he would\ngo against reason, and act contrary to his essence; for in that case\nhe would prefer a particular and inferior order to the general and\nsuperior order of the whole cosmos. The true principles, then, in the\npresent matter are the following:\n\n1st. The laws according to which bodies act and are directed do not\nexist in bodies, but are an order marked out in the mind of God as\nderived from his infinite essence.\n\n2d. This order is an element, and an inferior one, of the universal\norder of the whole cosmos, and consequently, by the law of hierarchy,\nis subject to that same universal order.\n\n3d. This sensible order is always stable and permanent in itself and\nin its objective state, but in its application to particular bodies\nis subject to variation when this variation is demanded by a superior\norder, or by the universal order of the cosmos.\n\nThe reader will observe, after what we have said, how futile is the\nargument of rationalists that a miracle is impossible because the\nlaws of bodies are immutable. Certainly, if the laws exist in the\nbodies. But the laws of bodies, as we have said, are nothing more\nthan the order marked out in the mind of God, according to which\nhe acts in and directs them, and, this order being universal and\nobjective, is never changed or altered. Only its application in\nparticular bodies on a particular occasion is not made, or made in\na contrary sense, because such is the requirement of the universal\norder. If this be kept in view, every difficulty will vanish in\nreference to this matter; for this is exactly that which prevents\nrationalists, from understanding the possibility of miracles--their\nwant of perception that it is _God_ who acts in every single body.\nThey imagine a general principle, as if it were self-existing, which\npervades all the bodies, which ought to be destroyed to permit the\nexception. Now, this is a mere phantom. It is God, we repeat it, who\napplies the order marked in his mind in every single body, which\nin his mind _only_ is universal and objectively immutable, but\nsubjectively, in its application, it need not be constant, except\nso long as no exception is required. Our natural philosophers of\nthe rationalistic school imagine the law of bodies to be a sort of\ndemigod, stern and immutable, particularly loth of and averse to\nbeing disturbed, and consequently cannot see the possibility of a\nmiracle.\n\nThe second truth which follows from the attributes of the\nsupernatural moment, is that _prayer governs the universe_.\n\nPrayer, taken in its strictest acceptation, is the universal mode\nof action of spirits elevated to the supernatural moment. To\nunderstand this rightly, it is necessary to observe that every\nmoment of the action of God, considered in its term, is possessed\nof a particular mode of action resulting from and befitting its\nessence and attributes. Thus, substantial creation, or the whole\naggregate of being included in this moment, acts as it were by\n_apprehension and volition_. In spiritual beings, this manner of\nacting is strictly and properly so; in inferior beings, like the\nbrutes, it is less so, but bears a great resemblance to it, for the\nanimal has apprehensive faculties, though wanting in the power of\ngeneralization and abstraction, and confined within the concrete and\nin the individual; and he has also instincts and tendencies leading\ntoward the object apprehended. The vegetable kingdom acts according\nto the same manner, though more materially; for it apprehends the\nelements required for its growth from the earth and the atmosphere,\nand, assimilating them to itself by an interior force, is able to\ndevelop itself. Every one is aware that the general laws of matter\nare those of _attraction and repulsion_, which bear a resemblance,\nthough a faint one, to the law of apprehension and volition.\n\nNow, the particular mode of acting in persons elevated to the\nsupernatural moment is by _prayer_, which is composed of various\nelements according to various relations under which it is considered.\n\nIt may be considered in itself, its essence and nature, and in the\npersons to whom it has reference. The persons are the infinite\nand the finite. In itself, prayer is divided into two moments--a\ndeprecatory moment, and a life-giving moment.\n\nA deprecatory moment--because the effect of the prayer, resting\nabsolutely on the free will of the infinite, cannot be claimed by the\nfinite as a right, but as an effect of an infinite, goodness yielding\nto a supplication; and in this sense it implies the following\nelements on the part of the finite:\n\n1st. An acknowledgment, theoretical and practical, of the infinite\nas being the absolute and universal source of all good; and of the\nabsolute dependence of the finite upon the infinite in all things;\nthis acknowledgment arising in the finite from the consciousness and\nfeeling of its finiteness both in the natural and the supernatural\norder.\n\n2d. A gravitation, natural and supernatural, on the part of this\nfinite toward the infinite, as the origin and the preserver of the\nbeing in both orders, as the mover of its natural and supernatural\nfaculties, and as the final complement of both.\n\n3d. A cry to the infinite for the satisfaction of this aspiration.\n\n4th. A firm and unshaken reliance of being satisfied in this\naspiration, founded both on the intrinsic goodness and on the\npersonal promises of the infinite.\n\nThese four elements on the part of the finite are absolutely\nnecessary to constitute a prayer in its deprecatory sense; and they\nare either implicitly or explicitly to be found in every prayer. The\nspirit who bows before the infinite must acknowledge theoretically\nand practically that God is the Master and Lord of all things, the\ninfinite eternal source of all being and all perfection; he must\nacknowledge and be conscious freely and deliberately that his being\ncomes from God, and that that same divine action which created and\nelevated it must maintain it in existence, aid it in the development\nof its faculties, and bring it to its final completion. He must\nfreely and deliberately yearn after all this, and have firm reliance\nthat the infinite will maintain his being, aid it in its growth, and\nbring it to its full bloom in the palingenesia.\n\nOn the part of the infinite, prayer in this same deprecatory sense\nimplies an action of God existing and aiding the finite in producing\nthe aforesaid four acts necessary to constitute a prayer.\n\nIf we regard prayer in its life-giving moment, it implies two\nelements: one on the part of the infinite, the other on the part of\nthe finite. On the part of the infinite, it implies a real actual\nand personal communication, a giving of himself by a personal\nintercourse to the finite; and, on the part of the latter, a\npersonal apprehension of the infinite, and an assimilation of and\ntransformation into the infinite. We cannot refrain here from quoting\na beautiful page of a French writer in explanation of this last\nelement: \"When man's will, lifted by an ardent desire, succeeds in\nputting itself in contact with the supreme will, the miracle of\nthe divine intervention is accomplished. Prayer, which _renders\nGod present to us_,[141] is a kind of communion by which man feeds\non grace, and assimilates to himself that celestial aliment of the\nsoul. In that ineffable communication, the divine will penetrates our\nwill, its action is mingled with our action to produce but one and\nthe same indivisible work, which belongs whole and entire to both;\nwonderful union of grandeur and of lowliness, of a power eternally\nfecund, and of a created activity which is exhausted by its very\nduration, of an incorruptible and regenerating element with the\ninfirm and corruptible elements of our being; union, which believed\nin invariably, though conceived in different manner by the savage\ntribes as well as by the most civilized nations, has been under\ndifferent forms, and in spite of the errors which have obscured it,\nthe immortal belief of humanity.\"[142]\n\nNow, we maintain that prayer, understood in all its comprehension,\nbesides the effect which it produces in its own natural sphere, is\nalso the hierarchical superior of the action of the whole substantial\ncreation; and that, consequently, the latter must yield to the\nformer, whenever they should happen to come in conflict with each\nother; and thus, under this respect, it may be said that prayer\ngoverns the world.\n\nThis may be proven by two sorts of argument; one as it were exterior,\nthe other intrinsic to the subject.\n\nThe first is drawn from the properties of the supernatural moment.\nFor, if this moment is superior to substantial creation, if it is\nthe end and type of it, every one can see that the mode of acting\nof elevated spirits--spirits in whom the supernatural moment is\nrealized and concreted--must necessarily precede and be superior to\nthe mode of action of substantial creation, and that the latter must\nnecessarily be subject to the former--unless we abolish and deny the\nuniversal law of hierarchy presiding and ruling over all the moments\nof the exterior action of God, and founded on the intrinsic and\nrespective value of beings. _Actio sequitur esse_ is the old axiom\nof ontology. If the being of the supernatural moment is superior to\nthe being of substantial creation, the mode of action of the first\nmust also, in force of that axiom, be superior to the mode of action\nof the latter. When, therefore, a natural law, a law of substantial\ncreation, comes in opposition with a true prayer, a prayer made with\nall the conditions which its nature requires, the natural law must\nyield and give way to prayer.\n\nThe second argument is drawn from the essence of prayer as\na life-giving agent. What is prayer in this sense? It is an\nactual communication of the finite with the infinite, an actual\nparticipation of the infinite and his attributes; it is a possession\nwhich the finite takes of the infinite, the appropriation, the\nassimilation of the infinite. It is the finite transported and\ntransformed into the infinite. For in it the mind of the finite takes\nhold of the mind of the infinite, and is, as it were, transformed\ninto it; the will and energy of the finite grasps the will and the\nalmighty power of the infinite, and is changed, as it were, into it;\nthe person of the finite is united to the person of the infinite, and\nis assimilated to him. Now, it is evident that prayer understood in\nthis sense is no longer an act of the finite alone, but an act of\nboth the finite and the infinite; it is the result of the energy of\nboth. Its efficacy and energy therefore must be as superior to the\nenergy of all substantial creation as the infinite is superior to the\nfinite. Consequently, it is evident that when a natural law pregnant\nwith finite energy comes in conflict with a prayer impregnated, so to\nspeak, with infinite energy, the former must yield to the superior\nforce of the latter.\n\nPrayer governs the world also in a sense more general than the\none we have hitherto indicated for it. The sum of all the actions\nof substantial creation has been so disposed, and is so ruled and\ngoverned, as to be always subject to the sum of all the actions of\nthe supernatural moment, and this for the same reasons developed\nabove.\n\nHere it can be seen with how much reason those philosophers who\ncall themselves rationalists sneer and wax indignant at the fact,\nconstant in time and place, of the importance which mankind has\nattached to prayer for physical reasons, as for rain, for fair\nweather, for a good harvest, and the like. They show evidently how\nfar they are from understanding the sublime hierarchical harmony of\nthe cosmos, which the simple ones of the earth, who have faith in\nGod, instinctively feel and acknowledge. For if God did not create\nthe cosmos at random without a plan or design, he assuredly must have\nfollowed and maintained the necessary relations of things. Now, if\nsubstantial creation and its mode of action is hierarchically--that\nis, in comprehension of being--inferior to the supernatural term and\nits mode of action, if the latter is the end and type of the former,\nand if they are not to be kept apart, but to be brought together into\nunity and harmony, and must thus harmoniously act, it is clear to\nthe rudest understanding that the one mode of action must be subject\nto the other, and that consequently, when a prayer is in opposition\nwith the realization of natural law, the natural law must yield, and\nthe prayer must prevail.\n\nNor will it do to say that if such were the case the natural order\nwould no longer enjoy any stability or permanence, because some\nprayer or other might come continually in opposition to it. For\nthe whole series of actions of substantial creation is marked out\neternally in the mind of the infinite. Likewise the whole series of\nactions of the supernatural moment is marked out in the same mind;\nthey are brought together in beautiful harmony in the same divine\nintellect from all eternity. God has foreseen when and how a prayer\nwould require the suspension of the natural law, and has willed and\ndecreed it, so that no suspension of natural law, consequent upon\na prayer, can take place which has not been foreseen and arranged\nharmoniously from all eternity; and if we could for a moment cast\na glance into the mind of the infinite, we should see an infinite\nseries of actions of substantial creation; an infinite series of\nactions of the supernatural moment; all intertwined in a most\nharmonious whole, and the different exceptions here and there only\nlinking together the two orders, putting them in bolder relief, and\nenhancing the beauty and harmony of the whole cosmos. The theory\nwhich we have been vindicating explains also a phenomenon so frequent\nand so common in the history of the Catholic Church--the saint who\nworks miracles, or the _Thaumaturgus_.\n\nA saint is one in whom a certain fulness of the supernatural term\nresides, and hence a certain fulness of the particular mode of action\nbelonging to that moment. A saint can pray well; therefore he can\nwork miracles, and does oftentimes. Protestantism has not only denied\nmost of the miracles not recorded in the Bible, but has gone so far\nas to deny the possibility of such miracles ever occurring after\nthe establishment and propagation of Christianity, on the plea that\nthey are no longer necessary. It was but a logical consequence of\nits doctrine of justification. If man is not really made holy in\nhis justification, if he does not receive in his soul the term of\nthe supernatural moment as really inherent in him, it is clear he\ncannot have or possess the mode of action of that moment, still less\na certain fulness of it. Consequently, neither is he elevated above\nsubstantial creation, nor is his mode of action superior to the\naction of that same moment, and therefore he cannot exercise a power\nand an efficacy which he has not. In other words, a man justified\naccording to the Protestant doctrine cannot be a saint intrinsically,\nand cannot consequently pray. And how could he work miracles? It was\nnatural to deny such possibility.\n\nBut endow a man with the supernatural term in a certain fulness,\nand hence suppose him possessed of a fulness of its mode of action\nintrinsically superior in energy to the mode of action of substantial\ncreation, and you may suppose he is likely to exercise it, and work\nmiracles oftentimes.\n\nAs to the plea of necessity, it is absolutely futile. A miracle would\nbe necessary even after the establishment of Christianity in all\ntimes and places, which, by the bye, has not been accomplished yet,\nif for no other reason, in order to assert and vindicate from time\nto time the existence and the supremacy of the supernatural over the\nnatural.\n\nThe third truth emanating from the qualities of the supernatural\nmoment is that those created persons in whom the term of that moment\nis realized are essentially mediators between the Theanthropos and\nsubstantial creation.\n\nThe principle follows evidently from the fourth quality essentially\nbelonging to the supernatural term, that of being mediator between\nthe other moments, the hypostatic and the substantial.\n\nFor if the term of that moment in intensity of being and perfection\nhold a place between the other two moments, it is evident that those\nin whom the moment is realized must hold the same middle place and\nbe, consequently, mediators. Hence, it appears how the Catholic\ndoctrine of the intercession, and, by logical consequence, of the\ninvocation, of saints, is a cosmological law, as imperative as any\nother law of the cosmos. For what does the word mediator mean?\nLimiting the question to location or space, it signifies a thing\nplaced or located between two others; in a hierarchical sense,\nconfining the question to being and essence, it expresses a thing\nin essence and nature inferior to one and superior to another; in\nthe same sense, confining the question to action and development,\nit exhibits a thing in its action and development inferior to the\naction and development of one and superior in the same to another.\nThe person, therefore, in whom the supernatural term is realized\nis mediator in the sense of being in essence, nature, attributes,\naction, and development, superior to the same things of substantial\ncreation, and inferior to those of the Theanthropos. Now, as the\ncosmos is not governed by the law of hierarchy alone, but also by\nthe law of unity and communion, and as these laws imply a real\nand effective union and communication of being and action between\nthe terms of the cosmos, it follows that the person in whom the\nsupernatural term is concreted is in real and effective communication\nwith the Theanthropos, as inferior, and in real and effective\ncommunication, as superior, with substantial creation; he is in\ncommunication with the former as subject and dependent, with the\nlatter as superior, and with both as medium; that is, a recipient\nrelatively to the Theanthropos, as transmitting what it receives from\nthe Theanthropos relatively to substantial creation; both relations\nbeing exercised by the person elevated in every sense, either as\nreceiving from the Theanthropos and transmitting to substantial\ncreation, or as representative of substantial creation before the\nTheanthropos.\n\nAnd as we are speaking of moral persons, that is, free, intelligent\nagents, in what can these relations consist but in this, that\nelevated persons, acting as mediums, may intercede and obtain favors\nfor created persons from the Theanthropos, and these may invoke their\nintercession in their behalf?\n\nThe doctrine, therefore, of the intercession and the invocation of\nsaints is a cosmological law, resulting from the law of hierarchy,\nunity, and communion, and governing the relation of purely created\npersons with those elevated to the supernatural moment.\n\nIt must be here remarked that the mediatorship of persons elevated\nis not confined only to persons in their mere natural state, but it\nextends also to persons elevated to the supernatural moment, because\nthe supernatural term admits of variety of degree, some persons being\nendowed with a certain fulness of that moment, some with much less.\nThose in whom the fulness is realized are hierarchically mediators\nbetween the Theanthropos and other elevated spirits possessing a less\namount of that term, and can consequently intercede for the latter.\n\nIt must be remarked, in the second place, that the law governs the\ncosmos not only in its germinal state, but also in its state of\ncompletion and perfection; and we cannot possibly discover or imagine\nby what logical process Protestantism, which admits this law in\nthe germinal and incipient state of the cosmos, denies it to exist\nbetween persons elevated to the state of palingenesia and those\nwho are yet in the germinal state. This denial, so far as we can\nsee, could be supported only by the supposition that as soon as an\nelevated person reaches its final development, every tie of union,\nevery bond of intercourse, is immediately broken asunder between him\nand other persons living yet in the germinal state of the cosmos. But\nhow false and absurd this supposition would be is evident to every\none who at all understands the exterior works of God. The cosmos\nbeing measured by time, is essentially successive; in other words,\nall the elements of the cosmos cannot possibly reach their final\ncompletion at one and the same time, the law of variety and hierarchy\nnecessarily forbidding it. It is absolutely necessary, then, that\nsome elements should reach their final perfection first and some\nafterwards, in proportion as they come to take place in the cosmos\nsuccessively. If, therefore, by one element of the cosmos reaching\nits final development all intercourse were to be broken between it\nand all other elements which have not reached so high a condition, it\nwould follow that the cosmos would never be one, never in harmony,\nuntil all had reached their final completion and the creation of\nmore elements entirely ceased. It would be a continual disorder and\nconfusion until the end of the world. Now this is absurd, since unity\nand harmony must always govern and adorn God's works. Nor can we see\nany intrinsic reason why it should be broken. The only plea alleged\nby Protestants in support of this suspension of all communion between\nthe spirits in palingenesia and those living on earth, is that there\ncan be no possible means of communication between them. They express\nthis idea commonly by saying that the saints in heaven cannot hear\nour prayers. How philosophical this plea is we leave it to the\nintelligent reader to determine. Suppose we had no direct answer to\ngive to this plea, the absolute necessity of the cosmos being one and\nharmonious would make a true philosopher infer that the infinite must\nhave found a means whereby to keep up this communication, though it\nmight be unknown to us what that means actually is.\n\nBut the direct answer is at hand. The Word of God is essentially the\nlife of the cosmos. He is the type of all the essences, of all the\nnatures, of all the personalities, of all the acts composing the\ncosmos. The cosmos, in all these respects, is reflected in the Word.\n\"All that was made in him was life.\" (St. John.)\n\nNow, all elevated spirits are united to and live in the Incarnate\nWord. The spirits or persons in the germinal state are united to his\nperson by the supernatural essence and the supernatural faculties\nof intelligence and of will. This forms the essential union between\nthem and the Theanthropos. The spirits in the final state are united\nto him in the same substantial sense, with the exception that their\nsupernatural essence has reached its utmost completion, their\nsupernatural intelligence is changed into intuition, and their\nsupernatural will has immediate possession of God.\n\nThe consequence of these principles is that the spirits in the\ngerminal state produce acts of invocation to the spirits in the final\nstate, and these acts are reflected or reproduced in the Theanthropos\nas the type and the intelligible objective life of the cosmos.\n\nThe spirits in the final state see, by intuition, in the Theanthropos\nall those acts of invocation of the spirits in the germinal state,\nand thus come to know what the spirits on earth claim from them.\nAs orator and audience, living in the same atmosphere, can hold\nintercourse with each other, because the words uttered by the orator\nare transmitted by the air to the ears of his audience, so the\nspirits on earth and the spirits in heaven hold intercourse with each\nother, because they live in the same medium.\n\nThe spirits on earth making acts of invocation to their brethren in\nheaven, these acts are reflected or reproduced in the Theanthropos,\nand from him reverberate and reach the eyes of the spirits in heaven\nliving in him, and thus they come to the knowledge of the wants and\nprayers of their brethren on earth.\n\nBut why such interposition of persons when we could go directly to\nthe Theanthropos? Does this not detract from the mediatorship of\nChrist?\n\nWhy, but because the cosmos must be one? Why, but because all the\nelements of the cosmos must communicate with each other? And how\ncan this doctrine detract from the mediatorship of Christ when _he_\nis made the source, the origin, the end of everything? If Catholic\ndoctrine claimed this intercourse independently of the Theanthropos,\nit would certainly detract from his mediatorship. But do we not\nestablish and centre this mediatorship of the saint entirely in the\nTheanthropos?\n\nThe last truth which follows from the essence of the supernatural\nterm is what is called the worship of saints. This truth is not only\na cosmological law, but an ontological principle, since, considered\nin its simplest and most ultimate acceptation, it implies nothing\nmore than the duty incumbent on every moral agent to acknowledge,\ntheoretically and practically, the intrinsic value of being. Suppose\na certain being is possessed of a hundred degrees of perfection, so\nto speak, I cannot, without a flat contradiction to my intelligence,\nwhich apprehends it, deny or ignore it; I cannot, without a flat\ncontradiction to my expansive faculty or will, which is attracted by\nit, fail to appreciate it practically. Now, the worship of saints,\nagainst which Protestantism has written and said so much, is founded\nentirely on that ontological principle. The saint is possessed\nof a certain fulness of the supernatural term. The supernatural\nintelligence of other elevated spirits apprehends this fulness, and\nthe supernatural will of the same spirits cannot fail to value it.\nThis theoretical and practical appreciation is esteem, and when\nexpressed outwardly is honor and praise. By the ontological principle\nof recognizing the value of being, therefore, it is evident that the\nCatholic theory of the worship of saints is not only theologically\nlawful, but eminently philosophical. Protestantism, in denying this\nworship, follows the same principle without being aware of it.\n\nIt starts from its own doctrine of justification, which consists,\nas we have seen, not in the interior cleansing of the soul from sin\nand in its elevation to the supernatural moment, but in an external\napplication to it of the merits of Christ. The example of the cloak\nis most appropriate. Suppose a man, all filthy and loathsome; cover\nhim with a rich and splendid cloak, so as to hide the filth and\nloathsomeness, and you have an example of Protestant justification.\nIt is all foreign, outward, unsubjective. Now, apply the ontological\nprinciple of the value of being to a saint of this calibre, and it\nis evident that you cannot esteem and value him because he is worth\nnothing subjectively, and hence the denial of the worship of saints\nis a logical consequence of the Protestant doctrine of justification,\nand an application, in a negative sense, of the ontological principle\nof the value of beings.\n\nOn the contrary, admit the Catholic doctrine of justification,\nwhereby a man is not only cleansed from sin, but elevated to a\nsupernatural moment, receiving as inherent in him a higher and nobler\nnature and higher and nobler faculties, and it is evident that you\nmust acknowledge _this_, value, esteem, and honor it.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[141] Orig. _De Orat._\n\n[142] Gerbet, _Le Dogme G\u00e9n\u00e9rateur de la Pi\u00e9t\u00e9 Catholique_.\n\n\n\n\nSAYINGS OF THE FATHERS OF THE DESERT.\n\n\nSo that there were in the mountain monasteries like tabernacles, full\nof divine choirs of men singing, reading, praying; and so great an\nardor for fasting and watching had his (St. Antony's) words enkindled\nin the minds of all that they labored with an avidity of hope and\nwith unceasing zeal in works of mutual charity, and in showing mercy\nto those who needed it, and they seemed to inhabit a sort of heavenly\ncountry, a city shut off from worldly conversation, full of piety and\njustice. Who, looking at such an army of monks--who, beholding that\nmanly and concordant company, in which there was none to do harm,\nno whisper of detraction, but a multitude of abstinent men and an\nemulation of kind offices, would not immediately break forth into the\nwords: How beautiful are thy tabernacles, O Jacob, and thy tents,\nO Israel! As woody valleys, as watered gardens near the rivers, as\ntabernacles which the Lord hath pitched, as cedars by the waterside\n(Num. xxiv. 5, 6)?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe disciple of an aged and famous monk was once assailed by\ntemptation. And, when the old man saw him struggling, he said to\nhim: Do you wish me to ask God to take away this trial from you?\nBut he answered: I see and consider, father, that though I wrestle\npainfully, yet out of this labor I bear fruit. But ask this of God in\nthy prayers, that he may give me patience to endure. And his father\nsaid to him: Now I know, my son, that thou hast made great progress,\nand surpassest me.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLet no man, when he has despised the world, think that he has left\nanything great.--_From the Life of blessed Abbot Antony, by St.\nAthanasius._\n\n\n\n\nTHE ITALIAN GUARANTEES AND THE SOVEREIGN PONTIFF.\n\n\nAfter having been proposed by the government of Italy, recast by the\nChamber of Deputies, amended by the Senate, adopted by the Chamber as\namended, and approved and signed by the King and his ministers, the\nproject of the guarantees for the Sovereign Pontiff's independence\nhas become a part of the law of the land. We are perfectly willing\nto believe that his majesty, regarding this scheme as promising\nthe fullest amount of freedom it was possible to obtain from his\nparliament for the Head of the Church, signed it with a feeling\nof relief; for if we are to credit the rumors, more or less well\nfounded, one hears in Florence and in Rome, broken tables and\nfurniture overturned bore witness to the unwillingness of the supreme\nauthority in the state to permit the violation of the Papal territory\nor to accept the pl\u00e9biscite of the so-called people of Rome. Not so,\nhowever, was it with the legislators of the kingdom. To them the\nPapacy has been and is a huge incubus, that disturbs their rest,\nfrightens them in their dreams, and which can be got rid of in truth\nonly by their waking up to a sense of what their real duty is. Their\naim has been, in dealing with it, to yield up as little as possible\nof their ill-gotten power over the successor of St. Peter, and to\nsecure themselves as effectually as possible against the only power\nthey ever feared--his spiritual weapons. This is the criterion by\nwhich we should study these guarantees; by the light of it we propose\nto examine them, and to discuss their pretended advantages.\n\nWhen the Italian government, hurried on by the spirit of revolution,\nseized upon Rome during the complications of last autumn that\ninsured impunity for the moment to the act, they found themselves\nface to face with the spiritual ruler of the whole Catholic world,\nand with the fixed convictions or invincible prejudices of two\nhundred millions of men, who regarded the position in which the\nSovereign Pontiff had been placed as not only against all law,\nbut also hurtful to their best interests. How were they to deal\nwith so delicate a question? The situation of Europe might for a\ntime delay the solution, but eventually there must be an account\ngiven and satisfaction rendered to the Catholic world. The cabinet\nhit on the only means it could hope to use with any appearance of\nsuccess, and the promises of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, Sig.\nVisconti Venosta, served as a decent pretext to liberal governments\nnot to interfere actively in the accommodation of things in Italy.\nThese promises are contained in the despatches sent to different\ngovernments during last winter, and published in the diplomatic\ndocuments laid before the various legislative bodies of Europe\nduring the past six months. To do the minister justice, he has stood\nout successfully against the extreme radical party in parliament\nthat opposed most violently any idea of concessions such as he had\ndesigned for the independence of the Sovereign Pontiff, and his\nappeal to the loyalty of Italy brought down the applause of the\nhouse, and effectually destroyed the influence of his opponents.\nStill, even if we attribute to any other feeling than fear of foreign\nintervention the measures adopted, they are not for that reason\nintrinsically enhanced in value, nor are they anything more than the\nmost the Italian government is capable or willing to do to protect\nthe power of the Pope.\n\nThat power, be it well understood, is in the eyes of the rulers of\nItaly merely a spiritual power, for the temporal, they consider,\nwas annihilated by the cannon that beat down the walls on the 20th\nof September, 1870, and by the pl\u00e9biscite of the 2d of October\nfollowing. How does this law of guarantees confirm the exercise of\nthat power? We shall see by referring to several of the articles, not\nquoting the law at length, as it has already appeared in the public\njournals.\n\nArticle II. says in the last clause: \"The discussion of religious\nquestions is entirely free.\"\n\nArticle III. says that the Sovereign Pontiff may have his guards\n\"without prejudice to the obligations and duties resulting from such\nguards, from the existing laws of the kingdom of Italy.\"\n\nArticle IV. contemplates the possibility of the government taking\nupon themselves the expenses of the museums and library of the\nPontifical palaces.\n\nArticle V. says these museums, library, collections of art and of\narch\u00e6ology, are \"_inalienable_.\"\n\nArticle VIII. forbids sequestration of papers _merely_ spiritual in\ntheir character.\n\nArticle XIII. declares that the ecclesiastical seminaries of Rome,\nand of the six suburban sees presided over by cardinals, are to\ncontinue subject to the Holy See, without any interference on the\npart of the _scholastic_ authorities of the kingdom.\n\nArticle XVI. says: \"The dispositions of the civil laws with regard\nto the creation and the manner of existence of ecclesiastical\ninstitutions, and the alienation of their property, remain in force.\"\n\nArticle XVII. The recognition of the juridical effects of the\nspiritual and disciplinary acts, as well as of any other act of the\necclesiastical authority, belongs to the civil jurisdiction. Such\nacts, however, are void of effect if contrary to the law of the state\nor to public order, or hurtful to the rights of private persons, and\nare subject to the penal laws if they constitute a crime.\n\nLet us take a cursory glance at these cullings from the \"guarantees,\"\nand see if they conflict at all with the spiritual power of the\nPontiff. Before the twentieth of September, 1870, the whole of the\ncity of Rome and the dependent provinces were presided over in\nspirituals by the Pope, and all of the inhabitants were Catholics,\nexcept a few Jews, treated with charity, though not allowed to make\nproselytes. By this decree the door is thrown open to every sect that\nchooses to come and try to proselytize the Roman people. They must\nsee as clearly as we do that the last clause of Article II. deals the\nmost powerful and insidious blow at the spiritual power of the Pope\nin spiritual matters, encouraging his people to spiritual defection,\nor at least lessening him in their esteem as a spiritual teacher.\nThis is too evident to need further dwelling on, and we pass to the\nnext indictment.\n\nThe Pope's guards are to protect him and execute his orders, but\ninasmuch as they are not on this account freed from the obligations\nof Italian citizens by the tenor of Article III., it is quite easy to\nunderstand how in the course of time elements of discord may arise;\nand therefore, in the use of his guards the Pope must conform to the\ncivil code of the kingdom of Italy, or take the consequences referred\nto further on.\n\nArticles IV. and V. regard the library and museums of the Vatican\nand of other palaces. The original draught of the project declared\nthese collections the property of the state. The criticism it excited\non this account brought about the modifications we have here, which\nsubstitute _inalienability_ for the asserted right of property,\nwithout adverting to the fact that such a modification implies\ndominion in the one making it, while there is contemplated a possible\ntaking on themselves by the government of the expenses of these\nmuseums that certainly points to the same idea.\n\nThe VIIIth Article forbids the sequestration of papers and documents\nof the ecclesiastical authorities _merely_ spiritual in their nature.\nThe inference is that any other documents not merely spiritual\nmay be sequestrated; and, as doubts may arise, who is to decide?\nCertainly not the church or the Pope, for he is the accused; there is\nno umpire; and a strong police force is at the beck of the Italian\ngovernment, and the question will be solved readily.\n\nThe XIIIth Article, regarding the ecclesiastical seminaries and\ncolleges, exempts them from the control of the _scholastic_\nauthorities, but, with regard to their temporal concerns, we are told\nin the XVIth Article they must be subject to the civil jurisdiction.\nWe leave it to our practical men of America to say whether or not\nthe man who holds the purse-strings and manages the funds has any\ninfluence on the people he pays or are paid through him. In the case\nbefore us the Italian civil authorities are those who pay, having in\nmany cases the full administration of the funds. We feel tempted to\nrefer to the case of the Roman College, the funds of which have been\nwithheld since the first of January, 1871.\n\nThe first draught of Article XVII. was too strong. It said openly:\nIn case of conflict between the civil and ecclesiastical powers,\nthe supreme civil tribunal of the kingdom was to decide. This was\ntoned down to suit better rather tender susceptibilities. The result\nwe have in the clause quoted above, which says the same thing in\nother words, and in stronger terms, if we look to the penal sanction\nreferred to. Here is the whole pith of the matter. \"As long as it\nis possible for us to get on without dispute,\" say the government,\n\"all well; but the moment a question arises, _we_ must solve it.\"\nMoreover, as the legislative authorities have made the law, they can\namend or alter it if they think proper, and there is and can be no\nguarantee that they will not.\n\nSuch are the disadvantages created by the vexed project, which from\nthe amount of discussion it has caused, deserves the title of the\n_Pons Asinorum_ of the Italian parliament.\n\nThere are several points in this law which have some title to be\nlooked on as advantages, relatively to the condition in which the\nSovereign Pontiff has been placed since the overthrow of his temporal\nsovereignty. These are the inviolability of the person of the\nSovereign Pontiff, the payment of the monthly sum of fifty thousand\ndollars, the protection of the Conclave as well as of the Pontiff\nin the discharge of duty, the immunity of ecclesiastics employed by\nhim, the postal and telegraphic arrangements, and the abolition of\nthe royal 'placet' and 'exequatur.' But it is to be remarked that,\non the first place, with regard to some the dignity of the Head of\nthe Church will not permit him to avail himself of them; then with\nreference to others, they are imperatively wrung from the Italian\ngovernment by the public opinion of foreign nations; while, lastly,\nrespecting others, the government will always have it in their power\nto exercise a surveillance that renders the concessions more or less\nnugatory, and in nowise satisfactory to the people of Catholic and\nnon-Catholic nations.\n\nBut independent of all the above reasons, there are intrinsic motives\nthat make any code of guarantees worth little more than the paper on\nwhich they are indited. All are agreed that the Head of the Church\nmust be independent; the Italian government acknowledges it, and\nCatholics and non-Catholics proclaim it throughout the world. In what\ndoes this necessary independence consist? It consists essentially in\nbeing free of undue influence from any source whatsoever. Now, such\nfreedom can be obtained only by restoring the Pope to the condition\nin which he was prior to the year 1860. For we can imagine the\nseveral other conditions in which the Pope might be placed.\n\nHe may continue as he is at the present moment.\n\nHe may be the privileged citizen of a Roman republic.\n\nHe may be the sovereign ruler of the city of Rome under the\nprotection of the Italian government together with other governments\nthroughout the world.\n\nNone of these conditions is a guarantee of his freedom.\n\nIn the first place, we suppose him to be in the condition in which\nhe is at the present moment. The reasons we have given above, the\npractical experience had of the protection given to the Pope and\nthose attached to him, the seizure of the encyclical, and other acts\nof which his eminence the Cardinal Secretary of State has complained\npublicly, the subjection a salary paid by the Italian government\nwould bring with it, and the general suspicion to which his acts are\nliable, from the influence of the powerful government under which\nhe lives--all make it impossible that this state of things should\ncontinue.\n\nNor is it possible that the Sovereign Pontiff should be the\nprivileged and protected member of a Roman republic. To tell the\ntruth, the present state of things is preferable to that. Republics,\nand particularly a Roman republic, are too liable to commotion, a\nmob is too easily excited to violence, a demagogue is too likely to\ngain great influence over this city, to make it at all advisable that\nthe Pontiff should have republicans for his neighbors. A prince has\nduties to his people, to his dynasty, and to other nations that check\nhim, and make him keep order in his realm; whereas the common people\nare restrained by no such consideration, and a clamorous hostile\ndemonstration, with a stoppage of supplies, would very probably be\nthe answer to any act of the Sovereign Pontiff that did not meet with\ntheir approbation. The vicissitudes of the days of Cola di Rienzi are\nthere to show how incompatible with the mobile masses of a republic\nis the necessarily unbending firmness of a moral ruler. Not much\nhappier than the foregoing is the idea proposed by the able deputy\nof the Italian parliament, Signor Toscanelli, who would have Rome\na free city under the sovereign control of the Sovereign Pontiff\nand protected by the Italian government. It would, practically\nspeaking, be impossible to eliminate all influence on the part of\nthe government protecting and closely in material contact with the\nRoman Curia. Even supposing that the maintenance of the Pope and\nhis dependents did not come from that government, it would not be\nadvisable or satisfactory. In this case, the money for the support\nof the ecclesiastical authorities would have to come from foreign\nnations. Although this would save the Sovereign Pontiff from much\nof his subjection to the rulers of Italy, it would still leave him\nsubject to influence of another kind very undesirable. The point is\na delicate one, but we will treat it with all due consideration for\nthose concerned. In legislating for mankind, you have no right to\nexpect heroic actions, and this more particularly if those actions\npertain to the supernatural order. This rule is to be applied to\nthe Sovereign Pontiffs as to every one else. To their great honor,\nthe Sovereign Pontiffs have stood nobly firm in the exercise of the\nduties of their exalted state; many a one has shed his blood for the\nfaith, many a one has languished in chains for the good of his flock,\nmany a one has braved the fury of crowned tyrants for the safety and\nwell-being of the church of Christ. But above all praise as their\nconduct has often been, you have no right to put them in a position\nthat requires the exercise of such heroic firmness. Now, what is\nthe condition of a Pope dependent on the precarious contributions\nof foreign nations for his support? It is one in which an external\ninfluence is continually at work to check him in the free and\nimpartial discharge of his duty; it is one in which he is continually\nforced to lay aside all human considerations of prudence and throw\nhimself with fulness of faith on Divine Providence. The position is a\nsublime one, but for that very reason no man or body of men have any\nright to place him in it. If he sees fit to condemn some cherished\nopinion in a nation, the people cool in their devotion to him, and as\nthe contributions of which we speak are voluntary, the disinclination\nto receive his decisions brings with it a disinclination to give\nspontaneously what had been so given before, and the direct\nconsequence of every pontifical act unacceptable is very likely\nto be a diminution in the funds that come in for the support of\nthe Pontiff; in fact, if we may be allowed the expression, these\ncontributions may be looked on as a kind of spiritual thermometer,\nthat by their rise or fall indicate the warmth or the coolness of\nfeeling towards the Pope. In point of fact, it is well known that\nnot a few prophesied, during the discussions of the question of the\ninfallibility in the past year, that the passing of the decree would\nbring about a decided falling off in the Peter Pence. Notwithstanding\nthis, the Sovereign Pontiff threw himself upon Providence, and his\nhope was not deceived. To the honor of Catholics throughout the world\nbe it said, the contributions of the Peter Pence of to-day exceed\nthose of all other epochs, and enable the Holy Father to administer\nto the most pressing wants of the flock over which he personally\nand directly presides. The hand of Providence is certainly here.\nSuch manifestations of Providence, however, as we have said, no\none has a right in legislating to look forward to, and therefore\nit is absolutely necessary that the Head of the Church should be\nthe sovereign of a small state, large enough to save him from the\nnecessity of tutelage, and yielding a yearly revenue sufficient to\nmaintain him and those he must have around him with the decorum due\nto his condition. To this it may be objected, that his subjects will\nbe deprived of many advantages enjoyed by free nations. We are very\nsceptical about these advantages; the progress of Rome under Pius IX.\nhas been solid and satisfactory; and, on the other hand, the Roman\nsubjects of the Pontiff will have many advantages to which other\nnations are often strangers: the advantage of light taxation, the\nadvantage of laws repressing immorality, the advantage of peace with\nits delightful arts, the advantage of an enlightened protection of\nscience and of the fine arts, and then the great material advantage\nof seeing their city the resort of the cultivated and wealthy classes\nof all nations, who flock to Rome to see the successor of St. Peter,\nand to enjoy the gorgeous and imposing ceremonial of the church.\nFor far less advantages than these we deprived the citizens of a\nportion of our country of the great privilege of their political\nfranchise; of all nations we should be the last to find fault with\nthe infliction of a similar disqualification, of much more apparent\nharm than real, and which is compensated for an hundredfold. And this\nwe say all the more earnestly because, in the case of Rome, it is not\nthe welfare of a collection of states that is provided for, but the\npeace and good order of all nations of the earth.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ROSE.\n\n\nIs there any portion of mankind that has not inhaled the sweet\nperfume of this lovely flower? From Borneo to the ruins of the\nParthenon; from Kamschatka to Bengal; from the neighborhood of\nHudson's Bay to the mountains of Mexico; from Cairo to the Cape of\nGood Hope, it graces the palace and the chamber, lavishes itself\nfull-leaved on the processions of Corpus Christi, and serves as a\npretty plaything to the child, who cracks the swollen petals on his\ninnocent forehead.\n\nOf it the Hebrews made their crowns, and in their solemnities the\nhigh-priest wreathed it around his head.\n\nWhen the Queen of Sheba visited Solomon, it is said, she tried every\nmeans to assure herself not only of his superior wisdom, but also of\nthe quickness of his perception. She placed before him one day two\nroses, one artificial, but so well made that she defied the king to\ndistinguish the false one from the real. He sent for a bee, which\nnaturally alighted on the true one, and thus, without approaching\neither, was able to give his decision.\n\nAmong the Hebrews, the bridegroom as well as the bride wore a crown\nof roses, of myrtle, or of olive.\n\nMythology assigns to the rose the most illustrious origin. At the\nmoment when Pallas came out of the brain of Jupiter, the earth\nproduced the rose, that delight might follow in the wake of wisdom.\nWhite at first, the poets have not quite agreed to what it owed its\nmany-purpled hues. We are told by some that the exquisite Adonis was\nmortally wounded by a boar, and that his flowing blood fell on the\nroses, and colored them for ever. According to others, Venus ran to\nprotect him, and the thorns and briers tore her lovely skin, and\nthe purple drops fell on a wild rose, dyed it, and consecrated it\nfor ever in her honor. Such a circumstance was scarcely necessary\nto make so perfect a flower sacred to the goddess of beauty. Some\nauthors say that in the midst of an Olympian f\u00eate the goddess Hebe\nspilled the embalmed vermilion nectar, and that the white roses\nspread their petals to receive the perfume and the color.\n\nMythology also relates that Love presented to Harpocrates, the god of\nsilence, the flower that no one had ever seen, and that consequently\nhad never revealed anything. Hence came the custom of suspending\na rose from the ceiling of the room where families assembled, in\norder that discretion, of which it was the symbol, might become the\nguarantee of the sacred security of all their conversations. _Sub\nrosa_ (under the rose) was a proverb that signified: We can speak\nfreely, without suspicion.\n\nVenus and Cupid were represented crowned with roses; so, also, Flora,\nthe goddess of flowers, and Comus, who presided at festivities.\n\nAgla\u00eb, the youngest of the Graces, carried the rosebud in her hand,\nthe attribute of youth and beauty.\n\nThe Graces, the Muses, and Bacchus also received their homage in\ncrowns of roses; their altars were hung with garlands, and those good\nold servants the Penates were sometimes decorated in like manner. Of\nall the flowers, the rose was dedicated to the greatest number of\ndivinities, although nearly all of them had some plant especially\nsacred.\n\nThe opening hour of day sowed roses in Aurora's path, who at sight\nof her father the sun wept tears of joy over her favorite flowers.\nSo the poets of antiquity explain the drops of dew that tremble and\nscintillate on the roses in the morning light. The rose designates\nthe dawn; and, bathed with dew, it is the emblem of filial piety.\n\nPeace is represented holding a rod of thorns with roses and olive\nbranches, and the muse Erato, when presiding over lyric poetry, was\nalways crowned with myrtle and the rose.\n\nThe appearance of Christianity gave to the rose another origin,\nand we cite the legend. Once, a holy virgin of Bethlehem, falsely\naccused and calumniated, was condemned to perish by fire. She prayed\nto our Lord, beseeching him to come to her aid, because he knew she\nwas not guilty of what they reproached her with. The fire went out\nimmediately; the burning fagots were transformed into red-rose bushes\ncovered with flowers, and those that were not lit into white ones.\nThese roses were the first ever seen, and became from that time the\nflower of the martyrs.\n\nThe rose appeared at a very distant epoch as the emblem of the\nVirgin; it was particularly recognized as such by St. Dominic, when\nhe instituted the devotion of the rosary, in direct allusion to the\nlife of holy Mary.\n\nPrayer appears always to have been symbolized by roses. There is a\nstory told of a servant who, having to carry an immense amount of\ntreasure belonging to his master through a wood, was there awaited\nby a band of robbers. On entering the forest, he remembered that he\nhad that morning omitted his Ave Marias, so he knelt down to say\nthem. As he prayed, the Virgin placed a beautiful garland on his\nhead, to which at each Ave she added a rose. The brilliancy around\nhim became intense, and the whole wood was illuminated. The good man\nknew nothing of his beautiful crown of roses, but the robbers saw the\nvision and let him pass unharmed.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    THE DIVINE LITURGY OF ST. JOHN CHRYSOSTOM. Translated\n    by H. C. Romanoff. London, Oxford, and Cambridge:\n    Rivingtons. 1871.\n\nThis is a neat little book, translated, by a Russian, from the\noriginal Greek. The catechism contained in the front is so very\nancient and Catholic that it will be a difficult task indeed for\nthose members of the Protestant Episcopal Church in England and\nAmerica who dream of union with the Greek schism, ever to reconcile\nit with the catechism that begins, \"What is your name? N. or M.\"\n\nThere is a note at the bottom of page 79, to the effect that, when\nthe priest signs the elements and says the words, \"And make this\nbread to be thy Holy Body, and what is in this cup to be thy Holy\nBlood,\" it is supposed that the consecration takes place, or, as the\ntranslator says, _transubstantiation_. This is an error invented\nby the modern Greeks and introduced by one Nicholas Cabasilas,\ncontrary to the Council of Florence and to all Catholic tradition.\nFor it is the universal teaching and belief that the consecration or\ntransubstantiation takes place when the priest does what Christ did,\nand says the very same words that Christ said: \"This is my body; this\nis my blood.\" That is the _form_ of the sacrament of the Eucharist.\nThe ritualists object to the Roman vestments on the ground that they\nare not of the ancient shape. We would like them to look at page\n18, and answer this question: Which is the more like the ancient\nvestment--the Roman or the Greek? Any candid man would answer that\nthe former is. The Greek chasubles are cut away in front, the Roman\nat the sides. However, we hope that the day will soon come when\nthese good people will learn that the essence of religion does not\nconsist in the shape of a chasuble or the cut of a cope, but rather\nin a childlike obedience to that Infallible Authority which is able\nto regulate matters of discipline and worship as well as to define\nmatters of faith and morals.\n\n\n    THE HOLY COMMUNION, ETC. By Hubert Lebon. Translated\n    from the French by M. A. Garnett. Baltimore: John\n    Murphy. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n    1871.\n\nA delicious book for those who are favored with sensible devotion to\nthe Blessed Sacrament, while, at the same time, it is so solid that\nthose who are less favored will find much of it very profitable.\n\n\n    THE ILLUSTRATED CATHOLIC SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY. Fourth\n    Series. 6 vols. New York: The Catholic Publication\n    Society. 1871.\n\nThe contents of this series are as follows: \"Tales of Catholic\nArtists;\" \"Honor O'More's Three Homes;\" \"Sir \u00c6lfric, and other\nTales;\" \"Select Tales for the Young;\" \"Tales for the Many;\" and\n\"Frederic Wilmot.\"\n\nThese are very far removed from those tales, selected at haphazard,\ntoo often to be met with in libraries for the young which are\njuvenile but in name, the compilers of which are apparently\nignorant of the fact that as much depends on judicious selection\nas careful rejection. In external appearance, paper, typography,\nbinding, and illustration, we have also displayed, in miniature, the\ndistinguishing characteristic of the works issued by the Publication\nSociety, liberality of expenditure limited only by the suggestions of\ngood taste. But, while thus equal in every respect to the preceding\nsets, and coming, too, most opportunely just in time for the annual\ndistributions, there is to this series one great drawback which the\nreviewer may, but our boys and girls certainly cannot, overlook--it\ncontains six volumes only; each of the preceding sets contained\ntwelve.\n\n\n    THE STATE OF THE DEAD. By the Rev. Anson West.\n    Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1871.\n\nThe only \"dead\" on whose \"state\" this work throws any light are those\nwho, like the author, are dead to the grace of humility. \"Fathers,\ncouncils, creeds, and decrees,\" says he, \"are of no account and of no\nauthority in establishing the doctrines of divine truth\"--(Preface,\np. ix.) \"We have ignored these,\" he adds, \"and have _deferred to no\none_\" (_sic_). And so, forsooth, his own \"ipse dixit,\" the complacent\n\"we deny\" with which he quashes an argument, _are_ \"of account and\nauthority in establishing the doctrines of divine truth.\" \"Divine\ntruth,\" indeed! What can he know of that, entombed as he is in his\nown self-sufficiency?\n\n\n    LIFE OF THE MOST REV. OLIVER PLUNKET. By the Rev.\n    Patrick Moran, D.D. 8vo, pp. 396. New York: P. O'Shea.\n    1871.\n\nThis abridged edition of the life, sufferings, and execution of the\ncelebrated Archbishop of Armagh, taken from the larger work of the\nsame author published in Ireland some years ago, will be found, from\nits intrinsic merits and portable form, to be a favorite and popular\nbook among the mass of American Catholics. Though relating, in a\nconcise manner, the leading facts in the life of that persecuted\nprimate, it is necessarily deficient in many of the features which\nmade Monsignor Moran's original memoir so valuable an addition to\nthe historical annals of the reign of the Second Charles of England.\nThe voluminous correspondence of Dr. Plunket with the Internunzio\nat Brussels and the Secretary of the Propaganda; his reports on\nthe condition of ecclesiastical affairs in Ireland from 1670 till\nwithin a short time of his death; and the decrees of the general\nand provincial synods convoked by him, all of which are very fully\nreproduced in the original book, are totally or partially omitted\nin the compendium before us. Still, we are glad to see an authentic\naccount of the piety, learning, and heroism of the illustrious\nvictim of Protestant intolerance placed within the reach of all who\nreverence his memory, and especially of those who feel proud in being\nable to call him their countryman.\n\n\n    THE TRUCE OF GOD. A Tale of the Eleventh Century. By\n    George H. Miles. 1 vol., 16mo. Baltimore: John Murphy &\n    Co. 1871.\n\nThe contest between Pope Gregory VII. and Henry IV. of Germany\nforms the groundwork of this delightful story, which abounds with\ninteresting descriptions of feudal times, and gives us, with charming\nsimplicity, the details of the daily religious life of the people of\nthose \"dark ages,\" so luminous with the light of faith.\n\nThe character of the intrepid, patient Hildebrand is drawn with a\nskilful hand, and reminds us that persecution has ever been the lot\nof the faithful Vicar of Christ.\n\nThe pleasing title of the book brings to our remembrance the fact\nthat the church of God in those days sanctified to peace a portion\nof every week, beginning at sunset on Wednesday and continuing till\nMonday morning. All private warfare was forbidden during these days,\nunder pain of excommunication.\n\nThis precept mingles with the thread of the story, which is both\nattractive and instructive, leaving upon the mind and heart a most\nagreeable impression.\n\nThe mechanical portion of the book is beautifully executed, and we\nare delighted to see that all the books got out this season by Mr.\nMurphy are in the same elegant style.\n\n\n    THE HISTORY OF GREECE. By Professor Dr. Ernst Curtius.\n    Translated by A. W. Ward, M.A., Fellow of St. Peter's\n    College, Cambridge, and Professor of History in Owens\n    College, Manchester. Vol. I. New York: Scribner. 1871.\n\nEvery scholar knows how learned Germans write history. Dr. Curtius\nranks with Mommsen as a historian, and his _History of Greece_, of\nwhich this volume is the first instalment, is to be classed with the\n_History of Rome_ by the latter author. We believe that it has the\nadvantage over it of being complete, and, moreover, its subject is\neven more interesting to students and men of letters. It is brought\nout in a style of excellence similar to that of Mommsen's _History_,\nleaving nothing in that respect to be desired. We hope that the\ndemand for works of this kind may be sufficient to induce some one of\nour great publishing-houses to favor the public with a translation\nof Leo's _Universal History_, which is the masterpiece of German\nhistorical works.\n\n\n    MARTYRS OMITTED BY FOXE: Being Records of Religious\n    Persecutions in the 16th and 17th Centuries. Compiled\n    by a Member of the English Church. With a Preface by\n    the Rev. Frederick G. Lee, D.C.L., F.S.A., Vicar of All\n    Saints', Lambeth. London: John Hodges. 1870.\n\nThis is a singular and a singularly interesting little volume. It is\nAnglican, as the title shows; yet, strange to say, it is made up of\nbrief but well-written and affectionate memorials of More, Campion,\nArundel, Plunket, and a number of other illustrious martyrs of the\nCatholic faith and the supremacy of the Roman Church in England\nand Ireland. It is a book which we can unhesitatingly recommend to\nCatholics as well as Protestants, and which we should rejoice to see\nextensively circulated. We cherish the most unbounded veneration for\nthese heroic martyrs, and ardently long for the time when they may\nbe solemnly canonized by the authority of that Holy See for whose\nrights they suffered torments and death. The author has our thanks\nfor his pious tribute to the sacred and holy memory of these blessed\nvictims of Protestant English cruelty. May it help to bring England\nto a penitent recognition of their merits, and bring a blessing from\nGod to himself.\n\n\n    THE AMERICAN ANNUAL CYCLOP\u00c6DIA AND REGISTER OF\n    IMPORTANT EVENTS OF THE YEAR 1870. Vol. X. New York: D.\n    Appleton & Co. 1871.\n\nThis volume of _Appleton's Cyclop\u00e6dia_ is certainly, at least\nconsidered as a register of current events, of unusual interest.\nNo recent year has witnessed events in Europe of such importance\nas have occurred in 1870; and the accounts given of them are\nsufficiently full. Of course they have been carefully prepared,\nand are interesting from the nature of the case. So far as we have\nnoticed, the proper scope of such a publication has been well\nobserved, plain statements of facts being given without comment or\napparent prejudice. The statement of the preface, however, that by\nthe overthrow of the temporal sovereignty of the Pope, \"liberalism\nand authority have been brought to a final issue before the world,\"\nis somewhat objectionable; as is also, and in a much higher degree,\nthe introduction of a portrait of the wretched man who, unfortunately\nfor himself as well as others, is the nominal head of the Italian\nkingdom, for a frontispiece. Portraits are also given of two really\ndistinguished and remarkable men, Generals Von Moltke and Robert E.\nLee.\n\nThe results of the United States census of 1870 are given, and full\ninformation as to the present condition and growth of each state. The\nscientific information is on the whole valuable and accurate. In the\npresent intense activity of research in this field, it is of course\nimpossible to admit into a work of this kind everything of interest\nand importance, and nothing besides, and a better selection could\nhardly have been made. The volume is very creditable to its able and\nenterprising publishers.\n\n\n    WONDERS OF EUROPEAN ART. By Louis Viardot. Illustrated.\n    1 vol. 16mo. New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1871.\n\nWe have so often spoken in praise of the volumes of this series,\nknown as \"The Library of Wonders,\" that it is with regret we are\ncompelled, as in the case of the present volume, to condemn any\nof them. But such books as these need careful editing, and in the\nvolume before us this has evidently been neglected; for on page 88\nwe find \"the idolatries of the Catholic Church,\" as well as similar\nexpressions elsewhere, that unfit it for circulation amongst our\nCatholic youth. We would most respectfully suggest to the publishers\na little more care in future volumes, if they desire to have these\nbooks placed in Catholic libraries, or given as school and college\npremiums, for both of which they are, otherwise, admirably adapted.\n\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society has in press, and will soon publish:\n_The Life of Mother Julia_, foundress of the Sisters of Notre Dame.\n_Familiar Instructions on Mortal Prayer._ By the Abb\u00e9 Courbon.\nTranslated from the French, and edited by Rev. W. T. Gordon, of\nthe Oratory, London. _Light in Darkness: A Treatise on the Obscure\nNight of the Soul._ By Rev. A. F. Hewit. THE ILLUSTRATED CATHOLIC\nFAMILY ALMANAC FOR 1872. A _Life of Mother Margaret Mary Hallahan_,\nabridged. A new edition of _Mylius's History of England_, continued\ndown to the present day and adapted for schools. _Gahan's Church\nHistory_, a new edition, continued down to the present time.\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society will also soon publish in one\nhandsome volume _The Pictorial Bible and Church History Stories_,\nbeing a compendious narrative of sacred history, brought down to\nthe present times of the church, by Rev. Henry Formby. It will be\ncopiously illustrated from designs by the most eminent artists, and\nwill be sold at a price so as to place it within the reach of every\nCatholic family in the United States.\n\n\nWe have just received from Messrs. Murphy & Co. an advance copy of\n_Patron Saints_, by Miss Starr.\n\n\nBOOKS RECEIVED.\n\n    From THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, New York: A\n    History of the Christian Councils; from the Original\n    Documents, to the close of the Council of Nic\u00e6a,\n    A.D. 325. By Charles Joseph Hefele, D.D., Bishop\n    of Rottenburg, etc. Translated from the German by\n    W. R. Clark, M.A. Oxon. 1 vol. 8vo.--The Priest on\n    the Mission: A Course of Lectures on Missionary and\n    Parochial Duties. By Frederick Canon Oakley, M.A. 1\n    vol. 12mo.\n\n    From P. F. CUNNINGHAM, Philadelphia: The Acts of the\n    Early Martyrs. By J. A. M. Fastr\u00e9, S.J. First Series\n    and Second Series. 2 vols. 12mo.\n\n    From J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., Philadelphia: Hesperia. By\n    Cora L. V. Tappan.--Thistledown. By Esmeralda Boyle.\n\n    From BENZIGER BROS., New York: Euchiridion Sacerdotum\n    Curam Animarum Agentum. Compilatum a L. B. V. M.\n    Moczygemba.\n\n    From P. O'SHEA, New York: The Catholic Youth's Hymn\n    Book; containing hymns of the seasons and festivals\n    of the year, and an extensive collection of sacred\n    melodies; to which are added an easy Mass, Vespers,\n    and Mottets for Benediction. Arranged, with a special\n    view to the wants of Catholic schools, by the Christian\n    Brothers.\n\n    From CHARLES SCRIBNER & CO., New York: Common Sense in\n    the Household: A Manual of Practical Housewifery. By\n    Marion Harland.\n\n    From P. J. KENEDY, New York: The Life of St. Mary of\n    Egypt; to which is added The Life of St. Cecilia and\n    The Life of St. Bridget.\n\n    From LEE & SHEPARD, Boston: The Model Prayer: A Course\n    of Lectures on the Lord's Prayer. By George C. Baldwin,\n    D.D., author of \"Representative Women,\" etc.\n\n    From ROBERTS BROS., Boston: Ad Clerum: Advice to a\n    Young Preacher. By Jos. Parker, D.D., author of \"Ecce\n    Deus.\"\n\n    From J. MURPHY & CO., Baltimore: The Child's Prayer and\n    Hymn Book, for the use of Catholic Sunday-schools.\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 77.--AUGUST, 1871.[143]\n\n\nINFALLIBILITY.\n\n\nWe propose to treat this topic in a manner somewhat different from\nthe ordinary one, and which may seem indirect and circuitous. We\nhope to come to the point more securely in this way than by the more\ndirect road, and to drive before us the whole body of outlying,\nstraggling difficulties and objections. In particular, we intend to\nplace in a clear, intelligible light the nature, purport, and ground\nof the recent definition of the Council of the Vatican, which has\nmade the infallibility of the Roman Pontiff an article of faith.\nIt is for this purpose that we have taken up the general topic of\ninfallibility; and the reason for discussing this general topic\nrather than the exclusive question of Papal infallibility alone is,\nthat the latter cannot be properly explained except in its relation\nto the former. The infallibility of the church is a more general\nand extensive idea than the infallibility of the Pope. In the order\nof time, it was prior to it in the minds of the great mass of the\nfaithful as a certain truth of the divine revelation, and it was\nbefore it as an article of explicit Catholic faith. The precise\npoint which many persons have not clearly understood has been, how\nit could have been less clearly known and less explicitly believed\nby a number of good Catholics before the Council of the Vatican than\nafter it, especially considering its very great practical importance.\nThey are puzzled to think that it was not an article of universal,\nexplicit faith always, as much as the infallibility of the church.\nOr, in few and plain words, they do not understand how a council\ncould define it as an article of faith which must be believed as\na condition of Catholic communion, when it had not been always\nproposed as an article of faith, with the obligation of believing\nand professing it, to all the faithful everywhere. If it is a new\ndogma, how can it be a part of the old Catholic faith handed down\nfrom the apostles, and what authority has a council to create a new\ndogma? If it is an old dogma, how could the denial of its certain,\ninfallible truth have been tolerated, and the judgment of a council\nmake this denial now, for the first time, to become a heresy, to\nwhich the penalty of an anathema is affixed? The answer to these\nquestions is plain enough to any one who has a moderate knowledge\nof the elements of theology. No council can create a dogma which is\nnew, in the sense of being a new doctrine, or a new revelation. The\nnew definitions of the Council of the Vatican are definitions of old\ntruths, old doctrines, revealed by Jesus Christ and the apostles,\nand contained in Scripture and tradition. But some of the truths\nproposed by these definitions, although old doctrines, and contained\nin the original deposit of faith, are new dogmas in this sense, that\nthey are more explicit statements of truths implicitly contained in\ndogmas previously defined or declared, and that they are now newly\nproposed under this more precise and extended form to the faithful,\nas revealed doctrines, with the obligation of receiving them as\narticles of faith. The dogma of the infallibility of the Roman\nPontiff was contained implicitly in the dogma of the infallibility\nof the church, and in the dogma, long since explicitly defined, of\nthe Papal supremacy; in Scripture and tradition also; and in the\ngeneral teaching of the schools of theology, in a more distinct and\nexpress form. Wherefore, as we have said, it is useful and important\nto show how it is contained in and related to the general principles\nof the essential constitution and infallibility of the church, as\nwell as to make an exposition of the specific proofs of its truth as\na distinct doctrine from the Scripture, the fathers, and the general\nteaching which has prevailed in the church. In this way, a Catholic,\nto whom new truths, or truths less clearly and certainly known than\nothers, have been proposed as a part of the Catholic faith by the\nCouncil of the Vatican, will see that his ideas are not changed but\nenlarged, and enlarged not by an addition of extrinsic matter, but by\nthe growth and development within his own mind of the faith which he\nalready possessed in its integrity.\n\nLet us begin by defining and clearly comprehending the term\n_infallibility_. It is a negative term in its literal meaning.\nFallible means liable to err. Infallible means not liable to err;\nand infallibility is the exemption from liability to error. When we\nsay that the church is infallible, we say, in strictness of meaning,\nthat the church is not liable to err. Her infallibility is some\nkind of immunity from error, which is one of her essential notes.\nThis immunity from error evidently implies some sort of unerring\npossession of truth, and therefore denotes a positive quality or\nprerogative, as is frequently the case with terms of a negative\nform. What it denotes in Catholic theology we will explain more\nfully as we proceed. The positive idea, in which the general notion\nof infallibility has its foundation, is one of the first principles\nnot only of Catholic theology, but of all theology and philosophy.\nThe unerring and certain possession of some eternal and universal\ntruths is, and must be, affirmed by all who profess that man has or\ncan have the knowledge of God and of the relation of his own soul\nto him, whether by reason or revelation; that is, by all except\nsceptics. With sceptics we wish to have nothing to do, for they are\nnot entitled to be treated as rational beings. Every rational man\nwill admit that there is such a thing as wisdom, and that the wise\nman possesses it, and therefore knows something in the order of\nrational truth. St. Augustine has proved this in a most subtle and\nconclusive manner in his short treatise, _Against the Academicians_,\nthe earliest of his published works, written while he was preparing\nfor baptism. The wise man, he proves, cannot have the notion of\nprobability or verisimilitude, unless he has the idea of truth. He\nknows, at least, that there is such a thing as truth, otherwise he\ncould not affirm in a reasonable manner that anything is probably\nin conformity with truth, that is, appears to be true, or resembles\ntruth, which is the meaning of verisimilitude. Moreover, every man\nis forced to admit the certain truth of a number of disjunctive\npropositions. \"I am certain that the world is either one or not, and\nif not one, either a finite or an infinite number. Also, that this\nworld has its order, from a merely physical law of nature, or some\nhigher power; that it either is without beginning or end, or else\nhas a beginning and no end, or had no beginning but will have an\nend, and numberless other things of the same kind.\"[144] In the same\nmanner, we may say: Either the visible world is an illusion or real;\neither God exists or he does not exist; Christianity is either true\nor false; either Catholicity is genuine or counterfeit Christianity;\neither the existence of God, the truth of the Catholic religion, the\ninfallibility of the Catholic Church, can be proved with certitude,\nor they cannot be proved. These disjunctive propositions can be\nmultiplied indefinitely, and they are only different examples of\nthat principle of logic called the principle of contradiction,\nwhich it is impossible for any one seriously and intelligently to\ndeny or even to doubt. Reason, therefore, forces us to affirm that\nwe know something with unerring certainty, that is, that the human\nintellect is at least to this limited extent exempt from liability\nto deception or error, and, so far, infallible. The only possible\ndispute in philosophy or theology relates to the subject and extent\nof infallibility. What truths are known or knowable with infallible\ncertitude, and where is the infallibility seated which gives this\ncertitude?\n\nEvery man who affirms that God obliges the human conscience to\ngive a firm and undoubting assent to certain truths, and to obey\ncertain moral rules, must admit that he also gives the means of\nknowing with unerring certainty these truths and moral rules. Even\nthe probabilist cannot escape this. For he who would act safely on\na probable conscience must have a reflex certainty that he does not\nsin in doing so. If we are bound to assent to truth, and to obey\nlaw, of which we have only probable evidence, and this obligation is\ncertain, we must know with certainty that we are subjectively acting\nin a right manner in giving our assent and obedience. A philosopher\nwho affirms that we have certain knowledge of this truth and this\nlaw is, of course, a more strict infallibilist than the other. Yet\nthe principle is in common. When a man affirms that God has made a\npositive revelation, and that in his revelation he has disclosed\ntruths and promulgated laws which he binds the conscience of every\none to whom they are proposed to believe and obey, he extends the\nprinciple of infallibility much further. If I am to believe these\ntruths, especially such as are above reason, with a firm, undoubting\nassent, and to be held bound to keep these laws, especially such\nas are hard to keep, the revelation must be made to my mind in\nsuch a manner as to give me certainty, without any fear of error.\nWhoever admits this must assent also to the following disjunctive\nproposition: Either the revelation of God is made known to the\nindividual mind through the medium of the Catholic Church, or in some\nother way. We are not concerned at present to prove the proposition\nthat the revelation is made known through the church as a medium. Our\nargument is immediately directed to those who admit and believe it\nalready. Therefore, leaving aside all discussion with those who are\nnot Christians or not Catholics, we merely affirm, as a consequence\nfrom what has been proved, that the principle of infallibility, so\nfar as Christian faith is concerned, is seated in the church as the\nmedium of divine revelation. With us Catholics it is unquestioned\nthat the church is that visible society whose supreme head is the\nPope. Our only object of investigation is the nature, extent, and\nmore precise seat of that infallibility which the church possesses as\nthe depository of divine revelation, and the medium of communicating\nit to individual minds.\n\nThe church is infallible. To make more plain the meaning of this\nproposition, let us go back once more to the etymology of the term\ninfallible. The Latin word from which it is derived is _fallo_,\nsignifying _deceive_. Infallible signifies incapable of being\ndeceived or deceiving. The church, as infallible, cannot be deceived\nor deceive, respecting that body of truth which has been deposited\nin her by the apostles, and which they received from Jesus Christ\nand the Holy Spirit. The positive and fundamental truth from which\nthis negative statement of the inerrancy of the church is derived,\nand which it protects, is, that the church, as a visible, organized\nsociety, is the immediate recipient of a certain divine revelation,\nand the medium of its transmission and communication. This divine\nrevelation must be accepted and believed with a firm assent,\nexcluding all doubt, by each individual. It is a revelation of dogmas\nand doctrines, some of which are mysteries above reason, and of laws\nwhich are strictly obligatory. Each individual must receive the\nfaith and law from the church, of which he is a member by baptism,\nwith unquestioning submission and obedience of the intellect and\nwill. But this entire, unreserved faith and obedience could not be\njustly exacted, unless the church were divinely enabled to impart\npure, unmixed truth, and to prescribe pure, unmixed holiness to her\nmembers, and divinely secured from imparting or prescribing error\nor sin. Authority and obligation are correlative in nature and\nextent. As is the obligation, so is the authority. If the obligation\nis universal and without reserve, the authority is sovereign and\nsupreme. If the obligation requires an absolute, undoubting assent\nof the mind, and a divine faith, the authority must be infallible.\nWhoever is bound to unconditional assent must be secured in immunity\nfrom error in believing. Whoever is authorized to command assent\nmust be secured in immunity from error in teaching. Supreme and\nsovereign authority in teaching, and absolute obedience in receiving\nwhat is taught, require and exact, as a necessary condition,\ninerrancy in that society which is constituted on the principle of\nthis authority and its correlative obedience. The fundamental idea\nof the Catholic Church, therefore, contains in it that passive and\nactive infallibility which belongs to the hierarchy and the faithful\nas composing one body under their head, the Roman Pontiff. Wherever\ndivine and Catholic faith, or certain knowledge derived from faith,\nand the obligation of unreserved, complete assent and obedience, are\nfound, there is the passive infallibility of the church. Wherever\nsupreme teaching authority is found, commanding this obedience,\ndeclaring or defining this faith, or revealed doctrine, or certain\ntruth derived from and depending on it, there is the church's active\ninfallibility in exercise. The influence of those gifts of the Holy\nGhost by which the church is rendered infallible pervades the whole\nbody of the church, and manifests itself in the most multiform\nways. The church is living and immortal. Her life is divine and\nsupernatural, and its principle is faith. The faith is, therefore,\nthe principle of an immortal life, and itself an immortal principle\nwithin the church. Like the principle of animal vitality, it is found\nin every part of the organization, but vitalizing each organ and\nmember in a different way, according to its function. Brain, heart,\nlungs, and fingers are vitalized by the same principle, although each\none fulfils a special office. So in the church, the supreme head, the\nhierarchy, the laity, are animated by the same divine principle of\nfaith, and concur in the general functions of the great organic unit,\nbut each in his own place and in a special office. The result of\ntheir combined and complex action is the perpetuation of the divine\nrevelation in all times and places until the end of the world. We\nhave to consider, therefore, a great many other constituent parts,\norgans, and members of the body of the church, as well as the head,\nin order to understand the relation which the head bears to them and\nthey to it, and the manner in which its special function influences\nand is influenced by the other functions. We can do this only in a\nbrief and imperfect manner in a short essay, but we will endeavor to\ntouch upon some of the principal parts of this great and extensive\nsubject in a manner sufficient for our purpose.\n\nThe revelation which proceeded from the Incarnate Word of God was\ndiffused, in a great variety of ways, by the apostles, and committed\nto a great number of various channels for transmission through the\ncoming ages. They gave it to the faithful by their preaching, they\nembodied it in the hierarchy, in the sacraments, in the creed, in the\nliturgy, in fasts and festivals, in rites, ceremonies, and worship.\nThey taught it to their companions and successors in the episcopate\nin the most complete and thorough manner. They committed it to\nwriting, in great part, in their inspired scriptures, and gave their\nsanction to other books written under divine inspiration by those who\nwere not apostles. To use a figure, there are many great rivers by\nwhich the inspired and divine doctrines of the apostles flow through\nall parts of the world, and through all the succeeding periods of\ntime. The great sources of these rivers are, nevertheless, but two:\nScripture and tradition. The Holy Scripture is infallible, as well\nthe Old Testament, which is proposed anew to Christians by the\nchurch, as the New Testament, in which the clearer and more complete\nrevelation is contained. Apostolic tradition is infallible, and\ntherefore Catholic tradition, which is an unerring transmission of\nit, is also infallible. The written and oral teaching of the apostles\nhas come down to us by the numerous great rivers and the smaller\nnumberless rivulets of Catholic tradition, irrigating the fields and\ngardens of the church, and opening the way to intellectual communion\nbetween different countries and centuries. These streams can be\ntraced back to their sources by the student. The single doctrines\nof faith and theology can be traced one by one, and the whole body\nof doctrines, as a complete system, can be followed up, through the\nexpositions, meditations, and commentaries of saints, doctors, and\nfathers of the church, to the Holy Scripture. In the same way, the\nstudent can go back to the original tradition. He is not restricted\nto one line of argument or evidence, for there are many converging\nlines, each one more or less certain and sufficient by itself, and\nall, taken together, irresistibly and overwhelmingly conclusive and\nconvincing. One who is not able to make an investigation of this\nkind may, nevertheless, be competent to understand the general and\nequally conclusive argument from prescription. He may know enough of\nhistory to be aware that the principal doctrines of the faith were\nuniversally held in the tenth century, still further back in the\nfifth, and before that, indefinitely, without any record of a change,\nor any adequate cause for such general consent, except the teaching\nof the apostles.\n\nNot only are the Scriptures and apostolic tradition infallible\nsources of doctrine which is unerringly transmitted, but the\ngeneral sense and belief of the faithful is also infallible. The\nfaithful have received from the beginning the teaching of the divine\nrevelation by a supernatural sense, a divine gift of faith, so that\nthe revelation has not remained merely extrinsically proposed to\nthem, but also received and appropriated by them, in a living manner,\nthrough the inward operation of the Holy Spirit in their minds. This\nsense of the faithful is even one of the motives of the definitions\nmade by popes and councils. It was consulted by Pius IX. when he was\npreparing to make his decree respecting the Immaculate Conception,\nand it was recognized at the Council of the Vatican as expressed in\nthe numerous petitions for the definition of papal infallibility. The\nbody of the faithful cannot lose the faith, or any part of it, or\nembrace any heresy as belonging to faith. Their unanimous consent in\ndoctrine is an infallible evidence of the true faith in itself, and a\nnote of the true religion. The body of the church is immortal in the\nlife of faith, and indefeasible in its supernatural existence, and\ntherefore infallible, as well as the head. It cannot separate from\nits head in doctrine. The universal recognition of the Pope by the\nchurch makes it infallibly certain that he is the true and legitimate\nPope, and the universal acceptance of a council as \u0153cumenical makes\nit infallibly certain that it is a true council, although it be\ncertain also, on other infallible motives, that Pope and council are\nlegitimate. The want of this universal recognition caused for many\nyears the legitimacy of certain popes to be doubtful in a large part\nof Christendom, and of course made the authority of their decrees\ndoubtful, and would have made the authority of any council convoked\nby them as a general council also doubtful. It was the unanimous\nagreement of the whole church in recognizing Martin V. as the true\nsuccessor of St. Peter, which gave to all the faithful certainty that\nhe was their lawful head. If a Catholic had no other evidence that\nthe dogmatic decree of Pius IX. declaring the Immaculate Conception\na doctrine of faith, and the decrees of the Vatican Council defining\nthe infallibility of the Pope, are valid and binding, except the\nuniversal profession of the faithful that they believe these\ndoctrines with a divine and Catholic faith, that alone would be\nsufficient to give him infallible certainty.\n\nThe infallibility of the church in this general sense, which is an\nattribute of the whole body or visible society, includes and exacts\nthe infallibility of the teaching and ruling hierarchy in a special\nand particular sense, which is also capable of an independent proof\nof its own. The faithful are subject to the hierarchy and dependent\non it for the sacraments, for regulation, and for instruction.\nAll that life which is diffused throughout the body must exist\nin a more immediate and intense action in its highest organs.\nAn infallible church cannot be subject to a fallible teaching\nauthority. The apostles were infallible witnesses, teachers, and\njudges, in respect to the faith and everything connected with it,\nas the original founders of the church under the Lord Jesus Christ,\nby whom they were immediately commissioned. The church was made\ninfallible by participation with them, as they were made infallible\nby participation with Christ, who was himself infallible as the Son\nof God. The authority of officially declaring the testimony of the\nchurch, of teaching authoritatively its doctrine, of judging in all\ncontroversies, and of punishing all delinquents, was left by the\napostles to their successors the bishops; and the special authority\nof St. Peter, as the Vicar of Christ, was transmitted by him to his\nsuccessors in the See of Rome. In their prophetical office, as the\nimmediate organs of the revelation of the Holy Spirit, they left no\nsuccessors, for when the faith and law of Christ were once fully\nrevealed, the necessity of this office ceased. But their official\ninfallibility was, of necessity, perpetuated in that episcopal\norder which inherited the hierarchical dignity and authority of\nthe Apostolic College. The church is infallible in teaching and\njudging, as well as in keeping and professing the deposit of faith,\nand accepting what is taught by lawful authority. Every Catholic\nknows this to be a fundamental doctrine of the faith. But it is the\n_Ecclesia Docens_, the church or assembly of prelates, which is meant\nin this proposition. There is no infallibility in fathers, doctors,\ntheologians, priests, or the faithful generally, which is separate\nfrom or independent of the authority of the episcopate. Even bishops\nwho separate from the unity of their order by revolting against its\nsupreme chief, lose all their authority. No matter how many bishops,\npriests, and laymen separate from this unity, their whole number\nis of no more account than if there were but one, since they are\ntotally cut off from the church. Tertullian, Apollinaris, Cranmer,\nLuther, the whole mass of Oriental schismatics and other seceders,\ncount for nothing. Those who revolt from the unity of the church lose\nthe grace of faith, and have no longer any share in the church's\ninfallibility. The consent of fathers, doctors, theologians, and of\nthe faithful is infallible, because it represents Catholic tradition,\nwhich is itself a reflection or image of the authoritative teaching\nof the apostles and their successors. There is no contradiction\nor dissension possible in truth, but only in error. In how may\nways soever the truth infallibly manifests itself, these various\nmanifestations must always agree with each other. In order that the\nofficial teaching and judgments of the episcopate may always agree\nwith Scripture, tradition, with each other, with the teaching of\nfathers, theologians, doctors, and the consent of the faithful, they\nmust be infallible. All alike being infallible, they must agree. No\nindividual, or number of individuals, therefore, can be qualified\nto cite either Scripture or tradition against the authority of the\nchurch, any more than to cite the authority of one apostle against\nthat of another apostle. To do this, is merely to oppose private\njudgment, individual opinion, to public, official, and authoritative\njudgment, which is destructive of the very principle of authority\nand organization. The supreme teacher and judge must decide in all\ndoubtful and disputed cases, without appeal, what is the doctrine and\nlaw, what is the sense of Scripture, the witness of tradition, the\ndoctrine of the fathers, the common belief of the faithful.\n\nFrom this final and decisive authority, and the correlative\nobligation of obedience, we derive another and most cogent proof,\nthat wherever sovereignty in the order of ideas or doctrinal\nsupremacy resides in the church, it must be there that the active\ninfallibility of the church is principally seated. A supreme and\nfinal judgment or decree must be an infallible judgment. It is\nirretractible, irreformable, irreversible. The church is committed to\nit, and bound by it for ever, and that by the law of God. It must be,\ntherefore, the absolute truth, and whatever tribunal is qualified to\npronounce it to be so, and to exact unlimited assent and obedience\nfrom all the faithful, must be infallible.\n\nWe must be careful, however, not to limit the authority to teach, and\nto require outward obedience or even inward assent, or the obligation\nof submission to authority, to the sphere of infallible declarations\nand judgments. In the natural order itself, we are frequently bound\nin conscience to assent to things which are only probable, and to\nact on the supposition that they are true. Probability is the only\nand the sufficient guide of life in most things. Self-evident and\ndemonstrable truths, and indubitable facts, are comparatively few\nin number. Without a basis of certitude, there would be no such\nthing as real versimilitude or probability. But with that basis we\ncan construct a great edifice of beliefs, opinions, and practical\nrules, which have more or less of the firmness and stability of\ntheir foundation. The probability of these beliefs is to a great\nextent extrinsic--that is, derived from authority which in reason\nand conscience we are bound to respect. It is reasonable, and it is\na duty, to receive the instruction of parents, teachers, masters,\nwith docility; to respect the authority of learned and wise men, of\ntribunals, and of the common sense of society. In the supernatural\norder it is the same. The authority of the Holy Scripture is not\nrestricted to that portion of its teaching which the mind perceives\nwith an absolute certitude. There is a moral obligation on every\nstudent of the Scripture to give its probable sense and meaning\nthat inward assent which corresponds to the degree of probability\nwhich his mind and conscience apprehend, and which may approach\nindefinitely near to certainty. It is the same with tradition,\nand with other sources of Catholic doctrine, such as the teaching\nof standard authors in dogmatic and moral theology, the official\ninstructions of confessors, preachers, and pastors of the church,\nincluding those of councils and of the Sovereign Pontiff. Under\nthis head are to be classed the decrees of the Roman Congregations,\nexcepting those cases in which the Pope gives them a higher sanction\nthan the one ordinarily given. There is, therefore, a wide sphere\nin which an authority is exercised within the order of ideas which\nis legitimate, and to which deference and obedience are due, but\nwhich is not guaranteed to have a complete and perpetual immunity\nfrom all error. We cannot say, therefore, that there cannot be any\nexercise of teaching authority in the church which is fallible, but\nonly that the church cannot be left without any authority except that\nwhich is fallible. To a certain extent, Scripture and tradition may\nbe ambiguous, doubtful, capable of being interpreted differently;\nbut we cannot be left altogether in doubt or uncertainty about\ntheir meaning. Catholic schools may have their differences about\ndogmatic or moral theology, but they cannot be altogether divided\nand dissentient. The common belief of the faithful may shade off\ninsensibly, so that it is difficult or impossible to draw a precise\nline between what is in itself pertaining to faith and that which is\nonly opinion, but it cannot be in all things indistinct and vague.\nThe confessor, the pastor, the bishop, the theologian, the father\nof the church, may teach something which is erroneous, but this\nliability to error cannot be universal. The tribunals of the church,\neven, may be obliged to decide upon partial and incomplete evidence\nand knowledge of the cause, and afterwards to annul their decisions,\nas in the case of the heliocentric theory. But these tribunals cannot\nbe always and altogether without a higher and more certain rule to\nguide them. There must be a supreme and sovereign authority in the\nchurch which is infallible, and which can guide, direct, restrain,\nand correct all inferior and fallible exercise of authority. This\nsovereign authority is only exercised in the declaration and\ndefinition of doctrine in an irreversible and irreformable manner,\nand with an obligation annexed of that assent which excludes even\na hypothetical doubt, or a right of ever withdrawing or modifying\nassent. It is this authority which we say must be infallible. And,\nmoreover, it is impossible to conceive of the real existence of an\nauthority of this kind which is not infallible. The belief of the\ninfallibility of the church was therefore contained, from the first,\ndemonstrably, in the belief of the supreme authority of the church.\nMoreover, it has always been distinctly believed and taught, as well\nas acted on, in all ages, and has been explicitly declared by the\nCouncil of the Vatican, and, so far as the Pope is concerned, defined\nin express terms.\n\nThis infallible and perpetual magistracy of the church is exercised\nin its ordinary way by the official teaching of the Catholic\nepiscopate, whose supreme head is the Pope, and of the priests\ncommissioned by them to teach. It began before the New Testament was\nwritten, and continued for nearly three hundred years before any\n\u0153cumenical council was held. It is a great mistake to fancy that\neither the Scripture, or the decrees of councils, created the faith.\nIt existed before them, and was apprehended with a vividness and\ndistinctness perhaps surpassing anything which has been witnessed in\nlater periods.\n\nThe solemn and special exercise of this magistracy is through the\njudgments and definitions of the Holy See, either with or without\nthe concurrence of \u0153cumenical councils. These solemn acts have\nhad for their first object to express in definite terms what was\nalways taught and believed as of the Catholic faith, and to condemn\nall opposite errors. Their second object has been to declare and\ndefine revealed truths contained in Scripture and tradition, but\nnot proposed by the church as of Catholic faith before their solemn\ndefinition. Their third object has been to define truths not\nrevealed, but so connected with or related to revealed truths,\nthat they are necessary to the protection of the faith and law\nof the church. Many of the judgments belonging to the last two\nclasses, also, are negative in their form, that is, condemnations of\nheretical, erroneous, or otherwise censurable tenets and opinions.\nThe necessity for making these definitions has been so constant\nand frequent during the history of the church, that the principal\ndoctrines of the faith, and a vast body of doctrine pertaining\nto or connected with it, are distinctly and explicitly taught in\nthe collection of the acts of the Holy See and the \u0153cumenical\ncouncils. It would be, however, a most grievous error to suppose\nthat everything contained in Scripture and tradition, much less\nthe whole body of truth which is capable of infallible definition,\nhas been exhausted, or could be expressed in a certain definite\nnumber of propositions, to which no addition could ever be made. The\nfountain is inexhaustible. And, no matter how long time may last, the\nchurch can still proceed to make new and more explicit elucidations\nand definitions of that complete and Catholic body of truth which\nshe has held and taught either explicitly or implicitly from the\nbeginning. The notion that the church is a merely mechanical medium,\nfor transmitting a definite and precise number of propositions of\nfaith, is wholly false. It is the notion of a certain number of\nAnglicans, but wholly foreign to the true and Catholic idea. It is\nnot only heterodox, but rationally untenable and ridiculous. Equally\nso is the common Protestant notion of a division among revealed\ntruths into two classes, the fundamental and non-fundamental, in\nthe sense in which those terms are used by Protestant theologians.\nUndoubtedly, there are mysteries and doctrines which are fundamental\nin the sense that they are at the basis of Christianity, and more\nnecessary to be universally known and explicitly believed than any\nothers. And, consequently, there are other truths which belong to the\nsuperstructure, to the minor and less principal parts of the system,\nor to its finish and ornamentation. But, in the sense to which we\nhave reference, they are all equal. That is, there is the same\nobligation of believing any one revealed truth as any other, because\nthe authority of God is equally sovereign and majestic in each single\ninstance. We are bound to believe, implicitly, everything contained\nin the written and unwritten word of God. Whatever the church\nproposes as a revealed truth we are bound to believe explicitly as a\npart of the Catholic faith, as soon as we know it. Whatever else we\nknow certainly to be contained in the word of God, we are bound to\nbelieve by divine faith. In regard to all that portion of revealed\ntruth which is not thus clearly made known to us, we are bound to\nsubmit our minds unreservedly to the decisions and judgments which\nthe church may hereafter make, and in the meantime to adhere to\nthat which seems to be the truth. A Catholic must not only believe\nwhat the church now proposes to his belief, but be ready to believe\nwhatever she may hereafter propose. And he must, therefore, be ready\nto give up any or all of his probable opinions so soon as they are\ncondemned and proscribed by a competent authority. Moreover, he must\nbelieve what the church teaches, not simply or chiefly because he\nhas convinced himself by his own investigations that her doctrines\nare really contained in the word of God, but because the infallible\nauthority of the church proposes them as revealed doctrines. The\nlatest decisions of the church have, therefore, the same authority as\nthe earliest. The Council of the Vatican is equally sacred with the\nCouncil of Trent, and the Council of Trent with the First Council of\nNic\u00e6a.\n\nIt is not necessary to prove to any tolerably instructed Catholic\nthat this is the only doctrine which has been recognized as\northodox, or taught with the sanction of the hierarchy, within the\nCatholic communion. It is found in all our catechisms and books of\ninstruction, and preached by all pastors. It is an amazing fact that\nsome ostensible converts to the church in England, who have lately\nrenounced their sworn allegiance to her authority, have declared that\nthey never understood this doctrine. This only shows the depth of\nthe ignorance of Catholic doctrine which prevails among many of the\nmost intelligent and educated Protestants, especially those of the\nAnglican sect. Priests educated in the faith from their childhood,\ncannot easily apprehend such ignorance in persons who apparently hold\nCatholic doctrines and are attracted by Catholic ceremonies. They\nmay, therefore, in some cases presuppose in their catechumens an\nunderstanding of the fundamental Catholic principle which they have\nnot, and pass them in with a superficial instruction which leaves\nthem as much Protestants as they were before. It is to be hoped that\ngreater precaution will be used hereafter in this important matter.\nIt is also true that a number of nominal Catholics, and, sad to say,\nsome priests, a few of whom had stood in high repute, have recently\nmanifested to the world how utterly they had in their secret hearts\nthrown off the allegiance due to the authority of the church. But\nthese examples prove nothing. It is as clear as the sun that the\ndoctrine we have laid down is the doctrine of the Catholic Church.\nIt is the doctrine of Bossuet as well as that of Bellarmine, of\nWaterworth as well as of Wiseman. No other doctrine has ever been\ntolerated in the church, and if any have held or taught any other, at\nany time, who have not been personally condemned and excommunicated,\nthey were still only pretended but not real members of the Catholic\ncommunion. A most signal manifestation of the universal faith of the\nchurch in this doctrine was made in the year 1854. The doctrine of\nthe Immaculate Conception, which St. Thomas and many other Dominican\nwriters had opposed without censure, and which the Holy See had\nstrictly forbidden all theologians to call a dogma of Catholic faith\nbefore the definition, was then proclaimed as a dogma of faith by\nPius IX. with the applause of the whole body of bishops, clergy, and\nfaithful. Another one has been made within the last year by a number\nof bishops, priests, and other Catholics, who have given up their\nopinions respecting the infallibility of the Pope, and have received\nthat doctrine as a doctrine of faith, simply upon the authority of\nthe Council of the Vatican.\n\nThis remark brings us to a part, and a very important part, of our\nsubject, which we promised at the beginning of this article to treat\nof at its close, and thus give a complete view of the doctrine of\ninfallibility.\n\nThe definition of the Council of the Vatican, by virtue of the\nforegoing principles, furnishes every one of the faithful with\nan infallible motive for believing the infallibility of the Pope\nas a dogma of faith, and imposes the obligation of faith on his\nconscience. The teaching of the universal episcopate, in accordance\nwith that definition, furnishes another equally infallible motive.\nAnd so does the universal belief of the faithful, who receive and\nsubmit to that infallible definition of the council. There is,\nmoreover, such an abundance of proof from the Scripture, and the most\nconspicuous monuments of tradition, of the doctrine in question,\nthat any person of ordinary education is capable of understanding\nenough of the evidence in the case to make a reasonable judgment, and\nmight have done so, even before the case was decided. The fact that\na small number of theologians held a different opinion was really\nof no weight at any time, considering the vastly preponderating\nweight of the judgment of all the saints, the great majority of\ntheologians, and almost the entire body of the bishops. Whatever\nseeming probability the opinion of this small minority might have had\nin the minds of some having been totally destroyed by the judgment of\nthe council, the reasons from Scripture and tradition gain now their\nfull force and are seen in their true light. But the purpose we have\nhad in view, and which we stated at the outset, is not the exhibition\nof these specific proofs, but the exposition of the relation of the\nnew definition to the supremacy itself and the general doctrine\nof infallibility; as well as an answer to the question, how the\ninfallibility of the Pope could have remained so long without an\nexpress definition.\n\nIn the first place, as to the supremacy. The Pope is, by divine\nright, supreme ruler, supreme teacher, and supreme judge over the\nuniversal church, and over all its priests and members, individually\nand collectively. As supreme ruler, he must be infallible; not\nindeed in all his particular acts, but in his principles and rules\nof government. Otherwise, he might subvert the constitution of the\nchurch, destroy morality, oppress and depose the orthodox prelates,\npromote heretics to the highest places, and do in the Catholic\nChurch what the schismatical Eastern patriarchs have done, and what\nCranmer did in England. By the very supposition, there would be no\nauthority in the church to control him, and all the prelates and\nfaithful would be bound to obey him. For, if there is any authority\nin the church superior to the Papal authority, the supremacy is in\nthat authority, and not in the Pope. As supreme teacher, he can\ninstruct all Christian bishops, as well as laity, in regard to\nthe doctrine which they must believe, and bind their consciences\nto submit to his teaching. It follows from our entire foregoing\nargument that infallibility is necessary to the possession and\nexercise of such a power. As supreme judge in questions of faith\nand morals, his decision must be final and irreversible; for there\nis no judge above him except our Lord Jesus Christ himself. But the\nfinal judgments which the whole Catholic Church is bound to accept\nmust be infallible. Sovereignty, or the possession of the plenitude\nof power, when it extends over the realm of mind and conscience,\nexacts infallibility. And this has been most lucidly and conclusively\nproved, during the recent controversies, by Archbishop Dechamps, Dom\nGu\u00e9ranger, and various other able writers.\n\nThe infallibility of the Pope is implicitly contained in and\nlogically concluded from the infallibility of the church in general,\nand of the teaching hierarchy in particular, in substantially the\nsame way as it is in the supremacy. The church is essentially\nconstituted by its fundamental principle, which is that of organic\nunity under one visible head, the successor of St. Peter. The\nvital force of this organic unity is faith, and, as the body is\ninfallible in faith, and also governed by the head, the head must\nbe infallible in a higher and more immediate sense; otherwise, the\nbody of the church would be liable either to become corrupt in faith\nby remaining united to a corrupted head, or to cease to be a body\nby separating from its head. If we take the church as represented\nby another similitude, it is founded, as a building, on the Rock\nof Peter; that is, the Roman Church and the succession of Roman\npontiffs. The foundation must be stable and immovable in faith, if\nthe structure resting upon it has this immovable stability. So,\nalso, the episcopal hierarchy, whether dispersed or congregated in\na general council, must remain in communion of faith and doctrine\nwith the Roman Church and Pontiff. The Pope must sanction their\ndecrees, otherwise they are null and void. Those bishops who separate\nfrom the faith of the Roman Pontiff, no matter how numerous they\nmay be, fall out of the communion of the church and forfeit their\nauthority to teach. Evidently, therefore, if the teaching hierarchy\nis infallible, the rule and authority which directs and governs it\nmust be infallible. If a pilot is placed on the flag-ship of a fleet\nwhich has to pass through a dangerous strait, and orders are given to\nevery ship to follow in his wake, it is evident that the success of\nthe passage depends on the unerring skill of the pilot. A fallible\nhead to an infallible hierarchy, a fallible guide to an infallible\nchurch, a fallible supreme teacher, a fallible Vicar of Christ! What\na contradiction in terms! Who can believe that our Lord Jesus Christ\never constituted his church upon such inconsistent principles? The\nsupremacy of the Pope and the infallibility of the church plainly\ncannot coexist with each other in fact, or be united into a coherent\nwhole in logic, without the infallibility of the Pope as the term\nof union. Yet these two doctrines have always been the constitutive\nprinciples of the Catholic Church.\n\nIt is, however, still requisite to answer the question, how any\ndoctrine different from that defined by the Council of the Vatican\ncould have existed and been tolerated so long among Catholics, and\nhow the church could have postponed her definition to this late\nperiod. When we say it is requisite, we mean, merely, requisite in\norder to complete the explanation we promised to make. We have no\nright to ask reasons of the church, any more than of Almighty God, as\na preliminary to our submission. We are to take with unquestioning\ndocility whatever instruction the church gives us. Yet, we are\npermitted to make investigation of the truths of our religion, in\norder to understand them better, to confirm our belief, and to be\nready to answer objections. Therefore, we reply to the question\nstated above, first, in general terms, that the infallibility of\nthe Roman Pontiff has always been held, taught, and acted on by\nthe supreme authority itself, and practically acknowledged by all\ngood Catholics; and that its explicit definition was delayed until\nthe necessity and expediency of such a definition was made clearly\nmanifest, and the fitting occasion furnished by the providence of God.\n\nThe argument will be made more clear if we substitute the term\n_irreformable_ in the place of _infallible_. All irreformable\ndecrees are confessedly infallible, and the question of law and\nfact is therefore precisely this: whether the Roman Pontiffs have\never suffered their dogmatic decrees to be judicially revised by\nthe bishops, or to remain suspended as to their complete obligatory\nforce, until the express or tacit assent of the bishops had been\nmanifested; and whether the church has ever recognized any such right\nin the bishops. So far as the Popes are concerned, it is enough to\nrefer to the unquestionable fact that they have expressly prohibited\nappeals from the judgment of the Holy See to an \u0153cumenical council,\nfrom the time of Celestine I. in the fifth century. Martin V. and\nPius II. in the fifteenth century, Julius II. and Paul V. in the\nsixteenth century, renewed this prohibition. Clement XI., in the\neighteenth century, condemned the Jansenists, who had appealed from\nthe Bull _Unigenitus_ to a general council, and pronounced sentence\nof excommunication upon all who promoted the appeal, unless they\nabandoned it and subscribed to the _Unigenitus_. This sentence was a\ngeneral one, including all appeals from the Holy See to an \u0153cumenical\ncouncil. It was accepted by the whole church, a small party of\nJansenists only remaining contumacious, and has been incorporated\ninto the canon law. Moreover, the Holy See has always required the\nbishops to receive and promulgate without any judicial examination,\nand without delay, all its dogmatic judgments; and they have\nsubmitted to this demand obediently, even those who, like Bossuet,\nhave held Gallican opinions. The most illustrious and irrefragable\nproof of the doctrine of the universal episcopate on this point which\ncould be given, was really given at the Council of the Vatican. The\nmonition at the end of the constitution on faith, which plainly\ndeclares the obligation of entire submission to the doctrinal decrees\nof the Holy See, was approved by the unanimous vote of all the\nfathers, including those belonging to what was called the minority.\nThe Popes have always claimed and exercised the office of supreme\njudges in matters of faith, the episcopate and the whole church\nconsenting and submitting, and all dissidents being compelled to keep\nsilence or incur excommunication.\n\nThe definition of the Council of the Vatican has not, therefore,\nconferred any new rights on the Sovereign Pontiff or enlarged their\nexercise. It has only made an explicit statement that the rights\nalways possessed and exercised by him are declared in the divine\nrevelation to belong to him _jure divino_, with the guarantee of\ninfallibility in their exercise, and proposed this statement to all\nthe faithful with the obligation of receiving it as a part of the\nCatholic faith.\n\nIt is not very difficult to give satisfactory reasons why this was\nnot done before. The church does not make definitions without a\npositive reason. Ordinarily, she waits until the truth is denied\nor disputed. Before the Council of Constance, or rather the period\nwhich immediately preceded that council, the plenary authority of\nthe Pope had not been called in question except by open schismatics\nand heretics. We have the authority of Gerson, the principal author\nof Gallicanism, for the assertion that any one who had advanced\nhis doctrine of the subjection of the Pope to the council before\nthat time, would have been universally condemned as a heretic. The\nCouncil of Constance was a very irregular, abnormal, and imperfect\ncouncil, until the election of Martin V. near its close. It was\nrather a congress or states-general of Christendom than a council.\nThe residence of the popes at Avignon and the subsequent division of\nCatholic Christendom into three obediences, had put the pontifical\nauthority in abeyance and diminished the moral force of the Holy\nSee. The right and duty of putting an end to this state of things,\nand bringing the whole church under the jurisdiction of one certain\nand lawful head, had devolved by default upon the bishops, aided\nby the influence and authority of the princes, and the counsel of\nthe principal theologians and priests of the time. Harrassed and\ndistracted by the difficulties and dangers which beset the church,\na number of leading men whose spirit and intention were good, and\nwho were devoted to the preservation of Catholic unity, had fallen\ninto the grievous mistake of seeking a remedy for existing and\nthreatening disorders in a limitation of the sovereign authority\nof the Vicar of Christ. Martin V. obviously did the only thing\nprudent or even possible for the moment, in leaving the irregular\nand uncanonical decrees which they had passed to die of their own\nintrinsic weakness. His successor, Eugenius IV., had too many open\nand contumacious rebels and schismatics to deal with, to permit him\nto alienate those who had fallen into minor errors, unawares, by a\nformal condemnation. At the Council of Florence, the reconciliation\nof the Greeks and other Orientals to the Holy See was the object of\nparamount importance. At the Fifth Council of Lateran and at the\nCouncil of Trent, the fathers were absorbed by questions of far\ngreater immediate necessity than that of Gallicanism. Yet the Council\nof Lateran came very near defining the Papal infallibility, and the\nresult of the Council of Trent was to strengthen the pontifical\nauthority immensely, as may be seen by reading the history of its\nfinal confirmation and promulgation, and examining the bull of\nconfirmation itself, which effectually sweeps away every vestige\nof the irregular legislation of Constance. Between the Council of\nTrent and the Council of the Vatican, no other \u0153cumenical council\nintervened. The Gallican controversy, as all know, chiefly raged\nduring the reign of Louis XIV. The Pope refrained from any formal\ncondemnation of the Gallican tenets, although urged even by that\nmonarch himself to terminate the controversy by a final judgment;\nand, although these opinions were held and advocated by a certain\nnumber of Catholic prelates and theologians from that time until\nthe Council of the Vatican, they were never branded by any note of\ncensure by the Holy See. It may seem surprising that such a patient\nand cautious method of dealing with errors which have at length been\ncondemned as heretical should have been pursued; but any one who\nknows the whole history of the matter must admire the supernatural\nwisdom of this course of conduct. One motive, doubtless, for it, was\nrespect for Bossuet. But another and more powerful reason was that\nthe Holy See desired to gain a victory by the means of discussion and\nargument, before reverting to the exercise of authority.\n\nAnd again, it is obvious at first sight that a far greater moral\nweight has been given to the final definition, by the fact that the\nSovereign Pontiffs have left the solemn and decisive deliberation\nand judgment of a matter which relates to their own highest and most\nsublime prerogative, to the bishops of the church assembled in a\ngeneral council. It may appear strange to some that the church could\ntolerate an error even for a time. But there is a great difference\nbetween those errors which subvert the foundation and rule of\nfaith, and those which only shake them a little. The errors of the\nJansenists, Febronians, and other rebels against the authority of the\nHoly See, were of the first class, and were never tolerated. But the\nGallicans of the school of Bossuet recognized and practised the duty\nof obedience to the Holy See. Their error lay rather in an illogical,\nindistinct, and imperfect conception of the supreme authority of\nthe Roman Pontiff, than in a denial of any of its attributes. They\nadmitted the right of the Pope to issue dogmatic judgments, and the\nobligation of bishops and the faithful to receive them with interior\nassent and obedience. They acknowledged that these judgments became\njudgments of the Catholic Church, and were made irreformable as\nsoon as the assent of a majority of the bishops was even tacitly\ngiven. As this assent has always been given, not tacitly alone, but\nby the most formal and express adhesion, there has never been any\npractical divergence in doctrine between orthodox Gallicans and the\nmore consistent Ultramontanes. St. Augustine himself had said that\nit is sometimes the wisest course to tolerate for a time the errors\nof those who hold the faith firmly, and err only by an imperfect\nknowledge and a confused conception of the truth. The church has not\nhesitated or faltered in regard to her own principles, or failed\nto act on them with full and distinct consciousness. But it is not\nalways necessary for her to propose them fully and completely as\narticles of divine and Catholic faith to her children. It is for\nthe church, guided, illuminated, governed, and assisted by the Holy\nSpirit, to judge of the time and manner in which she will unfold\nand display in all their brilliant majesty the treasures of her\ndoctrine. She has waited until the nineteenth century to encircle\nthe brow of the Queen of Heaven with the coronet of her definition\nof the Immaculate Conception, and to place in the tiara of the Vicar\nof Christ a new jewel by defining his infallibility. From both these\nsplendid acts, in which her divine authority, her irresistible power,\nher infallible wisdom, and her miraculous unity are manifested\nwith the most radiant lustre, incalculable blessings will flow in\nabundance upon her faithful children. Christ is honored in his\nMother and in his Vicar. The serpent's head is crushed anew. Faith\ntriumphs in her new conquests. The kingdom of God is strengthened and\nconsolidated, and the kingdom of Satan is shaken to its foundations.\nLike the cathedral of Cologne, the superb edifice of theology\napproaches to its completion, the new marble rises side by side with\nthat which is dimmed by the dust of ages, and new pinnacles are\nplaced upon ancient foundations. This temple is one whose builder\nand maker is not man but God, whose designs are formed in eternity,\nbut realized gradually and successively in time. From the foundation\nto the top-stone, the massive solidity, the symmetry and unity of\nplan, the harmony of proportions, the perfection of beauty, which\nbecome more clearly evident with every century, disclose the idea\nin the infinite mind of the Supreme Architect. The Catholic Church\nhas been designed and constructed by the same being who designed\nand constructed the universe. As the solar system is unerring and\nunfailing in its movements, prescribed to it by the immutable law\nof its Creator, so is the church unerring and unfailing by the law\nof its divine Founder. And as the sun can never cease to be the\nunfailing source of light and heat, and the immovable centre of\nrevolution, while the solar system endures, so the See of Peter must\nremain the centre and the source of truth, doctrine, law, unity,\nand perpetual movement to the Catholic Church, so long as time\nendures. It is this unerring stability of the Catholic Church in\nthe law prescribed by its founder, Jesus Christ, which is properly\ntermed infallibility; and, since this stability is communicated to\nall the distant and dependent churches under her obedience by the\nRoman Church, it is in the Roman Church that infallibility has its\nimmovable seat and centre.\n\nIt is plain from the foregoing argument how false and flimsy is the\npretence of Dr. D\u00f6llinger, M. Loyson, and the other rebels against\nthe Council of the Vatican, that they have been excommunicated for\nadhering to the old Catholic faith which they have always held. All\nheretics have said the same thing, except those who have openly\naverred that they reject the authority of the Catholic Church. This\nis what the Arians said, and Arius knew how to play the injured,\npersecuted saint and prophet of God, even better than M. Loyson. The\ncreed of Nice is a new creed, said the Arians and Semi-Arians. So\nsaid the rebels against the Councils of Constantinople, Ephesus, and\nChalcedon. The little Jansenist sect in Holland calls itself the Old\nCatholic Church, and its members take the name of Old Catholics. The\nallegation is palpably and ridiculously false. The Gallican opinions\nwere never a part of the Catholic doctrine. The highest claim that\ncould ever be made for them by their advocates was, that they were\nprobable opinions not condemned by the supreme authority. The best\ntheologians have condemned them as erroneous and proximate to heresy.\nThe Holy See has never shown them the slightest favor, but, on the\ncontrary, has used all means, except that of express condemnation,\nto drive them out of seminaries, to destroy their credit, and to\ninculcate the true and sound doctrine. They were tolerated errors.\nWhile they were tolerated, it was possible for good Catholics, and\neven learned men, to hold them in good faith; since good and learned\nmen, and even prelates, are fallible interpreters of both Scripture\nand tradition, and may err in reasoning and judgment. But their\ntemporary toleration gave them no rights, not even those which belong\nto received opinions of Catholic schools of theology. There were\ngood reasons for a purely passive toleration for a time. But none\nfor the indefinite continuance of such toleration. The silence of an\n\u0153cumenical council, viewing all the events which had occurred during\nthe past two centuries, would have given the advocates of Gallicanism\na plausible pretext to claim for it a positive toleration, a\nrecognition of its real and solid probability. Moreover, it was\nreviving under a new and more dangerous form; numbers of good and\nloyal Catholics were beginning to go astray after a so-called\nCatholic liberalism, and a clique of secret traitors was plotting\na revolt against the Holy See, disguised under the ambiguities and\nreservations of Gallicanism. Error, though it may lie dormant and\nnot show its dangerous character for a time, sooner or later works\nout the conclusions contained in its premises. Gallicanism was an\nillogical doctrine, containing implicitly the denial of the papal\nsupremacy. It was necessary, therefore, to condemn it, and to define\nthe truth. Those who gave up their opinions in obedience to the\ndecree of the Vatican acted like Catholics, and like reasonable and\nconsistent men. As Catholics, they were bound to obey a divine\nauthority. As reasonable men, they were bound to abandon an opinion\nwhich they had embraced on merely probable grounds, as soon as the\ncertain truth was made known to them.\n\nMoreover, the malcontents were taught from their childhood, and\nsome of them have themselves taught, as authors and professors,\nthe infallibility of \u0153cumenical councils as a doctrine of the\nCatholic faith. They have renounced, abjured, and trampled on that\nfaith, by rebelling against the Council of the Vatican, and bidding\ndefiance to the authority of their bishops and of the Pope. They\nare justly excommunicated. The anathema of the church has smitten\nthem, and they are doomed to wither and die, and go into oblivion.\nAs for the Catholic Church and her docile children, they have made\na great act of faith which has had a most salutary effect already,\nin strengthening the habit of divine faith, and in illuminating the\nintellect with the knowledge of the truth. Its salutary effects in\nthe future will be still greater. There was never a time when the\ncontinuous and immediate exercise of the supreme teaching authority\nof the Vicar of Christ was so necessary and so easy as the present\ncritical, momentous period. Never a time when it was so necessary for\nall the faithful to place an absolute and boundless confidence in\nthe chair of Peter. God has made known to all men, as a truth of his\ndivine revelation, the infallibility of that chair, and of his august\nVicar who sits in it. This truth is equally certain with the greatest\nmysteries of the faith, the Trinity and the Incarnation. This chair\nof Peter can neither be deceived nor deceive us, for its doctrine\nrests on the veracity of the Holy Spirit, the author of truth, and in\nbelieving and obeying it we believe and obey Almighty God.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[143] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[144] _Contra Academicos_, lib. iii. \u00a7 23.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TRUE HARP.\n\n\n      Soul of the Bard! stand up, like thy harp's majestical pillar!\n        Like its golden arch, O heart! in reverence bow thee and bend!\n      Mind of the Bard, like the strings be manifold, changeful,\n          responsive:\n        This is the harp God smites--the harp, man's master and friend!\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n\n\n\nA PILGRIMAGE TO CAYLA.[145]\n\n\n                                      CAYLA, August 1, 1867.\n\nMY DEAR FRIEND: In pressing my hand for the last time, when I left\nQuebec two months ago, you said, \"Do not fail to visit Cayla.\" I made\nyou the promise, and to-day I accomplish it. It is from the chamber\nitself of Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin that I write.\n\nYou who have such an avowed admiration for the sister of Maurice,\nwith what rapture you will enjoy the minute details which I have to\ncommunicate! How many times have we asked, after having read the\nadmirable _Journal_ of Eug\u00e9nie, after having lived with her the life\nat Cayla, what had become of that domestic life which she described\nwith such exquisite art, and which she caused us to love so much? Who\nare now the actual inmates of that antique ch\u00e2teau? If \"Mimi,\" sweet\n\"Mimi,\" is still living? etc. To all these questions I can to-day\nreply. On my return to Poitiers from a short visit to the little city\nof Airvault, the cradle of my ancestors, I turned my steps toward\nToulouse, where I arrived this morning. The entire city was in a\nstate of festivity, the streets were all decorated, and filled with\npilgrims, flags waved in every direction, and the fa\u00e7ades of the\nhouses were hung with wreaths of flowers. They were celebrating the\nlast day of the grand _f\u00eates_ in honor of St. Germaine Cousin.\n\nThe railroad which runs from Toulouse to Alby stops at Gaillac, and\nthere branches off to the station of Tessouni\u00e8res. Leaving Alby to\nthe right, I came down to Cahuzac about two o'clock. The terminus\nis about half a league from the village. I was obliged to make this\nlittle trip on foot, in company with the mail-carrier, who also took\ncharge of my valise.\n\nThe landscape is hilly and abrupt, and has a savage aspect. The road\nwinds through the valley, rises and descends between the wooded\nmountains, whence peep out here and there some white rocks which\nindicate a sterile soil.\n\nAt a turn in the road, I perceived on an acclivity Cahuzac, whose\nname vibrates so pleasantly on the ears of Eug\u00e9nie. From there a\ncarriage conducted me in a few moments to Andillac, a village more\nthan modest, which appeared on my left, with its poor little church,\nwhere repose the tombs of Maurice and Eug\u00e9nie, where she came so\noften to pray, to weep, to hope, to implore with many tears the\nsalvation of her brother.\n\nHere the road turns off and climbs a hillside. The guide pointed\nwith his finger across the trees on the other side of the ravine to\nthe Ch\u00e2teau of Cayla, which rises isolated on a graceful eminence.\n'Tis a spacious mansion of severe aspect. Nothing distinguishes it\nfrom ordinary structures, except a little tower built on one of its\nangles, which gives it a slightly feudal tinge. Notwithstanding the\nunobtrusiveness of this manor when seen in its landscape-framing,\nthe effect is laughing and picturesque, thanks to the prestige of\npoetry, that fairy enchantress who has touched every object in this\ndomain with her golden ring. Here, though the fairy is an angel, it\nis Eug\u00e9nie.\n\nThe carriage crossed the ravine, and followed the banks of the St.\nUsson, a little stream which turns the parish mill. It then began\nthe steep ascent to Cayla, and finally stopped before the farm, in\nthe midst of a crowd of chickens, who were cackling and disporting\nthemselves, in the sun, on a litter of straw. A servant came up at\nthat moment from the rabbit-warren on the north side, and politely\ninvited me into the _salon_, a pretty enough room, opening on the\nterrace. Some furniture in modern style, white curtains, some wax\nfruit and flowers, a few paintings on the walls, a little picture of\nCayla and its surroundings, on the table a handsome edition of the\nworks of Eug\u00e9nie and Maurice; this last the most beautiful ornament\nof this home.\n\nThe door opened, and a young lady with a distinguished air and dreamy\nexpression entered. It was Caroline de Gu\u00e9rin, Eug\u00e9nie's niece, that\ndear little \"Caro\" whom she used to rock on her knees, now married to\nM. Melchior M\u00e2zuc, of a noble and wealthy family of Montpellier. She\nwas soon followed by another person, much older but still sprightly,\ndressed very humbly, with an expression of extreme sweetness in her\ncountenance, and a modesty yet more lovely, with marked features,\nlit up by her bright eyes, and a smile uniting extreme delicacy and\nbenevolence.\n\nI introduced myself as coming from America, from Canada, attracted to\nthis remote corner of France by the fame of Eug\u00e9nie.\n\n\"Has the reputation of our Eug\u00e9nie reached that far?\" exclaimed Marie\nde Gu\u00e9rin, for it was she.\n\nFrom this moment the conversation did not languish, fed, as it was,\nby the thousand nothings around which the halo of poetry has been\nthrown by the author of the _Journal_.\n\nJust as I rose to take my leave, M. M\u00e2zuc entered, followed by Madame\nde Gu\u00e9rin, the widow of Erembert. They had summoned M. M\u00e2zuc from the\nfields, where he had been superintending his vinedressers. He is a\nman in the strength of age, an old officer in the army of Algiers,\nwith a manly face, energetic look, amiable and impulsive character.\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed he. \"You come all the way from America and as\nfar as our mountains to visit us, and already talk of leaving? No,\nno; you must not think of such a thing. You have not seen anything\nyet; you must stay and visit the neighborhood, and we will give you\nEug\u00e9nie's room, and you will find it just as it was at the time\nof the _Journal_. Then, here is my brother N\u00e9restan, who has just\nreturned from Africa, where he filled the office of officer of\ncolonization; he will entertain you about Algiers, and you can talk\nto him of Canada.\"\n\n\"Oh! very well,\" said M. N\u00e9restan, shaking me cordially by the hand;\n\"and I will begin at once by telling you that the best system of\ncolonization that I know of, I found in a book printed in Canada\nwhich accidentally fell into my hands.\"\n\nThey all then urged me with so much politeness to stay that,\nconquered by their kind persuasions, I yielded to the pleasure of\nremaining.\n\nWhile awaiting tea, Marie equipped herself without any ceremony in\nan old straw hat with a broad brim, and invited me to take a walk\nand visit the environs. We were already old acquaintances. We went\nout by the door that opens on the terrace, which rests on the crest\nof the ravine. Along the wall grew several pomegranate-trees, and\nsome jasmine in bloom, from which Maurice gathered a bouquet the day\nbefore his death. He walked down here, leaning on the arm of Eug\u00e9nie,\nto warm in the bright sun his limbs already struck with the chill of\ndeath, to bathe his panting breast in the pure warm morning air, and\nto contemplate for the last time the beautiful sky of Cayla.\n\nSome stone steps lead to the bottom of the ravine, where the\nlittle stream runs along, shaded by willows, whose rippling has so\noften caused that amiable recluse to dream and sing in her little\nchamber. Here is the fountain of T\u00e9oul\u00e9, that is to say, of the\nTile, so-called from the huge tile which serves as a reservoir\nfor the water from the rock. We crossed the Pontet which leads to\nthe laundry, where, like the beautiful Nausicaa of old, Eug\u00e9nie\ncame sometimes to wash her robes; and which inspired these pretty\nreflections:\n\n\"A day passed in drying one's linen leaves but little to say. It\nis, however, pretty enough to spread out a nice white wash on the\ngrass, or to see it waving from the lines. You can be, if you wish,\neither the Nausicaa of Homer, or one of the princesses of the Bible\nwho washed the tunics of their brothers. We have a laundry that you\nhave not seen, at the Moulinasse, large enough and full of water,\nwhich embellishes this recess, and attracts the birds, who love\nthe coolness to sing in. I write you with clean hands, having just\nreturned from washing a dress in the stream. 'Tis delightful to wash,\nand see the fish pass, the little waves, bits of grass, and fallen\nflowers, to follow this, that, and I know not what in the thread of\nthe stream! So many things are seen by the laundress who knows how\nto look in the course of the stream! 'Tis the bathing-place of the\nbirds, the mirror of heaven, the image of life, a hidden path, a\nbaptismal reservoir.\"\n\nA few steps in the meadow, a superb chestnut-tree, three or four\ncenturies old, spreads its vast shade; old sentinel of the ch\u00e2teau,\nwhich has seen born and die the generations of De Gu\u00e9rins. The ridge\nof Sept-Fonds winds through the trees as far as the top of the hill;\non the neighboring declivity is the little coppice of Buis, with its\npretty little pathway, full of shade and mystery, and where Eug\u00e9nie\nhad her little dog buried.\n\n\"_July 1st._--He is dead, my poor little dog. I am so sad, I have but\nlittle inclination to write.\n\n\"_July 2d._--I have just put Bijou in the warren of the coppice,\namong the flowers and birds. I am going to plant a rose-bush there,\nand call it the _dog-rose_. I have kept his two little front paws,\nwhich so often rested on my hands, on my feet, on my knees. He was\nso nice, so graceful when he lay down, and in his caresses! In the\nmorning he used to come to the foot of my bed, to lick my feet as I\nwas getting up; then went to give papa the same greeting. We were his\ntwo favorites. All this comes back to me now. Past objects go to the\nheart. Papa regrets him as much as I do; he said he would have given\nten sheep for this poor little dog. Alas! everything must leave us,\nor we must leave everything.\n\n\"A letter just received has caused me another pang. The affections of\nthe heart differ like their objects. What a difference the grief for\nBijou, and that for a soul being lost, or at least in danger of it! O\nmy God! how frightful that is in the eyes of faith!\"\n\nPassing before the farm, we cast a glance at the other side of the\nvalley. Facing us, this mass of green is the Bois du Pigimbert, with\nthe hamlet of Pausadon, where Vialarette lived, that poor woman whom\nMarie and her sister used to visit. More to the left, on the heights,\nis the village of M\u00e9rix, and below, toward the north, Leutin, where\nEug\u00e9nie went so frequently to hear Mass.\n\nThe road from the warren of the north skirts the base of the hill,\nwhich extends itself in the rear of the old castle. Here, as\nelsewhere, all is full of souvenirs.\n\n      \"Every tree has its history, every stone a name.\"\n\nHere Maurice played with his sisters among the branches of the\nTreilhon, that old vine-stalk which twines itself round the trunk of\nan oak-tree. \"Mimi\" smiled at the recollection of the slides they\nused to take down the side of the ravine. She pointed out a little\nunderwood of maples; they were small trees about the thickness of\none's arm, and which have nothing in common with the king of our\nforests.\n\nA sudden storm coming up obliged us to seek shelter in the mansion. A\nfew moments before, the sky was serene and blue; now all was obscured\nby clouds, the rain came down in torrents, and it began to thunder\nand lighten. This southern sky always reminds me of a great child,\nchanging from smiles to tears with a wonderful facility.\n\nAt half-past seven, supper was announced, at which was served the\nexcellent wine of Cayla. At the side of its father, was little M\u00e2zuc\nde Gu\u00e9rin, a child of eighteen months. Oh! that Eug\u00e9nie could have\ncaressed this child of \"Caro's.\"\n\nThe evening passed delightfully; anecdotes were told, reminiscences\nof Cayla, of America, of Algeria, and episodes related by M. M\u00e2zuc of\nthe wars in Africa, in the mountains of Kabylia. \"Mimi\" then brought\nus back to our present surroundings by relating some interesting\ndetails of the widow of Maurice. She returned from India after the\ndeath of her husband, and died at Bordeaux in 1861.\n\nAnd the good M. Bories is still living, but struck with a cruel\nmalady, and is but a mere wreck.\n\nAt bedtime I was conducted to my room. A spiral staircase ascends\nto the principal story, and leads into the great hall. This is the\nstately and solemn apartment of the manor. In it a vast fireplace,\nwhose mantel is sustained by caryatides in stone; on either side are\nthe figures of two cavaliers in their armor, rudely sketched. In\nformer days these walls were covered with the armor of the seignors\nof this house; this inlaid floor, to-day so silent, resounded to\nthe footsteps of armed knights, carrying on the points of their\nlances standards and pennons on which the ladies of the castle\nhad embroidered the proud device of the sires of De Gu\u00e9rin. _Omni\nexceptione majores._ It was in this saloon, now so deserted, that\nthey armed themselves to fight against the Moors and the ferocious\nAlbigenses, or where they donned their richest armor, their brilliant\nhelmets of finest steel, and their gilded breast-plates, to cross\ntheir lances in the tournament. At the time of Eug\u00e9nie, all this\nantique splendor had long since passed away. Here as elsewhere,\nthe Revolution had reaped its harvest of destruction, and the rich\nSeignors de Gu\u00e9rin \"were now,\" said she, \"only poor squires, striving\nto keep the wolf from the door.\"\n\nOn the right side of the hall is a door opening into the chamber of\n\"Mimi;\" on the left, one opening into that of Maurice. At the extreme\nend, away back, retired like a cell, hidden like the nest of a bird,\nis the little room of Eug\u00e9nie. It is in this room, and on her table,\nthat I am now writing to you, surrounded by the same silence, and\nlit by the same modest light of her lamp. Before me is her little\nchapel in miniature, her crucifix, her _\u00e9tag\u00e8re_ of books. Nothing\nbesides this, neither ornaments nor luxury; nothing except the most\ncommonplace. But these valueless nothings have become relics; this\nlittle room a chapel, this table an altar. 'Twas from this white and\npeaceful cage that the dove of Cayla flew away to the land of dreams,\ngathered the celestial flowers of poetry, conversed with the angels,\nand sang with her heart. It is here that she prayed, read, wrote her\n_Journal_, and those admirable letters to Louise de Bayne, Madame de\nMaistre, and Maurice; 'tis here that she wrote her heart's history,\nthat she lived, that she died; from here that she went to rejoin\nMaurice.\n\nI turned over the leaves of the _Journal_, and gave myself up to\nits fascinations, where the least object, an insect that flies, a\nbird that sings, a ray of light penetrating the blinds, inspired her\nwith those charming thoughts, those poetical pages, like a harmony\nof Lamartine, fine and profound as a passage of La Rochefoucauld.\nHer thoughts take at times the most unexpected flights, sublime\ntransports, like an elevation of Bossuet's.\n\nNever perhaps has there been a more delicate organization, a more\nsusceptible imagination. Her soul was like an \u00c6olian harp which\nvibrates to the slightest breath.\n\nMlle. de Gu\u00e9rin wrote with a golden pen. I would compare her to\nMadame S\u00e9vign\u00e9, if Madame S\u00e9vign\u00e9 was less frivolous. The latter\namuses and dazzles, the former captivates and touches; the one is as\nbright as a lark, the other dreamy as a dove. The first has more\ngenius, the second more soul. There is more sentimentality in Madame\nde S\u00e9vign\u00e9, in Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin more sentiment. The writings of one\nskim over the surface of the soul, those of the other penetrate it.\nWe can admire Madame de S\u00e9vign\u00e9, we love Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin.\n\nBefore me, hanging to the framework of her library, is a picture\nof St. Th\u00e9r\u00e8se de G\u00e9rard, a present to her from the Baroness de\nRivi\u00e8res. I re-read the passage suggested by this little engraving,\nthose aspirations toward contemplative life, which reveal such tender\npiety, such deep and true devotion. This pure heart turned naturally\ntoward heaven, like the mariner's needle, which always points to\nthe north. \"She was of those souls,\" said Mgr. Mermillod, \"who in\nthe midst of our material cares hear the _Sursum Corda_ of the Holy\nChurch, and who delight in these noble and holy aspirations.\" \"We can\nmake a church everywhere,\" says she in some of her writings.\n\nI open the window, and, like her, I contemplate the beautiful\nnight--the country half-buried in shadows, the myriads of stars,\nwhich, like golden nails, sustain the blue tapestry of heaven. All is\nsilence, meditation, mystery; a single murmur, that of the stream.\n\nIt sings for me, as it formerly did for Eug\u00e9nie. In looking back\ninto the past, I ask myself if I have ever spent a sweeter hour or\nexperienced more vivid emotions.\n\nAdieu, it is midnight. Expect soon a sequel to this letter.\n\nTo M. L'ABB\u00c9 L., Quebec.\n\n\n                                      PARIS, August 9, 1867.\n\n... At five o'clock in the morning, I heard a knock at my door. I\nwas already up. The previous evening I had made an arrangement with\nMlle. de Gu\u00e9rin to go to Andillac, where I wished to say Mass, and\nvisit the graves of Maurice and Eug\u00e9nie.\n\nThe cheerful aspect of nature seemed to echo the brightness of my\nthoughts. The heights of M\u00e9rix were bathed in the rosy hues of\nmorning; in the sky appeared the first golden threads of the sun; in\nthe plain the slight fragrance of the dew, perfumed breezes, and the\nwarbling of the birds.\n\nWe saluted in passing the little cross where the brother and sister\ntook such a tender adieu of each other, where Eug\u00e9nie preserved so\nlong the impression that the horse's foot made in the plastic soil.\nOne Christmas Eve, going to midnight Mass, she gathered, in her\nsimple piety, some branches covered with hoar-frost from the bushes\nwhich grow along this road, which she wished to place before the\nBlessed Sacrament--a scene which she described with so much freshness\nand charming grace:\n\n\"We all went to midnight Mass, papa in advance--the night was\nsuperb. Never had there been a more beautiful midnight, so much so\nthat papa put his head out from his mantle several times to look\nat the firmament. The ground was covered with hoar-frost, but we\ndid not feel the cold, and then the air was warmed in front of us\nby the torches which our servants carried to light the way. It was\ncharming, I assure you, and I only wish you could have been with us,\ngoing to church along these roads bordered with little bushes, as\nwhite as if they were all in bloom. The hoar-frost makes beautiful\nflowers. We saw a branch so lovely that we wished to make a bouquet\nfor the Blessed Sacrament, but it melted in our hand. All flowers are\nshort-lived. I regretted my bouquet: it was sad to see it melt, and\ndissolve drop by drop.\"\n\nGoing along, Mlle. de Gu\u00e9rin told me of the last sickness and\ndeath of her sister. Two years before, her health became seriously\naffected; it was in vain that the physician sent her to the waters of\nCauterets, to seek the strength which would never more return.\n\nShe felt her end approaching; but she did not tremble; in her\ncomplete resignation, there was no place for fear. As she watched\nthe span of life gradually diminish, she seemed to fold within\nherself, like the sensitive plant; wrapped around her the mantle\nof holy recollection, in which great souls envelope themselves at\nthe approach of that supreme contemplation which she foresaw. She\ntalked but little, prayed much, and smiled rarely. Her little room\nhad become the cell of a religious; she lived there cloistered, only\nleaving it to go to church. Prayer was her recreation, the Holy\nEucharist her food.\n\n\"I wish to die after having received the holy communion,\" said she\na short time before her death. They noticed that she looked often\ntoward Andillac, where she was going so soon to dwell. The swallow is\ncompelled to fly away on the eve of winter; the winter of death was\napproaching.\n\nShe took cold going to Mass on the Epiphany, and returned home\nwith a fever, which increased rapidly. Inflammation of the lungs\nsupervened, which hurried her to the portal of death in a few days.\nAfter having received the holy Viaticum, \"I can die now,\" sighed she\nwith a celestial smile. \"Adieu, my dear Marie!\" And as she felt the\ntears tremble in her eyes, at seeing her so overcome with grief,\nshe embraced her, and said, while turning her head away to conceal\nher emotion, \"Ah! do not let us be sad!\" as if she was afraid of\nweakening the generosity of her sacrifice.\n\nSuch was the appointed end of Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin. She died like\na saint, \"as the angels would die, if they were not immortals,\" said\none of her friends.\n\nWe arrived at Andillac.\n\n\"_Mosou Ritou_\"--M. le Cur\u00e9--\"is he in the rectory?\" asked Mlle.\nde Gu\u00e9rin in patois of the old servant, as she entered with the\nfamiliarity of an habitu\u00e9e.\n\nM. l'Abb\u00e9 Massol welcomed us cordially, and conversed with me about\na project which he had had in view for some time of rebuilding the\nchurch of Andillac with the offerings of the admirers of Eug\u00e9nie\nde Gu\u00e9rin. The encouraging sympathy which he had received led him\nto hope that he would very soon be able to accomplish his purpose,\nwhich will be the honor of the tomb of this pious young girl, and\nher aureola by choice: this was indeed the only glory that she\ndesired.[146]\n\nThe actual church of Andillac is really nothing more than a ruin. Its\ntottering belfry, roof falling in from age, cracked and crumbling\nwalls, present the picture of desolation. It is necessary to descend\nseveral steps in order to enter this other Bethlehem, whose sombre,\ndecayed, and humid aspect sends a chill to the heart. Nothing less\nthan the most ardent faith, or Eug\u00e9nie's happy imagination, could\nenable a person to breathe in what seems more like a charnel-house\nthan a church, or cause a ray of brightness and poetry to enter there.\n\nI whispered to Mlle. Gu\u00e9rin that I was going to say Mass for the\nillustrious dead of her family; and I had the happiness of giving the\nholy communion to the sister of Eug\u00e9nie. A quarter of an hour passed\nin thanksgiving on the prie-dieu where she used to kneel left an\nimpression never to be forgotten; angel, she conversed here with the\nangels, with the Spouse of virgins; she unfolded here to the wind of\neternity those wings of light which detached her every day more and\nmore from the earth, and which have finally transported her to the\nbosom of our Lord.\n\nOn leaving the church, Mlle. de Gu\u00e9rin silently opened the gate of\nthe cemetery. I was face to face with the beloved graves. The morning\nsunlight flooded this garden of the dead, as if to remind me of\nthat other invisible light which illumines the other shore of life\nthat never fades. A shaft of white marble, the only monument in the\ncemetery, marks the grave of Maurice. We read distinctly the mournful\ndate, _July 19, 1839_. At the side to the right is a simple wooden\ncross, one of its arms supporting a crown of immortelles, with this\ninscription enclosed in a medallion: _Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin_, May 31,\n1848. In the rear were two iron crosses, one of them marking the\ngrave of M. Joseph de Gu\u00e9rin, Eug\u00e9nie's father, and the other that of\nErembert. They died a year apart, 1850 and 1851.\n\nI remained a long time on my knees beside the grave of Eug\u00e9nie, in\nthe same place where, overwhelmed by a nameless grief, she wept\ntorrents of tears, where she probed that terrible mystery of death,\nfathomless as her sorrow; and whence she rose at last, crushed for\never, but resigned, with this sublime cry of a Christian, \"Let us\nthrow our hearts into eternity!\" She sleeps now by the side of that\ndear Maurice for whom she often wept, until the day when they will\nrise together never more to be separated.\n\nBefore leaving, Mlle. de Gu\u00e9rin gathered a bouquet of roses and\nimmortelles from her sister's grave, placed it in my hands, and went\nout, without uttering a word.\n\nAdieu, sweet and _blessed Eug\u00e9nie_! The glory which you did not seek\nhas sought you, but the aureola which shines over your mausoleum need\nnot alarm your modesty or your humility. It is pure as your soul,\nsweet as your nature, religious as your thoughts, benevolent as your\nlife. Already it has illumined more than one soul, and strengthened\nmore than one heart. It will do more: it will rebuild this temple,\nwhence will arise in your honor the hymn of gratitude. _Pertransiit\nbenefaciendo!_\n\nOn my return to Cayla, I thanked my kind hosts for their gracious\nhospitality, commended myself to the prayers of Marie, _the holy_,\nand resumed the route to Toulouse.\n\nI have brought you several souvenirs from Cayla, some drawings, one\nof Eug\u00e9nie's autographs, a few flowers, and a bunch of immortelles,\nwhich will be relics for you.\n\nTo M. L'ABB\u00c9 L., Quebec.\n\n\nDATES.\n\n    \"M. Joseph de Gu\u00e9rin died in 1851, age 70 years.\n\n    \"Madame Joseph de Gu\u00e9rin, n\u00e9e Gertrude de Fontenilles,\n    died in 1819.\n\n    \"Erembert, born January, 1803, died December 16, 1850.\n\n    \"Eug\u00e9nie, born January 25, 1805, died May 21, 1848.\n\n    \"Marie, born August 30, 1806.\n\n    \"Maurice, born August 10, 1818, died July 19, 1839.\"\n\n\nLATER.\n\n                                          December 20, 1869.\n\nSince my return to Canada, several pleasant little parcels have been\nsent me from Cayla, among them three different views of the ch\u00e2teau,\na map of the parish of Andillac, a photograph of the church, and of\nthe cemetery in which are the graves of Maurice and Eug\u00e9nie, the\nlikenesses of Maurice, Marie, and Caroline de Gu\u00e9rin.\n\nThe only picture which exists of Eug\u00e9nie is a simple pen-and-ink\nsketch, scarcely outlined, which was sent me by the editor of\nEug\u00e9nie's works, M. Tr\u00e9butien.\n\nAmong these precious souvenirs from Cayla, I must also mention an\nunpublished letter from Henry V., Count de Chambord, and another\nfrom Cardinal de Villecourt, without counting those addressed to me\nby Marie de Gu\u00e9rin, several of which would not do discredit to the\ncollection of Eug\u00e9nie's. I will only cite from one of them a short\npassage in which she alludes to our young Canadian Zouaves:\n\n\"I am so edified to see the devotion of the Canadians to our Holy\nFather the Pope. Your young men leave for Rome, as did the crusaders\nof old, for Palestine, at this word, _God wills it_. Let us hope that\nthis plenitude of generosity will not be without a happy result.\nAlready they have given an example at Mentana; if necessary they will\nrepeat it....\"--_Letter dated January 30, 1868._\n\n\nLETTER FROM HENRY V., COUNT DE CHAMBORD.\n\n                                   FROHSDORF, June 19, 1864.\n\nI recollect, mademoiselle, having read several years ago, with much\ninterest, some remarkable extracts from the works of M. Maurice de\nGu\u00e9rin, a young writer cut down in the flower of his age and talents.\nI could not, then, fail to welcome with a peculiar satisfaction the\nbook of Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie de Gu\u00e9rin, faithful mirror in which is so\nconstantly reflected the twofold affection that filled her life--the\nlove of God and her tenderness for her brother, sweet lesson and\ntouching example of that ardent, lively, and resigned faith which,\nin the midst of the sorrows of this world, only finds consolation\nin looking toward heaven, where those whom we love here below,\nseparated from us in an instant by death, are united again never more\nto be parted. I must not defer any longer saying to you how much I\nappreciate this gift, and, above all, the pious motive which prompted\nit--as well as the expressions of devotion and attachment with\nwhich it was accompanied, in your name, as well as in that of your\nsister-in-law. To M. Tr\u00e9butien and his daughter I beg you will also\nexpress my gratitude.\n\nAccept for yourself, with many thanks, the assurance of my very\nsincere sentiments.\n\n                                                      HENRI.\n\nTO MLLE. MARIE DE GU\u00c9RIN.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[145] These letters, from the pen of the well-known Canadian writer,\nM. l'Abb\u00e9 Casgrain, have been translated for THE CATHOLIC WORLD, with\nthe permission of the author.--TRANSLATOR'S NOTE.\n\n[146] On my return to Canada, a small collection was taken up among\nthe admirers of Eug\u00e9nie, which amounted to five hundred francs, and\nwhich has been sent to Mlle. de Gu\u00e9rin.\n\nHis Holiness Pius IX., whom we count among the admirers of the\nvirgin of Cayla, and designated by him in a letter as the _blessed\nEug\u00e9nie_, has deigned to accord his apostolic benediction, and a\nplenary indulgence, to all the benefactors of Andillac. Their names\nare inscribed in the archives of the parish, and the holy sacrifice\nof the Mass is offered for them four times a year.\n\n\n\n\nSONNET.\n\nITALIAN \"UNIFICATION\" IN 1861.\n\n\n      The land which Improvisatore's throng\n        With one light bound would \"freedom\" improvise,\n        Freedom by England dragged from raging seas\n      Through centuries of wrestling right and wrong.\n      The gamesters crowned, their loaded dice downflung,\n        Divide their gains;[147] while--shamelessly at ease--\n        Gold-spangled fortune, tinselled to the knees,\n      Runs on the tight rope of the state new-strung!\n      O liberty, stern goddess, sad and grave,\n        To whom are dear the hearts that watch and wait,\n      The hand laborious, strenuous as the glaive,\n        The strong, staid head, the soul supreme o'er fate,\n      With what slow scorn thou turn'st, incensed of mien,\n      From mimic freedom's operatic scene!\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[147] Napoleon got Nice and Savoy; Victor Emanuel, the Papal States.\nEvery wise and religious man must desire that Italy should be free.\nThe greatest enemy to true and _permanent_ freedom is that false\nfreedom which divorces itself from justice that it may wed itself to\nfortune.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nTWO YEARS AFTER\n\nA heavy heart is a wonderful assistant in acquiring repose of manner,\nit weighs so on the impulses and desires, and thus keeps them in\norder--fortunately for Mrs. Jane Rowan. On the whole, she behaved\nvery well in her new situation, and did not fret herself nor the\nfamily too much. By the gentleman of the house and his daughter she\nwas not treated as a hired servant, but as Mr. Williams's sister\nmight have been treated, if he had had one to take charge of his\nestablishment. With the sister-in-law, Mrs. Bond, and the servants,\nit was otherwise. The former was one of those persons who merit pity,\nfrom the fact that they can never feel the delight of a generous\nemotion. She worshipped the guinea's stamp, but the preciousness of\nfine gold she knew not: for her, the guinea might as well have been\nmade of copper. If she had been born to a servile estate, she would\nhave remained there, and adorned her position; but she had been\nassociated with persons of respectability and even of eminence. The\nadvantages of this association she showed in that the arrogance with\nwhich she treated her supposed inferiors was cold and quiet, and her\nsubservience to her acknowledged superiors had an air of personal\nfondness.\n\nThis woman's greatest fear was lest some one should marry her\nbrother-in-law, in consequence of which she labored incessantly to\nremove from him all dangerous acquaintances: her second source of\nterror was that her niece might be captivated by some ineligible\nperson, and the result was that every hovering monsieur and professor\nwho assisted in educating the young woman was watched as if he had\nbeen a pick-pocket. Helen Williams used to complain bitterly to the\nhousekeeper of this espionage, and Mrs. Bond used as strenuously\nto invoke the aid of the housekeeper in watching; so that the\nunfortunate woman was between two fires, and scorched pro and\ncon. But the great trial of her life was the servants. Over these\npotentates she was supposed to exercise some authority, and for some\nof their doings she was held responsible; but the fact was that\nthey laughed her to scorn. As to commanding them, Mrs. Rowan would\nas soon have thought of commanding the lancers or the cadets, and\nindeed the lancers or the cadets would quite as soon have thought of\nobeying her. But through all these mean annoyances, thanks to sorrow,\nthe quieter, she walked with a gentle patience which saved her from\nserious hurt.\n\nHappily, the person on whom her fortunes most depended put her\nquite at ease in his regard. Mr. Williams was moderately kind, not\nexpressively polite, and did not scruple to make her useful. He had\nalso certain habits which soothed her sense of inferiority, since she\ndid not consider them polite: he reached across the table sometimes\nin a shocking manner to help himself, he bolted his food when he was\nin haste, he smoked a pipe in the sitting-room without asking leave,\nand, while smoking, habitually assumed a position contrary to the\napparent intention of nature, by placing his feet higher than his\nhead. There were times when the housekeeper dared to think that she\nwas almost as much a lady as Mr. Williams was a gentleman. But she\nliked him all the better for his deficiencies. She liked him, too,\nfor the interest he took in her son.\n\nIn the fall, Mr. Williams and Major Cleaveland had entered into\npartnership, and enlarged their shipping interests, and the former\nhad said to Mrs. Rowan of Dick, \"If the boy continues to do well, we\nmust give him a ship.\"\n\nThe mother's heart beat high. In two years Dick would come back, and\nthen perhaps Mr. Williams would remember his promise. That her son\nwould deserve such favor she never doubted. Young Mr. Rowan had the\npower of inspiring every one who knew him with entire confidence.\nSo the mother set herself to endure and count away the months to\nthe coming home of her son. The winter melted, and spring came--six\nmonths nearer! The summer glowed, and grew chilly into autumn--only a\nyear longer! A second winter wore itself away--but six months left!\nand what you can have back again in six months, you touch already.\nSix months is only twenty-four weeks; and, while you are counting\nthem, the four have slipped away. What signifies five months? One\nsleeps through nearly a third of them, which leaves three months of\nconscious waiting. Hearts do not count fractions. Three months--and\nnow they begin to drag. It is July, and that month has so many days,\nand the days have so many hours in them, and the hours are so long.\nYou begin to fancy that heat dilates time as well as metals. You say\nthat it is just your luck that the only time in the year when two\nmonths in succession have thirty-one days should be precisely this\ntime. Good-by to July! I would have spoken you more courteously,\nO month of C\u00e6sar! had you not stood between my friend and me. Not\nC\u00e6sar's self may do that! Two months now; but much may happen in\nthat time: kingdoms have been lost and won in less. Fade, O summer\nflowers! for ye can bloom again when love is dead. Hasten, O fruitful\nautumn! and bring the harvest long waited for. The weeks grow less,\nand only one is left; but you dare not rejoice; so much may happen\nin a week! Days roll round with an audible jar, as if you heard the\nearth buzz on her axis, and only one is left. O God! how much may\nhappen in a day! The pendulum swings entangled in your heart-strings,\nthe minutes march like armed men. Merciful Father! hearts have broken\nin a minute. Yes; but hearts that were sinking have grown glad in a\nminute, shall grow glad, _Deo volente_. The terrible _if_ that held\nhis skeleton finger up before the face of your hope, that drove sleep\nfrom your eyes, that weighed upon you ceaselessly, shall fade to a\nshadow, and the shadow shall disappear in sunshine--_Deo volente!_\n\nThe sea was smooth--perhaps the prayers of the mother had smoothed\nit; the sky was sunny--it may have been for that mother's sake; and\none blessed tide that came running up the harbor, ripple after ripple\nfalling on the shore like breathless messengers, brought a ship in\nfrom the East with a precious freight for the owners, and for Mrs.\nRowan a freight more precious than if the ship had been piled for\nher mast-high with gold.\n\nA young man's handsome bronzed face looked eagerly through the\nrigging, and saw a carriage drawn up close to the wharf, a man\nstanding beside the open door of it, and a woman's pale face leaning\nout. The pale face turned red as he looked, and his mother's hands\nwere stretched toward him.\n\n\"O Dick! my own boy!\"\n\n\"Jump right in and go home with your mother,\" said Mr. Williams. \"I\nwant to see the captain.\"\n\nAnd this reminds us that we are before our story. Several notable\nincidents had occurred in Mrs. Rowan's life before that happy day.\nOne was that, on the first of September, just a month before, Mr.\nWilliams had asked her to be his wife. The two were sitting together\nafter tea, Helen having gone to a concert with her aunt. Mrs. Rowan\nwas hemming handkerchiefs for Mr. Williams, and thinking of Dick,\nwondering where he was and what he might be doing just at that\nmoment, and Mr. Williams was glancing over the _Evening Post_, and\nthinking of himself and his companion.\n\nIf the President of the United States, at that time General Taylor,\nhad sent Daniel Webster as his ambassador to invite Mrs. Rowan to\npreside over the White House for him, she could not have been more\nastonished.\n\nThere was nothing amazing in the manner of the proposal, however. Mr.\nWilliams had just been reading an editorial on the \"Wilmot proviso,\"\nand, having finished it, took his pipe from his mouth, glanced across\nthe table on which his elbow leaned, and said quietly, \"I've been\nthinking that we may as well get married, as we shall probably always\nlive together. Helen and Dick will some time build nests of their\nown, and they won't want either of us. I shall treat you as well as\nI always have, and I hope you will be satisfied with that, and I\nshall do something for Dick. I'm rather in love with the fellow. I\nreally cannot see why you should object, though I give you credit for\nbeing surprised. If you had expected me to ask you, I should have\ndisappointed you. Suppose we should be married before Dick gets home,\nfor a pleasant surprise for him!\"\n\nMrs. Rowan had dropped her work, and sat staring at Mr. Williams, to\nsee if he were jesting.\n\n\"I am in earnest,\" he said. \"How does the idea strike you?\"\n\n\"It strikes me\"--she stammered faintly, and stopped there.\n\n\"So I perceive,\" was the dry comment with which he put his pipe\nbetween his lips again. \"Take time. Don't be in a hurry to answer; I\nam not a frantic lover of twenty.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan sat with her hands clasped on the pile of handkerchiefs in\nher lap, and tried to think. It would be good for Dick, it would be\nbetter for Dick, it would be best for Dick. On Dick's account, she\ncould not dream of refusing; indeed, she would not have presumed to\nrefuse, even had there been no Dick in the case. But, for all that,\nMr. Williams's last sentence rang in her ears, and made her eyes\nfill. Once upon a time--so long ago!--she was young and pretty, and\nthen there was somebody handsomer, better educated, more talented\nthan this man, who was a frantic lover of twenty when he asked her\nto be his wife. If she had known better then, been more earnest and\nserious, that blossom day of her life had borne good fruit, perhaps,\ninstead of an apple of Sodom, and her husband might have been still\nliving. If she had loved him less weakly, she might have saved him.\n\n\"Well?\" said Mr. Williams, having given her ten minutes by the clock.\n\nShe started, and came back to the present. In the pain of the past\nshe was momentarily strong. \"I suppose you know best for yourself,\"\nshe said quietly; \"and I have no objection for Dick's sake.\"\n\nMr. Williams had been a little afraid of a scene, and her quiet and\nthe tears in her eyes touched him. \"I don't believe you will be sorry\nfor it, Jane,\" he said kindly. \"I have heard that you have had one\nsad experience, and I can promise you that you shall have nothing\nlike that from me.\"\n\nA slight shadow, almost a frown, passed over her face. \"You are very\nkind,\" she said in a cold voice. \"But as to the past, no one is to\nblame but me. I stand by the man I married when I was a young girl. I\nloved him then and always, and I hope to meet him again. He was too\ngood for me.\"\n\n\"All right!\" replied the merchant cheerfully, but with some surprise.\nHe had not thought that the widow possessed so much spirit. \"We need\nnot disagree about him. We can enter into a partnership for the rest\nof our lives. As to the other world, I'll ask for no mortgages on\nthat. If you run away with Mr. Rowan when we get there, I won't run\nafter you. May be somebody else will be claiming me. I'm satisfied,\nif you are. We are too old for sentiment.\"\n\nSo saying, he turned again to the _Evening Post_, and pursued his\nreading.\n\nToo old for sentiment! She looked at him with eyes in which, for a\nmoment, a high and shining wonder dilated. Why, if Richard had lived\nand prospered, and she had made him happy, she could have run to\nmeet him with roses of joy in her cheeks, though she were half a\ncentury old. She could have been as watchful of his looks and tones,\nas quick to tune her own by them, as when she was a girl. Too old for\nsentiment! Well, it takes all sorts of people to make a world, she\nthought.\n\nAn hour of silence passed, the woman sewing, the man reading. At ten\no'clock Mrs. Rowan rose to go to bed. Mr. Williams looked up. \"Let's\nsee, this is September first,\" he said. \"Suppose we call in the\nparson about the tenth?\"\n\nShe stopped--she and her breath.\n\n\"You know we need not bother about a bridal tour,\" he said. \"And I\nthink we may as well keep our own counsel. When it is all over, I'll\nintroduce you to Mrs. Bond as a new sister-in-law. Don't be afraid: I\nwill make her keep the peace. I am a justice, you know.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Mrs. Rowan. \"Do as you like.\"\n\nThere was no more said that night; but the next morning Mr. Williams\ngave the widow a short lecture on the manner in which he wished her\nto conduct herself toward those about her. \"You are too humble and\nyielding,\" he said. \"Of course, I do not expect you to change your\ncharacter; but, recollect, you have me to stand by you. If Sarah Bond\nshould annoy you, stand your ground. If the servants are impudent,\ndismiss them. If anything whatever happens displeasing to you, tell\nme the minute I get home, and I will set the matter right.\"\n\nWith that he went.\n\nAn hour after, a carriage drew up at the door, and a woman came into\nthe house, and asked to see Mrs. Rowan. She was a woman of middle\nage, and looked nervous and worried.\n\n\"I am Miss Bird, Miss Clinton's companion,\" she announced. \"Miss\nClinton wants to see you right away. She has sent the carriage for\nyou.\"\n\n\"Who is Miss Clinton?\" Mrs. Rowan asked; \"and what does she want of\nme?\"\n\nThe companion looked at her in astonishment. Not know who Miss\nClinton was! But it must be true that she did not, or she would not\nhave presumed to ask the other question. \"Miss Clinton is one of the\nfirst ladies in Boston,\" Miss Bird said, with quite a grand air.\n\"When you go to her, she will probably tell you what she wants.\"\n\n\"Cannot she come to see me?\" Mrs. Rowan asked.\n\nThis last piece of assumption was from the future Mrs. Williams, not\nfrom Mr. Williams's housekeeper.\n\n\"Why, what can you be thinking of?\" the woman cried. \"Miss Clinton\nmust be eighty years old, if not ninety. I am not sure but she is a\nhundred.\"\n\nHaving ventured so much, after a slight pause, Miss Bird went on.\n\"And she is like cider, the older she grows, the sourer she grows.\"\n\n\"Oh! then, I will go,\" Mrs. Rowan said at once. \"I didn't know she\nwas so old.\"\n\nShe did not hurry, however. She arrayed herself deliberately from\nhead to foot, and came down to find Miss Bird pacing the entry in a\nfever of impatience.\n\n\"Dear me! do come!\" exclaimed that frightened creature, and\nunceremoniously pulled Mrs. Rowan into the carriage. \"Drive for your\nlife!\" she called out then to the coachman.\n\n\"Is anything the matter with Miss Clinton?\" inquired Mrs. Rowan\nanxiously.\n\n\"Oh! bless us!\" sighed the companion. \"Something is always the\nmatter with Miss Clinton when she has to wait.\"\n\nThey reached the house--a large, old-fashioned one in a most\nrespectable locality--entered, and went up-stairs to a sunny parlor\nwith windows looking into a garden. The four walls of this room were\nentirely covered with pictures, the central places being occupied\nby four portraits of a lady, the same lady, painted in different\ncostumes, and at different ages. It was a handsome face, not without\nsigns of talent. The original of these portraits sat in an arm-chair\nnear one of the windows. The silvery curls of a wig clustered about\nher wrinkled face, a scarlet India shawl was wrapped around her tall,\nupright form, and her small hands glittered with rings. On a table at\nher elbow were her hand-bell, eye-glasses, scent-bottle, snuff-box,\nand _bonbonni\u00e8re_.\n\nAs the two entered the room, the old lady snatched her glasses, and\nput them up with a shaking hand. \"So you have got here at last!\" she\ncried out. \"Have you been taking Mr. What's-his-name's housekeeper a\ndrive on the Mill-dam, Bird?\"\n\n\"I was obliged to wait for Mrs. Rowan,\" Bird said meekly. \"She will\ntell you.\"\n\n\"I came as soon as I was ready, ma'am,\" interposed Mrs. Rowan. \"I did\nnot want to take the trouble to come at all. If you have no business\nwith me, I will go home again.\"\n\nMiss Clinton turned and stared at the speaker, noticing her for the\nfirst time.\n\n\"I have business with you,\" she said in a sharp voice, after having\nlooked the widow over deliberately. \"Come here! Bird, bring a chair,\nand then go out of the room.\"\n\nBird obeyed.\n\n\"I want to know about that Yorke girl,\" the old lady began, when\nthey were alone. \"If you wish to befriend her, you had better tell\nme all you know. As for Amy Arnold, she deserves to be poor. I will\nnot give her a dollar. She was always a sentimental simpleton, with\nher fine ideas. Not but fine ideas are good in their place: I always\nhad them, but I had common sense too. I kept my sentiments, as I keep\nmy rings and brooches, for ornament; that is the way sensible people\ndo; but she must pave the common way with hers. Fancy a girl with\nabsolute beauty, and money in expectation, if she behaved herself,\nmarrying a poor artist because, forsooth, they had congenial souls!\nCongenial fiddlesticks! If I had had the power, I would have shut\nher up till she came to her senses. I am thankful to be able to say\nthat I did box her ears soundly. Fortunately, the fellow died in\na year, and Mr. Charles Yorke took pity on her. Charles Yorke is\na respectable man, but I am not fond of him. I was fond of Robert\ntill he treated Alice Mills so. Though, indeed, it was an escape for\nAlice; for he would have broken her heart. Robert didn't know enough\nto love a plain woman.\n\n\"The little Pole knew how to make him behave himself. I rather liked\nthat girl, and I would have done something for them if Alice had not\nbeen my friend. What is the child like? Tell me all about her.\"\n\nThe door opened. \"I won't see anybody!\" Miss Clinton screamed, waving\nthe servant away. Then, as he was going, she called him back. \"Who is\nit? Alice Mills? The very one I want! Show her in!\"\n\nMrs. Rowan looked with eager interest at this visitor, and saw a\nlady of medium size, graceful figure, and plain face. Was she plain,\nthough? That was the first impression; but when she had taken Miss\nClinton's hand, and kissed her cheek tenderly, putting her other hand\non the other cheek, in a pretty, caressing way, and had asked sweetly\nof the old lady's health, Mrs. Rowan found her beautiful. So still\nand gentle, and yet so bright, was she, all harmony seemed to have\nentered the room with her. Even Miss Clinton's harsh face softened\nas she looked up at her with a gaze of fondness that had something\nimploring in it, and clung to her hand a moment.\n\n\"You have come in good time, my dear,\" she said then, in a voice far\ngentler than she had spoken with before. \"This is the person who had\ncharge of Robert Yorke's daughter.\"\n\nThe lady had seated herself close to Miss Clinton's side, with a\nhand still resting on the arm of her chair. At this announcement she\nturned rather quickly, but with instinctive courtesy, and looked\nsearchingly at Mrs. Rowan. Then she went to take her hand. \"I had\na letter from Edith to-day,\" she said, \"and she mentioned you very\naffectionately. I thought when I read it that I would go to see you.\"\n\n\"Ahem!\" coughed Miss Clinton harshly. \"Come here, Alice! I have sent\nfor Mrs. What's-her-name to tell us all about the child, so you are\nsaved the trouble of going to her.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan's impulse had been to kiss the gentle hand that touched\nhers, but this interruption checked her. Miss Mills went back to her\nseat, and the catechism began. It was not a pleasant one. More than\nonce the widow thought that \"one of the first ladies in Boston\" was\na very rude and impudent old woman; but for the sake of that sweet\nface, which seemed to entreat her forbearance, she answered civilly.\n\nThe questioning ended. \"Now you may go,\" said Miss Clinton, and,\nturning her back on Mrs. Rowan, began to talk to her friend.\n\n\"O my friend! how can you?\" exclaimed Miss Mills reproachfully. \"You\nare so kind, Mrs. Rowan,\" rising to take leave of her. \"I am glad to\nhave seen you.\"\n\nMrs. Rowan's face was crimson. What would Dick say to see his mother\nso treated? and what would Mr. Williams say?\n\n\"Why, Alice, she is that John Williams's housekeeper,\" the old woman\nsaid, when Mrs. Rowan had gone.\n\n\"And what are you?\" was the question which rose almost to the younger\nlady's indignant lips. But she suppressed it, and only showed her\ndisapproval by sitting silent a moment.\n\n\"Did you expect me to get up and make a court courtesy?\" pursued Miss\nClinton. \"Why, I wouldn't do that for you, my dear. And why should\nI not tell her to go? I had no more to say to her, and I dare say\nshe was glad to get away. If people fell in love with me as they do\nwith you, you soft creature! then I might be sweeter with them; but\nthey hate me, and so I can afford to be sincere. It saves trouble,\nbesides.\"\n\n\"If every one practised that sort of sincerity, we should soon lapse\ninto barbarism,\" was the quiet reply.\n\n\"If you only came here to lecture and scold me, you had better have\nstaid away,\" the old woman cried, beginning to tremble.\n\nThe other said nothing, only sat and looked steadily at her. With\nAlice Mills, charity was a virtue, not a weakness. She beheld with\npain and terror this woman, whose whole life had been one of utter\nselfishness, who was going down to the grave with no love in her\nheart for God nor her neighbor. She knew that she was the only one\nwho dared to speak the truth to Miss Clinton, and therefore she\ndared not be silent. She knew that she was the only one in whom the\nlonely old sinner believed, or whom she could be influenced by; and\nit was one of the prayerful studies of her life how best to use\nthat power. To yield to pity, and refrain from reproof, would be to\nencourage faults which had become habitual; so, instead of coaxing\nand soothing, she only waited for submission, not to herself, but\nto right and justice. The time for Miss Clinton's conversion was so\nshort, and the progress had been so slow, this friend was almost\ntempted to despair. \"Final impenitence\" seemed to be written in those\nhard old eyes, on that bitter old mouth.\n\nMiss Clinton scolded, then complained, then bemoaned herself, finally\nsubmitted. \"You know, Alice, I have got so in the habit of ordering\npeople about, and most people are so slavish, I do not think,\" she\nsaid, wiping her eyes.\n\nThat was all her friend asked--a sense of having done wrong. Then\ncame the time for soothing, and for bright and cheerful talk.\n\nAfter such a regimen, it might reasonably be supposed that Miss\nClinton would treat her next visitor with decent civility; and the\nimmediate happy result of the lesson was that for that day Bird\nescaped further abuse.\n\nWhen, a fortnight later, Miss Mills told the old lady that Mr.\nWilliams and Mrs. Rowan were married, Miss Clinton was astounded.\n\"That accounts for her turning so red when I told her to go,\" she\nsaid. \"Well, well, I must be polite to Bird. For anything I know, she\nmay be engaged to John C. Calhoun.\"\n\nMr. Calhoun was one of the old lady's idols.\n\n\"Married his housekeeper!\" she pursued dreamily. \"What a _potpourri_\nsociety is becoming! Though now I think of it, John Williams came\nfrom nothing.\"\n\n\"We all came from nothing, dear,\" said the other softly, \"and soon we\nshall return to nothing.\"\n\nYes, Mrs. Rowan was married, and quite at home in her new character.\nMrs. Bond had been met in open field, challenged, engaged, and\nrouted. At present she was at home nursing her wounds; but we may\nconfidently expect that in time she will hand in her submission to\nthe powers that be. They were quite willing to wait: their impatience\nwas not devouring. Their minds were pleasantly occupied about this\ntime by several things. Dick's return was the principal joyful event.\nBesides that, Major Cleaveland was visiting them. He had come up to\nsuperintend the refurnishing of his town-house for the reception of a\nbride. His marriage was to take place in a week or two at Seaton, and\nhis partner, with his new wife and step-son, were invited to go down\nand be present at the ceremony. Mrs. Rowan-Williams had hesitated\nvery much about accepting the invitation, but it was urged by the\nbridegroom-elect; Mr. Williams was disposed to go, Dick looked his\ndesire to go, Edith had written a coaxing letter, and even Hester\nYorke had sent a very pretty note, hoping that they would come. So it\nwas decided that they should go.\n\nWhy should Hester Yorke's invitation be of special consequence,\ndoes any one ask? Having been put off as long as was possible, the\ntruth must be told at last, though with great dissatisfaction. Miss\nHester Yorke is to be the bride. Instead of fixing his affections on\nMelicent, who was twenty years his junior, or Clara, who was twenty\ntwo, nothing would satisfy this man but Hester, the youngest, and\nHester he won.\n\nBut it was a good while before he won the father and mother. Mr.\nYorke consented first, rather ungraciously, but Mrs. Yorke did\nnot yield till the last minute, and then only to her husband's\nsolicitations.\n\n\"If Hester is satisfied to marry a man old enough to be her father,\"\nhe said, \"we may as well consent. The age is the only objection.\"\n\n\"Hester is satisfied now,\" the mother said anxiously; \"but she is\nonly a child. We do not know how it will be ten years hence, when her\ncharacter will be more developed. She will then be twenty-eight, and\nhe fifty. \"Oh! I have no patience with these ridiculous widowers!\"\nAnd the lady wrung her hands.\n\n\"You misjudge Hester, my dear,\" the husband said. \"She has developed\nall she ever will. She is no pomegranate in the bud, but a cherry\nfully ripened. Have you never observed that whatever is hers is\nalways perfect in her eyes? She is ready now to maintain to the world\nthat this is the most beautiful house that ever was built; that\nrat-holes are an advantage; that our furniture is the more desirable\nfor being worn; that our roses are finer than any others, our vines\nmore graceful, our birds more musical. Why, my dear, she thinks that\nI am a beauty!\"\n\nA soft little laugh rippled over Mrs. Yorke's lips. \"So do I!\" she\nsaid.\n\n\"That is because you look at me with such beautiful eyes,\" replied\nthe gentleman gallantly. It was not often that his personal\nappearance was complimented. \"But, to return: Hester will be the\nsame to her husband. Once married to him, she will be absolutely\nconvinced that there is not to be found his equal. I have no fear\nbut that, ten years hence, if Major Cleaveland should be placed by\nthe side of the most magnificent man on earth, Hester would maintain\nboldly that her husband was the superior. No; I anticipate no trouble\nfor a long while. The only disagreeable view I take is, that when\nHester is fifty, the golden middle age for a healthy woman, she will\nbe nursing a childish old man of seventy-four, instead of having an\nequal friend and companion.\"\n\n\"Dear me!\" exclaimed the wife, \"I cannot possibly weep over what may\nhappen thirty-two years hence.\"\n\nAnd so the matter was settled; and now the Major was doing his utmost\nin honor of the event. The house in Seaton had been already put\nin perfect order, and the house in town was now, as we see, being\nadorned. They were to come there immediately, after a quiet wedding\nat Hester's home.\n\nWhen Major Cleaveland returned to Seaton, a week after the wedding,\nhe carried two offerings from Mrs. Rowan, one for the bride-elect,\nthe other for Edith. Hester's present was quite simple, a package of\nphotographic views taken in the city of Peking, and, seen through\na stereoscope, almost as good as a visit to that city. But Dick's\noffering to Edith was an extravagant one: it was a Maltese cross set\nwith emeralds.\n\nThis gift created a warm discussion in the Yorke family, who were\nalmost unanimous against Edith's accepting it. Carl was especially\nindignant. \"Edith is almost a young lady,\" he said; \"and the fellow\nis presuming in sending her such a present. If he does not know\nbetter, he should be taught.\" Even Mrs. Yorke was disposed to be\nstrict. But when they had all spoken, it was found that Edith had a\nvoice.\n\nThey were in the sitting-room with Major Cleaveland, who had just\narrived, and Mrs. Yorke was in the centre of the group. She had\nopened the box, and held the cross up glittering against her white\nhand. Edith had not touched it. She stood beside her aunt's chair,\nand listened while the discussion went on. Her eyes were cast down,\nand she seemed perfectly quiet; but, while she listened, into her\nusually pale cheeks a color grew, deepening from pink to a glowing\ncrimson.\n\n\"I shall not refuse Dick's present,\" she said decidedly, when they\ncame to a pause; and as she spoke up went her eyelids. Finding that\nDick had no other friend but her, that he had enemies, perhaps,\nthat his feelings were not to be counted, instantly she came to the\nrescue. As her glance flashed swiftly around the circle, it was as\nthough a blade had been swung before their eyes.\n\n\"But, my dearest Edith,\" began Melicent, and then went over the whole\nargument again in her most suave and convincing manner.\n\n\"I know it all,\" Edith replied firmly. \"I know what people consider\nproper about presents; but this is not a common case. I would not\ntake that cross from Carl, nor from any other gentleman. But Dick is\nlike no one else to me, and he shall not be hurt nor offended. He\ntook pains to get the present, and thought a good deal about it, and\nbrought it over the ocean for me, and was in hopes that I would be\npleased; and I will not disappoint him.\"\n\nMrs. Yorke took the girl's hand affectionately, the disputed jewel\ndropping in her lap. \"I would not hurt his feelings for the world, my\nlove,\" she said. \"Leave it all to me. I will explain to him so that\nhe cannot be offended.\"\n\n\"Aunt Amy, no one in the world can explain between Dick Rowan and\nme,\" said Edith, withdrawing her hand. \"You have been good to me,\nall of you, and I love you, and will obey you when it is right. But\nthis isn't right: it is only what people who know nothing about it\nthink proper. Dick was good to me first of all. Mamma used to have\nhim take care of me when I was a tiny little girl; and, after mamma\ndied, he did everything for me. If I wanted anything, he got it for\nme if he could; and if I broke his playthings and tore his books, he\nnever scolded me. I remember once I hit him with a stick, and almost\nput his eye out; and when I cried, he kissed me and said, 'I know you\ndidn't mean to, dear,' before his eye had stopped aching. That was\nthe way he always did. And afterward, when the children laughed at\nme, because I was poor and queer, and they threw mud and stones at me\nhere in the streets of Seaton, Dick fought them, he alone against the\nwhole. And I never cried but he comforted me. I could not tell all\nthat he did for me, though I should talk a week. I won't turn him off\nnow. If he wanted to die for me, I'd let him; for it would be more\nthan cruel to refuse. So, Aunt Amy, please to give me the cross. I am\ngoing to wear it always.\"\n\nThey were all silent at this first outbreak of her who had often\nwon from Carl the greeting of Coriolanus to his wife, \"My gracious\nsilence, hail!\" No one had the heart to refuse any longer, whatever\nmight be the consequences of yielding.\n\nEdith took the chain, and hung it about her neck, looking down on the\ncross a moment as it rested on her bosom. \"Green means hope,\" she\nsaid.\n\nCarl left the room. No one else said anything. Her address had\nstruck too near home. They might forget the time when she had been\npoor and homeless, but she was not obliged to; and they could not in\nconscience quite disentangle her from her past.\n\n\"Dearest Aunt Amy, do smile again!\" Edith entreated, putting her arms\naround Mrs. Yorke's neck. \"You are not displeased with me! Don't you\nremember you told Dick that ingratitude is the vice of slaves?\"\n\n\"Dear child, you do as you will with me,\" her aunt sighed; and so the\ndispute ended.\n\nOne day of the next week, as the steamer came ploughing up the\nNarrows into Seaton Bay, Mrs. Williams and her son sat in a corner of\nthe deck by themselves. Mr. Williams, slightly sea-sick, was below.\nThere were not many passengers that day, and no one seemed to have\nrecognized these two. They sat leaning on the rail and looking off\nover the water. It could scarcely be expected that they would not\nfeel some emotion on such a return to their native town after such a\ndeparture, and Dick held his mother's trembling hand tight in his,\nwhich, indeed, was scarcely steady.\n\nA low, sandy island lay before them, and seemed to toss on the\nsurface of the bay. \"I wish I could go over there before we go home\nagain,\" the mother whispered, looking up wistfully into her son's\nface.\n\n\"No!\" he answered. \"We shall be commented on and watched sufficiently\nas it is. Let the dead past bury its dead. It is a shame and\ndisgrace. I cannot have it dragged up again.\"\n\nHe spoke firmly, and his mother was silenced. She feared her son in\nhis rare moods of sternness. They awed her far more than his earlier\npassions had. Those she had understood, and could soothe; but now he\nwas growing out of her knowledge. Besides, she did not dream what\nan ordeal his meeting with Edith's family was to be to him. To her\nsimplicity, Hester's invitation and Edith's allowed intercourse with\nthem seemed an entire adoption; but he knew better. On the whole, it\nwas a time above all when he least desired to be remembered of his\nfather.\n\nAs they neared the wharf, they saw Major Cleaveland standing there,\nwith a tall, slim girl beside him. She wore a black riding-cap and\nfeather, and a glimpse of scarlet petticoat showed as she gathered\nup her riding-skirt. The disengaged hand was flung out with a quick\nwelcoming gesture as she saw them, and a flush went over her face.\n\nMr. Rowan drew back to let Mr. and Mrs. Williams land first, and\nwaited till his mother had received the first greeting. Then he took\nEdith's hand, and looked down at her as she looked up at him. Her\neyes sparkled, and she breathed quickly with joy. There was not, he\nsaw, a cloud over the delight with which she met him.\n\n\"Dick,\" she said ecstatically, after a minute, \"I think that you are\nperfectly splendid!\"\n\nIn the old times they had used each other's eyes for mirrors: why not\nnow?\n\n\"You do!\" said the young man, tossing his head with a slight laugh.\n\n\"Thank you!\"\n\n\"But you have grown,\" she pursued, contemplating him with great\nadmiration. \"And have not I grown tall?\"\n\nShe stood back blushingly to be inspected.\n\n\"You're a pretty fair height,\" Dick said with an air of moderation.\n\n\"Come, they're waiting for us. Is this your pony?\"\n\nHe lifted her to the saddle, then stepped into the carriage, and she\nrode alongside. He looked at her, and every nerve in him vibrated\nwith triumph. She wore his cross on her bosom! They had not thought\nhow much he had dared to mean by that. \"If they let her take the\ncross, they will let her take me,\" he had said. If the gift had been\nrefused, he would never have seen Edith again.\n\n\"It is most beautiful,\" she said, catching his glance. \"I got Father\nRasle to bless it, and I wear it all the time.\"\n\nPresently Edith began to take notice of Mrs. Williams; and as she\nlooked, her wonder grew. Mrs. Rowan had possessed only a wisp of\nfaded hair: Mrs. Williams had a profuse and shining _chevelure_. Mrs.\nRowan's teeth had been few and far between: Mrs. Williams's smile\ndisclosed two unbroken and immaculate rows of ivory. But for the\nlingering lines in the forehead, and the kind eyes, and the simple\nways, Edith would scarcely have recognized her old friend.\n\nIt was time for an early dinner when they reached the house, and\nEdith was to stay all day, and be hostess. It had been agreed that,\nunder the circumstances, no hospitable cares could be expected from\ntheir host. His visitors were to use his house as a hotel, and do\nquite as they pleased in it. But in the afternoon, Major Cleaveland\ninsisted that Mr. Rowan should go with him and call upon Hester, who\nwished to thank him without delay for the pretty present he had sent\nher. Dick would much have preferred remaining where he was; but he\nwent, and was received with the utmost cordiality by all but Carl,\nwho was not visible.\n\nBut Carl came up in the evening to escort Edith home, and had then\n\"the honor of making Mr. Rowan's acquaintance\" in a remarkably cool\nand ceremonious fashion.\n\n\"Mother thought you had better come home early, Edith, because we\nmust all be up early in the morning,\" he said, after a little very\npolite and very constrained talk. \"Besides,\" he added, with a slight\nsmile, \"I believe Patrick does not allow his horse to be out after\nnine o'clock. He lent him to me very grudgingly.\"\n\nThe night was one of perfect silence as the two rode homeward under\nthe stars, and they were not talkative. Scarcely a word was spoken\ntill they had crossed the bridge, and were riding up North Street.\nThen Edith spoke in a low voice:\n\n\"Are you tired, Carl?\"\n\n\"No, thank you. Are you?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThen there was silence for a while, till Edith began again:\n\n\"Carl, do not you think that Mrs. Williams is pleasant?\"\n\n\"I did not observe,\" he replied coolly. \"I scarcely heard her speak.\nI do not doubt that she is pleasant to you.\"\n\n\"Oh! you talked with Mr. Williams,\" she said. \"Did you like him?\"\n\n\"Not particularly.\"\n\nAnother silence. They had turned from the public road, and were being\nenclosed in the forest.\n\n\"How did you like Dick Rowan, Carl?\" The question came with a faint\nsense of strain in the voice, and it was not answered immediately.\n\n\"I hope you will not expect me to be as fond of him as you are,\" he\nsaid presently. \"He may be like a brother to you, but to me he is a\nstranger.\"\n\n\"But what do you think of him?\" she persisted.\n\n\"He is very handsome,\" Carl said in a quiet tone, \"and he looks like\nan honest fellow. I have no fault to find with him.\"\n\nThey turned up the avenue, alighted, and went up the steps together.\n\n\"Carl,\" said Edith wistfully, \"are you troubled about anything?\"\n\n\"What should trouble me, child?\" he asked, with a touch of kindness\nin his voice.\n\n\"I do not know,\" she sighed. \"Then are you vexed with me about\nanything?\"\n\n\"No, Edith,\" he said, \"I have no reason to be vexed with any one but\nmyself. Good-night, dear!\"\n\nShe echoed the good-night, and went up-stairs, not nearly so happy as\nshe had expected to be that night.\n\nThe next morning the marriage took place. For Hester's sake we will\nsay that the bride was lovely, and the wedding a pretty one. But we\nwill not further celebrate Major Cleaveland's anachronistic nuptials.\n\nThe Williamses were to leave town in the evening. They dined at the\nYorkes', and went away immediately after dinner. Edith was to walk\ndown to the hotel with him, and stay there till the stage-coach\nshould come for him.\n\n\"And we will walk the very longest way, Dick,\" she said. \"I have\nhardly had a chance to speak to you yet. We have plenty of time, for\nthey have to go up after their valises.\"\n\nWhile Edith ran up-stairs for her hat, Mr. Rowan took leave of the\nothers, and Mrs. Yorke walked out into the portico with him. The lady\nseemed to find difficulty in uttering something which she wished to\nsay. But when she heard her niece coming, she spoke hastily. \"Mr.\nRowan, Edith is but a child!\"\n\nHis face blushed up. \"I do not forget that, Mrs. Yorke,\" he said;\n\"but also, I do not forget that she is a child I have many a time\ncarried in my arms.\"\n\n\"A very headstrong young man!\" thought Mrs. Yorke, as she watched the\ntwo go down the steps together.\n\nThey went up the road, to strike into East Street, instead of down;\nand as the road, after passing the house, ceased almost entirely,\nthey soon found themselves in a narrow forest track. Over their heads\nhung the splendid crimson and gold canopy of maples and beeches\nmingled, and vines ran through every glowing tone from garnet-black\nup to rose-color, or hung in deep purple masses. The mountain-ash\nbent to offer its clusters of red berries, and there was no tiniest\nshrub nor leaf but had its gala autumn dress. A blue mist showed\nfaintly through the long forest reaches, and rich earth-odors rose on\nthe moist air.\n\nThe immense conversation which was to have been held seemed to be\nforgotten; scarcely a word was said till they came out into the\neastern road. Then Edith pointed across the way, and said, \"Is it not\nlovely?\" and they stopped a moment to look.\n\nThere was a tract of low swampy land there silvered over with mist,\nthat seemed scarcely to rise a foot above it. Through this mist\nshowed a fine emerald-green thick with pink and purple blooms, and\nover it swam a yellow-bird, in smooth undulations, as if it floated\non a tide.\n\nThe two stood there for some time in silence, till that picture was\nperfectly painted on the memory of each. Then they walked on into the\nvillage. In a few minutes after they reached the hotel, the coach\ncame down from Major Cleaveland's with Mr. and Mrs. Williams in it,\nthe fare-wells were said, and they were gone.\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nA DESPAIRING CHAPTER.\n\nAfter all, no person's story can be truly told without beginning\nat the creation of the world. Not that we would invoke Darwinian\naid, or inquire into the family peculiarities of the sponge--\"O\nphiloprogenitive sponge!\" Nor would we intimate that the soul is\nas passive to circumstances as a rudderless ship to wind and wave,\nbut assert rather that it is like the steamer, the great struggling\ncreature, with a will at heart. But circumstances are strong, even\nvery old circumstances, and our ancestors have a word to say, not as\nto our final destination, but as to the road by which we shall reach\nit. Coarser natures get their bent after the manner commemorated by\nthe Mohammedan legend: some Eblis of an ancestor spurned their clay\nwith his foot when the angels had kneaded it, and the dent is long in\nfilling out; but finer souls are strung like the wind-harp, and from\nthe long line-gale of ghosts preceding them is stretched now and then\na viewless finger, which sets vibrating some silent inherited chord.\nIs it a vanishing and perpetually recurring strain of a Gregorian\nchant, breaking awfully into the pauses of a godless life? Is it an\nairily riotous Bacchic wreathing the slow minims of a choral? Catch\nup the strain and repeat it as you will, all your life shall be a\npalimpsest with _Te Deum laudamus_ written largely over the fading\nerrors; still the merit of good-will is not all your own. Or trip as\nyour dutiful measure may, tangled in that wild song; the fault is not\nall yours. Many a Cassius may claim indulgence on the score of some\nrash inherited humor.\n\nDoes the reader perceive that we are trying to excuse somebody?\n\nThe truth is, Carl has disappointed us. We meant him to be an\nexquisite and heroic creation, perfect in every way; and we had a\nright to expect that our intentions would be realized; did not we\nmake him ourself? But just as the clay model was finished, and we\nwere complacently admiring it, into our _atelier_ stepped the grand\nantique mother, Nature. She came with a sound of scornful sweet\nlaughter, which seemed to roll cloud-wise under her feet, and curl\nup around the strong and supple form, and wreathe the wide slope of\nher shoulders. \"Look you,\" she said, and pointed her finger, a little\nshaken with merriment, \"that is not the way _I_ make men. There are\nno muscles in those limbs, there is no sight under that brow, there\nis no live heart beating in that narrow chest. You have left no\nchance for a soul to get into your manikin.\" So saying, she stretched\nher finger yet further, and mockingly pushed it through the skull of\nour model; then disappeared, leaving all the air behind her tremulous\nwith mirth.\n\nLet us hurry over the present of this Carl with a hole in his head,\nout of which all his ideal perfections are escaping, but into which\nhis true soul may some day enter. Outwardly he is studying law,\ninwardly he is studying chaos. What books Mr. Griffeth gave him\nto read, we know not; but we do know that the sentences were like\nsmooth, strong fingers untying from him many of the restraints\nof his former education. With Theodore Parker, he could call the\nsacred Scriptures the \"Hebrew mythology,\" and describe baptism as\n\"being ecclesiastically sprinkled with water;\" and having got so\nfar--\"What,\" said he, \"is the use of Mr. Theodore Parker?\" and so\ndropped him. The conversations Mr. Griffeth held with him we know\nlittle of, but may presume that they were not profitable. We only\nknow that they were frequent. The two were constantly together, more\nconstantly than suited Mr. Yorke, who lost faith in the minister. \"He\nhas no pity,\" he said. \"He seems to have studied theology only to\nsee how many sins he can commit without losing his soul.\" But this\ndisapprobation of his step-father's had no effect on the young man,\nwho was perfectly infatuated with his new friend. This quiet life of\nCarl's had produced a mental stagnation, from which arose all sorts\nof miasmata. He dimly knew them as such, but that did not prevent his\nbreathing and poisoning himself with them. Perhaps he also suspected\nthat Mr. Griffeth's wings would melt off if he were exposed to a\nstrong and searching light; but the companionship was fascinating,\nand Carl fancied that he had found his like. It was not so; they were\nalike only as sharp six and flat seven are; they had identical moods;\nbut Carl stooped to where his new friend rose.\n\nOne of the fine things the young man learned was the use of opium.\n\"It makes you feel like a god while it lasts,\" says Mr. Griffeth,\n\"puts you into a perfectly Olympian state. But I warn you,\" he added,\nwith a tardy touch of conscience, \"it does not last long, and from\nOlympia you sink to Hades.\"\n\n\"And then,\" says Carl, \"you go about as Dante did, with your hands\nfolded under your mantle, and people stand aside, and whisper about\nyou. I will take the dark with the bright.\"\n\nSo saying, he measured out the drops, and drank them with the\ninvocation: \"Come, winged enchantment, and bear me wherever thou\nwilt.\"\n\nReader, didst thou ever see one dear to thee made tipsy with liquor?\nand dost thou remember the mingled pain, and pity, and contempt with\nwhich thou didst look on his abasement? A man, a king of the earth,\na brother of saints, a friend of the Crucified, a child of the Most\nHigh, grovelling thus!\n\nOne comfort, nature, and not we, made this man fall so. O better\ncomfort! he is earning mountain-loads of self-contempt, which shall\none day be paid with interest.\n\nOnly a few other items have we to record at this time. The young\nladies had made their proposed literary venture--Melicent with signal\nfailure, Clara with partial success. Publishers had twenty-five\ndifferent reasons, each better than the last, why a volume of\nEuropean travels would not be at that particular time a fortunate\nventure, and were unanimously unable to say at what future period the\nprospect would be brighter. Miss Yorke was not entirely blind. She\nperceived that her book was a failure, and withdrew it. Whether she\ncontemplated any other work, her family did not know. She maintained\na profound silence on the subject. They suspected, however, that\nshe was studying out a novel. Clara's first story, read with great\napplause to the family at home, was modestly offered to a respectable\nsecond-class magazine, and accepted, with a request for more. So Miss\nClara occupies the proud position of being independent in the matter\nof pocket-money, and an occasional benefactor to the others.\n\nOf more consequence to us is the fact that Father Rasle is now\nsettled in Seaton, and building a church there. Something else is\nalso being built in Seaton--a \"Native American\" society, alias\nKnow-nothing. This society excited much attention and enthusiasm,\nespecially in Mr. Griffeth's congregation, and among their friends.\nAll the young men joined it. It seemed precisely to suit the genius\nof Seaton.\n\nAgainst this party Mr. Charles Yorke fought with all his strength.\nIt was contrary to the spirit of the constitution, he persisted; it\nhad nothing in common with the Declaration of Independence. The views\nand aims of the party were narrow and bigoted, and their leaders were\nignorant demagogues.\n\nBut all that he gained by his denunciations was unpopularity, and\nthe party prospered yet more. It had not only the young and the\ninfidel for active members; it had a sly encouragement from Mr.\nGriffeth, a cool approval from Doctor Martin, and an earnest help\nfrom the Rev. Mr. Conway, the gentleman whom we left in a soiled\nstate half-way from Bragon to Seaton. He had preached the next Sunday\nwith acceptance to his congregation, and was now settled among them.\nWe may remark that he has not yet forgiven Mr. Griffeth the mistake\nabout the pulpit, nor will he be convinced that it was a mistake.\nIn consequence of this obduracy, the two ministers live in a state\nof feud, in which their congregations take part, to the slight\ndisedification of old-fashioned people.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SERIAL LITERATURE OF ENGLAND.\n\n\nConsidering the number of periodicals at present published in Great\nBritain, the extent of their aggregate circulation, and the range\nand variety of topics discussed in their pages, their effect on\nthe public mind of that country for good or evil can scarcely be\noverestimated. A magazine holds a middle place between the legitimate\nliterature of books and the ephemeral and generally ill-digested\neffusions of newspapers, and appeals, especially to the middle\nclasses, as it were, in science, taste, and art. Business men\nwho have not time to read long histories or elaborately compiled\nscientific works, and indolent ones who have not industry enough to\ndo so, seek information or pleasure in perusing their periodicals,\nwhile the traveller as he is hurried along over the ocean or the\nrailroad, and the overwrought student as he closes his ponderous\nfolio or lays aside his pen, alike find recreation and relief in the\nlighter and more mirthful contributions which, judiciously dispersed,\nusually grace the pages of our monthly and semi-monthly press. Books,\ntoo, of late have accumulated to such a fearful extent that the\nbibliographer finds it impossible to read even a moiety of them to\nascertain their value, and so is forced to form his opinion of them\nsecond-hand by accepting the _dicta_ of the industrious reviewer,\nwhose decision, when judiciously and intelligently given, thus\nbecomes of the utmost benefit to authors and readers.\n\nOf late years the number and variety of English magazines have\ngreatly increased, and we presume the patronage bestowed on them has\nkept pace with their growth. We would be glad to be in a position\nto say that, in liberality of spirit, fairness and originality,\nthe improvement is equally apparent; but such is not the case,\nand in this respect forms a marked contrast to the progress which\ndistinguishes a similar class of publications in this and some\nEuropean countries. Propriety of expression and artistic construction\nof sentences, which have always characterized the composition of\nEnglish writers, even of second or third order of ability, remain,\nbut much of the force, mental grasp, and wide range of view, as\nwell as profound and exact knowledge, which once distinguished\ntheir criticisms and essays, are wanting. We are aware that the\ngeneration of able men whose genius once illuminated the columns of\n_Blackwood_, _Fraser_, _Household Words_, etc., has passed away; but\nwhy have they left us no literary heirs, no worthy successors, to\nfill their places and wield their trenchant pens? Has the English\nmind deteriorated, or is it that English public taste has become so\ncorrupted by the unwholesome sweets of the Trollopes, the Braddons,\nand like sensationalists, that it rejects the salutary food presented\nit by more serious and natural writers? We can hardly believe that\nthis latter is the efficient cause; for before the era of Griffin,\nDickens, Thackeray, Lever, and many other favorite authors, several\nof whose admirable novels and essays first reached the public through\nthe magazines, the taste of the masses was even more vitiated by the\nromances of the last century, hundreds of which were sure to be\nfound on the shelves of every circulating library in the country.\nNeither can we properly attribute this \"dearth of fame\" to a want\nof adequate pecuniary reward; for we are assured that encouragement\nin this respect is sufficiently ample, and, compared with that of a\ngeneration ago, might be called munificent. We are, therefore, forced\nto the conclusion that there is an actual present deficiency of\nmentality among the majority of English writers--another indication,\nperhaps, of that decay of the Anglo-Saxon race, so-called, in England\nwhich has been so long and so pertinaciously asserted by her rivals.\nIt is certainly true that the spirit of money-getting is more and\nmore engrossing the attention of the people; and, while other and\nyounger nations, like Russia, Germany, and the United States, are\nrapidly growing into immense proportions, both artistic and literary\nas well as politically, England, wrapped up mentally in her own\nself-conceit, as she is geographically shackled by the four seas, is\nsinking into comparative provincialism.\n\nThe tone and temper of her writers when treating foreign subjects,\nwe submit, amply prove this, were all other evidence wanting. Their\nviews of the affairs of other nations lack fairness, amplitude, and,\nnot unfrequently, truthfulness, and always seem like those of men who\nlook upon the broad outer world through the wrong end of a spy-glass.\nCan anything be more unjust than the following passage, which we find\n_en passant_ in an article on France in the May number of _Blackwood_?\n\n    \"There is, however, one cause of hopelessness as\n    regards France, and for the life of me I do not see\n    how it is to be encountered. Here are the people who\n    not only asserted that they were the politest and most\n    civilized, but the bravest and boldest in Europe, now\n    exhibiting themselves not only as utterly degraded and\n    debased, but actually as destitute of courage as of\n    morals.\"\n\nApart from the want of generosity exhibited by the writer above in\nthus ungraciously stigmatizing an unfortunate ally, his estimate of\nher condition is exceedingly unfair, and, as he professes in the\narticle to have been a frequent visitor to her shores in bygone days,\nwe must attribute his obliquity to something else than ignorance.\nIn her recent struggle, France showed nothing like cowardice; but,\non the contrary, her children, veterans and recruits, exhibited a\ncourage and heroism worthy of her proudest days of military glory.\nHer signal and rapid overthrow was due to other causes than the\nwant of bravery of her soldiers. Within the space of about two\nhundred days, her badly organized, poorly equipped, and generally\nindifferently commanded troops fought seventeen pitched battles and\none hundred and sixty-five general engagements against three-quarters\nof a million of the best disciplined troops in Europe. Of the merits\nof the quarrel we have nothing to say, but we feel assured that the\ntroops of Kaiser William would feel little complimented at being told\nthat their splendid victories were gained over a demoralized and\ncowardly nation. As to France being destitute of morals, the contrary\nis the fact. It is true that Paris, like London and other large\ncentres of population, contains much that is immoral and unholy; but\nParis is no longer France, and those best acquainted with the whole\ncountry allege that religion was never more securely enthroned in the\nhearts of the people, nor her ministers so much respected, as at the\npresent moment.\n\nAmerican questions are treated by our transatlantic contemporaries\nin a manner somewhat different. Occasionally they speak of us in\nimpartial and even complimentary terms, but generally in a vein\nof lofty patronage, such as an indulgent and much-enduring father\nmight be supposed to use to his erring but not altogether godless\noffspring. If we exhibit a leaning toward Russia, we are forthwith\nadmonished to beware of encouraging despotism; if we recall our\nancient friendship with France, we are likely to be reminded that\nwith England we are the same in language, blood, and religion;\nbut, if there is a treaty favorable to the \"mother-country\" to be\nconcocted, or a European coalition adverse to the interests of our\nmother aforesaid apprehended, Shakespeare, Milton, and Newton are\nresurrected and become our joint inheritance, and Great Britain and\nthe United States are instantly declared to be two, and the only\ntwo, \"free governments in the universe\" having a common interest\nand a common destiny. Occasionally this maternal surveillance is\nvaried by an allusion to our social or topographical peculiarities,\nreally ludicrous from its very absurdity, while it shows, with all\nthis assumption of superiority, how very inaccurate is the knowledge\nof our kind relations. In a late article on the destruction of\nthe ancient forests, a writer in the _Fortnightly Review_ gravely\nprotests against \"the further destruction of scenery unique in Great\nBritain, and, if represented in America at all, but imperfectly\nrepresented by the oak openings of Michigan.\" Now, if an American\nwere to talk of the extensive prairies of Caermarthenshire or\nthe picturesque mountains of Kent, his ignorance of the physical\npeculiarities of even those small subdivisions would be apt to evoke\nthe severe censure of our London critics.\n\nAgain, in their reviews of American works, the English magazines,\nwhether through design or from want of knowing better, usually fall\ninto serious error in respect to the constituent elements of our\npopulation. They affect to regard the American mind simply as a\nmere emanation of that of England, weakened, it is true, by time\nand distance, but still worthy of some consideration. How such a\npatent fallacy can be tolerated in that country, our nearest European\nneighbor as we are her best customer, is incomprehensible. We have,\nit is true, generally adopted what was good in her civil polity at\nthe time of the Revolution, and the majority of us speak her language\nas our native tongue; but we are no more English than we are German,\nIrish, French, or Spanish in our origin, temperament, habits of\nthought, or development of genius. We are all these combined, as\nwell as something more which only the free spirit of a republic can\ncall into being, and, if modesty would permit us, we could say with\ntruthfulness that there is contained within that word \"American\" all\nthe best elements of every European race. The latest instance of this\nself-deception we recently noticed in _Saint Paul's Magazine_, in\nwhat was otherwise a very excellent notice of Hawthorne's works.\n\nBut America has the advantage of the practical arguments of material\nprosperity and rapidly developing \u00e6sthetic tastes on her side, and is\nfast becoming indifferent to adverse criticism. With less fortunate\ncountries, like Ireland, for instance, the case is altogether\ndifferent. The English magazine writers, when at a loss for an\nillustration or \"an awful example,\" never hesitate to draw on the\nhistory or pretended history of the sister kingdom for the required\nmaterials. We have before us some dozen periodicals published in\nLondon and Edinburgh, the majority of the articles in which are\neither on Irish topics or contain allusions to the affairs of that\nunfortunate and misgoverned people, and that, too, as it may be\nsupposed, in no very partial or eulogistic terms. This unrelenting\nhostility to a weak nation, while it may do very well for placemen\nand land-agents who live by the griefs and afflictions of others,\nis unworthy the chivalrous spirit which should distinguish the true\nknight of the quill. We fear, however, that Burke's saying with\nregard to the chivalry of the middle ages is equally applicable to\nour own times, and that the free lances of the English metropolis,\nwho will fight in any and every cause, are more in demand than the\nearnest searchers after truth and the honest correctors of public\nmorals.\n\nWe argue this from two facts: It is not unusual for the same person\nto be employed in writing for two or more publications altogether\nopposed in aim and character; and, secondly, from the total absence\nof anything like religious sentiment in nearly the entire periodical\npress, if we except those published in the direct interests of\nProtestantism, and in those it degenerates into absolute bigotry.\nWe do not say that all the magazines are positively immoral, but\nthey certainly are negatively so, and in this respect probably more\ndangerous to the well-being of society. Take their method of treating\nsome late publications which have been much spoken of, for example.\nWe find that Darwin's elaborately nonsensical theory of the origin\nof the human race is handled with as much delicacy and seriousness\nas if the reviewers had grave doubts in their own minds as to\nwhether their ancestors had or had not been monkeys, or at least as\nif they considered it an open question not yet definitely settled;\nwhile the blasphemies of Renan, instead of eliciting condemnation\nand reproof, are carefully and quietly reproduced and laid before\nthe reader with a gentle caution against their novelty. Still, the\nprevailing tone of the English magazines can scarcely be said to be\nactively anti-Catholic or unchristian. It partakes more of paganism\nin a modified form, which, while not openly violating the laws of\nsociety, practically ignores the interference of Providence in the\naffairs of men, like the Universalist preacher whose highest eulogy,\nas pronounced by a friend, was that he was perfectly neutral in\npolitics and religion. The short prose fiction sketches in which the\nEnglish periodicals abound and which in artistic merit far excel\nours, are based on the same inamiable sentimentalism--a sort of\npolite indifferentism, by which the heroes and heroines are made to\nwalk through life unconscious that there is a Being to whom the fall\nof a sparrow is not unknown, and who directs the destiny of nations\nas well as individuals. Fiction, if not the best, is certainly a very\neffective medium of communicating correct ideas and pure morality to\nthe young, and, while it should be read sparingly, cannot in this\nage be altogether dispensed with; and therefore it is that too much\ncare cannot be taken to see that it is not only free from grossness,\nbut that it is actively and primarily permeated by the spirit of\nreligion. Where this is not observed, as we regret to find in the\ncase of the English magazines, mere style of composition, felicity of\ndiction, and power of description count for nothing. They are simply\nevidences of the perversion of the gifts of God, which ought always\nand in all places to be used for the greater glory and honor of the\nGiver.\n\n\n\n\nMEMOIR OF FATHER JOHN DE BR\u00c9BEUF, S.J.\n\n\nWell acquainted as was Father Br\u00e9beuf, from long study and\nintelligent observation, with the character and customs of the\nHurons, he knew thoroughly how to propitiate their favor and regain\ntheir respect. His manly and courageous bearing during the prevalence\nof the fever, and his undaunted coolness and fearlessness of death\nin the midst of the late persecution, had won for him the admiration\nof all the nobler spirits in the tribe. In December, 1637, he gave a\ngrand banquet, to which were invited the chiefs and warriors of the\ncountry. He there addressed his assembled guests on the necessity of\nembracing the true faith. In January of the next year, the head chief\nof the Hurons, or Aondecho, as he was called, returned the compliment\nby giving a similar banquet, to which Father Br\u00e9beuf was invited;\nwhen he came to the banquet, the chief presented him to the assembly,\nnot as a guest, but as the host of the occasion, addressing them thus:\n\n\"Not I, but Echon, assembled you; the object of the deliberation I\nknow not; but be it what it may, it must, I am convinced, be of great\nmoment Let all then hearken attentively.\" The ever-ready and zealous\nmissionary then addressed the assembly on the same subject--the true\nfaith. He followed this up with another banquet in February, where\nhis address was followed by the evident but silent conviction of his\nhearers. At its close, the Aondecho arose, and exhorted his warriors\nand subjects to yield themselves to the counsels of the fathers. The\ndeep guttural expression of approval, ho! ho! ho! resounded on all\nsides, and the grateful missionaries made their joyful thanksgiving\nby chanting the hymn of the Holy Ghost. Then, with one acclaim, the\nchiefs and warriors adopted Father Br\u00e9beuf into their tribe, and\ncreated him one of the chiefs of the land--a dignity which invested\nhim with the power of summoning assemblies of the people in his own\ncabin.\n\nIn the spring of 1638, the fever began to disappear from the country.\nNow, too, the first Christian marriage was solemnized. The wife of\nJoseph Chiwattenwha had been baptized in March, and the two were\nunited together in holy matrimony by Father Br\u00e9beuf on St. Joseph's\nDay. Peter Tsiwendaentaha united with them in approaching the holy\ncommunion.\n\nThe public duties of the mission occupied the entire time of Father\nBr\u00e9beuf. The abandonment of Ihonitiria, in consequence of the recent\nscourge, caused Fathers le Mercier, Ragueneau, Garnier, Jogues,\nPijart, and Chatelain to remove that mission to Teananstaya\u00e9, the\nresidence of Louis de Sainte Foi. But they felt great fears about\nthat place, since its chief had shortly before instigated the\nwarriors to canvass the murder of the missionaries at Ossossan\u00e9.\nBut Father Br\u00e9beuf, with characteristic courage and zeal, went to\nthe village, and as a chief of the nation summoned a council of\nthe chiefs and warriors. The mission was formally announced on the\nspot, and we shall soon see the fathers offering up the Holy Mass at\nTeananstaya\u00e9. The year before, an Iroquois prisoner had received\nbaptism there from the hands of Father Br\u00e9beuf; and now nearly a\nhundred prisoners, condemned to death, were instructed and baptized\nby the missionaries on the eve of their execution. About this time\nan entire tribe, the Wenrohronons, abandoned by their allies, the\nNeutrals, came and threw themselves upon the hospitality of the\nHurons. They were wasting away from the effects of the recent\nplague, and the fathers at Ossossan\u00e9 rushed to their relief. They\nnursed their sick, instructed and baptized their dying, many of\nwhom expired with the waters of baptism fresh upon their brows.\nThe Hurons themselves were moved in favor of a religion capable of\nproducing such heroic examples; and on the 11th of November, St.\nMartin's Day, one entire family, and the heads of two others, were\nbaptized in health. On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, others\nwere converted and baptized, numbering in all thirty; so that at\nChristmas there was assembled, around that rude but holy altar in the\nwilderness, a sincere and fervent little congregation of Christians,\nadoring and offering their gifts to the infant Saviour.\n\nThe missionaries were now distributed in sets of four, consisting\nof three of the earlier and one of the recently arrived fathers, at\nthe various points through the country where missions were located.\nMany new missions were opened, and the flying visits to villages\nwhose missions had been broken up by the persecution were renewed.\nAmong the new missions now opened was the one already alluded to\nat Teananstaya\u00e9, or St. Joseph's, whose commencement on New Year's\nDay was cheered with fifty baptisms. The indefatigable Br\u00e9beuf was\nits founder, and with him were associated Father Jogues, whose\nIndian name was Ondesson, and Father Ragueneau. The most perfect\nsystem, both as regards the internal regulation of the affairs of\nthe mission-house and its inmates, and the external labors of the\nfathers, was introduced by Father Br\u00e9beuf, which enabled them to\nperform an almost incredible amount of missionary labor. Among the\nnatives, an aged chief named Ondehorrea, who was now a Christian, was\nof great assistance to them in their labors. He had once repulsed the\nfathers from his bed of illness, and, having called in the sorcerers,\nhe then rejected them, and recalled the fathers, who were at once\nat his side. He was soon sufficiently instructed to be baptized,\nand at the moment that the saving waters touched his forehead, he\narose suddenly in perfect health, to the amazement of all. He ever\nafterwards showed his sincerity as a Christian, and his gratitude\nto the fathers, by remaining their constant friend and faithful\nassistant.\n\nA curious affair now arose, which will convey to us some idea of\nthe trials with which those devoted missionaries had to contend. A\nwoman living in a little village near Ossossan\u00e9, as she was passing\nalong one night, saw the moon fall upon her head, and immediately\nchange into a beautiful female, holding a child in her arms. The\napparition declared herself to be the sovereign of that country and\nall the nations dwelling therein, and required that her sovereign\npower should be acknowledged by each nation's making a present or\noffering. The apparition designated the offering which each nation\nshould bring, not omitting the French, who were required to present\nblue blankets. The woman was taken ill, and demanded that the order\nof the divinity should be complied with for her recovery. A council\nwas accordingly held at Ossossan\u00e9, to which the missionaries were\ninvited. They attended, and were bold enough to oppose so wicked a\nhomage to a false deity. But all was in vain, for the whole country\nwas in a ferment of excitement. The most abominable orgies known to\nsavage life were celebrated in honor of this new goddess, and men\nwere hurrying in all directions to procure the required presents.\nSoon all the offerings were collected together, except the blue\nblankets of the French, and the missionaries were called upon to\ndo homage in the manner required of them. They resolutely refused\ncompliance with such a requisition, and, as may be well imagined,\nthey immediately became the objects of general indignation. Amid\nthreats and imprecations, and the glare of the uplifted tomahawk,\nthose courageous priests refused to let a blanket go from their\ncabin, except upon condition of the immediate cessation of all that\nwas going on, and the dismissal of the woman. These terms were\nrejected, the orgies were continued, and peril surrounded the fathers\nat every step; still they could not be induced to yield the points.\nFortunately for the missionaries, however, the apparition paid the\nwoman another visit, and released the French from the unholy tribute.\n\nIn September, 1639, new missionaries arrived. Unfortunately, an\nIndian in one of the canoes of their flotilla was infected with the\nsmall-pox, and that disease was thus introduced into the country.\nThe malady began to spread with fearful rapidity, and, as usual,\nthe origin of this evil, as of all others, was attributed to the\nmissionaries. Persecution was at once renewed, the cross was\nviolently dragged down from their houses, their cabins were invaded,\ntheir crucifixes torn from their persons, one of them was cruelly\nbeaten, and all were threatened with death. So great was their peril\nat one time that they calmly prepared themselves for martyrdom. They\nwere finally ordered peremptorily from the town. In the midst of\nthese persecutions, the heart of Father Br\u00e9beuf was consoled with\na vision: the Blessed Virgin, as the Mother of Sorrows, came to\nconsole her son and to confirm his courage; she appeared to him with\nher heart transfixed with swords. At once his resolution was taken;\nhe remained at his post of danger and of care, and continued his\nmissionary labors.\n\nIn consequence of these repeated persecutions, and the constant\nexposure of the fathers to the renewal of them by the malice of the\nmedicine-men, it was determined to erect a missionary residence apart\nfrom the villages and their vicious population, which might prove a\nsafe retreat for the fathers in time of trouble, and a convenient\nplace for instructing the catechumens and others well disposed to\nreceive the faith. During the years that Father Br\u00e9beuf was at\nOssossan\u00e9, displaying the most heroic zeal and disinterested charity,\nhe had met with the blackest ingratitude from the persons whom he\nhad fed by depriving himself of nourishment, and on one occasion he\nwas ignominiously beaten in public. The other fathers had suffered\nsimilar indignities and maltreatment. While glorying, like the\nsaints, in these sufferings for the sake of God and his church, he\nyet saw the necessity, for the sake of the mission, of a separate\nresidence. It was this necessity that originated St. Mary's on the\nriver Wye.\n\nIn the various missions whose establishments we have mentioned,\nthere had been baptized up to the summer of 1640 about one thousand\npersons: of these two hundred and sixty were infants, and though some\nof them were restored to health, by means apparently miraculous, most\nof them went in baptismal purity to swell the ranks of the church\ntriumphant in heaven. It was about this time that Father Br\u00e9beuf\nceased to be superior of the mission, and was succeeded by Father\nJerome Lalemant. The Jesuit, ever true to his institute, passed from\ncommand to obedience with the gladness and alacrity known only to the\nhumble soldiers of the cross. His career as superior, arduous and\nglorious, was also abundant in fruit to the church. He was indeed\nthe father of the Huron mission. Our eloquent Bancroft, in speaking\nof his and his companions' labors to introduce Christianity among\nthe aborigines of our continent, says that St. Joseph's chapel,\nwherein, \"in the gaze of thronging crowds, vespers and matins began\nto be chanted, and the sacred bread was consecrated by solemn Mass,\namazed the hereditary guardians of the council-fires of the Huron\ntribes. Beautiful testimony of the equality of the human race! the\nsacred wafer, emblem of the divinity in man, all that the church\noffered to the princes and nobles of the European world, was shared\nwith the humblest of the savage neophytes. The hunter, as he returned\nfrom his wild roamings, was taught to hope for eternal rest; the\nbraves, as they came from war, were warned of the wrath that kindles\nagainst sinners a never-dying fire, fiercer far than the fires of the\nMohawks; and the idlers of the Indian villages were told the exciting\ntale of the Saviour's death for their redemption.\"\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, already the founder of so many missions, now starts\nout with unabated ardor to open others. Accompanied by Father\nChaumonot, he advanced into the country of the Neutrals, naming the\nfirst town he entered \"All Saints.\" He pushed onward to the Niagara,\nto the residence of Tsoharissen, the chief whom all the Neuter towns\nobeyed. Hither the calumnies of some hostile Hurons had preceded\nhim, and represented Echon as the most terrible of sorcerers. The\ntwo missionaries were repulsed on all sides, and in their retreat\nfrom place to place were pursued by the arrows of their enemies.\nStill they persevered, and they succeeded in visiting eighteen towns,\npreached the Gospel in ten of them, and announced for the first time\nthe words of truth to at least three thousand souls. During these\nlabors, the keen eye of Br\u00e9beuf saw the importance to New France\nof an occupation of the Niagara by missions and trading posts; the\ntravels of the missionaries would be greatly shortened, the warlike\nIroquois restrained, the Hurons saved from a war of extermination,\nand the whole interior continent opened to European civilization\nand the faith of Christ. The plan of Father Br\u00e9beuf received little\nattention at court: a neglect which decided the fate of empires. We\ncannot determine precisely how far Father Br\u00e9beuf advanced into the\ncountry; only one town received the missionaries, which they called\nSt. Michael's. They, however, approached as far into the Iroquois\ncountry as was possible; still Bancroft says it is uncertain that he\never stood upon the territory of our republic.\n\nBut the hostile Hurons, not contented with the furious persecution\nthey had raised against the fathers in their own country, pursued\nthem into their new mission. Two Huron deputies soon arrived, and\nproclaimed a tempting reward for such as would deliver the country\nfrom those devoted men. While the council was engaged in debating\nthe question of his expulsion or death, Father Br\u00e9beuf was making\nhis examen of conscience in the cabin where he lodged, and suddenly\nhe beheld a fearful spectre: the figure held three darts, which were\nsuccessively hurled against him and his companion, but were averted\nby an unseen hand. Presaging evil from the vision, the two fathers\nmade their confessions to each other, and, thus prepared to die, they\nwent to rest. They afterward learned from their post, who returned\nto the cabin late at night, that the session of the council was long\nand stormy; three times the young braves had insisted on butchering\nthem on the spot, but were restrained by the sachems. But now,\nsuch was the state of the feeling aroused against them, that they\ncould not advance a step in safety. Turned from every shelter, and\nencountering death at every step, they wandered as outcasts over the\ncountry. Believing that their longer continuance was only calculated\nto increase the savage hatred of the people against them, and retard\nthe introduction of the faith, the fathers retreated to the Neuter\ntown which they had named All Saints. Here they wintered and spent\nthe time in instructing the people. In the spring, they advanced\nas far as Teotongniatou, or St. Williams, where a charitable woman\ngave them a shelter. While thus lingering, Father Br\u00e9beuf arranged\nhis Huron dictionary to the Neuter dialect, in which he had made\nconsiderable progress in four months. No sooner had the ameliorating\ninfluences of spring rendered travelling just possible, even to\nsuch travellers as those who had been accustomed for years to brave\nevery hardship, than Father Br\u00e9beuf and his companions started on\none of the most extraordinary journeys on record. Already spent with\nfatigues and privations, and pursued by danger, Father Br\u00e9beuf had\nto remain six days in the woods, sleeping on the snow, and without\na covering or shed over his head. The cold was so intense that the\ntrees themselves did split with a noise like the crack of a rifle. A\nspecial Providence protected him, for he exhibited no evidence that\nhe had been cold or exposed. Loaded with the provisions which he was\ncompelled to carry, as there were no relays on the way, he travelled\ntwo days across a lake of ice; and while thus struggling onward, his\nheart and eyes lifted up to heaven, he fell upon the ice. His portly\nframe gave such violence to his fall that he was unable to rise from\nthe ice. After a long time he was lifted up by one of his companions,\nand then found that his extremities were palsied, and he could not\nlift his feet from the ground. Besides, his collar-bone was broken.\nHe bore the last in silence, as it was not apparent. This fact was\nonly discovered two years later by the surgeon who attended him at\nQuebec. In vain his companions begged the privilege of drawing him\nthe remaining thirty-six miles of the journey in a sled, and at\nother times to assist him on the way; he declined all their generous\noffers, and labored onward, scarcely able to drag one foot after the\nother. It was thus he crossed the level country, and when he came\nto the mountains, he crept up on his hands and feet, and allowed\nhimself to slide down on the opposite side, retarding his too rapid\ndescent with his bruised and aching hands. Thus he completed his\njourney, which for love of suffering, patience, and humility compares\nwith some of the most heroic achievements recorded of the saints.\nHis companions went forward on other labors, but Father Br\u00e9beuf,\nwhile waiting for the next flotilla bound for Quebec, determined to\ntake what he styled his \"repose\"--a repose busily spent in making\nimportant arrangements for the missions, which his superior knowledge\nof everything relating to them enabled him alone to effect.\n\nOn the passage to Three Rivers, Father Br\u00e9beuf was accompanied by\nSondatsaa, an exemplary catechumen, and a party chiefly Christians or\ncatechumens. They arrived at Three Rivers after a narrow escape from\nthe murderous blades of the Mohawks, who were lying in wait for them.\nFinding it impossible for Fathers Ragueneau and Menard to reach their\nmissions in Huronia without a strong guard, Father Br\u00e9beuf proceeded\nwith Father Ragueneau and Sondatsaa to Sillery, in order to obtain\nsuccor for them. Here, moved by the entreaties of all, and especially\nof Sondatsaa himself, and having completed his instruction, Father\nBr\u00e9beuf consented to baptize that zealous convert. The ceremony was\nperformed at Sillery, on the 27th of June, with great pomp, and in\nthe presence of a concourse of Indians. The Chevalier de Montmagny\nwas godfather to the convert, who received the Christian name of\nCharles. He now returned, a Christian, to his own country, bearing in\nhis little flotilla the two fathers destined for the Huron mission.\nWhile Father Br\u00e9beuf was dwelling at Sillery, the next flotilla of\nHurons that came bore its usual freight of calumnies against Echon.\nThey now accused him of being colleagued with the Iroquois for the\ndestruction of the Hurons. This renewal of calumny checked, for a\ntime, his success; but he continued his preparations and arrangements\nfor the Neuter mission and his endeavors to convert his persecutors\nto the faith. He endeavored to persuade some of these Hurons to\nremain and winter with him, in order to receive instructions. Two of\nthem, who were left behind in the chase, were induced to remain, and\nFather Br\u00e9beuf, after the usual instruction and probation, had the\nconsolation of receiving these into the one fold of the One Shepherd.\nHe also succeeded in gaining a number of other Huron converts.\nFather Nimont, struck with the happy results of his labors, resolved\nto detain him another winter at Sillery. It was during this summer\nthat Father Jogues came to Sillery for supplies. Here these future\nmartyrs met in the prosecution of their noble labors; but soon the\nunconquerable Br\u00e9beuf saw his saintly companion set forth on his\nperilous mission over the country infested by the Iroquois, to carry\nrelief to the Huron missionaries. Himself was soon to follow.\n\nIn the spring of 1643, Father Br\u00e9beuf proceeded to Three Rivers,\nwhere he was cheered by tidings of Father Jogues. That holy\nmissionary, in returning from Sillery to bring succor to his\ncompanions in Huronia, had fallen a captive into the hands of the\nfierce Iroquois, and his fate was the object of intense anxiety.\nFather Br\u00e9beuf now learned that he was still living. The bold and\ngenerous Br\u00e9beuf arranged with a Huron, who was going out, to wait\nfor letters to Father Jogues at Fort Richelieu; the father, bearing\nthe letters, penetrated as far as the fort, but the courage of the\nHuron messenger failed; he had passed and was afraid to return, and\nthe Jesuit was compelled to retrace his steps without succeeding in\nconveying a word of comfort and encouragement to his captive brother.\nIn the spring of 1644, Father Bressani also, in endeavoring to\nreach Huronia, fell into the hands of the Iroquois. But the Huron\nmissionaries must be succored at every hazard, and Father Br\u00e9beuf was\nnow chosen for this perilous enterprise. Setting out in the summer,\nwith an escort of twenty soldiers given to him by the governor, he\nreached the Huron missions in safety on the 7th of September. The\nHuron mission had ever been the dearest object of Father Br\u00e9beuf's\nheart. Restored now to his chosen vineyard, he devoted himself to\nthe task of converting those tribes with a zeal and an energy worthy\nof his former glorious career. Year after year he continued his\nheroic labors; and, though our pen cannot follow him, step by step,\nthrough the trials, sacrifices, and exertions which his seraphic love\ninspired him to encounter, they were recorded in minutest detail by\nangelic pens in heaven. Success crowned the efforts of Father Br\u00e9beuf\nand his companions. Persecution ceased, and the whole country was\nbecoming conquered to the faith. In August, 1646, Father Gabriel\nLalemant, full of zeal and courage, was joined with Father Br\u00e9beuf in\nthe mission of St. Ignatius, which embraced the town of St. Louis and\nsome smaller villages. By this time, the horrid superstitions of the\ncountry had given way to the pure and holy rites of Catholic worship,\nand the cross, so lately despised, feared, and hated, had now become\nthe object of love and veneration. Father Bressani writes: \"The faith\nhad now made the conquest of the entire country.\" \"We might say they\nwere now ripe for heaven; that naught was needed but the reaping-hook\nof death to lay the harvest up in the safe garner-house of paradise.\"\n\"Religion seemed at last the peaceful mistress of the land.\"\n\nAllusion has several times been made to the visions from on high\nwhich were mercifully sent to warn Father Br\u00e9beuf of danger\nimpending, or to sustain him under the extraordinary afflictions,\npersecutions, and sufferings which at times seemed to exceed even\nhis remarkable powers of endurance. Some of these have already been\ndescribed. To the Protestant and non-Catholic mind, these miraculous\ncommunications to the saints are but the imaginings of morbid and\ndiseased intellects. Parkman, in his _Jesuits in North America_,\nrelates the following visions of Father Br\u00e9beuf only to classify them\nas psychological phenomena: \"It is,\" he says, \"scarcely necessary to\nadd that signs and voices from another world, visitations from hell\nand visions from heaven, were incidents of no rare occurrence in the\nlives of these ardent apostles. To Br\u00e9beuf, whose deep nature, like a\nfurnace white-hot, glowed with the still intensity of his enthusiasm,\nthey were especially frequent. Demons, in troops, appeared before\nhim, sometimes in the guise of men, sometimes as bears, wolves, or\nwild-cats. He called on God, and the apparitions vanished. Death,\nlike a skeleton, sometimes menaced him; and once, as he faced it with\nan unquailing eye, it fell powerless at his feet. A demon, in the\nform of a woman, assailed him with the temptation which beset St.\nBenedict among the rocks of Subiaco; but Br\u00e9beuf signed the cross,\nand the infernal siren melted into air. He saw the vision of a vast\nand gorgeous palace, and a miraculous voice assured him that such was\nto be the reward of those who dwelt in savage hovels for the cause of\nGod. Angels appeared to him, and more than once St. Joseph and the\nVirgin were visibly present before his sight. Once, when he was among\nthe Neutral nation, in the winter of 1640, he beheld the ominous\napparition of a great cross slowly approaching from the quarter\nwhere lay the country of the Iroquois. He told the vision to his\ncompanions.\n\n\"'What was it like? how large was it?' they eagerly demanded.\n\n\"'Large enough,' replied the priest, 'to crucify us all.'\n\n\"To explain such phenomena is the province of psychology and not of\nhistory. Their occurrence is no matter of surprise, and it would be\nsuperfluous to doubt that they were recounted in good faith and with\na full belief in their reality. In these enthusiasts we find striking\nexamples of one of the morbid forces of human nature; yet, in\ncandor, let us do honor to what was genuine in them--that principle\nof self-abnegation which is the life of true religion, and which is\nvital no less to the highest forms of heroism.\"\n\nBancroft, alluding to the same subject, and to the life, austerities,\nand self-sacrifice of Father Br\u00e9beuf, says: \"The missionaries\nthemselves possessed the weaknesses and the virtues of their order.\nFor fifteen years enduring the infinite labors and perils of the\nHuron mission, and exhibiting, as it was said, 'an absolute pattern\nof every religious virtue,' Jean de Br\u00e9beuf, respecting even the\nnod of his distant superiors, bowed his mind and his judgment to\nobedience. Besides the assiduous fatigues of his office, each day,\nand sometimes twice in the day, he applied to himself the lash;\nbeneath a bristling hair-shirt he wore an iron girdle, armed on\nall sides with projecting points; his fasts were frequent; almost\nalways his pious vigils continued deep into the night. In vain did\nAsmodeus assume for him the forms of earthly beauty; his eye rested\nbenignantly on visions of divine things. Once, imparadised in a\ntrance, he beheld the Mother of him whose cross he bore, surrounded\nby a crowd of virgins, in the beatitudes of heaven. Once, as he\nhimself has recorded, while engaged in penance, he saw Christ unfold\nhis arms to embrace him with the utmost love, promising oblivion of\nhis sins. Once, late at night, while praying in the silence, he had a\nvision of an infinite number of crosses, and, with mighty heart, he\nstrove, again and again, to grasp them all. Often he saw the shapes\nof foul fiends, now appearing as madmen, now as raging beasts; and\noften he beheld the image of death, a bloodless form, by the side of\nthe stake, struggling with bonds, and at last falling, as a harmless\nspectre, at his feet. Having vowed to seek out suffering for the\ngreater glory of God, he renewed that vow every day, at the moment\nof tasting the sacred wafer; and as his cupidity for martyrdom grew\ninto a passion, he exclaimed, 'What shall I render to thee, Jesus my\nLord, for all thy benefits? I will accept thy cup, and invoke thy\nname: and in sight of the Eternal Father and the Holy Spirit, of the\nmost holy Mother of Christ and St. Joseph, before angels, apostles,\nand martyrs, before St. Ignatius and Francis Xavier, he made a vow\nnever to decline an opportunity of martyrdom, and never to receive\nthe death-blow but with joy.\"\n\nIn the eye of Catholic faith, these visions and special revelations\nare but the fruits and blessings of a revealed and supernatural\nreligion. While they do not fall to the lot of us ordinary\nChristians, nor are they necessary helps in the little we accomplish\nfor God and his church, it is difficult to conceive how the saints\nand martyrs could have performed their sublime actions, or met their\ncruel and unjust deaths for God's sake with a smile--sacrifices\nso far above and even repugnant to our nature--without the aid of\nthese supernatural supports. The dedication of himself to martyrdom,\nand the heroic courage and joy with which he met his appalling\nfate, could only be achieved in the bosom of a church believing in\nmiracles, and presenting to her children the crown of martyrdom\nas the highest reward attainable by man. The visions of Father\nBr\u00e9beuf, like other miracles, depend wholly upon the evidence and\ncircumstances by which they are supported to entitle them to belief.\nIt was not his habit to disclose them; it was only when commanded by\nhis superiors that he committed them to writing. They thus rest upon\nhis solemn written words, and upon their perfect agreement in many\ninstances with contemporaneous facts transpiring beyond his sight and\nknowledge. To suppose him to have been deluded would be to contradict\nevery quality of mind and character so universally attributed to him\nby all Protestant historians.\n\nFather Br\u00e9beuf's aspirations for the crown of martyrdom were\nprophetic of his appointed and glorious end. But to him all\nhistorians have attributed the most practical views in relation\nto the Indian missions, and the coolest and wisest manner of\ndealing with them. There was no mere sentimentality in his nature.\nHe addressed his powerful energies and resources to the actual\nconversion of the Indians to Christianity, and we have seen how great\nwere the results he achieved. But now, alas! a dark cloud was seen\ngathering over the happy Christian republic of the Hurons. Already,\nduring the winter of 1649, the fierce Iroquois hordes, numbering\nupwards of one thousand, had secretly passed over a space of six\nhundred miles of Huron forests, and on the sixteenth of March they\nappeared suddenly before the town of St. Ignatius, while the chiefs\nand warriors were absent on the chase, and the old men, women, and\nchildren were buried in sleep. Strongly as the place was fortified,\nthis overwhelming force carried it by storm, and murdered its\nunsuspecting inhabitants. Three only escaped, half-naked, from the\nslaughter, and gave the alarm to the village of St. Louis, where\nthe fathers were then laboring. Here preparations were at once made\nto offer a gallant but unequal resistance. The women and children\nwere sent over forty miles of ice and snow to seek a shelter in\nthe cabins of the Petuns. The chiefs exhorted the fathers also\nto fly, since they could not go to the war. But Father Br\u00e9beuf,\nwith all the heroism of his great soul, answered that there was\nsomething more necessary than fire and steel in such a crisis; it\nwas to have recourse to God and the sacraments, which none could\nadminister but they--that he and his companion, the gentle Lalemant,\nwould abandon them only in death. The two fathers, says Father\nBressani, \"now hurried from place to place, exhorting all to prayer,\nadministering the sacraments of penance and baptism to the sick and\nthe catechumens, in a word, confirming all in our holy faith. The\nenemy in fact remained at the first fork only long enough to provide\nfor the safe keeping of the prisoners and the safety of those left\nas a garrison to guard them. After this they marched, or rather\nrushed, directly upon St. Louis. Here none were now left but the old\nand sick, the missionaries, and about a hundred braves to defend\nthe place. They held out for some time, and even repulsed the enemy\nat the first assault, with the loss of about thirty killed, but the\nnumber of the assailants being incomparably greater, they overcame\nall resistance, and, cutting down with their axes the palisades which\ndefended the besieged, were soon in possession of the town. Then\nputting all to fire and steel, they consumed in their very town, in\ntheir very cabins, all the old, sick, and infirm who had been unable\nto save themselves by flight.\"\n\nWhat contrasts the events of history present! While this relentless\nslaughter was at its height, and the worst passions of the fiercest\nof heathens were let loose, the scene of blood, fire, and death\nwas relieved by the presence of Christian heroes the most gentle,\nmerciful, and self-sacrificing. They stood in the breach to the last\nstroke of the enemy, encouraging the dying Christians to fortitude\nand hope, the wounded to patience, and the prisoners to courage\nand perseverance in the faith. The palisades of St. Louis finally\nwere cut away. The infuriate Iroquois swept in, and the whole\nsurviving garrison, warriors and priests, were all made prisoners\ntogether. The savages rejoiced especially at the capture of such a\nprisoner as Father Br\u00e9beuf, whom they immediately showed signs of\ntorturing, when a generous Oneida chief, more magnanimous than the\nrest, purchased him from his captors for a large price in wampum. It\nseemed as though he was about to be deprived of his coveted crown;\nbut no! the victors retracted their bargain, and Father Br\u00e9beuf was\nagain seized by his enemies. He and Father Lalemant were stripped,\nbound fast, and cruelly beaten, and their nails were torn out. But\nlest some change in the tide of war should deprive them of their\nprisoners, the latter were all sent, closely bound and tightly\nsecured, to St. Ignatius. Here, as they entered the town, they were\nbeaten and bruised by the rabble with sticks and clubs. The large\nand conspicuous frame of Father Br\u00e9beuf attracted a double share of\nblows on his already bruised and lacerated head and body. In the\nmidst of these cruelties, he was forgetful of himself, and anxious\nonly that his Christian Hurons, who were now his fellow-prisoners,\nshould be encouraged and consoled in their extreme danger. From the\nstake to which he had been tied, beholding them assembled for the\ntorture, he lost sight completely of his own greater calamities and\nsufferings, and thus he addressed them: \"My children, let us lift up\nour eyes to heaven in the worst of our torments; let us remember that\nGod beholdeth all we suffer, and will soon be our reward exceeding\ngreat. Let us die in this faith, and hope from his goodness the\naccomplishment of his promises. I pity you more than myself, but\nsupport manfully the little torment that yet remains. It will end\nwith our lives; the glory which follows will have no end.\" How great\nmust have been his consolation when he heard their heroic answer, a\nconvincing proof that Indians may be truly converted to Christianity,\nand possess the constancy to die in the faith. \"'Tis well, Echon,\"\nthey cried, \"our souls will be in heaven, while our bodies suffer\non earth; entreat God to show us mercy; we shall invoke him to our\nlatest breath.\" Enraged at his exhortations and unflinching zeal,\neven in death, some Hurons adopted by the Iroquois rushed upon him\nand burned his flesh with a fire which they kindled near him, they\ncut off his hands, and while Father Lalemant's flesh was cut and\npunctured with awls and other sharp instruments, and hot irons placed\nunder his armpits, they led him forth to torture and death before the\neyes of Father Br\u00e9beuf, in order to add to the agonies of the latter.\nAs Father Br\u00e9beuf continued to speak and to exhort his Christians,\nand to threaten the vengeance of heaven upon their persecutors,\nthey cut off his lower lip and nose, and thrust a red-hot iron down\nhis throat. Even after this, when he saw his superior, the gentle\nLalemant, led out to death, he called out to him with a broken voice\nin the words of St. Paul, \"We are made a spectacle to the world,\nto angels, and to men.\" Throwing himself at Father Br\u00e9beuf's feet,\nFather Lalemant was ruthlessly torn away, and in a few moments he\nwas enveloped in flames at the stake, and his gentle soul preceded\nthat of the intrepid Br\u00e9beuf to heaven. Turning next upon Father\nBr\u00e9beuf, they threw a collar of red-hot axes around his neck, which\nseethed and burned their way into his flesh; he stood, in the midst\nof such agonies, erect and motionless, apparently insensible to pain,\nintent only on vindicating the faith he had so long and faithfully\nannounced. His tormentors were awed by his constancy, which seemed to\nthem a proof that he was more than man. But they again taxed their\ningenuity for new tortures. An apostate Huron, who had been a convert\nof Father Br\u00e9beuf in the Huron mission, and had since been adopted by\nthe Iroquois, was the first to signalize the zeal of the renegade. He\nproposed to pour hot water on the head of Father Br\u00e9beuf, in return\nfor the quantities of cold water he had poured on the heads of others\nin baptism. The suggestion was received with fiendish joy, and soon\nthe kettle was swung. While the water was boiling, they added fresh\ncruelties to their victim's sufferings. They crushed his mouth and\njaw with huge stones, thrust heated iron and stones into his wounds,\nand with his own eyes he beheld them devour the slices of flesh which\nthey cut from his legs and arms. Let us not cut short the appalling\nstory; for surely, what a martyr bore a Christian may have courage\nto Three.'and bringing the scalding water from the caldron, they\npoured it over his bruised head and lacerated body amidst shouts and\nimprecations, and, as they did so, the high-priests of the occasion\nmockingly said to him: \"We baptize you that you may be happy in\nheaven; for nobody can be saved without a good baptism.\" By this time\nFather Br\u00e9beuf's mouth and tongue could no longer articulate, but\neven yet by his erect posture, the struggling and brave expression\nof his almost expiring eye, and even by his half-formed words, he\nencouraged the Christian captives to perseverance, and endeavored\nto deter the savages from torturing them by threats of heaven's\nvengeance. Again cutting slices from his body and devouring them\nbefore his eyes, they told him that his flesh was good. Some of the\nrenegade Hurons, more fiendish than even the Iroquois, again mocked\nhim by saying: \"You told us that the more one suffers on earth, the\nhappier he is in heaven. We wish to make you happy; we torment you,\nbecause we love you; and you ought to thank us for it.\" They next\nscalped him, and even after this they poured the boiling water over\nhis head, repeating the torture three times; they cut off his feet,\nand splitting open his stalworth and generous chest, they crowded\naround and drank with exultation the warm blood of the expiring hero.\nHis eye, firm and expressive to the last, was now dimmed in death,\nand at last a chief tore out his noble and brave heart, cut it into\na thousand pieces, and distributed it to the savage cannibals that\ncrowded around to receive a share of so exalted and unconquerable\na victim. Thus perished of earth, while crowned of heaven, the\nillustrious Br\u00e9beuf, \"the founder of the Huron mission--its truest\nhero, its greatest martyr.\"\n\nThe Iroquois, now glutted with carnage, and apprehensive of the\napproach of a superior force, retired to their own country. The\nfathers from St. Mary's came to St. Ignatius to bestow the last\nhonors upon the earthly remains of their martyred companions. It\nwas with difficulty they discovered their burned and mangled bodies\namong the mass of slain the victorious Iroquois had left. Their\nprecious remains were solemnly and sorrowfully carried to St. Mary's,\nand affectionately and religiously interred. A portion of Father\nBr\u00e9beuf's relics were subsequently carried to Quebec. A silver bust,\ncontaining the head of the martyr, was presented by his family to the\nCanadian mission, and is still reverently preserved by the convent of\nhospital nuns in that city. So great was his reputation for sanctity\nthat it became a familiar and pious practice in Canada to invoke his\nintercession. There are well-attested cases recorded of the wonderful\nintervention of heaven in favor of those who invoked his aid as a\nsaint in heaven.\n\nAmong the many virtues which adorned the life and character of\nFather Br\u00e9beuf may be particularly mentioned his ardent love of\nholy poverty and suffering, his purity of soul, his singleness of\npurpose, his profound obedience and humility, his zeal and courage,\nhis love of prayer and penitential austerities, and his generous\nlonging for the salvation of souls. \"The character of Br\u00e9beuf,\"\nsays Bancroft, \"was firm beyond every trial: his virtue had been\nnursed in the familiar sight of death. Disciplined by twenty years'\nservice in the wilderness work, he wept bitterly for the sufferings\nof his converts, but for himself he exulted in the prospect of\nmartyrdom.\" \"Thus,\" writes Mr. J. G. Shea in his _History of the\nCatholic Missions_, \"about four o'clock in the afternoon, after\nthree hours of frightful torture, expired John de Br\u00e9beuf, the real\nfounder of the [Huron] mission, a man such as the Catholic Church\nalone can produce; as a missionary, unequalled for his zeal, ability,\nuntiring exertion, and steady perseverance; as a servant of God,\none whose virtues the Rota would pronounce heroic; patient in toil,\nhardship, suffering, and privation; a man of prayer, of deep and\ntender piety, of inflamed love of God, in whom and for whom he did\nand suffered all; as a martyr, one of the most glorious in our annals\nfor the variety and atrocity of his torments.\" \"He came of a noble\nrace,\" says Parkman, \"the same, it is said, from which sprang the\nEnglish Earls of Arundel; but never had the mailed barons of his line\nconfronted a fate so appalling with so prodigious a constancy. To the\nlast he refused to flinch, and his death was the astonishment of his\nmurderers.\"\n\nPraise has become exhausted on such a subject. Would that we might\nhope for some national good from the sublime lesson he has taught us!\nThe red men are our brothers. The most precious blood of a God-man\nwas poured out for them as for us; and God's martyrs have joyfully\ngiven their noble lives for their salvation. Might not a Christian\nnation, in its power and goodness, yea, in its justice, save at\nleast the poor remnant of them from further slaughter; and say to\nthe ever-ready and zealous missionaries of the Catholic Church: \"Go,\nchristianize and save our brothers; we will not slay them more; there\nis land enough for us and for them; we confide them to your heroic\ncharity. We will protect you and them in the peace and good-will of\nthe Gospel. Go, save our brothers\"?\n\n\n\n\nTHE ANCIENT LAWS OF IRELAND.\n\n\nNext to written and well-authenticated historical annals, the\nclearest insight that can be afforded us of the civilization, polity,\nand social condition of the nations of antiquity is derived from\nthe study of ancient laws and customs, when their authenticity is\nguaranteed by existing contemporary authorities, and they bear in\nthemselves the intrinsic evidence of adaptability to time, place,\nand circumstance, so easily recognized by the antiquarian and the\nphilologist. Were it possible to conceive the total destruction\nof this republic with all its material monuments and historical\nliterature, nothing being left for posterity but our books of law,\nthe philosophical student a thousand years hence would be able to\nform a pretty correct and comprehensive idea of the state of society\nat present existing and of the nature of the institutions under\nwhich we have the good fortune to live. From the large number of\nstatutes regulating the intercourse of man and man, he would deduce\nthe fact that we were a commercial and ingenious people; from our\nlaws relating to real estate, he would necessarily argue that its\nownership was general and its transmission from one to another a\nmatter of everyday occurrence; and from the few restrictions imposed\non its possession or sale, that the facilities for its acquisition\nwere comparatively easy and unrestricted; while from the care that\nhas been taken by our national and local legislatures to guard the\nlife, liberty, and prosperity of the citizen, he would naturally\nconclude that our right to the enjoyment of these inalienable rights\nformed the corner-stone of the edifice of our government.\n\nIn the same manner, we of this century, looking back to a country so\nold as Ireland, one of the most antique of the family of European\nnations, by examining the laws framed in the early days of her\ndawning civilization, can picture to ourselves, even without the aid\nof history, the genius of her inhabitants, and form comparatively\naccurate opinions of how much or how little intelligence and natural\nsense of justice and the \"eternal fitness of things\" were exhibited\nby them in their efforts to regulate and organize society. Strange\nto say, we are partly indebted for this opportunity to the English\ngovernment, never very generous in its patronage of Irish interests,\nthough of course the principal credit is due to that noble band of\nIrish scholars, formerly headed by the late lamented O'Curry, Petrie,\nand O'Donovan, who by their antiquarian lore, profound knowledge of\ntheir vernacular, and untiring industry, have reconstructed from\nthe scattered and almost illegible manuscripts deposited in various\nlibraries the body of the laws of ancient Ireland, and have presented\nthem to the world in the language in which they were originally\nwritten, with the elaborate glosses of after-years, accompanied by\nan accurate English translation. This long-desired work bears the\nappropriate and principal title of _Senchus Mor_, or great law, and\ncontains all the laws that were enforced in Ireland from the fifth\nto the seventeenth centuries, if we except a small portion of\nthe island which was occupied by the Anglo-Norman colony from the\ninvasion till the reign of James I. That it was admirably adapted\nto the wants and dispositions of the people, we can judge by the\naffection and tenacity with which the natives so long clung to it, in\ndespite of all the efforts of the invaders to induce them by force or\nfraud to adopt that of the conquerors, and that it was more liberal\nand equitable than the harsh restrictions of the feudal system is\nproved from the alacrity of the Anglo-Norman lords who resided\nwithout the \"pale\" in conforming to it in preference to their own\nenactments.\n\nLike most of her other blessings, Ireland owed the possession of this\nexcellent and merciful code to the Catholic Church, for it was in the\neighth or ninth year of the ministration of her great apostle and at\nhis instance that it was framed as we at present find it, purified\nfrom all the grossness of paganism, and freed from the uncertainty\nand doubt which always attach to mere tradition. Up to his time,\nlaw in Ireland had been administered at the discretion of Brehons\nor judges, and, being preserved only in the poems of the bards and\n_ollamhs_ (professors), was deficient in those essential qualities\nof all human legislation, exactness and uniformity. That there were\nlearned and wise lawgivers in Ireland before the introduction of\nChristianity, we know from history and from the introduction to and\nthe text of the _Senchus_ itself, in which frequent mention is made\nof decisions and writings, but they were necessarily the exponents\nof that limited sense of justice which the human mind, unaided by\nreligion, is capable of comprehending. The propagation of the faith\nin Europe created a complete and permanent revolution in the laws of\neach country successively visited with the light of the gospel, and\nwhile the darkness of paganism vanished before it, the municipal laws\nwhich upheld idolatry were either totally abrogated or modified so as\nto conform, as much as possible, to the benign spirit of the church.\nThe immediate occasion of the revision of the Irish laws is stated to\nhave been the deliberate murder of one of St. Patrick's servants by a\nrelative of the reigning sovereign, but the real cause, no doubt, was\nthe desire of the saint to root out of the judicature of the people\nall traces of paganism as effectually as he had erased it from their\nhearts.\n\nAccordingly, by virtue of his high office, he summoned a convention\nof the learned men of the country, a few years after his arrival, and\nproceeded to execute his important reforms. His principal assistants,\nwe are informed, were Laeghaire, monarch of all Ireland, Corc, and\nDairi, two subordinate kings, whom we may suppose represented the\ntemporal authority of the nation, and without whose countenance\nand support it would have been difficult, if not impossible, to\nenforce the new code; Rossa, Dubhtach, and Fergus, those poets and\nprofessors whose duty it had been to preserve and perpetuate the\nlegal traditions of their race and the decisions of the Brehons;\nand two ecclesiastics, Saints Benen and Cairnech. The former of\nthese bishops, afterward known by the name of Benignus, was one\nof St. Patrick's earliest and favorite converts, and eventually\nhis successor in the primatial see of Armagh, and the latter, a\nBriton from Wales, was remarkable alike for his piety and extensive\nlearning. Thus sustained by the civil arm, and assisted by the advice\nand knowledge of men well versed in the common and canon law, the\nsaint, in addition to his other apostolic labors, succeeded in\nleaving to the people he loved so well a harmonious and Christian\ncode, the spirit of which, like that of all his teachings, sank\ndeep in the popular heart, and defied the efforts of time and the\nruthlessness of man to eradicate it.\n\nWhile this code remained the rule of guidance for the mass of the\npeople, it was sacredly preserved by the Brehons, who, though not\nempowered to alter it in any respect, added elaborate commentaries\nexplanatory of its general or obscure provisions; but when the\ncountry was divided into counties by the conquerors, and their system\ntook the place of the national one, the manuscripts of the ancient\nlaws were scattered through the country, in England and on the\nContinent, whither they were brought by the exiles.\n\nAs early as 1783, Edmund Burke, ever mindful of the fame of his\nnative country, suggested the propriety of collecting and publishing\nin English or Latin those remarkable remnants of former greatness\nand wisdom, but it was not till the year 1852 that the English\ngovernment, at the repeated solicitation of several distinguished\nand influential Irish gentlemen, consented to lend its aid to the\ngreat work, which from its very magnitude was beyond the ability of\nany individual or voluntary association to accomplish. In that year,\nat the special instance of Doctors Todd and Greaves, both eminent\nProtestant clergymen, a commission was issued appointing them and\nseveral other well-known scholars \"to direct, superintend, and carry\ninto effect the transcription and translation of the ancient laws\nof Ireland, and the preparation of the same for publication,\" etc.,\nwith power to employ proper persons to execute the work. The persons\nselected by the commissioners were Dr. O'Donovan and Professor\nO'Curry, both thoroughly qualified to perform so momentous and\nlaborious a labor, and whose conscientious discharge of the duties\nso assigned them ended only at their much lamented deaths. With the\npatience and zeal of true antiquarians, they set about transcribing\nthe various MSS. relating to the old laws, deciphering the\nhalf-obliterated characters of the earlier centuries, and rendering\nthe peculiar phraseology of the Gaelic into modern English. They were\nsucceeded by W. N. Hancock, LL.D., professor of jurisprudence in\nQueen's College, Belfast, and the Rev. Thaddeus O'Mahony, professor\nof Irish in the Dublin University, under whose auspices the two\nvolumes already in print were prepared for publication, having first\nreceived the sanction and approval of the commission. With such\nendorsement, we do not wonder that, speaking of the authenticity of\nthe _Senchus Mor_, O'Curry should have said in one of his admirable\nlectures on Irish history, \"I believe it will show that the recorded\naccount of this great revision of the body of the laws of Erin is as\nfully entitled to confidence as any other well-authenticated fact in\nancient history.\"\n\nThe principal materials used by the distinguished translators are\nthus described in the preface to the first volume:\n\n    \"I. A comparatively full copy among the manuscripts of\n    Trinity College, Dublin. H. 3, 17.\n\n    \"II. An extensive fragment of the first part, 432, of\n    the Harleian manuscripts in the British Museum.\n\n    \"III. A large fragment of the latter part among the\n    manuscripts of Trinity College, Dublin, H. 2, 15.\n\n    \"IV. A fragment among the manuscripts of Trinity\n    College, Dublin, H. 3, 18.\"\n\nOf the capacity of the gentlemen above-mentioned to faithfully\ntranscribe and translate these valuable relics of past legislation\nthere can be no doubt, nor of the genuineness and authenticity of the\nrecords themselves. They are not, of course, the originals as written\nin the fifth century, but are accurate copies, as far as they have\nbeen saved from destruction, made centuries ago by the Brehons and\n_ollamhs_, and handed down by them from father to son, for the Brehon\norder was hereditary, and from generation to generation, until the\nbeginning of the seventeenth century. Besides this, by their peculiar\nwording and reference to contemporaneous events and opinions, they\nbear the undoubted impress of great antiquity, and of having been\nintended for the government of a primitive people, who had little or\nno intercourse with the outside world. We have thus before us for the\nfirst time a complete body of written fundamental laws, collected\nand perfected over fourteen hundred years ago by a segregated and\npeculiar race, occupying a remote part of Europe, the only part,\nin fact, of the civilized portion of that continent that never\nechoed to the tread of a Roman soldier, or bowed before the edicts\nof an imperial C\u00e6sar. In reading over the laws of that unique and\nancient people, so unlike all we know of the Roman and Anglo-Saxon\njurisprudence, we find, not without some regret, we must confess,\nthat the halo of exalted virtue and unsullied purity with which the\npoetic fancy of subsequent historians and poets led them to surround\ntheir pagan ancestors, vanishes like the mists of a summer morning,\nbut we discover also that the epithets, barbarous, ignorant, and\nunlettered, so freely bestowed on them by the venal scribes of the\ndominant race, rest on no foundation whatever save on the malice\nor deficiency of knowledge of the Anglo-Norman authors. In truth,\nthe Irish of the pagan era seem to have had nearly all the virtues\nand failings of their posterity of to-day, the former being brought\nmore actively into play under the influence of Christianity, and the\nlatter repressed by the unlimited authority of the Catholic Church\nand the judicious regulations of the _Senchus_.\n\nWe find this more particularly the case in studying the laws\nregulating the domestic relations of the family, which, being the\nunit of which society is but an aggregate, is the most vital and\nimportant part of all human enactments. Ample provision is made for\nthe mutual protection of husband and wife, and the reciprocal rights\nand duties of parent and child are clearly and minutely defined;\nbut we observe with regret that much of this portion of the code\nis occupied with provisions for the distribution of property on\nthe disagreement or separation of married people, and for other\ndomestic infelicities of a more criminal nature. The prohibition of\nan offence in a statute does not necessarily imply the frequency of\nthe commission of the crime itself; but so much pains are taken to\npoint out the rights and disabilities of persons cohabiting without\nthe sanction of lawful wedlock that the conviction is forced upon us\nthat they were not by any means unnecessary. As an offset to this,\nhowever, we find that a lawful wife was treated with the greatest\nindulgence, being in many ways the equal of her husband, and in this\nrespect the _Senchus_ presents a marked contrast to all the other\nEuropean legislation of that time, by which woman was held little\nbetter than a slave, and generally at the mercy of her father\nor husband, even in some instances to the taking of her life. We\nfeel certain that our strong-minded sisterhood who are so manfully\nbattling for social and political equality will be gratified to learn\nthat a portion of their principles, at least, were fully recognized\nfourteen centuries ago, and for their edification we quote the\nfollowing passage from the expressed wisdom of our ancestors:\n\n    \"In the connection of equal property, if with equal\n    land and cattle and household stuff, and if their\n    marriage state be equally free and lawful, the wife\n    in this case is called the wife of equal rank. The\n    contract made by either party is not a lawful contract\n    without the consent of the other, except in cases of\n    contracts tending equally to the welfare of both; such\n    as the alliance of co-tillage with a lawful tribe when\n    they (the couple) have not the means themselves of\n    doing the work of ploughing; the taking of land; the\n    collection of food; the gathering for the festivals;\n    the buying of breeding-cattle; the collecting of\n    house-furniture; the collecting of litters of pigs; the\n    buying of stacks and other necessaries.... Each of the\n    two parties has the power to give refection and feast\n    according to their respective dignity.\"\n\nIn case of separation, adequate protection was thrown around the\nwife's rights of property. If her property were equal to that of\nher husband at the time of marriage, she took an equal moiety of\nthe collective lands, goods, and chattels, and, in case of dairy\nproduce and the proceeds of the loom, two-thirds. If the property\nhad originally belonged wholly to the husband, the wife was entitled\nto one-third on her separation, and if it had been her own before\nmarriage, to two-thirds. Whether these provisions extended to their\nmutual claims after death, we are not informed by the glossators,\nbut it is not improbable that they were, thus creating estates not\nunlike the more modern _dower_ and _courtesy_ of the English law.\nThis equality of married persons was still further extended in the\nright of each to the disposal or guardianship of their offspring,\nand in their authority to demand in return the assistance of their\nchildren in poverty or decrepitude.\n\nThe relations between parent and child were the subjects of careful\nand minute legislation. The father was obliged to see that his\ndaughter was educated in a manner becoming her rank, and, when at\na marriageable age, to procure her a husband of suitable means\nand family. In return, she was to give him one-third of her first\nmarriage gift (_coibhche_), and a certain proportion of other\ngifts received after her nuptials. Should the father be dead, his\nson, succeeding him as heir, was also obliged to assume the same\nresponsibility, and received from his sister a proper equivalent at\nher marriage. The mother's duty to her son was similar to that of\nthe father to his daughter, he being required to assist her in her\npoverty or old age, and in conjunction with the daughter to provide,\nif necessary, for both his parents, an obligation imposed even on\ngrandchildren. That the father should especially have care of the\ndaughter and the mother of the son is something very contrary to the\nmodern ideas of domestic discipline, but it doubtless, in a primitive\nstate of society, had the advantage of equalizing the stronger and\nweaker elements of the family, giving to the woman the benefit of\nmanly protection, and to the rougher masculine nature a gentler and\nmore humanizing influence.\n\nFosterage, though not unknown in other countries, was so general\nin ancient and medi\u00e6val Ireland as to give it a character almost\npeculiar to that island.\n\nIt is known to have been of very ancient origin, and to have\noriginated in the natural relations that existed between the sept\nor tribe and its chief, which was one of mutual rights and duties;\nfor, observes the _Senchus_, \"every head defends its members, if it\nbe a goodly head, of good deeds, of good morals, exempt, affluent,\ncapable. The body of every head is his tribe, for there is no body\nwithout a head. The head of every tribe, according to the people,\nshould be the man of the tribe who is most experienced, the most\nnoble, the most wealthy, the wisest, the most learned, the most\ntruly popular, the most powerful to oppose, the most steadfast to\nsue for profits and be sued for losses.\" It will thus be easily\nunderstood, particularly by the citizens of a republic, that the\nauthority of a chief, thus qualified, depended to a great extent\non the affection and good-will of his constituents; and, in order\nto create more close relations between himself and them, it was\ncustomary for him to send his children at an early age to be nursed\nand trained by some family of his sept. The children thus placed\nunder tutelage were regarded with equal, if not greater, affection\nby the foster-parents than their own. The existence of this custom\nmay still be traced in Ireland, and well-authenticated instances\nof the most self-sacrificing devotion on the part of the natural\nchild of the foster-parent to his foster-brother or sister form the\ntheme of many of our best Irish stories and historical romances. The\nfoster-parent for the time being stood in the place of the actual\nparent, and was obliged to feed, clothe, and educate the foster-child\nfor a certain number of years, males till they had attained the age\nof seventeen, and females fourteen years, and the children were\nexpected in return to compensate, succor, and in some cases support\ntheir foster-parents, as if they were their actual progenitors.\n\nThe statutes regulating fosterage occupy a large portion of the\n_Senchus_, so far as published, and affords us a fuller and more\naccurate knowledge of the social habits and condition of the Gaelic\npeople in and before the fifth century than any other portion of\nthe collection, or even all the histories of Ireland extant which\nprofess to treat of that remote epoch. Fosterage, we are told, was\nof two sorts, for affection and compensation. When the latter, the\nfosterage price was regulated according to the rank of the chief, and\nvaried from three cows in the case of the son of an _Og-Aire_, or\nlowest chief, to thirty cows for the son of a king. The services to\nbe rendered for their payments, being food, raiment, and education,\nwere proportioned to the amount, and seem to have been the subject\nof much elaborate legislation, not easily reconcilable to our modern\nnotions. For instance, in the matter of food, Dr. O'Donovan renders a\nvery ancient commentary on the first clause of the law of fosterage\nas follows:\n\n    \"What are their victuals? They are all fed on\n    stirabout; but the materials of which it is made,\n    and the flavoring with it, vary according to the\n    rank of the parents of the children. The children of\n    the inferior grades are fed to bare sufficiency on\n    stirabout made of oatmeal on buttermilk or water, and\n    it is taken with stale (salt) butter. The sons of the\n    chieftain grades are fed to satiety on stirabout made\n    of barley-meal upon new milk, taken with fresh butter.\n    The sons of kings are fed on stirabout made of wheaten\n    meal upon new milk, taken with honey.\"\n\nAccording to one authority, every foster-child should be provided\nwith two suits of clothing, in color and quality according to the\nrank of his father--blay, yellow, black, and white colored clothes\nfor the inferior grades, red, green, and brown for the sons of\nchieftains, and purple and blue for princes. According to another,\nthe distinction of rank was indicated in the following manner:\n\n    \"Satin and scarlet are for the son of the king of Erin,\n    and silver on his scabbards, and brass rings on his\n    hurling-sticks; and tin upon the scabbards of the sons\n    of chieftains of the lower rank, and brass rings upon\n    their hurling sticks.... And brooches of gold having\n    crystal inserted in them with the sons of the king of\n    Erin and of the king of a province, and brooches of\n    silver with the sons of the king of a territory.\"\n\nThe course of instruction to be pursued by the foster-children was\nlikewise regulated by the degree of the dignity of their parents.\nThe sons of the \"lower classes\" were to be employed in \"the herding\nof lambs, and calves, and kids, and pigs, and kiln-drying and\ncombing, and wood-cutting,\" while the girls were expected to learn\nthe use of the _quern_, or hand-mill for grinding grain, the useful\nhousehold art of making bread, and winnowing corn, etc.; the young\nchieftains were to be taught horsemanship, shooting, swimming,\nand chess-playing, and their sisters, sewing, cutting-out, and\nembroidery. We have thus placed before us in all its simplicity,\nand upon the best authority, the modes of living prescribed for the\nyouth of both sexes in Ireland at the time of its conversion to\nChristianity--a record valuable to the historian and the antiquarian,\ndissipating alike the poetic imaginings of too partial Celtic\nchroniclers and the voluntary misrepresentations of the Anglo-Norman\nwriters. It may be objected that such limited views of education\nargued little for the civilization of the race who entertained them;\nbut when we recall the condition of Western Europe at the time the\n_Senchus_ was composed, we may well be surprised at the sound sense\nand practical wisdom so often found in its pages. Nor must it be\nsupposed that the labors of the child ended with the performance of\nthe tasks thus assigned him. There existed another and correlative\nspecies of tutelage called literary fosterage, which is thus defined\nin the \"law of social connections\":\n\n    \"The social connection that is considered between the\n    foster-pupil and the literary foster-father is, that\n    the latter is to instruct him without reserve, and\n    to prepare him for his degree, and to chastise him\n    without severity, and to feed and clothe him while he\n    is learning his profession, unless he obtains it from\n    another person, and from the school of Fenius Forsaidh\n    onward this custom prevails; and the foster-pupil is to\n    assist his tutor in poverty and to assist him in his\n    old age, and the honor price of the degree for which he\n    prepares him and all the gains of his art while he is\n    learning it, and the first earnings of his art after\n    leaving the house of his tutor, are to be given to the\n    tutor.\"\n\nIn addition to this excellent and equitable plan of intellectual\nculture, we also find in the law of tenures that the sons of tenants\nholding church lands were entitled to receive instruction from the\nholders of the benefices, which, we may presume, were not necessarily\naltogether of a spiritual nature. We thus find that fosterage\nconstituted one of the most important elements of society, and,\nthough much condemned by subsequent and partial writers, contained\nwithin itself most of the duties and responsibilities which we now\ndivide among corporations and individuals under different names.\nThe importance which ancient Irish lawgivers seemed to attach to\nthis crude but not altogether unsuccessful attempt to define the\nrelations of parent and child, employer and employed, master and\nscholar--questions still raised in this enlightened age--is shown\nin the number of the statutory enactments originally made, and the\nelaborate and critical glosses afterward appended to them, the whole\nnot unworthy the notice of the modern legislator.\n\nThe land tenure has always been a subject of doubt and difficulty\nin Ireland, and the laws of the _Senchus_ appear to us as little\nsatisfactory and as hard to be understood as that recently passed in\nthe British Parliament under the supervision of Mr. Gladstone. It\nseems to us, from the careful examination of the different statutes\nrelating to it, that each chief held the whole of the land of his\ntribe in his own name, not, however, in his own right altogether,\nbut partly as trustee of his tribe, and in this respect the Irish\nsystem differs materially from the feudal, which for centuries\nprevailed in all parts of Europe, except in the country of which\nwe are writing. The tenants were divided into two classes, those\nwho held by _saerrath_ or _daerrath_, terms for which we can find\nno equivalents in the English language. The first class received\nfrom their chief, upon taking the land, and without security,\nsufficient cattle to stock the same, for which they were obliged\nto return an annual rental in kind, or, at the chief's option, its\nvalue in personal service and labor, such as working on his _dun_\nor _rath_, and following him in his wars. This species of tenure,\nexcept in the case of those who held immediately from the king,\ncould at pleasure be turned into holding by _daerrath_, by which the\ntenant gave security for the stock received, and was exempt from\npersonal and military service. The rents and their manner and time\nof payment varied according to circumstances, but always subject to\nthe above restrictions, and were, of course, the exclusive property\nof the landlord or chief for the time being. The restrictions on\nthe alienation of land, or rather of the good-will of it--for in\nfact the fee did not rest in the individual, but in the tribe as\nrepresented by its chief--were many and onerous, including forfeiture\nand other penalties, and were generally directed to the exclusion\nof members of neighboring or hostile tribes. The agrarian portion\nof the ancient code, in fact, while far superior in point of\nliberality to that of many of the then existing nations, resembled\nmore the laws that govern our Indian reservations than those of any\nenlightened country of the present day. It was full of fatal and\nmischievous errors, and to its baleful operation have been ascribed\nmany of the evils which centuries before and after the Anglo-Norman\ninvasion afflicted Ireland. By jealously confining the occupancy of\na certain district to one particular tribe or family, it engendered\na feeling of faction, and what might be called parish patriotism,\nwhich unfortunately have outlived the cause that gave them birth,\nand, by persisting in considering the tribal land as indivisible, it\ndestroyed that high sense of independence and spirit of enterprise\nwhich can only be felt and maintained by him who owns his own farm\nand calls no fellow-man master.\n\nThe laws relating to distress, or the form of collecting claims,\nsuch as debts, tributes, forfeitures, etc., are the least attractive\nand instructive portion of the work, and for dense obscurity and\nincomprehensibleness can only be compared to our own Code of\nprocedure. We gather, however, from them that all civil claims and\ndamages for injuries were collectable by a short process of the\nseizure of the goods and chattels of the defendant, and the retention\nof the same on the premises of the plaintiff, or, as in the case\nof cattle, in the public pound. After the expiration of a certain\nnumber of days, if the defendant did not replevin his property\nor disprove his opponent's claim, the goods became the absolute\nproperty of the creditor. With a humanity, however, which many\nsuppose to be the growth of our century, the plaintiff should exhaust\nfirst the property upon the possession of which the subsistence of\nthe defendant's family did not immediately depend, and even some\narticles of primary necessity were altogether exempt from seizure.\nImprisonment for debt, however, partially existed, and, when the\ndebtor had no goods and did not belong to the class of freemen,\nhe was arrested and compelled to labor for the creditor until the\ndemands of the latter were fully satisfied.\n\nSuch, in brief, is a _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of the laws contained in the two\nvolumes of the _Senchus Mor_ already published, and which we hope\nsoon to hear of occupying a position on the shelves of every library\nof reference in the country. Much yet remains of the ancient _Code of\nSt. Patrick_[148] to be given to the world before the entire work is\ncompleted, and we are assured that this will be done at an early day,\nand in as scholarly a manner as the portion before us. We shall look\neagerly for its appearance, not for its practical value as a legal\nstudy, but as a picture of a remote but interesting era and race, and\nas an additional evidence of how much the world owes to the Catholic\nChurch even in the civil and political affairs of life. The science\nof true government has been a plant of slow but sure growth, and,\nwhile we enjoy so many of its fruits in our favored land, we must not\nforget that the seeds were planted with so much suffering and labor\nby the apostolic men who have gone to their rest centuries ago.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[148] The _Senchus Mor_ was sometimes known as _Cain Patraic_, or\n_Patrick's Law_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF AN ALGERINE LOCKET.\n\n\nI.\n\nIn the sunshine of a May morning stood an old gray house, with a\nporch draped in woodbine and sweetbrier. A mass of wisteria climbed\nto the very chimneys, and on the lawn a bed of red and golden tulips\nswayed with the soft breeze. A wren was building in an acacia and\nsinging, while a young girl watched his work and sang also, trying\nwith her fresh soprano voice to catch his melody.\n\nThe old house was the homestead of Holly Farm, and the young girl was\nSybil Vaughan, the heroine of a very short story.\n\n\"Sybil looks charming in white,\" thought Miss Mildred, sitting at the\nwindow of the green parlor with her mending-basket beside her; \"and\nthe locket is quite becoming.\"\n\nIt was before the day when every one began to wear medallions, and\nthe one that hung by a quaint twisted chain from Sybil's neck was a\nlocket of rich enamel, brought to her from Algeria by a midshipman\ncousin, and quite unlike our gewgaw from the Palais Royal.\n\nAs we have said, Miss Mildred sat at the window of the green parlor,\nraising her eyes now and then from her work to watch her pretty\nniece, her adopted daughter. During the seventy years of her life,\nshe had sat at that same window almost every morning since she was\nold enough to work a sampler, or to read a paper in the _Spectator_\nor a chapter of _Evelina_ to her mother and younger sisters.\n\nIn her girlhood, Holly Farm had been a lonely place, remote from town\nand village. The trees, now rising luxuriantly around the house,\nwere then, like her, in their youth, and revealed whatever might be\npassing in the lane below the lawn. At a period of life when young\npeople gaze abroad in vague expectation of some wonderful arrival\nor event that shall alter the current of existence, Mildred Vaughan\nhad turned longing eyes toward this lawn hour after hour, and she\nhad thought her morning's watch well rewarded if the old doctor had\ntrundled by in his high-topped chaise and nodded to her in friendly\ngreeting.\n\nWith a capacity for painting that in these days of potichomania,\ndecalcomania, and the rest would have passed for originality, if not\ngenius, she had received one quarter's lessons in oil-painting, and\nby dint of studying a few beautiful family portraits had acquired a\nkeenness of perception that made her hunger for the world of art.\nWith an earnest love for books, she had been obliged to devote her\ntime to the care of her younger brothers and sisters. And so, out of\nher monotonous life, she had brought into old age an exaggerated idea\nof the value of learning and luxury, with a belief in possibilities\nand a regret for what might have been generally supposed to belong\nexclusively to youth.\n\nThis sounds more melancholy than it really was. Miss Mildred had\nkept her ideal of happiness fresh and vivid, and that is in itself a\nsource of keen enjoyment. And, being a devout and trusting soul, she\nhad framed for herself a prayer out of the thwarted aspiration of her\nheart and mind: \"I thank thee, Lord, that there are joys so beautiful\non earth, and I thank thee that they are not for me. Thy will is\ndearer to me than the realization of any dream.\"\n\nEvery one loved to come to Miss Mildred for sympathy. She believed\nin the reality and the durability of their joy, in the depth and in\nthe cause of their grief. She did not say to the mother who had lost\nher little baby, \"He is saved from sorrow and sin.\" She did not say\nto the young widow, \"You have had the best part of life; later come\ntrial and vexation of spirit.\" She knew that in bereavement the balm\noften enters with the sting; that the stainless beauty of the thing\nwe lose is our only earthly consolation for its loss.\n\nA great change had come to Holly Farm since the time when the\ndoctor's visit was an important event. The sweep of meadow-land west\nof the house now served as camping-ground for the --th Regiment,\nMassachusetts Volunteers, in which young Henry Vaughan held a second\nlieutenancy. Drumming and fifing, the arrival of carriages full of\ngayly dressed people to visit the camp, the music of the regimental\nband on moonlight evenings, such was the course of daily life on\ngreen slopes which cattle and sheep had once possessed without\ndispute, nibbling the grass and drinking from the river in all\ncontentment.\n\nIndeed, Miss Mildred's standard of events had so naturally changed in\nthat course of seventy years that, when the little white gate swung\nopen, and a young man in uniform walked across the lawn, she merely\nsaid to herself: \"That must be Captain Adair coming to see Harry. He\nwalks better than any man I ever saw. The maid's hanging out clothes;\nI do hope Sybil will have sense enough to come and speak to him\ninstead of letting him knock.\"\n\nSybil had the amount of sense requisite for the emergency. She led\nthe way into the green parlor, and, leaving Captain Adair with her\naunt, went to announce the arrival to her brother, who was trying on\nhis new uniform, and blushed to be caught admiring the epaulettes\nbefore a mirror in the library. There was no need of apology. Sybil\nwas in full sympathy with the occasion, and returned to the parlor\nfeeling as proud of her brother's military outfit as he of the beauty\nof the sister leaning on his arm.\n\nIt was a pleasant meeting. Adair's frank and sympathetic manner had\nwon its way through Miss Mildred's reserve; and his familiarity with\nthe world and its ways secured him an easy victory over his young\nlieutenant. Sybil was less impressionable than the other two. Her\nmanners were gentle and courteous to all, but it was not easy to\npenetrate her likes and dislikes, or to find out their cause. Just a\ntrifle uninteresting, she was, poor Sybil, like many nicely poised\nyoung persons before they have enjoyed or suffered keenly. The very\nfinish of her beauty, of her lovely manners, of her pleasant voice\nand accent, left nothing to be desired--no suggestion of anything\nbeyond. But a soul so brave, so pure and honest as hers deserved to\nbe developed, and the occasion for development came.\n\n\nII.\n\nADAIR'S LETTERS TO HENRY ALLEYNE.\n\n                                    CAMP EVERETT, May, 1861.\n\nI had an adventure yesterday that should have fallen to your lot, my\ndear Alleyne, not to that of a prosaic dog like me.\n\nHearing that my second lieutenant lived near the camp, and that he\ncould not enter upon his duties for a day or two, I took it into my\nhead to go and see what stuff he was made of, for, Alleyne, I am\nawfully interested in Company B, and in every creature connected with\nit. How could I ever have lived in that bore of a city, or slept\nwithin four walls, or used a silver fork! \"Going off at half-cock, as\nusual,\" you say? Well, perhaps that is better than never going off at\nall. But to return to my story.\n\nI went through a shady lane, leading from the camp to Vaughan's\nhouse. (Vaughan is the second lieutenant and owner of the\ncamping-ground.) As I drew near the gate, I heard a woman's voice\nsinging. A little further on came a gap in the trees, and I took a\nreconnoissance--such another I can never hope for during my military\ncareer. A low-spreading stone house, covered with vines, stood among\nfine old trees. Great bunches of blue blossoms draped the walls, and\non the velvety lawn were clusters of brilliant flowers. Beneath a\ntree, honor bright, Alleyne, if ever angels do appear in white gowns\nwith broad rose-colored sashes, it was an angel that stood beneath\nthat tree, answering a bird with a voice as fresh, an expression\nas natural as his own. I stood there looking and listening--it was\nreally very fascinating--until I suddenly remembered my errand. Then\nI pushed open the gate, and, walking across to the porch, lifted the\nbright brass knocker. But the rival of the wren, without letting me\nwait the coming of some creature of baser clay, came from among the\ntrees, and asked if I wished to see Mr. Vaughan.\n\nNow, I had wished to see Mr. Vaughan, and as it would not do to\nsay on so short an acquaintance that my wishes were too completely\nsatisfied by the vision before me to leave any want unfulfilled, I\nstoutly declared that I did wish to see Mr. Vaughan, and that I was\nCaptain Adair.\n\nAnd then she showed your too susceptible friend into a summer parlor,\nwhere the general effect was white and sea-green, and where there\nwere hanging-baskets of flowers surrounded by vines and soft moss,\nand where an elderly lady in a lavender dress, with white lawn apron\nand kerchief, sat sewing, and where portraits of rosy-fingered dames\nand periwigged gentlemen gazed on us from the walls and read our\ndestinies--mine must have been too plainly legible on my ingenuous\ncountenance. And the old lady received me very courteously, and\nthe maiden went to find her brother, and, when the brother came,\nhe looked like his sister, and surely never before was lieutenant\ngreeted by his superior officer with such ineffable tenderness. And\nwe dined, so far as I could judge, off dishes of topaz and crystal,\nheaped high with ambrosia, and soon after dinner I returned to Camp\nEverett, and met the colonel going his rounds.\n\n\"You come from young Vaughan's, I see,\" he said. \"What impression did\nhe make upon you?\"\n\n\"Charming, highly delightful, very promising,\" I replied, with a\nhappy combination of diffidence and child-like openness of manner.\n\nHe gave me a look out of his shrewd old eyes. \"So attractive a person\nwill be an acquisition to the regiment,\" he remarked, and let me pass\non to my tent.\n\nI am half-asleep. Good-night!\n\n                                               ROBERT ADAIR.\n\n\n                                   CAMP EVERETT, June, 1861.\n\nThings go on grandly at the camp, and between ourselves the colonel\nhas just said that Company B is better disciplined than any other in\nthe regiment--a compliment I'm very proud of, coming, as it does,\nfrom an old West Point martinet.\n\nAnd now for the second part of my idyl. Every afternoon, Vaughan\nand I go up to his place and smoke awhile in the orchard. Then, by\naccident--it is wonderful, the unerring accuracy of accident at\ntimes--we appear at the east window of the green parlor, and there\nare Miss Vaughan and her niece, sewing or drawing, and sometimes\nMiss Sybil sings, to the accompaniment of a charming Pleyel piano,\ncanzonets of Haydn in a style as fine, as pure, as exquisite as the\ncomposition. She--Sybil, I mean--has never danced a German or heard\n_Faust_! Duly shielded by the presence of aunt or brother, she is\nsometimes taken to hear the _Nozze di Figaro_ or to see _Hamlet_,\nor to some other unexceptionable afternoon entertainment. I smile\nsometimes to see her absolute ignorance of life, and wonder that,\nin a village not twenty miles distant from a city where the world\nruns riot, this being has sprung into womanhood, unconscious of the\nexistence of anything less spotless than herself.\n\nThis guarded life has given to her manners a certain high breeding\nthat would keep one at a distance but for her kind, frank nature. No\none can venture to fancy himself distinguished above others.\n\nDo you know what this makes me feel? That hitherto, and I am nearly\ntwenty-five years old, I have looked at women with a coxcomb's eyes.\nAny day, any hour, I feel ready to throw myself on her mercy, but an\ninstinct tells me that her love must be won by something better than\nprofessions. When I have suffered in the cause she loves well enough\nto give her only brother to defend it, then I will speak.\n\n_Noblesse oblige_--I see that in a certain lofty sense this is the\nmotto of her life, and it shall be mine. Do you remember what our\ndear old philosopher used to say in the scientific school? \"The\nbetter you begin, the harder is the work before you.\" And when we\nasked what he meant, he only said, \"Noblesse oblige.\" It is true,\nwhether the _noblesse_ acts upon us in the form of intellectual\nstrength or of spiritual gifts, or in the old material sense of\ninherited rank.\n\nExcept the hour spent at Vaughan's each day, and an occasional\nvisit to my mother in town, I am wrapped up in the affairs of\nCompany B. The life here is to me most fascinating. You would laugh\nto see me with a set of wooden soldiers before me on the little\ntable in my tent, studying man\u0153uvres, extricating my company from\nthe most astounding and unheard-of perplexities. The progress of\nmy lieutenants; the health, morals, and immorals of the company;\nthe incapacity of our bugler to draw the faintest sound from his\ninstrument--in short, everything that indicates growth or decay of\ndiscipline in Company B, seems to me a matter of national importance.\n\nOne word more about Miss Sybil Vaughan. My mother has seen her, and\nsympathizes with me. When she came to visit the camp, I took her\nto Vaughan's house to rest. As we left Holly Farm, she gave a sigh\nof relief, and said: \"Robert, I feel as though I had stepped back\nhalf a century. When I was a girl, young ladies were like Miss Sybil\nVaughan.\"\n\nOne more last word. In your letter you said, with an air of superior\nwisdom, plainly expressed in the tails of your letters: \"You are in\nlove.\"\n\nOf course I am, and I should be a fool if I were not.\n\n                Your friend,\n                                               ROBERT ADAIR.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt was June still. The laburnum path was all aglow with blossoms, and\nthe grape-walk, just beyond, made a shadowy retreat toward evening.\nSybil was sitting there with her work lying on her lap. She had not\nsewed three stitches. Why had not Harry come as usual that afternoon\nto the east window to get his cup of black coffee? Why--O dear! there\nare so many whys in the case, and never an answer anywhere. Why was\nthere an indefinite air of bustle in the camp as she looked down\non it from her bower? Why was there an undefined sense of stir in\neverything?\n\nShe watched the sun drop nearer and nearer to the distant hills. The\nair was full of saffron light, and heavy with the perfume of flowers.\nNature was so new and fresh in her June loveliness; and life was full\nof a promise of coming beauty, as it had never been before to Sybil\nin any other of her nineteen Junes. That sense of stir was in her own\nsoul no less than in external nature.\n\nThere came the click of an iron heel upon the gravelled path. Sybil\nhalf-rose from the bench, and then sank back again. Adair stood\nbefore her. \"We are ordered off,\" he said. \"We go in an hour. I've\nbut one moment to stay, for I promised Harry to leave him time to\ncome and say good-by.\"\n\nIn the white, scared look on Sybil's face he read the right to speak.\n\nBut it had all been so hurried, she thought, when he was gone. Oh!\nfor one of those minutes to return, that she might express to him a\ntenth part of the joy and pain, the hope and terror, that filled her\nheart. She could remember nothing clearly or in order, and yet she\nwould have given all the other memories of her happy life to recall\neach word as it was spoken. He had asked her to give him something\nof her own, a ring, a glove, a ribbon, no matter what. And she had\ntaken from her neck the medallion, and laid in it a little curl of\nher hair, and given it to him; and she had felt his hand upon her\nhead, and heard him say, \"God keep my sweet, innocent love!\" And\nwhen she lifted her head he was gone, and she had told him nothing.\nIt could not be a dream, for on her left hand was the ring he placed\nthere--one that she had seen him wear, and thought too beautiful a\njewel for a man to have, but now she felt so glad that he had worn\nit. He had said this was to be the guard of the wedding-ring that he\nwould place there as soon as he could get a furlough to come home;\nand she had said--yes, thank God! she did remember saying that, at\nleast--she had said that no one but himself should take off this ring\nor put another in its place; yes, thank God! she had said it.\n\nThen Harry had come, too overjoyed at the news of her engagement to\nfeel the pain of parting. That memory was full of turmoil; mixed,\ntoo, with self-reproach that all other emotion was so lost in her new\njoy or pain, whichever it might be called, that Harry's going gave\nher no uneasiness.\n\nThe sun dropped behind the hills; star after star pierced through the\ndarkening blue. Stillness lay on the valley below, so lately full of\ntramping horses, and shouting men, and shifting lights.\n\nAt last she heard her aunt's voice calling her, and roused herself\nto go and tell her beautiful story, old as the human race, new as\nthat very June evening. She wondered that Aunt Mildred understood it\nall so well. Short-sighted Sybil! it was you who were beginning to\nunderstand Miss Mildred.\n\nOne August day, when a sultry fog held the earth in bondage, and\nscarlet geraniums blazed like red pools among the wilted grass, Miss\nMildred pushed open the little white gate, and, with that hurried\nstep that in old age so poorly simulates speed, hastened across the\nlawn. She gave a quick glance into the two parlors which were vacant,\nand then went up-stairs, grasping nervously the low hand-rail. In the\nupper hall she stopped, and leaned against the balustrade to take\nbreath, and courage, too. Then, opening the door of Sybil's room,\nshe stopped on the threshold to see her lying on the floor with a\nnewspaper crushed in her hand. A bulletin in the village post-office\nhad told her all: \"Found dead on the field, Captain Robert Adair,\n--th Regt. Mass. Vols.\" They lifted Sybil up and laid her on her bed.\nShe did not \"strive nor cry,\" but in that first grief it pleased God\nto measure her power of endurance.\n\nIt was not in victory that Adair had fallen, but in one of those\nengagements where, humanly speaking, life seems thrown away. But\nsuch thoughts should not disturb the mourners cradled in the\nprovidence of God. He chooses the time and the occasion, and what is\nlost in the current of human events he gathers up and cherishes.\n\nWeeks passed away. Letters came--precious in their recognition of\nAdair's high integrity, his courage, his compassion; letters, too,\nfrom his mother, far away in her summer home, acknowledging Sybil\nas one with her in love and bereavement. But she lay, white and\nlistless, on her bed, taking little notice of anything except in the\nexpression of gratitude. Harder than anything else for her aunt to\nbear was the pathos of Sybil's resignation.\n\nThere came a soft afternoon, early in September, when for the\nfirst time Sybil's easy-chair was placed in the open air, under a\nstriped awning that made an out-door room on the west side of Holly\nFarmhouse. Here she could be sheltered from the direct rays of the\nsun, and yet enjoy the trees and flowers.\n\nGreat velvet bees hid their heads buzzing in the freshly-opened\ncups of the day-lilies; a hummingbird dipped his dainty beak into\nthe sweet-peas, and then flashed away to hide himself among the\nnasturtiums pouring in a golden stream over a broken tree-trunk on\nthe lawn.\n\nAmid the glow of nature, Sybil looked very wan and frail. She had\nbegun to think a little now, and her thoughts ran thus: \"I am\nresigned to God's will. I've not the shadow of a doubt that this\nis all right. I am more than willing to die; I am willing to live,\nif only there is a thread to hold by--a stone, a stick, a straw to\nbegin to build my life upon. Other women have borne this and lived.\nI've seen them going about among their fellow-creatures, talking,\nsmiling, laughing, when others talked, and smiled, and laughed. I\nhave no more sensibility than they. What I have lost was perfect; but\nwhat they had lost was perfect, perhaps, to them. I don't rebel, but\nI am dying of pain. It goes on, and on, and on; if it would stop but\nfor ten minutes and let me take breath, I think I could catch hold of\nsomething on earth and begin to live again. There's that dear Aunt\nMildred coming through the hall. Now, I _will_ give her a free, happy\nsmile, and lighten her burden if I cannot lighten my own.\"\n\nMiss Mildred held in her two hands a great vase of spreading\ngolden-rod, which she set down on the little garden-table. Just where\nshe had placed it, against a background of dark-green leaves, it made\nso beautiful a picture that Sybil uttered an exclamation of surprise\nand pleasure. There was a delighted look on her aunt's sweet old\nface that made her think: \"Here is something to hold on by; here is\nsomething to build on, if only I am generous enough to try.\"\n\nMiss Mildred arranged the cushions in Sybil's chair, and then took\nher hand very gently.\n\n\"There is a man in the hall, dear, who brings you a little packet\nfrom Virginia. Can you see him?\"\n\n\"Yes; at once, if you like. Please let him come out here. I can talk\nto him better in the open air.\"\n\nHe came--a shy, elderly man, whom Sybil remembered seeing once at\nthe camp. He stood awkwardly, shifting his military hat from hand\nto hand, till she asked him to sit down near her, and said a few\nreassuring words. Then, seeing that he was struggling to conquer his\nemotion, she fixed her eyes on the vase of flowers, trying to keep\ndown the impatience struggling within her.\n\n\"My name is Abel, lady,\" he said, at length. \"May be you've heard the\ncap'n say as how I couldn't play the bugle, at the camp below there.\nThe folks all said I couldn't learn, I was so old and dull; but he\nallus believed everybody was good for something, he did.\"\n\nSybil was leaning forward, breathless to hear more.\n\n\"I remember you,\" she said. \"Oh! do go on. Tell me everything--every\nlittle thing about it all.\"\n\n\"Wall, you see, lady, my two boys they was all I had, and they jined\nthe regiment, and I couldn't live without 'em; and I was hale and\nstrong, and so I made bold for to jine, too. There was one place left\nin the regiment then--the bugler's place, in Company B--and I pled\nso hard, the cap'n he said I might try. And, lady, the plaguy thing\nused to seem to shut right up when I wanted to make it blow, and the\nmen used to laugh at me, right out afore my boys. And Abner and John\nHenry they felt kind o' cheap, and they kept sayin' to me, 'Father,'\nthey says, 'it makes us feel kind o' bad to hear you tryin' so hard\nand not learnin'; don't you think you'd better give it up?' And says\nI, 'No, boys,' says I, 'while there's breath in my body, I won't give\nit up till I've conquered that crittur.' And, lady, when the cap'n\nsee me tryin' so hard and allus comin' to grief, what does he do but\nhe takes hold himself, and he learns all them signals, and he teaches\non 'em to me. And so I went to the war with my boys, and I nursed\nJohn Henry through a fever, and I kept Abner from fallin' into bad\ncompany; and, lady, if I could have saved the cap'n's life by givin'\nmy skin inch by inch, I'd have done it; but I couldn't. So I just\nheld his head against this old heart, and let him breathe his life\naway. And I laid him down on the sod as tender as if I'd been his\nmother.\"\n\n\"May God reward you! Did he suffer much?\"\n\nTears, such as she had longed for, were pouring from her eyes.\n\n\"No, lady; he was gone before the surgeons came on to the field. He\nlay quite still, without a moan or sigh; and, now and then, he'd say\na word to me. I was wounded, too, just below the knee. I dropped down\nabout six feet off from him; and when the retreat came, and I saw as\nhow I was left behind with the cap'n, didn't I praise the Lord!\"\n\n\"What did he say to you?\"\n\nAbel took a little packet from his breast, and laid it in Sybil's\nhand. \"He says to me, 'Abel,' says he, 'when you can get a furlough\n_honorable_,' says he--'for you mustn't go when the country needs you\nbad--you take this locket' (a-unhookin' it from his neck) 'to Miss\nSybil Vaughan--her that lives in the stone farmhouse above our old\ncamp at Holly Farm--and you tell her as how the poor thing tried to\nsave my life; and she'll see it by the great dent in the gold made by\na bullet. And you tell her as how she's to open it herself, and see\nwhat I put there. And you tell her '--I'm a Methodist, lady, but I'll\ntell you word for word what he said.\"\n\n\"Yes, word for word.\"\n\n\"'You tell her,' says he, 'how I pray that Christ and his Blessed\nMother may be her comfort as they are mine; and tell her as how I've\nnever let a thought enter my mind, since we parted, that she wouldn't\nhave approved. And tell her,' says he, a-raisin' himself half-way up\nfrom the ground, 'you tell her I love her fond and true, and that\nwe shall meet in heaven when she's done the work on earth she is so\nfit to do. And tell her to comfort my mother. Poor mother!' And\nthen he put his arm round my neck, and kind o' stroked my cheek, and\nhe says, soft and low, a few words, and all I heard was, 'Receive\nmy soul,' and then I kissed him, and laid him down on the turf, and\nhis face was like as I think it will be in heaven at the great day.\nAnd now I'm goin' to leave you, lady, 'cos I know as how you want to\nbe alone. And, with your leave, I'll come again, and tell you how\nwe loved him, and how we cried like babies round the ambulance that\nbrought him to the camp; and how there was scarce anything left to\nsend home to his mother, 'cos he used to give his things away to the\nsick boys--blankets, and money, and shirts, and all.\"\n\nThen Abel took Sybil's delicate hand reverently on his broad, brown\npalm, and kissed it.\n\n\"Lady,\" he said, \"you're the only thing ever I see that was fit to\nmate with him.\"\n\n\"You will come again,\" she said. \"As you have no daughter, and there\nmust be many things needed to make you comfortable during your\nconvalescence, you will let me see to all that. And you will let me\nreplace the many things you must have lost or worn out during these\nhard three months?\"\n\nShe spoke beseechingly, looking up into his face like a child\npleading for a toy.\n\n\"You shall just wind me round your finger like he did,\" said Abel. \"I\nallus thought I'd got grit in me till I seen him, and then it seemed\nas though I hadn't no will but his'n.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSybil was alone with the little packet. With trembling fingers she\nuntied the string and removed the wrappings of paper. There lay\nthe medallion with its twisted chain. She passionately kissed the\nbattered enamel that had stood between him and death. Then she\nopened the locket. With the silky, yellow curl lay a little lock of\ndark-brown hair. She was touching it tenderly, wondering when he had\nplaced it there for her consolation--whether just before the skirmish\nor soon after he left her--when a turn of the locket in the level\nrays of the sun showed two words scratched on the inner side with\nsome rude instrument. She looked closer, and read: \"Noblesse Oblige.\"\n\nWhen Miss Mildred came to lead her into the house, there was a change\nin her face that filled the gentle lady's heart with gratitude. It\nwas the look of courage that comes to those who recognize the claim\nof their high birth as the children of God.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SPIRIT OF CATHOLIC ASSOCIATIONS.\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE CIVILTA CATTOLICA.\n\n\nI.\n\nAll societies have aims, more or less remote, which they aspire to\nrealize. Catholic societies have an object which they also strive\nto accomplish. Theirs is the victory of the church over the modern\nIslamism, the enemy of all religion and civilization, commonly called\nthe Revolution. This monster, once obtaining control of the state,\nfills nations with ruins, and in its proud ferocity ever threatens\nnew disorders and fresh streams of blood. Catholic associations, in\norder to be victorious, must pass over the dead body of this powerful\nenemy. There is no other way. The enterprise is difficult, requires\ngreat courage, absolute generosity, and endurance capable of every\ntrial. But they will win the day; they will yet sing the hymn of\ntriumph; for they march to the battle and fight it in the proper\nspirit: that is, the Catholic spirit. The victory will be theirs; but\nonly on conditions.\n\nReason proves it. The labor of a society must be proportioned to the\nend proposed, as the force must be adequate to the effect intended.\nIt is impossible that an army can win a battle if the necessary\ndiscipline, obedience to officers, and courage be wanting. So with\nCatholic associations. Their object, being a religious one, a\ncrusade which purposes to assure the triumph of Catholic doctrines\nand institutions, it is impossible for them to act with vigor, to\nbear the fatigue, stand the brunt of their adversaries' onslaught,\nconquer their errors, and subdue their forces, unless they are moved,\nanimated, and fortified by the spirit which is peculiar to Catholic\nassociations. If they march to the combat with inadequate forces or\nlax discipline, they will only become objects of derision to their\nenemies.\n\nWhat is the spirit of Catholic societies? It is the spirit of\nfaith. Sacred phalanxes of a religion whose foundation is faith;\nrestorers of principles that are derived from faith; protectors of\ninstitutions based on faith--how can they do battle if their minds\nbe not animated with the spirit of faith, if their deliberations be\nnot inspired with it; if their works be not its visible effects? Yes;\nthe spirit of faith is the peculiar spirit of Catholic associations;\nit is their essence, their qualifying property, and the secret power\nwhich impels the Catholic onward to the heroism of virtue. Give us\nCatholic associations animated by a spirit of living, fervid faith,\nand great acts will not be slow in production. Examples of it may be\nseen in the immense and sublime temples erected when the spirit of\nfaith burned in the breasts of our forefathers, to whom it was only\nnecessary to propose the plan in order to have it carried out; and\nin those chivalrous bands of knights who armed themselves against\nMohammedan fury, and fell pierced by numberless wounds on the ground\ngiven them to defend, but never yielding an inch to the foe.\n\nCatholic associations imbued by a spirit like this need not fear the\npower of their adversaries, nor heed their numbers. Faith in the\nconflict is the buckler which cannot be broken, the shield which\ncannot be pierced, the flag which counts as many victories as the\nbattles fought under its folds. Let all the members of Catholic\nassociations march to the contest clothed in this armor, and they\nwill be invincible. St. Paul advised this to the Thessalonians and\nto the Ephesians. This also was the counsel of St. John.[149] What\nmore do we want? Does not St. John tell us that faith and victory\nare synonymous terms? \"_For whatsoever is born of God overcometh\nthe world: and this is the victory which overcometh the world, our\nfaith._\"[150]\n\n\nII.\n\nIt must be remembered, however, that this spirit of faith must\nnot be a blind spirit, or march to battle with uncertain steps.\nAssociations actuated by such a spirit prosper slowly; without\npurpose, and consequently without success. The reason is plain, for\nit is certain that the more thoroughly influenced is a human mind\nby a motive, the more earnestly will it strive to obtain an object.\nIt is, therefore, evident that the spirit of Catholic associations\nmust be an enlightened spirit, thoroughly knowing what it wants. The\nRevolution--great mistress in the arts of hypocrisy, great employer\nof every species of argument in its favor through the license of the\npress, great seducer by the advantages which it proposes--if it does\nnot always succeed in catching real Catholics in its net, at least\nsows such prejudices in the minds of some as will make them less\nhostile to its work or less earnest in the defence of Catholicism,\nwhich is another name for truth and justice. This is the first\ndanger to be shunned by Catholic associations. The Catholic societies\nmust not let themselves be seduced by the seductive monsters of the\nrevolution. The quality and natural goodness of the tree is not known\nso well by its leaves as by its fruit. It is, therefore, necessary to\ngo deeper than the mere extrinsic forms to penetrate the substance of\nthe work done by the revolution. Oh! how many motives to spur on to\naction would Catholics find in such an investigation! A rapid glance\nwill convince them of this fact.\n\nObserve the religious order. Let the Catholic associate consider, in\nthis regard, a country in which the revolution has made progress. He\nwitnesses the most impious and most lamentable scenes; the church\ndeprived or curtailed of liberty, insulted in her ministers, attacked\nby literary barbarians, by trammelling laws, or infamous writings;\nher destruction sworn, Christ impugned in his doctrines, derided in\nhis sacraments, his divinity denied; God excluded from laws, banished\nfrom the school; men grouped in hostility to him, shouting, in full\ndaylight under the banner of the free-thinkers, like a horde of\nsavages, \"There is no God!\"\n\nPass to the social order. Here a new spectacle of grief is presented.\nEvery effort is used to take away from the community its common\nbelief and to plunge individuals into the vortex of incredulity; a\nblack cloud of practical errors, moving over the nations, abolishing\nthe restraint of conscience, rendering the populace the slaves of the\nvilest and most truculent passions; the basis of all authority, human\nand divine, sapped; the most powerful governments crumbling to dust,\nand threatening to fall a prey either to perpetual anarchy or brutal\ntyranny.\n\nConsider the nature of the means employed. What a sad view! Perpetual\nconspiracies, shameless treasons, frauds and deceptions, lies and\ncalumnies, unmitigated oppression and violence. Furnished with these\nweapons, the revolutionary bands war on God, on Christ, and on his\nchurch. The revolution, like a shameless woman, blushes not at its\ncrimes, but glories in its success.\n\nConsider the results. Every religious conviction blotted out, the\nprinciples of morality annihilated or obscured, authority destroyed,\nand consequently a society springing up composed of men without\ncertainty in regard to their end, without any immutable law to\nrestrain them, without any bond of affection to unite them. Hence,\nwe have the unrestrained indulgence of the passions, egotism the\nuniversal law, force and cunning the only arms, and mutual demolition\nthe consequence. The old French revolution proves it; the modern one\nof Paris confirms it. The revolutionary Gu\u00e9roult himself attests it\nin stating that the Parisian insurrection \"is disorder, destruction,\nself-abandonment, the putrid decomposition of a society without\nbelief, without compass Or ideal.\"[151] The results of the revolution\nmay be summed up in one phrase: it makes men beasts, and society\nbestial.\n\nA Catholic association which considers these effects of the\nrevolution in the light of faith, appreciating the means employed and\nthe sad results, cannot act remissly. It is not possible; it must\nrise in the name of the rights of God, of Christ, of the church; in\nthe name of that religious belief which is attempted to be taken from\nthe people, and the principles of moral reason; it must rise full of\nshame for society, which tolerates such horrible abuses and crimes.\nIt will rise to repair these defects with gladness. The spirit of\nfaith, strengthened by the motives proposed, will spur it on in\nits efforts. The Catholic associations of Germany are undoubtedly\nenergetic; so are those of Austria; but the secret of their force is\nfound in the fact that the men who lead them are men of strong faith\nand of great prudence and intelligence. This is evident from their\ncongresses, in their speeches and newspapers. Catholic associations\nin other lands would do well to imitate them.\n\n\nIII.\n\nThe motives just proposed are powerful, but their source is\ndisagreeable. There are others more pleasant to consider. Among these\nlatter is the nobility of the end proposed by Catholic associations.\nThis is not, as has been calumniously stated, to revenge the defeat\nof a certain political order, or to satisfy natural restlessness.\nCatholic associations, vivified by the true spirit of faith, do not\nstoop so low. They aim at things far higher. The name which they\nbear, the rules which they profess to follow, the works already\naccomplished where they have been established, attest it. Their\nparticular object is to drag men, made slaves by the revolution, out\nof the mire of incredulity and immorality into which false principles\nhave plunged them. They strive to re-establish society on the true\nbases of truth and justice, to restore tranquillity to peoples\ndisturbed by the passions of party and the fury of false teachers.\nThey aim to reclaim for God the obedience which is his due, the honor\nwhich belongs to Christ, the rights taken from the church; to give\ntrue liberty--the liberty of the Gospel--to all; to draw men away\nfrom the carnal happiness proposed to them by the revolution; and to\nmake them seek that beatitude which every rational Christian should\ndesire. The revolution threatens everything--religion in society and\namong individuals; the Catholic associate declares himself their\nchampion.\n\nSuch is the noble aim of Catholic associations; hence the nobleness\nof the conflict in which they are engaged. What is this conflict?\nIt is the struggle of truth against error, of right against might,\nof civilization against barbarism, of duty to God, Christ, and his\nchurch against impiety, blasphemy, and injustice. The revolution\nmeans the renewal among men of the revolt of Lucifer and his angels;\nthe Catholic associations are the faithful cohorts of God and his\nChrist. Their war-cry is that of St. Michael: _Quis ut Deus et\nChristus ejus?_ Who is like to God and his Christ?\n\nThis war-cry has been explicitly recommended in the New Testament.\nThe words are given by St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, and plainly\nreferred to by St. Paul. \"Whoever,\" says Christ, \"confesses me in\nthe midst of this sinful and adulterous race, whoever makes public\nprofession of my doctrine, will be recognized by me before the\nangels, before the tribunal of my Father in heaven.\"[152] Does not\nthe present generation publicly boast of making a divorce between\nitself and God and Christ? Giving loose rein to passion under\nthe specious names of liberty of conscience and the preaching of\nlicentious doctrines, modern society is plunging into the abyss of\niniquity. Hence, the Catholic associates must rise courageously\nin the midst of this generation, confess Christ openly, publicly\naffirm his doctrines, and defend them in the face of his enemies.\nThe Catholic associates must revive the praises of Christ; to them\nare his divine promises addressed, to them belong the irrevocable\nguarantees of being placed near the throne of his Father. Combating\nbravely and bearing themselves like true champions of the religion of\nChrist, their fate is not and cannot be doubtful.\n\nLet the Catholic associations, therefore, advance courageously to\nthe fight, bearing the banner of Christ against the standard of\nthe revolution. Humanity, liberty, progress, light, are written on\nthe adverse flag, but they are stolen words. In the mouths of the\nrevolutionists they are lies. The flag of humanity is not that which\ndestroys its rights, but that which defends them; nor of _liberty_,\nthat which makes men slaves of their passions instead of freeing\nthem; nor of _progress_, that which has no aim, but that which leads\nto something definite; nor of light, that which begets obscurity\nin the intellect, destroying its most obvious principles, but that\nwhich illuminates intelligence with divine revelation. This latter is\nthe banner of Catholic associations, consequently it is the flag of\nhumanity, of liberty, of progress, the standard of light.\n\n\nIV.\n\nThe forces of Catholic associations must act in concert. It is not\nenough that their members be vigorous and animated with an ardent\nfaith. There must be harmony of intelligence among them. Woe to the\nsociety whose members have different principles or contradictory\nplans! Like a machine whose wheels do not move harmoniously, ruin\nwill result. There must be uniformity of principles and thorough\nharmony of intelligence if the Catholic associates hope to obtain\ngreat successes.\n\nHarmony in generalities is easy; but not so in particulars. If you\nask a Catholic assembly what it wants, all the members will reply,\n\"The propagation and triumph of Catholic principles.\" But if you\ndescend to particular enquiries, you may meet difficulties that close\nthe way to success; disputes about fixed principles must therefore be\neliminated from Catholic associations.\n\nThese associations are in the first place essentially laic, therefore\nit is not their business to decide questions of principle. Their aim\nis a practical one, namely, to annul the efforts of the revolution,\nto introduce the principles of Catholicity where they do not exist,\nand strengthen them where they do. It is not of their competence\nto determine them. They are called Catholic, therefore, in case\nof doubt, they must recur to the teaching church and accept her\ndecisions. We repeat: the Catholic associations must keep within the\nbounds imposed by their very nature and title, and then there will\nbe no collision of views, no wasting of precious time in useless\ndisputes, no schisms and separations; but, with all the force of a\nstrong faith, they will advance with dignity, security, and success\nin their undertakings.\n\nIn confirmation of this, we quote an apposite passage from the\ndiscourse pronounced by his eminence, Cardinal Schwarzenberg, in\nthe general congress of the Catholic associations held at Prague\nin 1860. \"The object of Catholic associations,\" says the eminent\nprelate, \"is to take measures to introduce and assist the teaching,\nthe principles, the precepts, and the desires of the church in\nthe schools, in the life of the citizen and of the family, among\nmerchants and men of business. Their duty is to support the teaching\nchurch by counsel and co-operation. Their duty is also to acknowledge\nwith joyful mind the doctrines of the church, to follow them, defend\nand sustain them.\"\n\nWho does not admit the great good performed by the Catholic\nassociations of Germany in the course of the few years during which\nthey have been established? And if we study the reason of their\nsuccess, we shall find it in the undisturbed harmony of their views.\nThe spirit of \"liberal Catholicism\" tried to influence them, but in\nvain. Their associates, mindful of their title and of their duty to\nthe pastors of the church, and especially to the Roman Pontiff, obey\nhis instructions without subtle distinctions and commentaries, and\nemploy their talents properly in securing their prosperity.\n\nAn instance of their Catholic zeal is found in the letter sent to the\nPope by the assembly held at Innsbr\u00fcck preparatory to the general\ncongress of the German Catholic societies in 1867. In that letter\nwe read as follows: \"On the 9th, 10th, and 11th of September, with\nthe consent and approval of the most reverend Bishop of Brixen, the\nCatholics of Innsbr\u00fcck, the capital of the Tyrol, will be gathered\ntogether in order to defend courageously their religion as far as\nGod and their strength will allow; and, the errors and lies of vain\nmen being rejected, such errors as your holiness has pointed out\nand condemned with fulness of authority in your encyclical letters,\nin order also to take salutary counsel required by the character of\nthe times and circumstances, so as to promote the growth of Catholic\nlife and charity, under the patronage of the Blessed Virgin Mary.\nAn immense war, as you, Holy Father, have expressed it, is waged\nagainst divine revelation, against the Catholic Church, against the\napostolic see, against good morals and Christian charity, the queen\nof all the virtues. While this war rages, every Catholic becomes a\nsoldier of Christ; _but we cannot carry on a good and just war if we\ndo not cling with all the ardor of our soul to the apostolic see,\nfastened to that rock which God has placed in Rome; and if we are not\nhelped and sustained by your supreme authority and your efficacious\nblessing; wherefore, we_ earnestly _desire from our very inmost\nhearts to venerate_, follow, and obey you, _the Vicar of Christ_,\nyou, the chief pastor of the whole flock of the Lord, you, father of\nall the faithful. This is the unanimous feeling of all those who will\nbe assembled in September at Innsbr\u00fcck; this is the universal desire;\nand, all animated by this thought, God will defend the Christian\ndoctrine and Christian charity.\"\n\nLet these be the sentiments of all Catholic associations that may\nspring up; let this be their programme and the foundation of their\nconstitution. The spirit of prompt submission to the teaching of\nthe church should animate them. This is a simple consequence of the\nfirst element of Catholic life. Christ never said to any theologian,\nerudite man, learned historian, or particular society, \"Be ye masters\nof the church, and let her hear you;\" but he did say so to the\nbishops and to the pope in the person of the apostles and of Peter.\nOnly one blinded by his own pride can deny this fundamental principle\nof the Catholic religion. The spirit of prompt obedience to lawful\nauthority is the secret which alone will render Catholic societies\ncapable of success.\n\nBut harmony of intelligence is not the only means by which Catholic\nassociations can manifest their spirit. There must be unity of\nfeeling and co-ordination of will, elements essential to every\nsociety.\n\n\nV.\n\nA Catholic association which possesses the spirit of submission to\nthe teaching church, and possesses harmony of intelligence, is on\nthe right road, and may hope to prosper in its undertakings. But how\noften does it happen that a serious impediment, an insurmountable\nbarrier, stops the progress of a brave legion and disappoints\nthe well-founded hopes of victory! Here is a danger which the\nbest-intentioned Catholic association may encounter; an obstruction,\nan invincible barrier, which may arise from the unexpected\ndisagreement of wills. Agreement of wills is essential as well as\nharmony of intelligence.\n\nIt is evident that, in order to maintain this agreement, we must\nremove the causes which might disturb it. There are two sources of\ndiscord; one arising from the internal relations of a society. The\nintellects may agree on the principles to be sustained, and the wills\nconsent as to the end proposed; but the task is for the members\nto choose the same means and put them in practice. Here may arise\nthe discord. Some project or design is proposed. It is debated.\nThe dispute waxes warm. Hard words are interchanged. The majority,\nof course, carry the project; but the minority may disagree and\nrefuse to co-operate in its execution. Hence disaffection, schisms,\nand secessions in the association. What is the root of all these\ntroubles? It is, in one word, pride, the root of all schisms. One\nthinks himself more learned, of greater rank or of more experience\nthan the others, therefore he will not be led by their judgment but\nby his own self-conceit. The trouble is small in the beginning,\nbut it may produce disastrous results. What is the remedy? It is to\nbring to every discussion the true Catholic spirit of abnegation\nand of sacrifice. Whims and prejudices must be laid aside for the\nsake of harmony and the noble cause to be defended. Our God is a God\nof peace, not of commotion and disturbance. The best plan is not\nalways that suggested by our weak judgment. Provided the plan of the\nmajority be a good one, though it may not be the most perfect, still,\nfor peace sake, let us adopt it, according to the advice of Xavier,\nthat it is better to accept a unanimous plan, though not the best,\nrather than a perfect one which would cause dissensions among our\nbrethren.\n\nThe second cause of dissensions may be in the external relations\nof the associates. This would be the more dangerous, because the\noccasion of it might be an apparent external good to be effected. The\nwill of the bishop or of the pastor may not agree with the desire\nof the society. In a case of this kind, if the society should act\nin spite of the episcopal will or opposed to it publicly, a great\nscandal would happen in the diocese, and the society would fall to\npieces. What is the remedy for such calamities? The associates must\nhave filial reverence and obedience for the pastors of the church.\nThen all difficulties will cease. This is required by the very object\nof the association, which is to aid the bishops in religious matters;\nit is also required by the dignity of the bishops, since the Holy\nGhost has called them to be rulers in the church. His holiness Pius\nIX. clearly teaches that this should be the bearing of Catholic\nsocieties toward their pastors, in his answer to the Catholics of\nInnsbr\u00fcck.\n\nHere we may quote what a bishop said in the general congress held to\ncondemn the proceedings of the so-called German Catholic liberals.\nThese gentlemen, under the appearance of doing good, had expressed\ntheir usual lamentations about the storms that threatened the church,\nthe danger to her future freedom, unless the laity were allowed a\ngreater influence in religious matters; to deny them this influence,\nas had been done so far, would be to render them inert and careless\nabout church matters. Such were the complaints--complaints of the\ndiscontented son who is trying to deprive his mother of complete\ncontrol of the house--subtle revolutionary complaints against the\nauthority of the hierarchy. The Bishop of Brixen, answering them,\nsaid, \"What kind of influence do laymen want in the church? To\ncontrol dogma? They cannot. Discipline? They cannot. Influence\nof the laity is too vague a conception, and, besides, a useless\none. In order that it should produce benefits, its limits should\nbe determined, its conditions explained. But it is well known\nthat the chief among them is faithful dependence on the teachings\nand authority of the church, since the words of the apostle suit\nindividuals as well as the whole church: 'The just man lives by\nfaith.' The life of the church requires nothing but what comes from\nfaith. Hence, when the church finds a layman who manifests his faith\nin his words and actions, she honors him, salutes him with joy as\na co-operator not having belied the words of the apostle of love:\nLet us be co-workers of truth, co-operators in propagating and\nstrengthening it, and in assuring its triumph. In every age there\nhave been many such men, like our modern Catholic associations, and\nfor this reason we protect them, salute, esteem them; and the best\nproof of our love for them is that we have hastened to come to this\nsolemn congress of lay associations, assembled to defend Catholic\ninterests.\" Thus spoke the learned prelate. In conclusion, a Catholic\nsociety must not touch on dogmatic subjects, nor interfere in affairs\npertaining to ecclesiastical discipline: it should observe proper\nrespect and obedience toward its bishops, and then the bishops will\naid, bless and sustain it.\n\n\nVI.\n\nThe parts of a machine, in order to act in concert, must be united\naccording to mechanical laws: so associations must obey the laws of\norder. They must have co-ordination of forces. In this consists the\npeculiar advantage of association. Each one has its constitution\nand by-laws. Let it observe them, adapting them to the wants and\npeculiarities of each nation. The difficulty is really not in\nenacting laws for it, but to keep them in vigor.\n\nThe associates must have the spirit of order. Then the execution of\nlaws will be easy. Such a spirit will make each member mind his own\nposition; each officer act in his own sphere without infringing on\nthe rights of others. The object of the association being to act\nwith united forces, this purpose cannot be effected by a disorderly\nmass of individuals, acknowledging no obedience to a local or\ngeneral superior. Each particular society will become jealous of its\nneighbor, unless all agree to obey implicitly a central committee.\nPrivate utility and individuality must be sacrificed to the public\ngood; jealousy, self-love, personal advantage, these three causes\nthat tend to disrupt the co-ordination of the common forces, must\nbe sacrificed to the common welfare, and to the end for which the\nassociation was established, as it is an elementary rule of order\nthat the private must be sacrificed for the public good. For this\nreason we consider that society best in which the strictest bonds\nare maintained between the members and the centre or head. Does not\nunion make strength? A necessary consequence is that the force is\nproportioned to the union. Baron Stillfried, a name dear to Catholics\nby reason of his fervid zeal for religion, rendering an account of\nwhat the Confraternity of the Archangel St. Michael, founded in\nVienna in 1860, had done, confessed that, owing to dissensions among\nthe members, and the consequent lack of union of forces, the results\nhad been relatively few. On the contrary, who does not admire the\nwonderful success obtained by the Catholic _Casini_ of Austria in\nfavor of the pontifical cause, owing to their unity of purpose and\nunion of forces? They obliged the president of the council to receive\ntheir complaints; they obliged the chancellor of the empire to excuse\nhimself; they moved all the Catholic populations to such a spirit of\naction in favor of religion, tied down by the iniquitous laws of the\nrevolution, that all the journals of the secret societies bellowed\nand blasphemed like lunatics, fearing the destruction of their\nnefarious designs.\n\nThe multiplicity of Catholic interests gives rise to many\nassociations differing according to the difference of their aims.\nShould this diversity have no common bond of union? By no means. Some\nhave for object matters of essential importance, as, for instance,\nthe freedom of the church, her right to educate, and the independence\nof her head. In regard to these subjects, all the associations should\nunite. Is it necessary to prove this? Is it not self-evident?\nAssociations that would act differently would resemble those Chinese\ntroops which neglected the defence of the most important posts,\ncontenting themselves with guarding places of secondary importance.\n\nCatholic societies are not bands of conspirators, they do not excite\nrebellions, nor use violence or deceit to gain their purpose. These\narts are left to the revolutionists. Catholics need no weapons but\ntruth and justice. They must be ready to die for both. But they must\nact legally, they must not violate the civil order. Consequently,\nthey should never undertake a work without first being satisfied of\nits lawfulness.\n\nIn this way success is certain; for in modern civil society public\nopinion rules. If Catholic societies defend religion, who can object?\nFor public opinion must admit their right to do so, provided they\nviolate no laws of the state.\n\n\nVII.\n\nBut although legality is required for Catholic associations, they\nmust not be timid or cowardly. They must be brave and magnanimous.\nChrist teaches us to be magnanimous, for he gave his blood and life\nfor the love of truth and justice; the martyrs in millions died for\nthe same cause. We must imitate them. No difficulty or obstacle must\nbalk the zeal of a Catholic association. No fatigue or danger or\nsacrifice must be too great for the Catholic associate. The soldier\nof Christ must conquer difficulties. The present conflict, said\nMonsignor de Ketteler, in the congress of the Catholic associations\nof Tr\u00e8ves, needs champions who, for the love of Christ, dare expose\nthemselves to the attacks of newspapers and demagogues, to calumny\nand terms of contempt in parliament and from the rostrum. The\nCatholic spirit must be a self-sacrificing and a magnanimous one.\nEvery associate must be a Catholic before being a politician, a\nCatholic before being a man of letters, a Catholic above all things.\nHe must never be discouraged, but persevere with generous constancy,\nin spite of the attacks of enemies, or the seeming want of success of\nmany of his efforts. Let the Catholic associates remember that they\nare fighting under the very eyes of God; and that their struggles,\neven though not always successful, are a manifestation of their faith\nbefore men which will be rewarded in heaven.\n\n\nVIII.\n\nWe say this on the supposition that the combined forces of the\nassociation should produce no result. But this supposition is\nunfounded. Let the Catholic association remain constant in its\nenterprise, and it will make a new step to victory every day. It may\nfail in this or that particular measure, but the general cause will\nprosper. We know that the heads of the secret societies speak in this\nway, but they do so to deceive. We do not, for our words are founded\non solid reasons.\n\nThe first is drawn from the nature of the two causes in conflict. The\nrevolution is the cause of error and injustice; Catholicism is the\ncause of truth and justice, consequently the cause of Catholicism is\nconformable to the nature of man, formed for the true and the good,\nwhile the cause of the revolution is in contradiction with man's\nnature. How can any nature remain long in a state of contradiction\nwith itself? Passion or ignorance may obscure for a time the human\nintelligence, but when the contradiction is felt and known, nature\nrevolts against it with all its power, and frees itself. Now, as the\nassociations in the interest of the Catholic faith are striving to\nenlighten our intellect with the light of truth, and to repress the\nforce of passions by inculcating the love of virtue, the necessary\neffect of such labor must be that the cause of the revolution will\ndaily lose ground as the light of truth, becoming more apparent,\nshows the falsity of certain principles. The more the Catholic\nassociations combine in illuminating the human intelligence and\ncorrecting the dormant moral sense of society, the more will the\nCatholic cause hasten towards triumph.\n\nReason teaches this. But revelation offers other proofs, for it gives\nus the promises of Christ. These are expressed in those passages\nin which our Lord likens his doctrines to the little leaven which\nleavens the whole mass; and when he tells his apostles to trust in\nhim, the conqueror of the world.[153] Let the Catholic associations,\ntherefore, advance in their work with confidence. They have divine\npromises in their favor. The false and iniquitous doctrines of the\nrevolution will fall to the ground. Its efforts will be in vain, its\nsuccess only local or temporary; for the friends of truth and of\nhuman rights will finally conquer. The best instincts of human nature\nand the promises of faith are with them.\n\nThe Holy Ghost tells us by the pen of St. Paul that truth must\nconquer in the end, speaking of the saints \"who triumphed over\nthe powers of earth, closed the mouths of lions, were invincible\nin the combat, and conquered their enemies.\"[154] The children of\nthe revolution, having a presentiment of their defeat by the new\nCatholic associations, have already cried To arms! and in a thousand\nways manifested their fear. Yes, the victorious future belongs to\nthe Catholic associations. Let them, therefore, arise with courage\ngrounded on the principles of faith, strengthened by the noble\nmotives of their enterprise. Harmony of intelligence, the spirit of\nsubmission to the church, agreement of wills, with the spirit of\nsacrifice, and of reverence for their pastors, will make them serried\nbattalions, moving according to law, with magnanimity, constancy,\nand confidence in God, irresistible in their attacks. Let them fight\non the battle-field of faith, and the world will soon know that the\nproud pomp of the revolution and its thousand war-cries are founded\nonly on falsehood and deceit.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[149] 1 Thess. v. 8; Ephes. vi. 11, 17.\n\n[150] 1 John v. 4.\n\n[151] _Bien Public_, n. 82.\n\n[152] Matt. x. 32, 33; Mark viii. 38; Luke xii. 8; Tim. ii. 12.\n\n[153] John xvi. 33; Matt. xiii. 33; John xvii. 20-23.\n\n[154] Heb. xi. 33, 34.\n\n\n\n\nTRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH.\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nBY HENRI LASSERRE.\n\n\nPART NINTH.\n\nI.\n\nBy reason of the events which we have narrated, M. Massy no longer\nfelt at home in this part of the earth. The emperor did not fail to\nsend him to the first prefecture which became vacant in the empire.\nBy a remarkable coincidence, this prefecture proved to be that of\nGrenoble. Baron Massy left Our Lady of Lourdes only to meet Our Lady\nof La Salette.\n\nJacomet also left the department, and was appointed chief of police\nelsewhere. Re-established upon his chosen ground, he contributed\nwith great sagacity to the detection of some dangerous criminals who\nhad baffled the efforts of his predecessor and the active search of\nthe police. The crime was a great robbery committed upon a railroad\ncompany, and amounting to several hundred thousand francs. This was\nthe point of departure in his fortunes as a police agent, his true\nvocation. His remarkable ability, appreciated by his superiors,\nraised him to a higher place.\n\nThe _procureur imp\u00e9rial_, M. Dutour, was also speedily called to\nother functions. M. Lacad\u00e9 still remained mayor, and his shadow will\nyet appear once or twice in the latter pages of our story.\n\n\nII.\n\nAlthough he had instituted the tribunal of examination towards the\nend of July, still, before permitting it to begin its work, Mgr.\nLaurence desired a more peaceful state of the public mind. \"To wait,\"\nhe thought, \"will not compromise God's work, since he holds all time\nin his hands.\" The issue proved that he was right. For after the\nstormy discussions of the French press and the violent proceedings of\nBaron Massy, the grotto finally became free, and there was no longer\nfear of the scandal of seeing police agents arresting the episcopal\ncommission on its way to the Massabielle rocks in order to fulfil its\nduty, and examine the traces of God's finger at the very place of the\napparition.\n\nOn the 17th of November, the commission went to Lourdes. They\nexamined the seer. \"Bernadette,\" says the _proc\u00e8s-verbal_ of the\nsecretary, \"presented herself before us with great modesty, and,\nnevertheless, with remarkable confidence. She appeared calm and\nunembarrassed in the midst of the numerous assembly, in presence of\ndistinguished ecclesiastics, whom she had never seen, but of whose\nmission she had been made aware.\"\n\nShe described the apparitions, the words of the Blessed Virgin,\nthe order given by Mary to build a chapel in her honor, the sudden\nbreaking out of the fountain, the name, \"Immaculate Conception,\"\nwhich the vision had given to itself. She set forth all that was\npersonal to herself in this supernatural drama with the grave\ncertainty of a witness fully convinced, and the humble candor of\na child. She answered every question, and left no obscurity in the\nmind of those who interrogated her, no longer in the name of man,\nas Jacomet had done, but in the name of the Catholic Church. Our\nreaders are already aware of the substance of her testimony. We have,\nin former pages, narrated events in the order of their date. The\ncommission visited the Massabielle rocks. It beheld the great volume\nof the miraculous fountain. It established, by the testimony of the\nneighboring inhabitants, that no spring existed there before the time\nwhen it broke forth in the presence of the multitudes under the hand\nof the ecstatic seer.\n\nAt Lourdes and in other places they made studious inquiry into the\nmiraculous cures worked by the water of the grotto.\n\nIn this delicate task there were two parts, entirely distinct. Human\ntestimony determined the facts themselves; but their natural or\nsupernatural character depended, for the most part, on the verdict of\nmedical science. The method followed by the tribunal was inspired by\nthis twofold thought.\n\nThroughout the dioceses of Lourdes, Auch, and Bayonne, the commission\nsummoned before it the subjects of these singular cures. It\ncross-examined the minutest details of their sickness, and their\nsudden or gradual restoration to health. It brought in human science\nto put those technical questions of which theologians, perhaps, would\nnot have thought. It summoned the relations, friends, neighbors, and\nother witnesses of the different phases of the event, to confirm\nevidence. Having once come to a certainty of all details, it\nsubmitted facts to the judgment of two eminent physicians admitted\nas colleagues. These physicians were Dr. Verg\u00e8s, superintendent of\nthe baths at Bar\u00e8ges, Fellow of the Medical Faculty of Montpellier,\nand Dr. Dozous, who had already, out of private interest, given his\nattention to several of these strange incidents. Each physician\ngave in his report his personal opinion regarding the nature of the\ncure, sometimes rejecting the miracle, and attributing the cessation\nof disease to certain natural causes; at other times declaring its\nutter inexplicability without the action of a supernatural power;\nand, lastly, sometimes not arriving at any conclusion, but remaining\nin doubt as to the true explanation. Thus prepared by the double\nknowledge of facts and the conclusion of science with respect to\nthem, the commission deliberated, and finally pronounced its judgment\nto the bishop, and submitted the evidence.\n\nThe commission had not and could not have any preconceived opinions.\nBelieving on principle in the supernatural, which is always to be\nmet with in the history of the world, it knew, also, that nothing so\ntends to discredit the true miracles of God as false prodigies worked\nby men. Equally indisposed to deny or affirm anything prematurely,\nhaving no brief to sustain either for or against the miracle, it was\nconfined strictly to the task of examination and sought only the\ntruth. It appealed to every source of light and information, and\nacted in full view of the public.\n\nIt was as open to unbelievers as to those who believed. Resolved to\ndiscard remorselessly all that was vague or uncertain, and to accept\nonly incontestable facts, it rejected every declaration based upon\nhearsay.\n\nIt imposed two conditions upon every witness: first, to testify only\nto what came under personal knowledge and observation; secondly,\nto state under oath the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the\ntruth.\n\nWith such precautions and an organization so prudent and wise,\nit would have been impossible for a false miracle to deceive the\njudgment of the commission. It would have been impossible, in the\nface of the hostile criticism of those who were bent upon combating\nand overthrowing every error and even the least exaggeration, to\nsustain any doubtful assertion or the miraculous character of any\ndoubtful fact.\n\nIf, then, true miracles, imperfectly proved, failed in obtaining the\nsanction of the commission, it is absolutely certain that no false\nprodigy could stand before its searching examination.\n\nWhoever had the means of contesting any one of the miracles--not by\nvague and general theories, but by facts and personal knowledge--was\nthereby summoned to appear against it. Not to do so was to give\nup the case, and acknowledge that no formal or intelligible\ncounter-evidence could be sustained. When passions run high in the\nardor of a long struggle, parties do not let judgment go by default.\nTo refuse the combat is to accept defeat.\n\n\nIII.\n\nDuring several months, the episcopal commission visited the houses of\nthose whom public notoriety designated as objects of the miraculous\ncures subjected to its examination. It established the truth of many\nmiracles. Several of them have already found a place in our history.\nTwo were quite recent. They had taken place shortly after the prefect\nhad withdrawn his prohibition and the grotto had been reopened. One\nwas at Nay, the other at Tartas. Although the recipients of these\nheavenly favors were mutually unacquainted, a mysterious bond seemed\nto connect both events. Let us relate them in order as we have\npersonally studied them, and written down what we have heard under\nthe impressions produced by the living testimony.\n\n\nIV.\n\nIn the town of Nay, where young Henry Busquet had been miraculously\ncured a few months before, a certain widow, named Madeleine\nRizan, was at the point of death. Her life had for twenty-four or\ntwenty-five years been an unbroken series of pain and sorrow. Having\nbeen attacked by the cholera in 1832, her left side had remained\nalmost entirely paralyzed. She was quite lame, and could only move\na few steps inside her house, and that only by supporting herself\nagainst the walls or furniture. Two or three times a year, in warm\nweather, she was able to go to Mass at the parish church of Nay, not\nfar from her dwelling. She was unable, without assistance, either\nto kneel or to rise. One of her hands was totally palsied. Her\ngeneral health had suffered no less than her limbs from this terrible\nscourge. She frequently vomited blood, and her stomach was unable to\nbear solid food.\n\nBeef-tea, soup, and coffee had, however, sufficed to keep up the\nflame of life, ever flickering and unable to warm her feeble body.\nShe often suffered from icy chills. The poor woman was always cold.\nEven in the heats of July and August, she always wished to see fire\nin the grate, and to have her arm-chair wheeled close to the hearth.\n\nFor the last sixteen or eighteen months, her state had been much\naggravated; the paralysis of the left side had become total. The same\ninfirmity had begun to attack the right leg. Her paralyzed limbs were\ngreatly swollen, as happens in the case of dropsy.\n\nMadame Rizan left her chair to take to her bed. She could not move,\nsuch was her weakness, and they were obliged to turn her, from time\nto time, in her bed. She was almost an inert mass. Sensibility was\ngone as well as motion.\n\n\"Where are my legs?\" she used to inquire, when any one came to move\nher. Her limbs were drawn together, and she lay continually on one\nside in the form of a Z.\n\nTwo physicians had successively attended her. Doctor Talamon had long\nsince given her up as incurable, and, although he continued to visit\nher, it was only as a friend. He refused to prescribe any remedies,\nsaying that drugs and medicines would prove fatal, or, at best, only\nenfeeble her system.\n\nDoctor Subervielle, at the repeated instance of Madame Rizan, had\nprescribed some medicines, and, soon finding them utterly useless,\nhad also given up all hope. Although her paralyzed limbs had become\ninsensible, the sufferings which this unfortunate woman experienced\nfrom her stomach and head were terrible. Owing to her constantly\ncramped position, she was afflicted by two painful sores--one in\nthe hollow of her chest, and the other on the back. On her side, in\nseveral places, her skin, chafed by the bed-clothes, exposed the\nflesh, naked and bleeding. Her death was at hand.\n\nMadame Rizan had two children. Her daughter, Lubine, lived with and\ntook care of her with the greatest devotion. Her son, Romain Rizan,\nhad a situation in a business-house at Bordeaux.\n\nWhen the last hope was gone, and Doctor Subervielle declared that she\nhad only a few hours to live, they sent in haste for her son, Romain\nRizan. He came, embraced his mother, and received her last blessing\nand farewell. Then, obliged to leave by a message peremptorily\nrecalling him--torn by the cruel tyranny of business from his\nmother's death-bed--he left her with the bitter conviction that he\nshould never see her more. The dying woman received extreme unction.\nHer agony went on amid excruciating sufferings.\n\n\"My God!\" she often murmured, \"I pray thee to end my torments. Grant\nme to be healed or to die.\"\n\nShe sent to ask the Sisters of the Cross, at Igon, where her own\nsister-in-law was superior, to make a novena to Our Lady for her\ncure or death. The sick woman also evinced a desire to drink some of\nthe water of the grotto. One of her neighbors, Madame Nessans, who\nwas going to Lourdes, promised to fetch some of the water when she\nreturned. For some time past, she had been watched day and night. On\nSaturday, October 16, a violent crisis heralded the near approach\nof her last moment. She was continually spitting blood. A livid hue\nspread over her worn features; her eyes became glassy. She no longer\nspoke, except when forced by excessive pain.\n\n\"O my God! how I suffer! O Lord! would that I might die!\"\n\n\"Her prayer will soon be granted,\" said Doctor Subervielle as he left\nher. \"She will die to-night, or at least before the sun is fairly up.\nThere is only a little oil left in the lamp!\"\n\nFrom time to time the door of her chamber opened. Friends, neighbors,\nand priests, the Abb\u00e9 Dupont and the Abb\u00e9 Sanareus, vicar of Nay,\nentered and softly inquired if she were still alive.\n\nHer friend and consoler, the Abb\u00e9 Dupont, could not restrain his\ntears as he left her. \"Before morning she will be dead, and I shall\nsee her again only in paradise,\" he said.\n\nNight fell, and solitude gradually took possession of the house.\nKneeling before a statue of the Blessed Virgin, Lubine prayed without\nany earthly hope. The silence was profound, and broken only by the\ndifficult breathing of the invalid.\n\nIt was nearly midnight. \"My daughter!\" cried the dying woman.\n\nLubine arose and approached the bed.\n\n\"What do you wish, mother?\" she asked, taking her hand. \"My dear\nchild,\" answered the dying mother, in a strange voice that seemed to\ncome from a heavy dream, \"go to our friend Madame Nessans, who was\nto have returned from Lourdes, this evening. Ask her for a glassful\nof the water from the grotto. This water will cure me. The Blessed\nVirgin wishes it.\"\n\n\"Dear mother,\" answered Lubine, \"it is too late to go there. I cannot\nleave you alone. Besides, everybody is asleep at the house of Madame\nNessans. But I will go early in the morning.\"\n\n\"Let us wait, then.\" The invalid relapsed into silence. The long\nnight finally passed.\n\nThe joyous bells at last announced the day. The morning Angelus as\nit rose carried up to the Virgin Mother the prayers of earth, and\ncelebrated the eternal memory of her all-powerful maternity. Lubine\nhastened to Madame Nessans's, and soon returned with a bottle of\nwater from the grotto.\n\n\"Here, mother! Drink! and may the Blessed Virgin come to your help!\"\nMadame Rizan raised the glass to her lips, and swallowed a few\nmouthfuls.\n\n\"O my daughter! my daughter! It is life that I am drinking! Here is\nlife in this water! Bathe my face with it! Bathe my arms! Bathe my\nwhole body with it!\"\n\nTrembling and almost beside herself, Lubine moistened a piece of\nlinen with the miraculous water, and bathed her mother's face.\n\n\"I feel that I am cured!\" she cried in a voice now clear and strong.\n\"I feel that I am cured!\"\n\nLubine meanwhile bathed with the wet linen the paralyzed and swollen\nlimbs of the invalid. Trembling with mingled joy and terror, she saw\nthe enormous swelling disappear under the rapid movement of her hand,\nand the stretched and shining skin reassume its natural appearance.\n\nSuddenly, completely, and without transition, health and life revived\nbeneath her touch.\n\n\"It seems to me as if burning pimples were breaking out all over me.\"\nIt was, doubtless, the principle of disease leaving for ever under\nthe influence of a superhuman will. All this was over in a moment.\nIn a couple of minutes the body of Madame Rizan, apparently in her\nagony, bathed by her daughter, recovered the fulness of strength.\n\n\"I am cured! perfectly cured!\" cried the happy woman. \"Oh! how good\nthe Blessed Virgin is! Oh! how powerful she is!\"\n\nAfter the first burst of gratitude toward heaven, the material\nappetites of earth made themselves keenly felt.\n\n\"Lubine, dear Lubine, I am hungry. I must have something to eat!\"\n\n\"Will you have some coffee, some wine, or some milk?\" stammered her\ndaughter, confused by the suddenness and astounding character of the\nmiracle.\n\n\"I want to have meat and bread, my daughter. I have not tasted any\nfor twenty-four years.\" There happened to be some cold meat and some\nwine near at hand; Madame Rizan partook of both. \"And now,\" said she,\n\"I want to get up.\"\n\n\"It is impossible, mother,\" said Lubine, hesitating to believe her\neyes, and fancying, perhaps, that cures which come directly from\nGod are subject, like other cures, to the degrees and dangers of\nconvalescence. She feared to see the miracle vanish as suddenly as it\nhad come.\n\nMadame Rizan insisted and demanded her clothes. They had been for\nmany months carefully folded and packed in the wardrobe never to be\nworn again. Lubine left the room to find them. Soon she re-entered.\nBut as she crossed the threshold, she uttered a loud cry, and dropped\nthe garment which she was bringing. Her mother had sprung out of bed,\nduring her absence, and there she was, before the mantelpiece, where\nshe kept a statue of the Blessed Virgin, with clasped hands returning\nthanks to her all-powerful deliverer.\n\nLubine, as frightened as if she had beheld one risen from the dead,\nwas unable to help her mother to dress. The latter, however, put on\nher clothes in an instant without any assistance, and again knelt\ndown before the sacred image.\n\nIt was about seven o'clock in the morning, and the people were going\nto the early Mass. Lubine's cry was heard in the street by the groups\nwho were passing under the windows.\n\n\"Poor girl!\" they said, \"her mother is dead at last. It was\nimpossible for her to survive the night.\" Several entered the house\nto console and support Lubine in this unspeakable affliction, among\nothers two sisters of the Holy Cross.\n\n\"Ah! poor child, your good mother is dead! But you will certainly\nsee her again in heaven!\" They approached the young girl, whom they\nbeheld leaning against the half-opened door, her face wearing a\nstupefied look. She could scarcely answer them.\n\n\"My mother is risen from the dead!\" she answered, in a voice choked\nby strong emotion.\n\n\"She is raving,\" thought the sisters, as they passed by and entered\nthe room, followed by some persons who had come up-stairs with them.\n\nLubine had spoken the truth. Madame Rizan had left her bed. There\nshe was, dressed and prostrated before the image of Mary. She arose,\nand said: \"I am cured! Let us all kneel down, and thank the Blessed\nVirgin.\"\n\nThe news of this extraordinary event spread like lightning through\nthe city. All that day and the day after the house was full of\npeople. The crowd, agitated and yet recollected, pressed to visit\nthe room into which a ray of the all-powerful goodness of God had\npenetrated.\n\nEverybody wished to see Madame Rizan, to touch the body restored to\nlife, to convince his own eyes, and grave upon his memory the details\nof this supernatural drama.\n\nDoctor Subervielle acknowledged, without hesitation, the supernatural\nand divine character of this cure.\n\nAt Bordeaux, meanwhile, Romain Rizan awaited in despair and anguish\nthe fatal missive announcing his mother's death. It was a great shock\nto him when, one morning, the postman brought him a letter addressed\nin the well-known hand of Abb\u00e9 Dupont.\n\n\"I have lost my poor mother!\" he said to a friend who had just come\nto visit him. He burst into tears, and dared not break the seal.\n\n\"Take courage in your misfortune. Have faith!\" said his friend.\n\nFinally, he opened the letter. The first words which met his eyes\nwere:\n\n\"Deo gratias! Alleluia!\n\n\"Rejoice, my dear friend. Your mother is cured--_completely cured_.\nThe Blessed Virgin has restored her miraculously to health.\" The Abb\u00e9\nDupont then went on to relate the divine manner in which Madame Rizan\nhad found at the end of her agony life instead of death.\n\nWe may easily fancy the joy of the son and of his friend. The latter\nwas employed in a printing-house at Bordeaux, where was published\nthe _Messager Catholique_. \"Give me that letter,\" said he to Romain.\n\"The works of God ought to be made known, and Our Lady of Lourdes\nglorified.\"\n\nPartly by force, and partly by entreaty, he obtained the letter. It\nwas published a few days afterward in the _Messager Catholique_.\n\nThe happy son hastened to Nay at the earliest moment. As he arrived\nin the diligence, a woman was waiting to greet him. She ran swiftly\nto meet him, and, when he descended from the coach, threw herself\ninto his arms, weeping with tenderness and joy. It was his mother.\n\nA few years afterward, the author, while searching out the details\nof his history, went in person to verify the report of the episcopal\ncommission. He visited Madame Rizan, whose perfect health and green\nold age excited his admiration. Although in her seventy-first year,\nshe has none of the infirmities which that age usually brings. Of her\nillness and terrible sufferings there remains not a trace; and all\nwho had formerly known her, and whose testimony we gathered, were yet\nstupefied at her extraordinary cure.[155] We wished to see Doctor\nSubervielle. He had been dead some years.\n\n\"But,\" we asked a clergyman of Nay, who acted as our guide, \"the\ninvalid was attended by another physician, Doctor Talamon, was she\nnot?\"\n\n\"He is a very distinguished man,\" replied our companion. \"He was\nin the habit of visiting Madame Rizan, not professionally, but as\na friend and neighbor. But after her miraculous cure he ceased his\nvisits, and did not make his appearance for eight or ten months.\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" we rejoined, \"he wished to avoid being questioned on the\nsubject, and being obliged to explain this extraordinary phenomenon,\nwhich would certainly have been out of accord with his principles of\nmedical philosophy?\"\n\n\"I do not know how that may have been.\"\n\n\"No matter; I want to see him.\"\n\nWe knocked at his door.\n\nDoctor Talamon is a tall and handsome old man, with an expressive\nand intelligent countenance. A remarkable forehead, a crown of white\nlocks, a glance which betokens positive adherence to opinions, a\nmouth varied in expression, and on which a sceptical smile often\nplays--these are the features which strike one who approaches him.\n\nWe stated the object of our visit.\n\n\"It is a long time,\" he answered, \"since all that happened, and, at\nthe distance of ten or twelve years, my memory supplies but a dim\nrecollection of the matter about which you inquire; besides, I was\nnot an eye-witness of it. I did not see Madame Rizan for several\nmonths, and, consequently, do not know by what conditions or agents,\nor with what degree of speed or slowness, her recovery was effected.\"\n\n\"But, doctor, did you not have curiosity enough to investigate such\nan extraordinary event, of which rumor must have instantly informed\nyou, especially in this place?\"\n\n\"The fact is,\" he answered, \"I am an old physician. I know that the\nlaws of nature are never reversed, and, to tell you the truth, I do\nnot believe the least bit in miracles.\"\n\n\"Ah! doctor, you sin against the faith,\" cried the abb\u00e9 who had\naccompanied me.\n\n\"And I, doctor, do not accuse you of sinning against faith, but I\naccuse you of sinning against the very principles of the science\nwhich you profess.\"\n\n\"How, pray, and in what?\"\n\n\"Medicine is not a speculative, but an empirical science. Experience\nis its law. The observation of facts is its first and fundamental\nprinciple. If you had been told that Madame Rizan had cured herself\nby washing with a decoction from some plant recently discovered on\nyonder mountain, you would not have failed to ascertain the cure\nand to examine the plant, and put the discovery on record. It might\nhave been as important as that of quinine in the last century. You\nwould have done the same if the cure had been produced by some new\nsulphurous or alkaline substance. But, now, everybody is talking\nabout a fountain of miraculous water, and you have never yet been\nto see it. Forgetting that you are a physician, that is to say,\na humble observer of facts, you have refused to notice this, as\ndid the scientific academies which rejected steam and proscribed\nquinine on some quack principles of their own. In medicine, when\nfact contradicts a principle, it means that the principle is wrong.\nExperience is the supreme judge. And here, doctor, allow me to say\nthat, if you had not had some vague consciousness that what I am\ntelling you is true, you would have rushed to find out the truth, and\nwould have given yourself the pleasure of showing up the imposture\nof a miracle which was setting the whole neighborhood wild with\nexcitement. But this would have exposed you to the danger of being\nforced to surrender; and you have acted like those party-slaves\nwho will not listen to the arguments of their opponents. You have\nlistened to your philosophical prejudices, and you have been false to\nthe first law of medicine, which is to face the study of facts--no\nmatter of what nature--in order to derive instruction from them.\nI speak freely, doctor, because I am aware of your great merits,\nand that your keen intellect is capable of hearing the truth. Many\nphysicians have refused to certify to facts of this nature, for fear\nof having to brave the resentment of the faculty and the raillery\nof friends of their profession. With regard to yourself, doctor,\nalthough your philosophy may have deceived you, human respect has had\nnothing at all to do with your keeping aloof.\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" he replied, \"but, perhaps, if I had placed myself at\nthe point of view which you have indicated, I might have done better\nby examining the matter.\"\n\n\nV.\n\nLong before the occurrences at Lourdes, at an epoch when Bernadette\nwas not yet in the world, in 1843, during the month of April, an\nhonorable family of Tartas in the Landes was in a state of great\nanxiety. The year before, Mlle. Ad\u00e8le de Chariton had been married to\nM. Moreau de Sazenay, and now approached the term of her pregnancy.\nThe crisis of a first maternity is always alarming. The medical\nmen, summoned in haste on the preliminary symptoms, declared that\nthe birth would be very difficult, and did not conceal their fear\nof some danger. No one is ignorant of the cruel anxiety of such a\njuncture. The most poignant anguish is not for the poor wife who\nis prostrated upon her bed of pain, and entirely absorbed in her\nphysical sufferings. It is the husband whose heart is now the prey\nof indescribable tortures. They are of the age of vivid impressions;\nthey have entered upon a new life, and begun to taste the joys of\na union which God seems to have blessed; they have passed a few\nmonths full of anticipations of the future. The young couple have\nset them down, so to speak, side by side in a fairy pleasure-boat.\nThe river of life has carried them softly on amid banks of flowers.\nSuddenly, without warning, the shadow of death rises before them.\nThe heart of the husband, expanded with hope for the child so soon\nto be born, is crushed by terror for his wife, who may be about to\nperish. He hears her accents of pain. How will the crisis end? Is\nit to be in joy or bereavement? What is about to issue from that\nchamber? Will it be life or death? What must we send for--a cradle or\na coffin? Or--horrible contrast--will both be necessary? Or, worse\nstill, shall two coffins be necessary? Human science is silent, and\nhesitates to pronounce.\n\nThis anguish is frightful, but especially for those who do not\nseek from God their strength and consolation. But M. Moreau was a\nChristian. He knew that the thread of our existence is in the hands\nof a supreme Master, to whom we can always appeal from the doctors of\nscience. When man has passed sentence, the King of heaven, as well as\nother sovereigns, holds the right of pardon.\n\n\"The Blessed Virgin will, perhaps, vouchsafe to hear me,\" thought the\nafflicted husband. He addressed himself with confidence to the Mother\nof Christ.\n\nThe danger which had appeared so threatening disappeared as a cloud\nupon the horizon. A little girl had just been born.\n\nAssuredly there was nothing extraordinary about this deliverance.\nHowever alarming the danger might have appeared to M. Moreau himself,\nthe physicians had never given up hope. The favorable issue of the\ncrisis may have been something purely natural.\n\nThe heart of the husband and father, however, felt itself penetrated\nwith gratitude to the Blessed Virgin. His was not one of those\nrebellious souls which demands freedom from all doubt in order to\nescape acknowledging a favor.\n\n\"What name are you going to give to your little girl?\" he was asked.\n\n\"She shall be called Marie.\"\n\n\"Marie? Why, that is the commonest name in the whole country. The\nchildren of the laboring people, the servants, are all named Marie.\nBesides, Ma_r_ie Mo_r_eau is out of all euphony. The two _m_'s\nand two _r_'s would be intolerable!\" A thousand reasons of equal\nvalidity were urged against him. There was a general protest.\n\nM. Moreau was very accessible, and easily moved by others; but in\nthis instance he resisted all counsel and entreaty; he braved all\ndiscontent, and his tenacity was really extraordinary. He did not\nallow himself to forget that, in his distress, he had invoked this\nsacred name, or that it belonged to the Queen of heaven.\n\n\"She shall be called Marie, and I wish her to take the Blessed Virgin\nfor a patroness. And I tell you the truth, this name will some day\nbring her a blessing.\"\n\nEverybody was astonished at this apparent obstinacy, but it remained\nunshaken as that of Zachary when he gave his son the name John.\nVainly did they apply every means of attack; there was no getting by\nthis inflexible will. The first-born of the family, therefore, took\nthe name of Marie. The father, moreover, desired that she should be\nvowed for three years to dress in white, the color of the Blessed\nVirgin. This, too, was done.\n\nMore than sixteen years had now passed since this episode. A second\ndaughter had been born, she was called Marthe. Mlle. Marie Moreau was\nbeing educated at the Convent of the Sacred Heart at Bordeaux. About\nthe commencement of January, 1858, she was attacked by a disease\nof the eyes, which shortly obliged her to give up her studies. She\nsupposed at first that it was only a cold which would pass off as\nit had come; but her hopes were deceived, and her complaint assumed\na most alarming character. The physician in attendance judged it\nnecessary to consult a distinguished oculist of Bordeaux, M. Bermont.\nIt was not a cold; it was amaurosis.\n\n\"Her case is a very serious one,\" said M. Bermont; \"one of the eyes\nis entirely gone, and the other in a very dangerous condition.\"\n\nThe parents were immediately notified. Her mother hastened to\nBordeaux, and brought back her daughter, in order that she might have\nat home that care, treatment, and perfect attention which the oculist\nhad prescribed in order to save the eye which yet remained, and\nwhich was so gravely affected that it could perceive objects only as\nthrough a mist.\n\nThe medicines, baths, and all the prescriptions of science proved\nuseless. Spring and autumn passed without any change for the better.\nIndeed, the deplorable condition of the invalid was daily aggravated.\nTotal blindness was approaching. M. and Madame Moreau decided to take\ntheir child to Paris, in order to consult the great medical lights.\n\nWhile engaged in hasty preparations for their journey, fearing lest\nit might be too slow to escape the danger which threatened their\nchild, the postman brought them the weekly number of the _Messager\nCatholique_. It was about the first of November, and this number of\nthe _Messager Catholique_ happened to be precisely the one which\ncontained the letter of Abb\u00e9 Dupont, and the story of the miraculous\ncure of Madame Rizan, of Nay, by means of water from the grotto.\n\nM. Moreau opened it mechanically, and his glance fell upon that\ndivine history. He turned pale as he read, hope began to awaken in\nthe heart of the desolate father, and that soul, or rather that\nheart, was touched by a gleam of light.\n\n\"There,\" said he--\"there is the door at which we must knock. It is\nevident,\" he added, with a simplicity whose actual words we delight\nto repeat, \"that, if the Blessed Virgin has really appeared at\nLourdes, she must be interested in working miraculous cures to prove\nthe truth of her apparitions. And this is especially true at first\nbefore the event is not generally believed.... Let us be in a hurry,\nthen, since in this case the first come are to be the first served.\nMy dearest wife and daughter, we must address ourselves at once to\nOur Lady of Lourdes.\" Sixteen years had not worn out the faith of M.\nMoreau.\n\nA novena was resolved upon, in which all the neighboring friends\nof the young girl were to be asked to join. By a providential\ncircumstance, a priest of the city had in his possession a bottle of\nthe water, so that the novena could be commenced at once.\n\nThe parents, in case of a cure, bound themselves to make a pilgrimage\nto Lourdes, and to devote their daughter for a year to the colors\nof white and blue, the colors of the Blessed Virgin, which she had\nalready worn for three years during her infancy.\n\nThe novena commenced on Sunday evening, the 8th of November.\n\nMust it be acknowledged? The invalid had but little faith. Her mother\ndared not hope. Her father alone had that tranquil faith which the\nkind powers of heaven never resist.\n\nAll said the prayers together in M. Moreau's room, before an image of\nthe Blessed Virgin. The mother and her two daughters rose one after\nanother to retire, but the father remained on his knees.\n\nHe thought he was alone, and his voice broke forth with a fervor\nwhich recalled his family, who have given us the account, and who\nnever can forget that solemn moment without a tremor.\n\n\"Blessed Virgin!\" said the father--\"most blessed Virgin Mary! you\nmust cure my child. Yes, indeed, you are _bound_ to do it. It is an\nobligation which you cannot refuse to acknowledge. Remember, O Mary!\nhow, in spite of everybody and against everybody, I chose you for her\npatron. Remember what struggles I had to give her your sacred name.\nCan you, Holy Virgin, forget all this? Can you forget how I defended\nyour glory and power against the vain reasons with which they\nsurrounded me? Can you forget that I publicly placed this child under\nyour protection, telling everybody and repeating that your name would\nsome day bring a blessing upon her? Can you be unmindful of all this?\nAre you not bound in honor--now that I am in misfortune, now when I\npray you for our child and yours--to come to our help and heal her\nmalady? Are you going to allow her to become blind, after the faith I\nhave shown in you? No! no! impossible! You will cure her.\"\n\nSuch were the sentiments which escaped in loud tones from the unhappy\nfather, as he appealed to the Blessed Virgin, and, as it were,\npresenting a claim against her, demanded payment.\n\nIt was ten o'clock at night.\n\nThe young girl, before retiring, dipped a linen bandage in the water\nof Lourdes, and, placing it upon her eyes, tied it behind her head.\n\nHer soul was agitated. Without having her father's faith, she said\nto herself that, after all, the Blessed Virgin was perfectly able\nto cure her, and that, perhaps, at the end of the novena she might\nrecover her sight. Then doubt returned, and it seemed as if a miracle\nought not to be worked for her. With all these thoughts revolving in\nher mind, she could hardly lie still, and it was very late before she\nfell asleep.\n\nWhen morning came, as soon as she awoke, her first movement of hope\nand uneasy curiosity was to remove the bandage which covered her\neyes. She uttered a loud cry.\n\nThe room about her was filled with the light of the rising day. She\nsaw clearly, exactly, and distinctly. The diseased eye had recovered\nits health, and the eye which before was blind had been restored to\nsight.\n\n\"Marthe! Marthe!\" she cried, \"I see perfectly. I am cured!\"\n\nLittle Marthe, who slept in the same room, sprang out of bed and\nran to her sister. She saw her eyes, stripped of their bloody veil,\nblack and brilliant, and sparkling with life and strength. The little\ngirl's heart at once turned toward her father and mother, who had not\nyet shared in this joy.\n\n\"Papa! mamma!\" she cried.\n\nMarie beckoned her not to call them yet.\n\n\"Wait! wait!\" said she, \"until I have tried if I can read. Give me a\nbook.\"\n\nThe child took one from the table. \"There!\" said she.\n\nMarie opened the book, and read with perfect ease as freely as any\none ever has read. The cure was complete, radical, absolute, and the\nBlessed Virgin had not left her work half-done.\n\nThe father and mother hastened to the room.\n\n\"Papa, mamma, I can see--I can read--I am cured!\"\n\nHow can we describe the scene which followed? Our readers can\nunderstand it, each for himself, by entering into his own\nimagination. The door of the house had not yet been opened. The\nwindows were closed, and their transparent panes admitted only the\nearly light of morning. Who, then, could have entered to join this\nfamily in the happiness of this sudden blessing? And yet these\nChristians felt instinctively that they were not alone, and that a\npowerful being was invisibly in the midst of them. The father and\nmother, and little Marthe, fell on their knees; Marie, who had not\nyet arisen, clasped her hands; and from these four breasts, oppressed\nwith gratitude and emotion, went forth, as a prayer of thanks, the\nholy name of the Mother of God: \"O holy Virgin Mary! Our Lady of\nLourdes!\"\n\nWhat their other words were, we know not; but what their sentiments\nmust have been, any one can imagine by placing himself before this\nmiraculous event, which, like a flash from the power of God, had\nturned the affliction of a family into joy and happiness.\n\nIs it necessary to add that, shortly afterward, Mlle. Marie Moreau\nwent with her parents to thank Our Lady of Lourdes in the place of\nher apparition? She left her colored dresses upon the altar, and went\naway happy and proud of wearing the colors of the Queen of virgins.\n\nM. Moreau, whose faith had formerly been so strong, was wholly\nstupefied. \"I thought,\" said he, \"that such favors were only granted\nto the saints; how is it, then, that they descend upon miserable\nsinners like us?\"\n\nThese facts were witnessed by the entire population of Tartas, who\nshared in the affliction of one of their most respected families.\nEverybody in the city saw and can testify that the malady, which had\nbeen considered desperate, was completely healed at the beginning\nof the novena. The superior of the Convent of the Sacred Heart at\nBordeaux, the one hundred and fifty pupils who were school-mates\nof Mlle. Marie Moreau, the physicians of that institution, have\nestablished her serious condition before the events which we have\nrelated, and her total cure immediately afterward. She returned to\nBordeaux, where she remained two years to complete her studies.\n\nThe oculist Bermont could not recover from his surprise at an\nevent so entirely beyond his science. We have read his declaration\ncertifying to the state of the invalid, and acknowledging the\ninability of medical treatment to produce such a cure, \"which,\" he\nobserves, \"has persisted and still holds. As to the instantaneousness\nwith which this cure has been wrought,\" he adds, \"it is a fact which\nincomparably surpasses the power of medical science. In testimony of\nwhich I attach my signature. BERMONT.\"\n\nThis declaration, dated February 8th, 1859, is preserved at the\nbishop's residence at Tarbes, together with a great number of letters\nand testimonials from citizens of Tartas, among others that of the\nmayor of that city, M. Desbord.\n\nMlle. Marie continued to wear the colors of the Blessed Virgin up to\nthe day of her marriage, which took place after she had finished her\nstudies and left the Sacred Heart. On that day she went to Lourdes\nand laid aside her maiden attire to put on her bridal robes. She\nwished to give this dress of blue and white to another young girl,\nalso beloved by the Blessed Virgin, Bernadette.\n\nThis was the only present which Bernadette ever accepted. She wore\nfor several years, indeed until it was worn out, this dress which\nrecalled the loving power of the divine apparition at the grotto.\n\nEleven years have since elapsed. The favor accorded by the Blessed\nVirgin has not been withdrawn. Mlle. Moreau has always had most\nexcellent and perfect sight; never any relapse, never the slightest\nindisposition.\n\nExcepting by suicide, ingratitude, or abuse of grace, that which God\nhas restored can never die. _Resurgens jam non moritur._\n\nMlle. Marie Moreau is now called Madame d'Izaru de Villefort, and is\nthe mother of three delightful children, who have the finest eyes in\nthe world. Although they are boys, each bears in his baptismal name\nfirst the name of Mary.\n\n\nVI.\n\nMiraculous cures were counted by hundreds. It was impossible to\nverify them all. The episcopal commission submitted thirty of them\nto most rigorous scrutiny. The most severe strictness was shown in\nthis examination, and nothing was admitted as supernatural, until it\nwas absolutely impossible to call it anything else. All cures which\nhad not been almost instantaneous, or which had been occupied by\nsuccessive stages, all these were rejected; as also were all which\nhad been obtained in conjunction with medical treatment, however\nunavailing the latter might have been. \"Although the inefficacy\nof the remedies prescribed by science has been sufficiently\ndemonstrated, we cannot in this case in an exclusive manner attribute\nthe cure to a supernatural virtue in the water of the grotto which\nwas used at the same time.\" So runs the report of the secretary of\nthe commission.\n\nMoreover, numerous spiritual favors, singular graces, unlooked-for\nconversions, had been reported to the commission. It is difficult to\nestablish juridically events which have taken place in the closed\nrecesses of the human soul and which escape the observation of all\nwithout. Although such facts, such changes, are often more wonderful\nthan the restoration of a member or the healing of a physical\ndisease, the commission judged rightly when it decided that it ought\nnot to include them in the solemn and public inquiry with which it\nhad been charged by the bishop.\n\nIn the report to his grace, the committee, by agreement with\nthe physicians, divided the cures which had been examined into\nthree categories, with all the carefully gathered details and\n_proc\u00e8s-verbaux_, signed by the persons cured and by numerous\nwitnesses.\n\nThe first category included those cures which, despite their\nstriking and astonishing appearance, were susceptible of a natural\nexplanation. These were six in number; namely, those of Jeanne-Marie\nArqu\u00e9, the widow Crozat, Blaise Maumus, a child of the Lasbareilles\nof Gez, Jeanne Crassus, Arcizan-Avant, Jeanne Pomi\u00e8s of Loubajac.\n\nThe second list comprised cures which the commission felt inclined to\nattribute a supernatural character. Of this number were Jean-Pierre\nMalou, Jeanne-Marie Dauber, wife of a certain Vend\u00f4me, Bernarde\nSoubies and Pauline Bordeaux of Lourdes, Jean-Marie Amar\u00e9 of\nBeaucens, Marcelle Peyregue of Agos, Jeanne-Marie Massot Bordenave\nof Arras, Jeanne Gezma and Auguste Bordes of Pontacq. \"The greater\nnumber of these facts,\" says the medical report, \"possess all the\nconditions to cause them be admitted as supernatural. It will,\nperhaps, be found that in excluding them we have acted with too much\nreserve and scrupulousness.\n\n\"But far from complaining of this reproach, we shall congratulate\nourselves upon it, since in these matters we are convinced that\nprudence demands severity.\"\n\nUnder such circumstances, a natural explanation, although in\nitself utterly improbable, seemed rigorously possible, and this was\nsufficient to prevent the examiners from declaring a miracle.\n\nThe third class contained cures which presented an undeniable\nand evident supernatural character, fifteen in number. Those of:\nBlaisette Soupenne, Benoite Cazeaux, Jeanne Grassus married to\nCrozat, Louis Bourriette, little Justin Bouhohorts, Fabian and\nSuzanne Baron of Lourdes, Madame Rizanand, Henry Busquet of Nay,\nCatherine Latapie of Loubajac, Madame Lanou of Bord\u00e8res, Marianne\nGarrot and Denys Bouchet of Lamarque, Jean-Marie Tambourn\u00e9 of St.\nJustin, Mlle. Marie Moreau de Sazenay of Tartas, Paschaline Abbadie\nof Rabasteins, all these were incontestably miraculous.\n\n\"The maladies to which those favored by such sudden and startling\ncures were subject were of entirely different natures\"--we quote from\nthe report of the commission. \"They possessed the greatest variety\nof character. Some were the subjects of external, others of internal\npathology. Nevertheless, these various diseases were all cured by a\nsingle simple element, used either as a lotion or drink, or sometimes\nin both ways.\n\n\"In the natural and scientific order, furthermore, each remedy is\nused in a fixed and regular manner; it has its special virtue proper\nto a given malady, but is either inefficacious or hurtful in other\ncases.\n\n\"It is not, then, by any property inherent in its composition that\nthe Massabielle water has been able to produce such numerous,\ndiverse, and extraordinary cures, and to extinguish at once diseases\nof different and opposite characters. Furthermore, science has\nauthoritatively declared, after analysis, that this water has no\nmineral or therapeutic qualities, and chemically does not differ\nfrom other pure waters. Medical science, having been consulted, after\nmature and conscientious examination, is not less decisive in its\nconclusions.\"\n\n\"In glancing at the general appearance of these cures,\" says the\nmedical report, \"one cannot fail to be struck by the ease, the\npromptitude, and instantaneous rapidity with which they spring\nfrom their producing cause; from the violation and overthrow\nof all therapeutic laws and methods which takes place in their\naccomplishment; from the contradictions offered by them to all\nthe accepted axioms and cautions of science; from that kind of\ndisdain which sports with the chronic nature and long resistance of\nthe disease; from the concealed but real care with which all the\ncircumstances are arranged and combined: everything, in short, shows\nthat the cures wrought belong to an order apart from the habitual\ncourse of nature.\n\n\"Such phenomena surpass the limits of the human intellect. How,\nindeed, can it comprehend the opposition which exists:\n\n\"Between the simplicity of the means and the greatness of the result?\n\n\"Between the unity of the remedy and the variety of the diseases?\n\n\"Between the short time employed in the use of this remedy and the\nlengthy treatment indicated by science?\n\n\"Between the sudden efficacy of the former and the long-acknowledged\ninutility of the latter?\n\n\"Between the chronic nature of the diseases and the instantaneous\ncharacter of the cure?\n\n\"There is in all this a contingent force, superior to any that spring\nfrom natural causes, and, consequently, foreign to the water of which\nit has made use to show forth its power?\"\n\nIn view of so many carefully-collected and publicly-certified facts,\nso striking in their nature; in view, moreover, of the conscientious\nand thorough inquiry made by the commission, together with the formal\nand united declarations of medicine and chemistry, the bishop could\nno longer remain unconvinced.\n\nNevertheless, on account of that spirit of extreme prudence which we\nhave before remarked, Monseigneur Laurence, before giving the solemn\nepiscopal verdict in this matter, demanded a still further guaranty\nof these miraculous cures--the proof of time. He allowed three years\nto pass. A second examination was then made. The miraculous cures\nstill held good. No one appeared to retract former testimony or to\ncontest any of the facts. The works of him who rules over eternity\nhad nothing to fear from the test of time.\n\nAfter this overwhelming series of proofs and certainty, Monseigneur\nLaurence at length pronounced the judgment which all had been\nawaiting. We give below its general features.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[155] \"All the circumstances connected with this fact,\" says the\nreport of the physicians, \"stamp it with a supernatural character.\nIt is impossible to escape from this conviction, if one considers,\non one hand, the chronic nature of the complaint which began in\n1834; the force of its engendering cause, namely, the cholera; the\npermanence of some of its symptoms in a most important organ of life,\nthe stomach; the fruitlessness of remedies applied by a competent\nphysician, M. Subervielle, the gradual prostration of strength,\nfollowed inevitably by dyspepsia, and the enervation resulting from\ncontinual pain; and, on the other hand, if one will couple with\nthese circumstances the effect produced by natural water, only once\napplied, and the instantaneous character of the result.\"\n\n\n\n\nP\u00c8RE JACQUES AND MADEMOISELLE ADRIENNE.\n\nA SKETCH AFTER THE BLOCUS.\n\n\nIt was just five months since I had left it, the bright, proud\nBabylon, beautiful and brave and wicked, clothed in scarlet and\nfeasting sumptuously. King Chanticleer, strutting on the Boulevards,\nwas crowing loudly, and the myriad tribe of the Coq Gaulois,\nstrutting up and down the city, crowed loud and shrill in responsive\nchorus--petits cr\u00e9v\u00e9s, and petits mouchards, and petits gamins, and\nall that was _petit_ in that grand, foolish cityful of humanity.\nBedlam was abroad, singing and crowing and barking itself rabid, and\nscaring away from Babylon all that was not bedlam. But there were\nmany in Babylon who were not afraid of the bedlam, who believed that\ncrowing would by-and-by translate itself into action, into those\nseeds of desperate daring that none but madmen can accomplish, and\nthat, when the bugle sounded, these bragging, swaggering maniacs\nwould shoulder the musket, and, rushing to the fore, save France or\ndie for her. No one saved her, but many did rush to the fore, and\ndie for her. They were not lunatics, though, at least not many of\nthem. The lunatics showed, as they have often done before, that there\nwas method in their madness. They cheered on the sane, phlegmatic\nbrethren to death and glory, while they stayed prudently at home to\nkeep up the spirits of the capital; they were the spirit and soul of\nthe defence, the others were but the bone and muscle of it. What is\na body without a soul? The frail arm of the flesh without the nerve\nand strength of the spirit? Pshaw! If it were not for the crowing of\nKing Chanticleer, there would have been no siege at all; the whole\nconcern would have collapsed in its cradle.\n\nThe story of that Blocus has yet to be written. Of its outward and\nvisible story, many volumes, and scores of volumes, good and bad,\ntrue and false, have been already written. But the inward story,\nthe arcana of the defence, the exposition of that huge, blundering\nmachine that, with its springs and levers, and wheels within wheels,\nsnapped and broke and collapsed in the driver's hand, all this is\nstill untold. The great _Pourquoi?_ is still unanswered. History will\nsolve the riddle some day, no doubt, as it solves most riddles, but\nbefore that time comes, other, grander problems of greater import to\nus will have been solved too, and we shall care but little for the\ntrue story of the Blocus.\n\n\"Yes, monsieur,\" said my concierge, when we met and talked over the\nevents that had passed since the first of September, when I fled and\nleft my goods and chattels to her care and the tender mercies of the\nPrussians and the Reds--\"yes, monsieur, it is very wonderful that one\ndoesn't hear of anybody having died of cold, though the winter was\nso terrible, and the fuel so scarce. It ran short almost from the\nbeginning. We had nothing but green sticks that couldn't be persuaded\nto burn and do our best. I used to sit shivering in my bed, while\nthe petiots tried to warm themselves skipping in the porte-coch\u00e8re,\nor running up and down from the _cinti\u00e8me_ till their little legs\nwere dead beat. O Mon Dieu! je me rapellerai de cette guerre en tous\nles sens, monsieur.\"\n\n\"Did many die from starvation,\" I asked--\"many in this neighborhood\nthat you knew?\"\n\n\"Not one, monsieur! Not one of actual hunger, though my belief is,\nplenty of folks died of poison. The bread we ate was worse than\nthe want of it. Such an abomination, made out of hay and bran and\noats; why, monsieur, a chiffonier's dog wouldn't have touched it in\nChristian times. How it kept body and soul together for any of us is\nmore than I can understand.\"\n\n\"And yet nobody died of want?\" I repeated.\n\n\"Not that I heard of, monsieur; unless you count P\u00e8re Jacques as dead\nfrom starvation. He disappeared one morning soon after he told Mlle.\nAdrienne, and nobody ever knew what became of him. They said in the\nquartier that he went over to the Prussians; but they said that of\nbetter men than P\u00e8re Jacques, and besides, what would the Prussians\ndo with a poor old _toqu\u00e9_ like P\u00e8re Jacques, I ask it of monsieur?\"\n\nI was going to say that I fully agreed with her, when we were both\nstartled by a sudden uproar in the street round the corner. We rushed\nout simultaneously from the porte-coch\u00e8re, where we were holding our\nconfabulation, to see what was the matter. A crowd was collected\nin the middle of the Rue Billault, and was vociferously cheering\nsomebody or something. As a matter of course, the assembly being\nFrench, there were counter-cheers; hisses and cries of \"ren\u00e9gat!\nVendu aux Prussiens! dr\u00f4le,\" etc., intermingling with more friendly\nexclamations.\n\n\"Bon Dieu! ce n'est done pas fini! Is the war going to begin again?\nAre we going to have a revolution?\" demanded my concierge, throwing\nup her hands to heaven and then wringing them in despair. \"Will the\npetiots never be able to eat their panade and build their little\nmud-pies in peace! Oh! monsieur, monsieur, you are happy not to be a\nFrenchman!\"\n\nWithout in the least degree demurring to this last proposition, I\nsuggested that before giving up France as an utterly hopeless case,\nwe would do well to see what the row was about; if indeed it were a\nrow, for the cheering, as the crowd grew, seemed to rise predominant\nabove the hissing. Already reassured, I advanced boldly toward the\ncentre of disturbance, my concierge following, and keeping a tight\ngrip of the skirts of my coat for greater security.\n\n\"Vive Mlle. Adrienne! Donne la patte Mlle. Adrienne! Vive le P\u00e8re\nJacques!\" The cries, capped by peals of laughter which were suddenly\ndrowned in the uproarious braying of a donkey, reverberated through\nthe street and deafened us as we drew near.\n\nWith a shout of laughter, my concierge dropped my skirts, and\nclapping her hands:\n\n\"Comment!\" she cried, \"she is alive, then! He did not eat her! He did\nnot sell her! Vive le P\u00e8re Jacques! Vive Mlle. Adrienne!\"\n\nThose of my readers who have lived any time in the quartier of the\nChamps Elys\u00e9es will recognize Mlle. Adrienne as an old friend, and\nrejoice to learn that, thanks to the intelligent devotion of P\u00e8re\nJacques, she did not share the fate of her asinine sisterhood, but\nhas actually gone through the horrors of the siege of Paris and\nlived to tell the tale. Those who have not the pleasure of her\nacquaintance will perhaps be glad to make it, and to hear something\nof so remarkable a personage.\n\nFor years--I am afraid to say how many, but ten is certainly within\nthe mark--P\u00e8re Jacques's donkey has been a familiar object in the\nRue Billault and the Rue de Berri, and that part of the Faubourg St.\nHonor\u00e9 and the Champs Elys\u00e9es which includes those streets. Why P\u00e8re\nJacques christened his ass Mlle. Adrienne nobody knows. Some say,\nout of vengeance against a certain blue-eyed Adrienne who won his\nheart and broke it; others say, only love for a faithful Adrienne who\nbroke his heart by dying; but this is pure conjecture; P\u00e8re Jacques\nhimself is reticent on the subject, and, when questioned once by a\ncurious, impertinent man, he refused to explain himself further than\nby remarking, \"Que chacun avait son id\u00e9e, et que son id\u00e9e \u00e0 lui,\nc'etait Mlle. Adrienne,\" and having said this he took a lump of sugar\nfrom his pocket and presented it affectionately to his _id\u00e9e_, who\nmunched it with evident satisfaction, and acknowledged her sense of\nthe attention by a long and uproarious bray.\n\n\"Voyons, Mlle. Adrienne! Calmons-nous!\" said P\u00e8re Jacques in a tone\nof persuasive authority. \"Calmons-nous, ma ch\u00e9rie!\"--the braying grew\nlouder and louder--\"wilt thou be silent? Upl\u00e0, Mlle. Adrienne! Ah,\nles femmes, les femmes! Toujours bavardes! La-a-a-\u00e0, Mlle. Adrienne!\"\n\nThis was the usual style of conversation between the two. P\u00e8re\nJacques presented lumps of sugar which were invariably recognized\nby a bray, or, more properly, a series of brays, such as no other\ndonkey in France or Navarre but herself could send forth; and while\nit lasted P\u00e8re Jacques kept up a running commentary of remonstrance.\n\n\"Voyons, Mlle. Adrienne! Sapristi, veux-tu te taire? A-t-on jamais\nvu! Lotte, veux-tu en fini-i-i-r!\"\n\nThough it was an old novelty in the quartier, it seemed never to have\nlost its savor, and as soon as P\u00e8re Jacques and his little cart, full\nof apples, or oranges, or cauliflowers, as the case might be, were\nseen or heard at the further end of the street, the gamins left off\nmarbles and pitch-and-toss to bully and chaff P\u00e8re Jacques and greet\nhis _id\u00e9e_ with a jocular \"Bonjour, Mlle. Adrienne.\" The tradesmen\nlooked up from their weights and measures, laughing, as the pair went\nby.\n\nWhen provisions began to run short during the Blocus, P\u00e8re Jacques\ngrew uneasy, not for himself, but for Mlle. Adrienne. Hard-hearted\njesters advised him to fatten her up for the market; ass-flesh was\ndelicate and rarer than horse-flesh, and fetched six francs a pound;\nit was no small matter to turn six francs in these famine times, when\nthere were no more apples or cauliflowers to sell; Mlle. Adrienne was\na burden now instead of a help to her master; the little cart stood\nidle in the corner; there was nothing to trundle, and it was breaking\nhis heart to see her growing thin for want of rations, and to watch\nher spirits drooping for want of exercise and lumps of sugar. For\nmore than a fortnight P\u00e8re Jacques deprived himself of a morsel of\nthe favorite dainty, and doled out his last demikilog to her with\nmiserly economy, hoping always that the gates would be opened before\nshe came to the last lump.\n\n\"Voyons, ma fille!\" P\u00e8re Jacques would say, as she munched a bit half\nthe usual size of the now precious bonbon. \"Cheer up, ma bouriquette!\nBe reasonable, Mlle. Adrienne, be reasonable, and bear thy trials\nlike an ass, patiently and bravely, not like a man, grumbling and\ndespairing. Paperlotte, Mlle. Adrienne! if it were not for thee\nI should be out on the ramparts, and send those coquins to the\nright-abouts myself. Les gredins! they are not content with drilling\nour soldiers and starving our citizens, but they must rob thee of\nthy bit of sugar, my pretty one. Mille tonnerres! if I had but their\nnecks under my arm for one squeeze!\"\n\nAnd, entering into the grief and indignation of her master, Mlle.\nAdrienne would set up an agonized bray.\n\nThus comforting one another, the pair bore up through their trials.\nBut at last came the days of eating mice and rats, and bread that\na dog in good circumstances would have turned up its nose at a\nmonth ago, and then P\u00e8re Jacques shook in his sabots. He dared not\nshow himself abroad with Mlle. Adrienne, and not only that, but he\nlived in chronic terror of a raid being made on her at home. The\nmischievous urchins who had amused themselves at the expense of his\npaternal feelings in days of comparative plenty, gave him no peace\nor rest now that the wolf was really at the door. Requisitions were\nbeing made in private houses to see that no stores were hoarded up\nwhile the people outside were famishing. One rich family, who had\nprudently bought a couple of cows at the beginning of the Blocus,\nafter vainly endeavoring to keep the fact a secret, and surrounding\nthe precious beasts with as much mystery and care as ever Egyptian\nworshippers bestowed on the sacred Isis, were forced to give them up\nto the commonwealth. This caused a great sensation in the quartier.\nP\u00e8re Jacques was the first to hear it, and the _gamins_ improved\nthe opportunity by declaring to him that the republic had issued a\ndecree that all asses were to be seized next day, all such as could\nnot speak, they added facetiously, and there was to be a general\nslaughter of them, a _massacre des innocents_, the little brutes\ncalled it, at the abattoir of the Rue Valois. The fact of its being\nat the Rue Valois was a small mercy for which they reminded P\u00e8re\nJacques to be duly grateful, inasmuch as, it being close at hand,\nhe might accompany Mlle. Adrienne to the place of execution, give\nher a parting kiss, and hear her last bray of adieu. At this cynical\nclimax, P\u00e8re Jacques started up in a rage, and seizing his stick, set\nto vigorously belaboring the diabolical young torturers, who took to\ntheir heels, yelling and screaming like frightened guinea-pigs, while\nMlle. Adrienne, who stood ruminating in a corner of the room, opened\na rattling volley of brays on the fugitives.\n\nAll that night P\u00e8re Jacques lay awake in terror. Every whistle of\nthe wind, every creak in the door, every stir and sound, set his\nheart thumping violently against his ribs; every moment he was\nexpecting the dreaded domiciliary visit. What was he to do? Where\nwas he to fly? How was he to cheat the brigands and save Mlle.\nAdrienne? The night wore out, and the dawn broke, and the raid was\nstill unaccomplished. As soon as it was light, P\u00e8re Jacques rose\nand dressed himself, and sat down on a wooden stool close by Mlle.\nAdrienne, and pondered. Since her life had been in jeopardy, he had\nremoved her from her out-house in the court to his own private room\non the ground-floor close by.\n\n\"Que me conseilles-tu, Mlle. Adrienne?\" murmured the distracted\nparent, speaking in a low tone, impelled by the instinct that drives\nhuman beings to seek sympathy somewhere, from a cat or a dog if they\nhave no fellow-creature to appeal to, P\u00e8re Jacques had contracted a\nhabit of talking out loud to his dumb companion when they were alone,\nand consulting her on any perplexing point. Suddenly a bright idea\nstruck P\u00e8re Jacques; he would go and consult M\u00e8re Richard.\n\nM\u00e8re Richard lived in a neighboring court amidst a numerous family of\nbirds of many species, bullfinches, canaries, and linnets. She had\noften suggested to P\u00e8re Jacques to adopt a little songster by way\nof cheering his lonely den, and had once offered him a young German\ncanary of her own bringing up.\n\n\"It's as good as a baby for tricks and company, and nothing so dear\nto keep,\" urged M\u00e8re Richard.\n\nBut P\u00e8re Jacques had gratefully declined. \"Mlle. Adrienne is company\nenough for me,\" he said, \"and it might hurt her feelings if I took up\nwith a bird now, thanks to you all the same, voisine.\"\n\nTo-day, as he neared the house, he looked in vain for the red and\ngreen cages that used to hang out au troisi\u00e8me on either side of M\u00e8re\nRichard's windows. The birds were gone. Where? P\u00e8re Jacques felt a\nsympathetic thrill of horror, and with a heavy heart mounted the\ndark little stairs, no longer merry with the sound of chirping from\nthe tidy little room au troisi\u00e8me. He refrained, through delicate\nconsideration for M\u00e8re Richard's feelings, from asking questions,\nbut, casting his eyes round the room, he beheld the empty cages\nranged in a row behind the door.\n\nBut M\u00e8re Richard had a donkey. There was no comparison to be\ntolerated for a moment between it and Mlle. Adrienne, still their\npositions were identical, and M\u00e8re Richard, who was a wise woman,\nwould help him in his present difficulty, and if she could not help\nhim she would, at any rate, sympathize with him, which was the next\nbest thing to helping him. But M\u00e8re Richard, to his surprise, had\nheard nothing of the impending raid on donkeys. When he explained to\nher how the case stood, instead of breaking out into lamentations,\nshe burst into a chuckling laugh.\n\n\"Pas possible! Bouriquette good to be eaten, and the republic going\nto buy her, and pay me six francs a pound for her! P\u00e8re Jaques, it's\ntoo good to be true,\" declared the unnatural old Harpagon.\n\nP\u00e8re Jacques was unable to contain his indignation. He vowed that\nrather than let her fall into the hands of the cannibals, he would\ndestroy Mlle. Adrienne with his own hand; he would kill any man in\nthe republic, from Favre to Gambetta, who dared to lay a finger on\nher; aye, that he would, if he were to swing for it the next hour!\n\n\"P\u00e8re Jacques, you are an imbecile,\" observed M\u00e8re Richard, taking a\npinch of snuff; \"you remind me of a story my bonhomme used to tell of\ntwo camarades of his that he met on their way to be hanged; one of\nthem didn't mind it, and walked on quietly, holding his tongue; but\nthe other didn't like it at all, and kept howling and whining, and\nmaking a tapage de diable. At last the quiet one lost patience, and\nturning round on the other, 'Eh grand b\u00e9tat,' he cried, 'si tu n'en\nveux pas, n'en d\u00e9goute pas les autres!'\"\n\nP\u00e8re Jaques saw the point of the story, and, taking the hint, stood\nup to go.\n\n\"What did you do with the birds?\" he demanded sternly, as he was\nleaving the room.\n\n\"Sold four of them for three francs apiece, and ate three of them,\nand uncommonly good they were,\" said the wretched woman, with\nunblushing heartlessness.\n\n\"Monster!\" groaned P\u00e8re Jacques, and hurried from her presence.\n\nAll that day he and Mlle. Adrienne stayed at home with their door\nand window barred and bolted; but night came, and the domiciliary\nvisit was still a threat. Next day, however, the little door stood\nopen as usual, and P\u00e8re Jacques was to be seen hammering away at the\ndilapidated legs of a table that he was mending for a neighbor at\nthe rate of twenty-five centimes a leg; but Mlle. Adrienne was not\nthere. Had P\u00e8re Jacques put an end to his agony by actually killing\nher, as he had threatened, and so saved her from the ignoble fate\nof the shambles? Or had he, haunted by the phantom of hunger which\nwas now staring at him with its pale spectral eyes from the near\nbackground, yielded to the old man's love of life, and sold his\nfriend to prolong it and escape himself from a ghastly death? Most\npeople believed the latter alternative, but nobody knew for certain.\nWhen Mlle. Adrienne's name was mentioned, P\u00e8re Jacques would frown,\nand give unmistakable signs of displeasure. If the subject was\npressed, he would seize his stick, and, making a _moulinet_ over his\nhead with it, prepare an expletive that the boldest never waited to\nreceive. One day he was caught crying bitterly in his now solitary\nhome, and muttering to himself between the sobs, \"Ma pauvre fille!\nMlle. Adrienne! Je le suivrai bient\u00f4t--ah les coquins, les brigands,\nles monstres!\" This was looked upon as conclusive. The monsters in\nquestion could only be the Shylocks of the abattoir who had tempted\nhim with blood-money for Mlle. Adrienne. When curiosity was thus\nfar satisfied, the gamins ceased to worry P\u00e8re Jacques; the lonely\nold man became an object of pity to everybody, even to the gamins\nthemselves; when they met him now they touched their caps, with\n\"Bonjour, P\u00e8re Jacques!\" and spared him the cruel jeer that had been\ntheir customary salutation of late: \"Mlle. Adrienne \u00e0 la casserole!\nBon app\u00e9tit, P\u00e8re Jacques!\"\n\nThe days wore on, and the weeks, and the months. Paris, wan and pale\nand hunger-stricken, still held out. Winter had come, and thrown\nits icy pall upon the city, hiding her guilty front \"under innocent\nsnow;\" the nights were long and cold, the dawn was desolate, the\ntepid noon brought no warmth to the perishing, fire-bound multitude.\nNo sign of succor came to them from without. In vain they watched and\nwaited, persecuting time with hope. The cannon kept up its sobbing\nrecitative through the black silence of the night; through the white\nstillness of the day. Hunger gnawed into their vitals, till even\nhope, weary with disappointment, grew sick and died.\n\nOne morning, the neighbors noticed P\u00e8re Jacques's door and window\nclosed long after the hour when he was wont to be up and busy. They\nknocked, and, getting no answer, turned the handle of the door; it\nwas neither locked nor barred, merely closed, as if the master were\nwithin; but he was not; the little room was tenantless, and almost\nentirely stripped; the mattress and the scanty store of bed-clothes\nwere gone; the iron bedstead, a table, a stool, and two cane chairs,\nwere the only sticks of furniture that remained; the shelves were\nbare of the bright pewter tankards and platters that used to adorn\nthem; the gilt clock with its abortion of a Pegasus bestrid by\na grenadier, which had been the glory of the chimney-piece, had\ndisappeared. What did it all mean? Had the enemy made a raid on\nP\u00e8re Jacques and his property during the night, and carried away the\nlot in a balloon? Great was the consternation, and greater still the\ngossip of the little community, when the mysterious event became\nknown through the quartier. What had become of P\u00e8re Jacques? Had he\nbeen kidnapped, or had he been murdered, or had he taken flight of\nhis own accord, and whither, and why? Nothing transpired to throw any\nlight on the mystery, and the gossips, tired of guessing, soon ceased\nto think about it, and, like many another nine days' wonder, P\u00e8re\nJacques's disappearance died a natural death.\n\nA day came at last when the mitrailleuse hushed its hideous shriek,\nthe cannon left off booming, the wild beasts of war were silent.\nParis cried, \"Merci!\" and the gates were opened. The city, like a\nsick man healed of a palsy, rose up, and shook herself and rubbed\nher eyes, and ate plentifully after her long fast. Many came back\nfrom the outposts who were wept over as dead. There were strange\nmeetings in many quartiers during those first days that followed\nthe capitulation. But no one brought any news of P\u00e8re Jacques.\nThere were too many interests nearer and dearer to think of, and,\nin the universal excitement of shame and vengeance and rare flashes\nof joy, he and Mlle. Adrienne were forgotten as if they had never\nbeen. But when, on the day of my return to Paris, my conversation\nwith my concierge was interrupted by the cheering of the crowd in\nthe Rue Billault, and when the cause of the hubbub was made known,\nthe fact that both P\u00e8re Jacques and his _id\u00e9e_ were well remembered\nand, as the newspapers put it, universally esteemed by a large circle\nof friends and admirers, was most emphatically attested. Nothing,\nindeed, could be more gratifying than the manner in which their\nresurrection was received. The pair looked very much the worse for\ntheir sojourn in the other world, wherever it was, to which they had\nemigrated. Mlle. Adrienne's appearance was particularly affecting.\nShe was worn to skin and bone; and certainly, if P\u00e8re Jacques,\nyielding to the pangs of hunger, had sacrificed his _id\u00e9e_ to his\nlife, and taken her to the shambles, she would not have fetched more\nthan a brace of good rats, or, at best, some ten francs, from the\ninhuman butchers of the Rue Valois. She dragged her legs, and shook\nand stumbled as if the weight of her attenuated person were too much\nfor them. Even her old enemies, the gamins, were moved to pity, while\nP\u00e8re Jacques, laughing and crying and apostrophizing Mlle. Adrienne\nin his old familiar way, cheered her on to their old home. How she\never got there is as great a marvel as how she lived to be led there\nto-day; for, what between physical exhaustion and mental anxiety--for\nthe crowd kept overpowering her with questions and caresses--and what\nbetween the well-meant but injudicious attentions of sundry little\nboys who kept stuffing unintermitting bits of straw and lumps of\nsugar into her mouth, it is little short of a miracle that she did\nnot choke and expire on the macadam of the Rue Billault.\n\nMany an ass has been lionized before, and many a one will be so\nagain. It is a common enough sight in these days, but never did hero\nor heroine of the tribe bear herself more becomingly on the trying\noccasion than Mlle. Adrienne. As to P\u00e8re Jacques, he bore himself\nas well as he could, trying hard to look dignified and unconscious,\nwhile in his inmost heart he was bursting with pride. While he and\nMlle. Adrienne ambled on side by side, some facetious person remarked\nthat P\u00e8re Jacques looked quite beside himself. This, indeed, was a\ngreat day for him and his ass. Yet, notwithstanding that his heart\nwas moved within him and softened towards all men--nay, towards all\nboys--he could not be induced to say a word as to where he had been,\nor what he had done, or how he and Mlle. Adrienne had fared in the\nwilderness, or what manner of wilderness it was, or anything that\ncould furnish the remotest clue to their existence since the day when\nthey had separately disappeared off the horizon of the Rue Billault.\nProvisions were still too dear, during the first fortnight after the\ncapitulation, to allow of P\u00e8re Jacques resuming his old trade of\napples or cauliflowers; besides, Mademoiselle Adrienne wanted rest.\n\n\"Pauvre ch\u00e9rie! il faut qu'elle se remette un peu de la vache\nenrag\u00e9e,\" he remarked tenderly, when his friends condoled with him on\nher forced inactivity. He would not hear of hiring her out for work,\nas some of them proposed. M\u00e8re Richard came and offered a fabulous\nprice for the loan of her for three days, with a view to a stroke\nof business at the railway station, where food was pouring in from\nLondon. P\u00e8re Jacques shook his fist at the carnivorous old woman, and\nwarned her never to show her unnatural old face in his house again,\nor it might be worse for her.\n\n\n\n\nA PIE IX.\n\n\n      Le Verbe cr\u00e9ateur en paraissant sur terre\n      Erigea son \u00e9glise, auguste monument.\n      Il appela Simon du fameux nom de Pierre\n      Et de son \u00e9difice en fit le fondement:\n\n      Des volont\u00e9s du Christ sacr\u00e9 d\u00e9positaire,\n      Interpr\u00e8te et gardien du dernier Testament\n      Pie inspir\u00e9 d'en haut et par l'\u00e9glise enti\u00e8re\n      En ach\u00e8ve le d\u00f4me et le couronnement.\n\n      Pie obtient en ce jour (glorieux privil\u00e9ge!)\n      De r\u00e9gner a l'\u00e9gal du chef du saint coll\u00e9ge.\n\n      Des droits de l'Eternal et de l'humanit\u00e9\n      Contre l'erreur du jour d\u00e9fenseur intr\u00e9pide,\n      Calme au sein des p\u00e9rils, d'une main s\u00fbre il guide\n      La barque de C\u00e9phas au port de V\u00e9rit\u00e9.\n\nNEW YORK, June 17, 1871.\n\n\n\n\nTHE SECULAR NOT SUPREME.[156]\n\n\nDr. Bellows is the well-known pastor of All Souls' Church, and\neditor of the _Liberal Christian_ in this city, a distinguished\nUnitarian minister, with some religious instincts and respectable\nliterary pretensions. As a student in college and the Divinity\nSchool, Cambridge, Massachusetts, he was full of promise, and a\ngreat favorite of the late Hon. Edward Everett, himself originally\na Unitarian minister and pastor of Brattle Street Church, Boston.\nThe Hon. E. P. Hurlbut was formerly one of the judges of the Supreme\nCourt of this state, a lawyer by profession, with a passably clear\nhead and a logical mind, who knows, if not the truth, at least what\nhe means, and neither fears nor hesitates to say it. His pamphlet,\nas far as it goes, expresses, we doubt not, his honest thought, but\nhis thought is the thought of a secularist, who admits no order above\nthe secular, and holds that no religion not subordinate to and under\nthe control of the civil power, should be tolerated. Both he and Dr.\nBellows are from instinct and education hearty haters of the Catholic\nChurch; but while he is content to war against her from the point\nof view of pure secularism or no-religion, that is, atheism, the\nreverend doctor seeks to clothe his hatred in a Christian garb and to\nwar against Christ in the name of Christ.\n\nDr. Bellows, as a Liberal Christian, and though a Protestant\nhardly allowed by his more rigid Protestant countrymen to bear the\nChristian name, has a double battle to fight: one, against the\nEvangelical movement, at the head of which is Mr. Justice Strong, of\nthe Supreme Court, to amend the constitution of the United States\nso as to make orthodox Protestantism the official religion of the\nrepublic, which would exclude him and his Unitarian, Universalist,\nand Quaker brethren; and the other, against the admission of the\nequal rights of Catholics with Protestants before the American state.\nCatholics greatly trouble him, and he hardly knows what to do with\nthem. According to the letter of the constitution of the Union and\nof the several states, unless New Hampshire be an exception, they\nare American citizens, standing in all respects on a footing of\nperfect equality with any other class of citizens, and have as much\nright to take part in public affairs, and to seek to manage them\nin the interests of their religion, as Protestants have to take\npart in them in the interests of Protestantism; but this is very\nwrong, and against the spirit of the constitution; for the nation\nis a Protestant nation, the country was originally settled by and\nbelongs to Protestantism, and Catholics ought to understand that\nthey are really here only by sufferance, that they do not in reality\nstand in relation to public questions on a footing of equality with\nProtestants, and have really no right to exert any influence in\nregard to the public policy of the country not in accordance with\nthe convictions of the Protestant majority. He tells us, in the\ndiscourse before us and more distinctly still in the columns of the\n_Liberal Christian_, not to aspire as citizens to equality with\nProtestants as if we had as much right to the government as they\nhave, and warns us that if we do we shall be resisted even unto blood.\n\nThe occasion of his outpouring of wrath against Catholics is that\nthey have protested against being taxed for the support of a system\nof sectarian or godless schools, to which they are forbidden in\nconscience to send their children, and have demanded as their\nright either that the tax be remitted, or that their proportion of\nthe public schools be set off to them, to be, as to education and\ndiscipline, under Catholic control. Dr. Bellows allows that the\nCatholic demand is just, and that by making it a question at the\npolls they may finally obtain it; but this is not to his mind, for\nit would defeat the pet scheme of Protestants for preventing the\ngrowth of Catholicity in the country, by detaching, through the\ninfluence of the public schools, their children from the faith of\ntheir parents. Yet as long as any religion, even the reading of the\nBible, is insisted on in the public schools, what solid argument\ncan be urged against the demand of Catholics, or what is to prevent\nCatholic citizens from making it a political question and withholding\ntheir votes from the party that refuses to respect their rights of\nconscience and to do them justice? Dr. Bellows says that we cannot\nlegally be prevented from doing so, but, if we do so, it will be\nthe worse for us; for if we carry our religion to the polls the\nProtestant people will, as they should, rise up against us and\noverwhelm us by their immense majority, perhaps even exterminate us.\n\nTo prevent the possibility of collision, the reverend doctor\nproposes a complete divorce of church and state. He proposes to\ndefeat the Evangelicals on the one hand, and the Catholics on the\nother, by separating totally religion and politics. Thus he says:\n\n    \"It is the vast importance of keeping the political\n    and the religious movements and action of the people\n    apart, and in their own independent spheres, that\n    makes wise citizens, alike on religious and on civil\n    grounds, look with alarm and jealousy on any endeavors,\n    on the part either of Protestants or Catholics, to\n    secure any special attention or support, any partial\n    or separate legislation or subsidies, from either the\n    national or the state governments. I have already told\n    you that Protestants, representing the great sects in\n    this country, are now laboring, by movable conventions,\n    to mould public opinion in a way to give finally a\n    theological character to the constitution. In a much\n    more pardonable spirit, because in accordance with\n    their historical antecedents, their hereditary temper,\n    and their ecclesiastical logic, the Roman Catholics in\n    this country are, in many states, and every great city\n    of the Union, using the tremendous power they possess\n    as the make-weight of parties, to turn the public\n    treasure in a strong current into their own channels,\n    and thus secure an illegitimate support as a religious\n    body. It is not too much to guess that more than half\n    of the ecclesiastical wealth of the Roman Catholic\n    Church in America, against the wishes and convictions\n    of a Protestant country, has been voted to it in\n    lands and grants by municipalities and legislatures\n    trading for Irish votes. The Catholic Church thus has\n    a factitious prosperity and progress. It is largely\n    sustained by Protestants--not on grounds of charity and\n    toleration, or from a sense of its usefulness (that\n    were well privately done), but from low and unworthy\n    political motives in both the great parties of the\n    country. Now that Roman Catholics themselves should\n    take advantage of their solidarity as a people and a\n    church, and of the power of their priesthood, with\n    all uninformed and some enlightened communicants, to\n    turn the political will into a machine for grinding\n    their ecclesiastical grist, is not unnatural, nor\n    wholly unpardonable. But it is fearfully dangerous\n    to them and to us. Their success--due to the sense of\n    the Protestant strength which thinks it can afford to\n    blink their machinations, or to the preoccupation of\n    the public mind with the emulative business pursuits\n    of the time, or to the confidence which the American\n    people seem to feel in the final and secure divorce of\n    church and state--their unchecked success encourages\n    them to bolder and more bold demands, and accustoms the\n    people to more careless and more perilous acquiescence\n    in their claims. The principle of authority in\n    religion, which has so many temperamental adherents in\n    all countries; the inherent love of pomp and show in\n    worship, strongest in the least educated; a natural\n    weariness of sectarian divisions, commonest among lazy\n    thinkers and stupid consciences--all these play into\n    the hands of the Romanists, and they are making hay\n    while the sun shines.\n\n    \"There are no reviews, no newspapers in this country,\n    so bold and unqualified; none so unscrupulous and\n    so intensely zealous and partisan; none so fearless\n    and outspoken as the Catholic journals. They profess\n    to despise Protestant opposition; they deride the\n    feeble tactics of other Christian sects; they are more\n    ultramontane, more Roman, more Papal, than French,\n    German, Austrian, Bavarian, Italian believers; they\n    avow their purpose to make this a Roman Catholic\n    country, and they hope to live on the Protestant enemy\n    while they are converting him. They often put their\n    religious faith above their political obligation,\n    and, as bishops and priests, make it a duty to the\n    church for their members to vote as Catholics rather\n    than as American citizens. Not what favors the peace,\n    prosperity, and union of the nation, but what favors\n    their church, is the supreme question for them at every\n    election; and American politicians, for their predatory\n    purposes, have taught them this, and are their leaders\n    in it.\n\n    \"Now, as an American citizen, I say nothing against\n    the equality of the rights of the Roman Catholics and\n    the Protestants; both may lawfully strive, in their\n    unpolitical spheres, for the mastery, and the law\n    may not favor or disfavor either; nor can anything\n    be done to prevent Roman Catholics from using their\n    votes as Roman Catholics, if they please. It is\n    against the spirit, but not against the letter of the\n    constitution. At any rate, it cannot be helped; only,\n    it may compel Protestants to form parties and vote as\n    Protestants against Roman Catholic interests, which\n    would be a deplorable necessity, and lead, sooner\n    or later, through religious parties in politics, to\n    religious wars. The way to avoid such a horrible\n    possibility--alas, such a threatening probability for\n    the next generation--is at once to look with the utmost\n    carefulness and the utmost disfavor upon every effort\n    on the part of either Protestants or Catholics to mix\n    up sectarian or theological or religious questions with\n    national and state and city politics.\n\n    \"Every appeal of a sect, a denominational church,\n    or sectarian charity of any description, to the\n    general government, or state or city governments, for\n    subsidies or favors, should be at once discountenanced\n    and forbidden by public opinion, and made impossible\n    by positive statute. The Protestant sects in this\n    country should hasten to remove from their record any\n    advantages whatsoever guaranteed to them by civil\n    law to any partiality or sectarian distinction. The\n    most important privilege they enjoy by law in most of\n    the states is the right of keeping the Bible in the\n    public schools. It is a privilege associated with the\n    tenderest and most sacred symbol of the Protestant\n    faith--the Bible. To exclude it from the public schools\n    is to the religious affections of Protestants like\n    Abraham's sacrifice of his only son. When it was first\n    proposed, I felt horror-stricken, and instinctively\n    opposed it; but I have thought long and anxiously upon\n    the subject, and have, from pure logical necessity and\n    consistency, been obliged to change--nay, reverse my\n    opinion. Duty to the unsectarian character of our civil\n    institutions demands that this exclusion should be\n    made. It will not be any disclaimer of the importance\n    of the Bible in the education of American youth, but\n    only a concession that we cannot carry on the religious\n    with the secular education of American children, at the\n    public expense and in the public schools. So long as\n    Protestant Christians insist, merely in the strength\n    of their great majority, upon maintaining the Bible in\n    the public schools, they justify Roman Catholics in\n    demanding that the public money for education shall be\n    distributed to sects in proportion to the number of\n    children they educate. This goes far to break up the\n    common-school system of this country, and, if carried\n    out, must ultimately tend to dissolve the Union, which\n    morally depends upon the community of feeling and the\n    homogeneity of culture produced by an unsectarian\n    system of common schools.\"--_Church and State_, pp.\n    16-19.\n\nBut this proposed remedy will prove worse than the disease. The\nstate divorced from the church, wholly separated from religion, is\nseparated from morality; and the state separated from morality, that\nis, from the moral order, from natural justice inseparable from\nreligion, cannot stand, and ought not to stand, for it is incapable\nof performing a single one of its proper functions. The church,\nrepresenting the spiritual, and therefore the superior, order, is\nby its own nature and constitution as independent of the state as\nthe soul is of the body; and the state separated from the church, or\nfrom religion and morality, is like the body separated from the soul,\ndead, a putrid or putrefying corpse. Exclude your Protestant Bible\nand all direct and indirect religious instruction from your public\nschools, and you would not render them a whit less objectionable\nto us than they are now, for we object not less to purely secular\nschools than we do to sectarian schools. We hold that children should\nbe trained up in the way they should go, so that when old they will\nnot depart from it; and the way in which they should go is not the\nway of pure secularism, but the way enjoined by God our Maker through\nhis church. God has in this life joined soul and body, the spiritual\nand the secular, together, and what God has joined together we dare\nnot put asunder. There is only one of two things that can satisfy us:\neither cease to tax us for the support of the public schools, and\nleave the education of our children to us, or give us our proportion\nof the public schools in which to educate them in our own religion.\nWe protest against the gross injustice of being taxed to educate the\nchildren of non-Catholics, and being obliged in addition to support\nschools for our own children at our own expense, or peril their souls.\n\nWe do not think Dr. Bellows is aware of what he demands when he\ndemands the complete divorce of church and state, or the total\nseparation of religion and politics. The state divorced from the\nchurch is a godless state, and politics totally separated from\nreligion is simply political atheism, and political atheism is simply\npower without justice, force without law; for there is no law without\nGod, the supreme and universal Lawgiver. Man has no original and\nunderived legislative power, and one man has in and of himself no\nauthority over another; for all men by the law of nature are equal,\nand have equal rights, and among equals no one has the right to\ngovern. All governments based on political atheism, or the assumption\nthat politics are independent of religion, rest on no foundation, are\nusurpations, tyrannies, without right, and can govern, if at all,\nonly by might or sheer force. To declare the government divorced\nfrom religion is to declare it emancipated from the law of God, from\nall moral obligation, and free to do whatever it pleases. It has no\nduties, and under it there are and can be no rights; for rights and\nduties are in the moral order and inseparable from religion, since\nthe law of God is the basis of all rights and duties, the foundation\nand guarantee of all morality. The state, divorced from religion,\nwould be bound to recognize and protect no rights of God or man,\nnot even those natural and inalienable rights of all men, \"life,\nliberty, and the pursuit of happiness.\" This is going further in\nthe direction of absolutism than go the doctor's dear friends the\nTurks, whom he so warmly eulogizes in his letters from the East, for\neven they hold the sultan is bound by the Koran, and forbidden to do\nanything it prohibits.\n\nDr. Bellows, doubtless, has no intention of divorcing the state\nfrom morality, and does not see that his proposition implies it. He\nprobably holds that morality is separable from religion, for with him\nreligion is simply sentiment or opinion; but in this he falls into\nthe common mistake of all Liberal Christians, and of many Protestants\nwho regard Liberal Christians as no Christians at all. Morality\nand religion are inseparable, for morality is only the practical\napplication in the several departments of life of the principles of\nreligion. Without religion morality has no foundation, nothing on\nwhich to rest, is a baseless fabric, an unreality. Deny God, and you\ndeny the moral law and the whole moral order, all right, all duty,\nall human accountability. The separation of all political questions\nfrom all religious questions, which the reverend doctor demands, is\ntheir separation from all moral questions, and is the emancipation\nof the state from all right and all duty, or the assertion of its\nunrestricted power to do whatever it pleases, in total disregard of\nall moral and religious considerations. Is this the doctrine of a\nChristian?\n\nThis surely is not the relation of church and state in America, and\nderives no support from the American order of thought. With us,\nthe state is instituted chiefly for the protection of the natural\nrights of man, as we call them, but really the rights of God, since\nthey are anterior to civil society, are superior to it, and not\nderived or derivable from it. These rights it is the duty of civil\nsociety to protect and defend. Any acts of the political sovereign,\nbe that sovereign king or kaiser, nobility or people, contrary to\nthese antecedent and superior rights are tyrannical and unjust, are\nviolences, not laws, and the common-law courts will not enforce\nthem, because contrary to the law of justice and forbidden by it.\nThe American state disclaims all authority over the religion of its\ncitizens, but at the same time acknowledges its obligation to respect\nin its own action, and to protect and defend from external violence,\nthe religion which its citizens or any class of its citizens choose\nto adopt or adhere to for themselves. It by no means asserts its\nindependence of religion or its right to treat it with indifference,\nbut acknowledges its obligation to protect its citizens in the free\nand peaceable possession and enjoyment of the religion they prefer.\nIt goes further, and affords religion the protection and assistance\nof the law in the possession and management of her temporalities, her\nchurches and temples, lands and tenements, funds and revenues for the\nsupport of public worship, and various charitable or eleemosynary\ninstitutions. All the protection and assistance the benefit of which\nevery Protestant denomination fully enjoys, and even the Catholic\nChurch in principle, though not always in fact, would be denied, if\nthe divorce Dr. Bellows demands were granted, and religion, having\nno rights politicians are bound to respect, would become the prey of\nlawless and godless power, and religious liberty would be utterly\nannihilated, as well as civil liberty itself, which depends on it.\n\nThe chief pretence with Dr. Bellows for urging the complete divorce\nof church and state, is that Catholics demand and receive subsidies\nfrom the state and city for their schools and several charitable\ninstitutions. Some such subsidies have been granted, we admit,\nbut in far less proportion to Catholics than they to Protestants\nor non-Catholics. The public schools are supported at the public\nexpense, by the school fund, and a public tax, of which Catholics\npay their share, and these schools are simply sectarian or godless\nschools, for the sole benefit of non-Catholics. The subsidies\nconceded to a few of our schools do by no means place them on an\nequality with those of non-Catholics. We by no means receive our\nshare of the subsidies conceded. The aids granted to our hospitals,\norphan asylums, and reformatories are less liberal than those to\nsimilar non-Catholic institutions. So long as the state subsidizes\nany institutions of the sort, we claim to receive our proportion of\nthem as our right. If the state grant none to non-Catholics, we shall\ndemand none for ourselves. We demand equality, but we ask no special\nprivileges or favors. The outcry of the sectarian and secular press\nagainst us on this score is wholly unauthorized, is cruel, false, and\nunjust. It is part and parcel of that general system of falsification\nby which it is hoped to inflame popular passion and prejudice against\nCatholics and their church.\n\nUnderlying the whole of the doctrine of this discourse is the\nassumption of the supremacy of the secular order, or that every\nAmerican citizen is bound to subordinate his religion to his\npolitics, or divest himself of it whenever he acts on a political\nquestion. This, which is assumed and partially disguised in Dr.\nBellows, is openly and frankly asserted and boldly maintained in\nJudge Hurlbut's pamphlet. The judge talks much about theology,\ntheocracy, etc., subjects of which he knows less than he supposes,\nand of course talks a great deal of nonsense, as unbelievers\ngenerally do; but he is quite clear and decided that the state should\nhave the power to suppress any church or religious institution that\nis based on a theory or principle different from its own. The theory\nof the American government is democratic, and the government ought\nto have the power to suppress or exclude every church that is not\ndemocratically constituted. Religion should conform to politics,\nnot politics to religion. The political law is above the religious,\nand, of course, man is above God. In order to be able to carry out\nthis theory, the learned judge proposes an important amendment to\nthe constitution of the United States, which shall on the one hand\nprohibit the several states from ever establishing any religion by\nlaw; and, on the other, shall authorize Congress to enact such laws\nas it may deem necessary to control or prevent the establishment or\ncontinuance of any foreign hierarchical power in this country founded\non principles or dogmas antagonistic to republican institutions. He\nsays:\n\n    \"The following amendment is proposed to Article I.\n    of the amendments to the Constitution of the United\n    States. The words in italics are proposed to be added\n    to the present article:\n\n    \"ART. I. _Neither_ Congress _nor any state_ shall make\n    _any_ laws respecting an establishment of religion, or\n    prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the\n    freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of\n    the people peaceably to assemble and to petition the\n    government for a redress of grievances. _But Congress\n    may enact such laws as it shall deem necessary to\n    control or prevent the establishment or continuance of\n    any foreign hierarchical power in this country founded\n    on principles or dogmas antagonistic to republican\n    institutions._\n\n    \"It is assumed that there is nothing in the\n    constitution, as it stands, which forbids a _state_\n    from establishing a religion, and that no power is\n    conferred on Congress by the constitution to forbid\n    a foreign hierarchical establishment in the United\n    States. If such a power be needed, then the proposed\n    amendment is also necessary.\"--_Secular View_, p. 5.\n\nThis proposed amendment, like iniquity, lies unto itself, for\nwhile it prohibits Congress and the several states from making\nany law respecting an establishment of religion or prohibiting\nthe free exercise thereof, it gives to Congress full power to\ncontrol or prevent the establishment or the continuance--that is,\nto prohibit--the free exercise by Catholics of their religion,\nunder the flimsy pretence that it is a foreign hierarchy founded on\nanti-republican principles. The hierarchy is an essential part of our\nreligion, and any denial of its freedom is the denial of the free\nexercise of his religion to every Catholic, and of the very principle\nof religious liberty itself, which the constitution guarantees.\n\nWe of course deny that the Catholic hierarchy is a foreign hierarchy\nor anti-republican, for what is Catholic is universal, and what is\nuniversal is never and nowhere a foreigner; but yet, because its\nSupreme Pontiff does not reside personally in America, and its power\ndoes not emanate from the American people, Protestants, Jews, and\ninfidels will hold that it is a foreign power, and anti-republican.\nThe carnal Jews held the Hebrew religion to be a national religion,\nand because the promised Messiah came as a spiritual, not as a\ntemporal and national prince, they rejected him. Infidels believe\nin no spiritual order, and consequently in no Catholic principle or\nauthority; Protestants believe in no Catholic hierarchy, and hold\nthat all authority in religious matters comes from God, not through\nthe hierarchy, but through the faithful or the people, and hence\ntheir ministers are _called_, not _sent_. It would be useless,\ntherefore, to undertake to prove to one or another of these three\nclasses that the Catholic hierarchy is at home here, in America, as\nmuch so as at Rome, and, since it holds not from the people, that\nit is not founded on anti-republican or anti-democratic principles.\nThe only arguments we could use to prove it lie in an order of\nthought with which they are not familiar, do not even recognize,\nand to be appreciated demand a spiritual apprehension which, though\nnot above natural reason, is quite too high for such confirmed\nsecularists as ex-Judge Hurlbut and his rationalistic brethren, who\nhave lost all conception, not only of the supernatural order, but\nof the supersensible, the intelligible, the universal reality above\nindividual or particular existences.\n\nFor Catholics there are two orders, the secular and the spiritual.\nThe secular is bound by the limitations and conditions of time and\nplace; the spiritual is above and independent of all such conditions\nand limitations, and is universal, always and everywhere the same.\nThe Catholic hierarchy represents in the secular and visible world,\nin the affairs of individuals and nations, this spiritual order,\non which the whole secular order depends, and which, therefore, is\nan alien nowhere and at home everywhere. The Catholic hierarchy\nis supernatural, not natural, and, therefore, no more a foreigner\nin one nation than in another. But it is only the Catholic that\ncan see and understand this; it is too high and too intellectual\nfor non-Catholics, whose minds are turned earthward, and have lost\nthe habit of looking upward, and to recover it must be touched by\nthe quickening and elevating power of grace. We must expect them,\ntherefore, to vote the Catholic hierarchy to be in this country a\nforeign hierarchy, although it is nowhere national, and is no more\nforeign here than is God himself.\n\nThe Catholic hierarchy is not founded on democratic principles,\nwe grant, but there is nothing in its principles or dogmas\nantagonistical to republican government, if government at all; but\nsince it holds not from the people, nor in any sense depends on them\nfor its authority, non-Catholics, who recognize no power above the\npeople, will vote it anti-republican, undemocratic, antagonistical to\nthe American system of government. It is of no use to try to persuade\nthem to the contrary, or to allege that it is of the very essence\nand design of religion to assert the supremacy of an order which\ndoes not hold from the people, and is above them both individually\nand collectively, or to maintain in the direction and government of\nhuman affairs the supremacy of the law of God, which all men and\nnations, in both public and private matters, are bound to obey, and\nwhich none can disobey with impunity. They will only reply that this\nis repugnant to the democratic tendencies of the age, is contrary to\nthe free and enlightened spirit of the nineteenth century, denies\nthe original, absolute, and underived sovereignty of the people, and\nis manifestly a return to the theocratic principle which humanity\nrejects with horror. To an argument of this sort there, of course,\nis no available answer. The men who use it are impervious to logic\nor common sense, for they either believe in no God, or that God is\naltogether like one of themselves; therefore, in no respect above\nthemselves.\n\nIt is very clear, then, if Judge Hurlbut's proposed amendment\nto the constitution were adopted, it would be interpreted as\ngiving to Congress, as the Judge intends it should, the power to\nsuppress, according to its discretion, the Catholic hierarchy,\nand, therefore, the Catholic Church in the United States, and that,\ntoo, notwithstanding the very amendment denies to Congress the\npower to prohibit to any one the free exercise of his religion! How\ntrue it is, as the Psalmist says, \"Iniquity hath lied to itself.\"\nThe enemies of the church, who are necessarily the enemies of God,\nand, therefore, of the truth, are not able to frame an argument or\na law against the church that does not contradict or belie itself;\nyet are they, in their own estimation, the _enlightened_ portion of\nmankind, and Catholics are weak, besotted, grovelling in ignorance\nand superstition.\n\nThere is little doubt that the amendment proposed by Judge Hurlbut\nwould, if adopted, effect the object the Evangelical sects are\nconspiring with Jews and infidels to effect, so far as human power\ncan effect it--that is, the suppression of the Catholic Church in the\nUnited States, and it is a bolder, more direct, and honester way of\ncoming at it than the fair-seeming but insidious amendment proposed\nby Mr. Justice Strong, of the Supreme Court of the United States, and\nhis Evangelical allies. It is now well understood by non-Catholic\nleaders that the growth of the church cannot be prevented or retarded\nby arguments drawn from Scripture or reason, for both Scripture and\nreason are found to be on her side, and dead against them. They see\nvery clearly that if she is left free with \"an open field and fair\nplay,\" it is all over with her opponents. They must then contrive in\nsome way, by some means or other, to suppress the religious freedom\nand equality now guaranteed by our constitution and laws, and bring\nthe civil law or the physical power of the state to bear against the\nchurch and the freedom of Catholics. That it is a settled design\non the part of the leading Protestant sects to do this--and that\nthey are aided by Unitarians and Universalists, because they know\nthat Protestant orthodoxy would soon go by the board if the Catholic\nChurch were suppressed; by the Jews, because they hate Christianity,\nand know well that Christianity and the Catholic Church stand or\nfall together; and by unbelievers and secularists, because they\nwould abolish all religion, and they feel that they cannot effect\ntheir purpose if the Catholic Church stands in their way--no one can\nseriously doubt. We include the Jews in this conspiracy, for we have\nbefore us the report of a remarkable discourse delivered lately in\nthe Hebrew synagogue at Washington, D. C., by the Rabbi Lilienthal,\nof Cincinnati, entitled \"First the State, then the Church,\" which\nis directed almost wholly against the Catholic Church. We make an\nextract from this discourse, longer than we can well afford room for,\nbut our readers will thank us for it:\n\n    \"Of all the questions which demand our serious\n    consideration, none is of more importance than the\n    one, 'Shall the state or the church rule supreme?'\n    All over Europe, this question is mooted at present,\n    and threatens to assume quite formidable proportions.\n    There is but one empire across the ocean in which\n    this problem, so far, has been definitely settled by\n    virtue of autocratic might and power. It is Russia.\n    When, in the seventeenth century, the Patriarch of\n    Moscow had died, and the metropolitans and archbishops\n    of the Greek Church met for the purpose of filling\n    the vacancy, Peter the Great rushed with drawn sword\n    into their meeting, and, throwing the same on the\n    table, exclaimed, 'Here is your patriarch.' Since\n    that time the Czar is emperor and pope at once; and,\n    very significantly, the 'Holy Synod,' or the supreme\n    ecclesiastical court of Russia, is presided over by a\n    general, the representative of the Czar. And hence\n    the Emperor Nicholas used to say: State and church are\n    represented in me; and the motto ruling the Russian\n    government was autocracy, Russian nationality, and the\n    Greek Church.\n\n    \"But everywhere else in Europe this question agitates\n    the old continent. In Great Britain, Gladstone works\n    for the enfranchisement of the church; the Thirty\n    nine Articles, so renowned at Oxford and Cambridge,\n    are going to be abolished, and High Churchmen and\n    Dissenters prepare themselves for the final struggle.\n    Italy, so long priest-ridden, has inscribed on her\n    national banner the glorious words, 'Religious\n    liberty,' and means to carry them out to the fullest\n    extent, in spite of all anathemas and excommunications.\n    Spain, though still timid and wavering, has adopted\n    the same policy. Austria has thrown off her concordat,\n    and inserted in her new constitution the same modern\n    principle; and the German Empire has fully recognized\n    the equality of all citizens, without difference of\n    creed or denomination, before the courts and tribunals\n    of resurrected and united Germany.\n\n    \"But daily we hear of the demands of the clergy, made\n    in the interests of their church. Since the last\n    \u0152cumenical Council has proclaimed the new dogma of\n    Papal infallibility, the bishops want to discharge\n    all teachers and professors, both at the theological\n    seminaries and universities, who are unwilling to\n    subscribe to this new tenet of the Roman Church. The\n    Archbishop of Gnesen and Posen even asked for the names\n    of all those men who at the last election of members\n    for the German Parliament did not vote for those men\n    he had proposed as candidates. The government is now\n    bound to interfere, but nobody can tell how this coming\n    conflict between church and state will be decided.\n\n    \"This is the aspect of the old continent. What is the\n    prospect in America, in our glorious and God-blessed\n    country? Of course, religious liberty, in the fullest\n    sense of the word, is the supreme law of the land. It\n    is the most precious gem in the diadem of our republic,\n    it is warranted and secured by our constitution.\n\n    \"The immortal signers of the Declaration of\n    Independence; those modern prophets and apostles of\n    humanity; those statesmen who thoroughly appreciated\n    the bloody lessons of past history, knew but too well\n    what they were doing when they entirely separated\n    church and state, and ignored all sectarian sentiments\n    in the inspired documents they bequeathed to their\n    descendants. The denominational peace that heretofore\n    characterized the mighty and unequalled growth of\n    the young republic bears testimony to their wisdom,\n    foresight, and statesmanship.\n\n    \"But, alas! our horizon, too, begins to be clouded. The\n    harmony that heretofore prevailed between the various\n    churches and denominations begins to be disturbed.\n    Then we had in the last two years the conventions\n    at Pittsburg and Philadelphia. The men united there\n    meant to insert God in our constitution, as we have\n    him already on our coins, by the inscription, 'In God\n    we trust.' They intend to christianize our country,\n    against the clear and emphatic spirit and letter of the\n    constitution. And I must leave it to the learned judge\n    of the Supreme Court of the United States who presided\n    over those meetings, to decide whether this future\n    Christian country hereafter shall be a Catholic or a\n    Protestant country.\n\n    \"The Roman Catholic press and pulpit are not slow in\n    answering this question. With praiseworthy frankness\n    and manliness they declare the intentions of their\n    church. Father Hecker says: 'In fifteen years we will\n    take this country and build our institutions over the\n    grave of Protestantism.... There is, ere long, to\n    be a state religion in this country, and that state\n    religion is to be Roman Catholic.' Bishop O'Connor, of\n    Pittsburg, says: 'Religious liberty is merely endured\n    until the opposite can be carried into effect without\n    peril to the Catholic world.' The Archbishop of St.\n    Louis says: 'If the Catholics ever gain, which they\n    surely will, an immense numerical majority, religious\n    freedom in this country will be at an end.' And the\n    Pope speaks of the 'delirium of toleration, and asserts\n    the right to punish criminals in the order of ideas.'\n\n    \"This language is plain, unequivocal, and cannot be\n    misinterpreted. Still, I am not an alarmist. I have too\n    much faith in the sound common sense of the American\n    people that they should barter away their political\n    birthright for any theological or clerical controversy.\n    They are too much addicted to the policy of 'a second\n    sober thought,' that, after having first of all taught\n    the human race the invaluable blessings of religious\n    liberty, they should discard them just now, when the\n    whole civilized world is imitating the glorious example\n    set by our great and noble sires.\n\n    \"But, 'vigilance being the price of liberty,' in the\n    face of this assertion it is not only right, but\n    an imperative duty, to enlighten ourselves on this\n    all-important subject, so that we may take our choice,\n    and perform our duties as true, loyal citizens and\n    true, loyal Americans.\"\n\nThis is very much to the purpose, and if it shows that the rabbi is\nno friend of Protestant Christianity, it shows that his principal\nhostility is to the Catholic Church, as the body and support of\nChristianity. He exults, as well he may, over the falling away from\nthe church of the old Catholic governments of Europe, for one of the\nchief instruments in effecting that apostasy has been precisely his\nHebrew brethren, the great supporters of the anti-Catholic revolution\nof modern times; and his slanders on the Catholic Church are in the\nvery spirit of the Evangelical Alliance, even to the false charges\nhe brings against distinguished individual Catholics. The assertion\nthat \"Father Hecker says, 'In fifteen years we will take this country\nand build our institutions over the grave of Protestantism,'\" as that\nother assertion, \"There is or ought to be a state religion in this\ncountry, and that state religion is to be Roman Catholic,'\" Father\nHecker himself assures us, is false. He never did, nor with his\nviews ever could, say anything of the sort. Bishop O'Connor, late of\nPittsburg, never did and never could have said, \"Religious liberty is\nmerely endured until the opposite can be carried into effect without\nperil to the Catholic world.\" We happen to know that his views were\nand are very different; and if they were not, he is too shrewd to\ncommit the blunder of saying anything like what is falsely attributed\nto him, or to disclose such an ulterior purpose. We may say as much\nof the sentiment attributed to the Archbishop of St. Louis. The\narchbishop never uttered or entertained it. Something like what is\nascribed to him was said, many years ago, by Mr. Bakewell, in _The\nShepherd of the Valley_, a paper published at St. Louis, but he was\nassailed by the Catholic press all over the country, and, if he did\nnot retract it, at least endeavored to explain it away, and to show\nthat he meant no such thing. The archbishop never said it, and was\nno more responsible for it than was the Rabbi Lilienthal himself.\nNo Catholic prelate and no distinguished Catholic layman even has\never proposed any amendment to the constitution in regard to the\nrelations of church and state in this country, or has expressed any\nwish to have the existing constitutional relations changed, or in\nany respect modified. The church is satisfied with them, and only\nasks that they be faithfully observed. She opposes the separation of\nchurch and state in the sense of releasing the state from all moral\nand religious obligations, for that would imply the subjection of the\nchurch to the state, and prove the grave of religious freedom and\nindependence, which she always and everywhere asserts with all her\nenergy against kings, emperors, nobilities, and peoples--against Jew,\nPagan, Mussulman, schismatic, and heretic, and it is for this that\nthey conspire against her and seek her destruction.\n\nThe rabbi says, \"First the state, then the church,\" which is as\nabsurd as to say, \"First man, then God.\" The state represents\nsimply a human authority, while the church, or the synagogue even,\nrepresents--the first for the Catholic, the second for the Jew--the\nsovereignty of God, or the divine authority in human affairs, and the\nrabbi in his doctrine is false alike to Moses and to Christ, and as\nlittle of an orthodox Jew as he is of a Christian believer. Yet he\nagrees perfectly with Judge Hurlbut and Dr. Bellows in asserting the\nsupremacy of the state or secular order, and the subordination of the\nspiritual order. We do not know whether the rabbi means to approve\nor censure the assumption, by Peter the Great, of the headship of\nthe Russian Church and his government of it by the sword; but Peter\nonly acted on the principle, \"First the state, then the church,\" and\nthe slavery of the Russian Church to the state is only an inevitable\nconsequence of that principle or maxim. The Russian Church, governed\nby the Holy Synod, itself governed by the Czar, presents a lively\nimage of the abject position religion would be compelled to hold in\nevery country if the doctrine of the total separation of church and\nstate, and the independence and supremacy of the state, advocated by\none or another of the three men we are criticising, were to prevail\nand to be embodied in the civil code.\n\nBut let this pass. It is clear that the rabbi, and therefore the\nJews, so far as he represents them, are to be included in the\ngreat conspiracy against the liberty and equality of Catholics, or\nreligious liberty recognized and guaranteed by the American states.\nCatholics are to be put down and their church suppressed by the\nstrong arm of power. To prepare the American people for this proposed\nrevolution in the American system, this suppression of religious\nliberty, a system of gross misrepresentation of Catholic faith and\npractice, of misstatements, calumnious charges, and downright lying\nrespecting the church, is resorted to and persisted in as it was by\nthe reformers in the sixteenth century. \"Lie, lie stoutly,\" Voltaire\nsaid, though it was said long before him; \"something will stick.\" We\ndo not like to say this, but truth will not permit us to soften our\nstatement or to use milder terms. There is nothing too harsh or too\nfalse for the anti-Catholic press and the anti-Catholic preachers\nand lecturers to say of our holy religion, and nothing can be more\nunlike the Catholic Church than their pretended representations of\nher--too unlike, indeed, even to be called caricatures, for they\ncatch not one of her features. Even when the anti-Catholic writers\nand speakers tell facts about Catholics or in the history of the\nchurch, they so tell them as to distort the truth and to produce the\neffect of falsehood, or draw inferences from them wholly unwarranted.\nWe must, then, be excused if we sometimes call the systematic\nmisrepresentation of our religion, our church, and ourselves by its\ntrue and expressive name, even though it may seem harsh and impolite.\nThe batteries they discharge against the church are not to be\nsilenced by bouquets of roses.\n\nThe public has become too well informed as to Catholic doctrines and\nusages to permit the repetition, with much effect, of many of the old\ncharges and calumnies. Only the very ignorant can be made to believe\nthat the church is the Babylonian sorceress who makes the nations\ndrunk with the wine of her fornications; that she is \"the mystery of\niniquity\"; that the Pope is \"the man of sin,\" or Antichrist; that\nour nunneries are brothels, and their vaults are filled with the\nskeletons of murdered infants, of which Luther discoursed to his\nfriends with so much unction in his Tischreden over his pot of beer.\nThese things are a little out of date, and do not gain the ready\ncredence they once did. The age is all for liberty, for progress,\nfor enlightenment; so the anti-Catholic tactics change to suit the\ntimes. James I. of England, as did the politicians of France opposed\nto the Ligue, charged the church with being hostile to monarchy and\nthe divine right of kings. The charge now is that she is opposed to\nrepublicanism, and denies the divine right of the people, or, more\nstrictly, of the demagogues. She is said to be a spiritual despotism,\nthe foster-mother of ignorance and superstition, the enemy of science\nand of progress, of intelligence and liberty, individual and social,\ncivil and religious. Her religious houses are dens of cruelty and\ntyranny, and if she is permitted to continue and spread her peculiar\ninstitutions over this country, American democracy will be destroyed,\nand American liberty be but a memory, etc., etc.\n\nThe cry is not now, the truth is in danger, the Gospel is in danger,\nreligion is in danger, but the republic is in danger, democracy is\nin danger, liberty is in danger. The church, the moment she gets the\npower, will, it is argued, abolish our political system, establish\na monarchy, abolish religious liberty, and cut the throats of all\nheretics and infidels, or send them to the stake to be consumed in\na fire of green wood, as Calvin did Michael Servetus. And there\nare not wanting fools enough to believe it or dishonest men enough\nto pretend to believe it when they do not, though it is evident\nthat the republic is likely to pass away, if things go on in the\npolitical world as they are now going, and be succeeded by anarchy\nor a military despotism long before the majority of the people will\ncease to war against the church as anti-democratic. But the point\nto be noted here is that all these charges assume the supremacy of\nthe secular order, and allege not that the church is false, is not\nthe church of God, but that she is hostile to democracy or democratic\ninstitutions; in other words, that she does not conform to popular\nopinion, for democracy is nothing but popular opinion erected into\nlaw. Now, as we do not believe that popular opinion, inconstant as\nthe wind, is infallible, or that the secular order is supreme, we are\nnot sure that it would be a fatal objection to the church even if\nwhat is alleged against her were well founded. The arguments against\nthe church of this sort are drawn from too low a level to command any\nintelligent respect, and they are all based on a false assumption.\nPolitics are not higher than religion; the state is not above the\nchurch; the secular order is not above the spiritual; and it is only\natheism that can assert the contrary. To a terrible extent, the\nsupremacy of the secular is the doctrine of our age and country; but\nCatholics hold it to be both false and dangerous, as incompatible\nwith the liberty and independence of religion, with natural morality,\nand even with the existence of natural society, as it is with the\nsovereignty of God. It is the doctrine of the European revolutionists\nand communists, and is sapping the life and threatening the very\nexistence of our American republicanism--has already reduced our\ngovernment to be little else than an agency for promoting the private\ninterests of business men, bankers, manufacturers, and railroad\ncorporations. Our elections are becoming a wretched farce, for the\nmonopolists govern the government, let what party may succeed at the\npolls. The State governments cannot control them, and the General\nGovernment just as little.\n\nWe will not so dishonor the church or insult religion as to undertake\nto refute these popular charges against her, and to prove that her\nauthority is not incompatible with the existence and salutary working\nof republican government. The charges are addressed to ignorance and\nprejudice; we take higher ground, and maintain that civil society\ncan no more dispense with the church, than the body with the soul.\nThe secular is insufficient for itself, and needs the informing life\nand vigor of the spiritual. The political history of France since\n1682, especially since 1789, proves it to all men who are capable\nof tracing effects to their causes. There is no form of government\nmore in need of the church than the republican, founded on the modern\ndoctrine of popular sovereignty, and the maxim, the majority must\nrule. The habit of regarding power as emanating from the mass, as\nderived from low to high, tends itself to debase the mind, to destroy\nthat respect for law, and that reverence for authority, without which\nno government performs in a peaceable and orderly way its legitimate\nfunctions. The American people see nothing divine, nothing sacred\nand inviolable, in their government; they regard law as an emanation\nof their own will, as their own creation, and what creator can feel\nhimself bound to reverence and obey his own creature? We need the\nchurch to consecrate the government, to give the law a spiritual\nsanction, to create in us habits of reverence, of submission,\nand docility, and to impress us with the conviction that civil\nobedience is a moral duty, and that we must be loyal to legitimate\nauthority for conscience' sake. We need the church to teach us that\nin obeying the laws not repugnant to the divine law, we are obeying\nnot men, which is slavery, but God, which is freedom, and the very\nprinciple of all freedom. We need her to create in us high and holy\naspirations, to produce in us those high and disinterested virtues,\nwithout which civil government is impotent for good, and powerful\nonly for evil. No man who believes not in the sovereignty of truth,\nin the supremacy of right, and feels it not his duty to obey it at\nall hazards, has the temper demanded in a republic, and only the\nchurch can create it.\n\nA government built on interest, however enlightened, on sentiment,\nhowever charming, or public opinion, however just, is a house built\non the sand. It rests on nothing fixed and permanent, is without\nstability or efficiency, and tends always to fall and bury the people\nin its ruins. We see this in our own political history. It would be\ndifficult to find a government more corrupt than ours, that taxes\nthe people more heavily, or that does less for the public good, the\nadvantages we had at the start being taken into the account. The\ngood that has been done, the great things accomplished, have been\naccomplished by the people in spite of the government, and our record\nas a nation can hardly put that of Prussia or Russia to shame.\n\nWe do not choose to dwell on this aspect of the case, although much\nmore might be said. We love our country, have been bred to love\nrepublicanism, and have the success of the American experiment at\nheart. The evils which the liberals charge to the union of church\nand state, and hold the church responsible for, spring, as every\nimpartial and intelligent student of history knows, not from\nthe union but from the separation of church and state, and the\nunremitting efforts of the civil power to usurp the functions of\nthe spiritual power, and to make the church the accomplice of its\npolicy. The terrible struggles of the pope and emperor in the middle\nages had this cause and no other. The pope simply sought to maintain\nagainst the emperor the freedom and independence of the church, the\nkingdom of God on earth, that is, true religious liberty. It is to\nthe partial, in some countries the complete, triumph of the secular\nover the spiritual, that we must attribute the unsettled, disorderly,\nand revolutionary state of contemporary society throughout the\ncivilized world, the hatred or contempt of authority both divine\nand human, the depression of religion, the decline of intellectual\ngreatness, the substitution of opinion for faith, a sickly\nsentimentalism for a manly and robust piety, free-loveism or divorce\n_ad libitum_ for Christian marriage, and the general abasement of\ncharacter.\n\nThe evils are very real, but the more perfect divorce of the state\nfrom the church would not cure or lessen, but only aggravate and\nintensify them; nay, would to all human foresight render them\nincurable. The state without religion or moral obligation is impotent\nto redress social evils or to elevate society, and Protestantism,\nwhich holds from the people, and depends for its very breath of\nlife on popular opinion, is no less impotent than the state.\nProtestantism, having retained some elements of religion from the\nchurch, may, we readily concede, do something to retard the fall\nof a nation that accepts it, but when a Protestant nation has once\nfallen, become morally and politically corrupt, rotten to the core,\nit has no power to restore it; for it has no principle of life to\ninfuse into it above and beyond that which it already has. Resting\non human authority, holding from the nation or people, its life is\nonly the national life itself; and, of course, when the national life\ngrows weak, its own life grows weak, and when the national life\nis extinct, its own life becomes extinct with it. Cut off from the\nchurch of God, and therefore from Him who is \"the way, the truth, and\nthe life,\" it cannot draw new supplies of life from the Fountain of\nLife itself, with which to revive and reinvigorate the fallen nation.\n\nThis is wherefore there is no hope for our republic under\nProtestantism. There has been a sad falling-off in the virtue,\nthe honesty, the integrity, the chastity, and public spirit of\nour people in the last fifty years. The old habits formed under\nCatholic discipline and influences are wearing out, if not worn\nout; intellectual culture may be more general, though even\nthat may be questioned, but it is less generous, thorough, and\nprofound; meeting-houses may be increased in greater proportion\nthan the population itself, but theology is less studied--is less\nintellectual, less scientific, and is more superficial; and religion\nhas less hold on the conscience, and less influence on life, public,\nprivate, or domestic; and we may say, generally, that in all save\nwhat belongs to the material order, our republic has a downward\ntendency. Now, since Protestantism has nothing more or higher than\nthe republic, and no recuperative power, how, then, can it possibly\narrest this downward tendency and turn it upward, and save the\nnation? Archimedes wanted something whereon to stand outside of the\nworld in order to move it. This Protestantism has not, for it rests\non the world, and has nothing above the world or outside of it, and\nin fact is only the world itself. To every one who understands the\ngreat law of mechanic force, which has its analogue in the great\nprinciple of moral or spiritual dynamics, it is clear that the hope\nof the republic is not and cannot be in Protestantism, and there is\njust as little in the civil order, for that, divorced from the church\nand without any moral obligation, is precisely that which needs\nsaving. The union of the various Protestant sects in one organic\nbody, if it were possible, would avail nothing; for the whole would\nbe only the sum of the parts, and the parts having no supermundane\nlife, the whole could have none.\n\nHence we say that whatever hope there is for our republic is in the\ngrowth and predominance of the Catholic Church in the minds and\nhearts of the American people; and there is a well-grounded hope for\nit only in the prospect that she may before it is too late become the\nchurch of the great majority. The church has what Archimedes wanted,\nand Protestantism has not--the whereon to stand outside and above the\nworld. She lives a life which is not derived from the life of the\nworld, and is in communion with the Source of life itself, whence\nshe may be constantly drawing fresh supplies, and infusing into the\nnation a life above the national life in its best estate, and which,\ninfused into the nation, becomes for it a recuperative energy, and\nenables it to arrest its downward tendency, and to ascend to a new\nand higher life. It is not without a reason, then, founded in the\nnature of things, that we tell our countrymen that Protestantism may\nruin the republic, but cannot save it, any more than it can the soul\nof the individual; and that, instead of crying out against the church\nlike madmen, as hostile to the republic, they should rather turn\ntheir eyes toward her as their only source of help, and learn that\nshe can and will save the republic, if they will only allow her to do\nit.\n\nYet we urge not this as the motive for accepting the teaching of\nthe church and submitting to her authority and discipline. Our Lord\nsays to us, \"Seek first the kingdom of God and his justice, and all\nthese things shall be added unto you,\" but he does not bid us or\npermit us to seek the kingdom of God and his justice for the sake of\n\"these things,\" or the _adjicienda_; he forbids us to be solicitous\nfor them, since it is for them that the heathen are solicitous. The\nonly motive for a man to become a Catholic, to believe what she\nteaches and to do what she commands, is that she is the kingdom of\nGod on earth, and that it is only in so doing that he can possess\n\"his justice,\" please God, or attain to eternal life. Christ did\nnot come, as a temporal prince, to found--as the carnal Jews,\nmisinterpreting the prophecies, expected--an earthly kingdom, or to\ncreate an earthly paradise; but he came as a spiritual prince to\nestablish the reign of his Father on earth in all human affairs, and\nover all men and nations, and whatever temporal good is secured is\nnot the end or reason of his kingdom, but is simply incidental to\nit. It is no reason why I should or should not be a Catholic because\nthe church favors or does not favor one or another particular theory\nor constitution of civil government, but the fact that she does\nnot favor a particular form of civil polity, if it be a fact, is\nsufficient reason why I should not favor it, for it proves that such\nform is repugnant to the sovereignty of God and the supremacy of his\nlaw. As a matter of fact, however, the church has never condemned\nany particular form of civil polity or erected one form or another\ninto a Catholic dogma, and a man may be a monarchist, a republican,\nor a democrat, as he pleases, and at the same time be a good and\nirreproachable Catholic, if he hold the political power subordinate\nto the divine sovereignty.\n\nThe church is necessary to sustain a republican form of government,\nbut it is also necessary to sustain any other form, as a wise, just,\nand efficient civil government. The error of those we are combating\nis not in that they are democrats or anti-democrats, but in holding\nthat the state or secular order is sufficient for itself, can stand\nof itself without the aid of religion or the church, has no need of\nthe spiritual, and has in fact the right to brush religion aside as\nan impertinent intermeddler whenever it comes in its way, or seeks\nto dictate or influence its policy. This is a gross error, condemned\nby all religion, all philosophy, and all experience. It is the old\nepicurean error that excludes the divine authority from the direction\nor control of human affairs, and in its delirium sings,\n\n      \"Let the gods go to sleep up above us.\"\n\nIt is at bottom pure atheism, nothing more, nothing less. It is a\npure absurdity. Can the creation stand without the creator? Can the\ncontingent subsist without the necessary? Can the body live and\nperform its functions without the soul which is its principle of\nlife; the dependent without that on which it depends? In the whole\nhistory of the world, you will not find an instance of a purely\natheistical state, or a state held to be completely divorced from\nthe spiritual order. There is no instance in all history of a state\nwithout some sort of religion, even an established religion, or\nreligion which the state recognizes as its supreme law, and does its\nbest or worst to enforce. We here, as well as in England, as well as\nat any time in any European country, have an established religion\nwhich the law protects and enforces on all its citizens, only it is a\nmutilated religion, a religion without dogmas, and called morality.\nIf not so, whence is it the law punishes murder or arson, and forbids\npolygamy, or the promiscuous intercourse of the sexes? Even Jacobins\nerect their jacobinism into a religion, and make it obligatory on the\nstate to persecute, to exterminate all who dare oppose it. Have we\nnot seen it despoil the Holy See of its independence and possessions,\nconfiscate the goods of the church, exile holy bishops from their\nsees and their country in Italy, and within a few weeks shoot down\nthe Archbishop of Paris and a large number of priests and religious,\nsuspend public worship, desecrate and plunder the churches, and\nbanish all religion but their jacobinism from the schools? No state\ntolerates any religion hostile to its own established religion, and\nthe most intolerant and cruel persecutors in the world are precisely\nthose who clamor loudest for religious liberty.\n\nThere is no such thing as a complete divorce of church and state\npracticable in any country on earth. The only question is, Shall the\nstate be informed and directed by the infallible and holy church of\nGod, or by the synagogue of Satan? No man who is at all competent\nto pass a judgment on the question but agrees with the Syllabus\nin condemning not the distinction, but the separation of church\nand state; but the forms of the union of the two powers, whose\nharmonious action is necessary to the normal state of society, may\nvary according to circumstances. In countries where the state refuses\nto recognize frankly and fully the freedom and independence of the\nspiritual order, it may be necessary to regulate the relation of\nchurch and state by concordats; in others, where the state recognizes\nthe independence of the spiritual order, and holds itself bound\nto protect the rights of the religion adopted by its citizens,\nas hitherto with us, no concordats are necessary, for the state\ndoes not claim any competence in spirituals. In this country the\nrelation between the two powers has, with a few exceptions, been\nsatisfactory, and the church has been free. But there is on foot a\nformidable conspiracy against her freedom, and it is beginning to be\nmaintained pretty determinedly that the majority of the people, being\nProtestant, and the people being the state, have the right and the\nduty as the state to sustain Protestantism, and outlaw and suppress\nthe church.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[156] 1. _Church and State in America._ A Discourse given at\nWashington, D. C., at the installation of Rev. Frederic Hinckley as\nPastor of the Unitarian Church, January 25, 1871. By Rev. Henry W.\nBellows, D.D. Washington, D. C.: Philp & Solomons. 1871. 8vo, pp. 22.\n\n2. _A Secular View of Religion in the State, and of the Bible in the\nPublic Schools._ By E. P. Hurlbut. Albany: Munsell. 1870. 8vo, pp. 55.\n\n\n\n\nDRAMATIC MORALISTS IN SPANISH AMERICA.\n\n\nThe truth is slowly dawning, at least to curious minds, that the\npeople of the southern half of our New World have tastes not\ndissimilar to our own. Indeed, they seek other arts than those of\nrevolution, and, here and there, have other stages and actors than\nthose which represent the _pronunciamiento_, with all its malicious\nbombast and insignificant \"sound and fury.\" We can count poets,\nnovelists, painters, sculptors, scientists in the ranks of the most\ndistinguished men of our nearest sister republic. Cuba, too, rejoices\nin the genius of her philosophic scholar, Caballero de la Luz, and of\nher poets, Heredia and Gertrudiz de Avella\u00f1eda, with the same spirit\nwhich Mexico brings to her admiration of the scientific versatility\nof Siguenza, the quaint ideality of Sor Juana Inez, and the literary\nculture of Carpio and Pesado. Nevertheless, such facts as these have\naided but little in forming the common estimate of Spanish-American\npeoples, who are to some of us scarcely more than a Bedouin rabble\nfighting problematic wild-beasts in the shape of pronouncers, and\nstruggling through clouds of desert-dust and battle-smoke to the\nlight of freedom. That great rude reserve of race, the Indians,\nwithout which the business of one-half the continent could not be\ncarried on, seems to be swept out of our moral consideration as with\na broom; yet we must think hopefully of a race which has produced\nan artist so extraordinary as Cabrera and a ruler so enduring and\npersistent as Juarez--hopefully, at all events, of their mere\nabilities, if mother church does not teach us to look with a\nshrewder and kindlier eye upon their moral capabilities. In more than\none country of Spanish America we find Indians among presidents,\njudges, governors, congressmen, writers, artists; and this being the\ncase, historically or actually, why should it be a matter of surprise\nthat Spanish America, with whatever Old World culture she may possess\nin union with native aptitude, should have some claims upon our\nattention on the score of taste and intelligence? Part of these\nclaims we propose to set forth.\n\nThe present writer has sat in the orderly theatres of Vera Cruz and\nMexico, and seen performances substantially as good as those of\nour northern capitals. The _Zarzuelas_, or operettas, of Barbieri\nand Gatzambide were as pleasant in 1868-69 to their hearers in the\nsouthern republic as the French comic opera to New Yorkers, and\nnevertheless seemed decent and spirited; besides, the Mexicans had\nthe good fortune to enjoy Gatzambide's personal direction of his\n_Zarzuelas_, and Gatzambide (now deceased) was one of the most\npopular musicians of Spain. Another celebrity the Mexicans honored\nin the person of Jos\u00e9 Valero, a gentlemanlike Spanish actor, whose\nsuperior in versatile genius as tragedian and comedian it would\nbe difficult to find anywhere. Entertainments were plentiful in\nMoctezuma's city, though subsisting, so to speak, upon diminished\nrations. Round about all these flickering pleasures flowed the\nstrange dark tide of Mexican life--its ragged multitude, its\nconcealed miseries, its settled and common melancholy, not to\nbe dissipated by any class of illusions, not to be shaken off in\na day, or a year, or any brief term of years. Nevertheless, the\nmisfortunes of a war-worn people found as tasteful and respectable\na solace as their theatres could afford. Their scholars were even\nencouraged to revive and celebrate some ancient glories of the\nMexican stage; and at the opening of a season they crowned the bust\nof one of the fathers of the Spanish drama, whom with reason they\nregard as among the greatest of the small band of very eminent\nMexicans. This laurelled bust was but one of a number to be seen in\nthe various theatres, in several instances perpetuating the memory\nof Mexico's own dramatic authors. On the occasion referred to, poems\nby well-known poets--and, among the rest, if the writer remembers\ncorrectly, an eloquent composition by the highly-esteemed blind poet,\nJuan Valle--preluded the revival of that celebrated comedy, _La\nVerdad Sospechosa_, or, The Truth Suspected.\n\n\nJUAN RUIZ DE ALARCON.\n\nThe author of this play was Alarcon, that thoughtful writer who, on\nthe Spanish stage, ranks with Lope, Calderon, Moreto, and Tirso.\nStrange as it may appear to those who doubt whether any good can\ncome out of Mexico, he was born and bred in that mysterious country.\nWhat his countrymen do not know of their great artist, Cabrera, they\nare able to tell of their chief literary glory--namely, the place\nand date of his baptism. Documents found in the royal university of\nMexico established the several facts that Juan Ruiz de Alarcon y\nMendoza was baptized in that city on the 2d day of October, 1572,\nand received the grade of licentiate or lawyer from the university.\nIt was for some time asserted that he was born at Tasco (for whose\nchurch Cabrera is said to have painted extraordinary works); but\nChalco, not far from the capital, has also laid claim to the honor\nof his birth. He is represented as short, ugly, and humpbacked. To\nimprove his fortunes, he sought the literary life of Madrid, but his\nfirst efforts were deemed of little importance. By the year 1621 he\nhad written eight acted comedies, of which _Las Paredes Oyen_ (The\nWalls Hear) is esteemed the best, as also one of the finest in any\nlanguage. In spite of his physical imperfections his genius won him\nadmirers, socially as well as otherwise. In 1628, he became clerk\nto the Council of the Indies, and held his office till his death in\n1639; so that it seems our author was a contemporary of Shakespeare,\nWebster, Jonson, and other great lights of the English drama. His\ncomedies are lauded as forming a system of practical philosophy,\ninasmuch as they give a delightful verification of the proverbial\nwisdom of his time, and preach capital sermons from common texts.\n\"Luck and Labor,\" \"The World's Favors,\" \"No Evil that does not come\nfor Good,\" \"Before you Marry see what you are about,\" \"The Truth made\nSuspicious,\" are the suggestive titles of some of his dramas, which\nappear to have lost nothing of their peculiar excellence by pointing\nmorals. It was Alarcon who said:\n\n      To kill an enemy is argument\n      Of fearing him; but to despise and spare him\n      Is greater chastisement, for while he lives\n      He is a witness of his own defeat.\n      He that kills, victory abbreviates,\n      And he that pardons makes it the more great,\n      As meanwhile that the conquered lives\n      The conqueror goes on conquering.\n\nTo give to comedy a conscience and a purpose is the distinguishing\ndesign of Alarcon; but, while the public of Madrid never failed to\nperceive the moral of his humor, they could yet heartily laugh at the\nwit of his dialogues and the genuine comicality of his situations.\nIn his plays cool reason walked hand in hand with sentiment and\npleasantry, as they do in some of the most admired comedies of our\nown stage. The delight with which the Mexicans witnessed _La Verdad\nSospechosa_ proved that to Alarcon belonged not merely the ingenuity\nby which men are amused, but something of that magic by which their\nown wit and humor are excited. Alarcon could give logic to a whim,\na fancy, or a passion. In the _Prueba de las Promesas_ his lover\nexpostulates:\n\n      If Beauty's faithful lover I have been,\n      Esteeming though despised; loving, abhorred;\n      What law allows to thee, what text approves\n      That thou shouldst hate me because I do love thee?\n\nAn apology for woman made by a servant in _Todo es Ventura_ (Luck is\nEverything) may be translated thus:\n\n      What is it that we most condemn in maids?\n      Inconstancy of mind? We taught them so.\n      The love of money? It's a thing in taste--\n      Or let that righteous fellow throw a stone\n      Who is not guilty of the self-same fault.\n      Of being easy? Well, what must they do,\n      If no man perseveres and all get tired\n      At the fourth day of trying? Of being hard?\n      Why do we thus complain when we, too, all\n      Run to extremes? If difficult our suit\n      We hate it, and if easy we despise.\n\nIn _Ganar Amigos_ (To Gain Friends) Don Fernando has killed the\nbrother of Don Fadrique, and seeks and obtains refuge with the\nlatter, who, however, does not know him. Don Fadrique, though at\nlength made aware of the truth, faithfully keeps the pledge he has\ngiven the slayer of his brother. Seeing this, Don Fernando gratefully\nexclaims:\n\n      The earth whereon thou stand'st shall be my altar.\n\n        _Fadrique._ Rise, sir; give me no thanks, as do I not\n      This deed for you, but for my honor's self,\n      For I have plighted unto you my word.\n\nIn the comedy of _Mudarse por Mejorarse_ (To Change for the Better;\nor, more literally, to Change in order to Better One's Self), a\ncertain Don Garcia, who was to marry Do\u00f1a Clara, falls in love with\nher niece Leonor; whence this dialogue:\n\n        _Leonor._ Is it, perchance, Don Garcia,\n      The custom in Madrid to fall in love\n      With niece and aunt at one and the same time?\n\n        _Garcia._ At least, if so divine a niece comes there\n      As you, the custom is to leave the aunt.\n\n        _Leonor._ A bad one, then.\n\n        _Garcia._                  It is not to be called\n      Bad, if such matter be the occasion.\n\n        _Leonor._ How can a reason be for changefulness?\n\n        _Garcia._ One's self to better is the best of reasons.\n\n        _Leonor._ Well, there's a law of constancy: to what\n      Doth it oblige, whereunto doth it reach,\n      If it be right one beauty to forswear\n      For a greater? Constancy's not to love\n      Unchangeably the love more beautiful;\n      To love the best what firmness do we need?\n      He constant is who doth despise the more\n      Happy occasion.\n\n        _Garcia._                 I confess, sweet lady\n      That's to be constant, but it's to be foolish.\n\n        _Leonor._ Then cannot you in one who'd be discreet\n      Have confidence, as change is to be excused\n      By gain of fairer subject?\n\n        _Garcia._                        It is clear.\n\n        _Leonor._ Well, be it so; and for I think thee, sir,\n      A man judicious, and thou leav'st my aunt\n      To make thyself the better so by me,\n      Pray do excuse me of thy love, since must\n      I give thy suit resistance till I know\n      If I've another and a fairer niece.\n\nThe discreet Leonor, compromised by the entangling suit of Don\nGarcia, is compelled to admit the attentions of a gallant and rich\nmarquis, with whom at last she falls in love. The following passage\nexplains the rest:\n\n        _Garcia._                    How, cruel one,\n      Hast changed so soon?\n\n        _Leonor._             Yes, for the better.\n\n        _Mencia_ (_aside_). She gave't him, then, with his own flower.\n\n        _Garcia._ Ungrateful, is not thy disdain enough\n      Without the aggravation--making him,\n      The marquis, better?\n\n        _Leonor._        Wilt deny the improvement?\n      Although in blood thou'rt equal, yet between\n      Little and ample fortune, and between\n      Your worship and your lordship--?\n\n        _Garcia._                       Yea, I grant:\n      But what effect hast given thy words,\n      Thy promise, tyrant, if thou hast all changed\n      By taking better subject? Where's constancy\n      If thou hast liked me only when thou couldst not\n      _Better_ thyself? She only constant is\n      Who doth despise the opportunity.\n\n        _Leonor._ I do confess to thee, Don Garcia,\n      That's to be constant, but it's to be foolish.\n\nHere is the \"retort courteous\" in its most charming humor. The\ngallant grace and wit of these dialogues are evidence of the original\nart with which Alarcon could make his comedy a study of life, and\ncompel his auditors to think somewhat after they ceased to laugh.\nThis is the function of eminent high comedy, though we may not ask\nthat it shall elaborate a severe or intrusive moral, and though we\nadmit its possession, as in Shakespeare, of the liveliest poetic\nqualities. Another passage, this time from the famous _Verdad\nSospechosa_, wherein Don Beltran reprimands his son, Don Garcia, for\nthe vice of habitual lying, will further elucidate the method of\nAlarcon:\n\n        _Beltran._ Are you a gentleman, Garcia?\n\n        _Garcia._                       --I believe\n      I am your son.\n\n        _Beltran._     --And is it, then, enough,\n      To be my son to be a gentleman?\n\n        _Garcia._ I think so, sir.\n\n        _Beltran._          --What a mistaken thought!\n      Consists in acting like a gentleman\n      To be one. What gave birth to noble houses!\n      The illustrious deeds of their first authors, sir.\n      Without consideration of their births, the deeds\n      Of humble men honored their heirs. 'Tis doing\n      Good or ill makes gentleman or villain.\n\n        _Garcia._ That deeds give nobleness I'll not deny,\n      But who will say birth does not also give it?\n\n        _Beltran._ Well, then, if honor can be gained by him\n      Who was born without it, is't not certain that,\n      Vice versa, he can lose it who was born\n      With it?\n\n        _Garcia._ --'Tis true.\n\n        _Beltran._         --Then if you basely act,\n      Although my son, no longer you will be\n      A gentleman. So if your habits shame\n      You here in town, an ancient crest will not\n      Signify, nor noble ancestors serve.\n      What is't report says to me? That your lies\n      Are all the talk of Salamanca. Now,\n      If't affronts noble or plebeian but\n      To _tell_ him that he lies, what is't to lie\n      Itself? If honorless I live the while\n      On him who gave the lie I take not full\n      Revenge--is your sword long enough or breast\n      So stout that you esteem yourself all able\n      To have revenge when all the city says\n      You lie? Is't possible a man can have\n      Such abject thoughts that unto vice he can\n      Live subject without pleasure, without gain?\n      A morbid pleasure have the sensual,\n      The power of money draws the covetous;\n      The taste of viands have the gluttonous;\n      A purpose and a pastime hath the gambler;\n      The homicide his hate, the thief his aim;\n      Fame with ambition cheers the warrior;\n      In short, doth every vice some pleasure give\n      Or profit--but for lying, what remains\n      But infamy and contempt?\n\nWho could preach with more wit a brief sermon like this than Alarcon?\nIt is no small honor to the dramatist born in Mexico that the great\nCorneille, who, if we may credit the biographers of Alarcon, partly\ntranslated and partly imitated _La Verdad Sospechosa_ in his famous\n_Menteur_, could avow that he would give two of his best plays to\nhave invented the happy argument of the Spanish original. Moli\u00e8re\nand Voltaire were also among the admirers of the Spanish comedy,\nwhich Corneille at first judged to be the work of Lope de Vega. Of\nthe general merits of Alarcon, the following estimate by his German\ncritic, Schack, which we find in a Mexican notice of the dramatist,\nwill doubtless suffice: \"Happy in painting comic characters in order\nto chastise vice, as in the invention and development of heroes to\nmake virtue adorable; rapid in action, sober in ornament; inferior\nto Lope in tender respect of feminine creations, to Moreto in\nliveliest comedy, to Firso in travesty, to Calderon in grandeur and\nstage effect, he excelled all of them in the variety and perfection\nof his figures, in the tact of managing them, in equality of style,\nin carefulness of versification, in correctness of language.\" To\nthis large and discriminating praise we may add George Ticknor's\ncomprehensive dictum: \"On the whole, he is to be ranked with the\nvery best Spanish dramatists during the best period of the National\nTheatre.\"\n\n\nSOR JUANA INEZ DE LA CRUZ.\n\nIt would not be proper to dismiss from the list of Spanish-American\ndramatic writers Sor Juana Inez de la Cruz, although the subjects to\nwhich this pious woman yielded her inventive imagination were mainly\nor wholly religious. She wrote, be it remembered, in that remarkable\nseventeenth century when a muse of religion walked through the scenes\nof the stage as well as through the gardens of the convent. Then\nwere the patriarchs and apostles, the prophets and saints, the chief\npersonages of a peculiar drama; and events and circumstances of the\ndivine tragedy inspired such compositions as the Loas and Autos. It\nis upon one of these latter compositions that her merit as a dramatic\nwriter rests; and we are glad to confirm in great part an opinion of\nher genius hitherto expressed by us, by here recalling the judgment\nof that eminent European critic of Spanish literature, Bouterwek,\nthe more especially as our own Spanish scholar, Ticknor, seems to\nhave inflicted such ungracious disparagement upon the subject of our\nnotice: \"Much as Inez de la Cruz was deficient in real cultivation,\"\nsays Bouterwek, \"her productions are eminently superior to the\nordinary standard of female poetry.... The poems of Inez de la\nCruz breathe a sort of masculine spirit. This poetic nun possessed\nmore fancy and wit than sentimental enthusiasm, and whenever she\nbegan to invent her creations were on a bold and great scale. Her\npoems are of very unequal merit, and are all deficient in critical\ncultivation. But in facility of invention and versification Inez de\nla Cruz was _not inferior to Lope de Vega_; and yet she by no means\ncourted literary fame.... In her dramatic works the vigor of her\nimagination is particularly conspicuous. The collection of her poems\ncontains no comedies properly so-called, but it comprises a series\nof boldly conceived preludes (loas) full of allegorical invention,\nand it concludes with a long allegorical auto, which is _superior to\nany of the similar productions of Lope de Vega_. It is entitled _El\nDivino Narciso_, a name by which the author designates the heavenly\nbridegroom.... It would be impossible to give a brief and at the same\ntime intelligible sketch of this extraordinary drama. With regard to\ncomposition, it is very unequal; in some respects offending by its\nbad taste, and in others charming by its boldness. Many of its scenes\nare so beautifully and romantically constructed that the reader is\ncompelled to render homage to the genius of the poetess, while at the\nsame time he cannot but regret the pitch of extravagance to which\nideas really poetic are carried. There is one peculiarly fine scene,\nin which human nature, in the shape of a nymph, seeks her beloved,\nthe real Narcissus, or the Christian Saviour.\" The pastoral passage,\nwhich in our notice of the writings of Sor Juana we laid before our\nreaders, would seem to justify the best praises of our literary\nhistorian, Bouterwek. Ticknor, on the other hand, speaks of her as\na remarkable woman, and not as a remarkable poetess; and, upon the\nwhole, our thanks for the appreciative reburnishing of the ancient\nfame of an American genius--which, had it shone in Massachusetts\nthree hundred years ago, would be deemed a very rare jewel among\nNorthern scholars--are due rather to the European Bouterwek than\nthe American Ticknor. The latter observes that she was born at\nGuipuzcoa; her Mexican biographer says at San Miguel de Nepantla, not\nfar from the city of Mexico, one of whose convents she seems to have\ndirected latterly. Time, place, the inferior standard of feminine\nculture, and the prevalence of a false poetic school, may account for\nSor Juana's defects; for the rest, the issue (a large one) is between\nBouterwek and Ticknor.\n\n\nEDWARD GOROSTIZA.\n\nAfter Alarcon, the principal lights of the actual Mexican stage are\nGorostiza, Calderon, and Galvan; and, indeed, whatever original\ntriumph that stage has enjoyed is almost if not quite limited to\nthese few excellent though not glorious names. We cannot with\npropriety name that extraordinary woman, Sor Juana Inez de la\nCruz, in the list of Mexico's dramatists, although, along with\nother poetry, she wrote some religious pieces in dramatic form.\nNevertheless, the credit which remains to the literature of the\ncountry, after its few phenomenal names are omitted, is not\ninappreciable. Concerning Gorostiza, Madame Calderon de la Barca\nwrote: \"Don Jos\u00e9 Eduardo Gorostiza, a native of Vera Cruz, is the son\nof a Spanish officer, and when very young went to Spain, where he was\nknown politically as a liberal. He was distinguished as a writer of\ntheatrical pieces, which have been and still are very popular. One of\nhis pieces which we saw the other evening at the theatre--_Con Tigo\nPan y Cebolla_ (With Thee, Bread and Onions)--is delightful.\" Let us\nadd to Madame Calderon's brief notice that Gorostiza won the rank of\nlieutenant-colonel in the war against Napoleon; that in 1823, while\nan exile from Spain in London, he wrote for the _Edinburgh Review_;\nand that since then, as minister to England and to the United States,\nand as secretary of state and finance, he has been eminent in the\npolitics of his native land. In 1836, he was made intendant-general\nof the army, and during the war between Mexico and the United States\ntook an active and heroic part in the defence of Churubusco. His\nefforts as a director of the poor-house, as a friend of education,\nand as the founder of a house of correction, are also deemed worthy\nof record. He died in 1851, at the age of sixty-two.\n\nThe best known of Gorostiza's comedies are those called _The Intimate\nFriend_, _Last Year's Fashions_, _Don Dieguito_, and _Pardon for\nAll_, the last being mentioned by his biographer as celebrated. In\nthe play of _Don Dieguito_, which may serve as well as any other\nto exhibit the character of Gorostiza's plots, Don Anselmo, a\nrich uncle, sends his nephew and heir, Don Dieguito, to Madrid to\ncomplete his education. While there, Dieguito falls in love with\nDo\u00f1a Adelaida, whose father, Don Cleto, is a lawyer. Don Anselmo\ngoes to Madrid to attend the wedding of his nephew, but does not\nlike the family of his son's _fianc\u00e9e_, and, accordingly, he schemes\nto break off the match. The mother, Do\u00f1a Maria, sees from a worldly\npoint of view the great advantage of her daughter's marriage with Don\nDieguito. But now Anselmo tells her that _he_ intends to marry, which\nexcites her fear that his nephew will inherit nothing from him. She,\ntherefore, proposes to her husband that Do\u00f1a Adelaida shall marry\nthe uncle, Anselmo, instead of the nephew, Dieguito. Don Simplicio,\na friend of Don Cleto, endeavors to effect a general reconciliation\nof interests, and bring about the marriage of the young couple; but,\nfinding that father and mother alike wish to break off the match,\njoins them in insulting the apparently hapless Dieguito. Don Anselmo\nat once perceives that his nephew has been fooled, and that the\nfamily of his betrothed would be glad to cast off Dieguito in order\nto capture his uncle's wealth. He concludes, therefore, to make his\nexit on the very day of the proposed marriage, taking with him his\ndisenchanted nephew. When the day arrives, he announces that he has\nbeen ruined by the shipwreck of a vessel from Vera Cruz, and that he\nis compelled to return to his old business of selling pork, beans,\nchocolate, and sausages to make good his loss. Don Dieguito, though\nasked to return to his allegiance as a lover, declares that he is no\nfool, and prefers a wife who will not speculate at the expense of\ngood faith, but will look after her children. As Don Anselmo has told\nthe family of Do\u00f1a Adelaida that his principal loss is in a cargo of\nchocolate, that spirited young lady vows she will not drink chocolate\nagain; and the play ends in amusing recriminations.\n\n\nFERNANDO CALDERON.\n\nThe next of our dramatists, Fernando Calderon, was born in 1809,\nand died at the age of thirty-six, having been a colonel, a state\nlegislator, a magistrate, and the secretary of the government of\nZacatecas, as well as an industrious writer. The most striking of\nhis dramas are: _The Tourney_, _Anne Boleyn_, and _The Return of\nthe Crusader_, which, says one of his admirers, are full of noble\nand chivalrous sentiments and spirited action. Calderon's talent\nwas nothing if not dramatic; for even his lyrics, and especially\nhis _Soldier of Liberty_, are characterized by a personal fire and\nanimation. His plays, remarkable for warmth of sentiment, and his\npoems, chiefly lyrical, gained for him not only in Mexico, but in\nother Spanish-American republics, a degree of favor not often enjoyed\nby writers in the southern part of the New World. One of his most\nadmired passages is the soliloquy of Isabella in _The Tourney_:\n\n      And this is life. Seeing the sable bier\n      Profoundest cowardice the mortal moves,\n      When is the tomb the sole asylum where\n      True peace abides. Where is the life that knows\n      Not weight of woe? For ever in torment,\n      For ever in tears, so runs our human fate\n      From infancy unto decrepit age.\n      Child, man, and most unfortunate womankind,\n      Pursue the magic and illusory shade\n      Which they call happiness, yet never find.\n      The gray-beard sad, complaining of his age,\n      Youth would enjoy; but, imbecile, forgets\n      The tortures that afflict his junior.\n      Life is a fever, a remediless fever,\n      It is a frenzy violent and mad.\n      Alas! its pleasures pass us like a flash,\n      Whence follows gloom of soul with rain of tears\n      Yet ever springs desire and fervid hope\n      To cheat our souls with what can never be.\n      Care and vacuity, and ephemeral joy.\n      These make themselves our poor reality.\n      So fades our youth, and our declining life's\n      A dismal light of undeception cast\n      Upon the narrow confines of the tomb....\n      The black cloth ... and the coffin miserable ...\n      Thus darkly flows the tide of life. Alas!\n      My end draws near, for which my spirit hopes,\n      As the wrecked sailor for a happy shore.\n      O cause of all my mourning my heart's balm,\n      Not thou, not even thou, wouldst me console:\n      None grieve for one that is already dead.\n      Albert! Albert! shalt thou o'er my grave\n      Pour out thy tears until our patient souls\n      Unite within the pure eternity.\n\nWith good reason is this thoughtful and feeling soliloquy prized by\nCalderon's countrymen, whose vicissitudes have taught them peculiar\nsympathy with the tristful mood to which he lends expression. The\ntone and style of the passage are tragic in a most dignified sense,\nand reflect much credit upon Mexican literature. A supplement to\nthe views of mortality and eternity set forth in _The Tourney_ is\ncontained in a fragment written by Calderon in 1825; and as it may\ninterest a Northern public to know what a Mexican poet thinks of the\nfuture state, we extract from it these hopeful lines:\n\n      Cold and coward spirits\n      Shun the thought of death\n      With unbelieving fear,\n      Vain-thinking that within the grave\n      Have love and joy their end.\n      Dullards! who believe not\n      The eternity divine!\n      The disembodied spirit\n      Ascends to regions high\n      Of freedom and of bliss,\n      And love's sweet sentiment,\n      A seed sown in our souls,\n      Doubt not God's hand doth guard it\n      And lead it up to him.\n      The soul but breathes in love,\n      Which is its essence and its food,\n      And without love would die.\n\n\nRODRIGUEZ GALVAN.\n\nMore praiseworthy, in some respects, than any of the modern poets of\nMexico, is Rodriguez Galvan, the last of our trio of dramatists. He\ndied in 1842, in his twenty-sixth year, after having without social\nadvantages acquired a high reputation as a lyrical and dramatic\nwriter. \"At eleven years,\" says his biographer, \"he was placed under\nthe care of his uncle, in a book-store at the capital,\" and there his\nnightly studies made up for the impediments of his daily occupation,\nand \"his happy disposition and love for work supplied the want of\nmasters and fortune.\" An epical fragment entitled \"The Fallen Angel,\"\nand his poems, \"The Tomb,\" and \"The Girandole,\" together with his\ndramas, \"Mu\u00f1oz\" and \"The Viceroy's Favorite,\" are mentioned as the\nmost noted of his productions. A specimen of his dramatic style is\nthe following piece of satire on the modern stage, from _El Angel de\nla Guarda_:\n\n      Let's think upon my comedy, and on\n      Its plan. Hard, cruel hard, on all who are\n      Romantic. Here's a coxcomb come from Rome\n      Or Paris; next, an old man, ignorant,\n      Foolish, his friend a most judicious fellow;\n      A fine romantic maid who weeps and shrieks\n      In Turkish; then, three hundred obscene gags\n      To make the people laugh; a prudish dame\n      Who speaks French badly. Here's the knot.\n      And the conclusion? Why, a whistle from\n      The second prompter.\n                             --Or, I will erect\n      Like to a gallows a cadaverous drama\n      Shock-full of hangings and adulteries,\n      In which _the seven infants_ shall be shown\n      The children of a king of Acapulco.\n      This nauseous food I'll call a play-romance,\n      And I'll divide it into four square parts,\n      Which further I'll divide in five full acts,\n      The scene in Aragon, the fifteenth century.\n      My sources shall be dramas of Dumas\n      And Hugo, the immoral ones of course.\n      What does it matter? I translate them mine.\n      A stupid fellow comes out and drinks in\n      Half of a tub of poison--gives the rest\n      Straight to his maid, because a vain old man\n      Comes with a trumpet-tongue to blow and blow\n      In his poor ears. The ignorant hind don't know\n      For two hours whether he is dead or not,\n      And in the place of calling upon God\n      He makes a long discourse. This is the way\n      They make our plays, and in this age of taste\n      Calderon, Moreto, Alarcon, Lope,\n      Are only mules; and in the theatre\n      Their works shed slumber by the bucketful.\n\nIt would require, perhaps, an intimate knowledge of the Mexican stage\nas it was thirty years ago to appreciate the special application of\nthese lines; but it is plain that the young dramatist conceived a\ngenuine contempt for a bloodthirsty and iniquitous drama. What, then,\nmust a writer of his promise and aspirations have felt regarding\nthat more bitter melodrama acted all round him?--what must any\npoet with a tolerable amount of contemplative wisdom have thought\nof that political madness of which Mexico has been so long the\nvictim? Certainly, it robbed them, as it robbed others, of peace\nand recompense; but war respects the stage even when it destroys\nbetter institutions, and it is probable that the dramatic culture of\nMexico is as well preserved as any of which it can boast. To Galvan\nis ascribed the first effective production on the Mexican stage of\nMexican subjects. Whether the following fable bears a more than\nordinary social meaning, we cannot say; but it is an instance of the\npoet's lively manner:\n\nTHE SELFISH DOG.\n\n      With pike and lantern at sundown,\n      A grim night-watchman of the town\n      Follows a lean dog as he flees\n      By order of the high police,\n      Who persecute the dogs and tramps,\n      And take up drinking, murdering scamps,\n      But tolerate the robbers. Well,\n      What matter? I've my tale to tell.\n      The starveling, feeling insecure,\n      Because a stranger, poor, demure,\n      Said, \"Feet, what do I want you for?\"\n      So, in a princely courtyard door,\n      Without \"Good-day!\" or e'en explaining,\n      \"I must go in because it's raining,\"\n      Or sending up his card at all,\n      As etiquette requires on call,\n      Or does not--really, I don't know--\n      He rudely entered. So I'd go\n      Myself. But a cur thereabout\n      Barked hard at him, \"Get out! get out!\n      This is a noble's palace, sir,\n      A place not meet for starving cur.\"\n      Our friend replies, \"My fine-tailed brother,\n      But for this night--\" \"No, no!\" says t'other.\n      \"I am pursued!\" \"Then leave this ground.\"\n      \"I'm dying with hunger.\" \"Wretched hound,\n      How can a fine, superior person\n      Live tail to tail with a base cur's son?\"\n      And insult after insult giving,\n      He barks with fury past believing,\n      This high-born, proud, patrician growler,\n      And bullies the plebeian prowler.\n      Well, the sad creature, turning tail,\n      Escaped, for wonder, else would fail\n      My story like a peacock shorn.\n      Where now's my moral? Hark, nor scorn:\n\n      Soon after this a dog forlorn\n      Lost himself in the chase, and met\n      Some wolves whose teeth were sharply set,\n      And quite prepared to munch and gobble him.\n      All sorts of fearful fancies trouble him,\n      When, in this plight, his eye sees plain in\n      The kennel of the other canine.\n      Lo, what an accident! But these\n      Accidents pass for verities\n      And mightily the public please.\n      Now the patrician barks for aid,\n      And t'other dog puts out his head,\n      But, seeing 'tis the courtier,\n      He shuts the door, that low-bred cur,\n      And growls: \"Stop there! didst ever see\n      A dog of noble family\n      With a poor cur keep company?\"\n      With this the hungry wolves arrive\n      And eat the grandee dog alive.\n\n      Has the tale pleased you? No? And why?\n      I've spent an hour and half to try,\n      Hunting up rhymes--so scarce in Spanish.\n      Some opulent fellow, proud and clannish\n      Spelling through this little story\n      (For reading's not a common glory\n      Among the magnates of the day),\n      Will, doubtless, furiously say:\n      \"See what sad insipidity!\"\n      But some poor dog in misery\n      Will raise his head, perhaps, and sigh,\n      \"The simple fabulist don't lie.\"\n      Now friend and critic both have I.\n\nThere is nothing in Galvan's story except his way of telling it,\nwhich is certainly vivacious; but we esteem it for some flashes of\nsatirical meaning cast upon a state of society of whose animal life\nthe \"hungry dog\" is so commonplace an object. Not, however, in his\nplays, which, if we may credit his Mexican critic, sometimes reveal a\ncertain immaturity, did Galvan find his very happiest expression. He\nwrote the most touching and charming lyric which, after much search,\nwe have been able to find in Mexican literature. It was, we are led\nto think, in 1842, when, as one of a \"legation extraordinary\" to\nSouth America, he sailed for Havana, there to die of fever, that he\nwrote the tender \"Farewell to Mexico\" which his countrymen love to\nrepeat:\n\n      Upon the deck with longing\n        I watch the lonely main,\n      And on my fate I ponder\n        And muse in doubt and pain\n      To thee I yield my fortunes,\n        O Holy Maid above!\n      Adieu, my own dear country,\n        Adieu, thou land of love!\n\n      Far in the western waters\n        The red sun hides its light,\n      And now at last 'tis buried\n        Beneath the billows' might.\n      The roaring sea announces\n        The weary day's decline:\n      Adieu, beloved country,\n        Adieu, thou land of mine!\n\n\nAVELLA\u00d1EDA AND MILANES.\n\nThere is more of this excellent lyric, but we let it pass in order to\nbring to a moment's attention a few of the most distinguished Cuban\nand South American dramatic writers. We nowhere discern the evidence\nof a luxurious dramatic growth among our tropical contemporaries; but\nas, in the most advanced and varied circles of our own literature,\nthe drama holds but an inferior modern regard, we cannot deem this\nfact as peculiarly indicative. Almost chief among the writers of Cuba\nis Do\u00f1a Avella\u00f1eda, to whom we owe the novels of _Sab_, the _Baroness\nof Youx_, the American romance of _Guatimozin_, and the _Undine of\nthe Blue Lake_. She wrote four dramas, one of which, her tragedy of\n_Alfonso Munio_, is said to have made her famous. For one of her\npoems she received a crown of gold laurels from the lyceum of Madrid,\nand her Catholic devotion was signally manifested by her poem of the\n_Cross_ and her Biblical drama of _Saul_. Surely, a most prolific,\nindustrious, and vigorous writer was La Avella\u00f1eda, as her countrymen\nadmiringly call her, notwithstanding her Isabellist attachments.\nTo the name of Avella\u00f1eda let us add that of Jos\u00e9 Jacinto Milanes\nas among the ornaments of Cuban literature. His drama of _Conde\nAlarcos_, founded upon the celebrated Spanish tradition of the\nname, is noted by Ticknor for its passionate energy. Milanes seemed\nto delight in the themes and scenes of his own country; but his\nusefulness as a writer was cut short, we are informed, by a wasting\ninfirmity.\n\n\nSANSON, MAGARINOS, AND MARQUEZ.\n\nPlacido Sanson, Magarinos Cervantes, and Se\u00f1or Marquez are among the\nmost conspicuous South American dramatists we can now call to mind.\nMagarinos Cervantes was born in Montevideo in 1825, and, besides the\nnovels of _Caramuru_ and _The Star of the South_, has written the\ndramas of _Vasco Nu\u00f1ez_ and the _Two Passions_, besides the comedy of\n_Percances Matrimoniales_. He was one of the principal editors of an\nartistic and scientific cyclop\u00e6dia printed in Madrid, and was once\ndescribed as the youngest and most productive of well-known South\nAmerican writers. Sanson, who was born in Santa Cruz de Teneriffe,\n1815, has written ten or eleven dramas, among them _Abenhamet_ and\n_Herman Peraza_, and has been an exceedingly industrious editor and\ntranslator. Se\u00f1or Marquez, who was noticed fifteen years ago as a\nyoung poet of Lima, but twenty-three years of age, yet of exceeding\npromise, was known as the author of a drama which derived its title\nfrom the beautiful legend of _The Flower of Abel_.\n\nThis flower of dramatic poetry, as its warm admirers regard it,\ncontains a charming and even what we might call a religious moral.\nOne of the best known of its Peruvian critics described it as among\nthe most spiritual creations of the day; a defense of innocence and\ncharity in a heroic combat against the worldly selfishness which\ndevours us; and Markham, to whose good taste we are indebted for\ninformation respecting the ancient and modern literature of Peru,\naffirms that its plot is original and ingenious, and that it is\nfull of good passages. Abel, the first victim of selfishness, is\ndescribed as \"the mysterious messenger of celestial compassion,\"\nan angel of innocence. The innocent daughter of a proud and aged\nveteran becomes the possessor of the angel's flower of Abel--in\nother words, the blossom of innocence. This the heavenly visitor\npresents to her in a vision, warning her never to lose nor abandon\nit, nor let it leave its place in her bosom. But, eventually, the\nfair girl loses the flower, and wanders far and wide over the world\nin search of it, passing through many dangers, for she is unprotected\nand very beautiful. At length, she reaches her mother's grave, and,\nwearied and imploring, falls at the feet of an image of the Blessed\nVirgin, in whose hands she once more beholds her lost Flower of Abel.\nProstrate before the altar of the Queen of Heaven, the spirit of\nElena abandons the body, and is conducted to the skies by Abel, who\nrecovers the mysterious flower and the pure soul of the maiden.\n\nReflecting that our own American dramatic literature can claim not\nmany successful writers, the portion of Spanish America, in respect\nto the dramatists we have described, cannot be deemed contemptible.\nWe have much yet to learn of our sister republics, painful though\ntheir problem be to democratic thinkers; and we cannot look through a\nmore necessary and suggestive medium than their literature to become\nacquainted with their moral capacities and possibilities.\n\n\n\n\nALBERTUS MAGNUS VINDICATED.\n\n\nA most striking embellishment to the text of a literary article is\na deep row of citations at the foot of the page. The effect may be\nlikened to that of a broad trimming of lace to articles of dress.\nA lace of true point enhances the rich appearance of the costliest\ntissue, and a common stuff may be so set off by a Nottingham\ntrimming as to attract the gaze of all who are passing. If unable to\ndistinguish the true from the false, the gazer is astonished by the\ndisplay.\n\nStruck by the deep trimming of an article that appeared in a recent\nnumber of the _American Journal of the Medical Sciences_, we examined\nit thoroughly from the beginning to the end. After perusal, we laid\nit down with a warm recollection of the speech of the country member\nin the Wisconsin legislature, who, after listening to an eloquent\noration filled with classical quotations, arose, and said: \"Mr.\nSpeaker, the honorable gentleman has roamed with Romulus, soaked with\nSocrates, ripped with Euripides, and canted with old Cantharides, but\nwhat has all that to do with the laws of Wisconsin?\"\n\nIt would, however, be entirely out of place in us to call attention\nto this article, were it not for a most extraordinary sentence which\nit contains, and upon this we feel bound by many considerations,\namongst which our reverence for truth and love of propriety, to make\nsome observations. The sentence referred to is as follows:\n\n\"About the year 1240, at the solicitation of an inquisitive priest,\nAlbertus Magnus, the Bishop of Ratisbon, wrote a very unepiscopal\nwork on the _Secrets of Women_. It contains much prurient matter\nwhich will hardly bear translation, and yet was deemed worthy of a\ncommentary by so devout an ecclesiastic as St. Thomas Aquinas.\"[157]\n\nIn this sentence, in which two great and good men are thus spoken of,\nwe maintain that there are at least three glaring misstatements: the\nfirst, that the work _De Secretis Mulierum_ was written by the Bishop\nof Ratisbon, Albertus Magnus, about the year 1240; the second, that\nAlbertus Magnus wrote the work--positive affirmation of that fact, as\nif there were no doubt of its authenticity; and the third, that St.\nThomas Aquinas ever wrote a commentary on it.\n\n_First Misstatement._--That the work was written about the year 1240,\nby Albertus Magnus, Bishop of Ratisbon, and therefore that it was the\nproduction of a bishop, although very unepiscopal in its nature.\nWe premise a short sketch of his life, compiled from the Protestant\nCave (_Historia Literaria_, S\u00e6culum Scholasticum, \u00a71260): Albertus,\nsurnamed the Great, a German, was born in the year 1205. He studied\nat Padua. In the year 1221, he joined the Friar Preachers. He was\nconsidered the greatest theologian, philosopher, and mathematician\nof his day. He excelled especially in mathematics. In the year 1236,\non the death of the general of the order, he governed the same for\ntwo years as vicar. He afterward became provincial of his order in\nGermany, fixing his residence at Cologne, where also he taught with\ngreat applause. In the beginning of the year 1260, he was appointed\nBishop of Ratisbon by Alexander IV., and was obliged, against his\nwill, to undertake that responsibility. He held the same for only\nthree years, when, wearied out by its duties, he resigned the\ndignity, and returned to his beloved monastery of Cologne, where he\nspent his old age in the delights of study. He died in the year 1280.\nSuch is the substance of Cave's biography. Although there is some\ndoubt as to the date of his birth, all agree that he was made bishop\nin the year 1260, and that during that time he had enough to do in\nthe affairs of his diocese. The work in question, written about the\nyear 1240, cannot, therefore, be rightly styled unepiscopal. Besides,\nall the editions that attribute the work to Albertus say that it was\nwritten by him whilst stopping in Paris. Thus, in the notes added by\nsome unknown author to the editions of 1601 and 1637 these words are\nfound: \"Ego Albertus morans Parisiis\"--\"I, Albert, staying in Paris.\"\nThe first words of the text are, \"Dilecto sibi,\" etc. As a bishop, we\nhave no record of his ever having been in Paris, much less stopping\nthere for a time. As a very old man, it is said that he made the\njourney once more from Cologne. After resigning his episcopate, he\nalways lived and taught at Cologne. We may therefore, with justice,\nput down the word _unepiscopal_ as inaccurate.\n\n_Second Misstatement._--The positive affirmation of the fact that\nAlbertus Magnus was the author of the work on the _Secrets of Women_.\nAdmitting that our examination has not been as exhaustive as it\nmight, owing to the want of facility in consulting many authorities\nwe should have desired to, what we shall produce we hope will be\nsufficient to place beyond doubt this one fact, that, if the work\nis not wholly to be rejected as that of Albertus Magnus, it must at\nleast be granted that it is very doubtful. Our opinion is that it is\nwholly supposititious. We have not found a single authority which\ndoes not admit that it is doubtful whether Albertus Magnus was the\nauthor of it; and the vast majority of critics and several intrinsic\narguments prove that his name, as the famous one of the age, was\naffixed to it to give it notoriety. These propositions we will now\nsubstantiate by negative and positive arguments, some extrinsic and\nothers intrinsic, drawn from the character of the author and of the\nwriting in question.\n\nAll admit that the authenticity of the work is called in question. We\nhave consulted at least eighteen distinct authorities in matters of\nbibliography, and have not found one making the positive affirmation\nof the fact; and some of our authorities, as, for instance, Cave\nand Fabricius, refer to every critic of note up to their time (Cave\nto no less than three hundred and seventy-two authors). Almost all\npositively deny that the work belongs to Albertus Magnus. Some make\nno mention of it at all when speaking of his life and labors. Others\nsay in general that many writings have been ascribed to Albertus, in\norder to give them notoriety, which, however, must be rejected as\nsupposititious. Thus, the _Encyclop\u00e6dia Britannica_, art. \"Albert,\"\nvol. i., p. 171, says: \"A detailed list of Albert's works, the\ngenuineness of many of which it is impossible to determine, is to be\nfound in the _Scriptores Ord. Pr\u00e6dicatorum_ of Qu\u00e9tif and Echard.\"\nMoreri, in his grand _Dictionnaire Historique_, has nothing at all\nabout the book, and yet he speaks at length of Albertus and his\nworks. Appleton's _American Encyclop\u00e6dia_ makes no mention of it;\nneither does Hallam, who would not have passed by such a book, for\nhe speaks expressly of Albertus's influence on medical studies.\nThe Regensburg _Universal Realen Encyclopedie_, edition 1850, art.\n\"Albertus Magnus,\" says: \"Sehr viele Schrifter wurden ihm sp\u00e4ter\nf\u00e4lschlich beigelegt\"--\"Very many works were at a later period\nfalsely ascribed to him.\"\n\nThese authorities are, however, purely negative. We shall now bring\nforward the positive proofs for the same fact: _a._ Critics. _b._\nBrunet. _c._ Encyclop\u00e6dias. _d._ Historians. _e._ Biographies. _f._\nEditions.\n\n_a._ _Critics._--It will be enough to bring forward Fabricius, Boyle,\nand Cave, all unexceptionable authorities. Fabricius, Lipsiensis\nProfessor, _Bibliotheca Latina medi\u00e6 et infim\u00e6 \u00e6tatis_, after\nreferring to all the subjects treated of in the twenty-one folio\nvolumes of the Lyons edition, the only complete one ever published,\nspeaks of the works which must be rejected, and among them he\nplaces \"_Liber de Secretis Secretorum, sive de Secretis Mulierum,\ns\u00e6pe editus sed suppositus Alberto, qui plus simplici vice in eo\ncitatur_\"--\"The book on the _Secret of Secrets_, or on the _Secrets\nof Women_, often published but fathered on Albertus, who is more\nthan once quoted in it.\" Boyle certainly will not be accused of any\npartiality for the great Catholic doctors of scholasticism. In a long\narticle on Albertus Magnus, he has these words: \"I shall particularly\nmention some falsities that have been reported about him. It has been\nsaid that he delivered women, and it was taken very ill that a man of\nhis profession should do the office of a midwife. The ground of this\nstory is that there was a book under the name of Albertus Magnus,\ncontaining several instructions for midwives, and so much knowledge\nof their art that it seemed he could not have been so well skilled in\nthat trade if he had not exercised it. But the apologists of Albertus\nmaintained that he is not the author of that book, nor of that _De\nSecretis Mulierum_.\" He here refers to a note in which he explains\nas follows: \"The book _De Secretis Mulierum_, wrongfully ascribed\nto Albertus, is the work of one of his disciples, who is called\nHenricus de Saxonia, with whose name it has been printed more than\nonce. Here are Simler's words: '_Henricus de Saxonia, Alberti Magni\ndiscipuli, liber de Secretis Mulierum impressus August\u00e6_,' A.D. 1498,\nper Antonium Surg.; and in the _Catalogue of Thuanus's Library_ you\nwill find, '_Henrici de Saxonia, de Secretis Mulierum, de virtutibus\nherbarum, lapidum quorumdam animalium aliorumque_, 12mo, Francof.,\n1615.' It is plain that Albertus's name, more famous than that of\nHenry, gave occasion to that supposition.\" Thus far Boyle.\n\nCave in his _Historia Literaria_ makes no mention of the work as\nbelonging to Albertus.\n\n_b._ Brunet, the great authority on books and editions, in his\n_Manuel du Libraire_, says: \"_De Secretis Mulierum_, opus 1478,\nin 4o, premi\u00e8re \u00e9dition de cet ouvrage, _mal-\u00e0-propos attribu\u00e9_ \u00e0\nAlbert-le-grand\"--\"_De Secretis Mulierum_, 1478, 4to, first edition\nof this work, wrongfully attributed to Albert the Great.\"\n\n_c._ _Encyclop\u00e6dias._--_Edinburgh Encyclop\u00e6dia_, conducted by David\nBrewster, edition of 1832, art. \"Albertus Magnus:\" \"The treatise _De\nSecretis Mulierum_, etc., generally ascribed to him, was written by\none of his disciples, Henricus de Saxonia.\" _Penny Encyclop\u00e6dia_,\nLondon, 1833: \"There are also collections of supposed _secrets_ which\nhave erroneously been published under his name; among others, one _De\nSecretis Mulierum et Natur\u00e6_, printed at Amsterdam, in 1655, which is\nbelieved to have been written by one of his disciples.\" _Chambers's\nEncyclop\u00e6dia_ rejects the work also as supposititious.\n\n_d._ _Historians._--Natalis Alexander, _Hist. Ecc._, S\u00e6culum\nXIII., on \"Albertus Magnus,\" concludes his notice thus: \"Liber _De\nMirabilibus_ vanitate et superstitione refertus, Alberto Magno\nsuppositus est, inquit Debrio, _Disquisitionum Magicarum_, cap. 3.\nLibrum _De Secretis Mulierum_ nec ipsius est nec docti cujuspiam esse\ncensuerunt Medici Lovanienses, ut refert Molanus in _Bibliotheca\nSacra_\"--\"The book _De Mirabilibus_, filled with nonsense and\nsuperstition, has been falsely ascribed to Albertus Magnus, says\nDebrio in his work _Essays on Magic_, cap. 3. The Medical Faculty of\nthe University of Louvain gave as their opinion that the book _De\nSecretis Mulierum_ is not his nor that of any learned man, as Molanus\nrelates in his _Bibliotheca Sacra_.\"\n\nRaynoldus, in his _Cronaca_, the great continuation of the _Annals\nof Baronius_, under the year 1260, paragraph 15th, says: \"Hic vero\nlectorem diligenter monitum velim plura passim Alberti Magni nomine\nscripta circumferri, qu\u00e6 ab ipso nunquam emanasse exploratum est;\ncum magica superstitione sint f\u0153data, sed ad conciliandum rei vel\nfrivol\u00e6 vel scelest\u00e6 auctoritatem, piissimi et sapientis viri nomine\nsubornati simplicibus obtruduntur\"--\"We wish here particularly to\nwarn the reader that there are many writings extant attributed to\nAlbertus Magnus, which, it is clear, never emanated from his pen; for\nthey are filled with magical superstition; but to gain some authority\nfor a trifling or wicked work, they are palmed off on the ignorant\nunder the name of a most pious and learned man.\" Prof. Hefele, the\nGerman historian, in an article on Albertus Magnus in Wetzer and\nWelte's _Kirchen-Lexicon_, concludes thus: \"Dem Albertus sind viele\nB\u00fccher unterschoben worden, z. B. _De Alchymia_ und _De Secretis\nMulierum_, u. dgl.\"--\"Many books have been fathered on Albert, _e.g._\n_De Alchymia_ and _De Secretis Mulierum_, etc.\" Cantri, the Italian\nhistorian, in his _Universal History_, expresses the same opinion in\nhis chapter on the \"Natural and Occult Sciences.\"\n\n_e._ _Biographies._--Feller, in his _Biographie Universelle_, says:\n\"Enfin, on a lui attribu\u00e9 de ridicules recueils des _Secrets_,\nauquels il n'a pas eu la moindre part. On y trouve m\u00eame des\nind\u00e9cences et des recherches aussi vaines que peu dignes d'une\nreligeux\"--\"Finally, a ridiculous collection of _Secrets_ have\nbeen attributed to him, with which he had nothing to do. Even\nobscene things are found in this collection, and investigations as\nfrivolous as they are unworthy of a religious.\" The French and German\nbiographies consulted by us agree in this same opinion.\n\n_f._ _Editions._--Dr. Atkinson, in his _Medical Biography_, mentions\nall the editions of the work from the first in 1478 to 1760. The\nfirst edition, 1478, is without the name of the place in which it\nwas printed; and of it we have seen the judgment of Brunet. The\neditions of 1480 and 1481 are without the name of either printer or\nplace. The edition of 1484, August\u00e6, comes out with Henry of Saxony\nas its author. Those of 1488 and 1498 also. The earliest editions,\ntherefore, cannot be quoted as making Albertus the author of the\nwork. It was only the editions of 1600 and those which followed that\nascribed the work to Albertus, and they were almost all printed in\nGermany or Holland. Does it not look as if party spirit had much to\ndo with these editions? The only complete edition of the works of\nAlbertus is that of the Rev. A. P. Peter Jammy, S.T.D., in twenty-one\nfolio volumes, printed at Lyons, 1651. This edition contains no\nmention of the book.\n\nIn the authorities thus far quoted, we have studiously avoided\nbringing forward any but those which are universally admitted as\nstandard. But even should the extrinsic testimony thus far given\nnot have been all on our side, we think the intrinsic evidence\nwould be quite sufficient to settle the question. To this point we\nwill now briefly direct attention. These intrinsic arguments are\ndrawn from the work itself and from the well-known character of\nAlbertus Magnus. The book or document was written somewhere about\nthe year 1240 or 1250, and was first printed in the year 1478. Its\ncomposition shows evidently that it was intended only for the person\nto whom it was directed; that it was merely a letter to a friend\nin answer to an obscure question proposed by him; in fine, that it\nwas not a treatise intended for preservation, but merely a familiar\ncorrespondence on the part of the writer to satisfy, as far as he\nwas able, the inquiries of his friend. Naud\u00e9, the critic, makes use\nof these two proofs to show that Albertus could not have written\nthe work. First, Albertus did not name himself in the beginning of\nthe work. He who commented upon it affirmed without any proof that\nAlbertus was its author. The text begins with these words: \"Delecto\nsibi in Christo socio et amico,\" etc.--\"To his beloved companion\nand friend in Christ. In the notes added to the edition of 1601 and\n1637 these words have been placed as a title: \"Ego Albertus morans\nParisiis\"--\"I, Albert, staying in Paris.\" The title has been affixed\ngratuitously and arbitrarily. The work is therefore anonymous.\nSecond, Albertus could not have written it, for his own authority is\noften made use of. We must remember that the document in question\nwas only a letter from one friend to another; and it certainly\nwould be strange for a man to quote his own well-known works at any\ntime, much less in a familiar correspondence. If he introduced them\nat all, it would be in some such form as this: \"as you will find\nin my work on,\" etc. The author of this letter quotes Albertus's\nauthority at least five times. We have verified the following in the\nedition of 1637, Argentorati: Page 49: \"That this may be understood,\nwe must note that there are four states of the moon, according to\nAlbertus in his treatise _De Statu Solis et Lun\u00e6_. Page 69, showing\nthe impossibility of a universal deluge, the author says: \"And we\nmust know that these things are not imaginary, because Albertus, on\nthe _Action and Effect of Lightning_, mentions,\" etc. Page 97, \"For\nAlbertus mentions just as,\" etc. Page 109, \"As Albertus says in his\nbook on,\" etc. We do not argue from the fact of the authority of\nAlbertus being used to prove that he could not have been the author,\nbut from the manner in which that authority is introduced. The reader\nwill judge for himself if our inference be correct. But to us the\nconvincing proof of the falsity of the work is to be drawn from the\ncharacter of Albertus himself and the subject matter of the work.\nThe testimony of antiquity has brought him down to us as venerable\nfor his piety and goodness as he was illustrious for learning. He\nwas truly a good man. He was really an exceedingly learned man. The\nwork ascribed to him could have been written by neither a good man\nnor even a moderately well-educated man. There are principles laid\ndown in it which contradict the first ideas of morality and inculcate\nunbridled license. And shall the well-known works on morality of the\ngreat doctor not be allowed to cry out in his defence? Shall we say\nthat he has not only glaringly contradicted himself, but become the\nopen advocate of immorality? When the illustrious Protestant critic\nCave tells us that Albertus was considered the greatest theologian,\nphilosopher, and mathematician of his day, he does but re-echo the\nvoice of each past generation; and shall we say that he could have\nwritten the work in question, so full of nonsense and superstition,\nand contrasting so strongly with his other writings? Is not the\nopinion of the Medical Faculty of the University of Louvain more just\nwhen they maintain that the work _De Secretis Mulierum_ is neither\nthat of Albertus nor indeed of any learned man at all? These few\nreflections should be enough to settle the matter. We could bring\nforward other and far more convincing reasons in vindication of this\ngreat doctor; but from what has been said, we think we are justified\nin placing the positive affirmation of the writer ascribing the work\nto Albertus Magnus as a glaring misstatement--as blot number two.\n\nThe third misstatement was that St. Thomas Aquinas wrote a commentary\non it. We challenge the writer to bring a single authority to prove\nthat fact. We never heard or saw anything about it before. None of\nthe great standard critics ever hint at it; so, not to lose patience,\nwe affirm that it is the most glaring misstatement made--blot number\nthree, in almost as many lines.\n\nThe reader might here naturally ask, Where, then, did the writer\nobtain any information on which to base his so positive statements,\nso injurious to the characters of two justly celebrated benefactors\nof the human race? We have met with but one phrase which could have\nsuggested the lines in question, and they are taken from a writer who\nshould not be brought forward as authority in a matter of criticism;\nfor the scurrilous, filthy, and flippant manner in which he speaks\nof authors and books renders him unworthy of an answer. This author\nis Dr. James Atkinson, who published a _Medical Biography_, one\nvolume, A and B, London, 1834. After admitting that the authorship\nof the book _De Secretis Mulierum_ is a contested matter, he has\nthese words: \"It may be a question whether the editions (of which\nI have one in Gothic characters) of this _Libellus de Secretis\nMulierum_ were not originally written by Albertus, and published with\na commentary (which is annexed to it in my edition) by St. Thomas\nAquinas (although usually 'non est inventus') or Henricus de Saxonia.\nIs it possible?\" The character of the author Atkinson, as manifested\nin his work, and these words themselves, are a sufficient answer\nto any proof to be drawn from his authority. We must say candidly\nthat these are the only words we could find even to suggest the\nremarkable lines we have quoted in the beginning of this article; and\nwe conclude that we might have hoped for the sincerity of Atkinson in\none who shows that, if he has tried to read much, he has read neither\nwisely nor well.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[157] The citation is from _Medical Bibliography_. By James Atkinson.\nLondon. 1854.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    A HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN COUNCILS.\n\n    From the Original Documents, to the close of the\n    Council of Nic\u00e6a, A.D. 325. By Charles Joseph Hefele,\n    D.D., Bishop of Rottenburg, formerly Professor of\n    Theology in the University of T\u00fcbingen. Translated from\n    the German, and edited by William R. Clark, M.A. Oxon.,\n    Prebendary of Wells and Vicar of Taunton. Edinburgh:\n    T. & T. Clark, 38 George Street. 1871. New York: The\n    Catholic Publication House, 9 Warren Street.\n\nThe merits of Dr. Hefele's great but still unfinished work are well\nknown and universally appreciated. Certain portions of it rise to the\nexcellence of a masterpiece, and really exhibit a genius almost, if\nnot quite, equal to that which is shown in the _Athanasius_ of M\u00f6hler\nand the _History of the Arians_ by Dr. Newman. We refer especially\nto the parts treating of the Arian and semi-Arian controversies, and\nof the history of the Council of Constance, with the other synods\npreceding and connected with it. We cannot, however, consider the\nwork of Dr. Hefele as faultless. In our opinion, he has signally\nfailed in his treatment of the celebrated cases of Liberius and\nHonorius. In the present volume there are, as it appears to us, two\nmanifest errors in regard both to fact and doctrine. The first one\nis found in the statement that confirmation by a schismatical or\nheretical bishop is invalid, and was judged to be so by Pope Stephen\nand the bishops of his time. The second is the assertion that\nthe baptism of the Paulianists was rejected because of the heresy\nprofessed by them, and not because they had vitiated the baptismal\nformula. It is strange that so learned a professor could not see\nthat, if baptism in the name of the Trinity was made invalid by the\nfact that the Paulianists understood by the terms Father, Son, and\nHoly Ghost something different from the true, Catholic sense of the\nchurch, the baptism of the Arians, and of all sorts of Unitarians,\nwould be made invalid by the same reason. Almost all German authors\nhave a tone and an air as if everything has to be proved from the\nbeginning anew, and this proof sharply criticised by an infidel\nprofessor in the next room. Dr. Hefele has this air about him\nwhenever he writes about the constitutive principles of the Catholic\nChurch, and only loses it when he has fairly plunged into his subject\nand become carried away by it. There is, moreover, a perceptible,\nthough not very deep, tinge of what we may call ante-Vatican theology\nin the introduction, although one passage has been corrected by\nthe author since the council. The learned and illustrious author\nwas always animated by an orthodox and pious spirit, which he has\nmanifested by a truly apostolic exercise of his episcopal authority\nin sustaining and enforcing the decisions of the Council of the\nVatican. Notwithstanding the accidental defects of his great work,\nit is a monument not merely of ecclesiastical learning, but of\nsound Catholic doctrine, in which the supremacy of the Holy See,\nand the justice of its cause as against all heretics, schismatics,\nand rebels, are maintained with victorious logic and overwhelming\nevidence. Its critical character makes it especially valuable for\nthose who are studying the history and constitution of the church,\nand we are, therefore, sincerely glad that one volume has been\ntranslated into English and published, and can only hope that the\nothers may follow.\n\nThe translation has been made by a Protestant dignitary and published\nby a Protestant firm, as the title at the head of this notice has\nalready informed our readers. This seems rather odd. We are glad to\nsee a taste for works like this arising in the educated world, but\ncan scarcely understand what could induce a Protestant, sincerely and\nfirmly attached to his own doctrine, to promote their circulation.\nThe author's motives are, however, his own affair, and the affair\nof his own ecclesiastical connection. We have only to criticise the\nmanner in which he has done his work, and for that we are bound to\naccord him great praise. Most judiciously, and to our very great\nsatisfaction, he has refrained from giving us his own opinions\nin prefaces or notes, and has left Bishop Hefele in the state in\nwhich he found him of pure, unadulterated text. The translation is\nundoubtedly substantially correct, and, so far as we have seen, exact\nand accurate in detail, while at the same time it is smooth, readable\nEnglish. We have noticed only one mistranslation, and that is one\nwhich is wholly indefensible. This is the substitution of ROMAN\nCATHOLIC for CATHOLIC. We protest against this alteration of Bishop\nHefele's language, and condemn it as contrary to literary honesty,\nand a real falsification of the text. The volume is admirably\nprinted, and is for sale at The Catholic Publication House, and\nwe most cordially recommend it to the attention of all students of\necclesiastical history who are unable to read the work in German or\nFrench.\n\n\n    THE PRIEST ON THE MISSION. A Course of Lectures on\n    Missionary and Parochial Duties. By Frederick, Canon\n    Oakeley, etc. London: Longmans & Co. New York: The\n    Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren Street. 1871.\n\nWhoever has the happiness of knowing Canon Oakeley will think he sees\nhim and hears him talking when he reads this book. Canon Oakeley was\nwell known many years ago as a Fellow of Balliol College, Oxford, and\none of the most distinguished of the brilliant band of converts from\nthat university. As a Catholic priest, he has been one of the most\nlaborious and successful among the parochial clergy of London. His\nlong experience and eminently practical mind make him unusually well\nfitted for writing a work like the present. It is full of admirable\ndirections and suggestions, among which those on preaching especially\nattracted our attention. Canon Oakeley's very remarkable merits as a\nwriter are too well known to need our commendation. The style of the\npresent volume is well worthy of the venerable author's best days,\nand makes the book delightful reading. We think it is one which even\nthe most experienced pastors will find useful and interesting, and\nwhich will be found to be of the highest value to young clergymen and\necclesiastical students.\n\n\n    CATHOLIC HYMNS AND CANTICLES, TOGETHER WITH A COMPLETE\n    SODALITY MANUAL. By Rev. Alfred Young. Sixth edition.\n    New York: The Catholic Publication House. 1871.\n\nFather Young's hymn-book, well known to many of our schools and\nconfraternities for the past eight years, is now enlarged by the\naddition of twenty-four hymns to its first edition. The best\nthing we can say of the collection is that, of the one hundred and\nthirty-one hymns which it contains, not more than half a dozen are\nbeyond the capacity or unsuited to the tastes of the youth for whom\nit was designed. The majority of the melodies are original, and not\nto be found in any other book of the kind. Every season and festival\nof the year is represented by a choice selection of appropriate\nhymns, and the present edition is enriched with the popular\ncongregational hymns sung in the church of the Paulists during Lent,\nand at the meetings of their Rosary and Christian Doctrine Societies.\nWe have no hesitation in saying that it is the most complete and\nsatisfactory hymn-book for our schools and sodalities that has been\nissued in the English language.\n\n\n    AMERICAN RELIGION. By John Weiss. Boston: Roberts\n    Brothers. 1871.\n\nPrecisely what it was that Mr. Weiss proposed to himself in writing\nthe series of essays which he dignifies by the title of \"American\nReligion,\" we do not find it easy to say. He is one of those more\nunhappy admirers of Mr. Emerson who, in paying him the ready tribute\nof a more or less perfect imitation of the style of his speech\nand the manner of his thought, have so far beggared themselves as\nto leave their readers in doubt as to what their own thinking and\ntheir own statement might have been, had they in fact retained that\nindividuality the rights of which it seems now only a part of their\nimitation to assert. Mr. Emerson's style, which is the fit expression\nof the character of his mind, and in its way perfection, has the\nunfortunate peculiarity of being so mannered that the least of his\ndisciples can successfully, and apparently unconsciously, travesty\nit. Just what it was, therefore, that Mr. Weiss had in his mind\nconcerning the new religion which he desires to see adapted to the\nsupposed needs of America, we do not know; but through the fog in\nwhich his readers are perforce doomed to flounder, it seems as if\nhe believes that the three thousand miles of sea-water which lie\nbetween his native land and the Old World were a sufficient layer of\nregeneration for those born on the hither side of it. The sense of\nsin, the need of an atonement, the efficacy of prayer, are effete\nideas which have served their purpose in the past, but which an\nAmerican citizen is better without. Why should Yankee Doodle, who,\nas all the world knows, is the latest and fullest expression of what\nMr. Weiss likes to call the \"Divine Immanence,\" bewail sins which\nare after all either purely imaginary or the result of a defective\norganization for which he is not to blame; or think himself in need\nof a mediator with an offended God, when the real truth is that he\nhas only to step up to the nearest square inch of looking-glass to\nbehold the Divinity in himself and settle all outlying accounts by\nword of mouth? Perhaps we do Mr. Weiss an injustice, and, in the\ntwelve essays which form this volume, he may have embodied more and\nbetter ideas than the only one which a tolerably attentive reading\nhas enabled us to gather from them. But to us his book seems likely\nto be as barren of suggestion to those who would willingly agree\nwith him as it is to ourselves. Its prevailing cloudiness is here\nand there broken in upon by a sort of inane audacity of expression\nwhen he refers to our Lord and his miracles; but otherwise it offers\nan unbroken uniformity of platitude. It betrays, too, an amusing\nignorance of all modes of thought alien to either the orthodoxy or\nthe rationalism of New England, the provincialism of which is in very\npretty keeping with the significant title which Mr. Weiss has chosen\nfor his work.\n\n\n\n\n      THE CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n      VOL. XIII., No. 78.--SEPTEMBER, 1871.[158]\n\n\nTHE REFORMATION NOT CONSERVATIVE.[159]\n\n\nDr. Krauth is a man highly esteemed in his own denomination, and,\nthough neither very original nor profound, is a man of more than\nordinary ability and learning, well versed in Lutheran theology,\nand, we presume, a trustworthy representative of it as contained in\nthe Lutheran symbolical books, and held by the more conservative\nmembers of the Lutheran Church--a church, or sect rather, of growing\nimportance in our country, in consequence of the large migration\nhither from Germany and the north of Europe, and in some respects the\nmost respectable of all the churches or sects born of the Protestant\nReformation, or, rather, the Protestant revolt and rebellion against\nthe church of God. Yet he will excuse us if we refuse to follow him\nstep by step in his exposition of the Lutheran theology, for all that\nis true in it we have in the teaching of the Catholic Church, without\nthe errors and falsehoods Luther mingled with it. It were a waste of\ntime to study it, unless we were called upon to refute it in detail,\nwhich we are not.\n\nThat there is much that is true mingled with much more that is false\nin Lutheran theology, we do not dispute, and we readily admit that\nDr. Krauth means to hold, and in his way does hold, most of the\nfundamental principles, if not dogmas, of Christianity; but this is\nno more than we might say of any other system of false theology, or\nof any heathen religion or superstition, ancient or modern, civilized\nor barbarous. There is no pagan religion, if we analyze it and trace\nit to its fountain, in which we cannot detect most, if not all, of\nthe great primary truths of the Christian religion, or the great\nprinciples which underlie the dogmas and precepts of the Catholic\nChurch, and which could have been obtained only from the revelation\nmade by God himself to our first parents before their expulsion\nfrom the garden. Yet what avails the truth false religion conceals,\nmingled as it is with the errors that turn it into a lie? It serves,\nwhether with the lettered and polished Greek and Roman or the rude,\noutlying barbarian, only as the basis of barbarous superstitions,\ncruel, licentious, and idolatrous rites, and moral abominations. The\nfundamental ideas or principles of civilized society are retained in\nthe memory of the most barbarous nations and tribes, yet are they\nnone the less barbarous for that. They lack order, subordination;\nneither their intelligence nor their will is disciplined and\nsubjected to law; and their appetites and passions, unrestrained and\nuntamed, introduce disorder into every department of life, and compel\nintelligence and will, reason itself, to enter their ignoble service,\nand as abject slaves to do their bidding. Civilization introduces the\nelement of order, establishes the reign of law in the individual, in\nthe family, in the state, in society, which is not possible without a\nreligion true enough to enlighten the intellect, and powerful enough\nover conscience to restrain the passions within their proper bounds,\nand to bend the will to submission.\n\nAll Protestant sects hold much of truth, but, like the heathen\nreligions, they hold it in disorder, out of its normal relations and\nconnections, out of its unity and catholicity, and consequently no\none of them is strong enough to recover the element of order, and\nre-establish and maintain the reign of law in any of the several\ndepartments of life, spiritual or secular; for the very essence of\nboth consists in rejecting catholicity, the only source of order. We\ntherefore make no account of the principles, truths, or even Catholic\ndogmas retained by the various Protestant churches or sects from\nCatholic tradition. Held as they are out of unity, out of their\nnormal relations, and mingled with all sorts of errors and fancies,\nthey lose their virtue, become the basis of false religion and false\nmorality, pervert instead of enlightening reason, and mislead,\nweaken, and finally destroy conscience. They are insufficient to\npreserve faith and the worship of God, and naturally tend to revive\nin a lettered nation the polished heathenism of Greece and Rome.\nTheir impotence is seen in the prevailing disorder in the whole\nProtestant world, and especially in the singular delusion of modern\nsociety, that the loss of Catholic truth, Catholic authority,\nof spirituality, is a progress in light, liberty, religion, and\ncivilization--a delusion which counts the revolutions, the civil\ncommotions, the wars between the people and the government, between\nclass and class, and capital and labor, the insurrections and\nterrible social disorders of the last century and the present, only\nas so many evidences of the marvellous advance of the modern world in\nfreedom, intelligence, religion, and Christian morals. Is not this\nthe delusion that goeth before and leadeth to destruction?\n\nDr. Krauth has not advanced so far, or rather descended so low, as\nhave some of his Protestant brethren. He has strong conservative\ninstincts, and still retains a conviction that order is necessary,\nand that without religious faith and conscience order is not\npossible. He has a dim perception of the truth, that unless there\nis something in religion fixed, permanent, and authoritative, even\nreligion cannot meet the exigencies of society or the needs of the\nsoul; but, a child of the Reformation, and jealous of the honor\nof his parentage, he thinks it necessary to maintain that, if\nreligion must be fixed and permanent, it must at the same time be\nprogressive; authoritative, and yet subject to the faithful, who\nhave the right to resist or alter it at will. Hence he tells us, page\nviii., \"The church problem is to attain a Protestant Catholicity, or\na Catholic Protestantism,\" and seeks to establish for Lutheranism\nthe character of being a \"conservative reformation.\" The learned\ndoctor may be a very suitable professor of theology in a Lutheran\ntheological seminary, or a proper professor of intellectual and\nmoral philosophy in the University of Pennsylvania, but he seems\neither not to have mastered the categories or to have forgotten them.\nContradictory predicates cannot be affirmed of the same subject.\nThe Lutheran Reformation and conservatism belong to different\ncategories. That only can be a conservative reform of the church that\nis effected by the church herself or by her authority, and which\nleaves her authority and constitution intact, by no means the case\nwith the Lutheran Reformation, which was a total subversion of the\nconstitution of the church and the denial of her authority. In the\nsense of the author, conservative reformation implies a contradiction\nin terms.\n\nLogicians, at least those we have had for masters, tell us that of\ncontradictories one must be false. If there were ever two terms each\nthe contradictory of the other, they are _Catholic_ and _Protestant_.\nOne cannot be a Catholic without denying Protestantism, or a\nProtestant without denying Catholicity. \"Protestant Catholicity\"\nor \"Catholic Protestantism\" is as plainly a contradiction in terms\nas a square circle or a circular square. If Catholicity is true,\nProtestantism is false, for it is simply the denial of Catholicity;\nand if the Protestant denial of Catholicity is true or warranted,\nthen is there nothing catholic, no catholicity, and consequently\nno catholic Protestantism. Dr. Krauth has, we doubt not, a truth\nfloating before his mind's eye, but he fails to grasp it, or to\nconsider to what it is applicable. \"The history of Christianity,\" he\nsays, page vii., \"in common with all genuine history, moves under\nthe influence of two generic ideas: the conservative, which desires\nto secure the present by fidelity to the results of the past; the\nprogressive, which looks out in hope to a better future. Reformation\nis the great harmonizer of the true principles. Corresponding with\nconservatism, reformation, and progress, are the three generic types\nof Christianity; and under these _genera_ all the species are but\nshades, modifications, or combinations, as all hues arise from three\nprimary colors. Conservatism without progress produces the Romish and\nGreek type of the church; progress without conservatism runs into\nrevolution, radicalism, and sectarianism; reformation is antithetical\nto both--to passive persistence in wrong or passive endurance of\nit, and to revolution as a mode of relieving wrong.\" That is,\nreformation preserves its subject while correcting its aberrations,\nand effects its progress without its destruction, which, if the\nsubject is corruptible and reformable, and the reform is effected by\nthe proper authorities and by the proper means, is no doubt true; and\nin this case reformation would stand opposed alike to immobility and\nrevolution or destruction.\n\nBut is the learned and able professor aware of what he does when he\nassumes that Christianity is corruptible and reformable, that it\nis or can be the subject either of corruption or of reformation?\nIntentionally or not, by so assuming, he places it in the category\nof human institutions, or natural productions, left to the action\nof the natural laws or of second causes, and withdraws it from the\ndirect and immediate government and protection of God. Not otherwise\ncould its history be subject to the laws that govern the movement\nof all genuine history, be either perfectible or corruptible, or\never stand in need of being reformed, or of intrinsically advancing.\nChristianity itself is a revelation from God, the expression of\nhis eternal reason and will, and therefore his law, which like\nhimself is perfect and unalterable. The terms the professor applies,\ncan apply, then, only to men's views, theories, or judgments of\nChristianity, not to Christianity itself, either as a doctrine or an\ninstitution, either as the faith to be believed, or as the law to be\nobeyed--a fact which, in the judgment of some, Dr. Newman's theory\nof development overlooks Christianity embodied in the church is the\nkingdom of God on earth, founded immediately by the Incarnate Word to\nmanifest the divine love and mercy in the redemption and salvation\nof souls, and to introduce and maintain the authority of God and the\nsupremacy of his law in human affairs. It is not an abstraction, and\ndid not come into the world as a \"naked idea,\" as Guizot maintains,\nnor is it left to men's wisdom and virtue to embody it; but it came\ninto the world embodied in an institution, concreted in the church,\nwhich the blessed apostle assures us is \"the body of Christ,\" who is\nhimself Christianity, since he says, \"I am the way, the truth, and\nthe life.\" Neither as the end nor as the divine institution, neither\nas the law nor as the authority to keep, declare, and apply it, then\nis the church imperfect, therefore progressive or corruptible, and\ntherefore reformable. This is the Catholic doctrine, which must be\nretained by Protestantism if Protestantism is to be Catholic.\n\nThe learned professor either overlooks or virtually denies the\ndivine origin, character, and authority of the church, or else he\nsupposes that the divine founder failed to adapt his means to his\nend, and left his work incomplete, imperfect, to be finished by\nmen. From first to last, he treats the church not as the kingdom\nof God on earth, but as an institution formed by men to realize or\nembody their conceptions or views of his kingdom, its principles,\nlaws, and authority. He thus makes it a human institution, subject\nto all the vicissitudes of time and space. As men can never embody\nin their institutions the entire kingdom of God, the church must be\nprogressive; as whatever is defective may be corrupted by the errors\nand corruptions of the faithful, as what is subject to growth must\nalso be subject to decay, the church may from time to time become\ncorrupt, and men must be free, as she has need, to reform her. This\nmanifestly supposes the church is not divine, but simply an attempt,\nas is every false religion of men, to realize or embody their\nvariable conceptions of the divine. If this were not the professor's\nview, he could not talk of conservatism, progress, and reformation\nin connection with Christianity, nor the correspondence of these\nwith \"the three generic types of Christianity,\" for these terms are\ninapplicable to anything divine and perfect, and can be logically\napplied only to what is imperfect and human, to what is perfectible,\ncorruptible, and reformable. As there is but one God, one Christ,\nthe mediator of God and men, there can be but one Christianity, and\nthat must be catholic, one and the same in all times and places.\nTo suppose three generic types of Christianity is as absurd as to\nsuppose three Christs or three Gods, generically distinguished\none from another, that is--three Christs or three Gods of three\ndifferent types or genera.\n\nSupposing the professor understands at all the meaning of the\nscholastic terms he uses, it is clear that he understands by\nChristianity the history of which moves under the influence of\ntwo generic ideas--nothing divine, nothing fixed, permanent, and\nimmutable, the law alike for intellect and will, but the views\nand theories or judgments which men form of the works of God, his\nword, his law, or his kingdom. Christianity resolved into these\nmay, we concede, not improperly be arranged under the three heads\nof conservatism, progress, and reformation, but never Christianity\nas the truth to be believed and obeyed. We do not, however, blame\nthe Lutheran professor for his mistake; for, assuming his position\nas a Protestant to be at all tenable, he could not avoid it, since\nProtestants have no other Christianity. They have only their _views_\nor judgments of Christianity, not Christianity itself as the\nobjective reality.\n\nThere is progress _by_ Christianity; and that is one great purpose\nfor which it is instituted; but none _in_ Christianity, because it\nis divine and perfect from the beginning. There may be reformation\nin individuals, nations, and society, for these are all corruptible,\nbut none of Christianity itself, either as the creed or as the body\nof Christ, for it is indefectible, above and independent of men\nand nations, and therefore neither corruptible nor reformable by\nthem. Not being corruptible or capable of deterioration, the term\nconservative, however applicable it may be to states and empires\nin the natural order or to human institutions and laws subject to\nthe natural laws, has no application to Christianity or the kingdom\nof Christ, which is supernatural, under the direct and immediate\ngovernment and protection of God, an eternal and therefore an\never-present kingdom, universal and unalterable, and not subject to\nthe natural laws of growth and decay. Dr. Krauth forgets the law\nof mechanics, that there is no motion without a mover at rest. The\nmovable cannot originate motion, nor the progressive be the cause of\nprogress, or corruption purify and reform itself. If Christianity or\nthe church were itself movable, or in itself progressive, it could\neffect no progress in men or nations, individuals or society; and\nif it could ever become itself corrupt, it could be no principle of\nreform in the world, or in any department of life.\n\nThe office of Christianity is to maintain on earth amidst all the\nvicissitudes of this world the immutable divine order, to recover\nmen from the effects of the fall, to elevate them above the world,\nabove their natural powers, and to carry them forward, their will\nconsenting and concurring, to a blissful and indissoluble union with\nGod as their supreme good, as their last end or final cause. How\ncould it fulfil this office and effect its divine purpose, if not\nitself free from all the changes, alterations, and accidents of time\nand space? Does not the learned professor of theology perceive that\nits very efficiency depends on its independence, immovableness, and\nimmutability? Then the conceptions of conservatism, progress, and\nreformation cannot be applied to the church of God, any more than\nto God himself, and are applicable only to what is human connected\nwith her. In applying these ideas to her, the professor, as every\nProtestant is obliged to do in principle at least, divests her of\nher divinity, of her supernatural origin and office, and places\nher in the natural and human order, and subjects her to the laws\nwhich govern the history of all men and nations deprived of the\nsupernatural and remaining under the ordinary providence of God\nmanifested through second causes. The professor's doctrine places\nChristianity in the same category with all pagan and false religions,\nand subjects it to the same laws to which they are subjected.\n\nThis being the case, Dr. Krauth, who is a genuine Lutheran, has no\nright to call Luther's Reformation a _conservative_ Reformation. It\nmay or may not be conservative in relation to some other Protestant\nchurch or sect, but in relation to the church of God, or to\nChristianity as the word or the law of God, it is not conservative,\nbut undeniably destructive; for it subverts the very idea and\nprinciple on which the church as the kingdom of God on earth is\nfounded and sustained. The church on the principles of Luther's\nreformation is subject to the authority of men and nations, and,\ninstead of teaching and governing them, is taught and governed by\nthem, and instead of elevating and perfecting them, they perfect,\ncorrupt, or reform it. This is manifestly a radical denial, a\nsubversion of the church of God, of Christ's kingdom on earth if\nit means anything more than a temperance society or a social club.\nIn this respect, the principle of the Lutheran reformation was the\ncommon principle of all the Protestant reformers, as we may see in\nthe fact that Protestantism, under any or all of its multitudinous\nforms, wherever not restrained by influences foreign to itself, tends\nincessantly to eliminate the supernatural, and to run into pure\nrationalism or naturalism. How absurd, then, to talk of \"_Protestant_\nCatholicity, or of _Catholic_ Protestantism\"! The two ideas are as\nmutually repellent as are Christ and Belial.\n\nThe church has, indeed, her human side, and on that side she may at\ntimes be corrupt and in need of reform, that is to say, the heavenly\ntreasure is _received_ in earthen vessels, and those earthen vessels,\nthough unable to corrupt or sully the divine treasure itself, may\nbe unclean and impure themselves. Churchmen may become relaxed in\ntheir virtue and neglect to maintain sound doctrine and necessary\ndiscipline, and leave the people to suffer for the want of proper\nspiritual nourishment and care, even to fall into errors and vices\nmore in accordance with the heathenism of their ancestors than with\nthe faith and sanctity of the Christian. Moreover, in a world where\nall changes under the very eye of the spectator, and new forms of\nerror and vice are constantly springing up, the disciplinary canons\nof the church, and those which regulate the relations of secular\nsociety with the spiritual, good and adequate when first enacted, may\nbecome insufficient or impracticable in view of the changes always\ngoing on in everything human, and fail to repress the growing evil of\nthe times and to maintain the necessary discipline both of clerics\nand laics, and therefore need amending, or to be aided by new and\nadditional canons. In this legislative and administrative office of\nthe church, not in her dogmas, precepts, constitution, or authority,\nwhich, as expressing the eternal reason and will of God, are\nunalterable, reforms are not only permissible but often necessary.\nThe councils, general, national, provincial, and diocesan, have\nalways had for their only object to assist the Papacy in suppressing\nerrors against faith in enforcing discipline, maintaining Christian\nmorality, and promoting the purity and sanctity of the Christian\ncommunity.\n\nWe do not deny that reforms of this sort were needed at the epoch\nof the Protestant revolt and rebellion, and the Holy Council of\nTrent was convoked and held for the very purpose of effecting\nsuch as were needed, as well as for the purpose of condemning the\ndoctrinal errors of the reformers; but we cannot concede that they\nwere more especially needed at that epoch, than they had been at\nalmost any time previous, since the conversion of the barbarians\nthat overthrew the Roman empire, and of their pagan brethren that\nremained in the old homesteads. Long, severe, and continuous had\nbeen the struggle of the church to tame, humanize, and christianize\nthese fierce and indocile barbarians, especially those who remained\nbeyond the frontiers of the empire, and to whom the Roman name never\nceased to be hateful, as it is even to this day with the bulk of the\nnorthern Germanic races. The evils which for eight centuries had\ngrown out of the intractable and rebellious spirit of these races\nin their old homes, and their perpetual tendency to relapse into\nthe paganism of their ancestors, and which had so tried the faith\nand patience of the church, had been in a great measure overcome\nbefore the opening of the sixteenth century, and their morals and\nmanners brought into close conformity with the Christian ideal. The\nchurch, through her supreme pontiffs and saintly bishops, zealous\nand hard-working priests and religious, had struggled successfully\nagainst them; and was even getting the better of the polished Greek\nand Roman heathenism, partially revived in the so-called Revival of\nLetters, or the Renaissance, and was pursuing, never more steadily\nor more successfully, her work of evangelization and civilization;\nand we can point to no period in her history since the conversion of\nClovis, king of the Franks, the missionary labors of St. Columbanus\nand his colonies of Irish monks in Eastern Gaul and Italy, and of St.\nBoniface and his Anglo-Saxon companions and successors in central\nGermany and the Netherlands, when reforms were less necessary, or the\nbonds of discipline were less relaxed, than at the epoch of the rise\nof Protestantism.\n\nBut, granting that reforms of this sort were especially needed in the\nsixteenth century, who had the right, on conservative and orderly\nprinciples, to propose or to effect them? Certainly not private\nindividuals on their own authority, except so far as it concerned\ntheir own personal faith and morals, but to the ecclesiastical\nauthorities of the time, as we see in the Holy Council of Trent.\nReforms, even if needed and proper in themselves, if attempted by\nunauthorized individuals on their own responsibility, and carried\nout without, and especially in opposition to, the supreme authority\nof the church, are irregular, disorderly, and unlawful. A reform\nattempted and effected in church or state by unauthorized persons,\nand especially against the constituted authorities of either, is\nunquestionably an attempt at revolution, if words have any meaning.\nNow, was Luther's reformation effected by the church herself, or by\npersons authorized by her to institute and carry it on? Was it done\nby the existing authorities of the church in accordance with her\nconstitution and laws, or was it done in opposition to her positive\nprohibition, and in most cases by violence and armed force against\nher?\n\nThere is no question as to the fact. Luther had no authority or\ncommission from the church to attempt and carry out the reforms or\nchanges he declared to be necessary; and, in laboring to effect\nthem, he proceeded not only without her authority, but against\nit, just as he does who conspires to overthrow the state or to\nsubvert the constitution and laws of his country. Luther, then,\nwas not a conservative reformer, but a decided revolutionist, a\nradical, a sectarian, a destructive, and Dr. Krauth counts too much\non the ignorance or credulity of his readers in expecting them to\naccept Lutheranism as \"conservative reformation.\" A conservative\nreformation, as distinguished from or opposed to revolution, is\na legal, constitutional reformation, effected under the proper\nauthorities and by constitutional and legal means. Dr. Krauth himself\nwould despise us or laugh at us if we should concede that such\nwas Luther's reformation. It was effected by persons unauthorized\nto reform the church, against her constitution and laws existing\nat the time, and to which they themselves owed strict fidelity\nand unreserved obedience. They were conspirators against lawful\nauthority, against their spiritual sovereign, and their pretended\nreform was a revolt, a rebellion, and, as far as successful, a\nrevolution. It is idle to deny it, or to attempt to defend Luther\nand his associates on legal and constitutional principles. The\nreform or movement he attempted was without and against law, against\nthe constitution and canons of the church, and was condemned and\nprohibited by the supreme spiritual authority. This is undeniable,\nand Dr. Krauth knows it as well as we do, and yet he has the\nhardihood to call it a \"conservative reformation\"!\n\nBut the Protestant pretence is that Luther and his associates acted\nin obedience to a higher authority than that of popes and councils,\nand were justified in what they did by the written word of God\nand Christian antiquity. An appeal of this sort, on Protestant\nprinciples, from the decisions of a Protestant sect, might be\nentertained, but not on Catholic principles from the decision of the\nCatholic Church, for she is herself, at all times and places, the\nsupreme authority for declaring the sense of the written as well as\nof the unwritten word, for declaring and applying the divine law,\nwhether naturally or supernaturally promulgated, and for judging\nwhat is or is not according to Christian antiquity. Their appeal was\nirregular, revolutionary even, and absurd and not to be entertained\nfor a moment. She authorized no appeal of the sort, and the appeal\ncould have been only from her judgment to their own, which at the\nlowest is as high authority as theirs at the highest. Luther and his\nassociates did not appeal to a higher law or authority against the\npopes and councils, but to a lower, as D\u00f6llinger has done in asking\npermission to appeal from the judgment of a general council, to that\nof a national or rather a provincial council. The appeal to Christian\nantiquity was equally unavailable, for it was only setting up their\nprivate judgment against the judgment of the supreme court. The\nchurch denied that she had departed from the primitive church, and\nher denial was sufficient to rebut their assertion. In no case, then,\ndid they or could they appeal to or act on a higher law or authority\nthan hers. They opposed and could oppose to her judgment, rendered by\npopes and councils, of the law or word of God, written or unwritten,\nor of Christian antiquity, only their own judgment, which at the best\nwas no better than hers at the worst.\n\nThe simple fact is, there is no defence of the so-called Reformation\non catholic, church, or conservative principles. It sought to reform\nthe faith, and to change the very constitution of the church, and\nwherever it was successful, it proved to be the subversion of the\nchurch, and the destruction of her faith, her authority, and her\nworship. Dr. Krauth says that this was not originally intended by\nthe reformers, and that they had in the beginning no clear views, or\nfixed and determined plan of reform, but were carried forward by the\nlogic of their principles and events to lengths which they did not\nforesee, and from which they would at first have recoiled. But this\nonly proves that they were no divinely illumined and God-commissioned\nreformers, that they knew not what manner of spirit they were of,\nthat they took a leap in the dark, and followed a blind impulse.\nIf the spirit they obeyed, or the principle to which they yielded,\nled them or pushed them step by step in the way of destruction, to\nthe total denial of the authority of the church, or to transfer it\nfrom the pope and hierarchy to C\u00e6sar or the laity, which we know was\nuniversally the fact, it is clear proof that the spirit or principle\nof the Reformation was radical, revolutionary, destructive, not\nconservative.\n\nThat conservative men among Protestants abhor the radicalism and\nsectarianism which the whole history of the Protestant world proves\nto be the natural and inevitable result of the principles and\ntendencies of the so-called Reformation, we are far from denying;\nbut whatever of resistance is offered in the Protestant world to\nthese results is due not to Protestantism itself, but either to\nCatholic reminiscences and the natural good sense of individuals, to\nthe control of religious matters assumed by the civil government,\nwhich really has no authority in spirituals, or to the presence and\nconstant teaching of the Catholic Church. \"What is bred in the\nbones will out in the flesh.\" Everywhere the Protestant spirit,\nthe Protestant tendency, is to remove farther and farther from\nCatholicity, to eliminate more and more of Catholic dogma, Catholic\ntradition, Catholic precepts, and to approach nearer and nearer to\nno-churchism, to the rejection of all authority in spiritual matters,\nand the reduction of the whole supernatural order to the natural.\nFaith in the Protestant mind is only a probable opinion, sometimes\nfanatically held indeed, and enforced by power, but none the less\na mere opinion for that. The conception of religion as a divine\ninstitution, of the church as a living organism, as a teaching and\ngoverning body, as the kingdom of God, placed in the world as the\nmedium of divine grace and of the divine government in human affairs,\nis really entertained by no class of Protestants, but disdainfully\nrejected by all as spiritual despotism, _Romish_ usurpation, or\nPopish superstition.\n\nIt is useless to say that this is a departure from or an abuse of\nthe principle of the Protestant Reformation. It is no such thing;\nit is only the logical development of the radical and revolutionary\nprinciples which the reformers themselves avowed and acted on,\nand which carried them to lengths which, in the outset, they did\nnot dream of, and from which Dr. Krauth says truly they would,\nhad they foreseen them, have shrunk with horror. We do not find\nthat Lutheranism, when left by the civil magistracy to itself, and\nsuffered to follow unchecked its own inherent law, is any more\nconservative or less radical in its developments and tendency than\nCalvinism or Anglicanism, that prolific mother of sects, or any other\nform of Protestantism. Every revolution must run its course and\nreach its goal, unless checked or restrained by a power or influences\nforeign to itself, and really antagonistic to it. The reformers\nrejected the idea of the church as a kingdom or governing body, or\nas a divine institution for the instruction and government of men,\nand substituted for it, in imitation of the Arabian impostor, a book\nwhich, without the authority of the church to declare its sense, is\na dead book, save as quickened by the intelligence or understanding\nof its readers. Their followers discovered in the course of time that\nthe book in itself is immobile and voiceless, and has no practical\nauthority for the understanding or the will, and they cast it off,\nsome, like George Fox and his followers, for a pretended interior or\nspiritual illumination, the reality of which they can prove neither\nto themselves nor to others; but the larger part, for natural reason,\nhistory, erudition, and the judgment of learned or _soi-disant_\nlearned men. Their work has gone on till, with the more advanced\nparty, all divine authority is rejected, and as man has and can have\nin his own right no authority over man, reason itself has given way,\nobjective truth is denied, and truth and falsehood, right and wrong,\nit is gravely maintained, are only what each man for himself holds\nthem to be. The utmost anarchy and confusion in the intellectual and\nmoral world have been reached in individuals and sects said to have\n\"advanced views.\"\n\nSuch have been the results of Dr. Krauth's \"conservative reformation\"\nin the spiritual order, in Christianity or the church. It introduced\nthe revolutionary principle, the principle of individualism, of\nprivate judgment, and insubordination into the religious order, and,\nas a necessary consequence, it has introduced the same principle\ninto the political and social order, which depends on religion,\nand cannot subsist without it. Hence, the great and damning charge\nagainst the church in our day is that by her unchangeableness, her\nimmovable doctrines, her influence on the minds and hearts, and hold\non the consciences of the faithful, she is the great supporter of\nlaw and order--despots and despotism, in the language of the liberal\njournals--and the chief obstacle to the enlightenment and progress\nof society, in the same language; but radicalism and revolution\nin ours. Hence, the whole movement party in our times, with which\nuniversal Protestantism sympathizes and is closely allied, is moved\nby hostility to the church, especially the Papacy. Hence, it and\nthe Protestant journals of the Old World and the New are unable to\nrestrain their rage at the declaration of the Papal supremacy and\ninfallibility by the Council of the Vatican, or their exultation\nat the invasion of the States of the Church, their annexation to\nthe Subalpine kingdom, and the spoliation of the Holy Father by the\nso-called King of Italy. Why do we see all this, but because the\nrevolutionary principle, which the reformers asserted in the church,\nis identically the principle defended by the political radicals and\nrevolutionists?\n\nHaving thrown off the law of God, rejected the authority of the\nchurch, and put the faithful in the place of the pope and hierarchy,\nwhat could hinder the movement party from applying the same\nsubversive principle to the political and social order? The right to\nrevolutionize the church, and to place the flock above the shepherd,\ninvolves the right to revolutionize the state, and the assertion\nof the right of the governed to resist and depose their governors\nat will, or at the dictation of self-styled political and social\nreformers. Protestantism has never favored liberty, as it claims, and\nwhich it is impotent either to found or to sustain; but its claims\nto be the founder and chief supporter of modern liberalism, which\nresults naturally and necessarily from the fundamental principle of\nthe reformers, that of the right of the people to resist and depose\nthe prelates placed over them, cannot be contested. If no man is\nbound, against his own judgment and will, to obey the law of God, how\ncan any one be bound in conscience to obey the law of the state? and\nif the people may subvert the constitution of the church, and trample\non her divine authority, why may they not subvert the constitution\nof the republic, and trample under foot the human authority of the\ncivil magistrate, whether he be called king or president? It is\nto Protestantism we owe the liberalistic doctrine of \"the sacred\nright of insurrection,\" or of \"revolution\" assumed to be inherent\nin and persistent in every people, or any section of any people,\nand which justifies Mazzini and the secret societies in laboring to\nbring about in every state of Europe an internal conflict and bloody\nwar between the people and their governments. It deserves the full\ncredit of having asserted and acted on the principle, and we hold it\nresponsible for the consequences of its subversive application; for\nit is only the application in the political and social order of the\nprinciple on which the reformers acted, and all Protestants act, in\nthe religious order against the church of God.\n\nThe principle of revolution, asserted and acted on as a Christian\nprinciple by the reformers, has not been inoperative, or remained\nbarren of results, on being transferred to modern political and\ncivil society. If the reformation, by drawing off men's attention and\naffections from the spiritual order, and fixing them on the material\norder, has promoted a marvellous progress in mechanical inventions\nand the applications of science to the industrial and productive\narts, it has at the same time undermined the whole political order,\nshaken every civil government to its foundation, and, in fact,\nrevolutionized nearly every modern state. It has loosened the bonds\nof society, destroyed the Christian family, erected disobedience into\na principle, a virtue even, and reduced authority to an empty name.\nIt has taught the people to be discontented with their lot, filled\nthem with an insane desire for change, made them greedy of novelties,\nand stirred them up to a chronic war with their rulers. Everywhere\nwe meet the revolutionary spirit, and there is not a government in\nEurope that has any strong hold on the consciences of the governed,\nor that can sustain itself except by its army. Even Russia, where the\npeople are most attached to their emperor, is covered over with a\nnetwork of secret societies, which are so many conspiracies against\ngovernment, laboring night and day to revolutionize the empire.\nPrussia, which has just succeeded in absorbing the greater part of\nGermany, and is flushed with her recent triumph over the French\nempire and the improvised French republic, may seem to be strong\nand stable; but she has the affections of the people in no part of\nGermany, which she has recently annexed or confederated under her\nheadship, and the new empire is pervaded in all directions by the\nrevolutionary spirit to which it owes its existence, and which may be\nstrong enough to resist its power, and reduce the ill-compacted body\nto its original elements to-morrow.\n\nWe need not speak of Austria; she may become hereafter once more\na power in Europe, but she is now nothing. Voltairianism, and the\nspirit generated by the Reformation, have prostrated her, and sunk\nher so low that no one deigns to do her reverence. In England the\ngovernment itself seems penetrated with the revolutionary spirit,\nor at least believes that spirit is so strong in the people that it\nis unsafe to resist it, and that it is necessary to make large and\ncontinual concessions to it. It is a maxim with the liberals and most\nEnglish and American statesmen, or politicians rather, for our age\nhas no statesmen, that a government is strengthened by timely and\nlarge concessions to popular demands. The government is undoubtedly\nstrengthened by just laws and wise administration, but in our times,\nwhen the old respect for authority has gone, and governments have\nlittle or no hold on consciences, there is no government existing\nstrong enough to make concessions to popular demands, or to the\nclamors of the governed, without endangering its power, and even\nits existence. The Holy Father, Pius IX., in the beginning of his\npontificate, tried the experiment, and was soon driven from his\nthrone, and found safety only in flight and exile. Napoleon III.\ntried it in January of last year, was driven by his people into a\nwar for which he was unprepared, met with disasters, was defeated\nand taken prisoner, declared deposed and his empire at an end by\na Parisian mob, before the end of September of the same year. The\npolicy of concession is a ruinous policy; one concession leads to\nthe demand for another and a larger concession, and each concession\nstrengthens the disaffected, and weakens the power of authority to\nresist. But England has adopted the policy, is fully committed to it,\nas she is to many false and ruinous maxims, and it will go hard but\nshe yields to her democracy, and reaps in her own fields the fruits\nof the liberalism and revolutionism which she has, especially when\nunder Whig influence, so industriously sown broadcast throughout\nEurope.\n\nWe need not speak of our own country. Everybody knows its intense\ndevotion to popular sovereignty, its hatred of authority, and\nits warm sympathy--in words at least--with every insurrection or\nuprising of the people, or any portion of the people, to overthrow\nthe established authority, whether in church or state, they can hear\nof, without any inquiry into the right or wrong of the case. The\ninsurrection or revolutionary party, it is assumed, is always in the\nright. There is no more intensely Protestant people on the globe than\nthe American, and none more deeply imbued with the revolutionary\nspirit, in which it is pretended our own institutions originated,\nand which nearly the whole American press mistake for the spirit of\nliberty, and cherish as the American spirit. What will come of it,\ntime will not be slow in revealing.\n\nBut France, so long the leader of modern civilization, and which she\nhas so long led in a false direction, shows better than any other\nnation the workings of the revolutionary spirit introduced by the\nReformers. She, indeed, repelled, after some hesitation and a severe\nstruggle, the Reformation in the religious order; but through the\nindomitable energy of the princely Guises and their brave Lorraine\nsupporters, whom every French historian and publicist since takes\ndelight in denouncing, she was retained in the communion of the\nchurch; but with Henry IV. the _parti politique_ came into power, and\nProtestantism was adopted and acted on in the political order. On\nmore occasions than one, France became the diplomatic and even the\narmed defender of the Reformation against the Catholic sovereigns of\nEurope. She was the first Christian power to form an alliance with\nthe Grand Turk, against whom Luther declared to be against the will\nof God for his followers to fight, even in defence of Christendom;\nshe aided the Low Countries in their rebellion against Catholic\nSpain, Protestant Sweden, and Northern Germany in their effort to\ncrush Catholic Austria, and protestantize all Germany; and saw,\nwithout an effort to save her, Catholic Poland struck from the list\nof nations. Twice has she with armed force dragged the Holy Father\nfrom his throne, and secularized and appropriated the States of the\nChurch, and set the example which the Italian Liberals have but too\nfaithfully followed. Rarely, if ever, has she since the sixteenth\ncentury, by her foreign policy, consulted the interests of the\nchurch any further than they happened to be coincident with her own.\nIn an evil hour, she forgot the principles which made the glory of\nthe French sovereigns, and on which Christendom was reconstructed\nafter the downfall of the Roman Empire of the West, and severed her\npolitics from her religion. At first asserting with the reformers\nand the Lutheran princes the independence of the secular order of\nthe spiritual, afterwards the superiority of the secular power, and\nfinally the sovereignty of the people or the governed in face of\ntheir governers, as the reformers asserted the sovereignty of the\nfaithful in face of the pope and hierarchy, she made her world-famous\nrevolution of 1789, inaugurated the mob, and has been weltering in\nanarchy and groaning under despotism ever since.\n\nThe accession of Henry IV., the beau ideal of a king with the French\npeople, marks a compromise between Catholicity and Protestantism,\nby which it was tacitly agreed that France should in religion\nprofess the Catholic faith and observe the Catholic worship, while\nin politics, both at home and abroad, she should be Protestant, and\nindependent of the spiritual authority. It was hoped the compromise\nwould secure her both worlds, but it has caused her to lose both, at\nleast this world as every one may now see. It is worse than idle to\nattempt to deny the solidarity of the French revolution with Luther's\nrebellion; both rest on the same principle and tend to the same end;\nand it is the position and influence of France as the leader of the\ncivilized world, that has given to the revolutionary principle its\npopularity, diffused it through all modern nations, and made it the\n_Weltgeist_, or spirit of the age. The socialistic insurrection in\nParis, and which we fear is only \"scotched, not killed,\" is only the\nlogical development of '93, as '93 was of '89, and '89 of Luther's\nrevolt against the church in the sixteenth century. Its success would\nbe only the full realization in church and state, in religion and\nsociety, of what Dr. Krauth calls \"the conservative reformation.\" The\ncommunists deny the right of property, indeed, but not more than did\nProtestants in despoiling the church and sacrilegiously confiscating\nthe possessions of religious houses and the goods of the clergy. No\nmore consistent and thoroughgoing Protestants has the world seen than\nthese French socialists or communists, who treat property as theft\nand God as a despot.\n\nWe do not exult in the downfall of France, in which there are so many\ngood Catholics and has always been so much to love and admire, any\nmore than, had we lived then, we should have exulted in the downfall\nof the Roman Empire before the invasion of the barbarians. Like\nthat downfall, it is the breaking up of Christendom, and leaves the\nHoly Father without a single Christian power to defend his rights\nor the liberty of the Holy See; but it deprives Protestantism of\nits most efficient supporter and its great popularizer, and all the\nmore efficient because nominally Catholic. It is not Catholic but\nProtestant and liberal France that has fallen. The Bonapartes never\nrepresented Catholic France, but the principles of 1789--that is,\nthe revolution which created them, and which they sought to use or\nretain as they judged expedient for their own interests. In the last\nNapoleon's defeat we see the defeat, we wish we could say the final\ndefeat, of the revolution. Yet so terrible a disaster occurring so\nsuddenly to so great a nation, we think must prove the turning-point\nin the life and tendencies of the nations of Europe, and pave the way\nfor the reconstruction of Christendom on its old basis of the mutual\nconcord and co-operation of the two powers. We think it must lead\nthe nations to pause and reflect on the career civilization has for\nthree centuries been running, and open their eyes to the folly and\nmadness of attempting to found permanent political and social order,\nor authority and liberty, on the revolutionary principle of the\nReformation or of 1789. We look for a powerful reaction at no distant\ndate against the revolution in favor of the church and her divine\nauthority. It is sometimes necessary to make men despair of the earth\nin order to turn their attention to heaven.\n\nBut to conclude: we have wished to show Dr. Krauth that the\nReformation in any or all its phases, in its principle and in its\neffects, in church and state is decidedly revolutionary. He as a\nProtestant has not been able to see and set forth the truth; bound by\nhis office and position to defend the Reformation, he has considered\nwhat it must have been if defensible, not what it actually was,\nand has given us his ideal of the Reformation, not the Reformation\nitself. If it does not, he reasons, maintain all Catholic principles\nand doctrines it is indefensible; but if it concedes that these\nprinciples and doctrines, were held in their purity and integrity in\ntheir unity and catholicity, by the church Luther warred against,\nwhat need was there of it? Our good doctor must then assume that\nthey were not so held, that the church had erred both in faith\nand practice, and that the Reformation simply restored the faith,\npurified practice, re-established discipline, freed the mind from\nundue shackles, and opened the way for the free and orderly progress\nof the word. All very fine; only there does not happen to be a word\nof truth in it. Besides, if it were so, it would only prove that\nthe church had failed, therefore that Christianity had failed,\nand that Christ was not equal to the work he undertook. If Christ\nis true, there must always be the true church somewhere, for she\nis indefectible as he is indefectible. If the church in communion\nwith the See of Rome had become corrupt and false, as the reformers\nalleged, then some other existing body was the true church, and\nLuther and his associates, in order to be in the true church, should\nhave ascertained and joined it--a thing which it is well known they\ndid not do, for they joined no other church or organic body, but set\nfuriously at work to pull down the old church which had hitherto\nsheltered them and to build a new one for themselves on its ruins.\n\nWe grant the Reformation should have been conservative in order to\nbe defensible, but it was not so, it was radical and subversive.\nIt rejected the Papacy, the hierarchy, the church herself as a\nvisible institution, as a teaching and governing body, and asserted\nthe liberty of the faithful to teach and govern their prelates and\npastors. It is the common principle of all Protestant denominations\nthat the church is constituted by the faithful, holds from them,\nand the pastor is called not sent. This, we need not say, is the\nsubversion of all church authority, of the kingdom of God founded\nby our Lord himself, and ruling from above instead of from below.\nIt reduces religion from law to opinion or personal conviction,\nwithout light or authority for conscience. This principle, applied to\npolitics, is the subversion of the state, overthrows all government,\nand leaves every man free to do \"what is right in his own eyes.\" It\ntransfers power from the governors to the governed, and allows the\ngovernment no powers not held from their assent, which is simply to\nmake it no government at all. It has been so applied, and the effect\nis seen especially in France, which, since her revolution of '89,\nhas had no settled government, but has alternated, as she alternates\nto-day, between the mob and the despot, anarchy and military\ndespotism.\n\nWe so apply it, theoretically, in this country; and in the recent\ncivil war the North was able to fight for the preservation of the\nUnion only by pocketing for a time its principles and forswearing its\nlogic. The logic was on the side of the South; the force was on the\nside of the North; on which side was the right or the wrong, it is\nnot our province to decide. We will only add that we do not agree at\nall with journals that speak of the issues which led to the war as\nbeing decided by it. War may make it inexpedient to revive them, but\nthe only issue it ever does or can decide is, on which side is, for\nthe time, the superior force. We deny not the right of the people to\nresist the prince who makes himself a tyrant, if declared to be such\nand judicially deposed by the competent authority, but we do deny\ntheir right, for any cause whatever, to conspire against or to resist\nthe legitimate government in the legal exercise of its constitutional\npowers. We recognize the sovereignty of the people in the sense that,\nif a case occurs in which they are without any government, they have\nthe right, in concert with the spiritual power, to institute or\nreconstitute government in such way and in such form as they judge\nwisest and best; but we utterly deny that they remain sovereign,\notherwise than in the government, when once they have constituted\nit, or that the government, when constituted, holds from them and\nis responsible to their will outside of the constitution; for that\nwould make the government a mere agent of the people and revocable at\ntheir will, which is tantamount to no government at all. The doctrine\nof the demagogues and their journals we are not able to accept;\nit deprives the people collectively of all government, and leaves\nindividuals and minorities no government to protect and defend them\nfrom the ungoverned will and passions of the majority for the time.\n\nWe accept and maintain loyally, and to the best of our ability, the\nconstitution of our country as originally understood and intended,\nnot indeed as the best constitution for every people, but because\nit is the best for us, and, above all, because it is for us the\nlaw. In itself considered, there is no necessary discord between\nit and Catholicity, but as it is interpreted by the liberal and\nsectarian journals, that are doing their best to revolutionize\nit, and is beginning to be interpreted by no small portion of the\nAmerican people, or as interpreted by the Protestant principle, so\nwidely diffused among us, and in the sense of European liberalism\nor Jacobinism, we do not accept it, or hold it to be any government\nat all, or as capable of performing any of the proper functions\nof government; and if it continues to be interpreted by the\nrevolutionary principle of Protestantism, it is sure to fail--to\nlose itself either in the supremacy of the mob or in military\ndespotism--and doom us, like unhappy France, to alternate between\nthem, with the mob uppermost to-day, and the despot to-morrow.\nProtestantism, like the heathen barbarisms which Catholicity subdued,\nlacks the element of order, because it rejects authority, and is\nnecessarily incompetent to maintain real liberty or civilized\nsociety. Hence it is we so often say, that if the American Republic\nis to be sustained and preserved at all, it must be by the rejection\nof the principle of the Reformation, and the acceptance of the\nCatholic principle by the American people. Protestantism can preserve\nneither liberty from running into license or lawlessness, nor\nauthority from running into despotism.\n\nIf Dr. Krauth wants conservatism without immobility, and progress\nwithout revolution or radicalism, as it seems he does, he must cease\nto look for what he wants in the Lutheran, Calvinistic, Anglican,\nor any other Protestant reformation, and turn his thoughts and his\nhopes to that church which converted pagan Rome, christianized and\ncivilized his own barbarian ancestors, founded the Christendom of the\nmiddle ages, and labored so assiduously, unweariedly, perseveringly,\nand successfully to save souls, and to advance civilization and the\ninterests of human society, from the conversion of the pagan Franks\nin the fifth century down to the beginning of the sixteenth century,\nand which still survives and teaches and governs, in spite of all\nthe effort of reformers, revolutionists, men, and devils to cover\nher with disgrace, to belie her character, and to sweep her from\nthe face of the earth. She not only converted the pagan barbarians,\nbut she recovered even the barbarian nations and tribes, as the\nGoths, Vandals, and Burgundians, that had fallen into the Arian\nheresy, which like all heresy is a compromise between Christianity\nand heathenism, and even reconverted the Alemanni, Frieslanders,\nand others who had once embraced the Gospel, but had subsequently\nreturned to their idols and heathen superstitions. God is with her as\nof old, and lives, teaches, and governs in her as in the beginning;\nand she is as able to convert the heathen to-day, to reconvert the\nrelapsed, and to recover the heretical, as she was in the days of\nSt. Remi, St. Amand, St. Patrick, St. Austin, St. Columbanus, St.\nWillebrod, or St. Boniface. She is the kingdom of God, and like him\nshe cannot grow old, decay, or die. Never had her Supreme Pontiff\na stronger hold on the consciences, the love and affections of the\nfaithful throughout the world, than he has at this moment, when\ndespoiled of all his temporalities and abandoned by all earthly\npowers, nor ever were her pastors and prelates more submissive and\ndevoted to their chief. Never did she more fully prove that she is\nunder the protection of God, as his immaculate spouse, than now when\nheld up to the scorn and derision of a heretical and unbelieving\nworld. Dead she is not, but living.\n\nLet our learned Lutheran professor remove the film from his eyes,\nand look at her in her simple grandeur, her unadorned majesty,\nand see how mean and contemptible, compared with her, are all the\nso-called churches, sects, and combinations arrayed against her,\nspitting blasphemy at her, and in their satanic malice trying to\nsully her purity or dim the glory that crowns her. Say what you will,\nProtestantism is a petty affair, and it is one of the mysteries\nof this life how a man of the learning, intelligence, apparent\nsincerity, and good sense of Dr. Krauth can write an octavo volume\nof eight hundred closely printed pages in defence of the Protestant\nReformation.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[158] Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by\nREV. I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n[159] _The Conservative Reformation and its Theology; as Represented\nin the Augsburg Confession, and in the History and Literature of the\nEvangelical Lutheran Church._ By Charles V. Krauth, D.D., Norton\nProfessor of Theology in the Evangelical Lutheran Theological\nSeminary, and Professor of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy in the\nUniversity of Pennsylvania. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.\n1871. 8vo, pp. 800.\n\n\n\n\nGENZANO AND FRASCATI.\n\n\nWhat is interesting to visitors in Rome, and indeed in all Italy,\nis not merely their stay in certain known localities, or their\nsight-seeing within a certain beaten track; it is also the casual\nobservation of less famous and more intimate scenes, and the\nresidence in less crowded and more attractive, because more peculiar,\nneighborhoods.\n\nThe curious festival, more carnivalesque than religious, that takes\nplace every Sunday in August in the Piazza Narona, in Rome, and\nduring which pedestrians and carriage-goers wade and splash through\na shallow, artificial lake, produced by the regulated overflowing\nof the centre-fountain, is a sight unfamiliar to strangers and\ntourists, yet none the less a very characteristic sport, and\ninteresting especially to such as view Rome chiefly in a historic and\nantiquarian light. Again, the \"Ottobrate,\" a species of christianized\nbacchanalia, an innocent merry-making answering in some sort to our\ndear old familiar gathering of \"Harvest Home,\" is a thing more often\nheard of than witnessed by flying visitors to the Eternal City. In\nOctober, also, the Holy Father visits different convents, and a few\nladies not unfrequently procure the privilege, through \"friends at\ncourt,\" of following in his train, and thus gaining admittance to\nstrictly enclosed nunneries, and being present at touching little\nceremonies performed very simply by the Pope himself in the poor,\nplain chapels of these voluntary prisoners of love. Sometimes he\nsays a few words of encouragement and advice; sometimes he gives\nbenediction while the untutored choir of nuns sing some simple hymn;\nsometimes he assembles the community, and gives them his solemn\nblessing. There are the \"Celestines\" (so-called from their blue veil\nbeneath the black one), whose convent is in a retired street not far\nfrom St. John Lateran, and whose _enclosure_ does not necessitate a\ngrating, but compels them to wear their veils down while speaking\nto strangers, and not to advance further than the threshold of the\ninner house-door, while their visitor stands without the line, yet\nface to face with them. There are the Dominicanesses, near the Piazza\nTrajana, at \"San Domenico e Sisto,\" whose profession is impressively\naccompanied by the heart-stirring ceremony of prostration beneath\na funeral pall, while the choir sing the solemn dirge of the _De\nProfundis_. When these nuns take the habit and first become novices,\nthey are asked, at a certain part of the service, whether they choose\nthe crown of thorns or the wreath of roses, both of which lie before\nthem on a table. Of course there is but one answer, but, the ceremony\nover, the rose, or bridal wreath, replaces for the day the coronal\nof thorns. There is a convent of a very severe order, called the\n\"_Sepolte-Vive_,\" or \"buried alive,\" whose rule is almost inhumanly\nsevere, and has never received absolute confirmation from the Holy\nSee, but only toleration, or permission, for such as feel themselves\ndrawn to such appalling austerities. They dig their own graves,\nand wear fetters on the wrist, and, when in fault, no matter how\nslight, a placard on their backs indicating their peculiar failing.\nWhen news is brought to the superioress of the death of a parent or\nrelation of any one of the sisters, the bereaved one is not told of\nher loss, but it is announced that \"one among us has lost a member\nof her family;\" and Masses are offered for the departed without\nany further mention of him or her. Again, there is a Carmelite\nconvent in Rome, I forget where, in which a miraculous crucifix has\nbeen preserved for about fifty years--a strange image, which seems\ninstinct with life and expression, seems to speak to and look at you,\nfascinates the gaze, and stirs the least impressionable heart. It\nis not much spoken of even in Rome, that city where marvels are no\nlonger marvels, and where miracles are more credible than business\nnegotiations elsewhere; but it is enough that in one of these Papal\nOctober visits to convents, two persons of calm judgment, both\nEnglish, both converts, and one the sister of an eloquent and gifted\nAnglican divine, saw it, and declared that there was something about\nit far beyond the common run of even skilfully carved and elaborately\nchiselled masterpieces.\n\nTo pass from convents to hospitals, the sight during the evenings\nof Holy Week at the \"Trinit\u00e0 de Pellegrini\" is something not less\ninteresting than the oft-recounted glories of the Sistine Chapel and\nthe thrilling rubrics of the Pontifical High Mass at St. Peter's\nshrine. Rome is still, in this century, a real centre of pilgrimage;\nand what could be a greater proof of the truth of the faith she\nteaches than this apparently incredible fact--this _anachronism_ in\nthe eyes of our enlightened progressists? Men and women, chiefly from\nthe rural and mountainous districts of Italy, but also from Hungary,\nand Germany, and faithful Poland, come begging their arduous way, in\nsimple faith and fervent love, perfectly undisturbed by doubts they\nhave never heard discussed, by the \"spirit of the age\" they have\nnever dreamt of as being in antagonism with the spirit of the church,\nby the childish and wilful gropings after religious reconstruction\nwhich they, if they knew of them, would call madness, and pity as\nsuch. They come with their strange tattered costumes, all incrusted\nwith dirt, and embroidered into perplexing patterns with accumulation\nof unheeded dust, and knock at the door of this gigantic hospital,\nwhere they find a real home and a ready welcome. Other men and women,\nchiefly of the higher classes, and, like the pilgrims, of divers\nnationalities, come to tend them and offer them literally the same\nservices Abraham offered to the voyager-angels when they stopped,\ntravel-stained and foot-sore, at the entrance of his tent. In an\nupper hall are laid tables laden with abundant and wholesome food,\nof which a portion is reserved by each wanderer for the morrow's\nbreakfast, and the disposition of which, from personal observation,\nI know to be as follows: a small loaf of bread sliced in the middle,\nand meat and sauce crammed as tight as possible between the two\nhalves thus making a substantial but somewhat ungainly sandwich. In\na large room on the lower floor are placed benches against the wall,\nwith a foot-board running along them, on which are rows of basins,\nwith the necessary adjuncts of soap and towels. The washing of the\npilgrims' feet is by no means a sinecure, or a graceful make-believe\nat biblical courtesies. It is a very real and slightly unpalatable\nbusiness; but the grievance is far more the short time allowed to\neach person than the washing itself. The unfortunate feet of the\nweary pilgrims are more refreshed than thoroughly cleaned by one\nlayer of soap; and it is to be wished that the time allotted could\nbe sufficiently extended to allow the work to be well done, since\nit is attempted at all. The self-denial of those who undertake this\nmost praiseworthy and medi\u00e6val charity must be enhanced by the fact\nthat many tourists come to see this done, as a part of their Holy\nWeek _programme_, and, being mostly curious and carping critics\nof English or American origin, their comments are more sarcastic\nthan encouraging. Here are wildernesses of dormitories, into\nwhich the pilgrims file in slow procession after supper, singing\nlitanies and hymns. Let any other country point to such a palace of\nChristian charity, to such a freely supported and admirably managed\ninstitution, and then it may have claim to talk of progressive\ncivilization! But instead of this, what do we see but poor-laws, that\ntreat God's poor as animals, and the state in which God himself chose\nto be born, and live, and die, as a crime and a moral shame. \"Till\nwhen, O Lord, till when?\"\n\nOn Christmas night, another beautiful scene takes place in the female\nprison, on the \"Piazza di Termini,\" opposite the baths of Aurelian,\nbetween the railway station and the church of the Cistercians, \"Santa\nMaria degli Loyoli.\" Yet there is nothing to describe, no gorgeous\nritual, no impressive assemblage, no pageant to take the eye and\ndivide the attention. Four whitewashed walls, an orderly throng\nof uniformly dressed women, a few hymns, in which the voices of\nthe nuns, in whose charge the prisoners are, lead and predominate;\na plain altar, an unpretending \"Presepio,\" or representation of\nthe stable of Bethlehem, and that is all. Well! what is there to\nsay about this? No correspondent could fill a column with these\ndetails; yet they fill the heart of God, and make the heart of his\nsinless Mother glad, as she looks down on the repentant woman whose\nwelfare is so dear to her in whom there is found no spot nor stain\nof guilt. And this is very different, no doubt, from the splendidly\nilluminated altar in _San Luigi de Francesi_, where the lighted\ntapers are pyramidally ranged in dazzling tiers of shining amber\nbrightness, and where the fragrance of incense struggles hard not to\nbe overpowered by the sweetness of the hot-house plants blooming in\nclusters around the steps and communion rails. Very different, too,\nfrom the artistic and elaborate \"Presepio\" at _Sant' Andrea della\nValle_, where a veritable stage seems miraculously poised over the\naltar, and where all manner of wonderful details of Eastern scenery,\nsomewhat mixed with prevailing Western conceptions and incongruities\nconcerning the Orient, are displayed on a magnificent scale for the\nedification of the peasantry flocking into Rome from all sides. Very\ndifferent, again, from the solemn ritual of \"Santa Maria Maggiore\"\n(though _that_ has been for many years discontinued, on account of\nthe abuses of which it was the unhappy occasion), the ceremonies\nthat renewed most vividly the scene of the angels' announcement,\nand the pastoral welcome, on the moon-brightened plains round the\nstable of Bethlehem, the splendor of decoration gathered about the\nprecious relic of the rude crib, whose straw, still preserved in this\nchurch, is now more glorious by far than conqueror's coat-of-mail or\nemperor's robe of ermine. But what of this difference, after all?\nEarth's costliness of display is earthly still, earth's poverty\nand nakedness is almost divine, because, whenever earth became the\nscene of any of God's choicest wonders, it was always in a state of\ndestitution, which he ordained beforehand as a mystical preparation.\nGod fashioned Adam out of common clay, and Eve from a bare rib; his\nown birth was in a stable, cold and forlorn, his life in an obscure\nartisan's shop, littered with common dust, filled with coarse tools;\nhis death was on a common gibbet, on a bare mountain. Common animals,\ndomestic drudges, and beasts of burden surrounded him at the dawn of\nhis being; common criminals, rough men, coarse-minded gazers, were\naround him in his last hour. The only time he rode in any state, it\nwas upon an ass, not a fancy war-steed with trappings of oriental\nmagnificence, not even a stately mule, such as became later on a\nrecognized and legitimate bearer of great dignitaries. The first men\nwho welcomed him on earth were shepherds; the last who spoke to him\nwere fishermen. But it is hardly necessary to say more on a theme so\nwell known and so much canvassed; yet it is not unappropriate to the\nframe of mind which this picture of the midnight Mass in the prison\ninduces and fosters. And just as it would be good for any Christian\ncountry to be able to show a hospital as well managed as the\nPilgrim's Home we have glanced at, so would it be even better could\nany one of the nations of Europe point to prisons where repentance\nis taught by the rule of the Gospel and not by the regulations of\na board of magistrates, and where confinement for one species of\noffence is not turned into a school of graduation for worse offences\nstill.\n\nThe reader will forgive this roundabout introduction to the two\nbeautiful reminiscences of which this paper is the subject, for these\nare both among the class of events described at the beginning as less\nfamous, but more attractive because more peculiar.\n\nOne of them is of a private and purely personal nature, the other of\na public sort, but rarer than reminiscences of Rome usually are.\n\nThere is a village about twenty miles from Rome, and two beyond\nAlbano, the name of which is Genzano, and belongs, I believe, to\nthe Chigi family, as does Laricia with its wild woods of chestnuts.\nIt is an ordinary hamlet, with its church standing on a height\nto which two side straggling streets lead up, and the front of\nwhich is pretty well hidden by the block of irregular houses that\ndivide the road-ways. For many generations this village had been\nfamous for its Corpus Christi procession, and the peculiar way in\nwhich the procession's track was more carpeted than strewn with\nflowers. Strangers used to flock to see the floral festival, and\nHans Andersen, in his _Improvisatore_, once gave the most vivid\nand picturesque account of it. Perhaps every one has not read\nthis description, and few in this country at least have seen the\nprocession. In 1848, the custom was discontinued, owing to the\nunsettled state of the country, and the tendency of the Carbonari\nto make disturbances at any popular gathering or demonstration,\nespecially of a religious kind. In 1864, things being somewhat more\nstable under the protection of French troops and the promise of\nnon-intervention on the part of the King of Italy, the festival of\nthe _Infiorata_, as it is called, was again announced, and all Rome\nhurried to see it.\n\nIt took place in the evening. No description can do it justice,\nespecially as its beauty was enhanced by that most hopelessly\nindescribable of circumstances--the loveliness of a southern summer's\nday. Albano looked from its puny heights over the wide plain that\nstretches to Ostia and the sea, covered with dusky gray-green\nolive-yards; the blue hills, where the chestnuts grow and overshadow\nthe ruddy wealth of wild mountain strawberries beneath, rose like\ncupolas in the evening sky, that was alive with summer lightnings;\nthe bright red and blue costumes of the peasant women, with their\nlittle tents of spotless linen squarely poised upon their heads, and\ntheir massive chains of gold and coral vying with their wonderful\nsword-shaped hair-pins for quaintness and for richness, stood out in\npicturesque relief against the dark background of the common-looking\ndwellings; through the bustle and clatter of an Italian crowd, there\ncould yet be discerned the hush and stillness so familiar to our\nNorthern hearts, so congenial to our idea of Sabbaths and church\nfestivals; the noise seemed a distant hum, the whole scene a vision;\nand over it all, the spirit of faith that made it what it was, not a\nmere idle show to awake idle people, but a living gathering of living\nand believing souls, offering nature's purest gifts in their virgin\nintegrity to the God of love, to _Ges\u00f9 Sacramentato_, as the Italians\nso ingeniously and touchingly say.\n\nBoth streets leading up to the church were paved with flowers, in\nthick layers, symmetrically portioned out with squares corresponding\nto the width of the houses on either side of the road. Patterns of\ngreat delicacy were produced by these flowers, scattered into petals\nas they were, and no leaves nor stems carelessly appearing anywhere.\nHere, on one large space, were pictured the arms of the Chigi family,\nthere, the arms of the bishop of the diocese, further still, those\nof the Holy See. In the centre of one of the streets, the grand\ncompartment was taken up by a colored representation of an altar with\ncandles and a monstrance, and the white Host within. A little lower\ndown was a tiny fountain, more like a squirt than anything else,\nconcealed in a mound of soft flower-petals. Patterns of geometrical\nfigures, of Persian carpets, of fanciful monograms, filled up the\nmany squares, while all along the sides, and supported by stakes, ran\na low festoon of box-wreaths, guarding the flower-carpet from the\nfeet of the eager crowd.\n\nFrom above, from the many balconies and terraces, and from the roofs\nof the tall, old-fashioned houses, the people look down and gaze\nupon this wonderful tapestry, more elaborate and incomparably more\nbeautiful than the choicest produce of the looms of Genoa, and Lyons,\nand the _Gobelins_--more precious and more fair than the silken\nhangings woven of old by the hands of queens and sovereign princesses.\n\nAnd this is all for an hour! In a few moments, the procession and the\nfollowing multitude will have passed over the floral tapestry, and\nevery trace of its beauty will be gone. But why not? Its beauty is\nconsecrated, and, when it has ministered to the greater glory of God,\nits mission will be over.\n\nEvery one knows the incident in the life of Sir Walter Raleigh,\nwhen, walking across a muddy road with his imperious and capricious\nsovereign, Elizabeth of England, the gallant courtier's velvet\ncloak, costly though it was, was not deemed too rich for a woman's\nfootstool, and doubtless the graceful homage was considered as very\nlittle beyond an absolute necessity of courtesy. And shall this\ndisplay of rarest loveliness and natural treasures, called the\n\"_Infiorata_,\" be thought of otherwise than as a cloak thrown beneath\nthe weary feet of the pilgrim Saviour?\n\nOur Lord walks through many lands, and the way of men's hearts is\nvery rugged here, very treacherous there, very uneven everywhere.\nLet him pause here for a moment, as he rests his feet on the carpet\nor cloak spread for him, and let him find in a few faithful hearts\na path ready prepared for him, as fragrant and as beautiful as this\nfloral \"via sacra.\"\n\nThe procession leaves the church by one of the two diverging roads,\nand returns by the other. It is a regular Italian procession,\nsomewhat grotesque in our eyes, unaccustomed to some little\npeculiarities, such as winged angels represented by children in\nscanty robes of tinselled muslin, and golden paper kites flying\nfrom their shoulders, but on the whole it is edifying in its very\nartlessness. There are many monks, walking two-and-two, and bearing\nlighted tapers; children in companies and sodalities with gaudy\nbanners and streamers, priests in black and white, and cross-bearers\nand thurifers, and, lastly, the swaying canopy under which is borne\nthe Lord of nature. While each person in the procession winds his way\namong the flower patterns, and carefully spares the perfection of the\ndesign as much as possible, the priest, on the contrary, carries the\nBlessed Sacrament right over in the centre of the broad path, and the\ncrowd pour after him in heaving masses, leaving the track behind them\nstrewn with remnants of box and olive borders and blended heaps of\ncrushed flower-petals.\n\nAnd so the sacred pageant is over. The sky is getting cloudy, and\nthunder-drops of almost tropic rain are falling noisily to the earth;\npeople hurry home, but long before Albano is reached the storm is\nalready furious, and bursts over the darkening plain. Many are\ndetained at the inns of the white village whose _gallerie_ of elm and\nilex are so famous round Rome.\n\nBy the bye, these _gallerie_ lead from Albano to the neighboring\nvillage of Frascati, an archiepiscopal see, and once the retreat of\nthe Cardinal of York, the last of the Stuarts. He himself, with his\nunfortunate brother, is buried in St. Peter's; but in the village\nchurch of which he was titular archbishop is a tablet to his memory,\nrecounting his many virtues, and the love and veneration in which his\nflock ever held him.\n\nFrascati is the scene of the second reminiscence I have once before\nspoken of; one more domestic and more intimate than the last, and\nvery interesting as being the record of an unusual favor shown to a\nforeigner by the Holy Father, Pope Pius IX.\n\nThere are a great many villas around Frascati, and one of the\nprettiest as well as most historical is the Villa Falconieri, the\nwhilom abode of Santa Juliana Falconieri, to whom a chapel is\ndedicated in the house. The grounds are, as in most Italian villas,\nvery badly kept (according to Northern ideas), but in their wildness\nmore beautiful than the trimmest garden of Old or New England.\nA winding, steep road, bordered with box, leads to the mansion,\nwhose wide marble chambers re-echo the few footsteps they ever\nbear, and whose best preserved ornaments are some marble busts and\nold frescoes. To the front stretches a lawn dotted with Spanish\nchestnut-trees, and beyond lies an alley of hoary and gigantic\ncypresses that seem the enchanted genii of perpetual silence. There\nis a peculiar odor about cypress-trees which can never be forgotten\nby one who has been much among these groves of living columns; and\nit is a well-known fact that the charm inherent in a familiar odor\nis one of the strongest that exists. Not only in this alley, a mile\nlong, leading up through a maze of thickets to the ruins of Tusculum,\nbut also in a weird quadrangle planted round a stone-coped pond, do\nthese trees stand in their stern and sad majesty. Here, again, is\nsilence, reigning undisputed; the grand path is grassy with weeds;\nthe little cones drop into it and are never swept away; the brown\nbranches of the trees fall upon it in autumn, and remain there till\nthey decay into the soil; the water is stagnant, and the artificial\nrock-work in the centre of the pond is neglected and overgrown with\ncrops of worthless yet not unlovely weeds. A landscape gardener\nwould form and draw out a new map of these _mismanaged_ acres;\na painter would shout for joy at this picturesque frame for a\nhistorical love-scene, and would transfer the whole to his canvas,\nadding only, according to his fancy, the pale moon silvering the\nmysterious trees, or the setting sun, in its amethyst radiance,\nthrowing golden arrows through the glorious openings of the cypress\ngrove.\n\nThis villa of Santa Juliana Falconieri was once let, now many, many\nyears ago, to an Englishman, a recent convert, and a well-known and\nzealous defender of his newly adopted faith. He was not unfrequently\na guest at the neighboring monastery of _Camaldoli_, a beautiful\nhermitage embosomed in the woods, and where the white-robed monks\nfollow a strict and ascetic rule, very different from the lives of\nhypocritical holiness that Protestants and _liberators_ would make us\nbelieve is the present type of monastic perfection. One day, when the\ntemporary owner of the Villa Falconieri was dining at the Camaldolese\nconvent, the Holy Father, whose summer residence is close by, at a\nlittle village called Castel Gandolfo, overlooking the classic Lake\nNemi, came with his retinue to visit the monks. He also stayed to\ndinner, which in Italy and among religious is in the middle of the\nday, and, the visit over, he spontaneously proposed to his English\nfriend to make another halt at his house. A message was sent down in\nhaste to prepare the villa, and so few were the servants there that\nit was not before the cavalcade of the Pope was at the head of the\ncypress alley that the end nearest the house was swept and cleaned.\nThe wife and little daughter were ready to welcome the Holy Father,\nas his host introduced him into the pretty, picturesque dwelling.\nA throne had been temporarily arranged at the further end of the\ndrawing-room, and a square of gold-edged velvet placed at the feet.\nThe \"Noble Guard,\" part of the Pontifical retinue, took their places\naround the room, seemingly a living wall, and other ecclesiastical\nattendants grouped themselves in various corners. This was an honor\nseldom bestowed on any but Roman princes, and then very sparingly, so\nthat it was all the more a distinguished mark of personal friendship\non the part of the good and fatherly Pope toward his English child.\nNot long before, those three, the father and mother and little\ndaughter, had knelt before the Pope, and the parents had resolved and\npromised to embrace outwardly the religion they inwardly believed;\nthe child had unknowingly played with its father's sword, and\nprattled, as unconscious little ones do, in the midst of these grave\nevents.\n\nNow, the child was not forgotten either, and the Holy Father kept\nit near his throne, and bestowed especial attention upon it, even\nwhile he conversed with the steadfast and happy parents. By-and-by,\nthe Noble Guard were dismissed, and bivouacked outside the house,\nunder the chestnut-trees, till it was dark. Then lanterns were hung\non the branches and on the tall gates, and a regular illumination\ntook place. When the Pope left, torches were carried around him\nand his _cort\u00e9ge_, all through the woods that cover the ground\nbetween Frascati and Castel Gandolfo. A tablet was put up in the\nvestibule or _atrium_ of the villa, with the permission of the owner\nof the property, in commemoration of this signal honor conferred\nupon a stranger. These details are only a part of the many-sided\nrecollections of this day, but, such as they are, they come from the\nlips of an eye-witness, and we are not conscious that they are in any\ndegree exaggerated.\n\nNearly twelve years after this memorable visit, the villa was\nrevisited by some of the persons who had been its temporary occupants\nduring that occurrence, and it was found to be in exactly the same\nstate as before; the dark cypress alley and the quadrangle, the\nchestnut-shaded lawn and deserted-looking house, showing no sign of\nthe lapse of time. The former owner, however--a Cardinal Falconieri,\nI believe--was dead, and the property was disputed by two or three\nnoble families. The chapel of Santa Juliana stood open to the\nterrace, accessible from the outside as well as from the narrow inner\npassage connecting it with the house; and on one side of its tiny\nwalls was the picture of the saint's death-bed, representing the\nmiraculous communion by way of viaticum, when the blessed sacrament\nsank into her breast because her sickness was of such a nature as to\nprevent her from receiving it into her mouth. Below the picture is a\nlong explanation of this fact, and a sort of laudatory epitaph in the\nsaint's honor.\n\nThe villa Aldobrandini occupies one of the most prominent positions\nin Frascati, and commands attention from its tiers of stone\nfountains, raised amphitheatre-like one over the other up the face of\nthe hill, and arranged so as to let an artificial waterfall spring\ndown the giant staircase.\n\nAnother notable building of this village is the white-walled Capuchin\nconvent, a nest among the trees and rocks, where the little chapel is\nrailed off by heavy gates from the poor vestibule, and where lived\nonce a very good and eloquent monk, Padre Silvestro. He too, like the\nold cardinal, died within the years that followed the visit of the\nPope to the Villa Falconieri, but his kindness to little children\nand his well-known powers of language alike cause him to live for\never in the heart and memory of those whose happiness it was to know\nhim.\n\nHe always seemed to the writer the very type of Manzoni's renowned\n\"Padre Cristofaro,\" one of the noblest creatures of that author's\nworld-famed romance, _I Promessi Sposi_.\n\nAnd with this mention of him and his quiet convent--which is now,\nperhaps, a desecrated stable or barrack--let us close this little\nsketch of a well-remembered and beloved spot, endeared to us by many\nhappy hours spent among its hills and woods, and by the memory of one\nof God's best and purest creatures, one worthy of more gratitude,\nmore love, and more appreciation than our poor heart was ever able\nto render her. To her, once our guide on earth, now our guardian, we\ntrust, in heaven, do we dedicate these few mementoes of our happy\ncompanionship in a land whose beauty she always taught us to look\nupon as the chosen appanage of the Vicar of Christ, and the Jerusalem\nof the new law.\n\n\n\n\nSONNET.\n\nST. FRANCIS AND ST. DOMINIC.\n\n\n      Francis and Dominic, the marvels twain\n        Of those fair ages faith inspired and ruled,\n        When Christendom, alike by darkness schooled\n      And light, served God, and spurned the secular chain.\n      Strong brother-saints of Italy and Spain,\n        The nations, Christian once, whose love hath cooled,\n        The sects pride-blind, the sophists sense-befooled,\n      Your child-like, God-like lowliness disdain!\n      But ye your task fulfilled! All love the one,\n        Christ's lover, burning with seraphic fire;\n        All light the other, from the cherub choir\n      Missioned, a clouded world's re-risen sun;\n      Warriors of God! for centuries three at bay\n      Those crowned lusts ye kept that gore his church to-day.\n\n                                             AUBREY DE VERE.\n\nROME--Convent of St. Buonaventura.\n\n\n\n\nTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nPOLEMICS AND THE WEATHER.\n\nIt is trite to say that error is most dangerous when mingled with\ntruth; but never was this saying more applicable than in the case of\nthe Native American or Know-Nothing party. \"America for Americans\"\nwas not all a cry of bigotry and exclusion: the hospitality and\nfreedom of the nation had been abused, and a reform was needed. But,\nunfortunately, it was possible to make the question a religious one.\nThe fact that the greater part of the crime in cities is committed by\nforeigners, and that the majority of foreigners in the country are\nat least nominally Catholic, could easily, by a lame syllogism, be\nturned against the church. But what matter how lame the syllogism,\nwhen prejudice props it on the one side and malice on the other?\n\nBeside this, the masses of any people crave an occasional popular\ncommotion to vary the monotony of a peaceful national existence,\nand nothing else offered at the time. The advent of this party was,\ntherefore, _\u00e0 propos_.\n\nHow it used its power, we all know. It was, indeed, less a party\nthan an army, for its measures were violent, invasive, and illegal.\nIts street-preachers, from Gavazzi downward, its pulpit-preachers,\nwho countenanced their brethren of the mob by more decent but not\nless malicious attacks, its floods of foul literature penetrating to\nevery nook and corner of the land, duping and inflaming the ignorant\nwhile it filled the pockets of irresponsible writers, editors, and\npublishers--the \"_canaille de la litt\u00e9rature_,\" as Voltaire called\nsuch--its mobs and riots, its churches destroyed and clergymen\nmaltreated, its committee of Massachusetts legislators, senators, and\nvolunteers invading and insulting a community of defenceless women,\nall are matter of history. The spectacle was a strange and revolting\none, and it was one which the country is not likely to see repeated\nwith the same results; for it is incredible that American Catholics\nwould ever again submit to such a persecution. It is more probable\nthat, should we once more find our liberties threatened and our\nsacred places desecrated, there will be\n\n      \"Thirty thousand Cornish men\n      To see the reason why.\"\n\nIn this movement, the ambitious town of Seaton was not to be left\nbehind; but certain circumstances conspired to check for a while any\ngreat demonstration. The utter peacefulness of Father Rasle, and\nthe undeniably good influence he exercised over his flock, gave no\npretext for overt attack, and the fact that he was prospering and had\nbuilt a church could only be cited as dangerous indications. Besides,\nEdith Yorke was, quite unconsciously, a shield to the church in her\nnative town. Her uncle's family assumed steadily that no person\nwho hoped for any countenance from them would say or do anything\noffensive to her. This assumption on the part of Mr. and Mrs. Yorke\nwould not have had so much effect, but their children were more\npowerful. Carl was the idol and hero of the young ladies of the town,\nand not for worlds would one of them have seen directed to her that\nflashing gaze with which he regarded any person who even remotely\nreflected on his \"cousin Edith.\" It did not take much to freeze that\nbeautiful, laughing face of his when Edith was in question. Melicent\nalso had a fair, and Clara a large, share of the gallantry of the\ntown, and the former could disconcert by her haughtiness, the latter\nscathe by her passion, any offender against the family dignity. Major\nCleaveland was also a powerful ally. Edith was to him an object of\nromantic admiration. He insisted that she ought to have a title, and\nused playfully to call her Milady and the Little Countess, and to say\nthat, though he did not like the Catholic religion for himself or his\nfamily, he liked it for her.\n\n\"I naturally associate the thought of her,\" he said, \"with incense,\nand lighted altars, and dim, rich aisles.\" And he quoted:\n\n      \"Why, a stranger, when he sees her\n      In the street even, smileth stilly,\n      Just as you would at a lily.\n\n      \"And should any artist paint her,\n      He would paint her, unaware,\n      With a halo round her hair.\"\n\nEvidently, Major Cleaveland would not countenance anything likely to\ninsult the dignity or hurt the feelings of this \"radiant maiden\";\nand Major Cleaveland's countenance was of consequence in the town of\nSeaton.\n\nEdith and Edith's religion had yet another protector in Mr. Griffeth.\nThis gentleman was by far the most popular minister in town,\nand drew to himself all the explosive elements there. His manner\nof speaking was lively and theatrical, the matter amusing. Those\nprogressive spirits found it delightful to have a pastor who, when\nhe did condescend to draw from the Bible, took piquant texts, such\nas, _Ephraim is as a cake that is half-baked_. It provoked a smile,\nand that was what they wanted. Mr. George MacDonald had not then been\nheard of; but Mr. Griffeth already amused his hearers by holding up\nfor their derision \"old granny judgment.\"\n\n\"Do not believe,\" he said, \"that God gives all the pain, and the\ndevil all the pleasure. Indeed, I do not insist on your believing\nthat there is any devil whatever.\"\n\nAll this was charming to his hearers, so charming that they did not\nabsolutely require him to abuse Catholicism. Once only a member of\nhis congregation gave him a hint on the subject, but the minister's\nanswer was ready:\n\n\"I do not like to say the same things which everybody else is saying.\nIf you wish to hear anti-Catholic sermons, go to Brothers Martin and\nConway: they will satisfy you. I do not suppose that my silence on\nthe subject will be interpreted as a leaning toward the Church of\nRome.\"\n\n\"No, sir!\" the gentleman answered dryly. \"It is more likely to be\nlooked on as a leaning toward the house of Yorke.\"\n\nMr. Griffeth colored, but did not deny the \"soft impeachment.\" It\nwould have been useless to deny it, for his partiality to the family\nwas evident, though to which member of it his especial regard was\ndirected, was not so easy to say. Well for him that it was not, or he\nwould not, perhaps, have been forgiven.\n\nSo Edith stood, surrounded by a guard of devoted hearts, between the\nchurch and harm.\n\nThe physical and mental growth of this girl was fair to see. It was\nlike the slow, sweet unfolding of a rose from the bud, with its\nbaby lip pushed through the green to the rich and gracious beauty\nof the bursting flower. That morning look which belongs to the eyes\nof ingenuous youth still shed its calm, clear lustre over hers; her\nhair had darkened in tint, so as to be no longer a shadowed gold, but\na gilded shadow; and she shot up like a young palm-tree, slender,\nbut with the rounded, vigorous strength of an Atalanta. She had that\nperfect health which makes mere existence a delight, and she was\nperfectly happy, for all her wants were satisfied, and all her wishes\nwere winged with hope. Friends she took as a matter of course. She\ndid not think much about them, but loved them quietly, as people do\nwho never wanted for friends. It is need or the fear of losing which\ndevelops intensity of affection.\n\nWhat she did think of was: How does the wind blow and the sun shine?\nWhat are the names of those worlds in the sky, and how do they move?\nHow does the seed sprout and grow, and what makes the flower unfold?\nWhere do the birds go when they disappear in winter, and how do they\nknow when to return? How does the snow-flake gather itself into a\nstar-shape, and what shapes and colors the rainbow?\n\nHer interest took in also another subject kindred to these: What\ndistant people live on the earth? What do their eyes see? How do\nthey live? How do they speak? Her mother's native land having been\nfar away, made all far-away lands seem fair to her; and customs\nand speech different from those she had known did not repel, but\nattracted.\n\nBy some happy providence in her nature or her education, or in both,\nthe girl's curiosity and love of the marvellous and beautiful took\nthis direction, and therefore her delights did not wither like weeds\nwhen childhood passed: they grew for ever.\n\nBut what was best in Edith Yorke's growth was that she began to\nperceive the glories of the church of God, and, as her knowledge\ntouched here and there at remote points, to guess at the grandeur,\nthe symmetry, and the perfect finish of the whole structure. She had\nbeen ashamed of her religion, even while she clung to it, because\nall the professors of it whom she knew were poor and ignorant, and\nbecause she had seen it mocked by a higher class. She soon learned\nthat all Catholics were not like those she saw, and that some of the\nnoblest of earth, persons excelling in rank, wealth, learning, and\nvirtue, had been devoted children of the church. It was a mean reason\nfor being better satisfied with it, but it was better than no reason,\nand it led upward. What was it that these people found to love\nand reverence? She looked to see, and, seeing, she also loved and\nreverenced, not because the great did, not because any one else did,\nbut because what she saw was worthy of such homage. Once attaining\nthis elevation, it was easy for a nature like hers to be entirely and\nenthusiastically on the side of God, and to find a beauty and delight\nin the fact that had before repelled her, to rejoice that the poor\nand the ignorant, as well as the rich and the learned, had a place\nin the arms of this bountiful Mother, and that, while human science\nbuilt a laborious track on which to crawl toward the heart of God,\nsimple human love flew straight there, as the bird flies to its nest.\n\nFather Rasle instructed her thoroughly, particularly in controversy.\nShe must be able not only to defend herself when attacked, but to\nattack, if necessary. As yet, of either attack or defence she had\nhad no need to think. That there was strife in the world, she almost\nforgot. The memory of all that had been miserable in her past life\nbecame as a dream, or was only real enough to keep fresh her love\nand gratitude toward her early friends, and to bar all intercourse\nbetween her and the village people. She saw them only when they came\nto her uncle's house.\n\nHer life was simple--books, music, and drawing, a little gardening,\nand a good deal of riding on horseback. Major Cleaveland had given\nher a beautiful saddle-horse, and Carl was her teacher and constant\ncompanion in these rides. Mrs. Yorke, gentle soul! would have fainted\nwith terror had she seen the reckless manner in which these two flew\nover the ground when they were out of her sight.\n\n\"You have had no exercise till your cheeks grow red,\" Carl would\nsay; and at that challenge Edith would chirrup to her prancing\nThistledown, and they were off on the wings of the wind. Thus\ncloistered and fostered, she grew up strong, sweet, and happy, and\nwith the glance of her clear eyes kept back yet a while many a shaft\nthat would have been aimed at the church.\n\nOne marksman, however, was not dazzled by her. Mr. Conway cried\naloud, sparing not. Denunciation was this man's forte, and he\nimproved the occasion. It was about this time that Miss Clara Yorke\ncommented on the astringent qualities of the gentleman's character.\n\n\"Why, mamma,\" Hester Cleaveland said, \"he had even the impudence\nto come to my house, and exhort me, and to say that we were all in\ndanger from the influence of Father Rasle and Edith. I got up at\nthat, and said that, since he had taken the liberty to speak to me in\nsuch a manner of my own family, I should not scruple to excuse myself\nfrom any further conversation with him then or in future. And I made\nhim one of my most splendid bows, and left him alone; didn't I, you\nbeautiful creature?\"\n\nThis question was addressed to a lovely, gray-eyed infant that lay\nin the speaker's lap, and was followed by a long and interesting\nconversation between the two, the young mother furnishing both\nquestions and answers, and in that delightful intercourse quite\nforgetting Mr. Conway and his impudence. What were all the crabbed\nold ministers in the world in comparison to mamma's own baby? Nothing\nat all! \"Come, Melicent, and see how intelligent his expression is\nwhen I speak to him. He looks right in my face.\"\n\n\"I do not see how he could well help it, if he looks anywhere, since\nyour face is within an inch of his nose,\" remarks Melicent dryly.\n\nHester had at this time been a year married, and was triumphantly,\nwe must own, a little selfishly happy. There was not in her nature a\nparticle of malice, but she lacked that sensitive and delicate regard\nfor the feelings of others less favored than herself, which makes\nunselfish persons cautious not to display too much their own superior\nadvantages. As her father had predicted, Major Cleaveland was to her\nthe most wonderful man in the world, and as to Major Cleaveland's\nyoungest son, words could not express his perfections. Their house\nwas, in some occult way, finer than any other house whatever, their\nfurniture had a charm of its own, their horses had peculiar qualities\nwhich rendered them more valuable than you would think, their very\nbread and butter had an uncommon flavor which distinguished it from\nthe bread and butter of less fortunate mortals.\n\nThe Cleavelands remained in Seaton the first winter after this\nbaby's birth, greatly to the joy of Hester's family. The winters\npassed rather heavily for them, and it was a pleasant break in their\ndaily life to see Hester's horses turn into the avenue, with a great\njingling of sleigh-bells, and Hester's pretty face smiling out from\nher furs behind them. Even Clara, absorbed as she was in the glorious\nwork of putting the last finishing touches to her first novel--a\nnovel actually accepted by a publisher, and to be brought out in\nthe spring--even this inspired person would start up at that cheery\nsound, and run down-stairs to chat with her sister, and embrace her\nnephew, if he were of the party.\n\nBut there were times when no one could come to them, and they could\nnot go out, but were as close prisoners as though walls of stone\nhad been built up around them. One might as well have been in the\nBastile as in a solitary country-house in one of those old-fashioned,\ndown-east snow-storms. One could see them gather on winter days in\na steady purple bank about the horizon, waiting there with leaden\npatience for a day or two, perhaps, till all their forces should\ncome up, or till the air should moderate enough for a fall. There\nwould be no visible clouds, but a gradual thickening of the air, the\nblue losing its brilliancy under the gray film, a flake sidling down\nnow and then in so reluctant a manner that it seemed every moment\non the point of going up again. Another follows, and another, they\ncoquette with the earth, seem to talk the matter over in the air,\nfinally, with a good deal of hesitation, one after another settles,\nand presently the storm comes on steadily, and what was a fairy\nstar of whiteness becomes a thin white veil, then an inch-deep of\nswan's-down, then a pile that clogs the feet of men and beasts, and\nthe wheels or runners of carriages, then an alabaster prison.\n\nIt is possible to be in a state of desolation under such\ncircumstances, and it is possible not to be: that depends on the\npeople, and on the mood they are in. Some groan over the trial;\nsome, scarcely less agreeable, sit down and endure it with a most\ndepressing patience; some shut the world out, and invent expedients\nto forget what sort of world it is; others, wider of mind and heart\nand clearer of sight, take the storm as it comes, and see all the\nenchantment of it. In that vast lily-flower that has curled down over\nthem, and shut them in for a time, they find a honey that sparkles\nlike wine. Lean out and catch a flake as it falls; it is a star, a\nflower, a fairy dumb-bell, a cross, a globe, always a wonder. Think,\nthen, of the lavish millions of them!\n\nOne whom nature holds close to her heart has sung the snow-storm:\n\n      \"Every pine, and fir, and hemlock,\n        Wore ermine too dear for an earl;\n      And the poorest twig on the elm-tree\n        Was ridged inch-deep with pearl.\"\n\nOne such snow in Seaton fell all day quietly, and all night, with a\nrising wind, and the next morning they woke in chaos. There was no\nup and down out of doors, but only a roundabout. There was a whirl,\nand a whiteness that dimmed off into grayness; there were no fences\nnor posts; a ghost of a pyramid stood where the barn had been; what\nhad been trees were white giants coming toward them, apparently. They\nopened their windows to brush away the snow that piled up on the\nsill, and were blinded and baffled; they opened their doors to go\nout, and a solid Parian barrier was laid across the step, knee-high;\nthey tried to shovel a path, and an angry wind and a myriad of little\nhands filled it in again. Patrick and Carl made a desperate effort to\nreach the village, and, after struggling as far as the avenue gate,\nwere glad to get back to the house without being suffocated. At the\ndoor they found Edith catching snow-flakes to look at the shapes of\nthem, and watching with wonder and delight certain thin, sharp drifts\nthat a breath would have shaken from their airy poise, but which the\nwild wind never stirred even to a tremor.\n\n\"If one could only see the shapes of the wind!\" she said. \"Or is it,\nCarl, that the shape of the snow is the shape of the wind?\"\n\nClara shook the snow from her brother's coat, and slyly dropped a\nsnow-ball down his back; even Melicent forgot her dignity so far\nas to sit down in a bank, which enthroned her very prettily. Carl\nthereupon called her Mrs. Odin, and Melicent smiled involuntarily at\nthe idea of being Mrs. Anybody. The mother and father, standing side\nby side, watched them smilingly from the window, and remembered how\nthey used to play in the snow when they were children, and felt young\nagain for a brief moment.\n\n\"But the spectres of rheumatism and sore-throat stand between me and\nall that folderol now,\" Mr. Yorke says, with a half-sigh.\n\n\"Yes, dear; but it is pretty to look at,\" says the wife cheerfully.\n\"And we elders have the fire, which is more beautiful yet.\"\n\nThey pile wood on the fire. It blazes up, and reddens all the dusky\nroom, and presently Mrs. Yorke wraps a scarlet mantle about her, and\ngoes, with a little shiver, almost to the door, and calls out in the\nsweetest little bird-call: \"Come in, children, come in! You'll take\ncold.\"\n\n\"Mother looks and sounds like an oriole in there,\" says Carl. \"Come,\ngirls!\"\n\nThey all come in with very red cheeks and bright eyes, Edith running\nto show her aunt a large star-flake before it melts. Mrs. Yorke,\nbending to examine it, breathes on it, and it changes instantly to a\nspot of water on Edith's dark-blue sleeve.\n\nThe two young Pattens, who have developed into clever scapegraces,\nare pushing each other into drifts at the back-door, and pretending\nnot to hear Betsey's stern calls to them to come to their work.\nWhen she appears at the door with her hands all ready to administer\nsummary chastisement, they elude her with the skill of practised\ngymnasts or of children used to dodging blows, run under her very\nelbows into the kitchen, and are busily and gravely employed by\nthe time she has turned about and come back. Patrick sets his face\nresolutely toward the barn, where are certain quadrupeds to be cared\nfor, and flounders as if he were himself a quadruped, and becomes a\nlessening speck, only the head visible, and finally, when they begin\nto think that he is lost, triumphantly pushes the barn-door open, and\nis greeted by a neigh from the horse, a shake of the head from the\ncow, and a welcoming cackle from the hens.\n\nThat evening they had music. Melicent played brilliantly, and Clara\nsang them an elfish old song:\n\n      \"'Wha patters sae late at our gyle-window?'\n        'Mither, it's the cauld sleet.'\n      'Come in, come in,' quoth the canny gude-wife,\n        'An' warm thae frozen feet.'\"\n\nWhen it came time for prayers, Mr. Yorke read that exquisite chapter\nin Job wherein God speaks of the incomprehensible mysteries of power\nand wisdom hidden in the things that he has made.\n\nCarl, finding himself bored, leaned back in his chair, and clasped\nhis hands over the top of his head. The leaning back brought within\nhis range of vision the fold of a dark-blue gown, the toe of a\nsmall shoe, and a pair of lovely folded hands. He turned his face a\nlittle, and looked at Edith, who had drawn her chair near his, and\nas he looked his face softened, and he unconsciously changed his\ncareless position to one more respectful. He saw her profile, with\nthe lustrous eyes steady as she listened, and so uplifted as to show\ntheir full size. The firelight played over her quiet face, and made\nshine a curve or two of the large braid of hair wound round her head.\n\nWhen Mr. Yorke read: _Hast thou entered into the store-houses of\nthe snow, or hast thou beheld the treasures of the hail?_ etc., she\nglanced at Carl, and smiled. She had known that he was looking at\nher, and was pleased that he should. Carl had a particularly pleasant\nway of looking at his cousin which she felt as a flower may feel the\nsun. It was as though they were talking together without words, and\nhe knew her thoughts without the trouble of speech.\n\nWhen the reading was over, Edith said good-night to each one, kissed\nher aunt on both cheeks, and went up to her chamber. The last\ngood-night was to Carl, who opened the door for her.\n\n\"He has beautiful manners,\" she said to herself as she went\nup-stairs. \"He says so much without speaking a word. He seemed to say\ngood-night, but he did not speak. I think that, when we go to heaven,\nwe shall all talk in that silent way. How odd that Carl and I should\nbegin now!\"\n\nShe wrapped a shawl about her, and stood before her crucifix, looking\nat it, and recollecting herself before saying her prayers. \"When I am\ngoing to speak to Carl or to Dick, or to any one, I think of him. If\nI were going to speak to a king, I should think of nothing else, and\nmy heart would beat quickly. I am going to speak to the One who makes\nkings.\"\n\nShe bowed her head with a calm reverence. But that was not what she\nwanted. Her heart craved emotion. \"I am going to speak to the Son\nof God. He was poor, he was despised and rejected. When I was the\npoorest, I had my little attic to sleep in, but he had not where to\nlay his head. O dear Lord! it was pitiful. I will never, never turn\nyou out in the cold!\"\n\nWhen Melicent softly entered her room, next to Edith's, and stopped\na moment, hesitating whether to speak to her cousin, she heard her\nbreathe out as she laid her head upon the pillow, \"In the name of the\nLord Jesus Christ, I lie down to sleep!\"\n\nMelicent stole noiselessly away from the door. She could not address\nany trivial word, even any word of common affection, to one who had\njust lain down to sleep in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ. It made\nsleep seem awful and sacred as well as sweet. It made guardian angels\nseem possible, even necessary. \"How beautiful the Catholic religion\nis in some of its forms!\" she thought, and, after a moment, knelt,\nand said a short prayer that she also might be guarded during the\nnight, and that the Lord would not refuse to let her also rest in his\nname. She felt a sense of safety in having her cousin near, and the\ndoor of Edith's chamber seemed to her like the door of a shrine.\n\nThe next morning when they waked, the windows were all of a glitter\nwith sunshine, and wrought over by the artisans of frostland with\nsamples of every landscape under the sun--cliffs with climbing\nspruce-trees, silvery-sanded deserts with palms, an infinite variety.\nThe sky was a dazzling clearness. The earth was like a stormy sea\nthat had suddenly been enchanted into a motionless and ineffable\nwhiteness; the wave curled over, with the spray all ready to slide\ndown its back; the hollows were arrested in their sinking, the\nripples frozen in their dimpling.\n\nThen when evening came there was a grand display of northern lights,\nthat pitched their tents of shifting rose and gold, with flags\nflying, and armies marching, and stained the snow with airy blood.\n\nCarl stood in the cupola with Edith and Clara clinging to him, both\na little uneasy, and told them stories of Thor, Odin, the Bifrost\nbridge, and Valhalla. What they saw was the Scandinavian gods\ncarousing, he said; or, no, it was a repetition of that fierce battle\nof olden time, when, at night, spectators saw the dead arise from the\nfield, float up into the air, and fight their battle over again in\nthe sky, that wild legend that Kaulbach painted on canvas.\n\n\"Carl,\" Edith said hesitatingly, \"I think that the truth is more\nbeautiful than any legend.\"\n\n\"But we do not know the truth about northern lights,\" he replied,\ntaking a scientific view of the matter.\n\nShe hesitated a moment. She was not used to speaking of what came\nnearest to her heart. But Father Rasle had given her a charge:\n\"Whenever you have a chance to say anything beautiful about God, say\nit. That is your duty.\"\n\n\"We know that God made them,\" she faltered.\n\n\"Oh! that spoils the poetry of it!\" Carl exclaimed involuntarily.\n\"Pardon me! but to speak of God is to remind me of long,\nsanctimonious faces and disagreeable ways, and of a frowning on\neverything graceful and grand and beautiful.\"\n\n\"It isn't right!\" she said eagerly, forgetting herself; \"for it is\nGod who has made everything grand and beautiful and graceful. When\nyou see a fine picture, or a piece of statuary, or read a good book,\nyou think of the artist, and admire him. Reading a play, the other\nday, you said, 'What a soul Shakespeare had!' and I heard you say\nonce that Michael Angelo was a god; and last night, when Melicent\nplayed a sonata you liked, you exclaimed, 'That glorious Beethoven!'\nWhy not say, 'That great God!' when you see the northern lights?\nBesides, God made Beethoven, and Michael Angelo, and Shakespeare,\nand taught them everything they knew. I do really think, Carl, that\nthe truth is more beautiful than any legend. Why isn't it as fine to\nsay, '_The God of glory thundereth_,' as to talk about Jove throwing\nthunderbolts? I don't see anything very admirable in Jove. And why\nisn't it as sublime for the sun to hang and shine, and the world to\ngo whirling about it, because God told them to, as for Ph\u0153bus to\ndrive the chariot of the sun up the East?\"\n\nShe turned her face, rosy with earnestness and northern lights, and\nlooked at him with her shining eyes.\n\n\"Why, Edith,\" he said, \"you're going to be a poet!\"\n\nShe shook her head, and hung it a little bashfully. \"No, I am not.\nBut King David was a poet.\"\n\nAnd so the matter dropped. But Edith had spoken her word for God, and\nmay be it had not been entirely lost.\n\nPerhaps we may be allowed here to say a word in defence of the\nweather as a subject of conversation. The assertion that Americans,\nand especially New Englanders, commence all acquaintanceships and\nall social conversations with an atmospheric exordium, has become\nclassical, and to mention that on any given occasion the weather was\nthe subject of conversation is to intend to be facetious. But let us\nquestion the good sense of this mockery. Are not the countless phases\nof the many-sided weather as noble, as beautiful, as profitable, and\nas harmless topics of conversation as ninety-nine out of a hundred\nthings which people do talk about? Is a dull or a wicked speech, a\ndull or a wicked book, a fashion, a horse, your neighbor's character,\na caucus, a candidate, even a song, or a bit of weather on canvas, a\nfiner topic?\n\nAh, the weather!--skies of infinite changes, inexhaustible palette in\nwhich the painter's imagination dips its brush; calms, nature holding\nher breath; winds, the nearest to spirit of any created thing;\nclouds, the aerial chemists of light; showers, overflowing spray from\nfountains suspended in air; rains, the asperges of the skies; fogs,\nfilmy veils which all the king's men cannot tear aside; droughts,\ncontinents in a fever; cold, the horror of nature, at which the\nsmall streams stiffen and die, the mountains whiten to ghosts, and\neven iron shrinks; heat, nature's angel of the resurrection blowing\nthrough the golden sunshine, and calling the flowers out of their\ngraves, and bringing the birds from afar--would that all the bad, the\nuncharitable, the silly, the cold, the complaining talk that on this\nearth vexes the ear of heaven could be changed to sweet and harmless\ntalk of the infinitely-varying weather, and of him who planned its\nvariety!\n\nAfter this protest and aspiration, it can be said of the Yorkes,\nwithout any intention of reflecting on their intelligence, that the\nweather had a good deal to do with their entertainment, from the\nspring round through the circle of flowers and snows, till beside the\nmelting drift they found the first May-flowers making their rosy act\nof faith in the coming summer.\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nCARL SEES HIMSELF IN A GLASS DARKLY.\n\nThe summer we are thinking of was 1851, and in the June of it Edith\nhad her sixteenth birthday duly celebrated by the family, and Clara\npublished her first book, an event of still greater consequence to\nthem.\n\nIn the June of this year, also, the Hon. Mr. Blank came down to\ndelight and instruct the voters of Seaton. Mr. Yorke was highly\npleased by this announcement. He had known the gentleman in Boston,\nand thought him eloquent. It would be pleasant to see and hear a man\nof note once more. \"Come to think of it, Amy,\" he said, \"we have\nbeen buried here four years, seeing nobody outside of the town. It\nwill be truly refreshing. We must have him here to dinner or tea,\nand we must all go to hear the address. It is to be in a tent on the\nfair-grounds.\"\n\nMr. Yorke was quite bright and interested. He had been living in\nseclusion long enough to appreciate the value of a little excitement.\nHe called on Mr. Blank at his hotel, the evening of his arrival,\nand had a very cordial and agreeable half-hour, talking chiefly of\npersonal matters, and old friends. Two or three other gentlemen\nwho were paying their respects to the senator withdrew after a few\nminutes, to Mr. Yorke's satisfaction. They were persons whom he did\nnot at all like.\n\n\"I am worn out,\" Mr. Blank said, leaning back in his chair, and\npoising his heels on the back of another chair. \"I have made forty\nspeeches in thirty days. But it pays. The excitement is immense.\"\n\nMr. Yorke was rather ashamed to ask what particular issue created\nthis excitement and palaver. The truth was, he was a little behind\nthe times. His four years had been years of vegetation, and he\nscarcely knew what his old friends were about. He had been so much\nengaged in filling up the maw of his avenues, coaxing exotics to\nbloom for the first time in his gardens, and reading novels--actually\nreading novels--that he was politically in the position of a man\nwho had had a four years' sleep. He was mortified and astonished\nto realize at this moment that he had been going over the Waverley\nnovels again, when he should have been reading the papers and keeping\nthe state of the nation in view.\n\nHis embarrassment was relieved by a loud shout that rose from a crowd\ncollected in front of the hotel. The gentleman for whom this applause\nwas intended took no notice of it, except by an impatient shake of\nthe head. He sipped a little from a tumbler at his elbow, and calmly\nlighted a cigar.\n\nThe shouting ceased, and the Seaton band--not the cast-iron band this\ntime--broke out in their finest style.\n\n\"Confound them!\" ejaculated the senator. \"Do they think I want to\nhear their noise? I am tired of Dodworth's and the Germanians; but\nthis! Why, it's all trombones.\"\n\nThe music ceased, and the shout went up again.\n\n\"They will have me out,\" groaned the hero of the hour. \"I've a great\nmind to be taken sick. Couldn't you go out and say I'm sick?\"\n\n\"No, sir,\" Mr. Yorke said decisively, \"I could not.\"\n\n\"Well, couldn't you go out and make a speech for me? You're about\nmy build. It's easy. I could say it in my sleep. Honored--free and\nintelligent people--your beautiful town--glorious cause, etc. Fill it\nin as you like.\"\n\nMr. Yorke laughed. \"I'm about half your build, and my voice is as\nmuch like yours as a crow's is like a nightingale's. Go along.\nWhen you've embarked in this sort of thing, you must take the\nconsequences.\"\n\nAs another and still more imperative call came up, the honorable\ngentleman rose with a yawn, and the two stepped out into the balcony.\n\n\"My dear friends,\" began the speaker in silvery-clear tones, \"words\nfail me to express the feelings which move my heart when I listen to\nthis generous welcome.\" (Applause.)\n\n\"Well for you that they do,\" parenthesized Mr. Yorke.\n\n\"Your approval honors you more than it does me,\" resumed the senator.\n\"For what am I but the mouthpiece by which you speak, as the\nthunder-cloud speaks by the lightning? The mass of the people gather\nthe truth, and it is their fire which informs the leader, and incites\nhim to utter it forth. They are the--\" (Immense applause.)\n\n\"The idiots!\" exclaimed the orator. \"They have broken into my best\nparagraph where it can't be mended. I must wind up.\"\n\n\"The fame of your town has reached me,\" he went on. \"I have heard of\nit as a place where freedom is not only loved, but adored, where\noppression is not only hated, but trampled on; and to-day, when\nI drove over the distant hills, and saw the white spires of your\nchurches rising out of the forests, they seemed to me like warning\nfingers pointing heavenward, as though the genius of the place bade\nme remember that the angelic hosts were witnessing if I and if you\nwere faithful to the sacred trust placed in our keeping.\" (Tempests\nof applause).\n\n\"That always takes,\" remarked the senator to his companion. \"Spires\nare trumps.\"\n\n\"My friends, to-night I am but a voice to you, but to-morrow we shall\nmeet face to face. Let not a man be missing. Seaton expects every\nvoter to do his duty. Again I thank you for your kind welcome, and\nwish you one and all good-night.\"\n\n\"What do they think a man is made of when they call him out to speak\nin a fog thick enough to slice and butter?\" grumbled the orator,\ngetting into his chamber again, and dropping the curtain between him\nand a second burst of music from the band.\n\nMr. Yorke raised his eyebrows slightly, and pursed out his under-lip.\n\"What glorious things have you heard of Seaton, and where?\" he\ninquired. \"I was not aware that it was famous.\"\n\nThe senator finished the contents of his tumbler, and wiped his\nmoustache carefully. \"I have heard that it is an infernally rowdyish\nlittle hole,\" he answered. \"I didn't care about coming here, but it\nwas in my stumping programme.\"\n\nMr. Yorke took leave, and went homeward very soberly. He was\ndisappointed and depressed, and nature seemed to sympathize with\nhis mood. The road was muddy, and in the thick fog and darkness\nhe could scarcely see the path at the side of it. When he turned\ninto the private way that led to his own house, the trees crowded\nabout, dripping, uncomfortable, and threatening, as if they had\nmet to impeach the clerk of the weather, and concert measures for\nthe putting down of this Scotch mist that was presuming to befog a\nfree, enlightened New England forest. When he reached the gate, Mr.\nYorke leaned on it a moment. \"Oh! for the laws of the Locrians!\" he\nexclaimed.\n\n\"Charles, is that you?\" asked a soft voice near.\n\n\"Why, Amy!\" returned the gentleman, starting.\n\n\"I was looking for you,\" Mrs. Yorke explained, taking her husband's\narm. \"I hate to have you come up this road alone.\"\n\nHer thin dress was damp, her hands cold, her heart fluttering. She\nhad been walking up and down the avenue for the last hour, listening\nfor her husband's step. How did she know what might happen to him?\nThe people were violent, and he was uncompromising and bold. Oh! why\nhad she consented to return to that place where her youth had been\nblighted? No good had ever come to her there, nothing but sorrow.\n\n\"O woman, woman! how you do torment yourself!\" Mr. Yorke ejaculated.\n\"You will have it that we are in danger. You will have it that we are\nbeing hanged, drawn, and quartered, if we are ten minutes beyond the\ntime.\"\n\n\"Would you rather we should care nothing about you?\" his wife asked\ntremulously.\n\n\"No, dear,\" he answered; \"for I know that your fears are in\nproportion to your loving.\"\n\nThe next day Mr. Yorke and his daughters went to hear the address.\nEdith remained at home with her aunt, who never went into a crowd.\nThe road, the tent, and all about it were full of people. The\nenthusiasm was immense. When the speaker appeared, the audience stood\nup, the men shouting, the women waving their handkerchiefs--what\nfor it would be hard to say. Probably they did not know themselves,\nunless they meant to express thus their admiration for success. For\nthis man was the very embodiment of worldly success. Wealth and\nhonors had come to him, not unsought, but without toil, and with\nlittle deserving. Success showed forth from his smooth, handsome face\nwith its bright eyes and ready smile, even from the plump white hand,\nat whose wave thousands of voters said yea or nay. His expression\nwas one of pleasant excitement and self-complacency, such as a man\nlike him may naturally feel in such circumstances. He was a fluent\nspeaker, had a musical voice, and a graceful manner.\n\nMr. Yorke listened to his exordium with great and anxious interest,\nand, as from generalities the orator gradually became more specific,\nhis face darkened. It was, in fact, nothing more than a Know-Nothing\ntirade, with the usual appeal to the passions instead of the reason,\nand the old hackneyed abuse of the clergy.\n\nMr. Yorke rose like a tiger. \"Come, girls,\" he said quite audibly. \"I\ncan't listen to any more of this trash.\"\n\nHis daughters followed him quietly; but, their seats being prominent,\nthey could not get out without exciting attention, and the first to\nsee them was the speaker. He faltered a little in his speech, and a\nfaint color rose to his face; but he recovered himself immediately,\nand waved his hand to stop the hisses that were beginning to rise.\nBut he felt the defection. He knew well that he was a politician, not\na statesman, and he would rather have had Mr. Yorke's countenance\nthan that of any ten other men present.\n\nMr. Yorke did not dine with the senator that day as he had promised\nto. \"When I made the engagement, I did not know that you had become a\nwire-puller,\" he wrote briefly, in making his excuse.\n\nMr. Blank's face paled slightly as he read the note, but he crushed\nit carelessly the moment after. \"Charles Yorke was always a hunker,\"\nhe remarked.\n\n\"Carl, I want you to print a leader from me, this week,\" Mr. Yorke\nsaid to his son that evening.\n\nWe have not said that Carl, having finished his law-studies, instead\nof practising, had undertaken the editorship of the Seaton _Herald_.\n\n\"I am afraid, sir,\" the young man replied, \"that, if you print your\nleaders in the _Herald_, you will have to pay the expenses of the\npaper, and insure the office against fire and mobs. At present the\ncirculation is very small, and I dare not say a word against the\nparty in power.\"\n\nThis paper was not, indeed, a very prosperous sheet; for the editor\ncould not lower himself to the majority of the people, and they could\nnot raise themselves to him. His politics were too little violent,\nhis tone too gentlemanly, his literary items and extracts too pure\nand high in tone.\n\nMajor Cleaveland and Hester were taking tea at the homestead, and,\nwhen after tea Edith went up-stairs to read a letter she had just\nreceived from Dick Rowan, there was quite a warm discussion of the\nevents of the day.\n\n\"After all, Mr. Blank is a strong speaker,\" Major Cleaveland said.\n\n\"A strong speaker!\" exclaimed his father-in-law. \"He is rank, sir!\"\n\nThe ladies interposed a little.\n\n\"I'm not a Know-Nothing,\" Hester's husband said; \"but neither do I\ncondemn them. Their charges are not all false. The Catholic party\nproclaim their theory, which is very fine, and say nothing about\nthe abuses which creep into their practice; their enemies denounce\nthe abuses, and give them no credit for their principles. I think\nthat the gist of the trouble is this: neither party will distinguish\nbetween the church and the clergy. When the body of Catholics will\ncheck their priests the minute they step out of their province or\nabuse their power, and when non-Catholics learn not to condemn a\nreligion for the sins of individual professors, then we shall have\npeace.\"\n\nThe ladies and Carl went out into the garden, and left the two\ngentlemen to their discussion.\n\n\"I often wonder, Carl, that you express no opinion on these\nsubjects,\" his mother said. \"You must have opinions. I almost wish,\nsometimes, that you would argue.\"\n\n\"Which side do you wish me to prove?\" he inquired listlessly. \"I can\nprove either.\"\n\nShe sighed. \"How you do need rousing!\"\n\nHe put his arm around her as they walked up and down the piazza. \"My\nopinion is, little mother,\" he said, \"that opinions are a bore. Who\nwants to be always listening to what other people think on subjects?\nNot one thought in a milliard is worth putting into words. I am sick\nof words, of gabble, of inanities.\"\n\n\"Yes, my son,\" she said gently. \"But one expects a man to give his\nopinion once for all on religious questions.\"\n\n\"It is not a religious question, mother: it is a question of\nreligions,\" the young man replied with a sort of impatience. \"There\nis no greater bore than that same question. Why does not each person\nbelieve what suits him, and hold his tongue about it, and let every\nother do the same?\"\n\n\"But truth! but truth!\" said the mother.\n\nCarl shrugged his shoulders. \"Everybody thinks he has it shut up in\nhis cranium.\"\n\n\"What! you renounce religion?\" she exclaimed.\n\n\"Not at all,\" he said. \"They are so many spiritual gymnasiums where\npeople exercise their souls. They are very pretty and amiable for\nwomen, and for men who need them; but there are those who do not need\nthem.\"\n\n\"Carl, you break my heart!\" his mother cried out, gazing through\ntears into her son's face. The boyish look had gone out of it. There\nwere weariness and sadness in it, and hardness, too.\n\nCarl was in a bitter mood that day, but he tried to soothe the pain\nhe had given. \"I'll do anything,\" he said laughingly. \"I'll turn\nCatholic. I'll go to hear John Conway. I'll read the _Dairyman's\nDaughter_. I'll teach a Sunday-school class.\"\n\nEdith came smiling out through the door. \"Such a nice letter from\nDick!\" she said, giving it to her aunt. \"And see, Carl, here is a\nlittle handful of sand from the Sahara, and here is an orange-blossom\nfrom Sorrento. It looks quite fresh.\"\n\nDick Rowan had that delightful way which so few letter-writing\ntravellers know of making their descriptions more vivid by sending\nsome illustrations of them. Writing from the south, he would say,\n\"While you are in the midst of snow, there is a rose-tree in bloom\noutside my window. Here is one of the buds.\" He had emancipated\nhimself from the letter-writers, and succeeded perfectly in his own\nway.\n\nThe next afternoon Mrs. Yorke sent for Mr. Griffeth, and saw him\nalone. \"What have you done to Carl?\" she exclaimed. \"Are you making\nan infidel of him?\"\n\nThe minister, confounded, tried to excuse Carl and defend himself.\n\nThe interview was not a pleasant one, and Mr. Griffeth was glad when\nit was over. He went out into the sitting-room where Melicent and\nClara sat; but their constrained manners did not encourage him to\nstay long. They suspected the subject of the conversation he had been\nholding with their mother.\n\nEdith sat on the piazza outside, studying. Her person was not in\nsight as he looked from the window, but a flutter of drapery on\nthe breeze betrayed her presence. Mr. Griffeth merely bowed to the\nsisters in passing, and went out on to the piazza. Edith sat in a low\nchair with a book of German ballads on her knees. By her side were a\ngrammar and dictionary. She was translating, watching thought after\nthought emerge from that imperfectly-known language, as stars emerge\nfrom the mists of heaven.\n\nShe glanced at the minister with a smile that was less for him than\nfor the stanza she had just completed.\n\n\"Salve!\" he exclaimed, bowing lowly.\n\n\"I am translating a song from the German,\" Edith said. \"Is not\ntranslating delightful? It is like digging for gold, and finding it.\nI have just got a thought out whole.\"\n\nThe song was that beautiful one which has been rendered:\n\n      \"The fight is done: and, far away,\n        The thundering noise of battle dies;\n      While homeward, glad, I wend my way,\n        To meet the sunlight of her eyes.\"\n\nEdith was looking very lovely. The vines curtaining the end of the\npiazza where she sat shut her into a green nook to which only the\nfinest sprinkle of sunshine could penetrate. The light, moving\nshadows flecked her white gown, and all the floor of the piazza about\nher,\n\n      \"Making a quiet image of disquiet,\"\n\nand a flickering in her hair. Carl, who was always dressing her out\nin some fanciful way, had fastened a drooping bunch of white lilies\nin her braids, and the petals, lying against her neck and cheek,\nshowed the difference between silver-white and rose-white. Her\nbeaming face made a light in the place.\n\nMr. Griffeth, stooping to see the poem, laid his hand on the book she\nheld, and she released it so suddenly that it had nearly fallen to\nthe floor.\n\n\"It is beautiful,\" he said, reading it aloud. \"Can you not fancy\nyourself that golden-haired lady, and that some warrior is coming\nhome to lay his honors at your feet and claim his reward?\"\n\nEdith looked away quickly, and let the air take the brightness of her\nface. He gazed steadily at her, and wondered for whom the brightness\nwas, or if it were only a girl's vague romance.\n\n\"I like soldiers,\" she said after a moment, and, though quiet, there\nseemed a slight stateliness in her manner. \"My grandfather was a\nsoldier all his life, and was as used to a sword as I am to a fan.\nMamma said that one of his mottoes was, 'Never reckon the forces\nof an enemy till after the victory.' It was written in one of her\nletters to papa. If I were a man, I should wish to be a soldier.\"\n\n\"I also am a soldier; I fight the devil,\" the minister said, with a\nslight, bitter laugh.\n\n\"Do you conquer him?\" she asked simply, but with the faintest little\nmocking smile.\n\nMr. Griffeth ignored the question. \"You have golden hair, like the\nlady of the song,\" he said hastily. \"If I were a soldier, Edith, and\ncame home to you from battle, would you welcome me as that lady did\nher lover?\" He touched her hair with his hand as he spoke.\n\nA bright crimson color swept over her face, and she stood up\ninstantly, drawing away from him, her eyes sparkling. Edith Yorke's\ninnocence was not of that kind which is divorced from dignity and\ndelicacy, and smiles at freedoms from everybody.\n\n\"Pardon me!\" the minister stammered, and at the same moment, to\ncomplete his discomfiture, perceived that the curtain to the window\ndirectly behind them had been drawn aside, and that Mrs. Yorke stood\nthere, flushed and haughty, with a look in her eyes which he had\nnever seen there before.\n\nHis case was desperate, he knew, but he made an effort to recover. \"I\nforgot myself,\" he said; \"but I assure you I meant no harm.\"\n\n\"What harm could you have meant, sir?\" said the lady, drawing herself\nup.\n\nIt was not an easy question to answer.\n\n\"You have probably made the mistake of supposing that the young\nladies in my family are as free in their manners as those in some\nother families you may know. It is a mistake. I have taken care that\ntheir education shall second and confirm what is always the impulse\nof a refined nature: to regard such freedoms as offences when coming\nfrom any one but the one chosen to receive all favors.\"\n\nMr. Griffeth might apologize, and the apology be civilly received,\nbut, when he walked away from that house, he felt that he would not\nbe welcomed in it again. And so the church in Seaton lost a friend\nand found an enemy. The next Sunday the most bitter anti-Catholic\nsermon of the season was preached from the Universalist pulpit.\n\nA few weeks after came a peremptory letter from Miss Clinton. She\nwanted Carl to come up to see her. What was he burying himself in\nthe country for? Was he raising turnips? Was he going to marry some\nfreckled dairy-maid? If he was, she did not wish to set eyes on him.\nWhat did they mean by leaving her to die alone, without a relative\nnear her? It was unnatural! It was a shame! Let Carl come at once. If\nhe pleased her, she would provide for him.\n\nMiss Clinton's promises were not very trustworthy in this respect,\nfor she had successively endowed and disinherited every one of her\nrelatives and friends. But that was no reason why her request should\nbe refused. She was a lonely old woman, and Carl must go to her.\n\nHe consented rather reluctantly, protesting that he would only stay a\nweek. But, when he got there, it was not so easy to tear himself away.\n\n\"A newspaper to edit?\" cried the old lady. \"What signifies a\nnewspaper in a little country town? Nobody ever reads it.\"\n\n\"Not when _I_ edit it?\" says Carl with a laugh. He found the old lady\namusing.\n\n\"No, not even then, Master Vanity,\" she replies. \"Stay here, Carl. It\nis miserable to be left alone so. I sha'n't keep you very long. You\nshall have any room you choose, and money enough to be respectable,\nand you may smoke from morning to night. There is only one thing you\nmay not do. I won't have a dog in this house, for two reasons: he\nmight go mad, and he might worry my cat. Will you stay? Old people\nlive longer when they have young ones about them; and, besides, I'm\nlonely. Bird torments me. She hints religion, and reads the Bible\nwhen she thinks I don't see her. I know she is searching out texts\nthat she thinks will fit my case. I am getting old, Carl, and I\nforget a little the arguments against all this superstition. They are\ntrue, but I forget them; and sometimes in the night, or when I feel\nnervous, the nonsensical religious stories I have heard come up and\nfrighten me, and I have nothing to oppose to them. Alice torments\nme, too. She is so sure, she _looks_ so much, she goes about with\nher religion just like a little child holding its mother's hand,\nwhile I am sure of nothing, and have nothing to lean on but this\nstick\"--holding out a cane in her shaking hand.\n\n\"It must be comfortable to believe so,\" she went on, after two or\nthree gasping breaths. \"I envy the fools who can. But I can't. My\nhead is too clear for that. And I want you here, Carl, to remind me\nof the arguments that I forget, and to talk to me when I am nervous.\nThey tell me that you are a free-thinker, and I know that you are\nclever. Stay, for God's sake! I suppose there may be a God.\"\n\nCarl shrank from the wild appeal in that frightened old face; shrank\nyet more from the horrible task assigned him. Unbelief, as he had\ncontemplated it, looked gallant, noble, and aspiring; but this\nunbelief seemed like a glimpse into that perdition which he had\ndenied. In this old scoffer he felt as if contemplating a distorted\nimage of himself. It was as if he had been asked to commit a crime, a\nsacrilege. There was such a crime as sacrilege, he saw.\n\nBut he could not refuse to stay.\n\n\"Perhaps it would be better for us both to look for arguments against\nthan for our theories,\" he said gravely.\n\nAnything, so that he did not leave her, she insisted. Indeed, she\nwanted his masculine strength more than anything else. Every one\nabout feared her, or was tenderly careful of her, but this young man\nhad already more than once good-naturedly scouted her notions. He was\none to be fearless and tell the truth, and she felt safe with him.\nBesides, he was a man, and clever, and it would not hurt her pride\nto be influenced by him. If her insensible and selfish heart felt no\nlonger the necessity of loving, it still felt the equally feminine\nnecessity of submission and sacrifice. Already in the bottom of her\nheart was a faint hope that Carl might insist on having a dog in\nthe house, and that she might show her dawning fondness for him by\nconsenting--a greater concession than she had ever yet made in her\nlife.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nA RIVAL FOR EDITH.\n\nDick Rowan came home in the spring of '52 to begin a new life. In\nthe first place, he was to have a ship of his own. Mr. Williams had\na beautiful ship almost ready to launch, and he was to be the master\nof it. He was to name it, too, that had been promised him; but what\nname he meant to bestow was as yet a secret to all but himself. What\ncould it be but the _Edith Yorke_? He had other matters to settle,\ntoo; he must become a Catholic. He had promised Edith that he would,\nif, on reading, he found he could do so conscientiously. He had read\na good deal, more than he liked, indeed, and saw nothing to object\nto. Besides, the fact that it was Edith's religion and the religion\nof his father's boyhood was a strong argument in its favor. There\nwas one other affair to settle, the thought of which made the color\ndrop out of his cheeks, and his heart rise in excited throbs. He had\nstudied it over and over during this last voyage, and his mind was\nmade up. Edith was almost seventeen years old, and he meant to speak\nto her. She must know now, if she ever would, whether she was willing\nto be his wife.\n\nPerhaps something said to him by Captain Cary had hastened his\ndecision. The captain had seen what his studies were, and been vexed\nby them.\n\n\"You are going too far, Dick,\" he expostulated. \"A man never should\nchange his religion for a girl's sake. She won't like you any the\nbetter for it. Besides, Dick, I can't help saying it, you are making\na fool of yourself. She will marry Carl Yorke.\"\n\nDick stared, reddened, then grew pale. \"I think not,\" he said\ndecidedly. \"Don't say that again, captain.\"\n\nThe first thing to be attended to, then, was his religion. He must be\na Catholic when he met Edith. Besides, if religion gives strength, he\nwould feel better prepared to put his fortune to the test. He went,\ntherefore, to a clergyman immediately.\n\n\"I do not wish to read any more, sir,\" he said. \"I do not like the\nway in which learned men prove their arguments to be true. It is\ntoo ingenious. It always seems to me that the other side could be\njust as well proved, if one were clever enough. I am willing to\nbelieve whatever is true. I cannot swear to any doctrine, except the\nexistence of a God and the divinity of Christ. Those two truths I\nwould stand by with my life. For the rest, I can only say that I\nplace my mind and heart passively in the hands of God, and ask him\nto direct them. I can do no more, except to say that, if I do not\nbelieve, neither do I disbelieve anything that has been proposed to\nme. Perhaps my head isn't a very good one; I dare say it is not. I\ncertainly do not like subtleties. It seems to me that all necessary\ntruth may be known and believed by a very ordinary intellect with\nvery moderate study. What I want in religion is what I find in the\nfaces of some of the poor people whom I see here at Mass in the early\nmorning, and I don't believe they got that out of books, or got it\nthemselves in any way.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" the priest said. \"What you saw in their faces was\nfaith, a pure gift of God. But you believe baptism to be necessary to\nsalvation?\"\n\n\"I am inclined to think so, but not sure,\" was the reply. \"If I were\nsure, then I should already have faith, which is what I come to ask\nfor. If it is necessary, I wish for it.\"\n\nThe priest mused. This was not a very fervent penitent certainly; but\nhe was a sincere one, and in his fine, earnest face the father read a\nlatent fervor and power of strong conviction which would be all the\nmore precious when aroused.\n\nDick mistook the father's silence for hesitation, and his real\nimpatience broke out. \"I am uneasy, sir,\" he said; \"I wish to be one\nthing or another.\"\n\nThe priest looked at him. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nDick paused a minute, resting his head on his hand, then raised his\nbright, clear eyes.\n\n\"What I say to a priest goes no further?\" he said interrogatively.\n\n\"Your confidence is safe with me.\"\n\n\"Edith said that I should tell you everything,\" Dick muttered,\nhalf to himself, and for a moment his dreamy eyes seemed to\ncontemplate the picture his mind held of her saying so. A smile just\nstirred his lips, and he went on. \"I was born an outlaw, sir. The\nconventionalities which keep many people straight had nothing to\ndo with me. Then I like adventure, and am hard to frighten. I have\nbeen about, and seen all sorts of people believing all sorts of\nthings, and one sort was as good as another, as far as I could see.\nThe effect of this is, of course, to make one liberal; but such a\nliberality, if a man has not a settled religious belief, unhinges the\nprinciples. There have been times when I have thought that it wasn't\nmuch matter what I did. I had half a mind to run away with Edith, and\nturn privateer.\"\n\n\"Who is this Edith?\"\n\n\"She is a little Catholic girl who was brought up with me, sir. I'm\ngoing to ask her to marry me, and I think she will. She is the only\nperson in the world whom I depend on, or who has any influence over\nme. I believe in her. She is as true as steel. And she believes in\nme. I can't fail her, sir. That thought has kept me from harm so far.\"\n\n\"It is a poor reason for being a Catholic,\" the father said in a\ndissatisfied tone. \"It is a weak hold on virtue when your motive is\nan affection like this.\"\n\nThe young man smiled with a sudden recollection.\n\n\"When we were at St. Michael's, last winter, there was a great\nstorm, and a vessel was wrecked close to the coast. We went down\nto the shore to see, but nothing could be done. One man swam to or\nwas washed to a little rock not far from the shore. There he lay\nclinging, with the waves breaking over him. He couldn't have held on\nlong, and we could not get to him any way. But Captain Cary brought\nout a big bow and arrow of his that always reminded me of Ulysses',\nfor no one but the captain, I believe, could bend it, and, in a lull\nof the wind, he shot a little cord over to the man, and the man drew\nit out. Hope revived his strength, I suppose, and it seemed as if the\ntempest waited for him. We tied a rope to the cord, and a larger rope\nto that, and he drew it out, and tied it to the rock, and we saved\nhim.\"\n\nThe priest smiled. \"Very true. We rise, we are saved sometimes by\ndegrees, and this little hold may be tied to a stronger. Go out into\nthe church, and make the prayer of the blind man, 'Lord, that I may\nreceive my sight.' To-morrow morning I will baptize you. I find you\nsufficiently instructed.\"\n\nThat evening Dick made a request of the priest. \"When men were to be\nknighted, in olden times,\" he said, \"they used to keep a vigil in the\nchurch. Now, if by baptism I am to be made fit to enter heaven at\nonce, changed from a child of the devil to a child of God, why, it is\nworth thinking about. It is a great thing to happen in a man's life,\nand it happens but once. I would like to keep a vigil in the church.\nI could think there better than anywhere else.\"\n\nThe priest hesitated. He hardly knew what to think of this mingled\ncoldness and fervor.\n\n\"Besides,\" the young man added, \"you say that Christ is there\nbodily. I would like to watch with him one night. It seems to me\nwrong to leave him alone there now, when he is to do so much for me\nto-morrow.\"\n\nThe priest consented. \"But do not fancy that the Lord is alone,\nthough his earthly children forsake him,\" he said. \"Doubtless the\nplace is crowded with angels and archangels.\"\n\nDick gazed steadfastly at the priest, and for a moment lost himself.\n\n\"Then, perhaps,\" he began hesitatingly, but broke off there. \"No, if\nhe had preferred the company of angels, he would have remained in\nheaven,\" he said. \"It will be no intrusion. He comes here to be with\nman.\"\n\nNight came on, the church was locked, and all was dark save a small\ngolden flame that burned suspended in air. A watcher sat far back in\none of the seats, but after a while drew nearer, still sitting, not\nkneeling. The whole place was full of silence and a sense of waiting.\nIn the shade, the stations hung unseen, but not unfelt. He had seen\nthem that day, and they spoke through the dark, \"Here he fell! Here\nhe was struck! Here he was nailed to the cross!\"\n\nThere was in this darkness and silence such a vacuum of the earthly,\nthat the heavenly seemed to break through the thin wall of sense and\nflow around the soul.\n\nWhen the priest came in at daybreak, he found his penitent prostrate\nbefore the altar. After Mass was over, the baptism took place.\n\nThe father was struck by the countenance of his convert. It wore a\nrapt and exalted expression, and he appeared to see nothing of what\nwas visibly before his eyes.\n\n\"God bless you!\" he said to Dick on going out of the church. \"Come to\nsee me. And for a while try to think of God entirely, and not of Miss\nEdith Yorke.\"\n\n\"Sir,\" said Dick quietly, \"I have thought of Edith Yorke but once\nsince I entered the church last night; and then it was as though the\nBlessed Virgin put her aside and stood in her place.\"\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nA PAGE OF THE PAST AND A SHADOW OF THE FUTURE.\n\n\nIt is, perhaps, hardly to be believed, in this new country whose\nmental geology grows and changes so quickly that one stratum of\nthought and of circumstances is gone even before one has had time\nto analyze it--it is, perhaps, hardly to be believed that the\nshadow of the penal laws in the mother-country should still cloud\nwith lingering touches the reminiscences of a yet unfaded life.\nYoung people whose ideas and education belong to this century can\nstill remember one of those priests of old--one of those silent\nchampions--whom the English law made outcasts from their kind, and\nfair game for their enemies.\n\nSuch a one was James Duckett, the pastor of a scattered flock that\ncovered the plain of Gresham, of historic memory, to the fort of\nEdgehill, the last standpoint of the \"lost cause\" of the Stuarts.\n\nThe way in which his retreat was discovered, by a party of Catholics\nfrom one of the large country-houses of Gloucestershire, was very\namusing as well as interesting.\n\nThey were returning from a picnic at a charming old Tudor\nmanor-house, one of the seats of the Marquis of Northampton, by name\nCompton-Wyniatts, and where the family tradition asserts a portion\nof the Royalist army to have lain hidden the eve of the terrible\nbattle of Edgehill. The house is full of holes and hiding-places,\nsliding-panels, and trap-doors, great ghostly chambers, and funereal\nbeds, not to mention the vast cobwebbed garrets which the soldiers\nare alleged to have occupied. It has a very deserted appearance, and,\nindeed, its owner hardly ever lives there; but it is picturesque in\ninverse ratio of its desolation. Just outside the front courtyard is\nthe lawn, shaded by chestnut-trees, and here the picnic took place.\n\nReturning home, and passing through the hamlet of Brailes, two\nmiles from Compton-Wyniatts, the party observed some curious things\nlying on the roadside hedges. Upon examination, they proved to be\necclesiastical vestments, and evidently genuine Catholic property,\nritualism being as yet unknown in the country districts of England.\nIt turned out that they belonged to Mr. Duckett, and the whole party\nrepaired to Mr. Duckett's house. This was a cottage in a little\ngarden, with a hay-field between it and the old parish church,\nProtestant now, but once the only home these costly vestments should\nhave known. There was the old man, the priest of the past, in the\nhomely peasant garb, now abandoned by the peasants themselves, in\ncoarse blue woollen stockings and a snuff-colored coat, and leather\ngarters at the knee. Huge-buckled shoes were on his feet, and a\nthickly-folded neckcloth was wound stiffly round his throat. I saw\nhim myself, later on, when the existence of this living relic of the\npenal days was better known among the county circle. The lower room\nof his cottage, stone-flagged and bare, was a little school where\na few children were taught catechism and reading; the upper rooms\nwere reached by a steep wooden staircase _outside_ the house. Here\nwas a \"large upper chamber, furnished,\" and this was the chapel. It\nwas as cold, and bare, and poor as it could well be; the roughest\nworkmanship was displayed in the altar, the rails, and the benches.\nThe raftered and thatched roof that was immediately above was broken\nand untrustworthy, and the rain of the last thunder-shower had\ndiscolored both it and the floor below. The small sacristy, off the\nchapel, was in the same state of decay and dilapidation; hence the\ndamage done to the vestments that had been put out in the sun to dry.\nMr. Duckett had treasures here that many modern churches might, and\nwith reason, have envied. The vestments--especially a white cope and\na gold-embroidered chasuble--were very rich and beautiful, and such\nas must have been, no doubt, a gift from some persecuted Catholic\nfamily to the persecuted temple of God. But, better still, there was\na small leaden chalice, said to have been used by many of the martyrs\nof Tyburn, by special permission given in consideration of the\ndifficulty of obtaining gold and silver vessels for sacred purposes,\nand of the probable sacrilege and spoliation the known existence of\nsuch vessels would provoke. And, among other things, there was also a\nlittle bell, wide and round, like a low-crowned hat, and four little\nclappers inside, making a sweet chime when the bell was shaken. This\nwas afterwards copied by the modern artificers of Birmingham, but\nthey could not transmit to their copy the mellow, time-harmonized\ntone of the original.\n\nIn Mr. Duckett's sitting-room, a small, unpretending, and homely\nnook, was the portrait of his revered and beloved patron, Bishop\nBishop, in Mr. Duckett's youth the only and supreme ecclesiastical\nauthority in England. The priest was an old man now, seventy-five or\nthereabouts, but his heart was true yet to his friend and patron,\nwhose praises he was never tired of repeating. He told, also, how,\nalthough parishes had been formed around him and churches had grown\nup at his side, yet once his duties carried him on midnight rides and\nto distances of forty or fifty miles, for a sick-call or a promised\nand occasional Mass at some one of the many places that claimed his\ncare. Broadway, a village at the foot of the Coteswold Hills, just\nat the edge of the fruitful plain or vale of Gresham, was one of\nthese stations, and now, as for many long years past, there stands\nin its midst the Passionist Monastery of St. Saviour, the novitiate\nhouse for the province of Great Britain. Two hundred Catholics and\na spacious church, model schools under government inspection, and\nconfraternities of many kinds, have turned the far-off hamlet, where\na few stray and hunted Catholics were hidden, into a very centre of\nreligion for twenty miles around. Wordnorton, the hunting-box of the\nDuc d'Aumale, and Chipping-Campden, a thriving little mission on the\nopposite ridge of the Coteswold, are both served from the monastery\nat Broadway; and so great is the personal ascendency of the monks,\nand so universal their popularity, that they need not fear the letter\nof the law, and _do_ often contravene it by walking abroad in their\nmonastic habit.\n\nHere is one of the changes that have occurred in the straggling field\nof Mr. Duckett's early labors; and, while all this is happening\naround him, the calm old man waits for his summons in the same homely\nand unobtrusive dress he has sanctified by his daily work in the\nvineyard of Christ.\n\nIt is said, and I believe with truth--at least, I _hope_ so--that\nthe monastic garb of all religious orders was originally modelled on\nthe coarse habiliments of the poorest and simplest of mankind--the\nshepherds and husbandmen of the hard-working rural districts. If so,\nit suggests a very beautiful and a very happy thought, and brings\nbefore our eyes the many parables in which God's church is likened\nto a field, a vineyard, an orchard, a garden. Tillers of the soil\nand sowers of the grain, reapers of the harvest and fosterers of the\nvine, are priests and deacons, bishops and monks; and all through\nsacred history runs this touching parallel. Nowhere is religion\nwithout her crown of nature's weaving: the blossoming rod and the\nsceptre of Christ's jurisdiction are one.\n\nAnd so, to return to our friend, the priest and pastor of a forgotten\nand happily buried age of persecution, God's voice called _him_ in\ntime, and among the many who daily wait in the temple's outer court\nhe was chosen to blossom forth in a higher life, and to wear his robe\nof glory in a nobler place than that where he had clothed himself\nlike the poor and the unnoticed, and only wore by stealth the sacred\ngarments of his priesthood.\n\nHe died in the year 1866, if I mistake not, and his place was filled\nby a young man, newly ordained, as if to bear witness how suddenly\none state of things had died away and another had come in its stead,\nbut also, perchance, to point out to us--too secure in our present\nsafety--that as quickly as freedom had followed persecution, so we\nshould be ever ready to see persecution follow freedom.\n\nAnd in these days, surely, we dare not think such a past as that of\nEnglish religious intolerance so far from us as that it should never\ndraw near us again, and renew itself in many shapes of tyranny and\nhorror. And this, not only in England, where religious persecution\nmay suddenly emerge from the apparent extreme of religious\nindifference, and where it may be carried on, some day, on members of\nall Christian communities, no longer in the name of a state church or\na general catechism, but in the name of rabid hatred to a Creator,\nGod, and senseless chafing against _any_ constituted authority--not\nonly, I say, may this happen in England, but in other lands, Eastern\nand Western, old and new.\n\nWe see it to-day in red-handed France and Judas-tongued Italy; we\nmay see it elsewhere to-morrow. Persecution is an instinct of the\nbrute; what is not after its own kind, it has no desire to spare. The\nprevailing systems of philosophy--if we may so degrade the word whose\nfirst meaning is love of wisdom--tend to the apotheosis of the brute,\nand the negation and indignant repudiation of anything in man above\nthe brute. When this task shall be completed, and man _educated_ into\nthe right usage of his newly-discovered nature, what are we to expect\nbut persecution in one form or another from the new lords of the\ncreation, the new monarchs of the system of materialistic supremacy?\n\nThere is a new and subtle alchemy running through the so-called moral\nworld, the Areopagus of modern thinkers. Of old, all things might be\nresolved into component parts, of which _gold_ was infallibly one;\nnow, all men must be resolved into perishable parts, of which _each_\none is stamped with the brand of the brute.\n\nIt is a sad contrast, and no doubt it would be needless to define\nwhich of the two is the more harmful theory. Let us pass now from\nthe life of the hidden pastor of an obscure village to an incident,\nperhaps hardly better known, in the career of one of the apostles\nof a great and glorious city, the same whose comeliness has been so\ncruelly brought low, and whose desolation at this moment reminds\none too forcibly of the plaint of the prophet Jeremiah over doomed\nJerusalem.\n\nThe P\u00e8re de Ravignan, whose name is a household word in France, and\nwhose influence over the young men of his day was something all but\nmiraculous, was summoned one night to attend a sick-call. A carriage\nwas in attendance; the two men who had come for him represented\nthe case as of the greatest urgency, but refused to take him with\nthem unless he suffered himself to be blindfolded. After briefly\nhesitating, he complied with this strange request. The times were\ndangerous, revolution was hovering like a storm over the state,\nsecret societies were in ever-watchful and almost infallibly secure\nfermentation. He himself was a well-known man, a representative\nman, one whose voice was ever raised uncompromisingly against\nthe foes of law and order--one whose life was every day exposed,\nin consequence of his grand fearlessness of conscience, to the\nmachinations of hidden and treacherous enemies. A less suspicious man\nmight have feared a snare in this strange condition of blindfolding\na priest called to a death-bed, but the blood of the old race of\n_gentilhommes_ that was fast disappearing, added to the courage of\nthe consecrated line of God's ministers that never disappears, made\nthe Jesuit strong in this hour of peril, and he forgot himself to\nthink only of the sinking soul to whose aid he was summoned. He took\nthe holy oils and the viaticum with him, and left the house in the\nRue de S\u00e8vres in the carriage that was waiting at the door.\n\nThey drove off rapidly; his companions pulled down the blinds, and\neffectually shut out any daylight that might straggle in. The motion\nof the vehicle, however, and the many sudden jerks it gave, indicated\nturnings and corners as being constantly doubled, and even suggested\nthe not unlikely idea that this was done on purpose, with the object\nof confusing the priest's recollection. The two men preserved a dead\nsilence all the time. At last the carriage stopped; the door was\nopened, the P\u00e8re de Ravignan helped out, and conducted up a wide\nstaircase; doors were opened and shut, and then the bandage was taken\nfrom his eyes, and he found himself in a large anteroom, handsomely\nand massively furnished.\n\n\"In the end room of this suite of apartments, you will find the\nperson who requires your ministry,\" said one of his guides.\n\nHe passed room after room with the windows darkened, and rich\nfurniture giving a sumptuous air to the large and airy saloons, but\norder reigned everywhere. He saw neither sign of confusion nor heard\nany sound of sorrow, nothing to indicate the presence of death or\nmortal sickness. He began to fear that in truth he had been snared by\nsecret enemies, and that it was his own death he had to expect as the\n_d\u00e9nouement_ of this solemn masquerade. The last door was reached;\na curtain hung across the entrance, and the chamber was darkened.\nOne lamp burned in the furthest recess. He looked in vain for signs\nof sickness; there were none. The room was a drawing-room, and was\nfurnished much like the rest. But soon a form rose to meet him,\ncoming slowly from the luxurious lounge near the solitary lamp. It\nwas that of a young man, very handsome, and fashionably dressed. He\nlooked pale and anxious, and his hands trembled slightly as he moved.\nYet sick to death he certainly was not. Was this his executioner, or\nsome part of the ghastly pageant of his own coming doom? The priest\npaused, and the young stranger said, in eager, hollow tones:\n\n\"_Mon p\u00e8re_, it is for _me_ that you are here. I am going to die. I\nshall be dead within twenty-four hours, but I obtained this favor\nthat I might first make my peace with God.\"\n\n\"My son, what does this mean?\" asked the priest. \"You are not ill!\"\n\n\"No; yet I shall not see to-morrow's sunset. I dare say no more. I\nmust make my confession.\"\n\nAn hour went by; the solemn mysteries that pass unseen and\nundreamt-of by the careless world soothed and comforted the doomed\nman. We know nothing further, nor can we ever know aught concerning\nthis dread interview on the very threshold of invisible death; but,\nthe priest's duty done, the young man craved his blessing and his\nprayers, and took an agonizing farewell of the last human being who\nwas to show him mercy and promise him forgiveness.\n\nReluctantly, sorrowfully, the priest parted from the victim, and\nwended his way through the splendid rooms, whose beauty now seemed so\nbaleful, as though it were but the refinement and gloss of cruelty,\nthe gay mask that hid the torture-chamber.\n\nAt the door of the anteroom, the same silent guides were watching\nhis return, and, again blindfolding him, led him out of the gates\nthat closed on such strange mysteries, and hid from view such\nappalling possibilities of horror.\n\nHow many might there have been of these human holocausts, immolated\nin silence, perchance without the gracious respite allowed this _one_\nvictim! How many might there have been, perhaps priests, beguiled by\na lure such as he had thought his own carrying-off to be, and never\nallowed to go forth again, as _he_ was being providentially helped\nto do! And what other crimes besides silent murder might have taken\nplace in that mysterious and seemingly demon-guarded house!\n\nThese and other thoughts not unlike them must have pressed painfully\non his overstrung mind, as with the same precautions, turnings,\ndoublings, and joltings the P\u00e8re de Ravignan was driven back to the\nhouse of his order, the sinister guides in whose hands his life had\nhelplessly and inevitably lain for several hours preserving yet that\nimpenetrable silence and seemingly respectful behavior, which in\nthemselves were enough to shake the courage of most men.\n\nThe house was all astir. Every one had been anxious for the safe\nreturn of the superior from his mysterious and perilous errand; for\nperilous they had intuitively felt it to be, and had indeed once\nattempted at first to follow the carriage. This, however, had been\ncleverly frustrated by the well-instructed driver.\n\nSearch was made next day by the secret police for any house answering\nthe only description the priest could imperfectly give; inquiries\nwere instituted concerning the disappearance of any person answering\nthe minute description given by the confessor of his young penitent;\nbut although the police swore that they knew every house, and could\nput their finger upon every individual in Paris, yet not a single\ntrace could be discovered of anything unusual having taken place in\nthe city.\n\nAnd there the mystery remained and was forgotten, and came to be\nrelated only as a tale of dread and wonder, and was only known\nto few. Even so the secret organization itself, for nothing but\nvagueness surrounded its palpable though ever-invisible existence,\nand some believed that the _parti pr\u00eatre_ invented stories of its\nhorrors, and others thought they exaggerated the importance of its\ninfluence.\n\nThen came '48, with its wild volcanic outburst all over Europe,\nand under the name of freedom a modern _Vehmgericht_ convulsed\nand tortured the civilized world. Those who had pooh-poohed its\nexistence or underrated its strength were the first to crouch before\nits explosive power. Persecution began again, for we all know the\nstory of revolutions, and how the final court of appeal was always\ndeath. What mattered it that the persecutors handled the axe, the\nguillotine, or the rifle, instead of the scourges, the _fasces_,\nthe swords of the Roman lictors? Amphitheatres there were, and wild\nbeasts to tear the Christians in pieces, although the former were\ncalled public squares, and streets, and gardens, and the wild beasts\nwere hideous human forms. One Archbishop of Paris in '48 was shot\ndown--perhaps by chance, but who can tell save only God?--on the\nbarricades, as he was trying to quiet the infuriate rabble; another\nArchbishop of Paris followed him in '71, more foully murdered\nin shear demoniac wantonness, because order and authority were\nrepresented in his person, and because to be a child of God was a\nburning reproach offered to the godless and soulless Commune.\n\nThus, two ages of persecution join hands within a short half-century,\nand in one life, yet in its prime, two figures are prominently and\npersonally interwoven: the old peasant priest who almost dreaded to\nhave the sanctuary lamps lighted for fear of attracting unwelcome\nnotice, so imbued was he with the idea that before the law a Catholic\nmust need be a criminal; and the intrepid Jesuit, having secret\ndangers in the fulfilment of his ministry, and knowing full well\nthat, before the self-styled law of lawless _liberty_, to be a priest\nis to be nothing better than a dog.\n\nSome talk lightly of these things that are passing as of mere\nebullitions that cannot fail to be quelled; but where is the power\nto quell, the power to charm these serpents, to humanize these\nsavages? Gone from the kings of the earth, who have abjured the aid\nof religion, who have expelled her from the schools and colleges,\nand repudiated her offices in the most solemn and tender relations\nof life. Gone from the philosophers of this century, who control the\nthoughts of millions by pandering freely to their passions, and whose\nfirst axiom is that everything that is _natural is right_. Gone from\nthe timid politicians, whose precarious object is, not the happy and\nsteady consolidation and progress of the state, but the maintenance\nof themselves and their creatures in office, and the increase of\ntheir hoarded fortunes. Gone, too, from the poets and artists, who\nshould clothe truth and religion in dignified and attractive forms,\nbut whose dearest aim is but to court popularity by encouraging vice.\nGone, in a word, from all whose mission it is to raise and guide the\npeople, simply because they find it more profitable to grovel with\nand follow them.\n\nAnd religion stands this day as our divine Lord stood centuries ago\nin the Garden of Gethsemani, with lukewarm and timid disciples in\nnumbers, and with a Judas striving with honeyed words to betray her.\nThe sword she may not use, nor any earthly weapon; for, if God would\nhave it so, could he not send her twelve legions of angels? But no;\nshe stands as he stood, unarmed; and when she preached with the voice\nof princes and commanded through the mouth of statesmen, no one\nattacked her, even as the Jews did not apprehend Jesus when he taught\nopenly in the synagogue. But when worldly power was taken away, when\nconcordats were broken, when heresy rose up in her midst, the enemies\nof the church fell upon her, and in their onslaught tore up kingdoms\nby the root and trampled order in the dust. The crushed ones look\nto her--\"they shall look upon him they have pierced\"--imploringly,\nbut _they_ had tied her hands, _they_ had crippled her in the days\nof their triumph, and the deluge breaks over them and annihilates\nthem, while it tosses the church on its turbid waves, and at each\nangry toss only lifts the Ark of the Covenant safer and higher toward\nheaven.\n\nWe may be only at the beginning of a scathing trial: we may be almost\nat its end. We have seen the blood of the martyrs flow once more; we\nhave seen '71 rival '93, and the Mazas Prison reflect the _Massacre\ndes Carmes_; elsewhere we see the spectre of blood not yet let loose,\nbut hiding impatiently behind the spirit of sacrilege and spoliation.\nPerhaps this is the hour before the dawn; perhaps only the first\nwatch of the night. But let us not think that the nineteenth century\nbears a charmed life, and that we dwellers in it have a prescriptive\nright to a safe and easy-going existence. We must be _for_ the\nchurch, _in_ her, _with_ her _of_ her; be hers in spirit and in\ntruth, \"not merely pause and hesitate at the threshold, or linger\nwithin the outer courts.\" This is the hour of conversions, for the\nnext may be the hour of martyrdom. And above all, it is the hour for\nsound philosophy, that will lead us firmly by the hand into the haven\nof faith, and show us that, to be a good citizen, one has need to be\na perfect Christian.\n\nTruth is one; and just as water will rise to its own level, so all\nparticles of truth will lead to the fountain of truth. The church has\nsolved all problems, and fulfilled all yearnings, and realized all\nideals long ago; and while men are seeking what they severally want,\nthe church has offered it to thousands of their forefathers before\nthey themselves were ever born to seek it.\n\n\n\n\nSANCTA DEI GENITRIX.\n\n\n      Mother of God! My Queen is simply this.\n        For this elected, the eternal Mind\n      Conceived her in its infinite abyss--\n        With the God-man co-type of human kind.\n        And she, when came the wondrous hour assigned,\n      Conceiving her Conceiver, girt him round,\n        And held in her Immaculate womb confined\n      That Essence whom the heavens cannot bound!\n      Then brought him forth, her little one, her own;\n        And fed her suckling at her maiden breast--\n        The only pillow of his earthly rest,\n      And still for evermore his dearest throne\n      O Lady! what the worship faith allows?\n      The Eternal calls thee Daughter, Mother, Spouse!\n\n\n\n\nLIQUEFACTION OF THE BLOOD OF ST. JANUARIUS.\n\n\nOn the nineteenth day of September, there will be gathered together\nfrom five to eight thousand persons in the grand cathedral of Naples,\nto witness again an occurrence which, though it has been witnessed\nthousands of times already, never fails to fill the beholder with\nastonishment and awe. Perhaps one-half of the crowd may be from the\ncity of Naples itself. A large portion comes from other parts of\nItaly. Many are from Austria, Illyria, Hungary, Bavaria, and Prussia,\nRussia, England, France, and Spain. Some are from the Western\nhemisphere. And Moors, Egyptians, Arabs, and Turks, ever travelling\nalong the shores of the Mediterranean, are here, too, raising their\nturbaned heads among these thousands in the cathedral, as intent and\nas filled with emotion as any around them.\n\nThe greater part of that crowd believe that they are witnesses of a\ndeed done by the direct will and power of God--a miracle; and very\nnaturally their hearts are filled with awe and devotion. Others,\nagain, are in doubt what to believe on the point; but they have come\nto see, and to see exactly for themselves what really does occur.\nOthers, again, are sure beforehand that it is all a trick. They will\nspare no pains to detect the fraud.\n\nWhat is it they are all assembled to see? The large cathedral in\nwhich they stand fronts on a little square to the north. At the\nsouthern extremity is placed the grand sanctuary and high altar, with\na large and rich basement chapel underneath. On either side of the\nchurch above, there are, as is usual in Italian churches, small side\nchapels and altars; but about the middle of the western side a large\narchway gives admission to a very large chapel--to-day the centre\nof attraction. We might call it a small church. The Neapolitans\nname it the _Tesoro_. It is cruciform, and a well-proportioned dome\nrises above the intersection of its nave and transept. Towards its\nwestern extremity, and opposite the crowded archway or entrance\nfrom the cathedral, stands its elevated high altar; six other\naltars occupy the transept and sides. The main altar stands about\nfive feet forward, out from the solid stone wall of the building.\nBehind that altar, in the massive masonry of the wall, is a double\ncloset, closed by strong metal doors, and secured by four locks. From\nthis closet, at nine A.M., is first taken out a metal life-sized\nbust, held to contain what remains of the bones of the head of St.\nJanuarius, bishop and martyr, who was put to death in the year 305.\nThis bust is placed on the main altar, at the Gospel end. Next, an\nold and tarnished silver case is brought out from the other side of\nthe same closet. All eyes scrutinize it. The front and the back of\nit, or, rather, both faces of it, for they are alike, are of heavy\nglass, securely fastened to the silver frame. Looking through these\nplates of glass, the interior of the case is seen to contain two\nantique Roman vials of glass, held securely in their places above\nand below by rude masses of soldering, black with age. The vials are\nof different patterns, both very common in the museums of Roman\nantiquities. The smaller one is empty, save some patches of stain\nor pellicle adhering to the interior of its sides. The other one,\nwhich might hold a gill and a half, is seen to contain a dark-colored\nsolid substance, occupying about four-fifths of the space within the\nvial. This substance is held to be a portion of the blood of the same\nmartyred saint, gathered by the Christians when he was decapitated,\nand ever since carefully preserved. Ordinarily it is hard and solid,\nas it well may be fifteen hundred and sixty-odd years after being\nshed. The case, or _reliquary_, as it is properly called, is borne\nto the main altar, and a priest holds it midway between the middle\nof the altar and the bust, that is, about a foot from the latter.\nPrayers are said; hymns, psalms, and litanies are recited by the\nclergy kneeling near. Meanwhile, from time to time the priest moves\nthe reliquary from side to side, that he may see whether the expected\nchange of the substance within the vial has taken place or not; and\nhe presents it to the bystanders crowded around him on the steps\nof the altar, that each one in succession may reverently kiss it\nand closely scrutinize its condition. At length, after a greater or\nsmaller lapse of time, perhaps in a few minutes, perhaps only after\nseveral hours, perhaps after many hours, the solid mass within the\nvial becomes liquid--perhaps instantaneously, perhaps rapidly, at\ntimes more slowly and gradually, several hours elapsing before the\nchange becomes complete. Sometimes only a portion of the mass becomes\nliquid, the remaining portion floating as a still hard lump in the\nliquid portion. This change is what is known as _the liquefaction of\nthe blood of St. Januarius_, and is what these thousands have crowded\nthe _Tesoro_ chapel and the cathedral to witness.\n\n[Illustration: RELIQUARY CONTAINING THE VIALS OF THE BLOOD OF ST.\nJANUARIUS AT NAPLES.\n\nSCALE--_Nearly one-half natural size_.\n\nA, A, Dark and rough masses of soldering holding the vials in place.\nB, B, Stains or pellicles of the blood on the interior of the smaller\nvial.]\n\nIt has occurred repeatedly each year for centuries back. It occurs in\npublic under the eyes of thousands. Accounts of it were written by\nlearned men and by travellers before the invention of printing. In\nthese latter centuries, accounts of it have been published in Latin,\nin Italian, in Polish, in English, French, German, and Spanish--we\npresume, in every language of Europe. Some are written by devout\nbelievers in the miracle; some by candid but perplexed witnesses, who\nexamined for themselves and are afraid to come to a conclusion; while\nothers that we have seen are filled with such mistakes, both as to\npersons and events and to established regulations, that we felt the\nwriters had themselves seen little or nothing. They had merely got a\nhint from one and a suggestion from another, and had filled out the\nremainder from the storehouse of their own imagination.\n\nWe are privileged to insert a full account, written by an American\neye-witness in 1864. We are unwilling to abbreviate it too much,\nalthough the reader will find in it thoughts we have already\nexpressed or may hereafter have to dwell on:\n\n    I had for years determined that, if ever I had a\n    chance, I would go to Naples to see myself the\n    celebrated miracle. This year gave me the desired\n    opportunity, and I would not neglect it. Leaving\n    Rome by railway, on September 17, I reached Naples\n    that evening, and early the next morning went to the\n    cathedral to introduce myself, to say Mass, and to\n    take a preparatory look. The cathedral is an immense\n    semi-Gothic building, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin,\n    to St. Januarius, and to other patron saints of the\n    city. St. Januarius, a native of Naples, was Bishop\n    of Benevento (a city some thirty miles, inland),\n    and was apprehended in the days of persecution\n    under Diocletian, held in prison, exposed to the\n    wild beasts without harm, and finally beheaded near\n    Puzzuoli, about five miles from Naples, in the year\n    305. His head and body were taken by the Christians,\n    and transported--probably by night, certainly in\n    secrecy--across the bay to the southern shore, and were\n    entombed, between Mount Vesuvius and the sea, on the\n    farm of a Christian called Marcian. It was the custom\n    of the Christians to gather, as far as they possibly\n    could, the blood shed by their martyrs, and, placing\n    a portion of it in glass vials, to deposit such vials\n    in the tombs. In the catacombs at Rome such vials in\n    a niche are the surest sign that a martyr was there\n    deposited. You can still see some of them, or fragments\n    of them, in the opened vaults or niches of the\n    catacombs. The vials within have a thin, dark-reddish\n    crust, showing still where the blood reached in the\n    glass. A few years ago, a chemical analysis of a\n    portion of such crust or pellicle, made by direction\n    of his Holiness, fully confirmed this historical and\n    traditional statement of its origin. Such vials are\n    also to be seen in multitudes in the Vatican and\n    other Christian museums, and in the churches to which\n    the remains of the martyrs have been transferred. As\n    St. Januarius was a prominent Christian, and as his\n    martyrdom attracted the earnest attention of all, we\n    may and should naturally suppose that his case was no\n    exception, and that a portion of the blood was gathered\n    in his case, and, as usual, that the vials containing\n    it were deposited with the body in the tomb.\n\n    In the year 385, peace having been fully restored,\n    and Christian churches built, and things quieted, the\n    remains of St. Januarius were solemnly transferred from\n    their original resting-place to Naples, and were placed\n    in a church or chapel dedicated to him, and situated\n    just outside the city walls. _San Gennaro extra muros_\n    still stands, though, of course, the first building\n    has been replaced by a second, a third, I believe by a\n    fourth church. Here, henceforth, near their martyr and\n    patron saint, the Neapolitan Christians wished to be\n    buried. And when an oath was to be taken with the most\n    binding force and obligation, it was administered and\n    taken before the altar where lay enshrined the remains\n    of this great Neapolitan saint. In course of time--it\n    is not precisely known when, or by what archbishop--the\n    head of St. Januarius and the _ampull\u00e6_ or vials\n    containing his blood were transferred into the city,\n    and placed in some church--probably in the cathedral,\n    where we know that, eight hundred years ago, they were\n    carefully and reverently preserved in the cathedral,\n    _Tesoro_ or treasury, as they called the strong,\n    vaulted chamber of stone in which the relics of the\n    saints were safely kept. The body of the saint was left\n    in the church _extra muros_. It was afterwards taken\n    to Benevento, thence to Monte Vergine, and in 1497 was\n    transferred to Naples, and now lies under the principal\n    altar of the subterranean crypt or basement chapel,\n    beneath the sanctuary of the cathedral.\n\n    The cathedral itself is, as I said, a large semi-Gothic\n    building, over three hundred feet long and one hundred\n    and twenty wide, lofty, well-proportioned, and filled\n    with columns, frescoes, marbles, statuary, paintings,\n    and gilding, very bright and very clean. It fronts on\n    a small square to the north. The sanctuary is at the\n    southern end. In the west side of the building is a\n    large, open archway, about thirty feet broad and forty\n    feet high, with a lofty open-work railing of bronzed\n    metal, and of very artistic design. A folding-door\n    in this railing, of the same material, opens twelve\n    feet wide to usher you into another good-sized church\n    or chapel, called the new _Tesoro_ or chapel of St.\n    Januarius, commenced in 1608, by the city, in special\n    honor of the saint, and in fulfilment of a vow, and\n    consecrated in 1646. It is nearly in the form of a\n    Greek cross, over a hundred feet from east to west, and\n    about eighty from north to south. The arms are about\n    forty feet wide, and at their intersection a cupola\n    rises to over a hundred feet above the level of the\n    floor. It is said this chapel cost half a million of\n    dollars. If so, the city fathers got the full worth\n    of their money in rich marbles, in mosaics, frescoes,\n    bronze and marble statues, and in every sort of finest\n    decorations. There is a complete service for this\n    chapel, entirely distinct from and independent of that\n    of the cathedral proper--a dean, twelve chaplains,\n    other minor assistants as needed, and a thoroughly\n    supplied sacristy. In this _Tesoro_ chapel are no less\n    than seven altars; the main one, to the west, opposite\n    the entrance from the church, another grand one, and\n    two subsidiary ones on either side of the chapel. There\n    is also a fine organ. The main altar stands about\n    five feet forward from the rear wall of the building,\n    leaving thus a commodious passage-way between them.\n    In the massive stone wall itself, to the rear of the\n    main altar, are two armories, adjoining each other. In\n    one of them, that to the south, the relic of the head\n    of St. Januarius is kept; in the other, to the north,\n    are preserved the vials containing his blood. These\n    armories, which I might call a double armory, are in\n    the solid masonry, and are closed by strong gilt metal\n    doors, about thirty inches broad and fifty inches high,\n    each secured by an upper and a lower lock.\n\n    So much I saw at this visit in the cathedral and in the\n    chapel. The afternoon I devoted to a visit to Puzzuoli,\n    and the scene of the martyrdom of St. Januarius and\n    his six companions. On the way, we stopped to look at\n    and enter the reputed tomb of Virgil, and we passed\n    through the grotto of Posilippo. As the carriage rolled\n    on over the smooth macadamized road, the Bay of Naples\n    stretched away on our left in all its beauty, smiling\n    and rippling in the September breeze, just as it did\n    on the day they were beheaded. Before us was Puzzuoli,\n    once the beautiful summer resort and watering-place for\n    the richest nobles of ancient Rome, often graced by\n    the presence of the emperor himself, and still a place\n    of pretension. On our right, hills and vineyards and\n    olive groves stood now as they stood then. The palaces\n    and houses which the saint looked on are all gone; but\n    their solid stone foundation walls have not perished,\n    and other houses of more modern aspect rise on them.\n    The mineral springs at the foot of the hills are still\n    the same, and in the same repute; and hundreds are\n    still going to them, or meet us returning after their\n    baths. Here and there, alongside our smooth modern\n    road, we see patches of the old Roman pavement, large,\n    irregularly-shaped slabs of hard stone, lying now much\n    less evenly than they did when senators, and consuls,\n    and prefects, and Roman nobles loved to walk along this\n    road, to enjoy the beautiful scene, and to drink in the\n    healthful evening breezes that came to them over the\n    Mediterranean.\n\n    We reached Puzzuoli, and its narrow, crooked streets\n    soon led us to the summit of a knoll or spur of the\n    hills, now a little back of the modern city. Here the\n    ancients had placed their amphitheatre. Its remains\n    are still well preserved. The galleries for the\n    dignitaries, the seats for the spectators--it could\n    hold 15,000 at least--the arena, where the gladiators\n    fought and fell, and where wild beasts tore each other\n    or destroyed their human victims, are all still to\n    be easily recognized. We entered a cellar or masonry\n    chamber under the lofty seats. Here the victims were\n    kept until the hour came for thrusting them forth into\n    the arena in the centre. It is now a chapel, with\n    a single plain altar, at which Mass is celebrated\n    from time to time. A votive lamp hangs down from the\n    arched masonry above The walls are plain and void\n    of ornament. The place needs little decoration. Who\n    can kneel there, and not feel his heart swell as he\n    remembers St. Januarius and his companions kneeling and\n    praying, and awaiting their summons? It came, and they\n    were led forth. We went, too, to the arena. Here they\n    stood, sustained by the constancy of faith. There is\n    the seat aloft of the prefect and his attendants and\n    officers, who condemned these Christians to death by\n    the wild beasts, and have come to look on the bloody\n    drama. There, all around, rising backwards, row above\n    row, are the seats, filled then by thousands hoarsely\n    screaming, \"_The Christians to the lions!_\" To their\n    voices answered the angry growls and roars of lions and\n    panthers, shut in their dens beneath--those recesses in\n    the masonry below the lowest, the front rank of seats.\n    For one or two days past the beasts have been deprived\n    of their food, that they might be more furious and\n    eager for the tragedy. Excited by the clamor, maddened\n    by hunger, frenzied, too, perhaps by the sight of the\n    victims, whom they could see through the bars of their\n    doors--for perhaps they had already had experience of\n    such feasts--the beasts walked impatiently from end to\n    end of their small prisons, glared and growled through\n    the bars, or impatiently strove to tear them down. The\n    prefect gives the signal: the multitude is hushed in\n    silent expectation. The servitors hurry forward to the\n    edge of the seats above, and with cords and pulleys\n    are lifting upwards the heavy doors in their grooves.\n    The iron grates against the stone as it mounts. Soon\n    out from below into the arena leap the ravenous wild\n    beasts. They rush on, each one intent on seizing a\n    victim. They crouch, as is their nature, for a final\n    spring, fastening their glaring eyes on the martyrs;\n    but they spring not. The eye loses its glare; the\n    stiffened mane and bristling hair become smooth, and,\n    with moans almost of affection, they draw themselves\n    gently over the sand up to the martyrs, and fawn on\n    them and lick their feet. There will be no bloody\n    tragedy here to-day. God vouchsafes to the prefect\n    Timotheus and to these multitudes another proof of the\n    saintly character and heavenly authority of these men\n    whom they would slay. Some, we may hope, were awed,\n    and believed, and returned to their homes with hearts\n    yielding to the grace of God; but not so the prefect,\n    nor the majority of that crowd. \"Sorcery! Witchcraft!\n    Chaldean superstition!\" they cried. \"Away with the\n    dangerous magicians! If they can do this, what can they\n    not do? Who is safe? Slay them at once!\" The prefect\n    ordered them to be led out to the top of a neighboring\n    hill, and to be beheaded on its summit in the sight of\n    all and as a warning to all. We followed the steep and\n    narrow old Roman road up which they must have walked.\n    The rains have not yet washed away all of the old\n    Roman pavement. Vines and olive-trees and flowers of\n    richest hues shade it and beautify it now, and were not\n    wanting to it in those days of imperial luxury. To our\n    martyrs it was the road to heaven. No earthly beauty\n    could cheer them as they were cheered by Christian\n    faith and the firm hopes of quickly reaching a blessed\n    immortality. We reached the spot of execution, the\n    level top of a knoll, overlooking some part of the\n    city, the beautiful bay, Puzzuoli, and much of the\n    neighboring country. A little church stands here now,\n    served by a small community of Capuchins, who hold\n    the faith of the martyrs, and try to imitate their\n    virtues; who seek first the kingdom of heaven and its\n    righteousness, and hope that, like the martyrs they\n    honor, they may pass from this consecrated spot to the\n    abode of bliss. Here the saint and his six companions\n    were beheaded. The Capuchins showed us in the church\n    a stone, now inserted in the wall and carefully\n    preserved, said to have been stained by his blood, and\n    still to show the stains. They said, too, that, when\n    the blood of St. Januarius liquefies in Naples, these\n    stains grow moist and assume a brighter reddish color.\n    This I had no opportunity of verifying. Here, too, we\n    might almost guess the route down the precipitous sides\n    of the hill to the waters of the bay, almost under our\n    feet, by which that night the Christians bore the body\n    of the saint to their boat. Across the bay, five or\n    six miles off, we could see the houses of Torre dell'\n    Annunziata, near where they landed with it. A little\n    back lay the farm of the Christian where they entombed\n    it. A Benedictine monastery from the sixth century\n    marked the spot....\n\n    As you may well suppose, night overtook us before we\n    got back to Naples. The next morning, I went to the\n    cathedral again. It was the 19th of September, the\n    festival proper of the saint--the day of his martyrdom\n    and entrance into heaven. The exposition of his\n    relics, during which the liquefaction usually occurs,\n    commences at nine A.M. I was at the door of the chapel\n    at half-past eight. I found the chapel already crammed\n    and jammed. Still, way was made for me somehow. I went\n    to the sacristy, and was then conducted back to the\n    chapel, and into the space behind the main altar, in\n    front of the armories, to await the hour appointed. Of\n    course, the crowd could not yet enter the sanctuary of\n    the main altar, much less pass behind the altar. Only\n    five or six privileged persons were there. Mass was\n    being celebrated at the altar itself. That over, we sat\n    and waited, and I asked questions on the all-absorbing\n    subject.\n\n    Since the building and opening of this new _Tesoro_\n    chapel--that is, since A.D. 1646--the relics are in\n    the keeping of the Archbishop of Naples and the city\n    authorities conjointly. Everything is regulated by\n    the long and minute agreement then entered into by\n    all parties. I said each door of the armories has two\n    locks. The archbishop keeps the key of one, the city\n    authorities the key of the other. The armories cannot\n    be approached except through the open chapel, and\n    cannot be opened, save by violence, unless both parties\n    are present with their keys.\n\n    I was patiently waiting for nine o'clock to strike. Our\n    number was increasing. At last there joined us behind\n    the altar a tall, thin, gentlemanly man, all in black,\n    about forty-five years of age. He was introduced to me\n    as Count C----, the delegate to-day on the part of the\n    city. He bore a large red velvet purse or bag, with\n    gold cords and braiding, very rich in its workmanship.\n    Opening its mouth, he drew forth two good-sized,\n    long-handled antique keys with complicated wards. They\n    were connected by a steel chain, strong and light,\n    about fifteen inches in length. The cardinal, Riario\n    Sforza, is absent in Rome, driven into exile by Victor\n    Emmanuel's government; but before leaving he gave his\n    keys in charge to one of the chief ecclesiastics of\n    the city in his stead. Accordingly, a canon of the\n    cathedral soon appeared, bearing another red velvet\n    bag, something like the first, but not so rich, and,\n    moreover, somewhat faded. He, too, took out of his bag\n    two good-sized, long-handled keys, equally antique\n    in their look and complicated in their wards, and\n    similarly connected by a steel chain. Count C----\n    inserted one of his keys in the lower lock of the\n    armory to the south, and turned it. We heard the bolt\n    shoot back. The pious-looking canon was short, and\n    the upper lock was rather high, so they placed some\n    portable steps in position. He ascended them, and\n    inserted one of his keys in the upper lock. That bolt\n    shot back, too; and he swung the heavy metal door open.\n    We looked into the interior of the armory, about two\n    feet wide, three and a-half or four feet high, and\n    sixteen or twenty inches deep, in the masonry of the\n    wall. It was lined with slabs of white marble, and a\n    scarlet silk curtain hung down towards the front. A\n    thick metal partition divided it from the other armory.\n    One of the chaplains of the _Tesoro_ then mounted the\n    steps, and took out from the armory a life-sized bust\n    of St. Januarius, of silver gilt. A mitre on the head\n    of it, and a short cope which had been put on the\n    shoulders, designated his episcopal character. In the\n    head of this bust are contained the relics of the head\n    of the saint.\n\n    We know precisely when this bust was made; for in the\n    spring of 1306 an entry was made in the account-books\n    of Charles of Anjou, then sovereign of Naples, stating\n    how much silver and how much gold from the king's\n    treasury had been given to a certain artificer as\n    materials, and how much money was paid to him for\n    his workmanship, in making this very bust. In making\n    it, he modelled the features after a very ancient\n    bust of the saint, still existing in Puzzuoli. In the\n    archiepiscopal diary, relative to St. Januarius, under\n    the date 13th September, 1660, there is a long account\n    stating that, it being perceived that the relics inside\n    this bust had become somehow displaced--as well they\n    might after 355 years--the cardinal archbishop, on that\n    day, in the presence of all requisite witnesses, had\n    the bust opened by a goldsmith; himself reverently took\n    out the relics, and held them in his hands until the\n    goldsmith had repaired the damage; that his eminence\n    then reverently replaced the relics, properly sealed,\n    and had the bust closed as before, and in all this\n    carefully observed the prescriptions of canon law.\n    Since then, everything has been untouched.\n\n    Four other chaplains, with torches, attended the\n    chaplain whom I saw take out this bust, and it was\n    borne in procession round to the front of the altar,\n    and deposited on the altar itself, just where the\n    missal would stand when the Gospel is read. They then\n    returned to the armory.\n\n    Count C---- with his second key unlocked the lower lock\n    of the other--the northern armory. The little canon\n    again mounted the steps, unlocked the upper one, and\n    swung back the metal door. We looked into the armory:\n    it was just the fellow of the first--size, marble\n    lining, red silk curtain, and all. The same chaplain\n    then, as before, took out the reliquary containing the\n    _ampull\u00e6_ or vials of the blood. I will describe it.\n    Conceive a bar or thick plate of silver, about two and\n    a-half inches wide and about sixteen inches long, to\n    be bent until it forms a ring or circle of about five\n    inches diameter. Let a circular plate of glass of the\n    requisite diameter be inserted and firmly fastened to\n    the edge of the silver ring on one side, and a similar\n    plate of glass be also inserted and firmly fastened to\n    the other edge. You will thus have, as it were, the\n    centre-piece of an ostensory, five inches across and\n    two and one-half inches through, with a silver rim, and\n    glass plates forming the front and rear. On the top,\n    let there be a little ornamental scroll-work, cherubs\n    and their wings, and a central stem rising upward, and\n    bearing an oval crown three inches by two inches, and\n    above that a small elegantly-worked silver crucifix.\n    Below the circular rim, attach a round, hollow bar of\n    silver, about one inch in diameter and three inches\n    long. It will serve as a stem to hold the reliquary by,\n    or as a foot which may be inserted into an opening\n    fitted to receive it. The reliquary may thus be kept\n    upright, whether it be placed on a stand on the altar\n    or put away in its armory. This reliquary is strong\n    and plain, with very little ornamentation on the\n    silver, but that, they say, in very good style. Inside\n    this frame, or case, or reliquary, between the front\n    and rear glass, and perfectly visible through them,\n    stand two _ampull\u00e6_ or vials of glass, both fastened\n    to the silver rim at top and at bottom by rough,\n    irregular masses of dark soldering. They are held to\n    be the identical glass vials in which a portion of the\n    blood of St. Januarius was poured at the time of his\n    martyrdom, which were laid in his tomb, and, in 385,\n    were brought with his body to Naples, and which have\n    ever since been carefully and reverently preserved.\n    They are of the old Roman patterns and material. One\n    may see hundreds of just such vials in the museums of\n    Naples and Rome. One of them is long and narrow, like a\n    modern vial, yet not so even and symmetrical. The neck,\n    too, does not narrow in the manner of modern vials. A\n    fillet runs three or four times round it just below\n    the neck. Perhaps it was an ornament; more probably\n    it was intended by the maker to prevent the little\n    vial from slipping when held between the fingers. The\n    other _ampulla_ or vial is of a different pattern. Its\n    height is the same; the neck is a little higher up,\n    and is encircled by a single fillet of an undulating\n    curvature. The lower portion swells out until it is two\n    inches in diameter, and the vial would hold, I judge,\n    about a gill and a-half. In the interior of the first\n    _ampulla_, I saw two patches resembling the pellicle\n    which I had seen, at Rome, left on the inner surface\n    of the glass vases after the martyrs' blood originally\n    contained in them had entirely evaporated or passed\n    away. The other vial, THE AMPULLA, contains a substance\n    ordinarily hard, dark, with a reddish or purple hue,\n    and filling ordinarily three-fourths of the space\n    within the vial, perhaps a little more. This substance\n    is held to be a portion of the blood of St. Januarius,\n    still retained in this vial, in which it was originally\n    placed on September 19, A.D. 305.\n\n    In this description of the reliquary and the _ampull\u00e6_,\n    I have, of course, summed up the result of all the\n    careful and scrutinizing observations which I had the\n    opportunity of making. I have not been able to learn\n    when this silver reliquary or case was made. No entry\n    is found settling the point, as in the case of the\n    bust. The style of ornamentation on the silver case\n    and on the crown would indicate about the same epoch\n    of art. But I am inclined to think it the earlier made\n    of the two. Charles of Anjou showed himself to be too\n    liberal in the matter of the bust to be suspected of\n    being a niggard in preparing the reliquary, and those\n    coming after him would have felt bound to be guided by\n    the example of his liberality. It was probably made\n    some time before the year 1300, possibly even by Roger,\n    King of Sicily, who visited Naples about A.D. 1140.\n\n    But to go back. As the chaplain took the reliquary out\n    from the armory, he examined it, and said, \"_E duro e\n    pieno_\"--\"_It is hard and full._\" In fact, the larger\n    vial, as he showed the reliquary round to each one\n    of the eight or ten persons behind the altar, and as\n    I most clearly saw it, was filled to the very top, I\n    could not be mistaken in that; but whether the contents\n    were liquid or solid, I really could not tell. For the\n    very fulness prevented any change being visible, at\n    least to my eyes, in that uniformly dark mass, even\n    if the contents were liquid, although the reliquary\n    was moved freely from side to side, held horizontally,\n    or even reversed. After we had each one venerated and\n    fully examined the reliquary, the canon, with his\n    attendants bearing torches, bore it in procession to\n    the front of the altar, and showed it aloft to the\n    people. I followed immediately behind, and ascended the\n    steps of the altar with them. On the platform in front\n    of the altar, we were four: 1. The chaplain, holding\n    the reliquary in his hands by the stem I have spoken\n    of. He stood facing the altar, or leaning over it,\n    between the middle and the Gospel end, where now stood\n    the bust. 2. In front of the bust, and close to the\n    first chaplain, on his left, stood a second chaplain,\n    bearing a lighted taper in a silver hand candlestick.\n    He would sometimes hold this in such a position, eight\n    or ten inches off from the reliquary and behind it,\n    that the light from it would shine on the interior,\n    so that the observer would not be troubled by the\n    reflection of the ordinary light from the surface\n    of the plate of glass next to him. 3. Count C----,\n    the city delegate, stood at the right of the first\n    chaplain, and, therefore, in front of the middle of the\n    altar. It is his sworn duty not to lose sight of the\n    precious reliquary from the moment the doors of the\n    armory are opened at nine A.M., until it is replaced\n    there, and duly locked up, about half an hour after\n    sunset. He cannot retire from his post at any time,\n    unless his place is supplied by an alternate delegate,\n    who has been chosen, and who, I was told, had promised\n    to come by 11 A.M. 4. Next to Count C----, I stood, or\n    rather knelt, until the people crowded so on me that I\n    positively had not room to continue in that position.\n\n    The people, now that the Mass had been over for twenty\n    minutes or so, had entered the sanctuary, or had been\n    introduced into it. They completely filled the space\n    within the rails; they stood crowded on the steps; they\n    even invaded the platform itself, not a very large one,\n    forcing the attendant chaplains, who had borne the\n    torches in the procession, and who now remained to join\n    with the two chaplains at the altar in the prayers, to\n    retire somewhat, and kneel in a group, off at the end\n    of the altar; forced the count and myself of necessity\n    to stand; and just left a little room for the two\n    chaplains to turn in, barely sufficient.\n\n    As I stood up, I could see the crowd. The chapel\n    was filled; there are, you know, no pews or seats\n    in Italian churches; all were standing as closely\n    as possible together. The sanctuaries of the side\n    chapels were equally crowded; men stood on the steps\n    and platforms of their altars; the very bases of the\n    columns were turned to account to afford a lofty\n    standing room. And such a crowd! Earnest, intensest\n    curiosity was marked on every face. The way it mingled\n    with awe and devotion was at times rather ludicrous.\n    Hands were clasped in prayer, and heads were bowed,\n    and the lips were reciting something most devoutly;\n    when up the head would be almost jerked, eye-glasses,\n    spectacles, and, a little further off, opera-glasses\n    and lorgnettes would be levelled at the reliquary for\n    a minute or two; and then down with them, and again at\n    the prayers. There were Frenchmen, Germans, Englishmen,\n    Spaniards, and Americans; strangers of every nation.\n    And these had made their way, of course, closest to the\n    altar; at least they predominated in my vicinity. In\n    the body of the chapel, the Neapolitans and Italians\n    stood. The crowd reached to the railing under the grand\n    archway, and beyond that filled the west aisle of the\n    cathedral church, and stretched across the nave and\n    the east aisle to the chapels opposite. The last stood\n    nearly eighty yards off.\n\n    These Neapolitans, too full of faith and brimful\n    of devotion on this day, and always exceedingly\n    demonstrative in their manner, gave full way to their\n    feelings, and were praying aloud or nearly so. The\n    common people of Naples have a habit of modulating\n    their voices while speaking, running up and down the\n    gamut in a way quite novel to us. You heard those\n    tones, not inharmonious, from the thousands who were\n    praying in various pitches. Some were in groups,\n    chanting or half-singing the litanies; some groups\n    were reciting the rosary devoutly; others united in\n    the acts of faith, hope, and charity; and still others\n    in prayers and hymns appropriate for this occasion,\n    and in their own Neapolitan dialect. To me it seemed a\n    perfect Babel. But no one could for an instant look on\n    them, and doubt the earnestness of their faith and the\n    intensity of their devotion.\n\n    My attention was soon drawn to one group, or rather\n    line, of a score of elderly women, from 50 to 80 years\n    of age, strung along outside the sanctuary railing,\n    from the centre door of it to the Gospel end. They\n    all joined in one chorus. They all spoke so loudly,\n    their tones were so earnest and modulated, and their\n    position made them so prominent, that I asked who\n    they were. I was told they were the ancient matrons\n    of certain families in Naples who have ever claimed\n    to be the blood-relatives of the saint; and, by right\n    of prescription and usage, they occupy that position\n    along the altar-rails on occasions of the exposition\n    of the relics. They were evidently poor, very poor. It\n    touched me to see here a dignity of descent claimed and\n    recognized far beyond that based on wealth or worldly\n    position--a dignity which nobles might crave in vain,\n    and yet from which their poverty and daily drudgery do\n    not debar these simple souls. I said they were old.\n    Among them and close to them stood younger women and\n    girls, other members, I presume, of their families, who\n    at present prayed in lower tones, inaudible, or, at\n    least, not noticeable, in the crowd of subdued voices\n    When they become grandmothers, I presume they will take\n    more prominent positions, and feel privileged to pitch\n    their voices in shriller tones. I thought at first\n    there was one exception. I heard a clear, bell-like,\n    treble voice, which generally led their chorus of\n    litanies or prayers, and which never seemed to tire.\n    But I was mistaken in the supposition. I at last traced\n    the voice. It was that of an elderly woman who will\n    scarcely see sixty again. She stood in the line, tall,\n    thin, emaciated. Her brow was lofty; her eyes clear,\n    and blazing with animation; her cheeks sunken in,\n    not a tooth left; and, as she spoke, her broad chin\n    seemed to work up and down a full inch. She wore a\n    clean, old, faded calico gown, without any starch in\n    it; and around her head was wound, like a turban, a\n    bright, stiffened, red and yellow bandanna, reminding\n    me somewhat of the respectable colored _maumas_ I had\n    seen in the South. Her voice was clear and sweet, and\n    she made free use of it. Others might tire, or rest, or\n    suspend their clamorous prayers for a while; but she,\n    no, she never tired, and her voice was ever heard among\n    the rest, like a clear trumpet stop in a full organ.\n    It was delightful, at last, to watch her occasionally,\n    as she kept her eyes fixed on the bust of the saint on\n    the altar, and every feature of her countenance kept\n    changing to express the sense of her words. Were she\n    not in church, her hands and arms and whole body, I am\n    sure, would have joined in the movements. As it was,\n    she confined herself to bowing her head, or turning it\n    slowly from side to side, yet always keeping her eyes\n    fixed on the altar. I had seen, many times, earnest,\n    silent, tearful prayer. Here I witnessed equally\n    earnest, _noisy_ prayer. I might come to like it, but\n    only after some time and after many trials.\n\n    While this universal hubbub of prayer was filling the\n    church, the chaplain, still holding the reliquary\n    in his hands by the stem beneath, bent over the\n    altar, and, with the other chaplains and those of the\n    bystanders who joined in, recited the _Miserere_ and\n    other psalms, and the Athanasian Creed, and various\n    prayers. His face glowed with the intensity of his\n    feelings. He kept his eyes earnestly fixed on the\n    reliquary, from time to time moving it over from side\n    to side, and examining it. Sometimes he rubbed the\n    glass face, front or rear, as necessary, with his white\n    pocket-handkerchief, that he might see more clearly\n    the interior. Sometimes the other chaplain held the\n    candle in a proper position to aid his inspection.\n    In about five minutes, he turned round with the\n    reliquary to the people, and held it up, with the\n    candle behind it, that all might see. He let those\n    near look as scrutinizingly as they wished, reached\n    it to each one of the ten or fifteen on the platform\n    and upper steps to kiss it, and, if they chose, as, of\n    course, they did, to examine it, at six or ten inches\n    distance. He then turned to the altar as before, and\n    the litany of the saints was recited, with some other\n    prayers. In about five minutes more, he again turned\n    towards the people, and gave the immediate bystanders\n    another opportunity to examine the reliquary closely\n    as before. Then again to the altar for other psalms,\n    hymns, and prayers. This alternation of prayers at\n    the altar, holding the reliquary near the bust, and\n    of presentations of it to the bystanders and the\n    crowd, every five minutes or so, continued for over\n    half an hour. But no change was visible. Once he left\n    the altar, and making his way--I could not imagine\n    how--into the crowd outside the sanctuary in the body\n    of the chapel, gave to those to the right and left of\n    his route a similar opportunity. On another occasion,\n    he went down again; but this time he turned to the\n    right, and went along the line of \"relatives.\" How\n    their fervor increased, how their demonstrations became\n    more energetic, their words more rapid, their chorus\n    fuller, their voices louder and shriller! He came back;\n    but still no change. The alternations continued as\n    before.\n\n    At last, a little after ten o'clock, I saw a change.\n    I think I was the very first to perceive it. On all\n    the previous times and up to this, the _ampulla_ or\n    vial was perfectly full, as I had seen it when first\n    taken out of the armory. I now noticed a faint streak\n    of light between the substance in the vial and the\n    top, or, rather, the mass of solder into which the top\n    of the vial entered. I was sure it had not been there\n    before. I could scarcely see it now. This time, as\n    on several other occasions, the chaplain came twice\n    or thrice around the ring of immediate bystanders,\n    those at first in front courteously giving way that\n    others might in turn come forward. But I, of course,\n    retained my place. As he came round the second time,\n    and approached me again--I was within the line or\n    semi-circle--I saw that the streak of light was now\n    clear and unmistakable. It caught the eye of an earnest\n    little Frenchman who, for the last half-hour, had been\n    pressing against me, at times rather inconveniently.\n    He burst right out: \"Don't you see the light in it? It\n    is changing! It is liquefying!\" The chaplain now looked\n    at it attentively, moved it from side to side a little,\n    rubbed the glasses with his white handkerchief, looked\n    again, but went round the circle of bystanders a third\n    time. Again he examined it. By this time the streak\n    of light had become half an inch broad. He moved the\n    reliquary from side to side slowly. We saw the vacancy\n    now left above yield and follow his motions, just as\n    the air-bubble does in a spirit-level, clearly showing\n    the contents of the vial to be _now perfectly liquid_.\n    Some looked on in silent awe; some shed tears; some\n    cried out, \"_Miracolo! miracolo!_\" The chaplain waved\n    his white handkerchief in signal that it really was so.\n    Rose-leaves in quantities were thrown up from the crowd\n    outside the sanctuary, and rained down on us. A dozen\n    little birds that had been held captive in the baskets\n    with the roses were liberated, and rose circling\n    upwards to the windows of the dome. The grand organ\n    burst out in the _Te Deum_. The vast crowd with one\n    voice took up the hymn, almost drowning the full tones\n    of the instrument. The bells of the cathedral tower,\n    in full chimes, sent the announcement over the city,\n    and the hills and valleys around, and over the quiet\n    waters of the beautiful bay. All the bells of the other\n    churches of Naples chimed in, and quickly the cannons\n    of the Castle of Sant' Elmo joined in the chorus with a\n    grand national salute.\n\n    Meanwhile, hundreds were approaching the altar to see\n    with their own eyes that the blood was liquid, and to\n    venerate the relics. Another chaplain now relieved the\n    first, and continued to present the reliquary to those\n    who were crowding up. I still retained my position. The\n    blood continued to diminish in volume, until it sank so\n    as to be a full half-inch below the neck of the vial.\n    It was perfectly liquid, and, when the reliquary was\n    turned or inclined, it ran off the up-raised sides of\n    the _ampulla_ at once leaving no more trace behind than\n    would so much water.\n\n    After half an hour or so, the bust and the reliquary\n    were carried in procession out from the chapel into\n    the cathedral. The procession moved down the western\n    aisle towards the doors of the church, turned into the\n    grand nave, and advanced up to the sanctuary. The bust\n    was placed on the high altar, and the canons of the\n    cathedral replaced the chaplains of the _Tesoro_ chapel\n    in the duty of presenting the reliquary to the people,\n    as they approached in undiminished numbers to venerate\n    and inspect it.\n\n    At eleven, I said Mass at the altar where I had\n    witnessed the liquefaction. After the Mass, I went\n    into the church, and spent another half-hour there.\n    Thousands pouring in from the streets were still\n    flowing in a constant stream towards the high altar. A\n    little after twelve, I left....\n\n    Next morning, I said Mass again on the same altar at\n    eight A.M., and before nine o'clock was again at the\n    doors of the armories. Count C---- came punctually with\n    his bag of keys. So did the little canon on the part\n    of the archbishop. I was told that the sacred relics\n    had remained exposed all day, after I left, on the high\n    altar of the cathedral, the blood remaining liquid all\n    the time; and that, about dark, they had, according to\n    rule, been brought back to the _Tesoro_ chapel, and\n    had been locked up, as usual, for the night, in the\n    armories. This morning, they were to be again brought\n    out. Count C---- and the canon used their keys just\n    as yesterday. The bust was taken out, and carried in\n    procession to the front of the altar, as before. Then\n    the other armory was opened, and the reliquary was\n    taken out by the chaplain. \"It is hard, and at its\n    ordinary level,\" he said, and showed it to us. The\n    blood now stood in the _ampulla_, not, as yesterday,\n    filling it, but reaching only to about an inch below\n    the neck, leaving about one-fourth of the space within\n    unoccupied. It was certainly solid and hard; for he\n    turned the reliquary to one side and the other without\n    its moving at all. He even held the reliquary upside\n    down, and the blood remained a firm and unmoved mass,\n    attached to the bottom of the now up-turned _ampulla_.\n    It was carried to the altar. We stationed ourselves\n    just as yesterday. The sanctuary was filled with\n    visitors, but not so crowded as on the former occasion.\n    The chapel, too, was not so densely jammed. None were\n    forced to stand out in the church for want of room.\n    The \"relatives\" were at their post, and prayed just as\n    before; but the miracle having occurred on the feast\n    itself, they were satisfied that it would occur, as a\n    matter of course, each day of the exposition throughout\n    the octave. At least, so I read their countenances,\n    which were less nervously anxious than yesterday.\n\n    The chaplain commenced the _Miserere_, the _Deus tuorum\n    militum_, and sundry prayers, the clergy joining\n    in. Every five minutes or so, he turned to show the\n    reliquary to the people, especially, of course, to\n    those immediately around the altar.\n\n    In just sixteen minutes after we had reached the\n    altar, the first symptom of the coming change showed\n    itself. As the chaplain held the reliquary for a moment\n    completely reversed, and steady in that position,\n    I noticed that the surface of the blood within the\n    _ampulla_, now, as he held it, underneath, showed a\n    tendency to sag downwards, as if it were softening.\n    Soon again, I saw that around the edge, where it\n    touched the glass, it had changed color, and was of\n    a brighter red than in the middle, and seemed very\n    soft, almost liquid. In fact, as he would incline the\n    reliquary to one side or another, the entire mass\n    within began soon gradually to slide down and occupy\n    the lowest position. Still, though soft, it was thick,\n    and could scarcely be called liquid. Then, in two or\n    three minutes more, it became still softer, until it\n    was quite liquid, with a lump, nevertheless, which\n    seemed to remain hard and to float in the liquid\n    portion. To-day, as the glass was moved, the liquid\n    would run off, of course. But, whereas yesterday it\n    left the glass quite clear and clean, as water would\n    do, now, on the contrary, it left a reddish thick tinge\n    behind, which only slowly sank down into the general\n    mass. After a while, too, the blood seemed to froth, or\n    show bubbles on its surface--_to boil_, as the Italians\n    say. I remained over half an hour more to see it, and\n    I noticed that at the end of that time the lump had\n    disappeared, and all was quite liquid. The frothing\n    continued.\n\n    After this, I was invited to go into the sacristy,\n    where they showed me the superb ecclesiastical\n    vestments belonging to the chapel--the mitres,\n    necklaces, chalices, ciboriums, ostensories, and other\n    rich jewelry--in great part, the gifts of emperors,\n    kings, and other nobles and wealthy ones, who, for\n    centuries past, have given them as offerings to this\n    sanctuary on occasion of their visits. Finally, I had\n    to tear myself away. Returning for a few moments to the\n    chapel, I found the crowds still approaching the altar\n    to examine and to venerate the relics.\n\n    Reluctantly I left the cathedral, and in a few hours\n    a railway-train was bearing me fast and far away from\n    Naples.\n\n    I have thus, my dear S----, set forth minutely and at\n    length what I saw. They say that in the liquid blood\n    one may still sometimes see a small fragment of straw\n    floating about. If so, it must have been taken up with\n    the blood when it was gathered at the execution of\n    the saint, and must have glided unperceived into the\n    _ampulla_ when the blood was poured into it that day.\n    A young friend with me thought he caught a glimpse of\n    it. His eyesight is keen, which, you know, mine is\n    not. Anyhow, I did not see it. I need not tell you of\n    various other little points of which the Neapolitans\n    speak, as I had no opportunity of testing them or\n    verifying them myself. I have told you, simply and\n    straightforwardly, what fell under my own experience.\n\nOur readers will not regret the length of this account of the\nliquefaction, so full and minute in the details. The letter from\nwhich we extract it was written immediately after the visit of\nthe writer to Naples, from notes made at the time, and while the\nimpressions left on his memory were still fresh.\n\nIt was not necessary, in a letter like that we have made use of,\nto enter on the discussion of mooted points of arch\u00e6ology. The\nwriter simply sets forth the opinions which, after more or less of\nexamination, he felt inclined to adopt. We say here that there is\na difference among writers as to the year in which the body of St.\nJanuarius was transferred from the original sepulchre to the church\nof San Gennaro _extra muros_, and there is still a graver difference\nas to the precise place of the original tomb. Some have held that\nthe execution took place on a more elevated spot on the same hill\nwhich the letter mentions--about a quarter of a mile distant from\nthe church of the Capuchins--and that this church marks not the\nsite of the execution, as the letter holds with the Neapolitan\narch\u00e6ologists, but the site of the first temporary interment, from\nwhich the body was borne to Naples, twelve or fifteen years later\nthan the year assigned above. These are minor points, on which we may\nlet antiquaries argue at pleasure.\n\nIn another article, we purpose to examine the character of the fact\nof the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januarius, according to exact\nrecords of its history for several centuries back.\n\nFor the present, we close with the latest account of its occurrence\nwhich has fallen under our eye. The _Pall Mall Budget_, of May 26\nlast, has the following: \"The blood of St. Januarius seems to have\nbeen lately in a more perturbed state, if possible, than ever. The\n_Libert\u00e0 Cattolica_ of Naples gives an account of some unusual\nappearances presented by this relic, on the 6th inst., one of the\nannual occasions on which the holy martyr is honored in the cathedral\nof Naples. On the day in question, Saturday, May 6, at a quarter-past\nfour P.M., the reliquary being brought out of its tabernacle, where\nit had remained since the 16th of last December--the feast of the\npatronage--it was found partly liquid, as when laid up. It continued\nin the same state during the procession (from the cathedral to\nthe church of St. Clara), and, after thirteen minutes of prayers,\nthe sign of the miracle was given, the portion which had remained\nhard being perceptibly still more dissolved, so as to show that\nthe miracle had taken place. Gradually, during the kissing of the\nreliquary by the congregation at St. Clara, it became entirely\ndissolved. On its return to the cathedral, contrary to what had\ntaken place during the last few years, it was found to be completely\nhardened. When carried into the chapel of the _Tesoro_, it dissolved\nanew, and now entirely, yet remaining thick and glutinous; and in\nthat state was laid up, about ten P.M.\"\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nLUCAS GARCIA.\n\nFROM THE SPANISH OF FERNAN CABALLERO.\n\n    \"In an age when all impressions are effaced by the\n    double hammer of civilization and incredulity, it is\n    touching and beautiful to see a people preserve a\n    stable character and immutable beliefs.\"\n\n\nI.\n\nEastward from Jerez, in the direction of the Sierra de Ronda, which\nrises in a succession of terraces, as if to form a suitable pedestal\nfor the rightly named San Crist\u00f3bal, lie the extensive Llanos de\nCaulina. A bare and uniform road drags itself for two leagues through\nthe palmettoes, and makes a halt at the foot of the first elevation,\nwhere a lazy rivulet widens in the sun, and, stagnating in summer,\nchanges its waters into mire.\n\nOn the right is seen the castle of Malgarejo, one of the few Moorish\nedifices that time and his faithful auxiliary in the work of\ndestruction, ignorance, have left standing. Time makes ruins, groups\nthem, crowns them with garlands, and adorns them with verdure, as if\nhe desired to have them for places of recreation and rest; but the\nbarbarian ignorance gives no quarter--his only delight is in dust;\nhis place of repose, the desert waste; his end, nothingness.\n\nThe angles of the castle are flanked by four large towers. These,\nas well as the walls of the whole enclosure, are surmounted by\nwell-formed turrets, perfect still, and without notch or break in\ntheir beautiful uniformity. The castle took its name of Malgarejo\nfrom a knight of Jerez, by whom its reduction was accomplished in a\nmanner so curious, that we cannot resist the inclination to relate\nit, for the benefit of those who are unacquainted with the tales of\npartisan exploits that abound in the annals of Jerez.\n\nIn the beginning of the thirteenth century, a hundred and fifty\nMoors, with their families, occupied the castle. They went clothed\nin white, according to the custom of their nation, and mounted gray\nhorses. Shut up as they were, they procured their subsistence by\nforaging the country at night, and carrying to their stronghold\nwhatever booty they could seize.\n\nMalgarejo resolved to get possession of this formidable place. It\nwas surrounded, at that time, by a wide moat. This moat--opened by\nthe Moors for their protection, and afterward serving them for a\nsepulchre--no longer exists.\n\nThe Christian cavalier had a slave that was a most accomplished\nhorseman, and to him he promised liberty if he would swear to devote\nhimself to the proposed undertaking. The slave, agreeing, was\nentrusted by his master with a mare of singular agility, and was\ndirected to train her to leap a ditch, which was to be enlarged, by\ndegrees, to the width of the one that surrounded the Saracen castle.\n\nThis being accomplished, Malgarejo called together his followers,\ndisguised them as Moors, caused them to cover their horses with white\ncloths, and, one night, when the garrison had sallied out upon a\nraid, approached the fortress. Those within, taking his host for the\none they were expecting, viewed its approach without suspicion. When\nthe Christians came nearer, they saw their mistake, and would have\nraised the bridge, but the slave of Malgarejo had already leaped the\nmoat, and cut the cords, so that it could not be lifted; and the\n_Jerezanos_ made themselves masters of the castle.\n\nThe sight of this stronghold, over which the destroyer Time has\npassed leaving as little trace as would the footstep of a bird,\ntransports the beholder to the past with such vividness of illusion,\nthat he is surprised not to see the pennon of the half-moon\nfluttering above its towers, and misses a snowy turban from behind\nevery one of its turrets. No fitter place could be found for the\nrepresentation of a fight or of a tournament between Moors and\nChristians.\n\nThe road to Arcos leaves on its left the sleeping stream and the dead\nfortress, within whose precinct, like ants in a skeleton, laborers\nplying the tools of peaceful husbandry are moving.\n\nAscending this first step of the mountain, the traveller crosses\nother plains, covered as far as the eye can see with rich harvests,\nand, finding no nearer inn or stopping-place, takes his siesta at\nthe grange of La Pe\u00f1uela, formerly the property of the Carthusian\nfathers--an order so pious, so severe, so worthy and respected, that\nthe country folk still ask each other, \"And was there indeed a power\nthat could, and a hand that would dare to touch such men and such\nthings?\"\n\nAs the country rises, it covers itself with olive groves, as if it\nwould shelter white and ancient Arcos in the pride with which she\npreserves her title of city, her venerable privileges, and her state\nparchments, in spite of decline, or, better said, in spite of her\nstill life, in the midst of the progress that waits upon the march of\ntime--a progress at once gentle, deliberate, and spontaneous.\n\nTrue to the guerilla traits of her Moorish founders, Arcos appears\nto the traveller, wearied with the ascent, alternately advancing\nand retiring, until, passing between two high rocks, he enters\nunexpectedly into a city so beautiful for situation as to astonish\nand delight even those who are rarely moved by the charms of nature\nor the enchantments of the picturesque.\n\nOne afternoon, in the year 1840 or thereabout, a crowd of people\nmight have been seen entering a poor-looking house in the barrier of\nSan Francisco. From this house they had carried, on the previous day,\nthe body of one who had been its mistress, and the neighbors were\nnow uniting for the _condolement_ required by the rigorous etiquette\nwhich is observed by the people, and which manifests the instinctive\ncourtesy and dignity that distinguish them. For all etiquette\nand all ceremonial are founded upon these bases, and are not the\nridiculous and superficial things, either in public or private\nlife, that the revolutionary spirit of the age, and the anxiety to\nescape from every rein, material and moral, would make us believe.\nCeremonial and etiquette, in the right acceptation of the words, are\nexternal conduct, disposed so as to give worship to things divine,\nconsideration and respect to things human.\n\nOn entering the house, the women assembled in the parlor of the\nmourner's _habitation_.[160] Opposite this room was another, which\nhad been lent by a neighbor for the accommodation of the men.\n\nUpon a mat in the middle of the apartment first mentioned was\nextended a handkerchief, into which each person, as he entered,\nthrew one or two copper coins, destined for the stipend of the Mass\nof San Bernardino. This custom is observed not only among the poor,\nbut also among those who are well-to-do, for this Mass must be owed\nto charity. Let sceptics and rationalists explain this as best suits\nthem. We look upon it as an act of humility, joined to the desire of\nuniting many suffrages. And although we may be more impressed with\nterrestrial honors, such as a splendid funeral, a showy catafalque,\nand a proud mausoleum, the fervent petition of the heart, the coin\ngiven in charity, the prayers of the church, are better suffrages for\nheaven. In a corner of the room, upon a low chair, was the principal\nmourner, a little girl of eight years. Wearied with weeping for her\nmother, and with remaining so long in one position, she had leaned\nher head against the back of the chair, and fallen asleep--for sleep\nis a lover of children, and hastens to their relief whenever they\nsuffer in body or spirit.\n\n\"Poor Lucia,\" said one of the mourners, a kinswoman of the deceased,\nglancing at the child, \"how she will miss her mother!\"\n\n\"This was the thorn that poor Ana carried to the grave fastened in\nher heart,\" observed a neighbor.\n\n\"But,\" asked another, \"of what did she die?\"\n\n\"Only the ground that covers her knows what ailed her,\" answered the\nrelative, \"for Ana did not complain. If she had not been so thin, you\nmight have drunk her; as yellow as a waxen flower, and so weak that a\nshadow could have knocked her down, no one would have thought that\nshe was on her way to Holyfield.\"\n\n\"She died of a broken heart!\" exclaimed an energetic-looking young\nmatron; \"all the world knows it; and because we have an alcalde that\nis afraid to strap his breeches to the work and cast out of town with\nthe devil's sling these trulls of strangers who come among us to set\nup drinking-houses, and chouse married men, to their perdition and\nthe ruins of their families!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, the alcaldes have eyes of fishes for all these things,\"\nsaid the relative of the deceased, \"just as they have owls' eyes\nfor some others. But they'll get their pay, woman; for though God\nconsents, 'tis not for ever!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the first--\"consents to the death of the good, and\nlets the bad live, and crow on. God reserves the justice of heaven\nfor himself. The rod of earthly justice he puts into the hands of\nmen; and a fine account they'll have to give of the way they use it!\nI'd like to break the one our alcalde carries upon his shoulders!\"\n\n\"Neighbor,\" said an old woman, \"you are more hasty than a spark from\nthe forge; you attack like the bulls, with eyes shut. Think whom you\nare speaking of; and bear in mind that 'evil wounds heal, but evil\nfame kills.' Poor Ana was never well after her last confinement.\nDeath does not come without a pretext: the summer pulled her down,\nand September finished her; for 'from friar to friar,[161] God be our\nguard!'\"\n\n\"Of course, Aunt Maria,\" retorted the young woman, \"it's quite proper\nfor you, because you are aunt to Juan Garcia, and cousin to the\nalcalde, to say so; for 'with reason or without it, aid us God and\nour kin.' But I tell you that my Jos\u00e9 is not to set his foot inside\nof _La Leona's_[162] gin-shop; and I'll see that he don't! A man may\nbe as honest as Job, but in 'the house of the soap-maker he that\ndoesn't fall slips.' And say what you please, you who are a widow,\nwith the coolness of age in your veins, I shall not go back of what\nI have said. 'He that jumps straight, falls on his feet,' and I say,\nand resay it: they ought to flay alive the good-for-nothing calamary\nof a she-sergeant, with her sentry-box figure, and face darker than\nan oil-skin, so full of pock-marks that it looks as if she had fallen\ninto a bed of chick-peas, and more hair on her lip than a grenadier!\nRemember the proverb, 'Salute the bearded woman at a distance!'\"\n\n\"And her children,\" said the mourner--\"little imps that she keeps so\ngreasy and neglected! They look like a nest of calamaries.\"\n\n\"But she thinks them little suns,\" added another.\n\n\"Ya!\" exclaimed the first who had spoken; \"said the black beetle to\nher young ones, 'Come hither, my flowers!' and the owl calls hers\n'drops of gold.' Who ever saw such a thing, sirs,\" she continued,\ngrowing excited--\"who ever saw anything so wicked as to dupe a\nmarried man, the father of children, ruin him, pull down his house,\nand murder his wife by inches! And this is known and permitted! I\ntell you, such a thing sinks deep!\"\n\n\"Yes, it is worse than stabbing with a knife,\" exclaimed one woman.\n\n\"It cries to God!\" added another.\n\n\"It is a scandal of the monstrous kind,\" proceeded the first.\n\"Poor Ana, though I did not see much of her, I loved her well.\nAlmond-paste is not milder than she was, and as meek and free from\nmalice as a sheep in the hands of the butcher. O men! men! There is a\ncurse on them that pull their clothes on over their feet; and that is\nthe reason our dear Lord would not wear breeches, but always dressed\nin a tunic.\"\n\n\"Come, daughter,\" said Aunt Maria, \"nothing is mended by malediction,\nnor by spitting out the quinine. Let us pray for the soul of the\ndeparted, for that is what will really benefit her.\"\n\nThese words were the signal for complete silence. Aunt Maria took her\nrosary, the rest following her example, and, after saying the act\nof contrition and a solemn credo, proceeded to recite the rosary of\nsouls, repeating three times after the Paternoster, and instead of\nthe Hail Mary,\n\n      \"O Lord, by thy infinite mercy,\"\n\nthe others answering in chorus,\n\n      \"Grant to the souls of the faithful departed peace and glory.\"\n\nNothing was now heard in the mourning room of the women but the grave\nmurmur of the prayers and suppressed sighs of pity and sorrow.\n\nThe other parlor presented a very different spectacle. The widower,\nserene as a glass of water, and cool as a fresh lettuce, now that\nthe day of the burial had passed, considered himself dispensed from\nthe attitude of mourning, and smoked, listening and talking to all,\njust as usual, as if death had entered his house and departed without\nleaving either trace or impression of his awful presence.\n\nThe indifferent ones followed his example, so that, had not all worn\ncloaks, no one would have supposed that this was a condolement,\na tribute of love and respect to a life that had ended, and of\nsympathy with an overwhelming sorrow. The only figure that appeared\nto be in harmony with the object of the reunion was that of a boy\nthirteen years old, the son of the deceased, who sat near his father\nwith his elbows resting on his knees, and his face buried in his\nhands, weeping inconsolably.\n\n\"What kind of day has it been?\" asked the widower.\n\n\"Unhealthy,\" answered one.\n\n\"And the sky?\"\n\n\"Patched; I think the rain is not far off. There was fog this\nmorning, and 'fog is the rain's sponsor and the sun's neighbor.'\"\n\n\"The wind will soon sweep the cobwebs from the sky,\" said a third,\n\"for it blows from sunset side. The rain is shyer than sixpences.\"\n\n\"No matter,\" answered the first, \"last year it did not rain till All\nSaints; and a better year, or another of the same piece, hasn't been\nseen since the creation. Laborers, farmers, and tenants all got tired\nof gathering, and had more than enough--the barley, in particular,\ngrew so thick that you couldn't set a spade between the blades.\"\n\n\"The month of January is the key of the year. If the sky does not\nopen in January, there will be no harvest.\"\n\n\"Hola! Uncle Bartolo!\" all exclaimed, as a small, vigorous old man\nentered the apartment. \"Where do you hail from? where have you been\never since we missed you from here?\"\n\nUncle Bartolo, after offering to the mourner the usual condolences,\nseated himself, and, turning toward his interrogators, replied:\n\n\"Where do I come from? The district of Do\u00f1ana, without varying from\nthe most direct line. Since the French war ended, and I took the\nroad, I have been water-carrier[163] to the _You Sirs_.[164] They\nhave them there in Do\u00f1ana of all complexions--legitimate, grafted,\ncross-breed, and supposititious, even English. _Caballeros!_ Deliver\nus; but those Swiss of the French are the ones! Stout fellows;\nvery white; very ruddy; very fair-haired, and very puffy. But as\nto spirit, they have no more than they drink; and grace, they have\nnot any. They carry their arms like the sleeves of a capote, and\nset their feet down like pestles. Whenever I saw those feet that\nresembled _jabeques_,[165] I used to say to myself,\n\n      'A good foot and good ear\n      Signs of a good beast are.'\n\nFor talking, they make use of a kind of jargon that, in my opinion,\nthey themselves don't understand. These parleys that I don't\ncomprehend displease me, for I never know whether I am being bought\nor sold.\n\n\"There was one--the size of a tunny-fish--they called Don 'Turo.[166]\nHe fell to me. To see him blowing and sweating over those sands made\none pity him, for a league finishes them; the sun offends them; the\nheat makes them weak, and dissolves them entirely. That platter face\nwould persist in doing everything contrariwise, as they do it in his\ncountry. Once he took it into his head to use my clasp-knife to eat\nwith, and cut himself. With that he got out a medicine-chest as big\nas a surgeon's. 'Go along!' said I to myself, 'a spider bit me, and\nI bound the wound up in a sheet.' He was as hard-headed as a corner.\nAnother time he made up his mind that he ought to shoot a partridge,\nand, though I told him it was against the law to shoot partridges at\nthat season, he fired, and would have fired if his father had stood\nbefore the mouth of his gun. He fired and killed an urraca.[167]\n'Sir,' said I, 'what has your honor done?' Says he to me, 'Killed\nthe partridge.' 'Why, sir, it isn't a partridge, it's an urraca.'\n'It's all right,' said the big bungler, quite composedly. 'But it\nis not right,' answered I; 'the killing of urracas is prohibited.'\n'And who prohibits it?' he asked, putting on his face of a lion. 'I\nhave my license, that cost me three thousand reals.' 'But, sir, that\nis for large game--you understand? The urracas mustn't be killed.\nYou comprehend?' Says he to me, 'In this country of _Sant\u00edsima\nMar\u00eda_'--for, as I have told you already, he said everything\nreversed, as they do in his--'in this country there's no end of\nprivileges, and do the very urracas have them?'\n\n\"That question was so foolish, or else meant to be ironical, that\nI didn't care to set him right; so I told him, 'Yes, privileges\nthat were granted to them in very ancient times, by _Do\u00f1a Urraca_\nherself.' He took out a blank-book and wrote that down. 'Let the ball\nroll,' said I in my jacket, 'it isn't my business to stop it.'\"\n\n\"But, Uncle Bartolo, why may they not kill urracas in the district?\"\nasked a young man.\n\n\"Because they are the ones that planted the pine woods,\" answered\nUncle Bartolo.\n\n\"Oh! none of that! you are not talking to platter-face,\" replied the\nyouth.\n\n\"So I perceive, since his swallow for novelties was too big; and\nyou--for a blockhead of those who believe only what they see--haven't\nany. Nevertheless, sir, that the urracas do plant the pines is a\ntruth as evident as a house. They open the ripe cones, and pick out\nthe seeds for food. Being very saving birds, they bury those that\nthey can't eat; and, being very brainless ones, they forget all\nabout it and never go back to look for them; and the seeds sprout.\nIf it were not true, why would the dukes prohibit the killing of\nurracas, when they are thicker in the district than sparrows on a\nthreshing-floor? Therefore, Alonso, no one may say, 'This camel can't\nenter the eye of my needle'; for, of two silly birds, the one that\nalways keeps his bill shut is more silly than the one that has his\nalways open. But you were a dunce from the beginning; and, as you\ngrow older, you are gaining upon Blas, that ate horse-beans.\"\n\n\"And at night, uncle, what did those people do with themselves there\nin the province?\" asked the listeners.\n\n\"The Englishmen ate and drank, for their honors are made hollow,\nin order that they may always be putting things into their mouths.\nThat is the reason they are so fat and big. Platter-face told me one\nday--with an air as if God had just revealed it to him--that I was\nable to go so long without getting tired because I was lean; and that\nhe would give a thousand dollars, or some such sum, to be as lean as\nI. I answered--shouting to make him understand better--'Your worship\nhas only to eat _gazpacho_[168] to dry up your flesh, and raw onions\nand garlic to sharpen your senses.\"\n\n\"And the Spaniards--how did they pass the evenings, Uncle Bartolo?\"\n\n\"The Spaniards? Talking through the very stitches of their garments;\nbawling till you would have thought they were echoes: and quarrelling\nabout things of the government. For, nowadays, everybody wants to\nknow everything himself, and to command: the very beetles set up\ntheir tails and complain of a cough. I tell you, sirs, there are no\nmore such Spaniards as there were in the time of the French war. We\nwere as one man then, and all of one mind. Now there are moderates\nand _extremists_. I, who am an _extremist_ only when it concerns my\ngun, my wife, and my children, could wish the devil would fly away\nwith so much gab. It made me want to say to them: 'Gentlemen, where\nthere is less tongue, count on more judgment,' and 'so much grass\nchokes the wheat.'\"\n\n\"One night, one of the _You Sirs_ called me, and wanted to know if\nI was in the war against Napoleon. 'Yes, sir,' I answered, 'I was a\nguerilla.' 'Well, then,' said he, 'you just come here, for I am going\nto read you the will he made.'\"\n\n\"What! did that man make a will, Uncle Bartolo?\" asked some of the\noldest of the listeners.\n\n\"Yes, and before he died, it is supposed.\n\n\"'But, your worship,' I asked, 'what had that kingdom-thief to give\naway? Did they not then make him throw up everything he had taken?'\n\n\"The _You Sir_ had an open book, and began to read. Gentlemen, that\n_soccarron_,[169] in his will, went on distributing everything, his\ngoods, his arms, his body, and his heart. I was perplexed. 'Well,\nwhat do you think of it, uncle?' said his honor, when he had ended.\n'Sir,' I answered, 'from what I can see, that unbeliever thought of\neverything; but neither in his life nor in his death did he remember\nhis soul.'\"\n\n\"Why did you join the guerillas, Uncle Bartolo?\" asked one of the\ncompany.\n\n\"What a question!\" exclaimed the guerilla, looking at the one who\nhad asked it, and weaving himself backwards and forwards with much\ncomposure.\n\n\"'He that asks does not err,' Uncle Bartolo.\"\n\n\"Yes, but this is a case of 'He that asks does not err, and I ask if\nthey bury the dead with the deceased?'\"\n\n\"What I mean is, when did you leave your house, and how did you\nhappen to fall in with the _partida_?\"[170]\n\n\"Ya! those are other questions, Lopez. Some French horsemen came\nhere--they call them _colaseros_ (cuirassiers)--my wife was more\nafraid of them than of a contagion, and every time she heard the\nclarionets, she would say to me, in a fright, 'They are sounding\nthe charge.' 'No, wife,' I would tell her, 'they are sounding\nthe _premonition_.' One day the cornet--they used to call him\n_Trompi_--came in tipsy, and insulted my wife. I, who was not\nafraid of any three that might come, and never stopped to think of\nconsequences, said to him, 'Out of here, little soul of a pitcher,\nand Barabbas cut a slice from you!' With that he drew his sword,\nand would have cut me, but I snatched my knife, and finished him at\nonce; and then, catching up mantle and blanket, took the wind for the\nmountains. I stopped in Benamahoma with the Padre Lovillo--and there\nyou have it all.\"\n\n\"The Padre Lovillo was the captain of the partida?\" questioned a\nyouth.\n\n\"Yes, the Padre Lovillo. _Candela!_ That was a man you could call\na man! No talker--not he; but the words he used were few and good.\nIf any one wanted to brag of his doings, he would say, 'Let them be\nseen, not heard. You understand, cackler? Stabs with steel, not with\nthe tongue; balls of lead, not of wind.' Sirs, that man was ready for\neverything, as you would have declared with two tongues if you had\nhad them. When we were going to attack the French, he used to say,\n'Listen, sons, our fathers died for their country, and we are not to\nbe less than they.' Then, drawing his sword, he would shout, '_Now_\nlet us see who has pluck!' and charge like another Santiago,[171] and\nwe after him, as if he had led us to Paris in France. We felt neither\nhunger nor weariness; it was a fight without drum or trumpet, but\nit made the Frenchmen shiver. They named us the '_Briganes_[172] of\nthe Black Mountain,' and were more afraid of us than of the trained\nsoldiery.\n\n\"Don 'Turo, who knew that I had been a _brigan_, called me into the\nparlor one evening, and, when he had squeezed himself into a chair,\ntold me to sit down. I began to wonder where all these Masses were\ngoing to end.[173] Surely, I thought, he cannot want me to clean his\ngun! But I waited for the mountain to bring forth, and presently he\nasked me to explain the _trafica_[174] of guerilla fighting. When I\nsaw him come out with that ladder, I got angry, and told him, 'No;'\nthat my pronouncing was very bad, and his understanding worse. But\nall the others insisted, and, not to seem disobliging, I repeated a\nvery good and well-versed poem, that was going the rounds then.\"\n\n\"And what was it about, Uncle Bartolo?\"\n\n\"It relates a conversation between Malapart[175] and that Indian,\n_Munr\u00e1_, Duke of _Ver_.\"[176]\n\n\"Go on, uncle, say it,\" exclaimed all present.\n\nThe following romance, which the old guerilla recited, was very\npopular at that time among the people. It owes its humor to the fact\nthat neither its unlettered composer, nor those who recited it, had\nany suspicion that they were giving a caricature. They considered\nit a simple and probable account of what would take place between\nNapoleon and Murat when they saw their last troops vanquished. Even\nthe conclusion is in no way inconsistent with their ideas of the\nantecedents and characters of the personages:\n\n        _Nap._ How is this, friend _Munr\u00e1_!\n      Why are you here again?\n      Why have you left your capital?\n      What sent you out of Spain?\n      Speak on, and don't delay;\n      We have no time to spare;\n      Tell me, in terms exact,\n      What has happened there.\n\n        _Mur._ Easy, sir, if you please;\n      Sire, do not press me so;\n      Only let me get breath,\n      I'll tell you what I know.\n      But, first, send for a chair,\n      That some rest we may take\n      While I tell you the tale,\n      For, indeed, my legs ache.\n\n        _Nap._ Right, for you have grown fat,\n      And glad am I to see\n      Proof that the airs of Spain\n      So well with you agree.\n\n        _Mur._ Sire, you are mistaken;\n      But let the matter go,\n      For things of more account\n      Your majesty should know.\n      And, come to what must come,\n      Without any more ado--\n      For, believe me or not, sire,\n      All I tell you is true.\n\n        _Nap._ Why, what has happened now?\n      Good Heavens, man, speak out!\n      What have you seen in Spain\n      To put you so about?\n\n        _Mur._ Great Emperor of France,\n      Your force has been in vain;\n      Nor did flatteries avail--\n      You cannot conquer Spain.\n      No notice will they take\n      Of your promises of pay,\n      And peace, and rank to all,\n      And bull-fights every day.\n\n        _Nap._ But, my soldiers, do not they\n      In the mountains still remain?\n\n        _Mur._ Yes, captives they remain\n      With their general, _Dupon_,\n      And the eagles of France;\n      And every sword and gun\n      Might as well be a distaff,\n      For Casta\u00f1os and his men\n      Have settled their account.\n\n        _Nap._ _Peste!_ Because you tell it,\n      The tale I must believe;\n      From another I would not\n      A word of it receive.\n      No doubt, in Zaragoza\n      Our cause has better speed,\n      In humbling them at last\n      We surely must succeed.\n\n        _Mur._ All your force is useless;\n      The knaves will not submit.\n      If you wish to lose France,\n      And make an end of it,\n      Send it to Zaragoza,\n      It will find a bloody tomb,\n      And remain there, buried,\n      Until the Day of Doom.\n\n        _Nap._ Can nothing, then, be done\n      With those troops of Arragon?\n\n        _Mur._ We have none that on them\n      Will venture to advance.\n\n        _Nap._ But Moncey's triumphant\n      In the kingdom of Valence?\n\n        _Mur._ Sire, he has dropped his ears,\n      And slunk away, ashamed;\n      Those Valencians have a way\n      Their enemies to tame.\n      They mount on swiftest steeds,\n      And, running a swift career,\n      Unhorse the astonished foe\n      Before he is aware.\n\n        _Nap._ It seems, then, that maxims,\n      And lying, and caution\n      Have failed in that country;\n      But who had a notion\n      That Spain would be equal\n      To France in a contest?\n      We now can do nothing\n      But send for Funest.[177]\n\n        _Mur._ And how can he get here,\n      When the Portuguese men,\n      With the Spaniards united,\n      Have him closely shut in,\n      With sentinels stationed?\n      No help can avail him,\n      For surrender he must,\n      When eatables fail him.\n      The best thing to do, is\n      To yield to their clamor,\n      And give back the king\n      That Spaniards all honor.\n      Perhaps, sire, if--with him\n      Appeased and delighted--\n      They will let our troops go,\n      Your throne may be righted;\n      For upset it they will\n      At the rate they are making,\n      And cut off your head,\n      And from me be taking\n      My fine dukedom of _Ver_;\n      Or, if we escape, sire,\n      The fate I am dreading.\n      We'll have to sweep chimneys\n      Again for a living.\n      I've forgotten the trade,\n      And lost my dexterity;\n      But you, who were master,\n      Would mount with celerity.\n\n        _Nap._ Only a pitiful knave\n      Such memories would renew.\n\n        _Mur._ Well, sire, if that don't suit,\n      I've another thing in view;\n      We'll seek a brighter sphere,\n      And a foreign city find,\n      Where through the streets we'll rove,\n      Crying \"Sci-i-issors to gri-ind.\"\n\n\"And which did he do, uncle?\" asked one--\"sweep chimneys or grind\nscissors?\"\n\n\"_He sweep chimneys!_\" exclaimed Uncle Bartolo. \"Such people always\nfall into feather-beds! They carried him to St. Helena--beyond\nGibraltar--where he had it quite comfortable till he died raving,\nafter the devil had helped him to make that will.\"\n\n\"Here comes Uncle Cohete,\" said a man who sat by the window.\n\n\"Make him a sign to come in,\" said the person nearest him, in a low\ntone.\n\nUncle Cohete was a simple, good old man, who acted the merry-andrew\nfor the purpose of obtaining alms for a religious house of which\nhe was _demandante_.[178] He could mimic to perfection the songs\nof all birds; the near and distant barking of the dog, the mewing\nof the cat; and so excelled in imitating the peculiar hiss and\ncrackling of a kite in the air, as to have obtained the nickname of\n_cohete_ (kite), by which he was known. He had, besides, a stock of\nsimple verses, ballads, riddles, and odd scraps of humor, which he\nwould repeat with inimitable expression and drollery. The sources\nfrom which he drew his supplies could not be told. This, he had\nlearned in a town on the Llanura; that, in a village of the Sierra;\nanother at the fireside of the manse. But, in his mimicry of the\nbirds, they themselves had been the teachers, aided by unusual\nflexibility of organs, and great patience and perseverance on the\npart of the disciple. For, in all branches--whether important or\ninsignificant--perseverance yields great results.\n\nIt having been intimated to Uncle Cohete that the company wished him\nto tell something diverting, he began by saying _The Commandments of\nthe Rich Man and the Poor Man_--a collection of ironical precepts,\nwhich enjoyed great popularity at that time--as follows:\n\n    \"The commandments of the rich man, nowadays, are five,\n    namely:\n\n    \"The first. Thou shalt have no end of money.\n\n    \"The second. Thou shalt despise all the rest of the\n    world.\n\n    \"The third. Thou shalt eat good beef and good mutton.\n\n    \"The fourth. Thou shalt eat flesh on Good Friday.\n\n    \"The fifth. Thou shalt drink both white wine and red.\n\n      \"These commandments are included in two:\n      Let all be for me, and nothing for you.\n\n    \"The commandments of the poor man are five, namely:\n\n    \"The first. Thou shalt never have any money.\n\n    \"The second. Thou shalt be despised by all the world.\n\n    \"The third. Thou shalt eat neither beef nor mutton.\n\n    \"The fourth. Thou shalt fast, even if it be not Good\n    Friday.\n\n    \"The fifth. Thou shalt taste neither the white wine nor\n    the red.\n\n      \"These commandments are included in two:\n      Scratch thyself, and bear everything for the love of God.\"\n\n\"Uncle, did not the son of _Roba-Santos_[179] who is heaping money,\ngive you an alms?\" asked one.\n\n\"No, he gave me nothing,\" answered Uncle Cohete.\n\n\"Like father, like son,\" said Uncle Bartolo.\n\n\"Next year, uncle, you will get a pile, for 'when the fields have,\nthe saints have.'\"\n\n\"Uncle Cohete, take these two coppers, and tell us _The Commandments\nof the New Law_,\" said the man who had called him in:\n\n    \"The commandments of the new law are ten, namely:\n\n    \"The first. Let there be no money in Spain.\n\n    \"The second. Let the world turn upside-down.\n\n    \"The third. Let every one play gentleman.\n\n    \"The fourth. Let not a single copper come from America.\n\n    \"The fifth. Let there be no end of drafting.\n\n    \"The sixth. Let the new law come from abroad.\n\n    \"The seventh. Let there be fewer people that are not\n    wanted.\n\n    \"The eighth. Let them distribute biscuits in Navarra.\n\n    \"The ninth. Let every one look out for himself.\n\n    \"The tenth. Let all be at variance.\n\n      \"These commandments are included in two:\n      Some say yes, and others say no.\"\n\n\"Tell us a riddle, uncle.\"\n\n\"Fifty ladies and five gallants: the fifty ask fowl; the five ask\nbread,\" said the old man, of whom nature, and the kind of life he\nled, had made the personification of ready and good-humored obedience.\n\n\"The Rosary! I knew that,\" said a little boy. \"Tell another.\"\n\n      \"The mantle of Lady Leonor\n      Sinks in the river, but covers the shore.\"\n\n\"We give it up, uncle.\"\n\n\"It is the snow, gentlemen.\"\n\nAt this moment they were interrupted by the ringing of the sunset\nbell, and, all rising, stood with uncovered heads.\n\n\"Will you recite the prayer, Uncle Bartolo,\" said the widower.\n\nUncle Bartolo repeated the Angelus, adding a Paternoster for the\ndeceased. And now the grief of the sobbing child in the corner broke\nforth in bitter crying.\n\n\"Stop that, Lucas!\" said his father. \"You have been going on in\nthat way, hic! hic! like an old woman, for two days. You ought to\nhave gone into the women's room. Let me hear you crying again! You\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"Let me tell _you_, Juan Garcia,\" said Uncle Bartolo, \"that you are\nthe first man I ever heard rebuke the tears of a son for his mother!\nYou see me, with my years, my beard, and my guerilla life; well, I\nremember mine, and weep for her still!\n\n\"But, uncle, 'frown, and frown again, of a bad son makes a good one.'\nLucas here is a regular _Marcia Fernandez_,[180] brought up in the\nfolds of his mother's skirts. I must teach him that men resist, and\ndo not allow themselves to be overcome by tribulations.\"\n\nUncle Bartolo shook his head. \"Time and not ointment will cure the\npatient. If you had died, his mother would not have been the one to\nrebuke your son for the tears he shed over you.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nJuan Garcia continued his former life, abandoning himself with more\nliberty to the wicked woman of whom the friends of his dead wife had\nspoken at the _condolement_. She was called _La Leona_ in allusion\nto her native island of Leon, where she had married a sergeant, who\nwas afterward sent to serve in America. Like all bad women, _La\nLeona_ was much worse than men of the same class, inasmuch as, in the\nsubtle organization of woman, the delicacy that is given to her for\ngood turns into a refinement of evil, and her instinctive penetration\ninto malignant sagacity. Not satisfied with having attracted to\nherself Juan Garcia, who possessed a small patrimony, _La Leona_,\nimpelled by the bitter envy which a lost woman feels toward one who\nis honest, undertook to render him indifferent to his wife, and\nsucceeded not only in this, but also in causing him to ill-treat\nand abandon her. Juan Garcia was a weak man, easily subjugated by\nthose who knew how to obtain an influence over him, and, by way\nof compensating himself for this complaisance, very obstinate and\noverbearing in his treatment of others. By degrees, it came to pass\nthat his mistress would not receive him with favor unless he brought\nher, as an offering, the relation of some act of coldness or cruelty\nto the victim whose only crime was that of affording, by her right,\nand by her silent and prudent endurance, the most patent condemnation\nof the conduct of these two, a condemnation all the more ignominious\nbecause of the great purity of manners which prevails in country\nplaces. And in order to gain our assertion credit with those who are\ndisposed to accuse us of partiality for the country people, we hasten\nto say that this purity may naturally be attributed to the wholesome\ninfluence of labor, which, in putting indolence to flight, puts to\nflight with it the vices it generates, and to the blessed poverty,\nwhich, being without the means of satisfying them, hinders their\nbirth. Having convinced utilitarians with these reasons, we will add\nto them others of our own; namely, the salutary ideas of morality\nand rooted principles of honor that many centuries of Catholicism\nhave fixed in the hearts of these people--principles renewed, in each\nsuccessive generation, by the unchanging zeal that is the property of\nreligion, and that never wearies or grows lukewarm.\n\nLike all other general rules, the above has its exceptions. Juan\nGarcia furnished one. His unkindness, united with the grief and shame\nhis conduct caused her, had certainly hastened the death of poor\nAna, whose last act of affection as a wife, and duty as a Christian,\nhad been to forgive him. Alas! the soul of the husband was so deeply\nmired that even this saintly death could awaken in it neither pity\nnor remorse. Not that he was utterly perverse, but his eyes, like\nthose of many another in this world of error, were covered by one of\nthose veils which must fall on the day of God's judgment, when the\nlight of truth will be the first punishment that awaits the willingly\nblind.\n\nHis boy and girl remained orphaned and neglected, and would have\nbeen entirely forsaken but for that active charity which makes women\nconstitute themselves fervent protectors of the helpless and severe\njudges of the wrong-doer. The wives of Juan's neighbors took care of\nthe children, and obliged him to feed and clothe them, freely casting\nin his face his evil conduct, while, with imperturbable coolness,\nthey prescribed to him his obligations.\n\nAh charity!--some proclaim and others comprehend thee; some would\nguide thee, and thou guidest others! Why art thou not found in the\npalaces that philanthropy builds for thee? Why dost thou appear in\nall thy brightness in the dwellings of the poor, delighting thyself\nwith the widow's farthing? It is because thou wilt be queen and not a\nslave!\n\nThe children could not be consoled for the death of their mother.\nIsolated as they were, all the sentiments of their hearts became\nconverted into love for each other, and sorrow for their loss.\n\nLucas, however, who was five years older than his sister, did his\nbest to enliven and distract her.\n\n\"Don't cry so, Lucia,\" he said to her one night, not long after the\n_condolement_. \"Mother will not come back for crying, and you make me\ncry. What shall I do to amuse you?\"\n\nThe child made no answer.\n\n\"Shall I sing you a romance?\"\n\nLucia inclined her head in token of assent, and the boy sang in his\nclear, sweet voice the following ballad:\n\n        Holy Saviour of La Luz,\n      Teach a child's tongue how to tell\n      A thing that happened in Seville,\n      Right, and worthily, and well.\n      Of a mother who lived there,\n      And two daughters that she had;\n      One was humble, mild, and good,\n      The other one was proud and bad.\n        They marry with two brothers,\n      Who are brothers but in name--\n      Under the same roof nurtured,\n      But in nothing else the same.\n      The younger sells his portion,\n      And loses the whole in play;\n      The elder follows the plough,\n      And works in his field all day.\n        Then the younger dies, and leaves\n      His wife, all alone and poor;\n      Her children weep for bread,\n      And she seeks her sister's door,\n      Praying, \"In God's name, sister,\n      And for his sweet Mother's sake,\n      Give my little children bread,\n      And his word in payment take.\"\n      \"Go, Mary,\" cries the sister,\n      \"Beggar, take yourself away!\n      Was my lot better than yours\n      Upon our wedding-day?\"\n        Weeping and broken-hearted,\n      The poor mother turns again;\n      To know her cause of sorrow\n      The neighbors ask in vain.\n        Of the parlor of her house\n      She had made a room for prayer\n      To our Lady of the Beads:\n      And now she enters there,\n      And, with her little children,\n      Before the altar falls\n      Of our sweet princess Mary,\n      And on her name she calls.\n        Now, homeward in the evening\n      The good brother turns his feet;\n      Finds table spread and waiting,\n      And he sits him down to eat.\n      He takes a loaf and breaks it,\n      But throws it away again,\n      For blood runs out of the bread,\n      On his hand he sees the stain.\n      Then he takes and breaks another,\n      But still the red blood falls--\n      \"Oh! what is this?\" astonished,\n      To his trembling wife he calls.\n      \"Tell me, I say! what is it?\"\n      For to tell she is afraid:\n      \"In vain to me, this morning.\n      For bread my sister prayed!\"\n      \"And she that, without pity,\n      To a sister refuses bread,\n      To God's Mother doth refuse it,\"\n      Then the angry husband said.\n        Six loaves the young man gathered,\n      And in haste to the abode\n      Of his sister and her children\n      He straightway took the road.\n        The window-shutters were closed,\n      And locked were windows and doors;\n      But the gleam of many lights\n      Shone out through the apertures--\n      Shone on six angels of God,\n      All kneeling upon the floor\n      Round six bodies of mother and children\n      That would never hunger more.\n        \"Farewell, my soul's dear sister,\n      And sweet nephews of my heart!\n      Though gold I have, and plenty,\n      I would gladly give my part\n      For yours in the blessed country\n      Where sorrow is all forgot,\n      And the labor of life exchanged\n      For the eternal better lot!\"\n\n\"And did she let her sister starve to death?\" asked the child, her\neyes refilling from her already surcharged heart.\n\n\"Yes, yes; she was a good-for-nothing; but don't cry, Lucia, a story\nisn't a thing that ever happened.\"\n\n\"If it had never happened, they would not have put it in the\nromance,\" said the little girl.\n\n\"They made it up,\" replied Lucas. \"Don't you believe it, dear. When\nI am a man and can earn, the least piece of bread I may have, I must\ndivide with my heart's little sister. You know that before mother\ndied she put you in my care, and I made her a promise never to\nforsake you.\"\n\n\"And will you keep it?\"\n\n\"So may God give me his glory!\"\n\n\"And if you ever forget it, I am to sing you this romance, to put you\nin mind of what you say now.\"\n\n\"That is so; you must learn it.\" And the boy set himself to teach his\nsister the romance.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[160] A house sometimes contains two or three suites of apartments\nfor distinct families. Each one forms a habitation.\n\n[161] 28th of August, St. Augustine; 4th of October, St. Francis.\n\n[162] _La Leona_, the lioness.\n\n[163] _Azacan_, water-carrier, said of a servant or very laborious\nperson.\n\n[164] _Los Usias_, the You Sirs. That is to say, grand folks that\nmust be treated to the _Usted_ (you), instead of the _tu_ (thou) of\ncommon people.\n\n[165] _Jabeque_, a clumsy three-masted vessel used in the\nMediterranean.\n\n[166] Arturo.\n\n[167] Magpie.\n\n[168] A common dish on the tables of the country people.\n\n[169] Offscouring.\n\n[170] Partisans, or party.\n\n[171] The patron of Spain.\n\n[172] Brigands.\n\n[173] To have misgivings as to the result of anything.\n\n[174] _Tactica_, tactics.\n\n[175] _Mala_, bad; _parte_, part; name given by the Spanish soldiers\nto Bonaparte.\n\n[176] Murat, Duke of Berg.\n\n[177] _Funesto._ Nickname given by the Spanish soldiers to Junot.\n\n[178] One who asks alms for charitable purposes.\n\n[179] Rob the saints.\n\n[180] A girl-boy.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOOD GERARD OF COLOGNE.\n\nBY RUDOLF OF EMS, VASSAL AT MONTFORT (THIRTEENTH CENTURY).\n\nCOMPILED AFTER THE GERMAN OF CARL SIMROCK.\n\n\nI.\n\nIn the new cathedral at Magdeburg the bells were ringing for the\nfirst time. A large crowd gathered to witness the consecration of the\nchurch, founded and richly endowed by the Emperor Otto the Great. He\nwent up the aisle before all the people, not, as was then the custom,\nto lay down gifts at the new altar of God, but, with erect brow, he\nstood, and thus he spoke: \"There is no gift in my hand for thee, O\nLord; but when I lift up my eyes, whatever I behold around me is my\ngift to thee! This church I built for the glory of thy name, and I\nendowed it and made it so great that the sons of kings think it an\nhonor to bow to its prince-bishop, and serve him. The heathen that\ntroubled thy people, see I conquered them with my strong arm--the\nWends, the Sarbs, and the Hungarians, they bowed their heads to my\nsword, and their knees to thy glory; and I made thy name great in\nall the pagan lands, and erected churches and bishoprics to thy\nhonor. And now show me to-day, O my Lord, that thou hast seen my\nfoot going in thy path, thou, who wilt give glory from heaven to him\nwho spreads thy glory on earth.\" Thus the emperor spoke before all\nthe people. And lo! a voice sounded from heaven as the voice of an\nangel in anger, and it spoke with a voice like thunder rolling in\nthe mountains: \"Otto, king on earth, see, the King in heaven had put\na chair by his side for thee to sit upon it, and thou hast despised\nit in thy vanity; he had prepared for thee a crown of glory, and\nthou hast taken the crown of pride that made angels fall. He has\nheard with little pleasure the thoughts of thy heart, that asks for\nthe highest place. Know, that place is for him who most serves God\nin humility and purity of heart; that is, for the good Gerard, the\nmerchant in Cologne, whose name is written in the book of life. And\nnow go and learn from him what is agreeable to God, and then confess\nthat thy glory is vain and thy doing but little. But know, that not\nreadily will he speak to thee; well would he lay down his life rather\nthan let the fame of his righteousness sound up to God by words\nfrom his own mouth.\" When Otto had heard this, he bowed his head in\nshame and was humbled. He mounted his good horse, and with three\nof his knights rode over to Cologne. Among the citizens who came to\ngreet their emperor in the vast hall, Otto saw one, a tall man with\na long white beard and the step of a youth; and when he asked the\nbishop who sat by his side who that man was, he received in answer:\n\"That is the good Gerard, the richest merchant in Cologne.\" Then the\nemperor spoke to all the assembled people: \"I came here to ask your\nadvice, as I am in great need of it. But I was counselled, and even\ncommanded, not to speak but to one of you, and for that one I choose\nthee, O Gerard! Thou seemest to me rich in wisdom and experience.\"\nAnd Gerard answered, bowing before the emperor: \"Shall I go alone to\ngive my advice, while there are so many worthier ones here?\" But all\nthe people said: \"O king! thy choice is good; there is no one in this\nhall his equal in wisdom.\" So the emperor took Gerard by the hand,\nand led him to a chamber near by, and locked the door after him, and\nthey sat down on one couch, Gerard by Otto's side. Then Otto said:\n\"Gerard, it was to see thee that I came here; pray tell me, how did\nit happen that the name 'Good' was given to thee? I would fain like\nto know.\" \"O great king!\" answered Gerard, \"I do not know myself\nwhat that means; there are so many Gerards here; people only gave me\nthat name to distinguish me from them.\" \"Gerard, thou art deceiving\nme!\" the emperor called out; but Gerard answered: \"Oh! no, great\nking, I should deceive thee if I spoke otherwise. Never did I merit\nthat name, and it was often a burden to me; because, while the world\ncalled me 'the Good,' it reminded me how seldom I did what pleased\nGod. Often do I send the poor man away with a mean gift, whilst God\ngives me riches; I give him sour beer and black bread, I give him\nan old gown, whilst many a new one I had, and would not have missed\nthem. I always have liked to go to church where the service was\nshortest, and when I had once prayed with my whole soul, I thought\nthat would do for half a year. Therefore, O king! do not ask me what\nI have done to deserve that high name.\" The emperor said: \"Gerard,\nthou must give me a better answer, for I have sure knowledge that\nthou hast done a great deed for God's sake, and I came to hear the\naccount of it from thy own mouth; therefore speak!\" \"Oh! spare me,\"\ncalled out the good man, \"spare me, most gracious king!\" But Otto\nreplied: \"No, no! thou only awakenest my impatience, and I tell thee\nthou must yield to me at the end, if even much against thy will!\"\nThen prayed the good man in his heart: \"O God! look at thy servant!\nMy king is angry with me, and I cannot resist him any longer. So if\nI reckon with thee, O Lord! and praise myself for the little good I\never did, do not thou turn away thy grace from me, for what I say, I\ndo it much against my will.\" And presently he threw himself at the\nemperor's feet, saying: \"Ten thousand pounds of silver I have in my\ncellar, take it and spare me the answer!\" \"Gerard,\" said the rich\nemperor, \"I thought thou wert wiser. Such a speech only excites my\ncuriosity. And I will tell thee, thou canst reveal me everything,\nand it will be no sin to thee--so I swear before God.\" Then the good\nGerard said, arising from his knees, and sitting down: \"God knows my\nheart; he knows that, when I do now as my king commands me to do, my\nheart is full of grief, and vanity is far from it.\"\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE GOOD GERARD'S STORY.\n\n\"When my father died, he left no small fortune to me, his only heir.\nBut as I was a merchant, I thought to double and double again my\npossessions, and cause my son to be called 'the rich Gerard,' as his\nfathers had been called before him. So I left him such fortune as\nwould be full enough for him, and took all the rest, fifty thousand\npounds of silver, and carried it to my ship, together with food for\nthree years' voyage. Experienced sailors were in my pay, and my\nclerk was with me, to write my accounts and read my prayers. So I\nwent to Russia, where I found sables in profusion, and to Prussia's\nrich amber strand, and from there, by the Sea of the Middle, to the\nEast, and there I took in exchange silk and woven goods from Damax\nand Ninive; and well I thought a threefold gain should be mine. Then\nmy heart began to long for wife and child, and with great joy I told\nthe mariners to turn the ship homeward. But a storm arose, and water\nand wind were fighting for twelve days and twelve nights, and threw\nmy ship to an unknown land, where a beach gave us shelter. When the\nsun shone again, and the sky looked clear, I saw villages and hamlets\nand fertile fields as far as my eyes could reach, and near the sea\na large city with pinnacles and high walls. We went to the port,\nand I found it full of merchandise, a rich and stately place, not\nunlike the old Cologne. I went on land, for I saw the governor of\nthe city coming to view the goods in the port, and many a knight and\nvassal rode by his side; and I thought to go up to him and ask his\nprotection. But when I came near him, he approached me with a quick\nstep, and, greeting me with his hand, he thus spake: 'Welcome the\nfirst one who comes to my market! Thou art my guest, stranger! I see\nthou comest from far off, perhaps from the land of the Christians,\nwho seldom come here, in false fear that I would harm them. But be of\ngood cheer! I do not harm the merchant, nor need I covet his goods,\nfor my land is rich, and all the gold and precious stones that it has\nin its mountains are mine, and the pearls in the sea, and many a rich\nvessel that the storm throws on our coast.' Well was I astonished at\nsuch a greeting; but I accepted gladly; and the governor, Stranamur\nby name, gave me the best house, and took care of me that nothing\nmight harm me. Again and again did he show me his love, and soon\nfriendship and confidence reigned between us. Presently, he wanted me\nto show him the treasures of my ship, and I let it be done readily.\nI saw him wonder at their splendor, and with good cheer he said:\n'Gerard, I tell thee, thou hast brought riches to this land so great\nthat nobody can buy them. But I will show thee my treasure now, and\nthen, if it so please thee, we will exchange; for in this land my\ntreasure is of no value, while in the land of the Christians it might\nbring thee at least a twentyfold gain.' And I answered: 'To seek\ngain is the merchant's duty. I did show thee my treasure; now let\nme see thine.' Then my host led me by the hand to a hall, and as I\nentered with a cheerful mind, hoping to behold the riches of India,\ngold and spices, I found the place all empty of joy and filled with\nbut misery. Twelve young knights were lying here in chains so heavy\nthat their weight pulled them down to the low couches, and, though\ngrief and want had disfigured their beauty, I saw they were of noble\nblood and sons of high lords, born to govern the world. Then my host\nbeckoned me to the next hall, where I found again twelve knights in\nchains, but old and pale, with venerable figure, and hair and beard\nsilver-white. Then my host led me away by the hand to the third\nhall, and said: 'Behold my most precious goods!' Well, I found there\ngoods great in riches and beauty, for fifteen lovely maidens were\nwhat he called the precious merchandise. And my heart pained me as\nI beheld them, for their loveliness and gentle mind shone amid the\nprison walls like stars in the night; and I saw one like their queen,\na moon among the stars. But Stranamur led me away and said: 'Thou\ndidst behold my goods; shall we exchange? Thou mayest easily get a\nrich ransom for each of them, more than one hundred thousand pounds\nof silver. In England they were born; William, their king, sent\nthem over to Norway to bring him home his bride, King Reinemund's\ndaughter, Irene, whom thou hast seen. Coming home, a storm threw them\non my coast, and so they were mine by right, for after the custom\nof this land the strand is mine. And I offer these knights to thee,\ntogether with the fifteen maidens, that thou mayest give me the\ntreasures I saw on thy ship.' I had good reason to be astonished at\nsuch an offer, for I saw clearly it would be giving my goods for mere\nblanks, and so I asked the governor to let me please consider till\nthe next morning. And when I came to my house I sat down thinking,\nand though my heart told me to help the prisoners in their misery,\nthere was a voice in my mind saying: 'Do not give away the earnings\nof thy life for a mere idea'; and well would I have passed that night\nwithout coming to an end, if God in his goodness and grace had not\ngiven his advice in my heart. For I fell asleep, and in my sleep I\nheard a voice of God's angel, who spoke to me these words: 'Awake,\nGerard, God's anger is calling thee! Did he not say in his mercy,\n\"What thou givest to the poorest of my brethren, thou givest unto\nme\"? What thou givest to the needy ones, thou lendest to the Lord;\nand doubt in him is great sin to thee!' Then I awoke and fell on my\nknees, and thanked God that he had given me shame and repentance in\nmy heart, and humbled me so as to save me from sin. The next morning\nmy host met me at the gate, and with anxiety he asked what it was\nmy wish to do. And I answered: 'I am willing to make exchange with\nthee, O Stranamur! if thou allowest me one thing: give back to the\nprisoners their ship and all they brought on it, and give them food\nand mariners, and whatever they need to go home.' And the governor\nanswered: 'Dost thou think me a thief, O Gerard? I thought, friend,\nthou knewest me better. Not one penny's worth will I keep from the\nprisoners, and theirs shall be whatever is needed for a safe and\nspeedy voyage.' After that he gave me his hand, and we changed thus\nmine and thine. Then the prisoners were told of what had happened,\nand they were clothed as became them, and refreshed, and when they\nbeheld me, their thanks and tears were such that my eyes overflowed,\neven against my will. And I saw the women's great beauty, and Irene\ntheir queen, and though the earthly crown was taken from her, there\nwas the crown of beauty and loveliness on her brow. Then my clerk\nread prayers, and we went to sea; the right wind blew in our sails,\nand bore us quickly outward. When we came near the coast of England,\nI spoke to the knights: 'Tell me, who of you were born in England,\nthat they may go on their way home now.' And they answered: 'From\nNorway only came Queen Irene with two of her maidens; all the rest of\nus were born in England.' I said to the knights: 'Go home, then, with\nmy blessings, noble lords! and if I did what pleased you, think of me\nwith a friendly heart. Let King William know, and also Reinemund of\nNorway, that Queen Irene is in my house and under my protection, and\nthat I am ready and willing to give her up whenever they claim her.\nWhen I send my messengers to you, pay them back, O knights! what I\nleft for your sake in the strange land of the heathen, if it so is\nconvenient to you. Then they thanked me so that I had to hide from\ntheir embraces; and we parted with many tears; and they went their\nway, I mine.\n\n\"Soon I was home again. My wife and son welcomed me gladly and with\nthanksgivings, and after I had told them all, they led Irene to my\nhouse. And Queen Irene lived in my house like one of us for many a\nmonth, and my wife loved her, and all the women of my household and\nfriendship, and she taught them many a fine art, such as to embroider\nwith gold and thread of silver and pearl. And God gave his blessing\nto my trade, and I prospered. But every day, Irene's loveliness grew\nmore lovely, and when I saw her so gentle and smiling, I forgot my\nlosses, and my joy was greater than seventy-fold gain would have\nmade it. So passed a year, and no message came from Reinemund, nor\nfrom William, the King of England, and I beheld with sorrow that my\nqueen's mind was grieved, though she hid her tears from our eyes.\nThat I took to my heart, and said to myself, 'I bought our sweet\nqueen free from great pain, and now I must see her in greater grief.\nThere is no one here kindred to her, and, when I am gone, who is\nthere to be her friend and protector? King William is dead, and so is\nReinemund, the King of Norway, and Irene, their queen, will die of\ngrief for them! Therefore I spoke to her one day, and I asked her to\nlisten graciously, and then I said thus: 'Thou must know, O queen!\nthat there is nothing that gives me so much trouble than the thought\nwhat one day shall become of thee when I am no more. It is clear now,\nsorry as I am for it, that thy friends are dead, therefore, I think\nit our duty to counsel wisely what is best for thy future, O queen!\nAs he is considered a wise man who tries to forget what fortune took\nfrom him, so I advise thee, O my daughter! to choose for a husband\none from among my family, that is, my son, as whose wife honor and\nample fortune will not be wanting to thee.' At that, Irene answered\nand spoke to me: 'O dear father! I know me no better adviser than\nthee in this world; so I will do whatever pleases thee. Only let\nme wait one year longer; if till then no tidings have come from\nany friends and kindred, thy wish shall be mine!' But the year was\nsoon past, and no tidings had reached us, neither from England nor\nfrom Norway; and so Irene the queen was to be the merchant's wife.\nI ordered the wedding to be prepared with the greatest splendor,\nand my mind's only thought was to boast with my riches; and I asked\nto the feast many a rich merchant, and nobles and dukes, and our\nprince the bishop. So when Pentecost came, that was to be the day of\nthe wedding, the bishop stood up before the altar, and eleven noble\nsquires knelt down before him, and the twelfth one, who was Gerard\nmy son, and the bishop blessed their swords, and they arose as noble\nlords and knights. My eye rested on him, and I saw he was happy; he\nbroke his lance in honor of his bride; he watched for the bell that\nshould call him again to the altar of God, there to receive Irene\nas his wife: what could there be to make his happiness greater and\nto hinder him from drinking the cup of bliss? But lo, I beheld one\nstanding far aside, a stranger with a pale face and his eyes full of\ntears; he gazed at Irene, my daughter, and he shuddered, and his arm\nwas around a column that he might not fall. He was a young man of\ngreat beauty, and his skin was fine and white, but his beard gray,\nand his dress that of a beggar. As I saw him so full of woe and\ntears, I went up to him, and I asked him the cause of his grief, that\nperhaps I might give help and make joy and happiness come back to his\nmind. But he would not speak. At last, as I pressed him very much, he\nsaid to me these words: 'Such as thou doest see me here with my hair\ngray before the time, I am William, King of England. I went to sea\nto meet my bride coming from Norway, where I had sent twelve maidens\nand twenty-four knights to escort her over to me. But a storm arose\nand threw my ship against the rocks while I was already in sight of\nthem, the tempest carried me to the shore and I was thus saved, but\nnot a word I ever heard of the knights, or the maidens, or of Irene\nmy bride, the King of Norway's daughter. For years and years I have\nwandered about in search of her, with my heart full of despair and my\nhair and beard gray, till at last I found her to-day, the bride of\nanother man. What shall I tell thee more? My soul and body are hers\nwhom I love, and for her sake I will now give them up into death!'\nWhen I heard these words from my guest, him who destroyed all my\njoys, I said unto him: 'The Lord has done great things; honor and\nfortune he might still give thee back; wait here awhile, and be of\ngood cheer!' And I sent my valet to him, to attend to all his needs\nand wants, but I went to my prince the bishop and told him the wonder\nGod had shown to us, and asked him to help me with my son Gerard and\nteach him a Christian's duty. So I called my son away from the side\nof his bride, and after he had heard the tale, so full of marvel, the\nbishop asked him: 'Wilt thou then separate, Gerard, what before God\nis united?' Then he answered us, and he said: 'What do you think of\nme? Shall I give up my love and happiness and rest and peace?' But\nthe bishop spoke: 'Yes, my son, thou shalt!' And my child began to\ncry at these words, and I cried with him, and he put his arms around\nmy neck and said, 'My father, then let it be so!' and my heart felt\njoy at these words. Shall I tell thee what my heart felt when I saw\nKing William greet his bride? I am old as thou art, O emperor! but\nI know not without jealousy thou wouldst have beheld it. And in my\nheart I thanked the God of goodness who had given so wise counsel in\nmy mind that my blessings now were greater than what gold or silver\ncould ever have bought for me. After that I filled my ship and took\nthem over to England, and great was the joy of the four-and-twenty\nknights on beholding their king and queen, and of the whole people,\nand great were their thanks to me, and only with great pain could\nI hinder them from bestowing all their riches on me, and making me\na prince and a great man among them. But I will not repeat to thee\nall they meant to do to me, and the praises they gave me; for God\nknows, in all my life I cannot deserve them. And when I came home,\nthe people made much of me, and called me 'the good'; though thou\nknowest now, as well as I do, that I am not good. It was only by the\nangel's voice that my doubts were taken, from me; I was full of fear\nto lose my goods, and weak. Besides, I am a sinner and am proud and\nvain, so that I have been praising myself before thee, O emperor!\nwhile, couldst thou see my heart, many a fault thou wouldst observe\nwithin.\"\n\n\nIII.\n\nBefore Gerard had finished speaking, the emperor's heart grew large\nwithin him and made his eyes overflow; for tears are a blessing\nwhich God sends from heaven. He felt shame and repentance, and these\ntwo re-created his heart, and his mind was healed from all false\nglory. And he said: \"Gerard, I tell thee, better a good deal than\nsilence is what thou hast made known to me; for my heart was sick\nwith vainglory, and pride overgrew the good deed. I had built a great\nhouse to the Lord, and the thought of that poisoned my heart, so\nthat it asked for reward. But what I asked has turned against me as\na punishment, for no heart is pure that seeks for glory only. When\nI then praised myself at my good deed, God sent me to thee to learn\ntrue humility and charity. Truly thou art good; for thy heart was\nnot moved by the praise of this world. Thou hast given thy goods for\npoor prisoners, thou hast taken the wife from thy son, and refused\nthe riches of England in humility and charity, only for the sake of\nthe Lord thy God. Well, my ride to thee has brought me benefit. But\nthou, O Gerard! pray the Lord to have mercy upon him that prides in\nvainglory; pray for thy emperor to our God in heaven.\"\n\n\n\n\nEGYPTIAN CIVILIZATION ACCORDING TO THE MOST RECENT DISCOVERIES.\n\nFROM THE CORRESPONDANT.\n\n\n    PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON THE ANTIQUITY OF EGYPTIAN\n    CIVILIZATION.\n\nThe most striking fact respecting the Egyptian monarchy is its\nantiquity. \"Forty centuries look down upon you from these pyramids,\"\nwere the sublime words of Bonaparte; but they do not express enough.\nThe progress of arch\u00e6ological science shows that the reign of the\nPharaohs began more than three thousand years before Christ. M.\nBunsen gives the date as 4245 B.C., and M. Mariette 5004, but with\nsome qualifications that should be mentioned. \"Egyptian chronology,\"\nsays he, \"presents difficulties which no one, as yet, has\nsurmounted.... To all dates before the time of Psammetichus I. (665\nB.C.), it is impossible to give anything but approximations, which\nbecome more and more uncertain as we recede.... This uncertainty\nincreases in proportion as we go back from the present age; so\nthat, according to the methods of computation, there may be two\nthousand years' difference in assigning the date of the Egyptian\nmonarchy.\"[181]\n\nWhile fully admitting the reasonable qualifications of the learned\ndirector of the Egyptian antiquities, it is no less certain, from\nthe discoveries already made, that the reign of the Pharaohs extends\nback about thirty centuries before the Christian era.\n\nAnother characteristic of this ancient nation, which is no less\nremarkable, is that it manifests all the signs of civilization\nfrom the beginning. \"It is a phenomenon worthy of the most serious\nattention,\" says Champollion-Figeac, \"that Egypt possessed in those\nremote ages all the civil, religious, and military institutions\nindispensable to the prosperity of a great nation, and all the\nenjoyments resulting from the perfection of the arts, the advantages\nassured by the authority of the civil and religious laws, the\nculture of the sciences, and a profound sentiment of the dignity and\ndestination of man.\"[182]\n\n\"Egyptian civilization manifests itself to us fully developed from\nthe earliest ages, and succeeding ones, however numerous, taught it\nlittle more,\"[183] says M. Mariette.\n\n\"What is most extraordinary about this mysterious civilization is\nthat it had no infancy.... Egypt, in this respect as in so many\nothers, is an exception to the laws to which the Indo-European and\nSemitic races have accustomed us. It does not begin with myths,\nheroic exploits, and barbarism.\"[184] The author we have just quoted\nsought in vain, with all his mind and learning, for the cause of\nthis strange phenomenon. \"Egypt,\" says he, \"is another China, mature\nand almost decrepit from its birth, and in its monuments and history\nthere is something at once childlike and old.\"\n\nThis ingenious explanation excites a smile, but not conviction.\nRather than admit revelation--that is to say, the intervention\nof the divine agency in the creation of man and the formation of\nprimitive nations--many learned men of our day prefer to take refuge\nin the most singular and inadmissible theories. According to them,\nhuman society must \"commence with myths and barbarism,\" and man\nhimself with the savage nature of the brutes. But they are forced to\nacknowledge that Egypt is a decided exception to this theory.\n\n\"The gigantic labors of the Suez Canal in removing the immense\naccumulations of sand, so often amassed as if to preserve the\npast history of the world, have not revealed a single vestige of\nuncivilized men who, before the deluge, were scattered over the rest\nof the earth.\"[185]\n\nTo resolve the problem of ancient Egyptian civilization, we propose\nan explanation more conformable to the traditions and the dignity\nof the human race. It is true, this explanation is not new, for\nit was evident to the sages of pagan times a long time before it\nwas fully unfolded by Christian philosophers. Socrates taught that\n\"the ancients, better than we and nearer the gods, had transmitted\nby tradition the sublime knowledge they had received from them.\"\nPlato adds that \"the earliest of mankind, issuing from the hands of\nthe gods, must have known them as well as we know our own fathers,\nand that it is truly impossible not to believe the testimony of the\nchildren of the gods.\"\n\nWhat the wise men of Greece perceived through the thick veil of\npaganism, we behold clearly by the light of Christianity and the\nHoly Scriptures. It seems to us a simple thing to believe that the\nEgyptian nation, the first founded, not many centuries after the\ndeluge, must have been organized according to the principles of the\nnational law of which the descendants of Noah had not yet lost the\ntradition. \"If we believe in the truth of the Scriptural accounts,\"\nsays an illustrious promoter of social reforms in England,[186]\n\"we must also believe that when the families descended from Ham\nand Japheth began their long migrations, they bore with them the\nreligious traditions they possessed in common with the children of\nShem.\n\n\"As to those who will not accept the testimony of the book which,\nto give it the most unpretending of its august titles, is the most\nancient and most venerable document of human history, we could\nreply that the reasoning still remains the same. The progress of\nethnological and philological researches furnishes us with evident\nproofs of a continued migration of the Touranian and Aryan races\ntowards the north and west from places necessarily undefined, but\ncertainly from the vicinity of the nomad patriarchs. On the other\nhand, nothing shows that their traditions have a different source\nfrom that given in the Book of Genesis--the three divisions of Noah's\nfamily. If, then, everything seems to demonstrate the intimate\nconnection of these primitive races with the Semitic tribes, how\ncould the descendants of Ham and Japheth have left behind the\nirreligious traditions when, for the first time, they left their\nbrethren?\"\n\nThe descendants of Ham, ancestors of the first Egyptians, doubtless\npreserved, with their religious traditions, the moral principles\nthat guarantee the existence and perpetuity of domestic life, and\nthe notions of the arts indispensable to its comfort. \"With the\nhuman race,\" says Bossuet, \"Noah preserved the arts; not only those\nnecessary to life which man knew from the beginning, but those\nsubsequently invented. The first arts which man learned, apparently\nfrom his Creator, were agriculture, the duties of pastoral life, the\nfabrication of clothing, and perhaps the construction of habitations.\nTherefore we do not see the rudiments of these arts in the East,\nin those regions whence the human race was dispersed. This is why\neverything springs from those lands, always inhabited, where the\nfundamental arts remained. The knowledge of God and memories of\ncreation are there preserved.\"[187]\n\nThe ruins of the Tower of Babel still show to what a degree of\nadvancement the art of building had arrived, and the details given us\nin the Bible about the construction of the ark display an amount of\nnautical knowledge which must have been transmitted to the skilful\nboatmen of the Nile and the bold navigators of ancient Ph\u0153nicia.\n\nWe will not extend these preliminary observations, which we think\nthrow sufficient light on the origin of Egyptian civilization, the\nincontestable antiquity of which is as enigmatical as that of the\nSphynx to the astonished eyes of the modern \u0152dipus. A truly learned\nman, who shows himself by his _conf\u00e9rences_ in the Rue Bonaparte\nthoroughly conversant with the discoveries of contemporaneous\nEgyptology, and who is not ashamed to seek light from revelation\nas well as from science, has resolved the problem in the following\nterms: \"There is not, in the first ages of the Egyptian monarchy,\nthe least trace of the rude beginnings of a nation in its infancy.\nIndeed, we should not forget that this country never passed through\nthe savage state, and that, if the truths revealed to the patriarchs\nwere adulterated by the race of Ham, they still retained sufficient\nlight not to remain satisfied with material enjoyments alone.\"[188]\n\nLet us now endeavor to penetrate, by the light of these principles,\nas far as we can into the labyrinth of Egyptian antiquities.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBOOK FIRST.\n\nTHE SOCIAL ORGANIZATION.\n\nI.\n\nDOMESTIC REGULATIONS.\n\nThe institutions which are the safeguards of family life and of\nproperty are essential to society and the perpetuity of a nation,\nand these foundations of the social life seem to have been as firmly\nestablished among the ancient Egyptians as their own pyramids. The\nsacredness of the family tie was the result of unity of marriage and\nrespect to parents, and its perpetuity was assured by the rights of\nprimogeniture, which were universally admitted from the royal family\ndown to that of the most humble laborer. This was the fundamental\nprinciple of family life and of society. Therefore we see Pharaoh in\nthe Holy Scriptures resist all the plagues God sent upon Egypt for\nthe deliverance of the Israelites; but when the first-born of the\nEgyptians were smitten in one night, the king yielded at once, for\nthe whole nation felt that a blow had been given to the very source\nof its existence.\n\nThe Egyptian monuments of every age prove that the paternal authority\nwas universally regarded with great respect. On a great number of\nstel\u00e6 collected by M. Mariette in the museum of Boulak are these\nwords:\n\n\"Oblation in honor of the head of the house.\" (Here follows the name.)\n\n\"The religious laws of Egypt obliged families on certain days in the\nyear to present offerings to deceased parents. One stela, consecrated\nto the memory of Entef, who lived at the beginning of the twelfth\ndynasty, is only a representation of one of these festivals. Entef\nis seated beside his wife. His sons and daughters present themselves\nbefore him. Some are saying the prescribed prayers; others bringing\nfood and perfumes. The last scene depicted is interesting from\nthe variety of representations. Besides parts of animals already\nsacrificed, the servants are bringing live animals.\"[189]\n\nWe may judge of the sentiments of the ancient Egyptians with regard\nto paternal authority by the following passages from an ancient\ndocument, the authenticity of which has never been contested:\n\n\"The son who receives his father's advice will live to be old.\nBeloved by God is obedience. Disobedience is hated by God. The\nobedience of a son to his father is a joy,... he is beloved by his\nfather, and his renown is on the lips of the living who walk the\nearth. The rebellious son sees knowledge in ignorance, and virtue\nin vice; he daily commits all kinds of frauds with impunity, and\nlives thereby as if he were dead. What wise men consider death is\nhis daily life. He keeps on his way laden with maledictions. A son\ndocile in the service of God will be happy in consequence of his\nobedience....\"[190]\n\nWe cannot help recognizing in this precious document the moral ideas\nof primitive times, the tradition of which is so faithfully preserved\nin the Bible. The fourth precept of the Decalogue is found here\nalmost literally: \"Honor thy father and thy mother, that thou mayest\nbe long-lived upon the land.\"\n\nUpon a mortuary stela described by M. Mariette in his _Notice du\nMus\u00e9e de Boulaq_ (No. 44, p. 72), Ma\u00ef, the defunct, is seen receiving\nthe homage of the members of his family. \"One of the sons of Ma\u00ef is\ncalled Men-Nefer. For some unknown reason, his name is erased from\nthe list of the family, and, in fact, his whole image is hammered\ndown. Another son likewise incurred this mark of infamy, which is\nonly given to the proper name of the personage.\"\n\nRespect to parents naturally leads to that for the aged. \"The\nEgyptians have this custom in common with the Laced\u00e6monians,\" says\nHerodotus; \"young men, when they meet their elders, turn aside for\nthem to pass; at their approach they rise from their seats.\"\n\nThe obligations of parents towards their children were strictly\nenjoined in ancient Egypt, as is evident from a curious passage from\nDiodorus, which, at the same time, shows how the manners and laws\nfavored the fecundity of marriage, the only source of a robust and\nnumerous population:\n\n\"Parents are obliged to rear all their offspring in order to increase\nthe population, which is regarded as the chief source of the\nprosperity of a kingdom.... They provide for the support of their\nchildren at little expense, and with incredible frugality. They give\nthem very simple food: the stems of the papyrus which can be roasted,\nroots and stems of palustrine plants, sometimes raw, sometimes boiled\nand roasted, and as all children go unshod in that temperate climate,\nthe parents do not estimate the expense of a child before the age of\npuberty to be more than twenty drachm\u00e6 (a little less than twenty\nfrancs).\n\n\"The children of the common people are taught the trade of their\nparents, which they are to practise for life, as we have remarked.\nThose who are initiated into the arts are alone charged with teaching\nothers to read.\"\n\nSo simple and natural a system of education must have singularly\nfavored the fruitfulness of marriage among the masses, and the\nnumber of children was not less among the aristocracy. We see from\nthe simplest monuments, where the funeral honors rendered to the\nhead of a family by all his children are painted on a wood panel,\nor sculptured on a slab of calcareous stone, that their number,\nincluding both sexes, amounted to eight or a dozen, or even more, and\nthe more elaborate monuments, indicating distinguished families and\nthe upper classes, render the same testimony as to the large number\nof children in each family--as in the sculpture at Thebes, which\ngives a list of nine male children of Rameses Meiamoun, and a greater\nnumber of daughters. In this respect the ancient Egyptian nation\ndiffered from people of modern times.[191]\n\nThe inequality that weighed so heavily upon woman among ancient\nnations is not found in Egypt. \"Women, on the contrary,\" says M.\nMariette, \"held a prominent position in a family. The rights they\ninherited were not absorbed in those of their husbands, and they were\ntransmitted intact to their children. At certain epochs, the family\nmonuments often named the mother to the exclusion of the father.\nIn the inscriptions of the ancient empire, conjugal affection is\nfrequently expressed in a delicate and touching manner.\" And it has\nbeen remarked, and with reason, that the women who played a great\n_r\u00f4le_ in the history of the ancient dynasties enjoyed in private\nlife a liberty of action quite foreign to the manners of most\nOriental nations.[192]\n\n\"It is by the social position of woman,\" says M. de Bonald, \"that we\ncan always determine the nature of the political institutions of a\npeople. In Egypt, where we find the type of the social organization,\nthe law submitted the husband to his wife in honor of Isis, which\nmeans that this dependence was inspired by religion and morals,\nrather than commanded by law. Neither divorce nor polygamy was known\nthere.\"[193]\n\nThe elevated condition of woman in Egypt is attested by the\nmonuments, which show her sharing with her husband in the direction\nof the family.[194]\n\nChampollion-Figeac has given us curious details respecting the\nprivate customs of wealthy families, the garb and toilet of the\nwomen and children, and the peculiar characteristics of the Egyptian\nrace:\n\n\"The head was habitually uncovered; the hair curled or plaited; a\nwoollen mantle was sometimes worn over the tunic, and laid aside\nwhen they entered the temples. The women, besides the tunic, wore\nample vestments of linen or cotton, with large sleeves, plain or\nstriped, white, or of some uniform color. Their hair was artistically\narranged. Their heads were ornamented with bandeaux, and their ears\nand hands with rings. A light slipper was worn on the feet. They\nwent out with uncovered faces, accompanied by some of the numerous\nfemale servants of the house. Dressed also in ample robes of striped\ncloth, these servants had their hair braided and hanging down over\nthe shoulders. They also wore a large apron, like their dress, with\nno jewels or other ornaments, and held themselves in a respectful\nposture in the presence of the lady of the house. Girls issuing from\nchildhood were dressed like their mothers, with the exception of the\nornaments of the head, and children of both sexes wore ear-rings as\ntheir only ornament (or dress) for the first five or six years.\n\n\"They were a fine race, tall in stature, generally somewhat slender,\nand long-lived, as is proved by the sepulchral inscriptions of those\nover eighty years of age. But exceptions to these general statements\nare found among the Egyptians as among other nations. We only make a\ngeneral statement of the principal features of their physical nature,\naccording to the monuments, in accord with historical accounts.\nHerodotus, who saw Egypt before its complete decadence, declares\nthat, next to the Lybians, the Egyptians were the healthiest of\npeople. The great number of mummies of men and women which have been\nopened corroborate this testimony.\"[195]\n\nBossuet, in his _Discours sur l'Histoire universelle_, gives a bold\nsketch of the physiognomy of the Egyptians, and shows the result of\ntheir manly training: \"These wise Egyptians,\" says he, \"studied the\nregimen that produces solid minds, robust bodies, fruitful women, and\nvigorous children. Consequently, the people increased in number and\nstrength. The country was naturally healthy, but philosophy taught\nthem that nature wishes to be aided. There is an art of forming\nthe body as well as the mind.[196] This art, which we have lost\nthrough our indifference, was well known to the ancients, and Egypt\nacquired it. For this laudable end, the inhabitants had recourse to\nexercise and frugality.... Races on foot, horseback, and in chariots\nwere practised with admirable skill in Egypt. There were not finer\nhorsemen in the world than the Egyptians.\n\n\"When Diodorus tells us they rejected wrestling as giving a dangerous\nand factitious strength, he had reference to the excessive feats of\nthe athletes, which Greece herself, though she crowned the victorious\nwrestler in her games, disapproved of as unsuitable for free persons;\nand Diodorus himself informs us that the Mercury of the Egyptians\ninvented the rules as well as the art of forming the body.\n\n\"We must similarly modify the statement of the same author respecting\nmusic. That which the Egyptians despised, according to him, as\ntending to lessen courage, was doubtless soft, effeminate music,\nwhich only excites to pleasure and false tenderness. For the\nEgyptians, so far from despising music of an elevated character,\nwhose noble accords exalt the mind and heart, ascribed its invention,\naccording to Diodorus himself, to their Mercury, as well as the\ngravest of musical instruments.[197]\n\n\"Among the varied exercises which formed a part of the military\neducation, and are sculptured on the numerous monuments, are found\ncomplete gymnastic rules. Nothing could be more varied than the\nattitudes and positions of the wrestlers, attacking, defending\nthemselves, receding and advancing by turns, bending down or turning\nover, rising up again, and triumphing over the opponents by dint of\nstrength, art, and skill. In these exercises the wrestlers only wore\na large girdle, that supported and favored their efforts.\"\n\nA fortunate discovery by M. Mariette enables us to complete the\nportrait of the Egyptian race. A statue found in the Necropolis of\nSakkarah, near Memphis, represents a person standing wearing a plain\nwig,[198] the arms close to the body. He is walking, with the left\nleg advanced. \"This fine monument,\" says M. Mariette, \"is at once\na perfect model of the Fellah of the middle provinces of Egypt and\na specimen of the works of art in the ancient kingdom. The person\nrepresented is tall and slender, with a small hand, the eyes wide\nopen, the nose short and full, the lips somewhat thick, but pleasant\nin expression, and the cheeks plump. The breadth of the shoulders is\nremarkable. The breast is full, but, like the race itself, the hips\nare small, and the lean and muscular limbs seem formed for racing.\"\n\nII.\n\nTHE CLASSIFICATION OF THE PEOPLE.\n\nThe Egyptians, the first to organize a truly civilized society,\nwere divided into distinct classes, in which the occupations of the\ndifferent families were hereditary. The two dominant classes were the\nsacerdotal and military. Inferior to them were the agriculturists,\nshepherds, merchants, artisans, and boatmen, on whom devolved the\ncultivation of the land, the care of the flocks, commerce, the\ntrades, the means of communication and transportation on the Nile,\nand the canals that covered the land.[199]\n\nTo understand the strength and permanence of this organization, we\nmust revert to its origin. The social institutions of ancient nations\nin the beginning depended essentially on the family--the foundation\nof all society. The children were naturally inclined to follow\nthe occupations of their parents. The necessity of providing for\ntheir own livelihood as soon as they were able, and the facility of\nworking under the direction of their fathers, induced them to embrace\nthe occupation to which they had been accustomed from infancy. It\nwas thus that not only agriculture, but all the arts, trades, and\nsciences, became hereditary in the family. Once having a means of\nsubsistence, it was natural to endeavor to preserve it. Identity of\ninterests drew together those who followed the same trades, which\nled to the formation of corporations united by ties of blood and\nsimilarity of pursuits.\n\nThe Egyptians were probably the first nation to systematically apply\nthese principles. \"They were not allowed,\" says Bossuet, \"to be\nuseless to the country. The law assigned every one his employment,\nwhich was transmitted from father to son. They could not have two\nprofessions, or change the one they had; but then every employment\nwas honored. There must be some pursuits and some people of a more\nelevated condition, as eyes are needed in the body, but their\nbrilliancy does not make them despise the feet or the baser parts.\nThus, among the Egyptians, the priests and warriors were particularly\nhonored; but all trades, even the lowest, were esteemed. It was\nconsidered culpable to despise citizens whose labors, whatever they\nmight be, contributed to the public welfare. By this means all the\narts were brought to perfection. The honor which tended to develop\nthem was everywhere manifested, and that was done better to which\nthey had been accustomed and in which they had been experienced from\nchildhood.\n\n\"But there was one pursuit common to all--the study of the civil laws\nand the requirements of religion. Ignorance of religion and of the\nregulations of the land was inexcusable in any rank. Each profession\nhad its own district. No inconvenience resulted from this, as the\ncountry was not extensive, and with so much system the indolent had\nnowhere to hide themselves.\"[200]\n\nWe recognize the genius of Bossuet in the clear outlines he has drawn\nof the plan of organized labor, suited to the state of things, as\nwell as the fundamental principles of all society. The respect for\nfamily life and tradition, the maintenance of social harmony and\nthe grades of society, the protection of honored labor, are all\nremembered in this admirable sketch of the political economy of the\nancient Egyptians.\n\nBut we must not, nevertheless, conclude that professions were\nrigorously hereditary and the castes unchangeable. Amp\u00e8re proves\nthe contrary by means of the sepulchral inscriptions discovered\nin the tombs contemporary with the ancient dynasties. They show,\nin fact, that a great number of marriages were contracted between\npersons of different classes. \"What destroys the hypotheses of\nexclusive professions,\" says that learned academician, \"to which each\nfamily, and consequently each caste, was supposed to be devoted,\nis, finding one member of a family in the sacerdotal state, another\npursuing the military life, and the remainder engaged in some civil\nprofession.\"[201]\n\nIt is true the monuments, a funereal distinction of the upper\nclasses, never mention the laborer or the artisan; but it is\nreasonable to believe that, among a people so regularly organized,\nthe different classes were governed by the same laws and customs.\nIn large families, like those of primitive times generally, liberty\nof vocation easily harmonized with hereditary professions. One\nalone--that of the swineherd--was rigorously hereditary. Those who\npursued this employment were obliged to marry among themselves, on\naccount of the invincible repugnance felt for the unclean animals\nthey had charge of. Herodotus says the Egyptian swineherd alone, of\nall the nation, could not enter into any temple in the country. No\none would marry their daughters or give their children to them in\nmarriage. They could only marry among themselves.\n\nIII.\n\nDIVISION OF LANDED PROPERTY.\n\nThe law concerning the landed property contributed no less than the\nhereditary professions to preserve a distinction of classes and\nthe social gradations. \"All the land,\" says Diodorus, speaking of\nthe institutions of ancient Egypt, \"is divided into three parts.\nThe first and largest belongs to the priesthood, who are greatly\nrespected by the native population on account of their religious\nfunctions as well as for their thorough education. Their revenues are\nexpended for the sacrifices, the maintenance of their subordinates,\nand their own wants. The Egyptians think the religious ceremonies\nshould not be changed, that they should always be performed by the\nsame functionaries, and that these sovereign counsellors should\nbe above want. In fact, the priests are the chief counsellors\nof the king, whom they aid by their labors, their advice, and\ntheir knowledge. By means of astrology and the inspection of the\nsacrificial victims, they foretell the future, and they relate useful\nexamples of deeds taken from the sacred books. It is not here as in\nGreece, where a single man or woman has charge of the sacerdotal\nfunctions. In Egypt, those who are occupied in the sacrifices and\nconduct the worship of the gods are numerous, and they transmit their\nprofession to their descendants. They are exempted from taxes, and\nthey rank next to the king in position and privileges.\n\n\"The second part of the land belongs to the king, the revenues of\nwhich are employed for the expenses of war and the maintenance of the\ncourt. The king rewards merit from his own income, without having\nrecourse to the purse of any private individual.\n\n\"The remaining portion of the land belongs to the soldiers and\nall those who are under command of the military leaders. Strongly\nattached to their country, on account of the wealth they possess,\nthey brave all the dangers of war to defend it. It is, in fact,\nabsurd to entrust the safety of a nation to men who have no interest\nin the common welfare. What is especially remarkable, the soldiers,\nliving thus at their ease, increase the population to such a degree\nthat the government is able to dispense with foreign troops. And\nthe children, encouraged by the example of their fathers, eagerly\nembrace the military life, and are invincible by their bravery and\nexperience.\"[202]\n\nDiodorus, as is known, was a contemporary of Julius C\u00e6sar and\nAugustus.\n\nIn addition to what Diodorus says of the military class, we will add\nthe following extracts from Herodotus: \"Twelve acres of excellent\nland were given, under the first kings, to each head of a family.\"\n(He is speaking of the same class.) And a little further on: \"Each\nsoldier possesses twelve acres of land, exempt from taxation.\"\n\nThis distribution of the landed property is similar to that in France\nin feudal times, and which still exists, to a degree, in England,\nwhere the clergy and aristocracy possess the greater part of the land.\n\nThe two first classes were exempt from taxation, but the priests\nwere at all the expense of public worship, and, although the royal\ntreasury provided for the expenses of war, the soldiers evidently\nhad to provide, not only their own supplies, and equipment, but also\nfor the expenses of military organization; and, like our ancient\nnoblesse, they alone had the glorious privilege of paying a tribute\nof blood.\n\nWe have not a sufficiently clear knowledge of Egyptian civilization\nto state the law of succession with certainty, or how the\npreservation of the patrimony of each family was preserved.\n\nModern publicists, confounding stability with immovableness, have\nthought the power of bequeathing property did not exist under the\nancient laws of the East. This opinion seems incompatible with\nthe nature of the paternal authority, which was carried to a\nsovereign degree in the families of primitive times. Does not the\nBible represent the patriarch Jacob on his death-bed disinheriting\nReuben, the oldest of his twelve sons, and giving his inheritance\nto Judah? And this scene, so well related in Holy Scripture, took\nplace in Egypt itself. It is true, the descendants of Abraham had\npreserved the traditions of the patriarchal life more perfectly\nthan the Egyptians, but the latter, as we have seen, also professed\ngreat respect for the paternal authority, the rights of which must\nhave harmonized with the requirements of the principle of hereditary\nprofessions. A passage from Diodorus seems to decide the question in\nthis sense: \"The legislator regarded property as belonging to those\nwho had acquired it by their labor, by _transmission_, or by gift.\"\nHowever this may be, it is certain that all the land, according\nto Herodotus and Diodorus, belonged originally to the king, the\npriesthood, and the military class. This division of the landed\nproperty must have greatly contributed to the stability which is so\ndistinctive a characteristic of the Egyptian nation. The hereditary\ntransmission of the land in the sacerdotal and military classes\neffectually assured a solid basis for their preponderance, and at the\nsame time guaranteed the independence and dignity of the aristocratic\nclasses. They were thus fully enabled to second the king in the\ngovernment, administration, and defence of the country.\n\nIV.\n\nORGANIZATION OF LABOR.\n\nAncient Egypt, from an agricultural point of view, is in some\nrespects worthy of attention. Certain modern writers have supposed\nthe members of the military class cultivated their own lands, as the\nlegionaries of ancient Rome, but this supposition is irreconcilable\nwith the testimony of the ancient historians who visited Egypt.\nHerodotus says they were \"not allowed to practise any mechanical\nart, but were skilled in the art of war, which they transmit from\nfather to son.\" This point is settled by the following passage\nfrom Diodorus: \"The agriculturists pass their lives in cultivating\nthe lands, which are leased them at a moderate price by the king,\npriests, and warriors.\"\n\nAs to the sacerdotal class, absorbed in the religious observances,\nthe administration, the study of the laws and the sciences, it was\nimpossible for its members to engage in the cultivation of the land,\nwhich, as we have seen, they leased. Notwithstanding great research,\nno information has been obtained about the economic condition of\nthe agricultural class. We only know, from the extract quoted\nfrom Diodorus, that the land was leased at a moderate price. The\nstability which prevailed in Egypt, and the principle of hereditary\nprofessions, induce us to believe that private estates generally\nhad a kind of entail, so the same family of husbandmen lived from\ngeneration to generation on the same land. This principle of\nstability was eminently favorable to the moral and material welfare\nof the family, as well as to the progress of agriculture. Reared\nfrom childhood amid rural occupations, they acquired more experience\nin them than any other nation. They perfectly understood the nature\nof the soil, the art of irrigation, and the time for sowing and\nharvesting, a knowledge they acquired partly from their ancestors and\npartly by their own experience. The same observation may be applied\nto the shepherds, who inherited the care of their flocks, and passed\ntheir whole lives in rearing them; thus perfecting the knowledge\nacquired from their fathers.\n\nThe other industrial classes were no less prosperous. They also\ninherited their occupations. A celebrated publicist states that \"the\nEgyptian artisans held no property.\"[203]\n\nTo prove the truth of such an assertion, it must be shown that they\nwere reduced to a state of slavery: which is formally contradicted\nby Diodorus, as we shall see presently, and it is not confirmed by\nany of the recently discovered monuments. It may be safely affirmed\nthat the artisans of ancient Egypt, with the exception of those\nattached to the temples or public works, had a complete right over\ntheir trades and the fruit of their labors. The possession of land\nwas denied them, but there is reason to believe they could own their\ndwellings and the little gardens that surrounded them.\n\nChampollion-Figeac, who rivalled his brother in the sciences and\nthe profound knowledge of the arts and pursuits of ancient Egypt,\nrepresents the people of that country with their \"plates of glazed\nearthenware, their rush-baskets, and their shoes of papyrus.\" \"The\nlower classes,\" says he in another place, \"generally wore a short\nlinen tunic called a calasiris, confined by a girdle around the hips,\nand sometimes with short sleeves trimmed with fringe at the end.\"\n\nV.\n\nSOCIAL CONDITION OF THE LABORING CLASSES.\n\nNotwithstanding the light which the wonderful discoveries of modern\nscience have thrown on the history of ancient Egypt, we still lack\nprecise information respecting the internal organization of the\ncorporations occupied in manual labor. We only know from Diodorus\nthat they belonged to the class of citizens--that is, they were\n_free_ men. \"There are in the kingdom,\" says he, after having spoken\nof the two dominant classes, \"three classes of _citizens_: shepherds,\nhusbandmen, and artisans.\"\n\nLabor among the ancients was not always a mark of servitude. In\nretracing the origin of the ancient nations, as far as the light of\nhistory diffuses its rays, we find agriculture and the industrial\npursuits carried on everywhere by free labor.\n\nThe monarchical and aristocratical government contributed not a\nlittle to the maintenance of stability in the artisan families,\nby preserving them from the fruitless agitations into which the\nworking-classes are fatally drawn under democratic governments.\nDiodorus shows this admirably in the following passage, to which we\ninvite the attention of the reader:\n\n\"It must be considered that the arts have greatly developed among\nthe Egyptians, and arrived at a high degree of perfection. It is\nthe only country in which a workman is not permitted to fill any\npublic office, or employ himself in any other way than that assigned\nhim by law or by inheritance. By this restriction, the workman is\nnot diverted from his occupations either by the jealousy of his\nmasters[204] or by political affairs. Among other nations, on the\ncontrary, the artisan is almost wholly absorbed in the idea of making\na fortune, some by agriculture, others through commerce, and some\ncarry on several trades at once. And in democratic countries, most\nof them frequent the popular assemblies and increase disorder by\nselling their votes, whereas an Egyptian artisan who should take a\npart in public affairs, or worked at several trades at once, would\nincur a large fine. Such are the social divisions and political\nconstitutions the ancient Egyptians transmitted from father to son.\"\n\nWhat a contrast between the artisan of the old Greek republics,\n\"frequenting public assemblies and extending disorder by selling\ntheir votes,\" and the workman of the Egyptian monarchy, peacefully\npursuing the occupation of his fathers, happy and contented amid\npolitical agitations which must have been very rare under a _r\u00e9gime_\nin which traditional customs were religiously observed! Thus, with\nthe exception of enforced labor on the public works, we are not\nunwilling to admit the fidelity of the picture Champollion-Figeac\nhas drawn of the condition of the laboring classes in ancient Egypt:\n\"The extraordinary fertility of the soil, the beneficent climate,\nthe wise laws perfected by experience and sanctioned by time,\nthe active and benevolent administration, constantly occupied in\npromoting and sustaining public order in the country as well as the\ncity, the inevitable influence of religion upon a people naturally\nreligious and impressionable--the most religious of men, according to\nHerodotus--allow us to believe that the masses in ancient Egypt were\nhappy, and that, occupied and laborious, modest in their manners and\nwishes, they found in labor a source of durable pleasure.\"\n\nBy this wise social organization, which kept each one in his place,\nthe artisan remained faithfully devoted to his pursuits, as the\nhusbandman to his labor. They both fully enjoyed the stability\nso necessary to success. But, as we shall see, the liberty and\nwell-being of the workmen of all classes were affected by the\nfrightful labors imposed on them in the public works.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nBOOK SECOND.\n\nTHE POLITICAL, LEGAL, AND ADMINISTRATIVE INSTITUTIONS.\n\nI.\n\nROYALTY.\n\nThe keystone of the social edifice in the ancient kingdom of Egypt\nmay be regarded as royalty. The crown was hereditary in the male line\nin the order of primogeniture--brother succeeding to brother without\nsurviving children. In case of no son, the daughter succeeded her\nfather, and he whom she espoused was the queen's husband, but not the\nking.\n\nThe king, through the different members of his family, presided in\nall the branches of the government and public administration, thus\ngiving perfect unity and complete monarchical power. \"In fact,\" says\nChampollion, \"the dignities of the different orders were reserved\nfor the king's sons by the laws of the country. The oldest son of\nSesostris bore the titles of Fan-bearer of the king's left hand,\nRoyal Secretary, Basilico-grammatist, and Commander-in-chief of the\nArmy. The second son was also Fan-bearer of the king's left hand,\nRoyal Secretary, and Commander-in-chief of the Royal Guard. The third\nson added to the two first titles that of Commander-in-chief of the\nCavalry. The same qualifications were also given to other princes,\nand seem to have belonged to all the royal generations, as well\nas several sacerdotal and civil titles, such as prophets (a class\nof priests) of different gods, high-priest of Ammon, and supreme\nhead of different civil functions.\" Thus the king concentrated\nin his family the most important offices in the army, the civil\nadministration, and the priesthood.\n\nFinally, the better to consecrate the principle that all power and\ndignity had their source in the throne, the principal leaders in the\narmy and administration received the title of the king's cousin,\nrelative, or friend.[205]\n\nSuch was the real nature of the royal power in the eyes of ancient\nEgypt.\n\n\"The Egyptians were generally considered the most grateful of men\ntoward their benefactors. They considered the best guarantee of\nsociety to be a reciprocal interchange of services and gratitude. It\nis true, men are more inclined to be useful to others when a real\nbenefit is to be derived from the gratitude of the obliged. It was\nfrom these motives the Egyptians respected and adored their kings\nas if they were gods. The sovereign authority, divinely conferred,\naccording to their belief, with will and power to diffuse benefits,\nwas to them a godlike attribute.\"[206]\n\nWhile giving the consecration of a divine character to the royal\nauthority, the wise legislators of old Egypt did not the less take\nthe precautions, suggested by a profound knowledge of human nature,\nof restricting the monarchical power within just limits, of inspiring\nthe king with virtuous inclinations, and of preventing him from\nevil-doing. \"In the first place, the kings of Egypt did not lead\nas free and independent a life as the kings of other nations. They\ncould not act according to their own will. Everything was regulated\nby law, not only their public, but their daily private life. They\nwere served, not by bondsmen or slaves, but by the sons of the chief\npriests, reared with the greatest care, and more than twenty years of\nage. The king, thus served day and night by real models of virtue,\nwould never be countenanced in any blamable action. For a sovereign\nwould not be worse than any other man if he had not around him those\nwho flattered his desires. The precise duties of the king for every\nhour of the day and night were fixed by law, and not left to his own\ninclinations. His first act in the morning was to read the letters\nsent from every direction, that he might be thoroughly informed of\nall that had occurred in the kingdom, and act in consequence. Then,\nafter bathing, putting on magnificent garments, and assuming the\ninsignia of royalty, he offered a sacrifice to the gods. The victims\nwere led to the altar; the high-priest, according to custom, stood\nnear the king, and, in presence of the people, prayed the gods aloud\nto preserve the king in health and all other blessings as long\nas he fulfilled the laws. At the same time, the high-priest was\nobliged to enumerate the virtues of the king, and dwell on his piety\ntowards the gods and his meekness towards man, representing him as\ntemperate, just, magnanimous, opposed to lying, loving to do good,\nthe complete master of his passions, inflicting on the guilty the\nleast punishment merited, and recompensing good actions beyond their\nvalue. After the addition of similar praises, the priest ended by an\nimprecation against all faults committed through ignorance; for the\nking, being irresponsible, imputed all his faults to his ministers\nand counsellors, on whom was invoked the merited chastisement. The\nhigh-priest acted thus in order to inspire the king with a fear of\nthe gods, and habituate him to a pious and exemplary life, not by\na bitter exhortation, but by attractive praises of the practice\nof virtue. Finally, the king inspected the entrails of the victim,\nand declared the favorable auspices. The hierogrammatist read some\nsentences and useful accounts of celebrated men from the sacred\nbooks, that the sovereign might select an example by which to\nregulate his actions. There was a fixed time not only for audiences,\nbut for exercise, the bath, and, in short, for every act of life.\nThe king was accustomed to live on simple food. He was allowed veal\nand goose for meat. He could only drink a certain quantity of wine\nthat would neither produce repletion nor intoxication. In a word, the\nprescribed regimen was so regular that it might be supposed ordained\nnot by legislators, but by the best physicians, aiming only at the\npreservation of health.\n\n\"It seems strange for a king not to be at liberty to choose his daily\nfood, and still more so that he could not pronounce a judgment or\ntake a decision, or punish any one through passion or caprice, or any\nother unjust reason, but be forced to act according to the laws fixed\nfor each particular case. As it was an established custom, the king\ncould not take offence, and he was not discontented with his lot. On\nthe contrary, he considered his a very happy life, while other men,\nabandoned without restraint to their natural passions, were exposed\nto many inconveniences and dangers. He thought himself fortunate\nin often seeing other men violate their consciences by persisting\nin bad designs, influenced by love, hatred, or some other passion,\nwhile he himself, emulous of living after the example of the wisest\nof men, could only fall into venial errors. Animated with such just\nsentiments, the king conciliated the affection of his people as that\nof his family. Not only the priesthood, but all the Egyptian nation\nwere less solicitous about their own families and possessions than\nabout the safety of the king.[207] All the kings mentioned followed\nthis political _r\u00e9gime_ for a long time, and led a happy life under\nthese laws. Besides, they conquered many nations, acquired great\nwealth, adorned the country with wonderful works and monuments, and\nthe cities with rich and varied ornaments.\"[208]\n\nWe have thought proper to quote this long passage from Diodorus,\nbecause it clearly shows how the Egyptians regarded the duties and\nattributes of royalty. A limited knowledge of their sentiments makes\nus feel that Diodorus must have faithfully described the regulations\nmaintained by the priests from the beginning of this ancient\nmonarchy. Until the latest times, that is, till the Roman conquest,\nthe prince, called to the throne by his birth, was enthroned and\nconsecrated in a general assembly of the priesthood convoked at\nMemphis, \"in order to observe the legal ceremonies prescribed for the\ncoronation.\"[209]\n\nWhen we examine the sacerdotal order, the influence it exercised over\nthe king, in keeping him within the limits of moderation and justice,\nwill be perceived.\n\nThe veneration of the Egyptians for their kings led them from the\nfirst to render them divine honors. \"Egypt,\" says M. Mariette, \"had a\ngenuine worship for its kings, whom they styled beneficent gods, and\nregarded as the 'Sons of the Sun.'\"\n\n\"The ureus (the asp) ornamented the brows of all the kings. It is\nalso found adorning the foreheads of some of the gods. 'The asp does\nnot grow old,' says Plutarch (Isis and Osiris), 'and, though without\norgans of locomotion, it moves with great facility.' The Egyptians\nconsidered it as the emblem of the eternal youth of the sun and its\ncourse in the heavens.\"\n\nThe sentiment of loyalty was carried so far among the Egyptians that\nit was considered a duty to obey their kings even in the caprices of\ntheir fantasy and pride. They respected those who were bad while they\nlived, reserving the right of judging them after their death.\n\n\"What took place at the death of their kings was not one of the\nleast proofs of their attachment to them, for the honors rendered\nto the dead are an incontestable proof of sincerity of affection.\nWhen one of the kings died, all the inhabitants mourned, rent\ntheir garments, closed the temples, abstained from sacrifices, and\ncelebrated no festivals for seventy-two days. Every one passed the\nprescribed number of days in affliction and mourning, as for the\ndeath of a cherished child. During this time preparations were made\nfor a magnificent funeral, and on the last day they placed the chest\ncontaining the body of the deceased at the entrance of the tomb.\nThey then proceeded, according to the law, to pass judgment on all\nthe king had done during his life. Every one had the right of making\nhis accusation. The priests pronounced a panegyric, relating the\npraiseworthy deeds of the king. Thousands of auditors applauded it\nif the king's life had been without reproach; if otherwise, they\nexpressed their disapproval by murmurs. Many kings, through the\nopposition of the people, were deprived of suitable burial. This\nled their successors to deal justly, not only for reasons already\nmentioned, but for fear their bodies might be treated ignominiously\nafter death, and their memory be for ever cursed.\"[210]\n\n\"There are still to be seen in Egypt,\" says Champollion-Figeac,\n\"testimonies significant of this custom. The names of some sovereigns\nare carefully effaced from the monuments they had erected during\ntheir reign. They are carefully hammered down even on their tombs.\"\nAmong the names of the kings thus condemned after death, Champollion\nmentions that of Pharaoh Mandou\u00e9i, of the eighteenth dynasty.\nWherever this name stood, on all representations of the king, or on\nthe edifices he had erected, it is carefully effaced and hammered,\nthough expressed by the image of the god Mandou, whose name he bore.\nThe systematic suppression of this king's name on all the public\nmonuments can only be explained as the result of one of those severe\njudgments passed by the Egyptian nation upon wicked kings after their\ndeath.[211]\n\n\"There was in Egypt,\" says Bossuet, \"a kind of judgment, quite\nextraordinary, which no one escaped.... This custom of judging kings\nafter their death appeared so sacred to the people of God, that they\nalways practised it. We see in the Scriptures that wicked kings were\ndeprived of burial among their ancestors, and we learn from Josephus\nthat this custom was still kept up in the time of the Asmoneans. It\nled kings to remember that, if above human judgment during their\nlives, they must be subjected thereto when death reduced them to the\nlevel of ordinary mortals.\"[212]\n\nNotwithstanding so many wise precautions, the kings of Egypt did\nnot always pursue the course so clearly marked out by the national\ntraditions and the interests of the nation. More than one Pharaoh,\nintoxicated by sovereign authority, made his subjects experience the\nheavy hand of tyranny. The numerous changes of dynasties (thirty-one\nare reckoned before the conquest by Alexander the Great) also show\nthat the nation more than once succeeded in overthrowing the despotic\ngovernment of those that abused their power. But, through all changes\nof dynasties, and in spite of the struggles of rival families, the\nEgyptians always remained faithful to the monarchical principle,\nindissolubly attached to its institutions, customs, and manners.\n\"At no time,\" says Herodotus, \"have the Egyptians been able to live\nwithout kings.\"\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[181] Mariette, _Notice des principaux Monuments expos\u00e9s dans les\nGaleries provisoires du Mus\u00e9e d'Antiquit\u00e9s Egyptiennes de S. A. le\nVice-Roi, \u00e0 Boulaq_. Alexandrie. 1864. It may be well to remark\nhere that the antiquity of the Egyptian nation is by no means\nirreconcilable with the Septuagint, as Mgr. Meignan shows in his\nlearned work on _Le Monde primitif_, pp. 164 and 151. Paris. 1869.\nPalm\u00e9.\n\n[182] _Egypt ancienne_, by Champollion-Figeac. Paris. 1859.\n\n[183] _Aper\u00e7u de l'Histoire d'Egypte depuis les Temps les plus\nrecul\u00e9s jusqu'\u00e0 la Conqu\u00eate Musulmane._ By Auguste Mariette-Bey,\nDirector of the Company for the Preservation of Egyptian Antiquities.\nAlexandria. 1864.\n\n[184] E. Renan. _Les Antiquit\u00e9s et les Fouilles d'Egypte_ (_Revue des\nDeux Mondes_, for April 1, 1865).\n\n[185] H. Dufresne, _Moniteur Officiel_ for July 2, 1867.\n\n[186] Gladstone.\n\n[187] Bossuet, _Discours sur l'Histoire universelle_.\n\n[188] Robiau, _Histoire ancienne du Peuple de l'Orient_, p. 83.\n\n[189] Mariette, _Notice des principaux Monuments du Mus\u00e9e\nd'Antiquit\u00e9s Egyptiennes \u00e0 Boulaq_, P. 75.\n\n[190] Little moral treatise by Phtah-Hotep, who lived in the reign\nof Assa-Tatkera, the last king but one of the fifth dynasty--partly\ntranslated by M. Chabas in the _Revue Arch\u00e9ol._, xxix., first series.\n\n[191] Champollion-Figeac, _Egypte ancienne_, 173.\n\n[192] Robiau, _Histoire anc. des Peuples de l'Orient_.\n\n[193] De Bonald, _Th\u00eaorie du Pouvoir_, vol. i. p. 253.\n\n[194] Champollion-Figeac.\n\n[195] Champollion-Figeac, _Egypte ancienne_, p. 173.\n\n[196] Diodorus.\n\n[197] Bossuet, _Discours sur l'Histoire univ_. The passage from\nDiodorus which inspired the sagacious reflections of the illustrious\nBishop of Meaux is this: \"Wrestling and music are not allowed to be\ntaught, for, according to the Egyptian belief, the daily exercise of\nthe body gives young men not health, but a transient strength which\nis prejudicial. As to music, it is considered not only useless, but\ninjurious, as rendering the mind of man effeminate.\"\n\n[198] The large wigs so often found on the monuments of the ancient\nmonarchy, worn by both sexes, like the turban, were a preservative\nagainst the ardor of the sun's rays.\n\n[199] Herodotus; Diodorus Siculus.\n\n[200] Bossuet, _Histoire universelle_.\n\n[201] _Des Castes et de la Transmission h\u00e9r\u00e9ditaire des Professions\ndans l'ancienne Egypte_: a memoir published in the _Journal\ng\u00e9n\u00e9ral de l'Instruction publique_, and in Vol. X. of the _Revue\nArch\u00e9ologique_. Amp\u00e8re proves by this learned _\u00e9tude_ that \"there\nwere no _castes_ among the ancient Egyptians in the strict sense\nof that word, as it is used in India, for example.\" He very\nsatisfactorily explains how a slight inexactness in the histories\nof Herodotus and Diodorus respecting hereditary transmission in the\nclass of priests and warriors, \"sufficed to found on this inheritance\nof pursuits and the separation of classes in Egypt, a theory that\nended by becoming completely erroneous.\" M. Egger, in speaking of\nhereditary professions, says: \"It is known that every degree of the\nsocial scale in ancient Egypt rested on this foundation. It was for\na long time believed, according to Herodotus and Diodorus, that\nthe Egyptian castes were absolutely exclusive; but an interesting\nmemoir by J. J. Amp\u00e8re (1848) proves the contrary, and scientific\ndiscoveries daily confirm the truth of his observations.\" (_Bulletin\nde la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 d' Economie Sociale_, June, 1868.)\n\n[202] Diodorus. With the exception of certain fabulous relations,\neasily recognized by their mythological character, we consider\nas perfectly credible the interesting details Diodorus has left\nconcerning the manners, laws, and institutions of ancient Egypt. He\nhad visited that country himself, and did not depend on the testimony\nof others. \"We give,\" says he, \"the facts we have carefully examined,\nwhich are preserved in the records of the Egyptian priesthood.\" After\nstating that he visited that country under Ptolemy, son of Lagus,\nduring the 180th Olympiad, he adds: \"During our travels in Egypt we\nhad intercourse with many priests, and conversed with a great number\nof Ethiopian envoys. After carefully collecting all the information\nwe could find on the subject, and examining the accounts of\nhistorians, we have only admitted into our narration facts generally\nreceived.\" Lib. iii.\n\n[203] M. Troplong.\n\n[204] Probably superintendents is meant.\n\n[205] Champollion-Figeac.\n\n[206] Diodorus.\n\n[207] The ritual of the dead puts the following beautiful words into\nthe mouth of the deceased, when he justifies himself before the\ntribunal of Osiris: \"I have spoken ill neither of the king nor my own\nfather.\"\n\n[208] Diodorus.\n\n[209] Decree of 196 B.C., found on the Rosetta Stone.\n\n[210] Diodorus.\n\n[211] It could also be explained as the effect of a reaction which\noften accompanies a change of dynasty. M. F. Lenormant regards this\njudgment of kings as a mere fable. \"The king when dead,\" says he,\n\"was as much of a god as when living.\" Doubtless, but the C\u00e6sars were\nalso during their lives raised to the rank of divinities, which did\nnot prevent the Romans from killing several. We see no difficulty in\nadmitting the explicit testimony of Diodorus, corroborated by the\nopinion of Champollion the Younger as well as his brother.\n\n[212] Bossuet, _Histoire univ._, ii. 177. The Israelites probably\nborrowed this custom from the Egyptians.\n\n\n\n\nMR. CARLYLE AND P\u00c8RE BOUHOURS.\n\n\nCrying injustice and endless heartburnings are caused in social life\nby the falsehoods which malicious or foolish people shelter under the\nfamiliar quotation rubric, \"said he\" or \"said she.\" For these we may\ncharitably and to some extent allow uncertainty of human memory to go\nin extenuation.\n\nRising above the circle of cackling gossip, we know that, out of a\ndozen witnesses solemnly adjured to testify as to words spoken in\nsimultaneous hearing of all the twelve, it is rare to find any three\nof them agreeing as to the precise form of locution used, even where\nthey accord as to meaning and signification of the phrase they report.\n\nWe pass from the spoken to the written word, and are struck with the\nfact that, even in literature and in history, the too common neglect\nof conscientious accuracy of citations, in accepting them at second\nhand or from a questionable source, is the fruitful cause of wrong\njudgment of events, false estimate of men, and uncharitableness\nwithout end.\n\nIf it is sought to hold a man responsible for opinions which he\nhas deliberately written and printed, he is in justice to be held\nanswerable solely by his own record, neither more nor less. No\noccasion is there here for conflicting testimony. If arraigned for\nthose opinions, let the accusation run--_ipsissimis verbis_--with\nwhat he has written. Otherwise, flaw fatal will be found, and\nindictment sternly quashed. _Scripta manent_--his opinions are\nrecorded, and no subsequent version may be heard from him to vary\nthe obligation therein assumed. Neither, therefore, in justice, shall\nyou admit adverse parol testimony in guise of unfriendly gloss or\nexplanation to hold him responsible for more than he has advanced or\nassumed.\n\nWith swift instinct, we all mistrust reported verbal utterances\nmade by a man whose prejudice or whose passion evidently colors his\nmemory and stimulates his imagination. And, although the excuse of\nmistake or misunderstanding is not admissible where the repetition or\ncitation of printed words is concerned, yet, when a writer is quoted\nin the spirit of ridicule, blame, or sarcasm, it should suffice to\nput the reader on inquiry. Before he adopts and thereby vouches for\nthe attributed phrase, let him look well to it that the text is not\ntampered with, and that the passage, as given, be not modified--not\nto say changed--by omission or addition. A mere comma too much or too\nlittle, as we well know, may make sad havoc with a sentence, and turn\ntruth into falsehood.\n\nOld authors, and even some few careful writers down to the present\nday, show their appreciation of this responsibility in quotation by\nintrenching themselves behind an _apud_ in cases where, from any\ncause, they are unable to verify the correctness of the passage\ncited; thus throwing the burden of proof on the reporter named by\nthem.\n\nA remarkable instance of the neglect of some such precautions as\nare here mentioned may be found in a somewhat familiar citation\nmade--and, we may add, made celebrated--by no less a literary\nauthority than Mr. Carlyle.\n\nIt occurs in one of his most admirable productions, entitled _The\nState of German Literature_.\n\nThis essay, which originally appeared, in 1827, as an article in the\n_Edinburgh Review_, is rich in literary research and vigorous thought.\n\nIt is valuable not only for what it says concerning German\nliterature, but concerning all literature, and is most generally\nenjoyed and best remembered by reason of its eloquent pillorying\nand remorseless flagellation of one P\u00e8re Bouhours, who, as Mr.\nCarlyle informs us, propounded to himself the pregnant question: _Si\nun Allemand peut avoir de l'esprit?_ Indignantly the great Scotch\nessayist thus bursts out upon the unfortunate Frenchman: \"Had the\nP\u00e8re Bouhours bethought him of what country Kepler and Leibnitz were\nborn, or who it was that gave to mankind the three great elements\nof modern civilization, gunpowder, printing, and the Protestant\nreligion, it might have thrown light on his inquiry. Had he known the\n_Niebelungen-Lied_, and where _Reinecke-Fuchs_, and _Faust_, and the\n_Ship of Fools_, and four-fifths of all the popular mythology, humor,\nand romance to be found in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth\ncenturies, took its rise; had he read a page or two of Ulrich Hutten,\nOpitz, Paul Flemming, Logan, or even Lobenstein and Hoffmanswaldau,\nall of whom had already lived and written even in his day; had the\nP\u00e8re Bouhours taken this trouble, who knows but he might have found,\nwith whatever amazement, that a German could actually have a little\n_esprit_, or, perhaps, even something better? No such trouble was\nrequisite for the P\u00e8re Bouhours. Motion _in vacuo_ is well known to\nbe speedier and surer than through a resisting medium, especially to\nimponderable bodies; and so the light Jesuit, unimpeded by facts or\nprinciples of any kind, failed not to reach his conclusions; and, in\na comfortable frame of mind, to decide negatively that a German could\n_not_ have any literary talent.\"\n\nNow, if P\u00e8re Bouhours really said what is here attributed to him,\nthis fulmination, all obvious as it is, cannot be looked upon as\nunprovoked, and we may listen with sense of satisfied justice to the\ndreadful sentence pronounced upon him, which is substantially that,\nincarcerated in the immortal amber of this one untimely joke, the\nhelpless Jesuit be doomed therein to live; \"for the blessing of full\noblivion is denied him, and so he hangs suspended to his own noose,\nover the dusky pool which he struggles toward, but for a great while\nwill not reach.\" To these remarks Mr. Carlyle adds the very sensible\nreflection: \"For surely the pleasure of despising, at all times and\nin itself a dangerous luxury, is much safer _after_ the toil of\nexamining than before it.\"\n\nThis condemnation and sentence are based on a detached phrase\nseparated from its contexts, and Mr. Carlyle fails to tell us in what\nconnection or in what work was made the unfortunate speech for which\nthe French writer is thus beaten with many stripes.\n\nMight it not be that, read in its proper relation, his words signify\nsomething very different from the interpretation placed upon them as\nhere severed? So true is this that what P\u00e8re Bouhours really wrote\nhas a very different signification. Investigation demonstrates this\nand more, and shows that P\u00e8re Bouhours not only did not mean to\nexpress what is here attributed to him, but that he did not even use\nthe words thus thrust upon him as his own.\n\nIndeed, the ill-used Bouhours is introduced and dispatched so very\nsummarily, that the reader of the Edinburgh essay scarcely obtains\nmore than a glance of a literary criminal rapidly judged and sent to\nswift execution.\n\nLet us see for a moment what manner of man this Bouhours appeared to\nthe people of his day and generation. As then known, he was a writer\nof high reputation (_hors ligne_) and the author of several works,\nsome of which are still read and republished. We find certain of his\nbooks on the shelves of our largest American libraries, and a few\ndays since, in looking casually through a catalogue of publications\nmade (1869) at the Armenian convent in Venice, an interesting\nspot well known to American travellers, we noted two editions of\nBouhours's _Christian Meditations_, one in French and one in a\nTurkish translation.\n\nBouhours is also the author of a French translation of the entire New\nTestament, which is remarkable for its fidelity and its purity of\ndiction.\n\nIt is the version adopted by Lallemant in his _Reflections on the New\nTestament_. He also wrote _Remarks and Doubts concerning the French\nLanguage_, and _Ingenious Thoughts of the Fathers_. His _Mani\u00e8re de\nbien Penser_ is held by the best critics to contain much that evinces\nacuteness and delicacy of discrimination. Bouhours was always quoted\nand referred to by his contemporaries with deference.\n\nHis _Life of St. Francis Xavier_ was found worthy of an English\ntranslation by no less a celebrity than the English poet Dryden; and\nLa Harpe, who is openly unfriendly to Bouhours, says of him, \"C'\u00e9tait\nun homme lettr\u00e9 qui savait l'Italien et l'Espagnol.\"\n\nThe passage incorrectly cited by Mr. Carlyle occurs in _Les\nEntretiens a'Ariste et d'Eug\u00e8ne_, a small duodecimo volume published\nin 1671.\n\nThese _Entretiens_ or conversations are supposed to be held by two\ngentlemen of literary taste, who discuss a variety of subjects\npertaining to polite literature.\n\nOne of these topics is the French language, which is assumed to be\nthe best of all modern languages, possessing, as it does, the secret\nof uniting conciseness with clearness, and purity with politeness. On\nthis question of his native tongue, the patriotism of P\u00e8re Bouhours\nhurries him into terms of excessive praise. The French language, in\nhis opinion, combines every excellence. The Spanish he characterizes\nas a noisy torrent flooding its banks and overspreading the country;\nthe Italian, as a gentle rivulet; the French, a majestic stream that\nnever quits its level.\n\nThe Spanish, again, he compares to a proud beauty, bold in demeanor\nand splendid in attire; the Italian, to a painted coquette, ever\nornamented for effect; the French, to a modest, agreeable lady, who,\nif apparently prudish, is neither uncivil nor repulsive. Then, he\nadds, our own pronunciation is the most natural and pleasing.\n\nPatriotism of so warm a character as this, after elevating French\nlanguage and literature so freely at the expense of the Spanish and\nItalian, would hardly be likely to rate the German very high.\n\nAccordingly, in view of the great preponderance of heavy though\nlearned disquisition over that branch of German literature which\nmight be classed as polished and witty, P\u00e8re Bouhours did really\npropose the question,\n\n      SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT ETRE BEL ESPRIT?\n\n--a proposition very far from identical with that which is attributed\nto him by Mr. Carlyle, namely:\n\n      SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT AVOIR DE L'ESPRIT?\n\nThe variation simply being that Bouhours did not, as here alleged,\ndecide negatively that a German could not have any literary talent,\nbut queried if a German could be a wit.\n\nTruly a distinction with a difference.\n\nHallam, seldom incorrect in such matters, presents the matter fairly\nin stating that the P\u00e8re Bouhours \"proposed the question whether a\nGerman can by the nature of things possess any wit.\"\n\nThe misrepresentation made is a serious one, and the citation as\ncorrected deprives Mr. Carlyle's thunder of its noise, and extracts\nfrom his sarcasm all its sting.\n\nWe believe it was Thackeray who said that, notwithstanding his\nprofound respect and deep veneration for the twelve apostles, they\nreally were not the sort of persons he should care to invite to a\nfestive dinner party.\n\nP\u00e8re Bouhours would doubtless, as readily as Mr. Carlyle, concede to\nKepler and Leibnitz all the merit the most enthusiastic German could\nclaim for these great men as shining lights of science, but would\nhardly credit them with the ability to write the _Xenien_ or edit the\n_Kladderadatsch_.\n\nWhen Bouhours published his _Entretiens_, it is very certain that,\nif German literature shone in wit, the fact was not known west of\nthe Rhine. Indeed, Mr. Carlyle himself, a few paragraphs further on,\nunconsciously records the fullest vindication of P\u00e8re Bouhours. With\na patriotism quite as fervent as that of his victim, he informs us\nthat \"centuries ago translations from the German were comparatively\nfrequent in England,\" but to support this statement can only cite\n_Luther's Table Talk_ and _Jacob Boehme_. Enumeration most scant and\nmelancholy! The essayist then goes on to say: \"In the next century,\nindeed, translation ceased; but then it was, in a great measure,\n_because there was little worth translating_. The horrors of the\nThirty Years' War had desolated the country; French influence,\nextending from the courts of princes to the closets of the learned,\nlay like a baleful incubus over the far nobler ruins of Germany; and\nall free nationality vanished from its literature, or was heard only\nin faint tones, which lived in the hearts of the people, _but could\nnot reach with any effect to the ears of foreigners_.\"\n\nBut as though not satisfied with a general statement which should\njustify P\u00e8re Bouhours, Mr. Carlyle continues until he makes the\njustification clear in terms and specific by dates, telling us: \"From\nthe time of Opitz and Flemming to that of Klopstock and Lessing,\nthat is, from the early part of the seventeenth to the middle of the\neighteenth century, they [the Germans] had scarcely any literature\nknown abroad, _or deserving to be known_.\"\n\nNow, Dominic Bouhours, born in Paris, 1628, asked the famous\nquestion, _Si un Allemand peut \u00eatre bel esprit?_ in 1671, and died\nin 1702. Thus his earthly career was comprised precisely within the\nperiod specified by Mr. Carlyle as that during which the Germans\nwere without not only _belles-lettres_, but any literature whatever\ndeserving to be known.\n\nBut, going back to the middle ages, Mr. Carlyle, strangely enough\nholds Bouhours responsible, because of his want of familiarity with\nthe _Niebelungen-Lied_, _Reinecke-Fuchs_, and other monuments of\nearly German literature. \"Had he known the _Niebelungen-Lied_\" is\nasked mockingly. This is hardly just, when we reflect that no one\nbetter than Mr. Carlyle knows that Germany of the Bouhours period was\nitself, in the main, ignorant of and profoundly indifferent to the\nmerits of these remarkable productions. Only long years afterward,\nfollowing on ages of oblivion as to their very existence in their own\ncountry, were they brought to light, and it is principally owing to\nthe exertions of the comparatively new Romantic school that modern\nGermany has been made acquainted with the _Niebelungen-Lied_ and\nother great middle-age poems.\n\nIt is true that Bodmer in Switzerland first put a portion of the\n_Niebelungen_ (\"Chrimhilde's Revenge\") in print, in 1757; but, as Mr.\nCarlyle has elsewhere informed us, it was August Wilhelm Schlegel\nwho \"succeeded in awakening something like a universal popular\nfeeling on the subject,\" and he refers to this and the like poems as\n\"manuscripts that for ages have lain dormant,\" and now come \"from\ntheir archives into public view,\" \"a phenomenon unexpected till of\nlate\"--stating that \"the _Niebelungen_ is welcomed as a precious\nnational possession--_recovered after six centuries of neglect_.\"\nFrom which it would appear that, at his peril, Bouhours, in 1671,\nmust be familiar with \"a precious national possession\" of the\nGermans, which they themselves, before and after that period, treated\nwith \"centuries of neglect.\" Being a Jesuit, it is, of course,\neminently proper, according to a time-honored custom in English\nliterature, that he should be made responsible for everything--the\nSpanish Inquisition and Original Sin included.\n\nMr. Carlyle patriotically closes his eyes to English ignorance and\nindifference touching German literature, even when claiming for\nGreat Britain only a lesser density of ignorance concerning it than\nafflicted France.\n\nWriting as late as 1827, he fairly admits that the literature and\ncharacter of Germany \"are still very generally unknown to us, or,\nwhat is worse, misknown,\" that its \"false and tawdry ware\" reached\nEngland before \"the chaste and truly excellent,\" and that \"Kotzebue's\ninsanity spread faster by some fifty years than Lessing's wisdom.\"\nAnd the British ignorance, it is admitted, is not confined to German\nliterature. \"For what more do we know\"--thus Mr. Carlyle clinches the\nquestion--\"of recent Spanish or Italian literature than of German; of\nGrossi and Manzoni, of Campomanos or Jovellanos, than of Tieck and\nRichter?\"\n\nReally, when we contemplate the enlightened Englishman of 1827 thus\nheld up to our gaze, how can we withhold from the abused Frenchman of\n1671 our profound admiration?\n\nNow, if, on reflection, Mr. Carlyle estimates the imputation on\nGerman literature of a lack of wit and humor as a serious offence--if\nhe considers actionable and punishable Father Bouhours's query,\n\n      SI UN ALLEMAND PEUT ETRE BEL ESPRIT?\n\nhe need not go back two centuries for a criminal of whom to make\nan example. We have in custody for him one of this century--of\nthis decade--nay, of this very year. He is a living culprit, and,\nmoreover, a distinguished one. Here is a copy of the words in which\nhe offends, and, if we are not mistaken, he may be found in Mr.\nCarlyle's bailiwick: \"There is, perhaps, no nation where the general\nstandard of wit and humor is so low as with the Germans--no other\npeople at least are so easily entertained with indifferent jokes\"\n(_Saturday Review_, London, March 18, 1871).\n\n\n\n\nOUR LADY OF LOURDES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF HENRI LASSERRE.\n\n\nPART IX.\n\nVII.\n\n    PASTORAL LETTER OF THE BISHOP OF TARBES, GIVING HIS\n    DECISION REGARDING THE APPARITIONS WHICH TOOK PLACE AT\n    THE GROTTO OF LOURDES.\n\n    \"BERTRAND-SEVERE LAURENCE, by the divine mercy, and the\n    favor of the Apostolic See, Bishop of Tarbes, Assistant\n    at the Pontifical Throne, etc. To the clergy and\n    faithful of our diocese, health and benediction in our\n    Lord Jesus Christ.\n\n    \"Beloved co-laborers and most dear brethren: In\n    all epochs of humanity, marvellous communications\n    have taken place between earth and heaven. At the\n    commencement of the world, the Lord appeared to our\n    first parents to reproach them with their disobedience.\n    During the ages which succeeded, we see him conversing\n    with the patriarchs and prophets. The Old Testament\n    is often nothing more than a history of the heavenly\n    apparitions with which the children of Israel were\n    favored. These favors did not cease with the Mosaic\n    law; on the contrary, they became, under the law of\n    grace, more striking, more numerous. In the infancy\n    of the church, those times of bloody persecution, the\n    Christians received visits from Jesus Christ and the\n    angels, who came, sometimes, to reveal to them secrets\n    of the future or to deliver them from their chains;\n    at other times, to strengthen them for combat. Thus\n    it was, according to a judicious writer, that God\n    encouraged those illustrious confessors of the faith,\n    when the powers of earth united to strangle in its\n    cradle that truth which was to save the world.\n\n    \"These manifestations from the other world were not the\n    exclusive lot of the first centuries of Christianity.\n    History attests that they have been continued from age\n    to age, for the glory of religion and the edification\n    of the faithful. Among these heavenly apparitions,\n    those of the Blessed Virgin occupy a prominent place,\n    and have been an abundant source of blessing to the\n    world. As the traveller journeys over that part of\n    the earth which has been the home of Christianity, he\n    everywhere meets temples consecrated to the Mother of\n    God; and many of them owe their origin to an apparition\n    of the Queen of heaven. We already possess one of these\n    blessed sanctuaries, founded four centuries ago, on\n    account of revelations made to a young shepherdess,\n    where thousands of pilgrims repair yearly to kneel\n    before the throne of the glorious Virgin Mother Mary to\n    implore her for special favors.[213]\n\n    \"Thanks be to God Almighty!--for, among the treasures\n    of his infinite bounty, he has reserved for us another\n    favor. He desires that, in our diocese of Tarbes, a\n    new sanctuary should rise to the glory of Mary. And\n    what instrument has he made use of to communicate his\n    merciful designs? One which would be the very weakest\n    in the eyes of the world--a child of fourteen years,\n    Bernadette Soubirous, one of the daughters of a poor\n    family of Lourdes.\"\n\nHere the bishop gives a summary of the apparitions. The reader is\naware of them already. Mgr. Laurence then proceeds to discuss the\nfacts:\n\n    \"Such, in substance,\" he further continues, \"is the\n    account we ourselves heard from Bernadette, before the\n    commissioners assembled to re-examine the affair.\n\n    \"Thus, this young girl has seen a being calling herself\n    the Immaculate Conception, who, although appearing\n    in human form, was neither seen nor heard by any of\n    the numerous spectators present at the scene. It was\n    consequently some kind of a supernatural being. What is\n    to be thought of such an event?\n\n    \"You are well aware, dearly beloved brethren, that the\n    church exercises a wise deliberation in determining\n    supernatural facts, and that she demands certain\n    proof before admitting them to be divine. Since the\n    original fall, man has been liable to many errors,\n    particularly in this matter. If not led astray by\n    his reason, now weakened, he has suffered himself to\n    become the dupe of the evil one. Who does not know that\n    the devil sometimes transforms himself into an angel\n    of light, in order to draw us into his snares? Thus\n    the beloved disciple warns us not to believe every\n    spirit, but to try the spirits if they come from God.\n    This trial we have made. The event of which we are\n    treating has been, for four years, the object of our\n    solicitude; we have followed it throughout its various\n    phases. We have consulted the commission, made up of\n    pious, learned, and experienced priests, who have\n    examined facts, questioned the little girl, weighed\n    and deliberated concerning all. We have, also, invoked\n    the authority of science, and remain firmly convinced\n    that the apparition was supernatural and divine, and,\n    consequently, that what Bernadette saw was really and\n    truly the Most Blessed Virgin Mary. Our conviction\n    is based upon the testimony of Bernadette, but, more\n    especially, upon the events which have transpired, and\n    which can be explained only by supposing some heavenly\n    intervention.\n\n    \"The testimony of the little girl affords all the\n    security that can be desired. Her sincerity cannot be\n    doubted. No one who comes in contact with her can fail\n    to admire her childish simplicity, candor, and modesty.\n    While everybody is engaged in discussing these marvels,\n    she keeps silence; she speaks only when questioned,\n    and then relates everything without affectation, and\n    with touching ingenuousness. She returns unhesitating,\n    clear, and precise answers to the questions which are\n    put to her, and conveys the impression of most perfect\n    conviction of what she says.\n\n    \"Though subjected to rude trials, she has never been\n    shaken by threats. The most generous offers she has\n    rejected with perfect disinterestedness. Always\n    perfectly consistent, she has maintained her original\n    statements throughout the numberless examinations\n    she has undergone, without adding or withdrawing\n    anything. The sincerity of Bernadette is, therefore,\n    incontestable. We may add, it is uncontested. Those who\n    have opposed her have rendered her this homage at least.\n\n    \"But, admitting that she has not intended to deceive\n    others, has she not been herself deceived? Has she\n    not imagined that she saw something where nothing,\n    in fact, existed? Has she not been the victim of a\n    hallucination? The good sense displayed in her answers\n    reveals an accurate mind, a quiet imagination, and\n    a sound judgment, surpassing her age. Her religious\n    sentiments have never possessed the character of\n    enthusiasm; nothing has been remarked about the\n    young girl indicating intellectual disorder, or any\n    eccentricity of character, any alteration of the\n    senses or morbid affection which predispose her to\n    imaginations of this kind. She has had this vision,\n    not once, but eighteen times; then, it has appeared\n    suddenly, when nothing could have prepared her for what\n    was about to take place; and, during the fortnight when\n    she daily expected it, she saw nothing for two days,\n    though placed in circumstances entirely similar to\n    those of the previous occasion.\n\n    \"But what took place during the time of these\n    apparitions? A complete transformation was effected\n    in Bernadette herself. Her countenance assumed a new\n    expression, her features were lit up; she saw things\n    which she had never seen before, and heard a language\n    which she does not ordinarily understand, but of which\n    she preserved the memory. These combined circumstances\n    do not admit the possibility of hallucination. The\n    little girl has really seen and heard a being who calls\n    herself the Immaculate Conception; and, since we cannot\n    explain this phenomenon naturally, we are forced to\n    attribute it to a supernatural cause.\n\n    \"The testimony of Bernadette derives additional force,\n    its confirmation, we should say, from the wonderful\n    events which have accompanied it throughout.\n\n    \"If the tree is to be judged by its fruits, we can\n    certainly say that the apparition described by the\n    little girl is supernatural and divine. For it has\n    produced supernatural and divine effects. What,\n    then, has happened, dearly beloved? Scarcely was the\n    apparition made known, when the news spread with the\n    rapidity of lightning. It was known that Bernadette was\n    to visit the grotto daily for a fortnight. The whole\n    land is astir. Streams of people flow to the place of\n    apparition. They await, with religious impatience,\n    the solemn hour. And when the girl appears, rapt and\n    absorbed in the object of her ecstasy, the witnesses\n    of this prodigy, moved and softened, are melted in a\n    sentiment of admiration and prayer. The apparitions\n    have now ceased, but the throng continues. Pilgrims\n    come from distant lands. Every age and rank and\n    condition is to be seen kneeling before the grotto.\n    What sentiment moves these countless visitors? Ah!\n    they come to the grotto to implore the special help of\n    the Immaculate Mary. They prove by their recollected\n    mien that they breathe the divine atmosphere which\n    surrounds these hallowed rocks, already become famous.\n    Christian souls are strengthened in virtue; men frozen\n    up by indifference are brought back to the practice of\n    religion; hardened sinners are reconciled to God when\n    Our Lady of Lourdes has been invoked in their behalf.\n    These wonders of grace, which are complete and lasting,\n    can have no author save God. Do they not strikingly\n    confirm the truth of the apparitions? If we now pass\n    from effects wrought for the salvation of souls to\n    those which concern the healing of bodily ills, how\n    many prodigies must we not recount?\"\n\nOur readers have not forgotten the breaking forth of the spring, at\nwhich Bernadette drank and washed, before the assembled crowds. It\nwill be superfluous to repeat these details. The bishop continues:\n\n    \"Sick persons have made use of the water, and not\n    without success. Many, whose diseases have resisted\n    most energetic treatment, have suddenly recovered\n    health. These extraordinary cures have been noised\n    abroad. Invalids from all quarters have sent for this\n    Massabielle water, when unable to transport themselves\n    to the grotto.\n\n    \"How many infirm have been cured, how many afflicted\n    families have been consoled!\n\n    \"If we wished to call for their testimony, countless\n    voices would be lifted up in acknowledgment of the\n    sovereign efficacy of this water. We cannot here\n    enumerate all the favors obtained; but what we are\n    obliged to say, is, that the Massabielle water has\n    cured desperate invalids who had been declared\n    incurable. These cures have been worked by the use of\n    water devoid of any healing properties, according to\n    the acknowledgments of skilful chemists, after rigorous\n    analysis. Some cures have been wrought instantaneously,\n    others after using the water twice or thrice as a drink\n    or lotion. Moreover, these cures are permanent. What\n    power has wrought them? Some organic power? Science\n    answers negatively. They are, therefore, the work of\n    God. But, they refer to the apparitions; these are\n    their source; these have inspired the sick people with\n    confidence. Hence, there is an intimate connection\n    between the cures and the apparitions. The apparition\n    is divine, because the cures bear the seal of divine\n    power. But that which comes from God is true; and,\n    therefore, the apparition which Bernadette saw and\n    heard, and which gave itself the name of the Immaculate\n    Conception, is the Blessed Virgin herself. Well may we\n    cry out: The finger of God is here! _Digitus Dei est\n    hic._\n\n    \"How, then, can any one fail to admire the economy\n    of divine Providence? At the end of the year 1854,\n    the immortal Pius IX. proclaimed the dogma of the\n    Immaculate Conception. The whole earth re-echoed the\n    words of its supreme pastor; Catholic hearts trembled\n    with joy, and everywhere the glorious privilege of\n    Mary was celebrated by _f\u00eates_, which will ever remain\n    graven in the memory of those who witnessed them. And,\n    behold, three years afterward, the Blessed Virgin\n    appears to one of our children, and says: I am the\n    Immaculate Conception: here will I have a chapel built\n    in my honor. Does she not seem to desire to consecrate\n    by this monument the infallible oracle of St. Peter?\n\n    \"Where will she have this monument erected? At the foot\n    of our own Pyrenees, where many strangers meet from all\n    parts of the world to seek health at our waters. May we\n    not say that she invites the faithful of all nations\n    to come and honor her in the new temple which shall be\n    built to her?\n\n    \"Citizens of Lourdes, rejoice! The august Mary\n    condescends to cast upon you her merciful eyes.\n    She desires to build beside your walls a sanctuary\n    stored with blessings. Thank her for this token of\n    predilection; and, since she lavishes her motherly\n    tenderness upon you, show yourselves her children by\n    imitating her virtues, and by a fixed attachment to\n    religion.\n\n    \"It is with joy that we acknowledge the fruits of\n    salvation which the apparition has already caused to\n    spring up abundantly among you. Eye-witnesses of the\n    events at the grotto and their happy results, your\n    confidence has been as great as your conviction has\n    been strong. We have ever admired your prudence and\n    docility in following our counsels of obedience and\n    submission to the civil authority, when for some weeks\n    you were hindered from visiting the grotto, and were\n    forced to restrain in your own hearts the sentiments\n    inspired by what you had there beheld during the\n    fortnight of the apparitions.\n\n    \"And you, our well-beloved children, open your hearts\n    to hope. A new era of grace and benediction has\n    dawned upon you; you are called to share in what has\n    been promised to all. In your prayers and canticles,\n    henceforth, you will mingle the name of Our Lady\n    of Lourdes with the blessed titles of Our Lady of\n    Garaison, of Poeyla\u00fcn, of H\u00e9as, and of Pi\u00e9tat.\n\n    \"From these sanctuaries the Immaculate Virgin will\n    watch over you, and cover you with the shield of her\n    protection. Yes, beloved co-laborers and dearest\n    brethren, if, with hearts full of confidence, we fix\n    our glance upon this 'Star of the Sea,' we shall pass\n    without fear of shipwreck through the tempests of life,\n    and arrive safely in the haven of eternal bliss.\n\n      \"WHEREFORE:\n\n    \"Having consulted with our venerable brethren, the\n    dignitaries, canons, and chapter of our cathedral\n    church;\n\n    \"The holy name of God having been invoked; following\n    the rules laid down by Benedict XIV., in his work\n    on _Beatification and Canonization of Saints_, for\n    discerning true and false apparitions; seeing the\n    favorable report of the commission charged with the\n    examination of the apparition at the grotto of Lourdes,\n    and the facts connected with it;\n\n    \"Seeing the written testimony of the medical doctors,\n    whom we have consulted in reference to the numerous\n    cures obtained by use of water from this grotto;\n\n    \"Considering, in the first place, that the fact of the\n    apparition, whether in regard to the effects produced\n    upon her who saw it, or its other extraordinary\n    results, cannot be explained by natural means;\n\n    \"Considering, secondly, that the cause cannot be other\n    than divine, by reason of the effects which have\n    followed its operation, such as the conversion of\n    sinners and derogation from the fixed laws of nature,\n    namely, miraculous cures, which can only come from him\n    who is the author of grace and nature;\n\n    \"Considering, finally, that our own conviction is\n    strengthened by the immense and spontaneous concourse\n    of the faithful, which has never ceased at the grotto\n    since the first apparitions, and whose only object is\n    to implore favors or return thanks for those which have\n    been already obtained;\n\n    \"In response to the just impatience of our venerable\n    chapter, of the clergy and laity of our diocese, and of\n    so many pious souls who have long been calling upon the\n    ecclesiastical authority for a decision which prudence\n    has caused us hitherto to refrain from giving;\n\n    \"Desiring, also, to satisfy the wishes of several\n    of our colleagues in the episcopate, and of many\n    distinguished strangers to our diocese;\n\n    \"Having invoked the light of the Holy Ghost, and the\n    assistance of the Blessed Virgin,\n\n      WE HAVE DECLARED, AND HEREBY\n          DECLARE AS FOLLOWS:\n\n    \"Art. 1. We, decide that the Immaculate Mary, the\n    Mother of God, really did appear to Bernadette\n    Soubirous, on the eleventh of February, 1858, and on\n    several days following, altogether eighteen times, in\n    the Massabielle Grotto, near the town of Lourdes; that\n    this apparition has every guarantee of truth, and that\n    the faithful have solid reason for believing it to be\n    certain.\n\n    \"We submit ourselves humbly to the judgment of the\n    Sovereign Pontiff, to whom belongs the government of\n    the universal church.\n\n    \"Art. 2. We authorize in our diocese the worship of\n    Our Lady of the Grotto of Lourdes; but we prohibit any\n    particular prayers, any canticle, any book of devotion,\n    to be published on this subject without our written\n    approbation.\n\n    \"Art. 3. In conformity with the desire of the Blessed\n    Virgin, several times expressed during her apparitions,\n    we propose to build a shrine on the site of the grotto,\n    which has now become the property of the Bishop of\n    Tarbes.\n\n    \"This edifice, on account of its steep and rocky\n    foundation, will require great labor and expense.\n    We need, therefore, to carry out our design, the\n    assistance of the priests and faithful of our own\n    diocese, of our country, France, and also from abroad.\n    We appeal to all generous hearts, and particularly to\n    all persons of every country who are devoted to the\n    worship of the Immaculate Virgin Mary.\n\n    \"Art. 4. We address with confidence all institutions\n    of either sex consecrated to the education of youth,\n    to the congregations of the 'Children of Mary,' to the\n    confraternities of the Blessed Virgin, and other pious\n    societies of our own diocese, and throughout France.\n\n    \"This, our pastoral, shall be read and published in\n    all the churches, chapels, seminaries, colleges, and\n    hospices of our diocese on the Sunday following its\n    reception.\n\n    \"Given at Tarbes, in our episcopal palace, under our\n    seal and signature, and the counter-signature of our\n    secretary, January 18, 1862, being the feast of the\n    Chair of St. Peter at Rome.\n\n                       \"\u2720 BERTRAND-SRE., _Bishop of Tarbes_.\n\n    \"By order, FOURCADE, _Canon-Secretary_.\"\n\n\nVIII.\n\nIn the name of his see, or, rather, in that of the church, Mgr.\nLaurence purchased from the town of Lourdes the grotto and the\nsurrounding lands, and the whole group of Massabielle rocks. M.\nLacad\u00e9 was still mayor. He it was who proposed to the municipal\ncouncil to cede to the church, the bride of Christ, those places\nwhich had been consecrated for ever by the appearance of his heavenly\nMother. He, also, signed the deed of transfer.\n\nM. Rouland authorized the sale, and also the erection of a church\nin perpetual memory of the apparition of the Blessed Virgin to\nBernadette Soubirous, in memory of the fountain and the numberless\nmiracles which had attested the heavenly visions.\n\nWhile the vast temple dedicated to the Immaculate Conception was\nslowly rising, stone upon stone, Our Lady of Lourdes continued to\nshower blessings and graces upon her clients. At Paris and Bordeaux,\nin Perigord, Brittany, and Anjou, amid solitary and rural scenes and\nin the heart of popular cities, Our Lady of Lourdes was invoked, and\nanswered with unquestionable signs of her power and goodness.\n\nBefore closing our recital and presenting the picture of things as\nthey now exist, let us narrate two of these divine histories. One of\nthem forms an episode in the life of the writer of these pages which\nnothing can ever efface from his memory. We give it as we wrote it\ndown nearly seven years ago.\n\n\nPART X.\n\nI.\n\nDuring my whole life, I had always enjoyed the blessing of good\nsight. I was able to distinguish objects at a great distance, and\nalso to read with ease when my book was close to my eyes. I never\nsuffered the least weakness of sight after whole nights passed in\nstudy. I often wondered and rejoiced at the strength and clearness of\nmy vision. Thus, it was a great surprise and a cruel disenchantment\nwhen in June and July, 1862, I felt my eyesight becoming gradually\nweak, unable to work at night, and, finally, incapable of any use,\nso that I was obliged to give up altogether reading and writing.\nIf I chanced to pick up a book, after reading three or four lines,\nsometimes at the first glance, I felt such weakness in the upper\npart of my eyes as to render it impossible to continue. I consulted\nseveral physicians, and principally the two famous oculists, Desmares\nand Giraud-Teulon.\n\nThe remedies prescribed by them were of little or no avail. After\na slight rest, and a treatment principally composed of iron, I had\na slight respite, and once read during a considerable portion of\nthe afternoon. But, the following day, I relapsed into my former\ncondition. Then I began to try local remedies, applications of\ncold water on the ball of the eye, cupping on the neck, a general\nhydropathic treatment, and alcoholic lotions around the eyes.\nSometimes I experienced a slight relief from the weariness which\ngenerally oppressed them, but this was only for a moment. In short,\nmy disease assumed all the appearances of a chronic and incurable\nmalady.\n\nAccording to advice, I condemned my eyes to absolute repose. Not\ncontent with putting on blue eye-glasses, I had left Paris, and\nwas living in the country with my mother, at Coux, on the banks of\nthe Dordogne. I had taken with me a young person, who acted as my\nsecretary, writing at my dictation, and who read to me the books\nwhich I wished to consult.\n\nSeptember had arrived. This state had lasted for three months. I\nbegan to be seriously alarmed. I felt a gloomy foreboding which\nI dared not communicate to any one. My family shared the same\napprehensions, but likewise shrank from manifesting them. We were\nboth convinced that my sight was gone, but both sought to reassure\none another, and to conceal our mutual anxiety.\n\nI had a most intimate friend, in whom I had confided from boyhood\nall my joys and sorrows. I dictated to my secretary a letter to him,\nin which I described my sad condition, and the fears which I had for\nthe future. The friend of whom I speak is a Protestant, as is also\nhis wife. This twofold circumstance requires to be mentioned. Grave\nreasons prevent me from giving his name. We shall call him M. de ----.\n\nHe answered my letter a few days afterward. His letter reached me on\nthe fifteenth of September, and surprised me greatly. I transcribe it\nhere, without changing a word:\n\n\"MY DEAR FRIEND: Your few lines gave me great pleasure; but, as\nI have told you before, I long to hear from you in _your own\nhandwriting_. A few days ago, as I returned from Cauterets, I passed\nthrough Lourdes (in the neighborhood of Tarbes). I visited the famous\ngrotto, and heard about the extraordinary things that have been\ntaking place there, and the cures produced by the waters in cases of\ndiseased eyes. I earnestly recommend you to try it. If I were like\nyou, a believing Catholic, and laboring under any illness, I would\ncertainly try this chance. If it be true that invalids have been\nsuddenly cured, perhaps your name may swell the number. If it be not\ntrue, where is the risk? I may add that I am personally interested\nin this matter. If the experiment succeeds, what an important fact\nfor me to face! I would be in the presence of a miraculous event, or,\nat any rate, an event whose principal witness would be above all\nsuspicion.\"\n\n\"It appears,\" he added in post-script, \"that it is not necessary to\ngo to Lourdes itself to take the water there, since you can have\nit sent. It is only necessary to ask the cur\u00e9 of Lourdes; he will\nforward it without delay. Certain conditions have to be fulfilled of\nwhich I am not perfectly informed, but of which the cur\u00e9 of Lourdes\nwill tell you. Ask him also to send you the little pamphlet by the\nvicar-general of Tarbes, which gives an account of the miracles that\nhave been most thoroughly proved.\"\n\nThis letter of my friend was well calculated to fill me with\nastonishment. His was an exact, positive, and at the same time a\nlofty mind, not at all liable to the illusions of enthusiasm, and,\nbesides, he was a Protestant. Such a piece of advice coming from\nhim, in such an urgent manner, filled me with amazement. However, I\nresolved not to follow it.\n\n\"It seems to me,\" I replied, \"that I am to-day a little better. If\nthis improvement continues, I shall not have need of your proposed\nand extraordinary remedy, for which, besides, I have not, perhaps,\nthe necessary faith.\"\n\nAnd here, I must confess, not without a blush, the secret motives of\nmy resistance.\n\nWhatever I may have said, it was not faith which was lacking; and,\nalthough ignorant of particulars concerning the water of Lourdes,\nexcept through the impertinent remarks of certain ill-disposed\njournals, I was certain that the power of God could be manifested\nby cures here as well as elsewhere. I will say more: I had a secret\npresentiment that if I tried this water, springing, as some said,\nin consequence of an apparition of the Blessed Virgin, I should be\ncured. But, to tell the simple truth, I feared the responsibility of\nsuch a favor. \"If the doctor cures you,\" I said to myself, \"every\naccount is squared as soon as you have handed him his fee. You will\nbe in the same condition as everybody else. But if God cures you by a\nspecial act of his providence, it will be quite another affair, and\nyou will have to amend your life and become a saint. If God gives you\nback those eyes of yours with his own hands, how can you ever let\nthem rest upon objects which draw you away from him? God will demand\nhis fee; and it will amount to more than the doctor's. You must give\nup this and that bad habit, you must acquire such and such virtues,\nand others that you know nothing of. How will you do all this? Ah!\nthis is too hard!\" And my miserable heart, fearing its own weakness,\nnevertheless resisted the grace of God.\n\nThus it was I rebelled against the counsel given me to have recourse\nto this miraculous intervention--against that counsel which\nProvidence, ever hidden in its ways, sent me by two Protestants, two\nheretics, outside the church. But my struggles and resistance were\nvain. An interior voice told me that the hand of man was powerless to\ncure me, and that the Master whom I had offended would return me my\nsight, and lead me to a new life, if I would make up my mind to use\nit well.\n\nMeanwhile, my condition was either stationary or slowly becoming\nworse.\n\nIn the early part of October, I was obliged to go to Paris. By an\nunlooked-for chance, M. de ---- and his wife were there at the same\ntime. My first visit was to them. My friend was staying at his\nsister's, Madame P----, who lived, together with her husband, in\nParis.\n\n\"And how are your eyes?\" asked Madame de ---- as soon as I had\nentered the parlor.\n\n\"They are always in the same condition; I begin to fear that they are\ngone.\"\n\n\"But why have you not tried the remedy that I proposed? I have a\nstrange hope that you will be cured.\"\n\n\"Pshaw!\" I replied; \"I confess that, without precisely denying or\nshowing myself hostile, I have but little faith in this water and\napparition. It is perfectly possible, I admit; but as I have not\nexamined the matter, I neither assert nor contest; I wash my hands of\nthe whole affair, and do not intend to have anything to do with it.\"\n\n\"You have no valid objections,\" he answered. \"According to your\nreligious principles, you are bound to believe at least the\npossibility of such things. Very well, then, what is to prevent you\nfrom making a trial? What is it going to cost you? It can't do you\nany harm, for it is nothing but natural water. Now, since you believe\nin miracles and in your religion, it seems to me that you ought to\nbe moved by two Protestants; and I frankly confess that, if you are\ncured, it will be a terrible argument against me.\" Madame de ----\njoined her entreaties to those of her husband. M. and Madame P----,\nwho are Catholics, insisted as warmly. I was driven to my last\nentrenchments.\n\n\"Well,\" said I at last, \"let me tell you the whole truth. I do not\nlack faith, but I am full of weaknesses, faults, and a thousand\nmiseries which are entwined with the most sensitive fibres of my\nnature. Now, a miracle would lay upon me the obligation of giving\nup everything and trying to become a saint; and I do not feel equal\nto the responsibility. If God cures me, how do I know what he will\nask of me? But if the doctor succeeds, we can settle the matter with\nmoney. You think this is disgraceful, I know; but it is nothing but\nthe truth. You have supposed that my faith has been wavering. You\nhave thought that I feared lest the miracle should not succeed. It is\nnot so. I should be only afraid that it might succeed.\"\n\nMy friends vainly tried to convince me that I was exaggerating the\nresponsibility of which I spoke.\n\n\"You are none the less obliged to seek after virtue now than if\nthe miracle had been already worked,\" said M. de ----. \"Besides,\nsupposing the physician does cure you, it will be none the less\na favor from God; and you will have just the same reasons for\nstruggling against your faults and passions.\"\n\nThis did not seem to me perfectly true; and the logical mind of M.\nde ---- probably admitted as much to itself; but he was bent upon\ncalming my apprehensions and inducing me to follow his advice.\n\nVainly did I endeavor to combat the pressing earnestness of my host\nand his wife, and my friends. I ended by promising to do whatever\nthey desired.\n\n\"As soon as I get a secretary, I will write to Lourdes; but it is too\nlate at this hour of the day.\"\n\n\"But I will do, will I not?\" answered my friend.\n\n\"Very well,\" said I, \"come and breakfast with me to-morrow at the\n_Caf\u00e9 de Foy_. I will dictate the letter after breakfast.\"\n\n\"Why not do it now? We will save one day.\"\n\nPaper and ink were at hand. I dictated a letter to the cur\u00e9 of\nLourdes. It was posted that evening.\n\nThe next day, M. de ---- came to see me. \"My dear friend,\" he said,\n\"since the die is cast, and you are going to try this experiment,\nyou ought to go seriously to work, and fulfil the conditions which\nare required in order to make a success. You must pray. You will have\nto go to confession, and put your mind in the proper state. You know\nthat all this is a prime necessity.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" I replied; \"I will do as you say. But you must\nacknowledge that you are a queer Protestant. The tables are turned;\nto-day you are preaching to me my own faith and religion, and I own\nthe contrast is not much to my advantage.\"\n\n\"I am a man of science,\" he answered. \"It is perfectly natural that\nI should wish to see all the conditions carried out, since we have\nagreed to try an experiment. I should act in this manner if we were\ndealing with physics or chemistry.\"\n\nI confess, to my shame, I did not prepare myself as my friend had\nso wisely advised me. I was in a very poor spiritual condition; my\nsoul was distracted and turned to evil. I recognized the necessity\nof throwing myself at the feet of God; but, as I had not been guilty\nof gross and brutal sins, against which nature reacts with such\nviolence, I delayed from day to day. Man is more rebellious against\nthe sacrament of penance while he is being tempted, than after he\nhas been crushed and humbled by the sight of his crime. It is more\ndifficult to combat and resist than to ask for mercy after defeat.\nWho does not know this?\n\nA week passed in this manner. M. and Mme. de ---- inquired daily if I\nhad heard any news of the miraculous water, or any word from the cur\u00e9\nof Lourdes. Finally, I received a note from him to the effect that\nthe water had been forwarded by rail, and would shortly reach me.\n\nWe awaited its arrival with great eagerness; but, strange to say, my\nProtestant friends were much more impatient than I. The state of my\neyes continued the same. It was absolutely impossible for me to read\nor write.\n\nOne morning, Friday, October 10, 1862, I was waiting for M. de ----\nin the Orleans Gallery at the Palais Royal. We breakfasted together.\nAs I had come to the place of meeting some time in advance of him, I\nemployed myself in looking about the shops and reading the list of\nnew books in front of Dentu's library. This was enough to weary my\neyes. They had become so weak that I could not let them rest upon the\nlargest signs without feeling them overpowered by lassitude. This\nlittle circumstance made me quite sad, as it showed me the extent of\nmy malady.\n\nIn the afternoon I dictated three letters to De ----, and, at four\no'clock, having left him, returned to my lodgings. As I was going\nup-stairs, the porter called to me.\n\n\"A little box has come for you from the railroad.\" I entered his\nstore-room eagerly. There was a small pine box, bearing my name and\naddress on one end, and on the other these words, doubtless intended\nfor the custom-house officials, \"Natural Water.\"\n\nIt was from Lourdes.\n\nI felt greatly excited; but did not betray any emotion.\n\n\"Very well,\" said I to the porter, \"I will take it in a few moments;\nI will return shortly.\" I stepped out again into the street.\n\n\"This matter is becoming serious,\" I said to myself. \"De ---- is\nright; I must prepare myself. In my present state, I have no right\nto ask God to work a miracle. I must set to work to heal my own soul\nbefore I can ask him to heal my body.\"\n\nReflecting on these considerations, I directed my steps toward the\nhouse of my confessor, the Abb\u00e9 Ferrand de Missol, who lived quite\nnear me. I felt certain of finding him in, for it was Friday, and he\nis always at home on that day. So indeed he was upon this occasion.\n\nBut several persons were waiting to see him, whose turn would\nnaturally come before mine. Some member of his family had just\narrived on an unexpected visit. His servant informed me of all this,\nand asked me to call again in the evening about seven o'clock.\n\nI resigned myself to my lot.\n\nAs I came to the street-door, I paused for an instant. I wavered\nbetween the desire of paying a visit which I had greatly at heart and\nthe thought of returning home to pray. I was very much inclined to\nthe distraction, but finally the good inspiration carried the day,\nand I returned toward the Rue Seine.\n\nI took from the porter the little box, to which was attached a\nnotice of the apparition at Lourdes, and, with both in my hand, I\nhastened up-stairs. On reaching my room, I knelt down at my bedside\nand prayed, all unworthy as I was to turn my eyes toward heaven.\nThen I arose. On entering, I had placed the little box and the\npamphlet upon the mantelpiece. I gazed a moment upon the little case\nwhich contained the mysterious water, and it seemed to me that some\ngreat event was about to transpire in this lonely chamber. I feared\nto touch with impure hands the wood which contained this hallowed\nwater, and yet, on the other hand, I felt a lively desire to open\nit at once, and not wait until after I had been to confession. This\nindecision lasted for a few moments, and ended with this prayer:\n\n\"O my God! I am a wretched sinner, unworthy of raising my voice to\nyou, or of touching that which you have blessed. But this very excess\nof misery ought to excite your compassion. My God, I come to you and\nto the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, full of faith and reliance upon you,\nand from the depths I cry to you. This evening I will confess my sins\nto your minister, but my faith will not suffer me to wait. Pardon me,\nLord, and heal me. And you, O Mother of Mercy! come to the help of\nyour unhappy child!\"\n\nAnd, feeling strengthened by my prayer, I opened the box. It\ncontained a bottle of pure water. I uncorked it, poured some of the\nwater into a glass, and took a napkin from the drawer.\n\nThese commonplace preparations, which I made with care, were\naccompanied by a secret solemnity, the memory of which still haunts\nme. In that room I was not alone. God was there certainly; and the\nBlessed Virgin, whom I had invoked, was also there.\n\nArdent faith inflamed my soul. When all was ready, I knelt down\nagain. \"O Blessed Virgin Mary!\" I cried in a loud voice, \"heal my\nphysical and spiritual blindness.\" Saying these words, with a heart\nfull of confidence, I bathed successively both eyes and my forehead\nwith the napkin which I had dipped in the water. This did not occupy\nmore than half a minute.\n\nJudge of my astonishment--I had almost said my terror! Scarcely had\nI touched my eyes and forehead with the miraculous water than I felt\nmyself cured, at once, without transition, with a suddenness which I\ncan compare only to lightning.\n\nStrange contradiction of human nature! A moment before I had trusted\nmy faith, which promised me a cure; now, I could not believe my\nsenses, which assured me that the cure had been worked.\n\nNo! I did not believe my senses. In spite of the startling effect\nwhich had been wrought upon me, I committed the fault of which Moses\nwas guilty, and struck the rock twice. I continued to bathe my eyes\nand forehead, not daring to open them, not daring to verify my cure.\nAt the end of ten minutes, however, the strength which I felt in my\neyes, and the absence of all heaviness, left no chance for doubt. \"I\nam cured!\"\n\nSo saying, I snatched up a book. \"No,\" said I, \"that is not the\nbook for me to be reading at this moment.\" Then I took from the\nmantelpiece the _Account of the Apparitions at Lourdes_. I read a\nhundred and four pages without stopping or feeling the least fatigue.\nTwenty minutes before, I could not have read three lines. Indeed, if\nI stopped at the hundred-and-fourth page, it was only because it was\nthirty-five minutes past five o'clock, and at this hour in October it\nis almost dark in Paris. When I laid aside my book, the gas was being\nlighted in the shops of the street in which I lived.\n\nThat evening, I made my confession to the Abb\u00e9 Ferrand, and\nacquainted him with the great gift which I had received from the\nBlessed Virgin. Although in no degree prepared, he wished me to go to\ncommunion the next day, to thank God for such an extraordinary favor,\nand to strengthen the good resolutions which it had caused to spring\nup in my soul.\n\nM. and Mme. de ---- were, as one may imagine, greatly moved by this\nevent, in which Providence had assigned them so direct a part. What\ndid they think of it? What reflections were suggested to their minds?\nWhat took place in the depth of their hearts? That secret belongs\nonly to them and to God. What little I have been able to make out, I\nam not at liberty to publish.\n\nBe this as it may, I know my friend's nature. I left him to his\nown thoughts, without urging him to the conclusion. I knew, and\nstill know, that God has his own time and his own ways. His action\nwas so manifest throughout the whole affair that I did not wish to\ninterfere, although my friends have never been ignorant of my desire\nto see them enter the only church which contains God in his fulness.\n\nI regret not being able to consider these two beings--so dear to\nme--as receiving from the reaction of the miracle of which I had been\nthe object the first shocks which truth gives to those whom it seeks\nto conquer.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSeven years have now passed since my miraculous cure. My sight is\nexcellent. Neither reading nor hard work, even when kept up late at\nnight, wearies my eyes. God grant me never to use them save in the\ncause of right.\n\nFOOTNOTE:\n\n[213] Notre Dame de Garaison.\n\n\n\n\nAMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO FRANCE.\n\n\nThe woes and crimes of unhappy France have attracted the mixed\nregards of the world; it has become an agreeable and timely diversion\nto look away from the distressing picture, to find whatever there\nis of compensation in the glories and virtues of her past; and the\noccasion is thus created to review our own obligations as a nation\nto this now stricken and humbled European power, and to determine\nhow much we are indebted to France for our own independence and\nliberty. Another interest is added to the occasion in the fact\nthat this part of our history has been but scantily told, and\nthat, as the writer is persuaded, our national vanity, notoriously\naccumulated as it is about everything belonging to the Revolutionary\nperiod, has hitherto prevented a fair and full confession of the\nobligations referred to--has diminished the story, if not actually\nmisrepresented it. But it is a mistaken vanity, the very opposite\nof a manly pride. A sentiment of the illustrious Lafayette fits in\nhere. A citizen of both France and America, he stood between the\ntwo, and spoke happily for each, saying: \"Comme un Fran\u00e7ais, dont\nle c\u0153ur br\u00fble de patriotisme, je me r\u00e9jouis du r\u00f4le que la France a\njou\u00e9, et de l'alliance qu'elle a fait. Comme Americain, je reconnais\nl'obligation, et je crois qu'en cela consiste la vraie dignit\u00e9.\"\n\nThe severe truth of history and the constraints of true dignity alike\ncompel the statement, that but for the French interposition the\ncause of the American colonists was likely to be lost; at least,\nthat our independence would not have been obtained when it was, and\nas completely as it was, but for the succors of France. And this\nproposition, the writer thinks, may be made out from a summary view\nof the history of the period, yet calling attention to some facts\nthat do not appear hitherto to have been calculated.\n\nAccustomed as we are, in looking back upon the history of our\nRevolutionary struggle, to dwell upon its last signal triumphs, and\nnaturally disposed to measure the preceding events by the conclusion,\nit is difficult for us of this day to realize how narrowly it avoided\ndefeat, and in what extremity it at one time hesitated. In the winter\nof 1780, and at a time when the aid of France was most urgently\nimplored, the American cause was almost at its last gasp. Many of\nits leaders had secretly despaired of it, and found it difficult\nto impose upon the public the countenance of hope. In a private\nletter, Mr. Madison wrote: \"How a total dissolution of the army\ncan be prevented in the course of the winter\" [1780-1781] \"is, for\nany resources now in prospect, utterly inexplicable.\" There was no\nmoney to pay the troops; and the fact was that the war was no longer\nkept up but by ill-digested and dilatory expedients. Meanwhile, the\nfate of arms accumulated against the colonists, and the fortunes\nof the field were as bad as the embarrassments of the interior\nadministration. The more Southern States appeared to be already lost\nby the irruptions of the enemy upon an indefensible coast; and the\nwhole army of General Greene was soon to be in full retreat before\nLord Cornwallis through the State of North Carolina.\n\nThe two great wants of the colonists, and which had become vital,\nwere _money_ and a _fleet_. \"The sinews of war\" were nearly spent.\nThe paper money of Congress was fast becoming worthless; the resource\nto specific requisitions was a mere indirection as long as the states\nsupplied them by paper emissions of their own; and of this resource\nit was prophesied in Congress that \"what was intended for our relief\nwill only hasten our destruction.\"\n\nThe want of a counterpoise to the naval power of England was the\nmain point of the military situation. Here was a fatal weakness; and\nevents had progressed far enough to show that the hope of a decisive\nfield anywhere in the colonies depended upon their maintaining a\nnaval superiority in the American seas. In weighing the chances\nof the war, the configuration of the American territory is to be\nstudied; and how vulnerable it was from the water had already been\nproved by the events of the war. At the time of the Revolution,\nthe breadth of the American settlements from the Penobscot to\nthe Altamaha did not average more than a hundred miles from the\nsea-line. This jagged strip of territory, traversed by estuaries and\nnavigable streams, was so accessible to the enemy's vessels, that\nhis navy might be considered as constantly equivalent to a second\narmy operating on the flank of that engaged on shore. Wherever\nWashington might move, this apparition would cling to him--his flank\nconstantly threatened, and every movement he made on land compelled\nto calculate the possibility of a counter-movement by the English\nfleet that hovered on the coast, and might develop an attack with\ngreater expedition than he could change his front to meet it. It was\nthe thorn in his side. When the baffled American commander spoke of\nretiring into the mountains of Virginia for a last desperate stand,\nit was not a rhetorical flourish, as it has generally been accounted,\nbut a true military appreciation of the situation--the necessity of a\nbarrier against the naval power of the enemy. If that barrier could\nbe made on the water by the interposition of a fleet, then he would\nbe (what he had not hitherto been) free to operate on the land, and\nmake there a field that might be decisive. But the element of any\nsuch strategic combination was naval supremacy, and, until that was\nobtained, he could only hope at best for a desultory warfare, with\nconstant exposure to a risk that he could neither meet nor avoid.\n\nNow, the two vital wants of America--a foreign loan and a naval\narmament--were those which were precisely supplied by France. A\nforeign loan of specie, to the amount of twenty-five millions of\nlivres, was asked of his Most Christian Majesty; and Franklin,\nreinforced by Col. Laurens, was instructed to impress the French king\nand his ministers with the especial need of a demonstration against\nthe naval power of England. The succors were granted, and were beyond\nthe expectations of the colonists. In July, 1780, the first French\nexpedition, under the command of the Count Rochambeau, landed at\nNewport. And from that moment a new hope commenced for America, and\na new inspiration was to bring to sudden buoyancy a sinking cause.\nThe French force, however, was held inoperative for some time for\nthe want of a sufficient navy to co-operate; and to this end the\nsupplications of Congress to the French monarch had been redoubled.\nThe expedition of Rochambeau consisted of five thousand men. It was\nto be reinforced by a fleet from the West Indies; but the orders\nhad miscarried; and it was more than a year later when the second\ninstalment of French aid was made available, and the conditions\nrealized which fixed the last field of the war, and secured that\nfinal victory to which the French aids, by land and by water, were\neach indispensable. To this second aid reference will be made in its\norder.\n\nUsually, a foreign contingent is not the best of the military\nmaterial which a country may afford. The hireling and the adventurer\nenter largely into its composition, and its standard of service is\nlow and suspicious. But this common imputation could not be cast on\nthe expeditionary corps under Rochambeau. It was of the flower of\nthe French army, and nobility did not disdain the service of the\ninfant Republic. The illustrious Lafayette stood by himself, being a\nvolunteer, and independent of the action of the royal forces. \"The\nMarquis,\" as Washington never failed to punctiliously call him, won\nall hearts in America; and, though accused by Thomas Jefferson, who,\nhowever, was habitually envious, of having \"a canine thirst for\npopularity,\" there is good reason to believe that he was actuated\nby a solid attachment to liberty and inspired by generous motives.\nAnyhow, he was destined, as we shall see, to perform one of the\nmost brilliant and critical services of the Revolution. The Count\nRochambeau was never popular in America; his manners were haughty,\nand he had a military exclusiveness; but he was an excellent soldier,\nand at one time he gave a striking example of his deference to\nrepublican principles in submitting to be arrested, in a group of\nhis officers, at the hands of a petty county constable, on the\ncomplaint of a New England farmer for some acts of petty \"trespass\"\non his fields! In his command, landed at Newport, there were names\nalready illustrious in France, or destined to become so. Of such\nnames were the Chevalier de Chastellux, performing the duties of\nmajor-general in the expeditionary corps, an encyclop\u00e6dist and the\nfriend of Voltaire; Berthier, afterwards risen from the rank of an\nunder-officer to be a marshal of France and minister of war; the\nCount de S\u00e9gur, celebrated in literary as well as military life; the\nDuke de Lauzun, afterwards a general of the French Republic; the\nCount de Dillon, who, a few years later, met a tragic fate at the\nhands of the Revolutionary party in France; Pichegru, then a private\nin the ranks of the artillery; Matthieu Dumas, subsequently a peer of\nFrance; Aubert-Dubayet, afterwards minister of war under the French\nRepublic; the Prince de Broglie, afterwards field-marshal, and one of\nthe victims of the Revolutionary tribunal of 1794, etc.\n\nOf the character of the soldiers we have some pleasant and vivid\ncontemporary testimony. The idea which the sturdy American colonist,\nthe backwoodsman with his Tower musket, had formed in advance of\nthe French soldier, was not altogether a complimentary one. It\nwas generally a caricature, popular at that day, of a dapper,\nill-contrived individual who made ridiculous mistakes in the English\nlanguage, ate frogs, memorable in the lampoon of Hogarth as toasting\none of the amphibious at the end of a rapier, and had but the one\nvirtue to make amends for his eccentricities--a courage that was\nunquestionable, though grotesque and physically inefficient. The\npicture was dispelled at the sight of Rochambeau's veterans--men\nwho equalled in stature and in strength the best that England\ncould display, who were inured to hardship and fatigue such as\nwere scarcely supported by the green backwoodsman, and who marched\nhundreds of miles with an order and steadiness that never failed\nto be admirable. Mr. Madison, who saw these troops file through\nPhiladelphia, after the fatigues of a march from the banks of the\nHudson River, thus testifies his impressions of the spectacle:\n\"Nothing can exceed the appearance of this specimen which our ally\nhas sent us of his army, whether we regard the figure of the men or\nthe exactness of their discipline.\"\n\nSuch was the brilliancy and the solid worth of the first\ncontributions of France to her feeble ally. To estimate the motives\nand spirit of such aids, what influences ranged an old and brilliant\nmonarchy by the side of an infant Republic branded with \"rebellion,\"\nand intertwined flags so opposite, it will be well to review the\nrelations of the parties to an alliance so strange and exceptional.\n\nFrance had no interests to cultivate in America, no objects of\nambition to secure in a quarter of the world from which she had\ndeliberately withdrawn. Her flag had not appeared there since\nthe Treaty of Paris in 1756, and her subsequent cession to Spain\nof her possessions on the Mississippi left her, for the present,\ndisembarrassed of all territorial claims and interests in America.\nShe had no reason for any affection for the English colonists now\nasserting their independence; they were the sons of those who had\nfought against her; the traditions of the colonial wars in America\nwere yet fresh. On the side of the rebel colonists themselves, there\nwas a suspicion of France--at least, no disposition to expect any\ngenerosity from her in the struggle that was to ensue. So little was\nthat part expected which she did eventually take in the American\nRevolution, that Patrick Henry (incredible as the fact may appear\nto those who have read only eulogiums on this person) actually\nretreated at the last from the Declaration of Independence, from\nfear of France and her co-operation to subdue the colonies. In a\nletter to John Adams, written five days after the Virginia Convention\nhad adopted the famous resolution of the 15th May, 1776, for\nindependence, he dwells upon the apprehension that France might be\nseduced to take sides against the colonies by an offer from England\nto divide the territories of America between them. It was an unworthy\nsuspicion; but Mr. Henry, who had but little originality, and was a\ncharacteristic retailer of popular impressions, was probably in this\nimputation upon France the echo of a thought common at the time.\n\nNo grounds of sympathy were yet apparent between France and the\nstruggling colonists; nothing, as far as the men of 1776 should\nsee, but recollections of old animosity and present causes for\ndistrust. Even the sympathy of religion, which has proved such a\nfruitful source of international friendships and alliances, where\nthere have been no other points of coincidence, was wanting; instead\nof it, a sharp antagonism was the fact. Protestant America, many\nparts of it yet fresh with the persecution of Catholics, had no\nreason to expect favors from Catholic France. Indeed, when those\nfavors were given, there was some discontented and ungrateful outcry\nthat it was a design upon the religion of the colonists; so deeply\nsown was the distrust of France. There were those to object that\nCongress had attended a Mass, and that the municipal authorities\nof Boston had, on some occasion, walked in a Catholic procession.\nThe traitor, Benedict Arnold, in casting about for reasons to defend\nhis treason, could find none more plausible, or, in his estimation,\nmore likely to be received, than that the French alliance was about\nto betray the religion of the colonists, and that he, therefore,\nhad determined to take refuge in Protestant England! Such an appeal\nto popular prejudice was doubtless extravagant, even more so than\nthat of Patrick Henry accusing France; but both show the extent\nof estrangement and suspicion which France had to overcome before\nshe could convince America of her friendship and generosity. And,\nunfortunately, as we shall presently painfully see, such suspicion\nwas never entirely overcome, but was to remain to disfigure the last\npage of the history of the Revolution, and to attach to it a story of\npermanent disgrace to America.\n\nWhen the colonies implored the aid of France, through an address\nof Congress in November, 1780, the appeal showed an extremity and\ntemper of the colonists which suggested that almost any price would\nbe paid for the necessary succors. How far the French monarch might\nhave availed himself of the necessities of his suppliant ally, had\nhe been selfish enough to make these the measure of his demands, is\na conjecture almost illimitable. To purchase the aid of Spain, the\nAmerican Congress had been willing to retract former resolutions, and\nto offer the almost priceless boon of the exclusive navigation of the\nMississippi; and it was only the fatuity and blindness of that power\nthat had prevented the fatal concession. Was the aid of France worth\nless? and was the temper of concession not to be practised upon by\nherself?\n\nIt has been usual to give a very summary and cold explanation of the\naids which France furnished the American cause, by pointing out its\neffect to cripple her powerful and hereditary foe, England; thus\ndetracting from the generosity of the contribution, and representing\nit as a mere move on the diplomatic chess-board which the French\nmonarch could not do otherwise than make. But this detraction does\nnot hold good. Admitting the full force of the reasons which it\nimputes to France, there is much in her alliance with America that\nis yet left unexplained; and there are circumstances which make it\none of the most peculiar and unique examples of generosity recorded\nin history. It has not been unusual for powerful nations to assist\nthe weak on no other ground of sympathy than having a foe in common;\nbut it has seldom been the case that such aid has been rendered\nwithout the powerful ally exacting terms for her own contribution,\nand turning to her own advantage the necessities she has been called\nupon to aid. England herself had afforded a precedent for the price\nof such concessions. She had asked of the United Provinces, for the\nprice of her support against Spain, that all her expenses should\nbe repaid, and that the towns and fortresses of Holland should be\nheld by her as pledges for the conditions of the alliance. France\nwould have been sustained by historical example, and by moral right,\nin exacting very important concessions for her aid of the American\ncause in circumstances in which that aid was deemed vital for the\nsuccess of a struggle that already bordered on despair. She asked\nnothing. She gave an army and a fleet, and bore all the expenses of\nboth armaments. She advanced money and replenished the almost empty\ntreasury of her ally. And she yet enlarged the generosity of her\nalliance by devoting her arms, not only to a common operation, but\npledging at the outset the indispensable conclusion of her exertions\nin the independence of America and the territorial integrity of\nthe States. In the Treaty of 1778, \"the direct and essential end\"\nof the alliance was declared to be \"the liberty, sovereignty, and\nindependence, absolute and unlimited, of the United States.\"\n\nThe arms of France were thus given directly to a cause of republican\nliberty rather than merely involved in a diplomatic complication.\nWhat reasons could have induced this apparent excess of generosity,\nthis singular spectacle of the ancient monarchy of the Franks taking\nsides with the infant republic of the Anglo-Saxon colonists of\nAmerica?\n\nThe explanation is that the French aid was a contribution of the\n_people_ of France rather than that of its crown. It sprung out of\nthe popular heart rather than the grace of a kind and munificent\nmonarch; and it has this circumstance of a tender and imperishable\nsouvenir to the American people. It was a free love-offering, the\nfirst dedication of their cause in the sympathies of the world.\nThat republican sentiment which a few years later in France sprang\ninto such fierce life, was already deeply harbored in the hearts of\nher people; and the movement of the American colonists gave it an\nopportunity of comparatively safe expression; while all the romance\nof such a sentiment found abundant material in the circumstances\nof the struggle, the distance of the theatre, its scenery bordered\nby savage life, the novelty of a people whose history was entirely\nunique, and whose simplicity of manners suggested comparisons with\nclassical antiquity. The enthusiasm of the French mind seized every\nattractive circumstance of the occasion. It was entitled \"the\ncrusade of the eighteenth century.\" Again, it was adorned with\nrecollections more antique, and it was said that \"the Republic of\nPlato\" had at last found realization in the midst of a people whose\nexclusive situation had been a school for virtues hitherto unknown,\nand was to afford an experiment that had until then lingered in the\nspeculations of philosophy and the dreams of poetry. The simplicity\nof American manners was taken as a charming contrast to the court\nsplendors of Paris and Versailles. It was not only Franklin's cotton\nstockings, but every peculiarity of the American citizen became\na picturesque study and the symbol of a new political life. The\nmemoirs of the Count de S\u00e9gur are among the contemporary testimonies\nof the rage in the French capital for everything American; and we\nare specially told of \"cet air antique qui semblant transporter\ntout-a-coup dans nos murs, au milieu de la civilisation amollie\net servile au dix-huiti\u00e8me si\u00e8cle, quelques sages contemporans de\nPlaton, on des republicains du temps de Caton et de Fabius!\"\n\nOf the operations of the allied arms, our space only affords such\na sketch as may give some general idea of the extent and value of\nthe French aid. Washington had at first proposed, on the arrival of\nRochambeau, to attempt the repossession of New York City, and to\ncrush there the main body of the British army. But the failure to\narrive of the naval forces expected from Brest and the West Indies\ndisconcerted the plan; and events were preparing another theatre for\nthe final catastrophe. The British post and army in Virginia became\nthe objective point of the allied arms. The long-expected French\nfleet was at last assured; it was to make its appearance in the\nChesapeake; and Washington prepared to move his army from the banks\nof the Hudson to the distant scene of co-operation. From a temporary\nobservatory on the heights near Newburg, the anxious commander\nwatched his army crossing the blue stream; and as he mounted his\nhorse, to put himself at the head of a march that was to toil over\nmany hundreds of miles to find a last and effulgent field, far away\nin Virginia, he wrung the hand of a French officer who stood in the\ngroup around him, as expressing the new hope that had dawned in his\nface, and repledging the alliance that was to win its realization.\nAnd now ensued a combination of circumstances, in each one of which\nthe French arms determined a crisis, and displayed a dramatic\nspectacle.\n\nLafayette, \"the boy\" in Cornwallis's estimation, \"the tutelary genius\nof American independence,\" as he has been designated by a Virginian\nhistorian and statesman (William C. Rives), was sent forward to\nVirginia, to hold in check there the haughty enemy. Washington had\ngiven to this young Frenchman supreme command of the operations in\nVirginia. He justified a trust which the pride of the state might\npossibly resent, in his own estimate of the qualities of the noble\nforeigner. In a private letter to a Congressman of Virginia (Jones)\nhe wrote: \"The Marquis possesses uncommon military talents; is of\na quick and sound judgment; persevering and enterprising without\nrashness; and, besides these, he is of a very conciliating temper,\nand perfectly sober--which are qualities that rarely combine in\nthe same person. And were I to add that some men will gain as much\nexperience in the course of three or four years as some others will\nin ten or a dozen, you cannot deny the fact, and attack me upon that\nground.\" Lafayette was elevated over the heads of both General Wayne\nand the Baron de Steuben.\n\nWhen the Frenchman came to the defence of Virginia, she was well-nigh\nconquered. She was open in every direction to the enterprise of\nthe invader. Her public men were recreant, and under the suspicion\nof cowardice. One of her most faithful censors has recorded the\ndelinquency of the times. In a letter dated the 6th November, 1780,\nJudge Pendleton wrote: \"We had no House of Delegates on Saturday\nlast, which, with our empty treasury, are circumstances unfavorable\nat this juncture. Mr. Henry has resigned his seat in Congress; and\nI hear Mr. Jones intends it. It is also said the governor intends\nto resign. It is a little cowardly to quit our posts in a bustling\ntime.\" The city of Richmond, for which was to be reserved in history\nstains beyond any other American city, was ready to submit tamely\nto another occupation. The fact is, painful as the confession may\nbe to the Virginian of to-day--offending the pride of a state that\nhas almost invidiously claimed her part in the Revolution--Virginia\nhad grown reluctant in the war, and disposed to have recourse to\nunworthy expedients. She had been prominent in Congress to recommend\nthe surrender of the navigation of the Mississippi in order to buy\nthe alliance of Spain. She had twice proposed a dictatorship; and\nnow, when Cornwallis was advancing, and Mr. Jefferson was resigning\nthe governorship, and suspicion, as we have seen, had fallen on other\nleaders in the \"bustling times,\" no less a person than Richard Henry\nLee, then in retirement at Westmoreland, was willing to surrender the\nliberties of Virginia to a dictator as the only resource of safety!\nNow, the state had nothing between her and the public enemy than the\ntwelve hundred bayonets of Lafayette. The address and skill of the\nyoung Frenchman saved the Old Dominion from a subjection that would,\notherwise, have been complete, as far as the swift arms of Cornwallis\ncould have overrun the state.\n\nLafayette had retired to the Rapidan as the imposing and triumphant\narmy of Cornwallis advanced on Richmond. Here, joined by the\nPennsylvania troops under General Wayne and a body of riflemen from\nthe western part of Virginia, he was able to retrace his steps, and\nto press Cornwallis's retreat towards the Chesapeake. Extricating\nhimself from an unequal engagement at Jamestown, he moved up the\nriver, and reposed at Malvern Hill--since celebrated as a refuge in\na greater contest of arms. Subsequently, at Williamsburg, he was\njoined by the allied forces under Washington and Rochambeau--and then\ncommenced the combination that was to compass Cornwallis, and to\nconstitute the last splendid scene of the war.\n\nIt was a broad scene. On the 30th of August, 1781, twenty-eight\nline-of-battle ships, bearing the flag of France, rode on the\nbeautiful expanse of the Chesapeake. They had come from the West\nIndies. Eight other ships suddenly appeared from the opposite point\nof the compass: the French squadron from Rhode Island, which had\nentered the Chesapeake, in spite of the efforts of the English\nadmirals to intercept it. The _Ville de Paris_, the flag-ship of\nthe French admiral, had held in council the great actors of the\ndrama--Washington, Rochambeau, and the Count de Grasse; and it only\nremained to draw the lines, by sea and land, around the despairing\nenemy. The splendid fleet of France was the barrier between\nCornwallis and the succors that Sir Henry Clinton had promised from\nNew York. It was the element of victory--the apparition of a new\nhope risen from the seas. On the other wing of the scene floated the\nflags of Washington and Rochambeau. On the land were the splendid\narmies of France side by side with the militia of the young republic,\nand almost as numerous as the soldiers, a vast concourse of country\npeople, watching the sublime wonders of a bombardment that laced the\nnight skies, and enchanted by the music of the French timbrel, an\ninstrument then unknown in America. Three French commands, those of\nthe Count Rochambeau, the Marquis de Lafayette, and the Marquis de\nSaint-Simon, stood on the field of Yorktown.\n\nIn this circle, made possible only by the links of the French aid,\nwent down the flag of Cornwallis and the hopes of England. It\nwas a memorable scene, and one which brought into strong relief\nthe assistance of our ally. In a letter to General Washington\nfrom Mr. Jefferson, who had just retired from the gubernatorial\nchair of Virginia, the distinguished patriot, after offering his\ncongratulations, justly wrote: \"If in the minds of any, the motives\nof gratitude to our good allies were not sufficiently apparent, the\npart they have borne in this action must amply evince them.\" At the\nheight of its emotions of joy and gratitude, Congress promised a\nmonument for the scene. It was resolved that it would \"cause to be\nerected at York, in Virginia, a marble column, adorned with emblems\nof the alliance between the United States and his Most Christian\nMajesty, and inscribed with a succinct narrative.\" The pledge to this\nday remains unfulfilled; and no monument testifies our early and\nimperishable obligations to France, except such as may yet exist in\nthe hearts of our people.\n\nHere, with the illumination of Yorktown, we would willingly conclude\nthe history of the Franco-American alliance. But there is a sequel\nnot to be omitted--a painful story that belongs yet to the justice of\nhistory.\n\nIn the negotiations for peace that followed Yorktown, the American\nCongress, new and timorous in diplomacy, betook itself to a refuge,\nthe shallowness of which is especially conspicuous in diplomacy--that\nof supposing wisdom in a multitude of counsellors. It constituted\nno less than five commissioners to treat at Paris. The selections\nwere ill; and in some instances the worst that could have been made.\nOf the five, Mr. Jefferson did not attend. Mr. Adams was personally\ndistasteful to the French government. How far Mr. Henry Laurens might\nbe suspected of undue deference to England might have been judged\nfrom his famous Tower letter, the cringing humiliations of which had\nopened the doors of his prison; and it is said that when this letter\nwas divulged to Congress it would have recalled his commission,\nhad there not been doubts of the authenticity of the document,\nso extraordinary was its tone. But it is justice to add that the\nsubsequent conduct of Mr. Laurens repelled the charge of partiality\nfor England; however, the French Government may have had reason to be\ndispleased at his antecedents. Mr. Jay was of a suspicious temper,\nan intrigant rather than a diplomatist; illustrating precisely\nthat lowest notion of diplomacy, that it is essentially a game of\ndeceptions--a part that can be performed only with a false face.\nHappily, the world has outlived this degrading idea of a really\naugust office, and has come to question why deception should be\nconsidered more necessary in diplomacy than in any other branch of\npublic service. Indeed, there is room in diplomacy for the exercise\nof the highest abilities, an arena for the busiest and most exacting\ncompetitions of intellectual skill, without calling into requisition\nthe weapons of chicanery and fraud. There is no political service\nthat more strongly than the office of the diplomatist tests that\nsum of powers which the world calls _character_: the clear, strong\npurpose, with its quick and happy selection of opportunities, the\ninstinct, the tact, and the decisiveness which hold the secret of\nwhat is _greatness_ in history, rather than any amount of learned\naccomplishments or any training of the intellectual closet. The\ndiplomatist must be quick, yet strong and unremitting; he must have\nunbounded confidence in himself, without the weakness of vanity; he\nmust be patient, yet not dilatory; thoroughly imbued with the true\nspirit of the French proverb, that \"he who learns to wait is master\nof his fortune.\" He must have the faculty of putting things in the\nstrongest possible light--that best and rarest of rhetorical talents,\nthe power of _statement_. He must have a nice sense of opportunities;\nthe delicate touch with the iron will; he must practise what Byron\nnumbered among the cardinal virtues, \"tact\"; of all men he must wear\nthat excellent motto, _suaviter in modo, fortiter in re_. Here,\nsurely, is a theatre for many virtues and abilities, without calling\nto aid the mask and sinister weapons of professional deceit. The\ngreatest diplomatist of modern times, the unequalled Bismarck, is\nsaid to be remarkable for the bluntness and directness that have\novercome by the very surprises of openness the chicanery of his\nopponents. The robustness of his dealings with the finesse of the\nold traditional school of European diplomacy reminds one of the duel\nin \"Peter Simple.\" A sturdy Englishman engages a master of fence,\nand while the latter practises the most scientific attitude and has\nhis rapier poised according to the figures of the science, he is\ninfinitely surprised to have it seized in mid-air by the naked hand\nof his antagonist, and himself run through the body. Not _secundum\nartum_, but a most efficient way of concluding the combat. Of the\nopen and best school of diplomacy, Franklin at the French court was\na fair representative, the very opposite of Jay. The philosopher of\nPennsylvania has never been justly measured as a diplomatist; he had\nbeen successful beyond all other American envoys; he was now the\nBismarck of the diplomatic collection at Paris, although he unhappily\ngave way to the leadership of Jay.\n\nIn the negotiations for peace that ensued, Mr. Jay, leading more\nor less willingly the other commissioners, was soon over head and\nears in an intrigue with the English ministry; acting on that\nlowest supposition of tyroism in diplomacy--that the other party\nmust necessarily design a fraud, and that a counter-fraud must be\nprepared to meet it. Congress had instructed that there should be\nmade \"the most candid and confidential communications upon all\nsubjects to the ministers of our generous ally, the King of France\";\nand it took occasion to give a remarkable expression of gratitude to\nFrance, its resolutions declaring \"how much we rely on his majesty's\ninfluence for effectual support in everything that may be necessary\nto the present security or future prosperity of the United States\nof America.\" Mr. Jay, who had taken the lead in the negotiations,\nwillingly followed by Adams, \"dragging in Franklin,\" and resisted\nto some extent by Laurens proceeded deliberately to violate these\ninstructions. He had conceived the suspicion that France was secretly\nhostile to an early acknowledgment of the independence of America,\nand wished to postpone it until she had extorted objects of her own\nfrom the dependence of her ally. It is now known that this suspicion\nwas wholly imaginary. But Mr. Jay and his colleagues acted upon it,\nand were twisted around the fingers of the English ministry to the\nextent of treating with them, without giving the French government\nknowledge of the steps and progress of the negotiation, thus\ncontributing to the adroit purpose of England to sow distrust in\nthe alliance that had humbled her. While the American commissioners\nwere professing to the French minister that negotiations were yet\nat a distance, they had actually signed the provisional articles\nof a treaty of peace with the crown of Great Britain. Worse than\nthis, they had agreed to a _secret_ article, which stipulated a\nmore favorable northern boundary for Florida, in the event of its\nconquest by the arms of Great Britain, than if it should remain in\nthe possession of Spain at the termination of the war. Spain was at\nthat time an ally of France; and so it may be imagined how the latter\nwould be embarrassed by this secret article, and how England might\nmeditate in it an advantage in disturbing the understanding of France\nand America.\n\nMr. Jay, unconscious that he had been made a catspaw of British\ndiplomacy, felicitated himself that he had made an excellent bargain\nand done an acute thing; possessed as he was with that fatuity of all\ndeceivers, that omits to calculate the time when the deception must\nnecessarily become known. When the game that had been played upon\nits ally became known to Congress, it plunged that body into the most\npainful embarrassment. Mr. Madison, in his diary of the proceedings\nof Congress, thus records its impressions: \"The separate and secret\nmanner in which our ministers had proceeded with respect to France,\nand the confidential manner with respect to the British ministers,\naffected different members of Congress differently. Many of the\nmost judicious members thought they had all been in some measure\nensnared by the dexterity of the British minister, and particularly\ndisapproved of the conduct of Mr. Jay in submitting to the enemy his\njealousy of the French, without even the knowledge of Dr. Franklin,\nand of the unguarded manner in which he, Mr. Adams, and Dr. Franklin\nhad given, in writing, sentiments unfriendly to our ally, and serving\nas weapons for the insidious policy of the enemy. The separate\narticle was most offensive, being considered as obtained by Great\nBritain, not for the sake of the territory ceded to her, but as a\nmeans of disuniting the United States and France, as inconsistent\nwith the spirit of the alliance, and as a dishonorable departure from\nthe candor, rectitude, and plain dealing professed by Congress.\"\n\nCongress did not extricate itself from the dilemma; it could not\ndo it. Suppression of what had been done could not be continued;\nstill less was it possible to make explanations to France; the only\nthing to do was to say nothing, and to let the painful exposure work\nitself out. The King of France had acted with an openness and an\nattention to his allies, the contrasts of which made the exposure one\nof great bitterness and shame. The Count de Vergennes had assured\nthe American commissioners: \"The king has been resolved that all his\nallies should be satisfied, being determined to continue the war,\nwhatever advantages may be offered to him, if England is disposed to\nwrong any of them.\" Now, when the articles were brought into council\nto be signed, the French monarch could not be other than surprised\nand indignant. He put royal restraint upon his speech; but he could\nnot forbear saying, with a bluntness that must have bruised American\npride, and staggered the self-felicitations of Mr. Jay, that \"he did\nnot think he had such allies to deal with.\"\n\nThe court of France sustained the insult with dignity, and yet with\nevidence of a deep sense of wrong. When inquiry was made whether\nexpostulations would be made to the American Congress, the reply\nof M. Marbois was heroic: \"A great nation,\" he answered, \"does not\ncomplain; but it feels and remembers.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN GENEVA.\n\n\nI.\n\nIn order to understand the events which have lately taken place in\nGeneva, and those that are preparing there, it is necessary to cast\na general glance over the past and present state of the Catholic\nreligion in that little commonwealth.\n\nMost people know what Geneva was prior to the French Revolution:\nan independent state, separate from the Swiss Cantons, reduced by\nCalvinism to an aristocratic theocracy, and shorn of those ancient\ndemocratic franchises which it had enjoyed before breaking away from\nRome. The dominant principle in its customs and legislation was fear\nand hatred of the proscribed worship. A minute and jealous care was\ntaken to repress the expansion of Catholicism--one exhibition of\nwhich was seen in the strict closing of the city gates on the grand\nfestivals of the church, and the fine of ten crowns imposed on those\nwho held intercourse with the Bishop of Annecy on the occasion of\nhis pastoral visits. Under these circumstances, only a small number\nof Catholics clung with heroic constancy to the ancient faith, and\nsecretly practised their religious duties in the recesses of their\nhouses. There were in 1759 but two hundred and twenty-seven Catholics\nin Geneva--and in this number even Voltaire and his hangers-on were\nincluded.\n\nIt was the French Revolution that forced open the gates, up to that\nperiod so carefully closed, of this Protestant Rome. Geneva became\nunder the Empire a French department, and the Catholic religion in\nthe persons of the imperial functionaries was officially recognized.\nPermission to erect a church was granted; but this first move\ntoward a less hostile attitude was not taken without the bitterest\nopposition from the old Protestant party. In the remodelling of\nEurope, after Napoleon's downfall, it was found desirable to\nprovide against the absorption of Geneva by uniting it to the\nSwiss Confederation; but in order to overcome the difficulties of\ngeographical position, and make such an acquisition of territory\nacceptable to Berne, it became necessary to join to Geneva certain\nstrips of land from the Catholic districts of Gex and Savoy. The\nGenevans, who looked with dread upon this annexation, strove to\nassure in any case their own supremacy, but the Catholics found\ndefenders in diplomatic circles, and their cause was protected by the\nseveral treaties of Paris, Vienna, and Turin (1814-1816). In virtue\nof these, all civil and political rights were guaranteed to the new\ncitizens, the Catholic religion was recognized, its exercise in\nGeneva permitted, religious freedom solemnly pledged to the annexed\npopulations, and the expenses of their public worship assumed by the\nstate.\n\nAt this period the Catholics were not over a third of the whole\ncanton; but they rapidly increased, less, indeed, through conversions\nthan by immigration. In 1834, there were 25,000 Protestants and\n18,000 Catholics. What was the attitude of the Genevan government\nthen? Power was still in the hands of the old Protestant\naristocracy--the strongest and only organized party, and a singular\nadmixture of good qualities and defects. The patrician of Geneva\nwas, indeed, a strange and now fast-disappearing type. Living in\nhis old town surrounded by ramparts, and in his old society even\nmore stringently closed, clad in sombre colors, speaking little and\nlaughing less, vain, stiff in his manners, with a stony cast of\ncountenance, he was devoid of generous sympathy and largeness of\nheart, without, however, being altogether incapable of a certain\npecuniary liberality; benign to his clients, implacable to rivals,\nmarking out in everything a conventional line, and merciless to the\none who should cross it; a man of letters, but an enemy to literary\nliberty, the friend of order, respecting traditions, an ardent\npatriot, but of a narrow and exclusive patriotism, he was attached\nmore to his caste and party than to his country. Often sincerely\npious, this Genevan gentleman of the old school was sometimes a\nhypocrite and Pharisee; a formalist himself, he was quick to cast the\nfirst stone at the transgressors of the law. But what was strongest\nin this class of men was the Protestant sentiment in its most odious\nand intolerant shape. Having seen with displeasure the annexation of\nthe Catholic districts, and agreed very unwillingly to the religious\nliberty insured by treaty, this party found it hard to extinguish\nits traditional spirit of bigotry. Every movement of vitality on the\npart of Catholics excited distrust, and looked like a revolt; and\nproceeding to open acts, it struck successively at the liberty of\ninstruction, the freedom of the pulpit, and the right of endowment.\nThe attempt to enforce civil marriage failed only when Sardinia\nthreatened to intervene. Catholics were eyed with disfavor, and of\nthe thousand servants of the government, only fifty-nine belonged\nto their creed. Finally, if Protestants were obliged to endure the\nofficial existence of the Roman Church, it seemed to them quite\nproper to try and make it a state affair. They obtained from the Pope\nin 1819 the transfer of jurisdiction over Geneva from the Archbishop\nof Chamb\u00e9ry to the Bishop of Lausanne--their secret object being to\nsubject the Catholic clergy to the direct influence of government,\nthrough the dependence on the state to which the bishops of\nSwitzerland had long been accustomed, and in particular by using the\nconciliatory and somewhat weak character of Monseigneur de Lausanne.\n\nIn fact, an agreement was drawn up with the bishop, by which the\ncivil power was permitted to interfere in the nomination of pastors,\nexact from them an oath, publish and circulate episcopal charges.\nSoon after, a law made the _placet_ obligatory for all documents\nemanating from the diocesan or papal authorities. A few official\nhonors and some pecuniary advantages were the only compensation made\nto Catholics for the prejudice done their liberty. These, however,\nstruggled perseveringly against all exertions to enthrall them,\nand continued in spite of every difficulty to increase and gain\nstrength. This success they owed chiefly to their courageous pastor,\nthe Abb\u00e9 Vuarin, \"an admirable man for a conflict,\" as his friend\nLamennais used to say of him: one whose indefatigable industry,\nfearlessness, and devotion to duty made every sacrifice light. He\ntravelled Europe in the interests of his flock, and Turin, Berne,\nParis, Munich, Rome, heard him defend their cause. He had friends in\nall places, and corresponded with popes, kings, and the great men\nof his day; and, during the continual hostilities which he carried\non against Protestants, wrote some severe things, for the most part\nanonymously, but other times under his own name, wherein the only\nsubject of regret is too great fieriness and irony. He used to watch\nthe ballot-boxes while reciting his breviary, which drew from M. de\nMaistre the remark, \"When I see his way of working, it recalls the\nsuccess of the apostles.\" M. Vuarin had said, \"A priest who is named\npastor at Geneva should go, should remain, and should end there\";\nand, true to his own word, he died there, parish priest, in 1843,\nhaving been appointed under the Empire. Before his time, it was only\nnow and then that a cassock ventured to appear in Geneva: at his\nfuneral, two bishops, two hundred priests, and thousands of Catholic\nlaymen defiled through the streets of the old Protestant city.\n\nIt turned out, however, that Catholic progress only irritated the\nintolerant spirit of opposition, and at the centennial jubilee of\nthe Reformation, in 1835, the inflamed passions of the multitude\nbroke out in insults and deeds of violence against the faith of the\nminority. The Protestant Union, a sort of secret society, was formed\nto sustain and encourage exclusivism and anti-Catholic feelings; and\nwhen a collective address, signed by the clergy of Geneva, denounced\nthe movement to the bishop, the council of state, in retaliation,\nrefused to admit the nomination of any priest who should not have\nexpressed regret for appending his name to the paper. At M. Vuarin's\ndeath, Geneva was for several years deprived of the ministrations\nof his successor, M. Marilley, who had been arrested by the public\nofficers and conducted to the frontier. Such, in 1846, was the\nposition of the church: misunderstood in her spirit, the full\nmeasure of her rights withheld, strong only in the energy of her\ndefenders. Then a political change took place, which considerably\nmodified the situation.\n\nIn the plain on the other side of the Rhone, facing the steep hill\nwhereon are the dwellings of the Genevan aristocracy, along which\nare drawn out the narrow streets of the old town, and on the summit\nof which rise the city hall and St. Peter's church--that Acropolis\nof Calvinism--extends the democratic and laboring suburb of _Saint\nGervais_. Here for several years a work had been going on whose\ngravity the ruling class of Geneva did not comprehend. A radical\nand demagogical party, intimately connected with the revolutionists\nof other countries, was being organized. Its newspapers, pamphlets,\nand the affair of \"Young Italy\" in 1836 revealed its boldness and\nvigorous action. On the occasion of the Sonderbund disturbances\nin 1846, the radicals got excited, the Faubourg St. Gervais rose\nin tumult, and after a sanguinary struggle the conservatives were\nput down, the old town was occupied by the victorious workmen,\nand the power of the state passed into the hands of the leaders\nof the insurrection--M. Fazy and his friends. The extinction of\nthe ancient oligarchy was known to be their object. Catholics had\nkept aloof from this conflict, feeling little sympathy with the\nrevolutionary passions of the radicals, whose pretext, moreover, for\nrising had been the aid extended by the Genevan government to their\nco-religionists of the Sonderbund. But when once in power, the new\nparty, more astute than its predecessor, understood the importance of\nthe Catholic element when it came to a question of votes.\n\nM. Fazy, although ultra in politics, had no religious prejudices,\nand, neither Catholic nor Protestant, all he cared for was to bring\nabout the ruin of the Calvinist aristocracy. In so much (as the\nBishop of Lausanne observed in 1849), he was acting to the advantage\nof Catholics. After the radicals had destroyed the ramparts of the\nold town, Geneva began rapidly to change appearance: entirely new\nquarters were soon laid out, strangers came in large numbers, and the\nCatholic population visibly increased with the immigration. In 1850,\nthe canton counted 34,212 Protestants and 29,764 Catholics; ten years\nlater, the figures stood 42,099 of the latter to 40,069 of the former.\n\nThe radicals had the good sense also to respect the liberty of\nCatholics; they gave them ground to build another church on, and in\nthe central part of the new districts, hard by the railway-station, a\nGothic edifice, which people used to call the cathedral-citadel--the\ntemple of liberty--was erected. Thus little by little the two classes\nwere drawn together, despite so many profound differences. The\nconservatives themselves contributed to this, for the concessions\nto Catholics were their chief point of opposition; and in the next\nelectoral campaign they took for rallying-cry, \"Fazy sold to the\npapists.\" Thereupon it became a necessity, if Catholics would keep\ntheir rights, to vote with the radicals; they did so in 1855, and\nthe conservatives were utterly defeated. Things remained in this\nstate until 1860, the government continuing to respect Catholic\nliberty; the bishop also was allowed to return to Geneva, and Fazy\nably defended him against the narrow prejudices of a few friends.\nWhen the church of Our Lady was finished, the consecration sermon\nwas preached by the eloquent mouth of the man who to-day exercises\nover the faithful of Geneva, although with different qualities, the\ninfluence that M. Vuarin once had. This was the Abb\u00e9 Mermillod.\nUntrammelled by attachments either to person or party, clever, firm,\nyet pacific, uniting to the authority of virtue all the charms of\ntalent and character, his liberal ideas no one could gainsay, and his\ndevotion to the church the Holy Father has on more than one occasion\npublicly recognized. Nevertheless, if the rule of the radicals was\nin some respects profitable to Catholics, it was baneful to them\non more than one account. The sources of moral and intellectual\ncorruption were multiplied in the canton; freemasonry received the\nsame concessions as religion; the professorships in the academy were\nbestowed upon the enemies of every form of Christianity; and all the\nwhile an active proselytism was spreading immoral sentiments and\ninfidelity among the people. In this state of affairs, the opposition\ndaily waxed stronger, and after fifteen years of administration, the\nradicals were defeated (1861) by the conservatives, rejuvenated and\ntransformed into an independent party.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe party that now came in was no longer the same old purely\naristocratic one of former times; it had allies among the democrats.\nA popular society, known as The String, established in the very\ncentre of the working Quartier de Saint Gervais, furnished it with\nbrawny arms and clubs to repel at the polls the violence which the\nradicals had initiated. From 1861 to 1864, the independents gained\nground rapidly, and the bloody riots that disturbed Geneva in the\nlast-named year only served to assure their success. It may be\nasked, What did the Catholics do during this political change? They\ncould not aspire to rule: they were forced to choose between the\nProtestant haters of their faith and the radical indifferentists who\ntreated all religions alike--one might say with equal contempt--but\nwhich had at least the merit of respecting liberty of conscience.\nA handful of Catholics, disgusted with the subversive doctrines of\nthe radicals, sought alliance with the independents; but the mass\nremained liege to their first protectors. Some of the leaders, too,\nof that party belonged to Catholic families, and were, nominally,\nCatholics themselves; whereas all the chief men of the independents\nwere Protestants.\n\nAt this period, a great event in the Catholic life of Geneva took\nplace. Pius IX. in 1864 raised the Abb\u00e9 Mermillod to the episcopal\ndignity; only by a prudent reserve he did not immediately confer upon\nhim the title of bishop of that city, but of Hebron _in partibus\ninfidelium_. In order not to encounter too many obstacles at the\noutset, the authorities of the canton were not officially notified\nof the fact, which was brought to their knowledge indirectly. The\nindependents affected to ignore the new arrangement, and consider\nMgr. Mermillod as only the vicar-general of Bishop Marilley. Whenever\nhe spoke as a prelate, they showed themselves surprised and angry.\nThe radicals, on their part, saw the establishment of an episcopal\nsee with the same unconcern as they had witnessed the erection of the\ncathedral. And yet a few were provoked; they were principally leaders\nfrom the Catholic ranks, who foresaw the blow their influence would\nreceive from such a quarter. On the other hand, Mgr. Mermillod's\nEuropean reputation flattered the self-love of the Genevans, thus\nlessening political and religious repugnances; while his amenity,\nconciliatory spirit, the irresistible seduction of his ways, his\npolitical prudence, which caused him to avoid the entanglements of\nparty strife, helped to surmount many obstacles.\n\nA question of great importance to Catholics soon came up. In 1815,\nwhen parts of Savoy and the Pays-de-Gex were annexed, although the\nreligious liberty of the new-comers had been diplomatically secured,\nGeneva reserved to her own sons, under the modest designation \"rights\nof property, burghership, and district residence,\" the enjoyment\nof considerable wealth coming from old foundations, and destined\nparticularly for hospitals and other charitable institutions. The\nnew-comers had no share in the distribution of these funds: hence\narose the distinction in the community of _elder_ and _younger_\nbrothers. About the year 1866, a motion was put forward to abolish\nthis privilege of the ancient citizens, and to induce the new ones to\nrenounce the treaty stipulations in their favor and come under the\ncommon law. The project fell through at the time, but was finally\nadopted in 1868. The Catholics took a liberal and generous stand.\nThey might regret the international engagements to respect their\nreligious liberty; they could loudly complain that by a provision of\nthe bill the independents endowed the Protestant Church with a part\nof this appropriation, consequently securing it against loss in the\nevent of a separation between church and state, whereas nothing was\nset apart to defray the expenses of Catholic worship; nevertheless,\nthe great majority voted to let it pass. God grant that they may not\nhave been deceived! If they had been organized into a political\nparty, they could and they should have had inserted some similar\nallowance in their favor. For all this, the Catholics, while they\ncontinued to make rapid progress, assumed an attitude of moderation\nand straightforward liberality. Mgr. Mermillod openly declared, \"The\nCatholics have not the preponderance, or the means of obtaining it;\nthey do not think of it, they cannot have it, they do not desire it.\nThey have no privileges to petition for, but all more than ever must\nlove our native Switzerland, which turns now her eyes upon us, and\nmust cling to our institutions and to that liberty which they secure\nus.\" The bishop's adversaries could not find fault with him, and the\n_Revue des Deux Mondes_ was obliged, however unwillingly and tardily,\nto acknowledge his liberal tone. And yet this attitude of Catholics\nand their progress only excited greater distrust and hatred. The\nsociety of The String raised in its manifestoes the phantom of\nultramontanism, the press insulted them, and they were threatened\nin their rights of association, of burial, of instruction, and of\npreaching. It is principally at Carouge that they have had to suffer.\nThis place is under the influence of certain so-called Catholic\nradicals, who in truth are more anti-Catholic than the Protestants\nthemselves. When these people attack the church, the independents\nsupport them; sometimes, however, the latter have known how to\nmaintain an at least apparent neutrality.\n\nIt is chiefly in view of the eventual re-establishment of the\nbishopric of Geneva that anti-Catholic prejudices are manifested.\nThe Protestants understand that _Hebron_ is only a first step, and\nthey recoil at the idea of having at Geneva itself a Bishop of\nGeneva. Several times already the question has been discussed in the\ncouncil of state, and the opponents of the church seek in Gallican\nand _Josephine_ traditions, in the text of treaties, everywhere, for\nreasons to deny to Catholics the right of having a bishop. Common\nsense, equity, treaties, all is against them, but prejudice prevails.\nThe Catholics on their side are determined that they shall have their\nown bishop, and this to-day is the great dispute between them and the\nProtestants. Mgr. Mermillod acts in all these troubles more like an\napostle than a politician. He is right. He believes in his mission;\nand, without being able exactly to point out the course which\nProvidence will keep, he is convinced that the church will prosper in\nGeneva. May his hope be realized! At any rate, the Genevan Catholics\nare fortunate to have such a bishop. To conclude, their present\nsituation is a critical one. It is fraught with dangers and yet full\nof hope.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n    PATRON SAINTS. By Eliza Allen Starr. Baltimore: John\n    Murphy & Co. New York: The Catholic Publication\n    Society. 1871.\n\nThis is an uncommonly interesting and readable book. Lives of saints,\nespecially of such as those who form its subject, ought, of course,\nalways to be interesting to Catholics, and even to others; but,\nunfortunately, the abundance of facts which are often put in a small\nspace, and the dry and sometimes unsystematic way in which they are\npresented, make them usually, perhaps, unattractive to any except\nthose who wish to make what is called spiritual reading, and put\nthem, if not entirely beyond the reach of children, at least much\nless useful to them than they might be made, and than they have been\nmade in the present work. The aim of the author has been to bring out\nthe lives of the servants of God in their true light, as something\nmore wonderful than any fairy tales or fictions, as, indeed, they\nare; to satisfy the natural desire of the young for the marvellous\nwith what is not only wonderful but admirable, and to supply the\nplace of fiction--to some extent, at least--with truth. And in order\nthat they may answer this end, they are told in an attractive and\nconversational way, with occasional digressions and episodes, and\nthe style is such that, instead of searching about for the most\ninteresting of the lives to begin with, one begins at once wherever\nhe may happen to open, and keeps on till it is more than time to\nleave off. For, though these sketches seem to have been intended\nprincipally for children and young people, there can be no one who\nwill not be pleased with them or who is too far advanced and well\ninformed to profit by them. There are twelve illustrations. The book\nis well printed and elegantly bound.\n\n\n    NEVER FORGOTTEN; OR, THE HOME OF THE LOST CHILD. By\n    Cecilia Mary Caddell. London: Burns, Oates & Co. 1871.\n    For sale by The Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren\n    Street, New York.\n\nDetails of the self-denying lives of those who devote themselves to\nworks of charity, under the rules of a religious order, are always\ninteresting to the earnest Catholic. In this attractive volume, we\nhave a touching record of the devoted lives of the Sisters of the\nGood Shepherd, woven with the story of one who came to them dead\nin sin, but was brought to life, faith, and peace, by the blessing\nof God on their unfailing efforts. There is no charity that calls\nmore urgently in these times for the countenance and help of pious\nsouls living in the world than this twofold task undertaken by these\ngood sisters--the raising of fallen women to lives of purity, and\nproviding a place of refuge from temptation for destitute young\ngirls. All other efforts to reform abandoned women seem to bring\nforth but little fruit, while the nuns of the \"Good Shepherd,\" both\nin this country and abroad, have been instrumental in rescuing a vast\nnumber from lives of infamy, and bringing them to true penance. This\nvolume is interesting and instructive, and cannot fail to impress the\nreader with its truthfulness. May our dear Lord, through its pages,\nexcite in many souls asking for work in his vineyard, the desire to\nassist in bringing back these lost sheep to his fold!\n\n\n    THE CATECHISM ILLUSTRATED BY PASSAGES FROM THE HOLY\n    SCRIPTURES. Compiled by the Rev. John B. Bagshawe,\n    Missionary Rector of St. Elizabeth's, Richmond,\n    England. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1871.\n\n\"This compilation is intended,\" says the author, in his preface,\n\"to assist our children in acquiring a better knowledge of Holy\nScripture.\" But it will also prove useful and suggestive to those who\nhave to teach children, even should the latter not use it themselves.\nIts plan is very simple and good, the most appropriate passages of\nScripture being selected in illustration of the successive questions\nand answers of the catechism, and appended to them, the text being\nin one column and the illustrations in a parallel one. Such a plan\nis, of course, very difficult to carry out with perfect success,\nand the author does not claim to have always made absolutely the\nmost appropriate selection; but one would be very foolish not to\nduly appreciate what is good where perfection is evidently next to\nimpossible. An appendix is added, with references to the principal\ntexts quoted, which can be used independently.\n\n\n    THE HOLY EXERCISE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD. In three\n    parts. Translated from the French of T. F. Vaubert, of\n    the Society of Jesus. St. Louis: P. Fox, Publisher, No.\n    14 South Fifth Street. 1871. For sale by The Catholic\n    Publication Society, 9 Warren Street, New York.\n\nThis is a beautiful little book, and contains a great deal in a very\nsmall space. Its purpose is sufficiently explained by its title: to\nmake Christians practically familiar with, and constantly attentive\nto, the presence of God, surely one of the greatest of all means of\nsanctification, and one specially necessary in this age and country,\nin which there is such a tendency to distraction and useless\noccupation of mind. The translation is good, and the type clear.\n\n\n    A BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH\n    ON LONG ISLAND. By Patrick Mulrenan, Professor of\n    Rhetoric, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. New York: P.\n    O'Shea. 1871.\n\nTruly this is a world of disappointments. When this book, handsomely\nbound and printed in bold type on delicately tinted paper, was placed\nbefore us, and upon reading the numerous titles of honor which the\nauthor, with more frankness than modesty, had appended to his name,\nwe hastily came to the conclusion that the Catholic Church on Long\nIsland had at last found a worthy and erudite historian. Alas for the\nvanity of human hopes! Ere we had perused a dozen of its hundred and\nthirty pages, we discovered that the brilliant and costly setting,\nwhich we fondly hoped contained a literary gem beyond price, enclosed\nnothing but a paltry imitation in paste. Our chagrin was the greater\non account of the importance of the subject, affording, as it does,\nmany salient points of interest that deserve to be perpetuated in\nsomething like good language and in proper method; but candor compels\nus to say that this book seems more like a scrap-book, made up of\nslip-shod newspaper paragraphs unartistically retouched and strung\ntogether. And then the reckless scattering of polyglot adjectives,\nthe continuous recurrence of the same words and forms of expression,\nthe forgetfulness of facts within the knowledge of most of the school\nchildren of Brooklyn, and the inexcusable ignoring of the simplest\nrules of grammar, which characterize this production, are, we venture\nto affirm, unparalleled in the history of modern book-making. The\nlast chapter, however, surpasses all the others in verbosity. In\nthus coming before the public as the historian of the Catholics\nof Long Island, the author seems to have forgotten that the art of\nbook-writing can only be learned by years of patient study, and that\nthe high-sounding phrases which would do well enough for a class\nof young students are altogether out of place in the pages of a\nbook intended to be placed in the libraries of our most intelligent\ncitizens. Literary vanity is generally a harmless and sometimes an\namusing weakness, but, when gratified at the expense of serious\nsubjects, it deserves neither encouragement nor the charity of our\nsilence.\n\n\n    THE HISTORICAL READER. By John J. Anderson, A.M. 1 vol.\n    12mo, pp. 544. New York: Clark & Maynard. 1871.\n\nThis work, compiled for the use of schools, has many merits and some\ngrave defects. The task of culling from the best writers choice\npassages descriptive of striking historical incidents is one that\nrequires much judgment and experience for its proper performance;\nwhile the difficulty of avoiding even the appearance of national\nprejudice or religious bias is almost insurmountable. Most of us have\nour favorite authors, whose merits we are apt to exaggerate, and\nwhose peculiar views we too often accept without much investigation.\nProfessor Anderson is not free from this weakness, though, as a\nrule, his selections are made with discretion and fairness. Milton's\neulogy on Cromwell is one of the exceptions, for we hold it not\ngood that our children should be taught to reverence the memory of\nthat monstrosity whose hands were so repeatedly imbrued in innocent\nblood. Froude's \"Coronation of Anne Boleyn\" is another, for, as the\nreaders of The Catholic World well know, very little dependence can\nbe placed on the historical veracity of that gentleman. But the most\nserious mistake of the compiler lies in the fact that only American,\nEnglish, Scotch, and French history, with a few passages from ancient\nauthors, is presented; Ireland, Spain, Germany, and other European\ncountries being completely ignored. Taking into account the vast\nnumber of children Of German and Irish descent in our public and\nprivate schools, who ought, we think, to be taught something of the\nhistory of their ancestors, we should expect that at least one-half\nof this book would be devoted to extracts from the historians of\nthese races, whose writings are now as accessible to compilers of\nhistory as those of any other nationality. Of Spain, the discoverer\nand first colonizer of the New World, we have not a word; and Italy,\nthe birthplace of Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci, the\ncradle of modern art and poetry, is altogether overlooked. In this\nrespect, therefore, _The Historical Reader_ is sadly deficient in\nuniversality and completeness. The Vocabulary attached will be found\nuseful, and the Biographical Index would be more interesting if the\nwriter had used his adjectives less generously, and more reliable\nif he had not insisted on calling Burke a British statesman and\nGoldsmith an \"English\" writer.\n\n\n    A HISTORY OF THE KINGDOM OF KERRY. By M. F. Cusack.\n    Boston: P. Donahoe. London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1871.\n    8vo, pp. 512.\n\nThis latest contribution to the historical literature of Ireland is\nin every respect worthy the genius and industry of the accomplished\nauthor of _The Illustrated History of Ireland_, and other works\nof an historical and biographical character. Hitherto the remote\ncounty of Kerry has been known to tourists and artists for the\nbeautiful scenery of the Killarney Lakes, and to the general reader\nonly as the home of the great orator and politician O'Connell;\nfor the meagre and antiquated history of the county by Smith has\nlong since passed into oblivion, and can scarcely be found in any\nof those receptacles for worn-out authors, called second-hand book\nstores. It remained for Miss Cusack (Sister Mary Frances Clare),\nwho, of all contemporary Irish writers, seems most imbued with a\npassionate desire to produce and reproduce incidents illustrative of\nthe past glories and sufferings of her native country, to undertake\nthe task of writing a history of this, in many respects, the most\ninteresting of the thirty-two counties of Ireland, and it must be\nconfessed that, considering the unpromising and limited nature of the\nsubject, she has performed it with wonderful accuracy and success.\nThe large and handsome volume before us, as a local history, may be\nconsidered a complete narrative of every event connected with Kerry,\nfrom the very earliest period of the traditional epoch down to the\nclose of the seventeenth century, with occasional glances at the\naffairs of adjacent counties, when necessarily connected with those\nof her favorite locality. Several, and not the least attractive of\nthe chapters to a scientific student, are devoted to the geology,\ntopography, and arch\u00e6ology of Kerry and other kindred topics, in the\npreparation of which the author has been assisted by some of the\nbest scholars in Ireland, whose readiness in thus contributing the\nresult of long years of study and experience not only does credit to\ntheir generosity and gallantry, but demonstrates that Miss Cusack's\npatriotic and charitable efforts are fully appreciated by those who\nknow her well and are best fitted to appreciate the value of her\nlabors. The appendix, which is very full, will be found particularly\ninteresting to such of our readers as derive their descent from\nthe ancient Kerry families, containing, as it does, a minute\nand doubtless correct pedigrees of the O'Connors, O'Donoghues,\nO'Connells, O'Mahonys, McCarthys, and other septs whose names are\nindelibly associated with the history and topography of the county.\n\nThe illustrations of local scenery are passable, we have seen better,\nbut the letterpress is excellent, and the whole mechanical execution\nof the work is worthy of the subject, and very creditable to the\ntaste and enterprise of the publishers.\n\n\n    MANUAL OF GEOMETRICAL AND INFINITESIMAL ANALYSIS.\n    By B. Sestini, S.J., author of Analytical Geometry,\n    Elementary Geometry, and a Treatise on Algebra;\n    Professor of Mathematics in Woodstock College.\n    Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1871.\n\n\"We leave it to the reader,\" says Father Sestini in his preface,\nwhich, by the way, corresponds to the book in shortness, \"to judge\nwhether, without detriment to lucidity, our efforts to combine\ncomprehensiveness with brevity and exactness have been successful.\"\nIt seems to us that they have. It is impossible to understand\nanalytical geometry and the calculus, the principles of which are\ndeveloped in this work, without patient thought and application of\nmind; diffuse explanations may be written, no doubt, which will\nenable an ordinary student to master the actual text of his lesson,\nbut they will not be likely to set his mind to working on its own\naccount; and the discovery of the meaning of a sentence which seems\nobscure, but is only so from the student's want of mental exercise in\nthese matters, is of more real service, and at the same time gives\nmore pleasure, than the most copious elucidations. To use these\nis like taking a light into a dark place; it shows clearly what\nis immediately around, but does not allow the pupils of the eyes\nto expand. And without a similar development of the mathematical\nfaculty, which is probably really more common than is generally\nsupposed, needing only proper exercise to bring it out, the study of\nthe science will be comparatively fruitless, and a mere labor instead\nof a pleasure.\n\nIt is, of course, possible to carry this principle too far, and\nmake a book which will be incomprehensible without profuse oral\nexplanations, which will equally prevent a profitable exercise of the\nmind. The author seems to have carried it just far enough. No one to\nwhom the study of the higher mathematics will be profitable at all\ncan find a better work to set him upon the track and give him a grasp\nof the subject than F. Sestini's manual. The expert also, as well as\nthe student, will be pleased with the neatness of its execution, both\nin the mathematical and in the ordinary sense.\n\n\n    VERMONT HISTORICAL GAZETTEER. A Magazine embracing a\n    Digest of the History of each Town, Civil, Educational,\n    Religious, Geological, and Literary. Edited by Abby\n    Maria Hemenway, compiler of the _Poets and Poetry of\n    Vermont_. Burlington. 1870.\n\nNew England is the home of American local history, for, of the works\ndevoted to the annals of cities, counties, and towns, there are more\nrelating to New England than to all other parts of the United States;\nand outside of New England limits the cultivation of local history\nis, in many cases, due to natives of that division.\n\nMiss Hemenway has done good service by her gazetteer, which is really\na general local history of the Green Mountain State. Known favorably\nalready, she has succeeded in obtaining the hearty co-operation of\ngentlemen and ladies in all parts of the state, and she thus gives\nthe history of each county in turn. The history of each church is\ngiven by some one connected with it, and full justice done to all.\nIn some local histories, the prejudice of the author sometimes leads\nhim to ignore all but his own church, or give only such notices as\nhe cannot avoid. We have in our eye a _History of Elizabeth, New\nJersey_, by the Rev. Mr. Hatfield, in which other denominations\nthan his own are very slightingly treated. There are three Catholic\nchurches, a Benedictine convent, a House of Sisters of Charity, and\nan orphan asylum in the place, yet the reverend author sums up their\nhistory in five lines, and quotes as his authority for their annals\nthe City Directory.\n\nIf any institution, church, or author fails to receive due space\nin the _Vermont Historical Gazetteer_, it is not the fault of\nMiss Hemenway, who has labored most indefatigably to extract\ntheir history, and given them wherein to lay it before the world,\nimpartially allowing each to give their own version of affairs. Her\nwork is, of course, not of equal merit; but it contains many articles\nof far more than local interest and value. Her state owes her a debt\nof thanks; and in her plan and scheme of the work, as well as in her\nuntiring industry, she sets an example that may well be imitated in\nother states.\n\n\n    HISTORY OF FLORIDA, FROM ITS DISCOVERY BY PONCE DE\n    LEON, IN 1512, TO THE CLOSE OF THE FLORIDA WAR, IN\n    1842. By George R. Fairbanks. Philadelphia: J. B.\n    Lippincott & Co. 1871.\n\nMr. Fairbanks is not unknown as an author, and this little volume,\nhandsomely issued by an eminent publishing-house, would seem to\nbe a welcome addition, as furnishing, in a compendious form, the\nromantic annals of the oldest settled, though not the oldest, state\nin the Union. We regret to say that we regret the appearance of the\nwork. There is such abundance of material accessible to the ordinary\nstudent, even without entering upon the vast manuscript material\nwhich the late Buckingham Smith spent his life in delving, that\nexactness is of the utmost necessity.\n\nMr. Fairbanks evidently quotes his Spanish authors at second-hand,\nand must be unfamiliar with the Spanish language. No one at all\nconversant with it would quote Cabeza de Vaca, as he repeatedly does,\nunder the name of De Vaca. Cabeza de Vaca is the family name, meaning\nHead of Cow--an odd name, but with its analogy in our Whitehead,\nMulford (mule-ford), Armstrong, etc. To quote him as \"Of Cow\" is like\nciting one of the English names as Head, Ford, or Strong. Quoting\nGarcelasso as L'Inca also betrays ignorance. The Spanish article\nis El, while the elevation of Menendez Marques to the Marquis de\nMenendez is equal to Puss in Boots, who made marquises offhand.\n\nIt is not surprising, then, to find the period from 1568 to 1722\nembraced in 34 pages, and in those only four references to Barcia,\nand these not all correct, though in the 228 pages given by the\nSpanish historian of Florida to that period much interesting matter\nmight have been found.\n\nNor is his acquaintance with the works that have appeared in English\nsuch as we should expect.\n\nThe later portion of the history seems more within his grasp; but\nwithout entering into too great detail, we miss any reference to\nFarmer's account of the siege of Pensacola.\n\nMuch of the space in the earlier portion is devoted to the French\ncolony and its bloody extinction by Menendez, and to Gourgues's\nattack. In this matter he does not treat the matter as Sparks did\nyears ago, or Parkman recently. By all these writers, moreover,\nsome points are overlooked. The piratical character of the French\ncruisers, who, after the Reformation, made religion a cloak for their\nmurders and piracy; the object in selecting Florida, which was to\nform a base for operations against Spanish commerce; the long-settled\ndetermination of the Spanish crown to root out any colony planted in\nFlorida, upon the most plausible pretext the occasion would give;\nthe overt acts of piracy of the new French colony in Florida; and,\nfinally, the critical position of both parties, neither of whom,\nin case of victory, would have dared to keep any of the enemy as\nprisoners.\n\nHe takes the De Gourgues account as the French give it, and, with\nthem, multiplies forts at San Mateo; but we must confess that there\nare discrepancies in it which have always excited our distrust,\nalthough the story is accepted generally by French Catholic writers.\n\n\n    PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY. A Society Novel. By Mrs.\n    Harriet B. Stowe. Boston: Roberts Brothers.\n\nMrs. Stowe has given us in this volume, with her usual distinctness\nof purpose, a true picture, not overdrawn, of fashionable life\nas displayed at our popular watering-places and in many of our\nfashionable homes. The author's \"views,\" so pronounced on all\nsubjects, are generally given with characteristic energy and\nearnestness, if not always with discrimination. So graphic are her\ndescriptions that the reader can see the places she describes, and\nhas a clear insight into the hearts of her characters.\n\nIt is well that one whose writings are always so extensively read\nshould show up the corrupt condition of manners and morals that\nprevail in what is technically called \"high life,\" and in this book\nMrs. Stowe has given an interesting and lifelike picture of the\neveryday well-known scandals that are sapping the very foundation of\nour existence as a nation.\n\nIt is hardly just, however, to put all the folly, all the\nextravagance, and all the sin of our demoralized belles and beauty\nto the credit of France; poor France has enough of her own to bear.\nFrench morals, French manners, French novels, French literature, and\neven the French language are put down in this volume as the source\nof all in the morals of this country that is not pure and elevating.\nThe root of the trouble lies nearer home, and spreads far back to the\nchildhood of these vain men and women, when they were taught that to\n_enjoy themselves_ was the great end for which they were made. \"Have\na jolly time in life, honestly if you can, but have the jolly time\nany way,\" is the chief lesson given to the children and young persons\nbelonging to the world of to-day; and this peoples our places of\npublic resort with the \"fast\" and the shameless.\n\nA poetic picture of New England life is Mrs. Stowe's specialty,\nand refined, cultivated, quiet Springdale is refreshing after the\nflirtations and assignations of the watering-places.\n\nWe find in these pages a just and charming tribute to the Irish\ncharacter as wife and mother; while the author's views of marriage\nare in accordance with the teachings of the Catholic Church, and\nit is no small merit in the book that it strongly advocates the\ndoctrine, \"one with one exclusively, and for ever.\"\n\n\n    THE LIFE AND REVELATIONS OF SAINT GERTRUDE. By the\n    author of \"St. Francis and the Franciscans,\" etc.\n    London: Burns, Oates & Co. Boston; P. Donahoe. 1871.\n\nThis is another of the \"Kenmare series of books for spiritual\nreading.\" It needs no other recommendation. The profit to be derived\nfrom a devout reading of the revelations of this great saint is\ninestimable. They cannot fail to have a lasting influence on the mind\nthat opens itself to their teaching. If some may object that such a\nbook as this is too medi\u00e6val for the nineteenth century, we answer\nthat there are plenty of chosen souls who look back to the middle\nages as the millennium of the Church, when earth was nearest heaven.\n\n\n    ST. PETER: HIS NAME AND HIS OFFICE. By Thomas W.\n    Allies, M.A., Author of \"The See of St. Peter the Rock\n    of the Church,\" and other Works. 1 vol. 12mo, pp.\n    299. London: R. Washbourne; New York: The Catholic\n    Publication Society. 1871.\n\nThis work, partly drawn from the _Commentary on the Prerogatives of\nSt. Peter, Prince of the Apostles_, of Passaglia, and partly the\ncomposition of the learned author, was first published in 1852, and\nelicited the highest encomiums from the most learned portion of the\nChristian world. Its republication at this time, when so much is\nsaid, and so little is actually known, by persons not Catholics, of\nthe apostolic succession, and the divine power vested in the visible\nhead of the church, is exceedingly well timed. The book, though\nsmall in compass, contains not only all the leading incidents of\nSt. Peter's life, but irrefutable proofs of his holy mission and\nsupremacy in the church. Those who have any doubts of the primacy of\nthe See of Rome, or who wish to satisfy themselves as to the extent\nof the power delegated to our Holy Father, should give Mr. Allies's\nbook a careful and serious perusal.\n\n\n    GOLDEN WORDS; OR, MAXIMS OF THE CROSS. By F. H.\n    Hamilton, M.A. 1 vol. pp. 78. London: Burns, Oates &\n    Co.; New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\nThis beautifully printed little book is, as the author candidly\nconfesses, made up mainly from selections made from the writings\nof the celebrated Thomas \u00e0 Kempis. To say this is to pronounce the\nhighest eulogy that can be expressed, for we believe there is no\nperson who claims to be Christian, and who has read _The Following of\nChrist_, but admits that, of all the uninspired writers, its author\nis foremost in wisdom, piety, and practical illustration. Though in\nlarge, clear type, this work is so judiciously condensed that any\nperson can carry it in his pocket, and thus have it at all times for\nreference and edification.\n\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society has just published new editions\nof _Gahan's History of the Catholic Church_ and _Mylius's History\nof England_. Both works are continued down to the present time.\nThe Society also publishes a new and improved edition of _Fleury's\nHistorical Catechism_, revised, corrected, and edited by Rev. Henry\nFormby. This excellent work is intended as a class-book for schools,\nand, if ordered in quantities, the Society is prepared to furnish it\nat an extraordinarily low price. The Society has also in the hands of\nthe binder Fr. Formby's _Pictorial Bible and Church History Stories_.\nThis work ought to be introduced into our schools.\n\n\nMr. P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, has in press _Cineas_, a story\nof the time of Nero, the burning of Rome by that tyrant, and the\ndestruction of Jerusalem. Mr. Donahoe, Boston, announces as in press\na _Compendium of Irish History_, _Ned Rusheen_, and _The Spouse\nof Christ_--all by Sister Mary Francis Clare; also, _The Monks of\nthe West_, by Montalembert; a _Life of Pius IX._, and _Ballads of\nIrish Chivalry_, etc., by R. D. Joyce. Messrs. Kelly, Piet & Co.,\nBaltimore, announce as in press _Mary Benedicta_ and the _Pearl of\nAntioch_. Messrs. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, have just completed their\n_Church Registers_, comprising Baptism, Matrimony, Confirmation,\nInterments, etc.--in all, three Latin Registers and four _Church\nRecords_, uniformly bound and put up in neat boxes.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA MISTAKE CORRECTED.--Mr. Robert A. Bakewell desires us to correct\na statement which was made in our last number, in the article \"The\nSecular not Supreme,\" respecting the views formerly expressed by that\ngentleman in _The Shepherd of the Valley_, on the subject discussed\nin the aforesaid article. Mr. Bakewell has frequently contradicted\na misquotation and misinterpretation of his language by secular and\nsectarian papers, which has made him say that Catholics, if they\never became a large majority of the people of this country, would\nsuppress religious liberty. What he really did say was that, in the\nevent supposed, they would, in accordance with Catholic principles,\nrestrain by law the teaching of those errors which are subversive of\n_natural religion and morality_. Mr. Bakewell states, also, that he\nhas never retracted the views which he expressed in his published\nwritings on this subject, and says that they were impugned by two\nonly of the Catholic newspapers at the time.\n\n\nBOOKS RECEIVED.\n\n    From GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, New York: The Coolie: His\n    Rights and Wrongs, 1 vol. paper.\n\n    From LONGMANS, GREEN & CO., London: Ignatius Loyola and\n    the Early Jesuits. By Stewart Rose, 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 548.\n\n    From R. WASHBOURNE, London: The Men and Women of the\n    English Reformation, from the Days of Wolsey to the\n    Death of Cranmer. Papal and Anti-Papal Notables. By S.\n    H. Burke, author of The Monastic Houses of England.\n    Vol. 1.\n\n    From BURNS, OATES & CO., London: The Life of St.\n    Ignatius Loyola. By Father Genelli, of the Society\n    of Jesus. Translated from the German of M. Charles\n    Sainte-Foi, and rendered from the French by the\n    Rev. Thomas Meyrick, S.J. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 357.--Of\n    Adoration in Spirit and Truth. Written in Four Books.\n    By John Eusebius Neremberg, S.J., native of Madrid, and\n    translated into English by R. S., S.J., in which is\n    disclosed the pith and marrow of a spiritual life of\n    Christ's imitation, and mystical theology; extracted\n    out of the Holy Fathers, and greatest masters of\n    spirit, Diadochus, Dorotheus, Climachus, Rusbrochius,\n    Suso, Thaulerus, a Kempis, Gerson; and not a little\n    both pious and effectual is superadded. With a preface\n    by Rev. Peter Galloway, S.J. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 438.\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n_Underscores_ surround italicized words; =Equal signs= surround bold.\n\nObvious typographical errors were repaired, but legimate archaic\nspellings were retained (for example, villany, villanous, stalworth,\nreconnoissance, idyl, etc.)\n\n\"To Be Continued\" on P. 412, 476, 541, and 618 were missing from the\noriginal, and were added to alert the reader to continuations.\n\nP. 51-54, in the article on \"Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz,\" the Spanish\nstanzas and their English translations were in opposite columns. For\nease of reading in multiple formats, each English stanza has been\nindented below its Spanish original.\n\nP. 633, \"Memoir of Father John de Br\u00e9beuf\": \"what a martyr bore a\nChristian may have courage to Three.'and bringing the scalding water\nfrom the caldron\"--there appears to be text missing between \"courage\nto\" and \"Three\" in the original publication. Unable to determine what\nthat text would be.","title":"The Catholic World, Vol. 13, April to September, 1871","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":501316}