{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_50721/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_50721","id":"gutenberg_50721","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/50721","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Journals","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Sociology","Catholic Church -- Periodicals"],"text":"TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES:\n\n\u2014Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.\n\n\u2014The Table of Contents is shaped as an Index and so it has been\nretained.\n\n\n\n\n                                  THE\n\n                            CATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n\n                                   A\n\n                           MONTHLY MAGAZINE\n\n                                  OF\n\n               GENERAL LITERATURE AND SCIENCE.\n\n\n                              VOL. XVII.\n\n                   APRIL, 1873, TO SEPTEMBER, 1873.\n\n\n                               NEW YORK:\n                    THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION HOUSE,\n                           9 Warren Street.\n\n                                 1873.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n  \u201cAbraham\u201d\u2014\u201cAbron\u201d\u2014\u201cAuburn,\u201d 234\n\n  Abuse of Diplomatic Authority, An, 130\n\n  Antiquities of the Law, 69\n\n  Appeal to Workingmen, 751\n\n  Art, Necessity _versus_, 558\n\n  Art Pilgrimage through Rome, An, 808\n\n\n  Bolanden\u2019s The Russian Idea, 27, 161\n\n  Bolanden\u2019s The Trowel or the Cross, 308, 473\n\n  Bread-Winner, Woman as a, 223\n\n  Brittany: Its People and its Poems, 252, 537\n\n  Brut\u00e9, Memoirs of the Rt. Rev. S. G., 711\n\n\n  Casgrain\u2019s The Canadian Pioneers, 687\n\n  Casgrain\u2019s Picture of the Rivi\u00e8re Ouelle, 103\n\n  Chapman\u2019s The Evolution of Life, 145\n\n  Charlevoix, Shea\u2019s, 721\n\n  Charities, Public, 1\n\n  Chartres, 834\n\n  Church and State in Germany, 513\n\n  Civilization? What is, 486\n\n  Conciliar Decrees on the Holy Scriptures, 195\n\n  Country Life in England, 319\n\n\n  Darwinism, More about, 641\n\n  Dick Cranstone, 392\n\n  Diplomatic Authority, An Abuse of, 130\n\n  Domestic Festivities, English, 630\n\n  Dubois\u2019 Madame Agnes, 78, 182, 330, 446, 591, 731\n\n\n  Early Marriage, 839\n\n  Education, Home, 91\n\n  Empire, The, 606\n\n  England, Country Life in, 319\n\n  English Domestic Festivities, 630\n\n  Erckmann-Chatrian, Mme. Jeannette\u2019s Papers, 566\n\n  Error Rectified, An, 144\n\n  Evening at Chamblay, An, 765\n\n  Evolution of Life, The, 145\n\n\n  Fiske\u2019s Myths and Myth-Makers, 209\n\n  Fontainebleau, 241, 382\n\n  For Better\u2014For Worse, 257, 408\n\n\n  Germany, Church and State in, 513\n\n  Grapes and Thorns, 362, 498, 655, 792\n\n\n  Heaven, 220\n\n  Holy Scriptures, Conciliar Decrees on the, 195\n\n  Home Education, 91\n\n\n  Indians of Ysl\u00e9ta, The, 422\n\n\n  Jerome Savonarola, 289, 433, 577\n\n  Jesuits in Paris, The, 701\n\n  John Baptist de Rossi, and his Arch\u00e6ological Works, 272\n\n  Joseph in Egypt, a Type of Christ, 77\n\n\n  Koche, King of Pitt, 545\n\n\n  Lace, Something about, 56\n\n  Laughing Dick Cranstone, 392\n\n  Law, Antiquities of the, 69\n\n  Legend of S. Christopher, A, 278\n\n  Legend of S. Martin, A, 137\n\n  Life, The Evolution of, 145\n\n\n  Madame Agnes, 78, 182, 330, 446, 591, 731\n\n  Madame Jeannette\u2019s Papers, 566\n\n  Marriage, Early, 839\n\n  Memoirs of a Good French Priest, 711\n\n  Middlemarch and Fleurange, 775\n\n  More about Darwinism, 641\n\n  My Cousin\u2019s Introduction, 171\n\n  Myths and Myth-Mongers, 209\n\n\n  Necessity _versus_ Art, 558\n\n\n  Palais Royal, The, 113\n\n  Paris, The Jesuits in, 701\n\n  Peace, 157\n\n  People and Poems of Brittany, 252, 537\n\n  Philosophical Terminology, 463\n\n  Picture of the Rivi\u00e8re Ouelle, The, 103\n\n  Poet and Martyr, 40\n\n  Political Principle for the Social Restoration of France, The, 348\n\n  Present Greatness of the Papacy, The, 400\n\n  Public Charities, 1\n\n\n  Rami\u00e8re\u2019s The Political Principle of the Social Restoration of France,\n       348\n\n  Records of a Ruin, The, 113\n\n  Reminiscence of San Marco, A, 707\n\n  Rome, An Art Pilgrimage through, 808\n\n  Rossi, John Baptist de, and his Arch\u00e6ological Works, 272\n\n  Russian Idea, The, 27, 161\n\n\n  Sales, S. Francis de, 171\n\n  San Marco: A Reminiscence, 707\n\n  Savonarola, Jerome, 289, 433, 577\n\n  Scholars _en D\u00e9shabill\u00e9_, 844\n\n  Shakespearian Excursus, A, 234\n\n  Shea\u2019s Charlevoix, 721\n\n  Something about Lace, 56\n\n  Southwell, F. Robert, 40\n\n  Stories of Two Worlds, The, 775\n\n\n  Terminology, Philosophical, 463\n\n  Travellers and Travelling, 676, 822\n\n  Trowel or the Cross, The, 308, 473\n\n\n  Unity, 307\n\n\n  What is Civilization? 486\n\n  Woman as a Bread-Winner, 223\n\n  Workingmen, Appeal to, 751\n\n\n  Ysl\u00e9ta, The Indians of, 422\n\n\nPOETRY.\n\n  Angel and the Child, The, 570\n\n\n  Beati qui Lugent, 271\n\n\n  Christe\u2019s Childhoode, 472\n\n\n  Dante\u2019s Purgatorio, 24, 158, 304\n\n  Dies Ir\u00e6, 221\n\n\n  Marriage Song, 462\n\n  May Carol, A, 407\n\n  Mother of God, 710\n\n  Music, 807\n\n\n  Sonnet: The Poetry of the Future, 399\n\n  Sonnet: To the Pillar at S. Paul\u2019s, Rome, 590\n\n  Sonnet: To the Ruins of Emania, 750\n\n\n  Temple, The, 764\n\n  To a Child, 426\n\n  To a Friend, 497\n\n  To be Forgiven, 821\n\n  To the Sacred Heart, 536\n\n\n  Virgin Mary, The, to Christ on the Crosse, 39\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n  Augustine, S., Harmony of the Evangelists, etc., 855\n\n  Augustine, S., On the Trinity, 855\n\n  Alcott\u2019s Aunt Jo\u2019s Scrap-Book, 142\n\n  Amulet, The, 575\n\n\n  Bagshawe\u2019s Threshold of the Catholic Church, 572\n\n  Bateman\u2019s Ierne of Armorica, 427\n\n  Begin\u2019s La Primaut\u00e9 et l\u2019Infaillibilit\u00e9 des Souveraines Pontifes,\n      etc., 576\n\n  Bolanden\u2019s, The Progressionists, and Angela, 281\n\n  Brady\u2019s Irish Reformation, 573\n\n  Brady\u2019s State Papers on the Irish Church, 573\n\n  Brann\u2019s Truth and Error, 142\n\n  Brothers of the Christian Schools during the War, The, 430\n\n  Burke\u2019s Lectures and Sermons, 718\n\n\n  Caddell\u2019s Wild Times, 284\n\n  Catechism of the Holy Rosary, 428\n\n  Church Defence, 280\n\n  Conscience\u2019s The Amulet, 575\n\n  Conscience\u2019s The Fisherman\u2019s Daughter, 575\n\n  Constance and Marion, 432\n\n\n  Deaf Mute, The, 288\n\n  Devere\u2019s Modern Magic, 575\n\n  Directorium Sacerdotale, 574\n\n  Doctrine of Hell, 571\n\n  Donnelly\u2019s Out of Sweet Solitude, 720\n\n\n  Ernscliff Hall, 288\n\n  Elements of Philosophy, 427\n\n  Estcourt\u2019s Anglican Ordinations, 856\n\n\n  Filiola, 288\n\n  Fisherman\u2019s Daughter, The, 575\n\n  Formby\u2019s Catechism of the Holy Rosary, 428\n\n\n  Garside\u2019s The Prophet of Carmel, 858\n\n  Gaume\u2019s Sign of the Cross in the XIXth Century, 429\n\n  Gaume\u2019s Suema, 428\n\n  God Our Father, 143\n\n  Greatorex\u2019s Homes of Ober-Ammergau, 288\n\n\n  Hare\u2019s Memorials of a Quiet Life, 431\n\n  Herbert\u2019s Wilfulness, 285\n\n  Hill\u2019s Elements of Philosophy, 427\n\n  Humphrey\u2019s Mary magnifying God, 428\n\n  Hundred Meditations on the Love of God, A, 574\n\n\n  Ierne of Armorica, 427\n\n  Illustrated Catholic Sunday-School Library, 430\n\n  Isabelle de Verneuil, 430\n\n\n  King and the Cloister, The, 430\n\n\n  Laboulaye\u2019s Poodle Prince, 431\n\n  Landroit\u2019s Sins of the Tongue, 719\n\n  Landroit\u2019s The Valiant Woman, 858\n\n  Life and Letters of a Sister of Charity, 142\n\n  Life of Dori\u00e9, 281\n\n  Life of V\u00e9nard, 281\n\n  Limerick Veteran, 719\n\n  Lunt\u2019s Old New England Traits, 720\n\n\n  McGee\u2019s Sketches of Irish Soldiers, 860\n\n  Mary magnifying God, 428\n\n  Marshall\u2019s Church Defence, 280\n\n  Marshall\u2019s My Clerical Friends, 138\n\n  Meditations on the Blessed Virgin, 860\n\n  Meline\u2019s Two Thousand Miles on Horseback, 286\n\n  Meyrick\u2019s Life of S. Walburge, 855\n\n  Mericourt\u2019s Vivia Perpetua, 575\n\n  Money God, The, 282\n\n  Mulloy\u2019s A Visit to Louise Lateau, 574\n\n  Munro\u2019s Lectures on Old Testament History, 858\n\n\n  Nesbits, The, 283\n\n\n  Old New England Traits, 720\n\n  Only a Pin, 574\n\n  Out of Sweet Solitude, 720\n\n\n  Palma\u2019s Particular Examen, 860\n\n  Peter\u2019s Journey, etc., 285\n\n  Potter\u2019s Rupert Aubrey, 859\n\n  Primaut\u00e9, La, et l\u2019Infaillibilit\u00e9 des Souveraines Pontifes, etc., 576\n\n  Proceedings of the Convention of the Irish Catholic Benevolent Union,\n      287\n\n  Progressionists, The, and Angela, 281\n\n\n  Quinton\u2019s The Money God, 282\n\n\n  Reverse of the Medal, The, 288\n\n\n  Sainte-Germaine\u2019s Only a Pin, 574\n\n  Sermons for all the Sundays and Festivals of the Year, 428\n\n  Sign of the Cross in the XIXth Century, 429\n\n  Snell\u2019s Isabelle de Verneuil, 430\n\n  S\u0153ur Eug\u00e9nie, 142\n\n  Southwell\u2019s Meditations, 574\n\n  Stewart\u2019s Limerick Veteran, 719\n\n  Suema, 428\n\n  Sunday-School Library, 430\n\n  Sweeney\u2019s Sermons, 428\n\n\n  Taylor\u2019s Lars, 430\n\n  Thebaud\u2019s The Irish Race, 432, 718\n\n  Thompson\u2019s Hawthorndean, 430\n\n  Threshold of the Catholic Church, 572\n\n  Truth and Error, 142\n\n  Two Thousand Miles on Horseback, 286\n\n\n  Valuy\u2019s Directorium Sacerdotale, 574\n\n  Visit to Louise Lateau, A, 574\n\n\n  Walworth and Burr, Doctrine of Hell, 571\n\n  Wild Times, 284\n\n  Wilfulness, 285\n\n  Winged Word, A, etc., 572\n\n  Wiseman\u2019s Essays, 431, 575\n\n  Wiseman\u2019s Lectures on the Church, 143\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 97.\u2014APRIL, 1873.\n\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\nI. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n\n\n\nPUBLIC CHARITIES.\n\n\nMODERN civilization has no higher or more important question to\ndeal with than that of ameliorating the condition of the poor, the\nunfortunate, the ignorant, and the vicious. Governments are and can\nbe engaged in no more appalling work than that of legislating wisely\nin regard to these classes, and in seeing that not only are their\ninevitable wants provided for and the public interests protected,\nbut also that their rights are secured in fact as well as in theory,\nand that the instruments employed in these exalted spheres of public\nadministration are suited to their purpose, and are guarded against\ndegenerating from means of amelioration into agencies of oppression,\ncruelty, and injustice.\n\nThere are two chief motives which lead to the care and provision for\nthe unfortunate members of the social body\u2014charity on the one side,\nand philanthropy on the other. Religion inspires every motive for this\ngreat and holy work, and of all the virtues which religion inspires,\ncharity is the highest, purest, and best. Charity is the love of God,\nand of man for God\u2019s sake. That God of charity has revealed to us that,\nof faith, hope, and charity, the greatest is charity; that he that\ngiveth to the poor lendeth to the Lord; that he who performs works of\ncharity to the least of the human race performs them _ipso facto_ to\nthe Lord, creator and ruler of the universe; and that the eternal doom\nof every human being at the last dread day will be decided by this\ngreat test. Christianity itself, like her divine founder, is charity.\nThe church of God, like her Lord and Spouse, is charity. She is imbued\nwith and reflects his divine essence, which is charity. Charity arises\nfrom no statute or arbitrary decree, which might or might not be made\naccording to the option of the legislator; it is the essence and motive\nof all good. It exists in the very nature of things. And as the love\nof God by man is the first and necessary relation of the creature to\nthe Creator, and as our fellow-creatures exist from God, and in and\nby him, it is only through God and in him that we love them. Thus\ncharity is no human sentiment or affection, like philanthropy or the\nnatural love of our neighbor and brother; it is a supernatural virtue,\nspringing from God, and sustained by his grace. The man who does not\nlove his neighbor cannot love God, but rejects his love and violates\nthe first law of his being. Every word and act of our divine Saviour,\nwhile engaged on earth in establishing his church, proves this, if\nthere be need of external proof. Even after his work on earth was done,\nand he had ascended to his Father, he speaks to us through the mouth of\nS. Paul: \u201cIf I speak with the tongues of men and angels, and have not\ncharity, I am become as sounding brass and a tinkling cymbal. And if\nI have prophecy, and know all mysteries, and all knowledge, and have\nall faith, so I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am\nnothing. And if I should distribute all my goods to feed the poor, and\nshould give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me\nnothing.\u201d[1]\n\nPhilanthropy, on the other hand, is the love of man for the sake of\nman; in other words, humanitarianism. It is a human affection springing\nfrom natural motives. To alleviate human sufferings, and promote human\npleasures and enjoyments, are its aims. Its object is the body rather\nthan the soul, earth rather than heaven, time rather than eternity. Its\nmotive power is sentiment or feeling rather than reason or religion.\nIt is a sensitiveness to all human suffering, because suffering or\npain is repulsive to human nature. Philanthropy is a virtue in the\nnatural order, springing from human motives, and not a supernatural\nvirtue springing from religious motives and inspired by divine grace.\nPhilanthropy is good in itself, for our human nature still remains;\nnature and grace are not antagonistic, and may co-exist; nature is\ndependent on grace to raise it to the supernatural state and transform\nit into charity. Charity includes philanthropy, as the greater includes\nthe lesser. Philanthropy without charity is earthly in its aims,\nfrequently rash and sometimes unjust in its measures, tyrannical in the\nexercise of power, and not unfrequently barren in its results.\n\nNow, the church and the state are the organized representatives of\nthese two virtues, the divine and the human. The church is a divine\nkingdom, and cultivates the divine virtue of charity; the state is a\nhuman kingdom, and cultivates the human virtue of philanthropy. The\nchurch is a supernatural body, and practises the supernatural virtue\nof charity; the state exists in the natural order, and practises the\nnatural sentiment of philanthropy. The church is of heaven, and her\ngreatest jewel, charity, is of heaven; the state is of earth, and the\ngreatest of her merits is philanthropy, which is of earthly birth.\nThe church is eternal, so is charity; the state is temporal, as is\nphilanthropy. The church is of God, God is charity, so the church is\ncharity; the state is of man, so is philanthropy. The rewards of the\none are eternal; of the other, temporal. Charity is a Christian virtue,\nand can violate no other Christian virtue in adopting her measures;\nshe cannot make the end justify the means; but philanthropy is a human\nvirtue, and stops at no means necessary to attain its end. Abuses are\nnot necessarily the results of philanthropy, for philanthropy, guided\nby even human reason, is capable of respecting the rights of God and\nmen, and, when guided by supernatural grace, is exalted to charity.[2]\n\nWhat we have chiefly to deal with in this article are institutions of\nbenevolence, which are either wholly public property, and such as,\nthough conducted either by private individuals or by incorporated\nboards of citizen managers, yet receive large shares of the public\nfunds for their foundation, buildings, or current support, and thus\nbecome, to that extent, public institutions, and as such liable to be\ninquired into and criticised by the state and its citizens who pay the\ntaxes thus expended.\n\nThe state in our times and in almost every country undertakes the\nrestraint and custody of the persons of idiots, lunatics, drunkards,\nand other persons of unsound mind, for their safety; of paupers, for\ntheir maintenance; and of minors, unprovided with natural guardians,\nfor purposes of their education, reformation, and maintenance. It is\nnot for us to discuss at length in this article the right of the state\nin any country to _educate and reform_ minors, or, in other words,\nto assume the place of teacher and priest; for it cannot undertake\nto educate without assuming the place of teacher, and still less can\nthe state undertake the work of reformation without usurping the\nsacred functions of the sacerdotal office. Our faith, our reason, and\nour convictions teach us that such offices belong not to the state,\nbut to the church. The state can establish places of restraint and\npunishment, and support and maintain them, both for the protection\nof the public, for the safety of the individuals themselves, and for\npurposes of philanthropy. Having done this, it is the duty of the\nstate to leave free the consciences of its wards and prisoners, and\nto give every facility to the ministers of every church and religious\npersuasion to have free and unrestricted access to the children and\nprisoners belonging to those respective churches or persuasions. We\nclaim this for ourselves as Catholics, and we leave the sects, the\nJews, and every other society of religionists to claim the same for\nthemselves. We are willing to make common cause with them for the\nattainment of our rights. That it is a charity for the state, or, more\ncorrectly speaking, a work of humanity, to assume the temporal care\nand provision for those unfortunate members of society who, either by\ntheir own fault, by the visitation of Providence, or by misfortune,\nare unable to take care of themselves, we are not disposed to deny at\npresent, though even this belongs primarily to the religious duties\nof the individual, and, therefore, comes within the province of the\nchurch; and we know how well the church discharged this duty before\nthe Reformation, and is doing it now. Yet we do not deny to the sects,\nto all men, and to the state, the right to perform good deeds and to\npractise the broadest philanthropy. Such at least seems to be one of\nthe accepted works of government. We therefore accept such institutions\nand works as we find them, and we will view them in the same light\nin which our fellow-citizens generally regard them. As citizens, as\nAmericans, we feel the same interest in them, experience the same\npride in them, and, as a question of property and public right, we\nhold them as a common heritage, in which we have the same interest and\nauthority as our fellow-citizens. We are, therefore, equally interested\nin their proper management and good government, and we yield to none\nin our desire to promote their prosperity and success. There is no\npart of public administration more sacred or important, no function\nof the state so momentous, no public responsibility so awful, as\nthis. Accepting them, as we do, as a part of our common property and\nunited work, we shrink not from any effort for their good government\nand success, and, if need be, for their improvement, reformation,\nand correction. When properly conducted, we have nothing but praise\nfor them; and if, on the other hand, they are mismanaged, the funds\nextravagantly applied; if they are made the instruments of cruelty,\nperversion, or despotism; if in them or any of them religious liberty\nis violated, and systems of proselytizing are carried on against\nCatholic children, or the children of the sects, or those of the Jewish\nChurch, we as Catholics and as American citizens will speak out freely\nand boldly in denouncing them. We are not disqualified from doing this,\neither as citizens or Catholics; not as citizens, because they belong\nto us as much as to other citizens; our money is there with that of\nothers; and the Constitution gives us liberty of speech and of the\npress, and guarantees to us \u201cthe right to assemble and petition for\nthe redress of grievances\u201d;[3] not as Catholics, for we have as such\nthe experience of eighteen hundred years of the most exalted works of\ncharity; and because we claim for ourselves no special privilege over\nothers, but are willing to concede to all what we claim for ourselves.\nNo clamor will deter us from the exercise of this right, or from the\nperformance of this duty. And whilst we cannot yield our rights to any\none sect of Protestantism, we are equally determined, while respecting\nthe rights of all Protestants, not to yield our constitutional rights\nto all the sects of Protestantism combined under the false and\ndeceptive name of unsectarianism. We do not believe in _ex-parte_ and\nsham investigations of public abuses in respect to public institutions,\nand we do not belong to, and are determined not to be deluded by,\nwhitewashing committees of investigation and amiable grand juries. We\nare ever ready to praise, yet we shrink not from administering censure.\n\nThe theory upon which governmental institutions are founded, and those\nestablished by private citizens or boards are assisted is, that of\nprotecting society from a large, idle, ignorant, vicious population,\nby providing the means for the temporal relief and social improvement\nand correction of these classes, so as to bring them to the age of\nself-support in the case of children, to punish criminals, relieve\nthe poor, and thus gradually return them all to society as sober,\nenlightened, honest, industrious, and thrifty citizens. For these\npurposes heavy taxes are laid on the citizens, immense piles of\nbuildings are erected at the public expense, and such institutions are\nannually maintained or aided at enormous cost to the people. In our\nNovember, 1872, number, while admitting and praising the philanthropic\nmotive which sustains these institutions, we regarded them \u201cas really\nnuisances of the worst kind, so far as Catholic children are concerned,\non account of their proselytizing character. Moreover,\u201d we said, \u201cin\ntheir actual workings they violate the rights both of parents and\nchildren, and we have evidence that these poor children are actually\nsold at the West, both by private sale and by auction. The horrible\nabuses existing in some state institutions are partly known to the\npublic, and we have the means of disclosing even worse things than\nthose which have recently been exposed in the public papers.\u201d It is\ndifficult to perceive the success of such institutions as ameliorating\nor reformatory agents, for our public press is loaded every day with\nevidences of the enormous increase of crime and pauperism, and with\ndissertations on the causes of such increase. The public are naturally\nslow in believing that such institutions, upon which so much treasure\nhas been spent, are failures. Such a reflection is an unpalatable one;\nit is humiliating to our pride, and damaging to the boasted progress\nof the XIXth century. It crushes our self-esteem to know that, of all\nplaces needing correction, our Houses of Correction need correction\nmost; and that, of all institutions calling for the stern hand of\nreform, there are none that need so much reformation as our schools\nof reform. A religious paper called _The Christian Union_ has given\nstrong proof of its dislike to have the public eyes opened to these\nunpalatable truths, and we do not think we should have returned so\nsoon to this subject but for a rather disingenuous article in that\npaper, couched in terms not calculated to convince the public that it\nderived its name from the practice or spirit of the virtue of Christian\nunion, which, while challenging us to expose these wrongs and abuses,\ndeclared but too great a willingness to believe \u201cthat these charges,\nso frequently made in Roman Catholic journals, have already received\nthorough investigation and perfect refutation.\u201d\n\nWe complain that our Catholic children in institutions which are\nsupported in whole or in part by public funds\u2014funds, therefore, in\nwhich we have a common property with our fellow-citizens\u2014instead of\nbeing allowed the instruction and practice of their Catholic religion,\nare taught Protestantism in its, to us, most offensive form, and are\nthus exposed to the almost certain loss of their faith. The facts\nupon which we base the charge have never been denied, but, on the\ncontrary, they are openly admitted and announced. Protestants deny\nthat they proselytize Catholic children so as to make them members\nof any distinctive sect, but they admit that Catholic teaching\nand practices are rigidly excluded, and yet that the children are\ntaught a certain religion. Is it not evident that, if such religious\ninstruction produces any result, it is to make these children cease\nto be Catholics, to become non-Catholics, to take the Bible as their\nonly rule of faith, to reject the infallible teachings of their own\nchurch, and to accept the teachings of the institutions as all that is\nnecessary for them to know? This is proselytism of the most offensive\nkind; our children are either made _liberal Christians_, or are placed\nin circumstances which inevitably lead to their joining one or other of\nthe distinctive forms of Protestantism or lose all religion whatever.\nWherever a chaplain is employed, he is either a Methodist minister,\nsuch as Rev. Mr. Pierce in the New York House of Refuge, or he is a\nBaptist, Episcopalian, or other sectarian minister. In many of these\ninstitutions, the religious instruction is under the direction of a\nlay superintendent, as in the Providence School of Reform. And here\nwe beg to give a piece of testimony showing how incompetent laymen are\nfor religious instruction in public reformatories. The witness under\nexamination was at the time one of the trustees of the Providence\nReform School:\n\n \u201cQ. Have you any knowledge in relation to the distribution of\n religious books among the pupils, and their being taken away?\n\n \u201cA. I don\u2019t of my own knowledge; I furnished once one book of a\n religious character, and one only; I furnished it to the _officer\n having in charge the devotional exercises_ on the girls\u2019 side; I\n gave that to the officer for his own use; it was given to him in\n consequence of considerable religious feeling that there was existing\n among the girls at the time; the girls were holding among themselves\n what they called prayer-meetings; the _gentleman having in charge the\n devotional exercises said he felt utterly incompetent to conduct the\n devotions in suitable words_,\u201d etc.\n\nReligious liberty is openly and positively denied in the New York House\nof Refuge, as will be seen from their own \u201cReport of Special Committee\nto the Managers of the House of Refuge,\u201d 1872; from which it appears,\nat pp. 21, 22, that the religion of the house consists in \u201cChristian\nworship in simple form, and Gospel lessons in Sunday-schools,\u201d and that\nthe \u201cinmates are brought into the _same_ chapel for public worship,\u201d\nand that \u201cthe whole regimen of the house,\u201d including of course the\nreligious part, \u201cis devised and pursued with careful attention to\nthe _wants of the inmates, but is not submitted to the control of\nthemselves or their friends_.\u201d As Americans we have been taught from\nour infancy that liberty of conscience is the dearest right of the\nAmerican citizen. We learned in our college days that even \u201cCongress\nshall make no law respecting the establishment of a religion, or\nprohibiting the free exercise thereof\u201d; but we now learn that what the\nhighest legislative power in the nation, and what no state legislature,\ncan do, the managers of the New York House of Refuge have done and\nare now doing: they have made a law respecting the establishment of a\nreligion in the House of Refuge, a public institution\u2014a religion which\nthey have called variously \u201cChristian worship in simple form,\u201d \u201cGospel\nlessons,\u201d \u201cUnsectarianism,\u201d \u201cThe Broad Principles of Christianity\u201d\u2014and\nhave forbidden the free exercise of any other religion. Even if all\nChristians were united in this worship and in these principles, have\nJewish citizens no rights under the Constitution? As citizens of the\nState of New York, we have learned from the state constitution and\nBill of Rights \u201cthat the free exercise and practice of religious\nprofession and worship without discrimination or preference shall\n_for ever be allowed to all mankind_.\u201d Chancellor Kent, in his\n_Commentaries on American Law_, says that \u201c_the free exercise_ and\nenjoyment of religious profession and worship may be considered as one\nof the _absolute rights of individuals_, recognized in our American\nconstitutions and secured to them by law.\u201d[4] And Story, in his\n_Commentaries on the Constitution_, maintains in equally strong terms\n\u201cthe freedom of public worship according to the dictates of one\u2019s\nconscience.\u201d[5]\n\nBut we are now told by the Managers of the House of Refuge that\n\u201cdelinquency has, under the law, worked some forfeiture of rights, and\nthat neither the delinquents nor their friends for them can justly\nclaim, while under sentence of the courts, equal freedom with the rest\nof the community who have not violated the law.\u201d[6] Such was the\nanswer given by American citizens, constituting the Board of Managers\nof the New York House of Refuge, to the committee of American citizens\nsent by the Catholic Union to demand liberty of conscience and freedom\nof religious worship for the Catholic children in the Refuge! Either\nthis answer means that the children in the House of Refuge are not a\nportion of _mankind_, or that religious freedom is one of the rights\nforfeited by delinquency, or the Board of Managers have proclaimed\nthemselves guilty of the grossest violation of the rights of man and\nof God. We presume these gentlemen will not admit either the first\nor the third of these alternatives; indeed, they almost say in terms\nthat a commitment to the House of Refuge works a forfeiture of that\nreligious liberty guaranteed to all mankind. We know delinquency under\nthe law suspends the civil rights of the delinquent while in prison,\nsuch as the right to hold public office or administer a private trust;\nbut it does not work even a forfeiture of property except in the case\nof an outlawry of treason. These are all the forfeitures worked by the\nhighest crimes known to the law. Religion is not a civil right; no\ncrime can forfeit it; no power on earth can extinguish it. The greatest\nof public malefactors, the murderer and the traitor, enjoy it even on\nthe scaffold: does the child whose only offence is poverty or vagrancy\nforfeit it? In the sacred names of Liberty and Religion, what sort of\n_Refuge_ is this to stand on American soil?\n\nThe Children\u2019s Aid Society is another New York institution largely\nsupported by public funds. We learn from its Nineteenth Annual Report,\n1871, that one of its objects is to shelter in its lodging-houses the\norphan and the homeless girls and boys, and labor incessantly to give\nthem the \u201c_foundation ideas of morals and religion_\u201d (p. 5). Alluding\nto the _Italian_ School, No. 44 Franklin Street, the report says: \u201cWe\nhave _conquered the prejudices and superstition of ignorance_, and\n_converted_ into useful citizens hundreds of this unfortunate class.\u201d\nWith such a programme of unsectarian conversion, the leading feature\nin which is indifferentism in religion, the immediate forerunner of\ninfidelity and agrarianism, it is no wonder that the report immediately\nproceeds: \u201cSo much so, indeed, that the Italian government,\u201d that same\ngodless government which is so ferociously waging war on Catholicity,\n\u201chas taken a deep interest in our institution\u201d (p. 28).\n\nIt is only necessary to read these reports to be convinced that the\nsystem either leads to materialism, the religion of worldly prosperity\nand thrifty citizenship, or to some form of Protestant sectarianism.\nThe system of \u201cemigration\u201d pursued by such institutions, by which\nchildren are sent out West and placed with anybody and everybody who\nwill take them, completes the work commenced in the East. On pages\n54-56 of the report last quoted is related the case of a youth sent\nEast, who \u201ccannot speak of his parents with any certainty at all\u201d; it\nmatters not what religion they were of, the son is now _preparing for\nthe ministry_ of one of the sects. His letter also recites a similar\ncase in reference to another boy \u201cwho was sent out West.\u201d It is certain\nthat he is not preparing for the Catholic ministry, for his impressions\nof a miracle are thus expressed: \u201cTo be taken from the gutters of New\nYork City and placed in a college is almost a miracle.\u201d The story of\nyoung \u201cPatrick,\u201d p. 59, whose education was obtained at the Preparatory\nSchool at Oberlin and at Cornell University, is significant. On page\n60 is told the story of an _Irish_ orphan girl sent to Connecticut, and\nplaced with \u201can intelligent Christian woman, who means to do right.\u201d\nOn page 63 is told the history of a little boy sent to Michigan, who\nis well pleased with toys and new clothes, \u201clike all other children;\nhe has a splendid new suit of clothes just got, and _he attends church\nand Sabbath-school_.\u201d A similar case is related at page 65, of a\nlittle girl sent to Ohio, and we shall show below what has become of\nlittle girls sent to that state. These are some of the model cases of\nwhich this unsectarian society makes a boast in its report. It is a\nsignificant fact that, of the 8,835 who came under the influences of\nthis society in one year, 3,312 were of Irish birth, and it may be\nestimated with certainty that a considerable proportion of the other\nchildren of foreign, as well as many of home birth were Catholics.\nThe number of children born in Ireland who were sent West during the\nyear was 1,058. This institution received for the furtherance of these\nunsectarian objects the sum of $66,922.70 in this year from our public\nfunds.\n\nWe have also before us the Twentieth Annual Report of the New York\nJuvenile Asylum, 1871, which proves the proselytizing character of\nthis public-pap-fed unsectarian institution. \u201cThe children that are\nentrusted to us are at the _most susceptible period of life_,\u201d etc.,\n\u201cwhen their destiny for time, if not _for eternity_, may be fixed\u201d (p.\n9). \u201cThey must be drilled into systematic habits of life in eating,\nsleeping, play, study, work, and _worship_\u201d (p. 10). To \u201cattend church\u201d\n(p. 21), and \u201cthe evening worship,\u201d and religious services generally,\nare frequently recurring duties of the children. In this institution\nthe children of foreign birth during the year were 3,648, and of these\n1,981 were born in Ireland. Of course we cannot say how many of the\nchildren of home birth were the children of Irish and Catholic parents.\nWe have, alas! but too much certainty that a large proportion of the\nchildren are Catholic. We casually met recently with an interesting\nproof of this in _Scribner\u2019s Magazine_, November, 1870, in an account\ngiven by a visitor to the Juvenile Asylum. In the evening the visitor\nwas invited to see the girls\u2019 dormitory as the girls were going to bed.\nShe writes: \u201cAll the children were saying their prayers. I noticed that\nseveral of them made the sign of the cross as they rose.\u201d Touching\nevidence of their traditional faith and parental teaching! a simple\nbut sublime tribute to holy church! an earnest sign of love and hope\nfor those sacraments which came to us through the cross, but which,\nlike that cross itself, were not a part of the religion, worship, and\npractice of this unsectarian asylum.\n\nIn the list of model examples presented in the report of the Western\nagent will be seen the usual proselytizing influence of such\ninstitutions. The cases either show mere material or worldly advantage,\nor the embrace of pure sectarianism. On page 50 is related the case\nof a little girl, who \u201cscarcely remembers her parents,\u201d of whom it is\nrelated that \u201cshe is a member of the Presbyterian Church.\u201d Two other\ngirls are indentured to members of the Methodist Episcopal Church. The\n\u201cchurch and Sunday-school\u201d are prominent features in nearly every case.\nThe amount received during the year by this _unsectarian_ institution\nfrom our public funds was $62,065.24..\n\nThe Five Points House of Industry, which received, from 1858 to\n1869, the sum of $30,731.69. from our Board of Education, states\nin its charter, among the objects for which it was incorporated,\nthe following: \u201cIII. To imbue the objects of its care with the pure\nprinciples of Christianity, as revealed in the Holy Scriptures,\nwithout bias from the distinctive peculiarities of any individual\nsect.\u201d This means that the children belonging to distinctive religious\ndenominations, instead of being allowed to follow the distinctive\ntenets, and practise the worship, in which they were reared, are\ndeprived of this right, and, as respects the Catholic children, they\nare to reject and exclude every tenet and devotion distinctively\nCatholic. How far even this profession of unsectarianism is carried\ninto practice will be discovered from the _Monthly Record_ of the Five\nPoints House of Industry for April and May, 1870, p. 302, giving an\naccount of the dedicatory exercises:\n\n \u201cThe services consisted of an opening anthem by the children, followed\n by a prayer by _Rev._ Dr. Paxton, asking a blessing upon the House and\n its objects.\n\n \u201cThis was followed by a hymn; a statement of the affairs of the\n institution, by _Rev._ S. B. Halliday; a recitative by the children;\n a statement as to city missions, by _Rev._ G. J. Mingins; a short\n discourse on the \u2018Union of Christian Effort,\u2019 by _Rev._ H. D. Ganse; a\n discourse on the \u2018Lights and Shadows of Large Cities,\u2019 by _Rev._ John\n Hall, D.D.; and, finally, a roundelay given by the children.\u201d\n\nHow far the pledge given in the charter of this establishment, \u201cwithout\n_bias_ from the distinctive peculiarities of any individual sect,\u201d\nis carried out is further seen from the following extract from a\nletter addressed by the president to the Rev. John Cotton Smith, a\nprominent minister of the Episcopalian sect: \u201cBetween your church and\nthe institution the most kind and harmonious _co-operation_ has ever\nexisted. They will ever cherish a most pleasing remembrance of the\nrelations that have subsisted between them.\u201d[7]\n\nWe might have alluded to the \u201cHoward Mission and Home for Little\nWanderers,\u201d founded by that arch-proselytizer, the Rev. W. C. Van\nMeter, which during seven years _disposed of_ 7,580 \u201clittle wanderers\u201d\nof this city, in an unsectarian manner; but want of space forbids\nour doing so. But the _animus_ pervading this and other unsectarian\ninstitutions is exhibited to us now in the fact, that this reverend\nhas transferred the field of his labors from the Five Points to the\ncity of Rome, the centre and headquarters of Catholicity. He has there\nestablished a mission and home for the little Romans. We do not stand\nalone in our opinion that such institutions are nuisances for Catholic\nchildren, and we quote the closing words of a letter recently addressed\nto the Rev. Mr. Van Meter by the editor of the _Voce della Verita_, at\nRome:\n\n \u201cNow, dear sir, excuse me if I remind you, that although a very\n ignorant person, \u2018when I was a little boy,\u2019 I also went to school,\n and learned a few things about your country. I remember to have heard\n it said that misery and ignorance abounded there, and that many\n hundreds of thousands of your compatriots knew of no other God than\n the almighty dollar. Why do you not go back and teach in Nebraska\n or Texas, and leave us alone? You might positively do some good\n there\u2014now you are a\u2014well, let me tell the truth\u2014a _nuisance_. By\n your homeward voyage, you will benefit both your own country and\n ours.\u201d[8]\n\nAnother complaint that we make against our semi-governmental charities\nrelates to the violation of the rights of parents and children, in the\nsale of these children at the West. This pernicious practice of exiling\nand transporting children from New York to the West is still in full\nvigor amongst these institutions. How can we boast of our charities,\nwhen their main feature consists in shifting the burden from our own\nshoulders to those of others, and they are strangers? It is in vain\nthat we claim these children as the wards and _prot\u00e9g\u00e9s_ of society\nand of our city, if we repudiate the duties and responsibilities of\nour guardianship. Against this cruelty and injustice we protest in the\nnames of civilization and Christianity. The institutions whose reports\nwe have referred to not only admit, but they boast of this outrage upon\nthe rights of parents and of children. One of them, the Children\u2019s Aid\nSociety, refers to this branch of operations, \u201cits Emigration System,\u201d\nas the \u201ccrown\u201d of all its works. The number of children thus exiled\nfrom the state by this society and transported to distant regions,\nduring the year of the report referred to, was 3,386; the whole number\nsince 1854 was 25,215. More than half the 3,386 were sent to Ohio, and\nto the distant states of Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Kansas,\nand Nebraska. Of one little boy thus exiled, who was separated from his\nparents at the age of eight years, the Western agent reports: \u201cI think\nhis mother would scarcely know him.\u201d He reports that the mistress to\nwhom another was \u201cdisposed of\u201d writes of him: \u201cIndeed, I don\u2019t know\nwhat I should do without him, for he saves me a great many steps. I\nwish we could find out about his brother and sister, he often cries\nabout them.\u201d\n\nExile and transportation of children is also practised by the Five\nPoints House of Industry. They have obtained extraordinary powers for\nthis purpose from the Legislature. For while the Commissioners of\nPublic Charities and Correction, a purely governmental institution,\npossess the power of indenturing children to citizens of the state of\nNew York and adjoining states only, the Five Points House of Industry\nhas received the power to send them anywhere and everywhere. But the\nCommissioners of Public Charities and Correction send the poor children\nthey get into their power to the most remote states in violation of the\nexpress law of the case. For instead of confining their indentures to\ncitizens of New York and the adjoining states, as the law directs, they\nsend them indiscriminately to every state, even the most distant. We\nask those public servants by what fiction of law they make California\nand Texas _adjoin_ New York?\n\nThe New York Juvenile Asylum has also a \u201cregular agency at Chicago, by\nwhich the work of indenturing children at the West is conducted.\u201d[9]\nThe total number of children sent West during fifteen years, from 1857\nto 1871 inclusive, is 2,206, and the annual average, 147-1/15 (p. 47).\n\nThe extent to which this _crowning_ cruelty of our non-sectarian\ninstitutions is carried, is appalling. We have only cited the\ncases of the three whose reports happened to be before us. But we\nhave been informed, unofficially, and we think the statement can\nbe made good, that there are in the city of New York no less than\ntwenty-eight _charitable_ institutions engaged in this cruel practice\nof transporting our New York children to the West and other remote\nparts, and the average number of these little exiles per week is about\ntwo hundred, making about ten thousand every year. What untold abuses\nand hardships must result from this barbarous practice! However noble,\ngenerous, and philanthropic may be the motives of the citizen-managers\nof these institutions, they cannot attend in person to the details or\neven the general management of their work. Not only are their houses in\nthe city confided to the management of hired and salaried agents and\nservants, but the work of transporting children to the West is confided\ngenerally to the same class of agents, and we intend to show how this\n_charitable_ function is discharged. They are actuated by no higher\nmotives than usually actuate their class. The love of God, and of man\nfor God\u2019s sake, is not the spirit that inspires their labors and guides\ntheir steps. Corruption and infidelity to duty have stalked brazenly\ninto the public service everywhere; what reason have we for claiming\nan exemption in favor of those who find profitable employment in the\nadministration of public charities?\n\nBut, as the _Christian Union_ demands further proof than is accessible\nto the public, we will produce some additional evidence, although we\nthink we have already shown enough to condemn this system; and the tone\nof that journal\u2019s article leads us to believe that if an angel from\nheaven disclosed to its view the same corruption and oppression which\nwe see in this branch of public administration, it would still cling to\nits idols.\n\nNow we have before us a letter, dated September 23, 1872, addressed by\na clergyman at Tiffin, Ohio, to a clergyman in the East, from which we\nquote:\n\n \u201cIn answer to your request concerning those children brought on some\n four or five years ago from the East to be disposed of, I might say\n with prudence, that to several counties of Ohio had been brought\n car-loads of children from three years on to twelve and thirteen years\n old, and offered to the _public_ to take one or more; for they who\n offered the children said those who would take them had to pay the\n expenses of bringing them to the place. For some children the man said\n the expense would be fifteen dollars, for others more, others less.\n This is the way the affair was carried on for some time.\u201d\n\nThe gentleman to whom the foregoing letter was addressed, and who\nsent it to us, gives also his own testimony on this public traffic in\ninnocent human beings. His letter is dated September 25, 1872, and\nreads as follows:\n\n \u201cAt that time,\u201d some four or five years ago, \u201cI was on a trip to\n Tiffin. Delayed for a short time at Clyde, I asked some questions of\n the baggage-master. Three little girls were near him, and I asked him:\n \u2018Are these your daughters?\u2019 A. \u2018No, I bought them?\u2019 \u2018Bought them! how?\n from whom?\u2019 A. \u2018Oh! from the ministers. They bring car-loads of these\n little ones every few weeks, and sell them to any one who wants them.\n I gave $10 for this one, $12 for the next, and $15 for the oldest. I\n had not the money, but I borrowed it from the tavern-keeper, and paid\n for the girls. Lately there was another load of them. There was a very\n fine girl. I wanted her. But the minister said, \u2018No; I have promised\n her to a rich man in Forrest, who will pay more than you.\u2019 After some\n further conversation of a similar character, the train came in sight,\n and I left. The next day I was speaking of the circumstance at table.\n Rev. Mr.\u2014\u2014 remarked that he knew the baggage-master well, and that\n what he said was true. He added, \u2018Within the last month there was a\n sale of some thirty of these children in our Court House. One of my\n parishioners, Mr.\u2014\u2014, came along as the sale was about over. A little\n boy was standing before the Court House crying; the German asked him,\n \u2018What is the matter?\u2019 He said, \u2018That man wants to sell me, and no one\n will buy me.\u2019 The boy was bought by the German for $10. I had heard\n such transactions described in one of his lectures by F. Haskins.\n But I scarcely realized how fearful such conduct is until I heard a\n description of these sales from persons who had seen them.\u201d\n\nSuch, indeed, is the \u201ccrowning\u201d work of some of the charitable\ninstitutions of New York! Is this the fulfilment of the Gospel of\ncharity, or of the Sermon on the Mount, or of the broad principles of\nChristianity? Perhaps, rather, it is the Rev. Mr. Pierce\u2019s _elastic_\nsystem of religion.[10] Compare these humiliating facts with the\nself-congratulatory reports on \u201cEmigration\u201d of the Children\u2019s Aid\nSociety, which in 1871 sent three hundred and seven of these little\nwards of the city to the same state of Ohio.[11] At page 10 we read:\n\n \u201cEvery year we expect that the opposition of a very bigoted and\n ignorant class will materially lessen this _the most effective of our\n charitable efforts_. We have surpassed, however, owing to the energy\n of our Western agents, the results of every previous equal period, in\n the labors of the past year.\n\n \u201cCrowds of poor boys have thronged the office or have come to the\n lodging-houses for a \u2018chance to go West\u2019; great numbers of very\n destitute but honest families have appealed to us for this aid, and\n our agents have frequently conveyed parties of a hundred and more.\n The West has received these children _liberally_ as before; and there\n has been less complaint the past year than usual of bad habits and\n perverse tempers. The larger boys are still restless as ever, and\n inclined to change their places where higher inducements are offered.\n But this characteristic they have in common with our whole laboring\n class.\u201d\n\nAgain:\n\n \u201cEmigration.\u2014This department has worked most successfully the past\n year. A larger number has been removed from the city than ever before.\u201d\n\nIt would seem, however, that the experience of the New York Juvenile\nAsylum, though still persevering in this traffic as a good work, has\nnot been as satisfactory as that of the Children\u2019s Aid Society. We will\ngive an extract from the Twentieth Annual Report, showing even from the\nmouths of those who practise it as a good work what a crying evil this\nis, and confirming the extracts we have given in reference to the sales\nof children in Ohio:\n\n \u201cRemoving and replacing children is one of the important functions\n of the agency. Our children are first placed on trial, and in nearly\n every company some have to be replaced over and over again before they\n are permanently settled. But even after indentures have been executed,\n new _developments_ often compel removals. Such are the weaknesses\n of human nature, and such the instability of human affairs, that,\n without provision to meet the exigencies consequent upon them, _cases\n of extreme hardship and inhumanity would be frequent_. They who have\n not had experience in this kind of work are not apt to realize, and it\n is often difficult to persuade them of, _the imperative need of such\n provision_. _Children will not unfrequently get into improper hands in\n spite of every precaution, and in many cases success is more or less\n problematical._ Death of employers also, and change of circumstances,\n are often the occasion of removals. _Not a month goes by that does not\n furnish cases where, but for timely attention, suffering, mischief,\n and irreparable evil would result._ A little familiarity with the\n field work of this agency would convince its most obdurate opponent\n that _to leave children without recourse among strangers in a strange\n land is an unjustifiable procedure_.\u201d\n\nApart from the inhumanity of this procedure, from its unchristian\ncharacter, from its proselytizing effects, we protest against it in the\nname of law, of right, and of human liberty. The common law of England\nis our heritage, and by that common law \u201cno power on earth, except\nthe authority of parliament, can send any subject of England out of\nthe land against his will; no, not even a criminal. The great charter\ndeclares that no freeman shall be banished unless by the judgment of\nhis peers or by the law of the land; and by the _habeas corpus_ act\nit is enacted that no subject of this realm who is an inhabitant\nof England, Wales, or Berwick shall be sent into Scotland, Ireland,\nJersey, Guernsey, or other places beyond the seas.\u201d[12] Chancellor\nKent, in his _Commentaries on American Law_ (ii. 34), claims the same\nproud privilege as one of the absolute rights of American citizens,\nand, while declaring that \u201cno citizen can be sent abroad,\u201d states that\nthe constitutions of several of the states of our confederacy contain\nexpress provisions forbidding transportation beyond the state.\n\nWe come now to the last and not the least painful task, which the\n_Christian Union_ insists upon our undertaking; it relates to \u201cthe\nhorrible abuses existing in some of our state institutions.\u201d And\nhere, as in the preceding remarks, we must confine ourselves to a\nportion only of the mass of materials before us, and, in fact, confine\nourselves to a single institution; for, if such things exist in a\nsingle case, this is enough to prove not only the possibility, but also\nthe probability of the same thing in others, and to dispel the fatal\nblindness which can see nothing defective either in their constitution\nor management. We must pass over the charges recently preferred against\nthe New York House of Refuge, relating to improper food, of excessive\nlabor, of cruel punishments, employment of unfit and incompetent agents\nin the management of the institution, and of religious intolerance.\nWhile we think that the evidence produced on the trial of the boy,\nJustus Dunn, for killing one of the officers of the Refuge, goes far\nto substantiate most of the charges preferred, we have, in common with\nthe community, but little respect for the whitewashing certificate\ngiven by the grand-jury, who made a flying visit to the institution,\nby invitation, on an appointed day. Of course the officers put their\nhouse in order, and failed not to put their best foot foremost, on\nthis preconcerted occasion. The managers placed no reliance on this\nacquittal, for they courted another soon afterwards. The second\ninvestigation by the State Commissioners of Charity was very little\nbetter; it was _ex parte_ on all the charges except that of religious\nintolerance, and the Refuge was acquitted on all the charges except\nthis last.\n\nWe must also pass over, for want of space, the revolting case which\noccurred at the New York Juvenile Asylum in June last, in which one of\nthe inmates of the asylum, a colored girl, instead of finding there\nan asylum from temptation and seduction, fell a victim to the lust\nof one of the officers of the institution, who fled precipitately on\ndiscovery of the fact.[13] We must pass over, for the same reason, the\ninvestigations recently conducted at St. Louis, which are far from\nshowing a satisfactory result for the management and conduct of public\nreformatories. We must confine ourselves now to a single institution\u2014a\ncase in which the evidence is replete with horrible abuses, cruelties,\nimproprieties, and wrongs. While we would be sorry to apply the maxim,\n_ex uno disce omnes_, we can but regard this case as a general warning\nto our people to beware of regarding as good everything in the moral\norder that goes under the much-abused name of _reform_.\n\nThe Providence School of Reform is an institution supported by funds\nreceived both from the state of Rhode Island and from the city of\nProvidence. Its object seems to be the temporal, social, and moral\nreformation of juvenile delinquents of both sexes. Some time prior to\n1869, it had been the subject of the gravest charges and investigation,\nwhich tended to show that, so far from having been in all its\ndepartments and workings a school of reform, it had in some instances\nbecome a school for vice and immorality. The whitewashing process,\nthat facile and amiable way of avoiding disagreeable complications,\nprevented the accomplishment of any change for the better. But in\n1869 the charges against the institution took a more definite form,\nand were signed and presented by thirty-one citizens of Providence to\nthe corporate authorities\u2014citizens of the first respectability and\nstanding. The Board of Aldermen of the city of Providence, headed by\nthe Mayor, undertook the investigation, and the evidence is contained\nin two large volumes in one, extending over eleven hundred and\nforty-two pages.[14]\n\nThe charges were the most serious ones that could be brought against an\ninstitution, especially against one professing _reform_, and had their\norigin with citizens without distinction of creed. Their true character\nand extent can only be understood by a perusal of them:\n\n \u201cFirst. That vices against chastity, decency, and good morals have\n prevailed in the school, and have been taught and practised by\n teachers as well as by pupils; that these vices have existed both in\n the male and female departments, and that the children usually leave\n the school more corrupt than when they entered it.\n\n \u201cSecond. That teachers have used immodest and disgusting language in\n the presence of children, and have addressed females in an indecent\n manner by referring to their past character, and by calling them vile\n and unbecoming names.\n\n \u201cThird. That modes of punishment the most cruel and inhuman have been\n used in said school, such as knocking down and kicking the pupils, and\n whipping them when naked, and with a severity not deserved by their\n offences.\n\n \u201cFourth. That young women are said to have been kicked, knocked down,\n dragged about by the hair of the head, and otherwise brutally treated,\n but more especially that all modesty and decency have been outraged\n by stripping them to the waist and lashing them on the naked back;\n taking them from their beds and whipping them in their night-dresses;\n tying their hands and feet and ducking them; and by other forms of\n punishment which no man should ever inflict upon a woman.\n\n \u201cFifth. That names of children committed to said school have been\n changed and altered by the officers of the said institution.\n\n \u201cSixth. That children have been apprenticed to persons living in\n remote sections of the country, and who have no interest in taking\n proper care of them, and that a needless disregard to the rights and\n feelings of their parents has often been evinced by the officers of\n the school.\n\n \u201cSeventh. That the goods of said school are reported to have been used\n dishonestly for purposes for which they were not intended, and that\n the state of Rhode Island is said to have been charged with the board\n of children who were living at service and were no expense to said\n school.\n\n \u201cEighth. That a spirit of proselytism and of religious intolerance\n has prevailed in the school, as is shown in the fact that children of\n different creeds are compelled to attend a form of worship which is\n contrary to the conscientious convictions of a large majority of them;\n which is directly in conflict with the spirit and letter of our state\n constitution, which ensures to the inhabitants thereof the liberty\n of conscience, in the following language: \u2018No man shall be compelled\n to frequent or to support any religious worship, place, or ministry\n whatever, except in fulfilment of his own voluntary contract;\u2019 and\n that the children of said school are denied the use of books and all\n religious instruction in the religion of their choice.\u201d\n\nAlthough there is evidence in the volume of _Investigation_ before us\ntending to sustain the \u201cfifth\u201d and \u201cseventh\u201d charges, we yet except\nthose two charges from our remark, when we say that the other six\ncharges, constituting the gravamen of the prosecution, are not only\nsustained in whole or in part by nearly one hundred witnesses, but,\nwith all deference to the five aldermen out of ten who found most of\nthem _not proved_, we think that no unbiassed reader of the heavily\nladen and sad volume before us, no true philanthropist, no man of true\ncharity, can fail to pronounce the word _guilty_ as to all or some\npart of every one of the first, second, third, fourth, seventh, and\neighth charges. We are sorry to be forced to the conviction that the\ntestimony is overwhelming. There are cases of punishment cruel in the\nextreme\u2014some have called them inhuman, and even brutal\u2014inflicted on\nabout sixty boys; and, while nearly every page shows this, we refer\nparticularly to pages 112, 123, 172, 234, 238, 274, 279, 280, 281, 289,\n290, 295, 318, 364, 366, 375, 379, 383, 387, 388, 402, 403, 410, 414,\n416, 419, 421, 425, 432, 437, 440, 446. See evidences more particularly\nreferring to the use of the loaded whip, page 378; the strap, the cat,\nthe strings, 286, 339; the butt, 492; blood drawn, 364, 485; terrorism,\n239, 269, 270, 305, 371, 418, 424, 425, 492; whipping little boys over\nthe knuckles with a bunch of keys, 146, 147; kicking, 447, 485, 526,\nand 323 of vol. ii.; boys struck on the head with a hammer, 331, 379;\nprofanity and indecency, 280, 302, and page 135 of vol. ii.; Catholic\nbooks taken away from Catholic children, 308, 309, 310; state of Rhode\nIsland charged with board of children who had been put out of the\ninstitution, 307, which was regarded as \u201can error of the head and not\nof the heart,\u201d 327 of vol. ii.\n\nThere are also detailed in the _Investigation_ cases of about thirty\ngirls punished in a cruel and revolting manner. For girls lashed,\nbodies striped and bruised, see pages 18, 19; a girl struck, caught\nby the throat, pounded, and dragged by the hair of the head, 23; a\ngirl struck with fist, and black eye, 55; a girl stripped to the\nwaist of all her clothes, except undergarment, and whipped with\ncat-o\u2019-nine-tails, and body marked, 93; another girl dragged by the\nhair, 95; a girl ducked, 102; a girl boxed until her nose bled, and\nwater dashed on her, 102; a girl chased, kicked, and held under flowing\nwater, 108; a girl dragged by the hair, kicked, and ducked, 219, 220;\nanother girl dragged by the hair and kicked, 228; another lashed black\nand blue, 229; a girl lashed on the back after she had gone to bed,\n338; another girl whipped with the straps, and kicked, 344; another\ngirl stripped to the waist, leaving only undergarment on, and whipped\nwith a knotted strap, 360; a girl ducked, 272. A mother is refused\npermission to see her child, who was whipped, and refused information\nas to whither the child was transported. The mother said: \u201cI will\ntravel Rhode Island through, and I will travel Connecticut through,\nbut what I will find her. I have not seen her for the last six or\neight years, and a mother\u2019s nature goes beyond any mortal thing in\nthis world. A mother wants to see her child. I could not get anything\nfrom them,\u201d 374. Another girl is stripped like the others, and lashed,\nmarked, and scarred on the back, 395. A witness, at page 396, says:\n\u201cI saw\u2014\u2014 stripped with her dress down; she was badly bruised on the\nshoulder; I did not see any blood, but I saw the bruises were pretty\nbad bruises; there were scars clear across her shoulders; you could not\nsee scarcely a piece of plain flesh on her shoulders.\u201d At page 443, a\nformer inmate testifies to the treatment received by another inmate: \u201cI\nsaw him shower her and strike her; he knocked her against the building\nwith his fist, and the blood ran out of her nose and ears while she\nwas by the fence, while he stood there punishing her.\u201d At page 454,\nwe read an extract from the testimony of a Mrs. Bishop: \u201cQ. Were you\never kicked or beaten in the school by\u2014\u2014? A. Yes, sir. I was punished\nup-stairs because I could not learn my lesson. I had had no schooling\nat that time; I could not do much reading; he punished me up-stairs; I\ntold him I could not learn it, unless he could let a girl come up and\nhelp me; I was told to kneel down; I looked around, and he kicked me\nacross the aisle; he pulled me by my dress, and kicked me across the\naisle, and twice across the room; I was put up-stairs before devotions\nwere to come off; I said I was going to tell my mother; he said I could\nnot see my folks again if I did tell her; he was going to give me two\nhundred dollars if I had not said anything; I was sick after this\nkicking; he carried me home himself away from the school; I could not\nmove nor stir; I could not move one eye; I walked on crutches after it;\nit affects me now; affects my gait, so I can\u2019t walk all the time; I\nhave to hire my work done part the time now; when there comes a storm,\nI can\u2019t move, I have to sit still in the house; sometimes I have to\nlie in bed, because it affects me so; I was thirteen years old at that\ntime.\u201d A girl, a new-comer only three days in the school, is ducked,\nstrapped, and locked up two days for laughing in school, p. 629, and\nfurther ill-treated, 639. Another girl dragged by the hair, pounded,\nand dreadfully bruised, 661. Girls ducked and whipped at night, 678.\nGirls called names of supreme contempt by teachers in allusion to their\npast lives, 684, 737, and 39, 71, 317, of vol. ii. A girl taken up at\nnight, and whipped in her night-clothes by male officer, 693. A girl\nis pulled over the desk by the hair, for not singing, 705. A girl is\nimprisoned and fed on bread and water for twenty-three days, 320 of\nvol. ii.\n\nFor instances of girls whipped on the naked back by men, see pp. 61,\n339, 630; girls kicked by men, 318, 328, 345, 348, 354, 360, 631; same\nproved by defence, 41 of vol. ii.; girls dragged by the hair by men,\n231, 347, 348, 636; girls struck with fist by men, 347, 349; black eye\ngiven, 350; marks on bodies, 360, 367, 395, 719; girls taunted about\ntheir former lives, 86, 96, 100, 397, 687, 737, and 317 of vol. ii.;\nterrorism, 269, 270, 305, 371, 424, 425, and 41 of vol. ii.; girls\nducked by men, 92, 94, 97, 102, and 295 of vol. ii.\n\nThe first charge, the most serious that could be brought against\na school of _reform_\u2014\u201ccrimes against chastity, decency, and good\nmorals\u201d\u2014is fearfully sustained. One of the employees, a man of years,\nwho had become notorious for his vulgarity and indecency in both the\nmale and female departments, to both of which he had access, is caught\n_flagrante delicto_. The partner of his sin was one of the female\ninmates, who was sent there to be _reformed_, and they were detected\nby other female inmates of this school of reform (page 75). And again,\n_horribile dictu_, a _teacher_ in the same nursery of _reform_ lived,\n\u201cmonth in and month out,\u201d in criminal conversation with one of the\ninmates of the female department (pages 63, 76), and the appalling fact\nis again proved by the defence (ii. 322). But, more shocking than all\nthis, not only were immodest and indecent conversations held by an\nemployee with the boys and girls, but another fiend in the flesh, an\nofficer of the Providence School of Reform, introduced among the boys\nand taught them habits the most immoral and disgusting, destructive at\nonce of their souls and bodies, of their manhood, and of their temporal\nand eternal happiness. This fact is proved solely by the defence at\npage 321 of vol. ii. The offender was dismissed, but the school still\nexists! Where are Sodom and Gomorrah?\n\nThe evidence for the defence consists chiefly of denials and\n_non-mi-ricordos_ by the officers and employees; but some of the\ncharges are proved by the defence itself, and some of the most damning\nevidence against the institution came from this very quarter. The mayor\nand one of the aldermen declined to take any part in the decision,\nbecause they were members of the board of trustees. Three other\naldermen refused to sign the decision, and gave decisions of their\nown, finding portions of the charges true. Five out of ten of the\njudges sign the decision, which, while finding most of the charges _not\nproved_, strongly inculpates the institution on several of the charges.\nIn it is stated that two instances have occurred of offences against\nchastity, decency, and good morals, on the part of officers and female\ninmates, page 384 of vol. ii.; that knocking down was practised, though\nalleged to have been in self-defence; and that boys were whipped on the\nbare back, 384 of vol. ii.; that girls have had their dresses loosened\nand removed from the upper part of the back and shoulders, leaving only\nthe undergarment on, and thus punished by the (male) superintendent;\nand in a very few cases during the past nine years, when they have, in\nviolation of the rules of the school, made loud noises and disturbances\nin the dormitories at night, they have been punished in their\nnight-clothes (by a male officer) in the presence of a female officer,\npage 385 of vol. ii.; ducking is admitted, page 385.\n\nOne of the dissenting aldermen in his decision says: \u201cBeing fully\naware that the class of inmates sent to this school require a strong\nand efficient discipline, and not feeling competent to say what that\ndiscipline should be, yet I cannot resist the conviction that the\npunishments described have a tendency to _degrade rather than to\nelevate_, not only the one who receives, but the one who administers\nthem.\u201d \u201cI therefore feel bound to protest against such punishments,\nand earnestly hope that some better mode of discipline will speedily\nbe adopted by the managers of this institution\u201d (p. 394, vol. ii.).\nThe superintendent stated on oath that, in case a child sick and _in\nextremis_ required a Catholic priest to be sent for, he would first\ngo and seek the advice of three or four of the trustees before he\nwould admit, even under such circumstances, a Catholic or any other\nclergyman; and on this subject the same alderman remarked: \u201cIn my view,\nany superintendent of this institution who would hesitate to allow the\nconsolations of religion to be administered in the form desired by\nthe child, under such circumstances, should be promptly relieved from\nduty,\u201d page 396 of vol. ii. Another alderman says: \u201cI am of opinion\nthat cruel and unnecessary punishment has been inflicted. I do not\nsuppose that striking with the clenched fist, kicking, or dragging by\nthe hair of the head has been common, but I think it has occurred in\nsome instances,\u201d page 397; and he mentions the case of an \u201cunfortunate\ngirl who seems to have suffered every form of discipline known to this\nschool, from being _ducked_ to being \u2018pushed under the table with the\nfoot.\u2019 If it be said she was vile, I would ask how she came to be? She\nwas but six or seven years of age when she entered this institution.\nNo one is wholly bad at that tender age. She remained under its care\nand influences for _nine years_, and, if she is vicious and dissolute,\nwhy is she so? If, on the other hand, she was insane, is it not painful\nto reflect that such punishments were inflicted on an irresponsible\nchild?\u201d (p. 399.) One of the trustees actually resigned a year before\nthe investigation, rather than be connected with such scenes; he\nstarted an investigation, but it seems to have done no good; and such\nwas the condition of things at the time of this first investigation\nthat the assistant superintendent offered to give one hundred dollars\nto a friend to shield him from being called as a witness.\n\nThe religious instruction given in this institution is _of course_\nunsectarian; everything distinctively Episcopalian is denied to\nEpiscopalian children, everything distinctively Baptist is denied to\nBaptist children, everything distinctively Methodist is denied to\nMethodist children, everything distinctly Presbyterian is denied to\nPresbyterian children, and everything distinctly Catholic is denied to\nCatholic children. Nothing whatever is said tending \u201cto keep children\nin the faith to which they belonged when they entered the school.\u201d \u201cQ.\nDoes not the system of religious instruction tend to bring the children\nto that form of religion which gives to each person the private\njudgment and interpretation of the Scriptures? A. We hope it tends to\nmake them better. Q. Does it not tend to have them choose their own\nBible and their own interpretation of it as the source and principle\nof religion? A. I should hope that it tends to have them accept the\nBible. Q. Do you teach them the doctrine of the private interpretation\nof the Scripture? A. No, sir, not at all. Q. As I understand it, all\nthe religious instruction they get is simply reading from the Bible,\nand no interpretation. They can interpret it just as they please.\nA. They can interpret it just as they please. Sometimes one speaker\ncomes, and sometimes another\u201d (page 234, vol. ii.) ... \u201cQ. Now state\nthe afternoon services on Sunday? A. One of the trustees (they all\nalternate except the mayor) procures a speaker for Sunday afternoon\nto address the scholars. Q. Of what class are those speakers\u2014of any\nparticular or of all classes? A. Since I have been there, I think every\ndenomination has been represented or been invited to speak? Q. Are\nthey particularly members of churches, or laymen, lawyers, doctors,\nor anybody who will give a moral address to the children? A. I could\nnot speak with certainty of the professions. We often have clergymen,\nperhaps oftener than any other class, but not unfrequently men of other\nprofessions, and many times those following no profession to speak in\nconnection with others. We often have more than one speaker\u2014sometimes\nhalf a dozen. Q. These are business men of the city? A. Yes, sir. Q. Do\nyou have lawyers sometimes? A. I think all professions are represented.\nQ. Do you have ministers if you can get them? A. Yes, sir.\u201d And yet in\nthis unsectarianism the most direct sectarianism prevailed. \u201cQ. Do you\nknow what version of the Bible is used? A. It is the common English\ntranslation. Q. (By the mayor) It is the ordinary Bible, is it not?\nA. Yes, sir. (By Mr. Gorman) The _Douay_ is the ordinary one. (By\nMr.\u2014\u2014) We call that an _extraordinary_ one\u201d (page 62, vol. ii.).\n\nNow, we have the Bible without comment, but ministers, lawyers,\ndoctors, and business men are called in every Sunday, sometimes half\na dozen at one time, to give the comments, each according to his own\nview. Every religious denomination was invited, but it does not appear\nthat any Catholic ever accepted the invitation; for, if he accepted, he\nwould leave his Catholicity outside until he finished his unsectarian\ndiscourse. There may be something in common with all the sects which\nsometimes may be called general Protestantism, though they profess to\ncall it unsectarianism; but one thing we know is common to them all,\nand this something is opposition to Catholicity, and the dodge of\nunsectarianism is adroitly invented in order to exclude Catholics from\nenjoying equal rights with Protestants in matters relating to public\neducation and public charities. The state must let religion alone, and\nunsectarians must desist from their disguised effort to unite church\nand state in this country, while it has so strenuously opposed their\nunion in every Catholic country. They know that Catholics can take no\npart in unsectarian teachings, but they would like us to do so, for in\nproportion as we did so would we cease to be Catholics. The Catholic\nview was so admirably expressed by the late Bishop Fitzpatrick, of\nBoston, in his letter in the Eliot School difficulty, that we must give\nit to our readers:\n\n \u201cI. Catholics cannot, under any circumstances, acknowledge, receive,\n and use, as a complete collection and faithful version of the inspired\n books which compose the written Word of God, the English Protestant\n translation of the Bible. Still less can they so acknowledge, accept,\n or use it, when its enforcement as such is coupled expressly with\n the rejection of that version which their own church approves and\n adopts as being correct and authentic; and yet this is required of\n them by law. The law, as administered, holds forth the Protestant\n version to the Catholic child, and says, \u2018Receive this as the Bible.\u2019\n The Catholic child answers, \u2018I cannot so receive it.\u2019 The law, as\n administered, says you must, or else you must be scourged and finally\n banished from the school.\n\n \u201cII. The acceptance and recital of the Decalogue, under the form and\n words in which Protestants clothe it, is offensive to the conscience\n and belief of Catholics, inasmuch as that form and those words\n are viewed by them, and have not unfrequently been used by their\n adversaries, as a means of attack upon certain tenets and practices\n which, under the teachings of the church, they hold as true and sacred.\n\n \u201cIII. The chanting of the Lord\u2019s Prayer, of psalms, of hymns\n addressed to God, performed by many persons in unison, being neither\n a scholastic exercise nor a recreation, can only be regarded as an\n act of public worship\u2014indeed, it is professedly intended as such in\n the regulations which govern our public schools. It would seem that\n the principles which guide Protestants and Catholics, in relation\n to communion in public worship, are widely different. Protestants,\n however diverse may be their religious opinions\u2014Trinitarians, who\n assert that Jesus Christ is true God, and Unitarians, who deny he\n is true God\u2014find no difficulty to offer in brotherhood a blended\n and apparently harmonious worship, and in so doing they give and\n receive mutual satisfaction, mutual edification. The Catholic cannot\n act in this manner. He cannot present himself before the Divine\n presence in what would be for him a merely simulated union of prayer\n and adoration. His church expressly forbids him to do so. She\n considers indifference in matters of religion, indifference as to the\n distinction of positive doctrines in faith, as a great evil which\n promiscuous worship would tend to spread more widely and increase.\n Hence the prohibition of such worship; and the Catholic cannot join in\n it without doing violence to his sense of religious duty.\u201d\n\nNon-sectarianism is the plea upon which those public institutions\njustify their interference with the religious rights of their inmates.\nThey argue that, because this system is acceptable to Protestants of\nevery sect, therefore it must be acceptable to Catholics. Whereas,\non the contrary, what is called unsectarianism is the concentration\nof sectarianism. Unsectarianism is made up of all those points upon\nwhich the sects concur, and is therefore pre-eminently sectarian. It\nis either that or simple deism; for if you take away the distinctive\ntenets of Catholics, Presbyterians, Methodists, Baptists, and of all\nthe distinct sects, there remains nothing but deism. This involves,\nand will inevitably lead to, the denial of revelation; and the very\nScriptures themselves, which Protestantism claims as the sole source of\nreligious teaching, must and will inevitably, if non-sectarianism long\nprevails, be cast away. Is the teaching of deism alone inoffensive to\nChristians? The teaching of a few points, even if agreed upon by all,\nwould be, on account of its exclusiveness, as sectarian as any other\nreligious system\u2014indeed more so; and is subject to an objection not\napplicable to the others, in that it conceals its true nature, and\nassumes a false name: whereas the Catholic Church and the avowed sects\nproclaim their distinctive and exclusive character, and in this at\nleast are truthful and honest. If religious teaching resolves itself\ninto latitudinarianism, it then constitutes a new sect in itself. A\nperfect neutrality, as long as anything positive is taught, is an\nimpossibility. This very selection, which makes up this professed\nunsectarianism, is an anti-Catholic principle. It proclaims the right\nof man to determine all things in religion by his own private judgment,\nand in this consists the distinctive feature of Protestantism.\n\nWe have thus shown that non-sectarianism, as a system of religious\nteaching, is an impossibility. We now propose to show that in our\nschools, asylums, reformatories, etc., it is in practice, as well as\nin theory, an impossibility. We will show this, too, by Protestant and\nunsectarian authority. At p. 264, vol. ii., _Providence Reform School\nInvestigation_, we read from the testimony of a Protestant Episcopal\ntrustee, who resigned on account, in part, of this impossibility:\n\n \u201cQ. Didn\u2019t you know that no sectarian instruction was admitted inside\n that institution? A. I don\u2019t know what you call sectarianism. It is\n pretty hard to say down in that school. We have had everything taught\n and preached there. Q. Was not this an Episcopal book? A. It was a\n book of devotions and prayers\u2014a work by a divine of the English\n Church. It was an Episcopal book. Q. Do you mean to say that a book of\n Episcopal exercises is or is not a sectarian work? A. I am a member of\n the Episcopal Church; we do not call ourselves a sect. Q. Didn\u2019t you\n know at the time you gave this book to the teacher that it was against\n the rules of the school to have the doctrines of the true church given\n out there, or of any church? A. I had never supposed it was against\n the rules of that institution, and I should have been unwilling to\n have sat for one hour as its trustee if I had supposed that I was\n myself forbidden to pray, or to advise others to pray there, through\n Jesus Christ, our Lord; and if the prayers I indicated, marked, and\n numbered in that book are prayers forbidden in the Providence Reform\n School or any other school, I have for the first time to learn what\n is sectarianism. They are prayers which every Christian, whether he\n belongs to any one of the various organizations of Christians in\n this or any other country or not, would, I think, be willing to use\n morning, noon, and night. Q. Didn\u2019t you know that the by-laws place\n religious instruction exclusively under the care of the superintendent\n of the school\u201d [who is a layman]?\n\nThe Hon. John C. Spencer, Secretary of State and Superintendent of\nSchools in 1840, said in his report to the New York Legislature:\n\u201cThere must be some degree of religious instruction, and there can be\n_none_ without partaking more or less of a _sectarian character_. _The\nobjection itself proceeds from a sectarian principle_, and assumes the\npower to control that which it is neither right nor practicable to\nsubject to any denomination. Religious doctrines of vital interest will\nbe inculcated.\u201d\n\nAnother who has discussed this question of sectarianism with force and\ngreat plainness of speech is the Rev. Dr. Spear, of Brooklyn, in the\ncolumns of the _Independent_, thus:\n\n \u201cIt is quite true that the Bible, as the foundation of religious\n belief, is not sectarian as between those who adopt it; but it is\n true that King James\u2019 Version of the Holy Scriptures is sectarian as\n to the Catholic, as the Douay is to the Protestant, or as the Baptist\n Version would be to all Protestants but Baptists. It is equally true\n that the New Testament is sectarian as to the Jew, and the whole Bible\n is equally so as to those who reject its authority in any version....\n There is no sense or candor in a mere play on words here. It is not\n decent in a Protestant ecclesiastic, who has no more rights than the\n humblest Jew, virtually to say to the latter: \u2018You are nothing but\n a good-for-nothing Jew; you Jews have no claim to be regarded as\n a religious sect, or included in the law of state impartiality as\n between sects which Protestants monopolize for their special benefit.\n Away with your Jewish consciences! You pay your tax bills, and send\n your children to the public schools, and we will attend to their\n _Christian_ education.\u2019 It is not decent to say this to any class of\n citizens who dissent from what is known as Protestant Christianity.\n It is simply a supercilious pomposity of which Protestants ought to\n be ashamed. It may please the bigotry it expresses, but a sensible\n man must either pity or despise it. In the name of justice we protest\n against this summary mode of disposing of the school question in\n respect to any class of American citizens. It is simply an insult.\u201d\n\nAgain, Dr. Anderson, President of the Rochester University, one of the\nfirst men in the Baptist Church in these United States, addressing the\nBaptist Educational Convention in the city of New York, says:\n\n \u201c_It is impossible for an earnest teacher to avoid giving out\n constantly religious and moral impulses and thought. He must of\n necessity set forth his notions about God, the soul, conscience, sin,\n the future life, and Divine Revelation._\n\n \u201cIf he promises not to do so, he will fail to keep his word\u201d\u2014these\n are true words\u2014\u201cor his teachings in science, or literature, or\n history will be miserably shallow and inadequate. Our notions of God\n and the moral order form, in spite of ourselves, the base line which\n affects all our movements and constructions of science, literature,\n and history. Inductions in physics, classifications in natural\n history, necessitate a living law eternal in the thought of God.\u201d\n\nThese gentlemen speak of religious instruction, only inasmuch as it\nis connected with the education of youth, and yet their logical minds\nshowed them the absurdity of unsectarianism. What, then, could they\nhave said of visionary men attempting direct teaching of religion\nwithout sectarianism?\n\nThe following extract is too pertinent to our subject and too clever\nto be omitted, as an illustration of the impossibility of teaching\nreligion upon the unsectarian system:\n\n\n\u201cUNSECTARIANISM.\u201d\n\nSOME OF THE DIFFICULTIES OF A TEACHER IN A MIXED SCHOOL.\n\n  (From the New Orleans Morning Star.)\n\n We find the following in our San Francisco contemporary, the _Pacific\n Churchman_, taken originally from the _London Church Review_, an organ\n of the Church of England. The editor of the _Churchman_ remarks that\n \u201cwith some changes it will equally apply to some of our _un_-sectarian\n schools.\u201d As far as the _Churchman_ goes against _un_-sectarian\n schools in this country, we are with it. This seems to be one scene\n taken from others. Considering that it conveys a good argument for us,\n our readers will excuse the term \u201cRomanism,\u201d thrown in as a reproach.\n We quote:\n\n The schoolroom of a boarding-school. Time, the hour of religious\n instruction. Bible to be read and explained without inculcating\n the dogmas of any particular denomination. Teacher certificated,\n unsectarian, highly conscientious. Class consisting of children from\n thirteen down to six or seven, and of various grades, from respectable\n poor to gutter children. Schoolroom and teacher span new. Teacher a\n little nervous. Children\u2014some looking curiously about them, some\n disposed to loll and idle, some attentive. Teacher opens the great\n Bible, and begins to read St. Matthew ii., as being a narrative likely\n to interest the auditory, and easy to explain in an undenominational\n sense. First, however, a little preliminary explanation is necessary.\n\n _Teacher._ You must know, my dear children, that Joseph and Mary\n were two very good people who lived a very great many years ago in a\n country far away from London, and I am going to read to you about them\n and their son (reads slowly verse 1. of the chapter).\n\n _Ragged Arab_ (not accustomed to observe much ceremony). Please, sir,\n who\u2019s that?\n\n _Teacher_ (aghast, and wishing to gain time). Whom do you mean, my boy?\n\n _Arab._ That there Jesus.\n\n _Teacher_ (aside). [How can this question be answered in an\n undenominational sense? This is the religious difficulty, full blown.\n If I say \u201ca good man,\u201d that will hardly do, for I know several of the\n boys are the children of the church people and Romanists; and if I say\n \u201cthe son of God,\u201d that won\u2019t do, for Tommy Markham is a Unitarian, or,\n at any rate, his parents are; besides, such a dogmatic statement is\n sectarian.] (Aloud.) I will explain all about him when I have finished\n the chapter.\n\n Continues to read. The class listens with various degrees of attention\n until the 11th verse is finished, and then\u2014\n\n _A Boy._ Please, sir, who\u2019s Mary? The mother of the little baby,\n wasn\u2019t she?\n\n _Teacher._ Yes; she was his mother.\n\n _Boy._ Oh! and what does \u201cwusshupped\u201d mean?\n\n _Teacher._ It means paying great respect, kneeling down and bowing, as\n we should to God.\n\n _Another Boy_ (better taught than boy No. 1, and jumping at once to a\n sectarian conclusion). Then, that there baby was God, sir?\n\n _Tommy Markham_ (stoutly). No, that he wasn\u2019t!\n\n _Teacher._ Silence, boys, the lesson cannot go on if you talk and\n quarrel. (Struck by a bright idea.) You know that a great many people\n believe that he was God; but some do not; but we must not quarrel\n because we do not all think alike.\n\n _First Boy_ (disagreeably curious). Well, but what do _you_ think,\n master?\n\n [Terrible dilemma! Teacher hesitates. At length, desperately]\u2014\n\n _I_ think he was God.\n\n _Boy._ Don\u2019t yer _know_ it?\n\n _Teacher_ (aside). [Perverse youth. Pest take his questions and him\n too! If I\u2019d known what \u201cunsectarian\u201d teaching involved, I\u2019d sooner\n have swept a crossing. What _will_ the Board say? Why, the very\n essence of our principle is to _know_ nothing and think anything. But\n you can\u2019t make the boys reason.] (Aloud.) My dear boy, it is very\n difficult to say what we know. I can only teach you what I think, and\n teach you how to be good and do what is right, and obey all that God\n tells you to do in this Holy Book.\n\n _A Boy_ (interrupting, _sans c\u00e9r\u00e9monie_). Did God write that there\n book?\n\n _Teacher._ Yes; and he tells us what we are to do to get to heaven;\n and his son came, as you see, as a little child, and when he grew up,\n he preached and told us how we ought to love one another, and all we\n ought to do to lead a good life.\n\n _Boy_ (interested). And was he a _very_ good chap?\n\n _Teacher_ (a little shocked). Yes, of course; you know he\n was\u2014[pauses; his haste had almost betrayed him into a dogmatic\n explanation, and the forbidden word \u201cknow\u201d had actually passed his\n lips].\n\n _Another Boy_ (with vexatiously retentive memory). You said afore,\n master, that he was God, and the gentlemen wusshupped him\u2014was he\n _reelly_ God?\n\n _Teacher_ (boldly, taking the bull by the horns). Yes.\n\n _Boy._ And did God\u2019s mother wusshup him too, master?\n\n _Teacher._ You must not call her the mother of\u2014[interrupts himself;\n recollects that it is as sectarian to deny to the Blessed Virgin the\n title of Mother of God as to bestow it upon her; continues]: yes, she\n worshipped him too; but I want you to learn about the things that he\n told us to do.\n\n _Another Boy_ (doggedly). But we wants to know fust who he be, \u2018cause\n we ain\u2019t to do jist what a nobody tells us; only, if that there\n gentlemen be God, there\u2019s somethin\u2019 in it, \u2018cause I\u2019ve \u2018eard parson\n say, at old school, where I was once, that what God said was all right.\n\n _Teacher_ (aside). [Certainly that poor Arab has got the root of\n denominational education. It is, I begin to think, a failure to\n attempt the teaching of morality without first making manifest what\n that morality is based upon, and the moment you come to _that_ you are\n in for denominationalism at once. (Wipes his brow and continues)\u2014\n\n Of course, my boy, you must know why it is right to tell the truth and\n do what is right, but then if I tell you God commanded all this and\n read to you what his Son said about it, there is no need for troubling\n so much about\u2014about\u2014\n\n _Boy_ (interrupting). Oh! but I likes to ax questions, and it ain\u2019t no\n sort of use you telling us it\u2019s wrong to lie\u2014nobody at \u2018ome ever told\n me _that_\u2014if yer don\u2019t say who said it, \u2018cause I ain\u2019t bound to mind\n what _you_ say, is I?\n\n [_Teacher_ checks the indignant \u201cIndeed you are\u201d that rises to his\n lips, arrested by the terrible and conscientious thought whether it\n be not a new and strange form of denominationalism for the teacher\n to make his own dictum infallible in matters of morality. Would not\n this be to elevate into a living, personal dogma an unsectarian\n teacher?\u2014a singular clash, surely. Teacher shivers at the bare idea.\n Soliloquizes: How can I meet this knock-down reasoning? These Arabs\n are so rebellious, so perverse; why must they ask so many questions,\n and require to know the why and wherefore of everything? (Glances at\n the clock.) Ah! thank my stars, the time is almost up! but this dodge\n won\u2019t do every time. I\u2019m afraid I shall have to give up the whole\n thing as a bad job.] (Aloud.) We have only five minutes more to-day,\n lads, so you must let me finish the chapter without asking any more\n questions.\n\n (Boys relapse into indifferent silence. Curtain falls.)\n\nIn conclusion, we insist that the state shall obey its own\nconstitution, and let religion alone. In purely state institutions,\nthe consciences must be left free, and no experiments with religion\ncan be tried. Every child in such institutions must enjoy liberty of\nconscience and free access to its own ministers and sacraments.\n\nIf any sect undertakes to help the state to do its work, by\nestablishing reformatories, protectories, and asylums for its own\nchildren, excluding all other religions and the children of other\nreligions, we shall not object to its receiving a just _per capita_\nfrom the state; and under this system we claim the same and no more for\npurely Catholic institutions doing the work of the state in respect to\nCatholic children. If, however, sectarian, unsectarian, or non-Catholic\ninstitutions receive support from the state, and receive the children\nof the Catholic Church and of other persuasions, they must be conducted\nupon the same principle with state institutions, and in them \u201cno law\nrespecting the establishment of a religion\u201d must be made or enforced,\nbut the most perfect liberty of conscience must prevail. We ask no\nspecial favors for ourselves or our church; all we claim is perfect\nequality before the law and the state, and the full benefit of that\nfair play which we extend to others.\n\n\n\n\nDANTE\u2019S PURGATORIO.\n\nCANTO SEVENTH.\n\n [Still among souls, on the outside of Purgatory, who have delayed\n repentance, Dante, in this Canto, is conducted to those who had\n postponed spiritual duties from having been involved in state affairs.\n The persons introduced are the Emperor Rodolph, first of that Austrian\n house of Hapsburg, Ottocar, King of Bohemia, Philip III. of France,\n Henry of Navarre, Peter III. of Aragon, Charles I. of Naples, Henry\n III. of England, and the Marquis William of Monferrat. To know more\n of these men the curious reader must consult more volumes than we\n have space to mention in this magazine. He may spare much research,\n however, and find the most accessible information by turning to\n the interesting notes which Mr. Longfellow has appended to his\n translation.\u2014TRANS.]\n\n\n  THREE times and four these greetings, glad and free,\n    Had been repeated, when Sordello\u2019s shade\n  Drew from embrace, and said: \u201cNow, who are ye?\u201d\n    And thereupon my Guide this answer made:\n  \u201cEre to this mountain those just souls, to whom\n    Heavenward to climb was given, had guided been,\n  My bones Octavian gathered to the tomb.\n    Virgil I am, and for none other sin\n  But want of faith was I from heaven shut out.\u201d\n    Like one who suddenly before him sees\n  Something that wakes his wonder, whence, in doubt,\n    He says, _It is not_; then believing, _\u2019Tis!_\n  Sordello stood, then back to him without\n    Lifting his eyelids, turned and clasped his knees.\n  \u201cO glory of the Latin race!\u201d he cried,\n    \u201cThrough whom to such a height our language rose,\n  Oh! of my birthplace everlasting pride,\n    What merit or grace on me thy sight bestows?\n  Tell me, unless to hear thee is denied,\n    Com\u2019st thou from hell, or where hast thou repose?\u201d\n\nVIRGIL.\n\n  He to this answered: \u201cGrace from heaven moved me,\n    And leads me still: the circles every one\n  Of sorrow\u2019s kingdom have I trod to thee.\n    My sight is barred from that supernal Sun,\n  Whom I knew late, and thou desir\u2019st to see,\n    Not for I did, but for I left undone.\n  A place below there is where no groans rise\n    From torment, sad alone with want of light,\n  Where the lament sounds not like moan, but sighs.\n    The little innocents whom Death\u2019s fell bite\n  Snatched, ere their sin was purified, are there:\n    And there I dwell with guiltless ones that still\n  The three most holy virtues did not wear,\n    Though all the rest they knew, and did fulfil.\n  But if thou knowest, and may\u2019st us apprise,\n    Tell us how we most speedily may find\n  Where Purgatory\u2019s actual entrance lies.\u201d\n\nSORDELLO.\n\n    \u201cWe have,\u201d he answered, \u201cno set place assigned;\n  Around and upward I am free to stray;\n    My guidance far as I may go I lend:\n  But see how fast already fails the day!\n    And in the night none ever can ascend:\n  Best, then, we think of some good resting-place.\n    Some souls there be, removed here to the right,\n  Whom, if thou wilt, I\u2019ll show thee face to face,\n    And thou shalt know them not without delight.\u201d\n  \u201cHow, then,\u201d said Virgil\u2014\u201cshould a soul aspire\n    To climb by night, would other check be found?\n  Or his own weakness hinder his desire?\u201d\n    And good Sordello drew along the ground\n  His finger, saying: \u201cLook! not even this line\n    May\u2019st thou pass over when the sun hath gone:\n  Not that aught else, though, would thy power confine,\n    Save want of light, from journeying upwards on:\n  Darkness makes impotent thy will. By night\n    One may go back again, and grope below,\n  And, while the horizon shuts the day from sight,\n    Wander about the hillside to and fro.\u201d\n  My Master then, as \u2018twere in wonder, spake:\n    \u201cThen lead us thitherward where thou hast said,\n  That we in lingering shall such pleasure take.\u201d\n    Nor had we forward far advanced our tread,\n  When I perceived that on the mountain-side\n    A valley opened, just like valleys here.\n  \u201cWe will go forward,\u201d said our shadowy guide,\n    \u201cWhere on the slope yon hollow doth appear;\n  There let us wait the dawning of the day.\u201d\n    \u2018Twixt steep and level went a winding path\n  Which led us where the vale-side dies away\n    Till less than half its height the margin hath.\n\n  Gold and fine silver, ceruse, cochineal,\n    India\u2019s rich wood, heaven\u2019s lucid blue serene,[15]\n  Or glow that emeralds freshly broke reveal,\n    Had all been vanquished by the varied sheen\n  Of this bright valley set with shrubs and flowers,\n    As less by greater. Nor had Nature there\n  Only in painting spent herself, but showers\n    Of odors manifold made sweet the air\n  With one strange mingling of confused perfume.\n    And there new spirits chanting I descried\u2014\n  \u201cSalve Regina!\u201d\u2014seated on the bloom\n   And verdure sheltered by the dingle side.\n\nSORDELLO.\n\n  \u201cEre yon low sun shall nestle in his bed\u201d\n    (Began the Mantuan who had brought us here),\n  \u201cDesire not down among them to be led;\n   You better will observe how they appear,\n  Both face and action, from this bank, instead\n    Of mixing with them in the dale. That one\n  Who sits the highest, looking, \u2018mid the throng,\n    As though some duty he had left undone,\n  Who moves his lips not with the rest in song,\n    Was Rodolph, Emperor, he who might have healed\n  Those wounds which Italy have so far spent\n    That slow relief all other helpers yield.\n  The other, that on soothing him seems bent,\n    Once ruled the region whence those waters are\n  Which Moldau bears to Elbe, and Elbe the sea.\n    His name was Ottocar, and better far,\n  Yea, in his very swaddling-robe, was he\n    Than Vincislaus, his big-bearded son\n  Whom luxury and ease have made so gross.\n    And he of slender nose, who, with the one\n  So bland of aspect, seems in consult close,\n    Died flying, and in dust his lilies laid.\n  Look! how he beats the breast he cannot calm:\n    Mark too his mate there sighing, who hath made\n  For his pale cheek a pillow of his palm!\n    One is the Father of that pest of France,\n  Father-in-law the other: well they know\n    His lewd, base life! this misery is the lance\n  That to the core cuts either of them so.\n    And he so stout of limb, in unison\n  Singing with him there of the manly nose,\n    Of every virtue put the girdle on;\n  And if that youth behind him in repose\n    Had after him reigned in his Father\u2019s stead,\n  Virtue from vase to vase had been well poured,\n    Which of the other heirs may not be said.\n  Frederic and James now o\u2019er those kingdoms lord,\n    In whom that better heritage lies dead.\n  Rarely doth human goodness rise again\n    Through the tree\u2019s branches: He hath willed it so\n  Who gives this boon of excellence, that men\n    Should ask of him who can alone bestow.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNot more these words of mine at Peter glance\n    Than him he sings with (of the large nose there)\n  Whose death Apulia mourneth, and Prov\u00e8nce,\n    So ill the tree doth with its stock compare!\n  Even so much more of her good lord his wife\n    Constance yet vaunts herself, than Margaret may,\n  Or Beatrice. That king of simplest life,\n    Harry of England, sitting there survey\n  All by himself: his branches are more blest!\n    The one who sits there with uplifted gaze\n  Among the group, but lower than the rest,\n    Is Marquis William, in whose cause the frays\n  Of Alexandria have with grief oppressed\n    Both Monferrato and the Canavese.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE RUSSIAN IDEA.\n\nFROM THE GERMAN OF CONRAD VON BOLANDEN.\n\n\u201cWe must obey the emperor rather than God.\u201d\n\n\nI.\n\nA GOOD MOTHER.\n\nTHE Baroness Olga von Sempach was respected, wealthy, benevolent, and\ntherefore loved by the poor. When, in the summer, she visited her\nestates in Posen, to breathe for some months the healthy country air,\nthe poor of that place would exclaim: \u201cOur mother has come again!\u201d\n\nThe baroness had, however, seemed lately to be greatly depressed, and\nher sad countenance had excited the sympathy of every one.\n\n\u201cOur mother is sick,\u201d said the poor. \u201cHer face is pale, and her kind\neyes look as though she wept often. We will pray for our benefactress,\nthat God may preserve her to us.\u201d\n\nAnd in the hours of want and suffering, many hands were raised in\nsupplication to heaven for their mother Olga; but the eyes of the\nnoble lady continued to be dim with weeping, and her sorrow seemed to\nincrease daily.\n\nShe was sitting, one morning, in a room of her palace; her hands\nwere clasped together, and she gazed absently before her, while tear\nafter tear streamed down her cheeks. Opposite to her on the wall\nhung a crucifix, upon which she would often fix her eyes; but her\nsufferings seemed to be those of the spirit rather than of the body.\nThe affliction of soul, as seen in her distressed face, had something\nsublime and venerable in it, for it was the grief of a mother.\n\nThe sound of approaching footsteps are heard. The baroness made\nan effort to conceal her agitation; she wiped away her tears, and\nendeavored to receive with a smile the young man, who, upon entering,\nsaluted her.\n\n\u201cI am rejoiced, dear Edward, that you have come to visit us at our\nretired summer-residence,\u201d said she. \u201cThe invigorating air of the\ncountry will be of great service to you. Your incessant application to\nstudy is injurious to health, and you must therefore remain with us for\nseveral weeks.\u201d\n\nHe hardly seemed to hear her words of welcome, so lost was he in\nastonishment at the appearance of his noble hostess.\n\n\u201cI must ask your pardon, gracious lady, for having disturbed your quiet\nhousehold last night at such a late hour,\u201d said he; \u201cbut the train was\ndelayed, and I could not find a carriage to bring me here.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo formal excuse is necessary, Edward! Have you spoken yet with my\nson?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly a few words. He is writing to his betrothed.\u201d\n\nThese latter words made such an impression upon the baroness that it\nseemed as though a sword had pierced her heart. The emotion did not\nescape the observation of the young gentleman, and, together with her\nsad aspect, convinced him that her son was in some way the cause of her\nunhappiness.\n\n\u201cO sorrowful mother that I am!\u201d she exclaimed, \u201cto see my Adolph, my\nonly child, rushing into certain misfortune, perhaps into eternal ruin,\nand I unable to help or save him\u2014how it pains and terrifies me!\u201d\n\nHer lips trembled, and she found difficulty in preserving her\nself-command.\n\n\u201cYou alarm me, dear baroness! Why should Adolph fall into such deep\nmisery because of his marriage as you seem to predict? He loves\nAlexandra truly and sincerely. He praises her noble qualities, her\nmagnificent beauty, her accomplishments, and therefore I see every\nprospect of a happy life for them both.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlexandra is beautiful, very beautiful!\u201d replied the baroness sadly;\n\u201cbut this exterior beauty, perishable and worthless as it is, unless\nunited with nobility of mind as well as virtue, blinds my son.\nAlexandra\u2019s personal loveliness prevents him from seeing the ugliness\nof her heart, mind, and spirit.\u201d\n\nThe young professor seemed really perplexed. He knew that the baroness\nwas an admirable judge of character, and he loved his friend.\n\n\u201cAdolph wrote to me in his last letter that Alexandra is the daughter\nof a Russian nobleman named Rasumowski, who fills the distinguished\nposition of governor of a province in Poland. I should think that the\ndaughter of a man to whom the Russian government has confided such a\ntrust would resemble her father.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is his counterpart,\u201d replied the Baroness von Sempach; \u201cand her\nfather is the incorporate spirit of the Russian form of government;\nhe is imperious, proud, tyrannical, and utterly destitute of feeling.\nYou know the inhumanities practised by Russia upon Catholic Poland. An\nendless succession of oppressive laws completely crushed the unhappy\nPoles, from whom everything was taken\u2014liberty, religion, property,\nand life. In this atmosphere of cruel tyranny and injustice Alexandra\nhas grown up. From her childhood she has breathed an air which has\nstifled all the gentle emotions of the heart. In a word, Alexandra is\na thorough Russian. How, then, can my son, with his respect for the\nrights of man, with his enthusiastic love of freedom with his studious\ndisposition of mind, and his warm heart\u2014how can he be happy in the\npossession of such a wife? Never! A terrible awakening, bitter sorrow,\nand lasting misfortune will soon poison the life of my child.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you, dear madame! Why have you not expressed your fears to\nAdolph?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have done so often and urgently; but his blind passion for Alexandra\nmakes him deaf to all my representations.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf,\u201d said Edward, after some reflection, \u201cwe could only succeed in\nletting Adolph have a closer insight into Alexandra\u2019s nature and\nspiritual life, I am sure that he would turn with aversion from her.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut in this lies the difficulty, dear Edward. The Russians understand\nwell how to conceal by an artificial gloss of refinement their real\nspiritual deformity.\u201d\n\n\u201cNotwithstanding all this, the mask must be torn from the face of the\nRussian lady, in order to save Adolph. I know what to do! My plan will\nsucceed!\u201d exclaimed the professor.\n\n\u201cWhat do you intend doing, Edward?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will enlighten my friend Adolph in regard to Russian manners. Do not\nquestion me any further, dear madame, but confide in me!\u201d said he, with\na cheerful face. \u201cWipe away your tears, and have courage, noble mother!\u201d\n\nHe bowed and then sought the presence of his host. Adolph, a stately\nyoung man with a kind face and the expressive eyes of his mother, had\njust concluded a letter to his betrothed.\n\n\u201cHave you at last finished writing?\u201d asked Edward. \u201cYou lovers never\nknow when to stop. I wonder what you have to say to each other day\nafter day?\u201d\n\n\u201cA heart that loves is inexhaustible,\u201d replied Adolph. \u201cI could write\nten letters a day, and not say all I wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it,\u201d said Edward, nodding his head.\n\n\u201cWhat do you know?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe readiness of love to make sacrifices,\u201d replied his friend.\n\nAdolph laughed aloud.\n\n\u201cThe idea of your understanding what it is to love! When you begin to\nlove, the world will come to an end!\u201d he exclaimed good-humoredly. \u201cAs\nthe city of Metz has inscribed over her gates, so also can you write\nupon your forehead, \u2018No one has ever conquered me.\u2019 Although you speak\nwith great wisdom about many things, you know nothing of love.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I am of the opposite opinion,\u201d said Edward, looking with his\nbrilliant eyes at the laughing face of his friend. \u201cYour love is about\nsix months old, but mine has lasted for ten years; it commenced when I\nwas sixteen. My love has been put to the test, and is still as enduring\nas it was in the beginning. Your young love of only six months\u2019\nduration must, however, be tried as yet. How will it be when ten years\nhave passed away, and Alexandra\u2019s beauty has faded? My beloved, on the\ncontrary, never grows old. She is always young and beautiful, like her\nFather, the eternal fountain of all knowledge\u2014like God; for my beloved\nis\u2014Knowledge.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou malicious fellow, to remind me of Alexandra\u2019s future wrinkles! I\ndo not care, however, for my betrothed is at present the handsomest\ngirl living.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not deny the fact,\u201d said Edward. \u201cAnd if you will introduce\nme into the much-to-be-envied atmosphere which the beautiful Russian\nbreathes, you will oblige me and my beloved very much.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not understand you!\u201d\n\n\u201cI wish, in other words, to know something of Russian affairs by means\nof my own observations,\u201d replied Edward. \u201cI would like to make a study\nof her government for the benefit of the Germans.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor the benefit of the Germans?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, indeed; for it is a well-known fact that the Russian system of\ngovernment is to be gradually introduced into the German Empire. A\nbeginning has already been made by enacting the famous law against the\nJesuits and kindred orders. Alexandra\u2019s father is the highest official\nof his district. Through him I could easily obtain a peep into state\nmatters, if you would recommend me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith the greatest pleasure, my friend!\u201d exclaimed Adolph, springing\nfrom his chair in joyful surprise. \u201cWe will go together. I will\nintroduce you myself to the governor, and, while you labor in the\ninterest of your ever-youthful beloved, I will devote myself to\nAlexandra.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\nTHE PLETI.\n\nTwo days later, the friends were sojourning in the Rasumowski palace,\na stately building, formerly the property of a noble Polish family\nwhose only son now languished in Siberia. When the guests arrived, the\ngovernor was absent, but his daughter received them with the greatest\nhospitality. Edward found the youthful Russian lady very beautiful in\nappearance, but his keen eyes soon detected beneath the surface of\nher charming exterior a spirit of such moral deformity that he became\nreally alarmed in regard to the fate which threatened his friend if he\npersisted in uniting himself to such a being.\n\n\u201cOh! what joy! What an agreeable surprise!\u201d exclaimed Alexandra.\n\u201cIt is, in truth, an imperial joy! And papa also will be imperially\ndelighted to see you and your friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs your father absent, Alexandra?\u201d asked Adolph.\n\n\u201cOnly for a few hours. He is with a distinguished gentleman from\nBerlin. I expect him any moment, and his surprise will be really\nimperial.\u201d\n\nThe professor seemed astonished at her language. He availed himself of\nthe first suitable opportunity to satisfy his desire for knowledge.\n\n\u201cPardon me, mademoiselle; you use the word imperial in a manner which\nis incomprehensible to me\u2014you speak of a really imperial joy, of a\ntruly imperial surprise. Will you permit me to ask you why you make use\nof this peculiar expression?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you had ever travelled through the holy Russian Empire,\u201d she\nreplied, with a haughty look, \u201cyou would know that we use the word\nimperial in the same sense as you in Germany say divine. Are you amazed\nat that?\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed, mademoiselle,\u201d answered the professor calmly, \u201cI never\nimagined that the words imperial and divine could be synonymous, for\nthe reason that there is an infinite difference between the emperor and\nGod.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is your view of the subject, but we think differently in our holy\nempire,\u201d replied the arrogant beauty. \u201cIn Russia, the emperor is the\nmost exalted of beings; he is the autocrat of all Russia, and upon his\ndominions the sun never sets. If we wish to express the highest degree\nof joy, of surprise, of pleasure, or of beauty\u201d\u2014and she threw her head\nproudly back\u2014\u201cthen we say an imperial joy, an imperial pleasure, an\nimperial beauty!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am greatly indebted to you for this interesting explanation,\u201d said\nthe professor, bowing low.\n\nAt this moment, the sound of an approaching carriage was heard.\n\n\u201cThey have arrived!\u201d said Alexandra. \u201cWhat a pity that our\ndistinguished visitor from Berlin makes it necessary for papa to absent\nhimself so often!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour company, dear Alexandra, is a charming substitute for your\nfather\u2019s absence,\u201d said Adolph von Sempach.\n\nTwo loud male voices in animated conversation resounded through the\ncorridor. Alexandra ran to open the door of the salon.\n\n\u201cPapa, who do you think is here? You will be delighted.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is it? Can it be Prince von Bismarck?\u201d replied a rough voice, and\nthe governor entered the room. He was an elegantly dressed gentleman,\nof stout appearance, and wore a light mustache; but his rubicund\ncountenance, which plainly betokened an unrestrained appetite, was\nalmost repulsive, on account of the cruel look in his eyes. The visitor\nfrom Berlin followed him; he was a tall, broad-shouldered man, with a\nbald head, sharp eyes, a heavy mustache, which overshadowed an ugly\nmouth, and with features not less disagreeable than were those of the\nRussian.\n\n\u201cOh, Baron von Sempach? Is it possible!\u201d exclaimed the governor,\npressing the hand of his future son-in-law. \u201cIt is really imperial!\u201d\n\n\u201cMy friend Edward Beck, Professor of History,\u201d said Adolph, introducing\nhis travelling companion.\n\nThe untitled name seemed to displease the Russian, for he looked almost\nwith contempt at the stranger, and returned his bow with a scarcely\nperceptible nod of the head. Von Sempach noticed this reception of his\nfriend, and, although very angry, hastened to pacify the ill-humor of\nhis proud host.\n\n\u201cI must inform you, governor,\u201d said he, in a whisper, \u201cthat my friend\nEdward Beck occupies a distinguished social position; and not only\nthat\u2014he is the owner of vast estates, and the possessor of two\nmillions of guilders.\u201d\n\n\u201cI feel highly honored at your presence in my house, Herr Beck,\u201d said\nthe now polite Russian. \u201cAllow me to introduce to you my esteemed\nguest, Herr Schulze, of Berlin.\u201d\n\nThe tall Prussian made a desperate effort to smile, and to force his\nrigid, military figure to return the professor\u2019s bow.\n\n\u201cThe visit of my friend to your country has, at the same time, a\nscientific object in view,\u201d said Adolph. \u201cHe desires to learn something\nof Russian affairs by personal observation. You will therefore oblige\nme very much, Governor Rasumowski, if by means of your high official\nposition you consent to further his wishes in this respect.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a happy coincidence!\u201d replied the governor, with a significant\nglance at the gentleman from Berlin. \u201cHerr Schulze has come for the\nsame purpose. He also seeks to inform himself in regard to the glorious\nadministration of state and social affairs in our holy empire; but of\ncourse with a different motive from that of Herr Beck, whose researches\nare of a purely historical nature.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe knowledge of which I am in pursuit is for practical ends,\u201d said\nHerr Schulze, assuming a learned air. \u201cI wish to examine and see if the\nadmirably constructed machinery of the Russian government cannot be\nintroduced with advantage into the new German Empire.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am rejoiced to hear you speak as you do,\u201d replied Beck; \u201cfor your\nopinion in regard to the policy now in force throughout the new German\nEmpire corresponds with mine. Since the last Diet, it has become\nevident to me that in future Germany must be governed as Russia now\nis. The map of Europe,\u201d he added, with a meaning smile intended for\nRasumowski, \u201cwould then not only have a Russian Poland, but also a\nGerman Russia.\u201d\n\n\u201cRejoice at such a beneficial change, gentlemen!\u201d exclaimed the\ngovernor. \u201cAll nations can learn from and profit by the example of\nour holy Russian Empire. In no country upon earth is there a stronger\ngovernment, and nowhere has the absurd idea of liberty taken less root,\nthan in the immense territory of the czar. Of course, in Germany,\nsome little concessions must be made at first, until an iron-bound\nconstitution, like that of Russia, can be formed\u2014above all, the\ninferior German princes must be set aside.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe beginning has been already made; it is only necessary to continue\nour efforts,\u201d replied the Berlin gentleman.\n\n\u201cSee with what regularity everything proceeds with us,\u201d asserted\nRasumowski. \u201cAll the wheels of state are controlled by the will of one\nman, of our gracious sovereign, the emperor\u201d\u2014and he made a reverence\nbefore the marble statue of the czar. \u201cWhoever does not obey the will\nof the sovereign will be surely crushed into atoms.\u201d\n\nA servant announced dinner. The party entered the dining-room, where\na magnificent banquet was served. The whole attention of Adolph was\nabsorbed by Alexandra, and Edward saw with deep regret his burning\npassion for a creature who was unworthy of his noble-minded friend.\n\n\u201cAs I said before, gentlemen, with us everything moves with\nregularity,\u201d said Rasumowski. \u201cWe do not permit the least\ncontradiction. The word liberty has no meaning with us; for\nunconditional obedience is with us the fundamental law of the empire,\nand whoever does not wish to obey must go to Siberia.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs far as I can understand, there does not exist in Russia any\nfundamental law of state,\u201d said Beck. \u201cOr am I wrong?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; you are right. We know nothing about it. The sovereign law is the\nwill of the emperor. Nothing but what the emperor commands has legal\npower. The meeting of Deputies, Chambers, and of Diets is unheard of in\nRussia. The almighty will of the czar answers instead of it. All laws\nand decrees, no matter how long they have existed, can be abolished\nby the emperor with one stroke of the pen. To him, as the sovereign,\neverything belongs: the country and the people, the peasants and the\nnobility, the church and the state. In fact, it can be said that the\nonly fundamental law of state in the holy Russian Empire is absolute\nobedience to the will of the czar.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcellent!\u201d said Schulze. \u201cIf we had only made the same progress in\nour new German Empire!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is to be questioned whether this manner of government can be\nintroduced into Germany,\u201d replied Beck. \u201cThere the people have a will\nwhich makes itself heard in the Chambers.\u201d\n\n\u201cBah! of what account are the Diet and the Chambers?\u201d exclaimed Schulze\ncontemptuously. \u201cAcknowledge candidly, Herr Beck, what a miserable\n_r\u00f4le_ our Chambers have recently played. Is not the will of the\nchancellor the only law? Is not everything possible to the diplomatic\nwisdom of Bismarck? Do the Deputies, Chambers, or Diet dare to\ncontradict the all-powerful minister? No! They only make such laws as\nare pleasing to their master. Therefore I am right when I say that the\npeople no longer have a voice in the new German Empire. Wait a little\nwhile, and the antiquated folly of Chambers and Diets will be also\nabolished.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour view is not entirely correct,\u201d said Adolph von Sempach. \u201cA strong\nparty in the Diet is opposed to the designs of Bismarck.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, the ultramontanes!\u201d answered Schulze. \u201cBut we are prepared for\nthem; we will conquer this rebellious set, so hostile to the empire!\u201d\nhe exclaimed, with an angry flash of his eyes. \u201cThe ultramontanes in\nGermany form only a rapidly disappearing minority, and this rabble, so\ndangerous to the state, will soon be exterminated. Liberalism reigns\nsupreme in the new German Empire; Bismarck depends upon its support.\nEvery right-thinking man will see that in a well-organized state but\none will must be paramount, and not two or even three wills. The\nemperor alone must rule. Therefore away with the will of the people,\naway with the will of the church! The form of the Russian government\nalone is sound; for here the emperor is the head of the state and of\nthe church. The civil officers rule according to the command of the\nemperor\u2014in a word, everything is done, as the governor has correctly\nremarked, with regularity. And whoever does not obey will be sent to\nthe mines of Siberia.\u201d\n\nVon Sempach, whose countenance gave evidence of his disapproval, wished\nto reply, but, at a sign from his friend, he remained silent.\n\n\u201cYes, indeed, Siberia is a splendid place!\u201d exulted the Russian. \u201cThe\nnew German Empire must also have a Siberia, to which her rebellious\nsubjects can be sent.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf German affairs continue to shape themselves so closely after the\nexample of Russia, we will undoubtedly have a Siberia very soon,\u201d said\nthe professor, with an ambiguous smile.\n\n\u201cWithout Siberia, what would we have done with the unruly Poles?\u201d\nexclaimed the charming daughter of the governor. \u201cThere in the mines,\nin want and misery, the wretches can do penance for their presumption,\nand repent for having disobeyed the Emperor of Russia.\u201d\n\nAt hearing her remarks, all color forsook Adolph\u2019s face; he looked\nwith amazement at his beautiful betrothed. Beck, however, noticed with\nsecret delight the impression she had made upon his friend.\n\n\u201cI am really anxious to learn,\u201d said he, \u201chow the people of the holy\nRussian Empire live, and if they are so supremely happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have proofs of it this afternoon,\u201d said the governor. \u201cWe\nwill drive in half an hour to a village in the vicinity of the city.\nThe village is inhabited by Roman Catholics; but even there you will\nfind that the will of the emperor is respected.\u201d\n\nAll now rose from the table; the guests retired to their rooms; but\nAdolph, who seemed greatly depressed, sought the society of his friend.\n\n\u201cHow do you like Alexandra?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is, in truth, imperially beautiful,\u201d answered Beck.\n\n\u201cBut you heard her cruel remarks about the poor Poles?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I heard what she said, and am not astonished that a Russian lady,\nwhose father is governor, should think as he does; it is very natural,\u201d\nreplied the professor.\n\nAdolph appeared to be overwhelmed with sadness.\n\n\u201cWill you not go with us on our tour of inspection?\u201d asked Edward.\n\n\u201cAfter such a painful exhibition of Alexandra\u2019s sentiments, I need\nsomething to distract my thoughts.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you noticed that the bust and portrait of the emperor, seated\non his throne, is to be seen in every corridor, chamber, and salon of\nthe palace?\u201d remarked Edward. \u201cHe is like an idol in the house, before\nwhich even the lovely head of Alexandra bows in reverence. This fact is\nof the highest interest to me. Man must have a god, a sovereign being,\nto serve. In Russia, the emperor is this sovereign; and Almighty God\nin heaven is, as the Russians imagine, the vassal of the emperor; for\nbishops, priests, and popes can only teach and preach that which the\nimperial sovereign commands and permits. And such a sovereign is to sit\nupon the throne of the new German Empire! A glorious prospect for us!\u201d\n\n\u201cRidiculous nonsense!\u201d exclaimed the young nobleman. \u201cThe German nation\nwould never submit to such a yoke of tyranny. Germans will never become\nslaves!\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not be too confident, Von Sempach! A keen observer has said that\nthe Germans are a most servile people.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they never will be the slaves of a Russian czar,\u201d replied Von\nSempach. \u201cThe German people, two years ago, gave ample proofs of what\nthey can do. Like our imaginary Michael,[16] who for a long time\nallowed himself to be kicked about and abused, but who suddenly shook\noff his lethargy, and fought like a lion, so will it be with Germany,\nwhich seems to have fallen into a state of good-humored torpor, during\nwhich cunning men have taken advantage of her apparent indifference to\ndeprive her gradually of her ancient privileges; but let the Germans\nonce feel the weight of Russian despotism, and you will see with what\nfury they will break loose the chains that bind them.\u201d\n\nTen minutes later, the carriage of the governor rolled through\nthe streets of the city. He had given orders to be driven over a\nwell-paved public road to a neighboring village. At a short distance\nfrom the carriage followed four Cossacks, mounted on small horses from\nTartary. One of them carried in the belt of his sabre a very peculiar\ninstrument. Attached to a strong wooden handle were nailed seven straps\nof leather, which terminated in hard knots. It was commonly called \u201cthe\npleti,\u201d and was, by the command of the Emperor Nicholas, used as a\nsubstitute for the notorious knout.\n\nJust as the village became visible behind the rows of trees that\nbordered the public road, the governor commanded the driver to stop. In\nlooking from the window, he had observed, upon a lately cleared space,\na collection of wooden huts which were situated a short distance from\nthe road.\n\n\u201cWhat is the meaning of this? Who has dared to build these huts?\u201d he\nexclaimed, in amazement.\n\n\u201cThey look very much like our barracks in Berlin,\u201d said Schulze. \u201cSome\npoor wretches built huts outside of the city because they could not\nearn enough to pay house-rent. The fact of their being permitted to\nremain so near Berlin is a disgrace to the intelligence of the capital\nof the new empire. It will be quite difficult to remove them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not tolerate such things in my district,\u201d said the Russian\nabruptly.\n\nThe carriage proceeded on its way, and stopped before a handsome house,\nthe residence of the mayor, who was the only person in the village who\nbelonged to the Russian state Church. This man had very small eyes and\nan immense mustache; and it was evident, from the odor of his breath,\nthat he had been imbibing freely. When summoned before the governor, he\nassumed a most abject appearance, and his form seemed really to shrink\nwhile in the presence of the powerful official.\n\n\u201cWhat huts are those outside of the village?\u201d said Rasumowski,\naddressing him roughly.\n\n\u201cTo reply, with your honor\u2019s permission, they are the dwellings of\nsome poor people who have settled there. They are very orderly, pay\ntheir taxes punctually, and support themselves by mending kettles, by\ngrinding scissors, by making rat and mouse traps, and such means.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho gave them permission to settle there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe parish, your honor. The ground upon which the huts stand belongs\nto the parish.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen, and obey my orders!\u201d said the governor. \u201cThese huts must be\ntaken down without delay; for the emperor has not given this ground to\npeasants, that they may propagate like vermin. If the rabble cannot\nrent houses in the village, then they must go further, perhaps to\nSiberia, where there is plenty of work in the mines.\u201d\n\nThe mayor of the village bowed most obsequiously.\n\nBeck watched his friend Adolph, who seemed greatly revolted at the\ninhuman command.\n\nHerr Schulze, of Berlin, on the contrary, looked as though he had heard\nsomething that would prove of incalculable benefit to mankind.\n\n\u201cOn what text did the Catholic pastor preach last Sunday?\u201d asked the\ngovernor.\n\n\u201cWith the permission of your honor, his sermon was on redemption\nthrough Jesus Christ.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid he make no mention of the emperor?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, your honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid he say nothing about the obedience due the emperor?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, your honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cGo at once, and bring the priest before me!\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg pardon, your honor, but he has gone to visit a sick person at\nsome distance.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen send him to me in the city. To-morrow, at nine in the morning, he\nmust appear before me, and bring his sermon with him!\u201d\n\nThe mayor made an humble obeisance.\n\n\u201cDid the priest presume to say anything about the Pope?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, your honor; since the Roman Catholic priests who preached about\nthe Pope were sent to Siberia, nothing is said about him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith regard to other matters, how are things progressing in the\nvillage?\u201d\n\n\u201cAdmirably, your honor! After the twenty Catholic families were sent\nto Siberia, all the inhabitants are willing to die in obedience to our\ngood emperor. The people are all satisfied; no one wishes to go into\nexile.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn how many villages of Germany,\u201d said the governor to his guests,\n\u201ccan you find the people so contented and ready to give their lives\nin obedience to our good emperor? The form of government in the holy\nRussian Empire works miracles. Now, gentlemen, follow me to the\nschoolhouse, so that you may see how Russia educates her subjects.\u201d\n\nThey left the mayor\u2019s residence, and crossed the street to the\nschoolhouse.\n\n\u201cI must tell you in advance,\u201d observed Rasumowski, \u201cthat in Russia we\ndo not cultivate a fancy for popular education. Our peasants are only\nentitled to be taught three things: to obey, to work, and to pay taxes.\nIn this consists their knowledge; it is the axis around which revolves\nour national education.\u201d\n\nHe opened the school door. About one hundred children, dirty and poorly\nclad, sat upon the benches. The schoolmaster, who had already espied\nthe arrival of the governor, bowed in fear and trembling.\n\n\u201cHow is it with the children of the emperor, teacher? Do you fulfil\nyour duty in obedience to my orders?\u201d\n\n\u201cI endeavor to do so, your honor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall convince myself, and ask some questions from the catechism of\nour state religion,\u201d said the governor.\n\nHe called up several children, and began to question them, which\nquestions were as remarkable and as interesting to the professor as\nwere the answers.\n\n\u201cWho is your sovereign lord?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe good emperor of holy Russia.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you owe to the emperor?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnconditional obedience, love, and payment of taxes.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what does the happiness of a Russian consist?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn being a brave soldier of the good emperor.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere does the soul of man go after death?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo heaven or to hell.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat soul goes to heaven?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat soul which always obeys the good emperor and owes no taxes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat soul goes to hell?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat soul which was disobedient to the emperor.\u201d\n\nThe governor turned towards his guests.\n\n\u201cYou have already commenced a system of compulsory education in\nGermany,\u201d said he; \u201cbut when you succeed in establishing a state\nchurch, and have a catechism of state religion, then will the new\nGerman Empire, like our czar, be able to educate subjects who must obey\nhim blindly.\u201d\n\nHe now turned again to the children.\n\n\u201cIs there a pope in Rome?\u201d\n\nThe child who was questioned looked at the teacher, who had become as\npale as death.\n\n\u201cAnswer me! Is there a pope in Rome?\u201d repeated the governor.\n\n\u201cNo; there is only one emperor, who is at the same time the pope of all\nthe Russians,\u201d replied the child.\n\n\u201cSchoolmaster, I am satisfied with you,\u201d said Rasumowski approvingly.\n\n\u201cYou know that the only things which every good Russian must do is\nto work diligently, to pay taxes punctually, and to blindly obey the\nemperor. These three things you must impress upon the minds of the\nchildren!\u201d\n\nThe governor was about to leave the schoolroom, when he suddenly\nstopped, and his face became crimson with anger. He had espied the\nportrait of the emperor, which hung in a gilt frame on the wall.\nThe glass that covered it was broken, and it was soiled with a few\nink-stains.\n\n\u201cSchoolmaster, what is this?\u201d exclaimed the governor furiously.\n\n\u201cPardon, your honor!\u201d implored the trembling teacher. \u201cA wicked boy\nthrew his inkstand at the picture.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, miserable wretch that you are, left it thus disfigured upon\nthe wall! Follow me!\u201d\n\nThe governor, with his guests and the teacher, left the room, and\nentered an office where the mayor held his sessions.\n\n\u201cSchoolmaster!\u201d began the governor, \u201cyou deserve to be sent to Siberia,\nfor you Roman Catholics are only fit for the mines. You refuse blind\nobedience, and deny the right of the emperor to command in church\naffairs; you are constantly rebelling against the empire, and all of\nyou should, therefore, be sent into exile. For your insolence, however,\nin leaving the portrait of our holy emperor in this neglected state,\nyou will receive ten blows with the pleti.\u201d\n\nHe stepped forward to the window, and summoned the Cossack who carried\nthe instrument of torture.\n\n\u201cCorporal, give ten heavy strokes with the pleti on this teacher\u2019s\nback!\u201d\n\nThe Cossack seized a bench, and motioned the teacher to stretch himself\nupon it.\n\nVon Sempach and Beck, finding it impossible to conceal their\nindignation, left the room. In going down-stairs, they heard the\nwhizzing sound of the lash and the screams of the poor teacher.\n\n\u201cI shall lose my senses,\u201d said Adolph, while waiting at the threshold.\n\u201cMy God! has Alexandra grown up amid such scenes?\u201d\n\nThe professor was delighted to hear this remark.\n\n\u201cIt is, indeed, a very demoralizing atmosphere for a woman to breathe,\u201d\nsaid he.\n\n\u201cCan it be that Alexandra has escaped the contaminating influence of\nRussian customs? Has _she_ also lost all feeling and the delicacy of\nher sex? We must find out, if possible.\u201d\n\nRasumowski and Schulze approached.\n\n\u201cAh! gentlemen,\u201d exclaimed the governor laughingly, \u201cthe singing of\nthe pleti caused you to leave! Well, we Russians accustom ourselves to\nsuch things. When, with other practical institutions, the pleti is also\nintroduced into the new German Empire, then you will learn to think it\nas useful an instrument as is the whip in the hands of the cartman.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho drive oxen and donkeys,\u201d added the professor.\n\n\u201cOur new German Empire has already introduced a punishment for the\nsoldiers, which causes as much pain as the pleti,\u201d said Adolph von\nSempach. \u201cI have read repeatedly in the newspapers that soldiers, while\nupon drill, have fallen fainting to the ground. The reason was their\nbeing compelled to carry heavy stones in their knapsacks, until their\nstrength gave way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a Russian invention that you have borrowed from us; we have long\npractised it,\u201d asserted Rasumowski.\n\n\u201cAnd I suppose we have also adopted your severe system of military\narrest, which Count von Moltke justifies by ingeniously remarking that\neven in time of peace the soldier owes his health to his country.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, it is true we keep up the same strict discipline,\u201d exclaimed the\nRussian; \u201cbut Moltke should have said that the soldier owes his health\nand life to the _emperor_, and not to the _country_. Words are useless;\nacts are what we insist upon.\u201d\n\nWhen leaving the house, there were a number of men, women, and children\noutside who awaited the governor. At seeing him, they all fell upon\ntheir knees, and lifted up their hands in supplication.\n\n\u201cPardon! Mercy! Humanity!\u201d were heard in confused accents.\n\n\u201cKeep quiet!\u201d commanded Rasumowski. \u201cSchulze, what does this mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour honor, these are the poor people who live in the huts. They ask\nyou, for God\u2019s sake, not to destroy their only place of shelter.\u201d\n\n\u201cAsking me to do a thing for God\u2019s sake!\u201d exclaimed the governor\nharshly. \u201cIf they had asked me to do so for the emperor\u2019s sake, I would\nperhaps have granted their request. Begone! Away with you! My orders\nare to be obeyed!\u201d\n\nThe people, however, did not rise, but burst forth into fresh\nlamentations and tears.\n\n\u201cYour honor,\u201d said an old man, \u201cgraciously listen to us, as the good\nemperor would do, who always wishes to help his people. We built those\nhuts by permission of the parish, and we strive to make a living in an\nhonest way. We pay the taxes, and are not in debt to the emperor. If\nyour honor destroys our huts, whither shall we poor people go? Must we\nlive with the foxes and wolves in the forests? Is this the will of the\nemperor?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe emperor desires his subjects to live in comfortable houses, for\nwhich reason the huts must be removed,\u201d answered Rasumowski.\n\n\u201cYour honor, we have no means to build comfortable houses,\u201d replied the\nold man. \u201cLook at the little children; they will die if the orders of\nyour honor are executed.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will hear no more: it is the emperor\u2019s will!\u201d exclaimed the governor.\n\nThe words \u201cIt is the emperor\u2019s will\u201d had the most disheartening effect\nupon the poor people. The haggard, wretchedly-clad assemblage gave way\nto despair, but a low murmur was all that was heard.\n\nRasumowski looked triumphantly at his guests, as if he had said in so\nmany words: \u201cYou see what the will of the emperor can do!\u201d\n\nBut the professor was not to be deceived. The suppressed wrath plainly\nvisible in the faces of the men did not escape him.\n\nA young man rose humbly from his knees, and looked with strangely\nglittering eyes upon the governor.\n\n\u201cIt is not true!\u2014the emperor does not, cannot wish us to suffer!\u201d he\nexclaimed.\n\nRasumowski looked with astonishment at the bold youth.\n\n\u201cHow do you know that it is not the will of the emperor?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cThe emperor is human, but what you command is inhuman!\u201d answered the\nintrepid peasant.\n\nThe Russian governor absolutely trembled with anger.\n\n\u201cFifteen lashes with the pleti\u2014give it to him soundly!\u201d he cried, and\nwalked towards the carriage, which drove slowly through the village.\n\nAdolph von Sempach sat depressed and silent. What he had seen and\nheard did not tend to elevate the character of the beautiful Alexandra\nin his estimation, as her remarks concerning the cruelties upon the\nunfortunate Poles seemed to prove that she had inherited the barbarous\ndisposition of her father.\n\n\u201cDo you hear the screams of the insolent fellow?\u201d said the governor.\n\u201cThe pleti is unfortunately a poor affair\u2014it has not sufficient\nswing and force. The old knout was much better; for it was made of\nstrong leather straps, intertwined with wire. The Emperor Nicholas I.\nintroduced this new knout, however\u2014and whatever the czar does, is well\ndone; but if I were consulted, I would bring the old knout again into\nuse.\u201d\n\n\u201cI fear, governor,\u201d said Beck \u201cthat even the new knout or the pleti\nwould meet with invincible opposition in Germany.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken,\u201d answered the Russian. \u201cThe Germans can also be\nsubdued\u2014the German neck must bow to him who has the power. Now,\ngentlemen, I will show you some evidences of the industry of our\nfarmers,\u201d he continued, when the carriage had left the village. \u201cLook\nat our abundant crops! The German farmer can hardly excel the Russian.\nYou find everywhere signs of prudent husbandry as well as of diligence\nand perseverance.\u201d\n\nHerr Schulze gave a token of assent, the professor knew nothing about\nagriculture, and Von Sempach preserved a gloomy silence.\n\n\u201cDo you see that village?\u201d said Rasumowski, pointing in a certain\ndirection. \u201cAll the inhabitants are Roman Catholics, with the\nexception of the mayor, of course; but for ten years they have been\nwithout a priest, without divine service, without a church.\u201d\n\n\u201cI think I see a church,\u201d remarked Beck.\n\n\u201cYes, the church is there, but it has been closed for ten years. The\nformer Roman Catholic pastor, who persisted in preaching upon the\ndignity of man, the liberty of the children of God, and even of the\npope and other dangerous things, was transported to Siberia, and the\nchurch was closed by my command.\u201d\n\n\u201cI admire your eminently practical method,\u201d observed the guest from\nBerlin. \u201cWe would not dare as yet to do such a thing in the new German\nEmpire.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it will be done in good time,\u201d replied the Russian.\n\nThe carriage, in returning, had by this time reached the outskirts of\nthe city.\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d exclaimed Herr Schulze in joyful surprise, \u201cthe huts have already\ndisappeared. I shall write at once to my friends in Berlin, and apprise\nthem of the expeditious manner in which the Russian government acts.\u201d\n\nTO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT NUMBER.\n\n\nTHE VIRGIN MARY TO CHRIST ON THE CROSSE.\n\n  What mist hath dimd that glorious face? what seas of griefe my sun\n      doth tosse?\n  The golden raies of heauenly grace lies now eclips\u00e8d on the crosse.\n\n  Iesus! my loue, my Sonne, my God, behold Thy mother washt in teares:\n  Thy bloudie woundes be made a rod to chasten these my latter yeares.\n\n  You cruell Iewes, come worke your ire, vpon this worthlesse flesh of\n      mine:\n  And kindle not eternall fire, by wounding Him which is diuine.\n\n  Thou messenger that didst impart His first descent into my wombe,\n  Come help me now to cleaue my heart, that there I may my Sonne\n      intombe.\n\n  You angels all, that present were, to shew His birth with harmonie;\n  Why are you not now readie here, to make a mourning symphony?\n\n  The cause I know, you waile alone and shed your teares in secresie,\n  Lest I should mou\u00e8d be to mone, by force of heauie companie.\n\n  But waile my soul, thy comfort dies, my wofull wombe, lament thy\n      fruit;\n  My heart giue teares unto my eies, let Sorrow string my heauy lute.\n\n  \u2014_Southwell._\n\n\n\n\nPOET AND MARTYR.[17]\n\n\n\n\nPART FIRST\u2014MARTYR.\n\n  \u201cHoist up sail while gale doth last,\n    Tide and wind stay no man\u2019s pleasure:\n  Seek not time when time is past,\n    Sober speed is wisdom\u2019s leisure.\n  After-wits are dearly bought,\n  Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought.\u201d\n\n  \u201cTime wears all his locks before,\n    Take thou hold upon his forehead;\n  When he flies, he turns no more,\n    And behind his scalp is naked.\n  Works adjourn\u2019d have many stays;\n  Long demurs breed new delays.\u201d\n\n  \u2014_Robert Southwell, 1593._[18]\n\n\nCONCERNING the writer of these beautiful lines, the English historian,\nStow, makes the following brief mention in his _Chronicle_: \u201cFebruary\n20, 1594-5.\u2014Southwell, a Jesuit, that long time had lain prisoner in\nthe Tower of London, was arraigned at the King\u2019s Bench bar. He was\ncondemned, and on the next morning drawn from Newgate to Tyburn, and\nthere hanged, bowelled, and quartered.\u201d From this account we are unable\nto discover that the man whose judicial murder Stow thus records was\nput to death for any offence but that of being a JESUIT,\nand of having \u201clong time lain in prison in the Tower of London.\u201d\nAnd yet, in thus stating the case, Stow tells the simple truth; for\nSouthwell was guilty of no more serious crime than his sacerdotal\ncharacter, and of suffering the imprisonment and tortures inflicted\nupon him in consequence thereof. For three years previous to his\ndeath he had been in prison and in the Tower, had lain in noisome\nand filthy dungeons, and been subjected many times to torture and\nthe rack. From the high social position of his family, the fame of\nhis literary accomplishments, his admirable and saintly bearing as a\nmissionary priest in England, for six long years carrying his life\nin his hand while ministering to a scattered flock, obliged to move\nfrom place to place in disguise as though he were a malefactor, and\nfinally, from the wonderful fortitude and constancy with which he was\nsaid to have suffered torture, his case was very generally known in\nLondon, and deeply commiserated even by many Protestants. So deep and\nwidespread, indeed, was this sympathy that, when it was determined by\nthe officers of the crown to try and condemn him on one and the same\nday, and execute him the next morning, they withheld from the public\nall announcement of his execution, meanwhile giving notice of the\nhanging of a famous highwayman in another place in order to draw off\nthe concourse of spectators. But it availed not, for there were many\nwho kept so close a watch upon the movements at Newgate, to which\nprison he had been removed a few days before his trial, that, when\nSouthwell was brought out to be drawn on a sled or hurdle to the place\nof execution at Tyburn, he was followed by great numbers of people, and\namong them many persons of distinction, who witnessed the carrying out\nof his dreadful sentence, which was that he should be \u201chung, bowelled,\nand quartered.\u201d\n\nThat our readers may understand that our qualification of Southwell\u2019s\nexecution as a judicial murder is not the result of mere personal\nsympathy or of religious prejudice, we will here record the judgment\nof several Protestant authorities, who speak out concerning it in a\nmanner not to be misunderstood. In the valuable _Cyclop\u00e6dia of English\nLiterature_, by Chambers, we read concerning Southwell that, after\nhaving ministered secretly but zealously to the scattered adherents\nof his creed, \u201cwithout, as far as is known, doing anything to disturb\nthe peace of society, he was apprehended and committed to a dungeon\nin the Tower, so noisome and filthy that, when he was brought out\nfor examination, his clothes were covered with vermin. Upon this his\nfather, a man of good family, presented a petition to Queen Elizabeth,\nbegging that, if his son had committed anything for which, by the\nlaws, he had deserved death, he might suffer death; if not, as he was\na gentleman, he begged her majesty would be pleased to order him to\nbe treated as a gentleman. Southwell after this was somewhat better\nlodged, but an imprisonment of three years, with ten inflictions of the\nrack, wore out his patience, and he entreated to be brought to trial.\nCecil is said to have made the brutal remark that, \u2018if he was in so\nmuch haste to be hanged, he should quickly have his desire.\u2019 Being at\nthe trial found guilty, upon his own confession, of being a Romish\npriest, he was condemned to death, and executed at Tyburn accordingly,\nwith all the horrible circumstances dictated by the old treason laws of\nEngland. Throughout all these scenes he behaved with a mild fortitude\nwhich nothing but a highly regulated mind and satisfied conscience\ncould have prompted.\u201d\n\nCleveland (_Compendium of English Literature_, p. 88), after stating\nthe circumstances of Southwell\u2019s imprisonment, trial, and execution,\nremarks: \u201cThe whole proceeding should cover the authors of it with\neverlasting infamy. It is a foul stain upon the garments of the maiden\nqueen that she can never wipe off. There was not a particle of evidence\nat his trial that this pious and accomplished poet meditated any evil\ndesigns against the government. He did what he had a perfect right to\ndo; ay, what it was his duty to do, if he conscientiously thought he\nwas right\u2014endeavor to make converts to his faith, so far as he could\nwithout interfering with the right of others. If there be anything to\nbe execrated, it is persecution for opinion\u2019s sake.\u201d\n\nAllibone, in his _Dictionary of English Literature_, says that\nSouthwell, \u201cto the disgrace of the English government, suffered as a\nmartyr at Tyburn, February 21, 1595, after three years\u2019 imprisonment\nin the Tower, during which it is asserted he was ten times subjected\nto the torture. He was a good poet, a good prose writer, and a better\nChristian than his brutal persecutors.\u201d\n\nOld Fuller, in his _Worthies of England_, as might be expected, views\nSouthwell with a stern English Protestant eye, and thus dismisses\nhim: \u201cRobert Southwell was born in this county (Norfolk), as Pitsons\naffirmeth, who, although often mistaken in his locality, may be\nbelieved herein, as professing himself familiarly acquainted with him\nat Rome. But the matter is not much where he was born, seeing, though\ncried up by men of his own profession for his many books in verse and\nprose, he was reputed a dangerous enemy by the state, for which he was\nimprisoned and executed March the 3d, 1595\u201d (vol. iii. p. 187).\n\nRobert Southwell was the third son of Richard Southwell, Esq., of\nHorsham, St. Faith\u2019s, Norfolk. The curious in genealogy, while\ninvestigating family lines associated with the Southwell pedigree,\nhave found connected with it, in degrees more or less near, the names\nof Paston, Sidney, Howard, Newton, and Percy Bysshe Shelley. Of his\nearly years there is but slight record, save that, when still very\nyoung, he was sent to Douai to be educated. From Douai he passed to\nParis and thence to Rome, where, in 1578, before he had yet reached\nthe age of seventeen, he was received into the order of the Society of\nJesus. On completion of his novitiate and termination of the courses\nof philosophy and theology, he was made prefect of studies of the\nEnglish College at Rome. Ordained priest in 1584, and, as appears\nfrom his letter addressed, February 20, 1585, to the general of the\norder, seeking the \u201cperilous\u201d errand wherein his future martyrdom seems\nrather to have been anticipated than merely referred to as a simple\npossibility,[19] he left Rome on the 8th of May, 1586, a missionary to\nhis native land, or, in other words, took up his line of march for the\nscaffold and for heaven. We have, naturally enough, but scant record\nof the young priest\u2019s journey to and arrival in England; for, as the\nmere landing in England by a Catholic priest was then a penal offence\npunishable with death, Southwell\u2019s return to his native country was\nsurrounded as much as possible by secrecy. Although yearning to visit\nhis home and embrace his family, he carefully abstained from going near\nthem\u2014of doing that which, in his quaint phrase of the day, \u201cmaketh my\npresence perilous.\u201d But he was aware that his father was in danger of\nlosing, if he had not already lost, his faith; and these fears were\nalmost confirmed by the facts that he had formed a marriage with a lady\nof the court, and that his wealth gave him entrance to court circles\nwhich were necessarily violently Protestant. Deeply solicitous for his\nfather\u2019s spiritual condition, he therefore addressed him a letter of\nadmonition and advice, not less remarkable for its tone of affection\nthan for its energy and eloquence. We cite it in another place.\n\nHUNTED DOWN.\n\nAt a time when, as Mr. Grosart says, \u201cit was a crime to be a Catholic:\nit was proof of high treason to be a priest: it was to invite \u2018hunting\u2019\nas of a wild beast to be a Jesuit,\u201d we cannot reasonably look for many\nrecorded traces of Father Southwell\u2019s presence and journeyings to and\nfro while in England. He could only move in disguise or under the\ndarkness of night; he was liable to be thrown into prison anywhere on\nthe merest suspicion of any irresponsible accuser. The few Catholics\nwho were ready to give him shelter and hospitality did so with the\nhalter around their necks; for confiscation and death were the penalty,\nas they well knew, for \u201charboring\u201d a priest. It is nevertheless certain\nthat his refuge in London was the mansion of the Countess of Arundel,\nwhose husband, Philip Howard, Earl of Arundel, was imprisoned in the\nTower, and died there, the noblest victim to the jealous and suspicious\ntyranny of Elizabeth, _non sine veneni suspicione_, as his epitaph\nstill testifies.\n\nHundreds of Southwell\u2019s letters to his superiors still exist, but they\nare all from necessity written in such general terms and in so guarded\na manner as to afford but little historical information. Here is one\nof them, as given by Bishop Challoner in his _Memoirs of Missionary\nPriests_:\n\n1. \u201cAs yet we are alive and well, being unworthy, it seems, of prisons.\nWe have oftener sent, than received, letters from your parts, tho\u2019 they\nare not sent without difficulty; and some, we know, have been lost.\u201d\n\n2. \u201cThe condition of Catholic recusants here is the same as usual,\ndeplorable and full of fears and dangers, more especially since our\nadversaries have look\u2019d for wars. As many of ours as are in chains\nrejoice and are comforted in their prisons; and they that are at\nliberty set not their heart upon it, nor expect it to be of long\ncontinuance. All by the great goodness and mercy of God arm themselves\nto suffer anything that can come, how hard soever it may be, as it\nshall please our Lord; for whose greater glory, and the salvation of\ntheir souls, they are more concerned than for any temporal losses.\u201d\n\n3. \u201cA little while ago, they apprehended two priests, who have suffered\nsuch cruel usages in the prison of Bridewell as can scarce be believed.\nWhat was given them to eat was so little in quantity, and, withal,\nso filthy and nauseous, that the very sight was enough to turn their\nstomachs. The labors to which they obliged them were continual and\nimmoderate, and no less in sickness than in health; for, with hard\nblows and stripes, they forced them to accomplish their task how weak\nsoever they were. Their beds were dirty straw, and their prison most\nfilthy. Some are there hung up for whole days by the hands, in such a\nmanner that they can but just touch the ground with the tips of their\ntoes. This purgatory we are looking for every hour, in which Topcliffe\nand Young, the two executioners of the Catholics, exercise all kinds of\ntorments. But come what pleaseth God, we hope we shall be able to bear\nall in him that strengthens us. I most humbly recommend myself to the\nholy sacrifices of your reverence and of all our friends. (January 15,\n1590.)\u201d\n\nPURSUIT AND ESCAPE.\n\nIn a work[20] published so lately as 1871, we catch a few fugitive\nglances of Father Robert Southwell. Father Gerard spoke of him at the\ntime (1585) as \u201cexcelling in the art of helping and gaining souls,\nbeing at once prudent, pious, meek, and exceedingly winning.\u201d\n\nA descent was made by the pursuivants upon a house in the country,\nwhere the two fathers happened to be together, and but for the devotion\nof the domestics the two missionaries would have been captured. They\nescaped, however, and journeyed away together. The peculiar danger\nthey were then subjected to was that arising from intercourse with the\ngentry. Father Gerard tells of a gentleman who violently suspected\nhim, and adds: \u201cAfter a day or so he quite abandoned all mistrust, as\nI spoke of hunting and falconry with all the details that none but\na practised person could command.\u201d He concludes: \u201cFor many make sad\nblunders in attempting this, as Father Southwell, who was afterwards\nmy companion in many journeys, was wont to complain. He frequently\ngot me to instruct him in the technical terms of sport, and used to\ncomplain of his bad memory for such things; for on many occasions when\nhe fell in with Protestant gentlemen he found it necessary to speak of\nthese matters, which are the sole topics of their conversations, save\nwhen they talk obscenity or break out into blasphemies and abuse of the\nsaints or the Catholic faith.\u201d\n\nWith danger of possible arrest at every house and on every road,\nfollowed by swift and barbarous execution, Father Southwell for six\nlong years carried his life in his hand.\n\nPROTESTANT OPINION.\n\n\u201cGranted,\u201d says his Protestant biographer (Grosart, xlix.), \u201cthat\nin our Southwell\u2019s years 1588 is included, and that the shadow of\nthe coming of the Armada lay across England from the very moment of\nhis arrival; granted that, in the teeth of their instructions, there\nwere priests and members of the Society of Jesus who deemed they did\nGod service by \u2018plotting\u2019 for the restoration of the old \u2018faith and\nworship\u2019 after a worldly sort; granted that politically and civilly\nthe nation was, in a sense, in the throes of since-achieved liberties;\ngranted that _Mary_, all too sadly, even tremendously, earned her\nepithet of \u2018Bloody\u2019; granted that the very mysticism, not to say\nmystery, of the \u2018higher\u2019 sovereignty claimed for him who wore the\ntiara, acted as darkness does with sounds the most innocent; granted\nnearly all that Protestantism claims in its apology as defence\u2014it\nmust be regarded as a stigma on the statesmanship and a stain on the\nChristianity of the reformed Church of England, as well as a sorrow\nto all right-minded and right-hearted, that the \u2018convictions\u2019 of\nthose who could not in conscience \u2018change\u2019 at the bidding of Henry\nVIII., Elizabeth, or James were not respected; that \u2018opinion,\u2019 or,\nif you will, \u2018error,\u2019 was put down (or attempted to be put down) by\nforce, and that the headsman\u2019s axe and hangman\u2019s rope were the only\ninstrumentalities thought of. The State Trials remain to bring a blush\nto every lover of his country for the brutal and \u2018hard\u2019 mockery of\njustice in the higher courts of law whenever a priest was concerned\u2014as\nlater with the Puritans and Nonconformists.\u201d\n\nFALSE BRETHREN AND THE MAN-HUNTER.\n\nWith malignant pursuit that never slackened, and that old peril of\nS. Paul, \u201cfalse brethren,\u201d Southwell\u2019s arrest was, of course, a mere\nquestion of time. His day came at last, after six years of labor and\ndanger in the field. The circumstances are as follows, from Turnbull,\nverified by other authorities. There was resident at Uxenden, near\nHarrow on the Hill, in Middlesex, a Catholic family by the name of\nBellamy, occasionally visited by Southwell for the purpose of religious\ninstruction. One of the daughters, Ann, had in her early youth\nexhibited marks of the most vivid and unshakable piety; but having\nbeen committed to the gatehouse of Westminster, her faith gradually\ndeparted, and along with it her virtue: for, having formed an intrigue\nwith the keeper of the prison, she subsequently married him, and by\nthis step forfeited all claim which she had by law or favor upon her\nfather. In order, therefore, to obtain some fortune, she resolved to\ntake advantage of the act of 27 Elizabeth, which made the harboring\nof a priest treason, with confiscation of the offender\u2019s goods.\nAccordingly she sent a messenger to Southwell, urging him to meet her\non a certain day and hour at her father\u2019s house; whither he, either\nin ignorance of what had happened, or under the impression that she\nsought his spiritual assistance through motives of penitence, went at\nthe appointed time. In the meanwhile, having apprised her husband of\nthis, as also the place of concealment in her father\u2019s house and the\nmode of access, he conveyed the information to Topcliffe, an implacable\npersecutor and denouncer of the Catholics, who, with a band of his\nsatellites, surrounded the premises, broke open the house, arrested\nhis reverence, and carried him off in open day, exposed to the gaze\nof the populace. Topcliffe carried Southwell to his own (Topcliffe\u2019s)\ndwelling, and there, in the course of ten weeks, tortured him with\nsuch pitiless severity that the unhappy victim, complaining of it to\nhis judges, declared that death would have been preferable. A letter,\nqualified by Grosart as \u201cfawning, cruel, and abominable,\u201d written by\nthis human bloodhound, Topcliffe, and addressed to no less a personage\nthan Queen Elizabeth, reports the capture and torture of Southwell, and\nstates, with details, how he proposes further to torture him.\n\nThe letter is dated Westminster, June 22, 1592, and advises the queen:\n\u201cI have him here within my strong chamber in Westminster churchyard\n(_i.e._ the gatehouse). I have made him assured for starting or\nhurting of himself by putting upon his arms a pair of;[21] and so to\nkeep him either from view or conference with any but Nicolas, the\nunderkeeper of the gatehouse.... Upon this present taking of him it is\ngood forthwith to enforce him to answer truly and directly; and so to\nprove his answers true in haste, to the end that such as he be deeply\nconcerned in his treachery may not have time to start, or make shift\nto use any means in common prisons; either to stand upon or against\nthe wall will give warning. _But if your highness\u2019 pleasure be to know\nanything in his heart, to stand against the wall, his feet standing\nupon the ground, and his hands put as high as he can reach against the\nwall_ (like a trick at Tremshemarn), will enforce him to tell all;\nand the truth proven by the sequel....[22] It may please your majesty\nto consider, I never did take so weighty a man, if he be rightly\nconsidered.\u201d[23]\n\nThe reader will here readily recognize a partial description of one\nof the modes of torture then most common in use throughout the reign\nof Elizabeth. It seems that it _was_ \u201cher highness\u2019 pleasure\u201d to know\nsomething that was in this poor martyr\u2019s heart, for Southwell was\nafterwards again repeatedly tortured. The intimate personal relations\nexisting between the virgin queen and this man Topcliffe, whose very\nname was a stench in the nostrils of Protestants of respectable\nbehavior, were maintained long after the Southwell capture, as we learn\nfrom the best authority. The cruelty of Elizabeth was only surpassed\nby her mendacity, as her mendacity was only exceeded by her mean\nparsimony, and when she travelled or made progress from one country to\nanother it was always at the expense of her good and loyal subjects.\nEventually the announcement of a visit from their good queen, received\noutwardly with such declarations as might naturally follow the promise\nof the call of a special envoy from heaven, was in reality looked upon\nas the coming of a terrible calamity. It was at that time considered at\nthe English court\u2014where, as we all know, all the civil and religious\nvirtues had taken refuge\u2014an excellent jest to so direct the course\nof the queen\u2019s progress as to make her visits fall at the residences\nof well-known Catholic gentlemen. It is only necessary to say that\nthe anniversary of all such events yet lives in the traditions of the\ndescendants of such families as that of a day of horror. The royal\nretinue treated the house like a captured place, and it was well for\nthe proprietor if confiscation or death, or both, were not the sole\nreward of his generous hospitality.\n\nMr. Topcliffe gives us valuable information on this point. On the\n30th of August, 1578, he writes to the Earl of Shrewsbury: \u201cThe next\ngood news (not in account the highest), her majesty hath served God\nwith great zeal and comfortable examples; for by her council the two\nnotorious papists, young Rookwood (the master of Ewston Hall, where\nher majesty did lie upon Sunday now a fortnight), and one Downs, a\ngentleman, were both committed, the one to the town prison at Norwich,\nthe other to the county prison there, for obstinate papistry; and seven\nmore gentlemen of worship were committed to several houses in Norwich\nas prisoners; two of the Lovells, another Downs, one Benings, one\nParry, and two others.... Her majesty, by some means I know not, was\nlodged at his (Rookwood\u2019s) house, Ewston, far unmeet for her highness,\nbut fitter for the blackguard; nevertheless her excellent majesty\ngave to Rookwood ordinary thanks for his bad house, and her fair\nhand to kiss; after which it was braved at. But my lord chamberlain,\nnobly and gravely understanding that Rookwood was excommunicated for\npapistry, called him before him, demanded of him how he durst presume\nto attempt her real presence, he, unfit to accompany any Christian\nperson; forthwith said he was fitter for a pair of stocks; commanded\nhim out of the court, and yet to attend her council\u2019s pleasure; and\nat Norwich he was committed,\u201d[24] etc. etc. In the beginning of the\nletter Topcliffe \u201cjoys at her majesty\u2019s gracious favor and affiance in\nyour lordship\u2014next some comfort I received of her for myself that must\never lie nearest my own heart.\u201d Tender Topcliffe! But we must have \u201cno\nscandal about Queen Elizabeth,\u201d and our most delicate susceptibilities\nfor the fair fame of the royal virgin may be quieted by the certainty\nthat the comfort nearest the human bloodhound\u2019s \u201cown heart\u201d was\nsomething substantial\u2014a country house, an estate, or the like.\n\nLodge says that this Topcliffe was respectably connected, but that\nhe could only find that he was distinguished as a most implacable\npersecutor of Roman Catholics. In a letter of Sir Anthony Standen, in\nwhich he praises the agreeable manners of the Earl of Essex, he writes:\n\u201cContrary to our _Topcliffian_ customs, he hath won more with words\nthan others could do with racks.\u201d From another letter of the period\nit appears that _Topcliffzare_ in the quaint language of the court\nsignified to hunt a recusant.\n\nBut to return to Southwell. Transferred to a dungeon in the Tower,\n\u201cso noisome and filthy that, when he was brought out at the end of\nthe month, his clothes were covered with vermin,\u201d his father wrote\nto her majesty Queen Elizabeth the letter we have already mentioned.\nThis petition was to some extent regarded. A better lodging was allowed\nhim, and leave accorded his father to supply him with \u201ccloaths and\nother necessaries\u201d; and amongst the rest, with books which he asked\nfor, which were only the Holy Bible and the works of S. Bernard. \u201cThe\nselection of books,\u201d says Mr. Grosart, \u201c_the_ book of books, and the\nfather of the fathers, for a poet is very noteworthy; and through all\nhis weary imprisonment \u2018spiritual things,\u2019 not civil or earthly, were\nhis theme when he discoursed to his sister Mary (Mrs. Bannister) or\nothers permitted occasionally to visit him.\u201d\n\n\nTRIAL AND EXECUTION.\n\nWe adopt mainly the relation of Southwell\u2019s trial and execution as it\nis given by Bishop Challoner, supported by a Latin MS. preserved in the\narchives of the English College of S. Omer\u2019s:\n\n\u201cAfter Father Southwell had been kept close prisoner for three years\nin the Tower, he sent an epistle to Cecil, Lord Treasurer, humbly\nentreating his lordship that he might either be brought upon his trial\nto answer for himself, or at least that his friends might have leave\nto come and see him. The treasurer answered that, if he was in so much\nhaste to be hanged, he should quickly have his desire. Shortly after\nthis orders were given that he should be removed from the Tower to\nNewgate, where he was put down into the dungeon called _Limbo_, and\nthere kept for three days.\n\n\u201cOn the 22d of February, without any previous warning to prepare\nfor his trial, he was taken out of his dark lodging and hurried to\nWestminster, to hold up his hand there at the bar. The first news of\nthis step towards his martyrdom filled his heart with a joy which he\ncould not conceal. The judges before whom he was to appear were Lord\nChief-Justice Popham, Justice Owen, Baron Evans, and Sergeant Daniel.\nAs soon as Father Southwell was brought in, the lord chief-justice made\na long and vehement speech against the Jesuits and seminary priests,\nas the authors and contrivers of all the plots and treasons which, he\npretended, had been hatched during that reign. Then was read the bill\nof indictment against Father Southwell, drawn up by Cook, the queen\u2019s\nsolicitor.\u201d\n\n\nTHEIR FAITH WAS THEIR GUILT.\n\nIt would be well to remark here that Protestants nowadays frequently\ncontend that the missionary priests judicially murdered during the\nreign of Elizabeth were not executed on account of their religion,\nbut because they were stirrers up of sedition and traitors, and were\nin every case so proven to be upon their respective trials. The good\npeople who set up such pretext are sadly in ignorance of the history of\nthat dark period. So far from asserting the slightest pretence of guilt\non the part of such acts accused of as commonly constitute sedition and\nhigh treason, the statute of Elizabeth under which they were sent to\nthe gallows only made it necessary to show that they were Englishmen\nand Catholic priests, and were arrested in England. The statute, in\nfact, enacted substantially that, \u201cif any Jesuit, seminary priest, or\ndeacon, or religious or ecclesiastical person whatever, born within\nthe realm, shall come into, be, or remain in any part of this realm,\nevery such offence shall be taken and adjudged to be high treason.\u201d\nThe indictment against Southwell was \u201cdrawn up by Cook, the queen\u2019s\nsolicitor,\u201d says the S. Omer MS. Now, \u201cCook, the queen\u2019s solicitor\u201d\nhere referred to was no less a personage than the great Coke. Here is\nthe indictment presented by him in Southwell\u2019s case, from which it will\nbe seen that the prisoner was charged only with the crimes of, _first_,\nbeing a priest of English birth; _second_, of having remained in the\ncounty of Middlesex:\n\n \u201cThe jury present, on the part of our sovereign lady the queen, that\n Robert Southwell, late of London, clerk, born within this kingdom\n of England; to wit, since the feast of S. John the Baptist, in the\n first year of the reign of her majesty, and before the first day of\n May, in the thirty-second year of the reign of our lady the queen\n aforesaid, made and ordained priest by authority derived and pretended\n from the See of Rome; not having the fear of God before his eyes, and\n slighting the laws and statutes of this realm of England, without any\n regard to the penalty therein contained, on the 20th day of June, the\n thirty-fourth year of the reign of our lady the queen, at Uxenden, in\n the county of Middlesex, traitorously, and as a false traitor to our\n lady the queen, was and remained, contrary to the form of the statute\n in such case set forth and provided, and contrary to the peace of our\n said lady the queen, her crown, and dignities.\u201d\n\nThe grand jury having found the bill, Father Southwell was ordered to\ncome up to the bar. He readily obeyed, and, bowing down his head, made\na low reverence to his judges; then modestly held up his hand according\nto custom, and, being asked whether he was guilty or not guilty, he\nanswered, \u201cI confess that I was born in England, a subject to the\nqueen\u2019s majesty, and that, by authority derived from God, I have been\npromoted to the sacred order of priesthood in the Roman Church, for\nwhich I return most hearty thanks to his divine Majesty. I confess,\nalso, that I was at Uxenden, in Middlesex, at that time, when, being\nsent for thither by trick and deceit, I fell into your hands, as is\nwell known; but that I never entertained any designs or plots against\nthe queen or kingdom, I call God to witness, the revenger of perjury;\nneither had I any other design in returning home to my native country\nthan to administer the sacraments according to the rite of the Catholic\nChurch to such as desired them.\u201d\n\nHere the judge interrupted him, and told him that he was to let all\nthat alone, and plead directly guilty or not guilty. Upon which he\nsaid, _he was not guilty of any treason whatsoever_. And being asked by\nwhat he would be tried, he said, \u201cBy God and by you.\u201d The judge told\nhim he was to answer, \u201cBy God and his country,\u201d which, at first, he\nrefused, alleging that the laws of his country were disagreeable to the\nlaw of God, and that he was unwilling these poor harmless men of the\njury, whom they obliged to represent the country, should have any share\nin their guilt, or any hand in his death. \u201cBut,\u201d said he, \u201cif through\nyour iniquity it must be so, and I cannot help it, be it as you will; I\nam ready to be judged by God and my country.\u201d When the twelve were to\nbe sworn, he challenged none of them, saying that they were all equally\nstrangers to him, and therefore charity did not allow him to except\nagainst any one of them more than another.\n\nAfter Coke had presented the case to the jury, they went aside to\nconsult about the verdict, and in a short time brought him in guilty.\nHe was asked if he had anything more to say for himself why sentence\nshould not be pronounced against him? He said: \u201cNothing; but from my\nheart I beg of Almighty God to forgive all who have been any ways\naccessory to my death.\u201d The judge having pronounced sentence according\nto the usual form, Father Southwell made a very low bow, returning him\nmost hearty thanks as for an unspeakable favor. The judge offered him\nthe help of a minister to prepare him to die. Father Southwell desired\nhe would not trouble him upon that head; that the grace of God would\nbe more than sufficient for him. And so, being sent back to Newgate\nthrough the streets, lined with people, he discovered, all the way, the\noverflowing joy of his heart in his eyes, in his whole countenance, and\nin every gesture and motion of his body. He was again put down into\nlimbo, at his return to Newgate, where he spent the following night,\nthe last of his life, in prayer, full of the thoughts of the journey he\nwas to take the next day, through the gate of martyrdom, into a happy\neternity; to enjoy for ever the sovereign object of his love.\n\nWe have seen by what device and with what ill success the officials\ndirecting the execution sought, on the next morning, to draw away the\ncrowd from Tyburn where Father Southwell was to be \u201chung, bowelled, and\nquartered.\u201d\n\n\nEXECUTIONS UNDER ELIZABETH.\n\nThe modern reader generally, and very naturally, supposes that this\nsentence, horrible as it is in its simplest form, would be carried\nout as stated, that is to say, that, when the condemned man was hung\nuntil dead, his body was then butchered as described. This probably was\nthe intention of the law, and the latter two of the three incidents\nof the executions were intended more as indignities to the remains\nof a criminal supposed to be guilty of the greatest of human crimes\nthan as any part of the means of procuring death. But under the\nreign of Elizabeth the cruelty and bestiality of the mode in which\nthe horrible sentence was carried out had reached its height. As a\ngeneral thing, the victim was butchered alive. According to the whim\nor the bloodthirstiness of the executioner, the condemned man was\nallowed to hang a short time, or he was scarcely swung off before he\nwas cut down and the hangman was\u2014as he is described in a well-known\nphrase\u2014\u201cgrabbling among his entrails.\u201d Sometimes the executioner would\nspring upon the body as it was swung off, and plunge his knife into the\nvictim before they reached the ground in their fall together. When a\nyoung priest named Edward Genings was executed, in 1591, the butchery\nwas superintended by Topcliffe, who adjured the victim to submit and\nrecant and he should be pardoned. His reply was: \u201cI know not in what I\nhave offended my dear anointed princess; if I had, I would willingly\nask forgiveness. If she be offended with me because I am a priest,\nand because I profess my faith and will not turn minister against my\nconscience, I shall be, I trust, excused and innocent before God. I\nmust obey God, saith S. Peter, rather than men.\u201d At this Topcliffe was\nenraged, and bade the hangman turn the ladder; scarcely giving him time\nto say a _Pater Noster_. Cut down by his order before he was dead, the\nbutchery began, and, the hangman\u2019s hand being already on his heart,\nGenings was heard to say, \u201cSancte Gregori, ora pro me!\u201d\u2014which the\nhangman hearing, he swore, \u201c_Zounds, see, his heart is in my hand_, and\nyet Gregory is in his mouth! O egregious papist!\u201d[25]\n\nWe return to Father Southwell, who was drawn on a hurdle or sled from\nNewgate to Tyburn, and resume the account of the S. Omer\u2019s MS.: \u201cWhen\nhe was come to the place, getting up into the cart, he made the sign of\nthe cross in the best manner that he could, his hands being pinion\u2019d,\nand began to speak to the people those words of the apostle (Rom. xiv),\n\u2018Whether we live, we live to the Lord, or whether we die, we die to the\nLord; therefore, whether we live or die, we belong to the Lord.\u2019 Here\nthe sheriff would have interrupted him, but he begged leave that he\nmight go on, assuring him that he would utter nothing that should give\noffence. Then he spoke as follows: \u2018I am come to this place to finish\nmy course, and to pass out of this miserable life; and I beg of my Lord\nJesus Christ, in whose most precious Passion and Blood I place my hope\nof salvation, that he would have mercy on my soul. I confess I am a\nCatholic priest of the Holy Roman Church, and a religious man of the\nSociety of Jesus; on which account I owe eternal thanks and praises to\nmy God and Saviour.\u2019 Here he was interrupted by a minister telling him\nthat, if he understood what he had said in the sense of the Council of\nTrent, it was damnable doctrine. But the minister was silenc\u2019d by the\nstanders-by, and Mr. Southwell went on, saying: \u2018Sir, I beg of you not\nto be troublesome to me for this short time that I have to live: I am a\nCatholic, and in whatever manner you may please to interpret my words,\nI hope for my salvation by the merits of Our Lord Jesus Christ; and as\nto the queen, I never attempted, nor contrived, or imagined any evil\nagainst her, but have always prayed for her to Our Lord, and for this\nshort time of my life still pray, that, in his infinite mercy, he would\nbe pleased to give her all such gifts and graces which he sees, in his\ndivine wisdom, to be most expedient for the welfare both of her soul\nand body, in this life and in the next. I recommend in like manner, to\nthe same mercy of God, my poor country, and I implore the divine bounty\nto favor it with his light and the knowledge of his truth, to the\ngreater advancement of the salvation of souls, and the eternal glory of\nhis divine Majesty. In fine, I beg of the almighty and everlasting God,\nthat this my death may be for my own and for my country\u2019s good, and the\ncomfort of the Catholics my brethren.\u2019\n\n\u201cHaving finished these words, and looking for the cart to be\nimmediately drove away, he again blessed himself, and, with his eyes\nraised to heaven, repeated with great calmness of mind and countenance,\n\u2018Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit,\u2019 with other short\nejaculations, till the cart was drawn off. The unskilful hangman had\nnot applied the noose of the rope to the proper place, so that he\nseveral times made the sign of the cross whilst he was hanging, and was\nsome time before he was strangled, which some perceiving, drew him by\nthe legs to put an end to his pain, and when the executioner was for\ncutting the rope before he was dead, the gentlemen and people that were\npresent cried out three several times, \u2018Hold, hold!\u2019 for the behavior\nof the servant of God was so edifying in these his last moments, that\neven the Protestants who were present at the execution were much\naffected with the sight.\u201d After he was dead he was cut down and the\nremainder of the sentence carried out. Turnbull relates that \u201cLord\nMountjoy (Charles Blount), who happened to be present, was so struck by\nthe martyr\u2019s constancy that he exclaimed, \u2018May my soul be with this\nman\u2019s!\u2019 and he assisted in restraining those who would have cut the\nrope while he was still in life.\u201d\n\nFather Southwell\u2019s reverend and Protestant biographer declares, in\nconcluding his relation of the execution: \u201cI must regard our worthy as\na \u2018martyr\u2019 in the deepest and grandest sense\u2014a good man, and full of\nthe Holy Ghost. I should blush for my Protestantism if I did not hold\nin honor, yea reverence, his stainless and beautiful memory.\n\n  \u2018Through this desert, day by day,\n  Wandered not his steps astray,\n  Treading still the royal way.\u2019\n\n  \u2014_Paradisus Anim\u00e6._\n\n\u201cSo perished Father Southwell, at thirty-three years of age, and so,\nunhappily, have perished many of the wise and virtuous of the earth.\nConscious of suffering in the supposed best of causes, he seems to have\nmet death without terror\u2014to have received the crown of martyrdom not\nonly with resignation, but with joy.\u201d[26]\n\nIt is matter of regret that there exists no authentic portrait of\nSouthwell. His biographer is of opinion that a genuine likeness of him\nwould have shown an intellectual, etherealized face, and fancies that\nhe might have sat for the portrait of the Prior in _The Lady of Garaye_:\n\n  \u201cTender his words, and eloquently wise;\n  Mild the pure fervor of his watchful eyes;\n  Meek with serenity and constant prayer,\n  The luminous forehead, high and broad and bare.\n  The thin mouth, though not passionless, yet still\n  With a sweet calm that speaks an angel\u2019s will.\n  Resolving service to his God\u2019s behest,\n  And ever musing how to serve _him_ best,\n  Not old, nor young; with manhood\u2019s gentlest grace,\n  Pale to transparency the pensive face,\n  Pale not with sickness but with studious thought,\n  The body tasked, the fine mind overwrought;\n  With something faint and fragile in the whole,\n  As though \u2018twere but a lamp to hold a soul.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nPART SECOND.\u2014POET.\n\n\nAnd here, first, a few words on the prose writings of Southwell. We\nhave already referred to the remarkable letter of admonition by him\naddressed to his father. It is a severe test to put the prose of any\ncultivated language to that of comparison with the productions of the\nsame tongue nearly three centuries later. And yet this letter will\nsupport such comparison surprisingly well both as to substance and\nstyle. The reader will bear in mind the peculiar circumstances under\nwhich Southwell addressed this\n\n\nLETTER TO HIS FATHER.\n\n \u201cI am not of so unnatural a kind, of so wild an education, or so\n unchristian a spirit, as not to remember the root out of which I have\n branched, or to forget my secondary maker and author of my being. It\n is not the carelessness of a cold affection, nor the want of a due and\n reverent respect, that has made me such a stranger to my native home,\n and so backward in defraying the debt of a thankful mind, but only\n the iniquity of these days that maketh my presence perilous, and the\n discharge of my duties an occasion of danger. I was loath to enforce\n an unwilling courtesy upon any, or by seeming officious to become\n offensive; deeming it better to let time digest the fear that my\n return into the realm had bred in my kindred than abruptly to intrude\n myself, and to purchase their danger, whose good-will I so highly\n esteem. I never doubted but what the belief, which to all my friends\n by descent and pedigree is, in a manner, hereditary, framed in them a\n right persuasion of my present calling, not suffering them to measure\n their censures of me by the ugly terms and odious epithets wherewith\n heresy hath sought to discredit my functions, but rather by the\n reverence of so worthy a sacrament and the sacred usages of all former\n ages. Yet, because I might easily perceive by apparent conjectures\n that many were more willing to hear of me than from me, and readier\n to praise than to use my endeavors, I have hitherto bridled my desire\n to see them by the care and jealousy of their safety; and banished\n myself from the scene of my cradle in my own country. I have lived\n like a foreigner, finding among strangers that which, in my nearest\n blood, I presumed not to seek.\u201d\n\nThen, regretting that he has been barred from affording to his dearest\nfriends that which hath been eagerly sought and beneficially attained\nby mere strangers, he exclaims passionately:\n\n \u201cWho hath more interest in the grape than he who planted the vine?\n Who more right to the crop than he who sowed the corn? or where can\n the child owe so great service as to him to whom he is indebted for\n his very life and being? With young Tobias I have travelled far, and\n brought home a freight of spiritual sustenance to enrich you, and\n medicinable receipts against your ghostly maladies. I have with Esau,\n after long toil in pursuing a long and painful chase, returned with\n the full prey you were wont to love, desiring thereby to ensure your\n blessing. I have, in this general famine of all true and Christian\n food, with Joseph prepared abundance of the mead of angels for the\n repast of your soul. And now my desire is that my drugs may cure you,\n my prey delight you, and my provisions feed you, by whom I have been\n cured, enlightened, and fed myself; that your courtesies may, in part,\n be counterveiled, and my duty, in some sort, performed.\n\n \u201cDespise not, good sire, the youth of your son, neither deem your\n God measureth his endowments by number of years. Hoary senses are\n often couched under youthful locks, and some are riper in the spring\n than others in the autumn of their age. God chose not Esau himself,\n nor his eldest son, but young David, to conquer Goliath and to rule\n his people; not the most aged person, but David, the most innocent\n youth, delivered Susannah from the iniquity of the judges. Christ,\n at twelve years of age, was found in the temple questioning with\n the greatest doctors. A true Elias can conceive that a little cloud\n may cast a large and abundant shower; and the Scripture teacheth us\n that God unveileth to little ones that which he concealeth from the\n wisest sages. His truth is not abashed by the minority of the speaker;\n for out of the mouths of infants and sucklings he can perfect his\n praises.... The full of your spring-tide is now fallen, and the stream\n of your life waneth to a low ebb; your tired bark beginneth to leak,\n and _grateth oft upon the gravel of the grave_; therefore it is high\n time for you to strike sail and put into harbor, lest, remaining in\n the scope of the winds and waves of this wicked time, some unexpected\n gust should dash you upon the rock of eternal ruin.\u201d\n\nThe entire letter is given in both Walter and Turnbull\u2019s _Memoirs of\nSouthwell_, and has been extravagantly praised as being the composition\nof Sir Walter Raleigh, among whose _Remains_ it is frequently\nreprinted. Mr. Grosart, a Protestant clergyman, says of it: \u201cI know\nnothing comparable with the mingled affection and prophetlike fidelity,\nthe wise instruction, correction, reproof, the full rich scripturalness\nand quaint applications, the devoutness, the insistence, the pathos of\nthis letter.\u201d The edition of Sir Walter Raleigh\u2019s _Remains_, published\nin London in 1675, was the subject of an article in the _Retrospective\nReview_ for 1820, in which the reviewer remarks: \u201c\u2018The Dutiful Advice\nof a Loving Son to his Aged Father\u2019 is supposed to be a libel on\nSir Walter, written by his enemies. It will be seen, however, that\nit bears a strong resemblance to his style, although the metaphor\nis more profuse and ornamental, and seems to be rather engrafted on\nhis thoughts than to spring up with them. That this piece should be\ndictated by personal hostility is strange. It contains exhortations\nthat might with the greatest propriety be directed to any man.\n\n\u201cIt is possible that it might be written by another in imitation of\nSir Walter Raleigh\u2019s \u2018Advice to his Son\u2019; _yet if he was an enemy, he\nwas of a most uncommon description_. As the advice, however, is worth\nquoting for its own merit, and is written with great force and beauty,\nwe shall give our readers an opportunity of judging for themselves.\u201d\n\nThis letter is Southwell\u2019s earliest dated prose, and was followed by a\nvariety of treatises, epistles, and pamphlets, printed on the \u201cprivate\npress\u201d at his own house in London. Besides these, there remain several\nEnglish and a large number of Latin prose writings still in manuscript.\n\u201cMary Magdalene\u2019s Funerall Teares,\u201d although prose in form, is in fact\nfar more fervid and impassioned than the greater part of his poetry.\n\n\nSOUTHWELL\u2019S POETRY.\n\nTo the readers of poetry for its merely sensuous qualities of flowing\nmeasure, attractive imagery, and brilliant description, the poems\nof Southwell possess but few attractions. Their subjects are all\nreligious, or, at least, serious; and, in reading him, we must totally\nforget the traditional pagan poet pictured to us as crowned with\nflowers, and holding in hand an overflowing anacreontic cup. Serious,\nindeed, his poems might well be, for they were all composed during\nthe intervals of thirteen bodily rackings in a gloomy prison that\nopened only upon the scaffold. And yet we look in vain among them\nfor expressions of the reproaches or repining such a fate might well\nengender, and we search with but scant result for record or trace\nof his own sufferings in the lines traced with fingers yet bent and\nsmarting with the rack. The vanity of all earthly things, the trials\nof life, the folly and wickedness of the world, the uncertainty of\nlife, and the consolations and glories of religion, are the constantly\nreturning subjects of his productions, and, however treated, they\nalways reflect the benignity and elevation of the poet\u2019s character.\n\nCertain it is that Southwell was largely read by the generation that\nimmediately succeeded him. Many years ago, Ellis[27] said: \u201cThe\nvery few copies of his works which are now known to exist are the\nremnant of at least seventeen different editions, of which eleven\nwere printed between 1593 and 1600\u201d; and at a later period, Drake, in\nhis _Shakespeare and his Times_, says:[28] \u201cBoth the poetry and the\nprose of Southwell possess the most decided merit; the former, which\nis almost entirely restricted to moral and religious subjects, flows\nin a vein of great harmony, perspicuity, and elegance, and breathes\na fascination resulting from the subject and the pathetic mode of\ntreating it which fixes and deeply interests the reader.\u201d\n\nA valuable tribute of admiration to Southwell\u2019s poetic talent is that\nof Ben Jonson, who said: \u201cthat Southwell was hanged; yet so he (Jonson)\nhad written that piece of his, \u2018The Burning Babe,\u2019 he would have been\ncontent to destroy many of his.\u201d[29] Our readers, we are sure, will\nthank us for giving it here, although we strongly suspect that Mr.\nGrosart will not approve of its modern orthography.\n\n  As I in hoary winter\u2019s night stood shivering in the snow,\n  Surprised I was with sudden heat, which made my heart to glow;\n  And lifting up a fearful eye to view what fire was near,\n  A pretty Babe all burning bright did in the air appear,\n  Who, scorched with excessive heat, such floods of tears did shed,\n  As though his floods should quench his flames which with his tears\n      were fed;\n  Alas! quoth he, but newly born, in fiery heats I frye,\n  Yet none approach to warm their hearts or feel my fire but I!\n  My faultless breast the furnace is, the fuel wounding thorns,\n  Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke, the ashes shame and scornes;\n  The fuel Justice layeth on, and Mercy blows the coals,\n  The metal in this furnace wrought are men\u2019s defiled souls,\n  For which, as now, on fire I am, to work them to their good,\n  So will I melt into a bath to washe them in my blood:\n  With this he vanished out of sight, and swiftly shrunk away,\n  And straight I called unto mind that it was Christmas day.\n\nOur limits will permit but slight citation from the body of\nSouthwell\u2019s poetry. He is most widely known by his chief poem\n\u201cS. Peter\u2019s Complaint,\u201d consisting of one hundred and thirty-six\nstanzas (six-line). But his most attractive pieces are his shorter\npoems\u2014\u201cTimes go by Turns,\u201d \u201cContent and Rich,\u201d[30] \u201cLife is but\nLoss,\u201d \u201cLook Home,\u201d \u201cLove\u2019s servile Lot,\u201d and the whole series on our\nSaviour and his Mother; and, making some allowance for the enthusiasm\nof our editor, no true lover of poetry who reads these productions of\nSouthwell will seriously dissent from Mr. Grosart\u2019s estimate of them.\n\u201cThe hastiest reader will come on \u2018thinking\u2019 and \u2018feeling\u2019 that are\nas musical as Apollo\u2019s lute, and as fresh as a spring budding spray;\nand the wording of all (excepting over-alliteration and inversion\noccasionally), is throughout of the \u2018pure well of English undefiled.\u2019\nWhen you take some of the Myrt\u00e6 and M\u00e6oni\u00e6 pieces, and read and re-read\nthem, you are struck with their condensation, their concinnity, their\npolish, their _\u00e9lan_, their memorableness. Holiness is in them not as\nscent on love-locks, but as fragrance in the great Gardener\u2019s flowers\nof fragrance. His tears are pure and white as the \u2018dew of the morning.\u2019\nHis smiles\u2014for he has humor, even wit, that must have lurked in the\nburdened eyes and corners o\u2019 mouth\u2014are sunny as sunshine. As a whole,\nhis poetry is healthy and strong, and, I think, has been more potential\nin our literature than appears on the surface. I do not think it would\nbe hard to show that others of whom more is heard drew light from him,\nas well early as more recent, from Burns to Thomas Hood. For example,\nlimiting as to the latter, I believe every reader who will compare the\ntwo deliberately will see in the \u2018Vale of Tears\u2019 the source of the\nlatter\u2019s immortal \u2018Haunted House\u2019\u2014dim, faint, weak beside it, as the\nearth-hid bulb compared with the lovely blossom of hyacinth or tulip or\nlily, nevertheless really carrying in it the original of the mightier\nafter-poem.\u201d\n\nOur warmest tribute of praise can render but scant justice to the\nintelligence, the industry, the erudition, the keen poetic sense, and\nthe enthusiasm which the editor of the volume before us has devoted to\nwhat has evidently been to him a labor of love. Mr. Grosart is well\nknown in the literary world as the editor of Crashawe and of Vaughan,\nas also of the forthcoming editions of Marvell, Donne, and Sidney.\nHis laboriously corrected version of our martyr-poet\u2019s legacy has, it\nmay be said, restored Southwell to us, so obscured had he become by\nmistakes, misprints, and false readings. Indeed Mr. Grosart\u2019s somewhat\njealous love of his subject betrays him into apparently harsh judgment\non the efforts of others, when, for instance, he declares himself\n\u201cvexed by the travesties on editing and mere carelessness of Walter\nearlier (1817) and Turnbull later (1856) in their so-called editions of\nthe poems of Father Southwell,\u201d adding: \u201cTurnbull said contemptuously,\n\u2018I refrain from criticism on Mr. Walter\u2019s text\u2019\u2014severe but not\nundeserved, only his own is scarcely one whit better, and in places\nworse.\u201d\n\nThere is one passage at the close of Mr. Grosart\u2019s interesting\npreface which has a special interest for us as Americans. We mean his\nreference to the verdict pronounced on Father Southwell\u2019s poetry by\nProf. James Russell Lowell in his charming book _My Study Windows_.\n\u201cIt seems to me,\u201d says Mr. Grosart, \u201charsh to brutality on the man\n(meet follower of him \u2018the first true gentleman that ever breathed\u2019);\nwhile on the poetry it rests on self-evidently the most superficial\nacquaintance and the hastiest generalization. To pronounce \u2018S.\nPeter\u2019s Complaint\u2019 a \u2018drawl\u2019 of thirty pages of \u2018maudlin repentance,\nin which the distinctions between the north and northeast sides of\na (_sic_) sentimentality are worthy of Duns Scotus,\u2019 shows about as\nmuch knowledge\u2014that is, ignorance\u2014of the poem as of the schoolman,\nand as another remark does of S. Peter; for, with admitted tedium, S.\nPeter\u2019s complaint sounds depths of penitence and remorse, and utters\nout emotion that flames into passion very unforgettably, while there\nare felicities of metaphor, daintinesses of word-painting, brilliancies\nof inner-portraiture, scarcely to be matched in contemporary verse. The\n\u2018paraphrase\u2019 of David (to wit, \u2018David\u2019s Peccavi\u2019) is a single short\npiece, and the \u2018punning\u2019 conceit, \u2018fears are my feres,\u2019 is common to\nsome of England\u2019s finest wits, and in the meaning of \u2018fere\u2019 not at all\nto be pronounced against. If we on this side of the Atlantic valued\nless the opinion of such a unique genius as Prof. Lowell\u2019s, if we did\nnot take him to our innermost love, we should less grieve over such\na vulgar affront offered to a venerable name as his whole paragraph\nto Southwell. I shall indulge the hope of our edition reaching the\n\u2018Study,\u2019 and persuading to a real \u2018study\u2019 of these poems, and, if so, I\ndo not despair of a voluntary reversal of the first judgment.\u201d\n\n\nARIS WILMOTT\n\npronounced Southwell to be the Goldsmith of our early poets; and\n\u2018Content and Rich,\u2019 and, \u2018Dyer\u2019s phansie turned to a Sinner\u2019s\nComplaint\u2019 warrant the great praise. But beneath the manner recalling\nGoldsmith, there is a purity and richness of thought, a naturalness, a\nfineness of expression, a harmony of versification, and occasionally a\ntide-flow of high-toned feeling, not to be met with in him.\n\n\u201cNor will Prof. Lowell deem his (I fear) hasty (mis)judgment\u2019s\nreconsideration too much to count on, after the present Archbishop of\nDublin\u2019s well-weighed words in his notes to his _Household Book of\nEnglish Poetry_ (1868):\n\n \u201c\u2018Hallam thinks that Southwell has been of late praised at least as\n much as he deserves. This may be so; yet, taking into account the\n finished beauty of such poems as this (\u201cLewd Love is Loss\u201d) and No.\n 2 (\u201cTimes go by Turns\u201d) of this collection, poems which, as far as\n they go, leave nothing to be desired, he has scarcely been praised\n more than he deserves. How in earlier times he was rated, the fact\n that there were twenty-four editions of his poems will sufficiently\n testify; though probably the creed be professed, and the death which\n he died, may have had something to do with this. Robert Southwell\n was a seminary priest, and was executed at Tyburn in the reign of\n Queen Elizabeth, in conformity with a law, which even the persistent\n plottings of too many of these at once against the life of the\n sovereign and the life of the state must altogether fail to justify or\n excuse\u2019 (pp. 391-392).\n\n\u201cTo Archbishop Trench\u2019s I add, as equally weighty and worthy, the\nfine and finely sympathetic yet discriminative judgment of Dr. George\nMacdonald in _Antiphon_ as follows:\n\n \u201c\u2018I proceed to call up one WHO WAS A POET INDEED, although\n little known as such, being a Roman Catholic, a Jesuit even, and\n therefore, in Elizabeth\u2019s reign, a traitor and subject to the\n penalties according (accruing)? Robert Southwell, thirteen times most\n cruelly tortured, could \u201cnot be induced to confess anything, not even\n the color of the horse whereon he rode on a certain day, lest from\n such indication his adversaries might conjecture in what house, or in\n company of what Catholics, he that day was,\u2019 etc.\n\n\u201cI believe, then,\u201d concludes Dr. Grosart, \u201cI shall not appeal in vain\nto Prof. Lowell to give a few hours behind his \u2018Study Windows\u2019 to a\nreperusal of some of the poems of Southwell named by us and these\nsufficiently qualified critics.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nSOMETHING ABOUT LACE.\n\n\nTHERE is probably no article, not a necessity, which has employed so\nmany heads and hands, and been the subject of such varied interests,\nas lace. The making of it has given employment to countless nunneries,\nwhere the ladies, working first and most heartily for the church, have\nalso taught this art to their pupils as an accomplishment or a means of\nsupport. It was, indeed, so peculiarly the province of the religious\nthat, long after it was done in the world, it still bore the name of\n\u201cnun\u2019s-work.\u201d\n\nIn those old days when railroads were not, and when swamps and forests\ncovered tracts of land now thick with villages and cities, country\nladies made fine needle-work their chief occupation; and it was the\ncustom in feudal times for the squires\u2019 daughters to spend some time\nin the castle, in attendance on the _ch\u00e2telaine_, where they learned\nto embroider and make lace. It was then a woman\u2019s only resource, and\nwas held in high esteem. In the cloisters of Westminster Abbey, one\nCatherine Sloper was laid to rest, in 1620, with the inscription on her\ntombstone that she was \u201cexquisite at her needle.\u201d\n\nMillions of poor women, and even men and children, have earned their\nbread by this delicate labor; women of intelligence and fair estate\nhave devoted their lives to it; and noble and regal ladies have been\nproud to excel in the art.\n\nIt is related that when Cardinals Wolsey and Campeggio went down to\nthe palace at Bridewell to seek an interview with the repudiated wife\nof Henry VIII., they found her seated among her ladies embroidering,\nand she came to meet them with a skein of red silk around her neck. In\nthose days they wrought and made lace with colored silk. We can imagine\nhow the bright floss must have trembled over the tumultuous beatings of\nthat wronged heart during the cruel interview that followed.\n\nBut the work of Catherine of Aragon was not for vanity\u2019s sake, nor even\nto pass the heavy hours. In her native Spain the rarest laces were made\nfor the church, and not only nuns, but ladies of the world, wove pious\nthoughts in with that fairy web. Perhaps nowhere else, save in Rome,\nwas the church lace so rich as in Spain. Images of favorite saints and\nMadonnas had wardrobes of regal magnificence, changed every day, and\nthe altars and vestments were no less regally adorned.\n\nBeckford writes that, in 1787, the Marchioness of Cogalhudo, wife of\nthe eldest son of the semi-regal race of Medina C\u0153li, was appointed\nMistress of the Robes to Our Lady of La Solidad, in Madrid, and that\nthe office was much coveted.\n\nIt is supposed that the peasantry of Bedfordshire, in England, first\nlearned lace-making through the charity of Queen Catherine. While at\nAmpthill, it is recorded that, when not at her devotions, she, with\nher ladies, \u201cwrought a needle-work costly and artificially, which she\nintended for the honor of God to bestow on some of the churches.\u201d\n\nThe country people had the greatest love and respect for the disgraced\nqueen; and, till lately, the lace-makers held \u201cCattern\u2019s Day,\u201d the 25th\nof November, as the holiday of their craft, \u201cin memory of good Queen\nCatherine, who, when trade was dull, burnt all her laces, and ordered\nnew to be made. The ladies of the court followed her example, and\nthe fabric once more revived.\u201d Lace was and is considered a suitable\npresent from a king to a pontiff. These earlier gifts were, it is true,\nsometimes of gold and silver lace wrought with precious stones, but\nthey were scarcely more costly than the later white-thread points. In\nthe Exhibition of 1859 was shown a dress valued at 200,000 francs, the\nmost costly work ever executed at Alen\u00e7on. This Napoleon III. purchased\nfor the empress, who, it is said, presented it to his Holiness the Pope\nas a trimming for his rochet. Also, so early as the XIIIth century, the\nEnglish cut-work was so fine that, according to Matthew Paris, Pope\nInnocent IV. sent official letters to some of the Cistercian abbots\nof England to procure a certain quantity of those vestments for his\nown use. His Holiness had seen and admired the orfrays of the English\nclergy.\n\nThe finest specimens extant of this old English work (_opus\nAnglicanum_) are the cope and maniple of S. Cuthbert, taken from his\ncoffin many years ago in the cathedral of Durham, and now preserved in\nthe chapter library of that city. One who has seen them declares them\nbeautiful beyond description.\n\nThis work seems to have been at first used only for ecclesiastical\npurposes, and the making of it to have been a secret preserved in the\nmonasteries.\n\nNor have the clergy been merely the wearers of lace. We hear of monks\nbeing praised for their skill in \u201cimbrothering\u201d; and S. Dunstan himself\ndid not disdain to design patterns for church lace. Pattern-books for\nthese needle-laces were made by monks as well as laymen, and plates\nin them represent men seated at the embroidering frame. Some of these\nold pattern books of the XVIth century are preserved in the library\nof S. Genevi\u00e8ve at Paris, inherited from the monastery of that name.\nThese books are prized and sought for as some of the earliest specimens\nof block-printing. But few remain, and doubtless their high price\nprevented them from being made in great numbers. Their place was taken\nby samplers, into which were copied the patterns desired. From these\nold lace-samplers come the later alphabetical samplers, which many now\nliving will remember to have made in their youth.\n\nLarge quantities of rich old lace were lost in the last century, when\nthe French Revolution brought in gauzes and blondes, and fashion tossed\naside as worthless these exquisite products of the needle. In Italy,\nwhere the custom was to preserve old family lace, less was destroyed;\nbut in England it was handed over to servants or farm people, or stowed\naway in attics, and afterwards burned. Some ladies gave point-laces\nwhich now they could not afford to buy, to their children to dress\ntheir dolls with. Sometimes it was thrown away as old rags.\n\nIn the church, however, fashion had no power, and old lace has been\nusually preserved. Some collections are exceedingly valuable. Notable\namong these is that of the Rohan family, who gave princes-archbishops\nto Strasbourg. Baroness de Oberkirck, in _Memoirs of the Court of Louis\nXVI._, writes: \u201cWe met the cardinal coming out of his chapel dressed\nin a soutane of scarlet moire and rochet of inestimable value. When,\non great occasions, he officiates at Versailles, he wears an alb of\nold lace of needlepoint of such beauty that his assistants were almost\nafraid to touch it. His arms and device are worked in a medallion above\nthe large flowers.\u201d This alb is estimated at 100,000 livres.\n\nIt is impossible to exaggerate the extent to which lace was used prior\nto the French Revolution, or the immense extravagance of the sums\nspent on it. Everybody wore it, even servants emulating their masters\nand mistresses. It trimmed everything, from the towering Fontanges,\nwhich rose like a steeple from ladies\u2019 heads, to the boot-tops and\nshoe-rosettes of men. Men wore lace ruffles not only at the wrist,\nbut at the knee, lace ruffs, cravats, collars, and garters; and bed\nfurniture was made of lace, or trimmed with it, costly as it was. A\npair of ruffles would amount to 4,000 livres, a lady\u2019s cap to 1,200\nlivres. We read that Mme. du Barry gave 487 francs for lace enough to\ntrim a pillow-case, and 77 livres for a pair of ruffles. Lace fans were\nmade in 1668, and lace-trimmed bouquet-holders are not a new fancy.\nWhen the Doge of Venice made his annual visit to the convent _Delle\nVergini_, the lady abbess used to meet him in the parlor, surrounded by\nher novices, and present him a nosegay in a gold handle trimmed with\nthe richest lace that could be found in Venice.\n\nVoltaire says that the mysterious Iron Mask was passionately fond of\nfine linen and rich lace.\n\nSo extravagant had the use of this luxury become that in England\nthere was an outcry against it, and the Puritans laid great stress on\ndiscarding vanity in clothing.\n\nWe have a little scene illustrative, between the Princess Mary and\nLady Jane Grey. The princess had given the maiden some gorgeous\ndresses trimmed with lace. \u201cWhat shall I do with it?\u201d asks Lady Jane.\n\u201cGentlewoman, wear it,\u201d was the reply, a little vexed, may be. \u201cNay,\u201d\nsays Lady Jane, \u201cthat were a shame to follow my Lady Mary against God\u2019s\nwill, and leave my Lady Elizabeth, which followeth God\u2019s will.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy Lady Elizabeth,\u201d however, set aside her scruples before long, and,\nwhen queen, did not hesitate to adorn herself as bravely as she might,\nthough she had no mind her fashions should be copied by the vulgar; for\nwe read that, when the London Apprentices adopted white stitching and\nguards as ornaments for their collars, Queen Elizabeth forbade it, and\nordered that the first transgressor should be publicly whipped in the\nhall of his company.\n\nThere is another incident, which, as one of the sex in whom vanity is\nsupposed to be prominent, we take special pleasure in relating.\n\nThe Puritan nobles had not in dress conformed to Puritan rules as\nstrictly as some desired, the foreign ambassadors dressing as richly as\never. When, therefore, the Spanish envoy accredited to the Protectorate\nof Cromwell arrived and was about to have an audience, Harrison begged\nLord Warwick and Colonel Hutchinson to set an example by not wearing\neither gold or silver lace. These gentlemen did not disapprove of rich\nclothing, but, rather than give offence, they and their associates\nappeared the next day in plain black suits. But, to their astonishment,\nHarrison entered dressed in a scarlet coat so covered with lace and\n_clinquant_ as to hide the material of which it was made. Whereupon\nMrs. Hutchinson remarks that Harrison\u2019s \u201cgodly speeches were only\nmade that he might appear braver above the rest in the eyes of the\nstrangers.\u201d\n\nLace has frequently employed the thoughts of law-makers, and in 1698\nwas the subject of a legislative duel between England and Flanders.\nThere was already in England an act prohibiting the importation of\nbone-lace (_i.e._ bobbin-lace), loom-lace, cut-work, and needle-work\npoint; but this proving ineffectual, since everybody smuggled, another\nact was passed setting a penalty of twenty shillings a yard and\nforfeiture. We regret to learn that forfeiture meant, in some cases at\nleast, burning, and that large quantities of the finest Flanders lace\nwere seized and actually burned. It reminds one of the burning of Don\nQuixote\u2019s library of chivalric records.\n\nFlanders, however, with its nunneries full of lace-makers, and its\nthousands of people depending on the trade, had no mind to be thus\ncrippled without retaliation. An act was immediately passed prohibiting\nthe importation of English wool; whereupon the wool-staplers echoed\nwith addition the groans of the lace-makers, and England was forced to\nrepeal the act so far as the Low Countries were concerned.\n\nAs we have said, everybody in England smuggled lace in those days.\nSmuggling seems indeed to be everywhere looked on as the least shameful\nof law-breaking. But never, perhaps, were officers of the customs as\nincorruptible as these. Suspicious persons were searched, no matter\nwhat their rank, and no person living within miles of a seaport dared\nto wear a bit of foreign lace unless they could prove that it had been\nhonestly obtained. Many were the devices by which men and women sought\nto elude the customs. When a deceased clergyman of the English Church\nwas conveyed home from the Low Countries for burial, it was found that\nonly his head, hands, and feet were in the coffin\u2014the body had been\nreplaced by Flanders lace of immense value. Years after, when the\nbody of his Grace the Duke of Devonshire, who had died in France, was\nbrought over, the custom-house officers not only searched the coffin,\nbut poked the corpse with a stick to make sure that it was a body.\nThe High Sheriff of Westminster was more fortunate, for he succeeded\nin smuggling \u00a36,000 worth of lace in the coffin that brought over from\nCalais the body of Bishop Atterbury.\n\nIn the present century, Lady Ellenborough, wife of the lord\nchief-justice, was stopped near Dover, and a large quantity of valuable\nlace found secreted in the lining of her carriage.\n\nAt one period, much lace was smuggled into France from Belgium by means\nof dogs trained for the purpose. A dog was caressed and petted at home,\nthen, after a while, sent across the frontier, where he was tied up,\nstarved, and ill-treated. The skin of a larger dog was then fitted to\nhis body, the intervening space filled with lace, and the poor animal\nwas released. Of course he made haste to scamper back to his former\nhome.\n\n_A propos_ of the customs, there is a story in which George III.\nhad an active part, and displayed his determination to protect home\nmanufactures.\n\nOn the marriage of his sister, Princess Augusta, to the Duke of\nBrunswick, the king ordered that all stuffs and laces worn should be of\nEnglish manufacture. The nobility, intent on outshining each other on\nthis grand occasion, took but little notice of the command. We may well\nbelieve that the rooms of the court milliner were gorgeous with these\npreparations; that there was unusual hurry and flurry lest everything\nshould not be done in time; and that high-born and beautiful ladies\nwere constantly besieging the doors, bringing additions to the stock.\nFancy, then, the consternation of the expectant and excited dames,\nwhen, only three days before the wedding, the customs made a descent on\nthis costly finery, and carried off in one fell swoop the silver, the\ngold, and the laces! There was not only the loss of these dear gewgaws\nto mourn, but a new toilet to be prepared in three days!\n\nThe camp, too, as well as the church and the court, has cherished lace,\nand the warriors of those days did not fight less gallantly because\nthey went into battle elegantly arrayed. Lace ruffles at the wrist did\nnot weaken the sword or sabre stroke, nor laces on the neck and bosom\nmake faint the heart beneath. Possibly they helped to a nobler courtesy\nand a braver death; for slovenly dress tends to make slovenly manners,\nand slovenly manners often lead to careless morals.\n\nA graceful fashion called the Steinkerk had a martial origin, and was\nnamed from the battle so-called, wherein Marshal Luxembourg won the day\nagainst William of Orange. On that day, the young princes of the blood\nwere suddenly and unexpectedly called into battle. Hastily knotting\nabout their necks the laced cravats then in fashion, and usually tied\nwith great nicety, they rushed into action, and won the fight.\n\nIn honor of that event, both ladies and gentlemen wore their cravats\nand scarfs loosely twisted and knotted, the ends sometimes tucked\nthrough the button-hole, sometimes confined by a large oval-shaped\nbrooch; and Steinkerks became the rage.\n\nBut evidence enough, perhaps, has been brought to prove that lace is\nnot an entirely trivial subject of discourse. We may, however, add that\nDr. Johnson condescended to define net lace in his most Johnsonian\nmanner. It is, he says, \u201canything reticulated or decussated, with\ninterstices between the intersections.\u201d After that, ladies may wear\ntheir ruffles not only with pleasure, but with respect; for if he was\nso learned in defining plain net, what unimaginable erudition would\nhave entered his definition of Honiton guipure, or the points of\nAlen\u00e7on, Brussels, or Venice!\n\nSpiders were probably the first creatures that made lace, though the\ntrees held a delicate white network under the green of their leaves.\nAfter the spiders came the human race, following closely. Old Egyptian\npictures and sculptures show us women engaged in twisting threads;\nand the Scriptures are full of allusions to \u201cfine twined linen\u201d and\nneedle-work. Almost as soon as garments were worn they began to be\nadorned at the edges; and among savages, to whom garments were of\nslight consequence, tattooing was practised, which is the same idea in\na different form.\n\nThe Israelites probably learned from the Egyptians, and from them the\nart travelled westward. One theory is that Europe learned it from the\nSaracens. It matters but little to us which is the real version. It\nis most likely that all the children of Adam and Eve had some fancy\nof this sort which reached greater perfection in the more cultivated\ntribes and nations, and was by them taught to the others. The waved\nor serrated edges of leaves would suggest such adornments to them, or\nthe fur hanging over the edge of the rude skins they wore. The very\nwaves of the sea, that curled over in snowy spray at their tips, had a\nsuggestion of lace and ornamental bordering; and the clouds of sunrise\nand sunset were fringed with crimson and gold by the sun. Flower petals\nwere finished with a variegated edge, and it was not enough that birds\nhad wings, but they must be ornamented.\n\nWhen embroidery at length became an art, the Phrygian women excelled\nall others. Presently close embroidery became open-worked or\ncut-worked, and out of cut-work grew lace.\n\nThis cut-work was made in various ways. In one kind, a network of\nthread was made on a frame, and under this was gummed a piece of fine\ncloth. Then those parts which were to remain thick were sewed round on\nto the cloth; and afterward the superfluous cloth was cut away.\n\nAnother kind was made entirely of thread, which was arranged on a frame\nin lines diverging from the centre like a spider\u2019s web, and worked\nacross and over with other threads, forming geometrical patterns.\nLater, a fabric still more like our modern lace was made. A groundwork\nwas netted by making one stitch at the beginning, and increasing a\nstitch on each side till the requisite size was obtained. On this\nground was worked the pattern, sometimes darned in with counted\nstitches, sometimes cut out of linen, and _appliqu\u00e9_. Still another\nkind was drawn-work, threads being drawn from linen or muslin, and the\nthinned cloth worked into lace. Specimens still exist of a six-sided\nlace net made in this way, with sprigs worked over it.\n\nThe earlier rich laces were not made of white thread. Gold, silver,\nand silk were used. The Italians, who claim to have invented point\nlace, were the great makers of gold lace. Cyprus stretched gold into\na wire, and wove it. From Cyprus the art reached Genoa, Venice, and\nMilan; and gradually all Europe learned to make gold lace. In England,\nthe complaint was raised that the gold of the realm was sensibly\ndiminishing in this way, and in 1635 an act was passed prohibiting the\nmelting down of bullion to make gold or silver \u201cpurl.\u201d And not only\nin Western and Southern Europe was this luxury fashionable. A piece\nof gold lace was found in a Scandinavian barrow opened in the XVIIIth\ncentury. Perhaps the lace was made by some captive woman stolen by\nthe vikings, a later Proserpine ravished from the South, who wove the\nweb with her pale fingers as she sat in that frozen Hades, while her\npiratical blue-eyed Pluto looked on marvelling, and waiting to catch a\nsmile from her relenting eyes. Gold lace was sold by weight.\n\nSome of the most magnificent old points of Venice were made of silk,\nthe natural cream-color. The rose Venice point\u2014_Gros point de Venice,\nPunto a rilievo_\u2014was the richest and most complicated of all points.\nIt was worked of silk, on a parchment pattern, the flowers connected by\n_brides_. The outlines of these flowers were in relief, cotton being\nplaced inside to raise them, and countless beautiful stitches were\nintroduced. Sometimes they were in double, sometimes in triple, relief,\nand each flower and leaf was edged with fine regular pearls. This\npoint was highly prized for albs, _collerettes_, _berthes_, and costly\ndecorations.\n\nAnother kind of Venice lace\u2014knotted point\u2014had a charmingly\nromantic origin. A young girl in one of the islands of the Lagune, a\nlace-worker, was betrothed to a young sailor, who brought her home from\nthe Southern seas a bunch of pretty coralline called mermaid\u2019s lace.\nMoved partly by love for the giver, and partly by admiration for the\ngraceful nature of the seaweed, with its small white knots united by\na _bride_, the girl tried to imitate it with her needle, and, after\nseveral unsuccessful efforts, produced a delicate guipure, which soon\nwas admired all over Europe.\n\nWe must not, in this connection, forget that handkerchief given by\nOthello to Desdemona, the loss of which cost her so dear. It was\nwrought, he tells her, by an Egyptian sibyl, who\n\n  \u201cIn her prophetic fury sewed the work.\u201d\n\nAnd he declares that\n\n  \u201cThe worms were hallowed that did breed the silk.\u201d\n\nThe flat points of Venice were no less exquisite than the raised, the\npatterns sometimes being human figures, animals, cupids, and flowers.\n\nIn the XVIth century, Barbara Uttmann invented pillow-net, a great\nadvance in the making of lace. This lady\u2019s father had moved from\nNuremberg to the Hartz Mountains, to superintend mines there, and there\nthe daughter married a rich master-miner, Christopher Uttmann, and\nlived with him in his castle of Annaberg. Seeing the mountain girls\nweave nets for the miners to wear over their hair, her inventive mind\nsuggested a new and easier way of making fine netting. Her repeated\nfailures we know not of, but we know of her success. In 1561 she set up\na workshop in her own name, and this branch of industry spread so that\nsoon 30,000 persons were employed, with a revenue of 1,000,000 thalers.\nIn 1575, the inventress died and was laid to rest in the churchyard of\nAnnaberg, where her tombstone records that she was the \u201cbenefactress of\nthe Hartz Mountains.\u201d\n\nHonor to Barbara Uttmann!\n\nPillow-lace, as most people know, is made on a round or oval board\nstuffed so as to form a cushion. On this is fixed a stiff piece of\nparchment with the pattern pricked on it. The threads are wound on\nbobbins about the size of a pencil, with a groove at the neck. As many\nof the threads as will start well together are tied at the ends in a\nknot, and the knot fastened with a pin at the edge of the pattern;\nthen another bunch, and so on, till the number required by the lace is\ncompleted. The lace is formed by crossing or intertwining these bobbins.\n\nHand-made lace is of two kinds, point and pillow. Point means a\nneedle-work lace made on a parchment pattern, also a particular kind\nof stitch. The word is sometimes incorrectly applied; as, _point de\nMalines_, _point de Valenciennes_, both these laces being made on a\npillow.\n\nLace consists of two parts, the ground and the flower pattern or gimp.\n\nThe plain ground is called in French _entoilage_, on account of its\ncontaining the ornament, which is called _toil\u00e9_, from the texture\nresembling linen, or being made of that material or of muslin.\n\nThe honeycomb network or ground\u2014in French, _fond_, _champ_,\n_r\u00e9seau_\u2014is of various kinds: wire ground, Brussels ground, _trolly_\nground, etc. Double ground is so called because twice the number of\nthreads are required to make it.\n\nSome laces, points and guipures, are not worked upon a ground, the\nflowers being connected by irregular threads worked over with _point\nnou\u00e9_ (button-hole stitch), sometimes with pearl loops (_picot_).\nSuch are the points of Venice and Spain and most of the guipures. To\nthese uniting-threads lace-makers in Italy give the name of \u201clegs,\u201d in\nEngland \u201cpearl ties,\u201d in France \u201cbrides.\u201d\n\nThe flower is made either together with the ground, as in Valenciennes\nand Mechlin, or separately, and then either worked in or sewn on\n(_applique_).\n\nThe open-work stitches in the patterns are called \u201cmodes,\u201d \u201cjours,\u201d or\n\u201cfillings.\u201d\n\nThe early name of lace in England and France was _passement_, so\ncalled because the threads were passed by each other in the making.\nThe learned derive lace from _lacina_, a Latin word signifying the hem\nor fringe of a garment. _Dentelle_ comes from the little toothed edge\nwith which lace was finished after awhile. At first, it was _passement\ndentel\u00e9_, finally _dentelle_.\n\nThe meaning of guipure is hard to connect with the present use of the\nword, which is very loose and undefined. It was originally made of silk\ntwisted round a little strip of thin parchment or vellum; and silk\ntwisted round a thick thread or cord was called guipure, hence the name.\n\nThe modern Honiton is called guipure, also Maltese lace and its\nBuckingham imitations. The Italians called the old raised points of\nVenice and Spain guipures. It is hard to know what claim any of these\nhave to the name.\n\nA fine silk guipure is made in the harems of Turkey, of which specimens\nwere shown in the International Exhibition. This _point de Turquie_ is\nbut little known, and is costly. It mostly represents black, white, or\nmixed colors, fruit, flowers, or foliage.\n\nThe lace once made in Malta was a coarse kind of Mechlin or\nValenciennes of one arabesque pattern; but since 1833, when an English\nlady induced a Maltese woman named Ciglia to copy in white an old Greek\ncoverlet, the Ciglia family commenced the manufacture of black and\nwhite Maltese guipure, till then unknown in the island.\n\nIt is the fineness of the thread which renders the real Brussels\nground, _vrai r\u00e9seau_, so costly. The finest is spun in dark\nunderground rooms; for contact with the dry air causes the thread to\nbreak. The spinner works by feeling rather than sight, though a dark\npaper is placed to throw the thread out, and a single ray of light is\nadmitted to fall on the work. She examines every inch drawn from her\ndistaff, and, when any inequality occurs, stops her wheel to repair the\nmischief.\n\nThe _r\u00e9seau_ is made in three different ways: by hand, on the pillow,\nand more lately by machinery\u2014the last a Brussels-net made of Scotch\ncotton. The needle ground costs three times as much as the pillow; but\nit is stronger and easier to repair, the pillow ground always showing\nthe join.\n\nThere are two kinds of flowers: those made with the needle, _point \u00e0\nl\u2019aiguille_, and those on the pillow, _point plat_. The best flowers\nare made in Brussels itself, where they excel in the relief (_point\nbrode_).\n\nEach part of Brussels lace is made by a different hand. One makes the\n_vrai r\u00e9seau_; another, the footing; a third, the point flowers; a\nfourth works the open _jours_; a fifth unites the different sections of\nthe ground together; a sixth makes the _plat_ flowers; a seventh sews\nthe flowers upon the ground.\n\nThe pattern is designed by the head of the fabric, who, having cut the\nparchment into pieces, hands it out ready pricked. In the modern lace,\nthe work of the needle and pillow are combined.\n\nMechlin lace, sometimes called _broderie de Malines_ is a pillow lace\nmade all in one piece, its distinguishing feature being a broad, flat\nthread which forms the flower. It is very light and transparent, and\nanswers very well as a summer lace. It is said that Napoleon I. admired\nthis lace, and that, when he first saw the light Gothic tracery of the\ncathedral spire at Antwerp, he exclaimed: \u201c_C\u2019est comme de la dentelle\nde Malines._\u201d\n\nValenciennes is also a pillow lace, but the ground and gimp, or flower,\nare all made of the same thread.\n\nThe _vrai Valenciennes_, as it was at first named, that made in the\ncity itself, was made in the XVth century, of a three-thread twisted\nflax, and reached its climax about the middle of the XVIIIth century,\nwhen there were from 3,000 to 4,000 lace-makers in the city alone.\nThen fashion began to prefer the lighter and cheaper fabrics of\nArras, Lille, and Brussels, till in 1790 the number of lace-workers\nhad diminished to 250. Napoleon I. tried unsuccessfully to revive\nthe manufacture, and in 1851 only two lace-makers remained, both\nover eighty years of age. This _vrai Valenciennes_ which, from its\ndurability, was called _les eternelles Valenciennes_, could not, it\nwas asserted, be made outside the walls of the city. It was claimed\nthat, if a piece of lace were begun at Valenciennes and finished\noutside of the walls, that part not made in the city would be visibly\nless beautiful than the other, though continued by the same hand, with\nthe same thread, upon the same pillow. This was attributed to some\npeculiarity of the atmosphere. That lace, therefore, which was made in\nthe neighborhood of the city was called _b\u00e2tarde_ and _gausse_.\n\nThe makers of this lace worked in underground cellars from four in the\nmorning till eight at night. Young girls were the chief workers, great\ndelicacy of touch being required, any other kind of work spoiling the\nhand for this. Many of the women, we are told, became blind before\nreaching the age of thirty. So great was the labor of making this lace\nthat, while the Lille workers could produce from three to five ells per\nday, those of Valenciennes could not finish more than an inch and a\nhalf in that time. Some took a year to make twenty-four inches, and it\ntook ten months, working fifteen hours a day, to finish a pair of men\u2019s\nruffles.\n\nIt was considered a recommendation to have a piece of lace made all by\none hand.\n\nThis old Valenciennes was far superior to any now made under that name.\nThe _r\u00e9seau_ was fine and compact, the flowers resembling cambric\nin their texture. The fault of the lace was its color, never a pure\nwhite, but, being so long under the hand in a damp atmosphere, of a\nreddish cast. In 1840, an old lady, Mlle. Ursule, gathered the few\nold lace-makers left in the city, and made the last piece of _vrai\nValenciennes_ of any importance which has been made in the city. It was\na head-dress, and was presented by the city to the Duchesse de Nemours.\n\nIn the palmy days of Valenciennes, mothers used to hand these laces\ndown to their children as scarcely less valuable than jewels. Even\npeasant women would lay by their earnings for a year to purchase a\npiece of _vrai Valenciennes_ for a head-dress.\n\nOne of the finest specimens of this old lace known is a lace-bordered\nalb belonging to the Convent of the Visitation, at Le Puy, in Auvergne.\nThe lace is in three breadths, twenty-eight inches wide, entirely of\nthread, and very fine, though thick. The ground is a clear _r\u00e9seau_,\nthe pattern solid, of flowers and scrolls.\n\nThere is a story of Le Puy that in 1640 a sumptuary edict was issued by\nthe seneschal, forbidding all persons, without regard to age, sex, or\nrank, to wear lace of any kind. Lace-making being the chief employment\nof the women of this province, great distress resulted from the edict.\nIn this time of trial, the beggared people found a comforter in the\nJesuit F. R\u00e9gis. He not only consoled them, but he proved the sincerity\nof his sympathy by acts. He went to Toulouse, and obtained a revocation\nof the edict; and at his suggestion the Jesuits opened to the Auvergne\nlaces a market in the New World.\n\nThis good friend to the poor is now S. Francis R\u00e9gis, and is venerated\nin Auvergne as the patron saint of the lace-makers.\n\nThe finest and most elaborate Valenciennes is now made at Ypres, in\nFlanders. Instead of the close _r\u00e9seau_ of the old lace, it has a clear\nwire ground, which throws the figure out well. On a piece of this Ypres\nlace not two inches wide, from 200 to 300 bobbins are employed, and for\nlarger widths as many as 800 or more are used on the same pillow. There\nare now in Flanders 400 lace-schools, of which 157 are the property of\nreligious communities.\n\nWe may say here that lace-makers now use Scotch cotton chiefly, instead\nof linen, finding it cheaper, more elastic, and brilliant. Only\nAlen\u00e7on, some choice pieces of Brussels, and the finer qualities of\nMechlin are now made of flax. The difference can scarcely be perceived\nby the eye, and both wash equally well, but the cotton grows yellow\nwith age, while linen retains its whiteness.\n\nAlen\u00e7on, the only French lace now made on a pillow, was first made in\nFrance by an Italian worker, who, finding herself unable to teach the\nAlen\u00e7on women the true Venetian stitch, struck out a new path, and,\nby assigning to each one a different part of the work, as Brussels\ndid afterward, succeeded in producing the most elaborate point ever\nmade. Early specimens show rich scroll-work connected by _brides_. One\npiece has portraits of Louis XVI. and Maria Theresa, with the crown\nand cipher, all entwined with flowers. The patterns were not at first\nbeautiful, scarcely at all imitating nature; but their work was perfect.\n\nPoint Alen\u00e7on is made entirely by the hand, on a parchment pattern, in\nsmall pieces afterwards united by invisible thread. This art of \u201cfine\njoining\u201d was formerly a secret confined to France and Belgium, but is\nnow known in England and Ireland.\n\nEach part of this work is given to a different person, who is trained\nfrom childhood to that specialty. The number formerly required was\neighteen, but is now twelve.\n\nThe design, engraved on copper, is printed off in divisions upon\npieces of parchment ten inches long, each piece numbered in order.\nThis parchment, which is green, is pricked with the pattern, and\nsewed to a piece of very coarse linen folded double. The outline of\nthe pattern is then made by guiding two flat threads around the edge\nwith the left thumb, and fixing them by minute stitches passed with\nanother thread and needle through the holes in the parchment. The work\nis then handed over to another to make the ground, either _bride_ or\n_r\u00e9seau_. The _r\u00e9seau_ is worked back and forward from the footing, or\nsewing-on-edge, to the _picot_, or lower pearled edge. The flowers are\nworked with a fine needle and long thread, in button-hole stitch, from\nleft to right, the thread turned back when the end of the flower is\nreached, and worked over in the next row, making thus a strong fabric.\nThen come the open-work fillings and other operations, after which\nthe lace is taken from the parchment by passing a sharp razor between\nthe two folds of linen. The head of the fabric then joins the parts\ntogether. When finished, a steel instrument is passed into each flower\nto polish it.\n\nThe manufacture of Alen\u00e7on was nearly extinct when Napoleon I. restored\nits prosperity. Among the orders executed for the emperor on his\nmarriage with Marie Louise was a bed furniture of great richness.\nTester, coverlet, curtains, and pillow-cases were all of the finest\n_Alen\u00e7on \u00e0 bride_. Again the manufacture languished, though efforts\nwere made to revive it, and, in 1840, two hundred aged women\u2014all who\nwere left of the workers\u2014were gathered. But the old point had been\nmade by an hereditary set of workers, and the lace-makers they were\nobliged to call to their help from other districts could not learn\ntheir stitches, consequently changes crept in. But the manufacture\nwas revived, and some fine specimens were shown in the Exhibition of\n1851, among them a flounce valued at 22,000 francs, which had taken\nthirty-six women eighteen months to complete. This appeared afterwards\nin the Empress Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s _corbeille de mariage_.\n\nAlen\u00e7on was chiefly used in the magnificent _layette_ prepared for the\nprince imperial. The cradle-curtains were Mechlin, the coverlet of\nAlen\u00e7on lined with satin. The christening robe, mantle, and head-dress\nwere also of Alen\u00e7on, and Alen\u00e7on covered the three _corbeille_ bearing\nthe imperial arms and cipher, and trimmed the twelve dozen embroidered\nfrocks and the aprons of the imperial nurses.\n\nRemembering all the magnificence which clustered around the birth of\nthis infant, who had\n\n  \u201cQueens at his cradle, proud and ministrant,\u201d\n\none thinks with sadness of that exiled boy who now, weeping bitterly\nthe loss of a tender father, beholds receding from his gaze, like a\nsplendid dream, that throne he once seemed born to fill. Nowhere on the\nface of the earth is one who has possessed so much and lost so much as\nthat boy; and nowhere are a mother and son around whom cling such a\nromantic interest and sympathy.\n\nThe specimens of Alen\u00e7on in the Exhibition of 1862 maintained the\nreputation of the ancient fabric. _Bride_ is but little made now, and\nis merely twisted threads, far inferior to the clear hexagon of the\nlast century. This hexagon was a _bride_ worked around with _point\nnou\u00e9_.\n\nOf late, the reapplication of Alen\u00e7on flowers has been successfully\npractised by the peasant lace-workers in the neighborhood of Ostend,\nwho sew them to a fine Valenciennes ground.\n\nThe Chantilly lace, which owed its foundation to Catherine de Rohan,\nDuchesse de Longueville, has always been rather an object of luxury\nthan of commercial value. Being considered a royal fabric, and its\nproduction for the nobility alone, the lace-workers became the victims\nof revolutionary fury in \u201893, and all perished on the scaffold with\ntheir patrons. The manufacture was, however, revived, and prospered\ngreatly during the First Empire. The white blonde was the rage in Paris\nin 1805. The black was especially admired in Spain and her American\ncolonies. No other manufactories produced such beautiful scarfs,\nmantillas, and other large pieces. Calvados and Bayeux make a similar\nlace, but not so well. The real Chantilly has a very fine _r\u00e9seau_,\nand the workmanship of the flowers is close, giving the lace great\nfirmness. The so-called Chantilly shawls in the Exhibition of 1862 were\nmade at Bayeux. Chantilly produces only the extra fine shawls, dresses,\nand scarfs.\n\nHoniton owes its reputation to its sprigs. Like the Brussels, they\nare made separately. At first they were worked in with the pillow,\nafterwards _appliqu\u00e9_, or sewed on a ground of plain pillow-net. This\nnet was very beautiful, but very expensive. It was made of the finest\nthread procured from Antwerp, the market price of which, in 1790, was\n\u00a370 per pound. Ninety-five guineas have been paid a pound for this\nthread, and, in time of war, one hundred guineas. The price of the\nlace was costly in proportion, the manner of fixing it peculiar. The\nlace ground was spread out on the counter, and the worker herself\ndesired to cover it with shillings. The number of shillings that found\na place on her work was the price of it. A Honiton veil often cost a\nhundred guineas. But the invention of machine-net changed all that, and\ndestroyed not only the occupation of the makers of hand-net, but was\nthe cause of the lace falling into disrepute.\n\nDesirous to revive the work, Queen Adelaide ordered a dress of\nHoniton sprigs, on a ground of Brussels-net, the flowers to be copied\nfrom nature. The skirt of this dress was encircled with a wreath of\nelegantly designed sprigs, the initials of the flowers forming her\nmajesty\u2019s name: Amaranth, Daphne, Eglantine, Lilac, Auricula, Ivy,\nDahlia, Eglantine.\n\nQueen Victoria\u2019s wedding lace was made at Honiton, difficulty being\nfound in obtaining workers enough, the manufacture had been so little\npatronized. The dress, which cost 1,000 pounds, was entirely of Honiton\nsprigs connected on a pillow. The patterns were destroyed as soon as\nthe lace was made. Several of the princesses have had their bridal\ndresses of Honiton.\n\nThe application of Honiton sprigs upon bobbin-net has of late almost\nentirely given place to guipure. The sprigs are sewed on a piece of\nblue paper, and then united by the pillow, by cut-works, or purlings,\nor else joined with the needle, button-hole stitch being the best of\nall, or by purling which is made by the yard. But Honiton has fallen in\npublic esteem by neglecting the pattern of its lace, which does not\nwell imitate nature.\n\nA new branch of industry has lately risen there\u2014that of restoring or\nremaking old lace.\n\nWhen old lace revived, it became a mania. The literary ladies were the\nfirst to take this fever in England. Sidney, Lady Morgan, and Lady\nStepney made collections, and the Countess of Blessington left at her\ndeath several large chests full of fine antique lace.\n\nIn Paris, the celebrated dressmaker, Madame Camille, was the first one\nto bring old laces into fashion.\n\nMuch lace is taken from old tombs, cleansed, and sold, usually after\nhaving been made over. All over Europe it was the custom to bury the\ndead in lace-trimmed garments, and in some cases these burial toilets\nwere of immense value. In Bretagne, the bride, after her marriage, laid\naside her veil and dress, and never wore it again till it was put on\nafter she was dead. Many of these old tombs have been rifled, and the\ncontents sold to dealers.\n\nIn Ireland, lace-making was at one time quite successful. Swift, in the\nlast century, urged the protection of home manufactures of all kinds,\nand the Dublin Society, composed of a band of patriots organized in\n1749, encouraged the making of lace, and passed strong resolutions\nagainst the wearing of foreign lace. Lady Arabella Demy, who died in\n1792, a daughter of the Earl of Kerry, was especially active in the\nwork, and good imitations of Brussels and Ypres lace were made. In\n1829, the manufacture of Limerick lace was established. This is tambour\nwork on Nottingham-net. But the emigration of girls to America, and the\neffort of the manufacturers to produce a cheap article, thus bringing\nit into disrepute, have prevented this lace from attaining success.\n\nFor half a century, machine-lace has been striving to imitate hand-made\nlace, and in some instances with such success that the difference\ncan scarcely be perceived. In 1760 a kind of looped lace was made in\nEngland on the stocking-frame, and the fabric has been constantly\nimproving. But hand-made lace still maintains its supremacy, and is\ngrowing in favor, and old laces are more highly prized even than\nold jewels, since the former cannot be imitated, or can scarcely be\nimitated; the latter may be. There is a delicacy and finish in needle\nand pillow laces which the machine can never give; besides that,\nthe constant tendency of machine-work, when once it has attained\nexcellence, is to deteriorate.\n\nWe are glad of this revival of lace-making; for in no other way can the\nluxury of the rich in dress so well benefit women and children among\nthe poor. Most working-women have to work too hard, and they have to\nleave their homes to earn money. But lace-making accords admirably with\nfeminine taste and feminine delicacy of organization, and it can be\ndone at any time, and at home, and of every quality. It is refining,\ntoo. One can scarcely imagine a very coarse person making a very\nbeautiful lace. It teaches the worker to observe nature and art, in the\nselection and working of patterns, and it stimulates inventiveness,\nif there be any. And more than that, by the multitudinous ticking of\nthese little bobbins, and the myriad points of these shining needles,\nthousands of that tortured and terrible class called \u201cthe poor\u201d might\nbe able to keep at bay not only the wolf of hunger, but the lion of\ncrime.\n\n\n\n\nANTIQUITIES OF THE LAW.\n\n\n[WE have received this article from a very distinguished and learned\nmember of the New York bar, with an accompanying letter, in which he\nwrites, among other things, as follows:\n\n\u201cConfined as I am by my infirmities to my house, and wearying of the\nsameness of the life I have to lead, I sometimes vary my occupation by\ndelving into the \u2018Antiquities of the Law.\u2019\n\n\u201cI have lately come across an old law book published in 1711, which\nhas been several years in my library, but entirely lost sight of by me\nuntil recently.\n\n\u201cFrom that I have been compiling some articles for one of our law\njournals, and began the accompanying article for the same publication.\n\n\u201cWhile writing it, it occurred to me that it might be more useful,\nif not more interesting, to the readers of such a journal as your\nCATHOLIC WORLD than to those of a mere law journal; and as I\nabhor religious intolerance in all forms, and see so much of it in this\ncountry, I concluded to send it to you, thinking perhaps you may deem\nit advisable to use it.\u201d]\n\n\nABJURATION.\u2014The statute 35 _Eliz. cap._ 2 was made wholly\nagainst Popish Recusants convict above 16 Years of Age, enjoining them\nnot to remove above 5 Miles from their Habitation: if they do, and not\nbeing covert (married?), nor having Land to the Value of 20 Marks _per\nAnnum_ or Goods worth \u00a340, they must abjure the Kingdom. _Hale\u2019s Pl.\nCr._ 228.\n\n\u201cLikewise upon Persons who absent themselves from Church without just\nCause, and refusing to conform within 3 Months after conviction.\u201d _35\nEliz. cap. 1._\n\n\nARMOUR.\u2014(Recusancy was denying the Supremacy of the Queen\nand adhering to the Pope as Supreme Head of the Church.) \u201cThe Armour\nof Recusants convict shall be taken from them by Warrant from Four\nJustices of Peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf they conceal their Arms or give any Disturbance in the Delivery,\none Justice may commit them for 3 months without Bail.\u201d _3 Jac. cap. 5._\n\n\nBAIL: When allowed or denied.\u2014A Minister \u201cdepraving\u201d the\nCommon Prayer-Book, as fixed by Statute, was liable, for first offence,\nto commitment for 6 months; for second offence, for a year; and for\nthird offence, for life.\n\n\u201cBeing present at any other Form: First Offence, Commitment for 6\nMonths; Second Offence, 12 Months; Third Offence, for Life.\u201d\n\nRecusants. \u201cSuspected to be a Jesuit, Seminary, or Priest, and being\nexamined refuseth to answer, may be committed till he answer directly.\u201d\n\n\u201cImpugning the Queen\u2019s Authority in Ecclesiastical causes; perswading\nothers to it or from coming to church; meeting at Conventicles, under\nColour of Religion, or perswading others to meet there, commitment\ntill they conform and make an open Submission and Declaration of their\nconformity.\u201d\n\n\u201cAbsenting from Church on Sunday, and no Distress to be had, Commitment\ntill Forfeiture is paid.\u201d\n\n\u201cAbove the Age of 16, and absenting for a Month: Forfeiture 20_s._ per\nMonth, or be committed till paid.\u201d _23 Eliz. cap. 1._\n\nKeeping a School Master or \u201cany other Servant in the House, and not\ncoming to Church for a Month, the Master of such House forfeits \u00a310\n_per_ Month.\u201d\n\n\nBLASPHEMY.\u2014By Statute 9 and 10 _Will._, \u201cAny Person bred\nin or professing the Christian Religion, and who shall, by Writing,\nPrinting, Teaching, or advised Speaking deny any one of the Persons in\nthe Trinity; or assert that there are more Gods than one; or deny the\nChristian Religion to be true, or the Holy Scriptures to be of Divine\nAuthority, shall be disabled to have any office,\u201d and \u201cif convicted\na second time, he shall be disabled to sue in any court, or to be a\nGuardian or Executor or Administrator, and be incapable of any Legacy\nor Gift, or of any office, and shall be committed for Three Years\nwithout Bail.\u201d\n\n\nCHURCH WARDENS.\u2014\u201cBy Common Law they are a corporation to take\ncare of the Goods of the Church.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn Attorney cannot be made a Church Warden.\u201d _2 Roll. Abr. 272._\n\n\u201cHe is to see that the Parishioners come to Church every Sunday and\nHoliday, and to present the Names of such who are absent to the\nOrdinary, or to levy 12d. for every offence, _per Stat. 5_ and _6 Ed.,\n1 Eliz. cap. 1_.\u201d\n\n\u201cArresting a Minister going to or returning from Church may be punished\nby Indictment or bound to Good Behaviour. The Offence is the same\nif a Layman be arrested. Quarreling in Church or Church Yard, if a\nLayman may be suspended _ab ingressio Ecclesi\u00e6_; if a Clergyman, _ab\nofficio_. But if a Weapon be drawn with intent to strike, the Party may\nbe convicted, etc., and Judgment to lose one of his Ears by cutting it\noff, and if no Ears, to be marked in the Cheek with the Letter F.\u201d _5_\nand _6 Ed. VI. cap. 4_.\n\n_Seats in Churches._ \u201cThe Ordinary may place and displace whom he\nthinks fit.\u201d\n\n\u201cA Man may have a Seat in a Church appendant to his House, and may\nprescribe for it, etc. But one cannot prescribe to a Seat in the _Body\nof the Church_ generally.\u201d _Roll. Abr., 2 Pars. 288._\n\n\u201cThe case is the same in an _Isle of a Church_.\u201d _2 Cro. 367._\n\n\u201c_Presentments_\u201d are to be made by the Church Wardens, usually twice a\nyear, but cannot be compelled oftener than once a year, except at the\nVisitation of the Bishop.\n\nThe Articles commonly exhibited to them to make their Presentments may\nbe reduced thus, viz.:\n\n_To Things which concern_ the Church, the Parson, the Parishioners.\n\n_And First, to those Things which concern the Church; as_,\n\nAlms, whether a Box for that Purpose; Assessments, whether made for\nrepairs; Bells and Bell Ropes, if in Repair; Bible, whether in Folio;\nCanons, whether a Book thereof; Carpet; Chest, with three Locks; Church\nand Chancel in Repair; Creed in fair Letters; Cups and Covers for\nBread, etc.; Cushion for Pulpit; Desk for Reader; Lord\u2019s Prayer in fair\nLetters; Marriage, a Table of Degrees; Monuments safely kept; Parsonage\nHouse in Repair; Church Yard well Fenced; Commandments in Fair Letters;\nCommon Prayer-Book; Communion Table; Flaggon; Font; Grave Stones well\nkept; Queen\u2019s Arms, set up; Register Book in Parchment; Supplies,\nwhether any; Table-cloth; Tombs well kept.\n\n2. _Those Things which concern the Parson_:\n\nArticles 39, if read twice a Year; Baptizing with Godfathers; Canons,\nif read once a Year; Catechising Children; Common Prayer, if read,\netc.; Dead, if he bury them; Doctrine, if he preach good; Gown, if he\npreach in it; _Homilies_, if read or he preach; _January_ 30th, if\nobserved; May 29th, if observed; Marrying privately; _November_ 5th,\nif observed; Preaching every _Sunday_; Peace Maker; Perambulation;\nSacrament, if celebrated; Sedition, if vented; Sick, if visited; Sober\nLife; Surplice, if wear it.\n\n3. _Those Things which concern Parishioners_:\n\nAdulterers, if any; Alms Houses, if abused; Ale Houses, and in Divine\nService; Answering, according to Rubrick; Baptism, neglected by\nParents; Blasphemers; Church, resorting to it; Dead, if brought to be\nburied; Drunkards, if any; Fornicators, if any; Legacies, if any given\nto pious Uses; Marrying within prohibited Degrees; Marrying without\nBanns, Licence, or at unlawful hours; Sacraments received 3 times in a\nyear of all above 16, whereof Easter to be one time; School, if abused;\nSeats, if Parishioners are placed in them without contention; Standing\nup; _Sundays_, working therein; Swearers, if any; Women, if come to be\nChurched.\u201d\n\n\u201cA Warrant against one for not coming to Church.\n\n\u201cTo the Constable, etc.: \u201cSussex, ss. Whereas Oath hath been made\nbefore me That J. O. of, etc., did not upon the Lord\u2019s Day last past\nresort to any Church, Chapel, or other usual Place appointed by Common\nPrayers, and there hear Divine Service according to the Form of the\nStatute in that case made and provided.\n\n\u201cThese are therefore to require you, etc., to bring the said J. O.\nbefore me to answer the Premises. Given, etc.\u201d\n\n\u201cAny Man may build a Church or Chappel, but the Law takes no Notice of\nit as such till it is consecrated, and therefore, whether Church or\nChappel, it must be tried by the Certificate of the Bishop.\u201d\n\n\nCLERGY AND BENEFIT OF CLERGY.\u2014\u201cBefore the 20 _Ed. I._, the\nClergy paid no Tenths to the King for their Ecclesiastical Livings, but\nto the Pope; but in that King\u2019s reign, their Livings were valued all\nover England, and the Tenths paid to the King; and by the Statute 26\n_Hen. VIII. cap._ 3, they were annexed to the Crown forever.\u201d\n\nMany of their privileges were \u201cconfirmed by _Magna Carta_, viz., _Quod\nEcclesia sit libera_.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs to the Benefit of Clergy, it was introduced by the Canon Law,\nExempting their persons from any Temporal Jurisdiction. \u2018Tis a\nPrivilege on purpose to save the Life of a Criminal in certain cases,\nif he was a man of learning, as accounted in those Days, for as such he\nmight be useful to the Publick.\u2014At first it was extended to any person\nwho could read, he declaring that he had vowed or was resolved to\nenter into Orders, and the Reading was to show he was qualified.\u2014But\nafterwards the reading without a Vow to enter into Orders was held\ngood, and now \u2018tis become a legal conveyance of Mercy to both Clergy\nand Laity.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut tho\u2019 the Ordinary usually tenders the Book, the Court are the\nproper Judges of the Criminal\u2019s Reading: Therefore, where the Ordinary\nanswer _Quod legit_, the Court judged otherwise, fined the Ordinary,\nand hanged the Person.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, if a Man cannot read where Clergy is allowable, and \u2018tis recorded\nby the Court _Quod non legit_: if the Offender be reprieved, the Book\nmay be tendered to him again because \u2018tis _in favorem vit\u00e6_, for which\nReason he may have it under the Gallows.\u201d _Dyer_, 205 _b_.\n\n\u201cIn those days, an offender might have his Clergy even for Murder\n_toties quoties_, but this was restrained by the statute of 4 _Hen.\nVII. cap._ 13, that he should have it but once. And for the better\nObservance of that Law, it was then provided That the Criminal should\nbe marked upon the Brawn of the Left Thumb, that he might be known\nagain upon a second Offence\u201d\u2014\u201cwhich was not intended as any Part of\nthe Judgment\u201d\u2014\u201cIt was only a Mark set upon the Offender that he might\nnot have his Clergy a second Time.\u201d\n\nBy the Common Law, \u201call Offenders, except in Treason against the Person\nof the Queen,\u201d should have the Benefit of Clergy \u201cand _toties quoties_;\nbut by statute of 25 _Ed. III. cap._ 4, it was prohibited in Treasons;\nand by that of 4 _Hen. VII._ it is restrained to one Time, so that\nnow (_i.e._ in 1711) there are but very few cases wherein the Common\nLaw denies Clergy, but in many \u2018tis taken away by several acts of\nParliament.\u201d\n\nAmong those from whom it was thus taken away, were Popish Recusants by\nact of 35 _Eliz. cap._ 1 and 2, and those who receive Priests being\nnatives of England, and ordained by the See of Rome by act of 27 _Eliz.\ncap._ 2.\n\n\u201cIn Anno 2 _Ed. VI._, the Reformers, intending to bring the Worship\nof God under set forms, compiled a Book of Common Prayer, which was\nestablished by Act of Parliament in that year.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut because several things were contained in that Book which showed\na compliancy to the superstitious Humours of those times, and some\nExceptions being made to it by precise Men at Home and by JOHN\nCALVIN abroad, therefore two years afterwards it was reviewed, in\nwhich _Martin Bucer_[31] was consulted and some Alterations were made,\nwhich consisted in adding some Things and leaving out others, as in the\nformer Edition:\n\n\n              { A general Confession\n              { of sins to the daily service.\n              {\n              { A general Absolution\n              { to the truly Penitent.\n              {\n              { The Communion to\n              { begin with reading the\n  The         { Commandments, the\n  Additions   { People kneeling.\n  were, viz.: {\n              { And a Rubrick Concerning\n              { the Posture of\n              { kneeling, which was\n              { afterwards ordered to be\n              { left out by the statute of\n              { the 1 _Eliz._, but is now\n              { again explained as in 2\n              { _Ed. VI._\n\n              { The use of Oil in Confirmation\n              { and Extream\n              { Unction. Prayers for\n              { Souls departed.\n  Left out:   {\n              { And what tended to a\n              { Belief of the Corporeal\n              { Presence in the Consecration\n              { of the Eucharist.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfterwards, _Anno_ 5 _Ed. VI._, a Bill was brought into the House of\nLords to enjoin Conformity to this new Book with these Alterations, by\nwhich all People were to come to those Common Prayers under pain of\nChurch Censure, which Bill passed into a Law, _Anno_ 5 and 6 _Ed. VI._;\nbut not being observed during the reign of Queen Mary, it was again\nreviewed by a Committee of Learned Men (naming them), and appointed to\nbe used by every Minister, _Anno_ 1 _Eliz._, with some Additions, which\nwere then made, viz.:\n\n\u201cCertain Lessons for Every Sunday in the Year, some Alterations in\nthe Liturgy, Two Sentences added in the Delivery of the Sacrament,\nintimating to the Communicants that Christ is not Corporeally present\nin the Elements, etc. The Form of making Bishops, Priests, and Deacons\nwas likewise added.\u201d\n\n\u201cUpon these and other Statutes several Things are to be considered:\n\n1. The Punishment of a Minister for refusing to use or depraving the\nBook of Common Prayer.\n\n2. The Punishment of any other Person depraving it, and of such who\nshall hear or be present at any other form.\n\n3. Who are bound to use it.\n\n4. Who must provide it.\u201d\n\nThe Punishment of the Minister was for 1st offence, loss of a year\u2019s\nLivings and six Months\u2019 imprisonment; 2d offence, Deprivation and\nImprisonment for a Year; 3d offence, Imprisonment for Life and\nDeprivation.\n\nAny other Person, for 1st Offence, six months\u2019 Imprisonment; 2d\nOffence, twelve months; and 3d Offence, for Life. 5 and 6 _Ed. VI.\ncap._ 1.\n\n\u201cNo Form of Prayer should be used in any Public Place other than\naccording to the said Book.\u201d\n\nBy Statute 3 _Jac. cap._ 4, Constables \u201cmust once a Year present to the\nQuarter Sessions those who absent themselves for the space of a Month\nfrom Church\u201d; and he must levy certain forfeitures on those who keep\nor resort to Bowling, Dancing, Ringing, or any sport whatever on the\nSabbath; and on a Butcher who shall kill or sell Flesh on that day.\n\n\nRECUSANTS \u201care those who refuse or deny Supremacy to the Queen\nby adhering to the Pope as Supreme Head of the Church.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Anno_ 24 _Hen. VIII. cap._ 12, Parliament prohibited _Appeals_ to\n_Rome_, etc.\u201d\n\n25 _Hen. VIII._ \u201cThe King appointed that _Convocations_ should be\nassembled by his Writ, and that no _Canons_ or _Constitutions_ should\nbe contrary to his Prerogative or the Laws of the Land.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the same Year an Act passed to restrain the Payment of _First\nFruits_ to the Court of _Rome_.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the next Year, 26 _Hen. VIII._, An Act passed by which the First\nFruits of all Spiritual Livings were given to the King.\u201d\n\nIn the same Year, \u201can Act passed, prohibiting _Investitures_ of\nArchbishops or Bishops by the Pope; but that in a Vacancy the King\nshould send his _Letters-missive_ to a Prior or Convent, Dean or\nChapter, to choose another.\u201d\n\n\u201cLikewise, in the same Year, all _Licenses_ and _Dispensations_ from\nthe Court of Rome were prohibited, and that all _Religious Houses_\nshould be under the _Visitation of the King_.\u201d\n\nAnd by an Act passed the same Year (viz., 1534), The King was \u201cdeclared\nto be _Supream Head of the Church_.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he did not exercise any act of that Power till a year afterwards,\nby appointing Sir Thomas _Cromwell_ to be his Vicar General in\nEcclesiastical Matters, and Visitor of all the _Monasteries_ and other\nPrivileged Places in the Kingdom.\u201d\n\nIn 27 _Hen. VIII._ (1536) \u201call the _lesser Monasteries_, under the\nnumber of _twelve Persons_, and whose Revenues were not of the Value of\n\u00a3200 _per annum_, were given to the King, his Heirs and Successors; and\na Court was erected on purpose for collecting the Revenues belonging to\nthese Monasteries, which was called _The Court of Augmentation of the\nKing\u2019s Revenue_, who had full power to dispose of those Lands for the\nService of the King.\u201d\n\nThe officers of this Court had, among its other duties, that of\ninquiring \u201cinto the Number of _Religious_ in the House, and what Lives\nthey led; how many would go into other Religious Houses, and how many\ninto the _World_, as they called it.\u201d\n\nThe whole of the goods thus confiscated were valued at \u00a3100,000, and\nthe rents of these small Monasteries came to \u00a332,000 _per annum_.\n\n\u201cThis occasioned great Discontents amongst the people,\u201d to appease\nwhich the King sold some of the Lands \u201cto the Gentry\u201d at low Rates,\n\u201cobliging them to keep up Hospitality.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis pleased both them and the ordinary Sort of People for a little\ntime; and, to satisfy others,\u201d the King \u201ccontinued or gave back\nthirty-one Houses. But these, about two Years afterwards, fell under\nthe Common Fate of the great Monasteries, and were all suppressed with\nthem.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut notwithstanding he gave back some of these Houses, yet the People\nwere still discontented, and openly rebelled in _Lincolnshire_, which\nwas quieted by a Pardon: There was another Rebellion in _Yorkshire_ and\nthe Northern Counties, which ended also in a Pardon, only some of the\nchief of the Rebels were executed for this last Rebellion.\u201d\n\nMost of the Monasteries, \u201cseeing their Dissolution drawing near,\nmade voluntary Surrenders of their Houses in the 29th _year of Hen.\nVIII._, in Hopes by this means to obtain Favor of the King; and after\nthe Rebellion, the rest of the Abbots, both great and small, did\nthe like; for some of them had encouraged the Rebels, others were\nconvicted by the Visitors of great Disorders, and most of them had\nsecured all the Plate, Jewels and Furniture belonging to their Houses,\nto make Provision for them and Relations and then surrendered their\nMonasteries.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfterwards, _Anno_ 31 _Hen. VIII._, a Bill was brought into the House\nof Peers to confirm these surrenders. There were 18 Abbots[32] present\nat the first Reading, 20 at the second, and 17 at the third. It soon\npassed the Commons and the Royal Assent; and by this Act all the\nHouses, etc., were confirmed to the King.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Tis true, the Hospitallers, Colleges and Chanteries, etc., were not\nyet dissolved.... These had large endowments to support themselves and\nto entertain Pilgrims,\u201d etc.\n\n\u201cBut notwithstanding the King was declared to be the Supreme Head\nof the Church, yet these Hospitallers would not submit,\u201d etc., \u201cand\ntherefore, Anno 32 _Hen. VIII. cap._ 24, The Parliament gave their\nlands to the King and dissolved their Corporation.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Colleges and Chanteries still remained; but the Doctrine of\nPurgatory being then grown out of Belief[33] and some of those\nFraternities having resigned in the same manner as the Monasteries,\nthe Endowments of the rest were then thought to be for no purpose, and\ntherefore, _Anno_ 37 _Hen. VIII._, all these Colleges, Free Chapels,\nChanteries, etc., were given to the King by Act of Parliament.\u201d\n\n\u201cThus in the Compass of a few years, the Power and Authority of the See\nof _Rome_ was suppressed in this Kingdom. And because frequent Attempts\nhave been made to revive it, therefore, in succeeding Times, several\nLaws have been made to keep them in subjection.\u201d\n\nAmong those were the following: Recusant Convict above 16 must go\nto his place of Abode and not remove 5 miles without license or\notherwise abjure the Realm. Not departing within the time limited by\nthe Justices, or returning without license from the Queen, was felony\nwithout Benefit of Clergy. 35 _Eliz. cap._ 2.\n\n\u201cTo absolve or to be absolved by Bulls from the Bishop of Rome was High\nTreason.\u201d 13 _Eliz. cap._ 2.\n\n\u201cBringing an _Agnus Dei_ hither, or offering it to any Person to be\nused, both he and the Receiver incurs a _Premunire_.[34] 13 _Eliz.\ncap._ 2. All Armour shall be taken from Recusants by order of four\nJustices.\u201d 7 _Jac. cap._ 6.\n\nBringing over Beads or offering them to any person, both he and the\nReceiver incur a Premunire. 13 _Eliz. cap._ 2.\n\n\u201cTwo Justices may search Houses for Books and Relicks, and burn them.\u201d\n3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\n\u201cEvery Popish Recusant must be buried in Church or Church yard\naccording to the Ecclesiastical Laws, or his Executor or Administrator\nforfeits \u00a320.\u201d 3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\n\u201cChildren of Recusants must be baptized by a lawful Minister, or the\nParent forfeits \u00a3100.\u201d 3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\n\u201cPopish Recusant, if he sue any person, the Defendant may plead it in\nDisability.\u201d\n\nHe \u201cshall not be Executor, Administrator, or Guardian.\u201d 3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\nA married woman, a Popish Recusant convict, \u201cnot conforming within 3\nmonths after conviction, may be committed by two Justices until she\nconform, unless her Husband will pay to the King 10 shillings per month\nor a third part of his Lands.\u201d 7 _Jac. cap._ 6.\n\n\u201cPopish Recusant marrying otherwise than according to the Forms of the\nChurch of England shall forfeit \u00a3100. If a woman, not have her Dower or\nJointure or Widow\u2019s Estate.\u201d 3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\n\u201cSaying Mass forfeits 200 marks, hearing it 100 Marks.\u201d\n\n\u201cJesuits, Seminary Priests, etc., and other Ecclesiastical Persons\nborn within the Queen\u2019s Dominions, coming in or remaining in the said\nDominions, is guilty of Treason.\u201d 27 _Eliz. cap._ 2.\n\n\u201cAny knowing a Jesuit or Priest to be here and not within 12 days\nafterwards discovering him to a Justice of Peace shall be committed and\nfined.\u201d 27 _Eliz. cap._ 2.\n\n\u201cPer Stat. 3 _Jac. cap._ 4, to move any one to promise Obedience to the\nSee of Rome or other Prince is High Treason in the Mover and he that\npromiseth Obedience.\u201d\n\n\u201cRecusant Convict must not practice the Art of Apothecary, Civil Law,\nCommon Law, Physick, or be an officer in any Court or amongst Soldiers,\nor in a Castle, Fortress or Ship.\u201d 3 _Jac. cap._ 5.\n\n\u201cSending Persons beyond Sea to be instructed in Popish Religion\nforfeits \u00a3100, and the Persons sent are incapable to take any\nInheritance.\u201d 1 _Jac. cap._ 4.\n\n\u201cChildren shall not be sent beyond Sea without License from the Queen\nor six of her Privy Council, whereof the Principal Secretary of State\nto be one.\u201d\n\n\u201cNotwithstanding all these Laws, the Parliament (11 and 12 _Will._) was\nof Opinion that Popery increased, and therefore to prevent its growth\na Law was made That if any person should take one or more _Popish\nBishop_, _Jesuit_ or _Priest_, and prosecute him till he is convicted\nof _saying Mass_ or exercising any other part of the Office or Function\nof a _Popish Bishop_ or _Priest_,\u201d he shall have a reward of \u00a3100.\n\n\u201cIf any Popish Bishop, Priest or Jesuit, shall be convicted of saying\nMass, etc., or any Papist shall Keep School, etc., he shall be adjudged\nto perpetual Imprisonment in such place where the Queen by Advice of\nher Council shall think fit.\u201d\n\n\u201cEvery Papist, after the 10th of April, 1700, is made incapable of\npurchasing Lands, etc., either in his own Name or the name of other\nPerson, to his use.\u201d\n\n\nTHE SABBATH.\u2014\u201cShoemaker putting Boots or Shoes to sale\nforfeits 3_s._ 4_d._ and the goods.\u201d 1 _Jac. I. cap._ 11.\n\n\u201cCarriers, Drivers, Waggoners, travelling on that day forfeit 20_s._\u201d 3\n_Car. I. cap._ 1.\n\n\u201cButchers killing or selling, or causing to be killed or sold or privy\nor consenting to kill or sell Meat on that day, forfeit 6_s._ 8_d._\u201d 3\n_Car. I. cap._ 1.\n\nBy 29 _Car. II. cap._ 7 \u201cPublic and private Duties of Piety are\nenjoined, all worldly business is prohibited, and all above the Age of\n14 forfeit 5_s._\u201d\n\n\u201cDrovers or their servants coming to their Inns on that day forfeit\n20_s._\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the Offender is not able to pay the Forfeiture, he shall be put in\nthe Stocks for two Hours.\u201d\n\n\u201cMeeting together out of their own Parish for any Sports or Pastimes,\nforfeit 3_s._ 4_d._\u201d 1 _Car. I. cap._ 1.\n\n\nSACRAMENT.\u2014\u201cDepraving or doing any Thing in contempt of the\nSacrament must be committed.\u201d 1 _Ed. VI. cap._ 1, 1 _Eliz._ 2, 3 _Jac._\n4.\n\n\nSCHOOLMASTER.\u2014\u201cNot coming to church or not allowed by the\nBishop of the Diocese, forever disabled to teach Youth, and shall be\ncommitted for a year without bail.\u201d 23 _Eliz. cap._ 1.\n\n\nTYTHES.\u2014\u201cA canon was made _Anno_ 1585 for payment of Tythes\nas founded on the Law of God and the ancient Custom of the Church.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen Glanville wrote (about 1660), a Freeholder was allowed to make a\nWill, so as he gave the best Thing he had to the _Lord Paramount_, and\nthe next best to the _Church_.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are said to be Ecclesiastical Inheritances collateral to the\nEstate of the Land, out of which they arise, and are of their own\nNature due only to Spiritual Persons.\u201d\n\nCertain Lands were, however, exempt. \u201cMost orders of Monks were first\nexempted; but in time this was restrained to three orders\u2014Cistertians,\nHospitallers, Templars.\u201d\n\n\nDISSENTERS.\u2014After the various laws against \u201cPopish\nRecusants,\u201d as they were called, had had the effect of rendering\nsomewhat firm the establishment of the English Protestant Church, and\nabout the time of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, a new trouble arose\nfrom those who dissented from that church, in its forms and in some of\nits principles, and government then began to interfere with them.\n\nIn the 1st Year of the reign of William and Mary these \u201cDissenters\u201d\nwere exempted from the statutes of 1 _Eliz. cap._ 2, 23 _Eliz. cap._\n1, 3 _Jac. cap._ 4, above mentioned. \u201cBut they must not assemble in\nPlaces with Doors locked, barred, or bolted, nor until the place is\ncertified to the Bishop of the Diocese or to the Arch Deacon or to the\nJustices at the Quarter Sessions, and registered there and they have a\ncertificate thereof.\u201d\n\nTheir Preachers must declare their Approbation, and subscribe the\n\u201cArticles of Religion,\u201d except the 20th, 34th, 35th, and 36th articles,\nand must take the oaths and subscribe the Declaration prescribed Dy\ncertain statutes, and that at the Quarter Sessions where they live.\n\nSo that, from the reign of Elizabeth, through the reign of James\nI., and until the the troubles which ended in the civil war and the\nProtectorate of Cromwell, Dissenters were subject to many of the\nrestrictions which had been imposed on the Roman Catholics; and even\nwhen those troubles finally ended in the flight of James II., and the\nelevation of William and Mary to the throne, freedom of religion was\nnot allowed to the Dissenters, but they were permitted to enjoy their\ndissent from the forms and ceremonies of the Church of England only by\ndeclaring their assent to many of its most important tenets of faith or\ndoctrine.\n\nThe oaths of allegiance and supremacy enjoined by the statutes of _1\nEliz._ and _3 Jac._ were abrogated by the Statute of _1 Will., and Mar.\ncap. 8_, and the following substituted:\n\n\u201cI, A. B., do sincerely promise and swear that I will be faithful and\nbear true allegiance,\u201d etc.\n\n\u201cI, A. B., do swear that I do from my Heart abhor, detest and abjure\nas Impious and Heretical, that damnable Doctrine and Position that\nPrinces excommunicated or deprived by the Pope or any authority of the\nSee of Rome may be deposed by their subjects or any other whatsoever;\nand I do declare that no Foreign Prince, Person, Prelate, State or\nPotentate, hath or ought to have any Jurisdiction, Power, Superiority,\nPre-eminence or Authority, Ecclesiastical or Spiritual, within the\nRealm. So help me God.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nJOSEPH IN EGYPT A TYPE OF CHRIST.\n\n\nLOOK down, O Lord, holy Father, from thy sanctuary, and from thy high\nand heavenly dwelling, and behold this all-holy Victim, which thy great\nHigh-priest, thy holy Child Jesus, offers thee for the sins of his\nbrethren; and have mercy on the multitude of our iniquities. Lo! the\nvoice of the blood of Jesus our Brother cries to thee from the cross.\nFor what is it, O Lord, that hangs on the cross? Hangs, I say; for past\nthings are as present with thee. Own it, O Father! It is the coat of\nthy Joseph, thy Son; an evil wild beast hath devoured him, and hath\ntrampled on his garment in its fury, spoiling all the beauty of this\nhis remanent corpse, and, lo! five mournful gaping wounds are left in\nit. This is the garment which thy innocent holy Child Jesus, for the\nsins of his brethren, has left in the hands of the Egyptian harlot,\nthinking the loss of his robe a better thing than the loss of purity;\nand choosing rather to be despoiled of his coat of flesh and go down to\nthe prison of death than to yield to the voice of the seductress for\nall the glory of the world.\u2014_S. Anselm._\n\n\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nIN WHICH WE ARE MADE ACQUAINTED WITH MADAME AGNES.\n\n\nABOUT twenty years ago, I lived in a town in France which I may be\nallowed to call Philopolis. It need not be sought on the map: it will\nnot be found there, at least under the name I think it proper to call\nit by, in order to avoid all appearance of indiscretion. The story I am\nabout to relate is really a true one.\n\nI had just finished my school-days, and, having carefully thought over\nthe different professions which seemed to accord with my tastes, I\nfelt\u2014and it may be imagined how bitterly\u2014that not one of them was\nwithin my means. To embrace any of them would have required a larger\nsum than I had the least hope of. Under such unfavorable circumstances,\nI became a tutor in a Lyc\u00e9e.\n\nGod preserve my very enemies, if I have any, from so trying an\noccupation! At the end of three months, worn out with my labors, and\noverwhelmed with humiliations and sadness, I had fallen into such a\nstate of discouragement, not to say of despair, that I regarded myself\nas the most unfortunate of men.\n\nTo those who wish to be distinguished from the crowd, there is\nsomething peculiarly attractive in looking upon themselves as more\nunhappy than common mortals. I gave myself up to this notion, at first\nthrough vanity. But this kind of superiority is by no means cheering, I\nassure you, so I soon sought consolation. Thank God, I had not far to\ngo. My old friend, Mme. Agnes, was at hand. I sought refuge with her. I\nspeak as if she were advanced in years, but it must be acknowledged she\nwould have seemed a mere child to Methuselah. She was thirty-six years\nof age; but I was only eighteen, and thought her old.\n\nMme. Agnes lived on a broad and pleasant quay that gently sloped\ntowards a noble river. Not fifty steps from the house rolled the swift\ncurrent of the Loire. Beyond was an extensive plain from which rose\ninnumerable spires.\n\nWhen I arrived, I found my friend in her usual seat near the window.\nShe was in a large arm-chair, with a table before her, on which were\nall the materials necessary for a painter of miniatures. Mme. Agnes was\nrenowned in Philopolis as an artist. Her uncommon talent enabled her to\nsupport her mother and young sister in a comfortable manner. Alas! poor\nlady, she had been a paralytic for ten years.\n\nAccording to her custom, she laid aside her work when I entered, and\nwelcomed me with a smile. But this expression of pleasure gave place to\none of motherly anxiety when she observed the sad face I wore.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter, my poor child?\u201d said she. \u201cYou have grown\nfrightfully thin.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot say I am ill,\u201d I replied, \u201cbut I am down-hearted, and have\nso much reason to be, that things cannot continue long in this way: I\nshould die.\u201d\n\nThus saying, I leaned my head against Mme. Agnes\u2019 chair, like a great\nchild as I was, and cried heartily. I had so long restrained my\ntears!...\n\nMme. Agnes softly placed her hand on my head, and consoled me with a\nkindness truly maternal. When my explosion of grief had passed away,\nshe made me give her an account of my troubles. I told her, perhaps for\nthe tenth time, what an inclination I had for a literary life, only\nI was absolutely too poor to embrace it. I added that my duties as a\ntutor were repugnant; the pupils were insolent and unfeeling; in short,\nI concealed nothing that afflicted me. At length I ended with these\nwords:\n\n\u201cYou now see, Mme. Agnes, that I could not be more wretched than I am.\nThis must end. Give me, I beg, some of the good advice I have so many\ntimes received from you. Tell me what I must do.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave patience, my child, and wait till God makes the way smoother.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait! when one suffers as I do?... When I abhor my position?... When\nI feel how happy I could be elsewhere!... Ah! Mme. Agnes, if you knew\nwhat I have to endure\u2014if you only comprehended my complete despair!\u201d\n\n\u201cPoor child, your trials are bitter, I acknowledge; but you are young,\ncapable, and industrious, and will get a better position by-and-by.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo be forced to endure it only a year would be beyond my strength.\nNeither my disposition, nor tastes, nor health could stand what I have\nto bear.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow many others are in a similar position, but without even the hope\nyou have of soon exchanging an employment without results\u2014detestable,\nif you like\u2014for one more congenial! The task they are pursuing must be\nthat of their whole lives. They know it, and resign themselves to it.\nYou, who have only to bear your trials for a certain time, must imitate\ntheir example. Come, come, my friend, every one has his cross here\nbelow. Let us bear ours cheerfully, and it will soon seem light.\u201d\n\nThese consoling words were uttered in a sympathetic tone, as if they\ncame from the heart. I was touched. I began to look at Mme. Agnes\nmore attentively than ever before, and the thought occurred to me\nlike a revelation: \u201cHow much this woman must have suffered, and how\ninstructive would be the account of her life!\u201d\n\n\u201cMme. Agnes,\u201d said I, \u201cyour advice is excellent, but example would\nproduce a still greater impression on me. I beg you to relate the\nhistory of your life. You have evidently gone through much suffering,\nand with great patience, I am confident. I will endeavor to conform to\nyour example.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou require a sad task of me,\u201d she replied; \u201cbut no matter, I will\ngratify you. My story\u2014and who of us has not one?\u2014will prove useful\nto you, I think. But you must not be so ready to declare me a saint.\nI never was one, as you will soon see. Yes, I have suffered, as you\nsuppose\u2014greatly suffered, and have learned that the best means of\nmitigating our sufferings is to submit to God\u2019s will, and to cherish\nit. The lesson to be derived from my history will be of use to you, I\ntrust, and therefore I yield to your request.\n\n\u201cOne word more before commencing. I would observe that the account of\nmy own life is closely interwoven with the lives of several persons\nwhom you will not reproach me for making you acquainted with. By\na concurrence of circumstances which would appear to me almost\ninexplicable did I not behold the hand of God therein, my life for\nmany years was identified, so to speak, with theirs. I witnessed the\nstruggles these loved ones had to make; I shared their very thoughts;\nI sympathized in their sorrows, as they in mine; and I also had the\nhappiness of participating in their joys.\n\n\u201cWhen, therefore, I invoke these remembrances you wish me to recall, I\nfind all along the pathway of my life these friends now gone. I could\nnot relate my own history without relating theirs. But everything\nencourages me to go on. The task is pleasant. It is sweet to speak of\nthose we have loved! The faithful picture I am going to draw of their\nlives will be as full of instruction to you, my friend, as that of my\nown.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nPROVIDENCE SENDS A LODGER.\n\n\nTo begin: my father, a worthy man and a sincere Christian, was a _Chef\nde Division_ at the Pr\u00e9fecture. A sudden illness bereft me of his care\nwhen I was barely fifteen years old. My mother, my young sister, and\nmyself were left in quite limited circumstances, being wholly dependent\non the rent of this small house, which had belonged to the family many\nyears. Some time after, a pension of five hundred francs was added to\nour income by the government which my father had faithfully served.\nOur position was very sad, and the more so because, during my father\u2019s\nlife, we had everything in abundance. But our misfortunes offered us\na thousand inducements to draw nearer to God. It is only ill-balanced\nsouls\u2014at once proud and weak\u2014that disregard him who chastises them.\nPoor souls! they are doubly to be pitied, for they suffer and do not\nhave recourse to him who alone can console them! As for us, God granted\nus the grace to recognize his agency. He sustained us, and we humbly\nsubmitted to his divine decrees. Misfortune only rendered us the more\npious.\n\nI had had a special taste for painting from my childhood, but still\nlacked proficiency, notwithstanding the lessons I had taken. I now set\nto work with ardor, though I had no master. At the end of a year I\nhad made so much progress that an old teacher of mine, the principal\nof a boarding-school\u2014an excellent person, who took an interest in\nour affairs\u2014received me as teacher of drawing in her establishment.\nShe also made me give English lessons to beginners. This additional\nresource restored ease in a measure to our household. Nevertheless, we\nwere obliged to practise the strictest economy. To enable us to get on\nswimmingly, as my mother said with a smile, we at last resolved to rent\nthe spacious ready-furnished apartments on the ground floor. The first\nstory was occupied by a lodger, who was, at the same time, a friend of\nours. As for us, we lived in the second story.\n\nThings went on thus for some years. I was nearly twenty, when one day a\nyoung man, whom neither my mother nor myself knew, called to say he had\nheard our furnished rooms were vacant, and that he would like to occupy\nthem. My mother was greatly pleased with his frank, open manner. She\nis very social, you know, and made the stranger sit down. They entered\ninto conversation, and I sat listening to them.\n\n\u201cAm I mistaken, monsieur?\u201d said my mother, after a while; \u201cit seems as\nif I have already met you somewhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, madame,\u201d replied the young man, \u201cI have had the honor of seeing\nyou more than once.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut where?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt M. Comte, the apothecary\u2019s. I was the head clerk there.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is it!... I remember now.... And you have left him?\u201d\n\n\u201cUnder the most singular circumstances. It seems I am a writer without\nbeing aware of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou know the Philopolis _Catholic Journal_?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly: an excellent paper. It is a great pity it is not so\nsuccessful as it deserves to be. But between us, it is partly its\nown fault: it lacks interest and ability. It has only one able\ncontributor\u2014Victor Barnier, but he does not write often enough.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe poor fellow cannot help it. His duties at the apothecary\u2019s shop\nhave naturally superseded his taste for journalism.\u201d ...\n\n\u201cWhat! are you Victor Barnier?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, madame.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! well, young man, you do not lack talent.\u201d\n\n\u201cOthers have said the same, madame. I hope you are not all mistaken,\nespecially for the sake of the _Catholic Journal_, of which I have\nbeen appointed the principal editor. I refused the post at first,\nthe responsibility seemed so great. They insisted. The position\nsurpassed my wishes. Without any one\u2019s knowing it, I had for many\nyears ardently longed to be a writer. But like so many others, the\nlimited circumstances of my family prevented it. Now, thanks to this\nunexpected offer, the opportunity of following my natural inclinations\nis so tempting that I cannot resist it. My good mother tells me it is a\nperilous career, and that I shall meet with more trouble than success.\nNo matter! I am so fond of literary pursuits that, were they to afford\nme only one day of happiness in my life, I should still cling to them.\nAnd then, I say it without boasting, I love above all things the cause\nI am to defend, and hope through divine assistance to become its able\nchampion. I have, therefore, left M. Comte\u2019s, though not without some\nregret. I enter upon my duties to-morrow, and\u2014am in want of lodgings.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! well, that is all settled. You shall come here and be well taken\ncare of.\u201d\n\nAfter this, Victor left us. I have only given you the substance of the\nconversation in which I more than once took part. I must confess Victor\nwon my esteem and good-will at this first interview. He merited them.\nHe was at once an excellent and a talented man\u2014that was to be seen at\nthe first glance. The better he was known, the more evident it became\nthat his outward appearance, pleasing as it was, was not deceptive.\nHe was then twenty-five years old, but, though young, he had had many\ntrials, I assure you\u2014trials similar to yours, my young friend, but\nmuch more severe.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nTRUE LOVE\u2014HAPPY UNION.\n\n\nThe following day Victor took up his abode with us. Before a fortnight\nhad elapsed, my mother was enchanted with her new lodger. She sounded\nhis praises from morning till night. This may perhaps astonish you,\nbut you must know that she and I were always in the habit of telling\neach other our very thoughts. This reciprocal confidence was so perfect\nthat it might be truly said we concealed nothing from each other.\n\nAnd I must confess Victor showed himself every day more worthy of my\nmother\u2019s admiration. He was the most modest, amiable, industrious, and\norderly of young men\u2014a genuine model for Christian men of letters. He\nrose every morning at an early hour, and worked in his room till about\neight o\u2019clock. Then, unless his occupations were too pressing, he heard\nMass at a neighboring church. After that, he went to the _Journal_\noffice, where he remained till noon; then he returned to breakfast. He\nleft again at one, came back at three, worked till dinnertime, then\nstudied till ten at night, and often later.\n\n\u201cWhy do you work so hard?\u201d said my mother to him one day. \u201cThe life\nof a journalist, according to you, is that of a galley-slave. I never\nshould have thought an editor had so hard a time. You have all the four\nlarge pages of the _Journal_ to write yourself, then, M. Victor?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means, dear madame. I write the leading article every day, and\nin a short time, too, for I have the peculiarity of not writing well\nwhen I write slowly. This done, I look over the other articles for the\npaper. As I am responsible for them, I do not accept them till they are\ncarefully examined. This is my whole task\u2014apparently an easy one, but\ntedious and difficult in reality.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; I see you have a great deal to do at the office; but why do you\ncontinue to work at home?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo motives oblige me to study\u2014to increase my knowledge, and prevent\nennui. Having risen from a mere apothecary\u2019s clerk to be the chief\neditor of an important journal, I have to apply myself to keep apace\nwith my new profession. A journalist must be imprudent or dishonest who\ndiscusses any subject on which he has not sufficient information. And\nthink of the multitude of questions connected with politics, political\neconomy, legislation, literature, and religion itself which I have in\nturn to treat of! In the Paris newspapers, each editor writes on the\nsubjects he understands the best. The work is thus divided, to the\ngreat advantage of the paper and its editors. Here, I alone am often\nresponsible for everything. Nevertheless, the care of my health, as\nwell as my indolence, would induce me to rest a few hours a day; but\nwhere shall I pass them?\u2014At the caf\u00e9? I go there sometimes to extend\nmy knowledge of human nature; but one cannot go there much without\nbeing in danger of contracting injurious habits.\u2014With my friends? I\nhave none, and am in no hurry to make any. The choice of a friend is\nsuch a serious thing! One cannot be too cautious about it.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome and see us,\u201d said my mother, with her habitual cordiality. \u201cWhen\nyou have nowhere else to go, and your mind is weary, come up and pass\nan hour in the evening with your neighbors.\u201d\n\nVictor came, at first occasionally, then every day. Only a few weeks\nelapsed before I felt that I loved him. His companionship was so\ndelightful; he had so much delicacy in little things; he was so frank,\nso devoted to all that is beautiful and good! Did he love me in return?\nNo one could have told, for he was as timid as a young girl.\n\nBut this timidity was surmounted when my feast-day arrived. He came in\nblushing with extreme embarrassment\u2014poor dear friend! I can still see\nhim\u2014holding a bouquet in his left hand, which he concealed behind him,\nwhile with the other he presented my mother with an open paper. She\ntook it, glanced at it, and, after reading a few words, said:\n\n\u201cBut this is not addressed to me. Here, Agnes, these stanzas are for\nyou, my child! And I see a bouquet!\u201d\n\nVictor presented it to me in an agitated manner. I myself was so\nconfused that I longed to run away to hide my embarrassment. I\nconcealed it as well as I could behind the sheet on which the stanzas\nwere written, and read them in a low tone. They gracefully thanked\nmy mother for all her kindness to him, and ended with some wishes\nfor me\u2014wishes that were ardent and touching. In a tremulous tone I\nexpressed my gratitude with a sincerity which was quite natural. Our\nembarrassment was not of long continuance. It soon passed off, and we\nspent the evening in delightful conversation. One would have thought we\nhad always lived together, and formed but one family.\n\nThe next morning, when I returned from giving my lessons, what was my\nastonishment to find Victor with my mother!\n\n\u201cHere she is to decide the question,\u201d exclaimed the latter joyfully.\n\u201cM. Victor loves you, and wishes to know if you will be his wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d I replied, \u201cmust I be separated from you?\u201d\n\n\u201cLess than ever,\u201d cried Victor.\n\nMy delightful dream was realized! I was to be united to the man I loved\nwith all my heart\u2014whom I esteemed without any alloy! And this without\nbeing obliged to separate from her of whom I was the sole reliance.\n\nI extended my hand to Victor, and threw myself into my mother\u2019s arms,\nthanking her as well as I could, but in accents broken by tears....\n\nA month after, we were married, and happy\u2014as happy, I believe, as\npeople can be here below.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nSAD PRESENTIMENTS.\n\n\nThenceforth began a life so sweet that I am unable to describe it.\nVictor and I lived in the most delightful harmony. Our love for each\nother increased daily. We had but one heart and one soul. Our very\ntastes accorded.\n\nOh! how charming and happy is the wedded life of two Christian souls!\nWhat mutual sympathy! How they divine each other\u2019s thoughts! How\nreadily they make the concessions at times so necessary, for the best\nmatched people in this world do not always agree! A life more simple\nthan ours cannot be imagined, and yet it was so sweet!\n\nI worked beside Victor in the morning and during a part of the\nafternoon, looking at him from time to time, saying a few words, or\nlistening as he read what he had just composed. He said he first tried\nthe effect of his writings on me. How happy I was when he thus gave me\nthe first taste of one of his spirited articles, in which he defended\nhis principles with an ardor of conviction and a vigor of style which\nimpressed even those who were sceptical.\n\nBefore dinner we went to walk together. I persuaded Victor to devote\na part of each day to physical exercise as well as mental repose. Our\nconversation always gave a fresh charm to these walks. And yet we did\nnot talk much, but we infused our whole souls into a word or two, or a\nsmile. How often I dreamed of heaven during those delicious hours! It\nis thus, I said to myself, the angels above hold communion with each\nother. They have no need of words to make themselves understood.\n\nAmong the pleasant features of that period, I must not forget that\nof Victor\u2019s success. Before he was appointed editor, the poor paper\nvegetated. There were but few subscribers. No one spoke of the obscure\nsheet which timidly defended sound principles and true doctrines.\nWhat a sad figure it made in the presence of its contemporary, _The\nIndependent_\u2014a shameless, arrogant journal which boasted of despising\nall religious belief, and scoffed at the honest people foolish enough\nto read it!\n\nVictor had scarcely been chief editor of this despised paper three\nmonths before there was a decided change. Every day added to the list\nof subscribers. The _Catholic Journal_ was spoken of on all sides.\nThe sceptical, even, discussed it. As to _The Independent_, it was\nforced to descend into the arena. In spite of itself, it had to engage\nin conflict against an adversary as skilled in irony as in logic. I\nacknowledge I was proud of Victor\u2019s success, and, what was more, it\nmade me happy. For a long time, young as I was, I had groaned at seeing\nCatholic interests so poorly defended. They were now as ably sustained\nas I could wish, and by the man whom I loved. All my wishes were\nsurpassed!\n\nNevertheless, there is no perfect happiness in this world. Even those\nblissful years were not exempt from sorrow. God granted me twice, with\nan interval of two years, the long-wished-for joy of being a mother,\nbut each time Providence only allowed its continuance a few months.\nMy first child, a boy, died at the end of six months. The second, a\ndaughter, was taken from me before it was a year old. You are young, my\nfriend and cannot understand how afflicting such losses are. A mother\u2019s\nheart, I assure you, is broken when she sees her child taken from her,\nhowever young it may be. My husband himself was greatly distressed when\nour little boy was carried off after an illness of only a few hours.\nBut his grief was still more profound when our little girl died. Dear\nchild! though only nine months old, her face was full of intelligence,\nher eyes were expressive, and she had a wonderful way of making herself\nunderstood. She passed quietly away, softly moaning, and gazing at us\nwith affection. Her father held her in his arms the whole time of her\nlong agony. It seemed as if he thus hoped to retain her. She, too,\nwas sad, I am sure. She seemed to know we were in grief, and to leave\nus with regret. Her sweet face only resumed its joyful expression\nafter her soul had taken flight for heaven; then a celestial happiness\nbeamed from her features consecrated by death. Victor stood gazing at\nher a long time as she lay on the bed with a crucifix in her innocent\nhands. His lips murmured a prayer in a low tone. It seemed to me he\nwas addressing our angel child\u2014begging her to pray that God would\nspeedily call him to dwell for ever with her in his blissful presence.\nThe thought made me shudder. It seemed as if I had at that moment an\ninterior revelation. I knew that was Victor\u2019s prayer, and I had a\npresentiment it would be heard.\n\nFrom that day, though we had a thousand reasons to consider ourselves\nhappy, we were no longer light-hearted as we once had been. There\nwas a something that weighed on our minds and kept us anxious, and\nempoisoned all our joys. Life seemed unsatisfactory, and we drew nearer\nto God. We were constantly speaking of him and the angel who had flown\nfrom us, and we often approached the sacraments together. It was thus\nthat God was secretly preparing Victor to return to him, and me to\nendure so terrible a blow.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nAN UNEXPECTED ASSAULT.\n\n\nNo man was ever more fond of domestic life than Victor. The happiest\nhours of the day were those we all spent together\u2014he, my mother, my\nyoung sister, and myself\u2014occupied in some useful work, but often\nstopping to exchange a few words. It was with regret Victor sometimes\nleft us at such hours to mingle with the world. He refused all\ninvitations to dinners, soir\u00e9es, and balls as often as possible, but\nhe could not always do so. He had taken the first place\u2014a place quite\nexceptional\u2014in local journalism, and it was impossible for him to\ndecline all the advances made him. Besides, he wished, as was natural\nto one of his profession, to ascertain for himself public opinion on\nthe question of the day. I cannot tell you how dull the evenings seemed\nwhen he was away, or how anxious I was till he returned. There was\nsomething dreadful about his profession. In vain he resolved to avoid\npersonalities; they were often discovered when none had been intended.\nIf he was fortunately able to keep within the limits he had marked out\nfor himself, and confined himself to the defence of justice, morality,\nand religion, he found these three great causes had furious opponents.\nWhoever defended them incurred the ardent ill-will of the enemies of\nall good. This is what happened to Victor. Their secret hatred burst\nforth on an occasion of but little importance.\n\nA renowned preacher of the South, worthy in every respect of his\nreputation, came to preach at the cathedral during Advent. This man,\nas eloquent as he was good, attacked the vices of the day with all the\nardor of an apostle. Many of the young men of the place who went to\nhear him were infuriated at the boldness of his zeal. Some supposed\nthemselves to be meant in the portraits he drew of vicious men in\na manner so forcible and with such striking imagery as to make his\nhearers tremble. At the close of one of these sermons, there was some\ndisturbance in the body of the church. Threats were uttered aloud, and\nwomen treated with insult. Victor, indignant at such conduct, had the\ncourage to rebuke the corrupt young men of the place. Never had he\nbeen more happily inspired, and never had he produced such an effect.\nThe article was everywhere read. It gave offence, and we awaited the\nconsequences.\n\nThe next day Victor received an invitation to a large ball given by a\nwealthy banker. The invitation surprised him, for he knew the banker\nwas a liberal with but little sympathy for the priesthood and its\ndefenders. I begged Victor to decline the invitation politely. I feared\nit was only a pretext to offer him some affront. He gently reassured me\nby saying that, though M. Beauvais was a liberal, he had the reputation\nof being an honorable man. \u201cI am glad,\u201d added he, \u201cto become acquainted\nwith those who frequent the banker\u2019s salon. I shall probably find more\nthan one Christian among them,\u201d as, in fact, often happened.\n\nWhen the night came, Victor went away, leaving me quite uneasy, in\nspite of all his efforts to reassure me. I made him promise to return\nat an early hour. I was beginning to be anxious towards eleven, when\nall at once there was a sound of hasty footsteps. I sprang to the\ndoor\u2014I opened it\u2014it was he. As soon as he entered the room, I noticed\nhe was extremely pale. He vainly endeavored to appear calm, but could\nnot conceal the agitation that overpowered him.\n\n\u201cVictor,\u201d I cried, \u201csomething has happened!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, but not much. Somebody tried to frighten me.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you wounded?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, they did not wish to take my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cI conjure you to tell me frankly what has happened.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, here are the facts: I had left M. Beauvais\u2019 house, where I was\npolitely received, and had gone two streets, when I observed three men\nwalking swiftly after me on the Place. They seemed well dressed, which\nremoved my suspicions. I turned into the little Rue St. Augustine. It\nis dimly lighted in the evening and almost always deserted.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow imprudent!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true. I did wrong. I had scarcely gone a hundred yards, before\nthe three men overtook me.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Stop!\u2019 exclaimed one of them. I stopped to ascertain what they\nwished. The same voice continued in these terms: \u2018How much do those\n_calotins_ give you to defend them?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I have only one word to say in reply to your insulting question\u2014I\ndefend my own principles, above all because I cherish them in the\ndepths of my soul.\u2019 So saying, I sought to keep on my way.\n\n\u201cOne of them detained me. \u2018Before going any further,\u2019 said he who\nseemed to be the spokesman, \u2018swear never to abuse the young men of this\ntown again!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I attack no one individually,\u2019 I replied. \u2018Am I forbidden to defend\nmy own cause because it is not yours?\u2014But this is no time or place for\nsuch an interview. It should be at my office and by daylight. Come to\nsee me to-morrow, and I will answer your questions.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe three men were so wrapped up in their bernouses and large\ncomforters that I could not tell who they were. I thought it time to\ndisengage myself from the grasp of the one that held me. I made a\nviolent effort. In the struggle, my cloak fell off. As I stooped to\npick it up, I received several blows. I then called for assistance.\nSeveral windows in the neighborhood opened. The three cowards\ndisappeared. As you see, I am neither killed nor wounded. On the whole,\nno great harm has been done.\u201d\n\nMy whole frame trembled during this account. When it was ended, I\nbecame somewhat calmer, and, passionately throwing my arms around\nVictor, I begged him to promise me solemnly never to go out again in\nthe evening. He did so willingly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\nVICTOR AT THE POINT OF DEATH.\n\n\nThe next morning Victor told me he did not feel any effect from what\nhad occurred. He therefore went to the office as usual, and wrote a\nspirited article, in which he made known and energetically stigmatized\nthe base proceedings of those who had attacked him. The article\nattracted particular attention, and gave us the pleasant satisfaction\nof realizing to what a degree Victor had won the good-will of upright\nmen. On all sides they came that very day to express their indignation\nat the violence used against him....\n\nWe should neither overestimate nor decry human nature. There are\ncertainly a multitude of base men with low natures and vile instincts.\nBut even among those who are the farthest from the truth there are some\nsouls that have preserved a certain uprightness and hearts of a certain\nelevation for whom we cannot help feeling mingled admiration and pity.\n\nThat same evening Victor complained of not being well, but kept\nsaying it was nothing serious. Without asking his consent, I sent\nfor a physician, who examined him. Victor was forced to acknowledge\nhe had been chilled the night before. He was very warm when he left\nM. Beauvais\u2019 house, and, to counteract the effect of the keen north\nwind, he started off swiftly, and was in a complete perspiration when\novertaken by his assailants. Stopped in the middle of the street, he\nwas exposed to the cold night air, which was of course injurious. What\nwas still worse, his cloak fell off, and it was several minutes before\nhe recovered it.\n\nI was seized with terror at hearing these details. It seemed as if my\npoor husband had just pronounced his own death-warrant. At the same\ntime a horrible feeling sprang up in my heart, such as I had never\nexperienced before. I was frantic with rage and hatred against those\nwho were the cause of this fatal chill. I begged, I implored Victor and\nthe physician to promise to take immediate steps for their discovery,\nthat no time might be lost in bringing them to justice in order to\nreceive the penalty they deserved.\n\n\u201cAgnes,\u201d said Victor mildly\u2014\u201cAgnes, your affection for me misleads\nyou. I no longer recognize my good Agnes.\u201d\n\nBut I gave no heed to what he said, and was only diverted from my\nhatred by the care I was obliged to bestow on him. In twenty-four\nhours my poor husband\u2019s illness had increased to such a degree that\nI lost all hope. Poor Victor! he suffered terribly, and I added to\nhis sufferings instead of alleviating them! I loved him too much, or\nrather with too human an affection. I afflicted him with my alternate\noutbursts of despair and anger.\n\n\u201cLive without you!\u201d I would exclaim\u2014\u201cthat is impossible! Oh! the\nmonsters who have killed you, if they could only die in your stead! But\nthey shall be punished and held up to infamy as they deserve! If there\nis no one else in the world to ferret them out, I will do it myself!\u201d\n\nThese fits of excitement caused Victor so much sorrow that the very\nremembrance of them fills me with the keenest remorse\u2014a remorse I have\nreason to feel. His confessor, the physician, my mother, and he himself\ntried in vain to soothe me. One told me how far from Christian my\nconduct was, and another that I deprived my husband of what he needed\nthe most\u2014repose. I would not listen to them. I was beside myself.\n\nOne evening I was sitting alone beside the bed of my poor sick one, and\nwas abandoning myself anew to my unreasonable anger, when Victor took\nmy hand in his, and said, in a tone that went to my very heart:\n\n\u201cAgnes, I feel very weak. Perhaps I have not long to live. I beg\nyou\u2014I conjure you\u2014to spare me the cruel sorrow of having my last\nhours embittered by a want of resignation I was far from expecting of\nyou! Of all my sufferings, this is the greatest\u2014and certainly that to\nwhich I can resign myself the least. What! my dear Agnes, do you, at\nthe very moment of my leaving you, lay aside the most precious title\nyou have in my eyes\u2014that of a Christian woman, a woman of piety and\nfortitude\u2014which transcends all others?... What! are you unable to\nsubmit to the will of God! Because his designs do not accord with your\nviews, you dare say that God no longer loves you\u2014that he is cruel!...\nMy dear, do you set up your judgment against that of God? Do you refuse\nhim the sacrifice of my life and of your enmity?... Does not my life\nbelong to him?... And is not your enmity unchristian?... Did they who\nhave reduced me to this condition intend doing me such an injury?...\nI think not. Could they have done me the least harm if God had not\npermitted them?... No matter at what moment the fatal blow falls on us,\nno matter whence it comes, it only strikes us at the time and in the\nmanner permitted by God.\u2014Agnes, kneel here beside me, and repeat the\nwords I am about to utter. Repeat them with your lips and with your\nwhole heart, whatever it may cost you. It is my wish. It is essential\nfor your own peace of mind, and also for mine. Agnes, my dear love, we\nhave prayed a thousand times together and with hearts so truly united!\nNow that you see me ill, perhaps dying ... can you refuse me the\nsupreme joy of once more uniting my soul with yours before God in the\nsame prayer?\u201d ...\n\nI burst into tears, and obeyed.\n\n\u201cO my God!\u201d he cried, \u201cwhatever thou doest is well done. Nothing can\ntempt me to doubt thy goodness. Is not thy loving-kindness often the\ngreatest when it seems disguised the most?... I firmly believe so, and\nI forgive all those who have tried to injure me. I pray thee to convert\nthem. As for me, I beg thee, O my God, to deal with me as thou judgest\nmost for thy glory and for my good.\u201d\n\nVictor uttered these words with so much fervor and emotion that I was\nstirred to the depths of my soul. A complete change took place within\nme which I attributed to my dear husband\u2019s prayers. My eyes, hitherto\ntearless, now overflowed. My anger all at once disappeared. A profound\nsadness alone remained, mingled with resignation....\n\nVictor\u2019s life continued in danger some days longer. Then\u2014oh! what\nhappiness!\u2014when I had made the sacrifice and bowed submissively to the\ndivine will, the physician all at once revived my hopes. To comprehend\nthe joy with which my heart overflowed at hearing that perhaps my\nhusband might be restored to life, you must, like me, pass through long\nhours of bitterness in which you repeat, with your eyes fastened on\nyour loved one: \u201cA few hours, and I shall behold him no more!\u201d\n\nA week after, Victor was convalescent.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\nA PROVIDENTIAL EVENT.\n\n\nVictor and I then entered upon a singular life of which I think there\nare but few instances. I felt from the first that his convalescence\nwas deceptive, and the physician secretly told him so. We both felt\nthat God allowed us to pass a few more months together, but no longer.\nThe disease was checked, but it still hung about my dear one. It\nassumed a new form, and changed into a slow malady that was surely\naccomplishing its work. As frequently happens in such complaints,\nVictor was but partially cured of inflammation of the lungs, and now\nbecame consumptive.\n\nA great poet says that no language, however perfect, can express all\nthe thoughts, all the emotions, that spring up in the soul.[35] This\nis true. I have often felt it, and now realize it more than ever. Ten\nmonths elapsed between Victor\u2019s amelioration and his death\u2014months\nmemorable for great suffering, but which have left me many delightful,\nthough melancholy, remembrances. I wish I could impart these\nrecollections to you. I hardly dare attempt it, so conscious am I of my\ninability to do them justice.\n\nHow, indeed, could I depict the love, stronger than ever, that bound\nme to my husband, spared in so unhoped-for a manner, though but for a\nbrief period\u2014so brief that I could almost count the hours? How make\nyou understand how elevated, superhuman, consoling, and yet sorrowful,\nwere our conversations? How many times Victor said to me: \u201cAgnes, how\nmerciful the good God is! See, he could have recalled me to himself\nat once, but still leaves me with you a few months longer. Oh! how\nheartily I desire to profit by this time in order to prepare for death,\nthough I fear it not! I do not wish to spend one of these last hours\nin vain. I wish to do all the good in my power, and love you better\nand better as the blessed do in heaven. Oh! how sweet it will be to\nenter upon that perfect love above, which we have imagined, and had a\nforetaste of, here below\u2014what do I say?\u2014a thousand times sweeter,\nmore perfect. Its enjoyment will be without any alloy of fear or\nsadness, for in loving, we shall have a right to say: \u2018It is for ever!\u2019\u201d\n\nBut of all the thoughts that occupied Victor\u2019s mind at that period,\nthat which was most constantly in his heart he expressed in these\nsimple but significant words: to do all the good possible! Penetrated\nwith this desire, he resumed his duties at the _Journal_ office as\nsoon as he was able. His talents had developed under the influence of\nsuffering. Every one remarked it. But controversy fatigued him, and he\nwas not able to go out every day. He was, therefore, provided with an\nassistant\u2014a young man of ability, to whom he could transfer most of\nthe labor. He took pleasure in training him for the work, saying to\nhimself: \u201cHe will be my successor. I shall still live in him, and have\nsome part in the good he will do.\u201d\n\nA part of the day, therefore, remained unoccupied. He employed these\nhours in writing a small work\u2014a simple, touching book, which was\npublished a short time before his death, and is still doing, to my\nknowledge, much good among the people.\n\nTraining his successor and publishing a useful book were two good acts\nhe took pleasure in, but, so great was his ardor for benefiting others,\nthat they did not suffice. He earnestly longed for some new opportunity\nof testifying to God how desirous he was of making a holy use of the\nlast moments of his life. \u201cAnd yet,\u201d he added, \u201cI acknowledge this\nwork is perhaps presumptuous. It is asking a special grace from God of\nwhich I am not worthy.\u201d But God granted him this longed-for opportunity\nof devoting himself to his glory, and he embraced it with a heroism\nthat won universal admiration.\n\nSpring returned, and we fell into the habit of going from time to time\nto pass a day in the country with Jeanne, my old nurse. Jeanne was one\nof those friends of a lower condition whom we often love the most.\nThere is no jealousy in such a friendship to disturb the complete union\nof soul. It is mingled with a sweet sense of protection on one side,\nand of gratitude on the other\u2014which is still sweeter.\n\nWe went there in the morning, walked around awhile, then breakfasted\nand resumed our walk. Jeanne lived at St. Saturnin, six kilom\u00e8tres\nfrom town. It is a charming place, as you are aware. Near the village\nflows a stream bordered by poplars and willows that overshadow the deep\nbut limpid waters. One morning we were walking in the broad meadow\nbeneath the shade of these trees, when suddenly we saw a young man on\nthe opposite shore, not six rods off, throw himself into the stream.\nVictor still retained a part of his natural vigor. Before I thought\nof preventing him, he sprang forward, and, seeing that the man who\nhad precipitated himself into the water did not rise to the surface,\njumped into the river, swam around some time, and finally succeeded\nin bringing the stranger to shore. I was wild with anxiety and grief.\nWithout allowing him to stop to attend to the person he had rescued,\nI forced him to return to Jeanne\u2019s in order to change his clothing.\nHe gave orders for some one to hasten to the assistance of the poor\nman for whom he had so courageously exposed his life. Several persons\nhastily left their work, and in a short time returned with the man who\nhad tried to drown himself. He was still agitated, but had recovered\nthe complete use of his faculties. At the sight of my husband in the\ngarb of a peasant, he at once comprehended to whom he owed his life.\nHe was seized with a strange tremor; he staggered, and seemed on the\npoint of fainting. Victor made every effort to bring him to himself,\nand at length succeeded. As soon as this young gentleman, who was clad\nwith uncommon elegance, recovered his strength and self-possession,\nhe seized my husband\u2019s hand and kissed it with a respect that excited\nstrange suspicions in my mind. Victor appeared to know him, but I did\nnot remember ever having seen him before. Why had he thrown himself\ninto the river? To drown himself, of course.... Why, then, did he\ntestify so much gratitude and respect for one who had hindered him from\nexecuting his project?...\n\nHe requested, in a faint, supplicating tone, to be left alone with\nVictor. The rest of us withdrew into the garden. At our return, Victor\nwhispered to me: \u201cThis gentleman is Louis Beauvais, the banker\u2019s oldest\nson. He himself will relate his history to you after our return home.\u201d\n\nThe carriage was not to come for us till four o\u2019clock. We therefore\npassed several hours together at Jeanne\u2019s. Victor devoted himself to\nLouis with an attention that touched me inexpressibly. As to Louis, a\nson could not have shown more affection to the best of fathers than he\nto Victor.\n\nThe hour of our departure came at last. We entered the carriage, and\nwere all three at home in half an hour.\n\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nHOME EDUCATION.\n\n\nAS the family is the type and basis of society, so does it contain,\nas in a microcosm, all the questions, problems, and difficulties that\nagitate the larger world. Marriage is first in importance within the\nfamily and in society, as representing the principle of creation;\neducation comes next, as representing the principle of development.\nGiven a new and perfect society, made up of individual couples whose\nunion should be absolutely satisfactory, and whose motives, thoughts,\nand actions absolutely irreproachable, how is it to be perpetuated in\nthis desirable state? If to the perfection of marriage were not added\nthe consequent perfection of education, the new society, for a moment\nraised up above former standards of approximative goodness, would, in\nthe course of half a generation, be reduced lower than any standard of\nChristian times. This is so well understood that education has come to\nbe the one cry of all parties, representing with some the conscientious\nresult of their religious belief, with others merely their ambition to\nmake a stir in the political world. Christians look to it as fitting\nmen for heaven; statesmen turn to it as fashioning the law-abiding\ncitizen; atheists see in it the means whereby successfully to blind\nmankind, and make them swallow the poison hidden under the appearance\nof superficial cleverness; the devil grasps it as a tool, or recoils\nfrom it as from a thunderbolt; but to no thinking being can it be a\nmatter of indifference.\n\nWe do not propose to go into that broader question of public education\nwhich, once within the scope of the law, and face to face with\nestablished national systems, immediately sets both hemispheres in\na ferment; but to discuss that preliminary and more vital training\nwhose silent power shows itself every day in the homes of thousands,\nneutralizing on the one hand good examples and wholesome teaching, and\non the other often redeeming from utter badness its half-corrupted\nsubject. And first taking the literal meaning of the word education,\n_i.e._ to _lead up_, or _out of_ (_e-duco_), we must remark that as\neducation is coeval with the dawn of reason, so it is also continuous.\nIt begins in the cradle, and goes on hand in hand with life to the\ngrave. All experience, good or bad, is education, not only the lessons\ntaught in school-hours, the lectures given in classes, halls, and\ncolleges, not alone the books we read and the examinations we undergo,\nbut, more emphatically, the places we frequent, the people we meet,\nthe misfortunes we go through, the work we perform. Even prosperity is\neducation, though seldom in the highest sense, but it is chiefly in the\nlower walks of fortune that the more important part of this daily and\nhourly education is imparted. For this reason specially, and in view\nof the future in which a chance word heard in the street or a stray\nvisit to some place or person may become of such subtle and paramount\ngravity, should home education in the Christian sense of the word be\nencouraged to the utmost. More particularly should this be the case in\nnon-Catholic countries. We have no outward atmosphere of religion to\ntrust to; no wayside crosses to remind us of the sufferings which our\nsins caused our Blessed Saviour; no simple shrines to bid us remember\nto pray for our invisible brethren in purgatory; no street processions\nto bring vividly before our minds that our King is more than an earthly\nlord, and our Mother more than an earthly parent.\n\nWe do not breathe Catholicity in our daily life, and there is therefore\nthe greater need of our drinking it in with our mother\u2019s milk. This\ninsensible and gradual instilling of religion into our infant minds\nis the essence of Christian \u201chome education.\u201d First among all the\ninfluences that go towards it is example. This extends over every\ndetail of the household, and can be and should be kept in view in the\npoorest as well as the most comfortable home. In the latter, certainly,\nthe duty is more stringent, the incentives to its performance lying\nso near at hand that it requires an absolutely guilty carelessness to\nneglect them. In the former, though a thousand excuses might be made\nfor the neglect of this paramount duty, it should still be remembered\nthat God\u2019s grace is all-powerful, and never fails those who seek to\ndo his will. Parents sorely tried during a day of toil and anxiety\nare often found more loving and forbearing towards their helpless\nchildren than others who, with no trouble on their minds, yet delegate\nthe \u201ctiresome\u201d office of nurse to a hired attendant; and although it\nis certainly to be deplored that in so many cases the children of the\npoor should be nothing but little men and women already weighed down\nby cares that ought to belong only to a later age, still it may be\nquestioned whether even this is not a lesser evil in the long run than\nthat other sort of neglect which makes the children of the rich, for\nthe most part, only the playthings of their parents.\n\nThe poor, on the contrary, though necessity may make their children\ndrudges, yet have in them early friends, while too often among their\nmore fortunate neighbors children count only as the ornaments of\nthe house. So that even out of evil comes good, and God has planted\nconsolations in the path of his poor which go far to soften the\nmiseries of their inevitable lot. We say inevitable, not as denying the\nimmense, unexplored possibilities of alleviating this lot which remain\nin the power of future philanthropists, but as believing in our Lord\u2019s\nprophecy, \u201cThe poor you have _always_ with you,\u201d which blessed promise\nwe count as a staff vouchsafed in mercy to help us on our way to heaven.\n\nWe have said that the duty of good example is incumbent upon every\nparent, rich or poor. But not only those broad examples which could\nhardly fail to strike even an idiot, such as abstaining from unseemly\nbrawls, from excesses of language and of self-indulgence\u2014in plain\nwords, from swearing and drinking\u2014or from manifest dishonesty; there\nare subtler things than these, and which produce indeed greater effect\non the child spectator. Gross vice has often that redeeming phase of\nbeing its own antidote by disgusting those who come in daily contact\nwith it. The principle on which the Spartans educated their children in\ntemperance by exhibiting before them the drunken helots was (however\ncruel its application on the persons of their unhappy prisoners) a\nconsummate proof of practical wisdom. That which does not carry such an\nantidote with it is more to be feared in the education of a child. A\nspirit of irritability between husband and wife; a carelessness on the\npart of either in entering cordially into the other\u2019s little interests;\nan exhibition of temper over absurd trifles or of unamiability in small\nquestions of self-denial\u2014these tell gravely upon a child\u2019s character.\nObservation and criticism are childhood\u2019s natural characteristics,\nand very logical and very pitiless are childhood\u2019s judgments. The\nold-fashioned code of a \u201cwell-behaved\u201d child used to be never to ask\nquestions; we are not so sure that this code was faultlessly wise. We\nsuffer perhaps under a somewhat aggravated form of a very dissimilar\none just now, and may be tempted\u2014not unpardonably\u2014to wish for the\npeace of the good old times back again. As usual, the middle course is\nthe most rational as well as beneficial, and if it were in our power to\nstop the violent swayings of the social pendulum from one extreme to\nthe other, we would gladly do our part in the work.\n\nIt is therefore in the more unheeded and less abnormal occurrences\nof every day that the greatest force of example lies, and that harm\nor good may be done beyond recall. Christian gentleness, that daily\nunobtrusive charity which in rough homes amply makes up for what\noutward refinement may be lacking, and in more prosperous households\nalone sets the seal of true worth upon such exterior polish as there\nis, is the golden secret of a perfect example. And this spirit should\nextend to every domestic relation, covering the whole field of\ncontingencies which may assume such grave proportions in a child\u2019s\nmemory. Your deportment to the poor, if you are rich yourself, has\nan invaluable force of example; the patience with which you listen\nto a tale of distress, the delicate courtesy implied in an attentive\nattitude, the gracefulness of your alms, and the wise but gentle\ndiscrimination of your questioning, all have an untold effect upon the\nlittle trotter by your side, hardly old enough to reason however dimly,\nbut old enough to bear away a nameless impression of the scene. On the\nother hand, think of the responsibility incurred by a rude or callous\nreception; a sneering or lofty air of caution against what you think\nmay be an imposture; above all, perhaps, a careless alms given to be\nrid of a disagreeable importunity, and a half-expression of relief when\nthe interruption is happily over! The child at your side bears away\nthis impression quite as surely, and in after-years uses its imitative\npowers quite as skilfully, as if the impression had been one of mercy\nand kindness; and a very few scenes of this sort are enough to mould\nfor a child a certain standard of behavior.\n\nAmong the domestic relations, none is more likely to strike a child\u2019s\neye than that between master and servant. Here also dangerous seeds of\nfuture heartlessness may be easily sown by the example of a careless\nor haughty parent. Considerate thought for the proper comforts of\nthose whose toil ensures your leisure is one of the foremost Christian\nduties. A child is naturally tyrannical, and this disposition, if\nfostered by an injudicious mother, may lead to a shameless persecution\nof the very persons to whose care children are most often left. This,\nin turn, will encourage tyranny on the nurse\u2019s part, and engender a\nsystem of mutual deceit; the child and the servant trying to circumvent\neach other in carrying tales, and then sheltering themselves by lies\nfrom the consequences of having carried them. Now, all this is to the\nlast degree injurious to the future character of the child; it withers\nthe principle of honor; it kills all manliness and straightforward\ndealing, and sows the seeds of those two inseparable vices, cruelty and\ncowardice. In after-life, when the despairing mother sees her darling\nsink below himself, and earn the unenviable names of bully and sneak,\ncan she blame him for shattering the ideal she blindly worshipped in\nhis person? Not so, for with justice can she look back on her own\nfolly, and with bitterness cry out, \u201c_It was my fault._\u201d\n\nVery different is the other and the good example shown by so many holy\nand conscientious women in their relations with their households.\nConsiderateness and forbearance in all things are not incompatible with\nfirmness in some. A sense of your own dignity, were it nothing higher,\nwill dictate a kind bearing towards those in humbler station; for to\nthose who never obtrude their superiority a double homage will ever be\naccorded. A child can exercise on its attendants some of the noblest\nvirtues of manhood; the household is a little world, a preparatory\nstage on which to rehearse in miniature the opportunities of\nafter-life. Pleasure given to some, a little gift or a gracious speech\nvouchsafed to others; consolation afforded to one in grief, attention\nshown to one in sickness; and, above all, a mindfulness of not making\nthe yoke of servitude too galling by restricting the natural and proper\ndiversions of those whom God has destined to bear it\u2014such are a few of\nthe lessons a child should learn, not in words alone, but in the manner\nof its parents and the unconscious radiating of an habitual example.\n\nAnother class of influences under which a child will necessarily\ncome is that of social relations. For the most part, children are\nmade too much of a show. They are taught\u2014or allowed\u2014certain little\nmannerisms which, at their age, are called charming, but, if looked\nat by the light of common sense, are simply as absurd as they are\nforward. Later on, when they begin to use their reason, they are\noften listeners to frivolous or scandalous conversations, in which\nthey pick up, if not a half-knowledge of vice, certainly a whole\nlove of gossip. Now, all this is deplorable from a Christian point\nof view. In a really Christian home\u2014a home such as we aspire to see\nat least in every Catholic family\u2014the case would be very different.\nEntertainments and f\u00eates would be judiciously \u201cfew and far between,\u201d\nand in its mother\u2019s visitors the child would see only fresh objects of\nits mother\u2019s charitable tact. If anything against charity were said,\nthe hostess would gently check the conversation, either by palliating\nthe fault alluded to, suggesting a better motive than the apparent one\nconcerning any person implicated, or turning the conversation skilfully\nto some less dangerous topic. Those formal visits, made to kill time\nor otherwise uselessly, would have no part in her day\u2019s programme, and\nwith ever charitable but firm demeanor would she effectually check the\nfrequent demands thus made upon her time by others. The child, quick\nof perception, as almost all children are, would be unconsciously\nmoulded to habits of orderly and discriminating hospitality, and would\nsoon learn to do something for God in every social pastime which it\nlegitimately enjoyed.\n\nThis brings us to the subject of order, an important virtue in the\nChristian home. Education itself, if given in a desultory fashion,\nwould be next to useless, and some of that strict apportioning of time\nwhich gives to our study hours their wholesome monotony is essential\nalso for the home training of youth. This may seem at first sight a\nvery arbitrary decision, but, when we come to look deeper into it, we\nfind that it has the same relation to the future moral life as the\nstudy of the classics or of mathematics to the intellectual life. A\nknowledge of the Greek and Latin poets, orators, and historians has\nperhaps very little influence on the practical and ultimate result of\na college education; but the effect of refinement it has on the mind,\nand the polished tone it imperceptibly gives to thought, manners, and\nconversation, are benefits simply incalculable. So with mathematics. A\nboy may not have any aptitude for that science, and may never hope to\nbecome proficient in it; still, the habit of application, the facility\nof concentrating and commanding his thoughts, which is the natural\nresult of the close study demanded by the exact sciences, are things\nwhose influence on his future career cannot be rated too high. They may\nnot unlikely ensure temporal success, and, in these days of feverish\ncompetition, this argument should not be overlooked. Still, it is from\na higher motive that we say the same of habits of order in the home.\nThis regularity, which, no doubt, may be tedious, just as mathematics\nmay be dry, is not lost on the general impressions of childhood, and,\nwere it only for its own sake, should be looked upon as a seal of\nlikeness to the works of God, which cannot fail to hallow the family\ncircle. We have said that the family is the world in miniature, and\nas the principle of order was the presiding attribute in creation, so\nought we in our daily lives to take it as a means of creating more and\nmore time, more and more opportunities, for the service of God. \u201cBe\nperfect, even as your heavenly Father is perfect.\u201d\n\nIn the education given by the constant example of the parents, nothing\nis more important than family prayer, or, at least, prayer said at\nthe mother\u2019s knee. In the most solemn of duties, it is not fitting\nthat parent and child should be separated. If Jesus has said that\nhis Father can refuse nothing to \u201ctwo or three _gathered_ together\nin his name,\u201d how much more invincible must be the joint prayer of\nthose who are linked by such close and sacred ties, those who present\nto him a faint shadow of his own humble home at Nazareth! Think you\nthat Jesus in his kingdom forgets the simple hearth where his Mother\ntaught him, according to the development of his human nature, those\nformul\u00e6 of prayer and thanksgiving which he himself, in his divine\nnature, had taught to the Jewish lawgivers? Does he forget the rites\nof circumcision and presentation, the offerings and ransom paid for\nhim according to the law, the visit to the temple at Jerusalem? He has\nshown us in his obedience to these religious observances his wish that\nwe should imitate his outward devotion and submission to the church.\nFamily worship is dear to him in remembrance of his own childhood, and\nas it is one of the most solemn, so it is also one of the sweetest\nduties of the Christian parent. It tends to give the child a proper\nspirit of faith and simple reliance, in that it sees its earthly\nparent, to whom it looks up for everything and considers as the final\narbiter of its small world, prostrate before a higher Fatherhood, and\ntaking towards the divine Omnipotence the very attitude of a submissive\nand expectant child.\n\nNext to prayer itself, pious reading cannot fail to demand our\nattention as the second great spiritual help in the routine of\nhome education. This should be simple and well suited to the\nunderstanding of young children, and, above all, should not be a dry\nand barren formality, but should be explained and amplified by the\nmother\u2019s comments. How, unless questions are freely allowed\u2014nay,\nencouraged\u2014can the extent of the impression made by spiritual reading\nbe measured? Then, what an inexhaustible resource does not this\nreading or its equivalent\u2014descriptions by word of mouth\u2014afford to a\nthoughtful parent! The beautiful narratives of the Old Testament, the\nstories of the four gospels, the many striking incidents in the lives\nof the saints, the legends of the faithful middle ages, the histories\nof the contemporaneous manifestations of God\u2019s mercy, all offer mines\nof wealth to a skilful narrator. If, instead of goblin tales more\nfit for the entertainment of rational people than for the staple of\na child\u2019s too credulous meditations, these holy histories became the\nnursery rhymes of the future generation, it would be well indeed for\nthe spiritual advance of our age. If among the romances of medi\u00e6val\ntimes more of those were chosen in which religion figures than of those\nwhere fairy and elf appear, it would be a better promise for the future\nhealth, moral and physical, of our people. Who knows how much of that\nnervousness which is the characteristic disease of our day is due to\nthose unwholesome terrors of infancy, those threats of bogy and ogre,\nwith which children are frightened into silence or lulled into uneasy\nsleep! The child who would be, in a manner, the companion of the boy\nJesus, of the child Precursor, the infant Samuel, the Holy Innocents,\nthe children of whom our Lord said, \u201cSuffer them to come unto me, and\nforbid them not,\u201d and of the many boy and girl saints\u2014S. Rose of\nViterbo, S. Aloysius Gonzaga, S. Stanislaus Kostka\u2014would be a far\nhealthier and more manly subject than the mental companion of deformed\nsprites and forest goblins. The young mind is so impressionable that it\nis the greatest possible mistake to let its first exercise of reason\nspend itself on unrealities; they are apt to take on an influence not\nreadily shaken off, and to cumber the ground long after room is needed\nfor more serious growths of thought. This may seem an exceptional mode\nof proceeding, perhaps an eccentric one, the contrary having for so\nmany ages held sway, but we take leave to think that it has reason,\nexpediency, and religion on its side.\n\nTo this great duty of example, which ramifies itself as often as there\nare distinct classes of influence, is added the duty of vigilance.\nParents need not only the knowledge of what to impart, but the instinct\nof what to shun. As watchers over a citadel, they have to guard against\nthe masked inroads of the enemy, and carefully to sift their children\u2019s\nsurroundings, whether social or domestic, lest any taint should lurk\nin the association. We have read somewhere in a book of devotion that\nthose who carry great treasures in a frail vessel naturally take the\ngreater care as to their gait and speed; they look well to see if the\nroad is level, or to avoid its irregularities if it is not; they take\nheed to keep their eyes and mind intent on what they bear, so as to\nbring it safe to its destination. Even so does the mother carry in her\nhands the priceless treasure of a human soul, and her solicitude for\nits perfect preservation from all taint or attack should be little less\nthan that of the child\u2019s Guardian Angel himself. If, as we have just\nhinted, she should choose with such scrupulous care even the companions\nof his fancy, so much the more should this judicious censorship be\nextended to the real companions of his studies or recreations. Perhaps\nthe influence of childish association is even greater than the mother\u2019s\nown, and what the latter may have laboriously sown will be uprooted in\na moment by the former. Children\u2019s minds, in indiscriminate contact\nwith each other, are as powder and spark brought together; if each\nhad been kept until the right moment, and applied in the right way,\nwe might have had an illumination; as it is, we have a conflagration.\nAs childhood merges into youth, the choice of a school brings this\nquestion of companionship into prominence. In a public institution,\nit is not possible to admit only children who come, well-taught and\ndocile-minded, from irreproachable homes; the very aim and end of\nthe institution would thus be frustrated. Nor is it possible for its\nparents, once a child is admitted, to choose absolutely who, among its\nmany school-fellows, shall be its special friends. Much may be done\nin that way by advice, tact, and prayer; still, guidance falls far\nshort of absolute choice. It is therefore evident that the greater\ncare should be taken to choose the school which in itself shall have\nthe greatest influence in moulding the character of its scholars,\nand thereby in transforming into fitter companions for the new-comer\nthose very children who, _nolens volens_, must needs be his everyday\nacquaintances. But the influence of home does not cease with the first\nday at school. Letters from home, breathing the old atmosphere, will\ncarry the child back, week by week, to his old associations, be they\ngood or bad; the holidays will bring him again within the fascination\nof the old circle, and occasional visits from the companions of his\nearly childhood will complete the charm. Thus an infinite amount of\ngood, or a corresponding amount of harm, may yet be done after the home\neducation period has, strictly speaking, passed away.\n\nAnd here is, perhaps, the best place to touch upon the holy influence\nwhich an elder brother or sister may exercise on a younger one. This,\none of the most powerful means of good, is only second to that of the\nparents themselves, and may furnish a very beautiful illustration\nof true and discerning brotherly love. It is spiritual friendship\nengrafted upon the stock of natural affection, itself a noble virtue\nand most sweet tie, which has often, even in heathen times, produced\ngreat effects. Under this figure of brotherhood God has typified\nhis union with creatures; he made himself our Brother through the\nincarnation; and everywhere brotherhood is synonymous with the\ndearest and purest fellowship. Our brothers and sisters in the flesh,\nespecially if they are younger than ourselves, are as much our care\nand charge as they are of our parents; and of this we have a striking\ninstance in the very first book of the Pentateuch, and only a few\nyears after the sinless creation of Adam. Cain\u2019s defiant plea, \u201cAm\nI my brother\u2019s keeper?\u201d failed to meet with God\u2019s endorsement, but\nbrought instead the terrible answer that he should be \u201ca fugitive and\na vagabond upon the earth.\u201d In the daily companionship of brotherhood,\nthis scene is often re-enacted; souls are slain by their own kindred,\nand the world smiles and passes blindly on. But God has set a mark upon\nthe murderer by which the devils know him and kill him not, because\nthey know too well whose road he is even now treading, and that in the\nlast day his mark shall be revealed to all. Here is the dark side of\nthat continuous education which is as potently at work in dens of shame\nand places of pleasant danger as it is in Christian homes and schools.\nHere is that nefarious education which neutralizes or obliterates the\nhappy past, and leads our young men by tortuous paths of gradual vice\nto the end of many such deceptive panoramas\u2014the gallows or suicide.\n\nFalse example, insidious promptings, rash indulgences, intoxicating\nfreedom, wily friendship\u2014through these and many kindred forms, subtle\nmay be and proportionately dangerous, the devil, in the person of your\nbrother or your seeming friend, leads you on till the murder of Abel\nis repeated, and the insolent excuse flung back to heaven: \u201cAm I my\nbrother\u2019s keeper?\u201d\n\nThe system of rewards and punishments has much to do with the moral\ntraining of youth. With regard to this, we may startle our readers\nby broaching views so different from those time-honored ones that\npretend to find their sanction in the Biblical rule, \u201cSpare the rod,\nand spoil the child,\u201d as to seem heretical to good old-fashioned,\njog-trot parents.[36] But what if the Scripture itself were to fail\nthem? What authority have they for understanding \u201cthe rod\u201d in its\nliteral instead of its figurative sense? The rod was, with the Hebrews,\nan emblem of power: witness the miracles of Aaron in Egypt, and the\nblossoming of his rod when his supreme authority was called in question\nby the rebellion of Core. \u201cThe rod\u201d may therefore very plausibly be\ntaken as meaning parental authority, and the text would thus imply\nnothing more than a declaration that the _carelessness_ of the parent\nwill be responsible for the wrong-headedness of the child. In this\nsense we prefer to read this passage, and for this reason: physical\npunishments and rewards will be indissolubly associated in a young\nchild\u2019s mind with his good or bad actions, just as they are coupled\nin the memory and instinct of a dog with the various desirable or\nundesirable things it has been taught or forbidden to do. This produces\na low and degrading standard by which moral actions are henceforward\nmeasured by the child, and later on will lead to the impression that\nthe absence of such tangible consequences argues the right to do as\nhe pleases, irrespective of merely moral restraints; whereas, if\nthe rewards and punishments meted out to him are of the moral and\nintellectual order, his conception of the principle of duty will be\nabstract and independent. Childhood has a natural leaning towards\ndeception; therefore truth should be made not only prominent, but\nattractive. To own a fault, and even to confess it unasked, should be\nan understood palliation of the fault itself; whereas any attempt at\nconcealment should be treated as a far graver offence than the action\nconcealed. In a word, the principle of Christian honor should be the\nkeynote of home education, and any meanness should be condemned as\nthe most contemptible of all faults. Sensitive as children are to\nthe slightest alteration of manner in their regard, they would feel\nkeenly the silence and avoidance which this plan presupposes in their\nparents\u2019 conduct towards them when guilty of a dishonorable action,\nand, by associating the idea of _wrong_ with that of _disgrace_, would\nvery soon be brought to a truer estimate of morals than if wrong with\nthem was only the synonyme of _pain_. Again, the system of physical\npunishment invariably leads to defiance; it stirs up a spirit of\ncontradiction and sullenness which gradually encrusts the young mind\nwith the deplorable proof-armor of ultimate indifference. We need give\nbut one example\u2014a personal one\u2014of the immense superiority of moral\nover physical punishment. As a child, we were stubborn and self-willed,\nand were frequently treated, not exactly to corporal indignities, but\nto threadbare schoolroom devices for overcoming temper. Two or three\ntimes it happened that, these worn-out means proving as inefficient\nas \u201cwater on a duck\u2019s back,\u201d fatherly authority had to be invoked. It\nalways took one form\u2014silence. For a week there would be none of the\nhappy familiarities between father and child, but, instead, a cessation\nof the usual pleasant and indulgent intercourse, and now and then a\ngrave look of displeasure as the culprit would make some spasmodic\nand despairing advance. This was the only punishment which made the\nslightest impression, and the keen remembrance of it lasts to this\nday. Sometimes, when we were older, another variety was tried. Instead\nof being, according to the old code, starved on bread and water in a\ndark closet, we were seated alone at a table, while the rest of the\nfamily ate together as usual; every dish was ceremoniously brought up\nand served at our solitary meal, and every servant in the house was\nperfectly aware of the cause; no one spoke or offered us the least\nattention beyond the ordinary formalities, and we were treated half\nlike a distinguished prisoner, half like an excommunicated person. The\nresult was admirable, prompt in the extreme, and certain to ensure an\nunusually long term of subsequent docility.\n\nRewards are no less important than punishments. Of these, knowledge\nand religious opportunities should, in our idea, form the staple.\nThey are thus invested with a personal interest to the child; they\ncome before him as things specially concerning his own good behavior\nand his parents\u2019 appreciation of it. For instance, the mother reads\nhim Scripture stories and the legends of the saints; he listens with\nabsorption, and longs to read the book himself, but the road through\nthe alphabet and spelling-book is uninviting. Why not teach him through\nthe book itself? The illuminated capitals will strike him by their\nbeauty, the pictures will lend force to the difficult words, and help\nhis memory to connect them with the illustrated subject. Instead of\nfinding church services an irksome interruption to his games, he might\nbe made to look upon them as the highest rewards he can obtain. For a\nwell-learnt lesson in catechism, he might be taught to chant one of\nthose immortal poems, the Psalms; for proficiency in Bible history,\nhe might be taken to some of the most picturesque of our solemn\nceremonies, and hear, on the way, of the typical manner in which it\nis connected with that history; for an act of childish self-denial,\nhe might be allowed to serve as acolyte at Mass. Even these rewards,\nhowever, should not be injudiciously multiplied, for familiarity would\nbeget irreverence,\u2014the worst stumbling-block that could be laid in\na child\u2019s spiritual path. We think that a Christian education in\nthe early days of childhood could go no further in perfection than\nthis\u2014the thorough identification of all happiness with religion.\n\nWe have yet to speak of a detail in household economy, which, in point\nof interest, is one of the foremost. Personal attention to a child is a\npart of the mother\u2019s duty of vigilance, and the fashionable custom of\nleaving such attention to domestics cannot be reprobated too strongly.\nThis personal care is, first of all, an instinct of nature which it\nmust require a very thick coating of frivolity entirely to supersede;\nand it is, secondly, a duty of religion from which even great physical\nsickness cannot conscientiously release the parent. Numberless evils\nflow from a neglect of this imperious duty. The forsaken child will\nlearn in time to forget its mother, to think of her as a splendid\nbeing very far from him\u2014one not to be annoyed by his cries or made\nnervous by his romps, but to be gazed at from afar, like a grand\npicture or work of art. Happy child if an affectionate, compassionate\nnurse takes the vacant place of his own mother, and makes him familiar\nwith those sweet, nameless trivialities that make up the world of a\nchild\u2019s heart; but, even so, how sad the necessity for such comfort!\nHow much more sad, then, the position of the unloved child, neglected\neven by its nurse, or left to the well-meaning but questionable petting\nof the other servants! They will not be reticent, though they may be\nobsequious, and the future character of their charge will be warped\nbeyond remedy. Pride, too, will be ridiculously fostered, and will\ndrive tenderness away; a certain recklessness will be infused into\nthe child\u2019s habits, and reverence, refinement, sensitiveness, will be\npetrified within him. He will feel himself of no value, since no one\ncares for him, and, if no happy influence stops his downward course, he\nwill be a cynic before he is twenty-five.\n\nWe have said so much in this strain, and made so much of the gloomy\nside of the question, that we feel bound to speak a little more fully\nof the model Christian home, not only as it should be, but\u2014thank God\nthat we can say it!\u2014as it very often is. We know that, according\nto Father Faber\u2019s beautiful expression, \u201cGod has many Edens in this\nworld,\u201d and surely among our Christian homes many deserve this name.\n\nThere are those in which the father is not absorbed in business and the\nmother by fashion, where the servants are happy and attached members of\nthe family, where daily prayer and cheerful work alternate with each\nother in order, where recreation does not degenerate into riot, nor\nwork conduce to moroseness. Healthy exercise and early hours keep the\ndoctor from the door, while constant industry repulses the proverbial\nvisitor who always \u201cfinds mischief for idle hands to do.\u201d The father\nis the genial companion of his children, and does not lose their\nrespect by gaining their confidence; the mother is the guardian spirit\nof the household, the wise woman of the Proverbs, \u201cwhose children\nrose up and called her blessed; her husband, and he praised her.\u201d\nTowards each other the husband and wife behave as they would before\nthe angels of God, because they remember that he who scandalizeth \u201ca\nlittle one\u201d is accursed, and that the angel of \u201cthe little one,\u201d who\nis there continually beside him and in some sort represents him in\nheaven, \u201cbeholds the face of the Lord.\u201d The children are submissive,\nnot through fear, but through _reason_ and love; for the acknowledged\nsuperiority of their elders has a rational force with them, and they\nthink themselves honored in obeying those who are wiser than they. They\nhave Jesus of Nazareth ever before their eyes\u2014the Boy who, as he grew\nin years, \u201cwaxed strong in wisdom and grace,\u201d and who, though he was\nGod, \u201cwent down, and was subject to them.\u201d\n\nThis life, peaceful, orderly, religious, the life of the cloister\ntranslated into the home, is in itself education. Its holy influence\nis not confined to space or time, but will live in the hearts of\nthe scattered family through youth and manhood to extreme old age.\nIn fancy, they will be able to reconstruct that home; in spirit, to\nrevisit it long after its dearest inmates shall have left it for their\nheavenly home, long after its material frame shall have passed away to\nother, perhaps to careless, hands. In their various resting-places,\nwhether a new home, the daughter of that shrine, or only a rock just\nabove the level of the sea of fortune, the hallowed remembrance will\ncome back to them freighted with hope and strength for the future. Even\nin heaven, the Son of God is called Jesus of _Nazareth_, and can _we_\nforget the home and the mother that made us what we are?\n\nIn all that pertains to this ideal, although man is bound to subserve\nit to the utmost, woman is more solemnly pledged to its fulfilment.\nMan has the world for his empire: woman has man\u2014during the years of\nhis pupilage. The mother\u2019s education is the child\u2019s second birth, and\nshe who, being mother to the body of her child, neglects that more\nlaborious training which accompanies its moral development, practically\nrefuses to be the mother of its soul. To a woman failing in her home\nduties is attached more reproach than to a neglectful husband and\nfather, because her office is the more sacred, her position the nearer\nto God. It was a woman who was glorified by the most miraculously close\nunion with God that the universe has ever seen, and by that standard\nalone should womanhood and motherhood be judged. If it falls short of a\nfaint copy of Mary the mother of Jesus, it is condemned, for the state\nthat has been the most divinely exalted should ever after remain the\nmost humanly perfect.\n\nThe mere temporal importance of home education, though secondary to\nits spiritual aspect, cannot be overlooked. Besides the duty of the\nangel\u2014training souls for heaven\u2014woman has the duty of the citizen,\n_i.e._ training patriots for the state. Without faith there is no love\nof country in the highest sense; without discipline, no love of law.\nIt is woman\u2019s task to mould the men who, in the future, will mould the\nnation. High or low it matters not: the mother of the statesman and the\nmother of the laborer work alike towards their country\u2019s glory. The\nstate needs hands as well as heads, and the mason who cuts the common\nstones has as much part and should have as much pride in the completed\nbuilding as the artist who carves the wonderful pinnacles or fashions\nthe marvellous capitals.\n\nWe have spoken perhaps too exclusively of the duties and circumstances\nof the higher classes in this matter of home education. Perhaps it is\nnot altogether unprovidential that we should have been led to do so;\nfor of the various divisions of humanity which our Lord in his parable\nof the sower represents under the figure of the different accidents\nthat befell the good seed, we know which is, unhappily, the least\nproductive. Jesus himself has explained that the thorns which choked\nthe seed are the \u201ccares, and riches, and pleasures of this life.\u201d\nMark well, the _cares_; not only the riches and pleasures, for those\nself-sought and profitless cares have not the blessings on them which\nthe God-given cares of poverty have. The poor and lowly too often\nshame their more fortunate brethren by their greater self-devotion and\ngenerosity. Their homes, so much less prosperous, are yet often so much\nmore edifying, than ours; and let it be remembered that every act of\ntheirs has, according to the measure of their inferior opportunities,\ndouble the merit of any similar act of ours. So with the wholesome\nreticence which becomes us who have so many opportunities _and neglect\nthem_: we have preferred to point out the beam that is in our own\neye, rather than pharisaically to expatiate on the mote that is in\nour neighbor\u2019s. Yet we would not that any class should deem itself\nexempt from the duties of home education\u2014duties which, with the poor,\nhave all the added merit of absolute heroism. The poor are told, and\ndoubtless truly, by our teachers and superiors, that their condition\nshould be dear to them because it was that of our Lord himself; but\nwe, their brethren and fellow-pilgrims, should labor to supplement\nthis teaching by making that very condition less irksome to them. Who\ncan dream of Jesus on earth as _not_ being poor and destitute? But, on\nthe other hand, who would dare, were he now on earth, to be behindhand\nin ministering to his poverty? Now, the alms we _owe_ to his earthly\nrepresentatives are twofold, _i.e._ spiritual and temporal. Among the\nformer, none are so meritorious as good examples. Have we not in these\ndays a perpetual and most sadly grotesque picture of class aping class,\nof tawdriness following close on the heels of fashion, of aspiring\nvanity actually crowding out the legitimate needs of the body? If\nthis system of imitation must be, why not give it a worthy subject to\npractise upon?\n\nReform, to be practical, must begin in the higher strata of society;\nfor not only to individuals, but also, in a wider sense, to classes,\nis the keepership of brotherhood entrusted. We _are_ our \u201cbrother\u2019s\nkeeper,\u201d and our \u201cbrother\u201d is the mass of men who look up to us for\nguidance. As long as our fathers and husbands care more for their\noffice than their home, so long will the bulk of the nation be mere\nanimated machines snatching after precarious wealth; as long as our\nwives and mothers care more for the drawing-room than for the nursery\nand study, so long will the mass of women be heartless coquettes or\nabandoned harlots. We speak strongly, because we feel strongly. This\nis an age of initial struggle, which our faith should turn into an\nera of better things. If we need any \u201cnew departure,\u201d let it be the\ndeparture from frivolity to domesticity, from contemptible weakness\nto the manliness of the Gospel. And here let us say one word to the\nhead of the family, to him without whose example even the mother\u2019s\ninfluence is incomplete. Business is _not_ the whole of life; it is\n_not_ even the first earthly good to be sought for. Success often kills\nhappiness, and its exclusive pursuit always kills peace. The father who\nallows business to isolate him from all the tenderer interests of his\nhome achieves two things: he alienates his children\u2019s affection\u2014after\nhaving very likely worn out his wife\u2019s devotion\u2014and he teaches them\nbetimes the baneful lesson that before Mammon all other interests\nmust bow. This false doctrine his children will teach to theirs by an\nexample equally gloomy with his own, and thus God will be forgotten in\nthe very gifts which one word of his mouth could turn in a moment to\ndust and ashes.\n\nShall this be so, or will Christian parents take heed to their duty?\n\n\n\n\nTHE PICTURE OF THE RIVI\u00c8RE QUELLE.\n\nA CANADIAN LEGEND.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF M. L\u2019ABBE CASGRAIN.\n\n\nI.\u2014THE MISSIONARY.\n\nREADER, have you ever been in the old church of the Rivi\u00e8re Ouelle? In\none of its side-chapels is an _ex-voto_ which was placed there many\nlong years ago by a stranger who was miraculously preserved from death.\nIt is a very old picture, full of dust, and of no artistic value,\nbut it recalls a touching story; I learned it when very young, on my\nmother\u2019s knees, and it has remained as fresh and vivid in my memory as\nwhen I first heard it.\n\nIt was a cold winter evening, long, long ago. The snow was beating\nagainst the window-sashes, and the icy north wind howled and shrieked\namong the naked branches of the great elms in the garden. The whole\nfamily had assembled in the _salon_. Our mother, after playing several\nairs on the piano, allowed her fingers to wander restlessly over the\nkeys\u2014her thoughts were elsewhere. A shade of sadness passed over her\nbrow. \u201cMy dear children,\u201d said she, after a moment\u2019s silence, \u201csee what\na fearful night this is; perhaps many poor people will perish before\nmorning from cold and hunger. How thankful we ought to be to God for\nour good food and warm, comfortable beds! Let us say our rosary for the\npoor travellers who may be exposed to such dangers during the night.\u201d\nAnd then she added, \u201cIf you say it with devotion, I will tell you all\na beautiful story.\u201d Oh! how we wished that our rosary was finished! At\nthat age the imagination is so vivid and the soul so impressionable.\nChildhood possesses all the charms of the golden dawn of life;\nenveloping every object in shade and mystery, it clothes each in a\npoetry unknown to any other age.\n\nWe gathered around our mother, near the glowing stove, which diffused a\ndelicious warmth throughout the apartment, and listened in a religious\nsort of silence to her sweet and tender voice. I almost think I hear it\nnow. Listen with me to her story:\n\nToward the middle of the last century, a missionary, accompanied by\nseveral Indians, ascended the south bank of the St. Lawrence River,\nabout thirty leagues below Quebec. The missionary was one of those\nintrepid pioneers of faith and civilization whose sublime figures are\nthrown out from the dark background of the past, surrounded by a halo\nof glory and immortality. Nailed on Golgotha during the days of their\nbloody pilgrimage, they shine to-day on a new Tabor; and the light\nwhich radiates from their faces illuminates the present and throws\nitself far into the future. At their names alone, the people, seized\nwith wonder and respect, bow low their heads; for these names recall\na courage most superhuman, a faith most admirable, and a devotedness\nmost sublime. He whom we are following at this moment was one of those\nillustrious children of the Society of Jesus, whose entire life was\nconsecrated to the conversion of the savages of Canada. He was not\nvery tall, and stooped slightly; his beard, blanched prematurely by\nhardships, and his pale and attenuated features, seemed to indicate\na want of strength and endurance for so hard a life; but this frail\nbody concealed one of those grand souls which draw from the energy of\ntheir will an inexhaustible strength. His large, expansive forehead\nsuggested a proportionate intellect, and his features wore an\nexpression of incomparable sweetness and simplicity; the least shade\nof a melancholy smile played over his lips\u2014in a word, his whole face\nseemed filled with that mysterious glory with which sanctity illumines\nher predestined souls.\n\nThe leader of the little band was a few steps in advance. He was\nan old Indian warrior who a long time before had been converted to\nChristianity by this holy missionary, and who from that time became the\nfaithful companion of all his adventurous wanderings.\n\nThe travellers advanced slowly on their _raquettes_[37] over a soft,\nthick snow. It was one of those superb December nights whose marvellous\nsplendor is entirely unknown to the people of the South, with which\nthe old year embellishes its waning hours to greet the advent of the\nnew-comer. Innumerable stars poured their light in silver tears over\nthe blue firmament of heaven\u2014we might say tears of joy which the\nglory of the Sun of Justice draws from the eyes of the blessed. The\nmoon, ascending through the different constellations, amused itself\nby contemplating in the snowy mirror its resplendent disk. Toward\nthe north, luminous shafts radiated from a dark cloud which floated\nalong the horizon. The aurora borealis announces itself first by pale,\nwhitish jets of flame which slowly lick the surface of the sky; but\nsoon the scene grows more animated, the colors deepen, and the light\ngrows larger, forming an arch around an opaque cloud. It assumes the\nmost bizarre forms. In turn appear long skeins of white silk, graceful\nswan-plumes, or bundles of gold and silver thread; then a troop of\nwhite phantoms in transparent robes execute a fantastic dance. Now it\nis a rich satin fan whose summit touches the zenith, and whose edges\nare fringed with rose and saffron tints; finally, it is an immense\norgan, with pearl and ivory pipes, which only awaits a celestial\nmusician to intone the sublime hosanna of nature to the Creator. The\nstrange crackling sound which accompanies this brilliant phenomenon\ncompletes the illusion; for it is strangely like the sighs which escape\nfrom an organ whose pipes are filled with a powerful wind. It is the\nprelude of the divine concert which mortal ears are not permitted\nto listen to. The scene which presented itself below was not less\nfascinating in its savage beauty than that of the sky above.\n\nThe cold, dry atmosphere was not agitated by a single breath; nothing\nwas heard but the dull monotonous roaring of the gigantic river,\nsleeping under a coverlet of floating ice, which dotted its dark waters\nlike the spotted skin of an immense leopard. A light white vapor rose\nlike the breath from the nostrils of a marine monster. Toward the\nnorth, the blue crests of the Laurentides were clearly defined, from\nCape Tourmente to the mouth of the Saguenay. In a southern direction\nthe last slopes of the Alleghanies stretched along, covered with\npines, firs, and maples; almost the entire shore was densely wooded,\nfor at the remote period which we describe those vast clearings along\nthe banks covered with abundant meadows were not to be seen, nor the\npretty little whitewashed houses grouped in villages along the shore\nso coquettishly, a person could easily compare them to bands of swans\nsleeping on the river-banks. A sea of forest covered these shores. A\nfew scattered houses appeared here and there, but this was all.\n\n\nII.\u2014THE APPARITION.\n\nThe travellers advanced in silence toward the middle of the wood,\nwhen suddenly the leader of the party stopped, making at the same\ntime a sign with his hand for his companions to do likewise. \u201cYou are\nmistaken, comrade,\u201d said the missionary to him; \u201cthe noise that you\nhave just heard was only a tree split by the frost.\u201d\n\nThe Indian turned slowly toward him, an almost imperceptible smile\npassing over his face. \u201cMy brother,\u201d said he, in a low voice, \u201cif you\nsaw me take your holy word,[38] and try to read in it, you would laugh\nat me. I do not wish to laugh at you, for you are a black-gown; but\nI tell you, you do not know the voices of the forest, and the noise\nwhich we have just heard is a human voice. Follow me at a distance,\nwhile I go on to see what is happening yonder.\u201d The travellers walked\non for some time without seeing anything. The father began to think he\nhad not been deceived, when they came to an opening in the woods, and\nsaw the Indian stop. What was his astonishment, when, following the\ndirection in which the savage was looking, he saw at the extreme end of\nthe opening a very extraordinary light, apparently detached from the\nobscurity of the trees. In the midst of this luminous globe appeared\na vague, indistinct form, elevated above the ground. Then another\nspectacle that the brilliancy of the strange vision had prevented him\nfrom seeing before, was presented to his gaze.\n\nA young man dressed in military uniform was kneeling at the foot of a\ntree. His hands were clasped and his eyes turned towards heaven; he\nseemed absorbed in the contemplation of a mysterious and invisible\nobject. Two corpses, which were easily recognized as an officer and a\nsoldier from their uniforms, were lying by his side in the snow. The\nofficer, an elderly man with gray hair, was lying against a maple; in\nhis hands was a little book, about to slip out of them. His head was\nleaning on his right shoulder, and his face had that ashy hue which too\nplainly told that death already claimed him. A bluish circle surrounded\nhis half-closed eyes, and a last tear stood congealed on his livid\ncheek. A placid smile was on his face, indicating that a supreme hope,\nwhich faith alone could inspire, had consoled his last moments.[39]\n\nThe noise made by the travellers\u2019 feet in the snow caused the young\nman, who was still on his knees, to turn suddenly round. \u201cO father! my\nfather!\u201d cried he, rushing toward the missionary, \u201cit is Providence who\nhas sent you here to save me. I was about to share the terrible fate of\nmy unfortunate companions, when\u2014a prodigy!\u2014a miracle!\u201d\u2014suffocated by\nhis tears and sobs, he could say no more, but, throwing himself into\nthe arms of the missionary, he pressed him to his heart.\n\n\u201cCalm yourself, my dear son,\u201d said the old man; \u201cfor in your feeble\nand exhausted state such violent emotion might prove fatal.\u201d Scarcely\nhad he finished the words, when he felt the young man\u2019s head sink\nheavily on his shoulder, and his body become a dead weight\u2014he had\nfainted.\n\nThe travellers eagerly bestowed on him every care that his situation\nrequired and that lay in their power. His two friends, alas! were\nbeyond reach of human succor. The savages dug their graves in the snow,\nand the saintly missionary, after reciting some prayers over their\nbodies, cut with his knife a large cross in the bark of the maple at\nthe foot of which they had breathed their last\u2014a simple but sublime\nmonument of hope and love, destined to guard their earthly remains.\n\n\nIII.\u2014A CANADIAN HOME.\n\nSee you yonder, on the slope of the hill, that pretty cottage, so neat\nand white, with its little thatched barn, so clearly defined against\nthe caressing foliage of that beautiful copse of maples? Well, that is\na Canadian home. From its high green pedestal it smiles at the great\nrolling river, in whose wave is mirrored its trembling image, and which\nso gently comes to expire at its feet; for the happy proprietor of this\npretty dwelling loves his great, beautiful river, and has been careful\nto establish his home on its banks. Sometimes, when necessity obliges\nhim to go away, he is always homesick, because he must listen to its\ngrand voice, and contemplate its wooded islands and distant shores;\nhe must caress with his eyes its waters, sometimes calm, sometimes\nfoaming and turbulent. A stranger who is not familiar with the\n_habitant_ of our country, and who imagines that there is an affinity\nto his ancestor\u2014the peasant of old France\u2014is much mistaken. More\nenlightened, and, above all, more religious, he is far from sharing\nhis precarious condition. The former is, in comparison, a veritable\nprince; perfectly independent on his sixty or eighty arpents of land,\nsurrounded by a cedar enclosure, he is furnished with everything\nnecessary for an honest and comfortable subsistence.\n\nLet us now peep under this roof, whose exterior is so attractive.\nI should like to sketch it just as I\u2019ve seen it so frequently. On\nentering the _tambour_, or passage-way, two pails of fresh water,\nstanding on a wooden bench, and a tin cup hanging against the wall,\nhospitably invite you to quench your thirst. In an inner room the\nmother of the family is quietly spinning near the window, while the\nsoup is boiling on the stove. A calico cape, a blue skirt of domestic\nmanufacture, a _caline_[40] neatly fixed on her head, completes her\ntoilet. The baby sleeps in its cradle at her side; from time to time\nshe smiles at its bright little face, as fresh as a rose, peeping out\nfrom the quilt, whose triangular patches of the brightest colors are\ningeniously distributed over it. In a corner of the room the eldest\ndaughter sits on a chest, singing merrily, while she works at her loom;\nquickly and skilfully the shuttle flies between her hands; she makes\nin a day several measures of cloth, which she will use next year to\nmake into garments. In another corner stands the huge bed, with its\nwhite and blue counterpane, and at its head a crucifix surrounded with\npictures. That little branch of withered fir above the cross is the\nblessed palm. Two or three barefooted little urchins are playing on\nthe floor, harnessing up a dog. The father, bending over the stove,\ngravely lights his pipe with a firebrand. He is accoutred in a red\nwoollen cap, vest and pants of a grayish material, and rough, heavy\nboots. After each meal he must \u201ctake a smoke\u201d before going out to\nplough or to thresh in the barn. There is an air of thrift and comfort\nabout the house; the voices of the children, the songs of the young\ngirl, with her spinning-wheel accompaniment, the appearance of health\nand happiness written on their faces, tell of the peace and serenity of\ntheir lives.\n\nIf ever, in travelling through this country, you are overtaken by a\nsnowstorm or severe cold, go and knock without fear at the door of\nthe Canadian cottager, and you will be received with that warmth and\ncordiality which their ancestors have transmitted to them as a souvenir\nand a relic of the Old Country; for this antique French hospitality,\nwhich can scarcely be found now in certain parts of France, seems to\nhave taken refuge under the roof of the Canadian _habitant_. With his\nlanguage and religion, he has piously preserved many of his old habits\nand customs. The traveller who rested under his roof a century ago\nwould to-day find the same manners and characteristics.\n\nIt is in the parish of the Rivi\u00e8re Ouelle, in the bosom of one of these\ngood Canadian families, that we find again our missionary and his\ncompanions. All the family, eager to hear the extraordinary adventures\nof the young officer, had gathered round him. He was a young man, from\ntwenty to twenty-five years of age, with fine, delicate features;\nhis dark wavy hair fell over and partially shaded his high forehead,\nand his proud glance revealed the loyalty of the French soldier; but\nan extreme pallor, consequent on the fatigue and privations he had\nundergone, had left a touching and melancholy expression on his face,\nwhile his refined and finished manners told of an equally finished and\ncareful education.\n\n\nIV.\u2014THE SILHOUETTE.\n\n\u201cMore than a month ago,\u201d said the young officer, \u201cI left the country\nof the Abnakis, accompanied by my father, a soldier, and an Indian\nguide. We were bearing very important dispatches to the governor of\nthe colony. We travelled along through the forest for several days\nwithout any accident, when, one evening, overcome with fatigue, we lit\na fire and camped for the night near an Indian cemetery. According to\nthe custom of the savages, every corpse was wrapped in a shroud of\ncoarse bark, and placed high above the ground on four stakes. Bows\nand arrows, tomahawks, and some ears of maize were hung against these\nrude graves, and shook and rattled as the wind passed over them. Our\nown savage was seated just in front of me, on the half-decayed trunk\nof a pine-tree that had fallen to the ground, and seemed half buried\nin profound meditation. The fitful flames of the fire threw a weird\nlight over his gigantic frame. An Indian might readily have compared\nhim to one of the superb maples of our forest, had he been able at the\nsame time to have united with it the cunning of the serpent and the\nagility of the elk. His height was increased by a quantity of black,\nred, and white feathers tied with his hair on the top of his head. His\nferocious features, piercing black eyes, his tomahawk and long knife,\nhalf concealed by the trophy of scalps which hung from his belt, gave\nhim a wild and sanguinary appearance. The night was dark and bitter\ncold. The low and unequal arch formed by the interlacing branches of\nthe trees, and illuminated by the flickering light of our pine-wood\nfire, seemed like a vast cavern, and the old trunks of the rotten\ntrees, which were buried in the snow, looked like the corpses of giants\nstrewn around. The birches, covered with their white bark, seemed\nlike wandering phantoms in the midst of this _d\u00e9bris_, and the dull\nrumbling of the distant torrent, and the wind moaning and whistling\nthrough the leafless branches, completed the weird funereal aspect\nof the place. Any one slightly superstitious could easily believe he\nheard the sighing spirits of the Indian warriors who lay buried so\nnear us. In spite of myself, a shiver of horror ran through my veins.\nHere, in the midst of all this grim rubbish, where every rock and tree\nwas transformed by the shadows into as many spectres watching his\nmovements; our audacious savage appeared as grave and tranquil as if he\nhad been in his own cabin.\n\n\u201c\u2018Comrade,\u2019 said I to him, \u2018do you think we need fear any danger still\nfrom those Iroquois whose trail we discovered yesterday?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Has my brother already forgotten that we found it again this morning?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But there were only two,\u2019 said I.\n\n\u201c\u2018 Yes; but an Iroquois can very quickly communicate with his comrades.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But these were not on the war-path; they were hunting an elk.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Yes; but the snow is deep, and they could soon kill him without much\nfatigue, and then\u2014\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Well!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018And then, their hunger once satisfied\u2014\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Finish!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I say they might, perhaps, amuse themselves by hunting the\nwhiteskins.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But the whites are at peace with the Iroquois.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018The Iroquois never bury but half of the war-hatchet; and, besides,\nthey have raised the tomahawk against the warriors of my tribe, and if\nthey discover the track of an Abnakis among yours\u2014\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018You think, then, that they might pursue us? Perhaps it would be more\nprudent to extinguish our fire.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Does not my brother hear the howling of the wolves? If he prefers\nbeing devoured by them to receiving the arrow of an Iroquois, he can\nextinguish it.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe words of our guide were not very reassuring, but I was so overcome\nwith fatigue that, in spite of the evident danger to which we were\nexposed, I fell asleep. But my sleep was filled with the wildest\ndreams. The dark shadow of our guide, that I saw as I went to sleep,\nseemed to lengthen and rise behind him, black and threatening, like\na spectre. The dead in the cemetery, shaking the snow from their\nshrouds of bark, descended from their sepulchres, and bent towards\nme. I fancied I heard the gritting of their teeth as the wind rushed\nthrough the trees and the dry branches cracked and snapped. I awoke\nwith a start. Our guide, leaning against a post of one of the graves,\nwas still before me, and from his heavy and regular breathing I knew\nthat he slept profoundly. I fancied I saw just above him, peeping over\nthe grave against which he was leaning, a dark form and two fixed\nand flaming eyes. My imagination is excited by my fantastic dreams,\nthought I, and tried to compose myself to sleep again. I remained a\nlong time with my eyes half shut, in that state of semi-somnolence,\nhalf watching, half sleeping, my stupefied faculties scarcely able to\ndiscern the objects around. And yet the dark shadow seemed to move\nslightly, and to lean more and more towards our savage, who was still\nin a deep sleep. At that moment the fire suddenly blazed up, and I saw\ndistinctly the figure of an Indian. He held a long knife between his\nteeth, and, with dilated eyes fixed on his enemy, he approached still\nnearer to assure himself that he slept. Then a diabolical smile lit up\nhis face, and, seizing his knife, he brandished it an instant in aiming\na blow at the heart of his victim. The blade flashed in the firelight.\nAt the same moment a terrible cry rang out, and the two savages rolled\ntogether in the snow. The flash of the steel, in awakening our guide,\nhad also betrayed his enemy. Thus my horrible nightmare terminated in a\nmore horrible reality. I had hastily seized my gun, but dared not fire,\nlest I should kill or wound our guide. It was a death-fight between\nthem. The snow, streaked with blood, blew up around them like a cloud\nof dust. A hatchet glittered in the air, then a dull, heavy sound,\nfollowed by the cracking of bones. The victory was decided. A gurgling\nsound escaped from the victim\u2014it was the death-rattle! Holding in\none hand a bloody scalp, the conqueror, with a smile, raised himself\nproudly. At that instant a shot was heard. A ball struck him in the\nbreast, and our savage, for it was he, fell dead in front of the fire.\nTaking aim with my gun, and sending a ball in the direction whence\nthe shot had come, and where I saw another shadow gliding among the\ntrees, was for me the work of an instant. The Indian, with a terrible\ndeath-cry, described an arch in the air with his body, and fell dead to\nthe ground. The tragedy was finished; our savage was avenged, but we\nhad no longer a guide. I then thought of our conversation that evening,\nand how his apprehensions of the two savages whom we had tracked in the\nmorning had been so fearfully realized.\u201d\n\n\nV.\u2014DEATH.\n\n\u201cAbandoned, without a guide, in the midst of interminable forests, we\nwere in a state of extreme perplexity. We hesitated a long time whether\nto proceed on our route or retrace our steps. The danger of falling\ninto the hands of the Iroquois, who infested that part of the country,\ndecided us to continue our journey.\n\n\u201cThe only means left of finding our way was a little compass which my\nfather had fortunately brought along. Several days later found us still\non our painful march, in the midst of a violent snowstorm. It was a\nveritable tempest; the snow fell so thick and fast we could scarcely\nsee two feet in advance.\n\n\u201cIn every direction we heard the trees splitting and falling to the\nground. We were in great danger of being crushed. My father was struck\nby a branch, which completely buried him under the snow, and we had\ngreat difficulty in extricating him. When we raised him up, he found\nthat the chain around his neck which held the compass was broken, and\nthe compass had disappeared. We searched long and carefully, but in\nvain\u2014it could not be found. In falling, my father received a severe\ninjury on the head. While dressing the wound, which bled freely, I\ncould not restrain my tears on seeing this old man, with his white\nhair, enduring intense suffering with so much fortitude, and displaying\nsuch calmness in the midst of an agony which he tried to conceal from\nme by an outward show of confidence. \u2018My son,\u2019 said he, when he saw my\ntears, \u2018remember that you are a soldier. If death comes, it will find\nus on the roll of honor. It is well to die a martyr to duty; besides,\nnothing happens except by the will of God. Let us submit at once with\ncourage and resignation to whatever he pleases to send.\u2019\n\n\u201cWe marched two days longer in an intense cold, and then my father\ncould go no further. The cold had poisoned the wound in his head, and\na violent fever came on. To crown our misfortunes, our little store of\nmatches had become damp, and it was impossible to kindle a fire. Then\nall hope abandoned me, and, not having been able to kill any game for\nthe past day or two, we had been almost entirely without food; then,\nin spite of all my warning and advice, the soldier who accompanied us,\nexhausted by fatigue and hunger, and utterly discouraged, went to sleep\nin the snow, and, when I found him some time after, he was dead\u2014frozen\nstiff! Overcome by the most inexpressible grief, I remained on my knees\nby the side of my dying father. Several times he besought me to abandon\nhim, and escape death. When he felt his last hour approaching, he said,\nhanding me an _Imitation of Christ_ which he held in his hand, \u2018My son,\nread to me.\u2019 I took the book, and opened it at chance, reading between\nmy sobs: \u2018Make now friends near God, in order that, after leaving this\nlife, they will receive you in the eternal tabernacles.\u2019[41] \u2018Conduct\nyourself on earth as a traveller and a stranger who has no interest in\nthe affairs of the world. Keep your heart free and raised toward God,\nbecause here below you have no substantial dwelling-place. You should\naddress to heaven every day your prayers, your sighs, and your tears,\nin order that, after this life, your soul will be able to pass happily\ninto the bosom of our Lord.\u2019\n\n\u201cI replaced the book in his hand. A smile of immortal hope passed over\nhis countenance, for these lines were a _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of his entire life.\nAfter a moment\u2019s silence, he said: \u2018My son, when I shall be no more,\ntake this little gold cross which hangs around my neck, and which was\ngiven to me by your mother on the day of your birth\u2019\u2014there was a\nmoment\u2019s silence. A shade of profound sadness passed over his face,\nand, taking my two hands in his, he added, \u2018Your poor mother!\u2014oh! if\nyou live to see her again, tell her I died thinking of God and of her.\u2019\nThen, making a supreme effort to put aside this painful thought, at\nwhich he feared his courage might fail him, he continued: \u2018Always wear\nthis little cross in remembrance of your father. It will teach you to\nbe faithful to your God, and to your country. Come nearer, my son, that\nI may bless you, for I feel that I am dying.\u2019 And with his faltering\nhand he made the sign of the cross on my forehead.\u201d\n\nAt these words the young man stopped. Large tears rolled down his\ncheeks as he pressed to his lips the little gold cross which hung on\nhis breast. All around him remained silent, in respect to his noble\ngrief, but their tears flowed with his. Sorrow is so touching in youth!\nWe cannot see, without a pang, the bright flowers which adorn it wither\nand fade away. The missionary was the first to break the silence. \u201cMy\nson,\u201d said he, addressing the young man, \u201cyour tears are legitimate,\nfor the cherished being for whom you weep is worthy of them; but do not\nweep as those who have no hope. He whom you have lost now enjoys on\nhigh the recompense promised to a life devoted to sacrifice and duty.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, oh! my father, if only you could have been with him to console\nhis last moments!\u201d\n\nAfter a pause, he continued: \u201cI pressed my father for the last time\nin my arms, and imprinted a last kiss on his pale, cold forehead. I\nthought at this moment he was dying. He remained immovable, his eyes\nturned towards heaven, when suddenly, as if by inspiration from above,\nhe said, \u2018I wish you to make a vow that, if you succeed in escaping\nwith your life, you will place a picture in the first church which you\nreach on the road.\u2019 I promised to do as he desired. Some moments after,\na few vague and incoherent words escaped his lips, and all was over.\u201d\n\n\nVI.\u2014THE VISION.\n\n\u201cHow long I remained on my knees beside my father\u2019s corpse I cannot\ntell. I was so utterly overwhelmed by grief and sorrow that I was\nplunged in a kind of lethargy which rendered my soul insensible to\neverything. Death, the loneliness of the forest, terrified me no\nlonger; for solitude dwelt in my heart, where so short a time before\nall was bright and joyous. Dreams, illusions\u2014those flowers of life\nthat I have seen fall leaf by leaf, to be swept away by the storm;\nglory, happiness, the future\u2014those angels of the heart who so lately\nentranced my soul with their mysterious music, had all departed,\nveiling with their drooping wings their sorrowful faces. All had\ngone\u2014all. Nothing remained but a void, a horrible nothingness. But\none feeble star watched yet in the midst of my night. The faint lamp\nof the inner sanctuary was not entirely extinguished; there came a ray\nfrom its expiring flame. Remembering the vow that my dying father had\ndesired me to make, I invoked with a sort of desperation the Blessed\nVirgin, Comfortress of the Afflicted; and behold, suddenly\u2014but can\nI tell what took place within me? Human words are inadequate to\nunveil the mysteries of God. I cannot explain, human ears cannot\ncomprehend\u2014yes, suddenly, in the midst of my darkness, my soul\ntrembled, and a something seemed to pass through me like an impetuous\nwind, and my soul was carried over the troubled waters; then, rapid as\nthe lightning that flashes through the storm-cloud, a light appeared\nin the darkness, in this chaos\u2014a dazzling, superhuman light\u2014and the\ntempest was appeased within me; a wondrous calm had entered my soul,\nand the divine light penetrated its most remote recesses and imparted\na delicious tranquillity and peace, but such a peace as surpasses\nall comprehension; and through my closed eyelids I saw that a great\nlight was before me. O my God! dare I tell what happened then? Would\nit not be profane to weaken thus the marvels of your power! I felt\nthat something extraordinary, something supernatural, was taking place\naround me, and a mysterious emotion, a holy terror, that every mortal\nshould feel at the approach of a Divine Being seized me. Like Moses,\nmy soul said within me, \u2018I will go and I will see this grand vision\u2019;\nand my eyes opened, and I saw\u2014it was not a dream\u2014it was a reality, a\nmiracle, from the right hand of the Most High. No; the eye of man has\nnever seen, nor his ear heard, what was permitted that I should see\nand hear then. In the midst of a cloud of dazzling light, the Queen of\nheaven appeared, holding in her arms the divine Child. The ineffable\nsplendor that enveloped her form was so brilliant that in comparison\nthe sun is only a dim star; but this brilliancy, far from fatiguing\nthe sight, refreshed it deliciously. Twelve stars formed her crown,\nthe colors of the rainbow tinged her robes, while under her feet were\nclouds which reflected the colors of aurora and the setting sun, and\nbehind their golden fringing myriads of angels were smiling and singing\nhymns which have no echo here below. And what I saw and heard was so\nreal that all that I had heard and seen heretofore seemed like a vague,\ndark dream of night. The divine Virgin looked at me with an immortal\nsmile, which was reflected no doubt from the lips of her divine Child\non the day of his birth.\n\n\u201cShe said to me: \u2018Here I am, my son. I come because you called me. The\nhelp that I sent you is very near. Remember, my son\u2014\u2019 But, oh! what\nwas I going to say! I am only permitted to reveal a few words of this\ncelestial conversation, which relate to my deliverance. The rest is a\nsecret between God and myself\u2014sufficient to say these words have fixed\nmy destiny.\n\n\u201cFor a long time she spoke to me, and my soul, ravished, absorbed,\ntransfigured, listened in unspeakable ecstasy to the divine harmony of\nher voice. It will vibrate eternally in my soul, and the torrents of\ntears that poured from my eyes were as refreshing as dear to my heart.\nAt last the mysterious vision gradually vanished. Clouds, figures,\nangels, light, all had disappeared, and yet my soul invoked the\ncelestial vision by ineffable sighs and moans.\n\n\u201cWhen at last I turned round, the help which had been miraculously\npromised to me had arrived. \u2018Twas then, reverend father, that I\nperceived you near me. You know the rest.\u201d\n\nThe next day there was great excitement among the little population\nof the neighborhood. The news of the miracle had spread rapidly, and\na pious and devout crowd had gathered in the modest little church\nto assist at a solemn Mass celebrated by the holy missionary. More\nthan one pitying look was turned during the ceremony toward the young\nofficer, who knelt near the sanctuary, praying with an angelic fervor.\n\nIt is said that some time after, in another country, far, far beyond\nthe sea, a young officer who had miraculously escaped death abandoned a\nbrilliant future, and consecrated himself to God in a cloister. Was it\nhe? No one has ever known positively.\n\nIf ever you pass by the old church of the Rivi\u00e8re Ouelle, don\u2019t forget\nto stop a moment. You will see hanging in one of the side-chapels the\nantique _ex-voto_ which recalls the souvenir of this miraculous event.\nThe picture has no intrinsic value; but it is an old, old relic, that\none loves to see, for it tells a thrilling story. Often travellers who\ncome from distant lands stop before this dusty old picture, struck by\nthe strange scene it represents. Oftentimes pious mothers stand before\nit with their little ones, and relate to them the wondrous legend; for\nthe souvenir of this thrilling story is still vivid throughout the\ncountry.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RECORDS OF A RUIN.\n\n\nTHE Palais Royal derives its chief historical interest from its\nassociation with the memory of Cardinal Richelieu. When it first\nattracted his notice by its situation, at once delightful and\nconvenient, surrounded by richly planted gardens, and close to the\nLouvre and the then fashionable thoroughfare of the city, it was the\nproperty and residence of the Marquis d\u2019Estr\u00e9e. From this nobleman\nRichelieu purchased it in 1624. Soon, however, the elegant mansion,\nwhich had been abundantly spacious for the lords of d\u2019Estr\u00e9e with their\ninnumerable retainers and long corteges of valets of every degree in\nthe lengthy domestic hierarchy of those days, became too small for the\ngrowing importance of Louis XIII.\u2019s magnificent minister.\n\nRichelieu fell a conquest to the building and decorating mania\nprevalent at that period amongst princes and princely prelates; he\nthrew down the walls of the H\u00f4tel d\u2019Estr\u00e9e at the north end, pushed\nthe house into the gardens, drove the gardens further out into the\nopen space beyond, and pierced a way through into the street which was\nhenceforth to be honored by bearing his name. Philippe of Champagne\nwas invited to paint the ceilings and decorate the walls of the\nstupendous eminence whose cipher gleamed over all the doors, sometimes\nengrained in gold letters upon marble, sometimes curiously interlaced\nwith emblematic figures, or emblazoned in the Richelieu arms. When all\nwas complete, it was necessary to rechristen the dwelling which had\nbeen so enlarged and renovated as to be virtually a new edifice\u2014the\nmansion which had been metamorphosed into a palace. After much serious\nconsultation, and many times changing his mind, Richelieu decided that\nit should be called Palais Cardinal. A slab bearing these two words\nin large gold letters was accordingly placed over the gates of the\n_ci-devant_ H\u00f4tel d\u2019Estr\u00e9e. The next morning all Paris beheld it, and\nburst out laughing. The _beaux-esprits_ of the sarcastic capital, with\nBalzac at their head, rushed in a body to the square in front of the\nnew palace, and woke the echoes of the sleeping aristocratic gardens\nwith their uproarious mirth; there they stood, armed with grammars,\nlexicons of divers tongues, and pens and portfolios, discussing with\nmuch solemnity the two inoffensive nouns on the marble slab; every\nnow and then a wag from the crowd raising shouts of laughter by some\nludicrous explanation of his own. Presently the gates were swung apart,\nand out drove the cardinal, and beheld the spectacle, so eminently\ngratifying to his sensitive pride, of \u201call Paris laughing at him.\u201d\n\nThe scoffers gathered round his equipage, books and pen in hand,\nimploring him to enlighten their ignorance from the depths of his\nunfathomable erudition; how were they to parse the name of his\neminence\u2019s house? _Palais_ and _Cardinal_\u2014it was most perplexing to\ntheir weak intelligence. The conjunction was a turning upside down of\nall established rules\u2014a topsy-turvy of principles and of all known\nprecedents.\n\nSeparately, the two nouns were comprehensible, but joined together,\nwhat were they? Was it, mayhap, Greek or Latin construction, or was it\ntaken from the legends of old Gaul French, or a specimen of some new\nand unknown tongue evolved from the universal genius of the minister?\nRichelieu, writhing under the pitiless hilarity of the tormentors,\nlent a deaf ear to them, and rode forth in scornful taciturnity;\npetitions from imaginary savants, who professed to be laboring in\nthe mazes of a new grammar, flowed in the following days upon the\nunlucky author of the ungrammatical inscription, beseeching him to\nlet the ignorant world into the secret of its proper parsing; the\nenemies of the cardinal, in fact, made capital out of his vanity to\ntheir heart\u2019s content, but Richelieu\u2019s pride was a match for them. The\nonly answer he condescended to make was to point to the inscription\nover the H\u00f4tel Dieu. The precedent was no doubt unanswerable; but\nvanity remained, nevertheless, more prominent in the imitation than\neither sense or grammar. It held its place, however, in spite of all\nattempts to laugh it down. The splendors of the Palais Cardinal have\nbeen enlarged upon in most of the memoirs and chronicles of that time.\nRichelieu, while busy making and mending quarrels between the king and\nthe queen-mother, Marie de Medicis, governing France, and pulling the\nstrings of all the governments of Europe, found time to devote to his\nhobby of enriching and beautifying his palace, overseeing in its most\nminute details the architectural part of the work, and directing the\nresearch after objects of art far and near for its adornment. While\nhe was thus variously occupied, a knot of literary men were in the\nhabit of meeting quietly once a week close to his palace gates, to\nread aloud their own works, and discuss the state of letters, whose\nhorizon was just then beginning to brighten under the rising sun of\nthe great Corneille. The meetings were held at the house of one of the\ncircle; they were quite unostentatious, and aspired to no notoriety\nbeyond their own circle; the members sought only to encourage each\nother by honest criticism, and by the emulation that comes of working\nin common towards a common end. Soon, however, these weekly gatherings\nbecame talked about; courtiers heard of them, and begged to be allowed\nto assist at them. By-and-by Richelieu came to hear of them; his\ncuriosity was excited, first from a political point of view\u2014he feared\nthe so-called _r\u00e9unions litt\u00e9raires_ might be a covert for something\nmore dangerous; he was not slow, however, to find out his mistake,\nand to detect in the modest literary club a germ of future greatness;\nhe expressed his desire that the meetings should be held henceforth\nat the Palais Cardinal, and under his immediate auspices. The members\nprotested; they were not worthy of so distinguished an honor, etc.;\nbut Richelieu assured them that he saw in their modest labors the\npromised fulfilment of his long-cherished desire \u201cto raise the French\nlanguage from the ranks of barbarous tongues, and to cleanse it from\nthe impurities which it had contracted in the mouth of the people\nand on the lips of courtiers.\u201d The little band of writers yielded\nreluctantly to the pompous summons so flatteringly sent forth against\ntheir independence, and the Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise was founded. Louis XIII.\ngave it letters-patent, and became its chief patron, while Richelieu\nwas named President. The number of academicians was limited to forty.\nAmongst the great and gifted men who figure at the birth of this modern\nAreopagus, destined to be glorified in its after-career by so many\nbrilliant members, Pierre Corneille stands out conspicuous. The young\npoet found in Richelieu a kind and munificent patron, until he had the\nill-luck to wound his vanity in one of its most vulnerable points. Not\ncontent with being a potentate, a warrior, a financier, and innumerable\nother things besides, the insatiable cardinal aspired to being a\npoet\u2014a disastrous form of ambition which gave a cruel handle to his\nenemies, and furnished them with many a shaft of ridicule wherewith\nto pierce his thin-skinned susceptibilities. Richelieu, however,\npursued his way in serene self-confidence, despising the ignorance\nand jealousy of the vulgar herd, and periodically bringing forth the\noffspring of his genius in the shape of plays and poems. One set of\nverses with which he was particularly satisfied he handed in MS. to\nCorneille, desiring to secure his approval before launching them on\nthe sea of public criticism, and modestly requesting the young poet\nto overlook them and make any alteration that he thought advisable.\nCorneille had not graduated long enough in the school of courtiers to\nknow what this flattering request was worth, so he set about complying\nwith it conscientiously, pruning and altering with his fine critical\npen as it ran along the course of the ministerial poem. Richelieu\u2019s\namazement on beholding his masterpiece thus audaciously overhauled was\nonly equalled by his indignation. Corneille, instead of falling on his\nknees and crying _peccavi_ when he saw his mistake, proceeded with\ninfantine _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ to argue the case with the wrathful poet, and prove\nto him that every correction had been called for by some glaring fault.\nThis did not mend matters. Such insane honesty met with the fate it\ndeserved\u2014the fate that from time immemorial it has met with in similar\ncircumstances. The scene between Gil Blas and the bishop was enacted\nin the library of the Palais Cardinal between Corneille and Richelieu,\nand certainly Gil Bias was not more astonished by the effect of his\ncandid criticism on the bishop\u2019s long-winded sermon than was the young\nacademician by the thunderbolt which fell from his patron\u2019s brow on\nperusing his MS. revised and corrected. He was dismissed peremptorily,\nand withdrew cursing his own stupidity, and vowing that never again\nwould he be entrapped into the folly of believing in the common sense\nof a patron. Shortly after this mishap, while wandering about in\nlistless pursuit of an object at Rouen, his native place, he fell in\naccidentally with a gentleman who had read his first poetic efforts,\nand discerned through their faults and trammels the promise of true\ngenius that lay beneath. \u201cWhy do you waste and hamper your talent in\nthe threadbare conventionalities of French art?\u201d inquired M. de Chalan.\n\u201cYou want a higher and a wider scope; read Guillen de Castro, and there\nyou will find a subject worthy of you, and which will bring out your\npowers with a fire and force unsuspected by yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnfortunately, I am not acquainted with Spanish,\u201d replied the young\nman.\n\n\u201cBut I am,\u201d returned M. de Chalan, \u201cand, if you like, I will teach it\nto you.\u201d\n\nCorneille, having nothing else to do, accepted the proposal, and to\nthis chance circumstance the world apparently owes _The Cid_. That\nmasterly composition came upon the dramatic world of France\u2014hitherto\nfed on threadbare conventionalities, as de Chalan had well said\u2014like\na revelation, and raised such a tempest of senseless vituperation and\nmalignant opposition as has no parallel in the history of literary\ncyclones. Richelieu, who was far too good a judge not to see the rare\nmerits of the poem, had not the magnanimity to proclaim his opinion,\nand thus quell the storm, but fell in with the rioters, and was one\nof the loudest in crying down the new tragedy. He could not forgive\nthe young poet who, without his patronage, nay, in spite of his own\ndisgrace, had succeeded in climbing to the topmost round of the ladder.\nCorneille\u2019s star rose steady and clear above the stormy waters, and he\nlived to see it shine out in glorious lustre through the clouds of envy\nand hostile criticism. His career was one of unparalleled triumph, till\nthe appearance of his last work, _Pertharite_, written in 1653. It was\nplayed on the boards of the Palais Cardinal theatre, that had echoed to\nso many of his previous triumphs, and was received with a coldness that\nwas equivalent to condemnation. Corneille saw in this isolated defeat\nthe ruin of his poetic fame; he became possessed by a morbid despair,\nflung away his lyre, and gave up the theatre in disgust. During the\ninterval of depression that followed this fancied humiliation, he\ndevoted himself to the translation of Thomas \u00e0 Kempis\u2019 _The Imitation\nof Christ_, sacrificing, as he said himself, \u201chis own reputation to the\nglory of a sovereign author.\u201d\n\nThe Palais Cardinal, during Richelieu\u2019s multifarious reign, was the\ntheatre of many boisterous scenes, dark intrigues, and events otherwise\nimportant than these literary skirmishes that occasionally engage\nthe thoughts of ambitious statesmen. Its propinquity to the Louvre\nenabled him to keep his lynx eyes on the busy hive of friends, foes,\nand tools who gathered round the king; to frustrate the petty plots\nof courtiers; and forestall the schemes of faction by his ubiquitous\npresence. Nor are comic chapters lacking in the annals of the Palais\nCardinal at this period. One related by the sprightly Duchesse de\nChevreuse, in a letter to Mme. de Motteville, is grotesque enough to\nbe worth recording, as characteristic of the cardinal and the court.\nRichelieu, it was said, had dared to raise his eyes to the queen, then\nin the full bloom of her youth and beauty. As might be expected, the\nunwarrantable presumption inspired Anne of Austria with no gentler\nfeeling than contempt, not unmixed with disgust. She gathered up her\npurple robes, as she might have done at the touch of a viper, and\nshook them, and passed on with a shudder and a shrug. But her volatile\nfriend, Mme. de Chevreuse, whose _r\u00f4le_ was fun at any price, thought\nthe cardinal\u2019s love too good a joke not to be turned to account. She\nproposed playing him a trick which would have the double advantage\nof giving herself and her royal mistress an hour\u2019s good fun, and of\nmaking Richelieu, whom she hated with a woman\u2019s inventive hate, appear\nthoroughly ridiculous. \u201cLet me tell him from myself,\u201d she entreated,\n\u201cthat your majesty is only inexorable because you do not believe in\nthe sincerity of his love; but that, if he can give you proof of it,\nyou are open to conviction. I will propose that he come here by the\nprivate way, dressed as a harlequin, and dance the saraband before\nyou one of these evenings, assuring him, if he does this, you will\nbelieve in the reality of his protestations.\u201d Anne was young, her life\nhad not much sunshine in its splendor, and the demon of frolic which\nso madly possessed her friend was not without its power over her.\nShe consented that the outrageous joke should be played off on her\ngloomy swain. The duchess accordingly informed him that the queen was\npassionately fond of the saraband, and had often expressed a desire\nto see it danced by one whose dignified deportment and elastic figure\nwere so admirably adapted to bring out the peculiar characteristics\nof the spirited and stately dance, and that nothing would gratify and\nflatter her more than to see his eminence yield to this fancy. It was\nnecessary, she added, that he should be dressed as a harlequin, in\norder to bring out in all their perfection the picturesque points of\nthe dance. Richelieu bit at this outlandish bait, and it was agreed\non a given night he would roam to the Louvre, and disport himself in\nthe aforesaid manner for the edification of the queen, he being alone\nin one room, while her majesty looked on at the performance from\nbehind a screen in an adjoining one; a musician, concealed also from\nview, was to accompany the performance on the violin. The duchess,\nwho had not bargained for her own share in the sport, took care not\nto be deprived of it, but stood beside the queen, peeping through\nthe screen, while the haughty statesman, bedizened in the variegated\ncostume of harlequin, \u201cwith bells on his fingers, and bells on his\ntoes,\u201d and jingling from his comical fool\u2019s cap, tripped it on the\nlight fantastic toe. Mme. de Chevreuse describes the scene with the\nmischievous glee of a schoolboy: herself and the queen squeezing each\nother\u2019s hands, and terrified lest one explosive burst should betray\nthem and suddenly cut short the performance; the musician convulsed in\nanother corner, scratching away frantically at his fiddle to drown the\nirrepressible laughter of the trio; while Richelieu, the proud, the\ngrave, the vindictive and all-powerful Richelieu, capered backwards\nand forwards on the polished floor, snapping his fingers at each rapid\n_pirouette_, stamping his heel and pointing his toe as the figures of\nthe saraband demanded. The performance over, he donned his cloak, and\nmade his way back discreetly to the Palais Cardinal. No time was lost\nin recapitulating the farce to the court, and the merriment that it\nprovoked may be readily imagined. But who might laugh with impunity\nat Richelieu? The true motive of the unseemly burlesque to which he\nhad lent himself was soon made known to the hero, and terrible was the\nvengeance that awaited its authors. He bided awhile, and then began\nthat series of calumnies and persecutions that poisoned so many years\nof the young queen\u2019s life. Richelieu had insinuated himself into the\nconfidence of Louis XIII., and his influence over him was boundless.\nThis tremendous weapon he used against the queen with cruel ingenuity.\nHe contrived to implicate her in the odious and diabolical conspiracy\nof the arch-traitor de Chalais; accused her of having plotted to\ndethrone and murder the king, with a view to putting Gaston d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans,\nhis brother, on the throne, and marrying him. When Louis XIII. brutally\nchallenged his wife to vindicate herself from the twofold criminal\ncharge, she replied, with _spirituelle_ disdain: \u201cI had too little\nto gain by the exchange.\u201d It is more than probable that Louis never\nseriously suspected Anne of Austria of having had any share in the\nguilt laid to her charge by Richelieu; but the calumny did its work\nefficiently in another way: it cut at the root of her affection for\nher husband and of his trust in her\u2014it chilled and alienated them for\nyears. The Duchesse de Chevreuse, accused, with some show of truth, of\nhaving conspired with Gaston d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans to dethrone the king, was exiled\nfrom France. Richelieu followed up the advantage of his first attack by\naccusing the queen of keeping up a correspondence with the enemies of\nthe state. Anne, too proud to justify herself, imprudently paraded her\ncontempt for Richelieu\u2019s malevolent intrigues by openly and on every\noccasion showing her love for her own family, at that time at war with\nFrance; expressions full of the warmth of natural affection were made\na handle of by her enemies, construed into treason against the king\nand the state. The birth of Louis XIV. (1638) brought about a partial\nreconciliation between her and the husband who had insulted and treated\nher with systematic neglect. But Richelieu\u2019s sway remained unshaken to\nthe end. It was entirely an intellectual sway; the heart had no share\nin it on either side. The minister hated the king, and the king hated\nthe minister; their natures were essentially antagonistic, and mutual\ninterest alone held them together. Louis, hearing that he was about to\nbe freed from the bondage under which he had chafed so long\u2014that the\nsummons had come for Richelieu\u2014went in haste to the Palais Cardinal to\nreceive the adieux of the dying minister. The interview between them\nwas short and utterly devoid of pathos; no shade of tenderness had\nentered into the bond that was about to be dissolved. The breaking up\nof it was simply a matter of business. The king left the death-chamber\nof the man to whom he owed all the glory of his reign, without a tear\nin his eye or a passing emotion in his heart, and paced the adjoining\nroom with a steady step and satisfied air, while a smile, amounting\nat intervals to a suppressed laugh, was visible on his features. When\nall was over, and the signal came forth that Richelieu was no more, he\nexclaimed tranquilly: \u201c_Voil\u00e0 un grand politique de mort!_\u201d[42] (1642.)\nA few months later, he himself had joined the great politician in\nanother world.\n\nRichelieu, whose more than royal munificence of state had roused the\njealous susceptibilities of the king, atoned for it by bequeathing his\nbeautiful palace, with its accumulated treasures of art and industry,\nto his unthankful master. Anne of Austria inaugurated her reign as\nregent by taking up her abode under the roof of the man who had been to\nthe last day of his life her implacable enemy. Immediately after the\ndeath of Louis XIII., she came to the Palais Cardinal with the little\nking and his brother, the Duc d\u2019Anjou. The theatre on which Richelieu\nhad lavished so much taste and wealth was included in the bequest,\nthough he had often expressed his intention of presenting it to the\nnation, and endowing it for the benefit of rising dramatic artists.\n\nNotwithstanding that Anne of Austria had good reason to execrate the\ncardinal for his injustice and malignity to herself personally, she did\nfull honor to his merits as a statesman; and years after his death,\nwhen at the zenith of her popularity as regent, she said once, looking\nup at a portrait of Richelieu which hung in the state-saloon of the\nPalais Cardinal: \u201cWere that man alive now, he would be more powerful\nthan ever.\u201d It was a generous and exhaustive tribute to the memory of\nthose services which had consolidated the monarchy in France, and made\nher own position what it was.\n\nThe name of Palais Cardinal, which, despite its equivocal grammar, was\nappropriate while Richelieu inhabited it, ceased to be so when it\npassed into the possession of the crown. Anne was advised to change it,\nbut refused to do so, at the solicitation of the Duchesse d\u2019Aiguillon,\nwho besought her to retain a name which so honorably associated\nRichelieu with the glorious reign of Louis XIII. Public opinion,\nhowever, prevailed before long, and the palace was henceforth by common\nconsent designated as the Palais Royal. With its new name began a new\nera in its annals.\n\nAnne has been compared by some of her admirers and biographers to\nBlanche of Castille; but, while rendering full justice to the queenly\nqualities of the Austro-Spanish regent, we own that the comparison\nstrikes us as being suggested rather by their circumstances than by\nthe characters of the two queen-mothers who each played so remarkable\na part in the history of their epochs. Blanche of Castille made it\nher first and paramount ambition to render her son worthy of that\nimperishable crown which awaited him in the Kingdom that is not of\nthis world: Anne of Austria aimed at securing for hers the supremacy\nof earthly glory\u2014at making him a great and powerful king. In each\ncase, as it mostly happens, the omnipotent mother\u2019s will worked out\nits own ideal. The minority of the future Grand Monarque opened in\ntroubled times; the elements of the Fronde were fermenting deep down\nunder the apparently smooth surface, and the _f\u00eates_, and masquerades,\nand merry-making with which the regent celebrated her tardy accession\nto sovereign power were soon followed by more exciting events. Mazarin\nhad succeeded to Richelieu\u2014oily, pliant Mazarin, so zealous in his\nendeavors to keep well with all parties; flattering the ambitious\nhopes of Gaston d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans, and laying himself out with elaborate zeal\nto please the regent and secure her confidence; yielding outwardly,\nwith alluring grace, to every caprice of her soft despotic sway; and\npulling dexterously the complicated strings of the malcontents, Cond\u00e9,\nand Conti, and Longueville, and many other illustrious personages who\nchafed uneasily under the sceptre of the foreigner; benevolent and\noutspoken, but irreclaimably despotic. Mazarin, in his desire to please\nall parties whom it was of use to propitiate, and make money plentiful\nwhere it was needed for his purposes, had gone on taxing till he raised\nthe devil in the _then_ much enduring people. Everything was ready for\nan outbreak. The _Te Deum_ after the victory of Lens gave the signal\nfor it. It was a burning day in August, in the year 1648. The city\nhad turned out to join in the jubilee, and, amidst the inspiriting\nchorus of trumpets, and cannons, and bells that sent exulting chimes\nfrom many belfries, such small matters as hunger and empty hearths and\nmisery in its multiform moods and tenses were forgotten for a moment.\nBut it needed only a touch to rouse the sleeping furies in the hearts\nof the hungry, rejoicing crowd. Broussel was seized by the troops, who\nhad just played their part in the gay thanksgiving, and carried off\nto prison\u2014Broussel, the venerable magistrate, the people\u2019s sturdy\nfriend; who had fought their battles over and over again against mighty\nMazarin himself; who had stood by them and upheld their rights in the\nteeth of the foreign queen and her foreign minister; Broussel, whom\nthe people called _notre p\u00e8re_\u2014were they going to see him seized by\nsoldiers, and carried off before their eyes? No; they would stand by\nhim as he had stood by them. The last notes of the _Te Deum_ were\nstill ringing over the city, when up leaped the shouts of revolution\nand the cry \u201cTo arms!\u201d and chased away their holy echoes. The mob\nsurrounded the carriage in which Broussel was placed, guarded on all\nsides by armed men; they were beaten back and trodden down; the people\nreturned to the charge undaunted, and finally bore down on the Palais\nRoyal, vociferating unmannerly threats, and demanding Broussel: \u201cGive\nus Broussel, or we will burn down your house about you!\u201d\u2014pleasant\nsounds for the queen to hear beneath her windows! Anne of Austria\nhad not foreseen this bursting up of the vulgar depths over which\nshe had hitherto ridden in safe and scornful unconcern; nor, in all\nprobability, had Mazarin. He was with the queen in that sumptuous\napartment called the queen\u2019s boudoir, whose one broad window, mounted\nin a frame of massive silver wrought like a brooch, looked out upon\nthe court; the regent paced the room in feverish excitement, her face\nflushed, her hands, alternately crossed on her breast with an air of\nstern resolve, moving in the animated and expressive play that was\nfamiliar to her; every now and then she would stand in the embrasure\nof the rich and cunningly carved window, and cast a glance of mingled\nscorn and defiance on the vociferous rabble below. They catch sight\nof her, and greet her with ominous signs and gestures. They see in\nher cool courage a taunt that rouses them to desperation. All unarmed\nas they are, except with stones and sticks and such like unmilitary\nweapons, they are ready to give battle to her troops. At this crisis,\nwhen the Fronde was born, a young man named Gondi starts to the\nsurface, shooting up from the dark horizon like a glittering rocket.\nHe is endowed with that peculiar kind of alcoholic eloquence which\nappears to be in all climes and ages the apanage of demagogues. Gondi\nhad already made himself conspicuous as a discontented spirit whom it\nwould be well either to crush or to conciliate; and Mazarin would in\nall likelihood have adopted the latter plan but for the fact of his\njealousy having been aroused by the queen\u2019s kindly notice of the young\nfirebrand; he foresaw a possible rival in Gondi\u2019s ardor and talents,\nand forthwith decreed his ruin. Gondi was just now making himself\npopular by declaiming on the wrongs of the people, and denouncing the\nseizure of Broussel as iniquitous and tyrannical. There was some talk\nof sending a despatch to the regent to demand his release; Mazarin\ncaught at this opportunity of lowering Gondi in the estimation of the\nqueen by placing him in the position of a leader of the Fronde, so he\nsent word to him indirectly to come to the Palais Royal and present\nthe people\u2019s petition. Gondi, who saw in the mission an occasion\nfor distinguishing himself with all parties, accepted it. He told\nthe people that he undertook to ask, and pledged himself to obtain,\nthe liberation of Broussel within an hour. They followed him with\nenthusiastic cheers to the Palais Royal, where he was admitted to the\npresence of the queen. She received him with flattering promptitude,\nunconscious of the motive of his visit. Anne was in no mood for\ncompromises or concessions; the rebellious attitude of her subjects had\nsteeled her heart for the moment against the demands of clemency, and\nwhen Gondi, announcing himself the bearer of the demands of the people,\nasked for the liberation of the magistrate, her anger broke out into\nviolence: \u201cGive up Broussel!\u201d she cried, with a sardonic laugh, \u201cI will\nstrangle him first with my own hands!\u201d And clenching those beautiful\nlittle hands that have been sung by every poet of her day, she went\nclose up to Gondi, and shook them in his face. The deputy, confounded,\nstood rooted to the spot, and uttered not a word; when Anne, abruptly\nturning away, said, with a quiet sarcasm the more chilling from its\nsudden contrast with her foregoing vehemence: \u201cGo and rest, Monsieur de\nGondi; you have worked hard.\u201d\n\nHe left her presence, and carried his perplexity to Mazarin. But\nMazarin, who had led him into the dilemma of playing false to the\npeople and vexing the queen, coldly declined interfering, and bowed\nthe unsuccessful diplomatist out. Gondi, betrayed and baffled, left\nthe Palais Royal with an oath that the morrow would see him master\nof Paris. When a lad of eighteen, he had written an essay on the\n_Conjuration de Fiesque_, which drew from Richelieu the remark: \u201c_Voil\u00e0\nun esprit dangereux._\u201d[43] The day had come when the fiery young\nauthor was to fulfil this sagacious prophecy. The future Cardinal\nde Retz had entered the Palais Royal an ambitious courtier: he left\nit an infuriated _frondeur_. The next day Paris was bristling with\nbarricades\u2014its traditional mode of expressing its irritated feelings.\n\nThis day, famous as _la journ\u00e9e des barricades_, saw Mathieu Mol\u00e9\nappear in one of the finest attitudes that have marked his noble and\nhonorable career.\n\nWhile still young, Mol\u00e9 had risen to the brilliant and perilous\nposition of _Premier Pr\u00e9sident du Parlement de Paris_ by the mere\nforce of talent and rigid integrity of character; he had never courted\nthe patronage of a minister, nor accepted a favor from one; he had\nlent no base compliance to Richelieu\u2019s despotism or to Mazarin\u2019s\nmore captivating rule; he had remained the staunch friend of the\nheterodox Abb\u00e9 de St. Cyran, holding faster by him in his disgrace and\nimprisonment than in the days of his transient popularity, persecuting\nRichelieu to obtain his pardon, dodging the inaccessible minister late\nand early, waylaying him in all possible and impossible places with the\nsame persistent cry, \u201cGive me back my friend St. Cyran,\u201d till at last\nRichelieu, worn out with his importunity, seized the president by the\narm one day, and said: \u201cThis M. Mol\u00e9 is a worthy magistrate, but the\nmost obstinate pleader in France,\u201d and gave him back his Abb\u00e9 de St.\nCyran. This was the man who was chosen to head a second embassy from\nthe people to the Palais Royal. The regent was aware of his coming,\nand received him with cold civility; but her high spirit was slightly\nsubdued since the preceding day; she had passed a sleepless night\nwaiting for the events of the morrow, and was disposed to admit the\npossibility of coming to a compromise with her unruly citizens. Mathieu\nMol\u00e9 was not an orator in the classical sense of the word, but he had\nthat sort of eloquence that stirs the hearts of men. It achieved a\nvictory, in the first place, over the angry mob by making them listen\nto reason and take a dispassionate view of their position, and now it\ngained an equally important one with the regent, inducing her to yield\na reluctant consent to the liberation of Broussel. The barricades\nwere lowered, and Paris gave a joyous welcome to its friend. But the\nblaze thus rashly kindled was not to be so quickly quenched. Anne of\nAustria eventually conquered both the Fronde and the less violent but\nequally dangerous pretensions of Mazarin, who, succumbing with a fairly\ngood grace before the indomitable courage and inflexible firmness of\nthe regent, renounced the ambition of making her his tool, and was\nsatisfied with being her right hand in governing the state. How high\nhis ambition soared may be guessed from the following trait. Once, when\nconversing with Anne of Austria, emboldened by that gracious _abandon_\nof manner which made the haughty Spaniard so charming in her amiable\nmoods, Mazarin alluded to the boyish passion of the king for his niece,\nMarie Mancini, and observed how deeply he would have deplored it had\nhis majesty, yielding to the infatuation of the hour, committed the\nchivalrous folly of marrying her. Anne of Austria drew herself up with\nall the pride of her Castilian blood, and answered: \u201cHad my son been\ncapable of such an unworthiness, I should have placed myself with his\nbrother at the head of the nation against him and against you.\u201d The\nproud daughter of kings, who, by the strength of her solitary will,\ncould govern a nation and cow the daring leaders of the Fronde, was\nin person as tender and delicate as a child; her health was fragile,\nand her skin so sensitive that it was difficult to find any cambric\nsoft enough to clothe without hurting her. Mazarin, alluding once to\nthis Sybarite delicacy of temperament, declared to the regent that her\npurgatory in the next world would be to sleep in Holland sheets. Yet,\nwhen Anne was attacked by the cruel malady which ended her days, no\nRoman matron could have endured it with greater fortitude. Her piety,\nwhich had guarded her youth through the alluring temptations of the\ncourt, despite the neglect and rudeness of a morose and heartless\nhusband, sustained her in the protracted tortures of her last illness.\nShortly before she expired, Louis XIV. was kneeling by the bedside of\nhis mother, weeping bitterly, and covering her hand with his tears;\nshe drew it gently away, and, looking for a moment at that hand which\nhad been her chief woman\u2019s vanity, she murmured: \u201cThey are beginning\nto swell; it is time to go!\u201d Some historians have flippantly taxed\nAnne with having systematically kept her son in the background, and\nsacrificed him selfishly to the prolongation of her own power; but\nLouis\u2019 passionate grief at her death, and his lifelong gratitude to\nthe memory of his mother, sufficiently repudiate this charge. Louis\nXIV. never resided at the Palais Royal after her death; when necessity\nobliged him to remain in Paris, he occupied the Louvre.\n\nThe characters and careers of Richelieu and Mazarin furnish one of\nthose points of comparison which history is so fond of. Richelieu was\nundeniably the more brilliant statesman of the two; he was endowed with\ngreater originality and a larger breadth of view; he left a deeper\nimpress on his time, and his remote action on France was more enduring;\nbut if the achievement of peace be more valuable to a people than the\nprosecution of war, Mazarin has paramount claims on the gratitude of\nhis country. The Treaty of Westphalia, and the Peace of the Pyrenees,\nare two monuments raised by Mazarin to his own fame that out-top all\nthe dazzling trophies of his predecessors, and establish a nobler\nclaim to the admiration of the civilized world than all Richelieu\u2019s\nvictorious accomplishments in war. Both statesmen were pre-eminently\ngifted with that power of reading men which is so serviceable an agent\nin the hands of those who are called to govern. It was this electric\ninstinct which prompted Richelieu to single out Mazarin from the crowd\nas the man best fitted to be his successor\u2014a choice which the young\nItalian justified by carrying out with unswerving fixity of purpose\nthe vast unfinished designs of the patron whom death had cut short in\nthe midst of his work. Mazarin, on the other hand, gave a striking\nproof of this same subtle insight when he said of the young king, then\na mere boy in his mother\u2019s leading-strings, and as yet having done\nnothing to reveal the future grand monarch: \u201cThere is stuff enough in\nhim to make four kings and one honest man.\u201d Both ministers set their\ninfluence and power above the interest and authority of the sovereign;\nbut both labored with unflinching steadiness of aim to raise the\nmonarchy to a height of splendor it had never before reached, and was\nnot destined long to retain. Both carried their _soutane_ with more\nof martial dignity than priestly gravity\u2014that _soutane_ of which\nRichelieu boasted: \u201cI mow down everything, I upset everything, and\nthen I cover it all with my red _soutane_.\u201d Both made it the business\nof their lives while at the head of the state to humble Austria and\nSpain, and both succeeded. The marriage of Louis XIV. with the Infanta\nof Spain was one of Mazarin\u2019s most successful diplomatic acts; he\nforesaw in this union the probable succession of the Bourbons to the\ncrown of Charles Quint. But alongside of his many services to his\ncountry, there is one act of his that goes far to annul them\u2014this\nwas his introduction of gambling into France. To this deplorable\nimportation the Abb\u00e9 St. Pierre traces, not perhaps without a shade\nof exaggeration, but with palpable logic, the rapid decadence of the\nnational morals and character; he says that Mazarin inoculated the\nyoung king with the passion for games of hazard, in order to keep his\nmind aloof from things in which it became him better to be interested,\nand thereby to prevent his interference in the affairs of state; the\nregent, in her turn, became smitten with the novel mania, and would\nspend whole nights with her court playing cards. Mazarin himself was\nan incorrigible gambler, and often devoted to this passion the hours\nhe should have given to sleep after his day\u2019s arduous task. He was\nlooked upon more as a player of doubtful honesty\u2014\u201c_un joueur plus que\nsuspect_\u201d; but \u201cwho allowed others in turn to cheat him, provided they\ndid it cleverly,\u201d St. Pierre tells us; and he goes on to say: \u201cThe\nyoung nobles, first at court, and then all over the country, followed\nhis example, and took to card-playing; they forsook the athletic\nsports and manly amusements which had delighted their fathers, and\ngave themselves up to this enervating and ruinous passion; they became\nweaker, more ignorant, and less polished; women caught the fever, and\ngrew to respect themselves less, and to be less respected.\u201d Mazarin\u2019s\navarice was as insatiable as his ambition; he died colossally rich;\nbut during his last illness, seized with remorse, he made over all his\nunjust gains to the king, who, of course, refused to accept them, and\nthe cardinal then divided his vast wealth between Louis, the queen,\nCond\u00e9, Turenne, his friend Louis de Haro, and several members of his\nown family. He bequeathed a large sum for the foundation of a college,\nwhich he also endowed with his splendid library, recollected after its\ndispersion by the Frondeurs at immense trouble and expense. He wished\nthis college to be called _Coll\u00e9ge des quatre nations_, destining it\nchiefly for the education of young men belonging to the four provinces\nannexed to France during his ministry\u2014Pignerol, Alsace, Roussillon,\nand Artois. Le Tellier, who was his executor, punctually obeyed all\nhis instructions except the last-named. By desire of the king, it\nwas called Coll\u00e9ge Mazarin, which was to become the magnificent\nBiblioth\u00e8que Royale of to-day.\n\nHenrietta Maria of England occupied the Palais Royal in 1644. The\nmarriage of her daughter Henrietta to Philip of Orleans, then Duc\nd\u2019Anjou, was celebrated here with great pomp, and here the young\nprincess held a brilliant court for a few years, while her mother dwelt\nin the cloistered retreat of Chaillot. The thread of this bright young\nlife was suddenly snapped asunder. Bossuet\u2019s \u201cO night of horror!\u201d came\nlike a thunderbolt from a summer sky, scattering the volatile court,\nand spreading the news of its loss over the whole of France. Then came\nthe Regency, which was to add a chapter of such dark and lamentable\nnotoriety to the history of the Palais Royal. The nephew of Louis\nXIV. inherited all the vices and foibles of his race without any of\ntheir redeeming qualities. His selfish, easy-going _bonhomie_ has been\nsometimes lauded as clemency; but it may more justly be considered\na combination of weakness and cynical contempt for the claims of\njustice. When the enraged populace gathered before his palace, dragging\nthree naked corpses\u2014the victims of their legitimate but misplaced\nanger\u2014along with them, the regent looked out at the tempestuous scene,\nand remarked coolly: \u201cThe mob are right; the wonder is they bear so\nmuch from us.\u201d And truly it was a wonder; and if the Revolution of\n\u201893 did not break out under the lawless and exasperating rule of the\nRegency, it must only have been because, as St. Simon explained it,\n\u201cthree things are necessary to make a revolution: leaders, brains,\nand funds, none of which were to be found in France at this period.\u201d\nThe _petits soupers de la R\u00e9gence_, which have acquired an infamous\ncelebrity through all the chronicles of the time, can have no place in\nour sketch.\n\nThe visit of Peter the Great broke in on the luxurious and effeminate\ncourt of the Palais Royal like a Spartan appearing suddenly in the\nmidst of a banquet of Sybarites. Peter, who had \u201ccivilized his people\nby cutting their heads off,\u201d set his heart on visiting France during\nthe preceding reign; but Louis XIV., partly from an insurmountable\nantipathy to the semi-barbarous autocrat, partly from political\nmotives, had signified to his brother of all the Russias that his\nabsence would be more agreeable than his presence. Peter was compelled,\ntherefore, to wait until the Grand Monarque had rejoined his ancestors\nbefore gratifying his desire to visit Paris. The regent, far from\nmaking any difficulty about receiving him, made the most sumptuous\npreparations for the Northern reformer, and invited him to be his guest\nat the Palais Royal. But the hardy Muscovite could not conceal his\ncontempt for the epicurean habits of his host, and horrified him by\ndeclaring that he never slept on anything softer than a camp-stretcher,\nwhich he carried with him in all his peregrinations, and used on the\nfield of battle and in his own palace, and which he insisted now on\nsubstituting for the luxurious couch prepared for him. Altogether,\nthe ways of Peter bewildered the nephew of Louis XIV. He was up with\nthe birds, and flying over the city to see things and people that\nthe latter would never have dreamed of calling his attention to. He\nexpressed a wish to see Mme. de Maintenon, then living in dignified\nretreat at St. Cyr. Her Solidity, as Louis XIV. had dubbed her, pleaded\nill-health as an excuse for declining the honor and fatigue of an\nofficial reception. Peter, therefore, set off one morning and scared\nthe learned and sedate ladies of St. Cyr out of their propriety by\nrequesting to be shown at once to Mme. de Maintenon\u2019s room. On arriving\nthere, he entered without knocking, walked straight to the bed, pushed\naside the curtains, and, sitting down beside the astonished lady,\nentered brusquely into conversation. The Sorbonne he also honored\nwith one of these unceremonious visitations; perceiving a statue of\nRichelieu in one of the galleries, he rushed up to it, and, clasping\nthe marble in his arms, exclaimed: \u201cO incomparable man! would that thou\nwert still alive, and I would give thee one-half of my empire to teach\nme how to govern the other!\u201d\n\nBut with all this rough and somewhat ostentatious disregard of\netiquette, Peter had a keen sense of what was due to his imperial\nmightiness, and, with the caprice of a despot, could assert it\ntrenchantly enough when he thought fit. The regent invited a number\nof the most illustrious men of the day to meet his eccentric guest\nat a banquet at the Palais Royal. As they were about to enter the\ndining-room, little Louis XV. stood back to let the czar pass first;\nPeter was unwilling to take precedence of the King of France, and\nequally reluctant to walk behind a child, so he wittily solved the\ndifficulty by catching up the small monarch in his arms and carrying\nhim to his seat.\n\nThe regent closed his ignoble life at the Palais Royal in 1723. His\nson Louis, Duke of Orleans, succeeded him. This prince brought his\nyoung bride, Jeanne de Bade, there soon after he took possession of his\nancestral home, and lost her after a brief and blissful union. At the\ntime of her death, Louis XV. was lying mortally sick, it was believed,\nat Metz, and thither, in the frenzy of his grief, the bereaved husband\nflew, and, going straight to the room of the dying king, demanded\nadmittance; the attendants expostulated, but Louis pushed them aside,\nand kicked in the door to announce his loss to the kinsman who himself\nlay battling with death. He survived Jeanne some years, but never\nrecovered her loss; he led a solitary and desolate life, and gave\nhimself up to works of benevolence and the study of oriental languages.\nHe became a perfect adept in the Arabic, Hebrew, and Greek tongues,\nand never appeared at court as a widower except when the imperious\netiquette of Versailles occasionally demanded it. He died in 1752. His\nson\u2019s reign at the Palais Royal is chiefly remarkable by his having\ninoculated his own children with small-pox; the daring experiment,\nwhich was performed by Tronchin, summoned from Geneva for the purpose,\nwas crowned with success. Paris, transported with joy, made bonfires in\nthe Place in front of the palace, and for a time the rash and fortunate\nfather was the hero of toast and song. Another event which signalized\nhis occupation of Richelieu\u2019s palace was the destruction of the theatre\nby fire (1763). The duke rebuilt it on a somewhat larger but infinitely\nless gorgeous scale as to decoration. He was an enlightened patron\nof art, and especially kind in assisting young men whose talent was\nstruggling to make head against poverty. He divined the genius of the\nyoung poet Le F\u00e8vre, and encouraged him both by personal notice and by\nliberal gifts. He was so pleased with Le F\u00e8vre\u2019s tragedy _Zuma_ that\nimmediately on its appearance he bestowed a pension of 1,200 crowns\non the poet out of his privy purse; and on the latter\u2019s asking what\nservices were expected from him in return for this munificence, the\nduke answered: \u201cIt obliges you to work henceforth more ardently for\nyour own fame\u2014nothing more.\u201d This prince, though he allowed himself\nto be drawn, to a certain extent, into the fashionable follies of\nthe court, had inherited from his father many sterling and beautiful\nqualities. His benevolence was unbounded; but it was only after his\ndeath that his real character was revealed, so carefully did he shun\neverything like ostentation in the exercise of his favorite virtue. It\nwas then discovered that two-thirds of his immense revenue had been\nspent upon the poor, in the payment of pensions to artists, men of\nletters, widows, etc.; some granted in his own name, others in the name\nof one or other of his ancestors. His condescending kindness towards\nhis dependents endeared him to all who approached him. A chamberlain\ncoming one day to announce to him the death of a most inefficient\nand tiresome valet, who had been twenty years in the duke\u2019s service,\n\u201cPoor fellow!\u201d sighed the duke, \u201cfor twenty years he served me, and\nfor twenty years he worried me!\u201d \u201cWhy did you keep him, monseigneur?\u201d\ninquired a bystander. \u201cWhy, he would never have found a place if I had\nturned him away,\u201d replied the prince, and then added: \u201cWe must see now\nthat his wife and children are provided for.\u201d Was it not Sophocles who\nsaid, \u201cOnly a great soul knows how much glory there is in being kind\u201d?\nWhat a germ of true glory there lies buried in this quiet little trait\nof Louis d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans!\n\nThe death of this magnificent patron, forbearing master, and generous\nfather of the poor makes way for another prince of the House of Orleans\nwho has earned a louder but less enviable notoriety on the world-stage\nof history. Almost immediately on his becoming master of the Palais\nRoyal, the new Duc d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans had the vexation of seeing the theatre so\nrecently rebuilt by his father burnt down again. Discouraged, no doubt,\nby this precedent, he refused to rebuild it at his own expense, and\napplied to the city of Paris for the necessary funds; but that body\ndeclined to furnish them. The _Com\u00e9die Fran\u00e7aise_ was consequently\ntransferred to the Porte St. Martin, where a building was erected in\nthe space of six weeks by Lenoir. It was not till many years later\nthat Richelieu\u2019s beautiful temple to dramatic art was rebuilt by a\nprince of the House of Orleans, to be henceforth hired out on lease to\nenterprising managers.\n\nWe are told that in his early youth Joseph Philippe d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans gave\npromise of an estimable manhood. How wofully this promise was belied by\nhis after-life and shameful and tragic death we know. He was born at\nSt. Cloud in 1747, and married, in 1769, the only daughter of the Duc\nde Penthi\u00e8vre\u2014a creature endowed with every charm of person and mind\nto make her at once reverenced and loved. Philippe was tall, slight,\nand well proportioned, his features finely cut and lit up with vivacity\nand intelligence, his manners gracious and dignified. Such is the\nportrait handed down to us of him in those early days before the shadow\nof coming infamy had obscured the picture. He fell soon into habits of\nunbridled dissipation; but, so long as he confined himself to this,\nto mad charioteering pranks on the boulevards, and aerial escapades\nin balloons, with boon companions as mad as himself, the people\nlooked on in contemptuous disapproval. It was necessary, in order to\nstimulate this passive feeling to one of direct antagonism, that he\nshould interfere with the popular pleasure and convenience. This he\ndid by turning his broad and richly planted garden into a huge shop,\nthus depriving the _bourgeois_ and idlers of Paris of their accustomed\nresort on the sultry days and long mellow evenings of summer. His royal\nhighness had contrived very soon to compromise a fortune more than\nroyal in its extent; and, in order to replenish his coffers, he decided\nto cut down his ancestral chestnuts, and build up in their place long\nrows of shops, to be hired out at a high rent to tradespeople. The\nfashionables and the _bourgeois_, and, more important than all in a\nFrenchman\u2019s eyes, the children, were thus driven to promenade under a\nstone colonnade, instead of enjoying the green shade of Richelieu\u2019s\ngroves, where the buzz of a multifarious bazaar had replaced the\ncooing of doves and the twitter of singing-birds. By-and-by we see the\nthermometer rising from resentful dislike to fierce hatred. Philip\nis smitten with Anglomania, and spends his time and, what is of more\nconsequence to Paris, his money in London. He wears only London-made\ncoats, drives English horses, hires English grooms, altogether affects\nthe ways and manners of _outre-mer_, to the great disgust of Versailles\nand the boulevards. Wretched Philip! well had it been for him and\nfor Versailles had he dwelt content in these puerile masquerades and\nself-degrading follies! But under the frivolous surface there lay\na substratum of cruel vindictiveness, a bristling self-love, that\nwas quick to see an affront, and implacable in avenging it. Marie\nAntoinette had the dire ill-luck to offend her disreputable cousin of\nOrleans. When her brother, the Archduke Maximilian, came to see her\nat Versailles, the queen, then in her twentieth year, very naturally\ndesired to see as much as possible of this dear companion of her\nchildhood during his short stay; so she dispensed, as far as she could,\nwith court ceremonial, remaining chiefly in her private apartments with\nher brother. It did not probably occur to her that, in omitting to\ninvite the Duc d\u2019Orl\u00e9ans to share this sisterly intercourse, she was\ninflicting a wound that would one day distil its deadly poison upon\nherself and those dearest to her. So it was, however. Philip never\nforgave what he considered a slight, and bitterly did he make the\nthoughtless young queen repent having inflicted it.\n\nThe gardens of the Palais Royal, which had given rise to his first\nunpopularity, were destined to be the scene of the upheaving of the\nrevolution. All was ready, only waiting for a bold hand to give a push\nto the pendulum and set it going. Camille Desmoulins did it. It was\nthe 12th of July, 1789. Yesterday the great crisis had been prepared,\nand to-day it burst. Necker, the universal genius whose advent to the\nministry was hailed as the panacea for all discords, and difficulties,\nand threatened dangers; Necker, the \u201cAchilles of computation,\u201d whose,\nvigorous hand and capacious brain were to seize France, tottering on\nthe brink of some invisible gulf, and steady her; Necker, to whom\nthe timid, apathetic king, and the proud, valiant queen, had all but\ngone on their knees to induce him to come and redeem the treasury by\n\u201cswift arithmetic,\u201d and save the government and\u2014yes, even at this\ndate they must have included it in the salvations to be accomplished\nby Necker\u2014the throne; Necker, who had yielded to the royal suppliants\nwith these words: \u201cI yield in obedience to duty, but with the certainty\nthat I am doomed\u201d\u2014Necker had been dismissed. On the 11th of July,\nLouis XVI. signed the letter imploring the minister to leave the\nkingdom \u201cat once and without _\u00e9clat_.\u201d When his secretary objected that\nNecker\u2019s extraordinary popularity was a strong presumption against his\nobeying this last command; that he had only to show himself, and the\npeople would rise _en masse_ to prevent his flight, Louis replied:\n\u201cI know Necker; he will guard us against himself; he will obey me\nscrupulously, and fly without _\u00e9clat_.\u201d And he was right. The minister\nreceived the letter at three in the afternoon, and quietly put it in\nhis pocket without communicating its contents even to his wife; he\ndined at the usual hour with some friends already invited; nothing in\nhis appearance or conversation betrayed the slightest emotion during\nthe repast; on leaving the table, he showed the letter of dismissal\nto Mme. Necker, ordered his carriage, and they went out for a drive;\nwhen they were about two hundred yards from the house, he pulled\nthe check-string, and desired the coachman to drive to the nearest\npost-station. It was not till the following morning that his daughter\nand his numerous friends knew of his departure. The news electrified\neverybody. Camille Desmoulins\u2019 grand opportunity had arrived. He\nhad already made himself notorious as a leader of malcontents; this\nafternoon he was drinking with a certain set of them in a _caf\u00e9_ at\nthe Palais Royal\u2014of late a favorite rendezvous of patriots of his\ntype\u2014noisy and blustering, believing in copious libations as the\nmost efficacious proof of patriotism. Desmoulins, on hearing the\nnews, rushed out, pistol in hand, and, jumping on an orange-tree tub,\nproceeded to harangue the assembled multitude. He was afflicted with a\npainful stuttering in his speech, but this impediment appears to have\nbeen no hindrance to the effect of his oratory; on the contrary, it\ngave it a more vehement character, impelling him to wild and passionate\ngesticulation, by way of helping out his defective utterance. He spoke\nwith his eyes, his teeth, every member of his body; he would shake\nout his hair in lion-like fashion, stamp his feet, toss his arms with\nclenched fists above his head to supply the word his tongue refused to\narticulate, and the energetic pantomine elicited the sympathy, while\nit fired the passions, of his hearers. \u201cCitizens!\u201d he cried, \u201cI come\nfrom Versailles.\u201d (He came from a neighboring _caf\u00e9_, as we have seen,\nbut what of that?) \u201cNecker is dismissed. This dismissal is the tocsin\nof S. Bartholomew for all patriots. Before the sun has gone down, we\nshall see the Swiss and German battalions marching from the Champs de\nMars to murder us like dogs. One chance yet remains to us. To arms!\nLet us choose a cockade whereby we may know each other.\u201d This exordium\nwas covered with thundering salvos by the patriots. \u201cWhat color shall\nwe choose?\u201d continued the orator. \u201cSpeak, patriots! Select your own\nflag. Shall it be green, the emblem of hope, or blue\u2014the color of free\nAmerica, of liberty, and democracy?\u201d A voice from the patriots cried\nout: \u201cGreen, the color of hope!\u201d But the choice was negatived by the\nvoice of popular prejudice. Green, it was said, was unlucky. No; they\nwould not have green.\n\nA scene of indescribable tumult followed while the momentous question\nof the cockade was being canvassed. Finally, by what train of argument\nhistory does not record, blue, white, and red were elected to the honor\nof representing the patriots. They happened to be the colors of the\nHouse of Orleans. From the tub which served as a rostrum to the orator\nthe decree was shouted to the serried ranks around, and all through\nthe gardens it was borne along the colonnade rapid as lightning,\nswelling, as it went, into a deafening peal that soon reverberated\nfrom the boulevards and the thoroughfares of Paris to Versailles. It\nis said, we know not whether or not on authentic testimony, that while\nthis wild uproar, which terminated in the adoption of his House\u2019s\ncolors by the popular party, was going on under his windows, Philip of\nOrleans, henceforth to be known under the title of Egalit\u00e9, was coolly\nlooking out at the performance, smoking his cigar, and discussing the\nprobable effect of it all at Versailles. By the time the whole city\nwas out-of-doors, it was the hour for the performance to begin in\nthe Palais Royal theatre, close by the scene of Camille\u2019s rhetorical\ntriumph; other more interesting pieces, beginning with comedy and\nending with tragedy, were now to be performed; a band of patriots,\nwith Camille at their head, burst into the theatre, and, rushing on\nthe stage, summarily reversed the programme of the evening. They flung\ntricolor cockades right and left, and called the spectators to arms.\n\u201cThe audience rose _en masse_\u201d at the appeal, like a true-born Parisian\naudience, and, surging from pit and boxes, poured out impetuous and\ndesperate, it knew not well why, at the bidding of Camille Desmoulins.\nHe marched off, with the swelling stream behind him, to the studio\nof the sculptor Curtius; there the patriots seized a bust of Necker\nand Philip of Orleans, and carried them in procession through the\nstreets. This was Egalit\u00e9\u2019s official _d\u00e9but_, as a leader of the Red\nRevolution. It was at the Palais Royal he was arrested. Here, on the\nsite of its first eruption, the wild demon which he had, in the measure\nof his power, evoked and called up from the smouldering lava depths\nto the full activity of its satanic life, and flattered and bowed\ndown to, was doomed at the appointed hour of retribution to raise its\nbloody hand against the regicide, and strike him down. On his way to\nthe guillotine, the car, whether by accident or design, passed under\nEgalit\u00e9\u2019s old home. He raised his eyes for a moment to the windows,\nand, surveying them with an unmoved countenance, turned his glance\ncalmly again upon the yelling crowd.\n\nWhile the Terror lasted, the Palais Royal remained untenanted. After\nthe Restoration it was occupied by Louis Philippe while Duke of\nOrleans; when the son of Egalit\u00e9 called himself to the throne of his\nnephew, he forsook it for the Tuileries, and during the remainder of\nhis reign it was open to the public as an historical monument and\nmuseum. On the resurrection of the Empire, the Palais Royal became\nthe residence of Prince Jerome Bonaparte, only surviving brother of\nNapoleon I. When this last venerable twig fell from the old imperial\ntree, it continued in the possession of his son, Prince Napoleon.\nHither, in March, 1859, he brought his young bride, the Princess\nClothilde, daughter of Victor Emmanuel, and there he resided until the\nmemorable summer of 1870, when the disastrous war with Prussia came\nlike a cyclone, and tore up the old tree by the roots, and sent the\nbranches flying hither and thither over the astonished face of Europe.\n\nThe Commune closes our retrospect of Richelieu\u2019s palace. The Tuileries\nand the Palais Royal sent up their petroleum flames together to the\nsoft summer skies where the bright May sun was shining down, serenely\nsad, upon the awful spectacle of Paris on fire\u2014a funeral pile whereon\nwere consumed, let us hope never again to rise from their ashes, the\nCommune itself, and the delusions of the few honest fools, if such\nthere were, who believed in its insane theories. Surely as they fled,\nscared from their old historic haunts by the blaze and stench of the\ndevilish modern fluid, the ghosts of Richelieu, and Mazarin, and Anne\nof Austria, and all that band of majestic figures from the unburied\npast, must have laughed a bitter laugh, wherein horror was not without\na note of triumph, as they looked back upon the ghastly scene. \u201cOur\nlittle systems had their day,\u201d the dead legislators may have said,\none to another, as they stood in the lurid light of the conflagration\nthat illuminated, to the eyes of their disembodied spirit, the\nfar-stretching vistas of the present and the past; \u201cthey were all\nfaulty, how faulty we know now with unavailing knowledge, but, compared\nto this, were they not the Millennium, Eutopia, the ideal of the reign\nof justice upon the earth?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nAN ABUSE OF DIPLOMATIC AUTHORITY.\n\n\nTHE tendency, to which we have heretofore alluded, to ostracize\nCatholics, and to take it for granted that this is a Protestant\ncountry, to be ruled exclusively by anti-Catholics, has had even a\nmore dangerous and far-reaching effect beyond our borders, and that,\ntoo, apparently with official sanction. The popular prejudice has not\nunnaturally reached and infected the authorities at Washington. We\ndo not allude especially to the present Administration or Congress,\nfor the evil is of long standing; but we have no hesitation in saying\nthat our diplomatic and consular systems as at present conducted are\nunjust to a very respectable minority of the American people, and are\nlikely to mislead and deceive the nations with which we are on terms of\npeace and amity. The foreign appointees are, almost without exception,\ntaken from the ranks of non-Catholics and without regard either to\nthe feelings of a large class of our own citizens or the wishes of\nthe people to whom they are sent. The ministers plenipotentiary to\nthe great powers of Europe have been invariably selected from the\nultra Protestant class like Motley; while the numerous consuls, with a\nfew honorable exceptions, have been men of the same way of thinking,\naccording to their limited understanding. When the Holy Father was yet\nin possession of his dominions, we used to delight in sending him now\nand then a specimen of a genuine Know-Nothing; and when Spain\u2014Catholic\nand conservative Spain\u2014began to feel the Gem of the Antilles slipping\nfrom her grasp, we despatched an atheistical _filibustero_, Soul\u00e9, to\nassure her of our friendship and good-will With Catholic countries\ngenerally we have acted in the same spirit of contradiction, as if our\nobject were to excite hostility rather than to perpetuate kindness and\nharmony, as among them, particularly in South America, each legation\nand consulate habitually formed the nucleus of anti-Catholic society.\nAs long as this blundering\u2014we will not call it by a harsher name\u2014was\nconfined to our European appointments, it mattered little; for the\nrelative condition of Catholics and the sects in this country is there\npretty well known, and, the faith of the people being well fixed,\nprejudice and bigotry, even when protected by the stars and stripes,\ncould do little harm.\n\nIt is of the character of our representatives in Turkey, Africa, India,\nChina, and other places _in partibus infidelium_ that we have most\nreason to complain. These American envoys and consuls seem to become\nvolunteer lay evangelizers; and if, like our friends of the Methodist\nand Presbyterian missionary societies of this city, they do not succeed\nin converting the benighted heathen from the error of their ways, they\nendeavor, by the exercise of all their delegated authority, to thwart\nand depreciate the labors of those who can\u2014the Catholic missionaries\nfrom other countries. Take, for example, India and China, the great\nmissionary fields of the world, containing as they do at least one-half\nof the whole human race in a comparative state of civilization. The\nformer being a province of Great Britain, it is natural that sectarian\nmissions should receive at least a semi-official recognition and\nprotection from the appointees of the head of the Protestant Church \u201cas\nby law established\u201d; but even in this respect the English officials\nhave been outdone in zeal and officiousness by our own agents in the\nIndian Peninsula, as we learn from a late work on that country.[44]\nBut in China, with its four or five hundred millions of idolaters,\nthe case is different. There the Catholic priest and the devoted\nSister of Charity, unsupported by the temporal arm, and unawed by\nthreats, torture, and death, have been most active and most successful\nin advancing the standard of the cross and winning souls to Christ.\nTheir converts are numbered by tens of thousands, and their churches,\nschools, and orphanages dot the southern and western coasts; while the\nsectarian missionaries, lacking the sustaining power of the state, have\npractically done nothing. This has long been a source of much chagrin\nto the various dissenting proselytizing societies in England and the\nUnited States, as it also seems to have been the cause of exasperation\nto our Minister at Peking, Mr. Frederick F. Low.\n\nThat gentleman\u2019s mission to China appears to have embraced but three\nobjects, if we except his attempt and absurd failure to bring the\nCoreans into communication with the outside world. The first of these\nwas the protection of American Protestant missionaries, and them only;\nthe second, to convince the Chinese officials that the United States\nhave nothing to do with Catholics, or, as he is pleased to style them\non all occasions, \u201cRomanists\u201d; and the third, to send home false\ndespatches and mistranslated documents.\n\nIn looking over the foreign correspondence of our government for 1871,\nas presented to Congress with the President\u2019s Message,[45] we find\nthat, in October, 1870, Mr. Low, without any authority whatever from\nWashington, ordered a United States war-vessel from Chefoo to Tungchow,\nfor the sole purpose of returning some Protestant missionaries to\nthe latter place, who, with their usual regard for the first law of\nnature, had fled from it upon the slightest rumor of danger. The\nship was the _Benecia_, and her precious cargo consisted of \u201cthe\nmissionaries (number not stated), their teachers and servants, also\n_their children_, amounting to a total of twenty-four persons.\u201d Of\nthe reverend gentlemen at whose disposal a public vessel had been so\nobsequiously placed by the accommodating Mr. Low, Commander Kimberly,\nin his report, bluntly says:\n\n \u201cThe missionaries expressed themselves perfectly satisfied with\n everything that had been done in regard to returning them to their\n homes, and wished me to visit the shore and walk about the city with\n the officers of the ship in full uniform, which I declined to do,\n as, after the promises made by the Chinese officials, I considered\n it unnecessary, and the Chinese being perfectly willing and pleased,\n as far as I could judge, that they had returned. From my interview,\n I came to the conclusion that there never existed any real danger at\n Tungchow-foo, but the missionaries were frightened by the threats of\n some Chinese not in authority. Mischievous persons are found in every\n community, and Tungchow-foo is not free from this infliction. The\n massacre of Tientsin capped the climax, and the missionaries left in\n consequence.\u201d\n\nThe cowardly conduct of the missionaries, who were thus so honorably\nreconducted to their homes, is even partially admitted by the minister\nin his explanatory despatch, for he says: \u201cIn this connection, I desire\nto say that I have had no information from the missionaries, except a\nshort note from one of them saying that they had all reached Tungchow.\nWithout expressing any opinion as to the real peril they were in, or\nwhether there was or was not cause for the step they took, I am of the\nopinion that their removal and the manner of their return will, on the\nwhole, result in good.\u201d\n\nWe admit that it is the duty of every envoy, consul, or other foreign\nagent of our government to succor and protect our citizens abroad in\nall things lawful; but here, in this respect, their duty ends. They\nhave no shadow of right to employ the public vessels of the country,\npaid for by the public at large, and destined for far other purposes,\nin any other business, much less for the transportation of runaway\nmissionaries, \u201ctheir teachers, servants, and children.\u201d This is not\na Protestant country _de facto_ or _de jure_, and, as far as the\nnational government is concerned, no religion whatever is recognized.\nIf it were an equal number of merchants or traders who had fled in\nterror from imaginary danger, is it likely that Mr. Low would have\ndepleted our small squadron in the Chinese seas by putting at their\nservice, and that of their \u201cteachers, servants, and children,\u201d one of\nthe best vessels in the fleet? Or does any one suppose that, if those\npersons had been Catholic missionaries, he would have been guilty of\na similar abuse of authority? But he apologetically says, \u201cThe manner\nof their return will, on the whole, result in good.\u201d Just so. Good to\nMr. Low, though we have not yet heard of a vote of thanks having been\npresented to him by any of our numerous foreign missionary societies,\nor that they have sent on to Washington deputations for his retention\nor promotion. That his conduct deserves such commendation from these\nbodies no one can doubt who reads further his despatches to the State\nDepartment.\n\nIn 1858, a treaty was formed between China, on the one part, and the\nleading Western powers, on the other, whereby, among other things, it\nwas stipulated that the Christian converts in the former country should\npractise their religion without molestation, and also enjoy certain\nimmunities; and that in the free or open ports and districts the\nministers of religion should be guaranteed the full exercise of their\nfunctions, etc. In 1870, as previously agreed upon, this treaty came\nup for revision, and France, ever foremost in the work of civilization\nand conversion, proposed five amendments to the treaty, all relating\ndirectly or indirectly to commerce. The second of these reads as\nfollows:\n\n \u201cYou have expressed a desire to know the demands which I have engaged\n my government to make from the Chinese government when the treaty of\n 1858 is revised. I have no objection to satisfy you, for I believe\n that the alterations are indispensable, and I shall be happy to learn\n that the other governments allied with China have decided also to\n demand them.... Second, I demand that we shall have the right to place\n salaried consuls wherever we judge proper, and that those cities where\n consuls reside shall also be opened to foreign trade.\u201d\n\nThese demands seemed rational enough, and have since, we understand,\nbeen substantially complied with; but our clear-sighted minister\nimmediately detected the danger that lurked beneath them, particularly\nthe one just quoted, and hastened to advise his government not to\nsecond the propositions of the French ambassador. Here is one of his\nreasons:\n\n \u201cI see so many objections to such a treaty provision, and so many\n chances of its proving a delusion and a snare, that, unless the\n proposition can be more definitely defined, I should not be inclined\n to favor it. If the exact truth could be ascertained, it would be\n found, I expect, that the whole idea of the French _charg\u00e9_ in this\n scheme is the better protection of the French missionaries; and were\n it possible to obtain the concession asked for, these additional\n consuls would be, to all intents and purposes, agents of Roman\n Catholic missionaries. Their official positions and influence would be\n used to sustain missionary claims and assumptions, some of which have\n been described in a former despatch. So far as trade is concerned, it\n may well be questioned whether the presence of French consuls in the\n interior would not prove a damage instead of a benefit.\u201d\n\nAnd this is the representative of a free and commercial people who\ndesire to be considered Christian! Rather than see Catholic missions\nextended, and paganism eradicated from the hearts of millions of\nhuman beings, he would be willing to keep some of the most populous\nand fertile portions of the Celestial Empire closed for ever against\ncivilization and commerce. But let us follow this model minister a\nlittle further.\n\nIn February, 1871, the Chinese Foreign Office submitted to the foreign\nrepresentatives at the capital, for consideration and approval, the\ndraft of a minute, and eight rules for the guidance and government\nof missionaries in the entire empire. They were drawn up with true\nTartar cunning and ingenuity, and were intended, if adopted, to baffle\nthe straightforward demands of France. In terms they were plausible\nenough, but in reality exceedingly restrictive, and evidently aimed\nat the Sisters of Charity, whose schools and orphan asylums were\nrapidly increasing, and at those zealous and enterprising missionaries\nwho, under various disguises, and despite the vigilance of the local\nauthorities, are in the habit, at imminent personal danger, of\npenetrating into the very heart of the country, and preaching the Word\nof God where his name has never before been heard. This was a chance\nfor Mr. Low to exhibit his sectarian bigotry before the mandarins, and\nhe eagerly availed himself of it. Answering their communication in his\nofficial capacity, and while dissenting generally from their views, he\ntakes occasion, we think very gratuitously, to say:\n\n \u201cIt is a noticeable fact that, among all the cases cited, there does\n not appear to be one in which Protestant missionaries are charged\n with violating treaty, law, or custom. So far as I can ascertain,\n your complaints are chiefly against the action and attitude of the\n missionaries of the Roman Catholic faith, and, as these are under\n the exclusive protection and control of the government of France, I\n might with great propriety decline to discuss _a matter with which the\n government of the United States has no direct interest or concern_,\n for the reason that none of its citizens are charged with violating\n treaty or local law, and thus causing trouble.\u201d\n\nAnd again, with equal truthfulness and appositeness, he adds:\n\n \u201cWhenever cases occur in which the missionaries overstep the bounds\n of decorum, or interfere in matters with which they have no proper\n concern, let each case be reported promptly to the minister of the\n country to which it belongs. Such isolated instances should not\n produce prejudice or engender hatred against those who observe their\n obligations, nor should sweeping complaints be made against all on\n this account. Those from the United States sincerely desire the\n reformation of those whom they teach, and to do this they urge the\n examination of the Holy Scriptures, wherein the great doctrines of the\n present and a future state, and also the resurrection of the soul, are\n set forth, with the obligation of repentance, belief in the Saviour,\n and the duties of man to himself and others. It is owing, in a great\n degree, to the prevalence of a belief in the truth of the Scriptures\n that Western nations have attained their power and prosperity.\u201d\n\nHaving thus, as he thought, directed the prejudice and hostility of the\nauthorities against the Catholics exclusively, and put in a good word\nfor the evangelizers; and assured them that, as far as the former were\nconcerned, the United States had no concern whatever, and by inference\nthat they might maltreat and murder as many of them as they pleased\nwithout let or hindrance from us, Mr. Low next proceeds to mislead his\ngovernment in a manner which may be diplomatic, but is certainly far\nfrom honorable.\n\nIn transmitting to the Department of State a translation of the rules\nalluded to, he remarks:\n\n \u201cA careful reading of the memorandum clearly proves that the great, if\n not only, cause of complaint against the missionaries comes from the\n action of the Roman Catholic priests and the native Christians of that\n faith; although the rules proposed for the government of missionaries\n apply equally to Protestants and Catholics.\u201d\n\n\u201cA careful reading\u201d of the document as translated under his auspices\nwould indeed seem to bear out Mr. Low\u2019s views, for it is filled with\ncomplaints and denunciations of \u201cRomanists,\u201d and the derivative\nadjective \u201cRomish\u201d is used with a freedom that would delight the heart\nof the most virulent _colporteur_. But, unfortunately, there was\nanother translation of the same document in England, and in it, behold,\nall the \u201cRomanists\u201d are turned into \u201cChristians\u201d![46] Even Mr. Davis,\nof the State Department, could not help noticing this discrepancy\nbetween the two papers, and in a letter dated Oct. 19, 1871, calls upon\nthe Peking minister for an explanation, which, of course, was never\ngiven, for the good reason that the deception was intentional. If, as\naccording to Blackstone, forgery consists in the material alteration\nof the body of a written instrument, as well as in the imitation or\nalteration of a signature, we fear our respected representative has\nbeen guilty of a very serious legal mistake. The assistant secretary\nwrites:\n\n \u201cTwo versions of these regulations have found their way to the\n Department\u2014the translation enclosed in your No. 56, and a translation\n apparently made from a French version presented to the houses of\n Parliament in Great Britain in June or July last, and printed in\n _British Blue-Book_, entitled \u201cChina, No. 3, 1871.\u201d These versions\n differ widely in form and expression, and, to some extent, in sense.\n\n \u201cThe version presented to Parliament has been or will be made the\n subject of instructions by her Majesty\u2019s government to Mr. Wade.\n A copy of these proposed instructions was communicated to this\n Department by her Majesty\u2019s _charg\u00e9_ at Washington in August last. A\n copy is herewith enclosed, and also a copy of the version to which\n they relate.\n\n \u201cThe most material variance between the two versions is in the\n designation of the missionaries against whom the Chinese Foreign\n Office complains. Your version limits the complaints to missionaries\n of the Roman Church. The British translation, following the French\n version, represents the complaints against \u2018Christians.\u2019 For instance,\n the British version renders the beginning of the first article or\n rule as follows: \u2018The Christians, when they found an orphanage, give\n no notice to the authorities, and appear to act with mystery.\u2019 Your\n translation of the same sentence reads: \u201cThe establishment of asylums\n for training up children by the Romanists has hitherto not been\n reported to the authorities, and as these institutions are carefully\n kept private,\u2019 etc., etc. From the English version of the accompanying\n note from the Yam\u00ean, it is evident that the Chinese Foreign Office\n recognizes that there are in China Christian missionaries of different\n faiths; for they say that \u2018the people in general, unaware of the\n difference which exists between Protestantism and Catholicism,\n confound these two religions under this latter denomination.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe sectarian views of the minister in Peking were ably seconded by his\nsubordinate, the consul-general at Shanghai. That official, Mr. G. F.\nSeward, under date August 22, 1871, sends to the Assistant-Secretary\nof State a cursory review of the general condition of China, and\na detailed account of the horrible massacre of Tientsin, June 21,\n1870; with a report of the trial and execution of some of the\nmiscreants engaged in it. His communication, as might be expected, is,\nwhenever possible, thoroughly anti-Catholic, filled with innuendos,\ninsinuations, and even broad statements against the missionaries of\nthat faith, and the Sisters of Charity; the usual elegant phrases\n\u201cRomish\u201d and \u201cRomanist\u201d being used at every opportunity. As a sample of\nthis _commercial_ agent\u2019s style and skill in the art of hinting a fault\nand hesitating dislike, we quote the following passages from his letter:\n\n \u201cVarious allegations have been made against Roman Catholic\n missionaries. It has been alleged that the bishop of one of the\n western provinces resides in a palace which vies with that of the\n viceroy; that he uses a palanquin decorated in a way allowed only to\n the highest officials of the empire; and that his progresses from\n one part of his diocese to another are made in a regal way. It has\n been asserted that the priests claim the right to correspond with the\n officials on terms of equality; that they combine with and arrange\n combinations among their converts to defeat the objects of the\n government; that they claim for their converts various unusual and\n objectionable immunities; that, in fact, they are building up a rule\n within the territorial rule which is very dangerous to the state. One\n who has studied the history of the Roman Church cannot be surprised\n when he hears that China is seriously alarmed; but we can estimate the\n actual danger more perfectly than she. Any exposition of her fears\n which she is likely to make will exhibit many puerilities. Yet we must\n admit that her statesmen would be unwise if they should fail to study\n the problems which the presence of the church presents.\u201d\n\nSo much for some of our diplomats in Asia. If they had been sent out\nby the Methodist missionary body or any other fanatical society, they\ncould not have shown more narrow-minded bigotry or less regard for the\nadvancement of religion and true civilization; but as representatives\nof this republic, where all are regarded as equal, and where the\ngeneral government is supposed to represent the interests of every\nclass and creed alike, it is not too much to say that they have been\nsadly recreant to the trust reposed in them.\n\nTurning over the pages of this voluminous collection of foreign\ncorrespondence from all parts of the world with the Department of\nState, we came upon the following curious despatch. It is dated Mexico,\nApril 29, 1871, signed by our minister, Mr. Thomas H. Nelson, and\nreferred to in the index as \u201cThe Spread of Protestantism\u201d:\n\n \u201cThe Protestant movement in Mexico has for the past year been making\n considerable progress, chiefly owing to the efforts of the American\n clergyman, Rev. H. Chauncey Reilly, a letter from whom upon this\n subject was forwarded by me, forming an enclosure to my No. 38, of\n August 9, 1869. There are now about fifty congregations or assemblies\n of Mexican Protestants in this city and vicinity, and an equal or\n greater number scattered throughout the country. Most of these\n assemblies still meet in private houses, though in some small places\n of the interior they form a numerical majority, and have, therefore,\n acquired possession of the parish churches. In this city, through the\n efforts and personal liberality of Mr. Reilly, the Protestants have\n acquired two fine churches of those which were secularized and sold by\n the government some years since; one of these is the former convent of\n San Francisco, the most magnificent as well as the first one erected\n in Mexico. It is now being repaired for its new use. The other is the\n commodious church of San Jos\u00e9 de Garcia, which, having been thoroughly\n repaired, was dedicated to the Protestant service on Sunday, the\n 23d instant, in the presence of an immense multitude. Two or three\n Catholic priests of some prominence have, within the past two or three\n months, joined the Protestant communion, and two of them have ventured\n upon the decisive step of matrimony. One of the recent converts,\n Father Manuel Auguas, formerly an eloquent preacher of the Dominican\n Order, has become the pastor of the new church. This event has caused\n a vigorous polemic in the newspapers of this city; the two papers\n considered especially Catholic have been filled with attacks upon the\n new religious movement, while most of the other papers have exhibited\n a commendable spirit of tolerance or even of good-will toward the\n Protestants. I enclose an interesting article upon this subject from\n the _Two Republics_ of to-day, translated from the _Federalista_, and\n written by M. Ignacio M. Altamirano, who is considered as the chief of\n the Mexican literary writers of the present day. Yours, etc.\u201d\n\nThis is the entire communication, no other subjects being touched upon;\nbut the matter seems of so much importance and of so great national\ninterest as to warrant the sapient Mr. Nelson in making it the basis\nof a special official despatch. Is this gentleman the envoy of the\nUnited States, or a commissioner appointed by some Bible or tract\nsociety to report on the \u201cspread of Protestantism\u201d in the neighboring\nrepublic, or does he unite the two characters in his own person? Does\nhe receive the public money for puffing the Rev. H. Chauncey Reilly,\nand transmitting his diatribes and the effusions of a certain M.\nAltamirano for preservation in the archives of the nation? If so, it is\ntime the public should know it. Mr. Nelson\u2019s letter, however, explains\nan incident that occurred in Washington a few years since. It was this:\nthe mission to Mexico was vacant, and it was applied for by a gentleman\nevery way qualified for the post. He was thoroughly educated, knew\nthe Spanish language well, and had served with high rank and marked\ndistinction during the late war. He was appointed by the President,\nand his nomination by the Senate was urged by several influential\ncitizens, including the then Secretary of State, the late Mr. Seward.\nThe committee of the Senate refused to report his name favorably, and,\nin reply to the query of the writer what objection could be urged\nagainst the applicant, a leading senator replied that \u201che understood\nhim to be a very violent (meaning practical) Catholic!\u201d The policy of\nthis gentleman, like that of many others at the national capital, was\nnot to send a Catholic to a Catholic country, but one who would report\non the \u201cspread of Protestantism,\u201d and doubtless, find materials for his\ndespatches.\n\nNor must we blame the government too severely for their injudicious\nsectarian appointments. Its views are but the reflex of popular\nopinion, and, as long as we tolerate bigotry and proscription in our\npopular elections, we must expect that those who are supposed to\nrepresent us will follow the bad example thus set them. The fault\nhitherto has been partly ours, and the remedy is in our own hands. This\nremedy consists in discountenancing all subsidized newspaper writers\nand demagogues whose abuse and slanders prevent good men from filling\nthe national and state councils; in trampling under foot all party and\nreligious prejudices, and invariably voting against those who would\nmaintain them; and by supporting for offices, both at home and abroad,\nonly those who will attend to the public business, and let sectarian\nmissionaries and the \u201cspread of Protestantism\u201d alone.\n\n\n\n\nA LEGEND OF S. MARTIN.\n\n\nAFTER many strifes and battles, and after having been for years\nAdministrator of Thrace, Asia, and Egypt, with Dacia and Macedonia,\nto which the dethroned and executed Emperor of the West, Gratian,\nhad appointed him, Theodosius I., the Roman emperor, returned from\nThessalonica, his former headquarters, to Constantinople.\n\nThe day was cold and stormy, and many a one of the emperor\u2019s suite\nwrapped his cloak closer around his shivering body, as the snowflakes\nfell thicker and faster, covering the road quickly in the white mantle\nof winter.\n\nThe troop had just entered a small village, when the emperor\u2019s horse\nwas stopped by a man miserably clad and trembling with cold.\n\nImpatient of the detention, Theodosius pressed his spurs into the sides\nof his steed, and flew past the wretched beggar.\n\nBut a knight called Martin, from Pannonia, who followed next, halted\nand looked pityingly upon the poor trembling form. Willingly would he\nhave given him money or clothing, but a soldier seldom has much to\ngive, and, except his hat and coat, the knight possessed nothing. One\nmoment only he reflected, and the next he drew forth his sword, and cut\nin two the large cloak hanging over his shoulders. Handing the one half\nto the beggar, and wrapping himself closely in the other, he followed\nthe emperor with lightning speed, without listening to the words of\nblessing which fell from the lips of the mendicant.\n\nAfter the sun had set, the emperor and his followers took quarters for\nthe night.\n\nAll had gone to rest, and Knight Martin also had laid himself down,\nand soon was fast asleep. Shortly, however, he felt as if his eyes\nwere forced open by a most brilliant and dazzling light. He sat up,\nand perceived at his feet a man upon whose head was a crown of thorns.\nShining angels surrounded him, and the mantle which Martin had given to\nthe beggar hung around his shoulders. Pointing to it, he asked S. Peter\n(who stood by his side) in sweet and gentle voice: \u201cDo you see this\nmantle?\u201d\n\n\u201cFrom whom did you receive it?\u201d S. Peter questioned.\n\n\u201cFrom Martin here,\u201d was the reply, given in a heavenly voice, his\nfinger pointing at the same time to the astonished soldier. \u201cRise, my\nson,\u201d he then continued\u2014and his angelic smile was ravishing to the\neyes of Martin\u2014\u201cI have chosen thee henceforth to be my servant. Until\nnow thou hast been a blind heathen: thou shalt now become a shining\nlight in my army. Put up thy sword; thou shalt be a soldier of God.\u201d\nAnd then Martin knew that it was the Lord himself who spake to him.\n\nAn angel kissed the mantle\u2019s border\u2014and Martin awoke.\n\nThe morning broke. He rose quickly, and left the place, never resting,\nnever stopping, until he had reached the portal of a cloister; there he\nknocked and entered.\n\nSoon he became famous for his goodness and piety, and, as bishop,\nserved his Master with spiritual rather than material weapons.\n\n\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n\n MY CLERICAL FRIENDS, AND THEIR RELATION TO MODERN THOUGHT.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\nWe are glad to announce the publication of the American edition of this\nwork, our previous notice having been based upon the advance sheets of\nthe English edition.\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society has done good service to religion by\nits handsome edition of this most important book. It is divided into\nfour chapters, which treat of \u201cThe Vocation of the Clergy,\u201d \u201cThe Clergy\nat Home,\u201d \u201cThe Clergy Abroad,\u201d and \u201cThe Clergy and Modern Thought.\u201d\nUnder these divisions, the distinguished author has grouped together\na most interesting series of facts and arguments which cannot fail to\ncarry conviction to any honest mind. He deals principally with what may\nbe called the advanced clergy of the Anglican Church, shows their real\nposition in the present state of controversy, and the utter absurdity\nof their claims. If there is anything properly called ridiculous, it\nis the aspect of a small portion of a sect pretending to be that which\nevery one else in the world denies them to be, and flaunting their\nprofessions to the entire denial of history, tradition, and even common\nsense. Our Ritualistic friends have no regard for anything in the past,\npresent, or future but themselves, and, therefore, they cannot be\nreasoned with. Their half-way house may be a stopping-place for a time\nfor honest hearts, but no sincere mind can rest there, for Almighty\nGod never leaves the true in mind without the assistance of his grace\nor the use of their natural faculties. We commend this book to all in\nthe Anglican communion who desire to look facts in the face or to save\ntheir souls. And we beg in all charity to tell them that they cannot\nsave their souls without sacrifice. If they prefer to keep this world,\nthey will lose the next. There may be in our author\u2019s clear and bright\npresentation of truth something that may seem to them harsh or severe.\nWe can assure them that there is no kinder heart than that of our\ndistinguished friend, the author; but he has such keen perceptions of\nright and wrong that he cannot fail to put, with telling effect, the\nabsurdity of their religious position. And deny it as they may, and\nperhaps will, the whole world appreciates the inconsistency of their\nactions with their professions. Kind people pity them, while worldly\npeople laugh at them.\n\nBeginning with the theory that the _one_ church of God can be divided,\nwhich is a contradiction in terms, they claim to be a _branch_ of\nsomething that confessedly can have no branches. Then, they are not\nsimply a branch, but a _branch of a branch_. And the branch of which\nthey form part renounces them, and casts them out, but they will not be\ncast out. Their mother, the Church of England, does not know herself as\nthese her children do. Then, there is one thing they can hang on to the\nlast, even if everything else fails. They were admitted to apostolical\nordination by _Barlow_, whom they will have a bishop, though there is\nno proof whatever that he was one, and while he himself denied the\nnecessity or the virtue of the sacrament of order. \u201cIf schism,\u201d as Dr.\nNewman says, \u201cdepends on the mere retention of the Episcopal order,\nthere never was and there never will be a schism,\u201d for bishops are\nas likely to be corrupted as priests. But the truth is, nobody ever\npretended to any apostolical succession in the English Church until the\nDissenters became so strong that, out of opposition to them, \u201ca few\nAnglican prelates began to talk of pretensions which, during several\ngenerations, they had treated as a jest and a fable.\u201d \u201cAccording to\nBarlow, an English bishop could dispense with orders; and, according\nto Cranmer, with grace.\u201d There was no pretence of any doctrine of\npriesthood on the part of the _founders_ of the Church of England, and\nsurely these intelligent men ought to have known what they intended to\ndo. Hooker is one of their greatest defenders, and he expressly denies\nthe necessity of Episcopal ordination. \u201cBeing about to appear before\nGod, he sent\u2014not for an Anglican minister\u2014but for his friend Saravia,\nand accepted from his unconsecrated hands those quasi-sacramental rites\nwhich, according to Ritualistic views, he had no power to dispense.\u201d\nThese divines were the faithful interpreters of the mind of their\nchurch.\n\n \u201c\u2018It is quite clear,\u2019 observes Bishop Tomline, expounding the 25th\n Article, \u2018that the words of the Article do not maintain the necessity\n of episcopal ordination.\u2019 Bishop Hall, again, though he wrote a\n well-known book in defence of episcopacy, gave up the whole question\n when he said: \u2018Blessed be God, _there is no difference_, in any\n essential matter, betwixt the Church of England and _her sisters of\n the Reformation_.\u2019 And this was the language even of men who had\n written the most earnest apologies for episcopal government. They\n never attempted to maintain that the apostolical succession was\n necessary to the integrity of a church. Thus Bramhall said, with\n easy composure: \u2018The ordination of our first Protestant bishops was\n _legal_,\u2019 _i.e._ it had the royal sanction; \u2018and for the _validity_ of\n it, we crave no man\u2019s favor.\u2019 Andrewes is a more important witness.\n Though Ritualists may not approve his subservience to that robust\n theologian, James I., he is still held in honor among them as almost\n a High-Church prelate, and is regarded as the most imposing figure of\n his time. Yet Andrewes, on their own principles, was as flagrant a\n betrayer of the doctrine of the Christian priesthood, if he ever held\n it, as Hooker himself, or even as Barlow or Whittaker. He not only\n gave the Anglican sacrament to a Swiss Protestant, Isaac Casaubon, but\n related afterwards, with impassioned and approving eloquence, that his\n friend died loudly professing with his latest breath the strictest\n tenets of the Calvinists of Geneva.\u201d\n\nThere are many other points that will attract the attention of the\nreader, and which we cannot speak of in this short notice. The last\nchapter, upon \u201cThe Clergy and Modern Thought,\u201d is particularly adapted\nto the superficial age in which we live, and answers all the objections\nwhich are made by the really shallow thinkers who, according to the\nlanguage of the apostle, \u201cprofessing themselves to be wise, have become\nfools.\u201d\n\nWe bespeak for this most interesting and instructive book a large\ncirculation and many attentive readers, who will unite with us in\nthanking the accomplished author for the pleasure and profit they have\nreceived from him. May God grant him yet many years to live in which to\ndo good with his able pen!\n\nThe following letter of the author, correcting a mistake into which he\nhad fallen, appeared in the London _Tablet_ of February 8:\n\n\n\u201cMR. LECKY AND \u2018MY CLERICAL FRIENDS.\u201d\n\n  \u201c_To the Editor of the Tablet_:\n\n \u201cSIR: I am assured by friends of Mr. Lecky, the well-known\n author of the histories of _Rationalism in Europe_ and of _European\n Morals_, that I have misunderstood a passage in the latter work, and\n attributed to the distinguished writer sentiments which he disavows.\n Mr. Lecky has displayed in his remarkable writings such unusual\n candor, and even, in spite of much that is painful to a Christian,\n such elevation of thought, that to do him wilful injustice is a fault\n of which no Catholic ought to be capable. I ask your permission,\n therefore, to make the following explanation.\n\n \u201cThe passage which I am said to have misunderstood is this: \u2018Had the\n Irish peasants been less chaste, they would have been more prosperous.\n Had that fearful famine, which in the present century desolated\n the land, fallen upon a people who thought more of accumulating\n subsistence than of avoiding sin, multitudes might now be living who\n perished by literal starvation.\u2019 Interpreting these words by the\n light of other statements of the same author, and especially by his\n announcement that \u2018_utility_ is perhaps the highest motive to which\n reason can attain,\u2019 they seemed to me, as they seemed to all whom I\n have been able to consult, to bear only one meaning. I was mistaken.\n They really meant, I now learn, \u2018that the habit of early marriages in\n a nation is detrimental to its economical prosperity.\u2019 I am further\n reminded that Mr. Lecky has written admirably on the grace of chastity\n which adorns the Irish nation, and could not, therefore, have wished\n to say that sin is a less evil than famine and destitution.\n\n \u201cI am too familiar with the writings of Mr. Lecky, which I have read\n more than once, and always with extreme interest, not to recognize his\n great moral superiority over the contemporary school of Rationalists.\n The study of his books has even created in me a strong personal\n sympathy for the writer. In quoting him frequently, I think I have\n manifested this feeling. But if I have done him injustice in the case\n referred to, I regret that he did not more carefully guard himself\n from a misapprehension which was purely involuntary, and into which\n others fell who share my admiration of his candor and ability. I have\n only to add that, if the opportunity should occur, I will suppress the\n passage to which Mr. Lecky\u2019s friends have called my attention. Yours\n faithfully,\n\n \u201cTHE AUTHOR OF \u2018MY CLERICAL FRIENDS.\u2019\u201d\n\n\n SERMONS ON ECCLESIASTICAL SUBJECTS. By Henry Edward,\n Archbishop of Westminster. American Edition. Vol. II. New York: The\n Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\nThis dauntless champion of the faith is once more in the field. In\nthe present volume, the great Archbishop of England presents himself\nin that which is his special character and vocation, to wit, as the\ndefender of the rights and doctrines maintained and promulgated by\nPius IX. in the face of his enemies and of some timid or misguided\npersons among his friends. The sermons are not all new ones, since they\nrange in time from 1866 to 1872; but as now collected they make a new\nwhole out of previously separate parts belonging to one great theme,\nthe rights of the Holy See and the church as opposed to the nefarious\nsystem of modern liberalism. The masterpiece of the volume is, however,\nthe Introduction, a most able and eloquent analysis and confutation\nof the principles of the revolutionary party in Europe which aims at\nthe overthrow of the Catholic Church and of the Christian religion.\nArchbishop Manning has done immense service to religion, and his power\nseems to have been continually and steadily increasing since he first\nentered the lists as a champion of the true church. Before the Council\nof the Vatican, he was one of those who contributed most efficaciously\nto the preparation of the greatest event of this age, the definition\nof the dogma of Papal Infallibility, by which Gallicanism, the mother\nerror of that brood of false doctrines condemned in the Syllabus of\n1864, was destroyed. During and since the Council he has combated these\nerrors with equal ability and courage, and seconded the great Pope, who\nnow fills the place of Christ on the earth, by re-echoing the divine\nharmonies of his doctrine through the English-speaking world. It is\nmost important that all our educated laity should be thoroughly imbued\nwith this pure and saving doctrine, in which alone is contained, not\nonly the salvation of the soul, but of sound science, of nations, of\nsociety, and of all human interests. We know of no such thorough and\nperfect interpreter of Pius IX., the infallible teacher of the nations,\nin the English language, as the Archbishop of Westminster. His writings\nare those which ought especially to be circulated and read among the\neducated laity, as the exposition of that truth which is the special\nantidote to the fatal errors of the times. They are especially suitable\nfor this purpose, because they are the writings of a bishop; and it\nis to the priests of the church, and especially to the chief priests\nand pastors, to whom is committed the office not only of teaching the\nfaithful personally, but of giving to the writings of the subordinate\nclergy and of learned laymen the only canonical sanction which they\npossess, that the laity are to look for instruction in sound doctrine\nunder the supreme authority of the Holy See. The private opinions of\na bishop have, indeed, no more weight than is given them by their\nargumentative value. This is always very great in the writings of\nArchbishop Manning, who is accustomed to sustain his positions by a\nvery great force of evidence and reasoning. But a still greater merit\nof his writings is found in the fact, that he never obtrudes his\nprivate opinions as Catholic doctrine, or goes beyond the mark placed\nby the authority of the church or the common teaching of approved\ntheologians. Not only does he avoid extenuating, but he equally\navoids exaggerating statements respecting Catholic doctrine. And,\nmoreover, although of uncompromising strictness in his orthodoxy, and\napostolic severity in his language respecting contumacious heretics\nand rebels against divine authority, he is considerate and gentle\ntowards those whose errors may, in charity, be regarded as excusable.\nIn this respect, his writings are a model for those who undertake the\nadvocacy of the great Catholic truths which are opposed to the errors\nof the day. May God preserve the worthy successor of the great English\ncardinal to see the triumph of the church in the land of S. Edward and\nS. Thomas of Canterbury!\n\n\n LENTEN THOUGHTS: Drawn from the Gospel for Each Day of Lent.\n By the Bishop of Northampton. New York: The Catholic Publication\n Society. 1873.\n\nWe recommend this little book to all who wish to spend the season of\nLent in conformity with the spirit and intention of the church. The\nstyle is simple and chaste; the thoughts are elevated and suggestive.\nThere is, too, an air of serenity and even cheerfulness about the book\nwhich we cannot but consider as in perfect accord with the true nature\nof penance as understood by the church:\n\n  \u201cChords that vibrate sweetest pleasure\n  Thrill the deepest notes of woe.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen you fast, be not as the hypocrites, sad,\u201d says the church to her\nchildren on Ash-Wednesday, re-echoing through the ages the words of her\ndivine Spouse.\n\n\n MEDITATIONS FOR THE USE OF THE CLERGY, for Every Day in the\n Year, on the Gospels for the Sundays. From the Italian of Mgr. Scotti,\n Archbishop of Thessalonica. Revised and Edited by the Oblates of S.\n Charles. With a Preface by His Grace the Archbishop of Westminster.\n Vol. I. From the First Sunday in Advent to the Sixth Saturday after\n the Epiphany. London: Burns & Oates. 1872. (New York: Sold by The\n Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nThe remaining three volumes of this work, we are told, may be looked\nfor in the course of the present year. The whole will form a manual of\nmeditations for priests to which we have seen nothing comparable. That\nsuch a work is needed who will deny? For if any one ought to meditate,\nit is a priest; and how few books of meditation in our language are\nat all what he wants! Of the present compilation, then, his grace the\nArchbishop of Westminster, in his prefatorial letter to his clergy,\nsays: \u201cIn dedicating to you this first part of Scotti\u2019s _Meditations\nfor the Clergy_, I need only add that it is a book held in high esteem\nat Rome. Having found by the experience of many years its singular\nexcellence, its practical piety, its abundance of Scripture, of the\nfathers, and of ecclesiastical writers, I have thought that it would be\nan acceptable and valuable addition to your books of devotion.\u201d\n\nAfter this recommendation, let us simply express a wish that the work\nmay become known to every priest who speaks the English language.\nAnd again let us thank the good Oblate Fathers for one of the most\nestimable services they have ever done for religion.\n\n\n S. ANSELM\u2019S BOOK OF MEDITATIONS AND PRAYERS. Translated\n from the Latin by M. R. With a Preface by His Grace the Archbishop\n of Westminster. London: Burns & Oates. 1872. (New York: Sold by The\n Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nThese meditations differ very much from ordinary compositions with\nthat name. They are divided into brief sections, a single one of which\nwill suffice the devout soul for a whole day\u2019s food. There is nothing\nstiff and formal, nothing meagre, nothing dry. While, together with\nhoneyed colloquies\u2014now with ourself, now with God or the saints\u2014there\nis a deep philosophy in a very simple guise. We are, therefore, most\ngrateful for such an addition to our devotional literature.\n\n\n THE \u2018OLD CATHOLICS\u2019 AT COLOGNE. New York: J. A. McGee. 1873\n\nThis clever _jeu d\u2019esprit_ is by the brother of Dr. T. W. M. Marshall,\nwho was one of the joint authors of the _Comedy of Convocation_. It is\na little coarse in some parts, too much so for our taste, and in this\nrespect inferior to the famous _Comedy_, which was unexceptionable\nin that respect. Nevertheless, it has a great likeness in some of\nits salient points to that remarkable piece of logical sarcasm. The\nargument is unanswerable, and very cleverly put; and terrible as the\nridicule is which is heaped on the Janus clique, whose final fiasco\nwas made at Cologne, they deserve it richly; for never was there a more\nabsurd as well as detestable little generation of vipers among the\nwhole of the noxious brood of heretics who in various ages have hissed\nagainst the decrees of the \u0152cumenical Councils. We can assure all\nreaders that they will be amused and instructed by this brochure.\n\n\n S\u0152UR EUG\u00c9NIE: The Life and Letters of a Sister of Charity.\n Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. 1873.\n\nThe subject of this memoir was a French lady of rank, brought up a\nProtestant, but converted in early life to the Catholic faith. It is\nan interesting, edifying, and well-written, as well as beautifully\nprinted, little book, not at all commonplace, but with the freshness of\nunusual incidents told in the charming style which belongs to modern\nEnglish literature of the best class.\n\nThere is something very attractive in the French character when\nunperverted by scepticism and frivolity. The energy, zeal, and\nenthusiasm they throw into their work for God are very captivating to\ncolder natures. And the higher one ascends in the social scale, the\nmore decided, apparently, do these traits become. Whereas, in other\nnationalities, prosperity and position frequently have a deleterious\neffect; they often bring a Frenchman\u2019s better qualities into higher\nrelief. In the religious orders, many illustrious examples of this\nremark may be found\u2014of men brought up in ease and affluence who have\nadopted the mortified life of missionaries, braved every danger, and\ncourted death itself, if thereby they could win some souls for Christ.\nThe French nuns and Sisters of Charity have also been preeminent, as\nthe unwritten history of the late war alone would demonstrate. The\ncharitable spirit which lies at the foundation of that suavity and\ngrace too often characterized as surface politeness, peculiarly fits\nthem for the delicate and trying duties they assume.\n\nIn the subject of this memoir we recognize the same winning\ncharacteristics to which we have adverted. Of high birth, she left all\nwhich usually attracts youthful ambition for a life of self-abnegation\nand charity. The name Eug\u00e9nie, already endeared to thoughtful readers\nthrough the _Letters_ and _Journal of Mlle. de Gu\u00e9rin_ (for we learn\nto appreciate a character full as much through the productions of the\nsubject as by the portrayal of others), will receive new lustre from\nthe memoirs of another saintly wearer. Such a record, though simple, is\nfull of beauty and edification to those who follow in the same path, as\nwell as those whose sphere of duty, though lying in the world, is yet\nelevated above it.\n\n\n TRUTH AND ERROR. By the Rev. H. A. Brann, D.D. New York: D. &\n J. Sadlier & Co. 1873.\n\nThis book is of small size, but on an important subject, viz., the\nnature and sources of certitude. It is clear, logical, sound, and\nwritten in a good style. As an antidote to the wretched, poisonous\ntrash sold under the name of philosophy, which is nothing but\nmethodical scepticism and materialism, this little book must do\ngood if it is read and understood by those who have need of it. The\nunhappy intellectual vagrants of our day are afflicted with the two\ngreat miseries which poor \u201cJo\u201d complained of: \u201cNot knowing nothink,\nand starwation.\u201d Jo often sadly muttered to himself, \u201cI don\u2019t know\n_nothink_!\u201d Mr. Bain and all that set are so many Joes, repeating for\never, \u201cI don\u2019t know nothink, you don\u2019t know nothink, nobody don\u2019t and\nnobody can\u2019t know nothink.\u201d The sophist of K\u00f6nigsberg was a Jo of\ngenius, nothing more. Dr. Brann will give a substantial breakfast to\nany one of these hungry Joes who will read his book.\n\n\n AUNT JO\u2019S SCRAP-BOOK. Vol. II. Shawl-Straps. By Louisa M.\n Alcott, author of _Little Women_, _An Old-fashioned Girl_, _Little\n Men_, _Hospital Sketches_. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1872.\n\nThis book is written in a light, trifling, flippant style, which may be\nvery pleasant and appropriate when used to describe certain things, but\nwhen applied indiscriminately to all that one sees abroad, it certainly\nis not agreeable, to say the least of it. Neither is it pleasant, in\na book of travels, to find that nothing is considered true, or even\nworthy of respect, unless the _author_ believes in it. A Mass at S.\nMark\u2019s, Venice, is described in this way: \u201cThe patriarch was a fat\nold soul in red silk, even to his shoes and holy pocket-handkerchief;\nand the service appeared to consist in six purple priests dressing\nand undressing him like an old doll, while a dozen white-gowned boys\ndroned up in a gold cockloft, and many beggars whined on the floor\nbelow.\u201d A visit to the Carthusian Convent, Pavia, calls forth the\nfollowing comment: \u201cA nice way for lazy men to spend their lives, when\nthere is so much work to be done for the Lord and his poor! Wanted\nto shake them all round,\u201d etc. In the description of the inundation\nof parts of the city of Rome we read: \u201cLivy indulged the sinful hope\nthat the pope would get his pontifical petticoats very wet, be a\nlittle drowned and terribly scared by the flood, because he spoiled\nthe Christmas festivities,\u201d etc. Victor Emmanuel is spoken of as \u201cthe\nhonest man,\u201d with the remark that \u201cthat is high praise for a king.\u201d\nSuch expressions as \u201csullen old gentleman in the Vatican,\u201d \u201csilly\nMadonna,\u201d and others of the same character, enliven the pages in\nvarious places.\n\nWe can scarcely believe that this book is from the same pen as _Little\nWomen_, and we think it would be far better, when one is only willing\nto see things through their ignorance and prejudices, not to attempt to\nmake others see with their eyes.\n\n\n GOD OUR FATHER. By a Father of the Society of Jesus, author\n of _The Happiness of Heaven_. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1873.\n\nAfter reading this little book, we felt an ardent desire to tell\neverybody we had found a treasure. Its title, a rather unusual thing\nnowadays, is the true exponent of its contents. That God is our\nFather\u2014our kind, indulgent, beneficent, merciful, loving Father\u2014it\nproves as we have never seen proved before. We do think, if Voltaire\nhad seen this little treatise, he would not have called God a \u201ctyrant\nand the father of tyrants,\u201d and he, Voltaire, would not have been a\nfool and the father of a generation of fools. Some Christians other\nthan Calvinists are accustomed to regard God as a stern judge or an\nexacting master, ignoring altogether his parental relationship. This\nway of regarding God not unfrequently produces a morbid spirituality,\nif not worse. Under its baneful influence, the soul is parched up and\nrendered incapable of any other sentiment than that of fear. It is true\nthat \u201cfear is the beginning of wisdom\u201d; but it is no less true that\n\u201clove is the fulfilment of the law\u201d and the sublime summary of the new\ndispensation. And who can love a being whom he sees only in the light\nof a stern judge, an exacting master? God, as he is represented in this\nwork, is a being whom you cannot but love. In very truth, the author\nhimself must love much, or he could never write so eloquently of divine\nlove.\n\nTo all Catholics who look with a filial confidence to God, and love him\nas their Father, we recommend this book as a means of strengthening\ntheir confidence and increasing their love. To those Catholics,\nhappily few, who see in God only a rigid master, we prescribe the\nperusal of this work as the best remedy for their dangerous disease.\nTo our separated brethren, who want to get a Christian idea of our\ncommon Father, we would respectfully suggest the careful study of this\ntreatise; they will find it sufficiently scriptural and sufficiently\nsimple for their tastes.\n\nWe cannot, perhaps, pay the publishers a higher compliment than by\nsaying that the setting is in every way worthy of the gem.\n\n\n LECTURES ON THE PRINCIPAL DOCTRINES AND PRACTICES OF THE CATHOLIC\n CHURCH. By Cardinal Wiseman. New York: P. O\u2019Shea.\n\nThese two volumes belong to the uniform series of Cardinal Wiseman\u2019s\nworks now being issued by Mr. O\u2019Shea, and, as we understand, are\nprinted from the same plates as the one-volume edition heretofore\nissued by Kelly, Piet & Co.\n\nIt is a strong evidence of the permanent interest which attaches\nto Catholic doctrine\u2014the faith ever ancient, ever new\u2014that these\nlectures are read now with almost equal avidity with that which greeted\ntheir appearance almost forty years ago, while as many weeks suffice to\nlay on the shelf the productions of many a popular preacher of the day.\n\nThis course constituted the _Lent_ at S. Mary\u2019s, Moorfields, in 1836,\nwhen the Oxford movement had already acquired considerable headway, and\nthe public mind was alive to the subjects discussed. In view of the\naudience which he addressed, they were doubtless prepared with great\ncare, and may therefore be considered most favorable specimens of the\ndistinguished author\u2019s style.\n\nOne is struck, in looking over Cardinal Wiseman\u2019s works, by the fact of\nthe singular diversity of his gifts, and his preeminence in the varied\nfields of research and discussion\u2014as if he had made each a specialty.\nHis _Lectures on the Connection of Science and Religion_, delivered the\npreceding year, has maintained a position in the front rank of works\ndevoted to that subject, and may be said to have become obsolete only\nin so far as science has presented new phenomena and discoveries for\nelucidation; while the present work has remained, to our thinking,\nthe most exhaustive popular exposition of Catholic doctrine in the\nlanguage. His more elaborate historical and critical essays have\nattracted marked attention, and been thought worthy of publication in\nseparate volumes, while his distinctively belles-lettres works have\nenjoyed almost universal favor. His _Fabiola_ confessedly stands at the\nhead of Christian fiction. It is a little remarkable that _The Hidden\nGem_, and one of the most acute critiques of the day upon Shakespeare,\nshould have been the production of one who it is fair to infer scarcely\never-witnessed an acted drama.\n\nThe same house has brought out in similar style the _Four Lectures on\nthe Offices and Ceremonies of Holy Week_ by the same author, which we\nhope will prove a valuable aid to the intelligent participation in\nthe devotions of the present season. The interest in the Lectures is\nenhanced by the fact that they were delivered at Rome, and relate to\nthe ceremonies in the Papal chapels.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society will publish in a few days, from\nadvance sheets, a new work by the author of _My Clerical Friends_,\nentitled _Church Defence: Report on the Present Dangers of the Church_.\n\n\nAN ERROR RECTIFIED.\n\n_Card of the Editor of The Catholic World._\n\nAN error in respect to a matter of Catholic faith into which the\nauthor of an article in our last number inadvertently fell, and which\nescaped my notice until it was too late to make any earlier correction,\nrequires me to make the present explanation. I do it for the sake of\nthe reverend gentleman who first animadverted upon this erroneous\nstatement, and for others at a distance who are not in a position to\nknow personally the utter impossibility of any statement bordering on\n\u201cGallicanism\u201d being admitted into THE CATHOLIC WORLD with the\nknowledge of the editor. The passage in question is as follows, and is\nfound on p. 784: \u201cWho can wonder if the Church, in this dire emergency,\n_delegates to one man_ the power she can no longer collectively\nexercise in peace?\u201d The mistake of the writer, who is a lay Catholic\nand not a theologian, is very excusable. The responsibility for the\ndoctrine of the articles published rests exclusively with me, as the\neditor in the absence of the Very Rev. F. Hecker. If any statement\nwhich is contrary to Catholic doctrine or sound theology is allowed\nto pass in any article, it is by accident, and any reverend gentleman\nor layman who notices anything of the kind will oblige me by sending\na communication to me directly, pointing out the error. Any such\ncommunication will receive due attention from myself or from the\neditor-in-chief, when he is in town and able to attend personally to\nthe duties of his office. In this connection, I take occasion to remark\nthat another worthy clergyman, entirely unknown to me, who has recently\nexpressed himself as aggrieved by the remarks of THE CATHOLIC\nWORLD upon Italy, has wholly misapprehended their intention.\nThe articles on this subject which have appeared have been generally\nwritten by myself, or prepared under my direction. I have no hostility\nexcept against the wicked party which tyrannizes over the Catholic\npeople of Italy, and would with pleasure have admitted the letter of\nthe Italian missionary, pleading the cause of his country, to the\ncolumns of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. It is the aim of the editors\nof THE CATHOLIC WORLD to make it Catholic in its spirit and\ntone of charity and courtesy, as well as orthodox in doctrine, and\nto remember that it becomes those who profess a special loyalty to\nthe Holy Father to pay attention to _all_ his admonitions, especially\nto that one in which he gave such an emphatic warning against the\nviolation of charity by those who are very zealous for his authority.\n\n  AUGUSTINE F. HEWIT, C.S.P.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 98.\u2014MAY, 1873.\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\nI. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EVOLUTION OF LIFE.[47]\n\n\nTHE question of the origin of species\u2014the question, namely, whether\nthe vegetable and animal species now on the earth, and those which from\nthe study of its strata we know to be extinct, were in the beginning\ncalled into existence by the direct creative _fiat_, and substantially\nwith the forms they now have; or whether they have been developed\nfrom other and pre-existing beings with forms essentially different\nfrom their own, in obedience to natural law\u2014is one upon which, since\nCharles Darwin published the first edition of his book upon the\nsubject, now about twelve years ago, much has been said. We may add\nthat the answer given to it by Mr. Darwin has been much misunderstood.\nIt has been misunderstood in _itself_ by those who would not take the\ntrouble to inquire in what its precise merits consisted: how much of\ncertainty, and how much of mere theory, it contained; what facts or\nseries of facts, if admitted, it was incompetent to throw light upon;\nand whether there were any facts, botanical or zoological, in conflict\nand irreconcilable with it. It has been misunderstood, too, _in its\nbearings on revelation_, and that by two classes of men: on the one\nhand, by mere scientists, for the reason that they knew nothing of\ntheology, and were therefore not in a way to decide whether the Bible\nand the theory of development are compatible with each other; and,\non the other, by well-intentioned advocates of Christianity, because\nfrequently they knew nothing of science in general\u2014little of this\nquestion, and the precise meaning and worth of Darwin\u2019s answer to\nit in particular. The former have been at fault in asserting that a\nscience\u2014theology, Catholic theology, we mean, is a science\u2014of which\nthey knew nothing did not harmonize with a hypothesis of which they\nknew perhaps all that is to be known; the latter, in not acknowledging\ndistinctly the grain of truth or of certainty contained in the\nspeculations of Darwin.\n\nThe question is an interesting one, and has accordingly called forth\na large literature in England, Germany, France, and Italy. Mr.\nChapman\u2019s book is, we believe, the only one written in this country,\nand professedly devoted to the advocacy of the theory that, to use the\nauthor\u2019s own words, \u201cthe development of the higher forms of life from\nthe lower has been brought about by natural selection, and that man has\ndescended from a lower extinct form of which the gorilla and chimpanzee\nare the nearest living representatives\u201d\u2014which is Darwinism pure and\nsimple, and which ought to be distinguished from the more general\ntheory of \u201cevolution.\u201d That Mr. Chapman\u2019s book has been published in\nAmerica, and that we wish to say a few words on the question which it\ntreats, and especially on the bearings of that question on revealed\nreligion, constitute its only claims on our attention; for neither the\nstyle of the writer nor the lucidity of his argument, much less its\noriginality, entitles it to any particular notice. The work is a mere\ncompilation, which, however, may be of service to those who desire to\npossess in a convenient shape the facts, and to examine the nature of\nthe reasoning, by which the Darwinian hypothesis is supported.\n\nWhen we have said this, and that Mr. Chapman devotes a chapter of\nhis book to the argument from zoology, geology, embryology, etc.,\nrespectively, in favor of Darwinism; that these arguments are neither\nas elegant, scholarly, or cogent as they might be made; that he has\nfollowed the materialists of Germany in their version of the theory,\nand further than there is even the shadow of a warrant to follow it, we\nhave said all that we wish to say about his book, and bestowed upon it\nthe highest praise it is in our power to bestow consistently with truth.\n\nWhat our views on the Darwinian theory are will appear in the sequel.\nHere we wish simply to say a few words on certain doctrines drawn\nfrom it by Mr. Chapman, or, if not drawn from it, associated with it\nboth by him and others\u2014doctrines which, in our view, are not part\nand parcel of it because mere assumptions in no way countenanced by\nfacts. Thus, Mr. Chapman desires us expressly to understand that\n\u201cnatural selection,\u201d the meaning of which we will explain in a\nmoment, does not imply the existence of a \u201cnatural selector\u201d; and\nthis, without any forced interpretation, may be construed into a\nprofession of atheism. Now, as we will see a little further on, the\nadmission of the Darwinian theory does not necessarily lead to any\nsuch conclusion. Again, he informs us, p. 14, that life is only a\n\u201cphysical phenomenon, and that the nervous system produces ideas and\nall the acts of intelligence\u201d\u2014which is rank materialism. That Mr.\nChapman advocates fatalism is no less plain, for he assures us that\nmorality is necessarily progressive. On the last page of his book, he\ndefines morals to be \u201cduty to one\u2019s self.\u201d We confess that we do not\nunderstand how he reconciles his assertion that morality is necessarily\nprogressive with his definition of morals. It seems to us that, if\nnecessarily moral, men will necessarily do their duty; or rather,\nthey will have no duty to do, since necessity and duty exclude each\nother. According to this theory, there can be no distinction between\ngood and evil, and all the crimes that are committed are the necessary\nconsequences of man\u2019s origin. Indeed, the author tells us, p. 180:\n\u201cCrimes and outrages are committed even among the most civilized,\nsimply, in the words of Mr. Spencer, because man \u2018partially retains the\ncharacteristics that adapted him for an antecedent state. The respects\nin which he is not fitted to society are the respects in which he is\nfitted for his original predatory life. His primitive circumstances\nrequired that he should sacrifice the welfare of other beings to his\nown; his present circumstances require that he should not do so; and in\nas far as his old attribute still clings to him, in so far he is unfit\nfor the social state. All sins of men against each other, from the\ncannibalism of the Carib to the crimes and venalities we see around us,\nhave their causes comprehended under this generalization.\u2019\u201d\n\nNow, if all this be so, we cannot see why murder, or robbery, or any\nother crime, is not perfectly legitimate. If to the exercise of his\n\u201cold attributes\u201d in the struggle for existence man owes his \u201csurvival\u201d\nand his place among the fittest, in any degree, however small; and\nif there be nothing in man not produced by natural selection, we\ncannot see why he should not even now continue the exercise of these\n\u201cattributes\u201d; in other words, we do not see why any propensity,\npassion, or inclination originated by the agency of \u201cnatural\nselection,\u201d to the exclusion of all other agencies, cannot legitimately\nbe exercised to the full extent to which \u201cnatural selection\u201d has\ndeveloped it. If man exercises these \u201cattributes\u201d simply in obedience\nto a law of nature, we should not if we could, nor could we if we\nwould, resist them. If, indeed, these views of morality be correct,\nthen might is right, the Decalogue a code against nature, civilization\nan abnormal condition for man, and barbarism his only true state.\n\nSo much for the atheism, materialism, and fatalism, we do not say of\nDarwin\u2014for we have reason to believe that that gentleman himself is\nnone of these\u2014but of Mr. Chapman\u2019s version of evolution. There is\none very important point, however, on which Mr. Darwin, the man of\nscience, and the compiler, Mr. Chapman, are at one\u2014a point of very\ngreat consideration because of its bearings on revelation\u2014the doctrine\nthat the difference between man and the lower animals is not one of\n\u201ckind,\u201d but of \u201cdegree.\u201d We do not wish to argue this point here in\nfull. What we wish to say is that men of the school of Darwin, etc.,\nshould be the very last persons in the world to make an assertion of\nthis character, for the reason that they confine our knowledge to\nappearances, to phenomena. The question, however, whether man and the\nlower animals differ in \u201ckind\u201d or only in \u201cdegree\u201d is not a question of\nphenomena or appearances: it is a question of _noumena_, of essence, of\nreality. We do not grant that even appearances warrant the assertion\nthat man differs from the lower animals in nothing essential. There\nare appearances which forbid any such conclusion. But we maintain\nthat, whether they so differ or not, Darwin and his school are, by the\nprinciples of their philosophy, estopped from asserting that they do or\ndo not. They cannot say that the same phenomena imply the same noumena,\nthe same accidents, the same essence, the same appearances, the same\nreality, because, to assert the identity of nature of two things, both\nmust be known in what constitutes their essence, whereas these men\nexpressly say that of noumena, reality, or essence nothing can be known.\n\nMr. Chapman is more a disciple of Haeckel than of Darwin, and follows\nthat gentleman in all his vagaries\u2014a course well calculated to\nincrease rather than decrease the amount of prejudice against what\nthere may be of truth in Darwinism. Among the advocates of this, as of\nalmost all theories, there are extremists. Our author seems to have\ngone to school to all of them, and swallowed all they told him, no\nmatter how paradoxical, no matter how little proof to substantiate it.\nOn the other hand, of all that has been said against pure Darwinism,\nnot a word has been recorded by Mr. Chapman; and of those who, like\nProf. Agassiz, do not agree with Mr. Darwin, or who, like St. George\nMivart, have, as we think, dealt his theory blows from which it will\nnot recover, he does not make the smallest mention. Yet it cannot be\nthat Agassiz and Mivart are too small to be noticed by Mr. Chapman.\nAgassiz is too venerable a name in science to need any demonstration\nthat his opinion on scientific matters is entitled to consideration.\nMivart is, we take it, a younger man; yet, if he has not made himself\nan abiding reputation by what he has the modesty to call his \u201clittle\nbook,\u201d the _Genesis of Species_, he has made a name which must live, if\nDarwin\u2019s, and Lyell\u2019s, and Huxley\u2019s do; since all these men have found\nin him a foe worthy of their steel\u2014and the latter of the vials of his\nwrath.\n\nWe would not consider this article complete without a condensed history\nof the controversy between Mr. Huxley and Mr. Mivart, occasioned by\nthe publication by the latter of his admirable work, the _Genesis of\nSpecies_. We give it here for this, as well as for the reason that it\nwill serve as the best general answer it is in our power to give to Mr.\nChapman and other writers of his character.\n\nBut first a few remarks on Darwin\u2019s theory. It is only a theory, a mere\nhypothesis. Mr. Darwin does not pretend to have proved it himself; nor\ndoes his advocate, Mr. Huxley, who seems to have taken Mr. Darwin and\nthe Darwinian theory under his special protection, pretend that it is\nproved.\n\nBearing in mind that the Darwinian theory is only a hypothesis, we must\nestimate its value as we estimate that of other hypotheses, viz., by\nits ability to account for all the facts of which it pretends to be the\nsolution.\n\nThe Copernican system of astronomy, for instance, is only a hypothesis;\nyet, as there is no known astronomical fact absolutely contradictory\nto it, we accept it as true. If there were only one fact which it did\nnot explain and could not explain; above all, if there were one fact\nat variance with the hypothesis, the hypothesis must give way, and the\nfact stand; for one fact is worth a thousand hypotheses, and one fact\nin cases of this kind, as Mr. Huxley says, as good as five hundred.\n\nAre there, then, any facts which the Darwinian theory of development by\nnatural selection should explain and does not? Mr. Huxley himself says\nthere is one set of such facts\u2014the facts of hybridism; and, as we will\npresently see, there are a great many others.\n\nTo St. George Mivart, a scientist, but more than a scientist, a\nphilosopher in a degree, somewhat of a theologian as well, and\ntherefore a man of greater intellectual grasp than either Darwin or\nHuxley, we are indebted for the fullest presentation of the facts\ninexplicable by natural selection that has yet been given to the\nreading world. This that gentleman has done in his book before referred\nto, _The Genesis of Species_.\n\nOne of Mr. Mivart\u2019s great merits is that he accords to Mr. Darwin\u2019s\ntheory its full meed of praise. He is a scientific man, and as such\na good judge of its merits and demerits, therefore competent to\nacknowledge the one and point out the other.\n\nWe are not at all prejudiced against Mr. Darwin or his theory. We agree\nentirely with Mr. Mivart that it \u201cis perhaps the most interesting\ntheory, in relation to natural science, which has been promulgated\nduring the present century.\u201d Before pointing out, however, why it is\nthe most interesting theory of the kind, let us see in brief what the\nDarwinian theory of natural selection is.\n\nIn the words of Mr. Mivart it may be stated thus:\n\n1. \u201cEvery kind of animal and plant tends to increase in numbers in a\ngeometrical proportion.\n\n2. \u201cEvery kind of animal and plant transmits a general likeness with\nindividual differences to its offspring.\n\n3. \u201cEvery individual may present minute variations of any kind in any\ndirection.\n\n4. \u201cPast time has been practically infinite.\n\n5. \u201cEvery individual has to endure a very severe struggle for\nexistence, owing to the tendency to geometrical increase of all kinds\nof animals and plants, while the total animal and vegetable population\n(man and his agency excepted) remains almost stationary.\n\n6. \u201cThus, every variation of a kind tending to save the life of the\nindividual possessing it, or to enable it more surely to propagate\nits kind, will in the long run be preserved, and will transmit its\nfavorable peculiarity to some of its offspring, which peculiarity will\nthus become intensified till it reaches the maximum degree of utility.\nOn the other hand, individuals presenting unfavorable peculiarities\nwill be ruthlessly destroyed. The action of this law of \u2018natural\nselection\u2019 may thus be well represented by the convenient expression,\n\u2018survival of the fittest.\u2019\u201d\n\nNow as to the series of facts which this theory throws light upon. Here\nthey are as enumerated by Mr. Mivart. It explains:\n\n1. Some singular facts \u201crelating to the geographical distribution of\nanimals and plants; as, for example, on the resemblance between the\npast and present inhabitants of different parts of the earth\u2019s surface.\n\n2. \u201cThat often, in adjacent islands, we find animals closely resembling\nand appearing to represent each other; while, if certain of these\nislands show signs of more ancient separation, the animals inhabiting\nthem exhibit a corresponding divergence.\n\n3. That \u201c\u2018rudimentary structures\u2019 also receive an explanation by means\nof this theory.\n\n4. \u201cThat the singular facts of \u2018homology\u2019 are capable of a similar\nexplanation.\u201d\n\n5. That \u201cthat remarkable series of changes which animals undergo before\nthey attain their adult condition, which is called their process of\ndevelopment, and during which they more or less closely resemble other\nanimals during the early stages of the same process, has also great\nlight thrown on it from the same source.\u201d\n\n6. That \u201cby this theory, and as yet by this alone, can any explanation\nbe given of that extraordinary phenomenon which is metaphorically\ntermed \u2018mimicry.\u2019\u201d\n\nTo explain in detail the exact import of each of these heads would\ncarry us beyond the limits of a magazine article; and the reader who\nwishes for more minute and definite information on them we must refer\nto Mivart\u2019s own book, or to Darwin\u2019s _Origin of Species_.\n\nPass we now to those facts which Darwin\u2019s theory is incompetent to\nexplain, and to the arguments against it. Mr. Mivart enumerates them\nthus:\n\n1. \u201cThat \u2018natural\u2019 selection is incompetent to account for the\nincipient stages of useful structures.\n\n2. \u201cThat it does not harmonize with the coexistence of closely similar\nstructures of diverse origin.\n\n3. \u201cThat there are grounds for thinking that specific differences may\nbe developed suddenly instead of gradually.\n\n4. \u201cThat the opinion that species have definite though very different\nlimits to their variability is still tenable.\n\n5. \u201cThat certain fossil transitional forms are absent which might have\nbeen expected to be present.\n\n6. \u201cThat some facts of geographical distribution supplement other\ndifficulties.\n\n7. \u201cThat the objection drawn from the physiological difference between\n\u2018species\u2019 and \u2018races\u2019 still exists unrefuted.\u201d\n\nOur readers will readily understand that, if species, or rather\nindividual animals, were originated by natural law, and if that law be\n\u201cnatural selection,\u201d the action of \u201cnatural selection\u201d must be able\nto explain not only the production of the animal as a whole, but of\nits several organs, both when they have reached the point of maximum\nutility, and at all stages previous thereto.\n\nMr. Mivart shows that it does not accomplish this; that it does not\naccount for \u201cthe incipient stages of useful structures, _e. g._ the\nheads of flatfishes, the baleen of whales, vertebrate limbs, the\nlaryngeal structures of the new-born kangaroo, the pedicellari\u00e6 of\nechinoderms\u201d; and thus he established his first charge on purely\nscientific grounds, as a scientist writing for scientists. The other\ncharges are equally well sustained. It would, however, require the\nrewriting of Mr. Mivart\u2019s book to follow him through all his facts and\narguments, and we must beg again to refer the reader who would study\nthe matter in detail, to the book itself.\n\nAnother series of objections brought forward by Mr. Mivart against the\nsame theory is equally well sustained\u2014objections that go to show that\n\u201cit cannot be applied at least to the soul of man,\u201d as Mr. Darwin has\napplied it.\n\nHere, again, everyone will see that, if the human soul is not created\nby God, it, too, must have been gradually evolved from what, for lack\nof a more convenient term, though not without protest, we must call\nan animal soul, by the process of natural selection; and therefore\nthere is nothing in man\u2019s soul which was not in the ape\u2019s\u2014the same\nfaculties, moral and intellectual, in kind, different only in degree.\nThis question Mr. Mivart discusses in a separate chapter on \u201cEvolution\nand Ethics.\u201d\n\nThe result of the discussion he thus sums up:\n\n1. \u201cNatural selection could not have produced, from the sensations of\npleasure and pain experienced in brutes, a higher degree of morality\nthan was useful; therefore it could have produced any amount of\n\u2018beneficial habits,\u2019 but not an abhorrence of certain acts as impure\nand sinful.\n\n2. \u201cIt could not have developed that high esteem for acts of care and\ntenderness to the aged and infirm which actually exists, but would\nrather have perpetuated certain low social conditions which obtain in\nsome savage localities.\n\n3. \u201cIt could not have evolved from ape sensations the noble virtues of\na Marcus Aurelius, or the loving but manly devotion of a S. Louis.\n\n4. \u201cThat it alone could not have given rise to the maxim, _Fiat\njustitia, ruat c\u0153lum_.\n\n5. \u201cThat the interval between material and formal morality is one\naltogether beyond its power to traverse.\u201d\n\nMr. Mivart further shows \u201cthat the anticipatory character of moral\nprinciples is a fatal bar to that explanation of their origin which\nis offered to us by Mr. Herbert Spencer\u201d; and \u201cthat the solution of\nthat origin proposed recently by Sir John Lubbock is a mere version\nof simple utilitarianism, appealing to the pleasure or safety of the\nindividual, and therefore utterly incapable of solving the riddle it\nattacks.\u201d\n\nIt is hardly necessary that we should dwell on these points. Our\nChristian readers need no demonstration of them. Knowing, on the one\nhand, what Christian morality is, and, on the other, what mere animal\nbehavior, they must know the difference between them, and, knowing this\ndifference, that by no possibility could the one be developed from the\nother, there being no oneness of kind in them.\n\nJust here we would remark that, in addition to his other arguments, Mr.\nMivart might have added that from philology against Darwinism, and with\ngood effect. There are those who, from that science, argue the other\nway. But, in a series of able articles on \u201cDarwinism and the Science\nof Language,\u201d the Rev. J. Knabenbauer, S. J., has shown that philology\npoints to a diversity of origin for man and the lower animals.\n\nHe argues that the ultimate elements, the roots of all language, are\nexpressive of general ideas. Now, general ideas are the products of the\nintellectual processes known as abstraction and generalization. Hence,\nbefore the formation of roots, before the beginnings of language, man\nwas man, since he could abstract and generalize. Hence, also, language\nis not a development of animal cries, nor man of the brute, since the\nbrute can neither abstract nor generalize.\n\nFinally, Mr. Mivart shows in his chapter on \u201cEvolution and Theology\u201d\nthat evolution and creation by no means exclude one another; and that a\nCatholic\u2014Mr. Mivart is a Catholic\u2014may accept the theory of evolution,\nancient writers of authority in the church having \u201casserted abstract\n_principles_ such as can perfectly _harmonize_ with the requirements of\nmodern science,\u201d and, \u201cas it were, provided for the reception of its\nmost advanced speculations.\u201d\n\nIn support of this view, Mr. Mivart quotes from S. Augustine, S.\nThomas, Cornelius \u00e0 Lapide, and refers to the Jesuit Suarez, with the\ndoctrines of all of whom it is perfectly consistent to hold that animal\nspecies were created only potentially, _potentialiter tantum_.\n\nBy that we do not mean to insinuate that the naked Darwinian theory is\ncompatible with Catholic faith; but of this more hereafter.\n\nIt was not to be expected that Mr. Mivart, in his criticism on\nDarwinism, would meet with no opponents. He must have expected to be\nattacked from two quarters, and by two different classes of men: by\nthose committed to the Darwinian hypothesis, in the first place; and,\nagain, by those who value that hypothesis less for its scientific merit\nthan for\u2014as they suppose\u2014its incompatibility with Christian doctrine,\nand the service they think it might render in the disintegration of the\nChristian societies. Among the latter we are compelled to class Mr.\nHuxley, who, if a very good scientist, is, notwithstanding, one of the\nmost arrogant of men.\n\nHe replied to Mr. Mivart, and in his reply does neither more nor less\nthan constitute himself the infallible teacher of all mankind, the\nsupreme pontiff of science, empowered to speak with authority on all\nmatters pertaining to religion and philosophy, as well as to anatomy.\nHe has the commendable modesty, even, to tell Catholics what they\nmay believe, and what they must reject. He interprets the Bible for\nthem, expounds the teachings of the Fathers of the church, comments\non the schoolmen, all for their benefit; in fact, entirely forgets\nthe good old maxim, \u201cLet the cobbler stick to his last,\u201d and imagines\nthat, because he has learned a considerable amount about brains and\nstomachs\u2014dead brains and stomachs, for the most part\u2014he can legislate\nfor the Christian world; that anything in heaven or on earth which\nhe cannot weigh or measure, upon which he cannot bring the knife, or\nthe blowpipe, or the spectroscope to bear, does not exist, or exist\notherwise than as it takes form in his own by no means humble mind.\n\nIn his reply to Mr. Mivart, he virtually passes over all of the latter\ngentleman\u2019s scientific objections, and fastens on his assertion that\nevolution is at all _compatible_ with Catholic doctrine.\n\nMr. Mivart had, as we have seen, referred to Suarez, and that, Mr.\nMivart assures us, because, in Mr. Huxley\u2019s words, \u201cthe popular repute\nof that learned theologian and subtle casuist was not such as to make\nhis works a likely place of refuge for liberality of thought.\u201d\n\nOf course Mr. Mivart did not intend to represent Suarez or the other\nwriters we have mentioned above as advocating the very modern doctrine\nof evolution, but only abstract principles harmonizing with it; and,\nif anything, broader than it, inasmuch as they are broad enough not\nonly to take in the recent theory of evolution, but any other theory\nof development which may be yet advocated; yet Mr. Huxley assumed\nthat Mr. Mivart meant to convey the impression that F. Suarez was a\nDarwinian or a disciple of Herbert Spencer, which he could not well be,\nhaving lived some centuries too early to enjoy any such good-fortune.\nHaving erected this theory, Mr. Huxley went, in his \u201cMore Criticisms on\nDarwin,\u201d deliberately to work to demolish it, in doing which he left\nhis way considerably, raising questions on which Mr. Mivart had said\nnothing whatever, and which in the discussion are wholly irrelevant;\nas, for instance, the meaning of the word \u201cday\u201d in the first chapter of\nGenesis, as advocated by some authorities.\n\nMr. Mivart retorted through the pages of the _Contemporary Review_, and\ndemonstrated that Suarez was \u201can opponent of the theory of a perpetual\ndirect creation of organisms,\u201d and \u201cthat the principles of scholastic\ntheology are such as _not to exclude_ the theory of development, but\nrather to favor it.\u201d He quoted again from Suarez, to show that that\nwriter, treating of the opinion that individuals of kinds like the\nmule, leopard, lynx, etc., must have been created from the beginning,\nexpressed the view that the contrary seemed to him more probable,\nthus asserting _the principle_ that those kinds of animals which are\n_potentially_ contained in nature need not be supposed to be directly\nand immediately created. More than this, Mr. Mivart shows that the same\nauthority recognizes the possibility that certain organisms may be\noriginated directly from the inorganic world by cosmical influences.\n\nOur readers already know what were the views of S. Augustine on this\nmatter. Mr. Mivart shows that other theologians besides S. Thomas, such\nas S. Bonaventure, Albertus Magnus, Denis the Carthusian, Cardinal\nCajetan, Melchior Canus, Bannes, Vincentius Contenson, Macedo and\nCardinal Noris, Tosti, Serri, \u201cand others down to the present day,\u201d\nagree with S. Augustine in his views on the question we are considering.\n\nThe great result\u2014the only result in which we feel especially\ninterested\u2014of this controversy was the bringing into clearer light the\nfact that the kernel of truth contained in Darwinism or in evolution is\nnot at variance with revelation, as indeed it cannot be and be true.\nThis is what Mr. Huxley has done for the church.\n\nOf Mr. Huxley\u2019s treatment of his opponent\u2019s objections on the score of\nmorality we have nothing to say which would be of the least service to\nour readers.\n\nRemains the question: How far may a Catholic accept the special\nDarwinian theory or the doctrine of evolution? Mr. Mivart asserts\nthat a miraculous origin of the body of man is not necessary; that it\nmight have been evolved from that of some lower being by natural law.\nDarwinians and evolutionists generally maintain an analogous origin for\nthe human soul. Is there anything in this contrary to revelation?\n\nWe have not space, if we had the ability, to go into a lengthy\nexamination of this question. Nor is there any reason that we should.\nIt has already received the attention of able Catholic writers, and we\ncan do no better than give the results of their investigation. They\nhave shown[48] that, with respect to all organisms lower than man, the\ndoctrine of the fathers is that Catholic faith \u201cdoes not prevent any\none from holding the opinion that life, both vegetable and animal,\nwas in the world in germ at its creation, and afterwards developed\nby regular process into all the various species now on the earth\u201d;\ntherefore, that \u201call living things up to man exclusively were evolved\nby natural law out of minute life-germs primarily created, or even out\nof inorganic matter,\u201d is an opinion which a Catholic may consistently\nhold if he thinks fit so to do.\n\nAs to the question of the _body_ of man, the same writers have shown,\nand we take it to be the safer opinion\u2014in which, perhaps, we differ\nfrom Mr. Mivart\u2014\u201cthat to question the immediate and instantaneous\n(or quasi-instantaneous) formation by God of the bodies of Adam and\nEve\u2014the former out of inorganic matter, the latter out of the rib of\nAdam\u2014is at least rash, and probably proximate to heresy.\u201d\n\nThat the human soul was specially and separately created is an article\nof Catholic faith.\n\nThere is not a fact in science at variance with these views of the\norigin of the body of man and of the human soul. Even Mr. Wallace\u2014to\nwhom the credit of pointing out the influence of \u201cnatural selection\u201d\nin modifying organic beings belongs by right of a title not less valid\nthan that of Mr. Darwin\u2014believes, and he has reason to believe, in the\naction of an overruling Intelligence in the production of \u201cthe human\nform divine\u201d; and that, in view of man\u2019s special attributes, \u201che is,\nindeed, a being apart\u201d\u2014not, therefore, evolved, either as to his body\nor his soul, from any inferior organism. When a man like Mr. Wallace\nholds such a view, we may rest assured that the facts in the case do\nnot require any one to hold the contrary. Let us now endeavor to sum up\nthe results in relation to the Darwinian theory and the bearings thus\nfar obtained:\n\n1. The tendency of every kind of animal and plant to increase in\ngeometrical progression, and to transmit a general likeness with\nindividual differences, as well as to present minute variations\nof any kind in any direction, the great length of past time, the\nstruggle of animals and plants for existence, and the preservation and\nintensification of favorable variations, are facts on which the theory\nis based.\n\nWe accept these facts.\n\n2. We do not accept the theory, because, although it throws light on\nsome facts, there are others with which it is not compatible; and\nbecause those even on which it does throw light do not require us to\naccept it.\n\n3. There is nothing in the Darwinian theory, or in the more general\ntheory of evolution countenanced by facts bearing on the development of\nlife, which a Catholic may not accept, if he wishes so to do.\n\n4. The teaching of Darwinism as to the origin of man\u2019s body is probably\nnext to heretical. At all events, the only safe opinion is that it\nwas not evolved from the body of a lower being, but was directly and\nquasi-instantaneously created by God.\n\n5. Its teaching concerning the origin of the human soul is in direct\nand irreconcilable contradiction with an article of Catholic faith.\n\n6. There is\u2014apart from revealed doctrine\u2014an absolute scientific\ncertainty of the truth of that same doctrine respecting the creation of\nthe human soul, and the highest probability of the immediate creation\nof the human body.\n\nSo much for the facts, so much for the theory, so much for its bearings\non revelation.\n\nIn all we have said, we do not wish to be understood as advocating\nthe Darwinian theory, even in so far as it does not conflict with\nCatholic faith, nor as committing ourselves to the general doctrine of\nevolution. The fact is, we do not care as Catholics to pledge ourselves\nhastily to any hypothesis whatever. We know some little of the history\nof hypotheses, and we know that it has been a history of failures.\n\nWhen the Darwinian hypothesis or the theory of evolution shall\nhave stood the test of years and facts, and the most searching\ninvestigations, let the Catholics who will be then alive accept them.\nThere is no special reason why we should profess our faith in them. We\ndo not need them to account for the phenomena about us.\n\nOn the other hand, we can readily understand why a certain class of\nminds should subscribe to it.\n\nThe human mind naturally seeks for an explanation of the origin of\nthings. Intelligent men know the human race has not always been on\nthe earth, that the phenomena about us are not eternal, that animal\nand vegetable life must have had a beginning here. Catholics know the\nsame, and knew it before science had demonstrated it or discovered its\nminuti\u00e6.\n\nMen who wish to get rid of God welcome any hypothesis which seems to\nremove him to a greater distance from them, even before that hypothesis\nhas more in its favor than against a it. Catholics, who believe in God,\nhave no such anxiety. They are willing to wait, since they have already\nan explanation of the origin of things in their belief in God, and in\nthe teachings of his revelation that he in the beginning created the\nheavens and the earth, and all that they contain. The minuti\u00e6, the How\nof that creation, they leave it to science to discover. When discovered\nand proved, they will accept it. But science can never give them\nanything not contained in the first article of the Creed: \u201cI believe\nin God the Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.\u201d All it can do\nis to explicate and confirm this.\n\nIf it be objected that scientists accept the theory, and that we\ntherefore should, we reply, _mere_ scientists do; and of all men, the\nleast safe of guides is the mere scientist. No other man is more apt to\nbecome a blind worshipper of the idols of the Cave. He confines himself\nwithin the narrow limits of his laboratory, among instruments of death,\nand then would excogitate a solution to the problems of life and of the\nuniverse; as if with bolts and screws he could wring from nature the\nsecret it will not yield.\n\nGoethe well knew that from such men we need not expect the answer to\nthe riddle of the universe; that one glance at the world as a whole as\nit lies bathed in the sun on a summer\u2019s day tells us more than all the\ntomes of philosophers.\n\n  \u201cAh me! this dungeon still I see,\n  This drear, accursed masonry,\n  Where even the welcome daylight strains\n  But darkly through the painted panes,\n  Hemmed in by many a toppling heap\n  Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust,\n  Which to the vaulted ceiling creep,\n  Against the smoky paper thrust,\n  With glasses, boxes, round me stocked,\n  And instruments together hurled,\n  Ancestral lumber stuffed and packed:\n  Such is my world: and what a world!\n  And do I ask wherefore my heart\n  Falters, oppressed with unknown needs?\n  With some inexplicable smart\n  All movement of my life impedes?\n  Alas! in living nature\u2019s stead,\n  Where God his human creature set\n  In smoke and mould, the fleshless dead\n  And bones and beasts surround me yet!\u201d\n\nAnd although we can see some force in the general theory of evolution,\nwe cannot accept it till it settles its account with the principle on\nwhich the whole inductive method is raised\u2014the constancy of the laws\nof nature.\n\nThe theory of evolution strikes, it seems to us, at the very root of\nthis principle. It proclaims that there is not and has never been any\nconstancy in nature. It devours all other law, or rather destroys it.\nIt means simply change. Permanency, constancy, and their synonymes\nare opposed to it; and thus the theory of evolution must invalidate\nall the sciences which are founded on the assumption that nature is\nconstant; in other words, that it does not change, does not evolve. The\ndefinition of evolution given by Mr. Spencer makes it simply a change.\nTrue, he states the method or law of that change. But the method is\ndiscovered by induction. Induction is in turn annihilated by evolution.\nThe fabric as it rises loses its foundation, and floats in the air, a\nbaseless vision.\n\nBut if we are in no haste to yield assent to Darwinism or evolution in\ngeneral; as applied to man\u2019s soul by advocates like Spencer or Chapman,\nwe reject it _in toto_. It is incompetent to account for the facts,\nnay, in glaring contradiction to them.\n\nWe take our stand against man\u2019s relation to the ape on facts as\nundeniable as any the zoologist or anatomist advances in its favor.\nThese compare man\u2019s body and the ape, and _find_ no very great\nsuperiority of the one over the other as they lie recently dead on the\nanatomist\u2019s table. Let the two lie there only a little longer, and none\nat all will be discoverable. A little dust which the winds of heaven\nwill soon scatter to the four points of the compass is all that will be\nleft of either. Shall we therefore infer their oneness of kind? By no\nmeans.\n\nWe know that man is in some respects not unlike the ape in form; but we\nknow, too, that there are Godlike faculties in man which are not in the\nape. We know this, and we know, moreover, that the philosopher through\nwhose brain roll vast choruses of thought; who stands on the heights\nof Christian philosophy and human speculation, and discourses on death\nand immortality; who, from the eminence to which Christianity has\nraised him, looks down, not with indifference and not with contempt,\nbut with deep serenity, on the little loves and little hates of the\nworld, because conscious of his eternal destiny\u2014we know, we have an\nintuition, which we trust more than we trust Darwin and Huxley, that\nthis philosopher is more than a developed ape.\n\nAnd when the anatomist tells us there is little anatomical difference\nbetween man and the ape, therefore between man as man and the ape as\nape there is little difference or a difference only of degree, we\nreply: Between man and the ape, between a Newton or even a savage and\na monkey, there is, in the intellectual order, a vast difference,\nan infinite difference. _This_ we take as the fact, and draw the\nconclusion that the amount of anatomical difference between a monkey\nand a man is no criterion or measure of the real difference.\n\nWe treat the argument from embryology in the same way. Because\nat a certain stage in its development the human embryo cannot be\ndistinguished from that of certain of the lower animals, we are assured\nthat man differs from these only in degree. We grant the fact, we\nreject the inference; and we reason: notwithstanding you can detect\nno difference at certain stages between the two, time develops one\nso great that the one may become a Shakespeare, the other becomes\nonly a Shakespeare\u2019s dog. What follows? Simply this: that there is a\nsomething in the human embryo which is not in the other\u2014a something\nwhich the sense cannot detect, but the existence of which the mind\nmay infer; that there is more of life than the embryologist can find\nout by his methods, as there is more of the rose than is found in its\nashes\u2014more of life than we would be apt to see in a dissecting-room or\na charnel-house.\n\nNo; whatever force the special Darwinian theory may have to the student\nof animal life, to the student of man as an animal, it can have very\nlittle to him who views man in his higher manifestations. Whatever else\nit may account for, it never can throw any light on the facts of man\u2019s\nmoral nature. It never can explain the origin of a being who believes\nin purity or pity.\n\nLet the Darwinian, indeed, explain, if he can, how, if man owes\nhis existence and his development, physical, moral, and mental, to\nsuccess in the struggle for existence\u2014in other words, to natural\nselection\u2014and this success, in turn, to the exercise of the selfish or\ncombative faculties, or to both combined\u2014faculties which, according to\nthis theory, he must have exercised, his present and previous states\ntaken together, for ages unnumbered\u2014so long, indeed, that they ought\nto have grown into uncontrollable instincts\u2014and which are the only\nones he can have exercised from the beginning, to which, therefore, as\nthe most imperious, all others should be subordinate\u2014let him, we say,\nexplain who can how this tendency to battle, inherited through infinite\nages, has not taken complete possession of man, nor caused his life to\nbe a continual strife with his fellows; let him explain how, instead of\nall this, there _are_ men who have learned, not to hate, but to love\ntheir enemies, to compassionate the weak, the poor, and the lowly, to\nnurse the sick and the dying, to care even for the dead; nay, how it\ncomes that there are men who are guided by the sublime command: \u201cLove\nthem that hate you, bless them that curse you, pray for them that\npersecute and calumniate you\u201d; or, further yet, how, in spite of the\nexercise of the selfish and combative faculties, in the struggle for\nexistence, the tendency of which must have been to strengthen by use\nthe organs of destruction, the same organs should gradually disappear,\nand that in man not one of them should be left.\n\nLet him explain, again, how out of mere animality, by \u201cnatural\nselection,\u201d out of the mere brute, in a \u201cstruggle for existence,\u201d\nbeings should come\u2014men to whom this would be a law: Be pure; for \u201che\nthat looketh after a woman to lust after her hath already committed\nadultery with her in his heart.\u201d There are such men\u2014men to whom this\nis a law, and who obey it. Will a Vogt or a B\u00fcchner believe it? Will a\nDarwin account for it by \u201cnatural selection\u201d?\n\nFinally, let him explain how, if man has always been only growing out\nof some lower condition, he has yet learned, in a measure, to go beyond\nhimself, to harbor an ideal which he has never reached, but towards\nwhich he ever strives, inasmuch as he endeavors to fulfil the command\nof the Son of God: \u201cBe ye perfect, as my heavenly Father also is\nperfect.\u201d\n\n\nPEACE.\n\nTHIS supplication of the Suffering was that also of the Militant\nChurch, which daily offered it as now with sighs and tears, and, by the\nlight which this reflection casts on history, we can catch a glimpse\nfor an instant at the immense multitude of the pacific men who in the\nmiddle ages were existing upon earth; for as many as were joined in\nspirit to the church, were united with her in this ardent, insatiable\ndesire of peace. How do we know that the Catholic Church, which the\nholy Fathers call the house of peace, was so profoundly attached to\npeace? From a simple review of her liturgy: for in the first place, her\ngreat daily sacrifice itself was nothing else but the mystery of peace,\nthe pledge of future and eternal, the diffusion of present peace to\nman. At this holy and tremendous celebration in which God hath given\npeace reconciling the lowest with the highest in himself, the good of\ntemporal peace was also formally invoked, at the _Gloria_, at the _Te\nigitur_, at the spreading of the hands before the consecration, at the\n_Libera nos_ at the salutation of the people, at the _Agnus Dei_, at\nthe three prayers which follow it, and in the prayer for the king; for\nas the apostle assigns the reason for the latter, _that we may lead\na secure and peaceable life_, so with that intention the holy church\nprays for all rulers, even for such as are transgressors of the divine\nlaw;[49] which intention is formally expressed in her solemn litany,\nwhere she prays that kings and Christian princes may have peace and\ntrue concord, and all the people peace and unity. The innumerable\npriests, who celebrated throughout the earth, knew that the inestimable\nprice of the world, and the great Victim for the salvation of men,\ncould only be immolated in a spirit of peace, and with a contrite\nheart; and that, as Peter of Blois says, it is never lawful to offer it\nwithout that preparation.[50]\u2014DIGBY, _Mores Catholici_.\n\n\nDANTE\u2019S PURGATORIO.\n\nCANTO EIGHTH.\n\n In this Canto, Dante introduces the souls of Nino Visconti, judge of\n Gallura in Sardinia; and of Conrad Malaspina, who predicts to the poet\n his banishment.\n\n  \u2018Twas now the hour that brings to men at sea,\n    Who in the morn have bid sweet friends farewell,\n  Fond thoughts and longing back with them to be;\n    And thrills the pilgrim with a tender spell\n  Of love, if haply, new upon his way,\n    He faintly hear a chime from some far bell,\n  That seems to mourn the dying of the day;\n    When I forbore my listening faculty\n  To mark one spirit uprisen amid the band\n    Who joined both palms and lifted them on high\n  (First having claimed attention with his hand)\n    And towards the Orient bent so fixed an eye\n  As \u2018twere he said, \u201cMy God! on thee alone\n    My longing rests.\u201d Then from his lips there came\n  _Te lucis ante_, so devout of tone,\n    So sweet, my mind was ravished by the same\n  The others next, full sweetly and devout,\n    Fixing their gaze on the supernal wheels,\n  Followed him chanting the whole Psalm throughout.\n\n    Now, reader, to the truth my verse conceals\n  Make sharp thy vision; subtle is the veil\n    So fine \u2018twere easily passed through unseen.\n  I saw that gentle army, meek and pale,\n    Silently gazing upward with a mien\n  As of expectancy, and from on high\n    Beheld two angels with two swords descend\n  Which flamed with fire, but, as I could descry,\n    They bare no points, being broken at the end.\n  Green robes, in hue more delicate than spring\u2019s\n    Tender new leaves, they trailed behind and fanned\n  With gentle beating of their verdant wings.\n    One, coming near, just over us took stand,\n  Down to th\u2019 opponent bank the other sped,\n    So that the spirits were between them grouped\n  Full well could I discern each flaxen head;\n    But in their faces mine eyes\u2019 virtue drooped,\n  As \u2018twere confounded by excess and dead.\n    \u201cFrom Mary\u2019s bosom they have both come here,\u201d\n  Sordello said\u2014\u201cthis valley to protect\n    Against the serpent that will soon appear:\u201d\n  Whence I, unknowing which way to expect\n    This object, turned me, almost froze with fear,\n  And to those trusty shoulders closely clung.\n    Again Sordello: \u201cGo we down and see\n  These mighty shades, and let them hear our tongue:\n    Thy presence will to them right gracious be.\u201d\n  Only three steps I think brought me below\n    Where one I noticed solely eyeing me\n  As if who I might be he fain would know.\n    \u2018Twas dusk, yet not so but the dusky air,\n  Between his eyes and mine, within the dell,\n    Showed what before it did not quite declare.\n  Towards me he moved, and I towards him as well:\n    Gentle Judge Nino, when I saw thee there\n  What joy was mine to find thee not in hell!\n    We left unsaid no form of fair salute:\n  Then he inquired: \u201cHow long since thou didst come\n    O\u2019er the far waters to the mountain\u2019s foot?\u201d\n  \u201cO but this morn,\u201d said I, \u201cthe realms of gloom\n    I passed: in the first life I am, but fain\n  Would find the next by following on this track.\u201d\n    Like to men suddenly amazed, the twain,\n  He and Sordello, hearing this, drew back.\n    One looked at Virgil, one into the face\n  Of a companion sitting there, and cried,\n    \u201cUp, Conrad! see what God hath of his grace\n  Bestowed,\u201d then turning unto me replied:\n\n\nNINO VISCONTI.\n\n    \u201cBy that especial reverence, I beseech,\n  Which thou ow\u2019st him whose primal way is hid\n    So that none sound it, if soe\u2019er thou reach\n  The shore beyond the vasty waters, bid\n    My child Giovanna for my peace implore\n  There where the cry of innocents heaven heeds.\n    Her mother I am sure loves me no more\n  Since she put off her widow\u2019s paly weeds,\n    But in her misery fain would wear this day.\n  From her full readily may one be taught\n    How soon love\u2019s flame in woman dies away\n  If sight or touch full oft relume it not.\n    The chanticleer upon Gallura\u2019s shield\n  Had graced her sepulchre with fairer show\n    Than will that viper, which to battle-field\n  Marshals the men of Milan.\u201d With such glow\n    He uttered this as in his face revealed\n  The heart\u2019s just passion smouldering yet below.\n  Still that sole part of heaven I fondly eyed\n    Where the stars move, even as a wheel doth move\n  More slowly next the axle. Said my Guide:\n    \u201cSon, what dost thou so gaze at there above?\u201d\n  \u201cUp there! at yon three torches,\u201d I replied,\n    \u201cWhose splendor makes this pole here all ablaze.\u201d\n  And he to me: \u201cThe four clear stars that rose\n    This morn before thee have abased their rays,\n  And these have mounted in the place of those.\u201d\n    While thus he spake, Sordello to his side\n  Drew Virgil, and exclaimed: \u201cBehold our Foe!\u201d\n    And pointed to the thing which he descried.\n  And where that small vale\u2019s barrier sinks most low\n    A serpent suddenly was seen to glide,\n  Such as gave Eve, perchance, the fruit of woe.\n    Through flowers and herbage came that evil streak,\n  To lick its back oft turning round its head,\n    As with his tongue a beast his fur doth sleek.\n  I was not looking, so must leave unsaid\n    When first they fluttered, but full well I saw\n  Both heavenly falcons had their plumage spread.\n    Soon as the serpent felt the withering flaw\n  Of those green wings, it vanished, and they sped\n    Up to their posts again with even flight.\n  The shade who had approached the judge when he\n    Accosted him, had never moved his sight\n  Through this encounter, looking fixed on me.\n\n\nCONRAD MALASPINA.\n\n  \u201cSo may that light,\u201d the spirit began to say,\n    \u201cWhich leads thee up, find in thine own free will\n  Sufficient wax to last thee all the way,\n    Even to th\u2019 enamelled summit of the Hill.\n  If thou true news of Val di Magra know\u2019st,\n    Or of those parts, inform me of the same,\n  For I was mighty once upon that coast,\n    And Conrad Malaspina was my name.\n  Not the old lord, but his descendant, I:\n    The love which once I to my kindred bore\n  Is here refined.\u201d \u201cO,\u201d thus I made reply,\n    \u201cThat realm of yours I never travelled o\u2019er;\n  But where throughout all Europe is the place\n    That knows it not? The honor Fame accords\n  Your house illustrates not alone the race,\n    But makes the land renowned as are its lords;\n  He knows that country who was never there:\n    Still the free purse they bear, and still bright swords\n  So mount my soul as this to thee I swear!\n    Custom and nature privilege them so,\n  That, if through guilt the world\u2019s guide lead astray,\n    They in the path of right straightforward go\n  Sole of all men, and scorn the evil way.\u201d\n    To these my words, \u201cNow go,\u201d the spirit said,\n  For the sun shall not enter seven times more\n    That part of heaven where Aries o\u2019er his bed\n  Stretches and spreads his forked feet all four,\n    Ere this thy courtesy\u2019s belief shall be\n  Nailed in the middle of thy head with nails\n    Of greater force than men\u2019s reports to thee\n  If, unimpeded, Judgment\u2019s course prevails.\n\n\nTHE RUSSIAN IDEA.\n\nFROM THE GERMAN OF CONRAD VON BOLANDEN.\n\nCONCLUDED.\n\nIII.\n\nRUSSIAN VICTIMS.\n\nTHE following morning, Rasumowski sat with his guests at a sumptuous\nbreakfast in his elegant summer-house, the roof of which rested upon\nbeautifully ornamented pillars. Adolph von Sempach appeared very sad;\nfor he had again received evidences of Alexandra\u2019s indomitable pride\nand want of feeling. Beck remarked the disposition of his friend, and\nhe thought with satisfaction of the deeply afflicted mother in her\nlonely palace at Posen.\n\n\u201cSome years ago, the emperor emancipated the serfs\u2014did he act\nprudently?\u201d asked the high official of Berlin.\n\n\u201cWhatever the czar does, is well done,\u201d answered the governor; \u201cand\nif the future czar again introduces the former system of servitude,\nthat also will be right. But you must not understand the abolition of\nservitude in a literal sense. The serfs; were freed only from servitude\nto the nobility; the Russian nobility have lost by it. But both peasant\nand noble will always remain slaves of the emperor. Consequently\nservitude still exists in Russia, the same kind that you desire to\nestablish in the new German Empire. Ah! there comes the Roman Catholic\npastor!\u201d exclaimed the governor, his features assuming at once their\naccustomed look of ferocity. \u201cNow, gentlemen, see how I shall deal with\nthis hero of liberty, who preaches rebellion to the people!\u201d\n\nThe pastor timidly approached the Russian dignitary, and allowed\nhimself to be treated in a manner unworthy of his priestly dignity.\n\nBut the priest had seen many thousands of his Catholic brethren put\nto death and transported to Siberia. He knew that, by a stroke of the\npen, Rasumowski could doom him to the same fate; and to this must\nalso be added the fact that in Poland Catholic clergyman are educated\nby professors appointed by the Russian government. These professors\nvery naturally train and discipline the seminarians according to the\ncommands of a government hostile to the Roman Catholic religion. Solid\ntheological learning and a proper appreciation of the dignity of the\npriesthood are not sufficiently esteemed, for which reason we must make\nallowances for the cringing deportment of the village pastor.\n\nAfter having made a low reverence before the governor, the latter\nrudely accosted him by saying, \u201cHave you your sermon with you?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is at your service, your honor,\u201d replied the priest, taking with\ntrembling hands from his pocket a written sheet of paper, which he\nhanded to the governor.\n\nRasumowski began to read, while now and then a sign of contempt or a\nshade of anger would spread itself over his face.\n\n\u201cBy the heavens above me! pastor, this is incredible; in your sermon\nthere is not one word said about his most high majesty the emperor!\nWhat is the meaning of this? Do you wish to go to Siberia?\u201d\n\nThe priest shook like an aspen-leaf.\n\n\u201cPardon me, your honor, pardon me!\u201d stammered the priest. \u201cI preached,\nas your honor may condescend to see, not about the most high emperor,\nbut concerning Jesus Christ, the Saviour of the world, who has redeemed\nmen through his death upon the cross, and has freed them from the\nservitude of Satan.\u201d\n\n\u201cBah!\u2014Saviour of the world\u2014nonsense!\u201d interrupted the governor. \u201cYou\nmust always preach about the most high the emperor. Your remarks about\nthe Saviour of the world are altogether superfluous. And then,\u201d he\ncontinued, with a threatening frown, \u201cin your sermon you repeatedly\nuse words not approved of by the government; that is, _freedom_ and\n_servitude_. You must never again use such expressions, for, if you\ndo\u2014remember Siberia!\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon, your honor! My intention was to show the people that we must\nobey God from motives of gratitude.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat, again, is nonsense!\u201d exclaimed the governor. \u201cIf God wishes the\npeople to obey him, let him march his soldiers against the disobedient.\nOur first duty is to the emperor; this you must preach to your\nparishioners!\u201d\n\nHe rang the bell, which was immediately answered by a Cossack.\n\n\u201cBring me a sheet of official paper, and the pen and ink!\u201d said\nRasumowski to the servant. \u201cNow, listen, pastor, to what I say! If\nyou again preach upon _liberty_ or _servitude_, you will be sent to\nSiberia; for in the holy Russian Empire there is neither _freedom_ nor\n_servitude_; and, in order that you may become a practical preacher,\nyou must preach for a whole year on nothing else but on the _kindness_,\n_mildness_, _glory_, _wisdom_, _power_, and _benevolence_ of the\nemperor, but, above all, on the strict obligation of unconditional\nobedience due to him. Will you do this?\u201d\n\n\u201cAt your honor\u2019s command,\u201d replied the intimidated priest.\n\nRasumowski wrote upon a sheet of paper which bore the printed\nsuperscription: \u201cPolice Notice.\u201d He then read aloud what he had\nwritten: \u201cIn this church the only topic to be preached upon for a whole\nyear is on the high qualities of the emperor, and on the obligations of\nhis subjects to him.\u201d\n\nHe then folded the paper, and gave it to the priest.\n\n\u201cThat your congregation may be informed of my command,\u201d said he, \u201cyou\nmust nail this police notice upon the church door. Now go!\u201d\n\nBefore the priest had left the garden, the Berlin official burst into\na loud laugh.\n\n\u201cOh! this is sublime!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cI must confess that you have\nthese priests under splendid subjection. The Russian method is\nadmirable, and must be introduced into the new German Empire.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy opinion,\u201d said the professor, in a tone of indescribable sarcasm,\n\u201cis that this Russian method is even excelled by the Prussian. The\ngovernor has not forbidden the pastor to preach, he has simply given\nhim matter for his sermons; but upon the doors of several churches in\ncertain cities of Prussia _police notices_ are placed, which forbid\npreaching altogether; and not only preaching, but even the hearing of\nconfessions and the celebration of Mass. I think, therefore, that we\nhave surpassed the Russians.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is so,\u201d replied Herr Schulze; \u201cbut the order of which you speak\nis unfortunately directed only against the Jesuits.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is all the same,\u201d answered Beck. \u201cCatholic preaching, the holy\nMass, and confession were forbidden. The war of destruction is not made\nsolely against the Jesuits, but against the church.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are correct, professor!\u201d answered Schulze. \u201cDo you know Dr.\nFriedberg, of Leipzig?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot personally,\u201d replied Beck; \u201cbut I am familiar with some of his\nwritings.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d continued Schulze, \u201cDr. Friedberg is Bismarck\u2019s most faithful\nadviser and assistant in the combat against the ultramontanes, who\nare so hostile to the empire. Friedberg has lately published a work\nin which he expressly says that war is to be made not on the Jesuits\nalone, but on the whole Catholic Church, and that this war must be\nenergetically carried out.\u201d\n\n\u201cWithout reference to Dr. Friedberg\u2019s pamphlet,\u201d said Beck, \u201cit is\nclearly evident to every man of judgment, that the destruction of\nthe Catholic Church is the one thing aimed at. It is really amusing\nto see how opinions change. Some years ago, the liberal press spoke\nof the Catholic religion with the greatest disrespect and contempt.\nThe Pope was a feeble old man, and Catholicity tottering to its fall;\nit was, in fact, not only lifeless, but even unfit to live. To-day,\nhowever, this same liberal press proclaims the very reverse. The Pope\nis now so dangerous that Bismarck is already using every effort to\nsecure at the next election of a pope a man who has what is popularly\ncalled _extended views_, and who will make very little use of the\nextraordinary powers of his office. It has become evident to the\nliberals that Catholicity is by no means a worn-out, dead thing, but\nthat it is to be feared and is strong enough even to overthrow the new\nGerman Empire.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou make the newspapers of too much consequence,\u201d replied Schulze.\n\u201cOur journalists write under great restrictions, of course; but they\nare well paid for their work, and cost us a great deal of money.\nBismarck\u2019s organ, _The North-German General Gazette_, alone costs the\nempire every year over twenty thousand dollars. Bismarck, nevertheless,\nhas a very low opinion of newspaper-writers; he calls them, as is\nwell known, _his swine-herds_. You cannot, however, deny the fact,\nprofessor, that the Catholic Church is hostile to the empire.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you ask me as an historian, Herr Schulze, I must contradict some\nof your assertions,\u201d said Beck. \u201cThe Catholic Church is a spiritual\npower, but is not hostile to the empire, as far as the new empire\naspires after the liberal development of noble ideas. Culture,\nfreedom, civilization, true humanity, are children of the Catholic\nChurch. As you know, Herder, our great writer, has said: \u2018Without the\nCatholic Church, Europe would have become in all probability the prey\nof despots, the theatre of perpetual discord and strife, or else a\nvast desert.\u2019 If, however, the new German Empire intends to introduce\na Russian form of government, and with it servitude and the knout,\nthen, of course, the Catholic Church will fearlessly manifest her\ndispleasure.\u201d\n\nThe governor and Herr Schulze opened their eyes, and gazed with\nastonishment and suspicion upon the daring speaker.\n\n\u201cDo not forget,\u201d remarked Von Sempach, \u201cthat my friend speaks only from\na historical standpoint.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the whole you are right, Herr Beck!\u201d exclaimed the governor. \u201cThe\nCatholic Church confuses the minds of the people by preaching about\n_liberty_, _about being the children of God_, about _the dignity of\nman_, and all such absurdities. The Pope and his priests make their\npeople proud, obstinate, and rebellious, and difficult to manage. Mark\nmy prediction, Herr Schulze: you cannot introduce the Russian form of\ngovernment into Germany until Catholicity is exterminated.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will rid ourselves of it,\u201d said Schulze confidently. \u201cThe Jesuits\nare already expelled, and now we are using stringent measures to\nsuppress their kith and kin\u2014that is, all the orders and convents\u2014so\nthat we shall gradually have the Catholic Church under the same\nsubjection as it is in Russia. And have you noticed, gentlemen, how\nquietly all has been effected? The Jesuits were sent away without the\nleast opposition on the part of the Catholics; the riot at Essen was\nonly the demonstration of a few workmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere was, however, great excitement among the liberals,\u201d replied Von\nSempach; \u201cfor, when the German religious were innocently proscribed and\nforcibly driven from their homes, the national liberals applauded and\ncried out \u2018Bravo!\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you imagine, Herr Schulze,\u201d said Beck, \u201cthat the patient endurance\nof Catholics in witnessing the expulsion of their priests is not\ndangerous, you deceive yourself. Their manner of combat, however, is a\nvery singular one. Recourse to arms, or rebellion against authority, is\nforbidden them by their religion; but history teaches that the weapons\nemployed by the Catholic Church have proved most disastrous to all\nher enemies. And it is to me as clear as the sun at noon-day that, in\nconsequence of this persecution of the church, the German Empire will\nsuccumb.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou speak in riddles, Herr Beck!\u201d said Schulze. \u201cWhat do you mean when\nyou speak of the Catholic manner of combat?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat which is, in fact, the very essence of Catholicity,\u201d answered\nthe professor. \u201cCatholics believe that Jesus Christ, the Son of God,\nis the founder of their church; they know that God will never abandon\nhis church, because he has promised to abide always with her. Since\nthey are forbidden to conspire and rebel, they have recourse to prayer,\nand they pray to Almighty God to keep his word\u2014in my opinion, a very\ndangerous mode of combat; for no power, not even that of the new German\nEmpire, can stand against the Lord. And it is a remarkable truth\nthat the Catholics, for over 1,800 years, have conquered all their\noppressors. If Bismarck should commence to boil and roast Catholics, as\ndid Nero and other cruel tyrants who persecuted them for three hundred\nyears, he would meet with the same fate that befell the pagan emperors\nof Rome.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you say, professor, is no doubt incontrovertible, for the facts\nare historical,\u201d replied Schulze. \u201cWe do not, however, intend, for\nthe present, to either boil or roast Catholics, and it is not even\nnecessary to adopt such severe measures. If the liberal government\nonce gets undisputed control of all the academies and public schools,\nCatholicity must naturally die out.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnother deception, Herr Schulze,\u201d replied Beck. \u201cThe apostate\nEmperor Julian, fifteen hundred years ago, adopted this very plan of\nexterminating Catholics. He established infidel instead of Christian\nschools; but the Emperor Julian perished, together with his empire,\nwhile the Catholic Church still exists, and is the terror of her\nenemies.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have heard enough!\u201d exclaimed the governor. \u201cWe will not deny the\nassertion of our learned friend. The Catholics in the new German Empire\ncan suffer and pray, and look for assistance from above, until they say\ntheir dying prayer, as they do in Poland.\u201d\n\nFrom the eyes of the professor there shone a brilliant ray of light.\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken, Governor Rasumowski,\u201d said he; \u201cnot Catholic Poland,\nbut the Russian Empire, is saying its dying prayer.\u201d\n\nIf lightning had come down from heaven, it would not have made a\ngreater impression upon the Russian when he heard Beck\u2019s remark.\n\n\u201cYou seem astonished, governor,\u201d said the professor. \u201cAre you really\nignorant of what a volcano the Russian Empire is standing upon? I\nhave made diligent inquiries upon the subject, and know something of\nthe interior dissensions that prevail in Russia. The present emperor\nis also aware of it; for his father, when dying, admonished him,\nsaying: \u2018Soucha (that is, Alexander), take care, lest thou become the\nLouis XVI. of Russia!\u2019 Excuse my candor, and permit me to wish you\ngood-morning, as I intend to accompany my friend to the city.\u201d\n\nThe two young men walked through the garden, followed by the angry\nlooks of the Prussian and the Russian.\n\nSevere weather prevailed for some days. Excursions into the country\nwere out of the question. Schulze visited the public institutions of\nthe city, which were managed according to the Russian system.\n\nOne day, Von Sempach found the professor busily writing in his room.\n\n\u201cAre you taking notes, Edward?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am collecting important Russian items to send to Bolanden, that he\nmay use them for the good of the German people, and for the benefit\nof other nations, who do not desire to be governed according to the\nRussian mode.\u201d\n\n\u201cI protest against it,\u201d replied Von Sempach. \u201cI have no desire to\nfigure in a novel.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not excite yourself, my dear Adolph! Bolanden will change our\nnames, and perhaps call the gentleman from Berlin _Schulze_. How is\nAlexandra?\u201d\n\nThe young man sighed heavily, and seemed greatly distressed.\n\n\u201cI wish that I had never known her!\u201d said he; \u201cfor I can tell you, in\nconfidence, that a deformed soul dwells in her beautiful body. Her\npride is insufferable, her want of feeling repulsive; in fact, she is\nutterly devoid of those amiable qualities of heart and mind which a\nwoman must possess in order to make a happy home.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is the child of a Russian governor, who, by means of the pleti and\nSiberia, keeps in subjection the serfs of the divine emperor,\u201d replied\nBeck. \u201cI told Schulze and the governor my real opinion in regard to\nthe decayed condition of the empire of the czar, and yet I was very\ntemperate in my language; I should have added that Almighty God also\nis the arbiter of nations, and suffers the continuance of Russian\nbarbarities only to show how deeply empires can sink, and how wicked\nmen can become, when an emperor has unlimited command in church and\nstate. The same result will take place in Germany, if she takes Russia\nas her model.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope you will not use such expressions before Rasumowski,\u201d said\nAdolph warningly.\n\n\u201cNo; we must not cast the pearls of truth before swine, for they would\nperhaps attack us with their Cossacks and the pleti!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy do you jest?\u201d said Adolph. \u201cThe discoveries I have made concerning\nAlexandra\u2019s real nature have made me very sad. Why must I bind myself\nfor ever to such a creature?\u201d\n\n\u201cReason and the desire for true happiness forbid it!\u201d answered the\nprofessor. \u201cYou are free, and not a Russian serf. Act like a man;\ndestroy the magic charm which her fatal beauty has woven around you. My\ntravelling-bag is ready, let us go back to your dear mother Olga. I am\ndisgusted with everything in this corrupt, stupid Russian Empire.\u201d\n\nThe servant of Von Sempach now announced dinner. As the two friends\nentered the dining-room, Schulze, with an air of triumph, held out a\nnewspaper.\n\n\u201cHerr Beck, you cannot say now that the Germans are unwilling to adopt\nthe Russian form of government,\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cHere, read _The Cross\nGazette_. You remember what trouble we had with reference to the\nvillage of huts which some miserable and poverty-stricken wretches\nhad built outside the gates of Berlin. Well, these huts have been all\nremoved, according to the Russian method.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I understand!\u201d said the professor, who had read the article. \u201c_The\nCross Gazette_ announces that the President of Police, Herr von Madai,\nhad given orders to several hundred policemen and soldiers to take\ndown, in the night from Monday to Tuesday, the collection of huts\noutside of the Landsberg-gate; the poor settlers, who were roused from\ntheir sleep, were driven away without difficulty, although the men\nmurmured, and the women and children wept; but there was otherwise no\ndisturbance or resistance. What a fine contribution to the history of\nthe new German Empire!\u201d added Beck.\n\n\u201cIs it not also stated,\u201d asked Adolph, whose face was glowing with\nindignation, \u201cthat the humanity on which they pride themselves held the\ntorch while the sorrowing women and children were driven from their\nwretched homes into the cold, dark night?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Von Sempach, do not be so sentimental!\u201d exclaimed the governor.\n\u201cBe like a Russian, who wastes very little time or sympathy on such\noccasions.\u201d\n\nDinner was served. Alexandra had never appeared more lovely; her\ntoilet was exquisite. She had remarked the serious deportment of her\nbetrothed; for she made use of every species of blandishment in order\nto regain possession of his heart.\n\nBut something happened which brought matters to a crisis.\n\nThe dessert had just been laid, when a servant of the governor handed\nhim an official paper. He had only read a few lines, when a grim smile\ndiffused itself over his face.\n\n\u201cI have a surprise for you, gentlemen!\u201d said he. \u201cThe nearest Prussian\npolice-station has had the kindness to deliver up to me the Jesuit F.\nIndura, so that I may forward him to his native place, Kosow.\u201d\n\n\u201cA Jesuit? Oh! that\u2019s imperial!\u201d exclaimed Alexandra, filled with\ncuriosity. \u201cI have heard so much of the Jesuits, and wish to see one.\nPapa, will you not have him brought here?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it gives you pleasure, why not? That is, if our honored guests have\nno objection.\u201d\n\n\u201cNone at all, governor!\u201d replied Adolph von Sempach, with stern\nformality. \u201cYou alone have to decide.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I think that it is always praiseworthy to be willing to see and\nhear a Jesuit,\u201d said Beck.\n\n\u201cTell the commissioner of police,\u201d commanded Rasumowski, \u201cto bring\nbefore me without delay the Jesuit of Kosow!\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! that will be interesting!\u201d exclaimed Alexandra. \u201cI am so anxious\nto see a man who belongs to that terrible order which has sold itself\nto the devil, and labors only in the interest of hell.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you really believe what you say, mademoiselle?\u201d asked Von Sempach,\nin astonishment.\n\n\u201cCertainly! I have often read in the newspapers shocking things about\nthe Jesuits. They are said to possess in an extraordinary degree the\npower of deceiving people, and they owe this spiritual power to Satan,\nwith whom they are in league.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have derived your information from the Vienna _New Free Press_, is\nit not so?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt may be, I do not know exactly. The new German Empire, in its fear\nof God and love of morality, acts very prudently in expelling these\ndiabolical Jesuits.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut suppose these diabolical Jesuits come to Russia?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! we are not afraid of them; we will send them to Siberia!\u201d\n\n\u201cHere comes the Jesuit,\u201d said Rasumowski, when he heard the clattering\nsound made by the guards\u2019 sabres.\n\nDeep silence reigned in the dining-room. All sat with their eyes\nintently fixed upon the door. In the hall were heard heavy, weary\nsteps, as though an aged or sick man was moving forward with great\ndifficulty. Then a hand appeared, grasping the side of the door, and\nfinally the Jesuit father, a tall, thin man, very much bent, and\nleaning on a cane.\n\n\u201cCome in, quick!\u201d cried out Rasumowski roughly.\n\nF. Indura staggered into the room. The door was closed after him.\n\nThose who were present gazed in silence at the suffering priest, who\ncould hardly stand on his feet, and who leaned exhausted against the\nwall. Although still young, the incredible hardships that he had\nundergone of fatigue as well as of hunger and thirst seemed to have\nentirely destroyed the bodily strength of the Jesuit. His face was\ndeathly pale, and the hand which held his wide-brimmed hat trembled\nfrom excessive weakness. His black habit was covered with dust, as if\nhe had been driven like a prisoner on the highway. Upon his breast\nthere hung an honorable sign of distinction, bestowed by the new German\nEmpire\u2014the iron cross. After having saluted those present, this victim\nof modern humanity and liberal justice silently awaited the command of\nthe Russian governor.\n\n\u201cYour name is Indura, and you come from Kosow?\u201d commenced the governor.\n\n\u201cYes, your honor!\u201d answered the priest, in a feeble voice.\n\n\u201cYou have been expelled by the Prussian government, and in the holy\nRussian Empire you can find an abiding-place, and perhaps secure for\nyourself a splendid position, if you will renounce the Society of\nJesus, and embrace the Russian state religion. Are you determined to do\nthis?\u201d asked the governor.\n\n\u201cNo, your honor! I prefer death to apostasy!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, we will not hang you yet awhile!\u201d brutally exclaimed the\ngovernor. \u201cBut we can send you to the mines of Siberia.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will be impossible, sir!\u201d replied the Jesuit, with a faint smile.\n\u201cfor my strength is too far gone ever to reach Siberia.\u201d\n\nVon Sempach had until now been a quiet spectator of the scene;\nalternate feelings of compassion and indignation filled his breast\nwhenever he looked at the priest. He turned to Alexandra, in whose\nimpassive features not a vestige of sympathy was visible.\n\n\u201cMademoiselle,\u201d said he in a subdued voice, \u201ca work of mercy is\nnecessary in this case. This poor clergyman is dying from exhaustion.\nWill you have any objection if I offer him my seat?\u201d\n\nThe Russian lady turned fiercely around, like a serpent that had been\ntrodden upon.\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, sir?\u201d she answered, with a proud disdain. \u201cDo you\nthink that I will grant such a disgraceful request?\u201d\n\nAn angry flush overspread the face of the young man; his eyes gleamed\nwith a new light, and a proud, contemptuous smile wreathed his lips.\nAlexandra at this moment had for ever forfeited the love of a heart of\nwhich she was unworthy.\n\nThe governor meantime continued his questions.\n\n\u201cAs you still wish to remain a Jesuit,\u201d said he, \u201cthat is, a man\ndangerous to the empire, an enemy of modern civilization, you will be\nsent to Siberia!\u201d\n\n\u201cWill your honor not procure me a passport to India?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you want to do in India?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have missions there,\u201d replied the priest. \u201cAs it is my vocation to\nwork for the salvation of souls, I wish to preach there the doctrine of\nChrist according to my humble capacity.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must reflect upon your petition,\u201d replied the governor. \u201cThe\ngovernment may not wish the Jesuits to continue their activity even in\nIndia. For the present, you must go to prison!\u201d\n\nThe priest made a motion to leave, but his strength failed him, and a\ncold sweat appeared in large drops upon his forehead. Then Adolph von\nSempach rose.\n\n\u201cGovernor Rasumowski,\u201d said he, \u201cI do not believe that I shall appeal\nin vain to your feelings as a man. I therefore urgently beseech you to\nallow me to offer some refreshment to this exhausted gentleman from\nyour hospitable table.\u201d\n\nVon Sempach spoke in such an earnest tone of voice that it seemed\nimpossible to refuse him.\n\n\u201cIf you wish to assume the character of the good Samaritan, Von\nSempach, I do not object,\u201d answered the Russian, making a great effort\nto conceal his real displeasure.\n\nAdolph approached the weak and feeble priest, and, giving him the\nsupport of his arm, led him to his seat.\n\n\u201cAllow me, reverend sir, to serve you.\u201d\n\nThe Jesuit looked at him with gratitude, and Adolph commenced to fill\nhis plate. The half-starved owner of the iron cross began to eat, and\nlike a lamp whose dying flame is revived when oil is poured upon it,\nso also was it with the proscribed priest, who soon felt the benefit of\nAdolph\u2019s tender care.\n\nAlexandra had left the room when she saw that her father would grant\nthe request of Von Sempach. With an expression of unutterable scorn and\ndisgust, she gathered up the train of her rich silk dress, and retired\nto her own apartment.\n\n\u201cWill the new German Empire send us any more of such guests?\u201d asked the\ngovernor, who was filled with suppressed wrath at seeing a Jesuit at\nhis table.\n\n\u201cHardly!\u201d replied Schulze. \u201cThe majority of the Jesuits are Germans or\nSwiss; there are only a few Poles among them.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre only the foreigners expelled, and not the Germans?\u201d asked the\nRussian.\n\n\u201cNo Jesuit, even if he be a German, can remain in the new German\nEmpire, and discharge any sacerdotal or educational functions,\u201d replied\nSchulze.\n\n\u201cIt has made a very strange impression upon me,\u201d said the professor,\n\u201cto see men condemned and treated like criminals, against whom not the\nleast fault can be proved. Even the bitterest enemies of the Jesuits\nconfessed this at the Diet, saying, \u2018We find no fault in them!\u2019 An\nold proverb asserts that \u2018Justice is the foundation of kingdoms.\u2019 The\nconduct of Russia against Poland excepted, there is not a similar\nexample in modern history.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs your remark intended as a reproach, Professor Beck?\u201d asked the\nRussian.\n\n\u201cI refer only to historical facts,\u201d replied the professor. \u201cMy personal\nopinion has nothing to do with it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I must openly acknowledge to you my belief that Germany acts\nvery prudently in imitating the Russian method in treating defiant\nCatholics!\u201d retorted the governor.\n\n\u201cThen, we shall have violence done to conscience, and the destruction\nof human liberty in the highest sense of the word,\u201d said the\nprofessor. \u201cFrom this tyranny of conscience would result, as a natural\nconsequence, a state of slavery and a demoralized condition of affairs.\nReligion would cease to ennoble man, because her enemies would\nmisrepresent her doctrines in such a way that she would cease to be the\nrevelation of God; she would become a machine of the state, and this\nmachine would be called a National Church\u2014a hideous thing that would\nprove to be the grave of all liberty. Finally, an abyss would open, and\nswallow up the whole; for Almighty God will not suffer the wickedness\nof man to go beyond a certain length. History records his punishments;\nas, for example, the Deluge, the destruction of the kingdoms belonging\nto the Babylonians and Persians, the destruction of Jerusalem and of\nthe Jewish nation.\u201d\n\nRasumowski was about to answer, when the Jesuit father rose from his\nchair.\n\n\u201cSir!\u201d said he to Adolph von Sempach, \u201cyou have, in truth, performed a\nwork of mercy. May the Lord in heaven reward you!\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has already done so, your reverence!\u201d replied Von Sempach, with a\nlook at Alexandra\u2019s vacant seat.\n\n\u201cAccept my grateful thanks, your honor!\u201d said Indura to the Russian.\n\n\u201cThat will do!\u201d interrupted the governor. \u201cThe commissioner is waiting\nfor you.\u201d\n\nAdolph left the room with the priest.\n\n\u201cAll learned gentlemen do not seem to approve of the war of\nextermination against the Catholic Church,\u201d said Schulze, in a\nslightly ironical tone.\n\n\u201cAt least, not those who have preserved some sense of justice,\u201d replied\nBeck. \u201cI cannot understand how so many millions of Catholics can\nsubmit to be insulted and threatened in a way that should excite the\nindignation of Christendom.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is all very clear,\u201d explained Schulze. \u201cA national church is to be\nestablished in Germany, just as it is in Russia. Protestantism sees the\nnecessity of the change, and makes no resistance; but it is not so with\nCatholicity.\u201d\n\n\u201cI agree to the last assertion, Herr Schulze,\u201d said Beck. \u201cFrom the\nvery earliest ages there have been cowardly bishops and cowardly\npriests; but the Catholic Church has never made concessions in matters\nof faith, and will never do so in all time to come.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor this very reason she must be exterminated, even if we have to\nresort to extreme measures,\u201d answered the great official of Berlin, in\na transport of passion.\n\n\u201cAnd do you believe in the possibility of extermination?\u201d asked Beck.\n\n\u201cWhy not? The educated portion of the world has long since repudiated\nall belief in the nursery tales of religion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI most solemnly protest against your remarks,\u201d said the professor.\n\u201cReligion is as much a nursery tale as is the existence of God, who\nmanifests himself in his works; the most wonderful work of whose hands\nis the Catholic Church, particularly her miraculous preservation. While\neverything else in the course of time falls into decay; while the\nproudest nations disappear from the face of the earth, leaving scarce a\ntrace behind them; while sceptres are constantly passing from the hands\nof rulers, the chair of Peter stands immovable. No intelligent man can\nrefuse to respect and admire the Catholic religion. On the other hand,\nI do not deny that liberalism in its spiritually rotten condition,\ndevoid as it is of every high aspiration, is ripe for the establishment\nof a national church, which is to be fashioned after the Russian model.\nThe new German Emperor-pope will be able, without opposition from the\nliberals, to introduce the Russian catechism. Liberalism will not\nobject to the introduction of the pleti and to a Siberia; for it is\nservile, without principle, and utterly demoralized. Those Germans,\nhowever, who have preserved their holy faith, their dignity as men,\nand their self-respect, are no slaves, and will never wear the yoke of\nRussian servitude.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, you insult me!\u201d vociferated the Russian governor.\n\n\u201cIn what manner do I insult you?\u201d said Beck. \u201cYou yourself maintained a\nfew days ago that the Russians were all serfs of the czar.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, they are; but I will not allow you to speak of it with such\ncontempt,\u201d responded the irritated dignitary.\n\n\u201cSince we are not as yet serfs in the new German Empire,\u201d said the\nprofessor earnestly, \u201cyou will permit a free man to express his views.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, I will not allow you to do so!\u201d cried Rasumowski, with a loud\nvoice. \u201cIf you were not, unfortunately, the friend of my future\nson-in-law, I would send you to Siberia as a man dangerous to the\nempire.\u201d\n\nThe professor rose.\n\n\u201cGovernor!\u201d he exclaimed, in a tone of unmistakable self-restraint,\n\u201cyour rudeness makes it impossible for me to stay one moment longer\nunder your roof. The very thought of having received your hospitality\nis painful to me.\u201d\n\nAt this moment, Adolph von Sempach appeared.\n\n\u201cGovernor Rasumowski,\u201d said he, \u201cI have come to say farewell. Your\ndaughter, whom I have seen, will communicate to you the reasons of my\ndeparture.\u201d\n\nThe Russian, with widely distended eyes, looked with astonishment at\nthe young nobleman, who bowed and disappeared with his friend the\nprofessor.\n\nAt the entrance of the palace, the servant of Von Sempach held open the\ndoor of a carriage. The friends entered, and drove to the depot.\n\n\u201cBut, Adolph, how do you feel? Tell me what has happened!\u201d asked Beck.\n\n\u201cThat which had to be done, unless I chose to make myself unhappy for\nmy whole life,\u201d replied Von Sempach. \u201cI have broken my engagement with\nAlexandra.\u201d\n\n\u201cI congratulate you from my whole heart!\u201d said Beck, warmly pressing\nthe hand of his friend.\n\nThe next morning, the Baroness Olga welcomed the returned travellers;\nand when Adolph related what had happened, joy and happiness\nilluminated the face of the good mother, who embraced and kissed her\nson. The professor stood smiling at her side.\n\n\u201cYou see, most gracious lady,\u201d said he, \u201cthat the study of Russian\naffairs is very apt to convince every good German of the impossibility\nof obtaining real happiness and prosperity from the land of the knout.\u201d\n\nA few days later the poor people exclaimed: \u201cOur mother Olga is well\nagain; her eyes have lost their sad expression, and the kind smile has\nreturned to her lips.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMY COUSIN\u2019S INTRODUCTION.\n\nTHE only fault we could possibly find with the Gastons was that they\nwere Roman Catholics.\n\nTrue, they were our own cousins, quite as well off as ourselves, and as\nwell educated and respectable as any family in the country; but then,\nbeing Romanists, you know, they associated with such queer people, had\nsuch singular notions, and attended a church filled every Sunday with\nfamilies that you and I would never think of speaking to, you know.\n\nAunt Mildred went to Mass with them one Sabbath, just out of curiosity,\nand declared there wasn\u2019t a decent bonnet in the whole congregation\noutside of Cousin Mary\u2019s pew; and father, who looked in at the chapel\non Christmas Day, told us he didn\u2019t see a single carriage at the\nentrance\u2014nothing but a lot of farmers\u2019 and workingmen\u2019s wagons.\n\nNevertheless, the Gastons were charming people. Our affection for\nthem went to the full extent of our cousinly relationship, and I\nin particular\u2014by the way, I forgot to introduce myself\u2014George\nWilloughby, at your service, just twenty-one\u2014nice age, isn\u2019t it?\nGraduated at\u2014but I won\u2019t mention what college in New England, lest\nyou might expect too much of me. Well, as I was saying\u2014and I in\nparticular had conceived quite an attachment for my Cousin Richard\nGaston. He was three years my senior, had received his education in\nsome out-of-the-way Catholic college situated on the top or at the\nfoot\u2014I really forget which\u2014of some mountain among the Alleghenies. We\nhad frequently met and exchanged visits during our vacations, and the\nonly objection I had to Cousin Dick was that on these occasions he made\nno end of fun of my Protestant Latin pronunciation, asking me to read a\npage of Virgil, and then rolling over in his chair, splitting his sides\nwith laughter. What he found so comical in my recitation I could not\nimagine. I saw nothing in it to laugh at. This was several years ago. I\nnow know the cause of his mirth.\n\nBut even if Dick did make fun of my Latin, and call it barbarous,\nhe was a good fellow, although I must say that at times he presumed\na little upon his seniority so as to be a trifle mentorish. Indeed,\nI loved him as a friend, independently of my affection for him as a\nrelative. He was considerate, too, and never troubled me with any of\nhis Romanish notions, except when I sometimes asked him a question\nabout the church, or touching some point in Catholic history, and\nthen I generally received more information than I either expected or\ndesired. One of these occasions I well remember, for the conversation\neventually led to serious results for me. I had gone down to spend a\nweek with the Gastons. One rainy afternoon\u2014too wet to drive over to\nthe village, as we had intended\u2014I had just waded through the strange,\neventful story of that gay and festive American citizen, Mr. St. Elmo,\nand, as usual when at a loss for something to do, I began to look\naround for Dick.\n\nI soon found him in the library, but so entirely engrossed with a book\nthat he did not notice my entrance.\n\n\u201cWhat are you reading?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said he, \u201cnothing that would interest you.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me see?\u201d I took the book, and read the title-page: _Introduction\nto a Devout Life. From the French of S. Francis of Sales._ \u201cWhy, Dick,\u201d\nsaid I, \u201cthis is Thursday, not Sunday.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said I, \u201con Sunday you get out the Bible, or some pious book,\nand read a spell\u2014needn\u2019t read very long, you know, about enough to\nkeep your face straight for the rest of the day. It\u2019s the thing to\ndo\u2014good young man, and all that sort of thing, you know\u2014_Cela vous\npose_, as the French say; but as to pious reading, except for that or\nto fight a rainy Sabbath with\u2014never heard of such a thing. But what\u2019s\nyour book about? Who is your Sales man? Some old \u2018stick-in-the-mud\u2019 of\na stupid hermit, eh?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour phrase is not of the politest,\u201d replied Dick, \u201cbut I will answer\nyour question. S. Francis of Sales was not what you describe, but an\nelegant, accomplished gentleman, a graduate of the Sorbonne at Paris,\nand of the University of Padua, where, after a brilliant examination,\nhe took the degree of doctor of laws with great distinction.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat might all be,\u201d I answered, for I was determined not to accept\nDick\u2019s saint without a fight, as was indeed my duty, being a staunch\nProtestant\u2014a _r\u00f4le_ no one need ever have any trouble in filling,\nfor, as I understand it, you have nothing to do but deny everything\nthe Romanists assert\u2014\u201cthat might all be. I suppose he took refuge in\norders and sanctimony because he had a game-leg, like your Loyola man\nthere\u2014what do you call him? yes, S. Ignatius\u2014brave fellow, by the\nway, and a good soldier\u2014or else he was jilted by some handsome girl.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing of the kind. His early years, his youth, his student life, and\nhis advent in the world were all marked by a modesty, a purity, and a\npiety that seemed to be the sure precursor of a saintly life.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh,\u201d said I, \u201cI have it now. He must have been a hard-featured fellow,\nso ugly, most probably, that, piety being his only resource, he became\na regular old square-toes of a monk in advance of the mail.\u201d\n\nMy cousin took a new book off the table, and said, \u201cHow ugly he was you\nshall hear from his Protestant biographer.[51] Listen:\n\n \u201c\u2018A commanding stature, a peculiar though unstudied dignity of manner,\n he habitually moved somewhat slowly, as though to check the natural\n impetuosity of a vigorous, healthy frame; regular though marked\n features, to which a singularly sweet smile, large blue eyes, and\n pencilled eyebrows gave great beauty; a complexion of almost feminine\n delicacy, in spite of ceaseless exposure to all weathers. His voice\n was deep and rich in tone; and, according to one who knew him, he was\n in appearance at once so bright and serious that it was impossible to\n conceive a more imposing presence.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s all very well,\u201d I answered, determined not to give it up\nyet; \u201cbut that work of his you were reading, that _Devout life_,\nis nothing but a string of prayers anyhow, isn\u2019t it?\u2014a sort of a\ndown-on-your-marrowbones manual?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite the reverse, my dear George. When the book was first published,\nit was seized upon with avidity, and became immensely popular,\nprecisely because its author, not content with prescribing rules for\nexterior acts of devotion, sought also to lead souls into the interior\nlife of piety. But judge for yourself. Let me read now a short extract\nfrom the very first chapter, and you will at once see that, in the\nopinion of S. Francis of Sales, the mere down-on-your-marrowbones\nperformance, as you not very elegantly phrase it, will not, of itself,\ntake you to heaven.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cDick, this is getting to be rather more than I\nbargained for; but I\u2019ll fight it out on this line if it takes me till\ntea-time. So go on.\u201d And he read:\n\n \u201cAs Aurelius painted all the faces of his pictures in the air and\n resemblance of the woman he loved, so every one paints devotion\n according to his own passion and fancy. He that is addicted to\n fasting, thinks himself very devout if he fasts, though his heart\n be at the same time filled with rancor; and, scrupling to moisten\n his tongue with wine, or even with water, through sobriety, he\n hesitates not to drink deep of his neighbor\u2019s blood by detraction and\n calumny. _Another considers himself devout because he recites daily\n a multiplicity of prayers_, though immediately afterwards he utters\n disagreeable, arrogant, and injurious words amongst his domestics and\n neighbors. Another cheerfully draws alms out of his purse to relieve\n the poor, but cannot draw meekness out of his heart to forgive his\n enemies. Another readily forgives enemies, but never satisfies his\n creditors but by constraint. These by some are esteemed devout, while,\n in reality, they are by no means so.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s pretty plain talk,\u201d was my comment\u2014\u201ca good deal plainer than\nthey give it to us down at our meeting-house. It sets a fellow to\nthinking, too.\u201d And here I was about to make a damaging admission,\nwhen I fortunately recollected that I was in line of battle, with my\nenemy in front. So I charged again with: \u201cOh! it\u2019s easy enough to write\nor preach the most pious precepts, and, at the same time, not be at\nall remarkable for their practice. If your Sales man was such a fine\ngentleman as you describe, I strongly suspect that that very fact kept\nhim pretty closely tied to the world, and that he may have been, after\nall, a mere ornamental guide-post to point out to others the road he\nhad no idea of travelling himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cGeorge, you are incorrigible, and I doubt that you really believe\nthe half of what you are saying. But I shall not ask you to accept my\nopinion of S. Francis of Sales\u2019 personal piety. Here is a Protestant\nestimate of it: \u2018There is a beauty, a symmetry, an exquisite grace of\nholiness, in all that concerns the venerable Bishop of Geneva which\nfascinates the imagination and fills the heart. Beauty, harmony,\nrefinement, simplicity, utter unself-consciousness, love of God and\nman, welling up and bursting forth as a clear fountain that never can\nbe stayed or staunched\u2014such are the images and thoughts that fill the\nmind as we dwell upon his memory.\u2019\n\n\u201cIt was in 1592,\u201d continued my cousin, \u201cthat Francis of Sales returned\nto the paternal mansion, after having been for twelve years a scholar\nat the universities, and a student of the great world. His father had\nambitious projects for the advancement of his only son. By agreement of\nthe parents on both sides, he was to marry a rich heiress, the daughter\nof the Seigneur de Vegy; and the reigning Duke of Savoy tendered him\nthe high position of senator; yet, notwithstanding the most energetic\nremonstrances and prayers of his father and many friends, he calmly\nbut resolutely declined both the marriage and the senatorial dignity,\nand in 1593 was received in minor orders by the Bishop of Geneva, and\nordained priest in December of the same year.\u201d\n\n\u201cAfter which,\u201d I interposed, \u201che, of course, had an easy time of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cListen, and you shall hear. The duchy of Chablais, adjoining\nthe Genevese territory, had in previous years been conquered and\noccupied by the Bernese, and, as one of the results, Calvinism became\npredominant. Restored to the Duke of Savoy in 1593 as the result of\ntreaties, it was important to provide for the spiritual wants of the\nfew scattered Catholics who remained. A learned and pious priest\nnamed Bouchut was sent to one of the towns of the Chablais, but was\ncompelled to leave it, on account of the fierce and hostile attitude\nof the inhabitants. It was soon understood that any Catholic priest\nwho undertook to minister there publicly would do so at his peril.\nThere was an absolute necessity that some one should go, but the\nBishop of Geneva naturally hesitated to order any of his priests to so\ndangerous a mission. He would gladly have sent Francis of Sales, for\nhe saw that he possessed all the qualities desirable in so critical an\nemergency\u2014bravery, firmness, prudence, and gentleness, besides a name\nand family position which commanded respect throughout the country.\nSorely embarrassed, the good bishop convened a chapter, and all his\necclesiastics were summoned to be present. He laid the matter before\nthem, together with the letters of the reigning duke, spoke plainly of\nthe difficulties and perils of the mission, and asked their counsel\nas to what should be done. As in the case of an overwhelming peril at\nsea, or a desperate charge on a fortified place, where the captain\nor commander hesitates to order men to certain death, and calls for\nvolunteers, so the good bishop in this manner really asked, \u2018Who will\nundertake this dangerous duty?\u2019\n\n\u201cAs the head of the chapter, it was for Francis of Sales to speak\nfirst. No one present knew as well as he the most serious dangers of\nthe proposed mission.\n\n\u201cAmid profound and discouraging silence, he arose, and said,\n\u2018Monseigneur, if you hold me capable of the work, and bid me undertake\nit, I am ready\u2019\u2014few words, but to the point. Information of what\nhad taken place soon reached Ch\u00e2teau de Sales, and in spite of his\nseventy-two years, the father instantly ordered his horse, and rode to\nAnnecy, where he imploringly remonstrated with his son, and begged him\nto withdraw his offer.\n\n\u201cFrom the son the old man went to the bishop, and protested in tears\nagainst the step about to be taken. \u2018I give up,\u2019 he exclaimed, \u2018my\nfirs-tborn, the pride and hope of my life, the stay of my old age, to\nthe church; I consent to his being a confessor; but I cannot give him\nto be a martyr.\u2019 The father\u2019s remonstrance was so powerful, his grief\nso violent, that the good bishop was deeply moved, and gave signs of\nwavering, when Francis, perceiving it, cried out: \u2018Monseigneur, be\nfirm, I implore you; would you have me prove myself unworthy of the\nkingdom of God? I have put my hand to the plough; would you have me\nlook back, and yield to worldly considerations?\u2019\n\n\u201cBut the father held out as well as the son. \u2018As to this undertaking,\u2019\nhe said to Francis, in parting, \u2018nothing can ever make me either\nsanction or bless it.\u2019 At the last moment, several priests offered\nthe brave volunteer to accompany him, but he would take no one but\nhis cousin, the Canon Louis de Sales. It would be a long but most\ninteresting history to go into the details of the Chablais mission.\nUnder other circumstances, the people of that province might have run\nthe risk of being dragooned into Catholicity as they had been into\nProtestantism. But the mild counsels of its noble apostle prevailed.\nAfter trials, labors, and dangers most formidable, his holy life\nand winning words of peace and reconciliation shamed persecution,\ntransformed hatred into respect and admiration, and the conversion of\nthe Chablais was the result of his holy daring. It was during this\nperiod that he even penetrated into the camp of the enemy, going to\nGeneva several times to visit Calvin\u2019s successor, Theodore Beza, then\nseventy-eight years of age.\n\n\u201cThe Apostle of the Chablais, as Francis de Sales was henceforth called\nby the reigning duke, was now urged by the aged Bishop of Geneva to\nbecome his coadjutor, and with great difficulty was almost forced\nto accept the position. He was soon after sent to Rome, to ask the\ngood offices of the sovereign pontiff in arranging a serious dispute\nbetween Savoy and France, as to whether Geneva was included in the\nprovisions of the treaty of Vervins. Having transacted the business\nof his mission, he was notified by Clement VIII. to prepare for a\npublic examination in his presence within a few days. It is related, as\ncharacteristic of his strong sense of justice and independence, that,\nwith all his reverence for pontifical authority, and his well-known\npersonal humility, the first impulse of Francis was to resist this\norder as an infringement upon his ecclesiastical rights. He laid the\nmatter before the ambassador of Savoy, who immediately sought an\naudience of his holiness. Clement VIII. at once recognized the validity\nof the objection, and promised that the case should not be treated as\na precedent. He had heard so much, he said, of the ability and talent\nof De Sales, that he was desirous of an opportunity of judging of it\nhimself, as was also the College of Cardinals. The order, it was then\nagreed, should stand, and the examination go on. The only preparation\nof Francis for this formidable trial was\u2014prayer. Indeed, there was no\ntime for any other, for there were but three days between the order and\nthe ordeal.\n\n\u201cAmong the cardinals before whom he appeared were Baronius, Federigo\nBorromeo, Borghese, and, among their assistants, the great Bellarmine.\nAdded to these was a crowd of archbishops, bishops, generals of\nreligious orders, and many eminent ecclesiastics of lesser dignity. A\nSpanish priest of distinguished learning, who was to have presented\nhimself with Francis for examination before this body, was so\noverpowered on entering the hall that he fainted. The scope of the\nexamination included civil law, canon law, and theology, but it was\nconfined to the last-named branch. Thirty-five questions were proposed,\nand every possible objection was raised by the examiners to all the\nanswers. The examination over, his holiness expressed his supreme\nsatisfaction, went to Francis, and embraced him in presence of the\nassembly, repeating the verse: \u2018Bibe, fili mi, aquam de cisterna tua,\net fluenta putei tui; deriventur fontes tui foras, et in plateis aquas\ntuas divide.\u2019[52]\n\n\u201cIn January, 1602, Francis was sent to Paris, charged with the\narrangement of certain ecclesiastical difficulties which had arisen in\nconsequence of the late transfer of the small territory of Gex from\nSavoy to France. Negotiations with royal ministers are proverbially\nslow, and a matter that Francis supposed might be terminated in six\ndays retained him at Paris six months. But for him this was not lost\ntime. He gave the course of Lenten sermons at the Royal Chapel,\npreached constantly in various churches and communities, and was so\ntireless in his spiritual labors that during these six months he is\nsaid to have delivered one hundred sermons. It was during this visit\nthat he suggested to Pierre de Berulle (afterwards cardinal) the\nfoundation in France of an order for the education of the clergy, on\nthe model of the Oratory established in Italy by S. Philip Neri. The\nproject was carried out, and in 1611, when the Oratory was established\nin France, its founder asked Francis of Sales to be its first superior.\n\n\u201cThe reigning King of France was then Henry IV. He so highly prized\nand admired De Sales that he offered him every inducement to remain in\nFrance. He recognized in Francis the possession of all the qualities\nand virtues belonging to the model ecclesiastic, and best calculated\nto make religion respected and loved in a community scarcely recovered\nfrom the evil effects of religious wars. The learned Cardinal du\nPerron also appeared to be of the same opinion, for he said: \u2018God has\ncertainly given him (De Sales) the key of hearts. If you want merely to\nconvince men, bring me all the heretics, and I will undertake to do it;\nbut if you want to convert them, take them to Mgr. de Gen\u00e8ve.\u2019\u201d[53]\n\n\u201cRichard, cousin of mine,\u201d said I, \u201cyour measure is Scriptural, heaped\nup and running over. I ask you a question about that little book there\non the table, and you give me the entire biography of your Saint of\nSales. It\u2019s all very edifying, certainly, but I want to know about the\nwork.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! _The Devout Life?_\u201d he replied. \u201cI will tell you. In the first\nplace, a singular fact connected with it is that the work was completed\nbefore S. Francis was aware that he had written a book. It happened\nthus: A young, beautiful, and wealthy lady of the fashionable Parisian\nworld was so impressed by a sermon preached by the Bishop of Geneva\nthat she resolved to lead a new life, and solicited his spiritual\nadvice. His counsels of enlightened piety soon taught her that it was\npossible to serve God with zeal without absolutely leaving the world.\nSeeing her but seldom, he wrote from time to time such instructions as\nhe wished to convey, and also answered her letters asking for further\nadvice. On a visit to Chamb\u00e9ry, Mme. de Charmoisy\u2014for that was the\nlady\u2019s name\u2014showed these papers to the learned and pious P\u00e8re Forrier,\nrector of the College of Jesuits at that place. He was so much struck\nwith their contents that he had them copied, and wrote to Francis of\nSales, now Bishop of Geneva, urging him to publish them. The bishop\ndid not at first understand what he meant, and replied that he had\nno talent for authorship, and no time to write. When the matter was\nexplained, and he ascertained that P\u00e8re Forrier had studied and written\nout what he called his \u2018few miserable notes,\u2019 he exclaimed: \u2018Truly,\nit is a wonderful thing that, according to these good people, I have\ncomposed a book without knowing it.\u2019 Very opportunely there reached him\nat this juncture a letter from the secretary of Henry IV. of France,\nexpressing his majesty\u2019s earnest wish that Mgr. de Gen\u00e8ve would write a\nwork setting forth the beauty of religion, and showing worldly people\nthat a life of piety was not incompatible with a busy, active career.\n\u2018No one,\u2019 said the king, \u2018could write such a book but Mgr. de Gen\u00e8ve.\u2019\n\n\u201cThus pressed on all sides, the bishop set to work, made some changes\nand additions[54] in the manuscript, and published it under the now\nfamiliar title of _Introduction to a Devout Life_.\n\n\u201cThe work had no model in French literature. It was neither apologetic\nnor controversial, but purely moral and advisory; and this was much\nin a period torn by religious dissensions and wars. Its success was\nenormous. Praises of the book and its author poured in upon all sides.\nExaggerated encomiums disturbed the good bishop. \u2018What!\u2019 he said,\n\u2018cannot God make fresh-water springs to come forth from the jaw-bone\nof an ass? These good friends of mine think of nothing but me and my\nglory, as though we might desire any glory for ourselves, and not\nrather refer it all to God, who alone works any good which may be in\nus.\u2019\n\n\u201cMeantime, the _Introduction_ was translated into all languages, and so\nwidely read[55] that it was called at the time the _breviary_ of people\nof the world.\n\n\u201cThe imagery and symbolism of the book are full of grace and\nattraction. It draws illustrations from pictures and flowers, and its\nstyle is rife with similes and images which light up the essential\nsolemnity of the subject. As Sainte-Beuve says, \u2018He puts plenty of\nsugar and honey on the edge of the vase.\u2019[56]\n\n\u201cBut this grace of language and of style is not obtained at the\nsacrifice of strength or of principle. The work has many passages full\nof sombre energy, and, in particular, a meditation on death (first\nbook), which displays something of the peculiar vigor of a similar\nchapter (twenty-third of the first book) in _Thomas \u00e0 Kempis_.\n\n\u201cThen, there is a sharpness of penetration and a delicacy of insight\nsurprising to those who have not closely watched the springs of human\naction and the workings of the human heart in themselves as well as in\nothers. Distinguished moralists, such as Montaigne and Franklin, have\ndiscoursed eloquently and effectively on the morals and motives of\nmen, but you will find in none of them the elevation and purity of S.\nFrancis of Sales. Take, for instance, the thirty-sixth chapter of the\nthird book, in which he points out the almost imperceptible motives of\npartiality and injustice which prompt us in everyday life to the most\nselfish acts, consulting only interest and passion, while we pretend\nto ourselves and others to be totally unconscious of anything in our\nconduct that is not entirely praiseworthy. Listen and see how admirably\nhe introduces the subject: \u2018It is reason alone that makes us men, and\nyet it is a rare thing to find men truly reasonable; because self-love\nordinarily puts us out of the path of reason, leading us insensibly to\na thousand small yet dangerous injustices and partialities, which, like\nthe little foxes spoken of in the _Canticle_ destroy the vines; for,\nbecause they are little, we take no notice of them; but, being great in\nnumber, they fail not to injure us considerably.\u2019\n\n \u201cNow, remark how unerringly he places his finger on spots and\n blemishes that to our eyes are apparently as white as snow:\n\n \u201c\u2018Are not the things of which I am about to speak unjust and\n unreasonable? We condemn every trifle in our neighbors, and excuse\n ourselves in things of importance; we want to sell very dearly, and\n to buy very cheaply; we desire that justice should be executed in\n another man\u2019s house, but mercy and connivance in our own; we would\n have everything we say taken in good part, but we are delicate and\n touchy with regard to what others say of us; we would insist on our\n neighbor parting with his goods, and taking our money; but is it not\n more reasonable that he should keep his goods, and leave us our money?\n We take it ill that he will not accommodate us; but has he not more\n reason to be offended that we should desire to incommode him?... On\n all occasions, we prefer the rich before the poor, although they be\n neither of better condition, nor more virtuous; we even prefer those\n who are best clad. We rigorously exact our own dues, but we desire\n that others should be gentle in demanding theirs: we keep our own\n rank with precision, but would have others humble and condescending;\n we complain easily of our neighbors, but none must complain of us;\n what we do for others seems always very considerable, but what others\n do for us seems as nothing. We have two balances: one to weigh to\n our own advantage, and the other to weigh in to the detriment of our\n neighbor. _Deceitful lips_, says the Scripture, _have spoken with a\n double heart_; and to have two weights, the one greater, with which we\n receive, and the other less, with which we deliver, is an abominable\n thing in the sight of God.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cThe book must be interesting,\u201d said I. \u201cYou must lend it to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cCandidly, George,\u201d my cousin answered, somewhat to my surprise, \u201cyou\nhad better select something else for your reading; for, if you wish\nmerely to pass away the time in its perusal, it will most certainly\ndisappoint you, and you will find it dry and dull. If, indeed, you\ndesire to read it with a motive corresponding to the author\u2019s aim in\nwriting it, that\u2019s quite another affair. The book is for the heart\nand the soul, not for the calculating head and worldly mind. There\u2019s\nnothing about it of what your admired Carlyle calls _dilettanteism_,\nand its object is your welfare\u2014not in this world, but in the next.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn what language,\u201d I inquired, \u201cwas this work written?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn French, of course.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Francis of Sales was, you say, a Savoyard?\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue,\u201d replied Dick; \u201cwhat then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, perhaps he didn\u2019t write pure French?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps not. You are an American, are you not, George?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course I am; what then?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, then, perhaps you don\u2019t speak the English language correctly. And\nthat,\u201d continued Dick, \u201creminds me, as our late President used to say,\nof a little story. You know that queer old original Major Eustace, who\nlives just beyond the lake. I heard him relate that, when a young man,\nhe was travelling in Europe, and found himself one fine day at Moscow\nwithout funds or tidings from home, except a letter advising him of\nthe failure of his father\u2019s house. This was at a time when travelling\nfacilities were far inferior to those of the present day. He could not\nget away, and so sat down and studied the Moscow advertisements. One\nof them demanded an English tutor for the two sons (aged respectively\nfourteen and sixteen years) of a Russian nobleman residing at a\nwell-known ch\u00e2teau near the city. Eustace was a college graduate. He\nfelt himself abundantly qualified for the position, and made instant\napplication. He was cordially received for the chances of obtaining\nan English tutor at Moscow were very slim. The Russian questioned\nEustace very closely as to his acquirements\u2014this conversation being,\nof course, in French\u2014and things went on swimmingly until he asked our\nAmerican cousin from what part of England he came. Eustace replied that\nhe was an American. The Russian\u2019s face fell. \u2018And what language do they\nspeak in America?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018In the United States we speak English,\u2019 replied Eustace.\n\n\u201c\u2018But it must be a _patois_,\u2019 objected the Russian.\n\n\u201c\u2018Not at all,\u2019 said Eustace. \u2018We have no dialects, and, taken as a\nbody, the American people speak better English than the people of\nEngland.\u2019\n\n\u201cThe Russian could not comprehend it. The result was that Eustace was\nnot engaged. Our nobleman went all the way to St. Petersburg for what\nhe wanted, and returned home triumphant with his born-English tutor.\nMeantime, Eustace found something else to do, and remained at Moscow\nlong enough to acquire the Russian language, and make many pleasant\nacquaintances. Being in London five years afterwards, he found the\nRussian colony there in a fit of Homeric laughter over the strange\nmishap of two young noblemen recently arrived from Moscow. Eustace at\nonce recognized the name of the Russian who insisted that Americans\nspeak a _patois_. His sons had been taught English by the tutor picked\nup in St. Petersburg, and, fortified with plenty of money and excellent\nletters of introduction, had been sent over to acquire the polish of a\nLondon season in the best English society. In this society, then, they\nmade their _d\u00e9but_ speaking English fluently in _the broadest Yorkshire\ndialect_!\n\n\u201cNow, to return to your Savoyard objection,\u201d continued my cousin. \u201cYou\nmust know, my dear George, that Savoy is essentially French in tongue\nand general characteristics of race. The French language is both spoken\nand written there in all its purity; and many authors of worldwide\nreputation as French writers are, in reality, Savoyards. There is, for\ninstance, Vaugelas the grammarian, Saint-R\u00e9al the historian, Ducis\nthe poet, the great Joseph de Maistre, his brother Xavier de Maistre,\nwhose _Voyage autour de ma Chambre_ I know you have read; and, in our\nown day, Cherbuliez, whose success as a novelist has made the Parisian\nromancers look sharply to their laurels. I have reserved mention of\nS. Francis of Sales for a special reason. He wrote at a period when\nthe French language under the influence of Malherbe was soon to settle\ndown into its modern form; and so pure is his language and phraseology,\neven tried by the highest French standard, that he is one of the model\nauthors adopted by the French Academy when its celebrated _Dictionary_\nof the language was undertaken. The list of prose writers included,\namong others, the names of Amyot, Montaigne, Charron, Arnauld, S.\nFrancis of Sales, Duplessis-Mornay, Cardinal du Perron, etc., etc.[57]\nS. Francis of Sales is thus, you perceive, a French classic. The\nEnglish translations we have of his works,\u201d continued my cousin, \u201cfail\nto do him justice.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said I, \u201cthe old story\u2014_traduttore_\u2014_traditore_[58]\u2014as the\nItalians say.\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely so, for the sense and substance; and then, for the form and\nsetting, a period of nearly three hundred years has so modified shades\nof signification and value in words which to-day apparently have the\nsame general meaning, that in our modern rendering the subtle aroma and\nthe more delicate beauties of thought and language appear to evaporate\nin the process of translation.\n\n\u201cThere is a certain charming simplicity and quaintness in the original\nto which our grand modern style refuses to bend; and it appears to me\nthat we might have had an English version of the _Devout Life_ really\nredolent of its author\u2019s spirit if it could possibly have been done by\none of that noble band of young Jesuit martyrs judicially murdered by\nQueen Elizabeth\u2014say Campion or Southwell, for instance, who wrote in\nthe English of Shakespeare\u2019s day\u2014a period exactly corresponding with\nthat of S. Francis de Sales.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo sum it all up, then,\u201d said I, \u201cyou ask me to accept this work as\nperfection, and yet refuse me an opportunity of judging for myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, George; for, although I contend that it is admirable\nand, indeed, unsurpassed for its purpose, I have already said that\na reader seeking in it purely literary gratification would most\ncertainly be disappointed. I will say more, for I will not allow you\nto monopolize the functions of _advocatus diaboli_: the book, to our\nnineteenth century eyes, has several defects.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by calling me the devil\u2019s advocate?\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, merely this, Cousin George. In our church, whenever it is\nproposed to canonize as a saint a person of holy life, there is a\nmember of the commission appointed to examine the case, whose duty it\nis rigidly to scrutinize all the testimony presented as to the holy\nlife of the deceased, to require the strictest proof, and to present\nand urge every valid objection to its saintliness, such as charges of\nany irregularity or lapse in conduct, morals, or faith. This official,\nin short, is a sort of infernal prosecuting attorney, and has hence\nreceived the descriptive nickname of _advocatus diaboli_. Now, it\nappears to me, Cousin George, that, from the moment our conversation\non the _Devout Life_ began, you have been plying his vocation pretty\nvigorously.\u201d\n\nI could not deny it, so I said nothing, and allowed Gaston to go on.\n\n\u201cNo; so far from claiming perfection for the work, I will volunteer\na criticism or two upon it. In the first place, there is an excess\nof symbolism, and the multitude of comparisons and images becomes\nfatiguing. Many of these images are full of grace and simplicity,\nespecially those drawn from the writer\u2019s observation of nature; for\nS. Francis of Sales, as we gather from this book, had a quick and\nsympathetic appreciation of the charm of landscapes, the song of birds,\nthe fascination of flowers, and the thousand beauties of nature visible\nonly to one who truly loves nature, and sincerely worships nature\u2019s\nGod. But there is an excess of all this; and when he gets beyond the\nline of personal sympathy and observation, the comparisons become\nstiff, and frequently violate good taste. Those drawn from natural\nhistory, for instance, are strained and incongruous. The writer must\nhave found his Paphlagonian partridges with two hearts in Pliny. There\nare many things, too, which to us appear to be in excessively bad\ntaste; but that is a defect not chargeable to the author individually,\nbut to the prevalent style of the age in which he lived. After all,\nthere are \u2018spots on the sun.\u2019 S. Francis of Sales did not write for\nfame as an author, nor, indeed, from any worldly motive. A \u2018classic\nstyle\u2019 and \u2018the French Academy\u2019 were inducements which never engaged\nhis attention. There is nothing of the rhetorician in his phrase, for\nit is almost familiar in its ease and simplicity. But there\u2019s the\ntea-bell, my dear George, probably a happy release for one of us, for I\nfear I have bored you dreadfully.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the contrary, my dear Dick, for I have been as much edified as\ninterested in the saintly life you have revealed to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, my dear boy, I haven\u2019t told you the half of it; nor, indeed, do I\nknow it thoroughly. But if it at all interests you, here it is.\u201d\n\nI read it, and have since read the lives and some few of the works of\nseveral other saints, with what result it does not interest the public\nto know. I can only say that I am going to fight it out on my present\nline if it takes till doomsday. Cousin Dick and I are firmer friends\nthan ever, and Aunt Mildred from time to time asks me, with a slight\ntone of sarcasm, if I saw any fashionable bonnets at our church last\nSabbath?\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\nCONFESSION.\n\nAT our return, we found my mother had prepared the dinner as usual on\nthe days we went into the country. We joyfully seated ourselves at\nthe table. What is more delightful than a family dinner? And we were\nall united. Louis was also in our midst. Victor was uncommonly lively\nthat evening. His face, so open, intelligent, and kind, was radiant.\nI had never seen him so social and witty. His animation enlivened us\nall\u2014we loved him so much! Excellent man! what made him so happy was\nthe remembrance of the good deed he had done at the peril of his life.\nI asked him more than twenty times that evening if he felt any worse,\nand if it were not advisable to send for a physician. He invariably\nreplied that he felt as well as the day before, and even better. But\nhis cough grew worse from that time, and caused me serious alarm.\nDuring dinner we conversed on general subjects, and afterwards went to\nthe _salon_. Victor installed himself beside the blazing fire which I\nalways had made for him in the evening. My mother and sister went up to\ntheir own apartments. We were thus left alone with M. Louis Beauvais.\nHe turned towards Victor with a look full of respect and affection, and\nI observed with astonishment that tears were streaming from his eyes.\n\n\u201cMadame,\u201d said he to me, \u201cI must appear strangely to you. Ah! that is\nnot the worst of it. I am a great sinner.\u201d\n\nVictor tried to stop him.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said he; \u201cI will not keep silence. Mme. Barnier must know\neverything, as well as you, noble-hearted man, whom I dare not call my\nfriend: I feel too unworthy.\u201d\n\nHe seated himself, and, sadly gazing into the fire, began his story in\na tone as grave and sorrowful as if he were making a solemn avowal of\nhis faults before dying:\n\nTen years ago, said he, I was a Christian, not only in name, but in\nheart and soul. My mother, a pious, energetic woman, such as we do not\nsee in our day, brought me up with extreme care, and I did my utmost\nto correspond to her efforts. It is so easy and delightful to practise\none\u2019s religion when one has faith, and feels that his endeavors are\nat once pleasing to a mother and to God! My other studies over, I\nbecame a candidate for the Polytechnic School, but was not successful\nin my application. I then entered another, in order to learn civil\nengineering. By the end of a year, I had given up all my pious habits\nthrough want of moral courage. My principles, however, remained firm\nenough to condemn me and fill me with remorse, but they were incapable\nof restraining one who had imbibed a taste for error. Even my mother\u2019s\ndeath and her last words, though they affected me, did not bring me to\na sense of duty. A short time after I completed my studies in civil\nengineering, my father gave me possession of what I inherited from my\nmother, and asked what course I intended to pursue. \u201cRemain at home,\u201d\nI replied,\u201d and work under the direction of M. C\u2014\u2014,\u201d an architect of\nthe department, and a friend of the family. My father gave his consent\nto this.\n\nLeft to myself, and master of my time and property, I made no delay in\ncommencing a life of dissipation and pleasure. My father was, above all\nthings, a man of forethought and calculation, and my conduct disgusted\nhim. We had several painful disputes, and at last he declared, to use\nhis own expressive language, he would give up the reins, and cease\nto reproach me, but I must not thenceforth expect of him the least\nadvice or even aid, if I needed it. He then centred all his affections\non my brother and sister. As for me, I had begun by being idle and\nextravagant: I soon became openly irreligious. My religious principles\nwere a restraint, and I determined to throw them aside. I thought\nthis would be easy. And I did prove myself uncommonly impious when\nthe preacher we had some months ago told us so many plain, wholesome\ntruths. I was not one of those guilty of disorderly conduct, whom all\nrespectable people must condemn; but\u2014the acknowledgment is due you\u2014I\napproved of it, contemptible and wicked as it was. My conscience was\nnow roused, and remorse filled my soul with secret anger.\n\nMy mother being dead, there was no longer any one at home to speak\nto me of religious things. My father is an honorable, upright man,\nand attentive to his business, but as regardless of another world as\nif there were none. My young brother is pious to a certain degree, I\nsuppose, but he is timid and reserved. Only my sister remains. Aline\nleft boarding-school about six months ago. She is nearly ten years\nyounger than I, and bears a striking resemblance to my mother. She has\nthe same kindness of heart and the same tone of piety, at once fervent\nand rational, which I always loved and admired in my mother. I had been\nseparated from my sister many years, and when I met her again, I was\nstruck, with this resemblance, and at once conceived so much affection\nand respect for her as to astonish myself.\n\nAs soon as Aline returned home, the appearance of everything changed:\nthe house became more attractive. I certainly do not wish to impute any\nblame to my father\u2014I love and respect him too much for that\u2014but you\nknow as well as I that a house is not what it should be that has no\nwoman to preside over it. An Arabian poet says the mistress of a house\nis its soul, and he is right. After my mother\u2019s death, the house became\ngloomy, but there was a marked change when Aline returned. It seemed as\nif my mother had come back after a long absence to diffuse once more\naround her cheerfulness, order, and piety.\n\nBut the superintendence of the household affairs, and her obligations\nto society, did not wholly fill up Aline\u2019s time. Like her whose\nliving image she was, she was eager to extend her knowledge. Before\nher return, my father had subscribed for that wretched journal which\nis the delight of the unbeliever, or those who wish to pass as such.\nAline sometimes read it, but she disliked it, as you may suppose. She\nimparted her impressions to me, but I did not conceal from her my\nsympathy with its irreligious views.\n\n\u201cWell, I do not agree with it in the least,\u201d said she; \u201cand, as I like\nto know what is going on, I wish I could subscribe for M. Barnier\u2019s\npaper. Mme. C\u2014\u2014 has lent it to me for some time. It is an able,\nthoughtful journal, and edited by a sincere Catholic. That is the kind\nof a newspaper that suits me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, order it to be sent you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would be ridiculous. A young girl cannot subscribe for a\nnewspaper.\u201d\n\n\u201cI see no other way of having it.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me, there is. If you were obliging, you would see the way at\nonce.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd subscribe for you!... I subscribe for a _journal de sacristie_?...\nThat would be going rather too far; I should be laughed at.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must have publicly compromised yourself, then, to fear making\npeople talk by subscribing for a respectable paper.\u201d ...\n\nThe cut was well aimed. I reddened, but made no reply, and went away.\nThat night I subscribed for your paper, and received my first number.\nOf course I opened it at once, out of perverse curiosity. I should have\nbeen overjoyed to find a single flaw in it.\n\nA short time after this, the incident at the cathedral occurred. As I\nhave already told you, I was not among those who made a disturbance\nat the church door, but I was with them in heart. P\u00e8re Laurent was\nrepulsive to me, as well as to most of those who displayed their\nanger in so reprehensible a manner. He was everywhere the topic of\nconversation. At home, my sister, who never lost one of his sermons,\nannoyed me with his praises. Above all, she irritated me by repeating\nhis very words\u2014words that seemed chosen expressly to disturb me and\nforce me to reflect.\n\nThe day after that atrocious manifestation, I eagerly opened your\njournal. I was sure you would speak of the outbreak of the previous\nday, and wished to see how far you would condemn it. The article\nsurpassed my expectations. You showed yourself more courageous than\never. Never had you written anything that so directly hit my case. You\nmade use of certain phrases that reminded me of my shameful course, my\nbase inclinations, and my secret remorse, and in so forcible a manner\nthat the very perusal made me tremble with anger. That night, at our\nclub\u2014that well-known circle of young men devoid of reason, and so\nmany men of riper years even more thoughtless\u2014we had a great deal to\nsay about the occurrence of the previous day, and your article of that\nmorning. There was a general indignation against the preacher, and that\nexcited by what you had written was still stronger.\n\nOne of the _habitu\u00e9s_ of the club\u2014one of those men who assume\nthe right of imposing their opinions on others about every\nsubject\u2014seriously declared he had made a very important discovery:\nthe clerical party wished to overrule the city, and assert its adverse\nauthority as in the fearful times of the middle ages; but, however well\ncontrived the plot might be, it had not escaped the sagacious eye of\nthe speaker. The Conference of S. Vincent de Paul, more flourishing\nthan ever; the new development given to the journal you edit; the\narrival of an eloquent preacher\u2014were they not all so many signs that\nought to arouse us to the imminence and extent of the danger?\n\nThe simplest and worst members of the club allowed themselves to be\ninfluenced by this absurd declamation. I was, I confess, of the number.\nOthers shrugged their shoulders. The orator perceived it.\n\n\u201cAh! you smile, messieurs; you think I exaggerate! In a year you will\nconfess I was right, but then it will be too late! Your wives will have\nbecome devotees, the very thought of whose bigotry is enough to make\nanybody shudder; your daughters will only aspire to the happiness\nof entering a convent; the theatres will be closed for want of\npatronage; and, if any one wishes an office, it will only be obtained\nby presenting a certificate of confession. _Allez! allez!_ when that\nblack-robed tribe undertakes any scheme, it knows how to bring it\nabout. Instead of shrugging your shoulders when I reveal what is going\non, you would do better to take proper precautions. It is high time.\u201d\n\nA young fop in the assembly, the head clerk of a notary, notorious for\nhis volubility, his shallowness, and his assurance, rose and took up\nthe thread of discourse in his turn:\n\n\u201cI agree with what M. Simon has just said. We must consider the means\nof utterly routing this dark race. The shortest course would be to\nattack their leader. I will take that on myself. Barnier shall hear\nfrom me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo rashness!\u201d was the exclamation on all sides. \u201cWe must beware of\nmaking a martyr of him!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat course shall we take, then?\u201d asked some of the party.\n\n\u201cIntimidate him,\u201d said a voice. \u201cWrite him a letter of warning of so\nserious a character as to make him desist.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is also a bad plan,\u201d objected M. Simon. \u201cAnonymous letters are\ntreated with contempt, or are laid before the public. In either case,\nthe effect would be unfavorable to us.\u201d\n\nThe young fop who had begun the subject now resumed:\n\n\u201cM. Simon, who has so clairvoyant an eye with respect to danger, ought\nhimself to suggest some way of bringing Barnier to reason.\u201d\n\nM. Simon assumed a solemn air: \u201cI only know of one way, but that is a\ngood one. We must bribe him, not to withdraw from the paper\u2014that would\nbe a false step, for another would take his place, and continue to\nannoy us\u2014but to induce him, in consideration of a certain sum, to wage\nhenceforth only an apparent war on us. That is the best thing to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d replied the young fop, \u201cit is hardly worth while to criticise\nothers, and then propose something not half so good. Barnier is not to\nbe bribed.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d asked M. Simon.\n\n\u201cBecause a man whose opinions are the result of conviction can never\nbe bought. He fights for his flag, and is not much concerned about\nanything else.\u201d\n\n\u201cConvictions!\u2014flag!\u2014disinterestedness, indeed!\u201d retorted M. Simon,\nwith a gesture of supreme contempt.\n\nIt was in vain to say that most of us had carefully observed you, and\nwere not mistaken as to your character. We were nearly all of the\nclerk\u2019s opinion. For once in his life, the fellow had a correct notion.\nWe then separated without coming to any decision, but each one promised\nto think of some means of bringing you to reason, as we expressed it.\nI dwelt on the subject the whole evening, and was still thinking of it\nthe next day when I took my place among the family at the dinner-table.\n\nAline was at that time greatly interested in the _soir\u00e9e_ to which you\nwere afterwards invited, and the preliminaries were discussed at table.\nTo my great astonishment, she proposed to place your name on the list\nof invitations. This proposition made me angry, and I flatly declared\nit absurd. I was sure my father would make a similar reply. I had no\nidea he would open the doors of his _salon_ to you, for I knew there\nwas no similarity of opinion between you. The result was precisely\ncontrary to my expectations. Was my father desirous of gratifying\nAline? Or did he wish to seize an opportunity of showing how little\nvalue he attached to my opinion? I know not. But he allowed me to\nfinish what I had to say, and then said, in a dry tone:\n\n\u201cAline, send M. Barnier an invitation. It is my wish.\u201d\n\nI was confounded. In my fury, I inwardly swore to be revenged. The\nmeans of intimidating you, which the members of the club had not\nbeen able to find without compromising themselves, I thought I had\ndiscovered myself the night before. I communicated my plan to two of my\nfriends whose names I will not give. They declared it excellent, and\npromised to second me.\n\nWhat took place you know, but I will give you some details impossible\nfor you to have ascertained. I did not attend the _soir\u00e9e_, but one of\nmy accomplices was there to keep me informed of your movements. When\nyou were ready to leave, he came to my room to notify me. It took only\na moment to disguise ourselves. We went out by a private door, and\ndogged your steps. Ah! my dear friend, what infamous behavior! What had\nyou done to me that I should thus dare violate in your person the laws\nof hospitality which even savages respect?\n\nAt this revelation, I turned pale. M. Louis Beauvais perceived it.\n\n\u201cIs not such an act unpardonable, madame?\u201d said he. \u201cAnd do you not\nlook upon me as worthy only of your contempt and hatred?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have forgiven those who committed this wrong, whoever they might\nbe,\u201d I replied. \u201cNow I know it was you, and see how fully you repent of\nit, I forgive you even more willingly.\u201d\n\nThank you, madame, said he; but let me assure you that, culpable as my\nintentions were, they were less so than they must have seemed to you.\nWe were desirous of intimidating M. Barnier, and making him believe\nhe exposed himself to constant serious danger by the boldness of the\ncourse he had taken. We did not\u2014I mistake\u2014I did not intend to show\nany physical violence, for that I considered base and criminal. I was\nindignant when I saw one of our number strike him. I have ever since\nregarded that young man with profound contempt. I had more than one fit\nof remorse that night. The next morning, Aline, after accosting me,\nsaid:\n\n\u201cYou know what happened to M. Barnier last night after leaving us. It\nis infamous! It must have been a plot. I am sure you know the guilty\nauthors! Who are they? They ought to be punished.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I know them?\u201d I exclaimed angrily.\n\n\u201cYou know them only too well,\u201d said Aline, regarding me with an air of\nseverity; ... \u201cbut you are not willing to betray your friends.... What\nfriends!\u201d\n\nI endeavored to appear unconcerned. She continued looking at me with a\nsteadiness that made me shiver.\n\n\u201cDo not add to my distress,\u201d said she. \u201cDo not lay aside the only\nvirtue you have left, my poor brother\u2014your customary frankness! I\nunderstand it all, and know what I ought to say to you, but words fail\nme. Ah! if our poor mother were still alive!\u201d ...\n\nAline went away without another word. As for me, I remained motionless\nand silent for some moments, by turns filled with shame, remorse, and\nanger.... It would seem as if so grave an occurrence should have led\nme to serious reflection. I felt inclined to it at first, but resisted\nthe inclination. I found excuses for myself, and soon thought no more\nof it.\n\nI continued, therefore, to live as I had for five years, one pleasure\nsucceeding another, and spending my property without reflecting what I\nshould do hereafter. But the day was at hand when I found myself in a\ncritical position in consequence of my prodigality.\n\nWhen my father, in order to avert cause for contention, put me in\npossession of my mother\u2019s property, I at once took my papers to a man\nin whom I placed entire confidence. I did this in order to throw off\nall care. He had been for a long time my father\u2019s cashier. He was and\nis honesty itself.\n\n\u201cF. Martin,\u201d said I, \u201chere is all I possess. It will be a care for me\nto keep these papers and collect my income. Do me the favor to take\ncharge of my property.\u201d\n\nF. Martin was confused and gratified at such a proof of confidence. But\nhis pleasure was somewhat modified when I added the following words:\n\n\u201cF. Martin, I attach one condition to this arrangement: you are not to\ntake advantage of it to sermonize me. I now tell you, with a frankness\nthat will preclude all surprise, I wish to amuse myself.... To what\ndegree, or how long, I cannot say, but such is my present intention,\nthat is certain.\u201d\n\n\u201cO M. Louis, if your mother could only hear you!\u201d\n\n\u201cF. Martin,\u201d said I, with a gesture, as if to take back my portfolio,\n\u201cif you are going to begin to preach to me, take care!... I shall\ngive my papers to some one who may rob me. Then, instead of merely\ncurtailing my property a little, I shall spend it all in two years, or\nfour at the furthest; or rather, we shall spend it between us.\u201d\n\n\u201cDreadful boy! I always said you had the faculty of making everybody\nyield to you. Well, I will do as you wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! that is right. One word more. When I have but twenty thousand\nfrancs left, you may warn me\u2014not before!\u201d\n\nThings went on thus till a few days ago. I spent my property with a\nrapidity that frightened me when I thought of it. My father perceived\nit. My extravagance excited his indignation, but, faithful to his\nresolution to avoid all contention, he forebore saying anything.\nNot quite a fortnight ago, I met with a sad disappointment. An old\naunt of mine died. I had calculated on being her heir, but she left\nall she had to my sister and other relatives, and gave me nothing.\nMy unwise conduct had for some time prejudiced her against me. This\ndisappointment made me quite thoughtful. I wrote F. Martin that I\nwished to know the exact state of my affairs. The next day Martin\narrived at the appointed hour. He was pale and agitated\u2014pitifully so.\n\n\u201cM. Louis,\u201d said he, \u201cyou anticipated me. I was going to request an\ninterview with you. You have now only twenty thousand francs!\u201d\n\nI made a strong effort to control myself, and replied, with a smiling\nair: \u201cWell done! that is rather fast work!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo fast that I can hardly believe you have come to this. But it is\nreally so!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere are the twenty thousand francs, Martin?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I have not got them, M. Louis! I have only five thousand left\nbesides what you took.\u201d\n\nAt this, my strength almost failed me. I at once realized I was\ncompletely ruined. Fifteen months before, I had withdrawn twenty\nthousand francs from Martin\u2019s hands under the pretext of investing\nthem in a particularly advantageous manner. A trip to Germany, play,\nand some pressing debts absorbed this sum without Martin\u2019s knowing it.\nI quietly dismissed him, saying I would see him again the next day.\nLeft alone, I balanced my accounts. Alas! my affairs were desperate!\nThe five thousand francs in Martin\u2019s possession were all I had left,\nand my debts amounted to four times that sum!\n\nAll day yesterday I remained stupefied, as it were, at so unexpected a\ndisclosure. My father had gone to Paris. I resolved to take refuge in\nthe country, and come to some decision. I went, scarcely knowing what\nI was about, angry with myself, with everybody else, and desperate.\nAll night I sought some way of escape from the terrible blow that\nhad befallen me. I walked to and fro. From anger I sank into the\nmost profound dejection. The very thought of applying myself to any\noccupation whatever appeared, above all, intolerable.\n\nWhen morning came, I mechanically went to walk beside the river that\nruns about a hundred yards from our house, and fell into a gloomy\nreverie. The sleepless nights, the rioting, the habits to which I had\nsuccessively given myself up for years, the painful anxiety of the\nprevious night, had excited and weakened my nervous system. I was, as\nit were, deprived of my reason.\n\nWhile I was thus lingering on the shore, it seemed as if a mysterious\nvoice invited me to bury myself in the current before me. A terrible\nstruggle took place between my reason, the instinct that restrained\nme, and the hallucination that kept drawing me nearer the bank. Reason\nfailed me. In a fit of despair, I cast myself into the stream. As soon\nas I felt the cold water, my reason, my faith, awoke as ardent as in\nthe days of my boyhood. A cry issued from the very depths of my soul:\n\u201cO Mary, save me!\u201d It would be impossible to tell you with what fervor,\nwhat terror, I uttered this short prayer\u2014impossible, also, to express\nthe immense joy that filled my heart when I realized I was saved.\nBut what confusion mingled with this joy\u2014what gratitude, too, what\nadmiration of the designs of God, when I saw it was you who had rescued\nme at the peril of your life!\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\nBROTHER AND SISTER.\n\nM. Louis Beauvais had finished his story.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d said Victor, in the cheering, confidential tone of one\nfriend who wishes to encourage another, \u201cwhat are you going to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is precisely the question that preoccupies me. In fact, I see\nno way of solving it. Were you to ask me what I am not going to do,\noh! then I should not be embarrassed for a reply. At all events, had\nI even the means, I should not wish to continue the life I have led.\nNor do I any longer desire to escape from the trying position I am in\nby having recourse to the cowardly, criminal means I took in a moment\nof madness. Suicide fills me with horror! One must behold death face\nto face, as I have to-day, to realize how easily a man can deceive\nhimself. I had really arrived at such a state of indifference and\ninsensibility that it seemed as if I had never had any religion; but\nthe terrible thought no sooner sprang up in my soul that I was about\nto appear before God, than I found myself as sincere a believer as on\nthe day of my first communion. My whole life passed in review before\nme, and I condemned myself without awaiting the divine sentence. When I\nrecall the inexpressible terror of that moment; when I remember if God\nhad not sent you to my assistance, and that, had it not been for your\nheroism, I should have been for ever lost, there springs up in my heart\na continually increasing gratitude to my heavenly Father, and to you\nwho were the agent of his mercy.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, my friend,\u201d replied Victor gravely, \u201cyou will allow me to make\none request.\u201d\n\n\u201cConsider whatever you would ask of me granted in advance.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, forget the past six or eight years of your life, and become\nagain what you were under your mother\u2019s influence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI pledge you my word to do so, and hope by the divine assistance never\nto break my promise\u2014a promise I make with inexpressible joy. But that\nis not all. What course do you advise me to take?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I may form an opinion of your sister from what you say, she must be\na person of intelligence, kind feelings, and decision. In your place, I\nwould go to her, make known my exact situation, and ask her advice.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; that is the best course to take. The idea pleases me. I will put\nit in execution this very evening. My father is to be absent a day or\ntwo longer. I shall have a good opportunity of talking freely with\nAline. I will go directly to her when I leave you. To-morrow morning I\nwill return and give you an account of our interview.\u201d\n\nLouis left us a few moments after. We commended him to God with all\nour hearts at our evening devotions. It was so impressive a spectacle\nto behold a soul break loose from past habits, and return to God\nhumiliated and conscious of his weakness\u2014repentant, and burning with\nardor to enter upon a new life.\n\nDuring the night, Victor was seriously ill. Fearing he was going to\ndie, I exclaimed, in a moment of anguish:\n\n\u201cOh! that unfortunate adventure! That wretched young man will be the\ndeath of you!\u201d\n\n\u201cTake that back, dear,\u201d said Victor; \u201cit pains me. Instead of deploring\nthis occurrence, and calling it unfortunate, you should thank God.\nHe has thus granted my dearest wish. From the time I found my days\nnumbered, I prayed God to grant me every possible opportunity of\nshowing how earnestly I wished to serve him during the short time\nleft me on earth. He has now granted my desire. If my going into the\nwater to-day leads to my death, I shall have the infinite joy of being\nin a certain sense a martyr, for I fully realized the danger. But an\ninterior voice whispered: \u2018There is a soul to save,\u2019 and I plunged into\nthe river.... Others would have done the same, but God does not give\nevery one such an opportunity. I thank him for having granted it to me.\u201d\n\nBy degrees Victor\u2019s alarming symptoms wore off. When he awoke the next\nmorning, he was much better than I had dared hope. He recalled with\na lively joy the events of the previous day, and expressed an eager\ndesire to know what Louis and his sister had decided upon.\n\nWe were not kept in suspense long. Louis arrived about nine o\u2019clock.\nSeeing his face was calm and happy, my poor husband manifested a\nlivelier satisfaction than I had ever known him to express.\n\n\u201cSit down there,\u201d said he, pointing to an arm-chair beside his bed,\n\u201cand give us the details of all you have done.\u201d\n\nAs we agreed upon last evening, replied Louis, I went directly home\nafter leaving you, and inquired if my sister was in. They told me she\nwas. I went to her room. It was vacant. A servant informed me that\nshe had given up her old chamber some weeks before, and now occupied\nmy mother\u2019s. I found Aline sitting in the middle of the room beside\na stand, in the same arm-chair my mother made use of to the last. I\ncannot express the emotion that overpowered me when I entered. The\naspect of the room, the sight of the well-known furniture, Aline\u2019s\ngrave air, and her resemblance to my mother, all carried me back ten\nyears. It seemed as if I were once more in the presence of her whom\nI loved so much, but whose counsels I had followed so poorly. My\nagitation increased when Aline sprang towards me, clasped me in her\narms, and covered my face with her tears.\n\n\u201cWicked, wicked boy, she cried; you wished to put an end to your life!\nHow sinful in you! and what sorrow for us! Oh! conceal nothing from\nme.... You are very unhappy, then?... You have no confidence in me?...\nCome, tell me all. Leave me no longer in a state of uncertainty. And,\nfirst, have you renounced your horrible project?\u201d\n\nHer voice betrayed such profound emotion, her eyes such tender\naffection and deep anxiety, that I was affected to tears. I began by\nbegging pardon for all the anxiety I had caused her. I pledged my word\nto enter upon a new life. When we were both somewhat calmer, I told her\nall I had related to you. At the end of the account, she looked at me\nas a mother would at her son, and said:\n\n\u201cLouis, the hand of God has visibly interposed in your behalf.\nEverything shows you would have been drowned. And what a horrible\nend!\u2014in that river where so few people go, especially the spot you\nchose, had not Providence, at the very moment you plunged into the\nwater, sent a man, a noble-hearted man, to save you at the peril of\nhis life. That is not all. When you were able to thank your deliverer,\nyou found it was\u2014the very man who had already been brought to death\u2019s\ndoor through your fault. If I am not deceived, this is a wonderful\ninterposition of Providence. You have been a great sinner, my poor\nboy, and your conversion had to be effected by a great sacrifice. This\nsacrifice has been offered by M. Barnier in risking his life in order\nto restore you to existence, which you wished to deprive yourself of. I\nbelieve\u2014pardon my great frankness\u2014God wished, I believe, to inspire\nyou with thorough repentance by showing you your victim under the form\nof your deliverer. Oh! if this repentance is not lasting, I shall\ntremble at the thought of the chastisement that the justice of God,\nweary of pardoning you, has in reserve. But, no!\u2014there is no fear of\nthat. And now, what are you going to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cPut an end to my idle life.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. It was idleness especially that caused your ruin. But what\noccupation will suit you? No imprudent heroism! You must do something\nthat will be congenial.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am an engineer. It is time to remember it. I am going to Paris.\nEither there or elsewhere I can easily find a place in some\nmanufactory.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well. Father is to return to-morrow evening. What has occurred\ncannot be concealed from him. I am even of the opinion it would be best\nto tell him the whole truth. Only ... you will allow me to speak with\nthe frankness of a sister who loves you, will you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes. Speak to me as our mother would.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, I must acknowledge father is extremely offended with\nyou. He is kind, very kind, as you know, but he cannot endure want of\ncalculation, especially in money matters, and your manner of conducting\nhas excited his indignation. I fear, therefore, he will at first be\ngreatly irritated at learning what has taken place. Public rumor will\nat once inform him of it, so that, when he sees you for the first\ntime, you will not be able to induce him to listen to you. With your\nconsent, I will talk with him first. To prevent a premature explanation\nwith him, I propose you should go and pass two or three days with Aunt\nMary. She is now at her country-seat in M\u2014\u2014. It is not far off. I can\neasily send you word when it is time for you to return.\u201d\n\nI need not say with what gratitude I accepted this proposal, which\nrevealed the kindness of a sister, the delicacy of a woman, and the\nprudence of a mother.\n\nAline continued: \u201cI have two more requests to make. If you were a\ndifferent person, I might hesitate. But you were once pious. You are\nbetter instructed in our religion than most of the poor young men\nof our day. In a word, you have never lost your faith. Do not delay\nhaving recourse to the remedy. Go to confession as soon as possible.\nConfession develops repentance, puts a seal on our good resolutions,\nand confers a special grace to keep them. I speak as I think. A\nrepentance that remains purely human cannot be lasting.\u201d\n\nI promised to go to confession to Father\u2014\u2014, and shall keep my promise.\n\n\u201cOne favor more,\u201d resumed Aline. \u201cIt is a somewhat delicate matter,\nbut let us talk with the same freedom and simplicity that we did in\nour childhood. That is the shortest way to come to an understanding.\nYou say you are fifteen thousand francs in debt. Knowing my father\u2019s\ndisposition as I do, I am sure this will cause trouble if he knows it.\nHe is a man who would forgive your spending a hundred thousand francs,\nbut a debt of five hundred would make him extremely angry. This is\nstrange, but it is so. And you may be sure as soon as your creditors\nhear of your ruin, they will come upon you. We must, therefore, hasten\nto forestall them. We must settle with them where they are. Will you\npermit me to render you a little service?... Sit down here, and draw\nup, as papa would say, a schedule of your debts. I will give it to our\nhead clerk to-morrow, bind him to secrecy, and before noon you will be\nfree from debt.\u201d\n\nI was profoundly moved by so much generosity, and so profuse in my\nthanks as to greatly touch Aline herself. But she concealed her emotion\nunder a lively, playful manner. I had to make out a list at once. I did\nso, and gave it to Aline. She took it with a smile, and folded it up\nwithout looking at it. There were two small sheets, one of which was\nnearly blank.\n\n\u201cWhy two papers?\u201d she asked mechanically.\n\n\u201cOne contains the list\u2014the sad list; the other is a note which\u201d....\n\n\u201cAh! that is too much! Louis, my poor Louis, you are only half\nconverted! You do not really love me! You are unwilling to receive\nanything from me. You would deprive me of the pleasure of giving this\nto you. Ah! that is wrong. Oh! the contemptible _r\u00f4le_ you wish me to\nplay! I lend it to you! Fie, fie!\u201d ...\n\nSo saying, Aline tore up the unfortunate note.\n\nThe night was far advanced before we separated. I had already bidden\nmy sister good-night. She retained my hand in hers, and, looking at me\nwith a caressing air, said:\n\n\u201cLouis, one favor more! Let us say our night-prayers together at the\nfoot of that bed where our dear mother made us say them so often. We\nwill pray for her. She watches over us. What has happened to you is a\nproof of it.\u201d\n\nWe sank on our knees beside each other. Aline said the prayers aloud.\nI repeated them with my lips and in my heart, and with so much joy and\nemotion that I melted into tears.\n\nThis morning I took leave of Aline. She means to come here herself,\nin order to express her gratitude. My mother could not feel more. Oh!\nhow she loves you! As for me, I am going away ruined, but happier than\nif my fortune were increased tenfold. Pray for me. And you, my dear\nfriend, take care of yourself. I trembled yesterday at the thought of\nthe danger to which you had exposed yourself in order to save my life.\nI trembled as I came here, fearing your heroic imprudence might have\nled to fatal results! Thank God! there is nothing serious. But redouble\nyour precautions; I shall need you for a long while. You will be my\nbest guide in the new way upon which I have now entered.\n\nLouis then departed, leaving us exceedingly happy at the favorable turn\nin his affairs.\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\nALINE\u2019S HOPES.\n\nThe second day after Louis\u2019 departure, we had in the afternoon an\nagreeable surprise: Aline called to see us. All that Louis had told us\nabout her prepossessed us in her favor. The sight of her only increased\nour disposition to love her.\n\nAline was at the time I am speaking of\u2014and still is\u2014a fine-looking\nwoman, tall, well-formed, and with a pleasing, intelligent face. Her\nmanner is a little cold at first, but her reserve is not unpleasing,\nfor it indicates a thoughtful mind. When she came into the room, my\nhusband and I were reading. She went directly to Victor, and with\nemotion, but without any embarrassment, said:\n\n\u201cMonsieur, I am late in expressing my gratitude. Pardon this delay.\nIt has not been without good reasons. I was expecting my father every\nmoment, and was greatly preoccupied with all I had to communicate, as\nwell as about the reply he would make.\u201d ...\n\n\u201cMademoiselle,\u201d replied Victor gently, \u201cthere is no need of excusing\nyourself. I am happy, very happy, to see you, but had no right to\nexpect your visit.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo right, monsieur?... What! did you not save my brother\u2019s life?...\nAnd was it not you the unhappy fellow had before\u201d ...\n\n\u201cO mademoiselle! do me the favor never to mention that circumstance!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are generous, monsieur! But that is no reason why we should show\nourselves ungrateful\u2014rather the contrary. Louis and I can never forget\nthat, before you saved his life, he had injured you to such a degree\nthat he can never be sufficiently repentant. As to my father, I have\nnot dared inform him of these details too painful to be acknowledged.\nMy father, alas! is not religious. Louis\u2019 fault would seem so enormous\nto him that he would never forgive him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is, however, of but little account. If harm has resulted from it,\nLouis was only the involuntary cause. Let us adore the divine decrees,\nand forgive our poor friend. He had not, after all, any very criminal\nintentions.\u201d\n\nAline looked at Victor with a sadness she could not wholly conceal. His\nwasted features, his eyes hollowed by suffering, his air of languor,\nnothing escaped her observation.\n\n\u201cI wish I could think so,\u201d murmured she, as if speaking to herself.\n\u201cAh! poor Louis, what remorse he must feel!\u201d\n\nThis allusion to Victor\u2019s sad condition brought tears to my eyes.\nVictor suspected my emotion, and at once changed the subject.\n\n\u201cM. Louis has become my friend,\u201d said he to Aline; \u201ctherefore pardon my\ncuriosity, mademoiselle, if it is indiscreet. May we hope to see him\nagain soon? Is M. Beauvais greatly offended with him?\u201d\n\nEverything is arranged for the best, though not without difficulty.\nMy father was not originally wealthy. It has only been by dint of\norder, economy, and industry, that he has attained the position\nhe now occupies. When he learned that Louis had lost, or rather\nsquandered, his maternal inheritance, his anger was fearful. But by\ndegrees I made him comprehend that Louis, though ruined, had shown new\nresolution\u2014that he was willing to work; he wished to become useful,\nand regain all he had lost. My father then grew calm. And yet all my\nfears were not allayed. I had to tell him of Louis\u2019 sad attempt at\nsuicide, of which he was still ignorant, but which he could not fail to\nlearn. I told him of it, dwelling on your devotedness, which struck him\nmost of all.\n\n\u201cHas Louis shown himself duly grateful to M. Barnier for the service?\u201d\nhe asked. I replied that he had.\n\n\u201cSo much the better. Such a sentiment does him honor. This circumstance\nmay lead to a friendship between them which cannot be too intimate, in\nmy opinion. And you say our prodigal son is willing to work? What is he\ngoing to do?\u201d\n\n\u201cAnything you wish, father.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is easily said, but a poor reply. Nothing is well done that we\ndo not like to do. Has he manifested an inclination for any special\noccupation?\u201d\n\n\u201cLouis is a civil engineer. He would like to find a place somewhere in\nthat capacity.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! he at length remembers he is a civil engineer!... He wishes to\nturn his acquirements to some account?... It is a wonder! He need not\nexile himself for that. You know Mr. Smithson?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs not he the cold, ceremonious gentleman who came to see us Sunday?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe very one. Mr. Smithson is a wealthy Englishman who has been in\nFrance these twenty years. He came on account of his health. He settled\nat first in Paris, where he married a charming woman\u2014a Catholic of\nno property, but of a good family. This excellent Mr. Smithson was\nso foolish as to speculate too much at the Bourse some years since,\nand his losses were considerable. To withdraw himself from such a\ntemptation, he established his residence at St. M\u2014\u2014 six months ago.\nThe situation pleased him, and there was another inducement: a large\npaper manufactory there was offered for sale. He bought it, hoping\nnot only to find occupation, and feed his incessant activity, but to\nrepair the losses of the last few years. The mill is well situated\nand well patronized. Everything would prove advantageous if Mr.\nSmithson were better versed in the knowledge of machinery. But though\nan Englishman, he has not been through the studies necessary to enable\nhim to superintend his industrial project as he ought. Besides this, he\nis subject to frequent attacks of the gout. He has therefore besought\nme to find him a man capable of superintending the mill under his\ndirection, and even of taking the whole charge if necessary.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo much for Louis\u2019 affairs. What do you think of the arrangement? I\napproved of it without any restriction. And you, monsieur?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think, mademoiselle,\u201d replied Victor, \u201cthat Providence continues to\ntreat Louis with parental kindness.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes; truly parental! He will now remain under your influence. Even\nin the house he is to enter, everything will encourage him, I hope, to\npersist in his good resolutions. Mme. Smithson is said to be a woman of\nlovely character. She has a daughter who must be a prodigy, unless I\nhave been misinformed. My father, who is very practical, and but little\ngiven to exaggeration, is enthusiastic in her praise.\u201d\n\nVictor knowingly smiled at this last communication.\n\n\u201cYou have divined my thoughts,\u201d said Aline, blushing a little. \u201cWell,\nyes: this thought at once occurred to my mind. I said to myself, if\nLouis can find at Mr. Smithson\u2019s not only an occupation that will\nenable him to forget the past, but an affection that will continue to\nsustain him in a better course, I shall consider him the most fortunate\nof men. But it is too soon to speak of that. This dear brother must\nfirst return home, and be accepted by Mr. Smithson, to whom my father\nwrote to-day.\u201d\n\nThe next day both these things took place. Louis returned. Mr. Smithson\nat once accepted him as his assistant. After calling on us with his\nfather, he left for St. M\u2014\u2014.\n\nWhile M. Beauvais was speaking to me, Louis said to Victor, in a low\ntone:\n\n\u201cEverything is done. The bonds of iniquity are completely broken. I\nhave been to confession and to Holy Communion, and a new life has\nbegun!\u201d\n\nThe air of satisfaction with which he uttered these words, the calmness\nand unaffected gravity he manifested, all announced he had indeed\nbecome a new man.\n\n\u201cIn a year he will be an eminent Christian!\u201d said Victor, as Louis\ndisappeared.\n\nHe was not mistaken.\n\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\nCONCILIAR DECREES ON THE HOLY SCRIPTURES.\n\nFROM THE ETUDES RELIGIEUSES.\n\nTHE church has been commissioned to teach all mankind. It is by\npreaching she fulfils this great work. But to aid her in this divine\nmission, her Founder has furnished her with books written under the\ninspiration of the Holy Ghost, which contain the very word of God\ngraven in ineffaceable characters. So precious a treasure has always\nbeen preserved by the church with the respect it merits. Her doctors\nhave carefully weighed every word of these holy books; they have\ntaken pleasure in developing the different significations; and their\ncommentaries form the finest monuments of Christian literature. There,\nas in a well-furnished arsenal, they have sought spiritual arms in\ntheir warfare against the enemies of the faith, and they have defended\nthe Bible with unequalled zeal against all attacks and alterations\nby heretics. The Scriptures have been the object of the fury of\npersecutors, and more than one hero has shed his blood to defend them\nfrom the insults of the unbeliever, and thereby had his name inscribed\non the glorious roll of the martyrology.\n\nProtestantism, at its very birth, was desirous of profiting by this\nrespect of the Christian world. It affected an ardent zeal for the\nsacred books, and, carrying its veneration beyond reasonable limits,\nmaintained that the Bible is the only rule of faith. But its very\nexaggerations, by a law of Providence, have led it to the opposite\nextreme. Three centuries have hardly elapsed, and the followers of\nthose who acknowledged no other rule of faith than the Bible, gradually\nled to the verge of rationalism, accord a merely human authority to the\nsacred volume.\n\nEven from the very dawn of the Reformation, the pernicious influence\nof free examination gave a deadly blow to the canon of Scripture.\nLuther was the foremost. Everything in Holy Writ that conflicted with\nhis doctrines of wholly imputative justification, of free-will, and\nthe sacraments was boldly consigned among the apocryphal books. The\ncanon of Scripture, thus at the option of individuals, no longer had\nany stability. Individual caprice led to the admission or rejection\nof books that had been regarded as inspired from all antiquity. The\nauthenticity of the Scriptures was not only questioned, but also\ntheir legitimate meaning. Luther denied the doctrinal authority of\nthe church, and was obliged to make the Bible the ground of faith;\nthat is, the Bible interpreted according to the particular notions\nof each believer. In reality, Luther wished to subject his followers\nto his own interpretation. Like rebels of every age, he arrogated an\nauthority he refused to legitimate power. But logic has its inevitable\nlaws. The Lutheran theory claimed absolute independence. It made all\nChristians, even the most ignorant, even those the farthest from\nthe knowledge of the truth, judges of the real signification of the\nScriptures. It promised each believer the interior illumination of\nthe Holy Spirit in ascertaining the true meaning of the sacred text\nbeneath all its obscurities. But, as the divine Spirit is not pledged\nto fulfil the promises of the Reformer, each Protestant interprets the\nBible according to his own views, and the various sects sprung from\nthe Reform have, in the name of the Scriptures, maintained the most\ncontradictory opinions.\n\nBesides the change in the canon, and the false interpretation of the\nholy books, there was another abuse\u2014that of unfaithful translations.\nProtestantism rejected the authority of the church, therefore it would\nnot receive her version of the Scriptures. It had no regard for the\nVulgate. The innovators, with Luther at their head, undertook new\ntranslations. In their boldness, they did not shrink from attempting\nto surpass the work of S. Jerome. They were not well versed in\nthe knowledge of the original idioms; they had access to but few\nmanuscripts; the copies they had were not the choicest; and yet they\nimagined they could excel the great doctor who spent so large a part\nof his life in Palestine, absorbed in the profound study of the\nancient languages; who took pains to collate the best manuscripts,\nand was aided by the ancient rabbis the most versed in the knowledge\nof Hebrew antiquities and in the languages of the East. Every day a\nnew translation appeared, which, under the pretext of adapting God\u2019s\nown Word to the common mind, diffused heretical novelties by means of\ninsidious falsifications.\n\nThe Reform was equally unscrupulous as to the correctness of the\ntext. The Bible was left to the arbitrariness of its editors and the\ncarelessness of printers. Through unscrupulousness or negligence,\nmany incorrect expressions crept into the versions sold to the\npublic. The new heresy was not wholly responsible for the numerous\nfaults in the various editions of the Bible. The sacred book had for\nages been subjected to all the hazards of individual transcription.\nThe distractions of the copyist had, in many instances, caused the\nsubstitution of one word for another, the omission of a part of a\nverse, or the transferring of the marginal gloss to the text. Hence so\nmany copies alike in the main, but full of discrepancies.\n\nII\n\nSuch was the state of the Bible question at the opening of the Council\nof Trent. Its importance could not escape the bishops who composed\nthat assembly, and the theologians who assisted them with their\nacquirements, consequently it was the first proposed for consideration.\nOn the 8th of February, 1546, the fathers being assembled in general\ncongregation, Cardinal del Monte, the chief legate of the Holy See,\nproposed the council should first consider the subject of the Holy\nScriptures, and make a recension of the canon, in order to determine\nthe arms to be used in the struggle against heresy, and also to thereby\nshow Catholics whereon their faith was grounded, many of whom lived\nin deplorable ignorance on this point, seeing the same book accepted\nby some as dictated by the Holy Spirit, and rejected by others as\nspurious.[59] The president of the council afterwards determined the\nprincipal points to be submitted to the consideration of the Fathers.\n\nBut this is not the place to review the account of this interesting\ndiscussion. We will only state the results.\n\nIn the fourth session, held April 8, 1546, the council promulgated its\ncelebrated decree respecting the Holy Scriptures, which comprehended\ntwo very distinct parts: the first, dogmatic; the second, disciplinary.\n\nThe dogmatic part established the authority of the sacred books in\nmatters of faith and morals, their divine origin, the canon, the\nauthenticity of the Vulgate, and the rules for interpreting the\ninspired text.\n\nThe disciplinary prescriptions had reference to the use of the\nVulgate in the lessons, sermons, controversies, and commentaries; the\nobligation of interpreting the Scriptures according to the unanimous\nteachings of the Fathers; the respect to be paid to the divine Word,\nand, consequently, the crime of those who apply it to profane, light,\nor superstitious uses. The council likewise enacted severe laws against\npublishers who issue the holy books, or commentaries on them, without\na written authorization of the ordinary, and against the vendors or\nholders of prohibited editions; finally, it ordained that the Holy\nScriptures, especially the Vulgate, be henceforth printed with all\npossible correctness.\n\nTo these prescriptions of the fourth session we will add the first\nchapter of the decree of reform, continued in the fifth session,\nordering the institution of a course of Holy Scripture in certain\nchurches, in order that the Christian community might not be ignorant\nof the salutary truths contained in the sacred volume. Such was the\nreply to Protestant calumnies which accused the church of withholding\nthe sacred treasure of God\u2019s Word from the faithful.\n\nSuch, briefly, were the labors of the Council of Trent with regard\nto the Holy Scriptures. The importance of the decree of the fourth\nsession must not be estimated according to the brief place it occupies\nin the canons, for, brief as it is, it has had an incalculable\ninfluence on sacred science. This decree, in fact, gave rise to those\nadmirable works of criticism that have defended the authentic canon\nagainst the attacks of heresy, and reduced the pretended discoveries\nof Protestantism respecting the true canon of holy books to their\nproper value; thence the number of excellent commentaries that for\nthree centuries have been enriching Catholic theology; and thence so\nmany apologetic works which have defended the truth of the Biblical\nnarrative against the false pretensions of rationalistic history.\nTo this same decree we owe the many learned researches concerning\nthe original text, the primitive versions regarded as genuine in the\nancient churches, and, above all, the incomparable edition of the\nVulgate\u2014the result of thirty years\u2019 labor by those most versed in the\nstudy of sacred literature.\n\nIt would seem as if there were no necessity of reconsidering a question\nso fully weighed by the Council of Trent. And yet the Fathers of the\nVatican also deemed it proper to take up the subject of the Holy\nScriptures, in order to reaffirm what had been defined by the Council\nof Trent, to give greater prominence to points that the council had\nleft obscure, and to clear up some difficulties of interpretation that\nhad arisen within three centuries even among Catholic schools. The\ndogmatic part of the decree of Trent alone was renewed and completed\nby the Fathers of the Vatican. The exclusively doctrinal character of\nthe decree _Dei Filius_ admitted no reconsideration of the disciplinary\nlaws relating to the publishing of the holy books, or their\ncommentaries, and the abuses that might be made of the sacred text.\nBesides, the penalties decreed by the Council of Trent were such as in\nour day could not be put in execution, as they consisted not only of\nspiritual censures, but pecuniary fines. The ecclesiastical authority,\ndeprived of its ancient tribunals, and living in the midst of a society\nwhose leading maxim is liberty of the press and liberty of conscience,\ncould not revive the old penalties. The Fathers of the Vatican also\nomitted everything respecting the authenticity of the Vulgate. Many of\nthem, however, requested the council to ratify the decree of the fourth\nsession of Trent on this point, but the greater part of the bishops did\nnot deem it advisable to accede to the request. What, indeed, could\nthey add to that which had been so wisely defined by the Fathers of\nTrent? Besides, is not the Vulgate received without protest by the\nwhole Catholic world as the only version recognized by the church as\nauthentic? As to the rationalists, it is not the translation of the\nsacred books they attack, but the books themselves, their canonicity\nand supernatural origin.\n\nLaying aside, therefore, all these questions so important in\nthemselves, but which are not now points of controversy, the Council of\nthe Vatican only dwelt on the authority of the Scriptures, their divine\norigin, the canon, and the rule of interpretation. On all these points\nit had to oppose modern rationalism, and banish false and dangerous\ntheories from Catholic schools of theology.\n\n\nIII.\n\nFirst, in opposition to rationalism, the council teaches that divine\nrevelation is comprised in the Scriptures and tradition. This was\ndeclared in the same terms by the Council of Trent, but it was by no\nmeans useless in these times to renew so fundamental a definition.\nModern science rejects revelation: to be consistent, it ought also\nto reject its monuments. It regards the Holy Scriptures as merely of\nhuman authority. It does not, it is true, imitate the cynicism of the\nphilosophers of the XVIIIth century: it does not make our holy books\nthe butt of their foolish railleries. On the contrary, it affects\na profound respect for them, though it refuses to accept them as\nthe organ of divine communications. It regards them as it would the\ndiscourses of Socrates\u2014as books full of admirable wisdom which every\nphilosopher ought to know and study, but which do not owe their origin\nto inspiration, properly so-called, or to revelation.\n\nDiscussion as to such an error was impossible. The council had merely\nto pass its judgment, and repeat what the church had taught its members\nfor eighteen centuries, as a fresh proof that the Christian faith does\nnot falter in encountering the many new forms of incredulity. Having\naffirmed the truth of revelation, it was necessary to point out what\nit was contained in, that the Christian might know where to study the\nscience of salvation. It says: \u201cThis supernatural revelation, according\nto the belief of the universal church, as declared by the holy Council\nof Trent, is contained in the written books and in the unwritten\ntraditions that have come down to us.\u201d\n\nBut what books contain this revelation? Pursuing the subject, the\ncouncil defined anew the canon of Scripture, which the state of the\ntimes made, if not necessary, at least very opportune. Protestant\ncritics have not ceased since the Reformation to attack the canon\nsanctioned by the authority of the church. Rationalism has come to the\nsupport of Protestant criticism, and sometimes flatters itself it has,\nby its historical discoveries, blotted out the entire list of the\nholy books. The unadulterated traditions preserved by the church have\nno scientific value in the eyes of rationalism, which only admits the\ncanonicity of those books that can trace the proofs of their origin\nback to the very time of the apostles. Tertullian took a wrong stand in\nasserting that the dogmas of faith should have prescriptive proof. In\nvain the Catholic points out the wholly exceptional circumstances that\nsurround the Scriptural canon\u2014the impossibility from the very first\nof admitting books of doubtful origin as coming from the apostles,\nor that these books could have been changed in any respect under the\njealous guardianship of a church and hierarchy spread over the face of\nthe earth, and charged with the conservation of the sacred deposit.\nThe incredulous critic refuses to receive proofs which the most common\nmind perceives the full value of as well as the good sense. What does\nhe substitute for them? Theories founded on mere conjecture, and\nconstantly changing, but which are welcomed as the final conclusions\nof science. Have we not seen the school of T\u00fcbingen found on some\nobscure words of Papias a whole system tending to establish the more\nrecent composition of the Gospels? These new doctors regard the books\nof divine truth as some of those legends that are embellished as they\npass from mouth to mouth till they are collected in a definite form by\nsome unknown writer. And has not this strange theory met with ardent\npanegyrists in France, as if it were the definite solution of the great\ncontroversy on the origin of the Gospels?[60]\n\nWhoever attentively examines these strange theories will soon perceive\ntheir weak point. But where are the men in the present generation who\nread with sufficient care to see the hollowness of such solutions?\nTheir authors have seats in our academies; they occupy the most\nimportant professorships; there is not an honorary distinction that\ndoes not add its recommendation to their apparent knowledge. Skilled in\npraising one another, the journals and reviews regarded as authorities,\neven by certain Catholics, extol their labors. One would think they had\na monopoly of science. Has not all this been a source of real danger to\nthe faith of Christians?\n\nThe church had to counteract the influence of a criticism as bold as\nit was easy, by her immutable decrees. It must once more affirm the\nancient canon of Scripture. This catalogue of the sacred books had\nbeen solemnly approved at the end of the IVth century, in a celebrated\ndecree of the Councils of Hippo and Carthage, in which the Fathers\ndeclared they received this canon from their ancestors in the faith. A\nlittle later, Pope S. Innocent I. sent this same canon of Scripture to\nS. Exuperius, the illustrious Bishop of Toulouse. S. Gelasius, in 494,\nincluded it in his synodical decree. Finally, the Council of Florence,\nin its decree relating to the Jacobites, and, at a later period, the\nCouncil of Trent, sanctioned it by their supreme authority. Several\nof the Fathers of Trent proposed to subject it to a re-examination;\nnot in order to retrench anything, but to satisfy the heretical, and\nconvince them by such a discussion that the Church of Rome had not\nlightly decided on the list of the inspired books. But a large majority\nof the Fathers thought, and with reason, that such a discussion\nwas appropriate to schools of Catholic theology, but to a council\nit belonged to pronounce authoritatively. The canon of Scripture,\nbeing a dogma of faith, formally defined by popes and councils, and\nconsequently unchangeable, could only be proclaimed anew and without\ndiscussion.[61] The Council of the Vatican came to a like decision,\nand, in declaring its acceptance of the canon of the Council of Trent,\nwith each of its books, in all the parts, it strengthened the faith of\nChristians against the shameful pretensions of false science.\n\nThis course has shocked the Protestant historian of the council. M.\nde Pressens\u00e9 is indignant at so summary a procedure. \u201cThe council,\u201d\nhe says, \u201chas fallen into a profound and dangerous error on two\nimportant points. In the first place, it proclaims the indisputable\ncanonicity of all the books of the Vulgate, including the Apocrypha[62]\nof the Old Testament, thus showing it regards the immense labors of\nthe critics of the XIXth century as of no account, and acknowledging\nthat it is not permitted, for example, to question the origin of the\nGospel of Matthew, or the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews, by\nreferring to such and such an expression of a Father of the IId and\nIIId centuries.[63]The Catholic Church is thus prevented anew from\ntaking any part in the great work of Christian science of our day,\nwhich consists in establishing a safeguard to the true canon of Holy\nScripture by free and conscientious research. What confidence can we\nhave in Catholic theology, on those points disputed by rationalism,\nlike the authenticity of the fourth Gospel? Examination, even, is\nforbidden. Everything must be accepted in a lump. How much valuable\nco-operation is thus lost or made fruitless through the council!\u201d[64]\n\nThe church, then, at the bidding of this Protestant theologian, should\nrenounce her right to decide on the true Scriptures, and give up the\ncanon to the researches of rationalistic science, and this in order\nto provide a safeguard for this same canon. An amusing idea, to give\nup the catalogue of holy books to the caprice of incredulous critics\nin order to preserve it intact! And besides, what new documents can\nrationalistic science bring to light not perfectly known and considered\nby the Catholic theologians of the last three centuries? Catholic\ndoctors have seen and weighed these difficulties as fully, to say\nthe least, as Protestant critics, but they have not thought a few\nobscurities ought, scientifically, to outweigh immemorial prescription,\nor, dogmatically, the perpetual usage of the church and the decrees of\ncouncils.\n\nRationalism, on the contrary, appeals to obscure passages, or hasty\nconclusions sometimes to be met with in the Fathers, in order to\nexclude books from the Scriptural canon that have been venerated from\ntime immemorial as inspired. On which side is the real scientific\nmethod? If historical records merit any confidence in spite of\ndifficulties of detail, no person of sincerity would hesitate to give\nthe preference to the theological rather than the rationalistic method.\n\nAs to the reproach made against the church for confining criticism\nwithin such narrow limits as to stifle it, nothing is more contrary\nto experience. The Council of Trent likewise decided on the canon of\nScripture, and yet what extensive labors, how many learned works,\nhave been published within three centuries in reply to the attacks of\nProtestantism, and in order to establish the authenticity of the books\nrejected by the Reformer! No, indeed; the church, in defining the\ncanon of Scripture, does not discourage the researches of the learned\nrespecting the Bible. The love of sacred literature, in the first\nplace, and also the necessity of defending Catholic belief against the\nconstantly renewed attacks of heterodox criticism, will keep Catholic\napologists constantly at work. The church, in maintaining its canon,\ndirects their labors, but without putting any restraint on their\nabilities.\n\n\nIV.\n\nBesides reaffirming the ancient decrees relating to the canon of\nScripture, the Council of the Vatican has completed and explained more\nclearly what faith requires us to believe respecting the origin of the\nholy books. This point had not been fully decided. The wants of the\ntimes had not before required it. But the attacks of rationalism, and\nthe misinterpretations of semi-rationalism, required a more definite\ndecision in order to put an end to dangerous teachings even in Catholic\nschools.\n\nChristians have from the beginning believed God to be the author of\nthe Holy Scriptures. The Fathers of the fourth Council of Carthage, in\nthe profession of faith required of the new bishops, expressly made\nmention of this truth. The same profession of faith is made in our day\nby those who are promoted to the episcopate. Pope S. Leo IX., in the\nprofession of faith to which he required Peter of Antioch to subscribe,\ndeclared God to be the author of the Old and New Testaments, including\nthe law, the prophets, and the apostolic books. The Council of Florence\ninserted this same article in the decree about the Jacobites: The most\nholy Roman Church \u201cconfesses that it is one and the same God who is the\nauthor of the Old and the New Testament; that is to say, the law, the\nprophets, and the Gospel; the saints of both Testaments having spoken\nunder the inspiration of the same Holy Spirit.\u201d Finally, the Council\nof Trent, renewing the decree of Florence, accepted all the canonical\nbooks of the two Testaments, God being the author of them both: _Cum\nutriusque unus Deus sit auctor_. Besides, all these decrees were only\nan expansion of the words of the Nicene Creed: _Qui locutus est per\nprophetas_.\n\nThe Catholic dogma is explicit: \u201cGod is the author of the books\nof the Old and the New Testament.\u201d The definitions of the ancient\ncouncils had for their direct object the condemnation of the errors\nof the Manichees, who made a distinction between the two Testaments,\nattributing the first to the evil principle, the second to the true\nGod. But, secondarily, these definitions, referring to the actual\norigin of the Holy Scriptures, declare they have God for their author.\nThe Council of Florence gave this explanation: \u201cBecause the saints of\nboth Testaments wrote under the inspiration of the same Holy Spirit.\u201d\n\nBut what is meant by inspiration? An important question, on which not\nonly Protestants differ from Catholics, but on which even orthodox\nwriters are not agreed.\n\nTo say what Protestantism understands by the inspiration of the\nScriptures would be difficult, or, to speak more correctly, impossible.\nIn a system where all belief is founded on free examination, there\nmust be an infinite variety of doctrinal opinions. The first Reformers\nunderstood the inspiration of the holy books in the strictest\nsense\u2014every word of Scripture was sacred. Now, Protestantism, even\nthe most orthodox, allows greater latitude. Constrained to make more\nor less concession to the encroaching spirit of rationalism, it takes\nrefuge in vague expressions that leave one in doubt as to the part\nGod had in the composition of the sacred books. Here is a pastor who\nconsiders himself orthodox, and boasts of remaining faithful to the\nprinciples of Luther and Calvin; he enters upon the subject of the\nScriptures, and speaks at length on the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.\nNevertheless, in these holy books inspired by God, he admits the\npossibility of complete error when there is any question of history or\nscience which does not touch directly on religious dogmas or precepts.\nEven in what relates to religious truth, inspiration, to him, is\nreduced to I know not what particular assistance granted those who\nhad witnessed the life of Christ, in relating what they had seen and\nheard.[65]\n\nAccording to this theory, every way so vague, we ask ourselves, What\nwas the nature of the inspiration imparted to the Evangelists SS. Mark\nand Luke, who were not witnesses of our Saviour\u2019s deeds, but merely\nrelated what they had heard from others; what was the nature of that\nimparted to S. Paul, who had never seen Christ, and took something very\ndifferent for the subject of his epistles from the acts and discourses\nof the Redeemer?\n\nThe incertitudes of Protestantism had pervaded more than one Catholic\nschool, especially in Germany. Jahn, in his introduction to the books\nof the Old Testament, confounds inspiration with assistance. A book\ncomposed by the mere light of reason and pure human industry might be\nplaced on the catalogue of Holy Writ, if the church declared God had\npreserved the writer from all error in the composition of the work.\nWho does not see the falseness of a system which would include all the\ndogmatic decrees of the popes and councils in the canon of Scripture?\nOthers confound inspiration with revealed truth. Every book written\naccording to the precise spirit of divine revelation could be placed\nin the canon. According to this, not only the definitions of popes and\ncouncils, but many ascetic works, sermons, and catechisms, might be\nreckoned among the Holy Scriptures.\n\nFinally, others, desirous of explaining the difference to be seen in\nthe various books of the Bible, think several kinds of inspiration\nare to be distinguished. Sometimes the truths the sacred writer had\nto record were above human comprehension, or at least unknown to him,\nand could only be learned by actual revelation. The inspiration God\naccords for this class of truths supersedes all effort on the part\nof the writer. It is a suggestive inspiration, or, as it is called,\n_antecedent_.\n\nIf the sacred writer was himself aware of the facts he related, and the\nphilosophical maxims he proposed to insert in his book, or if he had\ndrawn from any other source the truths he undertook to record, he had\nno need of suggestive inspiration. His book, however, is to be regarded\nas the work of God if he received special assistance to guide him in\nthe choice of the truths he recorded, and prevent him from making any\nmistake in expressing himself. This is what is called _concomitant_\ninspiration.\n\nFinally, suppose a work composed by mere human wisdom, without any\nother participation on the part of God than general assistance, and\nit comes to pass that God, by the testimony of his prophets, or the\nvoice of the church, declares this book exempt from error, it is\nthereby endowed with infallible authority, and may be reckoned among\nthe Scriptures. This kind of approval has been styled, though very\nimproperly, _subsequent_ inspiration.\n\nThese three distinct kinds of inspiration have been taught by eminent\ntheologians, such as Sixtus of Sienna (_Biblioth. Sac._ l. viii. H\u00e6res,\n12 ad. obj. sept.), Bonfr\u00e8re (_Proloq._ c. viii.), Lessius and Hamel\n(_Hist. Congreg. de Auxiliis_, a Livino de Meyere, l. i. c. ix.). But\nthese doctors never actually applied this distinction to the books that\ncompose the canon of Scripture. It was for them a mere question of\npossibility: could books thus authentically approved have a place in\nthe Scriptural canon? They replied in the affirmative. But are there\nactually any of our holy books that are wholly due to human industry,\nand which God has declared sacred by subsequent approval? We give\nLessius\u2019 opinion: \u201cThough I do not believe this kind of inspiration\nproduced any of our canonical books, I do not think it impossible\u201d\n(_loc. cit._).\n\nBut the wise reserve of these great theologians has not been imitated\nby all. A learned German professor, who is likewise a highly esteemed\nauthor, has not hesitated to apply the distinction of these three\nkinds of inspiration to the existing books: \u201cThe kind of inspiration,\u201d\nhe says, \u201cthat produced such and such a book, or such and such a\npassage, it is almost impossible to determine in particular. We can\nonly say that the parts where we read, _Thus saith the Lord_, or a\nsimilar formula, probably belong to the first kind of inspiration; the\nhistorical narrations that came under the writer\u2019s observation belong\nto the third (subsequent inspiration); the poetical books seem to come\nunder the second (concomitant inspiration).\u201d[66]\n\nThese systems, it is manifest, weaken one\u2019s idea of the inspiration\nof the sacred volume as always understood by the church. We want an\ninspiration by virtue of which the book is really the work of God,\nand not of man\u2014the truths it contains of divine, and not of human,\norigin: man is the instrument, he who dictates is the Holy Ghost:\nman lends his hand and pen, the Spirit of truth puts them in action.\nBut in the systems referred to, it is not really God who speaks: it\nis man. Supernatural testimony gives indeed a divine authority to a\nbook, but it could not make God the author of what was really composed\nby man. And though these writings should contain the exact truths\nof revelation, they would be as much the result of human wisdom as\nsermons, catechisms, ascetic books, and even the creeds and decrees of\ncouncils which clearly state the doctrines of the church.\n\nIt was the duty of the council to put an end to interpretations which,\ndepriving the sacred books of the prestige of divine origin, diminished\ntheir authority among the faithful. It has therefore defined what every\nCatholic must believe concerning the degree of inspiration accorded to\nthe sacred writers. This definition is first stated in a negative form:\n\u201cThe church holds them (the Holy Scriptures) as sacred and canonical,\nnot for the reason that they have been compiled by mere human industry,\nand afterwards approved by her authority; nor only because they contain\nrevelation without error.\u201d To this definition in a negative form\nsucceeds a positive one, in which the council declares the essential\ncondition of a book\u2019s being placed in the canon of Scripture\u2014\u201cbecause,\nhaving been written under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, they\nhave God for their author\u201d: _propterea quod Spiritu Sancto inspirante\nconscripti, Deum habent auctorem_.\n\nThe council, therefore, by this dogmatic definition, has excluded\nany other meaning to the inspiration of the Scriptures that does not\nascribe them to the special agency of God. The schools are still free\nto discuss what this divine operation consists in, and the conditions\non which a book may be said to have God for its author. But they must\nfirst reject every explanation that reduces the agency of God to mere\nassistance, and, still more, to subsequent approbation. It is in this\nsense we must understand the fourth canon of the second series: \u201cIf any\none shall refuse to receive for sacred and canonical the books of the\nHoly Scriptures in their integrity, with all their parts, according as\nthey were enumerated by the Holy Council of Trent, or shall deny that\nthey are inspired by God, let him be anathema.\u201d It is the same anathema\npronounced by the Council of Trent, to which the Council of the Vatican\nhas added the express mention of the inspiration of the Holy Ghost.\n\nThere are other important observations to be made concerning this\ndefinition. Though by no means favorable to the system of Sixtus of\nSienna, Bonfr\u00e8re, and Lessius, it does not, however, condemn them in\nformal terms. These theologians, as we have said, only considered the\nsubject _in abstracto_: Would subsequent inspiration or approbation\ngive a book a right to be placed in the canon?\u2014a verbal question\nrather than one of doctrine. It is certain that such a book would\nhave a sacred authority, but it is also certain that it could not be\ncalled the work of God in the same sense as the holy books now in\nour possession. The council, in its definition, only considered the\nactual point; it declared all the books of our canon have God for\ntheir author, because the Holy Ghost was the chief agent in their\ncomposition. But the opinion of the modern exegete who applies the\ndoctrine of subsequent approbation to the books contained in our actual\ncanon appears to us really condemned by the new definition.\n\nNow, the decree of the Vatican does not forbid the division of the\nholy books into several classes according as the truths they contain\nare recorded by the writer as a special revelation, or from knowledge\nacquired by his natural faculties. But this distinction does not\ninfringe on the overruling agency of God in the composition of the book.\n\nFinally, the question of verbal inspiration, so often discussed by\ntheologians, remains as free since the council as before. It is not\nnecessary for a ruler who issues a decree to dictate every expression,\nbut merely the substance of the new law: the secretary clothes it in\nhis own style. The latter is not a mere copyist: he, too, is the author\nof the decree, but in a secondary sense. It is the same with regard to\nthe Holy Scriptures. The Holy Spirit suggests the truths to be recorded\nin the prophecy, and directs the writer, but David and Isaias clothe\nthem in their own royal style, Amos in his rustic language.\n\n\nV.\n\nWe come now to the question of the interpretation of the holy books.\nOn this point, also, the Council of the Vatican has renewed and\ncompleted the decree of the Council of Trent, which, in its fourth\nsession, endeavored to check the boldness, or, to make use of its\nown expression, the restlessness of the free-thinkers of the age.\nProtestants are constantly appealing to the Scriptures, but to the\nScriptures according to private interpretation. Agreed merely in\ntheir opposition to the church and its doctrines, they are divided\ninfinitely as to the signification of the simplest texts. The strangest\ninterpretations are daily astonishing the faith of the believer, and\ngiving rise to scandals among Christians. To obviate this abuse, the\nCouncil of Trent made the following decree: \u201cIn order to restrain\nrestless spirits, the council decrees that no one, relying on his own\nwisdom in matters of faith and morals pertaining to the edification of\nthe Christian doctrine, shall wrest the Holy Scripture according to his\nown private notions, and have the boldness to interpret it contrary to\nthe true sense in which it has been and is held by our holy mother, the\nchurch, to whom it belongs to judge of the interpretation of the Holy\nScriptures, or contrary to the unanimous consent of the Fathers.\u201d\n\nThis decree, as to its form, is chiefly disciplinary: it prohibits\ninterpreting the Scriptures contrary to the definition of the church\nand the unanimous opinion of the Fathers in all that relates to faith\nand morals.\n\nThis disciplinary prescription is based on a dogmatic principle which\nthe Council of Trent did not define, but which it referred to as an\nincontestable truth: to wit, that to the church it belongs to judge\nof the true meaning of the Scriptures: _cujus est judicare de vero\nsensu et interpretatione Scripturarum sanctarum_. This truth is the\nnecessary consequence of the supreme magistracy of the faith. All\nCatholics venerate the church as the depository of revealed truth,\nand consequently of the Scriptures. But the deposit is not merely a\nmaterial one. The Christian receives the Scriptures from her, first,\nbecause it is by her testimony he is assured of the true canon, that\nthey have God for their author, and that he is enabled to distinguish\nthe real text from the inaccuracies that have, in the course of time,\nbeen introduced by the carelessness of copyists, as well as the\nunscrupulousness of heretics. Moreover, he receives them from the\nchurch, because through her he is made aware of their true meaning.\nWhat would it avail him to possess the inspired volume, if, like the\nbook in the Apocalypse, it were sealed with seven seals? And who has\nthe power to break these seals but the church\u2014bride of the Lamb?\n\nIn vain Protestantism repeats that the Scriptures are plain in\nthemselves, or, at least, that the interior illumination of the Holy\nSpirit renders them intelligible to all. If this is really the case,\nwhy, whenever the voice of the church is unheeded, the infinite number\nof ways of interpreting the same passages? How was it that Calvin\nplainly saw a mere figure of the Presence in the passage relating to\nthe Eucharist, when Luther clearly understood it to mean the Real\nPresence? Would the Holy Spirit speak to Luther in one way, and to\nCalvin in another entirely opposite? Whatever the Reformers may say,\nthe Scriptures are full of obscurity. The truths of salvation they\ncontain are not expressed in the didactic manner of a theological\ntreatise. The truths are there, but veiled in mystery, expressed in a\nlanguage now dead, and full of allusions to a history and to customs\nwidely differing from ours, as well as to the institutions and local\ncircumstances of a nation no longer existing. Private research would,\nno doubt, enable a small number of men of intelligence and learning\nto comprehend many parts of our holy books; but this means is not\naccessible to the masses, who would remain for ever deprived of the\ntruths contained in the Scriptures if there were not on earth an\nauthorized interpreter of the divine text. What certitude would the\nlearned themselves have on this point without the help of the church?\nHow many divergent opinions would not liberty of interpretation\nproduce! It was, therefore, necessary that the church, when entrusted\nwith the Scriptures, should at the same time receive power to\ninterpret them authentically. This is why the Council of Trent forbids\ninterpreting them contrary to the defined meaning of the church.\n\nNow, the church acquits itself of its duties as interpreter in two\nways: by solemn definitions, and by the ordinary teachings of its\ndoctors. The definitions of the church are not, in fact, restricted\nto the declaration of dogmatic decisions: they often decide the real\nmeaning of the Scriptures. Thus we see the Council of Trent is not\nsatisfied with defining the divine institution and existence of the\nsacrament of Extreme Unction: it also declares that the well-known\nwords of the Apostle S. James refer to this sacrament, and designate\nits ministry, its matter, its form, and its effects.[67] In like\nmanner, with regard to the sacrament of Penance, not content with\ndefining its existence, it declares, in the first chapter of the\nfourteenth session, that our Lord referred to this sacrament when,\naddressing his disciples, he said: _Quorum remiseritis peccata_. We\ncould point out many other passages of Scripture of a similar nature\nwhich the Council of Trent and other councils have authentically\ndefined the meaning of.\n\nBut the interpretation of the sacred text is more frequently shown\nby the usage of the church, especially in its liturgy, and by the\nunanimous or almost unanimous teachings of the Fathers and doctors.\nIt was thus the meaning of the passages concerning the Eucharist were\nclearly determined by the liturgy, the writings of the Fathers, the\nteachings of the schools, and the general sentiment of the Christian\nworld a long time before it was expressly defined by the Council of\nTrent. In the same way, the church did not wait for the definition of\nthe Council of the Vatican to regard the promises of Christ to S. Peter\nas made to the See of Rome, and including the essential prerogatives of\nthe Pontifical power.\n\nSuch was the twofold manner of defining the meaning of the Scriptures\nthe Council of Trent had in view when it forbade their interpretation\non points of faith and morals contrary to the sense in which they are\nheld by holy church and the unanimous consent of the Fathers.\n\nThis decree appears sufficiently explicit. And yet semi-rationalism\nfound two ways of eluding its bearing. The first was to regard this\npart of the decree of the fourth session as purely disciplinary,\ndoubtless necessary in the condition of Christendom at the time of\nthe Council of Trent, but susceptible of being afterwards modified.\nNow, in our day, the Catholic faith is no longer attacked as it once\nwas through the authority of the Scriptures. Knowledge has increased.\nThe commentator is forced to be mindful of the progress of human\nintelligence, and to reconcile the meaning of the Scriptures with the\ndiscoveries of the age. If one persists in asserting that the decree of\nthe council relates to faith as well as discipline, semi-rationalism\nhas recourse to another evasion: it understands this decree merely\nin a negative sense; namely, that it is not lawful to interpret the\nScriptures contrary to the Catholic belief, which does not imply any\nobligation to regard the meaning the church attaches to a passage\nof Scripture as an article of faith. According to this rule, the\nCatholic theologian could not interpret any text in opposition to the\nexistence of the sacrament of Extreme Unction, but, notwithstanding the\ndeclarations of the Council of Trent, he would remain within the bounds\nof orthodoxy, even if he denied that the words of S. James had any\nreference to this sacrament.\n\nSuch is the half-way manner in which unsubmissive souls flatter\nthemselves they can remain true to the faith without accepting the\nteachings of the church. For a long time this doctrine was practically\nfollowed, though not formally stated. We will give an example. In the\nXVIIth century, the Oratorian, Richard Simon, carried the boldness of\nhis criticisms to such an extreme that he openly acknowledged he made\nno account of traditional interpretation, the authority of the Fathers,\nand the teachings of the church; pretending to correct, according\nto the Hebrew or Greek text, the meaning constantly followed by the\ndoctors of the church. Our readers are well aware with what vigor\nBossuet attacked a system so thoroughly Protestant.[68]\n\nBut this way of understanding the decree of the Council of Trent was\nin direct opposition to the terms in which it is conceived. The form\ndoubtless is disciplinary, but the foundation of this law is expressly\nstated, and is wholly dogmatic: _Cujus (ecclesi\u00e6) est judicare de vero\nsensu et interpretatione Scripturarum sanctarum_. This was not a mere\ndisciplinary prescript made for the first time by the council, but the\nreminder of an obligation imposed on all Christians by the very nature\nof revelation and the authority of the church.\n\nIf it is not true that this decree is purely disciplinary, it is\nstill less so that it should be understood in a mere negative sense,\nas if the council only intended forbidding the interpretation of the\nScriptures contrary to the express dogmas or even the definitions of\nthe church and the unanimous opinion of the Fathers. The principle\non which this decree is founded goes still further: \u201cIt is to the\nchurch it belongs to judge of the true sense and interpretation of\nthe Holy Scriptures.\u201d Consequently, we ought not only to refrain from\ncontradicting her authentic interpretation, but should regard her as\nour guide, and her decision in matters of interpretation as binding on\nevery Christian, so that he would fall into heresy who should refuse to\naccept the meaning of a passage of Scripture as defined by holy church.\nSuch is the evident meaning of the decree of the Council of Trent.\n\nThis truth is so manifest that the profession of faith by Pius IV.\nsubstitutes the positive and general form for the negative and\nrestrictive terms of the decree: \u201cI also admit the Holy Scriptures\naccording to that sense which our Holy Mother the church hath held\nand doth hold, to whom it belongeth to judge of the true sense and\ninterpretation of the Scriptures; neither will I ever take and\ninterpret them otherwise than according to the unanimous consent\nof the Fathers.\u201d Here the teachings of the church and the opinions\nof the Fathers are plainly made the positive and authentic rule of\ninterpretation.\n\nThere could be no doubt as to the meaning of the Fathers of Trent.\nBut a controversy having arisen on a point of so much importance, the\nFathers of the Vatican were forced to explain this decree in such a way\nas to prevent any ambiguity. They did so in these terms: \u201cAnd since\nthose things which the Council of Trent has declared by wholesome\ndecree concerning the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures, in order\nto restrain restless spirits, are explained by some in a wrong sense;\nwe, renewing the same decree, declare this to be the mind of the synod:\nthat, in matters of faith and morals which pertain to the edification\nof Christian doctrine, that is to be held as the true sense of the\nsacred Scripture which Holy Mother Church, to whom it belongs to judge\nof the true sense and interpretation of the sacred Scriptures, has held\nand holds: and therefore that no one may interpret the sacred Scripture\ncontrary to this sense or contrary to the unanimous consent of the\nFathers.\u201d\n\nIt follows from the definition of the Vatican that the decree of the\nCouncil of Trent was not purely disciplinary, but likewise dogmatic:\nthat consequently it was not intended for a particular epoch and\nexceptional circumstances, but was the expression of a divine law\napplicable to every age, and as lasting as the church and the world;\nthat this decree not only forbids understanding the Scriptures contrary\nto the belief and interpretation of the church, but makes it a positive\nobligation to accept the meaning the church attaches to the sacred\ntext; in short, that the disciplinary law is founded on a dogmatic\ntruth which makes the authentic interpretation of the church a rule of\nfaith to which every mind should submit in the study of Holy Writ.\n\nIt is thus the Council of the Vatican has renewed, explained, and\ncompleted the definitions of the Council of Trent touching the great\nquestion of the Scriptures. The second chapter of the Constitution\n_Dei Filius_, in addition to the decree of the fourth session of the\nCouncil of Trent, henceforth forms the basis of theological teachings\nin everything relating to Biblical science.\n\n\n\n\nMYTHS AND MYTH-MONGERS.[69]\n\n This bald, unjointed chat of his, my lord, I answered\n indirectly\u2014_Shakespeare, Henry IV._\n\n\nAUTHORS are proverbially not the best judges of their own works. It is\nas rare, therefore, as it is gratifying to meet with one whose verdict\non his own production exactly coincides with that of the critic. Such\na fortunate concurrence of opinion between the writer and the person\nto whose lot it has fallen to pass sentence on a work for a certain\nportion of the public, relieves the latter gentleman of a vast amount\nof responsibility, and renders his difficult task infinitely lighter\nand more pleasant than such a task generally proves to be.\n\nWhen, then, Mr. Fiske, the author of _Myths and Myth-Makers_, is kind\nenough gratuitously to inform us in his preface that the \u201cseries\nof papers\u201d of which his book is composed is \u201csomewhat rambling and\nunsystematic,\u201d it can be considered no injustice to him, and no\npresumption on our part, to say that we cordially agree with him.\nAnd when he further informs us that, \u201cin order to avoid confusing\nthe reader with intricate discussions, he has sometimes cut the\nmatter short by expressing himself with dogmatic definiteness where a\nsceptical vagueness might perhaps have been more becoming,\u201d we find\nnothing whatever to object to in this statement, with the solitary\nexception of the word \u201cperhaps,\u201d which, if suppressed, would bring it\nnearer the exact truth.\n\nHowever, Mr. Fiske has here furnished us with a very fair idea, of\nwhat the reader is to expect from his _Myths_. He himself has passed\nsentence on himself. He tells us practically that we must not expect\ntoo much from his \u201crambling\u201d papers; he forestalls, if he does not\ndeprecate, criticism by assuring us at the outstart that his fault\nhas not been on the side of modesty of opinion and judicial weighing\nof what he set forth. What, then, is left for the critic to do but to\nconfirm the self-condemnation of the author?\n\nBut we cannot allow Mr. Fiske to escape us in this fashion. Mr. Fiske\nis an M.A., and Mr. Fiske is an LL.B., and a professor, and a professor\nof philosophy\u2014at Harvard, too. So that, although the dates so\ncarefully affixed to the end of each of his \u201crambling and unsystematic\u201d\npapers indicate that Mr. Fiske knocked this book off in three months,\nstill three months of philosophic chaff from a Harvard professor ought\nsurely to contain some grains of wheat.\n\nThe book in itself is not an uninteresting one. It is chock-full of\nmythical stories, or folk-lore, or whatever people may please to\ncall what in our younger days we should have comprised under the one\ndelicious head of fairy-tales. To be sure, the stories were all told\nbefore and by somebody else; but then, Mr. Fiske gives everybody\ndue credit, and confines his own portion of the work to a running\ncommentary with an undercurrent of foot-notes, and all sorts of\nquotations, from the Rig-Veda down to Jack and Jill. We cannot in\njustice say that Mr. Fiske\u2019s portion is as interesting as the myths\nthemselves, though partaking considerably of their character.\n\nBut to come to the point\u2014what does Mr. Fiske mean by his book? What\nidea would he convey to us? What would he have us infer from it? \u201cA\nbook\u2019s a book, although there\u2019s nothing in\u2019t.\u201d\n\nIf it is suggestive of anything at all, it is this: all or the chief\nportion of the great myths of antiquity refer to the struggle between\ndarkness and light. It was the phenomenon of night and day which\npuzzled people in the dawn of the world, ages before men possessed the\ngreat blessing of this XIXth century, which blessing is, according to\nMr. Fiske, _via_ M. Littr\u00e9, \u201cscientific faith,\u201d seemingly the only sure\nthing in this enlightened age.\n\nSome people might require a definition of this wonderful faith of\nmodern invention; but then, some people always will ask disagreeable\nquestions. For their benefit, it may be said to mean taking nothing for\nfact or truth except what you can arrive at, or prove, or demonstrate\nby a scientific process: in plain English, no faith at all.\n\nMr. Fiske then takes up this theory: that all men, being puzzled by\nthis daily phenomenon of light and darkness, day and night, and having\nno \u201cscientific faith\u201d to guide them, and nothing better (Mr. Fiske\nwill pardon us this little bit of heresy against the XIXth century)\nto supply its place, set to thinking and endeavoring to solve this\ntremendous problem. They were all a dreadful sort of people all the\nworld over: they \u201cknew nothing about laws of nature, nothing about\nphysical forces, nothing about the relations of cause and effect,\nnothing about the necessary regularity of things.\u201d As a set-off against\nall these \u201cnothings,\u201d they possessed a something in the shape of \u201can\nunlimited capacity for believing and fancying, because fancy and\nbelief had not yet been checked and headed off in various directions\nby established rules of experience.\u201d To all of which, and a great deal\nmore of the same nature, we feel very much inclined to append that\nawkward _Q. E. D._ of the geometry which somebody would tag on to the\nend of those beautiful propositions at school, and which our professor\nterrified us by translating, \u201cWhich must be proved.\u201d\n\nMr. Fiske, then, having set this profound and eternal conundrum before\nthe crazed intellects of the human race, which were gifted, according\nto him, with nothing but this \u201cunlimited capacity for believing and\nfancying\u201d\u2014one would imagine that there might have been room for\nRevelation here; but Revelation, of course, clashes with \u201cscientific\nfaith,\u201d and is therefore a myth in Mr. Fiske\u2019s eyes\u2014what were the\npoor beings to do but endow everything, particularly the sun, with the\n\u201cvolition\u201d which they felt within themselves? How or why this _must_\nhave been so Mr. Fiske fails to explain, or indeed that it was so\nat all. However, just for argument\u2019s sake, let us take his word for\nit, though by so doing we are false to scientific faith. Mr. Fiske\u2019s\nproposition, then, runs thus: Given the sun, and given the people with\neyes to gaze at the sun, the people must necessarily have endowed the\nsun with \u201cvolition,\u201d and worshipped the sun as a god. Once more, _Q. E.\nD._\n\nHence Mr. Fiske proceeds to argue: \u201cThe conception of infallible skill\nin archery, which underlies such a great variety of myths and popular\nfairy-tales, is originally derived from the inevitable victory of the\nsun over his enemies, the demons of night, winter, and tempest. Arrows\nand spears which never miss their mark, swords from whose blow no\narmor can protect, are invariably the weapons of solar divinities or\nheroes.\u201d Consequently, Mr. Fiske is cruel enough to knock on the head a\nconsiderable number of fictitious characters who were much better known\nand loved by us years ago than many real characters to-day. He levels\nhis shaft tipped with scientific faith, whiz!\u2014and down drop William\nTell, William of Cloudeslee, Beth-Gellert, Jack and the Beanstalk,\nRoland, Sir Bedivere, Ulysses, Achilles, Balder the Beautiful,\nHercules, and a whole host of other famous heroes\u2014or rather they\nmount, for one and all represented the sun, and were types and figures\nof his solar majesty.\n\nWell, though we grieve to say it, it may be so; but the consolation\nis still left us that, even if it be so, \u201cit\u2019s of no consequence,\u201d as\nour old friend Mr. Toots was wont sagaciously to remark. There is so\nmuch of reality around us, and so much real sham, to speak a paradox,\nto wing with our arrows, to shoot at all our lifelong and make no\nvisible impression on, that we have neither time, nor inclination, nor\npatience to bother our brains with wire-drawn theories as to whether\nTell was Tell or the sun; whether a man ever performed the impossible\nfeat of piercing an apple, which happened to be on his boy\u2019s head, with\na shaft or not, or whether a dog was killed by its master in mistake.\nSuch things may serve to amuse children or people who can find nothing\nbetter to occupy their time. So far there is nothing to object to in\nit. But when a man takes every imaginable story, collects them all as\nhe would old fossils, and tickets each off with a bad explanation,\nor throws them together into a bag, as it were, and, charlatan-like,\nshakes them all up in order to see if by any chance they might tumble\nout in a shape antagonistic to Christianity, a work which, in view of\nthe many realities around us, is rubbish at the best, becomes in Mr.\nFiske\u2019s hands rubbish at the worst.\n\nFor he does not hold to his tether; he will go out of his way to drag\nreligion into a place where, if it must enter, it shows itself, as\nalways, full of majesty, and beauty, and sublime truth, but not a thing\nof ridicule, as this writer, by hint, and innuendo, and insinuating\nlittle foot-note, and sly little chuckle, and weak little laugh, and\nwit of the very smallest, would make it.\n\n\u201cThe religious myths of antiquity, and the fireside legends of ancient\nand modern times, have their common roots in the mental habits of\nprimeval humanity. They are the earliest recorded utterances of men\nconcerning the visible phenomena of the world into which they were\nborn.\u201d\n\nNow, there is nothing particularly startling in this passage; it is\njust such an one as the reader might or might not assent to, being\nreally utterly careless on the subject. He would scarcely stop to\ninquire how far Mr. Fiske\u2019s \u201creligious myths of antiquity\u201d extended.\nThere is a seemingly unconscious vagueness about the phrase that\nallows it to pass without question. And Mr. Fiske\u2019s theories, if we\nmay dignify them by such a title, run on smoothly enough in killing\nBeth-Gellert for the thousandth time, and bringing his powerful mind\nand the infallible test of his \u201cscientific faith\u201d to bear on old\nnursery jingles\u2014such, for instance, as:\n\n  \u201cJack and Jill went up the hill\n    To get a pail of water;\n  Jack fell down and broke his crown,\n    And Jill came tumbling after.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis may read like mere nonsense,\u201d says Mr. Fiske. Again we agree\nwith him it may; but the rising smile fades on the lip when met by the\nsolemn assurance immediately following: \u201cBut there is a point of view\nfrom which it may be safely said that there is very little absolute\nnonsense in the world.\u201d\n\nWe grieve to say that the thought which struck us immediately on\nreading this aphorism of Mr. Fiske\u2019s was that, if one thing more than\nanother could tend to make us dubious as to its truth, it would be the\nperusal of his own book. But _revenons_: \u201cThe story is a venerable\none,\u201d he proceeds _in re_ \u201cJack and Jill.\u201d \u201cThey\u2014the children\u2014fall\naway from one another as the moon wanes, and their water-pail\nsymbolizes the supposed connection of the moon with rainstorms.\u201d\n\nLeaving our readers to ponder over this profound mystery so solemnly\nset forth by the author, dazzled and bewildered, doubtless, by this\nlatest exhibition of moonshine, we pass from it to other things. It is\nof a piece with all the author\u2019s deductions, and as fair a sample as\nany other of the ingenuity of his argument and the profundity of his\nconclusions. We do not attempt to refute them; that task is above us;\nwe leave such questions to be argued out in their more fitting sphere,\nwhere the characters in the story are best known and believed in\u2014the\nnursery.\n\nTo all this sort of thing we do not object; it is very harmless,\nand though scarcely the style of study and method of deduction one\nmight expect from a professor of philosophy at what is esteemed the\nleading university in the United States, we can only arrive, however\nregretfully, at the conclusion that we had perhaps made a false\nestimate of the intellectual standing of that university, and of the\ncalibre, mental and moral, of its professors. Still, Mr. Fiske may\nargue all his lifelong in this fashion, and we can only wish him better\nemployment. But unfortunately he does not stop here.\n\nAll the unravelling of these worthless myths has one aim and tendency:\nthe connecting with them true religion, Judaism first, and afterwards\nChristianity, the belief in Christ, the Christian sacraments, Christian\nobservances, Christian practices; not as the one truth of which all\nthese myths formed so many broken and distorted fragments, but\u2014hear\nit, Christian fathers who send your sons to Harvard to learn wisdom and\ntruth from such men as the one under our notice\u2014a myth with the rest\nof them!\n\nUlysses, Achilles, Ormutz, Thor, Tell, William of Cloudeslee, the sun,\nJesus Christ\u2014\u201cThese be thy gods, O Israel!\u201d\n\nA mad world, my masters! We are all wrong; living in a myth,\nworshipping a myth, teaching a myth, our social and political state\nto-day built upon a myth. \u201cWe may learn anew the lesson, taught with\nfresh emphasis by modern scholarship, that in the deepest sense there\nis nothing new under the sun.\u201d So says Mr. Fiske. There is nothing sure\nbut scientific faith as expounded by M. Littr\u00e9 and\u2014Mr. Fiske. All the\nrest is myth.\n\nIt would be no surprise to us if Mr. Fiske were indignantly to reject\nthe construction which the Catholic, or the Christian reader of\nwhatever denomination, who possesses any knowledge of Christianity,\nmust put upon his words. Apparently he himself is not sufficiently\nacquainted with Christianity to understand the meaning of those words;\nand yet he is a \u201cprofessor of philosophy\u201d at a presumably Christian\nuniversity. He is, to judge him by this book, of that school of\nwould-be atheists so fashionable tod-ay, who talk mild infidelity\nover their tea, and take it down with their muffins\u2014a toast-and-water\ninfidelity, nice to take hob-and-nob with and to the admiration of\nsome antiquated Blue-Stocking. Mr. Fiske, like his class, might be\nconsidered an atheist did he only possess the faintest conception of\nwhat Christianity meant. An atheist is not a man who does not, but\nwho _will_ not, know God\u2014a rebellious spirit who, like the fallen\narchangel who has seduced him, rejects God, flings back his offering,\nand cries out: \u201cI will not serve!\u201d\n\nSuch is atheism\u2014negation, not unconsciousness; denial, not lack of\nknowledge. Mr. Fiske\u2019s toast-and-water stuff partakes of the latter\ncharacter. It is so very weak, so very thin, so supremely unconscious\nof its feebleness, so full of self-sufficiency, so sublimely ignorant\nof the fact that the poor little hobby-horse which it rides astride of,\nand on which it pranks out, with \u201call the pomp and circumstance\u201d of\nmimic warfare, to have a tilt with the church, has been long ago ridden\nto death by far doughtier champions than Mr. Fiske, but with a like\nresult\u2014a tumble in the dust. Like the carpet-knight, who, \u201cbut for\nthose vile guns, might himself have been a soldier,\u201d but for the vile\nfaith, these carpet-atheists might themselves have become Christian.\nDid we not recollect that they possess immortal souls destined for one\nof two eternities, we might almost congratulate ourselves on their\ndefection.\n\nBut not to lay so very serious a charge at Mr. Fiske\u2019s door without\njust grounds, we proceed to give a few instances of that gentleman\u2019s\nmythical contortions, which will sufficiently vindicate the severe\nstrictures we feel compelled to pass upon his book\u2014a book, indeed,\nwhich should have passed unnoticed, only that it is typical of the tone\nand tendency of the class of writers remarked upon above.\n\nMr. Fiske would seem to have received some sort of a Christian\neducation, if we may so call it, in his youth; for he tells us \u201cof\nthat burning Calvinistic hell with which his childish imagination had\nbeen unwisely terrified.\u201d Calvinism probably drove him into revolt\nagainst Christianity, as it has driven so many others, and, instead of\nreturning, and examining, and searching for truth, he has adopted the\neasier course of saying that it was all a sham\u2014the devil was only a\nbogy conjured up by nurses to frighten children and make them good.\nChristianity was an excellent religion for children and timid old\nmaids; but for MEN, men of the XIXth century, it was a little\ntoo much. On reading the fables of the pagans, he found that they had\ntheir bogies to frighten their children, as the heathen possesses them\nstill. All the same, all the same, all the way down to the cradle, if\nthere be such, of the race.\n\n  \u201cBlack spirits and white,\n    Red spirits and gray,\n  Mingle, mingle, mingle,\n    You that mingle may.\u201d\n\nSuch, if put into a coherent shape, would be, we think, Mr. Fiske\u2019s\nmode of explaining his belief. To him all mystery is myth, and the one\ntrue guide is scientific faith.\n\nThere is no mention of Revelation from beginning to end of the book:\nthe author evidently does not believe in it. But though he is careful\nnot to say so in express words, the meaning of all his deductions is\nvery clear; and passages from the sacred Scriptures are contorted to\nsuit his purpose.\n\nThus, we are told[70] that \u201cthe very idea of an archfiend, Satan,\nwhich Christianity received from Judaism, seems to have been suggested\nby the Persian Ahriman, or at least to have derived its principal\ncharacteristics from that source. There is no evidence that the Jews,\nprevious to the Babylonish captivity, possessed the conception of\na devil as the author of all evil. In the earlier books of the Old\nTestament, Jehovah is represented as dispensing with his own hand the\ngood and the evil, like the Zeus of the _Iliad_.\u201d\n\nOf course, to a man of Mr. Fiske\u2019s vast knowledge and profound\nerudition, it would be an impertinence to suggest that, as the\nname\u2014the mere name, apart from all belief in it\u2014Jehovah is the more\nancient of the two, it might have been more in order to invert its\nposition, so that it would run: \u201cThe Zeus of the _Iliad_, like the\nJehovah of the Old Testament, was the dispenser of good and evil.\u201d But\nMr. Fiske studiously sets Jehovah first in place, though second in\ntime, giving one to understand thereby that Zeus was his precursor.\nThis may have been done inadvertently, but, if so, there is a strange\nmethod in Mr. Fiske\u2019s carelessness. He is clearly a believer in that\n\n  \u201cDivinity which doth shape our ends,\n  Rough hew them as we may.\u201d\n\nThen, again, Mr. Fiske is correct enough in the passages which he cites\nas showing that the Jehovah of the Old Testament dispenses \u201cwith his\nown hand the good and the evil.\u201d There is nothing startling in this: it\nis the soundest Catholic as well as Jewish doctrine. We believe that\nGod does dispense the good and the evil alike; but the \u201cdispensing\nof the good and the evil\u201d is a very different thing from the phrase\nwhich concludes the preceding sentence: \u201cThe author of _all_ evil.\u201d\nMr. Fiske plumes himself on his philological knowledge; he is great\nin word-science, if we may so call it; does he, then, recognize no\ndistinction between \u201ca dispenser\u201d and \u201can author,\u201d or again, between\nevil and evil, or still further, between \u201cevil\u201d and \u201c_all_ evil\u201d?\n\n\u201cEvil is natural and moral,\u201d says the dictionary. In the first sense,\nit means what we generally comprehend by the word \u201cmisfortune\u201d; as,\nevil tidings, evil news, evil accident. In this sense, God is said\nto be the dispenser of evil; that is, of trials which he sets his\nchildren, as a father sets his son a hard task, to prepare them, to\ntest them, to educate them, to lift them up to the fulness of manhood,\nwhich is in God. \u201cWhom the Lord loveth, he chastiseth.\u201d But \u201cmoral\nevil\u201d or what Mr. Fiske calls \u201call evil,\u201d is a very different thing. It\nis that which is evil naturally, _in se_ and _per se_, which is in the\nwill of the devil, and which it is blasphemy to attribute to God. Evil\nin the first sense may be, is generally, good in itself: the latter,\nnever. It may not be blasphemy in Mr. Fiske, for, as we said, he does\nnot, from insufficient acquaintance with the subject, know the meaning\nof his own words. But observe how carefully all these words are placed\nin connection and juxtaposition one with another, and how easily each\nslides into its wrong place. Again, there is a singular method in Mr.\nFiske\u2019s glaring\u2014for a milder term in the face of what we have just\npointed out would be impossible\u2014inaccuracies.\n\nHe goes on: \u201cThe story of the serpent in Eden\u2014an Aryan story in every\nparticular, which has crept into the Pentateuch\u2014is not once alluded\nto in the Old Testament.\u201d To this he adds a note: \u201cNor is there any\nground for believing that the serpent in the _Eden-myth_ is intended\nfor Satan?\u201d Though Mr. Fiske is overrunning our space far more than we\nintended he should do at the beginning, the next sentence is too good\nto omit, as replete with a piece of criticism unique in its simplicity\nand loftiness of tone: \u201cThe identification (of the serpent in the\nEden-myth with Satan) is entirely the work of modern dogmatic theology,\nand is due, naturally enough, to the habit, so common alike among\ntheologians and laymen, of reasoning about the Bible as if it were a\nsingle book (!), and not a collection of writings of different ages and\nof very different degrees of historic authenticity.\u201d\n\nTo all his readers the question will naturally suggest itself: Has Mr.\nFiske ever been outside the walls of Harvard? But there\u2014we leave the\nmatter: it suggests its own comment; and, moreover, Mr. Fiske promises\nus, \u201cin a future work entitled (start not, ye publishers!) _Aryana\nVaedjo_, to examine, at considerable length, _this interesting myth_ of\nthe Garden of Eden.\u201d We hope to see it.\n\nWell, here we have in plain English the whole story of the fall of man,\nthe origin of good and evil in this world, and the cause of all the\nconsequences which followed therefrom; the whole story of the Creation\nin fact, as in another place that of the Deluge, set aside quietly\nand easily, without a word of doubt, or difficulty, or hesitation, as\na myth. It would be interesting to know what Mr. Fiske does believe\non these points\u2014but his book is to come. We trust he will take the\npains to set us right on the subject of the origin of man and of the\nCreation generally. Of man we should judge him to have as high an\nopinion as Mr. Darwin, when he explains his present condition as being\nbrought about by \u201cthat stupendous process of breeding which we call\ncivilization; which has strengthened the feelings by which we are\nchiefly distinguished from the brutes, leaving _our primitive bestial\nimpulses_ to die for want of exercise, or checking in every possible\nway their further expansion by legislative enactments. (Draw this to\nits legitimate conclusion, and there is no such thing as morality, it\nbeing merely synonymous with law or education.) But this process which\nis transforming us from savages into civilized men is a very slow one;\nand now and then there occur cases of what physiologists call atavism,\nor _reversion to an ancestral type of character_.... Now and then\npersons are born possessed of the bestial appetite and cravings of\nprimitive man, his fiendish cruelty, and his liking for human flesh.\u201d\n\nThis is a Harvard professor who thus explains what people generally\naccredit to the maxims of the Gospel and the teachings of Jesus Christ.\nMorality is simply education or force, and evil is inherent in the\nnaturally brutal being, man, who, like Topsy, gradually \u201cgrowed\u201d up to\nwhat he is.\n\nIt were easy to go on thus multiplying instances of the truth of our\nobservation, that Mr. Fiske reduces Christianity to a myth; but we\nthink there is enough proof already. We pass by many things, therefore,\nwhere the author\u2019s display of shallow learning is only equalled by his\nflimsy remarks. In a note (p. 48), he would have us infer that the\nJews believed in a plurality of gods just as did the pagans, because\nElohim\u2014God\u2014is plural\u2014a common use of the word even in the English\nVersion, as when God says, \u201cLet us go down and confound their tongue,\u201d\netc.; but the Jews certainly never interpreted it as meaning anything\nelse than the one God, whom they adored. It was merely a foreshadowing\nof the doctrine of the Trinity. In another place, he informs us that\nS. Ursula is Artemis and Aphrodite, S. Gertrude the heathen Holda. He\nis evidently unaware that one of the most popular books of Catholic\ndevotion is written by the \u201cheathen Holda.\u201d Stupid inaccuracies of\nthis description are unaccountable. In any other person they would\nindicate a mind inflated with that dangerous \u201clittle learning\u201d which\nPope warns us against; in a Harvard \u201cprofessor of philosophy,\u201d they\ndoubtless take the form of Shakespeare\u2019s sins against grammar and good\ntaste, and go down as \u201cbeauties.\u201d \u201cAngels\u2014women with large wings\u201d\n(_sic_)\u2014are kinsfolk of the werewolf family, and Christianity has\n\u201c_degraded_ the beneficent lightning-god, Thor,\u201d into the \u201cgrotesque\nmedi\u00e6val devil.\u201d Odin and other glorious divinities undergo a similar\nhideous transformation under the \u201cdegrading\u201d influence of Christianity.\nIn fact, Christianity is but a system of plagiarizing, and plagiarizing\nwhich by no means improves on the old pagan superstitions. The devil is\nreally a good-natured sort of being, or was till Christianity came and\nspoiled his temper and himself generally. Of course such a being never\nexisted except in the brain of superstitious people unendowed with\nscientific faith, who were racking their brains to find out the meaning\nof that eternal puzzle, darkness and light, so that they at length came\nto embody darkness in the form of the devil, and light in the person of\nGod, or Jupiter, or Apollo, or William Tell. That is the plain English\nof Mr. Fiske\u2019s book.\n\nMr. Fiske seems to think that he has struck a new vein, and opened up\nto the world a golden ore long hidden. His theory is as old as any\nother; and he has only given us a poor rehash of what much cleverer\nmen than he have oversurfeited us with ages ago. Before attempting to\nhandle the subjects he has touched upon, it would be advisable to go\nto school again, and he might thus be saved a lamentable display of\nchildish ignorance on points known to all the world, save apparently\nto Mr. Fiske. In a very weak review of a most interesting and clever\nbook, _Juventus Mundi_, written by a scholar and a thinker, neither of\nwhich titles we feel justified in applying to Mr. Fiske, this latter\ngentleman remarks, with astonishment, that Mr. Gladstone draws an\nanalogy between the gods of heathendom and the God of Christianity;\nin other words, between distorted truth and its first original. This,\nagain, is as old as the hills. _Prometheus_, for instance, has struck\nall readers as a wonderful type of the Saviour; and so with other\ngods and heroes of antiquity. Scholars are pleased to draw likenesses\nbetween the characters of the fables of pagan antiquity and those of\nthe sacred Scriptures; such connection is by no means necessary to\nprove the truth of Christianity and of the doctrines of Revelation.\nChristianity is here, around us, living, real: we are in it. It is\nclear, well defined, unchanging, distinct, a solemn and awful fact:\ndeal with _it_, study it, destroy it, if you can. It has no connection,\nclaims no connection, needs no connection, with paganism. It stands\nalone, self-sufficient, for God is its centre. It embraces the world;\nit rules nations; and the better the governments, the nearer they\napproach to the observance of its codes. History hallows it; scientific\ndiscovery only tends to confirm our faith in it. It is superseding all\nthings, as its Founder meant it should; and people have the impudence,\nfor it is nothing else, to come and tell us to-day, in out-of-the-way\nnotes in silly books, that this stupendous fact is a myth! We can only\nsay to them, _tolle, lege_!\n\nIt is easy for a man to sit down in his chair, and spin out a theory,\nconnecting the most distant objects together in his own mind. Thus\nMr. Fiske drives Tell back to the sun, or Ulysses, or Odysseus, as he\nprefers to call him, for he takes kindly to what we may be pardoned\ncalling the _Grotesque_ etymology; and even in this, like all poor\nimitators, goes beyond his master. Homer tells us Ulysses was a man,\na great traveller, who had seen many lands. Oh! no, says Mr. Fiske;\nHomer made a great mistake; he did not know what he was talking about;\nUlysses was meant for the sun. And yet Mr. Fiske tells us that the\n\u201cminds of primitive men worked like our own, and, when they spoke of\nthe far-darting sun-god, they meant just what they said.\u201d Why should\nnot this reasoning hold good for Ulysses, as well as for Apollo?\n\nWhy, we might take up the story of Mr. Stanley\u2019s discovery of\nLivingstone, and concoct a far better myth out of it than Mr. Fiske has\nout of many of his materials. Livingstone, like Ulysses, is a man who\nhad seen many lands; he is hurried away and lost to the world in a dark\nand fiery country\u2014a land of demons and impenetrable burning deserts.\nThe world laments his loss, and Stanley, the youthful, the Dawn, goes\nout to seek him, and, after the usual obstacles, finds him in the dark\nland, clothed in rags, with a blue cap on his head, adorned with a gold\nband, a long beard falling gray over his breast, surrounded by the dark\nchildren of the desert. When that fabulous New Zealander sits on the\nruins of London Bridge, some future Professor Fiske will probably take\nup this story of to-day, and weave a myth out of it as the present one\nhas done with Ulysses; but Mr. Fiske may remember that the prophet who\nforetold the New Zealander in his incongruous position only did so to\nserve as an example of the indestructibility of God\u2019s church.\n\nIf he must refer everything back to light, why not go a little beyond\nthe sun to the _Lux Mundi_\u2014the light which shineth in the darkness,\nbut which the darkness comprehended not? Light and fire run from the\nbeginning to the end of the New and Old Testaments, as typical of God.\nThe first thing God made was light; he spoke to Moses in a burning\nbush; his angel accompanied his people in a cloud and a pillar of\nlight. Man cannot look upon his face and live, for the glory of it. Is\nit possible that Mr. Fiske, who is so keen at connections, could miss\nsuch palpable indications of the connection between the traditions he\nhas mentioned and Revelation, without being struck by it, unless he did\nso intentionally?\n\nHad we space, we could show by comparison that the very words he has\nquoted from Indian and other traditions of the Michabo, the great white\nOne, of the origin of the world and the history of the Deluge, are\nalmost identical in phrase even with the Scriptures. From F. De Smet\u2019s\ninteresting Indian sketches, appearing in the _Catholic Review_, we\nfind that the Indians adore the Great Medicine, who is, above all, the\nAll-powerful, and sacrifice to him through the sun and the thunder,\nbecause the sun is his great servitor.\n\nAnd as for the devil, whom Mr. Fiske finds such an amusing character\n(happy man! may he never be undeceived!), it may make him laugh at us,\nbut, for our part, we have a very decided belief in his existence and\npower to do harm; in fact, did we only discern a spice of something\nstronger and more powerful than Mr. Fiske presents us in his book,\njust the faintest flavor of the genuine article\u2014real brimstone and\nfire\u2014we should have been led to refer its authorship to the very\npersonage whom Mr. Fiske so despises. As it is, the work is unworthy\nof his Satanic majesty. He inspired the idea which animates it long\nago, but the present execution is by too weak a hand for his. In this\nwe find an indication that the idea is used up and gone beyond working\norder\u2014driven to death, in fact.\n\nSuperstition undoubtedly did exist in the middle ages; perhaps\u2014for\nwe are not too ready to believe this age so very far superior in\nmany points to those days as is generally conceded; at all events,\nthe world, as the world, is materially even very little better off\nthan it then was, notwithstanding all our boasted science, and the\nrest, and the days allotted to man are not lengthened\u2014perhaps, then,\nsuperstition did flourish at that time to a greater extent than it\ndoes to-day; but what does that prove? Simply that Christianity, \u201cthat\nstupendous process of breeding,\u201d did not convert the world in a day.\n\nDid superstition prevail to a greater or less degree than it did prior\nto the introduction of Christianity, before the old Jewish order passed\naway, and gave place to the new\u2014to the religion which was no longer\nto be restricted to a single nation, but which was to spread abroad,\nto become Catholic, and embrace the world, the family of God\u2019s human\ncreatures, within its bosom? Was it, so much of it as did exist, more\nor less hideous in the supernatural figures with which it peoples the\nuniverse? Were the Norse gods of blood and bestiality, Thor, and Odin,\nand Friga, \u201cdegraded\u201d? Could they be degraded? Was Venus degraded, or\nJupiter, or Bacchus, or the multitude of others, by being replaced by\nthe truth, by the light which was so long coming and expected of the\nnations\u2014by the Sun of Justice?\n\nIt was this bursting of the light of the world upon nations which\ndispelled for ever the dark mists of superstition that had so long\nhidden the creation from its Creator; this was the Sun the nations\ndimly saw and adored; this was the victorious Conqueror who overcame\nall obstacles by his own sufferings, and death, and sacrifice; who,\nlike Prometheus, \u201ccame to cast fire upon the earth,\u201d and who died in\nagony to save his fellows, and destroy the false Jove with his heaven\nof immorality\u2014Jesus Christ! at whose name \u201cevery knee shall bow.\u201d\n\nAnd the darkness was this very devil, the author of all evil, who fell,\nfreely and consciously, in eternal rebellion against God; who cannot\nbe destroyed, for God created him immortal; who uses the power still\nleft him, which was once heavenly, in order to lead into rebellion\nall creation against the God he hates with an eternal hatred; who is\npermitted by God to tempt man, for man is a free agent\u2014God not having\nendowed a mere machine with the breath of life, the breathing of his\nspirit\u2014and, if man falls, he falls freely and consciously as did Satan.\n\nHere lay the puzzle of darkness and light, good and evil, right and\nwrong. The world saw itself bounded everywhere by the impassable; by\nits wickedness it had lost the clear knowledge of its God; it would\noverleap those barriers, and reach him again. The craving of its heart\nwas eternal; it saw the marks of its God around it: \u201cThe heavens\ndeclared the glory of God, and the firmament displayed the wonders of\nhis works.\u201d Men felt the supernatural, and worshipped; but their eyes\nwere blinded, and, groping in the darkness for their God, they mistook\nhis enemy, and worshipped him.\n\nPaganism was and is the worship of the devil. The evil one allows men\nto worship him under whatever form they please, provided only they\nrebel against God. Impurity, bestiality, drunkenness, intellectual\npride, all things that lead astray, are for him good; but the law\nof God is one and unchangeable, the same yesterday, to-day, and for\never; and, therefore, though it is hard to kick against the goad, the\nfree-will of man whispers rebellion to him ever, for he finds God\neverywhere.\n\nWhat, then, dealt the death-blow to superstition? Was it scientific\nfaith, or the coming of Christ?\n\nIn order completely to fill a void, you must have something adequate.\nThe world through all the ages had this yearning for a something\nwanting, this searching after a something lost. It felt the\nsupernatural, the beyond\u2014it felt, but did not see. So each one made\nhim a religion of his own. To fill that eternal void, to make all one,\nto satisfy the craving of the world, that void must be filled. But what\ncan fill it, save the supernatural? An infinite want can only be filled\nby infinity. Jesus Christ came in form and with surroundings the very\nreverse of what those who had waited most anxiously for him expected.\nConsequently, their pride revolted, and they refused to accept the\nMessiah. Nevertheless, no sooner was his doctrine made known, than\nthe world outside, the gropers in the darkness, felt the Sun; the\nscales dropped from their eyes, the void was at length filled, the\ncraving satisfied; they saw their God, and knew him. Then superstition\nended, for they found a reason for every mystery in the all-powerful,\nall-pervading God.\n\nHad the world to wait for scientific faith to clear up its doubts and\ngive a reason for its longings and beliefs, superstition would still\nreign paramount among men. What is scientific faith? What can it do?\nThat science has advanced since the days when men built the pyramids,\nconstructed cities whose ruins are the wonders of to-day, converted\nthe Eastern deserts into gardens, constructed the alphabet, built the\nParthenon, devised the geometrical figure, organized the sciences\nof numbers, philosophy, the heavens, and set up leaning towers, we\nconcede; but the men who performed those wonders can scarcely be set\ndown as \u201cknowing nothing of the laws of nature, nothing about physical\nforces, nothing about the relations of cause and effect.\u201d This age\nhas made an advance on them, it is true; but an advance utterly\ndisproportionate to the centuries which have rolled between; nay, in\nsome things it has retrograded.\n\nDid people wait, then, for scientific faith to lift the veil from their\neyes, or was it the teachings of Christianity and the appearance of\nJesus Christ which lifted it? How much more has scientific faith taught\nus than it taught the men who centuries ago, by their intimate and\naccurate knowledge of natural causes, wrought those wonders touched\nupon above? The supernatural still confronts us as it did them. Science\nends with the scientist. Can it tell him who he is, or why he is? Can\nit touch the lightning, weigh the sun, reveal the mystery of life and\ndeath? It can tell us we live and we die; that, when such or such a\ncircumstance occurs, what we call life is over. But can it tell us what\nis life, whence it came, whither it goes? what the world is, who made\nit, why it was made? what the seed is, why it grows up into a tree,\nwhy the leaves sprout from the hard wood, who set all this principle\nof life going, and why? Here lies the mystery that puzzled men; here\nscience stops, and God reveals himself: it is awed into silence, and\nlistens for his voice.\n\nOn reading this article once more, the thought has occurred to\nthe writer that objection may be taken to its tone as not exactly\nin accordance with that myth of myths which goes by the name of\n\u201camenities of literature.\u201d Catholics very rarely come across this\npleasing illusion in the columns of adverse writers. But even should\nthis charge be well grounded, it is idle for Catholics to wrap what\nthey have to say in wadding, lest it fall too roughly on the delicate\nsensibilities of people who undertake to insult a religion of which\nthey know nothing. Mr. Fiske is only a type of a class to whom is\nentrusted the sacred mission of educating the youth of this country,\nthose particularly whose means admit of the highest education, and from\nwhom, therefore, much should be expected. Men wonder at the immorality\nof our youth\u2014the young man of society of to-day. Why wonder, when his\nprofessors teach him that morality is a name, Christianity a fable, and\nall religion a sham? We cannot affect to toy when the stakes played for\nare so high. The morality of the coming race depends on the education\nit receives. When, therefore, we find men, set in high places in our\nforemost universities, abusing their position, and striving by every\nmeans in their power to sap and undermine Christian education, we\nthink studious phrases idle and polished courtesy thrown away. Insult\nand evil must be met with other weapons. If Mr. Fiske wishes to know\nwhether Christianity is a myth or not, let him sit down and study\nbefore pronouncing. When he has sought and inquired earnestly, he will\nfind plenty to furnish him with the right answer.\n\n\nHEAVEN.\n\nWHAT man that is journeying abroad, doth not hasten backward to his\nnative land? Who that is speeding a voyage toward them he loves, longs\nnot with more ardor for a prosperous wind, that so he may embrace his\nfriends the sooner?... It is a large and loving company who expect us\nthere: parents, brothers, children, a manifold and numerous assemblage\nlonging after us, who, having security of their own immortality,\nstill feel anxious for our salvation.... Ah! perfect and perpetual\nbliss! There is the glorious company of the apostles; there is the\nassembly of prophets exulting; there is the innumerable multitude of\nmartyrs, crowned after their victory of strife and passion; there are\nvirgins triumphant, who have overcome, by vigor of continency, the\nconcupiscence of the flesh and body.... To these, dearest brethren, let\nus with eager longings hasten: let it be the portion which we desire,\nspeedily to be among them, speedily to be gone to Christ. God behold\nthis thought of ours! This purpose of our mind and faith may the Lord\nChrist witness!\u2014who will make the recompenses of his glory the larger\naccording as man\u2019s longings after him have been the stronger.\u2014_S.\nCyprian._\n\n\nDIES IR\u00c6.\n\n  Day of Doom! O day of terror!\n  Prophet\u2019s word, and Sibyl\u2019s finger\n  Point to one dread day of anger,\n\n  When the skies shall warp and wither,\n  Ocean shrink and dry together,\n  Solid earth consume to cinder.\n\n  Day of nature\u2019s dissolution,\n  Day of final retribution\u2014\n  Some to joy, and some to sorrow.\n\n  Hark! the trumpet-blast terrific.\n  How the dead, in mingled panic,\n  Gather to the dread assizes!\n\n  Death shall stand aghast, and Nature,\n  When from dust the summoned creature\n  Rises trembling to make answer.\n\n  Ah, the wonder! oh, the wailing!\n  When the heavens above unveiling,\n  Show the Judge of all descending.\n\n  Now begins the awful session.\n  Sinner, make thy full confession;\n  Naught avails the least evasion.\n\n  Lo, the Book of Doom! each action,\n  Secret sin, or bold transgression,\n  Idle word, foul thought, is noted.\n\n  Strictest justice is accorded;\n  Grace to gracious deed afforded,\n  Death to deadly sin awarded.\n\n  Oh! where saints must fear and tremble,\n  Could I stand the test, thus sinful?\n  Could I find a plea for pardon?\n\n  Could an advocate avail me?\n  Pleas and advocates all fail me.\n  Jesus! thou alone canst save me.\n\n  Mighty Monarch! oh, remember\n  That blest day of blest December\u2014\n  \u2018Twas for me the Virgin bore thee.\n\n  Seeking me, beside the fountain\n  Thou didst rest thee; to the mountain,\n  For my sake, thou didst betake thee;\n\n  On that dear cross, to redeem me,\n  Thou didst hang. Lord! is it seemly,\n  So much costing, I should perish?\n\n  Thou didst smile on Mary\u2019s unction,\n  Tearful love, and deep compunction,\n  On the dying thief\u2019s confession.\n\n  Like them guilty, like them grieving,\n  Like them loving, and believing,\n  Lord! show me a like compassion.\n\n  To thy mercy I confide me;\n  From thy justice, Saviour, hide me,\n  Ere that day of dread accounting.\n\n  Oh, that day of strange uprising!\n  Oh, that solemn criticising!\n  Oh, that sentence past reversal!\n\n  Peace to thee! departed brother,\n  Tenant once of this cold clay!\n  Jesus! give him rest alway. Amen.\n\n  C. W.\n\n\n\n\nWOMAN AS A BREAD-WINNER.\n\nIN all things that are not of precept, we must needs, if we wish to\ninfluence the world, take the world as it is. We may deplore that the\nstream has passed the romantic scenery through which its course once\nflowed, but we are powerless to turn the current back. Indeed, its\noncoming strength is so ominous that no wise man can stand long on its\nbanks without seeing the urgent need of providing fresh outlets for\nits impetuosity, lest it should come upon him unawares, and sweep him\naway in a roaring inundation. The mental ferment of our age is this\nstream which demands of us new channels whereon to spend its exuberant\nactivity; and it perhaps depends upon Catholic action whether the new\ndevelopment shall be a blessing or a curse. The church knows that her\nplace is in the van of humanity, and to each young century she turns\nher speedy encouragement, bidding it go forth and do its allotted\nwork under her banner. She hallows all discoveries, and knits them to\nherself by the services she causes them to render to the truth, and, a\nbolder innovator than the veriest sceptic, she opens her arms to every\ndevelopment whose capabilities may be turned to a divine account. We\nmay depend upon this: that no new thing or idea which does not at once\ndraw upon itself the church\u2019s approving notice, is worth more than a\npassing thought. She lets the ephemeral go by, and fixes her eyes only\non the stable and the solid. More than that, all that is claimed as new\nand good is contained or foreshadowed somewhere within her pale, either\nin the hidden achievements of her sons, or in the written record of her\nattitude towards human progress.\n\nNow, the position of woman is a topic universally discussed, and one\nwhich it has become the fashion to look upon as the pet offspring\nof this particular century. There are two questions involved in the\ndiscussion: one theoretical, upon which we have already touched, and\none practical. The former treats of the abstract right of equality\nbetween man and woman, the latter (more sensibly) of the employment of\nwomen, and of their fitness for bread-winning purposes. Woman has so\nmany spheres that it is difficult to mass her duties and rights in one\nsweeping code; and, though her peculiar gift of home ministry is the\none which renders her most amiable in the eyes of the opposite sex,\nit should be remembered that it is this very domesticity which often\nobliges her to take to self-supporting labor. In this, how far superior\nis womanhood to manhood! For whereas a man\u2019s chief thought when\nentering a profession or learning a trade is for his own advancement\nand pecuniary success in life, a woman\u2019s intention when working for her\nbread is almost invariably the support of one weaker than herself, or\nthe lightening of the burden already borne by the other. In this sense,\nwe may say that woman is more heroic than man, constrained as she is by\nthe very nobility of her nature to ennoble the lowest things with which\nnecessity brings her in contact. Work in itself, simply as occupation\nand discipline, is a noble thing and the fulfilment of the divine\nlaw, but when undertaken with a motive such as the support of aged\nparents and of sick children, or the reparation of an act of dishonesty\ncommitted by a dishonorable member of the family, it rises even to\nsublimity. Women are not exempt from the law of labor, though it has\nbeen an immemorial custom that their fathers, brothers, and husbands\nshould shield them from its heaviest penalties. Work, in a mitigated\nsense, has always been the lot of woman, but among Christians it is so\nhallowed as to be rather a privilege than a yoke. In heathen nations,\nwoman\u2019s work was merely that of a female animal, necessarily not quite\nso hard as man\u2019s, but only lighter in consideration of her physical\npowers, and certainly not in reverence for her rightful dignity. It\nwas not the wife and mother who was thought of then: it was the female\nbeast of burden, at most the favorite of the hour. Judaism, the dawn of\na broader and holier dispensation, naturally betrayed its divine origin\nby protecting the person and property and regulating the labor of\nwoman, thereby elevating drudgery into home duties, and raising to the\ndignity of a contracting party one who had been hitherto but a servile\ntool. Christianity went a step further, and threw open the doors of the\ntemple to woman, suffering her to assume every position her mental or\nmoral ambition led her to desire, save the office of the priesthood.\nJudaism had sanctified and glorified marriage by looking upon every\nunion as a possible link in the future genealogy of the Messiah; and\nthe perfection of the Hebrew ideal culminated in Mary, the veritable\nhuman mother of the Eternal Word. But Christianity had an additional\ncrown to bestow on womanhood, and, unlike Judaism, instead of leading\nup to this new perfection, it first reared its ideal, and then called\nupon all unborn generations to follow it as closely as might be. Thus\nthe two systems, marriage and virginity, converged for one miraculous\nmoment in the stainless person of the Blessed Virgin Mary; and since\nafter that unique motherhood there could be no aspiring to become an\nearthly ancestor of the Promised One, a new relationship with God\u2014that\nof Spouse\u2014came to be the highest honor attainable by womanhood. Step\nby step, God had brought about woman\u2019s enfranchisement, had united in\nhis law the dignity with which the Jews had invested her, and a new,\nmysterious, unearthly dignity which he alone can understand, and had,\nin one word, made perfection easy of attainment by her. Her work, too,\nnecessarily came under this ennobling process, and she can look back\nwith pride to the example of the typical woman\u2014the last perfect Jewish\nmatron, the first perfect Christian virgin\u2014and see the daughter of\nkings and the Mother of God stooping to lowly household duties.\n\nThe Old and New Testament are full of circumstances or sayings with\nreference to the subject of woman\u2019s work. Although it is not expressly\nmentioned in the curse pronounced on Adam after the Fall, there can\nbe little doubt that it is included in it. The race of man was there\ndoomed to earn its bread by the sweat of its brow, and though a special\npunishment was also awarded the offending \u201cmother of all the living,\u201d\nstill she seems to have been included in the general curse of labor.\nEvents have proved this, and so long and regular a succession of events\nmust needs have had a deeper reason than mere temporal expediency.\nIn the history of Jacob and his two wives, we see a plain reference\nto the importance of woman in a question of wages and inheritance.\nJacob, after serving his father-in-law Laban for twenty years,\ndeparts secretly, but before doing so takes counsel with his wives,\nand puts his case before them, calling them to witness that Laban\nhas overreached him and striven to do him harm. Their answer is as\npractical as could be wished for: they complain of their father having\nwasted their lawful inheritance and having counted them as strangers,\nwhile they commend Jacob for championing their rights by taking, as the\nLord had commanded, all that was otherwise denied them.\n\nIn the history of the infant Moses, Pharaoh\u2019s daughter makes a regular\nengagement with the child\u2019s unknown mother \u201cto nurse him for her, and\nshe would give her _her wages_.\u201d It was a fair contract, by which the\nHebrew woman earned an equivalent for her services as nurse.\n\nThen, again, we have Anna, the wife of Tobias, a genuine bread-winner,\nthough perhaps a lesser example of patience than she is of energy.\n\u201cNow, Anna his wife went daily to weaving work, and she brought home\nwhat she could get for their living by the labor of her hands.\u201d[71]\nThe picture of her domestic trials is pathetic, and her husband seems\nto have had but a poor opinion of her discretion, for he asked her one\nday, when she had brought home a young kid, whether she were sure that\nit was not stolen? Her answer was certainly petulant, and consisted of\nwhat many modern wives would say under the same provocation, but it was\nungrateful towards God. Human nature was much the same then as it is\nnow; and one charm of the old Bible narratives lies just in this, that\nthey _are_ so na\u00efvely human. In the Book of Ecclesiasticus we read: \u201cHe\ncreated of him [man] a helpmate like to himself: he gave _them_ counsel\nand a tongue, and eyes, and ears, and a heart to devise....\u201d[72] The\nwoman is here expressly included in the intellectual benefits heaped\nupon man, and it is contrary to the whole spirit of the Scriptures to\nsuppose that these gifts were in her merely ornamental. Matters of\nforesight, discretion, and business evidently come under the head of\nthings to be \u201cdevised.\u201d Again, a little further on we find that \u201ca\ngood wife is a _good portion_,\u201d and \u201cthe grace of a diligent woman\nshall delight her husband and shall _fat his bones_.\u201d[73] By this is\nmeant \u201cincrease his substance,\u201d which a woman can do in two ways\u2014by\nhusbanding her means, or earning something herself. Even if the\n\u201cdiligent woman\u201d gave her husband nothing but counsel, that in itself\nwould be a material help: \u201cA _prudent_ wife is from the Lord.\u201d[74]\n\nTo guard against the abuses of unremunerated labor, to which through\npoverty or improvidence the Hebrews might be subjected, Moses provided\nthe law of the seventh year of remission and the fiftieth of jubilee.\n\u201cThou shalt not oppress him with the service of bond-servants, but he\nshall be as a _hireling_ and a _sojourner_,\u201d and \u201c_his wages_ being\nallowed for which he served before.\u201d[75] With regard to women, the\nlaws were the same. \u201cWhen thy brother a Hebrew man or Hebrew _woman_\nis sold to thee and hath served thee six years, in the seventh year\nthou shalt let him go free. And when thou sendest him out free, _thou\nshalt not let him go away empty_; but shalt give him for his way out\nof thy flocks, and out of thy barn-floor and thy wine-press,\u201d[76] and\nit is specially recommended that bondmen and bondwomen should not\nbe of the chosen race, but of the \u201cnations around\u201d the Hebrews. As\nto the responsibility of women concerning vows, we read that a woman\nunder the power of her father or husband shall be bound to fulfil a\nvow contingently on the consent of her superior, but an independent\nwoman is bound like a man: \u201cThe widow, and she that is divorced, _shall\nfulfil whatsoever_ they vow.\u201d[77] This argues at least a recognition\nof woman\u2019s full powers of reasoning, choice, and accountability, all\nof which are involved in the serious matter of a vow. In the Gospel\nof S. Luke, there is a passing allusion to female manual labor in the\nparable that foretells Christ\u2019s second coming: \u201c_Two women_ shall be\n_grinding_ together, the one shall be taken and the other left\u201d\u2014which\nallusion is not meaningless. All through the New Testament, additional\nlight is thrown on the figurative expressions by the common customs of\nthe country during our Lord\u2019s human life in Judea, and so we may infer\nthat in those days women frequently helped their husbands in various\nagricultural pursuits.\n\nMartha, the sister of Lazarus, has always been looked upon as a\ntype of active, busy life, according to our Lord\u2019s words, \u201cThou\nart troubled about many things.\u201d But this was not wholly meant as\na rebuke, for there is a great difference between being _troubled_\nand being _absorbed_ by worldly matters. Some among us must bear the\ndomestic burden, in order that others may have the leisure needed for\ncontemplation. Their place in the world is none the less holy because\nit is not the most perfect, for if there were no rungs to the ladder\nbut the topmost one, how would it be possible to reach heaven? The\nworkers of this world have a mission as well as the seers, and Martha\nholds almost as high a place in heaven as her sister who chose \u201cthe\nbetter part.\u201d In the Acts of the Apostles, it is related that S.\nPaul, going out of the gates of Philippi and seeing there some women\nassembled, spoke to them, whereupon \u201ca certain woman named Lydia, _a\nseller of purple_ of the city of Thyatira ... did hear ... and when\nshe was baptized, _and her household_, she besought us, saying: ...\ncome into my _house_ and abide there. And she constrained us.\u201d[78]\nThis woman must doubtless have been sufficiently well-off, and was\nmost likely a widow or an unmarried woman. Her business, which she\nprobably conducted herself, since she is distinguished by the epithet\n\u201ca seller of purple,\u201d must have brought her affluence, for her house\nand household are specially mentioned, and it strikes us also as a\nproof of her self-supporting and successful operations, that, being of\nthe city of Thyatira, she had travelled to Philippi and established a\nhome for herself within its walls. S. Paul and Silas are put in prison\nand freed again while in Philippi, and as soon as they leave their\nconfinement, it is to Lydia\u2019s house that they again repair. \u201cAnd they\nwent out of the prison, and entered into the house of Lydia; and having\nseen the brethren, they comforted them and departed.\u201d[79] The natural\ninference is that the house of the generous \u201cseller of purple\u201d was the\ncentre, for the time being, of the little Christian community; that\nhere were the assemblies held and religious ceremonies performed; and\nthat Lydia, in fact, gave up her dwelling to be practically a school\nand church. Her riches were her own; legitimately accumulated by an\nordinary trade. We are told nothing of her origin, her education, her\nsocial position; she appears only as a \u201cseller of purple\u201d and a docile\nrecipient of God\u2019s Word. There was probably nothing at all wonderful\nabout her\u2014she was the ordinary business woman of her day: thrifty,\nsince she had worked to so successful a purpose\u2014simple-minded,\nsince she so quickly believed the Word of God\u2014generous, since she\n\u201cconstrained\u201d the Apostles to dwell with her. S. Paul, who found in\nwomen such powerful auxiliaries, speaks in his Epistle to the Romans\nof \u201cPh\u0153be, our sister in the ministry of the church [a deaconess] ...\nthat you assist her in whatsoever _business_ she shall have need of\nyou: for she also _hath assisted many_.\u201d[80] Now, this clearly points\nto her having, or having had, either great possessions, which must have\nentailed many cares of management, or great zeal in stirring up others\nwho were wealthier, which zeal also proves a capability for affairs.\nBut let us turn back to yet more emphatic Scriptural proof that woman\nis noways debarred from a certain share in even great enterprises,\nso long as her modesty is not endangered by it. Judith, the queenly\nwidow, occupied a position of this kind. \u201cAnd her husband left her\ngreat riches, and very many servants, and large possessions of herds\nand oxen.\u201d[81] The sequel of Judith\u2019s history showed that she was as\nwise as she was rich, and that prudence and discretion were her most\nconspicuous gifts. She must have had great powers of government, and\nan eye for ruling the many subordinates whom she probably employed\nin the management of her possessions. She was no doubt a mother and\na guardian to her servants, and, although young and beautiful, as\nthe Scripture tells us she was, yet possessed a gravity and dignity\nbeyond her years. Her mind was not set upon the frivolities of social\nlife, and she gave herself much to prayer and fasting, abiding \u201cshut\nup with her maids\u201d in an upper chamber of her house. It is a great\nmistake to suppose that piety interferes with business habits in either\nman or woman. The legitimate cares of life are perfectly compatible\nwith an unusual degree of spirituality, indeed, in many cases such\ncares become absolute duties. The spiritual life reacts upon the\nouter sphere of business relations, and while eliminating from it all\ntendency to mere selfish aggrandizement, enhances and hallows the\nworldly qualities requisite to its successful development. The world\nneeds holy and grave influences to leaven its pursuits in every field,\nwhether artistic, literary, or commercial, and while women can impart\nto every lawful calling into which they enter that natural grace and\nrefinement which is their birthright, they should also strive to infuse\ninto it a supernatural influence. In the Book of Proverbs,[82] we read\nthe memorable description of the \u201cwise woman,\u201d and nothing is further\nremoved than this Scripture ideal from the various types of modern\nwomanhood which, in the clamor of the present questions as to woman\u2019s\nplace and proper employment, have terrified the sight and darkened\nthe understanding of observers. Of her devotion to her husband, it is\nsaid that \u201chis heart trusteth in her, _and he shall have no need of\nspoils_.\u201d She is not of that aggressive, self-protecting type with\nwhich we are (for our sins) familiar; she is not of those to whom a\nhusband is an appendage, insignificant at all times, removable at\nany; she is not of the independent sisterhood who take their passions\nfor inspirations and their caprices for rules. Her influence must\nmightily serve her husband\u2019s lawful interests, for we are told that \u201che\nis honorable in the gates when he sitteth among the senators of the\nland.\u201d This points to the wise woman\u2019s high social position, no doubt\nmore due to her efforts, her industry, and her prudence, than simply\nto her noble birth. She might\u2014like many of her modern sisters\u2014have\nbeen born in the more fortunate walks of life, she might have been\neducated with care and assiduity, she might have been taught that\nperfect command of domestic details which secures an orderly and\nattractive household, she might even have acquired that unconscious\ngood-breeding that marks the well-born and gently nurtured all over\nthe civilized world; and yet with all these advantages she might still\nhave failed to take a place in life\u2014she might still have remained a\nsocial nonentity. How many such worthy and estimable blanks are there\nnot in this world, in all ranks and shades of social standing! But the\nmodel woman of the Scripture has risen above this level of neglected\nor barren opportunities, and bears away the first honors of the race\nof life, simply because she is _wise_. The prudence of her counsels,\nshown in the ordering of her well-appointed household, her bargains and\nher forethought, her stores of bread, linen, and wool, redound to her\nhusband\u2019s honor; and when he \u201csitteth among the senators\u201d he is known\nas possessing a treasure that doubles all his wealth, and is herself\nworth all his riches thrice doubled. But she is not entirely dependent\non him in her transactions, for we see that \u201cshe hath considered a\nfield and bought it; with the fruit of her hands she hath planted a\nvineyard.\u201d This bears very closely on our subject, and proves how\nfar the Scriptures hold a woman competent to think, speculate, work,\nand achieve, unassisted by man. \u201cShe hath tasted and seen that her\ntraffic is good: ... she made fine linen and sold it, ... and hath\nnot eaten her bread idle.\u201d Now, all this points to more than mere\ndomestic thrift. Here we see woman, not as a divorced wife, not as an\naggressive spinster, not as a frivolous social ornament, not as a mere\nhousehold drudge, but woman as a responsible being, with grave duties\nand a wide field of action, taking a place in the world fully equal to\nand yet utterly distinct from that of a man. She considers, she buys,\nshe sells, she rules, yet all the while she is solicitous for her\n\u201cmaidens,\u201d charitable and gentle to the poor, beloved by her husband,\nand blessed by her children. She appears here as judged by the real\nstandard of her real worth. \u201cFavor is deceitful, and beauty is vain;\nthe woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the\nfruit of her hands; and let her works praise her in the gates.\u201d\n\nSo that she is not only to earn, but to enjoy. She is to have a stake\nin the world, and a voice in matters of importance\u2014she \u201copens her\nmouth in wisdom, and the law of clemency is on her tongue.\u201d Her opinion\nis to be sought, considered, followed; her example is to be looked upon\nwith reverence, and criticism is to merge into admiration. Her position\nis to be that of an arbiter and referee, neither sinking to that of\na petted child nor drifting into that of an unmated, unloved, and\ndefiant waif. It is not from a band of social outlaws, whose common\nexile links them in common defence, that she is to seek support; but\nin the circle of her own home, in the centre where God and nature have\nplaced her, she is to take the helm and gracefully mount the throne. No\nviolence and no straining after impossible immunities are to disfigure\nher calm attitude of secure headship, and, even if her advice be\ndisregarded, time and not she herself must vindicate its wisdom.\n\nIt may be objected that all this is very well in theory, and would work\nadmirably if all women were _wise_, and all men worthy of them. But\nwho does not know that ideals will never become healthful influences\nunless translated into facts, and that theories will never succeed in\nbettering the world unless exemplified here and there in trial cases?\nWould the _theory_ of Christianity be worth anything to the outside\nworld unless realized in the daily life of its Founder and in the model\nexistences of thousands of saints? It is impossible that anything\nshould take hold of the human mind and mould it to new perfections\nbefore it has been put into tangible shape, and it is equally\nimpossible in our fallen state that _all_ the world should be converted\nat once into so many perfect entities. Yet because all men will not\nbecome saints, because all cannot write like Shakespeare, paint like\nRaphael, or compose like Beethoven, are religion, poetry, and art to\nbe eschewed by lower aspirants, and relegated to the barren region of\nthings to be admired but not imitated? If, because absolute perfection\nwas never attainable by man, every man had therefore resigned himself\nto a hopeless contemplation of the fine possibilities of Christianity,\nwe should have had no Anthony, no Jerome, no Augustine. If, later on,\nbecause it was impossible to reform the _whole_ world and strike at\nthe root of _every_ abuse, the pontiffs had calmly looked on while\nChristendom crumbled away, we should have had no Gregory the Great,\nno Hildebrand, no Innocent III., no Sixtus V. Again, if an inflexible\nadherence to rule were the only point worth aiming at, should we have\nhad a Dominic, a Teresa, a Francis Xavier, a Philip Neri, a Vincent\nof Paul? In this world there are many experiments\u2014tentative steps\nleading to higher things, and opening doors of possibility to hitherto\nuntried systems. Even in the church, where all else is immovable,\nthere is constant _human_ progress, and if here or there one soldier\nfalls at his post\u2014not through lack of enthusiasm, but through the\nforce of adverse circumstances, or the darkness of mind which still\nshrouds his contemporaries while he himself has prematurely pierced\nbeyond it\u2014still the great search after perfection, the great work of\nChristian development, rolls on. So it is in the world, in art, in\nphilosophy, in science, in society. What if woman\u2019s position never\nhas been made absolutely and securely certain? The church has always\ntheoretically pointed it out, and has often secured its partial\nrealization within her pale; it remains for the world to open its eyes,\nand extend those barriers of the church to the furthest limits of\ncivilization, taking with it those improvements which it has so long\ngroped for in its wilful darkness, and which all the time have been\nsteadily in operation in the sanctuary of the old church.\n\nSo that it is idle to object that all we have said about woman\u2019s work,\nreward, and position is \u201cvery well in theory.\u201d If a few pioneers will\ndo for the system what companies or even enterprising individuals\nare ever ready to do for any material scheme that presents but the\nslightest chance of success, the world would soon see the noblest\nreform of all achieved in the very core of society. Nay, we will say\nmore: the pioneers _are_ there, the reform _is_ going on; only let the\nbusy, sceptical world stop a moment and look into the silent, gigantic\nwork ever renewing its strength in the church; let it pause and see\nhomes where woman, either as manager or worker, holds her supreme\nrod of gentle authority; let it see the maiden toiling cheerfully\nfor her aged parents, or bringing home food and clothes to helpless\nlittle sisters or ailing brothers\u2014the wife helping and encouraging\nthe husband, and eking out by skilful management a pittance into an\nincome, and evolving comfort out of what in careless hands could hardly\ncompass necessaries; the widow keeping her sacred state, unassailed by\ncalumny, through the earnings which secure her privacy, or the widowed\nmother joyfully burdened with the twofold legacy that gives her both\nan object to live for and a memory to live in. Hidden homes these may\nbe, poor homes they almost all are\u2014homes bounded by the four walls of\none squalid room, homes cramped in the garrets of tenement-houses or\nsaddened by the dreary respectability of furnished lodgings, but none\nthe less precious in the sight of the angels, and an example in the\nsight of men.\n\nWe have spoken much of the Scriptural conception of woman as a\nbread-winner, because upon this as a solid foundation we can build up\nthe further development of such a woman\u2019s position. Everything that is\ncompatible with the _spirit_ of this conception may be said, in broad\ncomprehensiveness, to be allowable in woman. Everything that can be\nreferred to this ideal, as naturally flowing therefrom, is admissible\nin her relations with the great working hive of mankind. Intellectual\nlabor especially is befitting to her, within the limits prescribed\nby modesty. Manual labor, especially agricultural or mining, is\nproportionately less fitting, both because of her physical weakness and\nmore still because of the too free association with men which it often\nnecessitates. Domestic labor, where this is not unreasonably heavy, is\ncertainly within her sphere\u2014and for this no better reason can be given\nthan that the women of patriarchal times thought domestic labor no\nshame.\n\nWith this view, we say that as many openings for the employment of\nwoman as can possibly be made, consistently with delicacy and womanly\nmodesty, should be speedily contrived. No one need fear that such\nopenings will deprive us of necessary comforts in the way of domestic\nattendance; there will always be a residuum of womankind to whom\nservice will be the most natural and desirable outlet, to whom in fact\nit will be the only career which will give scope to the capacities\nthey have. This will be the least difficulty; the real problem will\nalways remain rather on the other side\u2014that is, as to how many\nwomen can be redeemed from the bondage of circumstances by any known\nmethod of redemption. It is appalling to think of the many women,\ndelicate-minded, earnest, persevering, who see in their womanhood,\nwhich should be their crown and their boast, only the barrier to their\naspirations, the prison-door of their capabilities. It is terrible\nto reckon the number of women who lose themselves, and wander away\nfrom their place in society, either through the door of open shame\nor through the only less revolting path of that which is called but\nis not marriage; or visionary, defiant \u201cindependence.\u201d How many\nfallen women sadly excuse themselves by saying that they could find\nno work to do, and yet could not bear to starve! On the other hand,\nin women who have obviated that degradation by leaping into another,\nwe see the inevitable action of the narrow-mindedness of the world\nupon an undisciplined nature. Women are often accused of being always\nin extremes, and the accusation, in the case of women untrained by\nreligious influences, is in the main true, although it may as well be\nsaid that the fact holds equally good with men who are not restrained\nby such influences. So, between open degradation and blatant \u201cwoman\u2019s\nrightism,\u201d the mind of the untutored woman will almost certainly,\nexcept by a happy chance, find no mean.\n\nIs this picture overdrawn? We are ready to affirm again and again\nthat it is not; the annals of society scandals and the records of the\ndivorce courts show that it is not; for what difference is there but a\ndespicable and conventional one between the legalized re-marriage of a\nguilty woman to her seducer, and the illegal union of so many unhappy\ncouples whose relations it is a breach of propriety even to mention?\n\nThis is womanhood outside the church. It is no more a fancy picture\nthan that other blessed one of the homes we have already praised, the\nhomes of honest work and perfect peace. The world, to secure a nation\nof women bred in such homes, must turn to the church, and ask her to\nteach it the secret of such womanhood. The secret is in the Gospels,\nin the old hallowed traditions of the Hebrews, and in the fulfilled\nevangelical counsels. Voluntary poverty is the safeguard of holy and\nallowable wealth; voluntary obedience is the counterpart of lawful\nfreedom; voluntary chastity is the hidden grace that obtains for others\nwedded love and a grave Christian home. The hostages of humanity are\npraying in the cloisters for the commendable domestic happiness of\ntheir numerous brethren, and, in proportion as the world scorns their\nsacrifice, so does it lose the fruit of their prayers.\n\nWe have said that woman\u2019s work should be decided, God willing, by her\ncapabilities. This is to say that more ways should be open to her\nthan are open now to improve the talents God may have given her. In a\ngreat measure she can, and does, open these ways for herself, and an\nenergetic nature of course will, like water, sooner or later \u201cfind its\nown level.\u201d Still, many who have mental powers have little strength\nin battling with life, and might be helped if their luckier sisters\nwould be a little less selfish in their easily acquired security.\nWork means self-respect, and self-respect means success. There is no\none so proud as the woman who knows her own worth, and lifts herself\nby this knowledge high above all sordid temptations. She will be\na good wife, for she will choose no man for a husband save on the\nlofty principle of his own worthiness of her, while her estimate of\nherself will unconsciously become his also. She will be a tribunal to\nherself and to him, and the slightest wrong action or paltry motive\nin either will take, in the eyes of the other, the proportions of a\nblot on their self-esteem. She will be a good mother, for her standard\nof superiority will be the first her children will know, and with\nthem it will be inseparably blent with their personal affection for\ntheir mother. The home will thus be created on a footing that years\nwill strengthen as they pass, and the austere yet happy gravity of\na Christian household will become a hereditary tradition with the\nchildren. But for all this, the basis of work is wanted\u2014work of some\nsort, voluntary occupation or necessary drudgery, it matters little.\nIt is the discipline, not the fact, of work which is essential, and in\nthis sense the rich and high-born may be as hard workers as the poor\nseamstress or the factory-girl. Yet, since this labor question touches\nthe poor chiefly, it is for them we would chiefly speak. Woman\u2019s work\nis circumscribed by her physical powers, man\u2019s is not. Therefore, in\nall things that a woman can do as well as a man (and of course in all\nthose which she can do better), the preference should be given to her.\nThere are many trades in which men cut not only a very useless but a\nmost ridiculous figure, and which the fittingness of things would point\nout as woman\u2019s proper field. Everything relating to feminine clothing\ncomes under this head; and were this department wholly given over to\nwomen, it would at once relieve the poverty and shield the virtue of\nmany homes, and also spare the public the absurd spectacle of strong\nmen engaged in handling delicate ribbons and filmy laces. Printing\nand kindred trades have been found practicable for women, and we know\nthat watchmaking and jewellery work are also accessible to the \u201cweaker\nvessel.\u201d Still, it has at present gone no further than this, that\nwomen are associated with men in many employments. Now, we could wish\nthat there should be many trades of which they would have an exclusive\nmonopoly. In this we think there would be no inconvenience; at any\nrate, no one could assert that there was until the system had been\ngiven a fair trial.\n\nSociety, in its present state of godless disorganization, not only\naffords very little help to women who are eager and willing to help\nthemselves, but positively, despite the loud boasting of the century\nas having originated \u201cwoman-reform,\u201d places barriers in their way.\nFor what else is it but a barrier to honest advancement that, when a\nrespectable and virtuous woman of pleasing appearance goes to apply for\nsome desirable situation offered by advertisement, she is often, very\noften, insulted by disgusting propositions, and her very expressions\nof indignant surprise put down as a part skilfully played by her\nbefore the inevitable surrender? This has been repeatedly done, in\nmany cases successfully, for precautions had been taken beforehand\nto cut off the victim\u2019s retreat and drown her cries; in others, when\ncowardice, the twin-sister of vice, has shrunk from the determined\nattitude of a virtuous woman at bay, the effort has happily failed.\nThe public papers have sometimes\u2014with their proverbial inefficiency\nand spasmodic, theatrical manner of showing up an abuse they know it\nwill pay better to speak of than to act against\u2014taken in hand this\noutrage to civilization, and published letters from the aggrieved women\ndetailing the attempted insult, but how many more women, sensitive and\ngentle, shrink with horror from putting into print an experience they\nwould gladly blot from their memory! It will be asked, what remedy can\nbe devised for this? Immediate remedy, perhaps none; but remotely,\nthe remedy of a newly formed habit of regarding women with at least\nthe same respect as men who earn their daily bread. Physical weakness\nwill always be an incentive to wicked men to insult unprotected\nwomen\u2014that is to say, the vices of fallen human nature will never be\nwholly blotted out; and in this juncture, as in all others, the real\nremedy is the influence and authority of the church. Nowhere more than\nin Italy\u2014that maligned country in which Protestants refuse to see\nanything save the last stage of corruption brought on by an \u201ceffete\npriesthood and a degraded religion\u201d\u2014is that touching charity known of\nportioning poor girls and affording them temporary refuge while out of\nemployment. In Rome, this was one of the foremost Papal charities; the\nHoly Father took an especial personal interest in it; the Roman ladies\nvied with each other in enlarging the numbers of its recipients and\nadding to the fund provided for its continuance. In Venice, it used\nto be the affair of the Doge, who was conventionally father to all\nthe dowerless, and the sworn protector of impoverished and threatened\ninnocence. Many saints have made this their favorite charity, and many\nItalian marriages in the higher grades of life are accompanied by\nthis crowning token of Christian brotherhood\u2014the portioning and safe\nmarrying of a poor young girl who might have otherwise fallen a victim\nto the licentiousness of some professional _rou\u00e9_.\n\nWhile it is to be deplored that the openings for female employment\nshould still be so restricted, it is still more to be lamented\nthat there are actually employments in which female labor is most\nunwarrantably used. In mining districts, this is peculiarly the case.\nThere men and women work promiscuously, often with very little clothing\non, and with still less sense of decency and morality. Little girls are\nbrought up there with no knowledge of themselves as responsible moral\nagents, and conscious only that their work is not quite so valuable\nbecause their muscles are not quite so strong as those of their\ncompanions. Ignorance of religion, of moral restraints, and of social\ndecencies, combine to make of these immortal beings only lithe savages,\nless enduring than the negro, less clever than the Indian. For the\nwhite race in some sense seems born to civilization, and when removed\nfrom civilizing influences relapses into far more brutal savageness\nthan others. Again, we find the problem only solvable through the\ninfluence of the church; for she who originally drew together the\nnomad hordes of the North and East, and gathered from their ranks\nthe founders of empires, the lawgivers of her own system, and the\ndiscoverers of the New World, is still the only mistress the dominant\nrace which she once civilized will ever again acknowledge. Christendom\nhas been rent in twain, and the Christian nations deprived of the bond\nthat once knit them in one vast confederation and unity of interests;\nand until this whole has been restored, barbarism will struggle\nperiodically to the surface, and strive to regain that ascendency it\nlost more than a thousand years ago. The abuses and horrors of female\nlabor in mining districts are a blot upon civilization which never\nhad any existence before the recent disruption of Christendom; for,\nwherever an abuse reared its serpent head, the church was at least\nthere to protest, and exert her moral influence if not material force.\nIt is idle to object that she did not, as a matter of fact, quell all\nabuses; this objection might be urged against the apparently frustrated\nmission of our Lord himself, as far as immediate tangible reforms\nwere concerned, but the essential fact stands, that as long as the\nchurch\u2019s authority remained undisputed there was at least in the world\none tribunal which, being the acknowledged visible representative of\nGod, could brand beyond appeal all encroachments on the rights of the\ndefenceless, and wither the plans of cunning and cruelty against the\npoor. To those defended, this was a consolation; to those upbraided, it\nwas at least a secret dread.\n\nHaving said so much upon the question of woman\u2019s position as a\nbread-winner, we can only end by acknowledging that whatever is to\nbe done will have to be done in fragments, and under the auspices\nof private enterprise alone. We cannot expect that in the present\ncondition of the world any but individual efforts will be made for the\nadvancement of the weaker sex, nor can we anticipate any but partial\nand isolated results. But, nevertheless, these efforts will not lack\ntheir reward, and we, who in the eyes of the world are now working in\nthe dark, can be content with the knowledge that from these disjointed\nearthly efforts God is silently building up a great spiritual temple\nof rescued souls. It may be that we never shall succeed but in part,\nbut this is the fate of all workers at a perfect system, and need not\ndismay us in the least. Theologians say that if the merits of our\nLord\u2019s Incarnation and Passion had redeemed but the single soul of his\nBlessed Mother, still such unheard-of merits would not therefore have\nbeen in the least superfluously applied; and in the same way may we\nhumbly think of ourselves, that if each life spent in the effort of\nbettering the condition and widening the intellectual horizon of woman\nhad no result save in the increased welfare of one individual, still\nthe labor of such a life would not have been in vain.\n\n\n\n\n\u201cABRAHAM\u201d\u2014\u201cABRON\u201d\u2014\u201cAUBURN.\u201d\n\nA SHAKESPEARIAN EXCURSUS.\n\n_Merc._\u2014\u201cYoung Abraham Cupid, he that shot so trim.\u201d\u2014_Romeo and\nJuliet_, act ii. sc. I.[83]\n\nCERTAINLY, this very singular prefix to the ordinary appellation of\nthe god of love suggests difficulties of interpretation not easy of\nsolution. It would appear to be one of those cant phrases familiar\nenough, we may presume, at a certain period, for, if not readily to\nbe understood, the poet was unlikely to make use of it in such a\nconnection. But the reason for its application has passed out of mind,\nand all the commentators have been at a loss to discover its meaning.\nMr. Singer, editor of a well-known edition of the poet\u2019s plays,\ndisposes of the embarrassment in a manner equally summary and, as it\nseems to us, unsatisfactory. Accepting the suggestion of Mr. Upton,\nanother commentator, that the word \u201cAbraham\u201d should be \u201cAdam,\u201d these\ncritics agree in conferring upon Cupid a pr\u00e6nomen which it is clear\nneither Shakespeare nor his early editors affixed to the name by which\nhe is usually known. It is equally certain that no other writer has\never employed the term \u201cAdam\u201d in such a way. In this state of the case,\nwe seem still left to seek the meaning of the word \u201cAbraham,\u201d as thus\nused. In order to exhibit the whole merits of the question, let us\nsubjoin the note of Mr. Singer in reference to it, and also that of Mr.\nRichard Grant White, editor of an American edition of Shakespeare. Mr.\nSinger remarks:\n\n\u201cAll the old copies read _Abraham_ Cupid. The alteration was proposed\nby Mr. Upton. It evidently alludes to the famous archer, Adam Bell. So\nin Decker\u2019s _Satiromastix_: \u2018He shoots his bolt but seldom, but, when\nAdam lets go, he hits.\u2019 \u2018He shoots at thee, too, Adam Bell; and his\narrows stick here.\u2019 The ballad alluded to is \u2018King Cophetua and the\nBeggar Maid,\u2019 or, as it is called in some copies, \u2018The Song of a Beggar\nand a King.\u2019 It may be seen in the first volume of Percy\u2019s _Reliques of\nAncient Poetry_. The following stanza Shakespeare had particularly in\nview:\n\n  \u2018The _blinded_ boy, that _shoots so trim_,\n    From heaven down did hie;\n  He drew a dart, and shot at him,\n    In place where he did lie.\u2019\u201d\n  \u2014_Singer\u2019s Note._\n\nNow, though it cannot be doubted that Shakespeare had in mind _the\nblinded boy that shoots so trim_, as set forth in the ballad referred\nto, nor that the expression \u201cshot so trim\u201d grew out of it, yet this\nfact is far from affording good reason for the belief that he had\nalso Adam Bell in view, or that he had any thought of conferring the\nChristian name of that noted outlaw upon Cupid himself. The presumption\nwould be that however _trim_ a bowman that \u201cbelted forestere\u201d may have\nbeen, yet the skill of Cupid in this respect is too preeminent and\nwell allowed, to admit of any compliment or illustration derived from\nthe name of the very best merely human archer who ever drew cloth-yard\nshaft to ear. Mr. Singer appears to us, therefore, to have been misled\nby a merely superficial analogy into too great confidence in an\nimprovident suggestion, when he ventured to substitute a conjectural\nemendation of the text for a reading which was uniform in \u201call the old\ncopies.\u201d\n\nThe note of Mr. White is as follows:\n\n\u201cUpton gave us the _Adam_ which takes the place of \u2018Abraham\u2019 in all the\ncurrent editions, except Mr. Knight\u2019s. But, as Mr. Dyce says, there is\nnot the slightest authority for the change. The last-named gentleman\nconjectures that \u2018Abraham\u2019 in this line is a corruption of _Auburn_; as\nit is unquestionably in the following passages which he quotes:\n\n  \u2018Where is the oldest sonne of Pryam,\n  That Abraham coloured Troian? Dead.\u2019\n  \u2014_Soliman and Perseda_, 1599, sig. H, 3.\n\n  \u2018A goodlie, long, thicke Abram colored beard.\u2019\n  \u2014_Middleton\u2019s Blurt_, _Master-Constable_, 1602, sig. D.\n\nAnd in _Coriolanus_, act ii. sc. iii.\n\n  \u2018Not that our heads are some browns, some\n  blacke, some Abram,\u2019\n\nas we read in the first three folios.\n\n\u201cThe suggestion is more than plausible; and we at least owe to Mr. Dyce\nthe efficient protection which it must give to the original text. Cupid\nis always represented by the old painters as auburn-haired.\u201d[84]\n\nBut Mr. White, it will be observed, begs the question as to the\npassages quoted from other authors. These passages simply prove that\n\u201cAbraham coloured\u201d and \u201cAbram colored,\u201d as applied to the hair and\nthe beard, were common enough expressions at and before the time of\nShakespeare. Besides, only conceive whether it would be characteristic\nof Shakespeare to write so tamely as \u201cYoung auburn Cupid\u201d!\n\nIn fact, the term in question must have had a pertinent, significant,\nand peculiar meaning, well understood by his contemporaries.\n\nMr. Knight conceives the term _Abraham_ to be thus appropriated from\nthe vagrants and beggars called \u201cAbraham-men,\u201d who were too often\ncheats;[85] and it is to be feared that he thus means us to imply\nthe propriety of the appellation in this instance, upon the ungallant\nhypothesis that Cupid is himself the prince and chief exemplar of\ndeceivers in general. But this specific characteristic we have always\nunderstood to belong to Mercury. For however, popularly, Cupid is\nestimated as a gay deceiver, Mercury was held by the Greeks the god of\nfraud and falsehood. The sailors have a phrase of \u201cshamming Abraham\u201d\nwhen one of the crew shirks his duty on pretence of sickness or for any\nother pretended excuse. No one seems to have thought of the possible\norigin of this proverbial expression, as used in reference to the\nbeggars from whose habits it is evidently derived. It has occurred to\nus that, since Abraham was the father of the faithful, that is, the\nperson most eminent for faith, his name may have been thus taken up, in\na manner savoring more of wit than of reverence, in relation to persons\ndisposed to live rather by _faith_ than by _works_\u2014in fact, who showed\nthe amplitude of their trust in whatever might turn up, oftentimes in\na somewhat questionable shape, by doing no work at all. This would\nmanifestly be a sort of _shamming Abraham_.\n\nBut however this may be, since all the old copies read _Abraham_ Cupid,\nand since the alteration of the text commended by Mr. Singer and others\ncannot be justified upon any grounds which they offer, or in any other\nmode, we must find some means of explaining the phrase as it stands,\nor remain in the dark as to its true interpretation. Certainly the\nmatter is not at all cleared up by unauthorized substitution. Against\nMr. Knight\u2019s theory, on the other hand, militates the plain fact\nthat, in every example cited, unless the one in controversy be taken\nas an exception, the word stands for a certain _color_, and not as\nqualifying any moral characteristic, or implying any personal defect.\nThere is a difficulty, besides, in the _auburn_ hypothesis which it\nmust be admitted is hard to get over. Supposing the word had been found\nwritten as it is, nowhere but in these two passages of Shakespeare,\nit might, perhaps, so pass muster. He might not very unnaturally be\nthought to have put such a corrupt form of the word _auburn_ purposely\ninto the mouth of the worthy citizen in _Coriolanus_; and the term\n_auburn_, in such a connection, but misprinted in the course of time,\nmight possibly be considered not absolutely inconsistent with the\ncharacter of Mercutio and the strain of his speech. But when we find\nthe same word used by two other writers contemporary with Shakespeare,\nboth of whom would be likely to know the correct form and so to write\nit, if \u201cAbraham\u201d or \u201cAbram\u201d were merely a corrupt form of it, and\nespecially as in one of the examples it occurs in a serious passage of\na tragedy\u2014it seems much more probable that the term \u201cAbraham\u201d itself,\nas so applied, had its own distinct and well-understood meaning,\nso familiar as to excite, at that period, no necessarily ludicrous\nassociation. And that this term _Abraham_ was a cant phrase which\nhad come into common use is actually implied by the correspondent\nexpression in the preceding line of this very speech of Mercutio:\n\n  \u201cSpeak to my gossip, Venus, one fair word,\n  One _nickname_ for her purblind son and heir;\n  Young _Abraham_ Cupid, he that shot so trim.\u201d\n\nNow, it is obvious that _auburn_, as being a common adjective, could\nconstitute no nickname; whereas Abraham, as a noun proper, and at the\nsame time signifying a certain color, serves that purpose completely,\nas, for example, _Cicero_, or _Nasica_.\n\nWe must own that a passage in Bishop Hall\u2019s _Satires_ at first a little\npuzzled us, viz.:\n\n  \u201cA lustie courtier whose curled head\n  With _abron_ locks was fairly furnished.\u201d[86]\n\nBut upon reflection it will be found that, although _abron_, at first\nsight, looks much more like auburn than does either _Abraham_ or\n_Abram_, and it might appear, therefore, to be, in fact, a less corrupt\nform of that word than either of the other terms, yet, on the other\nhand, _abron_ is itself both in form and sound much nearer _Abram_ than\nit is to _auburn_, and may, therefore, be only a misspelt variation of\nthe first rather than of the second expression.\n\nIn this philological dilemma, we believe we are able to throw a gleam\nof light on the obscurity; and, though the explanation is derived\nfrom a source apparently remote, there is, nevertheless, good ground\nfor thinking it may prove satisfactory. We happen to have in our\npossession a copy of the quarto edition of the Latin Dictionary\npublished at Cambridge, England, in 1693, which is the foundation of\nthose dictionaries of the Latin language in common use which have\nsucceeded it. The word _vitex_ is thus translated in it: \u201cA kind of\nwithy or willow, commonly called agnus castus, in English, park-leaves,\n_Abraham\u2019s balm_, chaste or _hemp_ tree.\u201d\n\nNow, it is no less certain than melancholy to reflect upon that our\nrespected ancestry, like their descendants, were compelled to supply\nthe loss of hair by some adventitious covering, and that their periwigs\nwere sometimes perhaps commonly manufactured out of either the coarser\nor the finer filament of flax or hemp, since those made of hair were\nvery costly. We are confident we have read of a splendid and no doubt\nfull-bottomed article of the latter material costing as much as fifty\nguineas, a couple of centuries ago.[87] We speak of flax and hemp\nindiscriminately, however botanically different, as those predecessors\nof ours were in the habit of doing, and as being, in fact, used for\nsimilar purposes, _e.g._, \u201cExcept the flax or hemp plant, and a few\nother plants, there is very little herbage of any sort.\u201d[88]\n\nTo the coarser filament of both, after the article is heckled, is\nstill, we believe, applied the name of _tow_. In either case, the\nsubstance, when thus subjected to the nicer process of manufacture,\npresents that well-known whitish brown color so often and so\nenthusiastically celebrated by the elder English poets in the aspect\nof \u201cflaxen locks.\u201d We do not know, and, after considerable research,\nhave been unable to ascertain with accuracy, what was the peculiar\nrelation of the \u201chemp-tree\u201d to those other vegetable productions; but\ninfer from the name that there was a certain resemblance in the fibre\nof the one to the others, and that probably to some extent it was\nformerly used for similar purposes. At any rate, it is only with the\nname and the associations it calls up that we have particularly to do.\nIf the hemp-tree, otherwise called \u201cAbraham\u2019s balm,\u201d furnished when\nmanufactured an article similar in color to that of the other vegetable\nproductions referred to, a sufficient foundation is laid for this\ninquiry.\n\nBosworth\u2019s _Dictionary of the Anglo-Saxon Language_ affords a striking\nillustration of the general subject. He says that \u201cflax signified, in\nearlier times, also _hair_ and all kinds of hairy thread. In Austria,\nthe flax is called haar, hair. The Danish h\u00f6r signifies the same.\u201d He\nadds: \u201cThe Old English flix-_down_, soft hair, is another instance that\nflax in earlier ages was used to designate hair.\u201d\n\nOf the metaphorical use of the word the poets are full of pregnant\nexamples, for instance:\n\n  \u201cHer flaxen haire, insnaring all beholders,\n  She next permits to wave about her shoulders.\u201d[89]\n\n  \u201cAll flaxen was his poll.\u201d[90]\n\n  \u201cAdown the shoulders of the heavenly fair\n  In easy ringlets flowed her flaxen hair;\n  And with a golden comb, in matchless grace,\n  She taught each lock its most becoming place.\u201d[91]\n\nIf to these examples we add the following passage, we shall perceive\nthat the hue in question enjoyed a special distinction and favor:\n\n\u201cThe four colors signify the four virtues; the _flaxey_, having a\nwhiteness, appertains to temperance, because it makes _candidam et\nmundam animam_.\u201d[92]\n\nAnd as this is a hue which frequently distinguishes the heads of\nyoungsters, a large proportion of whom, at an early period of life, we\nknow as _white-headed_ urchins, and in England as well as in the United\nStates even as _tow-heads_, we are very strongly inclined to believe\nthe color and the term \u201cAbraham\u201d or \u201cAbram\u201d to be thus derived from\nassociation, and to be so applied to the boy Cupid; the word _Abraham_,\nin this connection, having come to express, to a certain extent, the\n_tow_, or the color of the tow, of _hemp_, or flax, or equally of the\nfiner part which remains after the tow is combed out. So that, in all\nprobability, the cant term \u201cAbraham,\u201d as thus applied in Shakespeare\u2019s\nday, meant precisely the same as _flaxen_, with, perhaps, a slightly\nhumorous allusion. And in this view of the case, we must put in a\n_caveat_ to the allegation of Mr. White, that, if \u201cCupid is always\nrepresented by the old painters as auburn-haired,\u201d then they have so\ndepictured him without sufficient authority; indeed, in contradiction\nof the best authorities; for the classical evidence on this point\nwill show his hair to be described as of that color which is usually\nknown by the style of \u201cflaxen\u201d; since auburn is really a dun color, or\n\u201creddish brown,\u201d whereas Cupid\u2019s hair was flaxen, or, as we now say,\nblonde. For instance:\n\n\u201cThe god of love was usually represented as a plump-cheeked boy, rosy\nand naked, with _light_ hair floating on his shoulders.\u201d[93]\n\n\u201cEros is usually represented as a roguish boy, plump-cheeked and naked,\nwith _light_ hair floating on his shoulders.\u201d[94]\n\nWe cannot but think, therefore, that this manifest distinction of\nhue effectually disposes of the theory that \u201cabron\u201d stands for any\nmisspelling of _auburn_, as suggested by Mr. Dyce, and adopted by Mr.\nWhite.\n\nIt appears, by the bye, that this same _agnus castus_, or hemp-tree,\nwhich has given occasion for these remarks, was supposed from an early\nperiod to possess some peculiar virtues, which prompted its other\nappellation of \u201cThe Chaste Tree\u201d; and to this circumstance was owing,\ndoubtless, its introduction by the poets in their descriptions of\nvarious ceremonials. Thus, Chaucer has three several references to it\nin his \u201cFloure and Leafe,\u201d and very noticeably, as follows:\n\n  \u201cSome of laurer, and some full pleasantly\n  Had chaplets of woodbind; and, sadly,\n  Some of _agnus castus_ weren also\n  Chaplets fresh.\u201d\n\nSo Dryden, also, modernizing this very passage of the older poet:\n\n  \u201cOf laurel some, of woodbine many more,\n  And wreaths of _agnus castus_ many bore.\u201d\n\nIt ought to be suggested that the statement herein made as to the\nearlier practice of wearing wigs of flax and tow, in addition to some\ndirect evidence to the point, is partly a matter of inference, and\npartly due to rather vague recollections of youthful studies (to which\nwe have not thought it worth while to recur) among the romance writers\nof the last century. Their famous heroes undoubtedly were more or less\nfamiliar with \u201cAbraham-men\u201d and personages of that description; and\nit must be confessed that the impression of the \u201ctow-wigs\u201d worn, for\npurposes of disguise or with whatever object, by the highwaymen, sturdy\nbeggars, and other worthies introduced into their novels, is amongst\nthe strongest left on our mind by those lucubrations of their genius.\n\nThe inference which we have ventured upon is that, since wigs were\narticles of supposed necessity, and certainly have been used from\nearly times; and since those manufactured of hair must have been much\nmore costly in former days than at present, the probabilities are very\nstrong that this important description of head-gear was made, more or\nless commonly, out of that material which still, we believe, affords\nthe foundation of those ingenious works of art, the color and beauty\nof which furnished the poets with an ordinary and apt illustration of\nbright and flowing locks.\n\nWe are not without testimony on this point, however, and that, too, of\nno less authority than Walter Scott, which is literally to the point:\n\n\u201cThe identical Peter wears a huge great-coat, threadbare and patched.\nHis hair, half gray half black, escaped in elf-locks around a huge wig\n_made of tow_, as it seemed to me.\u201d[95]\n\nAddison also tells us, in a paper of the _Spectator_, as quoted by\nJohnson:\n\n  \u201cI bought a fine flaxen long wig.\u201d\n\nIt is true, Dr. Johnson cites this example in his _Dictionary_ as only\nmeaning something \u201cfair, long, and flowing, as if made of flax\u201d; but we\nare far from thinking the qualification of his definition inevitably\ncorrect, any more than in some other well-known instances. The great\nlexicographer imagines a wig of hair as presenting the appearance of\none made of flax; but we see no reason why the excellent _Spectator_\nshould not be taken literally according to his expression; nor why\nhe may not have appeared upon the occasion to which he refers in a\nveritable wig of flax, especially since such an object of manufacture\nwas common, could be made to bear so close a resemblance to hair,\nprobably looked better, and was of much less cost. We find a still more\ndecisive example in the _Spectator_, which scarcely admits of any other\nthan the most literal interpretation:\n\n\u201cThe greatest beau at our next county sessions was dressed in a most\nmonstrous flaxen periwig that was made in King William\u2019s reign.\u201d[96]\n\nThe following example is equally pertinent:\n\n\u201cA fair, flaxen, full-bottomed periwig.\u201d[97]\n\nIn this instance, the word \u201cfair\u201d would seem clearly to apply to the\ncolor, and \u201cflaxen\u201d to the material, for otherwise the use of both\nexpressions would be tautological.\n\nIndeed, we have not left this matter to conjecture and inference\nmerely; for we took occasion to inquire upon this topic, several years\nago, of a late celebrated hair-dresser; and, in fact, these notes have\nbeen kept on hand for a period considerably longer than the nine years\nprescribed by Horace for the due refinement and perfection of immortal\nverse. Our excellent friend, M. Charrier, of Boston, informed us that\nhe had been called upon to manufacture actual wigs of the filament of\nflax; and he remembered one particular occasion, when an article of\nspecial beauty was required for the use of a popular actress, who was\nto perform in a play which he thought was called \u201cThe fair maid with\nthe golden locks.\u201d[98] Thus we trace the article to the stage itself,\nand there, in all probability, its construction of the material in\nquestion is traditional, and is much more likely to have originated\nat a period earlier than the time of Shakespeare than at a later\ndate. Of course, if M. Charrier had lived to our day, he would have\nfound plenty of business in constructing those mountainous piles of\nvarious vegetable material with which ladies now see fit to load their\nheads\u2014\u201csome browne, some blacke, some Abram.\u201d[99]\n\nIn corroboration of these views, explanatory, we hope, of the strange\nexpression, Abraham Cupid, to modern eyes and ears, we have just met\nwith a singularly apt illustration. A very young lady of our family\nreceived last Christmas, as a present, a doll with a remarkable head of\nhair. It was long, fine, profuse, admirably curled, and exactly of that\nbrilliantly fair color, the lightest possible shade of brown, sometimes\nbut rarely seen in its perfection on the heads of young persons, and\nof the hue which might well be imagined as a peculiar and suitable\nattribute of the god of love. An examination of this attractive\nornament to the seat of whatever intellect a doll might be supposed to\npossess showed at once, that it was skilfully manufactured, doubtless\nby accomplished French artisans, of the filament of flax.[100]\n\nFrom these premises the following propositions seem to be fairly\ndeducible:\n\n1. That, in the time of Shakespeare, the word _Abraham_ was sometimes\nemployed as a cant term expressive of a certain color.\n\n2. That, since the name \u201cAbraham\u2019s balm\u201d was used for a certain shrub\nor bush, otherwise called the hemp-tree, the color in question was\nprobably that of dressed hemp or flax, which nearly resembled each\nother in hue; the word tow being still applied to the coarse filament\nof both.\n\n3. That the color attributed to \u201cflaxen locks,\u201d so celebrated through\nthe whole range of English poetry, is, in fact, that light and fair,\nthat is, blonde, color of the hair assigned to Cupid.\n\n4. That \u201cYoung Abraham Cupid,\u201d therefore, means nothing else than\n_flaxen-haired_ or _fair-haired_ Cupid.\n\nIn regard to the term \u201cAbraham\u2019s balm,\u201d as applied to the hemp-tree, we\nbeg leave to suggest that such an appellation may have been bestowed\non such a tree, as intimating a natural and appropriate cure for such\ninfirmities as resulted in mistakes about property, to which we may\nsuppose Abraham-men and their associates were only too subject. The\nfigure may be thought similar to that highly metaphorical expression\nconveyed by the passage:\n\n  \u201cYe shall have a hempen caudle, then.\u201d[101]\n\nAs to \u201cAbraham-men,\u201d a rope may, in fact, have been thought, in extreme\ncases, a \u201c_balm_ for hurt minds.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nFONTAINEBLEAU.\n\nIT stands girdled with its forty thousand acres of forest, or gathering\nof many palaces rather than a united single one, and presents perhaps a\nwider and more varied retrospect than any of its historical compeers.\nPoet, philosopher, and historian alike find inexhaustible food for\nmeditation before the grand, irregular pile that rises up before us\nwith its towers and gables massed against the sky\u2014the most elaborate\nepic ever written in stone. But prior to the stupendous poem that\nwe behold to-day, an idyl rose upon its site; a song, half sacred,\nhalf sylvan, floats to us across the distant tide of time, the\nrecord of an undying past. A vast virgin forest where the chant of\nprayer and penitence mingles with the voicing of the primeval choir\nof oaks, and sycamores, and elms, and spire-like poplars, ranged in\nmany-octaved lyres for the winds to strike with strong melodic finger;\nand human souls set up in the high places, higher than forest trees\nor earth-built towers; harps wooing the touch divine of the Master\u2019s\nhand, joining in the ecstatic song of seraph praise; souls these who\nhave cast aside crowns of gold, and trodden their purple garments under\nfoot, to choose the crown of thorns and the scant robe of poverty\u2014love\ndriven to the strange madness, of the cross; others there are who sing\nthe deep plain-song of humility and forgiven sin; while some, whose\nsnow-white brow the dark shadow of sin has never crossed, carol forth\nin innocent joy with the matins of the lark the hymn of deliverance,\nthe psalm of praise and worship, of intercession and thanksgiving\u2014such\nis the concert of celestial harmony that echoes to us from the long-ago\nof the grand old forest. Many changes, will follow: we shall see a\nbusy stir of multitudinous life alternating with the chill silence of\nthe tomb; princes and prelates hurrying to and fro, noble matrons,\nand frail women, and death in many forms, beautiful and terrible,\nserene and tragic, passing and repassing the gates; and we shall hear\nthe woods reverberating to other sounds than those of prayer\u2014to the\nclanging of civil strife, to the voice of laughter and of tears.\n\nDistinct amidst all the earlier memories of Fontainebleau stand out\nthe figures of S. Louis and his mother, Blanche of Castille. There\nare many versions as to the origin of the place; the most popular one\nrecords that S. Louis, being out hunting one day, lost a favorite\nhound called Bleau, and, after scouring the forest in search of the\ntruant, found him at last quietly drinking at a fountain, and was so\nenchanted with the beauty of the surrounding scene that he determined\nto build a hunting-lodge on the spot; he did so, and, in memory of the\nincident, it was named Fontaine de Bleau. But this pretty legend is\nrejected by the most reliable historians, who have searched out traces\nof a much earlier origin for Fontainebleau. There seems sufficient\nevidence of its having been used as a royal residence by Hugh Capet,\nand frequented as a favorite rendezvous for the hunt by all the earlier\nkings of France. The existence of the famous monastery of S. Germain\nl\u2019Auxerre, at the western extremity of the forest, is advanced as a\nproof, and a strong one, of its being in those remote times inhabited\nby royal patrons, for monasteries sprang of necessity where kings\nlived; and there is no doubt that the greater portion of the abbey\nlands were grants from good King Robert. Blanche of Castille retired\nto an old ch\u00e2teau of some sort at Fontainebleau during her husband\u2019s\nabsence while at war with England or the Albigenses; she founded in the\nneighborhood the Abbaye de Lys, which was later on munificently endowed\nby her son, Louis IX., who even went the length of giving up to it some\nacres of the forest that he loved so well. It was here that a great\nportion of his childhood was passed. Under the shadow of the old woods,\nor pacing the solemn cloisters of the abbey, his mother instilled into\nhis mind those first lessons of fear and love upon which his life was\nso faithfully modelled. \u201cMy son, I love thee dearly, but, so help me\nGod, I would rather see thee dead at my feet than have thee live to\nsully thy soul with one mortal sin.\u201d Truly, a valiant mother of the\nMachabean mould\u2014a woman of strong faith, worthy to be the mother of a\nChristian king.\n\nWhen the child has grown to manhood, we see him still at Fontainebleau,\nholding his court of justice under the broad shade of a giant oak, he\nseated on the gnarled trunk, while his people gathered round him\u2014a\nyoung patriarch settling the disputes of his tribe, dealing out the\nlaw; justice and mercy being counsel, and judge, and jury, and the\nking\u2019s word supreme. Sometimes we see him dashing through the glade,\nfollowed by his courtiers, while the merry hunting-horn scares the wild\nbirds from their nests, and rouses the tusky boar in his lair; but\nmore frequently we see the king alone, meditating on the frail tenure\nof earthly joys and pride, or surrounded by the wise and learned men,\ntoo noble to be called courtiers, whose society he enjoyed better than\nthat of youths of his own age. Louis preserved through life a taste for\nthe monastic offices that he had joined in habitually with Blanche de\nCastille in his childhood; and, when he could spare a few days from the\ncares of his kingdom, he would spend them in the prayerful solitude of\nthe monastery of the Mathurins, assisting at all the offices with the\nmonks, and helping them in tending the sick and teaching the poor. His\nyoung courtiers made merry over this strange pastime for a king, but\nLouis only laughed, and said: \u201cLet them laugh, these young ones! It\nhurts no one, and God is not offended. If I spent my time in hunts, and\ntournaments, and dancing, they would not blame me. Let them laugh; pray\nGod I may never give them cause to weep!\u201d Once S. Louis fell ill at\nFontainebleau, and, being considered at the point of death, he called\nhis little son to him, and gave him some touching advice concerning his\nconduct and private life; then suddenly changing his tone to one of\ngreat impetuosity, he exclaimed: \u201cI pray thee, fair son, make thyself\nloved of my people! for verily I had rather a Scotchman came from\nScotland to govern the kingdom well and loyally than that it should be\nunfairly or unkindly governed by thee!\u201d\n\nJoinville, who was the close companion of S. Louis through the\nmost active part of his career, finds no words wherewith to praise\nadequately the character and virtues of the king. \u201cWhat concerned\nhimself alone could never move him to joy or wrath,\u201d says this\ntrustworthy chronicler; \u201cbut when it touched the honor of God, or the\nhappiness of his people, Louis knew no fear, and brooked no delay, nor\ncould any earthly consideration hinder him in the discharge of a duty.\u201d\nYet Joinville censures his master severely for having undertaken the\nsecond Crusade, which he condemns as a great military and political\nmistake. Had it succeeded, however, Egypt would have become a Christian\ncolony, and the cross would have been planted on the pyramids; this was\nwhat S. Louis looked to beyond the conquest of Jerusalem; and, if his\ndream had been realized, Joinville would hardly have pronounced it a\n\u201cgreat mistake.\u201d\n\nA quaint anecdote is told of a trick played by S. Louis to ensnare\nhis nobles into enlisting in this fatal expedition. The court was at\nFontainebleau for the celebration of Christmas. It was customary for\nthe king to present the courtiers with furred cloaks called _liveries_\nto wear at Midnight Mass on Christmas eve. S. Louis had a great number\nof these made, and gave orders that a cross should be embroidered in\ndark silk on the shoulder of each, and that they should be distributed\nat the last moment in a dimly lighted apartment; this was done,\naccording to the king\u2019s command; the courtiers hurriedly donned\ntheir _liveries_, and it was only when they entered the brilliantly\nilluminated church that the wearers beheld the symbol on each other\u2019s\nbacks. They were at first astonished and displeased, says Joinville,\nbut when the king came forward with the cross on his own shoulder and\nthe crucifix in his hand, and asked if they would tear theirs off, and\nsend him forth alone to the Holy Land, a thrill of chivalrous ardor\nran through the assembly, and all answered as one voice: \u201cNo; we will\nfollow you! We will keep the cross!\u201d And they did.\n\nBlanche de Castille, whose religious enthusiasm is rightly or wrongly\ncredited with the responsibility of this ill-fated enterprise, held\nthe regency during her son\u2019s absence, and proved by her courage in\nconfronting the dangers and difficulties of the charge, and by her\nwisdom and counsel, that even in those unprogressive days a wise and\nvirtuous woman made no bad substitute for a man in the mighty task of\ngovernment. She spent most of her time in the comparative retirement\nof Fontainebleau; but when the news came of the disastrous issue of\nMansoorah, where the Christian army was cut to pieces, and the king\nwith his noblest captains taken prisoners, she left it, and hastened\nto the capital, in order to work more actively for the ransom of her\nson and his brave companions in arms. It was a terrible time for a\nmother. The queen knew that those who had taken her son captive had\nno power over his soul; she knew that Louis was more commanding in his\nchains than he had even been at the head of his armies; that adversity\nwould teach him no language unbecoming a Christian prince; that neither\nthreats nor torture would wrench from him any compromise unworthy of\nhis honor; and that captivity, nay, death, in so august a cause was the\nmost enviable destiny she could have wished him; but she was a human\nmother withal, and in this hour of trial her motherhood vindicated\nitself relentlessly. Blanche labored day and night to raise a ransom\nthat might tempt the Turk to give up his prize. She heard that eight\nthousand _besants_[102] would be accepted for the king himself, and\nthis sum was with great difficulty mustered and sent to Palestine.\nBut when Louis heard it, he sent word to the sultan that \u201cthe King of\nFrance was not to be ransomed with gold or silver; that he would give\nthe town of Damietta for his own person, and eight thousand _besants_\nfor his army.\u201d The offer was rejected with scorn, and Louis was\nsubjected to still greater cruelties and humiliations; but at last,\nworn out by the indomitable heroism of his victim, the sultan gave\nway; the regal fortitude in which suffering had clothed their captive\nhad subdued even his jailers into wondering admiration, and they set\nhim free, declaring that \u201cthis king was the proudest Christian that\nthe East had ever seen.\u201d No sooner was he at liberty, than, instead of\nhastening away from the scenes of his misery and misfortunes, Louis set\nto work to spread the Gospel far and wide in Palestine; but Blanche\nhad earned a right to clasp him to her heart after those three years\nof separation. She felt, too, that the days were growing short; so she\nwrote, entreating him to come home. S. Louis was repairing the ramparts\nof Sidon when the summons reached him; he immediately prepared to obey\nit; but, before he had left Sidon, the mother who, next to God, had\nbeen the supreme love of his life had taken her flight to a better\nworld. She died at Fontainebleau. \u201cHe made great mourning thereat,\u201d\nsays Sire de Joinville, \u201cthat for two days no speech could be gotten of\nhim. After that he sent a chamber-man to fetch me. When I came before\nhim in his chamber, where he was alone, he stretched forth his arms,\nand said to me, \u2018O seneschal! I have lost my mother. My God, thou\nknowest that I loved this mother better than all other creatures, but\nthy will be done. Blessed be thy name!\u2019\u201d Philip le Bel (IV.) was born\nat Fontainebleau. There are conflicting versions as to the place of\nPhilip\u2019s death, but it is generally supposed to have taken place at\nFontainebleau, in the same room where he was born. There was a current\nbelief at the time, and it was preserved through many succeeding\ngenerations, that his death was the result of a summons issued against\nhim by the grand master of the templars, Jacques de Molai. A hundred\nand thirteen templars perished at the stake during Philip\u2019s reign, and\nthese _autos-da-fe_ were crowned by that of the grand master, who was\nburnt alive in the gardens of his own palace. As the flames rose round\nhis naked body, the templar lifted up his voice, and, in the hearing of\nthe vast multitude of spectators, solemnly summoned Philip \u201cto meet him\nat the judgment-seat in four months from that day.\u201d The death of the\nking precisely four months from the day of De Molai\u2019s execution gave a\nsanction to the credulity of the people, and the legend passed into\nan historical occurrence. The fact of the summons is accepted; we can\nhave no difficulty in admitting its inevitable effect on the mind of\nthe individual against whom it was sent forth. There was a prevailing\nbelief that a dying man had the power to issue the formidable command,\nand that obedience was compulsory. Philip, whose passion for gold\nhad led him to confiscate the treasures of the templars, and then to\ncalumniate and persecute them in order to justify his own spoliations,\nwas haunted by the words of De Molai. He grew sick, and his illness,\ndefying all the arts of medicine, soon brought him to the verge of\ndeath. Feeling that his days were numbered, he begged to be taken to\nFontainebleau, that he might gaze once more upon the home of his happy\nchildhood. On arriving there, he sent for his children and his friends,\nand took a sorrowful farewell of them. \u201cThey entered the chamber where\nthe king was,\u201d says Godefroid de Paris, \u201cand where there was very\nlittle light. They asked him how he felt, and he answered: \u2018Ill in body\nand in soul. I have put on so many _tillages_ and laid hands on so much\nriches that I shall never be absolved. Methinks I shall die to-night,\nfor I suffer grievous hurt from the curses which pursue me.\u2019\u201d And that\nsame night he died (1314).\n\nThe sons of Philip frequented Fontainebleau very faithfully. So\ndid Charles V.; but a veil of mist hangs over the history of the\ncastle during the greater part of the XIVth century. We only find\nit mentioned now and then as a meeting-place for the hunt of royal\nsportsmen. Isabeau de Bavi\u00e8re honored it often with her presence,\nand enlarged a portion of the building. But the romantic history of\nFontainebleau dates from Francis I. He was to it what Louis XIV. was\nto Versailles. It is customary amongst the admirers of those two\nbrilliant representatives of French monarchy to set them side by side,\nand compare their characters and achievements. And no doubt there are\npoints of resemblance between them, but it is difficult to pursue the\ncomparison much below the surface. Louis XIV., as a king, certainly\nhas the best of it, and, as a man, Francis seems to have had all the\nvices without many of his successor\u2019s redeeming virtues. Louis was\ndissipated, but he put a limit to his dissipation: Francis knew none;\nhe exhausted the treasury by his wanton prodigality and the army by his\nsenseless ambition; he burnt La Provence, he broke his plighted word to\nCharles V., and yet we hear him spoken of as the rival of Bayard, \u201csans\npeur et sans reproche.\u201d[103]\n\nHistory passes strange verdicts sometimes, but stranger still is the\nblind credulity with which posterity endorses them, and clings to them\nin spite of the light that by degrees pierces through the darkness,\nshowing up the idol or the monster, stripped of masks and drapery, and\nexposed in its nakedness, or clothed with its own deeds, that make the\nonly garment it has a right to wear; we acknowledge that we have been\nworshipping a false standard, or forswearing an honest one; but we go\non with a dogged tenacity worshipping and forswearing still, rather\nthan forsake an old love or renounce an old antipathy. There are few\npersonages in history who have usurped this kind of worship and held\nit more successfully than Francis I. Fontainebleau is not, however,\nthe appropriate place for challenging his claims to the applause of\nposterity; here he is on his vantage-ground; we see him at his best,\nall his faults, if not obliterated, mellowed in the blaze of borrowed\nglory that encircles him; here he is the graceful knight-errant, the\nmagnificent patron of art, and science, and learning, surrounded by\nmen of genius, whom he treats as equals and as friends; we forget his\nprofligate follies, his reckless waste of the kingdom\u2019s money and the\nkingdom\u2019s blood, when we see him petting Leonardo da Vinci, doing the\nbehests and humoring the crotchets of the cantankerous old genius so\ntenderly, and bearing his unreasonable jealousy and his reproaches like\na chidden child. It would go hard with us to be severe on so lovable\na scapegrace, even if he were not the King of France. Francis ought\nnever to come before us except in the midst of his beloved artists.\nThere he is perfect. To Leonardo his demeanor is especially touching.\nWhen the proud old man, still in the zenith of his fame, but stung by\nthe coldness of Leo X. and frightened by the rising glory of Michael\nAngelo\u2019s sun, turned sulkily away from his native land, Francis\ninvited him to Fontainebleau, received him with open arms, and treated\nhim like a prince as he was of the true _right divine_ creation,\nand laid himself out to console him and brighten the evening of his\ndays. The exile was querulous from ill-health, as well as soured by\ndisappointment and the ingratitude of the Medici; but Francis bore with\nhis temper and his lamentations with the sweetness of a woman; there\nwas no tender gracefulness that sympathy could devise to cheer the old\nman\u2019s spirit and heal his aching pride that the king had not recourse\nto; he would have kept him at Fontainebleau, near his own person, but\nLeonardo, who was so fond of solitude and meditation that he never\nmarried, \u201cbecause the clatter of a wife\u2019s tongue would have disturbed\nhis thoughts,\u201d could not bear the gay bustle of the court, and said he\nmust go somewhere to be quiet; so Francis gave him a splendid suite of\napartments in the Ch\u00e2teau de Clou at Amboise. He spent the remaining\nfour years of his life there, painting his celebrated Mona Lisa, the\nmost exquisitely finished perhaps of all his works, and in writing his\ntreatise _Della Pittura_, a book of great originality and learning,\nwritten, like all Da Vinci\u2019s books, after the manner of the Eastern\nmanuscripts, from right to left\u2014a singularity which he adopted, it\nis said, to foil the curiosity of those around him, and prevent his\nbrother artists from discovering his secrets. The king paid twelve\nthousand livres for Mona Lisa\u2014an unprecedented sum for a work of art\nin those days. When Leonardo was thought to be near his end, Francis\nhad him conveyed to Fontainebleau that he might watch over him himself\nand be with him at the close.\n\nOn the morning of his death, when the king came into the room, the\ndying man tried to raise himself on his couch to welcome him, but the\neffort was too much; he sank forward, and would have fallen but for the\ntimely arms that rescued him. Francis laid the venerable old head upon\nhis breast, and there it lay till Leonardo breathed his last.\n\nThe artist had been pursued for months before his death by a morbid\nterror of being buried alive, and had implored Francis to let him be\nkept three days before the coffin was closed. The king complied with\nthe wish, and caused his friend to be exposed with royal honors, and\nthe body laid in state for three days. He was buried in the Church of\nS. Florentin, near his own abode at Amboise.\n\nBenvenuto Cellini is another shining stone in the pedestal of Francis\nI. Discontented with the recognition that his genius met with at home,\nhe too was enticed from the blue skies of Florence to the colder but\nmore genial atmosphere of Fontainebleau, and was petted by the graceful\nking only in a less degree than Da Vinci. But Benvenuto, who knew so\nmany things, who excelled almost equally as a poet, a sculptor, and\na painter, was lamentably ignorant in the art of being a courtier.\nThe Duchesse d\u2019Estampes was queen of the gay palace of Armida, and\nall the great men that frequented it bowed before her; but this bold\nFlorentine, who had a dash of the brigand in his composition, thought\nhe might dispense with her patronage, and refused to do homage at\nthe common shrine; he knew that he had had the bad luck to displease\nthe haughty fair one by his untutored manners from the first, and,\ninstead of trying to conciliate, he determined to conquer her. The\nduchess was a liberal and enlightened patroness of art, and seems\nto have merited in some degree by her personal accomplishments the\nflattering title bestowed on her by one of her prot\u00e9g\u00e9s of \u201cthe most\nbeautiful of _savantes_ and the most learned of belles.\u201d Her sway over\nFrancis rested, therefore, on something stronger than the ephemeral\ntenure of mere beauty; but, had it been otherwise, what chance was\nthere for Benvenuto against the favorite of the king? He, foolish\nmortal, braved her so far as to ask the king direct, without having\nrecourse to her intervention, for an order to cast a bronze statue\nfor the great gallery which was in process of completion, and Francis\ngave him the order, with carte-blanche for the execution. The statue\nwas finished, and a day appointed for the king to see it. This was a\nprecious opportunity for a woman\u2019s vengeance; the duchess knew that\nthe triumph of the artist depended altogether on the first impression\nproduced on the king, and that the triumph of the work depended mainly\non the light in which it was seen: Cellini had named an hour when the\nsun would pour in soft, full floods of light down the gallery; and,\nlong before the appointed time, he was there, watching every changing\nshadow that it cast upon his statue, counting the minutes impatiently,\nwhile his friends and all the court flocked in to assist at the king\u2019s\nentrance, and witness the triumph or the humiliation of the sculptor.\nBut the hour passed, and another, and another, and there was no sign of\nFrancis; the sun was gathering up its light, and speeding away to the\nwest, and the brown twilight was creeping into the gallery. Benvenuto\ngrew nervous, then outrageous. He paced up and down before his Jupiter\nlike a man gone mad. Where was the king? Would no one take pity on him\nto go and call the king? But Benvenuto knew full well that none in that\ncourtly crowd would be guilty of so rash an act. Not even he himself\nwould dare to do it. He knew whose fault it was that the king was not\nforthcoming, and he gnashed his teeth in savage but impotent rage. But\ngenius, like prophecy, has a ready handmaid in inspiration. \u201cLet fall\nthe curtains, and bring lights,\u201d cried the sculptor, with a sudden\nbound from despair to triumph. The partisans of the \u201c_belle savante_\u201d\ngroaned, and stood still; the friends of Cellini flew to obey his\norders. It mattered not that they did not understand: the master did.\nIn less time than it takes to tell, the gallery was illuminated from\nend to end; lamps, torches, waxlights, every luminary that hands could\ncarry, was put in requisition, till Jupiter shone out magnificent,\nterrible, and dazzling in the blaze of an impromptu illumination more\nweirdly effective than the brightest daylight could have been.\n\nCellini\u2019s spirit rose to frenzy. He ran hither and thither, arranging\nthe lights with a view to more striking effect; clustering many flames\nin a group at one point, leaving another in partial shade; clapping his\nhands in wild delight one minute, impatiently knocking down one of his\nhelpmates the next. It was finished. The king was heard approaching.\nCellini, with an imperious gesture, commanded silence; the doors of\nthe gallery were thrown open, and the colossal bronze god flashed out\nin all his dark effulgence on the astonished and enchanted gaze of the\nmonarch. The triumph of the hour was complete; but it cost the sculptor\ndear. The duchess gave Francis no peace till he quarrelled with her\nenemy, and dismissed him from the court.\n\nMany Italian artists had followed Leonardo da Vinci to France, some out\nof love for the great master himself, others tempted by the generosity\nwhich the King of France showed universally to their class. The most\ndistinguished of these disciples of Leonardo was Andrea del Sarto. But\nhe was of too restless a disposition to settle anywhere permanently;\ncamp, court, and studio alike wearied him after a time; his wings\nwere too buoyant to remain long folded even in the enchanted clime of\nFontainebleau; he was not more than a year there, when he declared it\nwas a necessity of life for him to return to Florence, the ostensible\nmotive being to see his wife. Francis proposed to send for her,\npromising that she should be made welcome to his court as an honored\nguest; but Andrea said this would not do: he must go himself and fetch\nher. All the king could obtain was a promise that he would return to\nFrance in a year; and, to make the promise more binding, he entrusted\nhim with a considerable sum of money, to be expended, according to\nAndrea\u2019s taste and judgment, on objects of art for the decoration of\nthe palace. But when Andrea found himself once more in Florence, in\nthe company of his wife and his former boon companions, he forgot all\nabout his mission, and spent the king\u2019s money in merry-making; he did\nnot dare show himself at Fontainebleau after this, but frittered away\nthe rest of his life in his native city, where he eventually died in\npoverty and contempt. It would take too long to enumerate the various\nEuropean celebrities who fill up the brilliant picture presented by\nFrancis\u2019 court at this period; but we cannot refuse a passing mention\nto Serlio, the accomplished Bolognese architect, whom the king lured\naway from Italy by his gold and his honeyed flattery. Serlio rebuilt\nthe palace almost entirely; his genius was allowed full scope, and the\nresult justified the confidence of his patron.\n\nThe area of the old building being much too small for the magnificent\nnew plan, Francis bought in the Mathurin Convent and the noble grounds\nwith which Louis IX. had endowed it, and added them to the original\nsite. The design of the library had been sketched by S. Louis, and\nthis Serlio adhered to strictly, making no change of his own. When the\nedifice was finished, Francis swept Italy and Spain for artists to\nadorn and beautify it. Rosso came to paint the walls in fresco, and his\ndesign for the grand gallery, which was to be called the Gallery of\nFrancis I., carried the prize over all his competitors; he embellished\nit with paintings, friezes of great beauty, and rich stucco-work.\nSo delighted was the king with the result of Rosso\u2019s labors that,\nin addition to other favors, he created him a canon of the Sainte\nChapelle. This wonderful gallery had sixteen frescoes representing the\nmost remarkable incidents in the life of Francis; the famous _porte\ndor\u00e9e_[104] was decorated by the same gifted hand. It is lamentable to\nthink that these glorious works of art, which formed Rosso\u2019s principal\nclaim on the admiration of the world, were sacrificed to the vindictive\njealousy of a rival. Francesco Pellegrini had been the early friend\nof Rosso; but, when they met as fellow-laborers at Fontainebleau, the\nfriendship turned to a rivalry which soon developed into bitter enmity,\nand ended in the tragic death of Rosso. Primaticcio, as Pellegrini\nis usually called, was accused by his rival of having stolen a large\nsum of money from him; he was put to the torture, but acquitted\ntriumphantly. Rosso was then seized with shame and remorse; haunted\nin imagination by the shrieks of the innocent man, the friend of his\nyouth, whom he had given up to the torture, his mind gave way, and in a\nfit of insanity he took poison, which killed him in a few hours. Some\nsay that Rosso knew that the accusation was false, and that he brought\nit designedly against Primaticcio, hoping to get rid of him; but his\nfrantic grief on discovering his mistake, and the fatal consequences of\nhis remorse, may be taken as contradictory evidence of this opinion.\nPrimaticcio, moreover, by his subsequent conduct, vindicates his\nunhappy rival from having done him so very great a wrong in suspecting\nhim capable of the theft, for he unblushingly stole from Rosso what was\nincomparably more precious to him than gold\u2014his fame. No sooner was he\nmaster of the field, than he set about to destroy all traces of Rosso\u2019s\nbeautiful compositions, pulling down the walls which they adorned,\nunder pretence of enlarging the space. Some few that were spared by the\nrelentless destroyer have been obliterated by damp and the effects of\ntime. There is one fine painting of his to be seen in the Louvre\u2014\u201cMary\nreceiving the homage of S. Elizabeth.\u201d\n\nThe f\u00eates given at Fontainebleau by Francis I., though perhaps inferior\nin splendor to those of Louis XIV. at Versailles, surpassed them\nin picturesque elegance; they were rather the ideal festivities of\nan artist than the gorgeous pageants of an Arabian caliph. But the\nleisures of Francis were not all wasted in frivolous amusements. In\nhis sane moments, when he was not flying after that will-o\u2019-the-wisp\nthat cost France and him so dear, the conquest of the Milanese, he was\nsomething more than the mere fascinating madcap that his enemies make\nhim out; for it is his lot, like that of all charming but unprincipled\nsovereigns, to inspire panegyrics and denunciations equally\nexaggerated. He was not only a patron of those artists who contributed\nto the adornment of his dwellings: Francis courted the society of\nlearned men for learning\u2019s sake. The luxurious repasts of Fontainebleau\nwere enlivened and refined by the presence of such men as Clement\nMarot, whose style, full of terseness and incisive grace, the king was\nfond of emulating in verses of his own composition, not altogether\ndevoid of poetic merit. He delighted in the chivalrous lays of the\nmiddle ages, and in the harmonious cadence and florid imagery of the\nballads of the troubadours. The witty Cur\u00e9 of Mendon was a frequent\nguest at the royal table, Francis provoking his lively sallies, and\nheartily enjoying them, though the sarcasm was often boldly pointed\nat himself. Learned men of every class\u2014doctors, bookworms, and even\nprinters\u2014were admitted to the same honor. Erasmus was one of the\nfew who withstood the wiles of the charmer; he steadfastly refused\nall invitations to reside permanently at Fontainebleau; but he kept\nup a brisk correspondence with Francis, the honest freedom of whose\ntone throughout does equal honor to the scholar and the king. The\nFrench court was, in fact, the most polished and the gayest in Europe\nat this period. The sprightly Queen of Navarre\u2014that sister whom\nFrancis so tenderly loved, his \u201cMarguerite des Marguerites\u201d\u2014was its\npresiding genius and brightest ornament. She was passionately fond of\nFontainebleau, and made it her home during the greater part of her\nfirst husband\u2019s life, and after her marriage with Henri de Navarre,\nwho was so frequently absent, either in her brother\u2019s service or\nin the pursuit of war on his own account. Her image is everywhere\nassociated in our memory with that of Francis in his favorite palace.\nIn her boudoir, a spacious and magnificently decorated room, leading\nout of Rosso\u2019s noble gallery, the royal brother and sister passed\nmany delightful hours, either in affectionate converse together, or\nsurrounded by the artists and learned men whom they both loved to\nhonor. Here Francis placed the library of rare books and manuscripts\nfor which he had scoured Italy, Spain, and Greece. The erudite Erasmus\nwould sometimes deliver one of his learned discourses on deep and\nelevating themes in the privacy of this enchanting retreat, while\nMarguerite de Navarre worked out, in rainbow-tinted silks and golden\nthreads, the poem of one of her artist friends, or some chivalrous\nexploit of her idolized Francis. Happy had it been for Francis and for\nFrance had he dwelt content amidst the peaceful and refined delights\nof this Eldorado. But there was the Milanese\u2014that unlucky Milanese,\nthe bane of his life, and of his people\u2019s while his lasted. Again\nand again he flew at it like a moth at the flame, or a madman at his\n_id\u00e9e fixe_\u2014failure and humiliation, instead of disgusting him with\nhis hobby, only goaded him to its pursuit with greater zest. And what\nodd, shifting relations grew out of this standing duel between him and\nCharles V.! Alternately, they were rivals, friends, deadly foes, and\n\u201cdear brothers.\u201d Beside the gloomy, vindictive Spanish warrior, subtle\nin his policy, swift and ruthless in his vengeance, the brilliant\nfigure of Francis shone at its best; he had all the qualities that his\nrival lacked; his uncalculating generosity, his rash impulses that\nled him into so many grievous straits, all stand out in bright relief\nagainst the dark background of the contest. The story of the broken\nTreaty of Madrid is one of the many vexed questions over which the\napologists of both princes have broken innumerable lances, but they\nleave it pretty much where it stood in the year of grace 1527, after\nthe Notables decided that the conditions of the treaty were monstrous,\nand had been unjustifiably imposed by a jailer on his prisoner, and\nthat Francis was right in maintaining _que prisonnier gard\u00e9 n\u2019est tenu\na nulle foye, n\u2019y se peut obliger \u00e0 rien_.[105]\n\nCharles had no right to exact the abdication of his conquered foe,\nand the latter had no power to effect it without the consent of his\nNotables, which he knew full well would never be granted. Still, the\nsolemn oath sworn on the crucifix by Francis in presence of the emperor\nis not to be disposed of so easily. It would have been more consistent\nwith the character for Bayard-like chivalry, which the French prince\narrogated, to have withheld the pledge which he knew he could not\nredeem, than to purchase his liberty by a subterfuge that has left\nan equivocal mark upon his memory. He was only a lifetenant of the\ncrown of France; he might resign it, but he had no power to alienate\nits most insignificant fief; in swearing, therefore, to hand over the\nduchy of Burgundy and the counties of Flanders and Artois to Charles\nV., he was performing a vain sham; for, had he been willing to carry\nout the promise of renunciation himself, he was well aware that the\nstates-general and the parliament of the realm would never ratify the\nact, and that without their ratification it remained null and void. The\nstrong epithets used by Charles in denouncing the disloyalty of his\nquondam captive in violating this preposterous treaty are, however,\nsomewhat misplaced, considering the duplicity and cruelty which he\nhimself had displayed in extracting impossible concessions from a brave\nand conquered foe.\n\nIt was not long before Francis had an opportunity of vindicating his\nmuch-prized character for chivalrous magnanimity by heaping coals of\nfire on the head of Charles. The emperor was on his way to Ghent, and\napplied to the king for a safe-conduct through his dominions. It was\ngranted at once, but on condition that the emperor should remain for a\nfew days the guest of Francis. Charles was in such a hurry to castigate\nthe rebels that he would have promised more than this in order to\narrive swiftly on the scene of vengeance; he consented to halt at\nFontainebleau; but no sooner had he set foot on the soil of his \u201cgood\nbrother of France,\u201d than he was seized with tremors and suspicions\nthat made his life miserable; he accused himself of madness in having\nso rashly rushed into the arms of a prince whom he had persecuted\nmeanly when he was in his power, and whose state he had grievously\ninjured; nor did the magnificence of the reception which greeted him\non his arrival calm his fears. Francis, who was utterly incapable of a\nbase breach of hospitality, could not forego the pleasure of playing\na little on the agonies of Charles; he occasionally repeated to him\nthe murmurings of the Queen of Navarre and the Dauphin, who would fain\nhave improved the rare opportunity by compelling their guest to undo\nsome of the mischief he had done their brother and father. Francis even\nrecounted to the emperor with great merriment an epigrammatic little\npassage between himself and his favorite dwarf, Triboulet: while the\nlatter was diverting the king with his usual antics on the night of\nthe Spaniard\u2019s arrival, he suddenly pulled out his tablets, and began\nto write with an air of great gravity. \u201cWhat are you writing there,\nTriboulet?\u201d inquired his master. \u201cThe name of a bigger fool than\nmyself,\u201d replied the dwarf. \u201cWho is that?\u201d said Francis. \u201cCharles,\u201d\nreplied Triboulet. \u201cBut suppose I keep my word, and let him go?\u201d\nqueried the king. \u201cThen,\u201d answered Triboulet, \u201cI would rub out Charles,\nand write Francis instead.\u201d\n\nThe question of the Milanese was discussed between the two sovereigns\nduring this period with great earnestness on one side and consummate\nskill on the other. Charles promised solemnly to bestow the investiture\non the Dauphin; but, when Francis urged him to confirm his pledge by a\nwritten guarantee, he cunningly retaliated his host\u2019s answer concerning\nthe Treaty of Madrid: \u201c_Prisonnier gard\u00e9 n\u2019est tenu \u00e0 nulle foye,\nn\u2019y se peut obliger \u00e0 rien._\u201d He declared, however, that on reaching\nFlanders he would give the promise in writing. We know how he kept his\nword.\n\nTO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT NUMBER.\n\n\n\n\nBRITTANY: ITS PEOPLE AND ITS POEMS.[106]\n\nTHIRD ARTICLE.\n\nIN a former notice, we expressed an intention to present our readers\nwith the translation of certain curious fragments relating to Merlin;\nto be followed by some of the historical poems which succeeded the\nDruidic compositions of earlier times. We proceed to fulfil our promise.\n\nThe name of Merlin (Myrrdhin, or Marzin) is so closely associated with\nthe early mystic and mythological poetry of Cambria and Armorica that\nit will be desirable to give some account of this personage, as far as\nthe uncertainty of his history renders it possible to do so, before\nreproducing any of the poems of which he is the subject.\n\nIt has long been supposed that there existed two Merlins, one of whom,\na magician, was the offspring of a Christian virgin and a Roman consul\nwho lived in the Vth century, in the reign of Ambrose Aurelian; or,\naccording to the popular tradition, whose father was no mortal, but a\nmalignant _Duz_, whom, under the form of a bird, she unwittingly let in\nat her window: and the other, a warrior and bard, who after the battle\nof Arderiz, in which he had unintentionally killed his nephew, lost his\nreason, and retired from the world.\n\nBut critics of the present day agree in considering that it is one\nperson who is the subject of a triple tradition, and that it is the\nsame Merlin who appears in the light of a mythological, historical, and\nlegendary hero.\n\nThe fragments which still remain in Wales of the poems of this bard\nare either very much modernized or almost wholly transformed. Of the\nballads relating to him which exist in Brittany, there seem to be four\nprincipal ones. First, a cradle-song, intensely pagan in spirit, in\nwhich his mother plaintively relates to him his mysterious origin while\nrocking him to sleep, and when, to her amazement, the infant derides\nher regrets, and defends his father, declaring himself to be born to\nbe the good genius of the Breton nation. This poem it is needless to\nreproduce. We give translations of the remaining three, beginning with\n\nMERLIN THE WIZARD.\n\n(MARZIN DIVINOUR.)\n\nVTH CENTURY.\n\n  \u201cMerlin, sage Merlin, say, whither away,\n  With your Black Dog, at the dawn of the day?\u201d\n  \u201cSeeking am I, in each wave-hollowed cleft,\n  Egg red as blood, by the sea-adder left.\n\n  \u201cCress I would seek in the meadowland low,\n  Magical gold-herb, and weird mistletoe;\n  Deep in the forest to find must I go,\n  Where by the fay-haunted fount it doth grow.\u201d\n\n  \u201cMerlin, sage Merlin, your steps, ah, retrace!\n  Mistletoe leave, the old oak-tree to grace;\n  Leave the green cress and the gold-herb to grow,\n  Hid in the well-watered meadowland low.\n\n  \u201cLeave the red egg of the snake of the sea\n  Mid the wild foam of the breakers to be.\n  Merlin! turn back from the path you have trod,\n  One and the only Diviner is God!\u201d\n\nThe latter half of the poem appears to be the voice of S. Kado, the\nChristian bishop to whom tradition attributes the conversion of Merlin.\n\nThe gold-herb figures as one of the most approved charms of Druidic\ndays. It is said to sparkle at a distance like gold\u2014whence its\nname\u2014and is greatly esteemed by the Bretons for its medicinal\nqualities. It must be gathered at dawn, by a person who is in a state\nof grace, fasting, barefoot, and clad in white linen which has not\nbeen previously worn. A circle is traced round it, and no steel must\napproach it, but it must be carefully plucked by the hand. Should any\none chance to tread upon the plant, he sleeps forthwith, and can hear\nand understand the language of animals and birds.\n\nIn the next poem, Merlin no longer appears as a magician. He is himself\novercome by a sorceress, who, after depriving him of his harp and his\ngold ring, the symbols of his dignity as bard, takes advantage of a\nparticular taste he seems to have had for apples (if we may judge\nby the praises lavished upon that fruit in poems of his composition\nstill extant in Wales[107]) to ensnare him, and to make even his will\npowerless by their means.\n\nThe tradition of his disappearance is common to Wales and Brittany.\n\u201cThe tomb of Merlin is known to none,\u201d says the bard Myvyrian, who\nlived before the Xth century. And in the Welsh Triads[108] it is\nwritten that \u201che embarked with nine other bards, and whither he went\ncannot be known.\u201d He himself says that he fled from the court to dwell\nin the woods.[109]\n\nThe king mentioned in the ballad appears to be Budik, chief of the\nBretons of Armorica, a British prince who emigrated from Cornwall, and\nwho was a valiant defender of the independence of Brittany against the\nFranks. He was assassinated by order of Clovis, who had been unable to\novercome him in battle, about the year 506. He married his daughter\nAlienor to a prince whose name is unknown, and gave her L\u00e9on for dowry.\n\nMERLIN THE BARD.\n\n(MARZIN BARZ.)\n\nI.\n\n  \u201cGood grandmother, pray list to me:\n  Fain would I go the feast to see\u2014\n  The feast commanded by the king,\n  And join the races in the ring.\u201d\n\n  \u201cTo see the feast you will not go,\n  To this, nor other one I trow;\n  Go you shall not to see the sight:\n  I see that you have wept this night.\n  Go you will not while I can let,\n  If dreamings fond your cheeks make wet.\u201d\n\n  \u201cSweet little mother, love you me?\n  Can _you_ forbid me there to be?\u201d\n  \u201cIn flying thither, you will sing:\n  Returning, you will droop the wing.\u201d\n\nII.\n\n  Bridled has he his chestnut colt,\n    His chestnut colt so red:\n  Its hoofs, well shod with glittering steel,\n    Strike fire at every tread.\n\n  Gleams on its neck a ring, and on\n    Its tail a ribbon gay;\n  Fair trappings o\u2019er its back he throws,\n    Then mounts and speeds away.\n\n  E\u2019en as he gains the glittering course,\n    The horns all loudly sound;\n  While, in the ever-thickening crowd,\n    The eager horses bound.\n\n  \u201cWho the great barrier of the field\n    Shall leap at one clear spring,\n  Perfect and free, the same shall wed\n    The daughter of the king!\u201d\n\n  Wildly thereat the young colt neighs,\n    Prances, and bounds amain;\n  His gleaming eyes flash eager fire,\n  He paws the ground with keen desire,\n    Then flies across the plain.\n\n  Far, far behind, the others all\n    Were long ago pass\u2019d by:\n  He flies alone. With one great bound,\n    He clears the barrier high.\n\n  \u201cMy lord the king, your royal word\n    Is pledged that so it be:\n  The fair Linor I therefore crave,\n    For surely mine is she.\u201d\n\n  \u201cThe princess Linor think not thou\n    In any wise to win.\n  No sorcerer my daughter weds,\n    Nor any of his kin.\u201d\n\n  An aged man, whose snowy beard\n    Upon his breast flowed down,\n  White as the wool by furze-brake torn\n    Upon the moorland brown\u2014\n\n  An aged man, with robe of wool,\n    Bordered by silver band\n  Throughout its length, sat by the king,\n    Upon the king\u2019s right hand.\n\n  Unto the royal ear he bent\u2014\n    He bent, and whispered low;\n  Then did the king his sceptre raise,\n    And struck a sounding blow\u2014\n\n  A blow upon the table thrice,\n    That all the field might hear:\n  It hushed the crowd to silence, while,\n    With voice both loud and clear,\n\n  Thus spake the king: \u201cSo bring thou me\n    The harp of Merlin old,\n  Which by four chains hangs by his bed\u2014\n    Four chains of finest gold:\n  If Merlin\u2019s harp thou bring to me,\n    My child, perchance, shall marry thee.\u201d\n\nIII.\n\n  \u201cGood grandmother, I pray give heed,\n  And counsel me in this my need:\n  My heart is broken!\u201d \u201cOh, indeed!\n  Hadst thou not set at naught my rede,\n  Thy hap had met with better speed.\n  Poor grandson mine! Yet weep not so:\n  The harp shall be unbound, I trow.\n  A golden hammer here behold,\n  No sound rings from its stroke of gold.\u201d\n\nIV.\n\n  \u201cNow fair befall this palace high,\n    And joy to all therein!\n  Behold, with Merlin\u2019s harp I come,\n    Which scarce I hoped to win.\u201d\n\n  When the king\u2019s son these tidings heard,\n    Low to his sire spake he:\n  And thereupon thus said the king,\n    To that bold youth and free:\n\n  \u201cIf thou from Merlin\u2019s own right hand\n    Safe unto me shalt bring\n  The ring he wears, Linor is thine\n    When I receive the ring.\u201d\n\nV.\n\n  He went his way, and, weeping, sought\n  His grandame, with new care distraught:\n  \u201cBehold, the king his word hath spoken!\n  Behold, the king his word hath broken!\u201d\n\n  \u201cNay, fret thee not: there is small need;\n  Only, to that I bid, give heed:\n  My little coffer open thou,\n  And take thereout a slender bough,\n  Whereon twelve glittering leaflets grow:\n  Like fiery gold they gleam and glow.\n  \u2018Tis now full seven years agone\n  Since seven woods I searched, alone,\n  On seven nights, at darkest hour,\n  Ere I could win that plant of power.\n  When you the midnight cock-crow hear,\n  Your red horse waits: speed forth, nor fear:\n  In slumber deep will Merlin be;\n  So fear thee not: good speed to thee!\u201d\n\n  When loud the cock at midnight crowed,\n  The red steed bounded on the road;\n  And ere his notes he ceased to sing,\n  The youth had borne away the ring.\n\nVI.\n\n  Ere dawn had brightened into day,\n    He stood the king beside,\n  Whereat the king in wonder gazed,\n    Silent and stupefied.\n\n  And all with him: \u201cHis wife, behold,\n    He verily has won!\u201d\n  The king retires a moment, with\n    The old man and his son.\n\n  Anon the king returns, and still\n    The two are at his side:\n  And thus he spake; \u201c\u2018Tis true, my son,\n    That thou hast gained thy bride;\n\n  \u201cYet is there one adventure more\n    Which thou must undertake;\n  When that is sped, my son-in-law\n    Forthwith I thee will make.\n\n  \u201cThe princess Linor shall be thine,\n    And all the country fair\n  Of L\u00e9on I bestow for dower;\n    This, by my race, I swear.\n\n  \u201cDo but the thing which I demand,\n    (And this the last shall be:)\n  To celebrate the marriage, bring\n    Bard Merlin unto me.\u201d\n\nVII.\n\n  \u201cO Merlin, Bard, alone, forlorn,\n  With all thy garments soiled and torn:\n  O Merlin, Bard, whence comest thou,\n  With weary step, with clouded brow,\n  Bareheaded and barefooted? Say;\n  And whither wouldst thou wend thy way?\n  Thy holly staff can barely stay\n  Thy bending form, thou Druid gray.\u201d\n\n  \u201cAlas! To seek my harp I go:\n  Best solace that my heart can know\n  In this world. I am wandering\n  To seek my harp, to seek my ring:\n  Both have I lost: no more I sing,\n  But wearily am wandering.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNay, then, O Merlin, grieve not so;\n  Yet shalt thou find thy harp, I trow:\n  Thy harp and eke thy golden ring;\n  So cease awhile thy wandering.\n  Enter, O Bard, and rest thee here,\n  And taste a morsel of my cheer.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNay, pray me not: I will not stay,\n  Nor pause upon my weary way;\n  I will not cease my painful quest,\n  I will not eat, I will not rest,\n  Until I seek no more in vain:\n  Until my harp I find again.\u201d\n\n  \u201cHear me, O Merlin, and obey:\n  In sooth, thou wilt not long delay\n  Thy harp to find. Come in, I pray,\n  A little space, nor say me nay.\u201d\n\n  She so besought, so urged him, till\n  Her wily wit had worked her will.\n\n  With night approaching, home there came\n  The grandson of that ancient dame;\n  And when he drew the hearth anear,\n  Back started he with sudden fear;\n  For there Bard Merlin sat at rest,\n  His head low bowed upon his breast:\n  Yes, there forsooth sate Merlin gray;\n  And he?\u2014how should he flee away?\n\n  \u201cHush, grandson mine! fear naught; in deeps\n  Of slumber most profound he sleeps.\n  Eaten has he red apples three,\n  On the hot ashes cooked by me.\n  Whither we list we now may fare,\n  And he will follow everywhere.\u201d\n\nVIII.\n\n  In early morning, ere the queen\n    Had risen from her bed,\n  Her waiting-lady to her side\n    She called, to whom she said:\n\n  \u201cWhat in the city has befall\u2019n?\n    And what the noise, I pray,\n  That shakes the columns of my bed,\n    Ere yet \u2018tis dawn of day?\n\n  \u201cAnd what has happened in the court?\n    And wherefore do the crowd\n  With eager tumult thus press on\n    With joyous shouts and loud?\u201d\n\n  \u201cIt is that all the town is glad,\n    And keeping holiday,\n  Because unto this palace high\n    Bard Merlin comes to-day;\n\n  \u201cAnd by his side an aged dame\n    In robe of white wool fair:\n  The royal son-in-law, behind,\n    Follows the ancient pair.\u201d\n\n  This heard the king, and ran to see:\n    \u201cHaste thee, good crier arise!\n  Rise from thy bed: make speed: proclaim\n    The feast in gallant wise.\n\n  \u201cMake proclamation through the land,\n    And summon great and small\n  Alike, to keep the marriage feast,\n    And make high festival.\n\n  \u201cCome all who will, come high and low:\n    The daughter of the king\n  Affianced eight days hence will be\n    With the betrothal ring.\n\n  \u201cBid to the nuptials nobles, lords\n    Of ancient Brittany,\n  Dukes, marquises, and judges grave,\n    And all of high degree.\n\n  \u201cBid churchmen, warriors, and knights;\n    But summon first of all\n  The great crown-vassals of the land:\n    The rich, the poorest, call.\n\n  \u201cRun, messenger, the country through,\n    With diligence and speed;\n  To hasten quickly thy return\n    See that thou give good heed.\u201d\n\nIX.\n\n  \u201cGood people all two ears who own,\n    Wide open let them be,\n  And silence keep\u2014keep silence all,\n    And hearken unto me.\n\n  \u201cHearken to that which is ordained:\n    The daughter of the king\n  In eight days hence betroth\u2019d will be,\n    And wear the \u2018spousal ring.\n\n  \u201cCome to the nuptials all who list,\n    Rich, poor, or great, or small;\n  Churchmen and judges, counts and knights,\n    The king inviteth all.\n\n  \u201cNothing to you shall lacking be,\n    Nor silver bright, nor gold,\n  Nor meat, nor bread, nor hydromel,\n    Nor wine, for young and old,\n\n  \u201cNor seats for you to sit upon,\n    Nor valets quick to wait.\n  Two hundred bulls, two hundred swine,\n    Will be served up in state.\n\n  \u201cTwo hundred heifers, and of roes\n    One hundred from each wood\n  Throughout the country, oxen white\n    And black, two hundred, good;\n\n  \u201cWhereof the hides shall equally\n    Be shared among the guests;\n  And there will be a hundred robes\n    Of white wool for the priests.\n\n  \u201cA hundred chains of burnished gold\n    For warriors brave and true;\n  And for young girls a roomful gay\n    Of festal mantles blue.\n\n  \u201cEight hundred nether garments good\n    For folk of poor estate,\n  And seemly gifts for every guest\n    Or be he small or great.\n\n  \u201cA hundred skilled musicians there,\n    Each seated in his place,\n  Music will make, by day and night,\n    The festival to grace.\n\n  \u201cAnd in the midst of all the court,\n    With fitting pomp and state,\n  Merlin the Bard that marriage high\n    Will duly celebrate.\n\n  \u201cIn short, the feast will all surpass\n    That e\u2019er have been before;\n  Nor will there be in time to come\n    Its equal evermore.\u201d\n\nX.\n\n  \u201cChief of the royal kitchens, say,\n    The marriage, is it done?\u201d\n  \u201cFinished, and paid for; and the guests\n    Departed every one.\n\n  \u201cFor fifteen days the feast was kept\n    With gaiety and glee,\n  Then, laden with rich gifts, the guests\n    To go their ways were free,\n\n  \u201cAll with protection from the king;\n    And thus, with joyful heart,\n  To L\u00e9on with his royal bride\n    Did the king\u2019s son depart.\n\n  \u201cAll are gone hence, well satisfied;\n    Not so the king alone:\n  Merlin the Bard is lost again,\n    And whither is he gone?\u201d\n\nIt is believed that Merlin was assassinated, but popular tradition has\nnot suffered the mysterious bard to die.\n\nThe story of the conversion of Merlin in his old age comes down to us\nfrom very early times, and has been sung by the Christian bards of\nWales, Armorica, and the Gaelic clans. The following ballad, as well\nthe foregoing fragments relating to Merlin, is still sung in Treguier,\nand other parts of Brittany.\n\nCONVERSION OF MERLIN.\n\n  S. Kado walked the forest maze,\n    Through many a darkling dell:\n  S. Kado walked thro\u2019 the forest green\n    Ringing his clear-toned bell;\n\n  When out from the shade of the ancient trees\n    A phantom bounding sprang;\n  But still S. Kado went his way,\n    And still his clear bell rang.\n\n  The phantom\u2019s beard was like lichen gray\n    Spread o\u2019er an ancient stone,\n  And its restless eyes, like boiling water,\n    Glitter and danced and shone.\n  \u2018Twas Merlin the Bard that Kado met,\n    That S. Kado met this day,\n  With fiery eyes that wildly glared,\n    And beard so long and gray.\n\n  \u201cIn Heaven\u2019s name, I bid thee, phantom,\n    Tell me who art thou?\u201d\n  \u201cA bard was I when in the world,\n    To whom did all men bow.\n  If I into the palace came,\n    A joyous crowd pressed round,\n  And gleaming gold fell from the trees\n    When my harp began to sound.\n\n  \u201cMy country\u2019s kings all loved me well;\n    And strange kings held in fear\n  The mighty bard with harp of gold,\n    To Brittany so dear.\n  Now in the woods I dwell alone:\n    Men honor me no more.\n  Grinding their teeth, there pass me by\n    The wolf and fierce wild boar.\n\n  \u201cMy harp is lost; the trees are felled\n    From whence dropped glittering gold;\n  The kings of Brittany are not;\n    The land to strangers sold.\n  \u2018Merlin the fool!\u2019 now shout the folk,\n    And pelt, with scoffings bold.\u201d\n\n  \u201cPoor innocent, return to God,\n    Who pity has on thee,\n  And rest thy weariness on him\n    Who died on Calvary.\u201d\n\n  \u201cAh, then in him I will confide,\n    Will he but pardon me.\u201d\n  \u201cPardon from him do I pronounce:\n    The Blessed One in Three.\u201d\n\n  \u201cA cry of joy my heart sends forth,\n    To honor heaven\u2019s high King;\n  And through eternal ages I\n    His praise will ever sing.\u201d\n\n  \u201cGo, Christian soul, and may his angels\n    O\u2019er thee spread their wing.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n\u201cFOR BETTER\u2014FOR WORSE.\u201d\n\nTHE mother of a family of three children sits musing while she mends\ntheir clothing which lies heaped upon a table beside her. The pile\nhas lowered slowly under her patient and busy fingers during the long\nafternoon. The slanting sun now shines across her bowed head while she\nstill continues her work. It touches up the homely furniture of the\nroom with a glow richer than the gilding of art, and lends to the place\na cheerful aspect which does not accord with the mood of its occupant.\nShe is a woman of about twenty-four years, with considerable claim to\nbeauty in her regular features and dark, intelligent eyes. But there is\na look of discontent on her face, and a querulousness in her voice, as\nshe occasionally reproves the noisy children playing about her. Yet the\neyes wear a patient look, in spite of the discontent expressed, and a\nsort of hushed resolve seems stamped upon her features, as if, whatever\nis the trouble with which she battles, no acknowledged recognition of\nit shall find vent. Nature, however, has her way, and that which the\nvoice refuses to utter the eye often betrays, and there will be found\nlines written upon the human face which those who study physiognomy may\ntranslate. It is the chirography of the soul. She writes upon the face\nas upon a tablet, often also extending the characters to the whole of\nthe frail temple she occupies, leaving her traces in motions of the\nhands, carriage of the head, the very posture of the body, and in the\ngait, so that all are eloquent of her subtle influence. How often a\npure pious soul, dwelling on heavenly things, recoiling from grossness,\nand courting all that is divine, praying fervently always not to be\nled into temptation, but delivered from evil, glorifies a plain face\ninto a seraphic beauty which makes the beholder wonder whence comes\nthis loveliness! We see plain features. We wonder that this face should\nplease as much as it does, forgetting the soul\u2019s high mission. We see\nnot the lamp behind the screen of flesh: we only see the effect of\nthe rays. Again, we see faces where nature has done much to beautify,\nand where a soul not delivered from evil has written such ugly marks\nthat the fair tablet is disfigured with blots and stains of sinful ink\nflowing from the pen held in the grasp of passion.\n\nWhence comes the writing on the face of this mother sitting in the\ngolden sunshine, doing the work which mothers are usually content to\nperform? She is striving as best she may with a lot in life distasteful\nto her, but from which she sees no means of escaping, and, indeed,\nas yet does not dream of trying to escape. This lot is that of being\nmarried to a man of coarser nature than her own, who seldom sympathizes\nwith her in anything at all above the most grovelling interests.\nWhy she married him seems to her now an ever-unsolved puzzle, a\nnever-ceasing source of regret. If she had read the lines, she might\nconclude with the poet that it was \u201caccident\u2014blind contact and the\nstrong necessity of loving.\u201d Not being acquainted with that answer\nto her riddle, she blames fate and her own inexperienced youth, and\nthe need of a home and protection at a time when her own heart had\nnot yet asserted its rights. Now, she knows she does not love her\nhusband, and she thinks she hates him at times. Not that he is cruel,\nnot that he is unfaithful\u2014he is neither of these; but he is narrow,\njealous, exacting, unintellectual, and coarse; while she is aspiring,\neven poetic, in her nature. Fond of the beautiful, seeking it in every\nway, cultivating her intellect as best she can against the odds of a\ndeficient education, limited means and time, and overtaxed strength of\nbody, she longs for a better position in life. Care has fretted, if\nnot furrowed, her fair white forehead already; yet still she reaches\nout and clings to every refining influence. All books that have\nfallen in her way she has read, stealing the time from toiling hours\nalready filled to overflowing with household work. On this particular\nafternoon, there lies among the stockings she is mending a poem of\nWhittier\u2019s, which has taken such a hold upon her fancy and morbid\nfeeling that the discontent deepens and the hunger of her starving\nheart gnaws more sharply than usual. This poem, _Maud Muller_, read so\ngaily by the happy many, with pleasure at its pretty conceits, allies\nitself so to this woman\u2019s experience that it finds an echo she cannot\nsilence, in the lines\u2014\n\n  \u201cShe wedded a man unlearned and poor,\n  And many children played round her door;\n  But care and sorrow and childbirth pain\n  Left their traces on heart and brain.\u201d\n\nAlthough she has never had any other lover, or even a passing fancy for\nany other man, save some vague ideal of some one different from her\nhusband John Thorndyke, as she reads:\n\n  \u201cAnd for him who sat by the chimney lug,\n  Dozing and grumbling o\u2019er pipe and mug,\n  A manly form by her side she saw,\n  And joy was duty, and love was law,\u201d\n\nshe seems to herself the heroine of the poem, and John Thorndyke the\nvery unpleasant companion portrayed. And yet no thought of escaping\nfrom what she considers her \u201cshackles\u201d obtrudes upon her musings.\nShe is a severe Puritan in her education and faith, and thus far has\nescaped the base free-thinking and \u201cfree-love\u201d tendencies of the day.\nMarriage, disagreeable as it has proved to her, seems still, if not\na sacrament, a binding, honorable state, to be borne with according\nto her promise, \u201cfor better or for worse.\u201d She has been married by\nan Episcopal clergyman, because it had been most convenient, and her\nhusband had preferred that form; and thus her spoken promise has always\nseemed to her yet more definite. \u201cFor better for worse, for richer for\npoorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till\ndeath us do part.\u201d That sounds always to her like a doom. Joy is not\nduty, and love is not law, in her case; but she patiently takes \u201cup her\nburden of life again, saying only, \u2018It might have been.\u2019\u201d\n\nBut in her lonely heart, she has one pure God-given instinct to glorify\nher otherwise gloomy religion, and ennoble her dull, hard lot. This\nis charity in its loveliest form\u2014a disposition for nursing the sick\nand attending to the needy\u2014a positive vocation for the work, which\nshe does from enthusiasm, not from cold duty. Ever her willing hands\nminister to the suffering, and often is she called to watch through\nlonely nights at their bedsides. In this way, her acquaintance has\nextended far beyond her husband\u2019s sphere of life. Often in the houses\nof her neighbors, both rich and poor, are her skill and kindness called\ninto requisition. Tact and cleverness, and, above all, a willingness\nto help in time of need, soon make a woman appreciated and respected\namong those by whom she is surrounded, and so it happens that her own\nlife presents itself to her in sharper contrast with the lives of other\nwomen.\n\nThat unsatisfied hunger at her heart gnaws more and more, and her\nhusband grows to her more and more repulsive; but while he repels her\nthus, and every tendril of her nature reaches out vainly for supporting\nstrength, she fails not in any duty as wife and mother. While her heart\ncalls vainly, her conscience is answered and obeyed in every exaction.\nCourting no admiration from others, even where willing tribute is paid\nto her beauty and refinement; dressing in Quaker-like simplicity, not\nonly in accordance with her limited means, but her own severe taste;\nleading a quiet, industrious life, Agnes Thorndyke is irreproachable,\nand esteemed by all who know her. The serpent coiled down in the\nshadows of her soul is waiting to rear its head\u2014waiting for an evil\nhand, an evil breath, to warm it into strength, that its venom may\npoison this pure life.\n\nThat evil hand, that evil breath, are coming, as they are always sure\nto come\u2014\n\n  \u201cWhen such thoughts do not come of themselves\n  To the heart of a woman neglected, like elves\n  That seek lonely places\u2014there rarely is wanting\n  Some voice at her side, with an evil enchanting\n  To conjure them to her.\u201d\n\n\u201cDeliver us from evil.\u201d How well our Lord knew the need of that\npetition for us! How wise the church to require its frequent use! It\nis the cry of the direst human need, in its last extremity, to its\nlast refuge. How will the evil come to Agnes Thorndyke? and how will\nshe be led into temptation? The gate is opened apparently by her very\nvirtues. While she sits brooding over the thoughts which Whittier\u2019s\npretty poem has suggested, her attention is aroused by a loud cry, and\nnoise of clattering hoofs and wheels. Running to the window, she sees\na crowd around a gentleman who lies bruised and senseless before her\ndoor, while a horse and shattered carriage are fast disappearing down\nthe street. Standing on her porch, elevated above the heads of the\nlittle crowd, she perceives that the stranger is not killed, but that\nhe must be cared for instantly. She calls to the men to bear him within\nher open door, that she may assist to dress his wounds, while a surgeon\nis summoned. This she does so deftly and so gently that the sufferer\nthanks her warmly, and the surgeon compliments her on her skill.\n\nThe man is not very dangerously hurt, but the doctor advises that he be\nkept very quiet for a time. At this the stranger looks perplexed, and,\ncasting first a searching glance about the room and over the person of\nMrs. Thorndyke, he says:\n\n\u201cIf I could be allowed to remain here for any remuneration which this\nlady would consent to receive, I would pay it willingly, and also\nconsider it a great favor. I am a stranger in the place. I had finished\nthe business for which I came, and I was hurrying to the railway\nstation, when this unlucky accident befell me, and threw me upon your\nkindness.\u201d\n\nHe looks now at Mrs. Thorndyke. She does not speak immediately, but\nseems to be considering the expediency of yielding to his request. Her\nquick sympathy shows her at once that it will be best for him not to be\ndisturbed.\n\n\u201cIf you cannot consent, Mrs. Thorndyke,\u201d says the doctor, \u201che had\nbetter be removed to the hotel above here.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray, no!\u201d interposes the patient. \u201cI came from there, and glad enough\nI was to leave it. It is a noisy, dirty, wretched place. Can\u2019t you\nthink of some better refuge than that?\u2014if I may not stay here.\u201d\n\nThere is peevishness in his tones while speaking to the doctor which\nsoften to a gentle pleading as he turns at the last words again to his\nhostess. It is not lost upon her. She is touched by his evident desire\nto stay, and equally evident need of quiet and rest.\n\n\u201cIf my husband does not object when he returns,\u201d she says, \u201cI will\nundertake to be your nurse; but I am afraid our plain house and ways\nwill hardly satisfy you when you are stronger.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! thanks\u2014a thousand thanks,\u201d he replies; \u201cno danger of any\nfastidiousness of mine standing in the way of my gratitude and content.\u201d\n\nAnd so it is arranged; for the pecuniary help which the stranger offers\nis not unwelcome to John Thorndyke in the growing needs of his family.\n\nThis stranger, Martin Vanderlyn, is a handsome man of thirty-five\nyears, with the kind of beauty and manner which takes captive the\nfancy of many women, yet which is really satanic; hard and cruel gray\neyes, but capable of a soft, imploring expression; dark hair; pale,\nclear skin; and tall, well-knit figure; a voice agreeable in most of\nits cadences, but with a treacherous note occasionally grating on the\near, though corrected quickly, as if he himself had felt it; inherent\nstrength, but not purity of purpose; persistent patience in executing\nhis own selfish and sensual will; apparent gentleness, and refinement,\nand culture, made subservient to his own desires; poetry, and flattery,\nand irreligion, and sophistry always on his lips and in his eyes\u2014such\nis the patient which it becomes Agnes Thorndyke\u2019s loving task to nurse\nday after day. In this dangerous companionship, this hungry heart finds\nsolace. \u201cLead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,\u201d should\nbe her constant prayer now. How can she help seeing his admiring eyes\nfollow her, and look into her own? How can she prevent the dangerous\nfamiliarity sanctioned by their relative positions of nurse and\npatient? Well he knows how to increase the ever-ready sympathy for his\nsufferings. Soon and easily he reads the disappointment in her life,\nand detects the cause. Is there no scruple of conscience, no emotion\nof gratitude, to stay him in his bad designs, framed and nursed on\nhis sick-bed during the very time she so tenderly cares for him? Not\none. Day by day he weaves the net and casts the toils about her so\nsurely that her whole manner towards her husband has changed to a\nquerulousness and impatience which speedily provoke a response of the\nsame nature; and discord and hatred sit in the place where once reigned\nduty and peace.\n\nJohn Thorndyke, although of a heavy, is also of a spiteful and jealous,\ntemperament. He has been, in his dull way, proud of his wife, and\nselfishly pleased at the comfort she has brought him. It has not\noccurred to him to try to brighten her life. Indeed, he has not known\nthat her life needed any cheer. He thinks that she is his, and all her\nduty is to him, and so long as he knows himself faithful to her, and\ngives her all the pecuniary support he can command as a mechanic, it\ndoes not occur to him that he fails in any respect. He has never even\nquestioned himself on that point. No misgivings apparently disturb his\nsluggish conscience. In this, he differs widely from his wife. She has\nsharply questioned her conscience, being perhaps dimly aware of the\nweak spot in the citadel, of the serpent coiled in the shadow. But as\nshe has never before given the slightest cause for his jealousy, she\nhas not been even suspicious of how terrible a sway it can have over\nhim. Even now she does not read the signs aright, being blinded by her\nown new infatuation.\n\nIn the meantime, Martin Vanderlyn is convalescent, and making himself\nmore and more interesting to her. He addresses her always with so much\nrespect and courtesy that it is a continual flattery to her; for this\nwoman has her vanity under all her severe simplicity of garb and mien,\nand to be recognized as being superior to her position in life is the\nstrongest\u2014or _weakest_\u2014desire of her heart. To so regard her is to\nflatter her more surely and insidiously than to praise her beauty or\nher grace.\n\nSitting one day over her sewing, she is suddenly surprised by the\nremark from Vanderlyn, who has been silently studying her: \u201cMrs.\nThorndyke, you are not happy.\u201d\n\nShe looks up with a sort of frightened expression, as if detected in\nsome crime. After a moment of deprecating, silent supplication in her\neyes, she responds with the commonplace question, quite at variance\nwith her look and manner:\n\n\u201cWhy do you think so?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause,\u201d he says, \u201cI am a physiognomist, and I have been studying\nyour face until I can read it as I would a book; and a more eloquent\nbook could not be found.\u201d\n\nThe last words are spoken in a softened voice which makes her blush and\nkeep her eyes steadily averted. She has not been used to compliments\nbefore his advent, and cannot toss them off or return them lightly.\nShe feels guilty now at liking this so well. Looking steadily at her\nmeanwhile, and pleased at her embarrassment, he says, \u201cI have read in\nthis book that your life is not a happy one, and I am not surprised\nat reading it. Perhaps my own past experience has made me quicker at\ntranslating the language of your book; for, Mrs. Thorndyke, I have not\nbeen happy myself, and I think your discontent springs from a similar\nsource.\u201d\n\nAgain that deprecating look, as if battling with her conscience, which\nwhispers to her that the cause of her trouble should not be avowed or\neven tacitly admitted. Complaint against her husband should not be\nmade to Martin Vanderlyn, above all. There is already too dangerous a\nsympathy between them. A subtle intuition tells her that she is being\nled into temptation, and that she ought to end this now and for ever.\nYet she does not do so. The serpent in the shadow has even now warmed\nand stirred. Curiosity, also, concerning Mr. Vanderlyn\u2019s former history\nleads her to encourage him to proceed; so she says, \u201cI am sorry to hear\nthat your life has not been, a happy one. I had thought of your leaving\nus to go to brighter scenes and kinder friends.\u201d\n\nShe has pondered over the absence of any communication with friends\nor relatives during his illness, and so this last remark is not quite\ntruthful. She has often wondered if he has ever had wife or lady-love.\nHe answers all this by his reply to her last words:\n\n\u201cI am glad that I cannot return to the unhappy time I speak of. That is\nclosed for ever. It was when I had a wife, Mrs. Thorndyke; I have none\nnow.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is dead, then,\u201d says Agnes, looking up, and speaking in a low\nvoice which she instinctively feels should not seem sympathetic with\na grief he evidently disavows, for it is rather a relief which he\nconfesses.\n\n\u201cI know not,\u201d he says, with a careless tone; \u201cshe may be, for aught I\nknow or care. She is dead to me, and I know I feel quite dead to her.\nWe are divorced, and I am a free man again. To that unhappy time of\nmy life I cannot return. The chains are broken. It was a woeful time.\nI can imagine no surer blight on a human being\u2019s happiness than an\nunsuitable marriage. I know how it poisons a life, because mine, for a\ntime, was so poisoned. I think if there is any hell, my marriage was\narranged there by the prince himself, who is particularly interested\nin the marriage question. I think divorces are made in heaven, not\nmatches, for my relief on getting my divorce was heavenly. The\nsacrament of divorce for me! The feeling it gave me was that which old\nJohn Bunyan ascribes to Christian when the pack of sins fell off his\nback.\u201d\n\nHe speaks with an audacity which frightens her Puritan prejudices,\nwhile it lures her feminine admiration for his courage in daring to\nspeak out and assert himself. There is some romance here also, and a\nsubtle flattery in being made his confidante. For to her more delicate\nsense, this, which he would brazenly declare to any one who might\nlisten, seems a sacred confidence. Her face looks her sympathy. The\nanswering chord is struck, and he sees it. The serpent has stirred to\nthe evil breath.\n\n\u201cDo you not think, Mrs. Thorndyke, that we have the inborn right to\nseek our own happiness? Has not nature implanted that feeling within\nus? Are not our lives a continual protest against being made miserable\nor uncomfortable for the sake of sustaining a law of church or state?\nThe law of love is above these, and it can glorify a life, or the\nabsence of it can debase one.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd joy was duty, and love was law,\u201d echoes in Mrs. Thorndyke\u2019s\nmemory; and here is the \u201cmanly form by her side.\u201d\n\nHe continues without pause: \u201cIf it is our right to pursue happiness, it\nis equally our right to seek our love freely, casting off fetters which\nlove disdains; they chafe his delicate wings\u2014love cannot live bound.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he must be, to some extent,\u201d she almost gasps, frightened at this\nnew and dangerous doctrine. \u201cSociety, respectability, require that\nthere should be a marriage bond by which the law can hold either party\nto the contract. Else what would become of us? So many would escape who\nhave no right to do so.\u201d\n\n\u201cI doubt that they have no right to escape. The very desire for escape\nconstitutes the right. If the law of love is there, no escape will be\ndesired.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; but, Mr. Vanderlyn, in many instances, the possibility of escape\ncauses a desire for it; and where there is no way of escape, the\ninevitable is accepted. \u2018What can\u2019t be cured must be endured,\u2019 you\nknow.\u201d And there is a mournful cadence in her voice, a drooping of her\nhead and eyes.\n\n\u201cThat is just the cruel part of it,\u201d he says\u2014\u201cthat freezing endurance\nsitting like a vampire on our hearts.\u201d\n\nShe puts her hand up suddenly to her heart, and clutches at her dress\nnervously, as if to hide the vampire hidden there. Is it not rather a\ntightening of the serpent\u2019s coil? The next moment she is composed, and\nashamed of the momentary effect his words have caused in her outward\nmanner. He has seen the motion, however, but gives no evidence of it.\nAs if absorbed only in his own remembrances, not desiring to stir up\nhers, he continues:\n\n\u201cI speak as one who knows and has felt, not as one who deals with\nthe cold abstractions of theologians and political economists. We who\nknow through bitter tasting of the cup are the true philosophers. Our\neyes have been opened, and we see the light. We no longer grope in the\ndarkness of the middle ages. We cast off the chains forged for us ages\nago. We will be free in our love, and in our beliefs or disbeliefs,\nfor creeds are chains. Do not let me shock you, my gentle Puritan. I\nbeg your pardon. Do not look at me so reprovingly, I cannot bear it.\nRemember I am a sick man still, and you are my good, sweet nurse. You\nmust not grieve me with your displeasure. It is bad for me, you know.\nYour frown makes me unhappy\u2014come, smile on me.\u201d\n\nAh! such idle, easy, words for him to speak\u2014such dangerous ones for\nher to hear! None such ever fall on her ear from John Thorndyke\u2019s lips,\nand, if they should, they would not please her so from him. She knows\nthis only too well, and that this man ought not to have the power to\nplease her so easily. But she allows herself this pleasure, arguing\nthat her life is bare enough.\n\n\u201cDo you forgive me enough to care to hear my story?\u201d he says, after a\npause.\n\n\u201cOh! yes,\u201d she answers; \u201cI am interested in that which has so colored\nyour feelings on this subject, and has given you such strange views of\nlaw and religion.\u201d She tries to speak it lightly, but he detects the\ninterest in himself. It is what he wishes.\n\n\u201cIt is not much of a story,\u201d he says. \u201cI was married very\nyoung\u2014attracted and deceived by a pretty, saintly face, such as one\nsees in pictures, and which always pleases youth. I found my saint to\nbe a stubborn bigot, who put her confessor above me, and set me and my\nhappiness entirely at naught in computing her debit and credit with\nher church. Such selfish looking after one\u2019s own interest in the next\nlife is to me disgusting. Every generous impulse must be stifled for\nthat end. The certain present is offered up a victim to the uncertain\nfuture. I and my happiness had to be forgotten in prayers, penances,\nfastings and foolishness. Bah! it sickens me to remember it. Enough\nthat, after bearing every discomfort, I sought a divorce, and _took_\nit.\u201d\n\nHe says the last in a strange tone, which long afterwards she recalls.\n\n\u201cHad you no children?\u201d she asks.\n\n\u201cYes, one; but it died, happily for it. I should not have liked to see\na daughter of mine trained in that church, as of course she was doomed\nto be had she lived. That alone would have goaded me to madness\u2014to see\nthe fastings and prayings duplicated. Two at it, against one.\u201d\n\nHere the conversations ends, and Agnes Thorndyke takes \u201cup her burden\nof life again,\u201d with an added protest against it. How she wishes that\nshe could cut the cords, and let it fall like Christian\u2019s pack! Poor\nJohn Bunyan! \u201cto what base uses has he come at last!\u201d Christian\u2019s pack\nof sins made to represent the sacrament of marriage! But if \u201cthe devil\ncan quote Scripture for his purpose,\u201d he will not scruple to use John\nBunyan\u2019s quaint fancies.\n\nAbout this time, Mrs. Thorndyke begins to have her attention drawn to\ncertain vile papers and periodicals of the day, introduced cautiously\nat first, and with some discrimination, as if the better (or rather,\n_less bad_) ones have been selected. She finds them lying about Mr.\nVanderlyn\u2019s room, and she reads them without comment, but the seeds\ntake root. Afterwards Mr. Vanderlyn calls her attention to certain\ncleverly written but mischievous articles; flattering her intellect\nby appealing to her supposed ability to decide on these abstruse\nquestions. When he finds that she reads with avidity all he procures,\nfaster and thicker the vile flood, which disgraces the press and the\nname of literature, pours in upon her. Here she is almost defenceless.\nWith no thorough education, no religious influence to penetrate into\nher life, and guard her against this assault, she is left to stem this\ntorrent of sophistry, to answer these devil\u2019s thoughts penned too often\nby the hand of her own sex. It is a sad but significant fact that, in\nthis sort of vile writing, women, when they do stifle their better\nnatures and take up unclean pens, excel the other sex. Some of the most\ndangerous books of the day are written by females, under the guise of\npretended morality, which deceives silly girls and weak women who read\nthem and are unable to detect the poison under the honey. Alas! that\nwomen should thus prostitute their intellects in the service of the\ndevil!\n\nWhen a woman of Agnes Thorndyke\u2019s stamp can be found reading long\neditorials in a paper devoted to the destroying of the marriage\nrelation, and to the advance of \u201cfree-love\u201d principles, alas! for the\nhappiness, the very legitimacy, of her children! But what cares Martin\nVanderlyn for any such considerations? To corrupt this woman\u2019s nature\nand to win her is his present and sole object, and so he calls to his\naid all those of her own sex as well as of his, who dip their pens in\nenvenomed ink for mercenary ends.\n\nBut John Thorndyke has become jealous, and, being so, he is not\na more agreeable husband. He soon signifies his desire that Mr.\nVanderlyn shall find for himself some other lodgings. In doing this,\nhe expresses himself so coarsely, and hints so broadly at the cause of\nhis displeasure, that it increases the very danger he seeks to avoid,\nby forcing an understanding and recognition of the situation between\nhis wife and her patient. This is just what Mr. Vanderlyn desires. He\nwishes Agnes Thorndyke to know him to be her lover, long before he\nwill dare to avow it to her. Well he knows that he must prepare her\nfor that, lead her step by step up to that avowal; and he knows that\nshe may recoil at any moment, and turn out from the slippery path\nthrough which he is leading her. Too many good instincts and habits of\nearly training are warring with the bad teachings he is so assiduously\nimplanting, to make his task a perfectly easy one. Now that John\nThorndyke has shown his jealousy so plainly, these two cannot look\ninto each other\u2019s eyes without knowing there is some cause for it.\nThey cannot ignore it, and, while Mr. Vanderlyn is preparing to leave,\nhe improves the opportunity to remark how unhappy he is at the sad\nnecessity. He tells her how pleasant it would be if he could continue\nto pass all his days with her; and at last, finding himself unreproved,\nhe asks if that is not possible?\n\nAt this she does recoil, with a wild and frightened look like that of a\nhunted deer. But he knows that it is the first shock which either kills\nor leaves the victim able to bear another. Her mind has taken in the\nfull force of the proposal, and yet she does not send him at once from\nher presence. She only says, \u201cHow can it be possible?\u201d admitting by the\nvery question that she might like it to be possible.\n\n\u201cLeave him, Agnes,\u201d he says, \u201cand come to me\u2014to me, your adorer\u2014I\ncan appreciate the jewel of which he knows not the value!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I am his wife, and I cannot be that to you; so, if not that,\nnothing, Martin.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; you can be a wife to me, Agnes, if you must be tied by the law.\nThe law will soon free you as it has freed many another. Cast off your\nchains as I cast off mine, and come to me!\u201d\n\nHe holds out his arms as he speaks, and she goes to them. The serpent\nhas coiled almost his last coil!\n\nIn no relation except that of wife can this woman be persuaded to live\nwith Vanderlyn; but the law may be perverted, her marriage contract\nbasely set aside and broken. \u201cFor better, for worse\u201d she has taken\nJohn Thorndyke, and she has plighted him her troth; but she will not\nhave the worse, and her troth she will not keep. Yet the law must make\nher _seem_ a wife, even in this degradation. So it is agreed that\nsteps shall be taken to obtain a divorce, Vanderlyn\u2019s money being at\nher service. It is so agreed, but not without many struggles on her\npart. If she is not a loving wife, she is a tender mother. This new\ninfatuation cannot crush the true maternal instinct in her heart. It\nrequires the wildest assurances on Vanderlyn\u2019s part that the law will\ngive her the control of her children, and that he will care for them\nand educate them as if they were his own, to keep her from receding.\n\nVanderlyn is no longer an inmate of her house, but he hovers around her\nneighborhood, seeing her during her husband\u2019s absence, upon which she\ncan always count for a certain number of hours every day. He writes to\nher letters which seem to her gems of poetry and eloquence, but which\nare really only fulsome flatteries, and sophistries of a godless school\nwhich he studies and copies. He knows that it is necessary to keep her\nmind always clouded by these false arguments, and her vanity fed by\nthese protestations, because she is not by nature prone to the falsity\nto which he is luring her. This woman with a better husband, or even\nwith a worse husband, and better religious teaching, could not have\nbeen so tempted. She is no syren, no coquette; it really needs much\ncareful tact, and study, and address on Vanderlyn\u2019s part to make her\ntake the first steps in this path.\n\nThe children seem to be her guardian angels now. In their innocent\nhelplessness there is great strength. Vanderlyn often wishes them in\ntheir graves, for it seems to him, chafing in his vexation, as he\nrepeats,\n\n  \u201cBaby fingers, waxen touches, press me from the mother\u2019s breast,\u201d\n\nthat these are rivals indeed, which may yet laugh him down and bring\nher rest, unless he is unremitting in his efforts to prevent it.\n\nAs if in answer to his bad desires, scarlet-fever prostrates them all\nat once, but drives him, for the time, from the thoughts of their\nmother. Wan and pale with watching, anxiety, and dread, Agnes weeps\nand prays over her little flock\u2014prays as she has not prayed for a\nlong while. Yet two are taken. The youngest darlings are buried in one\ngrave, leaving a boy of seven years to fill the empty places.\n\nFor a time, Vanderlyn almost thinks his game is lost to him, and that\nDeath has checkmated him; for the dead children, whose lives have\nseemed in his way, are even yet his most powerful opponents. So truly\ndoes Agnes mourn now, so bitterly reproach herself, that, if her\nhusband will meet her with any tender sympathy in this their common\nsorrow, some love for him may yet spring up, watered by her tears for\nchildren which were his as well as hers.\n\n  \u201cOh! the child, too, clothes the father with a dearness not his due.\u201d\n\nBut John Thorndyke is not the man to be tender and delicate to any\none whose grief takes such a form as hers. Her brooding melancholy he\ncalls \u201cmoping.\u201d Her silence and shrinking from every one, he speaks\nof as \u201cairs\u201d put on to disturb him. He thinks the loss is his as well\nas hers, and _he_ is not inclined to \u201cmope and take on so.\u201d He goes\nto his work every day as usual, and, although he does miss his little\nprattlers, to whom he has always been indulgent, the world does not\nseem all dark to him. He is utterly incapable of understanding how\ndifferently this blow affects her, and it chafes him that she does not\nbear it as he does. He cannot see that the very need of going to his\ndaily toil, of mixing with other men whose minds are not on his loss,\nand the leaving of his sad home every day, helps to dissipate much\nmorbid feeling which might cling to him were he obliged to stay at\nhome, as his wife is compelled to do. He never thinks of the greater\ndifference which it has made to her in every little change which the\nabsence of the children demands. The very lightening of her care and\ntoil for them leaves greater time and room to grieve. Her bereaved\nheart cries for love and sympathy in this her sorest need, and her\nhusband does not heed the cry; does not soften to her just at the time\nhe can save her.\n\nVanderlyn does not slight the chance of increasing his influence. He\nhas been jealous of these children living, he has feared their memories\nmay even now crowd him from the mother\u2019s heart, but he sees the need\nof some one to _appear_ at least to share her grief. She does not\nscruple to tell him how cold and unfeeling her husband is at this time;\nand thus she furnishes him with one more weapon in the contest he is\nwaging against her better nature. He plays now the part of tender,\ndevoted friend, rather than that of lover. He sees that just now no\nlover\u2019s image can obtrude before the angel faces always present to her\nthoughts; he has the tact and patience to wait and turn the present\ndigression ultimately to his favor. It may be that, after all, if\nthese children had lived, she never could turn entirely from her duty.\nBut this delicate attention to her now in her grief, contrasting so\nunhappily with Thorndyke\u2019s unfeeling, stupid impatience with her, is\nthe most dangerous temptation of all, because it wins her confidence in\nhis being a real friend as well as lover.\n\nWhen the first acute feelings have worn off after the children\u2019s death,\nand her life has gradually become more cheerful, she turns from her\nhusband with a bitterness and contempt which produce in him a still\nworse frame of mind. Now he taunts her for her assumed superiority to\nhim, and scoffingly pictures how happy she might have been with some\nrich man\u2014Vanderlyn, for instance. And so matters go on from bad to\nworse, until he consents to her applying for a divorce, seeming as\nwilling as she to part for ever.\n\nOf what use lingering over the details? The divorce is granted, as\nsuch things are, in open defiance of Heaven\u2019s decree and the apparent\nlaw of the land. When a New York daily paper has frequently a list of\ndivorces longer than its list of marriages, can we wonder over the\nfact? In this case, it has been necessary to change their residence\nfor a time, because the laws of one state are more favorable to this\nobject than another. But Christ\u2019s law is the same everywhere. Can a\ncouple be considered married to each other in one part of our country,\nand divorced in another? Are the children of a second union legitimate\nin one state, and illegitimate in another? It would really seem so.\n\nBut Agnes Thorndyke, or rather, Agnes Rodney, as she is now\ncalled\u2014taking back her maiden name, without her maiden heart\u2014is\ndeprived of one comfort on which she had surely counted. Her one child\nis left to its father. Thorndyke has schemed for this with deliberate\nmalice. It is not that he loves the boy overmuch, but it is his revenge\nupon her. He would rather burden himself with the care of this little\nchild than forego the pleasure it gives him to punish her. And so,\nwhile the father of her child lives, she lays her head on another man\u2019s\nbreast, and calls him husband. Vanderlyn is spared either the keeping\nor the breaking of his promise to care for her children\u2014two in the\ngraves where he wished them, and one in a strange woman\u2019s care. He has\nall he wished for\u2014John Thorndyke\u2019s pretty wife at last.\n\nThorndyke takes to his forsaken home a housekeeper at first, as if he\nwere a widower. This woman is a widow who makes him so comfortable that\nhe speedily marries her, without considering law or Gospel as they may\nbear on his case. No compunctions trouble her easy conscience, and she\naccepts the lot offered to her as the best thing in a business point\nof view likely to fall to her. Being disinclined for reading poetry,\nhaving no refined yearnings, having little intellect to cultivate, she\nnever reads _Maud Muller_, nor thinks of herself as out of her place\nin any sense. Being good-natured and not oversensitive, she gets along\nwith John Thorndyke remarkably well, and no thought of Agnes ever makes\na ripple of disturbance between them. She might be forgotten, except\nfor the boy, with her eyes and features, left in her old home. He calls\nthe woman in her place \u201cmother,\u201d and does get quite motherly treatment.\nHe loves the brothers and sisters who in time spring up around him, and\nseems as happy in his boyish plays as if his own mother were guarding\nand guiding him. Who can say how much his future life might be changed\nif that mother had been left to him? To be sure, her death might have\nbrought as great a change to him, and we will now only follow her fate.\n\nIs she happy in her new relations? Is joy her duty, and love her\nlaw, now? Can that ever be, after broken vows and outraged honor?\n\u201cIt is not in the bond.\u201d For a time she thinks herself happier in\nall her more refined associations; with leisure, books, servants,\nall at her command, and with Martin Vanderlyn devoted to her. He\ndoes not introduce her into society, but lives remote from all his\nacquaintances and former friends. This never troubles her. Two people\nlike these, who have closed or tried to tear out a chapter in their\nlife-history, naturally shrink from having it recalled. They prefer\nto think themselves sufficient for each other, looking always to the\nfuture\u2014never to the past, if they can avoid it.\n\nBut before a year is passed, Agnes begins to see that Vanderlyn is\nnot so entirely devoted to her as she would wish and he has at first\nseemed. It is the first shadow of a misgiving, not really harbored,\nbut resting upon her heart in spite of herself. She does not wish to\nsee any difference in him, and she tries to think it is business which\nkeeps him so often away from her. He says it is, and why not think so?\nwhy not believe him? Alas! small clouds of doubt already dot the sky of\nher belief in him. Whence they have arisen she can scarcely tell; but\nthere they are, and threatening to increase. However, she has risked\ntoo much for him, braved too much, to foster anything now which may\nwreck her life-venture. If this man fail her, where can she turn? But\nafter a while a little child is born\u2014a boy to help divert her thoughts\nfrom that other boy bearing another father\u2019s name. The mother does\nblush when she thinks of these boys, each hers, having each a different\nfather living _now_. She had named her first-born after her own father,\nand some idea of trying to fill his place leads her to call this one by\nthe same name\u2014George Rodney. Vanderlyn, however, playfully calls him\nMartin after himself, and, as the child grows, he learns to answer to\nthat, and calls himself \u201cMartie\u201d quite as often as by the name which\nhis mother has given him, and which she will never relinquish.\n\nSo truly does the pure instinct of motherhood show her the falsity of\nher present position that she often feels that two fathers should not\nbe living at the same time for the two boys for whom she is mother. Of\nthat other boy she often thinks still with yearning love, and of his\nsisters in their little grave; more now than at first, when Vanderlyn\nwas with her so much, for his absences grow longer and more frequent.\nHe takes no father\u2019s pride in this child of his, but rather seems bored\nby the care and trouble it has brought. A baby _is_ a tyrant in a\nhousehold, especially if it is loved as Agnes loves this one, giving it\nalmost all her time and care. Now, indeed, Vanderlyn might say, if he\nremembers the poet he quoted before in his jealousy of her love for her\nchildren:\n\n  \u201cNay, but nature brings thee solace; for a tender voice will cry:\n  \u2018Tis a purer life than thine\u2014a lip to drain thy trouble dry:\n  ... My latest rival brings thee rest.\u201d\n\nBut it does not bring her rest. She often now remembers that Thorndyke\nwas a fonder and better father than his successor; that his children\nseemed at their birth and during their lives to form a tie between his\nwife and himself; that he always faithfully brought his hard-earned\nmoney to her, to spend or save for them as well as for himself. She\ngives him this credit now, because Vanderlyn, with his more abundant\nmeans, shows in many ways a carelessness of her comfort and pecuniary\nwants. True, she has not really suffered, but small misgivings have\noppressed her that she may yet come to that. She has found that\nVanderlyn is not the substantial business man she was at first led to\nbelieve. She had thought him a lawyer, and so he is by education; but,\nin reality, he is an adventurer and a speculator, and, although often\ncommanding money easily, he has no real fortune, and has only a very\nfluctuating income. This it is that worries him and takes him often\naway from home long at a time. He has not the honesty to deny himself\nany accustomed luxury for the sake of those dependent upon him. It\nchafes him to be obliged to meet his household expenses, and not always\nhave the means to do so conveniently. He knows that Agnes will not\ninsist upon unnecessary expenditure, but he has not the courage to tell\nher frankly of his affairs. There is a respect for her in his heart\nin spite of all, and he knows that there is an uprightness about her\nwhich would lead her to insist on plainer living and fewer servants.\nShe is not weakly self-indulgent as he is. He is so unprincipled at\nheart that no tie, no obligation, can bind him when it once becomes\nirksome. He is a greater moral coward than the woman he has perverted.\nAnd so at last, when her boy is about five years old, Agnes finds\nherself deserted. Martin Vanderlyn has gone to California, and left\nher with her household effects, and about one hundred dollars in\nmoney\u2014that is all.\n\nShe looks her fate steadily in the face. Young enough and strong enough\nyet for work, but with a helpless child upon her hands, what shall she\ndo? She sells promptly her furniture, books, pictures, and jewelry. For\nthe last she has never cared, but Vanderlyn had lavished it upon her\nduring the days she was seeking a divorce. Very rarely has she worn it.\nWith the sum thus raised, she can, for a time, pay her board until she\ncan find employment, and she seeks the most retired house she can find\nfor a refuge.\n\nIn bitterness of spirit beyond anything she has ever endured while the\nhonest wife of John Thorndyke, Agnes now feels in almost overwhelming\nforce the folly of the course she has pursued\u2014_almost_ overwhelming,\nbut not quite, for she still believes herself to be Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s\nlawful wife. Bad as he has proved himself, she as yet has no doubt\nthat he is her lawful husband, and so, in her present abode, she calls\nherself Mrs. Vanderlyn, with no thought but that she is so honestly, if\nnot wisely.\n\nShe has been in her new home rather less than a week, when, passing\nalong the corridor, she meets, coming from a room near her own, two\nSisters of Mercy, who have apparently just taken leave of an invalid\nlady; at least, so she judges from the voice which comes through the\nopen door, saying:\n\n\u201cGood-by, and come again soon, Sisters,\u201d followed by a cough that to\nher experienced ear sounds like consumption. She has heard that cough\nin the night when she has been wakeful, and she hears it again many\ntimes this day. She thinks of the invalid often, with her old instinct\nof sympathy for the sick\u2014a sympathy which of late years has not been\nmuch called forth in her retirement. The next day, coming in from her\nquest for employment, she meets on the porch a gentleman who, she feels\nalmost sure, is a Catholic priest. He enters the house at the same\ntime with herself, and, proceeding before her up the stairs, passes\ndirectly and quietly to the room occupied by her sick neighbor. \u201cShe is\na Catholic, then,\u201d says Agnes to herself; \u201cbut that does not matter. I\nwonder if I could do her any good?\u201d And she acknowledges to herself a\nvery strong desire to see her neighbor, and offer any service in her\npower. But she does not act at once. Her peculiar position makes her\nshrink from meeting strangers or forming acquaintances. Still, the\ncough strikes upon her ear appealingly, all the more that there comes\nno sound of any voices from the room, save when the priest or the\nSisters of Mercy are there. She knows her neighbor must be alone, and,\nshe suspects, lonely also, for many hours. She resolves to go to see\nher, and take little George, thinking, in the fondness of her mother\u2019s\nheart, that his pretty ways may divert the sick woman.\n\nBut who is she, and what is her name? Agnes asks this of her landlady\nthe first time she finds that everbusy and worried woman alone.\n\n\u201cThe sick lady in the front room? Why, she is your namesake, perhaps a\nrelation.\u201d And the landlady eyes keenly her questioner, thinking her\ncuriosity about both of her boarders will now be gratified, as she\nslowly adds: \u201cShe is a Mrs. Vanderlyn, as well as yourself.\u201d\n\nAgnes feels herself trembling and almost choking at the swift rush of\nconviction coming over her as to who this Mrs. Vanderlyn is: The priest\nand the Sisters of Mercy! Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s wife was a Catholic! She\ncan hardly command her voice to ask:\n\n\u201cIs she a widow?\u201d\n\n\u201cI guess so, but she hasn\u2019t said so,\u201d replied the landlady. \u201cShe has\nno friends, except them horrid spooks of nuns and that there sneakin\u2019\npriest; I do declare I\u2019m ashamed to see \u2018em a-comin\u2019 in and out o\u2019 my\ndoor\u2014but _you_ be\u2019ent a Catholic, be you?\u201d she says, in sudden alarm,\nlest her burst of confidence has been misplaced. Agnes reassures her by\nsaying:\n\n\u201cOh! no; I am not a Catholic, nor is any of my family; so I think this\nlady can be no relative, as my husband was never a Catholic.\u201d\n\nWhat makes her voice change as she shapes her reply in this evasive\nway? It is not altogether the keen, inquiring eyes of the landlady\ntrying to find if she is wife or widow. She can scarcely tell herself;\nbut the sharpened sense of expectation of some coming revelation, or\nelse the nearness of Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s wife, makes her feel for the\nfirst time a sense of guilt in speaking of him as her husband. Not that\nshe says even to herself as yet that he is _not_ her husband; but the\ntwo wives\u2014if this is his wife\u2014in such close proximity, impresses her\nmuch as the fact of the two living fathers of her two boys has done.\nIt cannot seem to her quite right for herself to be Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s\nwife, while the woman in the next room is such a reality. As long as\nthe divorced wife had seemed to belong to the past\u2014perhaps dead\u2014it\nhad not impressed Agnes so keenly as to be living under the same\nroof with her; for Agnes feels almost sure that it is so. Still, her\ndesire to see her neighbor is by no means lessened; and it is not idle\ncuriosity, but a nobler feeling, which leads her to ask the landlady to\nintroduce her. That person has, in the meantime, remarked:\n\n\u201cThe lady is a real lady, and, if she _is_ a Catholic, I can\u2019t say\naught agin her. I do hate to see them beads, and crosses, and figgers,\nand picturs of folks with Saturn\u2019s rings on their heads, which she\nkeeps in her room; but, if she gits any comfort from \u2018em, poor soul,\nwhy, I can\u2019t begrudge her that. Only I wish she had more light and some\n_real_ religion, now that she\u2019s so near dyin\u2019. I do hate to see her\nsunk in darkness, without no light o\u2019 the Gospel. But \u2018tain\u2019t no use\ntalkin\u2019 to her, she never gits offended; but, when I wanted to send a\ngood Methodist minister to pray with her, she said her spiritooal needs\nwas already cared for by. Father what\u2019s-his-name, and she jist give me\nback that lovely tract about _Going to Hell_, as if she warn\u2019t scared a\nbit. \u2018Tain\u2019t no use, Mrs. Vanderlyn, to talk to her. They\u2019re all of \u2018em\nso set and superstitious they _can\u2019t_ experience religion or have any\nrealizin\u2019 sense o\u2019 their sins.\u201d\n\nSays Agnes: \u201cI don\u2019t want to minister to her soul. That is not my\nmission. I only thought she was lonely, and I might do her some good in\nbeing a little company for her some of the time, if nothing more.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd so you might, and it\u2019s right good of you to think of it. It\u2019ll\ntake some off my mind to know you\u2019ll see her sometimes, as I can\u2019t\nfind time to go in and sit with her as often as I think she may expect\nof me.\u201d\n\nAnd the landlady, followed by Agnes, taps at the door of Mrs.\nVanderlyn\u2019s room. In a minute more, Agnes finds herself face to face\nwith the invalid, who is sitting in a large easy-chair by the window.\nAfter some words from the landlady, explaining Agnes\u2019 kind intention\nand sympathy, that garrulous person withdraws to her pressing household\ncares.\n\n  TO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT NUMBER.\n\n\n\n\n\u201cBEATI QUI LUGEANT.\u201d\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF MARIE JENNA.\n\n  Go; vainly in thy breast lies hid the steel\n  That pierces. I perceive thy sad estate,\n  Thy silent fortitude; and for thy weal\n      I pray thee meet thy fate.\n\n  And weep before me! Cast thy burden down,\n  I know that sorrow finds a drear relief\n  In solitude, and wears abroad the crown\n      Of a majestic grief.\n\n  The hand of friendship may not put aside\n  The heavy folds of the funereal veil,\n  And on the threshold of an arid pride,\n      Words seem to faint, and fail.\n\n  But days have passed, I come\u2014nay\u2014never start,\n  Suffer my presence, place thy hand in mine,\n  Pour thy full soul into my faithful heart\n      Whose pulses all are thine.\n\n  If friendship only bore me to thy side,\n  I would withdraw before thine icy face,\n  Obey the teachings of my _human_ pride,\n      My eager steps retrace.\n\n  But I, too, have known sorrow, and have earned\n  The right to minister before its shrine.\n  A mighty secret, too, my heart has learned,\n      Whose sources are divine\u2014\n\n  A secret that shall set thy soul aglow\n  When once its holy meaning I unfold,\n  And make thee bless its author for the woe\n      That _thus_ could be consoled.\n\n\n\n\nJOHN BAPTIST DE ROSSI AND HIS ARCH\u00c6OLOGICAL WORKS.\n\nFROM THE HISTORISCH-POLITISCHE BLAETTER.\n\nTHE ruins that lie by the banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates give us\na better notion of the power of the kings of Babylon and Assyria, of\nthe civilization, religion, and moral condition of the ancient peoples\nof these countries, than the writings of historians. The obelisks and\npyramids, the ruined temples and the columns covered with hieroglyphic\ncharacters, tell us more of Egypt than Herodotus and Manetho. In like\nmanner do the tombs and inscriptions in the catacombs bear witness to\nthe faith and morality, the usages and manner of living, of the early\nChristians.\n\nThe study of these catacombs has therefore a double aim: one dogmatic,\nthe other historical. Considered from the latter standpoint alone,\nthe discoveries recently made in the catacombs destroy the theories\nand appreciations of many historians. It is literally true, as a\ndistinguished non-Catholic has said, that, \u201csince Rossi published\nhis works, the history of the age of the Christian martyrs has to be\nrewritten.\u201d The distinguished Alfred de Reumont, on page 806 of the\nfirst volume of his _History of the City of Rome_, says: \u201cNo one knows\nbetter than the author how much this work is indebted to the researches\nof De Rossi.\u201d\n\nThe pontificate of Pius IX., among its other glories, can claim that of\nhaving especially aided De Rossi in his arch\u00e6ological studies; and on\nthis account alone it would deserve the gratitude of all the friends\nof science. Pius IX. has deserved the name of the \u201csecond Damasus,\u201d\nnot only because he founded \u201cThe Arch\u00e6ological Commission for the\nInvestigation of the Ancient Christian Monuments of Rome,\u201d and aided\nit with pecuniary subsidies, but more particularly because he took a\nlively personal interest in all its undertakings.\n\nThe zeal of Pius IX. found in John Baptist de Rossi, a born Roman, a\nmost suitable person for the advancement of arch\u00e6ological lore. And,\nin fact, Rossi alone, as all acknowledge, made more progress than\nall his predecessors. Although he has been more than a quarter of a\ncentury at work, he is still a hale man; and if Piedmontese brutality\nor revolutionary barbarism does not prevent him, he may yet make\nmore splendid progress in his learned studies. Rossi has wonderful\npowers of observation, united with great calmness and perseverance in\ninvestigation, ardent love of science, and vast erudition. He is well\nversed in all the branches of his favorite science\u2014in arch\u00e6ology,\nbibliography, history, \u00e6sthetics, topography, and architecture. With\nkeen discernment, which his complicated investigations never lead\nastray, he knows how to choose and value his materials. We know\nnot which to admire more\u2014the persevering industry, or the great\nand unflinching mental and physical strength, which he displays in\nassorting the various materials which come before him. His judgment in\nforming hypotheses, in drawing conclusions and consequences, is always\nprudent. He prefers to prove too little rather than too much. On this\naccount, as well as because of his critical acumen, he has obtained\nsuch a reputation among arch\u00e6ologists that Martigny, in his _Dictionary\nof Christian Antiquities_, says: \u201cWe can rely implicitly on every word\nthat Rossi writes.\u201d Rossi never builds a card-house; he makes no vague,\nsuperficial reasonings. All is deeply thought; monuments and documents\nare always brought in to corroborate his assertions; and we know that\nnothing is more solid and convincing than the hard marble.\n\nIt is true Rossi has not published the half of his immense collections;\nbut from what has been published we can perceive that nothing so\nimportant has appeared in the arch\u00e6ological world since the time of\nBosio, perhaps never anything so vast from one arch\u00e6ologist.\n\nThe first great arch\u00e6ological work of Rossi appeared when he was yet\na young man. It was printed in the third volume of the _Spicilegium\nSolesmense_, published by the celebrated Benedictine Dom Pitra, now\ncardinal of the church. Rossi always quotes it with pleasure as his\nfirst work. The title is _A Letter on the Christian Monuments bearing\nthe Inscription \u0399\u03a7\u0398\u03a5\u03a3_. Paris, 1855.\n\nThe figurative and poetical style of the Sacred Scriptures, as well\nas the discipline of the secret, introduced into the \u201cChurch of the\nCatacombs\u201d those numerous symbols, so full of meaning, which, disguised\nin the simplest pictures or the simplest words, expressed so much to\nthe initiated. The lamb, the anchor, ship, the stag, peacock, the cock,\nthe dove, etc., were symbols of sublime Christian ideas. But the most\nimportant of all the Christian symbols was the _fish_. It is mentioned\nas a Christian hieroglyphic all through the works of the Fathers, and\nappears on all the old monuments. On these latter, sometimes the Greek\nword _\u0399\u03a7\u0398\u03a5\u03a3_ sometimes the painted, and some times the engraved, image\nof the fish, is found. During the period of the discipline of the\nsecret, especially during the first three centuries of the church, the\nmost holy mysteries of Christianity were concealed from the uninitiated\nunder the symbol of the fish.\n\nThe fish is the symbol of Jesus Christ. The Fathers before the IVth\ncentury insinuate this in obscure and ambiguous terms, while those of\nthe IVth and Vth centuries proclaim it plainly. Thus writes towards the\nend of the IVth century Bishop Optatus Milevitanus:[110] \u201cThe fish,\naccording to its Greek orthography, _\u0399\u03c7\u03b8\u03c5\u03c2_ expresses by its letters\na number of holy names, which in Latin are _Jesus Christus Dei Filius\nSalvator_\u201d\u2014Jesus Christ, Son of God, Saviour\u2014_\u0399\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 \u03a7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2 \u0398\u03b5\u03bf\u1fe6\n\u03a5\u1f31\u1f78\u03c2 \u03a3\u03bf\u03c4\u03ae\u03c1_. S. Augustine[111] expressly says that, if you take the\nfirst letters, of these five Greek words, and unite them together, you\nhave _\u1f30\u03c7\u03b8\u03c5\u03c2_, _i.e._ _fish_, which name is a symbol of Christ.\n\nSome ecclesiastical writers strive to connect the fish-symbol of Christ\nwith the Sibylline prophecies; other Fathers endeavor to find in it\ncertain analogies between the nature and acts of the fish and the human\nnature and works of Christ. The different passages of ancient writers\non these points are brought together in De Rossi\u2019s treatise. Rossi\nhimself has beautifully explained the origin of this symbol.\n\nThe fish is the symbol of Christ according to his human nature. In the\nfigurative language of the church, the present life is likened to a\nsea. _Ubique mare s\u00e6culum legimus_,[112] says Optatus Milevitanus.\nAmbrose calls men the fish who swim through this life. When the divine\nWord became man, he became a fish as we. Hence Gregory the Great wrote:\n\u201cChrist condescended to hide himself in the waters of human nature, in\norder to be captured by the angel of death.\u201d\n\nMore frequently the fish is used as the symbol of the divine nature of\nChrist. The large fish caught by Tobias that he might have food for his\njourney, use the liver and gall to free Sara from devils, and restore\nsight to his father, was considered by the Fathers as a striking symbol\nof the divine Redeemer, who by the light of his doctrine cures the\nblindness of ignorance, redeems the world from the power of demons,\nand feeds us with his body on the pilgrim route from earth to heaven.\nTherefore is Christ symbolized as Teacher of truth in his church; as\nRedeemer from the power of Satan by baptism; and as Food of souls in\nthe Eucharist.\n\nOut of the many beautiful and expressive symbolical representations of\nthe intimate connection between Christ and his church, we shall select\nonly the two figures numbered 104 and 105 in De Rossi\u2019s tract. In the\nmidst of a surging sea a fish is swimming, carrying on its back a ship,\nthe symbol of the church. It is the divine _\u0399\u03c7\u03b8\u03c5\u03c3_, who, according\nto his promise made to his church, carries her safely through the\nstorms of the world. The ship is managed by rowers, the hierarchy of\nthe church. The only pilot and leader of the ship is the Holy Ghost,\nrepresented by a dove sitting on the top of the mast. In order that\nno one may mistake the vessel, the scene of Christ giving the keys\nto Peter is painted in the foreground exactly as our modern painters\nrepresent it. In order to make this point clear, namely, that the Holy\nGhost is guiding the bark of Peter, the words _\u0399\u0397\u03a3_ (_\u0399\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2_) and\n_\u03a0\u0395\u03a4_ (_\u03a0\u03ad\u03c4\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2_) are written over the picture.\n\nMan is born the child of divine wrath: Christ frees him from\nSatan\u2019s power by baptism; makes him a child of God, a new man, a\n_neophyte_.[113] Now, as Christ the Fish scatters these his blessings\nin the baptismal font, it was called by the names of _baptisterium_,\n_illuminatorium_, and, more frequently during the time of the\ndiscipline of the secret, _piscina_, or fishpond. Therefore Bishop\nOriontius of Auch wrote in the Vth century: \u201cThe fish, born in\nthe water, is the author of baptism.\u201d Therefore were the oldest\nbaptisteries commonly ornamented with the picture of a fish (Rossi, p.\n3).\n\nIn many of the monuments collected by Rossi, near the word _\u0399\u03a7\u0398\u03a5\u03a3_ we\nhave also the word _\u039d\u0399\u039a\u0391_. The fish conquers. The neophyte is freed\nfrom ruin and the power of Satan\u2014he is a trophy of Christ\u2019s victory.\n\nSince the word fish, as well as the picture of it, was perfectly\nidentified with Christ the Redeemer, it was natural to use this symbol\nto conceal that mystery which the pagans so fearfully misrepresented\nwhen they said that the Christians met together at stated times,\nslaughtered a child, drank its blood, and ate its flesh.[114]\n\nThe fish became the symbol of the Holy Eucharist. This could be done\nwith the greater propriety, since Rossi tells us that, at the banquets\nof the wealthy pagans, fish was considered a delicacy, and it is seldom\nfound on pagan monuments. Hence, to eat _the fish_, and to receive\nHoly Communion, became synonymous expressions. Prosper of Aquitaine\ncalls Christ the great Fish, who gives himself as food to his disciples\nand the faithful.\n\nWe cannot enter into details, and shall only consider the monumental\ninscription found at Autun in 1839, which has attracted so much\nattention from the arch\u00e6ologists. The text begins with the words:\n_\u0399\u03c7\u03b8\u03c5\u03c3 \u03bf\u1f50\u03c1\u03b1\u03bd\u03af\u03bf\u03c5 \u03b8\u03b5\u1fd6\u03bf\u03bd \u03b3\u03ad\u03bd\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f24\u03c4\u03bf\u03c1\u03b9 \u03c3\u03b5\u03bc\u03bd\u1ff7 \u03c7\u03c1\u1fc6\u03c3\u03b1\u03b9_: \u201cO divine race of\nthe heavenly Ikthus, guard, after you have received it, the immortal\nfountain of grace flowing from divine sources. Bathe thy soul, my\nfriend, in the ever-flowing waters of wealth-giving wisdom. Receive the\nsweet food of the Saviour of the saints; eat and drink the Ikthus which\nthou holdest in thy hands.[115] O Ikthus, I have prepared my hands,\nI long for thee, my Lord and my Redeemer! That I may behold thee in\nhappiness, O my mother; I beseech this favor of thee, O light of the\ndead. Aschaudius, my father, thou dearest to my heart, with my sweet\nmother and my sisters, in the peace of the Ikthus remember thy son\nPektorius.\u201d\n\nThe first verse of this beautiful inscription which many of the learned\nin the time of Marcus Aurelius and at the end of the IIId century use,\nalludes to the grace of baptism; the following sentences refer to the\nsacramental use of the Ikthus. In the concluding phrase, the founder\nof the monument, Pectorius, addresses himself to his parents and\nrelatives, with the petition that they would remember him in heaven,\nwhere they enjoyed the peace of the Ikthus.\n\nFrom this important monument, as well as from many others collected\nby Rossi, it is proven that the Holy Eucharist was thought to be a\n_sacrament_ by the early Christians. In others, it is equally clear\nthat they considered it a _sacrifice_ also.\n\nIn one of the oldest cemeteries, that of Domitilla, as well as in\nthat of Callistus, we see a thrice sweet sacrificial table, on which\nthree loaves and one fish are lying. On each side of the table are\nseven baskets with loaves. The meaning of the picture is plain. The\nconnection of the Ikthus with the bread is clearly shown. \u201cThe table\nrepresents the Christian altar. This was usually a portable slab of\nmarble with brazen rings, placed over a martyr\u2019s grave, and supported\nby little columns. But what else could the Christian artist wish to\nsymbolize by placing the fish beside the bread than the offering of\nthe divine Ikthus on the altar? We have, therefore, on the one hand,\nthe invisible presence of the divinity in the fish; on the other, the\nvisible form of the bread, and then the position of the mysterious\nrepresentation. The sacrifice is the table of the Lord, the Eucharistic\nbanquet. To make this clearer, the seven baskets filled with loaves\nsurround the sacrificial table. They represent the seven baskets which\nwere filled with the remnants left after the multiplication of the\nloaves in the wilderness\u2014a miracle which has always been considered a\ntype of Holy Communion.\u201d[116]\n\nDom Pitra, in his _Spicilegium_, has added to Rossi\u2019s documents\nmany found in Gaul. Ferdinand Becker, in the _Historisch-Politische\nBl\u00e4tter_, vol. lxiii., p. 736 _et seq._, has written, since Rossi\u2019s\ntime, a remarkable article on the \u201cSymbol of Jesus Christ under the\nFigure of a Fish.\u201d Professor Jacob Becker has published something\non the same subject. Rossi naturally did not treat of the German\ndiscoveries in this line of arch\u00e6ology.\n\nIt is singular that the symbol of the fish continued to be used in\nGermany up to the middle age. In the _Hortus Deliciarum_ of the Abbess\nHerrad, written in the XIIth century, and still preserved in the\nStrasbourg Library, there is a representation of the sacrament of the\naltar, by means of a small basket with a loaf and a fish. In a picture\nin the cathedral library at Einsiedeln, there is the symbol of a fish\nwhose blood is represented as opening the gates of limbo.\n\nNorthern Africa, once so celebrated in the annals of the church, did\nnot escape the research of Rossi. L\u00e9on R\u00e9nier has collected, in a\nwork entitled _Roman Inscriptions of Algeria_, published at Paris,\nA.D. 1838, most of those documents which caused Rossi to\nundertake his second great work, _A Letter to J. B. Pitra, Benedictine\nMonk, on the Christian Titles found at Carthage_. These documents are\nvery important as explaining the symbol of the cross. The Christians,\nfor various reasons, were unwilling at first to represent the cross\namong their symbols. The cross was the _damnata crux_ of Apuleius,\nthe _infelix lignum_ of Seneca, the _teterrimum, crudelissimumque\nsupplicium_ of Cicero. The Christians, therefore, did not wish to give\nthe pagans an occasion of insult, nor to give scandal to the weak\nfaith of the catechumens. Prudent respect, as well as wise foresight,\ninduced them to conceal their most holy symbol in the interest of the\nprogress of faith. Consequently, as Rossi proves, we find the _cruces\ndissimulat\u00e6_ among the symbols, which, by their similarity with the\nreal figure of the cross, became Christian symbols, but, on account\nof their being also recognized as heathen symbols, excited no scandal\nor suspicion. Such concealed symbols, or _cruces dissimulat\u00e6_, are,\naccording to Rossi, the _Tau_ or crooked cross, the oblique or S.\nAndrew\u2019s cross, the anchor cross, and the monogram of Christ with all\nits varieties.\n\nThe oldest monogram is the simple _\u03a7_, the first letter of Christ\u2019s\nholy name. At a later period, the _\u03a7_ was united with the _\u0399_, the two\ntogether standing for _\u0399\u03b7\u03c3\u03bf\u1fe6\u03c2 \u03a7\u03c1\u03b9\u03c3\u03c4\u03cc\u03c2_. Before the time of Constantine,\nthe monogram was represented by the union of the Greek letters _\u03a7_ and\n_\u03a1_, the two first letters of the word _\u03a7\u03a1\u0399\u03f9\u03a4\u039f\u03f9_. After the conversion\nof Constantine, when the punishment of the cross was abolished, and all\nthat was offensive or scandalous in it removed, the symbol became more\nstriking by the introduction of a cross-line. In the second half of the\nIVth century, in spite of the Julian persecution, the symbol of the\ncross became more plain. But when Christianity, in and since the time\nof Theodosius the Great, took possession of the laws, and ordinances,\nand customs of the empire, the symbol became so clear that all could\nunderstand it. Therefore, after the end of the IVth century, and in the\nbeginning of the Vth, we find the simple figure of the cross on all\npublic monuments, without any attempt to conceal it.\n\nThe progress of this symbol of the cross was not so slow in development\nin some of the remote provinces as in the city of Rome and its\nenvirons. In some of the distant provinces, the power of paganism\nceased to control the people at an earlier date than in the city, and,\nconsequently, allowed the Christians to manifest their symbols without\nfear. This happened as early as the IId century in Northern Africa,\nwhere the Christians were powerful at a very early date. Rossi, in the\nsame work, gives us valuable documents and proofs to show the important\nplace which the symbol of the triangle should hold in arch\u00e6ological\ndisquisitions. It was a recognized symbol of the Holy Trinity.\n\nIt is a common custom among certain prejudiced modern writers to speak\nof the \u201chatred of the early Christians for art.\u201d By degrees, however,\nthe bandage begins to fall from their eyes, and the truth becomes\nclearer. To Rossi much credit is due for having labored to destroy this\nprejudice also. The attention of the early Christians was called to\nworks of sculpture rather than to works of painting. And this was quite\nnatural. The statues were mostly naked. And \u201camong the entirely naked\nAphrodites of the later Greek and Roman artists, there is hardly one in\nwhich the woman does not predominate over the goddess. Sensuality and\ngrossness are conspicuous in most of them.\u201d[117] Some of them also knew\nthat the Venus of Praxiteles, which he represented at first entirely\nunclothed, was copied after a model of Phryne.\n\nIt is different with painting\u2014after music and poetry, the most\nspiritual of arts. \u201cBy the blending of light and shade, and the laws\nof perspective, it can give a tone of spirituality to the bodily form,\nand an ethical appearance to the inanimate. Painting is the art of\nsoul impressions. Everything great, noble, and refined can be better\nexpressed on the canvas than in marble.\u201d The Christian muse, therefore,\nnaturally took to painting. Hence on the walls in the catacombs we find\nthe first efforts of the Christian painters. Likenesses of the Mother\nof God are among the first which we meet. These pictures, in which\nvirginal innocence, maternal tenderness, holy worth, tender grace and\npiety, are manifested, have been collected and published in 1863 in\nlarge chromo-lithographs in his work entitled _Imagine Scelte della B.\nVergine tratte dalle Catacombe Romane_.\n\nThe earliest likeness of the Mother of God is found in the catacombs\nof Priscilla. On account of the many likenesses of the Blessed Virgin\nfound in them, these have been called the Marian Catacombs. There is no\ndoubt that these pictures are of apostolic date, and originated with\nthat Priscilla who was known both to Peter and Paul, the mother of\nthe Senator Pudens, and grandmother of the holy virgins Praxedes and\nPudentiana. In the arch of the central crypt, the adoration of the magi\nis painted. The Blessed Virgin holds the Infant Jesus in her bosom;\nbefore her in the sky is the star whose light leads the three wise men\nfrom the East to visit the divine Child.\n\nIn another crypt is delineated the annunciation of the angel. The\nBlessed Virgin sits on a throne like the ancient episcopal chairs;\nbefore her stands the archangel as a beautiful, ethereal youth,\nwithout wings, dressed in tunic and pallium, his right hand raised,\nand the index finger of it pointed at the Virgin. In her face there\nis a look of surprise and holy, virginal shyness. On the ceiling of\nanother grave-niche, in the very oldest part of the catacomb, close\nto the graves of the family of Pudens, we find a painted picture of\nthe Virgin and Child in the pure classic style. Rossi, supported by\nthe most various arch\u00e6ological and historical documents, places this\npicture in the time between the second half of the Ist and the first\nhalf of the IId century. The Blessed Virgin, clothed with many-folded\ndrapery and cloak, bears on her head the veil usually worn by the\nmarried or betrothed. Over her hangs the star of Bethlehem; before her\nstands a young, powerful-looking man, with a prophet\u2019s mantle thrown\nover his shoulders. In his left hand he holds a scroll, and with the\nright he points to the star and the Virgin and Child. He is Isaias\nthe Prophet, pointing out the favored Virgin, the branch of the root\nof Jesse, who was to conceive and bring forth the blessed Fruit; and\nshowing the great light which was to shine over Jerusalem. The beauty\nof the composition; the grace and dignity of the figures; the swelling\nfolds of the drapery; and the correctness and spiritual beauty of the\nexpression, make this, although the oldest picture of the Madonna, one\nof the most striking which we possess. The elder Lenormant did not\nhesitate to compare it with Raphael\u2019s best productions.\n\nThe picture of the Madonna in the second table of Rossi is of more\nrecent origin. In this picture, the Mother of God sits on a chair of\nhonor, holding the divine Child in her lap. The three kings, led by a\nstar, come to meet her. It is from the cemetery of Domitilla. We omit\nthe other pictures of the adoration of the magi in the other catacombs\nof Callistus, Cyriaca, etc.\n\nThe assertion of the Calvinist historian Basnage, that the pictures of\nthe Blessed Virgin were not introduced into the church until after the\nCouncil of Ephesus, A.D. 431, sinks to the ground in the face\nof Rossi\u2019s documents.\n\nHe has collected in his works the chief inscriptions to be met with\nin the catacombs, and has surpassed all his predecessors in the\ncompleteness of his information and documents. Although, after the\ndiscovery and investigation of the catacombs by the celebrated Bosio,\nmany authors like Aringhi, Bottari, Boldetti, the Jesuit Lupi, Marchi,\nand others, had treated on them, and the relations of their contents to\ntheological sciences and ecclesiastical studies, none has equalled the\ndistinguished Rossi, whose ardor, energy, and talent were always aided\nby the most liberal sympathy of the Roman Pontiff.\n\n\n\n\nA LEGEND OF S. CHRISTOPHER.\n\nOFFERO (the bearer), afterwards S. Christopher, being proud of his vast\nstrength and gigantic limbs, resolved to serve\u2014for he was poor\u2014only\nthe most powerful monarch on earth.\n\nAccordingly, he searched far and near until at last he came to the\ncourt of a king who, as he was told, was the greatest monarch on earth.\nTo him Offero offered his services.\n\nThey were gladly accepted, for his powerful frame pleased the eye of\nthe king, who knew that no other prince could boast of such a servant.\n\nOffero, supposing his master to be afraid of no one, was greatly\nsurprised on perceiving the king tremble and cross himself, whenever\nthe name of Satan was mentioned. \u201cWhy dost thou do so?\u201d he inquired of\nthe monarch.\n\n\u201cBecause Satan is very mighty,\u201d replied his master, \u201cand I am afraid\nlest he should overcome me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I must leave thee, for I will serve only him who is afraid of no\none,\u201d said Offero.\n\nAgain he commenced his wanderings; this time in search of Satan. One\nday, on crossing a desert, he perceived a horrible object with the\nappearance of great power coming towards him. Offero\u2019s great size\nseemed not in the least to startle him, and with an air of authority he\nasked: \u201cWhom dost thou seek?\u201d\n\n\u201cSatan,\u201d Offero answered, \u201cfor I have heard that he is the most\npowerful upon earth. I wish to have him for my master.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am _he_,\u201d said the other, \u201cand thy service shall be an easy one.\u201d\n\nThe giant bowed low, and joined his followers.\n\nAs they pursued their way they came in sight of a cross. No sooner had\nSatan\u2019s eyes perceived it, than he turned with evident fear and haste\nand took another road, so as to avoid passing the cross.\n\nOffero was not slow in noticing these signs of alarm. \u201cWhy dost thou do\nso?\u201d he asked his master.\n\n\u201cI fear the cross,\u201d Satan made answer, \u201cbecause Christ died upon it,\nand I fly from it lest it should overcome me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen there is one more powerful than thou, and I shall leave thee and\nseek him,\u201d replied Offero. With these words, he left Satan and went in\nsearch of Christ.\n\nAfter much toil and long wanderings, he came to a hermit, whom he\nentreated to tell him where Christ could be found.\n\nThe holy man, seeing him thus ignorant, pitied and taught him. \u201cChrist\nis indeed the greatest king in heaven and on earth,\u201d he said, \u201cfor his\npower will endure throughout eternity; but thou canst not serve him\nlightly\u2014he will impose great duties upon thee, and he will require\nthat thou fast often.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not fast,\u201d said Offero, \u201cfor that would weaken my strength,\nwhich makes me so good a servant.\u201d\n\n\u201cThou also must pray,\u201d continued the hermit, taking no heed of the\ninterruption.\n\n\u201cI have never prayed and will never do so. Such service is for\nweaklings, not for me,\u201d replied the giant.\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said the hermit, \u201cdost thou know of a river whose waters are\nwild and deep, and often swollen by rains, sweeping away in its swift\ncurrent many of those who would cross it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Offero.\n\n\u201cThen go there and aid those who fight with its waves; carry the weak\nand little ones across upon thy strong, broad shoulders. This is good\nwork, and, if Christ will have thee in his service, he will assure thee\nof his acceptance.\u201d\n\nOffero went to the river, and on its banks built himself a hut. Day\nand night he aided all who came, carrying many upon his shoulders, and\nnever wearying in assisting them across the river. A palm-tree was his\nstaff, which he had pulled in the forest, and which was well suited to\nhis great strength and height.\n\nOne night, when resting in his hut, he heard a voice like that of a\nweak child, and it said: \u201cOffero, wilt thou carry me?\u201d\n\nHe rose quickly and went out, but, search as he would, he could find\nno one; and he re-entered his dwelling; but presently the voice\ncalled again: \u201cOffero, wilt thou carry me?\u201d A second search proved\nfruitless. At the third call he rose again, taking with him a lantern.\nHe searched, and at last found a child. \u201cOffero, Offero, carry me over\nthis night?\u201d\n\nHe lifted him up and began crossing the stream. Immediately the wind\ncommenced to blow, the waves rose high, and the roar of the waters\nsounded like thunder. The child also began to increase in weight,\ngrew more heavy upon his shoulders, and Offero feared that he must\nsink; but, with the aid of his staff, he kept himself up, and at last\nsucceeded in reaching the opposite shore. Then he cried: \u201cWhom have I\ncarried? Had it been the whole world, it could not have been heavier.\u201d\n\nThen the child replied: \u201c_Me_, whom thou desirest to serve, and I have\naccepted thee. Thou hast not only carried the world, but _him_ who made\nit, upon thy shoulders. As a sign of my power and my approbation of\nthee, fix thy staff in the earth, and it shall grow and bear fruit.\u201d\n\nOffero did so, and soon it was covered with leaves and fruit. But the\nwonderful child was gone. Then Offero knew that it was Christ whom he\nhad carried, and he fell down and worshipped him.\n\nThenceforth he called himself Christopher, served his Master\nfaithfully, holding fast to his new faith through all kinds of tortures\nand sufferings.\n\nKing Dagnus of Lycia, after having thrown him into prison, and not\nsucceeding in turning him from his faith, commanded that he should be\nexecuted.\n\nArrived at the place of execution, he knelt down and prayed that all\nwho saw him and believed in Christ, should be delivered from earthquake\nfire, and tempest. It was believed that his prayers were heard, and\nthat all who look upon the figure of S. Christopher are safe, for that\nday, from all dangers of earthquake, flood, and fire. The sight of it\nis believed also to impart strength to the weak and weary.\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n CHURCH DEFENCE. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\n \u201cOur Clerical Friends\u201d appear to be suffering pain from the strong\n sinapisms of Dr. Marshall. At least, we suspect they must be in pain,\n from certain suppressed, inarticulate cries and moans of the _Church\n Journal_, _Churchman_, etc. Their doctor is inexorable, however, and\n has already applied another blister. Their internal disorder is too\n deeply seated and obstinate to allow of any milder treatment. They\n have been seized with such a violent madness of fancying themselves\n priests and playing at Catholic that argument is lost on them, unless\n plentifully infused with ridicule. _Church Defence_ is unmerciful\n in its ridicule, like the _Comedy of Convocation_, but it is also\n perfectly genteel and polished in its style, and as overwhelming in\n argument as an essay by Dr. Newman. Those who have laughed over the\n sparkling pages of the classic _Comedy_, will enjoy another laugh\n over this new drama, and those who have been thrown into a rage by\n _My Clerical Friends_ will be at a loss for epithets wherewith to\n give vent to their pent-up bosoms when they read this new amiable\n discussion, which they will and must do, in spite of themselves. Dear\n friends and would-be Catholics, you might as well laugh with the whole\n world that is laughing at you! Your little farce is played out. It is\n a small business to be trying to cheat poor girls who are entrapped\n by your counterfeit Sisters, by pretending that you are Catholic\n priests and can give them sacraments. Something else is wanted besides\n acolytes and nicolytes, candles and high celebrations, mimicry of our\n sacerdotal dress, and high collars or high altars. You are outdone\n even in counterfeiting Catholicity by the little Greek schismatical\n chapel, where there is a better Signor Blitz than any of your feeble\n imitations. Do, if you please, try something new for the amusement of\n mankind, and let the curtain fall on the Anglo-Catholic farce!\n\n\n THE PROGRESSIONISTS, AND ANGELA. By Conrad von Bolanden. New\n York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\n The second of these novelettes by the most popular writer of fiction\n among the Catholics of Germany is really a charming story. The\n character of \u201cAngela\u201d is remarkably well drawn, and is the type of\n a perfect Christian woman, in the three phases which are so full\n of moral and poetic beauty, as maiden, bride, and mistress of the\n household. The first one is very different, dealing with incidents and\n scenes which are not so pleasing, but unfortunately equally real. As\n both are reprints from the pages of this magazine, our readers will\n remember them, and no doubt be glad to get them in a separate form.\n Those who have not read them will find them not only entertaining\n reading, but full of thought and instruction on most important and\n practical topics of modern life.\n\n\n LIFE OF J. THEOPHANE V\u00c9NARD, Martyr in Tonquin; or, What Love\n Can Do. Translated by Lady Herbert. New York: The Catholic Publication\n Society. 1873.\n\n LIFE OF HENRY DORI\u00c9, MARTYR. Translated by Lady Herbert. New\n York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\n These two works are translations from the French by Lady Herbert, for\n the benefit of S. Joseph\u2019s Foreign Missionary College at Mill Hill\n near London, to which she has been a warm friend and liberal patron\n from the beginning. Americans cannot help feeling a great interest in\n that institution, for the first band of missionaries it sent forth\n came to labor among the colored people of our Southern States.\n\n Nothing could be better calculated to stimulate the fervor of the\n aspirant to the missionary life than the example of these two young\n Christian heroes worthy of the primitive ages of the church\u2014worthy,\n it might be said, of the XIXth century; for never was there an age\n that required more firmness of purpose and constancy to the truth\n than this, with its glorious confessors of the faith in Asia, and as\n large an army of martyrs on the other side of the globe undergoing the\n slower torture of heart and soul that is far worse than that of the\n cangue.\n\n The lives of the two missionaries before us are affecting to the\n last degree. Every Catholic youth should read them, if not to fully\n emulate their example, to which all have not the happiness of being\n called, at least to catch something of the unworldliness and burning\n piety they manifested from their very childhood. Indeed, we wish\n everybody could read them, for there could be no better proof of the\n holy influences of the Catholic religion upon the young heart. We\n linger with admiration over the account of their boyhood overshadowed\n by their future martyrdom. One golden thread runs through their\n whole lives\u2014one constant aim\u2014the wish to win souls to Christ, and\n at last to gain the martyr\u2019s crown. And this intense desire for\n martyrdom was no mere youthful enthusiasm, as was proved when their\n lifelong prayer was granted. But amid all the self-denial with which\n they fitted themselves for their glorious destiny, nothing in their\n character is more striking than the tender affection\u2014passing ordinary\n human love\u2014apparent in their intercourse with their families, as\n if religion had refined every fibre of their hearts, and made them\n more keenly susceptible of love, of suffering, and of devotion to\n the service of God. They never allowed earthly affections, however,\n to come between them and their great aim in life. What angels of the\n sanctuary they were while preparing for the sublime functions of the\n priesthood! What a lofty conception they had of the sacrament of holy\n orders that consecrated them to a life of sacrifice! How joyfully they\n entered upon the life that promised them the radiant crown.\n\n  \u201cPrepared for virgin souls and them\n  Who seek the martyr\u2019s diadem.\u201d\n\n \u201c_Souffrir pour Dieu_\u2014To suffer for God\u2014will henceforth be my\n motto,\u201d said Henri Dori\u00e9, about to leave his country for ever.\n Everything at the _S\u00e9minaire des Missions Etrang\u00e8res_ was calculated\n to strengthen this desire for suffering. Old missionaries, who bore\n in their bodies the marks of the Lord Jesus, were their professors.\n Every day they went to pray in the Hall of Martyrs, around which\n are ranged the relics of those who have suffered for the faith in\n China, Japan, and the isles of the sea, together with the instruments\n of their martyrdom\u2014an appalling shrine at which to pray! And the\n whole room is crimsoned with the light diffused through the red\n hangings\u2014significant of blood and suffering.... Among other sacred\n articles in this hall is the blood-stained crucifix of Bishop Borie,\n whose interesting life has been written by the Rev. F. Hewit.\n\n One of the most affecting scenes related in these books is when a\n band of missionaries is about to leave for their field of labor. On\n the eve of their departure, the young apostles all stand before the\n altar\u2014victims ready for the glorious sacrifice\u2014and one by one the\n loved companions and friends they are to leave behind come up to\n prostrate themselves, and kiss the feet of these heralds of salvation,\n the whole congregation meanwhile chanting: _Quam speciosi pedes\n evangelizantium pacem, evangelizantium bona!_\u2014How beautiful are the\n feet of them who preach the Gospel of peace, of them that bring glad\n tidings of good things!\n\n M. V\u00e9nard went to labor in Tonquin. When the first missionary to that\n country\u2014a Dominican friar\u2014landed there in 1596, he found a great\n cross on that unknown shore, which seemed to prefigure what awaited\n those who should attempt to evangelize it. And to see how truly, we\n need go no further back than 1861, when, in the course of nine months,\n sixteen thousand Christians were martyred in only two provinces of\n Anam, and twenty thousand condemned to perpetual slavery. This was the\n year in which M. V\u00e9nard was martyred. The letter he wrote his beloved\n sister in his cage at midnight on the eve of his martyrdom has been\n styled by an eminent Frenchman \u201cone of the most beautiful pages of the\n history of the martyrs of the XIXth century.\u201d\n\n Henry Dori\u00e9 was sent to Corea\u2014the very name of which is symbolical to\n the Christian ear of persecution and martyrdom. The whole history of\n the church in that country is written in blood. Its first missionaries\n were all martyrs, its first bishop, its first converts. In one\n year\u20141839\u2014over eight hundred Christians were martyred, and a still\n larger number perished from want in the mountains where they had taken\n refuge. But M. Dori\u00e9 had but one desire\u2014when his labors were ended,\n to win the palm. His prayer was not denied him.\n\n It is thus the sufferings of Christ are daily perpetuated in some\n member of his body in various parts of the world. We should all have a\n share in this great sacrifice of atonement, according to the measure\n of our calling, if not by personal labors, at least by our prayers\n and contributions. England is taking up the foreign missionary work.\n America, too, should have her part in it. Such a work would react on\n our own hearts, and develop a self-denial and generosity that would\n constrain us more powerfully in promoting every good work at home.\n As Archbishop Manning says: \u201cIt is because we have need of men and\n means at home that I am convinced we ought to send both men and means\n abroad\u2014in exact proportion as we freely give what we have freely\n received will our works at home prosper, and the zeal and number of\n our priests be multiplied.\u201d\n\n\n THE MONEY GOD; or, The Empire and the Papacy. A Tale of the\n Third Century. By M. A. Quinton. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1873.\n\n _The Empire and the Papacy_\u2014a title of fresh significance in these\n days. It is remarkable how soon the Roman emperors realized that\n their authority could not exist in Rome with that of the pope,\n the importance of whose office became more and more apparent. The\n influence of the papacy gradually widened, and so asserted itself as\n to overshadow the very authority of the emperor himself. It excited\n alarm. Decius declared he would rather hear of a rival springing up to\n contest for the empire than of the election of a new bishop of Rome.\n How notoriously eminent must have been the dignity of that office to\n excite such jealousy! Was it the dread of this new mysterious power\n that led so many of the emperors to exile themselves, as it were, from\n their capital? Though pope after pope lived in Rome, and died there,\n even if by martyrdom, not one emperor from the time of Heliogabalus\n till Constantine ended his days in that city. One was killed in\n Germany, another strangled in Carthage, a third slain in Thrace, a\n fourth killed by lightning beyond the Tigris; not one died in Rome.\n And for more than a century and a half they resided elsewhere, hardly\n daring to show themselves in the capital, because they felt more\n and more their moral isolation in the midst of the Roman people.\n Diocletian went to Rome to be recognized as emperor, but returned\n to Nicomedia. When Maximian was made his colleague and assumed the\n government of Italy, he did not establish himself at Rome, but chose\n Milan as his residence. Constantine\u2019s great object, after triumphing\n over his enemies, was to leave Rome and found a new capital. \u201cThe\n same girdle could not enclose both the emperor and the pontiff,\u201d\n says M. de Maistre; \u201cConstantine gave up Rome to the pope.\u201d It was\n a moral necessity that the papacy\u2014a power \u201cfar above king, law, or\n popular right,\u201d should be free, and this has never been contested with\n impunity since.\n\n In the work before us, the contrasting influence of the empire and\n the papacy is exemplified in the history of two boys who were stolen\n from their mother in Thrace and sold at Rome as slaves. Separated in\n their childhood, one providentially fell into the hands of Agatho, a\n Christian hermit; the other gave himself to the service of Plutus,\n the \u201cMoney God.\u201d We wish, for the sake of the young into whose hands\n this book may fall, that the early history of Eva, their mother, had\n been somewhat veiled. It affords, however, a strong contrast between\n the violent, passionate courtesan and the subdued and humble Christian\n which she finally becomes. A confessor of the faith, she fully redeems\n her early career by a life of penitence. Her sad form gives relief\n to that of Plautia, a noble Christian matron. Tertullian tells us\n how much Christianity improved the condition of woman. No sage of\n antiquity ever thought of developing her spiritual nature and thereby\n giving her greater moral elevation, but the humblest Christian priest\n made this a duty. We have only to read the writings of the Fathers,\n particularly S. Jerome, to realize the great renovation that took\n place in woman\u2019s nature when her soul was awakened to higher aims\n and became conscious of a holier destiny. The _Acts_ of the early\n martyrs set before us some of the noblest types of womanhood. There is\n a grandeur in their unalterable serenity of soul under persecution,\n examples of which are given in the book before us. Indebted so greatly\n to the Christian religion, woman became its efficient supporter. We\n learn from Ammianus Marcellinus that the first popes were chiefly\n supported by the offerings of the Roman matrons. Their devotion to\n the service of the church is manifest from the jealous exclamation of\n Diocletian: \u201cI hate, as a usurpation of my powers, the influence of\n these Christian priests over the matrons.\u201d\n\n This tale of the IIId century evinces great familiarity on the part of\n the author with classical and antiquarian lore as well as the early\n Christian writers.\n\n\n THE NESBITS; or, A Mother\u2019s Last Request, and other Tales. By\n Uncle Paul. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\n The first of these stories and the principal one, _The Nesbits_, is a\n rapid sketch of the life and fortunes of a young American, none the\n less interesting and, it may be hoped, true to nature because the\n figure of the hero, Ned Nesbit, is exactly the reverse of the \u201cYoung\n America\u201d of the popular imagination. He is honest, manly, truthful,\n and religious; and it may be a surprise to some readers to find that\n those unusual characteristics of \u201cYoung America\u201d neither make him\n insipid nor offer an insurmountable barrier to his success in life.\n The scenes of the story shift from the backwoods to New Orleans, from\n New Orleans to Mexico. There is plenty of fresh air, of sea and sky,\n pleasant bits of Mexican scenery and vistas of Mexican life; there are\n camping out and long rides and \u201cbrushes\u201d with the Indians, hit off\n rapidly, and though in an unpretentious style, one admirably adapted\n to its purpose. There is a pleasant and harmless little love-plot\n that Uncle Paul\u2019s chief readers\u2014the young folk\u2014are likely to vote\n \u201cslow,\u201d but they will find plenty of other things more congenial to\n their sanguinary tastes scattered throughout the book, while the tone\n is thoroughly Catholic from beginning to end. The second story of the\n volume\u2014\u201cThe Little Sister of the Poor\u201d\u2014is a sketch, condensed from\n the French, of a little hunchback, who, finding her deformity rather\n an obstacle to her walking pleasantly in the ways of this world, and\n that even a dower of 10,000 francs did not serve to smooth it down,\n finally hides it away in religion, and becomes \u201ca little sister.\u201d The\n story would be very entertaining only that it may tend to strengthen\n the stupid idea so prevalent among non-Catholics, that the nun\u2019s\n habit is a good covering for personal deformity, and that a convent\n is a sort of receptacle for ladies who can \u201cdo no better\u201d: whereas,\n God culls his flowers where he wills, and women in convents are just\n the same as women anywhere else, with the exception that they have\n devoted their lives entirely to God\u2019s service. In his last story\u2014\u201cThe\n Orphan\u201d\u2014Uncle Paul has struck upon a vein which might be worked with\n as much profit as interest. It is a short, indeed too short, sketch\n of a thing that a few years back was of very common occurrence in\n this country. An Irish emigrant girl finds herself suddenly bereft of\n her parents, and placed in the keeping of a Protestant family. The\n author has made her position superior to that of the generality of\n her sisters under similar circumstances; she is a ward rather than a\n servant, and among friends rather than enemies to her race and faith.\n But even so, she finds herself, young and friendless, placed amid\n the thousand difficulties of Protestant surroundings. Her triumph\n over them is very touchingly told. The idea contained in this story\n might be worked to much greater advantage; and the tracing up some of\n those poor children who were snatched away and buried among heretical\n families, which, even if acting with the very best intentions, might\n consider the religion of these orphans something they were bound to\n abolish, would form a sadly interesting story, and one which would\n take in much of our recent Catholic history in this country.\n\n\n WILD TIMES. A Tale of the Days of Queen Elizabeth. By Cecilia\n M. Caddell. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\n This is a new and handsome edition of a story which, though it came\n out some years back in London, is probably unknown to very many of our\n readers. It is just one of those books which Catholics sadly stand\n in need of to adorn and grace their, to a certain extent, cumbersome\n literature. Miss Caddell has been fortunate in her choice of _Wild\n Times_, and _Wild Times_ have been fortunate in Miss Caddell. The\n period of the Reformation forms for the Catholic of to-day the most\n interesting one of English history; and recent researches, such as\n are exhibited in F. Morris\u2019 late books (_Our Catholic Forefathers_,\n and _The Condition of Catholics under James I_.) and others similar,\n are bringing that particular period home to us with a clearness and\n fulness of knowledge which tend to make us acquainted with all the\n intricacies and common details of life, particularly Catholic life\n in those wild times, as we are with the humdrum life of to-day. Miss\n Caddell\u2019s story is really the history of one of the very few noble\n English Catholic families who stood firm to their faith in that dark\n hour, and who, for the simple reason of being true to their God, were,\n according to law, false to their sovereign and country. The chief\n characters are two young brothers, Sir Hugh and Amad\u00e9e Glenthorne, the\n latter a Jesuit educated on the Continent, and returning by stealth\n to the work of the ministry, which at that time meant martyrdom; the\n former a fiery, high-spirited English gentleman, whose hot blood and\n lofty aspirations cannot run tamely in the dismal groove set him by\n the \u201claw,\u201d because he happens to be a Catholic, but who, when the\n hour of trial comes, and he is weighed in the balance, is not found\n wanting. Around these two, with their charming sister Amy, the plot\n gathers; and the tracing of their fortunes and misfortunes makes a\n most beautiful and moving tale. There are plenty of other characters\n in the book: Blanche Monteman, Hugh\u2019s betrothed, and Guy, the lover\n of Amy, both Protestants, give occasion for some very skilfully\n constructed complications; and the proud nature of the girl, and the\n terrible fall of that pride, are given with what the lady author may\n allow to be called a masterhand. There is also a weird gipsy queen,\n Ulrique, who turns out eventually to be something quite different,\n powerfully drawn, whilst the premature death of the mischievous little\n imp, Tom Tit, is as touchingly told, if not more so, as that of Little\n Paul Dombey. To enter into the plot of the story further than has\n been done would be to deprive the reader of _Wild Times_ of half the\n pleasure of a story so skilfully woven that the interest is sustained\n to the very last line, and its development hidden until the author\n chooses to disclose it. The style is of the purest, occasionally\n rising to the strongest, English. Miss Caddell has mastered the old\n forms, without making them as wearisome as some of Scott\u2019s Northern\n dialects cannot fail to be to the unhappy uninitiated. The love in\n the story is by no means of the namby-pamby order, but good, and\n honest, and true; in a word, manly and womanly in the true sense\n of those words; and though mainly carried on between Catholic and\n Protestant, it serves for that very reason to heighten the interest of\n the story, and as here depicted seems a very natural thing in those\n wild times; whilst one has the hope all through that earthly love will\n blend with a higher. The gradual change effected in the blunt, fiery\n character of Hugh by the chastening hand of affliction, under which\n at first he chafes till you fear for him, but finally rises with all\n his strength of character to the heroism of a Sebastian, is as ably,\n though naturally and unconsciously, developed as anything the writer\n remembers seeing in this style of book. The only thing he quarrels\n with is the preface. Without being dogmatic on the point, it is very\n doubtful whether, \u201cwhen the queen\u2014Elizabeth\u2014ascended the throne,\n Catholicity was still the religion of the great masses of the people,\n and was either secretly followed or openly professed by a large half\n of the noblest families in the land.\u201d English history scarcely bears\n this out; and had only one-half the noblest families in the land been\n even secretly Catholics, still less such Catholics as Hugh Glenthorne\n and his brother, England would never have sworn by a goddess in\n petticoats, and Mr. Froude would never have felt compelled to write\n his history. Again, when the author speaks of \u201cthe brightest and\n bravest of the band who form a halo of glory round the throne of Queen\n Elizabeth,\u201d the reader involuntarily asks himself, What band? And the\n very question is its own answer. Still, a notice is not for a preface;\n and however one may quarrel with that, with the story itself no fault\n can be found. It is a beautiful, high-toned, moving picture of noble\n Catholic struggle, suffering, and death, drawn evidently with infinite\n pains and after historic study, and with that highest art which is\n nearest nature.\n\n PETER\u2019S JOURNEY, AND OTHER TALES. By the author of\n _Marion Howard_ and _Maggie\u2019s Rosary_. WILFULNESS AND ITS\n CONSEQUENCES. By Lady Herbert. New York: The Catholic Publication\n Society. 1873.\n\n The little book before us is intended for a premium-book for schools,\n and is admirably adapted to this purpose. The stories are thoroughly\n natural, and written in a good, healthy Catholic spirit. They are\n calculated to reach the masses in the most satisfactory way which\n could be chosen, that is, through their children. A great deal is\n constantly said about the authority of parents in the home, but\n we should not forget the immense and preponderating element of\n the children\u2019s influence on their parents. This, if used in the\n right direction (which means, if guided in that direction by the\n teacher) may become of the utmost importance. It may civilize many\n a half-savage unfortunate who seems dead even to the stings of his\n own conscience; it may turn to serious reasoning the mind hitherto\n careless, because not exercised on spiritual things; it may shame\n into decency a character not irredeemably bad, but overgrown with the\n evil habits of half a century. In _Peter\u2019s Journey_, or a drunkard\u2019s\n dream, we see put into plain words the devil\u2019s plea against the victim\n of intemperance. He claims him as his own by _fair barter_. \u201cWhen\n thou didst ask for drink, did I not ask thee in return, not only thy\n wife\u2019s affection, thy children\u2019s happiness, thy home\u2019s comfort, but,\n more than all, did I not demand thy soul? _I asked thee openly, and\n thou didst willingly agree...._ Well, didst thou not have the drink,\n morning, noon, and night? _And if so, shall I not have my price in\n full?_\u201d This is a dark, but far from overwrought picture. Yet the\n mercy of God is greater than even such malicious sins, and till the\n very last the \u201cpearly shadow\u201d of his angel guardian protects the poor\n sinner. Peter awakes, and a sudden reformation is at hand. The poor\n wife, breaking down under her troubles, is weary and fretful, but\n Peter does not heed this, and in his stormy exit is only stopped by\n the baby, who is \u201cexamining the handle [of the door] with an attention\n worthy of an amateur locksmith.\u201d Peter raised it in his arms, looked\n at it for a moment, and then, kissing it almost reverently, gave it\n to Mike and clumped down-stairs. \u201cPoor Norah hoped he had not got\n _delirium tremens_.\u201d It was a long time before Peter came back; when\n he did, it was behind the rampart of a large basket bursting with\n eatables. He goes down on his knees to his wife and begs forgiveness\n in the most charmingly abrupt and natural way, and when Norah recovers\n from a fainting-fit, everything is bright and happy again. \u201cCertain\n it is that, when the _Angelus_ rang, it found them sitting side by\n side, shelling peas, and the baby on his knee, chuckling over a stick\n of rhubarb that it expected every one to smell every five minutes.\u201d\n And what is the end? A triumph for Peter, and a hopeful example for\n all those who are honestly trying to follow in his footsteps. \u201cIn\n the whole parish there is not a cleaner house, better children, or\n a happier wife than Peter\u2019s.... He collects the subscriptions for\n the schools, takes the money in church, carries the big banner at\n processions, and seems to do the work of half a dozen men made into\n one.... Is there a drunkard to reclaim, Peter is the man to take him\n in hand, depend upon it. Is there a drunkard\u2019s widow struggling with\n her little ones alone, Peter will help her and put her in a way to get\n her living ... and he thanks God for all things, for his home, his\n little ones, his means of doing good, but, more than all, he thanks\n him for his wife Norah, and for a journey he took, of which he never\n speaks, on the Feast of S. Peter and S. Paul.\u201d\n\n Of the \u201cother tales,\u201d we much prefer \u201cA Carpenter\u2019s Holiday.\u201d\n The evils of bad companionship are here depicted, the absurd\n temptations which human respect thrusts in the path of young and\n often weak men, the manliness and true Anglo-Saxon spirit which even\n outsiders recognize in a firm refusal to yield to such temptations.\n The character of Sam is very interesting, and the history of his\n conversion quite a natural one. A lesson here and there is worth\n taking from it. For instance, the Catholic carpenter says to his\n friend, \u201cPeople talk so much about our flowers and candles that really\n one would think they was a great part of our religion, _and, as it\n is, they\u2019re just nothing_.\u201d The old lesson of the example of converts\n is also well put forward. The end is, of course, an introduction to\n an earthly paradise, in the shape of a snug little farm, \u201cthe house\n hidden by roses, jasmine, ivy, and honeysuckle ... a dear, large,\n old-fashioned garden, with its apple and pear trees, its currant\n and gooseberry bushes, and its bed of flowers and cabbages, never\n thinking, as grand people\u2019s flowers and cabbages seem to think, that\n they are not fit company for each other.\u201d We are inclined to think\n that, if all discontented, restless people believed this sort of thing\n to be the inevitable reward of virtue, they would immediately become\n virtuous and leave off being discontented and restless. _We_ should,\n at any rate. And if this kind of life was the ending to which all\n good carpenters who spent their early holidays properly had a chance\n of attaining, why, then, we should be much freer than we are from\n trades-union strikes and International Associations. \u201cThe Carpenter\u2019s\n Holiday\u201d is the story most full of human interest and natural incident\n among all the little group by the author of _Maggie\u2019s Rosary_.\u2014We now\n come to Lady Herbert\u2019s story of _Wilfulness_. This is an extract from\n the diary of a Sister of Mercy, and reveals one of the many phases\n of silent misery of which a large city is always full. The story is\n interesting if only as a picture of the heroism, the sacrifices,\n the sufferings, and the charity of people in humble, struggling\n circumstances, who could never hope to have their virtues set before\n an admiring public, and whose only motive was evidently the love of\n God and reverent trust in his divine providence. The last days of\n the heroine are touchingly told, her unselfishness in behalf of her\n father especially. \u201cEvery shilling which had been given her to spend\n in the little comforts so urgently required, had been hoarded up by\n her for this long-expected situation, when she was determined that her\n father\u2019s appearance should do no discredit to his kind recommender.\n \u2018Only think,\u2019 she continued, \u2018I had enough for everything but one pair\n of boots, and I could not conceive where that eighteen shillings was\n to come from. But I set to work and prayed one whole night for it,\n and the next morning a young priest came to see me, and brought me a\n sovereign, which he said a gentleman had given him that very day to\n give to his first sick call!\u2019\u201d\n\n TWO THOUSAND MILES ON HORSEBACK. A Summer Tour to the Plains\n and New Mexico. By James F. Meline. New York: The Catholic Publication\n Society. 1873.\n\n This is the fourth edition of this excellent book, which is now\n published by The Catholic Publication Society. As we noticed this book\n at some length in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for February, 1868, we\n can only reiterate what we then said, viz.:\n\n \u201cThere is just about enough fact to make the work decently solid, a\n good deal of fancy and impression, and, above all, a light hand.\n The style as a whole is really good, because it does pretty evenly\n just what it attempts and professes\u2014sometimes more, seldom less.\n The descriptions of Denver and Central City, and the account of the\n Pueblos of New Mexico, interested us especially\u2014the former for its\n manner, the latter for its interesting and curious facts. But another\n reader would call our selection invidious, and cite quite another set\n of incidents. The fact is, Mr. Meline is everywhere vivid, easy, and\n suggestive, and we do think we like those two parts best because we\n have friends in Denver and take a special interest in the old Poltec\n question.\u201d\n\n PROCEEDINGS OF THE FOURTH ANNUAL CONVENTION OF THE IRISH CATHOLIC\n BENEVOLENT UNION, HELD AT PHILADELPHIA, OCTOBER 16-18, 1872; TOGETHER\n WITH THE CONSTITUTION, ADDRESSES, ETC. Philadelphia: Office of\n the _Catholic Standard_. 1872.\n\n This was a convention of the representatives of nearly 20,000 Catholic\n workingmen. These men, living in different parts of the country,\n are organized into numerous beneficial societies, each independent\n for its own purposes and government, yet enjoying a fellowship with\n all the others for the sake of mutual benefit. The Benevolent Union\n makes these men each others\u2019 friends, in sickness and in death, in\n any part of the country where a society exists. We say it makes them\n friends\u2014we might better say brothers; for attention and support in\n sickness and Catholic burial after death are acts more than friendly.\n Any society which is beneficial and composed exclusively of practical\n Catholics, can become associated on payment of five dollars initiation\n fee, and not to exceed twenty-five cents a year for each member\u2014this\n tax last year having been but ten cents. From these sources a fund\n is raised to pay the expenses of the conventions and a very small\n salary to the secretary and treasurer. Any member away from home is\n entitled to recognition by simply presenting his travelling card.\n In case of sickness, it entitles him to receive from any affiliated\n society whatever aid his own would give him, and in case of death, to\n the expenditure of the same amount for his funeral as would have been\n allowed at home. Expenses thus incurred are refunded by the society to\n which the recipient belonged.\n\n The mere statement of these advantages suffices to explain the\n extraordinary success which has attended the Union. Begun in the\n little city of Dayton, Ohio, with a small number of societies, it\n has in four years extended itself in every direction; sometimes\n creating new societies, sometimes affiliating old ones, everywhere\n attracting great attention and eliciting the warmest encouragement;\n until it is not too much to say of it now that it is one of the great\n beneficial institutions of the country. At the last convention,\n the President of the Philadelphia City Council extended a public\n welcome to the delegates. The proceedings were opened by a sermon\n from the distinguished Jesuit Father Maguire, and the speeches and\n debates were orderly and dignified, and sometimes eloquent, the most\n important questions being discussed and decided expeditiously and\n without ill-temper. Among other things, we noticed that measures\n were instituted looking to the settlement of immigrants in favorable\n places, and to their safety and comfort while in transit. A full\n and minute account was rendered of the receipt and disbursement of\n the common fund, and expression frankly and powerfully given to\n the unanimous sentiment of the societies with regard to Catholic\n education, and of sympathy with the Holy Father in his present\n distress. There was no evidence whatever of any spirit of rivalry; on\n the contrary, a committee was appointed to negotiate for the extension\n of the benefits of the Benevolent Union among other Catholic bodies.\n\n These large assemblages of intelligent and zealous Catholics supply\n one of the greatest wants of the church. After business matters\n are fairly disposed of, the convention becomes a great Catholic\n representative body\u2014not indeed to make laws or to enforce them, but\n to give voice to the thoughts of the Catholic laity on questions which\n concern the general welfare of the church. Never did the clergy, from\n the Pope down to the parish priest, stand in greater need of the\n encouragement of the faithful, and never before have the faithful\n exhibited greater alacrity in giving it. Such gatherings as these\n are the best support which the church nowadays can have in resisting\n oppression and securing her rights. We therefore pray God to give this\n Benevolent Union a great success; and we are at a loss to perceive why\n such should not be the prayer of every good Catholic. The organization\n of a branch society in a parish will be the best preventive of\n Freemasonry and other condemned societies; it will secure the poor\n man and his family from want in case of sickness or accident at home\n or among strangers; it will give the priest and the educated layman\n an audience outside the church for the advocacy of Catholic public\n rights; and at least once a year the convention will exhibit to the\n American public, in a most striking manner, the unity, the charity,\n the patriotism, and the power of the Catholic people of this country.\n\n\n THE HOMES OF OBER-AMMERGAU. A series of Twenty Etchings in\n heliotype, from the original pen-and-ink drawings, together with Notes\n from a diary kept during a three months\u2019 residence in Ober-Ammergau,\n in the summer of 1871. By Eliza Greatorex. Munich: Published by Jos.\n Albert, photographer to the courts of Munich and St. Petersburg. 1872.\n New York: Putnam.\n\n Many books have been published about Ober-Ammergau and its\n Passion-Play. This one is not, however, a mere repetition of their\n substance under a different form. It is altogether different in\n substance, and, therefore, a really new as well as most interesting\n description. The accomplished author does not occupy her pages with an\n account of the play itself, but takes us into the homes of the actors,\n and among the scenes of that picturesque German village. Though\n she is not a Catholic, her heart is full of kindliness, sympathy,\n and reverence, and we have read her truly exquisite portrayal of\n the primitive and most Christian life of the favored inhabitants\n of Ammergau with pleasure and admiration. The etchings are in the\n style of the best and truest art. The author has been honored by an\n autograph letter from the King of Bavaria, who, in spite of his faults\n as a ruler, is a man of taste and cultivation in the fine arts, and\n by a very kind reception at the private audience which was granted to\n her by the august Pius IX. We recommend this beautiful volume very\n cordially to all lovers of art, and of the most genuine, simple, and\n charming phases of nature and of Catholic piety which are to be found\n in the modern world, which is so full of glaring but empty illusions.\n As the edition in the hands of the New York publisher is a small one,\n those who desire to procure a copy would do well to be in haste about\n ordering it from the publisher.\n\n FILIOLA. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1873.\n\n ERNSCLIFF HALL. THE REVERSE OF THE MEDAL. Dramas for young\n ladies\u2019 school exhibitions. New York: The Catholic Publication\n Society. 1873.\n\n The latter of these, a whimsical satire on the discontent of each\n class with its own duties, pleasures, and belongings, and envy of\n those of every other class, is amusing. To every rose there is a\n thorn, and while some envy their superiors in position those luxuries\n which the latter care nothing for, these again are often constrained\n to envy the freedom of those on a lower level. But nothing is truer\n than the adage, that _the back is fitted to the burden_.\n\n THE DEAF-MUTE: OR, THE ABB\u00c9 DE L\u2019EP\u00c9E. Historical Drama in\n Four Acts. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\n The following, taken from the preface of the work, is a synopsis of\n this little play: Julius is exposed in Paris at the age of ten by his\n uncle, who procures a written evidence of the boy\u2019s death, and then\n seizes upon his property. The Abb\u00e9 De l\u2019Ep\u00e9e, Director of the Deaf and\n Dumb Asylum in Paris, finds the youth, and educates him. Suspecting\n the boy to be of noble blood, he bestows all his care on the helpless\n deaf-mute during eight years, creates his soul anew, as it were, and\n in the meantime endeavors to find out the place of his birth. For this\n purpose the Abb\u00e9 travels with his prot\u00e9g\u00e9 over a great part of France,\n and finally arrives at Toulouse, which city the young man recognizes\n as the place of his home. The Abb\u00e9 consults the young lawyer Frauval,\n a friend of St. Alme, who is the son of Julius\u2019s uncle. Darlemont\n refuses to recognize his nephew, but is at last prevailed upon to\n restore Julius to his rightful inheritance, by the threatened exposure\n of his son St. Alme. So the matter is settled amicably, and Julius\n grants to St. Alme, his former playmate, half of his estate.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 99.\u2014JUNE, 1873.\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\nI. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n\nJEROME SAVONAROLA.\n\n \u201cNo breath of calumny ever attainted the personal purity of\n Savonarola.\u201d\u2014_Henry Hart Milman, Dean of S. Paul\u2019s._\n\nTHE bright and shining fame of Girolamo Savonarola, the man upon\nwhom, in the XVth century, the wondering attention of the whole\ncivilized world was admiringly fixed, fell during the XVIIIth century\ninto oblivion or contempt\u2014a not uncommon fate in that period for\nreligious reputations and religious works. The generally received\nopinion concerning him was that of the sceptic Bayle, who, with show\nof impartiality and phrase of fairness (\u2018Opinion is divided as to\nwhether he was an honest man or a hypocrite\u2019), but with cold and\ncruel cynicism, covered the unhappy Dominican with his sharpest and\nmost pungent sarcasm, leaving the reader to infer that he was a mean\nimpostor, who most probably deserved the martyrdom he suffered.\n\nIn our own day, Dean Milman, of the Established Church of England, asks:\n\n \u201cWas he a hypocritical impostor, self-deluded fanatic, holy,\n single-minded Christian preacher, heaven-commissioned prophet,\n wonder-working saint? Martyr, only wanting the canonization which was\n his due? Was he the turbulent, priestly demagogue, who desecrated\n his holy office by plunging into the intrigue and strife of civic\n politics, or a courageous and enlightened lover of liberty?\u201d\n\nAnd\u2014unkindest cut of all\u2014punishment transcending in degree the worst\nfaults and most terrible crimes of which he has been unjustly accused\nby his most cruel enemies\u2014modern German Protestantism has placed\nhim in bronze effigy in company with the bigamous Landgrave Philip\nof Hesse, and with Prince Frederick of Saxony, on the monument at\nWorms, as one of the predecessors and helpers of Luther. The ascetic\nSavonarola the acolyte of the beery Monk of Wittenberg! The chaste\nDominican the inferior of the sensual Reformer! The ecclesiastic who,\nin the flower of his manhood and the fulness of his intellect, made the\nunreserved declaration of Catholic faith[118] in which he lived and\ndied, the aider and precursor of the archheresiarch!\n\nTruly, so far as the judgment of this world is concerned, one hour of\nthe degradation of Worms is sufficient to have cancelled all his sins.\nPoor Savonarola!\n\nJerome Savonarola, born in Ferrara, in 1452 (Sept. 21), was the son of\nNicholas Savonarola. His mother Helen was of the Buonaccorsi family of\nMantua, and his paternal grandfather a physician of Padua of such high\nreputation that Nicholas, Prince of Este, induced him, by the bestowal\nof honors and a pension, to come to Ferrara. Jerome\u2019s youth was serious\nand studious, and, under the fostering care of one of the best of\nmothers, his character developed favorably. At the age of ten, he went\nto the public school of his native city, and it was intended that he\nshould complete the usual studies necessary to his becoming a physician.\n\nThe traveller of to-day, who sees the deserted squares and grass-grown\nstreets of Ferrara, can form but little idea of the Ferrara of that\nperiod; a splendid city of one hundred thousand inhabitants, possessing\none of the most brilliant courts of Italy, and witnessing the frequent\npassage of princes, emperors, and popes, whose presence gave constant\noccasion for pageants, processions, and banquets. The young Jerome, it\nwas noticed, sought none of these, but was fond of lonely walks and\nsolitude, even avoiding the beautiful promenades in the gardens of the\nducal palace.\n\nHe pursued his medical studies for some time, but his favorite reading\nwas found in the works of Aristotle and S. Thomas Aquinas. Long years\nafterward, he said of the latter: \u201cWhen I was in the world, I held him\nin the greatest reverence. I have always kept to his teaching, and,\nwhenever I wish to feel small, I read him, and he always appears to me\nas a giant, and I to myself as a dwarf.\u201d Although, like most youths of\nhis age, he indulged in making verses, his were not of the ordinary\ncallow model. One of his short youthful poems which survived him was on\nthe spread of sceptical philosophy and the decay of virtue. \u201cWhere,\u201d he\nasks\u2014\u201cwhere are the pure diamonds, the bright lamps, the sapphires,\nthe white robes, and white roses of the church?\u201d Such language, taken\nin connection with his declaration at the time that he would never\nbecome a monk, shows that the idea, although in a negative form, was\nalready working in his mind. He afterwards related that, being at\nFaenza one day, he by chance entered the church of S. Augustine, and\nheard a remarkable word fall from the lips of the preacher. \u201cI will not\ntell you what it was,\u201d he added, \u201cbut it is here, graven on my heart.\nOne year afterwards, I became a religious.\u201d\n\nModern novels and the average silly judgment of worldly people in such\nmatters are usually unable to comprehend why any man or woman should\nenter a convent unless they are what is called \u201ccrossed in love.\u201d Some\nsuch story is related of Savonarola, and Milman says of it: \u201cThere is\na vague story, resting on but slight authority, that Savonarola was\nthe victim of a tender but honorable passion for a beautiful female.\u201d\nWe should also incline to be of the same opinion, were it not that\nVillari[119] refers to it as having some foundation. He says that, in\n1472, a Florentine exile, bearing the illustrious name of Strozzi, and\nhis daughter, took up their abode next to the dwelling of Savonarola\u2019s\nfamily. The mere fact that he was an exile from Dante\u2019s native city\nwas sufficient to excite Savonarola\u2019s sympathies. He imagined him\noppressed by the injustice of enemies, suffering for his country and\nfor the cause of liberty. His eyes met those of the Florentine maiden.\nOverflowing with confident hope, he revealed his heart to her. What was\nhis bitter disappointment on receiving a disdainful answer rejecting\nhim, and giving him at the same time to understand that the house of\nStrozzi could not lower itself by condescending to an alliance with the\nfamily of Savonarola. He resented the insult with honest indignation,\nbut, says his chronicler, _il suo cuore ne rest\u00f3 desolato_\u2014\u201chis heart\nwas broken.\u201d This may all be, but certain it is that the disappointed\nyouth did not instantly rush into a convent to bury his blasted hopes.\nOn the contrary, the incident of the sermon at Faenza occurred nearly\ntwo years afterward. On this circumstance he frequently dwelt, saying\nthat a word, _una parola_, of the preacher still strongly affected him,\nbut he always reserved it as a sort of mysterious secret even from his\nmost intimate friends.\n\nIn returning from Faenza, he was light of heart, but found, on reaching\nhome, that a hard trial was before him. It was necessary to conceal\nhis intention from his parents, but his mother, as though she read\nhis secret, would fix her eyes upon him with a gaze which seemed\nto penetrate his very soul. This struggle went on for a year, and\nSavonarola often refers to his mental sufferings during that period.\n\u201cIf I had made known my resolution,\u201d he says, \u201cI believe my heart\nmust have broken, and I should have allowed myself to be shaken in\nmy purpose.\u201d Again, on another day, the 22d of April, 1475, Jerome,\nseating himself, took a lute, and played an air so sad that his mother,\nturning to him suddenly, as if moved by the spirit of prophecy, said to\nhim in a tone of sorrow: \u201cMy dear son, that is a farewell song.\u201d With\ngreat effort, the young man continued to play with trembling hand, but\ndared not raise his eyes from the ground.\n\nThe next day, April 23, was the feast of S. George, a great festival\nfor all Florence. Savonarola had fixed upon it to leave his father\u2019s\nhouse, and, as soon as the religious ceremonies of the morning were\nover, he quitted home, and made his way to Bologna, where he knocked\nfor admittance at the\n\n\nCONVENT OF THE DOMINICANS.\n\nHe was then just twenty-two and a half years old. Announcing his desire\nto enter on his novitiate, he wished, he said, to be employed in the\nmost menial of the offices of the community, and to be the servant of\nall the others. Being admitted, he seized his first leisure moment that\nsame day to write a long and affectionate letter to his father, in\nwhich he sought to comfort him and explain the step he had taken. It is\na memorable letter:\n\n \u201cDEAR FATHER: I fear my departure from home has caused\n you much sorrow\u2014the more so that I left you furtively. Permit me\n to explain my motives. You who so well know how to appreciate the\n perishable things of earth, judge not with passion like a woman,\n but, guided by truth, judge according to reason whether I am not\n right in carrying out my project and abandoning the world. The motive\n determining me to enter on a religious life is this: the great misery\n of the world, the iniquities of men, the crimes, the pride, the\n shocking blasphemies, by which the world is polluted, for there is\n none that doeth good\u2014no, not one. Often and daily have I uttered this\n verse with tears:\n\n  \u2018Heu fuge crudelas terras! Fuge littus avarum.\u2019\n\n I could not support the wickedness of the people. Everywhere I saw\n virtue despised, and vice honored. No greater suffering could I have\n in this world. Wherefore every day I prayed our Lord Jesus Christ to\n lift me out of this mire. It has pleased God in his infinite mercy to\n show me the right way, and I have entered upon it, although unworthy\n of such a grace. Sweet Jesus, may I suffer a thousand deaths rather\n than oppose thee and show myself ungrateful! Thus, my dear father,\n far from shedding tears, you should thank our Lord Jesus, for he has\n given you a son, has preserved him to you up to the age of twenty-two,\n and has deigned to admit him among his knights militant. Can you\n imagine that I have not endured the greatest affliction in separating\n from you? Never have I suffered such mental torment as in abandoning\n my own father to make the sacrifice of my body to Jesus Christ, and\n to surrender my will into the hands of persons I had never seen. In\n mercy, then, most loving father, dry your tears, and add not to my\n pain and sorrow. I am satisfied with what I have done, and I would not\n return to the world even with the certainty of becoming greater than\n C\u00e6sar. But, like you, I am of flesh and blood; the senses wage war\n with reason, and I must struggle furiously with the assaults of the\n devil.[120] They will soon pass by, these first sad days, bitterest in\n the freshness of their grief, and I trust we will be consoled by grace\n in this world, and glory in the next. Comfort my mother, I beseech\n you, of whom, with yourself, I entreat your blessing.\u201d\n\nIn the convent at Bologna, Savonarola spent seven years. During his\nnovitiate, his conduct was the admiration of all his brethren. They\nwondered at his modesty, his humility, and his faultless obedience. He\nappeared to be entirely absorbed in ecstatic contemplation of heavenly\nthings, and to have no other desire than to be allowed to pass his time\nin prayer and humble obedience. To one looking at him walking in the\ncloisters, he had more the appearance of a shadow than of a living man,\nso much was he emaciated by abstinence and fasts. The severest trials\nof the novitiate seemed light to him, and his superiors had frequently\nto restrain his self-imposed denials. Even when not fasting, he ate\nhardly enough to sustain life. His bed was of rough wood with a sack\nof straw and one coarse sheet; his clothes, the plainest possible,\nbut always scrupulously neat. In personal appearance, Savonarola was\nof middle stature, dark, of sanguine-bilious temperament, and of\nextraordinary nervous sensibility. His eyes flamed from beneath dark\neyebrows; his nose was aquiline, mouth large, lips thick but firmly\ncompressed, and manifesting an immovable determination of purpose.\nHis forehead was already marked with deep furrows, indicating a\nmind absorbed in the contemplation of grave subjects. Of beauty of\nphysiognomy there was none, but it bore the expression of severe\ndignity. A certain sad smile, passing over his rough features, gave\nthem a kindly expression which inspired confidence at first sight.\nHis manners were simple and uncultivated; his discourse, plain to\nroughness, became at times so eloquent and powerful that it convinced\nor subdued every one.\n\nAs Savonarola advanced in his studies, he devoted all the time he\ncould possibly spare to the writings of the Fathers and to the Holy\nScriptures. There are no less than four different copies of the Bible\nstill existing in the libraries of Florence, and a fifth in the library\nof S. Mark, in Venice, of which the margins are covered with Latin\nnotes written by him, which are excessively abridged, and in a writing\nso fine as to be read only with difficulty. According to the custom of\nthe order, the young monk was in due time sent out on the mission, that\nis, to different cities and towns, to preach and exercise his other\nclerical duties. In 1482, he was ordered to Ferrara, whither he went,\nvery much against his will. His relatives desired that he should remain\nthere, in order to be near his family. Referring to this, he wrote to\nhis mother: \u201cI could not do as much good at Ferrara as elsewhere. It\nis seldom that a religious succeeds in his native place. Hence it is\nthat the Scripture commands us to go forth into the world. A stranger\nis better received everywhere. No one is a prophet in his own country.\nEven concerning Christ, they asked: \u2018Is not this the son of the\ncarpenter?\u2019 As to me, it would be inquired, \u2018Is not this Master Jerome,\nwho committed such and such sins, and who was not a whit better than\nourselves? Ah! we know him.\u2019\u201d\n\n\nTHE CONVENT OF S. MARK.\n\nFrom Ferrara, Fra Hieronimo was sent to the Convent of S. Mark, at\nFlorence. A mass of saintly and artistic recollections cluster around\nthe history of this convent. Holy men passed their lives within its\naustere cloisters, and eminent artists here consecrated their works by\nChristian inspiration. It is sufficient to mention from among them the\nnames of Fra Angelico, whose admirable frescoes adorn its walls, of\nFra Bartolomeo, known to the world as Baccio della Porta, the equal of\nAndrea del Sarto, of Fra Benedetto, and of the brothers Luke and Paul\ndella Robbia. Villari dwells on one of its greatest illustrations, F.\nSant\u2019 Antonino, the founder or renewer of nearly all the charitable\ninstitutions of Florence, and in particular of the Buoni Uomini di\nSan Martino, which exists to this day in all its beautiful Christian\nedification, if, haply, the tide of modern progress, under Victor\nEmmanuel, have not swept it away.\n\nF. Sant\u2019 Antonino\u2019s memory is still cherished there as that of a\nman burning with divine charity, and consumed with the love of his\nneighbor. His death, which took place in 1459, was deplored in Florence\nas a public calamity.\n\nThe early history of the convent is closely connected with that of\nCosmo de\u2019 Medici, who was its munificent patron. Besides large amounts\nspent on the building, he made them a still more valuable donation.\nNiccolo Niccoli, a name well known to scholars, a collector of\nmanuscripts of European fame, had spent his life and a large fortune in\nmaking a collection of valuable manuscripts which was the admiration\nof all Italy. At his death, he bequeathed it to the public, but the\ndonation was useless by reason of the heavy debts against his estate.\nCosmo paid them, and, retaining for himself a few of the most precious\ndocuments, gave all the rest to the convent. This was the first public\nlibrary in Italy, and it was cared for by the monks in a manner which\nproved them worthy of the gift they had received. S. Mark became, as it\nwere, a centre of learning, and not only the most learned monks of its\naffiliated convents in Northern Italy, but the most distinguished men\nof that period, sought every occasion to frequent it.\n\nSavonarola\u2019s arrival in the Florentine convent had been preceded by his\nreputation for learning and for piety. It was even said of him that he\nhad made some miraculous conversions, and the story was told that, in\nmaking the journey from Ferrara to Mantua by the river, he had been\nshocked by the obscene ribaldry of the boatmen. He turned upon them\nwith terrible earnestness, and, after half an hour of his impressive\nexhortation, eleven of them threw themselves at his feet, confessing\ntheir sins, and humbly demanding his pardon.\n\nSavonarola was at first delighted with all he saw of Florence. The\ndelicious landscape bounded by the soft outline of the Tuscan hills,\nthe elegance of language, the manners of the people, which appeared to\nincrease in refinement and courtesy as you approached Florence, all had\npredisposed him to find delight in this flower of Italian cities, where\nnature and art rival each other in beauty. To his mind, so strongly\nimbued with the religious feeling, Florentine art seemed like a strain\nof sacred music, attesting the omnipotence of genius inspired by faith.\nThe paintings of Fra Angelico appeared to him to have summoned the\nangels to take up their abode in these cloisters; and, gazing at them,\nthe young religious was transported into a world of bliss. The holy\ntraditions of Sant\u2019 Antonino and of his works of charity were still\nfresh among the brethren, and everything appeared to draw him closer\nto them. His heart was filled with hopes of better days, he forgot\nhis former disappointments, as well as the possibility that there\nmight be fresh ones in store for him when in time he came to know the\nFlorentines better.\n\n\nLORENZO THE MAGNIFICENT.\n\nWhen Savonarola came to Florence, Lorenzo the Magnificent had been its\nruler for many years, and was then at the apogee of his fame and his\npower. Under his sway[121] everything looked prosperous and happy.\nThe struggles that formerly convulsed the city had long ceased. Those\nwho refused to bend to the domination of the Medici were imprisoned,\nexiled, or dead. All was peace and tranquillity. Feasts, dances, and\ntournaments filled up the leisure of this Florentine people, who, once\nso jealous of their rights, now seemed to have forgotten the very\nname of liberty. Lorenzo participated in all these diversions, and\neven exerted himself to invent new ones. Among these were the _Canti\nCarnascialeschi_, first written by him and sung by the young nobility\nand gentry of Florence in the masquerades of the Carnival. Nothing\nperhaps can better depict the corruption of the period than these\nsongs. At this day not only educated young men, but the lowest of the\npopulace, would hold them in scorn, and their repetition in public\nwould be an offence against decency swiftly to be suppressed by the\npolice. And yet such were the occupations of predilection of a prince\npraised by all, and considered as the model of a sovereign, a prodigy\nof courtesy, a political and literary genius. And there are those\nwho are to-day inclined to think of him as he was then looked upon,\nto pardon him the blood cruelly spilled to maintain a power unjustly\nacquired by him and his, the ruin of the republic, the violence by\nwhich he forced from the community the sum necessary for his reckless\nexpenditure, the shameless libertinism to which he abandoned himself,\nand even the rapid and infernal corruption of the people which he\nstudied to maintain with all his force and mental capacity.[122] And\nall this must be pardoned him forsooth, because he was the protector of\nliterature and the fine arts!\n\nAmong all the Italian historians who have painted Florence at this\nepoch, there is but little difference except in the variety and depth\nof the colors used by them. Bruto writes, and what he says is neither\nuseless nor irrelevant reading if, as we progress in his description,\nwe bear in mind to what extent it may be applied to New York in the\nyear 1873 as well as to Florence in 1482. \u201cThe Florentines,\u201d he says,\n\u201cseeking to live in idleness and ease, broke with the traditions of\ntheir ancestors, and in immoderate and shameful license fell into the\nway of the most disgraceful and detestable vices. Their fathers, by\ndint of labor, fatigue, virtue, abstinence, and probity, had made the\ncountry flourish. They, on the contrary, as if they had cast aside\nall shame, seemed to have nothing to lose: they gave themselves up to\ndrinking, gambling, and the most ignoble pleasures. Lost in debauch,\nthey had shameless intrigues and daily orgies. They were stained with\nall wickedness, all crime. General contempt of law and justice assured\nthem complete impunity. Courage consisted in audacity and temerity;\nease of manner, in a culpable complaisance; politeness, in gossip and\nscandal.\u201d\n\n\nSAVONAROLA IN FLORENCE.\n\nIn consideration of his acquirements, Fra Hieronimo, was appointed\na teacher of the novices, and held the position for four years\n(1482-1486). In 1483, owing either to a want of preachers or to the\nhigh opinion formed of him from his success as a professor, he was\nappointed to preach the course of Lenten sermons at the church of\nS. Lawrence. Meantime, what he had learned of the Florentines from\npersonal observation had not tended to raise them in his estimation. He\nhad discovered that, in spite of their finished education and highly\ncultivated intellects, their hearts were filled with scepticism, and\nan ever-present sarcasm hovered on their lips. This want of faith and\nof high principles caused him to shrink anew into himself, and his\ndisappointment was the greater as it contrasted so keenly with the\nhopes he entertained on entering Florence. With these feelings he\nfor the first time ascended a Florentine pulpit. Hardly twenty-five\npeople came to hear him a second time. Twenty-five persons! They\ncould hardly be seen in the vast building. His voice was feeble, his\nintonations false, his gestures awkward, his style heavy. His preaching\nwas a failure. But he was not discouraged, and was anxious to make\nanother attempt. His superiors, not caring to renew the experiment in\nFlorence, sent him to San Gemignano for two years. He made no attempt\nto change his style. The Florentines had been accustomed to preachers\nwho carefully studied the elocutionary part of their sermons, many of\nthem seeking to form themselves upon some classical mould, and their\ndelivery was generally polished and graceful. Savonarola despised\nthese aids, and thundered in his rough, uncultivated way, against\nscandals and want of faith, speaking with scorn of the modern poets\nand philosophers, and despising their fanaticism for the classics.\nThe Bible he quoted profusely, and made it the foundation of all his\nsermons. His success at San Gemignano was by no means a decided one,\nnevertheless it was sufficient to give him confidence in himself, and\nto confirm the course he had marked out for himself as a preacher.\nReturning to his convent, he continued to fulfil his modest duties as\nreader or professor until 1486, when by his superiors he was\n\n\nSENT TO LOMBARDY,\n\nwhere he remained four years. These four years are the most obscure of\nhis life. It is known, however, that during this period he preached\nin various cities of that country, and especially at Brescia. Here\nhis power in the pulpit first fully revealed itself. He preached on\nthe Apocalypse. With fervid words, imperious accents, and impressive\nvoice, he reproached the people with their sins, and threatened them\nwith the anger of God. Making startling application of the prophecies\nto Brescia itself, they should see, he told them, their city a prey\nto furious enemies, who would make their streets run rivers of blood.\nCrime and cruelty would visit them in their worst shape, and everything\nwould be delivered up to terror, fire, and destruction. His menaces\nappalled them, and his voice appeared to come from another world. These\nprophecies were recalled when, a few years later, in 1512, Brescia\nwas taken by assault by the French troops under Gaston de Foix, and\nthe city sacked and devastated with the most dreadful barbarity. Six\nthousand of its inhabitants were killed.\n\nSavonarola is next heard of at Reggio, in 1486, where a chapter of\nDominicans was convened for the discussion of certain questions of\ntheology and discipline. A number of learned laymen were also present,\nattracted by the prospect of theological discussion. Among these was\nthe celebrated Pico di Mirandola, then only twenty-three, but already\nfamous as a prodigy of intelligence and learning. He was struck by the\nappearance of Savonarola before the monk had said a word, and had noted\nhis pallid countenance, and sunken eyes, and forehead ploughed with\nfurrows of thought. In the theological debate, Savonarola took no part,\nbut when the question of discipline came up he spoke and thundered.\nWhat he said left upon Mirandola the impression that he beheld an\nextraordinary man, and on his arrival at Florence some time afterward,\nhe besought Lorenzo de\u2019 Medici to have Savonarola recalled to\nFlorence.[123] After preaching at Bologna and Pavia, and delivering a\ncourse of Lenten sermons at Genoa, he was, at the instance of Lorenzo,\nrecalled by his superiors to Florence, in 1490. Thus it was that the\nbitterest enemy of the Medici, the subverter of their power, was by\none of themselves invited to return. Notwithstanding his discernment\nLorenzo little knew what sad disasters he was preparing for his house,\nor what a flame he was kindling in the convent which his ancestors\nhad built. In order to give an example of the Christian simplicity he\npreached, Fra Hieronimo made the journey home on foot, and, owing to\nphysical weakness, accomplished only with difficulty his\n\n\nRETURN TO FLORENCE.\n\nIn his convent he quietly resumed his functions of reader. There\nwas no question of his preaching, for he had not forgotten the icy\nindifference of the Florentines. Devoting himself sedulously to the\ninstruction of his novices, they became the objects of his tender care\nand of his fondest wishes. Meantime his powers had increased and his\nfame had spread. It was echoed from Northern Italy, and confirmed by\nMirandola. Gradually the professed brothers of the convent joined\nthe novices in listening to Savonarola\u2019s lectures, and scholars and\nlearned men of the city demanded permission to be admitted to them.\nAmong those was his adviser Pico. The study-room in which he gave his\nlectures was no longer sufficient to hold the crowd. The garden of the\nconvent was then taken possession of, and there, under the shade of a\nbush of damask roses, carefully renewed to this day by the brothers\nof the convent with religious veneration, he continued his lessons.\nHis subject was the exposition of the Apocalypse. The crowd of his\nhearers still increased, and it was proposed to the Prior of S. Mark\nthat Fra Hieronimo should continue his lectures in the church. This\nwas accorded, and on Sunday, August 1, 1490, crowds flocked to hear\nthe preacher, who, formerly so much despised in Florence, had gained\nsuch a reputation in other parts of Italy. From an account of it left\nby himself, he that day preached a terrible sermon. He continued\nhis explanation of the Apocalypse. The walls rang with his terrible\nconclusions, he succeeded in communicating to the excited multitude the\nimpetuosity of his own feelings, his voice seemed to them superhuman.\nThe success of that day was complete. Nothing else was talked of in all\nFlorence, and the literati for a short time forgot Plato to discuss the\nmerits of the new Christian preacher. Here is his own account of the\nevent:\n\n \u201cOn the first day of August of this year, 1490, I began publicly to\n expound the Apocalypse in our church of S. Mark. During the course\n of the year, I continued to develop to the Florentines these three\n propositions 1. \u2018That the church would be renewed in our time.\u2019 2.\n \u2018Before that renovation, God would strike all Italy with a fearful\n chastisement.\u2019 3. \u2018That these things would happen shortly.\u2019 I labored\n to demonstrate these three points to my hearers, and to persuade them\n by probable arguments, by allegories drawn from sacred Scripture,\n by other similitudes and parables drawn from what was going on in\n the church. I insisted on reasons of this kind; and I dissembled the\n knowledge which God gave me of those things in other ways, because\n men\u2019s spirits appeared to me not yet in a state fit to comprehend such\n mysteries.\u201d\n\nThe reader will not fail to notice the portentous intimation conveyed\nin the last sentence of this remarkable record. Savonarola already\nbelieved himself the recipient of supernatural communications \u201cthe\nknowledge which God gave me of these things in other ways.\u201d We shall\nfind him presently boldly announcing his celestial visions and commands\nfrom heaven, and here may be discerned clearly and at once the point at\nwhich his noble mind and pure spirit, disturbed by the excitement of\nyears of mental tension and meditation on Apocalyptic visions, lost its\nclearness and its balance, and fell into the gravest errors of judgment\nand doctrine.\n\n\nTHE FAMOUS SERMONS.\n\nCrowds continued to press into the church of S. Mark to hear the\npreaching of Fra Girolamo, until the utmost capacity of the building no\nlonger sufficed to hold them. For the Lent of 1491, his preaching was\nappointed to take place in the cathedral, and the walls of Santa Maria\ndel Fiore for the first time echoed to his voice. From this moment\nhe was lord of the pulpit and master of the people, who, increasing\nevery day in number as hearers, redoubled in their enthusiasm for\nhim. The pictures he drew charmed the fancy of the multitude, and the\nthreats of future punishments exercised a magic influence upon all,\nfor sinister forebodings appeared to rule the hour. All this was far\nfrom satisfactory or pleasing to the Magnificent Lorenzo, and naturally\nbegat among his adherents a feeling of strong opposition to Savonarola.\nThe result was that a deputation of five of the principal citizens\n(Domenico Bonsi, Guidantonio Vespucci, Paulo Antonio Soderini, Bernardo\nRucallai, and Francesco Valori) waited upon him, with instructions to\nadvise him that he was risking his own safety and that of his convent,\nand to admonish him to be more moderate in his tone when teaching or\npreaching. Savonarola abruptly cut short their discourse, saying: \u201cI\nsee that you come not of your own motion, but that you are sent by\nLorenzo de\u2019 Medici. Tell him to make haste to repent of his sins, for\nGod is no respecter of persons, and has no fear of the great ones\nof this earth.\u201d Proud of his independence as a priest, Savonarola\ndesired thus to crush at the outset the established custom in S. Mark\nof continually bending and prostrating before the house of Medici. At\nthis the deputation pointed out to him the danger he was in of being\nexiled; and he answered: \u201cI have no fear of exile from your city, which\nis, after all, a mere grain of dust upon the face of the earth. But\nalthough I am only a stranger in it, and Lorenzo a citizen and its\nhead, know ye that I shall remain, and ye shall depart.\u201d\n\nTo this he added a few words concerning the actual condition of\nFlorence, which made them wonder at the intimate knowledge he possessed\nof its affairs. Shortly afterward in the sacristy of S. Mark\u2019s, in the\npresence of several persons, he said that the affairs of Italy would\nsoon change, for that the Pope, the King of Naples, and Il Magnifico\nhad not long to live.\n\nThe ill-will of the Mediceans was naturally strengthened by such an\nincident as this. Their murmurs increased, and, coming from a small but\ninfluential portion of the citizens, Savonarola took it into serious\nconsideration whether he should not give up for the time the prophetic\nstrain of his sermons, and confine himself to the inculcation of moral\nand religious precepts. There is but little doubt that he struggled\nearnestly and conscientiously to bring himself to this resolution, and\nhe has himself left the record of it in his _Compendio di Rivelazione_.\n\u201cI deliberated with myself,\u201d he says, \u201cas to suppressing the sermon\non the visions I had prepared for the following Sunday\u2019s cathedral\nservice, and for the future to abstain from them. God is my witness\nthat throughout the whole of Saturday and during the entire night I lay\nawake; and every other way, every doctrine but that, was taken from me.\nAt daylight, fatigued and exhausted by my long vigil, while I prayed,\nI heard a voice which said to me, \u2018Fool, seest thou not that God wills\nthat thou shalt persevere in thy path?\u2019 And that day, I preached a\nterrible sermon.\u201d[124]\n\nIt was, doubtless, as he says, \u201cuna predica tremenda,\u201d for, persuaded\nas he was of his divine mission, he no sooner entered the pulpit than,\nwith his imagination excited, his senses in febrile agitation from\nthe effect of vigils and fastings, his subject carried him away into\nbursts of denunciatory eloquence that frightened while they charmed his\nhearers. In his excitement he again sees the nocturnal visions of his\ncell, loses consciousness of his own personality, and confounds the\nwords there heard with the language of Scripture, for in his sermons he\nfrequently, in the rush of language, cites as passages from the Bible\nthe phrases of his own visions. Among these was his famous _Gladius\nDomini super terram cito et velociter_.\n\n\nTHE NEW PRIOR.\n\nMeantime, in the interior of his convent, the learning, the simplicity,\nthe profound piety and purity, and benevolence of Fra Girolamo had won\nfor him the love and veneration of all his brethren. At the election\nof a new superior in 1491, they naturally chose him for their prior.\nSavonarola, who had always felt and sought to inculcate the higher\nappreciation of the dignity of the church and its ministers, seized\nthis occasion to protest practically against a ceremony, which to him\nseemed not only compromising but degrading. Ever since the reign of\nthe Medici, it was the custom for every newly elected prior of S. Mark\nto render homage and swear fealty to the reigning chief. Savonarola\ngave no sign of conforming to it, and from his silence might have been\nsupposed to be ignorant of it. Some of the older monks reminded him of\nit as a formality which they had always considered obligatory. This\nview of it was natural enough from the fact that the Medici really\nfounded the convent and had been its most generous benefactors. The new\nprior\u2019s reply was characteristic: \u201cIs it God or Lorenzo de\u2019 Medici who\nhas named me prior? I acknowledge my election as from God alone, and\nto him only will I swear obedience.\u201d This was carried to Lorenzo, who\nsaid: \u201cYou see, a stranger comes into my house, and deigns not even to\nvisit me.\u201d\n\nIt must be conceded that, considering his position and personal\ncharacter, Lorenzo acted with great moderation, for he evidently\ndesired to conciliate the prior of the convent and to avoid the scandal\nof a quarrel with a religious. More than once he attended Mass at\nS. Mark\u2019s and afterwards strolled in its garden. On these occasions\nsome brother would run to the prior to tell him of the distinguished\npersonage who was walking alone in the garden. \u201cDid he ask to see me?\u201d\nwas Savonarola\u2019s answer. \u201cNo, but ...\u201d\u2014\u201cThen let him walk there as\nlong as he pleases.\u201d\n\nThe monk judged Lorenzo severely, and acted in consequence, for he knew\nall the injury to public morals he had done, and looked upon him not\nonly as the enemy and destroyer of liberty, but as the most serious\nobstacle to any amelioration and christianizing of the people. Failing\nin one course, Lorenzo began to send to the convent liberal alms and\nrich gifts, but this only increased Savonarola\u2019s contempt for him, and\nhe even made scornful allusion to it in the pulpit, intimating that\nsuch an attempt only confirmed him in his former resolution. Shortly\nafterward were found in the \u201calms-box\u201d of S. Mark\u2019s a number of pieces\nof gold. The prior understood perfectly that they came from Lorenzo,\nas in fact they did, and, separating the princely gold from the modest\nofferings of the faithful, he sent it to the Buoni Uomini of the city\nfor distribution among the poor, with the message that \u201csilver and\ncopper sufficed for the wants of the convent.\u201d\n\nThus far thwarted at every turn, Lorenzo was not the man to give\nup a struggle once entered upon, and he was determined to turn, if\npossible, the rising tide of the Dominican\u2019s popularity. The preacher\nmost admired at that period in Florence had for some time been Padre\nGenazzano\u2014the same whose sermons were attended by crowds when Fra\nGirolamo could scarce retain a dozen or two of people to listen to\nhim. Lorenzo requested the former to resume his preaching. He did so,\nand his sermon was announced for Ascension Day. All Florence rushed\nto hear him. Taking for his text, \u201cNon est vestrum nosse tempora\nvel momenta\u201d\u2014\u201cIt is not for you to know the times or seasons\u201d\u2014he\nimprudently presumed too far upon his princely patronage, and\nviolently attacking Savonarola by name, qualifying him as a false and\nfoolish prophet, a sower of discord and scandals among the people,\nso revolted his auditory by his intemperate speech and uncharitable\ndenunciation that, in the short hour of his discourse, he utterly lost\nthe reputation of long years\u2019 acquisition. On the same day, Savonarola\npreached upon the same text, and, so far as the popular judgment was\nconcerned, remained master of the field. Lorenzo, seeing the total\nfailure of his scheme, and suffering from the rapid advances of a\nmalady that was soon to become mortal, fatigued, moreover, with the\nstruggle against a man whom, in spite of himself, he felt forced to\nrespect, he left him henceforth to preach unmolested.\n\n\nSAVONAROLA\u2019S SERMONS,\n\nas printed, give us, on reading them, but a very imperfect idea of\ntheir effect as delivered. Of that tremendous power he wielded in\nthe pulpit, and concerning which the amplest testimony of both his\nfriends and enemies entirely agree, the source cannot be traced in\nthe published copies of his sermons. The earliest of these are those\npreached in 1491, on the first Epistle of S. John. It would be a\ndifficult task to present a general idea of this collection. In form,\nthey offer no unity of subject nor connection of parts, added to\nwhich, the strong originality and waywardness of Savonarola\u2019s style\nand studies make it difficult for a modern reader to bring order out\nof this apparent disorder. He always commences with a citation from\nScripture, grouping around it all the ideas theological, moral, and\npolitical which it suggests to his mind, resting these in their turn\nupon fresh Biblical texts. The apparent result to him who reads them\nto-day is a heterogeneous mass of discordant materials of which the\nconfusion is hopeless. But these sermons were actually preached by\nSavonarola with a very different result. To him everything was clear.\nThese words before him in manuscript are but the dry bones which he\nclothes with the magnetic life of inspiration, and to which he gives\nvoice in the thunders of his own eloquence. The fire of his imagination\nkindles, figures of gigantic power present themselves to his mind,\nhis gesture is animated, his eyes flame, and, abandoning himself to\nhis originality, he becomes what he really was\u2014a great and powerful\norator. At times, he appears to fall back into a mass of artificial\nideas without connection, again and again to free himself by force\nof natural talent, for, born orator as he was, he needed the arts of\noratory; and it was only when his subject mastered him, and carried\nhim away, that nature took the place of art, and he was eloquent in\nspite of himself. Of his originality and depth of thought some idea may\nbe gained from the following extract taken from one of his nineteen\nsermons upon the first Epistle of S. John, in which he explains at\nlength the mysteries of the Mass, giving in it religious precepts and\ncounsels to the people:\n\n \u201cThe word we utter proceeds out of our mouths separated and divided\n by a succession of syllables, in such manner that, while one part\n exists, the other part is already extinct, and, when the whole word\n is pronounced, it exists no longer. But the Verb, or the Divine Word,\n has no divisions; it is one in its essence, it is diffused throughout\n the created world, and lives and endures throughout eternity like\n the celestial light which is its companion. Therefore it is the Word\n of Life, and one with the Father. We accept, it is true, this Word\n in various senses. By \u2018life\u2019 we sometimes mean the natural being of\n mankind, sometimes we mean by it their occupation. Hence we say, the\n life of this man is science, the life of the bird is singing. But\n there is but one true life which is in God, for in him all things have\n their being. And this is that blessed life which is the object of\n man, and in which he may find infinite and eternal happiness. Earthly\n life is not only fallacious, but powerless to give us happiness from\n its want of unity in itself. If you love riches, you must give up\n sensual pleasures; if you are abandoned to these, you must renounce\n the acquisition of knowledge; and if you give up the acquisition of\n knowledge you cannot obtain offices of responsibility and honor. But\n the joys of life eternal are all comprised in the vision of God, which\n is supreme felicity.\u201d\n\n\nDEATH OF LORENZO.\n\nWith a mortal disease fastened upon him, Lorenzo the Magnificent\nhad retired to his villa at Careggi. Hope of his recovery there was\nnone, for the physicians had exhausted the last resources of their\nart. Even the renowned Lazzaro da Ficino had been called from Pavia,\nand had administered his wonderful draught of distilled gems without\nresult. Death approached rapidly, and in this solemn hour Lorenzo\u2019s\nmind turned seriously on his religious duties. He seemed entirely\nchanged. When Holy Communion was to be administered to him, he made a\nsuperhuman effort to rise from his bed, and, supported in the arms of\nthose around him, to receive it kneeling, but the priest, perceiving\nhis weakness and his agitation, insisted on his being returned to his\ncouch. It was impossible to calm him. The past rose up before him in\nhorrible visions. As he approached his end, his crimes assumed gigantic\nproportions, and became every moment more menacing, filling him with\na wild dismay, and depriving him of the peace and comfort he would\notherwise have derived from the consolations of religion. Having lost\nall confidence in men,[125] he even doubted the sincerity of his own\nconfessor. Accustomed to have his slightest wish obeyed, he began to\ndoubt if that ecclesiastic had acted with entire freedom. His remorse\nbecame harder and harder to bear. \u201cNo one ever dared say \u2018No\u2019 to me,\u201d\nhe thought within himself, and this reflection, once a source of\npride, now became his most cruel punishment. Suddenly the image of\nSavonarola in its grave severity presented itself to his mind, and he\nremembered that he at least had never been influenced either by threats\nor flatteries. \u201cHe is the only true _frate_ I know,\u201d he exclaimed,\nand expressed a desire to make his confession to him. A messenger was\ninstantly sent to S. Mark\u2019s for Savonarola, who was so astonished at\nthe strange and unlooked-for summons that it seemed to him incredible.\nHe gave answer that it appeared to him useless to go to Careggi because\nhis words would not be well received by Lorenzo. But when he was made\nto understand the gravity of Lorenzo\u2019s condition, and the fact that he\nhad really sent for him, he set off instantly. That day Lorenzo felt\nhimself rapidly sinking. Summoning his son Piero, he gave him his last\ninstructions and his dying farewell. He afterwards expressed a wish\nto see Pico di Mirandola, who came immediately, and the pleasure of\nhis society had a soothing effect upon the moribund. Scarcely had Pico\nleft, when the prior of S. Mark was announced. He advanced respectfully\nto the bedside of the dying man. Three sins in particular lay heavy\nupon his conscience. These were: the sack of Volterra; the plunder of\nthe treasure set apart for the dowry of poor Florentine damsels, which\nhad driven many of them to evil lives; the blood he had shed to revenge\nthe conspiracy of the Pazzi.\n\nWhile speaking, Lorenzo\u2019s agitation increased alarmingly. But\nSavonarola, in order to calm him, kept repeating, \u201cGod is good, God is\nmerciful.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut,\u201d he added, when Lorenzo had finished, \u201cthree things are\nnecessary.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are they, father?\u201d asked Lorenzo.\n\nSavonarola\u2019s countenance became grave, and, reckoning upon his fingers,\nhe said: \u201cFirst, you must have a firm and lively faith in the infinite\nmercy of God.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have it fully.\u201d\n\n\u201cSecond, you must make restitution of all money unjustly acquired, or\ncharge your son to do it for you.\u201d\n\nAt this Lorenzo was sorely grieved and perplexed, but with a great\neffort he signified assent by nodding his head.\n\nSavonarola then rose, and, drawing himself up to his full height,\nsaid with solemn countenance and impressive voice, \u201cLastly, you must\nrestore to the people of Florence their freedom.\u201d He fastened his eyes\nupon those of Lorenzo, awaiting his answer. The dying man, gathering\nwhat little strength was left him, disdainfully shrugged his shoulders\nwithout deigning to utter a single word.\n\nThus\u2014so runs the story\u2014Savonarola left him, and Lorenzo the\nMagnificent, lacerated with remorse, soon afterwards breathed his last\nsigh (8th of April, 1492).[126]\n\nThe death of Lorenzo seriously affected the public affairs of Tuscany\nand of Italy. His personal influence over other princes, his prudence\nand ability, had made him in some sort the moderator of Italian\npolitics. Piero, his son and successor, was in every respect his\nopposite. Of handsome and powerful physique, he abandoned himself to\nathletic sports and to gallantry. He possessed a certain facility of\nimprovisation and a pleasing address, but centred his highest ambition\non horsemanship, tournaments, and games of strength and dexterity.\n\nHe inherited from his mother all the pride of the house of Orsini, but\nfrom his father none of that simplicity and modesty of manner which\nhad so powerfully contributed to render him popular. His manners were\nrough and displeasing to all: he yielded frequently to transports of\nrage, and one day, in the presence of many persons, gave his cousin a\nviolent blow with his fist. These things were looked upon in Florence\nas worse than an open violation of the law, and of themselves sufficed\nto create for him a great number of enemies. Not only to his subjects\nwere his manners displeasing, but from the very commencement of his\nreign he so disgusted all the Italian princes that Florence soon lost\nthe preeminence which Lorenzo had gained for her. He utterly neglected\nthe public affairs, and was solicitous only to concentrate in himself\nall the power of the government. Day by day he successively swept away\neven the few remaining semblances of liberty which Lorenzo had taken\ngreat care to leave intact, and to which the people naturally clung\nwith affection. General dissatisfaction spread rapidly, and swept\ninto a threatening opposition even many of the strongest partisans\nof the Medicean dynasty. A certain uneasy expectation of a change in\npublic affairs began to manifest itself, a change the more necessary\nand desirable as Piero, deserted by citizens of repute, was forced to\nsurround himself by men either unknown or incapable.\n\nMeantime the multitude pressed around the pulpit of Savonarola, and\nlooked up to him as the preacher of the anti-Mediceans. The fact that\nLorenzo, at the approach of death, had desired him for a confessor,\ngained him many adherents among the admirers of that prince, who\nrapidly fell away from Piero on account of his personal faults and\ndefective administration. The populace, moreover, recollected that\nSavonarola, in the sacristy of S. Mark\u2019s, had predicted the approaching\ndeaths of Lorenzo, of the Pope, and of the King of Naples. One portion\nof this prediction had been verified, and the fulfilment of another\nseemed close at hand. The vital powers of Pope Innocent VIII. were\nrapidly failing him, and he died on the 25th of April, 1492. The death\nof the King of Naples, it was known, must soon follow. And now all eyes\nwere involuntarily turned to the man who had predicted the disasters\nwhich seemed impending over Italy, and whose prophecies seemed so\nstrangely fulfilled. The universal belief in his prophecies seemed to\nconfirm Savonarola\u2019s confidence in his own power, and spread his name\nthroughout the world. He was at once the cause and the victim of his\nown visions. His exaltation increased. The time he had foretold seemed\nclose at hand. He read and re-read the books of prophecy, and preached\nwith greater fervor. It is but little to be wondered at that in this\nframe of mind his visions went on increasing in number.\n\nToward the end of the same year, while preaching the Advent sermons,\nhe had a dream which to him appeared like a vision, and which he did\nnot hesitate to look upon as a divine revelation. He seemed to see\nin the heavens a hand holding a sword on which was written: _Gladius\nDomini super terram cito et velociter_. He heard many voices, clear and\ndistinct, promising mercy to the good, but menacing punishments to the\nwicked, and crying out that the wrath of God was nigh at hand. Suddenly\nthe sword points to the earth, the sky is overcast, it rains swords and\narrows, the lightnings flash, the thunders roll, and the whole earth is\ngiven up a prey to war, famine, and pestilence.\n\nThe vision ceased with a command to Savonarola to menace the people\nwith approaching punishments, to inspire them with the fear of God, and\ninduce them to beseech the Lord to send good pastors to his church, who\nwould seek and save the souls in danger of being lost. In later years\nwe find this vision represented in an infinite number of engravings\nand medals, and become, as it were, a symbol of Savonarola and of his\ndoctrine.\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nDANTE\u2019S PURGATORIO.\n\n\nCANTO NINTH.\n\n  FORTH from the arms of her beloved now,\n    Whitening the orient steep, the concubine\n  Of old Tithonus came, her lucent brow\n    Adorned with gems whose figure formed the sign\n  Of that cold animal whose tail with dread\n    Strikes trembling nations; and the night, where we\n  Now were, had made of her ascending tread\n    Two of her paces and was making three,\n  With wings through weariness less fully spread,\n    When I, in whom the weakness was alive\n  Of Adam\u2019s nature, sank in slumber\u2019s power\n    Where sat already on the grass all five.\n\n  Near to the dawning and about the hour\n    When first the little swallow wakes her lays\n  (Haply remembering her old woes afresh),\n    And when our mind, relieved of thinking, strays\n  More of a pilgrim from its cage of flesh\n    Till to its vision \u2018tis almost divine,\n  Dreaming, I seemed to see in heaven suspended\n    An eagle that with golden plumes did shine\n  And with spread wings as he to swoop intended:\n    And in that place it seemed to be, methought,\n  Where Ganymede, abandoning his own,\n    Was up to heaven\u2019s high consistory caught.\n  Then I considered; haply here alone\n    His wont to strike is, and he scorns elsewhere\n  To bear up what he snatches in his feet;\n    Methought he next wheeled somewhat in the air,\n  Then struck like lightning, terrible and fleet,\n    And rapt me up to the empyrean: there\n  We burned together in so fierce a heat,\n    And such of that imagined fire the smart,\n  My dream perforce was by the scorching broke.\n    Not otherwise Achilles with a start\n  Rolled his amazed eyes round him, newly woke,\n    And knowing nothing where he was, when flying\n  His mother bore him, slumbering on her breast,\n    From Chiron to the isle of Scyros hieing,\n  Whence the Greeks, after, forced him with the rest,\n    Than I too started! so that all repose\n  Fled from my features; deadly pale and chill\n    I grew, like one whom fear hath well-nigh froze.\n  Sole stood my Comforter beside me still;\n    My face was towards the sea-shore turned; the sun\n  Was risen already more than two hours high.\n    \u201cFear not,\u201d my Lord said, \u201cwe have well begun:\n  Shrink not! but every way enlarge thy strength;\n    Thou hast arrived at Purgatory! See\n  Yon cliff that circles it; behold at length\n    The entrance, parted where it seems to be.\u201d\n\n  In the white light that comes before the morn\n    While slumbering in thee lay thy soul, there came\n  Over the flowers this valley that adorn\n    A woman, saying, \u201cLucia is my name:\n  This man here sleeping let me take in care;\n    So shall I speed him forward on his way.\u201d\n  Sordello, with his gentle comrades there,\n    Remained: she took thee and, at dawn of day,\n  Up hither sped, and I behind her straight.\n    Here she reposed thee; first with her fair eyes\n  Showing the aperture of yonder gate,\n    Then vanished and thy sleep in even wise.\n  As a man, doubting, comforteth his fear\n    At truth\u2019s discovery, confident once more,\n  So did I change; and seeing me appear\n    Without inquietude, my Guide up o\u2019er\n  The cliff moved on, I following in his rear.\n\n  Reader, thou well observ\u2019st to what a height\n    I lift my matter, therefore wonder not\n  If with more art I strengthen what I write.\n    We still approached and now had reached the spot\n  Where that which first had seemed to me a rent,\n    Like to a fissure in a wall, my view\n  Made out a gate, and leading to it went\n    Three steps, and each was of a different hue;\n  A guardian sat there keeping the ascent.\n    As yet he spake not, and as more and more\n  Mine eyes I opened, on the topmost stair\n    I saw him sitting, and the look he wore\n  Was of such brightness that I could not bear.\n    The rays were so reflected from his face\n  By a drawn sword that glistened in his hand\n    That oft I turned to look in empty space:\n  Then he began: \u201cSpeak ye from where ye stand!\n    What seek ye here? who leads you to this place?\n  Take heed lest climbing upward from the strand\n    You come to harm!\u201d My Master answered thus:\n  \u201cA heavenly lady, of such things aware,\n    Spake in these words not long ago to us:\n  \u2018Go ye up yonder, for the gate is there.\u2019\n    And may she speed you on your way to good!\u201d\n  Rejoined that gracious guard. \u201cUp to our flight\n    Advance you then!\u201d We therefore came and stood\n  At the first stair, which was of marble white,\n    So clear and burnished, that therein I could\n  Behold myself, how I appear to sight.\n    The second was a rough stone, burnt and black\n  Beyond the darkest purple; through its length\n    And crosswise it was traversed by a crack.\n  The third whose mass is rested on their strength\n    Appeared to me of porphyry, flaming red,\n  Or like blood spouting from a vein; thereon\n    God\u2019s Angel kept with planted feet his tread\n  Sitting upon the threshold\u2019s gleaming stone,\n    Which seemed to me of adamant. My Guide\n  Led me with my good will up that ascent,\n    Saying, \u201cBeg humbly that the bolt may slide!\u201d\n  And at those hallowed feet devout I bent.\n    \u201cIn mercy open to me!\u201d I implored,\n  But first I smote me thrice upon my breast.\n    He on my forehead with his pointed sword\n  Traced P. seven times, then spake me this behest:\n    \u201cWash thou these wounds when thou hast past the door.\u201d\n  Ashes or dry heaps dug from gravelly earth\n    Were of one color with the robe he wore,\n  From under which two keys he next drew forth.\n    One was of gold, one silver; first he plied\n  The white, then used the yellow on the gate,\n    In such sort as my spirit satisfied;\n  Then said: \u201cTo none is passable the strait\n    When either of these keys be vainly tried,\n  And in the wards without response it grate.\n    One is more precious, one more asketh wise\n  Counsel and intellect the lock to free,\n    Because \u2018tis this which error\u2019s knot unties.\n  From Peter\u2019s hand I hold them. He on me\n    Enjoined this rule, that I should rather err\n  In opening unto penitents, than be\n    Slow to unbind, if at my feet they were.\u201d\n  Then of that pass he pushed the sacred gate,\n    Saying\u2014\u201cGo in; but be ye warned, before\n  You enter! who looks back returneth straight.\u201d\n    And when the hinge-bolts of the holy door,\n  Which are of strong and sounding metal, rolled\n    Round in their sockets, the Tarpeian rock,\n  When robbed of good Metellus and its gold,\n    Rung not so loud nor yielded such a shock.\n  At the first thunder, as the portal swung\n    I looked about, and as I stood intent\n  Heard _Te Deum laudamus_! clearly sung,\n    And the gate\u2019s music with the song was blent.\n  The same impression what I heard gave me\n    As on the listener\u2019s hearing is begot\n  When men with organs join their voice, and we\n    Now hear the words, and now we hear them not.\n\n\n\n\nUNITY.\n\nHE who holds not this unity of the church, does he think that he\nholds the faith? He who strives against and resists the church, is he\nassured that he is in the church? For the blessed Apostle Paul teaches\nthis same thing, and manifests the sacrament of unity, thus speaking:\n_There is one Body and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one Hope of\nyour calling; one Lord, one Faith, one Baptism, one God_. This unity\nfirmly should we hold and maintain, especially we bishops presiding in\nthe church, in order that we may approve the Episcopate itself to be\none and undivided. Let no one deceive the brotherhood by falsehood;\nno one corrupt the truth of our faith by a faithless treachery. The\nEpiscopate is one; it is a whole, in which each enjoys full possession.\nThe church is likewise one, though she be spread abroad, and multiplies\nwith the increase of her progeny; even as the sun has rays many, yet\none light; and the tree boughs many, yet its strength is one, seated\nin the deep-lodged root; and as, when many streams flow down from one\nsource, though a multiplicity of waters seems to be diffused from\nthe bountifulness of the overflowing abundance, unity is preserved\nin the source itself. Part a ray of the sun from its orb, and its\nunity forbids this division of light; break a branch from the tree,\nonce broken it can bud no more; cut the stream from its fountain, the\nremnant will be dried up. Thus the church, flooded with the light of\nthe Lord, puts forth her rays through the whole world, with yet one\nlight, which is spread upon all places, while its unity of body is not\ninfringed. She stretches forth her branches over the universal earth\nin the riches of plenty, and pours abroad her bountiful and onward\nstreams; yet is there one Head, one Source, one Mother, abundant in the\nresults of her fruitfulness.\u2014_S. Cyprian._\n\n\n\n\nTHE TROWEL OR THE CROSS;\n\nFROM THE GERMAN OF CONRAD VON BOLANDEN.\n\n\u201c_This is your hour, and the power of darkness._\u201d\u2014S. Luke xxii. 53.\n\n\nBOLANDEN\u2019S stories have been received with such marked favor, both in\nthe original and translation, that we have thought a short biographical\nsketch of the author would be acceptable to the readers of The Catholic\nWorld.\n\nJoseph Edward Charles Bishoff, better known as Conrad von Bolanden, was\nborn August 9, 1828, at lower Gailbach, a village of the Palatinate,\nformerly belonging to Lorraine.\n\nHis father was a wealthy merchant, and, when his son had reached a\nsuitable age, he placed him under the direction of a private tutor;\nbut the child gave no indication of talent, and made slow progress in\nhis studies. He exhibited an equally backward disposition in the Latin\nschool at Blieskastel, which he attended at the age of eight years.\nWhen his parents afterwards moved to Fischbach in Breisgau, it was his\ndelight to roam through the forests, and remain many hours among the\nruins of Hohenburg, situated upon the summit of a high mountain. To\nhis close observation of the beauties of nature at this early age we\nare doubtless indebted for the graphic descriptions of natural scenery\nwhich we find in his works.\n\nHaving studied Latin for some time with the reverend pastor of Sch\u00f6nau,\nhe entered, at the age of thirteen years, the Bishop\u2019s Seminary of\nSpeyer. Here also he was accounted a very dull scholar, for the reason\nthat the method of instruction was unsuited to him, and because he had\nalready commenced to write poetry and romances.\n\nIn the year 1849, he became a student of the University of Munich, and\napplied himself diligently to the study of theology, for he felt within\nhimself the vocation to become a priest. During this time, he wrote\na _feuilleton_ for the _Volkshalle_, published at Cologne, in which\nhe describes an incident of the French Revolution. On the 20th day of\nAugust, 1852, he was ordained priest by the Rt. Rev. Bishop Nicholas\nvon Weiss, in the seminary-church of Speyer, and became assistant\npriest of the cathedral. He devoted himself with zeal and enthusiasm\nto his new sphere of duty; but, at the end of two years, the bodily\nstrength of the young assistant was completely exhausted, and he was\nmade pastor of Kirchheim Bolanden, a small city at the Donnersberg. The\nparish numbered 1,303 souls, who were distributed among not less than\n40 stations, in the midst of Protestants. Here again was a hard and\nfatiguing field of labor, but the experience which he acquired during\nhis sojourn in Bolanden concerning the nature of Protestantism, was the\nfoundation of his _Wedding-tour of M. Luther_. In memory of this his\nfirst mission as pastor, he called himself Conrad von Bolanden.\n\nTen months later, he was made pastor of Boerrstadt. There he wrote,\nwithin three years, _Eberhard of Falkenstein, or the Power of Faith_,\n_Franz von Sickingen_, and _Queen Bertha_.\n\nFrom the year 1859 to 1869, he was pastor of Berghausen, about two\nmiles from Speyer. Now followed in rapid succession novels and\nhistorical romances, which were at once translated into all the living\nlanguages, and gave the author a more than European fame, since his\nwritings were printed and read also in America. His social romance,\n_The Progressionists_, lately reproduced in this magazine, became very\npopular. Workingmen of all classes made up funds to buy the book. Among\nthe higher class also, and even in the family of a certain prince,\nthis work created a furor; but it was the cause of great trouble to\nthe author. A man of exalted rank and power, whose scandalous habits\nwere known far and wide, imagined that he saw himself depicted in _The\nProgressionists_. The wrath of this person was the reason why many,\nout of fear of incurring his displeasure, avoided the presence of\nBolanden. His shattered health, as well as the loss of friends, induced\nhim, in the year 1869, to resign of his own accord his position as\npastor, especially as the compensation he had received for his works\nhad secured him an independent fortune. He purchased for himself a\ncomfortable house in Speyer surrounded by a large garden, and there he\nnow lives, always employed in writing, but in strict retirement.\n\nHis method of life is very regular. Every morning at nine o\u2019clock he\nappears in his garden, where he occupies himself with his flowers and\nfruit-trees, after which he reads the newspapers and letters he has\nreceived. He never writes either in the morning or late at night. He\ncommences work at two in the afternoon, and ceases at five.\n\nHaving no sisters, brothers, or other near relatives, Von Bolanden\u2019s\nhouse is presided over by his aged mother, Eleonore Languet, a\nvenerable matron, whose motherly love is never exhausted, and whose\ndevotion is repaid by the respectful and childlike affection of her\ndistinguished son.\n\nOne of the peculiarities of Von Bolanden is his decided aversion\nto travelling, and to stopping at hotels. \u201cI feel uneasy when out\nof my house.\u201d he often remarks. Like many literary men, he is very\nabsent-minded; he will look at the clock to ascertain a day or date,\nand, during the hottest days of summer, he will approach an empty stove\nto light his cigar.\n\nHis great merits as a Catholic novelist, and his fearless exposure\nof historical falsehoods, as well as his efforts for the religious\nenlightenment of the people, have been recognized by Pope Pius IX., who\nhas made him a Monsignore. This distinction is important, inasmuch as\nit implies the approval of Bolanden\u2019s works by the highest authority on\nearth.\n\nGod grant that the intrepid author may be spared for many years to\nuphold the banner of truth, and increase his merits by waging a combat\nagainst the enemies of the Catholic Church.\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nTHE CONSPIRATORS OVERHEARD.\n\nA FARMER stood on the border of a meadow, and, with hands clasped upon\nthe handle of his axe, looked with disappointment at the appearance of\nthe grass. He shook his head sadly, and exclaimed aloud: \u201cAll labor and\nskill are useless if God does not bless the land!\u201d\n\nHe pushed his cap from his brow, and the expression of his face became\nmore discontented than before, when suddenly he raised his head,\nlistened, and gazed in the direction of the forest. His whole aspect\nnow changed; his eyes lighted up with joy at the sound of a beautiful\ntenor-voice merrily singing:\n\n  \u201cIf I were only king,\n  I would be just to all,\u201d etc.\n\nA gentleman on horseback soon became visible, followed at some distance\nby a second rider, who was evidently a servant. The gentleman, who was\nyoung and handsome, was dressed in gray; he wore his felt hat jauntily\non one side, thus leaving exposed his good-humored, intelligent\ncountenance, and his dark and brilliant eyes.\n\nAt the first curve of the road, he checked his horse. A thriving\nvillage is seen in the distance, and a palace belonging to the king\ncrowns the summit of the hill.\n\n\u201cFranz, do you not think the weather unusually pleasant to-day?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, your lordship.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know the reason why the atmosphere is so pure, Franz?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know, your lordship.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I will tell you,\u201d said the young gentleman, taking off his\nhat, and passing his right hand through his curly hair. \u201cThe air\nis invigorating and fresh because it is not breathed by the ladies\nand gentlemen of the court. I have often observed that, whenever\nthe caravans from the city come out here, the air becomes damp and\noppressive. Nature seems to shroud its loveliness in a mourning-veil.\nEvery shrub and flower shrinks, as it were, within itself, in the vain\nattempt to shut out the idle babbling of courtiers and the noxious\nsmell of musk which they use in such quantities. To-day, however,\nthe country is radiant in beauty; peace dwells everywhere, the most\nprofound stillness reigns, and the Spirit of God fills the heart,\ntherefore, Franz, I shall not return yet; you can ride home alone.\u201d\n\nHe sprang from his horse.\n\n\u201cGive me my portfolio and my plaid!\u201d\n\nThe servant handed him both.\n\nThrowing the plaid over his shoulders, the young count turned in the\ndirection of the woods, whose tall beech-trees covered the sides\nof a small hillock. The road ended in a circle surrounded by young\nfir-trees. Benches with comfortable backs invited the traveller to\nrest; but the count continued his walk until he reached a certain spot,\nwhen he seated himself upon a large moss-covered stone. Through an\nopening in the forest he saw the farmer, whose whole deportment and\nwalk again expressed care and reflection.\n\n\u201cHe also is a thinker,\u201d said the count to himself, \u201cand the subject\nof his meditation is doubtless more profitable to mankind than are\nthose of many who make pretensions to profound learning. As he stands\nthere, he is the very personification of care! He is evidently devising\nsome plan by which the waters of the little brook may be led into\nhis parched meadows. Idle work, my dear fellow! If you should succeed\nin turning its fertilizing streams into your land, and if you should\nenrich the soil with the sweat of your brow, the terrible military\nordinance will devour the fruits of your labor. If you have sons who\nare healthy and strong, they cannot be of assistance to you, for the\narmy will claim their service. The minister of war is insatiable in his\ndemands, and it is necessary that he should be so, for we are living in\nstrange times.\u201d\n\nHe continued to gaze musingly upon the scene before him. Gradually his\ncountenance assumed an earnest and almost solemn expression; his bright\neyes became dreamy, as if communing with spirits of the invisible\nworld, until, as though yielding to some mysterious impulse, he seized\nhis pencil, and began to write.\n\nSuddenly a gruff voice was heard. The poet is startled out of his\ndreams. Four elegantly dressed gentlemen are seen coming up the road,\nand approach the circle.\n\n\u201cWho can escape his fate?\u201d said the young count angrily. \u201cThe heavenly\nmuses are put to flight by hostile spirits; but what do I see?\u201d he\ncontinued, looking through the branches at the group. \u201cThree of\nthe most powerful men of the kingdom? Three master-masons and the\ngrandmaster of all the Freemasons within a circumference of three\nhundred miles? What can bring these sons of night to this peaceful\nspot? I hope they will not remain long enough to poison the fragrant\nair with their foul plotting and plans. Truly, their presence has\nalready effected a change: the sun does not shine as brightly, and it\nis becoming cloudy.\u201d\n\nHe then sat listening.\n\n\u201cI do not understand you, professor,\u201d said the person with the gruff\nvoice. \u201cTo say the least, it is a very singular fancy of yours to\ndefend the Jesuits.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo fancy at all, Herr Director; it is simply the result of knowledge,\u201d\nreplied the professor.\n\n\u201cThe knowledge acquired in your high-school is certainly wonderful,\u201d\nanswered the director, with a mocking laugh. \u201cBut your effort to defend\nthe Jesuits surpasses even the bounds of knowledge!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you scorn knowledge when right and truth are in question, you will\nsurely allow a man of sound judgment to have some respect for that\nwhich is founded on facts,\u201d said the university professor, with great\nwarmth.\n\n\u201cOh! you have my permission to say what you choose between these green\nwalls,\u201d exclaimed the director, pointing with his hand towards the\nyoung fir-trees.\n\n\u201cAnd you, most worshipful grandmaster\u2014do you also allow the free\nexpression of opinion?\u201d inquired the professor of a man with a gray\nbeard, whose eyes and features indicated a disposition of great\ncraftiness.\n\n\u201cCertainly; we are not in the masonic lodge,\u201d replied the gentleman\naddressed. \u201cI am not grandmaster here, but a simple chief-magistrate,\nBe careful, however, in your expressions, we might be overheard.\u201d\n\nThe professor walked around the circle, and looked in every direction.\n\n\u201cThere is no one within hearing distance,\u201d said he, returning.\n\n\u201cThis is growing interesting; I must take notes of what will\ntranspire,\u201d said the invisible count; and he at once commenced to write\ndown what he heard.\n\n\u201cOur order has determined upon the extermination of the Jesuits\u2014well!\nAs this resolution has been passed, it no longer admits of debate,\u201d\ncontinued the professor. \u201cI do not speak now as a Freemason, but as a\nclose observer of matters and things; and what do I see? Attacks on all\nsides upon the Jesuits. At Munich, our Masons have clothed themselves\nin the garment of Old Catholicity, that they might hurl from the\nstandpoint of belief their anathemas against the Jesuits. In Darmstadt,\nour first Masons even went so far as to appear in the garb of Luther,\nthat they might condemn the Jesuits from Protestant pulpits also, and\ndemand their expulsion by actual force. All our newspapers denounce the\nJesuits, and stir up a hatred of them among the people. But, gentlemen,\nin my estimation, the newspapers have gone too far; any man of common\nsense can convict them of falsehood and calumny. Here is a Bavarian\npaper of yesterday, called the _Kemptener Gazette_,\u201d said he, producing\nthe journal. \u201cListen to this article, which endeavors to incite the\nfears of the credulous.\u201d\n\nAnd the professor read:\n\n\u201cWhat are all the calamities which threaten and even destroy the human\nrace in comparison to the crimes of the Jesuits? For centuries they\nhave immolated thousands upon the scaffold, and justified their acts\nby appealing to an all-loving Deity. Children and their parents, the\nyoung and the old, virgins and matrons, have been sacrificed to their\ncruel and insatiable thirst for power. Amid, horrible torments and\nunspeakable sufferings, innumerable beings, despairing of the mercy of\nGod, have been put to death at their command. They have been the means\nof introducing treason and parricide into the world; they have artfully\nmanaged to incite with a word one nation against the other; while at\nthe same time they point with a hypocritical face to the cross, the\nsymbol of an all-governing love. But what caps the climax is that they\nseek to effect the ruin of men, not for _time_, but for _eternity_.\nWith unheard-of cruelty, they everywhere stifle spiritual freedom in\nits very birth. They have secretly murdered kings and emperors who\nwould not submit to their will. To obtain their end, they destroy the\nwelfare of nations, and humble the majesty of princes into the very\ndust. Like an evil spirit, they have triumphantly placed their yoke\nupon enslaved mankind, and they yet strive to carry out their base\ndesigns, as the experience of our own times teaches us\u2014in a word, they\nare the enemies with whom the spirit of truth has now to combat.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, gentlemen, I ask of you,\u201d said the professor, holding up the\npaper, \u201care not these accusations most ridiculous and absurd? A long\nchain of the gravest crimes and of the most diabolical designs are\nfastened upon the Society of Jesus, and yet not a single one of these\nallegations can be proved. They are wicked and stupid fabrications, and\ncannot but appear as such to a man of ordinary intelligence.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo an intelligent man, perhaps!\u201d answered the director. \u201cBut the\narticle is not written for that class of people, but only for the\nignorant, who are easily duped.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd we must remember,\u201d said one of the four Masons, \u201cthat the article\nfulfils its end; it is even well written; for it will fill the minds of\nthe common people with hatred and distrust of the Jesuits if they read\nsuch things of them.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfectly true, Herr Counsellor!\u201d said the director.\n\n\u201cThe end, indeed, sanctifies the means, we may say with truth,\u201d replied\nthe professor. \u201cLet us, however, not forget that the present attack\nupon the Jesuits will be recorded in history. A future age will judge\nfor itself, and I fear it will decide in favor of a society which in\nour days is assailed with such senseless fury. Posterity will look upon\nthe present treatment of the Jesuits as not only contemptible, but\nas cowardly and wicked. According to the testimony of centuries, the\nSociety of Jesus is the most active, the purest, the most influential\nand learned order of the Catholic Church. The Jesuits are acknowledged\nto be the best teachers, the most prudent instructors of youth, the\nmost experienced confessors, and the most zealous priests. They are\nknown as the vanguard of Rome; they are wonderful in mortification and\nin obedience, and are always ready to make any sacrifice whatever for\nthe church. I can prove this by innumerable passages from Protestant\nworks.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not necessary, Herr Professor!\u201d interrupted the grandmaster.\n\u201cThe Jesuits are no doubt excellent people. The society is a masterly\norganization; each member obeys without contradiction the commands of\nan experienced general; they form the strongest bulwark of Rome; for\nthat very reason, they must be suppressed. \u2018The Trowel or the Cross!\u2019\nthat is to be the watchword! The trowel, the symbol of Freemasonry,\nmust triumph over the cross, the symbol of Christianity. According to\nthe spirit and plan of our order, all religion must disappear from the\nface of the earth. The trowel must reign, the cross be broken. As the\nCatholic Church gives the strongest support to religious belief, and\nbecause the Jesuits are the most active propagators of the doctrine of\nChrist, it is necessary that the Jesuits should be exterminated.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Herr Counsellor, I agree with you,\u201d replied the professor.\n\u201cThe death-sentence has been pronounced upon the Jesuits, and must\nbe executed; but, to accomplish such a result, neither brutal force\nnor the interference of the government should be used; we should call\nknowledge to aid us in gaining the victory. There are perhaps two\nhundred Jesuits in the whole German Empire; thus there is one Jesuit\nto twenty learned men. Now, I ask you, will it not be disgraceful to\nour enlightened age if twenty well-informed doctors cannot render\ninefficient the activity of one Jesuit? Will it not be a neverending\ncause of shame to German science if it cannot gain the mastery over\nsuch a small number of unarmed and persecuted men? It is humiliating to\nmy pride to use such means for the extermination of this little band of\nenemies. Science must be made to destroy the Society of Jesus, but not\na decree issued in the spirit of the barbarous and tyrannical Nero!\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t talk to me about your sciences!\u201d said the grandmaster\nimpatiently. \u201cI am an old, experienced Freemason, and you may believe\nwhat I tell you. Science will not be able to disconcert even one\nJesuit. Do not forget, dear professor, that the Jesuits are proficient\nin all the sciences, and that they understand how to fight upon that\nground. We must not skirmish long with such an enemy; we must advance\nquickly, and must concentrate all our forces for the great battle. It\nmust now be decided\u2014the trowel or the cross! If the dominion of the\ncross is to cease, the religion of Jesus of Nazareth must disappear; if\nthe spirit of Freemasonry is to obtain the victory, then the Jesuits\nmust first be exterminated by every possible means.\u201d\n\nA deep murmur came from behind a large tree in the vicinity. The sound\nproceeded from the same farmer, who, having walked around his meadows,\nwas on his return home, when he heard voices in animated conversation,\nand he lost no time in hiding himself behind the tree. There he stood,\ntall and broad-shouldered, listening attentively; he would every now\nand then clinch his strong fists, and would dart fiery glances at the\nassembled group of Freemasons.\n\n\u201cThe most natural and efficacious means,\u201d remarked the professor,\n\u201cwould be a decree of suppression, which could be easily obtained\nfrom the Chamber of Deputies, the majority of whom belong actually or\nat least in spirit to our order. But the question is, Will the king\nconsent to it?\u201d\n\n\u201cBah! he is a narrow-minded man, who does not govern, but is governed!\u201d\nsaid the grandmaster contemptuously. \u201cOur Masons have excited his fears\nto such a pitch in regard to the pretensions of the infallible Pope\nthat he is ready at any moment to attack Rome.\u201d\n\n\u201cSplendid!\u201d said the count to himself, underlining the words in his\nnote-book: \u201cA narrow-minded man, who does not govern, but is governed!\u201d\n\n\u201cOur victory is certain!\u201d declared the counsellor. \u201cThe time for\na decisive battle could not be more favorable. The majority of\nintelligent people and of the working classes are without any\nreligion. The lower orders must be indoctrinated by our Masons and\napprentices; our newspapers must confuse and alarm them concerning\nthe claims of the infallible Pope. Besides, the German emperor is\na Freemason, the Crown-Prince of Germany is a Freemason, all the\nministers of our country are Freemasons, and many ministers of other\nGerman countries are Freemasons. In Spain, we are already so powerful\nthat the Grandmaster, Zorilla, gave the royal crown to a prince of\nhis own choice. In Rome, for 1800 years the seat of the popes, the\n\u201cGrand-Orient\u201d of our order will erect his seat above the chair of\nan imprisoned and helpless Pope. As I have already remarked, affairs\nare everywhere so propitious to our cause that the trowel will surely\nconquer the cross!\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is indeed your hour, and the power of darkness!\u201d thought the\ncount.\n\n\u201cOnly hear the villains!\u201d muttered the farmer behind the hedge, \u201cWhat\npious creatures these Freemasons are!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken in regard to one point,\u201d replied the professor. \u201cThe\nEmperor and the Crown-Prince of Germany are undoubtedly Freemasons;\nbut the real object of our World Union is not known to either of them.\nNeither William nor Fritz dreams that after the downfall of the altar\nfollows that of the throne. The cross is well adapted for the crown of\nprinces, but not the trowel. Suppose the emperor shall discover the\nfundamental law of our order? Do you think that he would espouse the\ncause of religion, and war against us?\u201d\n\n\u201cCare has been taken that he shall never know it,\u201d said the\ngrandmaster. \u201cDo not torment yourself with fears that will never be\nrealized!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf the German emperor could only hear these rascally Freemasons talk!\u201d\nthought the indignant farmer within himself. \u201cI must look closely at\nthese fellows.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, professor,\u201d inquired the grandmaster, \u201care you at last convinced\nthat the Jesuits must be first driven out, and that this can only be\ndone by force?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not convinced of your last assertion; but yet I submit, in\nobedience to my oath as a Freemason most worshipful grandmaster!\u201d\nreplied the professor. \u201cI shall endeavor, in my sphere of labor, to be\nrestlessly active, so that we may attain our great end. I shall do my\nbest to destroy religious faith in all the young men confided to me,\nby appealing always to the light of science. Our universities of the\npresent day are justly considered to be the most successful mothers of\nreligious unbelief. To the destruction of altars, to the downfall of\nthrones, to the universal fraternization of all nations by means of a\nuniversal republic without a God, without heaven, without hell; for\nliberty in our pleasures, for liberty of will, for liberty in life and\ndeath, shall my whole strength be dedicated in submission to the rule\nof our order!\u201d\n\nThe grandmaster nodded his head approvingly. Suddenly the group were\nstartled by the appearance of the farmer, who, no longer able to\ncontrol his wrath, stepped into the circle. Holding his axe in his\nhand, he gazed attentively at the strangers.\n\n\u201cWhat do you wish, good man?\u201d asked the grandmaster condescendingly.\n\n\u201cI have heard much about the Freemasons, and, as I now have a chance, I\nmust look at them a little.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well, this is fine work!\u201d replied the counsellor, concealing his\nperplexity by a loud cough.\n\n\u201cHow do you know that we are Freemasons?\u201d asked the director.\n\n\u201cI know it because I have been listening to your confessions,\u201d replied\nthe farmer.\n\nThe confusion now became general.\n\n\u201cWhat did you hear?\u201d asked the professor.\n\n\u201cI heard enough! But I must tell you this, you Freemasons, your\nundertaking will fail, for your motives are wicked,\u201d continued the\nfarmer, with rising indignation. \u201cYou say that you will expel the\nJesuits, and destroy and exterminate them? Slowly, gentlemen; the\npeople also will have something to say about that. We Catholics know\nwhat the Jesuits are. In the Bavarian Diet, some one said that the\nskulls of the Catholics should be beaten in. All right; but I tell you,\nFreemasons, that I will break with this my axe the skull of the first\none who dares to come near our parish for the purpose of driving away\nour dear, good Jesuit father. Only try it! Do you think,\u201d he exclaimed,\nwhile he shook his clenched fist at them, \u201cthat we Catholics intend to\nbe tormented by vagabonds and good-for-nothing fellows like you who do\nnot believe in a God, nor in a heaven, nor in a hell? Do you imagine\nthat we will allow ourselves to be trampled under foot, that we will\npermit our religion to be destroyed, our faith undermined, our priests\nabused and expelled? Do you think that we are such fools? Commence your\nwork, and you will see what will happen! We are not African slaves:\nwe are free Germans; you Freemasons would do well to keep out of the\nway. Our fists are stronger than your trowels, and defence, in case of\nnecessity, is lawful!\u201d\n\nThe dignitaries of the most powerful order in the world, observing the\nwild looks of the angry man, were silent.\n\n\u201cDo you see the cross upon the steeple of the church there?\u201d asked\nthe farmer, pointing to the village beyond. \u201cHow many such spires are\nthere not in Germany? And you wish to take down that cross from the\nchurch\u2014the cross upon which the Saviour has died for us\u2014and put on\nyour dirty mason-trowel? Ha! ha! that\u2019s too ridiculous!\u201d\n\n\u201cIs your pastor a Jesuit, my friend?\u201d inquired the professor, in a\nbland tone of voice.\n\n\u201cYes, indeed; our pastor is a Jesuit; he has been three years with us,\nbecause there is a scarcity of secular priests. And what a pastor he\nmakes! I can tell you, Freemasons, that our Jesuit father is so good,\nso zealous, so full of piety, that all of you put together are not fit\nto unloosen his shoes. Yes; you may scowl at me, but it is so! And\nthen, gentlemen, I have something else to say to you! If you think so\nmuch about freedom, and about the welfare of the people; if all your\nministers are Freemasons; and if you are all-powerful in the chambers,\nwhy do you heap burden after burden upon the shoulders of the people?\nWhy is it that the taxes are growing heavier every day? Why is it that\nthe farmers are pressed by the collectors as if they were grapes? Why\ndoes the war-budget constantly increase, so that we are in danger of\nbeing forced to work in the end only for the soldiers? See, Freemasons,\nthese are our troubles; you can, if you choose, help the oppressed\npeople; but I warn you to keep your hands away from the Jesuits and\nfrom our religion ... or ...\u201d and he made a threatening gesture, \u201cyou\nwill be sorry. Franz Keller, of Weselheim, from yonder village, has\nsaid it.\u201d\n\nHe placed his axe upon his shoulder, and walked away with long,\ndetermined strides, while the Freemasons preserved a deep silence.\n\nThe count laughed at their evident discomfiture.\n\n\u201cAnother significant proof of the powerful influence of the Jesuits,\u201d\nsaid the grandmaster. \u201cThe parish of Weselheim was formerly indifferent\nin regard to religious matters; but now they are made fanatical by\nhaving had a Jesuit among them for three years. He must leave!\u201d\ncontinued he angrily. \u201cThe clock of his activity has run down.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill the king receive us at his villa?\u201d asked the counsellor.\n\n\u201cOn the 14th of this month, at eleven o\u2019clock precisely!\u201d replied the\ndirector.\n\n\u201cIt is growing cold, gentlemen, let us return,\u201d remarked the\ngrandmaster, whereupon they all left the forest.\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA JESUIT AS A PASTOR.\n\nIN a meditative mood, the count walked towards the village. The serene\nand joyous expression of his handsome face had disappeared, and was\nreplaced by a grave earnestness.\n\n\u201cA valuable experience!\u201d said he to himself. \u201cSo \u2018The Trowel or the\nCross!\u2019 is to be the watchword of those who govern! Thrones are to be\nbroken over the ruins of the altars, so that, in the end, a general\nfraternization of mankind may, according to the spirit of Freemasonry,\ncrown the whole. Fraternization\u2014hem! The real meaning of all this is\nthat men who are not rich and are not liberals are to become the slaves\nof the liberals and the rich. The farmer was right: these Freemasons\nare wicked rascals, for they do not believe in God. And this spiritual\nrascality is, without doubt, more wicked and dangerous to the state\nthan open drunkenness. This farmer is a brave fellow; I like him!\u201d\ncontinued the count, laughing. \u201cHealthy in body and spirit, courageous,\nsincere, and free! Like a night-bird before the eagle, so also do these\nlight-hating Freemasons shrink before righteous and honest anger.\u201d He\nsauntered through the streets of the village, observed with pleasure\nthe universal cleanliness that prevailed, and returned politely the\nfriendly salutations of all who greeted him, after which he entered his\nhotel. When he had dined, and while reading the newspaper, his servant\nappeared.\n\n\u201cSome men are here, your lordship, who desire to speak with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho are they?\u201d\n\n\u201cGood people from the country, your lordship.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend them up!\u201d\n\nSlowly, and bowing respectfully, at least a dozen villagers entered the\nroom. The count at once recognized the tall form and broad shoulders of\nFranz Keller. The men were dressed in their Sunday attire, and their\nweather-beaten countenances were full of care and solicitude.\n\n\u201cWhat can I do for you, my friends?\u201d began the count, who saw their\nembarrassment.\n\n\u201cWe have come here on business, your lordship,\u201d said the leader of the\nlittle troop. \u201cI am the burgomaster of this place, and these men are\nthe aldermen.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am greatly rejoiced to make the acquaintance of the principal men of\nWeselheim,\u201d replied the young count kindly. \u201cWhat is the nature of your\nbusiness with me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell your lordship. For three years we have had a Jesuit father\nas our pastor\u2014a good, pious, and zealous priest. The government\nhas, for the last four months, endeavored to take him away from us,\nbecause he is a foreigner. He has received no less than three letters\nordering him to leave, but he will not desert his post. He says that\nthe government did not make him pastor of our church, but the bishop,\nand therefore government cannot dismiss him from the care of souls.\nBut because the Freemasons hate the Jesuits, and because they are\nall-powerful with the government, our pastor is to be taken away from\nus by force. The whole congregation are indignant at this, for it will\nbe difficult to find another pastor like him. If the gendarmes come, I\ndo not pledge myself that they will not be driven out of the village;\nwe all feel that it would be a sin crying to heaven if we allow a\npious, innocent man to be taken away by gendarmes like a thief. No; we\nshall never submit to such treatment! Now, this is our humble request\nto your lordship: to-morrow, or after to-morrow, our most gracious\nking will arrive at the palace yonder, and, since your lordship is the\nfriend of his majesty, the entire parish beg of you to speak in our\nbehalf, so that we may be able to keep our pastor.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you, Herr Burgomaster, and all the parish for the confidence\nthey place in me,\u201d said the count. \u201cAt the same time, I must confess\nthat it is a long time since I have heard any praise of the Jesuits;\nthe fashion is now to heap insult upon them, and to accuse them of\nevery known crime.\u201d\n\n\u201cI ask pardon, your lordship,\u201d said Keller; \u201conly those who do not know\nthe Jesuits will ever insult them. We know them. Our Jesuit father is a\nvery pious man; he has no fault\u2014or at least one only.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, what fault has he?\u201d inquired Count von Scharfenstein.\n\n\u201cHe gives away everything to the poor, your honor,\u201d replied the\nburgomaster. \u201cHe keeps nothing of what we give him; the lay brother who\nlives with him carries it away to others. A man must eat and drink well\nif he expects to work well.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery true!\u201d said Von Scharfenstein, hardly able to restrain a laugh.\n\u201cAnd because your pastor does not eat and drink well, he therefore does\nnot work well either.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! yes, your honor, oh! yes. I did not mean to say that. What I\nwanted to say was that our pastor works very hard, but that he does\nnot eat enough, and therefore looks pale and thin. We cannot make him\ngrow fat.\u201d And the burgomaster cast a satisfied glance at his own well\nnourished body. \u201cIf we give him the very best we have, he will not eat\nit, but gives it away, and that provokes us.\u201d\n\n\u201cConsole yourselves!\u201d answered Von Scharfenstein. \u201cThe poor to whom\nyour pastor gives the best he has will not be displeased with him for\nit. And for the very reason that he is such an incorrigible friend of\nthe poor, I shall speak to the king in his behalf.\u201d\n\nThe interview now came to an end.\n\n\u201cGod reward your honor!\u201d said each one of the delegation, as they bowed\nand took their departure.\n\nVon Scharfenstein, whose thoughts were generally in the clouds, and who\npaid very little attention to the course of things in the world around\nhim, walked thoughtfully up and down his room. The touching fidelity,\nlove, and reverence of the villagers for their priest, at a time when\nauthority was mocked at unless supported by brute force, excited in him\ngreat admiration.\n\n\u201cThe hatred of Freemasons for Jesuits is very natural,\u201d said he. \u201cThe\ngrandmaster is right: it will never be possible to plant the banner of\ninfidelity upon the ruins of the altar as long as the bravest soldiers\nof the church militant exist. This forcible expulsion of the society is\na political blunder. The case merits attention; I must take a look at\nthe theatre of action.\u201d\n\nHe put on his overcoat and hat, and went forth into the twilight.\nWell-freighted wagons were returning home from the fields. Those who\nmet saluted one another, or spoke a few words together. Children\ncarried small bundles upon their heads, grown persons dragged their\nburdens after them. It was a scene of animated activity. No swearing\nor angry word was heard, but the day\u2019s work ended in the most peaceful\nmanner. The same thing was repeated every evening during the sojourn of\nthe count in Weselheim, but, having never felt any interest in rural\nlife, he was astonished at all that he saw.\n\nIn the middle of the road, a heavily-laden wagon came to a stand-still;\nthe horses refused to proceed, notwithstanding the efforts of the\ndriver. The count could not but admire the patience of a man who did\nnot swear at or ill-treat his horses. Several peasants came to offer\nassistance. They pushed the wheels, but in vain, for the animals would\nnot move.\n\n\u201cI do not know what is the matter with the horses to-day,\u201d exclaimed\nthe driver. \u201cI have not overloaded them.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust a little too much, Jacob!\u201d said a voice.\n\nAt once all hats and caps are raised. A tall, thin form now approached.\n\n\u201cMay Jesus Christ be praised, your reverence!\u201d was the respectful\nsalutation of all the men.\n\n\u201cNow and for ever!\u201d answered the good priest. \u201cWell, Prantner, what has\nhappened?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour reverence, the horses will not stir!\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause they want to rest a little,\u201d replied the Jesuit. \u201cWe do the\nsame when we are tired; and it is a heavy, a very heavy load,\u201d said he,\nwith a glance at the towering height of the wagon.\n\n\u201cI have just told him that the wagon was overloaded,\u201d remarked another\npeasant, in a tone of reproach.\n\n\u201cPerhaps\u2014but Prantner knows that his horses are very strong, and\nhe therefore has great confidence in them,\u201d said the pastor. \u201cThey\nare splendid creatures,\u201d patting the broad necks of the horses, and\nstroking their manes. The horses commenced to snort, to toss their\nheads, and to paw the ground. \u201cAh! see, they like to be complimented,\u201d\nhe continued cheerfully. \u201cLet us always acknowledge merit, and that\nwhich seems difficult will then become easy. Now, Prantner, go on!\u201d\n\nThe priest had hardly stepped back, when the horses proceeded on their\nway without further urging.\n\n\u201cWas there ever any one like our pastor?\u201d exclaimed the peasants, in\nastonishment. \u201cHe understands everything.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere is he going, so late?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo Michael the carpenter, who is dying, and who refuses to be\nreconciled with his neighbor.\u201d\n\n\u201cMichael has always been very stubborn; may Almighty God grant him a\nhappy death!\u201d Saying which, the men dispersed.\n\nThe count, who had watched the proceedings, also went his way.\n\n\u201cThe leading spirit of this parish is evidently the Jesuit, and he\ndeserves to be,\u201d thought Von Scharfenstein.\n\nThe Angelus now rang; at once every head was uncovered; for the silvery\ntones of the bell reminded the villagers of the incarnation of the Son\nof God. From all the houses resounded the angelic salutation, sometimes\nuttered by the clear voices of the children.\n\n\u201cWhat a pity that those men of the trowel are not here to shake their\nempty heads compassionately at the pious usages of an ignorant but\nbelieving people!\u201d said the count. \u201cIn my opinion, a people who are\nreminded thrice during the day of the incarnation of the Son of God,\nand who are admonished to walk in the presence of the Omniscient, are\nbetter than a people who have no faith in either the justice or the\nmercy of God.\u201d\n\nBefore the windows of a house there stood several persons, principally\nwomen. The count approached out of curiosity, and looked into a\nwell-lighted room. The table near the wall was covered with a white\ncloth. Between two burning candles stood a crucifix and a holy-water\nvase. At the bedside of the dying man sat the Jesuit father, making\nimpressive exhortations. He held the hand of the sick man in his own,\nand would frequently bend his head towards him, as though expecting\nsome reply. At the foot of the bed knelt a young man, who covered his\nface with both hands. Two young girls and an aged woman stood near with\nsad and depressed countenances.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter here?\u201d inquired the count, in a low tone.\n\n\u201cAlas! sir, it is a sad affair!\u201d replied one of the women. \u201cMichael the\ncarpenter is dying, and the priest cannot give him the last sacraments.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause Michael has for a long time been at enmity with his neighbor.\nFor the last eight days, our pastor has come several times a day to\nvisit him, in order to persuade him to be reconciled; but Michael will\nnot listen to any advice. It is a pity for any one to be so malicious\nand obstinate.\u201d\n\nAt this moment, there was a movement in the sick-room. The young man\nwho knelt at the foot of the bed rose hastily, and left the house.\n\n\u201cAt last, at last!\u201d exclaimed a voice, \u201cMichael has again become a\nChristian!\u201d\n\nA man was now seen to enter the room; he was the carpenter\u2019s neighbor.\nThe dying Michael held out his emaciated hand to him, which the\nneighbor took, although nearly blinded by tears. The Jesuit said a few\nwords, and the reconciled enemies again shook hands. The women standing\nnear the window were loudly sobbing. Von Scharfenstein was also greatly\nmoved by what he witnessed.\n\nThe priest left the house, and hurried to the church.\n\n\u201cHe will now bring the holy viaticum,\u201d said a voice.\n\n\u201cThanks be to God!\u201d said another.\n\nThe count returned slowly to the hotel.\n\n\u201cI have until now examined only superficially into the activity of the\nJesuit father, and must confess that he works admirably\u2014light and\ndarkness combat each other, it cannot be otherwise. The Freemasons are\nnaturally the sworn enemies of an order which fulfils its mission with\nzeal and prudence. The trowel will never attain an ascendency as long\nas the cross is defended by such brave soldiers, so well trained to\ncombat!\u201d\n\n TO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT NUMBER.\n\n\n\n\nCOUNTRY LIFE IN ENGLAND.\n\nBY AN ENGLISH CATHOLIC.\n\nTHE \u201cintelligent foreigner,\u201d that convenient critic whom Englishmen are\nso fond of using as a mouthpiece for their own often just criticisms,\nis supposed to have seen little or nothing of England unless he has\nvisited the country mansions for which our island is famous. And\nthis is very true, even if he have been touring in the Lake country,\ntaking notes in the \u201cBlack Country\u201d around Wolverhampton, inspecting\ncotton-mills in the North, or admiring the gigantic human engine called\nthe \u201cCity\u201d in London. All these are phases of English life, yet none\nis so distinctively English as life in agricultural neighborhoods.\nAfter all, social life is the most visible test of difference of\nnationality, and although the uniformity of the XIXth century seems to\nhave fallen like snow upon the world, covering its hedges and fields,\nlevelling its hillocks with its valleys, and hiding alike its various\nflowers and different weeds, yet here and there some landmarks of the\nold social systems still hold their heads above this uninteresting\npall of sameness. The English are traditionally tenacious of their\nindividuality; gracefully so at home, boastfully, and, at times rather\nabsurdly so, abroad. But the indomitable \u201cBritish tourist\u201d is too well\nknown to claim much attention; his personality is better expressed by\ncaricature than by sober description.\n\nCountry life is often imitated abroad, but the copy is at best but\na sorry caricature, for this institution of social England cannot\nbe transplanted, as is evident by a very simple reason. It has its\nroots in the whole moral, political, and physical system of the\nSaxon race; it comes of medi\u00e6val and feudal feeling; it is bound up\nwith the territorial traditions that hitherto have been England\u2019s\nbulwarks as much and more than her navy, her insular position, or\nher parliamentary institutions. It is worth notice that in France\nthe beginning of the great Revolution was the centralization of all\nsocial interests in Paris and its court. Landed proprietors envied the\ncourt office-holders; they contrasted their \u201cdull\u201d existence with the\nbrilliant and meretricious pageantry that framed the lives of their\nluckier friends, and, hurrying to join in the profitless triumphs\nor even the disgraceful successes of certain courtiers, they became\nabsentees, spent more than their mortgaged and encumbered lands would\nyield, had recourse to money-lenders, lost all hold on the sympathy of\ntheir tenants, and finally incurred the hatred of some and the contempt\nof all. The only nobles who, during the Revolution, could count on a\nguard of faithful defenders and practical adherents, were those of\nBrittany\u2014the rugged country gentlemen whose lives were spent among\nthe tenantry, and whose knowledge of farming and hunting made them the\ndaily companions of the class whom they headed. When the storm burst,\nthe peasants of La Vend\u00e9e alone were faithful to those who had ever\nbeen faithful to them, while the court favorites were betrayed by the\nvery servants whose truculence they had mistaken for attachment.\n\nThis unfortunate system of neglect never prevailed in England to the\nsame extent as it did in France, though, during the brilliant reign of\nCharles II., some poison of this kind began to creep into the habits of\nthe landed gentry. Upon the whole, the English lords of the soil have\njustly and generously lived _for_ as well as _upon_ their possessions,\nand, if we have not had a \u201cReign of Terror,\u201d this is one of the chief\nreasons. The great land-owners of a county (we speak specifically of\nthe midland counties) divide among them the municipal and political\noffices; the Lord-Lieutenant, the High Sheriff, the M. P., the local\nmagistrates, are all gentlemen and property-holders, and personally\ninterested in the individual progress of the county. Each manor-house\nis a petty court of justice, and offenders of a minor sort, such as\npoachers, window-breakers, and the like, are tried and sentenced\nwith exemplary despatch as well as impartiality by the squires of\nthe neighborhood. There is generally a yearly agricultural show,\nand as almost all the gentlemen are cattle-breeders, or keep studs\nfor hunting or racing purposes, and all the ladies are more or less\npoultry-fanciers, the whole community meets with equally eager pleasure\nupon common ground. The yeomanry and militia, which answer to the rural\nnational guard in other European countries, are formed of well-to-do\nyoung farmers whose pride in their accoutrements or horses is a healthy\ntoken of sound national feeling; the officers are the gentlemen of\nthe county, the same who sit upon the bench, and who entertain their\nmilitary tenants at the annual rent-dinner. As for this gathering, it\nhas no ominous meaning for the thriving men who attend it; the meeting\nis signalized by an unlimited flow of good spirits, of kindly feeling,\nand, occasionally, of local and rural wit. True, the speechifying is at\ntimes prolix, and the number of toasts alarmingly great; the smoke of\nthe farmers\u2019 pipes becomes sometimes rather dense, and the wit turns to\npleasantry which has a slightly \u201cheady\u201d flavor like the wine, no doubt;\nbut, for all that, there is nothing more reassuring in a political\npoint of view than such a gathering, and nothing more charming to\nan imaginative mind than this unfeigned hospitality and baronial\ngood-fellowship.\n\nIt might be said, speaking broadly, that, \u201cnext to a gentleman, there\nis nothing like a farmer.\u201d\n\nThe farmer has his pride of caste and descent as eminently as any child\nof Saxon earls or of Norman barons; his family have often lived on\nthe same land, under the same roof, and owned the same allegiance to\na long uninterrupted line of noble landlords for centuries back. Of\nnothing is he prouder than of this, and when, as is often the case, he\nentertains the family of his lord, nothing can be simpler, grander,\nand more utterly gentleman-like than his conduct. No straining after\neffect, but homely and lavish abundance; no attempt at fine speeches,\nbut cordial and undisguised rejoicing; respect that is not the contrary\nto independence, but the very assertion and expression of it. In one\nestate, it happened, perhaps about a hundred or more years ago, that\nan Earl of G\u2014\u2014 wooed and married the pretty daughter of one of his\nchief tenants; both families are living now on the same lands, and,\nwhen the farmer looks towards the chancel of the parish church from his\ncapacious pew in the nave, he sees the marble monument of his beautiful\nancestress, who was twice the wife of a man distinguished by noble\nbirth, and generally beloved for his goodness. (After the death of her\nfirst husband, she married his Cousin Tom, the great local sportsman\nof his times.) Her portrait, in her countess\u2019 robes and ermine-lined\ncoronet, hangs conspicuously in the dining-room of the family mansion,\nwhile her two successive husbands are represented not far from her, the\none in the gorgeous court dress of a peer, the other in the familiar\ngreen velvet hunting-coat, with a fox-hound by his side.\n\nThe farmers of the midland counties are often land-owners on their own\naccount, and, far from being indifferent or adverse to sport, they are\nits chief encouragers. Fox-hunting is an instinct with them\u2014another\nlikeness they bear to their landlords. You never hear a complaint of\nfields ridden over, or crops injured; the owner will gallop over his\nown furrows, or break through his own fences, utterly reckless of\nanything but the pursuit of the fox. Meanness is a thing unknown to\nthem, and yet you will hardly meet many who are extravagant. There is\na broadness of character, an incapacity for doing or thinking anything\npetty, a love of Old-World customs and hereditary modes of thought,\nthat seem to keep them out of the selfish narrowness born of modern\ncommerce, and, while it makes them less sharp, less peculating, makes\nthem also incomparably more lovable.\n\nSurrounded by such people, of whom they are the pets and the pride, the\nchildren of the landlords cannot fail to grow up healthy in mind and\nbody, full of fun and frankness, loving country sports and pastimes,\nlearning early how to manage land and crops, entering heartily into\nthe feelings and wishes of those they will one day be called upon to\nrule, noting the idiosyncrasies and carefully handling the prejudices\nof their early comrades and future co-laborers. A bond of union,\nfriendship, and help is thus formed which grows stronger every year,\nand stronger still with each succeeding generation. The old men and\nwomen, whose place is by the capacious hearth, seem to live just long\nenough to tell their master\u2019s grandchildren how they danced at his\n\u201ccoming of age\u201d fifty years ago, while their own little grandchildren\nlaugh as they think that, in a few years more, there will be another\n\u201ccoming of age,\u201d and that they, too, will dance at the old hall, and\ntaste the wonderful ale their father told them of when they passed the\nghostly stairs leading down to the great cellar.\n\nThen come the weddings of the daughters of the house, and, as they have\nbeen familiarly known in the village nearest their home by all the\npoorer cottage tenants and the Sunday-school children, the young brides\nfind the whole population personally enthusiastic over each detail of\nthe ceremony. Young men and girls have seen the ladies of the \u201chouse\u201d\nbringing cordials and delicacies to their poor dying parents, and\nstrewing costly flowers over their plain coffins in the churchyard; and\nthey remember this as the same fair girl whom they saw minister to them\nin their sorrow, takes upon herself another and a lifelong ministry\nwith the hopeful trust of youth and the holy certainty of love. Again,\nas the bride comes forth, the children remember the feasts in the\ngrounds, the armful of buns and cakes thrown into their pinafores at\nleaving, the delightful romps on the lawn, the adventurous row round\nthe pond which their imagination magnified into a stormy sea\u2014all the\npleasures, out-doors and indoors, which were associated with the sight\nand presence of that slender, white-robed, and white-crowned figure.\nThus, while there are class distinctions in rural England, there are\nno class _divisions_, and servants and masters, landlords and tenants,\nform, as it were, one clan with common interests and reciprocal\nsympathies.\n\nThen, life in the country is so much more individual than in town. All\ntastes are there easily gratified; books and magazines are constantly\npouring down from London; guests, not compulsory, as is the genus\n\u201cmorning caller\u201d in town, who lounges in utterly exhausted, and asks\nlanguidly whether \u201cLady So-and-so\u2019s ball last night was not perfectly\ndelightful?\u201d while his general air of boredom proclaims that he is\nsurfeited with all mundane _delights_\u2014guests not such as this inane\nspecimen of humanity, but chosen friends, gay, witty, brilliant, are\nat hand at the shortest notice for those whose life is cut out for\nsociety; morning rambles for the solitary; moonlight effects for the\nromantic; hours of leisure for the studious; a wide field of usefulness\nfor the charitable; a matchless opportunity for indulging in the\nwoman-gossip, without which that essentially English institution,\nfive o\u2019clock tea, would be \u201cflat, stale, and unprofitable\u201d; and last,\nnot least, the best chances for marriage that any sort of social\nintercourse can afford.\n\nThe only drawback to this state of things is that it sometimes becomes\na little too artificial. Even rusticity may be aped, and, indeed,\nthis is the tendency of the day, as it was the tendency in former\ndays also, when shepherdesses were represented by ladies of fashion\nin silk skirts, beribboned crooks, and high-heeled shoes. But this\npseudo-rusticity spoils the real, tangible pleasures of life in the\ncountry. Studied simplicity is worse than studied art. Young ladies\n\u201cgot up\u201d like Dresden china are not peasants, and have neither the\ncharms nor the merits of peasants. They are probably _blas\u00e9es_, and so\nmiss the freshness symbolized by their costume; and they are incapable\nof work, and so miss the usefulness also distantly suggested by their\ndress. In one expressive word, they are a _sham_.\n\nThere are many houses, however, where healthful pleasure is dominant,\nand no fine-ladyism finds favor\u2014houses where the chapel is not far\nfrom the drawing-room, and where masters and servants, guests and\nhosts, meet silently to greet their Maker before they enjoy his gifts\nfor the day. Then comes the ten o\u2019clock gathering round the breakfast\ntable\u2014a picture in itself, with bright flame-colored flowers amid\nthe delicate white glass and china, and pretty faces joyously eager\nfor the day\u2019s programme of amusements. Perhaps there are ruins to be\nseen\u2014a great resource in country visiting\u2014at all events, there is a\nchurch. The churches are certainly one of the proudest inheritances\nof the old land, and the way in which they have been preserved speaks\nwell for the naturally reverential turn of the Saxon mind. In every\ncounty, some distinctive feature is visible; in Kent, hardly anything\nis used in churches but flint, and the bells are generally hung in a\nsquare massive tower instead of a steeple. In the midland counties,\non the contrary, steeples are a great feature; there is one at a\nlittle village called Ketton, which is peculiarly fine, though it\ncertainly looks too heavy for the church it crowns. Wicliffe\u2019s church,\nat Lutterworth, is a standard sight for the guests of a large old\nfamily mansion near by; you are shown the pulpit said to be Wicliffe\u2019s\nown, and, in one of the aisles, his tomb, with a long Latin epitaph\nsufficiently bombastic and untruthful, as it states that, despite of\nmonks and bishops, he instructed the populace in plain Gospel truth,\nand was the first to translate the Bible into the vernacular! But\nLutterworth church has for us of the old faith a more interesting\nmemorial of the \u201cgood old days.\u201d This consists in a very primitive\nfresco representing the resurrection of the dead. The colors are not\nmuch varied, and the draperies are quaintly angular; yet this early\neffort of art is far more simply and honestly Christian than many of\nthose skilful productions of later periods, when the painter thought\nmore of the fame his execution of a subject might bring him than of\nthe solemn truth contained in the subject itself. Here we see Our Lord\nseated on some very solid-looking clouds, while below, on the right\nside, the angels are helping the good out of their sepulchres, and,\non the left, the devils doing the same service to the wicked. Some\nof the tombs are open, as if burst asunder by an explosion, and the\nskeletons stand bolt upright; some are half closed, and their occupants\ncreeping quietly out; while in others the disjointed bones are seen,\nnot yet rebuilt into human shape, or a skeleton is detected half\nclothed with flesh, and some bones still protruding in their original\nbareness. Much the same scene is portrayed on the left side, but the\nexpressions even in the skeletons are very different; the attitudes\nare distorted, and the impish figures of the demons prominently drawn.\nIf there is a lack of harmony and beauty in the whole composition, it\nis quite compensated for by the evident earnestness of the artist,\nthe gravity of the angels\u2019 demeanor, and the reverent intention which\nanimates the grotesque _ensemble_. As an arch\u00e6ological memorial, it is\ninvaluable, as very few such specimens of Catholic art of so early a\ndate (certainly no later than the XIIIth century) are in existence in\nEngland.\n\nSome of the country churches are beautifully restored according to old\nCatholic models, and, with the restoration of the ancient worship,\nmight again become what they were at the time they were christened\nby those suggestive names, All Hallows\u2019, S. Mary\u2019s, S. Chad\u2019s.\nOthers, however are terribly neglected, though this is a fault fast\ndisappearing, together with the fox-hunting, easy-going parsons of the\nGeorgian era, and all other laxities of an unusually stagnant age. The\nmusic in these country churches is not always equal to the imposing\nexterior, a harmonium in the choir being sometimes all there is\nwherewith to guide and sustain the voices. Still, this is a step in the\nright direction, as formerly the utmost a village church could boast\nof was an orchestra composed of the local shoemaker with a dilapidated\nfiddle and the smith with a bass-viol out of tune. Any self-elected,\noccasional amateur with a strong or a thrilling voice would be, of\ncourse, a welcome addition, but the instrumental groundwork might be\nalways depended upon. Most churches near family seats have remarkable\nmonuments, some of the ancient Elizabethan style, with rows of decorous\nsons and daughters praying in bas-relief at the feet of their dead\nparents, their quaint costume, heavy-folded robes, and immense ruffles\nseeming marvellously to suit the immobility of the material in which\nthey are sculptured; some, again, dating back to the times of the\nCrusaders, but many, unfortunately, of the pseudo-Grecian Renaissance,\nwhich to a Catholic mind seem both irreverent and absurd. Fancy a Cupid\nwith eyes bandaged and torch inverted as an emblem of that sacred grief\nfor the dead which is inseparably mingled with the steadfast hope of\nthe Christian for the day of resurrection! Or again, as we once heard\na sarcastic friend aptly express it, a woman crying over a tea-urn!\nReally, some of these monuments are no better than that, and deserve\nno other description. How much more dignified are those ancient Gothic\ntombs where the quiet, stately figures of a knight and his wife, a\nbishop, a magistrate, lie as on a bed, in the sleep of expectation,\nnot in a ridiculous simulation of life, nor symbolized by some vulgar\nheathen myth.\n\nA visit to the parish church is an ordinary recreation on the first\nmorning of a guest\u2019s stay at a country-house, after which there will\nvery likely be croquet, that eminently modern and English contrivance\nwhich is pretty enough if one could only make up one\u2019s mind to consider\nmen and women nothing more than grown-up children. A great deal of care\nis often expended on the croquet lawn, and ladies are even careful\nin the choice of a croquet costume. A lounge through the grounds,\nadmiring the host\u2019s specimen trees\u2014the Wellingtonia is generally the\nchief attraction\u2014and sauntering through the hot-houses, occupies the\ntime till luncheon. Most Englishmen have a passion for rare trees and\nshrubs, and often carry home from distant countries seeds and cones\nfor their grounds at home. We have seen a lovely Ravenna pine, grown\nfrom a cone picked up in the celebrated forest of Ravenna; every other\nshrub of its kind perished from the effects of the climate, while\nthis solitary one throve well, and filled a considerable space in the\ngarden. The copperbeech is a very favorite specimen tree in England,\nand looks beautiful among the shaded greens of limes, foreign oaks,\nand fir-trees. It is generally the ladies of a household to whose\nshare fall the hot-houses and the flower-garden, but in one place\nin Cheshire, where the visitor is unfailingly taken through miles\nof glass, the whole thing is under the special supervision of the\nmaster of the house. Lord E\u2014\u2014 of T\u2014\u2014 is an old man, and not very\nactive, on account of his impaired health; but, being passionately\nfond of horticulture, he spends half his day in his hot-houses. The\norchid-houses, particularly, are a perfect marvel; there are eighteen\nor twenty species of these lovely flowers in bloom at all times of the\nyear, and the conservatory into which some of these glass passages lead\nis a palace of camellias, azalias, and other rare and delicate flowers.\nThe garden and grounds are mostly a wilderness of rhododendrons,\nof which magnificent, far-spreading bushes cover even the islets\nof the artificial lakes. But the most beautiful of Lord E\u2014\u2014\u2019s\nfloral possessions is the fernery, where seven or eight New Zealand\narborescent ferns spread their palmlike branches overhead, hiding the\nglass roof above them, and suggesting the earthly paradise to the least\nimpressionable mind. The ground at their base is covered with rock-work\novergrown with mosses and ferns of various sorts, and water trickles\nhiddenly in the tangle, its very sound denoting coolness and repose.\n\nIn the autumn and winter, the men of the party disappear after\nbreakfast, and return, tired with sport or laden with game, about\nfive o\u2019clock; but in summer, during the brief interval between the\nLondon season and the 1st of September, the pleasures of the ladies\nare shared with their knights. A picnic is often the most amusing\nresource for a day, and it would be needless to describe it; but what\nis not so common an occurrence in the country is a breakfast, that is,\na two o\u2019clock reception in the open air, and a magnificent spread of\ncold _chefs-d\u2019\u0153uvre_ of the culinary art. Let us suppose the _locale_\nto be this: a pretty piece of water running here and there into\ncreeks fringed with bulrushes and water-lilies, and a queer little\nerection of no classifiable style of architecture, neither pavilion\nnor villa, but very convenient and even sufficiently picturesque.\nClematis and honeysuckle climb over its walls, and to the front is a\nrather irregular lawn which is partly carpeted for the occasion. In\nEngland, we are never quite sure of not getting our feet damp, and\nthe flimsy summer toilets appropriate to this social festivity would\nbe but a slender protection against wet weather. All the county, far\nand near, is asked\u2014brides just returned from their honeymoon trip;\nold stay-at-home fogies, childlike in the pleasure they exhibit on\nthis novel occasion; merry young people bent on enjoying themselves to\nthe utmost. One old lady has confidentially informed her best friend\nabout a wonderful new bonnet she has bought on purpose, and which\nturns out to be something \u201cfearfully and wonderfully made.\u201d It is\ncurious to see the many different kinds of vehicles that draw up at\nthe door of \u201cFort Henry.\u201d Old chaises driven by the most ancient (and\ndelightfully tyrannical) of family coachmen; queer little low cars,\ncalled by the complacent owner \u201cNorwegian cars,\u201d drawn by a diminutive\npony resembling a Shetland; hired flies from the country town; open\nbarouches of unimpeachable make, but painfully, suggestive of the\n\u201cshop\u201d; two-wheeled dog-carts, the prettiest carriage for the country,\ndriven by young unmarried land-owners whose arrival causes a stir among\nthe \u201cmerry maidens,\u201d as Sir Gawain called his pretty companions in\nTennyson\u2019s _Holy Grail_; lastly, a large \u201cbrake,\u201d or capacious car,\nfilled with cross-seats, on which a whole party from some neighboring\nmansion is comfortably and amicably packed; for not only are neighbors,\nfriends, and acquaintances asked, but any visitors they may happen to\nhave staying with them. When all are gathered, the luncheon begins;\nand certainly the table is a masterpiece of floral decoration. The\ncook, too, has surpassed himself, and the rarest wines and fruits are\nlavishly added to the more substantial hospitality. The ladies\u2019 dresses\nare a _parterre_ in themselves; the prettiest things that taste can\ndictate are worn for this _f\u00eate_, and the beautiful peacocks that range\nthe banks of the lake must find themselves rivalled for once in their\nown domain. How different is this from a London \u201cbreakfast\u201d! Here we\nhave no simulated _ennui_, no cadaverous looks resulting from sleepless\nnights and constant dissipation, no hurry to get away, no empty forms\nof hypocritical civility. It is almost a family gathering. After\nluncheon, the boats are ready. Large and small\u2014the largest manned by\nfour stalwart \u201ckeepers,\u201d hereditary retainers of the family\u2014these\nboats are quickly filled; and, while the \u201cstate barge\u201d (so to speak)\nsolemnly carries the elders of the party around the pretty lake, the\nsmaller skiffs, rowed by amateur oarsmen, and filled with a laughing\nfreight of girls, go off to try the famous echo, or to sing glees\nnear the old bridge at the lower end. This is not all the music,\nhowever; a band is stationed in a boat that follows the grand barge,\nor sometimes stops to let the guests hear the echo of a few loud notes\nsounded on the horn. The effect of the music, the echo, the gaily\nringing laughter of the younger guests as they row swiftly from place\nto place, is like a reminiscence of the days of Paul Veronese and his\npleasure-loving Venetian companions. At one end of the lake there is\nan old horse-chestnut, whose branches stretch far out over the water,\nand then droop into it, forming a green vault over a shady little nook.\nIt is difficult to steer a boat well in; therefore no boat passes by\nwithout trying. At the other end, the water is choked with weeds and\ntall bulrushes, and the plantation slopes to the brink, with beautiful\nsunset lights playing on its Scotch firs, and bringing out the blue\ngreen of their foliage in peculiar contrast with their dinted, reddish\nstems; now and then a peacock\u2019s harsh cry is heard, or the water-fowl\ntake a swift, low rush over the surface of the water, while the swans\nmove about as undisturbedly as if the scene were to them an everyday\noccurrence. Presently the sun sets; the boats unload, and the carriages\nbegin to get ready again. A few stragglers, probably the host\u2019s own\nvisitors, who have not far to go home, take a stroll up to the graceful\nbark temple raised on the hillock opposite the lake; the view is\npretty from there, and the whole thing looks like an animated English\nwater-color.\n\nBut this is not all the pleasure that a country visit affords: a\ngreat resource lies in _tableaux vivans_. Very little trouble is\nnecessary; in some houses, a small stage is kept in readiness, or can\nbe extemporized in an hour, just when the performance is agreed upon.\nPictures and poems are laid under contribution; sometimes a particular\ngarment evidently suggests such and such a use, and a suitable\ntableau is got up to exhibit it; and some costumes are so very easy\nof arrangement that they are naturally chosen. The \u201cHuguenot Lover,\u201d\nby Millais, is a very favorite scene, so is \u201cTitian\u2019s Daughter\u201d; and\nthere are \u201cFaith, Hope, and Charity,\u201d or other allegorical figures,\nalways at hand to fill up any gap in the inventive genius of the\nperformers. But the best series we can think of is one\u2014not a little\nambitious\u2014representing dramatically the story embodied in Tennyson\u2019s\nsong, \u201cHome they brought her Warrior dead.\u201d How often we have listened\nto those words, so mournfully sung! The first tableau is very rich in\ndetails; the year-old bride, in the gorgeous white and gold embroidered\nrobe which she had donned to meet her husband, sits tearless and pale\nin the centre, her dark hair escaping from the jewelled fillet, her\nwhite hands hard pressed together. The body of her husband lies at\nher feet covered with a dark cloak, his pallid face just revealed,\nand the four men who have borne him in stand in sorrowful silence\nin the background, while the attendant maidens press round their\nmistress, each dressed in some graceful, flowing costume. Any amount of\nornamentation, such as tapestry, vases, porcelain, jewellery, would be\nin keeping with the tableau and enhance its beauty. The second scene\n(the curtain being dropped for a moment) is the same, with the addition\nof a hoary old nurse placing her child in the widowed mother\u2019s arms,\nwhile the bereaved one herself turns on the babe a look of passionate\nand agonized yearning. The child is not a very easy part of the tableau\nto manage, and it might, strictly speaking, be left out; still, the\nstory is more completely told thus, and its representation considerably\nimproved.\n\nThese are only a few of the numerous and variable pleasures to be\nenjoyed by a large gathering of friends: the winter brings others\npeculiar to itself.\n\nA _meet_ is a very pretty sight, but never more so than when it takes\nplace in front of an old manor where the hunting-breakfast is going on.\nThis carries one back to the days of our grandfathers, and gives to the\nsport of fox-hunting a certain traditional air of poetry. The servants,\nwhose livery is almost a costume in itself, carry trays of substantial\nrefreshments and foaming tankards of old ale among the farmers and\nprofessional sportsmen, while the friends and county neighbors of\nthe host circulate through the house, lighting up our XIXth century\ndead-level of dress by their scarlet, or, to speak more technically,\ntheir pink coats. This word is used to denote the color the coat\n_ought_ to have after a good sporting season; for it is as inglorious\nin a true sportsmen to wear a new and undiscolored garment as it would\nbe for a soldier to bear an unharmed standard or unbroken weapon out of\nthe battle. In many counties, the full dress for dinner of those who\nare known as sportsmen is a scarlet coat, the rest of the dress being\nthe ordinary costume of our day; and very gratifying it is to see the\nold custom kept up by the gentlemen of the midland counties, where\nfox-hunting is in its glory. At the meet, not a few ladies appear, some\non horseback, devoted followers of their brothers and husbands in the\nchase, some in carriages, with their little children prettily dressed\nin red, or otherwise suggestively clad. The host\u2019s wife or daughters\ncome out among the hounds, perhaps in the graceful riding-habit, or\nmore often in jaunty little cloth suits, with red feathers coquettishly\npeeping out of a sealskin cap. The hounds are all collected in front of\nthe hall-steps, and answer whenever called by name by the huntsmen. At\nlast the cavalcade is off, and winds past the margin of the park and\ngrounds, till the sound of the horn and the crack of the whip die away\nin the distance, to be heard again a few hours later, when the whole\nfield, after making a circuit of, say, ten miles, returns to some cover\nnear the house, where the unhappy fox is caught at last. Boys follow\nthe hounds as soon as they can ride, and, indeed, sometimes perform\nfeats that make them heroes in a small way in the eyes of their\ncompanions. A few years ago, the youngest son of the chief land-owner\nof the Cotswold Hills in Gloucestershire, distinguished himself in this\nway, and, upon a tiny gray pony, Asperne by name, kept so close to the\nhuntsmen that he was always first in at the death, and many a time was\nthe first to break a gap through a hedge or a stone wall, through which\nthe whole field would follow him. He often brought home \u201cthe brush\u201d (a\nfox\u2019s tail), and the sportsmen from the opposite side of the county\nused to ride ten or twelve miles to the next meet to see the wonderful\nboy whose exploits and reckless daring were in every one\u2019s mouth.\n\nThe early autumn, before the fox-hunting has regularly begun, brings\nits own pleasures with it, one of which is a nutting expedition.\nThis generally involves a tea-picnic\u2014a far more amusing affair than\nthe conventional mid-day meal known by that name, and devoted to the\nconsumption of sandwiches, cold meat, salad, and soda-water. This\ntea-picnic has often occupied a pleasant afternoon within our own\nrecollection, especially when a very informal party of young foreign\nguests was gathered at E\u2014\u2014 House. There was a representative of\nGermany, a young man high in office at the former Hanoverian court,\nwho bore a remarkable likeness to Prince Albert, and to whom the queen\neven spoke of this, to her, touching fact. Very fresh and childlike was\nthis young Prince S\u2014\u2014, and very different from certain of his English\ncontemporaries, who, at eighteen, declare that life is a _bore_, and\namusement a sham. These are the men who discredit our century, and\nbelie nature herself. They affect to have no faith in woman and no\nhope in religion. We have known one of these when he first began to\ngo into society. He was fresh and charming, said the most innocent,\nboyish things in a fearless, truthful way that was especially winning.\nHe excelled in all social pursuits, and rejoiced in all healthy\namusements. Add to this that he was uncommonly good-looking, with dark\nhair and eyes such as are not often met with in England, and was an\nonly son, heir to a fine Northern property, part of the family house\ndating as far back as the XIIth century. We met him two seasons later,\nand he was hardly recognizable. The same handsome features, but with a\nwearied, listless air marring them; in his voice no animation, in his\nmanner not a trace of that early frankness that was his greatest charm.\nHe used to seem like a girl of seventeen; now he was, morally speaking,\na misanthrope of five and thirty! He owned himself that all amusements,\neven dancing (which was a special accomplishment of his), _bored_ him,\nand that there was nothing but pigeon-shooting that excited him! Even\nduring the famous matches at Hurlingham (a villa near London where\nthe pigeon-shooting is done, and which has become of late one of the\nmost _recherch\u00e9_ haunts of fashionable idlers, and a field for the\ndisplay of the loveliest toilets), this young victim of _ennui_ hardly\nvouchsafed to seem interested; yet beneath all this was a soul worthy\nof great things; a will that, guided aright, might achieve much good to\nsociety or even to the country; and a personality eminently fitted for\nmoral and intellectual success. And this energy was being thus wasted\nby day, while, according to his own confession, billiards occupied the\ngreater part of his nights! Poor England, indeed, when her manliness is\nthus thrown away! Who would not look back with pride and regret to the\ndays of the \u201cgood old English gentleman,\u201d with his boisterous and rough\npursuits, his fox-hunting and his farming, but, withal, his healthful\nvitality and his active usefulness?\n\nBesides the young German, so pleasant a contrast to the _blas\u00e9_ youth\nof London drawing-rooms, there was round the gypsy kettle in the woods\nof E\u2014\u2014 a Spaniard as good-natured as he was stately; and, strange to\nsay, here was another royal likeness! Many might have mistaken him for\nthe Prince of Wales. Other Spaniards, too, there were, more lively and\nnot less good-natured, one with a smile that was irresistibly comic,\nthe other with the profile of a S. Ignatius, and principles and habits\nthat well suited his appearance. The English girls of the party were\nwell matched with their companions, and looked very picturesque as they\ntoasted immense slices of bread at the end of forked sticks at least\na yard and a half long! The tawny golden hair of one, the willow-like\nfigure and gravely childish glee of another, the restless activity\nof a third, as they all joined in the search for dry fire-wood, made\na pretty subject for an artist; and, in the midst of the bustle, the\nfather, enjoying the young people\u2019s fun, gave a touch of pathos that\nmuch enhanced the beauty of the rustic scene.\n\nA drive home through the tall bracken, and along the grassy roads of\nthe numerous plantations, perhaps a rapid visit to deserted \u201cFort\nHenry,\u201d and a row to the Echo, sufficed to fill up the evening, and a\nproject for paying a visit to an old Quaker tenant on the morrow would\nperhaps be discussed during dinner.\n\nIt is no wonder that foreigners grow enthusiastic over this side of\nEnglish life; the pity is that so many rush to England and leave it\nagain before they have a chance of seeing a family gathering in the\ncountry; those who have not seen it know little more of English society\nthan we do of the fruits of the West Indies after we have tasted them\nin the shape of candied peel and preserved jellies. Drawing-room life\nis the same in Paris, St. Petersburg, or New York; individualism\nthrives only in the country, and it is there the character of a nation\nshould be studied.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\nEUGENIE.\n\nA WEEK after, Louis came to see us for the first time.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d inquired Victor, \u201cdo you like your new manner of life?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes and no, my dear friend,\u201d replied Louis. \u201cYes, because I feel that\nthe new life on which I have entered is good for me. It is just what I\nneeded, I must confess\u2014for I think aloud here. It is such a relief to\nspeak to some one who understands, who loves you, and is always ready\nto excuse and pardon you! But I forewarn you I need, and shall need,\ngreat indulgence, though nothing ought to seem too hard to one who was\non the high-road to destruction, soul and body, and would at this very\ninstant be lost, had not God, in his mercy, sent you to my aid. This\nbenefit has filled me, I assure you, with so much gratitude from the\nfirst that, in view of my past life and the divine goodness, I feel I\nought to be a saint in order to expiate so many transgressions\u2014I ought\nto prove my sincerity by some heroic sacrifice for God.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! oh! that is somewhat ambitious.\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose it is absurd. Not that it is necessarily absurd to aspire to\nheroism, but the means should be taken into consideration. Now, mine\nare fearfully, pitifully inadequate. I am cowardly, fickle, and a lover\nof my ease.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come! do not calumniate yourself. We must neither judge\nourselves with too much leniency nor with too much severity. We must\nsee ourselves as we are. This is difficult, but it is essential.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, my kind friend, that is exactly the way I regard myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI doubt it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall judge for yourself. My duties oblige me to remain night and\nday at St. M\u2014\u2014. Alas! this very necessity I find harder than I can\nexpress. There is not a day in which I do not find myself regretting\nthe city three or four times. This is very wrong, when the city has\nbeen so pernicious to me....\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, you exaggerate things. You were born and brought up in the city,\nand have always lived here till now. I see nothing astonishing at your\nfinding it disagreeable at first to live in the country.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a lenient judge! We shall see if you are as much so after the\nother acknowledgments I have to make. There are times when work seems\ninsupportable. To rise at six o\u2019clock and superintend workmen and\nmachinery the live-long day irritates and fatigues me to such a degree\nthat I am sometimes tempted to give it all up.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have not yet yielded to the temptation?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, indeed; that would be too despicable.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you yourself regard such a step as it deserves, pursue your\noccupation without being concerned about a slight disinclination for\nwork. Even people who have always been accustomed to labor have such\ntemptations. I assure you, in a year there will be no question of all\nthis. You will have acquired a love for your business, and, active as\nyou are, you will not be able to do without it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think me at the end of my confession. The worst is to come. Mr.\nSmithson is polite and sincere, but reserved and ceremonious, like all\nEnglishmen. He keeps me at a distance, and appears as if my errors\nand loss of property, which of course he is aware of, gave him some\nsuperiority over me. I think he does wrong to make me feel this.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! this is more serious, my dear friend. Like all people in a wrong\nposition, you are inclined to be unduly sensitive. Watch over yourself.\nEndeavor to be guided by reason. I do not wish you to submit to too\nmuch haughtiness, but do not attribute to people airs, and especially\nintentions, they are not guilty of.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a thousand times right. I appreciate your advice, and promise\nto follow it. It would, indeed, be foolish to make myself needlessly\nunhappy. St. M\u2014\u2014, as you know, is a lovely place. The river on which\nthe mill stands has many charming views. During my leisure hours, I can\ndraw and paint at my ease. I have a great deal to do, and my work is\nfrequently burdensome, but I shall become accustomed to it, for it is\na source of real interest. By an excess of good luck, I have lodgings\nthat suit me in apartments near Mr. Smithson\u2019s house. There I can read,\nmeditate, and pray at my leisure. One thing only is wanting\u2014a little\nsociety in the evening; but that will come, perhaps. I am invited\nto dine at Mr. Smithson\u2019s next Thursday. I hope that will be the\ncommencement of closer intercourse with the family. Hitherto, I repeat,\nthey have kept me at a distance. I have exchanged a few words with\nMme. Smithson, who appears very affable, but I have only had a glimpse\nof the daughter\u2014Eug\u00e9nie, I believe her name is. As far as I could\njudge, she is tall, fine-looking, even dignified in her appearance,\nwith something haughty in her air. I frankly confess it will be a treat\nto meet these three people. I have always had a fancy for studying\ndifferent characters, and shall enjoy it particularly now, I am so\nunoccupied in the evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd your workmen\u2014what do you make of them?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am constantly observing them, and assure you they are as interesting\nto study as any one else. What a source of reflection! We have, you\nmust know, workmen of every grade, good and bad\u2014yes, fearfully bad.\nThere are four hundred and fifty people\u2014men, women, and children\u2014who\nrepresent every phase of humanity.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo study mankind, my dear friend, to confine one\u2019s self to that, is an\namusement suitable for a philosopher. But a Christian has higher views:\nhe studies human nature in order to be useful.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat idea has occurred to me. I have even formed a series of fine\nprojects; but I am so poor a Christian, and so inexperienced!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo false modesty! Excuse my bluntness; but false modesty is the shield\nof the indolent, or their couch, whichever you please. Have you any\ndesire to benefit the people among whom you live?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, certainly, if I can.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can. You only need zeal and prudence; the one ought always to\nguide the other. Come, what plans have occurred to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to found an evening-school, and take charge of it. Those\nwho are the best instructed might serve as monitors.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerfect! That would be a means of keeping the young men, and even\nthose of riper years, from idleness and the wine-shops, and afford you\nan opportunity of giving them good advice. What else?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should also like to establish a fund of mutual aid.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcellent!... Reflect on these two projects till Sunday. I will do\nthe same. Consult Mr. Smithson also about them, and come and dine with\nus in a week. We will talk it over, and you can tell me how you like\nthe family you are about to become acquainted with. I hope you will be\npleased with them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope so too, but have my fears. If they were all like Mme.\nSmithson, everything would be propitious. I took a fancy to her from\nthe first. But Mr. Smithson is frigid, and his daughter seems equally\nunapproachable. It is singular, but I had met her once or twice before\nI entered her father\u2019s employ. I thought her beautiful and intelligent,\nand heard her very highly spoken of. But really, I begin to believe\nthat she, like many others, is brilliant rather than solid.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, come! no rash judgments!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can I say? I was deceived in her. I thought her an uncommon\nwoman\u2014one capable of comprehending all the delicacy of my position,\nand of coming to my assistance. She ought to realize that I am out of\nmy element there. You must confess that Mlle. Smithson\u2019s coolness does\nnot tend to console me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, my dear friend, you are very exacting!... Would you expect as\nmuch from every one?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; but this young lady occupies an important place in the house,\nwithout trying, I confess, to take advantage of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd an important place in your thoughts ...,\u201d said Victor, with the\nfriendly, significant smile so natural to him.\n\nLouis blushed.\n\n\u201cI am inclined to think your opinion of her will be less severe in a\nweek. I, too, have heard her highly spoken of.\u201d\n\nThese words seemed to afford Louis great satisfaction. Victor did not\ncontinue the subject.\n\nIf you have carefully followed the conversation I have just related,\nyou must see that Louis, though unaware of his sister\u2019s hopes, already\nthought more of Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie than he confessed or even acknowledged\nto himself. I think I shall only anticipate your wishes in making you\nacquainted at once with that young lady, who is to fill an important\n_r\u00f4le_ in my story. And this cannot be done better than in her own home.\n\nEug\u00e9nie is in her chamber. It is the morning of the day Louis and some\nother acquaintances are to dine with her father. She is engaged in\ncompleting her toilet. A more charming room cannot be imagined. It is\nfurnished in exquisite style. Nothing is lacking. The pictures are all\nrare, and arranged with artistic taste. The book-case contains, not\nso many books, but solid works that will bear reading over and over\nagain. What, above all, completes the charm of this young girl\u2019s bower\nis the view to be seen from the two windows, which are like frames to a\npicture. They afford a glimpse of a terrestrial paradise through which\nflow the limpid waters of a deep stream. A breeze, playing through the\npoplars that stand on its banks, softly rustles the leaves. Directly\nacross, on the opposite shore, is a broad meadow, bright with flowers,\nwith here and there clumps of trees. As far as the eye can reach are\nobjects on every side to satisfy the soul, and excite it to reverie:\na windmill with its long wings of white canvas swaying in the air; a\nvilla with its gardens; a little hamlet, and, overlooking it, a church,\nthe slated belfry of which is glistening in the sun.\n\nThe world is full of material souls whom it would be a kind of\nprofanation to introduce into a place so attractive. They would be\nunable to appreciate the charm. What is nature, however beautiful, to\na man eaten up with avarice and ambition?\u2014to a woman who only dreams\nof pleasure?... To such degenerate souls, nature is a sealed book\u2014a\ndivine picture before a sightless eye.\n\nBut to this number Eug\u00e9nie did not belong. The daughter of a Catholic\nmother and a Protestant father, she had been educated in one of the\nbest schools in Paris. Shall I call her pious? No; that would be\nexaggerating. Eug\u00e9nie did not lack faith. Her religious instincts were\nwell developed, but checked by her father\u2019s coldness and her mother\u2019s\nfrivolity. She was by no means insensible to all the beautiful and true\nin religion. They filled her with admiration. She always fulfilled\nthe obligations rigorously imposed by the church, but avoided going\nany farther through indifference as well as calculation. She had a\nhorror of what she called petty religion and little practices of piety.\nPoor girl! she, too, closed her eyes in this respect to the light.\nThe practices she disdained\u2014frequent prayers, the raising of the\nsoul to God, visits to the church, and assiduous frequentation of the\nsacraments\u2014are they not what truly constitute religion, such as it\nought to be, in order to be the companion, friend, and guide of the\nwhole life?... This is what Eug\u00e9nie did not comprehend, or rather, what\nshe did not wish to comprehend. In short, she was religious in her own\nway\u2014half-way religious\u2014quite so in theory, but in reality much less\nso than she should have been.\n\nThe somewhat indirect influence her parents exercised over her in\na religious point of view also affected her in other ways. Eug\u00e9nie\npossessed two natures: she was cold like her father, and kind like\nher mother, but without displaying it. Let us also add another\ncharacteristic by way of completing her portrait\u2014she was romantic.\nIn everything, she had a repugnance to what she called commonplace.\nAn object, an individual, or an action, to please her, must have a\npeculiar stamp, an original turn, which she wished might be more\nfrequently met with. She only liked what was out of the common course,\naccording to the elevated standard of a certain ideal she had formed in\nher own mind.\n\nEug\u00e9nie\u2019s exterior, her distinguished manners, her fluency in\nconversation, and the tone of her calm, well-modulated voice, all\ninspired a respect bordering on admiration. She was beautiful without\nbeing bewitching. She was kind, but in so inexpressive a way as to\ninspire at first fear rather than confidence. As has been said, she\npossessed a character not easily read, and, though only twenty-one\nyears old, she passed for what is called, and with reason, a person of\nability. Her father and mother doted on her: she was their only child.\nYet there was a difference in their affection. Mr. Smithson tenderly\nloved her as a daughter: Mme. Smithson loved her with a shade of fear,\nas we love a companion or friend whose superiority we feel.\n\nHer toilet otherwise completed, Eug\u00e9nie rang for her waiting-maid\nto arrange her hair. Fanny did not keep her waiting. There was a\nstriking contrast between mistress and maid. Fanny was towards forty\nyears of age. She was of ordinary height, neat in person, but plain\nand unattractive in appearance. She had a bad complexion, large eyes\nhidden under thick lashes, a wide mouth, and a large fleshy nose, which\nmade up one of those vulgar faces that are never observed except to\nlaugh at. She was beloved by no one except her employers. This was not\nstrange. She had an observing eye and a keen, sarcastic tongue. Her\nnature was soured, rather than instinctively bad. She was selfish and\nbitter\u2014a good deal so. This selfishness and bitterness sprang from\ntwo causes which she would by no means have acknowledged. She was no\nlonger young, she knew she was homely, and she had no hope of being\nmarried. Such a hope she had once, and a few days of happiness was the\nresult. Fanny would have been so glad to be, in her turn, mistress over\nher own house! But her dream had vanished, and under circumstances not\ncalculated to sweeten her temper.\n\nFor some years, Fanny was a servant at Mme. Smithson\u2019s sister\u2019s. That\nlady was in the commercial line at Paris. There Fanny made the conquest\nof a smart young man from the country employed by her mistress as\nhead clerk. He was an excellent person, but, like many others, wished\nto reconcile his affections with his interests. He said to himself\nthat, by waiting awhile, he might, some fine day, find a wife richer,\nprettier, and younger than Fanny. As he was bound to her by no actual\npromise, he finally obtained another situation, and disappeared without\nany warning. The poor girl regarded such conduct as infamous. She felt\nthat all hope of ever marrying was now lost, and the disappointment\nmade her ill. Unbeknown to her, her mistress had followed all the\nscenes of this little domestic drama. She nursed Fanny with a care\nthat was quite motherly. When the girl recovered, she expressed her\ngratitude, but begged permission to go away. The house had too many\ncruel associations. Her mistress willingly consented, and Fanny entered\nMme. Smithson\u2019s service. When the latter left Paris, Fanny accompanied\nher to St. M\u2014\u2014, and had now been in the family several years.\n\nHaving, to her great regret, no prospect of marrying, forced to\nacknowledge to herself that she should never have a house of her own\nto manage, Fanny had but one desire, but this was an ardent one\u2014to be\ninstalled in a family which, if not her own, might prove as pleasant,\nand where she could rule while appearing to obey. But where find this\nideal home?... She resolved to create it. And in this way: her old\nmistress, Mme. Smithson\u2019s sister, had a son named Albert, who was five\nyears older than Eug\u00e9nie. Fanny had known him from his childhood. She\nwas attached to him, and, above all, she understood his disposition.\nNo one knew better than she that Albert would be the easiest, the most\nmanageable, in short, the mildest of masters. On the other hand, she\nknew that Eug\u00e9nie, energetic as she was, would not be difficult to\nplease. \u201cMademoiselle lives in the clouds,\u201d she said to herself; \u201cshe\nwill be glad enough to have some one manage the house for her.\u201d\n\nFanny, therefore, resolved to make a match between the two cousins.\nThere is reason to believe she made skilful overtures to her former\nmistress and to the young man himself, and that these overtures were\nwell received. Albert was now preparing his thesis with a view to the\nlaw. As he was not rich, his cousin\u2019s fortune was a very pleasant\nprospect, and still more so to his mother. Besides, Albert had always\nknown Eug\u00e9nie and loved her, as is natural to love a cousin that is\npretty and intelligent. He and his mother, therefore, made Fanny their\nintermediary, without committing themselves to too great an extent.\n\nBut Fanny had a good deal to overcome. Mr. Smithson was not partial\nto lawyers. The profession was not, in his estimation, clearly\nenough defined or very elevated. As to Eug\u00e9nie, no one knew what her\nsentiments were with regard to her cousin. Fanny thought she had, if\nnot a very strong attachment to him, at least an incipient affection.\nBut she was not sure. Thence resulted continual fears. Every young\nman who entered the house was to her an object of alarm. Perhaps her\nprospects, so slowly ripening and so dear, would be again overthrown by\nthis one!\n\nIt may be imagined that Fanny looked with an unfavorable eye on Louis\u2019\nconnection with the manufactory. If Mr. Smithson had chosen another\nkind of a man to aid him, one who was obscure, a mere common man of\nbusiness, she would not have minded it. But in the course of a week,\nshe was fully informed as to the history of the new-comer. She knew\nhe belonged to one of the best families of the city; that he had been\nrich, and might become so again; that, till recently, he had been\nregarded as one of the most brilliant young men in society; and he\nwas intelligent, well-educated, and of irreproachable morals. \u201cI am\nlost!\u201d thought she. \u201cAll these people are linked together to ruin my\nplans. This M. Louis comes here as an engineer?... Nonsense! it is\nan arrangement between his father and Mr. Smithson. They wish him to\nmarry mademoiselle. What a contrivance! And that poor Albert, what will\nbecome of him?...\u201d\n\nThese suspicions quite upset her. She resolved to make inquiries, in\norder to relieve her mind, if by chance she was mistaken. But whom\nshould she question?... Mr. Smithson?... That must not be thought of.\nEug\u00e9nie? Fanny made the attempt. Eug\u00e9nie, with her usual coolness\nand wit, replied in such a way that Fanny retreated every time more\nuncertain than before.\n\nThe day of which I am speaking\u2014the notable day of the dinner\u2014Fanny,\nout of patience, could endure it no longer. She resolved to carry\nmatters so far that, whether she liked it or not, her mistress would\nbe forced to revive her hopes, or utterly destroy them. Hardly had she\nentered the chamber before she opened fire:\n\n\u201cHow shall I arrange mademoiselle\u2019s hair?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs usual.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen we will dress it differently this afternoon with ribbons and\nflowers.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy such a display?\u201d\n\n\u201cCan mademoiselle have forgotten it is the day of the great dinner?\u201d\n\n\u201cGreat dinner? What do you mean by such nonsense, Fanny? Why, whom are\nwe to have at our table of so much importance? Nobody is invited that I\nhave not known a long time: our neighbor, M. Daumier, with his wife and\ndaughter, Dr. Ollivier, and M. Dupaigne. Really, it would be singular\nfor me to receive them with any ceremony.\u201d\n\n\u201cMademoiselle has not named all the guests.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhom have I forgotten?\u201d\n\n\u201cM. Louis Beauvais.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! that is true. I overlooked him. But his coming will not change my\nintention to remain as I am.\u201d\n\nThese words were uttered in a tone of perfect indifference. Fanny was\noverjoyed, but careful not to manifest it. Then, as she continued to\nbusy herself about her mistress, she began to reflect. \u201cShe does not\ncare for him,\u201d she said to herself. \u201cThere is nothing to fear for the\nmoment, then. But who knows how it may be by-and-by?... I must at once\nfind out if, under favorable circumstances, she might not conceive an\naffection for him, and try to prevent such a misfortune. I will take\nthe other side to find out the truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cA charming young man, this M. Louis, and quite worthy of interest,\u201d\nsaid she, without appearing to attach any importance to her words.\n\n\u201cWhat do you find so charming in him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has a serious air, which I like.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; it might even be called gloomy.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe may well have.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! Ah! Fanny, then you know his history?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mademoiselle; and a very curious one it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, relate it to me. Only suppress the details; you always give too\nmany.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree months ago, M. Louis was the finest dancer and the gayest\nyoung man in the city. Unfortunately, these young men are not always\nremarkable for uniformity. He lived like a prince for six years, and\none fine morning found himself penniless.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what did he do then?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey say\u2014I am unwilling to believe it, but everybody says so\u2014that he\ntried to drown himself.\u201d\n\n\u201cA weak brain. That is not to his credit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey also say that M. Barnier, the journalist, saved him at the risk\nof his life, and converted him so thoroughly that the poor fellow came\nnear entering a monastery.\u201d\n\n\u201cA queer idea! That shows he has more imagination than reason!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut he did not stick to his first intention. He is now established\nhere, and will remain, I feel sure, ... and this alarms me!...\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy are you so sure? And how can this assurance cause you any alarm?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is a secret. Mademoiselle will excuse me from replying. Though I\nhave known mademoiselle from her childhood, she intimidates me.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot much, Fanny.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, mademoiselle, I do not understand you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou understand me perfectly, but I have to dot your i\u2019s for you. Well,\nI will do so. I do not intimidate you much, I say. You dare not tell me\nwhat you mean, but you give me a hint of it. What are you afraid of?\nTell me. I insist upon it.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs mademoiselle insists upon it, I feel obliged to tell her what she\nwishes to know. Mademoiselle is not to be resisted. But I should prefer\nkeeping it to myself. If it were to displease mademoiselle ...\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; go on.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, mademoiselle, I have everything to fear! This young man\nhas lost his property.... He passes himself off here as a creditable\nperson.... He has secret designs ...\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat designs?\u201d\n\n\u201cMademoiselle puts me in an awkward position.... It is such a delicate\npoint to speak to mademoiselle about.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat M. Beauvais aspires to my hand through interested motives?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should not have dared say so.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that would be audacious! I accept a man for a husband whom\npoverty, disgraceful poverty, alone inclines towards me!\u201d\n\n\u201cWithout doubt, he has committed many faults, but there is mercy for\nthe greatest sinner, and he is so pious just now!\u201d\n\n\u201cI know\u2014he goes to church often, even during the week. That is his own\naffair. That is enough, Fanny. Let there be no further question of this\nbetween us. You take too much interest in what concerns me, as I have\ntold you before. I am astonished you should force me to repeat it.\u201d\n\nFanny, thus dismissed, went away furious and more uneasy than ever. But\nif she could have read Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s inmost thoughts, her fury would have\nturned to joy. As soon as she was gone, Eug\u00e9nie seated herself in a\nlow arm-chair, and began, as she sometimes laughingly said, to put her\nthoughts in order.\n\n\u201cThat malicious girl is no fool,\u201d she said to herself. \u201cThis young\nman may have entered my father\u2019s service from secret motives, perhaps\nsuggested by his family. Who knows but my parents themselves smile\non his projects? My father seems to be on the best of terms with his\nfather. Perhaps they have come to an understanding with a mere word,\nor even without speaking at all. That would be too much! Well, if it\nis so, if the whole world conspires against me, I will defeat their\ncalculations.... In the first place, I do not fancy this M. Louis, and\nI will soon let him see it, as well as those who favor him. The mere\nsupposition that I could ever be his wife makes me indignant and angry.\nI marry a man who has ruined himself, who only aimed at my fortune, and\nwould squander it in a few years! I give my heart to a man who does\nnot love me, and, even if he sincerely vowed he loved me, would be in\nsuch a position that I should always have reason to doubt it! And,\nbesides, what a weak mind this hare-brained fellow must have to play\nso many _r\u00f4les_ one after the other! I wish my husband to have purer\nmotives and a stronger head. This man must have a false heart. He is an\nintriguer, and that includes everything....\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\nMORE ABOUT EUGENIE\u2014A REAL FRIEND.\n\nTHAT evening, Louis found himself for the first time in the midst of\nthe Smithson family. We often thought of him that night, and wished we\ncould know at once what kind of a reception he had met with, especially\nfrom Eug\u00e9nie. But we were obliged to wait for these interesting details\ntill Louis could relate them himself. We did not have to wait long.\nWhen he came, he was gloomy and dispirited. Victor pretended not to\nobserve his dejection.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said he, \u201cyou have now made the acquaintance of the Smithsons.\nWhat do you think of them?\u201d\n\n\u201cA good many things, but I can sum up my impressions in a word: they\nare queer people!\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed! did they hurt your feelings in any way?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; ... yet I do wrong to be angry, or even to be astonished. I\nshould have expected it.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis great dinner, then, did not turn out as I hoped\u2014a means of\ncementing amicable, if not affectionate, relations between you?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou greatly astonish me!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is just so.... The way things were managed shows the Smithsons to\nbe sagacious people. They invited me, in order to make me understand\nat once the position I hold in their estimation\u2014that of engineer and\nsuperintendent, nothing more.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am really amazed!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am equally so. I did not expect it, but the fact is too evident.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, tell me all that happened, without omitting anything.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to omit anything would make the story long, and it is not worth\nthe trouble. I will briefly relate what I think will interest you,\nthat you may have an idea of this first visit. There were but four\nother guests, whom I only regarded with indifference. They were neither\npleasing nor displeasing, so it is useless to speak of them. We will\nconfine ourselves to the leading members of the household. I will first\nspeak of the real though unacknowledged head. My mind is made up on\nthis point. As I saw from the first, it is Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie who rules the\nhouse.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven her father?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; even her father; not as openly and directly as she does her\nmother, but as unmistakably by dint of management.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs she really a superior woman, as I have been told, or is she merely\nshrewd and imperious?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no. Those who have sounded her praises have not deceived you.\nShe is by no means a common person. In the first place, it must\nbe confessed she is really handsome. There is especially a rare\nintelligence and dignity in her appearance. She converses well, often\nsays something profound, and is always interesting. She is a lover of\nthe arts, and all she says, all she does, evinces an elevated mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cSuch a person as is seldom met with, then\u2014a model of perfection?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has all that is necessary to become so, ... and yet she is not.\nOne fault spoils everything, one or two at the most, but they are\nserious. She is proud or egotistical, perhaps both.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you not too severe upon her? You scarcely know her, and yet you\nare very decided in your condemnation.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have reasons for my opinion. You shall judge for yourself. My\nposition with respect to Mr. Smithson is very trying. He knows, and\ndoubtless the rest of the family too, all the follies I have committed\nwithin a few years, and how I regret them. He cannot be ignorant, nor\nthey either, that the office I hold under him, however respectable,\nmust awaken a susceptibility that is natural and excusable, even if\nexaggerated. In this state of things, I had a right to expect that Mr.\nSmithson and his family, if they were really people of any soul or\nbreeding, would treat me with a delicacy that, without compromising\nthem, would put me at my ease.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am of your opinion. And have they been wanting therein?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; and in a very disagreeable way. It is little things that betray\nshades of feeling, and it was thereby I was hurt. In leaving the\n_salon_ for the dining-room, each guest offered his arm to a lady. Mr.\nSmithson, his daughter, and myself were the last. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie took\nher father\u2019s arm with an eagerness that was really uncivil.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was from timidity, perhaps.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe timid?... I must undeceive you! She certainly is not bold, but she\nis far from being timid. At table, I found myself consigned to the\nlowest place. None of the guests were great talkers, and more than once\nI took part in the conversation. Mlle. Smithson undisguisedly pretended\nnot to listen to me. She even interrupted me by speaking of something\nquite foreign to what I was saying.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer education has been defective.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, she is perfectly well-bred. To see her an hour would\nconvince you of this. When she is deficient in politeness, it is\nbecause she wishes to be.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you, but cannot comprehend it all.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not told you everything. The worst is to come. Towards the\nend of dinner, the conversation fell on a certain cousin of Mlle.\nEug\u00e9nie\u2019s. His name, I think, is Albert. She praised him highly,\nto which I have nothing to say; but she added\u2014and this was very\nunreasonable or very malicious\u2014that this dear cousin did not imitate\nthe young men of fashion, who were extravagant in their expenditures,\nacquired nothing, and ended by falling into pitiful embarrassment. I\nwas, I confess, provoked and angry. I felt strongly tempted to make\nMlle. Smithson feel the rudeness and unkindness of her remark. But I\nbethought myself that I was a Christian, and that, after all, the most\ngenuine proof of repentance is humility. Therefore I restrained my\nfeelings, and remained silent. The rest of the evening I cut a sorry\nfigure. Mlle. Smithson seemed perfectly unconcerned as to what I might\nthink.\u201d\n\n\u201cHer behavior is so inexplicable,\u201d said Victor, \u201cthat, if I had these\ndetails from any one else, I should refuse to believe them.\u201d\n\n(At this part of her story, Mme. Agnes made a remark it may be well to\nrepeat to the reader: \u201cYou must bear in mind,\u201d said she, \u201cthat neither\nVictor nor I then had any means of knowing what I related a few moments\nago as to Fanny\u2019s projects and Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s suspicions; and we were\ncompletely ignorant of her turn of mind and romantic notions.\u201d)\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d resumed Louis, \u201cher way of acting, at which you are astonished,\ndoes not amaze me. I can easily explain it. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie imagines\nthat I aspire to her hand, or rather, to her fortune. She is mistaken;\nI aspire to neither. I acknowledge she has a combination of qualities\ncalculated to please me, but her disdain excites my indignation. I\nmean, therefore, to put a speedy end to her injurious suspicions. Then\nI will leave the place. I have already begun to put my project into\nexecution.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not be precipitate, I beg of you. It is a delicate matter. What\nsteps have you taken?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone of any importance. This morning, the work-rooms being closed as\nusual on Sunday, I went, before Mass, to sketch a delightful view not a\nhundred steps from the manufactory. I was wholly absorbed in my work,\nwhen Mlle. Smithson approached. I will not deny I was moved at seeing\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are no longer indifferent to her?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I think I can vouch for the perfect indifference of my sentiments\nfor the moment. But would this coldness towards her always last\nif I did not watch over my heart?... She has so many captivating\nqualities! I have seen so few women to be compared to her! No, no; I\nwill not allow myself to be captivated unawares; that would be too\ngreat a misfortune for me.... I have resolved to raise myself in her\nestimation. I will clearly convince her she has calumniated me in her\nheart; that I am in no respect the man she thinks; and, when I have\ndone that, I shall leave. So, when she approached, I bowed to her with\nrespect and politeness.\n\n\u201c\u2018You are sketching, monsieur?\u2019 she said, bending down to look at my\nwork. \u2018It is charming.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It ought to be, mademoiselle. There could not be a landscape better\ncalculated to inspire an artist. But while I am admiring what is before\nme, I regret my unskilfulness in depicting it. It is my own fault. I\nhave so long neglected the art of drawing. I have acted like so many\nother young men, and lost some of the best years of my life.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe understood the allusion\u2014perhaps too direct\u2014to her sally of the\nother day. A slight blush rose to her face. \u2018One would not suspect\nit, monsieur,\u2019 she said. \u2018But as for that, even if you have lost your\nskill, it can easily be regained in the midst of the delightful views\nin this vicinity.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018It is true, mademoiselle! A lovelier region it would be difficult to\nfind. I wish some of these views for my sketch-book, as I may leave any\nday.\u2019\n\n\u201cI uttered these words in a cool, deliberate tone, and then resumed my\nwork. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie seemed to wish to continue the conversation, but,\nslightly abashed, had not the courage, I think, to make any advances. I\nbowed ceremoniously, and she went away. My opinion is, she stopped out\nof mere curiosity. She had shown how little she esteemed me, and was\nnot afraid of my attaching any importance to her speaking to me. Such a\ncourse favors my plans.\u201d\n\n\u201cWonderfully! But\u2014nothing headlong! Forbear leaving Mr. Smithson too\nprecipitately. You are now near your family. Time may show things to\nyou in a different light. And, above all, it seems to me great good can\nbe done there, and more easily than in most places. Tell me something\nof your workmen. Have you thought of the two projects we talked about\nthe other day? Have you spoken to Mr. Smithson about them?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; it seems to me they would not particularly please him. I really do\nnot know whether this Englishman has any heart or not. I am inclined to\nregard him as an egotist, merely employing men to increase his wealth,\nand not very solicitous about their welfare.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must undeceive you. I have reason to think Mr. Smithson a very\ndifferent person from what you suppose. We have not many Protestants\nhere, you know, but still there are a few. Among them are some who\nare really actuated by good motives. They assembled a few months\nago at the house of Mr. Carrand, the rich lawyer you are acquainted\nwith. They wished to establish a charitable society, in imitation of\nour Conferences of S. Vincent de Paul, but did not succeed in their\nplans. To effect such an enterprise, there must be the zeal and\ncharity that animate the Catholic Church. To her alone God grants\nthe sublime privilege of devoting herself with constancy and success\nto the physical and moral welfare of mankind. Though their project\nremained unfruitful, it revealed a generosity much to the credit of\nthe Protestants interested in it Mr. Smithson himself was one of the\nforemost on this occasion to manifest how earnestly he had at heart the\nwelfare of the poor; and this without any evidence of being influenced\nby selfish motives.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat you say surprises me, but it gives me great pleasure. I shall\nhenceforth be less reserved with him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you will do well. I even advise you to consult Mme. and Mlle.\nSmithson about your charitable plans. They are Catholics, and will\ncomprehend you at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no great confidence in their piety.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear friend, I regard you with the affection of a brother....\u201d\n\n\u201cSay, rather, of a father, as you are, in one sense, having saved my\nlife; and also by another title, in aiding me to become an earnest\nChristian, such as I once was.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, let us use a medium term. My regard for you shall be\nthat of an elder brother. I thank you for allowing me this title. My\naffection for you makes me take an interest in all that concerns you.\nI have obtained very exact information respecting the Smithson ladies\nfrom a reliable source. They are not as pious as they might be, but\nthey do not lack faith, and they fulfil the absolute requirements of\nthe church. I know that Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie is keenly alive to the poetical\nside of religion. You have, I believe, an important _r\u00f4le_ to fill\nin the family and in the whole establishment. You can do good to\nevery one there, and, at the same time, to yourself. The course to be\npursued seems to me very simple. I feel sure Mlle. Smithson has some\nmisconception concerning you\u2014some injurious suspicions. Endeavor\nto remove them from her mind. Act prudently, but as promptly as\npossible. That done, induce her to take an interest in the work you\nare going to undertake. She will lead her father to participate in it.\nIn a short time, you will see the good effect on your workmen, and\nderive from your charitable efforts the reward that never fails to\nfollow\u2014an ever-increasing love of doing good, and a livelier desire of\nsanctifying your own soul. The exercise of charity is of all things the\nmost salutary. I can safely predict that the Smithson ladies will both\nbecome pious if they second you; and as for you, you will be more and\nmore strengthened in your good resolutions. Who knows?\u2014perhaps you may\nhave the sweet surprise of seeing Mr. Smithson converted when he sees\nthat Catholicism alone enables us to confer on others a real benefit.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are fine projects, and very attractive; but I foresee many\nobstacles and dangers.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat ones?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf all kinds. First, I expose myself to conceive an affection for\nMlle. Smithson it would be prudent to guard against. She does not\nlike me. I imagine she loves some one else\u2014the cousin she praises so\nwillingly.\u201d\n\n\u201cA supposition without proof! What I have heard from others, as well as\nyourself, convinces me that Mlle. Smithson has not yet made her choice.\nThe praise she so publicly lavishes on her cousin is, in my opinion, a\nproof of her indifference towards him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if I were to love her\u2014love her seriously, and she continued to\ndisdain me; if her prejudice against me could not be overcome?...\u201d\n\n\u201cI should be the first to regret it. But listen to me. You were once\ntruly pious, my friend, and wish to become so again. This desire is\nsincere, I know. Well, it is time to take a correct view of life. For\nthe most of us, especially those who are called to effect some good in\nthe world, life is only one long sacrifice. Jesus Christ suffered and\ndied to redeem mankind; the way he chose for himself he also appointed\nfor those who become his disciples. It is by self-sacrifice that we\nacquire the inappreciable gift of being useful to our fellow-men. Do\nnot cherish any illusion with regard to this!\u201d\n\nLouis and I exchanged a sorrowful glance as Victor spoke. Poor dear\nfellow! how he realized what he was saying! He was about to die at\nthirty-six years of age, in the very height of his usefulness, and this\nbecause he likewise had voluntarily chosen the rough path of sacrifice\nthat was leading even unto death!\n\n\u201cMy friend,\u201d replied Louis, \u201cwhat you say is true. I feel it. You are\nyourself an eloquent proof of it\u2014you whom I have stopped in the midst\nof your career....\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not talk so,\u201d interrupted Victor; \u201cyou pain me. Your manner of\ninterpreting my words makes me regret uttering them. Do not mistake\nmy meaning. What I would say may be summed up thus: to effect a\nreformation in Mr. Smithson\u2019s manufactory, where there are many bad men\nwho corrupt the good; to enkindle a spirit of piety in the hearts of\nthe Smithson ladies, by associating them in the good you are to effect.\nWhatever may be the result, devote yourself to this work without any\nreserve. You must not hesitate! Your sufferings, if you have any to\nendure, will not be without fruit, and perhaps God may not suffer them\nto be of long duration.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have decided me. I will begin to-morrow. I will commence with the\nevening-school, and by visiting the most destitute families.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not forget that the destitution most to be pitied is moral\ndestitution. Visit those who have nothing, but especially those who are\ndepraved.\u201d\n\nLouis went away in a totally different frame of mind from that with\nwhich he had come. Victor, in his gentle way, had increased his esteem\nfor Mr. Smithson, and inflamed him with the zeal\u2014the ardent desire\nof usefulness with which he was filled himself. When he was gone,\nVictor and I talked a long time about him. I confessed I had no great\nfaith in his perseverance. Victor replied: \u201cHis mother\u2019s piety and\ncareful training must lead to his thorough conversion. And how he has\nalready changed! He realizes the worthlessness of the aims to which he\nonce gave himself up. There is no fear of his receding. He has taken\nthe surest means of persevering\u2014the apostolic work of doing good.\nNevertheless, I acknowledge I wish he could find some one to aid him.\nAnd what a powerful aid it would be if he loved and felt himself loved!\nArdent as he is, he would communicate his piety to the object of his\naffection. And how much good would result from their combined efforts!\nBut I fear it will not be thus! Our poor friend will, perhaps, purchase\nthe right of winning a few souls at the expense of his own happiness.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\nLOUIS AT WORK.\n\nLOUIS took two whole days to reflect on the important subject of his\nconversation with my husband. Was the profound love he subsequently\nfelt for Eug\u00e9nie already springing up in his heart? Such is my\nopinion, though I dare not say so positively. He probably was not\nconscious himself of the real state of his mind. Since that time, I\nhave often dwelt on all that took place then and afterwards, and it\nhas always seemed to me that, from the very moment Louis first knew\nand appreciated Mlle. Smithson, he conceived an affection for her\nas serious as it was sudden. This affection was one of those that\nseem destined, from the beginning, to a continual increase. Does this\nmean that I have adopted the foolish and erroneous theory of novel\nwriters, who regard love as an overmastering passion to which one\nis forced at all hazards to submit?... Neither religion nor reality\nwill allow one to yield to such an error. But they do not hinder me\nfrom believing there are inclinations and affections that all at once\nassert themselves with so much force that, if one would not be speedily\novercome by passion, he must at once raise an insurmountable barrier\nagainst it, such as flight, reason armed with contempt, and, what is a\nthousand times better than all\u2014prayer. Such, in my opinion, was the\nlove Louis at once conceived for Mlle. Smithson.\n\nHow shall I account for his being so captivated, when Eug\u00e9nie had\nwounded him so deeply, and was so proud and every way original? For he\ntoo was proud, and his pride was allied with an unvarying simplicity\nwhich by no means accorded with Mlle. Smithson\u2019s turn of mind.... I\naccount for this in many ways. Eug\u00e9nie had very distinguished manners.\nThis naturally pleased Louis, for he had been brought up by a mother\nwho was a model of distinction. Eug\u00e9nie had a noble soul. Her opinions\nwere not always correct, but they were always of an elevated nature.\nShe was, it is true, peculiar and romantic, and Louis was not. But he\nliked all these peculiarities in her. They seemed to him charming.\nLastly, and this is one of my strongest reasons, I think it was because\nLouis felt himself worthy of being Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s husband, and, seeing\nhimself slighted by her, was the more strongly tempted to win her.\n\nAs Victor and I were his confidential friends, he kept us informed of\nall his proceedings, and, I may safely say, even of his thoughts. It is\ntherefore easy for me to retrace the story of his love, which I will do\nwithout any exaggeration.\n\nBut first, let us return to his charitable projects, and the way\nin which he executed them. Louis was not merely an engineer in Mr.\nSmithson\u2019s establishment, but a Christian, and all the more zealous\nbecause he was anxious to expiate his past errors. He knew by\nexperience to what an abyss the passions lead, and was desirous of\nwarning others. If he had been a man of ordinary mind and heart, he\nwould no doubt have been animated by entirely different motives. After\nhis ruin, and rescue from a watery grave, desirous of regaining not\nonly his father\u2019s esteem, but that of the world, he might have chosen\nthe very position he now occupied, but he would have taken care to live\nas easily as possible. He would perhaps have sought to win Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s\naffections, and in the end would have thought only of her and labored\nfor her alone. Such a life would not be worth relating. The lives of\nordinary men are as unworthy of interest as the egotism that is the\nmainspring of their actions.\n\nLouis\u2019 life was a very different one. That is why I am desirous of\nmaking it known. But do not suppose his nature was thus transformed\nin an instant. God did not work one of those miracles that consist in\nthe complete, instantaneous change of a man\u2019s character. Our faults\nveil our better qualities, but do not suppress them; so a return to\npiety gives them new brilliancy, but does not create them. Louis, as\nI afterwards learned, had in his youth manifested uncommon elevation\nand purity of mind, and the piety of a saint. After his arrival at\nmanhood, deprived of his mother\u2019s influence, and led away by his\npassions, he placed no bounds to his follies. But suddenly arrested\nin the midst of his disorderly career, providentially saved at the\nvery moment of being for ever lost, he at once broke loose from his\npernicious habits. Like a traveller who returns to the right path\nafter going astray for awhile, he resumed his course in the way of\nperfection with as much ardor as if he had never left it. There was\nonly one reproach to be made against him at the onset. With his earnest\nnature and tendency to extremes, he manifested too openly the interior\noperations of grace. The difference between the young exquisite whom\neverybody knew, and the new convert observed of all eyes, was rather\ntoo marked. Louis\u2019 serious and somewhat stern air, his austere look,\nand his habitual reserve, repelled those who had no faith in his entire\nconversion. Thence arose backbitings, suspicions, and accusations of\nhypocrisy which did not come to our poor friend\u2019s ears, but were the\ncause of more than one annoyance. I must, however, acknowledge, to Mr.\nSmithson\u2019s credit, that he showed a great deal of charity for Louis at\nthat time. If he sometimes accused him of undue zeal, he was from the\nfirst disposed to believe it sincere.\n\nI will briefly relate what Louis accomplished during the few weeks\nsubsequent to his last conversation with Victor. My husband had advised\nhim not to undertake anything till he had consulted Mr. Smithson.\nLouis followed his advice, and begged an interview with his employer.\nIt was then in the month of June. The conversation took place without\nwitnesses, in the open air, on a fine summer evening. I give it as\nrelated by Louis.\n\n\u201cMonsieur,\u201d said he, \u201cI am aware of your interest in benevolent\nobjects. The workmen you employ, and whom I superintend under your\norders, are not in your eyes mere instruments for the increase of\nwealth, but men to whom you wish to be as useful as circumstances will\nallow.\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson was never lavish of his words. He made a sign of assent,\nand appeared pleased with what was said.\n\nLouis continued: \u201cI also am desirous of being useful to my fellow-men.\nI have done many foolish things, and would like to preserve others\nfrom similar mistakes, for the consequences are often fatal. With your\npermission, I will not content myself with aiding you in the management\nof the mill, but beg the honor of being associated, in proportion to my\nability, with all the good you are desirous of doing.\u201d\n\n\u201cMonsieur,\u201d said Mr. Smithson, \u201cyour unexpected offer somewhat\nembarrasses me. I am quite ready to accede to your wishes, but could\nnot, in truth, consider you my co-laborer. What I have hitherto done\nhas been but little, but I know not what else to do. I assist the\nneedy, and give good advice here and there; that is all. You can follow\nmy example. I shall be glad. Is that what you wish? Or do you happen to\nhave anything better and more extensive to propose? If so, go on. I am\nready to hear it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, monsieur; I have some other plans to suggest.\u201d\n\n\u201cState them without any hesitation. I only hope they are of a nature\nto second my views. The first condition for that is, to propose only\nwhat is simple and practical. Doubtless too great an effort cannot\nbe made at this time to aid and improve our workmen, both for their\nown interest and for ours. Everything is dear. The country is in a\nferment. Among those we employ, there are a number of turbulent fellows\nand many wretchedly poor.\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely so. What I wish is, to aid the needy, and reform the bad.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour design is worthy of all praise\u2014as a theory; ... but its\nrealization will be difficult, not to say impossible. Listen to me,\nmonsieur; I have a frank avowal to make. I have been engaged in this\nbusiness but a short time. I know the common people but little. I\nbelong to a country and a religion that have a special way of aiding\nthe indigent. The government takes charge of that with us. In France,\nit is different: private individuals take part in it. You find me\ntherefore greatly embarrassed. Enlighten me, if you can. I ask for\nnothing better.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, monsieur, it seems to me that beneficence should be exercised in\nthree different ways. First, it is our duty to come to the assistance\nof those in distress; ... only I cannot, in this respect, do all I\nwould like.... I could have done so once ... now ...\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not let that worry you. My purse is open to you on condition that\nyou only aid those whose destitution you can personally vouch for. It\nis also advisable to ascertain what use they make of that which is\ngiven them.\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise this, and thank you. No; it is not sufficient to give them\nmoney. One must see it is made a good use of. The poor should be taught\nto double their resources by economy. The assistance of the needy,\nthen, is the first benevolent effort I would propose. I now come to\nmoral beneficence. This does not refer to the indigence of the body,\nbut to that of the soul. I think it especially desirable to preserve\nfrom corruption those of our workmen who are at present leading upright\nlives, particularly the young. This does not hinder me from thinking it\nnecessary to bring those who have gone astray under good influences.\u201d\n\n\u201cFine projects! I, too, have made similar ones, as I said, but I was\ndiscouraged by the difficulty of executing them. What means do you\npropose to employ?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would you say to the formation of a library in one of the rooms\nof the manufactory\u2014for instance, that which overlooks the river? It\nis now unoccupied. The workmen might be allowed to go there and read\nin the evening, and even to smoke, if they like.... This library could\nbe used, during the hours of cessation from labor, as a schoolroom,\nwhere all could come to learn, in a social way, what they are\nignorant of.\u2014Would not this be a means of keeping them away from the\nwine-shops, and afford one an opportunity of conversing with them, and\ngiving them good advice\u2014advice which comes from the heart?\u201d\n\n\u201cI like the idea. It really seems to me you have conceived a happy\ncombination of plans; but nothing can be done without a person to put\nthem in execution.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will do it if you will allow me. I am eager to try the experiment.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour courage and enthusiasm will soon give out. At every step, you\nwill meet with difficulties impossible to be foreseen. I have mingled\nonly a little with the working classes, but enough to know they are\ndifficult to manage, and often ungrateful to those who try to be useful\nto them.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod will aid me. He will reward me, and they may too. But I shall not\nbe difficult to please. If some of them correspond to my efforts, it\nwill be enough. I will forget the ingratitude of the rest.\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson was amazed at his zeal. His own religion, cold and\nformal, had never taught him to take so much pains for those who might\nprove ungrateful. He and Louis separated quite pleased with each\nother. Louis felt he had been comprehended. He had also the promise\nof assistance. Mr. Smithson, with all his reserve, was captivated by\nLouis\u2019 enthusiasm for doing good. But though he had promised to aid\nLouis, he pitied him. \u201cHe will fail,\u201d he said to himself.\n\nThe work was begun a few days after, thanks to the co-operation of\nMr. Smithson, who smoothed away the difficulties inseparable from all\nbeginnings. At seven in the evening, Louis, laying aside the title and\nfunctions of an engineer, became the friend and teacher of the workmen.\nThey assembled in a large room where benches, tables, and a library\nwere arranged. At first a certain number of workmen came through mere\ncuriosity. They found what they did not expect\u2014a teacher who was\ncompetent, kind, ready to converse with them and teach them what they\nwished to learn, and this with a heartiness quite different from an\nordinary schoolmaster. Louis devoted himself with so much pleasure to\nthese evening exercises that his pupils soon learned to like them, and\ngave so captivating an account of them to the rest that the number of\nscholars increased from day to day. Thus the school was permanently\nestablished without much delay, and numbered about thirty men of all\nages and varieties of character. Louis showed perfect tact in profiting\nby so happy a commencement. Every evening, he gave oral instructions,\nsometimes on historical subjects, sometimes on a question of moral or\npolitical economy. In each of these lectures, the young master mingled\ngood advice, which was willingly listened to, given, as it was, in\nthe midst of instructions that excited the liveliest interest. The\nworkmen felt they were learning a thousand things they could never have\nacquired from books. A book is a voiceless teacher that requires too\nmuch application from unaccustomed pupils.\n\nMr. Smithson watched over the development of this work, and became more\nand more interested in it in proportion as its success, which at first\nhe had doubted, became more probable, and its utility more evident.\nAt the same time, without acknowledging it to himself, suspicion and\ndistrust began to spring up in his heart. Even the best of men under\ncertain circumstances, unless checked by profound piety, are accessible\nto the lowest sentiments. Mr. Smithson began to be jealous of his\nassistant, and even to fear him.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d he said to himself, \u201cshall he succeed in a work I dared\nnot undertake myself! He will acquire a moral influence in the\nestablishment superior to mine!...\u201d Then, as his unjust suspicions\nincreased: \u201cIt is not the love of doing good that influences him: it is\nambition,\u201d he thought.\n\nLouis had no suspicion of what was passing in his employer\u2019s mind,\nand therefore resolutely continued to pursue the course he had begun.\nHe had formerly accompanied his mother in her visits among the poor,\nand thus learned how to benefit them. She had taught him it was not\nsufficient to give them money: it was necessary to mingle with them,\ntalk with them, give them good advice\u2014in a word, to treat them as\nbrethren and friends. Having organized his evening-school, he resolved\nto visit the most destitute and ignorant families in the village, which\nwas about a kilometre and a half from the manufactory. He went there\nevery evening towards six, and spent an hour in going from one house to\nanother. Chance, as an unbeliever would say, or Providence, to speak\nmore correctly, led him to the house of a poor woman quite worthy of\nhis interest. She was fifty years of age, and slowly wasting away from\ndisease of the lungs, complicated with an affection of the heart.\nThis woman was one of those lovely souls developed by the Catholic\nreligion oftener than is supposed. People little suspected how much she\nsuffered, or with how much patience she bore her sufferings, but God\nknew. She was a real martyr. Married to a drunken, brutal man of her\nown age, she had endured all the abuse and ill-treatment with which he\nloaded her without a murmur. She had brought up her son piously, and\nlabored as long as she was able to supply her own wants and those of\nher child. Broken down by illness and the continual ill-treatment of\nher husband, she would have died of want, had not Mlle. Smithson come\nto her aid.\n\nWhen Louis went to see this poor woman, whom we will call Fran\u00e7oise,\nshe spoke of Eug\u00e9nie so enthusiastically, and with so much emotion,\nthat he was greatly impressed. It was sweet to hear the praises of one\nwhom he dreamed, if not of marrying, at least of associating in his\ngood works.\n\nThe next day, he repeated his call on the sick woman, and for several\ndays in succession. I think he had a secret hope of meeting Eug\u00e9nie,\nwithout daring to acknowledge it to himself. As yet, he had merely seen\nher. He found her, as you know, handsome, stylish, and intelligent, but\ncool towards him. He longed to observe her in this miserable dwelling.\nHere, apart from other influences, she might show herself, as he hoped\nshe really was\u2014exempt from the imperfections he had remarked in her\nat home with regret. Without acknowledging it, he loved her, and it is\nhard to be forced to pass an unfavorable judgment on those we love. But\ndays passed without their meeting. The sick woman was visibly failing.\nOne evening, Louis found her weaker than ever.\n\n\u201cMy dear monsieur,\u201d said she, \u201cI am very happy. I am about to enter\nthe presence of the good God! But I have one cause for anxiety at the\nhour of death. I depend on you to remove it. When the wealthy die,\nthey leave their friends valuable legacies, but we poor people have\nonly burdens to bequeath. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie has promised to watch over my\nlittle boy. She is very kind!... And I have another favor to ask of\nyou, monsieur. Not far from the village is a family by the name of\nVinceneau. The father is employed in the tile works you have to pass in\ncoming to see me. Hereafter, when you come by, continue to think of me,\nand pray for me!... But that is not the point. The man I am speaking of\nis intemperate like my husband. The mother would be an excellent woman,\nwere it not for two faults. She is indolent and envious\u2014always ready\nto think evil of the rich. She works at your mill. It is not these two\npeople I am going to recommend to you, but their daughter. The poor\nchild is as handsome as a picture, and as pious as an angel. She often\ncomes to see me. I tremble lest she be lost through the bad example of\nher parents, or through dangerous society. I have a feeling that, in\nsome way, you will find means of being useful to her, if necessary.\nI should have recommended her to Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie, but her father and\nmother, as I have said, are good for nothing, and I should not like\nto send mademoiselle where I know she is detested on account of her\nwealth.\u201d\n\nLouis gladly acceded to her request. He left a few moments after to\nattend his evening-school. Half-way home, he perceived Eug\u00e9nie coming\nfrom the mill, and could not help meeting her.\n\nTO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POLITICAL PRINCIPLE OF THE SOCIAL RESTORATION OF FRANCE.\n\nBY F. RAMIERE, S.J.\n\nFROM LES ETUDES RELIGIEUSES.\n\n\nTHE great danger of France at the present time is neither the\ndecline of her military power, nor the diminution of her political\ninfluence, nor the deep wound inflicted on her finances by an enormous\nwar contribution, nor the aggrandizement of Prussia, nor even the\nunchaining of the Revolution: it is the division among right-thinking\nmen.\n\nSupposing that all men in or out of the Assembly, united by the\nindissoluble bond of principle, sincerely desired the re-establishment\nof order, the revolutionary monster would soon be rendered harmless.\nThe healthy influences now paralyzed would regain their action; with\nsecurity, legitimate interests would recover their power of expansion;\nthe vital strength of the country would develop rapidly; and, thanks\nto the vigorous elasticity which characterizes our race, we would soon\nresume the rank in Europe that belongs to us.\n\nLet us recollect the wonderful promptitude with which France, reduced\nto extremity by the religious wars, reached the apogee of her\nprosperity under Louis XIII. We would rise again with equal facility,\nif the good dispositions, not wanting in France, could be bound\ntogether, and oppose a compact fasces to the revolutionary passions,\nalas! too well united for destruction.\n\nUnfortunately, it is not so. Unity of thought and action, which is the\nsupreme necessity of every government, is wanting to-day in those who\nare alone able to save us, and it has become the exclusive privilege\nof the party that is working for our ruin. M. Le Play, who, in a\nrecent treatise, warns us of the danger of the situation, sees but one\nremedy: the abandonment for a time at least of political questions,\nand the concentration of the efforts of all true men for the study and\nsolution of the social question. Says M. Le Play: \u201cThe enlightened men\nwho compose the majority of our Assembly render themselves powerless\nby their division on what is called the political question\u2014that is\nto say, on the form of sovereignty. They may be assured that each\npolitical party, when it advances its principle, raises against it\na majority formed by the coalition of rival parties. When, on the\ncontrary, this same party takes up the social question, that is to\nsay, the immediate interest of the family, it gains the majority,\nsometimes even unanimity. It is sufficient to know the cause of the\nevil to find the remedy. The conservatives have the power to establish\na strong majority. It is only necessary to avoid the subject that\ndivides them, and to devote themselves to the one that draws them\ntogether.\u201d\n\nThere is much truth in this observation, and we are far from wishing to\ncombat it on the whole. The eminent publicist who, in this same work,\naccords so favorable an opinion to our studies on the rights of men,\nknows with what warm sympathy we follow his useful labors for social\nreform. We appreciate as fully as he the importance of the question to\nwhich he desires to draw the attention of all true friends of order.\nWith him we believe that the social order is anterior to the political,\nand that, at a time when society is disorganized even in its original\nelements, it is there above all that the remedy must be applied.\nHow can a good government be given to a nation that the anti-social\npropaganda has rendered ungovernable?\n\nWe must acknowledge, however, that, to the rule which M. Le Play\nhas laid down, objections arise which at the first glance appear\nsufficiently grave. We have heard intelligent men doubt whether even\nthe temporary withdrawal of the political questions would be opportune\nor possible, and that for several reasons.\n\nIn the first place, because these questions are irresistibly imposed\nupon us. They are discussed every day in the debates of the Assembly or\nby the press. If we give up treating them according to true principles,\nthey will certainly be determined in the sense of the Revolution.\n\nIn effect, and it is a second reason, if men of order deny themselves\nentrance on this ground, it is indispensable that the revolutionary\nparty should promise to abstain likewise. But how can we hope that it\nwill make, much less that it will observe, this engagement? The first\naim of this party is evidently to possess itself of political power, by\nmeans of which it will be easy to realize its anti-social theories. We\nmust put forth our whole strength in this contest, if we do not wish to\nhave it become impossible for us to defend the social interests.\n\nFinally, here is a consideration which, to the eyes of the men whose\nsentiments we express, appears still more decisive. They say that in\norder to make it possible to abstract political questions, and give\nourselves exclusively to the study of the social, there should be a\nline of demarcation drawn between these two domains so closely united.\nThis is what they cannot accomplish. Social and political rights repose\non the same basis, they have the same enemies, and are attacked with\nthe same arms. Why is the family disorganized? Why, in labor, is the\nharmony so necessary between the employer and the employed replaced by\nan antagonism equally hurtful to both? Is it not, above all, because\nevery rank of society suffers from the rebound of the attacks made\npolitically on the principle of authority?\n\nWe do not dispute the fatal influence of the false principles pointed\nout by M. Le Play\u2014the original perfection preached by Rousseau, the\nnative equality of men maintained by Alexis de Tocqueville, have\nhad their share, and their great share, in the disorders which have\ntotally overthrown society. But the principal cause of these disorders,\nthe revolutionary principle by excellence, is the negation of all\nauthority superior to that of man!\n\nHow shall we answer these arguments? It will not be difficult. We\ncan admit them without injury to the thesis of M. Le Play. We would\nmisapprehend him if we placed the Christian principle of authority\namong the number of political questions which he counsels us to avoid.\nThis principle, in reality, is not less social than political. It is\nthe common foundation of these two orders, the fourth commandment of\nthe decalogue, and, consequently, constitutes one of the essential\narticles of the social restoration, whose complete programme M. Le Play\nfinds in the decalogue.\n\nWhat are the political questions we should avoid, if we would see union\nand strength succeed to the divisions which now paralyze us? Those that\nspring from opinions.\n\nOpinions divide parties, and create among them interminable struggles.\nS. Augustine has well said: _In necessariis, unitas; in dubiis,\nlibertas._ Necessary principles are the domain of unity; doubtful\nopinions, by provoking liberty, engender division. It is in the very\nessence of opinion to arouse against it other opinions, to which their\nprobability, more or less great, gives the right to struggle against\nevery light but that of proof. Here is, then, what experience teaches\nus, and what the dangers of society command us: it is to lift ourselves\nabove this obscure and troubled region where opinions clash, and to\nrise to the peaceful sphere that principles illumine with a steady\nlight. Here there can be no subject of division among sincere minds.\nIn the social as in the political order, principles convince by their\nproofs all intellects which have not made a compact with error; and\ntheir necessity, as incontestable as their truth, conquers the adhesion\nof all just men.\n\nWe can, then, without contradicting M. Le Play, establish the following\nproposition: to obtain this union among right-thinking men, without\nwhich there is no salvation to be hoped for France, political parties\nmust be silent on the questions which divide them, and cling to\nthe immutable principle whose negation is the chief cause of our\nmisfortunes.\n\nBut what is this principle? This is the question we will endeavor to\nanswer with a precision which will leave no doubt in sincere minds; no\npretext for the division of parties.\n\nOur aim is very clear, and we hope it will be understood by our\nreaders. We do not intend to discuss the various political opinions,\nstill less to ask their defenders to sacrifice them; we seek the\nindisputable, the first principle of the political order, around which\ncan be immediately formed that union of honest and upright men which\nwill place them in a position to struggle against the Revolution, and\nwill prepare for the future a more complete harmony, and the permanent\nrestoration of France.\n\n\nI.\n\nWe must, above all, distinguish clearly \u201cthe saving principle\u201d from\nthe opinions with which it might be confounded. It will be easier to\nunderstand what it is when we will have said what it is not.\n\nIn the first place, this principle is not that of _absolute monarchy_.\n\nIn the happiest period of our history, the power of the monarch was\nmodified by institutions of various kinds: by the states-general,\nwhich, having the right to confirm or reject new taxes, afforded an\nopportunity of laying at the foot of the throne the complaints and\nthe wishes of the country; by the magistrates, who, almost sovereign\nin the judicial order, exercised an efficacious control over the\nlegislature; by the church above all, that energetically defended the\nsupremacy of divine law against the caprices of princes. Whatever may\nbe thought of the causes which, after the invasion of Protestantism,\nled to the destruction of these guarantees, and to the concentration\nof power; whatever may be said to excuse or glorify absolute monarchy\nin the past, it evidently cannot now be presented as the immutable\nprinciple through which we could ask our salvation.\n\nIt is not necessary to add that the inferior institutions which\nsurrounded the monarchy at divers epochs, merit still less the name\nof principles. Formerly these institutions had a reason for existing,\nbut nothing proves that they should survive the circumstances which\ngave them birth. Neither the warlike feudalism of the middle ages nor\nthe nobility disarmed, but still privileged, of later times, belongs\nto those elements essential to all society, to which we are bound to\nrestore their energy as soon as possible, if we would not condemn\nourselves to perish.\n\nNor can we give the name of principle to _divine right_ as understood\nby the Gallican school. According to this school, Providence, at\nthe commencement of society, chose a man or a family to exercise\nthe supreme power. The course of events which decided the form of\ngovernment of infant societies was, in its opinion, a manifestation of\nthe divine will sufficient to invest with the right of commanding those\nwho had the strength to enforce it. This right is then divine, since\nit is held immediately from God; and, in the language of theology, the\npower of divine right is that which comes from God without passing\nthrough any human intermediary. The Gallican school recognized two\nsovereignties of divine right: that of the temporal order, which was\nroyalty; and the papal sovereignty, which was spiritual\u2014if it was\nallowable to say in this system that the pope was sovereign, since,\ncontrary to the policy which sustained absolute political power,\nthey wished in the spiritual order that the pope should share his\nsovereignty with the episcopate.\n\nTo dissimulate nothing, let us say here that lately theologians\nand Catholic philosophers, strangers to the Gallican school, have\ndefended the thesis of divine right. But their adhesion, in giving new\nweight to this doctrine, does not take it from the category of simple\nopinions. It has always against it the arguments and authority of our\nmost illustrious doctors, according to whom the right of princes is\ndivine only in its first origin and in its abstract essence; but in\nits immediate origin, its concrete form, and in the appointment of the\nsubject to be invested with it, this right is human, since it would\nonly receive the determinations indispensable to its exercise by the\nexpressed or tacit consent of society. The providential events of which\nwe have before spoken were more or less indicative of the divine will,\nbut the majority of doctors refuse to see in them a sufficient motive\nfor investing with the right of commanding a man previously supposed to\nbe without it.\n\nThe doctrine of the _absolute inamissibility of power_ generally\nmaintained by the partisans of divine right should also be ranked among\nthe disputed opinions. It is logic that he who has received power\nimmediately from God can only be deprived of it by God. The defenders\nof the opposite opinion admit, on the contrary, that, in extreme\ncases, power can be withdrawn from him who abuses it by only using for\nthe destruction of society what was given to him for its preservation.\nAnd as it is difficult to distinguish in such cases, as error on such\noccasions could only be disastrous, as anarchy could easily spring\nfrom the most legitimate resistance to tyranny, Catholic theologians\ndo not wish that these doubtful cases of conscience should be left\nto the passions of parties or to the blind fury of the mob; but they\nfind a guarantee qualified to defend every right and to reassure every\ninterest in the authority, ever impartial and paternal, of the Vicar of\nJesus Christ.\n\nThe first basis of social order which we are now seeking, can neither\nbe found in the _monarchical principle_.\n\nIn reality, whatever may be to the minds of the greatest philosophers\nthe prerogatives of a limited monarchy, they cannot maintain that it\nis the only legitimate form of government; and consequently, as the\nmonarchical principle is neither universal, absolute, nor immutable, it\nhas none of the marks of a true principle.\n\nBesides, the firmest partisans of monarchy do not assume for it this\nuniversal necessity. In the states with which it is identified, by long\nand legitimate possession, with the principle of right, they justly\nclaim for it all the prerogatives of that principle. Unreasonable as it\nwould be to pretend that monarchy is the only legitimate government for\nall times and all peoples, equally absurd would it be to maintain that,\nwhen it is legitimately established, it can be legitimately combated\nand overthrown. There is no right against right. The monarchical\nprinciple thus defended has no adversaries but those fanatical adorers\nof the republican form whose absolutism is a hundred times more\nunreasonable than ever was that of the most servile worshippers of\nroyal power.\n\nThese topsy-turvy legitimists condemn, from the height of their pride,\nthe immense majority of the human race, arrogating to themselves in\nfavor of their opinion the authority which they refuse to the church of\nGod; and they take to themselves, in remaking it, the motto with which\nthey have so often reproached us: No salvation outside of the republic!\nAfter twenty-five centuries, they renew the foolish enterprise of\nthe Babylonian despot: they wish to compel all the nations under the\nsun to prostrate themselves before the statue of their republic, and\nacknowledge it as the only true divinity.\n\nNo more tyrannical intolerance can be imagined. Whence do these\nabsolutists derive the right of imposing their opinions on their\nequals? From what have they taken the halo with which they surround\nthe cap of liberty, after having trampled all crowns under their feet?\nUndoubtedly, government exists but for the people, but does it follow\nthat it should necessarily be exercised by the people? To refute\ntheir exclusive theories, it would be sufficient to compel them to\nmake an application of them in their own families. In fact, from the\nmoment that the principle becomes absolute, it should be applied to\nall authority; and there is no reason why the family and the workshop\nshould not share with the state the advantages of the republican form.\n\nBut it is waste of time to dwell on this fanaticism, of which, thank\nGod, we do not find a trace among the partisans of monarchy. The\nnecessity which they attribute to it is not absolute, but hypothetical.\nThey affirm that monarchy is the only form of government suited to\nthe characters, defects, customs, and traditions of certain peoples.\nThey say that nations, like individuals, have different temperaments;\nand, consequently, it would be absurd to impose the same rule on all.\nNations, like individuals, when the constitution is formed, when\ninveterate habits have become a second nature, cannot, without danger,\nsuddenly adopt new customs. What would become of a people who should\npersist in making this dangerous experiment? Against their will, they\nwould carry their old customs into the new system; they would preserve\ntheir monarchical manners in the midst of a nominal republic; and this\nbastard government would have all the inconveniences of the monarchy,\nwithout its stability and other advantages.\n\nMore even than individuals, nations live by traditions. By them, the\npast extends its influence over the present, illumines it with the\nreflection of its glory, and animates it with its spirit. Traditions\nbind together the successive periods in a nation\u2019s existence, and\npreserve among its children the unity produced by a long community of\ndangers and struggles, of triumphs and reverses. A people that breaks\nwith tradition is like an uprooted tree; its existence is similar to\nthat of a man, who, having lost his memory, cannot connect the present\nwith the past. Now, it is evident that a nation whose institutions\nand customs for centuries have reposed on monarchy cannot have this\nbasis overthrown without breaking all traditions, and throwing society\nentirely out of its beaten tracks.\n\nThese observations are evidently the dictates of good sense and\nexperience. It is impossible not to be vividly struck by them, when one\nhas lived among a people faithful to its traditions; as the English,\nfor example. Nothing is more striking than the contrast between the\ngeneral security, the vitality, the friendly enjoyments, whose source\nis respect for tradition, with the instability and anxiety which the\nRevolution has produced in our French society, formerly so calm and\njoyous.\n\nBut however well grounded may be this induction, it cannot take the\nplace of the absolute and indisputable principle by which we wish to\nbind together all true and earnest men.\n\nLet us pursue our research, and congratulate ourselves on being\ndispensed in our present position from pausing at the thorny\ndistinction between the _power of right_ and the _power of fact_.\nFor too long a period has this been a cause of incurable division\nbetween the most honest and religious men. Of all the problems which\nbelong to the social order, it is perhaps the most difficult to\nresolve practically. On one side, it is certain that the violation\nof right cannot destroy it, and that the usurper who, to gratify his\nambition, imperils the gravest interests of society, does not become\nlegitimate, even though his attempt be crowned by success. On the\nother side, however, the maintenance of public order being the reason\nof the existence of the rights of power, obedience cannot be refused\nto him who alone has the strength and the means of attaining this\nindispensable end.\n\nFrom this springs one of those conflicts of opinion which make the\nsocial question so difficult. The same public order which commands\nobedience to the usurper alone capable of defending it, forbids\nencouraging the ambition of future usurpers by the full acceptation\nof triumphant crime. The friends of order can then follow different\npaths, according to the preference they may have for either of these\ninterests. The power of fact will attract men who, most affected\nby present necessity, will hope to find in their adhesion to the\nestablished order a safeguard against new convulsions. Others will see\nin this adhesion to the revolution consummated an anticipated sanction\nof future revolutions, and will think themselves obliged to provide\nfor the permanent necessities of society by remaining faithful to the\nfallen power.\n\nThis is not the place to decide such a difficult question, where\neven the supreme authority of the church has thought it often wiser\nto abstain. We need only state as a fact, unfortunate as inevitable,\nthe division which springs from this conflict of duty. It will last\nuntil the illegitimate power is overthrown, or until, by the lapse\nof time, all trace of its origin is lost. In the first case, the\ntransitory right which the usurping government borrowed from fact\nhaving disappeared with the fact, the power of right recovers its\npreponderance. In the second case, fact is transformed into right by\nbecoming alone capable of defending society; and legitimacy, of which\nsocial interest was the base, will disappear with the real possibility\nof saving this supreme interest.\n\nIt is what happened in England, where the tories, the former partisans\nof the Stuarts, have long since adhered to the reigning dynasty.\nBut in France, neither of the two dynasties which succeeded to that\nof our ancient kings established its domination firmly enough, or\nsufficiently renounced its revolutionary principle, to render evident\nto all eyes this union of right and fact. For fifty years, we have seen\nconservatives, religious men, and even the clergy, divided into two\nor three political fractions; and this division has not been one of\nthe least causes of our weakness, and of the growing strength of the\nRevolution.\n\nThe evil appeared irremediable, and each day it acquired fresh gravity;\nfor the government of fact, instead of seeing in the adhesion of men\nof order a motive for returning openly to conservative principles,\nbelieved it to be their interest to conciliate the men of disorder by\nsupporting the principle of the Revolution.\n\nProvidence has drawn us from this position, apparently inextricable,\nand, by the result even of our faults, has made the cause of our\ndivisions disappear. The Revolution has destroyed the governments\nblind enough to lean upon her. The power which exists to-day, and\nwhose strength lies in the Assembly, has more than once acknowledged\nits provisional character. France is, then, free to return to the true\nprinciples of order, and to reunite under one flag all those who are\nsincerely devoted to the holy cause. Nothing prevents her fulfilling a\ncelebrated prediction, and to close, by the proclamation of the rights\nof God, the revolution which opened with the proclamation of the rights\nof man.\n\n\nII.\n\nHerein lies our salvation: to the revolutionary principle, which\nweakens all powers and all social rights, in making them depend on\nman\u2019s caprice, we must oppose the Christian principle, which gives them\nan immovable solidity, in reposing them on the supreme authority of God.\n\nNo innovation is required: we must simply return to the eternal law\u2019s\nof social order. If imprudent architects attempt to change the laws of\nequilibrium, what should be done to repair the ruins accumulated by\ntheir folly? Remember those laws, and enforce their observation. There\nis also an equilibrium in the moral order, and it was the unpardonable\nfault of our fathers that they overlooked its most essential condition.\nLet us hasten to restore all splendor to the truth whose darkening was\nthe cause of our misfortunes. Foreseen and accepted without dispute by\nthe pagans themselves, this generative dogma of society was, in the\ndawn of Christianity, promulgated by S. Paul as one of the principal\narticles of revealed religion; and it did not cease to rule the nations\nof Europe until the epoch when, with the law of Christ, order and peace\nwere driven from their confines. Reason and religion are in perfect\nharmony when they proclaim the Christian principle. They tell us,\nwith one voice, that God, who directs all with so much wisdom in the\nmaterial world, wishes equally, and with much more reason, that order\nshould reign in the moral. In commanding men to unite in society, so\nas to assure by their common efforts the happiness of all, he imposes\non them an obligation to bridle the selfish passions which unceasingly\nconspire against the general interest. And as the only efficacious\nmeans of keeping them in order is the institution of a power armed with\nstrength for the defence of the right, God wills that this power should\nbe created, if it does not exist, and obeyed when it exists.\n\nThus, according to the teaching of Christianity, civil power is divine\nin its origin, and, although a human element must interpose in the\nprinciple to determine the form and choose the depositary, he that\nis once elected commands really in the name of God. \u201cAll power comes\nfrom God,\u201d says S. Paul; it is by order of God that it exists, and\nconsequently it cannot be resisted without resisting the order of God,\nand without drawing down the damnation justly reserved for those who\nrevolt against God.\n\nIt is evident that between this principle which belongs to Catholic\nfaith, and the Gallican opinion of divine right, the difference is not\nso great as would at first appear. Both parties agree as to the origin\nof power, its mission, its rights, and its duties. Only on one point do\nthey differ: according to one, the man who, in the commencement, was\ninvested with power, received it immediately from God; while the other\nholds that the investiture was made by the expressed or tacit consent\nof society. This divergence is clearly more speculative than practical,\nas, with this exception, they both believe the same doctrine.\n\nIt is therefore wrong to seek any analogy between the revolutionary\ntheory and the opinion of Catholic doctors the most favorable to\nthe primitive rights of society. It is only necessary to thoroughly\nunderstand their doctrine to see this resemblance, which is merely\napparent, instantly vanish. According to them, it is true that power\ndepends for its first organization on those whom it will soon command;\nbut once constituted, it is independent of them in its exercise within\nthe limits inherent in the form of government. Society, in reality, is\nnot the source of the authority with which it invests its elect: it\nis only the channel. If it has the right to determine the form and to\nchoose the subject, it is also obliged to make use of this right, and\nto arm the power instituted by it with the full prerogatives necessary\nfor the maintenance of order.\n\nNothing is wanting to authority thus understood; it has a precise end\nand an indispensable reason for being\u2014the defence of individual\nrights, and the maintenance of public order. It has an immutable\nbase\u2014the will of God, the guarantee of rights and the protector\nof order. It has a universal and inevitable sanction\u2014the eternal\npunishment which the contemners of the law cannot escape, even though\nthey succeed in avoiding temporal chastisement. In resting social\norder on the first principle of all things, this doctrine places it\nin perfect harmony with the general order of the universe; and it is\nas satisfactory in theory to the mind of the philosopher as it is\nefficacious in practice in maintaining the order of society. Equally\nfavorable to all legitimate interests, it elevates at the same time the\nmajesty of power and the dignity of obedience; for, if it is glorious\nfor rulers to command in the name of God, it is not less so for the\ngoverned to obey only God.\n\nWhat, on the contrary, is the effect of the revolutionary principle?\nInstead of establishing authority, it destroys it; and, under the\npretext of elevating obedience, degrades it.\n\nIt destroys authority; for there is no true authority, except where\na superior will is invested with the right to command, and an\ninferior one is obliged to obey. Now, these two conditions cannot be\nrealized in the revolutionary theory. The principle of this theory,\nsuch as Rousseau laid it down in his _Social Contract_, is that the\npower placed over civil society draws all its rights from the free\nconcession of those whom it is called to command. It is, then, their\nmandatary, and not their superior; consequently, it has no more the\nright to command them than they are bound to obey it. Rousseau says it\nin these very terms: in obeying it, they only obey themselves; and,\nconsequently, they can, when they please, dispense themselves from\nobedience.\n\nThus, instead of creating authority, the revolutionary principle\nrenders it impossible; and since authority is the essential condition\nof the stability, strength, well-being, and existence even of society,\nit cannot be denied that this principle is the overthrow of social\norder.\n\nBut at the same time that it annihilates the majesty of power, it\ndebases the dignity of obedience. It is very well to say to the\nmembers of society that, in obeying their mandatary, they only obey\nthemselves; it will not prevent them in a thousand circumstances from\nbeing directed to do the contrary of what they would like. What will\nthen happen? If the discontented are numerous and strong enough to\nmake their will prevail over that of power, they will revolt; but, if\nresistance is impossible, they will be compelled to obey. What will be\nthis obedience? The act of a slave who yields to force, and not the act\nof a reasonable man and a Christian who conforms his will to that of\nGod.\n\nInstead of the alliance which Christian doctrine establishes between\nthe majesty of power and the dignity of obedience, the revolutionary\ntheory creates an irreconcilable antagonism between these two essential\nelements of society; it is only by degrading the subjects that the\nrulers can ensure the execution of their orders.\n\nThis radical and absolute opposition between the two doctrines\nnecessarily extends to their consequences. Whilst the Christian\nprinciple gives an inviolable stability to power, and guarantees with\nequal efficacy the rights of the subjects, the revolutionary principle\nhas for result inevitable anarchy and tyranny.\n\nAnarchy first; for how can a power which is absolutely without a base\nsustain itself for any length of time? Consistently with itself, the\ntheory of the Revolution intends that society, in establishing power as\nits mandatary, should not strip itself in any manner of sovereignty.\nAs society created it freely, by an act of its own will it can reverse\nit when it seems desirable, without any one having the right to demand\nan account of its acts. As a consequence, the revolutionary theory\ninvolves daily appeals to new _pl\u00e9biscites_ and to new elections\nfor the overthrow of the established power, and the substitution of\nanother more in accord with the present will of the nation; and, as the\ntriumph of the discontented of yesterday will infallibly create other\ndissatisfied ones, these will have the right to organize to-morrow a\nnew agitation to overthrow everything.\n\nThe constitution cannot legitimately reprove or arrest these attempts;\nfor, emanating like the government from the national will, it is also\nsubordinate to the fluctuations of that capricious sovereign. The\nsmall number of the agitators can be no objection; and you cannot\noppose to them the wishes and rights of the majority. If there is no\nauthority superior to that of man, all human wills are equal, and all\nequally sovereign. The number of those who differ from me gives them a\npreponderating force, but it does not confer on them a superior right.\nIf, then, I think my sentiment the best, nothing can hinder me from\nworking to make it prevail. By making use of intrigue and violence,\nthe smallest minority easily becomes the majority; and, with strength,\nit acquires the right to do all that the revolutionary principle\nattributes to majorities.\n\nWhat can be opposed to this argument? Is it not perfectly logical?\nIf the consequences appear intolerable, there is but one means of\nescape\u2014the return to Christian principle, alone capable of preserving\nsocial order from the convulsions to which it is condemned by these\nattempts against power. Christian doctrine repels the attacks made upon\npublic order with much more severity than the violations of individual\nrights; it brands them as crimes of treason against society. Except in\nthe extreme cases of which we have already spoken, it declares power\ninviolable; not in virtue of the personal prerogative of him who is\ninvested with it, but in virtue of the interest of which he is the\nnecessary guarantee.\n\nThus we have heard S. Paul tell us that he who resists power resists\nthe order of God, and draws damnation on his head. This sentence, we\nknow, does not agree with the verdict of public opinion, as indulgent\nin regard to political crimes as it is severe against those which come\nunder the head of crimes of common right.\n\nOn which side is the truth? If public power is the indispensable\nbulwark of individual rights, can the attempt be made to overthrow it,\nwithout, at the same time, attacking all those rights? If a man, who,\nduring the night, forces his entrance into a house, and seeks to enrich\nhimself to the prejudice of the legitimate possessor, is thrown into\nprison as a criminal unworthy of compassion, how can he merit less\nsevere punishment who shakes the entire social edifice, to gratify his\ncupidity and ambition at the expense of the public peace? Nothing is\nclearer: in listening to the revolutionary theories in preference to\nthe Christian doctrine, public opinion is in complete disagreement with\nreason.\n\nWould to God that it was all limited to a theoretical opposition!\nUnfortunately, nothing is more practical than revolutionary error; as,\nfor a century, the conclusions to which logic has led us have been but\ntoo well confirmed by experience. Nothing, then, is wanting to enable\nus to judge the two rival doctrines with full knowledge of the case. We\nhave seen them at work\u2014one for fourteen centuries, the other during\nthe age nearest our own time; they have given their measure, and are\nknown by their fruits. One, in semi-barbarous times, endowed France\nwith the unity, glory, concentration of strength, and expansion which\nplaced her in the first rank among the nations of the world; the other,\nin an age of advanced civilization and unheard-of material progress,\nheaped ruins upon ruins on our unfortunate country\u2014religious ruin,\nmoral ruin, social ruin, political ruin, financial ruin, military\nruin\u2014nothing remained standing when with the principle of authority\nthe necessary foundation of society was overthrown.\n\nAnd let it not be imagined that, in thus delivering the social body\nto the ravages of anarchy, the revolutionary principle guarantees it\nagainst the rigors of tyranny. No; it condemns it inevitably to suffer\nthose rigors. At the same time that it disarms power with regard to the\nwicked passions, it arms it with an all-powerful force against the most\nsacred rights. Rousseau avowed it frankly; and, from the Convention\nto Prince Bismarck, all revolutionary governments have practised this\nlesson. Nothing escapes the sovereignty of the state from the moment\nthat the state is emancipated from the authority of God. The soul\nof the citizen belongs to it with the same title as his body; the\nquestions of doctrine are not more independent of its control than\nthose of policy; the church and the school are under its jurisdiction\nas well as the public streets and the prison.\n\nSince society recognizes no authority above it, and the state\nrepresents the social will, it is absolute master, it is all-powerful,\nit is God. It is the state that makes justice and truth, that creates\nrights, that is the supreme arbiter of conscience; and its omnipotence,\nas unlimited as fragile, leaves to the citizen but the choice between\ntwo expedients: either to bend with docility under its yoke by\nabdicating all moral dignity, or to overthrow it, with the certainty of\nseeing it replaced by an equal tyranny.\n\nThus the revolutionary theory, which is permanent anarchy, is at the\nsame time organized despotism. At other periods, we have seen society,\ndeprived of its equilibrium, oscillate between these two extremes,\npassing in turn from anarchy to tyranny, and from tyranny to anarchy.\nThanks to revolutionary progress, we can enjoy simultaneously the\nadvantages of these two states, and taste the vexations of despotism,\nwithout escaping the agitations of anarchy. Since the proclamation of\nthe pretended liberal principles, we have seen disappear the liberties\nwhich, under the most absolute systems, were considered as inviolable.\nProvincial and communal franchises, the rights of the father over his\nchildren, of the proprietor over his possessions, of the testator over\nhis estate\u2014all have been grasped by the iron hand of the state. It\nhas broken all counterbalancing influences, and those that it has not\ncompletely annihilated only subsist during its good pleasure.\n\nHow different is the theory of power, regarded by the light of\nChristian principle! Instituted for the protection of rights and the\nrepression of injustice, it extends its jurisdiction only by the means\nnecessary for attaining its end. As soon as it would leave that sphere,\nit becomes an usurper. Its power is limited in every sense by divine\nlaw and by the pre-existing rights of the subjects; for, instead of\nthe revolutionary theory that the state creates the rights of private\nindividuals, it is Christian doctrine that the rights of individuals\nincapable of defending themselves rendered necessary the creation of\nthe state.\n\nAccording to the first, society is everything, the individual\nnothing; according to the second, the individual alone has immortal\ndestinies, and civil society is but a temporary means to facilitate the\naccomplishment of those destinies. The least of the subjects has, then,\nthe right to oppose his conscience as a brazen wall against the unjust\nwill of a despot; and, if this protestation is not heeded, another\nvoice will soon be heard which will resound to the extremities of the\nuniverse\u2014the voice of the incorruptible defender of justice, and the\nprotector of oppressed weakness; of him whom God has placed on the\nearth to speak in his name, to promulgate his law, and to recall alike\nprinces and people to the respect of justice.\n\nIt is not necessary to give further proof of the doctrine we have\nendeavored to explain. There is not one of our readers who will not\ninstantly understand the principle whose restoration we have declared\nindispensable for putting an end to the fatal reign of the Revolution.\nWe were not wrong in giving it the name of principle, as from it flow\nall the laws of political order, at the same time that itself is\nimmediately derived from the very idea of that order. It is, then,\nnecessary, universal, and absolute; it extends to all times, all forms\nof government, all degrees of civilization. At once political and\nreligious, rational and revealed, it belongs to universal ethics, and\nis part of the traditional dogma. He who denies it will be condemned\nby the church as a heretic, and will be disowned by reason, as both a\nrebel against evidence, and guilty of an attack on the essential laws\nof social order.\n\n\nIII.\n\nIf we have succeeded in demonstrating this truth, it will not be\ndifficult to decide upon the duties it imposes upon us, and the means\nwe must employ to incline in the way of salvation the undecided balance\nof the destinies of France.\n\nSince the proclamation of the revolutionary principle in the last\ncentury was the commencement of our ruin, we can only save ourselves\nby denying it with all possible solemnity, and in placing the contrary\nprinciple as the basis of the future constitution of our country.\nWe must, in fine, leave the ways which have misled and lost all the\npowers that during fifty years have assumed in France the mission\nof restoring public order. Undoubtedly, none of them accepted the\nrevolutionary theory to its full extent; they even by more than one act\nimplied its negation. But these isolated efforts, extorted from them\nby the instinct of preservation, did not prevent them from habitually\nsubmitting to the influences of the Revolution, and even often\nrendering homage to its principles.\n\nSprung from its bosom, they dared not deny their origin, and they\ndid not understand that, while shrinking from this disavowal, they\ncondemned themselves to be overthrown by the blind force which\nhad lifted them on its shield. One after the other they deceived\nthemselves, and France with them, by taking \u201cthe great principles of\n\u201889\u201d as the palladium of their thrones and their dynasties. It was\nasking a guarantee of duration from the most energetic dissolvent,\nand giving a solemn falsehood to France as a political creed. We have\nshown elsewhere that, under ambiguous formulas intended to deceive\nthoughtless good faith, the declaration of 1789 contains, in seventeen\narticles, the pure theory of the Revolution. We willingly admit that\nthis hypocrisy of language might, at the first moment, put on the wrong\nscent a generation intoxicated with the desire of reform; but to be\nstill seduced by it, after so many bloody revolutions have too clearly\ncommented this ambiguous text, would be intolerable.\n\nIf we push blindness to this excess, will we deserve to be called the\nmost intellectual people in the world? We have been duped by a comedy\nof fifteen years; will it be so with a comedy of a hundred? It is thus\nthat posterity will name the century in which the principles of \u201889\nwere the theme of the most gigantic mystification found in history.\nAll the civilized nations have been more or less cheated by this\njugglery of the most precious liberties, in the name of liberalism;\nbut France has played a separate part. It is she who, after being\nherself deceived, endeavored to make the entire universe share in her\ndeception, and thus took upon herself both the shame of the fraud, and\nthe responsibility of the imposture.\n\nLet us be done with this odious falsehood, and return to reality.\nLet us seek true liberties in the proclamation of true principles,\nand ensure respect for the rights of man by the restoration of the\nauthority of God.\n\nThis is the first duty that the vital interest of France imposes on all\nmen called to take any part whatever in the re-establishment of power.\n\nBut henceforward we have another obligation to fulfil. Honest men of\nall parties must unite in the proclamation of the Christian principle,\nand renounce any alliance with the defenders of the Revolution. Former\nparties must disappear, and only leave in the field the great armies of\norder and disorder. This division alone has a reason for existing in\nthe present state of society. Old parties, on the contrary, can only be\ndivided by personal questions, to which it would be shameful to attach\nany importance in presence of the dangers that menace society. All\nparties, even those that seem to yield the most thorough allegiance to\nthe Revolution, contain a greater or less number of friends of order\nwhose equivocal connections do not prevent their disowning, in the\nbottom of their hearts, the revolutionary principle.\n\nThe moment has come to separate these contrary elements united by\npurely accidental affinities. We are approaching one of those fatal\ndates that betokens the end of one world, and the commencement of\nanother; one of those partial judgments of Providence that prelude the\ngeneral one by which divine justice will close the era of time, to open\nthat of eternity. Now, as then, the terrible blows of the Almighty\ndissipate illusions, crush adverse interests, and bring to light the\ntwo contrary tendencies which have been hidden in the depths of hearts;\nthe two opposite loves that, since the beginning of the world, have\ndivided humanity into two hostile cities.\n\nIt is, then, indispensable to take a side; the time of tergiversation\nand compromise is past; we must be for truth or falsehood, for order or\nthe Revolution, for Jesus Christ or the infernal chief of all rebels.\nAnd it does not suffice to carry the truth in the heart: it must be\nprofessed openly and courageously. The more evident is the necessity\nof adhering to the Christian principle, the more manifest is the\ndouble obligation that flows from it for honest men of all parties to\nform a compact league, whatever may have previously been their mutual\nestrangement, and to separate themselves from the revolutionists, with\nwhom circumstances may have connected them.\n\nWe will go on no further, for we have resolved not to leave the region\nof principles; but the men to whom Providence has given the mission and\npower to save us cannot stop there. They must bring down the saving\nprinciple from the region of abstractions to that of facts, give it\na concrete existence, a determined form, a durable organization, a\nstrength sufficient to maintain itself, and to raise us up. It is not\nour province to guide them in the accomplishment of this task; may God\ngive them, with the light which will show them the path of salvation,\nstrength to follow it, and draw France after them! They are called to\nbe nothing less than the saviours of their country and of Christendom;\nfor it is not only the destinies of France which they hold in their\nhands, but those of Christian civilization, incapable, if France\nyields, of escaping from the invasion of the double revolution of\nC\u00e6sarism and demagogism. May they feel the gravity of the situation,\nand understand that such great peril demands heroic resolutions!\n\nTo worthily fulfil this mission, the most important, perhaps, ever\nconfided to a deliberative assembly, they must rise above all\nconsideration of persons, all interests of parties, and they must\nchoose, in the sincerity of their conscience, the man and the form\nof government that will most surely guarantee the restoration of the\nChristian principle, and the repudiation of the revolutionary, the\ndestruction of anarchy and C\u00e6sarism, the protection of every right,\nand the re-establishment of true liberty. This choice, which alone\ncan save us, will not be difficult from the moment that they agree on\nthe principle from which it must proceed, and the end which must be\nattained; and once the choice made under the eye of God, it will be\nstill less difficult, with his help, to make it acceptable to France.\n\nThe Comte de Breda recently recalled to us, as appropriate to the time,\nthe consoling and prophetic words written by Joseph de Maistre in 1797,\nat an epoch when the restoration of order appeared still more difficult\nthan at the present time: \u201cCan we believe that the political world\nmoves by chance, and that it is not organized, directed, animated, by\nthe same wisdom which shines in the physical? The great criminals who\noverthrow a state necessarily produce heart-rending wounds; but, when\nman works to re-establish order, he associates himself with the Author\nof order, he is favored by nature\u2014that is to say, by the harmony of\nsecondary causes, which are the ministers of divine power. His action\nhas something in it of divine; it is at the same time gentle and\nimperious; he forces nothing, and nothing resists him.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGRAPES AND THORNS.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\nCRICHTON, AND THE CRICHTONIANS.\n\nTHE delicate exuberance of a New England spring was making amends for\nthe rigor of a New England winter, and for its own tardy coming. Up\nthrough the faded sward pushed multitudinously all the little budding\nprogeny of nature; out through rough bark burst the tender foliage; and\nall the green was golden-green. Light winds blew hither and thither;\nlight clouds chased each other over the sky, now and then massing their\nforces to send a shower down, the drops so entangled with sunshine as\nto look like a rain of diamonds. Birds soared joyously, singing as\nthey flew; and the channels of the brooks could scarcely contain their\nfrolicsome streams. Sometimes a scattered sisterhood of snowflakes\ncame down to see their ancestresses, and, finding them changed into\nsnowdrops, immediately melted into an ecstasy, and so exhaled.\n\nThis vernal freshness made the beautiful city of Crichton fairer yet,\nwith curtains waving from open windows, vines budding over the walls,\nand all the many trees growing alive. It set a fringe of grasses\nnodding over the edges of three yellow paths ravelled out from a new\nroad that, when it had travelled about a mile westward from the city,\ngave up being a road for the present. One of these paths started off\nsouthward, and sank into a swamp. In summer, this swamp was as purple\nas a ripe plum with flower-de-luce, and those who loved nature well\nenough to search for her treasures could find there also an occasional\ncardinalflower, a pink arethusa, or a pitcherblossom full to the\nbrim with the last shower, or the last dew-fall. The second path ran\nnorthward to the bank of the Cocheco River, and broke off on the top\nof a cliff. If you should have nerve enough to scramble down the face\nof this cliff, you would find there the most romantic little cave\nimaginable, moss-lined, and furnished with moss cushions to its rock\ndivans. A wild cherry-tree had in some way managed to find footing just\nbelow the cave, and at this season it would push up a spray of bloom,\nin emulation of the watery spray beneath. Fine green vines threaded\nall the moss; and, if one of them were lifted, it would show a line of\nhoney-sweet bell-flowers strung under its round leaves.\n\nThe third path kept on westward to a dusky tract of pine-woods about\ntwo miles from the town. No newly-sprouting verdure was visible amid\nthis sombre foliage; but there was a glistening through it all like\nthe smile on a dark face, and the neighboring air was embalmed with its\nfine resinous perfume.\n\nOut from this wood came sounds of laughter and many voices, some\nshrill and childish, others deeper voices of men, or softer voices of\nwomen. Occasionally might be heard a fitful song that broke off and\nbegan again, only to break and begin once more, as though the singer\u2019s\nhands were busy. Yet so dense was the border of the wood with thick,\nlow-growing branches that, had you gone even so near as to step on\ntheir shadows, and slip on the smooth hollows full of cones and needles\nthey had let fall, not a person would you have seen.\n\nA girlish voice burst out singing:\n\n  \u201c\u2018The year\u2019s at the spring,\n  And day\u2019s at the morn;\n  Morning\u2019s at seven;\n  The hillside\u2019s dew-pearled.\n  The lark\u2019s on the wing,\n  The snail\u2019s on the thorn;\n  God\u2019s in his heaven\u2014\n  All\u2019s right with the world!\u2019\n\nOnly day is not at the morn,\u201d the voice added correctingly; \u201cfor it is\nnear sunset. But,\u201d singing again,\n\n  \u201c\u2018The year\u2019s at the spring;\n  The lark\u2019s on the wing;\n  God\u2019s in his heaven\u2014\n  And all\u2019s right with the world!\u2019\n\n\u2014which may be called making a posy out of a poem.\u201d\n\nA young man\u2019s voice spoke: \u201cAll will soon be wrong in a part of the\nworld, Pippa, if I do not call the sheep to fold.\u201d And immediately a\nloud bugle-call sounded through the forest, and died away in receding\nechoes.\n\nPresently a Maying-party came trooping forth into sight.\n\nFirst, stooping low under the boughs, a score of boys and girls\nappeared, their cheeks bright with exercise and pure air, their silken\nhair dishevelled. After them followed, more sedately, a group of youths\nand maidens, \u201cPippa,\u201d otherwise Lily Carthusen, and the bugler, among\nthem. All these young people were decked with wreaths of ground pine\naround their hats, waists, and arms, and they carried hands full of\nMayflowers.\n\nLastly, two gentlemen, one at either hand, held back the branches, and\nMiss Honora Pembroke stepped from under the dark-green arch.\n\nIf you are a literal sort of person, and make a point of calling\nthings by their everyday names, you would have described her as a\nnoble-looking young woman, dressed in a graceful brown gown, belted\nat the waist, after a Grecian fashion, and some sort of cloudy blue\ndrapery that was slipping from her head to her shoulders. You would\nhave said that her hair was a yellowish brown that looked bright in the\nsun, her eyes about the same color, her features very good, but not so\nclassical in shape as her robe. You might have added that there was\nan expression that, really\u2014well, you did not know just how to name\nit, but you should judge that the young woman was romantic, though not\nwithout sense. If you should have guessed her age to be twenty-eight,\nyou would have been right.\n\nIf, on the other hand, you are poetically Christian, ever crowning with\nthe golden thorns of sacrifice whatever is most beautiful on earth,\nyou would have liked to take the Mayflower wreath from this womanly\nmaiden\u2019s hand, place the palm-branch in its stead, and so send her to\nheaven by the way of the lions. Her face need hardly have changed to go\nthat road, so lofty and delicate was the joy that shone under her quiet\nexterior, so full of light the eyes that, looking straight before her\ninto space, seemed to behold all the glory of the skies.\n\nThe girl who came next was very different, not at all likely to suggest\npoetical fancies, though when you looked closely you could see much\nfineness of outline in the features and form. But she was spoilt in\nthe coloring\u2014a sallow skin, \u201csandy\u201d hair, and light eyes giving a\ndingy look to her face. She was spoilt still more by the expression,\nwhich was superficial, and by being overdressed for her size and the\noccasion, and a little ragged from the bushes. This is Miss, or, as\nshe likes to be called, Mademoiselle, Annette Ferrier. If at some\nmoment, unawares, you should take the liberty to call her Ni\u00f1on, with\nan emphatic nasal, she would forgive you beamingly, and consider you\na very charming person. Mademoiselle, who, like three generations of\nher ancestors, was born in America, and who had spent but three months\nof her life in France, had no greater ambition than to be taken for a\nFrench lady. But do not set her down as a simpleton. Her follies are\nnot malicious, and may wear off. Have you never seen the young birds,\nwhen they are learning to fly, how clumsily they tumble about? yet\nafterward they cleave the air like arrows with their strong pointed\nwings. And have you not seen some bud, pushing out at first in a dull,\nrude sheath that mars the beauty of the plant, open at last to disclose\npetals of such rare beauty that the sole glory of the plant was in\nupbearing it? Some souls have to work off a good deal of clinging\nfoolishness before they come to themselves. Therefore, let us not\nclassify Miss Ferrier just yet.\n\nShe had scarcely appeared, when one branch was released with a\ndiscourteous haste that sent it against her dress, and a gentleman\nquickly followed her, and, with a somewhat impatient air, took his\nplace at her side. Mr. Lawrence Gerald had that style of beauty which\nsuggests the pedestal\u2014an opaque whiteness of tint as pure as the\npetal of a camellia, clustering locks of dark hair, and an exquisite\nperfection of form and feature. He and Miss Ferrier were engaged to be\nmarried, which was some excuse for the profuse smiles and blushes she\nexpended on him, and which he received with the utmost composure.\n\nThe second branch swung softly back from the hand that carefully\nreleased it, and Mr. Max Sch\u00f6ninger came into sight, brushing the brown\npine-scales from his gloves. He was the last in order, but not least\nin consequence, of the party, as more than one backward glance that\nwatched for his appearance testified. This was a tall, fair-haired\nGerman, with powerful shoulders, and strong arms that sloped to the\nfinest of sensitive hands. He had a grave countenance, which sometimes\nlit up beautifully with animated expression, and sometimes also veiled\nitself in a singular manner. Let anything be said that excited his\ninstinct of reserve or self-defence, and he could at once banish\nall expression from his face. The broad lids would droop over those\nchangeful eyes of his, and one saw only a blank where the moment before\nhad shone a cordial and vivid soul.\n\nWhen we say that Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger was a Jew who had all his life been\nassociated more with Christians than with his own people, this guarded\nmanner will not seem unnatural. He glanced over the company, and was\nhesitatingly about to join Miss Pembroke, when one of the children left\nher playmates, and ran to take his hand. Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger was never on\nhis guard with children, and those he petted were devotedly fond of\nhim. He smiled in the upturned face of this little girl, held the small\nhand closely, and led her on.\n\nThe order of march changed as the party advanced. Those who had been\nlast to leave the wood were made to take precedence; the youths and\nmaidens dropped behind them, and, as both walked slowly forward, the\nyounger ones played about them, now here, now there. It was like an air\nwith variations.\n\nThe elders of the company were very quiet, Miss Carthusen a little\nannoyed. She need not have wasted her eloquence in persuading Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger to come with them, if he was going to devote himself to\nthat baby. Miss Carthusen was clever, and rather pretty, and she liked\nto talk. What was the use of having ideas and fancies, if one was not\nto express them? Why should one go into company, if one was to remain\nsilent? She considered Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger too superb by half.\n\nThe sun was setting, and it flooded all the scene with a light so rich\nas to seem tangible. Whatever it fell upon was not merely illuminated,\nit was gilded. The sky was hazy with that radiance, the many windows\non the twin hills of Crichton blazed like beacons, and the short green\nturf glistened with a yellow lustre. Those level rays threw the long\nshadows of the flower-bearers before them as they walked, dazzled the\nfaces turned sidewise to speak, turned the green wreaths on their heads\ninto golden wreaths, and sparkled in their hair. When Miss Pembroke\nput her hand up to shade her eyes in looking backward, the ungloved\nfingers shone as if transparent. She had been drinking in the beauty\nof the evening till it was all ready to burst from her lips, and there\nseemed to be no one who perceived that beauty but herself. She would\nhave liked to be alone, with no human witness, and to give vent to the\ndelight that was tingling in her veins. A strong impulse was working\nin her to lift a fold of her dress at either side, slide out that\npretty foot of hers now hidden under the hem, and go floating round in\na dance, advancing as she turned, like a planet in its path. It would\nhave been a relief could she have sung at the very top of her voice.\nShe had looked backward involuntarily at Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger, expecting some\nsympathy from him; but, seeing him engrossed in his little charge,\nhad dropped her hand, and walked on, feeling rather disappointed. \u201cI\nsupposed he believed in the creation, at least,\u201d she thought.\n\nMiss Pembroke was usually a very dignified and quiet young woman, who\nsaid what she meant, who never effervesced on small occasions, and\nsometimes found herself unmoved on occasions which many considered\ngreat ones. But when, now and then, the real afflatus came, it was hard\nto have her lips sealed and her limbs shackled.\n\nAs she dropped her hand, faintly and fairylike in the distance she\nheard all the bells of Crichton ringing for sunset.\n\n_Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus_, she sang softly, clasping her hands, still\nwalking forward; and so went on with the rest of the hymn, not minding\nwhere the others of the party were, or if there were any others,\ntill she felt a little pull at her dress, and became aware that Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger\u2019s young friend had urged him forward to hear the singing,\nand was holding up her hand to the singer. But the Jew\u2019s visor was down.\n\nMiss Pembroke took the child\u2019s hand, which thus formed a link between\nthe two, and continued her singing: _Benedictus qui venit in nomini\nDomini_. She felt almost as if the man, thus linked to her by that\ntransparent, innocent nature of the little girl between them, were\nspiritually joining her in the Hosanna. How deep or bitter his\nprejudices might be she knew not. Their acquaintance had been short,\nand they had never spoken of their theological differences. That his\nunbelief could be profound, yet gentle and tolerant toward her belief,\nhad never occurred to her mind. She would have been scarcely more\nshocked than astonished could she have known the thought that almost\nescaped his lips. \u201cShe is too noble to be a worshipper of strange\ngods,\u201d he thought. \u201cWhen will this miserable delusion be swept away!\u201d\n\nA slim, light hand stole into Miss Pembroke\u2019s arm on the other side,\nand Miss Carthusen\u2019s cheek pressed close to her shoulder. Miss\nCarthusen was a foundling, and had been adopted by a wealthy and\nchildless couple. Nothing whatever was known of her parentage.\n\n\u201cLady Honora,\u201d she whispered, \u201cthis scene reminds me of something. I\nam like Mignon, with my recollections gathering fast into a picture;\nonly my past is further away than hers was. I almost know who I am, and\nwhere I came from. It flashes back now. We were dancing on the green,\na ring of us. It was not in this land. The air was warm, the sward\nlike rose-leaves; there were palms and temples not far away. I had\nthis hand stretched forward to one who held it, and the other backward\nto one who held it, and so we danced, and there were wreaths on our\nheads, vine-leaves tangled in our hair. Suddenly something swept over\nand through us, like a cold wind, or a sharp cry, or both, and we all\nbecame fixed in a breath, the smile, the wreath, the tiptoe foot, and\nwe hardened and grew less, and the air inside the ring died with our\nbreaths in it, and the joy froze out of us, and the recollection of\nall we were faded. We were like flames that have gone out. There was\nnothing left but an antique vase with Bacchantes dancing round it in\na petrified circle. Have you ever seen such a vase, with one figure\nmissing?\u201d\n\n\u201cSilly child!\u201d said Honora, smiling, but shrinking a little. This girl\nwas too clinging, her imagination too pagan. \u201cIt is said that, at the\nbirth of Christ, that wail was heard through all the hosts of pagan\ndemons. \u2018Pan is dead!\u2019 they cried, and fled like dry leaves before a\nNovember wind. Pan is dead, Lily Carthusen; and if you would kindle his\naltars again, you must go down into the depths of perdition for the\nspark.\u201d\n\nShe spoke with seriousness, even with energy, and a light blush\nfluttered into her cheeks, and faded out again.\n\nMiss Carthusen, still clinging to the arm she had clasped, leaned\nforward to cast a laughing glance into the face beyond. \u201cTo Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger,\u201d she said, \u201cwe are both talking mythology.\u201d\n\nMiss Pembroke freed her arm decidedly, and stepped backward, so as to\nbring herself between Miss Ferrier and Lawrence Gerald. She took an arm\nof each, and held them a moment as if she were afraid. \u201cAnnette, Lily\nCarthusen must not help us to trim the altar,\u201d she said. \u201cIt is not\nfitting. We will do it ourselves, with Mother Chevreuse.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut Lily has such taste,\u201d was the reluctant answer. \u201cAnd she may be\ndispleased if we do not ask her.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur Lady thinks more of devotion than of taste, Annette,\u201d Miss\nPembroke said earnestly. \u201cIt seems to me that every flower ought to be\nplaced there by the hand of faith and love.\u201d\n\nThe other yielded. People always did yield when Miss Pembroke urged.\nAnd Miss Carthusen, fortunately, saved them the embarrassment of\ndeclining her assistance by walking on, engrossed in a gay conversation\nwith the German. When she recollected, they were already far apart. She\nand her companion were close to the town, and the others had stopped\nwhere the three paths met.\n\nThe children gathered about Miss Ferrier, and began piling their\nMayflowers and green wreaths into her arms; for the flowers were all\nto decorate the altar of Mary in the beautiful church of S. John the\nEvangelist. These children were not half of them Catholic; but that\nmade no difference in Crichton, where the people prided themselves on\nbeing liberal. Moreover, Miss Ferrier was a person of influence, and\ncould reward those who obliged her.\n\nThen they scattered, dropping into different roads, one by one, and\ntwo by two, till only three, heavily laden with their fragrant spoil,\nwere left walking slowly up South Avenue, into which the unfinished\nroad expanded when it reached the city. They were to take tea at Mrs.\nFerrier\u2019s, and afterward go to the church; for this was the last day of\na warm and forward April, and on the next morning the exercises of the\nMonth of Mary were to begin. At the most commanding spot on the crown\nof the hill stood Mrs. Ferrier\u2019s house; and one has but to glance at it\nto understand at once why mademoiselle is a person of influence.\n\nSeventeen years before, those who knew them would have imagined almost\nany change of fortune sooner than that the Ferriers should become\npeople of wealth. There was Mr. Ferrier, a stout, dull, uneducated,\nhard-working man, who had not talent nor ambition enough to learn any\ntrade, but passed his life in drudging for any one who would give him\na day\u2019s work. A man of obtuse intelligence, and utterly uncultivated\ntastes, but for the spark of faith left in that poor soul of his, he\nwould have been a clod. But there the spark was, like a lamp in a tomb,\nshowing, with its faint but steady light, the wreck of the beautiful,\nand the noble, and the sublime that was man as God made him; showing\nthe dust of lost powers and possibilities, and the dust of much\naccumulated dishonor; showing the crumbling skeleton of a purpose that\nhad started perfect; and showing also, carven deep, but dimly seen, the\nword of hope, _Resurgam!_\n\nThose human problems meet us often, staggering under the primal curse,\nground down to pitiless labor from the cradle to the grave, losing in\ntheir sordid lives, little by little, first, the strength and courage\nto look abroad, then the wish, and, at last, the power, the soul in\nthem shining with only an occasional flicker through the _d\u00e9bris_ of\ntheir degraded natures. But if faith be there buried with the soul in\nthat earthy darkness, the word of hope is still for them _Resurgam!_\n\nThere was Mrs. Ferrier, a very different sort of person, healthy,\nthrifty, cheerful, with a narrow vein of stubborn good sense that\nwas excellent as far as it went, and with a kind heart and a warm\ntemper. The chief fault in her was a common fault: she wished to\nshape and measure the world by her own compasses; and, since those\nwere noticeably small, the impertinence was very apparent. She was\nreligiously obedient to her husband when he raised his fist; but, in\nmost matters, she ruled the household, Mr. Ferrier being authoritative\nonly on the subject of his three meals, his pipe and beer, and his\noccasional drop of something stronger.\n\nAnd there were five or six young ones, new little souls in very soiled\nbodies, the doors of life still open for them, their eyes open also to\nsee, and their wills free to choose. These little ones, happy in their\nrags, baked mud pies, squabbled and made up twenty times a day, ate and\nslept like the healthy animals they were, their greatest trial being\nwhen their faces were washed and their hair combed, on which occasion\nthere was an uproar in the family. These occasions were not frequent.\n\nThe Ferrier mansion had but one room, and the Ferrier plenishing was\nsimple. The wardrobe also was simple. For state days, monsieur had\na state costume, the salient points of which were an ample white\nwaistcoat and an ancient and well-preserved silk hat which he wore very\nfar back on his head, both these articles being part of his wedding\ngear. Madame had also her gala attire, with which she always assumed\nan expression of complacent solemnity. This toilet was composed of a\ndark-red merino gown, a dingy _broch\u00e9_ shawl, and a large straw bonnet,\nmost unconsciously Pompadour, with its pink flowers and blue ribbons.\nFor great occasions, the children had shoes, bought much too large\nthat they might not be outgrown; and they had hats nearly as old as\nthemselves. The girls had flannel gowns that hung decently to their\nheels; the boys, less careful of their finery, had to go very much\npatched.\n\nOn Sundays and holidays, they all walked two miles to hear Mass, and\neach one put a penny into the box. On Christmas Days, they each gave\na silver quarter, the father distributing the coin just before the\ncollector reached them, all blushing with pride and pleasure as they\nmade their offering, and smiling for some time after, the children\nnudging and whispering to each other till they had to be set to rights\nby their elders. Contented souls, how simple and harmless they were!\n\nInto the midst of this almost unconscious poverty, wealth dropped\nlike a bombshell. If the sea of oil under their cabin and pasture had\nsuddenly exploded and blown them sky-high, they could not have been\nmore astounded; for oil there was, and floods of it. At almost any part\nof the little tract of land they had bought for next to nothing, it was\nbut to dig a hole, and liquid gold bubbled up by the barrelful.\n\nMr. Ferrier, poor man! was like a great clumsy beetle that blunders\nout of the familiar darkness of night into a brilliantly lighted room.\nPerhaps something aspiring and only half dead in him cried out through\nhis dulness with a voice he could not comprehend; perhaps the sudden\nbrightness put out what little sight he had: who knows? He drank. He\nwas in a dream; and he drank again. The dream became a nightmare; and\nstill he drank\u2014drank desperately\u2014till at last nature gave way under\nthe strain, and there came to him an hour of such utter silence as he\nhad not known since he lay, an infant, in his mother\u2019s lap. During that\nsilence, light broke in at last, and the imprisoned light shone out\nwith a strange and bewildered surprise. The priest, that visible angel\nof God, was by his side, instructing his ignorance, calming his fears,\ncalling up in his awakening soul the saving contrition, leaving him\nonly when the last breath had gone.\n\nAfter the husband went child after child, till but two were left,\nAnnette and Louis. These, the eldest, the mother saved alive.\n\nWe laugh at the preposterous extravagance and display of the newly\nenriched. But is there not something pitiful in it, after all? How it\ntells of wants long denied, of common pleasures that were so distant\nfrom those hopeless eyes as to look like shining stars! They flutter\nand run foolishly about, those suddenly prosperous ones, like birds\nreleased from the cage, like insects when the stone is lifted from\nthem; but those who have always been free to practise their smooth\nflight through a sunny space, or to crawl at ease over the fruits of\nthe world, would do well not to scorn them.\n\nThe house Mrs. Ferrier had built for herself in the newest and finest\navenue of Crichton was, it must be confessed, too highly ornamented.\nUltra-Corinthian columns; cornerstones piled to the very roof at each\nangle, and so laboriously vermiculated that they gave one an impression\nof wriggling; cornices laden with carving, festoons, fancy finials\nwherever they could perch; oriels, baywindows, arched windows with\ncarven faces over them\u2014all these fretted the sight. But the view from\nthe place was superb.\n\nWhen our three flower-bearers reached the gate, they turned to\ncontemplate the scene.\n\nAll round, a circle of purple hills stood bathed in the sunset. From\nthese hills the Crichtonians had borrowed the graceful Athenian title,\nand called their fair city the \u201ccity of the violet crown.\u201d Forming\ntheir eastern boundary flowed the stately Saranac, that had but lately\ncarried its last float of ice out to sea, almost carrying a bridge with\nit. Swollen with dissolving snows, it glided past, a moving mirror,\nnearly to the tops of the wharves. Northward was the Cocheco, an\nuntamed little river born and brought up amid crags and rocks. It cleft\nthe city in twain, to cast itself headlong into the Saranac, a line of\nbubbles showing its course for half a mile down the smoother tide.\n\nThe Cocheco was in high feather this spring, having succeeded at last\nin dislodging an unsightly mill that had been built at one of its most\npicturesque turns. Let trade go up the Saranac, and bind its gentler\nwaters to grind wheat and corn, and saw logs, and act as sewer; the\nCocheco reserved itself for the beautiful and the contemplative. It\nliked that lovers should walk the winding roads along its banks; that\nchildren should come at intervals, wondering, half afraid, as if in\nfairy-land; that troubled souls, longing for solitude, should find it\nin some almost inaccessible nook among its crags; but, best of all,\nit liked that some child of grace, divinely gifted to see everything\nin God, should walk rejoicingly by its side. \u201cO my God! how sweet are\nthose little thoughts of thine, the violets! How thy songs flow down\nthe waters, and roll out from the clouds! How tender is the shadow of\nthy hand when at night it presses our heavy eyelids down, and folds us\nto sleep in thy bosom, or when it wakens us silently to commune with\nthee!\u201d For such a soul, the river had an articulate voice, and answered\nsong for song.\n\nYes; that was what it had to do in the world. Away with mills and\ntraffic! Let trade go up the Saranac.\n\nSo for three years watery tongues had licked persistently at posts and\ntimbers, legions of bubbles had snapped at splinters till they wore\naway, and the whole river had gathered and flung itself against the\nfoundations, till at last, when the spring thaw came, over went the\nmill, and was spun down stream, and flung into the deeper tide, and so\nswept out to sea. Let trade go up the Saranac!\n\nBut the patient Saranac sawed the logs, and carried away their dust\nand refuse, and took all the little fretted brooks and rivers into its\nbosom, and soothed their murmurs there. And both did God\u2019s will, and\nboth were good.\n\nHalf hidden by the steep slope of the hill, as one stood in Mrs.\nFerrier\u2019s porch, was the church of S. John the Evangelist. Only the\nunfinished tower of it was visible, and a long line of slated roof seen\nin glimpses between spires and chimneys.\n\n\u201cI really believe, Lawrence, that Crichton is the pleasantest place in\nthe world,\u201d remarked Miss Pembroke, after a short silence.\n\nA servant had taken away their flowers to keep fresh for the evening,\nand Miss Ferrier had gone in to change her dress. The mother being\naway, there was no need the other two should enter, when the lovely\nevening invited them to remain outside.\n\nReceiving no reply, the lady glanced inquiringly at her companion, and\nsaw that his silence was a dissenting one. He had thrown himself into a\nchair, tossed his hat aside, and was looking off into the distance with\nfixed and gloomy eyes. The tumbled locks of hair fell over half his\nforehead, his attitude expressed discontent and depression, and there\nwas a look about the mouth that showed his silence might proceed only\nfrom the suppression of a reply too bitter or too rude to utter.\n\nSeeing that her glance might force him to speak, she anticipated him,\nand continued, in a gentle, soothing tone: \u201cIf one loves religion, here\nis a beautiful church, and the best of priests; if one is intellectual,\nhere is every advantage\u2014books, lectures, and a cultivated society; if\none is a lover of nature, where can be found a more beautiful country?\nOh! it is not Switzerland nor Italy, I know; but it is delightful, for\nall that.\u201d\n\nShe had spoken carefully, like one feeling her way, and here she\nhesitated just for a breath, as though not sure whether she had better\ngo on, but went on nevertheless. \u201cHere every one is known, and his\nposition secure. He need not suffer in public esteem from adverse\ncircumstances, if they do not affect his character. There never was a\nplace, I think, where a truly courageous and manly act would be more\nheartily applauded.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! yes,\u201d the young man said, with hasty scorn; \u201cthey applaud while\nthe thing is new, and then forget all about it. They like novelty. I\ndon\u2019t doubt that all the people would clap their hands if I should take\nto sweeping the streets, and that for a week the young ladies would tie\nbouquets to the end of the broomstick. But after the week was over,\nwhat then? They would find me a dusty fellow whose acquaintance they\nwould gradually drop. Besides, their applause is not all. I might not\nenjoy street-sweeping, even though I and my broomstick were crowned\nwith flowers as long as we lasted.\u201d\n\nMiss Pembroke had blushed slightly at this sudden and violent\ninterpretation of her hidden meaning; but she answered quietly: \u201cNo:\ntheir applause is not all\u2014the applause of the world is never all, but\nit helps sometimes; and, if they give it to us for one moment when we\nstart on the right path, it is all that we ought to expect. Life is not\na theatre with a few actors and a great circle of spectators: we all\nhave our part to play, and cannot stop long to admire others.\u201d\n\n\u201cEspecially when that other is only the scene-shifter,\u201d laughed the\nyoung man, throwing the hair back from his face.\n\n\u201cI know well that ordinary, inelegant work would come very hard to you,\nLawrence,\u201d she said kindly; \u201cand, if it were to be continued to the end\nof your life, I might think it too hard. But there must be ways, for\nother men have found them, of beginning at the lower end of the ladder,\neven very low down, even in the dust, and climbing steadily to a height\nthat would satisfy the climber\u2019s ambition. It needs only a strong will\nand perseverance; and I firmly believe, Lawrence, that, to a strong\nwill, almost anything is possible.\u201d\n\n\u201cA strong will is a special gift,\u201d he replied stubbornly.\n\n\u201cYes; and one for which we may ask,\u201d she said; then, seeing that he\nfrowned, added: \u201cAnd for you I like Crichton, as I said. One is known\nhere, and motives and circumstances are understood. A thousand little\nhelps might be given which in a strange city you would not have. All\nwould be seen and understood here.\u201d\n\n\u201cAll would be seen, yes!\u201d he exclaimed, with a shrug and a frown. \u201cThat\nis the trouble. One would rather hide something.\u201d\n\nShe would not be repelled. \u201cThere is, of course, sometimes a\ndisadvantage in living where everything is known,\u201d she admitted. \u201cBut\nthere must be disadvantages everywhere in the world. Look at the bright\nside of it. If you were in a great city, where all sorts of crimes\nhide, where men the most abandoned in reality can for a long time\nmaintain a fair reputation before the world, how your difficulties\nwould be increased! You would not then know whom to trust. Here, on the\ncontrary, no wrong can remain long hidden.\u201d\n\nHe had not looked at her before, but at these words his eyes flashed\ninto her face a startled glance. Her eyes were looking thoughtfully\nover the town.\n\nFeeling his gaze, she turned towards him with a quick change of\nexpression and manner. A friendly and coaxing, almost caressing,\nraillery took the place of her seriousness: \u201cCome! drive away your\nblues, Lawrence, and take courage. Study out some course for yourself\nwhere you can see far ahead, and then start and follow it, though you\nshould find obstacles grow up in the way. Bore through them, or climb\nover them. There must be a way. There is something in you for honor,\nsomething better than complaining. Cheer up!\u201d\n\nShe extended her hand to him impulsively.\n\n\u201cWhat motive have I?\u201d he asked. But his face had softened, and a faint\nsmile showed that the cloud had a silver lining.\n\n\u201cFor your mother\u2019s sake,\u201d she said. \u201cHow happy she would be!\u201d\n\n\u201cI can make my mother happy by kissing her, and telling her she is an\nangel,\u201d he answered.\n\nIt was but too true.\n\n\u201cFor poor Annette, then. There is a good deal in her, and she is\ndevoted to you.\u201d\n\nHe shrugged his shoulders, and lifted his eyebrows: \u201cShe loves me as\nI am, and would love me if I were ten times as worthless, poor silly\ngirl!\u201d\n\nMiss Pembroke withdrew her hand, and retired a step from him. Again he\nhad spoken the truth, this spoiled favorite of women!\n\n\u201cFor God\u2019s sake, then.\u201d\n\nHe did not dare give another shrug, for his mentor\u2019s face was losing\nits kindness. \u201cYou know I am not at all pious, Honora,\u201d he said,\ndropping his eyes.\n\nShe still retained her patience: \u201cCan you find no motive in yourself,\nLawrence? Do you feel no necessity for action, for courageous trial of\nwhat life may hold for you?\u201d\n\nHis pale face grew bright with an eager light. \u201cIf life but held for me\none boon! O Honora....\u201d\n\nShe made a quick, silencing gesture, and a glance, inconceivably\nhaughty and scornful, shot from her eyes.\n\n\u201cAre you two people quarrelling?\u201d Miss Ferrier inquired, behind them.\n\u201cIf you are, I am in good time. Tea is ready, and I suppose the sooner\nwe are off, the better.\u201d\n\n\u201cI sent the flowers to the church,\u201d she continued, as they went in\nthrough the gorgeous hall, \u201cand directed John to tell Mother Chevreuse\nthat we should come down in about an hour. But he brings me word that\nshe is out with some sick woman, and may not come home till quite late.\nSo we are but three.\u201d\n\nMother Chevreuse was the priest\u2019s mother. It had grown to be a custom\nto give her that title, partly out of love for both mother and son,\npartly because Father Chevreuse himself sometimes called her so.\n\n\u201cIt will require one person to carry your train, Annette,\u201d Mr. Gerald\nsaid, looking at the length of rustling brown silk over which he had\ntwice stumbled. \u201cAnd that takes two out; for, of course, you can do\nnothing in that dress. Honora will have the pleasure of decorating the\naltar, while we look on.\u201d\n\nOnly the faintest shade of mortification passed momentarily over the\ngirl\u2019s face, and vanished. She knew well the power her wealth had with\nthis man, and that she could not make it too evident. Miss Ferrier was\nfrivolous and extravagant, but she was not without discernment.\n\n\u201cDid you ever know me to fail when I attempted anything?\u201d she asked,\nwith a little mingling of defiance and triumph in her air. \u201cHonora goes\ncalmly and steadily to work; but when I begin....\u201d\n\nShe stopped, embarrassed, for a rude speech had been at her lips.\n\n\u201cYou do twice as much as I,\u201d Miss Pembroke finished, with sweet\ncordiality. \u201cIt is true, Annette, though you did not like to say it.\nYou have great energy.\u201d\n\nShe put her hand out, and touched caressingly the shoulder of her young\nhostess in passing. \u201cYou are just what Lawrence needs.\u201d\n\nTears of pleasure filled Annette\u2019s eyes. For all her wealth and the\nflatteries it had brought her, she had seldom heard a word of earnest\ncommendation.\n\nTo be praised by Honora was sweet; but to be praised before Lawrence\nwas sweetest of all.\n\nThey hurried through their tea, and went to the church. Mother\nChevreuse had not returned home, and the priest also was away. The\npleasant task of adorning the altar of Our Lady was left to them.\n\nThe stars were beginning to show faintly in the sky when they commenced\ntheir work, and all the church was full of that clear yellow twilight.\nThe pillars and walls, snowy white, with only delicate bands of\ngilding, reflected the softened beams, and seemed to grow transparent\nin them. But around the side-altar burned a ring of brilliant gas-jets;\nand through the open door of the sacristy was visible, ruddily lighted,\na long passage and stairway leading to the basement.\n\nThe light of heaven and the light of earth were thus brought face to\nface\u2014the one pure, tender, and pervading, the other flaring, thick,\nand partial. But as daylight faded away, that inner light brought out\nstrange effects. There was no longer anything white in the church:\nit was all turned to rose-color and deep shadow. Carven faces looked\ndown with seeing eyes from arch, capital, and cornice; the pillars,\nstanding up and down in long rows, appeared to lean together, to move,\nand change places with each other; there was a tremor in the dimly-seen\norgan-pipes, as though the strong breath of music were passing through\nthem, and would presently break out in loud accord. A picture of S.\nJohn beside the grand altar showed nothing but the face, and the face\nwas as glowing as if it had just been lifted from the bosom of the Lord\nto look into the Lord\u2019s eyes.\n\nOne might fancy that this fair temple in which God had taken up his\ndwelling only waited for those three to go away, that it might break\ninto joy and adoration over its divine Guest.\n\nOn a pedestal at the gospel side of the altar stood the statue of Our\nLady, lovely eyelids downcast, as she gazed on those below, loving\nhands and arms outstretched, inviting all the world to her motherly\nembrace. An arch of white lilies had already been put up against a\nlarger arch of green that was to be set with candles and a crown of\nlight. They were now engaged in putting under the lilies a third and\nsmaller arch of Mayflowers, that the whole might be like the Lady it\nwas meant to honor\u2014radiant with glory, mantled in purity, and full of\ntender sweetness.\n\nAnnette had redeemed her promise of usefulness. Her long train was\npinned about her, leaving a white skirt with the hem close to her\nankles, and the flowing drapery of her sleeves was bound above the\nelbow, her arms being quite free. Mounted on the topmost step of an\nunsteady ladder, she fastened the higher flowers; lower down, at either\nside, Lawrence Gerald and Honora tied the lower ones. Not much was\nsaid, the few necessary words were lowly spoken; but they smiled now\nand then in each other\u2019s lighted faces.\n\nIt was ten o\u2019clock when they went out through the basement, leaving\na man to extinguish the gas and lock the door. On their way to the\nstreet, they passed the priest\u2019s house. Only one light was visible in\nit, and that shone in a wide-open stairway window. The light, with a\nshadow beside it, was approaching the window, and presently a man\u2019s\nhead and shoulders appeared above the high sill. Father Chevreuse had\nreturned home, and was going up to his chamber. He stopped, holding a\ncandle, and put out his right hand to close the window, but paused,\nhearing a step outside. \u201cWho\u2019s there?\u201d he asked authoritatively,\npeering out, but seeing nothing in the darkness.\n\n\u201cThree friends who are just going home,\u201d answered a voice.\n\n\u201cAnd who are the other two, Honora Pembroke?\u201d demanded the priest.\n\n\u201cAnnette and Lawrence. We have been arranging flowers for Our Lady.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s well. Good-night!\u201d\n\nHe pulled the sash down with a bang; but Honora, smiling in the dark,\nstill held her companions beneath the window. It opened again with\nanother bang.\n\n\u201cChildren!\u201d he called out.\n\n\u201cYes, father!\u201d\n\n\u201cGod bless you! Good-night!\u201d\n\nAgain the sash came down, more gently this time, and the light and the\nkind heart went on climbing up the stairway.\n\n\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t have slept well to-night if he had not said \u2018God bless\nyou!\u2019 to us,\u201d said Miss Pembroke. \u201cAnd I believe we shall sleep better\nfor it, too, God bless him!\u201d\n\nThey walked up the steep hillside from the lower part of the town\ntoward South Avenue. Half-way up the hill, on a cross-street that led\nout toward the country, was the cottage in which Lawrence Gerald lived\nwith his mother, his aunt, and Honora Pembroke. As they approached this\nroad, Annette Ferrier\u2019s heart fluttered. Lawrence had been very amiable\nthat evening. He had praised her, had twice smiled very kindly, and had\nput her shawl over her shoulders before they came out, as though he\nwere really afraid she might take cold. Perhaps he would leave Honora\nat home first, and then go up with her.\n\nWhat great good this would do her she could not have explained; for\nseldom had she heard from him a word too tender to be spoken before\nwitnesses. Still, she wished it. He might say something kind, or listen\nwillingly to some word of affection from her. At any rate, she would be\na little longer in his company.\n\nMiss Pembroke anticipated her wish, or had some other reason for\nmaking the proposal. \u201cJust go as far as the gate with me, and then you\ncan escort Annette,\u201d she said. \u201cYou will not mind a few extra steps,\nAnnette?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! come up with us,\u201d the young man interposed hastily. \u201cIt is a\nbeautiful night for walking, and I know you are not tired yet. You can\nbear twice the walking that Annette can.\u201d\n\nShe hesitated a moment, then went on with them. His request displeased\nher on more than one account: she did not like his indifference to the\ncompany of his promised wife, and she did not like his preference for\nbeing with herself. But his mother would be anxiously watching for him;\nand it would be something if he could be lured in at an early hour\nafter a quiet evening.\n\nDown in the black heart of the town, among the offices, was a certain\nback room where the windows were not so closely curtained but those who\nwatched outside could see a thread of light burning all night long. To\nthis room men went sometimes in the hope of mending their fortunes,\nor, after the demon of gambling had caught them fast, to taste of that\nfiery excitement which had now become to them a necessity. Honora more\nthan suspected that Lawrence Gerald\u2019s steps had sometimes turned in\nthere. A year or two before, in one of his good moods, he had confessed\nit to her, with an almost boyish contrition, and had promised never\nto go again. It was his last confession of the sort, but, she feared,\nnot his last sin. Of what worth were the promises of a weak, tempted\nman who never sought earnestly the help of God to strengthen his\nresolution? Of no more value than an anchor without a cable. Lawrence\nneeded to be watched and cared for; so she went on with them.\n\n\u201cI am so sorry to trouble you both,\u201d Miss Ferrier exclaimed, in a voice\ntrembling with anger and disappointment. \u201cI could have had John come\nfor me, if I had thought.\u201d She snatched her hand from the arm of her\nescort, and pulled her shawl about her with nervous twitches.\n\n\u201cIt would have been better to have had John,\u201d Honora said; \u201cfor he\ncould have gone home with me. I am the troublesome third, as it is. But\nthen,\u201d speaking lightly, \u201cif I am the last, Lawrence will be obliged to\ngo in early.\u201d\n\nWith another twitch of her shawl, Annette took her escort\u2019s arm again\nas abruptly as she had left it, and, held it closely.\n\nCareless as the last words had sounded, she knew their meaning, for\nthere had been something said on this subject before. She chose to take\nit defiantly now, and it comforted her to do so. Others might blame\nand doubt him, but she would not. He seemed nearer to her in the light\nof her superior devotedness than to any one else. She would never fail\nhim; and by-and-by he would know her worth. The glow of this fervent\nhope warmed the girl\u2019s chilled heart, and gave her a sort of happiness.\n\nAnd so they reached the house, and, after a quiet good-night, separated.\n\nThe walk back was passed in silence; and Miss Pembroke did not choose\nto lean on her companion\u2019s arm; she wished to hold her dress out of the\ndust.\n\nThe street they went through was one of those delightful old ones which\na city sometimes leaves untouched for a long time. Over-arching elms\ngrew thickly on either side, and the houses were all detached.\n\nMidway up this street stood the cottage of the Geralds, with a garden\nin front and at the back, and a narrow green at right and left. Three\nlong windows in front, lighting the parlor, reached almost to the\nground. The steep roof slanted to a veranda at each side, leaving but\none upper window over the three\u2014a wide window with casements swinging\nback from the middle. The cottage was in the shape of a cross, and at\none arm of it a lighted window shone out on the veranda.\n\nAt sound of the gate-latch, the curtain was drawn aside a little, and a\nwoman looked out an instant, then hastened to open the door.\n\n\u201cAre we late, Mrs. Gerald?\u201d Honora asked, and stepped forward into the\nsitting-room.\n\n\u201cOh! no, dear; I did not expect you any sooner.\u201d\n\nMrs. Gerald lingered in the doorway, looking back at her son as he\nstopped to leave his hat and overcoat in the entry, and only entered\nthe sitting-room when she had caught a glimpse of his face as he came\ntoward her. He was looking pleasant, she saw, and was contented with\nthat.\n\n\u201cWell, mother!\u201d he said, and sank indolently into the arm-chair she\npushed before the open fire for him. It was the only arm-chair in the\nroom.\n\nShe drew another chair forward, and seated herself beside him. Honora,\nsitting on a low stool in the corner, with the firelight shining over\nher, told what they had been doing that afternoon and evening. The son\nlistened, his eyes fixed on the fire; the mother listened, her eyes\nfixed on her son.\n\nMrs. Gerald was an Irish lady of good descent, well educated, and well\nmannered, and had seen better days. We do not call them better days\nbecause in her girlhood and early married life this lady had been\nwealthy, but because she had been the happy daughter of excellent\nparents, and the happy wife of a good man. All were gone now but this\nson; the husband dead for many a year, the daughters married and far\naway, the wealth melted from her like sunset gold from a cloud; but\nLawrence was left, and he filled her heart.\n\nOne could read this in her face as she watched him. It revealed the\npride of the mother in that beautiful manhood which she had given to\nthe world, and which was hers by an inalienable right that no one could\nusurp; and it revealed, too, the entire self-forgetfulness of the woman\nwho lives only in the life so dear to her. The face showed more yet;\nfor, hovering over this love and devotion as the mist of the coming\nstorm surrounds the full moon, and rings its softened brightness with a\ntremulous halo, one could detect even in the mother\u2019s smile the mist of\na foreboding sadness.\n\nHow ineffable and without hope is that sadness which is ever the\ncompanion of a too exclusive affection!\n\nHonora Pembroke looked at the two, and pain and indignation, and the\nnecessity for restraining any expression of either, swelled in her\nheart, painted her cheeks a deep red, and lifted her lids with a fuller\nand more scornful gaze than those soft eyes were wont to give. Where\nwas the courtesy which any man, not rudely insensible, should show\nto a lady? Where the grateful tenderness that any child, not cruelly\nungrateful, pays to a mother? This man could be gallant when he wished\nto make a favorable impression; and she had heard him make very pretty,\nif very senseless, speeches about chivalry and ideal characters, as\nif he knew what they were. He had even, in the early days of their\nacquaintance, maintained for a long time an irreproachable demeanor in\nher presence. She was learning a doubt and distrust of men, judging\nthem by this one, of whom she knew most. Were they often as selfish\nand insensible as he was? Were they incapable of being affected by any\nenchantment except that which is lent by a delusive distance? Here\nbeside him was an ideal affection, and he accepted it as he accepted\nair and sunshine\u2014it was a matter of course. The mother was in person\none who might satisfy even such a fastidious taste as his; for though\nthe face was thin and faded, and the hands marred by household labor,\nthere were still the remains of what had once been a striking beauty.\nMrs. Gerald carried her tall form with undiminished stateliness, her\ncoal-black hair had not a single thread of white among its thick\ntresses, and her deep-blue eyes had gained in tenderness what they\nhad lost in fire. To use one of Miss Pembroke\u2019s favorite expressions,\nit was not fitting that the son, after having passed a day without\nfatigue, should lounge at ease among cushions, while the mother, to\nwhom every evening brought weariness, should sit beside him in a chair\nof penitential hardness.\n\nBut even while she criticised him, he looked up from the fire, his face\nbrightening with a sudden pleasant recollection.\n\n\u201cO mother! I had almost forgotten,\u201d he said, and began searching in his\npockets for something. \u201cNeither you nor Honora mentioned it; but I keep\ncount, and I know that to-day your ladyship is five times ten years\nold.\u201d\n\nHe smiled with a boyish pleasure more beautiful than his beauty,\nand the little touch of self-satisfaction he betrayed was as far as\npossible from being disagreeable. He could not help knowing that he\nwas about to give delight, and cover himself with honor in the eyes of\nthese two women.\n\n\u201cNow, mother,\u201d opening a tiny morocco case, \u201cthis is the first ring\nI ever gave any woman. The one I gave Annette was only a diamond of\nyours reset, and so no gift of mine. But this your good-for-nothing son\nactually earned, and had made on purpose for you.\u201d\n\nHe drew from the case a broad gold ring that sparkled in the firelight\nas if set with diamonds, and, taking the trembling hand his mother had\nextended caressingly at his first words, slipped the circlet onto her\nfinger.\n\n\u201cI had no stone put in it, because I want you to wear it all the time,\u201d\nhe said. \u201cDoesn\u2019t it fit nicely?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear boy!\u201d Mrs. Gerald exclaimed, and could say no more; for tears\nthat she wished to restrain were choking her.\n\nA fiftieth birthday is not a joyful anniversary when there is no\none but one\u2019s self to remember that it has come. Just as the mother\nhad given up hope, and was making to herself excuses for his not\nremembering it, her son showed that it had been long in his thought.\nThe joy was as unexpected as it was sweet.\n\nWhen she said her prayers that night, Mrs. Gerald\u2019s clasped hands\npressed the dear gift close to her cheek; and no maiden saying her\nfirst prayer over her betrothal-ring ever felt a tenderer happiness or\nmore impassioned gratitude.\n\n\u201cDear Lawrence! it was so nice of you!\u201d whispered Honora, and gave him\nher hand as she wished him good-night.\n\nHe threw himself back in the arm-chair again when he was left alone,\nand for a few minutes had a very pleasant sense of being happy and the\ncause of happiness. \u201cWho would think that so much fun could be got out\nof a quiet evening spent in tying Mayflowers round a pole, and giving\na gold birthday ring to one\u2019s mother?\u201d he mused. \u201cAfter all, the good\npeople have the best of it, and we scape-graces are the ones to be\npitied. If I were rich, I should be all right. If I had even half a\nchance, I would ask no more. But the poverty!\u201d He glanced about the\nroom, then looked gloomily into the fire again.\n\nYes; poverty was there\u2014that depressing poverty which speaks of decayed\nfortunes. The carpet, from which the brilliant velvet pile was worn\nnearly off, the faded and mended covers of the carved chair-frames, the\nfew old-fashioned ornaments which had been retained when all that would\nsell well had gone to the auction-room, each showed by the scrupulous\ncare with which it had been preserved a poverty that clung to the rags\nof prosperity in the past because it saw no near hope of prosperity in\nthe future. Miles of unbroken forest could be seen from the cupolas of\nCrichton; yet in this room the very stick of wood that burned slowly\non the andirons was an extravagance which Mrs. Gerald would not have\nallowed herself.\n\n\u201cYes; the good ones have the best of it,\u201d the young man repeated,\nrousing himself.\n\nHe drew the andirons out, and let the unconsumed stick down into the\nashes, lighted a candle, and turned the gas off. Then, candle in hand,\nhe stood musing a moment longer, the clear light shining over his face,\nand showing an almost childlike smile coming sweetly to his lips.\n\u201cAfter all,\u201d he said softly, \u201cI haven\u2019t been a bad fellow to-night,\u201d\nand with that pleased smile still lingering on his face, went slowly\nout of the room.\n\nAnd so the stillness of night descended, and deep sleep brooded over\nthe town as the lights went out.\n\nCrichton was a well-governed city: no rude broils disturbed its hours\nof darkness. Decency was in power there, and made itself obeyed. You\nmight see a doctor\u2019s buggy whirl by, like a ghost of a carriage, its\nlight wheels faintly crunching the gravel; for only the business\nstreets were paved. Now and then, on still nights, might be heard the\ngrating of ropes, as some vessel sailed up to the wharf after a long\nocean voyage. Perhaps a woman in one of the houses on the hill above\nwould hear that sound through her dream, and start up to listen,\nfancying that, in the word of command the soft breeze bore to her\ncasement, she could detect a familiar voice long unheard and anxiously\nwaited for. Perhaps the sailor, whose swift keel had shot like an arrow\npast the heavy junk of Chinese waters, and scattered, as it approached\nthe shore, clear reflections of tufted palms and dusky natives\u2014perhaps\nhe looked eagerly up the hill to that spot which his eyes could find\nwithout aid of chart or compass, and saw suddenly twinkle out the lamp\nin the window of his home.\n\nBut except for such soft sounds and shadowy idyls, Crichton was at\nnight as still as sleep itself.\n\nThe Crichtonians had a pleasant saying that their city was built by a\nwoman, and the best compliment we can pay them is that they made this\nsaying proudly, and kept in honored remembrance the hand of the gentle\narchitect. But not so much in brick and stone was it acknowledged,\nthough they owed to her their first ideas of correct and symmetrical\nbuilding: in their society, high and low, in many of their pretty\ncustoms, in their tastes, in their freedom from bigotry of opinions,\neven in their government, they felt her influence.\n\nWhile the city lies sleeping under the stars, strong, adult, and\nbeautiful, full of ambitious dreams, full, too, of kind and generous\nfeeling, let us go back to the time when, an infant town, it began to\nuse its powers, and stammer brokenly the alphabet of civilization.\n\nHush, fair city, all thy many thousands, while the angels watch above\nthee! and, sweeter marvel yet! while the dear Lord waits unsleeping\nin thy midst, where that solitary taper burns. Sleep in peace, \u201cpoor\nexiled children of Eve,\u201d and be grateful at least in dreams.\n\nNot very long ago, this place was a wild forest, with a rude little\nsettlement hewn out of it on the river\u2019s banks. It was shut in from the\nworld, though the world was not far distant. But the river was broad\nand deep, the ocean only ten miles away, and within a few miles were\nlarge and growing cities. Soon the sound of the axe and the saw were\nheard, and little craft, sloops and schooners, floated down the Saranac\nladen with lumber till the water rippled close to the rails. The story\nof her growth in this regard is the story of a thousand other towns.\nThe vessels grew larger, their voyages longer, more houses were built,\nsome men became comparatively wealthy and gave employment to others,\nwhile the majority kept the level of the employed. Social distinctions\nbegan to show themselves, detestable ones for the most part, since\nthere was no social cultivation. Indeed, this poor settlement was in\na fair way to become the most odious of towns. The two meeting-houses\nbegan to be called churches by the aspiring; the leading woman of the\ntown ventured to call her help a servant (on which the indignant \u201chelp\u201d\nimmediately deserted her); and the first piano appeared. But let us\nmention this piano with respect, for it was the pioneer of harmony.\n\nWhen Crichton had about fifteen hundred inhabitants, a stranger came\nthere one day, as a passenger on board a bark returning from a distant\ncity. This bark was the chief vessel, and was owned by the three chief\nmen of Crichton. It had gone away laden with laths, and it brought back\ntea, coffee, sugar, and other foreign groceries; and, more than all, it\nbrought Mr. Seth Carpenter. He was not, apparently, a very remarkable\nman in any way, except as all strangers were remarkable in this young\ntown. He was plain-looking, rather freckled, and had a pair of small\nand very bright eyes which he almost closed, in a near-sighted way,\nwhen he wished to see well. Behind those eyes was a good deal of will\nand wit, and the will to put the wit into immediate practice. Moreover,\nhe knew how to hold his tongue very cleverly, and baffle the curious\nwithout offending them. Nothing but his name transpired. He might be a\nmountebank, a detective, a king\u2019s son\u2014how were these people to know?\n\nIn fact, he was nothing more mysterious than a respectable young man\ntwenty-five years of age, who, having his fortune to make, had thought\nbest to leave his prim, sober, native town, where nothing was being\ndone, and where the people were mummies, and seek what, in modern\nparlance, is called a \u201clive\u201d place. In his pockets he had nothing but\nhis hands; in his valise was a single change of linen.\n\nThe very morning of his arrival at Crichton, Mr. Seth Carpenter went\nto the highest hill-top, and from it viewed the town, the river, and\nthe receding forests. He then strolled down to the river, and looked\nthrough the mills, and from there sauntered to the ship-yard, where\nhe found a ship on the stocks, almost ready to be launched. He walked\nround the yard, whistling softly, with an air of critical indifference.\nHe paused near two other men who were viewing the ship, and, since\ntheir conference was not private, listened to it.\n\nOne of these men, a sailor, rather thought he might make up his mind to\nbuy that ship. Did his companion know what was likely to be asked for\nit? The other reckoned, and calculated, and guessed, and expected, and\nfinally owned that he did not know.\n\nMr. Carpenter, his eyes winking fast with the sparks that came into\nthem, and his fingers working nervously, walked out of the yard, and\nfound the owner of the ship, and, still with nothing in his pockets but\nhis hands, made his bargain with all the coolness of a millionaire.\nBefore sunset, the ship was nominally his; and, before sunrise, it had\nchanged owners again, and the young adventurer had made five hundred\ndollars by the bargain.\n\n\u201cI will yet rule the town!\u201d he said exultingly, when he found himself\nalone; and he kept his word. Everything prospered with him, and in a\nshort time even rivalry ceased. Men who had been proud to add dollar\nto dollar shrank and bowed before this man who added thousand to unit.\nHalf the men in town, after ten years, were in his employment, and\nbusiness prospered as he prospered. In another ten years, Crichton was\na city, with all barriers down between her and the great world; but\na raw, unkempt city; jealous, superficially educated, quarrelsome,\npretentious, and rapidly crystallizing into that mould. Only a\nperson of supreme position and character could now change it. Mr.\nCarpenter had the position, but not the character. He thought only\nof money-making, and of the excitement of enterprise and power; the\nrest he viewed with a pleasant indifference not without contempt. At\nforty-five he was still a bachelor.\n\nWe have mentioned the first piano with respect, because others followed\nin its train, rendering a music-teacher necessary; so that, after a\nsuccession of tyros, Miss Agnes Weston came, bringing the very spirit\nof harmony with her into the town she was to conquer.\n\nShe did not come as a conqueror, however; nor probably did she\nanticipate the part she was to play any more than the Crichtonians\ndid. She came to earn her bread, and, while doing so, was anything but\npopular. Nothing but her brilliant musical abilities, and the fact that\nshe had been educated at Leipsic, saved her from utter failure. People\ndid not fancy this self-possessed, unpretending young person, who could\nsometimes show such a haughty front to the presuming, and who was,\nmoreover, so frightfully dark and sallow. They did not understand her,\nand preferred to leave her very much to herself.\n\nOne person only found her not a puzzle. To Mr. Carpenter she was simply\na refined woman among uncongenial associates; becoming discontented\nand unhappy there, too, before many months had passed. He did not\nchoose that she should go away. He had become pleasantly accustomed to\nseeing her, had sometimes met her on her long walks out of town; and\nonce, when he had politely offered to drive her home\u2014an offer which\nany other lady in Crichton would have accepted beamingly, without the\npreliminary of an introduction\u2014had been refreshed by receiving a cold\nrefusal, and a surprised stare from a pair of large black eyes. The\ngreat man, surfeited with smiles and flatteries, was immensely pleased\nby this superciliousness.\n\nBut though strangely disturbed at the prospect of Miss Weston\u2019s\nleaving, he hesitated to speak the word which might detain her. A\nbachelor of forty-five does not readily determine on making a sensible\nmarriage; it usually needs some great folly to spur him on to a change\nso long deferred. He had, moreover, two other reasons for delaying: he\nwanted a charming wife, and was in doubt whether even his power could\ntransform this lady into his ideal: the other reason had blue eyes, and\na dimple in its chin, and was a very silly reason.\n\nBut no one who knew this gentleman would expect him to remain long in\ndoubt on any subject. Within a month from the day he first entertained\nthe thought of running such a risk, Crichton was electrified by the\nannouncement that Mr. Carpenter was soon to be married to Miss Weston;\nand, before they had recovered from their first astonishment, the\nmarriage had taken place, and the quiet, dark-faced music-teacher was\nestablished as mistress of an imposing mansion on North Avenue.\n\nIt was now Mr. Carpenter\u2019s turn to be astonished, and he was enchanted\nas well. Never had he pictured to himself a woman so charming as\nthis grub, now become a butterfly, proved herself; and never had he\nimagined that even his wife could obtain so beautiful a supremacy as\nshe gradually established and never lost. She was born to rule, and\nseldom had such power been placed in any woman\u2019s hands. Mr. Carpenter\nwas the first of her vassals. With a refined and noble arrogance, she\nesteemed him as the first man in the world, because he had been the\nfirst to appreciate and exalt her. For this she gave him a faithful,\nif condescending, affection, and quoted his wishes and opinions so\nconstantly that one might have thought they were her only guides. So\nthorough was her tact and her courtesy toward her husband he scarcely\nguessed his own inferiority, and never dreamed that she was aware of it.\n\nShe grew beautiful, too, as well as amiable. Now that the drudgery of\ntoil was lifted from her, and her cramped talents had room for full\nand exhilarating play, the swarthy skin cleared, showing a peach-like\nbloom, the fine teeth lit a frequent smile, and the deep voice lost its\ndull cadence, and took a musical, ringing sound.\n\nMrs. Carpenter used her power well. Crichton was as clay in her hands,\nand she moulded it after a noble model. What arrogance could never\nhave done was accomplished by tact and sweetness. Her forming touch\nwas strong and steady, but it was smooth, and nothing escaped it.\nThoroughly womanly, speaking by her husband\u2019s mouth when she deemed it\nnot fitting that her proper voice should be heard, she could influence\nin matters where women do not usually care to interfere. She thought\nnothing out of her province which concerned the prosperity of the town\nshe honored with her presence, and she inspired others with her own\nenthusiasm. That streets should be wide and well kept, that public\nbuildings should be architecturally symmetrical, that neat cottages for\nthe poor, replacing their miserable huts, should start up sudden as\ndaisies along some quiet road\u2014these objects all interested her, though\nshe worked for them indirectly.\n\nBut in social life she ruled openly; and there her good sense and good\nheart, her gentle gaiety and entire uprightness, became the mould of\nform. Ill-nature went out of fashion, and, in the absence of charity,\nself-control became a necessity. When people of opposite creeds met at\nher house, their feuds had to be laid aside for the time; and, once two\nfoes have smiled in each other\u2019s faces, the frown is not so easy to\nrecall.\n\nGradually the change which had been imposed outwardly became a real\none; and, when Mrs. Carpenter died, full of years and of honors, her\nspirit continued to animate the place, in its opinions and actions, at\nleast, if some fairer grace of heart and principle were wanting. She\ndied as she had lived, out of the church; though the church had ever\nfound her a friend, bountiful and tenderly protecting. Of its doctrines\nand authority she seemed never to have thought; but the copy of the\nSistine Madonna in her drawing-room had always a vase of fresh flowers\nbefore it.\n\nShe left no children. A niece whom she had adopted married in\nCrichton, and had one descendant, a grand-daughter, living there. This\ngrand-daughter was Honora Pembroke.\n\nWake again, Crichton, for morning is come. Long rays of golden light\nare shooting out of the east; and down the hillside, in the church of\nS. John, Father Chevreuse is saying, _Sursum Corda_!\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nFONTAINEBLEAU.\n\nCONCLUDED.\n\nCHARLES had a dangerous enemy in the person of the Duchesse d\u2019Estampes.\nShe was furious at his being allowed to enter France at all, and still\nmore at his leaving it without paying such a ransom as his host might\neasily have enforced; but to all her arguments and blandishments\nFrancis was nobly inexorable; he remained true, in this instance at\nleast, to the instincts of his better nature and the promptings of\nknightly honor. He could not, however, resist saying to Charles, when\npresenting the duchess to him: \u201cHere is a lady who advises me to undo\nat Paris the work done at Madrid.\u201d To which the emperor replied coldly:\n\u201cIf the advice be good, you ought to follow it.\u201d The story goes\u2014a\nmost improbable one, considering the position occupied by the Duchesse\nd\u2019Estampes, whose jewels were worthy of a queen of France\u2014that at\nsupper that same evening, when, according to the complimentary custom\nof the times, she presented Charles with the urn of perfumed water\nto rinse his hands, he dropped a diamond ring at her feet, and, on\nher picking it up and handing it to him, replied: \u201cKeep it, madame;\nit could not be in fitter hands.\u201d Whether Charles bribed the _belle\nsavante_ with a diamond or any other device, it is certain that, before\nhe left, they had become very good friends, and she had quite adopted\nthe king\u2019s more generous view of the case.\n\nAt the close of 1546, Francis fell ill, and was supposed to be dying.\nThe courtiers, true to the traditions of their race, immediately fled\nfrom Fontainebleau to greet the Dauphin, who was at Amboise. Francis\nwas conscious enough to notice their disappearance, and to divine\nthe cause of it. It stung him to the quick, and roused him to make a\ndesperate effort to disappoint them. He rallied, and announced his\nintention of following the procession of _Corpus Christi_ next day.\nThe doctors remonstrated, but in vain; nothing could shake the king\u2019s\ndetermination. He dressed himself in his robes of state, had his pale\ncheeks brightened with rouge, and thus, under a mask of returning\nhealth, appeared in the midst of his astonished court, and held the\ncanopy during the procession. But the ceremony was no sooner over than\nhe fell exhausted into the arms of his attendants, and was carried\nback to bed. He remained for some time unconscious; on recovering his\nsenses, his first exclamation was, \u201cWell, at any rate, I will give them\none more fright!\u201d Four months after this childish piece of bravado, he\ndied at the Ch\u00e2teau of Rambouillet.\n\nThe forest of Fontainebleau was infested during his reign with a\nquantity of noxious vermin\u2014serpents eighteen feet in length, which\ndid great damage, and filled the inhabitants with terror. One of these\nsnakes, by his depredations on man and beast, earned the reputation\nfor himself of a sort of mythological dragon. Some bold men had\nundertaken to combat him, but all had perished in the attempt. Francis\ndeclared at last that he would fight and kill the dragon himself. He\nequipped himself accordingly in a suit of armor covered all over with\nlong blades as sharp as razors, and, thus armed, sallied forth to the\nperilous duel. The serpent coiled itself round the glistening blades,\nand, in clasping his victim, cut himself to pieces. This fantastic\nexploit of Francis was magnified by the adulation of his courtiers into\na deed of supernatural prowess.\n\nThe death of Francis was the signal for the downfall of the Duchesse\nd\u2019Estampes, who retreated like a dethroned sovereign before the now\ntranscendent star of Diana of Poitiers. Diana\u2019s frailty was unredeemed\nby the intellectual gifts and native kindliness that distinguished\nher rival. There is no counterpart even in French history to the\nsway exercised by this Dalila over Henri II. Madame Du Barry\u2019s is\nthe nearest approach to it, but even that falls far short of the\nprecedent. Diana not only ruled the king and the kingdom, but openly\nusurped the honors, prerogatives, and official state of a legitimate\nqueen. Her cipher, interlaced with Henri\u2019s, was carved and emblazoned\non all the public monuments; not a door or gallery of Fontainebleau,\naptly nicknamed by the people \u201cthe Temple of Diana,\u201d that was not\nsurmounted by the monogram H. D. It was to be seen in the stained glass\nwindows of the chapel, as well as on the plate served on the royal\ntable under the eyes of Catherine de Medicis. Diana appropriated the\ncrown jewels, and appeared at all the public ceremonies decked in the\nhitherto sacred regalia of the queens of France. Catherine looked on\nand was silent\u2014she could wait; her hour would come. It came sooner\nthan either she or Diana anticipated. The king fell mortally wounded\nin a tournament given to celebrate the nuptials of his daughter, the\nPrincesse Elizabeth, with the King of Spain (1559). He was carried to\nthe nearest shelter; Catherine flew to his side, and gave orders that\nno one should be allowed to approach him; at this crisis, at least, the\nwife should be supreme. Diana soon presented herself at the door, but\nthe guard refused her admittance; the queen had forbidden it. \u201cAnd who\ndares to give me orders?\u201d demanded Diana, with flashing eyes; \u201cif the\nking breathes, I have no master yet.\u201d Soon he had ceased to breathe,\nand Diana, without further protest, bowed to the queen\u2019s command, which\nbade her \u201crestore the crown jewels, and retire forthwith to her Ch\u00e2teau\nd\u2019Anet.\u201d\n\nHer beauty was marvellous, and lasted in all its bloom long after\nthe meridian of life was past. Brant\u00f4me describes her at the age of\nsixty-five as \u201cstill beautiful as a girl.\u201d The death of Henri II.\nwas the signal for Catherine de Medicis\u2019 real queenhood. Her reign\nlasted over thirty years, and may be justly styled, in the most\ncomprehensive sense of the word, a reign of terror for the nation. Her\nfirst business was to create discord in the family as a prelude to\ncivil war in the state. She imported into France, with the enlightened\nlove of the arts imbibed at the court of the Medicis, their crafty\nItalian policy; a system of cabal and intrigue which worked well\nenough in the narrow compass of petty states, but was fruitful of\nthe most disastrous results in a large kingdom where government can\nonly be carried on successfully by well-organized institutions and\nstrong and wise laws justly administered. Catherine was born with a\ngenius for intrigue; her love for conspiracy amounted to a mania. The\nfaculty of dissembling, with which nature had so pre-eminently endowed\nher, did her good service in the first years of her residence at\nFontainebleau. It required all the tact of an accomplished dissembler\nto steer between the rival powers of the Duchesse d\u2019Estampes and Diana\nof Poitiers\u2014a feat which the wily pupil of the Medicis achieved\nwith singular success. To the last day of their reign and her own\nthraldom, she contrived to remain friendly with both. Catherine\u2019s\nambition was unbounded, and drove her to excesses of wickedness that\nhave few parallels in modern history. She systematically labored to\ncorrupt the minds and hearts of her children, and to sow dissensions\namongst them, so as to draw the power that should have been theirs\ninto her own hands. Jealousy of one son, Francis II., drove her to\nespouse the cause of the Huguenots for a time; and, when his death\nplaced the sceptre in the hands of his brother Charles IX., she veered\nround, and persecuted her quondam _prot\u00e9g\u00e9s_ with cold cynicism and\nferocity. Five civil wars can be traced home to the dark intrigues of\nthis unnatural mother\u2014a woman who never took a straight road when she\ncould find a crooked one, who regarded human beings as an apparatus\ncomposed of an infinite variety of tools to be used one set against\nanother as the special nature of her work demanded. The massacre of\nS. Bartholomew was but another manifestation of the same spirit which\nhad led her to stir up the Huguenots to revolt when she thought their\nrebellion would serve her aims. This sanguinary despot had most of\nthe foibles of a woman, combined with the fiercer passions of a man.\nHer frivolity and extravagance knew no bounds; and when her ministers\nventured to hint to her that the lavish prodigality of her expenditure\nwas exasperating the people, and might lead to trouble, she shrugged\nher shoulders, and replied, with serene simplicity: \u201cGood heavens!\none must live.\u201d The sweet, pathetic face of Marie Stuart appears for\na moment at Fontainebleau in the earlier days of Catherine\u2019s rule\u2014a\nbright meteor flashing on a troubled sky; poor Marie, whose sky was\ngathering up the storm that was to break at no distant day over her\nyoung life, and beat it some twenty years with a fury that was only to\nbe silenced by the great tranquillizer\u2014death. Fierce and long-raging\nwere the storms that swept over Fontainebleau through the same\ndarkling years. Henri de Navarre bears down on it like a whirlwind,\nand forces the queen, with her son Charles IX., to fly before him and\nhis Huguenots to Melun. They have not taken breath at Melun when the\nDuc de Guise meets them like a contrary wind, and blows them back to\nParis. Soon follows the night of S. Bartholomew, that blackest of\nblack nights, under whose pall, as it has been pithily put by a modern\nFrenchman, \u201ca few scoundrels killed a few scoundrels.\u201d Its gloom was\nstill hanging over the city when Catherine and the king were bowling\nalong the road to Fontainebleau\u2014he shuddering, a Macbeth terrified at\nhis share in the ghastly deed; she triumphant, unappalled by ghost or\nconscience, her sharp, elastic mind busy on the next step to be taken.\nHow was she to undo the one awkward consequence of her triumph\u2014the\nremorse and mistrust of this faint-hearted son? A hundred and fifty\nmaids, miscalled of honor, were recruited from the beauty of France,\nand brought to Fontainebleau to aid in the task of soothing the king\u2019s\nscruples and mending the queen\u2019s nets. But her hold upon Charles\nwas loosened, and not all the charms of all the houris of Mahomet\u2019s\nparadise would lure it to her grasp again. Catherine, however, could\naccommodate herself to the decrees of fortune, and turn even her own\nblunders to account. Charles, obdurately sullen, refused to revoke the\nedict of the pacification of Amboise, thus quenching for once, instead\nof lighting, the smouldering flames of civil war. Catherine smiled\nbland approval on her blighted schemes, and was full of satisfaction,\nas if, instead of chaining the war-dogs, she had been allowed to let\nthem loose. She received the ambassadors in regal state, and laid\nherself out to captivate all men by her smiles and honeyed courtesies;\nfeuds and jealousies were lulled to sleep with soft music of delight;\nall the heads of all the factions, civil and religious, turned in the\ndance till they were giddy, carousing, and embracing, and pledging one\nanother in loving cups, while their followers were cutting each other\u2019s\nthroats hard by; fireworks sent rockets blazing to the sky\u2014merry\nrockets, red, white, and green; and Fontainebleau was once more a\npalace of Armida, an Arabian night\u2019s dream, where men came and drank,\nand were inebriated. A dark and agitated scene is that which France\npresents at the close of Catherine\u2019s reign. We turn from it with relief\nto see Henri de Navarre enter his \u201cgood city\u201d of Paris. After the\npeace of Vervins, which put an end to religious wars in France, and\nallowed Europe to breathe once more, the gay B\u00e9arnais came to enjoy his\nwell-won conquest at Fontainebleau. Sully, the true and trusty friend,\ngoes with him, supreme, though not alone, in his influence with the\nsoft-hearted monarch. Gabrielle d\u2019Estr\u00e9e contests the field with him;\nbut, to Henri\u2019s honor be it said, she is defeated. Gabrielle had, in a\nweak moment, extracted from the king a promise that he would make her\nQueen of France\u2014a promise which, as a matter of course, he immediately\nconfided to Sully. The minister burst out into indignant protest, and\noutswore the B\u00e9arnese himself in the vehemence of his indignation. They\nparted, as usual, in a rage, and, as usual, Henri soon calmed down, and\ndeclared that Sully was right. When Gabrielle recurred to the promise,\nhe told her the result of his conversation with \u201cmy friend Rosny.\u201d\nThe lady flew into a tantrum, called Rosny hard names, and wound up\nby insisting that \u201cthat valet\u201d should be dismissed from the court.\nThe insolent appellation, coming from such a quarter, roused the king\nto a sense of his own disgraceful weakness. \u201cVentre S. Gris, madame,\u201d\nhe cried, \u201cif I must needs dismiss either, it shall be you a thousand\ntimes rather than my faithful Rosny\u2014my friend without whom I could\nnot live!\u201d Gabrielle saw that she had overstepped the mark; for Henri,\nif he had the faults of a man, was no emasculated puppet, like so many\nof his predecessors, to be bound hand and foot by a Dalila; he had\nstill the spirit of a king. Gabrielle fell at his feet, and begged his\npardon, and Sully\u2019s too. Shortly after this incident, Sully\u2019s fears on\nher account were put an end to by her death. Henri\u2019s grief for a time\nwas so violent as almost to deprive him of his reason. But his fickle\nheart soon found consolation in a new allegiance. Mlle. d\u2019Entragnes was\nthe next to captivate it. For this fair siren, Henri went so far as to\ndraw out a written promise of marriage. Before, however, giving the\ndocument into the hands of the fair lady, he, of course, showed it to\nSully, the dauntless Sully, who was the most discreet of confidants,\nbut the most unmanageable of accomplices. This time he was too deeply\nmoved for anger; he did not bully the king, but coolly read the paper\ntwice over, and then, tearing it deliberately into four fragments, he\nflung it into the fire. \u201c_Parbleu_, Rosny, you are mad!\u201d cried the\nking. \u201cWould to God, sire, I were the only madman in France!\u201d replied\nRosny. Henri turned on his heel, and there was no more said about\nthat marriage. He married finally Marie de Medicis. She gave birth to\nthe Dauphin Louis XIII. at Fontainebleau. Henri\u2019s joy was unbounded.\nHe made his wife a present on the occasion of the Ch\u00e2teau of Monceau\nwith its beautiful park and grounds, which had formerly been a gift to\nGabrielle d\u2019Estr\u00e9e. Marie de Medicis was blest with wonderfully robust\nhealth\u2014a fact which her husband comments upon rather quaintly in a\nletter to Sully ten days after the birth of the Dauphin. \u201cMy wife,\u201d\nhe says, \u201cdresses her own hair, and talks already of getting up; my\nfriend, she has a terribly robust constitution!\u201d Sad pity that anything\nshould spoil the attractive beauty of Henri IV.\u2019s portrait as it hangs\nbefore us in the long gallery of royal sitters at Fontainebleau; but,\nalas! there it is, the black blot on the bright disk, the treacherous\nbreach of hospitality perpetrated in his name toward an old companion\nand brother-in-arms. There is abundant proof that the arrest of\nMar\u00e9chal de Biron and his death were repugnant and painful to the king,\nand that for some days he combated both by every means in his power,\nstooping to tears and passionate entreaty with Biron, and pleading\neloquently in his behalf with his own ministers; and that it was only\nafter all his efforts had failed to convince the latter, or to wring\nfrom Biron\u2019s stubborn pride the confession which could have saved him,\nthat Henri\u2019s signature was obtained for the death-warrant. This no\ndoubt absolves him from the odium of a cold-blooded, premeditated act\nof vengeance; but it is a poor apology to say that he only consented\nto invite his old brother-in-arms to Fontainebleau, and let him be\narrested in a dark corridor at nightfall, and taken to prison, and\neventually put to death, because he was overruled and circumvented by\nthe iron will of his wife Marie with the \u201cterribly robust constitution.\u201d\n\nThe gardens of Fontainebleau are full of delicate and poetic memories\nof Henri de Navarre in which Rosny plays a prominent part. The\ncourtiers looked on at the familiar, schoolboy friendship between the\nking and his minister with envious eyes, and set to work with malignant\ndiligence to loosen the bond. They succeeded in getting up such a\nplausible story against Rosny that the king, who had been some time\nwithout seeing him, was staggered; he examined the deed of accusation,\nand admitted that the circumstances looked badly. The minister was\nin Paris working away for his master as hard as any galley-slave at\nthe arsenal. Henri sent for him. When he arrived, the king was on\nthe terrace surrounded by the court; he greeted his friend with a\ngracious formality foreign to the habitual free and easy manner of\ntheir intercourse. Sully was pained and mystified. But the restraint\nwas equally intolerable to both. Henri called him aside presently,\nand they walked up and down an alley in sight of the terrace, but out\nof ear-shot. The king pulled out the deed of accusation, and handed\nit to his friend. Rosny cast his eye contemptuously over the paper,\nand in a few words scattered all its contents to the winds. Henri saw\nthat he had been the dupe of a base, designing jealousy, and broke\nout into bitter self-reproach at having been led to doubt even for a\nmoment the fidelity of his tried and faithful servant. He held out his\nhand; Sully, overcome with emotion, was about to fall on his knees to\nkiss it; but, quick as lightning, the king caught him in his arms,\nexclaiming: \u201cTake care, Rosny! Those fellows yonder will fancy I am\nforgiving you.\u201d\n\nThe visit of the Spanish ambassador to Fontainebleau led to the\nconstruction of the large and handsome Chapel of the Trinity. After\ngoing all over the interminable galleries and halls of the vast\nedifice, they came to the chapel. It was very pretty, but quite out\nof keeping with the space and splendor of the rest of the building.\nDon Pedro\u2019s minister was scandalized at the irreverence implied in\nthe contrast, and, with the impulse of a Spaniard, exclaimed, looking\nround at the narrow walls of the little sanctuary: \u201cYour house would\nbe perfect, sire, if God were as well lodged in it as the king.\u201d Henri\nwas pleased with the outspoken rebuke, and at once set about building a\ntemple worthier of the divine worship.\n\nHis ungovernable passion for the chase was a frequent cause of\naltercation between himself and Sully, who shared his master\u2019s love for\nthe sport, but, unlike him, knew where to stop in the indulgence of it.\nThe title of _Grand Veneur_,[127] attached to the office of master of\nthe royal hounds, dates from Henri\u2019s time, and takes its rise from a\nphantom which made its appearance in the forest in the shape of a man\nlarger than life, dressed in black, and surrounded by a pack of hounds,\nand who vanished as soon as the spectator tried to approach him. Sully\nhad long laughed at the story of this spectre, but, once coming to meet\nthe king, he came face to face himself with the _grand veneur_; he\nowned to the fact, but was still sceptical, though unable in any way to\nexplain away the mysterious apparition, which he took great pains to do.\n\nLouis XIII. resided much at Fontainebleau, and continued the work of\nembellishment, which needed little now to make it perfect. Anne of\nAustria enriched the new chapel with many valuable paintings. For a\nperiod, Richelieu is the presiding genius of the grand old palace. Then\nhe passes away, and makes room for Mazarin, who received here Henrietta\nof England with a splendor becoming her double majesty of misfortune\nand royalty.\n\nThe first time that Louis XIV. honored the palace with his presence was\non the occasion of signing the marriage contract between Ladislas of\nPoland and Marie de Gonzagne (1645); the marriage itself was celebrated\nat the Palais Royal.\n\nChristina of Sweden furnishes one of the most thrilling chapters in\nthe history of Fontainebleau. This eccentric woman, whose ambition it\nwas to entwine the laurels of Sappho with the jewels of her crown,\ngave up the throne of Sweden to wander about the world like an Arab.\nThat sort of eccentricity being rarer in those days than in our own,\nit passed for genius, wisdom, anything the owner chose to call it.\nChristina gained the reputation of possessing extraordinary erudition,\nand a mind gifted with the powers of a man, as well as adorned with\nthe graces of an accomplished woman. Anne of Austria was filled with\nadmiration for the queen who cast away a crown to go in pursuit of\nscience and philosophy; and, when Christina announced her intention\nof visiting France, the regent made preparations to receive her which\nsurpassed anything that Fontainebleau had witnessed since the reception\nof Charles V. by Francis I. Christina made her entry on horseback,\nsurrounded by a guard of honor composed of the highest nobles of the\nkingdom, all magnificently attired, and followed by a _cort\u00e9ge_ of\nnoble dames, some riding on horses caparisoned in housings of cloth\nof gold and silver, others drawn in chariots of state. The _f\u00eates_\ngiven for the royal Sappho\u2019s entertainment were on a scale equal\nto the splendor of this reception. She showed her sense of Anne of\nAustria\u2019s appreciation of her superior merits by making herself very\nagreeable to her; but she earned the dislike of the young king by\nridiculing openly his boyish love for Marie Mancini, and pointing\nan epigram at the fair Italian. Lo, when, on her return from Italy,\nshe intimated her intention of again coming to France, Louis sent\nword that he placed the Palace of Fontainebleau at her disposal, but\nbegged she would not show herself in Paris. During this second visit,\nChristina committed the crime which has so irretrievably damned her\nmemory. Monaldeschi, who had been her pampered favorite for years,\nrightly or wrongly incurred her displeasure. Christina determined that\nhe should die, and did not pause to consider that it was adding a\ndarker hue to her crime to perpetrate it under the roof of a brother\nking. The hour suited her vengeance\u2014that was enough. The whole thing\nwas planned with a business-like coolness worthy of Louis XI. in his\nbest days. The queen ordered her victim to be taken to the _galerie\ndes cerfs_, and herself gave the most minute instructions as to how\nhe was to be killed, and by whom: he was not to be despatched by one\nor even a few successive blows, but struck a great many times and at\nshort intervals, in hopes of extracting certain avowals from him.\nChristina then retired to an adjoining room, and remained in animated\nconversation with her _entourage_ while the horrible tragedy was going\non close by. Occasionally she sent in to ask if Monaldeschi were dead;\nwhen the answer again and again came back that he was still struggling,\nshe expressed first surprise, and then impatience, and at last, unable\nto brook the delay, she rose and opened the door of the gallery;\nMonaldeschi, on beholding her, stretched out his arms in an attitude\nof supplication, but the queen exclaimed sharply, \u201cWhat! thou art not\nyet dead?\u201d and, walking up to where he lay writhing on the ground,\nshe slapped him on the face \u201cwith that hand,\u201d says Voltaire, \u201cwhich\nhad loaded him with benefits.\u201d Monaldeschi had cried out for a priest\nto help him to die, and this last grace had been granted. Christina\nstood by till her victim was dead, and then quietly paid the assassins,\nand went back to her conversation. The news of the abominable deed of\nblood travelled quickly to Paris; as soon as Mazarin heard it, he sent\nher a peremptory order to leave Fontainebleau and France forthwith,\nadding that the King of France harbored no assassins as his guests; to\nwhich Christina returned the contemptuous reply that \u201cshe was queen\nwherever she was, and took no orders from the King of France, and\nwas accountable for her acts neither to him nor any one else.\u201d It is\ncurious to observe how little horror seems to have been produced in the\npublic mind by this execrable murder, committed under circumstances\nwhich rendered it tenfold more revolting; the ladies and courtiers of\nthe time make no more than a passing mention of it in their letters,\nand, in speaking of Christina, reserve their sharpest criticism for\nher style of dressing her hair and her manner of dancing, which they\ncondemn as \u201cfantastic and awkward.\u201d Two years after this event, we find\nChristina abjectly begging for an invitation to the carnival ballet\nin which Louis XIV. was to dance! The fact of the invitation being\ngranted is perhaps as significant as that of its being asked for. It\nwas accompanied, however, with the condition that the Queen of Sweden\nshould only remain in Paris the three days that the ballet lasted; this\nshe agreed to, and Mazarin\u2019s apartments at the Louvre were placed at\nher disposal.\n\nLouis XIV. restored Catherine de Medicis\u2019 pavilion at Fontainebleau,\ncalled the _Pavillon des Po\u00eales_,[128] for Mary of Modena, and fitted\nit up in a style of elegance and splendor befitting rather a royal\nbride of France than an exiled queen. But all his graceful gallantry to\nthe beautiful exile, and professions of brotherly love to her husband,\ndid not prevent Louis from signing in 1698 the treaty whereby he\npledged himself to recognize the Prince of Orange, and not to disturb\nhim in the possession of his kingdom.\n\nLouis XV. was married in the chapel at Fontainebleau to Marie Leczinska\n(1725). He never cared for the palace as a residence, and merely used\nit as a hunting-lodge. His first-born son died there. Shortly before\nhis death, the young prince, leaning over a balcony from one of the\nupper rooms of the palace which looked towards Paris, was heard saying\nto himself with a deep-drawn sigh: \u201cWhat delight the sovereign must\nfeel who makes the happiness of so many men!\u201d A great deal has been\nbuilt on this exclamation\u2014regrets for the blighted promise which\nthe feeling that prompted it held out to France. But twenty years\nbefore, Louis XV. had said as much, and felt it, very likely, just as\nsincerely. Fontainebleau was spared the shame of the saturnalian orgies\nthat profaned Versailles and Trianon under the reign of Du Barry. The\ngrim towers that had sheltered Francis, and the Medicis, and Henry\nde Navarre had many tales to tell that were better left untold, but\nat their worst they showed white beside the vulgar blackness of the\nPompadour and Du Barry chronicles.\n\nLouis XVI., who seldom visited Fontainebleau, has left no mark\nof his passages there. Under the Revolution, it was used as the\nmilitary school which has since been transferred to St. Cyr. Napoleon\ncompensated the royal old ch\u00e2teau for the neglect of his predecessors;\nhe preferred it, next to St. Cloud, to all the other palaces of which\nFrance had given him temporary possession, and repaired it with\nelaborate magnificence, adhering rigidly to the original style in\nevery detail. He also added a stirring chapter to its history. When,\nby his orders, General Radet scaled the walls of the Quirinal at three\no\u2019clock in the morning, and, attended by a band of soldiers, brutally\ndragged Pius VII. from his bed, it was to Fontainebleau that the\nvenerable pontiff was conveyed; here he was kept in close confinement,\nand fed upon the bread of insult, with which it was Napoleon\u2019s wont to\nnourish his captives; but Pius VII., disarmed, isolated from friends\nand counsellors, surrounded by spies paid to interpret his every word\nand gesture according to the interests and wishes of their paymaster,\nbroken in bodily health, his mind bending under the accumulated weight\nof every torture that ingenious cruelty could devise, was still a\ngreater conqueror, in the noblest sense of the word, than Napoleon ever\nwas on the field of battle. Moreover, a day of reckoning was at hand.\nFontainebleau, which had been the theatre of so many of Napoleon\u2019s\nmost gorgeous pageants of the melodramatic and sentimental kind\u2014for\nhe could be sentimental, this great butcher of men and despoiler of\ncrowns; he could, \u201cwith delicate forethought, and at vast expense,\ncause a multitude of pine-trees to be planted\u201d amidst the elms and the\noaks of the sombre Medicean forest, in order that his young Austrian\nbride might find some reminiscence of home when she walked out for\nher evening stroll\u2014Fontainebleau was to witness the going down of\nhis sun. Fortune, exasperated at last by the excesses of her spoilt\nchild, plucked the brilliant meteor from the sky, and cast it out\ninto the darkness. Once, in an interview with Pius VII. during his\ncaptivity, Napoleon, after lavishing all his art of flattery on the\npope, stooping to tender caresses and the most winning attitude of\nsupplication to wrest from his captive the coveted concession of the\nConcordat, presently paused to see the effect of the experiment. Pius\nVII. was silent awhile, then, looking up at the emperor with a smile of\nwithering scorn, he answered: _Commediante!_[129] Like lightning the\ntactics were changed; curses rained where kisses had been showered;\nthreats and gestures fierce as blows succeeded to bland entreaties;\nthe actor struck his forehead with clenched fists, stamped, grew red\nand white in turn, and swore that a thunderbolt should be hurled by\nthe Tuileries at the Vatican which should crush her defiant pride, and\nbury all Christendom under its ruins. Again he \u201cpaused for a reply.\u201d\nPius raised his eyes, and, looking fixedly at Napoleon, murmured,\nthis time with no smile: _Tragediante!_[130] The whole life and\ncharacter of the man are summed up in those two epithets: _commediante,\ntragediante_. But if Bonaparte played comedy well, tragedy was his\nforte, and his last appearance at Fontainebleau was a splendid\nfarewell representation. It is a little past mid-day. A bright April\nsun pours down from a cloudless sky upon the courtyard of the palace;\nthe horse-shoe staircase, bathed in the unmitigated sunshine, gleams\nwhite and majestic\u2014a stage of the antique fashion well suited for\nthe closing act about to be played upon it. The audience are already\ngathered to the place; thousands of the inhabitants have flocked in\nfrom the town and neighborhood, but the inner circle, the reserved\nseats, are filled by the grenadiers of the guard, the Old Guard of a\nhundred battles and as many victories, and by the marines of the young\nguard. The time seems long, for every heart is beating in sympathetic\nemotion with the coming crisis. At last the curtain rises. The doors\nopening on the horse-shoe staircase are thrown back, and Napoleon comes\nforward. A cry goes up to him from the depths of those many thousand\nhearts. But hush! He waves his hand for silence. He is going to speak.\nThe crowd sways to and fro, a human wave ebbing at the base of an\nadamantine rock, whence its idol of twenty years looks down upon it.\n\n\u201cOfficers, non-commissioned officers of the Old Guard, I bid you\nfarewell!... For twenty years you have given me satisfaction. Be\nfaithful to the new sovereign whom France has chosen. Grieve not for\nmy fate; I might have died, nothing would have been easier to me\u2014but,\nno; I shall to the last tread the path of honor. I will write what\nwe have done together....\u201d Sobs, such as break the stout hearts of\nwarlike men, interrupt him. He waits for a moment, and then resumes:\n\u201cI cannot embrace you all, but I will embrace your general. Approach,\nGeneral Petit.\u201d The general advances, and Napoleon clasps him in a long\nembrace. \u201cBring me the eagle!\u201d\n\nThey bring it. He gathers the colors to his heart, and kisses the\nsymbol passionately.\n\n\u201cDear eagle! May these kisses find an echo in the hearts of every brave\nman!... My children, farewell.\u201d The voice that had electrified them on\na thousand battle-fields ceased to speak; it has stirred those brave\nhearts to their depths; the veterans sob like women. Napoleon descends\nthe monumental steps of the horse-shoe, and passes through the midst\nof them in silence. Bertrand is waiting for him at the gate. He gets\ninto his carriage, and drives away. Thus the unrivalled actor took\nhis leave of the world-stage on which he had figured so long and so\nbrilliantly. The colors which he clasped in that last touching embrace\nwere henceforth treasured as a sacred thing; half a century later, they\nwere laid on his tomb at the Invalides.\n\nThe gallery of Diana, which had been left unfinished by Napoleon,\nwas completed after the restoration of the Bourbon. Louis XVIII. has\ncommemorated the achievements on a slab bearing in golden letters\nthe date of the completion of the gallery\u2014\u201c_in the 20th year of my\nreign!_\u201d And on the table on which Napoleon signed his abdication he\ncaused the following to be engraved: \u201cThe 5th of April, 1814, Napoleon\nBonaparte signed his abdication on this table in the king\u2019s cabinet,\nthe second after the bedroom, at Fontainebleau.\u201d With the singular\nmixture of obstinacy and simplicity which characterized his Bourbon\nmind, he systematically ignored in conversation and in all official\ndeeds the reign of Napoleon altogether, and continued to the last to\ndate as if that stormy meteor had never broken in upon the dull horizon\nof his sovereignty. Those inscriptions are the only two traces of Louis\nXVIII.\u2019s passage which are to be found at Fontainebleau.\n\nCharles X. never resided there, and seldom even visited the palace. It\nfell into sad neglect, but was entirely restored by Louis Philippe, not\nonly the edifice, but the pictures and costly works of art with which a\nlong line of sovereigns had so magnificently endowed it.\n\nUnder the Empire, Fontainebleau came in for the share of imperial favor\nwhich was so impartially divided amongst the still habitable castles of\nFrance. Every autumn it was the scene of brilliant hunting-parties and\nvaried hospitalities.\n\nWe will close this fragmentary record of the past of Fontainebleau by\nan incident, which, though not yet within the range of history, may one\nday take its place there, and be quoted with interest as an indication\nof the character of one destined, for aught we know, to play his part\nin the annals of the coming age.\n\nThe Prince Imperial, then a mere child, was playing one day in the\n_galerie des cerfs_ with a little friend of his, the son of an officer\nof the household. Suddenly, in the midst of their game, the latter\nrather irrelevantly remarked: \u201cThis is where Queen Hortense killed a\nman.\u201d \u201cQueen Hortense was my grandmother,\u201d retorted the young prince\nindignantly; \u201cshe never killed anybody!\u201d \u201cOh! but she did, though,\u201d\npersisted his companion; \u201cshe killed one somewhere hereabouts; I\u2019ve\nread it in a book.\u201d\n\nThis was too formidable an argument to be met by mere words; the\ndescendant of the injured Hortense clenched his little fist, and laid\non vigorously to the traducer of his grandmother. The noise of the\nbattle soon drew the attention of some ladies who were at the other end\nof the gallery; they ran to separate the combatants, and inquire the\ncause of the row; but the young prince, crimson with rage, and with the\nbig tears rolling down his cheeks, broke away from them, and rushed to\nhis mother, who was somewhere in the neighborhood.\n\n\u201cHe says that my grandmother killed a man,\u201d cried the child out loud,\n\u201cand I say it is a lie!\u201d Then, throwing his arms round the empress\u2019\nneck, he whispered: \u201cIt\u2019s not true, is it, that she ever killed\nanybody?\u201d\n\n\n\n\nLAUGHING DICK CRANSTONE.\n\nIT was not that soft, white, feathery stuff that flutters to the ground\npleasantly and lighter than the fall of a rose-leaf; that, dancing and\ndarting around and about everywhere with gleaming whiteness and varied\nand graceful motion, makes the empty air seem a living thing smiling\nat its own frolic. No; the snow was not of that character at all. It\nwas a sharp, fierce storm that made at you in a determined manner, as\nthough it had a sort of spite against you and the whole human race\ngenerally for bringing it down out of its bed somewhere up there among\nthe clouds; that, as it was compelled to make the journey, made up its\nmind to let you and everybody else have the full benefit of it. So\ndown it came fiercely in bitter lines so regular that a William Tell\nmight shoot an arrow through them without touching a single flake. It\nrushed at you, it beat you in the face, it snarled around your legs, it\npowdered your hair, and made for the small of your back; it peeped up\nyour sleeves, and made acquaintance with the inside as well as outside\nof your boots, as though it thought of getting a pair itself, and\nwished to examine your shoemaker\u2019s handiwork. It laughed at umbrellas,\nand made such a savage assault on your overcoat and waterproof that it\nwas plainly as enraged as it could be at being foiled, and in revenge\nsettled down on them, till it made you look from top to toe as though\nyou had been just rolled in feathers, _minus_ the tar.\n\nAh! it was a dreary day\u2014a day that made one shiver and think of the\npoor, and shiver again. It spoiled the play of the children, and little\nBessy would sit \u201canyhow,\u201d as her nurse termed it, in her chair, with\none hand mechanically endeavoring to pull the cane at the back of it\nto pieces, while her big round blue eyes would look out in silent\nwonder at the ugly day; and little Benny would flatten his already flat\nnose in desperation against the window-pane, creating quite a little\natmosphere of fog around him; while Harry, the big brother, ten years\nold last birthday, would make a false attempt to keep up his spirits by\nriding that imaginary horse round and round the room, making him curvet\nand caper, and shy at that corner, and evince a particular dislike to\nthe nurse, and kick so furiously at the door-key, till a crack of the\nwhip suddenly brought the restive animal to his senses, and Harry would\nbe still a moment, and gaze silently with the rest of the world out at\nthe cheerless snow.\n\nWas it the snow that Cranstone of Cranstone Hall was gazing at so\nfixedly out of the library window? Was it the snow that made those\ncheeks so deadly white, save for the two little purple spots on each\nof them? Was it the snow that made him clench his hands till the nails\nalmost tore the flesh? What was he looking at so fixedly out there in\nthe Park? What did he see out in the blinding snow, driving down on\nhis own meadow-lands, and draping the strong forms of his ancestral\noaks in mystic drapery, while from the bottom where the river ran,\nstole up a snaky mist in curling ashy-gray folds? He saw no snow, no\nmist, no oaks: he looked through them, beyond them, straight out at a\ntall form striding along, its back to Cranstone Hall, and its face to\nthe wide, wide, bitter, cold world\u2014striding on, and on, and on, and\nnever looking back to the home where he fell one day like one of these\nlittle snowflakes out of heaven, and grew up straight, and tall, and\nhonest, and true, and manly, with a head, and a handsome head too, on\nhis shoulders, and such a heart in his bosom!\u2014the pride of all the\ncountry-side, and the heir of Cranstone Hall. It was Dick Cranstone\nwhose figure his father was gazing at so fixedly, though that figure\nhad been gone three hours, and was far out of sight\u2014Dick Cranstone,\nhis father\u2019s only son, the only relic of his dead mother, the boy on\nwhom all the father\u2019s strong heart was now set, who was striding along\nthrough the snow and the mist out into the bleak world on that winter\nmorning, cast out from his father\u2019s hearth and heart, driven away with\na bitter curse.\n\nWhat had Dick Cranstone done to bring down this curse and chastisement\non his handsome young head? Dick and his father had been companions\nas well as father and son, for Ralph Cranstone was still a youngish\nman, and bore such years as he had well. His heart and his hopes were\ncentred in this boy, whose mother had been snatched away so early; and\nwhen he saw the bright-eyed, laughing lad ripen into a great, handsome,\nclever young fellow, who rode with him, and played cricket with him,\nand scoured over the country neck and neck with him\u2014for there was a\ndare-devil drop in the Cranstones\u2014it would be hard to find a happier\nman in this world than Ralph, or a more loving son than Dick; in fact,\n\u201cOh! they\u2019re as fond of each other as the Cranstones\u201d had grown into\na proverb in all the country-side. What, then, was Dick\u2019s great crime\nthat left him in a day fatherless, and his father childless, and rent\nasunder with a fierce wrench two hearts which all their lives had run\ntogether?\n\nThe Cranstones were an old family, older than Elizabeth, though it\nwas at her time that Cranstone Hall first came into their possession.\nThat was a good reign for people blessed with an elastic conscience.\nThe Elizabethan Cranstone was a Catholic. He had the choice of running\nhis neck in a noose and dying a martyr for his faith, or renouncing\nthe religion he believed in, and taking instead the goodly Abbey of\nCranstone, with its river, meads, and all its appurtenances. He did not\nhesitate long. Like most of his countrymen, he threw up his religion,\nand took to the abbey, turned out the monks, became a bitter persecutor\nof the church, changed the name of the place to Cranstone Hall, lived\nto a good old age, and the rich man died and was buried\u2014in Cranstone\nchurchyard. The old country folk round about tell you that this\nparticular old Cranstone, whom they look upon as the first of the race,\n\u201cdied a-yellin\u2019 for holy water like hell-foire\u201d; but then, such people\nare always foolish. However, to come back to the story, the Cranstones\nremained from that day out a flourishing, wealthy family, strongly\ndevoted to church and state, fierce persecutors of the Catholics whilst\npersecution was the fashion; when not so, what Catholics call bigoted\nProtestants.\n\nRalph was no exception to the rule. He honored the queen, and hated the\npope and Papistry as genuinely as the old Elizabethan Cranstone had\nprofessed to do. He thought the country was going to ruin when he found\nPapists throwing up their heads, and walking about on English ground,\njust as though they had as much right there as anybody else. And when\nhis old friend and neighbor Harry Clifford, who had been at Eton and\nOxford with him, and whom Ralph had pronounced over and over again \u201cthe\nbest fellow going,\u201d turned Catholic one fine day, as soon as Ralph\nheard of it, and met Harry by chance at a friend\u2019s, he turned on his\nheel, and walked out of the house, leaving the latter standing there\nwith the old friendly hand outstretched towards him. From that day out,\nall intercourse ceased between the Cliffords and Cranstones, and the\nold friends were as dead to each other as though they had never met.\n\nIn good time, Dick went off to Oxford, with an Eton fame as a good bat\nand all-round cricketer, a handy man at the oar, the best runner and\njumper in the school, added to the lesser reputation of being able to\nknock off the best Latin poem in the college, and running Old Barnacles\nhard for the head of the class\u2014Old Barnacles, who did nothing but grub\nat his books night and day, and who sucked at Greek roots as little\nchaps would at lollipops. He made one of \u201cthe eleven\u201d that year against\nCambridge at Lord\u2019s, and saved the game from becoming a disastrous\ndefeat to his university by his plucky and cool play against that\nterrible left-hand bowler. How proud his father was of him that day! He\ncould almost have gone up and shaken hands with Harry Clifford, whom\nhe saw there with his wife and a beautiful young lady in the carriage,\nso divided in looks between Harry and his sweet wife that she could\nhave belonged to no one else but to them. \u201cA Clifford to the tip of her\nnose!\u201d he kept repeating to himself, as he stole a sly glance at them\nnow and then, and yearned for a grasp of his old friend\u2019s hand; but the\nstubborn Cranstone blood was too strong within him, and he turned away\nslowly to watch the game.\n\nIt was going badly for Oxford in the second innings; the Cambridge men\nhad a hard hitter in, who hit so hard and so furiously, and had so\ncompletely \u201cmastered the bowling,\u201d that the score mounted rapidly, and\nevery new hit elicited shouts of applause for Cambridge. All over the\nfield flew the ball, sometimes in among the rows of carriages which\nlined the ground. \u201cThey\u2019ll never get him out,\u201d said the spectators\none to another, as the Cantab struck away right and left as freely as\nthough he were playing with the bowlers. \u201cThere she goes! Bravo! Well\nhit!\u201d they shouted, as the ball flew from the bat right across the\nfield, straight and furious, full at the carriage where were seated\nthe Cliffords. \u201cLook out there! Look out\u2014look out!\u201d they shout, as\nthe carriage party, conversing together, are utterly unconscious of\nthe danger approaching them. It takes a long time to tell this here,\nthough it was all over in half a minute. The cricket-ball was flying\nat lightning speed straight at the head of the young lady, who at the\nmoment was looking in another direction, inattentive to the warning\ncries that rose from all parts of the field. The shouts were hushed\ninto that deadly silence that will settle so awfully over a vast\nassembly when every eye is bent in one direction, and every heart\nbeats as one great one with the expectation of immediate disaster. All\nsaw the danger of the young girl, but no one could prevent it, when\nsuddenly there is a rush of something white, a leap in the air, a bare\narm flashes in the sun, and the ball is clasped in the hand of one\nwho never missed a catch yet, as he falls back over the side of the\ncarriage, right in among the party, holding the ball all the while, and\nthe great Cantab is out.\n\n\u201cBravo, Cranstone! Bravo, Cranstone!\u201d What a shout from the Oxonians!\nWhat a shout and a rush from all sides of the field to applaud the\nyoung fellow whose Eton fame had not belied him for speed, and whose\nswiftness and agility, and that high leap in the air and splendid\ncatch, had perhaps saved a young girl\u2019s life, while it rid his side\nof a terrible foe, and revived the hopes of Cambridge! But Cranstone\nnever heeded the shouts; he lay back there in the carriage, lifeless,\nhis head on Harry Clifford\u2019s knee, his eyes closed, and his face white,\nwhile the frightened ladies, who scarcely yet knew from what a danger\nthey had escaped, bent over him in terror. He had fallen heavily on the\nside of the carriage, and the shock caused him to faint.\n\nThe crowd is parted by a strong man, who rushes wildly to the spot.\n\u201cDick, my boy, Dick, are you hurt? Good God! Harry, it\u2019s my son. Water,\nsome of you\u2014water. Clear away there, and let him have air!\u201d The water\nis brought, and in a few moments he revives, to open his eyes on a pair\nof the tenderest blue eyes looking pityingly and frightened into his.\nA shake or two, like a strong mastiff, and he is all right again; the\ngame goes on, and, though Oxford was beaten, that catch lives in men\u2019s\nmemories; while Ralph Cranstone and Harry Clifford were old friends\nagain, and Mr. Dick Cranstone was reintroduced to his old playmate,\nMiss Ada Clifford.\n\nDick went back to Oxford that year with another feeling creeping into\nhis heart side by side with the great love for his father which had\nhitherto possessed it. He was not over head and ears in love with\nAda Clifford, nor, since it must be confessed, she with him; but his\nfather and himself rode over often that vacation, and Dick found the\nfamily one of the most agreeable in every way that he had ever met,\nwhile Ralph atoned for his former rudeness in a thousand ways that come\nwith such an indescribable charm from a strong nature. Dick took back\nthis memory with him to the university, and perhaps it saved him from\ngetting among the \u201cfast men\u201d\u2014a society only too fascinating for young\nfellows blessed with health, strength, good nature, good looks, and\nmoney.\n\nWithout actually giving up his practices of muscular Christianity,\nassociation with more intellectual minds brought him soon to perceive\nthat there was a higher ambition in this life for a young man than\nbeing the captain of a cricket eleven, the \u201cstroke\u201d of a university\neight, the best pigeon shot, or the proprietor of the most startling\n\u201cturn-out\u201d on the road. Association with intellectual men brought with\nit intellectual thoughts, inquiries, pursuits; while under all happily\nran the boy\u2019s innate love of honor, of what was fair and truthful,\nsupporting him somewhat, and keeping him, on the whole, straight in the\nmidst of the dangerous speculations and vexed problems which were being\nagitated around him, and discussed with all the boldness natural to\nundisciplined minds.\n\nHis Oxford course was drawing to a close, and he began to think of\nadopting some career, though the wealth and property to which he was\nheir necessitated no pursuit at all other than that of a quiet country\ngentleman living on his estates. During his last year particularly he\nhad read and studied much, and the result of his studies and inquiries\nalways came home to him in the form of the old question of Pilate, What\nis truth? He was, like his father, a loyal Englishman, a supporter of\nthe state, rather because he found it there established, and could see\nno better, than for any divine right which, in his father\u2019s mind, and\nin the minds of so many Englishmen, the glorious British Constitution\npossesses. But the church was another affair. That question puzzled\nhim sorely. That it might be a very fine institution, that it had\ngiven birth to many splendid minds, that it still possessed many very\namiable and worthy followers, he did not deny; but that an institution\nwhich was at best a very mixed affair, which was not believed in by\nthe majority of his countrymen, which had been patched, and stretched,\nand mended, and cobbled to meet the exigencies of every changing hour,\nwhich was not believed in even by so many of its professed members and\nteachers, was in any sense a divine institution, he could not concede.\nTo his truthful mind, it dated from Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, not from\nJesus Christ; it was simply in its present form an amiable machine of\nstate, not a divine organization which should command the approving\nconsent of all were it what men who believed in salvation ought to\nfollow. As for the rest of the wrangling sects, he looked upon them as\nso many ecclesiastical tinkerings, better calculated to bore holes in\nthe edifice of faith than to build up a system strong, enduring, and\nright.\n\nFilled with thoughts of this description, he came home restless,\ndissatisfied, questioning; too true and too earnest to throw quite\noverboard all belief as a sham, and take the world as he found it\u2014a\nmixture of good and bad, inexplicable save as a result of chance and\nconventionality. He visited the Cliffords, and they found laughing Dick\nCranstone an altered man, somewhat graver, and evidently unsettled.\nOne day, when his father was not present, he unbosomed himself to Mr.\nClifford, who was a very intellectual man. The latter listened kindly\nto the boy, though he knew the story well; he had gone through it all\nhimself. He did not try to explain matters there and then; he merely\ntold him that what he was then experiencing was the exact counterpart\nof what he himself had experienced. \u201cIf you like to come over in a few\ndays, I expect to have F. Leslie here, a Jesuit, and a convert like\nmyself. He will explain matters to you much better than I can, if you\nare not afraid of meeting a Jesuit, Richard.\u201d\n\nDick winced a little at this proposal; he had never in his life met\nwith a Jesuit, and his opinion of the society was formed on what he had\nread of them as the most deceitful, crafty, and cunning set of men\never organized to blind men\u2019s eyes and lead them astray from freedom\nand light; though, when he came to think the matter over, he could not\nbring to mind a single case of any of his friends who had come across\nthem and been converted to Catholicity, as some of them had, turning\nout fiends or blind enthusiasts. So he resolved to meet F. Leslie.\n\nIt was the old story. After due inquiry and preparation, he was\nconverted, and immediately after went straight to his father, and told\nhim all.\n\nTo describe Ralph Cranstone\u2019s wrath at the news would be impossible. He\nonly saw one terrible fact\u2014his family disgraced for ever in the person\nof their last descendant his son, from whom he had hoped so much. The\nline of the Cranstones was poisoned, defiled in the person of one who\ncould thus turn traitor to his queen and country. A Cranstone a Papist!\nAnd that Cranstone his son Dick! He did not ask him to retract\u2014he rose\nup and cursed the boy, and turned him out of the house.\n\nProtestant friends, this part of the story, though inwoven with\nfiction, is a very hard fact. It is not of unfrequent occurrence; the\nwriter to-day has friends who in their own persons can corroborate it.\n\nRalph Cranstone could have borne anything rather than this\u2014that his\nson should turn Papist. He might become an infidel, and believe in no\nGod at all; he might join any one he chose of the sects, however low;\nhe might even turn Mussulman or Jew\u2014but a Cranstone a Papist! Good\nGod! it were better that he had never been born.\n\nAnd so Ralph sat there looking out into the storm, where the form of\nhis brave, handsome boy had vanished. He was conscious only of the\nstorm raging in his own breast, of the terrible curse he had uttered\nout of his heart on the head of the one he had loved more, infinitely\nmore, than himself. That curse was ringing around the room still,\nand seemed to mock him like a fiend. He rose at last, and staggered\nto his room, not noticing the tearful old housekeeper, who knew that\nsomething dreadful had happened, and who came timidly asking him to\ntake something to eat, for the day had gone. His day had gone out with\nhis boy, and the light of his life went out with Dick into the winter\nstorm, to be swallowed up and buried away in it for ever.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDick had a hard time of it. He refused all offers of assistance\ntendered him by Mr. Clifford. He would not even go down to visit them;\nhe would not appear in the neighborhood; for he could not meet his\nfather again. He wrote to him many times, but his letters were always\nreturned unopened. He soon received news from Mr. Clifford that his\nfather had broken up his home, left the neighborhood, and gone no one\nknew whither. He could only pray for him to the God to whom, for the\nfirst time in his life, he found he could pray with a strong faith and\nearnest belief. He still would not go to the Cliffords\u2019, though he\ncorresponded with them from London, and saw them now and then when they\ncame up. He had friends on the press, and with their assistance managed\nto eke out enough to live upon by means of his pen. He worked away,\nsustained, in his loss of father, fortune, and place, by the religion\nof Jesus Christ, discovering each day new wonders in an exhaustless\nregion. His father he never heard from, nor gained any intelligence of\nhis whereabouts, nor whether he was living or dead. The trial was a\nsore one, but he felt that perhaps he was in some small degree atoning\nfor all the evils which had followed that first defection of his family\nfrom the religion to which they belonged. And so he worked away, and\nrose; for he had talent, and soon attained a position which relieved\nhim from all fears of absolute want, though still poor enough.\n\nThe Cliffords were a great comfort to him, and the thought of Ada often\ninspired the weary pen to fresh exertion when it flagged from sheer\nfatigue. The more he found the love of her growing upon him, the more\nhe avoided the presence of the family; for his poverty set a boundless\nsea, in his imagination, between himself and her. He excused himself\nfor not calling on them by a thousand reasons\u2014press of business, and\nthe usual excuses; till at last their intercourse almost ceased, and\npoor Dick, laughing Dick, became wretchedly miserable, and began to\nlook upon the world as a poor sort of place after all, while Cranstone\nHall would force itself upon his mind, dreary and deserted, the garden\nweedy, and the oaks lonely, with that terrible, heartless curse hanging\nover all.\n\nOne night, while seated in his room thinking such thoughts as these, a\nhasty knock came to the door, and, opening it, the old housekeeper fell\nforward almost fainting in his arms, with the exclamation:\n\n\u201cO Master Richard! Master Richard, dear! he\u2019s come back at last.\u201d\n\nDick staggered as though the old woman\u2019s trembling voice had been a\ngiant\u2019s arm which smote him.\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d he murmured.\n\n\u201cFor God\u2019s sake and your dear mother\u2019s, Master Richard, fly! He\u2019s\nill\u2014he\u2019s dying\u2014he\u2019s raving of you!... At the Hall.... Yes. Go, go, or\nyou\u2019ll be too late.\u201d\n\nHe rushed into the street, she following him. The snow was falling\nagain as bitterly as on the day when he last saw his father. The train,\nthough it flew along, seemed to him to travel at a snail\u2019s pace. The\nsnow blocked the roads leading to the Hall: the chaise could not\nadvance. He leaped out, unyoked one of the horses, bade the driver\nfollow as best he could with the housekeeper, mounted the animal, and,\nby what means he never knew, found himself at the Hall. He was about\nto dash up to his father\u2019s rooms, when a light in the library window\nattracted his attention. Mother of God! can that be his father?\n\nThe brown curls bleached to snow, the face white, and thin, and\nbloodless, the eyes staring wildly straight out of the window, the form\nshrunk, the mouth mumbling some incoherent words. The light of a candle\nshone full on his father\u2019s face, altered to that of a ghost.\n\nDick entered trembling, uncertain whether it was a spirit or his father\nhimself whom he saw before him.\n\n\u201cI want my boy, my Dick, my brave, handsome son. Bring him back to me.\nYou stole him away. Where is he?\u201d\n\n\u201cFather, he is here. Look at me, father. Here I am, Dick\u2014your own son\nDick, come back to you. Do you not know me?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou? You\u2019re not my son. I\u2019ve got no son. He went away from me. He\nhates his father\u2014his poor father. I\u2014I\u2014cursed him, when I could have\nblessed him, and he believed me; and Dick\u2019s gone\u2014gone\u2014gone.\u201d And the\npoor creature moaned, and covered his crazed head with his hands, while\nthe sharpest pang that ever rent his boy\u2019s heart rent it at that moment\nwith the thought that, perhaps, it was all his fault, and that, had he\nonly forced himself upon him, his father might have forgiven him, all\nmight have gone well, and he would not now have been summoned to the\nside of the lost wreck before him.\n\nThey bore him back to the bed whence he had stolen while those who\nshould have watched him had dozed a little. The next day the Cliffords\ncame over, and took up their abode in the old Hall, where Ada and her\nmother watched and tended the sufferer as only women can do. Dick was\naround them and about them, and in and out, and happy and miserable,\nand all contraries in a breath. Ada alone could set him right, and\nprevent him from going as mad as his father.\n\nRalph lay long between the two worlds. His strong reason; once forced\nout, seemed sullen to return. But it did come at last, and his weak\neyes opened on his son, while the heart of the father, with all the\npent-up feelings of these years, gushed out over his boy. He had gone\naway and wandered everywhere. He drank till his brain gave way, and\nonly enough reason was left to lead him home to die.\n\nBut death seems a long way off from Ralph Cranstone yet. The saying is\noftener than ever on people\u2019s lips, \u201cThey\u2019re as fond of each other as\nthe two Cranstones.\u201d Old Cranstone\u2019s face\u2014the Elizabethan\u2014has taken a\nnew scowl, for underneath his picture rises up an ivory crucifix which\nRalph himself set there. The snow falls merrily and cheerily; the old\noaks smile in their winter garb; no mist rises up from where the river\nruns. Yes; that\u2019s young Ralph there dashing out of the hall door to\nmeet his uncle and papa; there he goes climbing up uncle\u2019s legs, and\nshaking him as though he were a telegraph post set up there for him to\nshake; and, if ever there was a happy couple, that couple is Ada and\nlaughing Dick; and the old Cranstone frowns down on it all out of his\ndim canvas, for the Cranstone line has gone back to its old faith.\n\n\nSONNET\n\nTO A BOOK OF IMAGINATION; OR, THE LITERATURE OF THE FUTURE.\n\n  Go forth, fair book! Go, countenanced like that man\n  Upon whose brow all Eden\u2019s light was stayed;\n  Beauteous as truth, go forth to cheer and aid,\n  Breathing of greatness ours ere sin began;\n  With angel-wing from eyes earth-wearied fan\n  Convention\u2019s mist; revive great hopes that fade;\n  Bid nature rule where reigned but masquerade;\n  Bear witness to the joy divine that ran\n  Down to Creation\u2019s heart, while, bending o\u2019er it,\n  The great Creator saw that all was good\u2014\n  The mightier joy, when, dying to restore it,\n  He rose who washed it in his conquering blood.\n  Go forth, a seer in minstrel raiment clad;\n  Say to the meek, \u201cBe strong\u201d; the poor, \u201cBe glad!\u201d\n\n  \u2014_Aubrey de Vere._\n\n\n\n\nTHE PRESENT GREATNESS OF THE PAPACY.\n\nFROM THE CIVILTA CATTOLICA.\n\n\nI.\n\nWE do not know that history, ancient or modern, offers a spectacle\nsimilar to the one presented to the world by the Vatican to-day. Upon\nthe brow of that hill sits an august Pontiff and king, an octogenarian,\nunarmed, dethroned, a prisoner. He is strong only in the power infused\ninto him from God; rich only in heavenly wisdom and the love of\nnations; great in his merits towards Christendom; great, above all, in\nthe treasure of rights divine and human which he represents. The powers\nof earth have attacked or forsaken him; the base world concentrates\nagainst him all its rancor for the extermination of everything that\nChristian civilization holds sacred. Standing alone, with serene\nbrow and heart unshaken, he lifts his head before this concourse. He\nhumbles, confounds, sears them; the more furious the attack, the more\ndoes he show himself invincible to assault and terrible to assailants.\n\nThe enemy has hitherto triumphed over all and conquered all; subduing\nempires, destroying kingdoms, subjugating nations. He holds in his\nhand all the instruments of brutal force, and in his service all the\npassions of brute nature. He is to-day almost master of the civilized\nglobe; yet he cannot rule that venerable man of eighty years, who\nstands as high in glory and authority as the opponent lies low in vile\ninfamy.\n\nSuch is the spectacle, historically unique in all its accessories,\nwhich we have witnessed for several years, and have never seen so grand\nand august in aspect as to-day\u2014the contrast between Pope Pius IX. and\nthe Revolution. Unique, we say, for in no age of Christianity do we\nfind its equal for the universality of war, and arms, and desolation,\nor for the duration and variety of outrages. Therefore, the contrasts\nbetween Gregory VII., Innocent III., Boniface VIII., and Pius VII.,\nwith the impious sovereigns who dared to oppress them, do not in\nseveral points present a parallel.\n\nThere are feeble spirits, unmindful of the past, and weak of faith\nin the unfailing promises of Christ, who cannot read the lucid words\ngraven by his finger on the tiara of Pius IX.: I am the strength of\nGod; let no man touch me!\n\nThrough the shower of hostile darts raining around the Vatican they do\nnot discern the glory of moral grandeur radiating from it. Therefore\nthey are discouraged and scandalized. For the comfort of such as these,\nit seems well to speak of this grandeur, which, in our opinion, is\nclearly shown in the glorious cause defended by the Pontiff, in the\nmode and circumstances of his defence, in the quality of the enemies\nwho attack him, as well as of the friends who support him.\n\n\nII.\n\nThe cause for which Pius IX. wages so stern a war is the cause of God\nand man; the cause of liberty, individual, domestic, and social; in\nshort, a cause embracing all those ordinances without which no public\nor private right, no property, or virtue, or justice, or peace, could\nbe maintained. In the Sovereign Pontiff temporarily imprisoned in the\nVatican, the Revolution attacks not only the liberty of the supreme\nCatholic apostolate and the legitimacy of the most inviolable of\nthrones, but also all rational liberty of conscience, and the source of\nall social authority. In the Sovereign Pontiff, it attacks God, whose\nvicegerent on earth he is, and with God all rights and duties of nature\nand of grace, which proceed originally from him.\n\nThe Revolution, essentially satanic, full of hate towards God and man,\n_extollitur supra omne quod dicitur Deus_.[131] It tries to supplant\nGod, whose every image in creation it would gladly see cancelled. From\nthe beginning, it has always attacked the Papacy as the most vivid and\nuniversal representation of God among men; of God under the double\naspect of Creator and Saviour, author of reason and faith, eternal\nfounder of natural society and of the church; in one word, of Christ\nthe God-man. As it cannot dethrone Christ in heaven, it would dethrone\nhim on earth: and, to accomplish this hellish work of madness under\nthe guidance of Satan, it directs all its efforts against the Roman\nPontificate, truly the true vicariate of Christ, the king of the world.\n\nAll moral grandeur, human and divine, is therefore included in the\ncause defended by Pius IX. against the ministers and satellites of the\nenemy of human nature and of God\u2019s Word. The accursed phalanx make use\nof innumerable frivolous and false pretexts to reach their aim; but in\ntruth they thirst to destroy the Papacy because the Papacy embraces all\nmorality of reason and faith emanating from the Word, the unchangeable\nand eternal wisdom. In vain the Revolution masks its batteries behind\nthe dazzling names of liberty, civilization, and progress, pretending\nto seek the destruction of the Papacy as their implacable adversary.\nIndeed, after eighty years of experience, it is evident, palpably\ncertain, that under its false liberty lies hidden the most ruinous\ntyranny that ever oppressed the world. It usurps the dominion of\nconscience and of family life, and confiscates at its wanton and fickle\nwill the blood and gold of nations which it has trampled underfoot,\ngiving them in return only the liberty of corruption and blasphemy.\nIts treacherous civilization covers a refined barbarism fully shown by\nthe carnage and ruin of France in 1793, and of Spain in 1834, and by\nthe massacres and conflagrations of the Commune in 1871. Its baleful\nprogress tends to change the partnership of Christian nations into a\nhorrible hell of disorder, where, as in the kingdom of Satan, _nullus\nordo sed sempiternus horror inhabitat_.[132]\n\nTherefore, strictly speaking, Pope Pius IX., with his indomitable\nresistance, defends all the wealth of humanity against the monster\nthat would destroy it as the communists destroyed it before our eyes\nin Paris lately. The religious, civil, and material ruin of the human\nrace is the final end for which, directly or indirectly, with or\nwithout deliberate purpose, all the partisans of the Revolution exert\nthemselves, from the most hypocritical or dull of moderates to the\ngrossest socialist.\n\nThe immeasurable grandeur of this cause defended by the Roman Pontiff\nis generally seen and felt by all, even more by the enemies than by the\nfriends of the Papacy. Upon their war against the Vatican they have\nconcentrated their best strength, sagacity, and industry. They care for\nnothing so much as for the least trifle connected with the Pope; they\ntalk, and write, and vociferate of nothing so much as of the Pope\u2019s\nsayings and doings; of the hopes and fears which agitate them in this\nwar. Hence the first position in the political world and in what we\ncall public opinion is held by the Pontiff. It is preserved to him and\nnourished by that very Revolution which would gladly annihilate for\never his name and memory. It cries a thousand times a day that he is\ndead and buried, and a thousand times a day it is forced to bewail his\nvitality and energy; neither more nor less than do the demons and the\ndamned in the abyss, forced to glorify God for ever, in that they will\neternally blaspheme him.\n\nThis is one of the marvellous sports of Providence in our day: to make\nuse of the wild beasts of the Revolution to strengthen the Papacy. When\nthey think to devour it, they find themselves drawing its triumphal\ncar. So it was with Nero and Domitian in their persecutions against\nChristianity; so with Henry IV. and Barbarossa in the middle ages; so\nwith the Directory and Bonaparte in modern times. What doubt can there\nbe that the same will come to pass with the Lanzas, the Bismarcks, and\ntheir compeers in our own day?\n\n\nIII.\n\nBut the glories of the cause for which Pius IX. is fighting receive\nalso wonderful lustre from the strange modes and conditions of his\nwarfare. He has neither arms nor soldiers; he is poor in gold; neither\ndiplomacy, nor journalism, nor the telegraph is subject to his orders;\nhe is morally deprived of the liberty of leaving the precincts of\nthe Vatican, whose outer gates are guarded by the cut-throats of the\nRevolution. Arms, money, diplomacy, newspapers, and the telegraphic\nwires are in the hands of the enemy who besieges him before the tomb\nof S. Peter, and who uses them as far as possible to his injury. The\nartifices, conspiracies, calumnies, outrages, and insults of the\nRevolution succeed each other like waves on a tempestuous sea. And to\nmake them more exquisitely atrocious, the greater number are hurled at\nhim with the absurd protest that his inviolability is guaranteed by the\nmajesty of the laws.[133]\n\nLiterally speaking, no other arms are left to the Holy Father than\nhis constancy and his word; but it is a constancy that makes the\nenemy despair, and a word that confounds him. That apostolic breast\nis inaccessible to seduction, those august lips are inexhaustible of\ntruth. He boldly defines theft to be theft, injustice to be injustice,\ntyranny to be tyranny; his language does not change with the times, nor\nto suit any one whomsoever. In condemning crimes and reproving villany,\nhe has no respect for persons. He fears the powerful no more than the\nfaint-hearted. He does not suffer himself to be deluded by the promises\nor dismayed by the threats of those who boast innumerable armies and\nglory in formidable artillery. The heart of Pius IX. is undaunted by\nthe flash of swords and the thunder of cannon. The Revolution, unable\nto shake the firmness or chain the tongue of Piux IX., regards him with\na shuddering admiration, and exalts with demoniac yells his superhuman\npower.\n\nIn very truth, a strange case! We see a victim and an assassin. The\nvictim has only the moral strength of dignity and right: the assassin\nis opulent in brute force; yet the victim does not tremble before the\nassassin, but the assassin before the victim. The Revolution does not\nmake Pius IX. turn pale: Pius IX. intimidates the Revolution. A rebuke\nfrom the victim strikes sharper terror into the assassin than the whole\narsenal of the assassin can infuse into the victim.\n\nThis fact alone, in our opinion, is a striking proof that the Papacy\nis divine in origin, in its prerogatives, its life, its activity, its\nmanifestation. The mysterious power which, with the simple virtue of a\n_non possumus_ and a _non licet_, it exercises on earth, proves that\nGod speaks in it, and its word proceeds from the Word of truth. What\nother mere mortal could by his own power produce effects so great with\narguments so slight? A motto of Napoleon I. intimidated whole nations,\nbecause at his beck armed men stood forth and always victorious: his\npower was founded on iron and in blood. But on what soldiery rests the\nword of the Vicar of Christ, imprisoned in the Vatican? What invasion,\nwhat battle, can be dreaded as the result of a _non possumus_ and a\n_non licet_ of Pius IX.? Yet these words, uttered by his lips, strike\nperplexity into the leaders of all Revolutionary armies. How explain\nthis wonder without admitting that the strength of Pius IX. is God\u2019s\nstrength? And after that, how deny that the stupendous greatness of\nthe Roman Pontificate never shone more gloriously than now, whilst\nPope Pius, in the name of the King of kings, and of the Lord of lords,\n_pugnat gladio oris sui_,[134] strikes with the sword of the Word, and\nconquers the satanic hydra of the insolent Revolution?\n\n\nIV\n\nThe assailants of the Papacy are wont to say, in their own praise,\nthat the Vatican has for its adversaries the most enlightened,\ncultivated, and virtuous men of our time. We, on the contrary, see\nthe very opposite. With certain exceptions, including the blind,\nthe dull, and the deluded, in the throng of declared enemies of the\nRoman Pontificate, we find only the moral dregs of society. There\nare great and small, of course, but, when put to a moral test, they\nare all equal, one as good as another, unless, indeed, the great are\nworth less than the small. In the throng, there are heretics without\na creed, Jews without a Testament, atheists without a God, and\nCatholics without laws. We find deserters from every flag\u2014those who\nbetray their masters, and bite the hands of benefactors; doubled-faced\ndeceivers\u2014men who have instigated horrible massacres, and flattered\nevery social crime; men guilty of infamous sacrilege, awful rapine,\nnefarious murders. We see corruptors of the people\u2014burglars, brawlers,\nbombarders of harmless cities, mercenary writers, vendors of honor,\nprotectors of evil haunts, worshippers of luxury. We notice all the\napostates from the church and the priesthood: renegade Christians,\nsilenced priests, unfrocked friars. We see men who insult God, disturb\ncivil order, tear down thrones, cheat and defraud their neighbor\u2014in\nshort, men who blaspheme against the faith, and trample on the Ten\nCommandments. There is no kind of sectarian, from the most stupid of\nFreemasons to the most brutal of communists, that does not make part of\nthis crowd of enlightened, cultivated, virtuous men of the present age.\n\nThe Prophet Daniel contemplated, in four shadowy, mysterious creatures,\nnot only the four great monarchies of the earth, but the four great\npersecutions to which Christ\u2019s church would be subjected in the course\nof ages. The interpreters of this acceptation of the vision agree in\nsaying that the first, symbolized by the lioness, meant the persecution\nof Gentiles so cruelly prosecuted by the Roman C\u00e6sars; the second,\ndenoted by the bear, that of heretics; the third, represented by the\nleopard, that of false Christians; and the last, figured by a nameless\ncreature awfully hideous, that of Antichrist, and so designated\nbecause, _in ea erit omnium perversitatum concursus_, it shall contain\nin itself the wickedness of the three preceding ones.[135]\n\nIt is, indeed, difficult to decide whether the terrible and universal\npersecution which the Catholic Church is now sustaining, especially in\nthe person of the Sovereign Pontiff, should be referred to the third as\nits completion, or to the fourth as its preparation. When we consider\nthe quality of the persecutors, they are undoubtedly false Christians,\nand worthy to be compared in ferocious malice to the leopard. But when\nwe see in them the union of all perversity united to slay the church\nin its head, we suspect that the present is, indeed, a preparation for\nthat final persecution which must forerun the consummation of the human\nrace.\n\nHowever that may be, it is beyond controversy that the persecution of\nto-day bears all the marks of Antichristianity, and that its promoters,\nfollowers, and accomplices accord with the description given by the\napostle S. Paul to his disciple and Timothy. We give the text, let him\ndeny it who can:\n\n\u201cKnow also this, that, in the last days, shall come dangerous times.\n\n\u201cMen shall be lovers of themselves, covetous, haughty, proud,\nblasphemers, disobedient to parents, ungrateful, wicked,\n\n\u201cWithout affection, without peace, slanderers, incontinent, unmerciful,\nwithout kindness,\n\n\u201cTraitors, stubborn, puffed up, and lovers of pleasures more than of\nGod;\u201d and the following verses.[136]\n\nNow, if, according to the proverb, the vituperations of the wicked\nare praise, is it not glory for the Papacy to see unchained against\nit to-day all the malice of the world, and to be lashed by all that\nChristendom holds in its bosom most odious, despotic, base, and\nabominable? Is not this the highest summit of grandeur? Is it not an\nunexampled participation in the glories of Christ?\n\n\nV.\n\nThe more startling the contrast of opposite qualities in those who\nlove and are faithful to the Papacy, the more must we admire them.\nTo the moral dregs of society we see opposed the very flower of good\nmen of every condition and in every country; not only among Catholic\nChristians, but among Protestants and schismatics, and even among\nTurks, Jews, and the barbarians of Asia. In vain does the Revolution\ntry to vilify with terms of reproach those who are devoted to the\nPope and to his sacred rights. It cannot prevent them from being what\nthey are\u2014an honor to the world, and the support of justice. It is\nimpossible to be sincere, to understand clearly the significance of the\ncause defended by the Papacy, and not feel for it love and veneration.\nFor this end it is not necessary to have supernatural faith, and\nto belong to the fold of the church: the light of reason, human\nunderstanding, are sufficient. Reason and sense make it clear to the\nleast astute minds that the Pontiff is now defending all order, every\nright, every social law, against an enemy who hates God in humanity,\nand every good of God in the good of mankind.\n\nThe ardor of Catholics all over the world for Pius IX., and the close\nunion of the whole ecclesiastical hierarchy with his see, constitute a\nplain and lasting fact which will surely be the greatest glory of this\nage in the annals of Christianity. It is a glory due chiefly to the\nRevolution, which has been providentially permitted and ordained by\nGod, chiefly for the end of better strengthening and confirming unity\nin the hierarchy of his church. The result has been an exaltation of\nPapal authority among Christian nations so new and striking that it\nnow forms a large part of the strength with which the Papacy repels\nthe attacks of the Revolution, and promises to surpass before long\nthe effective power which it possessed in the middle ages of our era.\nThe complication of events leads nations to recognize in the Roman\nPontificate the sole anchor of safety left to them in these tempests\nraised by the Revolution. We may say that an irresistible power is\nlittle by little bringing them to seek refuge in this asylum. Not only\nhas the Pontiff\u2019s voice found a wonderful echo in the soul of peoples,\nbut his sacred person is oppressed, so to speak, with demonstrations of\nfaith and love more solemnly magnificent than could be imagined. The\nvoluntary tribute of blood has been and is offered to him by thousands\nof valiant men; that of gold is constantly given to him by millions of\nthe faithful. He is truly the most beloved, praised, and honored among\nmen. In our time, there is no name of magnate or of king which ranks so\nhigh as the name of Pius IX.\n\nIt is true that governments occupied almost everywhere by the\nRevolution strongly oppose, with a thousand corrupting and despotic\nartifices, this movement of nations towards the Papacy; but all in\nvain. The wind blows from that quarter, and it is a wind that crushes,\nsweeps, and grinds to powder all impediments. See how rapidly the deeds\nand men of the Revolution succeed each other in the nations oppressed\nby it; the instability of its kingdoms, the fragility of its empires,\nthe fickleness of its victories, the inanity of its statistics, the\nweakness of its institutions; all about it is variable, changeable,\ninconstant: the buildings of yesterday crumble to-day.\n\nThis is because its satanic power is that of a meteor, not of a star;\nit appears, falls to ruin, and disappears. The power of the Papacy, on\nthe contrary, is a sun which does not pass away, but lives; and the\nvivid flashes which it sends through the clouds gathering around the\nRevolution already show that the meteor is about to break and melt away.\n\n\nVI.\n\nYes, the present greatness of the Roman Pontificate, impersonated in\nPius IX., the visible pole of all social order in this world, the\nterror of bad hearts, and joy of upright souls\u2014this glory is only the\nfirst gleam of that which his heroic and lingering passion is preparing\nfor an approaching future.\n\nFor the comfort, meanwhile, of the weak and timid, we repeat, with\nthe more sagacious minds of our own day, that the future is for the\nPapacy, not for the Revolution; that the Papacy has already conquered\nthe Revolution. We will conclude by making our own those noble words\nupon the immortal youth of the Church, spoken by our Holy Father to the\nrepresentatives of the Catholic youth of Italy, on Epiphany of this\nyear, in the Vatican. We accommodate them with perfect propriety to the\nsupreme office of the Vicariate of Christ, with which he is divinely\ninvested, and which he so gloriously sustains in the presence of God,\nof angels, of men, and of the infernal Revolution itself:\n\n\u201cMy sons, let us give battle, and fear nothing. Remember that the\nenemies of God are vanishing, and the Papacy remains. The Child\nJesus fled into Egypt, but in the night-time he was told to return,\n\u2018for they are dead who sought the life of the child.\u2019 How many\npersecutors of the Papacy are dead! After giving vent to their fury,\nand decimating the faithful who served God, they are dead: and the\nPapacy is left. Yes; _ipsi peribunt_, but thou, beloved Peter, living\nin thy successors\u2014thou, constituted by God his vicar on earth\u2014thou\nremainest, and thou shalt always remain: _ipsi peribunt, tu autem\npermanebis_. Thou shalt remain, young, vigorous, constant, in contrast\nto the persecutions which purify the church, whose head thou art,\nwash away its every spot, and make it stronger. _Ipsi peribunt, tu\nautem permanebis._ Thou art still with us in the teaching of truth and\nmorals, in many ways, under many appearances. _Ipsi peribunt, sed tu\npermanebis._\n\n\u201cLet this be our consolation, our comfort, our faith. Let us feel\nassured that _ipsi peribunt, Petrus autem permanebit usque in finem\ns\u00e6culorum_.\u201d[137]\n\nAnd you, great Pontiff, in uttering these sublime words, little thought\nthat, three days later, he would perish suddenly who for many years had\nbeen the treacherous tormentor of the Papacy in your august person.\n\nNapoleon III. perished uncrowned, humbled, in exile; that Napoleon\nwho, in the intoxication of his empty triumphs, thought to hold in his\nhand, after your death, the victory over the Roman See, _periit_. He\ndied, let us hope, repentant; and you, Holy Father, survive him to pray\nfor his peace after death, with the same generous soul that, like your\ndivine Model on Golgotha, always pardoned him in life. He has vanished\nlike a shadow, first from the greatest throne in Europe, then from the\nsight of men, _periit_; and the Papacy _permanet_ in you more than ever\ninvincible. You, Pope Pius, for the time a prisoner, continue, from\nthe Vatican, with Christ and in Christ, to reign beloved, blessed,\napplauded, over all who have a believing heart, an upright soul.\nNapoleon III. has gone down to that city of the dead which shall form\nthe pedestal of your greatness in all ages: _scabellum pedum tuorum_;\npeopled by beings like Cavour, Palmerston, Mazzini, and by a throng of\nmany others, who girded their loins for the mad enterprise of crushing\nout in his Vicar Christ our God, King of Heaven and Earth.\n\n\n\n\nA MAY CAROL.\n\nBY AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n\n  Is this, indeed, our ancient earth?\n    Or have we died in sleep, and risen?\n  Has earth, like man, her second birth?\n    Rises the palace from the prison?\n\n  Hills beyond hills ascend the skies;\n    In winding valleys, heaven-suspended,\n  Huge forests, rich as sunset\u2019s dyes,\n    With rainbow-braided clouds are blended.\n\n  From melting snows through coverts dank\n    White torrents rush to yon blue mere,\n  Flooding its glazed and grassy bank,\n    The mirror of the milk-white steer.\n\n  What means it? Glory, sweetness, might?\n    Not these, but something holier far\u2014\n  Shadows of him, that Light of Light,\n    Whose priestly vestment all things are.\n\n  The veil of sense transparent grows:\n    God\u2019s face shines out, that veil behind,\n  Like yonder sea-reflected snows\u2014\n    Here man must worship, or be blind.\n\n\n\n\n\u201cFOR BETTER\u2014FOR WORSE.\u201d\n\nCONCLUDED.\n\n\n\u201cPRAY take an easier chair, Mrs. Vanderlyn,\u201d says the invalid; \u201cI thank\nyou for your sympathy, and trust my cough has not disturbed you.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! not at all,\u201d says Agnes; \u201cit only made me want to come to see you,\nand I hope you will not regard it as an intrusion on my part.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means. You are very kind. I see it in your eyes. You do not shun\nthe sick. It is a good heart that leads you to me. I thank you.\u201d\n\nThese words are interrupted by painful coughing, but, after the\nparoxysm has passed, she becomes more quiet, and Agnes has a better\nopportunity of studying her face while they converse.\n\nIn spite of her wasting disease, it is a beautiful and _saintly_ face\nstill, and evidently has been much more beautiful in health and youth.\nRefinement and purity are stamped on every feature, and in every\ngesture and every fold of her raiment. The small, thin hands, folded\nover the book in her lap, are those of a delicately bred lady. A heavy\nplain gold ring, on the third finger of her left hand, is so loose that\nit is guarded by another and smaller one. These are all the ornaments\nshe wears. A soft, warm wrapper of brown merino, a little white cap of\nthin muslin which does not altogether hide her abundant dark hair, are\nall of feminine costume to tell of the wearer\u2019s character.\n\nThe room is very neat and comfortable, and shows no sign of poverty. On\nthe walls are a few wood engravings, mostly of religious subjects, and\na few photograph portraits finished in oils. A crucifix stands on the\nmantel, and a smaller one, attached to a rosary of Roman pearls, on the\ntable by her side, where also is an exquisite Parian statuette of the\nBlessed Virgin and Child. Agnes sits on the other side of this table,\nand, while she converses with her hostess, her attention is drawn to a\nsmall book lying near her. Apparently only to read the title, she takes\nup this book, and opens at the fly-leaf. It is a prayer-book, and, in a\nlady\u2019s writing, she reads:\n\n\u201cMartin Vanderlyn, from his wife.\u201d Although prepared to know the truth,\nalmost knowing it before she came into the room, Agnes feels her cheeks\nand lips grow pale; but she has always great command of herself, and\nnow has not been taken quite by surprise.\n\n\u201cMy husband is not a Catholic, although that book bears his name,\u201d says\nMrs. Vanderlyn. \u201cPerhaps he is a relative of yours,\u201d she adds, looking\ninquiringly at her guest.\n\n\u201cI never heard my husband speak of any relative of that name,\u201d Agnes\nsays. \u201cThe name is not a very common one, either. It seems strange that\ntwo of us should meet here. Is your husband absent?\u201d She has remarked\nthat Mrs. Vanderlyn had said, \u201cMy husband is not a Catholic,\u201d and the\navoidance of the use of the past tense gives her the chance to put her\nquestion, which she does to cover her own confusion, and mislead the\nlady as to herself. An expression of pain passes over Mrs. Vanderlyn\u2019s\nface, as she quietly replies:\n\n\u201cYes; he is absent, travelling.\u201d It is not the first time that the poor\nlady has been obliged to answer a similar question, so she is not much\ndisturbed; but Agnes feels sorry she has asked it. Mrs. Vanderlyn goes\non speaking of her increased indisposition: \u201cMr. Vanderlyn does not\nknow how very rapid has been the progress of the disease. I am much\nworse now than when he left home.\u201d\n\nAgnes cannot find it in her heart to ask how long it is since he left\nher. She thinks she knows, and she thinks she understands that Mrs.\nVanderlyn does not wish her to know that she is a divorced woman.\nShe respects this as a delicacy of feeling which her own position\nfully teaches her to appreciate. With her present knowledge of Martin\nVanderlyn as a husband, her sympathies are all with his wife. She\nbelieves now that it was his fault and not hers which made the trouble\nbetween them. Her strong good sense tells her that Mrs. Vanderlyn being\na Catholic was no sufficient reason for his separating from her; and\nshe cannot believe that this lady has been a disagreeable companion to\nlive with.\n\nOverwhelmed with all the thoughts surging in her mind, she soon takes\nher leave, all the sooner that she hears her boy calling to her.\n\n\u201cYou have a little son,\u201d Mrs. Vanderlyn remarks. \u201cWill you not bring\nhim in to see me? I am very fond of children, and the only one I had is\ndead; I shall soon meet her, I hope. But to-morrow you will bring your\nboy to see me, will you not?\u201d And she holds her hand out to Agnes, and\nlooks wistfully in her face. Agnes is touched almost to tears as she\npromises.\n\nThe next day, with her \u201ccurled darling\u201d clinging to her skirts, she\ngoes to see this _sister_, as she somehow feels Mrs. Vanderlyn to be\nto her. Are they not both the deserted wives of the same man? And she\nfeels that this one is more truly the wife than herself, in spite of\nall the law can do for her. And it has not escaped her notice that Mrs.\nVanderlyn spoke of Martin as her husband still.\n\nAs she approaches Mrs. Vanderlyn, little George is hiding his face\nin her skirts, only allowing himself to look out, from time to time,\nbetween his fingers, at the lady. No urging from his mother seems\nlikely to get him out of his intrenchment.\n\n\u201cLet him alone,\u201d Mrs. Vanderlyn says; \u201cthat is the way with many\nchildren. When we stop urging him, he will show himself of his own\naccord.\u201d\n\nAnd so he does. After the attention of the two is, as he supposes,\nremoved from himself, the chubby fingers come down, and the bright eyes\ngaze steadily at Mrs. Vanderlyn. She, becoming aware of this, turns,\nsaying, \u201cWhat is your name, darling?\u201d\n\n\u201cMartin Van\u2019lyn,\u201d proudly speaks out little George, using the name by\nwhich his father had nearly always called him, and which he now seems\nto choose in a spirit of sheer mischief, for Agnes has rarely called\nhim by that name. She had opposed it because it confused the address\nshe used for his father. The child speaks out the \u201cMartin\u201d with unusual\ndistinctness too, although he has oftener called himself \u201cMarty\u201d than\nMartin. Agnes has never thought of the boy thus betraying her, and she\nhas said truly that his name is George. She is confused, and looks\ndistressed, feeling that Mrs. Vanderlyn will naturally suspect her of\nfalsifying, if not much more.\n\nThat lady seems equally disturbed, but in a different way from that\nwhich the child\u2019s blunder might be supposed to create. She pauses,\nstammers, and, in great agitation, looking at Agnes, exclaims:\n\n\u201c_Whose_ child is this? I could almost think I had my own again! Holy\nMother, help me!\u201d Then reaching for a little velvet miniature case, she\nopens it with trembling fingers, saying, \u201cLook at that!\u201d\n\nAgnes looks, and sees the face of a child nearly the age of her own,\nwhich is so good a likeness of George that it might be taken for him.\nWhat wonder? It is the picture of his half-sister. These children\nof the same father had inherited a resemblance to his family rather\nthan to himself, and here is little George looking at Mrs. Vanderlyn\nwith the eyes and smile of her own child. Who has not observed how\nwonderfully lineage will proclaim itself in this way? The poor lady is\nmore overcome by this sight than by any question as to George\u2019s name;\nbut that has not escaped her notice. She lays her wasted hand on the\narm of Agnes, and says appealingly:\n\n\u201cTell me the name of this child\u2019s father! Pardon me! See, I will tell\nyou first why I ask, that you may know why I take this liberty with\nyou. I am Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s deserted wife. This is his child\u2019s face,\nand that is your child. He says his name is Martin. Pardon me, dear\nlady, again, for asking. I do not wish to pain you as I am pained; but\nwhat that man did to one woman he may have done to another\u2014deserted\nher. I have heard that he did deceive another, and married her. I\nhad not believed it, because he came to me for money within the past\nyear, and spoke of returning to me after he had done travelling. I\ncould not believe he had pretended to marry another woman; but with\nthis\u201d (pointing to the picture and to the boy), \u201cyou see I cannot help\nbelieving it. Are you that unfortunate woman?\u201d\n\nShe speaks with tender commiseration for Agnes rather than with any\nanimosity toward her. Agnes has stood during all this time, with her\nhands nervously clutching her dress, and vainly trying to be composed.\nOf what need, after all, is concealment from this woman, evidently not\nlong for this life, and so full of pity and forgiveness? So she answers:\n\n\u201cYou have rightly guessed. This is Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s son, and I am\nwhat you truly call that unfortunate woman whom he has deserted. But I\nknew you immediately to be his divorced wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cDivorced! who says so? No; I am not _that_. He would have made me so,\nbut I am a Catholic, and I would not consent to it. I _could_ not.\nHe is my husband still, and, while I live, no law can make another\nwoman his wife. But, oh! this is too cruel to you!\u201d she says, seeing\nAgnes droop at once. \u201cDid you really believe, dear, that you had the\nlaw on your side? You thought he was divorced from me. Ah! no; not\neven that doubtful right had he to marry you. He has not even the\nProtestant permission, for he is not divorced from me. Even if the law\nhad so parted us, he ought not to have married another, and I, as a\nCatholic, _could not_ do so; for you remember our Lord\u2019s words that\n\u201che who shall marry her that is put away, committeth adultery.\u201d I pain\nyou, madam, very much, I know, but I must not deceive you more than\nyou have been deceived already. I have not much longer to live, and I\nmust speak truth. If he ever returns to you, as I once hoped he would\nreturn to me, I may be in my grave then. Beg him, in that case, to\nmarry you, else you will never be his wife. I say this for your good.\nI am sure you cannot think it is in malice. Look at me. I have nearly\ndone with this life\u2014above all, with Martin Vanderlyn. You have shown\nme kindness. I say to you what I do now, that you may see to it that\nno more wrong in the sight of Heaven is done. I cannot look into your\nface, and think that you will live with him again while I live.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! no, no! God forbid!\u201d cried Agnes. \u201cI am not _that_, I could not\nbe!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen see to it when I am dead,\u201d says Mrs. Vanderlyn, and she sinks\nback exhausted in her chair. Agnes kneels before her, and does\neverything in her power to restore her; but, in the meantime, her own\ncondition is almost as pitiable. Little George has got hold of Mrs.\nVanderlyn\u2019s rosary, and is quietly playing with it during all this\ntime. When Mrs. Vanderlyn is more composed, Agnes gives way herself.\nDrawing her boy to her heart, she cries:\n\n\u201cOh! what am I, and what is he? What is our name, and what can we\ncall ourselves? Can a few words more or less from judge or jury thus\ndisgrace us? If I am not his wife, what am I? God knows I insisted on\nmarriage with him, and entered upon it in good faith.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not doubt you,\u201d Mrs. Vanderlyn says gently. \u201cBut, my dear,\ncall yourself by your own name again. Try to put yourself, as far as\npossible, back into your old life, until you can get him to make it\nright.\u201d\n\nAlas! she little knows how these words pierce Agnes, and enlighten her\nas to the great wrong that has been done. Her own name again? Why, what\nis it? Not Thorndyke now. Her old life! She shall\n\n  \u201cHear the \u2018Never, never,\u2019 whispered by the phantom years.\u201d\n\nAnother woman fills her place, closed now for ever to her, even if\nshe could wish to take it. No honored wife can she be now; only a\ndishonored woman, deceived, betrayed, deserted. Her child without\na father\u2019s name to call his own\u2014in the eyes of the law, \u201cnobody\u2019s\nchild.\u201d Where shall she go? What shall she do? To earn their bread\nshe expected, but she had not thought to do it in disgrace. The two\nwomen weep together, Mrs. Vanderlyn trying to comfort Agnes, who now\ntells all her former history to this new and strange friend. Strange,\nindeed, that to Martin Vanderlyn\u2019s true wife this shameful story should\nbe confessed by his victim; but Agnes feels that she has not a wiser,\nkinder friend.\n\n\u201cOh! where shall I go? What shall I do!\u201d she sobs, with her head in\nMrs. Vanderlyn\u2019s lap.\n\n\u201cMy dear, if you were a Catholic, I should answer: \u2018Go to your\nconfessor.\u2019 As it is, could you not seek advice of your pastor? What\nkind of Protestant are you, dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! I have no pastor. I _was_ a Presbyterian. I am nothing now. _He_\ndestroyed all my faith.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes; I can well believe it; only a faith rooted deep as mine is,\nand as invulnerable, could withstand his assaults,\u201d Mrs. Vanderlyn says\nsadly. \u201cBut, my poor child, you need some counsel wiser than I can give\nyou, and a strength greater than your own or mine to lean upon in this\nsore trial. Are you too prejudiced to let me bespeak for you the aid\nof my own pastor, F. Francis? Our fates seem so to meet in this great\ntrouble of our lives (though I know yours is the greater burthen) that\nI feel sure F. Francis will give you the advice and consolation you\nneed.\u201d\n\nAgnes is startled at the proposition, but it does not repel her as\nit once would have done. This much, at least, unbelief will do for\nits victims, if they have been Protestant\u2014it destroys that intense\nprejudice against the Catholic clergy which is the very life of\nProtestantism. Indeed, it often ploughs up the soil of the mind, and\nroots out the weeds of prejudice and bigotry, leaving a fair chance\nfor the seeds of the true faith to find root. Agnes has been a very\nthoughtful woman, and has often suspected that there must be some\ndivine influence in the Catholic religion to bind its believers to it,\nand to sustain them as she has seen no others held and sustained. In\nMrs. Vanderlyn, she has perceived, through all her own perplexity and\ngrief, a marked example of this divine assistance. Now that the way is\nopen, she feels a yearning to lay hold of the same support. It is the\ndesperate groping of a despairing soul for something beyond itself.\nMoreover, she has seen the gentle face of F. Francis, and heard the\nkind tones of his voice. So she answers humbly:\n\n\u201cIf he will let me, Protestant as I am, trouble him with my affairs,\nI would be indeed glad to have his advice. He must be often called to\ncomfort distressed Catholics, who keep nothing back from their priests.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed he is\u2014none oftener. Then I will tell your part of this sad\nstory to him first. He, of course, knows mine already. What shall I\ncall you to him, dear? You will be Mrs. Thorndyke still to him and\nto me, but you may not like to hear the name from us, and we must\ndesignate you.\u201d\n\n\u201cCall me Agnes Rodney\u2014my father\u2019s name may yet be mine. This is the\nsecond time I have taken it back. I gave my boy that name. Poor child!\nHe has no other now.\u201d\n\nThe boy has been sleeping on the pillows of a sofa for some time,\nhappily hidden from Mrs. Vanderlyn\u2019s sight by the back of his mother\u2019s\nchair. As he turns now in his sleep, Agnes rouses him, and leads him\nfrom the room.\n\nOn the following day, Agnes is asked by a servant to come to Mrs.\nVanderlyn\u2019s room. She suspects that it is to meet F. Francis, and she\nis not mistaken. It is not so great a trial to her as she has feared,\nfor Mrs. Vanderlyn has told the story first to him.\n\nFrom this interview she goes with a chastened spirit, and yet with\nmore of comfort than she has thought it possible for her to feel. He\nhas not spared her in the matter of how much she has been blamable all\nthrough her trials in not bearing with her husband more patiently and\ndutifully, and, above all, in tampering with divorce. He has shown her\nhow the church regards marriage: not as a civil contract, but as a\nsacrament; and that, in his eyes, she is still John Thorndyke\u2019s wife.\nSo the wish of Mrs. Vanderlyn that Martin might be persuaded to legally\nmarry Agnes after her own death, could not be granted while Agnes had\nyet a husband. True, the _law_ has freed her from that tie, but no\nCatholic could bid her take any such advantage. Moreover, it is very\ndoubtful if she will ever see Vanderlyn again. No thought of pursuit or\nof punishment ever enters her mind. To work for herself and her boy is\nnow all that is left for her, and F. Francis promises to try to find\nthat work for her to do. In the meantime, it is arranged that she shall\nstay for the present with Mrs. Vanderlyn, making no difference in her\nname to the landlady, to whom she says that they have discovered that\nthey are remotely connected.\n\n\u201cI guessed it would turn out so,\u201d says the landlady, \u201cand I am right\nglad the poor soul has found a friend. I think she grows worse very\nfast. She won\u2019t last long.\u201d\n\nThe landlady is not wrong in her conclusions. From this time, Agnes\ndevotes herself to the care of Mrs. Vanderlyn in her fast-failing\nstrength. Indeed, did Agnes not fill the place of nurse, a hired one\nwould be necessary, for the invalid has no relatives in the country\nupon whom to call. She was an only child, and her father the only one\nleft of his family. From him she has inherited a small competence\nwhich has placed her above want and above the need of trying to wring\nfrom her husband any support. It was this which tempted him to come so\nmeanly to her, even while living with Agnes, for pecuniary aid, well\nknowing, as he did, her generous nature.\n\nIt is a loving, but short task for Agnes to perform. In little more\nthan three months, Margaret Vanderlyn is dead. But what a missionary\neven on her dying bed she has proved herself! Agnes sees now what it\nwas that gave the angelic patience, and lent such a glory to the last\ndays of her friend. Day by day, she has been necessarily thrown within\nthe influence and teaching of F. Francis. The soil has indeed been\nready, and, after Mrs. Vanderlyn\u2019s burial, she feels, in her desolate\ncondition, that only in the bosom of kind Mother Church is there\nany consolation for her. Perhaps, too, the desire to get as far as\npossible from all the infidel tendencies and teachings which Vanderlyn\nhad brought to bear upon her mind makes her turn to the church as the\nsurest and safest refuge. So Agnes Rodney becomes a Catholic, and a\nsincere one. As she kisses the crucifix, which was Mrs. Vanderlyn\u2019s,\nshe feels that she is a Magdalen, and longs to pour some precious\nointment over her Saviour\u2019s feet.\n\nMrs. Vanderlyn has left nearly all of her property to Agnes, not only\nas an acknowledgment of untiring devotion in her last days, but as some\namends for the wrong done to her by Martin Vanderlyn. No finer proof of\nMargaret\u2019s noble heart could have been given than in this generosity to\nthe woman who had supplanted her.\n\nBut Agnes cannot rest content in the ease thus afforded her. She feels\nthat she does not deserve it. She longs to make some greater expiation\nthan any she has yet offered for the error of her life. A Magdalen she\nseems always to herself. It is this feeling which culminates at last in\na desire to make the devotion of all her energies, and the sacrifice of\nall ease the precious ointment to pour at his feet. With this thought,\nshe goes to F. Francis, and proposes to place her boy in a Catholic\nasylum, and that she may become a religious in some severe order.\n\n\u201cMy daughter, it must not be,\u201d replies the good priest sadly.\n\n\u201cWhy not, father? I will strive so hard; I think I can be steadfast,\nwith God\u2019s help, after all I have endured. It would be such a blessed\nrefuge, too, from my name and from my sad place in life\u2014perhaps too\ngreat a privilege for me,\u201d she adds, watching the unconsenting look in\nF. Francis\u2019 eyes.\n\n\u201cYou have said it, my child,\u201d he replies. \u201cThose who wear that garb\nhave never been in your doubtful position. Besides, your husband lives.\u201d\n\nAgnes\u2019 face falls. She never thinks of herself now as a married woman.\n\n\u201cBut if I should become a real widow ever?\u201d she pleads; for the purpose\nis dear to her, and she has hoped that her boy can be made a priest.\n\n\u201cEven then,\u201d says F. Francis, \u201cthat which was your relation to Mr.\nVanderlyn would be in the way of your reception into any of these\norders, and your boy\u2019s birth would be an impediment to his entering the\npriesthood.\u201d\n\nNever before has Agnes felt how great has been her degradation as\nnow, when she finds that the all-pitying, loving, and gentle church\nwhich has washed her sins and granted her comfort and hope has yet its\nreservations for such as she and her boy.\n\nIt may be taken as a proof of the thoroughness of her conversion that\nshe so meekly acquiesces.\n\n\u201cBut, my daughter, I will tell you what you may do, if you feel like\ndevoting yourself. We will put George in an asylum, and educate him,\nand by-and-by we will find his place for him; and you can go into a\nhospital as nurse.\u201d\n\nHer face brightens.\n\n\u201cYou may not be a real sister; but a good hospital nurse, braving all\ncontagion, and discomfort, and fatigue, is the next thing to one; and\nyou may fashion your garb plainly, and shun the world\u2019s comforts and\npleasures very effectually in such a calling.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will, father! Oh, I will!\u201d she says with warmth, for this is her\ntrue vocation. \u201cAnd then I may not have to part from George entirely,\nwhich, after all, would wound me _here_.\u201d She lays her hand upon her\nheart as she speaks. \u201cHe is the only tie that is left me now.\u201d\n\nSo Agnes Rodney watches beside the sick and dying in a hospital.\nDressed in a plain brown gown, with her hair drawn under a simple white\ncap, she looks almost a real \u201csister,\u201d and many of her Protestant\npatients think her such. She is happier now than ever since her\ngirlhood. She is doing her Saviour\u2019s work and that which she has\nalways loved\u2014ministering to the sick. No other nurse throws into her\nwork such tender, loving care, such sympathy for the homeless and\nfriendless. The doctors rely upon her skill; the patients love her for\nher gentle ministrations.\n\n  \u201cAnd slow, as in a dream of bliss,\n  The speechless sufferer turns to kiss\n    Her shadow, as it falls\n    Upon the darkening walls.\u201d\n\nIt is some five years from the time when Agnes Rodney commenced this\nlife, that a young man, indeed scarcely more than a youth, for he\ncannot be more than nineteen, is hurt by a fall from a scaffold, and\nbrought into the hospital. He is a carpenter, and has been at work\non an adjoining building. To care for him, Mrs. Rodney is sent. The\nyouth is unconscious at first, and under the surgeon\u2019s hands. She does\nnot learn his name at once, and it seems as if no one knows it. His\nfellow-workmen have withdrawn for the time, but will return to-morrow.\n\nWhile Mrs. Rodney is disposing of this youth, washing and removing\nsuperfluous clothing, a pocket-book falls from his pockets, opening,\nand scattering its contents. She gathers these up, and is returning\nthem, when her eye falls on a little picture which makes her start and\ngaze curiously at the youth on the bed before her. This picture is\nof a woman much younger than herself, and fairer, but it is her own\nlikeness, nevertheless, taken many years ago. The face has a sweet\ngirlish look, and soft, dark ringlets hang about the white throat. Her\nown hair is now more gray than dark, and stern lines are traced about\nthe eyes and mouth; yet something of the same expression characterizes\nthe face of the picture and the face of the hospital nurse. How many\nchanges have come in her life since the sun portrayed that girlish\nface! How well she remembers sitting for it years ago! She gazes at it\nnow, and criticises it, as if it were that of another person\u2014never of\nherself. So completely changed does she seem to herself that no feeling\nhas she now in common with the girl in the picture. And yet she knows\nit so well. Who is this youth who carries it about him? Is it for a\nchance admiration of it? She knows this may be, for it is the picture\nof a very pretty girl of about his own age. She almost fears to allow\nherself to believe who he may be as she scans his face closely. He\nmoans and opens his eyes, turning to her, saying:\n\n\u201cPlease give me some water.\u201d\n\nShe gives it, and asks, with a quiet voice, but with eyes and ears\nexpectant of the answer:\n\n\u201cWhat is your name?\u201d\n\n\u201cGeorge Thorndyke, ma\u2019am.\u201d And Agnes knows that her own son lies before\nher. How anxiously, for many days and nights after this, does she\ndevote herself to this patient! No wonder the boy grows to be very fond\nof her? To him she is only Mrs. Rodney, and he has connected no idea of\nhis mother with that name, although it has been his middle name also.\nHis father struck it out, and he does not even know his mother\u2019s maiden\nname. During his illness, she, by little and little, gleans this from\nhim\u2014that his father is dead; that he has three sisters (she sighs to\nherself as she remembers the other two); that he is working with a\ncarpenter, of whom he is learning his trade; that his \u201c_stepmother_\u201d\nhas been always good to him, but that she is gone, since his father\u2019s\ndeath, to live far away. This explains one thing which has puzzled\nher\u2014that only his employer and fellow-workmen have come to see him in\nthe hospital. She has feared every day that some of his family might\ncome. One thing yet she yearns to know\u2014does he know any thing of\nherself, or does he think her dead? She longs and yet dreads to know\nthis. At last, when it is evident that he will soon be well enough to\nleave the hospital, she asks him if he remembers his own mother, or if\nhe was too young when he \u201c_lost her_.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, ma\u2019am; I remember her a very little; but I have got her picture\nin my pocket-book.\u201d And he shows it to her.\n\n\u201cThis was taken when she was very young, I should think,\u201d says the\nnurse.\n\n\u201cOh! yes; mother said, the day she found it, that she guessed it was a\nkeepsake of father\u2019s once, but that she thought I had the best right to\nit. She told me never to let him see it, or know I had it, and that\u2019s\nthe reason I got to carrying it around with me. Why, nurse, I think she\nhad eyes like yours.\u201d\n\nThe nurse smiles, and busies herself in such a way that her head is\nturned away for some moments.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think she was pretty, nurse? _I_ do?\u201d continued Thorndyke.\n\nThus challenged, Agnes looks critically at the little picture.\n\n\u201cYes; she _was_ pretty, I think,\u201d she answers slowly; \u201cbut, if she had\nlived, she might have been no better-looking than I am now.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd that would be nice enough for me; but, nurse, stoop down. I want\nto tell you something. She isn\u2019t dead, or wasn\u2019t when my father married\nmy stepmother. They think that I think so, but a boy told me that she\nwent away, and was divorced. I didn\u2019t believe it at first, but I found\nout that it was true, and I would so much like to find her.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause I believe it was father\u2019s own fault that she went away. It\nmay be wrong in me to say it, but I know he could be hateful sometimes,\nand I think he never liked me so well as he liked my sisters; and I\nalways thought my stepmother was kinder to me than he was.\u201d\n\n\u201cGod bless her for that!\u201d\n\nThorndyke looks at the nurse, surprised at the earnestness of the words.\n\n\u201cWhy, yes,\u201d he says, encouraged in his confidences by her sympathy.\n\u201cShe was always good to me, but I guess my own mother was superior to\nher, and father knew it; but they got along very well together, and she\nwas good to him when he was sick at last.\u201d\n\n\u201cDid he prosper?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, quite well; but what he left wasn\u2019t much, divided among four\nof us, and mother\u2019s share out. I\u2019ll have a little to start me with,\nthough, and I got good schooling.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad of that,\u201d says the nurse.\n\n\u201cWhy, nurse, what an interest you take in me; I think it very good of\nyou, indeed. Is it so with all the poor fellows who get shut up here?\u201d\n\n\u201cGeorge Thorndyke, let me tell you something which I _must_ before you\ngo away and I lose all trace of you. I knew that picture as soon as I\nsaw it, for I saw it before you were born.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you knew my mother! Where is she? Say! Is she living?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is here. Can you forgive her and love her?\u201d\n\nThey are not alone, so this revelation has to be made with hushed\nvoices and guarded manner; but George Thorndyke says, grasping her\nhands:\n\n\u201cI would rather you were my mother than any woman I have ever met; and\nI will work for you all the days of my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, George; this is my place, and this is my work.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you must come out of it; you\u2019ll get your death here. Gracious\ngoodness! I can\u2019t take it all in! Why, what a good thing it was for me\nto get that tumble, as it led me to you!\u201d\n\nAnd then he questions her very much, and many of his questions are hard\nto answer. At last he says suddenly:\n\n\u201cBut you\u2019re a Catholic, are you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she answers.\n\n\u201cDid that make the trouble, mother?\u201d And he looks as if he thinks he\nhas guessed it all.\n\n\u201cNo, my son; if I had been a Catholic then, it would never have\nhappened, and I should never have been here, and perhaps not you,\neither.\u201d\n\nHe refrains from any further questions, but goes on declaring that he\nwill take her from there, and work for her. It is pleasant to this\nlonely woman to feel that here is a manly heart and strength to lean on\nwhich she may honestly claim, but she answers:\n\n\u201cNo, George; I cannot allow it; you must work, and take a wife,\nby-and-by, to yourself. I have my place and my work here, and there is\nanother for whom I work too. But I have some money besides. There is no\nneed for you to work for me, although I am here. Why, I am almost rich.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnother?\u201d he says curiously, and scarcely noticing her last words.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d she says, and has the pain of blushing before her own son, as\nshe tells him he has a brother. \u201cThere is another George who is as near\nto you as those sisters of whom you have told me. I named him George to\nfill your place, after the law gave you to your father and not to me.\nO my son! I never meant to leave _you_. God knows I did not.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do believe that,\u201d he said; \u201cbut keep quiet, or they\u2019ll notice. Where\nis\u2014my\u2014brother?\u201d There is a slight hesitation over the last word\u2014ever\nso slight\u2014and he puts it bravely, but she feels it. That nice sense of\nmotherhood has always been so quick with her. In all her vicissitudes,\nit has never been blunted. She tells him where George Rodney is, and\nasks if he wishes to see him.\n\n\u201cYes; I do, for your sake; and, besides, he is my namesake, and did\nalmost crowd me out, which I can\u2019t allow, you know. But\u2014is\u2014is\u2014Mr.\nRodney living?\u201d\n\nAh! what a keen although unconscious thrust is that!\n\n\u201cRodney is my maiden name, George, and I have dropped the other. The\nCatholic Church does not recognize me as the wife of any other than\nyour father.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I see,\u201d he says, in evident relief.\n\nShe goes bravely on to have it over:\n\n\u201cBut little George\u2019s father is gone from us, I do not know where; I\nnever expect to see him again. Rodney was in your name too, George.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never knew that,\u201d he says.\n\n\u201cWell, let it pass; perhaps your father did well to leave it out, and\nyour brother keeps it now.\u201d\n\nThey are interrupted here, and the nurse leaves her son, to attend\nto other duties. He finds enough to think about, and wants no other\ncompany but his own thoughts.\n\nIt is not many days after this that George Thorndyke leaves the\nhospital; but he never lets a day pass without going to see his mother,\nand he meets his brother kindly, if not affectionately. But to all his\nentreaties, and for a long time, Agnes refuses to leave her hard life.\nShe means to \u201cdie in the harness\u201d which she has voluntarily assumed.\nBut at last her health begins to fail with the long strain upon her\nendurance, and the doctors say she must rest. F. Francis also counsels\nit. Now, and not till now, does she allow her son to make a home for\nher. It is a very comfortable one, for, with the money left her by Mrs.\nVanderlyn, added to her long-saved pay as a hospital nurse, and George\nThorndyke\u2019s wages in his trade, they live in quiet refinement, if not\nluxury. And Agnes Rodney is a happy mother of two good sons.\n\nA year has passed, and Agnes sits on a ferry-boat, in company with\nGeorge Rodney, who is spending a short vacation with her. They sit\nnear a man who is closely watching them, but whom they do not observe.\nThis man has a sallow, unhealthy, and dissipated face, but withal a\nrather handsome one. The hair is dark, the eyes are gray, but sunken,\nand restless in their expression. A very heavy beard covers all the\nlower part of his face. A broad-brimmed felt hat shades his forehead\nand eyes. He seems very curious about Agnes, and shifts his seat, and\nleans nearer to hear her voice every time she answers George\u2019s frequent\nquestions. As they pass from the boat, he hastens to walk close behind\nher. He hears her say to the boy, \u201cWait, _George_, not so fast,\u201d and\nhis eye lights up at something in these few words. The mother and son\nget into a street-car. The man follows them, but seats himself on the\nsame side, and at the other end of the seat. He keeps his head turned\nthe other way whenever Agnes appears likely to look in his direction.\nHe is at the end of the car where she will not pass him in leaving it.\n\nWhen Agnes and George get off, he follows quickly, still without their\nnoticing him. He sees the house they enter, surveys the neighborhood,\nrepeats the number to himself, and then walks up the street and around\nthe block, apparently in deep thought. When he comes around to the\nhouse again, he goes slowly up the steps, and reads \u201cThorndyke\u201d upon\nthe door. This seems to puzzle him. He looks around the neighborhood\nagain.\n\n\u201cNo; I am right,\u201d he says; \u201cthat is the church opposite, and this is\nthe number, but what does _this_ name mean! John Thorndyke is dead, but\nshe seems to prefer his name! Well, I\u2019ll just see.\u201d And he rings the\nbell.\n\n\u201cIs Mrs. Thorndyke in?\u201d he says to the maid who opens the door.\n\n\u201cThere hain\u2019t no Mrs. Thorndyke,\u201d says the girl, taking it as a\npersonal grievance that he is not aware of this fact.\n\n\u201cOh! well, the lady of the house\u2014Mrs. Vanderlyn,\u201d he says, not\nwishing to appear too ignorant before this austere damsel. Now she is\nexasperated.\n\n\u201cThere hain\u2019t nobody of _that_ name, neither; but isn\u2019t it Mrs. Rodney\nyou want?\u201d\n\nThe moment he hears this name, he appears satisfied, and, without\nnoticing the girl\u2019s rudeness, he says:\n\n\u201cThat is the lady I mean.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, she\u2019s in.\u201d And the girl waves her hand to the open parlor door,\nas if she disdains further words with him. She suspects he hasn\u2019t known\nthe name of Rodney at all before she mentioned it. All his offence is\nin asking a question which she has been obliged to answer several times\nbefore to pedlars and others of that kind, but she visits upon him the\naccumulated vexation caused by his predecessors.\n\n\u201c_What name_ shall _I_ take to her?\u201d she asks, with an unpleasant\nemphasis, as if she doubts whether he knows his own name, or has any.\n\n\u201cWhat name? Ah! yes. Say Mr. _Martin_ would like to see her.\u201d\n\nThe girl goes up-stairs, and tells Mrs. Rodney that Mr. _Morton_ is\nwaiting in the parlor.\n\nAfter he is left alone, the man looks about the comfortable\nappointments of the room with a quick business eye. He seems satisfied,\nbut has not much time for scrutiny, as he hears a step coming down the\nstairs. He rises, and stands ready to meet Agnes as she enters. When\nher eye falls on him, she stops at once, and stands looking steadily\nat him without speaking, but growing very pale. He comes toward her,\nsaying, \u201cAgnes!\u201d and holding out both his hands. She does not take\nthem, nor offer any welcome, but says, in a cold, quiet voice, \u201cWhat do\nyou want of me?\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you, then, so unforgiving to me, Agnes? After all my long search\nfor you, is this all the greeting you can give me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know how long your search may have been, but I am sorry that\nyou have succeeded in finding me. What is it you want of me?\u201d she says,\nin the same cold tone.\n\n\u201cTo live with you, as I would have done all these years if you had not\nso unaccountably hidden yourself away.\u201d He says this with an air of\nboldness, and of assertion of some right which he supposes she must\nrecognize.\n\nShe smiles disdainfully. She divines the selfishness of this move, and\nshe sees that he is ignorant of the extent of her knowledge concerning\nhim.\n\n\u201cWhere have you been all these years?\u201d he asks, as she continues\nsilent.\n\n\u201cI am not bound to account for myself to you,\u201d she replies.\n\n\u201cCome, now, Agnes, this is foolish. Why not be friendly? It is best for\nyou to be so. I have seen you with the boy. He is mine, and I can claim\nhim, you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, sir! you cannot do that.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think I cannot? Pray, why? You are my wife, and he is my son.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is your son, but I am not your wife,\u201d she says, in a firm tone.\n\n\u201cNot my wife! But you were married to me. Oh! shame, Agnes! I did not\nexpect that _you_, who insisted on the tying of that knot, would be the\none to untie it. In what position does it place you and the boy if you\nare not my wife? I suppose you have considered _that_, and you must\nhave advanced somewhat in your ideas to be so independent now of public\nopinion.\u201d\n\nHer face is very pale, and her lips have been firmly set. There is a\ncold, stern light in her eyes as she answers: \u201cI was never your wife.\nYou were not free to marry me, even if I had been free to marry you.\nYou were never divorced from your wife, so you can have no claim on me.\u201d\n\nHe looks astonished, and for a moment cringes just a little as she says\nthis. But he rallies, and says, \u201cThat will not matter now, my wife is\ndead; do you know that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do? Why, how do _you_ know so much, when I only know that bare\nfact? Pray, can you tell me anything more?\u201d\n\nHis tone is half satirical, half beseeching. He really wishes to\nknow more than the meagre information which he has gleaned from the\nneighbors of the house where Margaret died\u2014that a Mrs. Vanderlyn was\nburied from that house. The landlady has gone they know not where.\nThey remember the funeral, that is all. He is anxious to know what\nhas become of Margaret\u2019s money. He thinks the priests have it; but\nhe is not sure of this, however, for one person has told him that a\nrelative who was nurse for the Catholic lady at the last inherited all\nher money. It has puzzled him very much to guess who this person could\nhave been. He has not succeeded in finding any record of Margaret\u2019s\nwill. F. Francis and Mrs. Vanderlyn had thought it wiser not to have\nit recorded, considering Agnes\u2019 peculiar relation to Vanderlyn, who\nmight yet return to dispute the possession of the money with her,\nor to trouble her. Now that Agnes seems to know something of his\nwife, it occurs to him that she may possibly be that _relative_ who\ninherited the money. Knowing the disposition of each of these women\nas he does\u2014the one for nursing the sick, the other generous and\nforgiving\u2014he sees that, if they met at all, this might have been the\nconsequence. Remarkable quickness of deduction and conclusion he has\nalways possessed, and it serves him now, and makes him more determined\nin his designs upon Agnes; but he is desirous of playing his game\nadroitly. She, on her part, wishes to shorten the interview, and be rid\nof him.\n\n\u201cI can tell you,\u201d she says, \u201cthat your wife died as she lived, a\nsaintly woman; that she was the kindest, truest friend to me I ever\nhad. I knew from her the falsehood you told me when you said you were\ndivorced from her, and the base deception you practised on me in\npretending to make me your wife.\u201d\n\n\u201cFor love of you, Agnes! There was no other way for me. Let my love be\nmy excuse.\u201d\n\nShe disdains any notice of this interruption, and continues:\n\n\u201cIt was an infamous falsehood and treachery to me; but let that pass.\nI was almost equally to blame, for I had no real right to marry you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow so? You, at least, were free,\u201d he says.\n\n\u201cNo; my husband lived. I was still John Thorndyke\u2019s wife in the eyes of\nthe church.\u201d\n\n\u201cChurch!\u201d he repeats scornfully.\n\n\u201cMartin Vanderlyn, I am a Catholic. It may modify your tone and remarks\nto be aware of that. I am proud and thankful to be of Margaret\u2019s faith.\u201d\n\nHe frowns, but thinks quickly that he may turn this to his advantage.\n\n\u201cWhy are you called Rodney, then, and Thorndyke on your door, if you\nare Mrs. Thorndyke still?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy son\u2019s name is Rodney. He has no other, and I will bear his. I\ndecline to account to you for the name on my door.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are very proud, Agnes, but I think it is best for you to be\nfriendly with me, considering all things. I certainly am free to marry\nyou now, and give the boy and you your right name and place. I should\nthink you were the very woman to wish that. I happen to know of John\nThorndyke\u2019s death, too, so I think you are as free as I am now, even\non your own ground. Agnes, I never meant to leave you so long. I wrote\nto you, and got no answer. I have searched for you in every direction,\nand only now I find you. Why are you so unwilling to live as my wife\nwith me, when you see that it would place you and your son in a more\nrespectable condition?\u201d\n\nAgnes remembers Margaret\u2019s words: \u201cSee to it that he marries you when\nI am gone!\u201d Then it had seemed doubtful if he could be persuaded to\ndo so. And here he is suing for her consent. She remembers his son\u2019s\nposition, \u201cnobody\u2019s child,\u201d but she remembers also her first-born son.\nShe remembers the bold, false, bad heart and life of Martin Vanderlyn;\nshe sees the possible effect of his evil influence on both her sons,\nas it formerly blighted her own life, and she shrinks in horror and\ndisgust at the bare thought of such a stepfather introduced into their\nhome. She answers his question without hesitation:\n\n\u201cI do not love you. I cannot respect you. You were false to your wife\nand false to me. I have been able to live happily without you all these\nyears, and I shall live apart from you still.\u201d\n\nHe keeps down his pride, and appears yet to hope to change her\nresolution, thinking it may be only the result of a woman\u2019s pique.\nMoreover, he feels almost sure now that the comfortable home around\nher is purchased with the money left by Margaret. At all events, he\nis determined on getting a home if possible at her expense, and he\ndoes not scruple at any misrepresentation regarding his own means of\nsupport. To her last scornful words, he replies, with an air of kind\nconsideration:\n\n\u201cBut, Agnes, you will not always be able to support yourself as well as\nI can support you. I know not how you do it, but I can place you above\nthe need of any effort on your part. Why can you not be frank with me,\nand tell me how you have managed to live? You did not receive all the\nmoney I sent, for some of it came back to me. Tell me, Agnes.\u201d\n\n\u201cMartin Vanderlyn, I will not accept anything for either of us from\nyou. We can do without you, and we _will_. My decision is final.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you know the harm I can do you?\u201d he says, in an angry voice, and\nwith flashing eyes. \u201cI can brand you to the world and to the boy.\nWould you rather that than have a husband, and a father for your son?\u201d\n\nShe seems to shrivel and whiten at his threat, but she stands firm, and\nanswers him:\n\n\u201cYou committed bigamy when you married me. What will the law do about\n_that_? I can prove it, sir! Now, had you not better leave me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! I swear I will not leave you until you promise to marry me!\u201d\n\nAt this moment, a man\u2019s step is heard in the hall. He has entered the\nhouse, quietly opening the door with a key of his own, and, while\ntaking off his overcoat, has heard the last words of both the speakers.\nHe steps within the room, and comes to Agnes\u2019 side, passing his arm\naround her trembling form. He is a powerful young man, in full and\nvigorous health, which contrasts strongly with Vanderlyn\u2019s sallow face\nand wasted figure. He looks at Vanderlyn with piercing eyes as he says:\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean, sir, by speaking to this lady in this manner?\nMother, has he any right here that you acknowledge?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone, my son; I wish only to be rid of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, go,\u201d says Thorndyke, \u201cor I will see that you do. And if you\ntrouble her again, I will see that the law lays its hand on you more\nheavily than I will lay mine if you do not leave us at once.\u201d\n\nVanderlyn has gazed in great astonishment at this unexpected champion\nfor Agnes. When he hears him call her \u201cmother,\u201d it flashes upon his\nquick perception why \u201cThorndyke\u201d is on the door. He does not forget\nthat there was a boy left in Agnes\u2019 old home, whom he once promised to\ncare for as if he were his own. Not much more has he cared for his own;\nbut this is an opponent he does not like. This is a different kind of\nquarrel from the one he supposed he had with a defenceless woman. His\ngame is lost; he knows it, but he tries to be very brave in his defeat.\nHe says scornfully:\n\n\u201cMr. Thorndyke, I do not ask _your_ hospitality. I remember the quality\nof the article I had from your father some years ago. Yours seems to\nbe of the same sort. I will not disturb the _honorable_ repose of\nyour family, or try to become further acquainted with my son, _your\nbrother_.\u201d\n\nGeorge raises his clenched hand to fell him to the floor, but Agnes\ninterposes, and Vanderlyn leaves the house untouched\u2014leaves it, but\nreels as he goes down the steps\u2014staggers\u2014falls upon the pavement only\na few paces from the door. A few moments later, George Rodney, coming\nin the house, cries:\n\n\u201cA man has fallen dead in the street, just by the corner! I was coming\naround the other side, and I almost met him!\u201d\n\nGeorge Thorndyke rushes out, and sees the men carrying Martin\nVanderlyn\u2019s senseless body away.\n\nThe next day, Agnes and her sons read in the papers that the man died\nof heart disease, which the doctors thought had been aggravated by some\nrecent excitement. The mother and son are thankful that George\u2019s hand\ndid not fall upon him; but George Rodney never knows that the man he\n\u201calmost met,\u201d and who dropped down before his eyes, was his own father.\n\n\n\n\nTHE INDIANS OF YSLETA.\n\nTHE rich and thriving Pueblo of the Ysl\u00e9ta Indians is situated on the\nwestern bank of the Rio Grande del Norte, about nine miles below the\nlittle town of Albuquerque in New Mexico.\n\nWe strike southward from Albuquerque along the east bank of the\nriver. Three miles below the town we enter on flat and uninteresting\nbottomland. The eye is not relieved by a dwelling, not even by a tree,\nfor a distance of five miles. We thus come to a rancho, deserted when\nwe last passed there, but which still gave evidence of former comfort.\nThe owner had joined the Texan Confederates, and quitted the territory.\n\nNow we begin to cross the Sand Hills\u2014a not unexciting performance.\nThe road is a narrow and shifting one, growing daily narrower and of\nsteeper slope, as the winds blow the sand upon it and fill it up. The\nwagon moves along slowly at an angle of 45\u00b0. The road winds tortuously\nalong the face of the Sand Hills for about two miles, sometimes making\nshort and abrupt turns. It is from two to three hundred feet above the\nriver which washes the base of the hills. I feel an unpleasant tingling\nsensation at my elbows, and a great and almost uncontrollable desire\nto walk\u2014\u201cto lighten the load,\u201d of course. Once on the road, there is\nno going back, and one is entirely at the mercy of one\u2019s mules. You\nmust let them go their own way. If they should grow restive or become\nfrightened, a broken neck, a general and irretrievable \u201csmash up,\u201d an\nunpleasant and unrecorded grave in the quicksands of the Rio Grande,\nwould be the result. A six-mule wagon went off at one of the sharp\nturns some years ago. Its fate was discovered by persons who travelled\nsome hours behind it, and who noticed the tracks. The wagon and team\nhad been engulfed, and had entirely disappeared before they arrived.\n\nFrom the Sand Hills, we have a beautiful view of the Pueblo of Ysl\u00e9ta\non the opposite side of the river. The spectacle of the Indians fording\nthe river in certain spots, and driving their _burros_ up the steep\nsides of the Sand Hill on which their Pueblo is built, enhances the\npicturesqueness of the scene.\n\nWe have passed the Sand Hills, and now we cross the river to visit the\nPueblo. We have struck a little above the ford, however; the water is\nin the bed of our wagon. We have to stand on the seats in order to keep\ndry, and we perceive, not without alarm, that the mules are swimming.\nBy striking down-stream a little, however, the mules find bottom again,\nand pull us out all safe on the western bank.\n\nA steep and narrow path leads up to the summit of the Sand Hill on\nwhich the Pueblo is perched. The Pueblos always have built and still\nbuild their dwellings on the hill-tops: for defensive reasons in the\nolden times, for security against inundations in the present. The\nhouses are built of the customary adobe. They are washed outside with\na whitish wash which resists the action of the weather; the mode of\nits preparation is said to be known only to the Pueblos. I have seen\nnothing like it in any of the Mexican towns. The houses are generally\ntwo stories high, the lower story projecting considerably beyond the\nupper. The entrance is through the roof, to which you climb by a ladder\nplaced against the outside. This mode of entrance is also a relic of\ndefensive precaution in past times of hostilities with other tribes of\nIndians and with the Spanish invaders. The internal arrangement of the\nhouses is the reverse of ours. The kitchen is in the upper story, and\nthe sitting or sleeping room in the lower. You descend into the latter\nfrom the former by an opening in the floor so small that not even the\nlightest weight of the Fat Man\u2019s Club could hope to squeeze through.\nThe Pueblos have no monstrous developments of adipose tissue; the\nopening is large enough for them. The lower room is thoroughly secured\neven against ventilation. The only window consists of one piece of\nglass, without frame, imbedded in the wall.\n\nThe earthen vessels for family use are manufactured by the Pueblos\nthemselves, and are ornamented with fantastic designs of most primitive\nexecution. Chief among these vessels is the _tinaja_, globular in\nshape, with an orifice at the top large enough to permit taking out the\nliquid contents with a small dipper. The _tinaja_ is porous, to permit\nevaporation through its sides. In hot weather, the _tinajas_ are filled\nfrom the river or spring before sunrise, carefully covered, and set in\nthe shade. With these precautions, they keep the water almost ice-cold.\nThey are used in all Mexican _m\u00e9nages_, as well as in the households of\nthe Pueblos.\n\nThe costume of the Pueblo men is not lacking in picturesqueness, more\nparticularly when distance lends its proverbial effect. They wear\na short loose sack of white cotton, or manta, ordinarily made of\ncarefully washed flour-sacks; for your Pueblo Indian is economical,\nand, when he has sustained the inward man with the contents of\nthe flour-sack, he covers the outer man with the sack itself. The\npantaloons are of the same material, loose but short, not usually\nreaching below the knee. The enchantment of distance dispelled,\nhowever, traces of the former uses of the material may be discovered\nin such inscriptions on the shoulders or the seat as the following:\n\u201cSuperfine Family,\u201d or \u201cChoice Family Extra.\u201d The Pueblo wears his hair\nlong, tied behind in a cue, around which is wound a piece of red cloth\nor ribbon, according to the financial standing of the wearer, or mayhap\nthe greatness or solemnity of the occasion. The head gear is generally\na broad-brimmed straw hat. The foot covering is a deer-skin moccasin.\n\nThe costume of the gentler sex is eminently ungraceful. The women\nwind long strips of buckskin tightly around the leg, in successive\nlayers, resulting in an enormous bandage from three to four inches\nthick reaching from the ankle to above the knee. The _chaussure_ is a\nmoccasin. The effect produced by this arrangement is that of a feminine\n_torso_ set on two huge bolsters. All symmetry of form or grace of gait\nis destroyed. The walk is a sort of shuffle. The upper covering of the\nfigure is a dark woollen stuff, coarse in texture, and of Pueblo woof.\nThis reaches to the knee, and is composed of two rectangular pieces\njoined at the upper edges, which form the shoulders, and leaving a\nspace for the passage of the head and neck. The pieces hang down before\nand behind, and are held together at the waist by a belt or cincture.\nThe women cut their hair squarely across the forehead, leaving the\nside locks and back hair to hang down loosely. Many of the men, too,\nbesides wearing a cue, cut the hair straight across the forehead, and\nwear the pendent side-locks. The women wear their arms bare, save the\nornamentation of from one to a dozen bracelets of thick wire, which\nglitters, but is not gold. They wear necklaces of coral, moss-agates,\nor common glass beads, according to the wealth or importance of the\nwearer. The men also frequently wear similar necklaces.\n\nThe portion of the feminine toilet which requires most elaboration is\nevidently the leg-bandage. It is taken off to cross the ford on foot,\nand its removal seems to be as slow a process as unrolling a mummy. The\nobject of such a covering for the nether limbs I am unable to imagine.\n\nThe Pueblo is a handsome Indian. I have seen very finely cut features\namong the men. Many of them have beautifully fresh complexions, on\nwhich a bright apple-rosy tint is gradually shaded into a deep rich\nbrown. They are generally of medium stature, however. Their feet and\nhands are correspondingly small. Their faces have not that animal,\nthat _wolfish_, expression of the wild Indians of the mountains or the\nplains; on the contrary, they beam with good nature, simplicity, and\nsingle-heartedness. They are thrifty and industrious. The men do the\nout-door work; the women attend to the household affairs, or, in the\nseason, peddle the grapes, apricots, peaches, melons, etc., raised in\ntheir Pueblo. Should you meet a Pueblo and his squaw travelling with\nthe universal _burro_, you will always find the lady mounted on the\nanimal, while her cavalier, urging on John Burro with his stick, trots\nalong gaily behind, and smilingly gives you a cheery \u201c_Come te va?_\u201d as\nhe passes.\n\nThe Pueblos do not intermarry with the Mexicans. The women are chaste\nin their lives, and domestic in their habits. Vice is almost unknown\namong them. I have lived some years in the vicinity of two or three\nIndian Pueblos, and have neither known of nor heard of an abandoned\nwoman among them. I wish I could say the same of other races in the\nterritory. In this regard, the Pueblos also differ greatly from the\nwild Indians whose lives are continued scenes of bestiality.\n\nDuring my residence in their vicinity, the Pueblos had daily access\nto my dwelling. They were our fruit and vegetable purveyors. I have\nnot known an instance of their stealing a pin\u2019s worth, though they\nhad ample opportunities to pilfer had they been so inclined. In this\nregard, their example might be imitated with profit by people with\ngreater pretensions to civilization, and in this also they differ\nwidely from the savage Indians who are, to a man, thieves both by\nnature and habit. In fine, the Pueblos are among the most moral,\npeaceful, simple, and honest citizens of New Mexico.\n\nThe Pueblos are Catholics. Their Catholicity, in its out-door\nfestivals, has just sufficient tinge of the antique observances of the\nMontezumas to throw a romantic glamour around it. They have churches\nin all their Pueblos. Some of these\u2014Ysl\u00e9ta among the number\u2014have a\npriest regularly stationed in them, and many of the churches are served\nby the priests of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction in which they are\nsituated. The churches are adobe structures, not always cruciform, with\na belfry, and adorned inside with grotesque figures, the product of\ntheir own primitive art.\n\nThe weapon of the Pueblos is still the bow and arrow. A few have\nold-fashioned muzzle-loading rifles. The Pueblos do not lack the\ncombative instinct, and are more than a match for the Apaches and\nNavajoes, man to man. They have frequently acted in conjunction with\nour troops against these tribes; but their co-operation is often\nrendered valueless by their custom, most strictly adhered to, of\nreturning to their village as soon as they have taken a scalp, for the\npurpose of having the customary scalp-dance. I regret to say that they\ngive no quarter, and spare neither age nor sex, except when it suits\nthem to make _pe\u00f3ns_, or slaves, of the women and children. They say,\nin self-justification, that little Indians soon become big Indians if\nallowed to grow. The measure they mete is meted again to them by the\nhostile tribes.\n\nAs in courtesy bound, we direct our steps to the dwelling of the\n\u201cgovernor,\u201d who is known as \u201cDon Ambrosio.\u201d His house is of more modern\nconstruction than the customary Pueblo dwelling. We were admitted\nthrough a _corral_ and a door\u2014not in the roof, but in the side of the\nhouse, after the fashion of \u201cthe whites.\u201d The room we were received in\nwas a long apartment _\u00e0 la Mexicaine_, with benches around the walls.\nSome of the finest Navajo blankets I ever saw were displayed upon the\nbenches. The walls were hung around with French colored lithographs of\na religious character.\n\nGovernor Ambrosio was a dapper little Indian, with long snow-white\nhair falling loosely to his shoulders. His complexion was clear\nand peach-bloomy. Though full of years and honors, he was full of\nlife and health. His son, who acted as his lieutenant, was a man\nabout thirty-odd years, the image of his father, in stature, size,\ncomplexion, and everything except the white hair, the junior\u2019s being\njet-black. The women of the family were pleasingly featured, but their\ninartistic dress destroyed the effect of their good looks.\n\nAmbrosio is said to be quite wealthy, with fifty or sixty thousand\ndollars in _oro_ and in _plata_; for your Pueblo does not consider\ngreenbacks good hoarding. Ambrosio, Jr., showed us the fruithouse,\nwhere the senses of sight and smell were regaled with the pleasant\nspectacles and odors of heaps of rich, fragrant quinces and apples, the\nlatter small but rosy as young Ambrosio\u2019s pleasant face.\n\nAmbrosio\u2019s style of farming is more in accordance with modern\nprogressive ideas than that of some of his neighbors. His mules were\nfat, round, and sleek, and in the _corral_ lay an American plough of\nmodern construction. Many among the middle and lower classes in New\nMexico still plough \u201cwith a sharp stick.\u201d The irrigating dikes, or\n_acequias_, of the Pueblos are well and carefully attended to; they are\nnot permitted to overflow in the wrong places and at the wrong times\u2014a\nneglect which so frequently causes the traveller from the valley of\nthe Rio Grande to soar from prosaic observation to the sublimity of\nanathema. In their fields, I saw men, only, engaged in agricultural\nlabors.\n\nS. Augustine is the patron saint of Ysl\u00e9ta. Its great _fiesta_ is\nthe \u201cSan Augustin.\u201d The feast is held about the time when all the\ngrapes are gathered and some of the new wine already made. It is\nessentially a grape and wine feast. But to his other virtues, the\nPueblo adds the great one of temperance. Mass is celebrated in the\nmorning, and the whole Pueblo is out in its showiest attire. The dance\nknown as \u201cthe Montezuma\u201d is performed by young men selected for the\noccasion. Americans and Mexicans are kindly received and hospitably\nentreated in the Pueblo on these festival occasions. I have heard of\nbut one instance in which this kindness and hospitality was abused.\nIt was by a miserable gambler\u2014a \u201cwhite man,\u201d and, I regret to say,\nan American\u2014who, at the San Augustin of 186-, without the slightest\nprovocation, shot dead a Pueblo boy. The territory got rid of the\ndesperado, who had to fly, for his worthless life, from the wrath of\nthe outraged Indians of Ysl\u00e9ta.\n\n\nTO A CHILD.\n\n  You little madonna, so very demure!\n          You draw me, yet awe me:\n          As warning, half scorning,\n  That kissing a face so religiously pure\n  Is almost a sacrilege, I may be sure.\n\n  Yet, awed as I am, I but love you the more.\n          You meet me and greet me\n          Serenely and queenly;\n  And image so sweetly the one I adore\n  When She was a child in the ages of yore.\n\n  Her name it is Mary Regina\u2014your own.\n          You share it and wear it\n          As flower its dower\n  Of fragrance\u2014predestined hereafter, full-blown,\n  To reign with the lilies that circle Her throne.\n\n  Be fragrant for me, then, O lily! and pray\u2014\n          Each hour, little flower,\n          Exhaling availing\n  Petitions\u2014to Mary the Queen of your May,\n  To breathe on my Autumn your pureness to-day.\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n ELEMENTS OF PHILOSOPHY, COMPRISING LOGIC AND ONTOLOGY, OR GENERAL\n METAPHYSICS. By Rev. W. H. Hill, S.J., Professor of Philosophy\n in the St. Louis University. Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. London: R.\n Washburne.\n\nWe are glad to see this anxiously expected volume. The author proves\nhimself quite competent to the most important task he has undertaken,\nand writes with the ease and precision of a thorough student and\npractised teacher of the highest and most necessary but most neglected\nand abused of all the rational sciences, philosophy. In his doctrine,\nhe follows S. Thomas and Suarez, and is therefore necessarily sound in\nhis principles and method. The most subtile, abstruse, and controverted\npoints in respect to which there is the most difference among the\nvotaries of scholastic philosophy, and those topics also where there\nis the best opportunity for the author to display special ability in\nhis explication of doctrines in which all scholastic philosophers\nare substantially agreed, are found in the special metaphysics. The\npresent volume, proceeding no further than general metaphysics, does\nnot enable us to judge of the way in which the author will treat these\nquestions. So far as he goes, we are satisfied with his explication\nof the grand fundamental principles and truths of philosophy, and\nwait with favorable anticipations his second volume. The style is\nadmirably precise and clear, and as neat and elegant as our imperfect\nlanguage will admit in such a treatise. An able correspondent, whose\nletter will appear in our next number, has laid down certain rules in\nregard to this point, and made some pertinent observations in which we\nconcur, and we refer our readers to that forthcoming letter. We think\nhe will find that F. Hill has generally adopted the style which he\nrecommends. We find, so far as we have had time to examine, only one\nword which appears to us open to criticism, \u201ccognoscive,\u201d used in place\nof the term cognoscitive, employed by Cudworth and found in Webster\u2019s\n_Dictionary_. The term _Idea_ also seems to us to need a more full and\nprecise explanation, in connection with the terms _species sensibilis_,\n_species intelligibilis_, _species impressa_ and _expressa_, and\n_verbum mentis_, as used by S. Thomas, which we presume we may expect\nto be given in the treatise on psychology. A teacher who has been\nthoroughly taught philosophy will find this treatise, we think, well\nsuited to the purposes of a text-book. The question, how far teachers\nwho read only English, and are obliged to learn themselves a sound\nsystem before they can teach it to others, or intelligent pupils in\ntheir own private studies, will find the exposition of philosophy in\nthis volume intelligible and satisfactory, can better be answered\nafter a fair trial. The logic has been much shortened and simplified,\nyet includes, we think, all that is essential for training the class\nof pupils who will use the book in the rules of correct reasoning. If\nsomething more is needed for exercise in syllogisms, any of the books\nof logical praxis in common use will answer the purpose. We recommend\nthe adoption of F. Hill\u2019s philosophy as a text-book to all teachers\nin Catholic schools, both male and female, where English text-books\nare used. It is the only English text-book fit for use in teaching\nphilosophy. Our impression is\u2014that it will be found on trial to be an\nexcellent text-book for the higher classes of pupils, and we thank the\nauthor for the great service he has rendered in preparing it, hoping\nthat he will not delay to finish his work.\n\n IERNE OF ARMORICA. By J. C. Bateman. (Fifth volume of F.\n Coleridge\u2019s Quarterly Series.) London: Burns, Oates & Co. (New York:\n Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nThis is an historical novel after the fashion of _Fabiola_ and\n_Callista_. The scene is laid in the time of Chlovis, about the period\nof his marriage to Chlotildis. The author has brought extensive and\naccurate learning into play in this story, which is thus a picture\nof the times it describes. It is also a well-written and interesting\nromance. We think he has made Chlotildis, who is exquisite as an\nideal character, somewhat too perfect for the strict historical truth.\nAlthough a saint, she had a little of the barbarian left in her, before\nshe achieved the full measure of the perfection of Christian meekness,\ngentleness, and charity. All readers will be pleased with the perusal\nof this book. Our young friends in college and convent, who are always\nkeen for a new book for wet days, of which we have had so many of late,\nwill be delighted with this one, and, while they are reading it, will\nforget the disappointment they are apt to feel when their favorite\nprayer, _Donnez nous un beau jour_, is not granted.\n\n SERMONS FOR ALL SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS OF THE YEAR. By J. N.\n Sweeney, D.D., O.S.B. In two volumes. Vol. I. London: Burns, Oates &\n Co. 1873. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\n MARY MAGNIFYING GOD\u2014MAY SERMONS. By William Humphrey, of the\n Cong. of the Oblates of S. Charles. Same Publishers.\n\nThese two volumes of sermons are excellent in regard to matter and\nstyle. F. Humphrey\u2019s little volume is specially marked by a dogmatic\ncharacter. Both will be found serviceable to priests in preparing\nsermons, and to the faithful for their private reading.\n\n SUEMA; or, The Little African Slave who was Buried Alive. By\n Mgr. Gaume, Prothonotary Apostolic. Translated, and with a Preface,\n by Lady Herbert. London: Burns, Oates & Co. (New York: Sold by The\n Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nThe recent mission of Sir Bartle Frere, by the British Government,\nto the Sultan of Zanzibar, with a view to the suppression of the\nslave-trade in East Africa, has attracted American notice. Now,\nalthough government intervention will be able to put a stop to\nthe shipping of slaves across the seas, it cannot interfere with\nslave-labor in Zanzibar itself and the adjoining towns, or prevent the\natrocities of Portuguese and Arab agents who act as traders on their\nown account. Catholic charity, then, has found a way of reaching where\ngovernment influence has no bearing. There is a community in Brittany\nwhich devotes itself exclusively to the education of little negresses,\npurchased from the slavers in the African marts. And, jointly with this\ncommunity, the Fathers of the Congregation of the Holy Ghost and of the\nSacred Heart of Mary, who have founded a mission in Zanzibar, buy up\nas many slave children as they can, and educate them in the Catholic\nfaith. These devoted religious would, of course, be able to do much\nmore in this way had they the pecuniary means at their command. The\nthrilling story of Suema is put forth in order to excite an ardent zeal\nin the hearts of Catholic readers for the purchase of slave-children in\nEast Africa, whereby the curse that has befallen them is turned into a\nblessing. The story is perfectly authentic, the substance of it having\nbeen taken down from Su\u00e9ma\u2019s own lips, translated into French, and sent\nhome by the superior of the Zanzibar mission.\n\nWe are very sure the narrative itself, as also the admirable preface\nand introduction which accompany it, cannot fail to awaken the sympathy\nof our Catholic readers. When, then, they learn that the sum of fifty\nfrancs, or about ten dollars in currency, will purchase a boy or\ngirl of seven or eight in the slave-marts, they will not be slow, we\nbelieve, to contribute towards so glorious a work. And the price of a\nsingle slave-child \u201cwill be received with the greatest gratitude by the\nR. P. Procurator-General of the Congregation of the Holy Ghost and of\nthe Sacred Heart of Mary (who have charge of the Zanzibar Mission), 30\nRue Thomond, Paris, or by Monseigneur Gaume, 16 Rue de S\u00e8vres, Paris.\u201d\n\n A CATECHISM OF THE HOLY ROSARY. By the Rev. Henry Formby. New\n York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\nThis is a neat little book in catechism form containing about 60 pages\nof the most necessary and useful instruction on the fifteen mysteries\nof the Holy Rosary. F. Formby is doing a great work. He is the right\nman just at the right time, and seems to anticipate the wants of priest\nand people. His other books are admirably well calculated to interest\nnot only the youth for whom they were especially intended, but also\nthose of riper years. The little book before us ought to be in the\nhands of every Catholic, young and old. It is also well calculated\nto instruct those who think that our devotion to the Blessed Virgin\nexcludes God and the Saviour from our prayers. All we have to say\nis let any such person read this catechism, and they will be forced\nto admit that the Rosary is nothing more or less than an epitome of\nthe New Testament history of our Lord, and that he is mentioned on\nnearly every one of the pages of this beautiful little book, for the\nappearance of which we thank the Rev. author most heartily.\n\n THE SIGN OF THE CROSS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. By Mgr.\n Gaume, Prothonotary Apostolic. Translated from the last French edition\n by A Daughter of S. Joseph. Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham. 1873.\n\nThis work, which might, to a passing glance, appear fanciful and\nunimportant, is truly philosophical and of rare interest. It comes to\nus not only with the Imprimatur of the Bishop of Philadelphia, but also\nwith a Brief of His Holiness Pius IX., granting an indulgence of fifty\ndays to the sign of the cross, in response to the illustrious author\u2019s\npetition.\n\nThe author is able to say, in his preface to the second edition, that\nthe book has had a wonderful success: \u201cThe first French edition was\nsold in a few months. Three translations of it have been made into\ndifferent European languages\u2014one in Rome, one in Turin, and one in\nGermany. Catholic papers have vied with one another in recommending\nits perusal, and many letters have been sent to us bearing the\ncongratulations of the most respectable men of France and of foreign\ncountries.\u201d He then, after quoting the Neapolitan review, _Scienza e\nFede_, appends a portion of a letter from the Dean of the Catholic\nChair at Rome, and also a circular from the commission charged with the\ncare of the regionary schools, to the effect that the book should be\nread by the pupils, and distributed as a premium.\n\nThe preface to the first edition explains the origin of the\ntreatise\u2014how a young German of distinction, having come to study\nat the College of France, found his companions there laugh at him\nfor making the sign of the cross before and after meals, and so by\nrequesting the author\u2019s opinion of the practice, and of the sign in\ngeneral, occasioned the twenty letters which form the volume.\n\nThese letters exhaust the subject in a masterly way truly French.\nBesides proving over again what has been proved so many times before,\nthe antiquity of the holy sign among Christians, and how the noblest\nintellects of primitive times both taught and practised the use of it,\nMgr. Gaume shows that it was made in some way before Christianity, and\nfrom the beginning of the world. \u201cThe sign of the cross is so natural\nto man that at no epoch, among no nation, and in no form of worship,\ndid man ever put himself in communication with God by prayer without\nmaking the sign of the cross.\u201d Then he gives the \u201cseven ways of making\nit\u201d:\n\n\u201c(1) With the arms extended: man then becomes an entire sign of the\ncross. (2) With hands clasped, the fingers interlaced: thus forming\nfive signs of the cross. (3) The hands joined one against the other,\nthe thumbs placed one over the other: again the sign of the cross. (4)\nThe hands crossed on the breast: another form of the sign of the cross.\n(5) The arms equally crossed on the breast: fifth way of making it.\n(6) The thumb of the right hand passing under the index finger, and\nresting on the middle one: a sign of the cross much in use, as we shall\nsee. (7) And, finally, the right hand passing from the forehead to the\nbreast, and from the breast to the shoulders: a more explicit form,\nwhich you know.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnder one or other of these forms,\u201d he adds, \u201cthe sign of the cross\nhas been practised everywhere and always in solemn circumstances, with\na knowledge more or less clear of its efficacy.\u201d\n\nAccordingly, he proceeds to show, first, how the Jews made it,\ninstancing Jacob, Moses, Samson, David, Solomon, and others. And here\nhe only echoes what the Fathers have observed before him. Next, he\ntells us how the pagans made it, attaching to it some mysterious value.\nThree of the ways of making it were known to them; and these ways,\nbeing universal, were not arbitrary.\n\nSome curious facts of undoubted authenticity are related of the power\nof the holy sign when made even by strangers to Christianity. And this\nsets off its efficacy as it is made in the church. Now, our author\nlaments, and, we fear, with good reason, that the sign of the cross is\nfast becoming obsolete among a large number of Catholics. Those who\nmake it at all, too often make it very imperfectly and carelessly.\nThe object, therefore, of the present work is to revive the ancient\npractice of making the sign frequently and making it thoroughly. And\nit is with the same intention that the Pope has granted fifty days\u2019\nindulgence to it when made reverently and with invocation of the august\nTrinity.\n\n THE ILLUSTRATED CATHOLIC SUNDAY-SCHOOL LIBRARY. 6 vols.\n 18mo, in box. Containing: The Apprentice, and Other Sketches. Mary\n Benedicta, and Other Stories. Faith and Loyalty, and The Chip\n Gatherers. Agnes, and Other Sketches. Lame Millie. The Chapel of the\n Angels. New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\nSensible stories with good illustrations are always welcome to\nchildren. This set of books is well calculated to please the eye and\nsatisfy the tastes of both reader and purchaser. They are excellently\nprinted, handsomely bound in bright colors, and present a variety\nof healthful reading seldom found within the compass of six small\nvolumes. The cuts, from neat and chaste designs by a skilful artist,\nwill attract the attention of every child, and lend additional interest\nto the tales. In the selection and arrangement of the stories, good\njudgment is shown, many of them being now published for the first time.\nAs premiums, no series of volumes could be more desirable for the\nlittle folk.\n\n THE KING AND THE CLOISTER; OR, LEGENDS OF THE DISSOLUTION. By\n the author of Cloister Legends, etc. London: Stewart.\n\nThese legends are well suited to readers of a romantic turn of mind and\nfond of the marvellous and tragical. Being purely Catholic stories, and\nperfectly innocent, our young readers will, we hope, have a good time\nover them.\n\n THE BROTHERS OF THE CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS DURING THE WAR OF\n 1870-71. From the French. With thirty-two Illustrations.\n Westchester: Printed at the Catholic Protectory. 1873.\n\nThis book exhibits Christianity in action. Plato said, \u201cIf virtue\ncould be seen embodied\u201d\u2014he meant in living form\u2014\u201call men would love\nand adore it.\u201d Plato\u2019s dream was realized when Love became incarnate,\nand walked about doing good to the bodies and souls of men; but all\nmen did not adore it. Virtue, to be adored, must be known. The book\nbefore us makes known the cardinal virtue of Christianity, charity,\nby exhibiting her in human form, and telling us, not what she can do\nor should do, but what she _did_ do by the hands of the Christian\nBrothers during the late memorable war between France and Prussia. Of\nthe success of this glorious order in doing the work for which it was\nstarted by its venerable founder, it is not our purpose to speak, but\nof the book which lies before us, and which tells so graphically the\ndeeds of charity and heroism of these Brothers during the terrible war\nof 1870-71. It is translated from the French of J. D\u2019Arsac.\n\nThe mechanical execution of the volume is creditable to the boys at the\nProtectory where it has been brought out.\n\n HAWTHORNDEAN; or, Philip Burton\u2019s Family. By Mrs. Clara M.\n Thompson. Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham. 1873.\n\nThis is a book written by a lady, and it bears in every chapter and\npage the impress of a delicate, sensitive, and refined mind. It cannot\nbe called artistic in the truest sense, for the plot is simple, and\nthe characters are so natural that we feel in reading it that we are\nonly renewing our acquaintance with old friends. The scene is laid in\nthis country, and the actors are Americans, some by birth, others by\nadoption, and in this respect it has the advantage over most of the\nworks of fiction which have issued from the press of late, which, while\ntreating us, or pretending to treat us, to a view of the inside lives\nof Europeans, utterly ignore the fact that at our very door there are\nabundant materials for a hundred novels and romances, still unused and\nneglected.\n\n ISABELLE DE VERNEUIL; OR, THE CONVENT OF S. MARY\u2019S. By Mrs.\n Charles Snell. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co.\n\nThis is a story about life in a convent school, written in an\ninteresting and ladylike style, and with a sufficient number of\nexciting incidents to gratify the well-known taste of young ladies of\nabout the age of Mlle. Isabelle de Verneuil.\n\n LARS: A PASTORAL OF NORWAY. By Bayard Taylor. Boston: James\n R. Osgood & Co. (late Ticknor & Fields). 1873.\n\nThis poem is dedicated to John Greenleaf Whittier. It is fully worthy\nhis acceptance. Besides a delicious freshness which pervades the\nstory, like the air of its rural scene\u2014the leading characters are\nstrikingly delineated. One sees their very faces; while never was\ncontrast more perfect than between Per and Lars, Brita and Ruth. The\nlast, the angel of the piece, is a Quakeress, and the tale seems\nwritten in the interests of that persuasion, yet contains nothing\ndesignedly offensive to a Catholic. The verse, smooth and strong, is\nvery scholarlike, and wisely modelled on Tennyson.\n\n ESSAYS ON VARIOUS SUBJECTS. By Cardinal Wiseman. In six\n volumes. Volumes I. and II. New York: P. O\u2019Shea. 1873.\n\nThis is, in one respect, the most desirable of Mr. O\u2019Shea\u2019s reprints\nof the great Cardinal\u2019s works, inasmuch as it is the only one, of the\n_Essays_, that has yet appeared in this country, and the original\nedition is out of print. It is needless to say aught in commendation of\nthese incomparable writings.\n\n MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE. By A. J. C. Hare, author of _Walks\n in Rome_, etc. New York: G. Routledge & Sons. 1873.\n\nThe life which this book relates was sufficiently quiet, so far as its\nimmediate subject was concerned, to suggest to other than personal\nfriends the sense of tame and insipid, were it not for its association\nwith characters more or less historical. And this reminds us of the\ndifference between Catholic and Protestant biography: whereas the\nlatter is restricted in its range to one country or language, the\nformer embraces within the scope of its interest all nations and races.\nThe record of the obscurest priest, if true to his vocation, may excite\nsympathy in those widely separated from him in time and space: for his\nspiritual life is quickened by the same blood which courses through\nkindred veins in the highest social walks, and among the rudest tribes\nof distant islands; the works of mercy and charity in which he is\nengaged also occupy the thoughts and energies of his brethren in every\npart of the globe; and the same seal which attests his ministry may be\nrecognized in theirs also.\n\nThe subject of this volume, the widow of Augustus W. Hare, was the\ndaughter of a clergyman, and in her maiden years was an intimate\nfriend of Bishop Heber, then rector of Hodnet, England. Her husband,\nhimself a clergyman, was joint author with his brother Julius W., also\na clergyman, of _Guesses at Truth_. The family trace their descent\nfrom Francis Hare, one of the bishops of George II.\u2019s reign, and boast\nof other prelatical and noble connections with the church \u201cas by law\nestablished.\u201d\n\nIt might naturally be inferred, therefore, that the author, a nephew of\nthe subject, would be thoroughly penetrated with Anglican \u201cprinciples,\u201d\nand find all his ideals in the communion to which we are inclined to\nattribute the discovery of the \u201chappy medium\u201d between truth and error.\nBut, alas for the perversity of human nature! he cannot see the schemes\nof Victor Emmanuel through a rose-colored lens. He has the temerity to\nexpress sympathy for the august prisoner of the Vatican; his regret\nfor the dismemberment and spoliation of convents and monasteries\u2014the\ndispersion of their libraries, the interruption of the charitable works\nin which they were engaged, and the appropriation by the government of\nthe dowers which these religious brought with them to their respective\nhouses; the wiping out of many beautiful religious associations, along\nwith the destruction of the monuments with which they were connected.\nHe even has the hardihood to doubt whether there is a moral gain in\nthe freedom now vouchsafed to the vendors of Protestant Bibles and\nthe flood of _popular_ literature, which has signalized the advent of\nthe Sardinian usurper, as we glean from an article by the author in a\nrecent number of _Good Words_.\n\n THE POODLE PRINCE. By Edouard Laboulaye, Member of the\n Institute. Translated by W. H. Bishop. Milwaukee: Office of the\n _Journal of Commerce_. Pamphlet.\n\nThis is a most clever _brochure_, full of wit and humor, which is,\nhowever, only the sparkle of serious thought, for the object of the\nauthor is a serious one. M. Laboulaye is a Protestant and a Liberal,\nbut he is, we believe, one of the most respectable and moderate writers\nof that school, and is certainly one of those who are disposed to be\nrespectful toward the Catholic Church. Writers of this class, though\nthey are deficient in respect to their positive political doctrines,\nare yet often the most effective and powerful opponents of that\nC\u00e6sarism which Catholics have so much reason to detest and oppose. The\npresent _brochure_, which we regret not to have the pleasure of reading\nin its original French, is a satire on Napoleonic C\u00e6sarism, together\nwith a brilliant fancy sketch of what the author dreams of as a happy\npolitical condition for France. The Poodle Prince is king of the\nFly-catchers, and receives his funny appellation from the circumstance\nthat his godmother, a fairy, occasionally turns him into a poodle.\nShe does this whenever he is about to be befooled by his ministers,\nor to make a fool of himself. In his character as poodle, he meets\nwith mishaps and acquires a knowledge of the actual state of things\namong his subjects, which are very serviceable to him, and he finishes\nby becoming a model of what a wise and patriotic prince ought to be,\nand doing what such a prince ought to do, according to the idea of M.\nLaboulaye. This idea is simply that the institutions of the Republic\nof the United States are those which France ought to copy, with, as\nwe suppose the author intends, a nominal monarch and a responsible\nministry, in place of an elective chief-magistrate.\n\nWe agree with him in respect to the end which he wishes to attain,\nviz., the just liberty and prosperity of the mass of the people, by\nmeans of a government which is properly restrained by laws and other\nefficacious checks from tyrannizing over the nation. We do not believe,\nhowever, in transplanting our institutions to French soil. They are\nthe best and the only ones for ourselves, because they have grown here\nnaturally. But we are convinced that France can only prosper under\na monarchy, and that a real one in which the king rules as well as\nreigns. This does not hinder the formation of a constitution and a\nmixed government in which the people have a share as voting citizens,\nand by which the monarchical power is limited, though not destroyed.\nThe Napoleon Dynasty is the creation of the Revolution, and therefore\nwill not do. The Orl\u00e9ans family has compromised with the Revolution,\nand therefore will not do, unless it will renounce the maxims of\n1789, and return to its proper place under the headship of the Count\nde Chambord. The latter, in his avowed principles, gives the best\nguarantee France can have for liberty as well as order. The restoration\nof her ancient monarchy, with Henry V. for king, and the _fleur de lis_\nfor her symbol, with the church re-instated in her complete rights\nand privileges, and with the modifications of political and social\nrelations suited to the present time, is, in our view, the only way\nof realizing that which F. Rami\u00e8re, in his able paper published in\nour present number, points out as the way of salvation for _la belle\nFrance_ \u201c_Le Drapeau blanc c\u2019est un beau drapeau_,\u201d and we hope to see\nit supplant the tricolor, and wave in triumph over regenerated France.\n\nTo return to M. Laboulaye. His exquisite satire has been well rendered\ninto good English by his translator. Whoever reads it, and is able to\nappreciate the finest intellectual sword-play, will enjoy a rich and\nrare pleasure. Moreover, there is so much truth, and good sense, and\ngenuine philanthropic sentiment contained under the envelope of fancy\nand satire, that we can sincerely and conscientiously commend its\ngeneral scope and spirit, and pronounce it a work as well worth reading\nfor a serious purpose, as it is for amusement.\n\n CONSTANCE AND MARION: OR, THE COUSINS. By M. A. B. Baltimore:\n Kelly & Piet. 1873.\n\nThe scene of this little story is laid in Ireland. It is one of the\nbest of the many nice books of the kind which have been recently\npublished, and may be read with pleasure by adults as well as young\npeople. The writers of these unpretending, modest little books are\ndoing more good than they can imagine, and we trust they will keep on\nwriting.\n\n_The Irish Race in the Past and in the Present._ By the Rev. A. J.\nThebaud, S.J., is announced to be published this month by the Messrs.\nAppleton. F. Thebaud\u2019s book has been anxiously expected, as it is\nunderstood to take up a phase of Irish history hitherto neglected\u2014the\n_race_ itself rather than the repetition of the sad events which, in\nthe main, constitute its history, and are only too well known. A book\nof this kind is required for Irish history\u2014one that may serve as a\nlight whereby to see the facts in their true colors, and which must\nprove doubly interesting by reason of those facts having been brought\nso recently before us.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 100.\u2014JULY, 1873.\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\nI. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n\nJEROME SAVONAROLA.\n\nPART SECOND.\n\n \u201cYe fathers! let your children learn grammar, and keep able men as\n teachers who are accomplished, and not players, pay them well, and see\n that the schools are no holes and corners. All should practise grammar\n in some degree, for it wakens the mind, and helps much. But the poets\n should not thereby destroy everything else. There should be a law made\n that no bad poet should be read in the schools, such as Ovid, _De Arte\n Amandi_, Tibullus and Catullus, of the same sort, Terentius in many\n places. Virgil and Cicero I would suffer, Homer in the Greek, and also\n some passages from S. Augustine\u2019s work, _De Civitate Dei_, or from\n S. Jerome, or something out of the Holy Scriptures. And where your\n teachers find in these books Jupiter, Pluto, and the like named, say\n then, Children, these are fables, and show them that God alone rules\n the world. So would the children be brought up in wisdom and in truth,\n and God would be with them.\u201d\u2014_Sermon of Savonarola._\n\nIT was but natural that the striking events of the life of Savonarola,\nand the tragic scenes of the close of his career, should have absorbed\nthe attention of his early biographers to the exclusion of the less\nattractive and more difficult duty of appreciating and presenting\nthe moral and intellectual side of his character. He is constantly\ndescribed by those friendly to his memory as a grand pulpit orator and\nHeaven-inspired reformer; by others, as the sensational preacher and\nextravagant innovator; while little or nothing is said by either of his\nliterary and philosophical acquirements. By turns, and according to\ntheir several views, they exhibit him to us as fanatic and impostor, as\nprophet and martyr, while the figure of the scholar, the philosopher,\nand the theologian remains invisible. It is, nevertheless, but fair\nto say that this arises partially from the fact that a very important\nportion of Savonarola\u2019s literary productions was unknown to his\ncontemporaries and their immediate successors. Modern research has\nbrought to light a large number of which they never heard. Another\ncircumstance has contributed to confirm the mistaken impression\nconcerning him as a man wanting in literary capacity, namely, the\neffort to make of him the enemy of literature by classing him among\nthe opponents of the so-called revival of letters in Europe.\n\nWhat is styled the revival of letters in the XVth century really\nbegan in Italy long before, and was prepared, says Hallam, by several\ncircumstances that lie further back in Italian history. The classic\nrevelation of the XVth century was indeed a revelation to Germany,\nFrance, and England, but not to Italy. The true restorer of classical\nantiquity in Italy, and consequently in Europe, had already appeared\nin the XIVth century, and his name was Petrarch (1304-1374). It was\nhe who first inspired his countrymen with his own admiration of the\nclassic beauties of Virgil and Cicero. The larger portion of his works\nis written in Latin, and he died under the delusion that his _Africa_,\na Latin poem, was his greatest work. A taste for the cultivation of the\nRoman classics grew steadily from this period, gaining strength and\nardor every day, until it became the absorbing passion of all ranks\nof scholars. Even Poggio Bracciolini, usually assigned exclusively to\nthe XVth, belongs partially to the XIVth century. So also does Guarino\nGuarini, the greatest of the early Hellenists.\n\n\nPAGANISM IN LITERATURE.\n\nThe tide of classical enthusiasm was now swollen by the introduction\nof the Greek classics and the emigration to Italy of numerous\ndistinguished Greek scholars. Historians vie with each other in\ndescribing the enthusiastic ardor of the Italians in the cultivation\nof these two great ancient literatures. It amounted to an intoxication\nthat seized upon young and old, laity and clergy, women as well as men.\nThe purely literary advantages to be obtained by so general a devotion\nto classic lore were of course enormous. But in this world, says a\ndistinguished English Catholic divine[138] in referring to the period\nin question, \u201cevil follows good as its shadow, human nature perverting\nand corrupting what is intrinsically innocent or praiseworthy. It was\nnot Virgil, nor Cicero, nor Tacitus, nor Homer, nor Demosthenes that\nwas most read and imitated, but Propertius, and Tibullus, and Apuleius.\nPagan ideas colored men\u2019s thoughts; pagan ethics supplanted Christian\nmorals; pagan theogony was better understood than the Christian\ncatechism; and their influences spread not only through the schools,\nbut to the cloister. Men sought in those classics, not poetry, but\npruriency; not finished style, but abandoned vice; not accountability\nin a hereafter, but nothingness in the future. The Fathers, many of\nwhom wrote for the express purpose of denouncing the heathen immorality\nof these productions, must not be studied, because, forsooth, of the\nuncouthness of their style. Paganism impressed itself on everything,\nand men sought to ignore the road to Calvary that they might enter the\nflowery path of Olympus.\u201d\n\nUnfortunately, the period was most propitious for the introduction and\nspread of this moral poison. For long years, Italy had been demoralized\nby violent factions and bloody wars. Society was disorganized. The\nremoval of the head of the church to Avignon had been fatal to\necclesiastical discipline. The effects of this laxity produced that\nmost frightful of scourges\u2014a corrupt clergy; and although scores of\nvolumes have been written describing with great minuteness all the\ndetails of the rapid march and wide extent of this fatal influence, it\nwould be difficult to present in any shorter space at this day any\nadequate idea of its depth or intensity. Alone and unaided, Savonarola\ndared to attack paganism in literature in its stronghold; for Florence\nwas at that time the centre of the Hellenic and Roman revival, and\nfilled with its most passionate devotees. He thus arrayed himself\nagainst Italy and the spirit of the age. He denounced pagan literature,\nand scouted as absurd the fanaticism for its study. Not the laity\nalone, but the clergy and the hierarchy, came in for a share of his\nstrictures. \u201cIn the houses of the great prelates and great doctors,\u201d\nhe cries out, \u201cnothing is thought of but poetry and rhetoric. Go and\nsee for yourselves: you will find them with books of polite literature\nin their hands\u2014pernicious writings\u2014with Virgil, Horace, and Cicero,\nto prepare themselves for the cure of souls withal. Astrologers have\nthe governance of the church. There is not a prelate, there is not a\ngreat doctor, but is intimate with some astrologer who predicts for him\nthe hour and the moment for riding out or for whatever else he does.\nOur preachers have already given up Holy Scripture, and are given to\nphilosophy, which they preach from the pulpit, and make it their queen.\nAs to Holy Scripture, they treat it as the handmaid, because to preach\nphilosophy looks learned, whereas it should simply be an aid in the\ninterpretation of the divine Word.\u201d\n\nIn another sermon, he says: \u201cThey tickle the ears with Aristotle,\nPlato, Virgil, and Petrarch, and take no concern in the salvation of\nsouls. Why do they not, instead of books like these, teach that alone\nin which are the law and the spirit of life? The Gospel, my Christian\nbrethren, must be your constant companion. I speak not of the book, but\nits spirit. If ye have not the spirit of grace, although you carry the\nwhole volume about with you, it will be of no avail. And how much more\nfoolish are those who go about loaded with briefs and tracts, and look\nas if they kept a stall at a fair? Charity does not consist of sheets\nof paper. The true books of Christ are the apostles and saints: the\ntrue reading of them is to imitate their lives.\u201d\n\nBecause Savonarola thus denounced ancient classic literature, it\nmust not be supposed that he was either ignorant of it or unable to\nrecognize what was really valuable in it. On the contrary, he was\nas familiar with Greece and Rome as his adversaries, and denounced\nonly such pagan authors as were dangerous to morality. He might as\nconsistently have been charged with ignorance of Aristotle, the whole\nof whose philosophy and writings he had, as it were, at his fingers\u2019\nends, because, after denouncing from the pulpit the blindness with\nwhich that philosopher was followed, he would ask: \u201cHas your Aristotle\nsucceeded in proving the immortality of the soul?\u201d\n\nSavonarola\u2019s denunciation of the evil effects of pagan literature is\ntoo often represented as sweeping and indiscriminate, while in point\nof fact he falls short in both these respects of a writer of the XIXth\ncentury who counts a certain number of respectable adherents. We refer\nto the Abb\u00e9 Gaume, who, in a remarkable work published in France in\n18\u2014, _Le Ver Rongeur des Soci\u00e9t\u00e9s Modernes_, maintains that very\nmany of the evils of society that have their origin in the education\nof youth may be traced to the pagan ideas imbibed in the early study\nof the Greek and Roman classics.[139] Savonarola\u2019s position on this\nsubject, in fact, appears to have been substantially the same with that\nof Tertullian, S. Basil, and S. Jerome.\n\nPartial justice has been done to Savonarola as a powerful logician\nand a learned theologian. His intimate knowledge of the Scriptures\nwas something exceptional\u2014not a mere rote knowledge, for it is said\nhe knew them by heart, but a searching and thorough familiarity which\nshowed a wonderful intellectual and spiritual grasp of their body and\nspirit.\n\n\nHIS PHILOSOPHY.\n\nAs a philosopher, he has been credited by all writers with a\nfamiliarity with the systems of Plato and Aristotle, then dominant;\nbut his latest Italian biographer, Villari, shows satisfactorily that,\nin his theological writings, he reasons with so much freedom and\nindependence that he had practically freed himself from the dominion\nof Aristotle.[140] His early biographers made neither attempt nor\npretence to do more than relate the material facts of his career. Later\nwriters, with more attention to his published works, saw more clearly\nhis intellectual power, although his philosophical productions were\nalmost entirely neglected. M. Perrens does indeed direct attention to\nthem, but merely as \u201c_des cat\u00e9chismes sans pr\u00e9tention_.\u201d Rudelbach[141]\nis so engrossed with his sharp search for Protestant ideas that he\ntakes no notice of his philosophical writings. Meier[142] perceives\nthat in philosophy \u201che shows a judgment and critical power of his\nown\u201d; while Poli, in his additions to Tennemann, remarks his order and\nclearness. \u201cNot to acknowledge Savonarola as a powerful logician,\u201d says\nRio, in his remarkable work on Christian art, \u201can accomplished orator,\na profound theologian, a genius comprehensive and bold, a universal\nphilosopher, or rather, the competent judge of all philosophy, would be\nan injustice which history and his contemporaries would not tolerate.\u201d\nThe same author goes on to give him credit for the possession of\nfaculties rarely found united with those which make the logician and\nthe theologian. He says: \u201cOne might imagine without doubt that it\nwould be more just to deny him the possession of that rare gift of an\nexquisitely acute and intuitive perception of the beautiful in the\narts of imagination, which is not always the privilege of the greatest\ngenius, and which supposes a sensibility of soul and a delicacy of\norgans too difficult to meet with, either the one or the other, in a\nmonastic person devoted to the mortifications of the cloister; and yet\nit is no exaggeration to say that both are found united in a very high\ndegree in Savonarola.\u201d The historian Guicciardini, who had made special\nstudy of Savonarola\u2019s works, says: \u201cIn philosophy, he was the most\npowerful man in Italy, and reasoned on it in so masterly a manner that\nit seemed as if he had himself created it.\u201d\n\nAlthough the mass of published works of Savonarola may be truly called\nenormous, very many of his productions never appeared, most of his\nmanuscripts having been destroyed, or, in a few instances, but lately\nbrought to light. Among these latter, Villari mentions a compendium of\nall the works of Plato and Aristotle, regularly catalogued as in the\nlibrary of S. Mark. Some of his smaller treatises also survive, and the\nsame author recognizes the writer\u2019s originality and the bold hand (_la\nmano ardita_) of Savonarola in such passages as these:\n\n \u201cWe must, in all cases, proceed from the known to the unknown;\n for thus only can we arrive at truth with any degree of facility.\n Sensations are nearest and best known to us; they are gathered up in\n the memory, where the mind transforms individual sensations into one\n general rule or experience; nor does it stop here, but it proceeds\n further, and from many united experiences arrives at universal\n truths. Therefore, true experience resolves itself into first\n principles\u2014primary causations; it is speculative, free, and of the\n highest nature.\u201d[143]\n\nSavonarola\u2019s definition of _veracity_, strikingly acute and clear,\nis one not likely to have been made by a man at all weak either in\nphilosophy or moral principle. It is well worth attention: \u201cBy veracity\nwe understand a certain habit by which a man, both in his actions and\nin his words, shows himself to be that which he really is, neither more\nnor less.\u201d This, though not a legal, is a moral, duty, for it is a debt\nwhich every man in honesty owes to his neighbor, _and the manifestation\nof truth is an essential part of justice_. Savonarola was, in fact,\nthe first to shake off the yoke of ancient authority in philosophy.\nHe alone, if we except Lorenzo Valla, who spoke more as a grammarian\nthan a philosopher, dared to declare against it. \u201cSome,\u201d he says, \u201care\nso bigoted, and have so entirely submitted their understandings to\nthe fetters of the ancients, that not only dare they not say anything\nin opposition to them, but abstain from saying anything not already\nsaid by them. What kind of reasoning is this? What additional strength\nof argument? The ancients did not reason thus; why, then, should we?\nIf the ancients failed to perform a praiseworthy action, why should\nwe also fail?\u201d And this sentiment he constantly presents in various\nforms; not in theory alone, moreover, but in practice; not only in the\nspecial discussion of philosophy, but in its practical application. His\n_Triumph of the Cross_[144] which is generally accepted as his greatest\nwork, is an exposition of the whole Christian doctrine by reason alone.\nHe thus states it in his preface: \u201cAs it is our purpose to discuss the\nsubject of this book solely by the light of reason, we shall not pay\nregard to any authority, but will proceed as if there had not existed\nin the whole world any man, however wise, on whom to rest our belief,\ntaking natural reason as our sole guide.\u201d And he adds: \u201cTo comprehend\nthings that are visible, it is not necessary to seek the acquaintance\nof things invisible, for all our knowledge of the extrinsic attributes\nof corporeal objects is derived from the senses; but our intellect,\nby its subtlety, penetrates the substance of natural things, by the\nconsideration of which we finally arrive at a knowledge of things\ninvisible.\u201d\n\nWe have spoken of the large number of Savonarola\u2019s published works.\nThere would not be space in an article like this even for a list of\nhis popular treatises on practical religious duties, of which four\nwere published in one year alone (1492). These were _On Humility_, _On\nPrayer_, _On the Love of Christ_, and _On a Widow\u2019s Life_. With all\ntheir pious fervor, they are marked by strong practical judgment, and\nit is but little wonder that the people of Florence should have been\nenthusiastic in their admiration of a priest who, in all the various\nlines of his duty as teacher, as confessor, and as preacher, was always\nequal to his high calling. His harshest critics have said of him that,\nso violent was the asceticism he taught and preached, he opposed\nmatrimony, and would have turned Florence into a convent. They are more\nthan answered by the following passage from _A Widow\u2019s Life_\u2014_Libro\ndella Vita Viduale_:\n\n \u201cWidows are like children\u2014under the special protection of the Lord.\n The true life for them to lead is to give up all worldly thoughts,\n and devote themselves to the service of God; to become like the\n turtle-dove, which is a chaste creature; and thus, when it has lost\n its companion, no longer takes up with another, but spends the rest\n of its life in solitude and lamentation. Nevertheless, if for the\n education of her children, or through poverty, or for other good and\n sufficient motive, the widow desire to marry again, let her do so by\n all means. This would be preferable to being surrounded by admirers,\n and so expose herself to the risk of calumnies and to a thousand\n dangers. Let the widow who is not inclined to maintain the strict\n decorum, the somewhat difficult reserve, becoming her position,\n rather return to the dignified life of a married woman; but let those\n who feel that they possess strength and temper of mind equal to the\n demands of their state become a model to other women. A widow ought\n to dress in sober attire, to live retired, to avoid the society of\n men, to be gravity itself, and to maintain such severity of demeanor\n that none may dare utter by word or show by a smile the least want\n of respect. By such a life, she will be a continual lesson to other\n women, and will render it unnecessary for a widow to use words of\n counsel by which to acquire influence over others. It is unbecoming a\n widow to be prying into the lives and failings of other persons; it is\n unbecoming for her to be or even appear to be vain, nor ought she, for\n the sake of others, to forget what is due to herself.\u201d\n\n\nSCHOLAR AND POET.\n\nMention has already been made of Savonarola\u2019s devotion to the task\nof teaching the novices of the order, not only by his famous \u201cdamask\nrose-bush\u201d lectures which all learned Florence crowded to hear, but\nhis classes of the humanities and physical sciences. Not content with\nthis, and desiring that the monks of his convent should live by the\nfruit of their own labors, he established schools in which they might\nlearn painting, sculpture, architecture, and the art of copying and\nilluminating manuscripts. He also opened a department of oriental\nlanguages, where Greek, Hebrew, Turkish, and Chaldean were taught. In\nurging their cultivation, he said he hoped that he and his brethren\nwould be sent by the Lord to spread the Gospel among the Turks.\n\nWhen, after the expulsion of the Medici, the Florentine signiory, on\naccount of the financial embarrassments of the republic, resolved\nto sell the Medicean library, there was great danger that this\nmagnificent accumulation, then the most valuable collection of Greek\nand Latin authors known in Europe, and specially rich in the most\nprecious MSS., would be either scattered or fall into the hands of\nstrangers. There was no private citizen in Florence wealthy enough to\npurchase it. Savonarola, who fully appreciated its value, and who had\nalready brought up the library of his own convent to a high standard,\nmaking it accessible to all, and the first free library in all Italy,\nresolved that these treasures should not leave the city. His first\nact of authority as prior had been to enforce the original rule of S.\nDominic as to the poverty of the order. The saint\u2019s last words were:\n\u201cBe charitable, preserve humility, practise poverty with cheerfulness:\nmay my curse and that of God fall upon him who shall bring possessions\ninto this order!\u201d Nevertheless, under certain so-called reformed rules,\nthe convent at Florence had adopted the power of holding property, and\nits wealth in landed possessions had greatly accumulated. Savonarola\u2019s\nfirst reform was to enforce the practice of poverty in the order,\nwhile the absence of landed income was to be supplied by the labors\nof the monks and a yet more rigid economy. It so happened that the\nsale of the convent property, in pursuance of this reform, had just\nbeen made, and Savonarola had at his command a sum of two thousand\nflorins\u2014a large amount for that period. His convent bought the library\nfor three thousand florins, paying two thousand on account, and\nbinding themselves to liquidate the balance, which was a claim held\nby a French creditor, in eighteen months. This transaction occurred\nprecisely during the period of the celebrated bonfire of vanities, at\nwhich Savonarola is unjustly charged with having destroyed innumerable\nclassical manuscripts.\n\nSpace fails us to speak of Savonarola as a poet. Like many other boys,\nhe scribbled verses in his early youth, and wrote a poem, _De Ruina\nMundi_, at the age of twenty. There is something anticipatory of Byron\nin the sadness and gloom of its tone:\n\n  \u201cVedendo sotto sopra tutto il mondo,\n    Ed esser spenta al fondo\n  Ogni virtute, ed ogni bel costume,\n    Non trovo un vivo lume,\n  N\u00e9 pur chi de\u2019 suoi vizi si vergogni.\u201d[145]\n\nWe find in his youthful productions, says Villari, \u201cboth vigor and\npoetic talent, but united with negligence of form.\u201d Later in life,\nhe wrote numerous spiritual lauds, composed for the purpose of\ncounteracting and taking the place of the degrading carnival songs\nin vogue under the Medici. As poetry, they possess no special merit.\nVillari mentions several of his canzoni, written when he was a young\nman, and cites one in praise of S. Catherine of Negri, in three long\nstanzas of fifteen lines each, in which he finds great delicacy and\nexquisite tenderness of feeling. He also refers to some of his Latin\ncompositions modelled on the Psalms, which are eminently poetical. In\none of them, he celebrates the praises of God, saying: \u201cI sought thee\neverywhere, but found thee not. I asked the earth, Art thou my God? and\nI was answered, Thou deceivest thyself: I am not thy God. I asked the\nair, and was answered, Ascend still higher. I asked the sky, the sun,\nthe stars, and they all answered me, He who made me out of nothing,\nhe is God; he fills the heavens and the earth; he is in thy heart.\nI then, O Lord, sought thee far off, and thou wast near. I asked my\neyes if thou hadst entered by them, and they answered, We know colors\nonly. I asked the ear, and was answered that it knew sound only. The\nsenses, then, O Lord, knew thee not; thou hast entered into my soul,\nthou art in my heart, and thou makest manifest thyself to me when I am\nperforming works of charity.\u201d\n\nOwing to his terribly earnest denunciation of pagan excesses in poetry\nand painting, and his indignation at their imitation by Christians,\nSavonarola has been held up as the enemy of both poets and poetry,\nand this even in his own day. To this charge he replied in his work\non _The Division and Utility of all the Sciences_, one part of which\ntreats of poetry. We select a few of its points. He begins:\n\n \u201cIt never entered my mind to say a word in condemnation of the art\n of poetry. I condemned solely the abuse which many had made of it,\n although I have been calumniated on that account by many persons, both\n in speaking and writing.... The essence of poetry is to be found in\n philosophy. If any one believe that the art of poetry teaches us only\n dactyls and spondees, long and short syllables, and the ornaments of\n speech, he has certainly fallen into a great mistake.... The object of\n poetry is to persuade by means of that syllogism called an example,\n expressed with elegance of language, so as to convince and, at the\n same time, to delight us. And as our soul has supreme delight in song\n and harmony, the ancients contrived the measures of versification,\n that, by such means, men might be more readily excited to virtue. But\n measure is mere form; and the poet may produce a poem without metre\n and without verse. This, in fact, is the case in the Holy Scriptures,\n in which our Lord makes true poetry consist in wisdom; true eloquence\n in the spirit of truth; hence, our minds are not occupied with the\n outward letter, but are filled with the spirit.\u201d ... He then goes on\n to denounce \u201ca fallacious race of pretended poets, who know no better\n than to tread in the footsteps of the Greeks and Romans; keep to the\n same form, the same metre; invoke the same gods, nor venture to use\n any other names or words than those they find in the ancients....\n This is not only a false poetry, but one most pernicious to youth.\n We find the heathens themselves condemning such poets. Did not Plato\n himself declare that a law ought to be passed to expel those poets\n from the city who, by the allurements of the most corrupting verses,\n contaminate everything with vile lusts and moral degradation? What,\n then, are our Christian princes about? Why do they not issue a law\n to expel from their cities not only these false poets, but their\n works also, and all the works of ancient authors who have written on\n libidinous subjects and praise false gods? It would be well if all\n such works were destroyed, and none were allowed to remain except such\n as excite to virtuous conduct.\u201d\n\nIt is on such passages as these that Savonarola\u2019s enemies base their\ncharges of enmity to poetry, etc. The charges are unfounded. His\n\u00e6sthetic opinions were in harmony with the purest principles of art,\nand his sense of the true and the beautiful was always acute. \u201cIn what\ndoes beauty consist?\u201d he asks, in one of his sermons. \u201cIn colors?\nNo. In figures? No. Beauty results from harmony in all the parts and\ncolors. This applies to composite subjects; in simple subjects, beauty\nis in light. Look at the sun and the stars\u2014their beauty is in light;\nbehold the spirits of the blessed\u2014light constitutes their beauty;\nraise your thoughts to the Almighty\u2014he is light and is beauty itself.\nThe beauty of man and woman is greater and more perfect the nearer it\napproaches to the primary Beauty. But what, then, is this beauty? It\nis a quality resulting from a due proportion and harmony between the\nseveral members and parts of the body. You would never say that a woman\nwas handsome because she had a fine nose and pretty hands; but when her\nfeatures harmonize. Whence comes this beauty? Inquire, and you will\nfind it is from the soul.\u201d\n\nAddressing himself to women, he said: \u201cYe women who glory in your\nornaments, in your head-dresses, in your hands, I tell you that you are\nall ugly! Would you see true beauty? Observe a devout person, man or\nwoman, in whom the Spirit dwells\u2014observe such an one, I say, while in\nthe act of prayer, when the countenance is suffused with divine beauty,\nand the prayer is over. You will then see the beauty of God reflected\nin that face, and a countenance almost angelic.\u201d\n\nWe have thus endeavored, in referring to Savonarola\u2019s acquirements, and\nby presenting him to our readers in a variety of mental aspects, to\nconvey some idea of the moral, intellectual, and \u00e6sthetic sides of his\ncharacter, in order that, as the story of his life and the account of\nthe exciting incidents with which it is filled progress in our pages,\nthey may be the better able to appreciate his action by at least a\npartial knowledge of his spiritual constitution and mental resources.\nWe resume, then, the thread of our narrative.\n\n\nTHE SERMON AT BOLOGNA.\n\nSavonarola preached his usual course of Lenten sermons in 1493, not at\nFlorence, but at Bologna. His correspondence with his brother friars at\nS. Mark\u2019s during his absence shows that he had gone there unwillingly,\nand it is hence supposed that Piero de\u2019 Medici had brought about his\nabsence through orders from his superiors at Milan and at Rome. The\nfriar confined his preaching to subjects of doctrine and morals, and at\nthe outset attracted but little public attention. The _beaux esprits_\nset him down as \u201ca poor simpleton, a preacher for women\u201d\u2014_uomo\nsemplice e predicatore da donne_. But his animation and sincerity\nwere contagious, and hearers soon came in crowds. The tyrant Giovanni\nBentivoglio then ruled Bologna, and his wife, an Orsini, appeared at\nall the sermons, entering late, and followed by a large retinue of\ngentlemen, pages, and ladies\u2014_gentildonne e damizelle_. The silent\nrebuke of stopping short in his sermon until the disturbance thus\ncaused had subsided was tried by the preacher several times in vain.\nHe then referred to the disedification given by such interruptions,\nand mildly requested that ladies who came to hear the sermon should\nendeavor to be present at its beginning. In response, the haughty woman\nmade a point of continuing the annoyance with offensive and increased\nostentation, until one morning, when thus breaking in upon the friar\nwhile in all the fervor of his discourse, his patience gave way, and he\ncried out: _Ecco, ecco il demonio che viene ad interrompere il verbo\ndi Dio_\u2014\u201cBehold the demon who comes to interrupt the word of God!\u201d\nAll the blood of all the Orsinis boiled over at this public insult. A\nreigning princess to be thus treated by a mere _frate_! As the story\nruns, she ordered two of her attendants to slay him in the pulpit; but\nwhether their courage failed them, or the crowd would not permit them\nto reach the friar, they did not carry out their order. Still enraged,\nshe sent two other satellites to his cell, where Savonarola received\nthem with such dignity and impressive calmness that their resolution\noozed away, and they said with great respect: \u201cOur lady has sent us to\nyour reverence to know if you had need of anything.\u201d To which suitable\nand courteous reply being made, they were dismissed. In his closing\nsermon at Bologna, the preacher announced: \u201cThis evening I shall depart\nfor Florence with my slender staff and wooden flask, and I shall sleep\nat Pianoro. If any person want aught of me, let him come before I set\nout. _My death is not to be celebrated at Bologna, but elsewhere._\u201d\n\nThe legend runs that it was on this journey, when near to Florence,\nthat Savonarola, unable to take any food and broken with fatigue, sank\nby the roadside, powerless to go further. Quickly there came to him the\nvision of an unknown man, who, giving him strength, accompanied him\nto the city gate, and disappeared, saying: \u201cRemember that thou doest\nthat for which thou hast been sent by God.\u201d Each reader will decide\nfor himself as to the degree of credibility to be attached to such a\nlegend. Certain it is, nevertheless, that Savonarola himself and many\nmen of the strongest minds of that day fully believed in it.[146]\n\n\nINDEPENDENCE OF S. MARK\u2019S.\n\nOn his return to Florence in the spring of 1493, Savonarola found a\nworse state of things than he had left on his departure. The rule\nof Piero de\u2019 Medici was rapidly becoming every day less tolerable,\nand the discontent of the people more marked and bitter. One thing,\nhowever, the people knew well. It was that Savonarola was their friend.\nPiero de\u2019 Medici was also perfectly aware of it, and, as he had the\npower, might at any moment through his influence have the Dominican\nprior ordered away to Milan by his superiors in Lombardy or Rome,\nas the Tuscan convents formed one province with those of Lombardy.\nThis union had been brought about some fifty years before by reason\nof the depopulation of the Tuscan convents from the plague. As this\nstate of things had long ceased to exist, and the convents were again\nfull, it occurred to Savonarola to seek the restoration of the Tuscan\nconvents to their original condition of an independent province. In\nhis management of this important and difficult piece of practical\nbusiness, there was nothing whatever of the visionary monk, and he set\nto work with all his energy to carry out a measure in which he felt\nthat the purity and elevation of his order and the liberties of the\nFlorentine people were at stake. The authorization for the measure he\ndesired must of course come from Rome, and, in order to obtain it, he\nsent thither two of his friars, Alessandro Rinuccini, a member of one\nof the most illustrious families of Florence, and Domenico da Pescia.\nThe latter in particular was unreservedly devoted to his prior, ardent\nin his admiration of him, and fully persuaded that he was a prophet\nsent by God. On arriving at their destination, they encountered a\nformidable opposition. Not only the Lombards, but the King of Naples,\nthe republic of Genoa, the Dukes of Milan and Ferrara, and Bentivoglio\nof Bologna, all joined in striving for the defeat of the petition.\nStrangely enough\u2014and it is mentioned by historians as an evidence of\nhis frivolous mind and inattention to serious matters\u2014Piero de\u2019 Medici\nhad been persuaded to favor a measure of which the main object was to\nfree S. Mark\u2019s and its prior from his authority. In fact, Savonarola\ncould not have advanced a step without obtaining his approbation,\ninasmuch as the application of the convent as made could not be allowed\nto be presented without the approbation of the Florentine government.\nIn bringing about this important success, Savonarola had the assistance\nof Philip Valori, and John, Cardinal de\u2019 Medici, a brother of Piero,\nwho afterwards became Pope Leo X. While at Rome, the general of the\nDominicans and Cardinal Caraffa of Naples warmly supported him.\nNevertheless, the two friars of S. Mark\u2019s who had been sent to Rome\nwere dispirited by the formidable aspect of the opposition they there\nencountered, and wrote to their prior that success was impossible, and\nhe must give up all hope of carrying his point. Savonarola\u2019s reply was:\n\u201cAway with doubts! Stand firm, and you will be victorious; the Lord\nscatters the councils of the nations, and casts the designs of princes\nto the ground.\u201d In a consistory of the 22d of May, the Tuscan question\ncame up, but the pope refused to approve the brief, and dismissed the\nconsistory until the following day. All the cardinals departed with the\nexception of Caraffa, who took the liveliest interest in the success\nof the measure, and had a strong personal influence with Alexander VI.\nThey entered into a friendly conversation, during which the cardinal\nproduced the brief, and asked the pope to sign it. With a smile,\nhe declined; when, presuming on his personal familiarity, and in a\nhalf-jesting manner, Caraffa took the pontifical ring from the pope\u2019s\nfinger, and sealed the brief. Just then, in hot haste, came in fresh\nand stronger remonstrances from Lombardy, but the pope replied that it\nwas too late\u2014\u201cWhat is done is done\u201d; and he would hear no more of it.\n\nSavonarola\u2019s first care was to reform and strengthen the discipline\nof his convent, and it was at this juncture that he brought it back\nto the original rule of poverty established by the founder of the\norder, as we have already stated. Then followed the enforcement of the\nstrictest personal economy, the acquisition and practice of useful arts\nby the monks whereby to earn their livelihood, and the study of the\noriental languages. In all his conventual reforms, the new prior taught\nby example as much as by precept. His monks saw that he inculcated\nno principle of which he was not a living model. Sober in his diet,\nascetic in all his habits, of an application to study that seemed to\nknow no fatigue, he inspired all by his labor and self-denial. In all\nthe whole convent, the humblest monk was not more poorly clad than his\nprior. No cell so naked, no pallet so hard, as his. Rigid with others,\nhe was severe with himself. Numerous candidates presented themselves\nfor admission to the Convent of S. Mark, which was now the admiration\nof all Tuscany. The sons of the most distinguished families in Florence\nsought to become inmates of S. Mark\u2019s, and the Rucellai, the Salviati,\nthe Albizzi, the Strozzi, and even the Medici, pressed into the narrow\nlimits of the crowded convent, in order to receive at the hands of\nSavonarola the robe of S. Dominic. Additional buildings were absolutely\nnecessary, and those of the Sapienza were obtained\u2014the same that were\na few years since used for the stables of the grand duke.\n\nUnder the brief lately obtained from Rome, the Dominican convents of\nFiesole, Prato, and Bibbiena, and the two hospices of the Maddalena,\nasked for reception into the Tuscan congregation under Savonarola\u2019s\nauthority, and were admitted. Even the friars of another order, the\nCamaldoli, were desirous of uniting themselves with S. Mark\u2019s, in order\nto be under the rule of Savonarola; but he could not accede to their\nrequest, for want of authority. All this success and honor did not in\nthe slightest degree affect his character. If, during his career, he\nmanifested pride and daring, it was towards the great and powerful. In\nprivate life, and in the interior of his convent, he was to the end the\nsame gentle and humble brother the monks had known as Fra Girolamo.\n\n\nADVENT, 1493.\n\nIt was natural, under the circumstances, that the Superior of the\nTuscan Congregation of Dominicans, the preacher whose predictions had\nbeen so wonderfully verified, the exemplary monk who had been called\nto the bedside of the dying Lorenzo the Magnificent, should enter upon\nthe delivery of his course of Advent sermons for 1493 with increased\nconfidence and far greater freedom of speech than the comparatively\nunknown Fra Girolamo had ever manifested. His audiences grew daily more\nnumerous, and crowds awaited for hours his coming. The twenty-five\nsermons of this course were on the Seventy-third Psalm (_Quam Bonus_).\nHis principal topics were the unhappy and ruinous condition of the\nchurch, the immoral lives of the Italian princes and many of the higher\nclergy, approaching punishments, and the desire of all good men to stem\nthe rising tide of depravity. We have already cited the passages (\u201cThey\ntickle the ears with Aristotle, etc.,\u201d and \u201cIn the houses of the great\nprelates\u201d) in which he denounces the clergy and hierarchy; and he thus\ndescribes the princes of Italy: \u201cThese wicked princes are sent as a\npunishment for the sins of their subjects; they are truly a great snare\nfor souls; their palaces and halls are the refuge of all the beasts and\nmonsters of the earth, and are a shelter for caitiffs and for every\nkind of wickedness. Such men resort to their courts because there they\nfind the means and the excitements to give vent to all their evil\npassions. There we find the wicked counsellors who devise new burdens\nand new imposts for sucking the blood of the people; there we find the\nflattering philosophers and poets who, by a thousand stories and lies,\ntrace the genealogy of those wicked princes from the gods; and, what is\nstill worse, there we find priests who adopt the same language. That,\nmy brethren, is the city of Babylon, the city of the foolish and the\nimpious, the city which the Lord will destroy.\u201d\n\nAnd then, after speaking sharply of a superfluity of golden mitres and\ngolden chalices, he adds: \u201cBut dost thou know what I would say? In the\nprimitive church, there were wooden chalices and golden prelates; but\nnow the church has golden chalices and wooden prelates....\u201d\n\n \u201cWhat doest thou, O Lord? Why slumberest thou? Arise and take the\n church out of the hands of the devil, out of the hands of tyrants, out\n of the hands of wicked prelates. Hast thou forgotten thy church? Dost\n thou not love her? Hast thou no care for her? We are become, O Lord,\n the opprobrium of the nations. Turks are masters of Constantinople. We\n are become tributaries of infidels. O Lord God! thou hast dealt with\n us as an angry father; thou hast banished us from thee; hasten the\n punishment and the scourge, that there may be a speedy return to thee.\n _Effunde iras tuas in gentes_\u2014\u2019Pour out thy wrath upon the nations.\u2019\n Be not scandalized, my brethren, by these words; rather consider that,\n when the good wish for punishment, it is because they wish to see\n evil driven away, and the blessed reign of Jesus Christ triumphant\n throughout the world. We have now no other hope left us, unless the\n sword of the Lord threatens the earth.\u201d\n\n\nTHE DELUGE.\n\nIn Lent, 1494, Savonarola resumed his preaching in a course of sermons\nwhich, as published, have been entitled _Sermons on Noe\u2019s Ark_\n(_Prediche sopra l\u2019Arca di No\u00e9_). It was, in fact, a continuation of\nthe expounding of Genesis begun in 1490. The impression produced by\nthem upon his auditors was very great. All the biographers unite in\ndescribing how the people were carried away, the wonder he excited,\nand how marvellously all that was foretold came to pass. His Advent\nsermons had dwelt on the near approach of punishments\u2014a coming deluge\nof calamities\u2014and he now constructs a mystical ark in which all may\ntake refuge. He prophesied the approach of a new Cyrus who should\nconquer Italy without resistance. At length, on Easter morning, his ark\nbeing completed, he invited all to hasten to enter it with the virtues\nwhich distinguish Christians: \u201cThe time will come when the ark will\nbe closed, and many will repent that they had not entered therein.\u201d\nThus the short chapter of Genesis relating to the ark occupied the\nwhole of Lent, and he resumed the subject in the month of September\nfollowing. On the twenty-first day of that month, he was to expound the\nseventeenth verse, relating to the Deluge.\n\nThe Dome of Florence was crowded. All waited for the sermon in anxiety\nand excitement, but attentive and motionless. Mounting the pulpit,\nand surveying the multitude in impressive silence for a few moments,\nhe thundered out: \u201cAnd behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters\nupon the earth.\u201d A thrill of terror convulsed the vast assemblage.\nPico di Mirandola relates that a cold shiver ran through all his\nbones, and that the hairs of his head stood on end; and Savonarola\nhas recorded that he was profoundly moved. That very day the news had\narrived that a horde of foreign troops were descending the Alps to\nconquer Italy, and popular credulity made their numbers countless,\ninvincible in arms, gigantic, cruel, and ferocious. \u201cHaving, before\nthe arrival of the King of France, just closed the ark, these sermons\ncaused such terror, alarm, sobbing, and tears, that every one passed\nthrough the streets without speaking, more dead than alive.\u201d (_MS.\nhistory in Magliabecchian library._) Terror there was indeed. Italy\nwas helpless. There was neither nation nor national army. The princes\nwere defenceless, and the whole country must fall an easy prey to the\ninvader. Men saw rivers of blood before them. What could save them?\nAll rushed to Savonarola, imploring counsel and help. He alone could\nsuccor them. All his words had been verified. All those whose deaths\nhe foretold had gone to their graves. Punishment threatened had begun.\nThe sword of the Lord had indeed descended upon the earth. Not only\nthe people flocked about him, but the graver men and magistrates of\nFlorence asked his counsel, and his admirers and adherents became in a\nmoment, as if by magic, the rulers of the city.\n\nHere may be said to terminate the monastic life of Savonarola, and, in\norder to follow his career, we must with him quit the cloister, and\naccompany him among the people of Florence down in the public places.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\nPERHAPS PROPHETIC.\n\nIT was the first time for many weeks that Louis had met Eug\u00e9nie alone.\nHe felt greatly excited, and naturally said to himself: \u201cOught I to\nmanifest any appearance of avoiding her?... Or, on the contrary, shall\nI keep on? Any avoidance might make her think unfavorably of me....\nBut would it be prudent to speak to her?...\u201d While thus debating with\nhimself, he looked at Eug\u00e9nie as she advanced towards him, handsome and\ndignified as ever, and as calm as he was agitated. He still kept on,\nyielding to an irresistible attraction without bringing himself to an\naccount for it. As he advanced, he recalled how Fran\u00e7oise had praised\nher. \u201cThat dear woman,\u201d he said, \u201ccould have no interest in deceiving\nme. A soul so upright and pure could only tell the truth. And who has\nhad a better opportunity of knowing Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie?... Well, I must\nstudy this unique girl a little more!... I will speak to her!... I have\njudged her too severely. I must learn her real nature. I must show\nher what I am. She has, I am sure, conceived some suspicion about me\nwhich she may already regret. At all events, my line of conduct here is\nplainly marked out. I am resolved to regain her esteem, and obtain her\nassistance in the good I am doing, in order that it may be done more\neffectually and speedily. Now is the time to make the attempt!...\u201d\n\nAs he said this to himself, he met Eug\u00e9nie. She did not appear at all\nembarrassed as he advanced to speak to her, but said, in a frank,\nnatural tone: \u201cYou have been to see my patient; she spoke of you\nyesterday.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, mademoiselle; I have just come from there. I do not think she\nwill need our assistance long. Poor woman, or rather, happy woman, she\nis at last going to receive the reward she so well deserves!... But\nhow many others there are still to be aided when she is gone!... There\nis so much wretchedness whichever way we turn! If there were only more\nlike you, mademoiselle, to look after the poor!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you also, monsieur. My father has told me something of your plans.\nI will not speak of my approval: my approbation is of little value;\nbut I assure you they please me. Above all, I hope you will not allow\nyourself to be discouraged by difficulties you are likely to meet with.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope, with the help of God, to overcome them, mademoiselle. But the\nefforts of an isolated individual like myself are of little avail,\nespecially when one has had no more experience and is no richer than I.\u201d\n\nThese words were uttered in a tone of frankness and simplicity that\nproduced a lively impression on Eug\u00e9nie. \u201cIf he is sincere in what he\nsays,\u201d said she to herself, \u201cmy suspicions about him are unjust; but\nthis frankness and simplicity of manner are perhaps subtle means of\nblinding my eyes.\u201d She therefore remained on her guard. \u201cAh! monsieur,\nit is not money alone we should give the poor! What they need, above\nall, is advice, which you are much better fitted to give than I who\nhave had no experience of life.\u201d\n\nThere was a tinge of irony in these last words that did not escape\nLouis, but he pretended not to observe it.\n\n\u201cI do not think,\u201d said he, \u201cthat I have had as much experience as you\nsuppose, mademoiselle. However, a Christian seeks aid from a different\nsource than the insufficient arsenal of human experience. What we\nshould, above all, remind the poor of, what we should induce them to\nlove, are the precepts of religion which they may have forgotten and no\nlonger practise for want of knowing their value.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are very pious, it seems, monsieur,\u201d she said, in a slight tone of\nraillery.\n\n\u201cI must put an end to this,\u201d said Louis to himself. \u201cShe seems to\nregard me as a hypocrite. I will prove to her I am not. If she refuses\nto believe me, her persistency in such odious and unjust suspicions\nwill redound to her own injury.\u201d\n\n\u201cMademoiselle,\u201d said he, \u201cI am not very pious, but I desire to be\nso, or rather to become so again, for I was as long as my mother\nlived. She was taken away too soon for my good, for I had need of her\ncounsels and guidance. I have realized it since! You have doubtless\nhad an account of my life. It may be summed up in three words: folly,\ndespair, and return to God. I dare not pledge my word that this return\nis irrevocable: I have given too many proofs of weakness to rely on\nmyself. God, who has brought me back to himself, can alone give me\nthe necessary strength to remain faithful to him. But if I cannot\npromise ever to falter again, I can at least venture to declare that my\nconversion is sincere\u2014so sincere that, having lost all I had, I regard\nthis loss as extremely fortunate, for it was, in God\u2019s providence, the\nmeans of leading me back to the faith. Such a benefit can never be too\ndearly purchased!\u201d\n\nLouis kept his eyes fastened on Eug\u00e9nie as he spoke. She looked up more\nthan once; the expression of his face and the tone of his voice were so\nevidently those of an honest man, that she felt all her doubts give way.\n\n\u201cMonsieur,\u201d said she, \u201cI do not know as I should reproach myself for\nwhat I said with regard to your piety, though I perceive it has wounded\nyou, for it has led to an explanation on your part which....\u201d\n\n\u201cWhich has made me happy,\u201d was what Eug\u00e9nie was about to say, but she\nstopped quite confused as she bethought herself of the interpretation\nhe might give to her words.\n\nLouis comprehended her embarrassment; he saw her fears, and came to her\naid. \u201cWhich you thought necessary, mademoiselle,\u201d suggested he. \u201cI can\nunderstand that. It is rather a rare phenomenon to see a young man pass\nfrom dissipation to piety.\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie immediately recovered her usual serenity. \u201cWell, monsieur,\u201d\nsaid she, \u201cnow I know your intentions and projects; I assure you my\nmother and myself will second them as much as is in our power. What is\nthere we can do?\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me what charitable offices you like the least, mademoiselle, or\nwhat you find too difficult to perform.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is admirable! We have often longed for a representative, a\nsubstitute, who could effect what we were unable to do. But how can we\notherwise aid you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are kind enough, then, to allow me to be the medium of your alms.\nIt is a pleasant office to receive contributions for the benefit of\nothers, especially from people as benevolent as you, mademoiselle. I\naccept the post with lively gratitude, and will at once ask you for\nsome good books for the library I have established for the workmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will bring you twenty volumes to-morrow that are of no use to me,\nand are exactly what you want.\u201d\n\nLouis and Eug\u00e9nie then separated. The interview was short, but it led\nto the very points which enabled them to study and appreciate each\nother better than they could have done in two hours in a _salon_.\n\nThat evening, Louis appeared to his workmen more cheerful and social\nthan usual. He was at last sure of gaining Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s esteem. Without\nacknowledging it to himself, he already loved her to such a degree that\nhe was extremely desirous of revealing himself to her under an aspect\nmore and more favorable. This is loving worthily and heartily.\n\nAs to Eug\u00e9nie, when she entered the presence of the poor woman she went\nto visit, she could not resist the desire of speaking again of Louis.\nAn instinctive, perhaps superstitious, feeling made her believe, as\nwell as he, that this woman, who was dying in so pious a frame of mind\nafter so heroic a life, could not be mistaken in her opinion. \u201cSo pure\na soul ought to be able to read clearly the hearts of those around\nher,\u201d she said to herself.\n\n\u201cHas M. Beauvais been here to-day, M\u00e8re Fran\u00e7oise?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cYes, mademoiselle. I am glad you spoke of him. I do not expect to see\nhim again in this world, and was so taken up with a favor I had to ask\nhim that I forgot to express my gratitude for all his kindness to me.\nEvery day he has brought me something new; but that is the least of his\nbenefits. I particularly wished to express my thanks for all the good\nhe has done me by his conversation. Ah! mademoiselle, how I wish you\ncould hear him speak of God, the misery of this world, and the joys\nof heaven! If I die happy, it is owing to him. Before he came to see\nme, I was afraid of death. However poor we may be, we cling to life so\nstrongly!... Thanks to him, I now feel I cannot die too soon.... I have\ntold M. le Cur\u00e9 all this, and he made me promise to pray for one who\nhas so successfully come to his aid. When I reach heaven, I shall pray\nfor him and for you, mademoiselle. You have both been so kind to me.\nPromise to tell him all this.\u201d\n\nThis testimony, so spontaneous and heart-felt, from a dying person,\nwith regard to Louis\u2019 goodness and piety, and this union of their names\nin the expression of her gratitude, produced a profound and lasting\nimpression on the tender, romantic soul of Eug\u00e9nie. All the way home\nshe dwelt on what had occurred. She began to reproach herself for\nher suspicions\u2014suspicions now vanished. It was not that she loved\nLouis, or even had an idea she might love him, but her noble mind had\na horror of the injustice she had been guilty of towards an innocent\nand unfortunate man. \u201cI will repair it,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cby\nfaithfully keeping the promise I made him.\u201d\n\nThat very evening, she spoke of Louis to her father and mother,\nrepeating the conversation she had had with him, and expressing a\nwish to co-operate in the good work he was undertaking. \u201cIt is a work\nin which we cannot refuse our sympathy,\u201d she said, \u201cfor its object\nis to ameliorate the condition of our workmen\u2014a question that has\npreoccupied us all for a long time.\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie\u2019s object in this was to induce her parents to express their\nopinion of Louis. She particularly wished to ascertain Mr. Smithson\u2019s\nsentiments. He was almost an infallible judge, in his daughter\u2019s\nestimation, and therefore it was with sincere deference she awaited his\nreply. It was the first time she had forced him to give his opinion of\nLouis, or that there had ever been any serious question concerning him\nin the family circle.\n\n\u201cMy child,\u201d said Mr. Smithson, \u201cM. Louis means well, I think. He\nseems to be a considerate person, or at least tries to be. I approve\nof your wish to aid him in collecting a library; but, if he proposes\nyour joining him in any other benevolent enterprise, you must consult\nme before coming to any decision. This young man, I say, has good\nqualities, but he is a little enthusiastic. His ardor just now needs\nmoderating; after a while, it may be necessary to revive it. Let him go\non. We will aid him when we can be of service, but must be a little on\nour guard.\u201d\n\nThe oracle had spoken. Eug\u00e9nie reflected on what had been said. It\nwas evident that Louis inspired her father with some distrust. Mr.\nSmithson, according to his habit, left his wife and daughter at an\nearly hour to work in his office.\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\nA QUESTION.\n\nEUGENIE, being left alone with her mother, resolved to obtain, if\npossible, some light on the question her father\u2019s words had excited\nin her mind. She felt anxious to know why he distrusted Louis. He was\nnow a subject of interest to her. This was not all: she had begun by\njudging him unfavorably; then she reversed her opinion. Now she had\ncome to the point of wishing to repair her secret wrongs against him\nwithout his being aware of it.... But should she carry out her wish,\nor, on the contrary, return to her past antipathy?... On the one hand\nwas the impression left by her interview with Louis; on the other, the\ndepressing state of doubt produced by her father\u2019s reticence. She was\none of those persons who prefer certainty to doubt, whatever it may\nbe. \u201cMy mother must be aware of my father\u2019s real sentiments,\u201d she said\nto herself; \u201cI will ask her.\u201d Nothing was easier. Mme. Smithson and\nher daughter lived on a footing of affectionate equality that I do not\nexactly approve of, but which excludes all restraint.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, \u201cgive me a sincere reply to what I am going to\nask. What do you think of M. Louis?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are greatly interested in this M. Louis, then? You talk of nothing\nelse this evening. What is the reason? Hitherto you have paid no\nattention to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; I am interested in him. I have been studying him. You know I\nhave a mania for deciphering everybody. Well, he is still an enigma.\nYet I am sure of one thing: he is a man to be thoroughly esteemed or\ndespised, not half-way. In a word, he is that rare thing\u2014a character.\nOnly, is he a noble or a contemptible character?... The question is a\nserious one. I wish to solve it, but cannot with the light I now have.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell done! here is some more of your customary exaggeration! Of\nwhat consequence is it, my dear, what he is? He has come here for\nwell-known reasons. Your father was tired of attending to all the\ndetails of the manufactory, and employs him to take charge of essential\nthough secondary duties. He pays him a very high salary\u2014too high,\nin my estimation\u2014but he is pleased, delighted with his aptitude and\nactivity; that is all I care for.\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me, that is not enough for me. I repeat: M. Louis is different\nfrom most men, mother. He is a man, and the rest are only puppets.\u201d\n\n\u201cReally! I should not have suspected it. He seems to me quite\ncommonplace.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut not to me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can you see in him so remarkable?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has, or at least appears to have, an elevation of mind and\nconstancy of purpose that are striking.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, my dear, you make me laugh. Really, if all the gentlemen you see\nwould only adapt themselves a little to your humor, there is not one\nyou could not turn into a hero of romance.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot at all. The proof is that I have hitherto only seen men unworthy\nof any serious consideration. When did I ever acknowledge I had found a\nman of character such as I would like to see?...\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you think M. Louis this white blackbird?\u201d\n\n\u201cI really do.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I confess you astonish me. I never should have dreamed of your\nnoticing him. Perhaps you have taken a fancy to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cMother, we are accustomed to think aloud before each other. I do not\nfancy him\u2014understand that\u2014in the least. I do not even believe I ever\ncould fancy him. This does not prevent me from thinking him, as I said,\ndifferent from other men. Whether in good or ill, he differs from young\nmen of his age. But is he better or worse?\u2014that is the question\u2014a\nserious one I would like to have answered. Till to-day, I have thought\nhim worse.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not possible! The poor fellow has committed some errors, as I\nhave told you. I certainly do not wish to palliate them, but we must\nnot be more severe than God himself: he always pardons.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not a question of his sins.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is the question, then? You keep me going from one surprise to\nanother this evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a question of knowing if he is the man he pretends to be\u2014that\nis, one who has forsaken his errors, acknowledges he has gone astray,\nrepents, and resolves to live henceforth in a totally different\nmanner. If he is such a man; if he can resign himself courageously\nto his modest situation here, and, moreover, has the noble desire of\ncomforting the afflicted, instructing the ignorant, and reclaiming\nthose who have gone astray, I tell you M. Louis is worthy of the\nhighest esteem; we ought to encourage and aid him with all our might.\nBut if he is not the man I think\u2014if these fine projects are only a\nlure, an artful means....\u201d\n\n\u201cA means of doing what?... Goodness! Eug\u00e9nie, you get bewildered\nwith your fancies. Do you imagine he wishes to revolutionize the\nestablishment, and supplant your father?...\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us not exaggerate things, I beg, mother. What I wished you to\nunderstand was a delicate point. I hoped you would guess it from a\nword. Come, have you no suspicion of what so greatly troubles me?\u201d\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t the slightest idea.\u201d\n\n\u201cIndeed!... I am astonished. Well, may he not manifest all this zeal,\nand affect all these airs of disinterested benevolence, to bring about\na secret project?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat one, I ask you again? When you go to dreaming impossibilities,\nyou know I can never follow you. Explain yourself clearly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, since I am forced to call things by their right names, is he not\naiming at my hand?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a droll idea!... Why, he has not a sou left! Everybody knows\nthat. He spent his property in six or seven years, and has nothing\nmore to expect for a long time. So you believe he resolved to become\nreligious, thinking that would be sufficient capital, in Mr. Smithson\u2019s\neyes, to obtain his daughter? I think he has too much sense to imagine\nanything so absurd; especially to give it a serious thought.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if he hoped to please me by this means?... to win my esteem, my\ngood will, my affection?...\u201d\n\n\u201cAll romance that, my dear.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut not impossible.\u201d\n\n\u201cI prefer to think, for my own peace of mind and your father\u2019s, that\nthings will turn out differently. We have never intended you to marry\na man without property. The idea of your having a husband who, instead\nof being wealthy, has squandered all he had, and might spend what you\nbrought him!...\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I understand you: you do not think him sincere.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not say that! He may be changed for the present, but who can be\nsure his conversion will be lasting?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt will if it is sincere; I am sure of that, for I have studied him.\nHe possesses one quality which I either admire or detest, according to\nthe use made of it: he has a strong will. He has been here a month,\nand, having nothing better to do, I have observed him, and have not\ndiscovered a single inconsistency in his conduct. He has always shown,\nexteriorly at least, the same love of labor, the same desire of doing\nall the good he can, and the same unassuming deportment. Either he is a\nman of rare excellence, or is uncommonly artful. I wish I knew exactly\nwhat my father thinks of him.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd why this persistency in discovering a mystery of so little\nimportance?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause I do not wish to despise M. Louis if he is worthy of esteem,\nand it would be wrong not to encourage him in well-doing if he has\nentered on that path with a sincere heart. Besides, I regard what he\nhas undertaken and all he wishes to do as admirable as it is useful. I\nhad been wishing for such an attempt to be made here, and could not be\nbetter pleased than to see my idea so speedily realized. M. Louis is,\nin my eyes, either a saint or a hypocrite. I have no fancy for loving\neither the one or the other; but, if he is a saint, I should feel like\naiding him to a certain degree. After all, mother, is there anything in\nthe world more desirable than to do good to those around us, especially\nwhen we are so situated as to make it a duty? Have you not often said\nso yourself?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right, my dear Eug\u00e9nie. I feel what you say, and approve of\nit. As I advance in years, I feel a constantly increasing desire of\nlaboring for Almighty God, for whom I have hitherto done so little.\nYou need not fear; neither your father nor I have any doubts as to M.\nLouis. Nothing we have observed or have been told leads us to think\nhim a hypocrite. As you desire it so strongly, I will tell you your\nfather\u2019s secret opinion, but do not betray me. He only dislikes one\nthing in M. Louis: he is too devoted a Catholic. It is all in vain:\nwe cannot induce your father to like our religion. Catholics are\ntoo ardent every way, too superstitious, he says. He distrusts the\nengineer because he thinks him overzealous, that is all....\u201d\n\nWhen Eug\u00e9nie went to her chamber, she selected the books she wished to\ncontribute to Louis\u2019 library, and then retired to rest, thinking of\nall the good that would now be done by him, as well as herself, in a\nplace where want and every evil passion were to be found. Her noble,\nardent soul had at length found its sphere. Hitherto she had dreamed\nof many ways of giving a useful direction to her activity, each one\nmore impracticable than the rest. The right way was now open. Louis had\npointed it out. Eug\u00e9nie longed to become the benefactress of St. M\u2014\u2014.\nHer imagination and her heart were pleased. It seemed to her as if she\nhad become another being. She prayed that night with a fervor she had\nnot felt for a long time. Then she fell into a reverie. In spite of\nherself, Louis\u2019 image continually recurred to her mind. Before she fell\nasleep, she murmured a prayer for poor Fran\u00e7oise. Her name recalled the\nlast words of that excellent woman: \u201cIn heaven, I shall pray for him\nand for you!\u201d And circumstances were tending that same day to link them\ntogether as the dying woman had joined their names in prayer. There\nwas something singular about this that struck Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s imagination.\n\u201cCan her words be prophetic?\u201d she said to herself. \u201cSo many strange\nthings happen!... But this would be too much. He pleases me in no way\nexcept....\u201d And she reviewed his good qualities, then blushed for\nattaching so much importance to the thought....\n\nThe next morning, she went with the books she had selected the night\nbefore. Fanny accompanied her. Louis received her with the exquisite\npoliteness he never laid aside but with a cold reserve he had resolved\nto maintain towards her. Their interview only lasted a few minutes.\nFanny, who had been easy for some time, was greatly astonished when\nasked to accompany her mistress to the engineer\u2019s office. Their\nconversation showed they had recently seen each other, but under\nwhat circumstances she could not make out. All this redoubled her\nsuspicions. On her way home with Eug\u00e9nie, she remarked:\n\n\u201cThat M. Louis is a charming young man; more so than I had supposed.\nWhat respect he showed mademoiselle! I am sure mademoiselle judges him\nwith less severity than she did several weeks ago.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have never judged him with severity,\u201d replied Eug\u00e9nie, with that\nlofty coolness which made those who did not know her accuse her of\npride. \u201cWhy should I judge M. Beauvais? that is my father\u2019s business.\u201d\n\nFanny returned to the assault: \u201cThat is a queer notion of his to wish\nto instruct all those ignorant people. Much good will it do them! The\nmore they know, the more dangerous they will be!...\u201d\n\n\u201cFanny, you should address such observations to M. Louis or my father.\nIt is they who have founded the library and school, and they intend\ndoing many other things without consulting you, I imagine.\u201d\n\n\u201cCommon people sometimes give good advice.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they should give it to those who need it. All this does not\nconcern me, I tell you again.\u201d\n\n\u201cO the deceitful girl!\u201d said Fanny to herself when alone in her chamber\nthat night. \u201cI always said she would deceive me. Where could she have\nseen him?... Is she already in love with him?... She is capable of\nit! But I will watch her narrowly, and, if it is not too late, will\ncounteract her projects! I have a good deal to contend with, however.\nThis M. Louis is an artful fellow. And on the other hand, it is no\neasy matter to lead Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie.... I only hope she is not yet in\nlove with him!... If she were to marry him instead of her cousin, I\nshould go distracted.... Poor Albert! if he knew what is going on here.\nFortunately, I am on the spot to watch over his interests. And there is\nmore reason than ever to be on the lookout.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\nLOVE WITHOUT HOPE.\n\nLOUIS came to see us as often as his occupations allowed. He made\nus a long call the very day after Eug\u00e9nie gave him the books for\nhis library, and seemed more excited than usual. He related his\nconversation with Mr. Smithson, and spoke of his pleasure at meeting\nEug\u00e9nie and regaining her good opinion by a frank explanation of his\nplans and the motives by which he was influenced.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Victor, \u201cdoes she continue to please you?\u201d\n\n\u201cMore than I wish.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy this regret?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is only reasonable. My happiness is involved in being pleased with\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, I see we shall not be able to agree on this point.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, my dear friend; the more I reflect, the plainer it is that I\nought not to become attached to her; at least, to make her aware of it,\nshould such a misfortune happen. But I will not conceal it from you: I\nfear I already love her....\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are decidedly tenacious in your notions. Why do you torture\nyourself with scruples that are evidently exaggerated?...\u201d\n\n\u201cAll your friendly reasonings are of no avail. However disinterested\nmy love might be, it would seem to her only the result of calculation;\nthis is enough to justify me in my apprehensions.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot agree with you. Delicacy of sentiment is a noble thing, but\nit must not be carried to excess. I am willing you should conceal your\nlove for her till you can prove it sincere; that is, not the result of\ncalculation\u2014I will go still further: till the time comes when they\nvoluntarily render homage to the nobleness of your intentions. But\nwhen that day comes, and you see that Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie esteems and loves\nyou....\u201d\n\n\u201cShe will never love me.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you know?\u201d\n\n\u201cMlle. Smithson has rare qualities which make her the realization of\nall my dreams, but I see I am not pleasing to her. Before any change\nin her sentiments is possible, she will have another suitor with more\nto offer her than I, and without a past like mine to frustrate his\nhopes. He will please her, and I can only withdraw. Well, I confess I\nwish to reserve one consolation for that day, feeble as it may be\u2014the\nsatisfaction of being able to say to myself: \u201cShe did not know I loved\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy poor friend, you take too gloomy a view of the future.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not imagine my fears will result in a dangerous melancholy. I\nrealize more fully than you may suppose the advantages of my present\nposition. I might at this very moment be in another world\u2014a world of\ndespair.... To us Christians, such a thought is full of horror. Instead\nof that, I see the possibility of repairing the past, and of doing\nsome good. When I compare my present life with that I was leading a\nyear ago, the favorable contrast makes me happy! I had discarded the\nfaith, lost the esteem of upright men, and given myself up to ignoble\npleasures!\u2014useless to the world, an object of disgust to myself. I had\nnot the courage to look at myself as I was. How all that is changed!\nHow happy I ought to be!... But, no; the heart of man is at once weak\nand insatiable. At a time when I ought to be happy, I am so weak as\nto yield to a love I should have denied myself. If I cannot overcome\nit, it will be a source of new regret. I know there is one means of\nsafety, or perhaps there is\u2014that of flight.... But, no; I will not, I\ncannot thus ensure a selfish security. It would be cowardly to recede\nbefore the noble work God has assigned me. There is no doubt now as to\nmy future usefulness at Mr. Smithson\u2019s. I could not find elsewhere the\nsame facilities for doing the good I long to effect. I will remain....\u201d\n\n\u201cI will not assert it would be cowardly to leave, but a man as\ncourageous as you are and have need to be ought to remain at his post\nat whatever cost. Like you, I believe that is the post to which God\nhimself has called you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall remain.... You cannot imagine how happy I am there when my\nheart is not agitated. Provisions are dear this year, and we have\nquite a number of hands forced by want to leave Paris. These two\nthings combined have produced unusual demoralization among the men\nwe employ. Some give themselves up to drunkenness by way of relief;\nothers, listening to the evil suggestions of hunger, conceive an inward\nhatred against those who are rich. There are a few ringleaders, and\na good many disaffected men, all ready to yield to the most criminal\nproposals. Mr. Smithson is aware of this, and therefore fully approves\nof my plan for the amelioration of so mixed a set. I must do him the\njustice to acknowledge he has been generous. His wife and daughter\nare still more so. I shall therefore remain as long as I can. I only\nbeseech God for one favor\u2014to bless my efforts, and give me the courage\nnecessary to make the great sacrifice if it be required....\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! then you really love Mlle. Smithson. I thought at the most you\nwere only afraid of loving her.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I will no longer keep this secret to myself; it is too great a\nburden to bear alone. Besides, this concealment would not be worthy of\neither of us. I was still in doubt this morning, but have since read\nthe state of my heart more clearly. And this is what enabled me to do\nso:\n\n\u201cI returned home from church this morning with Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie and her\nmother. The church, you know, is a kilometre and a half from the mill,\nbut the road is delightful. On coming out of church, Mme. Smithson,\nwho is an excellent woman, and quite pleasant and easy in her manners,\ninvited me, as it were, to accompany them. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie at first\nremained apart with her waiting-maid, but still near enough to hear\nwhat we said. We first discussed the things suitable to give the poor,\nand the utility of familiar conversation with them in their houses. I\nexpressed a determination to perform this act of charity as often as\npossible. I begged Mme. Smithson to mention the families she thought it\nadvisable to visit in this way, as she knows them better than I. She\npromised to give me a list. Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie then drew near, and said she\nwould add a few names to it; then, taking a part in the conversation,\nand even directing it with the grace she shows in everything, she spoke\nin turn of charity, religion, and literature with an elevation of\nthought and in such beautiful language that it was a pleasure to listen\nto her. From time to time we stopped to look, now at one object, and\nthen at another\u2014the large trees by the wayside, the bushes, or the\ncottages. Mlle. Smithson found something charming to say of everything.\nWe were half an hour in going a distance we might have accomplished in\ntwenty minutes\u2014a delightful half-hour, but it had its bitterness, as\nall my joys will henceforth have. I see it is the will of God that I\nshould expiate my offences. Like you, I am persuaded that the privilege\nof doing good\u2014the most desirable of all privileges\u2014is only to be\npurchased at the price of suffering.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said Victor; \u201cbut at the price of what suffering? Who can assure\nyou it is that of which you are thinking?... That is a secret known\nonly to God.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true, but I am sure I had to-day a foretaste of the suffering\nI allude to. She was there beside me\u2014that beautiful young girl\nwho would be a model of feminine excellence did she not lack one\nquality\u2014piety\u2014a piety more womanly, more profound, and more simple.\nShe said many striking things\u2014things that go straight to the heart:\nthere was perfect sympathy between her soul and mine, but I watched\nover myself that I might not betray the admiration, the delight,\nthe emotion, with which I listened to her! In the expression of her\neyes, the tone of her voice, and whole manner, I could see, alas! how\nindifferent she was towards me; that she regarded me as her father\u2019s\nagent\u2014a mere employ\u00e9, worthy only of passing attention.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow do you know? You are so accustomed to reading hearts that perhaps\nyou take imagination for reality.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not think so.... She has changed towards me, I acknowledge. She\nregards me as a sincere, upright person. I know how to keep in my\nplace, but there she allows me to remain, and will continue to do so.\u201d\n\nLouis was extremely agitated when he left us that evening. My poor\nVictor, ill as he was, and he was now worse than ever, was thoughtful\nand sad for some time after Louis had gone.\n\n\u201cWhat is the matter?\u201d I asked.\n\n\u201cI am thinking of Louis,\u201d he replied. \u201cI fear things may turn out badly\nfor our poor friend. I do not know whether he will ever marry Eug\u00e9nie\nor not; but I have a presentiment, I know not why, that this love is to\ncause him great suffering. And yet this attachment could not fail to\nspring up. If it is God\u2019s will that Louis should pass through a severe\ntrial, promise me to stand by him.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut you will also stand by him?\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall no longer be here.\u201d\n\nSad words! they were soon to be verified. Meanwhile, the hour of trial\nwas approaching our poor friend\u2014the trial he himself had foreseen.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\nA SOUBRETTE\u2019S PLOT.\n\nMEANWHILE, Fanny was preparing sad hours for Louis.\n\nLouis thought Eug\u00e9nie maintained great reserve during the conversation\nthat took place on their way home from church\u2014so insatiable is one who\nloves! But Fanny received quite a different impression. Never had she\nseen her mistress so inspired, or converse with so much fluency and\nanimation. Mme. Smithson\u2019s kindness towards Louis, the appreciatory\nremarks she and her daughter made after their return home, and the\ndry, haughty manner with which Eug\u00e9nie put Fanny in her place when she\nattempted to speak of the engineer, all excited the cunning servant\u2019s\nsuspicions in the highest degree.\n\n\u201cThere is nothing lost yet,\u201d she said to herself; \u201cperhaps there has\nbeen no danger of it. Mademoiselle is not in love with him now, but\nshe may be soon, if care is not taken. To delay any further would risk\neverything. I will hesitate no longer. How M. Albert would reproach me\nwere I to warn him too late! How much I should reproach myself! Instead\nof having that excellent boy, so dear to me, for a master who would\nallow me to govern his house in my own way, I should be the humble\nservant of this gentleman, who is by no means pleasing to me, and who\nappears determined to make everybody yield to him. He is humble for the\nmoment, because he has nothing; but I can read in his eyes: the day\nhe is master here it will be in earnest. I shall then have to start.\nThat would be distressing. There is only one way of avoiding such a\nmisfortune: I must hasten to write Albert\u2019s mother!\u201d\n\nSo saying, Fanny seated herself at her table. An hour after, her\n_chef-d\u2019\u0153uvre_ was completed. She reminded Mme. Fr\u00e9min, her old\nmistress, of the affection she had always cherished for her and her\nson\u2014which was true; she spoke of having wished for several years\nto see Albert marry Eug\u00e9nie, and pointed out the perfect harmony of\ntaste there was between the two cousins. This point, however, remained\nproblematical. Fanny added that she should not be happy till the day\nshe saw her two dear children united and established, and she herself\nliving with them, entirely devoted to their interests.\n\nLike all shrewd people, the _soubrette_ reserved the most important\ncommunication for the end of her letter. She then remarked that Mlle.\nEug\u00e9nie seemed to be tired of the country, and it was time for Albert\nto offer himself; for, if another suitor appeared first, which she\ninsinuated was by no means improbable, Albert might regret his delay.\nShe had serious apprehensions.... Albert must really come. She would\ntell him all; he would never regret having undertaken the journey. But\nhe must be careful, if he came, not to mention that she, Fanny, had\nurged him to do so. If she wrote thus, it was only because she was in\na manner constrained by her affection for Albert and Eug\u00e9nie. He must\ntherefore be careful not to risk everything by his indiscretion....\n\nThis letter, carefully corrected and copied, was taken to the\npost-office in town the next day. No one suspected Fanny had written\nto Tante Fr\u00e9min. It is useless to speak of the impatience with which\nshe waited to see what her _prot\u00e9g\u00e9_ would do. She trembled at the idea\nthat he might not be roused till it was entirely too late to come.\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\nA GLEAM BEFORE THE STORM.\n\nA WEEK after, Louis was again invited to dine at Mr. Smithson\u2019s,\nwhose birthday they were to celebrate. The only people invited out of\nthe family were the doctor and the _Cur\u00e9_ of St. M\u2014\u2014. The _cur\u00e9\u2019s_\ninvitation was an affair of importance, as you will see.\n\nMr. Smithson, as I have remarked, was an Englishman by birth. He had\nbeen induced by two motives to settle permanently in France when about\nthirty years of age: the climate suited his constitution better than\nthat of his own country, and he could live more at his ease on the same\nincome than he could in England.\n\nTaking a house in Paris occupied by several tenants, his attention was\ndrawn towards a young girl employed in a mercer\u2019s shop on the ground\nfloor of the same building. This girl was no other than the present\nMme. Smithson. She lived with her mother, who was in comfortable\ncircumstances, but made no pretensions. They were very estimable\npeople, and gave the rich Englishman to understand that he could\nonly be admitted as a visitor on condition of acknowledged serious\nintentions. Mr. Smithson at first hesitated. The girl was not rich, she\nbelonged to a class he considered inferior to his own, and, what was\nmore, they were of different religions. But it was too late to call\nreason to his aid. For six months he had felt a constantly increasing\nlove for her. He therefore offered her his hand, merely requiring one\nconcession on her part before he could marry her: she must embrace\nthe religion he professed himself. Neither of the women who listened\nto this proposition was pious, but they did not lack faith, and they\nfulfilled the absolute commands of the church. They therefore replied,\nwithout a moment\u2019s hesitation, that Mlle. Suzanne could not give up her\nreligion for the sake of marrying him. At this, Mr. Smithson hesitated\nanew, but, as before, love carried the day. He renewed his offer,\npromising not to interfere with Suzanne\u2019s religious belief if she\nwould become his wife. He only made one condition to their marriage:\nthey should respectively practise their religion without making any\nattempt to convert each other. As to the children, the boys must be\nbrought up in their father\u2019s belief, the daughters in that of their\nmother. Deplorable arrangement! showing the shameful indifference of\nboth parties, or their foolish and culpable inconsistency. You know\nthe church expressly forbids such concessions. It only tolerates mixed\nmarriages on a precisely contrary condition: the parties to be married\nmust pledge themselves that their offspring shall be brought up in the\nCatholic religion. I do not know how Mlle. Suzanne, in becoming Mme.\nSmithson, found means to evade this new difficulty. It is possible\nthat, through ignorance or culpable weakness, she yielded to the terms\nwithout acknowledging it to any one. She doubtless hoped, when the time\ncame for testing the arrangement, to find some means of extricating\nherself from it. At all events, they were married. Mr. Smithson\nremained an Anglican, and, astonishing to say, a thorough one. His\nattachment to the Church of England was easily explained by those who\nknew him. He still cherished an ardent love for his country, and almost\nreproached himself for leaving it. His fidelity to the English Church\nwas a last testimony of attachment to the country he had abandoned.\n\nWhen Eug\u00e9nie was born, her father manifested a temporary sullenness and\nill humor at her baptism that frightened Mme. Smithson. Nevertheless,\nshe was firm. Eug\u00e9nie was brought up very strictly, and her father\ngradually became accustomed to her being a Catholic, to see her\npractise her religion, and even hear her speak of it with enthusiasm,\nfor she was enthusiastic on all great themes.\n\nThese were, it must be said, the only concessions Mr. Smithson made to\nthe true faith. He never entered a Catholic church. He even refused\nto acknowledge that which its very enemies are forced to concede\u2014the\ngrandeur and utility of the enterprises she alone successfully\nachieves; the efficacious assistance she renders each one of us at\ncritical moments in our lives; and the happiness\u2014earthly happiness\neven\u2014that she bestows on all who are faithful to her teachings.\nBut the decided stand Mr. Smithson took against the true faith was\nspecially manifested by his antipathy to the priesthood. Though he had\nlived a year and a half at St. M\u2014\u2014, he had never had any intercourse\nwith the Abb\u00e9 Bonjean, the _cur\u00e9_ of the commune. Mme. Smithson\nand her daughter went to High Mass every Sunday, made the _cur\u00e9_ a\nbrief call on New Year\u2019s Day, and went to confession at Easter\u2014that\nwas all. I had some reason, therefore, to say it was a thing of no\nsmall importance to see the _abb\u00e9_ at Mr. Smithson\u2019s table. What had\neffected such a change in the mind of this dogmatic Englishman?...\nHad his daughter begged it as a favor?... By no means. Eug\u00e9nie was\nnot pious enough to care for the society of the _cur\u00e9_.... Had Mme.\nSmithson ventured to break the compact which forbade her broaching,\neven remotely, the subject of religion to her husband? Still less\nlikely. Madame had not the courage unless forced to revolt against some\nenormity like apostasy. What led Mr. Smithson to invite the _abb\u00e9_\nwas the result of his own reflections. Since he had taken charge of\na manufactory, and been brought in contact with a large number of\nworkmen, some poor and others corrupt, he had felt an increasing\ndesire of being useful to them, both morally and physically. Mr.\nSmithson had really a noble heart. Catholic benevolence excited his\nadmiration more than he confessed. It caused him to reflect, though he\nwas careful not to reveal his thoughts. These salutary reflections had\ngradually convinced him that, if he wished to reform the place, he must\nobtain the aid of some one not only of good-will like Louis, but of\nincontestable moral authority.... Where find a person with more means\nthan the _cur\u00e9_?... With the extreme prudence habitual to him\u2014and he\nwas more cautious now than ever, as it was a question of a priest\u2014he\nwas desirous of studying his future co-laborer. He could not help it;\nthis black-robed man inspired him with distrust. \u201cI will begin by\nstudying him,\u201d he said to himself; \u201cand, for that, he must come to my\nhouse.\u201d This plan decided upon, he acted accordingly. Without telling\nany one of his secret intention, without even giving a hint of it,\nexcept to his wife and daughter at the last moment, he invited the\n_abb\u00e9_.\n\nLouis had already begun to understand his employer\u2019s prejudices, and\nwas therefore extremely astonished when he arrived to find the _cur\u00e9_\nhad been invited. But his astonishment was mingled with joy. He had\nalready become acquainted with the _abb\u00e9_, and had been to confession\nto him more than once, and had more than one conversation with him. The\n_cur\u00e9_ was even aware of all Louis\u2019 plans, and, as may be supposed,\ngave them his entire approbation.\n\nThere was some stiffness and embarrassment as the guests seated\nthemselves at table, and looked at one another; but, after a few\nmoments, the genuine simplicity of the _abb\u00e9_, who was no fool, and the\ndoctor\u2019s facetiousness, broke the ice. Mr. Smithson alone maintained\nhis usual reserve. He had sent for the _abb\u00e9_ that he might study his\ncharacter, and he was not neglecting it. As to Louis, seated opposite\nEug\u00e9nie, he seemed to emulate the wise man of the Scriptures who had\nmade a compact with his eyes and his tongue. He tempered the fire of\nhis eye, restrained his flow of words, and courageously filled the part\nhe had imposed on himself\u2014that of a man serious unto coldness, calm\nunto insensibility.\n\nEverything passed off very well till the dessert. Mr. Smithson then\ndirected the conversation to the condition of his workmen, and spoke of\nhis desire to ameliorate it. Eug\u00e9nie warmly applauded what her father\nsaid; she spoke of some visits she had made, and gave many interesting\ndetails respecting the families she had assisted.\n\nThe good _abb\u00e9_ had, alas! one fault. Priests have their faults as well\nas we\u2014fewer, without doubt, but still they have some. The _cur\u00e9\u2019s_\ndefect was a want of prudence. He was agreeable in conversation, and\nhad the best intentions in the world, but he did not weigh his words\nsufficiently. He never troubled himself about the interpretation,\nmalevolent or otherwise, that certain people might give to them. He\nwas a good man, but not sufficiently mindful of our Saviour\u2019s counsel\nto be wise as a serpent and simple as a dove. He was amiable and\nsincere, but lacking in discretion: that was a misfortune. At a time\nof religious indifference and of impiety like ours, more than usual\nprudence is necessary for all who love their religion: the impious are\nso glad to find a pretext for their calumnies! The _abb\u00e9_ now began\nin the heartiest manner, and very sincerely too, to compliment Mr.\nSmithson for all he had said, and Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie for all she had done.\nHe gave a thrilling but true sketch of the ravages want and immorality\nwere making among the working-classes, and dwelt on the necessity of\nan immediate and efficacious remedy. All this was proper. There was\nnothing so far to criticise. But the _abb\u00e9_ should have stopped there.\nHe had, however, the indiscretion to keep on, adding many things ill\nadapted to those before whom he was speaking. \u201cI know what remedies are\nnecessary,\u201d said he; \u201cand who of us does not? They are\u2014instruction to\na certain degree, visiting the poor in their houses, dropping a good\nword, and, above all, the infinite service of leading them back to the\nholy Catholic religion, which alone knows how to influence the heart\nof man, and inspire benevolent souls with the wisdom and perseverance\nnecessary for perfecting their noble enterprises. I hope I wound no\none\u2019s feelings in expressing myself thus. What I have said is only a\nwell-known truth, readily acknowledged by a multitude of upright souls\nwho have not, however, the happiness of belonging to us.\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson said nothing. He felt the shaft, however blunted, that\nwas aimed so directly at him. The _cur\u00e9_ himself seemed conscious of\nhaving gone too far in the ardor of his untimely zeal. The Englishman\nwas one of those men who only retort when obliged to: he remained\nsilent. The poor _cur\u00e9_ hurt himself still more by enthusiastically\neulogizing Louis a few minutes after in these words: \u201cM. Louis, by\nanother year, you will have shown yourself the good angel of the whole\ncountry around.\u201d\n\nThis appeared exaggerated to Mr. Smithson. It excited his jealousy,\nalready awakened. He imagined he saw proofs of an understanding\nbetween the _cur\u00e9_ and the engineer in this unfortunate remark. Their\nunderstanding had an evident aim, in Mr. Smithson\u2019s eyes, to diminish\nhis moral influence, and even suppress it. \u201cThat is the way with\nCatholic priests,\u201d he said to himself. \u201cThey are ambitious, scheming,\neager to rule, and knowing how to find accomplices everywhere.\u201d The\n_cur\u00e9_ and Louis thenceforth became objects of suspicion, though he was\ncareful not to show it outwardly.\n\nLouis had begun to understand human nature, and at once realized all\nthe imprudence of the _cur\u00e9\u2019s_ remarks. He foresaw the bad effect they\nwould have on the master of the house. He tried in vain, by some adroit\nturn in the conversation, to lessen, if not to annul, the unfortunate\nimpression the _abb\u00e9\u2019s_ conversation might have produced. The _cur\u00e9_\npersisted in his opinion, and only added to his previous blunder. Louis\nfelt he should not gain anything, and stopped short with so distressed\nan air that it was pitiful to see him.\n\nMr. Smithson, led away by his prejudices, thought Louis\u2019 depression\nthe consequence of his accomplice\u2019s betraying so awkwardly the secret\ntie between them. \u201cThe engineer is, perhaps, the more dangerous of\nthe two,\u201d he said to himself. \u201cI should never have suspected their\nplan, had it not been for the _abb\u00e9\u2019s_ imprudent frankness.\u201d Hence he\nconcluded there would be more need than ever of keeping an eye on his\nsubordinate.\n\nEug\u00e9nie, though not pious, understood her religion too well, and loved\nit, or rather, admired it too much, to be astonished at what the _cur\u00e9_\nhad said. She thoroughly agreed with him, but, as the conversation\nbecame serious, she only attended to the most important points, and\npaid but little attention to the _abb\u00e9\u2019s_ imprudent remarks. The\npraise he bestowed on Louis did not seem to her excessive. She rather\napproved than condemned it. She did not, therefore, suspect the cause\nof Louis\u2019 sadness, but attributed it to a want of ease naturally\noccasioned by the inferior position into which he had been thrown\nby his misfortunes. More than once she came to his aid, politely\naddressing the conversation to him. Seeing him still preoccupied, she\nended by proposing after dinner that he should sing something to her\naccompaniment. Louis excused himself. \u201cI insist upon it,\u201d she said, in\na tone of sweet authority that instantly transported him into a new\nworld. He forgot the _cur\u00e9\u2019s_ imprudence, its probable effect on Mr.\nSmithson, and his own difficult position. The first time for a long\nwhile\u2014ten years, perhaps\u2014he had one of those moments of cloudless\nhappiness that rarely falls to man\u2019s lot, and can never be forgotten.\nIt seemed as if a mysterious, ravishing voice whispered that Eug\u00e9nie\nwas beginning to love him. At least, he no longer doubted for the\nmoment the possibility of her loving him some day. Louis had the soul\nof an artist, and possessed undoubted talent, and he sang that evening\nas he had never sung in his life.\n\nWhen the song was ended, he turned toward Eug\u00e9nie, and read in her eyes\nsincere astonishment and admiration, but nothing else. All his doubts,\nall his sadness, revived. An instant before, his heart overflowed\nwith joy: now he was so cast down that he was alarmed, and wondered\nwhat misfortune was going to happen to him. I am not exaggerating:\nardent natures often pass through such alternations of extreme joy\nand sadness. The evening passed away without any new incident. Before\nmidnight, the guests returned home, and were free to yield to their own\nthoughts. The few hours just elapsed had modified the sentiments of all\nwho had dined together at Mr. Smithson\u2019s.\n\nEug\u00e9nie, without allowing it to appear outwardly, had also had one\nof those sudden revelations that like a flash reveal everything with\nunexpected clearness. For the first time, she fully realized the\npossibility of loving one whom she at first despised. Louis\u2019 dignified,\nmelancholy air, his grave, earnest manner of conversing, his remarkable\nmusical talent, and the sympathetic tone of his voice, all produced an\neffect on Eug\u00e9nie she had never experienced before. Not that she loved\nhim yet, but she asked herself how long her indifference would last.\nFirst impressions are hard to efface from ardent souls. Eug\u00e9nie was\nalarmed at the idea of loving one who had at first inspired her with so\nmuch distrust. She resolved to watch more carefully over herself, and\nkeep an observant eye on one who might take a place in her heart she\ndid not wish to give, unless for ever.\n\nThis was wise. One cannot take too much precaution when there is reason\nto fear the heart is disposed to yield. The heart is the best or the\nworst of counsellors, according as it is guided or abandoned by reason.\nBesides, Eug\u00e9nie was wholly ignorant of Louis\u2019 feelings towards her.\n\nPoor Louis ended the evening in disheartening reflections. He began by\ndwelling on a painful alternative: either Eug\u00e9nie did not suspect his\nlove for her, or, if she perceived it, her only response was a coldness\nthat was discouraging. \u201cAnd yet,\u201d thought he, \u201cif I am mistaken!... If\nshe already loves me in her heart!... If at least she could some day\nlove me!\u201d ... He smiled. Then another fear, still worse than the rest,\ncrossed his mind. \u201cWell, if it were so, there would be another obstacle\nin the way more dangerous than the indifference of Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie\nherself\u2014the opposition of her father. He would never consent to the\nmarriage. His antipathy to me has always been evident. The _abb\u00e9_ has\ncompleted my ruin. I am henceforth a dangerous man\u2014a fanatic\u2014in Mr.\nSmithson\u2019s eyes!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat shall I do?\u201d added Louis, by way of conclusion. \u201cShall I give up\nthe work I have undertaken? Ought I to practise my religion secretly,\nin order to give no offence?... No, indeed; that would be cowardly,\nunworthy of a man of courage, and criminal ingratitude towards God, who\nhas been so merciful to me.... No hateful concessions! With the divine\nassistance, I will do what I think is for the best. Whatever happens\nwill be the will of God.... Whatever it may be, I shall be sure of\nhaving nothing to repent of....\u201d\n\nTo be serious, I should add that Louis, in forming this resolution, was\nnot so heroic as he really believed himself to be. He was young, he was\nin love: and youth and love have always some hope in store.\n\nIt is useless to speak of Mr. Smithson. We are aware of his sentiments.\nLouis was not wrong in his fears respecting him. And yet, however sad\nLouis\u2019 position might be, it was soon to become still more so. A new\ncloud was rising without his suspecting it.\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nMARRIAGE SONG.\n\nBY AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n  Love begins upon the heights,\n    As on tree-tops, in the spring,\n  April with green foot alights\n    While the birds are carolling:\n  Aye, but April ends with May:\n  Love must have the marriage-day!\n\n  II.\n\n  Love begins upon the heights,\n    As o\u2019er snowy summits sail\n  First the dewy matin lights\n    Destined soon to reach the vale:\n  Love-touched maidens must not grieve\n  That morn of love hath noon and eve!\n\n  III.\n\n  Love begins with Fancy first,\n    Proud young Love the earth disdains\n  But his cold streams, mountain-nursed,\n    Warm them in the fruitful plains\n  Ere the marriage-day be sped:\u2014\n  Peal the bells! The bride is wed!\n\n\n\n\nPHILOSOPHICAL TERMINOLOGY.\n\nA LETTER TO THE EDITOR OF \u201cTHE CATHOLIC WORLD.\u201d\n\nTHE suggestion often made in your excellent magazine, that Americans in\ngeneral, and American Catholics in particular, should be supplied with\nsome means of acquiring sound knowledge of philosophical truth, led me\nto consider what particular plan might be most adapted to this end,\nand what resources were at our disposal for carrying out successfully\nsuch a praiseworthy undertaking. The result of this my investigation\nis not calculated, perhaps, to excite that degree of interest which\nthe subject deserves; yet, as it may be the occasion of other useful\nreflections on the part of those who wish to promote this enterprise, I\nhave decided to offer it to your philosophical readers.\n\nI assume that our plan should unquestionably embrace either all that\nis worth knowing in philosophy, or at least all that is needed for the\nexplanation and vindication of all important truths, as well as for the\nradical refutation of all modern errors.\n\nTo carry out such a plan, a writer would need an extensive knowledge\nand a keen appreciation of the teachings of the scholastic philosophers\nand theologians, and especially a masterly comprehension of the general\nprinciples on which those teachings have their rational foundation.\nSuch a writer, I think I may safely add, should be of that sort of men\nwho not only know the doctrines of the great masters of the old school,\nbut who also feel the greatest respect for those eminent thinkers;\nand he should be prepared boldly to follow their leadership in all\nfundamental questions concerning principles, without the least regard\nfor what is now circulated as \u201cmodern thought.\u201d His style should be\nmodern, but his principles should be the principles sanctioned by the\nwisdom of all past ages.\n\nEvery one, of course, will allow that we modern men, in many branches\nof natural science, have attained to a degree of information vastly\nsuperior to what the ancients even dreamed of. Accordingly, we may not\nimproperly consider ourselves better qualified than they were for the\nsolution of a great number of physical questions, of which they are\nknown to have either overlooked the very existence, or missed the true\ninterpretation. It is quite certain, however, at the same time, that we\nare immensely inferior to them with regard to strictly philosophical\nknowledge; and this is the more surprising as one would suppose that\nour superior information concerning the laws of nature would have\nenabled us to reach truth from a higher standpoint, and to correct and\nimprove, even to perfection, the philosophical theories of the old\nschool. Yet the fact is certain and notorious: we have only a few good\nphilosophers, while we need a great many to stand against the torrent\nof infidelity.\n\nAs it is, I think that no man of judgment will deny that we cannot\nraise ourselves to a competent philosophical level and secure the\ntriumph of truth unless we learn again, and turn to account in our war\nagainst our modern barbarians, those doctrines that triumphed over the\nbarbarians of old, and made Europe remain for centuries the shining\ncentre of the civilized world. Wisdom was not born yesterday, and\nphilosophical principles are as old as mankind; hence, new facts may be\nseen, but no new principles of philosophy can be invented.\n\nIt therefore remains for us, if we wish to spread sound knowledge and\nfoster true wisdom, to cling to the old philosophical principles, to\nvindicate them so far as in our present struggling condition it may be\nnecessary, and to apply them judiciously to the close discussion and\nconsistent settlement of arising questions. This is the road that will\nlead us to the goal; and it is a short and easy one, too; for the first\nprinciples of all things are not very many, and can be mastered with\nease, while their application needs only two conditions, namely, first,\na sufficient knowledge of the primitive facts and laws of the physical\norder; and, second, a rigorous logic.\n\nAs the main object we should have in view is the improvement of\nAmerican thought concerning moral and social truths, it might seem\nthat the work of which I am speaking should mainly be a work of moral\nphilosophy, comprising the treatment of all natural rights and natural\nduties whether of individuals or of societies, and leaving dialectics\nand metaphysics mostly in the background as idle speculations, or\nat least as teaching nothing that is essential to the happiness and\nprosperity of private and public life. It is a fact that the general\nreader is inclined to look upon all logical and metaphysical subtleties\nas a string of mere quibbles or an array of unsubstantialities. Though\nI am sure that, in the present wretched state of our public education,\nmany would be found, even among our best citizens, ready to adopt and\ncountenance such a view of the subject, I must say that the view is\nintrinsically wrong.\n\nPhilosophy is a whole whose parts are not merely _integrant_, but\n_constituent_; for each of these parts is essentially linked with the\nothers. As time cannot exist without motion, so neither can moral\nphilosophy without logic and metaphysics; and so sure as no velocity\ncan exist apart from a moving body, even so rational philosophy cannot\nexist apart from all metaphysical truth. To see this the more clearly,\nlet us examine what are the relations that bind together the parts of\nphilosophy.\n\nThe old division of this science into _rational_, _real_, and\n_moral_, which we find to have been given by Plato,[147] is drawn\nfrom the inmost nature of things and the very constitution of\nphilosophy. Everything that is perfect, whether it has an existence\nin the fields of reality, or only in the region of thought, is found\nto involve in its constitution, 1, something competent to give a\ncertain determination; 2, some other thing liable to receive such a\ndetermination; 3, some third thing which is the immediate result of\nthe concurrence of the other two. That which gives a determination\nis called the \u201cformal\u201d constituent of the thing; that which receives\nsuch a determination is called the \u201cmaterial\u201d constituent of the same\nthing; finally, that which results is called the \u201cformal complement,\u201d\nand is the actual constitution or the very actuality of the thing thus\nconstituted. Thus, for example, the human soul, inasmuch as it gives\nlife to the human body, is the formal constituent of man; the organic\nbody, inasmuch as it receives life through the soul, is his material\nconstituent; and actual conscious life, which is the immediate result\nof the concurrence of soul and body in one compound nature, is the\nactuality of the being thus constituted, and makes it formally complete\nin its individual reality.\n\nNow, philosophy is similarly made up of three such constituents. The\nformal constituent and, as it were, the soul of philosophy (and of all\nother sciences, too) is logic, or _rational philosophy_. Its duty is to\nimpress a kind of rational stamp on the objects of science by applying\nto them the process of definition, division, and argumentation, which\nis the scientific process, and constitutes the \u201cform\u201d of science. For\nthis reason, logic holds that place in regard to any object of science\nwhich the soul holds in regard to its body, and is therefore to be\nconsidered as the formal constituent of philosophy.\n\nThe material part, or the body, of philosophy is \u201call real being as\nsuch,\u201d or, in other terms, all the subject-matter of metaphysics, or\n_real philosophy_; for metaphysics is nothing but the knowledge of\nreal things acquired through the consideration of their intrinsic\nconstitution; hence, all reality, be it created or uncreated, matter\nor spirit, substance or accident, is the \u201cmaterial\u201d constituent of\nphilosophy inasmuch as it is subjected to the scientific form by the\napplication made to it of the logical process. The objective truth\nof things, so long as it is not subjected to the searching scrutiny\nof speculative reasoning, mostly belongs to the lower region of\nexperimentalism, which scarcely deserves, though it has usurped, the\nhigh name of science; but, when pervaded by intellectual light, rises\nsuddenly as vivified by it, and takes up its place in the serene\nregion of metaphysics, where it shows itself in all the glory of its\nontological beauty. Hence it is that metaphysics may be compared to a\nliving body, of which logic is the soul.\n\nFinally, by the application of logic to objective realities, namely,\nby the study of metaphysics, a wonderful bond is established between\nthe rational faculty and objective truth, the first getting hold of\nthe second, and the second reacting after its own manner on the first;\nso that reason, enlightened by objective truth, knows how to pronounce\na right judgment on the merit of things, and in its natural rectitude\nfeels compelled to give them that relative place in its estimation to\nwhich each of them is reasonably entitled. As the soul, therefore,\nowing to its intimate connection with the body, \u201cfeels\u201d what suits or\nsuits, not the requirement of the animated organism, and is pleased\nwith the one, and displeased with the other, so also reason, owing\nto its clear possession of objective truth, \u201cperceives\u201d what agrees\nand what clashes with: the objective order of things, and, with the\nauthority of a judge, pronounces its sentence that the first must be\napproved, and the second condemned. Such dictates of reason form the\nobject of _moral philosophy_; and it is through them that the moral law\nis naturally communicated and promulgated to all rational creatures.\n\nHence, it is evident that the knowledge of morality is the result of\nan intellectual knowledge of the real nature of things, and of their\nintrinsic perfection, exigencies, and manifold relations. Hence, also,\nthe conclusion that the rational, the real, and the moral order,\nthough distinct objects of knowledge, are so bound together in one\ngeneral science that it would be scarcely possible to speak of the one\nwithout referring to the other. Hence, finally, the further conclusion\nthat the greater the importance of a true and thorough knowledge of\nmorality, the more stringent is the necessity of securing to it the\nfoundation of good, sound, and intelligible metaphysics. To neglect the\nlatter would be to tamper with the most vital interests of the former.\n\nPerhaps I might go even further, and say that what we need just now is\nnot so much a new book of logic or of ethics as of metaphysics. A good\nmetaphysical work is the surest foundation both of a good logic and of\na good moral philosophy. The laws of thought and the laws of morality\nmust be explained in accordance with the laws of real being; and the\nbetter we understand these last, the more truly conversant shall we\nbecome with the first. Besides, with respect to logic and ethics,\nwe have no new doctrines to teach, whilst in metaphysics we have to\nsettle a number of old and new questions regarding the constitution of\nnatural things, and their causality, and their mutual connection, as\nwe find that such questions are not satisfactorily treated either by\nthe ancient metaphysicians or by our modern unphilosophical physicists.\nSuch questions regard, as I said, natural things; but their solution\nhas a bearing on many other philosophical doctrines, because it\nmaterially effects the terminology by which those doctrines are to be\nexpounded.\n\nI do not wish, nor would this be the place, to enter into particulars\nwith regard to the method which might be followed in the treatment of\ndifferent philosophical subjects; yet I think it worth remarking in\ngeneral that the fewer the principles on which a philosopher shall\nbuild his reasonings, the more clear, uniform, and satisfactory\nwill his demonstrations generally prove; and, on the other hand, in\nproportion as these principles shall be higher, the fewer will be\nneeded. This leads me to believe that one of the best means which could\nbe made available for the much-desired success of the undertaking\nwould be to take our standpoint as high as possible (according to the\nvery nature of philosophy, which is _scientia per summas causas_), and\nto base our demonstrations on the very first constituent principles\nof being. Looking down from such a height, we could easily dissipate\nthe vague phantasmagory, and control the dangerous influences of many\nother so-called principles or axioms whose intrusion into the body of\nphilosophy is due to ignorance or wrong interpretation of the facts and\nlaws of the physical world. It is through these assumed principles that\na very lamentable discord has been fostered and perpetuated between\nthe votaries of physics, on the one hand, and those of metaphysics, on\nthe other; and it is through the same cause, that even now the same\nstudent, after learning one thing as true in his class of metaphysics,\nis obliged to hear it declared false in his class of natural\nphilosophy. This should not be; and we may hope that it will not be\nwhen our philosophical reasonings are ultimately grounded on first\nprinciples, and when no secondary principles are admitted which are not\ndemonstrated, or corrected, or restricted by some evident and adequate\nreduction to first principles.\n\nBut now a question is to be answered which professors of philosophy\nwill perhaps be the first to propose. The question is this: Can a\nsound and thorough work of philosophy, such as we want, be written in\ncommon and popular English, so as to prove easy reading for the average\nAmerican student? Or must a special language be used which none but\ntrained philosophers will understand?\n\nEvery one who knows how peculiar is the language of other sciences\nand arts will anticipate the answer. Of course, the English tongue is\nas fit as any other to express common thoughts; but common thoughts\nare the thoughts of common people, who do not commonly think with the\nutmost philosophical precision, nor talk of matters (of which there\nare many in philosophy) that transcend the common wants of their\nordinary avocations. This being the case, it is obvious that, in\nwriting a philosophical work (especially if it be intended to serve as\na text-book for our higher Catholic institutions), it will be necessary\nto make use of a special language, which, though English, cannot be\nthat easy-going and popular English which we find in common use, but\nmust be a precise, guarded, dry, methodic, abstract, and perhaps\nstiff language, such as the gravity, subtlety, and difficulty of\nphilosophical investigations often require.\n\nI said, \u201cEspecially if the work is intended to serve as a text-book,\u201d\nbecause, in this case, it will be absolutely necessary to adopt in it\nthe whole of the philosophical terminology that has been handed down to\nus by our Catholic ancestors. Terminology, in all branches of study,\nis the faithful exponent of the various achievements of science, and\ncontains, as it were, a summary of all that mankind has succeeded\nin learning in the course of centuries. To ignore more or less the\nphilosophic terminology is therefore to ignore more or less the wisdom\nof all past ages. Moreover, it is only by means of an exact terminology\nthat a teacher can convey the knowledge of exact truth to his pupils\u2019\nminds; and accordingly, all who study philosophy _ex professo_ need to\nbe well acquainted with its language, that they may acquire a clear,\ndistinct, and precise knowledge of things; so that, when called upon\nin after-life to discuss or expound philosophical matters in a plain\nand popular way for the benefit of the unlearned, they may use such\ncircumlocutions as will not essentially conflict with the truth of\nthings. Experience shows that those who have not a clear and distinct\nconception of things, however much they may try to explain themselves,\nare never well understood.\n\nBut what if our work be not especially intended for the class-room,\nbut only for common reading? Would it still be difficult to have it\nwritten in a plain and intelligible manner? I think it would, unless,\nindeed, we leave out the most fundamental questions of metaphysics. If\nwe were asked only to write a few \u201cacademical\u201d essays on philosophical\nsubjects, without concerning ourselves with the intimate nature of\nthings, it would not be very difficult to perform such a task in\ntolerably readable and popular English; but if we are asked to go to\nthe root of things, and to give a consistent, clear, accurate, and\nradical account of them and of their objective relations; if we are\nexpected to lay down and explain those grounds of distinction between\nsimilar things that will enable us to avoid latent equivocations, to\ndetect paralogistic inferences, and to expose the sophistry of our\nopponents; if, in short, we must prepare a standard work which will\ncreate a deep and lasting interest, and take hold of the public mind by\nits fitness to uproot prejudice, to confound error, and to silence,\nif possible, all philosophical knavery, then, I say, we cannot do this\nin the language with which people are generally familiar, without\nfilling it with a number of other words, phrases, and formulas of our\nown. This, however, should not be looked upon as discouraging; for the\npopularity to which a work on philosophy aspires is not the general\npopularity of the newspaper or the novel, but a popularity confined\nwithin the range of deep-thinking minds. Philosophy is not intended for\nblockheads nor for the general reader; hence, if these have no relish\nfor our philosophical style, we shall not, on that account, complain of\nany want of popularity.\n\nWe must own, however, that a number of philosophical words have\nbecome popular in other modern languages which are still above\npopular comprehension in the English; and on this account the range\nof popularity of a philosophical work will be less in our country\nthan it would, all other things being equal, in France, Italy, or\nSpain. In these last countries, where languages are so nearly akin to\nthe philosophic Latin, and where the study of philosophy under the\nsupervision of the Catholic Church formed for centuries a prominent\npart of public education, every educated person soon learned how to\nexpress in his national idiom what he had been taught in the Latin of\nthe schools. It is through this process that the language of philosophy\ngradually became, in those countries, the language of all educated\npeople. In England, the same process was going on up to the XVIth\ncentury, and, if continued, would have led to the same results; but\nit was checked at the time of the Reformation, to the unphilosophical\nand maleficent genius of which it must therefore be ascribed that\nall further popular development of the philosophic language has been\narrested for three centuries in the Anglo-Saxon race.\n\nHad England remained Catholic, and continued, like her sister nations,\nto cultivate the fields of speculative knowledge, there is little\ndoubt that English writers, and the clergy in particular, would\nhave popularized and brought into common use those philosophical\nand theological expressions which had been received already in\ntheir dictionaries, and might have been a most valuable instrument\nfor improving the intellectual education of the country. But while\nthis process of familiarizing speculative knowledge was carried on\nthroughout Catholic Europe, England had something else more pressing\nto do: she busied herself with tearing to pieces and burning the\nmetaphysical and theological books she had inherited from the great\nCatholic founders and luminaries of her universities. How could\nthe Anglo-Saxon race attain to even a common degree of philosophic\ndevelopment under the sway of a system which was the very negation of\nphilosophy? Could any one be a philosopher, and yet \u201cprotest\u201d against\nconclusions of which he had to concede the premises? Protestantism was\nnot the offspring of reason, but of passion and tyranny; it is carnal,\nnot intellectual; it popularizes matter, and studies material comfort,\nbut cannot raise the people to the contemplation and appreciation of\neternal and universal truth. Hence, whilst in all the branches of\nknowledge which are connected with their senses the English people\nmade remarkable strides, in philosophy they remained infants; and it\nwas only by rowing the boat against the stream that a few privileged\nbeings saved some relics from the great national wreck. Even now\nthe Anglo-Saxon Protestant is fated to admire Hume and Bain, Darwin\nand Huxley, Mill and Herbert Spencer; and it will be long before he\nrealizes that it is a shame to talk of these sophists as \u201cour great\nnational philosophers.\u201d\n\nThe same evil that stayed in England the process of popularization of\nthe philosophical language, caused this language to remain deficient\nin many useful and some necessary words wherewith other nations wisely\nenriched their vernacular tongues. This is equivalent to saying that\nthe English idiom, even as used by the learned, does not always\nafford sufficient facilities for the exact expression of metaphysical\nrelations, and that, therefore, a writer who wishes to be quite\ncorrect in treating of them will be tempted to take liberties with the\nlanguage, and will yield to the temptation.\n\nAs an example of this, suppose we wish to say in plain English what\nS. Thomas Aquinas teaches in the following sentence (in 1. _Sentent_.\nDist. 2. q. 1, a. 2): \u201cIn Deo est sapientia, et bonitas, et hujusmodi,\nquorum quodlibet est ipsa divina essentia; et ita omnia sunt unum. Et\nquia unumquodque eorum est in Deo secundum sui verissimam rationem,\net ratio sapienti\u00e6 non est ratio bonitatis in quantum hujusmodi,\nrelinquitur quod sunt diversa ratione non tantum ex parte ipsius\nratiocinantis, sed ex proprietate ipsius rei.\u201d\n\nHow should we here translate the word ratio? Andrews\u2019 _Dictionary_\ngives _reason_, _account_, _business_, _relation_, _regard_, _concern_,\n_care_, _manner_, _plan_, _reasonableness_, _proof_, and such like;\nto which we may add the very word \u201cratio\u201d used by the English\ngeometricians to express the quotient of a quantity divided by another\nof the same kind. Now, which of these terms can we employ in the\npresent case? There is not one of them which would not transform this\nbeautiful and important passage of the angelic doctor into a clumsy\npiece of nonsense. To speak of the _reason_ of wisdom, of the _concern_\nof goodness, of the _manner_ of eternity, or of the _business_ of\nimmensity would be absurd. The temptation to infringe on the rights\nof lexicographers is therefore evident. But what other English word\ncan we employ? Should we translate, _the concept_ of wisdom, and _the\nconcept_ of goodness? By no means. Not that this last meaning of the\nword _ratio_ is not legitimate, but because it is not what we need in\nthe present case; for the holy doctor does not say that God\u2019s wisdom\nand goodness are distinct only on account of our conceptions, but\nexplicitly teaches that they are distinct on their own grounds, \u201cex\nproprietate ipsius rei.\u201d Hence, \u201cconcept\u201d is not the right word; and,\ninstead of \u201cconcept,\u201d we should rather say \u201cthat which is the ground\nof the concept.\u201d Yet this circumlocution, besides being too long to\nreplace a single word, does not exactly correspond to it, as every\nintelligent reader will easily perceive. The force of the word _ratio_\nmight be sufficiently rendered by the compound expression \u201cobjective\nnotion\u201d; but this is forbidden by our dictionaries, according to which\nthe word \u201cnotion\u201d has only a subjective sense. We cannot translate\n\u201cthe nature\u201d of wisdom and \u201cthe nature\u201d of goodness, because it would\nthen seem that divine wisdom and divine goodness are of a different\nnature objectively, and therefore _really_ distinct; which is not the\ncase, as they are only _mentally_ distinct, though on their own _real_\ngrounds. Perhaps, to avoid misconceptions, we might add an epithet to\nthe word \u201cnature,\u201d and translate _ratio sapienti\u00e6_ as \u201cthe notional\nnature of wisdom,\u201d that is, as that formality which is distinctly\nrepresented by the notion of wisdom. This last expression might be\nconsidered tolerably correct; yet I should prefer to stick to the Latin\n_ratio_, which is so much simpler and clearer, and which has, moreover,\na general and uniform application to all objects of thought; as we\neverywhere find _ratio intelligibilis_, _ratio entitativa_, _ratio\ngenerica_, _ratio specifica_, _ratio person\u00e6_, _ratio substanti\u00e6_, and\na great number of similar ratios. And, again, the word _ratio_ has\nanother very superior claim to adoption, inasmuch as it is the only\nword that exactly expresses the transcendental unity resulting from\nthe conspiration of a material with a formal principle, and implies\nin its concrete meaning the two principles from which it results as\nactually correlated; for, as the geometric ratio implies a numerator\nand a denominator correlated as \u201cthat which is mensurable\u201d and \u201cthat\nby which it is measured,\u201d so the _ratio intelligibilis_, the _ratio\nentitativa_, and all the others, imply and exhibit a potential and a\nformal principle, correlated as \u201cthat which is determinable\u201d and \u201cthat\nby which it is determined\u201d; and as the terms of a geometric ratio,\ninasmuch as they are correlated, give rise to a simple result which\nis the value of the ratio, so also the constituent principles of all\nbeings, inasmuch as they are correlated according to their mutual\nontological exigency, give rise to the actuality of the ontological\n_ratio_. It would therefore appear that, if mathematicians are allowed\nfreely to use the word \u201cratio,\u201d as they do, in the peculiar sense just\nstated, metaphysicians too, _a fortiori_, may be allowed the free\nuse of the same word in that general sense which I have pointed out,\nand which, solely through English philosophical apathy, was unduly\nrestricted to its present narrow mathematical meaning.\n\nWhat I have said of this word may suffice as an instance of the poverty\nof our philosophical language. There are other words which philosophers\nare sometimes disappointed not to find in our dictionaries, and which\nit will be necessary to borrow from other sources, or to translate\nfrom the works of the schoolmen; but, as I cannot come to particulars\nwithout entering into discussions which would lead me much further than\nI at present intend to go, I will say nothing more on this point.\n\nI beg to conclude with a last remark which some readers may deem\nsuperfluous, but which should not be overlooked by the teachers or the\nfriends of philosophy. It is not so much the want of proper words as\nthe vague and improper use of the words which we already possess that\nis calculated to impair the merit and mar the usefulness of an English\nwork of philosophy. If I knew that any one was engaged in such a work,\nI would earnestly entreat him to spare no efforts to the end that all\nindefiniteness or looseness of expression may be excluded from it, and\nto take care that his philosophic language be, if possible, as precise\nand as carefully wielded as that of the mathematician. In philosophy,\nnothing is so dangerous as loose reasoning; and loose reasoning is\ninevitable with a loose terminology. Truth, by careless wording, is\noften changed into error, and even great heresies are frequently\nnothing but the incorrect expression of great truths; according to the\nremarkable sentence of S. Thomas: _Ex verbo inordinate prolato nascitur\nh\u00e6resis._ Hence, all those terms which in the popular language have\na vague meaning should in philosophy be either avoided or strictly\ndefined, and constantly taken in the strict sense of the definition.\n\nI remember having found years ago, in the works of an Italian\nphilosopher whose celebrity has since vanished, nine or ten _different_\ndefinitions of the word _idea_. Which of such definitions he adopted\nas his own I could not discover; but it seemed to me that he adopted\nthem all in succession, according as they suited the actual needs of\nhis multiform argumentation\u2014a proceeding which, while confounding\nthe minds of his readers, was certainly not calculated to give weight\nto his conclusions. This same word _idea_ in our popular English is\nextremely indefinite; it stands for _object of thought_, _plan_,\n_judgment_, _opinion_, _purpose_, and _intention_, none of which would\nbe the correct philosophical meaning of the word; for \u201cidea,\u201d in all\nthe approved treatises of psychology, means the knowledge of a thing\ndirectly perceived in any object of first apprehension. Hence, no\naccurate philosopher would say that we have an \u201cidea\u201d of God, or of his\nimmensity, or of virtue, but only that we have a \u201cconcept\u201d of God, of\nhis immensity, of virtue, and of all those other things that are not\nobjects of first apprehension, and the notions of which can be acquired\nonly by a special operation of the intellect on pre-existing ideas.\nThis distinction between \u201cidea\u201d and \u201cconcept\u201d is very important in\npsychology, and should therefore be adopted in a philosophical work at\nthe very first beginning of logic, as a first precaution against the\nequivocations of the ontologists.\n\nIt is not my intention to point out other words the popular meaning of\nwhich must be sharply looked into by a philosopher before he makes use\nof them; I will only add, in connection with the word \u201cidea,\u201d that,\nin the classical books of philosophy, the direct knowledge of the\nexistence of a thing was not called \u201cidea,\u201d but _notitia_. In English,\nwe have the word \u201cnotice\u201d; but this word means, according to Webster,\n_the act_ by which we have knowledge of something within the reach of\nour senses, whilst the Latin word _notitia_ means rather the permanent\n_knowledge_ acquired by that act; whence we see that the Latin _notitia\nfacti_ cannot be translated \u201cthe notice of the fact,\u201d and yet why\nshould not a philosopher be allowed to use the word \u201cnotice\u201d in the\nsense of the Latin _notitia_ when he wishes to contrast the knowledge\nof the existence of a thing with the knowledge of its properties? This\nwould be, after all, only a late justice done to the word by again\nrecognizing its primitive legitimate meaning.\n\nOn the contrary, the word _conscientia_, which in Latin has two\ndistinct meanings, the psychological and the moral, in English\nhas been represented by two distinct words, \u201cconsciousness\u201d and\n\u201cconscience.\u201d This is a real improvement, so far as it goes. But the\nword \u201cconsciousness,\u201d which properly expresses the knowledge of self\nand of the affections of self, has already acquired, as used by modern\nauthors, a very indefinite meaning, inasmuch as it already replaces\nnot only the Latin _conscientia_, but every kind of knowledge as well;\nso that our educated men do not scruple to declare their consciousness\nof the rotation of the earth, or their consciousness of your presence\nin the room. In philosophy, where no word should be liable to two\ninterpretations, such a promiscuous and illogical use of the word is\nreally intolerable; and I respectfully submit that the word should by\nall means be again restricted to its natural signification.\n\nNot to tire the reader with other considerations of a similar\nnature, I will come to an end. My object has been to point out in a\ngeneral manner what I considered to be most needed in a good English\nphilosophical work. Certainly, a work based on unobjectionable\nprinciples, ample in its scope, complete in its parts, and precise\nin its terminology, would be a great boon to the higher classes of\nAmerican society. Let a writer come forward who, besides a sound\nknowledge of philosophical truths, possesses the rare art of expressing\nthem correctly and forcibly in plain language, and he will see his\nefforts so fully rewarded that he will never regret the labor he may\nhave endured in such a difficult undertaking.\n\nA FRIEND OF PHILOSOPHY.\n\n\nCHRISTE\u2019S CHILDHOODE.\n\n  TILL twelve yeres\u2019 age, how Christ His childhoode spent\n    All earthly pennes unworthy were to write;\n  Such actes to mortall eyes He did presente,\n    Whose worth not men but angells must recite:\n  No nature\u2019s blottes, no childish faultes defilde,\n    Whose Grace was guide, and God did play the childe.\n\n  In springing lockes lay chouch\u00e8d hoary witt,\n    In semblance younge, a grave and aunchient port;\n  In lowly lookes high maiestie did sitt,\n    In tender tunge, sound sence of sagest sort:\n  Nature imparted all that she could teache,\n    And God supplyd where Nature coulde not reach.\n\n  His mirth, of modest meane a mirrhour was,\n    His sadness, tempred with a mylde aspecte;\n  His eye, to trye ech action was a glasse,\n    Whose lookes did good approue and bad correct;\n  His nature\u2019s giftes, His grace, His word, and deede,\n    Well shew\u2019d that all did from a God proceede.\n\n  \u2014_Southwell._\n\n\n\n\nTHE TROWEL OR THE CROSS\n\nFROM THE GERMAN OF CONRAD VON BOLANDEN.\n\n\u201c_This is your hour, and the power of darkness._\u201d\u2014S. Luke xxii. 53.\n\nCONCLUDED.\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\nJESUIT AND NEW PROTESTANT.\n\nEARLY the next morning, the count was awakened suddenly from his\nslumber. The three bells of the church-tower gave forth sorrowful\ntones. The peasants assembled from all parts. Von Scharfenstein opened\na window, and looked in vain for the rising smoke, in order to discover\nthe whereabouts of the fire; but neither flame nor smoke was to be\nseen. And yet all the inhabitants, men, women, and children, were\nmoving in the same direction, so that there must have been some cause\nfor the alarm.\n\n\u201cWhere is the fire?\u201d he asked of an aged man, who could hardly walk\neven with the aid of his cane. \u201cWhere is the fire, good man?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no fire; the gendarmes are here to arrest our pastor.\u201d\n\nVon Scharfenstein closed the window.\n\n\u201cThis is too much,\u201d said he angrily. \u201cThe Freemasons, who are\nordinarily cunning enough, have this time committed a great mistake. If\nthe sons of the cross are not more prudent than the sons of the trowel,\nthere will be bloodshed in this case. The peasants will defend their\npriest with scythes and axes.\u201d\n\nMeanwhile, the police commissioner who had come from the city with two\ngendarmes endeavored to put a stop to the ringing of the bells. Before\ngoing to the church, he had foolishly stationed the gendarmes upon the\nhigh step of the pastoral residence, so that the Jesuit should not\nescape.\n\n\u201cStop the ringing of the bells,\u201d cried out the commissioner to the\nbell-ringers.\n\n\u201cRing away!\u201d exclaimed a sturdy, well-dressed farmer who had closely\nfollowed the commissioner. \u201cContinue to ring; the bells are ours; there\nis fire!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am the police commissioner,\u201d said the officer sternly. \u201cI am here by\nthe command of the government, and I repeat my orders to stop at once\nthe ringing of the bells!\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd I am the burgomaster of this place, and repeat that the bells\nshall be rung,\u201d replied the angry and excited villager. \u201cYou have no\nright to command here, and much less in the church. When the whole\nparish is assembled, the bells shall be stopped, not before.\u201d\n\nThe commissioner ground his teeth. He quailed before the determined\naspect of the burgomaster, and returned to the priest\u2019s house. There\nhis anger changed into fear. The large yard before the house, the\nsurrounding walls, and the street were thickly covered with people. He\nsaw threatening looks and fierce eyes glaring upon him when he ascended\nthe steps. The crowd was as yet quiet, but already there were signs of\na coming storm.\n\nThe police commissioner unceremoniously entered the presence of Prince\nJoseph von Eberstein, the Jesuit father.\n\n\u201cThere, look!\u201d he exclaimed rudely. \u201cThat is your work\u2014open rebellion\nagainst the government!\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, Herr Commissioner,\u201d replied the priest calmly; \u201chow could I\nhave caused the tumult, since I had no knowledge of your coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have nevertheless incited the people to revolt against the\ngovernment, and here is the result of your teaching!\u201d\n\n\u201cSir, I have not incited the people against the government; the\ngovernment itself, by a violent and unjustifiable act, has provoked the\nhonest wrath of these simple peasants. I beg you to be less prejudiced.\u201d\n\nThe bells were now silent; in the yard, a threatening murmur was heard;\nthe crowd seemed to be greatly incensed, and the commissioner saw that\nthe situation was becoming very critical. He listened at the window.\n\n\u201cTo carry away our priest like a thief, like a murderer!\u201d exclaimed a\ntrembling voice. \u201cWe will not permit it; he must remain here!\u201d\n\n\u201cIf our pastor was a servant of Judas,\u201d said another voice, \u201cand would\nbetray our religion to the Freemasons, then they would not persecute\nhim. But because he is a pious, conscientious priest whom we all love\nand respect, they wish to take him away.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; that is the reason.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will not suffer it; we will keep our priest; he shall not go!\u201d\nexclaimed many voices confusedly.\n\nThe officer looked at the excited crowd, and acknowledged that it would\nbe dangerous to use violence.\n\n\u201cI regret this commotion,\u201d said Prince von Eberstein. \u201cIf, however, you\nchoose to follow my advice, you can yet take your prisoner.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is your advice?\u201d\n\n\u201cSend away the gendarmes at once; their presence only serves to\nexasperate the people. After that, I will speak to my parishioners, and\nwill enter the carriage with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour advice is discreet,\u201d replied the commissioner, who went out, and\ncommanded the gendarmes to leave Weselheim forthwith.\n\nThe departure of the gendarmes tranquillized the crowd. The threats\nceased, and the clinched fists were opened. Upon the steps of his\nresidence the prince now appeared dressed in his cassock.\n\n\u201cMay Jesus Christ be praised, your reverence!\u201d exclaimed the assembled\nparish.\n\n\u201cNow and for ever, dear children! First let me thank you for the love\nand sympathy you have always shown me during my stay among you. You\nknow that the government objects to my remaining here because I am a\nforeigner. I have been frequently directed by the temporal power to\nleave my parish. But because our Lord Jesus Christ has not commanded\nthe temporal powers to preach the Gospel, to administer the sacraments,\nor to govern the church, but has given that right to the Pope, the\nbishops, and the priests, and because I have derived my mission not\nfrom the temporal authority, but from the church, I have refused to\nleave the dear fold entrusted to my care, nor shall I leave it. In\norder that these unfortunate disturbances may not recur again, I intend\nto accompany the commissioner to the city. There I will lay the whole\naffair before our most gracious king, who is a wise and just ruler.\nI shall ask him to arrange matters so that I shall not be molested\nagain in the discharge of my sacred duties. Are you satisfied, dear\nparishioners?\u201d\n\nThe deepest silence reigned.\n\n\u201cYour reverence,\u201d exclaimed a voice, \u201cif you promise us to come back,\nthen we are satisfied.\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise it to you,\u201d answered the priest firmly.\n\nHe then re-entered the house.\n\n\u201cHerr Commissioner, have the carriage immediately brought before the\nsteps, so that any further excitement may be avoided.\u201d\n\nThis was done. When, however, the children saw their pastor getting\ninto the carriage, they commenced to weep aloud, in which the girls and\nwomen joined, so that heart-rending lamentations filled the air. The\ndriver whipped the horses, and the carriage almost flew through the now\ndesolated village.\n\n\u201cDo not weep so!\u201d said Keller; \u201cour pastor will return: he has promised\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut if they imprison him?\u201d said a timid woman.\n\n\u201cAh! bah! things have not yet come to such a pass!\u201d observed the\nburgomaster; \u201cthe parish will protect him!\u201d\n\nThe people now separated. Only the burgomaster and some of the\ninfluential villagers remained in the priest\u2019s house conversing\ntogether. In a short time, another carriage stopped at the door. The\nastonished men saw an official wearing a very rich uniform descend from\nthe carriage.\n\n\u201cI think I know him,\u201d said Keller. \u201cYes; I am right: he is one of the\nfour Freemasons.\u201d\n\nA priest who accompanied the official was received by the villagers\nwith sharp and suspicious looks.\n\n\u201cGood-morning!\u201d said the friendly official. \u201cI am rejoiced to meet here\nin the priest\u2019s house such a number of gentlemen. Herr Burgomaster, if\nI am not mistaken?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; I am he, and these are the councilmen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is splendid; what a fortunate circumstance!\u201d remarked the\nofficial. \u201cI am the government counsellor, and have come to introduce\nthis reverend gentlemen into his office, so that the good parish of\nWeselheim should not be one moment without a pastor.\u201d\n\nThe men looked at one another; they were greatly perplexed, and seemed\nhardly to understand what was going on.\n\n\u201cBut, Herr Counsellor,\u201d said the burgomaster, \u201cwe have a pastor. He\nwent only an hour ago to the city to see his most gracious majesty the\nking, and to-morrow he will return.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken, Herr Burgomaster,\u201d assured the smiling counsellor\nand grandmaster of the Freemasons. \u201cThe Jesuit will not return.\u201d\n\nThe last words fell like a thunderbolt among them.\n\n\u201cWhat?\u2014O ho!\u201d exclaimed the men. \u201cWe shall see! Our pastor is the Rev.\nHerr von Eberstein; we wish no other.\u201d\n\n\u201cUnfortunately, Herr von Eberstein is a foreigner,\u201d replied the\ncounsellor, shrugging his shoulders. \u201cI introduce to you a pious priest\nwhose zeal will certainly bring a blessing upon the parish.\u201d\n\nThe priest bowed and smiled, but the villagers evidently did not like\nhim.\n\n\u201cWhat is your name, if we may be allowed to ask?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is Stechapfel\u201d (thorn-apple), answered the priest.\n\n\u201cWhat! Stechapfel?\u201d cried they all, drawing back.\n\n\u201cAre you not the New Protestant Stechapfel of whom we have read so much\nin the newspapers?\u201d inquired Ewald, one of the councilmen.\n\n\u201cI am not a New Protestant, but an Old Catholic,\u201d replied Stechapfel.\n\n\u201cIt is really so\u2014it is he!\u201d exclaimed Keller. \u201cDo you know, Herr\nStechapfel, what you call \u2018Old Catholic\u2019 is understood among Catholics\nas \u2018New Protestant\u2019? We know also why the heretics of our day have\ninvented the word \u2018Old Catholic\u2019: they did so to throw sand in the\neyes of the people; as if they, the heretics, had remained faithful\nto the old Catholic doctrine, but the Pope and all the bishops and\npriests, as also all Catholics, had renounced the true faith. Luther,\nthe first Protestant, did the very same thing. He accused the Pope\nand the bishops of having left the old doctrine, but that he, Luther,\nhad retained it, for which reason he was an Old Catholic. The same is\nrepeated to-day; it is deception\u2014pure deception; therefore we do not\ncall these deceivers \u2018Old Catholics,\u2019 but \u2018New Protestants.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI deplore all this confusion,\u201d replied Stechapfel devoutly. \u201cI have\nnothing to do with Luther nor with heresy of any sort. I keep firmly to\nthe Old Catholic doctrine.\u201d\n\n\u201cPlease listen to me, Herr Stechapfel; I wish to ask you something,\u201d\nbegan Keller, moving his cap on one side of his head. \u201cDo you believe\nthat the Pope is infallible when he explains and defines how an article\nof faith or of morals is to be understood?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I do not believe it, because it was never believed before,\u201d\nreplied Stechapfel.\n\n\u201cWas never believed before\u2014only hear that!\u201d exclaimed the villagers,\nlaughing.\n\n\u201cThen let me continue\u2014I am not through yet,\u201d said Keller. \u201cYou\nbelieve, therefore, Herr Stechapfel, that the Pope and all the bishops\nerred when they maintained this doctrine in the council?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf course they erred; for they invented a new article of faith,\u201d\nanswered Stechapfel.\n\n\u201cHa! ha! That is too absurd!\u201d cried out some of those present.\n\n\u201cDo not laugh, men; it is not a laughing matter,\u201d said Keller. \u201cNow,\nHerr Stechapfel, since you are to be our pastor, you can perhaps\nexplain something that I do not understand. Our Lord instituted an\ninfallible teaching tribunal in his church before he ascended to\nheaven. That he was obliged to institute this infallible tribunal I can\nunderstand; for fifty years would not have elapsed after his ascension,\nbefore learned men would have begun to misinterpret and distort his\ndoctrine. Therefore an infallible tribunal was necessary, that it might\ntell the people what is and what is not the doctrine of Christ. Our\nLord has also promised and given to this infallible tribunal the Holy\nGhost, that he should remain with it unto the end of the world, and\nestablish it in all truth. But now, this tribunal, that is, the Pope\nand the bishops, has declared that the Head of the church is infallible\nwhen he gives to the whole world a decision or an interpretation\nconcerning the meaning of an article of faith or morals. Now follows\nwhat I do not understand. You New Protestants maintain that it is not\nso. But if it is not true, then the infallible tribunal has erred;\nthen our Lord has told a falsehood. How does this all agree, Herr\nStechapfel?\u201d\n\nThe counsellor and the priest could not conceal their vexation.\n\n\u201cYou are well instructed,\u201d said Schlehdorn.\n\n\u201cThis is in consequence of having had a good and zealous priest,\u201d\nreplied the burgomaster. \u201cAre you not a New Protestant, Herr\nCounsellor?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means! I hold fast to the original doctrine of the Holy Catholic\nChurch; therefore I am, strictly speaking, an Old Catholic.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not believe it!\u201d exclaimed Keller, with a fierce gleam in his\neyes. \u201cYou are a Freemason; although you have shaved off your beard and\nmoustache, yet I know you. Did you not a few days ago meet three other\nFreemasons on the Vogelsberg (mountain of birds)? Did you not then say,\n\u2018The trowel or the cross\u2019? Did you not say that there was no God, no\ndevil, no heaven, no hell?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken in the person,\u201d replied the astonished official, in\ngreat embarrassment.\n\n\u201cWell, what of it?\u201d cried Ewald consolingly. \u201cDo not for that\nreason excite yourself, Herr Counsellor. We knew long ago that the\nNew Protestants had very little religion. Who are the most zealous\nNew Protestants? Just those who never go to confession or to holy\ncommunion. They have wrapped themselves in the little cloak of \u2018Old\nCatholicism,\u2019 so that they might work the better against the Catholic\nChurch.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough!\u201d exclaimed the official, who had regained his self-command.\n\u201cI am not here to expose myself to rude attacks, but to introduce this\npriest into his office.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is not necessary!\u201d exclaimed the men. \u201cYou can take the New\nProtestant at once back again with you; we do not want him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe are not in Bavaria,\u201d said the burgomaster. \u201cWe shall be faithful\nto the Pope and his bishops; we care nothing for the infallible\nprofessors. We do not believe that any man is infallible of himself;\nbut the Pope is infallible by virtue of his office as teacher; and the\nHoly Ghost is neither promised nor sent to the professors.\u201d\n\n\u201cHerr Burgomaster,\u201d began the counsellor sternly, \u201cI make you\nresponsible for the safety and official influence of Pastor Stechapfel.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas! Herr Counsellor, you have asked too much!\u201d replied the\nburgomaster. \u201cWe in this village are Catholics in the strictest sense\nof the word. Therefore, we cannot have Herr Stechapfel, because he is\na New Protestant. Do you imagine, Herr Counsellor, that the people\nwill allow themselves to be commanded in religious matters? Do you\nthink that our faith is to be knocked into and out of our heads by\npolice-clubs, just because you say the word? No; I refuse to become\nanswerable for the New Protestant pastor you have brought us, and I\nalso assure you that, if he enters the church, the people will run out.\u201d\n\nKeller, who had evidently devised some plan of action, gave the\nburgomaster a secret sign.\n\n\u201cI think,\u201d said he, \u201cas the government counsellor has come purposely\nhither, we should give Herr Stechapfel a trial. By the way of\nbeginning, you should introduce Herr Stechapfel into the pastor\u2019s\nresidence.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have spoken very wisely,\u201d answered Schlehdorn. \u201cI must now go;\nfarewell, gentlemen!\u201d\n\nThe official thereupon returned to the city, and Stechapfel and the\nburgomaster entered the priest\u2019s house.\n\nKeller remained outside; he spoke earnestly with the other men, and the\nnature of his communication created great but suppressed mirth among\nthem.\n\nAfter a short interval, Keller and Ewald appeared before Stechapfel.\n\n\u201cHave you maturely considered the matter? It will not do,\u201d commenced\nKeller. \u201cIf it becomes known in the village that an Old Catholic New\nProtestant is here, there would be a terrible tumult. The people would\nbe wild at the thought of having a man as their pastor who is more\ninfallible than the Pope and the bishops, and who is at the same time\nexcommunicated. To avert misfortune, you must leave at once!\u201d\n\n\u201cI protest against such treatment; I shall remain!\u201d exclaimed\nStechapfel.\n\n\u201cYou can protest as long as you wish; it becomes you very well, for you\nare a New Protestant!\u201d replied Keller indifferently. \u201cBut remain here\nyou cannot!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe government has sent me as pastor to this village, and I shall\nmaintain my right to the position!\u201d exclaimed the Old Catholic.\n\n\u201cBah! the government! That is New Protestant nonsense! If you were a\nCatholic, you would know that the government has no right to dispose\nof ecclesiastical offices. Offices of the church are bestowed by the\nchurch. Therefore, you must go! Where is your hat?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is an outrage; it is nothing less than violence!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere, take your hat! I ask you whether you will leave voluntarily?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I will not go!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, we will accompany you until you are out of the village,\u201d\nsaid Keller; and he put his arm under that of Stechapfel, while Ewald\nexecuted the same man\u0153uvre on the other side. In vain did the intruder\nresist. The strong men took him out of the house, across the yard, and\nthrough the village. The people of Weselheim stood around and laughed\nat the comical scene.\n\n\u201cWhom have you there?\u201d asked a passer-by.\n\n\u201cWe have here an Old Catholic New Protestant who has strayed away from\nBavaria. We are now showing him the way out of the village.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d cried out another, in surprise. \u201cI hope you will\nnot lay hands on a priest?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly not,\u201d said Ewald; \u201cwe only expel the wolf who wished to\ncreep in clothed as a sheep.\u201d\n\nA short distance out of the village, the men halted.\n\n\u201cSo, Herr Stechapfel, now you can proceed alone,\u201d said Franz Keller.\n\u201cIf you wish to be again taken out, then you must revisit us; it will\nbe a pleasure for us to escort you as we have just done. If you are\nreally a duly ordained priest, then I ask your pardon; but I have not\nto ask pardon of you personally, for you bear too close a resemblance\nto the traitor Judas. You can tell the gentlemen in the city that we in\nWeselheim shall remain true to the cross: the trowel the Freemasons may\nkeep for themselves. Good-by!\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAPPEAL FOR HELP.\n\nFROM the tower of the palace floated a banner\u2014a sign that the king had\ntaken up his residence there. In the royal park, a gentleman in the\nprime of life was walking. His countenance bespoke a kind disposition,\nand his dark eyes were full of spirit and intelligence. He sought out\nthe most lonely paths, and seemed lost in thought, while his gaze\nrested upon the lovely flowers of the forest, the green moss, and the\ngigantic oaks. Hurried steps are heard coming up the well-gravelled\nroad; joy beams from the face of the gentleman; he stretches out his\narms, presses the youthful count to his bosom, and imprints a kiss upon\nhis forehead.\n\n\u201cHave you come at last, my Adolph? How fresh and handsome you look!\u201d\n\n\u201cNo wonder, your majesty! I drink water, and eat potatoes with sour\nmilk,\u201d replied the count merrily.\n\nThey walked on arm in arm. The count was distantly related to the king,\nwho was a great lover of art, and therefore took pride in the poetic\ntalents of his young relative.\n\n\u201cFor how long has your majesty freed yourself from the affairs of\nstate?\u201d asked Adolph.\n\n\u201cFor two weeks\u2014a short time. Even here I cannot rest; I have promised\nan audience to many persons.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy did you promise?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause those who wish to see me belong to a powerful organization,\u201d\nreplied the king. \u201cThe grandmaster of all the Freemasons of the country\nwill present an address to me\u2014in two days, I believe.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe grandmaster?\u201d exclaimed the count, taking his portfolio from under\nhis arm. \u201cThese leaves contain both good and bad. To keep either secret\nfrom the king would be treason, and on my part a great violation of my\nduty as his friend.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you written a drama?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, your majesty; or rather, I have copied one; you also are one of\nthe actors, as well as the grandmaster. Can I begin to read?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly; I am most anxious to hear what you have written.\u201d\n\nVon Scharfenstein, after a few words of introduction, described his\nhiding-place in the forest, and the circle of unsuspecting Freemasons\nassembled at his feet. He then commenced to read. The king listened\nwith undivided attention. Gradually a dark frown settled upon his brow.\n\n\u201cMany thanks for your valuable communication,\u201d said he, when Von\nScharfenstein had finished reading. \u201cSo I am a narrow-minded man who\ndoes not rule, but is ruled! Outrageous impertinence!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is contemptible and vulgar; but what else do you expect from\nFreemasons!\u201d answered the count.\n\n\u201cAnd these very Freemasons are always professing to be the most\nobedient servants of the crown,\u201d said the indignant king. \u201cThey are\nconstantly clamoring about the dangerous designs of Rome upon other\ngovernments, and they also pretend to decry the intrigues of the\nultramontanes!\u201d\n\n\u201cIn reality,\u201d replied Von Scharfenstein, \u201cit is these men of the\ntrowel and apron who undermine the authority of the crown; they make\nthe people hate their rulers, they violate and wound the holiest\nfeelings of subjects, and they do this clothed in the garment of\nofficial authority. I will give you an example.\u201d And the count related\nthe forcible expulsion of the Jesuit father, and the request of the\ninhabitants of Weselheim.\n\nThe king walked a few steps in silence.\n\n\u201cJustice shall be given to the oppressed, and punishment to the\nguilty,\u201d said he, and then turned towards the palace.\n\nTwo days later, the councilmen left their village, dressed in their\nbest attire, and carrying with them the prayers of all the inhabitants.\nThe burgomaster led the procession, followed by the others, until they\nentered the royal park. The nearer they approached the palace, the\nslower were the footsteps of the men; for it is no trifling matter for\nhumble subjects to enter the presence of their king.\n\n\u201cGeorge, do justice to our cause!\u201d said Ewald to the burgomaster.\n\n\u201cI will do all that I can, but you must help me!\u201d And the burgomaster\nwiped the perspiration from his forehead.\n\nThey walked in respectful silence upon the clean gravel-path that\nled to the palace. At some distance from them, they espied their\ngood friend Count von Scharfenstein coming up a by-road. He saw the\ndiffidence of the men, and saluted them kindly, in order to infuse new\ncourage into them.\n\n\u201cThe parish of Weselheim is held in high estimation by the king, for\nhe only gives audience here to princes and to very intimate friends,\u201d\nsaid he. \u201cTherefore, you must speak freely to him. The king likes a\nplain and truthful statement of facts. At the same time, my friends,\nthe question is, Can the king help you, that is, for any time to come?\nThere is only one thing which will be of help.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does your lordship mean?\u201d inquired Keller.\n\n\u201cI mean that the Freemasons and liberals aim at the destruction of\nreligion. They have worked at this for many years, and not in vain.\nThey have succeeded in expelling in many places a large number of\npriests from the schools, so that the children, if possible, may grow\nup without religion. They have declared war against conscientious\nbishops and priests. At present they have driven out the Jesuits,\nbecause they are very active and zealous in the discharge of their\nduty. After the Jesuits will follow the other religious orders, then\nthe seminaries will be closed, bishops and priests will be deprived\nof their rights, and the church as they imagine, will be rendered\nhelpless. It is a most cruel tyranny, and a real stigma upon the German\nname; but what can be done? The tyrants are all powerful.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur gracious king can put a stop to their wickedness,\u201d said the\nburgomaster.\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken,\u201d replied Scharfenstein. \u201cThe king cannot do\neverything. He has sworn to uphold the constitution, and he must keep\nhis oath. If, therefore, the representatives of the country, the\nChamber of Deputies, make laws hostile to religion, the king is often\nobliged to confirm them. Consequently, only one thing can really help\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what is it, if we are permitted to ask your lordship?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is for you to exercise more prudence in the elections for the\nChamber and the Diet. Send pious, religious men as your representatives\nto the Diet, and then your religion will not be insulted, and you will\nhave good laws. Why are the Freemasons now in the ascendency in the\nChamber, in the ministry, in the government, everywhere? And who are\nto blame for it? The people, yes, the people have given the reins to\ntheir bitterest enemies. If the Catholic people had elected proper\nrepresentatives, the Freemasons and liberals would never have become\nso powerful. If, therefore, the enemies of religion use their power\nfor the destruction of the church and of religious belief, it is very\nnatural, and the careless indifference of the people is the cause of\ntheir triumph.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour lordship is right,\u201d answered the burgomaster.\n\n\u201cIt will be very different at the next election,\u201d said the other men.\n\n\u201cI hope so,\u201d remarked Von Scharfenstein. \u201cRemember what I tell you.\nOnly one thing will be of lasting benefit to you, and that is to send\npractical Catholics to the Diet; and this you can do if you choose.\nUnscrupulous men who do not believe in God, in eternal reward or\npunishment, do not hesitate to deprive the people of their religious\nrights, to impose oppressive taxes upon them, and to make slaves of\nfree men!\u201d\n\nThe villagers acquiesced in what was said.\n\n\u201cI wish that we had never believed the sweet-sounding words of the\nliberals and their lying newspapers,\u201d remarked Ewald. \u201cWe must really\nconfess that, as a people, we are too ignorant, and allow ourselves to\nbe too easily duped.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is time for you to become prudent,\u201d replied the count.\n\nThe deputation had now reached the palace.\n\n\u201cDo you see the man with the long official staff in his hand, standing\nthere in the hall? Tell him who you are, and he will take care of you.\u201d\nSaying this, Von Scharfenstein saluted them, and returned to the park.\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\nTHE AUDIENCE.\n\nIN the audience-chamber there stood three gentlemen in animated\nconversation: the grandmaster and two other Freemasons, the director,\nand university professor. They were handsomely dressed, and wore\nseveral orders upon their breasts. They seemed to be very familiar with\ntheir surroundings, for they moved about with perfect unconcern. The\ngrandmaster of the Freemasons especially appeared to be full of his own\nimportance, and he glanced haughtily at one of the king\u2019s attendants\nwhen he entered the apartment.\n\n\u201cSomething has gone wrong to-day,\u201d said he, looking at his watch. \u201cIt\nis already a quarter of an hour after the appointed time. I have never\nbeen treated so before.\u201d\n\n\u201cI also remark something unusual,\u201d exclaimed the director. \u201cThere,\nbehind the table, stands a chair of state. The king never seats himself\nwhen giving audiences; why, therefore, has this rule been violated?\nThere is a bell upon the table\u2014what does all this mean?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king has his humors, no doubt,\u201d replied the grandmaster\nsarcastically, placing meanwhile an address upon the silver salver\nwhich stood upon the table.\n\nAt once the folding-doors opened, and the king entered, looking grave\nand dignified. He advanced towards the chair of state, and, placing\nhis hand upon it, he waited until those present had finished bowing.\nNo gracious smile lighted up his features, and he returned their\nsalutation with a scarcely perceptible nod of the head.\n\n\u201cMost gracious majesty!\u201d commenced the grandmaster, \u201cit cannot have\nescaped your notice that a serious disturbance threatens the peace of\nthe whole German Empire, as well as the kingdom which is so happy as\nto be governed by your wise and prudent rule. The infallibility of the\nPope, so dangerous to the state, and invented only to bring princes and\npeople under the sceptre of the Roman Pontiff, has provoked universal\nindignation. Everywhere societies and meetings are protesting against\nthis usurpation of Rome. At Munich and Darmstadt, good and learned men\nhave taken part in the proceedings. In both cities, resolutions were\npassed which your majesty will be graciously pleased to accept.\u201d\n\nThe king silently took the address from the salver, and laid it upon\nthe table.\n\n\u201cYour majesty will permit me to remark,\u201d continued the grandmaster,\n\u201cthat, at the Protestant Diet of Darmstadt, the Jesuits were specially\ndesignated as the most dangerous conspirators in the service of Rome,\nand particularly hostile to the German Empire. Now, as the Society\nof Jesus exists also in your majesty\u2019s dominions, we have ventured,\nactuated solely by the interest we take in the peace and political\nwelfare of the kingdom, to humbly petition that your majesty will\ninsist upon the immediate expulsion of the above-named society.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you a Catholic, Herr Counsellor of the High Court?\u201d asked the king.\n\n\u201cStrictly Catholic, your majesty\u2014strictly Catholic,\u201d replied the\nFreemason. \u201cI hold firmly to the old doctrines of the Holy Catholic\nChurch, and shall resist with all my strength the innovation of the\nlast council.\u201d\n\n\u201cAccording to what you say, your petition asking for the suppression\nof the Jesuits does not come with such ill grace from you, for you,\nas a Catholic, speak about Catholic affairs,\u201d said the king. \u201cBut\nwhy a Protestant diet should meddle itself with the ecclesiastical\ndiscipline and religious belief of Catholics is beyond my conception.\nThe Catholics also have public meetings; but I never hear that they\nconcern themselves in the slightest degree about Protestant matters. I\nam aware of the resolutions passed by the Protestant Diet of Darmstadt,\nand regret them exceedingly, because they are only calculated to\ngrieve Catholics, to disturb the peace, and to seriously embarrass\ngovernments. The Gustave Adolph Society is a proof how, in former\ntimes, Protestants have united themselves with the foreign invader\nand destroyer of our country against the Catholic Emperor of Germany.\nHostile treatment, or even an attempt to suppress the Catholic\nChurch on the part of the state, might in like manner force Catholic\nGermans to unite themselves with a foreign power in opposition to the\nProtestant Emperor of Germany. A faithful people are not in need of\nforgiveness if they love their God and their religion more than they do\nthe tyranny of their fatherland.\u201d\n\nThe Freemasons were astonished; they did not expect to hear the king\nspeak as he did.\n\n\u201cYou make mention of the resolutions of the glass palace at Munich,\nwhich were also directed against the Jesuits,\u201d continued the king. \u201cDo\nyou believe the grave accusations which they bring against the Society\nof Jesus?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have the fullest conviction of their truth,\u201d replied the\ngrandmaster, bowing low.\n\nThe king now seated himself, and looked through the address. The men of\nthe trowel cast significant glances at each other.\n\n\u201cA ruler must be just; he should never belong to a party,\u201d said the\nking. \u201cYou demand the suppression of men who are highly respected\nand venerated by thousands of my subjects. The Burgomaster and\nprincipal men of Weselheim are here to petition for the restoration\nof their pastor, a Jesuit father. If, after hearing these men, I am\nconvinced that the actions of the Jesuits correspond with the Munich\nresolutions, then I will not be disinclined to grant your request for\nthe suppression of the society; but, if the contrary, then justice must\nbe done!\u201d\n\nHe rang a bell. The folding-doors at the lower end of the _salon_\nopened, and the burgomaster, together with the councilmen of Weselheim,\nentered, all looking anxious as to the result of the interview. The\nking rose from his chair, and his whole manner changed; with a friendly\ngesture, he invited the embarrassed deputies to draw nearer.\n\n\u201cAh! Herr Burgomaster, I am delighted to see you again!\u201d said he to\nthe burgomaster, giving him his hand. \u201cYou have not become older in the\ncourse of the year\u2014always young and active. How are the trout? Shall I\nsee any more of them upon my table?\u201d\n\n\u201cO most gracious king!\u201d replied the delighted burgomaster, \u201cthe whole\nparish will catch trout for your majesty.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to hear it!\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cAnd how is your little\ngolden-haired son with the rosy cheeks? Has he grown tall?\u201d\n\n\u201cTwo feet taller this year; your majesty would not know him!\u201d\n\nThe councilmen were enchanted. The ice was broken.\n\n\u201cYou desire your pastor, the Jesuit father, to return to you again?\u201d\nbegan the king, seating himself in the chair. \u201cThat is right; such a\nrequest is honorable to you all. Parishioners should always esteem a\nworthy pastor. But, my dear people,\u201d he continued, \u201cthere are some\ndifficulties. It is asserted that the Jesuits are men dangerous to the\nstate; that their teachings are destructive to morals. It is further\nsaid that the Jesuits conspire against the government; that they\nare opposed to the enlightenment of the people; and I am therefore\npetitioned by some of my subjects to authorize their expulsion. These\nare the very words contained in the address I hold in my hand.\u201d\n\nThe men looked at one another; they evidently did not comprehend the\nmeaning of the accusations made against the Jesuits.\n\n\u201cI ask pardon, your majesty; but we do not understand you,\u201d said\nthe burgomaster. \u201cWe know, indeed, that there are many who hate the\nJesuits, and who wish to see them exterminated, none more so than the\nFreemasons. But your majesty must not listen to such persons; for even\nour Lord was accused by his enemies of inciting the people, of being\ndangerous to the state; and they even went so far as to nail him to\nthe cross. If our Saviour would come again to-day in the flesh, the\nFreemasons would not be satisfied until they had crucified him again.\u201d\n\nThe king cast a quick look at the flushed countenances of the\nFreemasons.\n\n\u201cI ask you, upon your conscience,\u201d said he to the burgomaster, \u201cif your\nJesuit father ever taught immoral doctrines?\u201d\n\n\u201cO great heaven!\u201d exclaimed the excited burgomaster. \u201cImmoral\ndoctrines\u2014our pastor? Why, your majesty, he is like a saint, and he\ndoes his best to make saints of the whole parish. If two young persons\nof a different sex live together without being married, our pastor\nnever rests until both have given up their scandalous life and are\nmarried. If enmities exist, and lawsuits and quarrels, our pastor is\nindefatigable until he effects a reconciliation. Thus, our pastor\nis like an angel for our parish. Formerly there were many who hated\neach other; we had dissensions among ourselves; but now everything is\npeaceable and quiet in the village, and all this we owe to our pastor,\nthe Jesuit father.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what he does for the children is beyond belief, your majesty,\u201d\nsaid Keller. \u201cHe visits the schools every day; the children love him.\nIn _former_ times, parents had to command the children to pray in the\nmorning and the evening; _now_ they pray without being told to do so.\nAnd our children are so obedient, for our pastor impresses upon them\nthe full importance of the fourth commandment.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas your pastor no enemies in the parish?\u201d inquired the king.\n\n\u201cYes, most gracious majesty; he has enemies, that is, three rascals,\nwho would like to see him driven out,\u201d said the burgomaster.\n\n\u201cYou see, gentlemen,\u201d said the king to the officials, \u201cthat your\naccusations against the Jesuits are by no means confirmed.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Jesuit of Weselheim may perhaps be an exception,\u201d replied the\ngrandmaster.\n\nFranz Keller seemed possessed with a desire to speak, but he controlled\nhis impatience.\n\n\u201cYour majesty will excuse me for saying that the accusations against\nthe Jesuits appear very surprising to me,\u201d remarked Ewald. \u201cIn\nthe Bible, we read that the Jews dragged our Saviour before the\nhigh-priests, and accused him of different crimes. And when our Saviour\ndefended himself, one of the servants struck him in the face, whereupon\nour Saviour said: \u2018If I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil;\nbut, if well, why strikest thou me?\u2019 It is the same with the Jesuits.\nIf they are really as wicked and criminal as their enemies assert,\nwell, let them be brought before the law, and be punished according\nto the law. But if nothing can be proved against them, why continue\nto slander and persecute them, and to treat them like murderers and\nthieves?\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well said, and very true!\u201d answered the king.\n\n\u201cMost gracious king, I can tell you what people are against the\nJesuits\u2014the Freemasons,\u201d began Keller, unable any longer to keep\nquiet. \u201cA short time ago, I heard them talking on the Vogelsberg. These\nthree gentlemen (pointing to the Freemasons) were there, and one other.\nThe one with the gray beard said: \u2018The trowel or the cross, that is the\nwatchword!\u2019 Then they all declared that the religion of Christ must be\nexterminated; and, because the Jesuits are good preachers and zealous\npriests, therefore they must be the first to be overthrown. And they\nalso said that, when the altars were destroyed, the thrones must be\ndemolished. What else they said, most gracious king, I will not grieve\nyou by repeating.\u201d\n\nThe king looked silently, but with an expression of severe displeasure,\nat the officials.\n\n\u201cWill your majesty permit us to withdraw?\u201d inquired the grandmaster.\n\n\u201cYou will remain; we have not finished yet,\u201d replied the king sternly.\n\n\u201cMost gracious king,\u201d entreated the burgomaster, \u201cbe kind enough to\nlook through the window.\u201d\n\nThe king did as requested, and saw at the foot of the hill the whole\nparish of Weselheim congregated together\u2014men, women, and children.\nThey all stood with their faces turned towards the palace. Many knelt\nupon the ground. The king was visibly affected at the sight.\n\n\u201cThe whole village unite with us in asking your majesty to give us back\nour dear, good, pious Jesuit father,\u201d said the burgomaster.\n\nAt this moment, a chamberlain appeared, and handed the king a written\ncommunication.\n\n\u201cHe is very welcome; admit him at once!\u201d commanded the king.\n\nThe delegation were attentive spectators of what was transpiring. In\nthe antechamber they heard the voice of the pastor, who now entered the\n_salon_, and was most graciously received by the king. The presence\nof royalty alone prevented loud exclamations of delight from his\nparishioners, whose faces shone with joy.\n\n\u201cThe Society of Jesus was very active during the last war,\u201d said the\nking, after certain formalities had been gone through. \u201cHow many German\nJesuits were on the scene of action?\u201d\n\n\u201cNearly all, your majesty\u2014one hundred and eighty-eight,\u201d replied the\nJesuit. \u201cOur older members took care of the sick; for, during the war,\nall our colleges were converted into hospitals.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo proof of hostility to the state,\u201d remarked the king, turning to the\nofficials. \u201cHow many Freemasons were employed in attending to the sick\nand wounded in the hospitals during the war?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe care of the sick does not belong to the vocation of a Freemason,\u201d\nanswered the grandmaster shortly.\n\n\u201cMuch is said and written to-day concerning the extraordinary power of\nthe Jesuits,\u201d said the king to the reverend father. \u201cI have in vain\nendeavored to discover the secret of this power; you may perhaps be\nable to enlighten me on the subject?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour majesty, the so-called power of the Jesuits is a mere phantom\ninvented by our enemies to excite the fears of the credulous,\u201d answered\nthe priest. \u201cIn fact, the Jesuits are, of all men, the weakest. They\nare slandered, persecuted, suppressed. In many places, they have not\neven the right to exist or to breathe, as in Bavaria and Switzerland.\nAll societies are protected in Bavaria, all associations can exist in\nSwitzerland, except the Society of Jesus. If the Jesuits, therefore,\npossessed in reality the power claimed for them, they would not permit\ntheir members to be treated like slaves, as they now are.\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you,\u201d rejoined the king. \u201cBeing a foreigner, your reverence\nhad to abandon the sphere of your labor; but now I grant you the right\nof a subject, and liberty to return to your mission. May you live many\nyears to be a blessing to the parish of Weselheim!\u201d\n\nHe took the hand of the priest, and led him to the village delegation.\n\n\u201cHere, you have your pastor back again! Honor and obey him!\u201d said he to\nthem.\n\n\u201cMost gracious king, may Almighty God reward you a thousand times for\nwhat you have done!\u201d exclaimed the men, down whose cheeks the tears\nwere streaming; and, if two of the chamberlains had not interfered, and\nled them out of the _salon_, they would have committed many breaches of\netiquette, so great was their joy.\n\nThe king now approached the Freemasons; his manner was cold, but his\neyes were ablaze with indignation.\n\n\u201cI thank divine Providence,\u201d said he, \u201cfor having exposed before my\neyes the cunning and malicious snare in which you sought to entrap\nme. The Jesuits are not the enemies of culture nor of the state; but\nthe Freemasons are. The foundation of culture is Christianity, and\nnot Freemasonry, which is the enemy of Christianity. In my kingdom,\nthe cross, and not the trowel shall be the symbol of government. The\nJesuits neither teach nor practise a false and corrupt morality,\nbut the Freemasons do, for they seek to overthrow not only altars\nbut thrones. The Freemasons are unscrupulous, false, and perjured\nofficials, for they have presumed to say that their king to whom they\nhave sworn fidelity was a narrow-minded man who did not govern, but was\ngoverned! It would be nothing more than just to have the whole order\nprosecuted for high treason!\u201d\n\nThe excited king ceased speaking. The Freemasons, who at first looked\ndefiant and unconcerned, now trembled with fright. His majesty stood\nfor a while in perfect silence. From the foot of the hill resounded\nmany hundred voices chanting the grand hymn of praise, the German _Te\nDeum_, while they accompanied their beloved pastor to the village.\n\nThe king, who had recovered his self-command, now pronounced the\nfollowing sentence: \u201cThe director, the Counsellor of the High Court,\nthe professor of the university, and the government counsellor\nSchlehdorn are from this time forth deprived of their offices. I shall\nnot institute judicial proceedings against them, out of regard to the\nfeelings of their innocent families!\u201d\n\nThe king turned, and left the _salon_.\n\nThe Freemasons looked at one another. Upon the lips of the grandmaster\nan ironical, revengeful smile was seen.\n\n\u201cA blow in the water will startle any one, if it is given\nunexpectedly,\u201d said he, \u201cand our present discomfiture is only of that\nnature!\u201d he continued, with a peculiar movement of the hand, and in\nlanguage whose obscure meaning they evidently understood. \u201cBrethren,\nour labors in a small sphere are only discontinued that we may resume\nthe work on a grander scale; for the trowel of the Freemasons shall yet\nbuild the arch that covers the grave of the greater as well as of the\nsmaller!\u201d\n\nThe other Freemasons bowed affirmatively to the words of the\ngrandmaster, and followed him out of the _salon_.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT IS CIVILIZATION?\n\n\nTHE word civilization, adopted into almost every European language, is\nderived from the Latin of _civitas_, a city, and _civis_, a citizen.\nWebster thus defines civilization: \u201cIt consists in the progressive\nimprovement of society considered as a whole, and of all the individual\nmembers of which it is composed.\u201d And further: \u201cA well-ordered state of\nsociety, culture, refinement.\u201d Now, it is worth while to inquire into\nthe tangible ideal of that people to whose language we are indebted\nfor this comprehensive word. The Romans considered their empire the\nappointed head, by divine right, of the whole world. They could not\ntake in the idea of their supremacy being disputed, much less resisted,\nand hence the proud motto, \u201c_Civis Romanus sum_,\u201d which was meant to\nexpress the _ne plus ultra_ of human dignity. No greater honor could\nbe bestowed upon a stranger, whether ally or conquered foe, than to\nmake him a Roman citizen. It was a title more valuable than that of\nC\u00e6sar; it had privileges attached to it which neither the blood of a\nMachabee nor an Alexander could claim; it compelled greater respect\nthan the heroism of a Leonidas or the uprightness of a Socrates.\nThus early had false notions of material civilization corrupted the\ngenuine meaning of a word which should always stand, not for political\nsupremacy, but for moral excellence. Rome, the heart of the dominant\nempire which had vanquished and absorbed at least two civilizations of\nhigher degree than its own, the Hebrew and the Greek, has transmitted\nto the word civilization the spirit of its intensely local autonomy.\nEvery kindred word derived from the same root has a like meaning,\nespecially \u201ccivility,\u201d a synonyme of \u201curbanity\u201d (from _urbs_, a city),\nthereby conveying the insinuation that city customs alone have that\ngrace and refinement necessary to pleasant social intercourse. Another\nmeaning naturally flowed from this arbitrary assumption of perfection\nto imperial Rome. Civil came to mean national as opposed to foreign;\nas we say, for instance, civil, for intestine, war. More or less all\nnations of the world have adopted this way of looking upon civilization\nas a local thing; and, to the greater majority of mankind, there is\na certain flavor of disparagement implied in the terms foreign and\nforeigner. We speak in a tone of half-concealed pity of men from\nfar-off countries, as if they must needs be a little lower in the\nscale of creation than our enlightened selves. We have not forgotten\nthat \u201cbarbarian\u201d and \u201cforeigner\u201d were terms used interchangeably by\nthe Greeks, and our local pride still unconsciously crops out in the\nmost childish and laughable demonstrations. Nothing shows better how\nvery arbitrary is the interpretation of the word civilization than our\nvarious estimates of its essence. The Chinese who wears yellow for\nmourning smiles compassionately at the European in his dusky garment\nof sorrow; and the European who is accustomed to eat his dinner with\na knife and fork thinks that a nation can hardly be civilized which\ntolerates the use of chop-sticks. To come nearer home, we have known\nan Englishman of distinguished birth and position refuse the hand of\nhis daughter to a French diplomat, a nobleman of the old stock, an\naccomplished gentleman, a rich land-owner, for the weighty reason that\n\u201che was a foreigner\u201d!\n\nThe word \u201cbarbarian\u201d (from the Greek _\u03b2\u03ac\u03c1\u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2_) is given in Webster\u2019s\n_Dictionary_ as meaning, in the first and literal sense, foreign.\nBarber or Barbar was originally the native name of a part of the\ncoast of Africa. The Egyptians, fearing and hating its inhabitants,\nused their name as a term of contumely and dread, in which sense it\npassed to the Greeks and Romans. Thus the kindred words barbarous and\nbarbarity have kept the meaning of \u201ccruel and ferocious,\u201d but the main\nstock of _\u03b2\u03ac\u03c1\u03b2\u03b1\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2_ generally signifies the two almost synonymous\nthings, \u201cforeigner\u201d and \u201cbarbarian\u201d! The imitative sound of _barber_\nwas applied by the Greeks to the ruder tribes whose pronunciation was\nmost harsh and whose grammar most defective. Dr. Campbell says that the\nGreeks were the first to brand a foreign term in any of their writers\nwith the odious name of barbarism. This word with the Greeks had the\nadditional general meaning of ignorance of art and want of learning,\nand as such has been used by Dryden. Barbaric remains to this day the\nsynonyme of foreign and quaint, far-fetched, as Milton, following the\nGreeks, has used it:\n\n      \u201cThe gorgeous East with richest hand,\n  Showers on her kings _barbaric_ gold and pearl.\u201d\n\nBut Dryden has also put the more unusual word barbarous for the same\nthing:\n\n  \u201cThe trappings of his horse embossed with _barbarous_ gold.\u201d\n\nThe misapplication of all these terms, and more especially of\n\u201ccivilization,\u201d is of daily recurrence. We cannot open a newspaper\nwithout seeing its self-eulogium expressed in the term \u201ca journal\nof civilization\u201d; we cannot read a leading article on the financial\nprosperity of the country without finding it confidently stated that\nsuch prosperity is an infallible sign of civilization; we hear of\nrailroads \u201ccarrying civilization\u201d among the wild tribes of Central\nAfrica; and we see atheism and false science parading their unhappy\nprogress as the \u201cmarch of civilization.\u201d\n\nNow, admitting the very just definition we have quoted above, that\ncivilization is \u201cthe progressive improvement of society _as a whole_,\nand of each individual member of which it is composed,\u201d it seems to\nus conclusive that only one perfect form of it could exist on earth,\n_i.e._ that which flourished for a short time in the Garden of Eden.\nMankind in the state of innocence was _ipso facto_ civilized, and\ncivilized to the highest moral and intellectual degree possible to\nmere human creatures. Had there been no original sin, and had Adam\u2019s\nposterity continued in utter sinlessness to inhabit the peaceful\nand fruitful earth, we should have had that well-ordered state of\nsociety in which the only progressive improvement would have been\never-increasing love and knowledge of God.\n\nBut this, the only perfect civilization, was lost with all other\nprecious gifts\u2014incorruptibility, innocence, and clear insight into\nthe things of God. The state of grace followed the state of innocence,\nand man, having fallen from his innate mastership over nature when he\nfell from his mastership over himself, found that civilization and\nprogressive improvement must henceforward mean nothing to him but the\npainful effort to regain as much of his former power as God would\nallow him, in guerdon of his repentance, to regain. All civilization\nsince the Fall, therefore, has been only approximative, and can never\nbe more than this. This explains why the highest civilization has\nbeen attained only since Christianity has prevailed, the state of\naccomplished redemption being the most perfect mankind has yet reached,\nsuperseding even the state of expectancy of the Hebrew dispensation.\nIt explains, too, why the Jews were the most civilized of all ancient\nnations\u2014a point to which we will refer at greater length in another\nplace. From the few details briefly mentioned in Genesis, we infer\nthat the earliest civilization after the Fall was by no means inferior\nto our own as far as material prosperity was concerned. Besides the\nobvious callings of husbandman and shepherd, always the first and\nindeed indispensable foundation of civilized life, we find that during\nthe lifetime of Adam, _i.e._, the first thousand years after the\nCreation, cities were built and the arts cultivated. Cain was the first\nto build and organize a town, and his descendant Jubal is called the\nfather of \u201cthem that play on the harps and organ.\u201d Tubal Cain was \u201ca\nhammerer and artificer in every work of brass and iron.\u201d Hunting and\nthe use of weapons were of course familiar to the pioneers of the human\nrace, for tradition tells us that it was while hunting that Lamech\nslew a man, supposed by some to have been Cain, mistaking him for a\nwild beast. It was not long before solemn religious ceremonies were\ninstituted, as appears from this passage: \u201cThis man (Enos) began to\ncall upon the name of the Lord,\u201d which is thus interpreted: although\nAdam and Seth had called upon the name of the Lord before the birth\nof their son and grandson Enos, yet Enos used more solemnity in the\nworship and invocation of God. The natural bent of fallen man, however,\nprevailed over the efforts of a few faithful souls, and that material\ncivilization which, could we in imagination reconstruct its gorgeous\ncompleteness, would undoubtedly not fall below that of the great\nempires of Assyria, Egypt, or Persia, led surely though insensibly to\nmoral corruption. The fatal beauty of the women of Cain\u2019s race, \u201cthe\ndaughters of men,\u201d their wealth too, doubtless their worldly prosperity\nand lavish display, tempted the descendants of Seth, \u201cthe sons of God,\u201d\ntill, in a few hundred years, \u201call flesh had corrupted its way,\u201d and\n\u201cit repented God that he had made man.\u201d This was the first example of\nthe deteriorating effect of mere animal civilization, and, alas! how\nfaithfully has it been copied in all ages since! How persistently and\nwith what unwearying perseverance have its details of profligacy been\nimitated by the succeeding generations of mankind!\n\nA historical review of each separate attempt at civilization made by\nthe dispersed nations after the building of the Tower of Babel would be\na serious task, and its result too long for these pages; but, before we\nleave this part of our subject to turn to the more abstract question of\nthe essence of civilization, let us stop to remark what a high pitch\nof human culture had already been attained in times so remote that,\nsave through revelation, no memorial of them remains to us. Wendell\nPhillips has partially developed this idea in his lecture on the \u201cLost\nArts,\u201d proving that three-fourths of our _discoveries_ are plagiarisms,\nthat our best witticisms are borrowed from the Indian and the Greek,\nand that our most boasted arts are but gropings in the dark after some\nvanished ideal of antiquity. And how much more learning than we can\nconjecture must there not be utterly buried out of sight in the sealed\nrecords of antediluvian times! The only likeness which we can safely\nboast of with those colossal days is the likeness of unbelief and\ncorruption. The \u201cmighty men of old,\u201d of whom the Bible so mysteriously\nspeaks, were doubtless as much above our standard of intellect and even\nof prosperity as vulgar superstition ranges them above our standard of\nphysical strength and height. A veil of mystery shrouds them and their\nlives from our utmost research, and we know only one thing for certain;\nthat is, their sin and its awful doom\u2014little more than is told us of\nthe fall of Lucifer and his angels, yet enough to teach us that all\ncivilizations which in their arrogance dare to defy the laws of God\nmust inevitably fall beneath his rod.\n\nAnd now, what _is_ civilization? What _is_ the \u201cgood of society\nconsidered as a whole\u201d?\n\nTwo things are indispensable to it\u2014the inviolability of the family,\nand the stability of the laws of property. On these two pillars,\nhumanly speaking, is society built, and whatever is antagonistic to\nthese fundamental principles is necessarily and directly antagonistic\nto civilization.\n\nPaternal and patriarchal government was the first known because the\nmost natural; and, when the increasing number of families confused\nthe original system and complicated its duties, the ruler chosen to\ntake charge of the whole tribe or nation still looked to no higher\ntitle than that of _father_ of his people. The stability of the laws\nregulating property was in all lands reckoned the gauge of prosperity\nand the test of national vigor. The desire of personal possession, of\nundisputed ownership over a tract of land however small, is a natural\nand legitimate instinct of man; its realization alone can bring with\nit to each individual that independence, that self-respect, which, in\nthe aggregate, creates the feeling of national honor. Patriotism is not\nan intangible virtue; it springs from the broader basis of domestic\naffection; it follows the feeling of responsibility induced by the\nknowledge of having a personal stake in your country\u2019s advancement.\nThe Romans have left us their motto: _Pro aris et focis_\u2014\u201cFor our\naltars and our hearths.\u201d If we could no longer qualify these hearths\nas _ours_, what a lessened interest they must necessarily have in our\neyes! The man who works for himself alone is reckless even if brave,\nlukewarm even if conscientious. He may do his work, but he does it\nwithout enthusiasm. He who works for those near and dear to him, to\ngain or defend a patrimony for those who in the future will take his\nplace and bear his name, is gentle, considerate, patient, far-seeing,\npersevering, as well as brave and conscientious. But granted that\nthese social and domestic laws are well-guarded, in what else does\ncivilization consist? There are four things which dispute the title\nto forming the highest test of a well-ordered state of society:\nriches, political freedom, education, and religion. Some men would\ncombine these elements in varied quantities to form _their_ ideas of\ncivilization; others would sink every element but one, and try the\nexperiment as long as it could be made to minister to their own private\naggrandizement; others, again, look for the visionary supremacy of one\nelement alone, and the subordination to itself of every other, whether\nbaser or nobler. We need not say to which class we hope to belong\u2014the\nsequel will show.\n\nDoes civilization consist in riches, whether national or individual?\nTrue, the command of wealth inspires respect in neighboring peoples;\nfor national wealth means large resources, speedy armaments,\nflourishing colonies, and means of thwarting the commerce of lesser\nnations. But national wealth is seldom attained unless from the basis\nof individual wealth. It is impossible for the state to absorb and\nadminister such resources as these, and yet to compel private citizens\nto lead lives of Spartan frugality. The individual cannot be made to\nacknowledge any right on the part of the state which will interfere\nwith his own right of accumulating capital, provided he makes over to\nthe government a fair share of his profits in the shape of legitimate\ntribute. Private wealth then becomes the source of private luxury and\nextravagance, and behind extravagance lurks moral decay. Factitious\nwants are created, an abnormal state of society is brought about,\nunmanning the body and weakening the mind. To many men, riches simply\nsuggest new means of indulging in vice; and to all men, vice, in the\nlong run, means disease. Material prosperity has thus reached its\napogee, has overshot its mark, and has found a fitting punishment in\nphysical deterioration. There is yet another side to the question.\nInordinate riches in the hands of a few, especially if unsupported by\nterritorial prestige, by hereditary honors and the semi-feudal spirit\nwhich in Europe still links the agricultural and landed interests\nin personal association, are apt to breed class jealousies, and to\nestrange labor from capital. A civil war far more terrible than an\narmed insurrection is set on foot and slowly undermines the political\nstructure. It is true that the most fatal example of this kind was the\nupheaval of the French Revolution of \u201893, and that it took place under\na monarchical government; but, though monarchical, it was not a feudal\ngovernment, and the men whose birth, wealth, and station marked them\nout as the victims of the people\u2019s rage were essentially men whose\nassociations had long been dissevered from the land. Their estates had\nbeen abandoned to unscrupulous agents or sold to ambitious _roturiers_;\nand for what reason? That its price might cover their needless display\nat an unstable court! At the present day, where is socialistic\nagitation most rife in Europe? In the manufacturing towns: not in the\nagricultural districts. Almost to a man, every factory-gang is ready to\nturn against its employer; while, in the country, laborers will even\ndie in the defence of their landlords. In the former case, the master\nis always a \u201cself-made\u201d man, a man of the people, or at least one whose\nassociations are obscure; in the latter, the master is the hereditary\nrepresentative of gentle blood and gentle nurture, the personal friend\nof each man on his estate, identified with the neighborhood, and\nattached to the soil.\n\nThe verdict of history has certainly gone against the theory that\ntimes of material luxury, pushed to its furthest extent, are therefore\ntimes of great national prosperity. Athens was at the height of her\nultra-refined civilization when the rude and martial Roman conquered\nher autonomy; Rome herself, made effeminate by the conquering vices\nof her conquered foe, was at the giddiest pinnacle of merely physical\nprosperity when the resistless tide of the barbarians poured over her\nfrontiers; Spain had just grasped the New World with its teeming riches\nwhen she fell from her political supremacy in the Old; France was\nrevelling in her Augustan Age when the tocsin of the Revolution woke\nher from her dalliance. Great wealth has everywhere been the herald\nof national misfortune; and, as if to set off this truth yet more\npalpably, we have the republics of Sparta and of Switzerland to show\nus that, both in classic and in modern times, frugality is the best\npreservative of freedom.\n\nBut the existence of abnormal wealth as a criterion of civilization\nhas yet another phase. If it is possible under a republican form of\ngovernment and under a constitutional r\u00e9gime, it is still more likely\nto reach gigantic proportions under a despotic system. Thus the East\nproduces more princely fortunes than even the \u201cenlightened\u201d West,\nbecause, wealth being restricted to fewer individuals, it follows\nthat these few fortunes must be colossal. Unlimited pomp, dazzling\ntrains of slaves and camels, a fabulous blaze of gems, a limitless\nharem, seem to be matters of course for the favored few whose almost\nomnipotence has become proverbial among men as typical of the East.\nTherefore, if wealth be a gauge of civilization, we must conclude that\ndespotism is the most civilized of states, since it is certainly the\nmost favorable to the accumulation of riches. If so (and, for the sake\nof argument, let us grant it), how shall we reconcile this conclusion\nwith the claims of the second and, according to some, infallible test\nof civilization\u2014political freedom?\n\nWe understand by this the extreme of so-called self-government, the\ngovernment by ballot and universal suffrage. We have had but very\nlately many signs of its woful fallibility; we have seen how cleverly\nit can throw the cloak of legality over the most unblushing frauds;\nwe have seen hired violence control the very medium of government\nitself. Men who respected themselves would as soon touch pitch as\ndefile their hands with voting tickets, or stand up by the side of\nillegally naturalized citizens, pressed into momentary service by the\nunscrupulous manipulators of the ballot-box. A form of government\nwhich in theory is more perfect than any other, and more in accordance\nwith ideal human dignity, but which in sober practice has sometimes\nbeen found an inadequate safeguard against corrupting influences, is\nnot apt to strike any one who has been familiar with the results of the\nlast few years\u2019 political wire-pulling as the most exalted criterion\nof civilization. The cant phrase of political freedom has unhappily\ncome to mean political corruption, which hardly entitles this second\ncandidate for the exclusive patent of civilization to a lengthened\ndiscussion in these pages. The third is education.\n\nThis is certainly a more plausible test than the two former. Learning,\nthe arts, the sciences, the classics, all relate to the higher part\nof man\u2019s nature, and reflect honor on those who strive to be their\ninterpreters. This seems worthy of man, akin to his primeval state,\nand like the occupation of his future life. But alone even education\ncannot stand. When dissevered from religion, it falls, either into\natheism or fanaticism, sometimes into both. At least one example of\nits pernicious moral results when thus left to itself is the brilliant\nshame of the Medicean renaissance. In the new groves of Academe, the\nducal gardens of Fiesole, heathen voluptuousness speedily followed\nheathen philosophy; polished manners and elegant diction redeemed loose\nmorals and equivocal conversation; Christianity was voted _barbarous_,\nand Christian pageants uncouth. It was the age of Boccaccio. The poison\nspread far and wide, the fever of a misdirected and one-sided education\nseized all classes, and the fathers of the church were forgotten for\nthe lascivious poets of Greece and Rome. The mysteries of Bona Dea\nwere almost enacted over again, the dances of Bacchus were revived,\nand the processions of Venus and Cupid took the place of Christian\nsolemnities. The corruption was thus forced on the people, who, excited\nby gorgeous public entertainments of pagan complexion, caught the\nhollow enthusiasm of their rulers, and emulated the servile Romans of\nthe empire who cried out, _Panem et circenses_, while they blindly\nsurrendered their freedom into the crowned showman\u2019s hands. Material\nprosperity and godless learning combined, stifled the last semblance\nof Florentine liberty under the rule of the Medici. In France it was\natheism concealed under the guise of learning which prepared the way\nfor the Revolution of \u201893; it was the delicately veiled irony, and the\nsportive unbelief of Voltaire\u2019s disciples, which first made the \u201clittle\nrift within the lute.\u201d The savage leaders of the Reign of Terror had\nnothing to do save crown with the guillotine the elaborate system of\ncorruption already founded by the \u201cphilosophers.\u201d\n\nEducation without religion has been as treacherous and as frail a\nsupport to the civilization of men as the reed that pierces the hand\nof him who leans upon it; political freedom (?) without religion has\nbeen only another name for a retrograde movement towards anarchy, and\nmaterial wealth without the controlling influence of religion has\nproved the most dangerous because the most emasculating of allies to\nthose nations who have built their civilization on its basis.\n\nEach and all of these experiments have fallen far short of the ideal\nof the Garden of Eden, and each has practically confessed by its\nfailure the radical infirmity of the theory it represented. The reason\nis self-evident: a system which undertakes to guide the complex\nworkings of human nature cannot afford to disregard any of nature\u2019s\nmanifold instincts, and, by obstinately refusing to give a place to\nall legitimate aspirations, overbalances itself, and falls sooner or\nlater into a trap of its own setting. You cannot govern man through\nhis animal wants alone or through his intellectual yearnings only, any\nmore than you can rule him solely through his spiritual instincts. He\nmust be fed, clothed, and housed, true, but this alone will not satisfy\nhim; his reason cries out for development and exercise, and his heart\nalso puts in a claim to the notice of any one who would undertake to\nrule him. It is true that man is not an angel, and that spiritual food\nalone would not allay his hunger, but it is equally true that he is not\na brute being, to be abundantly satisfied with good fodder and a dry\nstable. His nature is threefold: animal, intellectual, and spiritual,\nand claims an equal recognition of each of its phases. Neither mere\nriches addressed to the contentment of his lower instincts, nor mere\neducational and political advantages addressed to the satisfaction\nof his nobler self, are enough for his welfare; his soul is a higher\nregion yet, and one which demands yet more imperatively an adequate\namount of attention. This soul it is which, when bound and blinded\nas it but too often is in mere worldly systems of civilization, ends\nby grasping, like Samson, the insecure supports of this partial\ncivilization itself, and in the untamed strength of despair dragging\ndown the fabric in ruins at its feet.\n\nThere remains one more element which is still claimed by a brave\nminority, as the essence of all true civilization, and that is\nreligion. This is the most comprehensive criterion of a \u201cwell-ordered\u201d\nstate of society, for it includes all the rest as a matter of course.\nReligion is not incompatible with the possession and accumulations\nof wealth, as some erroneously suppose, but she requires that such\ninterests shall be amenable to the dictates of moderation, and of\ncharity; she does not scout learning as an ally, but eagerly welcomes\nit, so long as it keeps within its province and does not use its power\nto stifle the spiritual nature of man; she is no enemy to political\nfreedom or to any particular form of government whatever, but she\nfirmly resists the claims to omnipotence which every strong government,\nwhether popular or absolutist, has in the hour of its worldly triumph\ninvariably made. With a wisdom the counterpart of that which equalizes\nand controls the various forces of nature, religion holds in her hand\nthe various emotions, passions, and necessities of man, and balances\naccording to a divine standard the proportions in which each one may\nbe legitimately satisfied. She subordinates the lower satisfactions\nto the higher, in exact proportion as the lower nature of mankind is,\nor should be, subordinate to the higher; she places delegates in each\ninferior sphere, that there may be no violence done to the spiritual\norder in furthering the interests of the material; she bids honesty\nwatch over the legitimate increase of wealth, integrity temper the\nefforts of men in the cause of political freedom, and reverence guide\nthem in the pursuit of learning. She gathers up these single threads\nof our lives, and, weaving them into a triple cord, imparts to them a\nstrength which her blessing alone can confer, and which individually\nthey could never have attained. It is she alone who skilfully brings\nwithin the practical reach of the poor, the oppressed, and of the\nignorant, those theories which in the mouth of worldly apostles seem\neither poetical dreams or subversive and socialistic principles.\nIt is she who is the true reformer, the true progressist, the true\npatriot. But why is she so? Simply because she is also the only true\nconservatrix in the world. Her mission is to foster the good, to seek\nit out, to make it known, to assimilate it to herself, to absorb it\ninto her system. Material good is not excluded; wherever it is, it\nbelongs of right to her; whether it be old or new, foreign or native,\nit matters not, religion takes it into her bosom, gives it immortality,\nsanctions its use, recommends its adoption. Being founded on the\nrock of truth, she can safely stoop to draw from the wreck of error\nany fragment of good contained in it, whether it be a scientific, a\nliterary, or a domestic addition to the stock of ideas which is the\ncommon property of human nature, and of which she stands the perpetual\nguardian. This broad, open-armed, fearless, progressive spirit is\nthe nearest approach to the ideal of the lost paradise: this is\ncivilization\u2014this is Christianity.\n\nAs an example of the superiority of religion over any other test of\ncivilization, let us return for a moment to what we have said of the\nJews. To the only reasonable and dignified conception of the Godhead\nknown to the nations of old, they added the only worthy conception of\nhuman duties and responsibilities. Their domestic system was the only\none in which woman bore a seemly part; their political organization,\nwhether in the desert, under Moses and his \u201crulers over thousands,\nand over hundreds, and over fifties, and over tens\u201d[148] (the same\ndivision afterwards prevalent in the Roman army), or in the land of\nChanaan under the Judges, was essentially self-governing, federal,\nand independent. Their laws were minute in detail and stringent\nin execution, not only after their establishment as a nation in\nChanaan, but during the forty years of their nomadic existence in\nthe wilderness, a period which with any other people would have been\none of irremediable lawlessness. Compacts and treaties are mentioned\nin the Bible even before the direct segregation from the world of\nwhat was afterwards known as the people of Israel. Abraham and Lot\nagreed solemnly and peaceably to settle the differences between their\nfollowers, by each tribe taking up its abode within certain given\nlimits; Abraham and Abimelech came to a public understanding, the\nformer meaning to do the heathen and alien leader no harm, and the\nlatter restoring a well of which his servants had possessed themselves\nby force; Abraham insisted upon paying a full and fair equivalent\nin money to the Hethite who offered him _gratis_ the funeral cave\nof Mambre; Eleazar made between Isaac and Rebecca a formal marriage\ncontract; Esau when he had voluntarily sold his birthright, though\nat the bidding of necessity, was bound to hold by his rash cession;\nJacob made and faithfully kept with his uncle Laban an engagement to\ngive him his services for fair wages for a given number of years. Such\nsocial compacts, rigorously adhered to even when made with idolaters,\nare among the most convincing proofs of the high state of a country\u2019s\ncivilization, and present a strange, suggestive contrast with the rude\npolity of nations who, at that time and even many ages later, knew no\nright of property save that of forcible possession, and no guarantee of\ngood faith save that which the sword could enforce. Attention to the\nduties of hospitality, another prominent sign of civilization, was a\ncharacteristic of the Jews. We have so many Biblical examples of this\nthat it is impossible to give them. The division of the community into\nfixed orders of occupation is another recognized sign of an advanced\nstate of society. Of course this and many others were held by the\nJews in common with several nations of heathendom, some eminently\ndistinguished for heroism, for honor, for learning, etc; and yet which\nof all the polished nations of antiquity had not some festering sore\nof pauperism, superstition, or barbarity, to conceal beneath its fair\noutside of dazzling \u201ccivilization\u201d? The people of God, on the contrary,\nthe only representatives of the true religion, were free from such\nsocial ulcers, and, even when their history shocks us by scenes of\nmysterious cruelty, it is universally admitted that the hand of God was\nworking through them, and that they were but as instruments wielded in\nthe dark by a power mightier than themselves.\n\nAgriculture, or the \u201carts of peace,\u201d called by some the representative\nof civilization, was an honored calling among the Hebrews. The riches\nof Judith and of Booz were fields and cattle; the promises of future\nprosperity scattered through Holy Writ are always typified by \u201cfields\nand vineyards\u201d; the inheritances and dowers of the sons and daughters\nof Israel were herds and fields, and so jealous was each tribe of\nits landed possessions that it was enacted that its members should\nintermarry only among themselves, under pain of forfeiting all claim to\nthe legal portion allotted the offender. So careful of the condition\nof the land and its products were the divinely inspired laws of the\nHebrews that they provided every seven years a season of rest, \u201cthe\nSabbath of the land,\u201d when for a twelvemonth the fields should not be\nploughed nor the vineyards pruned, neither any fruit forced to grow and\nproduce by artificial means. It would take a volume to develop this\nmysterious superiority of the chosen people, as regards even material\ncivilization, over every other contemporary nation during fully two\nthousand years. They saw whole systems of social economy rise from\nbarbarism, and fade away into political dotage, or disappear beneath\nthe heel of conquest; they watched nations live and die, and drop out\nof the memory of mankind as completely as Pharao\u2019s hosts were hidden by\nthe waves of the Red Sea, and yet they stood firm and indestructible,\nwith unchanged laws, with fixed customs, a people small in number, but\ngreat in tradition, invincible as the sun, immovable as a rock. And\nwhy? Because their political existence and their social system was\nfounded on truth, and controlled by religion. The Hebrew nation was the\none holy and only true church of those days. And for the same reasons\nwhich gave the Jews that supernatural vitality, Christianity is at\nthis day in the van of civilization. Everything we have said of the\none applies to the other; the signs which we noticed as such prominent\nfeatures of Jewish polity\u2014division of orders, fixed occupations, care\nfor agriculture, good faith, property and family laws, individual\nand federal government\u2014whence have they come to us? We say it\nunhesitatingly, from Christianity. To put it into plainer language, let\nus say, from the church, and chiefly through the monastic orders.\n\nThese armies of peaceful conquerors invaded the morasses and forests\nof the North, and, carrying with them all that made the Hebrew system\ndivine, planted that very system in the midst of the barbarian hordes.\nThe monks were the first agriculturists, the first mechanics, the first\nengineers, of our modern civilization. What need to tell again the\nstory of their giant labors and glorious success? After teaching us\nhow to build our houses, to till our fields, to protect our rights, to\nclothe our bodies, they taught us how to beautify our lives by art, and\nstore our minds with learning. They gave us cathedrals, that we might\nknow how glorious was the God they taught; they gave us Roman, Greek,\nand Hebrew lore, that we might see how liberal was the Master they\nserved. The laws under which all European nations and their offshoots\nnow live were framed on the model of the Canons of the Church,\nthemselves based on the Tables of the Mosaic law; and the sciences, the\nliterature, and the arts, of which we in our pygmy self-glorification\nare so proud, have been painfully transmitted to us by the patient\nlabor of monastic scholars. Christianity in the person of these heroic\npioneers has paved the way for all the civilization we can boast of,\nand those who seek to divorce civilization from Christianity thereby\ndisown their very title-deeds. Once blot the church out of the map of\nthe world, and civilization will speedily follow. Thank God that that,\nat least, is now impossible!\n\nHaving therefore inherited all that made the Hebrew system the most\nperfect approach to the ideal of the Garden of Eden, Christianity\nstands to-day in the position of the only legitimate representative of\ntrue civilization. For one thousand five hundred years, Christianity\nmeant Catholicism, and to the reign of her undisputed supremacy belongs\nevery important discovery, every material progress, the world has ever\nmade. Why then, when we face to-day that world which owes it to the\nchurch that it is strong enough to face anything\u2014do we meet everywhere\nthe reproach of intolerance, of retrogression?\n\nIs the reproach true to-day which in the days of S. Columba was false?\nHave we changed, has the church changed? If not, where is the fault?\n\nIt lies, as all human mistakes do, in the confusion and perversion of\nterms. The world in its aberration has turned against its teacher, and\nwounded itself with the weapons that only a practised and steady hand\nmay safely wield. It has erected its own puny tribunal at the foot of\nGod\u2019s throne, and judged the Eternal from its own point of view. If\nthe childish madness were not so sad in its results, it would make one\nsmile at its presumption. But it has the power of damning a human soul,\nand of frustrating the work of God himself on Calvary, so that we dare\nnot smile at its arrogance, how supremely ridiculous soever it may be\nfrom a merely philosophical point of view. It is this aberration of the\nhuman mind which for the last three centuries has dubbed Christianity\nas retrograde. When the Pope\u2019s Syllabus made the difference clear\nbetween true progress and its infidel counterfeit, the world cried out\nthat he was retrograde. \u201cSee\u201d it said, \u201che condemns the liberty of the\npress, the liberty of association, the right of self-government, the\nspread of education; he would have heretics burnt at the stake, and all\nProtestant sovereigns deposed from their thrones.\u201d\n\nWas it so? We know that it was not. We know that it was the _abuse_,\nnot the _use_, of these things which was condemned, and that the\ndenunciation of error is a very different thing from the extermination\nof that error\u2019s victims. We know this, and the world too knew it, but\nit suited the purpose of the world to say otherwise, and to raise\nagainst us the cry of intolerance, fanaticism. Well, be it so; but who\nfashioned the languages in which that cry is raised, who taught the\nworld the meaning of such words as intolerance and fanaticism, who led\nthe way to the contrivance without which the liberty of the press could\nnot exist?\n\nOur civilization, it is true, is of a different order from that now\nin fashion. It is a civilization which has no need of iron ships and\nmonster armies; it can subdue and humanize by other methods than the\nbullet and the shell. It tolerates all and any customs that do not\nstrike at morality; it can adapt itself to any nation, and make itself\n_all things to all men_. It does not pin its faith to the color of the\nskin, the fashion of a garment, or any social conventionality; it does\nnot supersede individuality, either personal or national, but engrafts\nitself upon it and makes it serve a higher purpose. It does not address\nitself exclusively to one branch of human development, but cultivates\nthem all, each in its turn, making them subservient at last to the\nspiritual interests of the soul.\n\n\n\n\nTO A FRIEND.\n\n\n  If ever, lady, any word of mine,\n  Spoken in sorrow, came to thy own heart\n  With any sense of comfort or of peace,\n  My sorrow that before was half divine\n  Becomes a joy! and I would never part\n  With its remembrance. Why should sorrow cease\n  That makes one happy? I would rather twine\n  Roses than cypress round a grief so dear;\n  And I could set as in an emerald shrine\n  That sadness in my soul for evermore.\n  How gladly would I live that evening o\u2019er\n  Thinking of thee! Not vain, amid the scenes\n  Of that proud park, my mood was, from the shore\n  Watching the slow state of those ermined queens.\n\n\n\n\nGRAPES AND THORNS.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\nA GLANCE FROM MR. SCH\u00d6NINGER.\n\nNONE but people of routine ever used their prayer-books while F.\nChevreuse was reading or singing Mass, and it was seldom that even such\npeople used them the first time they heard him; for it was not enough\nthat those who assisted should unite their intention with that of the\npriest, and then pray their own prayers, recalled now and then to the\naltar by the sound of the bell: their whole attention was riveted there\nfrom the first.\n\nThat penetrating voice, which enunciated every word with such exquisite\nclearness, speaking rapidly only because so earnest, was heard\nthroughout the church, and its vivid emphasis gave new life to every\nprayer of the service. When F. Chevreuse said _Dominus vobiscum!_ one\nreplied as a matter of course\u2014would as soon, indeed, have neglected to\nanswer his face-to-face greeting on the street as this from the altar;\nthe _Orate, fratres_, compelled the listener to pray; and, at the\n_Domine, non sum dignus_, one felt confounded and abashed.\n\nWas it, then, you asked yourself, the first time this priest had\nsaid Mass, that he should stand so like a man who sees a vision? No;\nF. Chevreuse had been fifteen years a priest. Had he, perhaps, an\nintellect more high than the ordinary, or a superior sanctity? No,\nagain; though a clearer mind or a nobler Christian soul one would\nscarcely wish to see. The peculiarity lay chiefly, we should guess, in\na large, impassioned, and generous heart, which, like a strong fountain\nfor ever tossing up its freshening tide, overflowed his being, and\nmade even the driest facts bud and blossom perennially. In that heart,\nnothing worthy of life ever faded or grew old. Its possessions were\ndowered with the freshness of immortal youth.\n\nStill, these gifts might have been partially ineffectual if nature had\nnot added to them a sanguine temperament, and the priceless blessing\nof a body capable of enduring severe and prolonged labor. F. Chevreuse\nwas spared that misery of a bright intelligence and an active will for\never pent and thwarted by physical incompetence, the soul by its nature\nconstantly compelled to issue mandates to the body, which the body by\nits weakness is as inevitably compelled to disobey. In that wide brain\nof his, thoughts had ample elbow-room, and could range themselves\nwithout crowding or confusion; and the broad shoulders and deep chest\nshowed with what full breathing the flame of life was fanned. His mind\nwas always working, yet there was no sign of a feverish head; the eyes\nwere steady, and the close-cut gray hair grew so thick as to form a\ncrown.\n\nFor the rest, let his life speak. We respect the privacy of such a\nsoul; and, though we would fain show him real and admirable, we sketch\nF. Chevreuse with a shy pencil.\n\nThe church of S. John was a new and unfinished one on Church Street.\nThis street ran east and west, parallel with the Cocheco, and half-way\nup the South Hill, which here sloped so abruptly that the buildings\non the lower side had one more story at the rear than in front, and\nthose on the upper side one more story in front than at the rear. In\nconsequence of this deceptive appearance, those who liked to put the\nbest foot forward preferred to live on the upper side, though it doomed\nthem to a north light in their houses, while those who thought more of\ncomfort than of display chose the other side with a southward frontage.\n\nThe church was set back so as to leave a square in front, and its\nentrance was but four or five steps above the street; but at the back a\nlarge and well-lighted basement was visible. The priest\u2019s house stood\nclose to the street, on the eastern side of this square, and so near\nthat between the back corner of its main part and the front corner of\nthe church there was scarcely space for two persons to stand abreast.\nThis narrow passage, screened by a yard or so of iron railing, gave\naccess to a long flight of stairs that led to the basements of the\nchurch and of the house.\n\nSeen from the front, this house was a little, melancholy,\nrain-streaked, wooden cottage, which might be regarded as a blot upon\nthe grandeur of the church, or an admirable foil for it, as one had\na mind to think. The door opened almost on the sidewalk, and beside\nthe door were two dismal windows with the curtains down. In the space\nabove, another curtained window was set between the two sharp slants of\nthe roof. On the side opposite the church, where a lane ran down to the\nnext street, the prospect was more cheering. You saw there an L as wide\nas the main building, though not so deep, and projecting from it so as\nto give another street door at the end of a veranda, and allow space\nfor two windows at the rear of the house. This L was Mrs. Chevreuse\u2019s\npeculiar domain, as the house was that of the priest. Her sitting-room\nand bedroom were here; and no one acquainted with the customs of the\nplace ever came to the veranda door unless they could claim an intimate\nfriendship with the priest\u2019s mother.\n\nThe parlor with the two dismal front windows beside the entrance\nwas used as a reception-room. Back of that was the priest\u2019s private\nsitting-room, with two windows looking out on the veranda, and one\nwindow commanding the basement entrance of the church, the pleasant\ngreen space around it, and the flight of stairs that led up to the\nstreet. F. Chevreuse\u2019s arm-chair and writing-table always stood in this\nwindow, and behind them was a door leading into a little side-room\ncontaining a strong desk where he kept papers and money, and a sofa on\nwhich he took an occasional nap.\n\nUp-stairs were two sleeping-rooms; down-stairs, as the hill sloped, the\nkitchen, dining-room, and the two rooms occupied by Jane, the cook, and\nAndrew, the priest\u2019s man. There was space enough in the house, and it\nhad the charm of irregularity; but from the street, as we have said, it\nwas a melancholy-looking structure. F. Chevreuse, however, could not\nhave been better pleased with it had it been a palace. Within, all was\ncomfort and love for him; and he probably never looked at the outside.\nThe new church and his people engrossed his thoughts.\n\nMrs. Chevreuse was not so indifferent. \u201cIt would not look well for\nme to go up on a ladder, and paint the outside walls,\u201d she said to\nherself, her only confidant in such matters; \u201cbut, if it could be\nturned inside-out for one day, I would quickly have it looking less\nlike an urchin with a soiled face.\u201d\n\nNo one could doubt this assertion after having seen the interior of\nthis castle of the rueful countenance. There she could go up on a\nladder without shocking any one, and from basement to attic the place\nwas as fresh as a rose. But the nicety was never intrusive. This lady\u2019s\nhouse-keeping perspective was admirably arranged, and her point of view\nthe right one. Cleanliness and order dwelt with her, not as tyrants,\nbut as good fairies who were visible only when looked for. If you\nshould chance to think of it, you would observe that everything which\nshould be polished shone like a mirror; that the white was immaculate,\nthe windows clear, and the furniture well-placed. You might recollect\nthat the door was never opened for you by an untidy house-maid, and\nthat no odors from the kitchen ever saluted your nostrils on entering,\nthough a bouquet on the stair-post sometimes breathed a fragrant\nwelcome.\n\nNow, housekeepers know that the observance of all these little details\nof order and good taste involves a great deal of care and labor; but\nthey sometimes forget that their exquisite _m\u00e9nage_ loses its principal\ncharm when the care and labor are made manifest. It cannot be denied\nthat the temptation is strong now and then to let C\u00e6sar know by what\npains we produce these apparently simple results, which he takes as a\nmatter of course; but, when the temptation is yielded to, the results\ncease to be entirely pleasing. The unhappy man becomes afraid to walk\non our carpets, to touch our door-knobs, to sit in our chairs, eat\neggs with our spoons, lay his odious pipe on our best table-cover, or\ntie the curtains into a knot. The touching confidence with which he\nwas wont to ask that an elaborate dinner might be prepared for him in\nfifteen minutes vanishes from his face like a rainbow tint that leaves\nthe cloud behind. \u201cA cold lunch will do,\u201d he tells you resignedly, and\nyou detect incipient dyspepsia in his countenance. The free motions\nthat seemed to feel infinite space about them are no more. The anxious\nhero pulls his toga about him in the most undignified and ungraceful\nmanner, lest it should upset a flower-pot or a chair. In fine, the\ntormenting gadfly of our neatness stings him up and down his days, till\nhe would fain seek refuge and rest in disorder.\n\nMother Chevreuse knew all this perfectly, and behaved herself in so\nheroic a manner that her son never suspected, what was quite true, that\nthe unnecessary steps he caused her might make several miles a day.\n\nOne morning after early Mass, toward the last of May, she seated\nherself in the arm-chair by the window, and watched for the priest to\ncome in from the church. This was a part of her daily programme, and\nthe only time of day she ever occupied what she called his throne.\nAfter his breakfast, they did not meet, save incidentally, till\nsupper-time; for, except when they had company, F. Chevreuse dined\nalone. The mother had perceived that, when they dined together, there\nhad been a struggle between the sense of duty and courtesy which made\nhim wish to entertain her, and the abstraction he naturally felt in the\nmidst of the cares and labors of the day, and, ever on the watch lest\nshe should in any way intrude on his vocation, had herself made this\narrangement. The fact that he did not oppose it was a sufficient proof\nthat it was agreeable to him.\n\nThis mother was the softer type of her son, as though what you would\ncarve in granite you should first mould in wax. There was the same\ncompact form, telling of health, strength, and activity, the same\nclear eyes, the same thick gray hair crowning a forehead more wide\nthan high. Their expressions differed as their circumstances did;\ncheerfulness and good sense were common to both; but, where the priest\nwas authoritative, the woman was dignified.\n\nPresently her face brightened, for the fold of a black robe showed\nsome one standing just inside the chapel door, and the next moment\nF. Chevreuse appeared, his hands clasped behind him, his face bent\nthoughtfully downward. Seeing him thus for the first time, you are\nsurprised to find him only medium height. At the altar, he had appeared\ntall. You might wonder, too, what great beauty his admirers found in\nhim. But scarcely had the doubt formed itself in your mind, before\nit was triumphantly answered. The priest\u2019s first step was into a\nshadow, his second into sunlight; and, as that light smote him, he\nlifted his head quickly, and a smile broke over his face. Wheeling\nabout, he fronted the east. The river-courses had hollowed out a deep\nravine between him and the sunrise, and the tide of glory flowed in\nand filled that from rim to rim, and curled over the green hills like\nwine-froth over a beaker. He stood gazing, smiling and undazzled, his\nface illuminated from within as from without. It might be said of F.\nChevreuse, as it was of William Blake, that, when the sun rose \u201che did\nnot see a round, fiery disk somewhat like a guinea, but an innumerable\ncompany of the heavenly hosts crying, \u2018Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God\nAlmighty!\u2019\u201d\n\nThe mother watched, but did not interrupt him. She knew well that such\nmoments were fruitful, and that he was storing away in his mind the\nprecious vintage of that spring morning to bring it forth again at some\nfuture time fragrant with the bouquet of a spiritual significance.\n\u201cGlimpses of God,\u201d she called such moods.\n\nHe threw his head back, and, with a swift glance, took in the whole\nscene; the fleckless blue overhead, the closely gathered city beneath,\nthe lights and shades that played in the dewy greensward at his feet,\nand, turning about, his mother\u2019s loving face\u2014a fit climax for the\nmorning.\n\n\u201c_Bon jour, M\u00e8re Chevreuse!_\u201d he called out, touching his _barrette_.\n\nAs he disappeared into the house, Mrs. Chevreuse went into her own\nsitting-room, which opened from his, and gave a last glance at the\ntable prepared for his breakfast. The preparation was not elaborate. A\nlittle stand by the eastern window held a pitcher of milk, a bowl and\nspoon, and a napkin; and Jane, following the priest up-stairs, added a\ndish of oatmeal pudding.\n\nF. Chevreuse walked briskly through the entry, and threw the street\ndoor wide open, then came back singing, \u201cLift up your heads, O ye\ngates, and the King of glory shall come in!\u201d and continued, as he\nentered the room, his voice hardly settled from song to speech, \u201cWhat\ncreated things are more like the King of glory than light and air? They\nare as his glance and his breath.\u201d\n\nThe look that met his was sympathizing, but the words that replied were\nscarcely an answer to his question. \u201cYour breakfast is cooling, F.\nChevreuse,\u201d she said.\n\nHe took no heed, but, clasping his hands behind him, walked to and\nfro with a step that showed flying would have been the more congenial\nmotion.\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d he exclaimed, \u201cthe mysteries of human nature are as\ninscrutable as the mysteries of God. Would the angels believe, if they\nhad not seen, that a Mass has been said this morning here in the midst\nof a crowded city, with only a score or so of persons to assist? Why\nwas not the church thronged with worshippers, and thousands pressing\noutside to kiss the foundation-stones? When I turned with the _Ecce\nAgnus Dei_, why did not all present fall with their faces to the floor?\nAnd when Miss Honora Pembroke walked away from the communion-railing,\nwhy did not every one look at her with wonder and admiration?\u2014the\nwoman who bore her God in her bosom! And just now, when the sun\nrose\u201d\u2014he stopped and looked at his mother with a combative air\u2014\u201cwhy\ndid not the people look up and hail it as the signet of the Almighty?\u201d\n\nMother Chevreuse smiled pleasantly. She was used to being set up as a\ntarget for these unanswerable questions, especially in the morning, at\nwhich time the priest was likely to be, as Jane expressed it, \u201crather\nhigh in his mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you could take your breakfast, my son,\u201d she suggested.\n\n\u201cBreakfast!\u201d He glanced with a look of aversion at the table that held\nhis frugal meal, considered a moment, recognized the propriety of its\nexistence, finally seated himself in his place, and began to eat with a\nvery good appetite. \u201cYou were quite right, my lady,\u201d he remarked; \u201cthe\nsunshine was drinking my milk all up. What thirsty creatures they are,\nthose beams!\u201d\n\nLet it not be supposed that F. Chevreuse was so ascetical as never to\neat except when urged to do so. On the contrary, he took good care to\nkeep up the health and strength necessary for the performance of his\nmultiform duties as the only priest in a large parish, and he used a\nwise discrimination in allowing others to fast. \u201cSome fasting is almost\nas bad as feasting,\u201d he used to say. \u201cBesides injuring the health,\nit clogs the soul. You look down upon eating when you have dined\nmoderately; but, when you have fasted immoderately, the idea of dinner\nis elevated till it becomes a constellation. I do not wish to starve,\ntill, when I kneel down and raise my eyes, I can think of nothing but\nroast beef. Asceticism is not an end, but a means.\u201d\n\n\u201cMother,\u201d he said presently, laying down his spoon, \u201cwhy is it that the\noatmeal and milk I get at home are better than that I find anywhere\nelse?\u201d\n\n\u201cChildren always think the food they get at home better than what they\nget abroad,\u201d she replied tranquilly.\n\nWhy should she tell him that what he called milk was cream, and that\nthe making of that \u201cstirabout\u201d was a fine-art, which had been taught\nJane line upon line, and precept upon precept, till every grain dropped\naccording to rule, and the motion of the pudding spoon was as exact as\na sonnet? Instead of being pleased, he would have been disturbed to\nknow that so much pains had been taken for him.\n\n\u201cI like no earthly comfort that has cost any one much trouble or pain,\u201d\nhe would say. Like most persons who have been spared the petty cares of\nlife, he did not know that in this discordant world there is no earthly\ncomfort to any one which is not a pain to some other.\n\nBreakfast over, the priest went promptly about his business; and\nMrs. Chevreuse, shutting the door between their rooms, brought her\nwork-basket to the stand where the tray had been, and seated herself to\nmend a rent in a _soutane_.\n\nIt was a pleasant room, with its one window toward the church, and an\nopposite one looking over the city and the distant hills, and most\nenticingly comfortable, with deep chairs, convenient tables, and tiny\nstands always within reach, and an open fireplace which was seldom,\nsave at mid-summer, without its little glimmer of fire at some time of\nday. And even then, if the day was chilly or overcast, the fact that\nit was mid-summer did not prevent the kindling of Mother Chevreuse\u2019s\nbeltane flame. From this room and the bedroom behind it could be heard\non still nights the dashing of the Cocheco among its rocks.\n\nMrs. Chevreuse worked and thought. The sunbeams sparkled on the\nscissors, needles, bodkins, and whatever bright thing it could find in\nher work-basket, on her eyeglasses and thimble, on the smooth-worn gold\nof her wedding-ring, and the tiny needle weaving deftly to and fro in\nan almost invisible darn, of which the lady was not a little proud. Her\nmind wove, too; not those flimsy fancies of youth so like spider\u2019s webs\nupon the grass, that glitter only when the morning dew is on them: the\nthreads of her dream-tapestry ended in heaven, though begun on earth,\nand their severance could only change hope into fruition. And all the\ntime, while hand and heart slipped to and fro, the lady was aware of\neverything that went on in the house. She heard Andrew come into the\nnext room with the morning mail, heard the sound of voices while he\nreceived his orders for the day, heard him go clumping down-stairs,\nand out through the kitchen into the chapel. Presently the clumping\nresounded outside, and, glancing across the room, she saw the old man\nstanding on the basement stairs, his head on a level with her window,\nlooking at her across the space that intervened, and gesticulating,\nwith a twinkling candlestick in each hand.\n\nMother Chevreuse, still holding her work, went and threw the sash up.\n\n\u201cI think, madame, begging your pardon, that I can clean these just as\nwell as you can,\u201d says Andrew, with a very positive nod and a little\nshake that set all the glass drops twinkling and tinkling.\n\n\u201cDo you, Andrew?\u201d returned madame pleasantly. \u201cVery well, then, you can\nclean them, and save me the trouble. But don\u2019t forget to rub all the\nwhiting out of the creases.\u201d\n\nAndrew changed countenance as he turned slowly about to descend the\nstairs. Mrs. Chevreuse had been gradually taking the care of the altar\nfrom his rather careless hands, and this had been his diplomatic way of\nescaping the candlestick cleaning of that day without asking her to do\nit. He hobbled down-stairs again discomfited, and the lady went smiling\nback to her work.\n\n\u201cIt is all very well for Sharp\u2019s rifles,\u201d she remarked, threading her\nneedle; \u201cbut I don\u2019t like being fired at in that spiral manner.\u201d\n\nStill weaving again with hand and heart, she heard Jane going about,\nlike a neat household machine doing everything in its exact time and\nplace, severe on interruption, merciless on mud or dust, ever ready\nto have a skirmish on these grounds with Andrew; she heard the rattle\nof paper from the next room, as letters and parcels were opened, the\nscratching of F. Chevreuse\u2019s quill as he wrote answers to one or two\ncorrespondents, or made up accounts, and the little tap with which he\npressed the stamp upon the letters.\n\nHow peaceful and sweet her life was, all she loved within reach, all\nshe hoped for so sure! She breathed a sigh of thanksgiving, then\ndropped her work and listened; for the priest was preparing to go out.\nEvery morning was spent by him in collecting for his church. He had\nfound in Crichton a thousand or more practical Catholics, with one\nshabby old chapel to worship in, and nearly as many nominal Catholics\nwho did not worship at all; and in three years, with scarcely any\ncapital to begin with besides faith, he had raised and nearly finished\na large and beautiful church, and gathered into it the greater part of\nthe wanderers.\n\n\u201cBe prudent, my son!\u201d the mother had warned him when he began what\nseemed so venturesome an enterprise.\n\n\u201cI am so,\u201d he replied, with decision. \u201cIt would be the height of\nimprudence to leave these people any longer straying like lost sheep.\nWhen the Master of the universe commands that a house be built for him,\nis it for me to fear he will not be able to pay for it?\u201d\n\nShe said no more. Mme. Chevreuse always remembered to distinguish\nbetween the son and the priest, and was never more proud of her\nmotherhood than when her natural authority was confronted by the\nsupernatural authority of her child. But she always sighed when he\nstarted on a collecting-tour, for his faith had to be supplemented by\nhard work, and often he came back worn with fatigue, and depressed by\nthe sights of poverty, sorrow, and sin he had witnessed.\n\nAll had gone well with the church, however\u2014so well that a new\nenterprise had been added, and a convent school was just making its\nsmall beginning in Crichton.\n\n\u201cIs madame visible?\u201d asked a voice smothered against the door.\n\n\u201c_Entrez!_\u201d she answered gaily; and the priest put his head in.\n\n\u201cSay a little prayer to S. Joseph for F. Chevreuse to-day,\u201d he said;\n\u201cfor he is collecting for the great note.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d She looked anxiously at him, and met a reassuring smile in return.\n\n\u201cNever fear, mother!\u201d he said cheerfully. \u201cDo not all the houses and\nlands belong to God?\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly!\u201d she answered, but sighed to herself as he went away: \u201cit\nis very true they all belong to God, but I\u2019m afraid the devil has some\nvery heavy mortgages on them.\u201d\n\nLater in the day, Miss Ferrier called for Mrs. Chevreuse to go out and\nvisit the sisters at the new convent. \u201cI have taken all I could think\nof this morning,\u201d she said, and enumerated various useful articles. \u201cI\nsuppose they want nearly everything.\u201d\n\nMrs. Chevreuse commended her liberality. \u201cBut I am glad you did not\nthink of cordage,\u201d she added; \u201cfor that is the very thing I did\nremember.\u201d\n\nShe opened a large basket, and laughingly displayed a collection of\nropes and cords varying from coils of clothes-line and curtain-cord to\nballs of fine pink twine. \u201cJane\u2019s clothes-line gave out yesterday,\u201d she\nsaid, \u201cand that made me think of this.\u201d\n\nMiss Ferrier gave a little shiver and shrug. \u201cIt is very nice and\nuseful, I know; but ropes always remind me of hanging.\u201d\n\n\u201cNaturally,\u201d returned the lady, tying on her bonnet: \u201cthat is their\nvocation.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut hanging is such a dreadful punishment!\u201d And the young woman\nshivered again.\n\n\u201cWhy, my pictures seem to enjoy it,\u201d Mrs. Chevreuse replied,\npersistently cheerful.\n\n\u201cNow, really, madame\u2014\u201c\n\n\u201cNow, really, mademoiselle,\u201d was the laughing interruption, \u201cwhat has\nput your thoughts on such a track this morning? If you want my opinion\non the subject, I cannot give it, for I have none. All I can say is\nthat, if I thought any one were destined to kill me, I would instantly\nwrite and sign a petition for his pardon, and leave it to be presented\nto the governor and council at the proper time. Think of something\npleasant. I am ready now. We will go out through the house.\u201d\n\nShe locked the veranda door, and put the key in her pocket. \u201cI have\nonly to give Jane an order. Jane!\u201d she called, leaning out the window.\n\nA head appeared from the kitchen window beneath, and the mistress gave\nher order down the outside of the house. \u201cIt saves so much going up and\ndown stairs for two old women,\u201d she explained. \u201cNow, my dear.\u201d\n\nThey went into the priest\u2019s sitting-room, and again the door was\nlocked behind them, and the key this time hung on a nail over the\nwriting-table. \u201cWait a moment,\u201d said madame then, and began picking\nup bits of paper scattered about the room. The priest had torn up a\nletter, and absently dropped the fragments on the carpet instead of\ninto the waste-basket, and a breeze had been playing with them.\n\n\u201cHow provoking men are,\u201d remarked Miss Ferrier, stooping for a fragment\nwhich a puff of air instantly caught away from her.\n\n\u201cAre they?\u201d asked Mrs. Chevreuse quietly. \u201cI do not know, I have so\nlittle to do with them. Most people are provoking sometimes, I dare\nsay.\u201d\n\nHaving made a second ineffectual dive for the strip of paper, the young\nwoman had not patience enough left to bear so cool an evasion. \u201cF.\nChevreuse deserves a scolding for strewing this about,\u201d she said.\n\nThe mother glanced at her with that sort of surprise which is more\ndisconcerting than anger. Miss Ferrier blushed, but would not be so\nsilenced.\n\n\u201cIf you should oblige him to pick them up once,\u201d she continued, \u201cthat\nwould cure him.\u201d\n\n\u201cOblige him!\u201d repeated the mother with a more emphasized coldness. \u201cI\nnever oblige F. Chevreuse to do anything. I should not dream of calling\nhis attention to such a trifle. He has higher affairs on his mind. Now\nwe will go.\u201d\n\nTheir drive took them through the town by its longest avenue, Main\nStreet, which followed the Saranac half-way to its source. School\nchildren in Crichton looked on Main Street as their meridian of\nlongitude, and were under the impression that it reached from pole\nto pole. It crossed the Cocheco by the central one of three parallel\nbridges, climbed straight up the steep North Height, and stretched out\ninto the country. The convent grounds were on the west bank of the\nSaranac, twenty acres of rough land, roughly enclosed, with an old\ntumble-down house that had been a tavern in the early days of Crichton.\nIt was a desolate-looking place, with not a tree nor flower to be seen,\nbut needed only time and labor to become a little Eden.\n\nIn the eyes of Sister Cecilia it was even now an Eden. Her ardent\nand generous nature, made still brighter by a beautiful Christian\nenthusiasm, saw in advance the blossom and fruit of unplanted trees,\nand seeds yet in the paper. Full of delight to her was all this\nplanning and labor.\n\nShe was out-doors when the carriage drove up, in earnest consultation\nwith two workmen, directing the laying out of the kitchen-garden, and,\nrecognizing her visitors, hastened toward them with a cordial welcome.\nSister Cecilia was a little over forty years of age, tall and graceful,\nand had one of those sunny faces that show heaven is already begun\nin the heart. When she smiled, the sparkling of her deep-blue eyes\nbetrayed mirth and humor.\n\n\u201cDread the labor?\u201d she exclaimed, in answer to a question from Miss\nFerrier. \u201cIndeed not! I was so charmed with the idea of coming to this\nwild place that I had a scruple about it, and was almost afraid I ought\nnot to be indulged. It is always delightful to begin at the beginning,\nand see the effect of your work.\u201d\n\nShe led them about the place and told her plans. Here a grove was to be\nplanted, there the path would wind, vines would be trained against this\nstone wall.\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t see any stone wall,\u201d protested Miss Ferrier.\n\nSister Cecilia laughed. \u201cI see it distinctly, and so will you next\nyear. There are piles of stones on the land which will save us a good\ndeal of money; and we are very likely to have some work done for\nnothing. Do you know how kind the laborers are to us? Twenty men have\noffered to do each a day\u2019s work in our garden free of charge. Those\nare two of them. Now, here we are going to have a large arbor covered\nwith honeysuckle and roses. It must be closed on the east side, because\nthere will be a river-road outside the wall some day, and we should be\nvisible from it. But the south side will be all open, so we can sit\nunder the roses and look down that beautiful river and over all the\ncity. You see the knoll was made on purpose for an arbor.\u201d\n\nAs they went into the house, a slender shape glided past in the dusk\nof the further entry. The light from a roof window, shining down the\nstairs, revealed a face like a lily drooped a little sidewise, a wealth\nof brown hair gathered back, and a sweet, shy smile. It was as though\nsome one had carried a lighted waxen taper through the shadows where\nshe disappeared.\n\n\u201cIt is Anita!\u201d exclaimed Miss Ferrier, stopping on the threshold of the\nparlor. \u201cWhy did she not come to us?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat dear Anita!\u201d said the sister. \u201cShe has a piano lesson to give\nat this hour, and would not dream of turning aside from the shortest\nroad to the music-room. If you were her own mother, Mme. Chevreuse, she\nwould not come to you without permission. Yet such a tender, loving\ncreature I never knew before. Obedience is the law of her life. Next\nspring she will begin her novitiate.\u201d\n\nThe house was looked over, the other sisters seen, and the offerings\nbrought them duly presented and acknowledged; then the two ladies\nstarted for home.\n\nMiss Ferrier was rather silent when they were alone. She had not\nforgotten the reproof of the morning, and she felt aggrieved by it.\nMrs. Chevreuse had known that she was but jesting, and might have been\na little less touchy, she thought. What was the matter that almost\nevery one was finding fault with her lately? Her mother accused her\nof being cross and captious, her lover found her exacting, and Mrs.\nGerald had thought her too assuming on one occasion, and yet all she\nwas conscious of was a blind feeling of loss\u2014some such sense as\ndeep-buried roots may have when the sky grows dark over the tree\nabove. Little things that once would have passed by like the idle wind\nnow had power to make her shrink, as the lightest touch will hurt\na sore; and trifles that had once given her pleasure now fell dead\nand flat. The time had been when the mere driving through the city\nin her showy carriage had elated her, when she had sat in delighted\nconsciousness of the satin cushions, the glittering harness and\nwheels, and even of the band on the coachman\u2019s hat and the capes that\nfluttered from his shoulders. Now they sometimes gave her a feeling\nof weary disgust, and she assured herself that she knew not why. If\nany suspicion glanced across her mind that a worm was eating into the\nvery centre of her rose of life, and the outer petals withered merely\nbecause the heart was withering, she shut her eyes to it, and kept\nseeking here and there for comfort, but found none. Honora was the\nonly person who ever really soothed her; and, for some reason, or for\nno reason, even Honora\u2019s soothing now and then held a sting that was\nkeenly felt.\n\n\u201cIs it possible she is resenting my reproof?\u201d thought Mrs. Chevreuse,\nand exerted herself to be pleasant and friendly, but without much\nsuccess. Miss Ferrier\u2019s affected gaiety was gone, and she had no\ndisposition to resume it.\n\n\u201cShe is not so good-tempered as I believed,\u201d the priest\u2019s mother\nthought when they parted, with one of those unjust judgments which the\ngood form quite as often as the bad.\n\nMiss Ferrier drove on homeward. She had no need to tell the coachman\nwhich way to drive, nor how, for he knew perfectly well that he was to\nmake his horses prance slowly through Bank Street, where, in a certain\ninsurance office up one flight of a granite building, Mr. Lawrence\nGerald bit his nails and fumed over a clerk\u2019s desk, and half attended\nto his business while inwardly protesting against what he called his\nmisfortunes. Perhaps his desk faced the window, or maybe his companions\nwere good enough to call his attention to it; for it seldom happened\nthat Miss Ferrier, glancing up, did not see him waiting to bow to her.\nHe did not love the girl, but he felt a trivial pride in contemplating\nthe evidences of that wealth which was one day to be his unless he\nshould change his mind. He sometimes admitted the possibility of the\nlatter alternative.\n\nTo-day he was not at the window; but his lady-love had hardly time\nto be conscious of disappointment, when she saw him lounging in the\ndoorway down-stairs. He came listlessly out as the carriage drew up,\nand at the same moment Miss Lily Carthusen appeared from a shop near\nby, and joined them. This young lady took a good deal of exercise in\nthe open air, and might be met almost any time, and always with the\nlatest news to tell.\n\n\u201cI congratulate you both,\u201d she said, in her sprightliest manner. \u201cThat\ndreadful organist of yours has put his wrist out of joint, and cannot\nplay again for a month or two. Isn\u2019t it delightful?\u201d She laughed\nelfishly. \u201cHaven\u2019t you heard of it? Oh! yes; it is true. It happened\nthis morning when he came down the dark stairway in his boarding-house.\nHe tumbled against the dear old balusters, and put his wrist out. I\nnever before knew the good of dark stairways.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, Lily! aren\u2019t you ashamed?\u201d remonstrated Miss Ferrier, smiling\nfaintly.\n\n\u201cDo you think I ought to be ashamed?\u201d inquired Miss Lily, with an\ningenuous expression in her large, light-blue eyes.\n\n\u201cYes; I do,\u201d replied Miss Ferrier, much edified.\n\n\u201cWell, then, I won\u2019t,\u201d was the satisfactory conclusion.\n\n\u201cI am sorry for Mr. Glover,\u201d Miss Ferrier remarked gravely.\n\n\u201cNow, my dear mademoiselle, please don\u2019t be so crushingly good!\u201d cried\nthe other. \u201cYou know perfectly well that he plays execrably, and spoils\nthe singing of your beautiful choir; and you know that you would be\nperfectly delighted if F. Chevreuse would pension him off. Don\u2019t try to\nlook grieved, for you can\u2019t.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t pretend to be a saint, Miss Carthusen,\u201d said Annette, dropping\nher eyes.\n\n\u201cAnd I don\u2019t pretend to be a sinner,\u201d was the mocking retort.\n\nMr. Gerald smiled at this little duel, as men are wont to smile at such\nscenes. It did not hurt him, and it did amuse him.\n\n\u201cBut the best part of the business is that F. Chevreuse has asked Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger to play in his stead,\u201d pursued the news-bringer. \u201cHe has\nwritten a note requesting him to call there this evening.\u201d\n\nMiss Ferrier drew her shawl about her, and leaned back against the\ncushions. She had an air of dismissing the subject and the company\nwhich, not being either rude or affected, was so near being stately\nthat Mr. Gerald was pleased with it, and, to reward her, begged an\ninvitation to lunch.\n\n\u201cI had just come out for my daily sandwich,\u201d he said; \u201cbut if you will\ntake pity on me\u2014\u201c\n\nShe smilingly made room for him by her side, and drove off full of\ndelight.\n\nThe afternoon waned, and, as evening approached, Mrs. Chevreuse sat\nin her own room again, waiting for the priest to come home. She had\nvisited her sick and poor, looked to her household affairs, stepped\ninto the church to arrange some fresh flowers, and see that the\ncandlesticks shone with spotless brilliancy, and was now trying to\ninterest herself in a book while she waited. But it was hard to fix\nher attention; it constantly wandered from the page. Jane had heard\nand told her of the accident to their organist, and the rumor that\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger was to take his place; but had not told the news by\nany means with the glee of a Lily Carthusen. On the contrary, it had\nseemed to her mind an almost incredible horror that a Jew was to take\nany part in a service performed before the altar whereon the Lord of\nheaven was enthroned. To Jane\u2019s mind, every Jew was a Judas. That he\ncould be moral, that he could adore his Creator and pray earnestly\nfor forgiveness of his sins, she did not for an instant believe. The\nworst criminal, if nominally a Catholic, was in her eyes infinitely\npreferable to the best Jew in the world.\n\n\u201cAndrew declared it was so, madame, and that he carried a note to that\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger before dinner,\u201d she said, concluding her lamentation;\n\u201cbut nothing will make me believe it till I hear F. Chevreuse say so\nwith his own mouth.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! well, don\u2019t distress yourself about it, Jane,\u201d her mistress\nreplied soothingly. \u201cPerhaps it is a mistake; but, if it is not, you\nmay be sure that F. Chevreuse knows best. He always has good reasons\nfor what he does. Besides, we must be charitable. Who knows but the\nservices of the church and our prayers might, by the blessing of God,\nconvert this man.\u201d\n\n\u201cConvert a rattlesnake!\u201d cried Jane, too much excited to be respectful.\n\nBut Mrs. Chevreuse, though she had spoken soothingly to her\nsubordinate, was not herself altogether satisfied. She was a woman\nof large mind and heart; yet, if any one people in the world came\nlast in her regard, it was the Jewish people. Moreover, she had seen\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger but once, and then at an unfortunate moment when\nsomething had occurred to draw that strange blank look over his face.\nThe impression left on her mind was an unpleasant one that there was\nsomething dark and secret in the man.\n\n\u201cOf course it will all be right,\u201d she said to herself, annoyed that she\nshould feel disturbed for such a cause. \u201cI am foolish to think of it.\u201d\n\nThe street door was opened and left wide, after F. Chevreuse\u2019s fashion,\nand she heard his quick, light step in the entry. Dropping her book,\nshe smiled involuntarily at the sound. How sweet to a woman is this\nnightly coming home of father, son, or husband! He came in, went to\nthe inner room, and opened and closed his desk, then returned to the\nsitting-room, threw up the corner window, from which he could see into\nher apartment, and seated himself in his arm-chair, leaning forward as\nhe did so to bow a smiling recognition across to her. His day\u2019s work\nwas as nearly over as it could be. In the morning, he must go out to\nmeet his duties; in the evening, they must seek him. The hour for their\nsocial life had come; and though subject to constant interruptions, so\nthat scarcely ten minutes at a time were left them for confidential\nintercourse, they were free to snatch what they could get.\n\nMrs. Chevreuse put her book away, and opened the door between the two\nsitting-rooms. \u201cFather,\u201d she said immediately, \u201cis it true that you are\ngoing to have that Jew play the organ at S. John\u2019s?\u201d\n\nThe priest rose hastily, and his mother\u2019s foot was arrested on\nthe threshold; for just opposite her, coming into the room from\nthe entry, was Miss Lily Carthusen, leading a little girl by the\nhand, and followed by \u201cthat Jew\u201d; while, in wrathful perspective,\nlike a thunder-head on the horizon, gloomed the face of Jane, the\nservant-woman.\n\nThe silence was only for the space of a lightning-flash, and the flash\nwas not wanting; it shot across the room from a pair of eyes that\nlooked as though they might sear to ashes what they gazed upon in\nanger. The next moment, the eyes drooped, and their owner was bowing to\nF. Chevreuse.\n\nMiss Carthusen was perfectly self-possessed and voluble, seeming to\nhave heard nothing. \u201cThis little wilful girl would come with Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger, madame,\u201d she said; \u201cand, as he is not going back, I was\nobliged to come and see her home again safely.\u201d\n\nThe truth was that Miss Lily, who boarded in the same house with the\ngentleman, had encouraged the child to come, in order that she might\naccompany her.\n\nF. Chevreuse had blushed slightly but he showed no other embarrassment.\nIt was the first time that Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger had entered his house, and he\nwelcomed him with a more marked cordiality, perhaps, on account of the\nunfortunate speech which had greeted his coming.\n\n\u201cYou are welcome, sir! I thank you for taking the trouble to come to\nme. It was my place to call on you, but my engagements left me no time.\nAllow me to present you to my mother, Mme. Chevreuse.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy mother\u201d had probably never been placed in so disagreeable\na position, but her behavior was admirable. The man she had\ninvoluntarily insulted was forced to admit that nothing could be\nmore perfect than the respectful courtesy of her salutation, which\nmaintained with dignified sincerity the distance she really felt, while\nit expressed her regret at having intruded that feeling on him.\n\n\u201cYet they talk of charity!\u201d he thought; and the lady did not miss a\nslight curl of the lip which was not hidden by his profound obeisance.\n\nThe introduction over, she left Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger to the priest, and took\nrefuge with his little friend, since she could not with propriety leave\nthe room. The young lady was not agreeable to her. Mme. Chevreuse had\nthat pure honesty and good sense which looks with clear regards through\na murky and dissimulating nature; for, after all, it is the deceitful\nwho are most frequently duped.\n\nMiss Carthusen went flitting about the room, making herself quite\nat home. She selected a rosebud from a bouquet on the mantelpiece,\nand fastened it in madame\u2019s gray hair with her fingers as light as\nsnowflakes; she daintily abstracted the glasses the lady held, and\nput them on over her own large pale eyes. \u201cGlasses always squeeze my\neyelashes,\u201d she said; \u201cnot that they are so very long, though, at\nleast, they are not so long as Bettine von Arnim\u2019s little goose-girl\u2019s.\nHers were two inches long; and the other girls laughed at them, so that\nshe went away by herself and cried. Perhaps, beyond a certain point,\neyelashes are like endurance, and cease to be a virtue. Who is it tells\nof a young lady whose long lashes gave her an overdressed appearance in\nthe morning, so that one felt as though she ought to have a shorter set\nto come down to breakfast in?\u201d\n\nMrs. Chevreuse observed with interest the striking difference between\nthe two men who sat near her talking, both, as any one could see,\nstrong and fiery natures, yet so unlike in temper and manner. The\npriest was electrical and demonstrative; he uttered the thought that\nrose in his mind; he was a man to move the crowd, and carry all before\nhim. The ardor of the other was the steady glow of the burning coal\nthat may be hidden in darkness, and he shrank with fastidious pride\nand distrust from any revelation of the deeper feelings of his heart,\nand held in check even his passing emotions. He would have said, with\nthat Marquis de Noailles, quoted by Liszt: _Qu\u2019il n\u2019y a gu\u00e8re moyen de\ncauser de quoi que ce soit, avec qui que ce soit_; and, doubtless, he\nhad found it so.\n\nF. Chevreuse had explained his wishes: their organist was disabled, and\nthey had no one capable of taking his place. If Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger would\nconsent to take charge of their singing, he would consider it a great\nfavor.\n\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger had no engagement which would prevent his doing so,\nand it need not be looked on at all as a favor, but a mere matter of\nbusiness. His profession was music.\n\nF. Chevreuse would insist on feeling obliged, although he would waive\nthe pleasure of expressing that feeling.\n\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger intimated that it was perhaps desirable he should meet\nthe choir an hour before the evening service.\n\nThe priest had been about to make the same suggestion, and, since the\ntime was so near, would be very happy to have his visitor take supper\nwith him.\n\nThe visitor thanked him, but had just dined.\n\nNothing could be more proper and to the point, nor more utterly stiff\nand frozen, than this dialogue was. F. Chevreuse shivered, and called\nlittle Rose\u2014Rosebud, they named her\u2014to him.\n\nThe child went with a most captivating mingling of shyness and\nobedience in her air, walking a little from side to side, as a\nship beats against the wind, making way in spite of fears. Her red\ncheeks growing redder, a tremor struggling with a smile on her small\nmouth, the intrepid little blossom allowed herself to be lifted to\nthe stranger\u2019s knees, her eyes seeking her friend\u2019s for courage and\nstrength.\n\nMr. Sch\u00f6ninger smiled on his favorite with a tenderness which gave his\nface a new character, and watched curiously while the priest reassured\nand petted her till he won her attention to himself. His own experience\nand the traditions of his people had taught him to look on the Catholic\nChurch as his most deadly antagonist; yet now, in spite of all, his\nheart relented and warmed a little to one of her ministers. He knew\nbetter than to take an apparent love for children as any proof of\ngoodness\u2014some of the worst persons he had ever known were excessively\nfond of them\u2014yet it looked amiable in an honest person, and F.\nChevreuse\u2019s manner was particularly pleasant and winning.\n\nEmbarrassed by the notice bestowed on her by all, yet, with a premature\naddress, seeking to hide that embarrassment, the child glanced about\nthe room in search of some diversion. Her eyes were caught by a picture\nof the Madonna.\n\n\u201cOh! who is that pretty lady with a wedding-ring round her head?\u201d she\ncried out.\n\n\u201cShe,\u201d said F. Chevreuse, \u201cis a sweet and holy Jewish lady whom we all\nlove.\u201d\n\nThe little girl glanced apprehensively at her friend\u2014perhaps she\nhad been told never to speak the word Jew in his presence\u2014and saw a\nquick light flicker in his eyes. He was looking keenly at the priest,\nas if trying to fathom his intention. Was the man determined to win\nhim in spite of his coldness? Was it his way of making proselytes,\nthis fascinating delicacy and tenderness? He did not wish to like F.\nChevreuse; yet what could he do in the presence of that radiant charity?\n\n\u201cI think our business is done, sir,\u201d he said, rising.\n\nThe priest became matter-of-fact at once.\n\n\u201cIt is not necessary for me to make any suggestions to your good\ntaste,\u201d he said; \u201cbut I may be permitted to remark that our service\nis not merely \u00e6sthetic, but has a vital meaning, and I would like the\nmusic to be conducted earnestly.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall make it as earnest as your composers with allow, sir,\u201d the\nmusician replied, with a slightly mocking smile.\n\n\u201cMy composers!\u201d exclaimed the priest, laughing. \u201cI repudiate them. Was\nit one of my composers who wrote the music of the _Stabat Mater_, and\nset his voices pirouetting and waltzing through the woes of the Queen\nof sorrows? The world accuses Rossini of showing in that his contempt\nfor Christianity. I would not say so much. I believe he thought of\nnothing but the rhythm and the vowel-sounds.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd was it one of my composers,\u201d the Jew retorted, \u201cwho set the _Kyrie\nEleison_ I heard on passing your church last Sunday to an air as gay as\nany dance tune? If the words had been in English instead of Latin, it\nwould have sounded blasphemous.\u201d\n\nF. Chevreuse made a gesture of resignation. \u201cWhat can I do if the\nmusicians are not so pious as the painters, if they will put the sound\nin the statue, and the sense in the pedestal? My only refuge is the\nGregorian, which nobody but saints will tolerate. I am not a composer.\u201d\n\nThe call was at an end, and the visitors went.\n\nAs soon as they were in the street, Miss Carthusen observed: \u201cI notice\nthat F. Chevreuse adopts Paracelsus\u2019 method of cure: he anoints with\nfine ointment, not the wound, but the sword that made the wound.\u201d\n\nShe had been annoyed at the little attention paid to herself in\ncontrast with the honor shown the priest\u2019s mother, and wished to find\nout if Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger kept any resentment toward Mme. Chevreuse. He\nfelt her inquisitive, unscrupulous eyes searching his face in sidelong\nglances.\n\n\u201cThe priest was very courteous to me,\u201d he replied calmly. \u201cAnd I should\nthink that madame might be a very agreeable person to those she likes.\u201d\n\nThe young woman instantly launched into a glowing eulogy of the\npriest\u2019s mother, till her listener bit his lips. He was not quite ready\nto be altogether charmed with the lady.\n\n\u201cAnd, _\u00e0 propos_ of medicine,\u201d said Miss Carthusen lightly, \u201cit has\nbeen revealed to me to-day who the first hom\u0153opathist was.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it a secret?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt was Achilles,\u201d she replied. \u201cDo you not remember that nothing but\nAchilles\u2019 spear healed the wound that itself had made?\u201d\n\nAs soon as they were gone, Mme. Chevreuse turned to her son. \u201cNeed I\nsay how sorry I am?\u201d she exclaimed.\n\nTears were in her eyes. She was touched to the heart that, though\nhe must have been deeply mortified, he should still not have failed\nfor a moment to treat her with even more than ordinary courtesy and\naffection, as if to show their visitors that he did not dream of\nreproving her.\n\n\u201cI knew that you felt worse about it than I did, dear mother,\u201d he said,\ntaking her hand. \u201cAnd this will remind us both that it is not enough\nto be cautious in the expression of our thoughts. We must allow no\nuncharitable feeling to remain in our hearts.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Murder will out,\u2019\u201d he added more lightly, seeing her moved. \u201cAnd,\nafter all, isn\u2019t Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger a fine fellow?\u201d\n\nMadame made no direct reply. She could not yet be enthusiastic about\nthe Jew. \u201cI think we should have supper,\u201d she said, and went down to\nlook after Jane.\n\n\u201cO madame! did you see the look that man gave you?\u201d cried the girl.\n\n\u201cNo matter about that,\u201d the lady said calmly. \u201cIt was unfortunate that\nI should not have known he was coming. You must be careful to give\nsome sign when visitors are coming in, and not introduce them in that\nnoiseless way.\u201d\n\nMadame held, with the Duke of Wellington, that it is not wise to accuse\none\u2019s self to a servant. The humility, instead of edifying, only\nprovokes to insubordination.\n\n\u201cI was coming down from the chambers, and met them at the street door,\nmadame,\u201d Jane made haste to say; \u201cand I thought you would hear the\nsteps.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well, Jane; it\u2019s no matter. I\u2019m sure you do your duty faithfully.\nAnd now we will have supper.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHURCH AND STATE IN GERMANY.\n\nTHE new laws for the regulation and adjustment of the relations between\nchurch and state in Prussia, for the establishment of what Prince\nBismarck calls a _modus vivendi_ between the power spiritual and the\npower temporal\u2014laws which have won the approval of the liberal and\nsectarian press in Europe and America\u2014are substantially as follows:\n\n1. All Prussian citizens who wish to receive ecclesiastical functions\nmust matriculate at the state university. After matriculating, they\nmust attend the university course for three years. On concluding their\necclesiastical studies, they must pass another state examination; that\nis to say, at the university. _No candidate can be admitted to the\npriesthood unless he satisfy the state in this examination._\n\n2. The creation of new (ecclesiastical) seminaries, great or small, is\nprohibited. The seminaries already existing shall be placed under state\nsurveillance, and are forbidden to receive new scholars.\n\n3. The candidate for the priesthood who is nominated by the bishop\nmust be approved of and installed in his office by the president of\nthe province. The bishop who nominates a candidate otherwise than\nin accordance with the law, shall be punished by a fine of from 750\nfrancs to 3,750 francs ($150 to $750). The candidate submitting to such\nnomination shall be punished by a fine of from 3 francs (75 cts.) to\n375 francs.\n\n4. Ecclesiastical disciplinary power can only be exercised by\necclesiastical authorities _of German nationality_. The ecclesiastical\nfunctionaries who, by exercise of their functions, transgress the laws\nof the state or the ordinances of the civil authority, may, at the\ndemand of that civil authority, be deposed, if the maintaining of their\nfunctions prove incompatible with public order.\n\nA single question may not be inappropriate here: Why all this? Why must\nall Prussian citizens who wish to embrace the ecclesiastical state\nmatriculate at the university? What special advantages are either they\nor that undefined thing called the state likely to derive from this\nmatriculation? Matriculation is a very small thing at the best, and\nCatholics do not object to it even in a state university, as in London,\nwhere they do not possess one of their own. But why must ecclesiastical\nstudents be compelled to pass it? The matriculation examination as it\nobtains at the London University embraces a hodge-podge of study, a\ngreat part of which is of no absolute service to the clerical student\nin his career. All the subjects are touched upon more or less in his\ncollege course; but he naturally devotes his attention particularly to\nthose which relate more especially to his vocation. And when the state\nforces a man who is studying to be a priest to attend a university\ncourse of three years, it steps out of its province, and commits a\nuseless and tyrannical act.\n\nAs for the final examination at the end of the course, S. Paul\ncertainly could never have passed it to the satisfaction of the\npresent Prussian state\u2014a man who taught such dangerous doctrines as\nthat Christ was \u201cabove all principality, and power, and virtue, and\ndominion, and every name that is named, not only in this world, but\nalso in that which is to come.\u201d\n\nThere is no need to pursue this part of the subject further. It must\nbe plain to everybody that this provision of the bill is simply aimed\nat preventing candidates from aspiring to the priesthood at all,\nand hindering those who are perverse enough to aspire from becoming\npriests\u2014a view which is strengthened by the clause following.\n\nThe candidate for the priesthood whom the bishop wishes to ordain and\nappoint must first meet with the approval of the president of the\nprovince, and not only meet with his approval, but be installed in his\noffice by him. That is to say, the candidate must not be what the state\nwould call an ultramontane\u2014in other words, a Catholic; and ordination\nis practically transferred, if that were possible, from the bishop to\nthe state. What can the president of the province possibly know about\nthe candidate, an utter stranger to him? Or how is he to judge of his\nfitness or unfitness for the divine vocation? Is the president of the\nprovince for the future to undergo a course of theology, so as to be\n\u201cup\u201d in his duties? But it is needless to pursue this inquiry.\n\nJesus Christ, when he called his apostles, never consulted Pilate or\nHerod. He sought not men for the ministry who were learned in the\nwisdom of the schools: poor, ignorant fishermen were the foolish\nones whom he chose to confound the wise and convert a world. Humanly\nspeaking, and to human eyes, the Son of Joseph the carpenter was\nhimself an ignorant man. There is no record of his studying, as did S.\nPaul, \u201cat the feet of Gamaliel.\u201d The apostles asked no man\u2019s permission\nto preach; they consulted no powers in \u201cthe imposition of hands\u201d;\nthey carried on all the business of the church, they ordained and\nexcommunicated, without ever consulting the president of the province\nin which they happened to be. Their successors will continue to do the\nsame.\n\nIn military matters, for instance, which are purely state affairs,\nthe interference of the president of the province would be resented.\nCourts-martial try offenders\u2014the civil law may not touch them, and no\npresident is ever called in to sanction the appointments to the various\nmilitary grades. Why not? Simply because, in plain words, it is none of\nhis business.\n\nIt seems foolish to examine this theme so closely, so flagrant\nis the violation of all common sense even, not to speak of\nlegal right. Nevertheless, here is the _Pall Mall Gazette_, an\nultra-liberal organ\u2014so _ultra_, indeed, that it despises \u201ccommonplace\nliberalism\u201d\u2014giving its hearty concurrence to these measures, on\nthe ground that priests are out of date, and the fittest judges of\neducation are men of the world, statesmen, lawyers, and business men,\nwho are more clever, better educated, and brisker in every way than the\nclergy\u2014with much more to the same effect. Regarding its charge that\nthe clergy are less fitted to cope with the question of education than\nmen of the world:\n\nIn the Catholic Church, the Society of Jesus is the principal teaching\norder of modern times. But outside of it there are plenty of teaching\norders and societies\u2014the Benedictines and others\u2014possessed of\nexcellent colleges and schools. There are also the colleges belonging\nto each diocese under the control of the respective bishops. Moreover,\nall education has come to us through the hands of the clergy; and the\nCatholic writers who have come out from Rome, and Louvain, and other\npurely clerical centres, even in these enlightened days, might possibly\nstand the trying test of comparison with the writers on the _Pall Mall\nGazette_. But not to wander into so wide a field as this, the _Pall\nMall_ may be referred to its own columns for a refutation of at least a\ngreat part of this charge.\n\nWriting last year on the expulsion of the Jesuits from Germany by the\nsame power which has framed these laws for the education of the clergy,\nand which, as it confesses, are \u201calmost enough to take one\u2019s breath\naway,\u201d the same journal said: \u201cOne of the most remarkable traits of the\nSociety of Jesus has always been its literary productiveness. Wherever\nits members went, no sooner had they founded a home, a college, a\nmission, then they began to write books. The result has been a vast\nliterature, not theological alone, though chiefly that, but embracing\nalmost every branch of knowledge.\u201d\n\nAnd of their work in the particular profession which the _Pall Mall_\nitself graces at present\u2014there is no knowing what it may not come to\nbe in the future if its principles are only carried out\u2014it said: \u201cIn\nItaly, Germany, Holland, and Belgium, the most trustworthy critics are\nof opinion that there are no better-written newspapers than those under\nJesuit control.\u201d\n\nThis is only _en passant_; and, as it is often more satisfactory to\nlet those outside of the church answer themselves, here is the opinion\nof the London _Spectator_ upon this particular point, given in direct\nanswer to the _Pall Mall_:\n\n\u201cIs an age of the world in which few men know what is truth or whether\nthere be truth, one in which you would ask statesmen to determine its\nlimits? We suspect that a race of statesmen armed with such powers\nas Prussia is now giving to her officials would soon cease to show\ntheir present temperance (!) and sobriety, and grow into a caste of\ncivilian ecclesiastics of harder, drier, and lower mould than any of\nthe ecclesiastics they had to put down.... To our minds, the absolutism\nof the Vatican Council is a trifling danger compared with the growing\nabsolutism of the democratic temper which is now being pushed into\nalmost every department of human conduct.\u201d\n\nOn the larger question of the dangers of modern universities, the\nopinion of one of the keenest of living English statesmen was given\nin unmistakable language at the annual meeting of the Church Congress\nlast year at Leeds. The Marquis of Salisbury is quite as true an\nEnglishman as any writer on the _Pall Mall Gazette_, and his words\nmay be considered to possess at least equal weight with those of the\ndistinguished journal mentioned.\n\nReferring more immediately to the abolition of the \u201cTest Acts,\u201d by\nwhich the state had hitherto guaranteed to overlook and prevent the\nteaching of infidelity, he said: \u201cAll hindrance to the teaching of\ninfidelity has been taken away, and that is the great danger of\nthe future. The great danger is that there should be formed inside\nour universities\u2014especially, I fear, inside Oxford\u2014a nucleus and\nfocus of infidel teaching and influence; not infidel in any coarse\nor abusive sense, but in that sense in which Prof. Palmer used the\nwords \u2018heathen virtue.\u2019 _I fear that the danger we have to look to is\nthat some colleges in Oxford may in the future play a part similar\nto that disastrous part which the German universities have played in\nthe dechristianization of the upper and middle classes._\u201d And the\nonly advice he can give to England now is: \u201cIf the parents of England\nwho send their sons to these colleges will be alive to the heavy\nresponsibility which is now laid upon them, then perhaps we may have a\nbetter security, a better guarantee, than we have had that Oxford shall\nnot be the means of uprooting the Christian faith which they had learnt\nat home.\u201d\n\nThese words of the real, if not the nominal, leader of the conservative\nparty in the British House of Lords, who at the same time is, or was\nwhen he delivered the speech, chancellor of the university of Oxford,\nare worthy of attention, and may be commended to that fussy little\ntermagant, the _Pall Mall Gazette_. They have been doubly corroborated\nsince by another British statesman whose testimony on such a subject\nis of at least equal weight with that of the ultra-liberal journal,\ninasmuch as he is the leader of the liberal party\u2014the present Premier\nof England, in his recent great speech at Liverpool, which was\nprincipally devoted to exposing the errors of Strauss.\n\nPassing on to the other laws, why, considered merely from a financial\npoint of view, should the creation of new seminaries, great or small,\nbe prohibited? This is controlling the private purse with a vengeance.\nThe Prussian state, or Prince Bismarck and the professordom, forbid\nPrussians or anybody else to erect ecclesiastical seminaries. Of\ncourse, this means that Prussian or German youth are in future to be\neducated only in the state schools and universities. If they want to\nbecome priests, they must learn their theology as best they may; at\nleast there shall be no schools or colleges for them to study in, for\nthose already in existence are to be placed under state surveillance,\nto receive no new pupils\u2014in a word, to be closed, or converted from\nthe purpose for which they were founded by private funds into state\nschools with state professors at their head, which is just as though\nGen. Grant swooped down on all the banking-houses in the United States,\nset them under government control, and bade the bankers go about their\nbusiness. And yet Catholics who find some reason to object to this\nsummary mode of dealing with their property and what they considered\nwere their rights, are told that they are traitors to the state,\nconspirators against the empire, and that they only object in slavish\nobedience to a mandate from Rome.\n\nThis measure was well devised. Its framers said: We have banished the\nJesuits; we have banished religious societies of every description; we\nhave abolished the sacrament of marriage; we have banished religion\nfrom the schools; we now proceed to abolish ecclesiastical seminaries\naltogether: that is to say, we abolish the priesthood, we abolish\nGod as far as Germany is concerned, and men shall worship us and us\nonly\u2014the supreme power.\n\nWhat else does this law mean? It strikes out the priesthood, root and\nbranch, as effectually as did the penal laws in England; nay, more so.\nThe next clause fits in neatly. The bishop who nominates a candidate\notherwise than in accordance with the law is fined heavily. As there\nare a good number of bishops, and as they are likely to disregard the\nlaw in this respect, this will ensure a constant revenue to the state\nas long at least as they are allowed to remain in the country.\n\nEcclesiastical disciplinary power can only be exercised by\necclesiastical authorities of German nationality. This, of course, is a\nblow struck directly at the Pope in his capacity of universal head of\nthe church; indirectly at whoever may hereafter be appointed as bishops\nof the church in Germany. It simply forbids the Catholic bishops and\npriests to obey the commands of the Holy See, and, if carried out,\nwould be subversive of the whole edifice of Christ\u2019s church, which its\ndivine Founder made one, indivisible, and CATHOLIC. \u201cGo ye, therefore,\nand teach _all_ nations.\u201d Prince Bismarck aims at carrying out what\nBolanden calls \u201cthe Russian idea\u201d\u2014the erection in Germany of a state\npopedom. And again, Catholics are traitors to the state for objecting\nto it, though it is an amendment introduced into Article 15 of the\nPrussian constitution for the purpose of nullifying that truly liberal\nand wise measure, which was to the following effect:\n\nThe Evangelical and the Roman Catholic Churches, as well as all other\nreligious societies, may administer and regulate their affairs in\nperfect freedom. All religious societies may continue in the possession\nand enjoyment of their institutions, foundations, and funds destined\nfor worship, instruction, and charity.\n\nThis is the law that works in England, in this country, and wherever\nelse the name of freedom is known. It left the Catholic Church\nlittle to desire in Prussia. The justice, the wisdom and necessity\nof substituting for this law those which appear at the head of this\narticle, will be apparent.\n\nMoreover, that same article very wisely and fairly provided that the\nstate right of nominating, proposing, electing, and confirming in the\noffices of the church be suppressed, with the single exception of\necclesiastical appointments in the army and in public establishments.\n\nThat law worked to the satisfaction of all parties\u2014the state, the\nEvangelicals, and the Catholics. The state never complained of it; the\nEvangelical Church never complained of it; the Catholic Church never\ncomplained of it. Why reverse this order now? Why, after handing the\ndisciplinary power over into the hands of the church, and after having\nproved it so satisfactorily for half a century, do you now forbid the\nexercise of that power by authority which is not of German nationality?\nThe constitution of the Catholic Church is exactly the same now as\nit was when that article was drawn up. The Catholic bishops were not\nself-appointed. Who conferred ecclesiastical disciplinary power in the\nfirst instance? The church through its head, the representative of\nJesus Christ, who is not of German nationality; who, as head of the\nCatholic Church, is of no nationality; and to whom in that capacity the\nquestion of nationality does not apply: for the laws of which he is the\nkeeper refer to the spiritual part of man\u2019s nature, the moral order,\nwhich in all men is the same, and which takes as little color from\nthe accidents of place or climate as it does from the darkness or the\nwhiteness of the skin.\n\nThis law cannot be obeyed: its framers evidently were assured of this\nfact, for they provide that the ecclesiastical functionaries who,\nby exercise of their functions, transgress the laws of the state or\nthe ordinances of the civil authority, may, at the demand of that\nauthority, be deposed, if the maintaining of their functions prove\nincompatible with public order.\n\nThis means the destruction of the Catholic episcopate, or its total\nsubserviency to the state. \u201cI will strike the shepherd, and the flock\nwill be dispersed,\u201d said our Lord on a memorable occasion. That is\nprecisely what Prince Bismarck says: Take all power out of the hands of\nthe Pope; destroy the bishops if you cannot win them over to the state;\nstrive to set priest against superior, by telling him that, if he\ndisobey, the voice of his church is powerless to affect him whilst the\narm of the state supports him. Swell the ranks of the \u201cOld Catholic\u201d\nparty thus, and we shall force a schism on the church; after a short\ntime, the people will go this way and that; the true shepherds gone,\nthe flock will be dispersed, and the nation is ours to do as we please\nwith, for there is no longer the voice of religion to rise up against\nus: the people are ripe for the worship of force.\n\nObserve the steps which have led up to the present consummation from\nthe foundation of the German Empire two years ago. The Jesuits, the\nvanguard of the church, are driven out. Why? For conspiring against the\nempire. Proofs? None.\n\nAll the other orders are driven out for the same reasons, and with the\nlike proofs of guilt.\n\nThe universities are placed in the hands of infidels.\n\nThe schools are taken from the hands of religious, and placed\naltogether in the hands of the state.\n\nThe solemnization (!) of marriage is placed in the hands of the state.\n\nEcclesiastical seminaries are suppressed, and given over to the state.\n\nEcclesiastical students are for the future to be educated and appointed\nby the state.\n\nCatholics must not subscribe money to build colleges of their own; if\nthey do, those colleges will, like all the others, be appropriated by\nthe state.\n\nThe bishops, the divinely appointed successors of the apostles, are\nonly allowed to hold office at the will of the state.\n\nHe who disobeys is deposed from office by the state. The church is a\nthing of state. The human conscience is a thing of state. It has no\nrights, no thoughts, no feelings, no desires, that are not absolutely\ncontrolled by the state, \u201cfor in the kingdom of this world the state\nhas dominion and precedence.\u201d\n\nThere is the whole doctrine out, plain and undisguised. Those last\nwords are taken from the speech delivered by Prince Bismarck to\nthe House of Peers in the debate of March 10 on the question under\nconsideration. And now that they are there, what is the state?\n\n\u201cThe state is I,\u201d said Louis XIV., and he was right in his estimate;\nbut the fact of his having been right at the time when he made the\nboast did not prevent the French Revolution, rather helped it on, and\ndoes not prevent us to-day from repudiating the doctrine.\n\nWhat constitutes the state in Prince Bismarck\u2019s eyes? Is it the\nemperor, or himself, or Dr. Falk, or the German professordom? Is it\nthe representatives of the country as collected in the Lower and Upper\nPrussian Houses? On the educational question, the Upper House, in which\nlay the strength of the conservative party, gave an adverse vote to\nthe government, and the House was immediately dissolved. A number of\nmushroom peers were hastily created in an unconstitutional manner, and\nsent in as the creatures of Prince Bismarck, for the sole purpose of\npassing these bills, in order to give a show of free discussion, and\nmake the measure of Prince Bismarck appear as the will of the nation.\nBut does the following read like the speech of a man who was likely\nto favor free discussion, or rather, of one who pined for absolutism,\nand was determined to have it? It is an extract from the speech of\nthe prince on resigning the premiership of the Prussian Parliament\nto Count von Roon: \u201cThere is no fear that Prussia will lose her\nlegitimate influence in the federal government, even if the individual\nmembers of the cabinet are not on all questions at one.... Prussia\u2019s\nterritory making five-eighths of all Germany, she will always command\nthe authority naturally belonging to her. Besides, the identity of the\nGerman and Prussian politics is guaranteed by the fact that the German\nEmperor and the King of Prussia happen to be one and the same person.\n_I do not deny that the premier should be invested with more extensive\nprerogatives than are now his own._ He might, for instance, be accorded\nthe right of suspending the decisions of the cabinet until their\napproval or otherwise by the king; or he might be granted some other\nprerogative with a view to regulating the action of the administration.\n_All this, I dare say, will come to pass in course of time_, but, not\nbeing as yet conceded to him, he has to shift as best he may.... There\nis too much talking over one\u2019s colleagues involved in the premiership\nto leave a man time for anything else.\u201d\n\nThat speech was delivered some months ago. Since then, the speaker\nhas come nearer to the boast of Louis XIV. This is how the echo\nof the German chancellor, the Berlin special correspondent of the\nLondon _Times_, speaks of it, with a cringing tone that to free\nstomachs brings an absolute nausea: \u201cWith a decisive struggle against\npopery looming ahead, it would be a great mistake in this loyal and\nking-loving country to strip the ministry of the authority it derives\nfrom representing _the crown rather than the parliament_\u201d; whilst the\n_Times_ itself remarks editorially, with a mental blindness strange\nindeed, if unintentional: \u201cWe do not anticipate any retrogression\nin the development of Prussia, but it seems inevitable that there\nshould be some check in the progress of change, some slackening in the\naudacity of legislation, some disposition to rest and be thankful.\u201d\n\nTo show how far freedom of discussion prevails in the Prussian\nParliament over and above the speech quoted of Prince Bismarck, the\ndissolution of the Upper House on refusing to go the length of the\ngovernment on the education question, and the creation of new peers\nfor the purpose of overcoming that opposition, may be added the very\nsignificant announcement made by Dr. Falk on presenting the bill to the\nChamber in the first instance, before a word of discussion had taken\nplace on it, that his majesty\u2019s sanction was certain beforehand; which\nwas saying practically: You may vote as you please, but this bill must\nbe passed, and he who opposes its passage is an enemy to the throne\u2014no\nsmall threat in a military nation.\n\nSo much for freedom of discussion! Where, then, is one to find that\nmysterious body, the state, of which there is so much talk? Of course,\nthis bill has passed both houses; it has been debated and divided on,\nand the divisions have gone with the ministry. Well, in representative\ngovernments, such is the rule. Whatever the majority votes becomes law.\nAll looks fair. The bill has gone against the Catholics, and that is\nall that can be said about it.\n\nBut how has it gone against them? It is a sweeping measure; of that\nthere can be no doubt. It is the most tremendous measure framed within\nthis century, perhaps in all time, for the suppression of the faith;\nfor, to any honest mind, these laws are absolute suppression of all\nthat constitutes the Catholic Church, so far as human enactments can\neffect it. Prince Bismarck endeavored from the beginning of this\ncontest with the church to throw a false light over it. He banished\nthe Jesuits and the other orders on the plea that they were conspiring\nagainst the empire. There was no trial, or searching, or investigation.\nIt was simply his _ipse dixit_: he commanded, and they were banished.\nAt that time his contest, as he and his organs and representatives in\nthe Chamber continued to assure the world, was one with conspirators,\nand in no wise with the Catholic Church. The secularization, which has\nbeen better called the dechristianization, of the schools, and the\nabolition of the sacrament of marriage, had nothing whatever to do with\nthe Catholic faith. What mockery! Now he comes and forces this bill\nthrough the parliament, which, if carried out, as it doubtless will be\nto the letter\u2014for Prince Bismarck does nothing by halves\u2014simply and\nabsolutely stops the life of religion, not alone the Catholic, but all\nreligion with any pretension to the name, throughout Germany; and still\nhe persists in declaring that the contest is not with the church. In\nhis speech of March 10, which will be remembered in history, and in\ncalmer moments read aright by all, the prince chancellor said: \u201cThe\nquestion in which we are at present involved is placed, according to\nmy judgment, in a false light if we call it a confessional religious\nquestion. It is essentially political; it has nothing to do with the\nconflict of an evangelical dynasty against the Catholic Church, as our\nCatholic fellow-citizens are taught to believe; it has nothing to do\nwith the conflict between faith and infidelity: it has solely to do\nwith the ancient contest for dominion, which is as old as the human\nrace; with the contest for power between monarchy and priesthood\u2014the\ncontest which is much older than the appearance of the Redeemer in the\nworld.\u201d\n\nNow, if this statement of the relative position of the opposing forces\nbe correct, Prince Bismarck makes the contest all the easier for the\nCatholics. He professes to remove it altogether out of the region\nof religion into that of politics, and thus the conflict, according\nto him, is one between two purely political parties. As will be\nshown, the party opposed to the present Bismarck policy is not at all\nrestricted to the Catholics; it embraces the greater portion of the\nEvangelicals, most probably all of them, as well as those who, outside\nof Germany, would be called democrats. Basing the contest, then, on\npurely political grounds, the majority of the German Empire is driven\nby sheer force of the will of one man or of a few men, backed by the\nmost powerful army in the world, into accepting a state of things\nwhich it abhors, and against which it vehemently protests. The claims\nof either party are to be decided purely on their own merits, and the\nverdict of a fair mind cannot fail to side with that at whose head\nstand the Catholics; for they claim nothing more than that the Prussian\nconstitution, under which all up to the present have lived happily,\nbe preserved inviolate. \u201cLeave the Prussian law as it stood,\u201d demand\nthe Catholics and the Evangelicals. \u201cWe are content with it; we demand\nnothing more.\u201d How such a plain and patriotic request can be contorted\ninto conspiracy against the empire it is hard to conceive. As for\nthe allegation that the relations of Catholics to the state have been\naltered one jot by the declaration of infallibility, that is idle.\nCatholics believe now precisely what they believed from the beginning.\nPrince Bismarck, then, was fully alive to the importance of the\nquestion he was engaged in at the time. It was no insignificant measure\nthat might quietly sneak through the House almost without the House\nbeing aware of its existence. The German Empire numbers 40,000,000 of\nsouls; of these 14,000,000 are Catholics; that is to say, more than\none-third of the entire population. Call the relation existing to-day\nbetween these 14,000,000 of Catholics and the head of their church,\nthe Pope, between them and their bishops and clergy, what you please,\npolitical or religious, the result of the passing of this measure is\none and the same\u2014the total breaking up of that relation in all that\nmakes it what it is, in so far as it lies in Prince von Bismarck to\neffect that result. And so the world understands it.\n\n\u201cThere is no parallel in history,\u201d says the _Pall Mall Gazette_,\n\u201cto the experiment which the German statesmen are resolutely bent\non trying, except the memorable achievement of Englishmen under the\nguidance of Henry VIII.... Like all these measures, the new law\nconcerning the education of ecclesiastical functionaries, which is the\nmost striking of the number, will apply to all sects indifferently,\nbut, in its application to the Roman Catholic priesthood, it almost\ntakes one\u2019s breath away.\u201d\n\nThe London _Times_ of April 19, in a curious article on our Holy Father\nwhich will call for attention afterwards, sums up the situation thus:\n\n\u201cThe measures now in the German Parliament, and likely to become [which\nsince have become] law, amount to a secular organization so complete\nas not to leave the Pope a soul, a place, an hour, that he can call\nentirely his own. Germany asserts for the civil power the control\nof all education, the imposition of its own conditions on entrance\nto either civil or ecclesiastical office, the administration of all\ndiscipline, and at every point the right to confine religious teachers\nand preachers to purely doctrinal and moral topics. Henceforth there\nis to be neither priest, nor bishop, nor cardinal, nor teacher, nor\npreacher, nor proclamation, nor public act, nor penalty, nor anything\nthat man can hear, do, or say for the soul\u2019s good of man in Germany,\nwithout the proper authorization, mark, and livery of the emperor.\u201d\n\nThe _Times_ is no special advocate of Catholic interests, so that, when\nit puts the case thus, it is out of no love for them. But after such\na graphic picture of the situation, it is needless to reiterate what\nhas been maintained, that, call these measures what you please, they\nsimply involve and mean the legal suppression of the Catholic Church in\nGermany.\n\nThe bill, then, required some consideration; for it could only be\nregarded by one-third of the empire at least, and by the millions of\ntheir co-religionists outside the empire, not simply as an outrage on\ntheir conscience\u2014that would be a weak word for it\u2014but as a measure,\nwhether it passed or was defeated, to be resisted with all the power\nthat lies in man\u2019s nature. In this light alone could it be looked upon\nby the Catholics, and thus the hearts of one-third of the empire were\nat once and, if freedom of conscience be not a meaningless phrase, most\njustly alienated from the government of an empire scarce yet two years\nold.\n\nBut the opposition was not confined to Catholics alone. The Evangelical\nparty, though a few of its members and organs had opposed the\nintermeddling of the state with church affairs from the first, as a\nwhole accepted the expulsion of the Jesuits and the other arbitrary\nmeasures as a good thing, and as a deadly blow struck at Rome. But\nwhen these crowning measures appeared, it saw that, as usual, the blow\nstruck at Rome was a blow struck at all freedom, and strove to retract\nwhen too late. To quote the _Pall Mall Gazette_ again:\n\n\u201cThe difficulties of Prince Bismarck are not decreasing. The Jesuits\nhave found a fresh ally in Prussia, and the ranks of the enemies of\nthe new ecclesiastical legislation are swollen by combatants whose\nloyalty hitherto has been unswerving. Herr von Gerlach no longer stands\nalone as a Protestant opponent of the chancellor\u2019s policy. A portion\nof the Evangelical clergy and a section of the Protestant aristocracy\nof the old provinces of the kingdom have passed over into the camp\nof the enemy. In Pomerania and Silesia, a bitterness of antagonism\nhas revealed itself which was never suspected. The feelings that have\nfed this opposition have evidently been long in existence, but only\nnow have they betrayed themselves openly. The occasion on which this\nwas done was the emperor\u2019s birthday. It has been customary to have\nreligious services in the churches at such times, and they had come to\nbe expected by the population as a regular part of the celebration.\nThis year, however, many of the Evangelical clergy in different towns\nomitted the usual services, and kept their churches closed. A letter in\nthe _Spener Gazette_ remarks upon the astonishment excited in Neusalz,\nin Lower Silesia, because of the omission. Another letter from Wolgast\nsays neither in that town nor in Kammin or Schievelbein was \u2018the divine\nservice held to which we have been always accustomed.\u2019 The same thing\noccurred at Wernigerode, where the only notice of the occasion was in\nthe prayers at the usual Sunday service the day after. These facts have\nexcited much comment in Germany. The official papers openly accuse the\nProtestant clergy of the eastern provinces of becoming the allies of\nthe ultramontanes\u201d (April 12).\n\nThus does this \u201cloyal and king-loving\u201d people manifest its gratitude to\nthe monarch for the forcing of this bill upon it. How is it that the\nbill hurts them, the Evangelicals, who detest the Pope, most of them,\njust as cordially as does Prince Bismarck? Alas for human nature! There\nwas a touch of the weakness of the flesh in it after all.\n\nWhen this bill met their gaze, the eyes of the Evangelicals were at\nlast opened. They saw that its provisions were all-embracing, and that\nthere was no distinction made between Catholic and Protestant, so just\nand righteous to all is the Gospel promulgated by Prince Bismarck\u2014the\ngospel of the state! They had thought to get off scot-free; they\nlent no voice to the noble protest of the Catholic bishops at Fulda;\nbut at length their zeal is aroused, and they generously throw their\nweight into the scale, praying that the new laws may take the form of\nexceptional measures for the Catholic Church.\n\nSuch was the form which the Evangelical objection took\u2014on purely\nconscientious grounds, no doubt. While the internal budget was being\ndiscussed, some of the progressionists were so stupidly logical as to\nvote a refusal of the very respectable subsidy which this generous,\ncharitable, and conscientious body enjoys. But Dr. Falk, the liberal,\ncame to the rescue, and saved it.\n\nThe Prussian correspondent of the London _Times_ has an instructive\nlittle paragraph on this subject, which may serve to throw some further\nlight on this eleventh-hour opposition:\n\n\u201cBut the Catholic dignitaries are not the only ecclesiastics opposed\nto the bill. The new measures applying not only to the Catholic\nChurch, but to all religious communities recognized by the state, the\nOberkirchenrath, or Supreme Consistory of the Protestant Church in the\nold provinces, has also thought fit to caution the crown against the\nenactment of these sweeping innovations. The principal reason given by\nthe Oberkirchenrath against the clause in the new laws facilitating\nsecession from a religious community, is that many a Protestant might\nbe tempted to forsake his faith on the eve of the building of a new\nchurch. Rather than contribute his mite, as compelled by law, he might\nprefer being converted to something else.\u201d\n\nIf letters could blush, that last sentence ought to be of a scarlet\ncolor. However, to keep to the question at hand: whatever may have been\nthe motive, certain it is that at length the Evangelical party, as a\nparty, a body, political or religious, as you please, is aroused, and\nturns upon the government, of which it was ready to be the obedient\nservant so long as all things went smoothly. A similar instance of a\ngreat uprising of religious zeal against government innovation was\nexhibited and is witnessed still in that \u201cloyal and king-loving\u201d body,\nthe Irish Protestants, on the disestablishment of what was called the\nIrish Church. Here, then, are the Evangelicals protesting against the\ngovernment, and the Catholics protesting against the government; how\nmuch of the nation is left? The Catholics are 14,000,000; the number\nof the Evangelicals is unknown to the writer, but it probably doubles,\nperhaps trebles, that of the Catholics\u2014certainly in Prussia; at all\nevents, it may be safely said that the majority of the German Empire\nprotests against these laws. Where is the state to be found, then? The\nstate certainly does not lie in the majority of the people. On purely\npolitical grounds, therefore, Prince Bismarck\u2019s measure is tyrannical;\nnevertheless, \u201cin the kingdom of this world, the state has dominion and\nprecedence.\u201d\n\n  \u201cAve, C\u00e6sar! Morituri te salutant!\u201d\n\nPrince Bismarck expected this opposition. So powerful did he imagine\nit would be that he even feared it, and in his own speeches and organs\nmingled cajolery with threats. Whilst the ecclesiastical bills were\nstill being debated, the _Provinzial-Correspondenz_ (official), in a\nflaring article on the protest of the Catholic bishops at Fulda, and\nthe Catholic opposition to the ecclesiastical laws, wrote:\n\n\u201cThe state, of course, being responsible for the welfare of the\ninhabitants in every measure adopted, will have to be guided by a\n_strict regard for what is just and upright_. It will have carefully\nto refrain from meddling with the creed or interfering with the\necclesiastical institutions and usages immediately connected with\nthe sphere of religious belief. Only the other day, the Minister of\nEducation (Dr. Falk) expressed his conviction in the Lower House\nthat, directly the new bills became law, the Catholic subjects would\nperceive that no one intended to injure their religious faith, oppress\ntheir church, or interfere with the preaching of saving truth.\u201d (Dr.\nFalk\u2019s convictions are of a piece with his notions of \u201ctruth.\u201d) ...\n\u201cIn carrying through their present task, government is prepared to\nencounter serious resistance and much trouble; but it is also aware\nthat the bills now under discussion, if once they become law, will\nsupply it with effective means of exerting its authority.... If the\nwashes of the government and parliament are fulfilled, the bills under\ndiscussion will be a work of peace.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is, in case the bishops yield,\u201d remarks the Prussian\ncorrespondent of the London _Times_. \u201cIn the other event, they are sure\nto be successively fined, deposed, incarcerated, and perhaps sent out\nof the country. All this the new legislation empowers the government to\neffect.\u201d\n\nThe government, then, or the state, or whatever be the name by which\nPrince Bismarck chooses to be called, dreaded a powerful opposition.\nNevertheless, it determined to pass these bills\u2014which were absolutely\nuncalled for, as far as the harmony of the relations between Catholic\nand Protestant went, and that of either or both of these bodies with\nwhat ought to be the state, the true representative rulers of the\npeople, and not a man or a few men elevated on the bayonets of a\nmillion soldiers\u2014conscious that it was doing what the conscience\nof its people might of necessity endure for a time, but could never\nconsent to. How long, then, did it take to bring this stupendous\nmeasure about, fraught as it was with all these consequences, and a\ncause of alarm and anxiety even to the government itself with all its\nbayonets?\n\nThe laws are dated January 8 of this year; they were presented to the\nChamber on the following day, and, by the 21st of the same month, their\nfirst discussion is over. On April 25, they finally passed the Upper\nHouse.\n\nIn three months! A bill which altered throughout the whole relations\nbetween church and state in Germany, down to their minutest details;\nwhich involved the appropriation to state purposes of every\necclesiastical college or seminary subscribed for, and erected, and\nfounded by the money of private individuals; which, involving as it\ndoes the suppression of the bishops and the clergy, as a necessary\nconsequence hands over to the state a vast amount of funded property\nin churches and houses; which, above all this, meets religion at every\nturn, and makes it bow down and worship the state; which threatens a\nfuture of disturbance and danger of every kind\u2014is pushed through both\nHouses of Parliament, and supposed to be fully discussed and decided on\nin a period of three months!\n\nWhy, a bill for the laying of a new line of railroad twenty miles in\nlength would have required longer time and called for more discussion.\nThere it stands now, law, and all Germany must obey it, because the\nstate calls it law. On April 24, Germany could be Christian; on April\n26, to be Christian is a crime against the state; to obey the dictates\nof conscience is a crime; to establish a school in the name of God is a\ncrime; to establish a college for the education of God\u2019s ministry is a\ncrime; to obey the pastors, the priests, and bishops of God\u2019s church,\nwhom to obey hitherto was a virtue, is now a crime; to acknowledge the\nPope as the head of the universal church, a crime; in a word, to be\nanything but German, body and soul, mind and heart and thought, is a\ncrime, to be punished by all the rigor of the law!\n\nPrince Bismarck, while he is about it, should go further. \u201cTo-day we\nwill proceed to create God,\u201d said a countryman of his, a philosopher,\nan enlightened man and apostle of the stamp of Dr. Falk, the putative\nfather of these bills. The chancellor should create a German heaven\nto correspond with this German religion and reward its devotees, the\nworshippers of the divine state. What German Dante will arise to give\nus the Bismarck _Inferno_?\n\nThe steps which led up to this measure, the ingredients which compose\nit, the manner in which it was forced through, the meaning of it, and\nthe effect, if carried out, it will produce on religion, have now been\nset before the reader, and he may fairly pronounce for himself upon\nthe whole question. But the question asked at the beginning remains\nstill unanswered: _Why_ has all this come about? Why has so wise a\nstatesman as Prince Bismarck is reputed to be raked up these embers\nof dissension, and fanned them into so fierce a flame? Is it to his\nadvantage to turn one-third, the majority even, of his empire against\nhim? Why, if the contest were not, as he and his supporters of the\nliberal and religious press allege, in a manner forced upon him, should\nhe be so unwise as to run the danger of rending his empire asunder,\nand opening up that bitterest of difficulties, the religious question,\nwhich lay so quiet? In one word, was or was not the Catholic Church a\ndanger to the new empire?\n\nThis is becoming the question of the day; and what concerns Germany\nconcerns the whole world. The Catholic Church is a danger to the state.\n\nAgain, why?\n\nBecause you obey an infallible Pontiff, an absolute ruler, blindly and\nimplicitly. Matters were not quite so bad before the declaration of the\ndogma of infallibility; but since that date, the Pope has taken a new\nstand which governments cannot admit. They cannot endure to have any\nportion of their subjects ruled by a foreign potentate. They cannot\nhave their measures thwarted and decrees opposed by a mandate, open or\nsecret, from Rome. They cannot admit the pretensions of a well-meaning,\nno doubt, but rather unpractical and decidedly impracticable old\ngentleman to the sovereignty over the whole world. Those whom he claims\nas his subjects may venerate him as much as they choose; they may even\nobey him, as far as believing in a God and all that sort of thing goes,\nif it bring any unction to their souls; they may believe in any mortal\nor immortal thing they please; but they must obey the laws of the land\nin which they live, _whatever those laws may be_. Religious belief may\nbe anything you please, as long as it is confined to the individual\u2019s\nmental faith; but his conduct must not be ruled by it. Whenever\nreligion crosses the state, religion must give way. Governments cannot\nadmit the disloyal theory of \u201ca Catholic first, a nationalist if you\nwill.\u201d\n\nIt all lies there: the contest between Prince Bismarck and the church,\nbetween Italy and the church, between the whole world and the church.\nThis contest did not begin with the German chancellor. There is a\npower behind the throne that moves even him to this deed of violence\nupon the sacred person of the spouse of Christ, his holy church: the\nsame old tempter that first whispered to man in Eden: \u201cYe shall be as\ngods\u201d; that drove the kings to stone and persecute the prophets; that\nmoved the Jews to crucify Christ; that directed the arm of the pagan\nemperors of Rome. It is not in man of his own will merely to stir up\nthis strife, and wage war upon his brother for the matter of faith. The\nspirit of evil is ever working; and his present chief representative,\nunconsciously it may be hoped, is the powerful chancellor of the German\nEmpire. Here is his standpoint, as given by the Berlin correspondent\nof the New York _Herald_, in the remarkable speech of March 10. In\nthe extract already given, the chancellor pronounced the contest he\nhas entered upon as having \u201csolely to do with the ancient contest for\ndominion, which is as old as the human race; with the contest for power\nbetween monarchy and priesthood\u2014the contest which is much older than\nthe appearance of the Redeemer in the world.\u201d After endeavoring to\nconnect every great movement of recent and medi\u00e6val history inimical,\nor supposed to be inimical, to Germany with the machinations of the\nPapacy, he goes on to say: \u201cIt is, in my estimation, a falsification\nof politics and of history when His Holiness the Pope is considered\nexclusively as the high-priest of any one confession, or the Catholic\nChurch as representative of churchdom in general. The Papacy has been\nin all times a political power which, with the determination and\nwith the greatest success, interfered in all the relations of this\nworld; which meant to interfere, and considered such interference\nas its legitimate programme. This programme is well known. The aim\nconstantly kept in view by the Papal power (like the Rhine borders\nbefore the eyes of the French)\u2014the programme which, at the time of\nthe medi\u00e6val emperors, was very nearly realized\u2014is the making the\nsecular power subject to the clerical\u2014an aim eminently political, the\neffort to attain which is, however, as old as humanity; for so long\nhave there been persons, whether cunning people or real priests, who\nhave asserted that the will of God was better known to them than to\ntheir fellow-citizens; and it is well known that this principle is the\nfoundation of the Papal claim to dominion.\u201d\n\nNow, there is no denying that this is a very fascinating doctrine for\nnations. The rulers studiously misrepresent the Papacy, setting it down\nas a political power: as that most dangerous of political powers which\nwould clothe politics in the garb of religion, as Mahomet did, and give\nto their selfish schemes the name of the cause of God, so as to arouse\nan enthusiasm and fanaticism in their devotees which mere human powers\ncan never hope to enkindle. Mahomet was just one of those \u201ccunning\npeople\u201d who \u201casserted that the will of God was better known to him than\nto his fellow-citizens,\u201d if they could be designated by that title. And\nthe conquests that Mahomet achieved by that deceit are in the memory of\nall. The Pope is the Mahomet of the XIXth century, according to Prince\nBismarck.\n\nWhen Shakespeare put that famous sentence into the mouth of King John,\n\u201cNo foreign power shall tithe or toll in my dominions,\u201d he only said\nthe same thing. \u201cYou are about to disestablish the church in Ireland,\nbecause it was imposed by a foreign power,\u201d said Mr. Disraeli, during\nthe debates on the question of the disestablishment. \u201cYou will do so;\nbut what will you have in its place? A nation ruled by a foreign power;\nfor the Pope is an absolute sovereign.\u201d The words are from memory; but\nthe aim and substance are correct, and he of all men understood the\nfallacy of the argument; but he knew that it was a valuable party-cry\nto stir the blood of the patriotic Englishman. So, recently, Mr.\nGladstone told the House of Commons that the Irish University Bill was\ndefeated by Cardinal Cullen, under mandate, of course, from Rome. And\nso runs the cry through the world.\n\nIt buzzes around our ears out here even in certain quarters, though\nmuch less, happily, than it was wont to do. Terror of Rome! is the\nstring to harp on. The Catholics wish to surrender the country into the\nhands of the Pope!\n\nLaying aside the consideration of the practical impossibility of such a\nthing, suppose the Pope did reign as emperor in Germany to-day, would\nthe people be less happy than they show themselves to be under the rule\nof Prince Bismarck? Would the Pope encircle his throne with a cordon of\nsteel, or reign in the hearts of his people? How much happier are the\ninhabitants of the Papal States to-day under the rule of Victor Emanuel\nthan they were under that of Pius IX.? Let the correspondents of the\nsecular press answer with their periodical record of outrage and crime.\n\nHow is it possible to convince people that all these allegations are\nutterly and maliciously false? The Pope is infallible; and so was Peter\nwhen our Lord made him the rock upon which he should build his church.\nPeter had the same conflict with Rome that Pius has with Germany, not\nsimply because he was Peter, the head of the church on earth, and\nthe vicar of Jesus Christ, but because he was a Christian. And every\nChristian who is faithful to the law of his crucified Master is bound\nto say to the state \u201cI cannot\u201d when the state would have him deny that\nMaster, and break loose from the teachings of the church. It is not the\nPope these men are fighting: it is Christianity. As far as the German\nlaws of making the divinely instituted sacrament of matrimony a merely\ncivil contract, of preaching disobedience to the pastors of the church,\ngo, were the Pope to die to-day, and, if possible, an interregnum,\nwhich seems to be so desired by many, to ensue, that fact would not\nmake a bit of difference in the opposition of Catholics to these state\nmeasures. Wrong would be wrong still; the laws of God would remain as\nbinding as ever; and to hinge the Catholic faith _in this fashion_ on\nthe Papacy is a transparent trick. The Pope teaches what Jesus Christ\nbade him teach; and no pope has ever swerved from that line.\n\nIt is almost useless to discuss this theme, and yet it must be taken\nup, though those violent opponents of what they call ultramontanism, by\nwhich they mean Catholicity, will still continue to close their eyes to\nthe truth that the Catholic religion has no connection of any kind with\npolitics as pure politics. But where politics touches upon religion, of\ncourse religion is to be taken into account. It would far overstep this\narticle to go into all the details and intricacies of this question;\nbut the statement of the position which Catholics take upon the subject\nmay serve best to put the matter before the reader.\n\nCatholics read history differently from Prince Bismarck and the\nscientific historians who surround him. For them all practical history,\nif the term may be used, begins with Jesus Christ. All the rest, as\nfar as theories of government, of the relations of the state to the\nindividual, go, may be considered as blotted out, as a _tabula rasa_,\nand the world, in the moral order, began anew. Before the coming of\nour Lord there was no government, in the modern sense of the word,\noutside of the Jewish nation: there was force. Jesus Christ laid down\nlaws which should enter into every relation of the life of man, and\ncould not be mistaken. These laws were just as binding on the monarch\nas on the subject, on the government as on the governed; they did not\ndestroy government: they guided and helped it, and infused into it\nthe first principles of freedom. Men recognized this fact, and, as\nChristianity advanced, governments began to fashion themselves closer\nand closer upon the law of the Gospel, until at length what is known\nas Christendom grew up, grounded, as its very name implied, upon\nthe religion of Christ\u2014that is to say, upon the law of Christ. Of\ncourse, in the various governments, many things remained contrary to\nthis law, not, however, as rights, but as wrongs which only time and\nChristian influence could remove. However, governments were measured\nas to their justice and injustice, not by a standard antecedent to\nthe Christian era, nor by any standard which they might choose to set\nup for themselves, but by their assimilation to, their agreement or\ndisagreement with, the law of Jesus Christ.\n\nOf course, to those who deny the divinity of Jesus Christ, all this\nreasoning goes for nothing; but Prince Bismarck does not profess\nto do so. Where, then, was this law to be found? Had it a keeper,\na guardian, a propounder, one to whose care its divine Founder had\nentrusted it, guarded against the possibility of mistaking its\nteachings, or did he leave the dead letter to commend itself in a\nvariety of ways to a variety of minds? Were all men blessed from birth\nwith perfect intelligence and personal infallibility, there would have\nbeen no need of leaving anything more than the dead letter of the\nlaw, as in that case all would have agreed as to its meaning. But as\nmen do not as a rule lay claim to perfect intelligence and personal\ninfallibility, without going further into the question here, it seems\nobvious to common sense that, if Christ left a law to the world, he\nleft it in somebody\u2019s keeping: he left a government and a head, as\nthe representative of himself. This representative is the Pope, whom\nall Christendom recognized for so many centuries, not as king of this\nmundane world, but as the supreme head of the universal church of\nChrist.\n\nIn time, he came to have a patrimony of his own, which was freely given\nhim, and has been recently very freely taken from him. That patrimony\nhe did not rule infallibly as king. His policy as an earthly monarch\nmight even be defective, like that of any other ruler; but, in the\ndomain of faith and morals, he, when speaking _ex cathedr\u00e2_, could not\nerr, and Christendom bowed to his decisions.\n\nHere it is, then, that Catholics bind their faith in the Pope; not in\nPius IX. as ruler of Rome, but in Pius IX. as the successor of Peter,\nas the vicar of Jesus Christ, as his living representative on earth.\nWhen, therefore, Christendom departs from Christianity, from the law of\nChrist upon which it was founded, and devises measures or promulgates\ndoctrines in opposition to the law of Christ, Catholics look to the\ndecision of him with whom the Word abides to say if this be true or\nuntrue, right or wrong. He pronounces, and they believe and obey. He\nsimply says this is or this is not the law of Christ\u2014the law that\nrules the government as well as the governed. If governments enforce\nwrong with the strong arm, you must use all lawful resistance; but,\nrather than deny the truth, you must die as your Saviour died.\n\nThe tendency of governments to-day is to say: \u201cWe bow to no law, we\nrecognize nothing higher than ourselves, and the laws we make must be\nobeyed without question.\u201d This is going back to the ante-Christian\nera, and reviving the worship of force. Such is the tendency to-day:\ndisbelief in Christ; disbelief, consequently, in his doctrines, in his\nchurch, in Christianity, in the head of his church. To be Catholic,\nconsequently, is to be anti-national, in the eyes of the state, when\nin reality it is to be the truest citizen of the state. Home employed\na Christian legion, and, though in bravery and devotion to the empire\nthat legion knew no superior, many of its members were martyred because\nthey recognized a spiritual power higher than the state.\n\nAnd therein Catholicity is compelled to oppose the state: dating from\nChrist, believing in Christ, building itself upon Christ, its followers\nmembers of the church of Christ, it follows the state in all things\nsave where it transgresses the commandments of Christ; hence the _non\npossumus_.\n\nComing back, then, to the present question, Catholics believe the Pope\nto be the infallible head of the Catholic Church, not the absolute\nemperor of the kingdoms of this world. Jesus Christ, whose vicar he\nis, himself proclaimed, \u201cMy kingdom is not of this world.\u201d Nations may\nassume what form of government best suits them; all that is nothing to\nthe Pope. A Catholic is absolutely free in this country, for instance,\nto vote whatever ticket he may please, Republican or Democratic. As far\nas those names and their meaning go, Catholicity has absolutely nothing\nwhatever to do with them. But a political party erects what it calls\na platform, raises a party-cry, and, as in the present instance in\nPrussia, calls itself liberal, and its liberalism attempts to wipe out\nabsolutely the Catholic religion from the land and from the world if\nit could. Is it in human reason to expect Catholics not to allow their\nreligion to influence their votes in such a case as that, or in such\na case as the Irish university question, or in any similar case that\nmight occur here?\n\nWhat are votes given for? Surely to protect ourselves against tyranny\nof every form, and to secure our proper representation in the body\nto whose care is entrusted the government of the country. God forbid\nthat religion should not influence politics! Why should it not? Let\nit alone; leave it free to do God\u2019s work; leave it its churches, its\ncolleges, its schools, its hospitals, its asylums, its associations,\nits free worship, its beliefs, and its institutions. But if you come,\nas Prince Bismarck has done, to say to religion, I will take from you\nyour schools, which are your own private property; I will take from you\nyour sacraments, which you believe to have been instituted by Jesus\nChrist; I will strip you of your ecclesiastical colleges, and educate\nyour students myself; I will take your ordination out of the hands\nof your bishops, and ordain your priests myself; I will appoint your\nbishops as I please, and they who displease me are no longer bishops;\nI will take from you your head, the Pope, and make myself pope in his\nstead: all this will I do, but still you are at liberty to believe in\nand worship God\u2014what must the answer be?\n\nThis is a mockery! This is paganism; it is violence, not law. We cannot\nobey. There, says Bismarck, or the state, that is treason. Why cannot\nyou obey? Because the Pope, \u201cthat old conjuror of the Vatican,\u201d forbids\nyou. That is just the point: either the Pope must rule or I.\n\nBecause conscience forbids me, because human reason forbids me,\nbecause Jesus Christ forbids me, is the response of the Catholic.\nCatholics cannot consent to the doctrine that in the dominion of this\nworld the state has precedence. What is the state? An accident. The\nCzar of Russia, the Sultan of Turkey, Bismarck, the British Parliament,\nthe _Commune_, all these in turn call themselves the state. Government\nindeed is supreme, and to be obeyed, _in its own sphere_; but if\nthere be no law higher than the material laws which men construct for\nthemselves, and change as occasion demands, good-by to all stable\ngovernment. If government be merely a creation of man, it must be\nsubject to the varying temper of man; it cannot fix absolutely the\nrights of man; it can have no absolute title to his obedience. We\nutterly repudiate this doctrine, and refuse to accept anything as final\nwhich we construct for our own use. Its powers are limited as are those\nof all human institutions: once it oversteps these boundaries, it\nbecomes tyranny. State to-day means Bismarck, to-morrow the _Commune_;\nit is a case of circumstances; and, if there lie no law beyond all\nthis, no principles which are fixed and come from a Power above \u201cthis\nworld,\u201d one is as good as another. This power is religion, and the\nchurch is the embodiment of religion, and the Pope is the head of the\ncorporate body, infallible indeed when teaching the universal church,\nelse is he an accident the same as all the others.\n\nSuppose our Blessed Lord were to come down in the flesh at this moment\ninto Germany, what course would he take upon this question? Would he\nbow to C\u00e6sar in this? Neither will his vicar nor his children. With the\narmy at his back, Prince Bismarck does this wrong. It is said that he\nis driven to it for the unity of Germany. Germany was united without\nit. All the states cheerfully submitted even to Prussian preponderance,\nwithout thought of dragging in the religious question. The laws as they\nstood on that point were satisfactory. Well, Germany is united now; but\nit has become the union of galley-slaves, chained together, watched by\na hard taskmaster whose blow is death. The enemy of true German unity\nto-day is Prince Bismarck.\n\nThere is the law, and it is sure to be carried out. Well, the bishops\nwill go to prison, will pay the fines, or become exiles. They will\ncontinue to ordain priests and educate them, irrespective of that power\ncalled the state. And the real difficulty begins now. The Catholics\ncannot yield: sooner or later, the state must.\n\nOne fact has come out of it all which is worthy of notice. This XIXth\ncentury, at least this latter half of it, has been lauded and glorified\nsuperabundantly as the age of freedom, the liberal age.\n\nCatholics began to forget their history. They began to think the era of\npersecution for conscience\u2019 sake over, when they heard it proclaimed\non all sides that perfect freedom of thought was the order of the day;\nthere was to be no such distinction as Catholic or Protestant, or Jew\nor Gentile, any more; the lion was to lie down with the lamb, the world\nto become a haven of brotherly love, and the dawn of the millennium was\nseen in the heavens. The rack, the gibbet, the fagot, and the hurdle\nwere all to be banished out of sight and forgotten, or only preserved\nin museums as evidence of what horrible beings our sires could become.\nIt was all very gushing and nice; the narrow lines of prejudice were to\nbe softened down, and old-fogy, stiff-kneed notions to be voted out.\n\nSuddenly rang out the voice of Peter\u2019s successor: _Liberalism_ is\nfalse: beware of it. It is only a few years back since these words\nstartled the world in the Syllabus. A storm of hatred and malign fury\narose on all sides, endeavoring to drown the voice of the church. Who\nare you who condemn us? asked the world.\n\nThe infallible head of the church! Men proclaimed that Catholics\nthemselves did not accept it; and the Catholic Church spoke out boldly\nin these days, not to proclaim a new doctrine, but only to acknowledge\nto a doubting world what it had always accepted and believed, that\nthe head of the church upon earth is infallible. There was no more\ntalk of softening down of lines: Catholics believed this, or were\nnot Catholics. Listen to the voice of one of the bitterest and most\npersistent enemies of the Pope, speaking only the other day:\n\n\u201cIt is impossible to imagine a belief more sincere, a vision more\nintense, a life more consistent, than that of the man who has claimed\nfor more than a quarter of a century to be the lord and master of the\nwhole world. If there be neither folly nor sin in such a claim, then we\nmay admire Pius IX., _and indeed must worship and obey him also_.\u201d[149]\n\nWas the \u201cintense vision\u201d mistaken in detecting the poison which lay\nat the bottom of liberalism? Prince Bismarck has just deserted the\nconservative party to which he adhered so long\u2014all his political\nlife almost\u2014and thrown himself into the arms of the liberals. These\necclesiastical bills are the result\u2014such is liberalism. \u201cWe will\nforce your children to go to our schools and receive the education we\ngive them, which you call godless,\u201d says Huxley, scientific liberal\nlike Dr. Falk. _La Commune_ was the essence of liberalism, and it shot\nthe Archbishop of Paris and the priests out of pure sport apparently.\n\u201cA free church in a free state\u201d was the Cavour doctrine for liberal\nItaly, and the bill for the appropriation of church property and of\nthat belonging to the religious orders has followed naturally upon the\nappropriation of the Papal States and the imprisonment of the head of\nthe church. Switzerland, the liberal republic, banishes the Jesuits,\ncloses the convents, and follows Bismarck\u2019s steps in its dealings with\nthe Catholic clergy. The South American states are doing the same in\nthe name of liberalism. The whole world may be traversed, and wherever\nliberalism is strongest, there is violence done in the name of freedom.\n\nAnd here in this free republic men are found, like the writers in the\n_Nation_ and throughout the Protestant press, to approve of all this.\nAnd they are republicans\u2014Americans\u2014lovers of freedom. If Americans,\nthey are traitors to their country, repudiators of the principles\nof their sires. They forget their history. What brought the Pilgrim\nFathers hither? The refusal to take the oath of supremacy to the state.\nIs what was right in them wrong in us? Freedom was the one word written\non the virgin brow of this yet young republic. You who approve of these\nmeasures in Prussia would wipe that word out, and set in its place\nslavery.\n\nThe effect which these measures have produced on the outer world is\nsignificant. Those who hailed the first outburst on the part of Prince\nBismarck with such loud acclaim begin to hesitate and draw back. The\nsecular journals in this country and in England, as a rule, either\nwatch and pronounce upon the steps which have led up to this final\noutrage with timid caution, or, in a few instances, with downright\ndisapproval.\n\n\u201cWe deny entirely that Prince Bismarck himself ever adopted this policy\non its merits in the sense in which the _Pall Mall_ admires it. On the\ncontrary, we believe that, as a statesman, he distrusted it seriously,\n_and has even now little confidence in its success_. We believe that\nit will result in giving a new stimulus to Roman Catholicism, and that\nthe fanatical vehemence with which the German people have adopted it is\na sufficient evidence of _the rash and ill-considered character of the\npolicy itself_.\u201d[150]\n\n\u201cThis rough-and-ready method of expelling ultramontane influences \u2018by a\nfork\u2019 can hardly fail to suggest to a looker-on the probability that,\nlike similar methods of expelling nature, it may lead to a reaction.\nDownright persecution of this sort (we are speaking now simply of the\nJesuit law), unless it is very thorough indeed\u2014more thorough than is\nwell possible in this XIXth century\u2014usually defeats itself.\u201d[151]\n\nIn this country, the secular press seems generally inclined to shirk\nthe question, or devotes an occasional paragraph to it from time to\ntime, as to a disagreeable subject which will force itself upon the\nsight, but which it is better to get out of the way as speedily as\npossible. The religious press among us has gone wild over it from the\nbeginning as a death-blow to Rome. But even they begin to distrust it,\nand soften their jubilant notes to a mild _piano_, that they hope all\ngood from this measure\u2014they do not exactly see what good, but they\nlive in hope, whilst one of their number, the New York _Observer_, a\nfine hater of \u201cPopery,\u201d actually declared the other day that, in its\nopinion, \u201cC\u00e6sar was going too far.\u201d\n\nIn Germany itself, as may be gathered from some of the extracts already\ngiven, the state-god is not yet accepted as infallible and supreme\neven in this world. Prince Bismarck marches very fast; and he would\nmake Germany march with him. Sedan was won by marching: but this moral\nSedan, as he would consider it, laughs at the snail\u2019s pace of the\nother. There is such a thing as \u201criding a gift horse to death\u201d; and\nPrince Bismarck seems intent on accomplishing that foolish feat.\n\nAnd here a word may be devoted to the false allegation, which is\nnow beginning to be dropped, that the Catholics were foes to the\nconsolidation of the empire. The Jesuits were banished as conspirators\nagainst the empire; the whole Catholic Church was in a conspiracy\nagainst it; the Pope had gone further, and, with the rashness\ncharacteristic of him, \u201copenly declared war against Bismarck and his\nideas\u201d (New York _Nation_). We have looked in vain for the details of\nthis mysterious conspiracy, which have not yet seen the light, though\nit was so \u201cwell known.\u201d Not a single scrap of evidence appeared, not a\nsingle riot occurred, not a house was fired; there was no gun-powder\ndiscovered, not even the traditional slouched hat and dark-lantern; the\nsupreme majesty of the law was never violated even in the sacred person\nof a solitary policeman.\n\nAs for the other allegation, that Catholics were opposed to the unity\nof the fatherland, they had ample opportunity to speak prior to the\nwar with France. There was no necessity for the Catholic German states\nto join Prussia, and spend their wealth and the lives of their sons in\na terrible war. Why did not the Catholic clergy and bishops and the\nPope, who are nothing but a political power, use the vast political\npower which they are supposed to wield in preventing the fatal alliance\nbetween Protestant Prussia and the Catholic states? Then was the time\nto pronounce, and how did they pronounce?\n\nThere was no doubt or hesitation on the part of either clergy or\npeople. Napoleon made the fatal mistake of endeavoring to throw a\nreligious color over his campaign, to win Catholic Germany to his\nside. Catholic Germany stood by its homes and altars, and its bishops,\npriests, and Jesuits stood with it. The Prussian Catholics gloried in\ntheir country, and would yield the palm of religious freedom to no\nnation, not even to ourselves. Mgr. Ketteler had long ago pronounced\nfor the unity of the German Empire. So let that allegation drop.\n\nAfter the war, each state continued in full and free possession of the\nright to manage its own home affairs: Prussia was the centre of foreign\npolicy alone. First the Prussian system of service in the army was\nforced upon all, contrary to the wishes of the states, particularly\nBavaria. When Prince Bismarck made up his mind to force this\necclesiastical bill upon Prussia, he saw clearly that, if it remained\nlaw for Prussia only, and a dead letter for all the federal states\noutside, it could not stand: it must be German or nothing. In order to\nbring this about, he sounded the states for the transfer of the home\npolicy also to the hands of Prussia.\n\nThe proposition was vigorously opposed by all, chiefly by Bavaria.\nEverybody understood the thing dead, when suddenly the announcement\ncame one morning that all the states, with the exception of Bavaria,\nwere in favor of placing the home policy also in the hands of Prussia.\nBavaria was left to do as it pleased, and now Prussia is the centre of\nall power in Germany, so that the reins of absolute government over a\nnumber of federal states, which two years ago were free, rest now in\nthe hands of a man whose chief doctrine is the natural preponderance of\nPrussia.\n\nThe measures of the Bismarck r\u00e9gime in Germany have been from first to\nlast measures of violence, not simply as regards the Catholic Church,\nbut as regards the whole of the federal states; and their effects begin\nto show themselves already in the disrespect shown the emperor on his\nbirthday, in the various riots which have taken and are taking place.\nAnd be it marked, not one of these riots has been attributed to the\nCatholics; they are too obedient to the religion which Prince Bismarck\nwould destroy to take this form of endeavoring to right their wrongs.\nThe riots have been generally called beer riots; but they are following\nso fast one upon the other, and occurring in so many different cities,\nthat, however exciting a topic beer may be, people begin to hint at\nsomething else as cause for them.\n\n\u201cThe riots at Stuttgart, which were due, _apparently at least_, to\nthe hereditary quarrel with the Jews, were paralleled at Frankfort on\nMonday by a great beer riot, said to be due to the high price of beer,\nin which sixteen breweries were wrecked, twelve persons killed, and one\nhundred and twenty arrested. A correspondent of yesterday\u2019s _Times_,\nwho was in Frankfort and saw the riot, regards the deeper and more\nremote cause as being the thorough dissatisfaction of the people with\nthe Prussian system of government.\u201d[152]\n\nOur readers will remember the very serious riot which took place in\nBerlin at the meeting of the emprors last year right under the noses\nof their imperial majesties. A _Herald_ correspondent, writing on\nMarch 23, tells of a riot in Berlin on the birthday of the emperor; of\nanother which occurred on March 18, the anniversary of the Revolution\nof 1848 in Berlin; and the correspondents both of the London _Times_\nand of the _Herald_, describe the ferocity with which the mounted\npolice charged upon the unarmed mob, using their drawn sabres. The\n_Herald_ correspondent concludes his letter thus:\n\n\u201cA slight demonstration on the part of the social democrats took place\nat Brunswick.\n\n\u201cA feeling of dissatisfaction at an undefined something is constantly\ngaining ground in Germany. There is a yearning after the freedom\npromised with the united empire. \u2018Germany is great, but she is not\nhappy!\u2019 This seems to be the condition of the empire. The revolutions\nthat have just taken place in France and Spain, the declaration of the\nrepublic, have had a positive influence in Germany. The democratic\nelement is again lifting its head, and a great meeting of democratic\nleaders is soon to be held at Frankfort-on-the-Main, unless it be\nprohibited by the authorities. The Catholic element of the German\npopulation is also in a state of continual excitement.\u201d\n\nIt is with no feeling of pleasure that these extracts are given here\nfrom such a variety of non-Catholic quarters, showing the distrust and\ngrowing dislike with which the Prussian rule is regarded. It is only to\nshow that Catholics, in battling for their religion, are only battling\nfor freedom and the rights of man. The mailed hand, red already with\nthe life-blood of three nations, which now smites the church, will not\nhesitate to crush to powder every semblance of freedom which dares\nstand in its path. He who attacks the rights of God will laugh at the\npuny rights of man, simply as man. And you who bow down before the\nstate; you who set up this state above you, and surrender yourselves to\nit absolutely\u2014you have breathed life into the statue of Frankenstein;\nyou would rid yourselves of it if you could, but you have created\nthat which you cannot destroy, and forged for yourselves an agent of\nself-destruction.\n\nHappily, Catholics have faith in a God above it all. If it has done no\nother good, it has brought out to the eyes of the world, in a wonderful\nmanner, at once the vastness and the unity of the Catholic Church.\nTwo years ago, the cry was: Catholics will not accept infallibility.\nWhen the Jesuits were driven out from Germany, the cry was: \u201cCatholic\nGermany rejoices.\u201d When the last remnant of the Papal States was\ntorn from the Holy Father, the world cried out: \u201cNow is the Papacy\ndead.\u201d When a few disappointed and faithless men showed their heads in\nGermany, with all the power of the throne at their back, men cried out:\n\u201cThere is to be a new schism.\u201d What do they say now?\n\nPart of it has been seen already. M. John Lemoine, one of the\noftenest-quoted writers of the day, a Protestant, writes to the\nanti-Catholic _Journal des D\u00e9bats_ on the defeat of the Irish\nUniversity Bill: \u201cFrom the depths of that palace which he calls his\nprison, the now helpless old man (_le vieillard d\u00e9sarm\u00e9_), who reigns\nonly over consciences, has just shattered the most solid government of\nEurope (the Gladstone ministry), and overthrown the greatest minister\nof England. We would remark that never was the Pope more sovereign,\nmore a dictator, more omnipotent, than since he has relinquished the\ncommand of subjects for that of the faithful only.\u201d\n\nAfter concluding that the stars in their courses have fought against\nPius IX., and that his failure is Heaven\u2019s doom, the London _Times_\nsays:\n\n\u201cIndoors the whole universe is at his feet, but he cannot look out of\nhis windows without seeing a world in arms against him.... Pius IX. has\ndone all that devotees could dream, and suffered all that the world\ncould accomplish. He has achieved an absolute dominion over the human\nintelligence, and lost every inch of his temporal power.... We may\nconcede, we may be even well content, that he still holds and rules the\nmost impulsive, the most imaginative, and the most sentimental races\nof the civilized world, and that he himself is admirably adapted for\nthat empire over souls.... We envy the Pope his Irish, French, and\nPeninsular subjects as little as we envy them their infallible guide.\u201d\n\nThe _Times_ forgets the 14,000,000 German \u201csubjects,\u201d as it calls\nthem, and the other millions outside of the races it has mentioned.\nFrom all it concludes, however, that \u201cRome will be Rome to the end of\nthe chapter,\u201d and that indeed it would be a pity that it were not so,\nthough it ought to change a little with the world.\n\nHow, then, stands Rome to-day? Never more united, though never did the\nwhole world collect its forces with greater _animus_ to overwhelm it.\nThe state in Germany banishes the Jesuits, and takes infidels to its\nbosom; in Spain, it banishes the Jesuits, and finds in their place\nthe _Descamisados_; in Switzerland, it ejects Mermillod, and embraces\nLoyson; in Italy, it imprisons the Pope, and welcomes Victor Emanuel or\nGaribaldi: _Non hunc sed Barabbam!_\n\nMeanwhile, the Catholic world speaks out, and from the ends of the\nearth comes back the protest, echoed from point to point, and gathering\nvolume as it goes: We protest as men, we protest as free citizens,\nwe protest as Christians! Protestation does little, say some. True,\nbut, if it has done nothing else, it has at least silenced the false\ncry that Catholics approved of these measures. Protestation at last\ntells; and when the interests of those who are now indifferent come,\nas sooner or later they must come, to be affected by the policy to-day\nso successful in Prussia, our voices and warnings will be remembered.\nCatholics cannot at present take up the sword; they can only use,\nthen, the weapons at their disposal\u2014the voice and the pen. They\nmust use them unceasingly and unsparingly until justice is done, and\nCatholics are granted the rights of citizens, which Freemasons are\nallowed to enjoy undisturbed. The rights of the state, whether monarchy\nor republic, are sacred in their eyes, but they live for something\nmore than the state. All the armies in the world cannot coerce the\nfree soul of one man, for they cannot reach it: it is beyond their\nprovince. There always will be two laws in this world\u2014the law of God,\nand the law of man. The first is equivalent to _right_, the second is\nnot necessarily so. The difficulty between states and the Catholic\nChurch lies in the fact that the states consider _legality_ synonymous\nwith _right_, and that what is legal therefore must commend itself to\nthe Christian conscience. Were men ruled by the law which makes the\nCatholic proclaim himself \u201ca Catholic first, and a nationalist if you\nwill,\u201d[153] all difficulties would be at an end. We are Catholics\nfirst, because to be a true Catholic is the truest patriotism, and the\nperfection of citizenship; because to be Catholic is to be Christian,\nand all civilized governments draw all that is sound and good in them\nfrom Christianity, from Christ. When the state constructs no law which\nis not right, then will Lord Denbigh\u2019s famous sentence have lost its\nmeaning.\n\n\n\n\nTO THE SACRED HEART.\n\n  \u201cEgo dormio, et cor meum vigilat.\u201d[154]\u2014Cant. v. 2.\n\n  HEART of hearts, a love is thine\n    Madly tender,[155] blindly true!\n  Love in vastness so divine,\n    In excess so human too!\n  Seems it more a burning grief\u2014\n  Pining, aching for relief.\n\n  Seems thou dost not, canst not live,\n    Save to sue us for thy rest:\n  While the all that we can give\n    Is as nothing at the best.\n  Wondrous Lover! Shall I say\n  Thou hast thrown thyself away?\n\n  Drench\u2019d with anguish, steep\u2019d in woe,\n    Thou must needs, insatiate still,\n  Linger wearily below,\n    Prison\u2019d to thy creatures\u2019 will:\n  While the current of the days\n  Murmurs insult more than praise!\n\n  Here I find thee, hour by hour,\n    Waiting in thy altar-home,\n  Full of mercy, full of power\u2014\n    Mutely waiting till we come:\n  Waiting for a soul to bless,\n  Some poor sinner to caress.\n\n  Forth, then, from the fragrant hush,\n    Where I almost hear thee beat,\n  Bid a benediction gush\u2014\n    O\u2019er me, thro\u2019 me, thrilling sweet!\n  Heart of Jesus, full of me,\n  Fill mine\u2014till it break with thee!\n\n  FEAST OF THE SACRED HEART, 1873.\n\n\n\n\nBRITTANY: ITS PEOPLE AND ITS POEMS.\n\n\nFOURTH ARTICLE.\u2014CONCLUSION.\n\nLIKE the Cambrian bards, their brethren of Armorica sang the triumphs\nand misfortunes of their country, and the deeds of her defenders,\nduring the twelve centuries that they were governed by chiefs of their\nown race. The great names of Arthur,[156] of Morvan Lez-Breiz, of\nAlan Barbe Torte, and of Nomen\u00f6e, offered stirring subjects for the\ninspiration of the bards. In a former number, we gave \u201cThe March of\nArthur,\u201d of which the original, with the exception of the last two\nlines, bears every stamp of antiquity, and probably dates from the\nVIth century. The epic of \u201cLez-Breiz,\u201d of which we proceed to give a\ntranslation of the fragments still extant, is about two centuries later.\n\nMorvan, Machtiern or Viscount of L\u00e9on, son of a _Konan_, or crowned\nchief, was famous in the IXth century as one of the maintainers of\nBreton independence against the encroachments of the Franks under Louis\nle D\u00e9bonnaire, and received from his grateful countrymen the surname of\n\u201cLez\u201d or \u201cLezou Breiz\u201d\u2014the Stay, or the Hammer, of Brittany.\n\nThe story of Lez-Breiz, in a weakened and modified form, exists in\nWales in the fragmentary ballad of _Peredur_.\n\n\nMORVAN LEZ-BREIZ.\n\nPART I.\n\nTHE DEPARTURE.\n\nI.\n\n  Wandered forth the young child Lez-Breiz\n    From his mother\u2019s side,\n  Early on a summer morning,\n    Through the forest wide.\n  There the shade and sunlight glancing\n    On the armor played\n  Of a mounted knight, advancing\n    Through the greenwood glade.\n\n  Under spreading oaks and beeches\n    Rode the steel-clad knight,\n  Till his warlike splendors nearer\n    Flashed on Morvan\u2019s sight.\n  \u201c\u2018Tis the great Archangel Michael,\u201d\n    Thought the child, and then\n  Straight he crossed himself devoutly,\n    Ere he gazed again.\n\n  Down upon his knees in wonder\n    Fell the trembling boy;\n  \u201cO my lord! my lord S. Michael,\n    Work me not annoy!\u201d\n  \u201cNay, boy, no more lord S. Michael\n    Than a serf am I;\n  But a dubbed and belted knight, sooth,\n    That I\u2019ll not deny.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNever saw I belted knight, nor\n    Heard of, till this day.\u201d\n  \u201cThat am I: say, hast thou seen none\n    Like me pass this way?\u201d\n  \u201cNay, first answer me, I pray thee:\n    This, what may it be?\u201d\n  \u201c\u2018Tis my lance, wherewith I wound all\n    Whom it liketh me.\n\n  \u201cBut this weighty club far better\n    Than my lance I prize;\n  Whoso dares provoke my ange\n    With one blow he dies.\u201d\n  \u201cWhat this dish of steel, which thou, sir,\n    On thine arm dost wield?\u201d\n  \u201cDish, child! \u2018Tis nor steel nor dish:\n    It is my silver shield!\u201d\n\n  \u201cMock me not, sir knight, for silver\n    Moneys more than one\n  I have handled: this is larger\n    Than an oven-stone.\n  What may be the coat you wear, like\n    Iron strong and hard?\u201d\n  \u201c\u2018Tis my steel cuirass: from sword-strokes\n    Safely this can guard.\u201d\n\n  \u201cWere the roes thus clad in harness,\n    Hard to kill were they!\n  Tell me, were you born, lord knight, just\n    As you are to-day?\u201d\n  Thereupon the old knight, laughing,\n    Shook his sides with glee.\n  \u201cThen what wizard clad you thus, if\n    So it might not be?\u201d\n\n  \u201cHe alone the right who claimeth.\u201d\n    \u201cWho, then, has the right?\u201d\n  \u201cMe my lord the Count of Quimper\n    In my armor dight.\n  Now, boy, answer in thy turn: hath\n    One passed by this way\n  Like to me?\u201d\u2014\u201c\u2018Tis even so, as\n    Thou, my lord, dost say.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n  The child ran home in eager haste;\n    Leapt on his mother\u2019s knee.\n  \u2018Ma Mammik, ah! you do not know\u201d\n    (He said, with boyish glee):\n  \u201cYou cannot guess what I have seen,\n    What I have seen to-day!\n  My lord S. Michael in the church\n    Is not so grand, so gay.\n\n  \u201cA man so bright, so beautiful,\n    I ne\u2019er before have seen.\u201d\n  \u201cNay, son, more fair than angels are\n    No man hath ever been.\u201d\n  \u201cPardon me, mother, but you err:\n    These knights (men call them so)\n  Are fairer. I would be as they,\n    And after them will go.\u201d\n\n  Then thrice the mother, at these words,\n    Fell fainting to the ground:\n  While Morvan to the stable went,\n    Nor once his head turned round.\n  A wretched beast he found therein,\n    Then mounted, and away;\n  Bidding farewell to none, he sped,\n    He sped without delay.\n\n  After the noble knight went he,\n    Urging his steed forlorn\n  T\u2019wards Quimper, from the manor old,\n    The home where he was born.\n\n\nPART II.\n\nTHE RETURN.\n\n  Marvelled much Sir Morvan Lez-Breiz,\n    Now a knight renowned;\n  Famous, among warriors famous\n    All the country round,\u2014\n  Marvelled much Sir Morvan Lez-Breiz,\n    When, in ten years\u2019 time,\n  To his home once more returning,\n    In his manhood\u2019s prime,\n\n  Brambles he beheld, and nettles,\n    Springing wild and free\n  In the court and on the threshold,\n    Desolate to see.\n  Thickly clung the clustering ivy\n    O\u2019er the ruined wall,\n  And a poor, blind, aged woman\n    Answered to his call.\n\n  \u201cCanst thou, worthy grandame, give me\n    Lodging for the night?\u201d\n  \u201cWillingly, my lord, but \u2018twill be\n    Neither fair nor bright.\n  Ever since the child went wandering,\n    Wandering far away,\n  Young and headstrong, has the manor\n    Fallen to decay.\u201d\n\n  Scarcely had she finished speaking,\n    When a damsel fair,\n  When a damsel fair came slowly\n    Down the broken stair.\n  And she sadly gazed upon him,\n    Through her tears she gazed:\n  \u201cWherefore, maiden, art thou weeping?\u201d\n    Lez-Breiz asked, amazed.\n\n  \u201cWhy, my lord knight, I am weeping\n    Freely will I say:\n  Of your age I have a brother.\n    Long since gone away.\n  Forth he went to be a warrior,\n    Ten long years ago;\n  So, whene\u2019er a knight I see, my\n    Heart is full of woe.\n\n  \u201cTherefore ever am I weeping\n    When a knight I see,\n  For I think, my little brother,\n    Where, ah! where is he?\u201d\n  \u201cHad you, then, one only brother,\n    Gentle maiden? say:\n  And your mother? prithee tell me\n    Have you none, I pray?\u201d\n\n  \u201cHave I yet another brother\n    In the world? Ah! no;\n  But and if he be in heaven,\n    That I do not know.\n  Thither passed away my mother,\n    Who for sorrow died\n  When he left us. I have now my\n    Nurse, and none beside.\n\n  \u201cThere, beyond the door, my mother\u2019s\n    Bed you still may see:\n  And her arm-chair by the hearth-stone,\n    Where \u2018twas wont to be.\n  Her blest cross I wear\u2014the only\n    Comfort left to me.\u201d\n\n  Groaned so deeply Seigneur Lez-Breiz\n    That the maiden said,\n  \u201cYou, lord knight, have lost a mother?\n    Your heart, too, has bled?\u201d\n  \u201cLost my mother have I truly:\n    Her myself I slew!\u201d\n  \u201cIn the name of heaven, then, sir,\n    Who and what are you?\u201d\n\n  \u201cI am Morvan, son of Konan:\n    Lez-Breiz named am I,\n  Sister mine.\u201d The young girl trembled\n    As one like to die.\n  Both his arms the brother folded\n    Round his sister dear,\n  And the maiden fondly kissed him,\n    Shedding many a tear.\n\n  \u201cLong, my brother, have we lost thee,\n    Since God let thee go;\n  He again to me has led thee,\n    Having willed it so.\n  Blest my brother, blest be he,\n    Who has pity had on me!\u201d\n\n\nPART III.\n\nI.\n\n  With Lez-Breiz be the victory!\n    Lez-Breiz the Breton knight\n  Goes forth with Lorgnez to engage\n    In single-handed fight.\n  Heav\u2019n grant that in the combat fierce\n    Victorious he may be,\n  And send good news to gladden all\n    The folk of Brittany.\n\n  Said Lez-Breiz to his young esquire,\n    \u201cAwake, my page; arise:\n  Furbish my helm, my sword, my shield\n    And lance, in heedful wise.\n  To crimson them with Frankish blood\n    Forth am I fain to go;\n  By help of heaven and my two arms,\n    The Franks to leap I\u2019ll show.\u201d\n\n  \u201cOh! bid me also, my good lord,\n    Go with you, I implore.\u201d\n  \u201cAh! what would thy poor mother say,\n    Shouldst thou return no more?\n  If on the ground thy blood should flow,\n    Who then would be her stay?\u201d\n  \u201cOh! if you love me, my good lord,\n    You will not say me nay.\n\n  \u201cBut let me follow in the fight;\n    The Franks I do not fear:\n  My heart is firm; my steel is sharp\n    And true, my master dear.\n  And let who list lay blame on me,\n    Where you go, there go I;\n  And where you fight, there I will fight,\n    Whether I live or die.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n  Forth to the combat Lez-Breiz went,\n    With his young page, till he\n  Came to S. Anne of Armor, when\n    Into the church went he.\n  \u201cO bless\u00e9d lady, sweet S. Anne,\n    In youth to thee I came\n  To pay my homage, and to crave\n    The shelter of thy name.\n\n  \u201cI had not reached my twenty years,\n    Yet twenty fights had seen,\n  And every one, O lady blest,\n    Won by thine aid had been.\n  If to my own land yet again\n    It may be granted me\n  Safe to return, I give this gift,\n    Mother S. Anne, to thee:\n\n  \u201cWith cord of wax encompassed thrice\n    These very walls shall be;\n  Thrice round the churchyard and the church,\n    When I my home shall see.\n  And I will offer thee, S. Anne,\n    A goodly banner fair\n  Of velvet and white satin wrought,\n    And staff of ivory rare.\n\n  \u201cAnd likewise seven silver bells\n    Shall in the belfry swing,\n  Which merrily above thy head\n    By night and day shall ring.\n  And for thy holy-water stoup,\n    Thrice on my knees I\u2019ll go,\n  Water to fetch from where the stream\n    Doth clearest, purest flow.\u201d\n\n  \u201cGo, Lez-Breiz, fearless to the fight,\n    I will be with thee, noble knight.\u201d\n\n\nIII.\n\n  Hear ye? \u2018Tis Lez-Breiz who arrives:\n    He comes, ye need not doubt,\n  With goodly number in his rear\n    Of steel-clad warriors stout.\n  Hold! on a small white ass he rides,\n    Bridled with hempen cord;\n  And all his suite one little page\n    Who followeth his lord!\n  And yet he is a mighty man\n    As any that draw sword.\n\n  Now, when the squire of Lez-Breiz saw\n    Them onward nearer ride,\n  He closer pressed and closer to\n    The knight his master\u2019s side.\n  \u201cSee you, my lord? \u2018Tis Lorgnez comes,\n    And with him warriors ten,\n  And ten surround him as he rides,\n    Followed again by ten.\n\n  \u201cRound by the chestnut woods they come:\n    Alas, my master dear,\n  Against such fearful odds to fight\n    Will cost us much, I fear.\u201d\n  \u201cWhen once they taste my polished steel,\n    Then thou fell soon shalt see,\n  Though now they number thirty men,\n    How many left will be.\n\n  \u201cStrike against mine thy sword, my page,\n  Then march we forward, and engage.\u201d\n\n\nIV.\n\n  \u201cHa! Chevalier Lez-Breiz: good-day to thee.\u201d\n  \u201cHa! Chevalier Lorgnez: the same from me.\u201d\n\n  \u201cIs it alone thou comest to the fight?\u201d\n  \u201cNay, sooth, I am not come alone, sir knight:\n  S. Anne herself is with me, lady bright.\u201d\n\n  \u201cI from the king come forth to-day:\n  He bids me take thy life away.\u201d\n\n  \u201cThy king I scorn, as I scorn thee,\n  Thy sword, and all thine armed menie:\n  Return \u2018mid womankind to be,\n  And wear gilt garments gallantly\n  At Paris; and begone from me!\n\n  \u201cSir Lez-Breiz, say to me, I pray,\n  In what wood saw you first the day?\n  The meanest serf that eats my bread\n  Shall make your helm leap off your head.\u201d\n\n  Then Lez-Breiz swift his good sword drew:\n  \u201cThe son shall make full well to rue\n  Him who the father never knew.\u201d\n\n\nV.\n\n  In friendly wise the hermit spake,\n    As at his door he stood\u2014\n  To the young page of Lez-Breiz spake\n    The hermit of the wood:\n  \u201cThou speed\u2019st apace the forest through,\n    Thine armor dashed with blood:\n  Come to my hermitage, my child,\n    Come in for rest and food;\n  Come in and wash thy stains away.\u201d\n    Thus spake that hermit good.\n\n  \u201cNay, father, this is not the time\n    For me to eat or rest:\n  A fountain in all haste I seek\n    At my poor lord\u2019s behest.\n  So sorely is my master spent\n    With most unequal strife\n  That well it is from this affray\n    That he escapes with life.\n\n  \u201cLie thirteen knights, Sir Lorgnez first,\n    Beneath him, slain to-day;\n  And I as many overcame:\n    The rest all ran away.\u201d\n\n\nVI.\n\n  Breton at heart he had not been\n    Who had not laughed to see\n  The green grass red with Frankish blood,\n    As red as it could be;\n  While near the slain sate Lord Lez-Breiz,\n    Resting him wearily.\n\n  And he had been no Christian, sure\n    Who wept not to behold\n  The tears from Lez-Breiz\u2019 eyes that fell,\n    And dropped upon the mould,\n  All in the church of good S. Anne,\n    Where, on his bended knee,\n  Weeping he thanked the patroness\n    Of his own Brittany.\n\n  \u201cMother S. Anne, all thanks to you,\n    All thanks to you I give:\n  \u2018Twas in your might I fought the fight,\n    Still, thanks to you, I live.\u201d\n\n\nVII.\n\n  This combat fierce to keep in mind\n    Is sung this goodly song;\n  In honor of the brave Lez-Breiz\n    May Bretons sing it long!\n  Sing it in chorus everywhere,\n    And all men in the gladness share.\n\n\nPART IV.\n\nTHE MOOR OF THE KING.\n\n  Said to his lords the Frankish king,\n    The Frankish king one day:\n  \u201cTrue homage he will render who\n    For me shall Lez-Breiz slay.\n  Naught doth he but my warriors kill,\n    And aye, with all his might,\n  My power withstands, nor ceaseth he\n    Against me still to fight.\u201d\n\n  Now, when the king\u2019s Moor heard these words,\n    Before the king spake he:\n  \u201cTrue homage have I rendered oft\n    And pledge of loyalty;\n  But since another pledge you crave\n    And warranty, O sire,\n  The knight Lez-Breiz shall furnish me\n    With that which you desire.\n  And if to-morrow I should fail\n    Sir Lez-Breiz\u2019 head to bring,\n  With pleasure offer I mine own\n    Unto my lord the king.\u201d\n\n  Now, scarcely had the morrow dawned,\n    When swift the young squire ran\n  To find his master. \u201cO my lord!\u2019\n    (The trembling page began,)\n  \u201cThe giant Moor defiance flings\n    Against my lord to-day.\u201d\n  \u201cDefiance? be it so: I\u2019ll answer\n    Him as best I may.\u201d\n\n  \u201cAh! my dear lord, then know you not\n    He fights with demon charms?\u201d\n  \u201cHe doth? Then Heaven\u2019s aid be ours,\n    And blessing on our arms.\n  Haste thee, equip my good black steed,\n    Whilst I my armor don.\u201d\n  \u201cPardon, my lord, your charger black\n    You will not fight upon.\n\n  \u201cWithin the royal stables stand\n    Three steeds, and from the three\n  One must you choose: pray listen to\n    A secret thing from me.\n  I learnt it from an ancient clerk,\n    Right holy, sooth, was he,\n  A man of good and saintly ways,\n    If any such there be.\n\n  \u201cDo not thou take the charger white,\n    Nor yet take thou the bay,\n  But the black steed between them both\n    Take forth and lead away;\n  For that the king\u2019s own Moor himself\n    Hath tamed with his own hand:\n  Trust me, and mount it when you go\n    The giant to withstand.\n\n  \u201cAnd when into the royal hall\n    The Moor shall enter, he\n  Will throw his mantle on the ground:\n    Let yours suspended be:\n  If under his your garment lay,\n    Doubled his might would be.\n\n  When the black giant draws anear,\n    Then fail not with your lance\n  To make the sign of holy cross,\n    Or ever he advance.\n  And when he rushes full of rage\n    And fury on my lord,\n  Receive him on its point, the lance\n    Will break not, trust my word.\n  By aid of heaven and your two arms,\n  Naught will avail his paynim charms.\u201d\n\n  By aid of Heaven and his two arms,\n    The trusty lance brake not\n  When they against each other rode\n    In fierce encounter hot:\n  When in the hall they dashed amain\n    To onset, breast to breast,\n  Steel against steel, as lightning swift,\n    With lances firm in rest.\n\n  The Frankish king sat on his throne,\n    \u2019Mid lords of high degree,\n  To watch the fight. \u201cHold firm,\u201d he said,\n    \u201cBlack Raven of the Sea!\n  Courage! hold firm, thou Raven bold,\n    And plume this _merle_ for me.\u201d\n\n  Then, as the tempest breaks upon\n    The corsair, so the Moor,\n  With furious might and giant weight,\n    Down upon Lez-Breiz bore;\n  His lance in thousand splinters flew,\n    And, with one mighty bound,\n  Unhorsed by that dread shock, he fell\n    And rolled upon the ground.\n\n  And when they found themselves afoot,\n    Then each, with all his might,\n  Fell on the other furiously\n    In close and deadly fight.\n  The sword-strokes, falling thick as hail,\n    Rang through the palace halls,\n  With sounding blows upon the mail\n    That shook the very walls.\n\n  At every clashing of their arms\n    A thousand sparks leapt out,\n  Like red-hot iron from the forge,\n    Beaten by armorer stout.\n  At last, through one unguarded joint,\n    The Breton\u2019s sword made way\n  And pierced the giant\u2019s heart. He fell,\n    And bled his life away.\n\n  Forthwith, when Morvan Lez-Breiz saw\n    His Moorish foe lie dead,\n  His foot he placed upon his breast,\n    And straight cut off his head.\n  He hung it by the grisly beard\n    His saddle-bow unto;\n  And, for its stains of Moorish blood,\n    His sword away he threw.\n\n  Upon his good steed then he sprang,\n    He sprang without delay,\n  And, followed by his page, went forth\n    Upon his homeward way.\n  When home, he hung aloft,\n    Upon his gateway high,\n  The hideous head with grinning teeth\n    In sight of passers-by.\n\n  And now the warriors said, Behold!\n    A mighty man indeed\n  Is Lez-Breiz, stay of Brittany\n    In every time of need.\n  Whereto Lord Lez-Breiz answered straight:\n    \u201cI twenty fights have seen,\n  And twenty thousand arm\u00e8d men\n    By me have vanquished been;\n\n  \u201cYet never was I so beset,\n    So hardly pressed before,\n  Until this last encounter when\n    I slew the giant Moor.\n  S. Anne, my dearest mother, thou\n    Dost wonders work for me,\n  Wherefore, \u2018twixt Ind and L\u00e9guer, I\n    A church will build to thee.\u201d\n\n\nPART V.\n\nTHE KING.\n\n  Behold! Sir Lez-Breiz goes to meet\n    The king himself to-day.\n  Who brings five thousand horsemen brave\n    To aid him in the fray.\n  But, hark! before he rideth forth,\n    A peal of thunder dread\n  Rolls through the echoing skies, and breaks\n    Above Sir Lez-Breiz\u2019 head.\n\n  His gentle squire lent anxious heed\n    That omen ill unto:\n  \u201cIn heaven\u2019s name, my lord, I pray\n  Stay you at home. This opening day\n    Augurs not well for you.\u201d\n\n  \u201cWhat, then, my page? Abide at home?\n    Nay, that can never be.\n  The order I have given to march,\n    And, therefore, march must we.\n  And I will march while spark of life\n    Remains alight in me,\n  Until that king of forest land\n    Beneath my heel I see.\u201d\n\n  This hearing, sprang his sister dear\n    Up to his bridle-rein.\n  \u201cMy brother, go not forth, for ne\u2019er\n    Wilt thou return again.\n  Then wherefore, brother, thus to meet\n    Thy death wouldst thou be gone?\n  For wert thou slain, I should be left\n    Alone, thy only one.\n\n  \u201cThe White Horse of the Sea behold\n    I see upon the shore;\n  A monstrous serpent him around\n    Entwineth more and more.\n  Behind, his flanks are interlaced\n    By two terrific rings;\n  Around his body, neck, and legs\n    The hideous monster clings.\n\n  \u201cThe hapless creature, stifled, scorched,\n    On his hind feet uprears,\n  Turns back his head, and with his teeth\n    The serpent\u2019s throat he tears.\n  The monster gaping wide, his tongue\u2014\n    His triple tongue\u2014darts forth,\n  Fiery and pois\u2019nous, rolls his eyes\n    And hisses, mad with wrath.\n\n  \u201cBut, ah! his snakelings, venomous brood,\n    To aid him swarm around;\n  The strife is all unequal: fly\n    While thou art safe and sound.\u201d\n  \u201cNay, let the Franks by thousands come;\n    From death I do not flee.\u201d\n  E\u2019en as he spake, already far,\n    Far from his home was he.\n\n\nPART VI.\n\nTHE HERMIT.\n\nI.\n\n  In his cell at midnight sleeping,\n    Lay the hermit of Hell\u00e9an;\n  When upon his door three blows fell,\n    With a little pause between.\n\n  \u201cOpen to me, holy hermit,\n    Open unto me thy door;\n  Here a place of refuge seeking,\n    Let me lie upon thy floor.\n\n  \u201cIcy cold the wind is blowing\n    From the bitter Frankish land;\n  From the sea it blows, ice-laden:\n    Bid me not without to stand.\n\n  \u201c\u2018Tis the hour when flocks are folded,\n    Cattle herded in the stall:\n  E\u2019en wild beasts and savage creatures\n    Cease to wander, sheltered all.\u201d\n\n  \u201cWho comes thus at midnight, seeking\n    Entrance at my lonely door?\u201d\n  \u201cOne to Brittany, his country,\n    Known full well in dangers sore;\n  In her day of anguish, _Lez-Breiz,\n    Armor\u2019s Help_, the name I bore.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNay, my door I will not open;\n    A seditious one are you,\n  Who against the Lord\u2019s anointed\n    Oft have earned a rebel\u2019s due.\u201d\n\n  \u201cI seditious? Heaven is witness\n    None am I of rebel crew.\n  Whoso dares to call me traitor,\n    He the slander well shall rue.\n  Curs\u00e8d be the Frankish people,\n    Cursed their king, and traitors, too!\n\n  \u201cYes; the Franks are coward traitors!\n    Else the victory were mine.\u201d\n  \u201cMan, beware! nor friend nor foeman\n    Curse thou: \u2018tis no right of thine.\n\n  \u201cAnd the king, the Lord\u2019s anointed,\n    Least of all be curst by thee.\u201d\n  \u201cSay you so? Nay rather, soothly,\n    Satan\u2019s own anointed he:\n  Brittany by Heaven\u2019s anointed\n    Devastated ne\u2019er would be.\n\n  \u201cBut the silver of the demon\n    Goes the ancient Pol to shoe;[157]\n  Yet unshod is Pol, and ever\n    Silver is he fain to sue.\n\n  \u201cCome, then, venerable hermit,\n    Open unto me thy door.\n  But a stone whereon to rest me,\n    This I ask, and ask no more.\u201d\n\n  \u201cNay, I cannot bid thee enter,\n    Lest the Franks should work me woe.\u201d[158]\n  \u201cOpen! or the door itself I\n    Down upon thy floor will throw.\u201d\n\n  Hearing this, the ancient hermit\n    Sprang from off his lowly bed,\n  Lit in haste a torch of resin,\n    And forthwith to open sped.\n\n  Opens, but recoils with horror,\n    Back recoils with horror dread:\n  Lez-Breiz\u2019 spectre slowly enters,\n    Bearing in both hands his head.\n\n  Of his eyes the hollow sockets\n    Gleam with fierce and fiery light,\n  Wildly rolling; pale, the hermit\n    Trembles at the fearful sight.\n\n  \u201cSilence! then, old Christian, fear not,\n    Since \u2018tis highest Heaven\u2019s decree\n  That the Franks should take my head off\n    For a time: so let it be.\n\n  \u201cMe have they _de_capitated.\n    But to thee, behold, \u2018tis given\n  Forthwith to _re_capitate me:\n    Wilt thou do the will of Heaven?\u201d\n\n  \u201cIf, in sooth, high Heaven permits me\n    To recapitate my lord,\n  With good will I do so, proving\n    By my very deed my word;\n  For right well have you defended\n    Bretons by your knightly sword.\n\n  \u201cThus I place upon your shoulders\n    Once again your severed head:\n  Be, my son, _re_capitated,\n    In the Name all spirits dread.\u201d\n\n  By the power of holy water\n    Freely sprinkled him upon,\n  Back to very manhood changing\n    Lez-Breiz stood\u2014the spectre gone.\n\n  When the spectre thus had vanished,\n    Changed to veritable man:\n  \u201cWith me now you must hard penance\n    Do,\u201d the hermit sage began.\n\n  \u201cYou a leaden cloak fast soldered\n    Round your neck must henceforth wear,\n  Wear for seven years, and daily\n    Other penance must you bear.\n\n  \u201cDaily, at the hour of noontide,\n    Fasting, you must wend your way.\n  Up to yonder mountain summit:\n    There a little stream doth play.\n  From that little mountain streamlet,\n    Water you must bear away.\u201d\n\n  \u201cHoly hermit, only say\n  What your will, and I obey.\u201d\n\n  When the seven years were ended,\n    Bared his heels were to the bone,\n  Where the leaden cloak had worn them;\n    Long and grey his hair had grown.\n\n  Grey his beard flowed o\u2019er his girdle;\n    Any who his form had seen\n  Had a hoary oak-tree thought him,\n    Which for sev\u2019n years dead had been.\n  None who Lez-Breiz met had known him,\n    Altered thus in face and mien.\n\n  One there was alone who knew him\n    Through the wood a lady bright,\n  Through the greenwood swiftly passing,\n    Clad in garb of purest white,\n  Stayed her steps and wept, beholding\n    Lez-Breiz in so piteous plight.\n\n  \u201cIs it thou, my dear son Lez-Breiz?\n    Lez-Breiz, is it thou indeed?\n  Come, my child, that I may free thee\n    From thy burden sore, with speed.\n\n  \u201cLet me with my golden scissors\n    Sever this thy heavy chain.\n  I thy mother, Anue of Armor,\n    Come to end thy lengthened pain.\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n  A month and seven years had flown,\n    When Lez-Breiz\u2019 faithful squire\n  Throughout the land his master sought,\n    With love that cannot tire.\n\n  And as he rode by Hell\u00e9an\u2019s wood,\n    He to himself did sigh:\n  \u201cThough I have slain his murderer, yet\n    My dear lord lost have I.\u201d\n\n  Then to him from the forest came\n    A wild and plaintive neigh,\n  Whereat his horse, with answering cry,\n  Snuffing the wind, his head thrown high,\n    Sped, with a bound, away.\n\n  Away they sped the greenwood through,\n    Until they reached the spot\n  Where the black steed of Lez-Breiz stood,\n    But them he heeded not.\n\n  The charger stood the fountain by,\n    He neither drank nor fed;\n  But with his hoofs he tore the ground,\n    With sad and downcast head;\n  Then raised it, neighing dismally,\n    He wept, so some men said.\n\n  \u201cTell me, O venerable sire,\n    Who to the fountain come,\n  Who is it that beneath this mound\n    Sleeps in his narrow home?\u201d\n\n  \u201cLez-Breiz it is who lies at rest,\n    Here in this lonely spot.\n  Famed will he be through Brittany\n    Till Brittany is not.\n  He with a shout shall wake one early day,[159]\n  And chase the hated Frankish hosts away.\u201d\n\nOf the two warriors mentioned in the poem, the first is unknown except\nunder the opprobrious epithet of \u201cLorgnez,\u201d or \u201cthe leper.\u201d The \u201cMoor\nof the King\u201d appears to have been one of those whom Louis took captive,\nafter having conquered the city of Barcelona, and retained in his\nservice. With regard to the avenging of his master\u2019s death by the\nesquire, tradition relates that, at the moment when a Frankish warrior\nnamed Cosl struck off the Breton\u2019s head, the esquire of Morvan pierced\nhis back with a mortal wound. According to Ermold Nigel, a Frankish\nmonk who accompanied the army of Louis, the head of Morvan was carried\nto the monk Witchar, who, when he had washed away the blood and combed\nthe hair, recognized the features to be those of Lez-Breiz. He also\nrelates that the body was carried away by the Franks, and that Louis\nle D\u00e9bonnaire thought proper himself to arrange the ceremonies for\nits sepulture, doubtless with the intent to guard his tomb from the\nrebellious piety of the Bretons. The popular belief declared, as it has\ndone with regard to other heroes, and in other lands, that from his\nunknown grave he should one day awake, and restore to his country the\nindependence of which his death had deprived her. Seven years after the\ndeath of Morvan and the consequent subjugation of Brittany, Guiomarc\u2019h,\nanother viscount of Leon, of the race of Lez-Breiz, in 818 again roused\nhis country to arms, and, after a vigorous struggle, succeeded in\nthrowing off the foreign domination so hateful to his countrymen.\n\nNomen\u00f6e, one of the most astute as well as determined of the Breton\nkings, after deceiving Charles le Chauve for some time by a feigned\nsubmission, suddenly threw off the mask, drove the Franks beyond the\nOust and Vilaine, seized the cities of Nantes and Rennes\u2014which have\never since formed a part of Brittany\u2014and delivered his countrymen from\nthe tribute which they had been compelled to pay to the French king. M.\nAugustin Thierry considers the following description of the event which\noccasioned the deliverance of Brittany to be \u201ca poem of remarkable\nbeauty, full of allusions to manners of a remote epoch, ... and a\nvividly symbolical picture of the prolonged inaction and the sudden\nawakening of the patriot prince when he judged the right moment to have\ncome.\u201d\n\nThe fierce exultation of the poet when the head of the Intendant\nis swept off to complete the lacking weight, recalls the words of\nLez-Breiz not many years before: \u201cCan I but see this Frankish king, he\nshall have what he asks. I will pay tribute with my sword!\u201d\n\n  \u201cSi fortuna daret possim quo cernere regem,\n  Proque tributali h\u00e6c ferrea dona dedissem.\u201d[160]\n\n\nTHE TRIBUTE OF NOMEN\u00d6E.\n\n(DROUK-KINNIG NEUMENOIOU), A.D. 841.\n\n  Cut is the gold-herb.[161] Lo, the misty rain\n  Forthwith in steam-like clouds drives o\u2019er the plain.\n\nArgad! To war!\n\n\nI.\n\n  Spake the great chief: \u201cFrom the heights of the mountains of Arez,\n  Mildew and mist for the space of three weeks have passed o\u2019er us,\n  Mildew and mist from the land that lies over the mountains:\n\n  \u201cStill from the land of the Franks, more and more, thickly driving,\n  So that in no wise my eyes can behold him returning,\n  Karo, my son, for whose coming from thence I am watching.\u201d\n\n  \u201cTell me, good merchant, who travellest all the land over,\n  Hast thou no tidings to tell me of him, my son Karo?\u201d\n  \u201cMay be so, Father of Arez, but where and what does he?\u201d\n\n  \u201cHe, wise of head, strong of heart, with the chariots departed,\n  Drawn by three horses abreast, into Rennes with the tribute,\n  Bearing among them the toll in full weight of the Bretons.\u201d\n\n  \u201cChief, if your son bore the tribute, in vain you expect him:\n  Each hundred pounds\u2019 weight of silver was found to be lacking,\n  Lacking by three when they weighed it: whereon the Intendant\n\n  \u201cCried out, \u2018O vassal, thy head shall make up the scant measure!\u2019\n  Straight, with his sword swept his head off, and then, by the long\n      hair\n  Taking it up, he has thrown it down into the balance.\u201d\n\n  Hearing these tidings, the aged chief fell, nigh to swooning,\n  Heavily fell on the rock, with his long white hair hiding,\n  Hiding his face, groaning, \u201cKaro, my son! my son Karo!\u201d\n\n\nII.\n\n  The aged chief is journeying with all his kith and kin,\n  Till he to Nomen\u00f6e\u2019s castle strong the way doth win.\n  \u201cSay, porter at the castle gate, your lord, is he at home?\u201d\n  \u201cOr be it so, or be it not, to him may no harm come!\u201d\n\n  E\u2019en as he spake, his lord came riding through the portal strong,\n  Returning from the chase, his fierce hounds scouring swift along;\n  His bow he carried in his hand, and o\u2019er his shoulder slung\n  A wild boar of the forest, huge, all dead and bleeding, hung.\n\n  \u201cGood-day to you, brave mountaineers, and father, first to thee.\n  What tidings bring you, or what is it you would ask of me?\u201d\n  \u201cWe come to learn if Justice lives\u2014if God in heaven there be:\n  We come to learn if still there is a chief in Brittany.\u201d\n\n  \u201cSure, I believe that God in heaven ever dwells on high;\n  And, so far as I can be, chief of Brittany am I.\u201d\n  \u201cWho _will_ be, _can_; and he who can will drive the Franks away,\n  Will chase the Franks, defend the land, vengeance on vengeance pay.\n\n  \u201cMy son and me he will avenge: the living and the dead:\n  Karo, my child, from whom the Franks have stricken off his head.\n  The excommunicated Franks, who pity know nor truth,\n  Have slain him in the early flower and beauty of his youth.\n\n  \u201cHis head, so fair with golden hair, they threw to make the weight,\n  They threw it in the balance, and have left me desolate.\u201d\n  Then thick and fast the tears fell from the father\u2019s aged eyes,\n  And glittered down his long and silvery beard in piteous wise;\n  They sparkled like the morning dew upon the aspen white,\n  When earliest sunbeams wake them into gems of quiv\u2019ring light.\n\n  When Nomen\u00f6e that beheld, a fearful oath he swore:\n  \u201cBy this boar\u2019s head, and by the dart wherewith I pierced the boar,\n  I swear my country to avenge ere many hours be o\u2019er:\n  Nor will I wash away the blood from thee, my crimsoned hand,\n  Till I have washed the bleeding wounds of thee, my injured land.\u201d\n\n\nIII.\n\n  The thing which Nomen\u00f6e did no chief hath done before:\n  With sacks to fill with pebble-stones he went down to the shore:\n  Pebbles and flints for tribute to the bald-head Frankish king:\n  No chief but only Nomen\u00f6e e\u2019er hath done this thing.\n\n  He shod his horse with silver shoes, turned backwards every one,\n  And he himself to pay the tribute forth to Rennes is gone,\n  Prince that he is: no chief but he did ever this before,\n  And never chief will do the like again for evermore.\n\n  \u201cHo, warden! open wide your gates! wide open let them be,\n  That I may enter into Rennes as it beseemeth me.\n  Hither come I, Lord Nomen\u00f6e, bringing store of gold:\n  My chariots all are filled therewith as full as they can hold.\u201d\n\n  \u201cDescend, O chief! my lord, descend, and enter in, I pray;\n  Enter the castle, and command your chariots here to stay,\n  And in the hands of your esquires your white steed leave below,\n  While you ascend to supper; but you first would wash, I trow:\n  Hark! even now to horn the water[162] do the cornets blow.\u201d\n\n  \u201cAll in good time, my lord, I wash: be first the tribute weighed.\u201d\n  The first sack brought they, well tied up, the weight in full it made.\n  The second sack was eke the same, and then the third they threw\n  Into the scales. Oh! oh! there lacks the weight that here is due!\n\n  When the Intendant that beheld, quick stretched he forth his hands\n  All eagerly upon the sack, to loose the knotted bands.\n  \u201cHold! Sir Intendant, I will cut the fastening with my sword.\u201d\n  And swift it from the scabbard leapt ere he had said the word.\n\n  Upon the crouching Frank it fell, it fell with might and main,\n  Clean from his shoulders swept his head, and cut the balance chain.\n  Then rolled the head the scales into, and weighed the balance down.\n  \u201cStop the assassin\u2014stop!\u201d they cried all wildly through the town.\n\n  He flies! he flies! The torches bring; haste! follow him with speed!\n  \u201cHa! bring your links to light my way\u2014the night is dark indeed.\n  The night is dark, the road is ice: \u2018twill spoil your gilded shoes\n  Of leather blue so fair bedecked, and ye your toil shall lose;\n  For ne\u2019er again your scales of gold shall you, for evermore,\n  Use to weigh flints from Brittany and pebbles from her shore.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nKOCHE, KING OF PITT.\n\n\nKOCHE, the subject of this memoir, was born on the remote island of\nChatham, in the Southern Pacific Ocean. Forced by a cruel servitude to\nfly from his native island, he passed many years in absolute solitude\non the little uninhabited island of Pitt, lying some miles distant\nfrom Chatham. Here he reigned undisputed master of the land and all it\ncontained: whence the title of \u201cKing of Pitt\u201d among those who knew him.\nHis account of his native island and its inhabitants, together with his\nown adventures, show him to have been a man of an undaunted spirit,\nwhich no adverse fortune could bend, much less break; and had he been\nknown to Carlyle, would have been placed by him among his heroes for\nworship and imitation; but, unluckily, Carlyle never heard of him.\n\nIt is well, in order to understand the life and adventures of Koche,\n\u201cKing of Pitt,\u201d to relate the history of the country and people from\nwhich he sprang, before going into the details of his career.\n\nWare-kauri, one of the South Sea islands, called by the English,\nChatham, lies several hundred miles to the eastward of New Zealand. Its\nhistory up to the year 1791 rests upon tradition, as prior to that date\nits inhabitants had not acquired, among their many accomplishments, the\nart of letters. Koche himself, from whose mouth this narrative has been\ntaken, says that his people were from the earliest period inclined to\npeaceful pursuits, and subsisted chiefly upon fish and seal; that they\nenjoyed a democracy, and conducted their simple affairs by a council of\nnotable men. He did not hesitate, however, to acknowledge that when at\nlong intervals, covering a generation, a high and prolonged west wind\ndrove a canoe-load of New Zealanders upon their shores, they forthwith\nand without ceremony slew them. But he justified this departure from\ntheir ordinary habits on the ground of public policy; as, had they\nreceived them in charity, and pursued the peaceful tenor of their way,\ntheir involuntary visitors would have ended by slaying and, moreover,\ndevouring them; the first party of this sort who landed on the island\nhaving made it distinctly understood that men and women were their\nfavorite articles of diet. But among themselves, the taking of life,\nhe said, was unknown; and why should it not be, since they were not\nfond of men, as some people were, and never suffered for want of food;\nand on the sea-shore they found plenty of seal and birds, and, in the\nmarshes and lakes of the interior, fish and fowl in abundance? No! the\nrace of the Tu\u00efti, his forefathers, were no man-eaters; they had become\n\u201cmissionaries,\u201d or Christian, in the days of his father, and remained\nso ever since, such of them as had not been devoured or driven to death\nby the hated Zealander\u2014at whose name his black eye flashed fire\u2014who\nhad made a slave-pen and shambles of his once happy island.\n\nTheir tradition goes back to a first pair, man and woman, who appeared\non the Isle of Rangi-haute, a score of miles to the southeast, called\nby the English, Pitt. It is a solitary volcanic mountain, lifting its\ntruncated summit above the waters of the South Sea, whose waves have\nbeaten in vain for untold centuries upon its rock-bound base. How the\nfirst pair came is unknown; whether brought by the Spirit from above,\nor created on the mountain, none could tell; the time was remote, and\ntradition was confused in going back to the origin of the human race,\nto the beginning of the world; the memory of man did not run beyond the\napparition on Rangi-haute.\n\nBut the history of the couple and of their children is handed down in\nthe following legend: They lived upon the top of the mountain, from\nwhence they caught and worshipped the first ray of the morning sun,\nand bowed in adoration to that luminary as he sank beneath the western\nwave. The ground was held sacred; and their descendants in after-days\nconsecrated like spots, devoted alone to prayer and propitiation,\non which no article of dress even could be placed, and from the\ndesecration of one of which arose the destruction of the race.\n\nTrees clothed the slopes of the mountain, and everywhere among them,\nplanted by the beneficent hand of the Creator, rose the karaka\n(bread-fruit) laden with golden fruit\u2014the sole food of man, and\nsource of perpetual youth and health. In after-days, it turned acrid,\nand fatal to life, until the pitying Creator taught his children, by\nimmersion in boiling water and a running stream, to restore it in a\nmeasure to its pristine state.\n\nOne day, a youth wandered down to the sea-shore among the birds that\nlined the rocks, and, seating himself near where an eagle was perched\npluming his wing, they fell into conversation. The eagle complained\nthat they could no longer soar into the high air, by reason of a\nspell cast over his tribe he believed by the Tu\u00efti; his progenitors,\nhe said, had sailed over the mountain at will, and preyed upon the\nliving mako-mako, or honey-eater and the tu\u00efs, or mocking-bird; while\nhe could fly only in the heavy air along the beach, and was compelled\nto consort with sea-fowl, who held him in contempt; and to feed on\ngarbage. The youth answered that the blood of the honey-eater and\nthe mocking-bird had cried to the Creator, and brought down upon the\neagle his banishment. The Tu\u00efti warred neither with the Maker nor his\nchildren; they fed on fruit, and shed no blood: the eagle had banished\nhimself. The king of birds, avoiding the issue, replied that in the\ngreat island to the northwest, which his friend had doubtless seen from\nthe mountain, the woods were filled with beautiful birds, and fruit of\nevery color, hanging over the dark, transparent waters of many lakes,\nwhile here\u2014what a poor place! One solitary mountain, no lakes, and no\nfruit, save the karaka, which, sweet as it was, was bitter compared\nwith the fruit which grew in the west. There was no man upon it to rule\nthe great island. It called aloud for a master\u2014a son of Tu\u00efti\u2014to go\nover. The youth listened to the tempter, and ambition elated his soul;\nhe arose from the rock, and asked to be shown the path that led over\nthe water. The eagle, looking at him askance, promised him wings to\nfly over, provided he would first render an easy service by taking him\nto the top of the mountain. On hearing this, the youth cast himself\nupon his face on the sand, trembling; where he lay for hours torn by\nthe conflict between the good spirit of obedience, and the evil one of\nambition, as they warred within him for the mastery. As the sun sank,\nhis guardian angel fled discomfited, and he rose to his feet with a\nshudder, and, taking the eagle on his wrist, ascended the mountain, and\nin the dark cast him loose in the forbidden field. All night long the\nflutter and death-cry of birds smote upon his ear, and, when morning\ndawned, the song of the mako was mute, and the tu\u00efs had ceased to mock.\n\nThe people assembled in alarm. A child to whom its mother had given\nfruit fell dead; they gathered about its body in terror. The eagle\nhovered over them, and uttered his war-cry. The conscience-striken\nyouth confessed. The day was passed in penitence and sorrow about the\nbody of the child in the lap of its wailing mother. Hunger assailed\nthem; they burned the remains on a funeral-pyre built of the fragrant\nkalamu, and, descending the mountain, fed upon the root of the fern,\nand drank from the living spring.\n\nThe youth wandered by the shore, alone, stung with remorse, and,\nmeeting the eagle, was taught by him to construct the korari, the model\nof all canoes, made in the likeness of a sledge, with a wicker-work of\ntough creepers, having a false bottom filled with buoyant kelp. He put\nto sea with his family, and landed on Ware-kauri, which he found, as\nthe eagle had said, uninhabited by man, a continent in size compared to\nRangi-haute; with undulating, fertile plains to the south, and lofty\nmountains in the north, sparkling with lakes of dark transparent water,\nand vocal with the song and bright with the plumage of birds. Filled\nwith new joy, he sent back tidings to his kinsmen, and was followed by\nsuccessive emigrations, until Rangi-haute was deserted save by a timid\nfew who feared the sea. Thus came about the settlement of Ware-kauri:\nand to this extent is the tradition of the people.\n\nFrom this time on they had lived in single families, or in companies of\ntwo or three, moving from place to place as food became less plentiful,\nor as fancy or a love of change dictated; being careful, in pitching\ntheir new and fragile habitations, not to crowd upon established\ngroups. In the sealing season, the families of the interior came down\nto the coast, and laid in from the rocks and reefs a supply of meat and\nskins; and when fishing on the shore became dull, or the birds wild\nwith much hunting, the people of the sea bundled up their effects, and\nmoved to the interior lakes, chiefly to the great Tewanga, filled with\nfish, and covered with wild fowl.\n\nThey dressed in cloaks of sealskin. Their only weapon of offence or\ndefence was a club, seldom used except in killing a seal. Tattooing\nwas unknown. No ornaments were in use. The teeth of deceased relatives\nwere burned with their bodies, not worn about the neck and wrist, as in\nNew Zealand, where they commit the absurdity of placing the departed\nin a sitting posture in wooden boxes, after abstracting their teeth to\ndeck the survivors, in the name of religion. The Tu\u00efti burned their\ndead to avoid the fearful idea of prolonged decay. Man springs from\nthe earth as the flower springs: they return him to his mother, as the\nfall fires, sweeping over the plain, return the flower; she drinks in\nwith the rain the ashes of her children, man and flower, and sends them\nforth again after a season of repose to reign over and to beautify the\nland. The songs of the women were plaintive and sweet, rivalling those\nof the honey-eater, the mako-mako, who sang of love, and of the tu\u00efs,\nor mocking-bird, that mimicked from every tree and bush, and filled the\nisland with its false but beautiful notes.\n\nThus had lived the race in peace and plenty for centuries beyond their\nsimple means of computation, and thus were living, fearing no evil\nfrom without, save the landing of a stray storm-driven canoe from\nZealand, when, towards the end of the last century, the sloop-of-war\n_Discovery_ and its armed tender _Chatham_, commanded by Vancouver,\nmade a voyage of discovery around the world, by command of his majesty.\nThe _Chatham_, Captain William Henry Broughton, separated in a storm\nfrom her consort, discovered the island on Nov. 29, 1791, and took\npossession of it with the customary ceremonies, in the name of his\nmajesty, as first discoverer.\n\nBroughton, as he approached the coast, saw a continued white sandbeach\ninterspersed with cliffs of reddish clay, and mixed with black rocks.\nThe country appeared very pleasant, with clearings here and there,\nand smoke arising above the trees. With his glass he perceived some\npeople hauling up a canoe, and proceeded to the shore in a cutter. The\nnatives, seated on the beach, invited the party to land, and approached\nand saluted them by meeting noses; and with great noise entered into\nan animated but unintelligible conversation by signs, gestures, and\nspeech. They were a cheerful race, the conversation of the English\nfrequently exciting them to bursts of laughter. The young wore feathers\nin their hair, and a few among them a necklace of mother-of-pearl. All\nwere cleanly and neatly dressed. The woods, which grew in a luxuriant\nmanner, afforded delightful shade, free of low limbs and underbrush,\nand in many places were formed into arbors by bending and interlacing\nthe branches when young. The soil was rich, and the forests and beach\nalive with birds of various species, which appeared as though never\nmolested.\n\nThe surprise of the islanders, their exclamations, and admiration on\nbeholding the strangers, could hardly be imagined. They pointed to the\nsun and then to Broughton, and inquired if he came from thence. In\nanswer he gave them a dead bird, pointed out the cause of its death,\nfired his gun, and advanced upon them. All fled to the wood excepting\none man, who stood his ground and offered battle. War was proclaimed.\nThe hero was reinforced, and the sailors fell back to the beach,\nfollowed by fourteen men, armed with spears or driftwood picked up\nas they advanced. \u201cWhen abreast of the boat,\u201d says Broughton, \u201cthey\nbecame clamorous, talked loud to each other, and surrounded us. A young\nman strutted towards me in a menacing attitude, distorted his person,\nturned up his eyes, and made hideous faces and fierce gestures. As the\nboat came in, they began the attack. We fired. Johnson\u2019s musket was\nknocked from his hand by a club. Our men were forced into the water,\nwhen the boat\u2019s crew opened upon them and they fled, save one who\nfell on the beach with a ball through his breast. As we pushed off, a\nman came out of the woods, sat down by the deceased, and in a dismal\nhowl uttered his lamentation.\u201d He explains that in making the boast\nwhich brought on hostilities he merely wished to show the natives the\nsuperior effect of his firearms. This may be so, or it may be that\nin the laborious process of confirming his majesty\u2019s title to the\nisland, and in order to make assurance doubly sure, he had emptied more\nbottles to his majesty\u2019s health than was good for him, and had fired to\nastonish the natives. Be this as it may, it was deeply to be regretted\nthat the answer to a question indicating such deep respect should\nhave been a warlike demonstration. But the Saxon knows but one way to\ncolonize, and that leads the aborigines \u201cinto the blind cave of eternal\nnight.\u201d\n\nThe father of Koche told him that as the ship was leaving the shore the\natmosphere became dark, sultry, and gloomy, and thunder and lightning\ndescended the mountain and pursued the retreating strangers into the\nsea. Meantime, the dead man lay on the white beach with a bullet\nthrough his heart. Civilization had paid the Tu\u00efti its first visit.\n\nA council was held, and the fact that the slain was not carried off was\nconsidered proof that \u201cthe children of the sun\u201d were not cannibals, and\nby some doubts were expressed as to their intent in landing. It was\nconcluded, in the event of their return, to meet them with an emblem\nof peace. Accordingly, when in after years a sealer entered the bay of\nWaitangi and its boat touched the sands, the natives laid down their\nspears and clubs, a man advanced and placed one end of a grass plant\nin the hands of the captain, and, holding on to the other, made him a\nspeech of welcome, threw over him his own cloak, and thus established\na firm and lasting peace; and from thenceforward the fishermen who\nfrequented the coast found them hospitable, cheerful friends, and\nwilling assistants in their labor, and \u201clove between them flourished\nlike the palm.\u201d\n\nOn the quarter-deck of an American vessel traversing the Pacific\nOcean, and chiefly at night, Koche related the sorrows of his race,\nthe private and public wrongs that had reduced the Tu\u00efti to a handful\nof slaves. Of his own mistreatment he made little account, relating\nhis personal oppression in a spirit of fun and bravado, relieved\noccasionally by a flash of hate. In calm weather his broken narrative\nran tersely, and was marked by humor and a lack of strong feeling; but\nwhen the storm-spirit arose, and washed the lower deck and enveloped\nthe upper in spray, his voice grew hoarse, his eye flashed, and his\nwhite teeth from time to time came together with a clash that made the\nblood tingle.\n\nHe said that one summer, about eighteen years before, a vessel in\nsearch of seal anchored in the small oval bay of Pohaute, overlooked\nby the Maunga Wakai Pai, a volcanic pyramid, the loftiest on the\nisland, at the base of which he lived. With his family and friends,\nhe went down to greet the new-comers, when, to the surprise of every\none, there landed among the white men a New Zealand chief armed to the\nteeth. His hair, carefully combed and oiled, was tied up on the crown\nof his head, and surrounded by a fillet of white feathers, and from\nhis ears protruded bunches of soft down. Evidently a man of power,\naccustomed to command, he inspired a mysterious dread, and would have\nbeen slain but for the protection he was under. The future darkened\nas he walked the beach, questioning the people on their politics and\nreligion, manners and customs; and it was long remembered that he\nhighly commended the veneration they entertained for sacred places, and\nwalked off musing when in answer to his inquiry one was pointed out. It\nwas Mate-oro, chief of the Nga-te Motunga, who had lately been defeated\nin battle by the Wa\u00ef Kato, and driven with his tribe from the valley\nof the Komimi to the coast of New Zealand, from whence he had embarked\nfor Ware-kauri, and appeared among the simple inhabitants as Satan in\nParadise\u2014the forerunner of troops of fiends.\n\nA red bluff beetled over the bay\u2014a conglomerate of particles of\ncolored clay, cemented by a carbonate of lime, embedded with dark\nshining nodules of iron, and traversed by dikes of basaltic lava.\nIts summit was sacred. One morning before sunrise, a native ascended\nto offer his devotions, and was horror-struck on beholding in the\nholy field an iron pot. He sped down to communicate the startling\nintelligence, and returned with a party of thirteen to verify the\nreported sacrilege. Koche, who was of the number, threw off his cloak,\ntore up a fragment of rock, and dashed the profane utensil to pieces.\nA party of sailors, with a couple of bull-dogs, guided by Mate-oro,\npursued and overtook them. He shot dead one who turned and attempted\nan explanation; the remaining twelve were bound and hung by the feet\nfrom a tree, head downward, until nearly dead. The chief returned to\nNew Zealand, assembled his people, represented the island as fertile\nand full of unarmed slaves, and recommended its subjugation. The brig\n_Lord Rodney_, taking her pay in pigs, potatoes, and flax (and flame,\nlater on!), in two trips landed the tribe, numbering eight hundred,\non the fated isle. The natives offered no resistance to their fierce\ninvaders armed with firelocks, and were duly parcelled out among their\nconquerors, and condemned to hard labor for life. No idea of moderation\nin the amount exacted was entertained. In a short time, they furnished\nthirty vessels annually with supplies. But the race began rapidly to\nrun out, with bent backs and paralytic limbs. Skulls on the beach,\npierced by musket balls or battered by clubs, told a tale to visitors\ntheir tyrants could not deny. Valuable as was their labor, in drunken\norgies they were slain for food.\n\nOnce cheerful, full of mirth and laughter, they became morose and\ntaciturn. Koche, with many others, persistently refused to work; some\ndied under, others yielded to, the lash; and he, who had been dragged\nby a rope to the field, and beaten in vain, and would neither yield\nnor give up the ghost, was taken by the chief to his house to break\nin. He continued moody, and maintained his independence so far as to\nexecute only such commissions as pleased him, frequently courting death\nby mutely and stubbornly refusing to obey orders. Mate-oro seemed\nto respect his attitude to some extent, and employed him to supply\nhis table with sea-fish, giving him a canoe furnished with nets and\nlines for the purpose. The struggle between them now ceased, for this\noccupation gave Koche solitude and freedom when afloat, and opportunity\nto muse over the condition of himself and people. He soon came to\nthe conclusion that it was useless to attempt an insurrection, the\npopulation being unarmed, dispirited, and under an iron subjugation.\nBut for his single self, he was resolved on resistance to the last,\nand, as his boat tossed on the wave, he brooded over many schemes for\nthe destruction of his would-be master. A personal conflict was most\nin accordance with his disposition, and many a time he was tempted,\nunarmed as he was, to close in a death-struggle, out of which,\ndoubtless, he would have come victorious, if uninterrupted; for though\nbut little above the middle height, he was broad and deep-chested,\nwith sinews of iron, and capable of immense exertion; and, above all,\nwas animated by a spirit that would have revelled in the fight. But\nfollowed as the chief was, fair play was not to be looked for, and he\nreluctantly abandoned his favored purpose. His thoughts often wandered\nto the cradle of his race, now uninhabited, to which he had made a\nvisit with his father in youth, where he felt assured he would find\na harbor of refuge, if Mate-oro could be first despatched. Whilst\nin the midst of such reflections one afternoon, he drew up from the\nocean a fish seldom taken\u2014the mo-eeka, pleasant to the taste, but\na virulent poison, a small portion of which when eaten producing a\ndeathly sickness, and a full meal, death. His massive face beamed with\nsatisfaction, and his dark eye glistened as he unhooked and dropped\nit into the boat, contrary to the custom, which was to kill and throw\nit back into the sea. On landing, he placed his dangerous prize in a\nsmall salt-water pool near the beach, into which, as he caught them,\nhe placed others, until a large mess was collected. This he brought\nhome one night when the wind blew from the northwest, and persuaded\nthe cook to serve up for the morning meal. Directing her to throw the\noffal to the wood-hogs, he disappeared, and soon after midnight reached\nthe east coast, seized a canoe, and put to sea. The cook, who had her\nmore immediate grudge to gratify, regaled the favorite dogs with the\nheads and entrails; and this deviation from orders frustrated the\namiable purpose of her co-conspirator. The howls of his four-footed\ncompanions in the night, followed by their death in the morning, told\nthe suspicious Indian a tale of poison, which a visit to the kitchen\nconfirmed. A portion of the breakfast thrown to a stray dog promptly\nfinished him.\n\nKoche was sought for high and low, the island ransacked in vain; no\ntrace of him was found, and the conclusion was arrived at that he\nhad thrown himself into the sea. The chief had taken up a hatchet to\nkill his cook, but she sullenly asserted she had never seen a mo-eeka\nbefore, and was believed and spared, partly because the fish was rare\nand seldom brought to land when taken, and partly because her good\ncooking tickled his palate.\n\nPrior to this attempt to treat him to the mo-eeka, Mate-oro had swept\nthe Isle of Rangi-haute of its inhabitants. The number of captives had\nproved much smaller than had been anticipated, amounting in all to ten\nfamilies, and barely repaid the trouble and risk of the voyage.\n\nWhen Koche, on the day following the episode of the poison-fish\u2014the\nlast, as he flattered himself, of Mate-oro\u2014ascended the mountain of\nPitt, and stood upon a throne\u2014\n\n  \u201cHe was monarch of all he surveyed,\n    His rights there were none to dispute:\n  From the centre all round to the sea,\n    He was lord of the fowl and the brute.\u201d\n\nHis first care was to make a royal progress over his dominion, in which\nhe fully expected to reign to the termination of his life. He felt\nno fear of invasion, having traversed Ware-kauri, and effected his\nembarkation unseen. No motive existed sufficiently strong to induce\none, in the face of the difficulties of a return trip against the wind,\nunless it might be revenge on the part of Mate-oro, who was dead, and\nhad ceased to trouble him. Of domestic foes he had none. The Norway\nrat, a deserter from a seal-ship, was the only quadruped on the island;\nand the seal and sea-lion, the only amphibious animals that had ever\nfrequented the coast, had long since been extirpated, and the sealers\ncame there no more. All looked favorable for a quiet reign.\n\nNear an old seal camp, he found growing some wild wheat, which he\ncultivated after a manner, and which, with wild celery, water-cresses,\nfern-root, and karaka, left him nothing to desire in the way of\nvegetable food. On the shore, he found crabs and lobsters, and the\nechini (sea-eggs) in the hollows of the rock; and at times, to\nsupplement his feast, the sea threw up her orange-colored pear. The\nblue petrel had their habitations in the woods, in the ground under\nthe roots of trees, and in crevices of rocks, and were speared at\nnight as they flew about in numbers with a noise like the croaking\nof frogs. They passed the day at sea-fishing, and not one was to be\nseen until dark put a stop to their pursuit, when they returned to\nland, and fluttered and croaked for hours before retiring to rest. But\nthe subject that gave its sovereign least trouble was the dark-brown\nwater-hen, of the size of a barnyard fowl, which inhabited the skirts\nof the woods, and fed on the beach. It was unable to fly, and made no\nattempt to escape when approached, but stood its ground, and bowed,\nlike a pious Turk, to its fate.\n\nAt the base of the mountain, near a strong spring, he formed a\nsummer-house\u2014an arbor of the trees and shrubs of aromatic myrtle\u2014and,\nbesides supplying his wants, did little else but wander over the isle\nduring the summer season; but, when winter came, he retired to a cave\nin the mountain, from which he expelled the bats, and devoted his\nleisure to making the utensils of the chase, toilet, and kitchen. He\nmanufactured baskets, nets, and lines of twisted fibre, fish-hooks of\nmother-of-pearl, knives of sharp quartz, razors of shell, and mats for\nbedding and cloaks.\n\nHe covered his fish alive in red-hot ashes, and, when cooked, peeled\noff the skin, and ate the flesh from the ribs. He cooked his meat in an\noven, of which he had one at each residence, and several at points on\nthe shore. It consisted of a hole in the ground lined with stone, in\nwhich he built a fire, and placed pebbles and stones. His game, after\nthe ordinary cleaning, was scrubbed with sand on the outside, and well\nwashed inside and out. Hot pebbles were placed in the belly and shaken\nin under the breast, and green aromatic leaves stuffed in upon them.\nThe oven was then cleared of fire and pebbles, and lined with green\nleaves, and the game placed in the bottom. The fat was washed, and\nplaced with hot pebbles in a vessel of bark, and beside it the blood,\ntied in a leaf, and propped with hot stones. Then came a layer of such\nvegetables as were in season or at hand, and the whole was spread over\nwith leaves, on which the remaining hot stones were placed, covered in\nturn with leaves, and filled in with sod and earth. After an interval\naccording to the size of the mess, it was taken out, spread upon a\ncloth of the glossy leaves of the karaka, and eaten hot.\n\nNo king fared better, and no one that ever reigned passed his days in\nequal quietude and peace. No opposing politicians were there to vex his\nsoul with diverse counsels, and make the worse appear to him the better\nreason; no blood of fellow-men weighed down his spirit; no friends\nclamored for reward, or silent enemies shrank from punishment.\n\nHe knew neither hunger, thirst, nor cold, nor fear, nor jealousy,\nand approached as near as it lay in fallen man to the estate of our\nrenowned ancestor in the garden before the presentation of Eve. He was\ncontent, wanting no Eve, or Cain, or Abel. And for ten solitary years\nhis wish was gratified: he was unapproached, and reigned unchallenged.\n\nIn 1839, the captain of a vessel from Sidney offered to buy of Mate-oro\na portion of the island of Ware-kauri that lay about the bay of\nWaitangi, then owned and possessed by a branch of the tribe commanded\nby Nga-te-Toma. The terms were agreed upon, payment to be made on\ndelivery. But the Nga-te-Toma could not be prevailed upon to deliver\ntheir possessions of black loam on demand, the more especially as\nMate-oro was to handle the purchase-money. War was declared, and the\ncontumacious Te-Toma were driven in the following spring into their\nstronghold near the beach, and regularly invested.\n\nAt this juncture, the bark _Cuba_, having on board one Dieffenbach,\na naturalist, dropped anchor in the bay, entered into negotiations\nwith both parties, and, moved by the spirit of Christian charity,\nended by taking off the Te-Toma at night in boats to their ship\u2014first\nthe women and children, followed by the naked warriors, stained with\nochre, armed, feathered, and equipped. The last to leave set fire to\nthe huts and abandoned property. The flames gave the alarm to their\nopponents, who rushed through the fort to the beach, where they arrived\njust too late, and presented, illuminated by the burning village in\nthe background, a vivid picture of baffled rage, going through the\nwar-dance with fearful yells and contortions. But they danced in vain,\nthough the exercise may have afforded them a melancholy gratification.\nThe _Cuba_ forthwith put to sea, and landed her human freight on the\nnortheastern shore among friends; but not until she had taken from them\ndeeds in fee of all their possessions in the west. Then, judging wisely\nthat Mate-oro would be found in no mood at that moment to discuss their\nlately acquired title, she put to sea and bore down on Rangi-haute,\nbeing the first vessel to cross the channel since Koche passed over in\nhis canoe ten years before.\n\nDieffenbach landed with a party, and in botanizing the isle was led to\nthe bower by a small spiral column of white smoke that arose from the\noven. No inhabitant was to be seen. The summer-house was ransacked of\nnets, pearl-hooks, knives, and baskets; the oven opened, and a spread\nof roast duck, hen, and karaka highly relished. The dark, transparent\nwater of the spring reflected the faces of the robbers, as they bent\nover to drink, with a distinctness of outline unattainable by the white\nwater of other lands; but when Koche returned to his habitation, which\nhe did when the ship was well at sea, the reflection had vanished\nfrom his mirror, the dinner from his oven, and the furniture from his\nbower. As from a rock he watched the receding bark, freighted with his\npeace of mind, he hoped and prayed she would pass Ware-kauri without\ntouching; but she ran in nevertheless, communicated with her friends,\nand related the visit to the isle. The news that Rangi-haute was\ninhabited soon reached Mate-oro, who read the riddle at once, and soon\nafter went over in person in pursuit of his quondam slave.\n\nThe party landed before noon, and, separating, closed in upon the\nbower from different directions to find it empty. They soon, however,\nstruck a fresh trail, which led them down the coast to a small inlet,\nin which it disappeared. Finding it did not issue on the opposite side,\nthey ascended either bank, watching closely for signs, until the bed\nof the stream dwindled to a rivulet and entered a thicket; when the\ntrail was taken up and followed with difficulty through bushes and\nunderwood, matted with vines, until it failed totally. Circuits were\nmade, and much time wasted in fruitless search, but the thread was\nlost, when the leader suddenly ordered the party back on the trail to\nthe mouth of the inlet, which they crossed, and moved down the beach\nlooking for footprints in the sand. Late in the afternoon they arrived\nopposite a coral rock that stood out a mile in the sea. The water was\nsmooth, and a man swam out to reconnoitre. They watched him until he\ndisappeared behind the rock, which presented a bluff to the shore, and\nwaited patiently to hear from him, but an hour had elapsed and he made\nno sign. The general opinion was that he had been devoured by a shark.\nMate-oro thought otherwise. He sent back a couple of men with orders\nto bring down the boat at daybreak, set a watch on the beach, built a\nfire, and went into camp.\n\nA favorable breeze springing up, the boat came in early, took aboard\nthe party, and rowed out. In a deep fissure in the rock, from which he\nwas unable to extricate himself, they found the Indian who had swum out\nthe evening before. He told them that when he turned, and was about to\nland, he was seized by the foot and drawn under the water, and, being\ntired and out of breath, almost instantly lost consciousness.\n\nWhen he recovered he found himself in utter darkness, and thought he\nhad passed into the spirit-land and was imbedded in a mountain for\npunishment. After a time he had looked up and seen the stars, but could\nmake nothing of his condition. He had seen or heard no one, but as well\nas he could recollect, the grasp on his ankle felt like the hand of a\nman. Several pieces of fresh broken coral were found, but no footprints.\n\nThe party hastened ashore, and, leaving a man with the boat, moved down\nthe beach, and an hour later struck the trail coming out of the water,\nand pursued it up a frightful chasm in the mountain, apparently without\nan outlet. But as they neared the head they discovered the point at\nwhich the trail began the ascent, and abandoning their dogs, the men,\nafter much difficulty and danger, gained the summit; when, to their\ninexpressible astonishment, the trail led them directly back to their\ncamp on the beach\u2014on reaching which they found their boatman lying on\nthe sand bound hand and foot with a running vine, gagged, and stunned\nby a blow on the head, and the boat gone.\n\nThe rage of Mate-oro was excessive, and expended itself upon the\nill-starred boatman, whom he ordered to be tossed into the surf\u2014a step\nhe speedily regretted and attempted to rectify; but when dragged out\nto be cross-questioned, the body could return no answer; its shade had\nquitted it, and was paddling a phantom canoe over the Stygian river to\nthe shadowy fishing-grounds.\n\nThe pursuers, full of wrath, set to work and built a korari, in which,\nwhen the wind became favorable, they made their way home, calling down\nmaledictions upon the head of the rebellious runaway. During their stay\nthey scoured the island for Koche, and kept a lookout for their lost\nboat, but saw nothing of either.\n\nTo the eastward of the southern point of Rangi-haute, and five miles\ndistant, lies the islet of Ranga-tira, consisting of a single mount\nof moderate elevation, from two to three miles across at the base,\nbehind which Koche took shelter in his captured boat. The same favoring\nbreeze that brought down his enemies in the morning, enabled him in a\nshort run to double the \u201ctira,\u201d and land upon her little beach of forty\nyards, quite out of sight and reach.\n\nHad the fugitive been content to take up his permanent habitation\nhere, all might doubtless have gone well; but the islet was too small\nto offer a place of concealment, and he feared an unsuccessful search\non the larger island would be followed by one on the smaller, in\nwhich event escape would be impossible. For this and other reasons,\nin which the question of food entered, but a cat-like attachment to\nhis old haunts ruled, he returned in the night after an absence of a\nmonth, and, reconnoitring, found the coast clear. He had resumed his\nold habits, adding to them a bright lookout to the northwest, when one\nmorning at daybreak, some months later, he discovered three canoes\nclose in to shore. He instantly struck into a deep ravine, and hoped by\ndoubling to gain time to reach and launch his boat. But he had hardly\ngot fairly off before his trail was taken up, and after a hot chase,\nin ascending a dark defile, the dogs brought him to bay, and, turning,\nhe took up a rock and dashed out the brains of the foremost, and was\nin deadly conflict with the pack, bleeding and faint, when a Zealander\ncame up with a club and felled him to the ground. When he recovered his\nsenses they were dragging him down the mountain by a rope tied about\nthe waist, torn with stones and briers, and bathed in blood; but even\nthen, until they reached the white beach, soon stained red, he caught\nat every root, and projecting stone, and bush, and log, and held on\nwith such tenacity that they were compelled to beat his hands to force\nthem to relax. He lay on the sand bound hand and foot all night, with\nparched mouth and throat, so bitten by the black sand-fly that by noon\non the following day he was swollen out of the semblance of man.\n\nWhen taken back to Ware-kauri he was confined and watched closely,\ntaunted with the title of \u201cKing of Pitt Island,\u201d fed and watered, but\nnot bodily ill-used. When sufficiently recovered and ordered to work,\nhe stood mute under two days\u2019 lashing, seeking death; but his master,\nwho felt his honor enlisted in the contest, had resolved to break, not\nkill him; and no provocation could wring from him the death-stroke.\nPerceiving this on the third morning, Koche set to work when ordered,\nand from thence performed the labor of two men; apparently completely\nsubjugated. From the fight with the dogs in the defile he had not\nuttered a word; now he became cheerful and talkative.\n\nIn the fourth year of his renewed captivity, all watch upon him having\nbeen removed, he was one evening among the slaves, employed in paddling\nout canoe-loads of provisions to a whale-ship that was lifting her\nanchor to sail. He boarded, and hid away in the hold unnoticed; and the\nship was clearing the harbor, when Mate-oro came out and instituted\nsearch. He was found and dragged on deck, but broke from his captors\nand sprang overboard. The ship\u2019s boat gave chase, overhauled him, and,\nas Mate-oro rose up in the bow to lay hands on him, he dived, and,\ncoming up behind, unshipped their rudder, and in the gathering dark\nreached the headland and disappeared. He made his way by forest paths\nto the eastern coast, where, finding an abandoned and broken canoe,\nhe stuffed her with kelp, and put to sea; by daylight he had sunk her\nbelow the eastern horizon, and at nightfall ran her on the beach of\nRangi-haute.\n\nKoche was himself again. He breathed anew the air of freedom, and his\nsoul exulted. Taught in his little school of adversity, he knew that\nvigilance would be the price of his liberty, and determined to exercise\nit, and carried out his resolution as well, perhaps, as any man since\nthe sun first shed on Eden his delightful beams\u2014that sun which shone\nupon him in his frail canoe that day for the last time for two dark\nyears; and on which, of his own free will, he never would have looked\nagain.\n\nAfter picking up what food he could find upon the beach, and breaking\nup and burying his canoe in a sand dune, he crossed the mountain, and,\nplunging into an obscure thicket, almost impenetrable, crawled into\na crevice surrounded by jagged fragments of volcanic rock. The spot\nwas almost absolutely inaccessible, and the danger of approach would\nhave appalled a spirit less dauntless than his\u2014not bent on liberty\nor death. He had breasted his way to it in the glare of day when\nperambulating his dominion; he now entered it with speed and safety a\nfugitive at midnight.\n\nIn his retreat, he made and used no instrument whatever\u2014no spear, or\nsnare, or knife, or line, or net. He never once approached the shore,\nor left the circle of his crags and dense surrounding thicket. At dusk\nhe peered from his sepulchre, and watched the birds take up their\nroosts upon the overtopping trees and bushes, and climbed up and caught\nthem in the night, and ate them raw. Hunger at first assailed him;\nbut his eye, becoming adjusted to the dark, marked down his prey with\nunerring certainty, and he was soon able to drive and keep the wolf\nfrom his den; and a water-drip in the rock quenched his thirst. At dawn\nhe sank into the earth, leaving behind no trace, no print of foot, no\ntrail; and when the sun uprose,\n\n  \u201cThe mists were curl\u2019d\n  Back from a solitary world.\u201d\n\nThe annals of his dark reign are soon told. Sleeping one day down\nin the impenetrable darkness, he was startled by the deep bay of a\nbloodhound; and his prophetic soul told him that the day of his second\ndethronement had dawned, and his night of freedom passed. Mate-oro had\nsearched the isle in vain, and given up the hunt, when Gobiah, a New\nZealand son of Belial, brought over a slave-hunter whose deep hate\npenetrated the impenetrable, and ran the fugitive to earth.\n\nExpectation in Ware-kauri was on tiptoe during the absence of the\nhunting-party; and on its return with the captive king a curious crowd\nassembled on the beach to greet them. As the boat came through the surf\nwith Mate-oro on the prow and Koche bound at his feet, a shout went\nup in honor of the chief, followed by derisive howling for the \u201cKing\nof Pitt.\u201d The march across the island was triumphal. Crowds flocked\nto gaze upon the principal figures. The New Zealanders praised their\npersevering chief, and called upon the \u201cking\u201d to burst his bonds. The\nTu\u00efti, apart, with sullen and downcast looks, felt their faint hearts\nbeat quick as they caught a glance of their indomitable countryman,\nstimulated by the sunlight, erect and proud, by whom the taunts of the\nmalignant masters were passing as the idle wind.\n\nGobiah and the hound shared the honors of the day, and all went merry\nas a marriage-bell.\n\nThe capture, with its varying and contradictory details, was the\nsensation of the period, and would have filled the columns of a\nnewspaper, had one existed, for a month. It subsided in due course, and\nKoche, after another futile attempt to get himself despatched, went\nto work as before with vigor and good cheer. His sovereign character\nwas now universally recognized, and he was invariably addressed by\nhis title in full. He accepted it in good humor, tinged with a little\npride. The Zealanders looked upon him with secret respect, while by\nhis own people he was regarded as one who, had their lot been less\nhopeless, would have proved the leader and saviour of the nation.\n\nTwo years elapsed, when an American vessel, ready for sea, was boarded\nby Mate-oro, and a demand made for the fugitive king. The ship was\nsearched from deck to keel, but no trace of him found. Unwilling to\nanger the fierce chief, who still declared he was aboard, she lay over\na day, and the search was renewed with like effect. In the afternoon\nshe stood out to sea, and at nightfall her hull was down, and the\nisland had disappeared, all save one volcanic peak that rose like a\npyramid above the waves. Then Koche came out from the fore-chains, in\nwhich he had in some mysterious manner buried himself, and caught a\nlast glance of his native mountain as it sank for ever from his view.\n\n\n\n\nNECESSITY _VERSUS_ ART.\n\n\nWE live in very busy days, and our lives hurry on to their end after\na very unceremonious fashion. Courtesy is out of date, and the world\nscrambles on chiefly according to the principle embodied in the\nwords, \u201cEvery one for himself, and God for all.\u201d This is the age of\nindividualism on the one hand, of levelling on the other. The system\nof aggregate life, of Christian brotherhood, and helpful fellowship\nis broken, and each one lives his little span to himself, jealously\ncherishing a phantom of independence which, when appealed to for\nprotection, has a tendency to shelter itself under the broader \u00e6gis\nof state supremacy. We live fast, and our lives wear us out. We pass\nthrough all the emotions, all the experiences, of life in fewer years\nthan our forefathers took to study their classics or prepare themselves\nfor a profession. Young men who have reached the _nil admirari_ stage\nbefore they are twenty, and young women who, before they are out of\ntheir teens, have gone through the various religious phases, and made\nup their minds that infidelity is the only rational system to adopt,\nare unfortunately on the increase among us. After pleasure, after\ncontroversy, what remains? Nothing but business. The mind of our day\nis essentially practical. A certain social necessity exists of living\nas well as your neighbors do, and of not \u201cgoing down in the world.\u201d\nCertain artificial habits are formed almost unconsciously in early\nyouth; certain fictitious indispensabilities grow up silently by\nyour side, and, to keep up appearances, a certain amount of money is\nwanted. In a new country where there is no privileged class, no landed\naristocracy, no law of primogeniture, each individual, to keep his head\nabove water, imagines he must take some means to increase his income\nas years go on. This means that the whole community should devote\nitself to commerce. But how does this \u201cnecessity\u201d affect the abstract\nprinciples of right and wrong, of moral beauty, of intellectual\ndevelopment? In this race for life, where is all that makes life\nbeautiful? This utilitarian spirit looks upon all that from its own\npoint of view, as an auctioneer, not as an artist. The question is,\n\u201cWill it pay?\u201d or \u201cHow much will it bring?\u201d not \u201cIs it civilizing, is\nit beautifying, is it ennobling?\u201d\n\nBeauty is nothing to modern critics; it is no longer judged by\nan abstract standard, but by the use which can be made of it. It\nis utterly debased from its original estate; for, from being the\nconsolation of the many, it has become the luxury of the few. Rich men\nthink it right and proper that they should be surrounded by ornamental\nobjects, not because they appreciate their worth, but because it\nshows off the wealth whose surplus they could afford to waste on such\nexpensive baubles. Costliness in ornamentation is the fashion of our\nday, as simplicity and studied ruggedness were the fashion in the days\nof Cromwell; and, cost what it may, the fashion must be followed. Do\nthese men care for their treasures? See what they would do with them if\nit ever became the fashion again to sit on wooden chairs, and eschew\nlooking-glasses. They are valued, as in a shop, by the price they cost;\nand old or new, elaborate or plain, it is all the same. The number\nof figures on a Dresden vase is nothing: the number of dollars the\nvase cost is everything. Some people would think nothing of a gem of\nworkmanship if it was got \u201cat a bargain\u201d or picked up on an old stall;\nsome would not be satisfied if the velvet they wore had been purchased\nat half price, so that they could not boast it had cost twenty-five\ndollars a yard! We will hope that such people are exceptions; still,\nthey exist. This is the exaggeration of the spirit of the age, and\nprevails chiefly among those whom the latter half of the age has just\nlanded among the inhabitants of the modern El Dorado; but, in a more\nor less rampant state, this spirit shows its cloven foot everywhere on\nthis vast continent.\n\nBut this is not the worst. If the appreciation of true art is wanting\nin the patron, the time to perfect \u00e6sthetic productions is wanting to\nthe artist. Nowadays everything must be done at once; people cannot\nwait; their houses must be run up in six weeks; for their churches\nthey will not wait longer than a year. Ornaments of all kinds must be\nforthcoming immediately, and, indeed, if any vegetable model could\nbe found, which, like the acanthus leaf of Greek sculpture, might\nbe identified with the idea of our modern \u201cart,\u201d who shall say that\nthe mushroom is not a most fitting type? Must we suppose it to be\nthe result of our wonderfully rapid progress in art that we should\nconstantly change our ideals, and demand quite a different standard of\nbeauty this month from that we asked for last June? No doubt we are\nso much more enlightened now that we could not wear the same colors\nwe wore last spring, and really thought quite pretty then, or that\nwe could not sit upon a sofa of the same shape as we found perfectly\ncharming last year! Of course, since our standards of taste vary so\nquickly, it could hardly be expected that very minute care should\nbe bestowed on our ornamental surroundings. In old days, when men\nworked for future ages, the leg of a chair was as delicately carved\nas a cathedral buttress; when houses were built for twenty coming\ngenerations to live in, the sculpture of a mantelpiece was wrought with\nas much care as a monumental effigy. But _nous avons chang\u00e9 tout cela_.\nOur houses are only intended to stand till they are pulled down to make\nroom for a railway depot, or till some advantageous offer is accepted\nto turn them into a suite of _modiste\u2019s_ or confectioner\u2019s show-rooms.\nOur furniture is meant to remain under our eyes only until we see a\nset five times as gorgeous and ten times as expensive, when the things\nwe once thought so perfect will be sent as antiquated rubbish to some\nauction-room, or ignominously hidden in the nursery or garret. And in\nthe meanwhile, where is art, nay, where is even comfort? Shall we not\nvery soon have overshot the mark, and find our lives becoming little\nshort of a pilgrimage from hotel to hotel? An English lady, whose\nhusband owned estates in all parts of England, Scotland, and Wales, and\nwho had at least six country-houses, each claiming the advantages of\nfamily residence during a short part of the year, once said to a friend\nless plentifully encumbered: \u201cMy dear, I envy you. I have half a dozen\nhouses in the country, and a large town-house; and, among them all, I\nhave not got a _home_!\u201d\n\nThis constant change of fashion necessitates flimsiness of material\nand carelessness of detail. But this is not all: it kills the artist\nspirit. The old workmen had a chance of becoming artists because they\nhad plenty of time to exercise and sharpen their faculties; they became\nused to certain sorts of work, and could perfect their ingenuity in\none particular line; and they had plenty of room for originality. Now,\non the contrary, it is more likely that the artist will degenerate\ninto a mere workman. He is hurried in his designs; he is often\ndictated to by ignorant patrons, who, not having the divine _afflatus_\nthemselves, have not even the wit to trust to those who have; he is\ncalled upon for six times the amount of invention that any man\u2019s brains\ncan possibly furnish within a given time; and, to crown all, he is\nlimited as to price\u2014which simply means as to materials, size, detail,\nand ornamentation. He is in danger of becoming either a drudge or a\nrenegade, very often both. His art gets to be a mere bread-winning\nbusiness, a dry round of machine work, a careless fulfilling of an\nunpleasant contract; and, under such adverse influences, no wonder the\ncreator-spirit leaves him, and he becomes simply a mechanic.\n\nArt was once a power in the world: now it is rather an appendage to\na power of a different sort. Even while it was patronized by popes\nand sovereigns, it was held as little less than sovereign itself; it\ndictated terms, and claimed a full meed of independence in the choice\nof its expressions within the limitations of orthodox symbolism. Now,\non the contrary, it is only tolerated so long as it conforms to the\nfashion of the hour, so long as it ministers to the belittled taste\nof to-day. Its votaries are no longer the honored guests of princes,\nthe equals of sovereigns, the arbiters of character. Of old, a painter\ncould immortalize a man by placing him in a certain part of his\npicture, or he could ruin him by giving him a place on the opposite\nside. Dante did the same thing in his unrivalled poem, and the sting\nwent home. But now what would the result be? The painter would lose\nhis custom, like a tradesman who sold damaged goods! Truly a dignified\nposition for the successors of Michael Angelo!\n\nTo be popular\u2014and popularity just now is apt to be confounded\nwith greatness\u2014art must truckle to the vitiated taste of a mob of\nignoramuses; architecture must give up noble proportions for the sake\nof speed and cheapness; painting must give up historical memories\nand religious inspirations for the sake of quick sales and gaudy\ncoloring; music and poetry must adapt themselves to the maudlin taste\nof the age, and pretty, shallow ballads and idyls must take the\nplace of symphonies, anthems, and epic poems. So with oratory\u2014it\nmust be graceful and piquant; that it should be logical and forcible\nis immaterial. So with sculpture\u2014we must have Rogers\u2019 groups,\nsewing-girls (why not have a sewing-machine and operator in marble?),\nshoe-blacks, anything that is domestic and prosaic, provided we have\nnothing heroic that will strain our powers of admiration, or excite\nhigh aspirations after the ideal.\n\nAs to minor articles which of old were real objects of art, how do we\nstand? Our jewelry, for instance\u2014in what stage of decay is it? Would\nBenvenuto Cellini think our clumsy plate worthy of his attention, or\nour massive barbaric bracelets _artistic_ productions? On the other\nhand, the lighter work is flimsy and insecure, equally unworthy of a\nchiseller\u2019s notice, except he toss it into the furnace, and reduce the\nmaterials into an usable shape. Again the money test comes in: the\nmere value of a precious stone is all, in modern times; the delicacy of\nthe setting, the thought of the designer, the time of the worker, are\nperfectly immaterial.\n\nThen our glass: it has no individuality whatsoever. We remember\nnoticing the strange contrast which happened to be most vividly\nexhibited in a certain street in London, where two shops side by side\nshowed a glittering array of their respective specialty, English and\nVenetian glass. The former, all blown by machinery, showed the most\nperfect symmetry of design, each glass of a set the exact counterpart\nof the other, the designs not varied to the extent of more than half a\ndozen patterns, and the very prettiest things\u2014baskets, for instance,\nor horns of glass\u2014pairfully, like three or four dozen similar ones,\nallotted to their particular corner in the shop. The Venetian glass,\non the contrary, was a study for a painter. Every conceivable variety\nof color, shape, and design, a luxuriance of detail, a fertility of\ninvention perfectly incredible, a picturesque individuality which will\nnot allow even pairs to do more than bear a general likeness to each\nother\u2014such are a few of the characteristics of this beautiful display\nof ornaments. We took up a fruit-dish of opaque glass, and asked if\nthere were any more of that sort, none but that one being visible in\nthe shop. It was a marvellous conglomeration of colors, veined like\nmarble, vivid shades dying off into browns and dusky yellows, etc.\nNo; there were no more of them. \u201cHow was this produced?\u201d we asked.\n\u201cI cannot tell,\u201d said the polite Venetian who kept watch over these\ntreasures; \u201cthis is a mere chance; the glass sometimes runs into these\ndesigns, but we might try for years, and never be able to reproduce\nthis.\u201d The other articles, some useful, some ornamental, and all\nmoulded by the hand, attested the most delicate and fantastic skill;\nthe fancy of the workman had been allowed to run riot within certain\ngeneral limits; no line was the exact counterpart of the other\u2014in a\nword, the work was artistic, not mechanical. The contrast was evidently\nunfavorable to the faultlessly mathematical proportions of the English\nglass, which, however, in its own line, and freed from comparison with\nhigher products, is very beautiful.\n\nMachinery has spoilt many minor arts; even the choir-stalls and the\nscreens of our day are often \u201cturned\u201d instead of carved, and in the\nplace of wrought-iron we have cast-iron in our grates and railings.\nEven the domain of music has been invaded, and we have barrel-organs,\norchestrions, and musical boxes. Some new mechanism in a Geneva box\nwill command thousands of dollars, and for a musical canary with\njewelled eyes, caged in a tiny gilded cage, people will give any\nsum; but who thinks twice of some unknown Beethoven or struggling\nMendelssohn whose sonatas and anthems might rival those of the masters\nof old?\n\nAll that we have said is merely an introduction to an explanation\nof the main subject of which we wish to treat, _i.e._ the effect\nof this modern spirit on artists themselves. There are personal\nramifications consequent on this low estimate of art which amount just\nto this: intellectual murder. The artist starts in life full of young\nenthusiasm\u2014and we include here all scholars and men who, in different\nprofessions, reverence the principle more than they care for the use of\ntheir craft\u2014he feels that there is an intellectual world beyond and\nabove the world of business and fashion, and he strives to spread the\nlove of this ideal among commoner mortals. He finds them unresponsive,\nthough he feels himself a teacher sent to enlighten them. Still they\nremain callous; they look on and laugh, and he starves. His art is all\nhe has whereby to live; for the spirit that recruits the ranks of art\nis a vagrant and fitful one, and does not qualify men for steady habits\nof lucrative drudgery. The truth now stares him in the face: he must\neither pocket his principles or lie down and die of hunger. If he is\nunusually persevering, and has that genius which does not alight more\nthan three or four times in a century on any child of Adam, he may\nend by winning a place at last in public opinion, by commanding what\nprices he likes, and by drowning, in the precarious tide of success,\nthe remembrance of the days when he fell below his own standard, and\nhad to drudge for bread. More often he will never succeed at all; he\nwill give up the unequal struggle, and be too glad if, by bartering his\nindependence, he can feed his wife and children.\n\nWe need hardly stop to say how baleful marriage too often is in the\ncase of artists; every one must see that. Unless in the rare instances\nwhen a man meets a woman heroic enough to help him on in the difficult\npaths of genius, nothing is more fatally clogging than marriage. It\nis idle to speak of the joys and comforts which it brings. These are\nephemeral in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred where an artist of even\naverage talent is concerned, while the responsibilities and vexations\nof marriage grow heavier every day. An artist\u2019s joy in his wife can\nonly be of two kinds: it results either from her physical beauty or\nfrom her intellectual sympathy. The former any sane man will weary\nof, even if he be rich enough to surround it with all those adjuncts\nwithout which the beauty itself will soon disappear; the latter\nimplies that ideal union which we have reason to deplore as being too\nrare to be even taken into practical consideration. We are speaking\nemphatically of poor artists, and every one knows the peculiarly\ntrying circumstances of poverty in any shape, more especially poverty\nendured by a refined nature. The domestic vexations of a poor artist\u2019s\nmarried life are something incalculable, and are almost enough to\ndestroy the patience of a saint. He may be poet, painter, or musician,\nit little matters what; but it is simply impossible that the daily,\nhourly shocks to his sensibilities should not leave a woeful impression\non his spirit. Is it encouraging to be interrupted in the middle of\na fine stanza by shrieks from the kitchen, and frantic appeals to\ncome and rescue the urchin who has pulled the wash-tub over himself?\nIs it inspiring to be interrupted in a fugue by the sound of a\nservant\u2019s shrill answer to the scolding of her incensed mistress? The\ncontemplation of an empty larder, and the calculation of how to fill it\nagain at the lowest figure of expense, is not an elevated occupation,\nnor is it likely to produce a very spirited picture or soul-stirring\npoem. Except in very rare cases, a rising artist should put off\nmarriage till his fame is in all men\u2019s mouths. A drag is a different\nthing from a companion, and to most such even a few years\u2019 solitude\nending in a mature choice ought to be far preferable to an uncongenial\nyoke which, long before success has softened it, has become only a\nnecessary evil.\n\nBut even to the unmarried artist or scholar, life holds out terrible\ntemptations. Many mistake popularity for greatness, sensationalism for\ngenius. If the higher walks of art do not \u201cpay,\u201d let us forsake them,\nand pick up gold in the byways! The trace of the clay will not stick to\nthe precious metal, and, if it has come from the pocket of ignorance\nto pay the price of vulgarity, still it is \u201chard cash,\u201d and will be\nnone the less welcome at the exchange! It will buy houses and land, it\nwill buy broadcloth and velvet, it will buy champagne suppers and opera\ntickets. The artist sees that he must be a slave\u2014a slave either to his\nown necessities or to the bad taste of his patrons. The former means\nsilent worship at the shrine of true art, an early death, an unknown\ngrave, and an obscure name; the latter means unblushing indifference\nto principle, a long and merry life, and a name on the lips of\nthousands. Human nature is weak, and, out of twenty men who once had\nthe possibilities of genius, nineteen will crush its development to\nearn their daily bread. No wonder that we have so few artists nowadays;\nno wonder that men who might have been so are only caterers for public\namusement and \u201cturners-out\u201d of so many landscapes or interiors a year.\nWhat are the subjects most in vogue just now, not to speak of nudities\nand immoralities? Everything that is trivial, pretty, if you will, but\ncommonplace\u2014children picking flowers, drawing-room scenes, a farm\nkitchen, a group of cattle, a nosegay lying beside a flagon of wine, a\nfew vegetables sliced open, a woman mending a shirt, etc.! Truly most\nnoble subjects whereon to expend the time, care, and ingenuity of a\nman of genius\u2014a man, at least, who might once have aspired to genius!\nBut these things sell\u2014everything trivial, childish, and _mesquin_\ndoes in our day\u2014and the artist must live! When necessity and art come\ninto collision, art must go to the wall! In music, ballads are the\norder of the day\u2014pretty little nothings set to pretty little tunes;\nstrains that are often no better than a cross between a popular song\nand a revival hymn! In poetry, the case is no better; in the drama, it\nis worse. The very patronage which lifts a man into notice kills his\ngenius and insults his manhood. A drawing-room pet is the highest title\nan artist can claim in these days, and, to gain that pitiful renown,\nhe must throw overboard all respect for principle, all love of art. He\nmust even make himself uncomfortable, forego innocent habits, burden\nhimself with stupid formalities, in order to reach that favor which\nhe feels in his inmost soul will only degrade him when he has won it.\nMany a man sells his soul to the devil in these days, just as in former\ntimes, but with this difference: that, in the old legends, the devil\nalways gave a generous equivalent, whereas now he puts one off with\nvery shabby gifts.\n\nThere is a quaint old tale of this sort current at Bruges, concerning\nan unhappy organist of very mediocre talents but immense ambition. He\nwas dying with envy because the organist of the cathedral drew crowds\nto hear his marvellous playing, while he himself could barely draw\nout a few meagre harmonies. At last, in despair, he made a compact\nwith the devil, bartering his soul for a long lease of years, during\nwhich he should be enabled to eclipse the best musicians in Europe.\nSuddenly it began to be noised about that there had been some strange\ncharm at work; the obscure artist had blossomed into a prodigy, and the\ncathedral was deserted. Years went on, and all the musical talent of\nthe medi\u00e6val world made pilgrimages to Bruges to hear the wonderful\nmusician whose fingers could evoke such matchless harmonies, and\ncause the most hardened sinners to melt into tears. But one day, the\npoor man got frightened, and, with much contrition and many prayers,\nbesought a priest to get him back his contract. The priest succeeded,\nand the devil was compelled to release his victim. The organist went\nas usual to his instrument. The church was full; foreigners were there\nand many of the notabilities of the town; but the musician\u2019s power had\nfled. The result was a disgraceful failure, and the strangers left the\nchurch, declaring that a trick had been put upon them. The unhappy man,\ndistracted and overwhelmed with shame, could not bear the ridicule of\nhis altered position, and, in a moment of desperation, called again\nupon his former ally. The devil forbore to reproach him, and gladly\ngave him back the fatal talent. Things went on as before; it was said\nthat a sudden indisposition had been the only cause of that memorable\nbreak-down, and crowds again flocked to hear the inspired organist. His\nend is darkly hinted to have been terrible.\n\nWell in this case\u2014supposing it to have been true\u2014the power over\nthe organ was a tangible and valuable gift; but nowadays artists\nand their patrons rather remind us of the story of Esau selling his\nbirthright for a _mess of pottage_! Rich men should feel themselves\nhonored by contact with artists, not _vice versa_. It is no more an\nhonor for an artist to please a millionaire than it is for the church\nto receive again a truant and gifted son. The abstract laws of art and\nintellect are above the superficial and shifting necessities of the\nworld, and, if there is to be any intercourse between the votaries of\nthe former and the slaves of the latter, it should be the part of the\nlower natures to do homage first to the higher. A great king once said\nto his courtiers, when one of them importuned him to bestow a title\nupon him: \u201cAssuredly I can make you a duke, monsieur, but God alone\ncan make you a gentleman.\u201d God alone can make an artist; God alone\ncan mould a spirit as refined, a soul as complex, an organization\nas sensitive, as art requires in its devotees; and it follows that\nwhosoever wilfully debases this spirit destroys God\u2019s own handiwork.\nThe world at large and its absurd maxims are much to blame, but the\nimprudence or carelessness of artists is none the less deplorable. No\none should without reason arrogate to himself this position; it is a\nspecies of priesthood, and, except a man or woman be impelled to an\n\u00e6sthetic career by an irresistible impulse, it is not a safe or happy\npath to tread. None can live in that atmosphere unless God has really\nfitted them for it, and to them, if they carry their lamps unquenched\nto the end, it must needs be a path of trial. As a pure speculation, it\nis the worst career a practical man can embrace. It dooms the artist to\na solitary life\u2014solitary in fact if he wishes to succeed; solitary in\nspirit if he hastily burdens himself with a badly chosen companion.\n\nWe were going to say that the ideal state of art would be that\nall artists should be born rich; but, though that would have its\nadvantages, it would perhaps take away from the dignity of art.\nMeyerbeer was born of a wealthy family, and Titian lived like a prince,\nbut those are exceptions. Besides, Titian won his riches by his art,\nthough his is a bad example to refer to, by the way, since he truckled\nvery much to the prevalent taste of his gorgeous era. All artists who\nhave touched the noblest chords of human nature have lived and died\npoor, and all artists in the future who care to emulate these giants\nof the past will have to resign themselves to a like poverty. Money,\nin these days\u2014and perhaps, if we had lived in other days, we should\nhave found it much the same then\u2014means a compromise with principle.\nThose who are born with it can alone enjoy it unmolested, and, say what\nyou will, they will always know how to enjoy it best. No one is so\ndiscriminating a patron of art and so considerate a friend of artists\nas the hereditary land-owner whose ancestors for generations were born\nto wealth and its duties; no one loves beauty so disinterestedly as one\nto whom the beautiful has never in any shape been a source of profit.\n\nAn aristocracy of birth and education is better fitted than one of\nwealth to appreciate the aristocracy of intellect; both are, in the\npurest sense of the word, a \u201cprivileged class,\u201d and both ought to be\nactuated by the proud old motto: _Noblesse oblige_. Money can never\nbe the test of the unseen; genius cannot be purchased, and art has no\nprice. The heaviest equivalent ever paid for any work of art is but\na drop in the ocean compared to the thing gained; for it is not the\nmaterial you pay for\u2014the canvas, the marble, or the painting; it is\nnot even the artist\u2019s time, though that is most precious; but it is\nthe very soul of the man, the breath of his life, the essence of his\nbeing. What can ever be sufficient compensation for that? You can buy\nthe expression of his thought, but his thought itself remains with him,\nso that his work is more his own than it is yours even after you have\npurchased it. His creations are his children, and belong to him by that\ninalienable right of paternity which no human law of sale and barter\ncould possibly supersede.\n\nAfter this, what are we to think of art? Simply that it is the most\ndivine gift, in the natural order, vouchsafed to man, and entitles the\nartist to a place more exalted than that of any favorite of fortune,\nbe he prince, noble, or merchant. When will the common world of rich\nmen understand that? When will artists themselves ensure that it be not\nforgotten? That it is not merely a means of living, a bread-winning\ndrudgery? It is a reflection of God, a ray of his creative power, a\nsolace given to earth, a humanizing influence left among the barbarians\nof all times (for we are all barbarians in the long run, and saints and\nartists are the only civilized beings worth notice!) Let us, then, bow\ndown our heads, and accept the dictation of art, rather than presume to\nimpose our trivial conventionalities on one of God\u2019s chosen messengers.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME JEANNETTE\u2019S PAPERS.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF ERCKMANN-CHATRIAN.\n\n\nWHEN I was a boy, I used to go every day after school to watch\nJean-Pierre Coustel, the turner, at his work. He lived at the other\nend of the village. He was an old man, partly bald, with a queue\nhanging down his back, and his feet encased in old worn-out shoes. He\nused to love to talk of his campaigns on the Rhine and on the Loire\nin La Vend\u00e9e. Then he would look at you and smile to himself. His\nlittle wife, Mme. Jeannette, sat spinning in the corner behind him;\nshe had large black eyes, and her hair was so white that it looked\nlike flax. I can see her now. She would sit there listening, and she\nwould stop spinning whenever Jean-Pierre spoke of Nantes; it was there\nthey were married in \u201893. Yes; I can see all these things as if it\nwere yesterday: the two small windows overgrown with ivy; the three\nbee-hives on a board above the old worm-eaten door, the bees fluttering\nin the sunshine over the roof of the hovel; Jean-Pierre Coustel with\nhis bent back turning bobbins or rods for chairs; the shavings winding\nthemselves into the shape of corkscrews.... I can see it all!\n\nAnd I can also see coming in the evenings Jacques Chatillon, the dealer\nin wood, with his rule under his arm, and his thick red whiskers;\nthe forest-keeper, Benassis, with his game-bag on his hip and his\nhunting-cap over his ears; M. Nadasi, the bailiff, walking proudly,\nwith his head up, and spectacles on his nose, his hands in his\ncoat-pockets, as if to say: \u201cI am Nadasi, and I carry the citations to\nthe insolvent\u201d; and then my Uncle Eustache, who was called \u201cbrigadier,\u201d\nbecause he had served at Chamboran, and many others besides; without\ncounting the wife of the little tailor Rigodin, who used to come after\nnine o\u2019clock in search of her husband, in order to be invited to drink\nhalf a pint of wine\u2014for, besides his trade of a turner, Jean-Pierre\nCoustel kept a wayside tavern. The branch of fir hung over the low\ndoor; and in winter, when it rained, or when the snow covered the\nwindow-panes, many liked to sit under the shelter of the old hut,\nand listen to the crackling of the fire, and the humming sound of\nJeannette\u2019s spinning-wheel, and the wind whistling out of doors through\nthe street of the village.\n\nFor my part, I did not stir from my corner until Uncle Eustache,\nshaking out the ashes of his pipe, would say to me: \u201cCome, Fran\u00e7ois, we\nmust be going.... Good-night all!...\u201d\n\nThen he would rise, and we would go out together, sometimes in the mud,\nsometimes in the snow. We would go to sleep at my grandfather\u2019s house,\nand he used to sit up and wait for us.\n\nHow plainly I can see these far-off things when I think them over!\n\nBut what I remember best is the story of the salt marshes which\nbelonged to old Jeannette\u2014the salt marshes she had owned in La Vend\u00e9e\nnear the sea, and which would have made the fortune of the Coustels if\nthey had claimed their rights sooner.\n\nIt appears that, in \u201893, they drowned a great many people at Nantes,\nchiefly the old aristocracy. They put them into barks tied together;\nthen they pushed the barks into the Loire, and sank them. It was during\nthe Reign of Terror, and the peasants of La Vend\u00e9e also shot down all\nthe republican soldiers they could take; extermination was the rule\non both sides, and no mercy was shown by either party. Only, whenever\na republican soldier demanded in marriage one of these noble ladies\nwho were about to be drowned, if the unfortunate girl were willing\nto follow him, she was immediately released. And this was how Mme.\nJeannette had become the wife of Coustel.\n\nShe was on one of these barks at the age of sixteen\u2014an age when one\nhas a great dread of death!... She looked around to see if no one would\ntake pity on her, and just then, at the moment the bark was leaving,\nJean-Pierre Coustel was passing by with his musket on his shoulders; he\nsaw the young girl, and called out: \u201cHalt ... a moment!... Citoyenne,\nwilt thou marry me? I will save thy life!\u201d\n\nAnd Jeannette fell into his arms as if dead; he carried her away; they\nwent to the mayoralty.\n\nOld Jeannette never spoke of these things. In her youth, she had been\nvery happy; she had had domestics, waiting-maids, horses, carriages;\nthen she had become the wife of a soldier, of a poor republican; she\nhad to cook for him, and to mend his clothes; the old ideas of the\nch\u00e2teau, of the respect of the peasants of La Vend\u00e9e, had passed\naway. So goes the world! And sometimes even the bailiff Nadasi in his\nimpertinence would mock at the poor old woman, and call out to her:\n\u201cNoble lady, a pint of wine!... a small glass.\u201d He would also make\ninquiries about her estates; then she would shut her lips tight, and\nlook at him; a faint color would come into her pale cheek, and it\nappeared as if she were going to answer him; but afterwards she would\nbend down her head, and go on spinning in silence.\n\nIf Nadasi had not spent money at the tavern, Coustel would have turned\nhim out of doors; but, when one is poor, one is obliged to put up with\nmany affronts, and rascals know this!... They never mock at those who\nwould be likely to pull their ears, as my Uncle Eustache would not have\nfailed to do: they are too prudent for that. How hard it is to put up\nwith creatures like these!... Every one knows there are such beings.\nBut I must go on with my story. We were at the tavern one evening at\nthe end of the autumn of 1830; it was raining in torrents, and about\neight o\u2019clock in the evening the keeper Benassis entered, exclaiming:\n\u201cWhat weather!... If it continues, the three ponds will overflow.\u201d\n\nHe shook out his cap, and took his blouse off his shoulders, to dry it\nbehind the stove. Then he came to seat himself on the end of the bench,\nsaying to Nadasi: \u201cCome, make room, you lazy fellow, and let me sit\nnear the brigadier.\u201d\n\nNadasi moved back.\n\nNotwithstanding the rain, Benassis appeared to be pleased; he said that\nthat day a large swarm of wild geese had arrived from the north; that\nthey had lighted on the ponds of the Three Sawmills; that he had spied\nthem afar off, and that the shooting on the marshes was about to begin.\nBenassis laughed and rubbed his hands as he emptied his glass of brandy\nand water. Every one was listening to him. Uncle Eustache said, if he\nwent to shoot them, he should go in a little skiff; for as to putting\non high boots and going into the mire, at the risk of sinking in above\nhis ears, he would not fancy that much. Then every man had his say, and\nold Jeannette musingly murmured to herself: \u201cI also owned marshes and\nponds!\u201d\n\n\u201cAh!\u201d cried Nadasi, with a mocking air, \u201clisten to that: Dame Jeannette\nused to own marshes....\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d said she, \u201cI did!...\u201d\n\n\u201cWhere were they, noble lady?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn La Vend\u00e9e, on the sea-coast.\u201d\n\nAnd as Nadasi shrugged his shoulders, as much as to say, The old woman\nis crazy! Mme. Jeannette ascended the little wooden staircase at the\nback of the hovel, and then came down again with a basket filled with\nvarious articles, needles, thread, bobbins, and yellow parchments,\nwhich she deposited on the table. \u201cHere are our papers,\u201d said she: \u201cthe\nponds, the marshes, and the ch\u00e2teau are there with the other things!...\nWe laid claim to them in the time of Louis XVIII., but my relations\ndenied our rights, because I had married a republican. We would have\ngone to law, but we had no money to pay the lawyers. Is it not so,\nCoustel, is it not true?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said the turner, without moving.\n\nThe persons assembled took no interest in the thing, not any more than\nthey would have done in the packages of paper money of the time of the\nRepublic, which may still be found in old closets.\n\nNadasi, still mocking, opened one of the parchments, and was raising\nhis head to read it, in order to laugh at Jeannette, when suddenly his\ncountenance become grave; he wiped his spectacles, and turning towards\nthe poor old woman, who had sat down again to her spinning.\n\n\u201cAre these your papers, Mme. Jeannette?\u201d said he.\n\n\u201cYes, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill you allow me to look at them a little?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou can do as you please with them,\u201d said she; \u201cthey are of no use to\nus.\u201d\n\nThen Nadasi, who had turned pale, folded up the parchment with several\nothers, saying: \u201cI will see about that.... It is striking nine o\u2019clock;\ngood-night.\u201d\n\nHe went away, and the rest soon followed him.\n\nEight days after this, Nadasi set out for La Vend\u00e9e; he had obtained\nfrom Coustel and Dame Jeannette his wife their signature to a paper\nwhich gave him full power to recover, alienate, and sell all their\nproperty, taking upon himself the expenses, with the understanding that\nhe was to be repaid if he obtained the inheritance for them.\n\nSoon after a report was spread in the village that Mme. Jeannette was\na noble lady, that she owned a ch\u00e2teau in La Vend\u00e9e, and that Coustel\nwould soon receive a large income; but afterwards Nadasi wrote that he\nhad arrived six weeks too late; that the own brother of Mme. Jeannette\nhad shown him papers which made it as clear as the day that he had\nheld possession of the marshes for more than thirty years; and that,\nwhenever one holds the property of another for more than thirty years,\nit is the same as if one had always had it; so that Jean-Pierre Coustel\nand his wife, on account of their relations having thus enjoyed their\nproperty, had no longer any claim to it.\n\nThese poor people, who had thought themselves rich, and whom all the\nvillage had gone, according to custom, to congratulate and flatter,\nwhen they found they were to have nothing, felt their poverty still\nmore keenly than before, and not long afterwards they died within a\nshort time of each other, like Christians, asking of the Lord pardon\nfor their sins, and confident in the hope of eternal life.\n\nNadasi sold his post of bailiff, and did not return to the country;\ndoubtless he had found some employment which suited him better than\nserving citations.\n\nMany years had passed; Louis Philippe had disappeared, then the\nRepublic; the couple Coustel slept on the hillside, and I suppose even\ntheir bones had crumbled into dust in the grave. For my part, I had\nsucceeded my grandfather at the post-house, and Uncle Eustache, as he\nhimself had said, had taken his passport, when one morning, during the\ngay season at Baden and Homburg, there happened to me something quite\nsurprising, and of which I still think frequently. Several post-chaises\nhad passed during the morning, when, towards eleven o\u2019clock, a courier\ncame to inform me that his master, M. le Baron de Ros\u00e9li\u00e8re, was\napproaching. I was at table. I immediately rose to superintend the\nrelay of horses. Just as they were being harnessed, a head was put\nout of the coach-window\u2014an old wrinkled face, with hollow cheeks,\nand gold spectacles on the nose\u2014it was the face of Nadasi, but old,\nfaded, worn out; behind him leaned the head of a young girl; I was all\nastonishment. \u201cWhat is the name of this village?\u201d inquired the old man,\nyawning.\n\n\u201cLaneuville, sir.\u201d\n\nHe did not recognize me, and drew back. Then I saw an old lady also in\nthe coach. The horses were harnessed: they set off.\n\nWhat a surprise, and how many ideas passed through my mind! Nadasi was\nthe Baron de Ros\u00e9li\u00e8re. May God forgive me if I am wrong! but I still\nthink that he sold the papers of poor Jeannette, and that he assumed\na noble name to ward off the questions of the inquisitive. What was\nthere to prevent him? Had he not obtained all the title-deeds, all the\npapers, all the powers of attorney? And now has he not had the thirty\nyears of possession? Poor old Jeannette!... What misery we meet with in\nthis life!... And God permits it all!...\n\n\n\n\nTHE ANGEL AND THE CHILD.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF REBOUL.\n\n\n  An angel bent with pensive air\n    Above an infant\u2019s dream,\n  And seemed to view his image there\n    As in a stainless stream.\n\n  \u201cO beauteous child!\u201d he said, \u201cI see\u201d\u2014\n    His breath like music\u2019s sigh\u2014\n  \u201cThe earth is all unworthy thee:\n    Come with me to the sky.\n\n  \u201cEarth has no happiness complete;\n    The soul can never lift\n  Thee to a height where round thy feet\n    No clouds of pain will drift.\n\n  \u201cAt every feast, unbidden guest,\n    Some fear will still intrude:\n  No day so calm but in its breast\n    The morrow\u2019s storm may brood.\n\n  \u201cAnd shall care leave with passing years\n    Its impress on this brow?\n  And sorrows dim with growing tears\n    These eyes so tranquil now?\n\n  \u201cNo, no, sweet child! Come, let us mount\n    Above the fields of space;\n  Kind Heaven will cancel the account\n    Of life\u2019s foreshadowed days.\n\n  \u201cI pray no selfish grief may view\n    This day with mournful eyes,\n  Or with reproachful words pursue\n    Our way to paradise.\n\n  \u201cBut let your mother lift her brow\n    To Faith\u2019s serenest light;\n  To one as innocent as thou,\n    Life\u2019s last hour shines most bright.\u201d\n\n  A subtle radiance from his wings\n    Upon the child was shed;\n  The angel mounting upward, sings:\n    \u201cPoor mother! thy child is dead.\u201d\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n THE DOCTRINE OF HELL, VENTILATED IN A DISCUSSION BETWEEN THE\n REV. C. A. WALWORTH AND WILLIAM HENRY BURR, Esq. New York: The\n Catholic Publication Society. 1873.\n\nThis is a very small 18mo volume of one hundred and fifty-one pages,\ncontaining more solid matter than some large octavos, as any person\nwho knows F. Walworth\u2019s style of writing would naturally expect. It\ncontains a correspondence between himself and the gentleman whose\nname is given above, who was a classmate of F. Walworth and one of\nhis fellow-members in the Presbyterian church of Union College. This\ncorrespondence appeared in the _Investigator_, a notorious infidel\nnewspaper of Boston, and was called forth by an indignant denial\nsent to that paper by F. Walworth of a false and utterly groundless\nreport that he had refused submission to the decrees of the Council\nof the Vatican. Mr. Burr, who has renounced the errors of Calvinism,\nand embraced those of infidelity and spiritism, took occasion from\nthis denial and the explicit avowal of perfect submission to all the\ndoctrines of Catholic faith involved in it, to question his former\nclassmate in regard to the doctrine of eternal punishment, and to\ninquire of him how far his present belief in that doctrine agrees with\nhis former belief while a Presbyterian. This brought on a controversy,\nin which Mr. Burr attempts to argue against the Catholic doctrine by\nridiculing and denouncing certain descriptions of the torments of\nhell given by various writers, both Protestant and Catholic, bringing\nin at the same time a number of discursive and random remarks about\nmany other topics, which are generally both very silly and altogether\nirrelevant. F. Walworth, on his side, steadily refuses to be drawn from\nthe proper subject of controversy, or to permit his adversary to make\nhim responsible for the private opinions of any person, Protestant or\nCatholic, and adduces strong, solid, irrefutable arguments from reason\nin support of the strictly Catholic doctrine taught authoritatively\nby the Church and obligatory on all her members. The only point which\nF. Walworth professes to aim at, and toward which his argument is\ndirected with undeviating logic, is this. The doctrine which the church\nauthoritatively teaches and imposes as obligatory on the conscience\nof her children is not contrary to reason, but in accordance with it,\nand capable of being proved by rational arguments. In his statement\nof what that doctrine is, F. Walworth follows Petavius, Perrone, and\nArchbishop Kenrick with theological accuracy. He says (pref., p. 9),\n\u201cI have planted myself simply and purely upon the defined doctrine of\nthe Catholic Church, and what that doctrine necessarily involves.\u201d\nThis is evidently to be understood of doctrine as defined, in the more\ngeneral sense of definitely and precisely taught by the infallible\nmagistracy of the church, by whatever method the church may exercise\nthis magistracy, and not to be restricted to definitions _de fide_\ncontained in explicit decrees of popes and councils. The logical\ndeductions following necessarily from that which is precisely the\narticle of Catholic faith are included in the obligatory doctrine. And\nwhere these deductions have not been expressly drawn out and defined\nin ecclesiastical decrees, the authority of the concurrent teaching of\ntheologians is acknowledged in explicit terms by F. Walworth: \u201cWhere\nany questions remain undefined, I bow respectfully to the concurrent\nopinions of [the church\u2019s] leading theologians. Beyond this I will not\nbe bound\u201d (p. 47). He says further: \u201cAll the language of Holy Scripture\non the subject must be accepted and maintained\u201d (Pref., p. 8), which\nis in accordance with a monition of the last Council of Baltimore to\nCatholic writers on this subject. The same council also admonishes\nCatholic writers not to diminish the punishment of sin in such a way\nas to destroy its proportion to the sin. And if any one will examine\nwhat F. Walworth has written, he will see that in this respect also he\nhas fulfilled the precept of the Fathers of Baltimore to the letter.\nThe statement of the defined doctrine of the church respecting hell\nmade by F. Walworth is precisely that of Petavius: \u201cThere is a hell,\nand it is eternal.\u201d Into the question of the specific physical nature\nand instrumental causes of the punishments of hell he does not enter\nvery deeply. The only opinion of a Catholic writer which he expressly\nopposes is that of F. Furniss, that the torments of hell increase in\ngeometrical proportion throughout eternity\u2014an opinion which, so far\nas we know, is not supported by any grave authority. Opinions which\nare matters of lawful difference and discussion are left on their own\nproper ground within the domain of theology. The point to be proved\nis that reason cannot show any valid objection to the doctrine of\nthe everlasting punishment of the man who finishes his term of moral\nprobation on the earth in the state of mortal sin. Mr. Burr produces no\nsuch objection. His admissions even confirm the truth of F. Walworth\u2019s\npositions. He admits that a state of intellectual and moral degradation\nis in itself a state of misery. The sinner is in this disordered state\nwhen he dies. If he lives for ever in the same state, this everlasting\nstate of existence is hell. But who can bring conclusive evidence that\nthere is any necessary cause which must bring him out of this state in\nthe future life? Such evidence not being forthcoming, reason has not\na word to say against the teaching of revelation, that those who fail\nin their earthly probation have no other, and must abide for ever the\nconsequences of their own acts.\n\nSome persons may object to the publication of a controversy in which\ninfidel arguments are placed within the reach of Catholic readers.\nIn the present instance, we think the cause of infidelity has alone\nany reason to fear anything from Mr. Burr\u2019s letters. His reasonings\nare so weak and rambling, and the replies of F. Walworth so plain and\nconclusive, that it must do good to any reader who has a Christian\nbelief to see what a wretched, disgusting substitute for divine\nreligion is offered to the dupes of infidel sophistry. Infidelity\ndestroys the mind and the manhood of the human being. In the form of\nmaterialism, it makes him a beast; in the form of spiritism, a lunatic.\nWe do not say that books of this kind should be expressly placed in\nthe hands of all readers, especially children and those who never read\nanything or hear anything except what is good; but we say to those who\ndo hear and read the infidel sophistry and blasphemy of the day, and\ntherefore need a refutation of it: Take the two sides represented in\nthis book\u2014\u201cLook on this picture, and then look on that.\u201d\n\nWe must add that there are some most beautiful passages in F.\nWalworth\u2019s letters; that, as a literary work, they are a gem; and that\nthe appendix on the universal belief of mankind in hell, though brief,\nis remarkably comprehensive and valuable.\n\n THE THRESHOLD OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH: A Course of Plain\n Instructions for those entering her Communion. By Rev. John B.\n Bagshawe, Missionary Rector of S. Elizabeth\u2019s, Richmond. With a\n Preface by the Right Rev. Monsignor Capel. New York: The Catholic\n Publication Society. 1873.\n\nThe first part of this manual contains instruction in the truths of\nfaith; the second part, on sacraments, rites, devotions and similar\nmatters. It is good for candidates for admission into the Catholic\nChurch, for recent converts, and for clergymen, religious ladies,\nteachers, and others who have converts to instruct.\n\n\n A WINGED WORD, AND OTHER STORIES. By M. A. T., author of _The\n House of Yorke_. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\nThis collection of stories, already published separately in THE\nCATHOLIC WORLD, ought to be welcome to all readers of taste and\ndiscernment. It is just the book for summer reading, the only companion\none could bear in the retirement of the woods, and one whose spirit\nwould never jar upon any of nature\u2019s moods. Fancy reading Miss Braddon\nor Wilkie Collins under the forest canopy or by the river bank! But\nhere is a book which, at every page, will help you to put your own\nvague thoughts into words, and will almost make you think that you\nunderstand the song of the bobolink and the chatter of the squirrel.\nAnd yet it is a book full of human interest, made up of human stories,\nand treating of sorrow and want as well as of joy and peace. If we did\nnot know that the authoress was a New Englander, we should say she was\na German, so subtle and so spiritual are her principal characters,\nso tender and so chaste her infinitely varied language. There is no\npassion, no stir, no sensation in her plots, and her words do not pour\nforth like a lava torrent, suggesting dangerous possibilities, and\ncaressing the animal instincts of our lower nature, like too many of\nthe successful and popular authors of our day. Reading her books, one\nexperiences a sense of coolness, and feels as if transported to a white\npalace, where a crystal fountain plays unceasingly, and the silent\nsilver bells of lilies hang in clusters over the stream. It would\nfill all the space we have at command to quote any of her beautiful\ndescriptions of scenes in the woods or by the golden sea-shore; she\nseems to have gone down into the heart of every flower and learnt its\nsecret, to have lured the confidence of every brooklet, and made every\ntree sing her some woodland poem.\n\nThe stories themselves (except the last) are the merest sketches, made\nto hang beautiful thoughts upon, just as we plant a slender pole for a\nscarlet vine to creep over. Yet they are each of them very original,\nsuch as only \u201cM. A. T.\u201d would or could write.\n\nOne passage in \u201cDaybreak\u201d has been criticised in the Philadelphia\n_Standard_ as containing the Nestorian heresy. It is found on p. 183:\n\u201cIf you are willing, I would like to teach her to bless herself before\npraying, and to say a little prayer to the Mother of Christ for your\nsafety. I won\u2019t make her say \u2018Mother of God.\u2019\u201d A little attention to\nthe context will make it perfectly evident that this criticism is\ngroundless, and that any Catholic might use this language in a similar\ninstance with perfect propriety. Mr. Granger and his little daughter\nwere Protestants. Margaret had no right to teach the child anything\nwhich was against the conscience of her father. He was willing that she\nshould address the Blessed Virgin as the Mother of Christ, but not that\nshe should use the term Mother of God. Mother of Christ is a perfectly\nproper and orthodox title, and is used by the Church in the Litany of\nLoretto. Therefore, it was right to teach the child to use it, with\nher father\u2019s permission, and to abstain from teaching her to use the\nexpression Mother of God, which is really its precise equivalent. S.\nBasil did not even require certain persons who were estranged from the\nCatholic fold through the Arian heresy, but who wished to be admitted\nto the communion of the Church, to profess in express terms that the\nHoly Ghost is God, but was satisfied with a profession of his divinity\nin equivalent terms. If an equivalent term may sometimes be admitted\nin the case of Catholics, much more may it be employed in teaching\nthose who are not Catholics. It is one thing to use terms which are\nheretical, another to use those which are less explicit, but more\neasily understood by those who do not know the true meaning of the more\nexplicit Catholic terms.\n\nOne of the stories in this collection, \u201cWhat Dr. Marks Died Of,\u201d might\nhave been omitted without any loss to the volume. It may easily be\ntaken as a shot at the medical profession, and if that was the author\u2019s\naim, it is one which we cannot approve. If it was not, the story is an\narrow in the air.\n\n THE IRISH REFORMATION; or, The Alleged Conversion of the\n Irish Bishops at the Accession of Queen Elizabeth, etc. By W. Maziere\n Brady, D.D. Fifth Edition. London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1867. (New\n York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\n STATE PAPERS CONCERNING THE IRISH CHURCH IN THE TIME OF QUEEN\n ELIZABETH. Edited by W. Maziere Brady, D.D. London: Longmans,\n Green, Reader & Dyer. 1868. (New York: Sold by The Catholic\n Publication Society.)\n\nWe have had frequent occasion of late to notice with pleasure and to\ncongratulate our readers and the Catholic community generally on the\nrevival in England of Catholic literature, and particularly of that\nclass of works which has a tendency to illustrate the dark era of\npersecution and proscription which, commencing under the reign of Henry\nVIII., may be said to have reached almost down to our own day. In the\nlast generation, Dr. Lingard, by his impartial _History_, cleared away\na good deal of the rubbish with which the deformities of the so-called\nEnglish Reformation were hidden from view; subsequently, Lady Fullerton\nand other distinguished writers of fiction attempted, and with success,\nto gain the attention of the public to their admirable portraiture of\nthe sufferings and fortitude of the Catholics of England in the times\nof Elizabeth and James I.; while the erudite editor of the _Narrative\nof F. Gerard_ has, by his industry and conscientious labors, placed all\nfuture historians under a great debt of gratitude.\n\nThe works before us, though treating of a different subject, and\nwritten by a Protestant clergyman, have a tendency very similar to\nthat produced by the writings we have mentioned. The first is devoted\nto a discussion of the question whether the Protestant hierarchy in\nIreland can legally and historically claim descent from the ancient\nchurch in Ireland; or, in plainer terms, have the Anglican bishops\nin that country ever been consecrated at all, at any time, or by any\ncompetent authority? In tracing up the succession of the defunct\n\u201cEstablishment,\u201d the author gives very succinct and accurate sketches\nof every incumbent, Catholic and Protestant, of every diocese in\nIreland from the middle of the XVIth century and proves by dates,\nfacts, and public documents that the \u201creformed\u201d prelates have no\nmore right to claim apostolic succession than they have to claim\nto be the apostles themselves. When we mention that Dr. Brady is a\nbeneficed clergyman, and was formerly chaplain to the lord lieutenant,\nour readers will have little hesitation in accepting conclusions so\ndamaging to his own church, and which, as he tells us himself, only the\ncause of truth could have compelled him to publish.\n\nThe other book, though not so interesting, is to us on this side of\nthe Atlantic of much greater value, as few of us have an opportunity\nof consulting the originals. It is a collection of state papers,\nletters, documents, and petitions \u201ctouching the mode in which it was\nsought to introduce the Reformed religion into Ireland,\u201d and are all\nauthenticated copies taken from the records of the State Paper Office\nin London. However much Dr. Brady may have done by these publications\nto damage the cause of Protestantism in Ireland, and to humble the\npride of a faction that never has and never can possess the respect\nor affection of the people upon whom it has so long preyed, he has\ndeserved by his fairness and courage the esteem and thanks of all\nimpartial lovers of historical truth.\n\n\u2014Since the above was in type, we find occasion for congratulating\nthe author upon having arrived at the conclusion to which his\ninvestigations naturally led, _i.e._, his reception into the Catholic\nChurch.\n\n\n A VISIT TO LOUISE LATEAU. By Gerald Molloy, D.D. Boston: P.\n Donahoe. 1873.\n\nThis pretty little gem of a book, which has an engraving of the cottage\nof the Lateau family as a frontispiece, will charm and edify all those\nwho take an interest in reading about the wonders of divine grace with\nwhich our age is specially favored.\n\n\n DIRECTORIUM SACERDOTALE: A Guide for Priests in their Public\n and Private Life. By F. Benedict Valuy, S.J. With an Appendix for the\n use of Seminarists. London: John Philp. 1873.\n\nThis manual for ecclesiastics is highly commended by the Abb\u00e9 Dubois,\nan eminent director of a seminary in France, and an author of works\nspecially intended for priests, who calls it \u201cthe priest\u2019s _Following\nof Christ_,\u201d and by the Bishop of Shrewsbury, to whom it is dedicated\nby the translator. A valuable appendix has been added, containing a\ncatalogue of books for a priest\u2019s library and for a mission, _i.e._,\nparochial and lending library. It is enough to see Mr. Philp\u2019s name as\npublisher to know that it has been carefully, neatly, and conveniently\nprinted.\n\n\n A HUNDRED MEDITATIONS ON THE LOVE OF GOD. By Robert\n Southwell, Priest of the Society of Jesus. Edited, with a Preface, by\n John Morris, S.J. London: Burns & Oates. 1873.\n\nThere is a delicious quaintness about these meditations. They are\ncolloquies with God and with self, and come from the soul of a poet\nwho \u201caspired to and attained martyrdom.\u201d A sketch of the saintly\nauthor has recently appeared in THE CATHOLIC WORLD (\u201cPoet and\nMartyr,\u201d April, 1873), so that it is needless to give one here. But the\nfrontispiece of the volume before us is a portrait of F. Southwell,\nwhich is valuable.\n\n\nONLY A PIN. Translated from the French of J. T. De\nSaint-Germaine. By P. S. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n1873.\n\n_Only a Pin_, but an exceedingly valuable one, pointing a moral keenly\nand sharply; having a head secure and sound, not likely to be turned\nby any accidental twist; altogether a well-manufactured pin, straight\nand strong, not weakly bending this way and that to serve illegitimate\nuses, but made in the best factory and of good metal; a pin belonging\nto the first and oldest family in Pindom, and sure to make its mark in\nthe literary world.\n\nWe often hear the expression \u201cnot worth a row of pins,\u201d but a row like\nthis pin would be far from worthless. One would hardly expect to\nbecome interested in the events brought about by so small an article as\na pin; yet the accomplished author has managed to engage attention most\nagreeably from the first chapter to the last.\n\nThe translation is in the main very natural and easy, but now and then\na sentence seems a little careless or obscure.\n\n\n TALES FROM CHURCH HISTORY: VIVIA PERPETUA; or, The Martyrs\n of Carthage. By R. De Mericourt. Translated from the Second French\n Edition. New York: P. O\u2019Shea. 1873.\n\nThe heroine of this story is S. Perpetua, the companion of S.\nFelicitas. The story is well conceived and powerfully written. We have\nnot seen the original, but the translation shows an experienced and\ncompetent hand, and has the great merit of reading as if the book had\nbeen composed in English. There are, however, a number of inaccuracies\nin respect to names, some careless sentences, and other blemishes of\nstyle, some of which may be due to incorrect proof-reading, as the\nerrors evidently typographical are numerous. For instance, the Pontifex\nMaximus is called the Pontiff Maximus, and in one place two Christian\nconverts are called \u201cconvicts.\u201d Such an admirable story as this is,\nwith its thrilling delineations of Christian heroism and pagan cruelty,\nought to pass through more than one edition. If it does, we hope the\npublisher will have its clerical errors corrected by a competent hand,\nand the press-work more carefully performed, so as to make the book in\nall respects _comme il faut_. If this is intended as the first of a\nseries, the project is one worthy of commendation.\n\nSince the foregoing was put in type, we have ascertained that the story\nas it appeared in French was \u201cimitated from the English,\u201d which, we\nare informed, means that it was a free translation of an English book.\nThis accounts for certain omissions which appear rather singular in\na Catholic tale of this sort. No mention is made of the altar, the\nsacrifice of the Mass, or holy communion. The explanations of Christian\ndoctrine and the answers to Vivia\u2019s objections are not complete and\nsatisfactory. M. de Mericourt has taken care, however, that nothing\ncontrary to Catholic doctrine should be admitted, and as the events of\nthe story do not require any minute description of Christian doctrine\nor worship, the omissions noted do not essentially detract from its\ncharacter as a portraiture of Christian virtue in the midst of the\ndangers and trials of pagan life.\n\n\n CARDINAL WISEMAN\u2019S ESSAYS. Vol. III. New York: P. O\u2019Shea.\n 1873.\n\nThis new volume contains the splendid refutation of High-Church and\nTractarian theories which appeared at the height of the Oxford movement\nin the _Dublin Review_. Few persons have ever convinced so many and\nsuch able antagonists by an argument as the great cardinal did in this\ncase. If it were possible to obtain the little volume on the last\nillness and death of the cardinal, printed in England for private\ncirculation, to be published with this collection of his works, the\nCatholic community would feel itself very much favored. The cardinal\nwas a holy man, as well as a great prelate. We have had the pleasure\nof reading the beautiful account of his last illness and saintly death\nin the little volume alluded to, and we cannot help thinking that its\npublication would be an act of great propriety and utility, unless\nthere is some reason for reserving it for a place in a large and full\nbiography.\n\n\u2014Before going to press, we have noticed among the English\nannouncements that the work above referred to has been published.\n\n THE FISHERMAN\u2019S DAUGHTER; THE AMULET. Tales by Hendrick\n Conscience. Baltimore: Murphy. 1873.\n\nIt is superfluous to praise Conscience\u2019s tales, which are even better\nthan Canon Schmid\u2019s. These two are uncommonly interesting, and\npublished in a very nice and attractive form, which makes them as\npretty little volumes for prizes as boy or girl could wish.\n\n\n MODERN MAGIC. By Schele De Vere. New York: G. P. Putnam\u2019s\n Sons. 1873.\n\nThis is a crude hodge-podge of facts which the author has picked up\nhere and there, in which he utterly fails to distinguish between the\nnatural, the diabolical, and the divine. He has read some Catholic\nworks, and is to some extent familiar with the lives of the saints;\nbut the little that he knows only serves to place his ignorance in a\nstronger light. What a pity it is that educated men should be ignorant\nof what a child can so easily learn! Except for the additional examples\nwhich he brings from recent times, Mr. De Vere would have been more\nusefully employed in translating G\u00f6rres, from whom he occasionally\nquotes.\n\n LA PRIMAUTE ET L\u2019INFAILLIBILIT\u00c9 DES SOUVERAINES PONTIFES,\n ETC. Par l\u2019Abb\u00e9 L. N. B\u00e9gin, D.D. Quebec: Huot. 1873.\n\nThis is another timely and admirable course of lectures from the Laval\nUniversity. The topics of the lectures are historical, embracing\nthe chief difficulties presented in the earlier, medi\u00e6val, and\nlater history of the Roman pontiffs respecting the supremacy and\ninfallibility of the successors of S. Peter. The controversies on\nrebaptism, the Philosophumena, the case of Liberius, of Zosimus, of\nVigilius, of Honorius, the subject of the false decretals, the career\nof S. Gregory VII., the conflict of Boniface VIII. with Philip le\nBel, the affair of the Templars, the great schism of Avignon, the\ncondemnation of Galileo, the suppression of the Jesuits, and several\nother topics, are discussed in these able lectures in a critical and\nerudite manner, in so far as space and the other conditions to which\nthe nature of his discourses subjected the author, have given him\nthe opportunity. The whole is preceded by an essay on the doctrine\nof the supremacy, and concluded by a short eulogium on Pius IX. The\nauthor is a graduate of the Roman College, and imbued with the sound\nscholarship and orthodox spirit of that institution, the headquarters\nof sacred science, which may God deliver from the impure horde who\nare now defiling its precincts by their odious presence! There are a\ngreat number of intelligent Catholic laymen seeking with anxiety at the\npresent time for clear, satisfactory information on just these topics\nwhich the Laval professor has handled in the lectures now published. It\nis a pity that they are accessible to those only who read French. If\nthe Quebec publisher would issue an edition in English, we are inclined\nto think that the sale in England and the United States would reimburse\nhim. The lectures on the Syllabus, noticed in this magazine some months\nago, are also worth translating, and the publication of two such\ncourses in the English language would most certainly bring great honor\nto the Laval University.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTO CONTRIBUTORS.\u2014New contributors are reminded that no\nattention can be paid to manuscripts unless accompanied by the writers\u2019\nreal names, and a reference, if they are unknown to the editor.\n\nWe also desire it to be understood that short, pithy articles on\nsubjects of present interest will have the preference, and that none\nshould exceed twelve printed pages (of 650 words each), except by\nspecial arrangement.\n\n\nBOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.\n\n From BURNS, OATES & CO., London, and The Catholic Publication\n Society, New York: The Life and Letters of S. Francis Xavier. By H.\n J. Coleridge, S.J. Vol. II. 12mo, pp. xxi-579.\u2014Homeward. By Rev. F.\n Rawes, O.S.C.\n\n From J. MURPHY & CO., Baltimore: A Novena in Honor of S.\n Joseph. From the Italian of F. Patrignani, S.J. 24mo, pp. 104.\n\n From COLLINS & BRO., New York: Teachings of Jesus. 24mo, pp.\n 44.\n\n From HOLT & WILLIAMS, New York: On the Eve. By I. S.\n Turgenieff. 18mo, pp. vi.-272.\u2014Count Kostia. By Victor Cherbuliez.\n 18mo, pp. 307.\u2014Scintillations from the Prose Works of Heinrich Heine.\n 18mo, pp. xx.-185.\u2014Under the Greenwood Tree. By Thos. Hardy. 18mo,\n pp. vi.-269.\n\n From ROBERTS BROS., Boston: Memoir of Samuel J. May. 18mo,\n pp. 297.\n\n From D. & J. SADLIER & CO., New York: The Tithe-Proctor. By\n W. Carleton. 12mo, pp. xiv.-432.\u2014Ravellings from the Web of Life.\n By Grandfather Greenway. 12mo, pp. 364.\u2014Germaine Cousin. By Lady\n Fullerton. 18mo, paper, pp. 30.\u2014Which is Which? By the same. Paper,\n 18mo, pp. 45.\u2014The Elder Brother. By Mrs. Jas. Sadlier. 18mo, paper,\n pp. 31.\u2014The Invisible Hand. By Mrs. Jas. Sadlier. 18mo, paper, pp. 36.\n\n From BRIG.-GEN. ALBERT J. MYER, U.S.A.: Annual Report of the\n Chief Signal Officer to the Secretary of War, for 1872. 8vo, pp. 292.\n\n From DAILY JOURNAL PRINTING HOUSE, Syracuse: Addresses, etc.,\n at the Inauguration of Alex. Winchell as Chancellor of the Syracuse\n University. 8vo, paper, pp. 79.\n\n From THE SOCIETY: Annual Address of Chief-Justice Daly, the\n President, before the American Geographical Society, Feb. 17 1873.\n 8vo, paper, pp. 60.\n\n From G. I. & C. KREUZER, Baltimore: Das Leben des HI. Paul\n vom Kreuze. Aus dem Italienischen von einem Mitgliede der Congregation\n der Passionisten. 12mo, pp. xvi.-400.\n\n From HERDER, Freiburg: Leben des seligen Petrus Faber, ersten\n Priesters der Gesellschaft Jesu. Von Rudolf Cornely, S.J. 12mo, paper,\n pp. 200.\n\n From WEED, PARSONS & CO., Albany: Remarks of Hon. Thos.\n Raines in Reply to the State Engineer and Commissioners. Paper, 8vo,\n pp. 28.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 101.\u2014AUGUST, 1873.\n\n Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\n I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\n Washington, D. C.\n\n\nJEROME SAVONAROLA.\n\nPART THIRD.\n\n \u201cFor neither in our own age nor in those of our fathers and\n grandfathers has any ecclesiastic been known to be so richly endowed\n with virtues, on whom so great reliance could be placed, or who\n enjoyed a greater degree of authority. Even his opponents admit him\n to have been a man of vast learning in numerous branches.... This was\n especially the case in respect of the Holy Scriptures, and in the\n knowledge of which it is a general belief that there had not existed\n for ages any one at all his equal. He evinced a profound judgment,\n not only in literature, but in the ordinary affairs of life.... The\n confidence he inspired was marvellous.\u201d\u2014_Guicciardini, Storia Inedita\n di Firenze._\n\n \u201c ... Of such a man one ought never to speak but with\n reverence.\u201d\u2014_Machiavelli, Discorsi._\n\n\nCHARLES VIII. crossed the Alps at the head of an army of 22,000\ninfantry and 24,000 cavalry\u2014admirably armed and appointed for that\nperiod. They had thirty-six cannons, of which the wonder was related\nthat they were drawn by horses, the guncarriages having four wheels,\ntwo of which could be detached when they went into battery. To these\nforces were to be joined those of Ludovico the Moor, Duke of Milan,\nwho had specially urged the coming of Charles. To such an army as\nthis, the Italians feared that all the armies of Italy, even if they\ncould be consolidated, could offer no effectual resistance. They were\nin wretched condition, both as to men and commanders, and the famous\n_condottieri_ had degenerated into mere consumers of pay and rations.\n\nUnder the able diplomacy of Lorenzo, the most friendly relations had\nbeen cultivated with France, and Charles VIII. was inclined to treat\nTuscany more as an ally than an enemy. But Piero, with characteristic\nineptness, manifested a preference for Naples, and alienated the French\nking. The indignation of the Florentines was intense when they found\nthat Piero\u2019s course was likely to bring an army of invasion within\ntheir walls; for the French advance was already marked by the brutal\nmassacres of the people of Rapallo and Fivizzano after the garrisons\nhad surrendered. Having separated his cause from that of the citizens,\nand without men and means to oppose the French, the frightened Piero\nset out for the king\u2019s camp to sue for peace. Charles had yet to pass\non his way to Florence three strongholds, Sarzanello, Sarzano, and\nPietra Santa, any one of which with a small force could hold a powerful\narmy in check. When Piero reached the French lines, Charles had been\nbesieging Sarzanello for three days without success. The invaders\nwere in a barren country, shut in between the mountains and the sea.\nIn point of fact, they were poorly commanded; the French king himself\nwas a model of stupid indolence and neglect, and they might easily\nhave been driven back in confusion. And yet the panic-stricken Piero,\nwithout consulting the ambassadors who accompanied him, immediately\nyielded to all the conditions demanded by Charles, and even more; for\nhe surrendered at once the three formidable fortresses, besides those\nof Pisa and Leghorn, and agreed, moreover, to a forced loan of 200,000\nducats from Florence. The fortresses thus given up had been gained by\nlong sieges and enormous sums of money, and were the military keys of\nTuscany. Naturally enough, the news of their surrender aroused the\nFlorentines to anger, which was intensified by what they heard from\nthe ambassadors of the conduct of Piero. Excitement spread throughout\nthe city. All business was suspended. Groups in the public places soon\nswelled to crowds. Fierce and angry-looking men were seen bearing\nweapons but partially concealed. Daggers were brandished that had not\nseen the light of day since the Pazzi conspiracy. Artisans of all\ntrades, and in particular the _ci\u00f3mpi_, the strong-armed wool-combers,\nabandoned their workshops, recalling their former triumphs under\nMichele di Lando in the days of the republic. But the old friends of\npopular liberty among the higher classes had, during the past sixty\nyears, all melted away in exile or persecution, and there was every\nexcess and atrocity to be feared from an enraged multitude just freed\nfrom servitude, and making no concealment of their threats against\nthose who had become wealthy and powerful by oppressing them. Such\ncrowds as these raged through the streets of Florence, when a sermon\nfrom Savonarola was announced at the _Duomo_. A dense mass of people\nsoon filled it, and Savonarola from his place looked down on a human\npowder-magazine in which the smallest spark in shape of an imprudent\nword would create explosion and spread dire disaster. If \u201cturbulent,\npriestly demagogue\u201d there were, this was the moment and this the place\nto find him.\n\nWhat said Savonarola?\n\nNot a word of their complaints or their wrongs, past or present; not\nthe slightest allusion to Piero or to the Medici; but, bending over the\npulpit with outstretched arms, and looking into the mass of upturned\nfaces with gaze of affection and expression of tenderest sympathy,\nhe poured out words of peace, union, and charity: \u201cBehold, the sword\nhas descended, the scourges have commenced, the prophecies are being\nfulfilled; behold the Lord, who is leading on those armies. O Florence!\nthe time for music and dancing is at an end: now is the time for\npouring out rivers of tears over your sins. Thy crimes, O Florence!\nthy crimes, O Rome! thy crimes, O Italy! are the cause of these\nchastisements. Behold, then, give alms, offer up prayers, be a united\npeople. O my people! I have been to thee as a father; I have labored\nthroughout my life to make thee know the truth of faith, and how to\nlead a good life, and have met with nothing but tribulation, scorn,\nand opprobrium. I might have had this compensation at least, that I\nmight have seen thee performing some good deeds. My people, have I ever\nshown any other desire than to see thee in safety, to see thee united?\nRepent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. But that I have said\nmany times. I have so often cried out to thee, I have so often wept\nfor thee, O Florence! that it might have sufficed thee. I turn, then,\nto thee, Lord; pardon this people, who desire to be thine.\u201d He then\nwent on enjoining charity and faith with an energy overflowing more\nwith affection than eloquence, and the crowd who entered the _Duomo_ a\nraging multitude, left it in peaceful procession.\n\nOld Gino Capponi, a man resolute in word and deed, arose in a meeting\nof the signiory, and said: \u201cThe republic must look to itself; _it is\nhigh time to get rid of being governed by children_. Let ambassadors be\nsent to King Charles, and, if they meet Piero, let them not salute him.\nLet commanding officers and troops be called in, and, while kept out of\nsight in cloisters and other places, hold themselves in readiness, so\nthat, while nothing is wanting in honorable dealing with the king, we\nyet stand prepared to resist designs to which we should not submit. And\nabove everything, do not fail to send with the ambassadors the Padre\nGirolamo Savonarola, to whom the people are so entirely devoted.\u201d\n\nCapponi\u2019s suggestions were all adopted. The embassy was sent,\nSavonarola following it on foot\u2014his usual mode of travelling. The\nother ambassadors were coldly received by the king, and immediately\nreturned to Florence with the assurance that his majesty was by no\nmeans well disposed towards the republic. Savonarola reached the French\ncamp, and, passing through the soldiery, soon came in presence of the\nking, seated among his generals. He was courteously received, and,\nwith slight preamble, thus addressed Charles in a loud and commanding\ntone: \u201cMost Christian king, thou art an instrument in the hand of the\nLord, who sends thee to deliver Italy from her afflictions, as for many\nyears I have predicted, and sends thee to reform the church, which lies\nprostrate in the dust. But if thou be not just and merciful; if thou\npay not respect to the city of Florence, to its women, its citizens,\nits liberty; if thou dost forget the work for which the Lord sends\nthee, he will then select another to fulfil it, and will let the hand\nof his wrath fall upon thee, and will punish thee with awful scourges.\nThese things I say to thee in the name of the Lord.\u201d\n\n\nEXPULSION OF THE MEDICI.\n\nMeantime, serious events had occurred in Florence. The reports of the\nreturning ambassadors had produced still greater excitement. Piero de\u2019\nMedici had attempted to regain possession of the government, but had\nfailed, was hooted at, mobbed, driven from the city, and a price set\nupon his head. _Palle! palle!_[163] once the all-powerful rallying-cry\nof the Medici in Florence, fell dead on the ears of the people. The\nMedicean palace was seized, and the houses of Cardinal de\u2019 Medici,\nand of Guidi and Miniati, confidential agents of the Medici, were\nsacked. The turbulent mob appeared disposed to proceed to still greater\nlengths, when Savonarola returned from his mission to the French camp,\nagain preaching charity, union, and peace.\n\nHis bold language had profoundly impressed the French king, who\nresolved to be guided by what the monk had said, and on the 17th of\nNovember, 1494, at the head of a portion of his army, some 12,000\nmen, he made a peaceful entry into the city of Florence. Meanwhile,\nCapponi, resolved to be prepared for the worst, had laid in good store\nof munitions of war in buildings where he held reserves of soldiery, in\ncloisters and courtyards. Materials for barricading the streets were\nprovided, and all were ordered to come forth armed at the first sound\nof the bell. His precautions were timely.\n\n\nCHARLES ENTERS FLORENCE.\n\nThe reception of the French king was magnificent, and, after the\nceremonies, feasts, and illuminations attendant upon it, he was\nsumptuously installed in the Medicean palace. Here the wife and the\nmother of Piero de\u2019 Medici contrived to negotiate with him for the\nrestoration of the Medicean rule. Tempting offers were made him:\nPiero was to be brought back, and the government of Florence was to\nbe shared with the king. The effect of all this was soon visible in\nthe extravagance of the demands made by Charles upon the Florentines.\nThe signiory resisted; the king refused to recede, and gave them his\n_ultimatum_. On its rejection by the syndics, he said, in a threatening\ntone: \u201cThen we shall sound our trumpets.\u201d \u201cAnd we,\u201d instantly replied\nCapponi, springing to his feet\u2014\u201cand we will ring our bells.\u201d\n\nCharles thought better of it, and the treaty was shortly afterwards\nsigned. It recognized the republic, and gave the king the sum of\n120,000 florins in three instalments. The treaty ratified, still the\nking lingered. Troubles arose. Collisions had taken place between\nthe soldiery and the citizens; robbery and murder were of nightly\noccurrence; shops were closed, and trade generally suspended. The worst\nconsequences were feared, and Savonarola, fully occupied in preaching\npeace and warding off dangers, was implored to use his influence with\nthe French king, and persuade him to depart. He immediately presented\nhimself before Charles, who, surrounded by his nobles, graciously\nreceived him.\n\n\u201cMost Christian prince,\u201d said the monk, \u201cthy stay causes great damage\nto this city and to thy enterprise. Thou losest time, forgetting the\nduty that Providence hath imposed upon thee, to the great injury of\nthine own spiritual welfare and the world\u2019s glory. Listen, then, to the\nservant of God. Proceed on thy way without further tarrying. Do not\ndesire to bring ruin on this city, nor provoke the anger of the Lord.\u201d\nA few days afterwards, the king and his army departed.\n\n\nTHE REPUBLIC.\n\nGreat was the joy of the Florentines to be rid of the foreigner and his\narmed legions. Short as had been his stay, it left profound traces.\nPisa, Arezzo, and Montepulciano had risen in rebellion. The enormous\nsums paid to the French king had drained the resources of the city. The\nwealthy were impoverished, and misery spread among the poorer classes.\nSavonarola proposed, first of all, to provide for the wants of these\nlast, and to take up collections for them. If they proved insufficient,\nto turn into ready money the plate and ornaments of the churches; to\nreopen the shops without delay; to lighten the taxes, especially to the\nlower classes; and, finally, to pray to God with fervor.\n\nA _parlamento_, or assemblage of the people, was now held to establish\nthe new government. Without experience or sufficient knowledge on their\npart, it resulted in the re-establishment of the old magistrates, and\nthe maintenance of the old forms so cunningly devised by the Medici,\nthat, while the people possessed the outward show of an independent\ngovernment, it was one which from its nature could easily be wielded at\nthe will of one man. These defects soon became apparent, and various\npropositions for reform were forthwith made at the Palazzo. Differences\nwere represented by two parties, headed respectively by Paolo Antonio\nSoderini, and Guido Antonio Vespucci. Soderini was of the popular\nparty, and preferred the form of government at Venice as the best model\nfor the Florentines to adopt, stipulating that, instead of limiting the\nGrand Council, as in Venice, it should be composed of the whole people,\nand a smaller council called, composed of the _ottimati_, or men of\nexperience. Vespucci argued strongly against the democratic features\nof Soderini\u2019s proposition. It was evident that he carried with him the\nmajority at the Palazzo, and among them, naturally enough, many recent\npartisans of the Medici. While the debates grew warmer and longer, many\ncitizens feared the result, and appealed to Savonarola for counsel.\nHe, too, saw the danger even more clearly than they, and resolved\nto give the counsel asked. The interference of holy and religious\npeople in political affairs was no new thing in Italy. S. Dominic had\nparticipated in affairs of state in Lombardy; peace had been effected\nbetween the Guelphs and Ghibellines by a cardinal; S. Catherine of\nSienna interfered to raise the interdict pronounced on Florence by\nGregory XI.; and S. Antonino, the former Archbishop of Florence, had\nmore than once interposed to prevent the passage of unjust laws.\n\nOn the third Sunday in Advent (Dec. 12, 1494), in the course of\nhis thirteenth sermon on Aggeus, Savonarola spoke to the people of\ngovernment, discussed its general nature, the advantages of its several\nforms, and what was best for them; and concluded this ought to be the\ngroundwork: that no individual shall have any benefit but such as is\ngeneral, and _the people alone must have the power of choosing the\nmagistrates, and of approving the laws_.\n\nIn a subsequent sermon at the _Duomo_, to which he invited all the\nmagistrates and people except women and children, he presented the four\nfollowing propositions:\n\nFirst. They should in all things have the fear of God before them, and\nthere should be a reform of manners.\n\nSecond. All considerations of private utility should yield to the\npublic good and the cause of popular government.\n\nThird. General amnesty absolving the friends of the late government\nfrom all blame, and remitting all penalties, with indulgence to those\nwho were indebted to the state.\n\nFourth. Establish a general government which should include all\ncitizens who, according to the ancient statutes, formed a part of the\nstate, recommending the form of the Grand Council at Venice as best\nadapted, modifying it to suit the peculiar character of the Florentine\npeople.\n\nThis effectually disposed of the plan of Vespucci, which would\notherwise have prevailed at the Palazzo, leaving Florence under a\npatrician government which might ripen into despotism, or be the\never-frequent provocation of fresh disorders and revolutions.\n\n\nSAVONAROLA ON GOVERNMENT.\n\nThere is nothing more remarkable in Savonarola\u2019s character and career\nthan the familiarity displayed by him with the principles and practical\nworking of government, as manifested by his writings and sermons\nduring the course of the debates and struggles attendant upon the\nformation of the new republic. On all the proposals or modifications\nof fundamental laws, the popular party would enter into no discussion,\nnor take any decisive step, until Savonarola had spoken. And it was\nremarked that, during the discussions which followed in the Consiglio\nand other assemblies, the new law itself, or arguments pro or con for\na change or abrogation of the old, were presented by those who spoke\nin the very words in which he had discussed the matter in his sermons.\nIt would indeed be matter of legitimate surprise that a monk whose\nwhole time was, as we have seen, fully occupied with the duties of his\nstation, should possess even slight command of a subject so foreign\nto his calling, were it not that we are apprised of the sources of\nSavonarola\u2019s knowledge. They lay in his profound study of S. Thomas\nAquinas for the principles, and in his keen personal observation for\nthe practice, of government. To the treatise _De Regimine Principium_\nhe is largely indebted for his theory of popular government. No modern\nwriter has pointed out the evils of tyrannical government more clearly\nthan S. Thomas Aquinas, and none more clearly than he has shown that\ngovernment to be the best which tends most to the moral, intellectual,\nand material interests of the people, and includes the largest number\nof citizens under its protection. We sincerely regret that our\nrestricted limits will not permit the citation of numerous passages\nfrom \u201cthe Angelic Doctor\u201d upon this subject, clothed in to-day\u2019s\nEnglish; they might much more readily be taken for the lucubrations of\nan advanced political thinker of 1873 than for those of an ecclesiastic\nof 1273. And we would express the same regret as to the work of\nSavonarola\u2014his _Treatise on Government_.[164] Throughout the entire\nrange of modern literature, comments on Machiavelli\u2019s _Il Principe_\nare so constantly dinned in our ears that one might suppose the Italy\nof that day to have been in profound ignorance even theoretically\nof the principles of free government. Savonarola\u2019s treatise is the\nantidote of Machiavelli\u2019s _Prince_. There are passages in it from which\nit might be concluded that he not only saw the necessities of actual\ndemocratic governments, but also foresaw the dangers of those not yet\nin existence. Thus: \u201cNot wealth, as we commonly believe, is the cause\nwhy an individual attains the headship of a state. Rather the cause\nlies in this: that an individual attains to overwhelming influence and\nexclusive consideration in the state by the possession and distribution\nof public offices and dignities. To deprive individuals of this power\nis the first stipulation of a popular government, which demands that\nno law and no tax, no office nor honor, should be conferred or become\nvalid without the consent of the whole people. But in order that the\nwhole people shall not be collected together on every occasion, this\nright will be vested in a certain number of citizens,\u201d etc. And he\nconcludes with this passage: \u201cAs in everything, so likewise in the\nstate spiritual force is the best and worthiest of ruling powers.\nHence it is that, even from the beginning, a still imperfect state of\ngovernment will flourish in complete security, and with time acquire\nperfection; if it is always universally acknowledged that the end\nof all Christian states is the improvement of the citizens by the\nwithdrawing of all obscenity and all wickedness, and that the truly\nChristian life subsists in the fear of God; if, moreover, the law of\nthe Gospel is esteemed as the measure and rule of civil life and of all\nlaws that are made; if, further, all citizens show a true love of their\ncountry; if, finally, a general peace shall have been concluded among\nthe citizens, all past injustice of the former government forgiven, and\nall older hatred forgotten\u2014such unity makes strong within, secure and\nfeared without.\u201d\n\n\nSAVONAROLA\u2019S CIVIL REFORMS.\n\nThe first measures decreed by the new government proved superior\nintelligence in political matters. The ancient laws of the city were\nfound in such confusion that even judges and officials were not aware\nof the extent of their duties or their jurisdiction. It was ordered\nthat these laws should be consolidated in one volume, or, as we would\nsay nowadays, codified. Savonarola then insisted on a reform in the\nsystem of taxation, which, under the Medici, was not only onerous and\nclumsy in application, but unjust in its distribution. The so-called\n_catasto_, or system of assessing taxes on the supposed profits of\ntrade and commerce, was not only exhausting but absolutely destructive\nof many branches of trade and industry, at once ruining those who\npursued them, and drying up the sources of wealth to the state. \u201cLay\nthe taxes solely on property,\u201d said Savonarola. \u201cPut an end to the\ncontinual loans and all arbitrary imposts.\u201d And he recommended a new\nsystem\u2014one devised with so much prudence, says Villari, so much\nwisdom, and on such sound principles, that it has continued to be\nacted upon ever since. This new law established a tax on property for\nthe first time in Florence, and also for the first time in any part\nof Italy; it put an end to all loans and arbitrary assessments, and\nobliged every citizen, without distinction, to pay ten per cent. of the\nincome he derived from permanent property.\n\nA general amnesty for political offences was next decreed, and many\npenalties assessed were remitted. Among the latter was one of June 8,\n1495, which possesses a certain historical interest: \u201cThe magnificent\nsigniory and Gonfalonieri, considering that Messer Dante Alighieri,\ngreat-grandson of the poet Dante, has not been able to return to this\ncity, from his want of means to pay the taxes imposed by the signiory\nin the past November and December, and they being of opinion that it\nis very fitting that some mark of gratitude should be shown, through\nhis descendants, to a poet who is so great an ornament to this city, be\nit enacted that the said Messer Dante may consider himself free, and\nhereby is free, from every sentence of outlaw, exile, etc.\u201d\n\nSavonarola next drew public attention to the sore need of a _Monte di\nPiet\u00e0_\u2014an institution to which the poor could resort in pecuniary\nstress for a temporary loan of money on objects pledged. By reason\nof the absence of such an establishment, and the popular indignation\nagainst the Jews, from whom the needy were obliged to borrow, serious\ndisturbances had broken out under Piero de\u2019 Medici; but the poor were\nno better off than before, and the necessity of some aid for them was\na crying one. It was officially ascertained that there were Jews in\nFlorence who lent money at 32-1/2 per cent., with compound interest, so\nthat a loan of one hundred florins on their terms would in fifty years\namount to 49,792,556 florins.\n\nSavonarola urged the subject vehemently from the pulpit, without,\nhowever, attacking the Jews. He desired they should be converted, not\npersecuted. A law was passed (Dec. 28, 1495) establishing a _Monte_.\nExpenses of the institution were not to exceed 600 florins per annum;\ninterest to be paid by the borrower not to exceed six per cent.; and\nborrowers were required to take an oath that they would not gamble\nwith the money so lent. Thus, with a fairer administration of justice,\na radical reform in taxation, the abrogation of usury, the permanent\nrelief of the poor, the liberty to carry arms, the abolition of the\nParlamento, and the establishment of the Consiglio Maggiore, it may be\nsaid that the freedom of the Florentine people was obtained without\nbloodshed or riot in a single year. The American traveller of to-day\nwho visits Florence will remark on the platform in front of the Palazzo\nVecchio the admirable statue of Judith slaying Holofernes\u2014the work of\nthe immortal Donatello. It was placed there at this time as a symbol\nof the triumph of liberty over tyranny. On its pedestal are inscribed\nthese words: _Exemplum sal: pub: cives posuere MCCCCXCV_. (\u201cThe\ncitizens placed this symbol of the public safety, in the year 1495\u201d).\nIf the man who was the soul of this great movement had been a great\nsoldier or potentate, his name would have been handed down to posterity\nas that of a new Lycurgus. But he was a simple white-robed monk, with\nno other insignia of rank or authority than his persuasive word and the\nexample of his pure life. Neither in the public places nor the meetings\nof deliberation and discussion was he ever seen, nor had he any\nsystem of secret influence or hidden working. Of seeking any personal\nadvantage or emolument no one ever thought of seriously accusing him.\n\nAll he thought and had to say on matters of public weal he announced\npublicly in the pulpit. To those who complained of undue clerical\ninfluence in secular matters, and hinted at the desire of a monk to\ngovern a republic, he replied that in its trouble he held it to be his\nduty to give advice to the new state, especially when so many in the\ncouncil feared to proclaim the truth. More he had not done. Seeking to\nlead men to propriety and justice is not meddling. Such participation\nin civil affairs is neither unworthy itself of a priest nor without\nexample in history, ancient or modern. He had gone no further than to\ndenounce open abuses, to encourage men to what was good and peaceful,\nand to preach the Gospel. \u201cI have said to you,\u201d he tells them in one of\nhis sermons, \u201cthat I will not mix in government affairs, but only labor\ntherein to preserve complete the general peace. To recommendations of\nindividuals or similar solicitations I never yield. Go with these to\nthe proper officials. I also say here openly, if any of my friends\nshould be recommended to you, deal no otherwise with him than according\nto justice. Yet once more: I do not meddle with state affairs; I wish\nonly that the people should remain in peace, and receive no injury.\u201d\n\nPerfect, Savonarola\u2019s work certainly was not, for there was in it\nthe germ of an oligarchic power which at a later day worked like a\nprinciple of corruption. Savonarola himself would have wished it more\ncomplete. It has been sought to throw personal ridicule upon the great\nDominican, and to deny him any marked political eminence; but when we\ngather the opinions of three great Florentines who lived after him,\nwho were not his disciples, and who were eminently qualified to judge\nthe subject-matter in question, moderns and foreigners may properly\nremain silent. We refer to Machiavelli, Guicciardini, and Gianotti. Of\nSavonarola personally, Machiavelli frequently spoke in terms of sarcasm\nand irony, although in his writings he refers, to \u201cthe learning, the\nprudence, and the purity of his mind.\u201d He describes him (_Decennale\nPrimo_) as \u201cbreathing divine virtue\u201d; and again he says: \u201cOf such a\nman one ought never to speak but with reverence.\u201d He admits the great\nimportance of the institutions founded by Savonarola, and tells Leo\nX. there is no other way to bring the state of Florence into order\nthan by the restoration of the Consiglio Maggiore\u2014the council for the\nestablishment of which Savonarola struggled with such pertinacity.\nGianotti, a noble patriot twice exiled, who made special study of the\nsubject of government, says: \u201cHe who established the Consiglio Grande\nwas a far wiser man than Giano della Bella, because the latter thought\nof securing the liberties of the people by humbling the great, whereas\nthe object of the other was to secure the liberties of all,\u201d and is\nelsewhere enthusiastic in his admiration of Savonarola. Guicciardini\nthe pompous historian and diplomat, and Guicciardini composing in the\nprivacy of his study, are two different writers. It is not in his\n_Storia d\u2019Italia_ that we must look for his real sentiments on certain\nsubjects. The diplomat holds the pen there. But in his _Ricordi_,\npublished long after his death, he says: \u201cSuch was the love of the\nFlorentines for the liberty conferred upon them in 1494 that no arts,\nno soothings, no cunning devices of the Medici, ever sufficed to make\nthem forget it; that there was a time when it might have been easy,\nwhen it was a question of depriving the few of their liberty; but,\nafter the Consiglio Grande, it was the deprivation of liberty to all.\u201d\nElsewhere he says: \u201cYou are under heavy obligations to this friar, who\nstayed the tumult in good time, and accomplished that which without\nhim could only have been attained through bloodshed and the greatest\ndisorders. You would first have had a government of patricians, and\nthen an unbridled popular government, giving rise to disturbances\nand shedding of blood, and probably ending in the return of Piero\nde\u2019Medici. Savonarola alone had the wisdom, from the outset, to arrest\nthe coming storm by liberal measures.\u201d Finally, in his _Storia di\nFirenze_, he has none but the most enthusiastic terms of praise for the\nprudence, the practical and political genius, of the friar, and calls\nhim the saviour of his country.\n\n\nTHE SERMONS AGAIN.\n\nThe great questions of government which then agitated Florence did not\nfor a moment distract Savonarola\u2019s attention from the duty of preaching\npractical Christian duties. After the course of sermons on Aggeus, he\npreached on the Psalms, for the Lenten course of 1495 on Job, resuming\nthe Psalms after Lent. Solid teaching and vehement admonition were\nnever absent, and the sermons of 1494 were quite as strongly marked by\nthose features as those of the first course at the _Duomo_, in one of\nwhich he tells his hearers: \u201cHow have you renounced the devil and his\npomps\u2014you who every day do his works? You do not attend to the laws\nof Christ, but to the literature of the Gentiles. Behold, the Magi\nhave abandoned paganism, and come to Christ, and you, having abandoned\nChrist, run to paganism. You have left the manna and the bread of\nangels, and you have sought to satiate your appetite with the food that\nis fit for swine. Every day avarice augments, and the vortex of usury\nis enlarged. Luxury has contaminated everything; pride ascends even to\nthe clouds; blasphemies pierce the ears of Heaven; and scoffing takes\nplace in the very face of God. You (who act thus) are of the devil,\nwho is your father, and you seek to do the will of your father. Behold\nthose who are worse than the Jews; and yet to us belong the sacred\nScriptures, which speak against them.... Many are the blind who say\nour times are more felicitous than the past ages, but I think, if the\nHoly Scriptures are true, our lives are not only not like those of our\nfathers of former times, but they are at variance with them.... Cast\nyour eyes on Rome, which is the chief city of the world, and lower your\ngaze to all her members, and, lo! from the crown of the head to the\nsole of the foot, no health is there.\n\n\u201cWe are in the midst of Christians, we converse with Christians, but\nthey are not Christians who are so only in name; far better would\nit be in the midst of pagans.... For now men have become lovers\nof themselves; covetous, haughty, proud, profane, disobedient,\nungrateful, given to ribaldry, without love, without peace, censorious,\nincontinent, spiteful, without benignity, treacherous persons,\ndeceivers, puffed-up, lovers of voluptuousness more than that of God,\n_who have the form of righteousness, but who deny the value of it_.\u201d\n\nMore than ever the people hung upon his words. Numbers came from Pisa,\nLeghorn, and the neighboring cities to hear him; many also from as\nfar as Bologna, to remain in Florence during Lent. Residents of the\nneighboring villages and hamlets, and mountaineers from the Apennines,\nfilled the roads to Florence on Saturdays and the eves of feast days;\nand, when the city gates were opened at dawn of day on Sunday morning,\ncrowds were there waiting entrance. Strangers thus coming were received\nwith brotherly charity, and the duties of Christian hospitality were\nobserved. Even in winter, the people of Florence rose from their\nbeds after midnight, in order to reach the _Duomo_ in time to secure\na place, and then waited in church, taper in hand, praying, singing\nhymns, or reciting the office, for hours together. The cathedral could\nnot contain his audience. Seats were put up in an amphitheatre to\nincrease the space. Men and boys swarmed on the pillars and every point\nwhere it was possible to obtain a position. Even the piazza was full.\n\nAll these remarkable manifestations were not without results. Florence\nbecame a changed city. Not only were churches assiduously attended,\nbut alms were freely given. Women laid aside their rich ornaments and\nexpensive jewels, and dressed with simplicity. Light and careless\ncarriage or demeanor was rare. Habits of prayer and spiritual reading\nin the houses of the Florentines became the rule rather than the\nexception. The obscene carnival songs of the Medicean period were no\nlonger heard in the streets, but, in their place, lauds or hymns.\nAt the hour of mid-day rest, the artisan or tradesman might be seen\nreading the Bible or some pamphlet by Savonarola, and young men of\nnoted licentious or frivolous habits became models of good conduct.\nFast days were observed with such rigor that, in justice to the\nbutchers, the tax on their calling was lowered. Men and women of\ndisedifying or tepid life became religious\u2014among them men of mature\nage, distinguished in letters, science, and public affairs. Such young\nmen as the Strozzi, the Salviati, the Gondi, and the Accaiuoli joined\nthe friars of S. Mark and other religious orders. Restitution of\nill-gotten gains or property was common. But the most wonderful thing\nof all, says a historian, was to find bankers and merchants refunding,\nfrom scruples of conscience, sums of money, amounting sometimes to\nthousands of florins, which they had unrighteously acquired.\n\n\nPROPHESIES HIS OWN DEATH.\n\nStill Savonarola pressed on in his work of conversion as though it had\njust begun. His followers had prepared themselves for a joyful tone\nof victory in his sermons by reason of his brilliant civic triumphs,\nand were ready to rend the air with their alleluias. But he, on the\ncontrary, seemed more serious, more sad, than ever, and, in his first\ndiscourse after the events we have just related, opened with an\nallegory full of sorrowful forebodings, and the prophecy of his own\nviolent death:\n\n \u201cA young man, leaving his father\u2019s house, went to fish in the sea;\n and the master of the vessel took him, while he was fishing, far into\n the deep sea, whence he could no longer discern the port; whereupon\n the youth began to lament aloud. O Florence! that sorrowful youth\n thus lamenting is before you in this pulpit. I left my father\u2019s house\n to find the harbor of religion, departing when I was twenty-three\n years old in pursuit only of liberty and a life of quiet\u2014two things\n I loved beyond all others. But then I looked upon the waters of this\n world, and began, by preaching, to gain some courage; and, finding\n pleasure therein, the Lord led me upon the sea, and has carried me far\n away into the great deep, where I now am, and can no longer descry\n the harbor. _Undique sunt angusti\u00e6-_-shoals are on every side. I\n see before me the threatening tribulations and tempests, the harbor\n of refuge left behind, the wind carrying me forward into the great\n deep. On my right, the elect calling upon me for help; on my left,\n demons and the wicked tormenting and raging. Over, above me, I see\n everlasting goodness, and hope encourages me thitherward; hell I see\n beneath me, which, from human frailty, I must dread, and into which,\n without the help of God, I must inevitably fall. O Lord, Lord! whither\n hast thou led me? That I might save some souls to thee, I am myself so\n placed that I can no more return to the quiet I left. Why hast thou\n created me to live among the contentions and discords of the earth?\n I once was free, and now I am the slave of every one. I see war and\n discord coming upon me from every side. But do you, O my friends! you\n the elect of God, have pity upon me. Give me flowers; for, as is said\n in the Canticle, _quia amore langueo_\u2014because I languish through\n love. Flowers are good works, and I wish for nothing more than that\n you should do that which is acceptable to God, and save your own\n souls.\u201d\n\nHere his agitation was so great that he was obliged to pause, saying:\n\u201cNow let me have some rest in this tempest.\u201d Then resuming his\ndiscourse:\n\n \u201cBut what, what, O Lord! will be the reward in the life to come to be\n given to those who have come victorious out of such a fight? It will\n be that which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard\u2014eternal beatitude. And\n what is to be the reward in the present life? The servant will not\n be greater than his master, is the answer of our Lord. Thou knowest\n that, after I had taught, I was crucified, and thus thou wilt suffer\n martyrdom. O Lord, Lord!\u201d he then exclaimed, with a loud voice that\n echoed throughout the church, \u201cgrant me this martyrdom, and let me\n die quickly for thy sake, as thou diedst for me. Already I see the\n axe sharpened. But the Lord says to me: Wait yet awhile, until that\n be finished which is to come to pass, and then thou shalt show that\n strength of mind which will be given unto thee.\u201d\n\n\nHIS VISIONS AND PROPHECIES.\n\nHe then resumed the explanation of a psalm at the verse _Laudate\nDominum quia bonus_, and declaimed in a burst of ecstatic excitement,\nwhich carried his hearers along with him, sobbing and weeping. It\nwas by passages like these, in which the magnetic attraction of the\nspeaker\u2019s features, voice, and gestures predominated, that his hearers\nwere most affected. And this readily explains the fact that, when\nwe read his sermons as reported by those present, it is difficult\nto invest the words with the tremendous effects they seem to have\nproduced. This state of ecstasy which seized him in the pulpit\nfrequently followed him to his solitary cell, where, for days and\nnights together, he would remain the sleepless victim of visions, until\nsleep happily released him. From his youthful days, he had made himself\nfamiliar with all that S. Thomas Aquinas says of angels and prophets\nand of their visions, and, in like manner, with all the dreams and\nvisions of the prophets and patriarchs as related in the Old Testament.\nAll these filled his mind, and at night reproduced themselves with\nthe vividness of original revelations. They increased upon him as\nhe read the Bible and the Fathers more assiduously, and he accepted\nthem as divine inspirations sent through the intervention of angels.\nIt is difficult to believe the extent to which a blind faith and\ndevotion to these visions had taken possession of all his faculties,\nwhen we look at the calm, decided, and practical manner in which he\ndisposed of important questions of a merely mundane character, such as\nadministration, finance, and civil government.\n\nSavonarola has left on record the fullest account of the workings and\ncondition of his own mind on the subject of his visions and prophecies,\nin two works\u2014_Dialogo della Verita Profetica_ (Dialogue on Prophetic\nTruth), and _Compendium Revelationum_.\n\n\nWAS SAVONAROLA A PROTESTANT?\n\nIn these works, Savonarola reveals himself without reserve on the\nimportant subject of the prophecies and visions, and lays bare his\ninmost heart. This is a part of his biography we would gladly treat at\nlength, for the reason that one of the accusations against him is that\nof insincerity, bad faith, and deception of the people by abusing their\ncredulity. We must, however, content ourselves with the remark that,\nalthough these works may afford some proof of an overheated imagination\nand an overexcited mind, they certainly afford none whatever of any\nthought or impulse of their author not perfectly sincere and loyal.\nHis two German Protestant biographers, Rudelbach and Meyer, to their\nhonor be it said, were the first to study these prophetic writings of\nSavonarola. Their views diverge but slightly, both seeking to show that\nhe was a Protestant\u2014a question now scarcely worth while discussing,\nnotwithstanding the impertinent assertion of the Luther monument at\nWorms. In this connection, we may here cite the opinion of a late\nwriter on Savonarola, a distinguished English Protestant:[165] \u201cSo that\nthe effort made by some of the German biographers, more especially\nMeyer, who artistically concocts a complete system of Protestant\ndogmatics from his works, appears to be injudicious; and we must come\nto the only reasonable conclusion: that, though he (Savonarola) is now\nclaimed both by Catholics and Protestants, he lived and died in that\nchurch in which he was reared, and which he would not have destroyed,\nbut purified.\u201d[166]\n\n\nPARTIES AND FACTIONS.\n\nWhen we speak of the respect and veneration entertained for Savonarola\nby the population of Florence, we must not for a moment suppose he\nwas any exception to the rule that the presence of a good man is a\nreproach to the depraved, or that Florence, like Athens, had not\nwithin her walls those who were tired of hearing a man called just.\nThe Medici had still a large body of adherents in the city\u2014men who,\nwhether they preferred or not an oligarchy to a republic, still\nregretted the offices or emoluments they had lost\u2014were themselves\nof the aristocracy, or sympathized with it. Then came many of the\namnestied, who, themselves pardoned, did not therefore forgive others.\nThen, too, those who felt themselves thwarted in their license or\nlicentiousness by the changed state of public morality. The dominant\nparty\u2014that of the Frate\u2014went by the name of the _Frateschi_. A\nsmaller party, composed of those who were not personally his adherents,\nbut were in favor of a republic, were called _Bianchi_ (white); another\nand larger party, made up of partisans of the Medici, most of them\namnestied, were called _Bigi_ (grays), and, while outwardly favorable\nto Savonarola, were his bitter and unrelenting enemies, in constant\ncorrespondence with Piero de\u2019 Medici, whose return was the object of\nall their devices and plots. The partisans of the oligarchy, so active\nin their endeavors to defeat the new government, and bent on getting\nthe power into their own hands, and establish a pretended republic\nunder aristocratic rule, were naturally opposed to both Savonarola and\nthe Medici. They had contemptuously bestowed the name of _Piagnoni_\n(Mourners) on the followers of Savonarola, and, from their known bitter\nhatred, were themselves called the _Arrabiati_ (rabid or infuriated).\nCarefully avoiding any opposition to the republic, they sought by\nevery means to cast discredit on Savonarola, to throw ridicule upon\nhis visions and prophecies, to create discontent with his reforms,\nand to foster a spirit of criticism and dislike against him. The\naccidental elevation to the office of Gonfaloniere of a man unfit for\nit\u2014Filippo Corbizzi\u2014was seized by them as an opportunity to attack\nSavonarola as early as 1495. At their instigation, he called together\nat the Palazzo a sort of theological council of theologians, abbots,\npriors, etc., before whom a charge of intermeddling in the affairs of\nstate was laid against Savonarola. The council was opened, and the\ndiscussion commenced, when, by the merest accident, Savonarola, in\nentire ignorance of what was taking place, entered the hall with his\nfriend Fra Domenico, of Pescia. He was instantly assailed with words\nof abuse and invective, and a Dominican monk of Santa Maria Novella,\nwho had some reputation as a theologian, made a violent speech against\nhim. Others followed the monk, and, when all were through, Savonarola,\ncalmly rising, said: \u201cIn me you see verified the saying of our Lord:\n_Filii matris me\u00e6 pugnaverunt contra me._[167] It truly grieves me to\nsee my fiercest adversary wearing the dress of S. Dominic. That very\ndress ought to remind him that our founder himself was in no small\ndegree occupied with the affairs of this world; and that from our order\nhave gone forth a multitude of religious men and saints to take part\nin the affairs of state. The Florentine republic cannot have forgotten\nCardinal Latino, San Pietro Martine, Santa Caterina of Sienna, nor\nSant\u2019 Antonino, all of whom belong to the Order of S. Dominic. A\nreligious man is not to be condemned for occupying himself with the\nconcerns of that world in which God has placed him. I defy any one to\npoint out a single passage in the Bible condemnatory of our showing\nfavor to a free government which is to promote the triumph of morality\nand religion.\u201d And he thus concluded: \u201cIt is easy to see that religion\nought not to be treated in profane places, and that theology is not a\nfit subject for discussion in this place.\u201d\n\nThere was no attempt at reply, except from one, who cried out: \u201cTell us\nnow frankly, Do you aver that your words come from God, or do you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat which I have said I have said openly; and I have nothing to add,\u201d\nwas Savonarola\u2019s reply.\n\n\n\n\nSONNET\n\nTO THE PILLAR THAT STANDS BESIDE THE HIGH ALTAR AT \u201cS. PAUL\u2019S OUTSIDE\nTHE WALLS,\u201d ROME.[168]\n\nBY AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n\n  A conqueror called thee from the eternal night,\n  And said, \u201cAscend from thy dark mother\u2019s breast;\n  Sustain my glory on thy sunlike crest,\n  And by mine altar watch\u2014an acolyte.\u201d\n  A poet, wandering from Helvellyn\u2019s height,\n  Beheld thee dead ere born. That Alpine guest\n  Adjured thee, \u201cWhere thou liest, forever rest,\n  And freeze those hearts that trust in mortal might.\u201d\n  The years went by; then, clear above that cloud\n  Which blinds the nations, from her Roman throne\n  Thus spake the universal church aloud:\n  \u201cArise at last, thou long-expectant stone!\n  For God predestined, consummate thy vow:\n  Advance; and where the Apostle stood stand thou!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\nALBERT\u2019S VISIT.\n\nFANNY, after despatching her letter, was filled with an uneasiness that\nwas continually increasing. \u201cWill he get here in season?\u201d she asked\nherself. \u201cPerhaps mademoiselle will have come to a decision before\nAlbert arrives.\u201d\n\nBut however partial Fanny might be to her prot\u00e9g\u00e9, she could not help\nseeing that Louis possessed rare qualities. If her interests had not\nbeen at stake, she would have confessed at once that he alone was\nworthy of Mlle. Smithson; but her selfishness kept her wilfully blind.\n\nAlas! day after day passed away without result. The wonderful letter\nFanny depended so much on produced no effect. Twenty times a day she\nwent from despair into anger.\n\n\u201cSuch a fine dowry!\u201d she would exclaim. \u201cSuch a pretty girl! And he\nallowing them to slip through his fingers\u2014to fall into the hands\nof another\u2014and what other!... A spendthrift who will squander her\nproperty\u2014a libertine who will neglect his wife!... Ah! she might be\nso happy with him, and he with her! And I should be so sure of an easy\nlife in their house! What is he doing?... Is he absorbed in trifles,\nand going to lose such an opportunity? I was right: he is light-headed.\nBut his mother, Mme. Fr\u00e9min, has sense enough, I am sure, and has\nlonged for this match these ten years: is she asleep too? Or has she\nchanged her mind?...\u201d\n\nWhen the day of the dinner came, of which I have just spoken, Fanny\u2019s\ndistress was unbounded. \u201cThe enemy is constantly gaining ground,\u201d she\nmuttered to herself. \u201cEvery day Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie becomes less indifferent\ntowards him. Perhaps they will come to an understanding to-night, and\nvow to love each other. We are lost! Albert is positively a simpleton!\u201d\n\nWhen Eug\u00e9nie retired to her chamber, Fanny, quivering with excitement,\nwas there to eye her narrowly, hoping to read the depths of her soul.\nShe saw her mistress was more thoughtful than usual, and began by\nartfully praising Louis. Eug\u00e9nie seemed to listen with pleasure. All\nthis caused the wily servant a sleepless night.... When daylight\nappeared, Fanny had decided on her course. This _soubrette_ was a\nlong-headed woman!\n\n\u201cIf I had to choose a husband for Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie,\u201d she said to herself,\n\u201cI certainly should not select M. Louis. Mademoiselle would be far\nhappier with Albert. As to him, he will never find another equal to\nher. But I cannot force them to be happy. It is their own affair. Mine\nis to look out for my own interests.... What do I want?... To secure\na pleasant home for the rest of my life. Perhaps this new suitor\nwould give me one.... Is he really as much of a spendthrift, and as\noverbearing, as I feared at first? I have seen him only a few times,\nbut I know him well enough to see I may have been greatly deceived,\nand that there is much more in him than I supposed.... Well, that is\nsettled: if Albert is not here in season, if I see the other one is\nlikely to win the day, I shall take sides with him.... But I will make\none more sacrifice for the ungrateful fellow whom I have loved so much!\nI will write his mother again, and wait a few days longer....\u201d\n\nShe wrote, and did not have long to wait. Albert arrived the next\nday but one. When he appeared, Fanny almost sank to the ground with\nastonishment and joy: with joy, because she loved him as spinsters\nalways love when they love at all\u2014with as much strength as\nselfishness; with astonishment, for she hardly recognized him. She\nhad not seen him for a year and a half. He was then in the third year\nof his law studies\u2014a young man of sprightly, jovial air, faultless\nin dress, and fluent of speech, though he only talked of trifles....\n_Quantum mutatus!_ ... He now had a grave air, his dress was plain\neven to severity, and there was a solemnity in his manner of speaking\nthat confounded Fanny, but which pleased her. What had wrought such a\nchange? She was dying to know, but had to wait to be enlightened on the\npoint till she could see him in private. This could not take place at\nonce. He must renew his acquaintance with his uncle, aunt, and cousin.\n\nAlbert\u2019s sudden arrival caused some surprise, but not very much,\nhowever, for he had promised several months before to come about this\ntime. Mr. Smithson received him with his usual quiet, somewhat cool\nregard. He looked upon his nephew as frivolous, and for such people\nhe had no liking. But Mme. Smithson gave her dear Albert a very\ndifferent reception. She loved him for his own sake, and especially\nfor his mother\u2019s, whom she regarded with affection and pity. She was\nquite well aware that her sister\u2019s income was very limited, and to see\nAlbert marry her daughter would by no means have been repugnant to\nher. Eug\u00e9nie also received her cousin with the pleasure and cordiality\nnatural to a relative meeting the friend of her childhood.\n\nIn the course of two hours, he was made to feel quite at home, at\nliberty to go where he pleased, and to do what he liked. All the family\nhad some employment, Eug\u00e9nie as well as her parents. Albert at once\nprofited by this liberty to _prendre langue_, as the saying is\u2014to get\nthe news from Fanny. For had she not induced him to come here, and\nmade him aware of her projects?... He found her in a small building\nnot far from the house. It was on the banks of the river, which was\nmore charming here than in any other part. Its peaceful current glided\nbetween high banks where grew on either hand a row of willows whose\npendant branches swept the very waters. Everything was delightfully\nquiet and romantic. It was Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s favorite retreat, where she often\ncame in the morning to read, or to muse as the day declined. But Albert\ngave no heed to the beauties of nature around him.\n\n\u201cAt last we can have a talk, my good Fanny,\u201d said he: \u201ctalk of our\nmutual plans, eh! eh!\u2014for it seems you, too, wish me to marry Eug\u00e9nie.\nOur plans are in danger, if I am to believe your two letters: it\nis possible I may be set aside! That would be a pity! My cousin is\nhandsomer than ever.... But to tell the truth, her style of beauty is\nnot exactly to my taste: she is too dignified. But ...\u201d\n\n\u201cToo dignified!... Mademoiselle is enchanting; and then, there is her\nfortune, which it is no harm to consider.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy uncle\u2019s losses have made a hole in it, however.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut they are being repaired every day by his industry. You would not\nbelieve how profitable this mill is. Come, tell me plainly, will you\never find a wife as rich?\u2014with even half as much as she will have?...\u201d\n\n\u201c_Ma foi!_ no.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the money you would never find again you have come near letting\nslip into another\u2019s hands!... There is some danger of it still.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou alarm me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is just so. Why were you so long in coming?\u201d\n\n\u201cBecause ... _Tiens_, my dear, I was just going to tell you a fib,\nbut it would do no good. I may as well show my hand.... I came very\nreluctantly, because I prefer my bachelor life. It would suit me better\nto wait a while. Would it be dangerous to ask a delay of two or four\nyears?\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! it is not enough to furnish you with a handsome wife and a fine\nfortune! One must wait till you are disposed to accept them! Where are\nyour wits?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, do not get angry. I see I must marry her at once. I will do as\nyou say. Here, I am all ready to listen to your advice, for you must\ntell me what I am to do.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou give in? You may as well! Come, own that you gave me a false\nimpression. And I was so pleased! Your grave air and plain dress made\nme hope you were converted\u2014I see I was mistaken, and am sorry for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cA fine farce. And so I even took you in! But did you not tell me to\ncome here like a man seriously disposed? If I succeeded in deceiving\nyou, the disguise must be perfect. The rest are more easily taken in\nthan you!... But that is not the point. You look quite frightened. What\nare you afraid of?\u201d\n\n\u201cEverything, and principally lest you make Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie unhappy.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe shall be mistress: that is what she likes\u2014what else?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhen you are married, you will no longer have any need of me, and will\nsend me away.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend you away! I am ready to swear.... Here, I will give you my\npromise in writing: you shall never leave my house. Fanny, do you\nthink me capable of such ingratitude? I am frivolous, but I have some\nheart, you well know, you old grumbler.... Well, how do affairs really\nstand?... Does not your affection for me incline you to take too gloomy\na view of things?... My enemy\u2014my rival, if I rightly understand your\nletters\u2014is a fellow who ruined himself, and came here to win the\nbeautiful Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s heart and fortune; he is very sedate in appearance,\nand artful in reality. But it is not enough to be ruined, and long for\na fortune\u2014the thing is to get it. The first condition is to please the\nlady. Is he a handsome fellow?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; but he has a sensible, refined face calculated to strike the fancy\nof a young lady like your cousin.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas he much wit?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe talks little, but well.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is religious, I think you said?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; he has founded a library and a school for the benefit of\nthe workmen, and he visits the poor. All this affords him many\nopportunities of meeting Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie. She gives him books for his\nlibrary, paper and pens for his school, and they agree upon the\nfamilies to visit.\u201d\n\n\u201cHa! he is a knowing fellow. He thinks that a good way to please my\ncousin and to see her. Then Eug\u00e9nie is more religious than she used to\nbe?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt seems so, but you know it is not easy to tell what is going on in\nmademoiselle\u2019s heart.\u201d\n\n\u201cFanny, you have rendered me a service I shall never forget. It was\ntime to come\u2014high time. I am even afraid I am too late. Have you\ndetected anything to make you think her in love with him already?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe began by regarding him with aversion. This softened into\nindifference. What further change there is I do not know.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat caused her aversion?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe thought he came here to catch her.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe deuce!\u201d\n\n\u201cHis piety seemed to her mere artifice.\u201d\n\n\u201cEvidently!... Is any one ever converted without a motive?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are a wicked creature, Albert. Louis may be a hypocrite, but all\nreligious people are not hypocrites. I even begin to think he is not.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, go on!... Well, I see Eug\u00e9nie regards him as a saint. She\nadmires him, if nothing more. The danger is imminent.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat are you going to do? Nothing wrong, I hope.\u201d\n\n\u201cBe easy on that score. I am going to keep an eye on that man, and\nstudy him. If he is sincere, I will make him ridiculous; if he is\nfalse, I will unmask him. Of course, I shall also employ other means.\nIf Eug\u00e9nie is not yet in love with him, I shall be the foremost to win\nher heart. If she is attached to him, I shall do my utmost to appear\nmore worthy of her regard, and to rout him. It is unnecessary to say I\nshall persist in my _r\u00f4le_ as a person of gravity. Eug\u00e9nie is absurdly\nromantic. I must endeavor to appear more saintly than this new apostle.\nNo one will suspect the farce. It is an age since I was here, and\nit would not be astonishing if I also had been converted during the\ninterval.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t go too far!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may rely on that. There is only one thing I am anxious about. Have\nI not some invisible obstacle to contend against?... Eug\u00e9nie has a will\nof her own. If she has already made up her mind, if her heart is set on\nhim, all my attempts would be of no avail.\u201d\n\n\u201cThings have not come to that pass yet, I have every reason to believe.\nI know where and when she has seen him, and what he has said to her.\nShe only regards him with esteem, you may be sure.\u201d\n\nAfter deciding on his plans, Albert had but one wish\u2014to put them\nat once in execution. That very evening at dinner he directed the\nconversation to Louis. Mme. Smithson heartily praised the engineer. Mr.\nSmithson neither praised nor spoke disparagingly of him. He kept his\nsuspicions with regard to Louis to himself. He was not in the habit of\ndoing anything hastily, but had fully made up his mind to dismiss him\nif he found him as thorough a Catholic as he had reason to believe;\nthat is, an overzealous one, secretly contriving with the _cur\u00e9_ all\nsorts of dark plots, the idea of which alarmed him.\n\nEug\u00e9nie, in a perfectly natural manner, confirmed all her mother had\nsaid, spoke of the good works he had undertaken, and finally mentioned\nthe part she had had in them.\n\n\u201cI also should be delighted to participate in all these laudable\nundertakings,\u201d said Albert. \u201cI must tell you, dear cousin, that I am\nbeginning to be reasonable. I take an interest in studying the great\nsocial problems, especially the extinction of pauperism, and the moral\nimprovement of the lower classes.\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson gave Albert an incredulous look, and Eug\u00e9nie broke out\ninto unrestrained laughter.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Albert, intimidated and cut to the quick, \u201cyou shall see\nif what I tell you is not true! To-morrow I will visit this wonderful\nschool, and offer my services to the person who has charge of it. I\nrather think they will not be refused.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh!\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, \u201chow amusing it will be to see you drilling under\nM. Louis\u2019 orders!... You will soon have enough of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou think me fickle, then?\u201d\n\n\u201cRather so.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mistaken. I always like the same things, and especially the\nsame people, my dear cousin.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow gallant you have become,\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, laughing again. \u201cBut\nwhat has come over us! We used to say _thou_ to each other; now we\nsay _you_. Once we kept up a succession of compliments anything but\nflattering to each other, and here you are now gracious, amiable, and\ncomplimentary beyond description! It is a pity I can make no return....\nBut it is all in vain, my dear Albert; neither your white cravat nor\nyour subdued air can deceive me. My aunt wrote me not long ago that you\nwere just the same. Do you hear?\u2014your own mother said there was no\nchange in you.\u201d\n\nThis unvarnished statement had really been made in one of Mme. Fr\u00e9min\u2019s\nletters. She little thought of injuring her son by showing him in so\ntrue a light.\n\n\u201cMy mother was mistaken,\u201d said Albert, exceedingly vexed at such\nannoying remarks; \u201cor rather, you have given a wrong interpretation to\nher words. I am indeed the same in a certain sense. When there is cause\nfor laughter, I am ready to laugh. But though it is proper to laugh at\nsuitable times, I feel that excessive and constant gaiety is unworthy\nof a man who aspires to a high place in the estimation of others.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! to think of your sermonizing, my dear cousin,\u201d cried Eug\u00e9nie,\nlooking at him with a mocking air. \u201cBut now I begin to understand\nyour behavior.... Yes; that is it.... You have an eye to the bench.\nYou consider gravity as part of a judge\u2019s outfit. You are right, but\nbetween ourselves, as no one hears you, confess that the mask is\nanything but comfortable.\u201d\n\nAlbert was vexed and uneasy. His attempts were in vain: he could not\npersuade Eug\u00e9nie he was really what he wished to appear. His sagacious\ncousin continued to banter him with a wit he found it difficult to ward\noff.\n\nEug\u00e9nie had no special design in her bantering, but her very simplicity\nand wit disarmed Albert, and thwarted his plans. How far this was from\nthe _belle passion_ he hoped to inspire! Eug\u00e9nie treated him merely\nlike a cousin, almost like a boy. He resolved to let her see he was a\nman\u2014a thoughtful and even religious man. \u201cTo-morrow,\u201d thought he, \u201cI\nwill go and beard the lion in his den. I will watch him narrowly; I\nwill become his friend in order to thwart him. When I have convinced my\nuncle and aunt there are others quite as rational as this gentleman,\nwithout being fanatics like him\u2014for he is one, according to Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s\nown account\u2014when I have won the admiration of my romantic cousin, then\nwe will think of wooing. But we must begin by driving this Jesuit away.\nReally, the comedy begins to interest me. A fine fortune and a pretty\nwife are at stake. Moreover, there is this dismal creature to cover\nwith confusion. If I do not come off conqueror, it will be because the\nfates are strangely against me.\u201d\n\nSuch were Albert\u2019s thoughts after retiring to his chamber. Then he\nbetook himself to a novel. He was delighted to find himself so shrewd,\nand had no doubt of his success.\n\nAt that same hour, Louis was also awake, but absorbed in prayer. Piety\ndaily increased in his steadfast soul: so did love in his heart.\nAlbert\u2019s arrival, which he was at once informed of, produced a painful\nimpression. \u201cMr. Smithson distrusts me,\u201d he said to himself; \u201cEug\u00e9nie\ndoes not yet love me: it will be easy for this young man to win the\nplace I covet in her heart.\u201d He dwelt on these sad thoughts for some\ntime, but soon had recourse to his usual source of consolation, and\nconfided all his cares to God. The prayer he uttered might be summed\nup in these few words, so full of Christian heroism: \u201cO my God! if it\nis in his power to render her happier than I could, I pray thee to\nbestow her on him, and let me find my only consolation in thee!...\u201d The\ntrue Christian alone can so purify his affections as to render them\ndisinterested. When Louis fell asleep, he felt a storm was brewing in\nthe air, but calmness was in his heart. Resignation, trust in God, and\nthe purity of his love had restored serenity to his soul.\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\nA VILLAIN.\n\nAlbert called at Louis\u2019 office about ten o\u2019clock the next morning. This\noffice was in the centre of the manufactory, between two large rooms\nalways filled with workmen. Here Louis was confined ten long hours a\nday. If he went out from time to time, it was first to one place, and\nthen to another, to keep an eye on everything, and remedy any slight\naccident that might have occurred. He everywhere replaced Mr. Smithson.\nHe saw to everything, and gave orders about everything, and acquitted\nhimself of these duties with an ability and zeal that his employer\ncould not help acknowledging. He could not have wished for an assistant\nmore capable, more energetic, or more reliable. Had it not been for\none suspicion in this cold Protestant\u2019s breast, one cause of antipathy\nagainst this overzealous Catholic, Mr. Smithson would not only have\nesteemed Louis, but would have taken him to his heart. As it was, he\ncontented himself with merely esteeming him, and this against his will.\n\nThe workmen were divided into two parties with respect to Louis. The\ngood, who were the least numerous\u2014alas! it is so everywhere: the\nmajority are on the wrong side\u2014were absolutely devoted to him. The bad\nfeared him. They knew he was inflexible when there was any question\nof their morals or the rules of the establishment. Louis would not\ntolerate drunkenness, or blasphemy, or any improper talk. The fear he\nexcited among the bad made him extremely hated by a few.\n\nWhen Albert entered the engineer\u2019s office, the latter went forward to\nmeet him with the ease of a man of the world receiving a visit, and\nwith the reserve of a diplomatist who finds himself in the presence\nof an adversary. From the very moment these two men first saw each\nother, they felt they were opponents. Each one had a position to defend\nwhich the other sought for, and both were conscious of it. Before the\nParisian uttered a word, Louis divined what was passing in his heart.\n\u201cHe has come to drive me away and marry his cousin,\u201d thought he. \u201cIf\nProvidence favors his plans, I shall submit. But it was God who brought\nme hither. I do not think I am mistaken in believing he has given me a\nwork to do here, and I shall not leave till I clearly see I ought to\ngive it up and go away.\u201d\n\nAlbert had to introduce himself. \u201cI am Mr. Smithson\u2019s nephew,\u201d said\nhe, \u201ca licentiate of the law, and an advocate at the Paris bar. My\nrelatives have for a long time urged me to visit them, and I have\nprofited by an interval of leisure to accept their invitation. I am\naware, monsieur, of the important _r\u00f4le_ you fill in the house, and\nwhat a useful man you are, and am desirous of making your acquaintance.\nBesides, I have need of your services.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I can be of any service whatever to you, monsieur, I assure you it\nwill give me great pleasure to serve you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy charming cousin Eug\u00e9nie tells me, monsieur, that you are engaged\nin things I am likewise interested in\u2014the relief of the poor and the\ninstruction of the ignorant around you. Eug\u00e9nie has even given me to\nunderstand that she is your assistant in this work.\u201d\n\nAlbert kept his eyes fastened on Louis\u2019 face as he uttered these words.\nHe thought he would betray his feelings at such a greeting\u2014at the mere\nname of Eug\u00e9nie. But Louis\u2019 countenance remained impenetrable as usual.\nAlbert felt he had before him either a very indifferent or a very\nshrewd man.\n\n\u201cI am glad to learn, monsieur,\u201d replied Louis, \u201cthat you take an\ninterest, as well as I, in these Christian labors, which in these times\nare more necessary than ever. Poverty and immorality are making great\nravages. But I should remark that I am a mere novice in such matters.\nAs Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie has been so kind as to speak of me, she may have told\nyou how little I have yet accomplished. And what I have done has only\nbeen through Mr. Smithson\u2019s constant aid. You wish, monsieur, to be\ninitiated into my undertakings. That will be very easy! I will show you\nour library, scarcely established, and our evening-school: that is all.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must also introduce me to your poor. I am seriously disposed\nto make a practical study of the great questions of charity and\ninstruction. They are quite the order of the day. When can I meet\nyou?...\u201d\n\n\u201cThis evening, if you like; the school begins at seven o\u2019clock.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what do you do at this school?\u201d\n\n\u201cI teach reading and writing to those who are ignorant of them,\northography to some, and ciphering to others. I end by reading\nsomething carefully selected, with occasional remarks easy to\ncomprehend and to retain. This affords me a daily opportunity of giving\nmy audience useful advice.\u201d\n\nAlbert made a slight grimace. This manner of procedure did not suit\nhim. He wished for exercises that afforded a more promising field for\nsatisfying his vanity. It was well to propose being useful! He wished\nto shine.\n\nThey continued to converse a while longer. Louis, with the shrewdness\nthat characterized him, led the conversation to the most serious\nsubjects. Albert replied without suspecting the scrutiny he was\nundergoing. Faithful to his _r\u00f4le_, he affected to judge matters with\nthe seriousness of a man armed with unfaltering convictions. But this\nseriousness did not blind Louis. Without appearing to observe it, he\ncaught him a dozen times in criminal ignorance, and, what was worse,\nthis ignorance was accompanied with a conceit that was ridiculous. At\nlength the two young men separated. They had formed an opinion of each\nother at the first glance. Louis had seen through Albert\u2019s mask, and\nfound him a man of no depth, poorly aping a person of gravity. Albert\nfelt he had a sagacious person to deal with. If Louis was his rival, he\nwas a formidable one.\n\nIt may be supposed that, loving Eug\u00e9nie to such a degree, Louis felt,\nas an impartial observer would have done in his place, that it would\nbe sad to see a woman of so much worth united to a superficial man.\nHe could not help feeling that he himself was more worthy of Eug\u00e9nie\nthan Albert; that he was more capable of making her happy. He was not\nmistaken; he had a right to think so.\n\nA few days after this first interview, I sent Louis word that Victor\nwas very much worse. His disease had made alarming progress. Victor had\nhitherto struggled courageously against it, but, the evening before,\nhe took me by the hand, and, fixing his large melancholy eyes on mine,\nsaid:\n\n\u201cMy dear, my beloved wife, I have kept up till now, and continued to\nwork as usual. But the hour has come for me to lay aside all earthly\nthoughts and cares.... It is time to collect my thoughts.... Death is\napproaching ...\u201d\n\nAt these words, I began to weep and sob. He waited till this natural\nexplosion of grief was over.\n\n\u201cI can realize your distress, my good Agnes,\u201d said he. \u201cI, too, feel\nhow painful it is to leave you. But we are both Christians. Our\nreligion is a source of never-failing consolation.... See how good God\nhas been to us! I might have died months ago: God has left me with you\ntill now. He has given me time to prepare to enter his presence. And\nI truly believe that, by the help of his grace, I have made a good\nuse of these last days. I have found and trained a man to succeed me\nin the journal. He will defend the good cause as well as I; perhaps\nbetter. I have saved the life of a young man who is and always will be\na consistent Christian such as we need more of. I shall, I hope, have\na share in all the good Louis will accomplish; and he will do a great\ndeal.... Of course, my dear Agnes, it is hard to separate from you,\nbut we shall meet again on high. The longest life is but brief. How\nhappy we shall be to meet again far from this wretched world, which I\nshould not regret were it not for leaving you. [P2 added period missing\nin orig] Every day it gives less room to God: the impious and the\nhypocritical are fearfully multiplying. This is a sad age! If the very\nthought of leaving those we love were not so painful to the heart, ah!\nhow sweet it would be to soar away from so much wickedness to the pure\nradiance of heaven. Why cannot I carry you with me, my poor darling?\nOh! how glad I should then be to go.... But, no; it is not the will\nof God. He wishes me to precede you, alone. So be it. When in yonder\nworld, I shall pray for you!... And now, let us give up all worldly\nthings to those who have a longer time to live. As for me, I must cease\nto labor, and henceforth think of nothing but God and my salvation....\u201d\n\nThe following morning, I sent Louis word of what had taken place. He\nhastened to see us that afternoon. When he saw our dear Victor, he\nwas exceedingly affected. My husband had changed every way within a\nfortnight, without my being conscious of it, having been constantly\nwith him.\n\n\u201cOh! how glad I am to see you!\u201d said he to Louis. \u201cWell, well, we shall\nnot meet many times more, ... here below, I mean, but we shall meet\nagain in heaven never more to separate.\u201d\n\nLouis burst into tears.\n\n\u201cYou great child!\u201d continued he. \u201cIf it were not for my sweet Agnes\nthere, I would beg you to congratulate me: I am going home to God! But\nthe idea of leaving that dear soul, who has made me so happy, hangs\nlike a cloud between me and heaven. Oh! you will, you will watch over\nher as I would myself, will you not?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; as your very self, I solemnly promise you,\u201d cried Louis. Then,\nfalling on his knees beside the bed, he said: \u201cMy friend, assure me\nonce more that you forgive me. It is I who have killed you!\u201d\n\nVictor drew him towards him, and embraced him. Louis then begged my\nforgiveness also. I could not answer him, but I held out my hand, which\nhe respectfully kissed.\n\n\u201cOne favor more,\u201d said Louis: \u201cI hope you will not leave us so soon as\nyou suppose, but it is better to make the request now, as I can do it\nto-day without troubling you: give me your blessing!\u201d\n\nVictor excused himself, but Louis insisted so long that he yielded.\nVictor then extended his hand over his friend\u2019s head: \u201cO my God!\u201d said\nhe, \u201cI am only a sinner, with no right to bless in thy name; but I have\ngiven my heart to thee, and I also love this soul to whom thou has\npermitted me to do some good. Watch over him!... Make him happy here\nbelow, or, if it is thy will he should suffer, grant him the necessary\ncourage to find joy in sorrow itself.\u201d\n\nThis scene was deeply affecting. For some time we remained silent.\nVictor, unwilling to leave us so painfully impressed, began to smile\nand say the liveliest things he could imagine. Addressing Louis, he\nsaid:\n\n\u201cHow are your love affairs? You cannot imagine how I long for your\nunion with a woman so calculated to make you happy. The more I think of\nit, the more I am convinced that Mlle. Smithson is the very person.\u201d\n\nLouis replied with a sigh. He related what had taken place at the great\ndinner, and the wrong impression Mr. Smithson had derived from the\n_cur\u00e9\u2019s_ imprudence. He also told us of Albert\u2019s arrival, and gave a\nbrief account of their interview.\n\n\u201cThis man\u2019s unexpected appearance has caused me sincere pain,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cIt has excited a thousand fears only too well grounded. Is it\nbecause I think him capable of destroying my most cherished hopes?...\nNo; not if it depends merely on him. His meaningless face, his affected\nand pretentious manners, and his vacant mind, are not calculated to\nfascinate Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie. Her nature is entirely different from his. His\ndefects must shock her. But the man, from what I am told, has the luck\nof being in his aunt\u2019s good graces. Who knows but Mme. Smithson herself\ninduced him to come, with the positive intention of giving him her\ndaughter\u2019s hand in marriage?...\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is possible,\u201d said Victor, \u201cbut you have one good cause for hope in\nspite of everything. You acknowledge yourself that such a man cannot\nplease Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie. Now, she is a woman with a mind of her own, and\nher parents are very indulgent to her. These two reasons induce me to\nbelieve she will never marry him.\u201d\n\n\u201cShe is different from most women,\u201d replied Louis. \u201cHer filial\ndevotion may lead her to accept the husband her parents propose....\nAh! if she loved me, I should not be alarmed on that score. For an\ninstant, I thought she did; but the longer I study things calmly, the\nmore inclined I am to believe I was lulled by a sweet illusion.... She\ndoes not love me yet. It is possible she might, had things remained as\nthey were. Everything will take a new turn now. This young relative\u2019s\narrival will absorb her attention, and how do I know but she will even\nend by taking him for what he pretends to be\u2014a grave, thoughtful man?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have no fears on that point,\u201d said Victor. \u201cIf this intruder is\nthe superficial person you suppose\u2014and he is, I believe\u2014he will not\ndeceive a person so observing as Mlle. Smithson.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is her cousin.... Every one in the house treats him with great\naffection.... Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie is young and without experience, ... and\nthe man in question does not lack a certain ability.... He has already\nannoyed me in more than one way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it possible! How?\u201d\n\n\u201cI told you that at our first interview he immediately expressed a wish\nto aid me in the work I had undertaken. I promised to introduce him to\nmy school that evening. He was so urgent that he excited my suspicions\nat once. My fears were only too well founded, as you will see. I had\nscarcely been a quarter of an hour in the schoolroom, before he came in\nwith Mr. Smithson. I am anxious not to exaggerate anything; above all,\nI do not wish to calumniate him. It is, therefore, with all sincerity\nI tell you that this designing man, at his first visit, so arranged\neverything as to take the precedence of me before my scholars. With\nhis arm passed familiarly through his uncle\u2019s, he entered with a mere\nsalutation of condescending patronage. Then, after going to the door\nwith Mr. Smithson, who had business elsewhere, he remained as if to\nsuperintend and direct me, as the master of the house might have done,\nhad he wished to assert his rights. I repeat it: this fellow only came\nthere to make the workmen feel that he was, even in my night-school, if\nnot the master, at least his representative, and I the humble agent.\nIn fact, without consulting me, he began to give advice to one and\nanother, making a great deal of noise, and meddling with everything, so\nthat, thanks to him, nothing was done. He disturbed everybody, and was\nof no assistance.\n\n\u201cOf course, the idle and talkative, as well as those disposed to\nflattery, took to the new-comer. As to me, I frankly confess he had a\nsingular effect on my nerves. However, I restrained myself, and said\nnothing to him that evening. The next morning, he called on me, and\nannounced his intention of beginning a series of lessons on political\neconomy. As you know, I am in the habit of reading aloud every evening\nfrom some good book\u2014a historical incident, an anecdote, or a moral\nextract calculated to interest the workmen. To this I join some\nfamiliar explanations and reflections of a moral and even religious\nnature. This exercise, as simple as it is beneficial in its results,\nwas not to his liking. He wished to replace it advantageously, as he\nsaid, by instructions apparently learned, but in reality useless and\neven pernicious. Nothing is worse than to waste great words on people\nabsolutely destitute of elementary knowledge. But the very ignorance\nof his audience attracted Albert. He thought he should dazzle them\nwithout much effort, and without running the risk of their finding out\nhow little he really knows. I listened very coldly to his proposal.\nWhen he left, he gave me a slight glance of spitefulness which was\nominous of evil.\n\n\u201cThat night the young man did not appear in the schoolroom, but the\nfollowing evening he presented himself. This time he made so much\nconfusion that I could not conceal my annoyance. He perceived it, and\nleft the room. I regretted not having, perhaps, restrained my feelings\nsufficiently. I followed him into the next room. He received me with\ninsolent haughtiness, and took my explanations unkindly. When I had\nfinished, he thus addressed me:\n\n\u201c\u2018Monsieur, there are some who do good out of love of being useful: to\nsuch I belong. There are others who do it from motives of self-love and\ninterest: you may know of some.... You have instituted this school; you\ndirect it in your own way; you wish to be the sole master. What your\nreason is for all this I do not know, but I can certify one thing: you\nwish to have your workmen to yourself. It is not my practice to intrude\nanywhere, even when I have a perfect right. Consequently I withdraw.\u2019\n\n\u201cI stopped him to ask what motive of interest I could have.\n\n\u201c\u2018O monsieur!\u2019 said he, \u2018the name of a philanthropist is not to be\ndespised. It leads to many things. You know better than I what use you\nwish to make of it; it is not for me to tell you. It remains to be seen\nif you succeed.\u2019\n\n\u201cHe evidently wished to insinuate that I had taken this indirect way\nof gaining the esteem of the Smithson family, and perhaps Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s\naffections. I felt my anger rise. I was about to reply in a way I\nshould have regretted, but he prevented it by going out without giving\nme an opportunity.\n\n\u201cAt first, I congratulated myself on my victory. I am ashamed to say\nthat my pride, which I thought I had conquered, again reappeared\nin my heart. \u2018He is afraid of me!\u2019 I said to myself. \u2018He feels my\nsuperiority, and has gone away through mortification.\u2019 Subsequent\nreflection convinced me of my mistake. Albert, in withdrawing, was not\nvanquished, but really the conqueror. He had successfully achieved\nhis perfidious design. He was tired of the school, and felt he should\nsoon cut a sorry figure in it. He sought the means of getting out of\nit, which I unwittingly furnished him, so that his very retreat could\nbe used as a plea against me. All my subsequent observations have\nconfirmed my suspicions. I have not met him since, but I can see he has\nbeen secretly plotting against me. Mr. Smithson is colder than ever\ntowards me. As to Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie, I have met her only once, walking\nwith Albert. She saw me, and might have spoken, but pretended not to\nobserve me.... Ah! my dear friend, I am, I confess, down-hearted.\nFor days, I have seen that my course and my principles excite Mr.\nSmithson\u2019s suspicions, but I had some reason to believe I was no longer\nindifferent to his daughter. Now she herself has turned, or rather,\nhas been turned, against me. In a month, she will no longer be able to\nendure me.... What shall I do?\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep straight on: continue the work you have begun. If an opportunity\noccurs for explanation either with the father or daughter, convince\nthem that you are an honest man.\u201d\n\nOur poor friend was very gloomy when he left us. We participated in\nhis sadness, for we did not doubt but this cousin, who had come so\ninopportunely, was slyly doing him some ill-turn. We were not wrong in\nthinking so. I will relate what had taken place.\n\nAs Louis rightly conjectured, Albert had willingly allowed himself to\nbe excluded from the school. He immediately presented himself in the\n_salon_ with an air of discouragement, but triumphing in the bottom of\nhis heart.\n\n\u201cYou have returned early this evening,\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie. \u201cAre you tired of\nthe school already?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not tired of it, but they can no longer endure me there.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave you made yourself insupportable?\u201d asked Eug\u00e9nie. She really did\nnot love her cousin, and under the appearance of teasing him, as is\nthe way with young people, she told him some pretty plain truths as\noften as she could. Mr. Smithson was reading a newspaper. Hearing what\nEug\u00e9nie and Albert said, he looked up, and said to his nephew, in his\nusual grave tone:\n\n\u201cWhat has happened?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have been dismissed from the school.\u201d\n\n\u201cImpossible!\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie.\n\nAlbert was astonished at the persistency with which his cousin defended\nLouis. He felt his hatred redouble against the engineer.\n\n\u201cYou may well think it impossible,\u201d said he, in an insinuating tone....\n\u201cReally, if this gentleman has a right to figure in the school he has\nfounded with my uncle\u2019s aid, I, his nephew, and almost a child of the\nhouse, have a right to take a part in it also. But such is not the\nopinion of our imperious co-laborer. There is a certain routine about\nhis instructions that I mildly criticised. For example, he tries,\nhowever awkward it may be, to give a religious turn to everything,\nwhich I, though a great friend to religion, find ridiculous.\u201d\n\nIn this underhand way, Albert skilfully aroused his uncle\u2019s anger and\ndistrust. Mr. Smithson murmured to himself, with that voice of the soul\ninaudible to others: \u201cI thought so: he is fanatical and ambitious. My\nnephew, fool as he is, has found it out, and has unmasked him! That is\nwhy the other has got rid of him.\u201d\n\nAlbert partly guessed what was passing in his uncle\u2019s mind, and saw he\nhad made a good hit. He ended his recriminations in these terms: \u201cThe\nlittle advice of a humble nature I gave him; my course so different\nfrom his, and, I may say without vanity, better....\u201d\n\nHere Eug\u00e9nie burst into a loud laugh.\n\n\u201cEug\u00e9nie,\u201d said Mr. Smithson gravely, \u201cwhat your cousin is saying\nmerits attention. You are far too giddy this evening.\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie never resisted her father, except in a case of absolute\nnecessity; she became silent, and appeared to take no further interest\nin the conversation.\n\n\u201cAt last,\u201d said Albert, \u201cI clearly saw this gentleman wished to have\nhis school to himself, so much at home does he feel even there.... He\nrudely ... made me feel that ... I was in the way. I withdrew, but not\nwithout letting him know, in my turn, that I regarded his course as it\nmerited.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere was no quarrel between you?\u201d inquired Mr. Smithson, who had a\nhorror of contention.\n\n\u201cNo, uncle.\u201d\n\nMme. Smithson thereupon proceeded to console her nephew as well as\nshe could. The remainder of the evening passed in an uncomfortable\nmanner. Each of the four persons in the room was absorbed in serious\nreflection without wishing it to be obvious, and all felt that they\nwould not like to communicate what was passing in their hearts. This\ncaused a want of ease which became more and more awkward as it grew\nmore perceptible in spite of the efforts each made to conceal it. The\ntwo who were the most troubled, however, were Mme. Smithson and Albert.\nThe latter no longer doubted Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s love for the engineer. He ought\nto have seen that, as usual, she merely took the side of the oppressed.\n\nAs to Mr. Smithson, it was quite different. A few days previous, he\nmerely suspected Louis might be fanatical and ambitious, and linked\nwith the _cur\u00e9_ to undermine his authority among the workmen. Now he\nbegan to be sure of it. He even went so far as to suspect his daughter\nof favoring Louis\u2019 designs. This Catholic league, established in his\nown house and at his own hearth, filled him with a terror and anger as\nlively as they were ridiculous.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\nCALUMNY.\n\nThe next morning, before any one was up, Albert went in search of\nFanny, with whom he had the following conversation:\n\n\u201cYou have caused me a useless journey,\u201d said he. \u201cEug\u00e9nie loves the\nengineer.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not believe it,\u201d replied the servant, either because she did not,\nor because she wished to console Albert.\n\n\u201cIt is of no use to contradict me. I have kept my eyes open, and\ndrawn my own conclusions. I have a better opportunity than you for\nobservation. I tell you she loves him! If you cannot devise some scheme\nfor driving him from her mind, I shall set out to-morrow for the\ncapital.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere is what I call hitting the nail on the head.... I thought of\nsomething yesterday exactly to the point.\u201d\n\nIt was Albert\u2019s turn to be incredulous. He shrugged his shoulders as a\nsign of doubt.\n\n\u201cI tell you I can satisfy your demand,\u201d repeated Fanny slowly. \u201cListen!\nIn a manufactory, everything is talked about. The engineer has for\nsome time frequented a house apparently through charity, but it is my\nopinion another motive takes him there. There is a young girl in the\nhouse\u2014the prettiest, handsomest girl to be seen, they say, for ten\nleagues around. Besides, she is well behaved, intelligent, and even\npious; only, she is pitifully poor.\u201d\n\n\u201cTell me how he became acquainted with the family.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe father is a drunkard; the mother an idle, malicious creature who\nis employed here. The engineer looks after her. This woman was probably\nthe cause of his going to the house. They are extremely destitute.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the girl: what does she do?\u201d\n\n\u201cShe has been very well brought up at an aunt\u2019s in town. The aunt died\nrecently, and so suddenly that she was unable to make her will, as she\nintended, in favor of her niece. The latter has therefore returned\nhome, to find nothing but wretchedness. I must confess, however, that\nshe has behaved admirably.... All these details are correct, I assure\nyou.... What is no less true, Mlle. Eug\u00e9nie knows all the poor families\nthat the engineer visits except this one. It is my conviction that\nhe loves this girl, and intends marrying her some day.... There is no\nneed of making people out worse than they are. There are some good\nthings in this M. Louis. All his family are very wealthy. He will not\nbe poor long, and is at liberty to marry a woman who has nothing, if he\npleases.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Albert, \u201cI will reflect on what you have told me. It seems\nto me, with this information, I can greatly modify my fair cousin\u2019s\nfeelings towards her prot\u00e9g\u00e9.\u201d\n\nBefore another hour, Albert had gathered full particulars with regard\nto the subject, and matured his plans. That very afternoon, he asked\nEug\u00e9nie to allow him to accompany her in her rounds among the poor.\n\n\u201cWillingly,\u201d said she. \u201cI have not been to see them for some time. I\nwas just thinking I ought to go to-day.\u201d\n\nThey set out together. The day was delightful. Eug\u00e9nie, lively and\nwitty as usual, took most of the conversation upon herself. Albert had\non a dignified air of offence which he wished his cousin to perceive;\nbut she did not notice it, or pretended not. Twenty times he was on\nthe point of alluding to what had taken place the evening before, and\nas often refrained. Conceited as he was, Albert could not help it\u2014he\nwas not at his ease in Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s society. Her unvarying frankness, her\nintelligence, and the vivacity that never forsook her, all these rare\nqualities rendered him continually diffident in her presence.\n\nAt some distance from the manufactory, the road divided. One part\nturned towards the highway that led to the village; the other followed\na gentle declivity to the river half hidden among the willows, rushes,\nand flowers that make that part of the bank so delightful.\n\n\u201cWhat a charming view!\u201d said Albert. \u201cLet us go down this way a short\ndistance. We can afterwards return to the highway.\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie allowed herself to be guided by his wish. When within a hundred\nsteps from the shore, they came to a hut by the wayside, between two\nlarge trees, picturesque in appearance, but indicative of poverty. It\nlooked like a forsaken nest in a thicket.\n\nAlbert had made particular inquiries, and knew the hut was inhabited by\nthe Vinceneau family\u2014the one, it will be recollected, that Louis took\ncharge of unknown to Eug\u00e9nie.\n\n\u201cAre there not some of your poor people here whom you ought to visit?\u201d\nasked Albert, in the most innocent manner.\n\n\u201cNo; I have no idea who lives in this cottage.\u201d\n\n\u201cI saw M. Louis coming out of it the other day.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe probably came here on business. I know all the families he visits;\nnone of them lives here.\u201d\n\nWhile thus talking, Albert approached the hut, and, before Eug\u00e9nie\ncould prevent him, entered. She followed.\n\nM\u00e8re Vinceneau was at home that day, in one of her fits of idleness and\nill-humor. She at once recognized Eug\u00e9nie, whom she did not like. She\nhad, as I have already remarked, a general antipathy against the rich.\n\n\u201cWhat have you come here for?\u201d said she.\n\n\u201cWe do not wish to disturb you in the least,\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, whose\ncuriosity was now roused. \u201cMy cousin and I merely wish to rest\nourselves. Perhaps you could give us some milk.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have none.\u201d\n\nM\u00e8re Vinceneau was a tall, spare woman, with a forbidding countenance,\nand covered with rags. Had it not been for her crabbed face, she would\ncertainly have excited compassion. However, Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s sympathies were\nawakened at the sight of her wretched condition.\n\n\u201cYou seem very destitute, my good woman,\u201d said she. \u201cCan I be of any\nservice to you?\u201d\n\nLa Vinceneau softened a little at this gracious offer. \u201cThank you,\u201d she\nsaid. \u201cIt is true we are badly off, while some people have too much....\nNevertheless, I ought not to complain. We have one friend.... You\nknow him well\u2014M. Louis, the engineer of your mill. What a kind heart\nhe has! There is one who loves the poor! If the rich only resembled\nhim!...\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you live here alone?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; I have a husband employed at the tile-works, and a daughter who\ngoes out as a seamstress in the village. She is coming now.\u201d\n\nA slight cloud came over Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s face. It became still darker when\nMadeleine Vinceneau entered. Madeleine was not merely beautiful: she\nwas dazzling. Poorly but neatly clad, she came forward with a dignity\nand grace that inspired astonishment as well as respect. Her large\nblack eyes, her pale, refined face, her smiling lips, and her whole\nappearance, had an air of aristocratic distinction.\n\n\u201cWhat a lovely creature!\u201d was Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s first thought. Then another\npresented itself: \u201cPerhaps Louis loves her.\u201d She shuddered. A feeling\nof displeasure and sadness came over her: \u201cI must be in love with\nhim myself without being aware of it, to be so jealous,\u201d she said to\nherself. This doubt was natural. Eug\u00e9nie determined to solve it. Such\nis our nature. We can never see so clearly what is passing in the\ndepths of our hearts as in a tempest.\n\nEug\u00e9nie began to question the girl discreetly. She wished to ascertain\nif her nature was as angelic as her exterior. She was soon satisfied\non this point. Madeleine was innocence itself, and as good as she\nwas innocent. She confirmed all her mother had said, and in her turn\npraised Louis with an ingenuousness that assured Eug\u00e9nie she did not\nlove him. \u201cBut he\u2014is he as indifferent to her?...\u201d was Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s\nthought as she left the house. She could not get rid of the painful\nsuspicion, consequently she was in rather a gloomy mood. Albert noticed\nit, but refrained from saying anything. One unguarded word would have\ncounteracted the happy effect of his perfidious scheme. But he was\ntriumphant when he returned to his room. \u201cI have dealt my rival a\nsevere blow,\u201d said he to himself\u2014\u201ca blow he can hardly recover from;\nfor he will not suspect its source, and Eug\u00e9nie will never mention it\nto him. Even if she wished to, how could they have any explanation?\nThey never meet except in the presence of others. Before such an\nexplanation takes place, I must find other means of completing his\nruin.... I have begun well, and must bring things to a crisis....\u201d\n\nAll this occurred the day before Louis came to see us. M\u00e8re Vinceneau\ntold him of the visit a short time after. He suspected there was\nsome scheme of Albert\u2019s at the bottom of it, and dwelt on the means\nhe should use to defeat his calculations. Meanwhile, his enemy was\ncontriving a new plot destined to cause him still greater embarrassment.\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nTHE EMPIRE.\n\nFROM THE REVUE DU MONDE CATHOLIQUE.\n\n\nTHE imperial form of government has sprung up in France within seventy\nyears, and been only slightly modified by the different administrations\nthat have succeeded each other. And yet nothing could be more at\nvariance with the traditions, customs, and genius of the nation. This\n_r\u00e9gime_ is of foreign origin. It is the recrudescence of the conquest\nof Gaul by Julius C\u00e6sar. It has subjected us again to a yoke analogous\nto the condition we were in after Gaul lost its independence. The veil\nthat blinded us to its real nature has fallen off in the shock of\nmomentous events. It is important to reassert a truth that will now be\nbetter comprehended. The historians of the Revolution have endeavored\nto show that the revolutionary movement of 1789 was purely French,\nand the result of national necessity; but the very violence that\naccompanied it proves the contrary. Natural developments are effected\npeacefully. Louis XVI., so far from resisting the torrent, seconded\nit, and abandoned himself to it. Nothing shows so fully what an effort\nwas necessary for the triumph of the Revolution as the impossibility\nof its succeeding by regular means and the assent of the country. It\ntook France by assault. It profited by circumstances, but this does\nnot change the nature of its deeds or the character of its success. We\ndo not deny that this pagan and C\u00e6sarean tradition might have found\nits way into France with the monarchy, but it is certain that, however\nrestrained it had been by Christian principles, it all at once broke\nthrough its bounds. Half the members of the Constituent Assembly\nbelonged to the legal profession. Imbued with the absolutist teachings\nof Roman law, they energetically sought to apply them. The Revolution\nrecalls ancient Greco-Roman days; there is nothing Christian about it.\nWhat is the sovereignty of the people but the very principle that laid\nthe foundation of despotism in Greece? The title of \u201ccitizen\u201d implies\nthat all Frenchmen belong to the same city or town. This rising _en\nmasse_, and the notion that every Frenchman is a soldier, are wholly\npagan. The legislative corps\u2014that means the people make their own\nlaws, only they do so by proxy. What! the people not exercise their\nspecial prerogative! In ancient times, though the people only amounted\nto a few thousand voters, they never fully enjoyed the legislative\npower. Besides, in consequence of the institution of slavery, every\nshade of democracy was equivalent to an aristocracy. The legislators of\n1789 only recognized the slavery of citizens with respect to the state,\nwhich induced them to create a power strong enough to counterbalance\nand represent their ten millions of constituents.\n\nTheir proscriptions, denunciations, conspiracies, and struggles\nrecall the time of Marius and Sylla. It is worthy of notice that\nin the revolutionary documents the heroes of Athens and Rome\nreplace the saints of the calendar. This imitation is extremely\namusing. A religion utterly pagan follows. A Pantheon is opened to\nmodern divinities, and great men deified. Catholicism undergoes a\npersecution unsurpassed by the persecutions of the emperors of the\nfirst three centuries. It alone is excluded from the Pantheon. Under\nthe empire, this imitation is so striking that it is impossible to\nmistake it. The Napoleonic era recalls that of the C\u00e6sars. In this\nnew civilization, or ancient civilization revived, new terms are\nnecessary to express the changes made. Political language is modified.\nFirst we have consuls, then tribunes, then a senate, and at last an\nemperor. The senatus-consultum keeps pace with the plebiscitum. The\nsubdued provinces are governed by prefects. The judges are merely\nNapoleon\u2019s delegates. The whole of this organization is of foreign,\nnot French, origin. Our history presents no parallel to it. And the\nreality corresponds with the appearances: it is the engrafting of\nabsolute power on the sovereignty of the people. For the emperor never\ndisguised the source of his authority. He always assumed to be the\nrepresentative of the people. Like Augustus and Tiberius, he derived\nthe imperial inviolability from the tribunitian character with which he\nwas invested. The empire had its _noblesse_, but a _noblesse_ of titles\nand decorations similar to that of the Lower Empire. All independence\nwas denied this _noblesse_. The army was likewise organized after\nthe manner of the Roman legion. There were no longer any local\ndistinctions. Each regiment was composed of a confused mixture of the\nvarious French peoples. The officers even did not belong to their\nregiments. They knew, in their nomadic life, only the will of C\u00e6sar, on\nwhom alone they depended, and who transported them from one regiment to\nanother, and from one place to another. Passive instruments, they had\nno will of their own. Therefore, they were ready for anything.\n\nFormerly, the army could not be employed against the nation. It\nrepresented the different social elements, and enjoyed the independence\nnatural to these elements. The officers retained their independence,\nfor they served at their own expense from a sense of duty. The\nadministration, the bar, and the army under the empire depended on one\nindividual. Neither local customs, nor municipal corporations, nor\nright of property could withstand this despotism. A universal levelling\nunder the name of equality smoothed away every obstacle before C\u00e6sar.\nWhat rank could stand before the formidable title of the sovereignty of\nthe people? This C\u00e6sarean power found no embodiment in one of French\norigin. It fell to an Italian, a Roman, to one who rivalled Plutarch\u2019s\nheroes. This Italian assumed control of the Revolution without ceasing\nto be Italian, or rather Roman; for Roman he was, a cosmopolite.\nHis aim was to restore the Roman Empire, or the Empire of the West.\nThe French nation was to be the means of universal conquest, as the\nGauls in the hands of his predecessors, the C\u00e6sars. Of old France he\npreserved no vestige. And he carried into Italy his achievements in\nFrance. He extended the Revolution to Spain. There was nothing French\nin a single characteristic of his genius. And his race have obstinately\npursued the imperial career which he opened. His nephew, like himself,\na mixture of astuteness, violence, boundless ambition, utopianism,\nliterary tastes, and fatalism, renewed the glory of the empire. Louis\nNapoleon also belonged to all lands. Italian, Swiss, German, English,\nAmerican\u2014he had something of them all. He spoke all languages as well\nas the French, and his French was that of a refugee. During his reign,\nhe assembled around him none but foreigners. His apartments were never\nclear of the outlandish people he had become acquainted with in his\nwanderings. He loved to converse with them, to tell them his plans. And\nthese adventurers enjoyed being with him. They found him as utopian\nas ever, as unchanged in his notions, and the phenomenon interested\nthem. No Frenchman of note consented to serve him. France was given up\nto foreigners. They penetrated everywhere, and took possession of the\ncountry. Imperial cosmopolitanism attracted them, and sheltered them,\nand overloaded them with favors. French policy became English, Italian,\nAmerican. The denationalization of France was effected by the laws,\npublic schools, new manners, and the transformation of Paris into an\nEuropean capital of pleasures and the arts: France disappeared. This\nsystem was overthrown when, arrived at the highest pitch of madness,\nLouis Napoleon, after effecting the unity of Italy, so powerfully aided\nKing William in setting up the new Empire of Germany as a rival to\nFrance. He sacrificed France to the triumph of the imperial idea in\nItaly and Germany.\n\nThe Bonaparte family is completely destitute of patriotism. Its\ncosmopolitan character is constantly asserting itself. Louis Napoleon\u2019s\nforeign policy was essentially anti-French. His constant desire\nto effect the unity of Italy and that of Germany was the wish of\nan alien. Our interior legislation became no less opposed to the\nnational character. What is the civil code but the systematization of\nprinciples laid down in the Digest? The right of property restricted\nby the legislator, family rights suppressed for the benefit of C\u00e6sar,\nand property, as well as individuals, placed under administrative\ndirection\u2014all this is Bonapartism as well as C\u00e6sarism. Outside of\nthe central power, there was no authority possessing any freedom of\naction in France. No municipal body was safe from dissolution. No\ncorporation was allowed to stand alone. Obedience became the lot of the\nFrench; which does not imply order and unanimity, for the government,\nwith contradictory aims, and without any real permanence, imposed\nlaws that were contradictory and impracticable. The distinguishing\nfeature of Bonapartism is the union of liberal theories with absolute\npower. In spite of universal suffrage and deliberative assemblies,\ndespotism increased and was strengthened. It even relied on the\nopposing and controlling influences it created. The senate and the\nlegislative corps were subservient to the empire, and sustained it.\nThe idea of equality and liberty constantly held out by high imperial\nfunctionaries contributed to the popularity of the Napoleons. Under the\nlate _r\u00e9gime_, Prince Jerome Napoleon was charged with representing\nthe democratic side of the imperial government. But we know now,\nby the revelations of the papers found, that his opinions always\ncoincided with the emperor\u2019s. This was what may be called playing\ninto each other\u2019s hands. The tip of the ear shows itself in those\nliberal speeches which were apparently most hostile to the government\nin such a way that no one who knows how to read can fail to perceive\nit. Under his forcible language is concealed a faint, half-expressed,\nvague opinion, but which is clearly and positively opposed to the\nrights of assemblies. What enthusiastic liberalism did not M. de\nPersigny manifest! According to him, provincial liberty was upheld by\nthe _pr\u00e9fets_, whom he styled, on one occasion, the fathers of the\ndepartments. This sally caused much laughter, but M. de Persigny did\nnot laugh. This same minister bethought himself of some conflicting\nelements that had evaded the superintending eye of C\u00e6sar. It occurred\nto him to place his master officially at the head of the secret\nsocieties, and he transformed free-masonry into an imperial institution.\n\nThe despotism that has weighed on France for seventy years is\nunknown to the rest of Europe. We do not say that other nations\nhave not undergone various degrees of despotism, but the despotism\nof a dictatorship founded on the sovereignty of the people is a\nprivilege France alone has enjoyed. A dictatorship, that institution\nof republican Rome, has been known here since 1789. Successive\ngovernments have been set up in the name of the people; they have\nall been ephemeral; they have acknowledged no other will but their\nown\u2014at least, in the beginning. The dictatorship is renewed every ten\nyears. At Rome, before the empire, it has been calculated that every\nthree years and a half a dictatorship was established, which lasted\nsix months or thereabouts. Our situation, therefore, is preferable.\nIt may, however, be questioned if it is the ideal of a Christian\nnation. Louis Napoleon became the open apologist of Julius C\u00e6sar:\nhe took sides against the Gauls and Franks, who were our ancestors.\nThis audacity excited universal astonishment. The Romans from the\nbeginning were accustomed to absolute power and anarchy. In the vast\nseries of revolutions that make up their history, we find no fixed\nform of government. The consuls, pr\u00e6tors, and tribunes at Rome, and\nin the provinces the proconsuls and governors, exercised unlimited\npower. The emperor was only a perpetual dictator. Roman civilization\nwas absolute power opposed to the liberties of foreign and barbarous\nnations who preserved a primitive social organization, and lived under\npatriarchal institutions. The Roman historians acknowledge that the\nbarbarians fought for liberty. The Romans governed the provinces as,\nat a later period, the Turks governed the countries they conquered.\nScience and literature have depicted their sanguinary course with\nbrilliant sophistry, and erected it into a system. There is no doubt\nthat the thousands of jurisconsults who devoted their talents to the\nempire never questioned the legitimacy of C\u00e6sarism. They did not even\ncomprehend German liberty. They often spoke of it with a rare ignorance.\n\nTacitus sometimes forgets the fidelity with which he has described the\nmanners of the Germans. He passes this singular judgment on a people\nof Thrace whose independent spirit he mentions: _Ne regibus parere\nnisi ex libidine soliti_[169]\u2014they obey their kings only according\nto their caprice or humor. To us this has no sense. Tacitus sees that\nthese people obey sometimes, but not always. He does not perceive the\nlink that connects these two facts. To obey through humor or caprice is\nnot to obey at all. What is their legal obligation? It is sufficient\nto examine their barbarous institutions. The barbarous king is neither\na dictator nor consul: he is like a father. His authority is limited\nby other heads of families and by their customs. The tribe obeys, but\nonly after discussing the point in the assemblies of the nation. The\npeople obey when the king has received the necessary approval of the\nestablished authorities. There is not, as under the Roman government,\na man who rules, and a nation that obeys. This dualism does not exist\namong the barbarians. The king is a part of the nation, as a father\nis of his family, which attributes a high dignity to both king and\nfather, but not great power. Unity of action, in this case, comes by\nthe concurrence of wills. This concurrence is permanent, and the easier\nbecause nature, through the family ties, softens difference of opinion,\nlessens rivalries, and produces men of incontestable authority whose\nvery birth commands respect. Their laws are less severe and stringent,\nbut liberty reigns, and society is based on the affections, and not\non the mere predominance of force. Tacitus would be more intelligible\nif he said that the people only obeyed after giving their approval\naccording to forms which custom had established. Strictly speaking,\nthe word _libido_ might imply either consent or assent. The idea is\nsomewhat obscure. But there is nothing to authorize a translator to say\nthe people obeyed their king only through caprice or humor. Tacitus\nfinds it difficult to comprehend the organization of the tribe, and\ndoes not regard it as of much account. He judges like a Roman who has\na clear notion only of military rule and passive obedience. In spite\nof himself, however, he dwells on these barbarians, who inspire him\nwith a kind of terror. He points out the effects of their patriarchal\ninstitutions from which the liberty of modern nations has sprung. His\nbooks are for us a title of honor. Our ancestors figure therein as\nconquered: their features are changed, but not unrecognizable. We love\nto find proofs that the traditions of liberty among the French race\npreceded the importation of despotism.\n\nDespotism came to us by the way of revolution. This will not surprise\nany one. The empire is the highest and most definite form of despotism\namong civilized nations. Our enlightenment, or pretended enlightenment,\nso far from having any repugnance to it, evidently led to it. Are we\nmore enlightened than the Greeks and Romans? Are our rulers better\nversed in art, law, or literature than the rulers of Athens or Rome?\nThe idea of despotism has been so infused into the modern mind that\neven the extreme partisans of liberty can conceive of nothing but\ndespotism as the basis of their theories. M. Jules Simon, the worthy\nsuccessor of M. Duruy, dreams of subjecting France to the communist\nsystem of Spartan education. And hardly any one ventures to oppose him.\nWhat notions of liberty have children reared by the state? They are\nbrought up in the official world, imbibe its sentiments and the ideas\nof the state, and reproduce them in their public and private life. We\nwho cannot consent to the suppression of the family are desirous that\nchildren should bear the impress of family influences. The family yoke\nis sweet and light; the assimilation of children to their parents is\neasy. The liberty of children is guaranteed. Family authority is a\nless burdensome restraint than that of the state, and the multitude\nof families creates a sort of counterpoise, so that their minds are\nnot formed by a single will, but develop according to their various\naptitudes. If any one objects that the state teaches no doctrines, we\nreply that to teach none is to teach some. In fact, this is really the\nsource of indifference, or the system of practical atheism. Is not this\nthe doctrine that is agitating France?\n\nOur government has been copied from the C\u00e6sarean government. Everywhere\nis to be seen a gradation of functionaries who receive their orders\nfrom Paris, and are not opposed by any provincial action capable\nof resisting them. It is useless to enumerate all the public or\ncollective offices in order to show how they are combined under a\nsingle impulsion. No country in Europe has attained to such perfection\nof the imperial _r\u00e9gime_. The Roman Empire even has been surpassed,\nfor we have the advantage of the press, railways, and telegraphs,\nwhich increase the power of the state to an indefinite degree. New\nideas have also arisen to the aid of this despotism. Political economy\ndeclares the loan to be the best of investments. The patrimony of\nfuture generations has been invested in bonds regulated by the present\ngeneration. By successive loans, all individual capital has fallen\ninto the hands of the state. In a more or less indirect way, the state\nhas taken possession of all the charitable or other funds created\nby associations or individuals. Confiscations are not nominally\npractised, but by the ingenuity of our fiscal system, and the skilful\napportionment of the taxes, the whole value of the soil passes into the\nfiscal treasury in forty years. This is really a kind of confiscation.\nC\u00e6sarism found out how to transform the Chamber of Deputies into a\nfiscal instrument. Instead of moderating, limiting, or abolishing the\ntaxes, the Chamber of Deputies, and especially our recent legislative\ncorps, have studied how to increase them. All the representatives of\nthe people have looked upon their constituents as subjects to be taxed\nand made use of. The government has had more income from the taxes than\nit wanted. This work of communism has been applauded in a thousand\nrevolutionary papers. In this respect, the republican assemblies have\nnot differed from the imperial. Whether the deputies were chosen by the\nballot, by the nomination of Parisian committees, or the appointment of\nthe Minister of the Interior, the state of the case and the result have\nbeen the same.\n\nThe organization of our army is entirely C\u00e6sarean. Though levied from\nthe whole country, it takes cognizance of nothing that is local or\nprovincial. Individual measures are repressed by the bureaucracy, which\nis subservient to C\u00e6sar because it is detached from the soil, and is\ninfluenced only by the hope of promotion.\n\nBut the French magistracy at least enjoys independence? It did previous\nto 1789. The government did not interpose in the appointment of\nmagistrates. This system, otherwise very defective, did not err through\nservility. The empire, artfully retaining a certain semblance of the\nancient _r\u00e9gime_, was careful not to do so where the independence\nof the magistracy was concerned. The emperor nominated all the\nmagistrates, and made them removable at pleasure. This system did not\nsuit the Restoration, and immovability was established. Under Louis\nPhilippe, the magistracy rapidly diminished. The more honest felt\nthemselves bound by their oath, and refused to serve the royalty of\nJuly. But the Third Empire, by its administrative practices, effaced\nthe last trace of judiciary independence, and destroyed the permanence\nof the office by the prospect of lucrative advancement. Hitherto money\nhad not seemed to be the aim of the magistrate. The idea of a career to\npursue never entered his head. The magistrate did not have to earn his\nlivelihood, and he belonged to his native place, where, regarded with\nuniversal respect, he lived on his own fortune, which was the exterior\npledge of his independence. The needy and the ambitious did not seek\nsuch a post. The empire raised the salaries of the magistrates only\nto make the office accessible to that class of people who are ready\nto obey at whatever cost. Immovability was illusory when the greater\npart of the magistrates, desirous only of advancement, went from one\nplace to another according to the ministerial humor. Besides, the\ngovernment asked nothing better than to have in each locality transient\nmagistrates who were strangers to the people, and only awaited an\nopportunity of ascending the ladder of promotion. This allurement was\nmore efficacious than fear in effecting the change in our judiciary\ncustoms. The justiceship of the peace, which ought to be a kind of\nrural and local institution, and which for some time preserved that\ncharacter, speedily degenerated. The empire at last ended by bringing\nit completely under the yoke of centralism. Instead of being the\nindependent arbiter of petty quarrels and trivial interests that\nrequired immediate solution because they were not worth the expense\nand delay of a suit, the justice of the peace now found himself an\nelectoral agent, and implicated in politics. He had to be chosen from\nthe nomadic class of civilians. To prevent all ties with the people,\nfees were done away with, and his salary made equal to that of the\njudges of the inferior court. The pretext was made that the dignity of\nthe magistracy did not allow a judge to receive perquisites. The truth\nis that there was a very different reason. The justices of the peace,\nbeing natives of the country, and already in possession of a patrimony,\nhad no eye to the fees. Many of them had scarcely any. On an average,\nthe perquisites did not amount to more than five or six hundred francs,\nand were not always easily collected. A mere income of seven or eight\nhundred francs was not sufficient to attract a stranger, especially\nwhen there was no prospect of promotion. The empire sought to bind\nthe justices of the peace closely to itself, and deprived the office,\npractically speaking, of its perpetuity, for the same reason that it\nhad made the assize judges removable. The justiceship of the peace,\nhaving been made a round of the judiciary ladder, became accessible to\nthose civilians or agents who only asked to serve the government. Our\njudiciary army, as numerous as our administrative army, and composed\nof agents nominated directly by the state, had, then, but one course\nopen to it. Its apparent immovability no longer hid anything. Those\nwho are familiar with the affairs of the empire know what to think\nof a magistracy which takes it upon itself to sound its own praises.\nThough founded on very different principles, the French magistracy, by\na sudden deviation, has gone back to the C\u00e6sarean type of Byzantium.\n\nThis mixture of the appearance of freedom with despotism is natural\nto an absolute power resting on a popular basis. We cannot see how\nit could be otherwise. Ancient Rome afforded the same spectacle. The\nC\u00e6sars never ceased to repeat that they were the representatives of the\npeople, and the defenders of national liberty. We are not astonished\nthat the French government which sprang from the Revolution has\nassumed this attitude. The Romans only admitted Roman civilization,\nwhich they called \u201cRoman peace.\u201d Their poets often speak of \u201cthe\nmajesty of Roman peace.\u201d Civilization, then, consisted in obeying the\nproconsuls, paying the taxes, furnishing recruits, and working on\nthe roads and public monuments. At this price, the provinces enjoyed\na little tranquillity. It is noteworthy that the French Revolution\nassumed to be the only light capable of guiding the world in the way\nof liberty, equality, fraternity, progress, civilization, comfort,\netc. Its disciples still assert that France is continuing to fulfil\nthis mission. This is what Louis Napoleon meant when he said that\nFrance alone contended for an idea. This immeasurable pride in thinking\nourselves superior to other nations has had to bow down. It was not\nby virtue of our actual qualities that we undertook to assume such a\nsupremacy, but, on the contrary, by virtue of the errors and vices\nthat have sprung up in modern times. In the XVIIth century, when our\nmoral superiority was acknowledged and incontestable, no Frenchman ever\nadvertised any pretension to overrule other nations, or believed that\nour nation was destined to precede others in order to enlighten them.\nThis pretension sprang up in 1789, at the time when a new system was\npromulgated in the midst of the terrors of the Revolution. Supposing\nthis idea to be new, what right had France to impose it forcibly on\nother nations? Europe rose in arms to repel revolutionary or C\u00e6sarean\ninvasions, and before the coalition France has three times fallen.\n\nWe have been sobered by this experience. The _r\u00f4le_, brilliant as it\nwas, has only left us bitter remembrances. It remains for us to govern\nourselves without any pretension to govern others. Our political\nand military organization has suddenly crumbled to pieces. That\nmasterpiece, which was a combination of contradictions, order, and\ndisorder, is now only a ruin. Lamentations are heard on all sides. It\nis perceived that, under the pretext of equality, all Frenchmen have\nbeen reduced to equal powerlessness. When men of good-will sprang up\non every hand to the help of France, leaders were wanting; there was\nno one to direct. Overwhelmed in the first place by number, we ended\nby overcoming that difficulty, and then there was a deficiency of\norganization. Leaders and discipline are not the work of a day. If\neducation has not developed individual ability, in vain will you seek\nfor genuine, natural, and acknowledged leaders. The spirit of the\nfamily alone, by forming the character, habituates men to a necessary\nsubordination. The atheism of the state tends to root out of every\nconscience the sense of duty. How obey, if we do not comprehend the\nobligation of obedience, and if those who rule over us do not seem\nworthy of ruling us? Discipline is a certain moral order. It should\nfirst exist within us by submission to Providence and to the social\norder established by Providence. Imperial and republican despotism\nhave aimed at moulding the whole French nation after one single type.\nAnd when the overruling, guiding will was gone, the whole nation was\nparalyzed. The Roman Empire had the same fate. It fell both in the east\nand west from causes analogous to those that are preying on us. An able\ndespotism, a vast material organization, admirable military traditions,\nand the assent of the people, could not ensure the stability of the\nbrilliant communities of Rome and Byzantium. The same principles must\nlead to the same consequences: no stable form of government; the\nsupreme power constantly at the mercy of elections, factions, and\nviolence. The C\u00e6sarean system, whenever it obtains sway, gives glory,\nand grandeur, and brilliancy to society, but also leads to anarchy and\nincurable weakness.\n\nRoman civilization was overthrown by pastoral nations: in the East,\nby the Arabs and Turks; in the West, by the Germans. C\u00e6sarean France\neasily obtained the ascendancy over Italy, Austria, and Spain, because,\nalready initiated into C\u00e6sarism by Roman law, they offered but slight\nresistance. But when it undertook a struggle with Germany, its fortune\nchanged, because that country has many strong elements opposed to\nC\u00e6sarism and the principles of the French Revolution. Its _esprit de\nfamille_, its tendency to decentralization, and its official morality,\nsuperior to ours, are among the differences that carry us back to the\ninvasions of the first four centuries. C\u00e6sarean France has played a\ngreat part against modern Germany. But France is not so thoroughly\nC\u00e6sarean as the Roman Empire. Its interests, its customs, and its\ntraditions, impregnated with Catholicism, resist this assimilation.\nThe Italian astuteness of the Bonapartes succeeded in making us think\ndespotism would lead to liberty. Our eyes are painfully opened to\nthe imperial _r\u00e9gime_ and modern institutions. We can no longer deny\nthat our social condition has approximated to ancient C\u00e6sarism, and\nreproduced its principal conditions. The empire did not even conceal\nthis imitation. The public works and the plebiscitum were the popular\nside of this _r\u00e9gime_. No nation of Europe has experienced anything\ncomparable to it. In no other has the government become the contractor\nand general constructor of all the public works.\n\nThe Roman Empire alone presents a similar spectacle. The emperors\nprovided for the amusement of the Roman people. They instituted\nfestivals and games. They everywhere erected buildings for ornament\nor public utility, the ruins of which are still famous. The great\nmonuments of our ancient monarchies were due to individuals, guilds,\nand the zeal of the faithful. The state did not interpose. Since 1789,\nthe state alone has erected edifices because it alone has had wealth.\nThis system of public works is only one form of communism. Though Louis\nNapoleon had no taste for the arts, he had a passion for building.\nThis phlegmatic C\u00e6sar, like the Roman emperors, made it a duty to\namuse the people. Family gatherings and the old festivals authorized\nby religion did not meet with his approval. Such festivals are, from\ntheir very nature, anti-C\u00e6sarean. They recall principles and sentiments\nopposed to C\u00e6sarism. But the individual must not escape C\u00e6sar. Public\namusements have a certain influence of their own. They must divert the\nmind from all the influences of family, corporations, and religion, and\npartake of the vulgar communism authorized by the state. It is thus\nC\u00e6sar undertook to amuse the people. Who does not know what the Paris\ntheatres became? The towns in the provinces followed the movement,\nconstrained by the _pr\u00e9fets_ and mayors. Corruption, promoted by books\nand official addresses, was put in practice in every theatre of the\nempire. When the immense bazaar of the Universal Exposition was opened,\nLouis Napoleon invited all the sovereigns of Europe to be present.\nThey had no wish to attend, but yielded to his importunities. They\nheld a grudge against their Amphitryon. That was not the only mark of\nsuperiority he affected with respect to them. He proposed a congress\nto sanction the principles of the French Revolution. He neglected no\nopportunity of influencing their policy. He was constantly shaking the\nthrones of Europe by his democratic pretensions. He believed himself\nalone to be legitimate, and pitied the other sovereigns who lacked the\nconsecration of universal suffrage. Experience has once more shown us\nthat immense powers may rest on fragile foundations, but the lesson\nwill be of no use to the Bonapartes, who are ready to recommence. Shall\nit be lost on France?\n\nOur revolutions and various _coups d\u2019\u00e9tat_ within a century have\ntransformed us into a C\u00e6sarean nation. All our political elements\nbear the impress of this fatal destiny. The army, the magistracy,\nthe administration, and the schools are disciplining us for this\nsocial system. There is no power but the state. Property is no longer\nmanaged according to the wishes of the proprietor, but by those of the\nlegislator. Luxury has increased to an astonishing degree. How easily\nit has pervaded all classes of society! It is the government that has\nled us to yield to these new requirements of fashion. Economically\nspeaking, luxury is waste of capital, and an unproductive expenditure.\nOld French society, founded on the right of property and the permanence\nof families and fortunes, rejected luxuries, superfluities, and useless\nexpense. In everything, it had an eye to the solid and durable. That,\nin fact, was the character of French industry. The Roman Empire was a\nstranger to lasting influences and hereditary fortunes. Proscriptions\nand confiscations made short work of them. Nothing must appear to\nrival C\u00e6sar, and manifest any power or independence. Christian society\npursued and attained a different object. With us, the civil code takes\nthe place of confiscations and proscriptions; it takes care that\nfortunes are as speedily wasted as acquired; it ruins by periodical\nliquidations families scarcely formed. In spite of this, the instincts\nof nature incline us to a certain care of our property. Speedily\nacquired fortunes, made by commerce, industrial pursuits, or legal\ntransmission, became a source of anxiety to the imperial mind. They\nmight foster independence! Thence the constant preoccupation of the\nempire to lead the whole nation into luxurious habits by the temptation\nof pleasures and large salaries. The multiplication of cabarets is an\nunmistakable evidence of this. Obliged to expend more than they gained,\nthe office-holders remained in servitude. And from one to another\nthe emulation has extended throughout France. C\u00e6sar not only amused\nthe people, but, led away by example, the people sought additional\namusements at their own expense. Thus property, idly spent, and lacking\nthe permanence that assures independence, ceased to limit or be an\nobstacle to C\u00e6sar\u2019s will. All wealth became dependent on the public\ncredit and the stock market, and had an interest in the continuance of\nC\u00e6sar\u2019s reign. The whole interior policy of the empire was based on\nthis principle. The political institution of luxury kept pace with the\ntheatre and literature.\n\nThe immorality of C\u00e6sarism may be readily understood. Morality in a\nnation is solely engendered by domestic life. But the family is the\n_b\u00eate noire_ of C\u00e6sarism. It was by destroying it and assuming its\nfunctions that C\u00e6sarism succeeded in training the people. A man,\nseparated from his family and the place where he ought to live, and\ntransported to another region where he is only accountable to the\nstate, a stranger to the people among whom he lives, no longer thinks\nabout his morality, but the service he must render to the state. How\nmany functionaries, inadmissible in one place on account of tricks\nfrowned upon by public opinion, are sent elsewhere without losing the\nfavor of the government!\n\nFrance was as surprised by the invasion as the old world by the deluge.\nLet us admire her patience and courage. We must remember, however, that\nit was not C\u00e6sarism that saved her. The official world had disappeared.\nWhat remained rather clogged than aided the movement for repairing our\ndisaster. Our deliverance sprang from the people not enrolled under\nthe official banner. Without a government, France has shown her spirit\nof unity, and revealed her moral and material resources. It was not\nonly the emperor, but the whole empire, that surrendered its sword to\nthe King of Prussia at Sedan. In the same way, Napoleon surrendered to\nEngland after Waterloo. The high functionaries that only existed by\nthe will or caprice of C\u00e6sar, and who only served him by giving up all\nresponsibility, were suddenly left in darkness. The emperor only sought\n_ex officio_ supporters. In a country like France, these are always to\nbe found. Messrs. Morny, Billault, Troplong, Rouher, and Ollivier had\npliancy of mind enough to say and do anything to palliate and excuse\neverything. Thus, without any counterpoise, the imperial government\nconsisted in a single will which was intermittent, fluctuating, and a\nperpetual source of troubles and catastrophes to France. History is\nnot a casualty. It has its laws which control events. It is well to\nrepel invasions; it is better to do away with their cause. Demosthenes\nreplied to the Athenians who sought news of Philip: \u201cWhy, of what\nconsequence is it? Should he have perished, you would create another by\nyour dissensions. The Macedonian domination is only the result of Greek\nanarchy.\u201d\n\nThe French Empire, like the Roman, is the creation of historic\nnecessities produced by an age of revolutions and the application of\nprinciples that only find complete development under an autocratic\nform. Anarchy, in a proud and powerful nation with a glorious\npast and a warlike spirit, will always end in military supremacy.\nChristianity alone was able to check the system of perpetual war kept\nup by paganism. It framed the law of nations, making them a Christian\nrepublic. By the Revolution of 1789, France abandoned this system.\nThe Restoration of 1814 re-established it in part, but in 1830 the\nEuropean treaties were broken. Europe had to be on its guard against\nus, and exclude us from its alliances. Louis Napoleon openly and\nofficially expressed his contempt for treaties. With him France took\nrefuge in proud isolation, affecting an intellectual dictatorship,\nthe prelude of wars. War alone, in fact, can impose the will of one\nnation on another. This reign of armed propagandism has not ceased its\nmanifestations since 1848. The public schools, all the academies, and\nthe entire press came to the aid of Bonapartism. The personal enemies\nof the emperor were his most active auxiliaries. He was well aware of\nthis. He carefully promoted Carbonarism in Italy, and Jacobinism in\nFrance\u2014two terms for expressing the same thing. The attempts against\nhis life only promoted his success, instead of being an obstacle to it.\nHe recognized, so to speak, their justice, for he had taken the oaths\nof Carbonarism. When he realized that a crisis was at hand, he was not\nwilling for France to escape the Revolution, the reins of which he\nheld with apparent moderation. He successively let loose the press,\nthe clubs, the secret societies, and even the mob. He weakened and\ndegraded authority in the person of his agents, assured the pardon of\nall political offences, frequently changed his ministers without any\nreason or pretext, that the people might be convinced that they were\nall puppets. In this way, and under the pressure of invasion, he seemed\npreparing for a movement analogous to that of 1792. His death then\nwould have thrown us into a state of anarchy which would probably have\nbrought on the same invasion we have just undergone. He left behind him\nonly reflections of himself. When he disappeared from the scene, all\nthis was effaced. The regency of Eug\u00e9nie amounted to about as much as\nthe regency of Maria Louisa\u2014vain imitation, and a manifest proof that,\napart from the imperial person, there was no imperial government or\nrecognized authority, and that the empire and anarchy were brother and\nsister.\n\nThe downfall of the French monarchy plunged France once more into\na state of paganism. Our wars and invasions have been of the same\ncharacter as the wars and invasions of the first centuries of our era.\nThe French Empire had an insatiable thirst to invade Europe. Germany,\non her side, has retained a power of expansion that recalls ancient\ntimes. She no longer emigrates _en masse_, but by the indirect ways\nof modern civilization. She first sends her pioneers. Her tillers of\nthe soil go to the Sclave provinces of Austria and the Russian coasts\nof the Baltic. By their aptitude for labor, they take the lead, amass\ncapital, and end by controlling the people that receive them. There is\na German party in Russia, and this party has a controlling influence\nover the czars, or Muscovite C\u00e6sars. The Sclave race, more impressible,\nmore poetic, and less tenacious, less laborious, feels set aside by\nthe new settlers. It realizes that it is the victim of its hospitable\nand beneficent nature. A reaction will soon take place. The czar will\nbe forced to take the national cause in hand. Russia has not uttered\nits last word. She has been in some sort under foreign influence\nsince she imbibed the corrupt Christianity of Byzantium. It was only\nunder the direction of the French philosophers of the XVIIIth century\nthat she finally became a part of the European world. After the wars\nof the Revolution and the empire, our influence greatly diminished,\nand yielded to German influence. Destitute of scientific or literary\ntraditions, Russia sent her young men intended for office to the German\nuniversities. They returned with the scientific jargon of the schools,\na strong dose of atheism, affiliated with the secret societies, and\nwithout any sympathy with the tastes and sentiments of the Sclave\nrace. Thus favored, German influence has increased to such a degree\nas to cause anxiety in the Russian Empire. In its encroachments on\nAustria, Germany did not begin with pacific conquests. Silesia, seized\nby Frederic II., was colonized gradually. Finally, German emigration\nfilled our banks, our counting-rooms, and our railway offices. This\ntendency to expansion could only be restrained or repressed by our\nalliance with a great nation. Unfortunately, France affected to be\nabove European law. She pretended to promulgate a new law, a new\ncivilization. She refused, in the name of the principles of 1789, to\nallow that there were any legitimate sovereigns in Europe. France,\nplunged into C\u00e6sarism, found a rival in Germany, which had more\nancient C\u00e6sarean traditions, and which, less ravaged by revolution, was\nbetter organized than we for attack and defence. It is still increasing\nin population, whereas France, under the rule of economists, diminishes\nevery day. This alone ought to warn French policy of the error into\nwhich it has fallen. The German Confederation, the imposing remains\nof Christian ages, was the safeguard of Europe, by maintaining a\npeaceful equilibrium in Germany. France and England, unwisely governed,\nallowed the German Confederation to be dismembered. The Germanic union\nunder Prussia was evidently threatening. Lord Palmerston and Louis\nNapoleon, statesmen who had no correct notions of Christianity, could\nnot see anything or comprehend anything. It was, however, evident that\na peculiar kind of C\u00e6sarism was to spring from this overturning of\nGermany. A slight knowledge of history and the German character should\nhave been sufficient to convince Europe of this. The diplomacy which,\nby the treaty of 1856, arraigned the Sovereign Pontiff at its bar,\nrejoiced at the destruction of the Germanic Confederation, without\ndreaming that a few years later the Empire of Germany would consign\nthe once powerful nations of England, France, and Russia to the second\nrank. At the moment of this change, it is not useless to remark how\nmany deadly struggles the Papacy has had with C\u00e6sarism. It was by\nthe diffusion of Christian principles that it laid the foundation of\nChristian society.\n\nThe political life of the Papacy has been wholly spent in combating\nC\u00e6sarism. It struggled against the Roman emperors for three centuries,\nand then against the heresies of Byzantium. In our age, Napoleon\nexhausted all his arts and violence on Pius VII. Pius IX. found\nhimself at issue with Louis Napoleon, and Victor Emanuel, the Italian\nrepresentative of C\u00e6sarism. The contest of the popes with the emperors\nof Germany is celebrated. It was the Papacy that preserved human\nliberty throughout the middle ages. Germany had seized the imperial\nsceptre that had fallen from the hands of the weak successors of\nCharlemagne. In the XIIIth century, the C\u00e6sarean rule threatened the\nwhole of Europe. Frederic II., more perverse and more able than his\nnamesake of the XVIIIth century, found himself the master of Germany.\nHe triumphed in Italy through the support of the legists, and extended\nhis claims to the rest of Europe. Innocent IV., by issuing the bull of\nexcommunication against Frederic II. at the Council of Lyons, stopped\nthe German C\u00e6sar in his career, and put an end to the invasions of\nItaly he was constantly making. Italy, under the auspices of the\nPapacy, displayed a long career of municipal liberty.\n\nThe development of C\u00e6sarism in France as well as in Germany has\nfollowed the overthrow of the temporal power of the Holy See. But the\nGerman Empire will always retain an immense superiority over the French\nEmpire. It is less revolutionary, less democratic, less at variance\nwith its past history. It is not impossible that it may combine with\nthe local and municipal institutions of the country. Prussia is far\nfrom our absolute centralization, and there is nothing to indicate that\nshe is to be subjected to it. She remains the ally of the great powers\nof the Continent. She could easily have rallied all Europe against\nimperial and Byzantine France. Let us not deny it: no victory of Louis\nNapoleon\u2019s could have secured the left bank of the Rhine. The German\ncoalition would very soon have drawn the rest of Europe after it. This\nstruggle of one against all is a necessity of Bonapartism. Nothing\ncan check it. Softness of manners, a refined civilization, pretended\ncondemnation of war, philanthropy bordering on religion, boundless\nindustry and credit, the military incapacity of Louis Napoleon,\nnor anything else, could have prevented the war from breaking out.\n\u201cRevolution is war and bankruptcy,\u201d said Royer-Collard. It obeys its\nnature. It upheld the Bonapartes in spite of a kind of material order\nand discipline they forced on the people; it required of them an armed\npropaganda which they were more capable of managing successfully than\nthe republic itself. Louis Napoleon, with his mildness of character,\nand talent as a writer, desired a peace that would enable him to\ncontinue his utopian experiments in journalism. But he was not his own\nmaster. He felt that a revolution at home constituted only one-half\nof his obligations; the other half\u2014revolution abroad\u2014he was also\ndetermined to effect, though to his regret. He regarded the bombs of\nOrsini as a salutary warning, and submitted to his destiny. He extended\nrevolution to Italy and Mexico. He destroyed the influence of Austria.\nPrussia profited by these disturbances to unite Germany. But Louis\nNapoleon made a pitiful failure. He dashed against a wall with his\neyes shut. The pretext of a Hohenzollern on the Spanish throne was\nridiculous, and the legislative corps and senate that countenanced it\nshowed the measure of their political knowledge and independence.\n\nIt is difficult to comprehend by virtue of what principle or interest\nhe opposed the choice of a Hohenzollern. Had he not rejected the\nhereditary principle? Had he not aided in overthrowing all the princes\nof the House of Bourbon who still reigned through this principle? Was\nnot his own power based on election? And what did it matter to France\nwhether that pitiful Spanish crown was on one head rather than another?\nWhat gratitude could he expect from those revolutionary sovereigns\nwhose patron or director he constituted himself? He took the petty\nSubalpine king by the hand, and led him to the Crimea, and to the\nCongress of Paris, and thence into all the capitals of Italy. His plans\nwere unveiled when he forced the unhappy Victor Emanuel to give his\ndaughter to the imperial cousin. Who then could cherish any illusion\nas to the result? It was unfolded. Did the revolutionary union of the\nsouth spring from it? This union could only be effected by the unity\nof despotism. Napoleon knew it: his nephew forgot it. Revolutionary\nnations are necessarily at war or distrustful of one another, as the\nrevolutionary factions of a nation are always contending, unless some\nmaster\u2014no matter whether it is an individual or a party\u2014succeeds in\nsuppressing the rivalry.\n\nThis was the state of the case in our Revolution. Is it not a matter\nof public notoriety that the name of Napoleon excites only horror and\ndisgust in Spain and Italy?\n\nLouis Napoleon\u2019s aim was not to subdue Europe by war, but to effect an\ninternal change of government by means of revolutionary principles.\nThis resulted in exciting all the great powers against him. He\nthought there would be a revolution in Russia in consequence of the\nemancipation of the serfs which he recommended to the Czar Alexander.\nHe overthrew the German Confederation though it was so powerful a\nguarantee for the safety of France. It was he who made William Emperor\nof Germany. The overthrow of the Confederation under the circumstances\nin which it took place necessarily led to the empire, as the overthrow\nof ancient France led to the imperial _r\u00e9gime_ that has lasted till\nnow. We need not be astonished at the efforts of the King of Prussia\nto re-establish Louis Napoleon. They were accomplices, though Louis\nNapoleon has been taken for the dupe. Not that he was not conscious\nof the situation, but he warded off the flashes of reason and common\nsense he had, and gave himself up to a hallucination. France imitated\nhim, with the conscript fathers of the senate and the legislative corps\nat its head. Louis Napoleon contended for an idea, and he triumphed\nafter his manner, after the manner of his uncle. Conquered and made\nprisoner, he was humiliated, not by defeat, which does not humiliate\nthe brave, but by accepting his defeat. He yielded to the conqueror, he\nsurrendered his sword. Napoleon was defeated at Waterloo, but he was\nnot really cast down till he found himself on board the _Bell\u00e9rophon_.\nThen he realized who was victor. The lamentations of St. Helena\nreveal the liberal despot. Louis Napoleon also became an author and a\njournalist. He dreamed of returning to France. He published at Cassel\nunder the name of his friend, M. de Gr\u00e9court, a _brochure_ designed\nto influence Germany in his favor. He had no doubt of being as warmly\nwelcomed by France as Napoleon was when he returned from the island of\nElba.\n\nThere was no change in France. Our social institutions were still\nstanding. The republicans had found nothing to modify in the wonderful\nmachinery of despotism. There was nothing to prevent him from resuming\nhis place. There was the invasion besides. Did the disasters of 1814\nprevent Napoleon\u2019s reascendancy in France in 1815? Was there any\nlack of senators and representatives to welcome C\u00e6sar? Was not the\npopularity of the uncle the foundation of the nephew\u2019s success? That\nwas the sole cause of Louis Napoleon\u2019s accession. This popularity was\nnothing more than the result of success. Power and success united\nand counted the votes, and proclaimed the result. The revolutionary\npower was not entirely destroyed by the events of 1814 and 1815; it\nbecame an organized system, having its regulations, its leaders, its\njournals, its secret societies, and its permanent committees variously\ndisguised under the forms of beneficence, pleasure, science, etc. No\nregular government at variance with this many-sided, intangible power\ncould be established. The regular government of France especially\u2014the\nhereditary monarchy\u2014could not take root again. Public opinion and\nenthusiasm are like stage machinery that rises and falls. We witnessed\nthe workings of this machinery from 1848 to 1852. The inventors did not\neven give themselves the trouble to hide the workings from the eyes of\nthe public. This reign of opinion has continued. The word of command\nfrom the emperor was echoed by the ministers, and from them by the\n_pr\u00e9fets_, _sous-pr\u00e9fets_, and mayors. The entire administration in\nall its gradations walked in the same footsteps. By the public works,\nloans, and illusory promises, the mass of electors were so fascinated\nthat they could refuse nothing to a government that was promoting\nsuch benefits. Universal suffrage is the character in the comedy\u2014the\nsimple, good-natured Demos of Aristophanes. In reality, it is the\nemperor\u2014he who has the _imperium_, individually or by a number of\nindividuals, who votes at the general election. In the C\u00e6sarean system,\nthe emperor alone acts, but he acts in the name of the people, and as\nthe representative of the people. He is the voice of the people. This\nmust not be lost sight of when we judge the acts of Louis Napoleon.\n\nIn his _brochure_, he claims the good-will of the King of Prussia and\nGermany, because it was France alone that desired the war. He did not\ndesire it; he was not responsible for it. This was pleading his own\nimbecility and the culpability of France. What! he did not set France\nagainst Germany? He did not break the treaties of 1815, or officially\ncondemn them? He did not constantly propose the policy of his uncle\nas an example to France? He followed it without condemning an act or\na principle. The Jacobinism of his later years was a mere imitation\nof the liberal ideas his uncle brought back from the island of Elba,\nand continued to cultivate at St. Helena\u2014ideas that M. Thiers, in his\nvoluminous compilation concerning the empire, regarded as serious!\nThis was why Louis Napoleon declared him \u201cthe national historian,\u201d\nand presided at the obsequies of B\u00e9ranger, \u201cthe national poet.\u201d This\nBonapartism in verse and prose had only one practical aim\u2014the conquest\nof the Rhine provinces. That was the favorite topic of old soldiers and\nthe zealous members of the imperial _entourage_. People of more sense,\nwho were not overscrupulous, resigned themselves to it as a necessity\nof the situation. Ever since 1852, it had been thought there would be\na sudden blow aimed at Belgium or Germany. Was not Austria attacked\nin 1859 without any reason or pretext, and, it may be said, without\na declaration of war, and in violation of all the laws of nations?\nWhen and where did universal suffrage countenance this? Where was it\ndiscussed by the ten million voters? What authority did they give\ntheir representatives? The imperialists and liberals have refused the\nelectors the right which they enjoyed in 1789 to give directions to\nthose they elected. The member represents, then, only himself, though\nindividually he may have been acceptable to his constituents at the\ntime of the election. The elector is not free in his vote, because\nhe does not know his so-called deputy. And these representatives of\nC\u00e6sarism have never been free. No sooner are they nominated, than\nthey forget their orders and electors, and only aim at \u201cthe glory of\nobedience\u201d to C\u00e6sar, like the senators of Tiberius.\n\nLouis Napoleon played to perfection the game of C\u00e6sarism. Conqueror\nor conquered, he always kept a foothold. Victory immortalized him,\nand assured perhaps his son\u2019s future career. And defeat was not to\nbe imputed to him. As the representative of the people, he was only\na passive agent. A docile instrument of the passions and sentiments\nof the people, he sacrificed himself. Did not this entitle him to\nthe gratitude of his fellow-citizens? He regarded the republic as\nless popular than himself, and condemned by universal suffrage.\nBesides, he affected to personify in a supreme degree the republican\nelement. It was not with respect to France he was anxious. He knew\nthat the C\u00e6sarean constitution of France left a sure way always open\nof regaining the throne. It was by foreigners he was overthrown. He\npreferred this fall to the necessity of presiding over new disasters.\nHe was not sorry, either, to see the city of Paris, which of late\nhad been constantly opposed to the empire, and whose enmity daily\nincreased under its liberal laws, chastised by Prussia. King William\nthus effected a _coup d\u2019\u00e9tat_ which did not injure the emperor, and\nmade a return to despotism easier than at the beginning of the empire.\n_La Situation_, the Bonaparte organ at London, insinuated that Prussia\nhad an interest in allying itself with Louis Napoleon, in order to\nreconstruct the map of Europe. And it did not conceal that the neutral\ncountries, Belgium and Holland, were to pay for this reconciliation. In\nthis way, Bonapartism, though apparently crushed, showed signs of life,\nand fostered its hopes. This was a sign it was not morally subdued. It\nwas overcome only to be restored. But the French republic was not in\na condition to restore it, because it confounded itself with it. It\nmust be ascertained if Europe feared Bonapartism or France. Bonapartism\naside, France is now a really peaceful, honest, Christian nation.\nShe has only been formidable since 1789 through the principles of\ndissolution she has carried within herself and diffused abroad by means\nof newspapers, secret societies, and armies.\n\nThe idea of giving Holland to Prussia, and Belgium to France, was\nworthy of Louis Napoleon. Would Europe allow it? Prussia already\npreponderates. France would gain nothing. She could not rise from\nthe inferiority into which she has fallen through late events. The\nhumiliation that C\u00e6sarism has inflicted on our country is not a thing\nof yesterday. Napoleon stated the problem clearly: France must subject\nEurope to revolution, or disappear before a torrent of invasions.\nThese two alternatives have been successively more or less realized.\nThe Restoration gave peace once more to France and to Europe. France,\nregaining her rank, menaced no one, and sustained herself by her\nalliances. She fell again in the Revolution of 1830. Foreign sympathy\nwas withdrawn from us. All the alliances were broken off. The various\ngovernments, stunned by the rebound of the Revolution, stood on their\nguard. The monarchy of July sought to favor revolution moderately\nabroad, and to direct it with skill at home. From that time, Europe\nformed a coalition against us. During the first ten years of the\nRevolution of July, the public mind was disturbed as to the possibility\nof a great war with Germany. The liberal party used every effort to\nbring it on, without any reason certainly, in order to fulfil one\nof the conditions of the revolutionary programme, which is an armed\npropaganda. It was with such views that the fortifications of Paris\nwere conceived by M. Thiers. The equilibrium of Europe was destroyed,\ntherefore, to our sole injury. The empire developed the seeds of\nrevolution sown by the government of July. France descended lower than\nin 1830; she even lost all regard to decency, by giving herself up to\nthe revolutionary current. The distinguished men of talent who devoted\nthemselves to the service of Louis Philippe withdrew from the scene,\nand were replaced by a crowed of nobodies. Assemblies, ministers, and\nemperor entered on such a contradictory course that one might believe\nour country had fallen into its dotage.\n\nThe Mexican war made America aware of our political weakness; and,\nin the East, our diplomacy lost the last remnant of its influence\nby taking a stand apart from Catholicism. The war of 1859 set\nItaly against us\u2014a country so lately governed by princes favorable\nto France. The Italian unity and German unity consigned France to\na secondary rank. Finally, the commercial treaties have made us\nsubservient to England. Thus, in renouncing all idea of conquest,\nLouis Napoleon did not give up disturbing Europe. France served as the\ninstrument of this work, and ended by being the victim. The material\ndisproportion of forces could only produce a catastrophe. Europe was\narming its men, while France, under Louis Napoleon\u2019s direction, was\nplunged in revolutionary metaphysics. It does not require any great\nsagacity, however, to perceive that a revolutionary nation could not be\nin a condition to sustain a conflict with a nation that has remained\ntrue to conservative principles. What could be effected by combining\nall these shattered elements? How could we depend on these bruised\nreeds?\n\nSo rapid a decadence under the influence of anti-social principles\nhas permitted neighboring nations to renounce the traditions that\nbound them to us. The admiration they felt for the superiority of\nour civilization yielded to the fear of falling under a despotism\nas unprincipled as it was senseless. It was from the hotbed of\nBonapartism, the inheritor of revolutionary traditions, that have\nsprung the various revolutions which from 1814 to 1830 ensanguined all\nEurope. The republic of 1848, exhausted in the course of ten months,\nconsigned its stock of revolutionism to Louis Bonaparte. He made it\nyield with usury. Until 1859, he hesitated and felt his way, being\nfettered by public sentiment, which was more conservative and Christian\nthan he could have wished. He skilfully got rid of the honest people\naround him, and, once started, he never stopped again. From that fatal\nperiod, he was no longer his own master: he was the ready tool of the\nRevolution. It is surprising that the Bonapartes are not satisfied with\nreigning over France; they think they have a right to all Europe\u2014a\nright to substitute the sovereignty of the people and elective\ngovernments for all the hereditary monarchies. The mission they claim\nsecures the complicity of all the malcontents. The rulers assuredly\ntake note of all this danger. They understand that their enemy in\nFrance is not France itself, but the Revolution.\n\nThe German Empire rekindles the fears that Louis XIV. inspired and\nNapoleon made us realize. Owing to a remnant of feudalism, it is\nfounded on a much more solid basis than the French Empire was. When\nit attains its utmost limit, there will really be only one power in\nEurope. Even now, no one would think of denying its preponderance.\nThe balance of power can only be preserved by the alliance of the\nsecondary powers\u2014France, Russia, Austria, and England. No one disputes\nthe superiority of Prussia. In order to attain it, it would have been\nsufficient to be preserved during the half-century just elapsed from\nthe revolutions that have so lowered France and Austria. Prussian\nstatesmen labored energetically to unite Germany. By directing the\nmental training in the universities, the secret societies, the press,\nand the diplomacy, they have shown a system and energy that in France\nwould have enabled statesmen of another stamp to bewilder and crush the\ngenius of France, and bring our nation down to the dust. The Napoleonic\nEmpire was one vast treason. It only allured France in order to deliver\nit up to foreigners. By giving her the choice between universal rule\nand annihilation, he placed her in an absurd position, and subjected\nher to certain ruin for the greater glory of Napoleon. It may here be\nremarked that no man ever made a more lavish use than Napoleon of the\nword \u201cglory,\u201d which the pagans so constantly had on their lips. It was\ncomprehensible to people that lived to serve masters who, having all\nthat could gratify pride and power in this world, aspired to glory\nas the supreme recompense. It was under similar circumstances that\nNapoleon and his nephew sought and obtained glory. Their names are\nimperishable. They are connected with catastrophes human memory will\nforever retain. They refused to reign peaceably by fulfilling their\nduties as sovereigns. Rejecting a divine authority, and recognizing\nno higher power, they made use of the people as the instrument of\ntheir passions. One had a passion for conquering Europe, the other\nfor revolutionizing it. And France had to promote these designs, be\ndrained of men under the First Empire, and be revolutionized under\nthe Second, in order that the revolutionary contagion might be spread\nthroughout Europe. War, coming to the aid of this work, led to the\nthird invasion\u2014the crowning achievement of the Third Empire.\n\nThe sole prejudice the French manifest in favor of the empire is that\nit maintained the honor of our army, and restored order. This is only\ntrue with respect to the Revolution. For the Revolution was absolute\ndisorder. And the aim of the empire was not to substitute order for\nrevolution, but to organize the Revolution by making it possible to\nthe vulgar mind. It proved, therefore, wholly incompetent to the work\nof reorganizing society. Napoleon succeeded republican anarchy, and\nwould have left us in it at his downfall, had it not been for the\nHouse of Bourbon, which saved us from foreigners and revolution. The\nnephew likewise succeeded his mother, the republic, whose death he\nhastened. And everybody knows that his natural death at the Tuileries\nwould have been followed by a triumphant republican rising at Paris. He\nmade every preparation for that. The republic of the 4th of September,\n1870, was established almost as a matter of course, without violence,\nwithout noise. The _r\u00e9gente_ had orders not to oppose anything. General\nMontauban declared to all who would listen to him that he should\nonly offer moral resistance to the expected demonstration of the\n4th of September. In fact, after Wissembourg, there was no imperial\ngovernment. That government, then, was anarchical in essence and\nadministrative by accident. It only rose momentarily above anarchy,\nand speedily sank into it again. It dreaded nothing more than a peace\nthat would strengthen institutions, create new influences, and diminish\nC\u00e6sar\u2019s personality. Louis Napoleon was perpetually remodelling the\ndifferent institutions, and without any apparent object. It was in\nthis way he did away even with the traditions of the First Empire, and\nsubjected the army to so many ridiculous experiences.\n\nIt doubtless seems singular\u2014to accuse the uncle and the nephew of\nanarchy, when their putting down anarchy was precisely their title\nto govern France. But anarchy is not the only feature of the empire:\nthere was despotism besides; and with these original principles there\nwas an ingredient of political order which we do not deny. When this\nside of things became apparent, the people threw themselves into the\nemperor\u2019s arms, and hailed him as the saviour of the country. When all\nwas lost, they took hold of the first thing that presented itself. In\nour modern France, the empire and the Napoleons are the only memories\ncapable of fixing every eye and directing every vote at a given moment.\nThe salvage obtained, half the work remains to be accomplished. In the\nlatter part of its task, the empire always fails. Its principles hinder\nit; they only favor order under conditions which prevent its solidity.\nWhy this special hatred kept up by the Bonapartes against the House of\nBourbon? The Bonapartes have nothing against the Bourbons; our kings\nhad long lost their power when the Bonapartes seized it. There is no\npersonal difference between them and the Bourbons. We must look beyond\nto find the connection between the cause and effect. The Bourbons and\nthe Bonapartes are above all that is individual and personal. They\nrepresent two opposite causes. By the intrigues of Louis Napoleon, the\noffshoots of the House of Bourbon have disappeared from the thrones of\nsouthern Europe. They are a living protestation against revolutions.\nThe Bourbons have in vain allied themselves with the revolutionary\nparty, and ruined their own cause; they never succeeded in gaining the\ngood-will of their adversaries, so effectually have their principles,\nwhich they cannot divest themselves of, protected the monarchical\ncause against themselves! The House of Bourbon, in its downfall at\nNaples and Madrid, was elevated by its fall. The dethroned Neapolitan\nking has shown himself more Christian, more kingly, than before he\nfell. The Spanish monarchy, by the mouth of Don Carlos, has expressed\nsentiments truly worthy of a king, and contrasts with the attitude of\nthe elective and liberal king who has just left. The House of Bourbon\nhas been purified by the crucible of revolutions, because, in spite of\nits failings and misfortunes, it represents the principle of right.\nThe Bonapartes remain true to themselves. They do not vary in their\n_r\u00f4le_ or in their pretensions, and remain attached to principles\nirreconcilable with the peace of France and all Europe. The recall of\nthe Bourbons is an European necessity. It will be more easily effected\nwhen the wall of prejudice, which has barred the way, is wholly broken\ndown. This European war had been foreseen from the beginning of the\nempire. Louis Napoleon, in throwing the responsibility of it on France,\nacknowledged that he yielded to the fatality of his position. What\ncould be a more decisive proof, and what other could be wished, that\nthe empire is war? No one in France desired war. Nothing was ready. The\nliberal party curtailed every year the budget of the army. Prussia gave\nus no excuse for aggression; all the _chancelleries_ advised peace. It\nwas then that, a prey to the evil genius of his family, to obsessions\nthat deprived him of sense and foresight, Louis Napoleon made a sudden\nattack on Germany, without looking to see if he was followed, or how he\nwas followed.\n\nOur fault was in not being ready, say the Bonapartists. That is an\nillusion. At no price could the empire have been ready. The military\norganization, weakened by perpetual changes, the corruption and lack\nof discipline diffused among the soldiers and under-officers by means\nof the public journals and secret societies, the limited resources\navailable under a system which affected a kind of communism in the\ncivil order, and constantly encroached on future supplies, rendered\nreform impossible. Everything set aside the thought of attempting\nit. The budget paid 400,000 men, and our army did not really exceed\n200,000! A reform in France on the Prussian model would have required\nseveral years and the overthrow of all our modern institutions.\nCan we imagine, with the other expenditures of our budget, eight\nhundred millions more for the army? Prussia has been half a century\nin achieving its present organization. Germany has its gradation of\nranks and classes. A numerous nobility forms the basis of its military\ninstitutions, and furnishes, in time of war as well as peace, the\nnatural leaders of the whole nation. And we Frenchmen\u2014we are still\nunder the elective system, which is that of children at their sports.\nLeaders who are improvised remain necessarily without authority, unless\nthey have been prepared for their _r\u00f4le_ by their previous life. Our\nmilitary organization corresponds to our social organization: and it is\nthe empire, a military _r\u00e9gime_, but also a Saint-Simonian _r\u00e9gime_,\nthat has co-operated actively in the military dissolution of France. It\nwas by being mixed with Saint-Simonism that it returned to the extreme\nnotions of 1789 and 1793. This socialism that was to sustain the empire\nagainst the clergy, the conservative party, and the republicans, did it\nweigh one ounce in his favor? At the first reverse, all the socialism\nin authority disappeared. And Louis Napoleon has had no adversaries\nmore implacable than all these socialists whom he fed, and who are\nmaking up for their former servility by their present abuse.\n\nWe must not weary of meditating on these words: France fights for an\nidea. This idea, under various names, is the Revolution, socialism, and\nthe principles of 1789. Louis Philippe, that emperor on a small scale,\nand that \u201cbest of republics,\u201d pursued the same crooked way. He classed\nhis wars and foreign intrigues under the mild term of \u201cliberalism.\u201d\nHe propagated in his way, by the assistance of the Assemblies, the\nprinciples of the Revolution. He gradually but persistently violated\nthe treaties of 1815, which had put an end to twenty-five years of\nsocial war in Europe. It was in violation of these treaties that he\nascended the throne. He interfered in Belgium in the name of the\nRevolution; he aided greatly in the downfall of the Bourbons of Spain;\nhe occupied Ancona, in spite of the Holy See, and indicated a course\nto Gregory XVI. that was identical with the terms of Louis Napoleon\u2019s\nletter to Edgar Ney. Finally, less Catholic than M. Guizot, he\napplauded the ruin of the Sonderbund, and refused Prince von Metternich\nthe support of France in protecting the interests of the smaller\ncantons, our friends and ancient allies. By his inaction, he favored\nthe revolutionary cause when he did not serve it with his forces.\nThe revolutionary triumph at Berne soon extended to Paris, and Louis\nPhilippe had to withdraw more speedily than he came. He propagated\nrevolutionism in Europe during the whole course of his reign, with less\ndisplay than Louis Napoleon, but with as much perversity. Certainly,\nneither Prussia, nor Austria, nor Russia were deceived as to the\ncause and tendency of the Revolution of 1830. They protested in vain.\nEngland alone took sides with Louis Philippe: thence the subserviency\nof our policy to that of England. Louis Philippe made the most of that\nally of the Revolution: through party spirit, he sacrificed even the\ninterest and honor of France. We recognize there the soldier of 1789,\nthe former usher of the Jacobin club. And Louis Napoleon, for the same\ncause, humiliated himself more profoundly. He put his ministers, his\nassemblies, his diplomacy, our commerce, and our industries at the\nfeet of England. And he certainly was not ignorant that England would\nnever send him a shilling or a man. But he knew that England protected\nrevolution on the Continent. He bound her to the revolutionary cause\nby the Crimean war and the commercial treaty. England powerfully\nseconded it in Italy and Spain. It was Bonapartism that English policy\nhas developed even while thinking it was making use of it. Coming\nevents will tell whether England has not, by violating her traditions,\nhastened a decline already evident and even alarming.\n\nIt is possible that, by rejecting the pretended English alliance,\nwhich was never anything but a lure, France would have been forced to\ncloser relations with the Continent, and to conform to the European\nlaw of nations, which would have saved Europe from great calamities.\nThe sovereigns, then, have some interest in withdrawing France from\nEnglish complicity. The Restoration alone understood the practice of\nFrench policy, and alone maintained a firm attitude with respect to\nEngland. Its whole policy, interior as well as exterior, was national\nand uninfluenced by England. The conquest of Algiers was the most\nbrilliant result of that policy. The Restoration made successful wars,\nand wars Europe had no reason to complain of; for they were carried on\nwith the consent of the powers, and to re-establish the law of nations\nsettled by the treaties of 1815. Such was the character of the war\nwith Spain in 1823. Peace reigned then among all the great powers of\nthe Continent, and it was solely to the House of Bourbon it was owing;\nthat house overthrown, a spirit of revolt broke out on all sides, and\nmade thrones totter. What profit did France derive from it? Condemning\nherself by her institutions to perpetual war, France pronounced her own\nsentence of death. She conquered under Napoleon only by the ability of\nher leader, when she found herself contending with one or two nations.\nShe successively defeated each of her enemies. At length her armies\nwere made up of recruits from every country in Europe; she incorporated\nthe vanquished through the same policy as ancient Rome. It was an army\ncomposed of soldiers from all parts of Europe that Napoleon led into\nRussia. The disaster of 1812 freed Germany. Then, for the first time,\na serious coalition was arranged, and Napoleon was defeated by the\ncombined forces in 1813, 1814, and 1815. Louis Napoleon attacked Russia\nand Austria separately. He isolated Prussia from the great powers, but\nhis policy of nationality brought on German unity. And it was the whole\nof Germany that confronted him when he merely wished to confront the\nKing of Prussia. The King of Prussia, had he been defeated, would have\nappealed to the Emperor of Austria and the czar, who would not have\nfailed him. Our revolutionary tendencies will always draw a coalition\nupon us. The late events have weakened the revolutionary party in\nEurope to such a degree that the support it offered us, and on which\nwe relied, will be of no more avail. Europe, surprised by the outburst\nof 1789, yielded to our arms for twenty years. She then united, and,\nimitating the imperial military policy, carried it to a degree of\nperfection that left us behind. What remains for France and all Europe\nbut to agree in re-establishing peace by conformity of political\nprinciples? And in 1873, as in 1815, this peace depends solely on the\nrecall of the House of Bourbon to France. It is to this work that\nEurope is invited if she does not wish to perpetuate a revolution\nwhich, after ruining France, will not leave one of the great powers\nstanding.\n\nThe French Revolution has till now been the object of public attention.\nPrinces and people have bestirred themselves for a century to oppose\nor sustain it. The inability of the principles of 1789 to establish\nanything, and the invasion of 1870, have opened the eyes of France, and\nbetter disposed it to make terms with Europe henceforth. But beside the\nFrench Revolution, now growing powerless, rises a political element\nthat suddenly overawes and disturbs European equilibrium. A policy\nof defence and preservation ought to be directed against the Empire\nof Germany, not to destroy it, but to guarantee the safety of other\ngovernments by a general alliance and a new law of nations. France\nwill never declare war against Europe again. Louis Napoleon is the\nlast to make such a challenge. Personally, there was nothing warlike\nin him; but he represented a system that tends to war. To him this war\nwas an amusement, a distraction. To divert himself by a general war,\nin order to escape for a moment from national affairs that perplexed\nhim! The diversion was powerful; as well blow out one\u2019s brains to\ndrive away _ennui_. The mass of the French people did not participate\nin the madness of the Bonaparte system: they are victims as well as\nEurope. Only we have come to that phase of the system which is more\nparticularly humiliating to France. The three great allied powers of\nthe North have nothing more to fear from France. But this alliance of\nthe North is no longer on terms of equality. We say great powers! There\nis now but one great power\u2014Germany. And she necessarily threatens\nAustria and Russia by her military strength and by her expansive power,\nthrough her hardy and laborious race, that is filling the United\nStates with swarms of colonizers, extending to the neighboring Sclave\ncountries in Russia, and putting forth its shoots even on French soil.\nGerman preponderance will pursue its course. It is not universal\nrule, but a preponderance that will tend to it, unless a union of the\nsecondary powers oppose it with a strong, resisting force. Germany\nherself will not be wanting in prudence. Her reign will last its time;\nit is sure of only a short triumph. In twenty-five years, Russia, in\nconsequence of the progress of science and industry, will be able to\nsubjugate Germany. Germany will then have need of France.\n\nBy a law of Providence, nations that rise from an uncertain beginning\nseem to attain their height suddenly, and almost as speedily begin to\ndecline. We Frenchmen have had our day of power and glory in the middle\nages. The age of Louis XIV. was our era of intellectual superiority and\npolitical preponderance. We have come down from that pinnacle; there is\nno denying it. Germany, by its material strength, is rising far above\nthe point we attained. England, France, Russia, and Austria no longer\nhave any influence, by their diplomacy and alliances, over the hundreds\nof petty princes and peoples that constituted the German Confederation.\nThey are shut out of Germany. Any pretension to interference would\nmake them a laughing-stock. All these powers, Russia excepted, have\npursued a foolish policy, and are receiving the recompense due to\ntheir shrewdness. Inheritor of Richelieu, the French Revolution so\ndisturbed Germany as to overthrow all its princes. The German nation\nhas survived, and by the concentration of its unity has acquired\na power of aggression and conquest it was incapable of under its\nformer organization. The Revolution of 1789 resulted in the immediate\nelevation of England, which from the third rank rose almost to the\nfirst\u2014a rank she would still have, had she not replaced the policy\nof Pitt and Burke by the policy of Lord Palmerston and his followers.\nLouis Napoleon created the Empire of Germany, but England applauded his\ncourse. All her statesmen have rejoiced in the humiliation of France\nthat has resulted from it. Those debaters and merchants have advocated\nthe establishment of an immense military empire in the heart of Europe,\nwithout perceiving that peaceful and industrious England would thereby\nlose its influence. She is destined to decline still further. Her\ninfluence on the Continent depended on the old balance of power, and\npreponderated through her alliance with Austria. In 1859, she betrayed\nAustria, and shamefully disavowed the treaties of 1815. Austria turned\nto Russia, or to Prussia, or to both at once.\n\nThe old kingdoms, the historic nations, are breaking in pieces. In\nreality, it is the Prussian Empire that has been founded, rather than\nthe German Empire restored. Germany retains enough of Catholic life\nto give her a tone of moral and intellectual grandeur that render her\nsuperior to Russia and the United States. There is nothing to disturb\nher but the future, and a future not far distant, if the people of\nSouthern Europe continue to abandon themselves to revolutionary\nprinciples. We are far from believing that France can never rise\nagain. She rose after 1815: the same causes produce the same effects.\nWhat concerns Europe is that France will never resume her _r\u00f4le_ of\nagitator. Bonapartism is still powerful. It prevails through the habits\nand necessities which concentrate and direct the whole political,\nmoral, and mental activity of France. This storm over, the name of\nNapoleon will again disturb the public mind, and unite the suffrage.\nThe republic of 1870 is dragging along in the old beaten track of\nimperialism. It has merely set up the men of 1848 or 1830\u2014old,\nworn-out functionaries, whose incapacity has increased rather than\ndiminished. It is time for a reaction against childish prejudices. The\nmotto of the liberal school is: Revolution and Progress! It is well\nto know that a revolution is, etymologically speaking, a turn back.\nOur liberals cling to the days of 1789. In a few years, they will be a\ncentury behindhand. France rapidly rose from her helplessness of 1815\nto the Spanish war of 1823, and the conquest of Algiers. Then a fatal\nrevolution arrested its progress, and it fell back to a state bordering\non that of \u201889. Louis Philippe kept us in subjection eighteen years.\nHe was overthrown by the socialism which he restrained, but which\nwith a bound returned to the theories of \u201893 in the name of progress!\nThese sudden relapses disorganize and destroy the social machine.\nThe Restoration alone was successful, because it was the regular\ngovernment. The House of Bourbon is able to give interior peace to\nFrance. It is not the government of a party, for it does not derive its\ntitle from the popular vote. It appeals to the conscience and reason\nlike a natural law and a national necessity. It has no other ambition\nbut to make France once more a Christian kingdom by ensuring the\ngeneral peace of Europe on the basis of a new public law. What great\npower will dare refuse her its aid, when so strongly interested in the\nsame cause?\n\n\n\n\nENGLISH DOMESTIC FESTIVITIES.\n\nBY AN ENGLISH CATHOLIC.\n\n\nMEDI\u00c6VAL England was the home of merriment and the scene of all manner\nof family festivals and athletic rejoicings. Heir to the old Norse\ntraditions of Yule-tide, she preserved the spirit of innocent and manly\nsport better perhaps than those less hardy and more polished lands of\nthe Mediterranean whose pleasures were mostly such as could be enjoyed\nfrom the vantage-point of a balcony, and the soft resting-place of a\ngilded ottoman. In England, the national pleasures are pleasures of\naction as well as of sight; and, even in those specially destined to\ncommemorate the glories of an ancient feudal family, the members of\nthe family do not recline in luxurious ease, patronizingly looking on\nat the feasts provided to do them honor, but mingle with the people,\nshare in their games, and compete for prizes with the rest. This it\nis that distinguishes English festivities from any other, and stamps\nthem with an individuality which in the sequel has no little political\nsignificance. The sister countries share in this attribute of hearty\ngood-fellowship among classes, and indeed what is here said of England\nmay be said interchangeably of Scotland and Ireland.\n\nStill, things are not done in our day in precisely the same lavish\nand baronial way that was common in Tudor times, and a revival of\nthis generous style of entertainment, though not infrequent, cannot\nbe called other than a rarity. This certainly enhances the interest\nattaching to one of these social relics of the past; and the great\npageant two years ago at S. Paul\u2019s Cathedral, London, in thanksgiving\nfor the recovery of the heir to the throne, was perhaps the most\nbrilliant and successful modern attempt to revive the glories of\nEngland\u2019s \u201cgolden age\u201d; but yet, in some measure, more individuality\nattaches to country _f\u00eates_ than even to such a national event as the\n\u201cThanksgiving Procession.\u201d\n\nThen, too, they are so little known beyond the rural neighborhood\nin which they occur that to us across the ocean they come as fresh\nrevelations of the inner structure\u2014social, political, and domestic\u2014of\nthe great mother country, whose language is now that of the greater\nhalf of the civilized world. Such a festival is also rendered still\nmore interesting in our eyes when it takes place in a Catholic family,\nunder Catholic auspices, and is pervaded with the broad spirit\nof Catholic generosity. The best days of \u201cmerrie\u201d were those of\n\u201cCatholic\u201d England, and the national character, now universally known\nas the British\u2014_i.e._, moroseness and gloom of disposition\u2014is wholly\na graft of the unhappy Lutheran Rebellion. Unquestionably, the most\nEnglish domestic festival, the most characteristic, and the aptest to\nexhibit Englishmen of all ranks and stations in their best aspect, is\na \u201cComing of Age.\u201d This is celebrated on the twenty-first anniversary\nof the birth of the heir to a large property, and is essentially an\noutgrowth of the institution of primogeniture.\n\nIn the instance of which we speak, the festival took place in a\nCatholic house, on the estate of the largest land-owner of one of the\nmidland counties of England. There was a large family gathering bidden\nfrom all parts of the country; relatives of all denominations met in\nperfect peace and friendship round the board of the Catholic head\nof their house; there were clergymen and government clerks, married\nsisters with large families, old aunts in sufficiently quaint costume,\nyoung lawyers, parliamentary men, soldiers and sailors, some with\nyears of service behind them, some with their spurs yet to win; in\nfact, each generation, from that of \u201cpowder and patches\u201d down to that\nof the nursery of to-day, was impartially and favorably represented.\nThe house, a large, roomy Tudor building, was still too small to\naccommodate all the guests, and the lodges and even the inns of the\nneighborhood, had to be put into requisition. When we drove through\nthe park on Tuesday evening, 10th of October, 18\u2014, the first thing\nthat struck us was seeing moving lights in front of the house; and,\nour carriage being suddenly stopped, we found that the lights were\ncarried by E\u2014\u2014 and the servants to prevent our being shipwrecked upon\ntent-ropes and poles! By that dim light, we discerned the outline of\nthe immense tent run out from the end window of the drawing-room; and,\nas we looked at the preparations, the work really seemed as if carried\non by fairies, so quickly and perfectly was it accomplished. The place\nwas looking lovely; some of the beautiful trees were just touched with\nthe first tints of scarlet and gold, others still fresh and green. At\nthe east end of the Terrace Garden is a very handsome stone balustrade,\nbetween the flower-garden and the straight walk leading to the old\nHall (a ruined house, once the family mansion, and now standing in the\ngrounds as a picturesque ornament, and also a convenient place for\nschool entertainments, servants\u2019 dances, etc.) \u201cTo any prosaic mind,\u201d\nsaid a friend of ours, \u201cthere is always great amusement in watching\nwork of any kind; and the object for which all was going on gave me\nsuch a real interest in it that I do not think any one entered more\nfully than I did into even the minutest details of preparation.\u201d Lord\nG\u2014\u2014, the owner of the house, and the father of the young recipient\nof these patriarchal honors, gave Captain W\u2014\u2014 _carte blanche_ about\nmany little things, and was so kindly pleased with every endeavor: all\nthe people worked with _such_ eagerness and good-will. Old Philip (a\ngarrulous old carpenter who knows the family history far better than\nthe family itself!) and Captain W\u2014\u2014 made fast friends in no time.\nThe entrance tent became in a few days very pretty\u2014lined with scarlet\nand white, the floor covered with red, marble tables at the sides; and\nat one end on a table was placed Lord G\u2014\u2014\u2019s bust, and a pier-glass\nbehind it, the two corners of the tent at each side being filled with\nplants of variegated foliage. Just opposite the entrance was hung the\nlarge picture of the _f\u00eate_ at Fort Henry when Lord G\u2014\u2014 came of age\n(thirty or more years ago); and very quaint indeed are the costumes and\nmost charming the \u201cbonnets\u201d of the \u201cperiod\u201d; but we were assured by\nPhilip they were all perfect likenesses! There were light chandeliers\nsuspended from the roof, which had a fine effect even in daytime, and\nsofas were placed round the walls, so that one only felt what a pity\nit would be when such a pretty entrance hall would be demolished! At\none end was the entrance, and the passage to the front door, all filled\nwith flowers. Much fun went on whilst all these things were being\nplaced, and some even said the preparations would be the best part of\nall.\n\nThe hero of the festivities himself arrived a day or two after us.\nBeing in the army, as are most young men of good prospects in England,\nhe had hitherto been away with his regiment, and only obtained leave\nof absence for this occasion. He seemed delightfully happy, but most\nnaturally, not excitedly; and throughout the whole no one could be more\nunaffected or unspoilt by being the one object of all these rejoicings.\nWhere many a young man might have shown himself over-elated, he was\nexactly himself, happy and cheerful, but quiet, calm, and always\nself-possessed. When all the preparations were finished, nothing\ncould be more beautiful. It is not too much to say that they were\nprincely, yet all was in perfect taste and keeping\u2014nothing of vain\nshow and ostentation, thoroughly refined, and so truly represented by\nthe word which to our mind conveys the highest praise, _gentlemanly_;\nabove all, everything was arranged for the happiness and rejoicing of\nothers, of high and low, of rich and poor, and nothing overlooked which\ncould gratify the feelings of participants. On each of the different\napproaches to the house, the banners, placed at different distances\non each side of the drives, had a beautiful effect, as well as the\nlarger flags on the house, on the old Hall, on the church-tower; and\nthese brilliant colors were set off by the more varied and almost\nequally rich tints of the trees. On Monday (the 16th October), the\nfestivities began in earnest. The first act was our all going directly\nafter breakfast up to the old Hall to see the gigantic cask of\n21-years-old ale opened, and, as in duty bound, to taste the ale to\nCharlie\u2019s health. The universal custom in England of brewing a large\nquantity of the very best ale the year an heir is born, and keeping it\nuntouched until the day he comes of age, when the cask is broached and\ndistributed in prudently moderate quantities to the guests and tenants,\nis of very ancient origin, and is most religiously adhered to. Another\ncustom is that of planting an oak-tree near the house the year of the\nheir\u2019s birth, to commemorate the event, and the sapling is always\ncalled after its human foster-brother. This tapping the ale was like\nreading a page out of some memoir of former times, and reminded us of\nthe stories of Sir Walter Scott.\n\nThe cavernous cellar in which stand the mysterious casks, the ivy-grown\nruin overhead, the brawny men opening the family treasures, and serving\nas rustic cup-bearers to the guests, all made a thorough old-time\npicture. Some of the party, after this ceremony was over, left us to go\nto the first village feast, the prototype\u2014a description of which will\nequally fit all the others. There are seven villages on the estates,\nand each felt itself entitled to a separate local entertainment.\nRidlington, which supplies the family with one of its many titles, was\nthe first to experience its lord\u2019s hospitality.\n\nThe feast consisted of an abundant supply of meat, ale, and cakes\nfor men, women, and children alike, with games on the village green,\nraces for simple prizes, such as articles of useful clothing, etc. The\ngreased pole formed the chief attraction for the men and boys, and of\ncourse was productive of the greatest merriment, through the harmless\naccidents to which it inevitably exposes the candidates for the honors\nof successful climbing. During the repast, speeches were freely made\nand healths proposed, every one much alike, but all interesting,\nthrough the hearty reciprocity of feeling evinced between landlord\nand tenant. Returning home, the host and his daughters prepared to\nreceive their unexpected guests, the greater number of whom were to\nassemble that evening. Our \u201cprosaic-minded\u201d friend here interposed a\ncharacteristic comment, in these words: \u201cWhen the influx of guests\ntook place about six o\u2019clock that same evening, you may conceive the\nfeelings of the \u2018family aunt\u2019 descending the stairs before dinner,\nas if one of the pictures had stepped out of its frame to mix in\nsuch a crowd of strangers, for such are almost all to me!\u201d As the\ndrawing-rooms were dismantled in preparation for the ball, there was\nonly the oak corridor to sit in, and it must be confessed it required\nsome tact to find seats; whilst, of course, all the men crowded\ntogether, English fashion, under the staircase! Capt. W\u2014\u2014 acquired\nthe name of \u201cmaster of the ceremonies,\u201d as he and E\u2014\u2014 (one of our\nyoung hostesses) drew up the order of march to dinner, and he was\ndeputed to tell every one who to take\u2014rather puzzling in an assemblage\nscarcely one of whom he had ever seen before. The \u201cweighty\u201d matter of\nEnglish precedence in such a company is more important than any one\nwould suppose; and we cannot wonder that such social punctiliousness\nshould raise a smile among people of simpler though not less generous\nhabits.\n\nThe dinner was a most elaborate affair; indeed, in England, it is\nalways the crowning portion of any entertainment, and the test of a\ngenuine social success. The table looked beautiful with the massive\nsilver plate: the \u00e9pergne representing a herd of stags (the white\nstag is Lord G\u2014\u2014\u2019s crest) feeding under a spreading oak; the vases\nof classical shape, formerly wine-coolers, but now, more congenially\nto modern refinement, filled with ferns or plants of colored foliage,\ncontrasting with the frosted silver; flowers and fruit in utopian\nabundance, and every vase or dish raised on a stand of crimson\nvelvet, in artistic relief against the delicate white damask of the\ntable-cloth\u2014and this, of course, every day the same. Among the guests\nwe may pause a moment to mention a lady of whom a stranger to her\ngave this characteristic description: saying that she was nicely but\nquietly dressed, had large, soft eyes, an intelligent expression, and\na thoughtful look. She was certainly the most interesting and the\ncleverest person of the company, if the inward history of a mind is to\ncount more than its outward covering. Suffice it to say that a few of\nthose present knew how to appreciate her, especially a clergyman of\nthe neighborhood noted for his historical researches and antiquarian\nlearning\u2014the Rev. G. H. Hill. Among those whom social reticence does\nnot forbid us to distinguish by name was also an architect of rare\nmerit, under whose supervision part of the building had been erected\u2014a\nman whose mind is thoroughly artistic, and whose name, already the\nproperty of the public, we need therefore not hesitate to give\u2014Mr.\nC. Buckler. His testimony, characteristic as it must be, will not\nbe inappropriate in this sketch; of the whole festival he could say\nwith truth, as he did in a charming letter to his patron and host,\nthat it was thoroughly medi\u00e6val in spirit. This is high praise in\nthe mouth of an Englishman and an artist; for our national pride is\ninseparably woven with feudal and ancestral feelings, an admiration for\nthe open-handed generosity and lavish display of baronial times\u2014for\neverything, in a word, that made England a fit nurse for Shakespeare,\nand an ideal for Washington Irving.\n\nIf our readers are not weary of pen-portraits, here is one\u2014that of the\ndaughter of the lady we have just spoken of, which our dear old friend,\nthe \u201coften-quoted,\u201d thus incisively draws: \u201cShe is a pretty little\nthing, with a very white skin, delicate wild-rose color, and very\nbright and large eyes, and as much as possible keeping close to her\nmother\u2019s side, but evidently fond of dancing, and enjoying everything\nwith perfect freshness.\u201d We are pleased to notice here that this type\nof the English girl is not so defunct as some pessimists would have us\nbelieve, and that, despite paint and fastness, and the clumsy imitation\nof Parisian vice, there is yet in store for the future a generation\nof homeloving wives and mothers. Of another of the near relations of\nthe host, our friend says: \u201cIt suffices to mention Lady L\u2014\u2014\u2019s name\nto express all that is bright, and kind, and good; her presence was\na charm, but she was obliged to go away after two days, and it was a\nblank not to see her.\u201d\n\nThis woman, whose social charm is so irresistible, is none the less a\ngenerous and devoted attendant on a husband whose mind had given way,\nand whose health was more than precarious; it was his comfort, indeed,\nwhich was the cause of her short stay in the house of rejoicing.\n\nThe great charm of this thoroughly pleasant gathering was that there\nwere no \u201cgrand people,\u201d no \u201cfashionable people,\u201d no \u201cfast people\u201d; that\nall were natural and real, and everybody seemed pleased and happy. But\nour \u201cprosaic\u201d friend actually was not satisfied, and complained gently\nof the disappointment, among so many young people, of not being able to\nidealize any incipient romance; for, she queried, \u201cwould it not have\nthrown a charm of poetry over the whole thing?\u201d\n\nNo, truly, although the thought is touching and pretty; for, after all,\nthe fairest ideal of love could not live in a crowd, and the love we\nread of in Elizabethan records was more courtly than deep, more gallant\nthan true. Love is an angel, not a Cupid.\n\nOne evening, there was a ball for the county families, many of whose\nhouses were filled with their own circle of friends, all of whom were\nincluded in the invitations. The rooms looked gay and brilliant;\ntoilets were resplendent, and the family pictures, with which the walls\nwere literally covered, gazed down on an assemblage almost as bright as\ntheir own. In the hall was a white stuffed stag, with hoofs and antlers\ngilt, representing in life-size the family crest. The next morning,\nbreakfast _began_ at the usual hour (ten), but few appeared; but, by\ntwo o\u2019clock, they gradually stole down, when tea and coffee had given\nplace to luncheon. Wednesday evening, there was the servants\u2019 ball.\nEvery one went into the large tent, which made a splendid ball-room.\nThe dancing was rather amusing to watch, for it was not the _forte_\nof the assemblage; but they all looked very happy, and the dignity of\ntheir manners to each other was quite edifying! Still, we thought it a\ngreat shame to criticise. Thursday, there was the feast for other and\nnearer villages, Exton, Barrow, and Cottesmore, with games before the\npeople sat down. And it was a goodly sight when all the tables were\npeopled; all the men at dinner, and all the women and children at tea.\nLord G\u2014\u2014\u2019s health was drunk first. It was the first occasion on which\nhe had to speak, and it utterly overcame him; for he alluded to the\nformer time when they had all been thus assembled to welcome him to\nE\u2014\u2014 on his accession to the title. But the warmth and heartiness with\nwhich his few words were received must surely have pleased him. Then\nthey drank his son\u2019s health, to which toast the young man responded\nmodestly and well. Later on in the evening, there were beautiful\nfireworks, which lit up the whole place most gorgeously.\n\nFireworks are not a specialty with Englishmen, but on this occasion\nthey really went off to the credit of all concerned. The host has had\nlong experience in such things in Italy, where the merest village can\nshame London itself on this head. The clusters of Chinese lanterns\namong the trees bordering the drives, the Bengal lights shooting up in\nfitful illuminations across the broken front of the church tower and\nthe old Hall, the steadier lamps along the lines of the house itself,\nand the reflection of all in the many little lakes within the grounds,\nmade the display peculiarly attractive. Every one enjoyed it to the\nuttermost.\n\nFriday, the 20th of October, the heir\u2019s birthday, was _the_ day, _par\nexcellence_. And here we are reminded that we are among those who\nhave returned to the faith of old England, and have brought back to\nthe original giver of the great free institutions of the country\u2014the\nCatholic Church\u2014all the gifts of intellect, education, culture,\nand learning drawn from her alienated universities and the polished\ninfluence of her errant sons. A solemn High Mass, with appropriate\necclesiastical music, was the first interest that gathered the guests\ntogether. Many not of our faith were there, joining reverently,\nand as far as they could, in the beautiful service; the domestic\nchapel, almost in size a church, looked very fair in the pale morning\nlight that streamed through its pointed windows; the shadows of the\nbeech-leaves, turning to brown and gold, were thrown fitfully across\nthe Lady Chapel, against whose outside walls the great tree almost\nleans; bars of dusky golden light lay on the stone floor of the\nmemorial chapel, where the foundress sleeps; and, as the white-robed\nchoristers and acolytes moved softly to and fro in the deep choir,\nthe beautiful contrast seemed to force itself upon one\u2019s imagination\nbetween them and the worshippers in the nave, clad in dark, quiet\ndraperies, and massed together in shadowy corners\u2014typifying so\ndelicately the restful life of the future, and the toiling watch\nstill to be kept in the present. From this, the most congenial and\nappropriate scene we had yet witnessed, we turned regretfully to\nthe new pleasures of the day. The first event was very momentous,\nand was marked by great state, being no less than the presentation\nof a silver inkstand to the young hero of the _f\u00eate_, Lord C\u2014\u2014,\nfrom the servants. All the household was drawn up at one end of the\nentrance-tent. Poor good Mrs. H\u2014\u2014, the housekeeper, whom nearly\ntwenty years\u2019 service had made a mother to the host\u2019s children, was\nquite unable to restrain her tears, while behind the large round table,\nwith the inkstand on it, stood J\u2014\u2014, the butler, _pale_ with the\nresponsibility of his coming speech. Lord C\u2014\u2014 stood opposite, with\nthe family and guests behind him. This was the most touching scene of\nall, but none the less the most formidable ceremony. The presentation\nwas very creditably made, and as gracefully acknowledged, to the equal\nsatisfaction of all parties; and, among the birthday gifts, none was\nso valued by the recipient. He had grown up among these old friends;\nthe few who had not known him as a boy had heard the tales of his\nchildhood, and experienced the kindness of his manner. All felt as if\nhe belonged to them, and as though his interests were theirs. This\nfeeling, too, is one of the relics of the past fast disappearing from\nthe heartless fabric of modern society; and it is pleasant to see\ntraces of it yet left here and there in the ancient baronial households\nof England.\n\nThe concluding festivity was on a gigantic scale, and proved the\nmost characteristic of any. This was the grand ball and supper to\nthe tenants, which furnished the local newspapers with materials for\nrapturous descriptions and complimentary \u201cleaders\u201d for at least a\nweek afterwards. The entrance tent was lined with the officers of\nthe yeomanry in full uniform (scarlet), to the number of eighteen or\ntwenty; the band of their regiment was also in attendance, and the\nland-steward, to whose management much had been entrusted, introduced\neach party of the tenants as they arrived. Nearly five hundred of these\ncharacteristic guests were soon assembled, Lord G\u2014\u2014, his daughters,\nand two sons dancing in turn with all the most prominent of them. The\nball opened with a country-dance; not the formal quadrille, but the\nhearty, old-fashioned performance, in which the elderly and heavy\nare as comfortably at home as the young and the supple. The ball,\nhowever, brilliant as it was, was but secondary to the supper, which\nwas the crowning-point of the week\u2019s doings\u2014the occasion, long looked\nforward to, of pleasant and witty speeches, of hearty good-will, and\nof manifestations of real and substantial friendship. To borrow the\nwords of a weekly of the neighborhood, the Lincolnshire _Chronicle_:\n\u201cAt one o\u2019clock, supper was served in the marquee, which, tastefully\ndecorated, brilliantly lighted, and filled with the gaily attired\ncompany, presented a scene which will not soon be forgotten by those\nwho had the pleasure of witnessing it. The yeomanry band played \u2018The\nRoast Beef of Old England\u2019 as the party glided into the tent, and, when\nall had taken their places, grace was said. With the exception of a\nbuck roasted whole and sent to table with gilt antlers, the whole of\nthe viands were cold, the _pi\u00e8ce de r\u00e9sistance_ being a splendid baron\nof beef. The birthday cake occupied a prominent position at a centre\ntable, and among other novelties was a fine peacock in full plumage.\nJust before the toast of the evening was given, the beautiful present\nof plate purchased by the tenantry was carried in and placed in front\nof the young Lord C\u2014\u2014, on the principal table.\u201d \u201cWhen all were\nseated,\u201d says another local paper, \u201cthe _coup d\u2019\u0153il_, from the entrance\nof the tent, was very striking; the gay uniforms of the yeomanry, and\nthe dresses of the ladies, combined with the colored lining of the\ntent, the numerous flags and banners, and the innumerable chandeliers\nfilled with wax candles, presenting a very brilliant effect. The Earl\nof G\u2014\u2014 and his distinguished visitors were seated at a long raised\ntable facing the guests of the evening, and immediately in front of\nhim were two other raised tables, upon one of which was a baron of\nbeef weighing between 30 and 40 stone, and a whole roasted buck. There\nwere also 21 joints of roast beef, 15 of pressed beef, 17 galantines\nof veal, 24 game pies, 14 large hams, 28 tongues, 15 turkeys, 8 boars\u2019\nheads, 15 rounds of beef, 10 legs and 14 shoulders of mutton, 72 roast\nfowls, 54 pheasants, 62 partridges, 20 plum-puddings, etc. etc., making\na total of 1,000 dishes.\u201d\n\nThe speeches being the great characteristic incident of the feast,\nwe will quote some parts of them, showing in their simple energy\nhow close the ties of friendship still are between the owner and\nthe tiller of the soil. Some of the speakers were farmers, most of\nthem prosperous and pushing men. We take our quotations from the\nLincolnshire _Chronicle_: \u201cMr. Berridge proposed the health of the\nEarl of G\u2014\u2014 as a nobleman, a neighbor, and a friend.... The noble\nearl had inherited from his ancestors that military blood which always\nran through the veins of the N\u2014\u2014ls [the family name of Lord G\u2014\u2014].\nIf they looked round these halls, they would see the portrait of many\nan old warrior.... He understood Lord C\u2014\u2014 now belonged to the army,\nand he would express a wish that that young nobleman might one day be\ncommander-in-chief of England (cheers). Speaking of the family, he was\nreminded of an anecdote. A friend of his was taking a drive through\nthe lanes in the neighborhood of this house, when he came in view of\nthe mansion, and said to an old laborer he met on the road: \u2018Who lives\nhere, my man?\u2019 \u2018Lord G\u2014\u2014,\u2019 was the reply. \u2018Is it an old family?\u2019 was\nthe next inquiry. \u2018They came here, sir, before the Flood,\u2019 was the\nresponse (laughter and cheers).\u201d\n\nThis _na\u00efvet\u00e9_ of the old man reminds one of the proud boast of some\nold French family, that they had an ark of their own at the time of the\nFlood, and were quite independent of Noe and his ship of refuge!\n\nLord G\u2014\u2014, in his earnest reply, gracefully alluded in the following\nwords to the long tenure of land by the farmers\u2019 ancestors: \u201cThere can\nbe nothing more gratifying than the existence of cordial good feeling\nbetween the occupiers of land and their landlords; and there can be\nno better evidence of this happy state of things than to find, upon\nreference to records of the past, numbers of families living upon the\nsame estate for generations\u2014for a longer time, perhaps, than the\nowners of the estate themselves (hear, hear). I believe there are many\npeople here whose ancestors have been for centuries upon this property;\nand one can only hope that the same families, from father to son, may\ncontinue here for centuries hereafter, and that what has happened\nin years past will be repeated in years to come, so that, by your\ndescendants and the descendants of my son a long time hence, the same\nmutual good feeling may be evinced and similar occurrences be witnessed\nas these we celebrate this evening.\u201d\n\nLord D\u2014\u2014, an early friend of the host, proposed the health of the\nyoung recipient of the day\u2019s honors. His speech, quite the best of all,\nis worthy of notice. After a very apt and graceful beginning, he said:\n\u201cI am speaking to tenant-farmers and breeders of stock, and you know\nthat, when you look upon a young animal, you always inquire after his\nsire\u2014what he came from (laughter and cheers); and you judge, from what\nhas been, what will be (renewed cheering). But you know what the N\u2014\u2014s\nare\u2014what their stock is (great cheering). They have lived in this\ncountry among you and before your eyes for generations. You know they\nare a family who love to live among their own. They prefer spending\ntheir money among their own people, and sharing their interests, to\ngoing abroad, as so many others do, and spending their money away.\nUnfortunately, it is not uncommon, in speaking of a man, to say how\nfew vices he has, and not how many virtues; and many a time I have\nheard it said, when there were no virtues to speak of, \u2018Well, he is a\ngood-natured fellow.\u2019\u201d He then warmly eulogized his young friend, whom\nhe had known \u201cever since he could crawl,\u201d and ended by wishing that he\nmight be a worthy \u201cchip off the old block.\u201d Then, with well-deserved\npraise, he spoke thus of the father:\n\n\u201cFor I will say this of the father, whom I have known most intimately\nfor the last twenty years: that he is one of whom it may be truly said,\nin the full meaning of the word, he is a \u2018just man\u2019 (hear, hear), and I\nhope his son will walk in his footsteps. May all health and happiness\naccompany him through life, and, when his time is up, and he is called\naway from this world, may he leave a memory behind him as of one who\nlived blessing and blessed, and may he be handed down to posterity as\none who did his duty to God and man!\u201d\n\nMr. Wortley\u2014another principal tenant, and the orator of his\nneighborhood, a man whose kind heart is father to his innocent pride of\nspeech\u2014then stood forward on behalf of the committee who had managed\nthe subscriptions for the birthday gift, and spoke as follows:\n\n\u201cMy Lord C\u2014\u2014: I have now the great pleasure and the distinguished\nhonor to ask your acceptance of this plate, which is contributed by\ntenants and friends of the Earl of G\u2014\u2014 on the occasion of your coming\nof age, as a substantial evidence from us of the cordial manner in\nwhich we share the general joy of this day, and of the great respect we\nentertain towards your noble father and the family of the N\u2014\u2014s.... It\nis given to you, my lord, just stepping, as it were, on the threshold\nof active and responsible life, with the earnest wish that you may\nbe largely blest with those talents for which so many of your family\nhave been celebrated, and may, like them, enjoy the high blessing of\na disposition to use them, as they have used theirs, for the greater\nbenefit and advantage of their fellow-creatures.\u201d Then making his\nfavorite quotation, one largely used on these occasions as strikingly\nappropriate, he repeated sonorously the well-known lines:\n\n  \u201cKind words are more than coronets,\n  And simple faith than Norman blood.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd still,\u201d he went on, \u201cwe, the living, have what past generations\ncould point to\u2014the bright coronet of old N\u2014\u2014l blood to boast of, and\ntheir natural crest of real and crowning charity to be thankful for\n(cheers).\u201d\n\nThe presentation plate was a beautiful silver \u00e9pergne, also convertible\ninto candelabra, thirty-nine inches high, and a pair of flower-stands\nwith finely modelled figures of a stag and a doe standing beneath an\noak. According to the universal custom in country neighborhoods,\nthese costly articles were not procured from London, but from some\nlocal silversmith of good standing; for in England everything like\ncentralization is instinctively avoided. How much the prosperity of\nevery part of the kingdom is thereby increased may be seen at a glance.\nMr. Wortley concluded with these words: \u201cIt is not presented with the\npower of words, but it comes with the far stronger power of hearts\nwithin and without this gorgeous assemblage\u2014warm, devoted, and glowing\nhearts\u2014hearts joining with yours, my Lord C\u2014\u2014, in wishing that you\nmay long remain the heir to the title and estate; while we join most\nsincerely with each other in the fervent hope and humble prayer that\nthrough life, in whatever clime or condition, God\u2019s blessing may be\nyour unfailing portion (cheers).\u201d\n\nLord C\u2014\u2014 made a modest and graceful acknowledgment in a few\nwell-chosen words, telling his guests \u201cwhat a value he should always\nset on the testimonial as a remembrance of the happy hours he and they\nhad been permitted to enjoy together\u201d and begging them \u201cto take what\nhe had said for what it was worth.\u201d \u201cI do not say this by way of any\nexcuse for what I am certain must be my shortcomings, but I say it lest\nyou should think I am expressing myself in any way too feebly, or with\ntoo little warmth of feeling.\u201d\n\nMr. Thompson (another tenant) proposed the brother and sisters of Lord\nC\u2014\u2014, and the younger branches of the family. He said facetiously\nenough: \u201cExperience has probably taught all of us that it is rather a\nmisfortune that there should be an only child in a family, and that\nthere is very apt to be in this case a spoiled urchin on one side, and\nnot at all unlikely two silly parents on the other.\u201d Of course, this\nproduced laughter, and the speaker went on in the same strain, till he\nremarked finally that he sincerely hoped \u201cnot only that there would\nalways be an heir to the N\u2014\u2014l family, but younger branches also.\u201d\n\nLord C\u2014\u2014\u2019s younger brother answered quite as well as he had been\naddressed: \u201cI was not prepared to speak to you on the present occasion.\nI was flattering myself I should get through the whole of these\nproceedings without having to pass through this ordeal.... As younger\nbranches, we grow out further and further from the parent stem, until\nwe are at length lost among the other trees of the forest, while the\nother and older branch continues to tower upwards.\u201d\n\nA speaker, whom we cannot resist designating by a synonyme which is\nno longer a disguise, \u201cLothair,\u201d and who shared these festivities,\nproposed \u201cthe ladies\u201d in a humorous speech, beyond which we must\nmake no further quotations. \u201cSomebody,\u201d he remarked, \u201cin speaking of\nthese festivities, has said that this entertainment had some peculiar\nfeatures distinguishing it from other entertainments of its kind;\nas, for instance, it is now half-past three in the morning, instead\nof about five or six in the afternoon (laughter). It has also this\npeculiar feature, ... that it is not confined to a lugubrious class\nof men in black, talking nonsense about the army, navy, militia, and\nvolunteers (renewed laughter). Here we have a few toasts brought in as\nan interlude in the middle of an entertainment of which it may be said,\n\u2018It is not good for man to be alone,\u2019 whatever Mr. Spurgeon may have\nobserved to the contrary.\u201d\n\nThe speaker has since been the subject of an ovation fully as\ndemonstrative as that in which he took a secondary part last October,\nand we may hope that, in years to come, Cardiff may rival Rutland in\nthe medi\u00e6val character of its princely entertainments.\n\nThe birthday cake was home-made, and a _chef-d\u2019\u0153uvre_ of the family\nhousekeeper. Its weight was 120 lbs., and its structure four tiers\nof confectionery, displaying medallions of the arms and crest of the\nfamily; the silk banner (besides many smaller flags) surmounting it\nbearing the name and date of birth of Lord C\u2014\u2014. Never, indeed, could\nthere have been more gratifying feelings manifested, and never could a\nseries of the kindest hospitalities have passed off with more perfect\nsatisfaction. Throughout the whole week there was nothing but good\nfeeling, every one vying with each other to do the utmost to make all\nsucceed. Not a _contretemps_ occurred\u2014all as Lord G\u2014\u2014 could have\nwished, and so well deserves it should be. There were most regretful\nfaces the next day, when, after breakfast, the time of parting came;\nall, we believe, heartily wishing it could begin again.\n\nThis sketch, which to us has all the personal attraction of a family\nrecord, may perhaps not be uninteresting to some descendants of those\nold English families, who are as worthily represented on this side of\nthe Atlantic as they are in the mother country.\n\nThe poetry of the olden times has not yet quite departed from the\nfeudal soil of England; and, in these meetings of true friendship\nbetween two of the most powerful classes of the country, we may read a\npromise of a common cause being made by their united influence against\nthe sickening aggression of insensate communism, and the spread of\nlicentious ideas. In this all good men and true, whether of Old or New\nEngland, are heartily agreed. But what strikes us even more is the\nbeautiful picture here displayed of the revived spirit of the olden\nfaith, quickening the pulses, guiding the lives, and hallowing the\npleasures of a new generation of Englishmen. Here are the senators,\nthe lawgivers, the soldiers of the future, assembled under the\nauspices of the old church, putting into generous practice her ideas\nof ample hospitality and unquestioning charity; here are England\u2019s\nbest men bowing like happy children to the customs and the influence\nof the faith brought to them by Augustine and Wilfrid; here is the\nchurch represented by the best blood and the most chivalrous class of\nEngland\u2019s sons, who take their place and raise their voice to-day in\nsociety, in the courts, and in the senate, with a fearlessness and a\nfreedom which a hundred years ago would have cost them their heads!\nThe Catholic Church stands now in a proud and high position, a social\nconqueror on the same soil which she conquered once already by the\nsplendor of her learning, and the resources of her material energy.\nThe lands her monks reclaimed from barrenness, the universities her\nfriars adorned with their matchless genius, after having been torn\nfrom her by violence, are virtually holding out their arms to her\nagain, and the Gothic chapels that crown the abbey demesnes of new\nand wealthy converts are but the practical translation of that better\nwealth poured back into her bosom by the converts of the schools and\nuniversities. In England, more than in any other land, the Christian\nmay exclaim in triumph: _Christus regnat, Christus imperat_, and, for\nthe encouragement of the future, may confidently point to the records\nof the past, and say with Constantine: _In hoc signo vinces._\n\n\n\n\nMORE ABOUT DARWINISM.[170]\n\n\n_The Expressions of the Emotions in Man and Animals_ is the title of\nthe latest work written by Charles Darwin. This author has already\ngained a pretty widespread name by his two volumes on the _Descent of\nMan_, and on _The Origin of Species_. In all these, he advocates the\ntheory of only one parent and progenitor, common both to man and to the\nanimal.\n\nMan is the offspring of the brute. The only distinction between them\nis that of a more perfect development. Man is a monkey perfectly\ndeveloped. This developing process is no other than habit transmitted,\nimitation, and practice.\n\nThis theory is supposed in the volume before us\u2014_The Expressions_,\netc. It is, indeed, taken for granted, and Mr. Darwin merely seeks\nconfirmatory proofs in this work. How he does so we shall see.\n\nThe reasoning of the entire volume may be summed up in the following\nsyllogism: The expressions of the emotions in man and animals are, for\nthe most part, similar, nay, alike. Now, this could not be so, did man\nnot descend from the animal; therefore, man is the offspring of the\nbrute.\n\nOf course, he will have to admit some accidental differences in the\nexpressions of each. But these he easily gets over by saying that in\nman those external expressions of the emotions are already perfected,\nmatured, and developed, while in animals they are as yet budding,\ndeveloping, and perfecting.\n\nThe principle of evolution would seem to account for all differences.\nThe animal, by evolving its faculties in a long series of years, rises\ngradually to a higher species, and finally, having walked on all\nfours, comes to the conclusion it would be better and more sensible to\nuse only two feet. Having looked downward for a long time, it begins\nto think it would be more honorable and decent to assume an upright\nposture. And then, grunting and howling are by no means as becoming as\nspeaking French, or Italian, or Chinese; hence, Mr. Orang comes to the\nconclusion that he has been silent long enough, and that it is time\nthat he, too, should have his say about matters.\n\nWe do not say that this is all expressed in so many words in the volume\nbefore us. Oh! no; Mr. Darwin is too adroit to do that. Like the devil,\nhe sometimes assumes the garment of light, and puts on an appearance of\nvirtue. His words are characterized by a tone of modesty and humility\nand even diffidence which is not common to that class of writers. He\ndoes not directly affirm anything; but he asks questions that contain\na negative answer. He insinuates. He does not tell us man is a monkey,\nbut he affirms that man expresses his feelings in the same manner as\ndo these animals. Hence how explain this similarity, if they be not\nbrothers?\n\nWe call attention to this fact. It alone can render his work dangerous\nto youthful or unguarded minds. We think there is little to fear that\nits frivolous arguments will excite anything but laughter and ridicule\namong men of solid erudition.\n\nUnfortunately, the ideas embodied in this book are the creed of many\nenlightened persons, even, of this \u201cprogressive\u201d age. This alone\naccounts for the favor and widespread circulation Darwin\u2019s writings\nhave acquired. Protestantism has done its work only too well. Casting\noff all authority in matters of faith, it has paved the way to all\nerrors, and its theory has merely been developed by our modern\nmaterialists.\n\nWe are not disposed to deny the great labor and varied research\nemployed in the work before us; but, we must say, seldom has it been\nour lot to witness such shallowness of argument, such loose connection\nbetween premises and conclusions. It will astonish the intelligent\nreader that so earnest a student as Mr. Darwin evidently is, could make\nuse of logic in a manner discreditable to any tyro.\n\nBut we must not wonder at this. The drunkard sees things turning\ntopsy-turvy, when in reality they stand still. One who wears green\nspectacles will behold objects in a green or pale color. We are apt\nto judge things according to preconceived ideas or a certain state\nof mind. So Mr. Darwin: his great hobby is to make man a monkey, and\n_vice versa_. Hence, he takes slight resemblances between the two\nas certain proof of his theory. Thus, he says: \u201cWith mankind, some\nexpressions, such as the bristling of the hair under the influence of\nextreme terror, can hardly be understood except on the belief that man\nonce existed in a much lower and animal-like condition. The community\nof certain expressions in distinct though allied species, as in the\nmovements of the same facial muscles during laughter by man and by\nvarious monkeys, is rendered somewhat more intelligible if we believe\nin their common progenitor. He who admits on general principles that\nthe structure and habits of all animals have been gradually evolved,\nwill look at the whole subject of expressions in a new and interesting\nlight.\u201d[171]\n\nThis language is clear and unmistakable, though its meaning be artfully\ndisguised. The logic of his conclusions, however, is not equally\nsatisfactory. Why trace man\u2019s origin to the monkey, because, forsooth,\nhis hair bristles when angry? Or is it really so necessary to make\nman a brute because the same facial muscles move during laughter?\nWe had always thought that these accidental resemblances were more\nthan sufficiently explained by the simple fact that man, besides his\nimmortal soul, is possessed of a body also, which, being material,\nis subject in many respects to the laws of other animals. We say, in\nfact, man is a rational animal. He is composed of matter and spirit.\nAs regards his body, he is subject to the same laws as those which\nregulate animals.\n\nMr. Darwin has in his conclusions what is not contained in his\npremises, and hence he falls into a grave error in regard to the\nfirst principles of logic and sound reasoning. It is quite logical\nand perfectly true to say man has some exterior or bodily motions and\nexpressions similar to those of other animals, and therefore that his\nbodily organs have some relation and similarity with those of the\nlower animals; nay, we may even infer the same essence to be common\nto the bodily organs of both. Thus much strict logic will allow. Thus\nmuch sound philosophy has always admitted. But then, we may ask, How\nfar does this resemblance extend? Does it merely exist in the bodily\norgans, or does it perhaps show itself in all external actions,\neven those of the intellect and the will? Does it extend to all the\nessential elements in both, or is it merely accidental, relating simply\nto minor actions? The answer cannot be doubtful even to the most\nsuperficial observer. We ask, therefore, Is this resemblance of an\nessential, or rather an accidental, character? We can only admit that\nthe latter is the case. There is, it is true, a manifold similarity;\nbut after all, even where this is most striking, is there not a vast\ndiscrepancy? With the lower animal, all is routine\u2014machine-like,\nhabitual, ever the same under similar circumstances, nor can it combine\nmeans with the end. In man, these same external actions are regulated\nby the will, and can be omitted or done at pleasure.\n\nNow, will Mr. Darwin say this is merely a trifle\u2014that this, too,\ncan be acquired by the brute after a long experience and a lapse\nof years? Reason and sound philosophy teach that the sensations of\nbrutes are essentially distinct from, and in nowise contain, reason or\nintelligence. How, then, could reason be the product of evolution? How,\nthen, can that be evolved which does not at all exist?\n\nWe repeat it: Darwin\u2019s conclusion is similar to this: \u201cA dog is a cat,\nbecause, forsooth, both sleep.\u201d He finds in man and brutes some partial\nsimilarities in mere external actions, and straightway he concludes\nthat they are both of the same essence and parentage. As well might he\nsay burning lamps are emanations from the sun, because they, too, give\nlight.\n\nInstinct is almost entirely left out of account, and all expressions\nand external actions are attributed solely to habit and exercise\nrepeated.[172] We by no means doubt that habit and exercise have a\ngreat deal to do with external actions. But can they all be accounted\nfor in such a manner? When we ask, How do children, from the very first\nday of their birth, make use of their hands and feet, and employ their\nmouths in the proper way for imbibing nourishment? Mr. Darwin may\nanswer: \u201cThis habit, too, was transmitted from parent to offspring, and\nindicates a long series of generations\u201d (p. 39).\n\nBut we cannot very well see how this answer will satisfy even the\nmost credulous reader. Habits may be to a certain extent transmitted\nby parents to their children; but generally it is, in an imperfect\nstate, the \u201ctendency\u201d or inclination, rather than the act, that is\ntransmitted. An intemperate parent may transmit to his offspring a\n\u201ctendency\u201d to that vice; but we have not yet heard of a born drunkard.\n\nMoreover, is this principle applicable in a general manner even in\nregard to merely accidental habits? Experience tells us quite the\ncontrary.\n\nWeak-minded parents often give birth to most gifted children. On the\ncontrary, many most cultivated and intelligent parents have children\nwho are dull and slow of understanding.\n\nBut even granting that habits may be transmitted from parent to\noffspring, we ask, What is the nature of such habits? Are they\nessential elements of nature, or merely minor and trifling motions?\nMr. Darwin\u2019s own example on the point will confirm our assertion that\nthey are of the latter sort: \u201cA gentleman of considerable position was\nfound by his wife to have the curious trick, when he lay fast asleep\non his back in bed, of raising his right arm slowly in front of his\nface up to his forehead, and then dropping it with a jerk, so that the\nwrist fell heavily on the bridge of his nose. The trick did not occur\nevery night, but occasionally, and was independent of any ascertained\ncause. Sometimes it was repeated incessantly for an hour or more. The\ngentleman\u2019s nose was prominent, and its bridge often became sore from\nthe blows which it received\u201d (p. 34). His son, too, inherited this\ntrick. The only difference, however, consisted in the son\u2019s nose not\nbeing quite so prominent, and therefore less exposed to the tricky and\nmysterious blows.\n\nNow, what does a fact of this sort prove? Simply that slight, bodily\nactions, such as the one alleged, can be transmitted.\n\n\u201cLanguage,\u201d he tells us, \u201chas been invented by man in a slow and\ntedious process, completed by innumerable steps half consciously made\u201d\n(p. 60). It is somewhat amusing to listen to his description of this\nprocess of inventing language. \u201cThe sexes,\u201d he says, \u201cof many animals\ncall for each other during the breeding season, etc. This, indeed,\nseems to have been the primordial use and means of development of\nvoice\u201d (p. 84).\n\nAs an example, he alleges the cow calling for her calf, the ewes\nbleating for their lambs (p. 85). This theory is at least amusing, if\nnot clear and convincing. It only adds another specimen of Mr. Darwin\u2019s\nloose logic. His argument can be thus presented: There is a resemblance\nbetween the sound of a cow calling for her calf and the voice of man;\ntherefore, the latter is derived from the former, being merely its\ndevelopment\u2014they are both identical in germ. The one is perfected\nby the principle of evolution, which has the wonderful capacity of\ntransforming all sorts of things.\n\nThis is truly making light of that noble gift bestowed upon man by\nhis Creator\u2014language. But, ingenious as Mr. Darwin strives to be in\nassigning the origin of language, he overlooks two little points.\nLanguage he confounds, first, with mere inarticulate sounds. Secondly,\nhe forgets that there may be a distinction between the sound or voice\nas a sign of an idea or of a mere sensation. To confound the two would\nbe like comparing the tones of a piano, as produced by the hands of an\nartist, to the same sounds brought forth by some monkey trying his paws\non the instrument.\n\nWe do not know whether Mr. Darwin has much of a musical ear. If he has,\neven in a very slight degree, we think he would soon find a very great\nand specific distinction between the production of the musician and the\njargon of the monkey. He would tell us, in the one case, the sounds are\nexpressive of the musical combination and ideas of the artist, while,\nin the other, they are mere unmeaning sounds. So it is with language.\nWords express ideas. We can use them as we choose, nay, even wilfully\nchange or disguise their true meaning. What similarity exists, then,\nbetween language and the sounds of animals? If any, it is in the sound.\nDoes this justify the conclusion that they are both identical in germ;\nthat the one is a development of the other? As well might we say the\nwhistling of the wind among the leaves of trees, and the howling of the\nstorm, are identical with the voice of man. All these sounds of nature\nare no less sounds than those of man and the brute; but will any man of\nsound mind identify them?\n\nStill, Mr. Darwin goes on with an air of perfect self-complacency:\n\u201cFrom this fact, and from the analogy of other animals, I have been\nled to infer that the progenitors of man probably uttered musical tones\nbefore they had acquired the power of articulate speech\u201d (p. 87).\n\nOf course, our progenitors here are none other than monkeys. It is\nquite apparent that Darwin\u2019s notion of language is extremely inadequate\nand confused. He must allow us to refresh his memory a little on the\nsubject. A word is an external sign whereby an internal thought or\nidea is made known to others, just as smoke is a sign of fire. Still,\nwords are not expressive of ideas by any natural aptitude. In fact\nwords are naturally so little adapted to express any particular concept\nof the mind that they may be distorted from their meaning. They are\nconventional signs: and except so far as they were given to our first\nparents by God, they have been adopted and used by positive authority,\ncustom, or agreement to serve as a medium of thought.\n\nHerein lies one of the specific differences of human speech from the\nsound of animals. These give forth sounds _naturally_ adapted to\nexpress some feeling. Moreover, their utterances are not chosen by\nthemselves, but dictated by nature. They cannot change them; while\nman selects, varies, and changes his words at will. Hence, language\nis defined: \u201cThe articulate voice of man, having signification by the\nagreement of men.\u201d Words are parts of a sentence, which is defined: \u201cAn\nassemblage of words intended to mean something.\u201d\n\nWe here waive the question whether language was invented by man at all.\nOur doctrine is that it was not invented, but was communicated directly\nby God to our first parents, Adam and Eve. But this is of no importance\nat present; for, whether invented by man, or directly communicated by\nGod, Mr. Darwin\u2019s theory is equally untenable.\n\nWe sum up the differences of sound or language in man and in animals as\nfollows:\n\n1. In man, language is the expression of thought and judgment, while\nthe sounds of animals are merely spontaneous and natural utterances.\n\n2. Language in man is the product of reasoning; it presupposes a\nperception of the relation of the subject and the predicate. For\ninstance, when I say, Man is immortal, I must perceive the relation\nof the attribute immortality to man. Now, the sound of the animal is\nmerely expressive of some solitary feeling.\n\n3. Man directs his words, while the brute\u2019s sound is ever the same.\n\nAnother instance of Darwin\u2019s logic is found in tracing the origin\nof the expression of sulkiness in man, especially in children. This\nfeeling, he says, is expressed by a protrusion of the lips, or, as\nit is called, \u201cmaking a snout.\u201d Now, he continues, \u201cyoung orangs and\nchimpanzees protrude their lips to an extraordinary degree, when they\nare discontented, somewhat angry, or sulky\u201d (p. 234).\n\nBut, lo! what is his conclusion? Therefore, he infers, this habit of\nman was a primordial habit in his \u201csemi-human progenitors,\u201d who are, of\ncourse, no less than the aforesaid honorable monkeys. Let us hear his\nwords: \u201cIf, then, our semi-human progenitors [_i.e._ Messrs. Orang and\nChimpanzee] protruded their lips when sulky or a little angered in the\nsame manner as do the existing anthropoid apes, it is not an anomalous\nthough a curious fact that our children should exhibit, when similarly\naffected, a trace of the same expression\u201d (p. 234). Mr. Darwin is\ncunning. He wishes tacitly to infer that man comes from the animal,\nbecause both can make \u201csnouts.\u201d Of course, even he must concede that\nthe monkey can make a better or at least a longer \u201csnout\u201d than man.\nAnd hence the principles of evolution in this case at least would\nimply retrogression, not progress. His mode of reasoning is strange\nindeed. When he finds an expression in man, he searches whether there\nis anything like it among the monkeys or other animals; and, when he\nhas discovered even a slight trace, he triumphantly exclaims, Behold\nthe progenitors of man! He does not yet call them genitors; they are\nnot the immediate parents, but simply grandfathers and grandmothers.\nNor are these progenitors quite human; they are as yet semi-human,\nbeing about half-way between the monkey phase and that of man. Speaking\nof man, he says: \u201cThe lips are sometimes protruded during rage in a\nmanner the meaning of which I do not understand, unless it depends on\nour descent from some ape-like animal\u201d (p. 243). Mr. Darwin manifests a\nstrange partiality for the ape-like animals.\n\nBut it is no wonder he cannot understand the plainest facts, which\nevery Catholic child can tell him. He sets aside all revealed truths.\nHe knows nothing about the simple but sublime narrative in the first\nchapter of Genesis. He ignores the creative act bringing forth, not\none kind, but \u201cthe living creature in its kind, cattle, and creeping\nthings, and beasts of the earth according to their kinds.\u201d[173] To him,\nthis is of no meaning. True, the Scripture records the solemn creation\nof man as entirely distinct from that of animals. \u201cLet us make man,\u201d\nGod said, \u201cto our image, and likeness; and let him have dominion over\nthe fishes of the sea, and the fowls of the air,\u201d etc. \u201cAnd God created\nman to his own image: to the image of God he created him, male and\nfemale he created them.\u201d[174] True, Darwin will say, according to the\nScripture, \u201cGod breathed into his [man\u2019s] face the breath of life, and\nman became a living soul.\u201d[175]\n\nBut what care I for the Scriptures, when my own private and infallible\nreason leads me to think that God did not directly breathe into man an\nintelligent soul\u2014made after God\u2019s own image and likeness\u2014but rather\nthat man received it from the animal? Such is, indeed, the result of\nthe revolt of reason against God. Like Satan, who was cast from heaven\nin a moment, when desirous of elevating his throne to a level with that\nof God, so man falls and degrades himself when he becomes too proud to\nlisten to God\u2019s Word, making reason the supreme and sole criterion of\ntruth and certitude.\n\nMr. Darwin seems to admit a Creator of the universe, but holds that\nonly one, or at most four, species were created. Now, we must not\nforget, as he certainly does, that the Creator was an infinitely\nintelligent being, and therefore had some object in view in creation.\nEvery intelligent being must act for some end. We call him a fool\nwho knows not what he is doing, and therefore is foolish. Hence, in\ncreation, God destined each creature for some end, to accomplish a\ncertain task. The Creator must, however, give to each creature the\nnecessary means to attain its end. It would be unintelligible that God\nshould destine me to walk, without giving me feet; or create me to earn\nmy livelihood by the labor of my hands, without giving me hands to work\nwith.\n\nNow, this principle, so universally exhibited in nature, will easily\nand satisfactorily explain all expressions in animals as well as in\nman, without obliging us to have recourse to the monkey theory so\nfondly adhered to by Darwin.\n\nWe come now to another proof adduced by Darwin to establish his beloved\nape-descending theory. It is taken from the state of an insane person\n(p. 245). We will allow him to speak for himself: \u201cIts symptoms are the\nreappearance of primitive instincts, a faint echo from a far distant\npast, testifying to a kinship which man has almost outgrown\u201d (p. 245).\nThese are the words of Dr. Maudsley, cited and approved by him. The\nstate of insanity in man is compared to the normal state of the animal.\nAgain, he asks, \u201cWhy should a human being, deprived of his reason, ever\nbecome so brutal in character as some do, unless he has the brutal\nnature within him?\u201d (p. 246).\n\nA more silly or childish mode of reasoning could scarcely be thought\nof. As well might he say the sun returns to its primitive state when in\nan eclipse, or an engine is working properly when the boilers explode\nand spread death and consternation all around.\n\nWe say of the idiot, He has lost his mind. Not that it really is\nentirely extinct: it is merely out of working order. Its clearness\nis darkened by some disorder. The idiot is in a state repugnant to\nhis natural condition. How, then, infer from such a condition a\nformer kinship? A machine or clock out of order will, when left to\nitself, work indeed; not, however, returning to its normal state, but\ndestroying itself. So it is with the idiot. It was, therefore, perhaps\nrather superfluous for Mr. Darwin to spend so much time and labor, and\ngive his readers so much trouble, for the sake of finding out in how\nmany ways idiots resemble his dear monkeys, chimpanzees, and orangs.\n\nWe wonder why the case of Nabuchodonosor did not occur to him. It\nwould have so well illustrated his theory. For he, without becoming\npermanently an idiot, was seized with an irresistible propensity to\nreturn, as Mr. Darwin would say, to his own brethren, and renew his old\nfriendships and acquaintances. And so well was that gentleman pleased\nwith his company that he remained in it not less than seven years,\nuntil it pleased God to restore him to his more intelligent and polite\nbrothers.\n\nWe would suggest to Mr. Darwin a similar experiment. He ought to be\nsociable, and from time to time imitate Nabuchodonosor: let his hair\nand beard grow until they become long feathers; his ears, too, could be\nextended somewhat, and the nails of his hands and feet might very well\nbecome claws; he ought also to eat grass for a while. Thus he would be\nfulfilling a duty to his rustic brethren, and he could at the same time\nenlighten them a little on bipedal civilization, especially as they\nwill one day get to be men themselves, and therefore should try to do\nhonor to their future relatives.\n\nDarwin may tenderly call monkeys \u201cour nearest allies\u201d (p. 253), or\nsay: \u201cThe playful sneer or ferocious snarl in man reveals his animal\ndescent\u201d (p. 253); or again: \u201cWe may readily believe, from our affinity\nto the anthropomorphous apes, that our male semi-human progenitors\npossessed great canine teeth\u201d (p. 253)\u2014he may say all this, and still,\nwe fear, he would not like to have himself introduced at the court of\nLondon as the brother of the long-tailed and widely known orang-outang.\nAnd why? Because his whole moral nature would revolt at such an\nindignity, and thus furnish the strongest proof, perhaps, that all his\ntalk about ape-affinity and descent is nonsense. Human nature rebels at\nsuch a degradation. It protests instinctively against such an alliance.\nIt is unconscious of such a relationship.\n\nNow, how is it, otherwise, that our nature is so tender with regard\nto all kindred? How is it that brothers and sisters and relatives\nlove each other so much and without effort; that in all men there is\na feeling of affinity toward their fellows? How, we ask, does our\nnature, otherwise so tenderly inclined to all relatives, even the most\ndistant, forget in this one instance alone a relationship at once the\nmost sacred and tender\u2014that of a child to its parent? For we, says Mr.\nDarwin, are the grandchildren at least of the animal.\n\nAll the materialistic cavils and speculations of so-called philosophers\nwill suffer shipwreck on this rock\u2014the moral feeling of the dignity\nand specific difference of man. But we will explain the symptoms of\nlunacy to Darwin in a direct manner.\n\nWe grant that man has the brutish \u201cnature within him.\u201d We do not\nconcede, however, that he has only the brutish nature and no other. Man\nhas a soul as well as a body. As regards the nature of the body, we\ncheerfully grant all that Mr. Darwin could desire. It is of the same\nsubstance as that of his dear orang. It has, moreover, the same violent\npassions and downward tendencies; nay, it can\u2014as experience teaches\nin fact it has\u2014outdo the brute in violent bursts of passion. It is,\nmoreover, regulated by the same laws of climate, food, life, etc.\n\nBut this is all we concede. It has not the same origin, being directly\ncreated by God in its natural state. Much less do we admit that man is\nendowed with no higher nature, entirely and specifically distinct from\nhis body. He has a soul that thinks\u2014a soul that is entirely spiritual\nand intelligent, not merely sensible.\n\nWe therefore answer that the state of idiots shows, indeed, that\nman has the brutish nature within him, but by no means that he has\nno other nature. Only a little logic would have shown Darwin that\nhis conclusions embody far more than his premises will allow. It\nseems plain enough that this simple truth is the key to the fullest\nexplanations of human nature itself, and its similarities with the\nnature of mere animals. Man was defined by the ancients as \u201ca rational\nanimal.\u201d S. Thomas and the scholastics took up and perpetuated this\ndefinition. Man is an animal, because he has a body like all animals,\nand a soul which is created to be the form of that body. Man is,\nmoreover, a rational being, because, unlike all the other animals,\nhe has a soul which has a separate existence of its own, is created\nimmediately by God, and is essentially spiritual.\n\nThis distinction, if only borne in mind by our monkey theorists,\nwould have aided them not a little, we opine, in their brain-cracking\nresearches; nor would they have found so many mysteries where\neverything is plain and intelligible.\n\nWe now proceed to another principle advanced in the book before us.\nDarwin says: \u201cThat the chief expressive actions exhibited by man and\nby the lower animals are innate or inherited\u2014that is, have not been\nlearnt by the individual\u2014is now admitted by every one\u201d (p. 351).\n\nHe must allow us to say that such a proposition is, in our estimation,\nnot admitted by every one. With the exception of the author and a few\nmonkeyists, we know of no one who ever advocated any such principle.\nIt is indeed conceded that a \u201ctendency\u201d to most of our expressive\nactions may be innate or inherited; but, as to the actions and\nexpressions themselves, it is commonly taught by all the schools that\nthey are performed by instinct and reason, and perfected by imitation\nand experience. What Mr. Darwin means when he calls expressions innate\nand inherited is not the former\u2014the tendency\u2014but the action itself\nas transmitted from the father to the son. He illustrates his meaning\nby an example, not quite suitable for our pages, which may be found by\nthe curious on p. 44 of his work. If anything, this example shows that\ndogs, and wolves, and jackals are guided by no reason, and do not apply\nthe proper means to attain an end. But does it follow that man, too,\nhas inherited his external movements from such progenitors as monkeys?\nDoes not man direct even all his external actions by reason? It is\ntrue, he may be led away by passion; but that is an exception, and only\nproves the rule.\n\nBut we go further. The Catholic Church teaches that the human race is\ndescended from one common pair\u2014Adam and Eve. From them the whole human\nrace was propagated. Darwin, too, teaches the unity of mankind. But his\nis quite a different unity. Not only do all men descend from a common\nhuman parent, according to him, but both animals and men have a common\nparent; so that originally there existed one animal, from which all the\nrest, men included, derive their origin.\n\nNow, we should naturally expect that so grave an inference would be\nbased upon a no less weighty proof. But herein we are sadly mistaken.\nHis whole argument rests upon a resemblance of some external actions\ncommon to mankind: \u201cI have endeavored to show in considerable detail\nthat all the chief expressions in man are the same throughout the\nworld. This fact is interesting, as it affords a new argument in favor\nof the several races being descended from a single parent stock, which\nmust have been almost completely human in structure, and to a large\nextent in mind, before the period at which races diverged from each\nother\u201d (p. 361).\n\nThis argument may do very well to confirm the doctrine of the church;\nbut we do not see how it will establish the ape theory, any more than\nit would to infer that the sun and moon are alike because they both\nshine. It is really amusing to hear our author so innocently say:\n\u201cWe may confidently believe that laughter, as a sign of pleasure or\nenjoyment, was practised by our progenitors long before they deserved\nto be called human\u201d (p. 362).\n\nFrom all this it is at least evident that our poor progenitors had to\nundergo a long novitiate to become invested with the habits proper to\nman. Theirs, indeed, must have been a tedious process before attaining\nhuman activity. One thing, however, he forgets to tell us. It is the\nperiod when such a change of the species occurred. Theory may sound\nvery well; but we know of no fact of the kind. How is it that, as long\nas the world can remember, no monkey ever became a man, or a tree a\npig? We cannot exactly agree with Darwin, therefore, when he calls the\n\u201canthropomorphous apes our nearest allies and our early progenitors\u201d\n(p. 363). We are quite aware of the answer he gives to this objection\nin his book, on _The Origin of Species_. But it may well be compared\nto the method of those romance writers who take good care to place the\nscene of the heroic exploits of their heroes in far distant lands as\nyet unknown and unexplored. Thus they may write volume after volume,\nwithout any danger of being convicted of telling stories and building\ncastles in the air. So Darwin. In his _Origin of Species_, he pretends\nthat the change from one species to another is so long and gradual that\nit may comprise even millions of years. As a conjecture, this may pass;\nbut as an argument in support of a most elaborate system, we fail to\nsee its efficacy.\n\nWe will now pass to another argument. Speaking of frowning as shading\nthe eyes, he says: \u201cIt seems probable that this shading action would\nnot have become habitual until man had assumed a completely upright\nposition; for monkeys do not frown when exposed to a glaring light\u201d\n(p. 363). This phrase can be made plainer when paraphrased as follows:\nIt is a theory, established by me beyond any doubt, that man is the\noffspring of the monkey. Now, the monkey does not frown or shade his\neyes, even when exposed to the most glaring light of the sun. Hence,\nit follows that frowning is an action peculiarly adapted only to an\nupright position. And hence, too, no wonder that the orang did not make\nuse of it as long as he was walking on all fours and bent downwards.\nHence, we must infer that frowning became a habit, then, only when the\nape, thinking that he had walked long enough on all fours, and that he\nmight, without any particular inconvenience to himself, dispense with\ntwo feet, stood upright, and became a man. This is the meaning of his\nwords. On the same principle the following conjecture is based: \u201cOur\nearly progenitors, when indignant, would not hold their heads erect\nuntil they had acquired the ordinary carriage and upright attitude of\nman\u201d (p. 363). Its sense is: As our first parents were brutes, and as\nwe find that in no instance they held their heads erect when angry or\nindignant, it follows, of course, that this action was acquired only\nafter they made use of their hind feet to walk, and when the fore paws\nbecame hands.\n\nBlushing is considered by Darwin an expression that requires attention\nto one\u2019s personal defects. Now, as it has not been observed in any\nmonkey or other animal, he of course infers that it became habitual\nonly when, having emerged from the monkey phase of existence, we became\nsemi-human.\n\n\u201cBut it does not seem possible\u201d\u2014these are his words\u2014\u201cthat any animal,\nuntil its mental powers had been developed to an equal or nearly equal\ndegree with those of man, would have closely considered and been\nsensitive about its own personal appearance\u201d (p. 364).\n\nThus far we perfectly agree with him. Blushing is an act predicable\nonly of an intelligent being. Hence, it is quite logical to say\nthat animals could not possess it, unless almost as perfect as man.\nBut we by no means so readily coincide with his conclusion, namely:\n\u201cTherefore, we may conclude that blushing originated at a very late\nperiod in the long line of our descent\u201d (p. 364).\n\nIf this were true, it would likewise follow that man ought to become\nmore prone to blushing as he advances in years. This, however, it\nwill be confessed, is not the case. Quite the reverse frequently\nhappens. Youth and innocence blush, while age and vice grow daily more\nbarefaced and unblushing. Now, if blushing were a mere habit acquired\nand developed by physical evolution, how does it come to pass that\nfull-grown men who are given to immorality lose that blush which rose\nto their cheeks when young and innocent? Daily experience only too well\ntells the tale how the maiden blush becomes dimmer and fades entirely\nwhen the career of sin and shame has been once entered upon. Where,\nthen, is the philosophy of Darwin\u2019s principle?\n\nIt is quite true, he tells us, that \u201cwe cannot cause a blush by any\nphysical means. It is the mind which must be affected\u201d (p. 310); \u201cthat\nthe causes of blushing are shyness, shame, and modesty; the essential\nelement in all being self-attention\u201d (p. 326). Again, he continues:\n\u201cMany reasons can be assigned [as causes of blushing] for believing\nthat originally self-attention directed to personal appearance in\nrelation to the opinion of others was the exciting cause. Moral causes\nare only secondary; the same effect being subsequently produced through\nthe force of association by self-attention in relation to moral\nconduct\u201d (p. 326).\n\nThis shows that, with Darwin, morality is a mere matter of etiquette.\n\u201cBut modesty,\u201d he continues, \u201cfrequently relates to acts of indelicacy;\nand indelicacy is an affair of etiquette, as we clearly see with\nthe nations that go altogether or nearly naked. He who is modest,\nand blushes easily at acts of this nature, does so because they are\nbreaches of a firmly and wisely established etiquette\u201d (p. 335).\n\nFrom this, then, it is clear that morality, chastity, and every species\nof virtue are nothing more than the external code of regulations which\nsociety has agreed upon in its social intercourse. In other words, all\nvirtue and morality consist in what we call good breeding. We blush,\nnot because we break the law of God, but because we violate the precept\nof man. Darwin\u2019s ten commandments, we think, might well be summed up as\nfollows: First commandment: Society is the Lord God of man; thou shalt\nadore it alone, by minutely observing all its external regulations,\ncalled etiquette. 2d. Thou shalt not take its name in vain by saying\nthat man and society can commit any wrong, or be anything but perfect.\n3d. Thou shalt keep holy the Sabbath; that is, go to church on Sunday,\nbecause others do so, and etiquette demands it. 4th. Honor thy father\nand thy mother, because it is customary to do so. 5th. Thou shalt not\nbe so common a criminal as to kill a man by direct physical means;\nbut remember that thou must hold every man to be a rogue and a knave\nuntil he proves the contrary. Thou mayest even, especially when thou\nart a congressman, take an oath, without being particular as to the\ntruth of thy statement. 6th and 9th. Thou shalt not commit adultery.\nNow, as marriage is merely an ordinary contract, that can of course\nbe dissolved when the parties mutually agree, go to court, obtain a\ndivorce, and thou canst marry the wife of another. As to thoughts\nagainst the sixth commandment, thou must not trouble thy head too much\nabout them. They are nature\u2019s legitimate ebullitions. 7th. Thou shalt\nnot steal in open daylight, but get as much as thou canst without being\ndetected. This would constitute the moral code of Darwin. If morality\nis reduced to etiquette, it is evident that its obligation is merely\nexternal.\n\nFinally, we come to another point in the book on _The Expressions_,\netc. It is a curious instance of our former propensities in a primeval\nstate. At some time or other, we are told, we were possessed of long\nears, and movable at that, such as we see in the mule and dog. The\nelephant, also, would afford a pretty good specimen, its ears being\nlong and quite flexible.\n\nBut let us hear him: \u201cIf our ears had remained movable, their movements\nwould have been highly expressive, as is the case with all the\nanimals which fight with their teeth; and we may infer that our early\nprogenitors thus fought\u201d (p. 365). Well, we do not by any means doubt\nthat these movables would be highly expressive in man. Just imagine,\nfor instance, Mr. Darwin going through the streets of New York with a\npair of long ears, moving and flapping to his heart\u2019s content! Why, the\nNew York papers would hail it as a godsend, and the urchins on Broadway\nwould go in ecstasies over it.\n\nOur interesting author winds up his somewhat lengthy dissertations\nwith the inference that his reasonings on the \u201cexpression of emotions\u201d\nafford another confirmatory proof of his theory that man is the\noffspring of the monkey. His two volumes on the _Descent of Man_ were\nintended as the corner-stone of his building. This later work was to\nfinish it. The great pity is that he is building a castle in the air.\nHe gives no proof. Similarities in man and animals may afford ground\nfor suppositions, but can never cause conviction.\n\n\u201cWe have seen,\u201d he says, \u201cthat the study of the theory of \u2018expression\u2019\nconfirms, to a certain limited extent, the conclusion that man is\nderived from some lower animal form, and supports the belief of the\nspecific or sub-specific unity of the several races\u201d (p. 367).\n\nWe are now done with Darwin. In perusing the volume, we confess it was\nnot without a feeling of deep sadness at so much blindness combined\nwith no ordinary degree of learning and research. Darwin is a student\nof no mean class. His research shows that no pains were spared. His\nnumerous examples demonstrate that he is perfectly at home in natural\nsciences. Mixed up with error, there is in his book a great deal both\ninteresting and highly instructive. His conclusions might perhaps be\ncorrect if there existed no God, no revelation, and no eternity. He is\na striking example of men who set aside the revealed Word of God, and\ntake reason as their sole guide and standard in the search after wisdom.\n\nIt may not be amiss to subjoin a few general principles that will\nrefute even more fully the sophisms of the author.\n\nWe lay it down as a certain proposition that sensation is essentially\ndistinct from intelligence. Sensation is defined: \u201cA certain impression\npresent to the mind, caused by an external agent on an animated\nbody.\u201d[176]\n\nThis external impression is received by five sensible organs, viz.:\ntouch, taste, smell, hearing, and sight. These are evidently material\norgans, having size, weight, figure, extension, distance, number,\nmotion, and rest. The same is the case with the object causing the\nimpressions.\n\nNow, is there any specific difference between sensation and\nintelligence? Is the understanding of man entirely different from the\nsensation of the brute? Or is it merely a development of the latter?\nIf we believe Darwin, there is no real difference, except that the\none is more perfect than the other. In the monkey, there exists the\nsame faculty of intelligence as in man. In the former, however, it is\nin its incipient stage; in the latter, it is matured and developed.\nCan such a theory be reconciled with philosophy? We believe not. In\nfact, the difference between sensation and intelligence can be given as\nfollows: 1. Sensations are external impressions which are not produced\nby the mind, but merely received; hence they are passive; whilst the\nunderstanding of man is essentially the actor, and not merely the\nrecipient. 2. Again, \u201cSensations are particular facts which never leave\ntheir own sphere.\u201d[177] Intelligence forms ideas that are universal and\nabsolute, being applicable to all individuals.\n\nMoreover, sensation does not distinguish one object from the other,\nneither does it compare them. The illustrious Spaniard whom we have\nalready quoted illustrates this by saying: \u201cThe sensation of the pink\nis only that of the pink, and that of the rose only that of the rose.\nThe instant you attempt to compare them you suppose in the mind an\nact by which it perceives the difference; and, if you attribute to it\nanything more than pure sensation, you add a faculty distinct from\nsensation, namely, that of comparing sensations, and appreciating their\nsimilarities and differences.\u201d[178]\n\nThis, indeed, is evident. Sensation is simply the external impression\nreceived. As such, it is an isolated act. It does not compare or judge.\n\nThe idea, for instance, of the triangle is one, and is common to all\ntriangles of every size and kind; the representation or sensation is\nmultiple, and varies in size and kind.\n\nAgain, the idea or thought of the mind is fixed and necessary; the\nrepresentation changeable.\n\nThe idea, _e.g._, of the triangle is \u201cthe same to the man born blind,\nand to him who has sight; and the proof of this is that both, in their\narguments and geometrical uses, develop it in the same manner.\u201d[179]\n\nFrom what has been thus far said, it is evident that there exists a\ndividing line between the intellect and sensation; that the one is in\nno sense contained in the other, and cannot by any process be derived\nfrom it. Darwin is a mere sensist. He understands little of the nature\nand faculties of the human soul. He ignores any essential distinction\nbetween the intellect and sensation.\n\nThere is, indeed, it may be observed, a close connection between the\ntwo. Sensation is the condition of the exercise of the intellect while\nwe are in this life. It supplies food for the intelligence. It always\nprecedes and accompanies the intellectual act. Thus, when we think of\nGod\u2019s mercy, we easily imagine God as a kind father, etc.\n\nBut such is the case only in human intelligence. We have a spirit in\na material and sensible body. Our intellect, by its substantial union\nwith the body, is bound to adapt its exercises to the conditions\nimposed by this union. But unless we deny all revelation, we must\nadmit the existence of celestial spirits who are not possessed of\nand encumbered by any body. These, then, need no visible organs, no\nexternal sensation, no sensible representation, to arouse and excite\ntheir intellect to action. Hence, it follows that the connection\nexisting between sensation and intelligence is not essential.\n\nWe shall now examine some other acts of the intellect, to confirm what\nwe have said. Judgment is one of the principal acts of the mind. It is\ndefined: \u201cThe perception and affirmation of the identity or diversity\nof two ideas or propositions obtained by comparing them.\u201d[180] Thus,\nin the proposition, \u201cMan is mortal,\u201d the mind compares the ideas man\nand \u201cmortal,\u201d and affirms their identity. The sensation, however, is\nan isolated impression on the mind, a single fact. Another feature of\nhuman actions is the purpose or end for which a thing is done. The\ndog may do things that have great similarity to human actions; but\nclose observation will easily convince one that the brute does so in\na uniform manner, and consequently is impelled by natural instinct.\nMan, however, sits down and deliberates. He proposes some object to\nbe accomplished, and carefully selects the means best calculated\nto attain that end. He changes his means at will, according to the\ncircumstances of the case. Does any animal, even be it Darwin\u2019s darling\nmonkey, do anything of the kind? Moreover, the end or purpose may be\ninherent in the act itself; thus, the sun gives heat and light. An\nend, however, may not arise essentially out of the nature of things,\nbut may be freely intended; thus, man chooses different objects, while\nanimals necessarily perform them. Again, man observes order in his\nactions. Order is defined: \u201cA proper disposition of things, giving\nto each its place\u201d;[181] or, \u201cA composition, and arranging things\naccording to their proper place.\u201d[182] This arrangement may be made\neither in relation to the matter, or time, or the object. Now, do we\never behold animals displaying order in their actions? Has even Darwin\never seen a monkey arranging books in a library in such a manner as\nto place alongside each other those relating to one subject? We doubt\nit. We conclude this review by summing up, in Darwin\u2019s words, the\nprinciples by which he contends that all our ideas are acquired. The\nfirst is the principle of serviceable associated habits. According\nto it, we gradually acquire all those habits, ideas, and expressions\nthat conduce to our interest or gratification. The second is that of\nantithesis\u2014that is, when something offered to our interest occurs, we\nadopt contrary actions and ideas. The third is styled by Darwin the\nprinciple of actions due to the constitution of the nervous system,\nindependently, from the first, of the will, and independently, to\na certain extent, of habit. This last principle is simply what is\ncommonly called instinct. No one denies that it causes many actions\npertaining to our welfare; but no man of sound mind will derive from\nit intelligence. The first and second principles can be reduced to\nthat of utilitarianism. In plain language, it amounts to this: if all\nthe actions, thoughts, and desires of man are regulated merely in\naccordance with each one\u2019s private gratification, there would be no\nsuch thing as being concerned about the welfare of others. We finish\nby recalling the fundamental idea underlying this work. There are,\nDarwin tells us, striking similarities between the external expressions\nexhibited by man and the animal. These cannot be explained except on\nthe supposition that the former descends by a long and slow process of\ngeneration from the latter. This is styled natural evolution.\n\nThere is, we admit, a germ of truth in the theory of evolution.\nThe mistake is in applying it without limit. The Catholic Church\nteaches, 1. that the soul of man is immediately created by God. 2.\nThat the human body also was created in like manner. This latter,\nhowever, is not so explicitly defined as the former. 3. It is a\ncommonly received opinion of theologians that all the principal\nspecies of the animal were created directly by God. 4. That, however,\nimperfect species, such as hybrids and those generated by corruption,\nperspiration\u2014_e.g._, fleas\u2014were created only in germ, or _potentiali\nmodo_.\n\nFrom this, it is not difficult to see how far a Catholic may accept the\ntheory of evolution. Scientists should not forget that reason is the\nhandmaid of revelation.\n\n\n\n\nGRAPES AND THORNS.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF THE \u201cHOUSE OF YORKE.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\u201cSOWING THE WIND.\u201d\n\nTHE cottage where the Geralds lived was almost the entire inheritance\nthat had fallen to Miss Pembroke from those large estates which, it\nseemed, should have been hers; but her wishes were submitted to her\ncircumstances with a calmness that looked very like contentment. Mother\nChevreuse called it Christian resignation, and she may have been at\nleast partly right. But it was contrary to Miss Pembroke\u2019s disposition\nto fret over irreparable misfortunes, or even to exert herself very\nmuch to overcome difficulties. She liked the easy path, and always\nchose it when conscience did not forbid. She made the best of her\ncircumstances, therefore, and lived a quiet and pleasant, if not a very\ndelightful, life. Mrs. Gerald was friendly; their little household was\nsufficiently well arranged and perfectly homelike; they had agreeable\nvisitors, and plenty of outside gaiety. On the whole, there seemed to\nbe no reason why anything but marriage should separate the owner from\nher tenants.\n\nOf marriage there was no present prospect. Several gentlemen had made\nthose preliminary advances which are supposed to have this end in view,\nbut had been discouraged by the cool friendliness with which they were\nreceived. The wide-open eyes, surprised and inquiring, had nipped their\nlittle sentimental speeches in the bud, and quite abashed their killing\nglances. Miss Pembroke had no taste for this small skirmishing, in\nwhich so many men and women fritter away first what little refinement\nof feeling nature may have gifted them with, and afterward their belief\nin the refinement of others; and not one true and brave wooer had come\nyet.\n\nPeople had various explanations to give for this insensibility, some\nfancying that the young woman was ambitious, and desirous to find one\nwho would be able to give her such a position as that once occupied\nby Mrs. Carpenter; others that she had a vocation for a religious\nlife; but she gave no account of her private motives and feelings,\nand perhaps could not have explained them to herself. She certainly\ncould not have told precisely what she did want, though her mind was\nquite clear as to what she did not want. Mr. Lawrence Gerald\u2019s real\nor imaginary love for her did not, after the first few months, cause\nher the slightest embarrassment, as it did not inspire her with the\nleast respect. The only strong and faithful attachment of which he was\ncapable was one for himself, and his superficial affections were so\nnumerous as to be worthy of very little compassion, however they might\nbe slighted.\n\nSweet-brier Cottage, as it was called, might, then, be called rather a\nhappy little nest.\n\nNothing could be prettier than the apartment occupied by the owner of\nthe house, though, since she had her own peculiar notions regarding the\nrelative importance of things, many might have found the mingling of\nsimplicity and costliness in her furnishing rather odd. An upholsterer\nwould have pronounced the different articles in the rooms to be \u201cout of\nkeeping\u201d with each other, just as he would have criticised a picture\nwhere the artist had purposely slighted the inferior parts. The deal\nfloors were bare, save for two or three strips of carpeting in summer,\nand sealskin mats in winter; the prim curtains that hung in straight\nflutings, without a superfluous fold, over the windows, around the\nbed, and before the book-case, just clearing the floor, were of plain,\nthin muslin, plainly hemmed, and had no more luxurious fastenings than\nbrass knobs and blue worsted cords to loop them back; but a connoisseur\nwould have prized the few engravings on the walls, the candlesticks of\npure silver in the shrine before the _prie-dieu_, and the statuette of\nour Lady that stood there, a work of art. In cleanliness, too, Miss\nPembroke was lavish, and one poor woman was nearly supported by what\nshe received for keeping the draperies snowy white and crisp, and\nwiping away every speck of dust from the immaculate bower. No broom nor\nbrush was allowed to enter there.\n\n\u201cIt is such a pleasure to come here,\u201d Mother Chevreuse said one day\nwhen she came to visit Honora; \u201ceverything is so pure and fresh.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is such a pleasure to have you come!\u201d was the response; and the\nyoung woman seated her visitor in the one blue chintz arm-chair the\nchamber contained, kissed her softly on the cheek, removed her bonnet\nand shawl, placed a palm-leaf fan in her hand, then, seated lowly\nbeside her, looked so pretty and so pleased that it was charming to see\nher. These two women were very fond of each other, and in their private\nintercourse quite like mother and daughter. Theirs was one of those\nsweet affections to which the mere being together is delightful, though\nthere may be nothing of importance said; as two flames united burn\nmore brightly, though no fuel be added. It might have been said that\nit was the blending of two harmonious spheres; and probably the idea\ncould not be better expressed. The sense of satisfying companionship,\nof entire sympathy and confidence, the gentle warmth produced in the\nheart by that presence\u2014these are enough without words, be they never\nso wise and witty. Yet one must feel that wit and wisdom of some kind\nare there. There is all the difference in the world between a full and\nan empty silence, between a trifling that covers depth, and a trifling\nthat betrays shallowness.\n\nOur two friends talked together, then, quite contentedly about very\nsmall matters, touching now and then on matters not so insignificant.\nAnd it chanced that their talk drifted in such a direction that, after\na grave momentary pause, Miss Honora lifted her eyes to her friend\u2019s\nface, and, following out their subject, said seriously: \u201cMother, I am\ntroubled about men.\u201d\n\nBut for the gravity that had fallen on both, Mother Chevreuse would\nhave smiled at this na\u00efve speech; as it was, she asked quietly: \u201cIn\nwhat way, my dear?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey seem to me petty, the greater part of them, and lacking in a fine\nsense of honor; lacking courage, too, which is shocking in a man.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! one swallow does not make a summer,\u201d said Mother Chevreuse,\nthinking that she understood the meaning of this discouragement. \u201cYou\nmust not believe that all men fail because some unworthy ones do.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is not that at all,\u201d was the quick reply. \u201cYou think I mean\nLawrence. I do not. He makes no difference with me. I mean the men from\nwhom one would expect something better; the very men who seem to lament\nthat women are not truer and nobler, and who utter such fine sentiments\nthat you would suppose none but a most exalted and angelic being could\nplease them or win their approval. I have heard such men talk, when I\nhave thought with delight that I would try in every way to improve, so\nas to win their admiration, and be worthy of their friendship; and all\nat once, I have found that they could be pleased and captivated by what\nis lowest and meanest. It is disappointing,\u201d she said, with a sigh.\n\u201cIt is natural that women should wish to respect men; and I would be\nwilling to have them look down on me, if they would be such as I could\nlook up to.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas any one been displeasing you?\u201d Mother Chevreuse asked, looking\nkeenly into the fair and sorrowful face before her. She suspected that\nthis generalizing sprang from some special cause. But the glance that\nmet hers showed there was at least no conscious concealment.\n\n\u201cThese thoughts have been coming to me at intervals for a good while,\u201d\nMiss Pembroke answered calmly. \u201cBut, of course, particular incidents\nawaken them newly. I was displeased this morning. I met a lady and\ngentleman taking a walk into the country, and I did not like to see\nthem together.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut why should you care, my dear?\u201d asked Mother Chevreuse, with a\nlook of alarm. She understood perfectly well that the two were Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger and Miss Carthusen.\n\nThe young woman answered with an expression of surprise that entirely\nreassured her friend: \u201cWhy should I not care for this case as well as\nanother? He is a new-comer, and all my first impressions of him were\nfavorable. I had thought he might prove a fine character; and so it is\none more disappointment. But I am making too much of the matter,\u201d she\nsaid, with a smile and gesture that seemed to toss the subject aside.\n\u201cI really cannot tell why I should have thought so much about it.\u201d\n\nShe bent and gaily kissed her friend\u2019s hands; but Mother Chevreuse drew\nher close in an embrace that seemed by its passion to be striving to\nshield her from harm. She understood quite well what Honora did not yet\nknow: that the nature which the Creator defined from the beginning when\nhe said: \u201cIt is not good for man to be alone,\u201d had begun to feel itself\nlonely.\n\n\u201cI would try not to think of these things, my dear,\u201d she said\nearnestly. \u201cTrust me, and put such thoughts away. There are good men in\nthe world, and one day you will be convinced of that; but it is never\nworth while to look about in search of some one to honor. Think of God,\nand pray to him with more fervor than ever. Add a new prayer to your\ndevotions, with the intention of keeping this useless subject out of\nyour mind. Remember heaven, work for the poor, and the sinful, and the\nsick, and, above all, do not fancy that it is going to make you happy\nthough you should be acquainted with the finest men, or win ever so\nmuch their esteem. It isn\u2019t worth striving for, even if striving would\nwin it. Nothing on earth is worth working for but bread and heaven.\u201d\n\nMiss Pembroke looked a little disappointed. She had expected sympathy\nand reassurance, and had received instead a warning. \u201cI hope, mother,\nyou do not think me bold in speaking on such a subject,\u201d she said,\ndropping her eyes; and then Mother Chevreuse knew that she had better\nhave spoken lightly.\n\n\u201cCertainly not!\u201d she answered, laughing. \u201cDo you think I fear you are\ngoing to lecture on woman\u2019s rights?\u201d\n\nAnd so the little cloud passed over; and, when her visitor went away,\nHonora had quite dismissed the subject from her mind. There were her\nsimple household duties to perform; then Lawrence came home to take an\nearly luncheon and dress to go to Annette Ferrier\u2019s, where there was to\nbe a musical rehearsal; and, as soon as lunch was over, who should come\nin but F. Chevreuse!\n\nLawrence had a mind to escape unseen; but the priest greeted him so\ncordially, pointing to a chair close beside his own, that it would have\nbeen rude to go. And having overcome the first shyness that a careless\nCatholic naturally feels in the presence of a clergyman, he found it\nagreeable to remain; for nobody could be pleasanter company than F.\nChevreuse.\n\n\u201cI beg unblushingly,\u201d he owned with perfect frankness, when they\ninquired how his collecting prospered. \u201cTo-day, I asked Dan McCabe\nfor a hundred dollars, and got it. He looked astonished, and so does\nMiss Honora; but he showed no reluctance. At first blush, it may\nseem strange that I should take money that comes from gambling and\nrumselling. My idea is this: Dan is almost an outlaw; no decent person\nlikes to speak to him, and he has got to look on society and religion\nas utterly antagonistic to him. He is on the other side of the fence,\nand the only feeling he has for decency is hatred and defiance. He\ntakes pride in mocking, and pretending that he doesn\u2019t care what people\nthink of him. But it is a pretence, and his very defiance shows that he\ndoes care. It is my opinion that to-day Dan would give every dollar he\nhas in the world, and go to work as a poor man, if he could be treated\nas a respectable one. He is proud of my having spoken to him, and taken\nhis money, though I dare say he will pretend to sneer and laugh about\nit. You may depend he will tell of it on every opportunity. Better than\nthat, he will feel that he has a right to come to the church. Before\nthis, he had not, or at least people would have said he had not, and\nwould have stared at him if he had come. Now, if he should come in next\nSunday, and march up to a front seat, nobody could complain. If they\nshould, he would have the best of the argument, and he knows that.\nThen, once in the church, we have a chance to influence him, and he a\nchance to win respectability. He isn\u2019t one to be driven, nor, indeed,\nto be clumsily coaxed. The way is to assume that he wishes to do right,\nthen act as if he had done right. He never will let slip a bait like\nthat. He will hold on to that if he should have to let everything else\ngo, as he must, of course. I knew, when I saw him look ashamed to meet\nme, that he wasn\u2019t lost. While there\u2019s shame, there\u2019s hope. So much for\nDan McCabe. Am I not right, Larry?\u201d\n\nLawrence stooped to pick up F. Chevreuse\u2019s hat, which had fallen, and\nby so doing escaped the necessity of answering. One glance of the\npriest\u2019s quick eyes read his embarrassment, and saw the deepening color\nin Honora\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cI am sure you are quite right, father,\u201d Mrs. Gerald said hastily, with\na tremor in her voice. \u201cPerhaps Dan would never have been so bad if too\nmuch severity had not been used toward his early faults. And so your\ncollecting goes on successfully. I am so glad.\u201d\n\nThe priest, who perceived that he had, without meaning it, stirred deep\nwaters, resumed the former subject briskly:\n\n\u201cYes, thank God! my affairs are looking up. But there was a time when\nthey were dark enough. I have been anxious about Mr. Sawyer\u2019s mortgage.\nHe is not so friendly to us as he was, or else he needs the money; for\nhe would grant no extension. Well, I raked and scraped every dollar\nI could get, and I knew that, before next week, I couldn\u2019t hope to\ncollect above one or two hundreds in addition; and still it did not\namount to more than half of the two thousand due. So I wrote off to\na friend in New York who I thought might help me, and set my mother\npraying to all the saints for my success. For me, I don\u2019t know what\ncame over me. Perhaps I was tired, or nervous, or dyspeptic. At all\nevents, when the time came for me to receive an answer to my letter,\nall my courage failed. I was ashamed of myself, but that didn\u2019t help\nme. While Andy was gone to the post-office, I could do nothing but walk\nto and fro, and shake at every sound, and watch the clock to see when\nhe would be back. I always give the old fellow half an hour. I wasn\u2019t\nstrong when he went. In ten minutes I was weak, in fifteen minutes I\nwas silly, in twenty minutes I was a fool. \u2018I can\u2019t wait here in the\nhouse for him,\u2019 I said; \u2018I\u2019ll take to the sanctuary, and, whatever\ncomes to me there, it can\u2019t kill me.\u2019 So I left word for Andy to bring\nmy letters to the church, and lay them down on the altar steps, and\ngo away again without speaking a word; and out I went, and knelt down\nby the altar, like an urchin who catches hold of his mother\u2019s gown\nwhen somebody says bo! to him. By-and-by, I heard Andy coming. I knew\nthe squeak of his boots, and the double way he has of putting his\nfeet down\u2014first the heel, then the toe, making a sound as though he\nwere a quadruped. Never had he walked so slowly, yet never had I so\ndreaded his coming. I counted the stairs as he came up, and found out\nthat there were fifteen. For some reason, I liked the number; perhaps\nbecause it is the number of decades in the rosary. I promised in that\ninstant that, if he brought me good news, I would climb those stairs on\nmy knees, saying a decade on every stair in thanksgiving. Then I put my\nhand over my face, and waited. He lumbered in, panting for breath, laid\nsomething down before me, and went out again. I counted the fifteen\nsteps till he was at the bottom of them, then snatched up my letter,\nand broke the seal; and there was my thousand dollars! When I saw the\ndraft, I involuntarily jumped up, and flung my _barrette_ as high as I\ncould fling it, and it came down to me with a mash that it will never\nget over. But, my boy,\u201d he said, turning quickly, and laying his hand\non Lawrence Gerald\u2019s knee, \u201cthat your hat may never be mashed in a\nworse cause!\u201d\n\nLawrence had been listening intently, and watching the speaker\u2019s\nanimated face; and, at this sudden address, he dropped his eyes, and\nblushed. Alas for him! his hat had more than once been mashed in a\ncause little to his credit.\n\n\u201cAnd now,\u201d continued F. Chevreuse, with triumph, \u201cI have at home in my\nstrong desk two thousand dollars, lacking only fifty, and the fifty\nis in my pocket. After this, all is plain sailing. There will be no\ndifficulty in meeting the other payments.\u201d\n\nThe ladies congratulated him heartily. In this place, the interests of\nthe priest were felt to be the interests of the people. Making himself\nintimately acquainted with their circumstances, he asked no more than\nthey could reasonably give; and they, seeing his hard and disinterested\nlabors, grieved that they could give so little.\n\nPresently, and perhaps not without an object, F. Chevreuse spoke\nincidentally of business, and expressed his admiration for pursuits\nwhich one of the three, at least, despised.\n\n\u201cThere is not only dignity but poetry in almost any kind of business,\u201d\nhe said; \u201cand the dignity does not consist simply in earning an honest\nliving, instead of being a shiftless idler. There is something fine in\nsending ships to foreign lands, and bringing their produce home; in\nsetting machinery to change one article into another; and in gathering\ngrainfields into garners. I can easily understand a man choosing to\ndo business when there is no necessity for it. I have just come from\na sugarstore down-town, where I was astonished to learn that sugar\nis something besides what you sweeten your tea with. It was there\nin samples ranged along the counter, from the raw imported article,\nthat was of a soft amber-color, to lumps as white and glittering as\nhoar-frost. Then there were syrups, gold-colored, crimson, and garnet,\nand so clear that you might think them jewels. I remembered Keats\u2019\n\n  \u2018Lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon.\u2019\n\nThey asked me if I would like to taste these. Would I taste of\ndissolved rubies and carbuncles? Why not I as well as Cleopatra? Of\ncourse I would taste of them. And how do you suppose they presented\nthis repast to me? On a plate or a saucer, a stick or a spoon? By no\nmeans. The Ganymede took on his left thumb a delicate white porcelain\npalette, such as Honora might spread colors on to paint roses,\nheliotropes, and pinks with, and, lifting the jars one by one with his\nright hand, let fall on it a single rich drop, till there was a rainbow\nof deep colors on the white. When I saw that, the sugar business took\nrank at once beside the fine arts. And it is so with other affairs.\nIf I were in the world, I would prefer, both for the pleasure and\nthe honor of it, to be a mechanic or a merchant, to being in any\nprofession.\u201d\n\nWhen the priest had gone, Lawrence Gerald went soberly up to his\nchamber, thinking, as he went, that possibly an ordinary, active life\nmight, after all, be the happiest. The influence of that healthy and\ncheerful nature lifted for a time, if it did not dispel, his illusions,\nas a sudden breath of west wind raises momentarily the heavy fogs,\nwhich settle again as soon as the breath dies. For one brief view, this\ndiseased soul saw realities thrusting their strong angles through the\nvague and feverish dreams that had usurped his life. On the one hand,\nthey showed like jagged rocks that had been deceitfully overveiled by\nsunlighted spray; on the other, like a calm and secure harbor shining\nthrough what had looked to be a dark and weary way.\n\nHe opened a handkerchief-box, and absently turned over its contents,\nrejecting with instinctive disdain the coarser linen, curling his lip\nunconsciously at sight of a large hemstitching, and selecting one that\ndropped out of fold like a fine, snowy mist. A faint odor of attar of\nroses floated out of the box, so faint as to be perceptible only to\na delicate sense. The same rich fragrance embalmed the glove-box he\nopened next, and the young man showed the same fastidious taste in\nselecting.\n\nIt appeared trivial in a man, this feminine-daintiness; yet some excuse\nmight be found for it when one contemplated the exquisite beauty of the\nperson showing it. It seemed fitting that only delicate linen and fine\ncloth should clothe a form so perfect, and that nothing harsh should\ntouch those fair hands, soft and rosy-nailed as a woman\u2019s. Yet how much\nof the beauty and delicacy had come from careful and selfish fostering,\nwho can tell? Physical beauty is but a frail plant, and needs constant\nwatching; it loses its lustre and freshness in proportion as that care\nis given to the immortal flower it bears. Both cannot flourish.\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t mind doing business after it was well established,\u201d he\nmuttered, carefully arranging one lock of hair to fall carelessly over\nhis temple, in contrast with its pure whiteness. \u201cIt is the dingy\nbeginning I hate. I hate anything dingy. People mistake when they fancy\nme extravagant, and that I like show and splendor. I do not like them.\nBut I do like and must have cleanliness, and good taste, and freshness,\nand light, and space.\u201d\n\nWhat he said was in some measure true; and \u201cpity \u2018tis, \u2018tis true\u201d that\nsimple good taste can, in the city at least, be gratified only at an\nextravagant price, and that poverty necessarily entails dinginess.\n\nHe glanced about the room, and frowned with disgust. The ceiling was\nlow, the paper on the walls a cheap and therefore an ugly pattern, the\nchairs and carpet well kept, but a little faded. Plain cotton blinds,\nthose most hideous and bleak of draperies, veiled the two windows, and\nan antiquated old mahogany secretary, the shape of which could have\nbeen tolerable only when the _prestige_ of new fashion surrounded it,\nheld a few books in faded bindings.\n\nThe young man shrugged his shoulders, and went toward the door. As\nhe opened it, the draught blew open another door in the entry, and\ndisclosed the shaded front chamber, with its cool blue and snowy white,\nits one streak of sunshine through a chink in the shutter, and its wax\ncandle burning before the marble Madonna.\n\n\u201cThat is what I like,\u201d he thought, and passed hastily by. Annette would\nbe waiting for him.\n\nThe sensible thoughts inspired by F. Chevreuse lasted only till the\nquiet, shady street was passed. With the first step into South Avenue,\nand the first glance down its superb length, other feelings came,\nand cottages and narrow ways dwindled and were again contemptible.\nThe high walls, and cupola, and spreading wings of his lady\u2019s home\nbecame visible, and he could see the tall pillars of Miss Ferrier\u2019s\nnew conservatory, which was almost as large as the whole of the house\nhe lived in. The fascination of wealth caught him once more, and the\nthought of labor became intolerable.\n\nMiss Ferrier was indeed on the lookout, and, brightening with joyful\nwelcome, came out to the porch to meet her visitor as he entered the\ngate. He had so many times forgotten her invitations that she had not\nfelt sure of him, and the pleasant surprise of his coming made her\nlook almost pretty. Her blue-gray eyes shone, her lips trembled with a\nsmile, and a light seemed to strike up through her excessively frizzled\nflaxen hair. If it had only been Honora! But, as it was, he met her\nkindly, feeling a momentary pity for her. \u201cPoor girl! she is so fond of\nme!\u201d he thought complacently, feeling it to be his due, even while he\npitied her. \u201cBut I wish she wouldn\u2019t put so much on. She looks like a\ncomet.\u201d\n\nFor Miss Ferrier\u2019s pink organdie flounces streamed out behind her in a\nmanner that might indeed have suggested that celestial phenomenon. She\nhad, however, robbed Peter to pay Paul; for, whereas one end of her\nrobe exceeded, the other as notably lacked.\n\n\u201cMamma has not yet come back from her drive,\u201d she remarked, leading the\nway into the drawing-room. \u201cIt is astonishing what keeps her so long.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! it\u2019s one of her distribution days, isn\u2019t it?\u201d Lawrence asked, with\na little glimmer of amusement that brought the blood into his lady\u2019s\nface.\n\nTwo mornings of every week, Mrs. Ferrier piled her carriage full of\nparcels containing food and clothing, and drove off into some of the\npoorest streets of the town, where her pensioners gathered about her,\nand told their troubles, and received her sympathy and help. The good\nsoul, being very stout, did not once leave her carriage, but sat there\nenthroned upon the cushions like some bountiful but rather apoplectic\ngoddess, showering about her cotton and flannels, and tea and sugar,\nand tears and condolences, and perhaps a few complaints with them. It\nis more than probable that, under cover of this princely charity, Mrs.\nFerrier had a little congenial gossip now and then. Among these poor\nwomen were many no poorer than she had once been, and they were much\nnearer to her heart and sympathies than those whom Annette brought to\nher gorgeous drawing-rooms. Mrs. Ferrier was far from wishing to be\npoor again, but for all that she had found wealth a sad restriction on\nher tastes and her liberty. To her mind, the restraints of society were\nworse than a strait-jacket, and it required all Annette\u2019s authority\nto keep her from defying them openly. But here she was at home, and\ncould speak her own language, and at the same time be looked on as a\nsuperior being. Jack and John could leave the carriage, and step into\nthe little ale-house at the corner; and, if one of them should bring\nher out a foaming glass, the simple creature would not resent it. There\nwas always an idle urchin about who was only too proud to stand at the\nhorses\u2019 heads while Mrs. Ferrier had a chat with some crony, who leaned\ntoward her over the carriage-steps.\n\nMiss Annette was sometimes troubled by a suspicion that her mother did\nnot always maintain with her _prot\u00e9g\u00e9es_ as dignified a distance as was\ndesirable; but she was far from guessing the extent of the good lady\u2019s\ncondescension. Her hair would have stood on end had she seen that glass\nof ale handed into the carriage, and the beaming smile that rewarded\nJohn, the footman, for bringing it. Her misgivings were strong enough,\nhowever, to make her blush with mortification when Lawrence spoke of\nthe distribution days. The pleasure with which she had anticipated\na short _t\u00eate-\u00e0-t\u00eate_ with her intended husband died away, and she\nseated herself in a window, and anxiously watched for her mother\u2019s\ncoming.\n\nShe was not kept long in suspense. First there appeared through the\nthickly flowering horse-chestnut trees a pair of bright bays so trained\nand held in that their perpendicular motion equalled their forward\nprogress; then a britzska that glittered like the chariot of the\nsun. In this vehicle sat Mrs. Ferrier in solitary state. One might\nhave detected some apprehension in the first glance she cast toward\nthe drawing-room windows; but, at sight of the young man sitting\nthere beside her daughter, she tossed her head, and resumed her\nself-confidence. She had a word to say to him.\n\nJack brought his horses round in so neat a curve that the wheels\nmissed the curbstone by only a hair\u2019s breadth; and John descended from\nthe perch\u2014whence during three hours he had enjoyed the view of a\nblack-leather horizon over-nodded by the tip of Mrs. Ferrier\u2019s plume of\nfeathers\u2014and let down the step.\n\nWe are obliged to confess that Mrs. Ferrier descended from her carriage\nas a sailor descends the ratlines, only with less agility. But, what\nwould you? She was already of a mature age when greatness was thrust\nupon her, and had not been able to change with her circumstances.\nMoreover, she was heavy and timid, and subject to vertigo.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m much obliged to you, John,\u201d she said, finding herself safely\nlanded. \u201cNow, if you will bring that parcel in. I\u2019d just as lief carry\nit myself, only....\u201d\n\nA glance toward the drawing-room window finished the sentence. Of\ncourse, Miss Annette would be shocked to see her mother waiting on\nherself; and, in all matters relating to social propriety, this poor\nmother stood greatly in awe of her daughter, and, indeed, led quite a\nwretched life with her.\n\nAs the lady walked through the gate and up the steps, with a\nhalf-distressed, half-defiant consciousness of being criticised, one\nmight find a slight excuse for the smile that showed for an instant\non the lips of her intended son-in-law; for it must be owned that in\ndecoration Mrs. Ferrier was of a style almost as Corinthian as her\nhouse-front. A rustling green satin gown showed in tropical contrast\nwith a yellow crape shawl and a bird-of-paradise feather; she had curls\nand crimps, she had flounces and frills, she had chains and trinkets,\nshe had rings on her fingers, and we should not be surprised if she had\nbells on her toes.\n\n\u201cO mamma!\u201d cried Annette, running out into the hall, \u201cwhat made you go\nout dressed like a paroquet?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, green and yellow go together,\u201d mamma replied stoutly. \u201cI\u2019ve heard\nyou say that they make the prettiest flag in the world.\u201d\n\nThe young woman made a little gesture of despair _\u00e0 la Fran\u00e7aise_. \u201cOf\ncourse, colors can\u2019t help going together when they\u2019re put together,\u201d\nshe said. \u201cThe question is whether they are in good taste. And cannot\nyou see, mamma, that what is very fine for a banner isn\u2019t proper for a\nlady\u2019s dress? But no matter, since it cannot be helped. And now, I have\nsomething to tell you. I read in a book this morning that fleshy people\ncould make themselves thinner by giving up vegetables and sweets, and\nliving on rare beef and fruits, and using all the vinegar they could on\nthings. That\u2019s worth your trying.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut I don\u2019t like raw beef and vinegar,\u201d cried the mother in dismay.\n\n\u201cIt is not a question of liking,\u201d replied the young woman loftily. \u201cIt\nis a question of health, and comfort, and good looks. It certainly\ncannot be to you a matter of indifference that the whole neighborhood\nlaugh behind their blinds to see you back down out of the carriage.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet \u2018em laugh,\u201d said the mother sulkily. \u201cThey\u2019d be willing to back\nout of carriages all their lives if they could have such as mine.\u201d\n\nAnnette drew herself up with great dignity: \u201cMamma, I do not consider\nanything trivial when it concerns the credit of the family. To keep\nthat up, I would starve, I would work, I would perform any hardship.\u201d\n\nTo do the girl justice, she spoke but the truth.\n\n\u201cYou might take claret with lemon in it, instead of vinegar,\u201d she\nadded after a moment. \u201cAnd, by the way, I have ordered dinner at\nhalf-past four, so as to be through in time for an early rehearsal. Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger is engaged for the evening, and they are all to be here by\nhalf-past five. Do be careful, ma. Mrs. Gerald is coming up.\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t care for \u2018em!\u201d Mrs. Ferrier burst forth. \u201cI\u2019m tired of having\nto mince and pucker for the sake of those Geralds. What are they to me?\nAll they want of us is our money.\u201d\n\nAnnette hushed her mother, and tried to soothe her, leading the way\ninto a side room; but, having begun, the honest creature must free\nher mind. \u201cYou\u2019ve had your say, and now I want to have mine,\u201d she\npersisted, but consented to lower her voice to a more confidential\npitch. \u201cI\u2019m going to have a talk with Lawrence to-day when dinner is\nover. I sha\u2019n\u2019t put it off. If company comes before I get through, you\nmust entertain them. My mind is made up.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! gracious, mamma!\u201d cried Annette, turning pale.\n\n\u201cThere are some things that you know best, and some that I know best,\u201d\nthe elder woman went on, with a steady firmness that became her. \u201cI\ngive up to you a good deal, and you must give up to me when the time\ncomes. I shall talk to that young man to-day; and, if you know what is\nbest for you, then say no more about it. You are not fit to take care\nof yourself where he is concerned, and I\u2019m going to do it for you. No\nmatter what I want to say to him. It is my place to look out for that.\nAll you have to do is to be quiet, and not interfere.\u201d\n\nAnnette was silent; and, if you had looked in her face then, you would\nhave seen that it by no means indicated a weak character. She was\nlooking at facts sharply and bravely, considering which of two pains\nshe had better choose, and swiftly coming to a decision. Strong as was\nher will in that province where she ruled, it was but a reed compared\nwith the determination her mother showed when her mind was made up. The\ndaughter would sometimes yield rather than contend, and she was always\nready with reasons and arguments to prove herself right. But the mother\nhad none of that shrinking, on the contrary, took pleasure in having\na little skirmish now and then to relieve the tedium of her peaceful\nexistence; and, not being gifted in reasoning, was wont to assert her\nwill in a rather hard and uncompromising manner. Moreover, having once\nsaid that she would or would not act in any certain manner, she never\nallowed herself to be moved from that resolve. This was so well known\nto her family and intimates that they took care not to provoke her to a\npremature decision on questions that affected their interests.\n\n\u201cWell, mamma,\u201d Annette said, looking very pale as she yielded, \u201cyou\nmust do as you please. But don\u2019t forget that Lawrence has not been used\nto rough words. And now it is time for you to change your dress.\u201d\n\nAt these words, the sceptre changed hands again. Mrs. Ferrier sighed\nwearily, remembering the happy days when she could put on a gown in the\nmorning, and not take it off till she went to bed at night.\n\nJohn, the footman, sat in the hall as the two ladies came out of the\nlibrary, and, instead of going directly up-stairs as her daughter\nreturned to the drawing-room, Mrs. Ferrier made a little pretence of\nlooking out through the porch, to learn the cause of some imaginary\ndisturbance. When at length she went toward the stairs, she was\nfumbling in her pocket, and presently drew out a small parcel, which\nshe tossed down over the balusters to John, standing under. The paper\nunfolded in falling, and disclosed a gorgeous purple and gold neck-tie,\nwhich the footman at once hid in his pocket.\n\n\u201cDo you like the colors, John?\u201d she asked, leaning over the rail, and\nsmiling down benignantly.\n\nHe nodded, with a quick, short answering smile, which shot like\nlightning across his ruddy face, disturbing for only an instant its\ndignified gravity.\n\n\u201cMa, are you going up-stairs?\u201d called Annette\u2019s sharp voice from the\ndrawing-room.\n\n\u201cYes; if you\u2019ll give me time,\u201d answered \u201cma,\u201d hastening on.\n\nThere was no reason why she should not buy, now and then, a little gift\nfor her servants, and there was no need of proclaiming what she had\ndone, and so making the others jealous. Or perhaps John had asked his\nmistress to exercise her taste in his behalf, himself paying for the\nfinery. He was a very sensible, independent man, and did not need to be\npecuniarily assisted.\n\nAt the head of the stairs, the mistress of the house met Bettie, the\nchambermaid, who had been a witness to this little scene.\n\n\u201cHow do you get along, Bettie?\u201d the lady asked, trying to patronize.\n\nThe girl turned her back and flounced away, muttering something about\nsome folks who couldn\u2019t get along so well as some other folks, who\ncould go throwing presents over the balustrade to other folks.\n\nPoor Bettie! perhaps she envied John his neck-tie.\n\nThe rich woman went into her chamber, and shut the door. \u201cI declare,\nI\u2019m sick of the way I have to live,\u201d she whimpered, wiping her eyes.\n\u201cI don\u2019t dare to say my soul\u2019s my own. I\u2019m afraid to speak, or hold my\ntongue, or move, or sit still, or put on clothes, or leave \u2018em off,\nor to look out of my eyes when they\u2019re open.\u201d She wiped the features\nin question again. \u201cAnd now I\u2019m likely to be starved,\u201d she resumed\ndespairingly; \u201cfor, if Annette sets out to make me do anything, she\nnever lets me rest till I do it. I was happier when I had but one gown\nto my back, and could act as I pleased, than I\u2019ve ever been with all\nthe finery, and servants, and carriages that are bothering the life out\nof me now. It\u2019s all nonsense, this killing yourself to try to be like\nsomebody else, when what you are is just as good as what anybody is.\u201d\n\nWhich was not at all a foolish conclusion, though it might have been\nmore elegantly expressed.\n\nShe stood a moment fixed in thought, her face brightening. \u201cI\ndeclare,\u201d she muttered, \u201cI\u2019ve a good mind to\u2014\u201c but did not finish the\nsentence.\n\nA wavering smile played over her lips; and as she sat on the edge of\nthe sofa, with a stout arm propping her on either side, and her heavily\njewelled hands buried in the cushions, Mrs. Ferrier sank into a reverie\nwhich had every appearance of being rose-colored.\n\nWhen she was moderately pleased, this woman was not ill-looking, though\nher insignificant features were somewhat swamped in flesh. Her eyes\nwere pleasant, her complexion fresh, her teeth sound, and the abundant\ndark-brown hair was unmistakably her own.\n\nShe started, and blushed with apprehension, as the door was briskly\nopened, and her daughter\u2019s head thrust in. What if Annette should know\nwhat she had been thinking of?\n\n\u201cMa,\u201d said that young woman, \u201cyou had better wear a black grenadine,\nand the amethyst brooch and ear-rings.\u201d\n\nHaving given this brief order, the girl banged the door in her\nenergetic way; but, before it was well shut, opened it again.\n\n\u201cAnd pray, don\u2019t thank the servants at table.\u201d\n\nAgain the Mentor disappeared, and a second time came back for a last\nword. \u201cO ma! I\u2019ve given orders about the lemons and claret, and you\u2019d\nbetter begin to-day, and see how you can get along with such diet. I\nwouldn\u2019t eat much, if I were you. You\u2019ve no idea how little food you\ncan live upon till you try. I shouldn\u2019t be at all surprised if you were\nto thin away beautifully.\u201d\n\nAt last she departed in earnest.\n\nMrs. Ferrier lifted both hands, and raised her eyes to the ceiling.\n\u201cWho ever heard,\u201d she cried, \u201cof anybody with an empty stomach sitting\ndown to a full table, and not eating what they wanted?\u201d\n\nThis poor creature had probably never heard of Sancho Panza, and\nperhaps it would not much have comforted her could she have read his\nhistory.\n\nWe pass over the toilet scene, where Nance, Miss Annette\u2019s maid, nearly\ndrove the simple lady distracted with her fastidious ideas regarding\ncolors and shapes; and the dinner, where Mrs. Ferrier sat in bitterness\nof soul with a slice of what she called raw beef on her plate, and\na tumbler of very much acidulated claret and water, in place of the\nfoaming ale that had been wont to lull her to her afternoon slumber.\nThese things did not, however, sweeten her temper, nor soften her\nresolutions. It may be that they rendered her a little more inexorable.\nIt is certain that Mr. Gerald did not find her remarkably amiable\nduring the repast, and was not sorry when she left the dining-room,\nwhere he and Louis Ferrier stopped to smoke a cigar.\n\nShe did not leave him in peace though, but planted a thorn at parting.\n\n\u201cI want to see you in the library about something in particular, as\nsoon as you have got through here,\u201d she said, with an air that was a\nlittle more commanding than necessary.\n\nHe smiled and bowed, but a slight frown settled on his handsome face\nas he looked after her. What track was she on now? \u201cDo you know what\nthe indictment is, Louis?\u201d he asked presently, having lighted a cigar,\nturned his side to the table, on which he leaned, and placed his feet\nin the chair Annette had occupied. \u201cMilady looked as though the jury\nhad found a bill.\u201d\n\nLouis Ferrier, whom we need not occupy our time in describing, didn\u2019t\nknow what the row was, really; couldn\u2019t tell; never troubled himself\nabout ma\u2019s affairs.\n\nLawrence smoked away vigorously, two or three lines coming between his\nsmoothly-curved eyebrows; and, as the cigar diminished, his irritation\nincreased. Presently he threw the cigar-end impatiently through an open\nwindow near, and brought his feet to the floor with an emphasis that\nmade his companion stare.\n\n\u201cIf there is anything I hate,\u201d he cried out, \u201cit is being called away\ninto a corner to hear something particular. I always know it means\nsomething disagreeable. If you want to set me wild, just step up to\nme mysteriously, and say that you wish to speak to me about something\nparticular. Women are always doing such things. Men never do, unless\nthey are policemen.\u201d\n\nYoung Mr. Ferrier sat opposite the speaker, lolling on the table with\nhis elbows widespread, and a glass of wine between them, from which he\ncould drink without raising it, merely tipping the brim to his pale\nlittle moustache. He took a sip before answering, and, still retaining\nhis graceful position, rolled up a pair of very light-blue eyes as he\nsaid, in a lisping voice that was insufferably supercilious: \u201cMa never\ndoes, unless it\u2019s something about money. You may be pretty sure it\u2019s\nsomething about money.\u201d\n\nThe clear, pale profile opposite him suddenly turned a deep pink, and\nLawrence looked round at him with a sharp glance, before which his\nfell. The little drawling speech had been delivered with more of a\ndrawl than that habitual to Mr. Ferrier, perhaps, and it seemed that\nthere was a slight emphasis which might be regarded as significant.\nGerald had not taken any great pains to conciliate his prospective\nbrother-in-law, and Louis liked to remind him occasionally that the\nadvantages were not all on one side.\n\nLawrence rose carelessly from the table, and filliped a crumb of bread\noff his vest. \u201cI say, Louis,\u201d he remarked, \u201cdo you know you have\nrather a peculiar way of putting your head down to your food, instead\nof raising your food to your mouth? Reminds one of\u2014well, now, it\u2019s a\nlittle like the quadrupeds, isn\u2019t it? Excuse me, that may be taken as\na compliment. I\u2019m not sure but quadrupeds have, on the whole, rather\nbetter manners than bipeds. Grace isn\u2019t everything. Money is the chief\nthing, after all. You can gild such wooden things with it. I\u2019m going to\ntalk about it with your mother. Good-by! Don\u2019t take too much wine.\u201d\n\nHe sauntered out of the room, and shut the door behind him. \u201cVulgar\nplace!\u201d he muttered, going through the entries. \u201cWorsted rainbows\neverywhere. I wonder Annette did not know better.\u201d A contrasting\npicture floated up before his mind of a cool, darkened chamber, all\npure white and celestial blue, with two little golden flames burning in\na shady nook before a marble saint, and one slender sun-ray stretched\nathwart, as though the place had been let down from heaven, and the\ngolden rope still held it moored to that peaceful shore. The contrast\ngave him a stifled feeling.\n\nAs he passed the drawing-room door, he saw Annette seated near it,\nevidently on the watch for him. She started up and ran to the door the\nmoment he appeared. Her face had been very pale, but now the color\nfluttered in it. She looked at him with anxious entreaty.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t mind if mamma is rather ... odd,\u201d she whispered hurriedly. \u201cYou\nknow she has a rough way of speaking, but she means well.\u201d\n\nHe looked down, and only just suffered her slender fingers to rest on\nhis arm.\n\n\u201cI would help it if I could, Lawrence,\u201d she went on tremulously. \u201cI do\nthe best I can, but there are times when mamma won\u2019t listen to me. Try\nnot to mind what she may say ... for my sake!\u201d\n\nPoor Annette! She had not yet learned not to make that tender plea with\nher promised husband. He tried to hide that it irritated him.\n\n\u201cUpon my word, I begin to think that something terrible is coming,\u201d he\nsaid, forcing a laugh. \u201cThe sooner I go and get it over, the better.\nDon\u2019t be alarmed. I promise not to resent anything except personal\nviolence. When it comes to blows, I must protect myself. But you can\u2019t\nexpect a man to promise not to mind when he doesn\u2019t know what is going\nto happen.\u201d\n\nA door at the end of the hall was opened, and Mrs. Ferrier looked out\nimpatiently.\n\n\u201c\u2018Anon, anon, sir!\u2019\u201d the young man cried. \u201cNow for it, Annette. One,\ntwo, three! Let us be brave, and stand by each other. I am gone!\u201d\n\nLet _us_ stand by each other! Oh! yes; for ever and ever! The light\ncame back to the girl\u2019s face at that. She no longer feared anything if\nshe and Lawrence were to stand together.\n\nMr. Gerald walked slowly down the hall. If his languid step and\ncareless air meant fearlessness, who can tell? He entered the library,\nwhere Mrs. Ferrier sat like a highly colored statue carved in a green\nchair, her hands in her lap (her paws in her lap, the young man thought\nsavagely). She looked stolid and determined. The calm superiority which\nhe could assume with Annette would have no effect here. Not only was\nMrs. Ferrier not in love with him, which made a vast difference, but\nshe was incapable of appreciating his real advantages over her, though,\nperhaps, a mistaken perception of them inspired her at times with a\nsort of dislike. There is nothing which a low and rude mind more surely\nresents and distrusts than gentle manners.\n\nThe self-possessed and supercilious man of society quailed before the\n_ci-devant_ washwoman. What would she care for a scene? What shrinking\nwould she have from the insulting word, the coarse taunt? What fine\nsense had she to stop her at the point where enough had been said, and\nprevent the gratuitous pouring out of all that anger that showed in her\nsullen face? Lawrence Gerald took a strong hold on his self-control,\nand settled instantly upon the only course of action possible to him.\nHe could not defy the woman, for he was in some way in her power. He\ncould marry Annette in spite of her, but that would be to make Annette\nworse than worthless to him. Not one dollar could he ever hope to\nreceive if he made an enemy of Mrs. Ferrier; and money he must have.\nHe felt now with a new keenness, when he perceived himself to be in\ndanger of loss, how terrible it would be to find those expectations of\nprosperity which he had been entertaining snatched away from him.\n\nMrs. Ferrier looked at him glumly, not lady enough to point him to\na seat, or to smooth in any way the approaches to a disagreeable\ninterview. There was no softness nor delicacy in her nature, and\nnow her heart was full of jealous suspicion and a sense of outraged\njustice, as she understood justice.\n\nThe young man seated himself in a chair directly in front of her\u2014he\nwould not act as though afraid to meet her gaze\u2014leaned forward with\nhis arms on his knees, looked down at the eyeglasses he held, and\nwaited for her to begin. A more polite attitude would have been thrown\naway on her, and he needed some little shield. Besides, her threatening\nlooks had been so undisguised that an assumption of smiling ease would\nonly have increased her anger.\n\nThe woman\u2019s hard, critical eyes looked him over as he waited there,\nand marked the finish of his toilet, and reckoned the cost of it, and\nsnapped at sight of the deep purple amethysts in his cuff-buttons, not\nknowing that they were heir-looms, and the gift of his mother. He was\ndressed quite like a fine gentleman, she thought; and yet, what was\nhe? Nothing but a pauper who was trying to get her money. She longed\nto tell him so, and would have expressed herself quite plainly to that\neffect upon a very small provocation.\n\n\u201cI want to know if you\u2019ve broken that promise you made me six months\nago,\u201d she said roughly, having grown more angry with this survey. \u201cI\nhear that you have.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat promise?\u201d he asked calmly, glancing up.\n\n\u201cYou know well enough what I mean,\u201d she retorted. \u201cYou promised never\nto gamble again, and I told you what you might depend on if you did,\nand I mean to keep my word. Now, I should like to know the truth. I\u2019ve\nbeen hearing things about you.\u201d\n\nA deep red stained his face, and his lips were pressed tightly\ntogether. It was hard to be spoken to in that way, and not resent\nit. \u201cWhen I make a promise, I usually keep it,\u201d he replied, in a\nconstrained voice.\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s no answer to my question,\u201d Mrs. Ferrier exclaimed, her hands\nclenching themselves in her lap. \u201cI\u2019ll have the truth without any\nroundabout. Somebody\u2014no matter who\u2014has told me you owe fifteen\nhundred dollars that you lost by gambling. Is it true or not? That is\nwhat I want to know.\u201d\n\nLawrence Gerald raised his bright eyes, and looked steadily at her. \u201cIt\nis false!\u201d he said.\n\nThis calm and deliberate denial disconcerted Mrs. Ferrier. She had not\nexpected him to confess fully to such a charge; neither, much as she\ndistrusted him, had she thought him capable of a deliberate lie if the\ncharge were true\u2014some sense of his better qualities had penetrated her\nthus far\u2014but she had looked for shuffling and evasion.\n\nHe was not slow to see that the battle was at an end, and in the same\nmoment his perfect self-restraint vanished. \u201cMay I ask where you heard\nthis interesting story?\u201d he demanded, drawing himself up.\n\nHer confusion increased. The truth was that she had heard it from her\nson; but Louis had begged her not to betray him as the informant, and\nhis story had been founded on hints merely. \u201cIt\u2019s no use telling where\nI heard it,\u201d she said. \u201cI\u2019ll take your word. But since you\u2019ve given\nthat, of course you won\u2019t have any objection to giving your oath. If\nyou will swear that you don\u2019t owe any gambling debts, I\u2019ll say no more,\nunless I hear more.\u201d\n\nHe reddened violently. \u201cI will not do it!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cIf my word\nis not good, my oath would not be. You ought to be satisfied. And if\nyou will allow me, I will go to Annette now, unless you have some other\nsubject to propose.\u201d\n\nHe had risen, his manner full of haughtiness, when she stopped him: \u201cI\nhaven\u2019t quite got through yet. Don\u2019t be in such a hurry.\u201d\n\nHe did not seat himself again, but, leaning on the back of a chair,\nlooked at her fully.\n\n\u201cI wish you would sit down,\u201d she said. \u201cIt isn\u2019t pleasant to have you\nstanding up when I want to talk to you.\u201d\n\nHe smiled, not very pleasantly, and seated himself, looking at her with\na steady gaze that was inexpressibly bitter and secretive. She returned\nit with a more piercing regard than one would have thought those\ninsignificant eyes capable of. She had not been able to understand his\nproud scruple, and her suspicions were alive again.\n\n\u201cIf all goes right,\u201d she began, watching him closely, \u201cI\u2019m willing that\nyou and Annette should be married the first of September. I\u2019ve made up\nmy mind what I will do for you. You shall have five hundred dollars to\ngo on a journey with, and then you will come back and live with me here\ntwo years. I\u2019ll give you your board, and make Annette an allowance of\nfive hundred a year, and see about some business for you. But I won\u2019t\npay any debts; and, if any such debts come up as we have been talking\nabout, off you will go. If this story I\u2019ve heard turns out to be true,\nnot one dollar more of mine do you ever get, no matter when I find it\nout.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will speak to Annette about it,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cIs that all?\u201d\n\nShe answered with a short nod.\n\nAnnette was anxiously waiting for him. \u201cWhat is it?\u201d she asked, when\nshe saw his face.\n\nHe snatched his hat from the table. \u201cCome out into the air,\u201d he said;\n\u201cI am stifling here.\u201d\n\nShe followed him into the gardens, where an arbor screened them from\nview. \u201cDid you know what your mother was going to say to me?\u201d he asked.\n\n\u201cNo!\u201d It was all she had strength to utter.\n\n\u201cNothing of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing, Lawrence. I saw that she did not mean to tell me, so I would\nnot ask. Don\u2019t keep me in suspense.\u201d\n\nHe hesitated a moment. Since she did not know, there was no need to\ntell her all. He told her only her mother\u2019s plans regarding their\nmarriage.\n\n\u201cYou see it\u2019s a sort of ticket-of-leave,\u201d he said, smiling faintly. \u201cWe\nare to be under _surveillance_. Hadn\u2019t you better give me up, Annette?\nShe will like any one else better.\u201d\n\nThe sky and garden swam round before her eyes. She said nothing, but\nwaited.\n\n\u201cI only propose it for your sake,\u201d he added more gently, startled at\nher pallor. \u201cIn marrying me, you run the risk of being poor. If that\ndoesn\u2019t frighten you, then it\u2019s all right.\u201d\n\nHer color came back again; but no smile came with it. These shocks had\nbeen repeated too many times to find her with the same elasticity.\n\n\u201cThis cannot go on a great while,\u201d she said, folding her hands in her\nlap, and looking down. \u201cMamma cannot always be so unreasonable. The\nbest way now is to make no opposition to her, whatever she proposes. I\nmay be able to influence her as we wish after a while. You may be sure\nthat I shall try. Meantime, let us be quiet. I have learned, Lawrence,\nnever to contend unless I can be pretty sure of victory. It is a hard\nlesson, but we have to learn it, and many harder ones, too. The best\nway for you is to laugh and seem careless, whether you feel so or not.\nThe one who laughs succeeds. It is strange, but the moment a person\nacts as if he felt humiliated, people seem to be possessed of a desire\nto humiliate him still more. It doesn\u2019t do in the world to confess to\nany weakness or failure. I have always noticed that people stand in awe\nof those who appear to be perfectly self-confident and contented.\u201d\n\nLawrence Gerald looked at her in surprise as she said this in a calm\nand steady way quite new to him. Some thought of her being strong and\nhelpful in other ways besides money-bringing glanced through his mind.\n\u201cYou know the world at least, Annette,\u201d he said, with a half-smile.\n\nNo smile nor word replied. She was looking back, and remembering how\nshe had learned the world. She, a poor, low-born girl, ignorant but\nenthusiastic and daring, had been suddenly endowed with wealth, and\nthrown upon that world with no one to teach her how to act properly.\nShe had learned by the sneers and bitterness, the ridicule and\njibes, her blunders had excited. Mortification, anger, tears, and\ndisappointments had taught her. Instead of having been led, she had\nbeen spurred along the way of life. She had seen her best intentions\nand most generous feelings held as nothing, because of some fault\nin their manifestation; had found the friendships she grasped at,\nbelieving them real, change to an evasive coldness with only a\nsurface-froth of sweet pretence. Strife lay behind her, and, looking\nforward, she saw strife in the future. As she made this swift review,\nit happened to her as it has happened to others when some crisis or\nsome strong emotion has forced them to lift their eyes from their\nimmediate daily cares; and as the curtain veiling the future wavered in\nthat breeze, they have caught a glimpse of life as a whole, and found\nit terrible. Perhaps in that moment Annette Ferrier saw nothing but\ndust and ashes in all her hopes of earthly happiness, and felt a brief\nlonging to hide her face from them for ever.\n\n\u201cYour company are coming,\u201d Lawrence said. He had been watching her with\ncuriosity and surprise. It was the first time she had ever disregarded\nhis presence, and the first time he had found her really worthy of\nrespect.\n\nShe roused herself, not with a start, as if coming back to a real\npresent from some trivial abstraction, but slowly and almost\nreluctantly, as though turning from weighty matters to attend to\ntrifles.\n\n\u201cCan you be bright and cheerful now?\u201d she asked, smiling on him with\nsome unconscious superiority in her air. \u201cThese little things are not\nworth fretting for. All will come right, if we keep up our courage.\u201d\n\nAs she held out her hand to him, he took it in his and carried it to\nhis lips. \u201cYou\u2019re a good creature!\u201d he said most sincerely.\n\nAnd in this amicable frame of mind they went to join the company.\n\nCrichton was eminently a musical city. In the other arts, they were\nperhaps superficial and pretentious; but this of music was ardently and\nassiduously cultivated by every one. Wealthy ladies studied it with all\nthe devotion of professional people, and there were not a few who might\nhave made it a successful profession. Among these was Annette Ferrier,\nwhose clear, high soprano had a brilliant effect in _bravuras_ or\ncompositions requiring strong passion in the rendering. All this talent\nand cultivation the Crichton ladies did not by any means allow to be\nwasted in private life. Clubs and associations kept up their emulation\nand skill, and charitable objects and public festivals afforded them\nthe opportunity for that public display without which their zeal might\nhave languished. The present rehearsal was for one of these concerts.\n\nThey were to sing in the new conservatory, which was admirable for\nthat purpose. It was only just completed\u2014an immense parallelogram\njoined to the southwestern corner of the house, with a high roof, and\ntall pillars making a sort of porch at the end. No plants had yet been\narranged, but azaleas and rhododendrons in full bloom had been brought\nin and set in a thicket along the bases of the pillars, looking, in all\ntheir airy roseate flush of graduated tints, as if a sunset cloud had\ndropped there. Against this background the benches for the singers were\nranged, and Annette\u2019s grand piano brought out for Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger, their\nleader. Sofas and arm-chairs were placed near the long windows opening\ninto the house for a small company of listeners.\n\n\u201cI wish Mother Chevreuse could have come,\u201d Mrs. Ferrier said, surveying\nthe preparations with complacent satisfaction.\n\nMother Chevreuse was employed much more to her own liking than she\nwould have been in listening to the most excellent music in the world:\nshe was waiting for her son to come home from his collecting, and take\ntea with her in her cosy little parlor. If the day should prove to\nhave been successful to him, then he could rest a whole month; and,\nin expectation of his success, she had made a little gala of it, and\nadorned her room and table with flowers. The curtains next the church\nwere looped back, to show a group of sunlighted tree-tops and an edge\nof a bright cloud, since the high walls hid the sunset from this room.\nThe priest\u2019s slippers and dressing-gown were ready for him, and an\narm-chair set in his favorite place. He must rest after his hard day\u2019s\nwork. The evening paper lay folded within reach.\n\nMother Chevreuse looked smilingly about, and saw that all was ready.\nThe green china tea-set and beautiful old-fashioned silver that had\nbeen preserved from her wedding presents made the little table look\ngay, and the flowers and a plate of golden honeycomb added a touch\nof poetry. Everything was as she would have wished it\u2014the picture\nbeautifully peaceful and homelike.\n\n\u201cWhat would he do without me?\u201d she murmured involuntarily.\n\nThe thought called up a train of sad fancies, and, as she stood looking\nout toward the last sunny cloud of evening, long quivering rays seemed\nto stretch toward her from it. She clasped her hands and raised her\neyes, to pray that she might long be spared to him; but the words were\nstopped on her lips. There was a momentary struggle, then \u201cThy will be\ndone!\u201d dropped faintly.\n\nAt this moment, she heard a familiar step on the sidewalk, the street\ndoor opened and banged to again, and in a moment more F. Chevreuse\nstood on the threshold, his face bright with exercise and pleasure.\n\n\u201cWell?\u201d his mother said, seeing success in his air.\n\nHe drew himself up with an expression of immense consequence, and began\nto declaim:\n\n  \u201c\u2018Dick,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018What,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018Fetch me my hat,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018For I will go,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018To Timahoe,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018To the fair,\u2019 says he,\n  \u2018To buy all that\u2019s there,\u2019 says he.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ve made out the whole sum!\u201d was her joyful interpretation.\n\n\u201cYes; and more,\u201d he answered. \u201cI am rich, Mother Chevreuse. All the\nway home, my mind has been running on golden altar-services and old\nmasters.\u201d\n\nMother Chevreuse seated herself behind the tea-tray, set a green and\ngold cup into its appropriate saucer, and selected a particular spoon\nwhich she always gave her son\u2014one with a wheat-ear curling about\nthe quaint, half-effaced initials; he, insensible man that he was,\nunconscious whether it was silver or tin.\n\n\u201cWhile you have a resting-place for the Master of masters, you need not\ngive much thought to any other,\u201d she said. \u201cBut I own that my thoughts\noften run on a golden altar-service. Only to-day I was reckoning that\nwhat I possess of my own would buy one.\u201d\n\n\u201cO vanity!\u201d laughed the priest. \u201cYou want to make a show, mother.\nInstead of being content to help with the brick and mortar, or the iron\npillars, you must approach the very Holy of Holies, and shine in the\ntabernacle itself. Fie, Mother Chevreuse!\u201d\n\n\u201cI mentioned it to F. White,\u201d she said, \u201cand he almost reproved me.\nHe said that there was more need of feeding the hungry than of buying\ngolden altar-vessels. I told him that gold endures, but bread is soon\neaten; and he answered that, if the eating of bread saved from theft\nor starvation, and put hope into a breaking heart, it was making finer\ngold than could be wrought into a chalice. A good deal of grace may be\nfound in a loaf of bread, said F. White.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s true,\u201d answered the priest cheerfully. \u201cF. White has sense,\nthough he grudges me a gold chalice. I\u2019ll remember that when he comes\nhere begging for his organ. F. White, says I, it\u2019s sheer vanity to talk\nof organs when there are suffering poor in the world. A tobacco-pipe is\nbetter than an organ-pipe, when it stops an oath in the mouth of a poor\nhod-carrier who has no other comfort but his smoke. Much grace may be\nfound in a clay pipe, F. White, my darling.\u201d\n\nMerry, foolish talk, but innocent and restful.\n\n\u201cAnd, by the way,\u201d resumed the priest, \u201cthat same F. White has gone\naway, and I must go and attend a sick call for him. I got the telegram\nas I came along.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot to-night!\u201d the mother exclaimed.\n\n\u201cYes, to-night. I sent word that I would come. The man is in danger.\nBesides, I could not spare time to-morrow forenoon. I can drive the\nfive miles before ten o\u2019clock, stay the rest of the night there, and\ncome home in the morning in time to say Mass at six o\u2019clock. That is\nthe best plan. I don\u2019t care to be out very late.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the better way,\u201d she said, but looked disappointed. \u201cI don\u2019t\nlike to have you out late at night, it gives you such headaches.\u201d\n\n\u201cHeadache is easier to bear than heart-ache, mother,\u201d said the priest\nbrightly, and went to the window to give Andrew his order for the\ncarriage. \u201cHave it ready in front of the church at a quarter before\nnine o\u2019clock,\u201d he said. \u201cAnd, Andrew, light the gas in the sacristy.\u201d\n\nMother Chevreuse anxiously served her son, urged him to take a muffler,\nlest the night air should prove chilly, poured a second cup of tea\nfor him, and, when he was ready to start, stood looking earnestly at\nhim, half in pride of his stalwart manliness, half in tender, motherly\nanxiety lest some accident should befall him on the long, lonely drive.\n\n\u201cHadn\u2019t you better take Andrew with you?\u201d she suggested.\n\n\u201cAnd why should I take Andrew with me?\u201d the priest asked, putting a\nstole in his pocket.\n\n\u201cWhy ...\u201d she hesitated, ashamed of her womanish fears.\n\n\u201cAn excellent reason!\u201d he laughed. \u201cNo, madam; I shall take no one\nwith me but my good angel. My buggy holds but two. Good-night. Sleep\nsoundly, and God bless you!\u201d\n\nShe stood with her lips slightly parted, watching him earnestly, as if\nfearful of losing some slight word or glance; but his cheerful talk\nwoke no smile in her face.\n\nHe would not appear to notice anything unusual in her manner, and was\ngoing out, when she stopped him.\n\n\u201cGive me your blessing, dear, before you go,\u201d she whispered, and fell\non her knees before him; and, when he had given it, she rose and tried\nto smile.\n\nThe priest was disturbed. \u201cDon\u2019t you feel well to-night, mother?\u201d he\nasked.\n\n\u201cYes, quite well,\u201d she replied gently. \u201cPerhaps I am foolish to be so\nnervous about your going. It seems a lonely drive. Go now, or you will\nbe late.\u201d\n\nShe followed him to the door, and stood there till she saw him come out\nof the church, step into his buggy, and drive away.\n\n\u201cGood-night! good-night!\u201d she said, listening till the last sound of\nhis carriage-wheels died into stillness; then, breathing a prayer for\nhis safety, she went back to her own room.\n\nJane had cleared away the table, drawn the curtains, and lighted a\nlamp, and had gone down to her company in the kitchen.\n\n\u201cWhat does make me so lonely and fearful?\u201d exclaimed the lady, wringing\nher cold hands.\n\nShe busied herself in little things, trying to drive the trouble away;\nrefolded the paper her son had not found time to read, pushed his\narm-chair nearer the table for herself, and, discovering a flake of\nsmooth-pressed clay which his boot had left on the carpet, took it up,\nand threw it into the fireplace. That homely little service brought a\nfaint smile to her face.\n\n\u201cThe careless boy!\u201d she said fondly. \u201cHe never could remember to wipe\nhis boots on coming in, even when he was a mere lad. I can see his\nbright face now as it looked when he would argue me out of scolding\nhim. His mind was occupied with lofty matters, he said; he could not\nbring it down to boots and mud. It sounded like a jest; but who knows\nif he might not even then have been about his Father\u2019s business!\u201d\n\nDropping into his chair, she sat thinking over the old time and her\nboy\u2019s childhood. How happy and peaceful their life had been! Half\nchiding herself, as if she knew he would have called it folly, she\nwent into her bedroom, and brought our a little trunk, in which were\npreserved _souvenirs_ memorable in her life and his.\n\nThere was his christening-robe. She shook out the length, and pushed\ntwo of her fingers through the tiny embroidered sleeve.\n\n\u201cHow little we dream what the future is to be!\u201d she murmured. \u201cI wonder\nhow I would have felt if, when I was embroidering this, there had\nrisen before my eyes the vision of a chasuble hanging above it? But I\ncouldn\u2019t have been prouder of him than I was. He was a fine healthy\nboy, and had a will of his own even then. When he was baptized, he got\nthe priest\u2019s stole in his baby fist, and I had to pull it away finger\nby finger, the little fellow clinging all the time.\u201d\n\nThere were boyish toys, schoolbooks adorned with preposterous\npencil-drawings, in which the human figure was represented by three\nspheres set one over the other, and supported on two sticks; there were\nletters written his mother while he was away from home, at school or\ncollege, and a collection of locks of hair cut on successive birthdays,\ntill the boy had laughed her out of the custom. She placed these side\nby side now, ranging them according to their dates, and studied the\ngradual change from the silken-silvery crescent of a curl cut from the\nhead of the year-old babe, through deepening shades, to the thick brown\ntress cut on his twentieth birthday. Every little lock had its story to\ntell, and she went over each, ending with a kiss, in fancy kissing the\nchild\u2019s face she seemed again to see. And as she sat there conning the\npast, memory struck every chord of her heart, from the sweet, far-away\nvibration when her first-born was placed in her arms, and coming down\nthrough deepening tones to the present.\n\nShe lifted her face, that had been bent over these mementos. \u201cNow he\nis Father Chevreuse, and I am an old woman!\u201d she said; and, sighing,\nrose and put the souvenirs all away. \u201cWe have had a glad and prosperous\nlife; how little of sorrow, how little of adversity! I never before\nrealized how much I have to be thankful for.\u201d\n\nPresently she put a veil over her head, and went out through the\nbasement into the church to say her prayers. She always said her\nevening prayers before the altar; and now she had double cause to be\nscrupulous. She must atone for past unthankfulness, and pray for her\nson\u2019s safe return.\n\nBy ten o\u2019clock, the house was closed for the night, and the inmates\nhad all gone to their quiet slumber. Mother Chevreuse\u2019s uneasiness was\nall gone, and, after devotions of unusual fervor, she felt an unwonted\npeace. \u201cFather, into thy hands I commit my spirit!\u201d she said, and sank\nto sleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.\n\nAbout midnight, she started up, wide-awake, and listened. There was a\nlow, stealthy sound, as of a door being softly opened. Could her son\nhave changed his mind, and come home again? Some one was certainly in\nhis room. She stepped out of bed, and listened keenly. There was a\nfaint noise like the rattle of a latch or lock, and then a soft step\nretreating.\n\n\u201cIt is he come back!\u201d she thought joyfully; and, even in thinking so,\nwas smitten by a wild and sudden fear. She slipped on a dressing-gown\nand sandals, and hurried toward the door. \u201cMy son!\u201d she said\nbreathlessly as she opened it.\n\nFaintly seen in the dim light, a man\u2019s form was leaving the room by the\nentry. A shawl or cloak wrapped him from head to foot, and he held a\nlittle chest in his hand. In that chest F. Chevreuse kept his money.\n\nAll personal fear deserted his mother\u2019s heart at that sight. She\nthought only that the fruit of her son\u2019s long labors was being carried\naway under her eyes, and that, after the brief joy of his success, he\nwould come home to bitterness and disappointment.\n\nShe ran after the retreating figure, and caught it by the arm. \u201cShame!\nshame!\u201d she cried. \u201cIt is the money of the poor. It belongs to God.\nLeave it, in God\u2019s name.\u201d\n\nThe man bent down, and wrapped his form still more closely from\nrecognition, as he wrenched himself loose. But while forced to let go\nhis arm, she caught at the casket he held, and clung with all her\nstrength, calling for help.\n\n\u201cLet go!\u201d he said, in a hoarse whisper. \u201cLet go, or I shall do you\nharm!\u201d\n\nAs she still clung and cried for help, they stood at the head of the\nstairs leading to the basement of the house. Steps were heard below,\nand Jane\u2019s voice calling Andrew, and screaming from the window.\n\nThe man made one more fierce effort to free himself. Drawing back from\nthe stairs, he turned quickly, and threw himself forward again. There\nwas a sharp cry, \u201cMy son!\u201d and a fall. Then a fainter cry, \u201cMy God!\u201d\nand then silence.\n\n\n\n\nTRAVELLERS AND TRAVELLING.\n\n\nWHAT does one gain by travelling? says some old wiseacre, with a shake\nof the head. Better the man that settles down and grows with his native\nor adopted dwelling-place. \u201cThe rolling stone gathers no moss,\u201d is a\nvenerable saying. Men who stay only a short time in one place can never\nbe sufficiently known or loved by any people, and hence their credit\nand fortune cannot increase.\n\nWhat does one not gain by travelling? says the boy who is just old\nenough to relish _Robinson Crusoe_, whose natural curiosity is feverish\nfor knowledge. For him, all countries are more interesting than his\nown. He longs to climb the hill that bounds his native plain, to see\nwhat lies beyond. No one for him so interesting as the soldier or\nsailor come back from foreign lands, and he asks, with deep, attentive\ninquiry, \u201cif there are boys in such places, too, and whether they\nare born there, or if they also went away from here?\u201d Power, wealth,\nbeauty, have no charm for him. Money he values merely because it opens\nhis path to distant lands; and his instinctive desire to know is the\npassion of his youth. This is the story of all of us, at least all of\nus boys. It is only when our curiosity is satisfied either by personal\nexperience or by credible hearsay, when we meet members of the whole\nhuman family, and find them seeking in our country that peace and\nbeauty which we used to ascribe to theirs\u2014it is then we realize that\nlife is not poetry; that one\u2019s native land is generally happiest for\nhim; and that the best thing for one to do is to choose a spot thereof,\nand, as \u201cH. G.\u201d used to say, \u201cto settle down and rise with it.\u201d\n\nBetween the sturdy proverb of the oldest inhabitant and the boundless\ndream of the boy exists the medium wherein we shall find the uses of\ntravel. There is nothing which may not be abused, and travelling may\ndegenerate into a passion in individuals; but the strength of the ties\nof country, home, and family, whereby nature has bound us, forbids any\nbut solitary instances of men who have wandered, useless vagabonds on\nthe earth, trespassing on all countries, and aiding none; while, if the\nHoly Ghost call forth some apostle from his kindred to sound the trump\nof faith among many peoples, the Lord, who gives him an extraordinary\nmission, will endow him with special grace, and the world will gain\nby his vocation. This is the greatest traveller: who goes forth, not\nto his own gain, nor to further his nation\u2019s weal, but to extend the\nkingdom of God on earth; to enlighten those who sit in darkness, and\nbring them to the knowledge of the truth.\n\nWhy do people travel? People travel for health, for pleasure, for\nbusiness, and for knowledge. Some fifty thousand Americans travelled\nin Europe last summer with one or other of these objects in view.\nHave they all gained by their trip? Has the nation profited? Are they\nhealthier, happier, richer, wiser, for their tour in Europe? A general\nanswer to these questions cannot be given. All depends on the character\nof the individuals who composed that large army. Their particular\ncircumstances and characteristics may have caused some to gain, others\nto lose, both when there is question of health, as well as when we\nspeak of enjoyment, riches, and useful knowledge. I was one of that\ninvading army that descended on Europe last year, and will try to make\nothers partakers of whatever is communicable of the advantages derived\nfrom the trip which under advice I took to the other hemisphere. We\nwill see who are they that lose by going abroad, what danger and\ndamage they incur, and the reasons why. We will also find what persons\nprofit by the excursion, what dispositions are required for this; and,\nby contrasting and comparing each, we shall be enabled to conclude\nhow much of loss and how much of gain there is in travel, how the\none is avoided, and the other achieved. All this I will make bold to\nillustrate from my own experience.\n\nA change of air is well known to influence one\u2019s health very much; for\na man lives as much on good air as on what are commonly considered the\nelements of sustenance. I heard a gentleman state that the change from\nNewburg to New York in summer had caused him to gain eleven pounds\nin a fortnight. It was all in the change. A citizen flying from this\npent-up atmosphere to the expanded vision and pure breezes of that\ndelightful town could hardly have gained more in the same period. Hence\nthe doctors prescribe change of air so frequently. An English physician\nsays: \u201cIt is undoubted, explain it how we may, that a change of air,\ndiet, and scene rouses the faculties, improves the appetite, and\nraises the spirits. When you set out for France, then, on your little\ntrip of twenty-five miles across the channel, pray Heaven you may\nget thoroughly sea-sick, that nothing old or vitiated may make a bad\nfoundation for the new man you are going to build up.\u201d People from the\nplain gain by a change to the mountains; people from the mountain by\nvisiting the plains. People from inland by going to the sea-shore, and\nthose from the beach by retiring to the meadows. As with the body, so\nwith the mind. Our faculties become as it were choked up and stagnant\nby continual monotony; even the most brilliant conversation, music, the\nbest jokes of a friend, fail at last to please or rouse the spirit.\nActivity and exercise are necessary for the mind and soul as well as\nfor the body, and are obtained by seeking contact and conflict with new\nideas, sights, and wonders to move the imagination; and the consequent\nenlivening of the spirits acts at once on the body, and does more\nto restore physical power than any material food. It is by visiting\nforeign places; seeing strange customs which excite our curiosity;\nwondering at Alpine heights and Rhenish castles; sympathizing with the\ndecayed glories of Venice and old Rome; confronting ourselves with the\nsoul-entrancing beauty of the Bay of Naples and the awe of that burning\nmountain which stirs the depths of the spirit\u2014it is thus we produce\nthat friction, that reaction requisite for rousing soul and body from\ntepidity and the stagnancy of hypochondria and disease. Our spirits\nrise, the circulation is quickened by the winds of France and the music\nof Italy, the strange _cuisine_ of other lands start all our organs\ninto activity, and happiness and health are the result.\n\nThere are those, however, who travel, and yet gain neither in spirits\nnor in health. What often makes the difference, other things being\nequal, is the bigotry and contrariety of certain individuals. Some\npersons are so ignorant, and therefore so bigoted, that they will never\ntolerate customs different from their own, hold all who think otherwise\nthan they in profound contempt, and will persist in following their\nown ways no matter where they go, and although the habits and opinions\nof an entire nation are opposed to them. Such persons never gain good\nspirits; for they will not open the windows of their miserable little\nsouls, to let in the rays of happiness in which the people about are\nbasking. An Englishman of fifty years ago, for instance, sets out with\nthe notion that whatever is not English is contemptible. Hence, he is\ndisgusted with the pleasant sounds of the French tongue; the agreeable\npoliteness of the lady in the restaurant irritates him\u2014perhaps he\nfeels angry that a Frenchwoman should be so much at ease in his\npresence; the play he despises, because his taste is too debased to\nrise to its enjoyment, or because Parisians applaud it. He will have\nhis beefsteak in the morning and his heavy slices of bread, no matter\nthough the whole French nation should think a light breakfast more\nhealthful. Hence, it is impossible that this man\u2019s health should\nimprove. Instead of getting mentally sea-sick (he can\u2019t help getting\nbodily so; and the prouder he is, the more amusing his appearance\nthen), and throwing off prejudice, he keeps in his mind a bile that\njaundices his views, and corrodes every healthy idea that may possibly\nenter his soul. He follows his own notions at the table; and, as the\nfood and habits of his northern isle do not suit southern latitudes, of\ncourse he gains nothing in health, and often becomes sick, and returns\nhome disgusted with dons and messieurs, signors and mynheers, and tells\nyou \u201cthere\u2019s no use in travel\u2014he tried it.\u201d The first requisite, then,\nis, when you go to Rome, to do as the Romans do. The customs of a place\nshow what its inhabitants prefer; and it is silly in any man to set his\nown little ideas against the experience of a whole people.\n\nMy friend and I had the misfortune to meet one of this class on setting\nout on our trip, and thrown together as we necessarily were on an ocean\nsteamship, it caused us a great deal of inconvenience. The poor man was\nactually yellow from dyspepsia and bigotry. I am sorry to say he passed\nfor an American. Whether his bigotry caused that viselike fastening up\nof his better nature, and, reacting on his body, ruined his digestion,\nas might easily be, or whether the desperate state of his chylopoetic\nfluids produced a corresponding straitness in his soul, which we\nassumed as the more charitable supposition, I can\u2019t say; but certainly\nall the benefit of new and entertaining society, all the advantages of\nsea air, change of diet, etc., were lost, necessarily lost to him. What\nwas the cause of his old-fogyism? One dreadful incubus\u2014you might call\nit a standing evil, a nightmare (diurnal as well as nocturnal)\u2014was\nthe presence at the same table, and in the willing association of\nthose whom he also preferred, and whose company he courted, of us two\npriests. The man could not look us in the face, could not accept the\nsalt at our hands, would not \u201cdo us the pleasure of wine,\u201d as they\nsay on English ships; in fact, his bigotry stood between him and his\nown enjoyment and good appetite, rendered our position disagreeable,\ncaused the rest of the company (Protestants themselves) to condemn\nhis behavior in the strongest terms on deck, and ruined the pleasure\nof our voyage, at least during the time spent at table. One of his\nacquaintances was a whole-souled, honest, generous gentleman, a\nMethodist from Brooklyn. He, on his part, took every opportunity to\nthrow sunshine about him, and to be polite to us especially, as if to\nmake up for the fellow\u2019s savageness; and one day, when the dyspeptic\nwas complaining to the waiter as bitterly as if he were being flayed\nalive, the other turned to him, and said aloud: \u201cEbenezer, if I was an\nundertaker getting up a funeral, I\u2019d hire you for chief mourner.\u201d John\ninvited us to his cabin, and the other turned away from its door when\nhe saw us within. John proposed to take his cheerful, amiable wife to\nIreland first; Ebenezer declared his abhorrence of the Irish and his\ncontempt for Killarney. \u201cHe wouldn\u2019t advise anybody to go to Ireland;\nhe\u2019d been there three times, and there was nothing to see but beggars.\u201d\nJohn took him up before the company: \u201cWhy did you go there the second\nand third time, Eben?\u201d\u2014a question which disconcerted the dyspeptic,\nand caused intense amusement to the passengers. Such an one had no use\nto go travelling for health or anything else. You must open the windows\nof your soul, slacken the risible muscles of your face, and reduce\nyourself to a soft, pliable, impressionable condition, if you want to\nbenefit by change of air, scenery, and society. Dry, hard wax does not\nreceive the impression of the seal. But let a man set out with proper\ndispositions, leave care and prejudice behind, be ready to speak of\nmen and things as he will find them, let no thought of business come\nup for a while, but move along easily and quietly through the scenes\nand people of other lands, and he will experience the advantages of\ntravelling for health.\n\nAnother motive for travel is business. The post and the telegraph\nafford wonderful facilities for carrying on commercial relations\nbetween different firms and branches of the same house in different\ncountries; but many circumstances render personal visits and interviews\noften necessary. Hence, the number of travellers on business is very\nlarge. Many New York houses send trusty men to Europe annually or\noftener to buy the stuffs and to inspect and select the styles which\nfickle fashion imposes on her votaries.\n\nThe American is not satisfied with looking through foreign eyes, for\nhe knows that short or long-sightedness is often the defect of even\nbusiness men in those old countries. Hence, he goes to see and inspect\nfor himself, and commonly finds an opening where the Frenchman, the\nGerman, even the Englishman, did not suspect its existence; throws a\nbridge over a chasm which to them seemed impassable; works his way\nthrough difficulties they thought unsurmountable; and pushing on over\nprecipices and untrodden ways, \u201cthat banner with the strange device,\nExcelsior,\u201d in his hands, astonishes the natives, and secures the trade\nof the world. Thus Singer, the sewing-machine man, goes to the ancient\nmedi\u00e6val city of N\u00fcrnberg, amongst other places\u2014a city seemingly so\ndead as to have recently erected another monument to Albrecht D\u00fcrer,\nthe artist, the only statue in the town; as if the last man of push and\nnote they produced was dead 350 years. Singer goes to this sleepy old\ncity, and, in spite of the depth and inflexibility of the old channels\nin which trade had been running for a thousand years, attempts to\nrevolutionize it all at once with his sewing-machine. In spite of the\nopposition of the tailors, which similar endeavors in parts of Great\nBritain failed to overcome, he succeeds; for, instead of hiring a plain\noffice, in the simple manner of the country, and cautiously investing\na little capital at the outset, the American, with characteristic\nenterprise and self-approved wisdom, spends hundreds in advertising\nand thousands in erecting a building the most imposing and expensive\nof its kind in the venerable city, astonishes the slow Bavarians while\nattracting them by the employment he gives, makes them believe that\nhe is indeed the bringer of the great good he claims, obtains their\ntrade, and, while filling his own pockets, is a herald of his country\u2019s\ngenius and enterprise. Another instance: while sailing down the Rhine\nlast October in one of those steamers which approach nearest to the\ngraceful beauties of our own rivers, and which are therefore most\nhighly praised by tourists, we were a little surprised and considerably\nproud at seeing \u201cLent\u2019s Floating American Circus\u201d (like a vast floating\nbath) paying a visit to one of the cities of that noble stream, up\nand down whose banks it for ever roves, catering for the amusement\nand instruction and picking up the loose thalers of Fatherland with\nas much _sang-froid_ as Dan Rice on our Mississippi. When the people\nof the Continent behold the Americans coming three thousand miles\nover the sea, passing inside England, from whom we learnt these very\ninstitutions, whose child our nation was, they naturally form a very\nhigh opinion of the superior enterprise and skill of the republic, so\nthat our democratic institutions gain respect and our flag honor, while\nEnglish influence gradually decays. Thus George Pullman goes over and\nsteps in before John Bull, and secures the sleeping-car business on the\nContinent. Nay, it is only now that, roused by his aggressive boldness,\nEngland begins to adopt our great improvements in travel, afraid\nof being left still more shamefully behind. Thus does the business\ntraveller, while making his own fortune, advance his country\u2019s name\nand influence; and his successful policy is always that of generosity,\naccommodation, and politeness.\n\nA class of men called commercial travellers is very numerous in England\nand Ireland. They are a relic of the period preceding this great\nadvertising age, and go about from town to town soliciting orders and\nselling goods of which they carry samples. Many of them are peddlers\nalso, and sometimes carry great value in money, jewelry, etc., and\noffer story-tellers an attractive field for wild tales of robbery on\nlonely roads, and murder in wayside inns. They all have some story\nof this kind to relate. In Ireland, a room in every hotel is set\napart, called the commercial room, for the exclusive use of these men,\nwhose business transactions and responsibility require special care\nand convenience, and where they can deposit their valuables without\ndanger of loss or damage. I was in a car once with one of these lonely\ngentlemen, and he told me he travelled from the 1st of January to the\n23d December.\n\nThe company of a wife is not considered conducive either to economy or\nto profit; but their life must be a dreary one, especially in Ireland,\nwhere the accommodation on the railroads and in some of the country\nhotels is not only very poor, but even dangerous to health. In England\neven, they have just begun to heat their cars, which are far below\nthose on the Continent; and in Ireland, at least in winter, I have had\nto sleep in a room with a quarter inch of mildew dank and dark upon\nthe walls. Persons travelling for pleasure, however, are not generally\nsubjected to this last inconvenience, as the localities frequented by\ntourists are furnished with whatever is needful for their comfort.\n\nPleasure is, doubtless, the object of most travellers; but it includes\nmuch more than the word in its usual acceptance might imply. The\nwealthy English travel in the mild, genial climates of southern Europe\nduring the prevalence at home of that indescribably abominable weather\nwhich sits on London like a plague during the autumn and winter. Some\nof them also go abroad because they cannot afford to reside at home.\nThey revel in the atmosphere of Rome and Naples\u2014so mild that oranges\nbloom and flowers deck the walls all through the wintry season. The sun\nis bright, while the weather is not so mild as to interfere with balls,\nparties, concerts, etc.; and hunting the fox, the wild boar, and the\ndeer, with the intoxicating pleasures of the carnival, and visits to\nthe interesting monuments of pagan and Christian times, make up a round\nof diversion and entertainment peculiar to Italy.\n\nThe American tourist partakes of the same enjoyments, only that his\npleasure is sometimes interrupted and marred by the workings of his\npractical and ever-active brain. I heard of one of our countrymen\npaying a moonlight visit to that noblest of ruins, the Coliseum, in\ncompany with a party composed of various nationalities. While they\ngazed in silent, entranced contemplation at its dark majesty, with the\nrays of the pale planet making its black recesses visible by contrast;\nwhile they pictured to themselves 100,000 fair women and brave men\nseated in its circuit, witnessing the bloody tragedy of the dying\ngladiator or the triumphant martyr of Christ, the Yankee was asked\nhis impressions, and replied, on reflection, that \u201cit was rayther\nlarge, but money might be in the concern if \u2018twas only roofed in and\nwhitewashed!\u201d\n\nI need not go to great length to show the pleasure which travelling\naffords; the delight which all take in seeing new and strange places,\ncustoms, works of art, ruins of antiquity, cataracts, mountains,\nrivers, etc.\u2014all of which have a wonderful charm in lightening one\u2019s\nheart, wearied by care; in purifying and strengthening the brain,\ndimmed and dizzied by labor, and filling us with pure and exquisite\ndelight. Besides, many find in travel a refuge from the routine of\nfashion, and the prospect of that lingering pain which follows her\nsevere, artificial, often painful enjoyments. In other countries you\ndo as you please. You are not criticised if you be not absolutely _en\nrapport_ with the usages of the tyrant fashion at home, because she has\nstayed there; nor with the ways of her sister abroad, because no one\nextages pects you to be _au fait_ in customs not your own. Moreover,\nyou can live more cheaply, and your health is benefited by the change.\nHence, families broken down often leave England and go abroad for\neconomy\u2019s sake, thus obtaining freedom by their apparent misfortune.\n\nThe student of history and the classics is the one who finds most\npleasure in visiting foreign lands. Every town, every river, plain,\nmountain range, and country, has an indescribable attraction for him,\nand he gazes still charmed upon scenes which may very soon sate the\ncuriosity of others. His pleasure is one which, if you are a reader,\nyou will appreciate; and, if not, it would be impossible for me to make\nyou understand. See one of these visiting Lake George. His imagination\ncovers the water with the three hundred boats in which Montcalm\nadvanced to the siege of Fort William Henry. He sees Leatherstocking\nand Uncas plodding through the forest on their war-path, dropping\nsilently down the stream by night, and putting up their heads from\nunder the water for a stolen breath of air, while the bushes on the\nbank are filled with savages watching for their scalps; stopping to eat\nand drink in the middle of the forest at what we now call the Congress\nSpring at Saratoga. Let him gaze for the first time on the coast of\nIreland\u2014what an interest has that venerable and lovely land for him!\nHe at once looks out for the ruined castles of her decayed nobility;\nhe seeks thirstingly a sight of those round towers which stand old but\nfresh monuments of that time \u201cwhen Malachy wore the collar of gold\nwhich he won from the proud invader\u201d; and he remains alone, apart on\nthe deck, recalling in sad satisfaction the scene that presented itself\nlong ago, when abbeys, churches, and schools crowned the fair hill-tops\nof Erin. Let him stroll companionless through London\u2019s busy streets\u2014he\nis not alone. David Copperfield, Pickwick, Micawber, Sim Tappertit,\nAgnes, Little Dorrit, Bill Sykes, and Fagin are always passing and\nrepassing; acting their parts for his entertainment. Let him view the\ntall, white cliffs of Dover, and he sees C\u00e6sar\u2019s fleet approaching to\nthe conquest of Albion. Calais recalls the days of Catholic England\u2019s\ngreatest military glory. Every spot of France, Germany, Italy lives\nagain for him in one short space its life of two or three thousand\nyears; for all the events of its history, all the heroes of its glory,\nare present to his memory and imagination even more than their present\nphases to his vision to-day. He sees the tradesmen of Flanders, the\nbutchers, bakers, weavers, smiths, combining for the liberation of\ntheir country at the battle of the Golden Spurs, so called from the\nimmense number of these articles found on the field, representing the\nnumber of professional soldiers of knightly rank slain by these bold\ndemocrats, whose liberties they came to invade. He feasts his eyes\nupon the \u201cvine-clad hills of Bingen, fair Bingen on the Rhine,\u201d which\nhis boyish imagination had pictured and laid back in the most loving\nrecesses of his heart. In Switzerland, the mountain-passes are crowned\nfor him by the native heroes, sons of Tell, and of those others who, in\nthe days of Catholic Switzerland, rose against the Austrian despot, and\nin a band of 1,300 patriots defeated 60,000 hirelings of tyranny at the\nbattle of Morgarten. At Innsbruck, he venerates the soil consecrated\nby the deeds of the citizen-soldier and martyr of liberty, Andreas\nH\u00f6fer; at Venice, he recalls the glories of the republican queen of\nthe seas; while his interest and pleasure reaching their height in\nthe city of the popes, he pursues a boundless career of enjoyment as\nhe gazes on the monuments, walks over the localities, peoples again\nthe streets and forums, making all the heroes, poets, and great women\nof royal, republican, imperial, and Papal Rome live their lives and do\ntheir great deeds over again, and all for him, all for him. No amount\nof reading or meditation at home can supply the pleasure derived from\nvisiting the famous places of history, while the previous reading\ncreates the desire and predisposes for the pleasure. Hence it is that\nall students like so much to travel, and to travel on foot.\n\nThose who travel expensively lose a great deal of the benefit and\ninterest of travel. The magnificent hotels are filled with English\nand Americans, principally those who affect that rank and demand that\nobsequiousness abroad to which they could not aspire at home. Many\nof them are very ignorant, and the waiters, for their sake, speak a\nmongrel kind of English, which is simply unbearable when it is not\nabsolutely needed. The latter affect English ways; and, though you\nmay desire to practise your college French, German, or Italian, they\ninsultingly reply in your own tongue, as if to spare you any further\nexhibition of your ignorance, and because their avarice makes them\nmore anxious to learn English than that you should acquire a foreign\ntongue. I asked one of these servants once how much I was to pay the\nhackman. My question was in German, his answer in English; but I was on\nthe point of paying thirty-six cents for the lesson I gave him in our\nlanguage, as he told me to give the man eighty-four kreutzers instead\nof forty-eight, because he didn\u2019t know how to translate _acht und\npfierzig_. The tourist who, through his ignorance of the language or\nhis desire of display, frequents these English hotels, learns nothing\nof the languages, nothing of the customs of the people, scarcely\nanything of the _cuisine_, but becomes a target for the attacks of\ninterpreters, guides, lying _ciceroni_, and a host of hangers-on, who\nimpose on him in proportion to his ignorance, and palm off falsehoods\non him suited to his bigoted preconceptions on every subject. In the\ndrawing-room and at the table, he may as well be at home in London or\nNew York, as far as language, habits, etc., are concerned, and he often\nleaves a country with less real knowledge of it than he had before he\ncame.\n\nThe artist, the student, the gentleman bachelor, who stroll about\nfor their own pleasure, and pay no unnecessary homage to fashion or\nhumbug\u2014these are the ones who derive genuine pleasure from the novelty\nand constant surprises of new customs, languages, and people. I have\nseen such persons, some of them men of independent fortune, travelling\nin omnibus or on foot about Germany, Switzerland, and Italy. They send\ntheir trunks on to some known hotel in a place fifty miles off, and\nthen, carrying simply a knapsack with necessaries for a few days, take\na stick and perhaps a pencil and paper, and leisurely walk along the\nfine roads of those countries, meeting a village every few miles, where\nthey can take some refreshment, or stay over night. This is seeing\na country, and knowing its language, customs, people, by personal\nobservation, and not through the uncertain medium of hotel guides. And\nwho would compare the restrained formality of fashionable moving about\nto the glorious freedom of this? The students of the English College\nat Rome used to travel thus two or three together during vacation, and\nspend the time delightfully.\n\nWhen visiting the ancient, interesting city of N\u00fcrnberg last\nAugust\u2014its old castle where the peace of Westphalia was signed, and\nwhere many of the Western emperors resided; its curious walls and\nfortifications; its old medi\u00e6val houses, with six stories, under an\noblique roof; its curious fountains; and the residence of Albrecht\nD\u00fcrer\u2014I entered a magnificent temple of old Catholic times, that of\nS. Lawrence, now devoted to Lutheran worship. All the crucifixes,\npictures, and statuary with the altars still remain; for Luther was\na much more intelligent man than many who imitated his rebellion. I\nwas admiring the tabernacle of marble tracery, which reaches from the\npavement seventy feet up to the roof along one of the pillars, and is\nthe most exquisite piece of poetry in miniature stone I ever saw, when\nmy attention was drawn to two students, boys of sixteen or seventeen,\nwho were likewise visiting the church. They were very plainly dressed;\nfor the old Catholic universities are free in Europe, and good conduct\nonly is required as a condition of membership. On their backs, they\nhad knapsacks with straps coming over the shoulders, and containing\ndoubtless a change of clothing, while the long German pipe was seen\nstuck into the bundle. They carried sticks in their hands, and one\nhad a guide-book, and was reading therefrom, and pointing out to his\ncompanion the objects of interest existing in the church. I watched the\nboys with great interest, and felt how happy they were in their simple\nmanners and pure friendship\u2014happy in the possession of knowledge more\nthan if they had the Rothschilds\u2019 wealth or Bismarck\u2019s power; they were\nin love with and betrothed to wisdom, and independent of the world.\nWalking about afterwards round the great moat and curious turreted\nwalls of this famous town, I came across my two friends, seated on a\nbench in the shaded, turf-set promenade which girds part of the city,\ntaking their frugal meal of the inevitable sausage and brown bread of\nthe country. Thus they strolled about from town to town, living plainly\nand simply as their means\u2014the gift, perhaps, of some patron\u2014required,\nbut happy in the banquet which their own erudition and friendship\nprovided. I have seen many travellers, and they have remained longer or\nshorter in my memory; but the picture of the two students of N\u00fcrnberg\nwill remain with me always.\n\nAmong those who travel we may include that class so numerous in\nour own day in proportion to the increase of the enemies of the\nsupernatural\u2014those who, to satisfy their devotion, visit holy places.\nThe sight of persons or localities associated with supernatural events\nor with the lives of those whose heroic sanctity we venerate, impresses\nus beings of half spiritual, half corporeal formation in a wonderful\ndegree. I need not dilate on this. It is the reason why, in all ages,\nsuch multitudes have traversed land and sea, spent years even of their\nlives in visiting the Holy Land, Rome, Loretto, Compostella. That they\nobtained pleasure and sensible satisfaction you may easily imagine; and\nthat they aided the faith by supplying constant information relative\nto the locality of sacred events, and thus kept up the strength\nof tradition, cannot be denied; but I would console those whose\nresponsible care of family or office, whose want of means or leisure,\nprevent their assuming the pilgrim\u2019s scrip and staff, with the words of\nThomas \u00e0 Kempis: _Qui multum peregrinantur, raro sanctificantur_.\n\nThere is so much to distract one in the strangeness and novelty of\nforeign places, so much disturbance of order in one\u2019s manner of life,\nthat, as a rule, one is likely to come home less single-minded and\nless edifying than when he set out. However, I must bear witness to an\nexception, though it is not calculated to be an example for any one\nhere. It is that of a Frenchman, a youth of twenty, dressed in the\nnational blouse (as a duster in the cars over a decent suit of black),\nwhom I met on the way to the famous shrine of Lourdes. His faith was\nso simple, his modesty so perfect, his tongue so _straight_ (to use an\nIndian idiom), that I felt that the true Christian is gentlemanly no\nmatter to what class of society he may belong. I was confounded and\nashamed when I compared my faith and hope with his, and knew that for\nthe first time I addressed a man who had never breathed the atmosphere\nof heresy and unbelief, who had never felt a doubt or recognized a\ndifficulty regarding the truths of religion or the pious beliefs of\nCatholics. Reflecting on the difference between what is termed \u201cthe\nworld\u201d in all the conceitedness of its ignorance, and the class whom\nhe represented, I could not wonder that God should show his preference\nfor the simple, truthful people even by the most stupendous miracles.\nHowever, he was still in France. Were he on an American railroad-car,\nhe might have allowed some of the mire of the world to adhere to his\ngarments.\n\nI will not rest long on the subject of the Lourdes pilgrimage, as the\nentire press has been forced to notice it, and has given full reports\nof the appearance of the shrine, the gatherings of pilgrims, and the\nwondrous works. Although the people of the village are said to be\ngradually losing their simple, amiable qualities, on account of the\nenlivened trade and the continual distraction consequent on the arrival\nand departure of perhaps a thousand strangers daily in a village of\n2,000 inhabitants, yet we could not help remarking the piety of the\nmatrons, the modesty of the maidens, and the straightforwardness of\nthe men\u2014characteristics more refreshing to us than the breezes coming\ndown from the passes of the Pyrenees. It is delightful to get out of\nan artificial state of society, and to see men and women as God made\nthem. I will have occasion to refer to this subsequently when I speak\nof the Irish people. The peasantry of Lourdes, whom God chose for this\nmanifestation, are poor but not slovenly, simple but not uncouth,\ncomparatively illiterate but not ignorant. Education is not at all\nincompatible with ignorance of reading and writing; while barbarism is\nnot seldom found united with these accidental accomplishments.\n\nOne evening, having prayed at the famous grotto, which was most\nexquisitely decorated with candles supplied by the pilgrims, we\nstrolled toward a farm-house, and, seeing some peasants just finishing\ntheir day\u2019s labor, stopped and addressed them. Lord Chesterfield would\nhave been charmed to see the ease and grace with which the farmer rose\nfrom his task, and inquired our pleasure. His conversation was pure,\nstraight, and full of faith. He spoke of things miraculous just as he\ndid of other events, evidently not thinking how people can question\nGod\u2019s power, or wonder at his goodness. He had been one of that\n20,000 who at times witnessed the ecstasies of Bernadette; and, after\ndescribing what he saw, he concluded: \u201cAh! sirs, who ever visits that\ngrotto treads blessed earth.\u201d My friend complimented him on the purity\nof his language, and the politeness he had shown us, and which, indeed,\nwe strangers scarce expected from one in his dress and employment.\n\u201cWhy,\u201d said he, \u201cgentlemen, if you take kindness and good grace out of\nthe world, after all, what is there worth living for?\u201d We were charmed.\nThere spoke a Frenchman\u2014one of those who made some one say: \u201cThey are\na nation of gentlemen.\u201d We visited his poor habitation, and were still\nmore pleased with his filial and conjugal affection, as evidenced by\nhis regard for his wife, and care of his bedridden mother.\n\n_A propos_ of this subject of travelling for pleasure, it was very\nbeautiful to watch from a height the pilgrims, 1,500 in number, winding\naround the road, crossing the bridge, and going down the hillside to\nthe grotto. First came the cross-bearer with the crucifix shining\nin the sun, then the women and children in the dark dresses which\ndistinguish the inhabitants of the region. Some of them bore lighted\ncandles; others carried baskets on their arms and heads; others had\njars containing wine for their lunch, or intended to be filled with\nthe miraculous water. They sang the Litany of Loretto, some priests\nalong the ranks directing, as they walked in double file. After these\ncame the men; then the altar boys in full dress, and thirty or forty\nin number; then the clerics, priests, and canons in their robes; and\nfinally the Bishop of Perpignan, in sacred vestments, who had thus come\nwith his people to visit the spot favored by the Immaculate Virgin.\nI never before saw the expression, \u201cThe bishop and his flock,\u201d more\nperfectly illustrated.\n\nWe were particularly struck by the behavior of these people in the\nchurch\u2014a beautiful marble structure built on the rock, under the side\nof which the waves of the passing river had formed the grotto. They had\nnone of the superstitious reverence of Mahometans nor the cold decency\nof Protestants; but acted with that quiet respect, alike remote from\nfear and levity, which characterizes well-reared children in their\nfather\u2019s house and presence. After performing their devotions with\nintense faith and childlike fervor, they sat down before the grotto,\non the sweet level bank of the river which skirts the rock, and, in a\nspirit of Christian recreation, began their frugal lunch.\n\nSo familiar are fervent Catholics with the wonderful works of God\nthat they who can talk and laugh when the communion thanksgiving is\nended found no difficulty in innocent relaxation after paying their\nrespects and perhaps witnessing miracles at the shrine consecrated by\nthe apparition of Mary. They reminded me of the _\u03b1\u03b3\u03b1\u03c0\u03b7_ of the first\nChristians, and of the feast we school-boys used to have long ago,\nafter closing our retreat with receiving the body of Jesus Christ; and\nI could not but acknowledge that these people were most likely to be\nfavored with supernatural manifestations by him who said: \u201cUnless you\nbecome as little children, you shall not enter into the kingdom of\nheaven.\u201d\n\n TO BE CONCLUDED IN OUR NEXT NUMBER.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CANADIAN PIONEERS.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF M. L\u2019ABBE CASGRAIN.\n\n\nI.\u2014DETROIT.\n\nARE you familiar with that fertile, laughing country, so rich in\nhistorical souvenirs, whose virgin soil was first trodden by our\nFrench ancestors? Are you familiar with these green and undulating\nprairies, watered by limpid streams, and shaded by maples, plane-trees,\nfigs, and acacias, in the midst of which rises, brilliant in youth\nand prospective greatness, the flourishing city of Detroit? If you\nwish to enjoy fully the enchanting picture that this charming country\npresents\u2014whose climate need not be envious of the Italian sun\u2014ascend\nthe Detroit River some fresh spring morning, when Aurora has shaken\nher dewy wings over these vast plains, and when the bright May sun has\nthrown its luminous rays through the transparent mists of morning.\nNowhere is there a clearer sky or more ravishing nature. Nowhere\nare the wavy lines of the blue horizon more distinctly traced. Here\nare wild and uncultivated sites, romantic landscapes, little wooded\nislands, like baskets of verdure, all re-echoing the mocking laughter\nof multitudes of birds. Pretty promontories whose round arms encircle\ngulfs full of shadows and sunlight; whose waves, caressed by these\nwarm breaths, deposit along the shore a fringe of silver foam. Hills\nand valleys, covered with luxuriant verdure, mirror themselves in the\nneighboring wave. On either side the shore stretches along, covered\nwith pebbles or fine gray sand; sometimes embroidered with a lace-like\nturf, or bristling with tall reeds, crowned with little tufts, among\nwhich the timid kingfishers perch, and take flight at the least noise.\nHere the fresh murmuring rivulets flow under the flowery arches of\ninterlacing boughs; there tiny paths, edged with strawberries and\nforget-me-nots, wind over the brow of the hill; and, more distant, the\nfresh spring zephyr trembles on the green meadows, and perfumes the air\nwith a delicious fragrance. The thousand confused noises of the water\nand the rustling foliage, the warbling of birds, the buzz of human\nvoices, the lowing of herds, and the distant and silvery echo of the\nbells of the steamers that ply along the river, ascend from time to\ntime through the air, and diffuse an indefinable charm in the soul and\nthrough the senses. At short distances apart, pretty little villages\nstretch along the shore, or group themselves on the banks of a stream,\nor again on the slope of a hill, or crowning its summit like a diadem.\nFinally you arrive at Detroit, with its steeples and roofs glittering\nin the sunlight. Hundreds of boats, engaged in commercial interests,\nare constantly arriving at or leaving its quays, furrowing the river\nin every direction. Were I a poet, I would compare this charming city\nto the superb swan of this country, which, on awakening in the midst\nof the rushes on the river\u2019s bank, shakes its white wings in taking\nflight, and showers around a rain of dew and down; or, better still, to\nthe stately magnolia growing on the banks of the stream, when, shaken\nby the aromatic breath of the morning breeze, it covers the wave in\nwhich it is mirrored with the fertile dust of its corolla.\n\n\nII.\u2014THE PIONEER.\n\nFounded in the year 1700, by M. de la Mothe-Cadillac, Detroit remained\nfor a long time under the Canadian government. It was taken by the\nEnglish in 1760, and remained in their possession until the war of\n1812. Then the United States became the happy possessor of this\ncharming country, which F. Charlevoix has so justly called \u201cthe garden\nspot.\u201d \u201cDetroit,\u201d says the Canadian historian, \u201chas preserved, in spite\nof its many vicissitudes, the characteristics of its origin, and French\nis still the language of a large portion of its population. Like all\nthe cities founded and settled by this great people\u2014the monuments of\nwhose genius are landmarks in America\u2014Detroit is destined to become a\ngreat business centre, on account of its favorable situation between\nLake Huron and Lake Erie.\u201d[183] Toward the year 1770 or 1780, Detroit\nwas far from presenting the flourishing aspect which it offers to the\nstranger to-day. It was only a small fort surrounded by weak ramparts,\nand a stockade in which lived a few hundred Canadian colonists\u2014a\nveritable tent in the wilderness. The fort was the advanced sentinel\nof the colony, and by consequence constantly exposed to the attacks\nof the Indians. Around the fortifications the colonists had cleared\na few acres of land, which they could only cultivate at the risk of\ntheir lives, holding a pickaxe in one hand, and a gun in the other;\nwhile beyond, before, behind, to the right, to the left, everywhere\na wilderness, everywhere interminable forests, whose gloomy shades\nconcealed multitudes of beings a thousand times more cruel, a thousand\ntimes more formidable and to be feared, than the wild beasts and\nreptiles which shared alike the tenebrious shelter. It is easy from\nthis to imagine what indomitable courage these hardy pioneers possessed\nwho dared to come and plant the standard of civilization in the\nmidst of these distant solitudes, in the face of such multitudinous\nperils. One of the grandest pictures that the history of the New World\npresents, after the sublime figure of the missionary, is that of the\nCanadian pioneer. He is the father of the strongest race that has been\nimplanted on the American continent\u2014the Canadian race; and the noblest\nblood that has ever flowed in human veins, flows through his\u2014the\nFrench blood. Everywhere on the continent the Canadian pioneer is to be\nfound, and everywhere can be traced by his blood. Travel through North\nAmerica, from Hudson\u2019s Bay to the Gulf of Mexico, from Halifax to San\nFrancisco, and on the snows of the North Pole and the golden sands of\nCalifornia, along the Atlantic strand, and on the moss-covered slopes\nof the Rocky Mountains, you will find the print of his footsteps. An\ninsatiable activity consumes him. Onward! is his watchword, and he only\nrests when he has reached the goal of his ambition. But it is not alone\nthe love of adventure nor the violent thirst for gold that stimulates\nhim to action: a nobler ambition urges him on, a more legitimate\ninstinct animates and guides him. He has a mission to accomplish\u2014a\nmysterious apostleship. Turn for a moment to the pages of our history,\nand especially to the accounts of the Jesuits, and you will see the\nCanadian pioneer throughout animated by the most admirable zeal for\nthe conversion of the savages, opening a way for the missionaries\nby the most heroic efforts, and frequently himself making the most\nwonderful conversions. We find united in him the three grandest types\nof manhood: priest, laborer, soldier. Priest!\u2014by his ardent piety,\nhis lively faith, his zeal for the salvation of vacillating souls and\nobdurate hearts, drawing to the faith entire settlements. Was there\never a more admirable priesthood? Laborer!\u2014before his powerful axe\nthe great forests fall with a crash around him, and his plough tracks,\nthrough the fallen trunks, the furrow where the green germ of the\nfuture harvest will soon begin to tremble. Soldier!\u2014by years of mortal\ncombat, he has conquered the soil that his hand cultivates. Ah! were\nI only an artist, to trace on canvas this noble figure in his triple\ncharacter of priest, laborer, and soldier. In the background of the\npicture, immense forests, in all their savage grandeur; nearer, the\nwaving grain, growing between the charred trunks. In the foreground,\na portion of the great river, with its emerald waves sparkling in the\nsun. On one side, an angle of the old fort, with its ramparts and\nstockade, whence rises a modest little belfry surmounted by a cross.\nOn the other side, a band of Indians flying toward the edge of the\nwood. The centre-piece would be my brave pioneer, his eyes flashing,\nhis hair blown by the breeze, and his forehead bleeding from a ball\nwhich had just grazed it, near him his plough, and holding his gun,\nwhose muzzle still smokes from a recent conflict. At the right, he\nwould be pouring the water of baptism on the head of his vanquished and\ndying enemy, whom he had just converted to the faith. Oh! how could I\nattempt to paint this vigorous figure in the various attitudes of a\nsoldier-laborer, with his iron muscles, and the calm, serene strength\nof the man of the fields; the invincible courage of the soldier, and\nthe sublime enthusiasm of the priest! Verily, this picture would not be\nunworthy of the pencil of a Rubens or a Michael Angelo. Faith, toil,\ncourage; priest, laborer, soldier\u2014this is the Canadian pioneer. It is\nCincinnatus, the soldier-laborer, become a Christian. It is the Spartan\nwarrior, who has passed through the Catacombs. The Canadian reader\nwho peruses these lines can raise his head with noble pride, for the\nblood that flows through his veins is the blood of heroes. He can look\nattentively at the palm of his hand, and see there still the unction of\nearth, of powder, and of the priesthood. The pioneer has nobly filled\nhis mission: yours remains to be accomplished. A people to whom God has\ngiven such ancestors is necessarily destined for something great, if it\nfaithfully corresponds with the designs of divine Providence. But let\nus leave these teachings, which properly belong to venerable heads, and\nreturn to our story.\n\n\nIII.\u2014EVENING.\n\nAt the remote period which we describe, the fur trade of Detroit was\nimmense; and the Indians, aided and encouraged by the facilities for\nreaching there, came in great numbers to sell the products of their\nhunting expeditions. There were representatives from the various\ntribes\u2014Iroquois, Potawatamies, Illinois, Miamis, and a host of others.\nM. Jacques Du Perron Baby was at that time Indian superintendent at\nDetroit. This was an extremely important and responsible position at\nthat period. M. Baby had realized a handsome fortune there in a few\nyears. Almost all the land on which the Detroit of to-day stands was\nthen owned by him and a Mr. Macomb, the father of General Macomb, who\ncommanded a portion of the American troops during the war of 1812. At\nthe close of this war, the entire property of M. Baby was confiscated\nin consequence of his political opinions, which were declared in favor\nof Canada _versus_ the United States. His fine mansion stood in the\ncentre of the fort, surrounded by a beautiful garden. Having luxurious\ntastes, he embellished it with all the requirements of refined and\ncultivated life. The garden was on raised ground, surrounded by a\nsodded terrace; the house stood in the centre, half concealed by a\ndense foliage of maple, pear, and acacia trees, which waved their\nbranches coaxingly over its roof. A number of birds, sometimes\nhidden in the branches, sometimes flying through the air, crossing,\npursuing each other, describing a thousand bewildering circles,\nabandoned themselves to joyous song, while the little _ramoneur_,[184]\ncomplaining on the chimney-top, mingled his shrill, harsh cry with\ntheir melodious voices. It was evening. The last rays of the setting\nsun colored with rose and saffron tints the tops of the forests.\nThe heat had been intense throughout the day. The evening breeze,\ncoquetting among the roses, dahlias, and flowering eglantine, refreshed\nexhausted nature deliciously, and perfumed the air with the most\nintoxicating fragrance. Tea was about being served in the garden, and\nthe table was most invitingly covered with tempting viands and lovely\nflowers. The superintendent and his family were seated around; a young\nofficer who had been several months in Detroit had been invited to join\nthe family party. Two colored servants waited most assiduously at the\nrepast. \u201cWhat a charming evening!\u201d said the officer\u2014he was a handsome\nyoung man, with light hair, noble and expressive features, and rather\na high forehead. There was a proud, intelligent expression in his\nbright eyes, and yet at times something vague and dreamy. \u201cTruly,\u201d he\ncontinued, \u201cI have never seen anything in Italy more delightful than\nthis; such a climate, and such ravishing scenery, such fine effects\nof light and shade! Look there along the horizon, and at those fleecy\nclouds which float through the azure sky; they resemble a superb scarf\nfringed with purple and gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is indeed a magnificent evening,\u201d replied the superintendent. \u201cWe\nreally enjoy a very fine climate in this section of country. I have\nnever seen anywhere a clearer sky or more transparent atmosphere, and\nnature so grand; but, against all of this, we are deprived of nearly\nall of the luxuries and comforts of the old country, to say nothing of\nthe constant dangers to which we are exposed from the Indians; for we\nare on the utmost limits of civilization. You, who have just left the\ncivilized shores of Europe, can scarcely form any idea of the cruelty\nof these barbarians. Life is indeed very severe in this new country.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d said his wife, whose fine physiognomy indicated her great force\nof character; \u201cit is only a few years ago that I was obliged to do\nsentinel duty, and stand at the entrance of the fort with a gun in my\nhand, while the men were occupied in cultivating the fields around\nit.\u201d[185]\n\nThe conversation was here interrupted by one of the servants, who came\nto say that a stranger was waiting to see the superintendent and his\nwife. They all arose from the tea-table.\n\n\u201cYou look very sad this evening, mademoiselle,\u201d said the officer,\naddressing a young girl of sixteen or eighteen years of age, and who,\nfrom a strong resemblance, could be easily recognized as the daughter\nof M. Baby. \u201cWhat can have happened to cause such a shadow to fall on\nyour fair brow; while all are smiling around you, your heart seems full\nof sorrow? It is almost impossible that any one could contemplate this\nlovely scene, and not experience a feeling of interior peace. Nothing\nso completely bewilders me like an evening of this kind. This graceful\nharmony of light and shade is for me full of a mysterious intoxication.\u201d\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said the young girl, \u201ca few days ago I too could have enjoyed\nthis scene; but to-day, as it were, every object is covered with a\nfunereal pall. This beautiful sky, these green fields, the flowers\nand fruit, these vermilion roses, which charm your sight, all make me\nshudder. I see blood everywhere.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy God!\u201d cried the officer, \u201cwhat misfortune can have happened to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! only a few hours ago, I witnessed such a distressing scene that it\nis impossible to imagine it. I cannot obliterate it from my mind, or\ndistract my thoughts in the least from the shocking spectacle. But I\nought not to distress you by this sorrowful recital. I had rather let\nyou enjoy tranquilly these hours that afford you so much pleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cContinue, continue,\u201d exclaimed he. \u201cRelate to me this tragic story.\nHappiness is often so selfish, but we should always have our sympathies\nready for the sorrows of others.\u201d\n\nThe young girl then continued: \u201cDay before yesterday evening, a party\nof Indians half intoxicated came into the fort to see my father; they\nbrought with them a young girl, whom they had captured several days\nbefore. Oh! if you could only have seen the despair on her countenance!\nPoor child, her clothes were in rags, her hair hung in tangled masses,\nand her face was all scratched and bleeding. She did not utter a\ncomplaint, nor did she weep; but stood with fixed eyes, mute and\nimmovable as a statue. We might have believed her dead but for a slight\ntrembling of the lips that betrayed the life that was not visible.\nIt was a fearful sight. I have never seen anything like it. Great\nmisfortunes are like severe wounds; they dry up our tears as terrible\nand sudden wounds arrest the blood in our veins. Compassionating her\ndistressed situation, my sister and myself made her come in and stay\nin our room through the night; but we did not deceive ourselves with\nthe slightest hope that anything could be done for her rescue, for we\nknew too well the character of these savages. Nevertheless, we tried to\nsustain her with a little hope that something might possibly be done.\nPerhaps our father could succeed in inducing the Indians to let her go.\nAt last she gradually recovered from her state of stupor, and told us\nher sad, sad story.\u201d\n\n\nIV.\u2014AGONY.\n\n\u201cI have lived for some time,\u201d said she, \u201cnear Fort Wayne with my\nmarried sister. One morning, while her husband was at work in the\nfield, several Indians suddenly entered our house. \u2018Where is your\nhusband?\u2019 they inquired roughly of my sister. \u2018He is at Fort Wayne,\u2019\nshe replied, frightened by their sinister aspect; and they went out\nagain. Full of anxiety, we followed them with our eyes for some time.\n\u2018O my God! sister,\u2019 exclaimed I, trembling, \u2018I am so frightened, so\nterrified. Let us fly; these savages appear to me to be meditating\nsome dreadful act. I am convinced that they will return.\u2019 Without\npaying any attention to my words, she continued to watch them as they\nwent off in the direction of Fort Wayne. The road which they took lay\nonly a short distance from the place where her husband was quietly\nat work, not having the slightest idea of the danger that threatened\nhim. Fortunately, a clump of trees hid him from their sight. We began\nto breathe more freely, for they had now gone beyond the field; but\nsuddenly one of them happened to turn around. \u2018They have discovered\nhim! they have discovered him!\u2019 shrieked my sister, almost fainting\nwith terror. And really they had all stopped, and were looking in the\ndirection where Joseph was stooping down, gathering up the branches of\na tree which he had just cut down. He had no suspicion of danger. The\nIndians, concealed by the trees, were now only a short distance off.\nSuddenly we heard the report of a gun, and Joseph fell to the ground.\nBelieving him dead, they advanced boldly; but the ball had only grazed\nhis head, and he was stunned for the moment. He quickly recovered\nhimself, and, making a breastwork of the branches of the felled tree,\nseized his gun, and in an instant two of them were stretched stiff\ncorpses on the ground. The others, alarmed, made a precipitate retreat\ntoward the edge of the woods, and then a quick firing commenced on both\nsides. Joseph was a fine marksman; at each shot, he disabled an enemy.\nThree had already fallen. We awaited, in an agony of apprehension, the\nresult of the mortal combat, which would not have been doubtful had\nit been only an ordinary enemy that the savages had to contend with.\nBut Joseph was a formidable adversary. He fired rapidly, reloading his\ngun with the most perfect coolness, while the balls were whistling all\naround him. Placing the muzzle of his gun between the branches, he made\nthe sign of the cross on his breast at the moment of taking aim; then,\npulling the trigger, we counted another Indian less. Every time I saw\na new victim fall, I could not repress a tremor of delight. Joseph\u2019s\nunerring ball had just struck a fourth enemy. We began to hope, when we\ndiscovered one of the savages creeping along on the ground behind him.\nNo serpent could have advanced with more cunning or address. Without\nshaking a pebble or disturbing a leaf, he approached slowly; at one\ntime concealing himself behind a little knoll, then under a thicket\nof brambles, only exposing himself when he saw Joseph busy taking\naim. Finally he arrived within two steps of him without being seen.\nThen, stopping, he waited until Joseph had reloaded his gun. Without\nsuspecting the danger behind him, he raised his gun to his shoulder to\ntake aim; then we saw him lower it quickly, and look around. He had\nheard a slight noise in the bushes near him. He raised his head and\nlistened an instant, then leaned toward the right, and then toward the\nleft, without perceiving anything; for the savage was lying flat on the\nground, behind a pile of branches. Feeling entirely reassured, he again\nraised his gun to take aim. At the same moment, the Indian, with an\ninfernal smile, raised himself from the earth, and, just as Joseph was\npreparing to immolate another enemy, he brandished his knife. A last\nshot was heard, a last Indian fell; but Joseph had also fallen, struck\nto the heart by the cowardly fiend. The wretch then proceeded to scalp\nhim, after which he plundered him of his clothes, in which he arrayed\nhimself.\u201d\n\n\nV.\u2014LAMENTATION.\n\n\u201cParalyzed with horror and fright, we thought no longer of saving\nourselves. My sister, in her despair, pressed her baby to her heart,\nand threw herself at the foot of a crucifix, which she seized in her\nhands, and mutely covered it with tears and kisses, while I, too,\nutterly overcome, threw myself on my knees beside her, and mingled\nmy tears and prayers with hers. Poor mother! she did not tremble for\nherself, but for her child\u2014that dear little angel, whom she loved so\ntenderly, whom she so adored. It was indeed a beautiful babe, scarcely\neighteen months old, and had already begun to lisp \u2018Mamma.\u2019 \u2018O my God!\u2019\ncried my sister between her sobs, \u2018if I must die, I willingly give up\nmy life; but save, oh! save my child!\u2019 Then, embracing it, and bathing\nit in her tears, she clasped it to her heart, and sank to the floor\ninsensible. Although more dead than alive myself, I tried to sustain\nher, and had her in my arms, when Joseph\u2019s murderer entered, followed\nby his cruel companions. Without uttering a word, he advanced toward\nus, and violently snatched the child from its mother. She had not heard\nthem enter the room, but, when they tore the child away from her,\nshe shuddered and suddenly recovered her consciousness. The savages,\nexasperated at having lost seven of their comrades, now only thought\nof blood and vengeance. The assassin of Joseph, holding the child at\narm\u2019s length, looked at it with the diabolical expression of a serpent\ncharming his victim before striking him. It was an angel in the grasp\nof a demon. The monster smiled\u2014Satan alone could have laughed as he\ndid. The baby, as if to supplicate his pity, smiled also, with that\nangelic expression of innocence that would have moved the most hardened\nand obdurate of hearts. But he, seizing it by the leg, whirled it round\nfor an instant, and then\u2014oh! horror!\u2014dashed its head against the\nheavy edge of the huge stove. Its brains spattered over its mother\u2019s\nface. Like a tiger she sprang at the murderer of her child. Maternal\nlove gave her superhuman strength, and, seizing him by the throat, she\nburied her fingers in his flesh. He tottered; his face turned black,\nand he fell heavily to the floor, suffocated by the strength of her\ndesperate grasp. She would have undoubtedly strangled him, had not\nanother savage at that instant struck her a blow on the head with his\nhatchet. My poor sister! her death was indeed a cruel one, but her\nagony only lasted a moment\u2014her troubles are ended, and she is now in\nheaven. But I\u2014what will become of me? You see the condition that I am\nin. O my God, my God! have pity on me.\u201d\n\nAnd the young girl, wringing her hands in despair, threw herself\nsobbing into my arms, pressed me to her heart, and implored me not to\nabandon her into the hands of these brutal savages. But, oh! what is\nmore heart-breaking than to witness misfortune without the power of\nalleviating it! We spent the night in weeping and trying to encourage\nher, but I could not help feeling at the time that it was cruel to\ninspire her with a confidence that I had not; for I knew these savages\ntoo well. I knew that the monsters never abandoned their victims. The\nnext day, my father tried in every way to conciliate them, and then\ninterceded in behalf of the young captive. He offered any amount of\nransom for her, but in vain; nothing would tempt them. The effects\nof the liquor had not entirely worn off, and they were sullen and\nobstinate. My father used in turn prayers and threats to move them;\nbut neither presents, prayers, nor threats could rescue her from their\nmerciless hands. The wretched girl threw herself at their feet, and,\nembracing their knees, besought them to listen to her supplications;\nbut the monsters only replied to her entreaties by bursts of laughter;\nand, in spite of her prayers, and sobs, and supplications, they carried\nher off with them.[186]\n\n\u201cAlas!\u201d said Mlle. Baby, looking sorrowfully at the young officer, \u201care\nyou surprised now at my sadness, and that I could not smile and be gay\nafter having witnessed such a scene?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe demons!\u201d exclaimed the officer, stamping his foot in horror\nand indignation. \u201cThis infamous, bloodthirsty race should be\nexterminated\u2014exterminated to the last man. Why did I not know this\nsooner? Yesterday, a Potawatamie came to my quarters to sell some furs.\nHe asked three times as much as they were worth, and I declined buying\nthem. He hung around for some time, annoying me very much, until I\nfinally ordered him to leave. He refused to do so; then, losing all\npatience with the fellow, I rose from my seat, and, leading him to the\ndoor, I kicked him out. He went away muttering, and threatening me with\nhis knife. I had a stick in my hand, and I now regret that I did not\nknock him down.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow imprudent!\u201d said the young girl. \u201cYou ought not to have provoked\nthat Indian; don\u2019t you know that a savage never forgets an injury? He\nmay wander around the fort for a year, spying all of your movements,\nwatching your footsteps, tracking you everywhere, hiding in the woods\nand among the rushes in the river, until an opportunity offers, and he\nwill approach with all the _finesse_ and cunning of a serpent, spring\nupon you like a tiger, and strike you a death-blow, when you least\nexpect it. I see that you go every day out of the fort to fish on the\nbanks of the river. I advise you not to go any more; it is not safe,\nand something terrible might happen to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw!\u201d said the young officer, \u201cyou are too timid. I saw the fellow\nleave this morning with a number of warriors belonging to his tribe;\nthey were going to Quebec to sell the furs, which they could not\ndispose of here.\u201d\n\n\nVI.\u2014THE DREAM.\n\nThe clock in the _salon_ had just struck one. Mme. Baby and her\ndaughter were seated sewing in the deep recess of an open window,\nwith a little work-table in front of them. M. Baby had gone away\nthat morning, to look after some land that he had just bought on the\nother side of the river. The streets were deserted; nearly all the\ninhabitants of the fort were at work in the fields in the vicinity.\nThe heat was intense. Not a breath agitated the trees in the garden,\nwhose motionless branches drooped languidly toward the earth, as if\nimploring a refreshing breath or a drop of dew. A negro servant was\nspreading some linen out to dry on the bushes, and put to flight, in\nher perambulations, some chickens that were panting with the heat\nunder the sheltering foliage of the trees and shrubs. The silence was\nonly broken by the buzzing of insects, and the noisy whirr of the\ngrasshopper as it danced through the sunlight. The open window, filled\nwith bouquets, looked into the garden, and the pale, melancholy face\nof Mlle. Baby could be seen between them, bending over an open flower\nwhich imaged her loveliness in its fragrant corolla. \u201cMamma,\u201d said she\nat last, raising her head, \u201cdo you think papa will be away a long time?\u201d\n\n\u201cI think he will be back in four or five days at the latest,\u201d replied\nher mother. \u201cBut why do you ask such a question?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! because I am so anxious to have him back again. I want him to take\nus immediately to Quebec, instead of waiting until next month. The trip\nwill divert my thoughts; for, since those Indians were here the other\nday with that poor girl they had captured, I have not had a moment\u2019s\npiece of mind. She is always before my eyes. I see her everywhere;\nshe follows me everywhere. I even saw her in my dream last night. I\nthought I was sitting in the midst of a gloomy and immense forest, near\na wild, rushing river that dashed over a precipice into a bottomless\nchasm a few steps from me. On the opposite bank, which was covered with\nflowers, and charming to behold, stood the young captive, pale and\ntranquil, in a halo of soft, transparent light. She seemed to be in\nanother world. She held in her hands an open book, and, bending towards\nme, she slowly turned over the leaves. She turned at least sixteen;\nthen she stopped and looked at me with an expression of the greatest\nsorrow and distress, and made a sign to some one, who then seemed to be\nstanding near me, to cross the torrent. At the signal, all his limbs\ntrembled; his knees knocked together, and his eyes dilated, his mouth\ngasped with terror, and a cold perspiration stood upon his forehead. He\ntried to draw back, but an invincible power drew him toward the abyss.\nHe turned toward me, and besought my help most piteously. I experienced\nthe greatest commiseration for him, and tried in vain to extend my\nhands to help him; invisible cords bound all my limbs, and prevented\nany movement whatsoever. Vainly he tried to cling to the cliffs along\nthe shore; a relentless force impelled him towards the abyss. He had\nalready reached the middle of the stream, whose deep and foaming waters\nroared around him, as if impatient to swallow him up. He tottered at\nevery step, and came near losing his equilibrium; but, rallying his\nstrength, he struggled on. At last a great wave broke over him, and\nhe lost his balance. His feet slipped; he looked toward me with a\nglance of the most inexpressible anguish, and fell. In an instant, he\nwas borne to the brink of the precipice; he threw out his hands, and\ngrasped at a piece of rock that jutted out of the water, burying his\nfingers in the green and slimy moss which covered it. For an instant,\nhe hung on with the strength of despair; his body, stopped suddenly in\nits precipitate course, appeared for an instant above the waves. The\nfoam and spray enveloped it like a cloud, and the wind from the fall\nblew through his dank and dripping hair. His dilated eyes were fastened\non the rock, which little by little receded from his convulsive grasp.\nFinally, with a terrible shriek, he disappeared in the yawning gulf\nbelow. Transfixed with agony and horror, I looked across at the young\ncaptive; but she, without uttering a word, wiped away a tear, and\nsilently pointed to the last page in the book, which seemed to me to\nbe covered with blood. I screamed aloud with fright, and awoke with a\nstart. My God! will it be a page in my life?\u201d\n\n\nVII.\u2014BLOOD.\n\nScarcely had Mlle. Baby finished speaking, when the sound of hasty\nfootsteps was heard at the door, and a man, covered with blood, and\nwith a terrified look, rushed in. It was the young officer. His right\narm was broken, and hanging at his side.\n\n\u201cHide me quickly,\u201d cried he. \u201cI am pursued by the Indians.\u201d\n\n\u201cUp in the attic, quick,\u201d said Mme. Baby to him, \u201cand do not stir for\nyour life.\u201d\n\nIn another moment, the savages had entered the room; but, before they\ncould say a word, Mme. Baby pointed to the next street, and they went\nout again quickly, believing that the officer had escaped in that\ndirection. The admirable composure of Mme. Baby had completely deceived\nthem. Not a muscle of her face betrayed her excessive agitation, and,\nhappily, they did not have time to notice the mortal pallor of the\nyoung girl, who, still leaning among the flowers on the window-sill,\nhad almost fainted away. It was one of those moments of inexpressible\nanguish when a chill like death strikes the heart. Mme. Baby hoped\nthat the savages, fearing the superintendent, would not dare to force\nthemselves into the house; and yet, who could stop them if they did,\nor who could foresee what these barbarians, once having tasted blood,\nmight do? She hoped that their fruitless efforts might induce them\nto abandon their search, or, if they persisted, that she would have\nsufficient time to obtain help, in case they again entered the house.\nMaking a sign to a servant who was at work in the garden, she ordered\nhim to run as fast as he could, and notify some men belonging to the\nfort of the danger which threatened them. Some anxious minutes elapsed,\nbut the savages did not return. \u201cDo you think they have really gone?\u201d\nasked the young girl, in a low tone. A faint glimmer of hope appeared\nin her countenance.\n\n\u201cEven if they should return,\u201d answered Mme. Baby, \u201cthey would not dare\n...\u201d\n\nShe did not finish, but leaning toward the window, she tried to catch\nthe sound of human voices which were heard in the distance. Was it the\nhelp that she expected, or was it the voices of the Indians coming\nback? She could not distinguish. The sound drew nearer and nearer, and\nbecame more distinct as it approached. \u201cThey are our men,\u201d exclaimed\nMlle. Baby. \u201cDon\u2019t you hear the barking of our dog?\u201d And she drew a\nlong breath of relief, as if an immense weight had been taken from her\nheart.\n\nMme. Baby did not reply; a faint smile played over her lips. She,\ntoo, had heard the dogs barking; but another noise that she knew only\ntoo well had also reached her ears. Very soon the voices became so\ndistinct that it was impossible to be deceived any longer. \u201cHere they\nare, here they are!\u201d shrieked the young girl, sinking into a seat near\nthe window, as the different-colored feathers with which the savages\ndecorated their heads appeared between the trees.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t tremble so,\u201d said Mme. Baby in a quiet voice to her daughter,\n\u201cor you will betray us. Look out of the window, and don\u2019t let them\nperceive your emotion.\u201d\n\nCourage and coolness at a critical moment are always admirable, but\nwhen a woman possesses these qualities, they are sublime. Calm and\nimpassive, without even rising from her seat, Mme. Baby tranquilly\ncontinued her work. The most practised eye could not have detected the\nsmallest trace of emotion, the least feverish excitement or agitation,\non her commanding and noble countenance. A heroine\u2019s heart beat in\nher woman\u2019s breast, and it was thus that she awaited the arrival of\nthe savages. \u201cTell us where you have concealed the white warrior,\u201d\ncried the first one who entered the room. It was the Potawatamie whom\nthe young officer had so imprudently offended. He was dripping with\nperspiration, and out of breath with his long and fatiguing quest.\nYou could see the rage and exasperation of his disappointment in his\nferocious glances, his scowling brow, and the excitement that made\nevery feature quiver.\n\n\u201cComrade,\u201d replied Mme. Baby, in a tranquil tone of voice, \u201cyou know\nthe superintendent well; and, if you have the misfortune to misbehave\nin his house, you will get into trouble.\u201d\n\nThe Indian hesitated a moment, then said, in a feigned mildness of\nvoice, \u201cMy white sister knows that the Potawatamie loves peace, and\nthat he never makes the first attack. The white warrior is on the\nwar-path, or the Potawatamie would not have pursued.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not hidden the white warrior,\u201d answered Mme. Baby. \u201cIt is\nuseless to search here; you had better look elsewhere, or he will\nescape you.\u201d\n\nThe Indian did not reply, but, looking at Mme. Baby with a smile, he\npointed to a little stain on the floor that no one but an Indian would\nhave discovered. But the sharp eye of the savage had detected there a\ntrace of his enemy. It was a drop of blood, which Mme. Baby had taken\nthe precaution to wipe away most carefully. \u201cMy sister has told the\ntruth,\u201d said the Indian, in an ironical tone. \u201cThe white warrior has\nnot passed this way; that drop of blood, I suppose, she put there to\npersuade the Indian that she had concealed the white warrior.\u201d Then,\nassuming a more serious tone, he continued: \u201cMy sister, know well that\nthe Potawatamie will do the white warrior no harm; only show us where\nhe is hidden, and we will go away; we only want to take him pris ...\u201d\nHe stopped, and, bending his head forward, looked through an open\nwindow at the other end of the apartment; then, giving a hideous yell,\nhe rushed across the room, and leaped out of the window that opened\ninto the garden. His ferocious companions followed him, howling like a\ntroop of demons. Without seeing what had happened, Mme. Baby understood\nall. The young officer, hearing the Indians return, and believing\nhimself lost, had the imprudence to jump out of one of the windows\ninto the garden. He ran toward a covered fountain in the centre of the\n_parterre_ to hide, when the Indian perceived him. How can I describe\nthe scene which followed? The pen drops from my hand. In two bounds,\nthey had reached him, and one of the savages, striking him a terrible\nblow with his fist, sent him reeling to the ground. He fell on his\nbroken arm, and the excruciating pain caused him to utter a deep groan.\nThey then seized hold of him, and bound his hands and feet. Poor young\nman! what resistance could he make to his cruel enemies, with a broken\narm, and totally disabled and weakened by the loss of blood. He called\nfor help, but the echoes in the garden only answered his cries, and\nredoubled the horror of the scene. Mlle. Baby, bereft of her senses,\nthrew herself at her mother\u2019s feet, and, hiding her face on her knees,\nshe covered her ears with her hands, to shut out, if possible, from\nsight and hearing the frightful tragedy. While the rest of the savages\nwere tying their victim down, the Potawatamie drew out his knife, and\ndeliberately commenced to sharpen it on a stone. His face betrayed no\nexcitement whatever; not even the horrible pleasure of gratifying his\nvengeance, which caused his heart to palpitate with an infernal joy,\ncould change his stoical countenance. \u201cMy brother the white warrior,\u201d\nsaid he, continuing to whet his knife with the utmost coolness, \u201cknows\nvery well that he can insult the Potawatamie with impunity, because the\nPotawatamie is a coward, and would rather run than fight.... Does my\nbrother now wish to make peace with his friend, the Potawatamie? He can\nspeak if he wishes, and name his terms, for he is free.\u201d Then, suddenly\nassuming a ferocious air, he straightened himself up, and, fixing his\ninflamed eyes on the young officer, said: \u201cMy brother the white warrior\ncan now chant his death-song, because he must die.\u201d And brandishing\nhis knife, he plunged it into his throat, while another of these\nmonsters caught the blood in a little copper kettle. The rest of the\nsavages then kicked and stamped upon the body with the most infernal\nyells and contortions. The death-rattle of the poor victim, mingling\nwith these howls, reached the ears of the young girl, and she shook\nin a convulsion of horror. At last it all ceased. The victim had been\nimmolated. Pushing aside the corpse with his foot, the Potawatamie,\nfollowed by his companions, came again toward the house. \u201cHa! ha! so\nyou would not tell us where your friend, the white warrior, was?\u201d cried\nthe Indian, as he entered the room. \u201cVery well, since you love him so\nmuch, you shall drink his blood.\u201d Mme. Baby, pale as a marble statue,\ndrew herself up firmly. \u201cYou can kill me,\u201d said she, \u201cbut you can never\nmake me drink it!\u201d The young girl had fainted, and was lying at her\nmother\u2019s feet. They seized hold of Mme. Baby, and tried to force open\nher mouth; but failing in their efforts, they threw the contents of the\nvessel in her face, and left the house.[187]\n\n\nVIII.\u2014THE SERPENT.\n\nSeveral months had elapsed since the events had taken place which we\nhave just narrated. It was night. In the centre of the garden, a simple\nblack cross had been erected on the spot where the unfortunate young\nman had been massacred. No inscription revealed to the passer-by either\nthe name of the victim or the fatal circumstances of his death. Alas!\nit was written for ever in characters of blood on the hearts of the\nfamily. Every evening, the superintendent, with his wife, children, and\nservants, assembled at the foot of this cross, to pray for the repose\nof the soul of his unfortunate friend. On this especial evening, all\nthe family had as usual visited the grave, and returned to the house,\nexcept the young girl, who, dressed in deep mourning, still remained\nkneeling at the foot of the sombre monument. She was very pale, and\nthere was an expression of the most ineffable sadness on her face. The\nevening dew had almost entirely uncurled her long ringlets, which now\nhung in disorder around her cheeks. You might have mistaken her for a\nstatue of grief. From the clear, high heaven above, the moon poured\nfloods of melancholy light. Its dreamy rays fell on the sod at the\nfoot of the cross and on the face of the young girl like a thought from\nbeyond the tomb\u2014like a silent and grateful sigh from the innocent\nvictim whose memory had left so tender and anguishing an impression\nin her soul. Her lips moved in ardent prayer\u2014prayer, that celestial\nsolace of the grief-stricken heart, the smile of the angels through\nthe tears of earth. For a long time she thus silently held communion\nwith her God, breathing out her prayers with sighs and tears, as\nshe knelt at the foot of this cross, on the sod still damp with the\nvictim\u2019s blood. At last she rose, and was about to leave, when, raising\nher eyes for a moment, she thought she saw a shadow moving across an\nopening in the wall of a shed near by. A cloud, at that moment passing\nover the moon, prevented her from distinguishing what the object was.\nShe waited a moment until the cloud had passed over, when what was\nher astonishment to see a human face in the aperture! It must be a\nrobber, she thought, and yet she knew positively that the gate was well\nsecured. \u201cHe will find himself nicely caught when the servants come to\nlock up,\u201d said she to herself. By degrees, however, the head was pushed\nmore and more through the air-hole, and gradually emerged from the\nobscurity. At the same moment, the moonlight fell clear and full on the\nface. The young girl actually shivered. She recognized it but too well;\nit was impossible to be mistaken. It was he; she recognized perfectly\nhis copper skin, his hard, ferocious features, and his yellowish eyes,\nrolling in their sockets. It was indeed the Potawatamie, the murderer\nof the young officer.[188]\n\nHer first thought was flight, but an invincible curiosity fastened\nher to the spot. The Indian continued to work through the aperture;\none arm was already out, and he held something in his hand which\nshe could not discern. He tried for a long time to get through the\nair-hole, which was too small for his body. Finally, while making a\nlast effort, he suddenly turned his head, and fixed his eyes with a\nvery uneasy expression on a little bush near him. He seemed undecided\nwhat to do; then, letting go the object, he rested his hand on the\nground, and, pushing it against the earth with all his strength, tried\nto force himself back again through the hole. But his broad shoulders,\ncompressed on both sides by the wall, held him like a vice, and he\ncould neither move one way nor another. Then his uneasiness increased,\nand he looked again anxiously toward the bushes. A slight rustling of\nthe leaves was then perceptible, and a small head emerged slowly from\nthe shadow of the branches, and extended itself toward the savage.\nIt was a rattlesnake.[189] Immovable and with fixed eyes, the Indian\nwatched the least movement of the reptile, which advanced softly and\ncautiously, as if aware of the strength and power of his redoubtable\nadversary. When within a few feet of the savage, it stopped, raised\nitself up, and, throwing out its forked tongue, sprang toward his face;\nbut, before he could touch him, the Indian, as quick as thought, gave\nhim a violent blow with the hand that was free, and the reptile fell\na short distance from him. Then he began again to make every effort\nto disengage himself; but in vain. The snake, now furious, advanced\na second time to recommence the attack, but with more caution than\nbefore. Approaching still nearer to his enemy, he threw himself forward\nwith much greater violence, but without success; for the hand of the\nsavage sent him rebounding further off than before. The Potawatamie\nthen gathered all his strength for a final effort of liberation, but\nof no avail: he remained fast in the opening of the air-hole. Quick\nas lightning, the reptile, now foaming at the mouth, with blazing\neyes, and jaws swollen with rage, his forked tongue extended, sprang\nwith renewed strength toward his prey. His scaly skin glistened and\nsparkled in the silvery light of the moon, and the slight noise made by\nhis rattles resembled the rustling of parchment, and alone broke the\nsilence of the night. This mortal combat in the stillness of night,\nbetween a serpent and a savage more subtle than the serpent, had an\nindescribable fascination; it was more like a contest between two evil\nspirits, in the shadow of night, over some unfortunate victim. The\nserpent now approached so near the Indian that he could almost have\nseized him with his hand; he raised himself a last time, and, throwing\nback his head, sprang forward. The savage, guarding himself carefully\nwith his one hand, had followed with his eyes the least movement of\nthe writhing body. It was plain to see that the final fight had begun,\nand could only terminate in the total vanquishment of one or the other\nof the combatants. At the instant that the snake sprang like an arrow\nupon his enemy, the Indian raised his hand; but this time the attack\nof the reptile had been so rapid and instantaneous that, before he\ncould strike him a blow, his fangs had entered his cheek. A hoarse cry\ndied away in the throat of the savage, who, seizing the serpent with\nhis hand before he could escape, raised him to his mouth, and in his\nrage tore him to pieces with his teeth. A vain reprisal\u2014the blow had\nbeen struck. A short time after, the most horrible cries and fearful\nconvulsions announced that the mortal venom had entered his veins. The\nvictim writhed with despair in the midst of his excruciating agony.\nIt was thought at first that he had finally succeeded in getting out;\nbut subsequently they found the body, enormously swollen, still held\nin the aperture of the air-hole. His bloodshot eyes were starting\nfrom their sockets, his face as black as ink, while his gaping mouth\nrevealed two rows of white teeth, to which still clung the fragments of\nthe reptile\u2019s skin, and flakes of bloody foam. Providence had indeed\nterribly avenged the assassination of the young officer.\n\n\n\n\nTHE JESUITS IN PARIS.\n\n\nA WALK in the direction of the gloomy though now as ever fashionable\nFaubourg St. Germain is not exactly one that a non-fashionable person\nwould ordinarily choose; nor does the Rue de S\u00e8vres in that quarter\nhold out any particular inducement for a foot-passenger to traverse it.\n\nHowever, it was to the Rue de S\u00e8vres that, on the 18th of January,\n1873, I bent my steps; for at one o\u2019clock precisely I had an\nappointment to keep there with a Father of the _Compagnie de J\u00e9sus_;\nand No. 35 in that street is the society\u2019s headquarters.\n\nI crossed the Seine at the Pont Royale, and soon found myself in the\nmain artery of the faubourg\u2014the well-known Rue du Bac. I splashed\nalong with omnibuses that seemed determined to do their best to destroy\nthe roughly macadamized carriage-road; by huge gaps in the fa\u00e7ade,\nwhere the _p\u00e9troleuse_ had been at work, and where the dull-red walls\nlooked as if the destroying element were still lurking about them;\nby blue-coated and blue-hooded policemen, who scrutinized one to an\nextent that made you debate within your mind whether you had or had\nnot picked the pocket of a passer-by, or lately become affiliated to\nthe _Internationale_. On, by the \u201cMaison Petit St. Thomas\u201d\u2014a large\ndry-goods establishment, the name of which may bring back perhaps to\nsome of our lady readers the pleasant season passed a few years since\nin Paris, with its gay _f\u00eates_ and agreeable shopping excursions. On,\ntill the plate-glass of the store windows becomes less costly, and\nthe fish and the _charcuterie_, or ham and sausage shops, become more\nplentiful. On, till at last, to right and left, \u201cRue de S\u00e8vres,\u201d in\nbold white letters on a blue ground, tells me that I have reached my\ndestination. To save time, I thought it necessary to ask some one where\nthe particular house that I wanted was situated. I looked at a _sergent\nde ville_, but his glances repelled me. I turned towards a cabman, but\nI fancied he expected something more than I was prepared to give him;\nand then, not in despair, but in the natural order of things, I had\nrecourse to the inevitable Parisian chestnut-man, who (I having taken\nthe precaution of buying two sous\u2019 worth of damply-warm chestnuts)\nwillingly gave me all the information that I required.\n\nThe exterior of No. 35 Rue de S\u00e8vres is as much like that of any other\nhouse in Paris as you can well imagine. There is a certain number of\nfeet of stucco, relieved by oblong windows; and there are two large\n_portes coch\u00e8res_, or folding-doors, far apart from one another, and\nlooking incapable either of being opened or closed; although, in point\nof fact, the one leads to the church, and the other to the convent.\n\nI entered, of course, by the last-named portal, and, passing through\nthe usual French courtyard, knocked at a glass door, from whence it was\nevident that a brother porter within held communication with the world\nwithout.\n\nI presented my letter of introduction to him, and, while he was making\narrangements for the transmission of it to the rightful owner, because\nit was raining heavily, and because I saw only one door open, I entered\nby that door, and found myself uninvited and unwittingly in the\n_conciergerie_, or porter\u2019s lodge, itself.\n\nThe _concierge_ and his occupation afforded me a good deal of\namusement, or, to speak less lightly, a good deal of room for thought\nduring part of the three-quarters of an hour that I was destined to\nwait for the arrival of the priest with whom I had the engagement.\nHe has under his control the management of ten brown wooden handles,\nattached to ten wires, which wires are connected with ten different\ndoors in different parts of the establishment.\n\nIf a person want a confessor, he pulls the wire connected with the\nchurch. If a lady desires advice, another pull opens the parlors to\nher. If a priest wishes to come from the convent, another pull in\nanother direction is necessary. And as these pulls (except in the last\ncase) are invariably followed by a message sent through a speaking-tube\nby the same brother porter, to inform the priest of the fact that he is\nwanted; and as through the before-mentioned glass door and otherwise\nhe receives all letters, and answers all queries, both from within and\nwithout, he has, I take it, a pretty hard time of it.\n\nI had been too much absorbed at first to observe what was taking place\naround me; but, after a little, I began to remark that the priests,\nin passing to and fro through the _conciergerie_, bestowed upon me\nmore glances of earnest inquiry than I thought my personal appearance\nactually warranted. At last the mystery was solved by one father being\nso good as to tell me that seculars generally waited in the parlors.\nI bowed, thanked him gratefully, and went; but not before I had\ndiscovered that, if the pigeon-holes for letters be a true test, there\nwere fourteen or more priests resident in the Rue de S\u00e8vres at that\nparticular time.\n\nI was not sorry for the exchange of place. It was strangely interesting\nto be sitting in those rooms where, so short a time since, the\nCommunists, under the command of an energetic young gentleman named\nCitoyen Lagrange, took prisoner the good Superior Father Olivaint and\nhis P\u00e8re Procureur, M. Caubert.\n\nStrange to sit in those parlors, and gaze upon the large and\nwell-photographed portraits of those two men and martyrs, and to notice\nthe remarkable likeness existing between them. How both had the same\nsquare forehead and firmly set, powerful mouth; and how both looked\u2014as\nthey were\u2014soldiers ready to die under the banner for which they fought.\n\n_Ne pleurez pas sur moi_,[190] cried Father Olivaint to the solitary\ngroup of sympathizers whom he met on his way to the _Pr\u00e9fecture de\nPolice_.\n\nNo! _mon p\u00e8re_, we weep not, but rather thank God that the grand old\nspirit of martyrdom has not yet died out among us!\n\nBesides the thoughts which the past suggested to me, it was interesting\nto note the living occupants of the rooms. One silver-haired old\ngentleman, whom I afterwards found out to be the self-same P\u00e8re Alexis\nLefebvre whom Lagrange left in charge of the house, telling him to keep\nit _au nom de la Commune_, was holding a very serious conversation with\ntwo or three gentlemen, the red ribbons in whose button-holes declared\nthem to be _chevaliers de la Legion d\u2019Honneur_. Another father was\nhaving quite a small reception of middle-aged married ladies, who\nprobably had, or desired to have, sons either at the College of\nVaugirard or at that of S. Genevi\u00e8ve. Another\u2014but stay! here is my\nparticular father, to whose kindness I owe it that I have been enabled\nto write this paper.\n\nThe Society of Jesus is so well known to the citizens of New York that\nit would be superfluous for me to give any lengthened description of\nthe general principles of government upon which the order is based.\nSuffice it to say, for the benefit of the uninitiated, that, in common\nwith other religious, they have a head resident at the Roman court;\nprovincials under him, among whom the supervision of the different\nstations is divided; and superiors of individual houses.\n\nIt is peculiar, however, to the Society of Jesus that each provincial\nhas attendant upon him an officer called _socius_, whose care it is to\nlook after the pecuniary business of the province, and in many kindred\nways to assist his chief; but this office, I am informed, does not\nconfer any additional rank upon the holder.\n\nThe case is different, however, with some other officials of the\nsociety, called \u201cconsulters,\u201d who, as their name implies, are chosen\nfrom among the number of the elder and more experienced brethren.\n\nThe house in the Rue de S\u00e8vres was reopened in the year 1853, after\nhaving been considerably enlarged.\n\nThe main building consists of a plainly-built quadrangle, on the north\nside of which, and in immediate connection with it, stands the church,\ndedicated to the sacred name of Jesus. Running along all the inner\nsides of the quadrangle, both on the ground and the other two floors,\nis a lofty, well-ventilated corridor or cloister, adorned here and\nthere, after the usual manner of convents, with religious paintings.\n\nThe piece of ground forming the natural centre of the quadrangle is\nlaid out with shrubbery, though without pretension to anything more\nthan neatness.\n\nOn the ground floor are situated the refectory, the kitchens, and other\noffices; while the first and second floors are devoted exclusively to\nthe use of the fathers. The cells, like the corridors, are lofty and\nwell ventilated, but so simple in their arrangement as to require no\ndescription.\n\nThe priests, in the true monastic spirit, sweep and keep clean their\nown rooms and even the cloisters; and, from the general air of\ncleanliness and order that pervades the place, it is evident that the\nwork is well done. This walk through the cloisters of the Jesuit house\nin Paris would be uninteresting were it not for the remembrance of one\nne\u2019er-to-be-forgotten room; and for the sake of the names printed upon\nthe cell doors, bringing back as they do to one\u2019s mind the recollection\nof past times and weary troubles; and the near presence of men so many\nof whom have distinguished themselves in working for the cause of holy\nchurch.\n\nTread softly, and be silent now, as ye approach yonder door that bears\nno printed name; for the key that turns the jealous lock will disclose\nthat to thy gaze which should excite thy intensest feelings of humility!\n\nIt is the \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Room,\u201d where are kept the relics of the five heroic\nmen, each one of whom \u201cpro lege Dei sui certavit usque ad mortem\net a verbis impiorum non timuit; fundatus enim erat supra firmam\npetram.\u201d[191]\n\nAnatole de Beugy was arrested with the P\u00e8re Ducoudray.\n\n\u201cVoil\u00e0 un nom \u00e0 vous faire couper le cou,\u201d cried the officer in charge\nof the party of arrest.\n\n\u201cOh! j\u2019esp\u00e8re,\u201d replied the father calmly; \u201cque vous ne me ferez pas\ncouper le cou \u00e0 cause de mon nom.\u201d\n\nI imagine that the officer did not think more highly of F. de Beugy\nafter this. In fact, all through the time of his imprisonment, his\ncaptors seem not to have liked him or his indomitable _sang froid_. His\ncoat is there, in this \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Room\u201d (a secular one, by the bye),\nand it is pierced with seventy-two Communist bullets\u2014truly, a very\npalpable proof of his enemies\u2019 animosity.\n\nWhen the P\u00e8re Olivaint was on his way to execution, as he descended the\nstairs of the prison of La Roquette, he found\u2014how naturally!\u2014that he\nhad his breviary tightly grasped in his hand. \u201cThey have me,\u201d perhaps\nhe thought, \u201cbut they need not have _this_\u201d; and he presented the book\nto the _concierge_ of the prison, who had shown him some kindness. God\nknows what motives the man had, but an officer of the National Guard\nsnatched it from his hand, and threw it into the flames of a fire near\nby.\n\nThe _concierge_ recovered the breviary, or what remained of it, and it\nis now in the \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Room.\u201d\n\nHe who can look upon this relic without emotion must have a very hard\nheart indeed!\n\nDo any of us ever think that the spirit of penance\u2014corporal\npenance\u2014is dying out amongst us? There are instruments of\nself-mortification in this \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Room\u201d that will convince us to the\ncontrary.\n\nIt is not a miracle\u2014unless the world and life be all a miracle\u2014if,\nwhen men die wondrous deaths, wonderful things should follow upon those\ndeaths; and when we see a marble tablet in this \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Room\u201d telling\nhow, not eighteen months ago, at Mass-time, when the priest invoked the\nsaints whose relics lay beneath the altars in the church, a child was\nhealed of a grievous disease, we must not be surprised.\n\n\u201cEcce ego vobiscum sum omnibus diebus usque ad consummationem\ns\u0153culi.\u201d[192]\n\nThe beds from La Roquette are here\u2014pieces of sacking, stretched out by\na contrivance something similar to that made use of in the formation of\ncamp-stools.\n\nHere are the little silver cases in which the fathers concealed the\nBlessed Sacrament, to be at last, as each anticipated, his viaticum.\n\nBut enough....\n\nThe church, as I before stated, is situated on the north side of the\nquadrangle. It is Gothic, and of fair proportions, consisting of a\nchoir and two aisles. The only side chapel worthy of note is that where\nrepose the bodies of the PP. Olivaint, Ducoudray, Clerc, Caubert, and\nDe Beugy, murdered on the 24th and 26th of May, 1871, by the Communists\nof Paris. The walls, the floor, the whole chapel, in fact, is literally\ncovered with wreaths of blood-red _immortelles_; while in front of\nwhat, in the event of their canonization, will be the \u201cMartyrs\u2019 Altar,\u201d\nare five white marble slabs, bearing upon them the names of the five\nvictims, together with the incidents and date of their deaths.\n\nMy kind guide\u2014the priest whom I have elsewhere described as being\n\u201cmy particular father\u201d\u2014having now shown me all that was necessary of\nthe house and chapel, returned with me to his cell, and, in some very\ninteresting conversations then and on my succeeding visits, soon gave\nme an idea of the important works undertaken by his society in Paris.\n\n\u201cWe are,\u201d said he, \u201cquite a military order. Fighting is as much our\nbusiness as it is the soldier\u2019s; and I will even go so far as to say\nthat he is no true Jesuit who does not fight. Of enemies, as you may\nimagine, there is no lack whatever; but, undoubtedly, here our _b\u00eate\nnoire_ is socialism; for you know in Paris, as indeed elsewhere, it\nhas ever been our aim to undertake, if possible, the education of the\nmale portion of society. And this, unfortunately, happens to be the\nfavorite work of the socialists also; for, however faulty their code of\nmoral philosophy may be in other respects, they have at least grasped\nthe fact that to educate the affluent youth of a country is to form the\nintellect of a rising generation. However,\u201d concluded my instructor\nlaughingly, \u201cwe have never been _very_ popular in European society.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d I answered abstractedly; for I was thinking just then of the\nsacred name which the order bears\u2014of him who was \u201cVirum dolorum et\nscientem infirmitatem\u201d;[193] and my thoughts reverted to the martyr\nshrine that I had so lately seen in the chapel. \u201cBut perhaps you, who\nhave in such a special manner enrolled yourselves under the banner of\nthe sacred name of Jesus, have received of him a greater share than\nothers of the shame of the cross.\u201d\n\nThe father\u2019s reply was a very practical one. \u201cMy dear sir,\u201d said he,\n\u201cnothing of the kind. The world dislikes us because we persist in\nteaching, and because it knows perfectly well that all our teaching is\nimpregnated to the core with that particular kind of Catholicity which\nit hates\u2014the Catholicity, I mean, whose first principle is devotion\nand implicit obedience to the Holy See.\u201d\n\nIt will be seen, therefore, from the foregoing fragment of\nconversation, that the Jesuits\u2019 work in Paris is for the most part the\nCatholic education of the upper classes.\n\nThe fathers in the Rue de S\u00e8vres do, in one way and another, a good\ndeal of work, although but little, perhaps, of a character that\ndirectly identifies itself with the peculiar animus of the order to\nwhich I have alluded. They are popular as confessors, and this involves\na good deal of labor.\n\nThey direct two confraternities of men, each numbering respectively\nupwards of two hundred members. One is for the fathers of families,\nand the other for young men. Each society meets in the chapel upon\nalternate Thursdays for Mass and instruction. Again, the Jesuits render\nevery assistance that lies in their power to the parochial clergy; and\nthus the fathers become, now conductors of missions, and now Lenten or\nAdvent preachers.\n\nAt the Rue de S\u00e8vres are given retreats, not only to their own\nbrethren and the secular clergy, but also, and on a large scale, to\nprivate individuals\u2014men whom care has driven to seek refuge in the\ncontemplation of the treasures laid up for them in heaven.\n\nJesuits, whose duty calls them to places _en route_ to which Paris\nbecomes a natural resting-place, find a haven in the Rue de S\u00e8vres. The\nprovincial resides here when he is in Paris; and, finally, a few men\nwho, at a moment\u2019s notice, are available to be sent anywhere to meet a\nsudden emergency, make for the time this most interesting house their\nhome.\n\nIn a dark, narrow street in close proximity to the Pantheon\u2014in a\nstreet that, in its unlikeness to some other parts of the city, reminds\none of the Paris of history\u2014is situated the College of S. Genevi\u00e8ve.\nThis is the chief educational establishment of the order; the other\nbeing that of the school of the Immaculate Conception at Vaugirard\u2014a\nvillage on the southwest side of Paris.\n\nIn concluding this chapter in the life of what, next to holy church\nitself, must ever be considered the most wonderful organization that\nthe world has ever seen, I cannot do better than append a brief account\nof the character of the work done in these two houses.\n\nThe Ecole S. Genevi\u00e8ve, founded in the year 1854, proposes for its\nobject the preparation of youths for admission into the various\nprofessional colleges in France. That the work is a success may be\nseen in the fact that, in 1872-1873, sixty-four students were actually\nadmitted from thence to the military academy at St. Cyr, while\ntwenty-three more were declared \u201cadmissibles\u201d; that the same school\nsent sixteen boys to the Ecole Centrale, to be educated as engineers,\nseven to the Ecole Navale, and twenty-three to the Polytechnique; and,\nlastly, that, exclusive of these, many more have been admitted into\nother similar establishments in Paris or elsewhere. The aggregate\nnumber of students appears, from the statistics put into my hands, to\nexceed four hundred and fifty.\n\nThe present rector of S. Genevi\u00e8ve is the immediate successor of the\nP\u00e8re Ducoudray; and it is a noteworthy fact that three out of the five\nmen killed under the Commune were connected with the school; the other\ntwo being PP. Caubert and Clerc. The services of the last-named father\nmust have been extremely valuable; for, previous to his admission to\nthe Society of Jesus, he had been for many years a naval officer.\n\nThe school of the Immaculate Conception, at Vaugirard, is perhaps as\nperfect a specimen of its kind as can be found in Europe.\n\nAt the present moment, there are upwards of six hundred and forty boys,\nrepresenting the flower of the French _beau monde_, receiving at this\ninstitution a sound high-class education.\n\nOn his entrance, the scholar is at first put through an elementary\ncourse, out of which he is drafted into the sixth form, from which he\nrises to the third, and then completes his education by successive\ncourses of classics, rhetoric, and philosophy.\n\nThus, to an outsider and to a passer-by in Paris, appears the work of\nthat grand order whose aim we believe to be no less than the motto they\nhave adopted:\n\n_Ad majorem Dei gloriam!_\n\n\n\n\nSAN MARCO: A REMINISCENCE.\n\n\nIN all the great cities of the Old World, the cathedral is the nucleus\nround which gathers the social life of the community. It is a national\nmonument, a historical representative; it keeps in its tombs records\nmore precious to the nation than those treasured in archives and\nlibraries; it is identified with the city\u2019s success or failure, and\noften bears visible marks of this sympathetic life in its trophies or\nin its ruins. Of old, the principal church of a city became the mirror\nof the people\u2019s individuality; it took on the form that best expressed\nthe people\u2019s genius; it was an index to the national character. If this\nis so with other churches, it is perhaps even more strikingly true of\nS. Mark\u2019s in Venice.\n\nThis unique church, the S. Sophia of the West, and the inheritrix\n_par excellence_ of Byzantine treasures, is one that, to our fancy,\nmakes a deeper impression on the stranger than S. Peter\u2019s at Rome. To\ndescribe it technically; to speak of its uneven floor and crowded,\nheavy pilasters; to enumerate its columns, and analyze the color of\nits mosaics, is simply a desecration, besides inevitably implying an\nuntruth. Criticism cannot be anything but an afterthought, even though\ngenuine admiration should not be the first impression of the visitor.\nA spell is laid upon you at the very outset, and an indescribable\nfeeling of reverence steals over your every sense as you tread the\ndusky aisles. We have always found it most satisfactory, in visiting\neither churches or cities, to slowly drink in the spirit of the place,\nrather than rush into a dissection of its detailed sights; and we are\npersuaded that this slow, receptive method is the only way in which to\nenjoy travel of any sort.\n\nThus, for instance, S. Mark\u2019s became so woven in with our daily life\nthat, without being able to give a single date or statistical fact\nconcerning it, we were yet entirely penetrated with its peculiar\nbeauty, but, above all, by its silent influence.\n\nWe went there every morning to early Mass\u2014which, by the bye, is the\nonly way to see a beautiful church on the Continent. You grow to love\nit, to know its every corner, to feel its peace, to be quite at home\nin it, to look out for the sunbeam throwing its line of gold over some\nparticular spot on the marble floor, or for the red glow of the sunset\nto illumine some favorite mosaic. Then, too, you begin to know your\nfellow-worshippers, and to expect the clamorous hum of devotion with\nwhich this old man tells his beads, or to be disappointed if you fail\nto see the old beggar-woman crouching behind the ponderous door, and\nstretching out her hand with a ready blessing for the daily alms. S.\nMark\u2019s is one of the most peaceful churches in Europe; silence seems\nnatural to it, and not even a great ceremony appears to create any\nstir there. The midnight Mass, which, by a singular exemption from the\nordinary rule, takes place on Christmas eve, at five o\u2019clock in the\nafternoon (this and the Christmas Mass at Vienna are the only such\nexceptions), is celebrated with great pomp, and the music is not too\nfull of repose; yet the spirit of the church seems serenely unaltered,\nand the great brooding silence hangs over the echoes of the pageants,\nhushing them till the mind wanders away so far from their earthly\npresence that it is hardly more conscious of them than a man standing\non a high mountain would be of the suppressed hum of the city lying\nat his feet. But another solemnity have we witnessed in this church\nmuch more congenial to its spirit, and indeed the most impressive of\nall Christian ceremonies\u2014the office of _Tenebr\u00e6_. S. Mark\u2019s is never\nlighted by anything save the golden lamps of its distant shrines, and\nthe tall columns of wax on the high altar. The service on the three\nevenings of Holy Wednesday and Thursday, and Good Friday, is generally\nafter dark, and every one brings his own light\u2014a _cerino_, or coil\nof waxen taper\u2014by which to read his book. This will barely suffice\nfor two persons to read by, so that, from the gallery where we were\nstationed, we could see the church sown with stars, like the heavens at\nmidnight; while, in the various fantastic recesses above and below our\nown, called galleries, glimmered a score of similar fitful lights. The\nattendance was small, and the beauty of the sight thereby increased.\nThe chant, coming from below as the invisible choir breathed out the\nsolemn lamentations, had a weird, stilling effect, like that of the\nsighing of the wind among the pines, suggesting everything that was\nstrange, far-away, and desolate. We had heard the _Miserere_ of the\nSistine Chapel in Rome, and likened it to what one might dream the\nangels to have sung while Christ hung on the cross of Calvary; but\nthis\u2014the same service, the same words, almost the same chant\u2014seemed\nrather what the watchers round the sepulchre might have whispered amid\ntheir sobs, as they left the sacred body of their dead Lord on the\nevening of the first Good Friday.\n\nAmong the few people whose faces were near enough to be recognized\nwere some of our acquaintances of the Venetian _salons_. They wore\nthe customary dress, black gowns and lace veils falling gracefully\naround them. One was a great beauty by night, though what looked a\nsoft, cream-colored complexion then would look sallow by day. She was\nthe daughter of a Jew, married to a nominal Catholic, but an actual\natheist, and herself practised no religion whatsoever. Here she was,\nwith her beautiful, hopeless eyes fixed on the religious ceremonial\nwith a sort of weary, hungry, perplexed look, while a friend tried\nearnestly to interest her in the spirit of the ritual.\n\nDon Carlos and his family were there too, he and his brother being mere\nboys at the time, and more occupied by the care required to keep the\n_cerino_ from burning down too low than by the solemn ceremonies at\nwhich they were assisting. The daily life, if one may so call it, of\nthe Venetian Basilica has, however, more power to charm the memory than\nits hours of splendid show. We like best to think of it almost empty\nand quite silent, its high altar seldom used, and its Lady Chapel,\nChapel of the Blessed Sacrament, and altar of the Crucifix quaintly\npropped up against the corner of the pilaster, surrounded by the few\nworshippers whose faithful instincts bid them haunt the same spots\nday after day. In the early morning, you enter the seemingly deserted\nchurch. No hum of prayer is heard; hardly a human form is in sight.\nSuddenly, to the right of the high chancel, the sound of a little\nbell is heard, and, from the winding path that leads through chapels\nand pillars from the sacristy, a priest appears, vested for Mass, and\naccompanied by his server. From hidden corners rise up silent forms\nthat join his train, and follow him to the altar which he has chosen;\na devout congregation is quietly collected, and crowds round the\nrails, outside and inside, or, where there are no rails, presses up\nto the priest\u2019s very feet, and often impedes the server\u2019s movements.\nThe latter is not always very reverential, however, and his motions\nsometimes savor of abruptness; but the people are too simple-minded to\nbe shocked. When the bell should be rung, the boy ensconces himself at\nthe side of the altar, and pulls a string attached to a bell high up\nabove his head; and here, as in most Italian churches, the _Domine non\nsum dignus_ is not distinguished by a bell at all. Another feature of\nS. Mark\u2019s is the collector. At every Mass, he comes round, rattling\na box in the face of each person, and crying, in a monotonous tone,\n\u201cFor the poor, my brethren,\u201d or, \u201cFor the souls in purgatory\u201d; and, as\nthere are many collectors, and the succession of Masses at each of the\nthree or four altars is uninterrupted, it may be judged whether this\nsimple and erratic style of collecting is not rather an infliction\nthan otherwise; yet somehow it fits in with the spirit of the place.\nS. Mark\u2019s contains no pictures; that is, no masterpieces of those\nwhom the world recognizes as the kings of their art. SS. Giovanni e\nPaolo, the Jesuit church, that of the Frari, and many others, are\nrich in these treasures; but San Marco has its matchless mosaics,\ncombining Scriptural, historical, and allegorical subjects of colossal\ndimensions, with the most fanciful arabesques and purely decorative\ntracery. The colors, both in the interior, where the low arches seem\nlined with the golden glow of an everlasting sunset, and on the outer\nporch, where figures of vast size and groups of bold conception strike\nthe eye, are almost as brilliant to-day as they must have been a\nthousand years ago.\n\nIf there is no _chef-d\u2019\u0153uvre_ of modern art, there is nevertheless\nsomething more suggestive to the Catholic mind. The \u201cpicture\u201d we grew\nto love most in all Venice was no Titian or Paul Veronese, nor even a\nBellini (though the latter have the fragrance of Beato Angelico about\nthem); but a brown Byzantine Madonna, hidden behind crowns and necklets\nof heavy gold, and enthroned in a deep, receding shrine\u2014a temple of\nblazing gems under the massive, overhanging arches of S. Mark\u2019s. The\nface, as revealed in the unadorned prints of it sold all over Venice,\nis very beautiful, the features severely regular, and the expression\none of infinite majesty and calm. We know more than one of these sombre\nmasterpieces of unknown artists, which no one admires, because no one,\nas a rule, _sees_ them, but which, though overloaded with precious\nmetals to the detriment of their beauty, and branded contemptuously\nby sightseers as mere \u201cmiraculous images,\u201d are yet very pure models\nof ancient art, and most interesting relics of early Christianity.\nFor instance, there is one at Warsaw in universal veneration all over\nPoland, and whose grave, dignified, and grandly serene cast of features\nraises it as a work of religious art far above the portraits of\nsimpering maidens, buxom peasants, or gorgeous sultanas, whom the world\nhas recognized for nearly four hundred years as the type of the Mother\nof God. Russia is rich in these Byzantine pictures, and the Greek\nChurch holds them in as great honor as the Catholic.\n\nWe seem to have wandered out of Venice, somehow, in this gossip about\nunrecognized pictures; but the mention of Byzantium in reality brings\nus back to the lagoons, for it is as familiar to the Venetian as his\nown republic. Indeed, one would think that Venice had no civilization\nbefore she invaded Constantinople in 1204; for everything of any\nvalue, artistic or historical, is always traced up to this date. As\nit is impossible to create a new Venice, so it would be to build a\nnew Basilica of San Marco; the city of the Evangelist stands alone\nin history, and its cathedral alone in art. It has the rare merit of\nsuggesting nothing if not Christianity; it is more individual than S.\nPeter\u2019s, and less associated with pageants and festivals; it is no mere\nimitation or adaptation of the forms of pagan art; it suits the purple\nsky and brilliant atmosphere of the South, yet without jarring on the\nsense of the Christianity to whose use it is dedicated; and, if its\nstyle is less symbolical than the Gothic, it is at least less servile\nthan the Palladian. The chief impression it has left on us, as well as\nthe only analysis we wish to make of its beauties, is this\u2014that it is\nthe easiest church in Europe in which to pray without distraction.\n\n\n\n\n\u201cMOTHER OF GOD.\u201d\n\n\n  I KNEW, O God! that thou wert great and good,\n    Holy and just, and yet most loving, too;\n  But never did I know thy tenderness\n    Till these sweet words had pierced me through and through.\n\n  It seemed so far to lift my heart to thee,\n    I could but fear and tremble as I prayed;\n  Until thy grace made these sweet words disclose\n    The infinite act of love which thou hadst made.\n\n  Mother of God! Then Thou art one with us\u2014\n    Our Brother, Lover, Saviour, all in one;\n  And the great distance \u2018twixt our souls and thee\n    Was bridged by Mary\u2019s words, \u201cThus be it done.\u201d\n\n  Henceforth, when I would make my act of love,\n    When my full heart would lift itself to thee,\n  Should holy awe and fear weigh down my soul,\n    \u201cMother of God\u201d upon my lips shall be.\n\n\n\n\nMEMOIRS OF A GOOD FRENCH PRIEST.\n\n\nIT must not be always that men\u2019s evil manners are writ in brass, their\ngood deeds in water. The one grand, true, and pure wife of Henry\nVIII., with her strong sense of justice, commended the chronicler of\nthe virtues of her once-potent but then fallen enemy. The history of\nconquerors, which most attracts the world\u2019s admiring gaze, is but too\noften a record of crime; but, _fiat justitia_, with their crimes let\ntheir redeeming qualities, if any there be, stand forth, so that the\ngood and the evil may flow down the stream of time in history, as they\nmove in life, together.\n\nWe have recently read a work which contains in a few pages a large\nrecord of virtue and vice, of good and evil: the actors, however, were\ndifferent parties\u2014as far apart in their spheres as the spirits on the\nright and the left hand on the day of doom.\n\nThe _Memoirs of the Rt. Rev. Simon Gabriel Brut\u00e9_, with his sketches\nof scenes connected with the French Revolution, and extracts from\nhis journal by Bishop (now Archbishop) Bayley, is one of a class\nof works which is deeply interesting in its nature and striking in\nits contrasts. The glory and shame of France are strangely brought\ntogether. The culmination of the neverending contest between the church\nof Christ, on the one hand, and the world and the gates of hell, on the\nother, appeared to be reached in the French Revolution. Heaven-born\npiety and hell-born iniquity, each in its most potential form, seemed\nto meet in a death-grapple. Astonished and awe-stricken nations looked\non as spectators of the combat, as if upon that field hung the fate of\nChristianity, of revelation, of, in short, the subordination of the\ncreature to the Creator. The struggle indeed was appalling; and the\nmodern followers of that fool who said in his heart, There is no God,\noften threw up their fool\u2019s-caps, _bonnets-d\u2019\u00e2ne_, or _bonnets-rouges_\nin token of victory. But the end was not yet, as it is not yet. In\nthat struggle, as in all others for eighteen hundred years, the divine\nprophecy was vindicated, and the oracles of Satan for a time were\nsilenced, at least until the father of sin could rehabilitate them\nin other forms. The American Catholic whose memory serves him for a\ncouple of score of years, may remember to have seen at Mount S. Mary\u2019s\nCollege, or in Baltimore, a French priest, whose very physiognomy\nwould strongly rivet attention. We remember once, in early college\ndays, passing from Georgetown College, where we were acquiring the\nhumanities, to Mount S. Mary\u2019s on a holiday excursion. We had fresh in\nmind as the very ideal of a venerable priest good old Father Jerome\nDzierozynski, priest, philosopher, scholar, saint, the pastor of the\ncollege, and a model for his younger brethren aspiring to Christian\nperfection. We found his counterpart in the French priest, Father\nBrut\u00e9, at the mountain. His very presence was inspiring. The man of\nGod was plainly discernible in his calm, placid face, which spoke,\nwithout words, of holiness, of wisdom, of learning, of the subjection\nof self and the man of the flesh, of the age, to the spiritual man,\nthe pilgrim to eternity. Our personal recollections of this eminent\nman, however, go not beyond appearances and first-sight impressions. We\nare indebted to Archbishop Bayley\u2019s fascinating work for a knowledge\nof his eventful career. Born and bred in France in a model Catholic\nfamily, he witnessed in his boyhood the practical workings of the\nFrench Revolution. He had not the honor to undergo exile or martyrdom,\nbut he knew intimately many of the victims of that reign of _Satanas_;\nand his young eyes were made to ache with the lurid coruscations of the\nphilosophy of Antichrist, which swept over France as fire sweeps over a\nprairie.\n\nLosing his father early in life, his education was conducted by a\nwise and prudent mother, such as is called in Holy Writ \u201ca valiant\nwoman.\u201d He was sent to the best schools of the day in his native city\nof Rennes, and he was fortunate in having for his teachers priests\neminent for piety and learning, several of whom gave up their lives\nfor the faith. For a short time he worked as a practical printer. \u201cIn\n1793-4,\u201d he writes of himself, \u201cduring the height of \u2018The Terror,\u2019\nmy mother made me work in the printing-office to save me from being\nenrolled in a regiment of children named \u2018The Hope of the Country\u2019;\nand a hopeful set they were.\u201d A regiment of boys was formed, who acted\nas so many young demons. \u201cMy mother was much pressed to allow me to\njoin them, and was terribly alarmed on this account. I remained in the\nprinting-office nearly a year, and became a pretty good compositor.\u201d\nTo the honor of the craft, we may add that his widowed mother had a\nprinting establishment under her own direction, probably derived from\nher first husband, Francis Vatar, printer to the king and parliament at\nRennes, who prided himself on his hereditary art, his ancestors having\nbeen printers for many generations.\n\nAfter this interruption to his studies, he resumed them, and in due\ntime began the study of medicine. His fondness for the profession, his\ntalents, his industry, gave sure indications of eminent success. In\n1799, at twenty years of age, he entered the Medical School at Paris.\n\u201cAt the time this occurred,\u201d he says, \u201cI was entirely wrapt up in my\nmedical studies, and preparing for the prize.\u201d This indeed he obtained.\nHe graduated with the highest honors. There were at that time eleven\nhundred students attending the course; out of these, one hundred\nand twenty were chosen by _concursus_ as the best; and among this\nnumber M. Brut\u00e9 received the first prize after another examination.\nAn official appointment immediately followed this youthful triumph.\nBut his thoughts were now turned to another field of labor, and to\nthat vocation alone more worthy than medicine of his high endowments.\nHe determined to study for the church. \u201cHe was not led to abandon a\nprofession to which he had devoted so many years of assiduous study,\nand which opened its most brilliant prospects before him,\u201d as Dr.\nMcCaffrey remarks, \u201cfrom any feelings of disgust. He always honored it\nas one of the noblest to which a highly gifted and philanthropic man\ncan devote himself. Delightful as his conversation was to all, and to\nmen of science in particular, it was peculiarly so to the student or\nto the practitioner or professor of medicine. He turned from it only\nbecause he had higher and more important objects in view. His eleven\nhundred classmates in medicine told him that it was easy to find\nphysicians for the body, but the Revolution had made it more difficult\nto find physicians for the souls of men. The guillotine and prisons and\nprivations of exile had spared but a comparatively small number of the\nformer clergy, and of these many were occupied in foreign missions.\nDreadful as had been the ravages of infidelity and impiety, and the\nalmost entire privation of all spiritual succor, an immense number of\nthe French people still remained faithful to their religion, and a new\nsupply of Levites, to fill the places of those who had perished, was\ncalled for on every side.\u201d\n\nThe medical student who had gone through the Parisian curriculum with\na pure heart and a sinless soul proved thereby his title to join the\nchoicest body of Levites. He not only had gone through the course\nwith virginal purity, but he had already made a fight for the faith\namidst its most potent enemies. If he resembled Aloysius at Rennes, he\nshowed the spirit of Bayard at Paris. \u201cNot satisfied with professing\nand openly practising his religion, he entered into a combination\nwith several of his fellow-students, particularly those from his own\nprovince, boldly to oppose the false principles to which they were\nobliged to listen. They chose such subjects for their theses before\nthe class as to enable them to avow their belief in revelation, and to\ndefend its truth. One of the beneficial effects which followed from\nthis course, was that the attention of the government was called to it.\nBonaparte, then First Consul, was laboring to restore Christianity in\nFrance, as the necessary means of reorganizing society; and the infidel\nprofessors were made to confine their teaching to its proper limits.\u201d\n\nIt would be well if infidel or atheistical professors at the present\nday could be restrained to their respective courses of instruction.\nSome of them seem to think it incumbent on them to proclaim, _ex\ncathedr\u00e2_, their irreligious or atheistical convictions. Such men\nare entirely unfit for their occupations, no matter what talents or\nlearning they may possess, and they ought to be silenced by authority.\nThis may be considered illiberal by some, but let them make a little\nchange in the order, and suppose a Catholic professor of anatomy to\ngive a daily discourse to his pupils on the infallibility of the Pope\nbefore mixed classes of Catholics and Protestants, Jews and infidels:\nwould such teachings, we ask, be greeted with liberal approbation?\nWe think not. Then the infidel professor cannot expect a Christian\npublic to consent to his teachings, beyond his proper course. This is a\npractical question of the day, and all honest men should demand in the\nteaching of medicine, or of any science or sciences, that the teachers\nshould confine themselves to demonstrative and demonstrable facts.\nIt is the last degree of folly or of impudence to attempt to prove\nanything of the relations of the soul to the body by the aid of scalpel\nor microscope. Professors in the Parisian schools still claim the right\nto teach covert or overt atheism, and they deem interference nothing\nless than persecution. They are philosophers, and claim free thought.\nBut their opponents say properly (and this matter has been before the\nFrench Senate) that it is not the thought of the professors which is\nthe matter in dispute, but their officious _teachings_. If they are\nfree to think what they please, says an eminent medical writer, M.\nGarnier, they are not therefore free to profess or to teach all that\nthey think. Animism, spiritism, materialism, are equally intractable\nto science. In these matters science can prove nothing; the rights of\nscience, then, are neither compromised nor sacrificed by keeping it\nwithin the limits defined by its very nature.\n\nAll parents and guardians of youth, whatever their faith, or want of\nit, should protest against professors of medicine making use of their\nchairs to inculcate upon their pupils that the soul is subordinate to\nthe body, the immortal to the mortal part of man. These are matters\nwhich are not now, never were, and never will be under the dominion of\nhuman wisdom or learning.\n\nWe will now follow Dr. Brut\u00e9 rapidly in his career as physician in the\nhigher order, that is, for the souls of men. He made his studies in\ndivinity with the intense earnestness of his nature. \u201cTheology was a\nscience for which his mind was admirably fitted. He loved his religion,\nand it evidently became his delight thoroughly to explore the very\nfoundations of it.\u201d He was ordained priest in 1808, and was for a short\ntime professor of theology in his native city. In 1810, he came to the\nUnited States, and began that active career in Baltimore and at Mount\nS. Mary\u2019s College which made him so favorably known to the clergy and\npeople of this country. \u201cIf Mount S. Mary\u2019s, in addition to all the\nother benefits it has bestowed upon Catholicity in this country, has\nbeen in a remarkable degree the nursery of an intelligent, active,\nzealous priesthood, exactly such as was needed to supply the wants\nof the church in this country, every one at all acquainted with the\nhistory of that institution will allow that the true ecclesiastical\nspirit was stamped upon it by Bishop Brut\u00e9. His humility, piety, and\nlearning made him a model of the Christian priest; and the impression\nof his virtues made upon both ecclesiastical and lay students surpassed\nall oral instruction. The Catholic religion alone can produce such men,\nand hence their example confirms the faith and elevates the character\nof all who come in contact with them. The name of Bishop Brut\u00e9 has\nbeen, and ever will be, associated with that of Bishop Dubois as common\nbenefactors to the infant church in this country.\u201d\n\nThe church in America has obligations to a considerable body of\nFrench priests, driven from their own country for the most part\nby the ruthless madmen who for a season ruled fair France, which\nobligations can never be repaid and have scarcely been recognized.\nEven American Catholics often speak of Lafayette and his followers as\nthe only Frenchmen entitled to our gratitude, forgetting entirely the\nvaliant soldiers of the cross from the same country who Christianized\nour savages in the wilderness, or who astonished our Protestant\ncivilization with their learning, their talents, and their virtues.\nSpeaking of Bishop Cheverus, first Catholic Bishop of Boston, \u201cwhich\nof us,\u201d says Dr. W. E. Channing, the most eminent Protestant minister\nof his time in that city\u2014\u201cwhich of us would like to have our lives\ncompared with his?\u201d This candid and generous admission might have\napplied to others as well as to the almost peerless Cheverus, but none\ncould have deserved it more. How truly is the blood of the martyrs\nthe seed of the church!\u2014including in the martyrs all who suffer in\nperson or property for Christ. The French Revolution sent to our shores\nas fine a body of priests as the world ever saw\u2014learned, pious,\naccomplished, refined, and highly cultured in every sense, they left\nan ineffaceable impression upon their successors in the priesthood in\nthis country. In the order of God\u2019s providence, persecution, in fact,\nhas given the greatest impetus to Catholicity in America. The perpetual\npersecution of the Irish on account of their religion, the recent\nor actual persecutions by Garibaldi, Victor Emanuel, and Bismarck,\nall give laborers to this vineyard, where they are so much needed,\nand where they are doing a world of good a century in advance of an\nadequate supply of native priests.\n\nIn 1834, Dr. Brut\u00e9 was consecrated as Bishop of Vincennes; in 1839,\nworn out with much and faithful service, his pure spirit took its\ndeparture. In his poor diocese, he had everything to construct, and\neverybody to instruct, even some Indian tribes, who received him with\ngreat joy as a \u201cchief of the black robes,\u201d a priest of \u201cthe true\nprayer.\u201d He had no sinecure dignity. \u201cAt home he was at once the\nbishop, the pastor of the congregation, the professor of theology for\nhis seminary, and a teacher for one of his academies.\u201d These give\na small idea of his labors. When the king of terrors (to most men)\ncame, he found the bishop at his post, on duty, like the faithful\nRoman sentinel at the gates of Pompeii. But there were no terrors for\nhim. \u201cOn the morning of the day before his death, he remarked to the\nclergyman who attended him with unwearied solicitude and affection:\n\u2018My dear child, I have the whole day yet to stay with you; to-morrow\nwith God!\u2019 To another pious friend he used these simple but expressive\nwords: \u2018I am going home!\u2019\u201d And when his pure soul was disengaging\nitself, as it were, from the body, having received all the last rites\nof the church, he directed the prayers for the departing to be said,\nwhich he answered devoutly and fervently to the last; and then he\nentered upon that eternal life which he had always been contemplating,\nand for which his whole career had been one long preparation.\n\nWe would wish, if space permitted, to give selections from some of\nthe good bishop\u2019s \u201cBrief Notes\u201d of his recollections connected with\nthe persecutions in France in 1793 and the following years, for they\nshow in their simple details the striking contrasts between the lives\nand deaths of the children of Christ and the children of Antichrist,\namong the French people of that day. Never before in the history of the\nchurch, or in the history of humanity, did virtue and vice, face to\nface, reach loftier heights or deeper depths.\n\nThe aim of the French rulers was to extinguish Christianity. The \u201cage\nof reason\u201d had arrived, and its advanced fautors determined that the\nworld should recognize it. But the priests stood in the way, and,\nby some strange mischance, all the honest and meritorious people of\nthe land made common cause with the priests. To bring these people\nto a just appreciation of reason, the churches were plundered and\ndismantled, and turned into temples of reason or barracks and stables,\nand, if possible, viler uses. To take God\u2019s house from him was to\ndeprive him of a dwelling-place in France, and the example of France\nwould be followed everywhere, so that God should be banished from\nthe earth of his own creation. But the priests\u2014the unreasonable,\nintractable priests\u2014instead of adopting the new lights, would adhere\nto the doctrines and traditions of past ages. When the churches were\nclosed, they would worship God by stealth, with their followers, in\nprivate houses, in the fields, in the woods, offering their pure\nand unbloody sacrifice on every hill and in every dale and valley\nof France. To correct this, their existence, and that of those\nwho harbored them, was demanded in bloody sacrifice. \u201cDuring the\nprogress of the persecution,\u201d says Bishop Brut\u00e9, \u201cthe greater number\nof the priests of the diocese had been either guillotined or shot,\nor transported to the penal colonies. The more aged and infirm were\nimprisoned in the Castle of St. Michael. Of the few left in deep\nconcealment, some were almost daily discovered, and, according to the\n_law_, led with those who had harbored them to the guillotine within\ntwenty-four hours.\u201d Young Brut\u00e9 often followed the accused to the\ncriminal court, and listened with palpitating heart to the mock trials\nof priests and people. His instances are deeply touching. The very\n_capitula_ arrest attention: as \u201cTrial of the priest and the three\nsisters of La Chapelle S. Aubert, Diocese of Rennes.\u201d The priest, M.\nRaoul, was summarily convicted and sentenced; he submitted without a\nmurmur, but attempted to offer a plea for the sisters, who sheltered\nhim, when he was immediately silenced. The ladies were then put upon\ntrial, and convicted and sentenced also. One of them had been a nun,\nand, driven from her convent home, had returned to her sister\u2019s house.\nShe was a woman of spirit, and when under the sentence of death she\nhad a word to say to the court and the spectators. \u201cWhen the sentence\nhad been pronounced, the nun could not restrain her feelings of\nindignation. She rose from her seat, snatched from her cap the national\ncockade, which even the women were obliged to wear during those days\nof national delusion, and, trampling it under her feet, she addressed\nalternately the judges and the people with two or three sentences of\nvehement reproach: \u2018Barbarous people,\u2019 she exclaimed, \u2018amongst what\nsavage nations has hospitality ever been made a crime punishable with\ndeath?\u2019 I cannot now call to mind her other expressions, except that\nshe appealed to the higher tribunal of God, and denounced his judgment\nagainst them.... The same day these four victims were immolated upon\nthe fatal guillotine. They were taken, I think, as was often the case,\nfrom the tribunal to the scaffold, which remained permanently erected\nunder the windows.\u201d \u201cA priest and peasant, bound together, were led to\nthe \u2018Fusilade\u2019 singing the service for the dead.\u201d One morning early,\nyoung Brut\u00e9 was startled from his studies by the notes of the _Libera\nme, Domine_, from the Burial Service of the church, sung by some one\nin the streets. \u201cI understood too well what it all meant, and ran to\nthe door to go out and follow them, agitated and partially frightened\nby the usual terror which rested on my heart, but at the same time\nanimated by the song of death, for it was the priest who was thus\nsinging his own _Libera_, and the poor peasant stepped along quickly\nby his side, looking, as may be supposed, very serious, but without\nthe least appearance of fear. The impression on my mind is that the\nsoldiers, who generally followed their prisoners with jokes and abuse,\naccompanied these two in silence.\u201d\n\nPriests and peasants and nobles were victims to the impious rage of\nthose days, and even women and children. It is appalling to read the\nsummary account of \u201cchildren shot and children drowned; women shot and\nwomen drowned; priests shot and priests drowned; nobles drowned, and\nartisans drowned, besides the hosts who were guillotined or sent into\nexile.\u201d\n\nWe cannot draw further from the pages of this most interesting book,\nbut the reader may do so at his leisure. We have thought sometimes in\nreading it that Victor Emanuel and Bismarck might find its perusal\nprofitable. While writing this, we see by the papers that the Upper\nHouse of the Prussian diet has passed a bill authorizing a complete\ncontrol of the church\u2014that is, of all religious matter\u2014by the state\ngovernment. In other words, the church must be the king\u2019s creature, or\nmust perish. We shall see. There is traditional policy in this move. In\none of Frederic the Great\u2019s letters to Voltaire, he expresses a wish to\nbreak up the Catholic Church first, for then, he adds, the Protestant\nchurches will be very easily disposed of.\n\nThe modern persecutors might see, if they were not blind, that after\nall the follies and crimes and slaughters of the French Revolution\u2014and\nsurely they can bring nothing worse or more potent than this\u2014the\nchurch has risen again in France in her glory, and that hers is at this\nday the only one great conservative influence in France, as everywhere\nelse in Christendom. Surely it is plain that, though often doomed to\ndeath, she is fated not to die. But how strange the infatuation of\nprinces or people who would wish to blot out Christianity from the face\nof the earth, or to make it a mere servile tool of tyrants! To blot it\nout! and what then the history of man? Some philosophic inquirer has\nsuggested the extinction of the sun, and then on this now bright planet\nof ours universal darkness, intense cold, the congelation of all the\nwaters, the death of all vegetable life, the death of all animal life,\nand of the last strong man in the midst of an infinitude of horrors!\n\nEven so in the moral world if the church of Christ, by the malice of\nman, could be extinguished: darkness, crime, and death, death temporal\nand eternal, would be poor lost man\u2019s only inheritance. But, thanks be\nto God, we know that the bark of Peter will survive all tempests in the\nfuture as in the past, and that she will float over the stormy sea of\ntime in safety to the consummation of ages; for the divine assistance\nis promised to her for ever.\n\nIn conclusion, we beg leave to express the hope that Archbishop\nBayley will give to the world a new and enlarged edition of Bishop\nBrut\u00e9\u2019s life, as his materials are by no means exhausted. It will be\nno detriment to Mr. Clarke\u2019s excellent work to give to many of the\ndeceased prelates, individually, much more extended biographies than\nthat gentleman could possibly give in his instructive pages. And\nfinally, we may express a hope that, when Lady Herbert edits a new\nedition, she will not forget to give due credit to the distinguished\nauthor whose labors she has in some sense so fully appreciated.[194]\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n LECTURES AND SERMONS. By the Very Rev. Thomas N. Burke, O.P.\n New York: P. M. Haverty. 1873.\n\nThis, the second volume, containing thirty-two of F. Burke\u2019s\nmagnificent discourses, has just been issued by his authorized\npublisher, Mr. Haverty. In neither matter nor form is it inferior to\nthe splendid volume published a year ago. It contains lectures on\nmost of the important questions of the day, and nowhere better than\nin these lectures may be found a solution to the great problems that\nthe moral and social condition of our age and country present. The\nfundamental principles of religion, order, and law treasured up in\nthe _Summa_ of S. Thomas, F. Burke has thoroughly mastered and made\nhis own; and, armed with these, he comes forth in the might of his\neloquence, prepared to offer a remedy for every disease, intellectual\nand moral, of the XIXth century. The principles which he advocates and\nhas proclaimed on the house-tops, from the Merrimac to the Mississippi,\nare just those by which modern society must be saved, if saved at\nall. His mission has been called a providential one with reference to\nthe Irish in this country; but we believe it to be a providential one\nwith reference to the American people at large. Never before have the\ngenuine principles of human action been so publicly and brilliantly\ntaught in our land; and the good seed, sown broadcast as it has been,\ncannot but take root and produce fruit in due season.\n\nEven now the conversions to our holy religion, wrought through the\ninstrumentality of F. Burke\u2019s preaching, are many and widespread. But\nhow great and palpable the good he has done amongst his own people!\nHe has aroused their love for faith and fatherland to enthusiasm; he\nhas made them to realize the important influence they are to exert\non this continent; he has taught them to feel their dignity; he has\ntold them what is required of them as citizens of the republic; he has\npointed out their dangers, and suggested remedies for their disorders.\nHis constant aim has been to instil into the minds of his countrymen\nevery sentiment of religion, patriotism, and honor that could elevate\nand ennoble a generous race. Since the days of O\u2019Connell, no one man\nhas done so much for the Irish people, and none has received so much\nof their gratitude and confidence. It is but a short time ago that we\nheard a poor fellow say he had resolved \u201cnever to get drunk again,\nlest he might disgrace a country that could produce such a man as F.\nTom Burke\u201d\u2014a noble sentiment truly, and one that speaks volumes for\nthe man who could inspire it. We seem to be describing the work of a\nlifetime, and surely what we have said and had reason to say would make\na long lifetime illustrious. Yet in very truth are we but enumerating\nthe labors of a few months. What may not critics be able to write in\nthe future, should F. Burke return to us, and resume his glorious work?\n\n THE IRISH RACE IN THE PAST AND IN THE PRESENT. By Rev. Aug.\n J. Thebaud, S.J. New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1873.\n\nF. Thebaud has written us a philosophy of Irish history. He has\nsought out the characteristics of the Celtic race, and has, we think,\ndiscovered them and successfully traced them down from the earliest to\nthe latest annals of that grand old people. He has read Irish history,\nand reflected on it, and his views, in relation to the Ireland of the\npast at least, are correct. We are glad that one not an Irishman has\nwritten this book; for when an Irishman speaks of his country\u2019s bygone\nglories, he is pretty generally accused of exaggeration, and the world\nrefuses to be interested in the details of an antique history which it\nsupposes to be in great part the creation of national pride. We have\nalways regretted that Montalembert did not write a history of Ireland,\nas he once intended to do, and we have never quite forgiven Victor\nCousin for the part he took in dissuading the count from carrying out\nthis the cherished scheme of his youth. Had the brilliant author of\n_The Monks of the West_ compiled the annals of Ireland, the story of\nErin\u2019s ancient greatness and civilization would now have its fitting\nplace in the classic lore of Europe. F. Thebaud\u2019s treatment of early\nIrish history is very satisfactory; he has a real love and admiration\nfor that land\u2014\n\n  \u201cHistory\u2019s sad wonder, whom all lands save one\n  Gaze on through tears, and name with gentler tone.\u201d\n\nChristian Ireland in its golden age is particularly dear to him, and he\ndelights in describing the glories of that Erin, then\n\n  \u201cLamp of the north when half the world was night,\n  Now England\u2019s darkness \u2018mid her noon of light.\u201d\n\nIn dealing with the events of this period, we think the learned author\nmore happy than in his treatment of modern Irish history, though we are\nnot at all disposed to disagree to any great extent with his views of\nmartyred Ireland\u2019s wrongs and their needs. We, too, believe that\n\n              ... \u201cEre long\n  Peace Justice-built the Isle shall cheer.\u201d\n\nFrom what he says of the present condition of things in that\nmisgoverned country, however, we do think he has not consulted the most\nreliable authorities on all points; his account of the ignorance and\ndestitution of the poorer classes is certainly somewhat exaggerated.\nThis is about the only thing we find to criticise in a book which is\nmanifestly a labor of love, and executed with an ardor and enthusiasm\nthat love alone can enlist. F. Thebaud\u2019s work is a valuable and highly\nimportant contribution to Irish history. To our Irish fellow-citizens\nit commends itself. To our American and non-Catholic readers who want\nto form correct views of Ireland and its people, we commend it.\n\n\n THE LIMERICK VETERAN; OR, THE FOSTER SISTERS. By Agnes M.\n Stewart. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1873.\n\nThis is a historical romance, and a very good one of its kind.\nThroughout its two hundred and fifty pages thrilling facts and pleasing\nfiction are well and judiciously blended. The style is really good,\nand the name of Agnes Stewart is sufficient warrant that the tone is\nhigh and unexceptionable. If there were anything in a name, we might be\ndisposed to criticise it in this particular; for, in very truth, the\nconnection between the title and the tale that hangs thereon is slight.\nThe story opens in Scotland, and the bonny Highlands are kept pretty\nwell in view throughout, though the scene shifts to England, France,\nand Germany, and the curtain falls on a Christmas scene by the frozen\nSt. Lawrence. In a novel such as this we do believe; it amuses, it\ninstructs; from such a book much valuable history may be learned in a\npleasing way.\n\nThe publishers have done Miss Stewart justice by giving to the public\nher graceful story in an appropriate form.\n\n SINS OF THE TONGUE. By Monseigneur Landroit, Abp. of Rheims.\n Boston: P. Donahoe. 1873.\n\nMgr. Landroit is already favorably known to the English reader by\na series of discourses for the use of women living in the world,\ntranslated under the title of _The Valiant Woman_. The present work not\nonly treats of the subject indicated by the title, but also of \u201cEnvy\nand Jealousy,\u201d \u201cRash Judgments,\u201d \u201cChristian Patience,\u201d and \u201cGrace\u201d;\nand is intended for those who would naturally derive greater spiritual\nadvantage from thoughtful reading than from formal meditation.\n\nFrom the unrestful condition of things in this age and country it\nprobably comes that there are fewer vocations to a contemplative life,\nand less inclination to habits of systematic contemplation, than in\nolder and more settled communities. Hence, works like the present are\nperhaps more appropriate to those not consecrated to the religious\nstate than many of the ordinary books of meditation. We therefore\nwelcome it as we do all judicious efforts to assist persons in the\nworld to perform the duties to which they may be called, and to resist\nthe temptations by which they may be assailed.\n\nThe Marthas are likely always to outnumber the Marys, and should have\nevery assistance at the hands of those capable of leading them in the\npath of holiness. The church in this and similar ways is ever adapting\nits aids to the varying circumstances by which her children may be\nsurrounded.\n\n OUT OF SWEET SOLITUDE. By Eleanor C. Donnelly. Philadelphia:\n Lippincott & Co. 1873.\n\nThis modest little volume, a \u201cfirst book,\u201d gives us confidence that\nthe authoress will fill a useful place in the Catholic literature of\nAmerica. We say a useful place, for poetry like hers is much in demand\nin our Catholic homes.\n\nThe three divisions of the volume\u2014\u201cSacred Legends,\u201d \u201cPoems of the\nCivil War,\u201d and \u201cMiscellaneous Poems\u201d\u2014present a pleasing variety,\nboth of matter and of style. Some of her lyrics are more accurate than\nothers; and some of her descriptions would be stronger with fewer\nepithets. But her verse is, for the most part, as smooth as simple.\nAnd while no one can charge her with affectation, she is certainly not\nlacking in originality.\n\nThere is but a single line on which we shall make a stricture. It\noccurs in a poem called \u201cThe Skeleton at the Feast\u201d: the sixth line of\nthe fifth stanza, p. 77. She speaks of\n\n                      \u201cThe flame\n  Lit for the damned _from all eternity_.\u201d\n\nNow, God did not create \u201cfrom eternity\u201d; still less are any of his\ncreatures damned \u201cfrom eternity.\u201d We therefore pronounce this line a\nslip of the pen, and beg that it may be altered in the next edition.\n\nIn conclusion, we thankfully welcome the authoress into the number\nof our Catholic poetesses, and hope that ere long she will be again\ntempted to come to us \u201cout of sweet solitude.\u201d\n\nOLD NEW ENGLAND TRAITS. Edited by George Lunt. New York:\nPublished by Hurd & Houghton. Cambridge: The Riverside Press. 1873.\n\nAny one acquainted with the ancient city of Newburyport will have a\nspecial interest in the reminiscences which this very readable book\ncontains. To those who are not, it will give a very perfect idea of the\nNew England of the past, which is even now pretty well preserved in\nthese old seaport towns of Massachusetts. There is not a dry or tedious\npage in it from beginning to end, and, both in matter and style, it is\njust the kind of a book for any time of year, but particularly for the\nsummer. At the end, there are a number of ghost stories. Ghosts seem to\nthrive well in Newburyport, judging from recent developments as well as\nthese more ancient ones, and there can be no doubt that the reputation\nof Essex County for the preternatural is really very well founded.\n\n\nBOOKS AND PAMPHLETS RECEIVED.\n\n From W. G. SIMONS & CO., Richmond: Pastoral Letter on\n Christian Education. By the Rt. Rev. James Gibbons, D.D. 8vo, paper,\n pp. 19.\n\n From P. O\u2019SHEA, New York: Essays on Various Subjects. By H.\n E. Card. Wiseman. Vol. IV. 12mo, pp. 300.\n\n From LEE & SHEPARD, Boston: The Year. By D. C. Colesworthy.\n 12mo, pp. 120.\n\n From E. O\u2019KEEFE, New York: Third Annual Report of St.\n Vincent\u2019s Home for Boys, 10 Vine Street, Brooklyn. Paper, 24mo, pp. 16.\n\n From D. APPLETON & CO., New York: Insanity in its Relation to\n Crime. By W. A. Hammond, M.D. 8vo, pp. 77.\u2014A Review of Prof. Reese\u2019s\n Review of the Wharton Trial. By W. E. A. Aikin, M.D., LL.D. Paper,\n 8vo, pp. 20.\n\n From the AUTHOR: Religion in the University: Being a Review\n of the Subject as agitated in the Legislature of Michigan. By S. B.\n McCracken. Paper, 8vo, pp. 19.\n\n From the GENERAL THEOLOGICAL LIBRARY, Boston: Eleventh Annual\n Report, April 21, 1873. Paper, 8vo, pp. 44.\n\n From HOLT & WILLIAMS, New York: Babolain. By Gustave Droz.\n 18mo, pp. 306.\n\n From BURNS & OATES, London: The Question of Anglican\n Ordinations Discussed. By E. E. Estcourt, M.A., F.S.A. With Original\n Documents and Fac-similes. 8vo, pp. xvi.-381.-cxvi.\u2014A Theory of the\n Fine Arts. By S. M. Lanigan, A.B., T.C.D. 12mo, pp. xiii.-194.\u2014The\n Prophet of Carmel. By Rev. C. B. Garside, M.A. 18mo, pp. xiii.-348.\n\n From T. & T. CLARK, Edinburgh: The Works of S. Aurelius\n Augustine\u2014Vol. VII., On the Trinity. Vol. VIII., The Sermon on the\n Mount, and The Harmony of the Evangelists.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nCATHOLIC WORLD.\n\nVOL. XVII., No. 102.\u2014SEPTEMBER, 1873.\n\nEntered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.\nI. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at\nWashington, D. C.\n\n\n\n\nSHEA\u2019S CHARLEVOIX.\n\n\nWHEN the history of American Catholic literature comes to be written,\nthe name of John Gilmary Shea will hold one of the most honorable\nplaces in the record. So much rough work has been needed to prepare the\nground for the American church, so much polemical discussion has been\ncalled forth by our peculiar position in the midst of a hostile and\nprejudiced community, so many problems of philosophy and social science\nhave pressed upon us for consideration, and the demand for books of\neducation and devotion has been so urgent, that few of our writers have\nfound occasion to apply themselves to strictly literary and historical\nstudies or to those branches of criticism which are included in the\ndepartment of polite letters. And yet how richly this neglected field\nof research would repay the labors of the Catholic investigator! The\nearly history of many parts of the North American continent is only a\nchapter in the history of the Catholic Church. The most picturesque\ncharacters in the early American annals are the Catholic voyagers\nof France and Spain, the settlers of Canada, and Florida, and the\nPacific coast, and the missionaries who followed them across the ocean,\nand pushed forward in advance of them into the savage wilderness.\nHow tame and mean appear the quarrels of the Plymouth settlers with\nhostile Indians, and rival adventurers, and preaching sectaries, and\nbewitched old women, after one has read of the heroism of a Jogues\nand a Breb\u0153uf, and the romantic travels of the discoverer of the\nMississippi. The settlement of Virginia was a prosaic and commonplace\naffair beside the settlement of Canada. The monks who accompanied the\narmies of the Spanish conquerors passed through experiences of the\nmost thrilling kind, whose story has been only imperfectly outlined in\nthe glowing pages of Prescott. Within the limits of the present Union,\nthe missionary has been the chief actor in many an extraordinary\nscene of dramatic interest, and the hero of many a daring enterprise.\nSimple-minded F. Mark traversing the desert in search of the seven\nmythical cities of New Mexico; the gentle Marquette guiding his canoe\ndown the great river of the West, and breathing his last prayer on the\nshores of the mighty lake; Hennepin, pattern of grotesque mendacity; La\nSalle, model of a magnanimous commander and a daring explorer\u2014such are\namong the infinite variety of figures in the early Catholic history of\nour country. Its later annals are not inferior in interest to the more\nremote. Even yet the task of the pioneer is not complete, and startling\nincidents are still common in the chronicles of missionary adventure.\n\nNo man has done more than Mr. Shea to preserve the record of all\nthese events and all these personages. For more than twenty years, he\nhas devoted himself to the study of the old materials for American\nCatholic history. He gave to the world the first authentic and complete\nnarrative of the discovery and exploration of the Mississippi, and\nbrought to light the manuscript narratives of the actors in that most\nimportant and striking achievement. He prepared the only connected\naccount of the various Catholic missions among the Indian tribes, from\nthe discovery of the country to the present day. He was one of the\njoint authors of the only general history of the American church. To\nthese works, and a large number of books of a miscellaneous character,\nshort histories, religious biographies, statistical publications, etc.,\nhe has recently added the result of patient and learned research into\nthe Indian languages; he has recovered the grammars and vocabularies\nprepared by the old missionaries; he has assisted in the preparation\nof various works on the Indians printed at the cost of the United\nStates government; he has edited an extraordinary variety of historical\ncollections and monographs; and, finally, he has prepared for the press\na number of hitherto unpublished narratives, memoirs, and relations in\nconnection with the early French and Spanish settlements. The value of\nthese publications can hardly be overstated. The care and judgment of\nthe editor have been universally recognized by the highest authorities;\nand though Mr. Shea can hardly expect an adequate pecuniary recompense\nfor his time, his labor, and his outlay, he has been rewarded in a most\nflattering way by the respect and gratitude of historical students,\nCatholic and Protestant alike.\n\nHis latest work is one of the most laborious of his life, and one of\nthe most splendid in its results. It is a translation, with notes, of\nthe _History and General Description of New France_, from the French of\nthe Rev. P. F. X. de Charlevoix, S.J. The first of the six sumptuous\nvolumes of this elegant work appeared from the author\u2019s own press in\nthis city in 1866, and the last was issued at the close of 1872. As we\nshall see further on, Mr. Shea has expended upon the \u201ctranslation and\nnotes\u201d an extraordinary amount of pains of which the modest title-page\naffords no hint; but the book was well worth the trouble. No history\nof America can be written without a constant reference to the labors\nof F. Charlevoix. He is our best and sometimes our only authority for\nthe transactions in all the French North American settlements. Of\nmany of the scenes that he describes he was an eye-witness. He was a\ndiligent and conscientious student; he had access to important and\nlittle-known sources of information; he sympathized with the sentiment\nof the early French explorers, and caught as by instinct the spirit of\nthose curious expeditions wherein the priest and the peddler marched\nside by side through the wilderness for the glory of God and of France,\nand the spread simultaneously of the Gospel and the fur-trade. Born in\nthe north of France in 1682, Charlevoix entered the Society of Jesus,\nand was sent to the Canada mission when he was about twenty-three years\nold. He spent four years in America, returning to France in 1709, and\nteaching philosophy for some time in various colleges of his society.\nEleven years later, the king sent him to make a tour among the French\nsettlements of the New World, and a curious account of this adventurous\njourney is preserved in his _Journal of a Voyage to North America_,\na translation of which was published in London in 1761. He landed at\nQuebec in October, 1720, visited Montreal and other settlements on the\nSt. Lawrence, and the following spring set out on his remarkable canoe\nvoyage to the Gulf of Mexico. This took him through Lakes Ontario,\nErie, Huron, and Michigan. On the 6th of August, 1721, he entered the\nSt. Joseph River, at the southern end of Lake Michigan. Thence by a\ntedious portage he reached the head-waters of the Kankakee. Towards\nthe end of September, he found himself on the Illinois, and on the 9th\nof October his frail bark floated on the waters of the Mississippi.\nStopping at various posts along the bank, he was nearly three months\nin reaching New Orleans, whence he embarked in April, 1722, for Santo\nDomingo. Wrecked on one of the Florida keys, he made his way back to\nLouisiana in an open boat, and at the end of June took ship again\nat Biloxi. After touching at Havana, and narrowly escaping another\ndisaster, he made Cape Fran\u00e7ois, in Santo Domingo, and there found a\nmerchant ship, which took him home.\n\nBefore starting on this extensive and arduous tour, he had begun a\nseries of histories of all the countries unknown to Europeans previous\nto the XIVth century, giving to that tolerably comprehensive portion of\nthe universe the general name of the New World. The first instalment of\nhis task, a _History and Description of Japan_, was printed at Rouen in\nthree volumes in 1715. He had no expectation of completing the whole\nseries of proposed histories. That was an enterprise beyond the powers\nof one man; but \u201cthe same may be said of this,\u201d he remarked, \u201cas of\nthe discovery of America: the worst was done when it was once begun;\nthere is, then, every reason to believe that it will be continued after\nme, and that, if I have the advantage of suggesting the idea, those\nwho succeed me will have the glory of perfecting it.\u201d The second fruit\nof the scheme was the _History of Santo Domingo_, which appeared at\nParis in two quarto volumes, in 1730. The third was the _History of\nNew France_, in three quarto volumes, in 1744; and there was a fourth\nbook, a _History of Paraguay_, in three quarto volumes, in 1756. F.\nCharlevoix died in 1761, having been for more than twenty years one of\nthe principal workers on the famous _Journal de Tr\u00e9voux_.\n\nOf the four works embraced in his uncompleted series, three are\nlittle known on this side of the ocean, except in the libraries of\nthe curious. The _History of New France_, however, has long enjoyed\nan American celebrity, through the frequent references to it in the\npages of modern historians; and Mr. Shea is not unreasonably surprised\nthat it should so long have gone untranslated. Fidelity is by no means\nits only merit. It is well planned, and written with a carefulness,\nsimplicity, and good judgment which give it a very respectable, if\nnot a very high, literary character. Its style is not remarkable for\neloquence, but it is chaste and direct. It is never ambitious, but\nit is always agreeable; rarely picturesque, but never dry. Prefixing\nto his work a comprehensive chronology of European explorations and\nsettlements in the New World (taking that phrase in his own extended\napplication), and an excellent bibliographical account of the numerous\nauthors whom he has consulted, he begins his narrative proper with the\nvoyages of Cortereal and Verazzano to Newfoundland, between 1500 and\n1525. It is with the expedition of Jacques Cartier, however, in 1534,\nthat the story of the French settlements in North America properly\ncommences. Cartier ascended the St. Lawrence, visited the site of\nMontreal, and planned a town there, though he did not succeed in making\na permanent establishment. There is a curious illustration in this part\nof the narrative of the simplicity which gives F. Charlevoix\u2019s book\nsuch a peculiar charm. Misled by an unfaithful abridgment of Cartier\u2019s\nnarrative, the good father gently rebukes the traveller for certain\nmarvellous tales which he is unjustly accused of bearing back to\nFrance: but there is one strange story to which the reverend historian\nis evidently more than half disposed to attach credit. An Indian named\nDonnacona is reported to have told Cartier that in a remote part of\nthe land \u201cwere men who had but one leg and thigh, with a very large\nfoot, two hands on the same arm, the waist extremely square, the breast\nand head flat, and a very small mouth; that still further on he had\nseen pigmies, and a sea the water of which was fresh. In fine, that,\nascending the Saguenay, you reach a country where there are men dressed\nlike us, who live in cities, and have much gold, rubies, and copper.\u201d\nNow, by ascending the Saguenay, Charlevoix conjectures, and turning\nwest, an Indian might reach Lake Assiniboin, and thence penetrate to\nNew Mexico, where the Spaniards had begun to settle\u2014a conjecture\nwhich certainly betrays a rather loose idea of American geography.\nThe pigmies he supposes to be the Esquimaux. But of the men with one\nleg, he remarks that the story is \u201cvery strange.\u201d He does not accept,\nbut he certainly does not reject it. Nay, he cites a long account by\nan Esquimaux girl, who was in Quebec while he was there in 1720, of a\nkind of men among her country people \u201cwho had only one leg, one thigh,\nand a very large foot, two hands on the same arm, a broad body, flat\nhead, small eyes, scarcely any nose, and a very small mouth\u201d; they were\nalways in a bad humor, and could remain under water three-quarters of\nan hour at a time. \u201cAs for the monstrous men,\u201d he concludes, \u201cdescribed\nby the slave of M. de Courtemanche and by Donnacona, and the headless\nmen killed, it is pretended, by an Iroquois hunter a few years since\nwhile hunting, it is easy to believe that there is some exaggeration;\nbut it is easier to deny extraordinary facts than to explain them; and,\nmoreover, are we at liberty to reject whatever we cannot explain? Who\ncan pretend to know all the caprices and mysteries of nature?\u201d\n\nFrom Canada our historian passes suddenly to Florida, which he defines\nas \u201call that part of the continent of America lying between the two\nMexicos, New France, and North Carolina.\u201d To this part of the new world\nAdmiral de Coligni sent out a colony of Huguenots in 1562 under John\nde Ribaut, who built a fort at Port Royal, near the site of Beaufort,\nSouth Carolina. In all the early settlements of America, there is the\nsame story to be told of avarice and childish folly. The colonists\nwere not settlers, but adventurers. They had come in search of a land\nwhere they could grow rich without work, and pick up gold and silver\nwith no more trouble than the occasional killing of a few Indians. They\ndepended for sustenance upon what they brought from France and the\nprovisions they might purchase from the savages. But there was little\nto be obtained from a race of hunters who were half the year themselves\non the brink of starvation, and the fresh supplies promised from home\nwere often delayed. It is almost incredible that no attempt should have\nbeen made to cultivate the fertile lands upon which they established\nthemselves; but year after year the same blunder was repeated: winter\nfound the adventurers famishing; and promising colonies were broken\nup by their reckless improvidence. Such was the fate of Ribaut\u2019s\nsettlement at Port Royal. The commander had gone home to obtain\nre-enforcements. When the re-enforcements arrived under Laudonniere in\n1564, Port Royal had been abandoned. The colonists had built a vessel,\ncaulked the seams with moss, twisted the bark of trees for ropes, used\ntheir shirts for sails, and, with a short supply of provisions and a\ncrew composed of soldiers, had put to sea. They suffered terribly. The\nwater gave out, and some died of thirst. After they had eaten their\nlast shoe and their last scrap of leather, a soldier named Lachau\noffered the sacrifice of his own life to save the rest. They ate\nLachau, and drank his blood. Soon afterward, they sighted land, and\nabout the same time fell in with an English vessel.\n\nLaudonniere established himself on the St. John\u2019s River, in Florida.\nF. Charlevoix tells an interesting story of his curious dealings with\nthe Indians and the dissensions of his disorderly colonists. He seems\nto have been upon the whole a fair commander, but the fatal mistake of\nall these adventurers soon brought him to the brink of ruin. Provisions\ngave out. The expected relief from France was delayed. Fish and game\ngrew scarce. In July, 1567, Laudonniere was trying to patch up his one\nsmall vessel to return home, when he was unexpectedly relieved by a\nvisit from Sir John Hawkins with four English ships. Hawkins treated\nthe suffering Frenchmen with great generosity. He gave them bread and\nwine, replenished their stores of clothing and munitions, offered the\nwhole party a passage home to France, and finally persuaded them to\npurchase one of his vessels which was better fitted for their use than\ntheir own. Laudonniere now hastened his preparations for the voyage,\nand was actually weighing anchor, when Ribaut entered the river with\nseven vessels, and set about restoring the dismantled Fort Caroline,\nand planning an expedition after gold to the distant mountains of\nApalache. But this whole chapter is a tale of surprises. Six days after\nthe arrival of Ribaut, another squadron appeared at the mouth of the\nriver. It consisted of six Spanish ships under the command of Don\nPedro Menendez, whom Philip II. had despatched to conquer Florida, and\ndrive out the heretics.\n\nThe story now becomes a horrible narrative of battle, treachery, and\nmurder. Menendez attacked the French vessels without doing much injury,\nand then, hastening southward to the spot which he had already selected\nas the site of a settlement, began the building of St. Augustine. From\nSt. Augustine he marched with five hundred men through the swamps, in\nthe midst of a long and violent storm, surprised Fort Caroline, and\nput most of the garrison to the sword. At the spot of the execution,\nMenendez erected a stone with the inscription, \u201cI do this, not as\nto Frenchmen, but as to Lutherans.\u201d Nearly three years afterwards,\nDominic de Gourgues, after a semi-piratical cruise along the coast of\nAfrica and among the West India Islands, crossed over from Cuba to the\nmainland to avenge the slaughter of his countrymen. He reached the fort\nunsuspected, and took it by escalade, with the help of a large force\nof Indians. Then the prisoners were led to the scene of the former\nmassacre, and all hanged upon a tree, with the inscription: \u201cI do\nthis, not as to Spaniards nor as to maranes,[195] but as to traitors,\nrobbers, and murderers.\u201d Such is the story of Dominic de Gourgues, as\nCharlevoix gives it after contemporary French accounts. No Spanish\nversion of it is known to exist, and Mr. Shea points out in a note the\nreasons for regarding it with some suspicion. The conqueror could not\nhold what he had won. Burning the fort, and destroying all the plunder\nthat he was unable to carry away, he hastened back to France; and so\nended the history of French Florida.\n\nIt was about thirty years after this that the Marquis de la Roche,\na gentleman of Brittany, received from Henri IV. a commission as\nlieutenant-general of the king \u201cin the countries of Canada, Hochelaga,\nNewfoundland, Labrador, River of the Great Bay [St. Lawrence],\nNorimbegue, and adjacent lands,\u201d and fitted out a vessel to explore\nhis territory. Landing on Sable Island, ninety miles from the mainland\nof Nova Scotia (1598), he left there a colony of forty convicts whom\nhe had drawn from the French prisons, coasted awhile along the shores\nof Acadia (Nova Scotia), without accomplishing anything of value, and\nthen went back to France. Contrary winds prevented his taking off the\nwretched colony of Sable Island, and it was not until seven years\nlater that the king, hearing of the adventure, sent a ship to their\nrelief. Only twelve remained alive, and these were brought to court in\nthe same guise in which they were found, \u201ccovered with sealskin, with\nhair and beard of a length and disorder that made them resemble the\npretended river-gods, and so disfigured as to inspire horror. The king\ngave them fifty crowns apiece, and sent them home released from all\nprocess of law.\u201d The expedition of De Monts and Pontgrav\u00e9 (1604) was\nmore fortunate. It resulted in the settlement of Port Royal (Annapolis)\nby M. de Poutrincourt, under a grant from M. de Monts, afterwards\nconfirmed by the crown; it brought forward Samuel de Champlain, who was\nsoon to play so distinguished a part in the exploration and settlement\nof Canada; and it offered a career to the Jesuit missionaries, whose\nheroism reflected so much glory upon the colony. The king had\nintimated to M. de Poutrincourt, when he confirmed the grant of Port\nRoyal, that it was proper to invite the Jesuits to the new colony;\nand, by his majesty\u2019s desire, two priests were selected from the\nmany who volunteered to go. These were F. Peter Biard and F. Enemond\nMasse. Strange to say, the first difficulties they encountered were\nfrom their own countrymen. \u201cM. de Poutrincourt was a very worthy man,\u201d\nsays Charlevoix, \u201csincerely attached to the Catholic religion; but the\ncalumnies of the so-called Reformers had produced an impression on his\nmind, and he was fully determined not to take them to Port Royal. He\ndid not, however, show anything of this to the king, who, having given\nhis orders, had no doubt but that they were executed with all speed.\nThe Jesuits thought so; and F. Biard, at the commencement of the year\n[1608], proceeded to Bordeaux, where he was assured the embarkation\nwould take place. He was much surprised to see no preparation there;\nand he waited in vain for a whole year. The king, informed of this,\nreproached M. de Poutrincourt sharply; and the latter pledged his\nword to the king that he would no longer defer obeying his orders.\nHe actually prepared to go; but, as he said nothing of embarking the\nmissionaries, F. Cotton paid him a visit, to bring him to do so in a\nfriendly way. Poutrincourt begged him to be good enough to postpone it\ntill the following year, as Port Royal was by no means in a condition\nto receive the fathers. So frivolous a reason was regarded by F. Cotton\nas a refusal, but he did not deem it expedient to press the matter or\ninform the king. M. de Poutrincourt accordingly sailed for Acadia; and,\nwith a view of showing the court that the ministry of the Jesuits was\nnot necessary in the conversion of the heathen, he had scarcely arrived\nbefore he sent the king a list of twenty-five Indians baptized in\nhaste.\u201d Meanwhile, the king died, and Poutrincourt considered himself\nthereupon released from his obligation. It was in this difficulty that\nthe Marchioness de Guercheville, whose name is so honorably associated\nwith American adventure, declared herself the protectress of the\nmissions. But the story of the troubles which this powerful advocate\nhad to overcome gives us a curious idea of the manner in which American\naffairs were regulated at the French court. Biencourt, the son of M. de\nPoutrincourt, was about sailing for Acadia, and consented to take the\nmissionaries. When the fathers reached Dieppe, Biencourt had changed\nhis mind, or been overruled by his two Huguenot partners, and passage\nwas refused. Mme. de Guercheville had recourse to the queen mother, who\ngave a peremptory order that the Jesuits should be taken on board. The\norder was laughed at, and nobody attempted to enforce it. Then Mme. de\nGuercheville raised a subscription, bought off the two Calvinists, and\nproceeded to treat with Biencourt. Not finding his title clear, she\npurchased of M. de Monts all his lapsed privileges, with the purpose of\nreviving them, and formed a partnership with Biencourt, under which the\nsubsistence of the missionaries was to be drawn from the fishery and\nfur trade. Thus at last a woman accomplished what the king had failed\nin, and F. Biard and F. Masse reached the scene of their labors in 1611.\n\nMme. de Guercheville soon fell out with Poutrincourt, and resolved to\nfound a colony of her own. She despatched a ship under the Sieur de la\nSaussaye in 1613. The settlers landed on Mount Desert, and there began\na settlement, bringing FF. Biard and Masse from Port Royal, and having\nwith them also two other Jesuits, a priest named Quentin, and a lay\nbrother, Du Thet. The narrative of the destruction of this settlement\nas well as Port Royal by the English free-booting adventurer Argall,\nfrom Virginia, is familiar to all American readers. The colony had not\nyet assumed a regulated form when the Englishman swept down upon it,\ncarried some of the settlers to Virginia, and sent the rest to sea in\na small bark. The latter, among whom was F. Masse, were picked up by\na French ship, and carried to St. Malo. The others, after much harsh\ntreatment at Jamestown from Sir Thomas Dale, were taken back to Acadia\nwith an expedition sent to complete the demolition of the French posts.\nArgall performed his task thoroughly, and set sail again for Virginia.\nOf his three vessels, scattered in a storm, one was lost; another,\nunder his own command, reached Jamestown in safety; the third, bearing\nFathers Biard and Quentin (Brother du Thet had been killed in Argall\u2019s\nfirst attack), and having one Turnell for captain, was driven to the\nAzores, and forced to seek shelter at Fayal. Here the Jesuits had only\nto complain of the outrages to which they had been subjected, and they\nwould have been at once avenged. Turnell was alarmed, and begged them\nto keep concealed when the officers of the port visited his vessel.\n\u201cThey consented with good grace. The visit over, the English captain\nhad liberty to buy all that he needed, after which he again weighed\nanchor, and the rest of his voyage was fortunate. But he found himself\nin a new embarrassment on arriving in England: he had no commission,\nand, although he represented that he had accidentally been separated\nfrom his commander, he was looked upon as a deserter from Virginia, and\nput in prison, from which he was released only on the testimony of the\nJesuits. After this time, he was unwearied in publishing the virtue\nof the missionaries, twice his liberators, and especially the service\nthey had done him at Fayal, where they returned good for evil as they\nso generously did, foregoing all the advantages which they might have\nobtained by making themselves known. Nothing, indeed, was omitted to\ncompensate for them in England, where they were very kindly treated as\nlong as they remained.\u201d\n\nThe settlements in Canada proper, however, were now firmly established,\nand Quebec was rapidly becoming prosperous. The early history of this\ntown, the adventures and discoveries of Champlain, the expeditions\nof the settlers against the Iroquois, and the surrender of Quebec\nto the English under Kirk (or Kertk), who was a Frenchman by birth,\nthough an officer in the English service, are told by F. Charlevoix\nat considerable length. It was in 1629 that Quebec fell, and three\nyears afterwards the whole colony was restored to France by the treaty\nof St. Germain. Champlain returned with the title of Governor of\nNew France in 1633, and began at once that zealous and enlightened\ncareer of missionary labor by which he has won so glorious a fame.\nFor we may well style him a missionary. Entrusted with the temporal\ngovernment of the young colony, it was not his part to explore the\nwilderness with crucifix and missal, to venture into the cabins of the\nsavages as a teacher of the Gospel, to brave martyrdom, to suffer\nunheard-of tortures, even to the stake; but he nevertheless fulfilled\nan important, an almost indispensable, function in the establishment of\nthe Canada missions. He was the best friend and patron of the Jesuits\nand other heroes who gave their lives so freely among the Indians. He\ntook care that a number of these devoted priests should be invited to\nthe colony, and that the settlers themselves should give an example\nof Christian demeanor that might do credit to their teachers. \u201cIn a\nshort time,\u201d says Charlevoix, \u201calmost all who composed the new colony\nwere seen to follow the example of their governor, and make an open\nand sincere profession of piety. The same attention was continued\nin subsequent years, and there soon arose in this part of America a\ngeneration of true Christians, among whom reigned the simplicity of the\nprimitive ages of the church, and whose posterity have not lost sight\nof the great example left them by their ancestors. The consolation\nwhich such a change afforded the laborers appointed to cultivate this\ntransplanted vineyard so sweetened the crosses of the most painful\nmission ever perhaps established in the New World, that what they wrote\nto their brethren in France created among them a real eagerness to go\nand share their labors. The annual _Relations_ which we have of these\nhappy times, and the constant tradition preserved in the country,\nboth attest that there was an indescribable unction attached to this\nIndian mission which made it preferred to many others infinitely more\nbrilliant and even more fruitful.\u201d Champlain\u2019s career, however, as\ngovernor was unhappily too short. He died on Christmas day, in 1635.\n\u201cHe may well be called,\u201d says the historian, \u201cthe father of New France.\nHe had good sense, much penetration, very upright views, and no man\nwas ever more skilled in adopting a course in the most complicated\naffairs. What all admired most in him was his constancy in following\nup his enterprises; his firmness in the greatest dangers; a courage\nproof against the most unforeseen reverses and disappointments; ardent\nand disinterested patriotism; a heart tender and compassionate for the\nunhappy, and more attentive to the interests of his friends than his\nown; a high sense of honor, and great probity. His memoirs show that he\nwas not ignorant of anything that one of his profession should know;\nand we find in him a faithful and sincere historian, an attentively\nobservant traveller, a judicious writer, a good mathematician, and an\nable mariner. But what crowns all these good qualities is the fact that\nin his life, as well as in his writings, he shows himself always a\ntruly Christian man, zealous for the service of God, full of candor and\nreligion. He was accustomed to say, what we read in his memoirs, \u2018that\nthe salvation of a single soul was worth more than the conquest of an\nempire, and that kings should seek to extend their domain in heathen\ncountries only to subject them to Christ.\u2019\u201d\n\nWe have insensibly gone deeper into these attractive volumes than we\nintended, and we must pass over the remaining books, which record the\ngrowth of the Canadian settlements, the wars with the Indians after\nChamplain\u2019s death, the hostilities with the English, and the progress\nof the missions. Neither can we linger over the fascinating story of\nMarquette\u2019s voyage down the Mississippi, or the expeditions, of La\nSalle, or the various attempts at colonizing the shores of the Mexican\nGulf. What little space remains for us we must give to an examination\nof a portion of Mr. Shea\u2019s labor which has not yet been duly estimated.\nHe has given much more than a translation of F. Charlevoix\u2019s\n_Histoire_. The text is rendered with great care, and we presume with\ngreat faithfulness, into simple, graceful, and idiomatic English. The\npeculiarities of the original, in the orthography of proper names and\nin other particulars, are all preserved. It is indeed Charlevoix\u2019s\nwork, as exactly as any work can be reproduced in a language different\nfrom its author\u2019s. But Mr. Shea has bestowed upon it an editorial\nsupervision which nearly doubles its value. With extraordinary zeal,\nlearning, and intelligence, he has traced almost every statement to\nits source, collated rare authorities, and in modest and compact\nfoot-notes, whose number must amount to several thousands, has\ncorrected errors, identified localities, and thrown a perfect flood of\nlight upon doubtful passages and controverted statements. The patient\nindustry, the rare judgment, and the unassuming scholarship which\nMr. Shea has brought to the execution of this noble task can only be\nappreciated by one who has studied his work with some care, and to whom\nfamiliarity with the subject has taught something of its difficulties.\nHe has not only been at the pains of consulting the authors to whom F.\nCharlevoix expressly refers, weighing the soundness of F. Charlevoix\u2019s\nconclusions from their testimony, and correcting his citations, but he\nhas made it a point to discover the authorities whom the good father\nfollowed without quoting, and he has often pursued devious statements\nbackward through a score of forgotten books, until he has reached\nat last the sober truth from which they started. Doing this without\nparade, without verbosity, and with an icy impartiality, Mr. Shea has\napproved himself a model editor.\n\nThe outward appearance of the six volumes will delight the heart of\nthe fastidious collector. Such beautiful and symmetrical arrangement\nof the generous pages, such royal elegance of type, such rich and\nrefined tints, such noble margins, and such magnificent paper\u2014every\nleaf stout enough to stand alone\u2014these things make up the gorgeous\napparel in which the work has been dressed, we may say, by Mr. Shea\u2019s\nown hands. Excellent engravings add not merely to its appearance but\nits value. There are steel-plate portraits of governors, adventurers,\nand missionaries; there are fac-similes of autographs; there are\ncopies of curious old maps and plans. Finally, the book is furnished\nwith a copious and systematic index\u2014and so Mr. Shea shows himself\nconscientious alike as an editor and publisher.\n\n\n\n\nMADAME AGNES.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES DUBOIS.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\nTHE ENEMY ON EITHER HAND.\n\n\nWHAT I have just related took place in the month of August. I was at\nthat time extremely anxious about Victor, but an unexpected improvement\ntook place in his condition after Louis\u2019 visit. Alas! he was never to\nrally again.\n\nLouis sent every morning for some time to know how his sick friend was,\nbut he only came to see us once, and then merely for a few minutes. He\nonly left St. M\u2014\u2014 with regret. He seemed to feel that, in absenting\nhimself, he left the field clear to his bold rival, as it was now\nevident he was, and at a time when an attack was threatened against\nwhat he cherished the most\u2014the good work he had begun, and Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s\naffection. He did not, therefore, inform us at that time of all I have\njust related. On the contrary, we were left in a state of painful\nincertitude. But I had every detail at a later day, even the very\nthoughts of both parties, and from their own lips.\n\nHowever, Albert was not fitted to play the part of a man of gravity or\nthat of a hypocrite for a long time. For that, more perseverance and\nability than he had were required. A frivolous man like him may, by\ncareful watch over himself, assume an appearance of thoughtfulness,\nbut he will soon show himself in his true colors through weariness, or\nat an unguarded moment. He had hardly been in the house a fortnight\nbefore he unconsciously showed what he was at the bottom of his heart.\nHe rose at a late hour, he resumed his habit of careful attention to\nhis toilet, he lounged about from morning till night, conversing only\nof trivial things or discussing points he was ignorant of, and read\nromances of a doubtful character, which, so far from hiding, he left\nabout in his room. Eug\u00e9nie kept an eye open to all these things. She\nwatched her cousin with the natural persistency she inherited from\nher father; she drew her own conclusions, and ended by treating him\njust as she used to do, like a spoiled child she loved because he was\na relative, but would not, on any account, have for a husband. Albert\ntried now and then to resume his gravity; he went to church, and\ndiscussed the loftiest themes. Vain efforts! His uncle and cousin knew\nwhat to think of it all. Albert perceived it, and was inwardly furious.\n\nMme. Smithson alone manifested an ever-increasing fondness for him. Her\naffection for his mother as well as himself, and her acknowledged but\nconstant wish for Mr. Smithson\u2019s property to come into the possession\nof her own family by the marriage of the two cousins, inclined her\ntowards her nephew. But of what account was Mme. Smithson in the house?\nVery little. Albert was under no illusion on this point, and therefore\nhad never attached much importance to his aunt\u2019s support. For two or\nthree days he exulted over the stratagem he had formed for awakening\nunfavorable sentiments in his cousin\u2019s heart toward the engineer.\nBut Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s suspicions could not last long without her seeking an\nexplanation. Then all would be lost, for Albert felt that Louis did not\nlove Madeleine. If, on the other hand, Eug\u00e9nie was not in love with\nLouis, she would keep her conjectures to herself, and merely withdraw\nher favor from him.\n\nAlbert\u2019s affairs, therefore, had not in any respect taken the turn he\nhoped in the beginning. \u201cWhat can be done? What can be done?\u201d he said\nto himself. \u201cI must devise some way of getting rid of this fellow who\nis disturbing my uncle and Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s peace of mind so much. Things\nmust be brought to a crisis. If Louis were only dismissed, my cousin\nin her despair would accept me as her husband. My uncle would manifest\nno opposition out of regard for his wife, and because, after all, I\nshould not be a troublesome son-in-law. At all events, I should have\nthe satisfaction of routing a creature I detest. Whether Eug\u00e9nie loves\nhim or not, I can never, no, never suffer this artful man to marry her.\nIf my coming only serves to drive him away, I shall be glad I came.\u201d\n\nSuch calculations were extremely base and dishonorable, but it must be\nremembered that Albert was devoid of piety, he coveted his cousin\u2019s\ndowry, and his antipathy to Louis became stronger every day. People\ndestitute of moral principle and religious faith hate those who possess\nthe good qualities they lack themselves. Albert had tried in vain to\nblind himself with regard to Louis; but the more he studied him, the\nmore clearly he saw he was incontestably a man of great depth, sincere\npiety, and uncommon energy. At first he doubted his worth, but he could\nquestion it no longer.\n\nEug\u00e9nie during this time was extremely sad and preoccupied, though no\none would have suspected what was passing in the depths of her soul.\nThe poor girl could no longer conceal it from herself: she loved\nLouis. But she was still uncertain as to his love for her. She even\nasked herself\u2014and this was an additional torture\u2014if he was worthy\nof the affection she bore him. You will not be astonished if I add\nthat, romantic as Eug\u00e9nie was, she was a woman to be driven in such a\nconjuncture to the very step Albert was aiming at. Only one thing was\nwanting to effect this\u2014the necessity of withdrawing her esteem from\nLouis. In a noble nature like hers, it would have quenched her love and\nbroken her very heart to despise the object of her affections.\n\nAffairs were in this condition when a new incident came to the aid\nof Albert\u2019s schemes. Mr. Smithson, it will be well to recall, was\nnot originally a manufacturer of paper. A dishonest broker, or one\nwho lacked shrewdness, led him into a succession of unfortunate\nspeculations. Repeated losses were the result. Mr. Smithson perceived\nhis property was diminishing in an alarming manner. He at once settled\nup his affairs, and, by the advice of Louis\u2019 father, bought the mill\nat St. M\u2014\u2014, the proprietor of which had just died. This was in every\nrespect an advantageous investment: First, it withdrew him from the\narena of stock speculations, where fortune, conscience, and honor are\ndaily risked; in the next place, the mill he purchased brought in a\nfine income. But it was no small affair to conduct such an enterprise,\nemploying as it did five or six hundred workmen.\n\nMr. Smithson\u2019s predecessor, a man perfectly familiar with the business,\ndirected the establishment himself. Everything went on prosperously,\nand Mr. Smithson wished to imitate him. In a few months, he saw he was\ngoing wrong. The workmen were indolent, the machinery deteriorated,\neverything was going to ruin. It is not sufficient to be methodical,\nintelligent, and energetic, in order to conduct a manufacturing\nconcern; a man must have a special knowledge of mechanics and a\nfaculty of adaptation which Mr. Smithson did not possess. He became\nconscious of this, and resolved to obtain a book-keeper of probity\nand intelligence to keep his accounts, and an engineer equally versed\nin his business. They were both soon found, but the book-keeper alone\nproved suitable. The engineer had practical knowledge enough, but was\ndeficient in energy. The workmen and overseers soon perceived it, and\nprofited by it to do less and less. The engineer was discharged and\nLouis chosen to fill his place.\n\nFrom the time of Louis\u2019 arrival, the aspect of everything changed.\nThe workmen felt they now had a superintendent to deal with that was\ninflexible but just. The overseers alone were inclined to resist\nhis authority. They were sharply reprimanded, and the most mutinous\ndischarged. Mr. Smithson, warned by his previous experience, seconded\nLouis with all the weight of his authority. He gave him absolute\ncontrol of the manufactory when he was absent, and never failed to come\nto his support whenever Louis found severe measures necessary.\n\nAll this did not take place, it may well be supposed, without exciting\nsome murmurs and secret rancor. Among the foremost of those most\ndissatisfied with this necessary rigor was an overseer by the name\nof Durand, who came to the mill some months before Louis. He was a\nman of about forty years of age, of lofty stature, a sombre face\nexpressive of energy, and grave and fluent of speech. He came provided\nwith the best recommendations, but it was afterwards learned they\nwere forged. This man succeeded both in intimidating the engineer who\npreceded Louis, and acquiring his favor. Half through fear, and half\nweakness, he allowed Durand to assume an authority he abused in many\nways. When Louis replaced this weak man so afraid of Durand, there\nwas more than one contest between him and the overseer. Their last\naltercation had been very violent. Durand insulted the engineer before\nall the workmen, and in so bold a manner that Mr. Smithson, informed\nof what had taken place, at once discharged him. Rather than give up\nhis situation, Durand submitted to the humiliation of begging Louis\u2019\npardon. Notwithstanding this, he was merely kept on sufferance, though\nhe was well paid, for he was clever in his way, and in one sense a\nmodel overseer: no one kept better discipline.\n\nAstonishing as it may seem, when Louis instituted the evening-school,\nDurand was the first to offer his assistance, and was appointed\nmonitor. One thing, however, tried Louis: his monitor, always polite\nand respectful to his face, was in the habit of whispering behind his\nback, as if secretly conniving with the men. But nothing occurred\nto justify his suspicions, and Louis at length ceased to attach any\nimportance to the overseer\u2019s strange ways. When the night-school\nclosed, about half-past eight, Durand went away a little before\nLouis to finish the evening at the St. M\u2014\u2014 caf\u00e9, which was greatly\nfrequented by the inhabitants of the place. There he gambled and\nharangued at his ease, and acquired the reputation of being the ablest\ntalker in the country around. As to his political opinions, they were\nnot positively known. He was suspected of being a demagogue, and even\nan ultra one, but there was no proof of it. He was less secret about\nhis religious belief. He called himself a Protestant, and a thorough\none.\n\nMeanwhile, Albert began to find the life he was leading at his uncle\u2019s\nwearisome and monotonous. The evenings especially seemed interminable.\nMr. Smithson read, Mme. Smithson was absorbed in her tapestry, and\nEug\u00e9nie played on the piano. Albert did not know what to do with\nhimself. He did not dare have recourse to a novel; conversation with\nhis aunt was not very enlivening; and, if he addressed himself to\nEug\u00e9nie, she showed so much skill in embarrassing him on every subject\nthat he avoided the occasion of appearing to so much disadvantage.\nBesides, Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s superiority irritated him. Had it not been for her\nfortune, which he found more and more attractive, and her beauty, to\nwhich he could not remain insensible, he would at once have given up\nall thoughts of marrying her. But her property on the one hand, and her\nbeauty on the other, deterred him. However, with his frivolous mind,\nhe soon found it intolerable to be confined to his cousin\u2019s society\nevery evening, even for the purpose of paying court to her. One night,\nit suddenly occurred to him to go to the caf\u00e9, and after that he went\nthere regularly after dinner to pass an hour. He was welcomed very\ncordially, especially by Durand, who at once made every effort to win\nhis favor. The wily overseer was so profuse in respectful attentions\nthat in a few evenings they were friends. Durand, with his uncommon\npenetration, soon discovered from some indiscreet words Albert dropped\nwhat was troubling his shallow mind. He could see he was desirous of\nmarrying his cousin, and so suspicious of Louis that he detested him\nand asked for nothing better than to see him dismissed. Durand at once\nresolved to gain Albert\u2019s friendship and profit by it to involve Louis\nin some inextricable embarrassment. He was determined to have his\nrevenge at whatever cost, but it was necessary to proceed with caution.\nHe began by sounding Albert to make sure of his antipathy to Louis,\nthat he really wished for his dismissal, and if he cared what means\nwere employed provided the end was attained.\n\nDurand gave himself no rest till he was sure of all this\u2014a certitude\nhe acquired the day when Albert, impatient at the unfavorable progress\nof his affairs, resolved to bring things to a sudden crisis by having\nLouis dismissed, if possible. The overseer waited till Albert left the\ncaf\u00e9, and then proposed he should accompany him to the manufactory,\nwhere he lodged.\n\n\u201cWillingly, my good fellow,\u201d said Albert. It was a fine evening in the\nmonth of September. They set off together by the road that ran along\nthe river half-hidden among trees, through which the moon diffused its\npurest radiance.\n\n\u201cWe do not see you any more at the mill,\u201d said Durand. \u201cI daresay I\ncould guess why you have stopped visiting the school.... Would there be\nany indiscretion in telling you the reason that has occurred to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot the least in the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, if I am not mistaken, there is some one at the mill not\nexactly to your liking.... Yes, somebody keeps you away....\u201d\n\n\u201cThat may be.\u201d\n\n\u201cAh! I am no fool. I think I have found out the cause of our being\ndeprived of your visits. It must have been something serious. See if\nI haven\u2019t some wit left.... The person you dislike is M. Louis, is it\nnot?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right, my friend,\u201d replied Albert, patting Durand on the\nshoulder in a familiar manner.\n\n\u201cThere are others who do not like him any better than you.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot you? You are his assistant at the school, and seem on the best of\nterms with him.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Seem?_ Yes, I seem; but to seem and be are sometimes very different\nthings. Listen: the very instant I saw you\u2014excuse my frankness\u2014you\ninspired me with so much confidence that, faith, I feel inclined to\ntell you all that is on my mind. It would do me good.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo not be afraid of my betraying you, _mon cher_; speak to me as a\nfriend.\u201d\n\n\u201cO monsieur! you are too kind. Well, since you allow me, I tell you\nplainly I do not like that man; no, not at all.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has been insolent and overbearing towards you, I know.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf that were all, I could forgive him. But it is not a question of\nmyself. I dislike, I detest him for another reason. Whoever likes Mr.\nSmithson cannot like the engineer, as I can convince anybody who wishes\nit.\u201d\n\n\u201cExplain yourself; I do not exactly understand you.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell\u2014but swear you will never repeat what I am going to say.\u201d\n\n\u201cI give you my word, which I never break.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, this M. Louis is a Tartuffe\u2014a Jesuit; such men are\ndangerous. Woe to the houses they enter! He has wasted all his\nproperty, we know how! It is a shame!... Then he artfully obtained\na place in your uncle\u2019s mill, where he has assumed more and more\nauthority; he tries to influence the minds of the workmen; he ...\nwishes to marry your cousin.... _Parbleu!_ I may as well say aloud what\neverybody is saying in secret.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo they say that, Durand?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, that is the report. But his art and hypocrisy are in vain. More\nthan one of us understand his projects.... And let me assure you we\ntremble lest he succeed! There will be fine doings when the mill passes\ninto the hands of this Jesuit, who will spend all of Mr. Smithson\u2019s\nproperty, and prepare him a pitiful old age. Do you see now why I\ncannot endure that man? Oh! if I were master I would soon set him\na-flying.... But I am not the master, ... it is he who is likely to be.\nIf somebody could only get him dismissed!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, yes,\u201d said Albert, in a conceited tone. \u201cThere is some truth\nin what you say\u2014a great deal, in fact.... Since I have been here, I\nhave watched and studied his movements, and agree with you that it was\nrather an unlucky day for my uncle when he admitted this intriguer into\nhis house. His schemes make me anxious.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs there no way of defeating them?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be no easy matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cCome, now! As if you, Mr. Smithson\u2019s nephew; you who have more\nlearning than all of us put together\u2014who have more wit than I, though\nI am no fool\u2014as if you could not send him adrift if you wished to!...\nYou could never make me believe that.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can I do? I certainly ask for nothing better than to get him into\nsome difficulty; but how? He performs his duties with exasperating\nfidelity.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! it is not on that score you must attack him; he is too cunning to\nbe at fault there.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, if he is not at fault, do you wish me to make him out so?\u201d\n\n\u201cPrecisely. That is what must be done. See here, M. Albert, as you\nknow of no way, I will tell you an idea that has come into my head;\nfor I have been a long time contriving some means of driving that man\naway. But I must first warn you not to take my plan for more than it is\nworth. If it is not a good one, we will try to discover a better one.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us hear it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have an Englishman at the mill who tells me he does not intend to\nremain. This man has been to the evening-school several times. M. Louis\nhas lent him religious books.... Can\u2019t you guess what I am at?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, this is my plan. The man I refer to and I are linked together.\nIt would be a long story to tell how and why. If I should go to\nhim\u2014to-morrow, for instance\u2014and say: \u2018Adams, I know you intend\nleaving St. M\u2014\u2014. Will you do your friend a favor before you go? Rid\nme of that engineer. I do not mean for you to kill him or do him any\nharm: we are neither of us murderers. I simply propose you should play\nhim some trick, as they call it. You are on good terms with him: he\nlends you books. Go and tell him you have come to consult him about\nsome doubts on the subject of religion. Beg him to enlighten you. Ask\nfor some controversial works, and cautiously insinuate the possibility\nof abjuring your religion. You will naturally be open in your projects.\nYou will even talk of them with an air of profound conviction. This\nwill cause some noise. I shall then take hold of it. In case of\nnecessity, I shall have a violent dispute with the engineer, which\nof course will oblige Mr. Smithson to interfere.\u2019 I know he is not\ndisposed to jest about such matters. Once the affair is brought before\nhim, the engineer is lost. I will not give him a week to remain at the\nmill after that.... Such is my idea; what do you think of it?\u201d\n\n\u201cDurand, you are a genius. Your plan is admirable. The moment my uncle\nfinds the engineer is trying to propagate his religion, he is lost, as\nyou say. You must put your project into execution without any delay.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am glad to see you approve of it, not only because it flatters my\nself-love, but because it makes me more hopeful of success. I should be\nbetter satisfied, however, if you would promise to help us in case you\nare needed.... We are not sure of succeeding in our plan. The engineer\nis cunning, and Mr. Smithson\u2019s way of acting is not always easy to\nforesee. And if we should fail\u2014if I get into difficulty!...\u201d\n\n\u201cI promise to stand by you. Rest assured I shall not be backward in\ntrying my utmost to influence my uncle against him. This will be\neasy, for he already distrusts the engineer. Nevertheless, admonish\nyour friend to be extremely cautious. No one must have the slightest\nsuspicion of the scheme. Success then would be impossible.\u201d\n\n\u201cAdams does not lack wit. He will know how to manage. But one thing\nalarms me, and will him. If his conversion were to offend Mr. Smithson\nto such a degree as to cause his dismissal in disgrace! Where could he\ngo without recommendations?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, how simple you are! All this can be turned to his advantage.\nAs soon as he sees my uncle irritated, he must ask for a private\ninterview, consult him as to his belief, and pretend to yield to\nhis arguments. He must end by avowing his determination to remain a\nProtestant, and declaring he had been led away by the engineer. The\nresult is evident.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are sharper than I. I did not think of that. Your idea makes\neverything safe, and settles the matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd when shall the first shot be fired?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut one question more.... It would be vexatious if the engineer\nrefused the bait and sent Adams a-walking.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo danger of that. The engineer is a genuine fanatic. I am sure of\nthat, and I have had an opportunity of judging.\u201d\n\nWhile thus conversing, our two conspirators had nearly reached the\nmill. They separated without being seen. Albert was radiant. As he\nretired, he said to himself: \u201cWhy did I not think of this scheme\nmyself?... It is so simple, and cannot fail! A saint like the engineer\nwill risk everything to gain a soul.... And yet, if he should be\nafraid, as Durand said; if he is only a Catholic outwardly!... That\nwould be embarrassing! Strange! for once, I hope the fellow is\nsincere!...\u201d\n\nThe following morning, Durand took a private opportunity of giving his\nassociate his instructions, and that night Adams begged Louis to grant\nhim an interview in his room after school.\n\nThe interview took place. Durand had only told the truth: Adams was an\nartful fellow\u2014one of those men who conceal uncommon duplicity under\nthe appearance of perfect candor. He had been Durand\u2019s tool for a long\ntime. The latter had rendered him more than one service, and employed\nhim in numerous fraudulent transactions, which he generously rewarded\nhim for. Durand lent money upon pledge to workmen in difficulty. He\nunlawfully appropriated a thousand small objects in the manufactory,\nand had them sold. His assistant in this dishonest traffic, his man of\nbusiness, as he called him, was Adams, who was well paid, as may be\nsupposed.\n\nThe Englishman, cunning as he was, had some difficulty in persuading\nLouis he was serious in his intention of abjuring his religion. But\nhe dwelt on his doubts with such apparent sincerity, he manifested\nso strong a desire to be rescued from error, if he was in error,\nthat Louis immediately proposed he should consult the _cur\u00e9_. Adams\npretended the _cur\u00e9_ intimidated him; he was more at his ease with\nLouis, and could talk to him with perfect openness of heart. \u201cIf I\nhave to go to the _cur\u00e9_\u201d said he, \u201cwell, then, I shall defer it. I do\nnot wish to expose myself to observations that would not fail to be\nmade. After all, monsieur,\u201d he added, \u201cI am only in doubt. I am not yet\nconvinced of being in error. When I see clearly I am, oh! then I will\nno longer conceal my sentiments. But meanwhile, I do not wish everybody\nto know what is passing in my soul.\u201d\n\nThese plausible statements banished Louis\u2019 suspicions. He received the\nyoung man in his room several evenings in succession. He lent him a\nsmall book, easy of comprehension, that contained a thorough refutation\nof Protestantism. Poor Louis! he behaved with genuine heroism on this\noccasion. From the first he foresaw all the trouble such an affair was\nlikely to cause him. He did not deceive himself as to the result of\nthis abjuration. He had an immediate presentiment of Mr. Smithson\u2019s\nanger, and the difficult, nay, intolerable position he would be in if\nthis conversion took place. No matter, he would brave everything rather\nthan neglect his duty as a Christian, which obliged him to point out\nthe true religion to all who sought it.\n\nHe was also preoccupied at this time by the remembrance of what had\ntaken place at Vinceneau\u2019s, and suffered from the coolness Eug\u00e9nie\nmanifested towards him. He saw he was kept more at a distance than\never by Mr. Smithson, who looked upon him as a dangerous man. Louis\u2019\nsituation, it must be confessed, was distressing. He would have given\nmuch to have at least one consoling word from the lips of her whom he\nloved, and before whom he saw he had been calumniated. This unhoped-for\nhappiness was at last granted him under peculiar circumstances. Louis\nhad just been to see the Vinceneau family, which was in a worse plight\nthan ever. The father had taken to drink with fresh madness, and\nthe mother had a fit of indolence that kept her away from the mill.\nMadeleine alone worked for the whole family. Louis had been there to\nreason with the mother, who gave him the worst possible reception.\nHe tried to encourage the daughter, but without success. Madeleine\nhad also, to some degree, the family weakness\u2014a lack of energy of\ncharacter.\n\nLouis had come away unusually dejected. On his way back to the\nmanufactory, while dwelling, first on these unfortunate people, then on\nAdams, who that very day had spoken of soon abjuring his religion, and\nfinally on Victor, about whom he had just received the most alarming\nintelligence, he met Eug\u00e9nie face to face. She turned pale at seeing\nhim, and replied to his greeting with extreme coldness as she kept\non....\n\nLouis\u2019 sadness redoubled. He took a sudden resolution. \u201cI must justify\nmyself,\u201d he said, ... and, intimidated as he was\u2014the man who loves\nwith a pure affection is always timid\u2014he stopped and turned back.\n\n\u201cMademoiselle,\u201d said he, addressing Eug\u00e9nie, \u201cI have a favor to ask.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is it, monsieur?\u201d\n\n\u201cAmong the poor families I am interested in is one I have never spoken\nto you about.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are under no obligation, monsieur, to inform me of all the\nfamilies you visit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know it, mademoiselle; but, as I am not ashamed of any of the\nplaces I go to, I have no interest in concealing them. If I have\nnot heretofore spoken of this family, it was for a special reason.\nThese people, of the name of Vinceneau, were recommended to me by old\nFran\u00e7oise. She took the liveliest interest in one of the members of the\nhousehold\u2014a girl by the name of Madeleine. She feared lest poverty and\nher parents\u2019 bad example might be a source of danger to one of her age.\nMadeleine is irreproachable in her conduct, but weak in character, like\nher father and mother. Fran\u00e7oise made me promise to watch over her. She\nwould have begged this favor of you, mademoiselle, had not a special\nreason prevented her. She knew Madeleine\u2019s parents were envious,\nand regarded the rich with an evil eye. She feared exposing you to\nimpertinence if she brought you in contact with them. Consequently,\nshe recommended them to me. Madeleine has told me of your call at\nthe house. Your kindness touched the mother. As to the father, his\nshameful passion for drink has brutalized him.\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie listened with undisguised interest, and softened as Louis\ncontinued. When he had finished, she said: \u201cWhat do you wish me to do?\nto show some interest in them?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be a very timely act of charity. The mother has not done any\nwork for several days, the father is gone from morning till night, and\nthe daughter is discouraged. You can rouse her courage much better than\nI. And allow me to say, mademoiselle, that the difficulties that once\nmight have hindered you being removed, this work, for many reasons, is\nmuch more suitable for you than for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will go to see them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, mademoiselle,\u201d replied Louis. \u201cI am overwhelmed with cares\nand occupations, and give the family up to you with pleasure.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you not mean to visit them any more?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a great mind not to.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy not?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is a delicate subject, but I think the less I go there, the better.\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand you, ... but still I do not think you are right. _Fais ce\nque dois, advienne que pourra_,[196] is my motto. Is it not yours?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be, mademoiselle, if the world were not so malicious.\nAs it is, people even of the best intentions cannot take too many\nprecautions. I confess there is nothing I dread more than calumny. It\nalways does injury, and it is hard to feel we are losing the esteem of\nthose whose good opinion we desire the most.\u201d\n\n\u201cPeople who allow themselves to be influenced by calumny cannot have\nmuch character.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think so, mademoiselle?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sure of it. Before doubting a person I have once esteemed, I\nwait till their acts openly condemn them. If I have the misfortune to\ndespise them then, it is because they force me to do so.\u201d\n\nThese words were uttered in a significant tone. Eug\u00e9nie then left Louis\nabruptly with a gracious and dignified salutation.\n\nLouis stood looking at her as she went away, admiring her slender\nform and the exquisite distinction of her whole person. This sudden\nmeeting with her seemed like one of those glimpses of the sun that\nsometimes occur in the midst of the most violent storms. He thanked\nGod; he felt happy at her indirect assurance that she still regarded\nhim with esteem. He asked himself if she did not love him. He did not\ndare believe it, but was almost ready to do so. One fear alone remained\nin all its strength\u2014the fear of incurring Mr. Smithson\u2019s anger by\nco-operating in the conversion of Adams.\n\nAh! if Louis had not been heartily devoted to his faith, how soon he\nwould have despatched this troublesome neophyte! But, no; he ought not,\nhe could not. He consoled himself by repeating Eug\u00e9nie\u2019s words, which\nhad struck him in a peculiar manner: _Fais ce que dois, advienne que\npourra_.... \u201cWell,\u201d thought he, \u201cwhat I ought to do is to enlighten\nthose who seek the truth.... I yield to a sense of duty. Eug\u00e9nie is\na Catholic as well as I, and cannot help approving of my course. If\nMr. Smithson is displeased, his daughter, to be consistent with her\nprinciples, must confess that I am right.\u201d\n\nAs Louis entered his room, a note was given him from me, imploring him\nto come to us as soon as possible.\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\nVICTOR\u2019S DEATH.\u2014PLOTS AGAINST LOUIS.\n\nFor ten long months, Victor had suffered from a terrible malady that\nnever lets go. Every remedy had been tried in vain. His disease was\nphthisis of a peculiar kind and of the most alarming character. The two\nphysicians we consulted could only reply when their patient insisted on\nknowing the truth: \u201cYour illness is of an extremely serious nature; but\nyou are young, and at your age nature often finds unexpected resources\nin a time of danger.\u201d\n\nIt was impossible to cure him. They could only prolong his life, and\nthis was the aim of the physicians. By dint of care, they succeeded\nin keeping him alive till the beginning of September. Then the\ndisease, whose ravages we had not realized, suddenly came to a crisis.\nThroughout the whole course of his sufferings, I had, in spite of\neverything, cherished a secret hope in the depths of my heart. When one\nof those favorable turns came peculiar to such complaints, I flattered\nmyself that he would get well, and abandoned myself to a foolish joy.\nThis joy, so natural, and yet so unreasonable, gave Victor pain. He\nendeavored to moderate it in a thousand ingenious and delicate ways. He\nhimself was never under any illusion. His illness was fatal: he knew\nit, and calmly prepared himself for what he called the great journey.\nHe was greatly afflicted to see I was not, like himself, preparing for\nour separation, the thought of which became more painful in proportion\nto the horror with which I regarded it. He tried to banish all my false\nhopes, but his efforts were in vain. I clung to them without owning\nit. I only gave them up at the time I have arrived at in my sad story.\nThen I began to realize the frightful truth, and, as I saw his alarming\nsymptoms increase, I thought I should die.\n\nVictor at length succeeded in restoring somewhat of calmness to my\nsoul. With a strength of mind that increased in proportion to the\nnearness of that awful moment, he made his final preparations. He\ngave himself up to the contemplation of eternal things. His friend,\nthe good Abb\u00e9 Merlin, administered the last consolations of religion.\nLouis received them with a faith that edified every one, and a joy that\nshowed how he had profited by his illness to prepare for heaven. He\nwas already there in spirit, and longed to be there in reality. This\ntouched me, and I confess, to my great shame, I reproached him in my\nexcessive grief with some expressions of bitterness. This was the last\nsorrow I caused my poor husband. Such reproaches could only come from a\nselfish soul. I now blush at the remembrance.\n\nAll these necessary steps having been taken, Victor told me I must\nsend for Louis. As you know, he received my note in the evening. That\nvery night he arrived. It was high time. We all three passed the night\ntogether talking, praying, and weeping by turns. Victor consoled us. He\neven forced himself to express anxiety as to Louis\u2019 affairs. The latter\nspoke of them very unwillingly, for his grief overpowered his sense of\nlove. When Victor learned the trials he was undergoing, he said:\n\n\u201cMy friend, I fear they are contriving some new plot against you.\nEug\u00e9nie loves you; there is no doubt of that in my mind; but does she\nlove you well enough to withstand all the difficulties that are rising\nup around you? I know not. If, with her knowledge of you, she allows\nherself to be influenced by people of evil intentions, it seems to me\nyou will have a right to judge her severely.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven then I could not,\u201d said Louis.\n\n\u201cYour answer does not surprise me. It proves I was right in my\nimpressions. You love her as much as a good man ought to love. You\neven love her too well; for I believe your affection would render you\ninsensible to the truth rather than blame the object of your love.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is true.\u201d\n\n\u201cI cannot approve of that. It is not right. There is only one\nthing, there is only one Being, a noble and well-balanced soul, a\nsoul thoroughly imbued with piety, allows itself to love above all\nthings\u2014that thing is truth, that Being is God. Believe me, if Eug\u00e9nie\nallows herself to be alienated from you, it will be a proof she has not\nthe worth you give her credit for, and also that it is not the will of\nGod she should become your wife. Well, I will not oppose the indulgence\nyou feel towards her. I consent to it. Say to yourself she has been\ndeceived, that she is innocent, but submit to the divine will. Do not\nattempt impossibilities to link together the chain God himself breaks,\nhowever dear she may be to you.\u201d\n\nVictor seemed to have recalled all the energy of his manly nature to\nutter these words. His firmness and judicious counsel were not lost on\nLouis.\n\n\u201cI will follow your advice,\u201d said he; \u201cbut promise to pray this sorrow\nmay be spared me. God has endowed the one I love with a soul so\nelevated that it would be easy to make her as pious as an angel.... And\nI love her so much!\u201d\n\n\u201cMy poor friend! I do not know that I shall be permitted to pray at\nonce for you in yonder world. If I can, I will pray God you may be\nunited with her, if this union will render you happy\u2014happy, understand\nme, in the Christian sense of the word; that is to say, happy and\nbetter, both of you.\u201d\n\nIn the middle of the night, Victor requested me to go into the\nnext chamber for some papers he wanted. He availed himself of this\nopportunity to recommend me to Louis\u2019 care, as I afterwards learned.\n\n\u201cAgnes,\u201d said he, \u201chas exhausted her strength in taking care of me\nso many months. Her physical and mental strength are now merely\nfactitious. It is the very excess of her grief that sustains her. As\nsoon as I am gone, she will be sensible of her weakness. I fear the\nreaction may prove fatal to her. I implore you to take her and her\nmother to some place near you in the country. Find them a temporary\nresidence that is healthy and pleasant. Change of scene and pure\ncountry air will do her more good than anything else, especially if you\nadd the benefit of your efforts to console her, on which I depend.\u201d\n\nLouis made the required promise.... But these recollections are still\ntoo painful. Alas! they will always be so. You will excuse me from\ndwelling on them.\n\nThe next day, I lost the companion of my life. That pure soul, so full\nof intelligence, sweetness, and energy, took flight for heaven, leaving\nme for ever sad and desolate upon earth.... Oh! how happy are those\nwomen who to the very hour of death are permitted by God to retain the\ncompanionship of a husband tenderly loved, and worthy of being so!...\n\nThe first moments of overpowering grief had scarcely passed before\nthat which Victor had foreseen took place. All at once I lost my\napparent strength. I was weighed down with a dull despair. My poor\nmother trembled for my life. Throughout the day I sat motionless in an\narm-chair, interested in no person or subject. My lips alone made an\neffort from time to time to murmur the words at once so bitter and so\nsweet: \u201cO Lord! thou gavest him to me; thou hast taken him away; thy\nwill be done!\u201d That was my only prayer. I repeated it from morning till\nnight. Thus lifting my soul heavenward, I found strength to resist the\ntemptation to rebel which constantly assailed me.\n\nDuring that sad time, Louis\u2019 sister joined him in unceasing attentions\nto me. Louis gave himself entirely up to my service, and notified Mr.\nSmithson he should be absent several days longer from the manufactory.\nYou can realize how generous this was in him. To absent himself at a\ntime his dearest interests were at stake, and leave the field clear for\nhis enemies, was making an heroic sacrifice to friendship. It was not\ntill a subsequent period I fully appreciated it. At that time, I was\nwholly absorbed in myself. Extreme grief becomes a kind of passion,\nand, like all passions, it renders us selfish.\n\nWhen Louis at last saw me a little calmer, he told me of Victor\u2019s wish.\n\u201cHis last request was,\u201d said he, \u201cthat you should go into the country\nawhile with your mother. The air is purer there, and you will regain\nyour strength.\u201d\n\nI exclaimed against the proposition. I declared I would not leave the\nhouse in which Victor died\u2014where everything recalled his presence.\nLouis insisted, urged on by the physicians, who declared the change\nindispensable.\n\n\u201cVictor himself implores you through me to consent,\u201d said he. \u201cRemember\nyou will be still obeying him in so doing.\u201d\n\nI ended by yielding to their persuasions. \u201cBut where shall I go?\u201d said\nI.\n\n\u201cTo St. M\u2014\u2014, where you will be near me. My sister went there\nyesterday, and found you pleasant lodgings. You can easily go that far\nwith your mother and sister.\u201d\n\nWe went there the next day. It was Louis who made all the arrangements,\nand with how much solicitude and affection I need not say. At length\nhe left us to resume his duties at the mill. The last favor I begged\nof him was to come and see me often, but not to mention to any one\nthe place of my retirement. Like all who are in real affliction,\nsolitude alone pleased me. The first time for a week, Louis\u2019 thoughts,\nafter leaving me, recurred to the subjects that had absorbed his mind\nprevious to Victor\u2019s death. He began to be alarmed. He wondered if\nEug\u00e9nie had not forgotten him, if she really loved him, if Mr. Smithson\nwas disposed to regard him with more or with less favor, and if Albert\nhad not profited by his absence to injure him in the estimation of\nEug\u00e9nie\u2019s family. But he could only form conjectures as to all this.\n\nNow that these events have passed away, I can seize all the details at\na glance. I shall therefore tell you many things Louis was necessarily\nignorant of when he returned to the manufactory. He would have trembled\nhad he been aware of them. He had scarcely left his post in order to\nbe with Victor during his last moments, when his enemies, thinking the\ntime propitious, resolved to profit by his absence to effect his ruin.\nThey all set to work at once.\n\nThe deceitful Adams, who had sought to be enlightened as to his\nreligious doubts, went around telling everybody the engineer had\nconvinced him of the falseness of his religion, which he resolved to\nabjure, and only waited for Louis\u2019 return. People began by laughing at\nwhat he said. They had no great opinion of the fellow. They suspected\nhis connection with Durand, who was regarded with fear. Some even\nthought it was all a trick. But Adams returned to the charge; he spoke\nwith an air of conviction, he seemed changed. To carry out the scheme,\nhe apparently broke off with his former friend, Durand.\n\nAll these things were repeated from one to another till they reached\nMr. Smithson\u2019s ears. He had been obliged to superintend the workmen\nduring Louis\u2019 absence from the manufactory. Already inclined to be\nsuspicious of the engineer, and ignorant of the ties that bound him to\nVictor, Mr. Smithson interiorly accused him of first manifesting an\nultra, I may say, fanatical zeal, and then falling into an indifference\nand carelessness unworthy of a consistent man. \u201cBecause one of his\nfriends is ill,\u201d he said, \u201cis that a sufficient reason for abandoning\nhis post, leaving me overwhelmed with work, and interrupting the\nschool he had begun?... And all this without making any arrangement\nbeforehand!... The man is inconsistent!\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson was therefore unfavorably disposed towards Louis, when, to\ncomplete his dissatisfaction, came the news, at first doubtful, then\ncertain, of Adams\u2019 intended abjuration. He became so angry that he\ncould not contain himself, though generally so capable of self-control.\nThe interests of his national religion were at stake. He at once became\nfurious, and made no effort to conceal it.\n\nMme. Smithson and Albert of course took Mr. Smithson\u2019s part against\nLouis. He was berated as a man of no discretion, deceitful, fanatical,\nand a Jesuit in disguise. Mme. Smithson was one of those people who\nboldly say: \u201cI don\u2019t think much of a person who changes his religion!\u201d\nAs if it were not merely reasonable for a man to give up error for\ntruth when the truth is revealed to him. Albert was influenced by\nmotives you are already aware of. He was triumphant. He had never\nexpected such success from so simple a trick. Circumstances had indeed\nfavored him but too well. Seeing Mr. Smithson in such a frame of mind,\nhe had no doubts of his dismissing Louis as soon as he returned.\n\nBut his joy was strangely diminished by an unexpected incident. They\nwere discussing the affair one evening in the _salon_. \u201cExcuse me,\nfather,\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, \u201cfor meddling with what does not concern me, but\nyou know I always was the advocate of a bad cause.\u201d\n\nEvery one looked up at this unexpected interruption. Eug\u00e9nie was not\na woman to be intimidated when she foresaw opposition: rather, the\ncontrary. She continued, without being troubled in the least: \u201cI find\na great many are disposed to attack M. Louis, but no one thinks of\ndefending him. It were to be wished some one would be his defender,\nthough I do not say his conduct is irreproachable.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery far from that,\u201d said Mr. Smithson.\n\n\u201cBut if he is not innocent, is he as culpable as he may have appeared?\nWhat is he accused of? He has been absent several days from the mill.\nThis adds greatly to your labors, my dear father, but his absence is\njustifiable to a certain degree. Do you know M. Louis\u2019 history?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs well as you, I suppose, child.\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps not.\u201d\n\n\u201cHas he related it to you?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo; Fanny took pains to do that. Fanny is at once curious and a\ngossip.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy cousin is very severe towards so devoted a servant. Is she\nindulgent only to the culpable?\u201d\n\nThis ill-timed interruption gave Eug\u00e9nie a glimpse of light. \u201cThere is\nan understanding between them,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cand that explains\nmany things.\u201d She continued, addressing her father: \u201cM. Louis made\nan attempt at his own life. He was drowning, when a brave man and an\ninvalid\u2014M. Barnier\u2014at the risk of his own life, threw himself into\nthe river, and saved him. This was the origin of their friendship,\nwhich does honor to M. Louis and to the person so devoted to him. This\nM. Barnier is dying to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho told you so, my child?\u201d asked Mr. Smithson.\n\n\u201cThe newspapers from town allude to it. M. Barnier is a well-known man,\nand esteemed by his very enemies themselves. It is to be with him M.\nLouis is gone. Does not such a motive justify his absence?\u201d\n\nMr. Smithson had attentively listened to what his daughter said. If we\nexcept what related to religious subjects, he was an impartial and even\nkindly disposed man. \u201cWith such a reason for his absence,\u201d he replied,\n\u201cI shall cease to regard it as inexcusable. Nevertheless, he ought to\nhave made me aware of what had taken place. He simply said he was going\nto stay with a sick friend: that was not a sufficient explanation. What\nI dislike in the man is his dissimulation.\u201d\n\n\u201cI acknowledge there may be some reason for distrust,\u201d resumed Eug\u00e9nie,\n\u201cbut he has given no proofs of duplicity since he came here that I am\naware of. He certainly has done nothing without consulting you, father.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe did, to be sure, propose several things he wished to do; but did he\nreveal his real aim, his ultimate object?\u201d\n\n\u201cHad he any?\u201d\n\n\u201cHad he any?... The Adams affair proves it. The evening-school and the\nlibrary were only founded to propagate Catholicism.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith what object?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe aim of these enthusiasts is always the same. They wish to impart\ntheir belief to others, that they may afterwards exercise authority\nover their disciples. Louis and the _cur\u00e9_ are linked together. Their\nproject is to make my manufactory like a convent, where they can reign\nin spite of me. But I will settle that matter.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you will do right, uncle,\u201d said Albert. \u201cThere is no tyranny more\nartful and more encroaching than that of the priesthood.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not know my cousin detested the clergy to such a degree,\u201d said\nEug\u00e9nie, with an air of mockery and disdain which convinced Albert\nhe had made a fresh blunder. \u201cI thought, on the contrary, you had a\nsincere respect for priests. It seems I was deceived....\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough on this point,\u201d said Mr. Smithson. \u201cI will see Adams, and\nlearn from him what has occurred. And I will speak to the engineer\naccordingly when he returns.\u201d\n\nThis conversation took place in the evening. Mme. Smithson was present.\nShe did not speak, but was extremely irritated. Eug\u00e9nie little thought\nshe had caused her mother as great an affliction as she had ever\nexperienced in her life. For ten, perhaps fifteen, years, Mme. Smithson\nhad clung to the idea of a match between her daughter and nephew. She\nhad taken comfort in the thought of uniting the two beings she loved\nbest on earth. Besides, it was a good way, and the only one in her\npower, of securing to Albert a fortune he had need of; for the career\nhe had embraced, and the tastes he had imbibed, made it necessary he\nshould be wealthy, which was by no means the case. This plan till\nlately had been confined to Mme. Smithson\u2019s own breast; but, since\nAlbert\u2019s arrival, she had ventured to allude to it in her conversations\nwith him. The latter responded with enthusiastic gratitude, expressing\nan ardent desire to have the proposed union realized. Alas! from the\nbeginning there had been one difficulty which fretted Mme. Smithson.\nWould her husband approve of her scheme? As Albert approached manhood,\nthis consent became more and more doubtful. Mr. Smithson treated his\nnephew kindly, but had no great opinion of him, and did not like him.\nHow overcome this obstacle? There was only one way: Eug\u00e9nie herself\nmust desire the marriage. Mr. Smithson never opposed his daughter,\nand would then overlook his antipathy to the object of her choice.\nThings were having a very different tendency. Mme. Smithson had long\ntried to hide the fact from herself, but she must at last acknowledge\nit: Eug\u00e9nie manifested no partiality for her cousin. This evening\u2019s\noccurrence banished all illusion. She not only saw Eug\u00e9nie had not\nthe least thought of marrying Albert, but she suspected her of loving\nanother, ... a man Mme. Smithson could no longer endure. He had in her\neyes three faults, any one of which would have set her against him:\nhe was her dear nephew\u2019s rival, he had no property, and he was grave\nand pious to a degree that could not fail to be repulsive to a trivial\nwoman and a half-way Christian like her. To complete her despair,\nAlbert came secretly to see her that very same evening.\n\n\u201cAunt,\u201d said he, \u201cour affairs are getting on badly!... Confess that I\nhad more penetration than you were willing to allow.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! what! what do you mean? Do you think Eug\u00e9nie loves that\nspendthrift, that bigot?... Nonsense! she only wishes to tease you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am of a different opinion. I have long been aware of her fancy for\nhim. What she said in his favor this evening was very judicious and\nmoderate, but there was in the tone of her voice, ... in her look, a\nsomething I could not mistake. For the first time, she betrayed her\nfeelings. I tell you she loves him!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, that would be dreadful!\u201d\n\n\u201cI foresaw it.\u201d\n\n\u201cForesaw!\u2014such a thing?\u201d\n\n\u201cEug\u00e9nie is romantic, and the rogue puts on the air of a hero of\nromance.\u201d\n\n\u201cSet your heart at rest, Albert. I promise to watch over your\ninterests. I assure you, in case of need, I will bring your uncle\nhimself to your aid.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will talk to Eug\u00e9nie to-morrow morning,\u201d she said to herself. \u201cI\nshall never believe in such presumption till she confesses it herself.\u201d\n\nThe next morning, Mme. Smithson went, full of anxiety, to her\ndaughter\u2019s chamber. Eug\u00e9nie was that very moment thinking of Louis.\nThe more she examined her own heart, the more clearly she saw herself\nforced to acknowledge her esteem for him. She had inwardly condemned\nhim many times, but had as often found her suspicions were groundless.\nWithout showing the least partiality for Louis, she could not help\nseeing he was intelligent, energetic, and sincerely pious. She even\nacknowledged that, of all the men she had ever met, not one was to be\ncompared to him; he was superior to them all in every respect. From\nthis, it was not a long step to confess him worthy of her affection.\nBut he\u2014did he love her?... Not a word, not a sign, had escaped him\nto indicate such a thing, and yet there was in his bearing towards\nher, in the tone of his voice, and in the value he attached to her\ngood opinion, a something that assured her she had made a profound\nimpression on him. But, then, why this coldness so rigorously\nmaintained?... He was poor\u2014and through his own fault\u2014while she was\nrich. His coldness perhaps resulted from extreme delicacy.\n\nEug\u00e9nie cut short her reflections by repeating: \u201cDoes he love me?... It\nmay be. Do I love him?... I dare not say no. But we are in a peculiar\nposition. If I find him, at the end of the account, worthy of being\nmy husband, doubtless I should have to make the advances! But I like\noriginality in everything. My father alone excites my fears. M. Louis\nwould not be his choice. Why does he show himself so zealous a Catholic\nat present? Why not wait till he is married\u2014if married we ever are?\nThen he could be as devoted to the church as he pleases.\u201d\n\nMme. Smithson was hardly to be recognized when she entered her\ndaughter\u2019s room. She was generally affable and smiling, but now her\nface was lowering and agitated. She was evidently very nervous, as\nwas usually the case when she had some disagreeable communication to\nmake to her daughter. Eug\u00e9nie at once divined what was passing in her\nmother\u2019s heart. She was careful, however, not to aid her in unburdening\nherself.\n\nAfter speaking of several things of no importance, Mme. Smithson\nassumed an unconcerned air\u2014a sign of her extreme embarrassment\u2014and\nbroached the subject with a boldness peculiar to timid people when they\nsee there is no way of receding.\n\n\u201cI must confess that was a strange notion of yours last evening.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat notion do you refer to, mother?\u201d said Eug\u00e9nie, in a tone at once\ndignified and ingenuous. She felt the storm was coming. As usual on\nsuch occasions, she laid aside the familiar _thou_ for the respectful\n_you_. There was a spice of mischief in her tactics which I do not\nintend to applaud. She thus redoubled her mother\u2019s embarrassment, and\nby the politeness of her manner increased her hesitation.\n\n\u201cWhat notion do I refer to?... You need not ask that. You know\nwell enough what I allude to.... Yes; why should you, without any\nobligation, set yourself up to defend a man who is no relation of ours\nor even one of our friends, but a mere employ\u00e9 of your father\u2019s; one\nwho suits him certainly, but who is likely to cause trouble in the\nhouse; ... who is, in short, a dangerous man?...\u201d\n\n\u201cYou astonish me to the last degree, mother! I never, no, never should\nhave suspected M. Louis of dangerous designs, or that he even had the\npower to disturb us.\u201d\n\n\u201cRaillery, my dear, is in this case quite out of place. What secret\nmotive have you for undertaking his defence?\u201d\n\n\u201cI? I have none. What motive could I have?\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, why take sides against us?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy, I have not taken sides against you!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can you deny it?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do deny it, mother, with your permission. My father imputed\nintentions to M. Louis which perhaps he never had. I merely observed it\nwould be more just to wait for proofs before condemning him. That is\nall, and a very small affair.\u201d\n\n\u201cWait for proofs before condemning him, do you say?... Well, he has\nthem. Adams has confessed everything.... He acknowledges that M. Louis\nendeavored to convert him, lent him books, taught him the catechism,\nand, what was worse, dwelt a great deal on hell as a place he could\nnot fail to go to if he, Adams, remained a Protestant. The poor fellow\nhas not recovered from his terror yet!... Your father has talked to\nhim very kindly, given him good advice, mingled with kind reproaches.\nAdams was affected, and ended by saying he never wished to see M. Louis\nagain; and he did a lucky thing!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt seems to me that Adams is either a simpleton or a hypocrite.\u201d\n\n\u201cEug\u00e9nie, that is altogether too much!\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not see anything very astonishing in what I have said. Please\nlisten to me a moment, mother. To hesitate between two creeds, without\nbeing able to decide on either, seems to me a proof of weakness. But\nif, on the contrary, Adams invented this story of his conversion in\norder to yield at a favorable moment and gain the good-will of my\nfather more than ever, would not this show a duplicity and artfulness\nthat could only belong to a hypocrite?...\u201d\n\n\u201cAdams could not have invented such a thing. It would have rendered him\nliable to dismissal.\u201d\n\n\u201cI beg your pardon, mother. Adams did not risk anything. The course he\nhas taken proves it. And that is precisely what makes me distrust him.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow can you impute such motives to anybody!... Adams has renounced his\nintention, because he was convinced by your father\u2019s arguments. He has\nbehaved like an honest man!\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me, mother; we are in more danger than ever of not\nunderstanding each other. Why! you seem to rejoice that Adams has\nreturned to his errors! You appear to think his course very natural,\nand to approve of it!\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, I do approve of it; people ought not to change their religion.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou might as well say a person ought not to acknowledge his error when\nhe is mistaken. I am by no means of your opinion, though I am not very\nreligious.\u201d\n\n\u201c_A propos_ of religion, my dear, you seem to have taken a strange\nturn. You have grown so rigorous as to astonish me; there is not\nan ultra notion you do not approve of. You have completely changed\nsince.... But I will not make you angry.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince M. Louis came here?... A pretty idea. But I am not surprised.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou said it yourself, but it is true. Since that man came here, you\nhave changed every way. I know not why or wherefore, but it is a fact.\nYour cousin himself has observed it, and it grieves him. You are no\nlonger towards him as you once were. You keep him at a distance. You\nare not lively as you used to be. You only talk of things serious\nenough to put one asleep.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is nearly ten years since I was brought in such close contact with\nmy cousin as now. I was very young then. I have grown older and more\nsensible. Why has not he done the same?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour sarcasm is malicious and unmerited. Albert is a charming fellow.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh! I agree with you! But this very fact injures him in my estimation.\nA charming fellow is one who requires an hour to dress; is skilled in\npaying a multitude of compliments he does not mean; has a petty mind\nthat only takes interest in trifles; in short, a useless being it is\nimpossible to rely on. When Albert came, he seemed to be conscious\nof the absurdity of being a charming fellow. He tried to put on a\nsemblance of gravity, but it did not last long. Once more the proverb\nheld good: _Chasser le naturel, il revient au galop_.\u201d[197]\n\n\u201cWonderful, my dear. You have every qualification for a _d\u00e9vote_:\nespecially one characteristic\u2014maliciousness. Poor Albert! how you have\nset him off! Happily, there is not a word of truth in all you have\nsaid. He a man on whom you cannot rely! He has a heart of gold.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not dispute the goodness of his heart. I have never put it to the\nproof.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a wicked insinuation! How dreadful it is to always believe the\nworst of everybody.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, let it be so: he has a kind heart!... But is there any depth to\nhim?\u201d\n\n\u201cAs much as is necessary. This would be a sad world if we were always\nobliged to live with moody people like some one I know of. I really\nbelieve he is your beau ideal.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not say that; but, if he is really what he appears to be, he\nmerits my good opinion. I wish all I live with resembled him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell done! A little more, and you will tell me he is the realization\nof all your dreams.\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know him well enough to accord him all your words seem to\nimply.\u201d\n\n\u201cAt all events, you know him well enough to take an interest in him,\nand much more than would suit your father.... Your cousin even was\nscandalized at your daring to defend him against your father, who had\ngood reason to blame him.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy cousin would do well to attend to his own affairs, and not meddle\nwith mine. If he came here to watch me, sneer at me, and give me\nadvice, he had better have remained in Paris.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe came here hoping to find the friend of his childhood glad to see\nhim, and ready to show him the affection he merits. Everybody does not\njudge him as severely as you do. I know many girls who....\u201d\n\n\u201cWho would be glad to marry him! Well, they may have him!\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is too much! The son of my sister whom I love with all my heart!\nA child whom I brought up and love almost as much as I do you!\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, mother, I am not displeased because you love him. I do not\ndislike him. I wish him well, and would do him all the good in my\npower. But when I make choice of a husband, I shall choose one with\nqualities Albert will never possess.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have suspected it for a long time. Yes; I thought long ago, seeing\nthe turn your mind was taking, that, when you married, it would be\nfoolishly.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean by foolishly?\u201d\n\n\u201cMarrying a man without property, or one with eccentric notions, or\nsome prosy creature of more or less sincerity. I am very much afraid\nyou are infatuated about an individual who has all these defects\ncombined. Fortunately.... You understand me....\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, mother?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes; we shall watch over your interests, your father and I, and if\nyou are disposed to make a foolish match, like one that occurs to me,\nwe shall know how to prevent it. We shall not hesitate if obliged to\nrender you happy in spite of yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cRender me happy?... At all events, it would not be by forcing me to\nmarry Albert.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnyhow, you shall marry no one else.... It is I who say so, and your\nfather will show you he is of my opinion.\u201d\n\nUpon this, Mme. Smithson went out, violently shutting the door after\nher. Like all people of weak character, she must either yield or fall\ninto a rage. It was beyond her ability to discuss or oppose anything\ncalmly.\n\nIt was all over! All her plans were overthrown! She must bid farewell\nto her dearest hopes! She must no longer think of retaining Albert\nand sending for his mother\u2014for Mme. Smithson\u2019s desires went as\nfar as that! Her dream was to unite the two families by marrying\nEug\u00e9nie and Albert. Instead of that, what a perspective opened before\nher!\u2014a marriage between her daughter and Louis, which roused all her\nantipathies at once! She was beside herself at the bare thought of\nseeing herself connected with a son-in-law she could not endure, and\nwho was no less repulsive to Mr. Smithson.... Her maternal heart was\nkind when no one contradicted her, but there was in its depths, as\noften happens in weak natures, a dash of spitefulness. Having returned\nto her chamber, Mme. Smithson began to reflect. She seldom gave herself\nup to reflection, and then only when she was troubled, as is the case\nwith some people. As might be supposed, she was too excited to reflect\nadvantageously.\n\n\u201cOh! oh!\u201d she said to herself, \u201cEug\u00e9nie dares resist me the only time I\never asked her to obey! She despises Albert. She speaks scornfully of\nhim! And that is not sufficient: she carries her audacity so far as to\nsing the praises of a man I detest!... See what it is to be indulgent\nto one\u2019s children! The day comes when, for a mere caprice, they tread\nunder foot what was dearest to you.... Well, since she will do nothing\nfor me, I will do nothing for her.... She rejects Albert. I will have\nthe other one driven away.... Since that meddler came, everything has\ngone wrong here.... What a nuisance that man is! If he had not come\nhere, everything would have gone on as I wished.... I will go in search\nof my husband. It will be easy to have the engineer sent off, after\ncommitting so many blunders. When he is gone, we shall have to endure\nmy daughter\u2019s ill-humor, but everything comes to an end in this world.\nThe time will come when, realizing her folly, Eug\u00e9nie will listen to\nreason.\u201d\n\nThe interview between Mr. Smithson and his wife took place a little\nwhile after. What was said I never knew. Mme. Smithson alluded to it\nonce or twice at a later day, but merely acknowledged she did very\nwrong. The remembrance was evidently painful, and she said no more.\n\nEug\u00e9nie at once foresaw this private interview between her parents. The\nconversation she had just had with her mother only served to enlighten\nher more fully as to the state of her feelings. Forced to express her\nopinion of Albert and Louis, she had spoken from her heart. She was\nherself in a measure astonished at seeing so clearly she did not love\nAlbert\u2014that there was a possibility of loving Louis\u2014that perhaps\nshe already loved him.... And she also comprehended more clearly all\nthe difficulties such an attachment would meet with. Her mother\u2019s\nopposition had hitherto been doubtful. It was now certain, and the\nconsequence was to be feared.\n\n\u201cMy mother is so much offended,\u201d she said to herself, \u201cthat she will\ntry to unburden her mind to my father at once, and perhaps influence\nhim against me. Before the day is over, she will tell him all I said,\nand the thousand inferences she has drawn from it. This interview fills\nme with alarm! I wish I knew what they will decide upon, if they come\nto any decision....\u201d\n\nEug\u00e9nie tried in vain to get some light on the point, but was not able\nto obtain much. The interview took place. Mr. Smithson seemed vexed and\nthoughtful after his wife left the office. Mme. Smithson went directly\nto give the porter orders to send the engineer to her husband as soon\nas he arrived. Louis had sent word the evening before he should return\nthe following day.\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nSONNET.\n\nTHE RUINS OF EMANIA (NEAR ARMAGH).\n\nBY AUBREY DE VERE.\n\n\n  Why seek we thus the living \u2018mid the dead?\n  Beneath yon mound\u2014within yon circle wide\u2014\n  Emania\u2019s palace, festive as a bride\n  For centuries six, had found its wormy bed\n  When Patrick lifted here his royal head,\n  And round him gazed. Perhaps the Apostle sighed\n  Even then, to note the fall of mortal pride\u2014\n  Full fourteen hundred years since then have fled!\n  Then, too, old Ulster\u2019s hundred kings were clay;\n  Then, too, the Red Branch warriors slept forlorn;\n  Autumn, perhaps, as now, a pilgrim gray,\n  Her red beads counted on the berried thorn,\n  Making her rounds; while from the daisied sod\n  The undiscountenanced lark upsoared, and praised her God.\n\n\n\n\nAPPEAL TO WORKINGMEN.\n\nFROM THE FRENCH OF LEON GAUTIER IN THE REVUE DU MONDE CATHOLIQUE.\n\nDISCOURSE PRONOUNCED JANUARY 13, 1873, TO INAUGURATE THE LECTURES\nINTENDED FOR THE WORKING-CLASSES.[198]\n\n\nTO-DAY we inaugurate the lectures specially consecrated to workingmen.\nWe are full of joyous hopes, and believe that this work of light\nwill be at the same time a work of reconciliation, of love, and of\npeace. The cross, which we have placed conspicuously in all our places\nof reunion\u2014the cross, that we elevate and display everywhere as a\nmagnificent standard\u2014the cross, that we will never consent to hide,\nindicates clearly what is our faith and what is our aim. We wish to\nenlighten your understandings, dilate your hearts, direct your wills\nin the way of the good, the beautiful, and the true. In a word, we\nwish to conquer you for Christ, and we say it here with a frankness\nwhich profoundly abhors all cunning of speech. You will give us credit\nfor sincerity, which you have always loved; for, as has been said by\na great contemporary orator,[199] \u201cThe people are not deceived; they\nfeel when they are approached with faith in them and in their eminent\ndignity.\u201d\n\nWe come, then, to you with this cross of Constantine, which has\nconverted the world. This glorious sign we have surrounded with rays,\nto show you that light proceeds from Christianity, as the stream flows\nfrom its source, and the beams radiate from a star. If possible, we\nwould have adopted as a flag the beautiful cross in the catacomb of\nS. Pontian, from which spring roses\u2014symbols of joy. We would have\nchosen it, to show you that in Christ is found not only the repose of\nthe enlightened understanding, but also the repose, the joy, and the\nalleluia of the satisfied heart. It is by this sign we will conquer.\n\nIn this first lecture, which will serve as an humble preface to the\ndiscourses of so many eminent orators, we intend only to take up the\nworking question, to tell you our entire thought on the subject,\nto open to you our whole heart. Do not hope to hear an academic\nspeech; do not expect those vain compliments to which you have been\naccustomed from flatterers who did not love you. We say at first and\nwithout circumlocution that between Christian society and the working\nworld there exists to-day a certain misunderstanding, and it is this\nmisunderstanding we would wish to dissipate, and we beg of the divine\nWorkman of Nazareth to direct our words, blessed by him, to the\nunderstanding and heart of the workmen of Paris.\n\nIn the first part of this discourse, which will be brief, we will say\nwhat we are; in the second, what we wish; and in the third, we will\nreply to certain objections to the church which are current among\nworkingmen, and cause the deplorable misunderstanding from which we\nwish to deliver your minds and hearts, equally oppressed. It is time\nthat the truth should free you.\n\n\nI.\n\nIn order that you may better understand what we are, we wish to\ncommence by showing you what we are not.\n\nWe are not politicians; this we desire to declare openly. Never, never\nwill there be pronounced in this precinct one word that may even\nremotely touch upon our old or recent discords. We will never deserve\nto be called partisans. Whatever may be our intimate convictions (and\nwe have the right to have them), we only wish to be and we will only\nbe Christians. We suppose there may be in the bosom of all the avowed\nparties sincere Catholics who are by no means _independents_. When we\ntread upon the threshold of her basilicas, the church, which rises\nbefore us, does not ask if we are monarchists or republicans, but only\nif we believe in the eternal Word, who created heaven and earth, who\nbecame man in the crib of Bethlehem, and who saved us on a cross. Thus\nwill we do, and the only popular song you will hear in this place will\nbe the Credo; come, come, and sing it with us.\n\nThank God, we do not belong to the group, too numerous, of pretended\nconservatives, who only see in the labor question a painful\npreoccupation which might trouble the calm of their digestion; who do\nnot wish to impose upon themselves any real sacrifice, and are easily\nastonished that the working-classes complain of their sufferings. We\nare not like the fashionable and delicate egoists who for several\ncenturies have given the fatal example of indifference, of doubt,\nand of negation in religion, who have followed Voltaire, who have\nwickedly laughed in the face of outraged truth, who have torn God from\nthe heart of the workman, and who nevertheless persist in affirming\nthat \u201creligion is good for the people\u201d\u2014men of refinement, who to-day\nedit journals full of talent, where on the first page is offered\nultra-conservative articles, and on the second ultra-obscene romances.\nNo; we are not of this class. Away with those sceptics whose fears make\nthem pretend to have the faith! Away with those who doubt the people,\nand who do not love them!\n\nWe are not of those who are led to you by this vile fear or by a still\nviler interest; we are not of those who see in you an armed force\nbefore which they must tremble, or an electoral majority before whom\nthey must kneel. We will never come to solicit your votes, and we are\nbent upon serving you with absolute disinterestedness. Briefly, we are\nfor you and will always be your friends and servants, but will never\ncondescend to court you. Besides, the victory which we desire is not\nthat which can be gained by force, consequently we do not count on\nforce. We only wish to win your understandings with our faith, your\nhearts with our love.\n\nWe do not place the golden age in a past too superstitiously loved.\nWhatever affection I may feel in my heart for those dear middle ages,\nto which I have consecrated all my studies and all my life, I do not\nfind them sufficiently Christian to be the only ideal. We know that\nthose centuries, so differently judged, were the theatre of a gigantic\nstruggle between paganism, more and more conquered, and the church,\nmore and more victorious; and we draw a fundamental distinction\nbetween the chivalry that so heroically defended the truth and the\nfeudality that did it such injury. We do not ignore the fact that\npaganism, in dying, left to the Christian ages, as a frightful legacy,\nthe traditions of slavery, impurity, and violence; and we confess that\nChristianity could not in one day decapitate the hundred-headed hydra.\n\nIf we regard especially the workmen\u2019s guilds or corporations, we will\ngo so far as to own that their organization, so admirably Christian\nin some respects, nevertheless left too much room for certain abuses\nthat we hate; and, as a decisive example, we assert that the material\ncondition of the members was not then what a Christian heart would wish\nto-day. We have the religion, not the superstition, of the middle ages;\nof that epoch so unworthily calumniated we preserve all the elements\ntruly Christian, and reject the others. We recognize in that rude and\nlaborious age the dawn, the beautiful dawn, of Catholic civilization\nso scandalously interrupted by the Renaissance. In those centuries, so\nslighted and misunderstood, we salute above all the cycle of the saints.\n\nWe ardently love the sublime period when S. Benedict gave to a hundred\nthousand men and to twenty generations the order and signal to clear\nthe minds and the fields, equally sterile; when S. Francis conversed\nwith the birds of the air, reconciled all nature with humanity\nChristianized, and gave to his contemporaries the love of \u201cour lady,\npoverty!\u201d We love the period made joyful by the death of slavery under\nthe font of the church; when all the institutions of the state and of\nthe family were energetically Catholic; when royalty was represented by\na S. Louis, love by a S. Elizabeth, science by a S. Thomas of Aquinas.\nBut our soul has still stronger wings, and would fly still higher. We\nwish still more, we wish still better, and we will build up the future\nwith two kinds of materials\u2014with the past undoubtedly, but also with\nour desires, which are vast.\n\nWe are not of those who ingenuously think the world at present is\norganized as one would wish. Doubtless there are in the working-class\nof our time illegitimate desires, guilty jealousies, unrighteous\nthirsts; but we also know all that the world of laborers can offer to\nthe eyes of God, of cruel sufferings, of noble sighs, and of honest\ntears. God preserve us from ever laughing at one of those griefs,\neven should they be merited! On the contrary, we hope that Christian\nsociety will one day come, through peace and prayer, the sacraments and\nlove, to a better disposition, a more profound pacification, a happier\ndistribution of riches, a wider-spread prosperity, and to something\nmore resembling the reign of God. But, alas! we are convinced that\nthe definitive repartition and equality will only be consummated in\neternity. Those who do not believe in a future life will never see\ntheir desire of infinite justice satisfied\u2014they condemn themselves to\nthis punishment.\n\nWe do not despise the work of the hands; far from it, we seek to\nplace the mechanic close to the artist. For centuries, there have\nbeen Pyrenees between art and industry; these Pyrenees we wish to\nremove, and we will succeed. In truth, the workman is an august being;\nand the title of his nobility will be easily found in the depths of\nfaith and of theology. Listen: the eternal type, the adorable type,\nof the workman is the Heavenly Father, the _Faber divinus_, who, not\ncontent with making obedient matter spring from nothing, like a\nsublime goldsmith chiselled it into a splendid jewel. Beauty, Goodness,\npersonal and living Truth\u2014such, to the letter, was the first Workman.\nGod joined, framed, hewed, cemented, carved the whole universe, the\nfirmament, the stars. His gracious and magnificent hand, armed with an\ninvisible chisel, is discovered in every part of the creation which\nhas been wonderfully sculptured by this marvellous Workman. Workmen\nof every condition, here contemplate the work of your Model, of your\nMaster, of your divine Patron. The sombre forests, the transparent\nfoliage, the flowers whose wonders are only revealed by the microscope,\nthe mountains, the ocean, the infinite depths\u2014all, all were made by\nthe great Workman.\n\nIncomparable Artificer! he conceived the plan of all these beings in\nHis eternal Word, and one day, to realize this design, he pronounced\nthese words: \u201cBe they!\u201d and they were. But it was not enough to show\nhimself the workman; God feared, if I may be allowed so to speak, that\nhis calling might be despised; and he desired so truly to be a workman\nthat of a God he made himself a carpenter as well as man. He chose a\nnoble position, perfectly characteristic, and, with his divine hands,\nsawed, planed, polished, worked the wood that in the first hour of\nthe world he had worked in the design of the creation. Workmen, my\nbrethren, it is not a fable, it is not a symbol: Jesus, the Son of God,\nwas the apprentice, the companion, the workman, the carpenter; and the\nvenerable monuments of tradition show him to us making ploughs, perhaps\ncrosses. What can I not say to you of the Holy Ghost, considered as\nthe Workman of the spiritual world, which he had really cemented,\nhewed, and framed? What can I not explain of the beautiful realities\nof symbolism? With regret I leave this workshop of the church, and now\ncontent myself with the workshop of the creation, and with that of\nNazareth.\n\nBut you question me more earnestly, and ask what I think of the\ncontemporary workman. And I reply that, notwithstanding his faults and\nerrors, I feel for him a great love, invincibly aroused by Christ. Yes;\nI close my eyes, I abstract myself. I forget so many ignoble flames, so\nmuch blood, the pure blood so sacrilegiously shed. I wish to separate\nmy thoughts from so many ruins, so many scandals. I come to you, pagan\nworkman, rebellious to God, and, in the midst of your rebellious and\nSatanic orgies, I approach you, who formerly were baptized, and place\nmy hand upon your heart, that I may not despair. Your mind is darkened,\nyour will misled; but there are yet some pulsations which allow me\nstill to hope, and I willingly repeat the words of that great bishop\nwho has devoted so much time to the social question: \u201cThe people love\nthat which is beautiful, they understand what is great; know that they\nhave high aspirations, and that they seek to rise.\u201d And again: \u201cThe\nworkman of our day has eliminated the generous ideas from the Gospel,\nand yet borrows from Christianity his noble and holy sentiments.\u201d\n\nNothing is truer; if chemistry could analyze souls, what Christian\nelements would be found in those of workmen! I readily see in each the\nadmirable material of one of those poor men so powerfully sketched\nby Victor Hugo. He speaks of a miserable fisherman on the sea-shore,\nwho already has five children, perishing from hunger; when one day at\nmarket, he sees and adopts two orphans poorer than he, and thus he\nreasons: \u201cWe have five children, these will make seven; we will mingle\nthem together, and they will climb at night on our knees. They will\nlive, and will be brother and sister to the five others. When God sees\nthat we must feed this little boy and this little girl with the others,\nhe will make us catch more fish, that is all!\u201d Workmen of Paris, read\nthese lines; they are worth more than those of the _Ann\u00e9e terrible_,\nand paint you exactly. You are capable of this sublime devotion, and I\nrecall you to the true nobility of your nature.\n\nYou know now what we are not, and I think that we have never failed for\nan instant to be truly sincere. On the contrary, we have designedly\nmultiplied all the difficulties with perfect frankness. It is scarcely\nnecessary to add that we are not of those who disdain the social and\nlabor questions, and who, while hiding themselves in the graceful\ndomain of fancy, repeat with Alfred de Musset:\n\n  \u201cIf two names by chance mingle in my song,\n  They will always be Ninette or Ninon.\u201d\n\nThis charming indifference is but a form of selfishness. Let us go\nfurther, and although in our quality of Catholics (the only nobility,\nthe only title to which we are really attached) we place a higher\nestimate on the future life than the present, we do not think only of\nthe heavenly destiny of the workman. For more than eighteen hundred\nyears, the church has not ceased for an instant to occupy herself with\nthe temporal condition of all the working-classes. In her firmament,\nthere are fourteen magnificent constellations, which are called the\nseven corporal works of mercy, and the seven spiritual. She has made\nthem all shine on the brow of the workman, and it is for him, above\nall, that she preserves the light. This example of our mother, the\nchurch, we always wish to imitate. We know, besides, and it is a\npowerful argument, that misery is a poor counsellor, and, if it is\nbadly accepted, turns souls from duty and eternity.\n\nTherefore, we declare a mortal war against want and misery, and it is\nthus that, in ameliorating the earth, we hope to prepare heaven.\n\nWe wish at this moment our heart were an open book, written in large\ncharacters, and readable for all. Our brothers, the workmen, would see\nthat we do not blindly accuse them of all the crimes and mistakes of\nmodern society, and that we very well know how to comment severely on\nthe other classes. They would there read the programme of our work,\nas recently sketched by a great bishop of the holy church: \u201cWe should\nbelieve in the people, hope in them, love them.\u201d For you must not\nimagine that alms will here suffice, and that the people will accept\nthem; they exact all our heart, our esteem, our respect. He who does\nnot respect the workman can do nothing. Thus, this doctrine of respect\nfor the workman, the truly Christian doctrine, is the base upon which\nthe Catholic Circle of Workingmen has erected its edifice: may God\nprosper and bless it!\n\nAsk us now with frankness what we are, what is our faith, and listen\nwell to our reply, which will not be less sincere.\n\nWe believe in one only God, the supreme and sovereign Workman, whom we\ndo not confound with his work; the work is divine, but it is not God.\nBeyond the world, above the world, in an inaccessible region, lives\nand reigns from everlasting to everlasting the majesty of God, the\nInfinite and Absolute, the Justice and Mercy, the Good, the True, and\nthe Beautiful, living and personal, the eternal Providence, who watches\nover the workmen of all races and of all times. There are among you\nsome who refuse to this God the free adhesion of their faith, and it is\nthis negation which we come here to combat with the arms of reason and\nof light. All depends upon your faith; even though you may be atheists,\nwe will love you, but, alas! you will not return our love, and the\nreconciliation so ardently desired will not be easily realized; for you\ncan only be dissolved in love, and God is love.\n\nWe believe, then, in God the Creator, and we bow before him with\nthe simple and magnificent faith of the humble stone-cutter of whom\nLamartine speaks, and who one day said to our great poet, \u201cI do not\nknow how other men are made; but, as for me, I cannot see, I do not say\na star, but even an ant, the leaf of a tree, a grain of sand, without\nasking who made it; and the reply is, God. I understand it well, for,\nbefore being, it was not; therefore, it could not make itself.\u201d I\nquote these beautiful words with great joy under the roof of a chapel\nespecially consecrated to workmen. Meditate upon them, workmen, who\nlisten to me; and, if you are republicans, respect, love, believe in\nwhat this republican of 1848 respected, loved, and believed. Then the\nworkman believed in God; this time must return, and for this necessary\nwork we will expend our time, our strength, our life. But it is not\nenough to believe in God; we must render to the Creator the act of the\ncreature, and offer him respect, homage, confidence, prayer, and love.\nBlessed be this little chapel of _J\u00e9sus-Ouvrier_, if this night one of\nthese sentiments will be offered by one of the souls who are here and\nlisten to me.\n\nWe also believe in the Son of God, the Word, the interior Speech,\nthe creative Word of the Father, and we affirm that this Word, at a\ndetermined moment of history, came down on our earth that sin had\nstained, and that had to be purified. To arrive at God, who is absolute\npurity, we must be white or whitened. Are we white of ourselves? Look\ninto your souls, and answer. Christ, then, came to suffer, to expiate,\nto die for us all, and especially for all workmen, past, present, and\nto come. Such is the admirable doctrine of the solidarity of expiation;\nand it is here that Jesus is again the type of workmen. Oh! who can\ncomplain of work, when God for thirty years submitted to the rigorous\nlaw of manual labor! Who can complain of suffering, when he bore the\nweight of all the sufferings of the body and of the human soul! Who\ncan complain of loneliness and abandonment, when this God was betrayed\nby his tenderest friends, and abandoned by all except his mother, who\nremained standing at the foot of the cross! Who can complain of dying\nin solitude, in grief, and in shame, on the pallet of a garret or the\nbed of a hospital, when he, the Creator of so many millions of suns and\nof the universe, gave us the example of the most cruel death, after\nhaving offered us as model the most wretched life! Ah! they had reason\nto decree the suppression of the crucifix in the hospitals and schools;\nfor a true workman cannot look at the crucifix without being moved to\nthe bottom of his soul, without extending to it his arms, without being\nprofoundly consoled, without crying, \u201cBehold my Master, my Example, and\nmy Father!\u201d\n\nWe believe that Christianity is contained in these words, which we\nshould ponder: \u201cImitation of Christ,\u201d and, in particular, \u201cImitation\nof Jesus the workman.\u201d It is by that means we will be led to give\na place to private virtues, which our adversaries do not wish to\naccord to us. Nowadays it is fashionable among workmen and others to\nrepeat this ill-sounding proposition, which is an exact summary of\nVictor Hugo\u2019s last work: that \u201cSociety is bad, and man is good.\u201d Do\nnot believe it; man is an intelligent, free, responsible being, who\ncan, when he wishes, and with the aid of God, conquer the evil in\nhim, and do good. As society is only a composition of men, it follows\nand will ever be that, if each one of us becomes purer, more humble,\nmore charitable, better, society will itself become less savage,\nmore enlightened, better organized, every way improved. In political\neconomy, we cannot too highly exalt the _r\u00f4le_ of private virtues.\n\nIt can be demonstrated mathematically, and it will soon be shown, that\neverything socially springs from sacrifice. If you wish to know here\nwhat distinguishes the Catholics from their enemies, I will tell you\nvery simply that they place duty before right, and that the enemies of\nthe church place right before duty. Certainly, we believe in right as\nstrongly as you can; but we make it the logical consequence and, if I\nmay say so, the reward of accomplished duty. Weigh well this doctrine,\nto which is attached the destiny of the world.\n\nFinally, we believe in the life everlasting. Doubtless it is to be\ndesired that all men should make every effort for the reign of justice\non this earth; in this, the Catholics have not been wanting, nor ever\nwill be. But whatever may be the legitimate beauty of these attempts,\nI think that the perfection of ideal justice will only be found in the\nfuture life, and that, to make the definitive balance of the fate of\neach man, heaven must always enter in the calculation. Here below there\nare too many inconsolable sorrows, more suffering than social equality\ncan ever suppress. Alas! there will always be the passions that ravage\nthe heart; always ingratitude and abandonment; always sickness and\nthe death of those whom we love best. Paradise of my God! you will\nre-establish the equilibrium; paradise of my God! if you are, above\nall, destined for those who have suffered, you will be assuredly opened\nto workmen. In this hope I live.\n\nAnd here I am led to recapitulate, not without emotion, all the\nbenefits that Providence has more especially reserved for you. \u201cA\nheavenly Father, who merits above all the title of workman, and who\nmade the earth; a God, who comes on earth to take up the plane, the\nsaw, and the hammer, and become the prototype of workmen; an infallible\nchurch that for eighteen hundred years has bent over workmen, to\nenlighten, console, and love them; an eternity of happiness, where all\npresent injustice will be superabundantly repaired.\u201d\n\nWorkmen, my brethren, what can you ask further? In the place of God,\nwhat could you make better? Answer.\n\n\nII.\n\nWhat do we wish, however? In other words, what can we promise you?\n\nFirst of all, there are twenty promises we cannot make you, and it is\nour duty here to warn you of our _non possumus_.\n\nWe cannot promise you ever to consider armed revolt as a duty or a\nright. We cling with all the strength of our understanding to the\ndoctrine that even against injustice the protest should be martyrdom,\nheroically accepted, heroically submitted. Thus did the first\nChristians; they allowed themselves to be slaughtered like beautiful\nsheep, covered with generous blood. This sublimely passive resistance\nwill not take from us, as it never did from them, the liberty of\nspeech; they died declaring their belief in God, the supreme Principle,\nand in the Son of God, the sovereign Expiator. And when fifteen or\neighteen millions had been killed, the church triumphed; she then came\nforth from the catacombs, and to her was given the mission to enlighten\nthe world.\n\nWe do not promise you the liberty of doing evil, and it would be false\nif we even appeared to make such an engagement. At this instant, there\nare five hundred men in France who pervert, corrupt, putrefy France;\namong these are four hundred and ninety writers and ten caricaturists;\naccording to our idea, it is deplorable that they can freely exercise\ntheir trade, and destroy with impunity so many millions of souls among\nyoung girls, young men, and workmen.\n\nWe cannot with sincerity promise you absolute equality on this earth.\nWhat we can promise you hereafter is that beautiful equality of\nChristians who are sprung from the same God-Creator, saved by the\nsame God-Redeemer, enlightened by the same God-Illuminator. It is the\nequality, the profound equality, of baptism and the eucharist; the\nequality of souls in trials and reward; it is, in fine, equality in\nheaven. As for the other, we will exhaust ourselves in the effort to\nobtain it; but we have two obstacles before us, over which we do not\nhope to triumph\u2014sickness and vice. No equality is possible with these\ntwo scourges, and they are ineradicable. We cannot promise you either\nillegitimate pleasure or even the end of suffering. In taking suffering\nfrom man\u2014which is impossible\u2014they would take from him his resemblance\nto God, and consequently his true greatness and his titles to heaven.\nThe more we suffer, the more we resemble our Father, the more we merit\neternal joy. In suffering will be found the Christian principle, which\nwe cannot efface from the Gospel, and which is even the essence of\nthe Christian life. But we promise to suffer with you, and, as the\nchurch has done for eighteen hundred years, to alleviate your sorrows,\nto heal your wounds, to satisfy your material and moral hunger, and\nto quench your thirst for truth. The fathers of the church invite us\nonly to consider ourselves as \u201cdepositaries of riches.\u201d All property\nis but a deposit in our hands\u2014a deposit which we are strictly obliged\nto communicate to you, and for which we must render an account to the\nMaster.\n\nWe promise you also faith, which gives to the soul a noble attribute\nand a happy tranquillity. And with faith we can give you what has\nbeen well called the _intelligence of life_\u2014the intelligence thanks\nto which the workman knows how to accept inequality, because he sees\nin the horizon the beautiful perspective of eternity. We promise you\ncalmness in certainty, the consolation that every workman can feel\nin regarding his divine type; and, in giving you this type, you will\npossess a rare treasure, for which your souls are justly eager.\n\nWe promise you the sweetness of work Christianly accepted. Says a\ngreat Christian: \u201cWhat matters work when Jesus Christ is there?\u201d It is\nhere that we must recall those splendid verses of the greatest of our\npoets\u2014those verses which we would wish to see written on the walls\nof all our transfigured workshops: \u201cGod, look you\u2014let the senseless\nreject\u2014causes to be born of labor two daughters: Virtue which makes\ncheerfulness sweet, and Cheerfulness which makes virtue charming.\u201d And\nwith work, you will conquer also the \u201ccourage of life\u201d; for you will be\nconvinced that all beings are subjected to this great law, and that the\nblows of your hammers are the notes of a universal chant. \u201cAll work,\neach one is at his post; he who governs the state; the savant, who\nextends the limits of human explorations; the sculptor, who makes the\nstatue spring from his chisel; the poet, who sings between his tears\nand his sighs; the priest, who punishes and pardons\u2014all, down to you,\npoor workman, in your smoky workshop. We are all living stones of that\ncathedral formed of souls and of centuries for the glory of God.\u201d[200]\nWith such thoughts, the day appears short, and labor assumes an\nexquisite character. What joy to say, \u201cI work with the entire universe;\nI work as God himself has set me the example.\u201d\n\nStill further, we promise you honor and pride. The Christian workman,\nhe whom we hope to see multiplied in Paris, loves his trade; he is\nproud of it, and would blush if he did not prefer it to all others. He\ncontemplates with satisfaction the work which he has just accomplished,\nand, like the Creator, with innocent simplicity, finds it beautiful. He\nattempts without jealousy to equal and even surpass the best workmen\nof his kind. He thinks that his country should be the most honorable\nand the most honored of all, and that France should be the equal of all\nother powers. On this subject he will not jest, but becomes grave. If\nhe belongs to a corporation, he is enthusiastic for the glory of his\nbanner, and will not allow it to be insulted. When a man thus respects\nhis position, he respects himself, and is led to respect God. Such are\nthe elements of what I willingly term the workman\u2019s honor.\n\nWe promise you peace of conscience, the happiness that follows\naccomplished duty, the repose in joy. Every workman among us should\nsay to his children what one of the most learned men of the day, the\nillustrious Emmanuel de Roug\u00e9, wrote in his will: \u201cMay my children\npreserve the faith. Repose of mind and heart can only be found in\nJesus Christ, the Son of God, and the Saviour of man.\u201d To work, says a\ncontemporary philosopher, is easy; to repose is difficult. Man works\nwithout repose when he labors relying only upon himself; he works and\nreposes when he commences by first confiding himself to God. This is\nthe repose we offer you; it is supremely delicious, and the workman\nwill be led to repose, in working for others, like good Claude des\nHuttes, the stone-cutter of St. Point, the friend of Lamartine, who,\npoor as he was, worked gratuitously for those poorer than he, and said\nto himself, when retiring to rest: \u201cI have earned a good day\u2019s wages;\nfor the poor pay me in friendship, my heart pays me in contentment,\nand the good God will pay me in mercy.\u201d O greatness of the Christian\nworkman!\n\nWe promise to labor as unceasingly for the amelioration of your\nmaterial condition as for the enlargement of your understanding. Evil\nbe to us if we did not think of the lodging, warming, nourishment of\nthe workman\u2019s family; if we would confiscate science to our profit, and\nnot extend to you the treasure; if we ceased for a single instant to\nopen schools, asylums, circles, conferences, institutions of peace and\nof light. We do not recoil before progress; no light terrifies us. From\ntexts of the Gospel, we have and ever will produce new consequences,\nreligious, philosophical, and social; and these conclusions constitute\na progress incessant and ever new\u2014our progress, the only true progress.\n\nFinally, we promise to organize with your aid the workingmen\u2019s\nassociations. Association only frightens us when it leans towards\ndespotism, and we wish principally to give it a religious character.\nThe confraternity! an old word, which is ridiculed, but which in\nreality is a great thing; men reunited for one temporal aim under the\nprotection of God, their angel guardians, and their celestial patrons;\nfree men, discussing with all loyalty the interests of their trade,\nand knowing how to govern themselves. You will invent nothing better,\nprovided always that, in this enlarged institution, the Catholic spirit\nis harmoniously mingled with the positive rules of social science. We\nare in the midst of a crisis which cannot last long; to our mutual aid\nand co-operative societies others will succeed more scientifically\norganized, and, above all, more Christian. We hope in this future,\nand believe it very near; it is the ideal for this world now, and for\nheaven hereafter\u2014heaven, which is the great association of the happy\n...\n\n\nIII.\n\nIt would seem impossible, in the face of such doctrines, that any\nmisunderstanding could exist between the church and the workman; but\nSatan has not understood it in this manner, and objections pour against\nthe church.\n\nIt has been said repeatedly that the church has done nothing for the\nworkman. It is the conclusion that Victor Hugo has given to his _Les\nMis\u00e9rables_, and this book has singularly contributed to develop hatred\nin the hearts of the people. Numerous writers, animated with the same\nardent hate, affirm daily that, to find society well organized, we must\ngo back to antiquity, or take 1789 as the place of departure.\n\nTo refute these assertions, we will first say that, in regard to\nantiquity, they forget that it was devoured by the frightful cancer\nof slavery; among the greater part of nations before Christ, the\nworkmen were for a long time principally slaves. Manual labor,\nwhich was universally despised, was performed by entire nations\nof slaves, who were paid with lashes of the whip. Thus were built\nmany of the magnificent monuments of the Greeks, and, above all, of\nthe Romans\u2014monuments which they place so far above those of the\npresent. I remember, one beautiful October night in the Eternal City,\ncontemplating with stupefaction the immense mass of the Coliseum; the\ngigantic shafts of the columns which lay pell-mell at my feet; the\ncolossal aqueducts defined against the horizon\u2014all the splendors\nwhich are still grand even in their ruins. A priest who accompanied me\nexclaimed, in astonished admiration, \u201cYou must acknowledge that the\nChristian races have never produced such great works.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Tis true,\u201d I replied, \u201cand I thank God for it; for these monuments\nyou behold were chiefly constructed by the hands of slaves, and we now\nonly employ free workmen, whom we pay for their labor.\u201d\n\nWe do not sufficiently reflect on this. Obelisks, immense pyramids,\nsplendid porticos, hippodromes where so much plebeian blood flowed;\ntheatres where modesty was brutally violated; temples where they\nadored so many passions, so many vices; tombs where so much vanity is\nrevealed; elegant houses, but where the wife and child were so little\nvalued; astonishing monuments of incomparable art, I admire you much\nless since I know by whose hands you were raised. It is not thus that\nthey have built since the advent of Jesus Christ and the church.\n\nThere is in history a proposition of more than mathematical clearness,\nwhich I declare solemnly to be true; it is that _the church destroyed\nslavery_. It is the church that gradually transformed the slave into\nthe serf; that by degrees compelled society, formed by her, to change\nthe serf into the freeman. This is established by the records, century\nafter century, year after year, day after day. It is true, the church\ndid not improvise in an hour this admirable change, this marvellous\nprogress; it is not her custom to improvise, and, truth to say, she\nimprovises nothing; she moves slowly but surely. She never roused the\nslaves to revolt, but she recalled the masters to their duty. She\ngave great care to the question of marriage between slaves; for, with\nintelligent foresight, she knew that the whole future depended on it:\nbriefly, in 300, there were millions of slaves\u2014in 1000, not one.\n\nEverywhere existed admirable confraternities of workmen, who worked\nwithout pay on the numerous cathedrals scattered throughout Europe;\nthousands of men labored gratuitously for God, or nobly earned their\nliving in working for their brothers. Will you deny this fact? I defy\nyou to do it. The church conquered for the workmen two inappreciable\nthings\u2014liberty and dignity; and, for so many benefits, she too\noften receives but ingratitude and forgetfulness. One day, while\nrambling through the wide streets of Oxford, that city of twenty-four\ncolleges, formerly founded by the church, and which live to-day on\nthose foundations of our fathers, I inquired if there could be found\na Catholic Church. I was conducted into a kind of room, narrow and\nlow, which many of your employers would not use for a factory or shop.\nThat was what they condescended to lease the holy church of God in the\nsplendid city, built with her hands, and bathed in her sweat. It is\nthus with the working-class, which is also a creation of the church;\nits mother is forgotten, and it is with difficulty that she is left\na little corner in the workshop; but it is there we will endeavor to\nreplace her with honor, and then each one of you can say with the poet\nJasmin: \u201cI remember that, when I was young, the church found me naked,\nand clothed me; now that I am a man, I find her naked, in my turn I\nwill cover her.\u201d It is this cry we wish to hear from you.\n\nAgain, we hear that \u201cthe church is not the same to the rich and to the\npoor.\u201d When will it be proved, when can it be shown, that there are\ntwo Creeds, two Decalogues, two codes of morality, two families of\nsacraments, two dogmas, two disciplines, two altars\u2014one for the use\nof the great ones of the earth, the other destined for the poor? It\ncan never be done. They can bring forward a certain number of facts;\nthey can cite abuses more or less deplorable, and which we condemn\nimplacably; but the equality remains entire. I go further, and affirm\nthat the church has unceasingly favored the humble, the weak, and the\nlaborers. They are her privileged ones, and she has well shown it.\n\nAnother objection current among the working-class, another calumny\nwhich has triumphed over the minds of the people, unworthily deceived,\nis the scandalous assertion that \u201cthe church is the enemy of\ninstruction,\u201d and this abominable falsehood is, above all, applied to\nprimary instruction. Now, it is mathematically proved that, before the\nestablishment of the church, there did not exist in the much-lauded\nantiquity a single school for workmen. This first proposition is\nclearly evident, and it is not less mathematically demonstrated that,\nsince the advent of the church, \u201cfree schools have been attached to\neach parish, and confided to the direction of the clergy.\u201d Such are\nthe words of a learned man of our day, who has best appreciated this\nquestion, and who, in order to establish his conclusion, appeals to\ntexts the most luminously authentic.[201] We will not pause here to\nspeak of the profound love of Christ for the ignorant\u2014that love which\nshines forth in every page of the Gospel; nor will we linger over the\nepoch of the persecution of the early church; but we will transport\nourselves to France in the first period of our history.\n\nAt the commencement of the VIth century, the Council of Vaison declares\nthat for a _long time_ in Italy \u201cthe priests had brought up young\nstudents in their own houses, and instructed them like good fathers in\nfaith and sound knowledge.\u201d In the year 700, a Council of Rouen goes\nfurther, and commands _all Christians_ to send their children to the\ncity school: is not that instruction Christianly free and Christianly\nobligatory? Meanwhile, Charlemagne appears, and watches energetically\nthat these noble lights shall not be extinguished, or that they may be\nrelighted. In 797, a capitulary of Theodulph offers these admirable\nwords: \u201cThat the priests should establish schools in the villages\nand boroughs, and that no pay should be exacted from the children in\nreturn.\u201d The same decrees are found in the canons of the Council of\nRome in 826, in the bulls of Pope Leo IV., and in the capitulary of\nH\u00e9rard, Archbishop of Tours, in 858.\n\nObserve that these last quotations belong to the darkest, most savage\nepoch of our history. Feudalism reigned supreme; that redoubtable\ninstitution had recently come into existence, without having yet at\nits side the Christian counterpoise of chivalry. But if we make a leap\nof two or three hundred years, and arrive at the XIIth and XIIIth\ncenturies, all becomes brilliant, and history can furnish the list\nof all the schools that then existed even in the smallest villages.\nThese statistics are extant, and can be consulted; and from so many\naccumulated documents, which extend from 529 to 1790, the conclusion,\nrigorously scientific, must be drawn that \u201cfrom a distant period, even\nat the foundation of our parishes, the clergy in the country dispensed\ninstruction to the agricultural classes. It was thus throughout the\nmiddle ages; and even at a recent epoch we have seen the priests in\nmany parishes perform the functions of teachers.\u201d[202] What do our\nadversaries think of such exact testimony? All the schools, then,\nhaving been founded by the church, what satanic skill was needed to\npersuade the people that the church had not established one!\n\nStill more scandalous is the objection that the church has failed in\nher errand of mercy; for they accuse her of not having sufficiently\nloved the poor and abandoned. We were stupefied, several years ago,\nto find this strange assertion in a celebrated review: that the church\nowed to the Protestants the idea of the Sisters of Charity. Now, we\nhave before our eyes acts truly innumerable, establishing clearly\nthat there were many thousand institutions of charity in France in\nthe XIIth and XIIIth centuries. During the first ages of the church,\nin the midst of the persecution, the poor, _all poor_, were assisted\nin their homes by the deacons; and, after the persecutions, these\nsame poor were reunited in splendid palaces, which were divided into\nas many classes as there were miseries to relieve. But for the fear\nof being called pedants, we would cite here the _Bretotrophia_, or\nasylums for children; the _Nosocomia_, or houses for the sick; the\n_Orphanotrophia_, reserved for orphans; and the _Gerontocomia_,\nconsecrated to old age.\n\nSuch establishments continued to exist from the XIIth and XIIIth\ncenturies in all the episcopal cities, in the monastic centres,\nand in the humblest parishes, where they never ceased, during the\nChristian ages, to soothe the suffering, feed the hungry, counsel the\nerring, and instruct the ignorant. By these we are easily led to the\nXIVth and XVth centuries, when we behold so many hospitals, so many\ncharitable institutions, flourishing on the surface of the Christian\nsoil. Where are the tears the church has not dried? the nakedness she\nhas not covered? the captives she has not redeemed? the sick she has\nnot visited? the strangers she has not received? the dead she has\nnot buried with her tears? the sinners she has not pressed to her\nheart? the children she has not made smile, and has not instructed and\nconsoled? the laborers she has not loved? This is a blow to error and\nmisrepresentation; the proofs are clear\u2014you can, you _must_ read them.\n\nAgain, they object that \u201cthe church does not occupy herself at the\npresent time with the _social, the labor question_.\u201d I can show\na hundred books, bearing the greatest Catholic names, entirely\nconsecrated to this new science. For eighteen hundred years, the church\nhas not ceased for an instant to put political economy into action; for\nshe has not ceased an instant to lean towards all miseries to relieve\nthem; towards all enjoyments to purify them. Without ever having\nregarded sacrifice and resignation as the last solution of the social\nproblem; without ever having renounced the hope of seeing the reign of\nGod in a happier future, she has never ceased to preach resignation to\nthe weak, and sacrifice to the powerful. For eighteen hundred years,\nthe church has also written her economical theory; for, on account\nof the intimate connection between the social question and theology,\nit can be said with all truth that, up to the XIXth century, there\nhave been as many books written of political economy as treatises of\ntheology.\n\nThanks be to God, the day has arrived when a science has been founded\nentirely consecrated to the study of the social question. Far from\nrecoiling before it, the church has valiantly advanced to the charge.\nUndoubtedly she has a hundred other works on hand, and is obliged to\nchoose the hour when she commences the task; the hour has sounded in\nthis same house, where you listen to me with so much patience; every\nMonday a modest council is held, which also wishes to take the name\nof _J\u00e9sus-Ouvrier_. From all parts of Paris come representatives of\nthe religious orders, and for that they joyfully sacrifice every\noccupation; they occupy themselves with the labor question and the\nworkman. These meetings last two, three, and even four hours. They\nseek to study the principles which govern this question; the history\nof the efforts that have been made until the present day in favor of\nthe workman; the obstacles which oppose the solution of this grand\nproblem; and, finally, the remedies which can be brought to bear upon\nthese accumulated evils. This is what is done by these priests, these\nreligious, these Catholics; they will review one after the other the\nworkman, the workingman\u2019s family, the workingman\u2019s association. This is\nthe plan of the book whose materials they are gathering; these are the\nthree parts of a species of theology of labor which they are preparing\nin concert. In twenty other places in Paris are held twenty other\nassemblies, not less Catholic, animated by the same spirit, pursuing\nthe same end; and we can now say that the principle of Catholic social\neconomy is erected.\n\nI will now conclude, and throw a last glance over the space we have\ntraversed together. I commenced with the cross, and will finish with it.\n\nIn one of our romances of chivalry, it is related that the wood of\nthe cross borne in front of the Christian army in a battle against\nthe Saracens suddenly assumed gigantic and miraculous proportions; it\ntouched the sky, and was more luminous than the sun. The infidels,\nseized with terror, broke and fled, and the Christians counted another\nvictory. The cross of the Circles of Workingmen is small, very small,\nand will not probably be the subject of such a prodigy; nevertheless,\nI hope that its gentle light will end by assuring the victory; and the\nvictory that we desire is that the workman may be thrown in the arms of\nJesus Christ.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TEMPLE.\n\n  \u201cKnow you not that your members are the temple of the Holy Ghost?\u201d\u20141\n      Cor. vi. 19.\n\n\n  Come, I have found a temple where to dwell:\n  Sealed up and watched by spirits day and night;\n  Behind the veil there is a crystal well;\n  The glorious cedar pillars sparkle bright,\n  All gemmed with big and glistening drops of dew\n  That work their way from out yon hidden flood\n  By mystic virtue through the fragrant wood,\n  Making it shed a faint, unearthly smell;\n  And from beneath the curtain that doth lie\n  In rich and glossy folds of various hue,\n  Soft showers of pearly light run streamingly\n  Over the checkered floor and pavement blue.\n  Oh! that our eyes might see that fount of grace!\n  But none hath entered yet his own heart\u2019s holy place.\n\n  \u2014_Faber._\n\n\n\n\nAN EVENING IN CHAMBLY.\n\nSOME years ago, upon occasion of a visit to Rev. F. Mignault, at\nChambly, we were most agreeably surprised to meet an old and valued\nfriend whom we had not seen or even heard from for many years. We had\nknown him as a Protestant physician in Upper Canada, and our surprise\nwas none the less to see him now in the habit of a Catholic priest.\n\nAfter the first salutations, tea was served, when we all withdrew to\nthe cosey parlor of our reverend host\u2014which none can ever forget who\nhave once participated in its genial warmth, and inhaled the kindly\natmosphere of its old-time hospitality\u2014and settled ourselves for a\nlong winter evening of social delight.\n\nOur chat was opened by eager inquiries of the friend, whom we had known\nas Dr. Morris, touching the change in his religion and profession.\nAfter some hesitation, and smiling at the urgency of our request for\nhis narrative, he complied, saying:\n\n  \u201cShould the tale tire you, let this challenge stand\n          For my excuse.\u201d\n\nMy medical course was completed in a Scotch university, at an earlier\nage than was usual with students of the profession.\n\nImmediately after receiving my diploma, I joined a colony of my\ncountrymen who were leaving for the wild regions of Upper Canada. After\nour arrival, not relishing the rough life in \u201cthe bush,\u201d I decided to\nsettle in the little village of Brockville, instead of remaining with\nthe colony.\n\nDuring the progress of the last war between Great Britain and the\nUnited States, I had a professional call to go up the St. Lawrence, a\ntwo days\u2019 journey.\n\nIt was a glorious morning in June when, having accomplished the object\nof my visit, I set out on my return trip. I was then a stranger to\nthat region, and, attracted by the peculiar beauty of the scenery\non the river, I determined to leave the dusty highway, and enjoy a\nstroll along its banks for a few miles. Accordingly, dismissing my man\nwith the carriage, and directing him to await my arrival at a little\ninn some miles below, I turned my steps towards the majestic stream,\nwhose flowing waters and wide expanse formed a leading feature of the\ncharming landscape before me, and an appropriate finish or boundary\nupon which the eye rested with ever-increasing satisfaction and delight.\n\nI had loitered on, absorbed in contemplation of the shifting scene,\npausing occasionally to watch the changes wrought by the wing of the\npassing zephyr as it touched the polished mirror here and there,\nleaving a ripple more like a magic shadow upon its surface than any\nruffling of its peaceful bosom, and peering into its abysses, with the\neye of an eager enthusiast, to see\u2014\n\n  \u201cWithin the depths of its capacious breast\n  Inverted trees, and rocks, and azure skies,\u201d\n\nlulled, the while, by the blissful consciousness of present beauty, to\nforget that\u2014\n\n          \u201cGarry\u2019s hills were far remote,\n  The streams far distant of my native glens\u201d\u2014\n\nover the thoughts of which my homesick spirit was but too prone to\nbrood.\n\nI had reached a close thicket of low bushes that skirted the water\u2019s\nedge, when my steps were suddenly arrested by a rustling sound a little\nin advance of me. Peeping cautiously through the leafy screen of my\nsecure hiding-place, I saw what seemed to my excited fancy more like an\napparition from another world than aught that belonged to this. Upon\nthe gentle slope of a hill which descended to the water, and close upon\nthe bank, stood a gigantic tree that threw its shadows far into the\nstream, and at the foot of it sat a youthful maiden with a book in her\nhand, the rustling leaves of which had first attracted my attention.\nShe seemed at times to pore intently over its pages, and at others to\nbe lost in reverie, while her eyes roamed anxiously up and down the\nriver.\n\nAs she reclined on the bank, her slight form enveloped in the\ncloud-like folds of a white morning-dress, it was easy to imagine her\nthe _Undine_ of those wild solitudes, conning the mystic page that was\nunfolding to her the mysterious lore, hidden from mortal ken, through\nwhich the power of her enchantments should be gained and exercised.\nWhile I gazed with admiring wonder upon the serene intelligence and\nvarying light which played about her fair features, and rested like a\nglory upon her uplifted brow, I was surprised by the soft tones of a\nvoice proceeding from the tangled underwood that clothed the upward\nsweep of the hill: \u201cSits the pale-face alone on this bright summer\nmorning?\u201d\n\n\u201cO Magawiska! how you startled me, breaking so suddenly upon my dreams!\nI was indeed sitting alone under the shade of this old tree, pondering\nover a page in history; counting the white sails far up and down among\nthe Thousand Islands; watching the boiling whirlpools in the waters of\nour dear old St. Lawrence; and thinking of more things than I should\ncare to enumerate, when your voice broke the spell, and disenchanted\nme. How is it, Magawiska, that my sisters of the wilderness always\napproach so softly, taking us, as it were, unawares?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn that, we do but follow the example given by all things which the\nGreat Spirit has created to inhabit the forest. But come away with\nme, my White Dove, to the wigwam. That page in history is turned, and\nstrong hands are even now writing the next one in letters of blood!\nMany a white sail has glanced through the mazes of the Thousand Islands\nthat will never thread that fairy dance again, and the waters, so pure\nbelow, are already tinged further toward their source with the heart\u2019s\nblood of many a brave soldier! Let my fair one come away; for old Honey\nBee, the medicine-woman, has just returned from Chippewa, and may bring\nsome news of the gallant young captain who commands the _Water-witch_.\nFloated not the thoughts of my pale sister to him from the folds of the\nwhite sails she was so busy counting?\u201d\n\n\u201cNonsense, Magawiska! But your words alarm me. Surely the Honey Bee has\nno bad tidings for me from him you name! What can she know of him?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not; only I heard her whispering to my mother in the Indian\ntongue, and was sure she uttered the name of the Lightfoot more than\nonce.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I will go with you, and hear whatever news she has for me.\u201d\n\n\u201cWill my sister venture through the Vale of the Spirit-flowers, by\ncrossing which the distance to the wigwam is so greatly shortened?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, if you are sure you know the way perfectly; for I have never\ntraversed its dreary depths myself.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever fear! the Dove shall be as safe in the home of the wild bird as\nin the nest of its mother.\u201d Saying which, the young daughter of the\nwoods glided away over the hill, followed by her fair companion.\n\nAs they vanished, I quietly emerged from my hiding-place and followed\nthem at a distance, creeping cautiously along to avoid awakening any\nsounds in the echoing forests, into which we soon entered, that would\nreach the quick ear of the young native, and at the same time making a\npassing note of her appearance. She was quite young and beautiful for\none of her race. Her form was very slight and graceful in every motion,\nwhile her light, elastic step seemed scarcely to press the tender\nherbage and moss under her feet in her noiseless course. As she passed\nalong, she ever and anon cast a sly glance over her shoulder, smiling\nmischievously to see the difficulty with which her companion kept pace\nwith her rapid movements through the tangled recesses of the forest.\nAfter descending the opposite side of the hill, they entered the dingle\nat its base to which the young squaw had alluded. I was startled\nwhen I found myself enshrouded in its dim shadows. So faint was the\nlight therein on this cloudless June morning as to make it difficult\nto realize that the hour was not midnight! I could discern something\nwhite upon the ground that I conjectured was mould which had gathered\nin those damp shades. Upon examining more closely, I found it to be a\nvegetable growth, embracing in form every variety of wild flowers that\nabounded in the neighboring woods, but entirely colorless, owing to\nthe total absence of light. I gathered a quantity of these singular\n\u201cspirit-flowers,\u201d which presented the appearance of transparent\ncrystallizations, hoping to inspect them by the full light of day; but\nthe moment they were exposed to the sun, to my great surprise they\nmelted like snowflakes, leaving only fine fibres, like wet strings, in\nmy hands.[203]\n\nWhen they reached the wigwam, I secreted myself in a thicket near\nby, where I could hear the conversation between the old squaw and\nthe beautiful stranger; for having then less knowledge of the Indian\ncharacter than I afterwards acquired, I could not feel quite safe to\nleave her so entirely in their power. \u201cMagawiska tells me,\u201d she said,\nwith the blushing hesitation of maidenly reserve, \u201cthat you have just\nreturned from a distant voyage, and may know something of events which\nare taking place far up the wilderness of waters.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd if the Honey Bee knows, and should fill your ear with tales of\nbitterness, would not the pale-face say she was more ready to sting the\nchild she loves than to nourish her with sweetness? No, my White Dove!\nreturn to the nest of thy mother, and seek not to hear of ills for\nwhich there is no cure!\u201d\n\n\u201cI must know, and I will not go until you have told me!\u201d she vehemently\ncried. \u201cFor the love of heaven! my mother, if you know aught of the\nLightfoot, tell me; for I can bear any ills I know better than the\ndread of those I know not!\u201d\n\n\u201cEven so; if the Bee must wound the heart she would rather die than\ngrieve, even so; the will of the Great Spirit must be done, and may he\nheal what he has broken! There has been a mighty battle; the foes of\nthy father are the victors. The _Water-witch_ went down in the midst\nof the fight. The Lightfoot was known to be on deck and wounded when it\nsank. Thy father is maddened at the triumph of his foes, but rejoices\nover the fall of him whom he hated for his bravery in their cause, for\nhis religion, and for the love the young brave had won from the only\ndaughter of the old man\u2019s heart and home.\u201d\n\nHow my bosom throbbed in painful sympathy with the moans and stifled\nsobs that burst from the young heart, crushed under the weight of this\nseries of dire calamities, knowing that no human aid or pity could\navail for its relief! After some time, she whispered faintly: \u201cIs\nthere, then, no hope for the poor broken heart, so suddenly bereft of\nits betrothed? Oh! tell me, my good mother of the wilderness, is there\nno possibility that he may have escaped? If I could but see him, and\nhear his gentle voice utter one assurance of constancy and affection,\neven if it were his last, I think I could be reconciled. But this\nterrible, unlooked-for parting! Say, mother, may he not have escaped?\nMay I not see him once again in life?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe hand of the Great Spirit is powerful to heal as to bruise! Since\nit was not raised to protect and snatch thy beloved from death when\nno other could have saved him, look to it alone, my child, for the\ncomfort thou wilt seek elsewhere in vain! Were there not hundreds of my\nbrethren who would gladly have given their heart\u2019s blood for the life\nthat was dearer than their own, and had been offered in many conflicts\nto shield them and theirs from danger? I tell thee, pale daughter of a\ncruel foe, that wailing and lamentation went up from the camp of the\nred men when the eyes of its fiercest warriors were melted to women\u2019s\ntears at the sight I have told thee of!\u201d\n\nNothing more was said, and soon after the young stranger departed,\naccompanied by Magawiska.\n\nA few days later, I was summoned in the night to attend upon a\nwounded soldier on the American shore of the St. Lawrence. I entered\na bark canoe with a tall Indian, whose powerful arm soon impelled\nthe light vessel across the broad, swift stream. After landing, he\nconducted me into a dense and pathless forest, through which I had\nextreme difficulty in making my way with sufficient speed to keep\nwithin ear-shot of my guide. To see him was out of the question; the\ninterlaced and overhanging foliage, though the moon was shining,\nexcluded every ray of light, so that my course was buried in\nbewildering darkness. A long and fatiguing tramp through the woods\nbrought us at length to a cluster of wigwams, and I was conducted to\nthe most spacious one\u2014the lodge of the \u201cLeader of Prayer\u201d\u2014where I\nfound a remarkably fine-looking young officer lying, faint from loss\nof blood and the fatigue of removal. A Catholic missionary, whom I\nhad frequently met by the bedside of the sick, and in the course of\nhis journeys from one encampment to another of his Indian missions,\nwas sitting by him, bathing his hands and face in cold water, and\nwhispering words of encouragement and consolation during every interval\nof momentary consciousness.\n\nFrom him I learned that the Indians from the scene of action up the\nlake had brought the wounded man thus far on the way to his friends,\nat his earnest request. So anxious was he to reach home that he would\nnot consent to stop for rest after they left their boat, although the\nincreased motion renewed the bleeding of the wound, which had been\npartially checked, until he was so far exhausted as to become wholly\nunconscious, when they halted here, having brought him through the\nwoods on a litter. The priest had given him some restoratives, but had\nbeen unable to check the flow of blood, which was fast draining the\nvital current. He had administered the last sacraments to the young\nman, who belonged to a family of Catholics who had recently removed\nfrom Utica to a new settlement on the borders of Black Lake.\n\nI made a hasty examination, and soon discovered the position of the\nbullet. I succeeded in extracting it, after which the bleeding was\nspeedily and in a great measure staunched.\n\nFrom the moment I looked upon him, however, I regarded his recovery as\nmore than doubtful. Had the case received earlier attention, and the\nfatigue of removal been avoided, there was a possibility that youthful\nenergy might have carried him through the severe ordeal; though the\nwound would have been critical under the most favorable circumstances.\n\nWhen he became conscious for a moment during the operation, and looked\nin my face, he comprehended the office I was performing, and read in my\ncountenance the fears and doubts which possessed my mind.\n\n\u201cDo not leave me, doctor, until all is over,\u201d he faintly said. \u201cThis\nreverend father will acquaint my friends with my fate, for he knows\nthem.\u201d\n\nI assured him I would remain with him, and he relapsed into the stupor\nwhich I feared would be final.\n\nWe watched by him with silent solicitude. While the priest was deeply\nabsorbed over the pages of his breviary, my thoughts wandered from the\npainful present back to the dear old land from which I was a lonely,\nhomesick exile; to bright scenes of the past, fond memories of which\nneither time nor absence could obliterate, and drew a vivid contrast\nbetween them and the circumstances of my new life, especially at this\nhour. What would the dear friends with whom I had parted for ever\nthink if they could see me in the midst of this wild and dismal scene,\nsurrounded by the rudest features of savage life? With what dismay\nwould they not listen to the howling of wolves and the shrieking of\ncatamounts in the woods around us? How sadly would the continually\nrepeated plaint of the \u201cwhippoorwill\u201d fall upon their ear; while, to\nheighten the gloomy effect of the weird concert, the echoing forests\nresounded with the shrill notes of the screech-owl, answered, as if\nin derision, by their multitudinous laughing brothers, whose frantic\n\u201cHa! ha! ha!\u201d seemed like the exulting mockery of a thousand demons\nover the anxious vigil in that Indian wigwam. I was gloomily pursuing\nthis train of thought, when a slight movement near the entrance of the\nlodge arrested my attention, and aroused me from my reverie. Turning\nmy eye in that direction, I perceived by the dim light the form of\nold Honey Bee entering softly, accompanied by a female, in whom, as\nshe approached the wounded man and the light fell upon her face, I\nrecognized, to my astonishment, the _Undine_ of my former adventure.\nBut, oh! the change a few short days had wrought in that fair face! The\nvery lineaments had been so transformed from their radiant expression\nof careless joy to the settled pallor and marble-like impress of\npoignant anguish that I could scarcely bring myself to believe it was\nthe same.\n\nCalmly she approached and knelt by the sufferer, taking his hand and\nbowing her fair forehead upon it. Thus she remained for some time in\nspeechless agony, when my ears caught the whispered prayer: \u201cO my God!\nif there is pity in heaven for a poor broken heart, let him look upon\nme once more! Let me hear his gentle voice once again!\u201d Then, placing\nher mouth to his ear, she said clearly, in a low, pleading tone:\n\n\u201cWill you not speak to me once again, my own betrothed?\u201d\n\nSlowly, as if by a painful effort, the drooping eyelids lifted the long\nlashes from his cheek, and his eyes rested with unutterable tenderness\nupon the pale face which was bending over him. \u201cOh! speak to me! Say if\nyou know me!\u201d she pleaded, with convulsive earnestness.\n\nRepeatedly did the colorless lips vainly essay to speak, and at length\nthe words were wrenched from them, as it were, in broken sentences, by\nthe agonized endeavor:\n\n\u201cMy own, my best beloved! May God bless and comfort you! I leave you\nwith him! He is good to the living and the dying. Trust in him, my own\nlove, and he will never fail you. I am going to him, but I will pray\nfor you ever, ever!\u201d Then, with another strong effort, while a sweet\nsmile stole over the features upon which death had set his seal, \u201cTell\nyour father I forgive all!\u201d A gurgling sound\u2014a faint gasp\u2014and the\nlight went out from the large dark eyes, the hand which had held hers\nrelapsed its grasp, and, before the holy priest had closed the prayers\nfor the departing spirit, all was over!\n\nIt was the old, old story, repeated again and again, alike in every\nvillage and hamlet, on the bosom of old ocean, in the city and in the\nwilderness, through all the ages since the angel of death first spread\nhis wings over a fallen world, and carried their dark shadow into\nhappy homes, banishing the sunlight, leaving only the cloud. The same\nstory, \u201cever ancient and ever new,\u201d which will be repeated again and\nagain for every inhabitant of earth until \u201ctime shall be no longer,\u201d\nyet will always fall with new surprise upon the ears of heart-stricken\nsurvivors, as if they had never before heard of its dread mysteries!\nThank God that it closes for those souls whose loved ones \u201crest in\nhope\u201d with consolations that become, in time, ministering angels over\nlife\u2019s dark pathway, smoothing the ruggedness, lighting up the gloom,\neven unto the entrance of the valley whose shadows are those of death,\nand supporting them with tender aid through the dread passage.\n\nLong did we remain in a silence broken only by bitter sobs pressed\nfrom the bleeding heart of that youthful mourner. One by one the\nIndians, each with his rosary in his hand, had entered noiselessly and\nreverently knelt, until the lodge was filled with a pious and prayerful\nassemblage.\n\nIn the course of my profession, I had witnessed many death-bed scenes,\nbut had never become so familiar with the countenance of the pallid\nmessenger as to be a mere looker-on. A sense of the \u201cawfulness of life\u201d\ndeepened upon me with each repetition of the vision of death. But I had\nnever before been present at one that so entirely melted my whole being\nas this\u2014so striking in all the attributes of wild and touching pathos!\n\nGod forgive me! I had hitherto lived without a thought of him or his\nrequirements, and wholly indifferent to all religion. My life, though\nunstained by vice, had been regulated by no religious motives, and,\nso far as any interest in religion was in question, beyond a certain\nmeasure of decent outward respect, I might as well have claimed to be\na pagan as a Christian. I resolved by that death-bed, while I held the\ncold hand of that lifeless hero in mine, and mingled my tears with\nthose of the broken-hearted mourner, that it should be so no longer!\nThen and there I resolved to begin a new life, and offered myself to\nGod and to his service in whatever paths it should please his hand to\npoint out to me.\n\nAs the morning dawned, old Honey Bee, with gentle persuasions and\naffectionate urgency, drew the afflicted maiden away, and I saw her no\nmore. I assisted the good priest to prepare the remains of the young\nofficer for the removal, which he was to conduct, and then sought his\nadvice and guidance in my own spiritual affairs, freely opening to him\nthe history of my whole life. After receiving such directions as I\nrequired, and promising to see him again soon at Brockville, I returned\nby the way I went, and never revisited that vicinity.\n\nSome weeks later, I was called to the residence of a well-known\nBritish officer, a leader of the Orangemen in Upper Canada, to attend\na consultation with several older physicians upon the case of his\ndaughter, who was lying in a very alarming state with a fever. Upon\nentering the apartment of the patient, I was again surprised to\ndiscover in this victim of disease the lovely mourner of that sad scene\nin the wilderness. She lay in a partial stupor, and, when slightly\nroused, would utter incoherent and mysterious expressions connected\nwith the events of that night, and painful appeals, which were\nunderstood by none but myself, who alone had the key to their meaning.\n\nIf I had formerly been amazed to see the change a few days had\naccomplished, how much more was I now shocked at the ravages wrought\nby sorrow and disease! Could it be possible that the shrivelled and\nhollow mask before me represented the fair face that had been so lately\nblooming in beauty\u2014shining with the joy of a glad and innocent heart?\n\nThe anguish of her haughty father was pitiful to see! Determined not to\nyield to the pressure of a grief which was crushing his proud spirit,\nhis effort to maintain a cool and dignified demeanor unsustained by\nany aid, human or divine, was a spectacle to make angels weep. Alas!\nfor the heart of poor humanity! In whatever petrifactions of paltry\npride it may be encrusted, there are times when its warm emotions will\nburst the shell, and assert their own with volcanic power! When the\nattending physician announced the result of the consultation, in the\nunanimous opinion that no further medical aid could be of any avail, he\nstalked up and down the room for some time with rapid strides; then,\npausing before me, and fixing his bloodshot eyes on my face, exclaimed\nviolently, \u201cIt is _better so_! I tell you, it is _better_ even so, than\nthat I should have seen her married to that Yankee Jacobin and Papist!\nAt least, I have been spared that disgrace! But my daughter! Oh! she\nwas my only one; peerless in mind, in person, and in goodness; and must\nshe die? Ha! it is mockery to say so! It cannot be that such perfection\nwas created only to be food for worms! As God is good, it may not,\n_shall not_, be!\u201d\n\nWhile he was uttering these frantic exclamations, a thought struck me\nlike an inspiration. The image of old Honey Bee arose suddenly before\nmy mind. I remembered that she had gained the reputation among the\nsettlers of performing marvellous cures in cases of this kind by the\nuse of such simples as her knowledge of all the productions of the\nfields and forests and their medicinal properties had enabled her to\nobtain and apply.\n\nTherefore, when the haughty officer paused, I ventured to suggest to\nhis ear and her mother\u2019s only, that the Indian woman might possibly be\nable to make such applications as might at least alleviate the violence\nof the painful and alarming symptoms. He was at first highly indignant\nat the proposal of even bringing one of that hated race into his house,\nmuch less would he permit one to minister to his daughter. But when\nI respectfully urged that she be brought merely as a nurse, in which\nvocation many of her people were known to excel, and which I had known\nher to exercise with great skill in the course of my practice, failing\nnot to mention her love and admiration for the sufferer, the entreaties\nof the sorrow-stricken, anxious mother were joined with mine, and\nprevailed to obtain his consent. I was requested to remain until she\nshould arrive. Nothing was said of the matter to the other physicians,\nwho soon took their leave.\n\nWhen the old friend of the hapless maiden arrived, she consented to\ntake charge of the case only upon condition that she should be left\nentirely alone with the patient, and be permitted to pursue her own\ncourse without interruption or interference. It was difficult to bring\nthe imperious officer to these terms; but my confidence in the fidelity\nof the old squaw, and increasing assurance that the only hope of relief\nfor the sufferer lay in the remedies she might use, combined with\nthe prayers of her mother, won his reluctant consent, if I could be\npermitted to see his daughter daily, and report her condition. This I\npromised to do, and found no difficulty in obtaining the permission of\nthe new practitioner to that effect.\n\nWhether the presence of a sympathizing friend assisted the treatment\npursued I do not know. There are often mysterious sympathies and\ninfluences whose potency baffles the wisdom of philosophers and the\nresearches of science. Certain it is that, to my own astonishment,\nno less than to that of the gratified parents, there was a manifest\nimprovement in the condition of their daughter from the hour her new\nnurse undertook the charge.\n\nIn a few weeks, the attendance of old Honey Bee was no longer\nnecessary. The joy and gratitude of the father knew no bounds. He would\ngladly have forced a large reward upon her for services which had\nproved so successful, but she rejected it, saying: \u201cThe gifts that the\nGreat Spirit has guided the Honey Bee to gather are not the price of\nsilver and gold. Freely he gives them; as freely do his red children\ndispense them. They would scorn to barter the lore he imparts for gold.\nEnough that the daughter of the white chief lives. Let him see that he\nquench not the light of her young life again in his home!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does she mean?\u201d he muttered, as she departed. \u201cDoes she know? But\nno, she cannot; it must be some surmise gathered from expressions of my\ndaughter in her delirium.\u201d\n\nIn accordance with my promise, I had called daily during the attendance\nof the Indian woman, who found opportunity, from time to time, to\nexplain to me the circumstances attending the rescue of the Lightfoot.\n\nThe Indians, by whom he was greatly beloved, supposed, when they saw\nhis vessel go down, that he was lost, as they knew him to have been\nbadly wounded. A solitary Indian from another detachment was a witness\nof the catastrophe while he was guiding his canoe in a direction\nopposite to that of the encampment, and on the other side of the scene\nof action. He dashed at once with his frail bark into the midst of\nthe affray, to render assistance, if possible, to any who might have\nescaped from the ill-fated vessel. While he was watching, to his great\njoy he saw the young officer rise to the surface, and was able to seize\nand draw him into the canoe. As he was passing to the shore, he was\nnoticed by the father of the officer\u2019s betrothed, and the nature of his\nprize discovered. A volley of musketry was immediately directed upon\nthe canoe, and the Indian received a mortal wound. He was so near the\nshore that he was rescued by his party, but died soon after landing.\n\nI told her that I had heard the remainder of the story from the\nmissionary at the wigwam.\n\nShe then informed me that, after she came to take charge of the maiden,\nas soon as her patient became sufficiently conscious to realize her\ncritical condition, she had implored so piteously that the priest might\nbe sent for that it was impossible to refuse. When he came\u2014privately,\nof course, for it was too well known that her father would never\nconsent to such a visit\u2014she entreated permission to profess the\nCatholic faith without delay. After some hesitation, the priest\nconsented when he found her well instructed in its great and important\ntruths, heard her confession, her solemn profession of faith, and\nadministered conditional baptism; following the rite by the consoling\nand transcendent gift which is at once the life and nourishment of the\nCatholic soul and the sun of the Catholic firmament.\n\nThe squaw dreaded the violence of her father when he should discover\nwhat had transpired, and enjoined it upon me to shield the victim, if\npossible, from the storm of his wrath. Alas! she little dreamed how\npowerless I should prove in such a conflict!\n\nBefore the strength of the invalid was established, that discovery was\nmade. I had known much of the unreasoning bigotry and black animosity\nwhich was cherished by the Orange faction against Catholics; but I was\nstill wholly unprepared for his savage outbreak. He heaped curses upon\nhis daughter\u2019s head, and poured forth the most bitter and blasphemous\nlamentations that she had been permitted to live only to bring such\nhopeless disgrace upon his gray hairs.\n\nDespite the mother\u2019s tears and prayers, he ordered her from the\nhouse, and forbade her ever to return or to call him father again.\nOnce more did old Honey Bee come to the rescue of her _prot\u00e9g\u00e9e_. Her\naffectionate fears had made her vigilant, and, when the maiden was\ndriven from her father\u2019s house, she was received and conducted to a\nwigwam which had been carefully prepared for her reception. Here she\nwas served with the most tender assiduity until able to be removed to\nMontreal, whither her kind nurse attended her, and she entered at once\nupon her novitiate in a convent there.\n\nThe day after her departure, I also took my leave of that part of the\ncountry, and, proceeding to a distant city, entered the ecclesiastical\nstate. In due time, I was ordained to the new office of ministering to\nspiritual instead of physical ills, my vocation to which was clearly\nmade known to me by that death-bed in the wilderness.\n\nAnd now that I have related to you how the Protestant doctor became a\nCatholic priest, I must ask, in my turn, how it happened that you and\nyour family became Catholics.\n\n\u201cThe story is soon told,\u201d we replied. \u201cVery probably our attention\nmight never have been called to the subject but for a great affliction\nwhich was laid upon us in the sufferings of our only and tenderly\ncherished daughter. She was blest with rosy health until her tenth\nyear, and a merrier little sprite the sun never shone upon.\n\n\u201cSuddenly disease in its most painful and hopeless form fastened itself\nupon her, and, while sinking under its oppressive weight, she felt\nmore and more deeply day by day, with a thoughtfulness rapidly matured\nby suffering, the necessity for such aid and support as Protestantism\nfailed to furnish. It was, humanly speaking, by a mere accident that\nshe discovered where it might be found.\n\n\u201cDuring an interval between the paroxysms of the disease, and a little\nmore than a year after the first attack, a missionary priest visited\nour place, and her Catholic nurse obtained our permission to take her\nto the house of a neighbor where Mass was to be celebrated.\n\n\u201cShe was deeply impressed with what she saw, and the fervent address\nof that devoted and saintly priest melted her young heart. She\nobtained from him a catechism and some books of devotion. From that\ntime her conviction grew and strengthened that here was the healing\nbalm her wounded spirit so much needed. After long persuasion and many\nentreaties, we gave our reluctant consent that she might avail herself\nof its benefits by making profession of the Catholic faith. To the\nsustaining power of its holy influences we owe it that her life, from\nwhich every earthly hope had been stricken, was made thenceforth so\nhappy and cheerful as to shed perpetual sunshine over her home and its\nneighborhood.\n\n\u201cBy degrees she drew us, at first unwillingly, and at length\nirresistibly, to the consideration of Catholic verities. Through the\ngrace of God operating upon these considerations, our whole family,\nold and young, were soon united within the peaceful enclosure of the\n\u2018household of faith.\u2019\n\n\u201cWhen the work of our dear little missionary was thus happily\naccomplished, she was removed from the home for which she had been\nthe means of procuring such priceless blessings to that other and\nbetter home, the joys of which may not even be imagined here. With\ngrateful hearts we have proved and realized that for those whom God\nsorely afflicts his bountiful hand also provides great and abundant\nconsolations.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORIES OF TWO WORLDS:\n\nMIDDLEMARCH AND FLEURANGE.\n\n\nBETWEEN the world of _Middlemarch_ and the world of _Fleurange_ there\nyawns as wide a moral gulf as that which nature has set between the\ncontinents. The one is a world with God, the other without. It is\nnot that George Eliot\u2019s story partakes of the characteristics which\nusually attach to female novelists, with their vague interpretations\nof the Sixth and Ninth Commandments; nor, on the other hand, that\n_Fleurange_ is in any sense a goody-goody book. But the authors\noccupying essentially different stand-points, all things naturally wear\na different aspect; their characters are subject to a different order;\nall life has a different meaning; so that, though the subject of each\nis humanity, its crosses and loads of sorrow and pain, rather than its\nlaughter and gladness; though the men and women breathe the same air,\nare warmed by the same sun their, faces wet with human tears, their\nhearts sore with human sorrows; nevertheless, through either book runs\nan abiding tone felt rather than heard, like an unseen odor pervading\nthe atmosphere, which affects the reader differently throughout. The\ncharacters in the one believe in, pray to, love, obey, or rebel against\na definite, personal God; the presiding spirit in the other veils his\nface, and it is not for man to say who he is. The author only sees men\nand women gathered together in this world\u2014how, they know not; why, it\nis difficult to conceive\u2014and all we know for certain is that here they\nare, coming in contact one with the other, increasing, multiplying,\nand dropping out after each one has added his necessary mite to the\nimmensity of the universe.\n\nThere are books and writings which seem rather the production of an age\nthan of any particular author; which seem to take up and gather into\none voice the long inarticulate breathing of a portion of humanity,\ndumb hitherto for want of an oracle. Such were the writings previous to\nthe first French Revolution; such are the songs of Ireland; such, after\na certain fashion, is _Middlemarch_. It is measuring daily life by the\nfavorite doctrines of the day, whose holders profess to see things as\nthey are, and to judge of them purely and solely by what they see,\nexplaining them as best they may. To remind such people that often the\nvisible is the appearance only, the invisible the reality, is to speak\nto them a language they will not understand.\n\n_Middlemarch_ is a story of English provincial life as English\nprovincial life obtained fifty years ago; at the dawn, that is,\npractically speaking, of this wonderful XIXth century; before\nCalifornia and Australia had discovered their golden secret, when steam\nwas still in its infancy, electric telegraphs unknown, and the sciences\njust beginning to take a bolder flight. In England, O\u2019Connell was\nthundering for Catholic emancipation, and the nation clamoring for that\nvague thing in the mouth of the masses\u2014reform.\n\nJust as matters were in this chrysalis state, whilst the masses were\nstill undisturbed by the wonders of the century, or, if the phrase\nis better, not educated up to them, George Eliot settles down in that\ndullest of places, an English provincial district, to give us\n\n  \u201cThe story of its life from year to year.\u201d\n\nThe story covers very extensive ground; all Middlemarch, in fact,\nwith its parishes and towns, its churches and taverns, its clergy and\nmagistrates, its physicians and shopkeepers, its gentry and its yokels,\nits good men and its rascals, its maidens young and old, its loves\nand its hates, its hopes and its fears, its marriages and deaths, its\nthoughts, words, and deeds, from high to low\u2014such is the broad scope\nof the book, and the author has gathered all in in a manner to make\nthe reader wonder. Nothing has escaped her eye. One seems to have been\nliving in Middlemarch all his life, and every character comes and goes\nwith the face of an old acquaintance. It is not the author\u2019s fault if\nthe district be a narrow one\u2014narrow, that is, in ideas, in knowledge,\nin faith, in all that ennobles man. It is not her fault if its great\nideas take the shape of \u201ckeys to all mythologies\u201d; if its religion is\na poor affair at the best; if its leading men are religious hypocrites\nlike Mr. Bulstrode, or philanthropic asses like Mr. Brooke, who \u201cgoes\nin\u201d for everything, and talks the broadest and vaguest philanthropy\nwhilst he pinches his tenants. It is not the author\u2019s fault if\ngenerosity find no place in Middlemarch; if honesty is misunderstood\nor at a discount; if the local physicians throw discredit upon Lydgate\nwith his youth, his burning desire to achieve, his cleverness, and\nhis genuine enthusiasm; if they call his ideas quackery, because they\nthreaten their pockets, as the yokels in turn look upon the railway\nas destruction, and hold that steam takes the handle from the plough\nand the pitchfork; as Middlemarch receives Dorothea Brooke\u2019s generous\naspirations after a higher life than that which, in response to the\nquestion of an ardent nature, \u201cWhat can I do?\u201d says, \u201cWhatever you\nplease, my dear\u201d\u2014as \u201cnotions\u201d which are wrong in themselves, because\nundreamed of in Middlemarch philosophy, which, in Miss Brooke are odd,\nand which, if carried a little farther, would find their fitting sphere\nof action in the lunatic asylum.\n\nIt is not the author\u2019s fault if all this be so; if there be nothing\nin Middlemarch beyond the common good, and very little even of that,\nwhilst all the rest is mean, sordid, crooked, narrow, and outspokenly\nwicked. Such is Middlemarch, and such is it given to us. The only\nquestion is, How far does Middlemarch extend? Is it restricted to the\nEnglish county, or is it a miniature photograph of the world as seen by\nGeorge Eliot?\n\nIn the keynote to the whole book, the prelude, the author cries out\nbitterly that in this world and in these days there is no place for\na S. Teresa. In this assertion, in this wail rather, the author does\nnot limit her district to Middlemarch. It is a doctrine meant to\napply to the broad world. Throughout the book the same thing is to\nbe observed. Though with wonderful consistency and truth of local\ncoloring, and continual recurrence of petty local questions and local\nideas, the author keeps the reader in Middlemarch from beginning to\nend, nevertheless, whether with or without intention, from time to\ntime she strikes out with broader aim, and flings her sarcasm, or her\nobservation, or her moral, such as it may be, in the face of humanity.\n\nTherefore, though it would be unfair to infer that George Eliot\u2019s views\nof the world, its possibilities, its hopes, its all that makes it what\nit is, are confined to the cramped, narrow, provincial district chosen\nas the subject of her story; to allege that she believes in nothing\nnobler _now_ in humanity than what Middlemarch affords; yet so wide\nis the district embraced, so various the subjects entered into, not\nmerely touched upon\u2014religion, politics, the bettering of the poor,\nmarriage, preparation for the married state, and the effect of such\npreparation on married life, the thousand conflicts that meet, and\njostle, and combine to make everyday life what it is\u2014it is not unfair\nto say that the author, in drawing within this somewhat narrow circle\nthe main elements which compose humanity, has taken Middlemarch up as a\nscientist would take a basin of water from the sea to examine it\u2014not\nfor the sake of that sample only, but with a view to the whole.\n\nThe chief interest of the story, if story it can be called, lies in\nthis: From the outstart, the author warns you that a S. Teresa has no\nplace in the world now; and, to prove that her warning is correct, she\ntakes up a character, Dorothea Brooke, endows her with the aspirations\nafter a great life, fits her naturally, as far as she can, with every\nattribute, physical and moral, which she considers a S. Teresa ought\nto possess; with religious feelings, with the continual desire to do\ngood, with charity, with purity, with the spirit of self-sacrifice,\nwith simplicity, and truth, and utter unconsciousness of self, with\nwealth enough even, as the author says of Mr. Casaubon, \u201cto lend a\nlustre to her piety,\u201d and sets her down in the narrow Middlemarch set,\nwhere everything runs in a groove, and life is measured by all the\npettinesses, to see what will become of her.\n\nThe result may as well be told at once. S. Teresa proves a miserable\nfailure in Middlemarch. Instead of marrying, as the world\u2014that\nis to say, Mrs. Cadwallader\u2014had ordained she should do, the\nhandsome, florid, conventional English baronet, Sir James Chettam,\na sort of aristocratic \u201cMr. Toots,\u201d who is so amiable and admires\nher so much that he brings her triumphs of nature in the shape of\nmarvellous Maltese puppies as presents, and says \u201cexactly\u201d to all her\nobservations, even when she desires him to say the contrary\u2014out of\na spirit of religion, self-sacrifice, and veneration, and honestly\nbecause she admires the man, or rather the being dressed out to suit\nby her own imagination, she marries Mr. Casaubon, with his sallow\ncomplexion, his moles, his blinking eyes, and his age, which is more\nthan double her own. Unsympathetic to the loving nature of the girl\nas a wooden doll whose complexion has suffered and whose form is\nbattered by age, but which notwithstanding the girl invests with all\nthe qualities and beauty of a Prince Charming\u2014a deception that time\nalone and that ugly thing, common sense, can remove\u2014S. Teresa speedily\ndiscovers that her \u201cdivine Hooker,\u201d as she fondly imagined him, is\nafter all only \u201ca poor creature,\u201d and she is probably saved from the\ndivorce court only by the timely death of the \u201cdivine Hooker.\u201d She\ndiscovered that she had married the wrong man\u2014exactly what Middlemarch\ntold her; and there lies the provoking part of the story. Middlemarch\nwas right in its degree, and the woman, whose ideas soared so high\nabove it, was all the worse off for not taking its advice at the\noutstart. S. Teresa repents of her sin, and characteristically atones\nfor it by marrying the right man\u2014at least, the man she loves and who\nloves her\u2014and is dismissed in the following remarks, which close the\nbook:\n\n\u201cCertainly those determining acts of her life were not ideally\nbeautiful. They were the mixed result of young and noble impulse\nstruggling under prosaic conditions. Among the many remarks passed on\nher mistakes, it was never said in the neighborhood of Middlemarch\nthat such mistakes could not have happened if the society into which\nshe was born had not smiled on propositions of marriage from a sickly\nman to a girl less than half his own age, on modes of education\nwhich make a woman\u2019s knowledge another name for motley ignorance, on\nrules of conduct which are in flat contradiction with its own loudly\nasserted beliefs. While this is the social air in which mortals begin\nto breathe, there will be collisions such as those in Dorothea\u2019s life,\nwhere great feelings will take the aspect of error, and great faith the\naspect of illusion; for there is no creature whose inward being is so\nstrong that it is not greatly determined by what lies outside it. A new\nTeresa will hardly have the opportunity of reforming a conventual life\nany more than a new Antigone will spend her heroic piety in daring all\nfor the sake of a brother\u2019s burial; the medium in which their ardent\ndeeds took shape is for ever gone. But we insignificant people, with\nour daily words and acts, are preparing the lives of many Dorotheas,\nsome of which may present a far sadder sacrifice than that of Dorothea\nwhose story we know.\n\n\u201cHer finely touched spirit had still its fine issues, though they were\nnot widely visible. Her full nature, like that river of which Alexander\nbroke the strength, spent itself in channels which had no great name\non the earth. But the effect of her being on those around her was\nincalculably diffusive; for the growing good of the world is partly\ndependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you\nand me as they might have been is half owing to the number who lived\nfaithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.\u201d\n\nGeorge Eliot writes too earnestly to laugh at. Besides, she is not\na Catholic\u2014very far from it; and therefore her views of what a S.\nTeresa is or ought to be must be radically different from those of the\nchurch from which S. Teresa sprang, in which she lived, labored, became\n_Saint_ Teresa, and died. Were a Catholic to have written certain\nportions of the extract quoted, he would only provoke laughter; but\nwith this author, the case is different.\n\nIt never seems to have occurred to her that S. Teresas are not\nself-made; as little as the prophets were self-made prophets, or the\napostles self-made apostles. Neither were they made by the society\nwhich surrounded them. The supernatural state of sanctity in its\nfulness does not spring from humanity merely; else might we have\nhad eras of sanctity as there have been other eras, and there might\nbe truth in George Eliot\u2019s words that there will be no place for a\n\u201cnew Teresa.\u201d Saints are the very opposite to that growing class so\nglibly dubbed \u201cprovidential men,\u201d who seem to come from that vast\nbut rather undefined region which goes by the name of \u201cmanifest\ndestiny.\u201d The individuals forming that happy class are set willy-nilly\nby \u201cProvidence\u201d in this world to accomplish some destiny\u2014a theory\nlaughed at long ago by one of Mr. Disraeli\u2019s worldly-wise characters\nin the words, \u201cWe make our fortunes, and we call them fate.\u201d What the\nsaints do they do very consciously. Sanctity consists in not being\nmerely blameless in life, but in devoting life to God, and turning\nevery thought, word, and action to him for his sake. The feeling that\nproduces this state of life may be influenced at the beginning by\nearthly surroundings, may be shaped by good example or wise teachings,\nbut is essentially independent of them. Sanctity comes from a direct\ncall, as direct as the call of the apostles. It knows neither time nor\nplace, and is therefore as possible in the XIXth as in the XVIth or the\nIst century. But it is unknown outside of the church, because the head\nof the church, \u201cChrist Jesus our Lord,\u201d alone has the power to call\nhis children to the sanctified state in this life. And if it be asked,\nWhy, then, does he not call all to be saints here? it is as though one\nasked, Why did he not call all men to be apostles directly?\n\nGeorge Eliot\u2019s difficulty springs from not knowing precisely what\nconstitutes a saint.\n\nIf she only reads the life of S. Teresa, she will find that the saint\nof her admiration had to encounter a Middlemarch circle even in\nCatholic Spain. She will find her \u201cyoung and noble impulse struggling\nunder prosaic conditions\u201d; that she had to stand the brunt of being\nmisunderstood and misrepresented; her schemes of reform, of good works,\nher noble aspirations and ardent self-sacrifice, set down as \u201cnotions.\u201d\nIn fact, the opposition which meets her heroine at every step in her\ndesire to do good and to be perfect, not only to herself but to others,\nis puny compared with that which S. Teresa had to sustain all through\nher life.\n\nAs a matter of fact, S. Teresa was much more of the ordinary woman than\nGeorge Eliot, with a novelist\u2019s love, makes her heroine. In her youth,\nshe was subject to all the ordinary fancies of \u201cthe sex,\u201d and has left\nus the record of her vanities, which were neither more nor less than\nthose of ten thousand very excellent ladies living at this moment,\nwho are no more S. Teresas than they are Aspasias; but good Christian\nwomen, girls with a happy future before them, or smiling mothers of\nfamilies. It was not her surroundings which made Teresa a saint: it was\nher clear conception of duty, which no \u201cprosaic conditions\u201d could dim,\nand her profound and very definite faith, not in that obscure creation\nwhich George Eliot calls \u201cthe perfect Right,\u201d but in Jesus Christ, her\nGod.\n\nIt was perfectly natural that George Eliot\u2019s Teresa should fail; but\nthe mistake of the author consists in making the failure come from\nwithout rather than from within\u2014a mistake easily understood when it is\nborne in mind that the author has no firm faith, possibly none at all,\nin Christianity. Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, all failed to make the\nworld better, not because they may not have wished it, but because they\nhad not the power. They were themselves uncertain of their schemes.\nTheir highest flights, like those of the best of modern philosophers\nwho possess no faith, never pass beyond intellectual excellence devoid\nof soul. They may daze the intellect, but they do not touch the soul;\nand the life of a man is never regulated by pure intellect. So they\nfail, whilst the ignorant fishermen, who lose their personality in God,\nmove and convert the world.\n\nIn taking issue on these fundamental points with the author of\n_Middlemarch_, many of the subjects touched upon would require\nelaborate elucidation when read by those who are not of the Catholic\nfaith. But space does not allow of this, and, therefore, it is to be\nunderstood that this article is supposed only to meet the eyes of\npersons fully acquainted at least with the Catholic manner of looking\nat things.\n\nDorothea Brooke fails in becoming a S. Teresa, as the author seems to\nconsider she should have become, not because she has lighted on evil\ndays and on a less congenial set than S. Teresa did, but because, in\nCatholic phrase, she had no _vocation_.\n\nTo find out what is meant by a vocation, let us anticipate, and turn\na moment to _Fleurange_ at that point in the heroine\u2019s history where,\nhaving \u201ctasted beforehand the bitter pleasures of sacrifice,\u201d she\nretires heart-broken to the convent where she spent her youth, to find\nthe rest and peace which seemed banished from the world after the\nvoluntary sacrifice she had made of her affections.\n\n\u201cMother Maddalena stood with her arms folded, and listened without\ninterrupting her. Standing thus motionless in this place, at this\nevening hour, the noble outlines of her countenance and the long folds\nof her robe clearly defined against the blue mountains in the distance\nand the violet heavens above, she might easily have been mistaken for\none of the visions of that country which have been depicted for us and\nall generations. The illusion would not have been dispelled by the\naspect of her who, seated on the low wall of the terrace, was talking\nwith her eyes raised, and with an expression and attitude perfectly\nadapted to one of those young saints often represented by the inspired\nartist before the divine and majestic form of the Mother of God.\n\n\u201c\u2018Well, my dear mother, what do you say?\u2019 asked Fleurange, after\nwaiting a long time, and seeing the Madre looking at her and gently\nshaking her head without any other reply.\n\n\u201c\u2018Before answering you,\u2019 replied she at last, \u2018let me ask this\nquestion: Do you think it allowable to consecrate one\u2019s self to God in\nthe religious life without a vocation?\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Assuredly not.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018And do you know what a vocation is?\u2019 said she very slowly.\n\n\u201cFleurange hesitated. \u2018I thought I knew, but you ask in such a way as\nto make me feel now I do not.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018I am going to tell you: a vocation,\u2019 said the Madre, as her eyes lit\nup with an expression Fleurange had never seen before\u2014\u2019a vocation to\nthe religious life is to love God more than we love any creature in the\nworld, however dear; it is to be unable to give anything or any person\non earth a love comparable to that; to feel the tendency of all our\nfaculties incline us towards him alone; finally,\u2019 pursued she, while\nher eyes seemed looking beyond the visible heavens on which they were\nfastened, \u2018it is the full persuasion, even in this life, that he is\n_all_, our all, in the past, the present, and the future; in this world\nand in another, for ever, and to the exclusion of everything besides.\u2019\u201d\n\nThe carrying out of this feeling made Teresa a saint. It is doubtful\nwhether such thoughts ever entered into George Eliot\u2019s conception of\nthe character she is continually holding up before her readers as\nimpossible in these days. Certainly Dorothea Brooke, with all her\nnatural goodness, never conceived such a life as that possible. The\nauthor may be right in attributing her defects to her Calvinistic\neducation, but that does not warrant the inference that anything\nhigher than a life which merely aims at an uncertain good, capable\nof influencing those coming within its circle in a certain way, is\nimpossible in these days. When the author speaks of \u201cgreat faith taking\nthe aspect of illusion,\u201d before conceding, one would like to see the\n\u201cgreat faith.\u201d Dorothea Brooke never knew what real faith was; from\nbeginning to end, all is uncertainty with her. From girlhood up she\nlives in an atmosphere of self-delusion and imagination which can\nfind no other possible vent than aimless aspirations after imaginary\nperfection, which must come into collision with the rough, practical\nworld, and must finally go to the wall. But when the world sees a man\nor a woman acting steadily up to a practical belief which guides them\nin all their actions, and meets every contingency, however unexpected,\nand every calamity, however great, if it does not fall in and follow,\nit will at least respect it and acknowledge that there is something in\nit.\n\nIt may sound \u201ca hard saying,\u201d but practically there is no such thing\nas \u201cideal beauty\u201d; and those who, like George Eliot, strive after it\nas the great good, pursue a phantom, a nothing, an emanation of their\nown imagination, and, like the poet in Shelley\u2019s \u201cAlastor,\u201d waste their\nlife in profitless longings, and when death comes\u2014\n\n                                  \u201cAll\n  Is reft at once, when some surpassing Spirit,\n  Whose light adorned the world around it, leaves\n  Those who remain behind nor sobs nor groans,\n  The passionate tumult of a clinging hope,\n  But pale despair and cold tranquillity.\u201d\n\nPersons of an undefined faith, women particularly, are very much\nattached to this ideal beauty, and, not finding it in man, are apt\nto rebel against \u201cprosaic conditions\u201d; and those who regulate their\nactions by their thoughts find issue in absurdities, often in crime,\nmore or less gross. It would be well for these theorists to remember\nthat man after all has a considerable admixture of clay in his\ncomposition, which may explain many of those vulgar but necessary\n\u201cprosaic conditions\u201d; and until the human race comes to be fed on\n\u201cvril,\u201d the world must continue to count upon and accommodate itself\nto a vast amount of flesh-and-blood reality. And a beauty, far higher\nthan any ideal beauty, is visible in the everlasting struggle between\nspirit and clay. There was no ideal in the death upon the cross, the\nconsummation of Christian sacrifice. All was terribly real there, and\nflesh suffered as well as mind while a flutter of the spirit remained.\nHere lies something greater than any ideal\u2014the spirit bracing the\nflesh, sustaining it when it faints, enabling it to bear all things,\nnot blindly and as coming by fate from the hands of a blind destiny or\ncareless power, but as trials sent from heaven to lead to heaven and\nprepare for heaven.\n\nThat is the fault with Middlemarch. It has all the \u201cprosaic conditions\u201d\nand nothing else. It wants nothing else; it positively revels in them.\nAnd when anything higher comes to it, it sets the higher down as\n\u201cnotions\u201d in religion, or \u201cquackery\u201d in medicine, \u201cor swallowing up\u201d of\nthe little traffic by the big in railroads.\n\nInto these \u201cprosaic conditions\u201d and surroundings the author drops\nanother character similar to that of Dorothea, as far as a man can\nbe similar in nature to a woman, save that his religion consists in\nthe passion for his profession, the ardent aspiration after the glory\nof achievement, aided by all natural gifts, and strengthened by what\nhave been well called the \u201cpagan virtues.\u201d This is Lydgate, the young\nphysician, a stranger to Middlemarch, who is possessed by the desire\ncommon to all young ambition of educating Middlemarch up to a lofty\nstandard, and using it as a lever to move a slow world. Though perhaps\nas well fitted as man\u2014considered merely as an intellectual animal\nendowed with Christian instincts, moved by a generous if somewhat\nimpetuous nature, and void of the vices\u2014could be for that purpose,\nthe result in his case is the same as in that of Dorothea. Instead of\nlifting Middlemarch up to the level of his ideal, he finds himself\ndragged down to it; and, strangely and perhaps truthfully enough, he\nfinds, in common with Dorothea, that the very being to whom he linked\nhis life is the stumbling-block in the way of his achievement. Dorothea\nreceives a fatal jar to her imaginings in the person of the husband she\nadored by anticipation. Lydgate finds his nature crushed and resisted\nat all points by the passive resistance of his wife. The woman is\nmercifully relieved from her incubus by death; the strong man gives way\nbefore his \u201cso charming wife, mild in her temper, inflexible in her\njudgment, disposed to admonish her husband, and able to frustrate him\nby stratagem.\u201d\n\n\u201cLydgate\u2019s hair never became white. He died when he was only fifty,\nleaving his wife and children provided for by a heavy insurance on\nhis life. He had gained an excellent practice, ... having written a\ntreatise on gout\u2014a disease which has a good deal of wealth on its\nside. His skill was relied on by many paying patients, but he always\nregarded himself as a failure: he had not done what he once meant to\ndo. As the years went on, he opposed his wife less and less, whence\nRosamond concluded that he had learnt the value of her opinion. In\nbrief, Lydgate was what is called a successful man. But he died\nprematurely of diphtheria. He once called his wife his basil-plant,\nand, when she asked for an explanation, said that _basil was a plant\nwhich had flourished wonderfully on a murdered man\u2019s brains_.\u201d\n\nSuch is the end of the naturally noble man who marries fair Rosamond,\n\u201cthe flower of Middlemarch.\u201d This fair Rosamond, like her historical\nnamesake, lives in a crooked labyrinth of devious ways, where she\nfetters her knight, her king, who would fain go forth to conquer\nkingdoms, and, if need be, take her with him. But her kingdom is\nbounded by her own narrow domain, and she carries him on from labyrinth\nto labyrinth, till he is lost and resigns himself to his fate.\n\nWhen the lady who is pleased to assume the name of George Eliot first\nstartled the English reading world, there was great doubt as to the\nsex of the new author. Certainly all such doubt, if any still existed,\nwould be set at rest for ever by the portrait of Rosamond Vincy. No\nman could ever have executed that. No man could ever have gone down\ninto the very fibres of a woman\u2019s nature, and drawn them all out one by\none, and laid them bare before us, to show what constitutes \u201cthat best\nmarble of which goddesses are made.\u201d If Dorothea, with the strong touch\nof Calvinism leading her noble nature astray, prove a failure, what\nshall be said of \u201cthe flower of Mrs. Lemon\u2019s school, the chief school\nin the county, where the teaching included all that was demanded in the\naccomplished female\u2014even to extras, such as the getting in and out of\nthe carriage\u201d?\n\nRosamond Vincy is, perhaps, the most finished portrait ever presented\nof the intelligent animal of the female sex; clever enough to despise\nMiddlemarch, not because it is low, and mean, and sordid, but because\nit is too narrow and unworthy to hold so fair and accomplished a\nspecimen of humanity as Rosamond Vincy. All young Middlemarch breaks\nits heart about her. She refuses it quietly and persistently, wins\nLydgate in spite of himself, not because he is Lydgate, the generous,\nardent, high-souled young man, but because he brings with him the\natmosphere of an outer world, with a hint of great relations, a\ndistinguished person, and an unconscious air of superiority which\nMiddlemarch cannot offer. The result of the wedding of two such natures\nmay be imagined. George Eliot\u2019s version of it is horribly real and\nmiserably natural; and perhaps the most powerful part of the book\nis the struggle going on between the generous nature of the man and\nthe demon of self incarnate in the perfect form and the narrow but\nacute intellect of the woman, who is so supremely selfish that she is\nabsolutely unconscious of her selfishness, and therefore incurable.\n\u201cLydgate,\u201d after vainly endeavoring to break down this barrier which\nlay between them, invisible to the eyes of her who raised it, \u201chad\naccepted his narrowed lot with sad resignation. He had chosen this\nfragile creature, and had taken the burden of her life upon his arms.\nHe must walk as he could, carrying that burden pitifully.\u201d\n\nAnd she, his \u201cbird-of-paradise,\u201d only once called his \u201cbasil-plant,\u201d\nwhen the man whose life had been lost on her died, \u201cmarried an elderly\nand wealthy physician, who took kindly to her four children. She made\na very pretty show with her daughters, driving out in her carriage,\nand often spoke of her happiness as \u2018a reward\u2019\u2014she did not say for\nwhat, but probably she meant that it was a reward for her patience\nwith Tertius, whose temper never became faultless, and to the last\noccasionally let slip a bitter speech which was more memorable than\nthe signs he made of his repentance. Rosamond had a placid but strong\nanswer to such speeches: Why, then, had he chosen her? It was a pity he\nhad not had Mrs. Ladislaw\u2014Dorothea\u2014whom he was always praising and\nplacing above her.\u201d\n\nWith regret the examination into this wonderful book, of which three\nof the salient characters only have been touched upon, must now close.\nThe story abounds in other characters, each perfect in its way, as\nfar as drawing and execution go. It forms quite a study in parsons as\nin physicians; and those who quarrel with the author of _My Clerical\nFriends_ must feel sore aggrieved at the clerical friends of George\nEliot. There is not a _priestly_ character among them; not a single\ndevoted man whose heart is given wholly to God, and whose mind is bent\nsolely on doing God\u2019s work for God\u2019s sake. The Middlemarch parsons are\na narrow set of men of undefined belief and cramped charity; their\nbelief being measured by their salary, and their charity beginning and\noften ending at home with their wives and families. The only agreeable\ncharacters among them as men are Mr. Cadwallader and Mr. Farebrother.\nThe first of these is a \u201cgood, easy man,\u201d whose Gospel is as elastic\nas his fishing-rod, of whom the author says, \u201cHis conscience was large\nand easy like the rest of him; it did only what it could without any\ntrouble,\u201d and whom his wife characteristically hits off in the sentence\nthat, \u201cas long as the fish rise to his bait, everybody is what he ought\nto be\u201d; whilst she complains: \u201cHe will even speak well of the bishop,\nthough I tell him it is unnatural in a beneficed clergyman. What can\none do with a husband who attends so little to the decencies?\u201d The\nother, Mr. Farebrother, is the best preacher in Middlemarch, and really\na man of a noble nature; yet his poverty leads him to play whist for\nmoney and even an occasional game of billiards at the Green Dragon. He\nleads us to infer that he knows he has assumed the wrong profession,\nbut that it is too late to get rid of it.\n\nThe only man who really possesses anything in the semblance of\nreligion is Mr. Bulstrode, the Methodist banker, of whom wicked old\nFeatherstone, whose death is so powerfully told, says:\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s he? He\u2019s got no land hereabout that ever I heard tell of. A\nspeckilating fellow! He may come down any day, when the devil leaves\noff backing him. And that\u2019s what his religion means: he wants God\nA\u2019mighty to come in. That\u2019s nonsense! There\u2019s one thing I made out\npretty clear when I used to go to church, and it\u2019s this: God A\u2019mighty\nsticks to the land. He promises land, and he gives land, and he makes\nchaps rich with corn and cattle.\u201d That sounds very like the religion\nof Tennyson\u2019s Northern Farmer of the new style. As a matter of fact,\nold Featherstone turns out to be right. Bulstrode is a hypocrite. His\nlife and his fortune have been built upon hypocrisy. He is rich on\nmoney that does not belong to him and by wealth ill-gotten; he strives\nto silence his conscience by a life of external mortification and by\nworks set on foot for the improvement of the poor and carried out in\nhis own way. Yet rather than lose his character for respectability and\ngoodness, he murders an old associate; that is, he consciously does\nwhat the physician warned him might cause death.\n\nMrs. Cadwallader, spite of her wit and her mind, \u201cactive as phosphorus,\nbiting everything that came near into the form that suited it,\u201d must\nbe dismissed in her own words, though she is the life of Middlemarch,\nas one who \u201cset a bad example\u2014married a poor clergyman, and made\nherself a pitiable object among the De Bracys\u2014obliged to get her coals\nby stratagem, and pray to heaven for her salad-oil\u201d; as must also\nLadislaw, whom Mr. Brooke, who takes him up and transfers him to the\n_Pioneer_, characterizes as \u201ca kind of Shelley, you know,\u201d whom he (Mr.\nBrooke) may be able to put on the right tack; who has \u201ca way of putting\nthings,\u201d which is just the sort of thing Mr. Brooke wants\u2014\u201cnot ideas,\nyou know, but a way of putting them.\u201d Lydgate characterizes him best\nas \u201ca likable fellow, but bric-a-brac.\u201d He is just the material out of\nwhich Charles Lever constructed \u201cJoe Atlee,\u201d that prince of Bohemians.\n\nIt is difficult also to pass unnoticed by the Vincy and the Garth\nfamilies; thriftless Fred. Vincy, who is only saved from taking to that\nlast resort of an ignoble mind\u2014\u201cthe cloth\u201d\u2014by honest Caleb Garth\nand his merry, true-hearted daughter Mary, who is, perhaps, after\nall the best and jolliest girl in the book, and whose plain, womanly\nwit and common sense, plain and undisguised as her open face, is an\nexcellent foil to the pretty animalism of Rosamond Vincy and the vague\nreligiousness of Dorothea. What could be better than this by way of\npreparation for old Featherstone\u2019s decease?\u2014\n\n\u201c\u2018Oh! my dear, you must do things handsomely where there\u2019s last illness\nand a property. God knows, _I_ don\u2019t grudge them [the relatives on the\nwatch] every ham in the house\u2014_only save the best for the funeral_.\nHave some stuffed veal always, and a fine cheese in cut. You must\nexpect to keep open house in these last illnesses,\u2019 said liberal\nMrs. Vincy.\u201d Or than this picture of one of George Eliot\u2019s favorite\ncharacters?\u2014\n\n\u201cCaleb Garth often shook his head in meditation on the value, the\nindispensable might, of that myriad-headed, myriad-handed labor by\nwhich the social body is fed, clothed, and housed. It had laid hold of\nhis imagination in boyhood. The echoes of the great hammer where roof\nor keel were a-making, the signal-shouts of the workmen, the roar of\nthe furnace, the thunder and plash of the engine, were a sublime music\nto him; the felling and lading of timber, and the huge trunk vibrating\nstar-like in the distance along the highway, the crane at work on the\nwharf, the piled-up produce in warehouses, the precision and variety\nof muscular effort wherever exact work had to be turned out\u2014all these\nsights of his youth had acted on him as poetry without the aid of\npoets, had made a philosophy for him without the aid of philosophers,\na religion without the aid of theology. His early ambition had been to\nhave as effective a share as possible in this sublime labor, which was\npeculiarly dignified by him with the name of \u2018business.\u2019\u201d\n\nAfter all, notwithstanding its wit and power, and fund of worldly\nwisdom, one turns almost with a sense of relief from this\ndisheartening Middlemarch world to the world as seen in _Fleurange_.\nConsidered merely as a story, for unity of plot and rapidity of\naction, _Fleurange_ is, to our thinking, far more interesting than\n_Middlemarch_. A young girl who has been educated in an Italian convent\nfinds herself soon after leaving it thrown almost entirely upon the\nworld by the death of her father, an artist, to fight the battle of\nlife single-handed. \u201cYoung, beautiful, poor, and alone in Paris,\nwhat will become of her?\u201d With this question the book opens, and,\nindeed, the whole story is plainly evolved from this idea. Instead\nof wasting her efforts on an impossible S. Teresa, Mme. Craven takes\nup the practical case of a young and religious girl, whose training\nand education, whatever they may have amounted to in the point of\naccomplishments, were built upon religion, not a vague unreality,\nbut a religion which in the plainest words taught her to kneel down\nand pray, not to \u201cthe perfect Right,\u201d as did Dorothea, but to God,\nto Jesus Christ\u2014a being, it may here be mentioned, who is carefully\nexcluded from _Middlemarch_. The reader need not infer that this inner\nlife of the heroine is insisted upon severely, and that he always\nfinds Fleurange upon her knees. Nothing of the sort. You only feel\nunconsciously, by little touches here and there, by the tone of the\nwhole story, that the girl lives up to the practical accomplishment\nof what she was taught in the convent by Madre Maddalena; that she\ncarries her religion out with her into the world as her only guide\namidst its manifold dangers; that she has not flung it aside with her\nleading-strings; and that it is this and this alone which sustains her\nin the midst of terrible suffering, and saves her from sinking under\nthe pressure of trial.\n\nFleurange goes first to her uncle\u2019s family in Germany. Their loss of\nfortune drives her out again from them into the service of a Russian\nprincess, where she is surrounded and flattered by all that the world\nconsiders witty, brave, brilliant, and captivating. Her singular\nbeauty and innate nobility enable her to grace the lofty station to\nwhich the Princess Catherine assigns her. Here, in Florence, in the\nvery household of his mother, she encounters for the second time Count\nGeorge de Walden, a handsome and highly accomplished young gentleman,\nthe adoration of his mother and possibly of himself, who is just\nloitering around Europe, \u201cseeing life.\u201d He met Fleurange before in her\nfather\u2019s studio as she sat for a picture of \u201cCordelia.\u201d Of course, he\nfell in love with her, as such young gentlemen will do whose time is\nheavy on their hands. Father and daughter disappeared. He retained\nthe picture, but what he wanted was the original; and here, after\nfeeding on the memory of his unknown love for a year or so, he finds\nher actually domesticated in his mother\u2019s household. This is what a\nplaywright would consider \u201can excellent situation,\u201d particularly as\nthe princess suspects nothing of what is passing under her eyes. As\na matter of course, they fall in love, and, equally as a matter of\ncourse, they contrive to make their love known. And this is the trying\ntime for Fleurange.\n\nIt is not that she is dazzled with the prince, but with what she\nconsiders the perfect man. And indeed, in the eyes of the world, Count\nGeorge is a perfect man, whilst, in the eyes of his mother, he is\nsomething still more; and therefore a _m\u00e9salliance_ would to her, whose\nheart was entirely her son\u2019s\u2014all the rest of her being divided between\nthe _modiste_, the physician, and the _salon_\u2014seem a greater crime\nthan many of those which bring men to the scaffold. Fleurange knows\nthis, and therefore\u2014though, when the confession is forced from her,\nshe does not even to himself deny her love for George and her desire\nto be his wife\u2014she is convinced that their union is impossible. She\ndoes the best thing under the circumstances: she determines to leave\nthe household of the princess; and thus, not for the first time, do\nthe promptings of _duty_, of what one ought to do, of what God would\nhave us do, correspond with those of common sense. George has avowed\nhis love for Fleurange to his mother, and the confession has such an\neffect upon her that she is cured for the time from an attack of one\nof those incurable maladies not uncommon with ladies who are blessed\nwith everything that this world can offer. There is _caste_ even in\nillnesses, and fashion in a complaint as in a bonnet. Thus, when some\nyears back the eye-glass became a fashionable ornament, all young\nEngland, fashionable and would-be fashionable, suddenly grew weak\nin one eye, whilst the \u201csons of industry\u201d remained in their normal\ncondition.\n\nThe princess rises to the gravity of the situation, and extracts a\npromise from her son that he will never marry Fleurange without her\nconsent. But all her difficulties are smoothed away by Fleurange\nherself, who, even though the count has asked her to be his wife,\ndetermines to sacrifice herself for his sake, and go.\n\n\u201c\u2018Fleurange,\u2019 said the count, with a grave accent of sincerity far\nmore dangerous than that of passion, \u2018you shall be my wife if you will\nconsent to be\u2014if you will accept this hand I offer you.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018With your mother\u2019s consent?\u2019 said Fleurange slowly, and in a low\ntone. \u2018Can you assure me of that?\u2019\n\n\u201cAfter a moment\u2019s hesitation, George replied: \u2018No, not to-day; but she\nwill yield her consent, I assure you.\u2019\n\n\u201cFleurange hesitated in her turn. She knew only too well to what a\ndegree this hope was illusory, but this was her last opportunity\nof conversing with him. The next day would commence their lifelong\nseparation, which time, distance, and prolonged absence would\ncontinually widen. There was no longer any danger in telling the\ntruth\u2014the truth, alas! so devoid of importance now, but which would,\nperhaps, second the duty she had to accomplish quite as well as\ncontradiction.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah! well,\u2019 she at last replied, with simplicity. \u2018Yes, why should I\ndeny it? Should life prove more favorable to us; if by some unforeseen\ncircumstance, impossible to conceive, your mother should cheerfully\nconsent to receive me as a daughter, oh! then what an answer I would\nmake you know without my telling you. You are likewise perfectly aware\nthat until that day I will never listen to you.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018But that day will come,\u2019 cried George vehemently, \u2018and that speedily.\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018Perhaps,\u2019 said Fleurange. \u2018Who knows what time has in store for us?\nAnd who knows that in time the obstacle may not come from yourself?\u2019\n\n\u201cShe endeavored to say these last words in a playful tone. They were\nhardly uttered before she suddenly stopped; but the shade of the large\ncypresses that bordered the road prevented George from seeing the tears\nthat inundated her face.\u201d\n\nThus they part, under the cypresses. George thinks she is only leaving\nfor a short time, to return again. She goes back to the convent, to\nbury there her broken heart and the hopes her own strong will has\nblighted. But convents are not built on broken hearts; and Madre\nMaddalena, who is none the less gifted with common sense and worldly\nprudence for leading a retired and saintly life, sends her back into\nthe world \u201cto continue the contest,\u201d for the reasons already given,\nwith these words:\n\n\u201cO my poor child! it would be much easier for me to tell you to remain\nand never leave us again. It would be sweeter for me to preserve you\nthus from all the sufferings that yet await you. But, believe me,\nthe day will come when you will rejoice you were not spared these\nsufferings; and you will acknowledge that she who is now speaking to\nyou knew you better than you knew yourself.\u201d\n\nFleurange goes back to the world, to her uncle\u2019s family, which is\ngradually recovering its fall through the efforts of Clement, her\ncousin, who was the first to welcome her among them. Notwithstanding\nher suffering, she carries on all the duties of life like a Christian\nwoman, without despondency as though God were blotted out of the world,\nand equally without that foolish ostentation of gaiety sometimes\nassumed. She never thought with Dorothea that she had suffered \u201call the\ntroubles of all the people on the face of the earth.\u201d The hour never\ncame to her \u201cin which the waves of suffering shook her too thoroughly\nto leave any power of thought\u201d; not that she suffered or loved less\nthan Dorothea, but because she saw through all something higher than\nhuman suffering and more lovely than human love. That pagan hour never\ncame to her, when Dorothea \u201crepeated what the merciful eyes of solitude\nhave looked on for ages in the spiritual struggles of man\u201d; when \u201cshe\nbesought hardness, and coldness, and aching weariness to bring her\nrelief from the mysterious incorporeal might of her anguish\u201d; nor did\n\u201cshe lie on the bare floor and let the night grow cold around her,\nwhile her grand woman\u2019s frame was shaken by sobs as if she had been a\ndespairing child.\u201d Fleurange never, as did Dorothea, \u201cyearned toward\n_the perfect Right_, that it might make a throne within her, and rule\nher errant wrong.\u201d Whether she yearned or not, she knew what was right\nand what was wrong, and, by praying to God for help and strength, she\ndid right. If women in love stop to ask themselves what is the \u201cperfect\nright,\u201d in nine cases out of ten in love matters the perfect right will\nbe the absolute wrong. Right is fixed; there is a law in those things,\nas in all questions of the soul, not evolved out of the individual\u2019s\nbrains, but out of the heart of Christian charity, which is in Christ.\nDuty does not depend on feeling \u201cthe largeness of the world,\u201d and on\nbeing \u201ca part of that involuntary, palpitating life,\u201d but on being\na creation of God. George Eliot tends to pantheism, and, spite of\nherself, Christian instinct only prompts her heroine to do what is\nright. If we are \u201ca part of that involuntary and palpitating life,\u201d and\n_nothing more_, there is no _necessary_ reason for charity.\n\nThe difference between Dorothea and Fleurange, two characters which,\nallowing for side differences of clime, are naturally similar, consists\nin all the sufferings of the one bearing the aspect of self-torture,\nwhilst those of the other are a sacrifice. The sorrows of Fleurange,\nwhich, after all, are much greater than those of Dorothea, are endured\nfor God\u2019s sake and as coming from God. They are not a whit less\npainful to nature on this account; but they are explicable, and have\na meaning which Dorothea never seems to realize. One suffers because\nshe cannot help herself; the other because it is God\u2019s will. On George\nEliot\u2019s principle, there is no guarantee for a person doing right at\nall, inasmuch as it is so very difficult to determine what is right.\nIf right be \u201ca part of that involuntary and palpitating life\u201d _only_,\nit has no meaning beyond what is contained in the word accident;\nthat is to say, right and wrong are effects of circumstance. Nor is\nthis forcing a meaning, as may be seen from various passages in the\nbook\u2014unless, indeed, we have read them very wrongly. Thus, she speaks\nof the spirit struggling \u201cagainst _universal pressure_, which will\none day be too heavy for it, and bring the heart to its final pause.\u201d\nShe sneers at our referring a man \u201cto the divine regard with perfect\nconfidence,\u201d and says: \u201cNay, it is even held sublime for our neighbor\nto expect the utmost there, however little he may have got from us.\u201d\nAnd in another place: \u201cAny one watching keenly the stealthy convergence\nof human lots sees a slow preparation of effects from one life on\nanother, which tells like _a calculated irony_ on the indifference or\nfrozen stare with which we look at our unintroduced neighbor. Destiny\nstands by sarcastic, with our _dramatis person\u00e6_ folded in her hand.\u201d\n\nThis sounds very fine, and that last sentence might have been written\nby one of the Greek poets. It is beautifully pagan; but, after all,\nhuman life is regulated in man and woman by a will that is free to use\nor reject the \u201cslow preparation of effects,\u201d to laugh at the phantom,\ndestiny; and when it pleases God to bring this lesser life of time to\n\u201ca final pause,\u201d man goes before his Creator to give an account of his\nservitude indeed, but not of his slavery.\n\nFleurange writes from the convent to the princess. She herself had\narranged the plot which was to blind George to her final departure, and\nthis is how the princess receives the letter of the girl who had so\nfreely offered up her heart on the altar of duty. The princess knew of\nthe sacrifice. It is doubtful whether Rosamond Vincy ever displayed her\nunconscious selfishness so thoroughly as this:\n\n\u201cThe Princess Catherine, in an elegant morning _n\u00e9glig\u00e9_, was alone\nwith the Marquis Adelardi in her small _salon_, when a letter was\nbrought her on a silver salver. She glanced at the address.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ah! from Gabrielle\u2019 [Fleurange], she exclaimed. \u2018The very letter I\nwas expecting to-day.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe opened it and hastily ran over its contents. \u2018Very well\ndone\u2014very,\u2019 she said. \u2018Nothing could be more natural. She hit upon the\nvery best thing to say.... Here, Adelardi,\u2019 continued she, throwing him\nthe letter, \u2018read it. It must be owned that this Gabrielle is reliable\nand true to her word. Moreover, she has a good deal of wit.\u2019\n\n\u201cAdelardi attentively read the letter.\n\n\u201c\u2018What you have just remarked, princess, is very true; but this time\ncircumstances have favored you. This letter was not written for the\noccasion; it is sincere from beginning to end. This young girl can keep\na secret, but is incapable of prevarication. This is not the kind of a\nletter she would have written if the contents were not absolutely true.\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Do you think so?\u2019 said the princess. \u201cIt is of no consequence,\nhowever, as to that, though it would simplify everything still more.\nBut in that case\u2014ah! _ciel!_ let me look at the letter again.\u2019\n\n\u201cShe now read it entirely through, instead of merely glancing at the\ncontents.\n\n\u201c\u2018But in that case, I have lost my physician, and the only one who\never understood my case. This, _par exemple!_ is a real misfortune. If\nhe had had time, at least, to answer my last letter, and tell me what\nsprings I should go to this year! Whom shall I consult now? May is\nnearly gone, and next month I ought to be there. Really, I am unlucky!\u2019\n\n\u201c\u2018What do you expect, princess?\u2019 said the marquis, in a tone\nimperceptibly ironical. \u2018One cannot always have good luck.\u2019\u201d\n\nIn the quiet of her German retreat, Fleurange suddenly receives the\nnews that an insurrection has broken out in Russia, in which George is\nimplicated. He is taken prisoner, and only awaits in St. Petersburg the\nsentence which is to banish him to that living tomb, Siberia. Fleurange\nnow sees the opportunity of uniting herself to her lover by burying\nherself with him. As his hopes in this world are for ever blasted, she\nobtains the consent of the princess to their union, and sets out for\nSt. Petersburg under the guidance of her young cousin Clement, who\nknows the object of her mission. This journey and its results complete\nthe fourth book, entitled \u201cThe Immolation,\u201d and in it the author rises\nto a height of power in pathos, description, and incident which is all\nthe more telling that it was altogether unsuspected: The long ride\nalong the dreary strand through the day and through the night; the\ncrossing of the frozen river in the darkness, with the ice cracking\nominously beneath them; the scene where Clement and Fleurange are left\nalone in the face of eternity and immediate death, and where, for the\nfirst and last time, when hope of life seems banished, the confession\nof his love bursts out of his young heart to the half-conscious\ngirl; the last struggle to carry her safe through on her mission of\nself-immolation to the man she loves\u2014all told in the same simple,\nunpretentious style, but with an inner force that carries the reader\nalong, and absorbs him as though he were witnessing a tragedy.\nThe strain is sustained to the close of the story. Amid all the\nfascination, and glitter, and glare of the imperial court of the Czar,\nwhen the late Emperor Nicholas was in his \u201cgolden prime,\u201d creeps the\noppressive sense of a mute but awful terrorism through an atmosphere\nof combustible human passion all the more dangerous for being so\nconstrained. The petition of Fleurange is about to be granted; but, as\nit passes through the hands of Vera, a favorite maid of the empress, it\nis represented as coming from her, between whom and George a sort of\nbetrothal had taken place, and who is in love with him. His sentence,\nthrough the instrumentality of Fleurange, is commuted to pardon on\ncondition that he should pass four years on his estates in Livonia,\nand that he marry Vera before setting out. George is ignorant of the\narrival of Fleurange, of her petition, of her desire to bury herself\nalive with him in Siberia. Vera sees Fleurange, and implores her to\nsave him by the still greater sacrifice of renouncing him for ever.\nFleurange goes back again without a word. The man for whom she made so\nmany sacrifices was utterly unworthy of her, and congratulates himself\nthat he escaped committing the foolishness of marrying her, though\nreally in love with her for a time. The selfishness of the mother\ncomes out in the son. As Fleurange and her cousin turn homewards, they\nmeet the bridal party leaving the church. Once more she seeks to bury\nherself in the convent, and once more Madre Maddalena warns her back.\nShe tells her that, at her first visit, her sufferings appeared as the\nexpiation of an idolatry the extent of which she did not realize; but\nthat something more was essential\u2014the shattering of the idol, though\nits destruction seemed to involve the very breaking of her own heart.\n\nThe shattering of Dorothea\u2019s idol brings a blank despair; and although\nshe marries Ladislaw, and is presumably happy with him, nevertheless\nshe felt \u201cthat there was always something better which she might\nhave done, if she had only been better and known better.\u201d The final\nshattering of Fleurange\u2019s idol brings peace and opens her eyes to the\nsilent heroism that had stood at her side all through, and for every\npang of hers suffered a thousand. There is a vast amount of latent\npower in this story that stands out the more it is considered. Clement\nis kept in the background through much of the action. We only know that\nhe loves Fleurange, and, prominently as her self-sacrifice is advanced,\nthe shadow of his always overreaches it with the quiet that becomes a\ntrue man. At last her eyes are opened, and she sees, no longer Clement,\n\u201cher brother,\u201d but Clement, the man who has loved her all the while.\nThe closeness of their relationship\u2014that of first cousins\u2014was almost\nnecessary to bring out this part of the story, their almost continual\nintercourse after their first seeing each other, without the idea ever\noccurring to Fleurange that her cousin, who was a stranger to her up\nto the age of eighteen, might possibly fall in love with her. It is no\nencouragement to marriage within the prohibited degrees to hit upon\nsuch an incident once in a story; as little as it is necessary to\ninform the Catholic reader of what he or she will know beforehand: that\nthe dispensation of the church is necessary to the contracting such a\nmarriage.\n\nThe book, which has only been touched upon in its leading character,\nwill afford an excellent foil to _Middlemarch_ in many ways. The\nlatter, as perhaps the very title indicates, devotes itself chiefly\nto the English _middle_ class. _Fleurange_ gives pleasant glimpses\nof German and Italian life with what, from intrinsic evidence, might\nbe judged to be a very true picture of the Russian court and social\natmosphere. Though there are plenty of titled folk, it is a consolation\nfor once to find a princess talking like a rational being; not\nalways addressing her attendant as \u201cminion,\u201d her butler as \u201cslave,\u201d\nand terrifying the ears and eyes of the groundlings by the splendor\nof her cheap tragedy rhetoric, the glory of her equipages, or the\ncoruscations of her diamonds. Her son, the count, does not, as do most\nof his class in the titled novel, divide his time between the stable\nand the green-room. The marquis is not \u201ca villain of the deepest dye,\u201d\nwhether natural or artificial. Though an Italian, he does not carry a\npoison philter about with him; he employs no bravos, he never carries\noff Chastity in the shape of a milliner, to be finally chastised by\nVirtue in a smock-frock. In fact, all these titled folk are very\nunlike the article one is accustomed to find within flaming covers.\nThe heartlessness and artificiality almost necessarily evoked in the\nhigh social atmosphere which Fleurange breathes for a time, is none the\nless strikingly brought out because it is not taken in epigrammatic\nparcels, as it were, and flung in your face, after the manner of the\nauthor of _Middlemarch_. The lesson of Felix Dornthall\u2019s wicked life\nis none the less impressive because, when dying in the hospital ward,\nCharity stands by his bedside and prays for him as the ill-spent life\nflickers out in the darkness. It is no shock to human feelings to see\nFleurange in her bitter hours kneel down and pray for help to a God she\nbelieves can help her. If life is not all \u201cbeer and skittles,\u201d neither\nis it all a continual mistake and a bitter trial. If we cannot have\n\u201cideal perfection,\u201d it may be a consolation to some to feel assured\nthat we can do very well without it, and that there is something in the\nstriving after _real_ perfection worthy of human endeavor. To George\nEliot, the world was born yesterday, and only grew with her growing\nfaculties. Christianity has practically gone by, and this is not the\nage for its heroes and heroines. The sham and the cant of it only\nremain. As long as the sham and the cant produce such characters as\nMadre Maddalena, Fleurange, Dr. Leblanc, and Clement, we shall welcome\nthe sham and the cant in preference to the reality which can only give\nus Dorothea and Lydgate as types of true nobility and all that the\nperfection of manhood and womanhood may expect to come to nowadays.\nWhilst admiring the wit, and the worldly wisdom, and that power which\nonly ripened genius can give of saying the best thing in the best\nway which _Middlemarch_ displays throughout, we confess to a little\nheartsickness at seeing all the nature of a woman author going out over\nRosamond Vincy.\n\n_Fleurange_ is certainly a relief after the unnatural atmosphere\nof _Middlemarch_, where all is false, uncertain, cold, hard, and\nbrilliant. Though the story is very human, and in this respect has\nnot a whit less of earth than the other, it suffers nothing by an\noccasional glimpse of heaven. Poor humanity likes a little hope,\nparticularly when it has a very sound title to hope. These two authors\ntraverse it as a hospital; the one surgeon-like, knife in hand, cutting\nand lopping the useless and unsightly limbs with bright, keen weapon\nand merciless precision, leaving the dead to bury their dead; the\nother, like a sister of charity, to bandage the wound, and comfort\nthe sick, and pray by the dying. How different is the same scene to\nthe eyes of each, and how different is each in the eyes of the sick\npatients! While they admire the skill of the one, they shudder and\nturn instinctively from her; on the other streaming eyes are bent, and\ntroubled hearts murmur, \u201cGod bless you!\u201d\n\n\n\n\nGRAPES AND THORNS.\n\nBY THE AUTHOR OF \u201cTHE HOUSE OF YORKE.\u201d\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\nAN INCH OF FRINGE.\n\nMR. SCH\u00d6NINGER had been in such haste to keep his engagement the\nevening before that he had made the rehearsal a short one, and the\ncompany did not remain long after he went. Perhaps the family did not\nseem to them quite so gay and pleasant as usual. Certainly no one\nobjected much to their going. The only remonstrance was that uttered by\nAnnette, when Lawrence Gerald took his hat to follow the last visitor.\n\n\u201cWhat! are you going, too?\u201d she exclaimed involuntarily. She was\nlearning not to reproach him for anything, but it was impossible to\nconceal her disappointment.\n\nHe showed no impatience. On the contrary, his voice was quiet and even\nkind when he answered her.\n\n\u201cYou cannot think it would be very pleasant for me to stay this\nevening,\u201d he said. \u201cI want to wipe away some disagreeable impressions\nbefore I come again. Besides, I must finish my afternoon\u2019s writing\nto-night.\u201d\n\nShe had to own that he might well shrink from meeting her mother again\njust then, particularly as the lady did not seem to have recovered\nher good-humor. In fact, while they were standing together near the\nconservatory, she crossed the front hall from one room to another, and\ncast a watchful glance back at them, as if she would have liked to come\nnearer, but hesitated to do so.\n\nAt sight of her, they turned away, and went out through the garden\ndoor at the rear of the long hall, and came round the house instead of\ngoing through it. This garden was extensive, occupying nearly or quite\ntwo acres of land, and was surrounded by a low stone wall overgrown in\nsome places with vines, in others shaded by shrubs or trees. Crichton\nwas so well governed that high walls were not necessary to protect the\ngardens, especially when people were so well known to be perfectly\nwilling and able to protect their rights as the Ferriers. A few notable\nexamples, made in a very spirited manner at the beginning of their\nresidence, had inspired transgressors with a wholesome awe of them\nand their premises. Not a flower was broken, not a cherry nor a plum\ndisappeared from their trees, not an intruding footstep printed their\nwalks.\n\nThese grounds were now sweet with a profusion of June roses, and so\npink that, as Annette walked through them with her lover, they appeared\nto be flushed with sunset, though sunset had quite faded, leaving only\na pure twilight behind. Besides the newly planted trees, which were\nsmall, a few large maples had been left from the original forest, and\nshaded here and there a circle of velvet sward. A superb border of blue\nflower-de-luce enclosed the whole with its band of fragrant sapphire.\n\nThe two walked slowly round the house without speaking, and Lawrence\nstepped through the gate, then, turning, leaned on it. Once out of Mrs.\nFerrier\u2019s presence, he was not in such haste to go. Two linden-trees in\nbloom screened them from observation as they stood there; and, since\npride no longer compelled him to keep up an indifferent or a defiant\nmanner, the young man yielded to his mood. He was sad, and seemed to\nfeel even a sort of despair. In a weak way he had admired all that\nwas admirable, and despised all that was ignoble, yet he had lacked\nthe resolution necessary to secure his own approval. He was still\nnoble enough to feel the loss of that more bitterly than any outside\ncondemnation. When he could, he deceived himself, and excused his own\nshortcomings; but when some outward attack tore aside the flimsy veil,\nand showed him how he might be criticised, or when some stirring appeal\nrevived the half-smothered ideal within him, then he needed all the\nsoothing that friendship or flattery could bestow. While listening\nto Mrs. Ferrier that afternoon, he had not been able to exclude the\nhumiliating conviction that he had himself forged the chains that\nheld him in that ignoble dependence, and that ten years of earnest\nendeavor would have set him in a position to command the fulfilment\nof his wishes. But now, he assured himself, it was too late to begin.\nHis earliest foe, his own nature, had allied itself with one scarcely\nless strong, a pernicious habit, and it was now two to one. He must be\nhelped, must go on with this engagement, and patch up the life which he\ncould not renew.\n\n\u201cIf she would give up the point of our living with her, all would\nbe well,\u201d he said presently. \u201cWhy couldn\u2019t we board at the Crichton\nHouse? I don\u2019t mean to be idle, and don\u2019t wish to be. I wouldn\u2019t make\nany promises to her, Annette, and I won\u2019t make them to any one who\nthreatens me; but I am willing to tell you that I really mean to try.\nAll I want is to get out of my little way of living, and have a fair\nstart. You know I never had a chance.\u201d\n\nHis lip and voice were unsteady, and, as he looked up appealingly\ninto her face, she saw that his eyes were full of tears. A grief and\nself-pity too great for words possessed him. That element of childlike\ntenderness and dependence which survives the time of childhood in some\nmen, as well as in most women, made him long for the pity and sympathy\nof one to whom he had never given either sympathy or pity.\n\nAnnette, woman-like, found no fault, or at least expressed none. It\nwas enough if he needed her sympathy. She had thought that he only\nneeded her wealth. Her heart ached with pity for him, and swelled with\nindignation against all who would censure him. His foes were her foes.\n\n\u201cI know you never had a chance, Lawrence,\u201d she said fervently; \u201cbut\nnever mind that now. You shall have one. F. Chevreuse shall talk to\nmamma, and make her give me at once what I am to have. It is my right.\nDon\u2019t be unhappy about the past, nor blame yourself in anything.\nAll lives are not to follow one plan. Why should you have begun as a\ndrudge, and spent all these years in laying up a little money? What\nbetter would you be now for having the experience of an errand-boy\nand a clerk, and for the memory of a thousand mortifications and\nself-denials? You might have two or three thousand dollars capital,\nand be, at best, a junior partner in some paltry firm, which I should\ninsist on your leaving. Is that so much to regret?\u201d\n\nHe smiled faintly, and, his cause being so well defended, ventured to\nattack it. \u201cTo be mortified is not necessarily to be degraded,\u201d he\nsaid. \u201cI shouldn\u2019t have been obliged to listen to the lecture I heard\nthis afternoon.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe degradation of that rests with me!\u201d she exclaimed hastily, with\na painful blush on her face. \u201cI do not like to think nor speak of it,\nand I wish you would try to forget it. The time is come for me to tell\nmamma that I am not a child. Leave all to me. I never fail when I am\nroused, and I promise you, Lawrence, you shall not bear more than one\nother insult for my sake. And for the past, I charge you again, do not\nsuffer any one to dictate to you what you should have done. Let them\ncorrect themselves, which will, perhaps, be sufficient to employ their\ntime.\u201d\n\nShe could see he was cheered, not much, but a little. He tossed his\nhead back, and glanced about with an air of renewed courage and\ndetermination. But no thought for the heart that he had burdened with\nhis pain and care entered his mind. She had given her help eagerly,\nglad to give, and he accepted it as a matter of course, and, having got\nwhat he wanted, went away with a careless good-night.\n\nAnnette went into the house, and soon the doors were locked. Mrs.\nFerrier always went to bed early, and the servants usually followed her\nexample.\n\nAnnette leaned from her window, and counted the city lights going out,\nand the noises sinking into silence. As it grew later, the sound of the\nCocheco became fitfully audible, borne on the cool northwestern breeze,\nand presently grew steadier, till only one other sound, the pulse of a\nfar-away steam-mill, was heard tossing on that spray-like murmur like a\nlittle ball on the water-column of a fountain.\n\nCool as it was, the room seemed close to her. She was restless, too,\nyet could not move about without being heard by her mother. So she\nopened her door, and crept softly down-stairs. The long drawing-room\nwindows looking into the conservatory had been left open, and some\nof the sashes in the conservatory were still lowered from the top. A\nlight and fragrant breeze came through, bringing a sound of rustling\nleaves. She stepped over the sill, and threw herself down on a sofa\njust outside. The large space was a relief from that cramped feeling\nthat had brought her down-stairs. Besides, there was only glass between\nher and all out-doors. She saw the star-lighted skies, those languid\nstars of summer, soft as humid eyes, and the dark trees of the garden,\nand the faint outline of hills against the near southwestern horizon.\nThe flowering plants showed like black shadows lurking about the bases\nof the pillars, and the pillars themselves appeared to stretch upward\nto the sky, and curl over in capitals of purple acanthus-leaves fringed\nwith stars.\n\nAnnette rested her head on the sofa-cushions. The space and motion\noutside and the waving boughs and vines had a quieting effect; yet she\nwas in that state of feverish wakefulness wherein one can be quiet only\nin a position from which it is possible to start at any moment.\n\nHer life was changing in its hopes and aims, and she was in all the\ntumult of that revolution. The vague, sweet expectations and rosy hopes\nwhich are planted in the heart of every female infant, which spring\nup and bud in the maiden\u2019s soul, which blossom or are nipped in the\nwoman\u2019s, as God shall will, were withered in hers, had withered long\nago, and she was only now owning it to herself. There was to be no\ntender homage and care for her. No one was to take delight in her, to\nseek her for herself, to think anxiously lest she be grieved or hurt.\nWhatever pain might come to her in life, she must bear it in silence.\nTo tell it where alone sympathy would be precious and helpful to her\nwould be to bore her listener. Hers was the part to give, not to\nreceive. Without a man\u2019s strength and hardness, she was to take the\nman\u2019s portion, support, cheer, encourage, and defend, and all without\nthanks.\n\nAn awful sense of isolation seized upon her. There had come to her that\nmoment which comes to some, perhaps to most people, once in a life,\nwhen all the universe seems to withdraw, and the soul hangs desolate in\nthe midst of space, the whole of creation alien. One shrinks from life\nthen, and would gladly hide in death.\n\nAnnette was too sad and weary to cry out. She lay quiet, and looked\nat the tree-shadows. Some good thought crossed her mind, a whisper of\nher guardian angel, or an inspiration of the Comforter\u2014\u201cFall down and\npray to God for help!\u201d it said; but found her insensible. A human love\ninexpressibly bitter and engrossing blunted her heart to all else. She\nmutely asked God to be merciful to her, but formed no other petition.\n\nWhile she gazed without abstractedly, only half conscious of what she\nsaw, a darker shadow appeared under a tree just visible past the angle\nof the house. What seemed to be a man\u2019s form leaned forward partially\ninto her view, drew something from a garden-chair under the tree,\nthen disappeared. She was too much occupied by her own thoughts to be\nalarmed, and, moreover, was not in any danger. She only wondered a\nlittle what it might mean, and presently understood. Mr. Sch\u00f6ninger,\ncoming from a long drive that afternoon, had brought a shawl over his\narm, and she had noticed after he went away that it had been forgotten\non the garden-chair where he had thrown it on entering. It might be\nthat, returning home now, he had recollected, and come into the garden\nfor it.\n\nSlight as the incident was, it broke the train of her painful thoughts.\nShe sat up with a gesture that flung the past with all its beautiful\nhopes and wishes behind her, and welcomed the one thought that came\nin their stead, sad yet sweet, like a smile half quenched in tears.\nLawrence Gerald did not love her, but he needed her, and she took up\nher cross, this time with an upward glance.\n\nWhen we have set self aside, from whatever motive, the appeal to God\nfor help is instinctive, and seems less a call than the answer to a\ncall. As though Infinite Love, which for love\u2019s sake sacrificed a God,\ncould not see a trembling human soul binding itself for the altar\nwithout claiming kindred with it. \u201cMy child, the spark that lights thy\npyre is from my heart. Hold by me, and it shall not burn in vain.\u201d\n\nYet that the happiness of giving love and help is nobler and more\nelevating than the pleasure of receiving them Annette did not then\nrealize, perhaps would not have believed. Who does believe it, or, at\nleast, who acts upon the belief till after long and severe discipline,\ntill the world has lost its hold on the heart, and it has placed all\nits hopes in the future? Fine sentiments drop easily from the lips of\nthose to whom they cost nothing, or who have forgotten the struggles by\nwhich their own peace was won. Those who are fed can talk eloquently\nof patience under starvation, and those who are warmed can cry out on\nthe folly of the poor traveller who sinks to sleep under the snowdrift.\nVerily, preaching is easy, and there is no one who has such breath to\nutter heroic sentiments as he who never puts them in practice.\n\nAs Annette lay there, growing quieter now that all was settled, clouds\ncame up from behind the hills, and slowly extinguished the stars.\nOpaline lightnings quivered and expanded inside those heavy mists\nwithout piercing them, as though some winged creature of fire were\nimprisoned there, and fluttering to escape; and every time the air grew\nluminous, the azaleas and rhododendrons bloomed rose-red out of their\nshadows. Deep and mellow thunders rolled incessantly, and a thick rain\ncame down in drops so fine that the sound of their falling was but a\nwhisper. It was a thunder-storm played _piano_. Annette was lulled to\na light sleep, through which she still heard the storm, as in a dream,\ngrowing softer till it ceased. And no sooner did she dream it had\nceased than she dreamed it had recommenced, with a clamor of rain and\nthunder, and a wind that shook the doors and windows, and a flash like\na shriek that syllabled her name.\n\nShe started up in affright. The sky was clear and calm, and the storm\nhad all passed by; but the wet trees in the garden shone with a red\nlight from the windows, and there was noise and a hurrying to and fro\nin the house, and her mother was calling her with hysterical cries.\n\nAnnette would have answered, but her tongue was paralyzed with that\nsudden fear. She could only hasten into the house with what speed the\ndeathly sickness of such an awakening allowed her.\n\nMrs. Ferrier was walking through the rooms, wringing her hands, and\ncalling for her daughter. \u201cWhere is Annette? What has become of\nAnnette?\u201d The servants stood about, silent and confounded by the noisy\ngrief of their mistress, unable to do anything but stare at her.\n\nThere is usually but one chief mourner on such occasions, however many\ncandidates there may be for the office. The one who first raises the\nvoice of lamentation leaves the others _hors de combat_.\n\nIn one of her turns, Mrs. Ferrier saw Annette leaning pale and mute on\na chair near by.\n\n\u201cO Annette, Annette! do you know what has happened? Oh! what shall I\ndo?\u201d she cried.\n\nAnnette could only cling to the chair for support. Her mouth and throat\nwere too dry for speech.\n\n\u201cSomebody has killed Mother Chevreuse!\u201d The girl slipped down to her\nknees, and hid her face a moment. Nothing had happened to Lawrence,\nthank God! Then she stood up, shocked and grieved indeed, but no longer\npowerless.\n\n\u201cWill you tell me what it is, John?\u201d she asked, turning to the man.\n\u201cTell me all you know about it.\u201d\n\nHer mother\u2019s noise and volubility were too irritating.\n\nJohn\u2019s story was soon told. Lawrence Gerald, having been awakened by\na messenger from the priest\u2019s house, had been up there to call them\nbefore going for F. Chevreuse. He wished some of them to come down\nimmediately.\n\nAnnette\u2019s mind was clear and prompt in any emergency which did not\ntouch her too nearly. She saw at once all that was necessary to be done.\n\n\u201cMa, please don\u2019t take all the attention to yourself,\u201d she said rather\nimpatiently. \u201cIt isn\u2019t you who are killed. Try to think of what should\nbe done. John, you and Bettie will go down with me. The rest of you\nlock the house securely, and let no one in whom you don\u2019t know. Louis\nand Jack will take care of you.\u201d\n\nBettie flew with alacrity to prepare herself, willing to brave all\nperils in the company of John; but, coming down again, found that her\nmistress was also going. There was no help for it. The servant-maid\nfell humbly into the rear, while Mrs. Ferrier clung to the arm of\nthe footman, and saw an assassin in every shadow. At sight of a man\nhurrying up the hill toward them, she cried out, and would have fled if\nher daughter had not held her.\n\n\u201cNonsense, ma! it\u2019s Lawrence,\u201d Annette said, and went to meet the\nbreathless messenger.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m going after F. Chevreuse,\u201d he explained. \u201cCan I have one of your\nhorses?\u201d\n\nHe stopped only for Annette\u2019s reply: \u201cTake anything you want!\u201d then\nhurried on up the hill.\n\nThe little cottage by the church was all alight, and people were\nhurrying about, and standing in the open door and the entry.\n\n\u201cNow, recollect, ma, you must keep quiet, and not get in anybody\u2019s\nway,\u201d was the daughter\u2019s last charge as they drew near; then they went\ninto the house.\n\nHonora Pembroke met Annette at the door of the inner room. The two\ngirls clasped hands in silence. They understood each other. The one was\nstrong to endure with calmness, the other strong to do with calmness;\nand, till F. Chevreuse should come, all rested on them. Mrs. Gerald,\nweaker of nerve, could only sit and gaze about her, and do what she was\ntold to do. Jane was in the hands of officers, who were trying to find\nout what she knew, and prevent her saying too much to others. It was\nnot an easy task; for what the woman knew and what she suspected were\nmingled in inextricable confusion, and the only relief her excitement\ncould find was in pouring out the whole to whoever would listen. An\nargument was, however, found to silence her.\n\n\u201cYou will help the rogue to escape if you tell one word,\u201d the detective\nsaid. \u201cIf you want him to be punished, you must hold your tongue. Have\nyou told any one?\u201d\n\n\u201cNobody but Lawrence Gerald,\u201d Jane answered, recovering her\nself-control. It would be hard to keep silence, but she could do it for\nthe sake of punishing _that man_.\n\n\u201cWell, say nothing to any one else. Look now, and remember how it\nlooks, then forget all about it till you are asked in court.\u201d\n\nJane and the two policemen in the little room with them drew nearer and\nscrutinized closely the contents of a slip of paper that the detective\nheld in his hand. It was an inch or so of grey worsted fringe torn\nfrom a shawl; and, clinging to the fragment, a single human hair, of a\npeculiar light-brown shade.\n\nPoor Mother Chevreuse! This little clue had been found clenched in her\nstiffening fingers when they took her up.\n\nThe three looked intently, then drew back, and the detective carefully\nfolded the paper again, and placed it in his pocket-book.\n\nAn hour later, F. Chevreuse arrived. We will not enter the house with\nhim. The two guests that there await him, death and an unspeakable\ngrief, demand that homage of us, that we do not intrude.\n\nAs Lawrence Gerald was driving away from the door after having brought\nthe priest, Jane called out to him, and, when he stopped, leaned over\nthe wheel into the carriage.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t let a soul on earth know what I told you we found in her hand,\nnor what I saw,\u201d she whispered.\n\nHe muttered some half-stifled word about not being a tattler.\n\n\u201cPromise me you won\u2019t,\u201d she persisted, laying her hand on his arm.\n\nHe gave the promise impatiently\u2014women\u2019s ways are so annoying when one\nis excited and in haste\u2014shook her hand off, and drove away.\n\nLet us pass over the first days that followed. The gossip, the\nwonderment, the show of grief that is merely excitement, and, still\nmore, the grief that is real, and shrinks from showing itself\u2014who\nwould not wish to escape sight and sound of them? We may well believe\nthat one so beloved and honored was followed to her last home by the\ntears and blessings of a crowd, and that one so bereaved was the object\nof an immense sympathy and affection. We may also be sure that those\nto whom the law gives in charge the search for such offenders did not\nneglect their task. We will not fraternize with the detectives nor with\nthe gossips. Let them do their work, each after his kind.\n\nWhen weeks had passed away, Mrs. Gerald had not yet dared to mention\nhis loss to F. Chevreuse; but he spoke of it to her; and, having\nonce spoken, she felt sure that he wished the subject to be avoided\nthereafter.\n\n\u201cIt seems to me that I never was a real priest till now,\u201d he said. \u201cI\nwas not conscious of making any sacrifice. I had a pleasant home, and\none there to whom I was all in all. Now I have no earthly tie, nothing\nto come between me and my Master\u2019s work. I don\u2019t mean to say that she\nwas an obstacle; on the contrary, she was a great help; but she was\nalso an immense comfort, more a comfort than I deserve, perhaps. I do\nnot deny that it is sad, but I know also that it is well. There are no\naccidents in God\u2019s providence. The only thought almost too hard for me\nto bear is that I took her affection so carelessly. She gave her all,\nand I did not remember to tell her that it was precious to me. She was\na tender, loving creature, and, when I was a child, she gave me that\nfondness that children need. I forgot that she might need fondness as\nmuch when she grew old. I forgot that, while I had a thousand duties,\nand interests, and friends, she had nothing but me.\n\n\u201cIt is too late to talk of it now; but if I could have been permitted\none minute to go on my knees to her, and bless and thank her for all\nher love, I could bear this better. For that man, whoever he may be, I\nhave no feeling but pity. Unless the safety of others should require\nit, I hope he may not be taken. I haven\u2019t a doubt the unfortunate\nwretch wanted the money, but didn\u2019t mean to hurt any one, except in\nself-defence. I do not wish to know who he is.\u201d\n\nMrs. Gerald was too much affected to utter a word in reply. It did not\nseem to be F. Chevreuse who was speaking to her in that sad voice, from\nwhich the ringing tone had quite gone, and that pale face was not like\nhis. It seemed, too, that in those few weeks his hair had grown white.\n\nHe resumed after a moment: \u201cThere are some things at the house I would\nlike to have you see to. Whatever is valuable in money, the silver\nand a few other things, I mean shall go toward a new altar-service.\nShe wished it. But there are some trinkets and things that she used,\nand clothing and books, that I would like to have you take away. I\ndon\u2019t want to see them about. Let Honora choose whatever she likes for\nherself. My mother was fond of her. Keep what you wish, and give some\nlittle _souvenirs_ to those who would value them for her sake. And now\nlet us set our faces forward, and waste no time in vain lamentations.\u201d\n\n\u201cO Mrs. Gerald!\u201d Jane cried, when the lady went there in compliance\nwith the priest\u2019s request, \u201cmy heart is broke! All the light is gone\nout of the house.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t speak of that,\u201d Mrs. Gerald said. \u201cTell me of F. Chevreuse. Is\nhe quiet? Does he eat anything?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe eats about as much as would keep a fly,\u201d the housekeeper sighed.\n\u201cBut he sits at the table, and tries the best he can. If you\u2019d seen him\nthe first night after it was all over! I came up and poured the tea\nout for him, and, indeed, my eyes were so full I came near scalding\nmyself with it. He took something on his plate, and made believe taste\nof it, and talked in a cheerful sort of way about the weather and about\nsomething he wanted to have done. But when he saw my hand holding the\ncup out to him, he stopped short in what he was saying, and choked up,\nand then he leaned back in his chair and burst out a-crying. It was\nthe same little cup and spoon she always gave him, but it wasn\u2019t the\nsame woman that held it across the table for him to take. And I set\nthe cup down and cried too: what else? And, \u2018Jane,\u2019 says he, \u2018where\u2019s\nthe little hand that for years has been stretched out to me every\nevening?\u2019 What could the like of me say, ma\u2019am, to comfort a priest\nin his sorrow? I couldn\u2019t help speaking, though, and says I, \u2018May be\nthere isn\u2019t the length of the table between you,\u2019 says I, \u2018and the\nlittle hand is holding out the first bitter cup it ever offered you\nto drink. But, oh! drink it, father dear,\u2019 says I, \u2018and may be you\u2019ll\nfind a blessing at the bottom.\u2019 And then I was so ashamed of myself\nfor preaching to the priest that I ran out of the room. After a little\nwhile his bell rang, and I wiped my eyes, and went in. And there he sat\nwith a trembling kind of a smile on his face, and says he, \u2018Jane, how\nam I to get my tea at all?\u2019 So I gave him the cup, and went and stood\nby the fireplace. And he talked about things in the house, and asked me\nif I didn\u2019t want my mother to come and live with me. The Lord knows I\ndidn\u2019t, ma\u2019am, through my mother not being overneat, besides taking a\ndrop now and then. But it\u2019s decenter, and so I said yes. And when I was\ncheered up a little, he sent me out. But when I was going through the\ndoor, he spoke to me, and says he, \u2018Jane!\u2019 And when I looked back, and\nsaid \u2018Sir!\u2019 says he, \u2018Jane, you\u2019re right. There is a blessing at the\nbottom of it.\u2019 And he smiled in a way that was sadder than tears. Since\nthat he has the tray set at his elbow, and pours the tea for himself.\nAnd now, ma\u2019am, I\u2019m going to tell you something that you mustn\u2019t let\nanybody know, for may be I oughtn\u2019t to speak of it. That first night\nfollowing the funeral I heard him walking about his room after I went\nto bed, and I knew he couldn\u2019t sleep; though, indeed, it was little\nthat any of us slept that night. Well, by-and-by, when I\u2019d been drowsy\nlike, I heard him go out into the entry, and I thought that perhaps\nsome one had rung the bell. I was frightened for fear of who it might\nbe; so I got up, and threw something on, and crept up the stairs, and\npeeped through the rail, all ready to scream for help. I watched him\nopen the door, with the street-lamp shining not far off; and, O Mrs.\nGerald! if he didn\u2019t kneel down there and kiss the threshold where she\nstood that night watching him drive away; and he cried that pitiful\nthat it was all I could do not to cry out loud myself, and let him know\nI was there.\u201d\n\nThe first sharpness of the impression made by this event wore away,\nand people began to talk of other things. Some wealthy Protestants\nof Crichton made up for F. Chevreuse the money he had lost, and thus\nsoothed their regret for the loss which they could not repair to him.\nEven those who were most grieved felt their lives closing over the\nwound. Duties and plans that had been interrupted were resumed, among\nthem that for a concert in aid of the new convent. Miss Ferrier\u2019s\nrehearsal had been a last preparation for this concert, which had been\npostponed on account of the death of Mother Chevreuse, and it was\nnecessary to have another.\n\nAnnette threw herself into these preparations with spirit. Her affairs\nwere prospering as well as she could expect. F. Chevreuse had talked\nwith Mrs. Ferrier, and brought her to reason, and Lawrence had been\ninduced to yield a little. It was settled that the marriage should\ntake place on the first of September, and the young couple spend one\nyear with the mother. After that they were to be free to go where they\nliked, Annette with an ample allowance assured her, and a promise that\nthe property should be equally divided in case of her mother\u2019s death.\n\n\u201cThe young man is behaving very well,\u201d F. Chevreuse said, \u201cand he ought\nto be trusted and encouraged. He goes regularly to Mass, and attends\nclosely to his business. I shall not soon forget how much he did for me\nwhen\u2014when I was away that night. The shock seems to have awakened him.\nHe sees what indolence and unfixed principles may lead to, and that a\nman who rocks like a boat on the tide of his own passions may drift\nanywhere. We must be good to him.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you would only give him a plain talking to, father,\u201d Mrs. Ferrier\nsaid. She had an immense faith in the power of talk. \u201cIf you would tell\nhim what he ought to do, and what he ought not to do. Just warn him.\u201d\n\nThe priest shook his head.\n\n\u201cI believe in sometimes leaving God to warn in his own way,\u201d he said.\n\u201cIt is a mistake for even the wisest man to be perpetually thrusting\nhis clumsy fingers into the delicate workings of the human soul. We are\npriests, but we are not Gods; and men and women are not fools. They\nshould be left to themselves sometimes. God has occasional messages for\nhis children which do not need our intervention. Too much direction is\ndegrading to an intelligent soul.\u201d\n\nF. Chevreuse had been involuntarily expressing the thought that\nstarted up in his own mind rather than addressing his companion; and,\nseeing at a glance that she had not understood a word of what he had\nbeen saying, he smilingly adapted his talk to her comprehension.\n\n\u201cI heard a story once,\u201d he said, \u201cof a careful mother who was going\naway from home to spend the day. Before starting, she called her\nchildren about her, and, after telling them of certain things which\nthey were not to do, she concluded in this wise: \u2018And don\u2019t you go up\ninto the back attic, to the dark corner behind the big chimney, and\ntake up a loose board in the floor, and pull out a bag of dry beans\nthere is there, and get beans in your noses.\u2019 Then she went away,\nhaving forbidden every evil which she could imagine might happen to\nthem. When she came home at night, every child had a bean up its nose.\nDon\u2019t you see she had better not have said anything about those beans?\nThe children didn\u2019t know where they were. No; if you want to keep\nany one from evil, talk to him of what is good. The more you look at\nevil, even to abuse it, the less shocking it is to you. The more you\ntalk about it, the more people will do it. Sometimes it must be spoken\nof; but beware of saying too much. Do you know when darkness appears\ndarkest? When you have been looking at light. Therefore, my lady, say\nall that is pleasant to this young man, and try to forget that there\never was anything unpleasant.\u201d\n\nMrs. Ferrier was not one to oppose the earnestly expressed wish of a\nclergyman, and, at this time, all F. Chevreuse\u2019s people felt an unusual\ndesire to show him their love and obedience. Besides, she was rather\nproud of having been considered so implacable that no one but a priest\ncould influence her, and of being able to say, in defence of her change\nof plan: \u201cI did it for the sake of F. Chevreuse.\u201d She even boasted a\nlittle of this intercession, and took care it should be known that the\nchurch had begged her to be lenient, and had for a moment anxiously\nawaited her decision.\n\n\u201cBesides,\u201d she would add, \u201che takes a good deal more pains to be\npleasant now.\u201d\n\nLawrence, indeed, took no such pains, and, perhaps, liked Annette\u2019s\nmother less than ever. The only change was in herself. She had, by\nbeing civil to him, rendered it possible for him to be agreeable. When\nhe was spoken of slightingly, she had insulted him; when he was praised\nto her, she conciliated. It was not necessary that there should be any\nchange in him.\n\nAnnette, too, had taken his cause up with a high hand. The passion\nof love, which had sometimes made her timid in speaking of him, was\nunconsciously giving place to a passion of pity, which made her\nfearless. Woe to the servant who was dilatory in waiting on Mr. Gerald,\nor lacking in any sign of respect for him. He was consulted about\neverything. Not a curtain, nor chair, nor spoon could be bought till\nhe had approved. A cool \u201cI will see what Lawrence thinks of it,\u201d was\nenough to postpone a decision on any subject. \u201cHe has taste, and we\nhave nothing but money.\u201d If the phrase is not a contradiction, it\nmight be said that she abased herself haughtily in order to exalt him.\nIf they had company to dinner, Lawrence must glance over the list of\ndishes; if a new plant arrived, he must advise where it should be set;\nif a stranger came to town, it was for Lawrence to decide whether the\nFerriers should show him hospitality.\n\n\u201cI think our rehearsal may as well be also a little garden-party,\u201d\nAnnette said to him. \u201cWe need scarcely any practice, nothing to speak\nof, everything went so well the last time.\u201d\n\nShe was tying on her bonnet before a mirror in the drawing room, and\nLawrence stood by a window, hat in hand, looking out at the carriage\nwaiting at the gate. He did not seem to have heard her.\n\n\u201cI should only ask a few persons who will be sure to go to the concert\nand help along,\u201d she continued, twirling lightly about to see if the\nvoluminous folds of her black silk train fell properly. She wanted\nLawrence to notice her, for she was looking uncommonly well. Black was\nbecoming to her; and the delicate lavender gloves, and bunch of scarlet\ngeranium-flowers half lost in lace just behind her left ear, gave\nprecisely the touch of color that was needed. But he stood immovable,\nwatching the horses, perhaps, or watching nothing.\n\nSeeing him so abstracted, she looked at him a moment, remembering an\nold story she had read of Apollo apprenticed to a swine-herd. Here was\none, she thought, who might have graced Olympus, yet who had been bound\ndown to poverty, and labor, and disappointment. His pale and melancholy\nface showed that he might be mourning even now his ignominious\ncaptivity. Thank God, she could help him! He should not always be so\nsorrowful.\n\nHe moved slightly, without looking toward her, aware of her silence,\nthough he had not noticed her speech. She checked, with an effort, the\nimpulse to go to him with some affectionate inquiry, and went on with\nwhat she had been saying. \u201cWe need the editors, of course, and I can\nask Dr. Porson to bring Mr. Sales. They say he is very clever, and will\nbring _The Aurora_ up again. They will give us puffs, you know. If I\nsend the doctor a note this afternoon, he will tell Mr. Sales this\nevening, and he can write a nice little report of the rehearsal before\nhe comes to it, and have it out to-morrow morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you ready?\u201d asked Lawrence, turning round from the window.\n\n\u201cAll but this.\u201d She gave him a little gold glove-buttoner; and held out\nher hand.\n\n\u201cBy the way,\u201d she said suddenly, \u201chave you heard the story about Mr.\nSch\u00f6ninger?\u201d\n\nLawrence let slip the tiny button he had just caught, and stared at her\nin silence. Perhaps he remembered something that Jane, the priest\u2019s\nhousekeeper, had charged him not to tell.\n\n\u201cSuch a romantic story!\u201d she said, smiling at having won his attention.\n\u201cI forgot to tell you. They say that he has a lawsuit going on in\nEngland about an immense property to which he is the rightful heir.\nIt is from some very distant relative who left Germany for England a\nhundred years ago. He has no personal acquaintance with any of the\nfamily there now; but ten years ago, he learned that the heirs had died\nout leaving him nearest to the estate. He was then in Germany, and had\na little property, on which he lived like a gentleman. He spent every\ndollar he had in the effort to obtain his rights, but did not succeed.\nNeither did he fail; but more money was needed. And that\u2019s the reason\nwhy he came to this country and became a music-teacher, and why he\nlives so plainly, and works all the time. Lily Carthusen told me she\nheard that he sent money to England every quarter, and that all his\nearnings go into that lawsuit.\u201d\n\n\u201cLily Carthusen knows a great deal about other people\u2019s business,\u201d\nthe young man remarked ungraciously. \u201cShe is one of the kind who peep\ninto letters and listen at doors. I wouldn\u2019t repeat any of her stories,\nAnnette.\u201d\n\n\u201cI only tell you, Lawrence,\u201d she replied humbly.\n\n\u201cWell, I don\u2019t believe a word of it,\u201d he said. \u201cSch\u00f6ninger is a fine\nfellow; and people imagine there is some mystery about him, simply\nbecause he won\u2019t tell everybody his business, and who his grandfather\nand grandmother were. There are thousands of persons in this city who,\nif you should keep one room in your house locked, would believe that it\nwas full of stolen goods.\u201d\n\nThey were going out through the door now, and Annette assumed a bright\nsmile. No one must see her looking mortified or sad, least of all when\nshe was with Lawrence. She stepped lightly into the carriage, and gave\nher order with the air of one anticipating a charming drive. \u201cTo the\nconvent, Jack, straight through the town, and slowly.\u201d\n\nWhich meant that they intended to have some conversation, and were not\nunwilling to be observed.\n\n\u201cI always like to see the sisters when I am out of tune,\u201d Miss Ferrier\nsaid. \u201cThey are so soothing and cheerful. Besides, they are brave. They\nfear nothing. They are not always quaking, as people in the world are.\nThey have the courage of children who know that they will be taken care\nof. I always feel stronger after being with them. Not that I am usually\ntimid, though. I think I have more courage than you, Lawrence.\u201d\n\nShe smiled playfully, giving her true words the air of a jest.\n\nHe looked straight ahead, and ignored the jest. \u201cYou have a clear\nconscience, that is the reason,\u201d he replied. \u201cIt\u2019s the old serpent in\nthe tree that makes it shaky.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is very true,\u201d she said calmly, after a moment\u2019s consideration. \u201cI\ndo not believe I ever did anything wicked.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs a rule, I don\u2019t like religious people,\u201d the young man observed;\n\u201cbut I\u2019ve no objection to any of the nuns. The fact that they will wear\nunbecoming dresses and cut off their hair proves them sincere. It\u2019s the\nstrongest proof a good-looking woman could give. You needn\u2019t laugh,\nAnnette. Just think a minute, and you\u2019ll find it is so. Now, look at\nthat little Anita I saw up there once. She\u2019s as pink and white as the\ninside of a sea-shell, and her hair must be a yard long, and beautiful\nhair at that. Yet she is going to have those braids cut off, and hide\nher face under a black bonnet. That means something. I only hope she\nmay not be sorry when it is too late. I\u2019d like to talk with her. Ask to\nsee her to-day, won\u2019t you?\u201d\n\nAnnette\u2019s answer was very gravely uttered. \u201cCertainly, if you wish,\u201d\nshe said. \u201cBut you will not have much opportunity for conversation with\nher.\u201d\n\nHe roused himself, just beginning to take some interest in their talk.\n\u201cYou can manage it, Annette. Get her singing for me, then take Sister\nCecilia off out of the room.\u201d\n\nHe spoke coaxingly, and with a faint smile; but she did not lift her\neyes. \u201cYou know there must be no trifling with such a person, Lawrence.\nWhy need you wish to speak to Anita? Is it impossible for you to see an\ninteresting girl without trying to captivate her? You need not be proud\nof such success.\u201d\n\nHe threw himself back on the cushions again. \u201cOh! if you are jealous,\nthere is no more to be said about it.\u201d\n\nAs she remained silent, he presently stole a questioning glance into\nher face, and, seeing the cloud on it, smiled again. It always amused\nhim to see any evidence of his power over women, and no proof could be\nstronger than the sight of their pain.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be silly now, Ninon!\u201d he said softly. \u201cYou know I don\u2019t mean to\ntrifle nor flirt, but only to satisfy my curiosity. I never spoke to a\nyoung vestal like that, and I would like to know what sort of language\nthey use. Be good, dear!\u201d\n\nThat coaxing voice could still make her smile, though it could no\nlonger cheat her into delight. She looked at him indulgently, as one\nlooks at a spoilt child whom one has no desire to reprove, yet sighs\nover. \u201cI will do what I can, Lawrence; but you must be careful not to\nbehave so that the sisters will wish to exclude you in future.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a good girl!\u201d\n\nThen his momentary gaiety dropped off like a mask.\n\n\u201cYes, I like to see that kind of religion,\u201d he resumed. \u201cBut I hate a\ngilt-edged piety. I despise those people who are so nice that they call\nthe devil \u2018the D., you know,\u2019 and whose religion is all promenade-dress\nand genuflections. I suspect them. I was talking the other day with a\nlady who said something about the \u2018D., you know,\u2019 and I answered, \u2018No,\nI don\u2019t know. What do you mean?\u2019 She had to say it; and I haven\u2019t a\ndoubt she always says it when she is angry. Bah!\u201d\n\nThey had reached the gate, and, seeing no one, alighted and left the\ncarriage there. But Sister Cecilia met them at the entrance, her\nwelcoming smile like a benediction.\n\nAs they entered the parlor, they surprised a little domestic tableau.\nThe door leading to an inner room was partly open, and braced against\na chair in which were a pail of steaming water and a bar of soap.\nSister Bernadette, the chief music-teacher, held the door-knob in one\nhand, while with the other she was vigorously scouring the panels. Her\nsleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, a large apron covered her from\nchin to slipper, and her veil was removed. As she scoured, her full,\nsweet face was uplifted, and her large blue eyes watched the success of\nher labor with perfect earnestness and good-will.\n\nA burst of laughter revealed the spectators to her. Mr. Gerald stood\njust within the room, bowing profoundly, with gravity and some\ndiffidence, but the two ladies were thoroughly amused.\n\n\u201cWould you not think,\u201d cried Sister Cecilia, \u201cthat she expected to see\nthat dingy old door turn between her hands into the great pearl of the\nNew Jerusalem gate? You certainly did expect a miracle, Bernadette.\u201d\n\nSister Bernadette\u2019s blush was but momentary, only the rapid color of\nsurprise that faded away in dimples as she smiled. Her sleeves were\npulled down and her veil snatched on in a trice, and she went to meet\ntheir visitors with an air that would have adorned a drawing-room.\n\n\u201cSister is a witch,\u201d she said. \u201cI was thinking of the gates of the New\nJerusalem, though not expecting a miracle.\u201d\n\nThis lady, whom we find scrubbing a door, with her sleeves rolled up,\nwas the child of wealth and gentle blood. She had beauty, talents, and\nculture, and her life had been without a cloud, save those light ones\nthat only enhance the surrounding brightness. Yet she had turned away\nfrom the world, not in bitterness and disappointment, nor because it\nwas to her unbeautiful, but because its fragments of beauty served\nonly to remind her of the infinite loveliness. She had not Sister\nCecilia\u2019s enthusiasm; but her heart was a fountain for ever full of\nlove, and cheerfulness, and a gentle courage. She seemed to live in a\nsunny, spiritual calm above the storms of life.\n\nAfter a few graceful words, she took leave, promising to send Anita\nto them. Miss Ferrier wished Mr. Gerald to hear the girl play on the\npiano, and Miss Ferrier was a benefactor to their community, and,\ntherefore, a person to be obliged. Otherwise they might not have\nthought it profitable for the child to receive a morning-call from\nfashionable people who were neither related to nor intimate with her.\n\nAnita came in presently, as a moonbeam comes in when you lift the\ncurtain at night. Softly luminous and without sound, it is there. This\ngirl was rather small and dark-haired, and had a dazzling fairness of\ncomplexion to which her simple brown dress was in admirable contrast.\nHer eyes were blue and almost always downcast, as if she would wish\nto hide that full, unsteady radiance that shone out through them.\nNothing could have been more charming than her manner\u2014timid without\nawkwardness, and showing that innocent reserve of a child which springs\nneither from fear nor distrust. She met Miss Ferrier sweetly, but was\nnot the first to extend her hand; and Annette\u2019s kiss, to which she\nonly submitted, left a red spot on her cheek which lingered for some\ntime after. She was one of those sensitive flowers that shrink from\nthe lightest touch. No love was delicate enough for her except that\nineffable love of the \u201cSpouse of virgins.\u201d\n\nLawrence Gerald watched her with enchantment. The immense gravity and\nrespect of her salutation to him had made him smile. It was a new\nstudy for him. How sunburnt and hackneyed Annette seemed beside this\nfair little cloistered snowdrop! Poor Annette, with her grieved and\ndisappointed heart, which surely had not chosen the rough ways of the\nworld, and would gladly have been loved and shielded as this girl had\nbeen, received scant charity from the man whose sole hope she was. So\nare our misfortunes imputed to us as crimes!\n\nAnita played admirably on the piano, turning the music for herself.\nAfter her first gentle refusal of his help, Lawrence did not venture to\npress the matter, fearing to alarm her timidity; but he seated himself\nnear, and, affecting not to observe her, watched every movement.\n\nAfter the first piece, Miss Ferrier and Sister Cecilia, seated by\na distant window, began to talk in whispers about various business\naffairs; but as the gentleman by the piano was listening, and pushed\ntoward her a second sheet of music when she laid the first aside, the\nperformer did not rise.\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d Sister Cecilia was saying, her eyes fixed on a rough sofa the\nnuns had themselves stuffed cushions for, \u201cI think there is something\nup-stairs that will do to cover it. We have several large packages\nthat have not been opened. They were sent here the day after Mother\nChevreuse died, and we have had no heart to touch them since. There are\nsome shawls, and blankets, and quilts that Mrs. Macon gathered for us\nfrom any one who would give. I am sure we shall find something there\nthat will do very well.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd now sing for me,\u201d Lawrence said gently, as Anita ended her\nsecond piece. \u201cI am sure you sing. You....\u201d He checked himself there,\nnot daring to finish his speech. \u201cYou have the full throat of a\nsinging-bird,\u201d he was going to say.\n\nHe placed on the music-rack a simple little _Ave Maria_, and she sang\nit in a pure, flute-toned voice, and with a composed painstaking to do\nher best that provoked him. He leaned a little, only a little, nearer\nwhen she had ended, and sat with her eyes downcast, the lashes making a\nshadow on her smooth, colorless cheeks.\n\n\u201cIt is a sweet song,\u201d he said; \u201cbut you can sing what is far more\ndifficult and expressive. Sing once again, something stronger. Give me\na love-song.\u201d\n\nHe trembled at his own audacity, and his face reddened as he brought\nout the last words. Would she start up and rush out of the room? Would\nshe blush, or burst into tears? Nothing of the kind. She merely sat\nwith her eyes downcast, and her fingers resting lightly on the keys,\nand tried to recollect something.\n\nThen a little smile, faint from within, touched the corners of her\nmouth, her eyes were lifted fully and fixed on air, and she sang that\nhymn beloved by S. Francis Xaverius:\n\n  \u201cO Deus! ego amo te.\u201d\n\nIt was no longer the pale and timid novice. Fire shone from her\nuplifted eyes, a roseate color warmed her transparent face, and the\nsoul of a smile hovered about her lips. It was the bride singing to her\nBeloved.\n\nWhen she had finished the last words, the singer turned toward the\nwindow, as if looking to Sister Cecilia for sympathy, knowing well that\nonly with her could she find it, and perceived then that she was alone\nwith Lawrence Gerald.\n\nAnnette, half ashamed of herself for doing it, had kept her promise,\nand lured the sister out of the parlor on some pretext.\n\nAnita rose immediately, made the gentleman a slight obeisance, and\nglided from the room without uttering a word.\n\nWhen she had gone, he sat there confounded. \u201cShe a child!\u201d he muttered.\n\u201cShe is the most self-possessed and determined woman I ever met.\u201d\n\nThe love-song he had asked for addressed to God, and her abrupt\ndeparture, were to his mind proofs of the most mortifying rebuff he had\never received.\n\nBut he mistook, not knowing the difference between a child of earth\nand a child of heaven. That he could mean any other kind of love-song\nthan the one she had sung never entered Anita\u2019s mind. Love was to her\nan everyday word, oftener on her lips than any other. She spoke of love\nin the last waking moment at night and the first one in the morning.\nThere was no reason why she should fear the word. As to the rest, it\nwas nothing but obedience.\n\n\u201cWhy did you come out, my dear?\u201d asked Sister Cecilia, meeting her in\nthe entry.\n\n\u201cSister Bernadette told me never to remain alone with a gentleman,\u201d\nAnita replied simply.\n\nLawrence was just saying to himself that, after all, her fear of\nstaying with him was rather flattering, when she re-entered the room\nwith Annette and the sister, and came to the piano again. It was\nimpossible for vanity to blind him. He had not stirred the faintest\nripple on the surface of her heart. It was a salutary mortification.\n\nSister Cecilia carried in her hands a man\u2019s large gray shawl. Opening\nit out, she threw it over their improvised sofa, and tucked it in\naround the arms and the cushions. \u201cIt will do nicely,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd\nwe do not need it for a wrap or a spread.\u201d\n\nAnnette viewed it a little. \u201cSo it will,\u201d she acquiesced. \u201cA few large\npins will keep it in place. But here is a little tear in the corner.\nLet me turn it the other way. There! that does nicely, doesn\u2019t it,\nLawrence?\u201d\n\nShe turned in speaking to him, but he was not there. He had stepped out\ninto the porch, and was beckoning Jack to drive the carriage up inside\nthe grounds.\n\nThey took leave after a minute.\n\n\u201cBe sure you all pray for the success of our concert,\u201d was Annette\u2019s\nfarewell charge to the sister. \u201cWe are to have our last rehearsal\nto-night.\u201d\n\nShe glanced into her companion\u2019s face as they drove along, but\nrefrained from asking him any questions about his interview with Anita.\nHis expression did not indicate that he had derived much pleasure from\nit.\n\n TO BE CONTINUED.\n\n\n\n\nMUSIC.\n\n\n  WHEN the heart is overflowing,\n    Now with sorrow, now with joy,\n  And its fulness mocks our showing,\n    Like a spell that words destroy:\n\n  When the soul is all devotion,\n    Till its rapture grows a pain\n  And to free the pent emotion\n    Even prayer\u2019s wings spread in vain:\n\n  Then but one relief is given:\n    Not a voice of mortal birth,\n  But a language born in heaven,\n    And in mercy lent to earth:\n\n  Lent to consecrate our sighing,\n    Shed a glory on our tears,\n  And uplift us without dying\n    To the Vision-circled spheres.\n\n\n\n\nAN ART PILGRIMAGE THROUGH ROME.\n\nROME as we saw it in 1863 was already so far modernized as to possess\ntwo railway lines, one on the Neapolitan and one on the Civita Vecchia\nside. The old and more romantic entrance was by the Porta del Popolo,\nwhich was reached by crossing the Ponte Molle. Two traditions help to\ninvest this plain, strong bridge with peculiar interest. It was within\nsight of it that the great battle was fought which decided the triumph\nof Constantine and Christianity in the already tottering Roman Empire.\nHere the miraculous cross appeared to the great leader the night before\nthe battle, lighting up the horizon with its mystic radiance, and\nblazoning forth those prophetic words: _In hoc signo vinces_\u2014\u201cIn this\nsign shalt thou conquer\u201d\u2014which were afterwards graven as the motto of\nthe emperor on his new standard, or _labarum_. Near the Ponte Molle,\ntoo, then called Pons Milviensis, were the spoils of the temple, and\nnotably the seven-branched candlestick, thrown into the Tiber to save\nthem from the hands of the invading Huns; and it is seriously believed\nthat, were the river to be drained and carefully dredged in that spot,\nmany rare and valuable historical relics would be found. It is supposed\nthat, the flow of the water being very sluggish, and the mud, with\nits tawny color, oozy and detaining, these treasures may easily have\nremained embedded in their unsavory hiding-place.\n\nThe modern entrance from the Civita Vecchia side is unattractive in\nthe extreme, but the new depot at the Piazza de\u2019 Termini affords a\nvery fair first view of Rome. Before reaching the city, a beautiful\nspectacle is presented by the long rows of aqueducts standing sharply\ndefined out of the low, olive-spotted plain, and by the massive tomb\nof Cecilia Metella, rising in towering prominence among the lesser\nmonuments of the Appian Way. Beautiful at all times, this scene of\nlovely and suggestive grandeur is still more beautiful by moonlight;\nand, if one could forget the unfortunate details of that most prosaic\nof modern buildings, a railway-station, the Piazza de\u2019 Termini would\nhardly break the spell. On one side are the ruins of the baths of\nDiocletian, their brick walls covered with golden wall-flowers, and\njust beyond them the cloister and church of Santa Maria degli Angeli.\nThe interior of this church is supported by huge monolith columns\nof granite, still bearing the marks of the fire which destroyed the\nbaths, from whose adjoining halls they were taken. On the opposite\nside are the prisons for women\u2014a far happier and more peaceful abode\nthan most places of the sort, the _jailers_ being cloistered sisters\nspecially vowed to this heroic work of self-devotion. A little further\non is the great fountain, divided into three compartments, each backed\nby a _basso-rilievo_ of great merit, the centre one representing in\ngigantic proportions Moses striking the rock. The small domed church\nof the Vittoria, which faces the fountain, is the national _ex-voto_\ncommemorating the battle of Lepanto, and boasts a masterpiece of one of\nthe sculptors of the Renaissance\u2014a term too often convertible with\nartistic decadence. This is a languishing and affected but marvellously\ncorrect statue of S. Teresa on her death-bed; and the church is served\nby barefooted Carmelite friars. The streets branching from the Piazza,\nthough not so narrow, are to the full as crooked as those in the lower\nportion of the city; but, to the practised Italian traveller, they will\nappear almost wide. Those of Genoa and Venice are veritable lanes,\nthrough which two wheelbarrows could not pass each other, and across\nwhich you could literally shake hands out of the windows of each floor;\nso that the Roman streets do not strike you as uncommonly narrow,\nunless you are fresh from Paris or Munich.\n\nHere are the same peculiarities as in most other Italian towns, but\nfraught with a deeper meaning, since we are at the headquarters of\nthe religion which gives them birth: the frequent shrines at the\nstreet-corners, chiefly of the Blessed Virgin and the divine Infant,\nrudely enough represented, but denoting the steadfast faith of the\npeople, and kept perpetually adorned by a lighted oil-lamp in a blue\nor red glass; the stalls in the markets, which, by the way, stand only\nin the dingier thoroughfares round the Pantheon and S. Eustachio;\nthe strange medley of meat, vegetables, flowers, antiquities; in\nsummer, the mounds of cut water-melons (the Roman\u2019s favorite fruit),\nand the ricketty stands piled with figs in all the confused shades\nof purple, black, green, and white; in winter, the _scaldini_, or\nlittle square boxes filled with charcoal, which the market-women carry\nabout everywhere\u2014to market, to church, and very often to bed; the\ncurious antique lamps of brass with two or three beaks, each bearing\na weak flame, and the whole thing a copy, line for line, of the old\nRoman lamps of two thousand years ago; on S. Joseph\u2019s day, the 19th\nof March, the stalls decorated with garlands of green, and heaped\nwith _fritellette_ (fried fish under various disguises); the peasant\nfuneral winding slowly through the crowd, with the corpse, that of a\nyoung girl, lying uncovered, but enwreathed in simple flowers, on an\nopen bier borne by the cowled members of a pious brotherhood specially\ndedicated to this work, and whose faces even are covered, leaving only\nthe eyes visible through two narrow slits; the droves of Campagna oxen,\ncream-colored, mild, Juno-eyed, and with thick, smooth, branching\nhorns; the flocks of Campagna buffaloes, shaggy and fierce, with eyes\nlike pigs, humps on their necks, and short, crooked horns\u2014a very\nfair impersonation of the evil one for an imaginary \u201ctemptation of S.\nAnthony\u201d; then, finally, at Christmas time, the _pifferari_, peasants\nof the Abruzzi, whose immemorial custom it is to come on an annual\nmusical pilgrimage to Rome, and play their mountain airs before every\nstreet-shrine in the city.\n\nThese latter are deserving of a more lengthened notice, and, indeed,\nno traveller can fail to be struck by the rugged picturesqueness of\ntheir appearance. Some one has not inappropriately called them the\n\u201csatyrs of the Campagna,\u201d though they belong rather to the mountain\nthan to the plain. Their dress is that which we are erroneously taught\nto connect with the traditional ideal of a brigand (an ideal, by the\nway, very unjustly supposed to be realized by the honest, industrious,\nand deluded peasants of whom New York has recently said such hard\nthings)\u2014a high, conical felt hat, with a frayed feather or red band\nand tassels; a red waistcoat; a coarse blue jacket and leggings,\nsometimes of the shaggy hair of white goats (hence the title satyr),\nsometimes of tanned skin bound round with cords that interlace as\nfar as the knee. The ample cloak common to all Roman and Neapolitan\npeasants completes the costume, and gives it a dignity which sits\nwell upon them. Their instruments are very primitive, and the tunes\nthey perform are among the oldest national airs of Italy, transmitted\nintact from father to son by purely oral teaching. They always go in\ncouples, and, while one plays the _zampogna_, or bagpipe, the other\naccompanies him on the _piffero_, or pastoral pipe\u2014a short, flute-like\ninstrument. These are the men who make the fortunes of many an artist,\nand who, as models, are transformed as often as Proteus or Jupiter of\nold. The broad flight of steps leading from the Piazza di Spagna to\nthe Pincian hill is their chief resort when off duty as _pifferari_,\nand on the lookout as models; and any guide could show you among them\nSignor So-and-So\u2019s \u201cMoses,\u201d or Madame Such-a-one\u2019s \u201cS. Joseph,\u201d besides\ninnumerable other characters, Biblical and classical, sustained by at\nmost only a dozen men of flesh and blood. A few women there are among\nthem, some in the characteristic but rare costume which is erroneously\nsupposed to be the only one worn in the neighborhood of Rome, namely,\nthe square fold of spotless linen on the head (a style almost Egyptian\nin its massiveness) and narrow skirt of darkest blue, with an apron of\ncarpet-like pattern and texture. A row of heavy coral beads encircles\ntheir throats, and the ample folds of their loose chemise of white\ncotton are confined by a blue bodice laced up the front. These figures\nsuggest themselves as splendid models for a set of Caryatides, but they\nare more usually painted as typical peasant women, and sometimes, when\nold, as S. Elizabeth, S. Anne, or the Sibyls.\n\nThe confusion of gaily-attired or dark-robed figures in the streets is\nat first bewildering to the stranger, especially on a festival day,\nwhen one would think that the middle ages had broken up through the\nthin crust of levelling modern decorum. Here are Capuchin friars, in\ntheir coarse brown tunics confined round the waist by a white knotted\ncord, hurrying with large baskets on their arms from house to house to\ncollect their meal of broken refuse; further on is a Papal zouave in\nhis uniform of gray and his white half-leggings\u2014a foreigner and very\nlikely a noble, fair, slight, and dignified, like Col. de Charrette,\nthe grandson of the great Vendean leader of 1793; here, again, comes an\n_abbate_, with his enormous black three-cornered hat and his long and\nample cloak or garment gathered in a line of full, close folds at his\nback, and sweeping thence around his person with all the picturesque\ndignity of a Roman toga; jostling against this dark figure is the\nlithe, cat-like French soldier, cheery and open-faced; beyond him\nhurry lackeys in rich but faded liveries that look as if they had been\nfashioned out of tapestry; peasants in every garb, some clustering\nround a _scrivano_, or public letter-writer, established in the open\nair at a rickety table, with a few sheets of dirty paper and a heap of\nlimp red wafers for his stock in trade; and others intent upon their\nbirthright, _i.e._ noisy and successful begging.\n\nPerhaps one of the most curious sights to a stranger is to be found\nin the back yards of houses inhabited by swarms of families who have\nbut one well among them from which to draw water. The well is in the\nmiddle of the courtyard, and from it to every window of the house (and\noften of several adjoining houses) runs a strong wire cord. On this\nis slung a bucket, which is let down or drawn up by a pulley easily\nmanaged from the window; and all day long this ingenious man\u0153uvre is\nconstantly repeated with sundry whirring noises quite novel to the\nnorthern ear. It would need volumes to give any idea of the mere outer\npicturesqueness of Roman scenes, much more of the varied beauties that\ndo not at once catch the eye. The Ghetto, or Jews\u2019 quarter, affords\none of the most peculiar street-sights. The streets here are narrower,\ndarker, filthier than elsewhere, the stalls are dingier, the poverty\nmore apparent. Rags everywhere and in every stage of dilapidation\u2014rags\nhung out over your head like banners; rags spread on the knees of the\nindustrious women, who with deft fingers are mending and darning them;\nrags laid in shelves and coffers; rags clothing the swarthy children\nthat tumble about the grimy door-steps\u2014a very nightmare of rags. And\namong them, exiles: gorgeous robes hidden away where you would least\nexpect them, rare laces of gossamer texture and historical interest,\nbrocades that once graced a coronation, and even gems that the Queen\nof Sheba might have envied. Mingled in race and broken in spirit\nas are these Jews, weak descendants of the stern old Bible heroes,\none touching evidence of their loyalty to their ancient traditions\nremains. We were told of it by Dr. O\u2014\u2014, of the Propaganda College,\nwho had many friends among the Hebrew Rabbis. The Arch of Titus in\nthe Forum, or what is now vulgarly called the Campo Vaccino (oxen\u2019s\nfield or market), is a magnificent trophy commemorating the last\nvictory of Rome over Jerusalem. Its _bassorilievi_, both exterior and\ninterior, represent the sacking of the Holy City and the despoiling\nof the temple. The carvings of the triumphal procession bearing aloft\nthe rifled treasures of the Holy of Holies, the great seven-branched\ncandlestick, the mystic table of the \u201cloaves of proposition,\u201d the\ngolden bowls and censers, naturally enough excite feelings of bitter\nregret in the breast of the exiled and wandering race. So it happens\nthat no good and true Jew passing through the Forum will ever follow\nthe road that leads under this beautiful sculptured monument of his\ncountry\u2019s fall, nor even let its shadow fall upon his head as he\npasses it by. This sign of faithful mourning certainly struck us as\nvery significant and poetical. There are two synagogues in the Ghetto,\nand it is curious to reflect that these Hebrew temples were tolerated\nwithin the walls of Rome by a government which proscribed Anglican\nchapels and relegated the worship of the English visitors beyond the\nPorta del Popolo. This restriction may have unheedingly been called\nintolerant; but let us stay for a moment to examine its reason.\nRome was a theocracy and swayed by directly opposite principles to\nany other existing state, and it could no more allow of promiscuous\nworship within its domain than of old the Hebrew high-priest could\nhave allowed the Moabitish altars to be erected at the doors of the\nArk of God. In speaking of the Rome of the popes, it is absolutely\nnecessary for a non-Catholic to set his mind to a different focus from\nthat which answers the ordinary purposes of travel and observation;\nit is necessary to do as Hawthorne says somewhere in his romance of\nthe _Marble Faun_\u2014that is, to look at the pictured window of a great\ncathedral _from the inside_, where the harmony of form, of color, and\nof distribution is plainly visible; not from the _outside_, where an\nunmeaning network of dark, irregular patches of glass vexes the eye of\nthe gazer.\n\nOne is apt at first to wander through these Roman streets in the\nindecision brought on by _l\u2019embarras des richesses_. Shall we seek the\nRome of religion, of history, or of art? Shall we make a tour of the\nchurches or the studios first? Or shall we go at once to the colossal\nruins, and bury ourselves in the annals of the old republic? All these\nregions have been thoroughly explored, and there are guides, both\nliving and dead, to lead one through the divers cities existing within\nthe bosom of the whilom mistress of the world. The streets themselves\nare a series of pictures, from the Via Condotti\u2014where the most\nfinished masterpieces of antique jewellery are successfully imitated,\nand where wealthy strangers crowd round the counters, eager to take\nhome keepsakes for less fortunate friends\u2014to the Piazza Montanara,\nwhere the handsome peasants from the country mingle with the stalwart\nFrasteverini, who boast of being lineal descendants of the ancient\nRomans. One thing which is very apt to strike any thoughtful observer\nupon a first saunter through Rome (we speak of 1863) is the sovereignty\nof religion in every department of life. Art is wholly moulded by it,\ndomestic life pervaded by it, municipal life simply founded on it.\nEvery monument of note is stamped with its impress, as the Pantheon;\nevery ruin is consecrated to its service, as the Coliseum. Every public\nbuilding bears on its walls the keys and tiara of the Papacy side by\nside with the \u201cS. P. Q. R.\u201d of the city arms (_Senatus Populusque\nRomanus_). Even the private galleries are under government protection,\nand not one of the pictures can be sold without the leave of the\nauthorities. The very collections of classic statuary are the work of\nsuccessive ecclesiastical rulers. Education is essentially religious\n(as it always is in any country whose ideal still remains civilized\nand does not approximate to that of the irresponsible denizen of the\nforests), and at the same time national, since every nation has here\nits own representative college. The arch\u00e6ological discoveries in the\ncatacombs and at the Dominican Convent of San Clemente open a new\nbranch of research peculiar to Rome, while modern art instinctively\nfollows in the same religious groove, and spends itself chiefly on the\nimitation of Christian mosaics, the manufacture of costly articles of\ndevotion, such as reliquaries, crucifixes, rosaries, and the rivalry of\nboth foreign and native artists to invent new \u00e6sthetical expositions\nof religious truth, new embodiments of religious symbols. From the\nstreet-shrines which we have passed to the studios of Christian artists\nand the examination of ancient Christian art there is, therefore, less\ndistance than one would think. The same idea has created them, and\nthe faith which keeps the lamp alight and inspires the _pifferaro\u2019s_\ntribute is the same that guides the chisel of the sculptor and the\nbrush of the painter. It is certainly a remarkable fact that in Rome\nthere is perhaps less landscape-painting than in many other schools and\ncentres of art, and that, too, in a country so picturesque, so full\nof that pathetic southern beauty of luminous atmosphere and intense\ncoloring. The human element, and, above all, the religious, seems, as\nby divine right, to blot out every other in this mystic capital, not\nof the world alone, but of the whole realm of intellect. Classicism\nitself, the child of the soil, seems an alien growth here, and one\nwanders through miles of antique statuary as one would through some\ngigantic collection of exotics in a northern clime, expecting every\nmoment to return to a different and more normal atmosphere. So it is\nnot to be wondered at, when exploring the field of modern art, that\nso many of those wild-looking Germans, with long, fair hair and bushy\nbeards, extravagance of costume, and universal abundance of the plaid\nshawl serving as an overcoat, should be engaged on S. Jeromes or S.\nCatherines rather than on Apollos or Minervas.\n\nThe Italians are best represented among the sculptors, and Tenerani,\nGiacometti, and Benzoni have made their religious statuary famous\nthrough the Christian world. Discarding the influence of the\nRenaissance, they have returned to the austere ideal so well understood\nby Canova and exemplified in his figures of Justice and Mercy on the\ntomb of Clement XIV. in S. Peter\u2019s\u2014the ideal which Michael Angelo\nforsook when he introduced \u201cmuscular Christianity\u201d into art. Tenerani\u2019s\n\u201cAngel of Judgment,\u201d intended for the tomb of a Prussian princess, is\na magnificent conception. Colossal in size, and divinely impassible\nin expression, this grand figure stands as if in the last dread pause\nbefore the call, holding uplifted in his mighty hand the trumpet\nthat is to awaken the dead. It is impossible to give an adequate\nimpression of this statue, so majestic and so simple, with its massive\ndrapery falling straight to the feet, not tortured with a thousand\nundignified wrappings, nor flying like a stiffly frozen scarf around\nthe bared limbs, as it does on the wretched angels whom Bernini has\nperched upon the bridge opposite the Mole of Adrian. The two lifelike\nstatues of Christ and his betrayer, Judas, which are placed at the\nfoot of the Scala Santa, one of the most venerated shrines of Rome,\nare also Tenerani\u2019s handiwork. Judas clutches a bag of money in his\nleft hand, which he tries to hide behind his back, while his bent body\nand the low animal cunning in his look betray the sordid eagerness\nthat prompts him. Opposite this statue is that of our Saviour, whose\nattitude, full of dignity and repose, is more that of a lenient judge\nthan of an entrapped victim. As far as marble can be god-like, this\nfigure borrows something of the lofty characteristics of its original;\nand it is to be noticed that sculpture can more easily than painting\nattain such quasi-perfection. We have all been repeatedly struck by the\neffeminacy of almost every representation of our Lord, but this danger\nis much diminished in marble, the material itself being more or less\nincapable of sensuous interpretation. This is very evident in entirely\nor partially undraped figures, which are redeemed from the alluring\nrepulsiveness of the same subjects on canvas by a certain firmness\nof outline and breadth of contour suggestive of strength rather than\ntenderness, dignity rather than charm.\n\nOne very beautiful group in marble was the \u201cTaking down from the\nCross,\u201d which in 1863 was still in the _atelier_ of a German sculptor,\nwhose name we have forgotten. The realistic details, such as the\nnails still embedded in the sacred hands of the Redeemer, the crown\nof thorns, the tears of the Magdalen who is embracing his feet,\nwere marvellously and yet not painfully correct, while the whole\nexpression of the artistically grouped figures was touchingly\nChristian. Benzoni\u2019s Eve was another well-known masterpiece, of which\nmany fac-similes by the sculptor himself were constantly sold to rich\nEnglish or Russian patrons; but its chief merit was the wonderful hair,\nupon which the \u201cmother of all the living\u201d half sits, and which is\nchiselled with minute accuracy. The statue might be that of a beautiful\nbather or a grandly moulded Venus, save for the symbolic serpent twined\naround the stump of the tree on which she leans.\n\nGibson, the English sculptor, was the apostle of the revived art of\ntinting statues. He contended that such was the custom of the ancients,\nand brought forward many proofs in favor of his assertion, notably a\nstatue of Augustus discovered at the baths of Livia during our stay in\nRome, and which bore marks of gilding and vermilion on the fringes of\nits drapery. Gibson\u2019s studio was a pagan temple, the representative of\nclassic naturalism, very beautiful, but equally soulless. His tinted\nVenus was the marvel of the London Exhibition of 1862, and now he\nwas at work giving the finishing touch to a very lovely tinted Hebe.\nThe flesh was skilfully tinged to a faint pink hue, so faint that it\nsuggested ivory with a glow upon it rather than actual flesh; and\nhere and there, for instance, round the short kirtle and on the band\naround the forehead, ran a pencil-line of gold in delicate tracery.\nThe artist, gray and withered, and pacing among his statues in a loose\nsort of _d\u00e9shabill\u00e9_, reminded one of the ancient Greek philosophers\ndiscoursing on their favorite theories. He was altogether a cultivated\nand charming pagan, and had conceptions of the Greek myths which\nwould have delighted Phidias. He explained his Bacchus to us most\nenthusiastically, dwelling on the mistake often made of delineating him\nas the bloated god of intemperance and coarse indulgence. \u201cI have made\nhim,\u201d he said, pointing to his statue, crowned with vine-leaves, \u201cnot\nless beautiful than Apollo; for he was the god of youth and pleasure,\nof dance and song, and not the type of brutal revelry some people would\nhave us believe. He left that to Silenus.\u201d This statue was not tinted.\nWhether the ancients did or did not as a rule use color as an adjunct\nof sculpture, or whether, if they did, it was only in the degenerate\nstage of art, we cannot pretend to say; but, to our mind, such a\npractice seriously detracts from the severe beauty of statuary. It\nseems a pandering to passion, a compromise to allure the imagination,\nand even a confession of weakness on the part of the artist.\n\nStory, the American sculptor, was and is by far the ablest\nrepresentative of secular art in Rome. His two magnificent statues of\nCleopatra and the Libyan Sibyl were the gems of the \u201cRoman Court\u201d in\nthe London Exhibition of 1862. The former (or a _replica_ of it) is\nin Mr. Johnston\u2019s gallery of modern pictures in New York. Story has\ngiven his heroine something of the Egyptian type, thereby forsaking\nthe arbitrary rule that decreed the Greek type only to be admissible\nin sculpture; and, if he has lost in mere physical beauty, he has\namply gained in power. In his Cleopatra, he has not given us the\nvoluptuous woman, but the captive queen, brooding over the fall of\nher sovereignty, looking into futurity with gloomy apprehension; for\nshe sees her empire enslaved, her nationality wiped out, her dynasty\nforgotten. We dare not pity her, for she is above such a tribute; we\ncannot despise her, for we feel that contempt would not reach her. She\nis here the tangible embodiment of a principle rather than the splendid\nsinner of flesh and blood; and involuntarily we admire and reverence\nher, and are silent before her imperial woe. The Libyan Sibyl is not\nunlike the Cleopatra in general effect, and bears the same stamp of\nloftiness of mind on the part of the artist.\n\nOf Hoffman, a very different sculptor, and the adopted son of Overbeck,\nwe remember but one work, as he died between our first and second\nvisits to Rome, and our recollection of him dates, therefore, from\na somewhat childish period. This work was the bust of a Madonna,\nin which seemed blended in some indescribable way the softness of\nthe painter\u2019s art and the firmness of the sculptor\u2019s. The head is\nslightly bent forward, and the eyes look modestly down. Over the back\nof the head falls a veil, and the brow is bound by a simple crown of\n_fleur-de-lis_. The expression is radiant yet grave, and the artist has\nventured to use the help of gilding to embellish the veil and circlet.\nBut how different the effect from that produced by Gibson\u2019s tinting!\nThe thread-like medi\u00e6val tracery that forms the half-inch border to the\nveil, and the line of gold that just defines the contour of the crown,\nhave not the least disturbing effect in the harmony of the whole pure\ncomposition. One would think that this was the head of the white-robed\nVirgin in Beato Angelico\u2019s fresco in the Convent of San Marco at\nFlorence, translated into marble.\n\nChristian art in the department of painting is chiefly represented\nby the new German school of Overbeck. The master himself, a worthy\nfollower of the religious painters of the XIVth and XVth centuries, was\nquite a study. His enthusiastic explanations of his cartoons of the\nSeven Sacraments, which were in his _atelier_ at the time we visited\nhim, were very impressive. His own appearance was singularly in harmony\nwith the tone of his works, and, by its dignified asceticism, could\nnot fail to remind one that to paint as he did is to pray. One of his\nmost beautiful productions is now at Munich\u2014a half-length Madonna\u2014in\nwhose draperies he has managed to combine the most richly varied tints,\nall subdued to that velvety depth and mellowness which is so peculiar\nto some of the old Pre-Raphaelite masters, and which always suggests\nto our mind the tints seen in medi\u00e6val stained glass. The Christian\nrevival linked with his name has spread far and wide, and all over\nEngland, Germany, and France are found memorials of its inspiration.\nThe nudities of the Renaissance, the anatomies of the school of Michael\nAngelo, and the handsome, robust materialities of even the later manner\nof Raphael were banished to the realm of secular art, and the revived\nideal of religious chivalry was no longer the muscular athlete, the\nhandsome peasant, or the graceful _odalisque_. Many disciples followed\nthe new artistic school, and one of these, Seitz, of whom we have had\npersonal knowledge, may well find a place here. Seitz had his studio\nnear the Piazza Barberini, and, when we went in a party to see him, he\nwas at work on a beautiful group of saints arrayed round the throne\nof the Virgin and Child. It was a thoroughly characteristic picture,\ndesigned according to the medi\u00e6val custom of representing the family\nof the owner by their respective patron saints. It was destined for a\nGothic chapel in England, and has since been transferred there, having\nbeen ordered by a connoisseur in religious art and ecclesiastical\narch\u00e6ology. The minuteness and accuracy of detail, such as are required\nby the costumes of S. Charles Borromeo (cardinal), of S. Francis of\nSales, (bishop), and S. Ida (a Benedictine nun), are perfect, yet\nwithout a trace of that pagan naturalism which, since the days of the\nMedici, has uncrowned every ideal, and lowered even historical dignity\nto the level of vulgar domesticity. The researches necessary to a\ncorrect representation of such royal garments as are distinctive of\nS. Constance, the daughter of the Emperor Constantine; S. Edith, the\nroyal Saxon abbess; S. Edward the Confessor, who holds in his hand a\nmodel of his foundation, Westminster Abbey; and of S. Elizabeth of\nHungary, the queenly almsgiver, whose loaves of bread were turned to\nwreaths of red roses as her husband was about to upbraid her for her\ntoo lavish generosity, are also shown, by the success of these figures,\nto have been deep and painstaking. S. Thomas of Canterbury, patron\nof the chapel for which the altar-piece was intended, is also very\nbeautifully represented, the pallium and crozier faithfully copied,\nwhile a knife, placed transversely in the interstices of the pastoral\nstaff, points out symbolically the manner of his heroic death. The\nmain figures, the Virgin and Child, are radiant with heavenly grace\nas well as dignity, the tints of the former\u2019s robe being exquisitely\ndelicate, almost transparent in their ethereal suggestiveness, while\nthe disposition of the folds is both grave and modest. The picture\nis on a gold ground, and divided into three panels by XIIth century\n_colonnettes_ of twisted gold, while the names of the saints are\ninscribed in Lombardic characters on the breadth of the frame. Before\nwe take our leave of modern art, of which, of course, we do not pretend\nto have given more than a very superficial summary, we must not forget\nthe restored mosaics in the Basilica of S. Paul. This is outside the\nwalls of Rome, and has been in continual process of rebuilding and\nembellishment for over forty years. The great fire of 1822, which\ndestroyed the old Basilica, and swept away the carved cedar roof which\nwas one of its chief glories, only spared the apse containing some\nvaluable mosaics of the Theodosian period\u2014an enthroned Christ, around\nwhich was an inscription recounting how the Empress Galla Placidia and\nPope Leo the Great had finished the decorations of the church, and\nseveral medallions purporting to represent the first twenty or thirty\npopes. Among the renovating tasks to be undertaken, that of continuing\nthe series of Papal mosaics became one of the foremost. Those pontiffs\nof whom some authentic likeness remained, whether in casts, busts,\nmedals, or on canvas, were represented according to these data; while,\nfor the earlier popes of whom no reliable memorial was left, tradition\nand symbolism were appealed to. The artists took great pains in\ncollecting and arranging their models, the ecclesiastical authorities\ngave them every help and encouragement in their power, and the result\nwas a series of new mosaic medallions running all round the nave above\nthe granite columns, hardly distinguishable from the IVth century work,\nand in every respect true to the almost forgotten traditions of this\nancient branch of art.\n\nAmong other praiseworthy restorations of antique industry is the\nestablishment of Signor Castellani, a true artist and enthusiast, who\nstands unrivalled in his application to the study of Etruscan and\nRoman jewellery. Here may be seen wonderful and exact reproductions\nof Roman _bull\u00e6_, or golden ornaments, hung round the necks of youths\nbefore they attained the age at which they assumed the _toga virilis_,\nindicative of manhood and citizenship; _figul\u00e6_, or brooches of gold,\nwrought with the heads of lions or leopards, or chased with vine-leaf\npatterns; plain, massive rings, armlets and golden waistbelts, delicate\ncrowns of golden myrtle leaves, hair-pins and ornaments (those with\nwhich Roman ladies are said to have often struck their female slaves in\ncapricious anger), and various nondescript jewellery. Engrafting upon\nthese ornaments such later conceits as were appropriate, Castellani\nproduced rings and brooches bearing the Greek word _\u0391\u03b5\u03b9_ (for ever)\nin plain Etruscan letters, or the reversible words, _Amor_, _Roma_,\netc. Perhaps the most perfect objects of art were the necklaces, with\ntheir little amphora-shaped pendants copied from those found in ancient\ntombs, and which are now so well known. The granulated gold-work\nused in many of the more solid pieces of jewellery is peculiar to\nCastellani\u2019s new antique style, and cost much time, research, and\npatience to bring to the old standard, of which the results were also\nfor a long time the only recipes.\n\nTo return to Christian art and its early origin, we cannot do better\nthan go straight to the catacombs. Apart from their historical\ninterest, they have the additional merit of being the birthplace\nof Christian symbolism. It should always be borne in mind that art\nis a means, not an end. If it aims only at mere physical beauty,\nit degrades itself to the level of a common trade. Its inspiration\nshould come from on high, and its object be to lift the soul from\nvulgar to sublime thoughts. Thus began the art of the catacombs. It\nwas eminently symbolical, like the language of Christ himself in the\nparables, and like the venerable traditions of the Old Testament.\nWe should detain our readers too long were we to propose anything\nlike an adequate examination of the various types found in the\ncatacombs. The good shepherd surrounded by his flock, symbolizing\nthe church; Moses striking the rock, symbolizing the grace of the\nsacraments, particularly baptism; and Jonas saved from the whale,\nand reposing under the miraculous gourd, typifying the resurrection\nand life everlasting, are some of the most oft-repeated subjects.\nThe multiplication of the loaves and fishes also constantly recurs,\nmeaning the eucharistic sacrifice and sacrament, the sacrifice of the\nMass, and the sacrament of the body of the Lord under the appearance\nof bread. The Deluge and Noe\u2019s ark are frequently depicted, for the\nsake of the symbol they contain\u2014that of the church alone saving the\nhuman race amid the general corruption of sin. The fish is a double\nsymbol, the five letters of the Greek word _\u0399\u03c7\u03b8\u03cd\u03c2_ being the initials\nof the following words: Jesus, Christ, Son (of) God, Saviour, which\nform a complete confession of faith; and the animal itself, capable\nof existing only in the water, typifying that by baptism alone does\nthe Christian soul live. Sometimes the fish is put for Christ himself;\nas in two very ancient catacomb frescos, where it is seen in the one\nswimming in the water, bearing a ship (the church) upon its back, and\nin the other bearing a basket of bread, the type of the Holy Eucharist.\nThis symbol of the fish was so universally accepted, and became so\nfixed in men\u2019s minds, that it originated the shape of the episcopal\nseal, which was and is still fashioned like a pointed oval or ogive.\nIn many frescos, a female figure is depicted with outstretched hands,\nsignifying, as some think, the church in prayer, or, as others say,\nthe Mother of God interceding for the church. Among the Christian\nhieroglyphics, palms and crowns were frequent; a dove often represented\nthe spirit at peace in Christ (this was frequently the only epitaph\non a Christian\u2019s tomb), and a peacock or a ph\u0153nix, immortality. Here\nthe recollections of paganism were suited to Christian doctrines,\nand, like the converted temples, did duty in the service of truth. A\ncurious instance of this is seen in the frequent recurrence of the\nmyth of Orpheus depicted in the frescos of the catacombs, the Greek\nshepherd with his lyre standing for Christ, who by the magic of his\ndoctrine and his grace tames the evil passions of man, as Orpheus tamed\nthe wild beasts of the forest. In the earlier frescos, we see traces\nof the pure Greek models of ancient painting; the graceful draperies,\nthe delicate borders remind us of Pompeian art, but there is nothing\nimmodest, and the figures themselves are already of a graver and nobler\ntype. In the later paintings, the beauty of detail and ornamentation\ngrows less, but the grand ideal is yet more prominent. There is a\ntransition in art, but the indelible stamp of Christianity is already\nimpressed on the struggling types of a more perfect future. It was\nfitting that Christianity should only use pagan civilization with\nall its products as a pedestal\u2014a noble basis, it is true, but still\nonly a pedestal\u2014and should rear above it a structure wholly her own.\nThus from her inspiration rose a new architecture purely Christian;\nnew arts, such as stained glass-making; in literature, new languages\ncapable of more spiritual expressions. It is interesting to find\nin Rome the tradition of Christian art so unbroken, and especially\nto be able to compare the earliest efforts at a reverent and lucid\nillustration of the truths of faith with the latest development of\nthe same sentiment in the new German pictures. From the catacombs and\nSan Clemente to the school of Overbeck the transition is natural, and\nwe find the same master-spirit guiding both pictorial expositions.\nThe seed that produced such painters as Gian Bellini, Fra Angelico,\nMasaccio, Orcagna, Giotto, and Perugino was destined indeed to be\ncrushed for full four centuries, but what a glorious harvest has the\nbruised grain yielded in this age! Of all the productions of the XIXth\ncentury, none to our mind ever deserved its reputation one-quarter so\nwell as the Christian and Gothic revival, which is leading the human\nmind back to the spirit of the early church.[204]\n\nWe do not speak of the much-frequented galleries of the Borghese,\nDoria, or Corsini palaces, because every visitor to Rome knows them\nas well as we do; nor of the Stanza of Raphael in the Vatican\u2014which\nwe studied perhaps less than we ought\u2014because we should probably\noffend many established predilections by so doing. The pictures most\noften under our eyes were those in the Sistine chapel and in S.\nPeter\u2019s, and of the former a most painful impression remains upon\nour mind. The Christian ideal of art is there utterly violated by\na painter who, as a man, was a most fervent and austere Christian.\nThe taint of the Renaissance was upon Michael Angelo when he gave\nus an athlete enthroned, in the place of Christ the Judge; and we\nare happy to reflect that his spiritual conception of divine majesty\nwas far different from his artistic conception. The _pictures_ in S.\nPeter\u2019s, except one, are all mosaics, and a most marvellous triumph\nof artistic illusion. Domenichino\u2019s Communion of S. Jerome especially\nis so accurately copied in this perplexing material that any one not\nforewarned will never dream that he is looking on anything but canvas.\nThe single exception is the picture opposite the Porta Santa Marta, and\nrepresents the judgment that befell Ananias and Sapphira.\n\nOf all monuments of early Christianity, whose interest is joined with\nthat of art, none stands more conspicuous than the church of San\nClemente, served by the Irish Dominicans, and under English protection.\nThe discovery of the subterranean church and frescos, dating from the\ndays of S. Clement, the _third_ successor of S. Peter, was an era in\nthe history of ecclesiastical arch\u00e6ology. Believed to have been the\nsite of S. Clement\u2019s own dwelling, and to have originated in an oratory\nestablished there by himself, the Basilica of S. Clement is of a high\nantiquity. There are proofs of its existence in 417, when Pope Zosimus\nchose it as the scene of his condemnation of the Pelagian heresy. To\nthis date or thereabouts may be referred a certain Byzantine Madonna\nin fresco; and the learned and enthusiastic F. Mullooly has built upon\nthis apparent coincidence a very beautiful and possibly correct theory.\n\u201cThe very difference,\u201d he says, \u201cbetween the heads of S. Catherine and\nS. Euphemia, with hair flowing down from their jewelled crowns\u2014_i.e._\nhuman nature decked with the jewels of virginity and martyrdom\u2014and\nthe countenance of Our Lady, enshrined in a mass of ornaments, without\na single lock appearing\u2014_i.e._ human nature totally transformed by\ngrace\u2014indicates the limner\u2019s scope.\u201d And again: \u201c_All_ the gifts of\ngrace are signified by the necklace, breastplate, and the immense\njewelled head-dress, with its triple crown, borne by Our Lady.\u201d We\nhear of S. Clement\u2019s Basilica again in 600, of its being restored in\n795, and, a century later (855), of its being in \u201cgood order.\u201d It is\nnot accurately known whether it was destroyed by the earthquake of 896\nor in the wars of Robert Guiscard and Pope Gregory VII. in 1084. At\nany rate, it disappears from history after this last convulsion, and\nnot until 1857 was its existence proved by F. Mullooly\u2019s successful\nexcavations. He has published a book upon the subject, conspicuous for\nenthusiasm and arch\u00e6ological accuracy. Many portions of the Basilica\nwere found in almost perfect preservation, the columns especially\nbeing of great beauty, variety, and costliness, both as to material\nand workmanship. But the frescos are the most important part of the\nsilent testimony to Christian truth borne by this unearthed antiquity\ndating almost from the apostolic age. One in particular we commend\nto the notice of such advanced Anglicans as proclaim the \u201cRoman\u201d\nchurch of to-day to be other than the apostolic church of the first\nfour centuries. It represents S. Clement celebrating Mass at a small,\nsquare altar. We quote F. Mullooly\u2019s literal description: \u201cThe central\ncompartment represents the interior of a church, from the arches of\nwhich are suspended _seven_ lamps, symbolizing the seven gifts of the\nHoly Ghost. That over the altar is circular in form,[205] much larger\nthan the other six, and contains _seven_ lights, probably typical of\nthe seven gifts of the same Holy Spirit. Anastasius the librarian, who\nlived in the IXth century, makes mention of this form of lamp, and\ncalls it a _pharum cum corona_\u2014a lighthouse with a crown\u2014a crown from\nits form, a lighthouse from the brilliancy of the light it emitted.\u201d\nHe also says that it was in common use in all the Christian churches.\nS. Clement, in his pontifical robes (_i.e._ a chasuble, an alb, etc.,\nand more particularly a _pallium_), is officiating at the altar, over\nwhich his name, _S. Clemens, Papa_\u2014Pope S. Clement\u2014is written in the\nform of a cross. He has the maniple between the thumb and forefinger\nof the left hand. The altar is covered with a plain white cloth, and\non it are the missal, the chalice, and paten. The missal is open, and\non one page of it are the words, _Dominus vobiscum_ (\u201cThe Lord be with\nyou\u201d), which the saint is pronouncing, his arms extended, as Catholic\npriests do even to this day when celebrating Mass. On the other page\nare the words, _Pax Domini sit semper vobiscum_ (\u201cThe peace of the\nLord be ever with you\u201d). These two phrases were introduced into the\nliturgy of the church by S. Clement himself, and are still retained.\nOn the right of the saint are his ministers\u2014namely, two bishops with\ncroziers in their left hands, a deacon, and a subdeacon. They all have\nthe circular tonsure (the distinguishing mark of the Latin rite),\nand the pope, in addition to the tonsure, has the nimbus, or glory,\nthe symbol of sanctity.[206] In the neighboring fresco of the life\nand death of S. Alexius, the Pope, S. Boniface, is depicted again in\nsimilar pontifical garments, and is attended by two cross-bearers.\nHere, too, are the hanging lamps, four in number; the clerics, to the\nnumber of twenty, all wear the circular tonsure, and the pope has on\nhis head a conical white mitre. It is noticeable in these early frescos\nthat the shape of the lamps, chalice, crosses, and the fashion of the\nvestments, chasuble, alb, altar-cloth, and mitre, are exactly such as\nare now reproduced in the English establishments of Hardman & Co., and\nthe Browns, of Manchester and Birmingham\u2014the style now called Gothic.\nF. Mullooly notices the lavishness of these mural decorations in these\nsignificant words: \u201cThey appear to have been part of a series painted\nabout the same time; and, when the colors were fresh, the Basilica\nmust have presented a brilliant appearance very different from that\nPuritanical baldness which some suppose, but very falsely, to have\nbeen the _undefiled condition_ of church walls in the _early ages_.\u201d\nA fuller investigation would reveal many interesting facts going far\nto prove, by human means alone, the identity of the church of Clement\nand that of Pius IX.; and, indeed, it is chiefly this that strikes all\ncandid English-speaking visitors to the subterranean church. In the\nlate Basilica built over the ruins of this early one are many objects\nof artistic interest, notably the chapel of S. Catherine of Alexandria,\nwith her life painted in a series of frescos on the walls, and the\ncurious marble enclosure, four feet in height, round the choir, with\nthe two _ambones_, or marble desks, for the reading of the Gospel and\nthe Epistle. These, together with the enclosure, which is raised a\nstep or two above the level of the nave, are beautifully sculptured;\nand already, in these unusual types of birds, beasts, and flowers, we\ntrace that departure from the tradition of the monotonous acanthus-leaf\nwhich was to blossom forth into such wonders at the Cathedrals of\nCologne, Chartres, York, and Burgos. The frescos in S. Catherine\u2019s\nchapel it would take too long to describe; a medallion head of the\nsaint is especially noticeable for its great purity of outline and\nexpression, and the heavenly suggestiveness which hallows and rarefies\nits human beauty. In a cursory sketch such as this, it is impossible\nto do justice to a subject so vast as Roman art, and we have therefore\nembodied in it but a few of our personal recollections. The deepest\nimpressions, however, can never be told in words. No one who has\nvisited Rome can ever succeed in fully expressing all his sentiments;\nthere are undefinable sensations that will assert themselves, though\nthe visitor should strive to the utmost to resist and stifle them;\nthere are vivid influences which are felt by the infidel, the Puritan,\nand the Catholic alike, though the first will not acknowledge them, and\nthe second has too much human respect to put them into tangible shape;\nstill, they exist none the less strongly and may bear fruit when least\nexpected.\n\nRome is too much of a landmark in the tale of any traveller\u2019s life to\nbe passed over in silence, and one might say of its charm and influence\nwhat Rousseau caused to be graven on the pedestal of a statue of Eros\nset up in his grounds near Geneva:\n\n  \u201cPassant, adore; voici ton ma\u00eetre;\n  Il l\u2019est, le fut, ou le doit \u00eatre.\u201d\n\n  (\u201cPassing, adore; behold thy master.\n  He is, he was, or he ought to be.\u201d)\n\n\n\n\nTO BE FORGIVEN.\n\n\n  I CALL thee \u201clove\u201d\u2014\u201cmy sweet, my dearest love,\u201d\n    Nor feel it bold, nor fear it a deceit:\n  Yet I forget not that, in realms above,\n    The thrones of Seraphs are beneath thy feet.\n\n  If Queen of angels thou, of hearts no less:\n    And so of mine\u2014a poet\u2019s, which must needs\n  Adore to all melodious excess\n    What cannot sate the rapture that it feeds.\n\n  And then thou art my Mother: God\u2019s, yet mine!\n    Of mothers, as of virgins, first and best;\n  And I as tenderly, intimately thine\n    As He, my Brother, carried at the breast.\n\n  My Mother! \u2018Tis enough. If mine the right\n    To call thee this, much more to muse and sigh\n  All other honeyed names. A slave, I _might_\u2014\n    A son, I _must_. And both of these am I.\n\n\n\n\nTRAVELLERS AND TRAVELLING.\n\nCONCLUDED.\n\n\nANOTHER shrine most welcome to all who have made a retreat in a\nhouse of the Jesuits is the grotto of Manresa. I went to Spain to\nvisit this holy spot. I was enchanted with the wondrous appearance\nof Montserrat, the most unique mountain, perhaps, on the globe. It\nlooks like some enormous temple or Valhalla built by the Scandinavians\nin honor of their gods. Picture to yourself a high table-land, and\nimagine this surmounted by the Giant\u2019s Causeway (wherewith doubtless\nyou are familiar from the geography plates), and this again crowned by\na multitude of icebergs or by colossal models of the Milan Cathedral,\nall forming a structure four thousand feet in height and some miles\nin extent, situated in a beautiful country of rounded hills\u2014the\nSwitzerland of Spain\u2014which make the great mountain more singular and\nimposing by the contrast. You may thus form an idea of Montserrat,\nwhich the pious Catalonians say was thus rent by the thunderbolts of\nGod at the Crucifixion. A famous shrine of the Blessed Virgin lies\nfar up the mount; thirteen hermitages formerly existed, but were\ndestroyed by the French revolutionists. To the shrine of Mary the\nconverted Knight of Loyola repaired for his general confession, and\nthen, retiring to an open cavern in the side of a rocky hill, and\nhaving the sublime mountain in view, he entered on the famous retreat\nwhich resulted in that great work, the _Spiritual Exercises_. It was\ndelightful to say Mass in that cavern, preserved in its original narrow\nnakedness, and the Mass served by a gentleman from New Granada, himself\na pilgrim to this holy place; to see the same shelf of rock on which\nwas written that celebrated book praised by so many popes, and which\nworked such wonders in the perfecting of soldiers in the spiritual\nwarfare. But the House of Retreat, which still stands on the roof of\nthat rocky cavern, was changed from its original purpose, and, having\nfor a while been used as a hospital, lies now, since the expulsion\nof the Jesuits, in empty desolation; its altar literally stripped,\nits chapel in ruins, its library scattered, its corridors open to the\nelements. Here, at the shrine to which all the novices of the order in\nthe noble church of Spain used to come on foot to refresh their spirit\nat the Mount of God, where Ignatius had received a message from on\nhigh, no one now remains but a lay brother in secular dress, who is\nallowed, by connivance of the police, to sweep the church and care for\nthe chapels. Two other churches of the society and their colleges have\nnow no trace of their possession; and of two hundred Jesuits who were\nformerly here, only three priests and two lay brethren are left, living\non alms, and residing in a more wretched lane than could be found in\nNew York.\n\nNo Jesuit, Dominican, Franciscan, or other religious, can to-day wear\nthe dress of his order. Their property was confiscated, their libraries\nbroken up; they are forbidden to live in community or receive novices,\nand no compensation is given them for the means of living whereof they\nwere deprived. Such is a picture of religious life in that once most\nnoble country, which controlled the empire of the world when she was\nmost devoted to the church. In conversing with a young ecclesiastic,\nwho guided me to the mean dwelling of the Jesuits, up three pairs\nof dark stairs, he said: \u201cEvery one notices the decay of faith and\nincreasing corruption of morals, and all acknowledge that the church\nmilitant is practically weak when deprived of the services of her\nreligious orders.\u201d I might relate visits to other places, and describe\nother peoples\u2014tell you of the Cathedral at Burgos, the bearishness of\nsome people I met, the politeness characteristic of others, the beauty\nof Switzerland, the fresh simplicity of the Tyrol, the peculiar charm\nof Venice, the prison of SS. Peter and Paul at Rome, the Propaganda\nCollege, and so on endlessly; but I have only desired to illustrate\na little the pleasure of travel, not to describe everything, which\nwere impossible. So great is the attraction of travelling that a whole\npeople, the gypsies, spend their lives in constant roaming over the\nworld; but their condition, like that of certain classes in civilized\ncommunities, shows abundantly that continual wandering is conducive to\nadvancement neither in morals, learning, nor real happiness.\n\nTravellers for health, business, or pleasure are not excluded from\nthe advantages sought by those who travel expressly in pursuit of\nknowledge. If one but keeps his head cool and his temper quiet, he\ncannot but pick up a great deal of useful information during his\nsojourn abroad. Indeed, so true is this that a trip abroad has always\nbeen considered the necessary finish to a young man\u2019s education; and I\nwould go so far as to say that no one can pretend to the appellative\nof educated, in its best sense, unless he has travelled, or at least\nmingled with the people and observed the institutions of other nations.\n\u201cThe proper study of mankind is man\u201d; and it is excellence in the\nknowledge of mankind, after the knowledge of God and of self, that\nconstitutes learning. It is not mathematics alone, nor yet languages,\nnor skill in trades nor navigation: it is to know our condition, and\ncapacity, and progress, and that of other countries; to know what in\nlaw and government is most conducive to the social happiness, not\nsimply the material advancement; to the eternal weal, not the temporal\naggrandizement only of our race.\n\nThe desire of increasing in knowledge, as well as the pleasure the sage\nfinds in the pursuit of wisdom, doubtless it was that sent our great\nSecretary, Seward, in his white old age, on a tour of the whole world.\nIt was this that made those collectors of learned lore, Anacharsis and\nHerodotus, leave their polished home-circles, and travel amongst other\npeoples. It is this that makes the heirs of princely houses set out on\nthe tour of Europe and America, and even Asia, on the completion of\ntheir college course, that they may understand their position amongst\nthe nations. It is this that brings the acute and ambitious Japanese\nacross the globe in search of what is desirable in our products; that\nthey may see the truth and value of institutions different from their\nown.\n\nIn order to attain the object of such a journey, we must observe\ncertain conditions. In the first place, we should, if possible, know\nsome of the languages of the countries through which we intend to pass,\nor at least some which will most likely be understood therein; such\nas, for instance, the French in Italy, Germany, etc., the Italian in\nSpain, Greece, and Egypt. We are otherwise necessitated to depend on\nthe mediation of a class often found faithless in its duty of exact\ninterpretation. The interpreter, or _cicerone_, is very likely to\ndigest the information he obtains or to qualify that which he imparts\naccording to the supposed capacity or prejudice of his employer; and,\nfor fear of offending one from whom he expects more money, he will\nsometimes tell an acceptable lie rather than an unwelcome truth. Most\nunlucky is he who is thus fed with the sweet poison of falsehood rather\nthan the wholesome plainness of truth. What can he gain by travel?\n\nAn Irish bishop, standing before the picture of the martyrdom of SS.\nProcessus and Martinianus in the Vatican, heard a young lady behind\nask her father what was the subject of the painting. \u201cThat\u2019s the\nInquisition, my dear; they are torturing people in the Inquisition.\u201d\nHe looked like a man who should know how to read, and the name of the\npicture was on the frame under it; but it is quite possible that his\ninformation came from a _cicerone_, as they have been known to give it\njust as false and malicious.\n\nIn the second place, the traveller must bear in mind that his own\nnation does not monopolize the goodness or common sense of the world,\nand that, however unintelligible or absurd the customs of other\ncountries may appear to him, the presumption is in their favor;\nhence, he must never ridicule anything, never judge rashly, but wait\ntill his ignorance is removed and his little experience enlarged to\nthe knowledge of many excellent things that he dreamt not of before,\nremembering that, while it is pardonable in children and peculiar to\nboors to laugh at a strange dress or a foreign custom, it is unworthy\nof an educated person. We should never be ashamed to learn, nor\ntherefore to ask questions. Benjamin Franklin (or Dr. Johnson) said it\nwas by this means he gained so much information. A doctor should be no\nmore ashamed to ask a farmer about potatoes than he to ask him about\npills. Every man should be supposed to know his own trade better than\nothers not of it. It is the folly of supposing themselves all-wise and\nothers know-nothings, that keeps many men bigoted and ignorant.\n\nFinally, a great secret for acquiring knowledge of strange peoples and\nunderstanding their ways is contained in that advice to \u201cput yourself\nin their place.\u201d We will find that, if we were in their place, we would\ndo just the same, or perhaps would not have done so well as we find\nthem doing, and it will prevent us forming very wrong impressions of\na government or a people. For instance, when travelling in France,\nwe were subjected to some inconvenience by the police regulations,\nand were tempted to think these French a narrow-minded, suspicious,\ntimid people, until some one reminded the rest of the surveillance our\ngovernment had felt itself constrained to exercise on the line of the\nPotomac, the suspension of the Habeas Corpus, and the imprisonment of\neditors under our own flag; and we were persuaded that France was also\nexcusable, filled as she was with the adherents of three contending\npolitical parties, and her territory in part occupied by a conqueror.\nWhen we notice something apparently inconvenient, we must wait and see\nwhat is the corresponding advantage. Thus, one may dislike the brick\nand marble floors of Italy. Let him wait till summer, and he will like\nthem; or let him reflect on the immunity from conflagrations which is\ndue to them, and then say if the adoption of this flooring instead of\nwood is not a cheap price to pay for safety. \u201cDuring a residence of\nthirty-five years in Florence, I know not a single house to have been\nburnt.\u201d This is what Hiram Powers, the sculptor, testifies. In like\nmanner, Dickens was not very much taken with the narrow streets and\npeculiar build of Genoa the Superb, yet he adds: \u201cI little thought that\nin one year I would love the very stones of the streets of Genoa.\u201d When\nhe reached Switzerland on his return home, he was no doubt pleased with\nthe neatness of the people, etc.; but still ... \u201cthe beautiful Italian\nmanners, the sweet language, the quick recognition of a pleasant look\nor cheerful word, the captivating expression of a desire to oblige in\neverything, are left behind the Alps. Remembering them, I sighed for\nthe dirt again, the brick floors, bare walls, unplastered ceilings, and\nbroken windows.\u201d\n\nOne of the great advantages we Americans, just as others, gain\nby travelling is improvement in self-knowledge, which is the\nfoundation-stone of wisdom\u2014beginning to look at ourselves as it were\nfrom a distance, and to see ourselves as we are seen by others. It is\nthe great profit of this that made the poet exclaim:\n\n  \u201cOh! wad some power the giftie gie us\n    To see oursels as ithers see us!\n  It wad frae mony a blunder free us,\n    And foolish notion.\u201d\n\nWhen we compare the institutions of foreign lands and their results\nwith our own, we learn a juster appreciation of each, and to remedy\nthe defects of our own, if need be. On the one hand, the nothingness\nof the individual in many parts of Continental Europe, and the\n\u201ceverythingness\u201d of the state, is very intolerable. The way, too,\nthe police stare at every one in France, as if you had a suspicious\nlook, while the people side with the officer, not apparently from love\nof the law, but out of fear, just as all the school-boys quake when\none is subjected to the pedagogue\u2019s scrutiny. I was in France during\nNapoleon\u2019s despotism, and now under the republic, and it seemed to me\nthat to the people it was all one; they fear whoever is in power. On\nlanding at Calais, our names were peremptorily demanded, as if the\nnation feared the entrance of some certain individuals who were only\nknown to it by name. I guess such persons would hardly give their names\nin such a case. In Ireland, so little respect is had for the people\nthat they are not trusted with arms; but, to keep a gun, one must\nhave a written license from the agents of the inexorable government.\nThen, in most of those countries, the huge barracks of the standing\narmies, swallowing up hundreds of thousands of strong, healthy youth,\nand corrupting the morals of the district wherein they are stationed,\nseemed to insult the people, and to say: \u201cIf you don\u2019t be quiet, we\u2019ll\ncut you to pieces.\u201d And then again their officers strut along in\nidleness, or kill time by balls, parties, and cricket-playing, while\nthe masses are sweating to support them, or dying in the poor-houses,\nworn out in the struggle for existence. Of course, there is some\npalliation for this. The governments of Europe are afraid of each\nother, and many of them are afraid of their people, too. God grant that\nwe may never fear a foreign foe, or, what is worse, have a government\nor laws which the people do not love! But if it is insulting to our\nmanhood to be forbidden to keep arms, it is certainly wrong for us to\nallow every ruffian to have his loaded revolver always in his pocket.\nIt is worse to have a statute forbidding the carriage of concealed\nweapons, and not to enforce it.\n\nFrom the exactness wherewith the public honor is guarded and the\ncriminal laws administered in England\u2014one of those circumstances which\nmake her paper pass as gold in any part of the world\u2014we may learn\nto correct some of our insane, suicidal looseness in these respects\nat home, which is destroying all security for life and property, and\nmaking us a by-word among the nations. When we see the learning,\nmaturity, and integrity required for the judgeship in other lands,\nwe begin to see how wrong it is to render competition for this high\nstation subject to the bribery of low politicians, whereby, as we all\nknow, men who should be punished as criminals are sometimes found\nseated on the bench. O my friends! if you but knew what ridicule and\ncontempt for democratic institutions some of these things cause in\nEurope! It is for this that many excellent persons look with horror on\ntheir approach, and cannot appreciate their worth or beauty when they\nbehold these, howsoever accidental, results of their working. Often had\nwe to try and correct unfavorable impressions arising from the fact of\nknown swindlers being allowed to flourish amongst us, and to ruin our\npublic credit by their gambling speculations or bribery; and when one\nof them is, out of private and lawless revenge, murdered by another,\nhow uncertain it is whether the criminal shall be hanged or restored\nto society! When they see how we assemble to hear lectures from women\ndivorced from their husbands, and shamelessly living with a paramour,\nwhile professing Christian ministers bless such a union, associated\nthough it be with adultery and murder, is it a wonder that Europeans\nshould not increase in their respect for democracy? But the American\nabroad rouses from the lethargy which the commonness of these things\nthrows over him at home; and to see the disorder as others see it is\nthe first step toward reform. God grant it come not too late!\n\nUntil one goes abroad, he is apt to imagine that no country enjoys\nas much liberty in any sense as our own, and that, how objectionable\nsoever some of our practices may appear, still the corresponding\nones in Europe must be intolerably more so. How surprised we are,\nfor instance, when, having encountered the gentlemanly custom-house\nregulations of England, France, and other nations, the politeness of\nwhose officers is often greater than you often meet with here even\nin persons who expect to gain by your visit, we return home, and are\nconfronted with the hostile demonstrations of our New York institution!\nAt Liverpool, the officer approaches, and, with a single glance at\nyour appearance, frequently puts the chalk cross on your baggage; or\ngently asks if you have anything dutiable, and takes your word for an\nanswer; or, at most, slightly examines your baggage, and almost begs\npardon for the trouble he is giving. In France likewise, only that you\nare asked to open your valise, \u201cif you please,\u201d and thanked afterwards.\nHow different in our supposed free atmosphere! Every traveller, citizen\nor alien, is obliged to sign a statement, liable to be confirmed with\nan oath, to the effect that he carries nothing dutiable, not even a\npresent for his wife or sister; and then his baggage is examined as if\nhe had made no declaration at all. If the examination is to follow,\nthe oath is unnecessary and therefore sinful. If the oath is accepted\nas true testimony, is it not insulting to examine, as if it were not\nbelieved, or as if the government wished to detect people in perjury.\nI read the experience of a priest in a Holland custom-house, where the\nofficer insultingly took a crucifix\u2014an image of the crucified Son of\nGod!\u2014out of the valise, and, holding it on high, asked him what it\nwas! In Alexandria of Egypt, they examined his person, pocket, and\nsounded his stomach, so that he cried out: \u201cWhat! Is it contraband to\nhave a stomach? Is there any particular size fixed for it? Are there\nany duties to be paid on it?\u201d At least there was no tampering with an\noath in these cases. Such excesses are blamable anywhere, but they are\nintolerable in a republic.\n\nAnother contrast unfavorable to us is the independence of the\ntraveller, at least in this regard: in Continental Europe, no man has\nto stand even in an omnibus; while here, not only in the street-cars,\nwhere it may be explained, but often on the cars of some of our\nprincipal railroads, you must stand in travelling. The lawful number\nof places is marked in Europe, and the people behave as if they were\nwhat we claim to be\u2014\u201cindividual sovereigns\u201d; if one man is without\na seat, the company must either find him one or put on an extra car.\nFar different from us, who seem to be the slaves of monopoly, or\n\u201cdead-heads\u201d under a compliment, so that we dare not open our mouths.\n\nWhen we see how the people of Europe enjoy life, and lengthen their\ndays, and increase their innocent pleasures by moderation in seeking\nafter wealth, by observing occasional holidays, by popular amusements,\nfoot and boatracing, coursing, holding cricket-matches open to the\npublic (free of charge, just as the rest of the sports in Great\nBritain), we begin to feel how absurd it is for us to be burning out\nour brains at forty years of age, to break down our bodies by excessive\nlabor, heaping up riches which we thus inhibit ourselves from enjoying,\nto rush through our work as if we were laying up capital for a thousand\nyears, instead of for ten, twenty, or thirty. By experience of all\nthese things we find that we have much to learn and to improve; and\nwhile, on the one hand, we feel our own advantages, we are convinced,\non the other, that it was a very silly saying, that of the schoolboy:\n\u201cThat no one should stay in Europe now, since it is so easy to come to\nAmerica.\u201d\n\nThe non-Catholic is disabused of his prejudices by going abroad and\nfinding Catholic institutions so different from what he had been led\nby his training to expect; and their journey to Rome in particular\nused formerly to lead many an educated person to the truth. An English\nlady of high rank and great repute in her day said to Cardinal\nPacca, the celebrated minister of Pius VII., \u201cThere is one thing in\nyour system which I cannot possibly get over, it is so cruel and\nshocking.\u201d \u201cWhat is it that so excites your ladyship\u2019s indignation?\u201d\n\u201cYour Inquisition. I have been told all kinds of terrible things\nabout it\u2014its punishments, its tortures, and, in fact, all kinds of\nabominations.\u201d The cardinal endeavored to remove from the lady\u2019s mind\nthe absurd notions which fiction and calumny had associated with the\nvery harmless institution of modern times; but his success was not\naltogether complete. \u201cWell,\u201d said he, \u201cwould your ladyship wish to see\nthe head of this dreaded tribunal?\u201d \u201cAbove all things; and I should be\nmost grateful to you for affording me the opportunity.\u201d \u201cThen you had\nbetter come here on such an evening (which he named), and you shall see\nthis tremendous personage, and you can then judge of the institution\nfrom its chief.\u201d The lady was true to her appointment, all anxiety for\nher promised interview with the grand inquisitor. The cardinal, who was\nalone at the time of her arrival, received his visitor with his usual\ncourtly manner, and engaged her in conversation on the various matters\nof the day. The lady soon became _distrait_, and at length said: \u201cYour\neminence will pardon me, but you led me to expect that you were to\ngratify a woman\u2019s curiosity.\u201d \u201cHow was that, my lady?\u201d \u201cWhy, don\u2019t you\nremember you assured me I was to see the Grand Inquisitor of the Holy\nOffice?\u201d \u201cCertainly, and you have seen him,\u201d the cardinal said, in the\nquietest possible manner. \u201cSeen him!\u201d exclaimed the lady, looking round\nthe apartment. \u201cI see no one but yourself, cardinal.\u201d \u201cQuite true, my\nchild; I did promise you that you should meet the head of the tribunal\nof which you have been told such wonderful tales; and I have kept my\nword, for in me you behold your grand inquisitor! From what you know\nof him, you may judge of the institution.\u201d \u201cYou, cardinal\u2014you the\ninquisitor! Well, I am surprised!\u201d Her ladyship might have added: \u201cAnd\nconverted, too,\u201d which she was.\n\nThe Catholic is confirmed in his faith when he witnesses the piety\nof Ireland and Belgium; sees the wealth, position, and learning of\nthe children of the church in other nations. When he visits the\nchapter-house in the Abbey of Westminster, where, under the wings of\nthe church, the House of Commons long held its sessions, the testimony\nof its mute walls does more to convince him of the stand of the church\nin regard to free institutions than all that has been written on the\nsubject. When he beholds, in the famous College of the Propaganda,\nstudents of every color, tongue, and clime, united in prayer and study,\npreparing to preach the one same faith in every land, he realizes\nwhat he had always held by faith\u2014the Catholicity of the church\u2014and\nhe understands and feels what some one has expressed: \u201cElsewhere we\nbelieve, but in Rome we see.\u201d Even from the practice of heretics he\ntakes a lesson of attachment to his church; and when he sees how\nProtestants in Ireland, to avoid the contact with Catholics which they\nconsider dangerous to their belief, support schools of their own all\nthe while they are taxed for the national education, he feels still\nmore the wisdom of the Catholic prelates in condemning mixed education.\n\nThe public man of our country, the member of the legislature, the\npriest, finds much to learn in the customs which centuries have\nsanctioned; and thus the experience of each supplies the want of this\nimportant and all-testing article at home. He sees by the condition\nof Switzerland, Bavaria, the south and west of France, etc., that\npeople are just as prosperous, as happy and healthy, without the\nmachines and various inventions on which we are apt to pride ourselves;\nwhile his visit to English manufacturing towns will make him slow\nto place much trust in institutions which have generated so much\nmental weakness and bodily disease; have tended so much to destroy\nthe liberty and independence of the people by eliminating the private\ntradesman and creating vast tyrannous monopolies; and have, by their\nvery circumstances and discipline, occasioned such an increase of\nimmorality in populations heretofore uncorrupted. Having observed them\nin their homes, he understands better the circumstances and motives\nwhich influence men of different nationality and religion, and is\nenabled to form a more correct judgment of our adopted citizens, no\nmatter from what land. When he sees the misery of the Irish people\nat home\u2014a consequence of English misrule\u2014he can better understand\nwhy they take refuge in the delusive cup, deprived as they are by\ntheir poverty of the commonest conveniences and much more of the\npurer pleasures of life; nay, he is even astonished to find that,\nwith the unspeakable wretchedness of the people, they are so honest\nthat, in the maritime city of Cork, the doors are often scarce more\nthan latched; and so wanting in cool, calculating malice that, with\nall the strictness of the English, and with judges like Keogh, it is\nforty years since a man has been found guilty of wilful murder in that\nhandsome town. Even the agrarian outrages are mitigated to our view\nwhen we consider that they partake of the \u201cwild justice of revenge,\u201d\nand the political disturbances have their spring of action in one of\nthe noblest aspirations of the human soul. He is even disposed to\npity rather than condemn or despise the Irish when they here become\nthe tools of infamous politicians; reflecting how easily explained\nthis is in the case of country people, such as most of them are (not\none in five of whom ever voted before or entered a town except on a\nfair day), suddenly exalted to the comparative wealth of the American\nlaborer, to the lordly exercise of political rights, and exposed to\nthe new and captivating influences of a great capital. But when the\nAmerican traveller meets the city people of Ireland, and learns to\nrespect their justice, intelligence, and urbanity; when he sees what\na dutiful, sober, conscientious man the Irish peasant can be, as\nexemplified in the constabulary, of whom I always heard their priests\nand all travellers speak in the highest terms, he will look kindly on\nthe faults of the emigrant, in the sure expectation that, when his\nnovitiate is passed, he will stand in the first rank of the citizens of\nthe republic.\n\nIt will be a pleasure for me, and I trust may not be unacceptable to\nthe reader, if I digress slightly here as I touch on this subject of\nthe Irish people. Having Irish blood in my own veins, I naturally had a\ngreat sympathy with the country, especially after hearing the voice of\nCatholic Ireland crying in our American wilderness so eloquently, and\nwas delighted when, on the 21st of June, her shores rose from the sea\nin all the charm of sunlight, balmy and verdant freshness, like Venus\nfrom the deep. From four in the morning, we had that long-desired land\nin view, and all day long our eyes feasted on its charms, as we stopped\nto land passengers and buy fresh meat, entertained by the beautiful\nCove of Cork and the magic shores adjacent; and, when the full moon\nmirrored her beauty in the calm Atlantic, we enjoyed the spectacle at\nmidnight of departing light in the west and the first faint streaks of\nday in the east. It was such a day and such a night as one might well\ngo three thousand miles to enjoy. I do not wish to speak of the scenery\nof the country; that is well enough known. I only desire to testify to\nmy experience of the people.\n\nNearly six months we dwelt in the fair city of Cork, one of the most\nbeautifully situated I ever beheld and I never by any accident\nheard profane or obscene language in this town of ninety thousand\ninhabitants. Who could walk New York for a week, and relate such an\nexperience? I was edified by the venerable presence of the faith in\nthis people, as fresh and strong as ever to-day. You might compare\nit to a flourishing young oak that springs out from the body of an\nold, and furrowed, and blasted trunk, itself as beauteous as if it\ndid not come from such ancient roots, and were not vegetating with\nthe self-same inextinguished life of the patriarchal tree. How much\nto the honor of the nation that she has transmitted without a break\nthe consecration which the hands of Patrick, Malachy, and Laurence\nlaid upon her hierarchy, while neighboring people have been obliged\nto send abroad for pastoral unction! It is most edifying to see the\ncongregations at Mass, and to hear the loud murmur of faith and\nadoration at the elevation of the Host. It is beautiful to see them\nstop at the church to pay a visit of a minute as they pass on their\nway to work, or at least to take the holy water at the door. Drivers,\npolicemen, men cleaning the streets, all classes are seen to do this. I\nwas coming out of a church one day in winter, and found a child\u2019s maid\nwith a child in her arms, kneeling in the damp, wet porch, praying.\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you go inside? \u2018Tis quite wet here,\u201d I said. \u201cI was afraid\nthe child would make too much noise, sir!\u201d It was a week-day, and there\nwere only a few persons inside.\n\nThe good, simple, peaceable man of _The Imitation of Christ_ is found\nin Ireland. I met one of these\u2014a learned, pious, prudent priest, yet\nas simple in worldly ways as a child, and amusingly ignorant of our\nmodern progress, but courageous as a martyr when called on in court\nfor testimony involving his priestly character. I met another man, a\nlayman, a pure Celt, strong and vigorous, eighty years of age, simple\nin his diet and dress, speaking English poorly, but Irish fluently and\nwell; he walked at sixty years of age as many miles in three days;\nand when at last his son, a man of twenty-three, got tired, he took\nhim on his back, and kept on. Such a man might Abraham have been. No\nwonder his parish priest said to him before me: \u201cI\u2019m glad to see you,\nJames. I hope to see you often, and that you may live long to inspire\nand encourage me and our people by your example!\u201d His daughter died in\nLawrence, Mass., and thus the grandson wrote to the old man at home:\n\u201cMother asked for the holy water, and washed her face with it, and\nsprinkled us, blessing us. She then directed that her body should be\ncarried to the grave on the shoulders of her own flesh and blood, and\nasked us to turn her face to the east. We turned her, and we thought\nshe had gone asleep, but it was the long sleep of death!\u201d Such is\nIrish faith. These people are most edifyingly patient and cheerful in\nsickness and misery. They never complain, but always say, \u201c\u2018Tis the\nwill of God.\u201d In Waterford, one awful, snowy day, I was much struck by\nthis dialogue between two old persons: \u201cHow are you, Mary?\u201d \u201cOh! then,\npretty well, Denis, only I have the rheumatics.\u201d \u201cOh! then, \u2018tis God\u2019s\nwill; and you can\u2019t complain, as you\u2019re able to be about!\u201d My friends,\nif you had the wretched rags that she and he had on, and their probably\nempty stomachs, I think you would have been neither inclined to preach\nnor disposed to practise resignation. I never, by any accident, met\nany one so ill-clad here as I saw there. Even in the snow they had no\nshoes nor underclothing.\n\nIs it any wonder, then, that the great spirit of Montalembert was\ninflamed by visiting such a country? As Mrs. Oliphant says in her\n_Memoir_, \u201cHe had seen a worshipping nation, and his imagination had\nbeen inspired by the sight, and all his resolutions had burst into\nflower.\u201d\n\nAnother spectacle that entertained us here was that of an artless\nmaiden. Such a treat for an American! To see a girl of eighteen or\ntwenty years so modest and artless in her ways. There is a charm\nabout such an one; she seems God\u2019s fairest work, as an honest man is\nhis noblest. At the convent schools in Ireland one notices the same\ngentleness, which contrasts beautifully with what we have so much of at\nhome, and that feature of which Shakespeare says, speaking of Perdita:\n\n          \u201c... Her voice was ever soft,\n  Gentle, and low\u2014an excellent thing in woman.\u201d\n\nI heard an American express his notion of it characteristically by\nsaying: \u201cHow quick these girls would find a husband in America!\u201d An\nEnglish writer, speaking of a city which was remarkably Irish, though\nnot in Ireland, first indulges in some of his usual pokes and jokes\nabout its inhabitants, and then says: \u201cNowhere did I ever meet better\nbred ladies\u201d; and a lady well acquainted with the high society of one\nof our sister cities told me that the ladies in Ireland were far better\neducated. Indeed, the love of education is very great amongst the Irish\npeople.\n\nI never saw finer schools than those of the Christian Brothers in\nCork, and all supported by the voluntary contributions of the people,\nwithout a cent from the government, and in a very poor country.\nAlthough a poor Protestant is rare in Ireland, the statistics of the\nDublin census for 1872 show that the number of illiterates amongst the\nCatholics is smaller than amongst the adherents of any other religious\ndenomination. And still people will talk of the ignorant Irish, and\nthe opposition of the priests to education! The ignorance, whatever it\nis, of the Irish, like the rags that hang on their limbs, is a sad but\nglorious sign of their fidelity to God\u2019s truth! If they had wished to\nsell their heavenly treasure, they might have got the mess of pottage\ncalled godless education. All honor to them and to their priests for\nthe inestimable value they place on the deposit of faith handed down\nby saints and scholars! There is a good deal of carelessness and want\nof enterprise amongst the Irish people, no doubt; but as for the\nformer, as F. Burke says: \u201cGod help us! Much they\u2019ve left us to be\ncareless with.\u201d The less a man has, the more thriftless he is likely to\nbe. Having in this country a sure title to his own and a prospect of\nsuccess, I maintain that the Irishman will become as thrifty, without\nbeing niggardly, as any other citizen.\n\nTheir wit is proverbial, their good-nature under all circumstances most\nremarkable. In Kilkenny, one Sunday, I saw a party in miserable uniform\nmarching about playing rather unskilfully on a few musical instruments,\nand calling themselves a band. A crowd followed them through the wet,\nsnow-covered streets, and continually assailed the musicians and each\nother indifferently with snow-balls. A policeman standing on a corner\ngot one behind his ear, but, like most of the rest, laughed and made\nnothing of it. Imagine a New York M. P. under similar circumstances! On\none occasion, I watched a group of men bantering a rather old seaman\nwho complained of toothache; one suggested that he should take a sup\nof cold water, and sit on the fire until it boiled; another advised him\nto hang his night-cap on the bed-post, and, mixing a little whiskey and\nhot water, etc., should drink until he saw two night-caps; a third said\nthe best thing was to tie the tooth to a tree, and run away from it. He\nheard them all very good-humoredly, but simply remarked, as if it were\nnot worth while now at his time of life to learn cures: \u201cFaix, I can\u2019t\nhave many more o\u2019 them.\u201d\n\nA jolly, witty, careless bachelor lived on his own property in\nBlackpool. His houses were two; that which he occupied was open to the\nweather, and the adjoining one looked as if it had been burned. It was\na complete ruin. They were in such a state that some friend remarked\nthat they were likely to fall in and bury him. \u201cFaith,\u201d said the poor\nlonely bachelor, \u201c\u2018twould be the best thing that could happen me, if I\nwas prepared.\u201d We must repeat here the story of an Irish Protestant,\nwho went to church with his Catholic friend. His surprise at the\nstrange sights and sounds soon got the better of him, and he whispered:\n\u201cWhy, Pat, this beats the very ould divil.\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s the intention,\u201d\nsaid Pat, and kept on blessing himself all the same.\n\nAmericans, who are not taxed to support a foreign despotic master, who\nhave a sure and enduring title to their property, and who stand or fall\nby their own free, unimpeded efforts, sometimes wonder at the want of\nenterprise, neatness, and care of the Irish people. But a visit to the\ncountry and a look into its circumstances explain why this is the case.\nThe man who feels that his house may be taken from him to-morrow is\nnot likely to spend much on its decoration; the father who knows that\nhis children are destined to the lowest servitude is even tempted to\nbe careless about sending them to school, and no doubt reprehensible\nhabits which may take several generations to eradicate are naturally\nformed in such a condition of things. I have said enough, however, to\nshow\u2014and a visit to Ireland, combined with a knowledge of her people\nunder a free and favorable government, will convince us\u2014that these\nfaults of some of the Irish are their misfortune rather than their\nnatural character, and that, when they are free from the iron shackles\nof a barbarous conqueror, they will shine forth in all the virtues\nwhich adorn a great Catholic nation.\n\nAll the advantages undoubtedly derivable from going abroad are attended\nwith a danger which sometimes overtakes men of limited education\nand small mind, and which experience teaches we are all obliged to\nguard against. Contact with the institutions of most parts of Europe\nhas a tendency to undermine the simple, independent qualities of\nthe republican. The splendor of the throne, the tinsel of rank, the\nworship of mammon, family pride, etc., by which the sterling worth\nof the individual is overlooked and individual virtue is disregarded\nfor the glitter which often covers the rottenness and impurity of\ncaste\u2014all these appeal temptingly to the wealthy but otherwise\nundistinguished American. His daughters are sought in marriage by\nmembers of broken-down princely houses, because they have money; his\nsons are courted by noble gamblers, because they are rich; and I need\nnot tell why it is that principle in these cases is often sacrificed to\nthat base tendency of our fallen nature which makes us aspire to power,\nrank, and title, just as a little boy does to the possession of a whip,\na sash, and a cocked hat.\n\nI recall now the case of one of our American admirals, who, when\npatriotic New Hampshire objected to changing the Indian names of our\nmen-of-war to Saxon ones, defended his action by saying: \u201cHe did not\nsee why England should have all the fine names.\u201d The poor man was\nactually so infatuated by the style, pretension, and wealth of England\nthat he thought even the stale nomenclature of her vessels preferable\nto the fresh, historically endeared ones taken from our native land\u2014a\npiece of weakness and folly which drew out the merited protest of the\nGranite State, which had given some of those fine old Indian names\nto ships that under them gained glory in war, and won admiration and\nrespect when they visited the coasts of Europe. Imagine exchanging\nsuch names as Tuscarora, Niagara, Oneida, for such ones as Vixen,\nHornet, Viper, Spitfire, or even for Hector, Ajax, and Captain! It\nwere unjust, however, to the rude health of our republican atmosphere\nto suppose that weakness such as this can be called characteristic\nof those nurtured on our soil, and were conclusive against hope in\nthe perpetuity of our institutions. Such exceptional and deplorable\nexamples need not make us fear the consequences of travel to the\nmajority of travellers. The really educated, reflecting man knows the\nlessons of history too well to be deceived by the glitter of such\ninstitutions, which, like the _ignis fatuus_ itself, is a token of\nthe underlying rottenness. The religious man feels deeply that, while\nobedience to authority is essential to all government, still modesty\nand simplicity have given life and vigor, while pride and luxury have\nbeen the bane and caused the death of nations; and he knows that the\nconscientious, willing adhesion of the democrat to the laws he has had\nan influence in making is more trustworthy, as it is more noble, than\nthe abject, servile submission of the slave, disgusting to God, as well\nas dishonorable to his image. The priest cannot but feel deeply that\nthe only system and the only land which allows the church to stand or\nfall by her own strength and merits is America; and his consciousness\nof her increasing prosperity, in contrast to her maimed and bleeding\ncondition in other lands, must only attach him still more to his\ncountry and her institutions. And while he adverts, as I have done, to\nher faults, and wishes her to take pattern by the virtues and warning\nby the sins of other nations, it is because his heart as well as his\ninterest are bound up with her fate:\n\n  \u201c... Sail on, O ship of state!\n  Sail on, thou Union strong and great\n      .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .\n  Our hearts, our hopes, are all with thee,\n  Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears,\n  Our faith, triumphant o\u2019er our fears,\n  Are all with thee\u2014are all with thee.\u201d\n\nWe may theorize about patriotism by our firesides at home, but you\nfeel what it is when you are in a foreign land. The beating of your\nheart, the brilliancy of your glance, the warmth of your grasp,\nall without reflection and spontaneously occurring when you meet a\nfellow-countryman, while they afford a most pure and exquisite delight,\nprompt us, with the force of unerring instinct, to love our country.\n\nI remember, when out on the broad Atlantic, with the monotonous waste\nof waters in every direction, to have noticed something in the kiss\nof the sunbeams, in the familiar sweetness of the air, denoting the\nnearness of home by these embraces, so to speak, of our own clime.\nThe lifting up of the heart, the light gladness of the spirits that\nsucceeded, were not even due to the thought of home and friends The\nmagic influence of atmosphere alone had been enough to produce them.\nAnd is it not natural?\n\n  \u201cBreathes there a man with soul so dead,\n  Who never to himself hath said,\n  This is my own, my native land?\n  Whose heart hath ne\u2019er within him burned,\n  As home his footsteps he hath turned,\n  From wandering on a foreign strand?\u201d\n\nIf such an one there be, he is a rare and monstrous exception. The\nfeeling of common humanity is expressed with universal truth in the\nlines of sweet-singing Goldsmith in his classic poem, \u201cThe Traveller\u201d:\n\n  \u201cWhere\u2019er I roam, whatever realms to see,\n  My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee:\n  Still to _my country_ turns with ceaseless pain,\n  And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHARTRES.\n\n\nIT is the hour of pilgrimages. Probably never since the middle ages\nwere they so numerous, or, with regard to the public ones, so carefully\norganized as at the present time; whether to the favored localities to\nwhich in these latter days heavenly manifestations have been accorded,\nor to the ancient sanctuaries whose history is coeval with that of the\nwhole Christian era.\n\nAt this moment, when a vast concourse of pilgrims from various parts of\nFrance, and especially from its capital, are gone to pay their homage\nto our Lady of Chartres, and beg her intercession on behalf of their\ncountry, it may not be uninteresting to some among our readers if we\nendeavor briefly to trace the history of this celebrated shrine.\n\nOn entering the richly sculptured entrance\u2014too large to be called a\nporch, and too truly Gothic to be called a portico\u2014of the church of S.\nGermain l\u2019Auxerrois in Paris, the visitor is struck with the beauty of\nthe ancient frescos with which its interior is adorned; so effective in\ncomposition, so spiritual in expression, and in execution so delicate,\nsimple, and refined. In one of these, which fills the tympanum of a\nclosed arch forming part of the north side, is depicted the form of a\nvenerable, white-bearded sage, who might without difficulty serve to\nrepresent a Druid (though in all probability it is the prophet Isaias),\nkneeling, with an expression of wonder and joy on his aged countenance,\nwhile an angel, opening a window, shows him a distant vision of the\nVirgin Mother and her divine Son.\n\nThe connection between the subject of this fresco and that of the\npresent article will shortly be apparent. The ancient city, which was\nformerly the capital of the Carnutes, claims the honor of having been\nthe first in the world to consecrate a temple to the Blessed Virgin.\n\nChartres, before the Christian era dawned upon the earth, foresaw from\nthe midnight darkness the shining of the \u201cMorning Star\u201d which should\nprecede its rising, and by anticipation did homage to the Virgin who\nwas to bring forth\u2014_Virgini Paritur\u00e6_.\n\nIt was previous to the subjugation of the Gauls by the Roman arms\nthat this homage began. They were still a free, wild, and haughty\nrace; _Mala gens_, according to the _Commentaries_ of their conqueror;\nliving little in their towns, much in their pathless forests; they\nare, moreover, by the same author reported to be a religious people;\nthat is to say, submissive to their priests, from whom they had not\nonly their faith, but also their laws and government.\n\nThese priests were the Druids. If old Armorica was the cradle of their\nworship, it is no less true that it had at a very early period spread\nnot only into Britain, but also over the whole of Gaul, establishing at\nChartres the central point of its continental empire. There the solemn\nsacrifices were offered, and there were held the tribunals of justice;\n_in loco consecrato_,[207] which expression, by a slight variation,\nmight fittingly be rendered, _in luco consecrato_, considering the\nveneration in which woods and groves were held, and that it was in\nthese that the assemblies met.\n\nNot until after the Roman invasion was polytheism gradually and with\ndifficulty engrafted on the more primitive Druidic worship, which was\nevidently neither of Greek nor Latin origin, but rather the offspring\nof Egypt or Chaldea, with occasional indications of affinity with the\nbelief of the Hebrews. The Galli and Cymri had originally come from the\nEast, being alike descendants of Gomer, the son of Japhet.[208]\n\nAs some writers have imagined the Egyptian cross in the form of the\nGreek _\u03a4_, the _signum vit\u00e6 futur\u00e6_, to have proved the expectation\namong that nation of the coming of the Messias, so others have seen in\nthe venerated mistletoe attached to the oak an image of the Redeemer on\nthe cross, and in the offerings of bread and wine a foreshadowing of\nthe sacrament of the altar. In any case, these were but vague notions\nor veiled presentiments of truths of which Israel alone possessed the\ncertainty; yet some stray gleam from the light of Hebrew prophecy may\nhave shown to others than the chosen people a faint and distant vision\nof that great second Mother of the human race who should repair the\nills brought on it by the first.\n\nAccording to the oldest traditions, it was a hundred years before the\nbirth of our Saviour that this expectation manifested itself in a\npublic manner among the Druids of the Carnutes, by the consecration of\na grotto, for a long time previous famous among them, to the \u201cVirgin\nwho was to bring forth.\u201d\n\nNo written document of equal antiquity to this epoch exists in support\nof the tradition; nor would it be possible, from the fact that the\nDruids committed nothing to writing, but transmitted the doctrines of\ntheir religion and the facts of history solely by oral teaching.\n\nThe Cathedral of Chartres, however, from the time of its foundation\nby the Blessed Aventinus, who is said to have been the disciple of S.\nPeter, faithfully guarded the memory of an event which was its peculiar\nglory, by consigning the history thereof to its archives. These were\ncarefully consulted by the Abb\u00e9 S\u00e9bastien Rouillard, especially a very\nancient chronicle which was translated from Latin into French in 1262,\nduring the reign of S. Louis, and of which he gives the following\naccount, although, in rendering it into English, we lose the charm\nof the quaint original: \u201cWherefore the Druids having arrived at this\nlast centenary which immediately preceded the birth of Our Lord, ...\nthe said Druids being assembled together by the revolution of the\nnew year to perform their accustomed ceremonies for gathering in the\nmistletoe, which, coming from heaven and attaching itself to oaks and\ndivers other trees, was a figure of the Messias; at that time, in the\nassembly of the aforesaid Druids, all being vested in their mantles of\nwhite wool, after their custom, in the presence of Priscus, King of\nChartres, and of the princes, lords, and other estates of the province,\nthe Archdruid, having made the sacrifice of bread and wine according\nto custom, and praying the God of heaven that the sacrifice aforesaid\nmight be salutary to all the people of the Carnutes, declared that the\ndivine inbreathing (afflatus) with which he felt himself filled so\ngreatly overpowered him as well-nigh to take away the power of speech,\ncausing his heart to beat with vehement blows, and overwhelming it with\nextraordinary joy, seeing that he had to announce, by the revolution\nof the new century, the presage of her approach who should restore\nthe golden age, and bring forth Him for whom the nations waited.\u201d\n\u201cWherefore, O heaven! is thy tardy movement slower than the longing of\nmy desires?... If old age, which has brought my steps to the brink of\nthe grave, forbids me to behold with my own eyes that which I foresee,\nnevertheless I render thanks, O Deity Supreme, to thee, who hast\ninspired our sacred college with its expectation. In the midst of this\ngrotto, and hard by this well, shall be raised an altar and an image to\nthe Virgin who shall bring forth a Son. And do ye, princes and lords\nhere present, declare whether this thing is pleasing to you.\u201d Thus\nspoke the pontiff, while tears rolled down his long white beard. The\nwhole assembly, being seized with a spirit of joy and devotion, eagerly\ncorresponded with the desires of its high-priest. The altar was raised\nand the image dedicated\u2014_Virgini Paritur\u00e6_.\n\nThe place where this solemn assembly was held is none other than the\nhill whereon now stands the Cathedral of Chartres. At that period, a\nthick wood surrounded the grotto, which resembled the _Grottes des\nF\u00e9es_ still to be seen in many secluded country-places in France, and\nwhich were not unfrequently the abodes of Druidesses, the remembrance\nof whom is preserved under this popular appellation.\n\nWe have here, according to this tradition, the most ancient pilgrimage,\nwhich was Christian in spirit before being so in reality. The other\nDruidic virgins, venerated in various places, as at Nogent, Longpont,\nand Ch\u00e2lons-sur-Marne, were all later and in imitation of the Virgin of\nChartres.\n\nThe consecrated grotto in time became the crypt of the medi\u00e6val\ncathedral which now in all its majestic beauty rises above it. The\noriginal building, in consequence of various catastrophes, changed\nits form, and was more than once renewed before obtaining its present\nsplendor; but the Druidic image has invariably remained in the locality\nfirst assigned to it, whither all the centuries of Christian times have\nsuccessively sent multitudes of pilgrims to do homage to _Notre Dame\nde Soubs Terre_, and whither we must go to find the copy which has\nreplaced the ancient and venerable effigy, destroyed, not yet a century\nago, by sacrilegious hands, which, in the time of the great Revolution,\ntore it from its sanctuary and threw it into the flames. The present\nimage is a faithful reproduction of the Druidic one, of which a minute\ndescription is given in a chronological _History of Chartres_, written\nin the XVIth century. The Virgin Mother is enthroned, with her son upon\nher knees, whose right hand is raised in benediction, while in the left\nhe holds the globe of the world. Over the Virgin\u2019s robe is a mantle in\nform of a dalmatic; her head is covered with a veil, surmounted by a\ncrown, of which the ornaments somewhat resemble the leaves of the ash.\nHer countenance is extremely well formed, oval, dark, and shining, and\nthe whole figure has much resemblance to the ancient Byzantine type.\nWith regard to the supposed reasons for the color of the complexion, we\nwill quote the words of S\u00e9bastien Rouillard:\n\n\u201cLa dite image des Druides est de couleur mauresque, comme presque\ntoutes les aultres de l\u2019Eglise de Chartres. Ce que l\u2019on estime avoir\n\u00e9t\u00e9 fait par les Druides et aultres \u00e0 leur suitte, sur la pr\u00e9somptive\ncouleur du peuple oriental, expos\u00e9 plus que nous aux ardeurs du soleil,\ncause que l\u2019Espouse du Cantique des Cantiques dit que le soleil l\u2019a\nd\u00e9coulour\u00e9e, et que pour \u00eatre brune, elle ne laisse d\u2019\u00eatre belle.\nN\u00e9antmoins Nicephore qui avait vue plusieurs tableaux de cette Vierge\nfaicte par Saint Luc apr\u00e8s le naturel, dit que la couleur de son visage\nestoit _sitochro\u00eb_, ou de couleur de froument. Si ce n\u2019est qu\u2019on\nveuille dire que le froument estant meur tire sur le brun ou couleur de\nchastaigne.\u201d[209]\n\nThe remainder of the description is so charming that we cannot refrain\nfrom finishing the portrait:\n\n\u201cLa Vierge estoit de stature m\u00e9diocre.... Ses cheveux tiraient sur\nl\u2019or; ses yeux estoient acres et estincellans, aiant les prunelles\njaunastres et de couleur d\u2019olive, ses sourcils cambrez en forme\nd\u2019arcade, et d\u2019une couleur noire leur avenant fort bien. Son nez estoit\nlonguet, ses l\u00e8vres vives et flories, sa face non ronde ni aigu\u00eb, mais\nun peu longuette, les mains et les doigts pareillement longuets. Elle\nestoit en toutes choses honneste et grave, parlant peu \u00e0 peu et \u00e0\npropos; facile \u00e0 escouter toutes personnes, affable des plus et faisant\nhonneur \u00e0 chascun, selon sa qualit\u00e9. Elle usoit d\u2019une honneste libert\u00e9\nde parler, sans rire, sans se troubler, sans se mettre en chol\u00e8re.\nElle estoit exempte de tout fast, sans se d\u00e9guiser le maintien, sans\nuser de d\u00e9licatesse, et en toutes ses actions monstrant une grande\nhumilit\u00e9.\u201d[210]\n\nIn presence of the numerous and invariable testimonies of tradition,\nnot only the great antiquity, but also the Druidic origin of the\npilgrimage of Notre Dame de Chartres appear incontestable, and this\nbelief is further confirmed by many historical documents, such as,\nfor instance, the letters-patent which in the year 1432 were granted\nat Loches to the Chartrians by Charles VII., and which contain the\nfollowing declaration:\n\n\u201cL\u2019Eglise de Chartres est la plus ancienne de notre ro\u00efaume, fond\u00e9e\npar proph\u00e9tie en l\u2019honneur de la glorieuse Vierge-M\u00e8re, avant\nl\u2019incarnation de Notre Seigneur Jh\u00e9sus Christ et en laquelle icelle\nglorieuse Vierge fut ador\u00e9e en son vivant.\u201d[211]\n\nWithout allowing the same degree of credence to the miracles which,\naccording to the archives of this church, signalized the future power\nof Mary in times anterior to the Christian era, we will mention one\nonly of those among them which appear to be worthy of belief. This was\nrepresented in the rich medi\u00e6val glass of the \u201cWindow of Miracles,\u201d\ndestroyed at the Revolution, where also could be read the name of\nGeoffrey [Gaufridus].\n\nThis Geoffrey, in the time of the Druids, was King of Montlh\u00e9ry. There\nwere in those days kings in profusion, and this one was vassal to\nPriscus, King of Chartres. Geoffrey had an only son, his chief joy,\nwho accidentally fell into the deep well of the castle, and was taken\nout dead. The king was distracted with grief, but, having heard of\nsundry miracles which had been wrought by the Virgin of Chartres (to\nthe amazement of the Druids, who had known nothing of the kind in\ntheir false religion), he forthwith prayed to her with many tears,\nentreating that she would restore his son to life. Little by little\nthe youth began to breathe, and soon was completely recovered. The\nfather, full of gratitude, went with large offerings to the grotto to\nreturn thanks for the life of his son. Priscus showed himself no less\ndevout. He caused a statue to be made after the pattern of the one at\nChartres, and placed it at Longpont, where arose later a celebrated\nabbey, and whither pilgrimages have ever since continued to be made.\nHaving no child, he bequeathed all his rights and possessions to the\nVirgin of Chartres. Of these the Druids enjoyed the benefit, and the\nFrench chroniclers observe that the bishops who have succeeded them are\nthus, in fact, the temporal princes also of the city, and that the Holy\nVirgin is by legal right Lady of Chartres.\n\nIt is, however, on entirely different and sufficient grounds for\nbelief that the facts must be placed which relate to the arrival of\nthe illustrious saints, Savinian and Potentian, two of those heroic\nmissioners who were called _bishops of the nations_, whom Christian\nRome, more eager to make the conquest of the world than pagan Rome had\never been, sent to evangelize heathendom.\n\nWhen these first preachers of Christianity appeared among the\nCarnutes, they found them subjugated, indeed, by the Roman arms, but\nexceptionally rebellious against all endeavors that were used to induce\ntheir adoption of the Roman gods; still submissive to the Druids,\nwhom the conquerors persecuted as representing the party of national\nresistance.\n\nPotentian had associated with him in his labors two faithful disciples,\nS. Edoald and S. Altinus. Led by the Spirit of God, and knowing the\nreligious belief of the Druids, he repaired at once to the renowned\ngrotto, where he found them assembled, together with a numerous\nconcourse of people; and, adapting to the occasion the words of S.\nPaul at Athens, he said to them: \u201cThis Virgin whom you honor without\nknowing I am come to make known unto you\u201d; and soon the darkness\ngiving place to light in minds that were predisposed to receive it, a\nlarge number of those present begged forthwith for baptism. They were\nbaptized in the water of the well, the Druidic image received Christian\nbenediction, the altar was consecrated to Mary, and the whole sanctuary\ndedicated to the true God.\n\nMention is made of this ceremony in the breviary of Chartres, on the\n17th of October.\n\nThe new Christian community was not destined to enjoy long peace.\nQuirinus, the governor of the country under the Emperor Claudius, in\nobedience to an edict issued by the latter against the Christians,\nentered the grotto with a company of armed soldiers when the faithful\nwere there assembled, and, seizing S. Potentian, S. Edoald, and S.\nAltinus, reserved them for more prolonged sufferings, while he caused\nthe rest of the worshippers to be massacred on the spot. Among these\nwas found his own daughter, since honored in the church as S. Modesta.\nThe bodies of the martyrs were thrown into the well of the grotto,\nwhich from that time bore the name of _Le puits des Saints Forts_.\n\nThe governor, being struck with sudden death, was not permitted to\ncarry out his designs against S. Potentian and his companions, who,\nbeing set at liberty, proceeded to Sens to continue their labors,\nleaving S. Aventine at Chartres, of which city he was the first bishop.\n\nSetting aside the improbable legend which relates that the people of\nChartres, upon learning that the Blessed Virgin was still living, sent\nan embassy to Ephesus to convey to her their homage, and pray her to\nreceive the title of _Domina Carnoti_, which, according to Guillaume le\nBreton, she willingly accepted, we hope in a future article to give the\neventful history of the erection of the cathedral over the primitive\ngrotto, which in the XIth century grew into the present vast and\nmassive crypt, perhaps the finest in the world.\n\n\n\n\nEARLY MARRIAGE.\n\nWHEN Dr. Johnson advocated the early marriage of young men, he spoke\nthe morality of the Christian, the wisdom of the philosopher, and the\nknowledge of the man of the world. He knew from his own experience, and\nfrom the wild lives of the men with whom he associated during the first\nyears of his London life, that early marriage is the great safeguard\nof youth, the preserver of purity, and the sure promoter of domestic\nhappiness\u2014\u201cthe only bliss of paradise that has survived the fall.\u201d\n\nProfoundly convinced of this, we deliberately declare that early\nmarriages should be, as a general rule, recommended and promoted by\nthose who have influence or authority over young people. By early\nmarriage, we do not mean the marriage of boys and girls, but of men and\nwomen. Marriage is the only natural, proper, and safe state for the\nmajority of persons living in the world. If one-third of the angelic\nhost\u2014those bright and pure spirits fresh from the divine Hand\u2014fell\nat the very first temptation, how can man, prone as he is to sin, hope\nto escape? If the saints of old, who subjected their bodies to the\nspirit by penances so terrible as almost to realize Byron\u2019s remark \u201cof\nmeriting heaven by making earth a hell\u201d\u2014if these holy men found it so\ndifficult to resist the allurements of the flesh, how can the pampered\nand luxurious Christians of these days, living in an atmosphere\nof seduction, mingling in a gay and wicked world, and thrown in\nconstant contact with men who break all the Commandments with perfect\nindifference\u2014how can these Christians of the latter days hope to avoid\nthe dangers that surround them if they refuse to seek the safety that\nis presented to them in marriage, unless they make use of unusual means\nand preventives which few are willing to adopt.\n\nByron, who had tried all pleasures, and gratified all his passions unto\nsatiety, declared that the \u201cbest state for morals is marriage.\u201d This\nwas the mature and deliberate opinion of a man who had married most\nwretchedly.\n\nShakespeare says, \u201cA young man married is a man that\u2019s marr\u2019d.\u201d[212]\nBut married, as he was, at the early age of eighteen, to a woman\neight years his senior, he was a most glorious contradiction of his\nown assertion. So assured is his position as the monarch of the world\nof literature, that the most daring and ambitious spirits have never\npresumed to dispute his supremacy; much less has there ever been found\na man bold enough to play the part of the Lucifer of literature, and\nattempt to deprive Shakespeare of his \u201cpride of place.\u201d Surely, the\nfact of the poor Stratford boy filling the world with his name and fame\nafter marrying at eighteen, is an argument in favor of early marriage.\n\n\u201cA young man married is _not_ a man that\u2019s marr\u2019d.\u201d Had Byron married\nhis earliest and purest love, Mary Chaworth, both the poet and the\nworld would have been the gainers. We would then have had more poems\nlike the magnificent Fourth Canto of _Childe Harold_, and no poem like\nthe voluptuous _Don Juan_. Domestic happiness, instead of domestic\nmisery, would have been Byron\u2019s earthly blessing; for the pure\naffection of his noble though erring heart would have been concentrated\nupon one adored object. Moore\u2019s early marriage to his beautiful and\nbeloved Bessie did not \u201cmar\u201d his brilliant career either in literature\nor in society. Her love and sympathy cheered him in his young and\nstruggling days, when\u2014\n\n            \u201cAll feverish and glowing,\n  He rushed up the rugged way panting to fame.\u201d\n\nWhen success crowned his efforts, the praise and admiration of Bessie\nwere dearer to the young poet than all the flattery lavished upon him\nby the loveliest ladies of England; and, when misfortune came which\ndrove away his summer friends, she was ever by his side, brightening\nand encouraging the desponding poet.\n\nThe wife of Disraeli was Disraeli\u2019s best and truest friend. Her\ninfluence fired his latent ambition, and brought into active use his\nfinest talents. Sustained by her, Disraeli abandoned the idle and\naimless life of a London dandy, and became a statesman and the leader\nof statesmen, as Prime Minister of Great Britain. His domestic life\nwas most happy. From the triumph of the senate and the pageantry of\nthe court, he turned with unaffected delight to his home-life and\nhome-love. The sweetest associations of his life all clustered around\nthat home, where he always found the truest sympathy and love. Fully\nrealizing the blessing of married life, he has written: \u201cWhatever be\nthe lot of man, however inferior, however oppressed, if he only love\nand be loved, he must strike a balance in favor of existence; for love\ncan illumine the dark roof of poverty, and lighten the fetter of the\nslave.\u201d\n\nThese few examples, which may be multiplied indefinitely, are given to\nshow that, so far as fame is concerned, \u201ca young man married is _not_ a\nman that\u2019s marr\u2019d.\u201d\n\nNow, to another and more practical view of the matter. How many young\nmen give as a reason for not marrying that they can\u2019t afford it\u2014that\nmarriage is a luxury only for the rich? We know that the sordid forms\nof fashionable society have encircled this heavenly rose called love\nwith so many thorns that the opulent alone can gather it with safety.\nWe also know that, in the gay world, as Lady Modish observes in the\n_Careless Husband_, \u201csincerity in love is as much out of fashion as\nsweet snuff\u2014nobody takes it now.\u201d But what man of sense, what man who\nlongs for love and a home, would think of marrying a woman of fashion\nwhose mornings are passed in bed over a sensational novel, whose\nafternoons are spent on the street, and whose evenings are danced away\nin the ball-room?\n\nIt is a great and deplorable mistake to suppose that only the rich can\nafford to marry. Dining with Chief-Justice Chase in Washington, some\none mentioned that Mr.\u2014\u2014 had of late grown cynical and censorious,\nbecause he was engaged and could not afford to marry. Well do we\nremember the remark of the Chief-Justice, that \u201cany young man who can\nsupport himself can support a wife\u2014that is, if he is wise enough to\nselect the right sort of person.\u201d Mr. Chase spoke from his own personal\nexperience; for he had married when he was young, poor, and unknown,\nand his success began with his marriage. Take any young man of average\nintelligence and industry\u2014a lawyer, clerk, or journalist\u2014he makes\nenough to live comfortably and to save, but he is not willing to\nfollow Mr. Micawber\u2019s philosophy of happiness: \u201cIncome, \u00a3100 a year;\nexpenses, \u00a399 19_s._\u2014happiness. Income, \u00a3100 a year; expenses, \u00a3100\n1_s._\u2014misery.\u201d Which, in plain English, means\u2014make more than you\nspend, and you will be happy; spend more than you make, and you will be\nmiserable.\n\nOur young lawyer, clerk, or journalist is not satisfied to live\ncomfortably: he must live luxuriously. He must smoke the best cigars,\ndrink the choicest wines, wear the most fashionable clothes; he must\nbelong to a club, play billiards, go to the opera; he must drive\nto the park, when he can ride in the city cars; he must spend his\nsummer holiday at Saratoga or Long Branch\u2014in short, he must live as\nextravagantly as the idle sons of rich men with whom he associates. To\ndo this, he must necessarily live beyond his means.\n\nThese are the young men who say they _cannot afford to marry_. They\n_can_ afford to marry if they will give up expenses which are always\nuseless and often dangerous. Addison says with admirable truth: \u201cAll\nmen are not equally qualified for getting money, but it is in the power\nof every one alike to practise the virtue of thrift; and I believe\nthere are few persons who, if they please to reflect on their own past\nlives, will not find that, had they saved all those little sums which\nthey have spent unnecessarily, they might at present have been masters\nof a competent fortune.\u201d Certainly, if young men will practise the\nhabit of saving \u201cthose little sums\u201d which are so often \u201cunnecessarily\nspent,\u201d they will no longer have to complain that they cannot afford to\nmarry.\n\nThe laws of Sparta required a man to marry when he became of age; if he\ndid not, he was liable to prosecution. The salutary effect of this was\nseen in the superior morality of the Spartans over the other people of\nGreece. The morality of the people of Ireland is one of the brightest\ngems in the crown of the \u201cloved Island of Sorrow\u201d; the practice of\nearly marriage among the Irish contributes, in a great measure, to\nthis angelic virtue of chastity. The pernicious practice of marrying\nlate in life, which prevails generally among Frenchmen, is one of the\nchief causes of the licentiousness of that gay and gallant nation.\nUnfortunately, a tendency towards late marriage has been gradually\ngrowing among the American people, especially in our large cities. This\nis one of the most dangerous and disheartening signs of the times. It\narises from the love of luxury and display which has overspread the\nland and destroyed that republican simplicity of life and manners which\nwas once the glory and strength of this nation.\n\nFathers are unwilling that their daughters should marry young men who\nare not rich, forgetting that they themselves were poor when they\nmarried, and that their wealth has been amassed by long years of\nconstant toil. Such fathers should remember the answer of Themistocles,\nwhen asked whether he would choose to marry his daughter to a poor man\nof merit, or to a worthless man of an estate: \u201cI would prefer a man\nwithout an estate to an estate without a man.\u201d Daughters are unwilling\nto abandon a life of idleness and luxury in their father\u2019s house to\nshare the fortunes of young men who, though poor in person, are rich\nin worth, and have that within them which will command success. Such\ndaughters should remember that a young lady once refused to marry a\nyoung man on account of his poverty, whose death was mourned by two\ncontinents\u2014the noble philanthropist, George Peabody. When the late\nEmperor of France was living in poverty in London, he fell in love\nwith a lady of rank and beauty, and solicited her hand. The lady, who\nregarded him as a mere political dreamer, rejected his suit, when he\nuttered this prophetic remark: \u201cMadame, you have refused a crown.\u201d\nFew young ladies have an opportunity of \u201crefusing a crown,\u201d but, in\nrefusing young men of talent, industry, and virtue, on account of\ntheir present poverty, to accept worthless young men of fortune, they\nfrequently refuse a life of domestic peace and happiness for one of\nsplendid misery.\n\nThe ancient philosophers very wisely defined marriage to be a remedy\nprovided by Providence for the safety and preservation of youth. We all\nrequire sympathy and love, and where can there be sympathy so perfect\nand love so enchanting as that which a true wife feels for her husband?\nChateaubriand, in his magnificent work, _The Genius of Christianity_,\ngives us a sweet and affecting description of the Christian husband\nand wife: \u201cThe wife of a Christian is not a mere mortal: she is an\nextraordinary, a mysterious, an angelic being; she is flesh of her\nhusband\u2019s flesh, and bone of his bone. By his union with her, he only\ntakes back a portion of his substance. His soul as well as his body is\nimperfect without his wife. He possesses strength; she has beauty. He\nencounters afflictions, and the partner of his life is there to soothe\nhim. Without woman, he would be rude, unpolished, solitary. Woman\nsuspends around him the flowers of life, like those honeysuckles of the\nforest which adorn the trunk of the oak with their perfumed garlands.\u201d\n\nWell might the great poet of domestic bliss exclaim of marriage:\n\n  \u201cSuch a sacred and homefelt delight,\n  Such sober certainty of waking bliss,\n  I never heard till now.\u201d\n\nAll readers will recall the exquisite description of the married life\nof Albert and Alexandrina in _A Sister\u2019s Story_; their charming home\nat Castellamare, on the Bay of Naples; the soft air and brilliant\nskies of Italy; excursions among the lovely islands of the bay; pious\npilgrimages to holy shrines; their summer trip to the East; their\nwinter in Venice, followed by the declining health of Albert; their\nreturn to France; and the saintly death of Albert at the early age of\ntwenty-four.\n\nOur American Catholic youth owe a duty to their church and their\ncountry which they neglect with criminal indifference. What become\nof the many young men of brilliant promise who each year leave our\nCatholic colleges laden with honors? Why are their voices never heard\nafter commencement day? Why is their graduation thesis their last\nliterary composition? It is because the seed of learning planted in\ntheir minds at college, like the seed of the husbandman in the Gospel\nwhich fell among thorns, is choked with the riches and pleasures of\nlife, and yields no fruit.\n\nNo better example can be offered for the imitation of American Catholic\nyoung men than that of Montalembert, the great orator of France.[213]\nEven in his schoolboy days, his aim was high and beautiful: he scorned\nall folly and idleness. When he was only seventeen, he solemnly\nselected as his motto through life, \u201cGod and Liberty,\u201d to which he\nremained faithful until death. A young man of brilliant intellect,\nvivid imagination, and noble ambition, he determined to play a man\u2019s\npart in the world, and earnestly longed for the time to commence his\nglorious work. He wasted not the golden days of youth amid the gay\nfrivolities of fashionable amusement, for he vehemently denied that\nyouth was the time which should be devoted to the pleasures of society.\nHe contended that youth should be given up with ardor to study or to\npreparation for a profession. \u201cAh!\u201d he exclaims, \u201cwhen one has paid\none\u2019s tribute to one\u2019s country; when it is possible to appear in\nsociety crowned with the laurels of debate, or of the battle-field, or\nat least of universal wisdom; when one is sure of commanding respect\nand admiration everywhere\u2014then it is the time to like society, and\nenter it with satisfaction. I can imagine Pitt or Fox coming out of the\nHouse of Commons, where they had struck their adversaries dumb by their\neloquence, and enjoying a dinner party.\u201d\n\nThis admirable advice from one who so worthily won his way in the world\nand in society should be carefully considered by the youth of America,\nwho too frequently rush into society half educated, and wholly unfit\nfor the duties and responsibilities of the world. An early marriage\nis the best beginning for those not called to the ecclesiastical or\nreligious state. It gives at once an object and an aim to life. It\nfixes the heart, and keeps it warm and bright, preventing it from\nrunning to waste. It is a holy state, established by God as the\nordinary means for the happiness and salvation of the greatest number\nof the faithful. As a rule, it is the safest state for persons living\nan ordinary life, and for many it is the only one which is safe. As\nthere is no rule, however, without exceptions, we do not intend to\ndeny that there are many exceptions to this rule. Numbers of persons,\nespecially among the devout female sex, are called to a single life in\nthe world either by inclination or necessity, and are both better and\nmore happy in that state than they would be in any other. The reasons\nwhich we have presented in favor of marriage and of early marriage\napply, therefore, only generally and not universally to persons in all\nthe ranks and conditions of society, and have their more especial force\nin relation to those who live in what is called \u201cthe world,\u201d but most\nespecially in reference to young men.\n\n\n\n\nSCHOLARS _EN D\u00c9SHABILL\u00c9_.\n\nSCHOLARS before the world and scholars at home are often the greatest\ncontrast to themselves. Daily life is, after all, so levelling that\nit makes a _tabula rasa_ of crowned heads and peasants, of sages and\nfools, of good men and bad. There is no visible _nimbus_ round the head\nof the man who towers above his fellows, as there is round the summit\nof the mountain that pierces the clouds. Without the conventional\ndistinctions of costumes, attendance, or display, there is no means of\ntelling the man of giant intellect from the man of common attainments.\nNot that some men lack that physical superiority which at once causes\na stranger to turn eagerly round and ask, \u201cWho is that?\u201d but this mark\nso often accompanies other men whose interior life does not justify its\npresence, or whose career has been a mistake and a failure, that it is\npractically valueless. The outward sign or \u201cticket\u201d requisite to denote\na man of acknowledged station is therefore as necessary in this blind\nworld as it is humiliating to the world\u2019s sense of discernment. Take\nan imaginary procession of magnates, financial, political, artistic,\nroyal, or noble, dress them in plain citizen\u2019s garb, and then send in\na child to pick out the prizes among them, to distinguish the bishop\nfrom the chancellor, the diplomatist from the banker, the king from\nthe scholar. Guided by purely natural instinct (not unlike that which\npresided at the election of barbarian chieftains in the Vth century),\nthe child will call the tallest, strongest, manliest personage the\nking, and will choose the most venerable, gentle, and serious as the\nbishop. Ten to one it will have taken a soldier for king, and an artist\nfor bishop; and so on _ad infinitum_. Now place those great people\nin suitable coaches, dress them in appropriate robes, put on them the\ncrowns, coronets, crosses, and insignia of their order, and the veriest\nbaby will recognize by the conventional instinct of civilization the\nrank and importance of each; only it will then be seen that the king\nis that quiet man of banker-like aspect, the bishop yonder retiring\nindividual with a bald head, the financier that dandy with the\nunobtrusive gold ring and faultless yet severe costume, the ambassador\nthat commonplace-looking person hidden under stars and ribbons. Change\nthe slide once more, set all these good people down at their respective\nhomes, and look through the magic-lantern again. What do we see? A\ndining-room, a table set with more or less perfection of appointments,\na few noiseless servants and romping children, a homely, middle-aged\nmatron, serene and placid, perhaps looking over an account-book or\nhemming pocket-handkerchiefs. The bishop\u2019s household alone will wear\na distinctive mark, but, compared with other ecclesiastical abodes,\nwill keep its master\u2019s secrets as well as any secular one. God alone\nknows where to point to a saint or a genius among these ordinary\nsurroundings, and the objects of his discernment would often surprise\nany human observer who should be admitted to share his knowledge.\n\nThe craving which men have to know the details of the private life of\nany one distinguished from the commonalty by talent or position is an\ninexplicable phenomenon, and one that to the end will defy our solution\nand persist in remaining in force long after we have decided that it\nhas no business to exist. Is it that we are envious of everything above\nus, and wish to dim its glory by putting it to the same test as our\nown dull being? Is it through a morbid desire to analyze that which,\nagainst our will, enchants us, in order that, having done so, and\nreduced it to various elements which separately are powerless to charm,\nwe may depreciate the whole? Or is it through that loftier feeling\nthat urges us to ally ourselves by sympathy with all that is noble and\nexalted in human nature? Do we long to claim at least a fellowship with\nintellect through the sacred instincts which intellect and mediocrity\nshare alike? It is unfortunately as often through the baser as through\nthe nobler feeling; and yet, when we have sifted the tendency to its\nsimplest elements, we cannot say that we have personally rid ourselves\nof the foible or learned the lesson of lofty incuriousness which by\nimplication we have taught.\n\nThe daily life and privations, the struggles and successes, the\ndomestic joys, sorrows, and losses of great men have a deeper meaning\nthan shows on the surface; for not only have they influenced the works\nor writings through which these men have become known to us, but they\nshow how independent of outward circumstances is their greatness.\nIn this sense, they present encouragement to many in whom the same\nqualities are latent, but who from faintheartedness might otherwise\nhave neglected their gifts and wasted their powers. They teach yet\nanother lesson; for in them we see what compensations the mind gives\nin the midst of even sordid trials, and how the higher a man\u2019s\nintellectual training is, so much the stronger is his moral endurance.\nBut draw what moral we will from them, the interest in them remains and\nwill remain to the end of time. Trivial as they are, too, they somehow\nfix the personality of a man of genius better in the mind of posterity\nthan his greatest virtues or doughtiest deeds; as, for instance, King\nAlfred is better remembered as the disguised soldier burning the cakes\nof his peasant-hostess than as the wise lawgiver and heroic chieftain\nof the Saxons. Prince Charlie\u2019s romantic escapes have endeared him to\nthe Scottish heart and made him the centre of the later traditions of\na romantic people, while no such halo gathers round the person of the\nFirst or Second Charles of England, even though the \u201cMartyr-King\u201d has\nwon by his tragical death a separate niche in the Valhalla of history.\n\nIn all ages and all climes, learning and wealth have seldom gone\ntogether. Anecdotes of scholars whose daily wants were in sad contrast\nwith their aspirations abound in the records of all centres of\nlearning. Dr. Newman, in his lectures on universities, has given us\nmany touching as well as ludicrous examples of this truth. Among the\ndisciples of Pythagoras, if we recollect accurately, was one Cleanthes,\na professional boxer from Corinth, who, smitten with a love of wisdom,\ncame to Athens to become a philosopher. As he had not even the trifling\ndaily sum required by the professor of learning, he spent half of each\nday in earning it by _carrying water_ and doing such like services to\nthe citizens, while the remaining hours he passed at the academy. One\nday, the wind blew his upper garment open, and his luckier companions\nmost \u201cunphilosophically\u201d jeered him when they saw that his outer\ncovering was all that he had. He afterwards rose to great proficiency,\nand taught a school of his own\u2014never, however, discarding his simple\nways. The well-known story of the three students who had but one cloak\nbetween them and wore it each in his turn in the lecture-hall while the\nothers stayed in bed, is told of Athenians as well as Saxons, Irish, or\nItalians in the universities of the middle ages. Bp. Vaughan\u2019s _Life of\nS. Thomas_ abounds with such anecdotes of impecunious and enthusiastic\nscholars. S. Thomas himself, it is related, wrote his _Summa_ (not the\ngreat work, but a previous and less comprehensive book) on such stray\npieces of parchment, old letters, torn covers, etc., as he could pick\nup or beg from his fellow-students. S. Richard of Canterbury, when\nteaching in his chair at Oxford, was so careless of his _honorarium_\nthat he generally left it on the window-sill, unless he had need of it\nto relieve some poor person. The same saint in his youth was sometimes\nso frozen to the bone that he could not continue his studies and was\nfain to run round the court of the school for half an hour every night\nto restore circulation before he went to bed. The Oxford students\nsuffered hunger as well as cold in the service of philosophy, for they\noften had no other resource than to beg the broken victuals from the\ntables of the tradesmen, and one of them avers in a private letter\nthat, on a great holiday, he and his friends made merry over an unusual\nfeast\u2014\u201ca penny piece of beef between four.\u201d\n\nIn Paris, the case was the same. The lay students suffered most, for\neach of the great religious orders had its own representative house,\nand the young religious lived in community. Among the seculars it\nwas different; they were quartered on the citizens, and, when they\nwere honest as well as industrious, led a terribly hard life. They\nlodged in garrets, and lay on straw; their landlords extorted from\nthem exorbitant rents for their share of the filthy tenement, and\nthey often had to depend on charity for their food. Ingenious as\npoverty always is, it suggested remedies to these harassed votaries of\nlearning, even as it has in all succeeding ages. The poorer students\ntook to copying books and selling them at starvation prices, working\nfor others when they could find patrons, for themselves when they were\nforced to do so. Thus originated bookstalls and private shops for the\nsale of books, parchment, wax, and ink. In the dark days of winter, the\nwant of light was severely felt by those who were too poor to buy oil,\nand pale, shivering forms might be seen huddled in doorways, grouped on\ncorners, or gathered round a street-shrine, anywhere, in fact, where a\nlamp could be found, all intent on their notes of yesterday\u2019s lecture,\nor busily examining the subject of to-morrow\u2019s lesson. Beside them was\never the other world of students\u2014the gay, rich, and careless: those\nwho spent in one night\u2019s revel what would have bought parchment and oil\nfor six months for the thrifty, hard-working copyist of MSS. But what\nmartyrdoms were undergone for knowledge\u2019s sake in those days of earnest\nsearch after science no man can tell. Knowing less of the details of\nmedi\u00e6val life than we do of the daily needs of later generations, we\ncan perhaps hardly appreciate the degree of privation endured by these\nsturdy knowledge-seekers.\n\nTurning to the chivalrous land of Germany, we find, in the same\ncentury as that of S. Thomas and the students of Paris University,\nthe school of poor minstrels, the famous Minnesingers. Kroeger, in\nhis work on them and their novel art, says: \u201cThese singers led a life\nmost strange and romantic. At a time when cities had as yet barely\ncome into existence in Germany, and the castles of the lords were\nthe chief gathering-places of the vast floating population of the\nCrusading times, these Minnesingers, with _little or nothing_ besides\ntheir sword, fiddle, or harp and some bit of love-ribbon or the like\nfrom their sweetheart, wandered from village to village, and castle to\ncastle, everywhere welcomed with gladness, and receiving their expected\nremuneration with the proud unconcern of strolling vagabonds.... For\nthese singing knights felt no more delicacy in chronicling the good\nthings they received from their patrons than in immortalizing the\nmeanness of those who let them depart without _gifts of clothing, food,\nand money_.... The young knight was by custom compelled to saunter\nforth into the world, and generally by poverty to keep on sauntering in\nthis fashion all his lifetime. Then he perfected himself in the art of\ncomposing songs and playing some stringed instrument, which became both\na source of infinite enjoyment and an unfailing source of revenue if\nthe knight was poor. With his art, he paid his boarding-bills; his art\nfurnished him with clothes, horses, and equipments. More than all, his\nart won him the love of his lady.\u201d\n\nWalther von der Vogelweide\u2014\u201cbird\u2019s pasture or meadow\u201d\u2014was one of\nthe foremost of these wandering troubadours, and, as he himself\ntells us, was very poor. He went to Austria to better his fortunes\nby the knightly art alone fit for one of gentle birth, and among his\npatrons found one, the Duke of K\u00e4rnten, whose meanness has come down\nto posterity, through the then obscure minstrel\u2019s verse, in having\n\u201cwithheld a promised suit of new clothes\u201d from the poet.\n\nWalther\u2019s best luck seems to have been his appointment as tutor to the\nson of the Emperor Frederic II. This led to his being given a small\nestate with fixed income; but he had struggled long enough in gay\nthough hopeless poverty before fortune singled him out for her favors.\nAs usual, his mind was far beyond the standard of his circumstances; a\nthinker, philosopher, observer of human nature, an active member of the\nstate when he participated in political duties, a conscientious patriot\nand a true Catholic. In politics he never refused to recognize whatever\nmerits the opposite party held, nor to denounce any injustice on the\npart of his own; in religion, he was always alive to the abuses of the\ntime, despite his devout faith and earnest worship. Kroeger says of\nhim that, though but \u201clittle tainted by the prejudices of nationality,\nhe is, in his thorough earnestness and rare purity of spirit, even\nmore truly a representative German than either Goethe or Schiller.\u201d Of\nlater authors, poets, artists, there are ampler memoirs left to teach\nus the inner and darker life of the spirit we know in this bright\npublic envelope. The Greeks, who held that all free-born men, Hellenes\nby descent, had a right to become learned and elegant scholars, and\nwho upon this theory based their practice of having slaves to do that\nwork which did not comport with the calm attitude of mind necessary\nto philosophical study, made use of very cogent arguments, humanly\nspeaking. It remained for Christianity to do something more sublime yet\nthan to devote an entire class of men to lofty aims and studies; it was\nreserved for Christ\u2019s law to change even menial pursuits and vulgar\nnecessities into employments fit for the highest intellect. The soul\u2019s\nsanctification became a loftier aim than the cultivation of the mind\nalone, and every office, however lowly, was made capable of ministering\nto this new aim. Thus was the stigma which the pagan world had set upon\npoverty and dependence removed, but the fact of poverty was to remain\nfor ever. Just as by his death our Lord had taken away, not the fact of\ndeath, but \u201cits sting, its victory,\u201d and its ignominy, so by his life\nhe took all bitterness from that inevitable condition of the majority\nof mankind\u2014physical need and suffering.\n\nHow far this century, and indeed the spirit of the world in all\ncenturies, has succeeded in counteracting this beneficent change, and\nin fastening again upon poverty the disgrace entailed, on it by the\npagan system, each one can judge for himself. Nay, many have a personal\nstandard by which they can judge of it. One cannot read the life of\nany person of merit in any branch of learning without this pathetic\nelement constantly cropping out. Here we have Kepler, the astronomer,\nstruggling with constant anxieties, telling fortunes for a livelihood,\nand saying that astrology, as the daughter of astronomy, ought to keep\nher mother. \u201cI supplicate you,\u201d he writes to a friend of his, \u201cif there\nis a situation vacant at T\u00fcbingen, do what you can to obtain it for me,\nand let me know the prices of bread and wine, and other necessaries of\nlife; for my wife is not accustomed to live on beans.\u201d He had to accept\nall sorts of jobs; he made almanacs, and served any one who would pay\nhim. The gentle, melancholy Schiller wasted by necessity much of his\ntime in literary hack-work at a period when the pay of authors was\nso miserable that they could hardly exist by the pen: he translated\nFrench books at \u201ca shilling a page.\u201d Even Goethe, whose fortune was\nquite independent, could not add to his income by his talent; and when\nMerck, the publisher, offered three pounds sterling for a drama of his,\nthe old poet might well ask: \u201cIf Europe praised me, what has Europe\ndone for me? Nothing. Even my works have been an expense to me.\u201d\n\nPerhaps no life has ever been so continual a struggle as that of\nOliver Goldsmith. From his very childhood he was used to starvation;\nfor family difficulties caused him to go to Dublin University, not as\na pensioner (as he had hoped), but as a sizar. He had to sweep the\ncourts, wait at table, and perform other menial tasks of the same\nsort. It was a bitter price to pay for learning, but his after-life\nwas no sweeter in its manifold experiences. Before he left college,\nhis father died, and he was thrown on his own resources, when he often\nhad to pawn his books, and at last took to writing street-ballads,\nwhich he disposed of at five shillings per copy. Twice the shiftless\nscholar tried to make his way to America, and failed; his pretensions\nto Anglican orders were crushed by his failure to pass his examination,\nand his venture as a tutor was equally unsuccessful. His good genius,\nhis uncle, Mr. Contarine, sent him to Edinburgh to become a physician,\nand this was the last of the regular professions which he tried. We\nfind him wandering through Flanders, singing and playing his flute at\nthe houses of the peasantry, in order to obtain a supper and a night\u2019s\nlodging; then attending chemical lectures at the Universities of Leyden\nand Louvain; taking part in the open discussions on philosophical\nsubjects held on certain days in the convents and colleges of Italy,\nand returning to England without a farthing in his pocket; then taking\na fortnight to reach London from Dover, begging, performing, or playing\non the road. He went among the London apothecaries, \u201cand asked them to\nlet him spread plasters for them, pound in their mortars, or run with\ntheir medicines.\u201d It was through a poor journeyman printer, a patient\nof his, that he first gained the notice of a great publisher; but his\ntroubles were only increased by his literary ventures. Now he is in a\ngarret, with the milk-woman knocking at the door, pressing him for a\ntrifling milk-score, which he is too poor to pay; now he repeatedly\nloses the chance of good situations, because he has not a decent suit\nof clothes to his back. Once a publisher provided him with clothes, in\nadvance, for four reviews for his magazine; but before Goldsmith has\nfinished his work, his landlord is dragged away by bailiffs to pass\nhis Christmas in prison for debt. The impulsive author has no money,\nbut immediately runs and pawns his clothes, liberating his miserable\nhost, and rejoicing the poor family. Left starving himself, he gets\na trifling loan from a friend on the four books to be reviewed, when\nthe publisher makes a sudden and peremptory demand for the clothes\nand books, or payment for the same. Goldsmith begs him, as a favor,\n\u201cfor fear of worse happening to him,\u201d to put him in gaol. The pay he\nreceived for his ceaseless work was ridiculously slender; for his\n_Plutarch\u2019s Lives_ he got eight pounds a volume. The novel which has\nimmortalized his name, the _Vicar of Wakefield_, was sold for sixty\npounds, and in the most unceremonious fashion possible. Johnson, the\nauthor\u2019s fast friend, gives the story of the transaction thus: \u201cI\nreceived one morning a message from poor Goldsmith that he was in great\ndistress, and, as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that\nI would come to him as soon as possible. I sent him a guinea, and\npromised to come to him directly. I accordingly went as soon as I was\ndressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent,\nat which he was in a violent passion.... I desired he would be calm;\n... he then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he\nproduced to me. I looked into it, and saw its merits, told the landlady\nI should soon return, and, having gone to a bookseller, sold it for\nsixty pounds. I brought Goldsmith the money, and he discharged his\nrent.\u201d The famous novel, so hastily disposed of to stave off actual\nstarvation and imprisonment, was thought so little of by its new owner\nthat it was eighteen months before he published it. Although his fame\ngrew with years, Goldsmith remained in distress; for he never could\nkeep what he earned. Indiscriminate generosity, often lavished on\nunworthy companions, swallowed up his growing but always transitory\nincome; and the week after a gorgeous supper or a tailor\u2019s bill of\nextravagant items duly receipted, we yet find him writing a short\nEnglish grammar for _five pounds_, and, later on, borrowing _one pound_\nfrom his publisher.\n\nThe young poet Chatterton, impulsive, gifted, and unfortunate, the\ncontemporary and friend of Goldsmith, was another victim to the\nfickleness of the muse. Starving and desperate, he at last committed\nsuicide in a miserable London garret, in a dirty street leading out of\nHolborn, a neighborhood not much more desirable than Baxter Street, New\nYork. There was no one to claim his body, and it was finally taken to\nthe \u201cbonehouse\u201d of St. Andrew\u2019s, and buried in the pauper burial-ground\nin Shoe Lane.\n\nIn thriving America, the El Dorado of the untaught European\nimagination, the scholar is hardly destined to a happier lot than in\nthe old realms where intellect is supposed to have a traditionary\nvalue. Of Nathaniel Hawthorne we have various records of want and\nmanful struggle. Always brave under adverse circumstances, this is how\nhe words his own misfortunes in 1820, when, still a boy, he already\nedited a small and obscure periodical called the _Spectator_. Among the\nobituary notices one day, the following was conspicuous: \u201cWe are sorry\nto be under the necessity of informing our readers that no death of any\nimportance has taken place, except that of the publisher of this paper,\nwho died of starvation, owing to the slenderness of his patronage.\u201d\nIn 1839, he had been so lucky, in a worldly sense, as to have secured\nthe post of head-collector of the port of Salem, Mass.; and, in this\nuncongenial yet lucrative situation, he felt beyond the reach of\nnecessity. He curiously laments his ludicrous dilemma, and comments on\nhis name, \u201cNathaniel Hawthorne,\u201d which he had fondly hoped from his\nchildhood to have sent forth to the world on the title-page of some\nimportant work, now taking wing for the remotest ends of the earth,\nscrawled in red chalk on the covers of packing-cases, tea-chests, and\ncotton-bales. Political changes twice ousted him from his position,\nand the second ejection was definitive\u2014a starting-point in his life.\nHe went home one evening, and announced his dispossession to his wife.\nThere were no provisions in the house, save a barrel of flour and some\ninsignificant adjuncts. The family had hardly any money in hand, but\nno one complained. Hawthorne told his wife he was going to write in\nearnest, and they must trust to Providence in the meanwhile. Partly by\neconomy of the most rigid kind, partly by the helping hand of friendly\nneighbors, the Hawthornes managed to keep the \u201cwolf from the door\u201d\ntill the novel was completed. The evening it was finished, the author,\nfeverish, excited, and emaciated, closeted himself with his wife, and\nread her the MS. She listened intently, the interest becoming painful,\nher breath came and went, her color faded gradually, and, at the\nclimax of the wonderful story, fell at his feet almost in convulsions,\nexclaiming, \u201cFor God\u2019s sake, do not read further; I cannot bear it.\u201d\nNext morning, he sent the novel to a friend of his, a sound judge and\nunsparing critic in the literary world. The friend _raced_ through the\nMS., enthralled by its powerful word-imagery, and came himself with his\nanswer. Meeting the author\u2019s little boy, Julian, in the garden in front\nof the house, he caught him up in his arms, exclaiming: \u201cChild! child!\ndo you know what a father you have?\u201d and rushed into the house, fairly\nstorming the newly revealed genius with congratulations.[214] Thus was\nthe _Scarlet Letter_ produced and Hawthorne\u2019s name made. After that,\nhis success was rapid, and literature proved a sufficient support for\nher gifted votary.\n\nAnother American genius was less fortunate. In Baltimore, a periodical\nentitled the _Saturday Visitor_ offered a prize for the best poem and\nstory (the amount we cannot precisely recollect). When the candidates\u2019\nMSS. were examined, one of them proved to be a collection of clever\npoems and a story written almost in \u201ccopper-plate\u201d hand. The editors\nlooked no further, but said, in joke, \u201cLet us give the prize to the\nfirst of geniuses who has written legibly.\u201d The name of the young\nauthor was Edgar Allan Poe.\n\n\u201cHe came just as he was,\u201d says his biographer, \u201cthe prize-money not\nhaving yet been sent him, with a seedy coat buttoned up to conceal the\ntotal absence of linen, but with shoes whose gaping crevices could not\nbe made to hide the absence of socks.\u201d Mr. Kennedy (the editor) took\nhim to the tailor, and fitted him out as comfortably and completely\nas possible, after which he was installed as an inmate of his house,\nand for a little time employed on the staff of the _Saturday Visitor_.\nThis was in 1833. The vicissitudes of fortune were perpetual, though to\nhis terrible propensity to intemperance much of his constant distress\nwas due. A gentleman despite the squalor of his appearance, a genius\ndespite his uncontrolled vices, he was one of the most unfortunate\nof men. A few years later, he writes to a friend: \u201cCan you not send\nme five dollars? I am sick, and Virginia (his wife) is almost gone.\u201d\nIn 1839, his prospects were for the moment not so hopeless, and one\nwho often visited him testified to his home in Philadelphia, \u201cthough\nslightly and cheaply furnished,\u201d being yet \u201cso tasteful and refined,\nso fitly disposed, that it seemed altogether suitable for a man of\ngenius.\u201d Again, his biographer speaks of him as \u201calways in pecuniary\ndifficulties, and his sick wife frequently in want of the merest\nnecessities of life.\u201d For his poem \u201cThe Raven,\u201d first published in the\n_Whig Review_, and since become the pedestal of his worldwide fame, he\nreceived the sum of _ten dollars_; and in 1848, while writing for the\n_Southern Literary Messenger_, he was content to work for two dollars\na page. And yet, so far as fame was concerned, Poe\u2019s name and talent\nwere known beyond the seas, admired by two continents; and when, upon\nentering an office in New York, he would mention who he was, men turned\nround to stare at the gifted poet who, all starving as he was, was\nalready enrolled among the great men of America.\n\nThe philosopher, Jean Jacques Rousseau, had equal occasion to put\nhis philosophy to the same universal test of patience. Finding a\nmercantile clerkship ill-adapted to his poetic and vagrant humor, he\nleft Geneva and went to Lausanne, where he tried music as a profession.\nHis experiences were curious. He tried to teach music, but, as he\nsays himself, \u201cThe scholars _did not crowd_, and two or three German\nboys, luckily as stupid as I was ignorant of my business, were my only\npupils. Under my tuition they did not become great _croquenotes_. One\nday, I was sent for to a house to teach a little \u2018serpent of a girl,\u2019\nto whom it gave infinite pleasure to show me a quantity of music I\ndid not know, and then to play one piece for me, \u2018just to show the\nmaster how it should go.\u2019 I knew absolutely so little of reading that\nI could not follow a note of my own composition in such a manner as\nto be able to regulate its execution.\u201d It may be supposed the poor\nman did not thrive on these means of livelihood; his fare was meagre\nenough, and he paid only thirty francs a month for his board and\nlodging in the little inn where he made his home. For his dinner, he\nhad but one dish of soup, with something a little more substantial for\nhis supper at night. Notwithstanding his desire for independence and\nfreedom from the personal thraldom (_assujettissement_) of a fixed and\nsedentary occupation, he found out that \u201cone must live.\u201d So he took\nto copying music at a small remuneration, and so fond did he become\nof his self-chosen trade (for with him it was not art) that in later\nlife, when in comfortable circumstances, he took to it again. But his\nmusical mania went yet further. He composed an operetta entitled _Le\nDevin du Village_\u2014\u201cThe Village Astrologer, or Fortune-teller\u201d\u2014and\nhad it executed at Lausanne. He says of its first performance \u201cthat it\nwas such a _charivari_ as could not be surpassed; that every one shut\ntheir ears and opened wide their eyes; that it was a witch\u2019s sabbath, a\ndevilish hubbub, insupportable and monstrous.\u201d The tide turned one day,\nand the same play was performed in the court theatre at Versailles,\nthe family and courtiers of Louis XVI. calling the music dream-like,\ndivine, entrancing! This sounds like an anticipation of the diversity\nof opinion now observable concerning Wagner and Liszt.\n\nReal artists, like Mozart, were hardly more fortunate in their domain\nof legitimate art than was Rousseau in his queer attempts at music.\nAlthough his name was known, his music extolled to the skies, and his\nperson retained as a priceless court treasure at Vienna, Wolfgang\nMozart hardly made a competency by his unrivalled and acknowledged\ngenius. His early death was mainly the result of continual anxiety on\nthe score of personal necessities. When the mysterious stranger came\nand gave the order for the requiem, Mozart was already ill, worn, and\nexhausted. The stranger\u2019s opportune gift, or fragment in advance, came\ntoo late, though it was sorely needed at the time; and, before the\norder was completed, the great musician was on his death-bed, his wife\nConstance by his side, his friends rehearsing the finished part of the\nrequiem at the foot of his bed, while his haggard features were lit up\nto the last by the feverish enthusiasm so soon to be quenched in death.\n\nIt would seem as though the greater the genius, the greater the\ndestitution. Hardly one has escaped the furnace of poverty. Curran,\nthe great Irish lawyer and orator, was stranded early in life, without\nfriends, connections, or fortune, conscious of talent above the crowd\nthat elbowed him, and sensitive to a painful degree. He himself thus\ntells the story of the first fee of any consequence which he received\nin his profession: \u201cI then lived upon Hog Hill, Dublin; my wife and\nchildren were the chief furniture of my apartments; as to my rent, it\nstood much the same chance of its liquidation with the national debt.\nMrs. Curran, however, was a barrister\u2019s lady, and what was wanting\nin wealth she was well determined should be supplied by dignity. The\nlandlady, on the other hand, had no idea of any other gradation except\nthat of pounds, shillings, and pence. I walked out one morning, in\norder to avoid the perpetual altercations on this subject, with my\nmind, you may imagine, in no very enviable temperament. I fell into\ngloom, to which from my infancy I had been occasionally subject. I had\na family, for whom I had no dinner, and a landlady, for whom I had\nno rent. I had gone abroad in despondence; I returned home almost in\ndesperation. When I opened the door of my study the first object that\npresented itself was an immense folio of a brief, twenty golden guineas\nwrapped up beside it, and the name of _old Bob Lyons_ marked on the\nback of it. I paid my landlady, bought a good dinner, gave Bob Lyons a\nshare of it, and that dinner was the date of my prosperity!\u201d\n\nOne of the most Christian and sympathetic authors of France (in a\ndepartment in which it must be confessed she does not excel\u2014poetry),\nAlphonse de Lamartine, was both in his youth and in his old age\nthe victim of poverty. Though in his childhood his poverty was not\nabsolutely sordid, like that of many a scholar as talented and even\nas well born, still it was such that his mother had to exercise the\nstrictest economy on her small property, to help her peasant-servants\nin many a lowly household task, and was in such straits that the\nfailure or success of her slender vintage was to her the chief event\nof the year. A noble woman, a Christian Cornelia, she knew how to\nturn these troubles into lessons for her son; and a more genial,\nlovable \u201cgreat man\u201d than Lamartine has seldom claimed our homage,\nnotwithstanding the foibles which necessarily qualify our admiration.\nPolitical and diplomatic success gave him far different prospects in\nmiddle life. His poems were the first heralds, the joy-bells, of a new\nschool; his name was a talisman. But the shadow of genius\u2014relentless\npoverty\u2014fell upon him again, and his last days were little better than\na pauper\u2019s.\n\nThe literary world of Paris presents the acme of this\ncombination\u2014squalor and talent. Dramatists, poets, painters,\nmusicians, the smaller fry of the daily press, the heavier authors of\nyellow-covered _romans_, all mingled in one inextricable _bohemia_\nof distress, of recklessness, of generosity, of self-sacrifice. Good\nand bad are strangely interwoven; the starving writer stints himself\nto help the dying artist, or the swaggering playwright repudiates his\ndebts to gamble away in one night the rare remuneration of months of\ntoil; and amid the confusion, the din of this assemblage, amid this\nfellowship of misery, remains the seemingly eternal truth that the path\nof scholarship, or even its counterfeit, is _not_ the legitimate path\nof success.\n\nIn France, where the intellect is so fertile that it is almost the\nonly land where literature is a profession, not a pastime, we may turn\nto one figure more, a sweet and angelic one, very different from the\nstormy and erratic geniuses among whom we have been wandering\u2014Eug\u00e9nie\nde Gu\u00e9rin, the Catholic poetess, the devoted type of sisterly love. She\nwas poor, though not to destitution. The family, once famous among the\nLanguedoc Crusaders, and owning a great feudal estate, had dwindled\ndown to the possession of a patrimony hardly so large and not half\nso rich as a modern farm. The woman now known throughout Europe and\nAmerica by her exquisite _Journal_ and _Letters_\u2014the starting-point\nof a new class of domestic literature\u2014tells us simply and playfully\nenough in those writings\u2014which during life she never dreamed of giving\nto the public\u2014of her humble avocations in her father\u2019s household. Now\nwe see her, having cooked the supper with her sister\u2019s aid while the\nservants were all gone to an instruction for confirmation, sitting by\nthe huge fire in the kitchen, because it was warm there, and making\na hearty meal of coarse soup, boiled potatoes, and a cake baked by\nherself, \u201cwith the dogs and cats to wait upon us,\u201d as she says. She\ndid not like these household cares, however; they were a cross to her,\nand her good sister \u201cMimi\u201d took much of this cross off her hands.\nAnother day she has been washing, but she consoles herself with the\nthought of Homer\u2019s Nausicaa washing her brother\u2019s tunics. Once, when\nshe was lifting a heavy cauldron from the kitchen fire, her father\ntenderly said he did not like to see her doing such work; but she\nanswered with a smile that S. Bonaventure was found washing the dishes\nafter the refectory meal when the Papal deputation came to offer him\nthe cardinal\u2019s hat! So she taught herself to do \u201cdisgusting things\nwithout feeling disgust; as, for instance, blackening her hands in the\nkitchen.\u201d Another time she makes a hasty note of her affection for her\nbrother and her unconquerable longing after solitude, but adds that\nshe has no time for it now, \u201cas there are ducks to be plucked, a pie\nto be prepared, a little carnival-dinner got up; in a word, because\nthe parish priest was coming, and her help was anxiously waited for\nin the kitchen\u201d; while another day she is mending old house-linen. On\nthe other hand, she was reading S. Augustine, S. Jerome, S. Teresa,\nBossuet, F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, Plutarch, books of theology and philosophy, mysticism\nand morals, the works of great thinkers; she was writing poems of\nmore exquisite purity and wealth of imagery than the famous young\nbrother whom Sainte-Beuve and George Sand declared one of the foremost\npoets of the day: she was a child in her simplicity, a saint in her\nabnegation\u2014a woman in a thousand. We have dwelt with the greater\nemphasis and satisfaction on this last reference for the reason that\nthe modern world, in its haste to find countenance for its license in\nthought and morals, has brought into prominence only the less worthy\nspecimens of French genius, to the neglect of the many admirable\nwriters who are now for the first time, becoming familiar to English\nreaders.\n\nThis strangely mingled thread of life which we have illustrated in\nthese pages has its pathetic as well as its ludicrous aspect. Men are\nconstantly complaining of the \u201cinjustice\u201d of God in making inequalities\namong them; if they looked a little deeper, they would see that what\nthey call inequalities are compensations. The world has to be ballasted\nlike a ship; the heaviest merchandise is not always the most precious,\nbut it is none the less necessary. It would be preposterous to expect\n_all_ men to be rich, good, and clever; gifts balance each other in\nGod\u2019s plan, and, since men sigh so for riches, the wise Distributor of\nearthly prizes has answered many men literally, and given them riches\nalone, leaving their brains a blank. To discuss this vexed question is\nnot, however, our intention; a few examples, such as we have drawn from\nreal life, speak for themselves, and facts are ever more tolerated than\ndisquisitions. We may learn from those facts a new interest in books;\nwe may remember, when we read a new work, that a human being\u2019s life is\nsewed in with those pages; that what we carelessly toss aside after\na moment\u2019s perusal has cost hours of trouble, of research, probably\nof privation; that the pathos that draws tears from our eyes is often\ntranscribed and softened down from the actual experience of the writer;\nwhile the humor we approve of and the piquancy we admire are rather\nborn of bitter defiance against an adverse fate than grown from the\nnatural soil of a healthy sense of fun. A book is often the hot-pressed\nfruit of an unhappy life rather than the product of elegant leisure,\nand one cannot help feeling a tender but far from disparaging pity for\nthe thousands of educated men and women whose very talent, in a sense,\ncompels them, through circumstances of privation, to write in haste and\nanxiety books that are inadequate representatives of that talent.\n\n\nNEW PUBLICATIONS.\n\n THE S. AUGUSTINE SERIES: I. On the Trinity; II. Harmony of\n the Evangelists, and the Sermon on the Mount. Edinburgh: T. & T.\n Clark. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nThese two volumes continue the series of patristic translations edited\nso carefully and published in such splendid style by the firm of Clark,\nat Edinburgh. The publication and perusal of long and entire works of\nthe fathers, especially S. Augustine, must have a most happy effect\nin promoting the cause of the Catholic faith. We notice with especial\npleasure the volume on the Trinity. This is one of the greatest works\nof S. Augustine. His argument is wonderfully exhaustive and conclusive,\nwonderfully sublime and devout, wonderfully rich in the exposition of\nHoly Scripture. It is also very plain and intelligible to a patient\nand attentive reader when the peculiar difficulties of the Latin style\nhave been overcome. In this translation, the structure and meaning of\nthe sentences and phrases are made very plain, and one reads with a\npleasure and facility much enhanced by the clearness and beauty of the\npage. We recommend this translation to all who wish for a very valuable\nhelp to the rendering of S. Augustine in the original, as well as to\nthose who desire to become acquainted with his doctrine, and can only\ndo so through the medium of their own language.\n\n A LIFE OF S. WALBURGE; WITH THE ITINERARY OF S. WILLIBALD. By\n the Rev. Thomas Meyrick, S.J. London: Burns & Oates. 1873. (New York:\n Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nAll who love the medi\u00e6val saints, and particularly those of once\nCatholic England, will find a delicious treat in this simple story.\nBesides the life and death of S. Walburge, an account is given of\n\nthe miraculous oil that \u201cdistils from the coffer in which her relics\nare enclosed in her church of Eichstadt.\u201d Cures are wrought by this\noil to-day. We happen to know personally of one\u2014the instant and final\ncure of a case of S. Vitus\u2019 dance by a drop of the oil received on the\npatient\u2019s tongue, after a novena and communion in the saint\u2019s honor.\n\nThe \u201cJourney of S. Willibald to the Holy Land,\u201d which forms the second\nhalf of the little volume, was written at Heidenheim about the year\n760. \u201cIt is interesting,\u201d says F. Meyrick, \u201cas confirming, by the\ntestimony of an eye-witness a thousand years since, the Catholic\ntraditions of some disputed localities, and as a specimen of a nun\u2019s\ncomposition in the VIIIth century.\u201d\n\n THE QUESTION OF ANGLICAN ORDINATIONS DISCUSSED. By E. E.\n Estcourt, M.A., F.S.A., Canon of S. Chad\u2019s Cathedral, Birmingham. With\n an Appendix of Original Documents and Fac-similes. London: Burns &\n Oates. 1873. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nA controversial work written in a calm and mild tone is sure to claim\nattention and wise confidence, especially if that work deals with a\ndifficult question, and one involved in much obscurity and uncertainty.\nSuch is the style of the work before us, and such is the character of\nthe question the Rev. Canon Estcourt treats\u2014Anglican Ordinations.\n\nThis is truly a masterly work, and the author exhibits throughout that\nmodesty which is the mark of a true scholar. But he does not condescend\nto his antagonist; he is fully aware that he is at warfare, but at\nwarfare _pro causa veritatis_. He is a brave warrior, and wields a\nheavy weapon; he studies his foe well before he strikes, but, when he\nstrikes, he strikes in a vital part.\n\nWe do not mean to say that he has finished the much-discussed\nquestion of Anglican ordinations, or that Anglicans will hereafter\nhave nothing to say. They will always have something to say so long\nas the Establishment lasts. But we believe there are a large number\nof Anglicans who are serious and in earnest, and who conscientiously\nbelieve they have a priesthood, and it is among them we hope to see\nthis book produce some practical result.\n\nThe present work starts out in the introduction with a \u201cstatement of\nthe question\u201d it is about to treat of, in which the author says he\ndoes not claim to bring forth much in the way of new facts or new\nprinciples, but aims rather at a more careful application of principles\nalready laid down, and to show the real influence of the facts alleged\nby Anglicans (as, for instance, the consecration of Parker), even if\ntrue. It then states the Catholic doctrine on the question of holy\norders, and finally lays down the principles of evidence to be followed\nin the investigation of historical facts.\n\nThe author commences with the \u201cOrigin of the Controversy,\u201d in which,\nafter showing how the seeds of heresy were first planted by Wyckliffe,\nand spread by the Lollards, and that the heresies on the Continent\nand in England were all one and the same growth\u2014which Anglicans have\nso strenuously tried to deny\u2014he exhibits the manner in which the\nAnglican rite was compiled, and shows that the form of ordination in\nthe Edwardine ordinal was not primitive, but a compilation from the\nritual of the Roman Church of the middle ages, there being nothing in\nit earlier than the IXth century, and most from the XIIIth and XIVth.\n\nHe then treats of the validity of the orders given in the new form, as\ntested by Queen Mary\u2019s reign and the acts of Cardinal Pole, and shows\nby a number of cases, and a careful analysis of the different classes\nthe Cardinal Legate had to deal with, that both \u201cthe Papal brief and\nthe cardinal\u2019s acts furnish the clearest possible evidence that the\nHoly See regarded the Edwardine ordinations as utterly worthless\u201d (p.\n40), and therefore that the Anglican claim of Catholics admitting these\nordinations as valid is a false one.\n\nThe second, third, and fourth chapters are devoted to the \u201cHistory of\nthe Controversy.\u201d\n\nFirst, the mere matter of fact, with regard to those much-contested\nconsecrations, is discussed. As to Barlow, the author, while giving\nthe Anglicans the full benefit of all their documents and proofs of\nthis poor man so involved in mist, shows that his consecration at least\ncannot be proved.\n\nThe author very justly concludes respecting Barlow that while we cannot\ncome to any positive decision, yet, \u201cwith so many circumstances of\nsuspicion arising from different quarters, yet pointing the same way,\nit is impossible to admit the fact of his consecration without more\ndirect proof of it\u201d (p. 81).\n\nParker\u2019s case is next taken up. Of course, the author discards the\nNag\u2019s Head story; and with regard to the mere fact of Parker\u2019s\nconsecration having taken place, he acknowledges it must be admitted.\nBut he shows that such a consecration, from the grave doubts whether\nBarlow was ever consecrated, and the manner in which ordinations of the\nBook of Common Prayer of 1552 were treated, was utterly worthless.\n\nAfter giving the testimony of contemporary Catholics in the matter of\nParker\u2019s consecration, he says: \u201cBut taking them all together, it must\nbe granted that they admit the fact of the consecration having taken\nplace as alleged, but it is also evident that they imply some serious\ndifficulty respecting it, and apparently touching the persons acting\ntherein; and, further, that this difficulty extended so far as not\nmerely to render the consecration uncanonical, unlawful, and irregular,\nbut also to affect its validity\u201d (p. 126).\n\nThen having shown the practice of the church with those who returned to\nthe true faith, he gives a list of the Anglican ministers who became\nreconciled to the Catholic Church down to the year 1704, and thus\nanswers by facts the claim set up by Dr. Lee, founded on the alleged\nrefusal of twelve converts to be reordained because they claimed to be\ntrue priests.\n\nNext follows a short review of the controversy as carried on so far by\nboth Anglicans and Catholics, after which commences what we consider as\nreally the most important part of the book; for the rest of the work\ndeals entirely with the _validity_ of Anglican ordinations.\n\nThis second half of the work we look upon as instituting a new era\nin the controversy. Heretofore, writers have occupied themselves\nprincipally with trying to disprove the facts with regard to the\nAnglican consecrations, and have done very little to prove the\ninvalidity of such consecrations, even if they took place. Canon\nEstcourt has entered into this very thoroughly, and made it clear.\n\nHe commences by an examination of the most ancient forms of ordination,\nand coming down through the various rites, and giving the teaching of\nthe fathers, shows what the matter and form of ordination most probably\nconsists in. Having established this, he gives the practice of the\nchurch in her official decisions in two important cases.\n\nThe author has devoted a chapter to the refutation of the story of Pius\nIV. and Queen Elizabeth, which is the Anglican Nag\u2019s Head, and which we\nsuppose is at least well to have repeated, as there may be some on whom\nthis worn-out fable would still have an influence.\n\nIn the concluding chapters, the argument is summed up, and \u201cthe\ninevitable conclusion follows that Anglican ordinations must be\nconsidered as altogether invalid, and that there is neither bishop,\npriest, nor deacon in the Anglican communion. And the reasons for this\nconclusion may be stated in a summary way as follows:\n\n\u201c1. Because from the year 1554 it has been the unvarying practice of\nthe Catholic Church so to consider and treat them.\n\n\u201c2. Because there are grave doubts whether Barlow, the consecrator of\nParker, had ever himself received episcopal consecration; and, in fact,\nthe probabilities of the case incline more strongly against than in\nfavor of it.\n\n\u201c3. Because the Anglican forms of ordination have been altered from the\nancient forms, both by way of mutilation and addition, in such a manner\nas to exclude, on the part of those participating in the acts enjoined,\nany intention of conferring or receiving a sacrament, or sacramental\ngrace, or a spiritual character, or any sacerdotal or episcopal power.\n\n\u201c4. Because the same forms have been also altered purposely, with the\nview of excluding the idea of the priest at his ordination receiving\npower to offer sacrifice.\n\n\u201c5. Because Anglican bishops and priests, at the time of ordination,\njoin in a profession contrary to the Catholic faith in the holy\nsacrifice, thus assuming on themselves, by their own act, the spirit\nand erroneous intentions with which the alterations were made.\n\n\u201c6. Because the meaning here attributed to the Anglican forms\nreceives confirmation from the fact of its being doubtful whether\nthe word \u2018priest\u2019 in the Anglican forms of ordination means a priest\nin the sense of the Catholic Church; that is to say, _sacerdos_, \u2018a\nsacrificing priest.\u2019\n\n\u201c7. Because the meaning of the same forms is further illustrated from\nthe \u2018Order of Administration of Holy Communion\u2019 in the Book of Common\nPrayer,\n\nwhich is found to be contrary to the Catholic faith in the doctrines of\nthe holy sacrifice of the Eucharist and the Real Presence\u201d (pp. 373-4).\n\nLet us leave the author\u2019s last words for those who are serious and in\nearnest, to meditate upon:\n\n\u201cWhat, then, Anglicans have to consider, the questions they have to\nask themselves, are these: What do they really believe about the grace\nof holy orders, and even about the grace of the sacraments in general?\nand next, What are the conditions on which that grace is ordinarily\ngiven? And then to look whether those conditions are fulfilled within\nthe Anglican communion. If they would seriously, as in the sight of\nGod, consider these points, we might hope to attain to truth, which is\nbefore all things, and after truth to see peace following in her train,\nand union, not based on vague terms and unharmonious professions, but\nin \u2018one body and one spirit, as called in one hope of our vocation, one\nLord, one faith one baptism\u2019\u201d (p. 379).\n\n\n LECTURES ON CERTAIN PORTIONS OF THE EARLIER OLD TESTAMENT\n HISTORY. By Philip G. Munro, Priest of the Diocese of Nottingham,\n and Domestic Chaplain to the Earl of Gainsborough. Vol. I. London:\n Burns & Oates. 1873. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication\n Society.)\n\nThis being but the first volume of a most valuable work, we shall wait\nfor the whole to be completed before writing a lengthy notice. We will\nonly say at present that the solidity of scholarship which the work\ndisplays, together with its entertaining style, make it a long-desired\naid to the study of the Holy Scriptures on the part of our educated\nlaity.\n\nWhat we have been most struck with in the present volume is the\nsimple yet masterly proof of a visible church\u2014_i.e._ a teaching\nauthority\u2014having always existed from the time of Adam; as also of the\ncoeval use of place and ritual for the worship of God.\n\n THE PROPHET OF CARMEL. By the Rev. Chas. Garside. London:\n Burns & Oates. 1873. (New York: Sold by The Catholic Publication\n Society.)\n\nThis is a peculiar work, hardly classifiable under any conventional\nhead in religious literature. It has the charm of refined and\nelegant diction, joined to the weightier recommendation of practical\nusefulness. It is a history of the prophet Elias, following the\nstartling yet meagre facts of his life as revealed in the Old\nTestament, and drawing from them analogies wonderfully suited to our\nown times, lives, temptations, and hopes. It is not one of the least\nperfections of that incomparable Book, the Holy Scriptures, that\nit should apply with such marvellous truth to any time, person, or\ncircumstance; that it should offer as living a counsel, as efficacious\na comfort, as dread a warning to every individual man in his own\nobscure orbit of to-day as it did thousands of years ago to exalted\npersonages in unwonted trials. It is not only the political history\nof one people; it is the history of the human soul at all times\nand in all places. Thus, the author has drawn from the mysterious\nrecords of Elias\u2014who at first would seem but a colossal saint,\nutterly removed from any appreciation that would seek to go beyond\nadmiration\u2014parallels between human duties and human weaknesses under\nthe reign of Achab, and the same duties and weaknesses under the rulers\nof our day. There is something in this book of the alluring style of\nF. Faber\u2019s religious works, but without that floweriness of speech of\nwhich no one was a safe master but that prose-poet himself.\n\n THE VALIANT WOMAN. By Mgr. Landriot. Translated from the\n French by Helena Lyons. Boston: P. Donahoe. 1873.\n\nThis collection of discourses, addressed to women on the duties of\ntheir daily life by the former Bishop of La Rochelle, now Archbishop of\nRheims, is a most valuable work, and contains an epitome of everything\nwoman should do, know, and teach. There can hardly be too much of the\nsame tenor written on this subject, and all that is written should be\nsown broadcast over Christendom by the best translations. That before\nour notice seems a very terse one, faithful but not slavish. Indeed, a\ntranslator often has it in his power to mar the whole effect of a most\nimportant work by dressing it in such unmistakably foreign garb that it\nbecomes unacceptable to the peculiar mind of this or that nationality.\nMgr. Landriot\u2019s discourses, though addressed to French women and to\n_provinciales_, are couched in such broad terms, and inspired\n\nby so comprehensive a spirit, that they are equally applicable to women\nof all nations, whether in populous cities or retired country towns.\nThe conditions of all classes are also so delicately brought within\nthe circle of his consideration that even poor and obscure women may\nfind in them as effectual guidance as the wife of a cabinet minister\nor of a financial magnate. True Christianity alone can inspire true\ncosmopolitanism, and that without violating patriotism. The spirit\nof petty localism, or, in fact, of any narrow-mindedness on any\nsubject, is foreign to the wise prelate\u2019s mind, and nowhere defaces\nhis writings; yet, at the same time, he knows how to make skilful use\nof his surroundings, and take illustrations from objects constantly\nbefore the eyes of his immediate hearers. In the fourth discourse he\nexpounds the text of Proverbs, \u201cShe is like the merchant\u2019s ship, she\nbringeth her bread from afar\u201d (xxxi. 14); and speaking as the bishop\nof a seaport town to a community whose interests were probably in many\ncases connected with the sea, he draws the most original comparisons\nbetween an ideal woman and a perfect ship. Masts, helm, rigging,\ncargo, ballast, compass, chart, crew, etc., nothing is forgotten, and\nevery detail tallies with some spiritual attribute of the life of a\nholy and \u201cvaliant\u201d woman. In another place he compares woman to a\nbridge, the support and link of many souls, and makes the bold simile\nvery plausible by his well-chosen remarks on the united flexibility\nand strength required in woman\u2019s character. There is not a point of\ndomestic life which he does not touch upon fearlessly, not a duty he\ndoes not point out minutely. Sins of sloth, of vanity, of imprudent\nspeech, of undue susceptibility, are all unmasked; the relations\nbetween woman and those who come in contact with her as wife, mother,\nmistress, or friend are all accurately sketched; her pursuits are\nregulated, but with no intolerant hand; her sphere mapped out, but with\nno niggardly restrictions. Country life and occupation are commended\nas healthful for the body, and leading to peace of mind and soul; good\nsayings, tersely expressed, are scattered here and there; as, for\ninstance: \u201cVirtue and vice are distinguished by the quantity of the\ndose; put the right quantity, and you have a virtue; take away that\nquantity, or exceed it, and you have a vice.\u201d There is in the whole\nwork a tone of moderation singularly adapted to the needs of the day, a\nshrinking from exaggeration in any form, and a hesitancy in condemning\nanything the excess of which only can be styled a sin. The lecturer\nleans for these moderate views on the writings of S. Francis of Sales,\nthat rare director of virtuous women in the world. One very beautiful\nidea, with which we do not remember ever to have met before in any\nshape, is that of the \u201cdivine magnetism\u201d exercised by Providence, and\nwhich turns the bitterest draught of human woe into a delicious nectar\nfor those who trust in God, while \u201cthe cup of earthly happiness\u201d held\nto the lips of the \u201cspoiled child of fortune ... has infused therein a\npoison to disturb and agitate the inmost depths of his being.\u201d\n\nThe picture of the valiant woman of the Proverbs is thus brought before\nthe eyes of women of the XIXth century, not as something magnificently\ninimitable, as personated by a Judith, a Jael, or an Esther, but as\na perfectly attainable state, as exemplified by S. Monica, S. Paula,\nS. Elizabeth of Hungary. Neither the heroic, the learned, nor the\ncommercial side of life is shut out from them, although the domestic is\nspecially inculcated; and in Mgr. Landriot woman will find a meeter and\nmore dignified champion than in the prophetesses of \u201cwoman\u2019s rights.\u201d\nOur only regret is that such \u201cvaliant\u201d and perfect women should be so\nrare among us. A few such Christian matrons would revolutionize their\nsex.\n\n RUPERT AUBREY, OF AUBREY CHASE. By the Rev. Thos. Potter.\n Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1873.\n\nThis a short historical tale of the latter end of the XVIIth century,\nand is put together from various records of known details of the Titus\nOates plot. It was quite another phase of religious persecution from\nthat prevalent a hundred years before under Queen Elizabeth, and Titus\nOates, in his hypocrisy and meanness, forms a contrast to the more\nopen though not less cruel inquisitors of Tudor days. The incidents\nof the story are, as facts, quite imaginary, though fashioned in\naccordance with probability and the known incidents of similar _real_\nvicissitudes; the style is very clear and agreeable, and the personages\nattractive in character, especially the old soldier and royalist, Sir\nAubrey Aubrey. The details of the martyrdom of the saintly Archbishop\nof Armagh, Oliver Plunket, are beautifully woven in with the lesser but\nhardly less touching sorrows of the young Rupert, the hero of the tale.\nThe end is bright and hopeful, unlike many of those solemn tragedies in\ndays of old, but just such as is fitted to encourage the minds of our\nday. There is in the beginning of the book a very pleasant description\nof an old English village of Yorkshire, and a hint to travellers who,\nin frantic pursuit of distant pleasure, are whirled past such sylvan\nretreats on their way to fashionable places of \u201crepose.\u201d\n\n A TREATISE ON THE PARTICULAR EXAMEN OF CONSCIENCE, ACCORDING TO\n THE METHOD OF S. IGNATIUS. By F. Luis de la Palma, S.J. With a\n Preface by F. George Porter, S.J. London: Burns & Oates. 1873. (New\n York: Sold by The Catholic Publication Society.)\n\nIt would be almost equal to the attempt \u201cto gild refined gold\u201d to speak\napprovingly of a work gotten up under the auspices and derived from the\nsources above indicated.\n\nThe Jesuits have always been accorded a practical eminence as\nfather-confessors; and one who is familiar with the _Spiritual\nExercises_ of S. Ignatius and the _History of the Sacred Passion_ of F.\nde la Palma will not doubt that he is, indeed, among the masters of the\nspiritual life while listening to the counsels contained in the present\nwork.\n\n SKETCHES OF IRISH SOLDIERS IN EVERY LAND. By Col. James E.\n McGee. New York: James A. McGee. 1873.\n\nThe half-historic, half-conversational style in which these sketches\nare written makes good display of the author\u2019s undoubted powers; and\nthis, too, in spite of some carelessness. With the exception of the\nunfortunate mention made of the share which Irish gentlemen took in\nthe practice of duelling, the book is excellent reading. The subject\nis one invested with a sad charm for all who, by blood, or religion,\nor love of valor, can sympathize with a cruelly oppressed yet warlike\nand adventurous people. The author gives us only a small fragment of\nthe history of Irish military exploits\u2014\u201csome flowers,\u201d as the preface\nsays, \u201cculled from the immortal garlands with which modern history has\nenwreathed the brow of Irish valor.\u201d Yet it suffices to produce a vivid\nimpression of how Irishmen have done honor to their own race, and given\ngenerous and valuable service to the military enterprises of nearly\nevery civilized nation. We hope that as good a pen and as appreciative\na mind will some day give a complete history of the Irishmen who\nfigured conspicuously in our late war. The author, indeed, dedicates\nhis book to the memory of his countrymen \u201cwho fought and fell\u201d in that\ngreat struggle, and refers specially to some few of them, while turning\nover to the future historian the task of doing them all full justice.\n\n MEDITATIONS ON THE MOST BLESSED VIRGIN. By Most Hon. Brother\n Philippe, Superior General of the Brothers of the Christian Schools.\n Translated from the French. Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1874.\n\nThis substantial volume bears the _imprimatur_ of His Grace\nthe Archbishop of Baltimore. And the other approbation, by the\nVicar-General of the Right Rev. Bishop of Versailles, says that the\nwriter is officially assured that the work \u201cwill prove a new and most\nprecious fountain from which pious souls may be abundantly supplied\nwith the healing waters of devotion to the Mother of God.\u201d From what\nwe have had time to see of the book, we also are convinced that it is\na most solid and valuable addition to the best manuals of a devotion\nwhich can never be exhausted, but, on the contrary, is destined to\nincrease till He who first came into the world by Mary shall in some\nsense come again by her.\n\nWe therefore welcome this volume very gratefully, and recommend it to\nour Catholic readers.\n\n\nANNOUNCEMENTS.\u2014The Catholic Publication Society has in press,\nand will publish this fall, _The Life of the Most Rev. M. J. Spalding,\nD.D._, Archbishop of Baltimore, by Rev. J. L. Spalding, S.T.L. It will\nmake a large 8vo volume of over 500 pages, and will be brought out in\ngood style. Also in press, _The Life and Doctrine of S. Catharine of\nGenoa_; _The Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac for 1874_; and _Good\nThings_, a compilation from the _Almanac_ for the last five years,\nmaking a handsomely illustrated presentation volume.\n\n\n\n\n                              FOOTNOTES:\n\n[1] 1 Cor. xiii. 1-3.\n\n[2] We had intended to give a brief outline of what the church has\ndone from time to time for the various forms of human want, but found\nwe could not do so in the present article without departing from the\ndiversified character essential to a magazine. Such a sketch of the\nefforts made by the church, during her long history, to alleviate\nphysical suffering, and for the moral elevation of the race, would\nalmost be a history of the church itself, inasmuch as the poor have\nalways been her heritage, in accordance with our Lord\u2019s words. To the\nCatholic reader this would have been unnecessary; and if this reference\nserves the purpose of inducing the candid non-Catholic to look into the\nrecord, a desirable end will have been accomplished.\n\n[3] _Constitution of U. S._, Art. 1, of Amendments.\n\n[4] _Kent_, ii. 24.\n\n[5] _Story on the Constitution_, ii. 661.\n\n[6] _Report of Special Committee_, p. 17.\n\n[7] _Monthly Record_, p. 285.\n\n[8] _Catholic Review_, January 11, 1873.\n\n[9] _Twelfth Annual Report_, p. 12.\n\n[10] See _Half a Century with Juvenile Delinquents_. By the Chaplain of\nthe House of Refuge, Rev Mr. Pierce.\n\n[11] _Nineteenth Annual Report_, p. 12.\n\n[12] _Blackstone\u2019s Com._, part. i, p. 137.\n\n[13] _Sunday Mercury_, June 23, 1872.\n\n[14] _Investigation into the Management of the Providence Reform\nSchool_, made by the Board of Aldermen, under the direction of the City\nCouncil of the City of Providence, 1869.\n\n[15]\n\n  \u201c_Indico legno, lucido e sereno_:\u201d\n\nWhatever kind of richly tinted wood is referred to in this passage,\n_lucid_ and _serene_ do not seem very descriptive epithets, applied\nto wood, and it is not much after the manner of Dante to qualify any\nobject with two vague adjectives. As he is presenting an assemblage of\nthe most beautiful and striking colors, and since we do not imagine\n(as Mr. Ruskin suggests) that by \u201cIndico legno\u201d he could have meant\n_indigo_, it seems most natural that he should have mentioned _blue_.\nWe have therefore ventured to translate as if the verse were written,\n\u201cIndico legno, lucido sereno.\u201d In a preceding Canto (V.) the poet has\nused _sereno_ in the same way, without the article\u2014\u201c_fender sereno_\u201d\nalso in Canto XXIX., v. 53:\n\n  \u201cPi\u00f9 chiaro assai che Luna per sereno.\u201d\n\n\u2014_Trans._\n\n[16] A name given in derision to the German nation.\n\n[17] One of the martyrs omitted by Foxe.\n\n[18] _The Fuller Worthies\u2019 Library._ The Complete Poems of Robert\nSouthwell, S.J., for the first time fully collected, and collated\nwith the original and early editions and MSS., and enlarged with\nhitherto unprinted and inedited poems from MSS. at Stonyhurst College,\nLancashire. Edited, with Memorial Introduction and Notes, by the Rev.\nAlexander H. Grosart, St. George\u2019s, Blackburn, Lancashire. London:\nPrinted for private circulation (156 copies only). 1872.\n\n[19] Turnbull, p. xvi.\n\n[20] _The Condition of Catholics under James I._ Father Gerard\u2019s\nnarrative. London. 1872.\n\n[21] So printed in Strype.\n\n[22] Topcliffe here describes what he facetiously likens to a\nTremshemarn trick with great delicacy. It was, in fact, a piece of\nhorrible torture, by which the prisoner was hung up for whole days by\nthe hands so that he could just touch the ground with the tips of his\ntoes.\n\n[23] See _Annals of the Reformation_, Strype, Oxford, 1824 ed., vol.\nvii. p. 185. If the reader has any curiosity to see more remarkable\nproof of the infamy of this man, Topcliffe, he may peruse another\nletter in Strype, vol. vii. p. 53.\n\n[24] He was afterwards condemned and executed as a traitor.\n\n[25] For this and many other cases see, _Martyrs Omitted by Foxe_.\nLondon. 1872. Compiled by a member of the English Church. With a\npreface by the Rev. Frederick George Lee, D.C.L., F.S.A., Vicar of All\nSaints\u2019, Lambeth.\n\n[26] _Retrospective Review_, vol. iv., 1821, p. 270.\n\n[27] _Specimens of the Early English Poets_, first edition, vol. ii. p.\n166.\n\n[28] Vol. i. p. 644, fourth edition.\n\n[29] _Notes of Ben Jonson\u2019s Conversations with William Drummond of\nHawthornden_, p. 13.\n\n[30] Here are seven of its seventeen stanzas:\n\n  Enough, I reckon wealth;\n    A mean the surest lot,\n  That lies too high for base contempt,\n    Too low for envy\u2019s shot.\n\n  My wishes are but few,\n    All easy to fulfil,\n  I make the limits of my power\n    The bounds unto my will.\n\n  I feel no care of coyne,\n    Well-doing is my wealth;\n  My mind to me an empire is,\n    While grace affordeth health.\n\n  I clip high-climbing thoughts,\n    The wings of swelling pride;\n  Their fall is worst, that from the height\n    Of greatest honors slide.\n\n  Spare diet is my fare,\n    My clothes more fit than fine;\n  I know I feed and clothe a foe\n    That, pampered, would repine.\n\n  To rise by others\u2019 fall\n    I deem a losing gain;\n  All states with others\u2019 ruins built,\n    To ruin run amain.\n\n  No change of Fortune\u2019s calms\n    Can cast my comforts down;\n  When Fortune smiles, I smile to think\n    How quickly she will frown.\n\n\n[31] This was a German Reformer who died in 1551. His name was Kuhhorn\n(Cowshorn), but, after the fashion of that day, he Greekified it into\n_Bous_ (ox) and _Keras_ (horn): the same as Melanchthon, another German\nReformer, changed his name from Schwarzed (black earth).\n\n[32] Abbots were then, as Bishops are now, Members of the House of\nLords.\n\n[33] Some of these \u201cfoundations\u201d were made up with Secular Priests, who\nhad pensions to say Masses for the souls of the founders.\n\n[34] \u201cPremunire\u201d is a punishment inflicted by Statute, and consists\nof the offender\u2019s being out of the Queen\u2019s protection, forfeiting his\nlands and goods, and imprisoned during the pleasure of the Monarch.\n\n[35] \u201cThat which is most divine in the heart of man never finds\nutterance for want of words to express it. The soul is infinite [this\nis saying too much: it is one thing to be infinite, and another to\nhave a sense of the infinite], and language consists only of a limited\nnumber of signs perfected by use as a means of communication among the\nvulgar.\u201d\u2014Lamartine, _Preface des Premi\u00e8res Meditations_.\n\n[36] As we are not without experience in the management of children, we\ncannot agree with our contributor in the proposed banishment of the rod\nfrom the nursery, however much we may prefer moral suasion when found\neffectual.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n[37] Canadian snow-shoes.\n\n[38] Breviary.\n\n[39] The _ex-voto_ spoken of in the beginning of our story represents\nthis scene.\n\n[40] Cap worn by the peasantry.\n\n[41] Luke xvi. 9.\n\n[42] \u201cA great politician is dead!\u201d\n\n[43] \u201cThis will be a dangerous spirit.\u201d\n\n[44] _Land of the Veda._ By Rev. Dr. Butler.\n\n[45] _Papers relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States_,\ntransmitted to Congress with the Annual Message of the President,\nDecember 4, 1871.\n\n[46] _British Blue-Book._ China, No. 3, 1871.\n\n[47] _Evolution of Life._ By Henry C. Chapman, M.D. Philadelphia: J. B.\nLippincott & Co. 1873.\n\n[48] See _Dublin Review_, July, 1871.\n\n[49] Hugonis Floriacensis _de Regia Potestate_ lib. i. 4 ap. Baluze\n_Miscell._ ii.\n\n[50] Petr. Blesens, _Epist._ lxxxvi.\n\n[51] _S. Francis de Sales_, Bishop and Prince of Geneva. Rivingtons:\nLondon, Oxford, and Cambridge.\n\n[52] \u201cDrink water out of thy own cistern, and the streams of thy own\nwell; let thy fountains be conveyed abroad, and in the streets divide\nthy waters.\u201d\u2014_Proverbs_ v. 15,16.\n\n[53] The title of his bishopric, by which Francis de Sales was then\ngenerally known in Paris.\n\n[54] \u201c_J\u2019ai ajout\u00e9 beaucoup de petites chosettes_,\u201d he said. \u201c_Petites\nchosettes_\u201d is almost untranslatable in its deprecating modesty.\n\n[55] In 1656, forty editions had already appeared.\n\n[56] \u201cIl met force sucre et force miel au bord du vase.\u201d\n\n[57] See _Dictionnaire de l\u2019Acad\u00e9mie Fran\u00e7aise. Pr\u00e9face de M.\nVillemain_. He says: \u201cEn 1637, l\u2019Acad\u00e9mie avait discut\u00e9 longtemps sur\nla m\u00e9thode \u00e0 suivre pour dresser un Dictionnaire qui f\u00fbt comme le\ntr\u00e9sor et le magasin des termes simples et des phrases re\u00e7ues. Puis,\nelle s\u2019\u00e9tait occup\u00e9e du choix des auteurs qui avaient \u00e9crit le plus\npurement notre langue, et dont les passages seraient ins\u00e9r\u00e9s dans le\nDictionnaire. C\u2019\u00e9taient pour la prose\u201d\u2014and he then gives a list of\nauthors, as above indicated.\n\n[58] A translator\u2014a traitor.\n\n[59] Pallavicini, _History of the Council of Trent_, b. vi. ch. xi. No.\n4.\n\n[60] See Renan\u2019s _Vie de J\u00e9sus_, Introduction; also, Albert R\u00e9ville,\n_Revue des Deux Mondes_, for May and June, 1866.\n\n[61] Pallavicini, _History of the Council of Trent_, b. vi. ch. xi.\nLeplat, _Monum. Conc. Trid._, vol. iii. p. 386 _et seq._\n\n[62] M. de Pressens\u00e9 means the _deutero-canonical_ books of the Old\nTestament. _Deutero-canonical_ and _apocryphal_ are by no means\nsynonymous. The authenticity of the deutero-canonical books has been\ndemonstrated sufficiently often within three centuries to prevent\na writer, with any respect for himself, from alluding to them as\napocryphal.\n\n[63] We wish M. de Pressens\u00e9 would be kind enough to inform us what\nFathers of the IId and IIId centuries have questioned the origin of\nthe Gospel according to S. Matthew. We are well aware that French\nrationalists have borrowed the German idea of a primitive Gospel,\nwhich, perhaps, served as a basis for the other abridgments. The\npromoters of this system are Eichorn, Eckermann, Gieseler, Credner,\nand Ewald, in Germany; in France, Messrs. R\u00e9ville and Renan have lent\nto it the support of their names. They have endeavored to support it\nby one or two words of Papias, which by no means prove so strange an\nassertion. Where are the Fathers of the IId and IIId centuries who\nhad any doubt as to the authenticity of the first Gospel? As to the\nEpistle to the Hebrews, we wish M. de Pressens\u00e9 would read a few pages\non this question by the Rev. P\u00e8re Franzelin, in his able treatise, _De\nTraditione et Scriptura_. He would see how little doubt the Fathers of\nthe first ages had respecting this epistle. Some, on account of the\nabsence of S. Paul\u2019s name, and the difference of style, have doubted it\nwas by the doctor of nations, but all the Fathers, unless we except two\nor three of the least known, invariably asserted its canonicity. For it\nis one thing to doubt whether S. Paul was the author of this epistle\nand another that it is of the number of inspired books.\n\n[64] _Histoire du Concile du Vatican_, p. 283.\n\n[65] Pressens\u00e9, _Histoire du Concile du Vatican_, ch. xi.\n\n[66] _Hist. Revelat. Bibl._, Auct. D. Haneberg, p. 774.\n\n[67] Sess. XIV. _De Extr. Unct._, c. i. can. i.\n\n[68] _D\u00e9fense de la Tradition des SS. P\u00e8res.\u2014Instruction sur la Version\nde Tr\u00e9voux._\n\n[69] _Myths and Myth-Makers_: Old Tales and Superstitions Interpreted\nby Comparative Mythology. By John Fiske, M.A., LL.B., Assistant\nLibrarian and Late Lecturer on Philosophy at Harvard University.\n\n[70] Page 122.\n\n[71] Tob. ii. 19.\n\n[72] Eccl. xvii. 5.\n\n[73] Ibid. xxvi. 3, 16.\n\n[74] Prov. xix. 15.\n\n[75] Levit. xxv. 39, 40, 53.\n\n[76] Numb. xxx. 10.\n\n[77] Deut. xv. 12-14.\n\n[78] Acts. xvi. 14, 15.\n\n[79] Ibid. xvi. 40.\n\n[80] Rom. xvi. 1, 2.\n\n[81] Judith viii. 7.\n\n[82] Prov. xxxi. 10-31.\n\n[83] \u201cYoung Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim.\u201d\u2014Modern editions of\n_Romeo and Juliet_.\n\n[84] White\u2019s _Shakespeare\u2019s Scholar_, 371, 372.\n\n[85] See note 2, as to \u201cAbraham-men,\u201d in _King Lear_, Singer\u2019s Edition,\nact ii. sc. iii.\n\n[86] _Satires_, b. iii. sat. 5.\n\n[87] Perusing, while this article is in the press, Thackeray\u2019s\ningenious story of _Catherine_, we observe that he describes one of his\ncharacters (in the year 1705) as wearing \u201can enormous full-bottomed\nperiwig that cost him sixty pounds.\u201d\n\n[88] Cook\u2019s _Voyages_, vi. 61.\n\n[89] Browne\u2019s _British Pastorals_, b i. s. v.\n\n[90] _Hamlet_ (song), act iv. sc. v.\n\n[91] Fawkes, _Apollonius Rhodius_. The Argonautics, b. iii.\n\n[92] Sir M. Sandys\u2019 _Essays_ (1634), p 16.\n\n[93] Anthon\u2019s _Classical Dictionary_.\n\n[94] Keightley\u2019s _Mythology_, 112.\n\n[95] _Redgauntlet_, i., pp. 219, 220. Ticknor & Co.\u2019s edition.\n\n[96] _Spectator_, 129.\n\n[97] Notes to _Dunciad_, b. i. p. 260. British Poets, Little & Brown\u2019s\ned.\n\n[98] \u201cThe Fair One with the Golden Locks\u201d was a Christmas\npiece produced on the stage in London, in 1843. See Planch\u00e9\u2019s\n_Recollections_, etc., ii. 67.\n\n[99] In Thackeray\u2019s _Catherine_, already quoted, a character appears\nwith \u201ca little shabby beaver cocked over a large _tow-periwig_.\u201d Still\nfurther on he tells us that one of his principal personages \u201cmounted a\nlarge chestnut-colored orange-scented pyramid of horse-hair.\u201d Indeed,\nwe have reason to believe that the judges and the bar in England still\nwear wigs manufactured out of the latter article.\n\n[100] To show, by a further instance, the employment of another article\nthan hair for the manufacture in question some time ago. Thackeray, in\nhis _Book of Snobs_, chapter xxxiv., tells us of a London \u201ccoachman in\na tight _silk-floss_ wig.\u201d\n\n[101] 2 _Henry VI._, iv. 8.\n\n[102] A sum estimated at about seven million francs of modern money.\n\n[103] Fearless and stainless.\n\n[104] Gilt door.\n\n[105] \u201cA guarded prisoner is not bound by any oath, nor can he be held\nto any vow made under compulsion.\u201d\n\n[106] For the preceding articles of this series, the reader is referred\nto THE CATHOLIC WORLD for December, 1868, and June, 1870.\n\n[107] See _Myvyrian_, vol. i. p. 150.\n\n[108] _Trioed inis Prydain_, vol. iii. s. 1.\n\n[109] _Myvyrian._\n\n[110] _De Schismate Donatistarum_, lib. iii. c. 2.\n\n[111] _De Civ. Dei_, lib. xviii. c. 23.\n\n[112] \u201cWe read everywhere that this world is a sea.\u201d\n\n[113] Gal. iii.; John xv. 16.\n\n[114] Minucius Felix, _Octav._, c. 9.; Justin, _Dialogicum Tryph._, c.\n10; Athenagoras, _Legatio_, c. 3. etc.\n\n[115] In ancient usage, the Holy Eucharist was put into the hands of\nthe Christians.\n\n[116] Maurus Wolter, _The Roman Catacombs, and the Sacraments of the\nCatholic Church_, p. 28.\n\n[117] Overbeck, _History of Greek Plastic Art_, ii. 29.\n\n[118] \u201cNihil pr\u00e6ter Catholicam fidem, et quidquid Sancta Romana\nEcclesia approbat, a me unquam prolatum est, cujus castigationi semper\nme subjeci, et quoties oportuerit iterum atque iterum me subjicio....\nManifeste apparebit, an ego h\u00e6resium, quod absit, an Catholic\u00e6\nveritatis sim disseminator.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo word of mine can be produced against Catholic faith or against\nwhatever is approved by the Catholic Church, to whose correction I have\nalways submitted, and, if need be, again and for ever submit myself....\nIt will be made manifest whether I have disseminated heresy\u2014far be it\nfrom me\u2014or Catholic truth.\u201d\n\n[119] _La Storia di Girolamo Savonarola e de\u2019 suoi Tempi, Narrata da\nPasquale Villari con l\u2019Aiuto di Nuovi Documenti. Firenze. 1859._\n\n[120] The original is very picturesque: \u201cA ci\u00f2 ch\u2019el diavolo non mi\nsalti sopra le spalle.\u201d\n\n[121] He ruled from 1469 to 1492.\n\n[122] \u201cEgli second\u00f2 il secolo in tutte le sue tendenze: di corrotto che\nera, lo fece corrottissimo.\u201d \u201cHe helped forward the period in all its\ntendencies,\u201d says Villari. \u201cFrom corrupt he made it most corrupt.\u201d\n\n[123] M. Perrens and Dean Milman both express some doubt as to this\nfact, but we prefer to follow Villari, whose explanation of the matter\nis satisfactory.\n\n[124] Here are his own words: \u201cE mi rammento come predicando nel\nDuomo l\u2019anno 1491, ed avendo gi\u00e0 composto il mio sermone sopra questi\nvisioni, deliberai di sopprimerle e nell\u2019avvenire astenerme affatto.\nIddio mi \u00e8 testimonio, che tutto il giorno di sabato e l\u2019intera notte\nsino alla nuove luce, io vegliai; ed ogni altra via, ogni dottrina\nfuori di quella, mi fu tolta. In sull\u2019alba, essendo per la lunga\nvigilia stanco ed abbattuto, udii, mentre io pregava, una voce che mi\ndisse: Stolto, non vedi che Iddio vuole che tu sequiti la medesima via?\nPerch\u00e8 io feci quel giorno una predica tremenda.\u201d\n\n[125] The original is, \u201cAvendo perduto ogni fiducia degli uomini,\u201d\nwhich the English Protestant translator (London, 1871) renders, \u201cHe had\nlost all confidence in the priests.\u201d\n\n[126] We have followed Villari in the account of this interview. M.\nPerrens questions its authenticity for several very good reasons.\nIf it was a confession, no one would know anything about it. But it\nis claimed by some that it was merely a consultation on a case of\nconscience, and that Politian was an _ocular_ though not an _auricular_\nwitness. If such an interview took place, we should be inclined to\nadmit Villari\u2019s account of it only on the latter hypothesis.\n\n[127] Master of the Hounds.\n\n[128] Pavilion of Stoves.\n\n[129] Comedian.\n\n[130] Tragedian.\n\n[131] 2 Thess. ii. 4.\n\n[132] Job. x. 22.\n\n[133] No. 360 of the journal _Il Precursore_, of Palermo, dared lately\nto apply to the Sovereign Pontiff Pius IX. the names sacristan-pontiff,\nblockhead, dullard, swindler, huckster, dotard, and other epithets\nso coarse that the pen refuses to transcribe them. But the Italian\nExchequer, notwithstanding the law which declares the Pope to be as\ninviolable as the king, found nothing to say against this foul sheet.\nAnd the government pretends that the so-called law of guarantees is\nscrupulously observed by it. We appeal to the common sense, not of\nChristians, but of persons simply not barbarians like the Hottentots.\n\n[134] Apoc. ii. 16.\n\n[135] \u201cSunt quatuor persecutiones principales: prima tyrannorum,\nsecunda h\u00e6reticorum, tertia falsorum Christianorum, quarta erit ex\nomnibus conflata, qu\u00e6 erit Antichristi et suorum complicium. Et h\u00e6\ndesignat\u00e6 sunt in quatuor bestiis quas vidit Daniel.\u201d\u2014_S. Bonav. in\ncap._ xvii. _Luc\u00e6._ Again, see _Ugone card. sup. Psal._ liv.\n\n[136] 2 Timothy iii. 1-4.\n\n[137] _Osservatore Romano_, Jan. 8, 1873.\n\n[138] Rev. John Henry Newman.\n\n[139] The opinions of the Abb\u00e9 Gaume are generally regarded by the most\ncompetent judges of matters pertaining to the higher Catholic education\nas exaggerated. We concur in this judgment, which is, moreover, in\naccordance with the instructions on this subject emanating from the\nHoly See. At the same time, we are strongly convinced that there is a\nvery considerable amount of truth in the criticisms of the Abb\u00e9 Gaume\non the actual method of education even in strictly Catholic colleges,\nand that it needs to be made more Christian.\u2014Ed. C. W.\n\n[140] It may well be doubted whether this was a real advantage.\u2014Ed. C.\nW.\n\n[141] _Hieronymus Savonarola und seine Zeit. Aus den Quellen\ndargestellt._ Von A. G. Rudelbach. Hamburg. 1835.\n\n[142] Girolamo Savonarola, aus gr\u00f6sstentheils Handschriftlichen Quelten\ndargestellt. Von Fr. Karl Meier. Berlin. 1836.\n\n[143] This passage certainly does not prove Savonarola to have been a\ngreat philosopher.\u2014Ed. C. W.\n\n[144] Translated in England more than two hundred years ago. _The Truth\nof the Christian Faith; or, The Triumph of the Cross of Christ._ By\nHier. Savonarola. Done into English out of the Author\u2019s own Italian\ncopy, etc. Cambridge John Field, Printer to the University. There is\nalso a modern translation by O\u2019Dell Travers Hill, F.R.G.S., a handsome\nedition. Hodder & Stoughton, London. 1868.\n\n[145] \u201cSeeing the whole world in confusion; every virtue and every\nnoble habit disappeared; no shining light; none ashamed of their vices.\u201d\n\n[146] A precisely similar vision is described by Christopher Columbus\nas having appeared to him in America when he was abandoned by all his\ncompanions. The letter in which he speaks of this vision is given by\nthe rationalist Libri in his _Histoire des Sciences Math\u00e9matiques_,\nand he justly describes it as one of the most eloquent in Italian\nliterature.\n\n[147] Cicero says: \u201cFuit jam a Platone accepta philosophandi ratio\ntriplex: una de vita et moribus; altera de natura et rebus occultis;\ntertia de disserendo, et quid verum, quid falsum, quid rectum in\noratione, pravumque, quid consentiens, quid repugnans, judicando\u201d\n(_Acad._ lib. i. 6). This division is still recognizable in our modern\nlogic, metaphysics, and ethics.\n\n[148] Ex. xviii. 25.\n\n[149] London _Times_, April 19.\n\n[150] London _Spectator_.\n\n[151] _Saturday Review._\n\n[152] London _Spectator_, April 26.\n\n[153] This sentence, we wish to have it distinctly understood, is one\nwhich we approve only in the sense that loyalty to the church takes\nprecedence of patriotism, but not that it is indifferent whether a man\nis a patriot or not, provided he be a good Catholic.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n[154] \u201cI sleep and my Heart watcheth.\u201d\n\n[155] \u201cI say, my Jesus, thou art _mad_ with love.\u201d\u2014_S. Mary Magdalen of\nPazzi._\n\n[156] See THE CATHOLIC WORLD, December, 1868.\n\n[157] _I.e._, _Ill-gotten gain never profits_. \u201cPol\u201d is a contemptuous\nname in Brittany for Satan, who is said to have horned hoofs shod with\nsilver, but he has always lost one of his shoes.\n\n[158] The head of Morvan, after the battle, was taken to the monk\nWitchar, who held on the Breton frontier an abbey, by permission of the\nFrankish king.\n\n[159] Lez-Breiz was slain A.D. 818. In seven years after that\ndate, Guionfarc\u2019h, another of his family, arose, as a second Lez-Breiz,\nto resist the encroachments of France, and maintain the independence of\nBrittany.\n\n[160] Ermold Nigel.\n\n[161] This mystical plant was only to be plucked by the hand: if cut\nwith any blade of steel, misfortune of some kind was always supposed to\nfollow.\n\n[162] Ablutions were anciently made before a repast at the sound of a\nhorn; thus \u201ckorna ann dour\u201d\u2014to horn the water.\n\n[163] The balls (six) in the arms of the Medici.\n\n[164] _Discorso circa il Reggimento i Governo degli Stati e\nSpecialmente sopra il Governo di Firenze._\n\n[165] O\u2019Dell Travers Hill, F.R.G.S., author of a biographical sketch\nof Savonarola, and translator of _The Triumph of the Cross_. London:\nHodder and Stoughton. 1858.\n\n[166] The most conclusive proof of the orthodoxy of Savonarola\u2019s\ndoctrine is found in the fact that his works, after a rigorous official\nscrutiny at Rome, were pronounced free from any error of faith or\nmorals deserving censure.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n[167] Song of Solomon, i. 6.\n\n[168] This pillar was destined by the first Napoleon for the decoration\nof the triumphal arch at Milan, the intended monument of his Italian\nvictories. His fall frustrated the design. Many years later,\nWordsworth, while descending into Italy by the Simplon Pass, came upon\nthe unfinished mass as it lay half raised from the Alpine quarry, and\naddressed to it his sublime sonnet beginning:\n\n  \u201cAmbition, following down the far-famed slope,\u201d\n\nand proceeding:\n\n  \u201cRest where thy course was stayed by power Divine.\u201d\n\n\n[169] _Ann._ l. iv. ch. xlvi.\n\n[170] This article and the one in our May number are from the pens of\ntwo distinct writers.\n\n[171] _The Expressions_, etc., p. 12.\n\n[172] _Expressions_, etc., p. 30.\n\n[173] Gen. i. 24.\n\n[174] Gen. i. 26.\n\n[175] Gen. ii. 7.\n\n[176] _Tongiorgi_, pars. ii. l. ii. c. iii. p. 292.\n\n[177] Balmes, _Fund. Phil._, v. ii. c. ii.\n\n[178] Ibid., v. ii. c. ii. p. 9.\n\n[179] Ibid., v. ii. c. iii.\n\n[180] _Tong._, l. iii. c. i.\n\n[181] S. Augustine, _De Civ. Dei_, xix. 13.\n\n[182] Cic.,_ De Offic._, i. 40.\n\n[183] _Histoire du Canada_. Par M. F. X. Garneau, ii. 23.\n\n[184] Chimney-swallow.\n\n[185] Fact.\n\n[186] A fact. She was never heard of afterwards.\n\n[187] Horrible as this scene is, it is nevertheless perfectly true,\neven in minutest detail.\n\n[188] Persons familiar with the Indian character well know their\nthieving propensities.\n\n[189] These reptiles were still so numerous in this part of the country\nnot many years ago that it was extremely dangerous to leave the windows\nopen in the evening. My mother related that, while she was living at\nSandwich with her father, one of the domestics was imprudent enough\nto leave a window open. During the evening, they had occasion to\nmove a sideboard which stood against the wall, and a large snake was\ndiscovered behind it fast asleep. Another day, when playing truant, a\nsnake sprang upon her, and tried to bite her waist; but happily her\nclothes were so thick that its fangs could not penetrate them. While\nshe ran in great terror, her companions called to her to untie her\nskirt. And that advice saved her life.\u2014AUTHOR.\n\n[190] \u201cWeep not for me.\u201d\n\n[191] \u201cFor the law of his God strove even unto death, and took no fear\nfrom the words of the impious; for he was founded upon a firm rock.\u201d\n\n[192] \u201cBehold, I am with you all days, even to the end of the world.\u201d\n\n[193] \u201cA man of sorrows, and acquainted with infirmity.\u201d\n\n[194] To save disappointment to those who may desire to possess a copy\nof the _Memoirs of Bp. Brut\u00e9_, we deem it proper to state that the work\nis out of print, but that the author has intimated his intention to\npublish a revised edition at some future day\u2014of which the public will\ndoubtless be duly informed.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n[195] A nickname for Spaniards.\n\n[196] Do your duty, come what will!\n\n[197] \u201cNature, when driven off, returns at a gallop.\u201d\n\n[198] These lectures are delivered in the chapel of J\u00e9sus-Ouvrier,\non Mont Sainte-Genevi\u00e8ve, every Monday and Thursday. They were\ncommenced by the Catholic Circle of Workingmen, and have been eminently\nsuccessful.\n\n[199] Mgr. Mermillod, _La Question Ouvri\u00e8re_, p. 25.\n\n[200] Mgr. Mermillod.\n\n[201] M. Ch. de Beaurepaire, _Histoire de l\u2019Instruction publique en\nNormandie_.\n\n[202] Ch. de Beaurepaire, l. i.\n\n[203] A fact.\n\n[204] The reader will find this subject amplified, under some of\nits aspects, in THE CATHOLIC WORLD for Aug., 1872, article\n\u201cSymbolism of the Church.\u201d\n\n[205] We should surmise the circular shape to be no less symbolical\nthan the other facts, and to denote the eternity of the church.\n\n[206] F. Mullooly, _S. Clement, Pope and Martyr, and his Basilica at\nRome_.\n\n[207] _C\u00e6s. Comm._\n\n[208] _Josephus._\n\n[209] \u201cThis image of the Druids is of a Moorish color, as are nearly\nall the others in the church of Chartres. We suppose this to have been\ndone by the Druids and others who followed them, on the presumptive\ncomplexion of the oriental people, who are exposed more than we to\nthe heat of the sun; for which reason the Spouse in the Canticle of\nCanticles says that the sun has discolored her, and that, although she\nis dark, she does not cease to be beautiful. Nevertheless, Nicephorus,\nwho had seen several pictures of the Virgin taken by S. Luke from life,\nsays that the color of her countenance was _\u03c3\u03b9\u03c4\u03bf\u03c7\u03c1\u03cc\u03b5_, or the color of\nwheat. This seems to mean the brown or chestnut color of wheat when\nripe.\u201d\n\n[210] \u201cThe Virgin was of middle height.... Her hair bordered on gold,\nher eyes were bright and sparkling, with the pupils of an olive color;\nher eyebrows arched, and of a black tinge, very pleasing. Her nose\nwas long, her lips bright red, her face neither round nor sharp, but\nsomewhat long; her hands and fingers equally so. She was in all things\nmodest and grave, speaking but seldom and to the purpose; ready to\nlisten to every one, affable to all, honoring each according to their\nquality. She used a becoming freedom of speech, without laughter and\nwithout perturbation, without being moved to anger. She was exempt from\nall pride, without lowering her dignity, and without fastidiousness,\nand showing in all her actions great humility.\u201d\n\n[211] \u201cThe church of Chartres is the most ancient in our kingdom,\nhaving been founded by prophecy in honor of the glorious Virgin Mother\nbefore the incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ, and in which the same\nglorious Virgin was worshipped during her lifetime.\u201d\n\n[212] _All\u2019s Well that Ends Well_, act ii. sc. iii.\n\n[213] The mention of the name of Montalembert by the writer of the\npresent article gives us the occasion to make an explanation which we\nthink it proper to make, on account of some criticisms that have been\ncalled forth by the manner in which we have spoken of him in former\narticles. The eulogium which we give or permit others to give this\nillustrious man in our pages by no means implies any approbation of\nany opinions or acts of his in sympathy with the party known by the\nsobriquet of \u201cLiberal Catholics.\u201d These were deflections from a course\nwhich was in the main orthodox and loyal, and it is not for these\ndeflections that we honor his memory, but for his virtues, merits,\nand services, and the cordial submission to the authority of the\nHoly See at the close of life, by which he effaced the memory of his\nfaults.\u2014ED. C. W.\n\n[214] These facts are chiefly gathered from an article on Hawthorne by\nMr. Stoddard; but this anecdote is from a weekly publication, to which\nwe are also indebted for the incident in the life of Edgar A. Poe.","title":"The Catholic World, Vol. 17, April, 1873 to September, 1873: A Monthly Magazine of General Literature and Science","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":505589}