{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_56631/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_56631","id":"gutenberg_56631","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56631","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - European","Category: History - Religious","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Reports & Conference Proceedings","Catholic Church -- Periodicals"],"text":"Produced by Don Kostuch\n\n\n\n\n\n [Transcriber's Notes: This production was derived from\n https://archive.org/stream/catholicworld08pauluoft/\n catholicworld08pauluoft_djvu.txt.\n Page images are also available at\n https://quod.lib.umich.edu/m/moajrnl/browse.journals/cath.html\n Use a fixed pitch font to view the tables.]\n\n ----------\n\n\n{i}\n\n The Catholic World.\n\n A Monthly Magazine\n\n of\n\n General Literature And Science.\n\n ----------\n\n Vol. VIII.\n\n October, 1868, TO March, 1869.\n\n ----------\n\nNew York:\nThe Catholic Publication House,\n126 Nassau Street.\n\n1869.\n\n{ii}\n\n\nJohn A. Gray & Green,\n\nPrinters,\n\n16 And 18 Jacob Street, New York.\n\n{iii}\n\n Contents.\n\n ----------\n\nAmerican College in Rome, The, 560.\nApostolic Letter from the Pope, 721.\nA Legend for Husbands, 824.\n\nBasilica of St. Saturnin, The, 101.\nBretons, The Faith and Poetry of the, 123.\nBrittany, Its People and its Poems, 598.\n\nChurch of the Future, The, 143.\nCatholicity and Pantheism, 181, 360, 565, 657, 811.\nCur\u00e9 d'Ars, Statue of, 200.\nCatholic Congress? Shall we have a, 224.\nCanadian Customs, 246.\nCharities of New York, The, 279.\nCatholicity, Creative Genius of, 406.\nChristmas Gifts, 546.\n\nDante Alighieri, 213.\n\nEducation, Catholic View of, 686.\nEarl Derby's Homer, 740.\n\nFlaminia, 76.\n\nGalileo-Galilei, 321, 433.\nGood old Time and our own, The, 380.\nGenius of Catholicity, The Creative, 406.\nGeneral Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church, 461.\nGeneral Council, The Approaching, 796.\n\nHospitality, Legend of, 68.\nHoly Grayle, The, 137.\nHyacinthe, Rev. P\u00e8re, Discourse of, 188.\nHypnotics, 289.\nHeremore-Brandon, 522, 663, 784.\nHuman Will, Teaching of Statistics concerning, 643.\nHomer's Iliad, by Earl Derby, 740.\nHusbands, A Legend for, 824.\n\nIreland's Martyrs, 838.\n\nKaulbach and the Era of the Reformation, 56.\n\nMassacre of St. Bartholomew, 1.\nMaria von M\u00f6rl, 32.\nMarcel, The Story of, 254, 347, 494.\nMiddle Ages, Ignorance of the, 598.\n\nOut of the Depths have I cried, 453.\nO'Reilly's Irish Martyrs, 838.\n\nPhilosophy and Science, The Present Disputes in, 229.\nPurgatory, Treatise on, 266.\nProtestant Episcopal Church, General Convention of, 461.\nProtestantism a Failure, 503.\nPope Pius IX., Letter Apostolic of, 536.\n\"Poor Mara!\" 637.\nPorter's Human Intellect, 671, 767.\nProgress of Nations, Seaman's, 724.\n\nReligion Medically Considered, 116.\nRings, 129.\nRight Path found through the Great Snow, The, 370.\nRitualism, The Future of, 828.\n\nSt. Bartholomew, Massacre of, 1.\nSisters of the Poor, The Little, 100.\nSchool-Room, In the, 132.\nSchaff's Church History, 417.\nScientific and Revealed Truth, The Unity of, 485.\nSun, Eclipse of, in 1868, 697.\nSeaman's Progress of Nations, 724.\nSt. Michael the Hermit, The Legend of, 853.\n\nThe Invasion, 18, 162, 301, 473, 619, 746.\nTalleyrand, 88.\nThe Little Sisters of the Poor, 110.\nThe Faith and Poetry of the Bretons, 123.\nTuscany, Glimpses of, 196, 316.\nThe Great Snow, The Right Path found through, 370.\nThe Poor? Who shall take care of, 703, 734.\nThe Iliad of Homer, 740.\n\nWho shall take care of our Sick? 42.\nWho shall take care of the Poor? 703, 734.\n\nXimenes, Cardinal, 577.\n\n----------\n\n Poetry.\n\n\nAspirations, 222.\nA Door, Inscription on, 636.\n\nCount de Montalembert, 128.\nChristmas, 471.\n\nDante, Sonnet from _Vita Nuova of, 545.\nDiscipline, 641.\nDe Profundis, 853.\n\nFriendships, 187.\n\nIndian Summer, 405.\n\nLines, 745.\n\nMine Enemy, 73.\n\nPenitence, 421.\nPrimrose, The Evening, 521.\nPius IX., The Volunteers for, 635.\n\nSummer Shower, A, 40.\n\nThe Silent Clock, 733.\n\n{iv}\n\n New Publications.\n\n\nAlton Park, 143.\nA Psyche of To-day, 143.\nA Becket, Life of, 428.\nAsmodeus in New York, 429.\nA Book about Dominies, 719.\nA Few Friends, 856.\n\nBarrington's Sketches of his own Times, 287.\nBeginning German, 574.\nBeginner's French, 576.\nBiarnois's Theoretical French, 718.\nBottala, Rev. Paul, on the Pope, 283.\n\nCardinals, Lives of the English, 139.\nCradle Lands, 422.\nCriminal Abortion, 573\nCharlie Bell, 860.\n\nDalgairns on the Holy Communion, 430.\n\nExcelsior, or Essays on Politeness, 288.\nEmmet, Life and Times of, 430.\n\nFather Cleveland, 141.\nFay's Outlines of Geography, 429.\n\nGropings after Truth, 429.\nGayarr\u00e9's Philip II. of Spain, 570.\nGreeley's Recollections, 571.\nGayarr\u00e9's History of Louisana, 716.\nGray's Botany, 860.\n\nHerbert's Cradle Lands, 422.\nHebrew Grammar, New, 426.\nHistorical Gazetteer of Vermont, 428.\nHopkins's Law of Love, 858.\nHayden's Light on Last Things, 838.\n\nIllustrated Family Almanac, 572.\n\nKelly's Dissertations on Irish Church History, 856.\n\nLogic for Young Ladies, 143.\nLeaf and Flower Pictures, 286.\nLife of Blessed Spinola, 859.\n\nM\u00fchlbach's Goethe and Schiller, 141.\nModern Women, 143.\nMrs. Sadlier's MacCarthy More, 288.\nMignon, 288.\nMoore's Poetical Works, 431.\nMoore's Memoir of Sheridan, 431.\nMark's Lessons in Geometry, 431.\n\nNew Adam, The, 427.\nNewman's Verses, 574.\nNew Illustrated History of Ireland, 720.\n\nO'Leary, Rev. Arthur, Works of, 287.\nO'Shea's Juvenile Library, 573.\nOutlines of Composition, 859.\n\nPlain Talk about Protestantism, 288.\nPlain Chant, A Grammar of, 857. 8\n\nRoman Martyrology, The, 430.\nRural Poems, 573.\nReport of New York University, 575.\nRobertson's Lectures on Burke, 717.\n\nSymbolism, by Moehler, 285.\nSunday-School Library, Illustrated, 286.\nShiel's Sketches of the Irish Bar, 287.\nSydnie Adriance, 430.\nSouth America, A Thousand Miles across, 431.\nSynodus Dioecesana Baltimorensis, 432.\nSt. John's Knowledge and Love of God, 573.\nSadlier's Almanac, 718.\n\nThe Works of Burns, Scott, Milton, etc., 142.\nThe Lily of the Valley, 287.\nThe Bird, 425.\nTablets, 426.\nThe Two Women, 432.\nTaine's Ideal of Art, 572.\nThe Little Gipsy, 574.\nTobacco and Alcohol, 719.\nThe Conscript, 859.\n\nWillson's Histories, 141.\nWebster's Dictionaries, 144.\nWinninger, Rev. F. X., on the Pope, 285.\n\n----------\n{1}\n\n The Catholic World.\n\n Vol. VIII., No. 43 October, 1868.\n\n----------\n\n The Massacre Of St. Bartholomew--its Origin And Character.\n [Footnote 1]\n\n [Footnote 1: _The Massacre of St. Bartholomew: preceded by\n a History of the Religious Wars in the Reign of Charles\n IX._ By Henry White. London: John Murray. 1868. 8vo, pp.\n xviii.-505.\n\n _La St. Barth\u00e9lemy, ses Origines, son Vrai Caract\u00e8re, ses\n Suites_. Par George Gandy. _Revue des Questions\n Historiques_. Tome ier, pp. 11-91, 32-391.]\n\nFew historical events have been more persistently used in\narguments against the Catholic Church than the massacre of\nAdmiral Coligny, and a great number of Protestant nobles and\npeople, at Paris, on St. Bartholomew's day, 1572, by orders\nemanating from the court.\n\nIsolated from the religious wars in which it is but one of the\ndarkest episodes, this affair has been set forward as an\nindependent act--a deliberate scheme of the Catholic party in\nFrance--king, nobles, and clergy--to extinguish Protestantism at\na single blow. The numbers of the victims have been exaggerated\nto an extent incompatible with all contemporary statistics of\npopulation; and the massacre of St. Bartholomew has thus been\ntransmitted, as if by a series of distorting mirrors, from the\npamphlets of the time to the histories, sermons, periodicals, and\nschool-books of our days, each reflection but a distortion of the\nlast, and so exceeding it in unreality that at length truth had\nbecome utterly hopeless.\n\nIn fact, we might as well expect to have Bibles throw out the\nlong-sanctioned misprint of \"strain at a gnat,\" and print,\ncorrectly, \"strain out a gnat,\" or omit the intrusive words at\nthe end of the Lord's Prayer, which all Protestant Biblical\nscholars admit to be spurious, as to expect popular accounts of\nSt. Bartholomew's day to come down to what is really certain and\nauthentic.\n\nEven among writers of a higher stamp, there seemed to be a\ndisposition to avoid research that would break the charm.\nHistorical scholars made little effort to free the subject from\nthe mists and fables with which it has been encompassed, and set\ndown only well-attested facts with authorities to sustain them.\n{2}\nIt is, therefore, with no less surprise than gratification that\nwe find in the recent work of Henry White a laborious and\nthorough examination of the evidence still extant as to the\noriginators of the dark deed, their motives and object, the\nextent of the slaughter, and the reasons assigned at the moment\nand subsequently. It is one of those subjects in which no work\nwill be accepted entirely by readers of an opposite faith,\ninasmuch as it is almost impossible to avoid drawing inferences,\nand ascribing motives for acts, to real or supposed modes of\nthought in the religious body to which the actors belonged.\n\n \"Respecting the massacre of St. Bartholomew there are also two\n theories. Some contend that it was the result of a\n long-premeditated plot; and this view was so ably maintained by\n John Allen, in the _Edinburgh Review_, (vol. xliv.--1826,)\n that nothing further was left to be said on the subject. Others\n are of opinion that it was the accidental result of a momentary\n spasm of mingled terror and fanaticism, caused by the\n unsuccessful attempt to murder Coligny. This theory has been\n supported by Ranke, in a review of Capefigue's _Histoire de\n la R\u00e9forme_; by Soldan; by Baum, in his _Life of Beza;_\n and by Coquerel, in the _Revue Th\u00e9ologique_, in 1859.\"\n\nSuch is White's statement of the position of the question; and\nhis work has been justly styled \"able and unpretentious.\"\n\nIn France, the anti-Christian writers of the last\ncentury--Voltaire and his school--were all loud in denunciation\nof the affair, and painted it in its worst colors. It was too\ngood a weapon, in their war against religion, to be easily laid\ndown; and it was made to do such good service that later Catholic\napologists have till recently scarcely ventured on any\nexamination of the question that would seem at all favorable. The\ndiscussion by Gandy is, in extent and research, as well as in\nsoundness of principle, by far the best review of the subject.\nYet, as a close historical argument, the force is sometimes\ndestroyed by the citation of comparatively weak and undecisive\nauthorities.\n\nIn English, the best Catholic tract on St. Bartholomew was that\nof Dr. Lingard.\n\nSome of his positions were not well taken, and do not stand when\nconfronted with authorities brought forward by later research.\nYet his essay compelled a real historic investigation by\nsubsequent writers, and has led, indirectly at least, to the work\nof Mr. White.\n\nThis writer says, not inaptly (p. 200): \"It is easy to prove any\nhistorical untruth by a skilful manipulation of documents.\" This\nskilful manipulation need not be done with the consciousness of\nguilt. It may be the result of prejudice, party spirit, bias; and\nhe himself is not free from objection. With an evident endeavor\nto be impartial, his education and prejudices lead him to slur\nover some acts and expatiate on others; to ascribe to exalted\npiety all the deeds of one party, and deny to the other any real\nreligious feeling.\n\nThis taints all his introductory chapters on the religious wars\nin France, prior to 1572, giving a false light and color to the\nwhole. It gives the impression that real piety, devotion,\nreligious feeling, were not to be found at all among the\nCatholics of France, but were the peculiar attributes of the\ndisciples gained by the emissaries sent from Geneva by Calvin.\n\n{3}\n\nBiassing the reader thus, he keeps back the real exterminating,\ndestructive, and intolerant spirit of the Huguenots, and, while\ndetailing here and there excesses, treats as insignificant the\nconspiracy of Amboise, Coligny's complicity in Poltrot's\nassassination of the Duke of Guise, Queen Jane's ruthless\nextirpation of Catholicity, the Michelade, and the fearful\nbutchery enacted by Montgomery at Orthez, a small place where,\nnevertheless, the Catholic victims numbered, according to his own\nfigures, three thousand, halt what he claims as the number of\nProtestant victims at Paris on the bloody day of St. Bartholomew.\n\nNor is he more happy in depicting the theories and ideas of the\ntwo parties.\n\nCompare the Protestants in France with the early Christians and\nthe difference will be seen. The Reformers everywhere were\naggressive and intolerant. They did not ask merely liberty to\nadopt new religious views and practise them. They did, indeed,\nraise the cry of religious freedom--freedom of worship--freedom\nof conscience; but what did these words really mean? They meant\nthe suppression of the Catholic worship, the extermination of the\npriesthood and religious orders, the pillage and defacing of\nCatholic churches, and the destruction of paintings, statues,\nrelics, and crosses. When this was done, they proclaimed\nreligious liberty. Thus, at Lyons, in 1562, \"the Mass was\nabolished, liberty of conscience proclaimed,\" in two consecutive\nclauses.\n\nThe utter absurdity of such a connection does not strike Mr.\nWhite, nor will it strike many English readers as it does a\nCatholic ear. The Protestant spirit has so falsified ideas that\nwe constantly hear the same inconsistency. The enthusiastic son\nof New England claims that the Puritan fathers established\n\"freedom to worship God according to the dictates of conscience,\"\nwhen, in fact, they claimed only the right to worship for\nthemselves and denied it to all others; the son of Rhode Island\nclaims Roger Williams as the real founder of toleration, and yet\nhis fanatical opposition to the slightest semblance to\nCatholicity was such that he exhorted the trained bands not to\nmarch under the English flag because it had the cross on it; the\nhistorian of New York, or the more elaborate historian of the\nNetherlands, will claim for Holland the honor of establishing\nreligious freedom, and we read their pages with the impression\nthat the people of the Netherlands were Protestant, as a unit;\nand that the republic established after throwing off the Spanish\nyoke made the land one where all creeds met in harmony, and all\nmen were equal in the eye of the law in their religious rights.\nYet what is the real fact? From that time till the present nearly\none half of the people of the Netherlands have been Catholics.\nThe Protestants, possessing a slight numerical advantage, ruled,\nand to the Catholics their rule was one of iron. They were\ndeprived of all churches, prohibited from erecting others,\nconfined to certain quarters, subjected to penal laws. Where then\nwas the freedom of worship? In the reformers' minds these words\nhad no application to Catholics.\n\nNow, it was this aggressive, intolerant spirit of the reformers\nthat made the civil governments in countries which elected to\nremain Catholic so severe on the new religionists. The moment a\nforeign emissary from Geneva gathered a few proselytes, enough to\nform a body of any size, then began coarse songs, ridiculing and\nscoffing at the holiest doctrines of the Catholics; then crosses\nwould be broken down, crucifixes, statues of the blessed Virgin\nand the saints, defaced or destroyed; as their numbers grew,\npriests would be driven from their churches or shot down, and the\nedifices themselves plundered and appropriated to the new creed.\n{4}\nThat such things could be borne tamely was impossible. In France\nthe government was weak and vacillating. The humbler and less\ninstructed portions of the Catholic body retaliated in the same\nmeasure that they saw meted out, and resisted a creed that used\nabuse and violence, by abuse and violence. They had not the cant\nof their antagonists, but true religion is not to be measured by\nthat standard.\n\nAlarmed by the excesses of the Reformers elsewhere, the French\ngovernment attempted to repress their entrance into France by\npenal laws, a course that seldom attains the end proposed. The\nprogress of error was to be checked by more assiduous teaching of\nthe people by their pastors, by zeal in reforming morals, by\ninstitutions practically exercising the spiritual and corporal\nworks of mercy.\n\nYet, while conceding the general deficiency of power in penal\nlaws to check the progress of religious opinions, it must be\nremembered that the destructive tenets we have alluded to made\nthe increase of the Calvinists a danger to the peace and\nwell-being of France. Beza, in his _Profession of Faith_,\n(v. Point p. 119,) advised the extermination of priests. Calvin\n(_Apud Becan_, t. v. opusc. 17, aph. 15, De modo propagandi\nCalvinismi) declares that the Jesuits must be killed or crushed\nby falsehood and calumny. The destruction of all representations\nof Christ and his saints was the constant theme of the reformed\npreachers, and under this war against idols, as they termed them,\nthey included insult and outrage to the remains of those\nillustrious men of the past whose exalted virtues had endeared\nthem to the Christian people.\n\nFrom that day to this Protestantism has sanctioned the outrages\nthus advised and thus committed. The right of Protestants to\ndemolish, on any slight pretext, Catholic churches, convents,\nshrines, monuments, or pictures, seems even now a sort of\nself-evident axiom, its exercise being regulated merely by\ngrounds of expediency. England and the United States can show\ntheir examples of this, even in the present century; in the last,\nthe outrages committed by New England troops in Canada and Acadia\nwhenever a Catholic church fell into their power; the careful\naiming of cannon at the monastic buildings in the siege of\nQuebec; the expedition against Louisburg, with the chaplain\nbearing an axe to demolish the idols; at once suggest themselves\nto the mind.\n\nThat Catholics possessed any right to their own churches, their\nown ideas of worship, was never entertained for a moment.\n\nThe civil law might justly repress such men, if not on the simple\nground of teaching false doctrines, at least for their claim of\nright to destroy the liberty of those who professed the religion\nof their ancestors.\n\nFor some years the reform gained slowly in France, the emissaries\nof Calvin never relaxing their efforts, and finally winning to\ntheir side Queen Jane of Navarre, the Prince of Cond\u00e9 and the\nthree famous brothers of the house of Chatillon, D'Andelot,\nAdmiral Coligny, find the profligate Cardinal Odet. By this time\nthe Protestant churches, true to their aggressive character,\nassumed a military organization, as White (p. 23) and Fauriel, a\nrecent French Protestant author, admit, and aimed at the\noverthrow alike of Catholicity and royalty. This secret\npreparation for an armed attempt to secure the mastery of France\nhad, by 1560, attained its full development.[Footnote 2]\n{5}\nThe moment had come for a grand effort which was to exterminate\nCatholicity from France as utterly as it has been from Sweden,\nwhere not even gratitude for their foremost struggle for\nindependence saved the Catholic Dalecarlians from annihilation.\n\n [Footnote 2: Consult _M\u00e9moires de Saulx Tavannes_,\n p. 29; Lavall\u00e9e, _Histoire des Fran\u00e7ais_, i. p. 575;\n Fauriel, _Essai sur les Ev\u00e9nements qui ont pr\u00e9c\u00e9d\u00e9 et\n anten\u00e9 le St. Barth\u00e9lemy_, p. 19-]\n\nThe position of affairs in France justified the hopes of the\nreformers. There were three parties in the state--the earnest\nCatholic party, headed by the Guises of Lorraine; the Huguenot\nparty, directed by Calvin, with Cond\u00e9 in France as its future\nking, and Coligny as its master-spirit; and, as usual in such\ncases, a third party of weak men, who hampered the Catholics, and\nthus strengthened their opponents, by hesitation, uncertainty,\nand fitfulness.\n\nThe queen mother, Catharine de Medicis, disliked the house of\nLorraine more than she loved Catholicity; and, jealous of the\ngrowing power of the Guises, was not disinclined to see the party\nof Cond\u00e9 counterbalance it. Hence, she generally threw her\ninfluence into the third party, in which figured the Duke\nd'Alen\u00e7on, the Montmorencies, Coss\u00e9, Biron, and to which men like\nthe famous Chancellor l'Hopital gave their influence. How little\nthe true Catholic spirit, as we understand it now, prevailed\namong the higher nobility, may be inferred from the fact that the\ntwo great Protestant leaders, Cond\u00e9 and Coligny, were brothers of\ncardinals, their close relationship to princes of the Roman\nChurch exerting no influence. One of these cardinals apostatized,\nand, after defying the pope, fled to England, to be poisoned by\nhis valet; the other was a mere figure in the stirring scenes and\ntimes in which he lived.\n\nFrancis II., husband of Mary, Queen of Scots, on ascending the\nthrone, placed the control of affairs in the hands of his uncles,\nthe Cardinal of Lorraine and the Duke of Guise. This meant a firm\ngovernment, not one to tolerate an _imperium in imperio_--a\npower able to put in the field, as Coligny boasted, one hundred\nand fifty thousand men.\n\nEncouraged by the edict of January, 1560, the masses of the\nreformed party were, everywhere that their numbers permitted it,\nseizing Catholic churches and monasteries, expelling the inmates,\ndemolishing every vestige of the ancient faith. While they were\nthus committing themselves, and overawing the Catholics, the\nleaders formed the celebrated plot of Amboise to assassinate the\nGuises, seize the person of the king, and, of course, the control\nof the government. In spite of his disavowal, made after it had\nfailed, Calvin really approved of it at first. This White denies,\n(p. 82;) but the letter to Sturm, cited by Gandy, (p. 28,) is\ndecisive; and in the very letter where he seems to condemn his\nfollowers, he says: \"Had they not been opposed, in time our\npeople would have seized many churches; ... but there, too, they\nyielded with the same weakness.\" (_Bulletin de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9 de\nl'Histoire du Protestantisme Fran\u00e7ais_, i. p. 250.) Coligny's\ncomplicity is as evident. The ostensible leader was Bary de la\nRenaudie, \"whose enmity to Guise,\" says White, \"probably made him\nrenounce his religion and join the reformers.\"\n\nProtestant writers all admit that the plot of Amboise would, if\nsuccessful, have overthrown Catholicity for ever in France. The\nGuises saw the danger to themselves, to Catholicity, and to\nroyalty, and acted with promptness and energy.\n{6}\nEvery road and avenue leading to the place was guarded, and the\nseparate bands of the conspirators as they came up were met and\ncrushed, la Renaudie, the ostensible leader, being slain.\n\nThen followed a series of terrible criminal proceedings. The\npartisans of the rebellion were tried, condemned, and executed\nwith as little mercy as English rulers ever manifested to Irish\nrebels. White puts the number executed at one thousand two\nhundred, but cites no authorities to justify so large an\nestimate.\n\nAfter this affair at Amboise, \"the political character of the\nHuguenots,\" as White admits, \"became more prominent, and proved\nthe temporary destruction of French Protestantism.\" The reformers\ncommitted many outrages on the Catholics after the failure at\nAmboise, especially in the districts where Montbrun and Mouvans\nswept through with the hand of destruction, till the latter\nperished miserably at Draguignan. Then followed a new Huguenot\nplot, formed by Cond\u00e9 and his brother Anthony, but Francis II.\nraised a considerable force, and, marching down, overawed them.\nCond\u00e9 and the other Huguenot leaders were summoned to appear\nbefore him. D'Andelot fled; Cond\u00e9 appeared, was tried, and\ncondemned; but before any other steps were taken Francis II. died\nin November. \"Did you ever hear or read of anything so opportune\nas the death of the little king?\" wrote Calvin; and Beza gloried\nover \"the foul death of the miserable boy.\"\n\nCharles IX. became king, with his mother, Catharine de Medicis,\nas regent, and she sought to weaken the power of the Guises.\nCond\u00e9 was released from prison, his brother Anthony made\nlieutenant-general of the kingdom. An assembly of the Three\nEstates was convened, but dissolved without effecting any good.\nThroughout the land, the Huguenots employed abuse and violence,\ndrawing on themselves fearful punishment.\n\nStill, under Catharine's fickle favor, the Huguenots were\nsteadily gaining ground, and the Colloquy at Poissy, in 1562,\nwhere Beza appeared in person, was, in its actual result and in\nmoral effect, a victory to the reformers. The countenance of the\ncourt gave them boldness. The Catholic party saw the evident\ndanger and were loud in their complaints, but this only made\ncollisions more frequent: one party elate with hope and triumph,\nthe other seeing naught but treachery and violence.\n\nIt needed but a spark to kindle a conflagration; at last it came.\nOn Corpus Christi, in 1561, as the procession of the blessed\nsacrament moved through the streets of Lyons, a Huguenot rushed\nupon the officiating clergyman and endeavored to wrest the\nconsecrated host from his hands. So daring an outrage roused the\nCatholics to fury. In an instant the whole city was in arms, and\nthe innocent atoned in blood for the madness of one. Even in\nParis itself similar riots took place, and fifty Catholics were\nkilled or wounded at the church of St. Medard, into which\nD'Andelot rode on horseback at the head of the Huguenots.\n\nThe edict of January, 1562, came at last to effect a peace. By\nits provisions the Protestants were to restore the churches they\nhad seized, to cease their abuse of the Catholic ceremonies in\nprint or discourse, and, in return, were allowed to hold meetings\nunarmed outside the city, but their ministers were not to go from\ntown to town preaching.\n{7}\nThe measure of toleration thus granted may not seem excessive,\nbut it was far greater than any Protestant power then, or long\nsubsequently, granted to such subjects as preferred not to change\ntheir creed.\n\nThe measure, however, failed to produce tranquillity. The\nHuguenots, far from restoring what they had seized, continued\ntheir acts of violence. At Nismes the churches and convents were\nattacked and profaned, while in Gascony and Languedoc the\nreformers had established such a reign of terror that for forty\nleagues around no Catholic priest durst show himself.\nMontpellier, Montauban, and Castres beheld similar profanations\nof churches.\n\nColigny, a prototype of Cromwell in apparent fanaticism, in\nmilitary skill, in relentless cruelty toward the Catholic clergy,\nlike the Puritan leader of the next century, looked beyond the\nAtlantic. He had projected a Protestant colony of refuge in\nBrazil; its failure did not prevent his renewing the attempt in\nFlorida. In the month following that in which the edict was\nissued, he despatched John Ribaut to lay the foundation of a\nFrench colony in America. He seems to have been planning a\nretreat against sudden disaster in the war they were rapidly\npreparing. The fate of that colony is well known. At Vassy, in\nMarch, a Huguenot congregation came into collision with the Duke\nof Guise; accounts differ widely as to the details. The duke\nasserted that his men were attacked. On being struck in the face\nwith a stone, he cried to his men to show no quarter, and,\naccording to White, fifty or sixty were killed and two hundred\nwounded.\n\nIn a moment the affair was taken up and echoed through France. It\nwas worth an army to the cause of rebellion. The military\nchurches rose. So complete was their organization that almost\nsimultaneously thirty-five cities were taken, the Cevennes, the\nVivarrais, and the Comt\u00e9 Venaissin were in revolt. Everywhere the\nCatholic worship was suppressed, the churches stripped, the\nclergy banished, while the riches torn from the shrines and\naltars enabled them to maintain the war.\n\nThe shrine of St. Martin of Tours, venerated and enriched by the\npiety of France during a thousand years, gave Cond\u00e9, prince of\nthe blood, a million two thousand livres to devastate France. To\nadd to their strength, the Huguenots then formed the treaty of\nHampton Court with Elizabeth, and by it agreed to restore Calais\nto England.\n\nAs we have seen, they took Lyons, and, after massacring priests\nand religious, abolished the Mass, and with the same breath\ndeclared that every one should be free in his religion. As the\nCatholics were unprepared, city after city fell into their hands,\ntill no less than two hundred were swept by these devastating\nhordes, fiercer than Goth or Vandal. The history of every French\ncity marks at this epoch the destruction of all that the past had\nrevered. Orleans, Mans, Troyes, Tours, Bayeux, all repeat the\nsame story. Everywhere priests, religious of both sexes, Catholic\nlaity, were butchered and mutilated with every barbarity. The\nBaron des Adrets stands forth as the terrible butcher of this\nperiod, who made his barbarity a sport, and trained the mind of\nFrance to savage inhumanity. In the little town of Montbrison, in\nAugust, 1562, he slaughtered more than eight hundred men, women,\nand children.\n\nThe recent French historian, Martin, whose work is in process of\npublication in this country, glosses over this period by merely\nalluding to the profanation and pillage of the Catholic churches\nand religious houses.\n{8}\nEvery local history in France, however, attests the slaughter and\nmutilation of the clergy, the last infamy always popularly\nascribed to the order of Coligny. Beza, writing in January, 1562,\nadmits that the Protestants of Aquitaine, though enjoying full\nreligious liberty, massacred priests and wished to exterminate\ntheir enemies.\n\nThis sudden rebellion was the work of Coligny, who, with his army\nof religious enthusiasts, and \"all the restless, factious, and\ndiscontented, who linked their fortunes to a party whose triumph\nwould involve confiscation of the wealth of the church,\" with\nGerman mercenaries and English plunderers, swept through the land\nwith prayer on his lips and treason in his heart.\n\nHe cloaked his treason under the hypocritical pretext that he was\nin arms not against the king, but against the king's advisers.\nWhite allows himself to be deluded by this hypocritical sham, and\nin several places censures the _treasonable_ conduct of the\nCardinal of Lorraine and others, who wrote to the King of Spain\nsoliciting his aid to save Catholicity in France, while Coligny,\nin arms against his king, making treaties with Elizabeth of\nEngland, introducing into France English and German mercenaries,\nis never branded as a traitor at all. And if Cond\u00e9 and Coligny\nmerely sought to banish the Guises, how was that to be effected\nby pillaging Catholic churches? They took up arms to exterminate\nthe leaders of the Catholic party and the clergy, suppress the\nCatholic worship, and place Cond\u00e9 on the throne. White, too,\ncensures the pope for interfering, but neglects to put before his\nreader the fact that part of France, the Comt\u00e9 Venaissin, then\nbelonged to the Holy See, and that in that part the Huguenots\nwere committing the same ravages. Meanwhile the royal armies\nrallied; and, as a first step, endeavored to induce the Huguenot\nleaders to lay down their arms. Cond\u00e9 was so far influenced by\nthe offers made, that he agreed to leave France if Guise would do\nthe same, but Beza traversed the projects of peace. He besought\nthe prince, says White, \"not to give over the good work he had\nbegun, which God, whose honor it concerned, would bring to\nperfection.\"\n\nNegotiation failing, the royal troops began the campaign to\nrecover the conquered cities. Blois, Tours, Poitiers, Angers,\nBourges, and Rouen were at once retaken, and Orleans, the\nstronghold of reform, besieged. In the battle of Dreux, fought on\nthe 19th of December, the rebels were utterly defeated, Cond\u00e9\nremaining a prisoner in the hands of the royal forces.\n\nWhile besieging Orleans, (February 18th,) Guise was assassinated\nby Jean M\u00e9r\u00e9 de Poltrot, a man whom Coligny aided with money, and\nwho had revealed to that nobleman his project of murder. White's\nendeavor to exculpate Coligny is very lame. He deems it\nsuspicious that Poltrot was executed at once without his being\nconfronted with Coligny; as though the rebel general would have\ncome into court for the purpose, in the very heat of the civil\nwar. He finally, however, admits: \"This leaves no doubt that\nColigny assented, if he did not consent, to the crime. He was not\nunwilling to profit by it, though he would do nothing to further\nit. This may diminish the lofty moral pedestal on which some\nwriters have placed the Protestant hero; but he was a man, and\nhad all a man's failings, though he may have controlled them by\nhis religious principles. Nor was assassination considered at all\ncowardly or disgraceful in those days; not more so than killing a\nman in a duel was, until very recently, among us.\"\n\n{9}\n\nAs he knew the project and gave money, it is hard to see how \"he\nwould do nothing to further it.\" That he had all a man's failings\nis a very loose form of speech; so loose and broad that, if\nassassination was not then deemed cowardly or disgraceful, the\nsubsequent killing of Coligny himself, \"a man with all a man's\nfailings,\" can scarcely be deemed cowardly or disgraceful. In\nfact, at the time, the Protestant party openly defended the\nmurder of Guise, and Beza, not exempt himself from suspicion of\ncomplicity, \"conferred on Poltrot the martyr's crown.\"\n\nThe Catholic party, thus deprived of its best military leader,\n(for Montmorency was a prisoner, and St. Andre was butchered in\ncold blood after the battle of Dreux,) again inclined to peace. A\nnegotiation, opened through Cond\u00e9, resulted in the pacification\nof Amboise, March 19th, 1563. This gave each man liberty to\nprofess the religion of his choice in his own domicile, but\nrestricted public worship of the Protestants more than the edict\nof January had done.\n\nThe conference at Bayonne between the French and Spanish courts\nhas often been represented as a plot for the utter extermination\nof the Huguenots. White shows that it was but a series of\nfestivities; and though the troubles were spoken of, neither\ncourt counselled violent measures. Even Alva went no further than\nsuggesting the seizure of the most turbulent leaders.\n\nCharles himself, favorable at Bayonne, became embittered against\nthe reformers, as White himself states, by what he saw as he\nreturned through the states of the Queen of Navarre, who had,\nwith relentless fury, extirpated Catholicity from her territory.\n\nThe pacification could not restore peace to the excited public\nmind while the two antagonistic parties stood face to face. The\nfavor shown to Cond\u00e9 after he joined in expelling his English\nallies from Havre, as well as to Coligny, whom Montmorency\nsummoned to garrison Paris, emboldened the reformers. The\nremaining Catholic churches began to undergo the terrible\nprofanation that visited so many, and with this came retaliation.\nThe Protestant princes in Germany at this time appealed to\nCharles to show lenity to their fellow-believers in his kingdom.\nThe French monarch rebuked their intermeddling, and added, \"I\nmight also pray them to permit the Catholics to worship freely in\ntheir own cities.\" And White admits that the Catholics there\nfared no better than the Huguenots in France.\n\nMeanwhile the Huguenot party was preparing for a new effort to\nobtain complete control. A force raised to watch the Spanish\nmovements in the Low Countries was made the pretext. A plot was\nformed to seize the king and his mother, and Coligny, to blind\nthe court, remained superintending his vineyards. But on the 28th\nof September, 1567, all France was in flames. Fifty towns were\nseized, and a strong force of Huguenot cavalry dashed upon Meaux\nto seize the king. Charles, nearly entrapped by the specious\nL'Hopital, reached Paris, protected by a body of gentlemen under\nthe Duke de Nemours, but Cond\u00e9 pressed so close that Charles more\nthan once turned on his pursuers, and fought at the head of his\nlittle body-guard.\n\nAs before, the Catholics were without union or plan, while the\nHuguenots were an organized body of secret conspirators, acting\non a well-concerted plan.\n\n{10}\n\nProtestant allegiance to a Catholic monarch has never been very\nstrong; indeed, it seems simply a creature of circumstance, not a\nmatter of obligation. The attempt to set aside a Catholic\nsovereign after the death of Edward VI. and of Charles II. has\nnever been treated as a crime. In the same spirit, White sees\nnothing wrong in Cond\u00e9 except failure: \"His failure (to seize the\nking's person) made him a traitor as well as a rebel.\" And yet,\nwith that strange perversity of ideas that seems inherent in his\nschool, he at once brands the Cardinal of Lorraine as a traitor\nfor inviting in the King of Spain, as Cond\u00e9 had Elizabeth.\n\nThe battle of St. Denis, under the walls of Paris, cost the royal\nparty the life of Montmorency, while it gave them a doubtful\nvictory. The usual horrors again desolated France. Nismes, in\n1567, witnessed its famous Michelade, or massacre of the\nCatholics. It was a deliberate act. White says none has attempted\nto justify it. He puts the number of victims at seventy or\neighty, but cites no authority. Mesnard, in his _Histoire de\nNismes;_ and Vaissette, in his _Histoire G\u00e9n\u00e9rale de\nLanguedoc_, make it from one hundred and fifty to three\nhundred.\n\nThe military operations continued until Catharine visited the\nHuguenot camp, and effected the treaty of Longjumeau, (March\n20th, 1568.) But this peace was as hollow as the rest. White\ncharges that the Catholics put numbers of Protestants to death.\nThe Huguenots certainly continued their destruction of Catholic\nchurches. \"Brequemant, one of their leaders,\" says White,\n\"cheered them on to murder, wearing a string of priests' ears\naround his neck.\"\n\nAt last the Catholics saw the necessity of organizing, and in\nJune, 1568, a Christian and Royal League was formed at Champagne,\n\"to maintain the Catholic Church in France, and preserve the\ncrown in the house of Valois, so long as it shall govern\naccording to the Catholic and Apostolic religion.\"\n\nThis White qualifies as \"a formidable league that shook the\nthrone, and brought France to the brink of destruction:\" while he\nhas no such terms to apply to the military organization of the\nHuguenot churches, which was endeavoring to seize the government,\nand raise Cond\u00e9 to the throne under the name of Louis XIII.\n\nThe Catholics did not act too soon. The Huguenots were again ripe\nfor action. The leaders retired to Rochelle, and France was again\nin arms. Elizabeth sent to Rochelle men, arms, and money; the\nPrince of Orange also promised aid.\n\nThe first great battle was fought at Jarnac, March 13th, 1569,\nwhere Cond\u00e9 was defeated and killed. Andelot died soon after, in\nMay, and Duke Wolfgang, of Deux Ponts, who brought fourteen\nthousand Germans to swell the Huguenot ranks, soon followed.\nColigny gained some advantage in the action at Roche Abeille,\nshowing terrible cruelty to the prisoners; but in the battle of\nMoncontour his army of eighteen thousand was scattered to the\nwinds, scarcely a thousand being left around him. Then cries for\nquarter were met by shouts of \"Remember Roche Abeille!\"\n\nRetreating, Coligny was joined by Montgomery, fresh from that\nterrible massacre of Orthez, before which St. Bartholomew itself\npales, three thousand Catholics having been butchered, without\nregard to age or sex, and the river Gave being actually dammed up\nby the bodies of the Catholics. The indecisive action of Arnay le\nDue led to negotiations resulting in the treaty of St. Germain,\nAugust, 1570.\n\n{11}\n\nThese treaties are differently viewed. The proposal for them\nalways came from the court, and followed every victory gained by\nthe Catholic party. White would make them out to be traps laid by\nCatharine; Gandy seems to lean to the same solution in\nattributing them to her, though he makes her object to have been\nto prevent the Guises from being complete masters.\n\nBut may we not suppose the Catholic party sincere in their wish\nfor peace? They were never first to take up arms; they were\nunorganized; the court was wavering, and always contained a\nnumber of secret allies of the Huguenot cause. That the Huguenot\nleaders, after a defeat, should through these raise a peace party\nat court would be a matter of course. The peace gave them all\nthey needed--time to prepare for a new campaign.\n\nCharles IX. was sincere in his wish to make the treaty of St.\nGermain a reality. In the interval of tranquillity he married,\nand turned his thoughts to foreign affairs, proposing to aid the\nNetherlands against the King of Spain. But the Huguenot leaders\nkept together in the strong city of Rochelle, ready for prompt\naction. At last, however, Coligny, in September, 1571, repaired\nto court, where he was received by Charles with great cordiality.\nTwo marriage schemes were now set on foot to strengthen the\nProtestant cause--the marriage of Henry of Navarre with Margaret,\nsister of Charles IX., and the marriage of his brother,\nD'Alen\u00e7on, to Queen Elizabeth. Even Jane, Queen of Navarre, came\nto Blois to negotiate in regard to the marriage of her son.\n\nColigny so far gained Charles that a French force took Mons, and\nan army under Genlis, marching to that place, was defeated by the\nSpaniards, under Don Federigo de Toledo. The marriage of Henry\ntook place on the 18th of August, and seemed to confirm Coligny's\nparamount influence at court.\n\nThis influence, thus suddenly acquired, is in itself a great\nmystery. Why Charles should thus take to his confidence a man who\nhad so recently and so repeatedly organized armed treason, who\nhad ravaged and desolated half his kingdom, who had laid in ruins\nnearly half the churches and religious establishments of France,\nhas never been satisfactorily explained.\n\nThat Charles was a mere hypocrite, and that his conduct was part\nof a concerted plot, does not seem at all warranted by any\nevidence that deserves consideration. That he could really have\nconceived so sudden an attachment, confidence, and respect for\nthe admiral can be explained only as one of the sudden freaks of\na man whose mind was eccentric to the very verge of insanity. But\nColigny really ruled in the councils of France; the Guises were,\nin a manner, banished from court. Catharine and Anjou saw their\ninfluence daily decrease. Coligny insisted on war with Spain, and\nplainly told Charles that he must fight Spain or his own\nsubjects--use the Huguenots to aid Holland against Philip II., or\nbehold civil war again ravaging France.\n\nCatharine strongly opposed this warlike spirit, and sought means\nto regain her lost power.\n\nThe arrogant attitude of Coligny was fast uniting all whom\njealousy or personal interest had divided. As often happens, it\nneeded but a spark to kindle a vast conflagration.\n\nOne of the great historical questions has been as to the\npremeditation of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. The Huguenot\npamphleteers of the day, followed by the overrated De Thou,\nVoltaire and his school, and the less temperate Catholic writers,\nmaintain that the plot was long before concerted.\n{12}\nWhite, by his chain of authorities, shows that it was at first\naimed at Coligny only, and that the general massacre was not\npremeditated.\n\nAnjou expressly states that, finding the influence of the admiral\ndangerous to himself and his mother, they determined to get rid\nof him, and to concert means with the Duchess of Nemours, \"whom\nalone we ventured to admit into the plot, because of the mortal\nhatred she bore to the admiral,\" in her mind the real murderer of\nher husband, the Duke of Guise.\n\nThis statement of Anjou is supported by the testimony of Michieli\n(Baschet, _Diplomatie Venetienne_, p. 541) and of the nuncio\nSalviati.\n\nThis makes the first move one of the court party against Coligny\npersonally. The Catholic party, then a recently formed\norganization, had no part in it; and yet, if we may credit the\nstatement of Cretineau Joly, who has never deceived as to a\ndocument he professes to possess, Catholicity in France was in\nimminent peril, Coligny having, in a letter of June 15th, 1572,\nto the Prince of Orange, given notice of an intended general\nexecution of the Catholics in September. If a general massacre\nwas plotted, the Catholic party were to be victims, not actors.\n\nColigny's death having been decided on, Henry de Guise was\nadmitted to the plot, and the execution assigned to him. It\nneeded little to stimulate him to shoot down one who had been\nprivy to his father's assassination. An officer, either Maurevert\nor Tosinghi, was stationed in a vacant house belonging to Canon\nVillemur, and as Coligny rode past fired at him, cutting off the\nfirst finger of the right hand, and burying a ball in his left\narm.\n\nCharles was, as all admit, not only not privy to this act, but\nwas deeply incensed at it. He ordered the assassin to be pursued,\nand, in despatches to other parts of the kingdom, gave assurance\nof his intention to adhere to the edict of pacification and to\npunish all who infringed it. Accompanied by his mother and his\nbrother Henry, he went, that same afternoon, to see the admiral.\nThere a long private conversation ensued between the king and\nColigny. White gives this at length from a life of Coligny,\npublished in 1576, but which cannot surely be held as authority.\nIt rests probably on no better source than the _M\u00e9moires de\nl'Etat de France._\n\nCharles, in his letter to the French ambassador at London, tells\nhim that this \"vile act proceeds from the enmity between\nColigny's house and the house of Guise. I will take steps to\nprevent their involving my subjects in their quarrels.\"\n\nWhether the interview changed the king's mind as to the source of\nthe attempt, of course is only conjectural. Still acting in good\nfaith, he appointed a commission of inquiry, including members of\nboth religions, the Huguenots apparently suggested by Coligny.\n\nCharles returned to his palace moody and incensed. He ordered\nguards to protect Coligny against any further violence, and by\nhis demeanor alarmed his mother and Henry. The Duke d'Aumale and\nHenri de Guise, foreseeing a tempest, withdrew to the Hotel de\nGuise, and shut themselves up.\n\nThe position of affairs was strange enough. The admiral was not\nwounded so as to excite any alarm as to his recovery; the loss of\na finger and a bullet-wound in the arm, injuries not requiring,\none would suppose, the nine physicians and eleven surgeons called\nin.\n{13}\nBut it was an attempt on the life of the leader of their party,\nand the Huguenots determined to pursue it at all hazards. The\nmore violent of them marched through the streets in military\narray, threatening not only the Guises, who were considered the\nprime movers, but Anjou, the queen-mother, and even the king\nhimself. They passed the Hotel de Guise with every mark of\ndefiance, and proceeding to the Louvre, made their way to the\nking's presence as he sat at supper, fiercely demanding\nvengeance: \"If the king refuses us justice,\" they cried, \"we will\ntake the matter into our own hands.\"\n\nThis violence could not but have had its effect on the king. At\nall events, it must have made him ready to credit any charge of\nviolence brought against them. Catharine was clearly overjoyed at\nthe false step of the Huguenots, as offering her a means of\nescape from her critical position.\n\nOn Saturday, after dinner, a cabinet council was held, and here,\naccording to Tavannes, Anjou, and Queen Margaret of Navarre, it\nwas for the first time proposed to Charles to put an end to all\nthe troubles by cutting off Coligny and the leaders of the party.\nThe council was composed, it is said, of Catharine, Anjou,\nNevers, Tavannes, Retz, and the chancellor Birague. Of Catharine\nand Anjou, afterward Henry III., we need say nothing. Tavannes\nwas little but a soldier, ready for action. The rest, strangely\nenough, were Italians. Louis de Gonzaga, Duke of Nevers by\nmarriage, was timid and easily led; Albert de Gondi, Marshal de\nRetz, foster-brother of the king, was a schemer; Ren\u00e9 de Birague\nis represented by Mezeray as one who bent before every breath of\nwind from the court.\n\nNot only in this council was there no one of the Huguenot party\nso recently restored to favor, but no one of the moderate party,\nnone even of the old French nobility. All but Tavannes were bound\nto Catharine, and would naturally support her.\n\nAccording to Anjou and Tavannes, Catharine urged the necessity of\nthe blow to prevent a new civil war, for which the Huguenots were\npreparing, having sent for ten thousand Germans and six thousand\nSwiss, their object being to place Henry of Navarre on the\nthrone. Margaret states that they made the king believe his life\nin danger. The nuncio Salviati, in his despatch of September 2d,\nalso ascribes the king's ultimate action to the instigation of\nCatharine, impelled by her fears.\n\nCharles hesitated long, and at last yielded, crying: \"Kill all,\nthen, that none may live to reproach me.\" The words of 'the weak\nking, wrought to madness by his perplexities, seem to have been\naccepted at once; and the scheme of murder took a wider scope.\nThe Huguenots were doomed.\n\nThe question arises, Had Catharine any ground for charging the\nHuguenots with a plot against the king? A despatch of the Duke of\nAlva had been received, announcing it. White derides the idea as\npreposterous. Gandy examines the subject, and admits that the\ncharge lacks all requisite proof. He ascribes the whole to fear.\nBut this does not seem to explain it sufficiently.\n\nThe fact of a plot formed after Coligny's wound must have been\nestablished in some degree at least, to have brought the king to\nthe policy of the queen-mother. The bed of justice on the 26th,\nthe solemn declaration of Charles, the action of the Parliament,\nmay have been rash and unsupported by proper testimony, but were\nto all appearance sincere.\n{14}\nCharles was not a hypocrite. The declarations of Bouchavannes as\nto what was proposed at Coligny's house were doubtless more than\njustified by the loud threats of some of the leaders, like De\nPilles and Pardaillan, whose words and deeds make La Noue call\nthem stupid, clumsy fools.\n\nThe solution of this historical question is made the more\ndifficult from the speedy termination of the house of Valois.\nThat family and the League come down to us under a heavy cloud of\nodium; the succession of Henry IV. to the throne made them the\nonly parties on whom all might safely lay the burden of an act at\nonce a crime and a blunder, while it was equally necessary to\nshield the party with which Henry then acted from any charge of\nconspiracy. Interest raised up apologists for him and his\nassociates: there was none to do reverence to the name of\nCatharine or the fallen house of Valois.\n\nOnce that the council had decided on its bloody course, the\naction was prompt. Guise, from being a prisoner in his house, was\nsummoned to command. To the leaders of the people of Paris he\nrepeated the charge of a Huguenot conspiracy against the king, of\nSwiss and German invaders, adding the approach of a force under\nMontmorency to burn the city. At four in the afternoon Anjou rode\nthrough the streets. At ten, another council was held, to which\nLe Charron, provost of the merchants, was summoned. To him the\nking repeated the same charges, giving him orders to put the\nable-bodied men in each ward under arms, and take precaution for\nthe safety of the city.\n\nMeanwhile, Huguenot gentlemen entered the palace as usual, and\nCatholics mingled with the Huguenots who called upon Coligny.\n\nWhite makes an observation that must strike all: \"It is strange\nthat the arrangements in the city, which must have been attended\nwith no little commotion, did not rouse the suspicion of the\nHuguenots.\"\n\nAt midnight another council was held in the palace. Charles was\nviolent and wavered, but Catharine held him to his decision, and\nGuise went forth to complete the work.\n\nBetween three and four in the morning, Guise, Aumale, Angoul\u00eame,\nNevers, with some German and Italian soldiery, proceeded to\nColigny's house. Admission was gained in the king's name, and\nCarl Dianowitz, or Behm, ran the admiral through, others\nfinishing him as he fell to the floor. The body was then thrown\nfrom the window, where Guise and Angoul\u00eame treated it\ncontemptuously. Petrucci cut off the head. The mob mutilated the\nbody, as priests had been, by the admiral's orders, and it was\nfinally hung on the public gallows at Montfau\u00e7on. All the\noccupants of the house were slain but two, Merlin and Cornaton.\nIn the adjoining dwellings were Teligny, Rochefoucault, and\nothers, who were all slain.\n\nThen came the signal from Saint Germain l'Auxerrois, and the\nmassacre became general. The Huguenot gentlemen in the Louvre\nwere slain before the eyes of the king to the number of two\nhundred, says White in his text, although his footnote, citing\nQueen Margaret's account, says her estimate of thirty or forty is\nmore probable.\n\nIn the city, the houses in which Huguenots lodged had been\nregistered, and were thus easily found. The soldiers burst in,\nkilling all they found; but the citizens seem to have gone too\nfar.\n{15}\nAt five in the afternoon, they were ordered to lay down their\narms, although the work of blood was continued for two days by\nthe soldiery.\n\nThe details of the massacre would extend this article much too\nfar.\n\nAmong the questions that have arisen, is the alleged firing of\nCharles on the drowning Huguenots thrown into the Seine. It is\nasserted in the party pamphlets, the _R\u00e9veille-Matin_, 1574,\n_Le Tocsin_, 1579, but rests chiefly on what Froude calls\n\"the worthless authority of Brantome.\"\n\nA more important point is the number of victims. The estimates\ndiffer widely:\n\n La Popelini\u00e8re, a Huguenot contemporary...1,000\n\n Kirkaldy of Grange, in a letter to Scotland at\n the time, and the _Tocsin_, a pamphlet of the\n day, as well as Tavannes, a main actor in the\n slaughter...2,000\n\n Aubign\u00e9, another Huguenot author, and Capilupi...3,000\n\n The estimates of ambassadors at Paris are higher.\n\n Alva's bulletin...3,500\n\n Gomez de Silva, and the Simancas archives...5,000\n\n Neustadt letter...6,000\n\n _R\u00e9veille-Matin_, a party pamphlet...10,000\n\nWhite bases his estimate on a curious calculation. An entry in\nthe registers of the H\u00f4tel de Ville states that on the 9th of\nSeptember certain persons received 15 livres for burying dead\nbodies, and on the 23d the same men received 20 livres for\nburying 1100. He concludes that the 15 livres represented 1500,\nby what rule he does not explain, \"giving,\" he says, \"a known\nmassacre of 2600.\" Even on his basis, 35 livres would really\nrepresent only 1925. But according to Caveirac, who first cites\nthis entry, 35 livres were paid for interring 1100, which would\ngive only about 1600 in all.\n\nGandy concludes his view of the matter by giving 1000 or 1200 as\nthe nearest approach to the truth; but the estimate of Tavannes,\nan actor, Kirkaldy, a witness, and the _Tocsin_, a Huguenot\npamphlet, would seem to be most authentic.\n\nThus fell the great admiral, the Cromwell of France, in religion\nless fanatical than hypocritical, a soldier of a high order,\naiming under Calvin's teaching to make France a commonwealth with\na religious tyranny that would brook no opposition. A man who\noccupied long a prominent position as one of the high nobility\nand rulers of the land, but who was simply a destroyer, not a\ncreator; for no great work, no line of sound policy, no important\nreform, is connected with his name. His life was most injurious\nto the country, and but for the cowardly and cruel circumstances\nattending his death, he would occupy but a subordinate place in\nFrench history. Few other victims were eminent: Peter Ramus, the\nlearned professor, Pierre de la Place, President of the Court of\nAns, and some say Goujon, the sculptor. In fact, the more able\nleaders of the party had not come to Paris, and this renders the\ndeed indefensible even on the ground of policy. The few nobles\nwho hastened to bask in the sunshine of the court, were not the\nmen most to be dreaded. The slaughter of men and women belonging\nto the lower classes could but rouse the sympathies of Europe.\n\nThe work of blood was not confined to Paris. Throughout France,\nas the news spread of a Huguenot conspiracy against the king, the\nscene was reenacted. Of this, White remarks: \"The writers who\nmaintain that the tragedy of Saint Bartholomew's day was the\nresult of a long premeditation support their opinion by what\noccurred in the provinces; but it will be found, after careful\nexamination, that these various incidents tend rather to prove\nthe absence of any such premeditation.\"\n\n{16}\n\nWere orders sent from court to massacre the Huguenots? White, on\nthe authority of Davila, De Thou, and expressions in certain\nletters, inclines to the opinion that verbal orders were sent.\nGandy as positively asserts that no such orders were given. The\nprovincial registers show no trace of such orders. Yet he admits\nsecret orders, subsequently recalled by Charles, and gives a\nletter addressed to Montsoreau, dated August 26th, which is\nexplicit. The massacres took place as follows: Meaux, August\n25th; La Charit\u00e9, August 27th; Saumur and Angers, August 29th;\nLyons, August 30th; Troyes, September 2d; Bourges, September\n15th; Rouen, September 17th; Romans, September 20th; Toulouse,\nSeptember 23d; Bordeaux, October 3d; Poitiers, October 27th. They\nwere thus continued from time to time for two months; long after\nCharles formally revoked any secret orders given on the spur of\nthe moment. This point is involved in as great obscurity as any\nother connected with the affair.\n\nSeveral letters current as to the matter, including those of De\nTende and Orthez, are manifest forgeries. As to Saumur, White\nrepresents Montsoreau as killing _all_ the Huguenots in that\ntown. The only authority, _M\u00e9moires de l'Etat de France_,\nsays he killed all he could, and the whole charge rests on this\nfeeble foundation. There is similar exaggeration elsewhere.\nWhite, speaking of Lyons, says: \"In this city alone 4000 persons\nare estimated to have been killed;\" but in his note adds that one\nauthority says that they were all killed in _one_ day,\n\"which is not probable.\" He then cites another contemporary\nbrochure setting down the total at Lyons at 1800; and he corrects\nthe error of De Thou, who asserted that the Celestine canons\nallowed Huguenots to be killed in their monastery, when\nProtestant authorities admit that the religious saved the lives\nof those very fugitives.\n\nWhat was the number slain in the provinces? The martyrologies, by\na detailed estimate, make those killed in Paris 10,000, elsewhere\n5168, and names 152 as identified in Paris, 634 in the provinces;\nbut the estimate for Paris is of the very highest, and should, as\nwe have seen, not exceed 2000. The very fact that, with\nresearches and personal recollections, only 152 names could be\nrecalled, being one in a hundred out of 10,000, while elsewhere\none in eight was known, is very suspicious. Taking his figures\nfor the provinces, it would reduce the whole number in France to\nabout 7000.\n\nAfter giving the calculations or guesses of various authors,\nranging from 2000 to 100,000, White says: \"If it be necessary to\nchoose from these hap-hazard estimates, that of De Thou is\npreferable, from the calm, unexaggerating temper of the man.\" De\nThou's estimate for all France was 30,000. Gandy thinks the\nnumber given by Popelini\u00e8re (2000) nearer the truth.\n\nUnder the examination of impartial history, the massacre of St.\nBartholomew dwindles really to far less in numbers, extent, and\nbrutality than the massacre of the Irish Catholics under\nCromwell; and does not greatly exceed the number of victims of\nthe Huguenot outbreak in 1563.\n\nOne other point remains. Charles, on the 25th, represented the\nmassacre in Paris as a collision between the houses of Guise and\nChatillon; but from the 26th he uniformly charges a conspiracy\nagainst his person. This he announced to all the foreign courts\nin explanation.\n{17}\nHis letter to Gregory XIII. announced the escape of the royal\nfamily and the punishment of the conspirators. The nuncio\nSalviati, in his letters, shows a belief in the reality of the\nplot. At Rome, the Cardinal of Lorraine, brother of the murdered\nGuise, was high in influence. What his views and feelings would\nbe on the receipt of the tidings of the discovery of a plot, and\nthe sudden action of the king, it is easy to conceive. In his\neyes it was a triumph of justice, religion, loyalty, and law. The\npope received the same impression, and under it proceeded to\nchant a _Te Deum_ at Santa Maria Maggiore. Processions\nfollowed. A medal, well known from its frequent reproduction, was\nstruck. But in all this there is nothing to show that Rome knew\nof the intended massacre or counselled it. Gregory XIII. approved\nit, only as represented in the brief despatches of Charles IX.\nand the verbal statements of Beauvill\u00e9, to which they refer.\n\nNor did the clergy in France take any part. No bishop shared in\nthe council, no priest or religious roused the minds of the\npeople. They figure, indeed, in romances, but history is silent.\nEven in the most virulent pamphlets of the time only three are\never mentioned, the Bishop of Troyes, Sorbin, king's confessor at\nOrleans, and Father Edmond Auger, at Bordeaux. The Bishop of\nTroyes is charged with having approved the massacre there, but\nWhite does not even name the bishop in connection with the\nmurders at that place, and says they were done by a drunken mob,\nand \"filled the humane Catholics with horror.\"\n\nAt Orleans, White reduces the 1850 of the _Martyrologe_ to\n1400, and gives details, but is silent as to any action of\nSorbin, or the terrible Franciscan who insulted the Huguenots,\nreceived their abjuration, and said Mass for them. Evidently,\nWhite found the charges against these clergymen too frivolous\neven for a stray allusion.\n\nHe attributes the massacre at Bordeaux to the preaching of Father\nAuger, but cites no authority. Fortunately, Auger is not an\nunknown man. His life has long been in circulation. He was a\nmissionary, known for years among the Protestants, amid whom he\nhad prosecuted his labors. He had suffered imprisonment for the\nfaith; he had even been led to the gallows by order of the Baron\ndes Adrets. So notorious were his charity, his virtue, and his\nmerit, that the voice of Protestant and Catholic alike was raised\nto save him. Are we to believe on the vaguest of grounds that\nsuch a man suddenly became a monster of intolerance? White\nblushed to give his authority; he should have been ashamed to\nmake the charge.\n\nBut it would scarcely do to let his book go forth without lugging\nin at least one priest. Of the proceedings at Rome he makes more\ncapital. After stating what was done, and mistranslating a Latin\nphrase to make Charles IX. an angel, he says: \"With such damning\nevidence against the Church of Rome, a recent defender of that\nchurch vainly contends that the clergy had no part in the\nmassacre, and that the rejoicings were over rebels cut off in the\nmidst of their rebellion, and not heretics murdered for their\nreligion.\" The logic of this is admirable. The pope and cardinals\nordered rejoicings on receiving despatches from the King of\nFrance, announcing that, having discovered a plot against his\nlife and throne, he had put the rebels to the sword;\n_therefore_ the Catholic clergy had a part in the massacre.\n\n{18}\n\nApply the same to Drogheda. Parliament thanked God for Cromwell's\nmassacre of the Irish after granting quarter, and rewarded a\ncaptain for throwing prisoners overboard at sea; _therefore_\nthe Puritan clergy had a part in the massacre, and the evidence\nis damning.\n\nThe labors of Mr. White, however, on the whole, will do good. The\nwild assertions that fill our school-books and popular histories\nmust give place to statements that will be justified by his work.\nIt gives a standard to which we may appeal, and, if not all that\nwe would claim, is so far on the way to impartiality that we may\nfeel thankful for it.\n\nIt is not little to have wrung from the London _Athenaeum_\nthe admission that the common view of St. Bartholomew is \"one of\nthe great historical errors which has been transmitted from\nteachers to taught during a long course of years.\"\n\n----------\n\n From the French of Erckmanm and Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n\n Chapter I.\n\nIf you would know the story of the great invasion of 1814, even\nas the old hunter, Frantz of Hengst, related it to me, you must\naccompany me to the village of Charmes, in the Vosges. Thirty\ncottages, ranged along the bank of the Sarre, and roofed with\nslate and dark green moss, compose the hamlet; you can see the\ngables garlanded with ivy and withered honeysuckle--for winter is\napproaching--and the leafless hedges separating the little\ngardens from each other.\n\nTo the left, crowning a lofty mountain, rise the ruins of the\nancient castle of Falkenstein, a fortalice, dismantled and\ndemolished two hundred years ago by the Swedes. It is now but a\nscattered heap of stones, only approached by an old\n_schlitte_, or road for transporting felled trees, which\npierces the forest. To the right, on the mountain-side, is seen\nthe farm of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, with its barns, stables, and sheds,\non the flat roofs of which are placed great stones, to enable\nthem to resist the furious northern blasts. A few cattle stray\nupon the heather, and a few goats clamber among the rocks.\n\nEverything is silent. Children in gray trousers, bare-headed and\nbare-footed, are warming themselves around little fires, kindled\nnear the edge of the wood, and the blue smoke curls slowly\nthrough the air; heavy white and gray clouds hang motionless over\nthe valley, and far above these rise the sterile peaks of\nGrosmann and Donon.\n\nYou must know that the last house of the village--that with two\nglazed dormer windows upon the slanting roof, and the low door\nopening upon the muddy street--belonged, in 1813, to Jean-Claude\nHullin, an ancient volunteer of '92; but since his return from\nthe wars, the shoe, or, rather, sabot-maker of the village, and\nenjoying a large share of the esteem of the mountaineers.\n{19}\nHe was a stout, strongly built man, with gray eyes, thick lips, a\nshort nose, and heavy, grizzled eyebrows. He was jovial and\ntender-hearted, and unable to refuse anything to his adopted\ndaughter, Louise, whom he had obtained, when an infant, from a\nband of those miserable gypsies who, without hearth or home\nthemselves, wander from door to door, soldering spoons and pans,\nand mending broken china. He, however, looked upon her as his own\ndaughter, and never remembered her as the child of a strange\nrace.\n\nBesides this, his affection for his little girl, stout\nJean-Claude had a few others. Next in order, he loved his cousin,\nthe venerable mistress of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, Catherine Lefevre, and\nher son, Gaspard, a fine young fellow, betrothed to Louise, but\nwhom the conscription had carried off, leaving the two families\nto await the end of the campaign and his return.\n\nHullin often recalled, and always with enthusiasm, his campaigns\nof the Sambre-and-Meuse, of Italy and of Egypt. He often mused\nupon them, and sometimes at evening, when his day's work was\ndone, he would wander to the saw-mill of Valtin, a gloomy\nbuilding, formed of logs covered with the bark, which you see\nyonder at the bottom of the gorge. There he would sit, in the\nmidst of coal-burners and wood-cutters, before the huge fire made\nof saw-dust, and while the heavy wheel kept turning, the sluice\nthundering, and the saw cutting, would he discourse of Hoche, of\nKleber, and of General Bonaparte, whom he had seen a hundred\ntimes, and whose thin face, piercing eyes, and aquiline nose he\ndrew over and over again.\n\nSuch was Jean-Claude Hullin, one of the old Gallic stock, loving\nstrange adventures and deeds of heroic emprise, but bound by the\nfeeling of duty to his toil from New-Year's day to Saint\nSylvester's.\n\nLouise, his gypsy daughter, was slight and graceful, with long,\ndelicate hands, and eyes of so tender a blue that their glance\nseemed to melt their way to the depths of your soul; her skin was\nwhite as snow, her hair a gold-shot flaxen, soft as silk, and her\nshoulders drooped like those of some sweet sculptured saint at\nprayer. Her guileless smile, her musing brow, her whole form,\nseemed to recall the antique lay of Erhart the Minnesinger,\nwherein he says: \"I saw a ray of light flash by, and mine eyes\nare yet dazed with its lustre. Was it the moon glancing through\nthe leaves? Was it morning smiling beneath the woods? No, no! It\nwas Edith, my love, who passed; and still mine eyes are dazed.\"\n\nLouise loved the fields, the gardens, and the flowers. In spring\nshe eagerly listened for the first notes of the lark, or sought\nthe bluebells beneath the bushes, or watched for the return of\nthe sparrows to the corners of the windows on the roof. She was\never the child of the wandering gypsies, only a little less wild\nthan they; but Hullin forgave everything; he understood her\nnature, and often cried, laughing:\n\n\"My poor Louise, with the booty you bring us--your bunches of\nflowers and little birds--we should all die of hunger in a week.\"\n\nBut she would only smile, and he, as he returned to his work,\nexclaim:\n\n\"Bah! why should I scold? She is right to love the sunlight, and\nGaspard will labor for both!\"\n\nSo reasoned the good man, and days, weeks, and months rolled by\nin patient waiting for Gaspard's return.\n\nBut Gaspard returned not, and now for two months they had had no\ntidings of him.\n\n{20}\n\nOne day, toward the middle of December, 1813, between three and\nfour o'clock in the afternoon, Hullin, bent over his work-bench,\nwas finishing a pair of spiked sabots for Rochart, the\nwood-cutter. Louise had placed her flowers near the little stove\nwhich crackled on the hearth, while the monotonous tick-tack of\nthe old village clock marked the seconds as they flew, and\noccasionally the tramp of clogs upon the frozen earth was heard\nwithout, and a head covered with a hat or wrapped in a hood\npassed the window. At length, Hullin, glancing through the panes\nof the window, suddenly stopped his labor, and stood with both\neyes wide open, as one gazing at some unusual sight.\n\nAt the corner of the street, just opposite the tavern of the\nThree Pigeons, a strange figure was advancing, surrounded by a\ncrowd of jumping, laughing boys, each vying with the other in\nshouting at the top of his voice: \"King of Diamonds! King of\nDiamonds!\" In truth, a stranger figure could scarcely be\nimagined. Fancy a man with a grave face and red beard; a gloomy\neye, straight nose, eyebrows meeting, a circlet of tin upon his\nhead, an iron-gray shepherd dog-skin flapping upon his back, the\ntwo fore-paws knotted around his neck; his breast covered with\nlittle copper crosses, his legs with a sort of gray stuff\ntrousers, and his feet bare. A large raven with lustrous black\nwings was perched upon his shoulder. One might think, from the\nmajesty of his air and gait, that an ancient Merovingian king had\ncome back to earth; and, indeed, he carried a short stick cut to\nthe shape of a sceptre, while with his right hand he gesticulated\nmagnificently, pointing to the skies and apostrophizing his\nattendants.\n\nEvery door opened as he passed, and curious faces were pressed\nagainst every window-pane. A few old women upon the outside\nstairs of their cottages called to him, but he deigned no reply;\nothers descended to the street and would have barred his passage,\nbut he, with head erect and brows haughtily raised, waved them\naside.\n\n\"Hold!\" said Hullin, \"here is Yegof. I did not expect to see him\nagain this winter, it is contrary to his habit; and what can he\nmean by returning in such weather as this?\"\n\nLouise, laying aside her distaff, ran to look at the King of\nDiamonds; for the appearance of the fool in the beginning of\nwinter was quite an event, and the source of amusement to many\nwho were glad to kill time in the taverns, listening to the story\nof his imaginary power and glory; others, especially women, felt\na vague fear of him; for the ideas of fools, as everybody knows,\nare sometimes drawn from another world than this--to them is\nconfided the knowledge of the past and future; the only\ndifficulty is in understanding them, for their words have always\na double sense--one for the ears of the coarse and vulgar, and\none, far different, for wise and lofty souls. Moreover, the\nthoughts of Yegof, above those of all other fools, were\nextraordinary--not to say sublime. No one knew whence he came,\nwhither he went; he wandered through the land like a soul in\npain; he vaunted the greatness of long extinct nations, and\ncalled himself Emperor of Austrasia, of Polynesia, and other\nfar-off places. Volumes might be written of the strength and\nbeauty of his castles, his fortresses, and his palaces, the\nnumber and grandeur of which he related with an air of much\nmodesty and simplicity. He spoke of his stables, his coursers,\nthe officers of his crown, his ministers, counsellors, and\nintendants, and never did he mistake their names or attribute the\nparticular merits of one to another; but he complained bitterly\nof having been dethroned by an accursed race, and Sapience\nCoquelin, the wise old woman of the village, as well as others,\nwept whenever he referred to the subject. Then would he, lifting\nhis hand toward heaven, cry out:\n\n{21}\n\n\"Be mindful, O women! The hour is at hand! The spirit of darkness\nflees afar! The ancient race, the masters of your masters, come\nsweeping on like the billows of the sea!\"\n\nEvery spring he wandered for weeks among the ruins which crown\nthe Vosges at Nideck, Geroldseck, Lutzelbourg, and\nTurkestein--former dwellings of the great ones of earth, but now\nthe refuge of bats and owls. There would he declaim on the long\npast splendor of his realms, and plan the subjection of his\nrevolted people.\n\nJean-Claude Hullin laughed at all this, not being fond of\napproaching the invisible world; but the fool's words troubled\nLouise exceedingly, especially when the hoarse voice and flapping\nwings of the raven added to their wild effect.\n\nYegof marched majestically down the street, turning neither to\nthe right nor the left, and the girl, seeing that his eyes were\nfixed upon her habitation, exclaimed:\n\n\"Father, father! he is coming here!\"\n\n\"Very likely,\" replied Hullin. \"He, no doubt, needs a pair of\nsabots in a cold like this, and if he asks them I should be sorry\nto refuse.\"\n\nYegof was some fifty paces from the cottage, and the tumult\ncontinued to increase. The boys, pulling at his strange garment,\nshouted, \"Diamonds! Spades! Clubs!\" till they were hoarse, when,\nsuddenly turning round, he raised his sceptre, and cried\nfuriously, though still with an air of majesty:\n\n\"Away! accursed race! away--or my dogs shall tear ye!\"\n\nThis threat only redoubled the cries and shouts of laughter; but\nat this moment, Hullin appearing at the door with a long rod, and\npromising its speedy application to the backs of five or six of\nthe noisiest, the band soon dispersed in terror, for many of them\nhad felt its weight. Then turning to the fool, he said:\n\n\"Come in, Yegof, and take a seat by the fire.\"\n\n\"Call me not Yegof,\" replied the latter, with a look of offended\ndignity. \"I am Luitprand, King of Austrasia and Polynesia.\"\n\n\"True, true, I remember,\" said Jean-Claude; \"but, Yegof, or\nLuitprand, come in. It is cold; try to warm yourself.\"\n\n\"I will enter,\" answered the fool, \"for reasons of state--to form\nan alliance between two most puissant nations.\"\n\n\"Good! Let us talk over it.\"\n\nYegof, stooping in the doorway, entered dreamily, and saluted\nLouise by lowering his sceptre. But the raven refused to follow.\nSpreading his broad black wings, he swept around the cottage and\nthen dashed against the windows, as if to break them.\n\n\"Hans!\" cried the fool, \"beware! I am coming.\"\n\nBut the bird of ill omen fastened its pointed talons in the\nleaden sash, and flapped its wings until the window shook, as\nlong as his master remained within. Louise gazed affrightedly at\nboth. Yegof seated himself in the large leathern armchair behind\nthe stove as on a throne, and throwing haughty glances around,\nsaid:\n\n\"I come straight from Jerome to conclude an alliance with thee,\nHullin. Thou art not ignorant that the face of thy daughter hath\npleased me. I am here to demand her in marriage.\"\n\n{22}\n\nLouise blushed, and Hullin burst into a peal of laughter.\n\n\"You laugh!\" cried the fool angrily. \"You will live to regret it!\nThis alliance alone can save thee from the ruin which threatens\nthee and thine. Even now my armies are advancing; they cover the\nearth, numberless as the forest leaves in summer. What will avail\nthe might of thy people against that of mine? Ye will be\nconquered, crushed, enslaved, as for centuries you were, for I,\nLuitprand, King of Austrasia and Polynesia, have willed it. All\nthings shall be as they were, and then--remember me!\"\n\nHe lifted his hand solemnly on high.\n\n\"Remember the past. You were beaten, despised serfs; and we--the\nold nations of the north--we trod your necks beneath our feet. We\nburdened your backs with heavy stones that our strong castles and\ndeep dungeons might be built. We yoked you to our ploughs; you\nfled before us like chaff before the tempest. Remember, and\ntremble!\"\n\n\"I remember it all well,\" replied Hullin, still laughing, \"but\nyou know we had our revenge.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said the fool, knitting his brows, \"but that time has\npassed. My warriors outnumber the sands of the shore, and your\nblood shall flow like rivers to the ocean. I know ye, and for a\nthousand years have marked ye!\"\n\n\"Bah!\" said Hullin.\n\n\"Yes, this arm vanquished ye when we first sought the hearts of\nyour forests. This hand bent your necks to the yoke, and will\nagain. Because you are brave, you think that you will be for ever\nmasters of France; but we have divided your fair land, and will\nagain divide it between ourselves. Alsace and Lorraine shall\nagain be German; Brittany and Normandy shall again belong to the\nNorthmen; Flanders and the South, to Spain. France will be a\npetty kingdom girdling Paris, with one of the ancient race its\nking, and you will not dare to murmur--you will be very patient--\nha! ha! ha!\"\n\nYegof laughed loudly in his turn.\n\nHullin, who knew little of history, was astounded at the fool's\nlearning.\n\n\"Bah!\" he exclaimed again. \"Enough of this, Yegof. Try a little\nsoup to warm your blood.\"\n\n\"I do not ask for food,\" replied the fool; \"I ask your daughter\nin marriage. Give her willingly, and I will raise you to the foot\nof my throne; refuse, and my armies shall take her by force.\"\n\nAs he spoke, the poor wretch gazed on Louise with looks of the\ndeepest admiration.\n\n\"How beautiful she is!\" he murmured. \"How her brow will grace a\ncrown! Rejoice, sweet maiden, for thou shalt be Queen of\nAustrasia.\"\n\n\"Listen, Yegof,\" said Hullin: \"I am flattered by your preference;\nand it shows that you know how to appreciate beauty; but my\ndaughter is already betrothed to Gaspard Lefevre.\"\n\n\"Enough!\" cried the fool, rising angrily, \"we will now speak no\nmore of it; but, Hullin,\" he continued, resuming his solemn tone,\n\"this is my first demand. I will twice renew it. Hearest thou?\nTwice! If you persist in your obstinacy, woe, woe to thee and thy\nrace!\"\n\n\"Will you not take your soup, then, Yegof?\"\n\n\"No!\" shouted the fool; \"I will accept nothing from you until you\nhave consented--nothing!\" And waving his sceptre, he sallied\nforth.\n\nHullin burst into another peal of laughter.\n\n{23}\n\n\"Poor fellow!\" he exclaimed; \"his eyes turned toward the pot in\nspite of himself; his teeth are chattering; but his folly is\nstronger than even cold and hunger.\"\n\n\"He frightens me,\" said Louise, blushing, notwithstanding, as she\nthought of his strange request.\n\nYegof kept on the Valtin road. Their eyes followed him as his\ndistance from them grew greater. Still his stately march, his\ngrave gestures, continued, though no one was now near to observe\nhim. Night was falling fast; and soon the tall form of the King\nof Diamonds was blended with and lost in the winter twilight.\n\n\n Chapter II.\n\nThe same evening, after supper, Louise, taking her spinning-wheel\nwith her, went to visit Mother Rochart, at whose cottage the good\nmatrons and young girls of the village often met, and remained\nuntil near midnight, relating old legends, chatting of the rain,\nthe weather, baptisms, marriages, the departure or return of\nconscripts, or any other matters of interest.\n\nHullin, sitting before his little copper lamp, nailed the sabots\nof the old wood-cutter. He no longer gave a thought to Yegof. His\nhammer rose and fell upon the thick wooden soles mechanically,\nwhile a thousand fancies roamed through his mind. Now his\nthoughts wandered to Gaspard, so long unheard of; now to the\ncampaign, so long prolonged. The lamp dimly lighted the little\nroom; without, all was still. The fire grew dull; Jean-Claude\narose to pile on another log, and then resumed his seat,\nmurmuring:\n\n\"This cannot last; we shall receive a letter one of these days.\"\n\nThe village clock struck nine; and as Hullin returned to his\nwork, the door opened, and Catherine Lefevre, the mistress of the\nBois-de-Ch\u00eanes farm, appeared on the threshold, to the\nastonishment of the sabot-maker, for it was not her custom to be\nabroad at such an hour.\n\nCatherine Lefevre might have been sixty years of age, but her\nform was straight and erect as at thirty. Her clear, gray eyes\nand hooked nose seemed to resemble the eyes and beak of the\neagle. Her thin cheeks and the drooping corners of her mouth\nbetokened habits of thought, and gave a sad and somewhat bitter\nexpression to her face. A long brown hood covered her head and\nfell over her shoulders. Her whole appearance bespoke a firm and\nresolute character, and inspired in the beholder a feeling of\nrespect, not untinged with fear.\n\n\"You here, Catherine?\" exclaimed Hullin in his surprise.\n\n\"Even I, Jean-Claude,\" replied the old woman calmly. \"I wish to\nspeak with you. Is Louise at home?\"\n\n\"She is at Madeleine Rochart's.\"\n\n\"So much the better,\" said Catherine, seating herself at the\ncorner of the work-bench.\n\nHullin gazed fixedly at her. There was something mysterious and\nunusual in her manner which caused in him a vague feeling of\nalarm.\n\n\"What has happened?\" he asked, laying aside his hammer.\n\n\"Yegof the fool passed last night at the farm.\"\n\n\"He was here this afternoon,\" said Hullin, who attached no\nimportance to the fact.\n\n\"Yes,\" continued Catherine, in a low tone; \"he passed last night\nwith us, and in the evening, at this hour, before the kitchen\nfire, his words were fearful.\"\n\n\"Fearful!\" muttered the sabot-maker, more and more astonished,\nfor he had never before seen the old woman in such a state of\nalarm. \"What did he say, Catherine?\"\n\n{24}\n\n\"He spoke of things which awakened strange dreams.\"\n\n\"Dreams! You are mocking me.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" she answered. And then, after a moment of silence,\nfixing her eyes upon the wondering Hullin, she continued:\n\n\"Last evening, our people were seated, after supper, around the\nfire in the kitchen, and Yegof among them. He had, as usual,\nregaled us with the history of his treasures and castles. It was\nabout nine o'clock, and the fool sat at the corner of the blazing\nhearth. Duchene, my laborer, was mending Bruno's saddle; Robin,\nthe herdsman, was making a basket; Annette arranging her dishes\non the cupboard; and I spinning before going to bed. Without, the\ndogs were barking at the moon, and it was bitter cold. We were\nspeaking of the winter, which Duchene said would be severe, for\nhe had seen large flocks of wild geese. The raven, perched on the\ncorner of the chimney-piece, with his beak buried in his ruffled\nfeathers, seemed to sleep.\"\n\nThe old woman paused a moment, as if to collect her thoughts; her\neyes sought the floor, her lips closed tightly together, and a\nstrange paleness overspread her face.\n\n\"What in the name of sense is she coming at?\" thought Hullin.\n\nShe resumed:\n\n\"Yegof, at the edge of the hearth, with his tin crown upon his\nhead and his sceptre laid across his knees, seemed absorbed in\nthought. He gazed at the huge black chimney, the great stone\nmantel-shelf, with its sculptured trees and men, and at the smoke\nwhich rose in heavy wreaths among the quarters of bacon. Suddenly\nhe struck his sceptre upon the floor, and cried out like one in a\ndream, 'Yes, I have seen it all--all--long since!' And while we\ngazed on him with looks of astonishment, he proceeded:\n\n\"'Ay, in those days the forests of firs were forests of oak.\nNideck, Dagsberg, Falkenstein--all the castles now old and ruined\nwere yet unbuilt. In those days wild bulls were hunted through\nthe woods; salmon were plenty in the Sarre; and you, the\nfair-haired race, buried in the snows six months of the year,\nlived upon milk and cheese, for you had great flocks on Hengst,\nSchneeberg, Grosmann, and Donon. In summer you hunted as far as\nthe banks of the Rhine; as far as the Moselle, the Meuse. All\nthis can I remember!'\n\n\"Was it not strange, Jean-Claude?\" said the old woman. \"As the\nfool spoke, I seemed, too, to remember those scenes, as if viewed\nin a dream. I let fall my distaff, and old Duchene and all the\nothers stopped to listen. The fool continued:\n\n\"'Ay, it was long ago! You had already begun to build your tall\nchimneys; and you surrounded your habitations with palisades\nwhose points had been hardened in the fire. Within you kept great\ndogs, with hanging cheeks, who bayed night and day.'\n\n\"Then he burst into a peal of crazy laughter, crying:\n\n\"'And you thought yourselves the lords of the land--you, the\npale-faced and blue-eyed--you, who lived on milk and cheese, and\ntouched no flesh save in autumn at your hunts--you thought\nyourselves lords of the mountain and the plain--when we, the\nred-bearded, came from the sea--we, who loved blood and the din\nof battle. 'Twas a rude war, ours. It lasted weeks and months;\nand your old chieftainess, Margareth, of the clan of the\nKilberix, shut up in her palisades, surrounded by her dogs and\nher warriors, defended herself like a she-wolf robbed of her\nyoung.\n{25}\nBut five moons passed, and hunger came; the gates of her\nstronghold opened, that its defenders might fly; and we, ambushed\nin the brook, slew them all--all--save the children. She alone\ndefended herself to the last, and I, Luitprand, clove her gray\nhead, and spared her blind father, the oldest among the old, that\nI might chain him like a dog to my castle gate.'\n\n\"Then, Hullin,\" said the old woman, \"the fool sang a long\nballad--the plaint of the old man chained to his gate. It was\nsad, sad as the _Miserere_. It chilled our very blood. But\nhe laughed until old Duchene, in a transport of rage, threw\nhimself upon him to strangle him; but the fool is strong, and\nhurled him back. Then brandishing his sceptre furiously, he\nshouted:\n\n\"'To your knees, slaves! to your knees! My armies are advancing.\nThe earth trembles beneath them. Nideck, Haut-Barr, Dagsberg,\nTurkestein, will again tower above you. To your knees!'\n\n\"Never did I gaze upon a more fearful figure; but seeing my\npeople about to fall upon him, I interposed in his defence. 'He\nis but a fool,' I cried. 'Are you not ashamed to mind his words?'\nThis quieted them, but I could not close my eyes the entire\nnight. His story--the song of the old man--rang through my ears,\nand seemed mingled with the barking of our dogs and the din of\ncombat. Hullin, what think you of it? I cannot banish his threats\nfrom my mind!\"\n\n\"I should think,\" said the sabot-maker, with a look of pity not\nunmixed with a sort of sorrowful sarcasm--\"I should think,\nCatherine, if I did not know you so well, that you were losing\nyour senses--you and Duchene and Robin and all the rest.\"\n\n\"You do not understand these matters,\" said the old woman in a\ncalm and grave tone; \"but were you never troubled by things of\nlike nature?\"\n\n\"Do you mean that you believe this nonsense of Yegof?\"\n\n\"Yes, I believe it.\"\n\n\"You believe it! You, Catherine Lefevre! If it was Mother\nRochart, I would say nothing; but you--!\"\n\nHe arose as if angry, untied his apron, shrugged his shoulders,\nand then suddenly, again seating himself, exclaimed:\n\n\"Do you know who this fool is? I will tell you. He is one of\nthose German schoolmasters who turn old women's heads with their\nMother Goose stories; whose brains are cracked with overmuch\nstudy, and who take their visions for actual events--their crazy\nfancies for reality. I always looked upon Yegof as one of them.\nRemember the mass of names he knows; he talks of Brittany and\nAustrasia--of Polynesia and Nideck and the banks of the Rhine,\nand so gives an air of probability to his vagaries. In ordinary\ntimes, Catherine, you would think as I do; but your mind is\ntroubled at receiving no news from Gaspard, and the rumors of war\nand invasion which are flying around distract you; you do not\nsleep, and you look upon the sickly fancies of a poor fool as\ngospel truth.\"\n\n\"Not so, Hullin--not so. If you yourself had heard Yegof--\"\n\n\"Come, come!\" cried the good man. \"If I had heard him, I would\nhave laughed at him, as I do now. Do you know that he has\ndemanded the hand of Louise, that he might make her Queen of\nAustrasia?\"\n\nCatherine could not help smiling; but soon resuming her serious\nair, she said:\n\n{26}\n\n\"All your reasons, Jean-Claude, cannot convince me; but I confess\nthat Gaspard's silence frightens me. I know my boy, and he has\ncertainly written. Why have his letters not arrived? The war goes\nill for us, Hullin; all the world is against us. They want none\nof our Revolution. While we were the masters, while we crowned\nvictory with victory, they were humble enough, but since the\nRussian misfortune their tone is far different.\"\n\n\"There, there, Catherine; you are wandering; everything is black\nto you. What disturbs me most is not receiving any news from\nwithout; we are living here as in a country of savages; we know\nnothing of what is going on abroad. The Austrians or the Cossacks\nmight fall upon us at any moment, and we be taken completely by\nsurprise.\"\n\nHullin observed that as he spoke the old woman's look became\nanxious, and despite himself he felt the influence of the fears\nshe spoke of.\n\n\"Listen, Catherine,\" said he suddenly; \"as long as you talk\nreasonably I shall not gainsay you. You speak now of things that\nare possible. I do not believe they will attack us, but it is\nbetter to set our hearts at ease. I intended going to Phalsbourg\nthis week. I shall set out to-morrow. In such a city--one which\nis, moreover, a post-station--they should have certain tidings\nof what is going on. Will you believe the news I bring back?\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\n\"Then it is understood. I will start early to-morrow morning. It\nis five leagues off. I shall have returned by about six in the\nevening, and you shall see, Catherine, that your mournful notions\nlack reason.\"\n\n\"I hope so,\" said she, rising; \"indeed I hope so. You have\nsomewhat reassured me, Jean-Claude, and I may sleep better than I\ndid last night. Good-night, Jean-Claude.\"\n\n\n Chapter III.\n\nThe next morning at daybreak, Hullin, in his gray-cloth Sunday\nsmall-clothes, his ample brown velvet coat, his red vest with its\ncopper buttons, his head covered with his mountaineer's slouched\nhat, the broad brim turned up in front over his ruddy face, took\nthe road to Phalsbourg, a stout staff in his hand.\n\nPhalsbourg is a small fortified city on the imperial road from\nStrasbourg to Paris. It commands the slope of Saverne, the\ndefiles of Haut-Barr, of Roche-Plate, Bonne-Fontaine, and\nGraufthal. Its bastions, advanced works, and demi-lunes run\nzigzag over a rocky plateau; afar off you would think you could\nclear the walls at a bound; a nearer approach shows a ditch, a\nhundred feet wide and thirty deep, and beyond the dark ramparts\ncut in the rock itself. All the rest of the city, save the\ntown-hall, the two gates of France and Germany with their pointed\narches, and the tops of the two magazines, is concealed behind\nthe glacis. Such is the little city, which is not lacking in a\ncertain kind of grandeur, especially when we cross its bridges,\nand pass its heavy gates, studded with iron spikes. Within the\nwalls, the houses are low, regularly built of cut stone in\nstraight streets. A military atmosphere pervades everything.\n\nHullin, whose robust health and joyous nature gave him little\ncare for the future, pushed gayly onward, regarding the stories\nof defeat and invasion which filled the air as so many malicious\ninventions.\n{27}\nJudge, then, of his stupefaction when, on coming in sight of the\ntown, he saw that the clock-tower stood no longer, not a garden\nor an orchard, not a walk or a bush could he see; everything\nwithin cannon-shot was utterly destroyed. A few wretches were\ncollecting the remaining pieces of their cottages to carry them\nto the city. Nothing could be seen to the verge of the horizon\nbut the lines of the ramparts. Jean-Claude was thunder-struck;\nfor a few moments he could neither utter a word nor advance a\nstep.\n\n\"Aha!\" he muttered at last, \"things are not going well. The enemy\nis expected.\"\n\nThen his warrior instincts rising, his brown cheeks flushed with\nanger.\n\n\"It is those rascal Austrians, and Prussians, and Russians, who\nhave caused all this,\" he cried, shaking his staff; \"but let them\nbeware! They shall rue it!\"\n\nHis wrath grew as he advanced. Twenty minutes later he entered\nthe city at the end of a long train of wagons, each drawn by five\nor six horses, and dragging enormous trunks of trees, destined to\nform a block-house on the Place d'Armes. Between drivers,\npeasants, and neighing, struggling, kicking horses, a mounted\n_gendarme_, Father Kels, rode grimly, seeming to hear\nnothing of the tumult around, but ever and anon saying, in a deep\nbase voice:\n\n\"Courage! my friends, courage! We can make two journeys more\nbefore night, and you will have deserved well of your country.\"\n\nJean-Claude crossed the bridge.\n\nA new spectacle presented itself within the walls. All were\nabsorbed in the work of defence. Every gate was open. Men, women,\nand children labored, ran, or helped to carry powder and shot.\nOccasionally, groups of three, four, or half a dozen would\ncollect to hear the news.\n\n\"Neighbors,\" one would say, \"a courier has arrived at full speed.\nHe entered by the French gate.\"\n\n\"Then he announces the coming of the National Guard from Nancy.\"\n\n\"Or, perhaps, a train from Metz.\"\n\n\"You are right. Sixteen-pound shot are wanting, as well as\ncanister. They are breaking up the stoves to supply its place.\"\n\nSome of the citizens, in their shirt-sleeves, were barricading\ntheir windows with heavy beams and mattresses; others were\nrolling tubs of water before their doors. Their enthusiasm\nexcited Hullin's admiration.\n\n\"Good!\" he cried, \"good! The allies will be well received here!\"\n\nOpposite the college, the squeaking voice of the sergeant,\nHarmantier, was shrieking:\n\n\"Be it known that the casemates will be opened, to the end that\neach man may bring a mattress and two blankets; and moreover,\nthat messieurs the commissioners are about to commence their\nround of inspection to see that each inhabitant has three months'\nprovisions in his house, which he must show: Given this twentieth\nday of December, one thousand eight hundred and thirteen. Jean\nPierre Meunier, Governor.\"\n\nStrange scenes, both serious and comic, succeeded every minute.\n\nHullin was no longer the same man. Memories of the march, the\nbivouac, the rattle of musketry, the charge, the shout of\nvictory, came rushing upon him. His eyes sparkled and his heart\nbeat fast, and the thoughts of the glory to be gained in a brave\ndefence, a struggle to the death with a haughty enemy, filled his\nbrain.\n\n\"Good faith!\" said he to himself, \"all goes well! I have made\nclogs enough in my life, and if the time has come to shoulder the\nmusket once more, so much the better. We will show these\nPrussians and Austrians that we have not forgotten the roll of\nthe charge!\"\n\n{28}\n\nThus mused the brave old man, but his exultation was not of long\nduration.\n\nBefore the church, on the Place d'Armes, were fifteen or twenty\nwagons full of wounded, arriving from Leipsic and Hanau. Many\npoor fellows, pale, emaciated, with eyes half-closed and glassy,\nor rolling in agony, some with arms and legs already amputated,\nsome with wounds not yet even bandaged, lay awaiting death. Near\nby, a few worn-out horses were eating their scanty provender,\nwhile their drivers, poor peasants pressed into service in\nAlsace, wrapped in their long, ragged cloaks, slept, in spite of\ncold, on the steps of the church. It was terrible to see the men,\nwrapped in their gray overcoats, heaped upon bloody straw; one\nholding his broken arm upon his knee; another binding his head\nwith an old handkerchief; a third already dead, serving as a seat\nfor the living. Hullin stood transfixed. He could not withdraw\nhis eyes from the scene. Human misery in its intensest forms\nfascinates us. We would see how men die--how they face death; and\nthe best among us are not free from this horrible curiosity. It\nseems to us as if eternity were about to disclose its secrets.\n\nOn the first wagon to the right were two carabineers in sky-blue\njackets--two giants--but their strong frames were bowed with\npain; they seemed two statues crushed beneath some enormous mass\nof stone. One, with thick red mustaches and sunken cheeks, glared\nwith his stony eyes, as if awakened from a frightful nightmare;\nthe other, bent double, his hands blue with cold, and his\nshoulder torn by a grape-shot, was becoming momentarily weaker,\nbut from time to time started up, muttering like one in a dream.\nBehind, infantrymen were stretched in couples, most of them\nstruck by bullets. They seemed to bear their fate with more\nfortitude than did the giants, not speaking, except that a few,\nthe youngest, shrieked furiously for water and bread. In the next\nwagon, a plaintive voice--the voice of a conscript--called upon\nhis mother, while his older comrades smiled sarcastically at his\ncry.\n\nNow and then a shudder ran through them all, as a man--or mayhap\nseveral--would rise, and with a long sigh fall back. This was\ndeath.\n\nWhile Hullin stood silent, the blood frozen in his heart, a\ncitizen, S\u00f4me, the baker, came forth from his house, carrying a\nlarge pot of boiled meat. Then you should have seen those\nspectres struggle, their eyes glance, their nostrils dilate; a\nnew life seemed to animate them, for the poor wretches were dying\nof hunger.\n\nGood Father S\u00f4me, with tears in his eyes, approached, saying:\n\n\"I am coming, my children. A little patience, and you will be\nsupplied.\"\n\nBut scarcely had he reached the first wagon, when the huge\ncarabineer with the sunken cheeks plunged his arm to the elbow in\nthe boiling pot, seized a piece of meat, and concealed it beneath\nhis jacket. It was done like a flash, and savage cries arose on\nall sides. Men who had not strength enough to move would have\nstrangled their comrade. He pressed the precious morsel to his\nbreast, his teeth were already in it, and he glared around like a\nwild beast. At the cries which arose, an old soldier--a\nsergeant--sprang from a neighboring wagon; he understood all at a\nglance, and without useless delay tore the meat from the\ncarabineer, saying:\n\n\"Thou deservest to have none. Let us divide; it will make ten\nrations.\"\n\n{29}\n\n\"We are only eight,\" said a wounded man, calm in appearance, but\nwith eyes glistening in his bronzed face. \"You see, sergeant,\nthat those two there are dying; it is no use to waste food.\"\n\nThe sergeant looked.\n\n\"You are right,\" he replied. \"Eight parts.\"\n\nHullin could bear no more. He fled, pale as death, to the\ninnkeeper, Wittmann's. Wittmann was also a dealer in leather and\nfurs, and cried, as he saw him enter:\n\n\"Ha! it is you, Master Jean-Claude; you are earlier than usual. I\ndid not expect you before next week.\" Then, seeing him tremble,\nhe asked: \"But what is the matter? You are ill.\"\n\n\"I have just been looking at the wounded.\"\n\n\"Ah! yes. The first time it affects one; but if you had seen\nfifteen thousand pass, as I have, you would think nothing of it.\"\n\n\"A glass of wine, quick!\" cried Hullin. \"O men, men! you who\nshould be brothers!\"\n\n\"Yes, brothers until the purse gives out,\" replied Wittmann.\n\"There, drink, and you will feel better.\"\n\n\"And you have seen fifteen thousand of these wretches pass,\" said\nthe sabot-maker.\n\n\"At least; and all in the last two months, without speaking of\nthose that remained in Alsace and on the other side of the Rhine;\nfor, you know, wagons could not be procured for all, and it was\nnot worth while removing many.\"\n\n\"Yes, I understand. But why are those unfortunates there? Why are\nthey not in the hospital?\"\n\n\"The hospital! Where are there hospitals enough for them--for\nfifty thousand wounded? Every one, from Mayence and Coblentz to\nPhalsbourg, is crowded; and, moreover, that terrible sickness,\ntyphus, kills more than the enemy's bullets. All the villages in\nthe plain, for twenty leagues around, are infected, and men die\nlike flies. Happily, the city has been for three days in a state\nof siege, and they are about to close the gates, and allow no one\nto enter. I have lost my uncle Christian and my aunt Lisbeth, as\nhale, hearty people as you or I, Jean-Claude. The cold has come,\ntoo; there was a white frost last night.\"\n\n\"And the wounded were in the street all night?\"\n\n\"No; they came from Saverne this morning, and in an hour or\ntwo--as soon as the horses are rested--they will depart for\nSarrebourg.\"\n\nAt this instant, the old sergeant, who had established order in\nthe wagon, entered, rubbing his hands.\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" he said, \"it is becoming cooler, Father Wittmann. You\ndid well to light the fire in the stove. A little glass of cognac\nwould not be amiss to take off the chill.\"\n\nHis little, half-closed eyes, hooked nose, separating a pair of\nwrinkled cheeks, and chin, from which a red tuft of beard hung,\nall gave the old soldier's face an expression of good humor and\njollity. It was a true military countenance--hale, bronzed by\nexposure, full of bluff frankness as well as of roguish\nshrewdness--and his tall shako and gray-blue overcoat,\nshoulder-belt, and epaulettes seemed part of himself. He marched\nup and down the room, still rubbing his hands, while Wittmann\nfilled him a little glass of brandy. Hullin, seated near the\nwindow, had, in the first place, remarked the number of his\nregiment--the sixth of the line. Gaspard, the son of Catherine\nLefevre, was in the same. Jean-Claude would, then, have tidings\nof Louise's betrothed; but when he attempted to speak, his heart\nbeat painfully. If Gaspard were dead! If he had perished like so\nmany others!\n\n{30}\n\nThe old sabot-maker felt strangled. He was silent. \"Better to\nknow nothing,\" he thought.\n\nNevertheless, in a few moments he again tried to speak.\n\n\"Sergeant,\" said he huskily, \"you are of the Sixth?\"\n\n\"Even so, my burgess,\" replied the other, returning to the middle\nof the room.\n\n\"Do you know one Gaspard Lefevre?\"\n\n\"Gaspard Lefevre? Parbleu! that do I. I taught him to shoulder\narms; a brave soldier, i' faith, and good on the march. If we had\na hundred thousand of his stamp--\"\n\n\"Then he is alive and well?\"\n\n\"He is, my citizen--at least he was a week ago, when I left the\nregiment at Fredericsthal with this train of wounded; since then,\nyou understand, there has been warm work, and one can answer for\nnothing--one might get his billet at any moment. But a week ago,\nat Fredericsthal, Gaspard Lefevre still answered roll-call.\"\n\nJean Claude breathed.\n\n\"But, sergeant, can you tell me why he has not written home these\ntwo months back?\"\n\nThe old soldier smiled and winked his little eyes.\n\n\"Do you think, my friend, that a man has nothing to do on the\nmarch but write?\"\n\n\"No; I have seen service. I made the campaigns of the\nSambre-and-Meuse, of Egypt and of Italy, but I always managed to\nlet my friends at home hear from me.\"\n\n\"One moment, comrade,\" interrupted the sergeant. \"I was in Italy\nand Egypt too, but the campaign just finished was in every\nrespect peculiar.\"\n\n\"It was a severe one, no doubt.\"\n\n\"Severe! Everything and every one was against us; sickness,\ntraitors, peasants, citizens, our allies--all the world! Of our\ncompany, which was full when we left Phalsbourg the twenty-first\nof January last, only thirty-two men remain. I believe that\nGaspard Lefevre is the only conscript left living. The poor\nconscripts! They fought well, but exposure and hunger did their\nbusiness.\"\n\nSo saying, the old sergeant walked to the counter and emptied his\nglass at one gulp.\n\n\"To your health, citizen. Might you, perchance, be Gaspard's\nfather?\"\n\n\"No; I am only a relative.\"\n\n\"Well, you can boast of being solidly built in your family. What\na man he is for a youth of twenty! He held firm while those\naround were sent by dozens to mount guard below.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Hullin, after a moment's silence, \"I do not yet see\nwhat there was so extraordinary in this last campaign, for we,\ntoo, had our sickness and traitors--\"\n\n\"Extraordinary!\" cried the sergeant; \"everything was\nextraordinary. Formerly, you know, a German war was finished\nafter a victory or two; the people then received you well; drank\ntheir white wine and munched their sauerkraut with you; and, when\nthe regiment departed, every one even wept. But this time, after\nLutzen and Bautzen, instead of becoming good-natured, they grew\nfiercer than ever: we could obtain nothing except by force; it\nwas like Spain or La Vend\u00e9e. I don't know what made them hate us\nso.\n{31}\nBut if we were all French, things would after all have yet gone\nwell; but we had our Saxon and other allies ready to fly at our\nthroats. We could have beaten the enemy, even if they were five\nto one, but for our allies. Look at Leipsic, where in the middle\nof the fight they turned against us--I mean our good friends the\nSaxons. A week after, our other good friends the Bavarians tried\nto cut off our retreat; but they rued it at Hanau. The next day,\nnear Frankfort, another column of our good friends presented\nthemselves, but we crushed the traitors. If we only foresaw all\nthis after Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, Wagram!\"\n\nHullin stood for a moment silent and thoughtful.\n\n\"And how do we stand now, sergeant?\" said he, at length.\n\n\"We have been driven across the Rhine, and all our fortresses on\nthe German side are blockaded. All Europe is advancing upon us.\nThe emperor is at Paris, arranging his plan of campaign. Would to\nheaven we could get breathing time until the spring!\"\n\nAt this moment Wittmann arose, and, going to the window, said:\n\n\"Here comes the governor, making his tour of inspection.\"\n\nThe commandant Jean-Pierre Meunier, in his three-cocked hat, with\na tri-colored sash around his waist, had indeed just made his\nappearance in the street.\n\n\"Ah!\" said the sergeant, \"I must get him to sign my marching\npapers. Excuse me, messieurs, I must leave you.\"\n\n\"Good-by, then, sergeant, and thank you. If you see Gaspard,\nembrace him for Jean-Claude Hullin, and tell him to write.\"\n\n\"I shall not fail.\"\n\nThe sergeant departed, and Hullin emptied his glass.\n\n\"Do you intend to start at once, Jean-Claude?\" asked Wittmann.\n\n\"Yes, the days are growing short, and the road through the wood\nis not easily found after dark. Adieu!\"\n\nThe innkeeper watched the old mountaineer from the window, as he\ncrossed the street, and muttered as he gazed at the retreating\nfigure:\n\n\"How pale he was when he came in! He could scarcely stand. It is\nstrange! An old man such as he--a soldier too! I could see fifty\nregiments stretched in ambulances, and not shake so.\"\n\n ----------\n{32}\n\n Translated From The Historisch-politische Bl\u00e4tter.\n\n Maria Von M\u00f6rl.\n\n\nIn the beginning of this year a remarkable human life came to a\nclose. That wonderful being whose name and fame travelled from\nSouth Tyrol all over Germany, and made her residence become a\nfrequented pilgrimage without her will--but for the great\nconsolation of multitudes during a whole generation--that\nextraordinary woman is no more. Maria von M\u00f6rl died on January\n11th, 1868, in the fifty-sixth year of her age, and in the\nthirty-sixth of her ecstatic life.\n\nIt is now over a score of years since the masterly pen of G\u00f6rres\nsketched, in his _Mystik_, so striking a portrait of Maria\nvon M\u00f6rl, and still the attention of the believing world is\nattracted to the life of the ecstatic virgin. Since then\nthousands have gone to the South Tyrol markets to behold as a\nreality what would sound legendary to read or hear, and to bear\ntestimony to the truth of what G\u00f6rres wrote about the stigmata of\nthat holy woman. All the pilgrims found his statements perfectly\ncorrect. Although G\u00f6rres, in describing the phenomena, abstained\nfrom a definitive judgment regarding her sanctity, according to\nthe rule that no one must be called a saint before death, we are\nnot restrained any longer from expressing our convictions, now\nthat she is no more. Her happy and holy death is the strongest\nconfirmation of her unimpeachable life.\n\nWe have now all the necessary documents to form a correct\nestimate of her holiness. Let us glance at the most interesting\nevents in her life, and sum up briefly and simply the chief\ntraits of her inner and exterior character.\n\nThree miles south of Botzen, in a charming landscape, with a\nprospect extending over a wide and smiling valley, lies the\nvine-crowned spot in which Maria Theresa von M\u00f6rl first saw the\nlight of day, on October 16th, 1812. She was the daughter of a\nreduced, but noble, vine cultivator in Kaltern, [Footnote 3]\nJoseph von M\u00f6rl, of M\u00fchlen and Lichelburg, who was blessed with a\nvery large family, but not with sufficient means to raise them as\nbecame their blood.\n\n [Footnote 3: Kaltern is the German for the Italian\n Caldaro.--Tr.]\n\nMaria received from her good, sensible mother, whose maiden name\nwas Selva, a pious and simple education; and the young girl grew\nup in virtue, modest and gentle, affectionate and obliging to\nall, of good understanding, but with no great powers of fancy.\nShe was an expert little housewife, and aided her mother in the\nmanagement of their domestic affairs. Frequent illness, which\nbegan to trouble her as early as her fifth year and continued to\naffect her through life, as it had its seat in her blood,\nrendered her, even at an early age, rather grave, and increased\nher zeal in prayer, which showed itself especially in her love\nand veneration for the Blessed Sacrament. This was her character\nuntil, in the year 1827, her beloved mother was taken from her by\ndeath; and she, at the age of fifteen, was left in sole charge of\nthe family, her father being unable to provide better for the\ncare of her eight younger sisters.\n{33}\nMaria undertook the task of their bringing up with courage and\nreadiness. She sought among her increasing labors and\nresponsibilities, more than ever, consolation in religion, and in\nthe frequent reception of the sacrament of the altar.\n\nBut the burden was too heavy for her young shoulders, and she\nsank under it. In her eighteenth year she fell into a wearisome\nsickness, which was increased in painfulness by reason of violent\ncramps, which broke down her constitution. Only by slow degrees\nwas her pain alleviated, without the disease having been\ncompletely driven out. She never became perfectly sound again.\nYet she bore all her afflictions with heroic resignation,\nalthough to her physical torments mental struggles were often\nadded temptations of the devil; and troubles of soul which we\ncannot dwell upon here. [Footnote 4]\n\n [Footnote 4: G\u00f6rres describes them fully in his _Christliche\n Mystik_, band iii.]\n\nSuch was her condition during about two years, when her\nconfessor, Father Capistran, a quiet, prudent man, and for years\na true friend of the distressed family, observed \"that at certain\ntimes, when she was interrogated by him, she did not answer, and\nseemed to be out of herself.\" When he questioned her nurses and\nothers on this point, they informed him that such was always the\ncase when she received the holy communion. This was the first\nsymptom of her _ecstatic_ state, into which she entered in\nher twentieth year, and which soon became more and more striking.\nOn the feast of Corpus Christi, 1832, which in Kaltern, as\nthroughout the whole Tyrol, is celebrated with unusual solemnity,\nFather Capistran, for special reasons, gave her the holy\nsacrament at three A.M., and immediately she fell into an ecstasy\nwhich lasted, to his personal knowledge, for several hours! He\nleft her to attend to other duties; and when he returned, at noon\non the following day, he found the ecstatic still kneeling in the\nsame place where he had left her thirty-six hours before; and\nheard, to his astonishment, that she had remained the whole time\nthus undisturbed in contemplation. The good Franciscan now\ncomprehended for the first time that ecstasy had become almost a\nsecond nature to her; and undertook the regulation of this\nsupernatural condition of his saintly penitent.\n\nThe power of the perceptive faculties increased wonderfully with\nher ecstasies, as several presentiments and prophecies\ndemonstrated in a surprising manner. Her fame was soon noised\nabroad. The report of her ecstatic kneeling and prayer spread\nthrough the Tyrol, and great excitement was created throughout\nthe whole land. Crowds of people flocked to see her, and to be\nedified by the sight. From different and distant places numbers\ncame as pilgrims to Kaltern. During the summer of 1833, more than\nforty thousand persons, of all classes, visited her, without the\nslightest disorder or scandal, although sometimes two or three\nthousand people in a day passed through the room of the rapt\nmaiden, kneeling undisturbed in contemplation. Many sinners were\nmoved and converted by the spectacle.\n\nNo one could explain the sudden and extraordinary commotion\nexcited in a whole people. The civil and ecclesiastical\nauthorities wished to prevent the concourse; so it was announced\nthat no further pilgrimages would be allowed. They gradually\nceased. The priests, however, bore testimony to the good results\nwhich had flowed from those pilgrimages.\n{34}\nIn the autumn of the same year, Francis Xavier Luschin,\nPrince-Bishop of Trent, caused an investigation to be made, and\nthe witnesses to be examined on oath, regarding the state of the\necstatic virgin, to prevent any further proceedings and\nannoyances on the part of the police, but especially to remove\nall suspicion of pious fraud. The prince-bishop, who was\nimpartial enough not to give a final decision, informed the civil\nauthorities \"that the sickness of Maria von M\u00f6rl was certainly\nnot holiness, but that her undoubted holiness could not be called\na sickness.\"\n\nAll this excitement was unknown to the cause of it, who remained\nundisturbed by the throngs who came to see her. Her inner life\nseemed to be completely developed in the year 1834, when she\nreceived the _stigmata_. How this happened is best told in\nthe words of G\u00f6rres himself: \"In the fall of 1833, the\nfather-confessor occasionally remarked that the centre of her\nhands, where the wounds appeared at a later date, began to fall\nin, and the places became painful and troubled with frequent\ncramps. He suspected that _stigmatization_ was about to\nhappen, and the result justified his expectations. At early Mass,\non February 4th, of the year 1834, he found her wiping her hands\nwith a cloth in childish astonishment. When he perceived blood on\nit, he asked her what was the matter. She answered that she did\nnot well understand what it was; that she must have cut herself\nin some strange way. But it was the stigmata, which from that day\nremained unchangeably in her palms, and soon appeared in her feet\nalso, as well as in her side. So simply did Father Capistran act\nin the whole affair, and so little desirous of wonder-seeking did\nhe show himself, that he never asked her what were her interior\ndispositions or phenomena immediately before the reception of the\nwounds. They were almost round, slightly oblong, about two inches\nin diameter, and appearing on both the upper and under parts of\nher hands and feet. The size of the lance stigma in the side,\nwhich only her most intimate female friends saw, could not be\ndetermined. On Thursday evenings and on Fridays, clear blood\nflowed in drops from the wounds; on the other days of the week, a\ndry crust of blood covered them, without the slightest symptoms\nof inflammation or the slightest traces of pus ever appearing.\nShe concealed most carefully her state, and all that might betray\nher interior emotions. But on the occasion of a festive\nprocession, in 1833, she fell into an ecstasy in the presence of\nseveral witnesses. She appeared like an angel, blooming like a\nrose. Her feet scarcely touching the bed, she stood up, with arms\noutstretched in the shape of a cross, and the stigmata in her\npalms manifest to all beholders.\" [Footnote 5]\n\n [Footnote 5: _Christliche Mystik_, ii. 501.]\n\nMaria von M\u00f6rl became a sister of the Third Order of St. Francis,\nand, in virtue of the obedience due to him, her confessor\nundertook to keep her ecstasies within due bounds. She promised\nhim complete obedience. A word from him recalled her to herself.\nBut his experience was very little. No one at home paid much\nattention to her. She was left very much alone. Her confessor was\na sensible man, but very simple and not at all inquisitive. The\ncircle of her spiritual phenomena rolled round within the\nordinary limits of the feasts of the church. Father Capistran did\nnot interfere at all in the singularities of her interior\ncondition, or even try to investigate their nature with\ncuriosity.\n{35}\n\"If she is not questioned,\" wrote the good and simple confessor\nto G\u00f6rres, \"she says very little, and seldom speaks at all; thus,\nfor instance, it is only to-day that I learned completely her\nvision of St. Paul--on the feast of his conversion. Only now and\nthen does she tell a particular circumstance, which I listen to\nquietly; and if she says nothing, I do not trouble her with\nquestions. She sometimes says to me, 'I cannot properly express\nwhat I see by word of mouth or by writing; and perhaps I might\nsay something false.' My direction is extremely plain: I want her\nto be always humble and devout to God; and I am satisfied when\nshe prays so fervently to God, and intercedes for others, for\nsinners as well as for the just. It always seems to me that it is\nnot the will of God that I should inquire too curiously about her\nvisions and revelations, as Brentano did with Emmerich.\" Thus\nwrote Father Capistran, who describes himself in his letter\nbetter than our pen could do it.\n\nIn September, 1835, G\u00f6rres came to Kaltern, in the Southern\nTyrol, where he saw frequently the _stigmatized_ girl, whose\nhealth was becoming every day worse. He found her in her father's\nhouse, lying in a neat, plain, whitewashed room, on a hard\nmattress, and covered with clean white linen. At the side of her\nbed was a little family altar; behind it, and over the windows,\nwere a few religious pictures. She had a delicate figure, of\nmedium height, and somewhat emaciated from the use of sparse\ndiet, yet not unusually thin. When he saw her for the first time,\nshe was in an ecstasy, kneeling on the lower part of her bed.\nG\u00f6rres describes her thus: \"Her hands, with the visible stigmata,\nwere folded on her breast; her face turned to the church, and\nslightly raised; her eyes having a look of complete absorption\nwhich nothing could disturb. No movement was perceptible in her\nkneeling form for a whole hour, except a gentle breathing,\noccasionally a muscular action of the throat as in swallowing,\nand sometimes an oscillatory movement of the head and body. She\nseemed as if looking into the distance, gazing in rapture at God,\nlike one of those angels who kneel around his throne. No wonder\nthat her appearance produced such a great effect on the\nbeholders, so as to bring tears to the eyes of the most hardened.\nDuring her ecstasy she contemplated the life and passion of\nChrist, adored the Blessed Sacrament, and prayed according to the\nspirit of the season of the ecclesiastical year. This we are told\nby her spiritual director. Her visions and revelations had all\nreference to something holy and ecclesiastical; and, unlike\nsomnambulists, she remained entirely blind, like other persons,\nto her own bodily state.\" (II. 504.)\n\nIn her natural condition, Maria von M\u00f6rl left the impression of\nher being a simple and candid child on those who visited her.\nG\u00f6rres gives a characteristic description of her: \"No matter how\ndeeply she may be lost in contemplation, a word of her confessor,\nno matter in how low a tone it may be uttered, recalls her from\nher rapture. There seems to be no medium condition; only\nsufficient time elapses to make her conscious of the word having\nbeen spoken, before she opens her eyes and becomes as\nself-possessed as if she were never in ecstasy. Her appearance\nbecomes immediately changed into that of a young child.\n{36}\nThe first thing she does on awaking from her ecstasy, if she\nperceives spectators, is to hide her stigmatized hands under the\nbed-clothing, like a little girl who soils her hands with ink,\nand tries to conceal them at the approach of her mother. Then she\nlooks curiously among the crowd, for she is now accustomed to the\nsight of multitudes, and gives every one a friendly greeting. As\nshe has been dumb for some time, she tries to make herself\nunderstood by gestures; and when she finds this method\nunsuccessful, she turns her eyes entreatingly, like an\ninexperienced child, to her confessor, to ask him to help her and\nspeak for her. The expression of her dark eye is that of joyous\nchildhood. You can look through her clear eyes to the very bottom\nof her soul, and perceive that there is not a dark corner in her\nnature for anything evil to hide in. There is nothing defiled or\ndeceitful in her character; no sentimentalism, no hypocrisy, nor\nthe slightest trace of any pride; but all in her is childlike\nsimplicity and innocence.\" (II.508.)\n\nClement Brentano bears a similar witness to her virtue when he\nvisited her at Kaltern, in 1835, and again in the harvest of\n1837. In one of his letters he says of her: \"Here lives the\nmaiden Maria von M\u00f6rl, who is now in her twenty-third year. She\nis a lovely, pious, and chosen creature. She is incessantly rapt\nin ecstasy, kneeling in bed, her hands outstretched or folded.\nShe is so wonderfully lengthened during her ecstasy, that one\nwould take her for a very tall person, though really she is quite\nshort. Her eyes remain open and fixed, and though the flies run\nover her eyelids, she moves them not. She is like a wax figure,\nand her look is striking. Now and then her spiritual director\ninterrupts her visions, and immediately she settles into repose\non her couch, but after a few minutes rises to her knees again.\nShe makes no effort to rise; she seems carried by angels into a\nkneeling posture. The whole appearance of this extraordinary girl\nis moving, yet not shocking, for the moment the priest commands\nher to resume her natural state, she becomes like one of the most\nsimple and innocent of children, as if she were not seven years\nold. The moment she perceives persons around her, she hides\nherself to the very nose under the bed-clothes, looks timorous,\nyet smiles on all around, and gives them pictures, preserving\nalways a serene and attractive countenance, like that of the\nblessed Emmerich.\" [Footnote 6]\n\n [Footnote 6: Clemens Brentano, _Gesammelte Briefe_, band\n ii. 326. He caused a likeness of her to be painted.]\n\nLike a child, she was fond of children, of birds and flowers. It\nwas observed that birds seemed to have a great liking for her.\nThey sang in flocks around her windows, and if they were brought\ninto her room they flew to her. On one occasion three wild doves\nwere given to her, and although they never allowed any one to\nfondle them before, they alighted on her, two of them on her\narms, and the third on her clasped hands, putting its bill to her\nmouth as she prayed. This beautiful scene was repeated for\nseveral days, until the doves were driven away. The same thing\nhappened with a chicken which a little sister of Maria's, a child\nof nine years old, accidentally brought into her chamber.\n\nIf friends were around her, she could sometimes remain mistress\nof herself and take part in their conversation; but this was only\nfor a short time, and she fell again into ecstasy. The passion of\nour Lord seemed to be the special object of her contemplation,\nand on Fridays especially she suffered agony in her mystical\nlife. In the forenoon her sufferings began to be noticeable.\n{37}\nAs the great drama of the crucifixion proceeded, its traces were\nvisible in her; her pains increasing until the hour of the death\non the cross, when her whole person became as if it were\nlifeless. G\u00f6rres paints, in his usual graphic style, all these\nphenomena, even to the most minute details. (P. 505-508.) For the\nsake of brevity, we shall quote only Brentano's words. As he was\nan eye-witness of what he narrates, he is perfectly reliable: \"I\nhave never seen anything more awful and astounding; all the\npatience, anguish, abandonment, and love of Jesus dying was\nrepresented in her with inexpressible truth and dignity. She is\nseen dying by degrees; dark spots cover her face, her nose\nbecomes pinched, her eyes break, cold sweat runs down her person,\ndeath struggles in her trembling bosom; her head is raised, while\nher mouth opens in pain; her neck and chin form almost a straight\nline, her tongue becomes parched, and is drawn up as if withered;\nher breathing is low and slightly gurgling; her hands fall\npowerless to her side, and her head sinks on her bosom. A priest,\nto whom Father Capistran, who was present, gave authority,\ncommanded her to repose. In a moment she lay fatigued, but calm\non her bed, and after about three minutes rose again to her\nknees, and returned thanks for the death of the Lord.\"\n\nThese phenomena were repeated every Friday throughout the year.\nHer sufferings became more and more extraordinary. In the year\n1836, it was observed that, on the Fridays after the ascension of\nChrist, when she finished her mystical agony, beginning at three\nP.M., she fell into a new ecstasy which lasted until half-past\nfour o'clock. Her body lay extended on her couch as on a cross,\nher arms outstretched as if powerfully wrenched; her head hung on\none side, bent somewhat back off her pillow, and unsupported by\nanything. Thus she remained sometimes two hours as if dead, and\ncould not be recalled without violent and painful convulsions.\nBut when she came back to her natural state, she was ever the\nsame innocent and gentle girl, as if she had never been blessed\nby God with extraordinary visitations.\n\nSo much had ecstasy become a second nature to her, that she was\nself-conscious only at intervals and by great efforts of the\nwill. During G\u00f6rres's stay at Kaltern, Maria was asked to stand\ngodmother for a newly born child. She accepted the invitation\nwith great joy, and took the most lively interest in the\nceremony; but during it she became ecstatic several times, and\nhad to be repeatedly recalled from her trance.\n\nYet with all this, she did not neglect the care of her family as\nfar as it lay in her power, and with the direction and counsel of\nher good confessor. Two o'clock in the afternoon was the hour\nappointed by him for her to attend to her household affairs. At\nthat hour she was commanded by him to leave her trance, and then,\nwith the greatest diligence, and with the care of a mother, she\ndirected business matters, dictated letters, and arranged all the\nnecessary temporal concerns with great prudence and good sense.\n\nIn the year 1841, she left her father's house, and went, in the\nbeginning of November, to live in the convent of the Sisters of\nthe Third Order of St. Francis, where, as one of its members, she\nreceived a separate dwelling next the church. Here she enjoyed\ngreat repose, for access to her became less easy, as visitors\nwere required to procure permission from the ecclesiastical\nauthorities to see her.\n{38}\nStill, pilgrimages did not cease; and the good influence\nexercised by her increased. Of the deep religious impression\nproduced by her ecstasies, the Bishop of Terni, Monsignor Vincent\nTizzani, speaks authoritatively in a pastoral letter published\nregarding Maria von M\u00f6rl in the year 1842. He had seen her, one\nFriday, in her ecstasy and agony, and he could not repress his\ntears at beholding the text so literally verified, \"I live; yet\nnot I, but Christ liveth in me.\" His testimony concerning the\nstigmata and the circumstances of her supernatural state agrees\nin every particular with that rendered by G\u00f6rres and Brentano\nseven years previously. Louis Clarus also, at that time a\nProtestant, afterward a Catholic, in his studies on mysticism,\nfelt compelled to render this witness concerning her. \"The force\nof truth and reality,\" says he, writing of his visit to Kaltern,\n\"impressed me so, that I felt necessitated, like the apostle\nJohn, to announce what I had heard, my eyes had seen, and my\nhands touched.\"\n\nMany others, among them Lord Shrewsbury, attest the same fact,\nevery succeeding witness confirming the testimony of his\npredecessor. [Footnote 7]\n\n [Footnote 7: _Letter from the Earl of Shrewsbury to Ambrose\n Lisle Phillips, Esq., descriptive of the Estatica of Caldaro\n and the Addolorata of Capriana_. London 1842.]\n\nA whole generation has passed since then, and no one has been\nable to contradict their statements, or explain the phenomena on\nany _natural_ principles. For thirty years every one could\nbehold her in ecstasy or agony, and see the wounds plainly on her\nhands and feet, while she remained ever humble, meek, modest as a\nchild, and intensely pious and holy. Her history could be written\nin two words: \"_She suffers, and contemplates_.\" She was a\npassion-flower clinging to the foot of the cross. In ecstasy she\nspent her life, contemplating the sufferings of Jesus Christ,\npraying for all, for the church, and for her native land; doing\ngood to countless poor people, alleviating their sorrows, like\nthe divine Master who dwelt in the recesses of her soul.\n\nThree years before her death she lost her confessor, Father\nCapistran, who had guided her soul for almost forty years. He was\na distinguished theologian, a good priest, and had been judged\nworthy to be chosen provincial of his order, the Franciscans. He\ndied on the 4th of May, 1865. She mourned his death like a child,\nand longed more than ever to be dissolved and be with Christ.\n\nHer wish was soon gratified. She became very weak in the autumn\nof 1867, and the numerous visits she was compelled to receive, as\nwell as the frequent requests made of her, completely prostrated\nher physical powers. The number of pilgrims to her \"Swallows'\nNest,\" as G\u00f6rres called her abode near the Franciscan church, was\nextraordinary; men, women, priests, and laity, all came to her\nshrine.\n\nThe measure of her physical suffering was full; but the measure\nof her mental anguish was not yet complete. On the 8th of\nSeptember, 1867, she was visited by a severe spiritual trouble.\nShe seemed to be struggling with some power of hell. She became\nsad, and as if forsaken by God, to such an extent that until\nSeptember 17th, and for weeks after, consciousness seems to have\nentirely left her. In this spiritual conflict she saw troops of\ndemons, which surrounded, attacked her, and threatened to carry\nher off to judgment. She saw and heard the fiends blaspheming all\nthings holy, and trying to bear even the most righteous away to\nthe abyss.\n{39}\nShe heard the devils scoff at her, and boast that they had the\npope in their power; that they had desecrated churches and\nconvents, and made wickedness thrive in the land. These\ntemptations and obsessions lasted from the middle of September to\nthe middle of October, when peace again returned to her soul.\nFrom the 23d of October she was able to receive the blessed\nsacrament regularly; the struggle was over; she had conquered,\nand was now at rest. When she was afterward interrogated\nregarding these obsessions, she said that, on the night of the\n7th of September, as she was praying for the pope and the\nemperor, the attack began. It was precisely at this time that the\ninvasion of the pope's temporal possessions by the Garibaldians,\nsanctioned by the Sardinian government, took place. The French\nexpedition was sent to the pope's relief toward the middle of\nOctober, just when Maria's soul obtained rest from demoniacal\naggressions; so that her personal affliction seems to have been a\nparticipation in the sufferings of the church.\n\nBut the light of her life was flickering in the socket. She had a\npresentiment of her death before it took place, and prophesied\noften that she would never pass the winter on earth. Toward All\nSaints' day her weakness became greater, and everything foretold\nher dissolution. She could no longer bear nourishment. Lemonade\nor water, with the essence of quinces, was almost her only\nnourishment for some weeks before her death. When she felt better\non certain days, she ate fruit, bread, or porridge, but never\nmeat or meat soup. She sometimes spent several days without\neating or drinking. In the last week, especially from Wednesday<\nshe suffered great torture. But she was full of resignation;\nindifferent to life or death, she never repined or murmured. She\nwas patient and full of calm resignation and infantile love. On\nthe feast of the Epiphany, five days before her death, she showed\nherself in her usual way to the pilgrims; there was a mission at\nKaltern, and the missionaries visited her on that festival, to\nbid her farewell. She received them with bland hospitality, and\noffered them grapes to eat.\n\nShe knew nothing positive about the precise moment of her death,\nbut only that she should die when everything on her became white.\nThe stigmata began gradually to disappear, leaving only a blue\nspot, which disappeared entirely after her departure. She\nreceived the viaticum on January 6th, in the evening. Every one\nthought she would die immediately; but she made known by gestures\nthat she should not die yet. She remained conscious, and was able\nto receive holy communion daily.\n\nAt last the day of her demise, January 11th, came. About\nhalf-past two on Saturday morning, two hours after communion, she\npassed from this vale of tears to her heavenly home. Her last\nagony was easy and calm. She lay quiet, occasionally murmuring\nthe name of Jesus; and one of the bystanders heard her say: \"Oh!\nhow beautiful; oh! how beautiful.\" Her breathing grew weaker, and\nshe fell gently asleep in death.\n\nHer body was exposed in the church for two days, and thousands\nvisited it. Many felt as if they had lost a member of their own\nfamily. She lay dressed as a bride, clothed in white, with a\nwhite veil on her brow, and a crown of flowers at her feet. Her\nface was beautiful to look upon, half-childlike in expression,\nyet mingled with the dignity of a matron; her head reclined, bent\ntoward the left side; her brow and eyes were full of dignity; her\nmouth like that of an infant smiling in sleep; her hands white as\nalabaster, and ruddy as roses.\n{40}\nAfterward the veil was taken away and she appeared more angelic\nthan ever, her rich flowing hair surrounding her noble head. A\nlook of perfect happiness beamed from her entire countenance.\n\nHer burial was solemn. Surrounded by mourning and edified\nmultitudes, her body was borne by young maidens from the\ncatafalque to the zinc coffin prepared for its reception. Her\nremains were taken on January 13th to her father's family vault\nat Kaltern, where they now rest in peace.\n\nKaltern lost its jewel in losing Maria; but her virtues will live\nfor ever in the hallowed spot where she was born, where she lived\nand died. Truly did G\u00f6rres write of her to the Prince-Bishop of\nTrent: \"God put her like a living crucifix on the cross-roads, to\npreach to a godless and dissipated people.\" She was one of those\nlamps lighted by the hand of God himself to shine in the\ndarkness, when infidelity is abroad robbing and devouring in the\nvineyard of Christ. For this purpose she was sent by God, and\nhence we may well expect that the wonderful supernatural\nphenomena of her ecstatic life will not cease with her death.\n\n ----------\n\n A Summer Shower.\n\n\n Welcome, O summer rain;\n To thirsty hill and plain,\n To desolate beds of streams of all their waves run dry.\n We know who sent thee forth\n From out the windy north,\n To trail thy cooling fountains through the sultry sky.\n\n The parch\u00e9d earth drinks up\n The crystal-flowing cup;\n The dusty grasses wash them emerald-green again:\n The sweet, drenched roses sigh\n In fragrant ecstasy;\n The truant brooks foam down their glistening beds amain.\n\n{41}\n\n The robins, full of glee,\n Answer from tree to tree;\n 'Neath dusky boughs the glancing orioles, aglow,\n Mimic the vivid play\n Of lightnings far away,\n That southward toss their fiery shuttles to and fro:\n\n While at the fall and lift\n Of lights and shadows swift,\n Titanic laughter rolls through all the bending skies,\n And every water-bead\n Trembles, but laughs, indeed,\n And every insect quicklier breathes as low he lies.\n\n O Heart! whose pity flows\n To cheer the languid rose.\n O Hand! outstretched to wake the brooklet's merry din,\n Behold me like a blot\n Upon this happy spot,\n Where joys knock at my door, but never enter in!\n\n Behold the arid ways\n Through which my weary days\n Tread with unfruitful steps that wander far from thee;\n The wasted heart and brain,\n All empty, save for pain;\n Behold the hidden thorn which thou alone canst see;\n\n And while my fainting sighs\n Through nature's hymn arise,\n O Comforter of flowers! leave not me to die!\n But send thy heavenly rain\n Unto my soul again,\n Even to me, as grieving in the dust I lie!\n\n ----------\n\n{42}\n\n Who shall take care of our Sick?\n\n\nWe have taken occasion, in recent numbers of _The Catholic\nWorld_, to present to our readers several of the works of\ncharity which appeal most strongly to Christian sympathy and ask\nfor Christian aid. In our articles on \"The Sanitary and Moral\nCondition of the City of New York\"--as but one, however, out of\nthe many cities of our land with like evils and like needs--we\ndirected attention to some lamentable features of the situation\nof the poor in our midst, and especially of the many thousands of\npoor and vagrant children growing up in neglect and consequent\nignorance and vice. The kindred matter of the condition and\nproper treatment of the inmates of our jails, prisons, and\npenitentiaries was touched upon in our last, under the head of\n\"Prison Discipline;\" and, again, that of the poor and unfortunate\nsubjects of mental ailments in the article on \"Gheel, a Colony of\nthe Insane.\" In the present number, we invite attention to\nanother branch of the subject, suggested by the inquiry at the\nhead of this article, \"Who shall take care of our sick?\"\n\nBy the sick, we mean all who by infirmity of body or mind are\nincapable of taking care of themselves; for the range of our\ninquiry embraces the helplessness of infancy, of decrepitude,\ninsanity, and idiocy, and extends even to prisoners and\ncriminals.\n\nBy _our_ sick, we mean the sick poor, the duty of providing\nfor whom devolves on collective society.\n\nBut as what is everybody's business is nobody's business, and as\nsociety, however imperfectly organized, has many distinct organs\nand recognized functions corresponding; it remains to be\ndetermined through what special ministry the suffering members of\nhumanity shall be succored and the erring reclaimed.\n\nIf the rich, and those whose social combinations have been\nsuccessful, are succored in their need by their families, their\nfriends, their servants; who constitute the families, the\nfriends, the servants, of the poor and isolated? This is a\nquestion which pagan societies have evaded, or insolently\nanswered, _Vae victis!_ Religion alone, and only in so far\nas Christ's spirit has penetrated mankind, has given, through its\norders of charity, a fair and candid answer--an answer in deeds\nas well as words. For many centuries in Christendom, this answer\nappeared satisfactory in its spirit and intent. Not even the\ninsane were left out of the Christian fold--witness the Colony of\nGheel--and it only remained to extend, and multiply, and perfect\nthe works of charity, in proportion as science and art added to\nthe resources of society.\n\nBut the Protestant \"Reformation\" came, sweeping away the work of\npious ages, confounding uses with abuses, and upset the whole\nadministration of charity by the servants of Christ, along with\npublic and religious hospitality: in changing the privileged\norders, it confided to secular hands the doling out of such\npittance to the destitute as the fear of insurrection compelled,\nand still compels, from the reluctant economy of self interest.\n\n{43}\n\nA revival of Christianity in Protestant countries now opens the\npublic mind to the horrors and crimes against humanity\nperpetrated, in the name of charity, in their \"work-houses,\"\n\"alms-houses,\" hospitals, and asylums; it leads to the recall and\nrenewal of religious orders devoted to the care of the sick and\nother classes needing charity. This has not been merely a\nbrilliant corruscation, like the rescue which Florence\nNightingale carried to the British troops in the Crimea. Miss\nNightingale had previously been trained for years in the\nreligious order of the Kaiserwerth, a normal school of nurses,\nand the movement, inaugurated by her, continues in England as the\n\"Institution of St. John.\" A number of religious works, of high\nmerit and extensive usefulness, are described among the\n_Charities of Europe_, by De Liefde. [Footnote 8]\n\n [Footnote 8: Published by Strahan: New York and London.]\n\nIn New York, we have the Hospital of St. Luke, ministered to by\npious Episcopal ladies, who, like the _Soeurs Grises_ of\nmediaeval Europe, take no vows, and may marry, yet for the time\nbeing perform the same functions as our Sisters of Charity or of\nMercy.\n\nWhile attesting a tendency in Christendom to recover the ground\nlost by the \"Reformation,\" such institutions as we have cited are\nstill very trivial in numbers and power; and though small\nappropriations of public funds have been made to them, neither\nthey nor the principles which they represent have been officially\nrecognized by states or cities. There is, on the contrary, a\njealous opposition to admitting, even to the service of the sick\npoor, who are mostly Europeans and Catholics, as at Bellevue, the\nSisters of Charity; and one of its most eminent surgeons, who\nknows by experience how precious is their aid, has declared to us\nwith regret his conviction that this salutary measure could not\npass. To obviate the prejudices that withhold the administration\nof charity from its own votaries, whose noble emulation would\nutilize the differences of sect or order for the common good; to\nshow that the State will find in this restoration economy, at the\nsame time with social or moral advantages, while Christ will be\nmore worthily served; to make it felt that the burden of human\nsorrows will be lightened, and the redemption of our race from\nevil promoted, by re-allying piety with charity, is the purpose\nwe have now in view.\n\n\"_Suum cuique tribuito,_\" \"Give to each his own.\" Two chief\norders of power exist in society--interest and sentiment. The\nnatural sphere of interest is confined to material property or\ngoods of the senses; that of sentiment embraces the relations of\n_persons_, that is, of beings considered as hearts and\nsouls; so that sentiment culminates in devotion, and ranges love\nand consanguinity, friendship and honor, in the ministries of\nreligion, expanding the selfhood of the individual by the\nconsciousness of his solidarity with the race, and through Christ\nwith our Father in heaven.\n\nStill, practically, the functions of each power are distinct. It\nis admitted, in regard to the divers organizations of fire\ncompanies, for instance, that the payment of fixed salaries is an\nefficient or adequate motive for the protection of houses. This\nservice was once confided to public spirit; there was no lack of\nheroic devotion in its exercise; but salaried firemen were found\nto be more amenable to discipline, and their organizations to be\nmore permanent and reliable.\n{44}\nNow, the contrary is true of hospital service and kindred\nfunctions, which employ in some places the religious orders of\ncharity, in others hired assistants. Physicians, patients, and\ninspectors, all proclaim the superiority of the former. Visit our\ngreat secular establishments, such as Bellevue or the Charity\nHospital, where the service is either hired or compulsory by\nconvicts, and then the hospitals of religious orders, even the\npoorest, such as that of the Sisters of the Poor of St. Francis,\nwhich is supported by begging from door to door, not to mention\nthe more richly endowed hospitals of St. Vincent de Paul or St.\nLuke, all free to every needy patient: scent the air of the\nwards, share the food of the refectory, feel the human magnetism\nof these spheres, take time and mood to appreciate all their\nconditions, and you will find their difference amount to a\ncontrast in many essentials of hygiene, physical as well as\nmoral, although science is impartially represented at the secular\nas at the religious establishments. The former have been largely\nendowed by private and public benefaction; energy, ability, and\ngood will are not wanting among their officers; yet they inspire\nsuch aversion that the decent poor will often rather perish than\nresort to them.\n\nThe characteristic superiority of religious charities is\nhistorical, and remounts to the earliest epochs of Christendom;\nalthough the secular interest of states in the health and\ncontentment of their peoples has been the same in all times and\nall countries. If their conduct has been different, the reasons\nof this difference may be found in the nature of their religions\nand the fervor or torpor of their piety.\n\nConversely, just in proportion as our modern states alienate\ntheir \"public charities\" from the influence of religion, they\nbecome perverted by the same cruelty and heartlessness that\ncharacterized the behavior of the pagan world toward its\nunfortunate classes. Between the philanthropy of the English\nworkhouse and that of Rome which sent poor slaves to perish on\nthe \"_dismal island_\" in the Tiber, the shorter course seems\npreferable to us, because less degrading to the soul of the\nvictim, and because it has the courage, at least, of its crime.\n\nThe Emperor Maximianus, who shipped a cargo of beggars out to sea\nand drowned them, was still more complete in this economy of\nsuffering. Disease and misery, decrepitude and helpless infancy,\nhave each in turn become the object of such elimination, which\nignores tenderness toward the individual; but the process has\nnever stopped where it might have been justified, in a manner, by\nthe substitution of healthier and stronger or more perfect, for\nless perfect individuals among the representative types of the\nspecies. No; the same spirit that sacrificed the feeblest,\nrevelled in the destruction of the strongest men in its\ngladiatorial arenas. Even in the restricted sense of patriotism,\nwhich had contributed so many devotions on the altar of the\ncountry, in the heroic days of Greece and Rome, solidarity had\nceased to be matter of practical conscience in the pagan world of\nthe great empire. The Hebrews had developed it only as a tribal\nand family principle. Where has it ever been a social life-truth,\nunless in the fold of Christ's disciples? and where has this been\npractically organized, except by its religious orders?\n\n{45}\n\nThe inconsistencies of war excepted, we see life and personal\nliberty becoming more sacred from age to age, even amid the\ncorruptions of advanced civilization in Christendom; whereas, on\nthe contrary, in pagan civilizations \"the springs of humane\nfeeling in every ancient nation, like the waters of the fountain\nof the sun, were warm at dawn of morning, but chilled gradually\nas the day advanced, till at noon they became excessively cold.\"\n\nWhen the development of intelligence in civilized communities\nrenders them conscious of needs and of resources outlying the\ncircles of family providence; one of their first Christian\nmovements is to care for their disabled members, stricken by\ndisease or wounds from the army of the working poor.\n\nIn our monster cities, the hospital acquires gigantic\nproportions, and political economy meets humanity in the research\nfor a system which shall afford the greatest mitigation of\ninevitable suffering and the best chances of restoring the\nsufferers to social uses.\n\nIn this research, charity has anticipated experimental science,\nand to the religious orders belongs the honor of fulfilling the\nhighest ideal of this sacred function.\n\nThe organization of hospitals contains for modern civilization\nand for cosmopolite New York problems of the highest practical\nimport, which especially interest the Christian church.\n\nWhat has been hitherto effected under the social pressure of\nextreme necessity, whether to avert the generation and diffusion\nof pestilence, or the shame of allowing millions of the poor to\nperish in their squalid misery, is still painfully inadequate to\nmeet the needs of humanity at points where Europe disgorges her\nmiseries upon America. New institutions are annually struggling\ninto existence to supply this demand. Among the most important by\ntheir social and religious nature are those of the Sisters of the\nPoor of Saint Francis, which may serve as a type of what we would\nurge concerning the superiority of piety and charity--those\ndaughters of the Christian church--over secular calculations, in\nthis work.\n\nFew, small, and poor as are the hospitals of this order in\nAmerica, they shine by the spirit which animates them, by the\nnaked purity of their Christian faith, and its works, that\nconfront the world now, precisely as they did eighteen hundred\nyears ago. [Footnote 9]\n\n [Footnote 9: This order of the \"Sisters of the Poor of Saint\n Francis\" has been introduced already into several of our\n larger cities, and with much promise of success. Houses of\n their order exist in Cincinnati, in Brooklyn, in Hoboken, and\n elsewhere, and, more recently, have been established here in\n New York.\n\n If they shall have the wisdom--the church's wisdom of old and\n of all time, and the spirit which has always animated and\n characterized her workings--to adapt themselves to the\n country, to its needs and requirements, to its speech, and\n (so far as compatible with piety) to its habits and customs,\n they will doubtless receive vocations, will grow in numbers,\n will be able to accomplish much in alleviating the sufferings\n of humanity, and will do no small share of the great work of\n bringing the Catholic Church rightfully before the American\n people.\n\n We subjoin the following deserved tribute to their house here\n in New York, which we find in the _Evening Post_, of\n August 13th.:\n\n \"Saint Francis Hospital.\n\n \"To the Editors of the _Evening Post_:\n\n \"I venture to affirm that at least nine tenths of the good\n people of this great city are entirely ignorant of the\n existence of the Hospital of Saint Francis in our midst.\n Indeed, with my long and generally intimate knowledge of the\n various benevolences of the city, I was not at all aware of\n this institution, until a kind lady who has been a warm\n friend of the House of Industry acquainted me with the fact a\n few days since, and in her company I had the pleasure of\n visiting the hospital. For several reasons I beg your\n permission to say a few words about it in the _Evening\n Post_.\n\n \"It is located on Fifth and Sixth streets, between Avenues B\n and C, being the two brick dwellings Nos. 407 and 409 Fifth\n street, and the one immediately in the rear of No. 173 Sixth\n street. It is under the care of the 'Sisters of the Poor of\n Saint Francis,' and is a free hospital for both sexes,\n without distinction as to creed, and its inmates comprise\n Catholics, Protestants, and Jews. The means for purchasing\n this property were obtained by the solicitations of the\n sisters from door to door. I think the order of Saint Francis\n originated in Germany, where it still has its headquarters.\n Most of the sisters here are German, though there are\n certainly one or two exceptions. The accommodations are\n altogether inadequate, and not at all well adapted to the\n purposes. The patients are cheerful and happy, and there is\n every evidence that all the efforts of these sisters arise\n from the most pure and unselfish motives, and that there is\n not the least constraint in regard to religious matters\n resting upon the inmates. There is a very small chapel in the\n establishment, the attendance upon which is wholly voluntary.\n The commonest services are performed by the sisters, and,\n Puritan Protestant as I was educated, I could but admire the\n devotion and kindness of these women. I believe their charity\n is a true and unselfish one; that they are animated by his\n Spirit who went about doing good, and they should be well\n supported in their work.\n\n \"The patients are of all ages and nationalities, perhaps a\n more than usual average of Germans. I was particularly\n interested in two of the wards, one for the 'grandfathers'\n and the other for the 'grandmothers,' both of them filled\n with quite aged people. Many of the patients seemed to be\n incurables, and have a permanent home in the Saint Francis.\n The good sisters have secured a large plot of ground on which\n they purpose erecting a building of much greater capacity\n than those they now occupy, and thoroughly adapted to the\n objects of the institution. For this object they will need\n large contributions, which I earnestly hope will be promptly\n furnished. The following is a general summary of the past\n year:\n\n Number of patients treated in Hospital,\n (males, 484; females, 108).............593\n\n Discharged, cured or improved............423\n\n Died......................................88\n\n Remaining December 31, 1867...............81\n\n \"I have written out this simple statement, because it is\n always pleasant for me to commend all right agencies working\n for the comfort of the sick poor, and because, comparatively\n isolated as these women are, they have special claim to\n sympathy and assistance; and also, because they are\n Catholics, I am glad of an opportunity to show that\n Protestants can appreciate what is good, no matter who\n originates it.\n\n \"S. B. Halliday.\"]\n\n{46}\n\nArrogant, imposing, and splendid in Broadway, the lusts of power\nand greed which the poor world now serves show the reverse of the\npicture in the indigent swarms which vegetate a little way east\nfrom First avenue. Passing from the hot-beds of luxury and their\nexhaustive reactions of improvident misery, enter the Hospital of\nthe Sisters of the Poor of Saint Francis, on Fifth street, near\nAvenue B. Its extreme neatness in the midst of squalor, its\nsweetness amid corruptions, atmospheric and social, its severe\nsimplicity of self-renunciation, shaming the complex artifices of\nour cupidity, its devotion so consistent, so persistent, as the\nstream of charity ascends toward its fountain-level in the\nheights of faith; all smite upon the heart with the manifest\npresence of Jesus. Its inmates attest with a grateful enthusiasm\nthe kindness there lavished upon them. The voices of prayer and\npraise consecrate the wholesome food to bodily uses; the\nsweetness of fellowship in Christ pervades all its relations and\ndignifies the humblest offices. Here are no hired nurses;\nlife-devotion supplies all. The iniquities of civilization or the\ndiscrepancies between the soul's ideal and the world's possible,\nmay defeat nature's fondest intentions of personal destiny in\nlove and maternity for individual lives; but as \"the stone which\nthe builders rejected, the same shall become the head of the\ncorner,\" so the career of charity opens to all who live in Christ\na higher sphere of espousals and of motherhood, pure from the\ndross of selfishness.\n\nOne who observes the practical working of this institution must\nsoon be convinced that it possesses neither time nor inclination\nfor other arts of proselyting, than the attractive emanations of\na glowing, earnest life of love and duty. Fourteen sisters\nsupport and care for more than a hundred patients, and even add\nto the domestic and ward service that of the pharmacy. The\npatients receive daily visits from a physician and a clergyman.\n\"We know,\" say the sisters, \"that, when the body is sick, the\nsoul suffers, and that spiritual consolation often does the body\nmore good than the best medicines.\" Books are provided for those\nable and willing to read. Attendance at the chapel is optional.\nThere are regular services on Sunday. The patients are of diverse\ncreeds, as of diverse nations. This hospital is often preferred\nby Protestants, and even by Jews; for those who suffer go where\nthey find hearts to sympathize with and hands to help them.\n{47}\nThey see that the poor sisters have nothing for their labors but\ntheir simple food and clothing. More is not allowed by the rules\nof their order, that they may the more disinterestedly apply\nthemselves to the care of the poor and suffering sick, the\nsupport of whom and other expenses of the institution depend upon\nthe daily collections and labors of the sisters themselves.\"\n(_Report_ for 1867.) This noble ignorance of all\ndistinctions of creed and sect is the common attribute of the\nSisters of Charity. Those who serve the Hospital of St. Vincent\nde Paul, an older and wealthier charity than that of the Sisters\nof St. Francis, one of the most creditable, indeed, in our\ncountry, open its doors alike to sufferers of all denominations.\n\nIn regard to the matter of practical economy and saving to the\nstate, from placing its hospitals, and other like institutions,\nunder the care of the religious orders, we are permitted to give\nthe following extract from a letter from a Catholic lady of\nCincinnati:\n\n \"The only public institution we as yet have which is supported\n from the public purse is the prison, managed by the Good\n Shepherds. In his annual report, the mayor always praises their\n economy and excellent management, but he has never had the\n magnanimity to publish the thousands annually saved, in\n comparison with the old _r\u00e9gime_. Their salaries are fixed\n at $100 a year for six sisters--$600, which is $100 less than\n the pay of a single policeman. The sisters have the entire\n management of the prison. The Harris School is in full\n operation. The house can receive no more than about fifty-five.\n Colonel Harris, the founder, a Protestant, always expresses his\n surprise at _the little outlay_. Our own experience shows\n an immense economy, as well as superior moral influence in the\n effects of our charities, so beneficial in softening the hearts\n of the poor.\"\n\nWe may here take occasion to remark that a religious order\naffords guarantees of honest administration in a higher degree\nthan any individual can do by his personal responsibility. The\nlegal security, or values pledged, may be equal; but in one case\nthere is at stake only a business responsibility, in which it is\noften regarded as smart to outwit a committee of inspection;\nwhile, on the other hand, corporate honor is involved, and the\nofficer entrusted with funds is doubly responsible to the\ncommittee of inspection, and to the order of which he or she is a\nmember, under the more extended affiliation of the church.\n\nMoreover, the discipline of the religious orders is very rigorous\non the chapter of economies, and there are not by any means the\nsame opportunities or temptations for an officer to divert funds\nfrom public to private uses. The inspectors themselves will often\nbe Protestants.\n\nIt behoves us to examine the use of hospitals in the general\nsystem of humanitary functions. The hospital is a corollary of\nthe city. The city is a gland or glandular system of elaboration\nfor the social and intellectual secretions of humanity--arts,\nsciences, and refinements. But the advantages of the city are\nobtained only by great sacrifices; among which is the separation\nof great numbers of persons from their local and family\nattachments, obliging them to derive their subsistence from\nindustries more precarious than those of rural life. More wisdom\nbeing required to direct one's course in the complex relations of\nthe city, more are bewildered, misled, overwhelmed; vast and\npowerful currents of crime and of waste are generated, and\nrestorative measures are needed to counteract them.\n{48}\nNow, the necessity of cities and that of hospitals being\nadmitted, how, let us ask, can this kind of help be rendered,\nthis sort of duty performed, so as most worthily to attest the\nprinciple of human solidarity, so as to benefit most the\nrecipients of charity, to honor most the organs by which charity\nis rendered, and so secure the best kind of service in this\narduous function; finally, how best to economize the resources of\ncollective society in the adaptation of means to ends?\n\nFirst, let us consider the expediences of public charity,\nespecially in reference to the persons or characters of its\norgans.\n\nThe best interest of society demands that there shall be a place\nfor every one, and every one in his place; or, in other words,\nthat as specific vocations are inherent to each type of\ncharacter, so _that_ use should be allotted to each for\nwhich nature supplies the aptitudes, and which it embraces with\nardor.\n\nThe attractiveness of certain functions< or the aversion\noccasioned by them, has very little to do with the impression\nthey make on the senses of a party indifferent. The cares\nrequired by an infant, for example, which excite maternal zeal in\nall its plenitude, appear simply tedious and disgusting to most\nmen. So it is with the care of the sick, in which science and\naffection find powerful attachments insensible to others, who,\ngood in other ways, feel no vocation for it. Finally, and beyond\nall special vocations, there is the enthusiasm of devotion, the\nreligious instinct to which Christianity appeals, which it\nawakens in many souls, and which it justifies in affording to it\nthe highest spheres of use. The contemplative idealist may try to\nescape the normal limitations of his nature in vague aspiration;\nbut Jesus has provided against this Brahminic perversion by the\nculture of charity, in identifying the love of God with the love\nof the neighbor, and himself with the least of mankind. \"As long\nas you did it to one of these my least brethren, you did it to\nme.\" (St. Matthew xxv. 40.)\n\nWe do not suppose that Christianity endowed human nature with\nphilanthropy as a new passion; it gave this aspect, this\nevolution, this modality, to what had been patriotism for the\nheroic states of Rome, of Greece, and other nations, which had\nalways sought, and sometimes found, a social channel, but which\nChristianity more fully satisfied in the theory and practice of\nunity.\n\nThere have always been developed, in proportion with the\nindustrial progress of civilization, wants extraordinary without\nbeing fantastic. Such are the cares of illness. The wisdom of\nChristian charity has adapted to these extreme wants vocations\nequally extreme, in the devotion of religious orders; and this\nduty has devolved especially upon the female sex, because it is\nbetter gifted than the male for the ministry of compassion.\n\nIt is feasible, moreover, for religious orders to accept as well\nthe penitent as the virgin; and shaming the world's intolerance,\nto rescue from sin and disgrace a lower world of souls, whom\npassion or imprudence had otherwise ruined.\n\nThere is no depth of crime, indeed, from which its subjects may\nnot be rescued by charitable labors; and in proportion as their\norganization is extended and perfected, legal as well as simply\nmoral offences may find here at once their prevention and their\nexpiation. The brothel and the penitentiary, those two\ninstitutions of hell on earth, may thus be countermined, and the\nmeans of redemption afforded to their victims.\n{49}\nThe salutary influence which the discipline of charitable works\nexerts over mental and moral aberrations, may even reclaim not a\nfew of the insane, or those who, under ordinary circumstances,\nare drifting fatally toward the lunatic asylum.\n\nThat extraordinary virtue which the impulse and exercise of\nactive benevolence has in developing the soul and awakening its\nlatent powers from torpor, may appear from the following incident\nlately observed at Mr. Bost's, in Laforce, Dordogne:\n\nOne day a poor girl, deaf, dumb, blind, paralytic, and epileptic,\nwas brought to Bethesda. \"It required some courage,\" says the\nnarrator, Mr. De Liefde, \"to fix one's eyes on that miserable\ncreature, with her dried-up, contracted limbs, her repulsive\nface, the features of which were constantly contorted in the most\nhideous manner. Well, an idiot took charge of that child, guarded\nand nursed it, and stood by its death-bed to administer to it the\nlast solace of love! And such was the indefatigable care and even\nintelligent thoughtfulness with which she tended her poor\nhelpless charge that Mr. Bost said, 'When I lie on my death-bed,\nI shall count it a blessing to be nursed in this way.' I do not\nwonder at such hearts being able to understand what is the\nmeaning of the simple sentence, 'God loveth you,' long before the\nintellect is able to catch the difference between two and three;\nnor can I be surprised at what Mrs. Castel told me, that the same\nchildren who do not know whether a shoe ought to be on the foot\nor on the head, or who, if not prevented, would, like beasts,\nwalk on all fours and lick the dirt, may yet sometimes be heard\nejaculating, '_Mon Dieu! prends piti\u00e9 de moi. J'en at bien\nbesoin_.'\n\n\"Long before they could catch the idea of shifting a piece of\nwood from the right hand to the left, they gave evidence of being\npleased by an act of kindness, and of being grateful for a\nbenefit bestowed on them.\n\n\"In the year 1854, a girl who was a perfect idiot stood, one day,\nin Mr. Bost's lobby. The aspect of the hideous-looking little\ncreature was so sickening that Mr. Bost could not permit her to\nbe taken into the establishment, but still less could he send her\naway. If ever there was a subject for compassionate, saving love,\nit was here. The power of prayer and the perseverance of charity\ncould now be put to the test. Mr. Bost resolved to keep the girl\nin his own house. The doctors declared it perfect folly. During\nthree months, all his efforts to strike a spark of intellect out\nof this flint proved a total failure. But one evening, at\nworship, while the hymn was being sung, he heard an articulate\nand harmonious tone proceed from the brutishly shaped mouth. The\nchild evidently tried to put its voice in accord with the sounds\nwhich it was hearing. Mr. Bost is a musician, and at once applied\nhis talent to the benefit of his unhappy pupil. Under the\nsoftening and cheering influence of harmony, it was affecting to\nsee how, first with painful struggles, and then, with growing\nease, the mind of the child emerged from the dark deep in which\nit had been confined. By little and little, the idiot succeeded\nin uttering articulate sounds, then in uniting them into\nsyllables, and finally into words. At the same time, her health\nimproved visibly, her nervous system became less irritable, her\nface assumed more and more a rational expression. She began to\nshow joy and surprise when receiving something that was agreeable\nto her. Then tokens of gratitude and of affection followed.\n{50}\nIn short, after a lapse of two years, the idiot had disappeared\nto make room for a child which appeared to be behind but a few\nyears only, when compared with other children of her own age. At\npresent, that same child, formerly beneath the level of the\nbrute, speaks well, sews, and knits, and might be the teacher of\nchildren less sunken in idiocy than herself when she first set\nfoot on Mr. Bost's threshold.\"\n\nSuch was the spirit and such the conduct which determined\nmediaeval Europe to entrust the religious orders with vast landed\npossessions, and with these the whole care of the poor, of the\nsick, and of the wayfarer, duties which they discharged with\ngreater satisfaction to the people than any secular aristocracy\nof privilege known in the records of history.\n\n\"For the uncertain dispositions of the rich, for their occasional\nand often capricious charity, was substituted the certain, the\nsteady, the impartial hand of a constantly resident and unmarried\nadministrator of bodily as well as spiritual comfort to the poor,\nthe unfortunate, and the stranger.\"\n\nNow, still the question presses, whether, instead of confiding\nour sick to hired nurses, we shall not invite the willing\nsisterhood to extend their organization among us, and sustain\nthem in this devotion. It is well ascertained that none can make\na thousand dollars go so far as they can in the service of their\nsick.\n\nIt is notorious in America, that public works undertaken by the\ngovernment are generally ill done and very wastefully. Hence,\ncommon sense excludes the government from enterprises of internal\nimprovement, and confides them either to individuals or\ncompanies, without hesitating thus to create privileged orders\nand to favor a moneyed aristocracy.\n\nTo have a great work well done, passions as well as interests\nmust be engaged in it; personal character, pride, and ambition,\nas well as skill and capital; and where many persons must\nco-operate, there is no guarantee of harmony in action and of\nsuccessful result so sure as that corporate zeal which religion\nemploys with so much power, and which religion alone can bring to\nbear. This is indeed a holy fire, enkindled and kept alive upon\nobjects of charity, that purges away dross.\n\nIf the Catholic Church has in all ages conducted her enterprises\nwith the greatest success, it is because she has known how to\nenlist the greatest number of motives, the strongest and the\nbest. On the other hand, it will be readily confessed that the\ngreat public hospitals under secular control do not even bring\ninto play the common levers of interest which secure results in\nthe management of railroads, of hotels or banking-houses, nor\nthose of ambition, which animate the army and navy. Charity, as a\nsecular business, is always poorly paid, rendered grudgingly,\ndistastefully, and so as to excite aversion. Many will rather die\nthan have recourse to it. It always carries with it a certain\nstigma of inferiority and contempt. No personal character or\ncorporate zeal is identified with it, still less can there exist\nthat unison of feeling and of effort which places the seal of the\ndivine humanity on such institutions as those of the sisters. We\ntranscribe from one of the most remarkable works of modern\ntravel, _The Pillars of Hercules_, by David Urquhart, his\nimpression of the last remaining hospitals of the religious order\nin Spain. Let us note that Mr. Urquhart is an Englishman and a\nProtestant:\n\n{51}\n\n \"The Hospicio of Cadiz is at once a poor-house and a house of\n industry, a school, a foundling hospital, a hospital, and a\n mad-house; that is, it supplies the places of all these\n institutions. It is imposing in its form, embellished in its\n interior, and as unlike in all its attributes and effects as\n anything can be to the edifices consecrated to the remedying of\n human misery, by our own charity and wisdom.\n\n \"Hospital De La Sangre, (Seville.)\n\n \"This is a noble edifice, composed of several grand courts and\n of two stories; the lower one for summer, and the upper one for\n winter. I think I may say that to each patient is allotted at\n least four times as much space as in any similar European\n establishment, and the very troughs in which the dirty linen is\n washed are marble: the patients have two changes of clean linen\n in the week. The kitchens are all resplendent with painted\n tiles and cleanliness, and there seemed abundance of excellent\n food. In these institutions, in Spain, the inmates are\n completely at home. Soft and blooming girls, with downcast look\n and hurried step, were attending upon the poor, the maimed, and\n the suffering. The lady-directress had told the servant who\n accompanied me to bring me, after my visit, to her apartment,\n which was a hall in one of the corners of the building; she\n said she had heard that England was celebrated for its charity,\n and asked if our poor and sick were better off than in Spain. I\n was obliged to confess that the reverse was the case. She asked\n me if it was not true that we hired mercenaries to attend on\n the sick, and abstained from performing that duty ourselves;\n and if our charity was not imposed as a tax? She told me that\n there were eight hundred of her order in Spain; that it was the\n only one that had not been destroyed; that none were admitted\n but those of noble birth or of gentle blood; and that they took\n all the vows except that of seclusion, and in lieu of it took\n that of service to the poor and sick. The Saint Isabelle of\n Murillo was the model of their order. The Hospital de la Sangre\n was founded by a woman.\"\n\nMrs. Jameson [Footnote 10] pays a just tribute to the Hospital\nLariboissi\u00e8re, in Paris, \"a model of all that a civil hospital\nought to be--clean, airy, light, lofty, above all, cheerful. I\nshould observe,\" she says, \"that generally in the hospitals\nserved by Sisters of Charity, there is ever an air of\ncheerfulness, caused by their own sweetness of temper and\nvoluntary devotion to their work. At the time that I visited this\nhospital, it contained six hundred and twelve patients, three\nhundred men and three hundred and twelve women, in two ranges of\nbuilding divided by a very pretty garden. The whole interior\nmanagement is entrusted to twenty-five trained sisters of the\nsame order as those who serve the H\u00f4tel Dieu. There are, besides,\nabout forty servants, men and women, men to do the rough work,\nand male nurses to assist in the men's wards under the\nsupervision of the sisters. This hospital was founded by a lady,\na rich heiress, a married woman too. She had the assistance of\nthe best architects in France to plan her building, while medical\nand scientific men had aided her with their counsels.\"\n\n [Footnote 10: _Sisters of Charity,\n Protestant and Catholic_.]\n\nIn the _General Report on the Condition of the Prisons of\nPiedmont, to the Minister of the Interior_, we find this\nparagraph:\n\n{52}\n\n \"It is an indisputable fact that the prisons which are served\n by the sisters are the best ordered, the most cleanly, and in\n all respects the best regulated in the country. To which the\n minister of the interior adds: Not only have we experienced the\n advantage of employing the Sisters of Charity in the prisons,\n in the supervision of the details, in distributing food,\n preparing medicines, and nursing the sick in the infirmaries,\n but we find the influence of these ladies on the minds of the\n prisoners when recovering from sickness has been productive of\n the greatest benefit, as leading to permanent reform in many\n cases, and a better frame of mind always; for this reason,\n among others, we have given them every encouragement.\n\n \"Among the other reasons alluded to, the greater economy of the\n management is a principal one. It is admitted, even by those\n who are opposed to them, that, in the administration of\n details, these women can always make a given sum go further\n than the paid officials of the other sex. Their opposition to\n the sale of wine and brandy to the prisoners, except when\n prescribed by the physicians, is also worthy of note.\n\n \"One of the directors of the great military hospital at Turin\n told Mrs. Jameson that he regarded it as one of the best deeds\n of his life, that he had recommended and carried through the\n employment of the Sisters of Charity in this institution.\n Before the introduction of these ladies, the sick soldiers had\n been nursed by orderlies sent from the neighboring barracks,\n men chosen because they were unfit for other work. The most\n rigid discipline was necessary to keep them in order, and the\n dirt, neglect, and general immorality were frightful. Any\n change was, however, resisted by the military and medical\n authorities till the invasion of the cholera; then the\n orderlies became, most of them, useless, distracted, and almost\n paralyzed with terror. Some devoted Sisters of Charity were\n introduced in a moment of perplexity and panic; then all went\n well--propriety, cleanliness, and comfort prevailed. No day\n passes, said this director, that I do not bless God for the\n change which I was the humble instrument of accomplishing in\n this place. Very similar was the information received relative\n to the naval hospital at Genoa.\n\n \"Another excellent hospital, that of St. John, at Turin,\n contained four hundred patients, male and female, besides its\n ward for sick children, and two for the bedridden and helpless\n poor, the whole being under the management of twenty-two\n religious women with forty-five assistants, and a large number\n of physicians and students. All was clean, neat, and cheerful.\n I was particularly struck by the neatness with which the food\n was served; men brought it up in large trays, but the ladies\n themselves distributed it. There was a little dog with its\n forepaws resting on one of the beds and its eyes steadfastly\n fixed on the sick man, with a pathetic, wistful expression,\n while a girl knelt beside him, to whom one of the sisters was\n speaking words of comfort.\n\n \"In this and other hospitals is an excellent arrangement for\n the night-watch. It was a large sentry-box of octagon shape,\n looking each way, the upper part all of glass, but furnished\n with curtains, and on a table were writing materials,\n medicines, and restoratives, linen napkins, etc. Two sisters\n watched here all night; here the accounts were kept, and\n privacy secured, when necessary, for the ladies on duty.\n\n \"The Marchese A----, one of the governors of the Hospice de la\n Maternit\u00e9, described to us in terms of horror the state in\n which he had found the establishment when under the management\n of a board of governors, who employed hired matrons and nurses.\n{53}\n At last, in despair, he sent for some trained sisters, ten of\n whom, with a superior, now directed the whole in that spirit of\n order, cheerfulness, and unremitting attention which belongs to\n them.\n\n \"We cannot,\" he said, \"give them unlimited means, for these\n good ladies think that all should go to the poor; but if we\n allow them a fixed sum, we find they can do more with it than\n we could have believed possible, and they never go beyond it;\n they are admirable accountants and economists.\n\n \"In the great civil hospital at Vienna, larger even than the\n Hotel Dieu of Paris, the Sisters of Charity were being\n introduced some twelve years ago when Mrs. J. visited it.\n\n \"The disorderly habits and the want of intelligence in the paid\n female nurses had induced the managers to invite the\n co-operation of the religious sisters, though it was at first\n against their will. In the Hospital of Saint John, at Salzburg,\n the same change had been found necessary.\n\n \"At Vienna, I saw a small hospital belonging to the Sisters of\n Charity there. Two of the sisters had settled in a small old\n house. Several of the adjoining buildings were added one after\n the other, connected by wooden corridors. In the infirmary I\n found twenty-six men and twenty-six women, besides nine beds\n for cholera. There were fifty sisters, of whom one half were\n employed in the house, and the other half were going their\n rounds among the poor, or nursing the sick at private houses.\n There was a nursery for infants whose mothers were at work; a\n day-school for one hundred and fifty girls, in which only\n knitting and sewing were taught, all clean, orderly, and, above\n all, cheerful. There was a dispensary, where two of the sisters\n were employed in making up prescriptions, homoeopathic and\n allopathic. There was a large, airy kitchen, where three of the\n sisters, with two assistants, were cooking. There were two\n priests and two physicians. So that, in fact, under this roof,\n we had the elements, on a small scale, of an English workhouse;\n but very different was the spirit which animated it.\n\n \"I saw at Vienna another excellent hospital for women alone, of\n which the whole administration and support rested with the\n ladies of the Order St. Elizabeth. These are _cloistered_.\n All sick women who apply for admission are taken in, without\n any questions asked, so long as there is room for them. I found\n there ninety-two patients, about twenty of whom were ill of\n cholera. In each ward were sixteen beds, over which two sisters\n presided. The dispensary, which was admirably arranged, was\n entirely managed by two of the ladies. The superior told me\n that they have always three or more sisters preparing for their\n profession under the best apothecaries, and there was a large\n garden principally of medicinal and kitchen herbs. Nothing\n could exceed the purity of the air, and the cleanliness, order,\n and quiet everywhere apparent.\"\n\nLet us remark certain features in these last two examples:\n\n1. The possibility of recreation by a timely change of labors, as\nfrom the hospital to the school, or to the garden, etc.\n\n2. The economy, and guarantee of genuineness, afforded by the\nculture and pharmaceutic preparation of medicinal herbs.\n\n3. The unison of action, by fulfilment of sanitary functions by\nmembers of their own body.\n\n{54}\n\n \"It was admitted on all sides in England, when investigations\n were held on the office of hospital nursing, that the general\n management of our hospitals and charitable institutions exhibited\n the want of female aid such as exists in the hospitals abroad--\n the want of a moral, religious, intelligent, sympathizing\n influence combined with the physical cares of a common nurse.\n Some inquiry was made into the general character of hospital\n nurses, and the qualifications desired, and what were these\n qualifications? Obedience, presence of mind, cheerfulness,\n sobriety, forbearance, patience, judgment, kindness of heart, a\n light, delicate hand, a gentle voice, a quick eye; these were the\n qualities enumerated as not merely desirable, but necessary in a\n good and efficient nurse--virtues not easily to be purchased for\n \u00a314 10S. per year! (or hired at $14 a month in New York [Footnote\n 11])--qualifications, indeed, which, in their union, would form\n an admirable woman in any class of life, and fit her for any\n sphere of duty, from the highest to the lowest. In general,\n however, the requirements of our medical men are much more\n limited; they consider themselves fortunate if they can ensure\n obedience and sobriety, even without education, tenderness,\n religious feeling, or any high principle of duty. On the whole,\n the testimony brought before us is sickening. Drunkenness,\n profligacy, violence of temper, horribly coarse and brutal\n language--these are common, albeit the reverse of the picture is\n generally true. The toil is great, the duties disgusting, the\n pecuniary remuneration small, so that there is nothing to invite\n the co-operation of a better class of nurses but the highest\n motives which can influence a true Christian. At one moment the\n selfishness and irritability of the sufferers require a strong\n control; at another time their dejection and weakness require the\n utmost tenderness, sympathy, and judgment. To rebuke the\n self-righteous, to bind up the broken-hearted, to strengthen, to\n comfort the feeble, to drop the words of peace into the disturbed\n or softened mind just at the right moment; there are few nurses\n who could be entrusted with such a charge, or be brought to\n regard it as a part of their duty. To this social function\n corresponds the Sister of Charity, as defined by St. Vincent de\n Paul, an ideal so often fulfilled in life and action.\n\n [Footnote 11: This is the salary of orderlies at Bellevue\n Hospital, where the duties are often so arduous that one\n attendant would be quite inadequate to the care of twenty\n beds but for the aid rendered by patients to each other. The\n night-watch passes but once in two hours.]\n\n \"Can any one doubt that the element of power, disunited from\n that of Christian love, must, in the long run, become a hard,\n cold, cruel machine, and that this must of necessity be the\n result where the masculine energy acts independently of the\n feminine sympathies?\n\n \"All to whom I have spoken, without one exception, bear witness\n to the salutary influence exercised by the lady nurses in the\n Crimea over the men. In the most violent attacks of fever and\n delirium, when the orderlies could not hold them down in their\n beds, the mere presence of one of these ladies, instead of\n exciting, had the effect of instantly calming the spirits and\n subduing the most refractory. It is allowed, also, that these\n ladies had the power to repress swearing and coarse language,\n to prevent the smuggling of brandy and raka into the wards, to\n open the hearts of the sullen and desperate to contrition and\n responsive kindness. 'Even when in an apparently dying state,'\n writes one of these illustrious nurses, 'they would look up in\n our faces and smile.'\"\n\n{55}\n\nDr. H. R. Storer, of Boston, has recently put forth a little book\nentitled _Nurses and Nursing_, etc., abounding in\nsuggestions which may some day be utilized in a hospital more\nliberally endowed and more elaborately organized than anything\nwhich now exists, and in which he mentions, with the highest\nregard, the Hospital of the Sisters of St. Francis, in Boston, 28\nSansom street. The doctor does well to dedicate his humane\naspirations for a perfect system of nursing to the sisterhood.\nFrom what zeal less earnest, less intelligent, less refined, or\nless holy, can we ever expect to find music and flowers, birds,\nlandscape views, the varied resources of luxury in nature and\nsociety, made tributary to the service of the sick?\n\nA worthy servant of our Master, Mr. Bost, of Dordogne, the\nfounder and administrator of several important charitable\ninstitutions, having among them departments for the hygienic\ntreatment of epilepsy, scrofula, consumption, and idiocy, one of\nwhose cures we have cited, remarks:\n\n \"The best physician, under God, is Nature. I never visit the\n hospitals in our great cities without a feeling of distress.\n What, then, you ask, is wanted? Are the patients not cared for?\n Are there no able medical men, no remedies, no order, no\n cleanliness, no wholesome and abundant nourishment? No doubt\n there is plenty of all that. I have with admiration accompanied\n the medical men on their morning visits. Everything _art_\n could contrive for restoration to health was applied; yet the\n cure was slow, attended with horrible pains, and the case often\n terminated in death. I will tell you what was wanting--the\n country air, the fragrance of the flowers and of the earth, the\n hues of morn and eve, the sunbeams, the harmony of nature, the\n carol and warbling of birds, so adapted to cheer hearts broken\n by suffering, and to which no other recreation is offered than\n the sight of rows of beds upon which sufferers are sighing and\n groaning from morning till evening and from evening until\n morning.\"\n\n \"It is amazing,\" writes Mr. Liefde, \"to witness the cures which\n simply by the application of natural hygiene, have been\n effected at the establishments of Laforce: Consumption of the\n lungs, in an advanced stage, has quite disappeared in some\n cases, hysteria in others; amputations are prevented; a girl\n sent away from a hospital as incurable from hip disease is\n enabled to walk well. The invalids are occupied in the fields\n or the garden; they go into the stable and see the cattle; they\n are in sight of the works of creation so adapted to raise their\n thoughts to God, who is love, even when his hand presses\n heavily upon them.\"\n\nIf one wish to witness the healing power of the Gospel over both\nbody and soul, he can do no better than to spend a week at\nLaforce.\n\nIn conclusion, we would urge it, as a matter of high policy,\nduty, and right, upon the church of Christ, to reclaim, as fast\nand as far as its means will allow, its primitive position in\nregard to the administration of charities in general, and of\nhospitals in particular; for we believe it to be the only social\norgan adequate to these humane uses. Science cannot remain\nneutral, and the trustees, the wardens, orderlies, nurses, the\ncooks, and all the persons employed in the hospital service,\nshould be brothers and sisters of one and the same order, the\nvoluntary subjects of the same rule, all pervaded by the same\nreligious sentiment and corporate spirit, while friendly\nrivalries obtain between the different institutions.\n\n ----------\n\n{56}\n\n Translated From Le Correspondant.\n\n Kaulbach And The Era Of The Reformation. [Footnote 12]\n\n [Footnote 12: Kaulbach's picture of the _Era of the\n Reformation_ now being on exhibition in this country, a\n republication of the above article from the pages of our\n French contemporary has seemed to us not inopportune.--ED. C.W.]\n\nI call up matters still fresh in recollection, in proceeding to\nspeak here of a work of art which so justly drew to itself the\npublic attention at the Universal Exposition of 1867. I refer to\nthe grand cartoon of Kaulbach, which, under the title of the\n_Era of the Reformation_, figured in the Bavarian\ndepartment.\n\nThe purely artistic critic has already fulfilled his mission in\nregard to that remarkable composition, and it is not from the\nartistic point of view that I permit myself to reopen its study.\nI had already, years ago, admired that magnificent fresco, one of\nthe most beautiful ornaments of the Berlin Museum; and after\nhaving a long while contemplated and meditated upon it, it seemed\nto me that one could not too highly praise the vigor of\ncomposition and the marvellous skill with which the artist had\nbeen able to group, within so narrow a space, so many different\npersonages, and to render living to the eyes of the spectator one\nof the most stormy periods of modern times. But in this beautiful\ndrawing there is something else than a work of art: there is a\nthesis. And that thesis is this: That the sixteenth century\nbelongs wholly to the Protestant Reformation; that that\nReformation is its centre, its heart, its vital principle; that\neverything of that period--theology, letters, science, art, the\ndiscoveries of human genius, political and military power--all\ncame of the Reformation. Hence the name given to the tableau--the\n_Era of the Reformation_. Hence, also, the selection, the\ntreatment, and the grouping of all the personages in it.\n\nAnd since I cannot avail myself of the help of an engraving or\nphotograph, I am going to attempt a rapid sketch, as a whole and\nin its principal details, of this vast composition.\n\nIn the centre, and as the culminating point toward which the\nwhole movement of the picture converges, is figured Dr. Martin\nLuther. The former Augustinian monk holds himself erect, upon the\nuppermost step of that temple within whose walls a whole century\nis represented as in motion, and he raises aloft above his head,\nwith both hands, the Bible--the Bible, that world at once both\nold and new, which, according to the Protestant hypothesis, the\ngenius of Luther discovered, buried under the darkness of\nignorance and Roman superstition, as, in like manner, thirty\nyears before him the bold Genoese navigator, Christopher\nColumbus--whom one sees at the left-hand side of the picture,\nresting his hand, firm and inspired, upon the map of the\nworld--had found, in the ocean's midst, the vast continents of\nthe American hemisphere.\n\nAt the left of Luther stand the theologians and pastors who\nadhered to his dogmatic teaching: Justus Jonas, and, next to him,\nBugenhagen, who is distributing the Lord's Supper to the two\nprinces, John le Sage and John Frederic, the two grand patrons of\nnascent Lutheranism.\n{57}\nAt the right of the Saxon monk stands Zwingle, holding also the\nbook of the Scriptures, and Calvin, who is giving the bread and\ncup of the Lord's Supper to a group of Huguenots, among whom we\ndistinguish Maurice of Saxony and Coligny.\n\nThe artist does not tell us, it is true--and I own that his\npencil could hardly have told us--whether the Bible which Luther\nholds speaks the same language as the Bible placed in Zwingle's\nhands; nor how, within a step or two of the patriarch of the\nReformation, Bugenhagen gives a Lord's Supper wherein is really\ncontained, with the bread and wine, the body of Christ, while,\nalike near to him on the other side, Calvin is giving another\nLord's Supper which is only a figure of that same body, and\nwherein the faithful partake of the communion of Jesus Christ by\nfaith only.\n\nA little beneath Luther, in the attitude of a submissive disciple\nand admirer, and indicating by a gesture the Wittenberg doctor,\nas much as to say, \"There is the Master!\" stands the mild\nMelanchthon, conversing with two savants of the times--Eberhardt\nof Tann and Ulrich Sazius. These two men are pressing each\nother's hands, as if the artist would express thereby the strange\naccommodations to which, in the matter of the Augsburg\nconfession, the strict Lutherans, on the one side, and those who\nhad a leaning toward the Zwinglian and Calvinistic ideas, on the\nother, lent themselves. [Footnote 13]\n\n [Footnote 13: It is well known that Melanchthon--who\n personally inclined toward the ideas of Carlostadt and the\n sacramentarians respecting the Lord's Supper; who, moreover,\n upon the question of the outward hierarchy of the church,\n would have willingly lent himself to a compromise with the\n Catholics; who, underneath the whole, did not dare to\n contradict Luther--thought to reconcile all these\n difficulties by putting forth two editions of the Augsburg\n Confession--the edition _invariata_, or strictly\n Lutheran, and the edition _variata_, wherein concessions\n are made to Calvinistic ideas.]\n\nBehind these corypheuses of the Reformation of the sixteenth\ncentury, the precursors of the grand \"liberalizing\" movement have\nnot been forgotten.\n\nThe Reformation, as is known, holds essentially to having a\ntradition--a rise and visible continuation, reaching back to the\nearlier ages. Behold them, then, these prophets and forerunners\nof the \"word of life:\" Here, Peter Waldo, Arnold of Brescia,\nWickliffe, John Huss; there, Abelard, the bold metaphysician, the\nmerciless dialectician, the same whom St. Bernard accuses of\nsacrificing faith to reason, and of destroying, by his\nexplications, the essence of the mysteries; [Footnote 14] next,\nby his side, Savonarola and Tauler, the spiritual sons of the\ncanonized monk of the thirteenth century, (St. Dominic,) to whose\nmemory classic Protestantism never fails to attach the founding\nof the Inquisition, with all its attendant train of horrors:\nTauler, of whom they desire to make one of the precursors of the\nnew exegesis of the Scriptures; and Savonarola, whose animated\nand fiery gesture recalls at once the popular tribune, the\nFlorentine republican chief, and the head-strong opposer of the\nchurch's hierarchical authority.\n\n [Footnote 14: St. Bernard, letters 188th and 189th.]\n\nFollowing upon these, come next in order all those other great\ngeniuses of the human race, more numerous and prolific than ever\nin an age which justly calls itself the age of _renewal_,\n(_de la Renaissance_,) and when a thousand favoring\ncircumstances had imparted mighty impulse to the human mind; and\nthey all proceed to arrange themselves in a most harmonious\nmanner around that renovation of Christianity and the church,\nwhich is, as it were, (in the picture,) the heart and the vital\nprinciple of all the movements of the era. Princes, warriors,\nstatesmen, savants, artists, scholars, jurists, poets, critics,\ninventors--all have their place in this grand composition.\n\n{58}\n\nIn the train of the haughty Elizabeth of England, but marching at\nsome distance from that pitiless reformer, as if they desired to\nleave place for the gory shade of the unfortunate Mary Stuart,\n\"Queen of Scots,\" appear Thomas Cranmer, More, Burleigh, Essex,\nDrake, and other gentlemen who represent the English Church.\nAnother group brings together Albert of Brandenburg, William of\nOrange, Barnevelt, and, at the end, Gustavus Adolphus, evoked a\ncentury in advance, it is true, but nevertheless consecrated by\nhis bold deeds of arms and his premature death as a hero--I was\nabout to say as a saint--of the Protestant Church militant.\n\nTo warriors and statesmen the painter has given only a secondary\nplace, in a work chiefly designed to glorify intellectual power;\nand, after the apostles of the Reformation, the honors of this\ngrand piece of canvas are meted out to savants, scholars, and\nartists.\n\nBacon of Verulam, with his _Novum Organum_, makes a part of\nthat group so vigorously designed, where are seen, with\nChristopher Columbus, Harvey, Vesalius, and Paracelsus. High up\nin the edifice, and properly placed there as in a sort of\nobservatory, Copernicus, Galileo, Tycho Brahe, and Kepler are\nstudying the course of the stars, and calculating the laws of\ntheir revolutions. So much for science.\n\nMarsilio Ficino, Giordano Bruno, Campanella, and Nicolas de Cus\nrepresent philosophy, with Pico Mirandola, author of the\ncelebrated thesis, _De omni re scibili_.\n\nPetrarch, with the crown he received at the capitol, faces\nShakespeare and the immortal author of _Don Quixote_,\nMichael Cervantes. The aged Hans Sachs, the popular poet of the\nReformation, is there also, quite at the bottom of the picture,\nand bending under the weight of age. He represents that\nliterature of the people which henceforward will always hold\nplace growingly by the side of the special literature of the\nlearned. This latter is personated in Reuchlin and Erasmus; and\nthe artist has judged most wisely and properly in placing the\nlatter of these close to Ulrich of Hutten and to Bucer, that is\nto say, in company with the brutal enemy of monks, and with one\nof those unfrocked monks whom the Rotterdam critic, with such\ncutting sarcasm, rallied upon their enthusiasm for a reformation\nwhich so generally, like the never-failing conclusion of a\ncomedy, ended in marriage.\n\nThe painter has taken care not to forget the personages of the\nera who ought to be dearer to him than all the others together:\nAlbert D\u00fcrer, Peter Vischer, Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo,\nRaphael, and last, with the inspired gesture of a man who feels\nhimself master of the future, the author of that magnificent\ndiscovery which men will henceforth make use of, alike with their\nreason and their freedom, their intelligence and their speech;\nhere employing it to spread error, to persuade to falsehold, to\nsow dissensions; elsewhere, using it to serve for the diffusion\nof truth, the advancement of justice, the\namelioration--intellectual, moral, and religious--of the human\nrace: I mean Gutenberg, the immortal inventor of the art of\nprinting.\n{59}\nHe holds in his hand that sheet, still fresh, which with deep\nemotion he has seen come forth from the first press, and with\nwhich he can speed round the world, crying out with Archimedes,\ncarried away by enthusiasm, \"I have found it! I have found it!\"\n\"[Greek text: Eureka]\" And he _has_ found, in fact, the\nmighty and formidable lever with which without difficulty he will\nlift the world of modern thought.\n\nSuch, so far as I have been able to describe it, passing by some\npersonages or some details of secondary interest, is this famous\npicture, which, as a work of art, I admire with the fullest\nmeasure of sympathy, and have found it truly worthy of the high\naward made to it. But, I repeat, the artist has not been in it\nthe artist only. He has also, at the same time, been the\ncontroversialist and the historian. He has not only made a\n_chef-d'oeuvre_ of painting: he has wished also to write a\npage of the history of Europe. That was his right unquestionably,\nand I am far from disputing it with him. I will even add that, if\nI was a Protestant, I should be justly proud of the manner, so\nintelligent and bold, with which the illustrious author of the\nBerlin frescoes has been able to glorify the Reformation.\n\nIt is for this very reason, also, that I have profoundly studied\nthis grand picture. In fact, if a work of art is at the same time\na thesis of history or of theology, it is no longer amenable to\nartistic criticism only. Kaulbach has, so to speak, crowned the\nwork of the Magdeburg centuriators, in making, as he has done,\nall the events of the sixteenth century the triumphal\n_cort\u00e9ge_ of the Reformation. Historic science has the\nright, then, to intervene; and, without being a Baronius, one can\ntry to answer this thesis, and to point out what there is in it\nof the purely systematic and exclusive.\n\n II.\n\nI commence by according thus much to it: To compress a whole\ncentury within the frame--narrow and always a little\nfactitious--of a picture or of a historical representation, is no\neasy task. So many diverse facts to bring together, to condense,\nor at least to point out; so many movements and collisions of\nideas to depict; so many personages to group together and\narrange; then to gather this multitude into unity, to bring order\nout of this seeming confusion; to know precisely how to seize and\nplace in proper relief that which can be called the culminating\npoint of the epoch, and to make that point the centre around and\nfrom which shall radiate all the other events of the period--this\nis a work which demands at once great power of synthesis, a wide\nyet sure range of vision, an accurate sentiment of just\nproportions, and, in the case of a historical painting, a\ncomplete divesting of one's self of the spirit of mere system,\nand a most scrupulous impartiality.\n\nNow, what strikes one, first of all, in looking at Kaulbach's\ngrand picture, is the exclusive idea which has presided over the\nwhole, as well as over all the details, of its composition. Even\nthe title given by the author to his work is witness to this. It\nis not so much the sixteenth century that the artist has desired\nto paint as the _Era of the Reformation_; and the\nReformation, moreover, solely as regarded from the Protestant\npoint of view. Accordingly in the picture everything is treated\nwith reference to Luther and Calvin; and the choir of great\npersonages who figure in it serve only, so to speak, as the\nretinue of the new gospel and its first apostles.\n\n{60}\n\nBut if the unhappy rupture which separated from the Catholic\nChurch a large part of Northern Europe is one of the most\nconsiderable events of the century, it is not, however, so\nexclusively such that it has the right to absorb into itself all\nthe other events of the period; and it is well known how numerous\nthose events were in an age which should be regarded as one of\nthe most eventful epochs in European history.\n\nAnd it is not solely from the point of view of religious and\nartistic history that it is just to make this objection; it\nshould be made, moreover, in behalf of political history. In\nfact, whatever influence Protestantism may have exercised upon\nthe relations of the civil states among and toward each other, it\nis but slight up to the seventeenth century, the beginning of the\nThirty Years' War and the treaties of Westphalia, which caused\nnew principles to prevail in the public law of Europe. He has\nbeen, therefore, entirely blind to the grandest political contest\nof the sixteenth century--that between France and Austria; a\ncontest that holds too large a place in the history of that\ncentury not to be noticed and made mention of, at least by\nintroducing into the sketch the princes in whom it was\npersonified--Charles V. and Francis I.\n\nFrancis I., the enlightened patron of letters, the founder of the\nCollege of France, the friend of Benvenuto Cellini and Leonardo\nda Vinci, the secret supporter of the Lutherans of the empire,\nshould have had, by these by-passages of his life, some right not\nto be forgotten by the pencil of the German painter. But if state\npolicy caused him to lend a helping hand to the Protestants of\nGermany--the adversaries of Charles V.--that same policy, joined\nwith religious motives, caused him to sign the edicts of\nproscription against the Protestants of his own kingdom; and the\nprince who, in despite of his sister's sympathies for Calvin,\nrefused to drag France upon the precipice of the Reformation,\ncould scarcely find favor with the panegyrists of Protestantism.\n\nAs to Charles V., even had he not joined to his title of Emperor\nof Germany the crown of Spain, with all his possessions in the\nLow Countries and in the New World, one would have still found it\nstrange to see him excluded from the _cort\u00e9ge_ of\nsovereigns, politicians, and statesmen who gave lustre to the\nsixteenth century.\n\nA sketch of the sixteenth century, then, is incomplete without\nthese two princes, who represent the fierce struggle between the\ntwo most powerful Catholic nations at an epoch in which the\nreligious revolutions of the European world should have made such\nan omission, so it would seem, impossible. Strange antagonism\nindeed that between these two nations, who would have been able\nby their accord to arrest the political progress of\nProtestantism, and to hinder the theology of Wittenberg and\nGeneva from becoming subsequently a preponderating influence in\nthe direction of the affairs of Europe! Strange and restless\nantagonism, which occupies a large part of the political history\nof the sixteenth century; fills, again, the seventeenth with\nRichelieu and Louis XIV.; seemingly is quieted for an instant\nwhen Marie Antoinette shares the throne of Louis XIV. and\nMarie-Louise that of Napoleon the First; survives, however, three\ncenturies of wars, of changes and revolutions of every sort, to\nplace anew the two peoples in hostile array upon the fields of\nMagenta and Solferino, and only seems bound to disappear when it\nhas arrived at one of its extreme but logical consequences,\nnamely, the exaltation of the power which most fully represents\nupon the European continent the Protestant enthusiasm and the\nancient grudges against France.\n{61}\nIt is, in fact, only since the battle of Sadowa that this\nantagonism between these two great Catholic nations has seemed to\ngive place to mutual intelligence of a common danger, and to that\nsympathetic regard which a recent and distinguished visit has\nconsecrated, so to speak, in the face of Europe, and commended to\nthe intelligent applause of the people of Paris.\n\nThe exclusive glorification of Protestantism in the master-work\nof Kaulbach has also been an occasion of another lamentable\nomission. It is not enough--be it said without excessive and\nimmoderate partiality toward our own country--it is not enough\nto have made France represented only by Calvin and by Coligny in\nthe imposing _cort\u00e9ge_ of all the glories of the sixteenth\ncentury. This systematic exclusion is explained even by itself.\nIn such a composition the places of honor were to be reserved to\nthe countries which welcomed Protestantism with an enthusiasm so\nardent, or submitted themselves to its dictation with so strange\na docility. One knows, on the other hand, what insurmountable\nresistance France opposed to the introduction and establishment\nof Protestantism. It cost her, it is true, more than forty years\nof continual wars. And what wars those terrible fratricidal and\nreligious strifes of the sixteenth century were; stirred up and\nkept alive on both sides by the most violent passions, and which,\nafter the unhappy and sanguinary convulsions in which were\nconsumed the reigns of Henry II., Francis II., Charles IX., and\nHenry III., would have ended surely in the breaking up of the\nancient national unity, if Providence had not, at the conclusion\nof those frightful dissensions, caused to intervene a prince\npre-destined to pacify the minds, quiet the discords, and close\nup and heal the deep wounds of the country! Henry IV. arrives at\nthe end of the sixteenth century, as it were in order to bring\nabout union between Protestantism vanquished and Catholicity\ntriumphant. He gives to the latter the pledge of a public\nconversion; to the former, the benefit of a legal existence; and,\nespecially in rendering sacred the respect due to minorities, he\ndemonstrates, better than by all arguments, and perhaps for the\nvery reason that his conversion was less a work of devotion than\nof policy, how the genius of the French nation was opposed to the\ndoctrines of the reformers.\n\nWhatever may be said of the equivocal sincerity of his\nCatholicity and of the blemishes of his private life, Henry IV.,\nwho belongs to the sixteenth century by his birth, by his\nelevation to the throne and some of the most considerable\ntransactions of his reign, worthily represents, at the close of\nan epoch so disturbed, some of the highest and most rightful\naspirations of what may be called, right or wrong, the spirit of\nmodern times. Great prince assuredly was he who could cause to\ntriumph over passions envenomed by the civil and religious wars\nof half a century that love of common country, in which, despite\nof all that would divide them, the French people ought to feel\nthemselves children of the same mother and defenders of the same\nflag.\n\n{62}\n\nThe exclusion--almost entire--of France from a picture designed\nto glorify the sixteenth century, is not the only, nor even the\ngravest, reproach which historical criticism has the right to\naddress to its author.\n\nIt is, still further, authorized to demand of him if it is\nstrictly just to cause this grand composition, artistic,\nscientific, and literary, to do honor solely to Luther and\nCalvin--a composition which, from a certain and strictly proper\npoint of view, would have sufficed to the glory of an epoch--and\nabove all, if it does not do a strange violence to truth to\nenroll under the banner of Protestantism such men as Petrarch,\nShakespeare, Christopher Columbus, Michael Angelo, and Raphael?\n\nThe name of Shakespeare, indeed, not long since stirred up quite\na lively discussion upon this very subject In the eyes of a\ncertain school it seemed to import absolutely that, to the honor\nof letters, the immortal author of _Hamlet_ and of\n_Othello_ did not belong to the Church of Rome--as if\nCorneille and Racine sparkled with any the less brilliancy\nbecause they were Catholics, or that the dramatic art had need to\nbe ashamed of _Polyeucte, Esther_, and _Athalie_.\n\nThe question has been examined with all the attention which it\nmerits, and the conclusion to which a conscientious inquiry seems\nto bring us is, that, if Shakespeare belonged by his birth to the\ntime of the Reformation, it is not, nevertheless, necessary to\nascribe, either to the gospel of Luther and Calvin or to the\nDraconian Protestantism of Queen Elizabeth, the masterly\nproductions of his genius.\n\nAs to Christopher Columbus, who does not know, I will not say his\nobedience and filial devotion to the Church of Rome, but the\nprofound piety of his soul and the tenderness of his religious\nsentiments? According to the chronicler who has preserved for us\nin Latin the admirable prayer made by that great man at that\nsolemn hour of his life when, triumphant at last over so many\ndistrusts and so many wrongs, over so many delays and so many\nobstacles, conqueror, so to speak, of the elements and of men,\nbut always submissive to God, he cast himself upon his knees on\nthe land of the New World, as if to take possession of it in the\nname of faith. \"O God!\" he said, \"eternal and omnipotent, thou\nhast by thy holy Word created heaven and earth and sea. Blessed\nand glorified be thy name; praised be thy majesty which has\ndeigned by thy humble servant to cause that thy holy name should\nbe known and proclaimed in this other part of the world.\"\n\nNow, by whom, think you, had the bold discoverer the intention of\nproclaiming and making known the name of Jesus Christ in the New\nWorld? Was it by the Methodist and Quaker missionaries? or by\nthose apostolic men who, docile to the word of the Roman pontiff,\nand like him \"fishers of men,\" went forth to announce the Gospel\nto every creature and to \"cast the net of the word\" amidst all\nnations? It is mere idle fancy, then, to connect with Luther and\nCalvin that wonderful movement, made up of theoretical science\nand of boldness, of learned calculations and of enthusiastic\nintuitions, which set out to open to the adventurous genius of\nthe race of Japheth the vast field of enterprise presented by the\ncontinents of America and the Archipelagoes of Oceanica.\nChronology, moreover, suffices to give the lie very explicitly to\nthis iniquitous claim. Christopher Columbus discovered America in\n1492, and died in 1506: the same year in which Martin Luther\nentered as a novice the Augustinian convent of Erfurt, and when\nno one looked to see him become one day an adversary of the\nPapacy.\n\n{63}\n\nThe Papacy! Far rather with _its_ remembrance should be\nassociated that grand epoch of modern Europe, that new crusadal\nenterprise, not to recover the tomb of Christ, but to plant the\ncross, to propagate the Gospel, and to accomplish the prophecies\nrespecting the universality of the church. It was, in fact, a\npope, and that pope an Alexander VI.--the same that proved how\nmuch the grandeur of that institution is independent of the worth\nof individuals--it was Borgia, so severely judged by history, who\npromulgated the famous bull of 1493, designed to draw the line of\ndemarcation between the discoveries of the Portuguese and those\nof the Spaniards. From that bull, and from the names of the\npeoples who bore away the palm from all the rest of Europe in the\ncareer of great discoveries, it follows that the Protestant\nReformation had nothing to show or pretend to in that splendid\nepisode of the history of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.\nAll those intrepid navigators were Catholics; and the only power\nwhich intervened to regulate and pacify the feverish movement\nthat bore them onward was the Church of Rome--the Papacy!\n\nIt may be said, perhaps, that the Spaniards, in discovering\nAmerica, put to shame the Catholic religion by their sharp\ncupidity and the disgraceful severity of their conduct toward the\nnatives. We have not the slightest intention of transforming the\nsoldiers of Cortez and of Pizarro into peaceful missionaries. If\nthe ferocity of those men disgraced the Gospel, so much the worse\nfor them. But as to the church, if it be insisted on that she\nshall be mixed up with the question, she has nothing to lose; for\nit was she herself, and she alone, who intervened to moderate the\ncupidity of the conquerors, and to defend against it the cause of\nthe conquered. To her alone belongs the name, ever to be\nvenerated, of Bartholomew Las Casas, the eloquent pleader in\nbehalf of Catholicity and of its beneficent action upon society.\nAs to the great Italian artists of the sixteenth century, and\nparticularly as to Michael Angelo and Raphael, it is still more\narbitrary, if possible, to have enrolled them in the army of the\ninnovators. What could be more entirely Catholic than the\ninspirations and great works of these men of genius? Not to speak\nin detail of the inimitable Madonnas of Raphael, nor of the\ngigantic frescoes of Michael Angelo in the Sistine chapel, nor\nthe many other marvellous works with which they have for ever\nenriched Italy and Europe; but of the church of St. Peter, upon\nwhich both had the glory of working, is it not, as it were, the\nvery personification, at once ideal and plastic, of the entire\nCatholic Church? It is the grand church of the popes; it is there\nthat repose, by the side of the illustrious chiefs St. Peter and\nSt. Paul, the remains of so many sovereign pontiffs. It is under\nits dome that is celebrated, on the grand solemnities of the year\nand by the very hands of the vicar of Jesus Christ, the sacrifice\nof the Mass. It is from its balcony that is given, on those same\nsolemnities, that pontifical benediction, preceded by that\nabsolution and those indulgences, against which for three hundred\nyears Protestantism never loses an occasion of casting its\nanathemas or its sarcasms; save perhaps when one of its children,\nassisting on Easter-Day at that wonderful solemnity, and hearing\nthe sonorous and affecting voice of Pius IX., at the moment of\nimparting benediction to the world, mingling itself with the roll\nof drums, the discharge of cannon, and the chimes of the thousand\nbells of Rome, falls upon his knees in spite of himself, subdued\nby I know not what mysterious power, and rises up again with the\nconfession that the inspirations of Catholicism are far\ndifferently fitted to charm the soul and seize hold upon the\nheart than the chilling ceremonial of a Calvinistic Lord's Supper\nunder the arches of St. Paul's in London.\n{64}\nIn a word, everything of that grand basilica of the Eternal City,\nfrom its corner-stone to the cross which surmounts its dome, all\nhas been inspired by Catholic thought; and it may be affirmed\nwith assurance that all the grand artists who worked upon it\ncould say as Raphael replied to Leo X.: \"I love so much the\nChurch of St. Peter!\" [Footnote 15]\n\n [Footnote 15: Reply of Raphael to the brief of Leo X., naming\n him superintendent of the work of the church. See, further,\n the will of Raphael, (cited in Audin's _Leo X._ t. ii.\n p. 347.)]\n\nMoreover, independently of all individual names, can it not be\nsaid in a general manner that it is going quite counter to\nhistoric truth to attempt to connect the art-movement of the\nsixteenth century with the influence of Luther and Calvin? It is\nwell enough known, in truth, what was the attitude of the\nReformation, especially of the Calvinistic part of it, toward the\nbeautiful and the divine in the arts. Many of our old cathedrals\nin France still bear, after three hundred years, the marks of the\niconoclastic fury of the Huguenots. The literal\ninterpretation--literal even to barbarousness--of the text in\nExodus, \"Thou shalt not make to thyself any graven images,\" it\ntranslated, especially in its beginnings, into a relentless\nproscription; and the statues, pictures, and wonderful great\nchurch-windows, where the middle ages had expended so much of\nfaith and often so much of genius, disappeared under the blows of\na most savage vandalism.\n\nThey are ours, then, altogether ours, those divine men, as the\nGreeks would have called them, who have written in the history of\nart the immortal pages stamped with the names of Perugino,\nLeonardo da Vinci, Brunelleschi, Bramante, Michael Angelo, and\nRaphael. It is not around Luther and Calvin that they should be\ngrouped, but around those Roman pontiffs who gave such a vigorous\nimpulse to literature and the arts, and who caused all those\nbeautiful poems of painting or of stone to serve for the\nglorification of the Catholic Church. On that point, moreover,\npublic sentiment has passed judgment for all future time. The\nhistory of the arts does not know the era of Luther; it knows and\nwill always know the era of Leo X.\n\n III.\n\nIf it had been given to one of those masters of art of the\nsixteenth century to make a synoptical picture of that grand\nepoch, he would have singularly modified the perspectives and\nenlarged the horizons. In regard to that rebellious monk who\nholds up the Bible as a standard of revolt; in regard to those\nmen who surround him, and among whom are found at the same time\nthe co-workers and the adversaries of his work; a Melanchthon,\nwho had been his disciple, and a Zwingle who had been his\nrival--strange council, where there is no unanimity except to\nattack and deny, and where there is division when the matter to\nbe treated of is that of affirming and establishing--in this\nrespect, one would have seen, majestically grouped upon the steps\nof a temple based, sixteen hundred years previously, upon\nimmovable foundations, the Fathers of the Council of Trent, who,\nduring a term of nearly twenty years, had brought together,\nclassified, and fixed, in wonderful conformity with the whole\ncurrent of tradition, the divers points of the doctrine and the\ndiscipline of the Christian church.\n\n{65}\n\nFive popes [Footnote 16] occupied the See of St. Peter during the\nholding of that memorable council. Some among them may, perhaps,\nbe justly blameworthy for this or that fault, in their\nadministration; but to have been able to convoke and reunite that\nimmortal assembly; to have caused it to resume its labors when\nthey had been interrupted; to have conducted them through so many\nobstacles and difficulties, coming from men or things, to their\nclose; to have, at last, as was done by Pius IV., perpetuated, so\nto say, the authority and reformatory action of that oecumenical\nassembly by the institution of that _Congregation_ of the\ncouncil, whose mission, for three hundred years past, has been to\nexplain and put into practical execution the decrees passed at\nTrent--this is evidently one of the most important pages of the\nhistory of the Reformation within the fold of Christianity, and\nis, perhaps, one where the divine power and the supernatural\nconstitution of the church shine forth most visibly. For neither\nthe popes who presided over the council nor the bishops who\ncomposed it were, taken individually, men of genius; and it is\npermitted to us to say that in great matters where the personal\nconsideration of man appears the least, there the wisdom and\npower of God shine forth all the more strikingly.\n\n [Footnote 16: Paul III., Julius III., Marcellus II., Paul\n IV., and Pius IV.]\n\nAnd then, again, around those two centres which mingle themselves\nin one--the Papacy and the general council--and which represent\nso forcibly, in the face of the precocious divisions of\nProtestantism, the grand and living unity of the church of Jesus\nChrist, what astonishing fecundity for good, what varied\nresources, what fruitful germination of men and deeds! What\nsouls, those great saints of the sixteenth century, recruited\nfrom among all ranks of society, and to whom Providence seems to\nhave confided the mission of replying by some beneficent\ninstitution to all the attacks and all the negations of\nProtestantism!\n\nWould that, then, be a picture wanting in grandeur, where a\ncompetent artist--wishing to glorify in the sixteenth century not\nthe warlike Reformation which rent asunder without remorse the\nancient and majestic unity of Christendom, but the peaceful and\nfruitful reform which multiplied, according to the needs of a\nmuch troubled and suffering age, grand inspirations and\nmagnanimous self-sacrifices--should group around the living\ncentre of the church Ignatius Loyola and his brave companions,\nthe pastor Pascal Baylon and the grand nobleman Francis Borgia,\nSt. Philip Neri and St. Camillus of Lelli, St. Charles Borromeo\nin the midst of the plague at Milan and St. Francis of Sales\nevangelizing the populations of Chablais? And yet this\nenumeration must be limited to the names of the more illustrious\nonly, and to works the most considerable.\n\nNow, in these names are found truly personified the inspirations\nwhich constitute, in its plenitude, the veritable spirit of\nChristianity.\n\nFirst, the spirit of zeal and apostleship. Those who have seen\nthe frescoes of the church of St. Ignatius at Rome remember with\nwhat just pride a Jesuit painter has represented the triumphs of\nthe first fathers of his company over heresy and infidelity.\n{66}\nAnd unless blinded by incurable prejudices, what a striking\ncomparison can one make between Melanchthon, the disciple of\nLuther, and that student of the Paris University, the friend of\nSt. Ignatius--that St. Francis Xavier who, setting out for the\nIndies in 1541 and dying in 1552, had converted, by himself\nalone, more heathen in a dozen years than all the Protestant\nmissionaries united have been able to convert in a century; that\nman whose life would seem but a legend of olden times, were it\nnot authenticated by most unexceptionable documents, and had it\nnot appeared in the sixteenth century, which is far less the age\nof enthusiasm than that of criticism--that man, in fine, to whom\na Protestant, Baldeus, has had the impartiality to render a\nsplendid eulogy, closing with that apostrophe so _na\u00efve_ and\nnearly as honorable to the writer as to the hero, \"Would to God\nthat, having been what you were, you might be of us!\"\n\nIf the Company of Jesus represents in so high a degree the spirit\nof zeal, behold St. Theresa and St. Peter of Alcantara, who\nrepresent none the less worthily the spirit of penitence--that\nessential part of the Christian life, so entirely foreign to the\nheroes and the works which spring forth from Protestantism.\n\nIn contrast with the rehabilitation of the flesh, openly preached\nand practised by Luther, by Henry VIII., by the Landgrave of\nHesse and the principal corypheuses of the Reformation, see how,\nin the train of these two Spaniards--that reformer of Carmel and\nthat son of St. Francis--whole generations follow. They embrace\nwith enthusiasm that hidden life of the cloister, where the\nsuperficial glance of the man of the world sees only an arbitrary\ncaptivity and aimless mortifications; but where the eyes of faith\ndiscover the secret of those acts and movements of reparation\nwhich preserve from ignominy and ruin the ages dragged along the\ndangerous declivity of scepticism and immorality, by teaching men\nthat, if unbelief and luxury destroy individuals and societies,\nit is the force of prayer, united to that of sacrifice, which\nalone can raise them up again.\n\nFinally, after the spirit of zeal and the spirit of penitence,\nthe spirit of charity completes the fulness of the Christian\nlife.\n\nNow, can Protestantism take any offence, if, in looking over with\nit the list of its founders and apostles, we demand of it where\nthere is to be found, among those ardent adversaries of Roman\nsuperstitions, a single man to whom one can conscientiously give\nthe title of benefactor and consoler of men?\n\nI see Luther, indeed, presenting the Bible to Germany surprised\nand misled; and Calvin administering the cup of the Lord's Supper\nto gentlemen of the court of Francis I. or to the rich burgesses\nof Geneva. Here, in one place, Reuchlin and Ulrich of Hutten are\njeering, and laughing at the monks, and there, in another,\nGustavus Adolphus is brandishing his valiant sword in defence of\nthe new gospel; but still, again, among these bold promoters of\nthe Reformation, among these indefatigable champions of\ngospel-christianity, as they proudly entitle themselves, would\nthat I were shown _one_ of those souls inspired from above\nto pour upon the miseries of the age the treasures of divine\nconsolations! I behold party-leaders, Bible-expounders, soldiers,\npoliticians, and savants; but of friends of the poor, of\nprotectors of old age and deserted infancy, of men who sacrifice\nall and who sacrifice themselves even, to gain the right, the\nprivilege, of drying up the tears of the afflicted and of holding\nout the helping hand to the unfortunate--of these I see none.\n{67}\nThese are all in the ranks of that church whose privilege it will\nalways be, and which no sect has ever been able to take from her,\nto prove that she alone is the veritable spouse of Jesus Christ,\nbecause she alone is the true mother of men! Behold St. Philip\nNeri and his companions of the Oratory of Rome, whose\nremembrances still live in the hospital of the Trinity for\npilgrims--St. Philip Neri, whose name, after more than three\nhundred years, is always associated in the Eternal City with the\nidea of whatever is most tender and good. By the side of St.\nPhilip, his contemporary and friend, St. Camillus of Lellis,\ninstitutor of a congregation specially devoted to the care of the\nsick poor; while, by a like inspiration, the Spaniard, St. John\nof God, established, in 1540, that charitable order, spread since\nthen throughout Christendom, and whose members rival in\nself-sacrificing devotion the disciples of St. Camillus in\nconsecrating themselves to the work of relieving human\ninfirmities. In fine, if St. Vincent of Paul constitutes the\nglory and, more than the glory, the consolation of the\nseventeenth century, the sixteenth century has, nevertheless, the\nright to claim him in part; for it saw his birth, and it gave to\nhim the first inspirations of that zeal and charity which draw\ndown every day upon his name the grateful benedictions of all who\nlanguish and suffer--upon that name at once the humblest and the\nmost popular of all names.\n\nIn conclusion, if, in this picture of the Catholic glories of the\nsixteenth century, it were necessary also to find place for men\nof the sword and men of law, are there many figures more martial\nthan that of Bayard, the chevalier \"without fear and without\nreproach,\" or those of the admirable Knights-Hospitallers of\nMalta, who, in 1585, under the orders of their grand-master, La\nValette, stood as a living rampart, against which all the forces\nof Islamism dashed and broke themselves, and who did for\nChristian Europe in the sixteenth century what, a century later,\nthe immortal Sobieski had to do with his brave Polanders?\n\nAs to men of law, Catholic France has the right to name with\npride the grand-chancellor H\u00f4pital; and Protestant England has\nnot the right to claim Thomas More. It was this courageous\nmagistrate who refused to subscribe to the divorce of Henry\nVIII., and who, when entreated by his wife not to expose himself\nto capital punishment by opposing the king's wishes, replied in\nthese beautiful words: \"What! Would you have me compromise my\neternity for the sake of twenty years which yet perhaps remain\nfor me to live?\" He died upon the scaffold, the 6th of July,\n1535, with the constancy of a martyr; worthy precursor of that\nlong and illustrious generation of witnesses to the faith, who,\nduring all the second half of the sixteenth century, watered with\npurest of blood the soil of England, and did more honor, it seems\nto me, to the ancient renown of \"The Isle of Saints\" than a\nCranmer, the courtly and apostate archbishop, or an Essex, one of\nthe numerous lovers of that princess who foully stained with mire\nand blood the throne upon which she sat, and that state church of\nwhich she made a mere vassal of that throne.\n\n{68}\n\nAfter having rectified and completed, so far as it has been given\nme to do, this painting, so original and vigorous, but at the\nsame time so manifestly devoted to a preconceived and\nsystematized idea, I arrive at a conclusion which is applicable\nnot to the sixteenth century only, but to all the epochs of\nhistory.\n\nIt is that, after the likeness of man himself, each phase of the\nlife of humanity bears in it two souls, and, as it were, two\nhumanities. These are the twins that struggled together in the\nwomb of Rebecca, and on the occasion of which the Lord responded\nto the troubled mother: \"Two nations are in thy womb, and two\npeoples shall be divided out of thy womb, and one people shall\novercome the other.\" (Gen. xxv. 23.)\n\nYes, as each one of us bears within him two men, whose unceasing\nstruggle makes up the whole prize and the whole grandeur of the\nmoral life, so in like manner each age of the world bears within\nit two ages: the one which is the docile instrument of God in the\npursuit of truth and the accomplishment of justice; and the\nother, which paralyzes a part of the living forces of humanity by\nleading them astray into error, or by putting them to the service\nof selfishness and evil.\n\nThis grand principle of the philosophy of history, due to\nChristian psychology and the true knowledge by man of himself,\nhas been admirably demonstrated by St. Augustine. One sees, from\nnumerous passages in his writings, how that holy doctor was\nimpressed by the perpetual antagonism and irreconcilable\nopposition between these two powers, or \"cities,\" (as he terms\nthem,) who always and everywhere are making war upon each other,\nand to whom each succeeding century serves but as a battle-field.\n\nQuite as much and even more than others, does the sixteenth\ncentury present to the look of the observer the militant dualism\nof these two principles: the one, calling itself the Reformation\nof the church by disorder and violence; the other, wishing to be,\nand which has been, the fruitful and pacific renovation of\nChristian life by humble zeal and true charity. The Protestant\nReformation claims the sixteenth century as exclusively its own.\nI believe I have sufficiently demonstrated that, by its most\nbeautiful and most enduring parts and characteristics, the\ncentury belongs neither to Luther nor Calvin; but that the\nCatholic Church can exhibit it with just pride alike to her\nfriends and her enemies.\n\nFrom this study, made in the light of this principle, I would\nalso deduce a second conclusion and apply it directly to the\ntimes in which we live.\n\nAre we not ourselves witnesses of and actors in a struggle like\nor analogous to that which, before our day, divided our fathers?\nYes, our century, soon to complete the third quarter of its term,\nitself also is engaged in this struggle between, so to term it,\ntwo opposing cities or communities. For some time past, this\nstruggle seems to have entered upon a new phase and into a most\nsharp crisis.\n\nWith whom will victory rest, and which of the two principles\nshall carry captive the other in its triumph, so as to decide\ndefinitively the character of this epoch? That is a secret as yet\nonly known to God, and it is not mine to attempt a reply to so\nhidden and mysterious a question. What I do know is, that we\nought to oppose, with all our might, those who, wishing to bring\nabout a violent retrograde movement in European society, threaten\nevery day to carry us back to the age of Voltaire, and who\npresent to us the saturnalia of '93 as the ideal of liberty,\nprosperity, and progress!\n\n{69}\n\nWhat I know, again, is, that but yesterday the antagonism between\nthese two opposing powers (_des deux cit\u00e9s_) was personified\nin two men, upon whom, if I mistake not, the judgment of\nposterity has already begun to be made up: One of them, who\nrepresents, in all his serene majesty and with impressive\nauthority even in his weakness, the force of right--the august\nand mild pontiff, whom twenty-two years of revolutions and\ningratitude do not dishearten and dissuade from blessing the\nworld, and calling down, by his prayers, upon sorely tried and\ntroubled society, the spirit of wisdom, counsel, and peace; the\nother, that incorrigible leader of the antichristian army, the\nman of those bold deeds whose ephemeral triumph aspires to build\nup right upon force, but which one day, I hope, Italy will\ndisavow in the name of her religious traditions, as well as in\nthe name of her true and sound liberal traditions.\n\nNo; this nineteenth century, where by the side of so much that is\nevil there is so much that is good--so many generous sallies of\nself-devotion, so many hidden acts of self-sacrifice, so many\nsolid virtues--the century which has given us a Cur\u00e9 of Ars and a\nPius IX., an Affre and a Lamorici\u00e8re, a Lacordaire and a\nRavignan, an O'Connell and a Zamoyski, a Jane Jugan--founder of\nthe Little Sisters of the Poor--and those students to whom not\nonly France, but the Catholic world, are indebted for the\ninstitution of the Conferences of St. Vincent of Paul; this\ncentury will never be dragged down to the _gemoniae scalae_\n[Footnote 17] of history with the ignominious stamp upon it of\nhaving been the _Era of Garibaldi_. It will triumph over all\nthe obstacles heaped upon its pathway by scepticism, by false\nscience, and by the violence of party-spirit. These adverse\nforces seem at this hour, it is true, to take up with renewed\nenergy the struggle which for eighteen centuries nothing has\ninterrupted; but by so doing they only serve to show us more\nclearly our duty, and to urge us on the more strenuously to\nfulfil it.\n\n [Footnote 17: The _gemoniae scalae_ were steps in\n ancient Rome, near the prison called _Tullianum_, down\n which the bodies of those who had been executed in prison\n were dragged and thrown into the Forum, to be there exposed\n to the gaze of the multitude. TRANS.]\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n The Legend Of Hospitality.\n\n\n\"Legend or history, history or legend, there are truths to be\nculled from each, my friends,\" justly remarks that charming\nwriter, Charles Nodier. A beautiful legend creates its own\natmosphere of sweet and moral influences, as a flower exhales its\nperfume. Happy they who can discern and appropriate them! It is\nin these old and popular legends that oftentimes will be found\ninfused whatever is most beautiful and pure of a nation's poetry\nand of its faith; they being, as it were, the expression of a\npeople's thought. For a long time, indeed, those simple\ntraditions of the past constituted, as we may say, the literature\nof the people's social gatherings, and served an important part\nin keeping firmly cemented the noble principles of family, of\nunion, and of justice, which formed the triple corner-stone of\nall well-regulated society.\n{70}\nWhen the trembling voice of the old man was heard, all were\nsilent, and went forth after his narrative with souls deeply\nimpressed, on the one hand, by the punishments which struck down\nthe wicked, or, on the other, softly moved by the justly deserved\nreward that so often formed the graceful _d\u00e9nouement_ of\nsome touching ballad.\n\nSome of these legends, coming to us, as they do, from afar, have\neven preserved the first freshness of the primitive ages. This\nis, indeed, their greatest charm. Witness this exquisite legend\nof hospitality, which for a long time delighted the simple hearts\nof the peasants of France.\n\n\n\nIn the days of Jesus, there lived on the banks of the Jordan an\nold man, who might well have been taken for a patriarch of an\nancient tribe, whom Death seemed to have forgotten. His name was\nPhilomen, and in his lowly cabin he subsisted solely on the fruit\nof his little garden, and the milk furnished him by his goat.\nNow, one quiet evening, some one tapped gently at his door, and\nan old man, though younger than he, entering, claimed his\nhospitality.\n\n\"Most willingly, my friend. My cottage is not large; my garden\nyields not much fruit; my goat gives but little milk; but, even\nso, I share it cheerfully with all who cross my threshold in the\nname of hospitality. Enter, then, good friend, and rest after the\nfatigue of the day.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the traveller hesitatingly, \"I am not alone. I have\ntwelve companions with me, overpowered by weariness and parched\nwith thirst, for we have just crossed the desert.\"\n\n\"Let them all come; you are all welcome. All who come hungry to\nmy door are welcome to all I possess.\"\n\nThen the stranger made a sign to his companions, who were\nsilently standing at the door; and he found that they were Jesus\nand his twelve apostles, whom St. Peter led on their journey,\never walking in advance, he who was one day to open the gates of\nParadise.\n\nThey entered, partook of his simple fruit, drank the milk\nfurnished by his goat, and rested for a time on his rough mat.\nWhen day dawned, St. Peter said to him, \"Before going hence, hast\nthou no petition to make to us? Hast thou not some wish? Ask\nwhatever thou wilt in return for thy hospitality. All that thou\nshalt ask shall be granted unto thee.\"\n\nThen the old man made three wishes, and said: \"My sweet Lord, I\nlove life so well, grant me yet five hundred years to live; the\ndays pass so quickly in this peaceful cabin.\"\n\n\"Granted,\" said a sweet and touching voice, which seemed to come,\nas it were, from the midst of the group. \"What else wilt thou\nhave?\"\n\n\"My good Lord, I have a beautiful fig-tree in my garden, which\nbears such fine fruit that they are often stolen from me. Grant\nme, then, that whoever climbs into it may not be able to descend\nuntil I give him leave; thus I will ensnare the thief.\"\n\nJesus smiled as he heard this quaint wish, and, bowing his fair\nhead, said: \"It shall be done as thou wishest. Hast thou more\nstill to ask? Speak freely, for thou seest that I grant thee all\nthat thou hast wished for.\"\n\n\"My dearly loved Lord, I have a wooden chair, on which my friends\nsit when they come sometimes at night to talk with me. Grant me\nthat whoever rests on it may not be able to rise, and must remain\nthere as long as I shall please.\"\n\n{71}\n\nAnd Jesus approved again, because he loved this guileless old\nman, who was so simple of heart and made such modest wishes. St.\nPeter then thanked him, and went forth, followed by his twelve\ncompanions, among whom Jesus loved to conceal himself.\n\nYears passed by one after the other. One century passed, then\nanother, until finally the last day of the last year arrived, and\nthe venerable Philomen saw the grim traveller Death enter his\ncabin, who said to him:\n\n\"Come along, old man! Thou hast eluded me this long time--thanks\nto an especial favor. Thou hast reached the years of Mathusale.\nIf every one lived as thou hast, I would have no work on earth.\nCome along, quick. Regulate thy affairs, bid farewell to thy\ngarden, because, with the setting sun, I lead thee forth with\nme.\"\n\n\"O my good dame! if you would but pity me! Ah! yes, if you would\nhave some pity, you would let me live some few days more--only\n_one_ day, then. It is so good to live!\"\n\n\"No, nothing; not one moment more,\" replied the sinister guest in\na harsh and dry voice.\n\n\"At least, then, let me once more eat of the fruit of my\nfig-tree. I have loved them so well; it will be a last\nconsolation to me. But I am too weak to shake the tree, and too\nold to reach those highest branches. Do you go up, and gather me\nthat fig up there; it is so thoroughly ripened by our eastern\nsun.\"\n\n\"Most willingly. See, old man, I will show thee that Death is not\nas surly as 'tis said she is.\"\n\nThen placing her hour-glass and scythe at the foot of the tree,\nthe unlucky dame climbed up; but scarcely had she pressed her\nfoot upon the branches, than, lo! they sprang up as if from her\ntread, closed around and so shut in the impudent wight that she\ncould not even stir. She called; she cried aloud, then moaned and\nsupplicated. Philomen renewed his humble petition, but she\npersistently refused.\n\n\"Very well! I only want five hundred years, five centuries more!\"\nAnd raising his head menacingly, he took up the hour-glass and\nscythe, quietly returning to his cabin. Every morning he\nreturned, imposed his conditions of release, which Death,\nbecoming more and more irritated, as obstinately refused. Then he\nwould go back patiently to his cabin. On the third night he saw a\ndark figure, with glittering eyes, prowling round the foot of his\ntree. He listened, and heard this conversation. Now, you must\nknow that this was the Devil, who came to make his complaint:\n\"What dost thou there, thou idler? Thou no longer sendest me work\nto do. I am ruined by thy delay.\"\n\nBut the terrible accomplice could do nothing; because he who\nbinds on earth as he binds in heaven had bound her so firmly that\nDeath herself could not undo it.\n\nNext morning, after a fresh dispute with Philomen, she yielded,\nand consented to let him have five hundred years added to his\nlife. But as Death is treacherous, he sought his tablet, and\nbefore she came down he made her sign the treaty. After that he\nset her free, restored her baggage, her hour-glass and scythe,\nand let her depart, threatening and raging as she went, vowing to\ncut off, at the very moment of the promised time, the life of one\nwho had so pitilessly ridiculed her.\n\n{72}\n\nYears again passed by, one by one; the centuries were\naccomplished; and yet Philomen did not grow old. Ten times had he\nseen pass by that unhappy pilgrim condemned to wander for ever\nround the world. Each journey marked one century as this\nwandering Jew crossed the Jordan, near his little cabin, on the\nroad to Jerusalem, that, ascending Golgotha, he might sue for\nmercy on the very spot where the blood had been shed of him whom\nhe had despised! The centuries had all now passed, and one\nevening, when Philomen sat quietly by his hearth, the dark\ntraveller entered once more. Midnight was the fatal hour. She\nrudely accosted him: \"Come along now, old man! Thou shouldst long\nsince have been in thy grave. No mercy for thee this time! Thou\nwouldst but mock me again, could I show pity for thee. Oh! how\ntired I am; so tired, so worried! To-day I have killed nearly\nthree thousand Christians, then a whole race of infidels, and\ndecimated an entire kingdom, with my well-tempered weapon,\npestilence. Rich and poor, prelates and priests, I have upturned\neverything--everything. But I am horribly tired, and while\nawaiting the expiration of thy time, I will rest me a little\nhere.\" Saying these words, she threw herself on the wooden stool\nthat Jesus had gifted with supernatural powers. Then she began to\njeer at the old man, speaking to him of the joys of life, of\nyouth, of love, etc. When midnight tolled, she attempted to rise\nfrom the chair and spring at Philomen, who had wisely placed\nhimself beyond her reach; but, nailed down upon this wonderful\nseat, she could not move! In vain she shook her glass, made\ndeadly thrusts with her scythe! Then the good man went to his\nhearth, and kindled such a fire as nearly roasted her even at\nthat distance. Her hour-glass was about falling to pieces, the\nhandle of her scythe was nearly reduced to ashes, when, after a\nmost vigorous dispute, she granted Philomen a new lease of five\ncenturies more of life!\n\nNow, this was, as you know, the second time she had been caught\nin the same trap, and more enraged than ever, she went forth\ncrying aloud that she should not be caught again; and good old\nPhilomen lived on through the long years obtained by this trick.\nBut everything of time must end; everything falls; everything\ndies; everything passes away. And these five centuries, too, were\ngathered with all that had gone before. But Death had learned\nprudence now, and did not venture near, sending a shaft from afar\nthat pierced the good old man and sent him at once from life to\ndeath. But as he had lived so innocently and ever observed the\nlaws of holy hospitality, God had a place prepared for him in his\nown beautiful Paradise.\n\nNow, it happened that before going there our Philomen wished to\nsee, just a little, what was going on in hell. Since the night\nthat he overheard the dispute between Death and Satan, he had\ncherished a great desire to do so. He quietly entered the abode\nof the condemned, and when the Devil came to meet him, and would\nhave seized upon him, Philomen cried out: \"Stop there! I am not\nfor thee! I am of the kingdom of the elect, and come here only to\nsee if all that is said of thee in the kingdom of the living be\ntrue. Lead me everywhere!\" When, conducted by his dark guide, he\nhad visited the bowels of the earth and witnessed all manners of\ntorture, he proposed to him to stake his own soul against some of\nthe most fearfully punished among the damned who were uttering\nmost terrific shrieks. The dice were brought, and shaken by each\nin turn.\n{73}\nPhilomen gained twelve souls; then Satan became fearful he might\nlose all with this mysterious partner, and refused to play on.\nPhilomen then took the road to Paradise, and, reaching the gate,\ntapped gently. Saint Peter came to open for him. He at once\nrecognized him, and, smiling, said, \"Pass on, we have expected\nyou all this time.\" \"Oh! very well,\" said the acute old man,\n\"but, like you formerly, I am not travelling alone: I have with\nme twelve companions, who claim your hospitality.\" \"This is but\nfair,\" said St. Peter, once more smiling, \"so come in.\" And so\nPhilomen and his twelve ransomed souls all went to join the\nthrong of the blessed who will for ever sing the glory of God.\n\nIt is thus the good old man lived fifteen hundred years, and\npractised the holy rules of hospitality. And it is thus that our\npious ancestors taught their children never to refuse entrance to\nthose who knocked at their doors, imploring shelter; and thus we,\ntoo, see how religiously and beautifully hospitality was\npractised in the former ages, in the chateaux of the rich as well\nas in the more humble dwellings of the poor.\n\n ----------\n\n Mine Enemy.\n\n\n If he could stand against me now,\n With other eyes and an alien brow;\n If I could break the spell that still\n My will entangles with his will;\n\n If he could laugh the while I weep;\n If I could wake, and he asleep;\n Could I uncoil the mystery\n Where he is I, and I am he:\n\n Then might I hide me from his face;\n Or strike him down within his place;\n And so, at last, my life be free\n From his tormenting company.\n\n But no; his blush my forehead burns,\n His the pallor my pale cheek turns,\n And when he sees the thing I do,\n 'Tis mine own eyes that he looks through.\n\n When I would hate this tiresome mate,\n He teaches me the way to hate;\n When from his presence I would flee,\n He, taunting, flies along with me.\n\n{74}\n\n But best I like his baser slips,\n His angry eyes and impious lips;\n For then, half-wrenched away from me,\n Almost it seems he leaves me free.\n\n 'Tis then I raise aloft my cry:\n St. Michael, to the rescue fly!\n 'Tis then almost my foot is prest\n Upon the monster's struggling breast;\n\n 'Tis then I feel my shoulders glow\n With hints of wings they yet may know,\n And breathe as slaves pant, wild and sweet,\n Whose chains are falling to their feet!\n\n 'Tis then I nestle, safely bound\n By wings of angels circling round,\n And feel the drawing of the cord\n That holds my anchor in the Lord!\n\n And most I fear when cunningly\n He crouches, hidden from mine eye,\n And breathes into the pipes whose keys\n Hold all my spirit's melodies.\n\n When I his hiding would betray,\n He holds the lamp, and leads the way;\n When I would break his hardihood,\n He wields the lash that draws my blood.\n\n So deep his guile, I scarce can know\n From whose intent my actions grow;\n So brightly do his tear-drops shine,\n I oft mistake his grief for mine.\n\n When veiled emotions, swift and strong,\n Run all my trembling nerves along,\n If 'tis his sigh or mine whose swell\n Upheaves my breast, I cannot tell.\n\n When friendship frowns, I turn to see\n My foe's eyes beaming tenderly;\n When friendship harshly speaks, I hear\n His dulcet tones wooing mine ear.\n\n When God is slow to hear my cry,\n Behold th' insidious list'ner nigh!\n When thirst has parched my vitals up,\n His hand presents the sparkling cup.\n\n{75}\n\n If I would reason with my foe,\n He lets the high-piled logic grow,\n And lowly bends, in humble guise,\n With silent mouth and drooping eyes.\n\n But as, o'erflowing with content,\n I view my stately monument,\n Nor guess the thoughts lie side to side\n In subtle, weak cement of pride,\n\n With sudden flash of mocking wit\n He plays about and shatters it,\n Or some volcanic underthrust\n Levels my structure with the dust.\n\n And straight, ere I can speak for pain,\n He builds my chang'd thoughts up again\n In airy stretches, bright or dim,\n With flower-woven cornice-rim;\n\n With domes that melt into the sky,\n Like piles of snowy cumuli;\n And pinnacles where fancy sees\n Stars cling and swim, like golden bees;\n\n With long-drawn wings whose cloudy tips\n The sunset kisses with red lips;\n And cloudy-curtained windows bright,\n Whence pours a flood of rosy light.\n\n And with it come bewildering tunes,\n Where heavenly airs bear hellish runes;\n And, calling sweet and calling clear,\n The voice that most I long to hear.\n\n But if, lured by this temple fair,\n Dazzled, I seek to enter there,\n It clings, and burns with lurid light,\n Like Glauce's bridal-garment white.\n\n Then since my foe so potent is,\n And I so weak, lest I be his,\n Some friend I need, stronger than he,\n To stand and keep my heart for me.\n\n And since, though driven forth with pain,\n Ever he stealeth back again,\n More need have I of heavenly light\n To make his lurking-places bright.\n\n{76}\n\n And since I stand unarmed, indeed,\n Before his wrath, great is the need\n I should invoke, with prayerful word,\n Saint Michael of the fiery sword!\n\n That night and day I still should cling\n Beneath my hovering angel's wing;\n And ne'er let slip the golden cord\n That holds my anchor in the Lord!\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The Revue Du Monde Catholique.\n\n Flaminia.\n\n By Alexandre De Bar.\n\n\n Concluded.\n\n\n\"You will not be surprised to see that Flaminia was ignorant of\nthe veritable nature of the affection that she felt for Albert;\nbut you will be astonished to learn that he shared entirely her\nignorance, although he had seen much of life. Yet think that it\nis to know nothing of the most impetuous passion of our soul if\nwe have only learnt the theory; for as to know the world we must\nhave lived in the world, so to know the heart one must have lived\nby the heart; if such has not been one's experience, all is\nobscurity and one takes a false route. Now, Albert had lived out\nof the world, and had not yet loved aught but a glorious renown.\nBesides all this, if you will look back upon that fair time of\nyouth which has now fled from us, you will remember that the\ndescent which allures us is often so gentle that we follow it\nwithout attention; until the day when an unforeseen event, and\noften even an unimportant circumstance, arouses us, and permits\nus by a glance to see the road that we have already glided down.\nAlbert, too, descended that charming declivity, gathering the\nperfumed flowers which hung on the shrubs, and intoxicating\nhimself with perfumes, with light and songs. His soul happy, his\nheart pure, dazzled by the celestial gleams which irradiated him,\nhow could he see where all this was conducting him? This is how\nhe first became aware of his position: There was at the bottom of\nthe gardens of the palace Balbo a long alley, that was covered by\nthe thick foliage of the vines, whose stems, black and distorted,\nclung to and spread up the stone pillars on each side. Here and\nthere the jasmines displayed the silver stars of their flowers,\nwhich shone out of the deep shade of their leaves. From that\nalley the eye gazed upon a vast horizon, bounded by two large\nsheets of azure, the sea and sky, between which the mountains\nlifted their imposing masses, gilded by the rays of the setting\nsun. It was in this perfumed gallery that, each evening, Albert\nwas conducted by his hosts, as soon as the refreshing breeze of\nevening blew across the sea.\n{77}\nOften it was the arm of Flaminia that aided his yet feeble steps\nin this exercise. How many charming hours thus passed for them\nduring the calm of those evenings, when the noises of the day\nceased one by one, until the ear brought but the sound of the\nwhispering breeze, pure and sweet as the breath of a sleeping\nchild, to the touched and softened soul! One day, the fever\nseemed struggling to regain its power over the form of Albert;\nhis wounds were scarcely closed, and the emotions that he\nexperienced reacted most powerfully upon his health. Sir, man is\nborn for suffering, and not for joy. His body can support an\nimmense weight of sorrow and pain without giving way; but it is\nworn out by pleasure, and joy kills it. Giovanni, uneasy about\nhis friend, strictly forbade his leaving his room, and that\nevening the family went alone to their walk. Albert returned\nsadly to the saloon, become more desert for him than the sands of\nSahara, in company with Giovanni, who, in the hope of distracting\nhis loneliness, talked to him of battles and of victories;\nalthough had he known how far the mind of his friend was from all\nsuch subjects, he might have given himself far less trouble with\nan equally good result. Little caring then for glory, Albert's\nheart was with Flaminia under the perfumed shade of the vines and\njasmines. At their return, Flaminia held out to Albert a spray of\njasmine covered with flowers, saying to him: 'You like these\nflowers, so I bring you them.' When Albert had retired to his own\nroom, he took this bouquet and covered it with kisses: he\nlistened with delight to the voice that issued from those flowers\nand that told him such sweet words. A flame seemed to mingle with\ntheir perfumes that carried a new life to his heart; but it\ncarried there also the light. Another voice made itself heard and\nshowed him the truth, and he fell from the regions of happiness\nwhere his dream had carried him, into the implacable reality; for\nhe then discovered with what sort of an affection they were both\nanimated. And he a knight of the Order of Malta! If absence could\nhave given the repose of forgetfulness to Flaminia, Albert would\nnot have hesitated to have left her at once. But if there exist\nattachments so slight that the simple absence of their object is\nsufficient to cure them, so there are others which may be likened\nto those long-lived plants that extend their roots in all\ndirections and all depths; so that one cannot tear them from the\nsoil in which they have once gained a hold. Such affections as\nthese resist all human efforts, and absence but serves to render\ntheir wounds more poignant and more lively. Albert understood too\nwell the character of Flaminia not to know that their destiny was\nirrevocably fixed. Divine Providence seemed to have drawn them\ntogether in this world but to make them merit, by a sacrifice of\ntheir affections, the happiness that was destined for them in the\nnext. The ordinary remedy of absence would have been useless in\ntheir case. Albert understood this, and the idea of getting\nhimself absolved from his vows of knighthood came to him. This\nthought he repelled. It was not that he believed the success of\nsuch a measure impossible, but that he saw in it a desertion of\nhis duty; he felt that his conscience would not be in\ntranquillity, and that it would perpetually remind him that one\ncannot thus break his engagements with God. He knelt down\npiously, and that which passed in his soul during that cruel\nnight, and that which he suffered during that struggle, ever\nrested a secret between him and God.\n{78}\nFor you, scholar of the eighteenth century, it is an unpardonable\nweakness that of placing one's self humbly on one's knees before\nthe Divine Majesty. Yet, thanks only to this weakness, Albert, in\nall the force of youth, resisted without failing before the most\nimpetuous, the most irresistible of all our passions, and came\nforth victorious out of the rudest combat that he had ever given.\nHe loved, passionately, Flaminia: Flaminia, beautiful, rich in\nheart and soul, full of all the merits, of all the virtues, that\ncan entrance at the same time the heart, the soul, and the\nsenses; Flaminia, who loved him with an equal ardor, and who\nconfided herself to him absolutely and without reserve. He had\nover her an absolute power, and, far from using it, he subdued\nhis passion, and, directing by a determined will the tumultuous\nwaves of his heart, he traversed without shipwreck those tempests\nthat are more ungovernable than the rage of the ocean. The\nstrength with which he aided himself was that same weakness which\nmakes you smile. Had he trusted only in himself, he would have\nfallen, because he was but a man; he implored the aid of him who\nis strength itself, and he vanquished. Faith was for him what the\nfortifying oil was with which the athletes rubbed their bodies\nbefore the struggle; and, not content with aiding him to overcome\nhimself, she knew also how to dry his tears by the blessed aid of\nhope. For, at the same time that she showed him in all their\nbarrenness the painful paths of duty, she let him see at the end\nof the journey, and as the price of his victory, that eternal\nunion of souls which time itself is powerless to break. I know\nyou to be prejudiced, my dear Frederick, on all that which\ntouches religious questions; but, at the same time, I know you to\nbe of too good faith not to acknowledge that there is truly\nsomething superhuman in a doctrine which gives such victories;\nneither shall I insist on the detail of the events which occurred\nduring the six months that Albert yet passed by the side of\nFlaminia, for they would have no value in my recital. It would\nnot, perhaps, be without a certain interest to follow the\ndevelopments of that affection, so completely purified from all\nearthly thoughts; but, as there are certain situations where a\nlook, a smile, takes the proportions of a veritable event, it\nwould be necessary for me to enter into the very slightest points\nof its psychology. On learning the gravity of the wounds of his\nbrother, Adolph Shraun had come in all haste to the palace Balbo.\nAntonia failed not to produce in his heart an impression as\nprofound, but more decisive, than that which Flaminia had already\naroused in his brother. As he knew that the project of an\nalliance would be joyfully received in the two families, Antonia\nwas not long without knowing the sentiments which she had\nenkindled. The frank, impetuous, and lively character of Adolph\nhad already predisposed her in his favor, so that she quickly\nshared the same sentiments and hopes as himself. Joy renders us\nmuch more disposed to confidence than does sorrow, and Antonia\ndid not fail to feel the need of confiding to some one both her\nsecret and her love. This need caused her to seek in Flaminia for\nsympathy, and the reciprocal confidence which was due between\nthese two young hearts, so well formed to love and sustain each\nother, was then established for ever. The _na\u00efve_\nconfidences of her sister enlightened Flaminia on her own\nsentiments, and carried into her soul the light that she had but\ncaught glimpses of before.\n{79}\nShe then understood the nature of her destiny, and, like Albert,\nshe accepted it without a murmur. She took refuge in the\nconsoling thought that their union would be accomplished in those\ncelestial regions where only reign the eternal laws of love; and\nthus placing her hopes upon a sure basis, she resigned herself to\nher cross, prayed, and awaited God's will. I think that I have\nquite sufficiently instructed you upon the state of these noble\nhearts; so that I can arrive at that which is the object of my\nstory--namely, to tell you how it was that my great-grandfather,\nAdolph, saw, one day, two souls.\" The Baron Frederick could not\nhere repress a deep sigh of satisfaction, and the count, who\nnoticed nothing, continued: \"The hours, which their separation\nwas soon to render so long, passed away with a cruel rapidity;\nthe moment approached when Albert ought to leave Flaminia, that\nhe might report himself to the Grand-Master Coroner, who was then\npreparing an expedition directed against Napoli of Roumania, and\nthe few days they had yet to pass together made them feel still\nmore strongly the happiness that they were about to lose.\nGiovanni had announced his intention of following his friend, and\ntheir approaching departure had cast a shade of sadness on that\nhousehold, lately so joyous that it had seemed a nest hidden from\nthe world, where alone happiness dwelt. One evening, when,\naccording to their usual custom, they were all grouped together\nunder the shadow of the vines, the conversation took a melancholy\nform, and the fear that reigned in all their hearts expressed\nitself by words: they were talking of death. 'Come, come,' said\nthe Prince Balbo, after a few minutes of discussion on the\nsubject, 'what is the use of these fears? When duty calls, we\nmust obey, not only by action, but in heart, and without regret.\nBesides,' he added, 'the hour of our death is not in our own\nchoice; and none are protected from his stroke when God calls the\nangel of death and says, \"Strike!\" I have, like you, my children,\nincurred many perils in my life, and yet sixty winters have\nwhitened my head; and how many have I not seen of those whose\nlife was peaceable--of flourishing youth--sheltered from all\nharm, who have been struck down before their time! Let us confide\nin God, my children; let us resign ourselves beforehand to his\nwill, which is always just, always good--since he is eternally\njust and good.'\n\n\"Flaminia, crushed by the grief of a separation that snatched\naway from her for ever the half of her soul, had, until these\nlast words of her father, remained silent; but then, lifting her\nhead and leaning slightly toward Albert, said to him in a tone\nthat was audible only to him, 'Yes, happily, one dies at every\nage.'\n\n\"Albert understood her thought.\n\n\"'Do you not, then, think on the grief of those who are left?'\nanswered he, in a voice of low reproach.\n\n\"'Oh!' replied she quickly, 'if I die first, I will come to seek\nyou.'\n\n\"Before that cry, uttered from the heart, before that affection\nthat felt itself sufficiently strong to vanquish the laws of\ndeath, sufficiently holy that God should grant it a miracle,\nsilence could be the only answer; but a glance of Albert replaced\nwith all the eloquence of the heart the powerless word. On the\nmorrow of that evening, Albert left Flaminia. I will not paint to\nyou their affliction. It was immense. But a hope that is too ill\nknown in this, our century, sustained their courage and energy.\n{80}\nAt the moment of an adieu so cruel to both, not a tear fell from\ntheir eyes. That they did flow, and most abundantly and bitterly,\nthere is no doubt, since grief never loses its rights, and human\nforce, even the best sustained, has its bounds; but they flowed\nin silence and in secret, and he who was their only witness\ntreasured them up. The days, the months, the seasons passed on;\nthree times the trees had lost their foliage and renewed their\nleaves; three times had the alley of vines seen the winter's sun\npass unobstructed through their naked branches. All had changed\naround them; their hearts alone changed not. The renown of Albert\ngrew each day, with his valor, more brilliant; but it was no\nlonger renown that he sought, it was a death that would have\nopened before him that wide field where impatience dies away\nbefore the eternity that then commences; death that he desired\nbecause it would have brought him near to Flaminia; and death\nwould not listen to him. In vain did he fling himself into the\nthickest of the danger; in vain did he accomplish prodigies that\nhad caused the bravest to turn pale; he passed through all these\nwithout even a wound. Although he had but very rare occasion of\nknowing what passed in that cherished spot where ever rested his\nheart and thoughts, still he doubted not but that the tenderness\nof Flaminia was as lively and as deep as his own; nor did he\ndeceive himself. Flaminia had refused under different pretexts\nthe offers that had been made to her; and notwithstanding all the\ndesire they felt to establish their daughter, I would dare to\naffirm that it was not without a certain secret joy that the\nPrince and Princess Balbo looked upon the prospect before them,\nthe hope of keeping her always by their side. Do not blame them\ntoo quickly, my friend; for it is a painful thought that during\ntwenty years a child should have been the object of your\naffection and of your solicitude; that she should have taken the\nbest and largest portion of your life and heart, in order that,\none day, a stranger, under the title of a new-born love, should\ncarry away from you all your joy; leaving you to see your\nmuch-loved child place herself under another protection than\nthine, and quit without regret the house where she leaves a blank\nthat nothing else can fill.\n\n\"I had almost forgotten to tell you that Antonia had married\nAdolphus, and lived happy and peaceful in this same castle where\nwe now are finishing our career. Albert, tired of war, and freed\nfrom all further illusions of glory, had come, after having\nrefused the highest distinctions of the order, to seek some\nrepose by his brother's side. Ambition was dead in him; his soul,\nthat had been so severely proved, had need of recollection and\ncalm; and he found this by the side of him whom, after Flaminia,\nhe loved the best in the world. Moreover, although he himself\nscarcely ever spoke of her who filled all his thoughts, still he\nfelt a lively pleasure in hearing her spoken of so frequently by\nhis brother and his wife. Albert was then calm and composed; he\nmarched courageously forward in life as does the traveller who\nclimbs with difficulty the bare paths of a desolate and arid\nmountain, sure to find in the evening the joys of the fireside\nand the shelter of his friends' roof.\n\n\"Three years, day by day, had passed away since the moment when\nAlbert had quitted the palace Balbo. It was the evening; Adolphus\nand Antonia were by his side, in this same saloon where we now\nare.\n{81}\nContrary to his custom, Albert, for whom that anniversary was a\nday of mourning, felt his soul full of a penetrating and serene\njoy, when ten o'clock sounded from that same clock that--\"\n\nHere the recital of the count was interrupted by the sound of the\nclock which resounded in the vast apartment. One would have said\nthat it affirmed the words of the count, by repeating the ten\nstrokes which it had caused to be heard at the moment of which he\nwas speaking. That metallic sound seemed to have in it an unusual\npower; there was something solemn in its grave slowness; in the\ndeep noise of the wheel drawn round by the falling lead, which\naccompanied with its heavy base the more piercing sound that\ntraversed the thick oaken case. Both the count and his friends\nwere seized by an impression which they did not seek to dispel or\nresist. Both instinctively uncovered their heads, and while the\ncount waited almost respectfully until its last vibrations were\nlost in silence, the baron, more moved than perhaps he was\nwilling to show, placed on the table his pipe, yet fully charged\nwith tobacco, and, an event that certainly had not occurred with\nhim once in ten years, he left that inseparable companion of his\nleisure hours, without touching the tankard that in vain offered\nto his gaze its brown and golden tints.\n\n\"Ten o'clock had then sounded,\" continued the count, \"and that\nbeing the moment when each was accustomed to separate for their\nbedrooms, Adolphus had got up and looked at his brother, who had\nbeen for some time previous motionless and in an attitude of\nprofound attention, resembling a man who follows with his ear the\nscarcely perceptible sounds of some distant harmony.\n\n\"All is finished,' murmured Albert at the moment when the clock\nhad finished striking; and, placing his hand on his brother's\narm, 'Remain here,' said he, and turning toward Antonia: 'Pardon\nme, my sister, if I thus detain Adolphus; but I have need of him\nto-night, and to-morrow it will be too late.'\n\n\"'You frighten me,' answered Antonia; 'what then is going to\nhappen?'\n\n\"'You will know very soon,' replied Albert. 'Poor sister! your\neyes will shed many a tear; but they will be dried by the thought\nthat the motive which causes them to flow assures for ever the\nhappiness of those who are dear to you.'\n\n\"He then kissed her forehead, and, followed by Adolphus, went to\nhis own room, the same which is now yours, dear Frederick.\n\n\"'What is the matter with you?' asked Adolphus of his brother, as\nsoon as they were alone.\n\n\"'I am sad and happy at the same time; sad because I am going to\nleave you alone for a short time; but very happy because I go at\nlast to rejoin her, and for this time not again to leave her!'\n\n\"'Explain yourself; why do you leave us?'\n\n\"'Listen: for that you may understand what is going to happen\nhere this night, it is necessary that you should know what I have\nfelt and suffered during the past three years.'\n\n\"Albert then told him of all that which I have just described to\nyou; of his love for Flaminia, of his struggles, and of his\nvictory, over himself; and Adolphus, who already knew through his\nwife of what Flaminia had suffered, saw with astonishment that\nall which had been felt by the one had also been by the other, in\nthe same degree and at the same moment. Never had the most\nprofound sympathy established between two beings a more complete\nidentity of sensations and thoughts; near or separated, their two\nexistences had formed but a single life, as their two souls\nseemed to form but a single soul. When Albert had finished his\nrecital, he added:\n\n{82}\n\n\"'\"If I die first, I shall come to seek you!\" Flaminia had told\nme, and now Flaminia has just died. Do not ask me how I know it,\nfor I am ignorant myself of the reason; but I do know it. I have\nfollowed, moment by moment, the progress of her death; at the end\nI have felt her die, and now I await her coming. In a few\ninstants more she will be here, and we shall depart together for\nthat blessed home where nothing can again oppose itself to our\neternal union. It seems to me that already I feel my soul\ndisengaging itself from its bonds; I no longer regard the\nsufferings that I have endured, except with that sentiment of\nthankfulness and joy which one feels at the recollection of\nperils that have been overcome; my past sufferings have no longer\ntheir sting, my tears no longer their bitterness! At the solemn\nmoment when I am about to quit a life that has been most painful\nin its trials for the happy life of triumph, I have wished to\nhave you by my side, that I might say to you my last farewell in\nthis world, and press for a last time your hand before going to\nawait you in eternity.' I leave you to think, my dear Frederick,\nwhat must have been the astonishment of Adolphus at receiving\nthis strange confidence.\n\n\"'I have too much confidence in the firmness of your reason,' he\nanswered to his brother after a short silence, 'to believe that\nit has become weakened, were it only for a moment; but do you not\nfear to have been the victim of some mental illusion, and to have\ntaken for a reality that which was in reality only the dream of\nyour heart exalted by sadness and solitude?'\n\n\"'I understand your incredulity,' answered Albert, 'for I have\nmyself shared in it. Each time that the recollection of that\npromise presented itself to my memory, my reason revolted against\nsuch an evident impossibility; the soul cannot again appear in\nthis world once that it has quitted it, thought I, and yet I\ncounted on the premise even while I disbelieved its possibility.\nOnly an hour ago, I yet doubted, but now that doubt has passed\naway, since the moment when her dying voice sounded in my ears\nuttering her last words: \"You have waited for me; I am here!\"\nThen I understood that it was not merely the strong desire of a\nsoul overexcited by the desire to be reunited to the second half\nof itself that I felt, but that it was really a mysterious\nwarning; and the accomplishment of a promise that God himself had\nblessed, and that he permitted to be fulfilled.'\n\n\"'But how to explain this miracle?'\n\n\"'I am unable to explain it; I tell you what is about to happen,\nthat is all that I can do. In a few minutes Flaminia will be\npresent, and in seeing her you will believe me. For the rest,'\nadded he, after a moment's pause, 'all is a mystery in this\nworld, but the grand end of all is sufficient to enlighten our\npaths. Do you think that it would be more easy for me to tell you\nhow it is that, notwithstanding we have never said anything to\neach other that could divulge the mutual state of our hearts, we\nhave yet, in spite of our separation, lived by the same life and\nthe same love? That you cannot believe me, I know, but only wait\na little time, and you shall see.'\n\n{83}\n\n\"In truth, Adolphus did not believe, although the evidently\nprofound conviction of Albert shook his mind and caused in him an\nimpression that he would gladly have shaken off, so contrary to\nreason did it seem to him. 'Let us make haste, the time presses,'\nsaid Albert. He then arranged in order, with rapidity and calm,\nseveral important affairs with which he was charged, relating to\nthe principal commanderies of Germany; then, kneeling down, he\noffered up a short prayer; scarcely had he finished, than, rising\nup quickly, he seized the hand of his brother, and cried: 'Look!\nshe is come.' Adolphus turned round, and saw Flaminia standing by\nthe side of Albert. You who have lost some one who was dear to\nyou, Frederick, you have remarked that, at the moment when the\nlast sigh escapes and before the work of decay begins, the face\nis possessed of a calm beauty, supernatural and indefinable in\nits expression, that inspires an awed respect for that now\nlifeless form which just a moment before contained a soul. Such\nlooked Flaminia; her figure, surrounded by a luminous atmosphere,\nhad received from immortality an august expression. It was\nperfectly the form of Flaminia, such as Adolphus had known her,\nbut it was no longer the creature that is imperfect, and subject\nto the attacks of time and life. It was the being imperishable\nwho, coming forth victorious from her many trials, bore in her\nall the splendors of her glory. Her beauty was not that which\ncharms by the uniformity, more or less complete, of its\nlineaments; no, it was the celestial beauty whose type is graven\nin ourselves; the beauty a single ray of which suffices to\nilluminate the face that hides a pure soul: this was the beauty\nsublime that enveloped her with its divine wings, and\ntransfigured her face while changing its lineaments. Adolphus\nbent his knee before the vision. 'Had I not told you that she\nwould come?' said Albert to his brother. 'Yes!' replied a\nharmonious voice, which issued from the then incorruptible lips\nof Flaminia. 'Yes! our love was too pure not to merit its\nrecompense. God has permitted it; you waited for me, and I am\ncome.' She bent slightly toward him to whom she at length was\nabout to be united, and, surrounding him with her arms, she drew\nhis face closer to her own, that gleamed with a celestial joy.\nBehind them, and contemplating them, stood Death, not under the\nform of fleshless skeleton, but as a radiant angel who changes\nbitterness into joy, and tears into smiles. His beautiful face\nbore the impress of grave majesty rather than of severity,\nsoftened by that infinite mercy which gives hope to repentance.\nThe mercy and goodness of the Master who sends him shone in his\nlook, which is so sweet to the contemplation of the soul wearied\nby the painful journey of life. The hour was come! At the moment\nwhen Flaminia, in a manner, took possession of Albert, the angel\nof Death drew near him, and while with one hand he touched his\nshoulder, with the other he pointed toward heaven. Albert's body\nfell back into the arm-chair, which, living, he had just\noccupied; and when Adolphus, drawn forward by an instinctive\nmotion, ran to support him, he saw by the side of Flaminia the\nform of his brother, that shone forth surrounded by the same\nglory and the same joy. He passed the rest of the night by the\nside of his brother's body, and wept, though not over him whom he\nhad just seen pass away to heaven. The man whom faith sustains\nwith its sweet consolation weeps not the loss of his friend, but\nhis absence.\n{84}\nHe wept because every separation, even the shortest, is a grief,\nand his tears were dried by the certainty that Albert was in the\npossession of a happiness that could neither diminish nor fade,\nand which he hoped one day to share with him.\"\n\nThe count here left off his story. The baron had listened to him\nwith a sustained attention, and although he preserved his\nimperturbable calm, yet the recital had so much moved him, that\nhe remained silent; and the count, after waiting a few minutes,\ncontinued: \"Such is the history of my great-uncle Albert, as it\nhas been transmitted to us by him who was the witness. Do you\nfind it, then, surprising that the faith should be hereditary in\na family where such facts happen? What can you reply to this\nhistory?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" answered the baron, \"except that, to draw the\nconsolations which it contains, one must have the faith; and\nbesides, in supposing that God, if he exists, interferes with the\naffairs of this world, he is unjust, since he refuses to me the\nconsolation that he gives to others.\"\n\n\"Have you ever asked him for it?\" answered the count with a\nfriendly severity. \"Have you not, on the contrary, repulsed by a\ndetermined obstinacy the solicitations of divine Providence?\nPardon me, my friend, if I awaken a painful recollection for you,\nbut have you not even resisted the awful voice of Death?\"\n\n\"What is the good of my asking?\" replied the baron, eluding the\nsecond part of his friend's demand. \"If faith be necessary, God\nowes it to me without asking him.\"\n\n\"Food is also necessary,\" answered the count, \"and does man find\nit ready for him, unless he works? No, no, my friend; labor and\nprayer, such is the destiny of man upon the earth. His material\nlife is bought by the sweat of his brow, as his spiritual life is\nthe price of his efforts. 'Seek, and you shall find; knock, and\nit shall be opened unto you,' has said the divine Master. Ah! if\nyou had ever knelt before that God whom you blaspheme; if you had\nwith perseverance exposed to him your doubts, your miseries, you\nwould have known that he never leaves without help the soul that\nsincerely implores him; you would have known that he never hides\nhimself from him who seeks him with a humble and contrite spirit\nand a pure heart. Pray, my dear Frederick, pray, I tell you, and\nyou will feel that he is near to you; that his arms are open to\nreceive you, and his hands ready to shed on you all the sweet\nconsolations and hopes with which they are filled!\"\n\nIt was now late; the two friends then separated, and, without\ndoubt, the count that night in his prayers demanded with more\nthan usual fervor the conversion of the man he so warmly loved.\nOrdinarily, on gaining his room, the baron was accustomed to\ninstall himself as comfortably as possible in an immense old\nleathern arm-chair, whose age dated back for two or three\ncenturies, which he placed in front of the wood fire that burnt\nnoisily on the hearth; and after having again lit his pipe, that\ninseparable friend, he used to take a book, and, stretching out\nhis feet upon the copper fire-dogs, wait until he felt sleepy,\nwhich invariably occurred as soon as there remained no more\ntobacco in the sculptured wooden bowl of his pipe.\n\n{85}\n\nBut on that night he cast around him many a curious look, and\nexamined with as great an attention, one after the other, the\nseveral pieces of antique furniture with which his room was\nfurnished, as though it had been the first time that he had seen\nthem; then, in place of sitting down in that ancient arm-chair,\nwhich he preferred to all the others on account of its large\ndimensions, he placed it in front of him, and, sitting down on\nthe most modern of his chairs, he regarded with a questioning\ncuriosity and certain respect that mute witness of an adventure,\nthe mere recital of which had caused so great a trouble in his\nmind; seeming to ask of it a solution to his doubts and fears.\nAfter a long and silent contemplation, he let fall his forehead\non his hands, and, plunging his fingers among his hair, whitened\nrather by sorrow than by age, began to meditate profoundly. The\nagitation of his mind was so great, and the flow of his thoughts\nso rapid, that, without knowing it, he began to think aloud. \"If\nwhat he said were true, if there were something within us that\noutlived our bodies, I could see thee again, my dearest and\nbest-beloved Gertrude; and I could again find the joys of our too\nshort union, and this time for always, unchanging and eternal!\nAnd ought I to repulse that thought through the childish fear of\nabandoning myself to a false hope? Of these two ideas were it not\nbetter to follow that which gives us consolation and causes us to\nlive, rather than that which thickens around us the already too\nprofound shades of life, and changes our grief into despair? What\nconsolation have I ever found in the reason of which I am so\nproud? None! If pride has withheld my tears before men, yet since\ntwenty years they have flowed on in silence without their source\nbeing yet dry. If I have blushed to let my weakness be seen by\nmen, have I not felt it a thousand times within me, implacable,\nand terrible, before my vain revolts against a destiny that broke\nmy heart and that I was forced to submit to? When beside her\ndeath-bed I felt but a sterile despair, when my will, my love,\nwere powerless to retain for a single moment the last sigh of\nthat life that I would have been willing to prolong at the\nexpense of my own days, what have I been able to do? Nothing! not\neven to die! Since twenty years I implore the oblivion which\nflies before me! Since twenty years, I recoil before the thought\nto precipitate myself therein! Is it fear that hinders me? No! I\nhave faced the peril when my duty demanded it, and I would do it\nagain: I have too often seen Death to fear him. The reason is\nthat a secret voice speaks within me higher than all the sophisms\nof my grief, and tells me that I have not the right to destroy\nthe life which I did not give myself. Yet if there is nothing\nbeyond the tomb, why should I fear it, and what have I to dread\nfrom oblivion? Have I not the most absolute right on myself,\nsince all ends but in a dreamless sleep? Is it really a sleep?\nAh! there is the truth, both for me and for all others; it is\nthat in secret I doubt as often of that oblivion that I so loudly\naffirm, as I do whether that God does not exist whose existence I\nso deny. Yet again, if God is but an imaginary being, and if\nimmortality is but a dream, what does one risk to have thought\nthe contrary? One would have lived fortified against the ills and\ncrosses of this life by a thought that sweetens, even the terrors\nof death. One would not even feel the loss of that hope, since\nthe hour of our disenchantment would be the one which should\nplunge us into the deep repose of oblivion! The lie, then, would\nhave done that which the truth could not do; it would have given\nus happiness. If, on the contrary, immortality is not a vain\nchimera, but a reality, is it not a terrible responsibility to\nhave shut one's heart to its evidence and to have misunderstood\nthe sublime Author of all things?\n{86}\nYes! in truth terrible; for in that momentous question, doubt is\nnot to be permitted. On all human questions indifference follows\nuncertainty, but here indifference is itself a fault--one must\ndeny or believe. But how am I to believe? When from earliest\nchildhood you have had your aspirations broken or wounded under\nthe repeated blows of contempt, and when you have been taught but\nto laugh at in others that faith whose absence you shall one day\nso bitterly deplore, how then to believe? Pray, he told me. Pray!\nCan I pray? Oh! happy are they who, arrived like me at that sad\nepoch in life when one drags painfully along the burden of one's\nworn-out days, have not to curse those who held them away from\nthat source of strength and consolation! Yes, they are happy whom\na pious mother taught from their cradle to bend the knees and\njoin the hands in prayer! Gertrude also, she too prayed; and many\na time have I felt myself touched in seeing her bend her head\nbefore the God of whom she asked for me the light of the faith.\nHow many times have I not felt the desire to share her belief,\nand to kneel down like her and say: 'My dear Gertrude, there\nexists no place on this earth where we ought to be separated;\nthere is not a thought, a belief, an affection, that ought not to\nbe shared by us. Whatever may be the destiny that awaits us after\nthe destruction of our being, whether it be oblivion or\nimmortality, I wish to share it with you. Let your convictions be\nmine also, even as your life is mine. After having given me\nhappiness in this world, show me the road that leads to that\neternity I wish to believe in because you believe; make me to\nknow that God whom I wish to love because you love him!' But\nalas! held by a false shame, I resisted that voice which spoke in\nthe depth of my heart, and which, perhaps, was the voice of God:\nfor is it not possible that such feelings as these are those by\nwhich Providence calls us to the truth? And I, how have I\nresponded to that voice? Why, by rallying her on her belief. I\ncaused her tears to flow, the only ones most certainly, but today\nthey fall heavily upon my heart. And now friendship speaks to me\nthis day the very same language that did of old her love. Shall I\nyet remain deaf? Ought I to cede to or resist the voice which now\nspeaks to me? O Albert! you on whom was accomplished, in the room\nwhere I am, and in that arm-chair that I now look on, so\nincomprehensible a mystery, cannot you come in aid of the most\nfaithful friend that your family ever had!\" And the excellent\nbaron, letting himself be carried away by his emotion, found\nhimself, without knowing how, on his knees before that chair in\nwhose arms Albert had died; and the head covered by his hands,\nand the heart filled with the thirst for truth, he prayed: \"O my\nGod!\" prayed he, \"if it is true that you are not a vain creation\nof the weakness or of the pride of man; if it is true that you\ncontinue to watch with solicitude over the creature who has\nissued from your hands, you will not see without pity the heart\nfull of trouble that I lift up toward you. Led astray by the\nhabits begun in childhood, I have perhaps followed error thinking\nto follow the truth; but I have done it in all sincerity and\nthrough love of the truth. If I am deceived, O God! enlighten my\ntrembling soul, dissipate the doubt which is crushing me, and\ndraw toward you the soul that seeks you and desires you! And you,\nGertrude, dear companion too soon lost to me, if you see my\nregrets that time cannot extinguish; and the tears that your\nmemory costs me, ask of your God that he make himself known to\nme; ask him that I may adore him as you adored him, and, above\nall, ask him that I may again be united to you.\"\n\n{87}\n\nHis voice died away then, and yet his prayer continued. His soul,\noverexcited with the emotions of that night, poured itself out\nbefore God without following any line of thought. It was an\nimmense lifting up of his whole being toward the truth--an ardent\nthirst for hope; it was the twenty years of a mute despair that\nresumed itself into a supreme cry; it was the heart, so pure and\nso good, of that worthy man, that opened itself completely and\nmounted full of desires and tears, carrying with it the most\nfervent prayer that had ever reached the immovable throne of the\nEternal. At last the baron arose, but in place of at once laying\nhimself down to sleep on the bed, whose soft pillows vainly\ninvited him to repose, he retook his former position and began to\nreflect. The thoughts pressed so tumultuously in his brain,\nordinarily so calm, and succeeded each other with so great a\nrapidity, that he could but vaguely seize them. His eyes, fixed\nupon the light flame that yet burned on the hearth, saw not that\nthey expired one by one. The last played yet some time on the log\ncovered with white ashes, disappearing for a moment to again\nreappear in another spot; at length it died out. The lamp burned\nwith a reddened glare through its lack of oil, and yet the baron\ndid not move. How long he had rested in that state of semi-sleep\nis what he never knew himself, when to the dying gleam of the\nlamp succeeded so brilliant a light that the baron always\nmaintained that one so intense had never before shone on mortal\neyes; at the same time brilliant and soft, it penetrated all\nobjects without causing them to cast any shadow, and, as it were,\ndrowned them in a sea of light. The baron lifted up his head at\nthis unexpected brilliancy; he wished to speak, and his voice\nexpired on his opened lips; but he distinctly heard these words:\n\"Frederick, the prayers of your beloved Gertrude have been at\nlength heard; the straight-forwardness and simplicity of your\nheart have found grace before the throne of the Eternal Master;\nhe smiles on those who imitate him. He loves those who, like him,\nbear their cross with courage, and drink without feebleness the\nchalice of bitterness that is offered to all, without exception,\nin this life of probation. If it has been that, until now, you\nhave rested deaf to the warnings that divine Providence sent you,\nat least you have listened with docility to that which was\ncontained in the recital of your friend, and it was not without a\nreason that he was inspired to tell the true legend of the loves\nof Flaminia and Albert to you this night. The faith that\nstrengthens the soul in the midst of the calamities of life\ndescended into your heart and penetrated it with its salutary\nardors at the moment when, breaking your pride before your will,\nyou have knelt down before the Lord and asked of him the light;\nyou could not remain always out of the truth; you, the devoted\nfriend, the faithful husband; you whose entire life has been but\na long research for the rarest virtues, and who feel, beating in\nyour breast as noble and loving a heart as ever animated a human\nform.\" Here the brilliant light faded slowly away. The lamp was\nextinguished, and the blackened, logs gave forth no glimmer of\nlight.\n{88}\nThe baron gained, by feeling his way, his bed, and laid himself\non it, feeling himself full of an unknown joy, understanding the\nduties of a Christian, and resolved to perform them. He fell\nasleep in thinking of that happy day when should be restored to\nhim that wife whom he had never ceased to love. The next morning,\nwhen he descended to the saloon where all the family were united,\nhe embraced his friend's wife, and kissed, one after another, her\nchildren and grandchildren, who were all there that day at the\ncastle; and all this with a demonstration of joy so contrary to\nhis usual phlegmatic manner that it for the moment gave cause to\nfear for his reason; and then, approaching the count, who\nregarded him with stupefaction, he embraced him vigorously, and\nsaid to him, while wiping his eyes, humid with tears of joy: \"Ah!\nyou are right, my dear friend; I shall see again my Gertrude!\"\n\n ----------\n\n Talleyrand,\n by Lytton Bulwer.[Footnote 18]\n\n [Footnote 18: _Historical Characters. By Sir Henry Lytton\n Bulwer, G.C.B. Two vols., 8vo. Richard Bentley, New\n Burlington street, London_. 1868.]\n\nSir Henry Lytton Bulwer has presented the public with sketches of\nsome eminent men, and has done his work well. It is not a series\nof biographies, but rather a finished outline of their prominent\ncharacteristics and of their achievements. In advance of the\nmemoirs of Talleyrand, written by himself, and now in course of\npublication, this illustrious Frenchman is placed among the\nnumber, and in a new light. He is no longer the inscrutable being\nhe appeared to his contemporaries, and as he has appeared since\nto their children. His name has been intimately associated with\nthe great men and events of the last years of the unfortunate\nreign of Louis XVI. of France, near the close of the last\ncentury. Still more prominently is the memory of him associated\nwith the convocation of the States-General and the National\nAssembly. By accident, he had the good fortune to be free from\nthe odium attached to the Legislative Assembly and the atrocities\nof the National Convention, with the attendant horrors of the\nCommittee of Public Safety in the Reign of Terror.\n\nHe fled from France in all haste as an _\u00e9migr\u00e9_, and yet was\nlucky to avoid being classed with the aristocrats and so-called\nenemies of his country. He was prominent in the Revolution,\nwithout the stain of a regicide; he was a fugitive with the loyal\ncrowd, without being stigmatized as a royalist. No amount of\nhuman foresight could have served him as a safe guide to shun the\ndangers which beset his fame and security on either side. His\nsuccess was altogether fortuitous; but his friends attribute all\nto his superior sagacity and wisdom, while his enemies ascribe it\nto his remarkable cunning and prudence. When the days of danger\nand of blood passed by, Talleyrand returned to Paris with\n_prestige_, and was immediately employed by the Directory.\nWhen that went down, he floated to the surface with Bonaparte in\nthe consulate and empire. Upon the fall of the empire, with the\nentrance of the allied armies into the capital he was their\ntrusted counsellor.\n{89}\nThe restoration of the Bourbons was at once accompanied with the\nrestoration of Talleyrand to the foreign office and to the head\nof affairs. When the Bourbons were expelled, in 1830, he was\nagain reinstated by Louis Philippe, under whose reign he died in\n1838, with that sovereign an attendant at his death-bed.\n\nIn truth, the same good fortune set in his favor when he was a\nboy: but it came in the guise of a calamity. Neglect on the part\nof a nurse resulted in a slight lameness for life in his legs,\nand in consequence a family council was convened wherein it was\ndecided he should be deprived of his rights of primogeniture, of\nhis high station as a nobleman, and of the wealth which went with\nthem. His younger brother was substituted, while Talleyrand was\ndestined for the priesthood. But such is the waywardness of fate\nthat in a few years nobility was abolished, its privileges\ndestroyed, and the nobles themselves were in exile, with his\nimpoverished brother among the number. On the other hand,\nTalleyrand entered the church; he became a bishop, and in turn he\ndeserted the church and his diocese when the road to greater\nworldly success and distinction led through desertion. He was\nexcommunicated by the pope when papal censure and condemnation\ncould only, for the time being, add to his popularity.\nSubsequently these were removed by the pontiff, when a brief to\nthat end, with the turning tide of events, was all that was\nwanting to increase his _prestige_.\n\nTo what peculiar talent, quality, or skill he was indebted for\nhis happy career has always been an open question; nor is it yet\ncompletely solved. Sir Henry does not undertake to discuss the\nproblem, although he must entertain an opinion on the subject.\nBut it is much better that he declined to propound any theory of\nhis own; for in doing so the readers of his book would have\nmisgivings that he tampered with some facts, or suppressed others\naltogether, in order to maintain it. His work in its present\nshape invites confidence, imports greater accuracy, and imparts\nadditional satisfaction. No one can distrust his historical\nintegrity, or doubt the extent of his inquiries and research in\nan honest endeavor to enlighten the public, or fail to appreciate\nthe information obtained. It is a decided accession to\nbiographical literature.\n\nNor are the opinions of the author, interspersed through the\npages, the least interesting part of his performance; for these\nopinions on the mighty men and events of the period to which he\nrefers may be taken as a reflex of the sentiments now current in\nthe continental diplomatic corps, of which Sir Henry is an old\nand constant member of high standing. In his expositions, it is\nentertaining to compare the slow, lagging judgment of Europe on\nthose times with American impressions, which are far more\ncorrect, enlightened, and advanced. The great idol which the\nforeign diplomatic community adores is success: Paris is its\npeculiar shrine; and Parisian society are fellow-worshippers.\nBut, until success is attained and established, their fetich\nimage is only one in the rough, to be hewed and hacked as cheap\nlumber. Napoleon and Talleyrand, during the long wars of the\nconsulate and empire, were not deemed by neighboring states as\nmuch better than misshapen monsters of the human species: while\nthe brilliancy of their achievements was dazzling the sight,\nbewildering the imagination, and extorting applause or admiration\non this side of the Atlantic.\n\n{90}\n\nWhen the sanguinary contest closed in Europe, the exhibition of\nits continuous blaze of glory had lost much of its novelty in\nAmerica; the ardor of our people commenced to cool down; they\nbegan to make a more dispassionate, and, consequently, a more\nrational estimate of their late heroes. This examination in some\nof its aspects was not favorable to the character of the\nrepublicans and of Napoleon. His genius, indeed, could not be\ndenied; his deeds were marvellous; the splendor of his course had\nnever been surpassed in ancient or modern ages; his individual or\npersonal popularity was not in the least impaired. But on the\nwhole, had his life been a blessing or otherwise to mankind? Had\nit been beneficial or injurious to progress? Had he or the\npreceding government of the Convention in the Reign of Terror\npromoted the welfare of France? Reluctantly but surely the\nAmerican mind came to the conviction that the wars of the emperor\nhad been as useless as they were prodigal of life, more\ndesolating than the bloody guillotine worked by Robespierre. That\ndecision will not soon be reversed; in all probability it will be\nconfirmed and strengthened by time. On the eastern continent,\nhowever, this stage of enlightenment has not been reached by the\nmass of the intelligent population; but they are coming up to it.\nNapoleon as the scourge had there to be withdrawn, before he\ncould reappear transformed into a hero, and from a hero into a\ngreat beneficent political being. His wars were there pronounced\nproductive of good, as a destructive fire that had consumed the\nvermin of class abuses; that had extirpated the noxious weeds\nstrangling civilization, which could not be eradicated by\npeaceful means; that the Reign of Terror had been a terrible\ntempest, to be sure, but a tempest, nevertheless, which, in the\noratorical figure of Lord Erskine, had driven away pestilence and\npurified the atmosphere. At this point European sentiment now\nstands.\n\nIn republican America, the next stride will be still in the\nadvance to the further conclusion, that Napoleon, in his martial\npolicy, evinced only the cold-blooded, inordinately selfish\ndespot, whose love of country was centred in self-love, whose\npatriotism for the State was unbounded when he was the State, for\nwhich he would sacrifice as much as Louis XIV. in a dazzling\nreign equally disastrous to the happiness of his subjects. But in\nEurope, to condemn the warlike propensities of Napoleon, is at\nthe same time to condemn the hostile coalitions that promoted or\nprovoked them. The measures adopted by inimical and rival powers\nto overthrow the French empire originated in passions and for a\npurpose fully as absurd and damaging to their own people. Both\nsides wanted war, without counting the cost, and now both are\ncounting the loss, when war is no longer wanted. The losing\nfigures present the longest columns to contemplative countenances\nthe most elongated. In this showing, the picture is not inviting\nto monarchical perceptions; they are unwilling to acknowledge the\nfidelity of the portrait. England was always first in heart and\nsoul in these conspiracies against the peace of Christendom, and\nEngland ever since has felt also, both first and last, the evil\neffects from the heaviest debts to be borne in consequence. Hence\nthe dispiriting consciousness in the best of British circles,\nthat France under Robespierre and Napoleon was matched in its\nfoolishness by England under Pitt and Castlereagh.\n{91}\nSomething like even-handed retributive justice was meted out to\nall four: Robespierre attempted self-destruction when the\nexecutioner at the guillotine awaited him; Castlereagh cut his\nown throat; Pitt pined away and died as he closed the map of\nEurope with his finger pointing to the fatal field of Austerlitz;\nNapoleon lingered out a miserable life on a barren rock. The\nadministrations of these men are now understood in the American\nrepublic, and have received the American condemnation. Talleyrand\nwas an inferior personage to them in power, but only one degree\nless; he was the greatest in importance, and in position of the\nsecond grade. He is not so well comprehended. They did not know,\nuntil now, he had said to Montalvert:\n\n \"You have a prejudice against me, because your father was an\n imperialist, and you think I deserted the emperor. I have never\n kept fealty to any one longer than he has been obedient to\n common sense. But if you judge all my actions by this rule, you\n will find that I have been eminently consistent.\" (P. 408.)\n\nThe cause of his success was generally found in his strict\nadherence to the maxim that\n\n \"The thoughts of the greatest number of intelligent persons in\n any time or country are sure, with a few more or less\n fluctuations, to become in the end the public opinion of their\n age or community.\" (P. 442.)\n\nHe profited by this experience and knowledge; he understood men;\nhe consulted public opinion, and followed it.\n\nFor these revelations and for these reasons, every line in the\nvolume of Sir Henry Lytton Bulwer attracts attention and invites\nscrutiny. Sir Henry's style, turn of thought, opinions, even his\nwords, must be weighed and studied, not only to gather the import\nof their meaning, but the exact shade of meaning. In this\ncritical examination, it will be discovered Sir Henry adheres to\nno fixed method or standard of composition. Sometimes he is easy,\nsmooth, and flowing as Joseph Addison; again he is terse as Dean\nSwift; sometimes he is turgid and rambling as a plenipotentiary\nwho has particular instructions to communicate nothing in very\nverbose sentences long drawn out, wherein he is neither choice in\nhis language nor correct in the common rules of grammar. Now,\ndiplomacy admits of all these varieties of writing, and Sir Henry\ntries them all. No pent-up uniformity contracts the powers of his\nrhetoric or vocabulary. In one paragraph he exercises the\nprecision of an algebraic formula; in another he wanders astray\nin the collocation of phrases with unguarded looseness. For him\nto write in his vernacular idiom must be something of an effort,\nalthough he can write well when on his good behavior; but it is\nevident he thinks in French. His ideas, thoughts, and some of his\nopinions and principles have consequently a Gallic tinge, and\nread like a translation; while others, if more cosmopolitan, are\nlimited to the tone pervading the diplomatic circle; and\ndiplomatists have among themselves a professional cant or set of\npolitical dogmas, which in a class less polished and select would\nbe mistaken for a species of slang.\n\nIt is interesting and instructive to be made familiar with their\nproverbial philosophy, but it does not follow the infallibility\nof their proverbs must be recognized. Many of Sir Henry's\nopinions, therefore, may meet with dissent on this side of the\nwater; much of his free and easy continental code he himself\nwould abhor if made applicable to British interests, British\npolitics, or British domestic ethics. In the cultivated opinion\nof the United States, the continental standard of justifiable\npolicy is even more detestable, and ought to be in all climes and\ncountries, in every latitude and longitude on the face of the\nearth.\n\n{92}\n\nCharles Maurice Talleyrand de P\u00e9rigord was born in 1754, of one\nof the most noble and ancient families in France. He was sent to\nthe Coll\u00e9ge d'Harcout, where he gained the first prizes;\ntransferred to the Seminary of St. Sulpice, his talents for\ndisputation and composition were long remembered; and when, at\nlast, sent to the Sorbonne, he was equally remarkable, although\ndestined for the church, as a very clever and a very profligate\nyoung gentleman. He made no secret of his dislike to the\nprofession chosen for him, but it was not doubted among those who\nknew him that he would reach its highest honors. In 1773, he\nentered the Gallican priesthood. When twenty years of age, his\ncountenance was peculiarly attractive. It was indicative of\nsoftness, yet of boldness; of imperturbability, yet of humor and\nwit. When somewhat older, his features wore a long, oval\nappearance; his eyes were blue, deep, and variable; his lips\nusually compressed with an ironical smile, but not of ill nature;\nhis nose, with clear-chiselled nostril, was delicate and slightly\nturned up; his voice deep toned, almost sepulchral. In five years\nhe was chosen to the distinguished post of agent-general of the\nFrench clergy, where he administered with great success the\necclesiastical revenues of immense amount, and where he first\nexhibited his financial abilities in the clearness and neatness\nof his statements and reports. He became Bishop of Autun in 1789.\n\n \"'He dressed,' says one of his many biographers, 'like a\n coxcomb, he thought like a deist, he preached like a saint. At\n once active and irregular, he found time for everything: the\n church, the court, the opera. In bed one day from indolence or\n debauch, up the whole of the following night to prepare a\n memoir or a speech. Gentle with the humble, haughty with the\n high; not very exact in paying his debts, but very scrupulous\n with respect to giving and breaking promises to pay them.'\" (P.\n 31.)\n\nEarly in life introduced into the salons of Paris, he readily\ncaught their spirit, and soon obtained the friendship of the\nleading encyclopaedists and philosophers of scientific and\nhistorical fame; he was on intimate terms with many well known in\nletters and in the arts. The celebrated wits of both sexes, the\nbeauties, the belles, courted his society; the charm of their\nbrilliant conversation, their versatile accomplishments, and\ntheir winning manners were fascinating and irresistible. These\ndivinities imagined they moved and had their being in a\nsublimated atmosphere far above and beyond the aspiration of\ncommon mortals; their sentiments breathed of perfect\nphilanthropy, expressed in terms and in tenderness befitting\npersons divinely inspired. Every allurement that could inspire\nthe imagination, every blandishment entrancing the senses, every\ngrace, talent, every ornament which could enhance the form or\nennoble the intellect, was cultivated and appreciated. Luxury in\ndress, in gems, in furniture, in equipage, in banquets, in music,\nin flowers, in painting, in frescoes, in sculpture, was displayed\nwith excess of prodigality which vied with the purest taste. An\nambrosial flavor of expression abounded in a common salutation; a\ndelicate oriental perfume seemed to permeate every compliment,\nnor was any remark deemed appropriate unless it contained a\ncompliment; eloquence was discarded because it was tinctured with\ntoo much external exhibition of feeling; it, moreover, took up\ntoo much precious time.\n{93}\nBut a higher art was attained in its stead--the art of\nepigrammatical brevity, to communicate in a half-line what an\noration could not teach in a half-hour; nor was an epigram deemed\nperfect when its wit was rare and its sense profound, unless it\ntended to a sneer at religion or goodness in mankind, or told a\nscandalous lie.\n\nThe pervading object, the avowed purpose in this society, was to\nseek pleasure, to declaim against abuses in institutions, moral,\npolitical, and Christian, in the public at large, in domestic\nhabits and manners, in the state, and in the church. But these\nrefined creatures were not good, nor moral, nor pure, nor\nChristians themselves; they made no pretensions to any of these\nvirtues; they were not proselyting reformers; they were in no\nsense radicals; they made no active exertions to pull down,\nneither did they aim to build up, nor to improve the world, but\nwere content to deplore human evils and to rail at everybody. If\na choice had been given to them to abolish institutions, or only\nto remove their abuses incident to all things of human creation,\nthey would have preferred to abolish the institutions, provided\nthe abuses were permitted to remain intact. But as they could not\nbe rid of the beneficial advantages of the substance without the\nbanishment of the evil shadow, they were content to tolerate the\nnuisance of what was a blessing to the nation, in order to\npossess for themselves the parts pernicious which were of sinful,\ncomfortable consideration in their sight. They supposed their\nmission fulfilled when they talked and did nothing. If one of the\ncoterie had turned patriot and aspired to usefulness, he would\nhave been deemed a harmless traitor, and commiserated for the\nfolly of his desertion. His efforts would have subjected him to\ntheir lamenting sympathy, their smiling mockery, their laconic\nbrevities, which, although seemingly soothing, would be as\nscorching as they were short. Because he had accomplished\nsomething commendable or attempted its accomplishment, they would\ndecide he had fallen from grace, had rendered himself liable to\ntheir biting condolence, and laid himself open to the piercing\nshafts of their pity. Voltaire, still lingering in his senility\nas head and chief priest of this highly refined and deeply\ndepraved community, had sent forth a parting rescript to the\nfaithful in their infidelity, that \"one who has done nothing is\npossessed of a terrible advantage; but he must not abuse it.\"\n\nTalleyrand, at the age of thirty-six, was fast rising to great\nprominence, if not pre-eminence in this unholy set. When Voltaire\nshould be called to his last account in another world, and his\nmortal remains repose in the P\u00e8re-la-Chaise or Parthenon, it was\ngenerally supposed the young Bishop of Autun would by common\nconsent be raised to the place of the old philosopher of Ferney.\nBut had it been thus, had the reign of the Bourbons been\nprolonged, Talleyrand would have betrayed and mocked the\nirreligious of the Palais Royal and St. Germain, as he bartered\naway the pious interests of his diocese. In some respects he\nresembled Voltaire, but in many more they widely differed. In\ngeneral he was in mind unlike to him, as he was in morals\ndissimilar to the late bishop. Voltaire was always in search of\nflattery; Talleyrand despised it. Voltaire was pleased with petty\nscheming and petty intrigues; Talleyrand pushed them aside.\nVoltaire betrayed and lampooned his friends; Talleyrand did not\ndeceive his, nor slander. Voltaire was much feared for his\nmalicious sarcasm; Talleyrand was well liked for his bounteous\nhumor.\n{94}\nThe one was a judge of books, as the other was a judge of men;\nthe one was always grumbling from his failures, the other always\ncontent with his success; the one injecting a telling point into\na falsehood, the other imparting force to a truth. Both were\ngreat in epigrammatic hits in their own way; with this\ndifference, however, that Voltaire, being soured with the world,\nexposed his asperity in his jests; while Talleyrand, pleased with\nit, concealed all vexation and rounded his remarks with an easy\nsmile. Voltaire was a spoiled child of society; society was a\nplaything for Talleyrand. In a word, the graceless bishop,\nintellectually, morally, socially, was the superior, and far\noutshone the snarling philosopher. Voltaire could never, in\nplaying long whist and counting his points, if informed that an\nold lady had married her footman, have drawled out, \"At nine\nhonors don't count;\" nor could he in pleasantry have said to\nFrederick of Prussia what Talleyrand remarked to Louis XVIII.:\n\"There is something inexplicable about me which brings ill luck\non the government that neglects me.\"\n\nBefore the death of Voltaire, the young Bishop of Autun had\ndiscovered, with his preternatural clearness of mental vision,\nthat the scoffers who were the embodiment of science,\nphilanthropy, and refinement, joined to profligate professors and\nshameless women, formed an institution, with its abominations\nalso, like all others; just as the holy church had its sacred\nvirtues scandalized by some glaring abuses among a portion of the\nclergy. The bishop must have felt that he constituted in himself\na type of what was good and of what was bad in each: he ardently\nloved science, art, and whatever was refining and progressive, as\nhe conscientiously revered the revealed truths of the Catholic\nfaith. But he could not resist the enticements and adulations of\nsociety; nor refuse the temptation to raise himself to political\npower by laying sacrilegious hands on the property of the church.\nNot for one moment, however, was he deceived by the sophistries\nor jargon of the infidel school that reigned supreme in polite\ncircles, and only once was his sound judgment found wanting in\nfidelity to his religious order, of which he was a most unworthy\nrepresentative. He confounded the abuses in the state, the\ndepravity of the aristocracy, the irregularities among the\nclergy, as one common class of grievances to the nation which\nought to be ended; but he did not desire to witness the sovereign\nbeheaded, the mob supreme, nor the idol of Reason enthroned in\nthe house of God.\n\nHis aim in life seems to have been the possession of unrivalled\n_prestige_ in Parisian society. To reach that pinnacle for\nhis ease, comfort, and earthly happiness, he did or was willing\nto do whatever would promote his purpose: he left undone whatever\nwould militate against it. He understood the requisites for its\nattainment, but would not sacrifice present tranquillity, the\nabsolute satisfaction now, for the shadowy anticipation in the\nfuture. Intellectual exertion was a pleasure to him at all times.\nHe desired wealth, rank, power, fame, as passports into the magic\ncircle of his ambition; but he held himself on a level with the\ngreat, while he treated the unfortunate, the weak, the\nunsuccessful, with undiminished attention. He was keenly\nsensitive to censure, for censure impaired his _prestige_.\n{95}\nPozzo de Borgo, a celebrated and rival diplomatist, once said of\nhim: \"This man has made himself great by placing himself always\nby the side of the little and among those who most need him.\" In\ntruth, he was willing to aid any one, powerful or weak, who could\nnow or hereafter aid him. But he never deceived those whom he was\nserving, nor cringed, nor intrigued, nor betrayed them; he was\nalways true to his country, and always sound in his judgment in\ndeciding by what line of conduct the interests of his country\ncould be best promoted.\n\nIn one instance only did he make a mistake, but that mistake was\nterrible; it was, moreover, unfortunate for France as for\nhimself; it produced the only bad luck that befell him in his\nvery long life and invariably prosperous career. It was in not\ndiscriminating between the clergy, as trustees of the church\nproperty, and the property itself entrusted to their keeping. He\nviewed the temporalities as absolutely their own, their\ninheritance, instead of perceiving that these possessions were\nonly a charge delivered to them for safe keeping and\ntransmission, which could not descend to their heirs but must go\nto their successors. He confounded their duties as administrators\nof the estate with the rights of the persons for whom the estate\nwas formed. If the clergy were willing, therefore, to take a\nbribe to betray their trust, Talleyrand supposed the nefarious\nbargain amounted to a fair and honest purchase of the trust\nproperty. The estate was not created for them, but they were\ncreated for the estate.\n\nA few months after Talleyrand was installed Bishop of Autun, he\nwas elected a representative to the States-General. Of his\npeculiar fitness for the place, Sir Henry Bulwer brings forward\nsome striking and convincing testimony.\n\nWhen the States-General met, they formed themselves into the\nNational Assembly; they resolved to legislate in one and the same\nhall, the nobles and the clergy, mixed with the commonalty, and\nall three merged into one body. The Three Estates were no more;\nit was only the Third Estate that remained. The impending danger\nfrom immediate bankruptcy of the nation being the vital as it was\nthe first subject for discussion, the high reputation possessed\nby the Bishop of Autun for financial abilities and practical\nskill easily gained for him the first place as a man of business,\nas the first rank in social position was already accorded to him.\nHe spoke well, sensibly, to the point. Mirabeau was the greater\norator, it is true, but Mirabeau was the orator for the commons;\nTalleyrand was no orator at all; he was a fluent speaker, never\nindulging in meretricious or ornamental embellishments, never\nappealing to the vulgar passions: he was the pride and glory, the\ngreat favorite of the nobles and clergy. His sphere had been more\nselect, more exalted, more refined, where the declamation,\npassionate appeals, rounded periods, startling antitheses of\nMirabeau would have been deemed low and voted down. Mirabeau was\nunable to shine in the Parisian salons frequented by the choice\naristocracy, while Talleyrand despised making a figure of himself\nfor the applause of the _bourgeoisie_ of the Third Estate.\nBut what the Third Estate was wanting in elegance of manners, in\nwit and cultivation, they supplied in the strength of their\nnumbers, and in the corresponding determination to absorb all\npolitical power. It was evident the nobles and the clergy would\nbe compelled to succumb. At last they gave way, and not only\nyielded up whatever political rights or immunities were their\nown, but whatever also was confided by others to their keeping.\nTo quote from Sir Henry:\n\n{96}\n\n \"On the 4th of August ... almost all the institutions and\n peculiarities which constituted the framework of government and\n society throughout France were unhesitatingly swept away, at\n the instigation and demand of the first magistrates and nobles\n of the land, who did not sufficiently consider that they who\n destroy at once all existing laws (whatever those laws may be)\n destroy, at the same time, all established habits of thought;\n that is, all customs of obedience, all spontaneous feelings of\n respect and affection, without which a form of government is\n merely an idea on paper. In after times, M. de Talleyrand, when\n speaking of this period, said, in one of his characteristic\n phrases: '_La R\u00e9volution a d\u00e9soss\u00e9 la France_,' 'The\n Revolution has disboned France.' ... The Bishop of Autun was\n undoubtedly among the foremost in destroying the traditions\n which constitute a community, and proclaiming the theories\n which captivate a mob.\" (P. 55.)\n\nThis extract is a fair specimen of the false statement of facts,\nand of the fallacious reasoning in the diplomatic body, on\npopular events. It is as destitute of truth as it is of logic, or\na correct understanding of the principles upon which civil\ngovernment is constituted. In all that was done so far, only\nantiquated, effete, feudal, or petty provincial privileges were\nsurrendered; privileges which properly belonged to the state for\nthe benefit of the nation whenever the state might deem it proper\nto demand them or to destroy them; for, long before, they ought\nto have been abolished. The aristocracy now chose voluntarily to\nrelinquish them gracefully. They removed thereby great grievances\nfrom the public, and many intolerable burdens from the peasants.\nThe laws which were repealed at the same time were only customs\nor statutes which had protected the privileges given up, and\nbecame obsolete when nothing was left for them to protect.\nInstead of dissolving society, the relinquishment of petty\npolitical rights was the removal of pernicious, detestable\nrubbish. All laws were not abrogated; nor was one destroyed,\naltered, or amended which protected the person or preserved\nproperty.\n\nThe next step of progress in the right direction was a vigorous\neffort to induce the king to be equally generous and patriotic in\nrelinquishing some of his odious antiquated prerogatives. But\nLouis XVI. was unwilling to conform to the public wishes; he\nrefused, because compliance would trench upon the sovereignty\nwhich he had received untouched from his royal ancestors, and\nwhich he resolved to transmit untarnished to his posterity. But\nwhen the pressure for a written constitution began to threaten\nhis personal safety, he yielded with a mental reservation that he\nhad given way to superior force; he conscientiously, but\nerroneously and fatally, believed his consent was not binding on\nhim or his heirs. The representatives of the nation now\nmaintained, that ministers having the national confidence should\nbe called into the royal cabinet. To this reasonable request, the\nking refused his consent; but he temporized by reluctantly giving\naudience to Mirabeau, Talleyrand, and some others of the liberal\nparty, leaving them under the mistaken impression that he would\nlisten to their advice. But the king did not adopt their\ncounsels; he did not intend that any of them should become his\ncounsellors.\n\nLouis granted them a hearing in order to conceal his intentions.\nIt was only a blind to cover his purpose, which was to resume, at\nthe first opportunity, what he had relinquished, and to send\nMirabeau and Talleyrand, with their friends the\n_sans-culottes_, adrift.\n{97}\nThese liberals were consequently deceived; in truth, they aided\nin their own deception; they could not imagine the king would\nprove a traitor to his own interests. The king, however, was only\nplaying over again the losing game practised by Charles I., and\nby his son, James II., of England. The stake in both countries\nwas the same: it was, whether sovereignty should repose in the\ncrown, as in ancient times, or in the people, in accordance with\nmodern ideas. The prize cannot be divided, as some supposed; it\ncan never be divided; in its very nature it is indivisible; it\nwould be as impossible as to place one crown on two separate\nheads at the same time. Sir Henry Bulwer, as a true Briton,\nthinks, no doubt, the Stuart sovereigns were perjured knaves,\nbecause they deceived the House of Commons, and broke solemn\npromises made to their ministers; but he views the Bourbon king\nas foolish only in doing the same things, and pursuing the same\nline of policy. Now, in verity, the moral code applies alike to\nboth dynasties, in both countries, in both centuries. Whatever\nroyal promise is made should be royally and religiously\nfulfilled; but its violation does not justify a resort to the\nblock at Whitehall or to the guillotine at the Carrousel. The\nexecution of a monarch for defending his prerogatives by fair\nmeans or false promises, is no less a crime against civilization\nthan it is a political error. No good can come of it; no good\never has.\n\nBut the duplicity and falsehood of Louis, in its incidents,\nbrought on the first blow against property; and with the attack\non property, all the crimes and calamities, all the misery,\npoverty, and long list of woes of the Revolution commenced. Then\nsociety began to disintegrate; then France began to disbone; it\nnever ended until morality, Christianity, civilization, were\ncrushed to a jelly. Talleyrand was the leader in this raid, and\non his head rests the responsibility. He was the great oracle on\nfinancial topics in the National Assembly; he was the member\nlooked up to for the solution of the financial problem to save\nthe nation from ruin; he had accepted the position almost thrust\nupon him; and his reputation was at stake in surmounting the\ncrisis. With success he could compel the king to invite him into\nthe ministry. Mirabeau admitted this in a letter to a friend, and\na portfolio in the ministry was the goal of Talleyrand's\nambition. All eyes were, therefore, turned to the Bishop of\nAutun, and the eyes of the bishop turned to the landed property\nof the church, from whence the wants of the treasury could be\nimmediately and with facility supplied. He was willing to propose\nthe double sacrilege on religion and on society; for it was no\nless an outrage on civilization or civil government than it was\non Christianity, which is the foundation of good government.\n\nThe coolness with which Sir Henry Bulwer states this desecration\ncan only be compared with the absurdity in the line of argument\nwith which Talleyrand advocated the measure. If some Bishop\nColenso in the House of Lords should propose the seizure and\nconfiscation of the wealth of the Anglican Establishment, the\nquestion would appear in a different aspect to the British\ndiplomatist. He would view it with horror.\n{98}\nIn either case, however, the measure would be infamous.\nGovernments are instituted to protect property, not to squander\nit; and the only difference between that which is held by an\nindividual for himself and that which is held in trust for the\nbenefit of others, is in the circumstance that whatever is in\ntrust is, in the public estimation, more sacred, because it is\npreserved for the welfare of the poor, the weak, the ignorant or\ninfirm of mind, who cannot provide for themselves; just as the\nstate extends a more paternal care over the property of infants,\nidiots, or orphans, than over the interests of men and women of\nfull growth and sound mind. If a call must be made in a sudden\nexigency for funds, what government, not demented, would spare\nthe mercantile houses of the rich, to sequestrate and spoliate\nthe hospitals for the helpless?\n\nTalleyrand considered the church property as public property; but\nthis view, plausible at first sight, is found on reflection to be\nfallacious. It was not derived from the nation, nor from the\npublic, but from individuals, and from its own accumulations; it\nwas not designed for the benefit of the public, but for a\nspecific class of the people--the needy--to which class the mass\nof the community did not belong, and, furthermore, hoped they\nnever would. So much for the bishop's premises and argument. But\na stronger objection remains: it is the broad principle of the\ninvasion of private rights, of common justice; and when that\nprinciple is once rendered unstable by common consent, the\nstability of all public opinion, of all civil institutions, of\nall organized government, is shaken; the state is liable to be\noverturned. When the National Assembly deemed it proper for the\npublic good to confiscate the church property, the Legislative\nAssembly followed the example set to deprive persons of their\nliberty, and the National Convention next voted away lives by the\nhecatomb daily; under the same plea, the king himself was\ndecapitated. When the public morality was once vitiated, who\ncould foretell where the national criminality would terminate,\nwho or how many would not be its victims?\n\nIt has been the same with European ethics. When the great\nFrederick of Prussia violated the Pragmatic Sanction, to which\nPrussia had assented, and seized upon Silesia, neighboring\nnations were not slow to forget and forgive his audacity and to\nfollow his unrighteous example. The partition of Poland grew out\nof it, from the contempt entertained for international opinion.\nNext came the French Revolution, when nations had no faith in the\nintegrity of rival governments, nor had governments much\nconfidence in their people. The world went backward in\ncivilization, and the long wars of the republic, of the\nconsulate, of the empire, ensued; not only the French, but every\nforeign soil on the Continent, was drenched in blood. At last,\nthe moral atmosphere became so foul that the idea of\nassassination was entertained and talked about in every court at\nwar with Napoleon. It was deemed feasible, it was favored by a\nsilent assent; it floated in the air.\n\nSir Henry, in echo to diplomatic opinion and to the sentiment of\nthe belligerent nations, treats the murder in cold blood of the\nBourbon Duke d'Enghien, by order of Napoleon, as an atrocity. The\nact certainly was atrocious; but, at the bar of history, who are\nall the criminals that may be arraigned as accomplices in\nconspiring to efface the stain of turpitude in assassination from\nthe Christian code of morals? How many were smiling at the\nprospect of doing unto the French emperor that which he did unto\nthe duke? Not one statesman, or legislator, or diplomatist, or\nwriter, could in his conscience cast the first stone. Public\nopinion was debauched on the subject; moral integrity was\ndisboned.\n{99}\nNapoleon justified his conduct in the only way left open to\nmodify the enormity of the offence--to extenuate the nefarious\ndeed. He excused himself as he excused his first attacks in war;\nit was to defend himself by becoming the assailant. He undertook\nto teach his enemies the efficacy of retaliation, and the lesson\ndid teach them. Nothing more was ever whispered in secret, or\nagain talked openly, of taking him off by poison or the dagger.\n\nTalleyrand, although imperial prime minister at the time, does\nnot appear to have been consulted. From all that is known, he\ncertainly did not advise or countenance the act; he did not\napprove or condemn when it was done. What he communicated\nofficially, he wrote, as secretary of the emperor, that which was\ndictated to him to write. But, on the other hand, no one is aware\nthat he counselled against the murder; in all probability, in his\nlaxity of morals, his sensibilities were not much shocked by the\nevent. He was never known to have considered the transaction an\nimpolitic measure; the common story that he spoke of it as worse\nthan a crime--as a political blunder--has no authentic\nfoundation.\n\nSuch was the course of affairs growing out of the first invasion\nof rights to property at the suggestion of the Bishop of Autun.\nBut the immediate effects upon his fortunes are curious. He was\nerroneously associated in the foreign mind with the revolutionary\nacts that followed; and when, on the contrary, for\nself-preservation, he fled to London to escape the stigma of\nthose very acts and the malice of the very men who perpetrated\nthem, he was ordered out of England as a Jacobin or regicide and\nfound a refuge in America. But in our republic no countenance was\ngiven to him, no cordial greeting extended. By the Federalists,\nhe was, contemned as a traitor to his king, an apostate to his\nreligion, an enemy to social order. By the anti-Federalists he\nwas viewed as an aristocrat, an _\u00e9migr\u00e9_, an obstacle to\nsocial progress. The ex-bishop, therefore, in 1794, like the\nexpatriated M. Blot in 1864, had leisure to turn his attention to\nthe culinary art. Talleyrand, and the other involuntary\nemigrants, observed upon the vines near the kitchens a beautiful\nround red production growing, which was cultivated as a vegetable\nornament, whose botanical name was the _lycopersicum_, but\nwhich Americans called the love-apple. The French gentlemen\nrecognized in it their _tomate_, and forthwith taught our\ngreat-grandmothers how to render it a more palatable esculent for\ntheir tables than it was a pleasing embellishment to their\ngardens.\n\nBut the Reign of Terror soon terminated; like the reign of Louis,\nit ended also at the guillotine. He now returned to Paris. His\nfriend Barras was in the Directory, and Barras was of the\naristocracy, who, however, \"had been forgiven the crime of being\na noble, in consideration of the virtue of being a regicide.\"\nFrom that date began the new lease to Talleyrand of power,\n_prestige_, influence, and prosperity, which was never again\nbroken during his long life. He was willing to serve any\nadministration under any form of government, providing it was the\nbest under the circumstances, and when he could be, as he for the\nfirst time expressed it, the right man in the right place. But\nnever for a day did he remain when he could not be useful to\nFrance, nor serviceable to the executive by whom he was retained.\nHe knew how long it was beneficial to adhere to the Directory,\nand when the time had come to drop off.\n{100}\nThe first consul was treated in the same manner, and the emperor,\nand the allies, and Louis XVIII., and Louis Philippe. None of\nthem could fascinate him by their condescension or consideration;\nyet he served them all honorably, honestly; but it was requisite\nhe should be called and retained on his own terms. When he was\ndismissed, it was not before he already knew it was better for\nhis own interests to go.\n\nWhen Alexander of Russia entered Paris, in 1814, with the allied\narmies, the czar took up his imperial residence at Talleyrand's\nmansion, and expected to use the late prime minister for his own\npurpose by the high honor conferred. But Talleyrand was\ninsensible to such delicate attentions; he was fully conscious he\nwas himself a prince, and of the proud family of P\u00e9rigord, a\nfamily that were sovereign in provinces of France in the middle\nages, long before the Romanoffs, surrounded by a wild horde of\nhalf-naked Tartars, had ever held court on horse-back, or crossed\nthe Ural, or been heard of in Europe. Talleyrand was not made a\ntool by the czar, but the czar was moulded like wax under the\nmanipulations of Talleyrand; to him Louis XVIII. was indebted for\nhis throne; and afterward, at the Congress of Vienna, when\nAlexander discovered Talleyrand could not be induced to betray\nFrench interests for the benefit of Russia, the czar compelled\nLouis to dismiss him from office.\n\nNapoleon was estimated in a similar manner, but with even less\nrespect, for he had been a plebeian, and perhaps, if anything,\nworse; he was not a Frenchman, he was a Corsican. After the\nbattle of Leipsic, Napoleon offered the portfolio of foreign\nministry to his former minister, but on the condition he should\nlay down the rank and emoluments of vice-grand elector. The\nobject of the emperor was to make him dependent on imperial\nfavor. But Talleyrand, who would have accepted the office,\nrefused the condition, saying: \"If the emperor trusts me, he\nshould not degrade me; and if he does not trust me, he should not\nemploy me; the times are too critical for half-measures.\" No\ncircumlocution was resorted to on either side; it was plain\ndealing; for the parties knew with whom they were treating, and\nno compliments were requisite. M. Thiers remarks that \"two\nsuperior Frenchmen, until they have an opportunity to flatter one\nanother, are natural enemies.\" However much Talleyrand's wish\nmight have been to assist the emperor, he would not show it: his\ninvariable maxim was _point de z\u00e8le_--never evince ardor in\nanything.\n\nBut while he had no abasement in the presence of the great, he\nhad no assumption toward equals or inferiors in mind and in\nposition. Thoroughly self-reliant, he was never found\ndisconcerted nor off his guard; in the widest sense he was a man;\nhe held all others as no more and no less. He had no confidants.\nPerhaps Montrond was an exception, for Montrond was a specialty,\nSir Henry tells us, of the age, a type of the French _rou\u00e9_.\nHe was one of Talleyrand's pets, as Talleyrand was one of his\nadmirations. Each spoke ill of the other; for each said he loved\nthe other for his vices. But no one could speak to Talleyrand\nwith so much intimacy, nor obtain from him so clear an answer;\nfor they trusted one another, though Montrond would never have\ntold any one else to trust Talleyrand, nor Talleyrand have told\nany one else to trust M. de Montrond.\n\nHere we must, with reluctance, lay down Sir Henry's book; space\nwill not permit dwelling longer upon it.\n\n----------\n\n{101}\n\n The Basilica of St. Saturnin.\n\n\nMy journey to the ancient and religious city of Toulouse was made\nin a season of sorrow. I was in the fearful grasp of giant\nDespair, whose whips were as scorpions urging me on. Every step\nin this sorrowful way was a torture, because it widened the\ndistance between me and a past which could never return. I felt\nlike those poor souls in Dante's _Inferno_, whose heads were\nplaced backward, so their tears fell on their shoulders. So my\nheart was looking ever back--back, with sorrowful eyes, as if the\nfuture held no consolation in store. O soul of little faith!\nencompassed by thy black cloud, absorbed in thy griefs, thou\nseest not the brightness beyond the darkness that enfolds thee!\nJourneying on with weary steps, I found in my way a cross. I was\nalready laden with _one_--seemingly overwhelming--which the\npast had bequeathed to me, and I was about to turn aside from\nthis _material_ cross I had stumbled upon, when I called to\nmind a traveller of the olden time who found, like me, a cross in\nhis pathway. Not satisfied with kneeling before it, he caught it\nup and pressed it to his heart. What should he find but a\nprecious treasure concealed beneath! Such a treasure I found\nbeneath the great Latin cross known as St. Saturnin or St.\nSernin's church at Toulouse--a treasure I took to my heart,\nwhich it continues to enrich, and hallow, and beautify. I turned\naside from my weary path to find consolation and rest in this\ngreat cruciform temple, and not in vain. O little isle of peace\nin an ocean of sorrow! how sweetly did the hours pass in thy\nserene atmosphere! The _Vade in pace_ came to my soul like\nthe sun after a great tempest, restoring brightness and freshness\nto my world. A thousand tender and holy emotions floating around,\nlike the birds in the arches of Notre Dame de Paris; came\nnestling to my heart. At such moments\n\n \"The eyes forget the tears they have shed,\n The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.\"\n\nBut it is not my intention to indulge here in any display of\npersonal emotion. I only wish, in gratitude for many holy\nmemories, to note down a few of the impressions I received in a\nsacred place, and mention in a simple way some of the objects\nthat interested me particularly, but not as a connoisseur of\nChristian art.\n\nI am sure no one has ever lived in Catholic countries without\nfeeling thankful that there is one door ever open to the\npasser-by, with its mute appeal to sinful, sorrowing humanity to\nenter and lay down its burden. It is the door of God's house,\nwhich rejects no one--always open, reminding us that the\nAll-Father is ever ready to receive us. Who can resist the\nappeal? How many a poor peasant have I seen, with care on the\nbrow, turn aside for a moment into a church, lay down the basket\nof provisions or utensils for a brief prayer, and then go on his\nway refreshed! These ever-open churches are like fountains by the\nwayside, where the heated and foot-worn traveller may find rest\nand a cooling draught, without money and without price. Ah! who\nwould close thy gates, O house of prayer? As the poet says: \"Is\nthere, O my God! an hour in all life when the heart can be weary\nof prayer? when man, whom thou dost deign to hear in thy temple,\ncan have no incense to offer before thy altar, no tear to confide\nto thee?\"\n\n{102}\n\nEven the undevout cannot pass one of the grand old churches of\nthe middle ages with indifference; especially one like the\nbasilica of St. Sernin, with so many historic and religious\nmemories connected with it, and which seems to appeal to every\ninstinct of our nature. Entering this great church by the western\nportal, I could not forget that through it had passed three Roman\npontiffs and many a king of France. Pope Urban II., returning\nfrom the Council of Clermont, where the first crusade had been\ndecided upon, came, in the year of our Lord 1096, to consecrate\nthis church, built on the ruins of two others. Some days after\ncame Count Raymond de St. Gilles, the hero of the Holy Wars, to\npray before the tomb of St. Saturnin, followed by princely\nvassals, before reviewing the one hundred thousand soldiers at\nthe head of whom he opened a passage to the Holy Sepulchre. His\ntwo noble sons, Bertrand and Alphonse Jourdain, likewise passed\nthrough the same door, preceded by their family banner, before\ngoing, like their glorious father, to die in the Holy Land. Simon\nde Montfort, of Albigensian memory, before being invested with\nthe _comt\u00e9_ of Toulouse, came here to kneel before the tombs\nof the apostles and martyrs. Among the kings of France,\nPhilippe-le-Hardi came here four times. Charles VI., Louis XI.,\nLouis XIII., and Louis le Grand also rendered homage to the\nsaints herein enshrined. Above all, Saint Bernard, St. Dominick,\nand many other renowned saints trod these pavements and prayed\nunder these arches! ...\n\nSome may think lightly of these associations, and say,\n\n \"A man's a man for a' that;\"\n\nbut there are no greater hero-worshippers than the Americans;\nnone love a title more than a stanch republican; and I, a Hebrew\nof the Hebrews! frankly own to this little weakness. I love the\ngrand old names and titles. I look with curiosity and respect on\nthe footprints of kings and crusaders, and even of knights of low\ndegree, and I tread with reverence the stones the blessed saints\nhave trod. ...\n\nSt. Sernin's church, built in imitation of St. Paul's at Rome, is\nof the Latin style, cruciform in shape, terminating, in pious\nmemory of the five sacred wounds of our Saviour, with five\nchapels toward the holy East; for the orientation is carefully\nfixed, as in all ancient churches. There are five naves in this\nchurch, separated by four rows of majestic pillars. It is rare to\nfind these collateral naves.\n\nOn entering this church, one is profoundly impressed by the\nmajestic arches and the length of the grand nave with the double\nrow of arcades on each side. A mysterious light, coming one\nhardly knows whence, is diffused through the multiplied arches,\ndisposing the soul to calmness and meditation. The long naves all\nseem, through the converging rows of columns, to point to that\naltar in the distance where is seen the twinkling light that ever\nburns before the tabernacle, drawing one on like a powerful\nmagnet. The Christian heart feels the influence of a Presence\ndiffused, like the light before IT, throughout the vast\nenclosure.\n\nThoreau, who only worshipped nature, impressed by the religious\natmosphere of a great Catholic cathedral, said such a vast cave\nat hand in the midst of a city, with its still atmosphere and\nsombre light disposing to serious, profitable thought, is worth\nthousands of our (Protestant) churches which are open only on\nSundays.\n{103}\n\"I think,\" says he, \"of its value, not only to religion, but to\nphilosophy and poetry: besides a reading-room, to have a\n_thinking_ room in every city!\" And who can tell the\ninfluence, not only on the mind and heart, but on the taste, of\nsuch a church with its paintings, statuary, holy emblems, and\nantique shrines which have for ages been the glory of one's city,\nand intimately connected with its past history?\n\nThe most striking object, on entering the principal nave, is the\ntomb of St. Sernin, raised in the air on the uplifted heads of\nfour gilded bulls. Over it is a _baldaquin_ on which is\nrepresented the apotheosis of the saint. The whole is richly\ngilded, and, when lighted up, has a brilliant effect.\n\n OSSA SANCTI SATURNINI,\n\nin large gilded letters, is inscribed on the sarcophagus. At\nfirst the _taureaux_ puzzled me. I thought of the bulls of\nBashan--of the cattle upon a thousand hills--and of the\nsacrifices of the old law, but I could not see their connection\nwith St. Saturnin. But in recalling his martyrdom I found the\nsolution of my perplexity.\n\nSt. Sernin, the apostle and first Bishop of Toulouse, was sent by\nPope St. Fabian, in the third century, to carry the light of\nfaith into Gaul. His success in the conversion of the people to\nChristianity so infuriated the priests of Jupiter and Minerva,\nwho were specially worshipped in the capital of Toulouse, that\nthey one day seized him, and, on his refusing to sacrifice to the\ngods, attached him to the feet of an infuriated wild bull, who\nleaped down the hill, dashing out the brains of the saint. Two\nholy women gathered together his remains, but the place of their\nburial was known only to a few till after the triumph of the\nChristian religion in the empire of Rome. An oratory was erected\nover his tomb in the fourth century, and later a church rose\nwhich was completed by the great St. Exuperius, the seventh\nsuccessor of St. Sernin in the see of Toulouse--that saint so\nrenowned for his charities and learning, and whose remains are\nenshrined in this church. He was the friend of St. Jerome, who\ncorresponded with him, and dedicated to him his commentary on the\nprophecies of Zachary. St. Exuperius even sold the sacred vessels\nof the altar to feed his flock during a great famine, so the Body\nof Christ had to be carried in an osier basket, and a chalice of\nglass was used in the service of the altar--a chalice carefully\npreserved by a grateful people till the Revolution of 1793.\n\nOne loves to recall, among the many sainted bishops of Toulouse,\nthat \"flower of royal blood,\" Louis of Anjou, grand-nephew of St.\nLouis, King of France, and nephew of the dear St. Elizabeth of\nHungary. At the age of twenty-one he was offered a kingdom, which\nhe refused in favor of his brother, wishing to consecrate himself\nto God among the Franciscans. \"Jesus Christ is my kingdom,\" said\nhe. \"Possessing him, I have all things: without him, I have\nnothing.\" He was ordained priest at the age of twenty-two, and\nobliged by holy obedience to accept the see of Toulouse. Before\nreceiving episcopal consecration he made a pilgrimage to Rome and\ntook the habit of St. Francis. The _Toulousains_ received\nhim with magnificence as a prince, and revered him as a saint.\nLike St. Exuperius, he was devoted to the poor, to whom he gave\nthe greater part of his revenues.\n{104}\nEvery day he fed twenty-five poor men at his table and served\nthem himself, sometimes on his knees. Terrified by the\nobligations of his office, he begged to be released from them,\nand God granted what men denied. During his last sickness, he\nexclaimed: \"I have at last arrived in sight of the desired haven.\nI am going to enjoy the presence of my God, of which the world\nwould deprive me.\" He died with the _Ave Maria_ on his lips,\nat the age of twenty-three and a half years.\n\nWhat renders the basilica of St. Sernin one of the most\nremarkable and one of the holiest spots in the world, after\nJerusalem and Rome, is the number of the saints herein enshrined.\nThe counts of Toulouse brought back from the Holy Land many\nrelics which they obtained in the East. Thus a great part of the\nbody of St. George was brought from Palestine by William\nTaillefer, eighth Count of Toulouse. Kings of France also endowed\nthis church with relics. Those of St. Edmund, King of England,\nwere brought to France by Louis VIII. The crypts in which most of\nthese relics are contained are intended to recall the catacombs\nof Rome. In the eleventh century they were not in shrines or\nreliquaries, but reposed in marble tombs, and the faithful went\nto pray before them, as in the crypts of St. Calixtus on the\nAppian Way. Over the door leading into the upper crypts is the\ninscription, \"_Hic sunt vigiles qui custodiunt civitatem_,\"\nand over the door of the pilgrims, \"_Non est in toto sanctior\norbe locus_.\" This door leads to the inferior crypts, which\nyou descend by a flight of steps. The numerous pilgrims of the\nmiddle ages paused on each step to repeat a prayer. Thus they\npassed on into the numerous passages of the crypts, recalling the\ncatacombs. As you go down into them, you pause amid your prayers\nto read an inscription, in red letters, on a white marble tablet:\n\n \"Under the auspices, and by the pious munificence of the\n emperors Charlemagne, Louis le D\u00e9bonnaire, and Charles le\n Chauve, the wonderful basilica of Saturnin has received the\n precious remains of several apostles and of a great number of\n martyrs, virgins, and confessors of the faith. The dukes of\n Aquitaine, the counts of Toulouse, have increased this\n treasure. The magistrates of this capital have faithfully\n guarded it.\n\n \"Here Religion preserves for the eternal edification of the\n faithful a portion of the cross of our Lord, a thorn from his\n crown, (the gift of Count Alphonse, brother of St. Louis,) a\n fragment from the rock of the Holy Sepulchre, (glorious\n conquest of the Toulousain crusaders.) and a piece of a garment\n of the Mother of God.\n\n \"Under these vaults, O pious traveller! are venerated the\n relics of St. Peter, St. Paul, St. James the major, St. James\n the minor, St. Philip, St. Simon, St. Jude, St. Barnaby, St.\n Bartholomew, apostles.\n\n \"St. Claudius, St. Crescentius, St. Nicostratus, St.\n Simplicius, St. Castor, St. Christopher, St. Julian, St. Cyr,\n St. Asciscle, St. Cyril, St. Blasius, St. George.\n\n \"The first bishops of Toulouse, the series of whom date from\n the third century: Saint Saturnin, St. Honorius, St. Hilaire,\n St. Sylvius, St. Exuperius, repose in this church.\n\n \"Not far from their venerated remains are those of St.\n Honestus, St. Papoul, St. William, Duke of Aquitaine, St.\n Edmund, King of England, St. Gilles, St. Gilbert, St. Thomas of\n Aquin, St. Vincent of Paul, St. Raymond, Pope St. Pius V., St.\n Susanna, St. Julietta, St. Margaret, St. Catharine, St. Lucia,\n and of St. Agatha.\"\n\n{105}\n\nGrow not weary, kind reader, over this long list of names, for\neach one has its history, which is interwoven with that of Holy\nChurch. Let us rather linger with love and faith over each name,\nwhether humble or mighty on earth--now potent in heaven! Let us\nmurmur them in reverence, for some of them are inscribed on the\nfoundations of the New Jerusalem--and all gleam like precious\nstones on its walls--all these did wear on earth \"the jewelled\nstate of suffering,\" but they are now triumphant in heaven, and\ntheir memory has long been glorious on earth.\n\nOne feels deeply awed in descending among these shrines\ncontaining the bodies of the saints--_temples of the Holy\nGhost_. Virtue hath not yet gone out from them, as is\ntestified by the wonders still wrought at their tombs.\n\nMany of the present shrines are antique, some costly, and all\ninteresting, but they have lost their ancient splendor. Their\nmagnificence before the Revolution may be imagined from existing\ndescriptions. These tell us of, among others, the silver shrine\nof St. Edmund, an _ex-voto_ from the city of Toulouse, in\n1684, in gratitude for deliverance from the plague, adorned with\nstatues of solid silver. When the saint was transferred to this\n_ch\u00e2sse_, it was exposed to the veneration of the people for\neight days, and all the parishes of the environs came to honor\nthem. Some days there were fifty processions, which gives an idea\nof the lively faith and piety of that age. The octave was\nterminated by a general procession in the city, in which were\nborne forty four shrines, the most of them silver, and adorned\nwith gold and precious stones.\n\nAnd when, in 1385, the relics of St. James the major were\ntransferred to a new shrine, the Duc de Berry, brother of Charles\nVI., gave for it a silver bust of the saint, a gold chain to\nwhich was attached a sapphire of great value, surrounded by\nrubies and pearls, with other jewels which adorned the bust till\nthe time of the Revolution.\n\nLike Madame de Sta\u00ebl, \"I love this prodigality of terrestrial\ngifts to another world--offerings from time to eternity!\nSufficient for the morrow are the cares required by human\neconomy. Oh! how much I love what would be useless waste, were\nlife nothing better than a career of toil for despicable gain!\"\n\nThough these shrines are stripped of most of their former\nsplendor, the inestimable relics remain still venerated by the\npeople. They no longer go there in the old garb of the pilgrim,\nwith \"sandal shoon and scallop-shell,\" or only occasionally, but\ntheir faith is as profound, and their piety as genuine. I was so\nfortunate as to meet a pilgrim in the orthodox garb as I was\ngoing into the church. He entered just before me. He was clad in\na loose brown habit which extended to his feet. Over his\nshoulders was a cape, around which were fastened scallop-shells,\nas we see in pictures of pilgrims. His feet were sandalled.\n\n \"His sandals were with travel tore:\n Staff, budget, bottle, scrip he wore.\"\n\nIn truth, he had a bundle suspended by a stick on his shoulder.\nHis hair was disordered, his eyes cast down, and he went from\nshrine to shrine paying his devotions, regardless of every one.\nFrom the way in which he made the sign of the cross I took him to\nbe a Spaniard. I felt an indescribable emotion of pity for him\nwhose contrition had induced to assume a penitential garb, and go\nfrom church to church living on alms, and I prayed that his soul\nmight find peace--that peace which the world cannot give!\n\n{106}\n\nOne of the first subterranean chapels I entered was that of the\nSainte-Epine, in which is a beautiful silver reliquary,\ncontaining one of the thorns from the crown our suffering Saviour\nwore. It was given by St. Louis to his brother Alphonse, who\nmarried Jeanne, daughter of Raymond VII., last Count of Toulouse.\nOn the pavement of the chapel is graven this ancient distich,\nlikening the Sainte-Epine, surrounded by the bodies of thirteen\nsaints, to a thorn among roses:\n\n \"Quisquis es externus quaerens miracula sixte,\n En tredecim pulchris insita spina rosis.\"\n\nAfter the Revolution a holy priest of Toulouse established, in\nhonor of this precious relic, the Confraternity of the Holy\nThorn, composed of the most fervent Catholics of the city.\nAfflicted by the prolonged captivity of Pope Pius VII., they\nbegged of God his deliverance--not only at their own shrines, but\nat that of St. Germaine of Pibrac. Their prayers were heard. On\nthe 2d of February, 1814, the holy father slowly and sadly passed\nthe walls of Toulouse on his way to Italy, locked up in his\ncarriage! The highway was completely obstructed by the crowds of\npeople, who, all bathed in tears, went out to meet him, and on\ntheir knees besought his benediction. Among them were the\nvotaries of the Sainte-Epine, raising their hands to heaven in\nbehalf of the holy captive.\n\nThe pope earnestly desired to enter the city that he might\nvenerate the body of the angelic doctor, in the church of St.\nSernin, but it was not deemed expedient to entrust such a guest\nto the faithful Toulousains. Halting beyond the ramparts, merely\nto change their horses and obtain refreshments, they hurried on\nas if afraid of losing their prisoner.\n\nIn another chapel of the crypts is the altar of St. Simon and St.\nJude, containing their relics. It was consecrated by Pope\nCalixtus II. Old legends tell us that these apostles were two of\nthe shepherds of Bethlehem, who first heard the _Gloria in\nExcelsis_. One loves to believe that they who were encircled\nby the brightness of God, to whom angels talked, and who were\nfirst at the manger, should afterward be called to follow our\nSaviour and preach the glad tidings, which they had heard from\nangelic tongues, to the nations afar off. They _could_ not\nhave lost sight of him who was so miraculously revealed to them.\nThey _must_ have hastened to join him as soon as he entered\nupon his public life.\n\nIn a niche, close by the chapel of St. Simon and St. Jude, is the\nentire body of St. Gilles, to whom the old counts of Toulouse had\na particular devotion, especially Raymond IV., who is invariably\nstyled in history Raymond de St. Gilles. This saint was very\npopular, not only in France, but in England and Scotland. A large\nhospital for lepers was built by the queen of Henry I. outside\nthe city of London, which has given its name to a large district\nof that city; and St. Giles is the patron saint of Edinburgh,\nwhere a church was built under his invocation not later then\n1359. This renders his shrine a place of interest to all who\nspeak the English tongue. St. Sernin possesses, too, the body of\none of England's sainted kings and that of her patron saint.\n\nSt. Gilles, or St. Giles, was an Athenian of royal blood, who,\nfearing the admiration excited by his talents, went to France,\nand became a hermit in a cave near the mouth of the Rhone.\n{107}\nHe subsisted on the produce of the woods and the milk of a tame\nhind. After his death a magnificent monastery, and then a city,\nrose round his tomb, and gave his name to the counts of\nLanguedoc.\n\nIn a large portable _ch\u00e2sse_ is the head of the glorious St.\nThomas Aquinas, the author of the profound _Summa\nTheologiae_ and the sublime Office of the Blessed Sacrament,\nworthy of the tongues of angels. This great doctor of the middle\nages is not dead. His voice is still heard in the office of the\nchurch, \"now with a single antiphon unlocking whole abysses of\nScripture, and now in almost supernatural melody, more like the\nechoes of heaven than mere poetry of earth,\" says Faber. One\nshould listen to this grand office resounding in the arches of\nthe church where its author is enshrined, when thousands of\ntapers, around the enthroned ostensorium, light up the brilliant\nshrine of St. Sernin! It is a foretaste of the song of the\nredeemed!\n\nWhen the body of St. Thomas of Aquin, brought from Italy,\napproached Toulouse, Louis of Anjou, brother of Charles V. of\nFrance, with archbishops and mitred abbots, at the head of one\nhundred and fifty thousand people, went out to meet it. Duke\nLouis and the principal lords of his court bore over it a canopy\nblazing with gold and precious stones. Around it floated six\nstandards: on two were the arms of France, the third of Anjou,\nthe others of the pope, the house of Aquin, and the city of\nToulouse. They enshrined it magnificently in the church of the\nDominicans, but it has been at St. Sernin since the Revolution.\nWhen placed in its present _ch\u00e2sse_ in 1852, the venerable\nP\u00e8re Lacordaire made a panegyric of the saint, attracting an\nimmense audience. The arms of the illustrious house of Aquin are\nemblazoned on his altar.\n\nIn passing out of the crypts on the side opposite that which I\nentered is the following inscription:\n\n \"After having reunited in Clermont, in the year of salvation\n 1096, the faithful destined to deliver the Holy Sepulchre, Pope\n Urban II. wished himself to consecrate this basilica, one of\n the most precious monuments of Christian art. The sovereign\n pontiff had near him Raymond IV., Count of Toulouse and of St.\n Gilles, that glorious prince who first displayed on his banners\n and on his armor the Holy Cross of the Saviour.\n\n \"Popes Clement VII., Paul V.. Urban V., and Pius IV. have\n granted numerous privileges to this abbatial church. Those who\n visit its seven principal altars obtain indulgences like those\n acquired before the seven altars of St. Peter's church at Rome.\n\n \"Charles VI., Louis XI., Francis I., Charles IX., Louis XIII.,\n and Louis XIV., kings of France, have, in praying, passed\n through these holy catacombs. It is here that in all public\n calamities a pious population has constantly resorted to\n implore the powerful intercession of the holy protectors of\n this antique and religious city.\"\n\nThere is hung on the walls of the crypts a curious bas-relief of\nthe youthful Saviour, which is supposed to date from the\nCarlovingian age. He is in an aureola, ovoidal in form, pointed\nat its two extremities. Without, in the angles, are the emblems\nof the four evangelists. Around the head of our Saviour is a\n_nimbus_ in the form of a cross, on which are graven the\nletters _Alpha_ and _Omega_. This bas-relief was\nevidently the centre of an extensive work. The youthfulness of\nthe features of Christ gives a presumption in favor of its\nantiquity.\n{108}\nHe is often found on many Christian sarcophagi, and in many of\nthe paintings of the catacombs at Rome, with a youthful face. M.\nDidron says that, from the third to the tenth century, Christ is\noftener represented young and beardless, but his face, young at\nfirst, grows older from century to century, as Christianity\nadvances in age. The ancient Christian monuments at Rome, Aries,\nand elsewhere represent Christ with a young and pleasing face.\n\nMany non-Catholics do not like these representations of our\nSaviour at all. The old Puritans were so opposed even to a cross\nthat, in 1634, they cut out the holy emblem from St. George's\nflag; but there is now a great reaction in this respect. We pray\nit may grow still stronger. We find many of these representations\nof our Saviour, which must date from the beginning of\nChristianity. The Emperor Alexander Severus, who ascended the\nthrone A.D. 222, had placed in his _Lararium_ a statue of\nChrist, but we are not told how he is depicted. The Sudario of\nVeronica, the portrait attributed to St. Luke, the statue raised\nin the city of Paneas by the grateful _H\u00e9morro\u00efsse_, whether\ngenuine or not, belong to the earliest ages, and prove, says M.\nDidron, that the Son of God was represented by painters and\nsculptors from the dawn of Christianity.\n\nThe chapels in the upper crypts are very interesting, with their\nstatues and bas-reliefs covering the panelled niches which\ncontain the holy relics. There is, in one of the chapels, a\ncrucifix which St. Dominick used when he preached, and which he\nis said to have held up to animate the army of Simon de Montfort,\nat the great battle of Muret, when the Albigenses were decisively\noverthrown. Lacordaire says St. Dominick was not present at the\nbattle, but remained in a chapel hard by, to pray, like Moses,\nwith uplifted arms. One looks upon the crucifix with interest. It\nis of wood, blackened by time, and about a yard in length. The\nfeet of the Christ are fastened one upon the other, in the\nItalian style.\n\nOne of the chapels bears the startling title of the Seven\nSleepers, which would seem to savor of magic or oriental legend.\nThey were seven Christians martyred at Ephesus, in the reign of\nTrajan, where, in the language of Scripture, _they slept in the\nLord_. Their bodies having been found in the year 479, it was\nsaid, in mystic style, that they had awakened again, after a\nsleep of more than two hundred years. Honoring them collectively,\nit became a custom to call them the Seven Sleepers, and the\nMohammedans have preserved the tradition as well as Christians. A\nchapel dedicated to them is rarely found; but Mrs. Jameson says\nthey perpetually occur in the miniatures, sculpture, and stained\nglass of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. They are found\nin the chapel of Edward the Confessor at Westminster. Their\nstatues, lying side by side on a bed of stone, were formerly in\ntheir chapel at St. Sernin, but only two of them now remain.\n\nIn the treasury of the abbey of St. Saturnin were formerly many\ncurious and valuable objects. One of these, now in the museum at\nToulouse, is the horn of Orlando, which, indeed, is ornamented\nwith figures in the style of the age of Charlemagne. During the\nlast days of Holy Week, when the bells were hushed during the\nawful days commemorating our Saviour's passion and death, the\nprolonged notes of this horn called the faithful to prayer. A\nsimilar one was used in the church of St. Orens at Auch, which is\nstill carefully preserved.\n{109}\nOne loves whatever recalls Orlando, the type of Christian\nchivalry. Many a tradition of him lingers in this country.\nRoncesvalles claims to possess his armor, and Blaye his terrible\nsword and his tomb. In the country of the Escualdunae is the\n_Pas de Roland_, a gigantic footprint on a large rock. At\nthe other extremity of the Pyrenees, in Roussillon, the long\ntable of a Celtic _dolmen_ is called by the people _Le\nPalet de Roland_; and large depressions in the form of a\nsemi-circle, in this part of France, mark the passage of\nOrlando's steed--that steed over which, when dead, his master\nwept, begging his forgiveness if he had ever been ill-treated.\nThe poet tells us the horse opened his eyes kindly on his master,\nand never stirred more.\n\nOne would like to think this the veritable horn of Orlando--which\nwas so powerful, when sounded for the last time, that the very\nbirds of the air fell dead, the Saracens fell back in terror, and\nCharlemagne and his court heard its notes afar off. There is far\nmore enjoyment in accepting all these local traditions than in\ndisputing their truth. Let us reserve our incredulity for\nso-called history.\n\nFrom the tower of St. Sernin there is a magnificent view of the\nPyrenees from sea to sea, and of a large extent of country full\nof historic and religious associations. Directly beneath is the\nold city of Toulouse, recalling Clemence Isaure and the golden\nviolets, and the troubadours of an older time. St. Anthony of\nPadua frequented its famous schools. St. Dominick here founded\nthe order of Preaching Friars, which has given so many doctors\nand missionaries to the church. St. Vincent Ferrier preached\nyonder in St. George's Square. In that same _Place_\nafterward preached Friar Thomas de Illirico against the excesses\nof the Carnival, and against all games of chance, with such\neffect that all the cards found in the shops were publicly burned\nand the trade of card-maker abolished. One day, after the\npreaching of this servant of God, the capitouls had placed on the\nfive principal gates of the city a marble tablet which bore _en\nrelief_ the holy name of JESUS supported by angels--that name\nso powerful for defence that it makes the very demons tremble!\n\nAnother famous preacher of that time induced the capitouls to\nappoint four watchmen to patrol the city at night, from one till\nfive, and chanting loudly:\n\n \"R\u00e9veillez-vous, gens qui dormez,\n Priez Dieu pour les tr\u00e9passez.\"\n\nBefore leaving St. Sernin, we stop to murmur a _Requiescant in\npace_ at the tombs of the counts of Toulouse, the first\nsovereigns who styled themselves \"By the grace of God,\" and whose\nhistory is so glorious and yet so sad and tragical.\n\nAnd as no Catholic Christian quits a church without leaving a\ntribute of love before the altar of the Madonna, so, before\nreluctantly leaving this antique basilica, perfumed with a\nthousand memories, I drop my bead at the feet of Mary,\nremembering that in this country were first strung together the\nbright jewels of the rosary, which have ever since adorned the\ngarments of Christ's spouse--the Church.\n\n AVE MARIA!\n\n ----------\n\n{110}\n\n The Little Sisters of the Poor.\n\n\nThe thoughtful soul, whether within or without the Catholic\nChurch, cannot fail to be impressed with the extent of her\ncharities. The fatherless, the widow, the aged, the poor, as St.\nLaurence the martyr declared when ordered by the prefect of Rome\nto deliver to him the wealth of the church--these are her riches.\nBut one must be within the fold to appreciate the universality of\nher bounty; to see that every need of suffering humanity, as it\nrises, finds pious souls whose vocation it is to look after that\nvery need, to provide for that very want; and the smallness of\nthe beginning of each world-wide charity makes the humble-hearted\nleap with joy that, even in the narrowest sphere, every one may\nbe privileged to help our dear Lord in the person of his poor.\n\nWhen St. Francis of Assisi gave his rule of strict poverty to the\nten united with him in hungering to work for Christ, it needed\nmore than his great faith to believe that, in forty-two years\nafter his death, two hundred thousand zealous souls would be\nbanded together, under his name, for prayer and alms-deeds;\nwhile, through all coming ages of the church, his followers\nshould steadily increase, steadfast in the work for which they\nhad joined hands.\n\nWhen, in 1537, Angela Merici, of Brescia, a lady of birth and\nfortune, sorrowing over the death of a well-beloved sister,\nsoothed her grief by devoting herself to the education of poor\nfemale children, at a time when four doctors of the law declared\nthe instruction of women the work of the devil, she did not\nrealize that from the grave of her own sorrow would spring the\nfar-famed order of Ursulines, (a beautiful resurrection!) who\ncollected and taught the poor orphans of massacred parents during\nFrench revolutions, and who held their infant and ragged schools\nlong before England had thought of them.\n\nWhen, in 1633, St. Vincent de Paul, seeing the misery and\ndestitution of the poor in the streets of Paris, placed four\nyoung women, who volunteered to aid him in relieving present\ndistress, in charge of a noble lady who had for several years\ndevoted herself to the work under his direction, he scarcely\nexpected to see in twenty years two hundred houses and hospitals\nof the order of Charity, spreading everywhere their sheltering\narms for the suffering poor.\n\nFranciscans, Ursulines, Sisters of Charity, we have in our midst,\nshowing, by their lives of self-abnegation in this hard, worldly\nage and country, that the evangelical counsel, to forsake all for\nChrist's sake, is not obsolete.\n\nBut another branch of the great tree of charity that, like the\nbanyan, plants itself and rises with new life and vigor wherever\nit takes root, is about to spread its benign shadow over our\nland.\n\nThe Little Sisters of the Poor are coming among us, and it is\nwell we should know whence they come and what is their work. Like\nthe older orders in the church, _Les Petites Soeurs des\nPauvres_ had a very small beginning.\n\n{111}\n\nIn St. Servan, a small town on the north coast of France, washed\nby the waters of the English Channel, the male peasantry have,\nfrom time immemorial, obtained a scanty living for themselves and\nfamilies by following the sea. This life of exposure and danger\nleaves always, wherever it is followed, many children fatherless\nand wives widows, and often deprives aged parents of their only\nsupport. It was the custom for these poor bereaved widows and\nparents of deceased fishermen to gather about the church-doors,\nasking alms of the congregation as they passed out; many abuses\narose out of this way of distributing charity; the boldest fared\nthe best, and the money thus obtained was often wasted in drink\nor self-indulgence, without providing for any real want. The good\nGod touched the heart of the pious Cur\u00e9 of Servan by the sight of\nthese poor persons, often blind, aged, and infirm, with none to\ncare for them. In the quiet of his own humble home, Abb\u00e9 le\nPailleur thought over the condition of these miserable beings,\ncommending them to his divine Master, and asking the guidance of\nhim \"who had not where to lay his head,\" in his efforts for their\nrelief. The blessed Spirit guided to his direction a young\norphan-girl from the laboring classes, who, for the love of God,\ndesired to do something for those more destitute than herself.\nThe cur\u00e9 recommended to her care an old blind woman, utterly\nwithout friends, and who, from the scanty alms bestowed at the\nchurch-door, was seldom able to obtain the smallest pittance, her\nblindness preventing her access to the charitably inclined.\n\nNot many weeks passed, before another poor seamstress confided to\nher pastor the same desire to work for Christ's poor; she was\npermitted to share the labors of the other, both working all day,\nand coming by turns at night to watch and tend and to provide for\nthe old blind woman, with what they could spare from their own\nsmall earnings. At length, that there might be no loss of time\nand labor, Marie Augustine and Marie Theresa hired an attic where\nthey dwelt together, and took their aged pensioner to share their\nhome.\n\nHere their devotion and self-denial attracted the attention of a\nservant, Jenny Jugan, [Footnote 19] who, by industry and\nfrugality in early life, had accumulated about six hundred\nfrancs. She asked to go with them, and to share with them, giving\nher all to the good work, taking her part of the toils and\nprivations, and bringing with her one or two aged poor. Thus, on\nthe feast of St. Theresa, 1840, the house of \"The Little Sisters\nof the Poor\" may be said to have been established.\n\n [Footnote 19: Jenny Jugan was about forty. She was living in\n the attic mentioned, and received in that place the poor\n blind who had been under the care of Marie Augustine and\n Marie Theresa.]\n\nAbb\u00e9 le Pailleur had early given them a rule of life, one article\nof which they pondered with special care: \"We will delight above\nall things in showing tenderness toward those aged poor who are\ninfirm or sick; we will never refuse to assist them when occasion\npresents itself, but we must take great care not to meddle in\nwhat does not concern us.\" They still went about their daily\nlabors, and though their earnings never exceeded one franc per\nday, at night they shared it with those whom God had confided to\ntheir care. The cur\u00e9 helped them to the extent of his resources,\nwhich were very limited. Prayer and faith were the means whereby\nthey made so little serve for so many. The good Lord who heareth\nthe cry of the ravens listened to the pleading of the Little\nSisters, and sent them a faithful friend and benefactress in one\nFanchion Aubert, who took no vows, but gave all her substance to\ntheir work, wishing to live and die among them.\n{112}\nShe possessed a little property, a small stock of the plainest\nfurniture, and a quantity of linen; with these she came, sharing\neverything with them and their poor. By her thrift she had gained\ncredit in St. Servan, and through her the sisters were able to\nleave the attic, and rent a long, low dwelling with space for\ntwelve beds, which were immediately filled. And now came the time\nwhen, with the small band of sisters and the multiplication of\npensioners, the age and infirmities of their poor required all\ntheir attention; they could no longer go out to earn anything;\nand though those of the old women who were able did sometimes\nassist the funds of the establishment by begging, their faithful\nguardians desired to save them from the temptations and\ndegradation to which such a life too often led them.\n\nHelp came now and then, but not enough to supply all the needy\nones, and the sisters often went hungry. They sought counsel of\nthe father of the house, Abb\u00e9 le Pailleur. After prayer and\nmeditation, he proposed to the sisters that for the love of God\nthey themselves should become beggars. Most cheerfully they went\nforth with baskets on their arms, asking charity, \"the crumbs\nthat fell from the rich man's table.\" From that day they have\nprovided in this way for their destitute ones; nothing comes\namiss, the refuse of the table or the wardrobe is accepted\nthankfully. These mendicant sisters have never been without their\nshare of contumely and reproach. Members of older orders in the\nbeginning turned the cold shoulder upon them, and they were\nspurned from the presence of one _religieuse_ with the\nreproach, \"Don't speak to me, I am ashamed of your basket!\" but\nthey only renewed their entire consecration to God, and went on\nbegging. At length their basement was crowded to suffocation; the\nabb\u00e9 sold his gold watch, and with the remains of Fanchion's\nproperty, and all their savings, they made the first payments for\na large house; before the end of the year, the twenty-two\nthousand francs (the price of the house) were all paid. Here they\ntook that name so redolent of sweetness and humility, \"Little\nSisters of the Poor,\" and here they accepted fully what before\nhad been necessarily imperfect, their rule of life, taking, in\naddition to the usual vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience,\nthe vow of hospitality. At the end of two years, fifty aged\npeople were fed and clothed by the begging sisters, and comforted\nand cared for with all the assiduity of the most tender love.\nTheir rule was to divide all the broken victuals among the poor,\nand feed themselves upon what remained, never murmuring if they\nwent without. One winter's night, when the old people, fed and\ncared for, had gone to their rest, the sisters had for their\nsuppers only about a quarter of a pound of bread. They sat down\ncheerfully at the table, said their Benedicite, and passed the\nbread from one to the other, each declining any right to it, and\nall pretending to be well able to do without it. Before it had\nbeen decided how the loaf should be divided, the bell rang; some\none had sent them a supply of meat and bread. \"Trust in the Lord\nand do good, and verily thou shalt be fed,\" was the motto of\ntheir holy lives. It will not surprise us to learn that, in\nreturn for their self-sacrifice, Almighty God gave them many\nsouls from among the abandoned and often dissolute people, who,\nbut for the peaceful refuge of their home, would have been lost\nin the whirlpool of ignorance and vice. To bring back these poor\ncreatures to their forgotten Father was the delight of the\nzealous sisters, and they felt themselves well rewarded when they\nsaw these darkened minds opening to the truth, and returning to\nsit at the feet of Jesus with loving penitence.\n\n{113}\n\nBut the house was filled to overflowing, and they resolved to\nbuild. They well knew in whose hands are the gold and silver, and\ninto his ever-listening ear they poured their new want.\n\nThe reply did not linger, for they worked as well as prayed. At\nthe sight of the zeal with which they began to clear the stones\nfrom a piece of ground, which they already owned, and to dig the\nfoundations, workmen came, materials were sent, and alms flowed\nin abundantly.\n\nSome time previous a person from the Island of Jersey, which is\nnot far from St. Servan, came to that town to seek for an aged\nrelative. He found her sheltered by the \"Little Sisters,\" and\nwith devout thanksgiving to God he gave alms of all that he\npossessed, and at his death bequeathed the house seven thousand\nfrancs. This legacy fell to them as they began the building, and\nwith the new house came new souls, ready to consecrate themselves\nto the service of God's poor, and with these new sisters came the\ndesire that the hand of charity might be held out to the poor of\nother regions. The elder of the two girls who were first banded\ntogether in this order, and who was now called Mother Marie\nAugustine, with four sisters, went out from the mother-house, and\nestablished themselves at Rennes, a town of forty thousand\ninhabitants, fifty or sixty miles from their first home. The\ntrust in Providence which led to this movement was greatly\nblessed, and soon there came another call from the town of Dinan.\nThis call came from the mayor of the city, who thought it a\nwonderful stroke of policy to provide for the town's poor without\ndrawing on the city treasury. The sisters went without hesitancy,\nand in 1846 had three well-established houses, which ten of the\nsisterhood supported by begging.\n\nIn France, as in this country, it has been for a long time the\ncustom for persons living in the interior to seek the sea-coast\nduring the summer months. A young lady coming from Tours to St.\nServan did not, as too many do, leave all thoughts of her\nreligion behind, but in her temporary sojourn gave herself to\ngood works. Attracted by the genuine humility and piety of the\n\"Little Sisters of the Poor,\" she begged them to go back with her\nto Tours. They asked only a roof to shelter and liberty to work,\nand in January, 1847, they hired in that city a small house in\nwhich they received at once a dozen poor people. In 1848, they\nbought, for 80,000 francs, a very large building, and found\nshelter for a hundred. How this sum was paid and the family\nsupported remains a secret with the angel who makes record of\nalms-deeds. For the food of these poor people, every caf\u00e9 was\nengaged to save their coffee-grounds and tea-leaves, and schools,\ncolleges, barracks, and families their crusts of bread; each\nsister, as she went forth, carried on her arm a large tin pail,\ndivided in compartments, which allowed the scraps of bread and\nmeat, with the cups of broth and other fragments, to be kept\napart from each other. At their return, these bits were\noverlooked, and by the hands of the sisters made into very\npalatable dishes for their beloved poor. But we must not forget\nthat other and more arduous and disagreeable duties were required\nof these indefatigable workers than even providing their food\nfrom such material.\n{114}\nThe nursing, tending, and watching of these poor creatures whose\nformer lives of misery had often brought upon them repulsive\ninfirmities and diseases, lifting the helpless, comforting the\nforlorn, and bearing with the ungrateful, all these must be\nshared by these devoted women, who had undertaken to follow the\ncommand of the apostle, to provide for the aged and the widow.\nMost of these nuns came from the people; many of them had\nwitnessed want and woe from their infancy, and understood the\nspecial needs of the poor; but now and then ladies of rank and\neducation joined them, all working together in perfect equality,\neach undertaking that class of duties for which she was best\nfitted. Many a sister has been truly a martyr for Christ, in\nworking for these ignorant, degraded beings, often obstinate and\nfull of ingratitude. But \"it is not for the sake of gratitude we\nnurse them,\" said a sister whose pale face showed the wearing\nnature of her cares: \"it is because in them we see _le bon\nDieu!_\"\n\nTo tell the story of the journeyings from place to place all over\nFrance, the difficulty with which they took root in some of the\nlarger cities, and the comparative welcome they met in the\nsmaller towns, would fill a volume. From France they went to\nBelgium, to Spain, to Switzerland, and lately to Ireland, and\neven to Protestant England and Scotland. To-day one hundred and\neight houses of this order are scattered over Europe, with a\nsisterhood of eighteen hundred women, who watch over, comfort,\nand maintain more than twelve thousand poor old men and women,\nwithout money and without price save the voluntary offerings of\nthe cheerful giver!\n\nIn England the appearance of the order excited at first much\ncuriosity, but many turned away from them with aversion, the\naversion which centuries of false teaching has planted in the\nminds of most Protestant communities against all religious\norders; but their uniform humility, gentleness, and kindness won\nthe day. In Park Row, Bristol, England, in Bayswater, in London,\nas well as in other places, their convents are admirably\nconducted, and they welcome visitors most cordially; wherever\nthey go they become popular. \"We get a good deal in England,\"\nsaid one of the sisters; \"the English are very good to us, though\nthey are Protestants.\" There is something in simple, honest trust\nin God which touches the heart, and often those who at first\nturned away from the begging sisters, in the end prove their\nwarmest supporters.\n\nOn his way to business a butcher, belonging in London, and\nglorying in the name of \"a stanch Protestant,\" was induced to\nvisit one of the convents. He was so delighted with the charity\nand with all he saw, that he told the \"good mother\" to let the\nconvent cart call at his stall once a week, and he would give\nthem soup-meat for the house. As he went away, his conscience\nreproached him; the \"horns and hoofs\" of the dreadful \"beast\" of\nwhom he had so often heard appeared before him; he might be\nsuspected of a leaning toward popery! But then his Anglo-Saxon\ncommon sense told him that to help the aged and infirm was right,\npopery or not, and he kept his word; the meat is always ready\nwhen the cart arrives, but no communication passes between the\nsister who takes and the man who gives; he has not yet lost his\nfear of the \"seven heads and ten horns, and the number 666.\"\n\n{115}\n\nThe institution of this order at least makes plain one fact: that\nnumbers of poor can be well supported from the waste of the rich.\nIt ought also to put to silence those who scoff at the idea of an\noverruling Providence--the _living_ God rather, who cares\nfor the raven and the sparrow, and is constantly working miracles\nunder our eyes, whereby the hungry are fed and the naked clothed.\n\nMadame Guizot de Witt, a-Protestant lady, says: \"Every time I\nvisit one of the houses of the 'Little Sisters,' and see their\nbands of old people--aged children, so neatly dressed, so well\ntaken care of, occupied and amused in every way that age or\nweakness allow, I seem to hear the voice which says, 'Go, and do\nthou likewise.'\"\n\nThis band of noble workers is coming among us, to gather the\nabundance that falls from our tables, often wasted, or thrown to\ndumb beasts, while souls made in the image of God look on with\nhungry eyes.\n\nHow shall we greet these servants of God? If we receive the\n\"Little Sister\" kindly, giving of our plenty when she asks, she\nwill thank God; if we turn away with cold questioning, she still\nthanks God that she may bear trial for his sake.\n\nTo the thrifty American mind, this scheme of beggary will, no\ndoubt, appear to some as a nuisance, and call for the\ninterference of the laws against begging; but there are others\nwhom the hand of God has touched; these will welcome to the\nfreedom of our land a band of sisters whose charity beareth all\nthings, endureth all things, and hopeth all things. But however\nwe receive them, they will still go on, and if they are turned\naway from one town or city by the iron hand, they will bring a\nblessing upon another, both now and in that day when the Judge\nshall say, \"Come, ye blessed of my Father, possess the kingdom\nprepared for you from the foundation of the world: for I was\nhungry, and ye gave me meat; thirsty, and ye gave me drink; I was\na stranger, and ye took me in; naked, and ye covered me: ... for\nas long as ye did it to one of my least brethren, ye did it to\nme.\"\n\n\n List Of The Houses Founded By The\n Little Sisters Of The Poor.\n\n _In France_.--\n The novitiate at Latour;\n St. Joseph, near Becherel, (Ile et Vilaine;)\n Rennes;\n St. Servan;\n Dinan;\n Tours;\n Nantes;\n Paris, Rue St. Jacques near the Val de Grace;\n Besan\u00e7on;\n Angers;\n Bordeaux;\n Rouen;\n Nancy;\n Paris, Avenue de Breteuil;\n Laval;\n Lyon, \u00e1 la Vilette;\n Lille;\n Marseilles;\n Bourges;\n Pau;\n Vannes;\n Colmar;\n La Rochelle;\n Dijon;\n St. Omer;\n Brest;\n Chartres;\n Bolbec;\n Paris, Rue Beccaria, Faubourg St. Antoine;\n Toulouse;\n St. Dizier;\n Le Havre;\n Blois;\n Le Maus;\n Tarare;\n Paris, Rue Notre Dame des Champs;\n Orleans;\n Strasbourg;\n Caen;\n St. Etienne;\n Perpignan;\n Montpellier;\n Agen;\n Poitiers;\n St. Quentin;\n Lisieux;\n Annonay;\n Amiens;\n Roanne;\n Valenciennes;\n Grenoble;\n Draguignan;\n Chateauroux;\n Roubaix;\n Boulogne;\n Dieppe;\n Beziers;\n Clermont Ferrand;\n Lyons, La Croix Rousse;\n Metz;\n Nice;\n Lorient;\n Nevers;\n Flers;\n Villefranche;\n Cambrai;\n Niort;\n Paris, Rue Philippe Gerard;\n Les Sables d'Olonne;\n Troyes;\n Maubeuge;\n Nimes;\n Toulon;\n Tourcoing;\n Cherbourg;\n Valence;\n P\u00e9rigueux;\n and one just now beginning in Dunkerque.\n\n _In Switzerland._--Genevra.\n\n _In Belgium_.--\n Bruxelles, Rue Haute;\n Liege, at the Chartreuse;\n Jemmapes, near Mons;\n Louvain;\n Antwerp;\n Bruges;\n Ostende;\n Namur.\n\n{116}\n\n _In Spain_.--\n Barcelona;\n Maureza;\n Granada;\n Lerida;\n Lorca;\n Malaga;\n Antequera;\n Madrid, Calle della Hortaletza;\n Jaen;\n Reuss;\n two more are preparing in Valence and Andalusia.\n\n _In England, Ireland, and Scotland_.--\n London, (Southwark,) South Lambeth Road;\n London, (Bayswater,) Portobello Lane;\n Manchester, Plymouth Grove;\n Bristol, Park Row;\n Birmingham, Cambridge Street Crescent;\n Leeds, Hanover Square;\n Newcastle-on-Tyne, Clayton Street;\n Plymouth, St. Mary's;\n Waterford;\n Edinburgh, Gilmore Place;\n Glasgow, Garngad Hill;\n Lochee, near Dundee;\n a new foundation beginning in Tipperary.\n\n _In the United States_.--\n No house exists as yet, but the \"Little Sisters of the Poor\"\n are preparing three foundations which are to take place very\n soon, one in Brooklyn, De Kalb Avenue; a second one in New\n Orleans, in the buildings occupied by the Widows' Home; the\n third one in Baltimore, with the charge, too, of the Widows'\n Home; besides these, several other foundations are\n contemplated in the course of the next and of following year.\n\n ----------\n\n Religion Medically Considered.\n\n\nBy the term \"religion,\" we mean that divine code mercifully\nrevealed by God to mankind, in the old and new dispensations, as\ntheir rule of faith and practice. Its precepts have reference\nboth to the corporal and spiritual, the temporal and eternal\nwelfare of men. Religion, it is true, in its higher sphere,\naddresses itself to the soul. It embraces the affections,\nemotions, and sentiments of our spiritual nature, and its\ndirection is always toward the infinite fountain of love and\nwisdom. Yet its scope, while for eternity, is for time also. When\nGod first revealed himself to Moses, the Israelites were fast\nrelapsing into heathenism, with, its pernicious and degrading\nhabits of life. Under the divine inspiration, however, the\nprophet imbued them anew with faith in the true God, and\npresented them at the same time with an admirable code of\npractical life. He taught them to love and fear God, to obey his\ncommandments, to live soberly and uprightly in themselves, and to\npractise justice and love toward each other. He continually\nplaced before them the divine promises of not only eternal but\nalso temporal rewards for obedience, and, in like manner, the\nthreatened penalties of disobedience. Viewed even as practical\nrules of living for earthly life alone, his are models of\nexcellence. No man has ever done more toward retaining that\ntabernacle of the human soul, the earthly body, in a pure and\nhealthy condition than this great lawgiver. Contrast the precepts\ngiven by God through him to the Israelites after he had brought\nthem out of the land of Egypt, with those of the Egyptians, of\nthe Canaanites, and other heathen nations of the period. How wise\nand elevating are the tendencies of the one! What injustice,\ninhumanity, and degradation mark the other!\n{117}\nOn the one hand, love supreme to God and to one's neighbor as\none's self, joined with forbearance, justice, truthfulness,\nhonesty, chastity, temperance, cleanliness even, and rigid\nadherence to what would now be termed sound sanitary principles;\nwhile on the heathen side, what may be comprised in three\nwords--selfishness, sensuality, and force. The fruits of\nobedience to the former were, even here, comparative immunity\nfrom disease and its sufferings, with enhanced material\nprosperity and happiness, and with increased longevity; while to\nthe other there came the legitimate penalties of inordinate\nself-indulgence, of selfishness and evil-living; the fruits of\nthe laws of life which heathenism gave to them.\n\nIt is hence that we claim for religion--for the religious\nprecepts revealed to man by the divinely inspired prophets of the\nold dispensation, that they contributed vastly to the physical\nand temporal well-being of the race. The God of nature required\nthat there should be no violation of the laws of nature; that our\norgans and faculties, designed for legitimate uses, should not be\nsubjected to abuse and perversion. Hence temperance and\nmoderation, and a rigid avoidance of whatever tended to a\nviolation of the natural laws of health, were enjoined upon man\nas duties of religious obligation. That the mortal body might be\nand remain a fit enclosure of the immortal soul, the inspired\nteachings of the old law descended to the minutest details of the\nlaws of health and life. This, indeed, constituted the less\nexalted sphere of religion, yet one of prime importance, so far\nas the well-being and happiness of earthly life was concerned.\n\nEven, then, should we, for the moment, ignore religion in its\nhigher relations, and leave out of the question a future\nexistence, regarding man merely as an animal who is to be\nannihilated at death; still we shall find that by its precepts\nand its influence it has always largely contributed to his\nmeasure of health, happiness, and longevity.\n\nIt is our purpose, in this paper, to confine our remarks to this\nview of the case, and to discuss the influence of religion and a\nChristian life upon man in his physical and earthly relations.\nFor the atheist even, for the deist and the sceptic, we claim\nthat the precepts and practice of Christianity are, above all\nother systems and modes of life, conducive to physical and mental\nhealth and vigor, to true enjoyment and long life.\n\nNearly all of the eminent philosophers and heathen teachers\nbefore and at the time of Christ seem to have regarded the\npursuit of sensual pleasure as life's chief aim and end. True,\nthey advised a certain measure of moderation in the gratification\nof the appetites and passions, in order that the vitality might\nnot be too rapidly exhausted; but this was their only limit to\nself-indulgence; religious or moral obligation was not taken into\nthe account in making up the programme of practical life. The\npagan disciples of Aristotle, Socrates, and Plato, as well as the\nmore cultivated and polished polytheists of the empire of the\nCaesars, lived for sensual enjoyment alone. Even human life was\nmade subservient to this dominant idea, as the frequent and\nwanton murders of slaves and newly born children demonstrate.\n\n{118}\n\nEarly failure of the vital forces, followed by disease and its\naccompanying physical and mental suffering, was the fruitful\nresult. A participation in the revels of the temples of Venus and\nof Bacchus might give its few brief hours of sensual pleasure;\nbut violated nature always inflicted her bitter penalties\ntherefore, in the form of painful and tedious morbid reactions.\nThe spectator at the Colosseum may have been momentarily excited\nby the bloody scenes of the arena; but the simple instincts of\nhumanity must have filled the soul with horror and disgust, on\nsubsequent reflection upon the cruelty involved therein. Even in\nthe higher planes of pagan life, in the very lyceums and groves\nof the philosophers of the Augustan age, so lax and inefficient\nwas the moral code of the day, and such their own imperfect moral\nteachings, that the practical life-results were little better.\nOne can appreciate the reality of this when he calls to mind the\nutter variance of the new law of Christ, when first introduced\namong them, with nearly all the philosophies, customs, and habits\nof the period. He has but to read, for this purpose, the\nfrightful description of ancient heathen society given by St.\nPaul in the latter half of the first chapter of his epistle to\nthe Romans, addressed to the Christian converts from among this\nvery people. Without the restraining and healthful influences of\ntrue religion, to what depths of moral and physical degradation\nis not human nature capable of bringing itself! [Footnote 20]\n\"Professing themselves to be wise,\" says the apostle, \"they\nbecame fools. ... Wherefore God gave them up to the desires of\ntheir heart, to uncleanness, to shameful affections, and to a\nreprobate sense:\" [thereby] \"receiving in themselves the\nrecompense which was due to their error. ... Being filled with\nall iniquity, malice, fornication, covetousness, wickedness, full\nof envy, murder, contention, deceit, malignity, whisperers,\ndetractors, hateful to God, contumelious, proud, haughty,\ninventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, foolish,\ndissolute, without affection, without fidelity, without mercy.\"\n\n [Footnote 20: Romans i. 21-33.]\n\nIn contrasting, then, the principles, habits, and lives of the\nLatin subjects of the Roman empire with those inculcated by\nChrist in the new law, it will be found that the latter were by\nfar the most conducive to physical and mental vigor, material\nhappiness, and longevity. In one example we have a material\nphilosophy, wealth, sensuality, and unlimited self-indulgence; in\nthe other, a Christian code, inculcating virtue, charity,\nmorality, temperance, and moderation in all things. The fruits of\nboth systems were plainly visible, even in the days of Christ.\n\nIt has been estimated that more than one fourth part of the\npopulation of the empire, under Augustus and Tiberius Caesar,\nwere slaves. The condition of these bondmen was deplorable. They\nwere not only deprived of all political and social rights, but\nwere regarded as soulless and devoid of moral responsibility.\nHuman slavery was a legitimate offspring of the pagan\nphilosophies of the period.\n\nAnother portion of the Roman people, amounting to about one half\nof the entire population, occupied a moral and social status\nnearly as low as that of the slave. The mothers, wives, and\ndaughters of Roman citizens were regarded as inferior beings,\nmere pets and playthings of the men, household ornaments, useful\nonly so far as they were capable of contributing to the sensual\npleasures of their lords and masters. This wanton degradation of\nthe sex was another direct result of the pernicious teachings of\nthose men who are still lauded and honored by the world as models\nof wisdom and virtue!\n{119}\nThe free patricians and plebeians, comprising less than one third\nof the entire population, and possessing nearly all of the\nnational wealth, devoted their lives in striving to add to the\nmilitary power and glory of the empire, and in the pursuit of\nworldly pleasure. In the furtherance of these objects, neither\nright, justice, humanity, nor even life itself was regarded as\nimportant when opposed to their dominant passions. Such were the\nmaterialists of that day.\n\nLet us now turn to the precepts of our blessed Saviour, and their\nimmediate practical results in elevating humanity to a higher\nplane, and in enhancing the general welfare of the human race.\nThe fundamental principles of the Christian system are, besides\nfaith in the revealed mysteries, supreme love to God and\nfraternal love to man. \"Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with thy\nwhole heart, and with thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind.\nThis is the greatest and first commandment. And the second is\nlike to this: Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these\ntwo commandments dependeth the whole law and the prophets.\"\n(Matt. xxii. 37-40.) \"All things, therefore, whatsoever you would\nthat men should do to you, do you also to them: for this is the\nlaw and the prophets.\" (Matt. vii. 12.)\n\nOne of the first-fruits of these new ideas was a recognition by\nthe Christian converts of the dignity and brotherhood of all\nmankind, and of the equality of all in the sight of God. Thus\nwere females and slaves at once elevated to their proper\npositions in the scale of humanity. They could no longer be\nregarded as mere instruments of sensual gratification, but were\nrecognized as brethren, children of a common father, co-workers\nand coequals in the spiritual vineyard of our Lord Jesus Christ.\n\nHow readily, then, can we comprehend the ardent and untiring\ndevotion and love which were everywhere evinced by Christian\nwomen for their divine Redeemer and Benefactor! How readily can\nwe explain the boundless enthusiasm and joy of the multitudes of\npoor, oppressed, and disease-stricken men who followed Jesus from\nplace to place for consolation and restoration! When these\nmultitudes heard the precious sermon upon the mount, so much at\nvariance with the prevalent tenets and practices of the world,\nthey were amazed and delighted; for in it false philosophies, a\nvicious civilization, and pernicious usages were rebuked, mankind\nexalted to a higher sphere, and humanity vindicated.\n\nAs the lives of the pagans were natural reflexes of their false\nand inhuman moral and social codes, so were the lives of the\nChristians natural reflexes of the divine code. The foundations\nof the one were idolatry, selfishness, sensuality,\nuncharitableness, pride, and arrogance; of the other, godliness,\ncharity, love, humility, and benevolence. Humanity cannot clothe\nitself with the first without chilling and paralyzing the higher\nimpulses of the soul, and fostering the bitter germs of mental\nand physical sorrow. Nor can it adopt the last without developing\nthose spiritual attributes which elevate, refine, and bless the\npossessor.\n\nLet us come down to our own day, where materialism, sensuality,\nand general immorality are nearly as common as in the days of the\napostles. We call ourselves Christians, profess to believe in one\nGod, in the immortality of the soul, and in a future state of\nrewards and punishments; but practically, in actual life, many\ncommunities are as inhuman, as sensual, as material, and as\nimmoral as were the pagans of the golden age.\n\n{120}\n\nThe pagan disciples of Aristotle, for instance, did not hesitate\nto violate the sacred germs of humanity, and thus to blast the\nsouls of multitudes of victims, for the purpose of preventing too\ngreat an increase of population. The religion of Christ changed\nall this, and true Christians have ever heeded the change. But\nthe recent work of Dr. Storer, of Boston, and official\nlegislative reports, demonstrate that this great crime is quite\nas prevalent in the modern Athens and in the State which contains\nit, as it was in the worst days of the Roman empire. The\ninfluence of this alarmingly prevalent crime of our own day and\nof our own nation is baneful in the extreme. On strictly sanitary\nand material grounds, it is to be deprecated as an evil of the\ngreatest magnitude. Among its deleterious results may be recorded\ndiseases of important vital organs, which are in turn reflected\nto the entire nervous system, and a consequent train of physical\nand mental disorders, which make life a burden instead of a\nblessing. Here, then, we see that a truly Christian mode of\nliving is more conducive to health, happiness, and long life than\nthat of the sensual materialist.\n\nContemplate, again, the world of wealth, fashion, and pleasure.\nBehold the pomp, the luxury, and the numerous sensual enjoyments\nwhich make up so largely its sum of life. Follow the votaries of\npleasure in their daily and nightly rounds, sit at their\nepicurean tables, accompany them to routs, balls, play-houses,\nand innumerable other places of resort, which temptingly beckon\nthem on every hand. Be with them also in their sleeping, and at\ntheir early morning hours, when the inevitable reactions manifest\nthemselves; when pains, lassitude, and nervous and mental\ndepression overtake them. Read their interior convictions,\nthoughts and regrets for ill-spent time, and for perversions of\nthe higher faculties. Consult the epicure, who \"lives to eat\" and\nto stimulate his artificial appetite daily with highly seasoned\ndishes. He will discourse eloquently upon the pleasures of the\ntable; but he can depict also the horrors of indigestion,\nhypochondria, and not unfrequently of paralysis, apoplexy, and\nkindred ailments. Consult the wine-bibber and the\nwhiskey-drinker. They can point to the enormous revenues which\nthe government derives from their patronage; to the innumerable\ndrinking-saloons which cover the land, and which are sustained\nand enriched by them; to the numerous dens, above-ground and\nunder-ground, where the poor congregate to imbibe fiery poisons\nthat steal away their brains and the bread of their wives and\nchildren; to the untold millions which are expended in their\ntraffic by men of all classes and conditions.\n\nThese men can portray the temporary delights and excitements of\nsuch exhilarating beverages. They can tell you how the brain\nglows, how the pulse rises, and how all the organs and faculties\nare roused to preternatural energy under the influence of these\npotent agents. But alas! what multitudes have experienced the\ndreadful reactions which always follow their habitual use! What\nmultitudes have gone down to the grave prematurely with Bright's\ndisease, liver-complaint, softening of the brain, dropsy,\ninsanity, paralysis, delirium tremens, etc., victims of these\ninsidious poisons! In the United States especially, the\nprevalence and the evils of whiskey-drinking are truly monstrous.\nIt is the dominant curse, the crying evil of the day. It pervades\nall of the ramifications of social life.\n{121}\nIt numbers its victims by millions of all ages, sexes, and\nconditions. It corrupts and undermines the very foundation of\nhealth, perverts and degrades the intellectual and moral\nfaculties, and depresses men deep, deep into the lower strata of\nhumanity.\n\nThousands have become habitual drinkers, and ultimately confirmed\ninebriates, through the advice of their medical advisers. In\naccordance with some absurd hypothesis, or perchance to please\ntheir patients, too many medical men, during the past twenty\nyears, have ordered the habitual use of whiskey, rum, brandy, and\nother stimulants. The calamities thus entailed are fearful to\ncontemplate; and those thoughtless physicians who have\ncontributed so largely in extending this great national vice will\nbear to their graves a dreadful responsibility.\n\nSo far, then, as eating and drinking are concerned, it is evident\nthat the precepts of the Christian religion are far better\ncalculated to promote the welfare of mankind than are those of\nthe man of pleasure. Religion inculcates simplicity, frugality,\ntemperance; and the fruits are physical and mental vigor and\ntranquil enjoyment. Irreligion encourages unrestrained convivial\nexcesses; and the results are disease, pain, and general\ndebasement.\n\nNote, again, the devotees of fashion, whose pleasure consists in\nunnatural and artificial excitements, who regard the ordinary\naffairs and duties of life as tame and irksome, who convert night\ninto day, and who are happy only when in the midst of the\nexaggerations, the frivolities, the romances of life. Do these\nindividuals employ their faculties or their time in accordance\nwith the laws of nature, or with reference to the duties and\ndestinies which manifestly pertain to them? The excitements of\nthe play-house, the ballroom, the race-course, and similar places\nof fashionable resort are prone to divert the mind from the\nserious duties of life, to engender morbid tastes and sentiments,\nand to implant feelings of discontent with reference to ordinary\nduties and occupations. When indulged in to such an extent, these\namusements are unchristian, and therefore derogatory to health\nand happiness. Not in the gilded saloons of fashion are to be\nfound peace, contentment, and charity. Not in the souls of\npleasure-seeking devotees are to be found real satisfaction and\nenjoyment. But among those who lead religious lives, whether high\nor low, rich or poor, wise or simple, will be found the highest\ndevelopments of love, virtue, health, and true happiness.\n\nA worldly life develops and fosters all that is sensual and\nselfish in man. It continually rouses the organs and faculties of\nthe system into abnormal activity and excitement. It perverts the\ndelicate and sensitive functions of the organism from their\nlegitimate uses to the gratification of transient impulse,\npassion, and caprice. It plays with the thousand living nerves\nand fibres as upon the inanimate strings of an instrument,\nheedless whether the overstrained and palpitating chords of life\nsnap asunder under the exciting ordeal. Its fruits, consequently,\nare demoralizing, and in the highest degree detrimental to\nhealth, usefulness, and happiness.\n\nIn a religious life how great a contrast is presented! Such a\nlife develops and fosters the highest and purest attributes of\nthe soul. It rouses into ever-living activity the divine\nsentiments of love and charity, and puts far away sensuality,\nselfishness, and inordinate and unlawful self-indulgence.\n{122}\nIt inculcates temperance, moderation, disinterested benevolence,\nchastity, and the cultivation of those virtues and graces which\nsecure health, contentment, and tranquil happiness.\n\nFrom a strictly material point of view, then, we may rest assured\nthat a truly religious life is far more conducive to genuine\npleasure and to longevity than a mere worldly one. A simple\ncontemplation of the complicated and sensitive human organism, of\nits physiology and its subjection to certain natural laws and\nrequirements, renders the justness of our position manifest.\nHealth can only be maintained by a just equilibrium in the action\nof all the organs, functions, and faculties. Every overaction,\nevery undue excitement, is followed by a corresponding reaction\nwhich is depressing, debilitating, and productive of more or less\ndisorder and suffering.\n\nThe thoughts, energies, and hopes of men of business are too\ngenerally absorbed in the eager pursuit of wealth. Their ideas,\naspirations, and daily and hourly actions pertain solely to this\nworld. From childhood to old age the idea of eternity is almost\nentirely put from them. Practically, these men are infidels,\nbecause every act of their lives, from waking to sleeping, has\nsole reference to the present life. They live and think and act\nas if they were to remain for ever on this earth. They put far\nfrom them the momentous realities of the near future, and cling\nto the riches, the pomps, the vanities, and the frivolities of\nthis world like monomaniacs. Follow them to their counting-rooms,\nto their clubs, to their places of recreation, to their homes,\nand see how much of care, anxiety, and suffering, and how small\nan amount of tranquil happiness, attend them. Contrast the lives\nand the deaths of these devotees of business and riches with\nthose of the humble and exemplary Christian. Is there a doubt on\nwhich side health, contentment, and true enjoyment of life will\nbe found? \"Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth; but\nlay up for yourselves treasures in heaven: for where your\ntreasure is, there will your heart be also. ... Ye cannot serve\nGod and mammon.\" (Matt. vi. 19, 20, 21, 24.)\n\nLet it not be thought that we are opposed to a reasonable\ndevotion to material and worldly affairs, or that we would place\na single obstacle in the way of human progress, whether\npertaining to trade, commerce, or the useful and ornamental arts.\nEvery man in his sphere has duties to perform; but it must not be\nforgotten that these duties are neither exclusively material nor\nyet spiritual. Let it not be forgotten that the _soul_ has\nits wants and necessities as also the _body_. And let it not\nbe forgotten that, while the physical man is but for a day, the\nspiritual man is for eternity. The wise man, therefore, will\nrecognize the fact that there is a time for all things--for\nbusiness, for recreation, for mental culture, and (chief of all)\nfor spiritual duties; and he will best accomplish the just ends\nof his existence who rightly appreciates and acts upon this great\ntruth.\n\n ----------\n\n{123}\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n Faith And Poetry Of The Bretons.\n\n\n Continued.\n\n\n Saint-Th\u00eagonnec\n Cemeteries\n Calvaries\n Character Of The People.\n\n\nWe need not traverse the whole of Brittany to have a perfect idea\nof the works of architecture which faith has embellished. In one\nlittle borough-town, Saint-Th\u00e9gonnec, between Morlaix and\nLanderneau, we find all the types of Christian art in Brittany\nconcentrated--church, funereal chapel, burying-vault, calvary,\nand sculptures.\n\nThe Breton cemeteries closely resemble each other; nearly\neverywhere they surround the church, and are enclosed by a low\nwall, often without gates of any kind, merely a small ditch\npreventing the cattle from trespassing on the abode of the dead.\n[Footnote 21] A cross, or a calvary, where the scenes of the\npassion are represented, or sometimes the kneeling statue of a\nloved or lamented pastor's venerated image that recalls his\nvirtues to his faithful people, these are the only monuments of\nthe cemeteries of the Breton villages. The tombs are marked by\nsmall heaps of earth, pressed each against the other, and\nsurmounted by a cross. Some are covered by a stone, and in this\nstone is indented a little cup that gathers the dew and rain from\nheaven, and offers to the mourning relative--the mother, son, the\nfriend--the blessed asperges to accompany the prayer for him who\nlies beneath. [Footnote 22] These cemeteries, placed in the midst\nof towns and villages, cannot be of any great extent; soon,\ntherefore, they are filled with extinct generations, and these\nbodies must be exhumed to make place for new-comers. In one\nvillage, Plouha, after the sons had disinterred the bodies of\ntheir fathers, they decorated the fa\u00e7ade of the church with the\nstones of the tombs, that they might be cold witnesses of their\nmemories, or, at least, might never cover the bodies of others.\nThe general resting-place for these exhumed bones is a mortuary\nchapel constructed by the side of the church; and if a glance is\ntaken through the Gothic arch which opens on this charnel-house,\nbones upon bones may be seen heaped up and mingled like blades of\nstraw. These were men who have walked on the earth, now solitary\nand forsaken until the eternal resurrection.\n\n [Footnote 21: At Goueznon, at Plabennec, etc.]\n\n [Footnote 22: We see in Algeria little cups hollowed in the\n sepulchral stones of the Mussulmans; but this water is only\n used by the birds to satisfy their thirst, or to water the\n flowers that decorate the tombs.]\n\nBut at Saint-Th\u00e9gonnec a more respectful and tender sentiment has\ntried to preserve intact at least a portion of these bodies so\nrudely torn from the earth. Before entering the church, we are\nstruck by an unexpected sight; from every projection of the\nbuilding, on the porches, on the prominent cornices, are laid or\nhung and suspended, one above the other, a multitude of small\nboxes arranged as a chaplet; these little boxes, surmounted each\nby its cross, are coffins, and enclose the skull of an ancestor,\nhis head, or, according to the expressive word of the old\nlanguage, _le chef_, that which is most noble in man, and\nwhich may be resumed. An inscription indicates the date and name:\n\n{124}\n\n \"_Here lies_ LE CHEF _de_ ...\"\n\nAnother touching symbol may be seen through the openings, the\nfuneral archives of families preserved in the shadow of the\nchurch, that rising generations may discover them, so that they\nmay not be forgotten, as they would be, immured in their own\nhomes. [Footnote 23]\n\n [Footnote 23: At Locmariquer there are not only coffins with\n heads, but miniature ones enclosing all the bones, piled one\n above the other like bales of goods, in the place apportioned\n them.]\n\nHere and there on the cornice, exposed to the air, are skulls of\nthe dead, poor creatures once without friends or family to give\nthem burial, painted green, their eyes filled with sand and\nblades of grass projecting from them, often leaning against each\nother; here, one supported perhaps by him who was his bitter\nenemy.\n\nPassing there double rows of coffins, we enter the church, and\nthis is but a repetition of all the Breton churches; everything\nhere--an elegant font, sculptured mouldings, pulpit of choice\nwood and of marvellous workmanship--_chef-d'oeuvre_ of the\nend of the Renaissance, and one of the finest pulpits in\nBrittany--pictures on wood, chisel paintings, ever perpetuating\nthe patriarchs, the kings, and prophets of the Old Testament\nmounting from earth to heaven; even to the Blessed Virgin; vault\nof gold and azure fairly sparkling in its complete beauty; the\nchoir, the altar, and the side chapels filled with statues,\nwreathed columns, heads of angels, flowers, garlands, gilded and\npainted in every color, a perfect stream of gold, verdure,\nbrilliant crimson, and azure.\n\nFrom this refulgent and living whole, a single door rises on the\nside, high and naked; no sculpture, no ornament; the stones sweat\ntheir dampness; the bricks, that have assumed a blackened tint,\nseparated by their white cement, present a lugubrious aspect; a\ngreat mourning veil seems spread before the eyes--this is the\ngate of death. You open, and you pause enchanted. Before you lies\nthe cemetery. At your right, at your left, monument upon monument\nbreaks upon your gaze. Under the porch where you stand are the\nstatues in line of the twelve apostles; and opposite you, a large\ngate with three arches, the gate of the cemetery, in its imposing\nstyle, an arch of triumph, as if the Bretons, passing under it\nthe perishable body, had typified the life eternal, the glory and\nthe joy of the imperishable soul. At the right, a mortuary chapel\nof the style of the Louvre of Henry IV. is erected, its sculpture\nfrom the bottom to the top, an immense _ch\u00e2sse_ pictured in\ngranite; at your left is the calvary, one of those complicated\ncalvaries, found only in Brittany, a whole people of statues;\neighty or a hundred personages in the most natural and simple\nattitudes--disciples, prophets, holy women, thieves on their\ncrosses, guards on horseback, and, towering over all this crowd,\nthe tree of the cross, colossal in its structure, of several\nstones, cross upon cross, and holding on its branches statues of\nthe Virgin, Saint John, the guards, and others, and, in immensity\nof size and above all, the Christ himself, with his arms extended\nover the world, and his eyes uplifted to heaven. Angels are\nthere, too, suspended in the air, and collecting in their\nchalices the precious blood from his hands. [Footnote 24]\n\n [Footnote 24: The calvaries of Plougastel and Pleyben--towns\n so remarkable for their beautiful churches are more\n complicated and grand, perhaps, but not so striking, as this\n one.]\n\n{125}\n\nAnd this is not all: enter the crypt of the mortuary chapel, and\nthere you will find yourself face to face with another\n_chef-d'oeuvre_--the entombing of Christ, the scene which\nhas ever inspired the greatest artists, and in colossal\nproportions. These are painted statues, and the painting adds to\nthe impression, giving to the deeply moved personages the\nappearance of life. You hear them cry, you see their tears course\ndown their pallid faces; the Virgin-Mother with her pressed lips\non the livid feet of her divine Son, the Magdalen overwhelmed\nwith grief and still beautiful in the midst of her sorrow. Can\nyou fail to become an actor in this impassioned scene? You are\nrooted to the spot; the terrible blow that made them surfer\nbecomes your reality, and, grieved to the depths of your soul,\nyou feel your own tears flow; the lapse of ages is forgotten, and\nyou are living in that Calvary scene.\n\nAnd when we think that these works of religious art are spread\nall over Brittany with the same profusion; that in towns\napparently the most remote from any road or centre, at\nSaint-Herbot in the Black Mountains, at Saint-Fiacre, which is\nonly a little village of Laouet, and even less than a village, a\nmiserable hamlet of five or six houses, in the chapel of\nRozegrand near Quimperl\u00e9, a modest manor which hardly merits the\nname of a castle--we find in all these places galleries of\nsculptured wood, painted, gilded, and figured with fifty or more\npersons, rivalling the most costly churches; works so admirably\nreproducing the history, the miracles, and the mysteries of\nreligion, while they preserve among the people and reanimate and\nincrease their ardor and faith, we cannot but ask, What is the\ncause of such a multitude of works of art appearing everywhere on\nthe surface of the country, and what has been the inspiration\nwhich has produced such fruit--richness of invention, truth of\ngesture, expression of physiognomy, a true and deep sentiment of\neverything divine in scenery and action? In all these monuments\nof the middle ages, there is to be found the same truth, the same\npower of imagination, while the artist never repeats himself and\nnever tires you. He leads you on like the musician, scarcely\ngiving you time to recover from one melody ere you are\nsoul-entranced with another still more beautiful.\n\nBut this creative power has a cause; this society--as a man\narrived at maturity with all his work accomplished for the end he\nwould attain--had been prepared by previous ages. Disengaged\nfrom the swaddling-clothes of antiquity, its tongue was formed,\nits religious ideas fixed, and with its new-formed Christianity,\nit was logically constituted--it became a unity. Still in\npossession of such power, this people struggles only to create;\nnever led by contrary tastes or carried away by disorderly and\nunregulated motives, so justly named in our day _caprice_,\nthey cling to what preceding ages have sought for, gathered, and\ninculcated. The materials are ready to their hands, they seize\nthem, and, with the genius of the age, reproduce, in a thousand\nforms, new beauties; the well-filled vase has only to diffuse\nitself and overflow with treasures. Thus, imagination bursts out\neverywhere lively and colored; the same mind, in literature as in\nart, reproduces the varied ornaments of churches, invents fables\nand legends, and finds at every moment new images to represent\nmanners, ideas, opinions; and this imagination, far from\nexhausting itself, grows and increases, not as the forced plant\nof the hot-house, but the natural flower of their own spring.\nAges train on, and the last one bears the crown.\n\n{126}\n\nWe see, too, why such artists--authors of such exquisite\nworks--are so obscure, so unknown. They have not rendered their\nown ideas simply, but those of their race; the sentiments of\ntheir ancestors, of the fathers with whom they have been born and\nraised, have penetrated their whole being, and they have merely\nexpressed their surroundings. Thus, these monuments of art are\nnot only proof of talent and their sojourn on earth, but\nwitnesses of their piety and faith--the worship of a people.\n\nSo, the faith of days past still lives in Brittany: could one\ndoubt it, let him look at the evidences of an unweakened piety\nwhich meet him at every step. See the gifts of the women of the\naristocracy, beautiful scarfs of cashmere, covering the altars of\nthe cathedral of Tr\u00e9guier, and the offerings of the poor, bundles\nof crutches, left at Folgoat by the infirm \"made whole.\" Then the\npilgrimages, vast armies of men and women, moving yearly to their\nfavorite shrine of Saint Anne d'Auray, and the miraculous\npictures, decking from top to bottom this church of the Mother of\nthe Virgin, too small for a Christian museum replenished so\nconstantly. At every step arise new chapels and churches: at\nSaint-Brieuc several were built at once; Lorient, a town peopled\nwith soldiers and sailors, has just raised at its gate a church\nin the style of Louis XIV.; Vitr\u00e9 gives to its church a new bell\nand a sculptured pulpit; the little villages put up in their\ncemeteries calvaries with figures of the middle ages; the calvary\nof Plo\u00ebzal, between Tr\u00e9guier and Guingamp, is dated 1856; Dinan\nrestores and enriches its beautiful church of Saint Malo; Quimper\nthrows to the air two noble spires from the towers of its\ncathedral; the chapel of Saint Ilan, a model of elegance and\ngrace, rises in pure whiteness on the borders of the sea, in the\nmidst of the calm roofs of its pious colony; Nantes, while she\nbuilds several new churches, finishes her immense cathedral, its\ndome of Cologne and Brittany, to which each age has given a hand,\nand in constructing this beautiful church of Saint Nicholas,\nproves what the piety and zeal of a pastor and devoted flock\ncould accomplish, in less than ten years, by alms and gifts. A\nfew years since, at Guingamp, a chapel was dedicated to the\nBlessed Virgin outside the church; the statues are painted of the\ntwelve apostles, the altar is magnificent, and the roof azure and\nstars of gold. No expense was spared, no decoration too great to\nornament the sanctuary of the Virgin. Fifty thousand persons were\nthere the day of the inauguration. These are the national\nholy-days of the Bretons. Elsewhere, people rush to the\ninauguration of princes or the revolutions which presage their\ndownfall; but here they come from all parts of Brittany to assist\nin the coronation of the Queen of heaven. And what piety, what\nrecollection, what gravity in the deportment of these men and\nwomen, kneeling on the pavements of the churches! As at La\nTrappe, so here is seen the same complete absorption of the human\nbeing in the thoughts that fill the soul; the functions of life\nseem annihilated, and, immovable in prayer, they remain in that\nabsolute contemplation in which the saints are represented,\noverwhelmed by sentiments of veneration, submission, and\nhumility: the man is forgotten, the Christian only exists. More\nexpressive even than the monuments are these daily acts of\ndevotion, that evidence the habitual state of the soul.\n\n{127}\n\nWalk, on a market-day, through the square of some city or town of\nFinist\u00e8re. How varied and animated it appears! Rows of little\nwagons standing around, and on these all sorts of merchandise:\nvelvet ribbons and buckles for the men's caps; woollen ornaments\nmade into rosettes for the head-dresses of the women; variegated\npins, ornamented with glass pearls; pipe-holders of wood; little\nmicroscopic pipes and instruments to light them, with other\nuseful and ornamental wares. Under the tents of these movable\nshops, a crowd of men and women are seen. The women with\nhead-dresses of different forms, their large white handkerchiefs\nrounded at the back and carefully crossed on the breast; the men\nwith their pantaloons narrowly tightened, falling low, and\nresting on the hips, so that the shirt may be seen between them\nand the vest, their caps with broad brims covering their long\nhair, often tucked up behind, and walking with measured steps,\ncarrying their canes, never hurried, always calm and dignified.\nTwelve o'clock is heard; from the high bell-tower of the\nneighboring church comes the echoing peal of mid-day; twelve\ntimes it slowly strikes, and then all is hushed. Every one\npauses, is silent. With simultaneous movement, the men doff their\nhats and their long hair falls over their shoulders. All are on\ntheir knees, the sign of the cross is made, and one low murmur\ntells the Angelus. A stranger in such a crowd must kneel;\ninvoluntarily he bends his knee with the rest. The prayer to the\nVirgin finished, they rise again; life and motion commence, and a\ndin is heard, the almost deafening noise of the roar of the sea.\n\nAgain I see them in the church of Cast, (Finist\u00e8re.) It was\nSunday, at the hour of vespers. The bell of the church-tower had\nsounded from the break of day, and crowds of men and women\nsurrounded the church, talking in groups, gently and noiselessly.\nThe bell ceased; the groups broke up and separated into two\nbands, on one side the men, on the other the women, all directing\ntheir steps to the church. The women entered first, and in a\nmoment the nave was filled; the young women of the Confraternity\nof the Blessed Virgin took their places in the middle of the\nchurch, all in white, but their costume ornamented with\nembroidery of gilt and silver, gilded ribbons on their arms,\nbelts of the same encircling their graceful figures, and falling\nin four bands at the back on the plaited petticoat, and the heart\nof gold and cross on the breast of each; in the side aisles, the\nmatrons ranged themselves, wives and mothers, in more varied\ncostumes, gayly colored, head-dresses of deep blue and yellow,\nblue ribbons with silver edges on the brown jackets, red\npetticoats, and clock stockings embroidered in gold. All knelt on\nthe pavement, their heads inclined, their rosaries in their\nhands, and in collected silence.\n\nThe women all placed, another door opened at the side of the\nchurch, and the men's turn came. With grave and measured steps\nthey walked in file, and strange and imposing was the sight--in\ncomparison with the variegated and gay dress of the women, so\nopposingly sombre was that of the men; and yet the attention was\nnot so much riveted by their uniform attire, their long brown\nvests, their large puffed breeches; but their squared heads,\ntheir long features, the quantity of straight hair, covering\ntheir foreheads like thick fleece, and falling in long locks on\ntheir shoulders and down their backs.\n{128}\nAll, children and men grown, wore the same costume, this long\nblack hair, which in the air assumed a sombre reddish tint, and\nfalling on the thick, heavy eyebrows, gave to their eyes an\nexpression of energy, of almost superhuman firmness. They\nscarcely seemed men of our time and country; the grave, immovable\nfaces, with the brilliant eyes scrutinizing at once the character\nand appearance of the stranger among them, the uncultivated heads\nof hair, weighing down their large heads like the manes of wild\nanimals, gave the idea of men apart; men from the wilds of some\nfar country moving among the modern races, with silent gesture\nand solemn step, and uttering brief and pithy sentences, as if\nthey alone held the secrets of the past, the knowledge of the\nmysteries and truths of the olden time.\n\nThey defiled one by one, prostrating themselves before the altar,\nand kneeling in turn on the stone floor, surrounding entirely the\ngrating of the choir. True assemblage of the faithful! The men, a\nstrong soldiery in front, the women behind, a more humble crowd,\nbut each forgetting the other, living but for one thought--for\nGod. For God is not for these _barbarians_ what he is for\nus; we, _civilized inhabitants_ of cities, we try to explain\nGod, and even on our knees in his temples we analyze him, comment\nupon his acts, and even doubt if he exists. They spend no time in\nsuch vain thoughts, barren meditations: for them God is; they\nknow and believe in him. He made the heaven over their heads, the\nearth that produces their harvests, made them themselves, and\npreserves them or takes them to him. He is the Invisible who can\ndo everything, from the heights of the heavens, and everywhere at\nonce; and in comparison with this All-Powerful they feel their\nlittleness, prostrate themselves and adore.\n\n ----------\n\n Count De Montalembert.\n\n\n In that drear twilight, herald of the day\n On which new faith, new hope, new love were born,\n And while my heart still pressed against the thorn\n Of unbelief, like some fresh matin lay\n Of forest warbler in his own loved May,\n Broke, Montalembert, on my trance forlorn,\n Elizabeth's young voice, which sang death's scorn\n In carols with celestial transports gay.\n Now, when cool evening's earliest pensive shade\n Creeps o'er my life, as clear and jubilant\n As that wild mocking-bird's, is heard the chant\n Of mighty abbots, whose processions fade\n Into the dark of ages, made by thee\n New themes for thought and holy minstrelsy.\n\n ----------\n\n{129}\n\n Rings.\n\n\nLooking over an old jewel-case, the other day, I found a ring; no\ntreasured heirloom or _gage d'amour_ of by-gone days, but a\nsimple black circlet, whose sole ornament was a silver heart, on\nwhich were engraved in rude fashion the letters VA. The sight of\nit recalled a stormy day during the winter of 1864, when a pale\nand emaciated Confederate soldier knocked at our door and asked\nfor shelter. Of course, it was cheerfully granted.\n\nOn questioning him we learned that he had suffered the rigor of\nprison life for two years; had just been released, and was _en\nroute_ to join his regiment before Petersburg. Upon leaving,\nhe thanked me for our hospitality, and begged my acceptance of\nthis little ring, the making of which had served to while away\nthe tedium of captivity. I put it carefully aside, and the lapse\nof time and other more stirring events had almost obliterated the\ncircumstance from my mind, until it was thus revived.\n\nAs I gazed upon it, how many memories were revived by it! In it I\ntraced the life of the donor, and in him the vain hopes and\naspirations of his comrades and the ruin which befell them. I\nheard the call to arms; saw the leave-taking and departure for\nthe field; followed him amid the sanguinary contests of battle;\ntill at length defeat, like a black cloud, lowers over his\ndecimated legions, and he finds himself within a prison's walls.\nThere, chafing against captivity, listening eagerly for tidings\nof release, and sick with hope deferred, I see him beguiling the\nweary hours in fashioning this little trinket. At last the hour\nof liberty arrives, and with bounding pulse, to the tune of\n\"Home, sweet home,\" he turns his back on prison-bars. Once again\nhe is a soldier of the army of Northern Virginia; but gone are\nthe high hopes which animated his breast, and gone are most of\nthe brave comrades who once stood shoulder to shoulder with him;\nhardship, hunger, and death have done their work, and the end is\nnear; a few more suns, and he and his cause fall to rise no more!\n\nSuch is the story that I read in that little hoop of black horn.\nHow many startling events, how many passions of the human heart\ncrowded into a tiny compass!\n\nAnd this, methought, is not the only ring about which might be\nwoven a tale of joy or sorrow. The \"lion-hearted\" king,\nnotwithstanding his pilgrim guise, by means of one was betrayed\nto his relentless Austrian foe; and, centuries later, the gallant\nEssex entrusted his life to such an advocate. Trifling baubles as\nthey are, which may be hid in the hollow of a baby's hand, they\nhave, from their first introduction to the world, acted a\nconspicuous part in its history.\n\n{130}\n\nThe Persians maintain that Guiamschild, fourth king of the first\nrace, introduced the ring. Whether this be true or not, it is\ncertainly of ancient date, since mention is made of it in Genesis\nas being worn by the Hebrews as a signet. It was also in use\namong the Egyptians; for we are told that, after the\ninterpretation of the dream, \"Pharaoh took off his ring from his\nhand, and put it on Joseph's hand,\" as a mark of royal favor. The\nSabines used this ornament during the time of Romulus, and\nperhaps the glittering jewels on the fingers of the women may\nhave enhanced their attractions in the eyes of the bold Roman\nyouths when they so unceremoniously bore them off. But it is not\ncertain at what precise period the Romans adopted rings; for\nthere are no signs of them on their statues prior to those of\nNuma and Servius Tullius. They were commonly made of iron, and\nPliny says that Marius wore his first gold one in his third\nconsulate, the year 650 of Rome. Senators were not allowed to\nwear them of this metal unless distinguished as ambassadors in\nforeign service; but in after days golden rings became the badge\nof knighthood; the people wearing silver, the slaves iron.\n\nIn tracing its history, we can readily imagine that the ring was\ninvented merely as an accompaniment to bracelet and necklace;\nafterward it became a badge of distinction; and finally, when the\nart of engraving and cutting stones was introduced, it attained\nan importance which no other trinket can boast of. Ornamented\nwith initials, armorial crests, or mystic characters, it has been\nused for centuries as a seal for state documents and secret\ndespatches, a sort of _gage de foi_ of their authenticity.\nThere are numerous instances in the sacred writings of its\npeculiar significance when thus employed. For example, when\nAhasuerus, giving ear to the counsels of his favorite, consented\nto exterminate the Jews, it is recorded that \"the king took his\nring from his hand, and gave it unto Haman;\" and, concerning the\nproclamation, \"in the name of King Ahasuerus was it written, and\nsealed with the king's ring.\" We also read elsewhere that the den\ninto which Daniel was thrown was sealed by the king \"with his own\nsignet, and with the signets of his lords, that the purpose might\nnot be changed concerning Daniel.\"\n\nIt is supposed that the Greeks did not know the ring at the time\nof the Trojan war; for Homer does not speak of it, and instead of\nsealing, they secured their letters by means of a silken cord.\nAlthough this people encouraged learning and the fine arts, they\ndo not seem to have possessed that of engraving, which they\nborrowed from the Egyptians, who excelled in this branch to a\nremarkable degree.\n\nThe rage for signets soon became universal, no patrician was\nwithout his ring, and in Rome the engravers were forbidden to\nmake any two seals alike. In such esteem were they held, that it\nis related, when Lucullus visited Alexandria, Ptolemy could find\nno more acceptable present to offer him than an emerald, on which\nwas engraved a portrait of himself. Julius Caesar had on his ring\nthe image of Venus, armed with a dart; and the seal of Pompey was\na lion holding a sword, while that of Scipio Africanus bore the\nportrait of Syphax, the Libyan king whom he had vanquished.\n\nThe manner of wearing the signet differed greatly, the Hebrews\npreferring to ornament the right hand, the Romans the left. The\nGreeks put it on the fourth finger of the left hand, because of\nthe belief that a nerve connected that member with the heart;\nhence the same custom is observed with the wedding-ring.\n\nAfter the advent of Christianity, it assumed a spiritual as well\nas political value, the episcopal ring, as it is called, being\nused as a pledge of spiritual marriage between the bishop and the\nchurch.\n{131}\nThis custom is of ancient date, since there is mention in the\nproceedings of the fourth Council of Toledo, A.D. 633, that a\nbishop condemned for any offence by one council, if found\ninnocent upon a second trial, should have his ring restored. The\npopes also wore seals, and at the present time the revered Father\nof the Catholic Church has two--one which he uses to sign\napostolical briefs and private letters, called the _fisherman's\nring,_ representing St. Peter drawing in his net full of\nfishes; the other, with which he seals his bulls, is ornamented\nwith the heads of St. Paul and St. Peter, with a cross between\nthe two.\n\nThe Hebrew used the wedding-ring, though some writer maintains\nthat it was not a pledge of love, but given in lieu of a piece of\nmoney. It is evident that the Christians adopted the practice in\ntheir marriage rites at an early period, some of the oldest\nliturgies containing the vows with regard to it.\n\nBeing esteemed in a political and religious sense, it is no\nmatter of wonder that Cupid's minions have also, from time\nimmemorial, made the ring a seal of undying constancy, accepting\nits circular form as a type of eternity. Thus, Portia, after\nbestowing her riches upon Bassanio, says:\n\n \"I give them with this ring;\n Which when you part from, lose, or give away,\n Let it presage the ruin of your love,\n And be my vantage to exclaim on you.\"\n\nBut lovers, not content with the emblem of shape, also added\nmottoes, and it became the fashion to engrave verses, names, and\ndates within the ring. Alluding to the custom, Hamlet asks, \"Is\nthis a prologue, or the posy of a ring?\" And in the last act of\n_The Merchant of Venice_, when Portia exclaims:\n\n \"A quarrel, ho, already? What's the matter?\"\n\nGratiano answers:\n\n \"About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring\n That she did give me; whose posy was\n For all the world like cutler's poetry\n Upon a knife--_Love me, and leave me not_.\"\n\nThe wedding-ring of Lady Catharine Grey, sister of Lady Jane\nGrey, consisted of five golden links, and on the four inner ones\nwere these lines of her husband's composition:\n\n \"As circles five by art compact, shewe but one ring in sight,\n So trust uniteth faithfull mindes with knott of secret might;\n Whose force to breake but greedie Death noe wight possesseth power,\n As time and sequels well shall prove. My ringe can say no more.\"\n\nThe famous ring given by Queen Elizabeth to the Earl of Essex is\nsaid to be still extant, and in the possession of Lord John\nThynne, a descendant of Lady Frances Devereux, the earl's\ndaughter. It is of gold, the sides engraved, with a cameo head of\nElizabeth in a sardonyx setting.\n\nBefore ending this paper, I must relate a curious legend, told of\nthe Emperor Charlemagne, prefacing my story by saying, that in\nthose times certain precious stones were thought to possess\npeculiar virtues which had an influence on the wearers or those\naround them. At the court of Charlemagne there lived a woman,\nneither young nor handsome, but who appeared to have a wondrous\nfascination for the monarch. So potent were her charms, that he\nneglected the affairs of his empire, and allowed his sword to\nrust. At last, to the great joy of all, the woman died; but\nCharlemagne mourned grievously, and even when her body was\nprepared for burial, refused to allow it to be carried out of his\nsight.\n{132}\nHowever, there was in the palace a bishop, learned in the arts,\nand acquainted with the superstitions of the time; and one day,\nwhen the king had gone hunting, he resolved to examine the\ncorpse. His search was successful; for under the woman's tongue\nhe found a ring, which he immediately secured. On his return from\nthe chase, the emperor repaired to the room where the body lay;\nbut instead of lingering near it, he ordered it to be interred,\nand seemed to have entirely recovered from the spell that bound\nhim. That night a ball was given at court; and many a fair cheek\nflushed in anticipation of being the choice of Charlemagne in the\ndance; but lo! when the music struck up, the emperor stepped\nforward and requested the bishop to be his partner. The good\npriest, resenting the indignity, escaped from the hall, and\nfeeling assured that the ring in his possession was the cause of\nsuch conduct, threw it into a lake beneath the palace walls.\nThereupon Charlemagne recovered his senses, but ever after was\ndevoted to the spot, and built there the town of Aix. Some old\nchronicler also asserts that, when the monarch was on his\ndeath-bed, he said that it was impossible for him to depart in\npeace from this world until a certain ring was restored to him.\nThe secret of its hiding-place being revealed, the lake was\ndragged and the charm found. Charlemagne received it with many\nsigns of joy, and requested that it might be buried with him.\n\nFor the truth of this legend I do not vouch; but it is averred\nthat, years afterward, when the tomb of the mighty Frank was\nopened, on his breast was found an antique ring.\n\n ----------\n\n In The School-room. [Footnote 25]\n\n [Footnote 25: _In the School-Room; Chapters in the\n Philosophy of Education._ John S. Hart, LL.D., Principal\n of the New Jersey State Normal School. Eldredge & Brother:\n Philadelphia.\n\n _The Scientific Basis of Education_, demonstrated by an\n analysis of the temperaments and of phrenological facts, in a\n series of letters to the Department of Public Instruction in\n the city of New York. By John Hecker. Published by the\n Author, 56 Rutgers Street, New York.]\n\n\nThe author of this volume has evidently spent much time in the\nschool-room, and has not spent it in vain. He writes like a\npractical man, in a clear, vigorous style. As he says in his\npreface, he takes \"a pretty free range over the whole practical\nfield of inquiry among professional teachers, and presents to us\nthoughts suggested in the school-room itself in short, detached\nchapters.\" The work is not a _philosophy_ of education, but\nrather a laudable attempt to contribute something toward it.\n\nIn the first chapter, on \"What is Teaching?\" he brings out\nforcibly the truth that teaching is not simply telling, nor is\ntalking to a class necessarily teaching, as experience shows that\na class may be told a thing twenty times over, and talked to in\nthe most fluent manner, and still make little advancement in\nknowledge.\n\n{133}\n\nThis truth deserves more attention from those engaged in\nteaching. The work of universal education which is required in\nour country is so vast, that necessity has forced many to assume\nthe office of teachers who have very little knowledge of what\nteaching is. \"Teaching,\" as the author well says, \"is causing one\nto know. Now, no one can be made to know a thing but by the act\nof his own powers. His own senses, his own memory, his own powers\nof reason, perception, and judgment must be exercised. The\nfunction of the teacher is to bring about this exercise of the\npupil's faculties.\"\n\nThe second chapter, on \"The Art of Questioning,\" states that a\n\"most important and difficult part\" of the teacher's art is to\nknow how to ask a question, but he gives none of the principles\nthat underlie the art. The earnest reader will say: If so much\ndepends on skilful questioning, why does he not tell us how to do\nit? The little work of J. G. Filch, M.A., on _The Art of\nQuestioning_ appears to us much more philosophical and\nsatisfactory. According to him, questions as employed by teachers\nmay be divided into three classes, according to the purposes\nwhich they may be intended to serve. There is, first, the\n_preliminary_ or _experimental_ question, by which an\ninstructor feels his way, sounds the depths of his pupil's\nknowledge, and prepares him for the reception of what it is\ndesigned to teach.\n\nThere is, secondly, the question employed in _actual\ninstruction_, by means of which the thoughts of the learner\nare exercised, and he is compelled, so to speak, to take a share\nin giving himself the lesson.\n\nThirdly, there is the question of _examination_, by which a\nteacher tests his own work, after he has given a lesson, and\nascertains whether it has been soundly and thoroughly learned. By\nthis method, as an eminent teacher has said, one first questions\nthe knowledge into the minds of the children, and then questions\nit out of them again.\n\nThe following chapters on the order of development of the mental\nfaculties are very good. We think, however, he lays too much\nstress on the necessity of knowledge before memory. The memory,\nbeing strongest and most retentive in youth, should then be\nstored with those germinating formulas which will bear fruit in\nafter life. When the reasoning powers are developed at a later\nperiod, they then have something upon which to act.\n\nThe chapters on \"Loving the Children\" and \"Gaining their\nAffections\" are excellent.\n\nThe high salaries paid in our public schools induce many to\nengage in teaching, merely because it affords them honorable and\nlucrative employment. They have no love for the children, and\nare, therefore, unfit for the work. They have no sympathy for the\nchildren of the poor with bright eyes and tattered garments. It\nis painful to go into the school of such teachers. They seem to\nregard the children as pawns on a chessboard, or as _things_\nwhich they are paid to manage and keep in order. Such teachers\nshould study well the chapters on loving the children for what\nthey are in themselves.\n\nHe then introduces a chapter on \"Phrenology,\" in which he details\nseveral instances where a professor of phrenology, as he says,\nwas misled, and gave an incorrect delineation of character. We\nsuppose he wishes us to conclude, phrenology is therefore a\nhumbug. But such an inference is evidently unwarranted from any\n_data_ he has given.\n{134}\nOne might as well say that several instances of malpractice on\nthe part of physicians prove the science of medicine to be a\nhumbug. There is no doubt that, by phrenology, physiognomy, and\nvarious temperamental peculiarities, a person's general character\nand disposition may be discerned. The wise teacher will study\nthese, that he may intelligently vary his government and teaching\nto suit the various characters of the pupils under his charge.\n\nThe work of Mr. John Hecker on _The Scientific Basis of\nEducation_ shows to how great an extent a knowledge of\nphrenology and of the different temperaments may assist the\nteacher in the instruction and government of children. His work\nis worthy the attention of every teacher.\n\nThe chapters on \"Normal Schools\" and \"Practice Teaching\" are\nimportant. It by no means follows that, because a person knows a\nthing, he is therefore prepared to teach.\n\nThe art of communicating one's knowledge to others is quite a\ndistinct acquirement.\n\nNo one who has compared the results obtained by teachers who have\nbeen trained for the work with those who have not can fail to\nappreciate this. We hope the time will come when all who occupy\nthe position of teachers will be required to attend to this\nmatter, and keep pace with the progress made in the art of\nteaching.\n\nThe chapter on cultivating a habit of attention should be studied\nby every teacher.\n\nThe freaks into which an uncultivated ear may be led for the want\nof attention will be best illustrated by one of the author's\nexamples. A class at the high-school was required to copy a\npassage from dictation. The clause,\n\n \"Every breach of veracity indicates some latent vice,\"\n\nappeared with the following variations:\n\n Every breach of veracity indicates some latent vice.\n Every bridge of rasality indicates some latest vice.\n Every breech of ferocity indicates some latinet vice.\n Every preach of erracity indicates some late device.\n Every branch of vivacity indicates some great advice.\n Every branch of veracity indicates some late advice.\n Every branch of veracity indicates some ladovice.\n Every branch of veracity indicates some ladened vice.\n Every branch of veracity in the next some latent vice.\n Every reach of their ascidity indicates some advice.\n\nEvery one who is called upon to give out \"notices\" or to speak in\npublic knows full well how great a portion of what is said in the\nplainest manner is misapprehended for the want of this habit of\nattention.\n\nThe volume closes with a lengthy \"Argument for Common Schools.\"\nIt would be more properly called an \"apology.\" His first point\nis, \"that without common schools we cannot maintain permanently\nour popular institutions.\" The necessity of universal education\nto secure the permanence of our popular institutions is conceded\nby all. But education, according to the author's own definition,\nis the \"developing in due order and proportion whatever is good\nand desirable in human nature.\" Therefore, not only the\nintellect, but also the moral and religious nature must be\ndeveloped. This the common schools fail to do.\n\nA man is not necessarily a good citizen because he is\nintelligent, without he also possesses moral integrity. According\nto the author's own admission, his education is incomplete. As\nthe public schools fail to give any moral training, they fail to\nmake reliable citizens, and are therefore insufficient to secure\nthe permanence of our democratic form of government.\n\nTo this objection he replies \"that many of the teachers are\nprofessing Christians, and exert a continual Christian\ninfluence.\" But many more are non-professors, and exert an\nanti-christian influence.\n\n{135}\n\nIn visiting schools, we have been able to tell the religious\n_status_ of the teachers in charge by the general tone of\nthe exercises. One presided over by a zealous Methodist resembled\na Methodist Sunday-school or conference meeting. Another, under\nthe care of a \"smart young man,\" delighted in love songs, boating\nsongs, etc., and had the general tone of a young folks'\nglee-club. In another of our most celebrated public schools, one\nof the professors was an atheist, and it was a matter of common\nremark among the boys that Prof. ---- said there was no God.\n\nIn another, one of the teachers was overheard sneering at a child\nbecause she believed in our Lord Jesus Christ, and had a\nreverence for religious things. We admit that the familiar\nintercourse and intimate relations of the teachers with the\nchildren give them a great influence over their plastic minds,\nbut, to our sorrow, we know that it is not always for good. We do\nnot, therefore, consider it a recommendation of a system to say\nthat the moral tone of its teaching depends altogether on the\ncaprice and character of the different teachers it happens to\nemploy.\n\nAgain, he says the law of trial by jury requires that every\ncitizen should be intelligent, as they are thus called to take\npart in the administration of justice. True; but it requires much\nmore that jurymen should possess moral principle. What makes\ncourts of justice so often a mockery, but the want of principle\nand of conscience in those who administer the law? If his estate,\nlife, or reputation depended on the decision of twelve men, would\nhe feel easy if he knew them to be unprincipled, immoral men,\nopen to bribery and corruption, however intelligent they might\nbe? No; the constitution of our government, the popular\ninstitutions of our country, require that here, more than in any\ncountry of the world, the young should receive a sound moral and\nreligious training, which cannot be done where, as here, religion\nis excluded from our common schools.\n\nBut, he says, the children attend the Sunday-school, which\nsupplements the instructions of the weekday-school. True; but\nevery earnest pastor who has any positive creed or doctrine to\nteach his children will tell you that one or two brief meetings\non Sunday are not enough for this purpose. We ourselves are\nforced to the painful conclusion that the Sunday-school system\ndoes not give sufficient control over the children to form in\nthem any earnest Christian character. It is like reserving the\nsalt which should season our food during the week, and taking it\nall in a dose on Sunday.\n\nThe Sunday-school should be diligently used to supply, as far as\nmay be, the lack of religious instruction in the common schools,\nbut that it alone is inadequate to this purpose is shown by the\nconstantly increasing number of our young who follow not the\nfootsteps of their parents in the ways of a Christian life.\n\nThe author then, changing his base, argues that intellectual\neducation alone tends to prevent sensuality and crime, and\nadduces statistics to show that the majority of convicts in our\nprisons are from the uneducated class. But if he attended to\nother statistics recently brought to light by Rev. Dr. Todd, Dr.\nStorer, of Boston, and others, he would discover that sensuality,\n_only more refined_, is permeating American society, and\nthat hidden crime is depopulating some of the fairest portions of\nour land. It is true, perhaps, that those crimes which are taken\ncognizance of by the police courts may be more numerous among the\nuneducated, but it is those secret crimes against God and the\nmoral law that corrupt society and endanger a nation's life.\n\n{136}\n\nIn New England, which the author holds up as the ideal of what\nthe common-school system can produce, physicians testify that\nimmorality and hidden crime prevail to such an extent that the\nnative American stock is literally dying out, the number of\ndeaths far exceeding the number of births. Intellectual culture\n_alone_ will not preserve American society from corruption,\nany more than it did pagan Greece and Rome.\n\nThe author seems to feel the force of this objection, which, as\nhe says, \"is urged with seriousness by men whose purity of motive\nis above question, and whose personal character gives great\nweight to their opinions,\" and admits that \"religious teaching\ndoes not hold that prominent position in the course of study that\nit should hold; but he seems forced, like many of his\nfellow-educators whom we have known, to argue and apologize for\nthe common-school system, because they see no way of securing\nuniversal education and at the same time providing for proper\nreligious training. If they turn, however, to the educational\nsystems of France, Austria, or Prussia, they would find the\nproblem solved. Even in Canada, the British Parliament has\navoided by its provisions those serious errors under which we\nlabor, and which are making our system daily more and more\nunpopular.\n\nBy \"An Act to restore to Roman Catholics in Upper Canada certain\nrights in respect to Separate Schools,\" passed May 5th, 1863,\nthey provided that \"the Roman Catholic separate schools shall be\nentitled to a share in the fund annually granted by the\nlegislature of the province for the support of common-schools,\nand shall be entitled also to a share in all other public grants,\ninvestments, and allotments for common-school purposes now made\nor hereafter to be made by the municipal authorities, according\nto the average number of pupils attending such school as compared\nwith the whole average number of pupils attending schools in the\nsame city, town, village, or township.\" (Cap. 5, sec. 20.)\n\nAnd also that \"the Roman Catholic separate schools (with their\nregisters) shall be subject to such inspection as may be directed\nfrom time to time by the chief superintendent of public\ninstruction.\" (Cap. 5, sec. 26.)\n\nLet our separate schools that have been and may be established,\nin which the children receive a proper religious training,\nreceive their due proportion of the public fund, and by the\ninspection of a board of education be kept up to the highest\nstandard of secular learning, and the grievances under which we\nnow suffer will be removed.\n\n ----------\n\n{137}\n\n From the German\n\n The Holy Grayle.\n\n\n \"'Here on the rushes will I sleep,\n And perchance there may come a vision true,\n Ere day create the world anew.'\n Slowly Sir Launfal's eyes grew dim,\n Slumber fell like a cloud on him,\n And into his soul the vision flew.\"\n\n Lowell.\n\nSir Launcelot Du Lac--without his peer of earthly, sinful\nman--had taken the Quest of the Holy Grayle. One deadly sin\ngnawed at the heart of the flower of chivalry; but a mighty\nsorrow struggled with and subdued his remorse, and a holy hermit\nassoiled him of his sin. With purified and strengthened heart, he\nwon his way to a sight of that wondrous vessel, the object of so\nmany knightly vows. It stood on a table of silver veiled with red\nsamite. A throng of angels stood about it. One held a wax light\nand another the holy cross. A light like that of a thousand\ntorches filled the house. Sir Launcelot heard a voice cry,\n\"Approach not!\" but for very wonder and thankfulness he forgot\nthe command. He pressed toward the Holy Grayle with outstretched\nhands, and cried, \"O most fair and sweet Lord! which art here\nwithin this holy vessel, for thy pity, show me something of that\nI seek.\" A breath, as from a fiery furnace, smote him sorely in\nthe face. He fell to the ground, and lay for the space of four\nand twenty days seemingly dead to the eyes of all the people. But\nin that swoon marvels that no tongue can tell and no heart\nconceive passed before his face. ...\n\nThe history of the wondrous vessel was in a measure made known to\nhim. His purified eyes saw in the dim past a long line of\npatriarchs and prophets, who had been entrusted with this sacred\ncharge almost from the beginning of time. The San Greal was\nrevealed to his ardent gaze:\n\nFirst: in the hands of white-robed men, who met Noah as he went\nin, and his sons, and his wife, and his sons' wives, with him\ninto the ark, bearing with him the bones of Adam--great\nProgenitor. Its origin and history were revealed to Noah, and\nthat it was destined to be used in the most mysterious of rites.\n\nNext: Abraham was standing before an altar on a hillock in the\nvalley of Jehoshaphat. His flocks were grazing around or drinking\nfrom the brook Cedron: his camels and beasts of burden and armed\nservants in the distance. The patriarch, flushed with victory,\nstood as if in awe and expectation. Majestic, white-winged\nMelchizedek came from Salem. His tall, slender frame was full of\ntempered majesty. He wore a garment of dazzling whiteness,\nconfined by a girdle on which were embroidered characters of\nmystic import. His long hair was fair and glossy as silk; his\nbeard white, short, and pointed. His face shone with divine\nsplendor. A holy calm seemed diffused in the air around him. He\nbore in his hands the holy vessel handed down from Noah. He\nplaced it upon the altar, behind which rose three clouds of\nsmoke; the one in the midst rose higher than the other two. On\nthe altar lay the bones of Adam--long after buried beneath the\ngreat altar of Calvary--and both prayed God to fulfil the promise\nhe had made to Adam of one day sending the great Deliverer who\nwould bruise the serpent's head.\n{138}\nThe priest of the most high God then took bread and wine--\nemblems of the great Eucharistic Sacrifice--raised them toward\nheaven, and blessed them, and gave thereof to Abraham and his\nservants, but tasted not thereof himself. They who ate of this\nbread and drank of this wine seemed strengthened and devoutly\ninspired thereby. And Melchizedek blessed Abraham, and said:\n\"Blessed be Abram by the most high God, who created heaven and\nearth.\" And he renewed to him the promise that in him should all\nthe families of the earth be blessed.\n\nThe San Greal seemed, in the vision, left with Abraham as a\npledge of that promise, and afterward, was carried down into\nEgypt by the children of Israel. Moses took it with him when he\nfled to the land of Midian, and was using it for some mysterious\noblation on Mount Horeb, when the Lord appeared to him in a flame\nof fire out of the burning bush.\n\nSir Launcelot saw the vessel long after in the temple of\nJerusalem among other precious objects of antiquity; its use and\norigin nearly forgotten. Only a few remembered its strange\nhistory, and _felt_, rather than knew, that it yet awaited\nits most glorious use. Its holy guardians had always watched over\nits safety with jealous care, until the abomination of desolation\nentered the holy place. But a divine Eye seemed to watch over it.\nAt the institution of the Mass, it was in the possession of a\nholy woman, since known as Veronica--her who took off her veil\nto wipe the dust and sweat and blood from the divine face of\nsuffering Jesus, which was left thereon so miraculously\nimprinted. Veronica brought the vessel to the disciples of Jesus\nto be used at the Last Supper.\n\nThe Holy Grayle revealed to the astonished eyes of Sir Launcelot\nwas composed of two parts, the cup and the foot. The cup alone\nhad been handed down from the time of the holy patriarchs. Its\nvery form was wonderful and significant, and its composition\nmysterious. Jesus alone knew what it was. It was dark, compact,\nand perhaps of vegetable origin. It was covered and lined with\ngold, and on it were two handles.\n\nThe foot of the chalice, added at a later period, was of virgin\ngold, wrought with the skill of a cunning workman. It was\nornamented with a serpent and a bunch of grapes, and gleamed with\nprecious stones.\n\nThe whole chalice rested on a silver tablet, surrounded by six\nsmaller ones. These six cups had belonged to different\npatriarchs, who drank therefrom a strange liquor on certain\nsolemn occasions. They were used by the holy apostles at the Last\nSupper, each cup serving for two persons. (These cups Sir\nLauncelot saw belonging afterward to different Christian\nchurches, where they were held in great reverence.) The Holy\nGrayle stood before our blessed Lord. ... Let not sinful hand\ndepict the vision of that unbloody sacrifice, so clearly revealed\nto the adoring eyes of Sir Launcelot, and so affectingly told in\nHoly Writ. ...\n\nThe San Greal, fashioned with mysterious care for the most\nmysterious of oblations, and handed down from remote antiquity by\nrighteous men, to whom it was the pledge of a solemn covenant,\nwas henceforth to be the object of the veneration of the\nChristian world. Only the pure in heart could guard it. Angels\nwith loving reverence folded their wings around what contained\nmost precious Blood. Its presence conferred a benediction on the\nland in which it was preserved.\n\n{139}\n\nSir Launcelot saw afterward the hand that came from heaven right\nto the holy grayle and bare it away. But a comforting voice told\nhim that it should reappear on the earth, though for him the\nquest was ended.\n\nAt the end of four and twenty days, Sir Launcelot awoke. The\nvision had passed away, but the place was filled with the\nsweetest odors, as if of Paradise. Wondering thereat, he cried:\n\"I thank God of his infinite mercy for that I have seen, for it\ncomforteth me.\" And he rose up and went to Camelot, where he\nfound King Arthur and many of the Knights of the Round Table, to\nwhom he related all that had befallen him.\n\n ----------\n\n New Publications.\n\n Lives Of The English Cardinals;\n Including Historical Notices\n Of The Papal Court, From Nicholas\n Breakspear (Pope Adrian Iv.)\n To Thomas Wolsey, Cardinal Legate.\n By Folkestone Williams, author of, etc., etc.\n Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.\n 1868. 2 vols. 8vo, pp. 484, 543.\n\nWonders will never cease. A few years since, the present pope,\nwilling to do honor to a great nation, conferred on one of its\nsubjects the highest dignity in his gift. The new cardinal was a\nman honored alike in England and America for his learning and\nability, as well as for his never departing from the strict line\nof his priestly and episcopal functions. One would have supposed\nthat the English government and people would have felt flattered,\nand that the English sovereign, who is queen not only of certain\nProtestant Englishmen, but of a mass of Catholic subjects who\ncannot number much less than twenty millions, would, while\nthanking his holiness, have hinted that her twenty millions\nshould have more than one representative in the Sacred College.\nInstead of this sensible course, a period of insanity\nensued--England frothed, England foamed, England grew rabid.\n\nTo judge by this book, England is actually becoming sane. The\nauthor seems to feel that England is slighted because she has no\ncardinal. \"There has recently been a creation of cardinals, and,\nthough some disappointment may have been caused by the omission\nof an eminent English name from those so honored, the\nextraordinary claims of one of the most active of Roman Catholic\nprelates are not likely to be overlooked by so discriminating a\npontiff as Pio Nono.\"\n\nMr. Williams here, in two goodly octavos, gives the lives of the\nEnglish cardinals, from Robert le Poule to Wolsey, as he\nconceives it; and a rapid examination of the whole, and careful\nscrutiny of portions, leads us to the judgment that seldom has a\nwork been attempted by a man so utterly unfitted for the task. As\nthough his proper task did not afford him a field sufficiently\nlarge, he gives an introduction of eighty pages on the Papacy,\nthe Anglo-Saxon Church, and the Anglo-Norman Church. The whole\nhistory of the church down to the Reformation is thus treated of,\nand to the mighty undertaking he brings only the usual\nsuperficial reading of our time, with a more than ordinary amount\nof religious flippancy, and false and prejudiced views of\nCatholic dogma, practice, polity, and life. There is not a silly\nslander against the church that he does not adopt and give, with\nall the gravity imaginable, as undisputed fact, not even deigning\nto quote vaguely any of his second-hand authorities or modern\ntreatises, while, to make a parade of his learning, he gives us a\nfour-line note in Greek to support his opinion as to a\ntopographical question as immaterial to the history of the\nEnglish cardinals as a discussion on the Zulu language would be.\nAs instances of his utter unfitness, we might refer to his\ntreatment of such points as St. Gregory VII., Pope Joan, and the\ninstitution of the Feast of the Immaculate Conception.\n\n{140}\n\nWhat his own religious stand-point may be is not easily decided.\nHe lays down (p. 146) that Christ's divinity is his humanity;\nthat the idea of the Good Shepherd, put forward by our Lord and\never deemed so typical of him, was of pagan origin, (p. 8,) and,\nfrom the note on the same page, that the church, as founded by\nChrist, was a grand failure. He maintains, too, that the\nChristianity, as introduced into England, was and is only the old\npaganism, the names of the days of the week settling the\nquestion, (p. 24.) On one point only he seems clear and positive,\nand this is, that on general principles popes must always be\nwrong, and that to deny anything they lay down must be\npre-eminently right.\n\nAs a specimen of his style, take the following: \"The Good\nShepherd was the recognized emblem of the divine Founder of their\nreligion, but as the community enlarged it required a human\ndirector.\" We are left in doubt whether this community of\nprimitive Christians required this human director as a new\nemblem, or a new founder, or a new religion. He proceeds: \"He who\nby his superior sanctity gained authority as well as admiration\nwas invested with that character. His flock became a church, and\nhe undertook its spiritual management in the capacity of\npresbyter.\" This is a very pretty fable, but he fails to give us\nany authority. An expression of our Lord shows that church\nauthority began at the other end: \"_Non vos me elegistis; sed\nego elegi vos, et posui vos ut eatis,_\" \"You did not elect me,\n(your God and Redeemer,) but I picked you out and set you up to\ngo and teach.\" And they did go and did teach, and such as\nlistened to their teaching and became their disciples became\nChristians with human directors from the outset.\n\nDuring the period covered properly by these volumes, from the\nbeginning of the twelfth to that of the fifteenth centuries,\nEngland had comparatively few cardinals; English kings seemed to\nhave cared little to exercise any influence on papal councils,\nand never sought to obtain for an English prince an honor given\nto members of many reigning families. The English cardinals whose\nnames at once suggest themselves are Cardinal Nicholas\nBreakspear, (subsequently Pope Adrian IV.,) Cardinal Stephen\nLangton, Cardinal Beaufort, and Cardinal Wolsey. Of all except\nthe first, the general idea in men's minds is drawn less from\nhistory than from Shakespeare. Of these especially, really\nwell-written lives, with sketches of the less known and less\nimportant English cardinals, would indeed be a valuable addition;\nbut such Mr. Williams's book certainly is not.\n\nIn beginning his life of Adrian IV., he quotes Matthew of Paris,\nwho makes him son of Robert de Camera, said by William of\nNewburgh to have been a poor scholar; then cites Camden's\nstatement that he was born at Langley, near St. Alban's; but he\nslips in a charge, hunted up in the filth of the wretched Bale,\nthat he was illegitimate; as though the assertion of such a man,\nin the most virulent stage of the Reformation abuse, could be\nauthority as to a fact of a period so long past. Even Fuller, as\nhe admits, with all his readiness to belittle the papacy, only\n\"insinuates that he was an illegitimate son.\" Yet Mr. Williams,\non the assertion of a Bale and the insinuation of a Fuller, says,\n\"There is reason to believe that he was the natural son of a\n_priest_,\" and on this supposition he proceeds to erect his\nwhole superstructure.\n\nFrom such a writer no book can emanate that any man can read who\ndoes not wilfully wish to be misled.\n\n -----\n{141}\n\n Goethe And Schiller.\n An Historical Romance.\n By L. M\u00fchlbach, author of \"Joseph II. and his Court,\"\n \"Frederick the Great and his Court,\"\n \"The Empress Josephine,\"\n \"Andreas Hofer,\" etc., etc.\n Translated from the German by Chapman Coleman.\n Illustrated by Gaston Fay.\n New York: D. Appleton & Co. Pp. 283. 1868.\n\nA careful perusal of this, the author's latest production, has\nnot caused us to modify, in the slightest degree, the opinion\nheretofore expressed in these pages concerning the volumes\ncomprising what is now known as the M\u00fchlbach series of historical\nromances. That they are ably written we admitted then, and we are\nnot now disposed to deny. But this, their only merit, in our\njudgment, can be claimed equally as well for many literary works\nwhich no prudent father, no careful mother, would dream of\nkeeping within reach of, much less of placing in the hands of,\ntheir guileless offspring. Illicit love, in some instances\ncovered by a thin veil of Platonism, the intrigues of courtiers,\nduplicity and meanness, are the pivotal points on which the\nincidents principally turn. For these and similar offences\nagainst morality, the author has no word of censure, while as for\nthe _dramatis personae_, their _virtuous_ indignation,\nwhen given utterance to, is always directed against the criminal\nand not the crime. In fine, we look upon these as books by which\nnot a single person can become better or more enlightened, while\nvery many will rise from their perusal worse than before.\n\n -----\n\n Father Cleveland; Or, The Jesuit.\n By the authoress of \"Life in the Cloister,\"\n \"Grace O'Halloran,\" \"The Two Marys,\" etc., etc.\n Boston: P. Donahoe. Pp. 178. 1868.\n\nAn affecting tale, founded on fact. The main incident, the\nheroine withering beneath the breath of calumny and finally dying\nof a broken heart, truly depicts the fatal consequences too often\nresulting from the sin of slander. The scene is laid in England,\nIreland, and the New World. The incidents being principally\ndescriptive of the fallen fortunes of the Desmonds, the sad\nreverses of Squire Cleveland, and the untimely fate of the\namiable heroine, give a rather sombre tone to the narrative,\nwhich is somewhat relieved, however, by the filial affection of\nAileen Desmond, the quaint humor of Pat Magrath, and the\nunaffected piety and zealous ministrations of Father Cleveland,\nthe good Jesuit.\n\n -----\n\n Outlines Of Ancient And Modern History.\n Illustrated by numerous Geographical and\n Historical Notes and Maps.\n Embracing: Part I. Ancient History.\n Part II. Modern History.\n By Marcius Willson.\n School Edition.\n Published by Ivison, Phinney & Co., New-York.\n\nMessrs. Ivison, Phinney & Co. are among the most extensive\npublishers of school books in the United States. They are the\npublishers of Sanders's series of Union Readers, Robinson's\nArithmetics and Mathematical Works, Kerl's Grammars, and many\nother school publications. All of these are largely used in our\nCatholic institutions, and extensively used in the public schools\nall over the country. At present we will confine our remarks to\nthe _Outlines of Ancient and Modern History_ at the head of\nthis notice. We are fully satisfied that any candid, intelligent,\nfair-minded reader of this misnamed history, after the most\ncursory examination, would pronounce its introduction into the\nschools of the country as highly calculated to mislead such as\nshould rely on its statements, and corrupt such as should adopt\nits principles. In note I, p. 332, he tells us that the\n\"Albigenses is a name given to several heretical sects in the\nSouth of France, who agreed in opposing the dominion of the Roman\nhierarchy, and in endeavoring to restore the simplicity of\nancient Christianity,\" and that \"the creed of the unfortunates\nhad been extinguished in blood.\" The Protestant historian,\nMosheim, speaking of these \"unfortunates,\" says that \"their\nshocking violation of decency was a consequence of their\npernicious system.\n{142}\nThey looked upon decency and modesty as marks of inward\ncorruption. Certain enthusiasts among them maintained that the\nbeliever could not sin, let his conduct be ever so horrible and\natrocious.\" (Murdock's Mosheim, note, vol. ii. b. iii. p. 256.\n[Footnote 26])\n\n [Footnote 26: This note was omitted in the English\n translation.]\n\nBut our object is not to refute or expose its inconsistencies,\ncontradictions, misrepresentations, falsehoods, and calumnies, as\nthe book, left to itself, is far below our notice. But the case\nis different when Messrs. Ivison, Phinney & Co. set their\nmachinery in motion for introducing this SCHOOL-BOOK into all the\nschools in the country, send their agents from school to school\nsoliciting their introduction, and advertise in school\npublications throughout the country that \"this _History_ has\nan extensive circulation, has received the highest\nrecommendations from hundreds of presidents and professors of\ncolleges, principals of academies, seminaries, and high-schools.\"\nIt is these powerful and, we are sorry to say, successful efforts\nthat have caused us to take any notice whatever of this\ndemoralizing book; for left to itself it would be of very little\nconsequence. In the same page from which we have already quoted,\np. 332, the author assents that \"the avarice of Pope Leo X. was\nequal to the credulity of the Germans; and billets of salvation,\nor indulgences professing to remit the punishments due to sins,\neven before the commission of the contemplated crime, were sold\nby thousands among the German peasantry.\" And then he goes on to\ntell us that Luther bitterly inveighed against the traffic in\nindulgences, and that he was a man of high reputation for\nsanctity and learning. Here the author is so anxious to falsify\nthe Catholic doctrine of indulgence, and to blacken the character\nof Leo X., that he goes so far as to slander and misrepresent\neven his idol, Martin Luther. For Luther did not inveigh against\nthe pope for the sale of indulgences, or ever say that an\nindulgence was a pardon for sin past, present, or to come. It was\nleft for his followers to coin this falsehood, and it is a\nslander on Luther to accuse him of the fabrication. He has enough\nto account for without charging him with what he is not guilty\nof; and he knew and taught while a Catholic priest that an\nindulgence does not pardon sin, and that a person in mortal sin\ncannot gain an indulgence. We may return to Willson's\n_Histories_ again, for he has written others besides the one\nreferred to, and all in the same strain; but we trust we have\nsaid enough to draw the attention of our readers to the character\nof the work, and we hope that neither the solicitations of\nagents, nor the high-sounding recommendations of interested\nparties in its favor, will prevent them from opposing its\nintroduction into our schools, public and private, and preventing\nits introduction whenever they can. Count de Maistre has\ntestified that history, for the last three hundred years, is a\ngrand conspiracy against truth; and although the Willsons and\ntheir tribe are still numerous, active, and powerful, the\nprogress of the age warns them that they cannot delude the\npublic.\n\n -----\n\n 1. The Complete Poetical Works Of Robert Burns,\n with Explanatory Notes, and a life of the author.\n By James Currie, M.D.\n\n 2. The Poetical Works Of John Milton.\n To which is prefixed a Biography of\n the author, by his nephew, Edward Phillips.\n\n 3. The Monastery And Heart Of Mid-Lothian.\n By Sir Walter Scott, Bart. Paper.\n\n 4. Mr. Midshipman Easy.\n By Captain Marryatt. Paper.\n\n 5. The Life And Adventures Of Nicholas Nickleby,\n Martin Chuzzlewit And American Notes.\n By Charles Dickens.\n New York: D. Appleton & Co. 1868.\n\nWe give above the titles of six different works, by well-known\nauthors, new editions of whose writings are now being reprinted,\nin a cheap and popular form, by the Messrs. Appleton. As long as\nthe majority of people will read little else than fiction, we are\nglad to see the Messrs. Appleton give them such works as Walter\nScott's and Charles Dickens's, for the trifle of twenty-five\ncents a volume. They are certainly remarkably cheap, and if this\nwill have the effect, even in a slight degree, to make the youth\nof the country turn from the sickly trash of newspaper stories,\nand read these instead, the Messrs. Appleton will have done good\nfor the rising generation. If we are to have cheap literature\nspread broadcast over the land, it is better to have such works\nas those of Scott, Dickens, etc., than the dime novel and the\nweekly-paper stuff now so widely prevalent.\n\n -----\n\n{143}\n\n Modern Women And What Is Said Of Them.\n A reprint of a series of articles in the Saturday Review.\n With an introduction by Mrs. Lucia Gilbert Calhoun.\n New York: J. S. Redfield. Pp. 371. 1868.\n\nThis volume contains thirty-seven articles on modern woman in her\nvarious phases. That they are, in a certain sense, ably written,\nit is needless to assert; and as the majority of them have been\nextensively copied on this side of the Atlantic, it may be\nequally unnecessary to state that, as regards the subject under\ndiscussion, they are generally denunciatory. Hence we are at a\nloss to understand what could induce one of the sex attacked to\ntake upon herself the ungracious task of a compiler, even with\nthe opportunity of self-vindication afforded by the introduction.\nPerhaps, however, this advocate of woman's rights acts on the\nprinciple that even kicks and cuffs are better than being\nentirely ignored.\n\n-----\n\n Alton Park; Or, Conversations On Religious And Moral Subjects.\n Chiefly designed for the amusement\n and instruction of young ladies.\n New edition. Philadelphia: Eugene Cummiskey. Pp. 408.\n\n_Alton Park_ is so well and favorably known to Catholics,\nthat praise at our hands and at this late day is supererogatory.\nWe must, however, compliment the publisher for the very handsome\nstyle in which he has brought out this volume.\n\n-----\n\n A Pysche Of To-day.\n By Mrs. C. Jenkin, author of \"Who breaks pays,\"\n \"Skirmishing,\" \"Once and Again,\" \"Cousin Stella.\"\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt. Pp. 280. 1868.\n\nThis tale represents to us certain aspects of Parisian life,\nwhich are interesting, not as always exciting pleasurable\nemotions, but as being evidently drawn from life. The story is\ntold in a pleasing, unaffected manner, and the main incidents are\nonly too probable.\n\n -----\n\n Logic For Young Ladies.\n Translated from the French of Victor Doublet,\n Professor of Belles-Lettres.\n New York: P. O'Shea. Pp. 148. 1868.\n\nAn excellent text-book; clear, simple, comprehensive. We would\nsuggest, however, in order that its sphere of usefulness may not\nbe even apparently circumscribed, that the title for the next\nedition read, not \"Logic for Young Ladies,\" but \"Logic for the\nYoung.\"\n\n -----\n\n Academic Edition. A Dictionary Of The English Language,\n explanatory, pronouncing, etymological and synonymous. With an\n appendix, containing various useful tables. Mainly abridged\n from the latest edition of the quarto dictionary of Noah\n Webster, LL.D.\n By William G. Webster and William A. Wheeler.\n Illustrated with more than three hundred\n and fifty engravings on wood.\n Pp. xxxii. 560. 1868.\n\n A High-school Dictionary Of The English Language, explanatory,\n pronouncing, and synonymous. With an appendix containing\n various useful tables. Mainly abridged from the latest edition\n of the quarto dictionary of Noah Webster, LL.D. By William G.\n Webster and William A. Wheeler. Illustrated with more than\n three hundred engravings on wood.\n Pp. xxiv. 415. 1868.\n\n{144}\n\n A Common-school Dictionary Of The English Language,\n explanatory, pronouncing, and synonymous.\n With an appendix containing various useful tables.\n Mainly abridged from the latest edition of the American\n dictionary of Noah Webster, LL.D., by William G. Webster\n and William A. Wheeler.\n Illustrated with nearly 250 engravings on wood.\n Pp. xix. 400. 1868.\n\n A Primary-school Dictionary Of The English Language,\n explanatory, pronouncing, and synonymous.\n With an appendix containing various useful tables.\n Mainly abridged from the latest edition of the\n American dictionary of Noah Webster, LL.D., by\n William G. Webster and William A. Wheeler.\n Illustrated with more than 200 engravings on wood.\n Pp. xii. 352. 1868.\n\n A Pocket Dictionary Of The English Language;\n abridged from the American dictionary of Noah Webster, LL.D.\n Prefixed is a collection of words, phrases, mottoes, etc., in\n Latin and French, with translations in English.\n William G. Webster, editor.\n Pp. iv. 249. 1868.\n\n The Army And Navy Pocket Dictionary.\n By William G. Webster.\n Pp. iv. 319. 1868.\n\nThe peculiar claims of these books to professional and popular\npatronage are so fully set forth in the titles prefixed, that it\nonly remains for us to say that we heartily recommend them to\nteachers and others, as among the best dictionaries of their\nclass now before the public. They are published by Ivison,\nPhinney, Blakeman & Co., New York.\n\n -----\n\nThe \"Catholic Publication Society\" has in press\n\n _The Holy Communion:\n its Philosophy, Theology, and Practice_.\n By John Bernard Dalgairns, Priest\n of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri.\n\n A new edition of the _Illustrated History of Ireland_, by\n a member of the Poor Clares, Kenmare, Ireland, and sold for the\n benefit of that community. This edition will have additional\n engravings, and over 100 pages more matter than the first\n edition. It will also contain a chapter on the Irish in\n America. The work will be ready about October 15th. Canvassers\n are wanted to sell it in the country.\n\n -----\n\n Books Received.\n\nFrom THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY, New York:\n\n Symbolism.\n By John Adam Moehler, D.D.\n 1 vol. crown 8vo, pp. 504. Price, $4.\n\n The Illustrated Catholic Sunday-School Library\n Second series. 12 vols. in box, $6 per box.\n\nFrom PATRICK DONAHOE, Boston:\n\n The works of Rev. Arthur O'Leary, O.S.F.\n Edited by a Clergyman of Massachusetts,\n 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 596. Price, $2.\n\n --------------------\n\n{145}\n\n The Catholic World\n\n Vol. VIII., No. 44--November, 1868.\n\n ----------\n\n The Church of The Future.\n\n\nThe phrase which forms the title to this article does not\noriginate with us. We find it floating in the columns of various\nrecent periodicals. Our attention is especially directed to it,\nas the expression of a definite idea, in a late number of the\n_Galaxy_, and by an editorial in the _Churchman_ for\nthe 25th of July of the present year. From these we gather that,\nin the opinion of certain modern prophets, some one of the\nexisting Protestant denominations is destined to achieve\npre-eminence over all the rest, and, gathering into its single\nfold the population of America, become the \"Church of the Future\"\nin our land.\n\nThe author of the article in the _Galaxy_ writes in the\ninterest of Methodism. In its past successes and its present\ncharacteristics he beholds an omen of its ultimate supremacy over\nall other Christian bodies, if not over infidelity and\nrationalism itself. The _Churchman_, on the contrary, claims\nthe laurels of this future victory for Protestant\nEpiscopalianism--predicting that, through its inconsistency with\nrepublican institutions, the influence of the Catholic Church\nmust eventually be destroyed; that Presbyterianism, being a\ngrowth of but three hundred years, and never yet attaining, or\nlikely to attain to, the _semper, et ubique, et ab omnibus_\nof mature and stalwart age, must soon decay; that Methodism,\nhaving lost its pure vitality when it departed from the sacred\nunity of \"_Mother Church_\" can never meet the needs of\ncoming generations; he thence concludes, that the diminutive\nsociety once called the \"_Protestant Episcopal_\" but now\nrejoicing in the title of the \"_Reformed Catholic_\" Church,\nis to absorb into its bosom the teeming millions of this country,\nand become the guide and teacher of the Western continent.\n\n{146}\n\nThe expections of these dreamers are well calculated to provoke a\nsmile. While the great fact remains uncontradicted that the\nunited strength of Protestant Christendom has failed to check the\nspread of irreligion in the bosom of modern society, while nearly\nevery one of its denominations is struggling to maintain its\npresent spiritual powers, it seems a time for humiliation rather\nthan for boasting, for prayer and labor rather than for triumph.\nFar be it from us to discourage Christian hope, or snatch away\nfrom Christian zeal the vision of those future glories to which\nit should aspire. But the impression is strong upon our mind that\nsuch \"_castles in the air_\" as those to which we have\nreferred, imply worse than time wasted in their building, and\nmanifest an increase of that indolent consciousness of strength\nwhich, in communities as well as individuals, is the forerunner\nof a swift decay.\n\nWith this remark, we leave the thoughts suggested by the advocate\nof Methodism, and pass on to discuss the question raised by the\nassumptions of the _Churchman_, namely:\n\nWhether the Protestant Episcopal Church is destined to attain\npre-eminence over the other sects of Christendom in this country,\nand become the church of the future people of America?\n\nThis question is susceptible both of a divine and human answer.\nIt may be said that the Protestant Episcopal Church is the true\nChurch of God, and therefore that its ultimate supremacy, not\nonly here but everywhere, is certain. It may be also said that,\nas its internal structure and external operations are such as\nwill adapt it to control and harmonize the elements of which\nAmerican society is now and will hereafter be composed, so is it\nlikely to attain the relative position which its advocates with\nso much assurance claim, and to wear the crown which already\nglitters in their dazzled eyes. Together these two answers stand\nor fall; for, if the Protestant Episcopal Church be the true\nchurch of God, then must it, _ex necessitate rei_, be\nadapted to control and harmonize, not only the society of this\nage and country, but the societies of every other age and clime;\nand, _vice versa_, if it be adapted to control and unify the\nfaith, and, through the faith, the acts and lives of men, then\nmust it also, _ex necessitate rei_, be the church of God.\n\nThe writer of the _Churchman_ appears to us to have chosen\nthe former method of reply. He says:\n\n \"Our own church is to be the church of the future in our\n country. It is a church of apostolic constitution and\n derivation, with a pure, uncorrupted faith, with a duly\n authorized ministry, with the word and sacraments of the\n gospel, and, with and through these, the dispensation of the\n supernatural grace of God, without which everything else would\n be but ineffectual words and forms. Whatever may be alleged of\n others, it cannot be denied that all this is true of our\n church. We do not find it to be true, in all particulars, of\n any church in the land but ours.\"\n\nThe two syllogisms of which this allegation forms a part, seem to\nbe logically complete as follows:\n\n(1.) The true church of God will be the church of the future in\nour country.\n\nThe church, which is alone of apostolic constitution and\nderivation, with a pure and uncorrupted faith, a duly authorized\nministry, the word and sacraments of the gospel, and, with and\nthrough these, the dispensation of the supernatural grace of God,\nis the true church of God.\n\n_Ergo_, The church, which is alone of apostolic constitution\nand derivation, with a pure and uncorrupted faith, a duly\nauthorized ministry, the word and sacraments of the gospel, and,\nwith and through these, the dispensation of the supernatural\ngrace of God, will be the church of the future in our country.\n\n{147}\n\n(2.) The church, which is alone of apostolic constitution and\nderivation, with a pure and uncorrupted faith, a duly authorized\nministry, the word and sacraments of the gospel, and, with and\nthrough these, the dispensation of the supernatural grace of God,\nwill be the church of the future in our country.\n\nThe Protestant Episcopal Church is alone of apostolic\nconstitution and derivation, with a pure and uncorrupted faith, a\nduly authorized ministry, the word and sacraments of the gospel,\nand, with and through these, the dispensation of the supernatural\ngrace of God.\n\n_Ergo_, The Protestant Episcopal Church will be the church\nof the future in our country.\n\nWith both the premises and the conclusion of the former syllogism\nwe presume that nearly every Christian, Catholic or Protestant,\nwill heartily agree. But we believe the conclusion of the second\nto be erroneous, and its fallacy we find in what we conceive to\nbe the utter falsehood of its minor premiss, as a simple matter\nof fact. We know that the writer says: \"Whatever may be alleged\nof others, it cannot be denied that all this is true of our\nchurch.\" But, whether it can or cannot, it most certainly\n_is_ denied. We here deny it. We deny the apostolic\nconstitution and derivation of the Protestant Episcopal Church.\nWe deny that she holds a pure, uncorrupted faith. We deny that\nshe has a duly authorized ministry. We deny that she possesses\nthe word and sacraments of the gospel. We deny that through that\nministry, that faith, that word, those sacraments, [Footnote 27]\nshe retains the dispensation of the supernatural grace of God.\nAnd, in support of our denial, we point to Holy Scripture, to the\nunanimous tradition of the fathers, to the vast treasures of\nhistorical and theological learning which have accumulated in the\npast eighteen hundred years, and to the united voice of the holy\nCatholic Church throughout the entire world.\n\n [Footnote 27: Except baptism.]\n\nNor only we. In our own country these bold assertions, and the\nextravagant pretensions which are based upon them, are also\nconstantly denied. Two million Methodists deny them. One million\nsix hundred and ninety thousand Baptists deny them. Seven hundred\nthousand Presbyterians deny them. Six hundred thousand\nUniversalists deny them. Three hundred and twenty-three thousand\neight hundred Lutherans deny them. Two hundred and sixty-seven\nthousand four hundred Congregationalists deny them. Of the one\nhundred and sixty-one thousand two hundred Episcopalians, how\nmany dare maintain them? How many are at open warfare with that\nparty, within their communion, from whom these rash and\ngroundless allegations come? Among the extremest of \"_Reformed\nCatholics_\" how many actually believe that the ecclesiastical\norganization to which they protestingly belong, is, in truth,\nthat glorious fabric which our Lord built upon the Rock, St.\nPeter, and to which he communicated the infallibility of his\nperpetual presence? Even the subtle _Churchman_ will hardly\nventure to affirm distinctly his belief of such an extravagant\nproposition, but will most likely take refuge in the declaration\nthat his is a reformed _branch_ of the Catholic Church, a\ndeclaration that destroys the value of his whole argument, unless\nhe also demonstrates the impossibility, to other branches, of the\nreformation which has sprung from within his own.\n\n{148}\n\nTo argue that the Episcopal Church alone possesses those\ncharacteristics which indicate the true church of God, and that,\nas such, she must eventually predominate over all the rest, is\nthus as useless as it is unwise. It opens up a series of disputes\nwhich no generation would be long enough to exhaust, and no\nacknowledged authority be sufficient to determine. It creates in\nadvance an adversary in every Christian outside her exclusive\npale, and puts him on his guard against the courtesy and\nsolicitude with which she seeks to win his personal devotion. It\nthrusts into the face of the inquirer a proposition whose\nabsurdity annoys him, whose positiveness discourages him, whose\narrogance repels him. If our Episcopal brethren wish to realize\nthe dreams of their modern seer, they must abandon this species\nof argument and betake themselves to the adaptation of their\nchurch to meet, more fully, the wants and necessities which\nsurround them upon every side.\n\nIn their ability or inability to do this resides the human answer\nto the question whose discussion we pursue.\n\nThe syllogism in which this answer is embodied may be thus\nconstructed:\n\nThe church which is best adapted, by internal structure and\nexternal operations, to control and harmonize American society,\nwill be the church of the future in our country.\n\nThe Protestant Episcopal Church is best adapted, by internal\nstructure and external operations, to control and harmonize\nAmerican society.\n\n_Ergo_, the Protestant Episcopal Church will be the church\nof the future in our country.\n\nThe major premise of this syllogism is evidently sound. If the\nminor is reliable in fact as well as form, the conclusion is\nunmistakable. Our inquiry is thus reduced to this:\n\nWhether the Protestant Episcopal Church is best adapted, by its\ninternal structure and external operations, to control and\nharmonize American society?\n\nThe answer to this inquiry will unfold our own view of the matter\nnow in issue, and will, we trust, set forth some of the principal\n_criteria_ by which the church of the future may, at this\nday, be humanly discerned.\n\n1. The \"church of the future\" is a \"church of the people.\"\n\nThe American nation is now, and always must remain, in the\nstrictest sense, \"_a people./i>\" The order of our political and\ncivil institutions, the vast area of our territory and the\nunlimited susceptibility of its development, the achievements of\nart and mechanism by which alone that development can be secured,\nall necessitate, in the future, as in the present, a nation of\nworking-men, homogeneous in principles, in intelligence, and in\ntoil. Classes of society, except so far as based upon the\naccidents of personal friendship, cultivation, or locality, are\npractically now, and must hereafter become more and more,\nunknown. The distinctions by which its divisions in the Old World\nwere created and maintained, lost the last hold upon America when\nslavery went down in the fierce tempest of the recent war. The\nproud prerogatives of race and birth are henceforth without\nvalue. Every man must receive himself from the hands of his\nCreator just as that Creator made him, and carve out for himself\na destiny, limited only by his individual ambition, and by his\nfidelity to the end for which his life and independence were\nbestowed upon him.\n\nUnfavorable as such a state of things may be for the extreme\ncultivation of the few, that the great masses gain immeasurably\nby it, is undeniable. A race of farmers, of mechanics, of\ntradesmen, of laborers, can never be illiterate, immoral, or\nimpoverished.\n{149}\nA race whose future embraces the population and political\ndirection of a continent, into whose veins the choicest blood of\nthe eastern hemisphere pours itself with an exhaustless tide,\nwhose wisdom is the experience of six thousand years, and whose\nlabors already testify to the vigor of its ripe and lusty\nmanhood, must be a people in whose ranks each individual counts\none, and by the overwhelming pressure of whose progress ignorance\nand pauperism must eventually disappear.\n\nThe church which gathers this grand race of the future into her\nbosom, and holds them by her spiritual hand, must, therefore, be\na church adapted to the wants, the sympathies, the tastes of\nworking-men. Its creed must be within the scope of their\nintelligence. Its worship must give form to their devotion. Its\nteaching must be simple, earnest, hearty, like themselves. Its\npastoral care must be at once familiar, constant, and\nencouraging. Just what the so-called \"_masses_\" need to-day,\nin faith, in ceremony, in the pulpit, in the priest, will the\nwhole nation seek for in those years of coming labor. Just that\ninternal structure and external operation which now most fully\nand most readily supplies that need, will characterize that\nchurch which then absorbs the rest and guides and governs this\ngreat people in all heavenly things. And if, of all the clashing\nsects of Protestantism, there is one which is destined to occupy\nthis exalted station, it is that one which is to-day the \"church\nof the people,\" and whose trophies, won in warfare with the\ntoiling multitudes of past and present generations, are the sure\nomens of complete and final victory.\n\nJudged by this standard, what prospect has the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church of becoming the \"church of the future\" in our\ncountry?\n\nThis question merits a most serious and thorough answer; not\nmerely as a speculative problem, but as a matter eminently\npractical, affording a fair test of her divine commission, and of\nthe quality of the spiritual workmanship which she performs. For\nthis reason, we attempt to pass upon her no verdict of our own,\nbut, turning to her best authorities, gather from them the\n_data_ of her progress, and the measure of her churchly\ncapabilities.\n\nThe first few years of this half-century were a season of unusual\nprosperity to the Episcopal Church. From 1850 to 1856 the\nnumerical increase of her membership far exceeded that of any\nformer period. The ranks of her clergy gained largely in extent\nand influence. A spirit of unprecedented activity seemed aroused\nwithin her; and, above all, was manifested a disposition to rally\nround herself the other Protestant denominations, and unite them\nwith her into one ecclesiastical body.\n\nThis disposition met with much encouragement from those outside\nher fold. Many who never yet had called themselves by any\ndistinctive Christian name were attracted, by her dignity and\norder, to regard her as the most desirable of Protestant\nsocieties. Eminent \"_dissenters_\" looked to her for the\nsolution of that entanglement of schism in which their various\nbarks were already well-nigh overwhelmed. Large charity on both\nsides, and a full meeting of the issue upon her part, alone\nseemed necessary for the consummation of that \"union\" for which\ndistracted Christendom had so long yearned and prayed.\n\n{150}\n\nIt was her golden opportunity. The iron was hot for the hammer.\nThe wheat was ripe for the harvest. The profound peace, which\nrested on the entire country, gave leisure for sedate and kindly\ninquiry. The spirit of organic life was kindling over all the\nland, and men were drawing into closer brotherhood, and\nprejudices waned and lost their power. It needed but a strong\nwill and skilful hand to sweep away the few remaining obstacles,\nand the triumph of Episcopacy in this country might have been\nsecured.\n\nPerhaps the most startling of the events which marked this\nimportant period, and certainly the one which most clearly\nmanifested its awakening vitality, was the presentation of a\n_Memorial_ to the General Convention of 1853. Therein was\nsuggested the important question, whether \"the posture of our\nchurch with reference to the great moral and social necessities\nof the day\" was all that could be desired or expected, and\nwhether her usefulness might not, by specified means, be greatly\nenlarged.[Footnote 28]\n\n [Footnote 28: _Journal_ of 1853, p. 181, _et seq._]\n\nThe convention referred the subject to a commission of bishops,\nwhich met six times during the interval between the date of its\nappointment and the convention of 1856. At its first meeting this\ncommission published a _Circular_, propounding certain\nquestions, and requesting answers to them, from any persons\ninterested in the subject into whose hands the circulars might\nfall. A large number of communications were received in reply,\nboth from Episcopal and non-Episcopal divines, most of which\nunited in admitting the necessity for some decisive change, and\nin recommending the improvements suggested in the _Memorial_\nitself. At the general convention of 1856, the commission made\ntheir report, warning the church of the great popular destitution\nwhich surrounded her, and advising the adoption of extemporary\npreaching, the curtailment of the liturgical services, the\nemployment of lay workers, the association of unmarried women\ninto sisterhoods, the better training of her ministry, and the\nthorough Christian cultivation of the young, as the principal\nmeans by which her ability to meet these necessities might be\nextended. [Footnote 29]\n\n [Footnote 29: _Journal_ of 1856, p. 339. 1 1 tut. p. 204.]\n\nThe house of bishops therefore passed a series of resolutions,\nexpressing their opinion that certain variations might be\nlawfully made in public worship, and appointing a \"Commission on\nChurch Unity\" to confer with other churches as occasion might\nrequire. [Footnote 30]\n\n [Footnote 30: _Ibid_. p 204.]\n\nBut no legislation followed. No practical recognition of the\nemergencies in which the nation lay, or of her urgent duty to\nmeet the wants which cried so loudly for her interference, marked\nthe proceedings of this chief council of the church. Not one of\nthe important measures which the _Memorial_ suggested, which\nmany leaders of the church recommended, and which the Episcopal\ncommission had itself advised, received the sanction of her\nlegislative will. On the contrary, at the next session of the\nconvention, in 1859, a strong and determined effort was made, by\nthe house of clerical and lay deputies, to move the house of\nbishops to rescind their resolutions, and permit the\nrepresentative branch of the convention to take part in the\ndiscussion of the subject and in determining what steps should be\nadopted. This the bishops refused, [Footnote 31] and there the\nmatter rested and still rests a solitary report of the\n\"Commission on Church Unity\" that _they have done nothing_\n[Footnote 32] alone marking the spot where the vast hopes and\naspirations of the _Memorialists_ exhaled and disappeared.\n\n [Footnote 31: _Journal_ of 1859, pp. 55, 72, 100, 143.]\n\n [Footnote 32: _Ibid_. p. 382.]\n\n{151}\n\nAnd thus the golden opportunity of Protestant Episcopalianism\npassed by. The terrible events which followed in the next six\nyears, put far away that quiet calm in which religious\ndifferences grow dim, and love for God and man overcomes human\npride. Through her own bisection into _Confederate_ and\n_Federal_ her unifying influence has sustained a shock from\nwhich it will not, for long years, recover. The\n_evangelical_ churches have, at once, lost confidence in her\ndisposition to meet them with a fair and open compromise, and in\nher separate ability to do the work which, in the providence of\nGod, is placed before her; while her internal difficulties have\naugmented year by year, and rendered less and less likely the\nrevival of that spirit which promised such achievements only\nfifteen years ago. Her golden opportunity passed by. But that\nhour of trial, in the great crucible of national emergencies, can\nnever be forgotten, either by her friends or foes, and both will\nlook to it for the disclosure of her real abilities, and for the\nrevelation of her character, as human or divine.\n\nThe _Memorial_, the report of the commission, and many of\nthe communications which were received in answer to the\n_Circular_, were collected into one volume, and published by\nthe Rt. Rev. Bishop Potter, of Pennsylvania, in 1857. For some\nreason, (which we never could explain,) the publication of this\nvolume was soon afterward suspended, and such portions of that\nedition as could be reached were called in and destroyed. The\nlast monuments of the _great uprising_ were thus levelled\nwith the dust; and, to-day, except for the few copies of\n_Memorial Papers_ which escaped destruction, and the\nscattered records of _Convention Journals,_ reliable\nstatistics of that eventful period are almost unattainable.\n\nFortunately, however, we have these authorities at hand, and thus\nare able to try the Episcopal Church by her own evidence, and\nrest the truth or falsehood of her claims to be the \"church of\nthe people\" on her own solemn and well-weighed admissions.\n\nFirst, then, in the _Memorial_ itself, which bears the date\nof October 14th, 1853, we find the following statement:\n\n \"The actual posture of our church, with reference to the great\n moral and social necessities of the day, presents to the minds\n of the undersigned a subject of grave and anxious thought. Did\n they suppose that this was confined to themselves, they would\n not feel warranted in submitting it to your attention; but they\n believe it to be participated in by many of their brethren, who\n may not have seen the expediency of declaring their views, or,\n at least, a mature season for such a course.\n\n \"The divided and distracted state of our American Protestant\n Christianity; the new and subtle forms of unbelief, adapting\n themselves with fatal success to the spirit of the age; the\n consolidated forces of Romanism, bearing with renewed skill and\n activity against the Protestant faith; and, as more or less the\n consequence of these, the utter ignorance of the gospel among\n so large a portion of the lower classes of our population,\n making a heathen world in our midst, are among the\n considerations which induce your memorialists to present the\n inquiry whether the period has not arrived for the adoption of\n measures, to meet these exigencies of the times, more\n comprehensive than any yet provided for by our present\n ecclesiastical system; in other words, _whether the\n Protestant Episcopal Church, with only her present canonical\n means and appliances, her fixed and invariable modes of public\n worship, and her traditional customs and usages, is competent\n to the work of preaching and dispensing the gospel to all sorts\n and conditions of men, and so adequate to do the work of the\n Lord in this land and in this age? This question, your\n petitioners, for their own part, and in consonance with many\n thoughtful minds among us, believe_ MUST BE ANSWERED IN THE\n NEGATIVE.\" [Footnote 33]\n\n [Footnote 33: _Memorial Papers_, p. 27, et seq.]\n\n{152}\n\n\"The undersigned,\" who passed this severe and searching criticism\nupon the practical efficiency of the Episcopal Church, were such\nmen as Dr. Muhlenberg, founder and chaplain of St. Luke's\nHospital, New York; Dr. Crus\u00e9, librarian, and Drs. Turner and\nJohnson, professors at the General Theological Seminary; Drs.\nBedell and Coxe, both since made bishops; Drs. Hobart and Higbee,\nof Old Trinity; Drs. Francis and A. H. Vinton, two of the most\neminent of her parochial clergy; and Dr. Harwood, late professor\nat the Berkeley Seminary of Connecticut. Certainly no\nEpiscopalian, either of that day or our own, could ask for more\nreliable authority.\n\nSecond, the report of the commission of the house of bishops,\nmade to the convention of 1856, after some preliminary\nstatements, thus continues:\n\n \"An examination into the relative increase of the various\n bodies of Christians in the United States within the last\n thirty years will exhibit some startling facts, which may well\n rouse us to serious considerations, and lead us to ask\n ourselves the questions, 'What have we been doing? and what\n shall we do?' We have been in the habit of looking merely at\n the increase of our ministers and members within given periods\n as the proper exponent of our growth, without considering how\n that increase compares with the rate of increase in the\n population at large. Making our estimate in this way--and it\n is the only accurate method to ascertain the ratio of our\n growth or increase as a church--_it will be found that we are\n by no means keeping pace with the population of the country_\n in the provision we make for their religious instruction, to\n say nothing of our duty to heathen and foreign lands; that we\n are consequently falling very far below the measure of our\n responsibility, and _that our growth in the last half\n century_, which has been dwelt upon with complacency, if not\n with a spirit of vainglory, _furnishes matter of deep\n humiliation and shame, rather than of boasting_.\" [Footnote\n 34]\n\n [Footnote 34: _Memorial Papers_, p. 53, et seq.]\n\nAnd again:\n\n \"Ministers are found, who yet do not minister; rectors who\n cannot govern; pastors who do not feed the flock; teachers send\n forth theological essays, for the instruction of the church,\n who might find better employment in studying the Bible and\n catechism, while the necessary means for maintaining religious\n services too often have to be wrung from those who appear\n reluctant to recognize it as a Christian obligation to give of\n their ability, as God has prospered them, with liberality, with\n cheerfulness, and with simplicity. _On every side the\n complaint is heard, that the work of the church languishes, or\n is not done._' [Footnote 35]\n\n [Footnote 35: _Ibid_. p. 58.]\n\nThe bishops over whose signatures these statements were made were\nOtey of Tennessee, Doane of New Jersey, Potter of Pennsylvania,\nBurgess of Maine, and Williams of Connecticut; all of whom,\nexcept the latter, have since closed their earthly career,\nleaving behind them reputations for prudence, learning, and\nearnestness in their official labors which are sacred in the\nheart of every member of the church over which they ruled.\n\nThird, in the communications sent to the commission, in answer to\ntheir _Circular_, the same sentiment prevails. The Rev. Dr.\nCraik, of Louisville, Ky., in speaking of the constitution of the\napostolic church, remarks:\n\n \"Nearly the whole church has sanctioned the wisdom of this\n seemingly apostolic arrangement by imitating it. The refusal of\n the church in the United States to imitate it, has sanctioned\n its wisdom in another way, _by our comparative failure to do\n the work of the church in this country_.\" [Footnote 36]\n\n [Footnote 36: _Ibid_. p. 232.]\n\n{153}\n\nThe Rev. Dr. Gregory, of Syracuse, writes:\n\n \"It is said that the Episcopal Church is the church of the\n educated and the rich. _This is so_ to a considerable\n extent, particularly in the cities.\" [Footnote 37]\n\n [Footnote 37: _Memorial Papers_, p. 250. ]\n\nThen, speaking of certain remedial measures, he continues:\n\n \"It cannot be done, in the present state of feeling--the pride\n of social distinction is against it; and all the canons and\n councils in Christendom cannot make a church _efficient_\n in which this feeling prevails.\" [Footnote 38]\n\n [Footnote 38: _Ibid_. p. 251.]\n\nAnd again, in concluding, he says:\n\n \"The great body of our people are at ease--satisfied to have a\n _valid_ ministry, and _valid_ sacraments, and a\n _sober_ liturgy, and a _conservative_ ecclesiastical\n system. And the rest of the world have _no evidence_ that\n we _care_ very much about them.\" [Footnote 39]\n\n [Footnote 39: _Ibid_. p. 254.]\n\nThe Rev. Dr. Howe, of Philadelphia, declares:\n\n \"Having been through my whole ministry (now of more than\n twenty-two years continuance) in a position to observe the\n relation of our church to the middling and lower classes as\n they are found in and around great cities, I cannot forbear the\n confession that we do not, by the authorized appliances of the\n church, reach and interest them. Individuals of these classes,\n by the force of early association, or a refinement of taste\n unusual in their sphere, do retain or acquire a strong\n attachment to our worship, and derive unspeakable benefits from\n its use. But the fact is too glaring to be denied, that\n mechanics and laboring men are not in any considerable numbers\n reckoned among our people; and pastors who will expose the\n truth in this behalf, must confess that of those who are reared\n among us to these industrial pursuits very many desert the\n church, and find religious associations more acceptable to them\n among other denominations. This is too general to be attributed\n to the unfaithfulness of ministers. There must be some lack in\n the system of means under which such disastrous issues occur.\"\n [Footnote 40]\n\n [Footnote 40: _Ibid_. p. 255.]\n\nThese are but a few out of the many writers whose communications\nwere collected into the volume before alluded to, and even those\nwere few in number, when compared with those whose letters were\nomitted from lack of room. Of these, Bishop Potter, in his\n_Introduction_, says:\n\n \"A large proportion plead for change in one or more respects\n more earnestly than most of those inserted;\" [Footnote 41]\n\n [Footnote 41: _Memorial Papers_, p. ix.]\n\nand then significantly adds:\n\n \"That a spirit of self-depreciation and of change for the mere\n sake of change is not that to which as a communion we are most\n obnoxious.\" [Footnote 42]\n\n [Footnote 42: _Ibid_. p. ix.]\n\nFourth, at the same general con before which the _Memorial_\nwas first discussed, another document was presented, in tone and\napplication almost exactly similar, which forms a valuable\ncorroboration of the statements which we have already cited. This\nwas the report of the Committee on the Domestic and Foreign\nMissionary Society, of which the Rev. Dr. Stevens, now Bishop of\nPennsylvania, was chairman. In this report the following occurs:\n\n \"Not only have we to deal with these multitudes of emigrants,\n spreading their ignorance, their irreligion, and their\n superstitions over the land, but we should also carefully\n provide for another and deeply interesting class, those who\n come to us from countries and churches holding like principles\n of ecclesiastical polity and Christian faith, the sons of\n Sweden, and the children of the Church of England, and the\n brethren from Moravia. ... _Thousands of emigrants from these\n foreign churches, who, if properly looked after, would unite\n themselves to our church, are lost to us, and either relapse\n into infidelity or unite themselves with the sects around them,\n because we make no effort to win them to our bosom._\"\n [Footnote 43]\n\n [Footnote 43: _Journal_ of 1853, pp. 80, 81. ]\n\nThe report then calls attention to the new missionary fields\nopening in the West, and says:\n\n{154}\n\n \"Every other evangelical denomination in the land has gone\n before us in this matter, and the Romish Church has planted\n bishops, clergy, schools, churches, convents, and colleges,\n while we have been debating about one bishop and two or three\n ministers. As in too many previous instances, our church has\n been too much stiffened with dignity to run, like the prophet,\n before the chariot of some political or commercial Ahab, but,\n like a laggard in the race, treads daintily and slowly in\n others' footsteps, and then, when almost too late, discovers\n her error.\" [Footnote 44]\n\n [Footnote 44: _Journal_ of 1853, p. 81.]\n\nSuch was the deliberate verdict of the bishops and the leading\nclergy of the Protestant Episcopal Church, concerning her\nefficiency, during and prior to the year 1856. Such was the\nintensity of the conviction which forced itself upon the minds of\ncommittees and conventions, and swept from one end of her\ncommunion to the other, that, without great changes in her mode\nof dealing with the masses of our people, no considerable\ninfluence over them could ever be obtained. It is no wonder that\nBishop Upfold should have written, concerning these admissions,\nthat\n\n \"Her worst enemies could not have said a worse thing of the\n church; and, _if it be true, involves a cogent argument for\n at once abandoning a church so radically and essentially\n defective in its organization and working agencies_.\"\n [Footnote 45]\n\n [Footnote 45: _Memorial Papers_, p. 189.]\n\nSurely if evidence of any kind could satisfy us that, at any time\nat least, the Episcopal Church was not adapted, by internal\nstructure and external operations, to control and harmonize\nAmerican society, the evidence which the _Memorial_ movement\nthus elicited, has done it. If it ever has been, or can ever be,\nmade manifest that any given church is not the \"Church of the\nPeople,\" it was then demonstrated that the Protestant Episcopal\nChurch is not so.\n\nSince that golden epoch twelve years have passed away. That the\npeople of America have materially changed, either in intelligence\nor religious feeling; that their necessities are lessened or more\neasily supplied, no one will venture to assert. All the world\nknows that the spiritual destitution of the nation has increased,\nand that the same means which failed to relieve it then meet with\nlike failure now. All the world knows that the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church is the same dignified and stolid organization,\nmoving on in the same beaten track, its ponderous and cumbersome\nmachinery revolving heavily round the same well-worn axis, and\nlimited on every side by clamps and bands, which tremulous\nconservatism dare not offer to unloose.\n\nThe records to which we have heretofore referred show also that,\nin both of these particulars, all the world is right. Not one of\nthe measures advocated by the _Memorialists_ has ever been\nadopted. No law has ever passed, requiring that her clergy preach\ninstead of read. No general attempt has yet been made to organize\nthe lay element, either male or female, into a body of efficient\nlaborers. No change has taken place in the canon which requires\nthat upon every occasion of public worship the Prayer-book, and\nit only, should be used. And, worse than this, no disposition to\nso modify existing modes of labor as to secure their wider range\nor surer efficacy has ever since been manifested. Even when, at\nthe convention of 1865, a memorial was presented, signed by\nnearly fifty leading clergymen, repeating the statements of the\n_Memorial_ of 1853, and praying for the institution of an\nassociation of \"_Evangelists,_\" in the hope that \"these\nstatements may be so regarded as to secure to the church the\nimportant instrumentalities.\" ... \"which were never more urgently\ndemanded than at the present time,\" the house of bishops coolly\nresolved that \"_it was not expedient to entertain the\nsubject_\" and the other house tacitly concurred in the\ndecision. [Footnote 46]\n\n [Footnote 46: _Journal_ of 1865, pp. 361, 190.]\n\n{155}\n\nIf, in the face of facts like these, we judge of the future by\nthe present and the past, what shall we say? Is there a hope\nthat, in that mighty era when this great continent shall swarm\nwith prosperous, intelligent, industrious millions, a church,\nwhich during a whole century, with every advantage of\nrespectability and wealth, has met with such signal failure,\nshall rise into supremacy? Is there a probability great enough to\njustify our serious contemplation that a church, whose claim to\nbe the \"Church of the People\" is thus denied by that unerring\nvoice of history which is the echo of the voice of God, should be\nthe \"Church of the Future\" in our country?\n\nWe know no better answer to these questions than the thrilling\nexhortation given by the venerable Dr. Muhlenberg to the Memorial\nCommission concerning their own duty to their church:\n\n \"Bid her,\" said he, \"look over this vast continent, filling\n with people of all nations and languages and tongues, and see\n the folly of hoping to perpetuate among them an _Anglican_\n communion, that will ever be recognized as aught more than an\n honorable sect. Bid her give over the vain attempt to cast all\n men's minds into one mould.\n\n \"Bid her cherish among her own members mutual tolerance of\n opinion in doctrine, and taste in worship; remembering that\n uniform sameness in lesser matters may be the ambition of a\n society, a party, a school in the church, but is far below any\n genuine aspirations of the church herself. It is the genius of\n Catholicism which is now knocking at her doors. Let her refuse\n to open. Let her, if she will, make them faster still with new\n bolts and bars, and then take her rest, to dream _a wilder\n dream than any of the Memorial of becoming the Catholic Church\n of these United States._\" [Footnote 47]\n\n [Footnote 47: _Memorial Papers_, p. 288.]\n\nThe conclusions to which the experience of a hundred years has\nthus directed us will be extended and confirmed by an examination\nof certain characteristics which the \"Church of the Future,\" as a\n\"Church of the People,\" must necessarily present, and by a\ncomparison of these with the internal structure and external\noperations of the Episcopal Church. In the course of this\nexamination we shall also probably discover the causes from which\nthe past failures of the latter have resulted, and the means by\nwhich she might adapt herself more fully to the wants of the\ncountry and the age, if, in fact, such adaptation were any longer\npossible. Therefore we proceed:\n\nII. The \"Church of the Future\" is a church of stability in\nprinciple and flexibility in operation.\n\nThe work of the church of God upon the earth is to teach and\ngovern men. The truth, by which alone the intellect can be\nenlightened, the law, by which alone the heart and life can be\nsubjected to the will of God, are both entrusted to her keeping.\nDoctrine informing and directing discipline, discipline realizing\nand preserving doctrine--such is the system by which her Lord\ncommanded her to subdue the world, and by which to this day the\nworld has been subdued.\n\nThe people whose church the \"Church of the Future\" is to be, and\nof whom, as its members, it must be composed, will be a\n_free_ people. The race from which they spring long ago\nrecognized, as fundamental truth, that the will of the people is\nthe highest law, and every civil and political institution which\nis or is to be derives its origin and permanence from the sole\nfiat of the citizen. There is no power above it by which its\nerrors may be corrected or its excesses be restrained.\n{156}\nThe popular vote is the tribunal from whose decision there can be\nno appeal. The ballot-box is the throne of state, from which\nsupreme authority comes down only to take up the thunderbolts of\nwar.\n\nThe sturdy independence which results from such a national\ncultivation will place a burden of no common order upon the\nchurch into whose hands the control and unification of American\nsociety must fall. The bearer of divine illumination, the\ncustodian of unalterable truth, the spiritual government of the\npeople, will be also on her shoulders; and she must be able to\nwithstand not only persecution from without, but the more\ndangerous assaults of innovation and revolt within. She must have\n_no capacity for compromise_. The organic principle which\nbinds into one body her integral elements must be beyond the\npower of popular tumult to disturb or political dissensions to\ndestroy. In every storm and tempest she must be immovable, and,\nwith a will of divine firmness and an arm of godlike might, must\nbend the tempest and control the storm.\n\nAgain, the people over whom the \"Church of the Future\" will\nextend its sway embraces men of every nation, color, class, and\ntongue. The offspring of the African, the Saxon, and the Indian\ndwell here together with the children of the Hebrew, the\nMongolian, the Teuton, and the Celt. Religions of all forms offer\ncontemporaneous and discordant worship to their several\ndivinities. Prejudices of every complexion and against every\ntruth mingle in the religious atmosphere. Vices of every name,\ngrown, through long apathy or longer ignorance, into a second\nnature, contaminate the public heart. Every possible diversity of\nideas, of tastes, of impossibilities, is found among them, and,\nunder all, the same great wants, the same unceasing aspirations,\nthe same formless void.\n\nThe church which heals the spiritual wounds of such a people must\nboth possess and use appliances of infinite variety. Her\n_pharmacopoeia_ must contain all remedies which ever have\nbeen suitable to man. Her learning and ability must extend to\ntheir appropriate selection and bestowal. She must, indeed, be\n\"all things to all men,\" high with the high and lowly with the\nlow, wise with the learned and simple with the ignorant, firm\nwith the headstrong and gentle with the meek, sublime with the\nimaginative, cold with the severe, in every way adapting the\nmethod of her operations to the dispositions of the people whom\nshe seeks to save, if by any means their salvation may be made\nsecure.\n\nThus, in herself immovable, eternal, and in her labors as\nflexible and various as the needs she must supply, the \"Church of\nthe Future\" will not only conquer, but wherever and whatever she\nhas conquered she will thenceforth unceasingly retain.\n\nBut can the church which does this be the Episcopal Church? Let\nus test her immobility of principles. Let us measure the\nflexibility of her operations. The result will teach us much that\nis worth learning, and should not be without its influence on\nher.\n\nThe Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States consists \"of\nthirty-four confederated dioceses, under the care of bishops,\nusing the same liturgy, and yielding obedience\" to the same canon\nlaw. [Footnote 48] The organic principle by which this\nconfederation was originated and has been maintained is a written\nconstitution. [Footnote 49] Its organic life is manifested\nthrough a general convention, in which the supreme legislative\nand judicial authority of the whole church resides.\n\n [Footnote 48: _Church Almanac_ for 1867, p. 17.]\n\n [Footnote 49: Law writers define a \"constitution\" as either a\n \"limitation\" or a \"grant\" of power. Did the general\n convention of 1789, in adopting the constitution of the\n Episcopal Church, thereby _grant_ to the church of\n Christ, or to any part thereof, powers of which it was\n previously destitute, or limit powers which Christ himself\n conferred upon it? Or, on the contrary, is not the idea of a\n \"constitution\" essentially repugnant to the idea of the\n Christian church?]\n\n{157}\n\nEach of these several dioceses consists of various parishes,\nunited under one bishop, and yielding obedience to the same local\nlaw. The organic principle of the diocese is a written\nconstitution; and its organic life is manifested in a diocesan\nconvention, in which the supreme legislative and judicial\nauthority of the diocese resides.\n\nEach of the several parishes which compose a diocese consists of\na greater or less number of lay-people, united under one pastor\nand occupying certain fixed and well-known territorial limits.\nIts organic principle is usually a written constitution; and its\norganic life is manifested through a body of vestrymen, to whom\nthe management of its parochial affairs is entrusted.\n\nWith the exception that the church possesses no chief executive,\ncorresponding to the President of the United States, her organic\nsystem is almost identical with the political order of the\ngovernment under which she lives.\n\nThe general convention of the church is composed of two houses, a\nhouse of bishops and a house of clerical and lay deputies. The\nhouse of bishops consists of all the bishops of the various\ndioceses, as members _ex officio_. The house of deputies\nconsists of four delegates--two clerical and two lay--from each\ndiocese, appointed in diocesan convention. A concurrence of both\norders in the lower house, and of both houses, is necessary to a\nvote of the convention. [Footnote 50]\n\n [Footnote 50: See Constitution, appendix to\n _Journal_ of 1865, arts. 2 and 3.]\n\nThe convention of each diocese is composed of the clergy,\ncanonically resident within its limits, and of a certain number\nof lay-deputies, appointed by the various congregations of which\nthe diocese consists.\n\nThe vestrymen of each parish are elected annually by the people.\n\nIn each of these three bodies the lay element possesses the\nvirtual supremacy. In general convention, no law can be enacted,\nno lax discipline can be reformed, no erroneous doctrine can be\ncorrected, without the express acquiescence of the lay-deputies.\nIn the diocesan convention, no bishop can be elected, no\ndelegates to the general convention can be appointed, and no\nlocal diocesan regulations can be established, until the laity\nagree. In the parish, no pastor can be called, no church-building\nbe erected, no regular order be determined, while the people\nwithhold their permission. And though, upon the face of it, this\npower may seem to be entirely negative, yet it is not so; for, in\nthe right to choose their pastors and convention-delegates, the\nreal control of the diocesan conventions, and, through these, of\ntheir bishops and the general convention, is placed ultimately in\ntheir hands, and, whenever they might choose to organize for such\na purpose, a single generation would suffice to overturn the\ndoctrine, discipline, and worship of the church itself.\n\nIn this respect, also, the Episcopal Church has practically\nconformed herself to the model which our national institutions\nset before her. If she believes that, in religious as well as\nsecular affairs, \"all governments derive their just powers from\nthe consent of the governed,\" her system and belief are certainly\nconsistent, but it can hardly be pretended that either of them is\ndivine.\n{158}\nNor will it be denied that all the objections to which the\ntemporal is open on the score of instability and weakness are\ndoubly pertinent to the ecclesiastical, so long as those whom\nChrist intended that his church should govern on the contrary\nreally govern her.\n\nBut however unstable and insecure in all her fundamental and\norganic principles the Episcopal Church has thus been rendered by\nthe inherent nature of her system, she certainly is far from\nflexible in her methods of external operation. Here all the\nstrength of her conservatism concentrates itself. The Prayer-Book\nis \"the apple of her eye.\" It cost her less to blot out a creed\nin which the faith of ages was embodied, and rob her clergy of\nthe power of absolution, than it would now to change a single\nsyllable of her \"incomparable liturgy.\" Yet nothing is more\nwidely understood, even in her own borders, than that this very\nliturgy is the greatest barrier which stands between her and the\nmasses of the people; and that her inflexible, unvarying use of\nit on all occasions is the great patent cause of her acknowledged\nfailures.\n\nThe entire _Memorial_ movement proceeded upon the assumption\nthat this inflexibility exists, and that to it must be attributed\nthe uselessness of efforts which, under different methods, should\nhave accomplished great results. The _Memorialists_ did not\nhesitate to say that, with \"her fixed and invariable modes of\npublic worship,\" her \"canonical means and appliances,\" \"her\ntraditional customs and usages,\" she was \"inadequate to do the\nwork of the Lord,\" and that, in their view, it was necessary to\ndefine and act upon a system \"broader and more comprehensive\"\nthan that which then existed, and \"providing for as much freedom\nin opinion, discipline, and worship as is compatible with the\nessential faith and order of the gospel.\" [Footnote 51] The\ncommission boldly acknowledged that \"we have to labor in places\nwhere very much of our work is outside of that contemplated in\nthe plans of our offices,\" [Footnote 52] and that \"our methods of\ndealing with men should be more direct and manifold.\" [Footnote\n53] They admitted the \"necessity of that diversity in our modes\nof operation which has not been heretofore sufficiently\nappreciated,\" [Footnote 54] and that \"we have refused or\nneglected to use many gifts which Christ has bestowed on his\nchurch.\" [Footnote 55] Different bishops declared that her\nministers \"must often preach the gospel where the attempt to\nperform the entire service would be incongruous, unsuccessful,\nand injurious;\" [Footnote 56] that at such times the clergy were\n\"like David in Saul's armor,\" [Footnote 57] and objects of\ncompassion in the eyes of others. The late Bishop Polk, with\ncharacteristic frankness, stated:\n\n [Footnote 51: _Memorial Papers_, p. 30.]\n\n [Footnote 52: _Ibid_. p. 50.]\n\n [Footnote 53: _Ibid_. p. 53.]\n\n [Footnote 54: _Ibid_. p. 52.]\n\n [Footnote 55: _Ibid_. p. 58.]\n\n [Footnote 56: _Ibid_. p. 126.]\n\n [Footnote 57: _Ibid_. p. 160.]\n\n \"I am satisfied our liturgical services as now used are to a\n certain extent impediments in our way. ... There are\n circumstances in which all the services help us. ... There are\n other circumstances in which the use of all the service is a\n manifest and felt hinderance. ... We are not as powerful a\n church as we might be if we had more liberty. Of this I am\n fully persuaded.\" [Footnote 58]\n\n [Footnote 58: _Ibid_. pp. 160, 161.]\n\nThe missionary bishop of Oregon and Washington, out of his large\nexperience, concludes:\n\n \"There are undoubtedly great advantages resulting to the church\n from a general uniformity of worship; but if that uniformity be\n so minute and fixed as to refuse adaptation to the actual\n condition and wants of Christian men, or to restrain in any\n degree the preaching of the gospel to every creature, then it\n becomes a yoke of bondage and a damage to Christ's kingdom.\"\n [Footnote 59]\n\n [Footnote 59: _Memorial Papers_, p. 213.]\n\n{159}\n\nThe Rev. Dr. Howe remarks:\n\n \"I do not believe, sir, that the difficulty lies in the\n organization of the church, ... but in the unvarying and (in\n the esteem of many) invariable use of our forms and other\n usages of worship. ... The church may be entirely Catholic in\n her doctrine and polity, yet she can never be\n _practically_ so while she requires all men to worship\n everywhere in precisely the same forms.\" [Footnote 60]\n\n [Footnote 60: _Ibid_. p. 256.]\n\nThe Rev. Dr. Trapier asserts that\n\n \"in the country-places, among the rural population, it has\n proved to be an almost hopeless task to introduce our services,\n that is, in their integrity.\" [Footnote 61]\n\n [Footnote 61: _Ibid_. p. 316.]\n\nAnd so great an advocate of formal worship as the Rev. Dr.\nFrancis Vinton is reputed to have been exclaims:\n\n \"You cannot fulfil the Lord's will while the canons of our\n church are left in their stiffness.\" [Footnote 62]\n\n [Footnote 62: _Ibid_. p. 330.]\n\nWe have already seen how much effect the movement, of which these\nwell-considered statements form a part, finally produced upon the\nexternal system of the church, and it is only too well known that\nat this day the declarations of the _Memorialists_ are as\napplicable as they were twelve years ago. The evangelical\nleaders, hopeless of legitimated liberty, have grown more and\nmore restless under the unyielding yoke, and here and there some\nbolder spirit has burst away from the intolerable servitude, and\nasserted his right and duty to do \"the Lord's work\" unhampered by\nher human institutions. Ever and anon some anxious writer\nventures to repeat the declarations and the prayers of the\n_Memorial_. But those who dare to look for any change are\nfew in number, and the high hopes of former days, that the iron\nbars were soon to be unloosed and the eager wings of Christian\nzeal unbound, are already well-nigh buried in despair.\n\nThat, in reference to either of these two essential\ncharacteristics, any improvement will take place we see no reason\nto believe. It would be contradictory to all experience if the\nEpiscopal laity should voluntarily relinquish their share in the\ngovernment and administration of the church which they uphold, or\nthat, by any exercise of spiritual power, the clergy could compel\nthem to its resignation. It seems to us almost equally impossible\nthat the inflexibility of operation which prevents her success\ncan ever be materially diminished. Her liturgy is her _centrum\nunitatis_, her teacher, her authoritative law. It is the\ngolden band which binds her members to one another; which unites\nbishop to bishop, diocese to diocese, priest to priest; which\nlinks her with the centuries of the past, and reaches onward to\nthe future; which keeps her heterogeneous elements in contact\nwith one another, as the electric coil binds into one repellent\nparticles of steel. In it her denominational existence is bound\nup, and with material changes in it she herself is fated to\ndissolve and die.\n\nIt cannot be. No day will ever come when Protestant\nEpiscopalianism can convert this people. No day will ever come\nwhen, if converted, she could govern them. Honored for her\nlearning, her decorum, and her wealth, she may endure to witness\nmany generations pass away. Great names will be in her and great\nmen will be of her. She will do her work in the world, whatever\nthat may be; but her continuance will be that of a sect, and a\nsect only, until the day of her absorption comes.\n\n{160}\n\nIII. The \"Church of the Future\" is a church of uniform and\nconsistent faith.\n\nIt seems almost superfluous for us to argue in support of this\nproposition. That divine truth is one, that what God teaches is\nunchangeable and every way harmonious with itself, are axioms\nwhich even the unlearned can see to be infallible. And that the\nthoughtful, earnest, practical people who must by and by cover\nthis great continent will ever acknowledge as God's\nrepresentative and their spiritual teacher a church whose faith\nis variable and undefined, whose theologians are at issue\nconcerning fundamental points of doctrine, and whose public\npreaching is in perpetual self-contradiction and uncertainty, is\nutterly impossible. The \"Church of the Future\" is a \"Church of\nTruth,\" a church of divine origin and of divine authority, over\nwhom is one Lord, and in whom is one spirit; a church whose voice\nis ever clear and certain, whose unity with herself is evidence\nof her unity with God, and who, in gathering the nations to her\nfootstool, maketh them all \"to be of one mind in the house,\"\nthrough \"the faith once delivered to the saints.\"\n\nWill the Episcopal Church justify this description? Has she that\n\"pure and uncorrupted faith,\" that \"word of the gospel,\" which is\n\"always, and everywhere, and by all\" invariably taught and held?\n\nEverybody knows better. She herself denies it. Years ago one of\nher bishops described her as a church in which parties were\n\"arrayed in bitter hostility to each other;\" in which there was\n\"so much difference of opinion upon important points of doctrine\nthat the bishops and other ministers could not be brought to\nagree;\" in which \"one part denies all claim to an evangelical,\nthat is, a gospel, character, to all who do not agree with them\nin every particular,\" while \"the other party denies to the former\nany just right to the name of churchman.\" [Footnote 63]\n\n [Footnote 63: _Memorial Papers_, p. 187.]\n\nYears ago a venerable presbyter declared that the prime source of\nall her difficulties was that \"_the house_\" was \"_divided\nagainst itself_\" and that so long as men were \"ordained to her\nministry, clothed with her authority, and seated in her high\nplaces, who cannot conscientiously teach her Catechism for\nchildren, and whose work of love it is to revile her doctrines,\nher institutions, and her faithful people, her enemies\" [Footnote\n64] would rejoice, and the world repudiate her claims.\n\n [Footnote 64: _Ibid_. p. 236.]\n\nThe church in the United States has not yet brought forth a\nColenso, neither has a Pusey yet arisen in her midst; but the\ndiversity between these leaders of the Anglican communion is\nhardly greater than obtains between the congregations on this\nside of the Atlantic. The rector of old Trinity with his\nconfessional, the rector of St. George's with his prayer-meeting,\nare exponents of parties, the gulf of whose separation cleaves\ndownward to the bottom of the great plan of man's salvation.\n\"Father\" Morrill at St. Alban's, and the younger Tyng beneath the\nmissionary tent in the public square, represent creeds and\nprinciples as different as any that divide the world. Under the\nshelter of a liturgy which each interprets according to his\npersonal views, they dwell together, and through its rigid\nformularies preserve external uniformity. But everywhere outside\nof it their unity is wanting. Pulpit is arrayed against pulpit,\nseminary against seminary, society against society. Her bishops\nare catalogued as \"high\" and \"low,\" and looked to as the leaders\nof her hostile factions. Her general convention seeks safety in\ninaction. Her ecclesiastical existence hangs upon the thread of\ncompromise.\n\n{161}\n\nHow long this state of things can continue we venture not to\nprophesy. Whether the Episcopal Church is destined to\ndisintegrate like other sects around her, or whether she will\novercome the dangerous schismatic miasm which infests her members\nand be once more the home of peace and unity, are questions which\nwe have no need to answer. But that this state of things was ever\npossible proves that her uniformity, wherever it exists, is\nmerely _accidental_, and never can confer upon her teachings\nthat authority which a clear-sighted and sensible people will\ndemand as a condition of their faith.\n\nThere are still other characteristics which the \"Church of the\nFuture\" will possess, but the limits of this article forbid us to\nexamine them. The three to which we have directed our attention\nare those which were most easily discernible, and concerning\nwhich material for research and comparison lay most readily at\nhand. They have answered our question as definitely as if the\nwhole ground had been gone over, and have told us that, so far as\nhuman calculations can extend, the Protestant Episcopal Church\nwill never be the \"Church of the Future\" in our country.\n\nIn attempting to demonstrate this proposition we have been\nactuated by no feeling of hostility toward the Episcopal Church.\nToo many sacred memories, too many years of deep and fond\naffection, have made her priests and people dear forever to our\nhearts. We believe that, in the inscrutable providence of God,\nshe has a work to do; a work which, stained with heresy and rent\nwith schism as she is, none else can do so well. Standing between\nthe Catholic Church and the remoter darknesses of Rationalism and\nInfidelity, she catches the light of its eternal truth more\nfully, and breathes a far diviner atmosphere than they. She\ndrinks in the solemn beauty of its apostolic order. She feels the\npower of its infallible authority. She wonders at its vast and\nperfect unity. She strives to reproduce these marks of the true\nchurch upon her own exterior, and calls her neighbors to examine\nand admire.\n\nThus she becomes the school-mistress to lead them to the truth.\nHow many, who by birth, by prejudice, by old associations,\nappeared to be for ever aliens to the Catholic fold, have yielded\nfirst to the modified Protestantism of the Episcopal Church, and\nthrough her have been led straight home to the real mother of\ntheir souls! The names of Newman and Spencer, Faber, Ives, and\nBaker, teach us how much Catholics may owe to her who, even since\nher fall, has nursed the spiritual infancy of many saints of God.\nAnd we, who from her breast drew our first reverence for Holy\nChurch, and, guided by her hand, at last beheld the beacon-light\nwhich led us to the Rock of Peter and the Home of Peace, can\nnever cease to love her, or to pray that her great work may\nspread until the people of this nation, entranced by her\nreflected beauty, may turn their eyes to whence her light\nproceeds, and hasten onward to the Catholic Church, in which the\nsun of truth for ever shines.\n\nLet, then, the general convention of 1868, so soon to gather in\nthis great metropolis, awake to the emergency and quit themselves\nlike men. The task imposed upon them is worthy of their toil,\nand, though the church for which they legislate reap not the\nharvest, they shall have their reward.\n{162}\nThe influence of their grand and solemn worship, of their fixed,\nconservative ideas, is necessary to keep down this restless age,\nand make it look with calmness on the questions of the day. Let\nthat worship be established and those ideas extended in every\ntown and hamlet to which the Catholic Church has not preceded\nthem. Let her bishops and her clergy imbue the people with\nveneration for apostolic order and with a spirit of submission to\napostolic power. Let her maintain the truths which she preserves,\nand with them build foundations in the national heart for the\nerection of the divine temple of the Christian faith. Let her do\nthis and so fulfil the work which lies before her, doubting not\nlest the Lord forget her labor, but hoping that the way of grace\nshe paves for others it may be finally her lot to tread.\n\nAnd when the \"Church of the Future\" counts the trophies of her\nvictory, and reviews the means by which it was accomplished, the\nwork of Protestant Episcopalianism shall not be forgotten, and\nthe workmen who performed it shall receive the meed of praise\nwhich is their due.\n\n ----------\n\n From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n Chapter IV.\n\nAll this while, everything was pursuing its usual course at the\nfarm of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes. Yegof's strange behavior was almost\nforgotten, and war was for the time unthought of. Old Duchene,\nwhile Hullin plodded back, was driving his cattle home, the\nherdsman Robin spreading the straw on which they were to rest,\nand Annette and Jeanne were skimming the daily tribute of their\ndairy. Catherine Lefevre alone, silent and gloomy, mused over\nwhat had passed, as she superintended the work of her people. She\nwas too old, too grave, to so soon forget events which had\nagitated her so strongly. At nightfall, after the evening repast,\nshe entered the large kitchen where the farm-servants awaited\nher, and there took down her register and placed it upon the\ntable, ready, as was her wont, to regulate the accounts of the\nday.\n\nIt might have been half-past seven, when footsteps were heard at\nthe gate. The watch-dog sprang forward growling, listened for a\nmoment, sniffed the air, and then quietly returned to his bone.\n\n\"It is some one belonging to the farm,\" said Annette; \"Michel\nknows him.\"\n\nAt the same moment old Duchene exclaimed:\n\n\"Good-evening, Master Jean-Claude! You are back.\"\n\n\"Yes--from Phalsbourg, and I will remain here a few moments to\nrest before going to the village. Is Catherine at home?\"\n\n\"She is within,\" replied Duchene. And brave Jean-Claude entered\ninto the bright light, his broad hat drawn over his eyes, and the\nroll of sheepskin upon his shoulder.\n\n{163}\n\n\"Good-evening, my children,\" said he, \"good-evening. Always at\nwork, I see.\"\n\n\"Yes, Monsieur Hullin,\" answered Jeanne, laughing. \"If we had\nnothing to do, life would be tiresome indeed.\"\n\n\"True, my dear, true. There is nothing like work for giving rosy\ncheeks and shining eyes.\"\n\nJeanne was about to reply when the door opened, and Catherine\nLefevre advanced into the room. She cast an anxious glance on\nHullin, as if to divine beforehand the news he was bringing.\n\n\"Well, Jean-Claude, you have returned.\"\n\n\"Yes, Catherine, and with good and ill tidings.\"\n\n\"Let us have them!\" exclaimed she, presenting a seat to the\nsabot-maker, as he deposited his roll upon the table.\n\n\"Well, the news from Gaspard is good; the boy is well, although\nhe has had a hard time of it; so much the better--hardship\nstrengthens youth. But the war goes badly, badly!\"\n\nHe shook his head as he spoke, and the old woman, seating herself\nin her arm-chair directly in front of him, fixed her eyes upon\nhis.\n\n\"Then the allies are in France; the war is to be brought home to\nus?\"\n\n\"Yes, Catherine; we may any day expect to see the enemy in our\nmountains.\"\n\n\"I feared it--I was sure of it--but go on, Jean-Claude.\"\n\nHullin, in a low voice, proceeded to relate all he had seen and\nheard; he told of the works around the city, the proclamation of\nthe state of siege, the wagons loaded with wounded on the Place\nd'Armes, and his meeting with the old sergeant. From time to time\nhe paused, and the old lady half-closed her eyes, as if graving\nhis words upon her memory, and when Hullin spoke of the wounded\nshe gasped:\n\n\"But Gaspard has escaped?\"\n\nAt the end of the sabot-maker's sorrowful story there was a long\npause. How many bitter thoughts were burning in the minds of\nboth! At last Catherine broke the silence:\n\n\"You see, Jean-Claude,\" said she, \"Yegof was right.\"\n\n\"He was right,\" replied Jean-Claude, \"but what does that prove?\nIt would, indeed, be astonishing if a fool--wandering, as he\ndoes, everywhere, from village to village--in Alsace, in\nLorraine--saw nothing, heard nothing; and if he should not\noccasionally utter a truth in the midst of his nonsense.\nEverything is mingled in his head, and you imagine you understand\nwhat he does not understand himself. But enough of the fool,\nCatherine. The Austrians are coming, and the question is whether\nwe shall let them pass quietly through our mountains, or defend\nourselves like mountaineers.\"\n\n\"Defend ourselves!\" cried the old woman, her pale cheeks\nflushing. \"Think you we have lost the courage of our fathers? Did\nnot the blood of their men, women, and children flow like water,\nand no one think of yielding?\"\n\n\"Then you are for defence, Catherine?\"\n\n\"Ay! while a drop of blood remains in my body. Let them come. The\nold woman will be in their path.\"\n\nHer long, gray hair in her excitement seemed to quiver upon her\nhead; her cheeks trembled and glowed, and her eyes flashed fire.\nShe seemed even full of a fierce beauty--of a beauty like that of\nMargareth of whom Yegof spoke. Hullin stretched his hand to her\nin silence.\n\n{164}\n\n\"I knew you, Catherine,\" said he with enthusiasm; \"I knew your\ntrue heart. But we must look calmly at what is before us. We\nshall fight, but how? Where are our munitions?\"\n\n\"Everywhere! axes, scythes, pitchforks--\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; but muskets and bullets are the best. Muskets we have;\nevery mountaineer's cottage has one hanging over the door; but\nwhere is our powder? where are our bullets?\"\n\nThe old woman became suddenly calm; she pushed back her hair\nbeneath her cap, and looked around thoughtfully.\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied; \"we lack powder and ball, it is true, but we\nshall have them. Marc-Dives the smuggler has plenty. You will see\nhim for me to-morrow, and tell him that Catherine Lefevre will\nbuy all that he has, and pay for it too; yes, though it cost her\nhouse, lands, and cattle--all she possesses. Do you understand,\nHullin?\"\n\n\"I do. This is splendid, Catherine!\"\n\n\"Splendid! Bah! To drive from our doors those Austrians, those\nPrussians, the red-bearded race who once already all but\nexterminated ours! They are our mortal foes! You will buy the\npowder, and the wretches will see whether their old castles are\nto be rebuilt by us!\"\n\nHullin saw that Yegof's story yet preyed upon her mind, but he\nsaid simply:\n\n\"Then it is understood. I go to Marc-Dives's to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Catherine; \"and you will buy all his powder and\nlead. You must also go to all the villages in the mountains, to\nwarn our people of the danger and agree upon a signal to be used\nin case of attack.\"\n\n\"Rest easy as to that,\" said Jean-Claude; \"it shall be my care.\"\n\nBoth had risen and turned toward the door. For half an hour past\nthe noise in the kitchen had ceased; the people of the farm had\nretired. The old woman placed her lamp on the chimney-shelf and\ndrew the bolts. The cold without was sharp, but the air clear and\nstill. The peaks around, and the fires on the Jaeger that stood\nout against the dark-blue sky in masses of silver or jet, and no\nsound broke the quiet save the short bark of a far-off fox.\n\n\"Good-night, Hullin,\" said the old woman.\n\n\"Good-night, Catherine.\"\n\nJean-Claude walked rapidly down the heath-covered slope, and his\nlate hostess, after following him for a few moments with her\neyes, closed the door.\n\nI must leave you to imagine the joy of Louise when she learned\nthat her Gaspard was safe. Hullin was careful not to mar her joy\nby a view of the dark cloud rising upon its horizon. All night he\nheard her talking to herself in her little chamber, murmuring the\nname of Gaspard, and opening drawers and boxes to find tokens he\nhad left.\n\nThus does the linnet, unmindful of the coming storm, sing in the\nfast-receding sunshine.\n\n\n Chapter V.\n\n\nWhen Jean-Claude, the next morning, pushed open his\nwindow-shutters, he saw the neighboring mountains--Jaegerthal,\nGrosmann, Donon--covered with snow. This first sight of\nwinter--when it overtakes us in our sleep--has a strange\nattraction about it. The old firs, the moss-covered rocks, were\nyesterday still clothed in their verdure, but now they glitter\nwith frost, and fill our soul with an indescribable sense of\nsadness.\n{165}\n\"Another year has passed away,\" we murmur to ourselves; \"another\nrude season must pass away before the flowers return!\" And we\nhurry to don our great-coat or to light a roaring fire. Our\nlittle retreat is full of white light, and without we hear the\nsparrows--the poor sparrows crouching beneath the eaves and\nbushes--who with ruffled feathers seem to cry, \"No breakfast this\nmorning--no breakfast!\"\n\nHullin put on his heavy double-soled shoes and his thickest\njacket. He heard Louise walking over his head in the little\ngarret.\n\n\"Louise,\" he cried, \"I am going.\"\n\n\"What! to-day again?\"\n\n\"Yes, my child; I must. My business is not yet finished.\"\n\nThen pulling his broad felt hat over his head, he went half-way\nup the stairs, and said in a low tone:\n\n\"You must not expect me back very soon, child, for I must go a\nlong way off. Do not be uneasy. If they ask you where I am gone,\nsay to Cousin Mathias, at Saverne.\"\n\n\"Will you not have some breakfast before starting?\"\n\n\"No; I have put a loaf of bread and the little flask of brandy in\nmy pocket. Farewell, my child. Be happy, and think of Gaspard.\"\n\nAnd, without waiting for more questions, he seized his staff and\nleft the cottage, directing his steps toward the hill to the left\nof the village. At the end of a quarter of an hour he had passed\nit and reached the path of the Three Fountains, which winds\naround Falkenstein by an old wall. The first snow never lasts\nlong in the damp shadows of the valleys, and it had already begun\nto melt and form a stream in the pathway. Hullin mounted the wall\nto escape the water, and throwing a glance toward the village saw\na few old women sweeping the snow from before their doors, and a\nfew old men exchanging their morning greetings and smoking their\nmorning pipes at their thresholds. He pursued his way along\ndreamily, murmuring: \"How tranquil all is there! None suspect\nthat danger is nigh, and yet in a few days what tumults, what\nshrieks, what crashing of cannon and clattering of muskets will\nfill the air!\"\n\nPowder was the first necessity, and we have seen how Catherine\nLefevre turned her thoughts to Marc-Dives the smuggler; but she\ndid not speak of his amiable helpmate, Hexe-Baizel.\n\nThe couple lived at the other side of Falkenstein, beneath the\ncliff on which the ruined castle stood. They had hollowed out for\nthemselves a very comfortable den, although it possessed but one\nentrance and two little windows, but rumor hinted that it\ncommunicated with ancient subterranean passages. These last,\nhowever, the custom-house officials were never able to discover,\nnotwithstanding several visits they made the worthy pair with\nthis object in view. Jean-Claude and Marc-Dives knew one another\nfrom infancy; they had many a time together driven the owl and\nthe hawk from their nests, and still saw one another at least\nonce a week at the saw-mill. Hullin placed full reliance upon the\nsmuggler, but he somewhat mistrusted Madame Hexe-Baizel.\n\"However,\" said he, as he neared their domicile, \"we shall see.\"\n\nHe had lighted his pipe, and from time to time turned to\ncontemplate the immense stretch of country spread out before him.\n\nNothing can be more magnificent than the view of snow-covered\nwooded mountains, rising peak after peak far into the pale-blue\nsky until sight is lost in distance, and separated by dark\nvalleys, each with its torrent flowing over mossy stones, green\nand polished like bronze.\n\n{166}\n\nAnd then the silence--the silence of winter--broken only by the\nfoot-fall on the soft, white ground, or the dash of snow falling\nfrom the higher branches of the firs to the lower, which bend\nbeneath the weight; or mayhap the shrill screams of a pair of\neagles, whirling far above the treetops, startle the ear. But all\nthis must be seen and felt; it cannot be described.\n\nAbout an hour after his departure from the village, Hullin,\nclimbing over rock after rock, reached the foot of the cliff of\nArbousiers. A sort of terrace, full of stones, and only three or\nfour feet in width, entirely surrounds this mass of granite. The\nnarrow way, itself surrounded only by the tops of trees shooting\nfrom the precipice below, seems dangerous, but is scarcely so in\nreality, for dizziness is all that is to be feared in passing\nalong it. Above the ruin-covered rock overhangs the path.\n\nJean-Claude approached the smuggler's retreat. He halted a few\nmoments upon the terrace, put his pipe back into his pocket, and\nthen advanced along the passage, which described a half-circle\nand terminated in a notch in the rock. At its end he perceived\nthe two windows of the cave and the half-open door.\n\nAt the same moment Hexe-Baizel appeared, sweeping the threshold\nwith a huge broom of green twigs. She was short and withered; her\nhead covered with a mass of dishevelled red hair, her cheeks\nhollow, her nose pointed, her little eyes glittering like burning\ncoals, her mouth small and garnished with very white teeth. Her\ncostume consisted of a short and very dirty woollen gown, and her\nsmall, muscular arms were bare to the elbow, notwithstanding the\nintense cold of winter at such a height; a pair of worn-out\nslippers half-covered her feet.\n\n\"Ha! good-morning, Hexe-Baizel,\" cried Jean-Claude, in a tone of\ngood-natured raillery. \"Stout, fat, happy, and contented as\nusual, I see.\"\n\nHexe-Baizel turned like a startled weasel. She shook her hair,\nand her eyes flashed fire. But she calmed herself at once, and\nsaid, in a short, dry voice, as if speaking to herself:\n\n\"Hullin the sabot-maker! What does he want here?\"\n\n\"I want to see my friend Marc, beautiful Hexe-Baizel,\" replied\nJean-Claude. \"We have business together.\"\n\n\"What business?\"\n\n\"Ah! that is our affair. Come, let me pass; I must speak to-him.\"\n\n\"Marc is asleep.\"\n\n\"Well, we must wake him. Time presses.\"\n\nSo saying, Hullin bent beneath the door-way, and entered the\ncave, which was irregular in shape and seamed with numerous\nfissures in its walls. Near the entrance the rock, rising\nsuddenly, formed a sort of natural hearth, on which burned a few\ncoals and some branches of the juniper. The cooking utensils of\nHexe-Baizel consisted of an iron pot, an earthen jar, two cracked\nplates, and three or four pewter forks; her furniture, of a\nwooden stool, a hatchet to split wood, a salt-box fastened to the\nrocky wall, and her great broom of green twigs. At the right, her\nkitchen opened upon another cavern by an irregularly shaped\naperture wider at the top than below, and closed by two planks\nand a cross-bar.\n\n\"Well, where is Marc?\" asked Hullin, seating himself at the\ncorner of the hearth.\n\n{167}\n\n\"I have already told you that he is asleep. He came home very\nlate last night, and he must not be disturbed; do you\nunderstand?\"\n\n\"I understand very well, Hexe-Baizel, but I have no time to\nwait.\"\n\n\"Then leave as soon as you please.\"\n\n\"That is very fine, but I don't intend to leave just yet. I did\nnot make this journey to return empty handed.\"\n\n\"Is that you, Hullin?\" interrupted a rough voice in the inner\ncavern.\n\n\"Ay, Marc.\"\n\n\"Wait a moment, I am coming.\"\n\nA noise of rustling straw was heard, then the planks were\nremoved, and a tall man, three feet at least from shoulder to\nshoulder, bony, bent, with ears and neck of a dull brick color\nand disordered brown hair, bent in the aperture, and then\nMarc-Dives stood erect before Hullin, gaping and stretching his\nlong arms.\n\nAt first sight the countenance of Marc-Dives seemed mild enough;\nhis broad, low forehead, temples only thinly covered with hair,\npointed nose, long chin, and calm, brown eyes would seem to\nbetoken the quiet, easy-going man, but one who should so class\nhim would sooner or later discover his mistake. Rumor said that\nMarc-Dives had little scruple in using his axe or carbine when\nthe custom-house officials invaded his premises, but proofs were\nwanting. The smuggler, thanks to his complete knowledge of all\nthe defiles of the mountain, and of all the roads from Dagsbourg\nto Sarrebr\u00fcck, from Raon l'Etape to B\u00e2le in Switzerland, always\nseemed twenty miles from the place where such conflicts occurred.\nThen he had such a harmless air--in short, the rumors against\nhim inevitably recoiled upon those who started them.\n\n\"I was thinking of you last night, Hullin,\" cried Marc, coming\nout of his den, \"and if you hadn't come I should have gone all\nthe way to the saw-mill to meet you. Sit down. Hexe-Baizel, give\nHullin a chair.\"\n\nHe himself sat upon the wide hearth, with his back to the fire,\nopposite the open door, around which blew the winds of Alsace and\nof Switzerland.\n\nThe view through the narrow opening was magnificent--a\nrock-framed picture, but how grand a one! There lay the whole\nvalley of the Rhine, and beyond the mountains melting into mist.\nThe air, too, was so fresh and pure, and when the blue expanse\nwithout tired the eyes, the little fire within, with its red,\ndancing flames, was there to relieve them.\n\n\"Marc,\" said Hullin, after a moment's silence, \"can I speak\nbefore your wife?\"\n\n\"It is the same as speaking to me alone.\"\n\n\"Well. I have come to buy powder and lead of you.\"\n\n\"To shoot hares, I suppose,\" returned the smuggler, half-closing\nhis eye and gazing keenly at Jean-Claude.\n\n\"No; to fight the Germans and the Russians.\"\n\nThere was another silence.\n\n\"And you want a good deal, I suppose.\"\n\n\"As much as you can furnish.\"\n\n\"I can furnish three thousand francs' worth to-day,\" said the\nsmuggler.\n\n\"I will take it.\"\n\n\"And as much more in a week,\" continued Marc calmly, still gazing\nsteadily at his friend.\n\n\"I will take it.\"\n\n\"You will take it!\" cried Hexe-Baizel--\"you will take it! I\nbelieve you, but who will pay for it?\"\n\n\"Silence!\" said Marc roughly.\n\n{168}\n\n\"Hullin will take it; his word is enough.\"\n\nThen, stretching out his broad hand to the sabot-maker, he\nexclaimed:\n\n\"Jean-Claude, here is my hand! The powder and lead are yours; but\nI wish to stand my share of the expense. Do you understand?\"\n\n\"Yes, Marc, but I intend to pay at once.\"\n\n\"He will pay himself,\" cried Hexe-Baizel. \"Do you hear?\"\n\n\"Am I deaf? Baizel, go fetch us a bottle of\n_Brimbelle-wasser_ to warm us. What Hullin tells me fills me\nwith joy. Those beggarly _Kaiserliks_ won't have things go\nas easily as they imagine. Our people will defend themselves, and\nwell!\"\n\n\"They will! they will!\"\n\n\"And there are those among them who will pay for what is needed.\"\n\n\"Catherine Lefevre will pay, and it is she who sends me here,\"\nsaid Hullin.\n\nThen Marc arose, and, extending his hand toward the precipice,\nexclaimed:\n\n\"She is a woman among a thousand. Her soul is as great as yonder\nrock, Oxenstein. Never saw I a grander. I drink to her health.\nDrink too, Jean-Claude.\"\n\nHullin drank, and Hexe-Baizel followed the example.\n\n\"The bargain is made,\" cried Dives; \"but, Hullin, it will not be\neasy to beat back the foe! All the hunters, the workmen, and the\nwood-cutters in the mountain will not be too many. I have just\ncome from beyond the Rhine. The earth is black with Russians,\nAustrians, Bavarians, Prussians, Cossacks, hussars. The villages\ncannot contain them, and they are encamped upon the plains, in\nthe valleys, on the heights, in the cities, everywhere,\neverywhere!\"\n\nA sharp cry pierced the air.\n\n\"It is a buzzard chasing its prey,\" said Marc.\n\nAt the same instant a shadow passed over the rock. A cloud of\nchaffinches and small birds swept over the cave, and hundreds of\nbuzzards and hawks dashed on above them, with loud screams. So\ndense and broad was the feathered mass, that it seemed almost\nimmovable while the fluttering of so many thousand wings sounded\nlike dead leaves driving before the wind.\n\n\"It is the birds leaving Ardennes,\" said Hullin.\n\n\"Yes, the last of them. Their corn and seeds are buried in the\nsnow. But there are more men in the enemy's armies than birds\nyonder. No matter, Jean-Claude; France will live though the world\nassail her. Hexe-Baizel, light the lantern; I wish to show\nJean-Claude our stock of ammunition.\"\n\nHexe-Baizel could not willingly obey this command.\n\n\"No one,\" said she, \"has been in the cave for twenty years. He\ncan as well take your word for it. We take his for payment. I\nwill not light the lantern--not I!\"\n\nMarc, without saying a word, stretched forth his hand and grasped\na stout stick. The old woman, trembling in every limb,\ndisappeared like a ferret through a small aperture, and in a\nmoment returned with a large horn lantern, which Dives tranquilly\nlighted at the hearth.\n\n\"Baizel,\" said he, replacing the stick, \"you know that\nJean-Claude is my friend, and has been since we were boys, and\nthat I would trust him much sooner than I would you, old snarler;\nfor you know well that if you did not fear being hung the same\nday, I would long since have danced at the end of a rope. Come,\nHullin, follow me.\"\n\n{169}\n\nThey went out together, and the smuggler, turning to the left,\nkept on toward the notch, which projected over the Valtin two\nhundred feet in the air. He pushed aside the foliage of a stunted\noak, and then disappeared as if hurled into the abyss.\nJean-Claude trembled, but he saw at the same moment Dives's head\nadvancing along the wall of rock. The smuggler called out:\n\n\"Hullin, place your hand on the left side; there is a hole there;\nstretch out your foot boldly; you will feel a step, and then turn\nupon your heel.\"\n\nMaster Jean-Claude obeyed, not without fear and trembling; he\nfelt the hole in the rock, found the step, and, turning half-way\naround, presently stood face to face with his friend in a niche\nwhich must formerly have belonged to some postern. At the end of\nthe niche a low vault opened.\n\n\"How in the world was this discovered?\" cried the wondering\nHullin.\n\n\"I came on it while hunting for nests, thirty-five years ago. I\nhad often seen a magnificent eagle with his mate upon this rock;\nthey were splendid birds, full six feet across the wings. I heard\nthe cries of their young beyond the notch, and, after many a\ntrial, found myself here. What a battle we had! They tried to\ntear my eyes out, and when I killed them I cleared their nest of\nthe bones that lay there after I had twisted the necks of the\nyoung; then I kept on, and you shall see what I found. Come.\"\n\nThey glided together beneath the low and narrow vault, formed of\nenormous red stones, over which the lantern threw a sickly glare.\n\nAt the end of about thirty steps a vast circular cave, formed\nfrom the living rock, appeared, on the floor of which were\nperhaps fifty piles of little kegs, and on the sides a great\nnumber of bars of lead and bags of tobacco. The air of the cavern\nwas strongly impregnated with the strong odor of the last.\n\nMarc placed his lantern at the entrance and gazed around with a\nwell-satisfied smile.\n\n\"Here is what I found,\" said he, \"only the cave was empty, save\nthat in the middle of the floor yonder lay the skeleton of an\nanimal--of a fox, which had probably died there of old age. The\nrogue had discovered the way before I did, and he could sleep in\nsafety here. At that time, Jean-Claude, I was twelve years of\nage. I thought then that the place might some day be useful to\nme, I knew not how; but afterward, when I made my first essays at\nmy trade with Jacob Zimmer, and when for two winters the revenue\nofficers were on our track, the remembrance of my cave returned.\nI had made the acquaintance of Hexe-Baizel, who was a servant at\nthe farm of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, then owned by Catherine's father. She\nbrought me twenty-five louis by way of dowry, and we set up our\nestablishment in this cavern of the Arbousiers.\"\n\nDives was silent, and Hullin asked:\n\n\"You like this den, then?\"\n\n\"Like it! I would not change it for the finest house in\nStrasbourg. For twenty-three years have I kept my goods\nhere--sugar, coffee, powder, tobacco, brandy--and no one the\nwiser. I have eight horses always on the road.\"\n\n\"But you enjoy nothing of your wealth.\"\n\n\"Enjoy nothing! Think you there is no pleasure in mocking and\noutwitting the police--in defying the shrewd officials of the\ncustom-house? And, besides, the people all love you; you sell at\nhalf-price; you are the benefactor of the poor.\"\n\n{170}\n\n\"But the danger!\"\n\n\"Bah! What revenue officer would dare come here?\"\n\n\"I believe you,\" muttered Hullin, as he thought that he must\nagain brave the precipice.\n\n\"But I am used to it,\" continued the smuggler, \"although, when I\nfirst made my way hither with a cask on my shoulder, my heart\nfluttered as it had not for many a day before.\"\n\nHe took up the lantern and held it so that the light might fall\nupon the heaps of kegs.\n\n\"It is fine English powder,\" said he; \"it rolls like grains of\nsilver in your hand, and is strong as fate. A little goes a long\nway; a thimbleful is enough for a charge. And there is lead that\nEurope cannot beat. This evening, Hexe-Baizel shall run some into\nballs. She knows how, as you shall see.\"\n\nThey turned to leave the cavern, when suddenly a confused noise\nof voices was borne upon the air. Marc instantly blew out the\nlantern, and the two men were in a moment plunged in darkness.\n\n\"There is some one above,\" whispered the smuggler. \"Who in the\nfiend's name could have climbed Falkenstein in the snow?\"\n\nThey listened breathlessly, their eyes fixed upon a ray of\npale-blue light which descended through a narrow fissure in the\ntop of the cave. Around this opening hung glittering spars of\nfrost; above it could be seen the crest of a ruined wall. While\nthey gazed thus in profound silence, a head shaggy with\ndisordered hair, a glittering circlet binding the brow, the face\nlong and ending in a pointed red beard--all sharply outlined\nagainst the white wintry sky--became visible.\n\n\"It is the King of Diamonds!\" cried Marc, laughing.\n\n\"Poor wretch,\" murmured Hullin; \"he is making a progress to his\ncastles, his bare feet upon the frozen ground, and his tin crown\nprotecting his head from the cold. Look, Dives, he is giving\norders to the knights of his court; he stretches his sceptre\nnorth and south--all is his. Poor wretch, he makes me shiver to\nsee him with nothing but his dog-skin robe around him.\"\n\n\"He makes me think,\" laughed the smuggler, \"of some\nround-paunched burgomaster, or village mayor, rolling back in his\nchair as he dilates upon his wealth: 'H'm, I am Hans Aden; I have\nten acres of fine meadow-land; I have two houses, a vine, my\norchard, my garden--h'm, I have this, that, and the other.' The\nnext day a colic seizes him, and then, good-night! We are fools,\nall of us. Come, Hullin, after all, the sight of that miserable\ncreature talking to the winds and of his famine-stricken crow\nmakes my teeth chatter too.\"\n\nThey passed on to the entrance of the vault, and the glare of day\nbreaking suddenly upon them dazzled Hullin. The tall form of his\ncompanion guided him, however, and he pressed on after him.\n\n\"Step firmly,\" said Marc, \"and do as you see me; your right hand\nin the hole, right foot on the step, half a turn, and here we\nare!\"\n\nThey returned to the kitchen, where Hexe-Baizel told them that\nYegof was among the ruins.\n\nAt the same moment the raven sailed past the door over the abyss,\nand uttered its hoarse cry; they heard the frozen heather bend\nbeneath steps, and the fool appeared on the narrow terrace; he\nwas wan and haggard, and cried, looking toward the fire:\n\n{171}\n\n\"Marc-Dives, try to leave this soon; I warn you. The\nfortifications of my domains must be free from such vermin. Take\nyour measures accordingly.\"\n\nThen perceiving Jean-Claude, he knit his brows.\n\n\"Thou here, Hullin?\" said he. \"Art thou yet far-sighted enough to\naccept the proposals I deigned to make thee? Knowest thou that\nthe alliance I offered is the only means of saving thyself from\nthe destruction that broods upon thy race?\"\n\nHullin could not avoid laughing.\n\n\"No, Yegof,\" he replied; \"my sight is not yet clear enough; it is\ndazed by the honor you offer me. But Louise is not yet old enough\nto marry.\"\n\nThe fool seemed at once to grow more gloomy and thoughtful. He\nstood at the edge of the terrace, his back to the abyss, as if in\nhis own hall, and the whirling of the raven around his head\ndisturbed him not in the least.\n\nAt length he raised his sceptre, and said, frowning:\n\n\"I have twice demanded her, Hullin; twice thou hast dared to\nrefuse me. Once more shall the demand be renewed--but once--dost\nhear?--and then the decrees of fate shall be accomplished.\"\n\nAnd turning upon his heel, with a firm step and haughty carriage,\nnotwithstanding the steepness of the descent, he passed down the\nrocky path.\n\nHullin, Marc-Dives, and even the acrid Hexe-Baizel, burst into\npeals of laughter.\n\n\"He is a fool!\" said Hexe-Baizel.\n\n\"I think you are not altogether wrong,\" sneered the smuggler.\n\"Poor Yegof is losing his head entirely. But listen, Baizel; you\nwill begin at once to cast bullets of all calibres; I am off for\nSwitzerland. In a week, at latest, the remainder of our munitions\nwill be here. Give me my boots.\"\n\nDrawing on the last, and wrapping a thick red woollen scarf about\nhis neck, the smuggler took from a hook on the wall a herdsman's\ndark-green coat which he threw over his shoulders; then, covering\nhis head with a broad felt hat and seizing a cudgel, he cried:\n\n\"Do not forget what I say, old woman, or if you do, beware!\nForward, Jean-Claude!\"\n\nHullin followed his host without even bidding Hexe-Baizel\nfarewell, and she, for her part, deigned not to see her departing\nguest to the door. When they had reached the foot of the cliff,\nDives stopped, saying:\n\n\"You are going to the mountain villages, are you not, Hullin?\"\n\n\"Yes; I must give the alarm.\"\n\n\"Do not forget Materne of Hengst and his two sons, and Labarbe of\nDagsbourg, and Jerome of Saint-Quirin. Tell them there will be\npowder and ball in plenty; that Catherine Lefevre and I,\nMarc-Dives, will see to it.\"\n\n\"Fear not, Marc; I know my men.\"\n\nThey shook hands warmly and parted, the smuggler wending his way\nto the right toward Donon, Hullin taking the path to the left\ntoward the Sarre.\n\nThe distance was rapidly widening between them, when Hullin\ncalled out:\n\n\"Halloo, Marc! Tell Catherine, as you pass, that all goes well,\nand that I have gone among the villages.\"\n\nThe other replied by a nod, and the two pursued their different\nways.\n\n{172}\n\n Chapter VI.\n\n\nAn unusual agitation reigned along the entire line of the Vosges;\nrumors of the coming invasion spread from village to village.\nPedlars, wagoners, tinkers, all that wandering population which\nis constantly floating from mountain to plain, from plain to\nmountain, brought each day budgets of strange news from Alsace\nand the banks of the Rhine. They said that every town was being\nput in a state of defence; that the roads to Metz, to Nancy,\nHuningue, and Strasbourg, were black with army and provision\nwagons. On every side were to be seen caissons of powder, shells,\nand shot, and cavalry, infantry, and artillery hurrying to their\nposts. Marshal Victor, with twelve thousand men, yet held the\nSaverne road, but the draw-bridges of all the fortified towns\nwere raised from seven in the evening until eight in the morning.\n\nThings looked gloomy enough, but the greater number thought only\nof defending their homes, and Jean-Claude was everywhere well\nreceived.\n\nThe same day, at about five in the evening, he reached the top of\nHengst, and stopped at the dwelling of the hunter-patriarch, old\nMaterne. There he passed the night; for in winter the days are\nshort and the roads difficult. Materne promised to keep watch\nover the defile of Zorn, with his two sons, Kasper and Frantz,\nand to respond to the first signal that should be made from\nFalkenstein.\n\nEarly the next day, Jean-Claude arrived at Dagsbourg to see his\nfriend Labarbe the wood-cutter. They went together to the hamlets\naround, to light in all hearts the love of country. Labarbe\naccompanied Hullin to the cottage of the Anabaptist Nickel, a\ngrave and respectable man, but they could not draw him into their\nglorious enterprise. He had but one reply to all their arguments.\n\"It is well,\" he said; \"it is doubtless right; but the Scriptures\nsay that he who takes up the sword shall perish by the sword.\" He\npromised, however, to pray for the good cause, and that was all\nthey could obtain of him.\n\nThey went thence to Walsch, where they found Daniel Hirsch, an\nancient gunner in the navy, who promised to bring with him all\nthe men of his commune.\n\nHere Labarbe left Jean-Claude to pursue his route alone.\n\nFor a week more our brave friend wandered over the mountains,\nfrom Soldatenthal to Leonsberg, from Meienthal to Voyer, Cirey,\nPetit-Mont, Saint-Sauveur, and the ninth day he found himself at\nthe shoemaker Jerome's, at Saint-Quirin. They visited together\nthe defile of Blanru, after which Hullin, entirely satisfied with\nthe results of his journey, turned once more toward his village.\n\nSince two o'clock in the afternoon he had been pressing on at a\nbrisk pace, thinking of the life of the camp, the bivouac, the\ncrash of battle, marches and countermarches--all those details of\na soldier's life which he regretted so often and which he now\nlooked forward to with ardor. The twilight shadows had begun to\nfall when he discovered the village of Charmes, afar off, with\nits little cottages, from which curled wreaths of light-blue\nsmoke, scarcely perceptible against the snow-covered\nmountain-side, its little gardens with their fences, its\nslate-covered roofs, and to the left the great farm-house of\nBois-de-Ch\u00eanes, and below, in the already dark ravine, the\nsaw-mill of Valtin.\n\nAnd then, without his knowing why, a sadness filled his heart.\n\n{173}\n\nHe slackened his steps; thoughts of the calm, peaceful life he\nwas losing, perhaps for ever, floated through his mind; he saw\nhis little room, so warm in winter and so gay in spring, when he\nopened his window to the breezes from the woods; he heard the\nnever-changing tick of the village clock; and he thought of\nLouise--his good little Louise--spinning in silence, her eyes\ncast down, or, mayhap, singing in her pure, clear voice at\nevening. Everything in his home arose before his eyes: the tools\nof his trade, his long, glittering chisels, the hatchet with the\ncrooked handle, the porringers of glazed earthenware, the antique\nfigure of Saint Michael nailed to the wall, the old curtained bed\nin the alcove, the lamp with the copper beak--all were before\nhim, and the tears forced their way to his eyes.\n\nBut it was to Louise--his dear child, his Louise--that his\nthoughts turned oftenest. How she would weep and implore him not\nto expose himself to the dangers of war! How she would hang upon\nhis neck and beg him not to leave her! He saw her large,\naffrighted eyes; he felt her arms around him. He would fain\ndeceive her, but deceit was no part of Jean-Claude's character;\nhis words only deepened her grief.\n\nHe tried to shake off his gloom, and, passing by the farm of\nBois-de-Ch\u00eanes, he entered to tell Catherine that all went well,\nand that the mountaineers only awaited the signal.\n\nFifteen minutes later, Master Jean-Claude stood before his own\ndoor.\n\nBefore opening it, he glanced through the window to see what\nLouise might be doing. She was standing in the alcove, and seemed\nbusily arranging and rearranging some garments that lay upon the\nbed. Her face beamed with happiness, her eyes sparkled, and she\nwas talking to herself aloud. Hullin listened, but the rattling\nof a passing wagon prevented his hearing her words.\n\nHe pushed open the door and entered, saying:\n\n\"Louise, here I am back!\"\n\nShe bounded like a fawn to him and threw her arms around his\nneck, exclaiming:\n\n\"It is you, Father Jean-Claude! How I have been waiting for you!\nHow long you were gone! But you are home again, at last.\"\n\n\"My child--many things\"--said the good man, putting away his\nstaff behind the door--\"many things kept--\"\n\nBut his heart was too full; he could say no more.\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know,\" cried Louise, laughing. \"Mother Lefevre told\nme all.\"\n\n\"How is that! You know all and only laugh? Well, it proves your\ngood sense. I expected to see you weep.\"\n\n\"Weep? And why, Father Jean-Claude? Oh! never fear for me; I am\nbrave. You do not know me.\"\n\nHer air was so prettily resolute that Hullin could not help\nsmiling; but his smile quickly disappeared when she added:\n\n\"We are going to have war; we are going to fight, to defend the\nmountains!\"\n\n\"_We_ are going! _We_ are going!\" exclaimed the good\nman, astounded.\n\n\"Certainly. Are we not?\" she asked, her smile disappearing at\nonce.\n\n\"I must leave you for some time, my child.\"\n\n\"Leave me? Oh! no, no. I will go with you; it is agreed. See, my\nlittle bundle is all ready, and I am making up yours. Do not be\nuneasy; let me fix everything, and you will be satisfied.\"\n\nHullin stood stupefied.\n\n\"But, Louise,\" he cried, \"you are dreaming. Think, my child! We\nmust pass long winter nights without a roof to cover us; we must\nbear hardship, fatigue, cold, snow, hunger, and countless\ndangers! A musket-ball would mar my pretty bird's beauty.\"\n\n{174}\n\n\"You are only trying your little Louise,\" cried she, now in\ntears, and flinging herself upon his neck. \"You will not leave me\nhere alone.\"\n\n\"But you will be better here; you will have a good fire and food.\nBesides, you will receive news of us every day.\"\n\n\"No, no! I will go with you; I care not for cold. And I have been\nshut up here too long; I want the fresh air. The birds are out;\nthe redbreasts are out all winter; and did I not know what hunger\nwas when a child? Mother Lefevre says I may go; and will you whom\nI love so much be more cruel than she?\"\n\nBrave Jean-Claude sat down, his heart full of bitter sorrow. He\nturned away his head that she might not see the struggle going on\nwithin, while Louise eagerly continued:\n\n\"I will be safe; I will follow you. The cold! What is the cold to\nme? And if you should be wounded--if you should wish to see your\nlittle Louise for the last time, and she not be near to take care\nof you--to love you to the last! Oh! you must think me\nhard-hearted!\"\n\nShe sobbed; Hullin could hold out no longer.\n\n\"Is it indeed true that Mother Lefevre consents?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes, yes, oh! yes, she told me so; she said, 'Try to get Father\nJean-Claude to let you; I am satisfied.'\"\n\n\"Well,\" said the sabot-maker, smiling sadly, \"I can do little\nagainst two. You shall come! It is agreed.\"\n\nThe cottage echoed with her cry of joy, and with one sweep of her\nhand her tears were dried, and her face, like an April sky,\nbeamed in smiles.\n\n\"You are a little gypsy still,\" cried Hullin, shaking his head.\n\"Go trap a swallow.\"\n\nThen, drawing her to him, he continued:\n\n\"Look you, Louise: it is now twelve years since I found you in\nthe snow. You were blue with the cold, poor child; and when I\nbrought you to the fire and warmed you, the first thing you did\nwas to smile at me, and since that day your smile has ruled old\nJean-Claude. But let us look at our bundles,\" said the good man\nwith a sigh. \"Are they well fastened?\"\n\nHe approached the bed, and saw in wonder his warmest coats, his\nflannel jackets, all well brushed, well folded, and well packed.\nThen in Louise's bundle were her best dresses and her thick\nshoes. He could not restrain a laugh, as he cried:\n\n\"O gypsy, gypsy! It takes you to pack up.\"\n\nLouise smiled.\n\n\"Then you are satisfied with them?\" she asked.\n\n\"I must be; but in the midst of all this fine work, you did not\nthink, I'll wager, of getting ready my supper.\"\n\n\"That is soon done,\" said she, \"although I did not know you would\nreturn to-night, Papa Jean-Claude.\"\n\n\"That is true; but get something ready quickly; no matter what,\nfor my appetite is sharp. In the meantime I will smoke a pipe.\"\n\n\"Yes, smoke a pipe.\"\n\nHe sat at the corner of his work-bench and drummed dreamily upon\nit. Louise flew to right and left like a veritable fairy,\nkindling up the fire, breaking eggs, and in the twinkle of an eye\nshe had an omelette ready. Never had she looked so graceful, so\njoyous, so pretty. Hullin leaned his cheek upon his hand and\ngazed at her gravely, thinking how much firmness, will,\nresolution, there was in that little form, light as an antelope,\nbut decided as a cuirassier. In a moment she had laid the\nomelette before him on a large plate, ornamented with blue\nflowers, a loaf of bread, his glass, and his bottle of wine.\n\n{175}\n\n\"There, Father Jean-Claude, eat your supper.\"\n\nThe fire leaped and crackled in the stove, throwing ruddy stains\non the low rafters, the stairs half in shadow and the large bed\nin the alcove, and lighting up the poor dwelling so often made\njoyous by the merry humor of the sabot-maker and the songs of his\ndaughter. And Louise would leave all this without regret to brave\nthe wintry woods, the snow-covered paths, and the steep\nmountain-side, and all for love of him. Neither storm, nor biting\nwind, nor torrents staid her. She had but one thought, and that\nwas to be near him.\n\nThe repast ended, Hullin arose, saying:\n\n\"I am weary, my child; kiss me for good-night.\"\n\n\"But do not forget to awake me, Father Jean-Claude, if you start\nbefore daybreak.\"\n\n\"Rest easy; you will come with us,\" he answered, as he climbed\nthe narrow stairs.\n\nAll was silence without, save that the deep tones of the village\nclock told the hour of eleven. Jean-Claude sat down and\nunfastened his shoes. Just then his eyes fell upon his musket\nhung over the door. He took it down, slowly wiped it, and tried\nthe lock. His whole soul was in the work in which he was engaged.\n\n\"It is strange--strange! The last time I fired it was at\nMarengo--fourteen years ago, and it seems but yesterday.\"\n\nSuddenly the frozen snow crunched beneath a foot-fall. He\nlistened. Two taps sounded upon the window-panes. He ran and\nopened the door, and the form of Marc-Dives, his broad hat stiff\nwith ice, emerged from the darkness.\n\n\"Marc! What news?\"\n\n\"Have you warned Materne, Jerome, Labarbe?\"\n\n\"Yes, all.\"\n\n\"It is none too soon; the enemy are advancing.\"\n\n\"Advancing?\"\n\n\"Yes; along their whole line. I have come fifteen leagues since\nmorning to give you warning.\"\n\n\"Good. We must make the signal: a fire upon Falkenstein.\"\n\nHullin's face was pale, but his eyes flashed. He again put on his\nshoes, and two minutes after, with his cloak upon his shoulders\nand his staff firmly clinched in his hand, he opened the door\nsoftly, and with long steps followed Marc-Dives along the path to\nFalkenstein.\n\n\n Chapter VII.\n\n\nFrom midnight until six o'clock in the morning a flame shone\nthrough the darkness from the summit of Falkenstein.\n\nAll Hullin's friends, and those of Marc-Dives and Mother Lefevre,\nwith high gaiters bound around their legs, and old muskets upon\ntheir shoulders, trooped in the silence of the woods to the\ngorges of the Valtin. The thought of the enemy pouring over the\nplains of Alsace to surprise their glens and defiles nerved every\nheart and arm. The tocsin at Dagsbourg, at Walsch, and at\nSaint-Quirin ceased not to call the country's defenders to arms.\n\nImagine the Jaegerthal, at the foot of the old _burg_, in\nthe early morning hour, when the giant arms of the trees begin to\nbreak through the shadows, and when the approach of day softens\nsomewhat the intense cold of the night. The snow lies deep upon\nthe ground.\n{176}\nImagine the old saw-pit with its flat roof, its heavy wheel\nglittering with icicles; a fire of sawdust shining from within,\nbut paling before the morning twilight, and around the fire fur\ncaps and slouched hats and dark faces crowded together; further\non, in the woods, and along the winding valley, were other fires\nlighting up groups of men and women seated on the snow.\n\nAs the sky grew brighter friends began to recognize each other.\n\n\"Hold! There is Cousin Daniel of Soldatenthal. You here too?\"\n\n\"As you see, Heinrich, and my wife too.\"\n\n\"What! Cousin Nanette! But where is she?\"\n\n\"Yonder, by the large oak, at Uncle Hans's fire.\"\n\nThey clasp each other's hand. Some slept, some piled branches and\nbroken planks upon the fires. Flasks passed around, and those who\nhad warmed themselves made way for their shivering neighbors. But\nimpatience was gaining upon the crowd.\n\n\"Ah!\" cried one, \"we have not come here only to stretch our legs.\nIt is time to look around, to agree upon our movements.\"\n\n\"Yes! yes! let us organize and elect our leaders!\" cried many.\n\n\"No; all are not yet here. They are yet coming from Dagsbourg and\nSaint-Quirin,\" replied others.\n\nIndeed, as day advanced, the pathways of the mountain seemed full\nof people. There were already some hundreds in the\nvalley--wood-cutters, charcoal-burners, and others--without\ncounting the women and children.\n\nNothing could be more picturesque than that halt in the snow, at\nthe bottom of a defile covered to the clouds with high firs; to\nthe right, valley following valley as far as the eye could reach;\nto the left, the ruins of Falkenstein, reaching, as it seemed, to\nthe sky; and before you groups of thickly bearded men with gloomy\nbrows, broad square shoulders, and hands callous from labor. Some\nof them, taller than their fellows, were red-haired and\nwhite-skinned, and seemed strong as the oaks of the forest. Of\nthis number were old Materne of Hengst and his two sons, Frantz\nand Kasper. These three, armed with short Innspruck rifles, their\nhigh gaiters of blue canvas with leather buttons reaching above\nthe knee, their bodies covered with hare-skin jackets, and their\nslouched hats pushed far back upon their heads, did not deign to\napproach the fire. Since one o'clock they had sat upon the felled\ntrunk of a fir by the border of the brook, their eyes constantly\non the watch, and their feet buried in the snow. From time to\ntime the old man would say to his sons:\n\n\"What are they shivering for yonder? I never saw a milder night\nat this season; it is a fine hunting night; the brooks are not\nyet frozen.\"\n\nEvery hunter as he passed pressed their hands, and then joined\nhis fellows, who formed a separate band, among whom but few words\npassed, for silence is one of the great virtues of the chase.\n\nMarc-Dives, standing in the middle of another group, over whom he\ntowered by a head, talked and gesticulated, now pointing to one\npart of the mountain, now to another. Opposite him was the old\nherdsman Lagarmitte, in his gray smock-frock, his dog at his\nside. He was listening open-mouthed to the smuggler, and from\ntime to time gravely nodded his head. The remainder of the group\nwas composed of wood-cutters and workmen with whom Marc had daily\ndealings.\n\n{177}\n\nBetween the saw-pit and the first fire sat the shoemaker Jerome\nof Saint-Quirin, a man between fifty and sixty years of age; his\neyes were sunken, his face long and brown, and his yellow beard\ndescended to his waist; his head was covered with an otter-skin\ncap; and as he leaned forward upon a heavy knotted staff, in his\nlong woollen great-coat, he might easily have been mistaken for\nsome hermit of the wilds. Whenever any one approached with news,\nFather Jerome slowly turned his head and listened with bent\nbrows.\n\nJean Labarbe sat motionless, his elbow resting upon his\naxe-helve. He was a pale man, with an aquiline nose and thin\nlips, and exercised a great influence over the men of Dagsbourg\nby the resolution and force of his character. When those around\nhim cried out for action, he simply said, \"Wait; Hullin has not\narrived yet, nor Catherine Lefevre. There is no hurry,\" and all\naround became quiet.\n\nPiorette, a little, dry, thin, energetic man, with eyebrows\nmeeting over his nose, and a short pipe between his teeth, sat at\nthe threshold of the saw-mill, and gazed with a quick but\nthoughtful eye at the scene.\n\nNevertheless, the impatience increased every minute. A few\nvillage mayors in cocked hats called upon their people to\ndeliberate. Happily the wagon of Catherine Lefevre at last\nappeared, and a thousand enthusiastic shouts arose on all sides.\n\n\"Here they are! They have come!\"\n\nOld Materne stood up upon the trunk of a tree and then descended,\ngravely saying:\n\n\"It is they.\"\n\nMuch excitement now prevailed; the scattered groups collected.\nScarcely could the old woman be seen distinctly, seated upon a\ntruss of straw with Louise by her side, when the echoes rang with\nthe cry:\n\n\"Long live France! Long live Mother Catherine!\"\n\nHullin, behind, his musket strapped upon his back, was crossing\nthe field of Eichmath, grasping hands and saluting his friends:\n\n\"Is it you, Daniel? Good-morning, Colon!\"\n\n\"Ha! Things look stormy, Hullin.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; we shall soon have lively times. You here, old Jerome!\nWhat think you of the state of affairs?\"\n\n\"All will yet go well, Jean-Claude, with God's help.\"\n\nCatherine, when she arrived in front of the saw-mill, ordered\nLabarbe to open the little cask of brandy she had brought from\nthe farm-house. Hullin, approaching the fire, met Materne and his\ntwo sons.\n\n\"You come late,\" said the old hunter.\n\n\"True, but there was much to be done, and too much yet remains to\nbe done to lose more time. Lagarmitte, wind your horn.\"\n\nLagarmitte blew until his cheeks seemed bursting, and the groups\nscattered along the path, and at the skirts of the wood hastened\nto assemble, and soon all were collected before the saw-mill.\nHullin mounted a pile of logs, and spoke amid the deepest\nsilence:\n\n\"The enemy,\" said he, \"crossed the Rhine the night before last.\nHe is pressing on to our mountains to enter Lorraine. Strasbourg\nand Huningue are blockaded. In three or four days at most the\nGermans and the Russians will be upon us.\"\n\nA shout of \"Long live France!\" arose.\n\n\"Ay, long live France!\" cried Jean-Claude; \"for, if the allies\nreach Paris, all our liberties are gone! Forced labor, tithes,\nprivileges, and gibbets will flourish once more. If you wish that\nthey should, let the allies pass.\"\n\n{178}\n\nA dark scowl seemed to settle on every man's face.\n\n\"I have said what I have to say!\" cried Hullin, pale with\nemotion. \"As you are here, you are here to fight!\"\n\n\"Ay, to fight!\"\n\n\"It is well; but one word more. I would not deceive you; I see\namong you fathers of families. We will be one against\nten--against fifty. We must expect to perish! Therefore, let\nthose whose hearts may grow faint ere the end comes, go. All are\nfree!\"\n\nEach in the crowd looked round to see his neighbors' faces, but\nno one left his place. Jean-Claude spoke in a firmer tone:\n\n\"No one moves! All are ready for battle! A chief--a leader--must\nbe named, for in times of danger everything depends on order and\ndiscipline. He whom you shall appoint must be obeyed in all\nthings. Reflect well, for on him depends the fate of every one of\nus.\"\n\nSo saying, Jean-Claude descended from his tribune, and earnest\nvoices began at once to whisper in the crowd. Every village\ndeliberated separately; each mayor proposed his man; time passed;\nCatherine Lefevre burned with anxiety and impatience. At length\nshe could contain herself no longer, and rising upon her seat she\nmade a sign that she wished to speak.\n\n\"My friends,\" said she, \"time flies; the enemy is advancing. What\ndo we need? A man whom we can trust; a soldier acquainted with\nwar, and knowing how to profit by the strength of mere positions.\nWell, why not choose Hullin? Can any among you name a better? I\npropose Hullin!\"\n\n\"Hullin! Hullin!\" cried Labarbe, Dives, Jerome, and many others.\n\"Let us have a vote!\"\n\nMarc-Dives, climbing the pile of logs, shouted in a voice of\nthunder:\n\n\"Let those who are opposed to having Jean-Claude Hullin for our\nleader, raise their hands!\"\n\nNot a hand rose.\n\n\"Let those who wish Jean-Claude Hullin to be our chief, raise\ntheir hands!\"\n\nEvery hand rose.\n\n\"Jean-Claude,\" said the smuggler, \"you are the man. Come hither.\nLook!\"\n\nJean-Claude mounted the logs, and seeing that he was elected,\nsaid calmly:\n\n\"You name me your chief. I accept. Let old Materne, Labarbe of\nDagsbourg, Jerome of Saint-Quirin, Marc-Dives, Piorette the\nsawyer, and Catherine Lefevre enter the saw-mill. We will hold a\ncouncil, and in twenty minutes I will give my orders. In the\nmeantime let every village detail two men to go to Falkenstein\nwith Marc-Dives for powder and ball.\"\n\n\n Chapter VIII.\n\nThose whom Hullin named met in the hut attached to the saw-mill\naround the immense chimney. A sober sort of merriment seemed to\nplay about the face of more than one.\n\n\"For twenty years I have heard people talking of these Russians\nand Austrians and Cossacks,\" said old Materne, smiling, \"and I\nshall not be sorry to see one at the muzzle of my rifle.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Labarbe; \"we shall see enough of them at last,\nand the little children of to-day will have many a tale to tell\nof their fathers and their grandsires. And how the old women of\nfifty years hence will chatter of it at evening around the winter\nfire!\"\n\n{179}\n\n\"Comrades,\" cried Hullin, \"you know the country--you know our\nmountains from Thann to Wissembourg. You know that two grand\nroads--the imperial roads--traverse Alsace and the Vosges. Both\nstarting from B\u00e2le, one runs along the Rhine to Strasbourg, and\nenters Lorraine by Saverne. Huningue, Neuf-Brisach, Strasbourg,\nand Phalsbourg defend it. The other turns to the left to\nSchlestadt. Leaving Schlestadt, it enters the mountains, and\npasses on to Saint-Di\u00e9, Raon-l'Etape, Baccarat, and Lun\u00e9ville.\nThe enemy would like to force the passage of these two roads, as\nthey are the best for cavalry, artillery, and wagons; but, as\nthey are well defended, we need not trouble our about them. If\nthe allies lay siege to the cities upon them, the campaign will\nbe dragged out to a great length, and we shall have nothing to\nfear; but this is not probable. After having summoned Huningue to\nsurrender, and Belfort, Schlestadt, Strasbourg, and Phalsbourg,\non this side of the Vosges, and Bitche, Lutzelstein, and\nSarrebr\u00fcck, on the other, they will fall upon us. Now, listen.\nBetween Phalsbourg and Saint-Di\u00e9 there are several defiles\npracticable for infantry, but only one for cannon, that is, the\nroad from Strasbourg to Raon-les-Leaux, by Urmatt, Mutzig,\nLutzelhouse, Phramond, and Grandfontaine. Once masters of this\nroad, the allies can debouch in Lorraine. This road passes us at\nDonon, two leagues hence, to our right. The first thing to be\ndone is, to establish ourselves upon it at the place most\nfavorable for defence--that is, upon the plateau on the mountain;\nto break down the bridges, and throw heavy abatis across it. A\nfew hundred large trees, with their branches, will do the work,\nand under their cover we can watch the approach of the foe. All\nthis, comrades, must be done by to-morrow night, or by the day\nafter, at the latest. But it is not enough to occupy a position\nand put it in a good state of defence. We must see that the enemy\ncannot turn it.\"\n\n\"That is just what I was thinking,\" said old Materne. \"Once in\nthe valley of the Bruche, and the Germans can bring their\ninfantry to the hills of Haslach, and turn our left; and there is\nnothing to hinder their trying the same movement upon our right,\nif they gain Raon-l'Etape.\"\n\n\"Yes; but to prevent their doing either, we have only to occupy\nthe defiles of the Zorn and of the Sarre on our left, and that of\nBlanru on our right. We must defend a defile by holding the\nheights, and, for that purpose, Piorette will place himself, with\na hundred men, on the side of Raon-les-Leaux; Jerome, on\nGrosmann, with the same number, to close the valley of the Sarre;\nand Labarbe, at the head of the remain on the mountain, will\noverlook the hills of Haslach. You will choose your men from\nthose belonging to the villages nearest your stations. The women\nmust not have far to come to bring provisions, and the wounded\nwill be nearer home. The chiefs of each position will send me a\nreport each day, by a messenger, on foot, to Donon, where will be\nour headquarters. We will organize a reserve also; but it will be\ntime enough to see to that when our positions are taken, and no\nsurprise from the enemy is to be feared.\"\n\n\"And I,\" cried Marc-Dives, \"am I to have nothing to do? Am I to\nsit with folded arms while all the rest are fighting?\"\n\n{180}\n\n\"You will superintend the transporting of our munitions. No one\namong us understands keeping powder as you do--preserving it from\nfire and damp--or casting bullets and making cartridges.\"\n\n\"That is a woman's work,\" cried the smuggler. \"Hexe-Baizel can do\nit as well as I. Am I not to fire a shot?\"\n\n\"Rest easy, Marc,\" replied Hullin, laughing; \"you will find\nplenty of chances. In the first place, Falkenstein is the centre\nof our line--our arsenal and point of retreat, in case of\nmisfortune. The enemy will know by his scouts that our wagons\nstart from there, and will probably try to intercept them. Shots\nand bayonet-thrusts will not be wanting. Besides, we cannot\nconfide the secret of your cave to the first comer. However, if\nyou insist--\"\n\n\"No,\" said the smuggler, whom Hullin's' reflections upon the cave\ntouched at once. \"No; all things well considered, I believe you\nare right, Jean-Claude. I will defend Falkenstein.\"\n\n\"Well, then, comrades,\" cried brave Jean-Claude, \"we will warm\nour hearts with a few glasses of wine. It is now ten o'clock. Let\neach one return to his village, and see to the provisions.\nTo-morrow morning, at the latest, the defiles must be occupied.\"\n\nThey left the hut together, and Hullin, in the presence of all\nassembled, named Labarbe, Jerome, and Piorette chiefs of the\ndefiles; then he ordered those who came from the Sarre to meet,\nas soon as possible, near the farm of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, with axes,\npicks, and muskets.\n\n\"We will start at two,\" said he, \"and encamp on Donon, across the\nroad. To-morrow, at daybreak, we will begin our abatis.\"\n\nHe kept old Materne, and his two sons, Frantz and Kasper, by him,\ntelling them that the battle would surely begin on Donon, and\nsharp-shooters would be needed there. Mother Lefevre never seemed\nso happy. She mounted her wagon, and whispered, as she embraced\nLouise:\n\n\"All goes well. Jean-Claude is a man. He astonishes me, who have\nknown him forty years. Jean-Claude,\" she cried, \"breakfast is\nwaiting, and a few old bottles which the Austrians will not\ndrink.\"\n\n\"Good Catherine, I am coming.\"\n\nBut as he struck the horses with the whip, and as the\nmountaineers had just begun to scatter on their way to their\nvillages, they saw, on the road to Trois-Fontaines, a tall, thin\nman, mounted upon a red mare; his hare-skin cap, with a wide\npeak, pulled well down upon his head. A great shepherd-dog, with\nlong black hair, bounded beside him; and the skirts of his huge\novercoat floated like wings behind him.\n\n\"It is Dr. Lorquin, from the plain,\" exclaimed Catherine; \"he who\nat the poor for nothing; and that is his dog Pluto with him.\"\n\nIt was indeed he, who rushed among the crowd, shouting:\n\n\"Halt! stop! Halt, I say!\"\n\nHis ruddy face, large, quick eyes, beard of a reddish-brown,\nbroad, square shoulders, tall horse, and dog, in a moment\nappeared at the foot of the mountain. Gasping for breath, he\nshouted, in his excitement:\n\n\"Ah the villains! They wanted to begin the campaign without me!\nThey shall pay for it!\"\n\nAnd, striking a little box he carried at his crupper, he\ncontinued:\n\n\"Wait awhile, my fine fellows, wait awhile! I have some things\nhere you'll want by and by; little knives and great ones--round\nand pointed ones--to cut out the bullets and canister your\nfriends yonder will treat you to.\"\n\n{181}\n\nSo saying, he burst into a gruff peal of laughter, while the\nflesh of his hearers crept. After this agreeable pleasantry, Dr.\nLorquin said gravely:\n\n\"Hullin, your ears should be cut off! When the country was to be\ndefended, was I to be forgotten? It seems to me that a surgeon\nmight be useful here, although may God send you no need of one!\"\n\n\"Pardon me, doctor; it was my fault,\" replied Hullin, pressing\nhis hand. \"For the last week I have had so many things to think\nof that some escaped me, in spite of myself. But a man like you\nneed not be called upon by me to do his duty.\"\n\nThe doctor softened.\n\n\"It is all well and good,\" he cried; \"but by your fault I am here\nlate. But where is your general? I will complain to him.\"\n\n\"I am general.\"\n\n\"Indeed!\"\n\n\"And I appoint you surgeon-in-chief.\"\n\n\"Surgeon-in-chief of the partisans of the Vosges. Very good,\nJean-Claude.\" And, approaching the wagon in which Catherine was\nseated, the doctor told her that he relied upon her to organize\nthe hospital department.\n\n\"Very well,\" she answered; \"forward. You dine with us, doctor.\"\n\nThe wagon started, and all the way the brave doctor laughingly\ntold Catherine how the news of the rising reached him; how his\nold house-keeper Marie was wild with grief, and tried to keep him\nfrom going to be massacred by the Kaiserliks; the different\nepisodes of his journey from Quibolo to the village of Charmes.\nHullin and Materne and his sons marched a few paces in the rear,\ntheir rifles on their shoulders; and thus they reached the farm\nof Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes.\n\n ----------\n\n Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n\n Number One.\n\n\n Introductory.\n\n\nMan is made for truth. The ray of intelligence beaming from his\ncountenance and kindling his looks with life marks his\nsuperiority over all inferior creation, and loudly proclaims this\nfact. Intelligence must have an object; and what can this object\nbe but truth? As a necessary consequence from this fact, it\nfollows that error can be nothing else than fragments of truth;\nill-assorted, improperly joined together. Error does not consist\nin what logicians call simple ideas, or self-evident\npropositions; but in complex ideas, the result of a long chain of\nsyllogisms. Another consequence, closely allied to the first, is,\nthat the greater the error, the more universal and more widely\nspread, the more particular truths it must contain. Or, if it\ndoes not contain a greater number of partial truths, it must have\nthe power of apparently satisfying a real and prevalent tendency\nof our mind, otherwise it would never exert dominion over the\nintelligence; or else it must possess the secret of awakening and\nalluring a true and imperative aspiration of our nature.\n\n{182}\n\nIt is through these views that we have been enabled to explain to\nourselves the prevalence of Pantheism. The simple utterance of\nthe word Pantheism, the Deity of everything, would seem to carry\nits refutation with it, so plain and evident is its falsehood, so\nglaring its absurdity.\n\nPantheism, however, has been the universal error in time and\nspace. In India, Persia, China, Greece, Rome, Pantheism\nflourished; now under a religious, and then under a philosophical\nform. After the Christian era it was the religion or system of\nthose who did not understand the Christian dogmas as taught by\nthe church; and the fathers of the first centuries, in battling\nagainst Gnosticism, Eclecticism, and Neoplatonism, were\nstruggling with this old error of the world--Pantheism. Depressed\nfor awhile by the efforts of the doctors of the church, it arose\nwith fiercer energy under the forms of all those heresies which\nattacked the dogma of the Incarnation of the Word.\n\nIn the middle ages there were many philosophers who held\nPantheism; and in modern times, since the dawn of the\nReformation, it has become the prevalent, the absorbing error of\nthe world. Always the same as to substance, it assumes every\nvariety of form: now you see it in a logical dress, as in the\ndoctrine of the German school; again it takes a psychological\ngarb, as in that of the French school with Cousin at its head; or\nit assumes a social and political form, as in the Pantheism of\nFourier, Leroux, Saint Simon, and all the progressists of every\ncolor or shade; and finally, it puts on a ghostly shroud, as\ntaught by the American spiritualists. Under whatever garb it may\nappear, it penetrates and fills all, and pretends to explain all.\nIt penetrates philosophy, natural science, history, literature,\nthe fine arts, the family, society and the body politic, and\nreligion. It holds its sway over all, and exhibits itself as\nhaving the secret of good and evil. How is this to be explained?\nIf the falsehood of Pantheism be so evident, whence is it that it\nis the universal error in time and space, and has made such\nravages in man's intelligence? The greater its falsehood, the\nmore inexplicable becomes its prevalence. Has the nature of man\nchanged? Has his intelligence lost its object? It is true, man's\nintelligence is not perfect. Since the fall it is weakened and\nobscured, but doubtless it has not ceased and could not cease to\nbe intelligence; truth has not ceased to be its natural essential\nobject. How, then, are we to explain the prevalence of so mighty\nan error?\n\nBy the fact that it is a system which by its generality seems to\nsatisfy a supreme tendency of our mind, and to appease one of the\nmost imperative cravings of our souls. Man's intelligence has a\nnatural tendency to synthesize, that is, to bring everything into\nunity. This tendency arises both from the essential oneness of\nthe mind and from the nature of its object. The object of the\nmind is being or reality in some form or other. That which does\nexist cannot even be apprehended, and hence cannot be the object\nof the mind. To understand and to understand nothing is, at the\nsame time, the affirmation and the negation of the understanding.\n{183}\nNow, if the object of the intelligence, in order to be known and\nunderstood by the said faculty, must represent itself under the\nform of being or reality, it is under this respect necessarily\none. Under whatever form it may exhibit itself, under whatever\nquality it may be concealed, it must always be reality or being,\nand, as such, one. But if being, reality, or unity, taken in the\nabstract, was the sole object of the intelligence, there would be\nan end to all its movement or life. All science would be at an\nend, because science is a process, a movement; and movement is\nnot possible where an abstraction is the sole object of the mind.\nBeing and unity, then, abstractly considered, would be the\neternal stupor of the mind. This cannot be so, however.\nIntelligence is action, life, movement. Now, all this implies\nmultiplicity; hence the object of the intelligence must also be\nmultiple. But does not this second condition also destroy the\nformer, which requires that the object of the intelligence should\nbe one? Here reason finds a necessary, though, as we shall see,\nonly an apparent contradiction, both in the logical as well as\nontological order. In the logical order, because the intelligence\nseems to require unity and multiplicity as the conditions without\nwhich its action becomes impossible. In the ontological order, or\nthe order of reality, because if the object is not at the same\ntime one and multiple, how can those conditions of the mind be\nsatisfied?\n\nThe intelligence, then, in order to live, must be able to travel\nfrom unity to multiplicity in an ascending or descending process,\nand to do so, not arbitrarily, but for reasons resting on\nreality.\n\nIn this lies the life of the intelligence; science is nothing but\nthis synthetical and analytical movement. Let the mind stop at\nanalysis or multiplicity, and you will give it an agglomeration\nof facts of which it can neither see the reason nor the link\nwhich connects them: and hence you place it in unnatural bonds,\nwhich, sooner or later, it will break, it matters not whether by\na sophistical or a dialectic process. On the other hand, let it\nstop at unity, and you condemn it to stupor and death.\n\nThe foregoing ideas will explain the fact how a particular error\nwill either have a very short existence or fall into the\nuniversal error of Pantheism. For in this, so far as we can see,\nlies the reason of the universal dominion of Pantheism. Because\nit proposes to explain the whole question of human knowledge, it\ntakes it up in all its universality, and the solution which it\nsets forth has all the appearance of satisfying the most\nimperative tendency of our mind. To be enabled to explain the\nnumberless multiplicity of realities, no matter how, and, at the\nsame time, to bring them into a compact and perfect whole,\nstrikes to the quick the very essence of man's intelligence and\nallures it with its charms. If this be not the main reason of the\nprevalence of Pantheism, we acknowledge we do not understand how\nsuch a mighty error could ever take possession of man's mind; we\nare tempted to say that human understanding was made for\nfalsehood, which is to deny the very notion of intelligence.\n\nWhat Pantheism proposes to do for the mind it also promises to\naccomplish for the soul.\n\n{184}\n\nThere is, in man's heart or soul, impressed in indelible\ncharacters, a tendency after the infinite, a craving almost\ninfinite in its energy, such is the violence with which it impels\nthe soul to seek and yearn after its object. To prove such a\ntendency were useless. That void, that feeling of satiety and\nsadness, which overwhelms the soul, even after the enjoyment of\nthe most exquisite pleasure, either sensible or sentimental; the\nphenomenon of solitaries in all times and countries; the very\nfact of the existence of religion in all ages and among all\npeoples; the enthusiasm, the recklessness and barbarity which\ncharacterize the wars undertaken for religion's sake; the love of\nthe marvellous and the mysterious exhibited by the multitude;\nthat sense of terror and reverence, that feeling of our own\nnothingness, which steals into our souls in contemplating the\nwide ocean in a still or stormy night, or in contemplating a\nwilderness, a mountain, or a mighty chasm, all are evident proofs\nof that imperious, delicious, violent craving of our souls after\nthe infinite. How otherwise explain all this? Why do we feel a\nvoid, a sadness, a kind of pain, after having enjoyed the most\nstirring delights? Because the infinite is the weight of the\nsoul--the centre of gravity of the heart--because created\npleasures, however delightful or exquisite, being finite, can\nnever quiet that craving, can never fill up that chasm placed\nbetween us and God.\n\nThe pretended sages of mankind have never been able to\nexterminate religion, because they could never root out of the\nsoul of man that tendency. I say pretended sages, because all\nreal geniuses have, with very few exceptions, been religious; for\nin them that tendency is more keenly and more imperiously felt.\n\nThis is the second reason of the prevalence of Pantheism. To\npromise the actual and immediate possession of the infinite, nay,\nthe transformation into the infinite, is to entice the very best\nof human aspirations, is to touch the deepest and most sensitive\nchord of the human heart.\n\nBoth these reasons we have drawn _a priori_; we might now\nprove, _a posteriori_, from history, how every particular\nerror has either fallen into Pantheism or disappeared altogether.\nBut since this would carry us too far, we will exemplify it by\none error--Protestantism.\n\nThe essence of Protestantism lies in emancipating human reason\nfrom dependence on the reason of God. It is true that at its dawn\nit was not proclaimed in this naked form, nor is it thus\nannounced at the present time; but its very essence lies in that.\nFor if human reason be made to judge objects which God's reason\nalone can comprehend, man is literally emancipated from the\nreason of God.\n\nWhat does this supreme principle of Protestantism mean, that\nevery individual must, by reading the Bible, find for himself\nwhat he has to believe?\n\nAre the truths written in the Bible intelligible or\nsuperintelligible; that is, endowed with evidence immediate or\nmediate, or are they mysteries?\n\nIf they be purely intelligible, endowed with evidence mediate or\nimmediate, there is no possible need of the Bible, for, in that\ncase, reason could find them by itself. If they be mysteries, how\ncan reason, unaided by any higher power, find them out? It will\nnot do to say, They are written in the Bible, and reason has\nmerely to apprehend them. Suppose a dispute should arise as to\nthe right meaning of the Bible; who is to decide the dispute?\nReason? Then reason must grasp and comprehend mysteries in order\nto decide the dispute. For none can be judge unless he is\nqualified thoroughly to understand the matter of the dispute.\nFrom this it is evident that to make reason judge of the faith is\nto make it judge of the mysteries of the infinite, and,\ntherefore, is to emancipate the reason of man from subjection to\nthe reason of God. Hence, Protestantism was rightly called a\nmasked rationalism.\n\n{185}\n\nIt soon threw off the mask. The human mind saw that it can never\nbe emancipated from the reason of God unless it is supposed to be\nindependent, and it could never be supposed independent unless it\nwas supposed equal to the reason of the infinite.\n\nThe result of all this is necessarily Pantheism. And into\nPantheism Protestants soon fell, especially the Germans, who\nnever shrink from any consequence if logically deduced from their\npremises. Such was the latent reasoning of Fichte, Schelling,\nHegel, and others, in building up their form of Pantheism.\n\nTo understand is to master an object, to mould it so as to fit\nour intelligence. We can understand the infinite, we can master\nit. Therefore, we are at least equal to the infinite, 'we are\nourselves the infinite,' we ourselves lay it down by a logical\nprocess. Hence the astounding proposal which Fichte made to his\ndisciples, that the next day he would proceed to create God, was\nnothing else but the echo and logical consequence of the cry\nraised by the unfrocked monk of Wittenberg, proclaiming the\nindependence of reason from the shackles of all authority.\n\nOn the other hand, the denial of human liberty and the absolute\npredestination of the Calvinists give the same result. If we are\nnot free agents, if God can do what he lists with us, we are no\nlonger agents in the strictest and truest sense of the word. Now,\nevery substance is an act, a _monos_, a force; if, then, we\nare not agents, we are not substances, and hence we become\nqualities, phenomena of the infinite substance. All this as\nregards doctrine. But Protestantism ran into Pantheism by another\nroad almost as soon as it arose, for the action of the feelings\nis swifter and more rapid than logic. Protestantism being\nrationalism in doctrine is necessarily naturalism with regard to\nthe soul; and by presenting to the soul only nature, its authors\nleft the craving after the supernatural and the infinite thirsty\nand bleeding. What was the consequence? Many Protestant sects\nfell into mysticism, which is but a sentimental Pantheism, a\nspecies of interior theurgy. History is too well known to render\nnecessary any proof of these assertions. These are the\nconsequences at which active minds must arrive when, in their\nresearches, they do not meet with truth.\n\nAs to those minds which are not active, or not persevering in\ntheir inquiries, they fall into indifference, which is but a\nscepticism of the soul, as doubt is the scepticism of the mind.\n\nNow, the question arises, What is the best method of refuting\nPantheism? Many have been the refutations of Pantheism, but they\nare limited to pointing out the absurd consequences following\nfrom it, which consequences, summed up, amount to this: that\nPantheism destroys and makes void the principle of contradiction\nin all the orders to which it may be applied; that is to say, it\nmakes void that principle in the ontological order or order of\nrealities, in the logical order, etc.\n\nBut, notwithstanding the truth and force of this refutation, we\ndo not know that it has converted a single Pantheist. From the\nfact that Pantheism is more prevalent at the present time than\never it was, we should conclude that it has not. We say this with\nall the respect and deference due to those who have exerted their\ntalents in the said arena.\n{186}\nFor we know that some of the noblest intellects have brought\ntheir energy to bear against this mighty error. But, if we are\nallowed to express our opinion, we say that all former\nrefutations have been void of effect for lack of completeness,\nand a determination on the part of their authors to limit\nthemselves to the abstract order, without descending to\nparticulars, and to the order of realities. The result was, that\nwhile Pantheism, without any dread of consequences, applied its\nprinciples to all orders of human knowledge, and to all\nparticular questions arrayed under each order, and was, as it\nwere, a living, quickening system--false, indeed, in the\npremises, but logical and satisfactory in the consequences\nresulting from those premises--the refutations of it, confined\nwithin the limits of logic, were a mere abstraction; true,\nindeed, and perfectly satisfactory to any one who could apply the\nrefutations to all the orders of human knowledge, but wholly\ndeficient for those who are not able to make the application. We\nthink, therefore, that a refutation of Pantheism should be\nconducted on the following principles:\n\n1st. To admit all the problems which Pantheism raises, in all the\ngenerality of their bearing.\n\n2d. To examine whether the solution which Pantheistic principles\nafford not only solves the problem, but even maintains it.\n\n3d. If it is found that the Pantheistic solution destroys the\nvery problem it raises, to oppose to it the true solution.\n\nThese are the only true principles, as far as we can see, which\nwill render a refutation of Pantheism efficient. For, in this\ncase, you have, in the first place, a common ground to stand\nupon, that is, the admission of the same problems; in the second\nplace, if you can prove that the Pantheistic solution of the\nproblems destroys them, instead of solving them, it will be\nreadily granted by the Pantheist for the sake of the problems\nthemselves. When you have done all this, you do not leave the\nmind in doubt and perplexity, but you present to it the true\nsolution, and it will then be ready to embrace it.\n\nA refutation conducted upon those principles we have attempted in\nthe articles we now publish.\n\nWe take Pantheism in all its universality and apparent grandeur;\nwe accept all its problems; we examine them one by one, and we\nshow that the Pantheistic solution, far from resolving the\nproblems, destroys them; and we substitute the true solution. In\na word, we compare Pantheism with Catholicity; that is, the\nuniversality of error with the universality of truth--the whole\nsystem of falsehood with the whole system of truth. We make them\nstand face to face, and we endeavor to exhibit them so plainly\nthat the brightness and splendor of the one may thoroughly\nextinguish the phosphoric light of the other. We show the\nPantheist that, if he ever wants a solution of _his_\nproblems, he must accept Catholicity, or proclaim the death of\nhis intelligence.\n\nTo do this it will be necessary for us to compare Pantheism and\nCatholicity in all orders; in the logical order, in the\nontological order or the order of reality; and under this order\nwe must compare them in the moral, social, political, and\naesthetic orders. The truth of the one or the other will appear\nby the comparison.\n\nIt is true we undertake a great task; great especially as regards\nthe positive part of the refutation. For it embraces the whole of\ntheology; not only with relation to what is commonly regarded as\nits object, but in the sense of its being the supreme and general\nscience, the queen of all sciences, the universal metaphysic in\nall possible orders.\n{187}\nWe own that we have felt the difficulty of such a task, and many\ntimes have we abandoned it as being far above our strength. But a\nlingering desire has made us return to the work. We have said to\nourselves: Complete success and perfection are beyond our hope,\nbut we can at least make the attempt; for, in matters of this\nkind, we think it well to reverse the wise maxim of the Lambeth\nprelates, and rather attempt too much than do too little.\n\n ----------\n\n Friendships.\n\n The glowing wreaths that 'mid curled locks repose,\n Through night of pleasure worn,\n Myrtle and jasmine, orange-flower and rose,\n Fall shrivelled by the morn.\n\n The simple immortelles for loved ones twined--\n With many a tear and sigh,\n Hung round the cross--the rain-compelling wind\n And winter snows defy.\n\n Thus gilded friendships, knit by pleasure brief,\n Fade when joy's scenes have passed;\n But duller links, annealed by burning grief,\n Through checkered years shall last.\n\n _The Lamp._\n\n ----------\n\n{188}\n\n Translated From Le Correspondant.\n\n Discourse by the Rev. P\u00e8re Hyacinthe. [Footnote 65]\n\n [Footnote 65: Delivered on the occasion of a profession of\n Catholic faith and the first communion of an American\n Protestant lady, in the chapel of the convent of \"Les Dames\n de l'Assomption,\" at Paris, July 14th, 1868]\n\n \"Misericordias Domini in aeternum cantabo,\"\n \"I will sing eternally the mercies of the Lord.\"\n --_Psalms_.\n\n\nMadam and my sister in Jesus Christ:\n\nIt is you who have given me the text and the subject of this\nexhortation. It is you who, overflowing with gratitude toward him\nwho has called you from darkness to his admirable light, have\nasked me to forget this audience and to think only of you and of\nGod, and to speak only of his loving-kindness which has been\nmanifested in every event of your life. I will obey you; and,\ntaking this life in its three divisions which mark time, I will\nendeavor to speak in simple truth, and the pious confidence of an\noverflowing heart, of the mercies of God over your past, your\npresent, and your future career.\n\nThe history of Christian souls is the most marvellous and yet the\nmost hidden of all histories. The more exterior events which\nagitate society find only in these interior histories their true\nsense and their highest reason; and when we shall read these\nentire in the book of life, and by the light of eternity, we will\nfind therein the unanswerable justification of the providence of\nGod over human affairs, and the true titles of the nobility of\nmankind in the blood and by the grace of Christ. \"We will sing\neternally the mercies of the Lord!\"\n\n\n I.\n\nAnd first, madam, what were these mercies of your past life? Or,\nto be better understood, what were you? What have you been until\nnow? I acknowledge some embarrassment in giving an answer to my\nown question. Although born in the bosom of heresy, you were not\na heretic. No, by the grace of God you were not a heretic; and\nnothing shall force me to give you this cruel name--justly\ncruel--against which cries out all the knowledge I have of your\npast. One of the doctors--the most exact and the most severe--of\nChristian antiquity, Saint Augustine, refuses in several of his\nwritings to class among heretics those who, born outside the\nvisible communion of the Catholic Church, have kept in their\nhearts the sincere love of truth, and are disposed to follow it\nin all its manifestations and in all its requirements. [Footnote\n66]\n\n [Footnote 66: See particularly the letter xliii. of the\n edition of the Benedictines of Saint-Maur: \"Qui sententiam\n suam, quamvis falsam atque perversam, nulla pertinaci\n animositate defendunt, praesertim quam non audacia\n praesumptionis suae pepererunt, sed a seductis atque in\n errorem lapsis parentibus acceperunt, quaerunt autem cauta\n sollicitudine veritatem, corrigi parati, cum invenerint;\n _nequaquam sunt inter haereticos deputandi_.\"]\n\nThat which makes heresy is the spirit of pride, of revolt, and of\nschism, which burst forth in heaven when Satan, separating the\nangels of light, attempted to remodel, according to his liking,\nthe theology of eternity, and reform the work of God in the\nworld; it is that breath blown from the nostrils of the archangel\nin wrath to stir up about him his propagandists throughout time.\nGentle and humble of heart, you have never breathed that breath.\nYou are not, then, a heretic.\n\n{189}\n\nBut then, what were you? One day I interrogated one of your most\ndistinguished fellow-countrymen, Protestant by birth, now a\nCatholic and a priest, and in the outburst of that pious\ncuriosity which is awakened by the history of souls I asked him\nthis same question: \"What were you?\"\n\nHe answered me thus: \"I did not belong to any Protestant\ncommunion; I had been baptized in the church of my parents, but I\nhad never professed their faith.\" \"You were, then, a\nrationalist?\" said I. \"No,\" responded he smilingly; \"we of the\nUnited States know nothing of that mental malady of the\nEuropeans.\" I blushed and was silent an instant, then pressed him\nto explain further, when he gave me this noble reply: \"I was a\nnatural man, seeking the truth with my whole intelligence and\nheart.\"\n\nWell, madam, you were like that: you also--a noble, womanly\nnature--seeking the truth in love, and love in truth. But you\nwere more: you were a Christian; ay, a Catholic.\n\nThis is a fundamental distinction without which it becomes\nimpossible to be just toward communions separated from the\nCatholic Church, and toward the souls which compose them. All\nreligious schisms contain within their bosom two elements\nentirely contrary: the negative element, which makes it a schism\nand often a heresy; and the positive element, which preserves for\nit a portion more or less great of its ancient heritage of\nChristianity. Not only distinct, but hostile, these two elements\nare nevertheless brought together in constant combat; the\ndarkness and the light--life and death--meet without mingling, or\nwithout either being vanquished; and then results what I shall\ncall the profound mystery of the life of error. As for myself, I\ndo not give to error that undeserved honor to suppose that it can\nlive of its own life, breathe of its own breath, or nourish of\nits own substance souls who are not without virtue, and peoples\nwho are not without greatness.\n\nMadam, Protestantism, as Protestantism, is that negative element\nwhich you have repudiated, and which with the Catholic Church you\nhave condemned and abjured. But the spirit of Protestantism has\nnot been alone in your religious life: by the side of its\nnegations there were its affirmations, and, like savory fruit\nconfined within its bitter husk, you were in possession of\nChristianity from your infancy.\n\nBefore coming to us, you were a Christian by baptism, validly\nreceived, and when the hand of your minister poured the water\nupon your forehead with the words of eternal life, \"I baptize you\nin the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy\nGhost,\" it was Jesus Christ himself that baptized you. \"Of little\nimportance is the hand,\" writes Saint Augustine, \"whether it be\nthat of Peter or that of Paul: it is Christ that baptizes.\"\n\nIt was Christ who affianced you, who received your plighted faith\nand pledged you his. The depths of your moral being--that sacred\npart which in noble souls feels instinctively a repugnance to\nerror--the Word consecrated to himself, and like a chaste virgin\nhe reserved it for the skies! \"_Virginem_ castam exhibere\nChristo.\" [Footnote 67]\n\n [Footnote 67: 2 Corinthians xi. 2.]\n\n{190}\n\nChristian by baptism, you were also one by the gospel. The Bible\nwas the book of your infancy; and therein you have lisped at once\nthe secrets of this divine faith, which is of all time because it\ncomes from eternity, and the accents of that Anglo-Saxon tongue\nwhich is of all lands because it prevails over the globe in\ncivilizing it. Without doubt the principle of private judgment,\nso-called--the principle under which you have formerly lived--is\nthe source of numberless errors; but again, let us render thanks\nto God, besides the Protestant principle, with the Protestants\nthemselves there is the Christian principle. Besides private\njudgment, there is the action of that supernatural grace received\nin baptism, and the mysterious sense, of which Saint Paul speaks,\n\"We have the mind of Christ,\" [Footnote 68] and of which Saint\nJohn said, \"Ye have unction from the Holy One, and ye know all\nthings.\" [Footnote 69] When we have read together that Scripture\nwhich has separated our ancestors, I was agreeably surprised to\nfind that we understood its every page in the same sense, and\nconsequently in reading it alone, and out of the Church, you have\nnot read it without the spirit of the Church.\n\n [Footnote 68: \"Nos autem sensum Christi habemus.\"\n (i Cor. ii. 16.)]\n\n [Footnote 69: \"Sed vos unctionem habetis a Sancto, et nostis\n omnia. ... Et non necesse habetis ut aliquis doceat vos: sed\n sicut unctio ejus docet vos de omnibus, et verum est, et non\n est mendacium.\" (i John ii. 20, 27.)]\n\nAgain, my child: with Baptism and the Holy Scriptures, with the\nsacrament and the book, you had prayer; that interior, invisible,\nineffable, and withal common property; that language\npre-eminently of the soul to God, and of God to the soul; that\npersonal and direct communion of the humblest Christian with his\nFather in heaven.\n\nIn what, then, were you wanting? I remember what you once said to\nme when you were still a Protestant: \"You, monk as you are, and\nI, Puritan that I am, are, nevertheless, of the same blood\nroyal.\" You spoke truly, not because you were Puritan, but\nbecause you were Christian: we were of the same blood, both royal\nand divine. You were a child of the family like myself; but your\ncradle was carried away in a night of storm by imprudent hands\nfrom the paternal mansion--that mansion of which your eyes could\nno longer retain the image, of which your lips knew not the name,\nbut which you reclaimed by your tears, by your cries, and by all\nthe emotions of your soul. What you needed, my daughter, was to\nfind it again, to weep upon its threshold, to embrace its old\nwalls, and to dwell therein for ever.\n\nYou found it at Rome, in the temple of Saint Peter, the vastest\nand the most splendid which man has ever built to his God; but\nvast and splendid above all to the eyes of faith, because it is\nto them the image of the universal brotherhood of the children of\nGod upon the earth. \"To gather together in one the children of\nGod that were dispersed.\" [Footnote 70] Coming from the great\ndispersion of souls, which is the work of man in Protestantism,\nyou contemplated at last their supreme unity, which is the work\nof God in Catholicity. Deeply impressed and suddenly moved, you\nlooked about you--it is your own touching account that I repeat\nhere--you looked about you for a priest of your own tongue; not\nto confess to, for you did not then believe in its necessity, but\nto whom you could unburden your soul, and to whom you could tell\nyour joy at having found at last a hearthstone for the heart, a\n_home!_--word so dear and sacred to your race and more\nnecessary in the religious than in the domestic life. \"This is my\nrest for ever and ever: here will I dwell, for I have chosen it.\"\n[Footnote 71]\n\n [Footnote 70: \"Ut filios Dei, qui erant dispersi,\n congregaret in unum.\" (John xi. 52.)]\n\n [Footnote 71: Psalm cxxxi. 14.]\n\n{191}\n\n II.\n\nI have tried, madam, to tell what was your past, and how the\nmercy of God prepared you in it by his far-reaching hand for the\nmarvels of the present. What is now this marvel? It is the mystic\nmarriage with Jesus Christ, by the communion with his real body\nand with his real blood, in the sacrament of his true church.\nAffianced of God in baptism, you become his spouse in the\nEucharist. \"Oh! blessed are you to have been called to the\nmarriage feast of the Lamb.\" [Footnote 72]\n\n [Footnote 72: Apocalypse xix. 9.]\n\nIt is not without a touching motive that you have chosen the 14th\nof July to consummate this solemn act. This is the anniversary of\nyour marriage--of that marriage sundered by death. You have made\nyour entry into the Catholic Church the epoch of a great\ntransformation in your spiritual life: you have chosen the day\nmost appropriately, desiring that this date, so full of the\nremembrances of tenderness and grief, should mark your entire\nunion with your crucified Lord, to be no more separated for ever.\n\nHow beautiful is he--in his blood, and through your tears--this\nSpouse of Calvary, and how lovely, and how truly is he made for\nyou, my daughter! It is not\n\n \"Patience on a monument smiling at grief:\"\n\nit is love transported with sorrow and reposing in death.\n\nI remember well the day when I met you for the first time in the\nparlor of my humble convent. The Catholic crucifix you already\nwore upon your breast, and from time to time your eyes were\nturned toward that other cross suspended against the wall, and\nwhich presided over our interview, full of light and full of\ntears, with an expression which revealed your whole soul--all\nthat it still lacked--all that it already foresaw.\n\nI would exaggerate nothing, and above all I would offend no one;\nbut can I not say that the orbit wherein, ordinarily, Protestant\npiety moves is the divine, rather than God himself? It is\nconscience, with its steel-like temper, which is at the same time\nevangelic and personal. It is respect for truth--the instinctive\ntaste for what is moral and religious. All these are what I call\nthe divine: it is not God. It is the glorious ray of the sun, but\nit is not that resplendent disk. Where, then, is the elevation of\nthe soul to the living God? \"My soul has thirsted for the strong\nand living God; when shall I come, and appear before his face?\"\n[Footnote 73]\n\n [Footnote 73: Psalm xli. 3.]\n\nWhere is the habitual communion of the heart and its works with\nthe Word made flesh? and the tears poured out like Magdalen at\nhis feet? and the bowed head--like that of John--upon his breast?\nand all that which the book of the _Imitation_ so well calls\nthe familiar friendship of Jesus? Where, in a word, is that Real\nPresence which, from the holy sacrament, as from a hidden\nfountain, flows forth to the true Catholic, like a river of\npeace, all the day long, fructifying and gladdening his life? It\nwas this Emmanuel--this God with us--who awaited you in our\nchurch, and in the sacrament which attracted you with so much\npower even when you but half-believed in it. As in the ancient\nsynagogue, you found in your worship only symbols and shadows;\nthey spoke to you of the reality but did not contain them, they\nawakened your thirst but did not quench it. Weak and empty\nelements which have no right to existence since the veil of the\ntemple has been rent asunder and the eternal reality discovered.\n{192}\n\"Old things have passed away, and all things are become new.\"\n[Footnote 74] Oh! blessed are you to have been admitted into the\nnuptial chamber of the Lamb.\n\n [Footnote 74: 2. Cor. v. 17.]\n\nHowever, madam, if Christ has taken captive your heart, it is the\nlanguage of the prophet: \"Thou hast beguiled me, O Lord, and I am\nbeguiled: thou hast been stronger than I, and thou hast\nprevailed.\" [Footnote 75] But he has respected all the rights of\nyour reason and of your liberty. That which you have resolved,\nthat which you are about to accomplish, you have weighed well and\nlong in the balance of investigation, study, reflection, and\nprayer; and I owe you this justice to say that you have carried\nyour reflection to the utmost scruple, and completion almost to\ndelay--so much have you feared, in this great religious act, any\nother argument but of personal conscience; to such a degree have\nyou persisted in rejecting the shadow of any human influence, or\nthe shadow of the influence of imagination or sentiment.\n\n [Footnote 75: Jer. xx. 7.]\n\nIt is thus, however, that Jesus Christ would have you to himself.\nSpouse of love, he is at the same time the Spouse of truth and\nliberty, and this is why, in drawing souls to him, he never\ndeceives nor constrains them. He is the eternal Word, begotten of\nthe reason of God the Father; born in the outpouring of infinite\nsplendor, he remembers his origin, and when he comes to us it is\nnot under cover of our gloom, but in the effulgence of his light.\nAnd because he is the truth he is also liberty. He bows with\nrespect [Footnote 76] before the liberty of the soul, his image\nand daughter, and forgets the language of command that he may\nonly employ that of prayer.\n\n [Footnote 76: \"Cum magna reverentia disponis nos.\"\n (Sap. xii. 18.)]\n\nAs in the sacred song, he says: \"Open to me, my sister, my love,\nmy dove, my undefiled: for my head is full of dew, and my locks\nof the drops of the nights.\" [Footnote 77]\n\n [Footnote 77: Canticle v. 2.]\n\n\"Here am I.\" He says again in the Apocalypse, \"I stand at the\ndoor, and knock: if any one shall hear my voice, and open to me\nthe door, I will come in, and will sup with him, and he with me.\"\n[Footnote 78] He never forces an entrance into the heart; he\nenters it only when it is opened for him. How tender and\nbeautiful those words that prove that with God as with man there\nis the same love and the same tenderness! True love respects as\nmuch as it loves, and disdains triumph at the expense of liberty!\n\n [Footnote 78: Apocalypse iii. 20.]\n\nIs this all, however? For his love is jealous and liberty is not\nenough; there must be the combat and the sacrifice. What were the\ndesperate conflicts, free though you were, that rendered your\ndecision so difficult and so painful? I may not speak of them.\nFamily, friends, country: I have seen these sacred wounds too\nnear to dare to touch them. I will only say that I was ignorant\nuntil now of what it costs even to the mind most perfectly\nconvinced, and to the strongest will, to leave the religion of\ntheir mother and of their country!\n\nAh! why is it that on that noble soil of the United States our\nchurch is still, I do not say unknown, but despised, by so many\nsouls? Would to God it were only unknown! A new apostle will\ninvoke upon her shores the God whom Paul invoked before the\nAreopagus, _ignoto Deo_, the church which they love in the\nideal, without knowing it in its reality; and, free from\nprejudices, the sober-minded Americans will receive it better\nthan did the frivolous Athenians.\n{193}\nBut they think they know us, while they see us through such base\nreport that even our name excites disgust and hatred. How much\nlonger must these sectarian misapprehensions continue? and when\nwill God at last command that the walls of division shall be\nthrown down? At all events, it depends upon us to prepare for\nthat much desired day, by coming together, not with doctrinal\nconcessions, which would be criminal if not chimerical, but by\nabandoning our respective prejudices before the better known\nreality, and by the formation of those kindly relations, while\nesteem and charity could yet unite those whom diversity of\nbeliefs still separate. As for me, this is my most ardent prayer,\nand as far as I understand and appreciate the situation of\nreligious affairs in this century, this feeling is invested with\na quickened and more pressing character. And since, then, the\ntime has come when judgment should begin at the house of God,\n[Footnote 79] let us Roman Catholics know how to give the\nexample; let us arise resolutely and give a loyal hand to our\nseparated but well-be-loved brethren.\n\n [Footnote 79: \"Quoniam tempus est ut incipiat judicium a domo\n Dei.\" (i Peter iv. 17.)]\n\nBut what do I say? Is it not you, madam, who have come to us\nfirst, surmounting obstacles which I cannot recount? You have\novercome them not only with the sweat of your brow, but by the\nblood of your soul; for, as Saint Augustine so truly says, \"there\nis a blood of the soul.\" And it is this which you have poured\nout; you have removed by your heroic hands the hewn rocks which\nshut you in. Like the daughter of Zion, you have made straight\nyour way and have come. [Footnote 80]\n\n [Footnote 80: \"Conclusit vias meas lapidibus quadris, semitas\n meas subvertit.\" (Lam. iii. 9.)]\n\nAh! let me welcome you with these words of your own, in which you\nexpressed the inspiration which was your strength: \"My love, my\nbeautiful, calls me: I know his voice, and though I am weak and\ntrembling I will come to him.\"\n\n\n III.\n\nLet us finish this song of the loving-kindness of God in your\nsoul. Affianced by baptism, even in the bosom of your involuntary\nerrors, espoused by the Eucharist in the integrity of Catholic\nfaith and charity, what remains for you to complete the cycle of\ndivine love and to consummate your life therein, except to become\na mother in the apostolate?\n\nOur Lord was speaking one day to the multitude, when he was told\nthat his mother and his brethren were without and had asked for\nhim. Surveying the people with his look of inspiration, he asked,\n\"Who is my mother, and who are my brethren?\" Then stretching out\nhis hand over the listening multitude, he said, \"Behold my mother\nand my brethren. For whosoever shall do the will of my Father in\nheaven, the same is my brother and my mother.\" [Footnote 81]\n\n [Footnote 81: Matthew xii. 49, 50.]\n\nThe Pope Saint Gregory the Great, explaining, in one of his\nhomilies, this teaching of the Master, found some difficulty in\nhis saying, \"This is my mother.\" \"We are without doubt his\nbrothers and his sisters, by the accomplishment of the will of\nthe Father; but how could any being other than Mary be called his\nmother?\" And the great pope remarks, as soon as a soul by a word,\nby example, by a spiritual influence, whatsoever it may be,\nproduces or develops in another soul the Word, the God, the\nTruth, substantial and living, justice and charity, in fact,\nJesus Christ--for Jesus Christ is all these--she becomes in a way\nsuperior to the reality of maternal conception, the mother of\nJesus in that soul, and the mother of that soul in Jesus.\n\n{194}\n\nWell, madam, if I mistake not, God reserves for you a part in his\nchoice of this spiritual maternity. It is of those cherished ones\nof whom I cannot speak--respect and emotion forbid--but you will\nbe their mother in Jesus, their mother in the integrity of their\nliberty as you have been his spouse in the plenitude of your own.\nSince there are other souls without number and without name, at\nleast to our feeble minds, but who are counted and inscribed in\nthe book of divine election, and who, by the mysterious power of\nyour apostleship, shall be gathered from the four winds of\nheaven; for the Lord hath not spoken in vain: \"And many shall\ncome from the east and the west, and shall sit down with Abraham\nand Isaac and Jacob, in the kingdom of heaven.\" [Footnote 82]\nYes, many, born like you in heresy without having been heretics,\nignorant without being culpable, are hastening to the banquet of\nCatholic truth, to the joys of a refound unity; while, alas! some\nthere are among us, zealous for the letter, but using it to\nsmother the spirit, who will see themselves perhaps excluded from\nthe kingdom of God, for which they do not bring forth fruit.\n[Footnote 83]\n\n [Footnote 82: Matthew viii. 11.]\n\n [Footnote 83: Matthew xxi. 43.]\n\nGo, then, as a missionary of peace and of light to the land that\nawaits you, and of which by an especial design of Providence the\nmoral future is almost entirely in the hands of women. You will\nnot regret the public preaching which is forbidden your sex; you\nwill speak in the modest and persuasive eloquence of\nconversation; you will speak by your person and your entire life,\nfree yet submissive, humble yet proud, austere yet tolerant,\ncarrying the love of God even to aspirations the most sublime,\nand the love of your fellow-beings to condescensions the most\ntender.\n\nBut I would define more clearly the special character of your\napostolate. In recounting to me the history of your soul, with\nits loves and hates, you have said, \"I have hated three things:\nslavery, the Catholic Church, and immorality.\" Of the three hates\nonly one remains. Slavery is no more: God has effaced the sign of\nCain from the brow of your people with a baptism of blood. As for\nthe Catholic Church, when you came to know it your hate was\nturned to love, and you have espoused it to battle more\nefficiently with it against the last enemy; and it is in the firm\nfoundation of her dogmas, replacing the slippery sand whereon\nyour uncertain feet trod; it is in the fecundity of its\nsacraments, substituted for the sterility of your worship; it is\nunder the guidance of its hierarchy, and in the force of its\nunity, that you will combat the double immorality which dishonors\nthe Christian world--the immorality of mind, which we in Europe\ncall Rationalism, which you in America call Infidelity; two\nwounds unlike I know, but two wounds equally mortal: and the\nimmorality of the heart, that which corrupts the senses as the\nformer does thought. These two immoralities are sisters; one\nattacks the virginity of faith, the other the virginity of love,\nand both have found in woman a special enemy. To the serpent\nwhich crawls on its belly and eats the dust of the earth, the\nLord has said from the beginning, in pointing to woman, who is\nthe ideal being springing from the heart of man: \"I will put\nenmities between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her\nseed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for\nher heel.\" [Footnote 84]\n\n [Footnote 84: Genesis iii. 15.]\n\n{195}\n\nBut now, behold the woman above all women! Mary, the young wife,\nthe young mother, going over the hills of Judea to visit her\nfriend, advanced in years, and hopeless as it seemed in\nsterility. She carries in her womb the infinite weight of the\nWord, but her step is light like truth, like love. Under the\ncharm of the chaste love of God she greets Elizabeth, who feels\nat her approach the germ of nature quicken within her breast.\n\"From whence cometh this happiness that the mother of my Lord\nshould come to me?\" The children were yet mute, but their mothers\nprophesy, Elizabeth before John the Baptist, Mary before Jesus\nChrist. \"Already,\" to speak with St. Ambrose, \"already the day of\nthe beginning of the salvation of man had begun,\" [Footnote 85]\nand because sin had commenced by woman, regeneration commenced by\nher.\n\n [Footnote 85: \"Serpunt enim jam tentamenta\n salutis humanae.\" In Luc.]\n\nIt seems to me I see now the Christian woman, espoused of Jesus\nand his mother, advancing toward this century, bowed down like\nElizabeth in the sadness of sterility. The obstacles which have\nrepelled us do not hinder her. She will imbibe in the\ninspirations of her charity, faith, and hope, which we have too\noften failed to show; rising like Mary upon the delectable\nheights, walking in the paths of the spring-time and of the dawn;\nshe will cause to be heard in the ears of the men of this century\nthis cry of the heart which recognizes the presence of Jesus:\n\"Behold, as soon as the voice of thy salutation sounded in my\nears, the child in my womb leaped for joy.\" [Footnote 86]\n\n [Footnote 86: Luke i. 44.]\n\nArise, daughter of Zion, unbind the cords about your neck, you\nwho were captive: \"_Solve vincula colli tui, captiva filia\nSion_.\" [Footnote 87] How beautiful are the feet of those who\nstand upon the mountain-top, proclaiming peace and bringing the\nglad tidings of salvation, crying: \"The Lord shall reign!\"\n\n [Footnote 87: Isaiah iii. 2.]\n\n ----------\n\n{196}\n\n Glimpses of Tuscany.\n\n\n Santo Spirito.\n\n III.\n\n\nSanto Spirito is not as well known to strangers as the other\nlarge churches of Florence. It is on the south, or less\nfrequented, side of the river, and is so hemmed in, hidden away,\nand thrust out of sight, by compact masses of tall dwellings and\nold palaces, that, although just round the corner from the Pitti,\nit was a month before I found it out. Indeed, I was only then\napprised of its existence by the drums of the Sixth grenadiers\nbeating for military Mass.\n\nA piazza in Florence means an acre, more or less, of oblong,\nopen, flat, macadamized, unornamented ground; without tree, or\nshrub, or flower, or even the picturesque grasses of the deader\nItalian towns. The Piazza of Santo Spirito is peculiarly bald and\ninsipid. The exterior of the church itself is dreadful;\nshabbiness and dilapidation unrelieved by a single line of\nbeauty. The cupola, for which Brunelleschi is responsible, is\nmean almost to vulgarity; almost as mean as the cupola of San\nLorenzo. Two such cupolas would ruin any other reputation than\nhis who vaulted Santa Maria del Fiore. The only redeeming feature\nin the whole quadrilateral is the charming Campanile, or belfry\nof Baccio d'Agnolo's, which hovers like the dream of a poet over\nSer Filippo's prose. The facade of the church is unfinished, and,\nwhat is worse, disfigured by the introduction of the scroll, that\npoorest, falsest, shallowest of architectural devices. The scroll\nis properly the symbol of the fleeting; a line described through\nair or water with wand or wheel; the scriptural type of\nevanescence: \"_And the heavens shall be rolled away like a\nscroll_.\" (Isaiah.) \"_And the heaven withdrew, as a scroll\nrolled up together._\" (Revelation.)\n\nHow monstrous a violation of all fitness to adopt it as part of\nthe fixed form and outline of an edifice--to fasten the sign of\nthe transient on the front of mansions dedicated to the service\nof the Eternal! The front is the weakest elevation of the\nbasilica, but the scroll only makes it worse. See how well the\nmatter can be mended by the gold mosaic and linear grace of San\nMiniato, by the arched colonnades of Pisa, by the pointed\nbuttresses--_not_ the wretched windows--of Milan. You are in\na rage with Ser Filippo and the Renaissance at once.\n\nBut enter; push the green baize aside; step fairly in. Heaven,\nhow beautiful! What breadth, what calm, what repose! Round-arched\naisles of dark Corinthian columns, not stopping at the choir, but\nrunning clean round transepts and apsis, traversing a Latin cross\nof more than three hundred by nearly two hundred feet. No stained\nglass--all in transparent shadow, like the heart of a forest. A\nchurch built for use, not show; yet lofty, spacious, beautiful,\nwith an atmosphere of its own which is luxury to breathe. Not the\ngloom of the Duomo, nor the glow of St. Peter's, nor yet the gray\nof San Lorenzo; the place is haunted by a dim, mysterious\ngladness.\n{197}\nAlthough in the round style, and comparatively barren of detail,\nit looks larger even than it is; larger than Santa Maria Novella\nor Santa Croce. Its real magnitude is enhanced by its perfect\nproportions; a fact which should keep us from flippantly imputing\nto the same cause the illusive littleness of St. Peter's.\n\nBut the grenadiers are marching in, \"fifty score strong;\" their\nbayonets are flashing in nave and aisle. You would think the\nchurch would never hold them all; yet there is room beneath those\nbrown arches for thrice as many more. As soon as the men are\nformed, the officers march down the nave amidst complete\nsilence--their breasts covered with decorations won at Magenta\nand Solferino--and range themselves before the choir. In the\ntransept on their right is stationed their band, much the best in\nFlorence--some forty instruments, admirably led, and nearly as\ngood as the Austrian. Just as the music begins, the chaplain, a\nhandsome, grave young ecclesiastic--followed by two tall\ngrenadiers who serve his Mass--advances from Cronaca's beautiful\nsacristy; and, without the least appearance of haste, and with\nthe utmost dignity, Mass is said in fifteen minutes. No noise, no\nshuffling, no whispering, none of the effort and formality of a\nfesta; the charm is that of a ceremony first beheld just as the\ncelebrants are first at home in their parts. The cavalry Mass at\nSanta Maria Novella is far less imposing; dismounted troopers are\nalways awkward, and their band, in this instance, is a poor one.\nBut it was very fine at La Novella--the two dragoons flanking the\naltar with naked sabres, else motionless at their sides, flashed\nforward in swift salute at the elevation.\n\nAs soon as Mass was over, the troops dispersed and I was at\nliberty to explore the church. What a relief to find the pictures\ncovered! it almost reconciled me to Lent. What a delight to find\nall the details unobtrusive--all the chapels modestly in the\nbackground, instead of parading their comparative\ninsignificances. Nothing blank or bald: a broad, single effect\nlike the Sistine Sibyls and Prophets, or the Madonna of the Fish,\nor the Idylls of the King.\n\nIn the ages of faith, the monk, the noble, and the state went\nhand in hand in erecting and adorning the house of God--in making\nit gigantic, beautiful, imperishable, complete. Not only in\nItaly, but throughout Europe, there was a silent compact between\nthe present and the future--an assurance that the inspiration of\nto-day would remain the inspiration of tomorrow--an abiding\nconviction that the creed of the sire would remain for ever\nprecisely the creed of the son. In this belief, the founders of\nthe great churches cut out work for three centuries with less\nmisgiving than we should now have in projecting for as many\nyears. The builders of the English abbeys foresaw not the day\nwhen the torch and sword and hammer of the descendant would be\nuplifted to burn, to stain, to shatter a repudiated inheritance;\nwhen the rites of new and hostile doctrines would affront the few\nancestral temples that were spared. The architects of St. Peter's\nforesaw not the large revolt for which they were unconsciously\npaving the way in Germany. Like ourselves, to be sure, they had\nthe record of the past before them. They knew, as well as we,\nthat naught was left of Corinth, and next to nothing of Athens,\nand little of ancient Rome save her Colosseum and her Pantheon;\nthat the temple of Solomon was ashes; that the obelisks were\npilgrims to the West; that the _tented_ sepulchres of the\n_shepherd_ kings stood solitary and meaningless in the\ndesert.\n{198}\nBut, in spite of all this panorama of mutation and decay, they\ncould not subdue the sacred instinct of building for eternity.\nChristianity was so charged with promise, triumph, and\nimmortality that they fancied her tabernacles as indestructible\nas herself. There was a joyous trust, too, that \"the time was at\nhand,\" a confident expectation that those domes and spires would\nabide till the coming of the Son of man in the glory of his\nFather with his angels.\n\nBut the English Reformation, the French Revolution, and Italian\nUnification have taught us that the monuments of the new faith,\ninstead of being specially exempt from injury, are peculiarly\nliable to insult and mutilation. Men and nations have measurably\nceased to care or expect to perpetuate themselves through the\ntemple and the tomb. The soul of architecture has received a\nshock. Her throne is the solitude or the waste. She lurks amidst\nruins and relics, the very Hagar of art. She that seemed\nmightiest has proved weakest; her daintier sisters, sculpture and\nsong, have triumphed where she failed. The statues that adorned\nher porticoes are upright still, but the porticoes themselves are\noverthrown. The lay, the legend, the chronicle, committed with\nplying finger to paper or parchment, are living, while the forms\nof beauty and grandeur entrusted to marble are broken or beneath\nthe sands. Here and there you meet her skeleton in the\nwilderness, her white arm upraised in sublime self-assertion; but\nthough the story of Zenobia is immortal, there is scarcely a\ncolumn of Palmyra standing. The very mummy, with his dry papyrus\nwhich a spark might annihilate, may chance to survive his\npyramid! Nature has turned against her; matter has played her\nfalse. She has toiled a thousand years in granite, iron,\ncedar--in all that seemed solidest, hardest, firmest: her back is\nbent with honest toil, her hands are roughened with mallet and\nchisel; yet the dream of a poet traced on calfskin outlasts the\nvision embodied in travertine or porphyry. If an earthquake shook\nthe Val d'Arno, the canvas of Giotto would survive his campanile.\n\nWhat mockery, then, to persist in attempting the indestructible\nwhen dissolution or disintegration is the inevitable doom of the\nmaterial! Time has demonstrated that the more ponderous the\ninstrument of expression, the less easy of perpetuation the art.\nThe obliterated manuscript can be forced to reappear, but no\nchemistry can reproduce the vanished temple. The greatest forces\nof the universe are precisely those which are subtlest and least\nsubstantial. Steam and electricity are well-nigh impalpable and\ninvisible. It is the spirit, not the body, save as purged and\nspiritualized by decay, that exists for ever. Away, then, with\nthe unattainable! Away with a miscalled _real!_ If it, too,\nis a cheat, may it not be counterfeited with impunity? Away with\ncolumn of stone, with lacework of fretted marble, with blazonry\nin oak and walnut! Away with all stubborn, difficult truth, and\nwelcome brick and mortar, lath and plaster, paint and whitewash,\ngilt and varnish. If the cheap will look as well or nearly as\nwell as the dear, why not use it? It is no falser, only\n_sooner_ falser. When it wears out or burns up or tumbles\ndown, try it again. Be done with the tower of Babel: its curse\nclings faster to architecture than to speech. And as for the\ngigantic, drop it!\n{199}\nIt is always a disappointment--a disappointment in nature and\nart, in minster, mountain, stream--a disappointment in all things\nsave the broad dome of the empyrean with its floor of emerald,\nits ceiling of unfathomed blue or studded bronze, its draperies\nof shifting, winged, ethereal cloudland.\n\nYes, art, like the artist, must encounter death. But shall we\nembrace the mean because sooner or later we must relinquish the\ngreat? Shall we forsake the permanent for the transient because\nthe enduring falls short of the everlasting? Shall we inaugurate\na reign of sham because the real is not always the perpetual?\n\n \"Il pessimo nemico del bene \u00e9 l'amator del ottimo.\"\n\nThe muses should never pout: each art should reverently accept\nits limitations. Though the pen is mightier than pencil or\nchisel, though only the word and the song are privileged to pass\nintact from age to age, yet a portion of the soul of plastic art\nmay sometimes baffle decay. Even in ruin, architecture is not\nwithout its prouder consolations. _Ex pede, Herculem_. While\na bone of her survives, imagination can approximate a\nresurrection of the departed whole. The malice of her sworn\nenemies, the elements, is sometimes providentially her salvation;\nthe shrouded lava of Vesuvius embalmed a more vivid presentation\nof Roman life and manners than lives in the pages of Terence or\nPlautus. A broken shaft, a fragmentary arch, a section of\nCyclopean wall, is at once a poem, a chronicle, and a picture.\nThe ruin is time's authentic seal, without which history were as\ninconclusive as the myth. The past is a present voice as long as\na vestige of its architecture remains. The Column of Trajan is\nthe best orator of the forum now; there is a deeper charm in the\nliving eloquence of the Colosseum than in the dead thunder of the\nPhilippics. [Footnote 88] We are as awed and startled when\nunexpectedly confronted by some mouldering but still breathing\nmonument of antiquity, as if the form of the deathless evangelist\nstood bodily before us.\n\n [Footnote 88:\n \"Tully was not so eloquent as thou,\n Thou nameless column with the buried base!\"]\n\nWe perfectly understand and sympathize with the modern instinct\nthat recoils from imparting a more than needful permanence to\nprivate dwellings. The home of man is sullied with low cares and\noffices; beneath the screen and shelter of its roof the worst\npassions are often nourished, the darkest mysteries are sometimes\ncelebrated. In many an ancient manor, there is scarcely a chamber\nwithout its legend of sin, scarcely a floor without its\nbloodstain. But the _House of God_ is the witness of the\nvirtues, not the vices, of humanity; within its hallowed\nprecincts the casual profanity and levity of the few are quite\nlost in the earnest adoration of the many; the whispers of\nblasphemy drowned in the ceaseless tide of general thanksgiving;\nthe rebellious beatings of passion hushed in the solemn chorus of\npenitence and praise. The longer it endures, the holier it\nbecomes. Its aisles are impregnated with prayer, its vaults\nenriched with ashes of the blest, its altars radiant with the\nwine of sacrifice. Behind the doors of the palace and the\ndwelling, time is sure to plant the spectre and the thorn; behind\nthe doors of the cathedral, the angel and the palm.\n\nThe primary charm of church architecture is veracity. The\ninterior of Santo Spirito is perfect truth. The columns are, what\nthey claim to be, stone; the balustrade of the choir is, what it\nclaims to be, bronze; the altar what it claims to be, _pietra\ndura_.\n{200}\nYou do not sound a pillar and hear a lie, or scratch a panel and\nsee a lie, or touch a jewel and feel a lie. All is fair, square,\nhonest--not even the minutest lurking insincerity to vex the\nParaclete. I soon learned to love Santo Spirito as well as any\nFlorentine; to love it better than the Duomo with its windows of\na thousand dyes; better than the bride of Buonarroti With her\nfrescoes of Masaccio, her Madonna of Cimabue's, her Crucifix of\nGiotto's; better even than Santa Croce with its ashes of Angelo,\nits Annunciation of Donatello's, its Canova's Alfieri. I used to\nsit for hours in its spacious choir, undisturbed even by the\ndull, nasal, inharmonious chanting of the good Augustinians, and\nlisten to the sermons preached by those dim, unending arches.\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The Revue Du Monde Catholique.\n\n The Statue Of The Cure D'ars,\n Inaugurated At Ars, August 5, 1867.\n\n\nGod's purposes sometimes reveal themselves in a manner greatly to\nperplex us. They move contrary to all foresight or to any human\nlogic. Day succeeds to night, light to darkness, hope to despair,\nwithout any apparent reason, indeed in spite of reason itself.\nWhen all seems lost, then everything is regained, and even death\nitself appears to live anew. The history of religion is full of\nsuch decay and such regeneration.\n\nAfter the frightful crisis of the eighteenth century, one would\nhave thought the Church entirely abandoned, and that no new\nbreath could revive the fallen ruins which the efforts of a\nhundred years had accumulated. \"The pinnacle of the temple is\ncrumbled, and the clew of heaven comes to moisten the face of the\nkneeling believer,\" says, in his theatrical and pseudo-biblical\nstyle, the most celebrated enemy of our time. [Footnote 89]\n\n [Footnote 89: M. Renan.]\n\nMany Christians were distressed, and the timid braved with\ndifficulty the universal defection. That which they believed in\nwas denied, that which they adored was burned, and that which\nthey loved was disgraced.\n\nGod permits these humiliations, to show us that \"the work is all\nof his hand,\" and sustained only by him. To the triumphant cries\nof his adversaries, to the cry of distress from his faithful, he\nhas responded by the glorious miracle which eternally attests his\npower. Lazarus was in the tomb; he has restored him to life! The\nChurch, said its enemies, was crushed to the earth; he has\nrevivified it. To the eighteenth century, the most impious and\ncorrupt of centuries, he has caused the nineteenth to succeed,\nwhich will remain in history one of the most fruitful and\nbeautiful of the Church. To speak properly, the nineteenth\ncentury seems to have for its mission the raising of the ruins\nmade by its predecessor.\n{201}\nFollowing it over all the earth, and taking up its work as a\ncounterpart, the present century repairs the breaches made before\nit and re-establishes at each point the fortresses and ramparts\nof virtue.\n\nWithout doubt the enemy is still vigorous; he is far from being\nvanquished, and puts forth his last efforts. The nineteenth\ncentury is a list where truth and error, good and evil, give\nthemselves up to solemn combat. The ground is cleared, the\nintermediate questions laid aside, and each party knows well what\nhe wishes and where he goes. Scepticism and materialism never had\na more brilliant career; never have truth and Christian virtues\nshone with greater _\u00e9clat_. In which camp will rest the\nvictory? This is God's own secret, and only from the past may we\npredict the future. In no age, perhaps, even in its best days,\nhas the Church collected around her so many and such valiant\nchampions. The greatest bishops, the greatest writers, the\ngreatest orators, have succeeded each other for nearly a hundred\nyears, and have formed for their spiritual mother a magnificent\ncrown of science and genius. Speaking in a literary point of\nview, the age belongs to Catholics; our adversaries, by the side\nof our apologists, make but a paltry figure.\n\nWorks, too, are on a level with the minds that inspire them.\nNever have they been so numerous, and never so fruitful.\nFoundations of all sorts, churches, monasteries, orders,\nmissions, schools, hospitals, orphan-asylums, have multiplied in\nemulation of each other. A small part of the works of our day\nwould suffice for the glory of any epoch. The clergy encourage\nand direct these movements; they display zeal and\nself-abnegation; and, devoted to their chiefs, they become more\nand more devoted to the church. The _\u00e9lite_ of society do\nthem honor by following in their footsteps. Disabused of the\nunhealthy and destructive ideas by which their fathers were lost,\nand instructed by a hundred years of experience and misery, the\nhigher classes, in France especially, return with simplicity to\nthe faith and to the Christian virtues. Obedient to the eternal\nlaw which regulates society, the lower classes by degrees model\nthemselves according to their example. The centenary\n_f\u00eates_, the canonizations, the pilgrimages of Salette,\nLourdes, and others, are living witnesses of the fervor of the\nclergy and the public faith.\n\nAnd, to crown all, the Church never attested its supernatural\nfecundity by such a number of saints and martyrs. The nineteenth\ncentury is the richest in canonizations. When the Church is\naccused of being exhausted, she replies by showing a new harvest.\nAnd what saints! what models! The Labres, the Germaine Cousins,\nthe Marie Alacoques, the Cure's d'Ars! The greatest defiance\nthrown at our time, and the most violent antithesis of its ideas\nand instincts, is the actual Christianity in our midst--so\nhostile to the spirit of the world and the spirit of the age.\n\n\n II.\n\nTwo men seem to represent and renew the periods that follow them,\nand the eternal tendencies of humanity. These two men offer a\nsimilitude and a contrariety so strange, that it seems as if God\nhad opposed the one to the other to make the balance equal. Their\nskulls even, and the form of their faces, present striking\nanalogies. The expression is contrary, but the mark is the same.\n{202}\nBoth, born a hundred years apart, have inhabited the same\ncountry; both have passed the greater part of their lives in two\nvillages that touch each other, and these two villages, so\nobscure before their time, have through them attained\nextraordinary celebrity. Each has been the object of the world's\nattention, and each the goal of eager pilgrimages. The eighteenth\ncentury rushed with ardor to Ferney; the nineteenth goes to Ars\nin greater transports. As the nineteenth century is to Catholics\nthe retaliation for the eighteenth, so Ars is the retaliation for\nFerney. [Footnote 90]\n\n [Footnote 90: This expression is from the Abb\u00e9 Monnin, a\n missionary at Ars, who has given to the life of the Cur\u00e9\n d'Ars several popular works of rare merit.]\n\nThese are the resemblances, and great they are. The differences\nare greater still.\n\nOne, to speak properly, personifies the genius of evil.\nScepticism, wicked irony, hardness of heart, corruption of mind\nand senses, egotism and cupidity, united in forming a modern\ncorypheus. The other personifies the spirit of good. Truth,\npurity, self-abnegation, love of God and man, the spirit of\nsacrifice and mortification, in a word, all of moral grandeur\nrevealed to man by Christ himself, has rarely an exemplifier more\nperfect. One is the type of the Christian, elevating himself to\nthe saints, to the angels; the other is the anti-Christian type,\ndescending to the cursed, to the demons.\n\nEach has attracted the attention of man by the most opposite\nmeans: the first by his delicacy of wit equalling his duplicity;\nthe second by his integrity and a simplicity of character\nbrightened apparently by supernatural rays; the first by his\npride, the second by his humility; the first by noise, the second\nby silence. Each has exercised toward his contemporaries results\nthe most contrary. The refined in wickedness, the utterly\ncorrupted, visited the scholar to plunge deeper in perversity.\nEntire populations, just men and men of good will, visited the\npriest to establish themselves in justice, or submit their doubts\nto him, and go on toward perfection. Both still effect by their\nminds and their remembrance--from one portion of the world to the\nother--the same consequences.\n\nAnd that is not all.\n\nThe world flies from the first, as his character and doctrines\nbecome better elucidated. It approaches the second, as he is\nbetter known, and the beauty of his character developed. Ferney\nwas abandoned shortly after the death of him who was its centre;\nthe factitious or true admiration accorded him by the most\nbrilliant and perverted of his age could not survive the\nperishable attraction which Voltaire exercised. To-day Ferney is\nonly visited by amateurs in human curiosity. Ars, on the\ncontrary, grows greater and greater. The sentiment which attracts\npeople thither increases hour by hour, and the entire world knows\nthe name of the obscure village, whose echo even seems to arouse\nthe most indifferent. Multitudes flock there incessantly, and\nwhen Ferney and the memory of Voltaire, the hero of impiety of\nthe last age, shall by degrees have disappeared, Ars and the\nmemory of its cur\u00e9, the hero of truth and of the present age,\nwill attract still greater crowds, still greater homage.\n\nBy a circumstance not less strange than those already mentioned\nof these two men so totally different, the erection of a statue\nto each is now occupying the public mind. Unheard of efforts have\nbeen made to erect that of Voltaire--as Raymond Brucker says--by\nthe hand of the executioner, for the meanest stratagems and the\nmost trifling falsities have been resorted to; and by dint of\npuffing and scandal, our little Voltairians, whom Voltaire\nhimself would disown, will perhaps attain their glorious end.\n{203}\nAnd without effort, without puffing, without scandal or imposture\nof any kind, by the simple emotion of love and of Christian\nveneration, to the saint of the nineteenth century is being\nerected a statue worthy of him.\n\nBefore criticising this work, lately inaugurated at Ars with\ngreat solemnity, I will relate its history. It is sufficiently\nstriking to merit being known, and places in bold relief one side\nof the person it is destined to represent.\n\n\n III.\n\nThe Cur\u00e9 d'Ars obstinately refused to sit for his portrait. On\nthis point he was more obdurate than a Mussulman, and never lent\nhimself to any proposition or stratagem the end of which was to\nreproduce his person. Several artists, working openly, had been\nrejected; others, using hidden means, watching for the priest,\nand following him in the street or in church, had been warned to\nkeep quiet. Under these circumstances, M. Emilien Cabuchet, the\nauthor of the statue of which we are going to speak, presented\nhimself at Ars. He was furnished with a letter from the bishop,\nand numerous recommendations. He did not doubt his success, and\naccosted the cur\u00e9, and spoke of his business with a deliberate\nair. \"No, no, I do not wish it,\" said the cur\u00e9; \"neither for\nmonseigneur, nor for you, my artist-friend! At least,\" added the\npriest, changing his mind, and taking up a favorite idea, \"unless\nmonseigneur will permit me to go away immediately, and weep over\n_my poor life!_\" \"But, Monsieur le Cur\u00e9--\" \"It is useless.\"\n\nThe discomfited artist ran to relate his adventure to the\nmissionaries established near the cur\u00e9. They gave him new\ncourage. \"Persevere!\" said they to him. \"You are not here to make\nyour court to the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, but to make his portrait. Go on, we\nwill sustain you.\"\n\nThus reassured, the artist risked everything, and commenced by\nfollowing the curate to church. During the Mass he was behind the\ncurate, at the sermon back of the good women, and at the\ncatechism behind the children. Every one assisted him, and took\npart in the enterprise. The artist held the wax between his\nfingers, and modelled in the bottom of his hat--his eye now on\nthe cur\u00e9, now on his work. Sometimes, to mislead the priest, he\npretended to pray with fervor, or to follow attentively the\ninstruction. He thought he was very adroit.\n\nOne day the cur\u00e9 bent toward him.\n\n\"You are well aware, monsieur,\" said he in a gentle tone, \"that\nyou are causing distraction to every one--and to me also!\"\n\nWhat was he to do? How defend himself to a man so very polite! \"I\nwould have preferred harshness,\" said the artist to me. \"This\ngentleness disconcerted me.\"\n\nHe returned to the monastery decided to renounce the enterprise.\n\"Persevere!\" again said the missionaries.\n\nThe artist renewed his work.\n\nTwo days after, in the street, where he now worked from choice,\nthe cur\u00e9 again addressed him:\n\n\"Have you, then, nothing to do at home?\"\n\n\"O Monsieur le Cur\u00e9! one would think that you would turn me out\nof doors.\"\n\nThis time the cur\u00e9 was disconcerted.\n\n{204}\n\n\"No, no,\" said he eagerly, and slightly embarrassed. \"Stay as\nlong as you choose, but don't begin again!\" ...\n\nThe next day, seeing the cur\u00e9 so surrounded that he could not\ndisengage himself, and in danger of leaving his cassock in the\nhands of the pilgrims, the artist ran to his relief and offered\nhim his arm.\n\n\"I constitute myself your bodyguard,\" said he gallantly.\n\n\"Then I am emperor! ... But this is not the question. Do you\nknow, I would like to excommunicate you?\"\n\n\"Really, Monsieur le Cur\u00e9, what a tremendous word! Have I, then,\ncommitted so shocking a crime?\"\n\n\"Bah! you understand me well enough.\"\n\n\"Well then, what?\"\n\n\"You cause me constant distraction; and when you think seriously,\nwould it not be far better to take the head of the first dog you\nmeet?\"\n\n\"O Monsieur le Cur\u00e9!\"\n\nAnd when the model was finished and the cur\u00e9 saw it,\n\n\"Well,\" said he, \"it is not a subject of rejoicing! Look at the\npoor Cur\u00e9 d'Ars! How odd it is,\" added he, \"your power of giving\nlife to plaster!\"\n\n\n IV.\n\nI have given this dialogue at length, as it was repeated to me by\nthe artist. If I am not deceived, it represents well the\ncharacter of the good priest; his humility, his humor, his\nbrusqueness touched with raillery, his politeness and\ngoodness--all are well portrayed. All this is reproduced in the\nstatue. It gives us the character of the dialogue, and the almost\nlegendary figure that our contemporaries have seen, and which\nwill pass to posterity.\n\nThe Cur\u00e9 d'Ars is kneeling in his cassock, with the surplice,\nrabat, and stole. His hands are joined, his eyes uplifted to\nheaven. A sweet smile brightens his face. His hair, cut off\nsquare, falls on his neck in abundant locks, and shaven closely\non the top of his head; his forehead is left free. The priest\nprays with such fervor and such faith, I may say a passion which\nmakes us think of paradise. Angels must pray in this way. His\nhands are extended toward heaven with an intensity of emotion;\nthe eyes have so much ardor in their expression that the spirit\nof prayer seems to lift the body from earth and carry it to\nheaven. I know no work with more life in it; there does not exist\na more impassioned statue. Faith, love, and desire, transfigured\nin this marble block, animate it and give it a striking reality.\n\nAs a whole, the work offers a new and excellent type of the\nreligious sculpture of our age. The artist has set aside\nclassical lessons and proved himself in the right. The\nremembrances of antiquity should not interfere in the realization\nof an ideal taken from the very heart of contemporary life and\nthe present Christian age. Gothic traditions are even neglected,\nand the author has been careful to give the figure the seal of\nits own time, his good taste causing him to avoid the quicksands\ninto which so many others have fallen. Wishing to represent a man\nof our time, the sculptor would have committed an anachronism to\nbe regretted if he had impressed his character with a mysticism\nand power which distinguished the personages of the art of the\nthirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In the spirit of truth he\nwas to give to the world a saint, and in this saint the beatific\nexpression which in the prerogative of the saints of every age;\nbut over and above this general feature there was an order of\nsecondary shades he was obliged to respect, to give to the figure\nits age and physiognomy.\n\n{205}\n\nM. Cabuchet has admirably seized and rendered the double\ncharacter I have tried to define. His saint is as mystical as the\nsaints of the middle ages, yet he has the reality of a man of our\ntime. Gothic, or rather Christian, in sentiment, he is modern,\nand even French, in his exterior aspect. Such, in a few words, is\nthe exact appreciation shown in this work of M. Cabuchet, and the\ndouble reflection gives him, in my opinion, the highest rank\namong sculptors of his age.\n\nThe imitation of antiquity would have produced a dead work; the\nimitation of the middle ages would have produced a work\nimpersonal and hieratic; but going out of himself and all\nnational traditions, inspired only with his subject and his time,\nthe artist has brought to light a new and striking piece of work,\na true specimen of religious and modern sculpture.\n\nIt is easy to see what remembrances and what masters have\ndirected this statue. French sculpture, as its painting, has\nparticular traits which are easily recognized. Less correct,\nperhaps, and less noble than Greek or Italian sculpture, it has\nan ease, a power, a life, that has no equal. Puget and Houdon are\nthe two foremost artists in our school, so essentially French.\nUsing Greek models only to simplify and enrich their style, they\nhave sought beyond everything expression and the power of motion.\nM. Cabuchet has followed their example, and, walking in their\nfootsteps, has given us a work of which his masters could not be\nashamed.\n\nIn looking at the statue of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars the spectator is\nreminded of the celebrated statue of Voltaire by Houdon; not only\nthat the resemblance of the two faces is unaccountably striking,\nbut because the build and the exterior appearance of the marbles\noffer incontestable analogies. In both statues we find the same\namplitude, the same facility, the same light and soft manner; in\nboth the details are uniformly sacrificed to the whole, and the\nwhole owes to this mode of execution a more decorative and\nlifelike representation.\n\nVoltaire is seated, his hands leaning upon, almost clinching, the\narms of his chair. The Cur\u00e9 d'Ars is on his knees. Voltaire\nsmiles with a cynical air, as if rejoicing in the ruin he has\nmade. \"_Dors tu content, Voltaire, et ton hideux sourire_.\"\n[Footnote 91]\n\n [Footnote 91: \"Rest content, Voltaire, and\n thy hideous smile.\"--Alfred De Musset.]\n\nThe Cur\u00e9 d'Ars smiles with the ineffably sweet smile of those who\nsee God and dream of the happiness of their equals. In the two\nmarbles, the head is the same; the forehead is the same; the two\ncheek-bones, so prominent, are the same; the receding chin is the\nsame; the mouth opens by the same smile. In one it has a\nrepulsive and satanic character; in the other it is angelical and\nattractive. Everything is similar except the expression. The\nfeatures are brothers--twins, I might say; the souls that\nanimate these features are as divided as the poles. In each face\nthe cornea of the eye is represented by a deeply cut circle, a\nstyle of carving peculiar to the best age of statuary. This has\ngiven to each an intensity of look; and while that of Voltaire is\nlowered toward the earth, and only expresses the baser passions,\nthat of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars is uplifted to the sky, and reflects the\njoys of his moral superiority.\n\n{206}\n\nThus, we see, the two statues give perfectly the character and\nlife of their respective models. The first seems to rise from\nregions of hope and love, the second from despair and\nmalevolence. One represents the consoler and saviour, the other\nthe spoiler, the demolisher of souls and consciences.\n\nIt would be easy to point out other resemblances and other\ncontrasts.\n\nTo complete this analysis it is well to add, that the statue of\nthe Cur\u00e9 d'Ars recalls an element that the author has not taken\nfrom our own school. Every one conversant with art will remember\nthe figure of San Diego in Murillo's picture vulgarly called the\nKitchen of the Angels. The saint prays to God for the actual\nnecessities of the abbey, and God sends his angels to prepare the\nrepast of the monks. Several gentlemen, visiting the convent,\nlook on with astonishment at the saint raised from the earth,\nravished with ecstasy, his hands joined, his eyes uplifted to\nheaven, while the angels are getting ready the dinner. The\nnatural and supernatural were never more widely separated.\nMurillo has painted the personages working a miracle as he would\nany person in any ordinary action of life; yet who that has seen\nthis picture will ever forget it? It is evident that our artist\nwas struck by it, and that the San Diego of Murillo has occurred\nto him more than once when he represented the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars. He has\nbeen inspired by it as a true artist, guarding his own\noriginality. His hero has very much the same simplicity that\ncharacterizes the saint of the Spanish painter, the same natural\nin the supernatural, the same ease of vision and ecstasy. Both\nsee, and in seeing they evidence none of the fear or surprise\nwhich could actuate the less assured believer. They see; they are\nin heaven with God and his angels; they converse with them, and\ntheir faces express no other sensation than the tender and deep\njoy of the man who has discovered his ideal.\n\nDelicate and profound characteristic! shade difficult to seize,\nand which constitutes the true essence of men living in God, and\nbeginning on earth their immaterial existence. It needs more than\nan artist to fix this and give it form. Only a simple and pious\nChristian could crown the heads of our blessed ones with the\nmystical aureole that the believer alone discovers; only a\nChristian could give to the figures of which we speak the\nattitude and life so manifestly stolen from regions of beatitude.\nThe great difficulty of the work consisted in this shade, and\nthat may be said to form the perfect whole. The artist's title to\nglory is in his having known how to comprehend and realize this,\nand so give to his statue the freedom of none other.\n\nLet us dwell on this expression of sanctity--the distinctive\nfeature in the personage produced by M. Cabuchet. Sanctity has a\nstrikingly physiological character. It changes the exterior man,\nand transforms his countenance. The action of Jesus Christ,\ndwelling constantly in the soul, gives to the features a\nreflection of a superior order. Sanctity, to speak properly,\nrepresents the fusion of divine and human nature. The pervading\nfeature of saints is a calm, a serenity, a natural goodness which\nattracts and subjugates us. The transfigured soul transfigures\nits envelope, and we might imagine divinity showing itself\nthrough the encasement of the body. If the beautiful is the glory\nof truth, the saint is the glory of good.\n\n{207}\n\nThe statue of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars possesses to a striking degree this\n_suprasensible_ aspect that I have just noticed. By contact\nwith divinity the marble itself is transfigured--grace sheds its\nbeams and gives to the features a kind of immaterial\ntransparency. Jesus Christ is present and breathes into the\npassionate and ravished eyes, into the lips and the blessed\nsmile; the personage lives in another world; his attitude, his\nmovements have nothing in common with earth. If the spectator\ncould ignore the name of the priest represented, his attention\nwould not be less arrested, and he would easily recognize in his\nface the presence of a supernatural element, heightening the\nhuman personality.\n\nHere, however, I will make a remark. The body of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars\nis not in unison with his face; it is too material, too vigorous,\ntoo vulgar even, if I dare speak from my heart. \"The cassock of\nthe Cur\u00e9 d'Ars seems to have nothing under its large folds,\" said\nthe biographer. ... \"He was a shadow,\" added he still further.\nNow, the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars of the artist has nothing of a shadowy\nappearance. His shoulders are strong, his breast large, his hands\nknotty. The sculptor has wished to express the humble origin of\nthe priest, but in my opinion he has forgotten the transformation\nwhich the contemplative and mystical life had necessarily\noperated in the organization of the saint.\n\nThis remark, necessary to be made, detracts nothing, or almost\nnothing, from the merit of the work; it could only be appreciated\nby those who have personally known the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, and ceases to\nbe of import since his death.\n\n\n V.\n\nWe can now understand the character and various merits of the\nstatue of M. Cabuchet. All who see it retire satisfied, and the\nmass of spectators are struck by the pious and compassionate\nexpression of the holy priest. Connoisseurs admire the freedom of\nthe effect and of the execution. The author may be proud of his\nsuccess. He has paid for it by effort and anguish of every kind,\nand it is well to know sometimes these artist-struggles, that we\nmay rightly value the works that charm us so much.\n\nWhen the statue came from the workshop of the finisher, the\nsculptor did not recognize it. He had expected his model to be\nreproduced on a less grand scale, and the difference of\nproportion rendered it not easy to be known again. At such a\nresult Cabuchet experienced one of those counter-blows which have\nmade certain young artists of twenty grow old in a quarter of an\nhour, and only those who have tried to realize an ideal can\nperfectly understand such emotion. Benvenuto and Palissy in\nsimilar moments were taken with fevers which brought them to the\nvery portals of the tomb. Sigalon, noticing his picture of\nAthalie compromised by difference of light, saw his hair turn\ngray in two minutes. Cabuchet had no less trouble, and the wonder\nis he escaped a similar shock; he withstood it, however, and,\nseeing no other means, he did what any valiant artist would have\ndone in his place; he took his chisel and mallet, and in the\nstyle of Michael Angelo and Puget he attacked the marble. Each\nblow knocked off a piece, but each blow soothed the heart of the\nsculptor, for in reducing his statue he re-established it in its\nfirst form, and restored its true physiognomy.\n\n{208}\n\nCabuchet has devoted a year to such labor. For a whole year he\nhas worked with chisel and mallet, seeking the form, the\nmovement, the life; and finding, little by little, this form,\nmovement, and life at the end of his tools. He played a dangerous\ngame; the first stroke of the hammer could have destroyed his\nwork. Driven to a corner, the artist acted as a great captain. He\nrisked all to gain all. Fortune, which encourages audacity, or\nrather the good God who sustains energetic and faithful artists,\ncame to his aid; and at the end of a year Cabuchet saw his statue\nre-created by his chisel, and become truly and doubly the\ndaughter of his brain and of his hands. He gained more than one\nwrinkle at this task and more than one white hair. According to\nhis own expression, he _sweated many shirts_. But he forgot\ndifficulties and anxieties when he saw the long dreamed of\nfigure, the ideal of his days and nights, realized and looming\nbefore him!\n\n\n VI.\n\nThey have given this excellent work a reception worthy of it. At\nits arrival at the dock at Villefranche, near the village of Ars,\na numerous cavalcade, and a multitude composed of the entire\nsurrounding population, rushed to meet it, and received it with\ntransports of love and admiration. The faithful, the penitents of\nthe holy cur\u00e9, saw again their master and their model. The parish\nsaw again its venerated father. They surrounded the marble, they\ntried to touch it; many fell on their knees, and prayed as before\nthe images of the saints. On the day of the inauguration the\ndemonstrations were the same; every moment a newly collected\ncrowd prostrated itself at the foot of the statue; flowers were\nhung on it, and rosaries and medals laid on the pedestal. Each\nbelieved that new and strengthening virtue would escape from the\nmarble and regenerate those happy enough to approach it; and yet\nthis marble was nothing more than a work of genius; it had not\neven been blessed, it had no place in the church, it had received\nno certificate or consecration from Rome--no matter! the crowd\nsaw none of these obstacles. Abandoning themselves without\nafter-thought to the impression which sanctity always produces on\nthe masses, they rushed to the image of the man who appeared to\nthem a saint, as we seek the Consoler and Alleviator of all human\nsuffering.\n\nThe inauguration was conducted with a ceremony befitting the\noccasion. Monseigneur de Langabrie, Bishop of Belley, a prelate\nas remarkable for the urbanity of his manners as his superior\nmind, came himself to preside over the occasion. A great admirer\nand friend of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, he wished to give to his memory\nsome proof of his affection. More than a hundred priests of\nneighboring parishes accompanying him, presented an imposing\n_cort\u00e9ge_. Quietly, calmly, and with recollection, they\nrendered homage to the remembrance and virtues of a saint. The\nsecular and official element was represented by the Comte de\nCarets, a true Christian gentleman, and for thirty years the\nfriend of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars. A numerous crowd from all the\nneighboring country testified by repeated manifestations the\nardor of its faith and sentiment. The church of Ars, enlarged by\na talented architect, was entirely too small for all this wealth\nof offering.\n\nThe Mass was celebrated with pomp; at the gospel the Abb\u00e9 Ozanam,\nvicar-general, mounted the pulpit, and described the most\nstriking points of physiognomy of the Cur\u00e9 d' Ars.\n{209}\nInspired by his text from St. Paul, he showed how God always\nemployed the same means to act upon and govern the earth;\nweakness to confound strength, humility to confound pride, and\nlittleness to confound grandeur; all that is despicable in the\neyes of man to confound all that is powerful and worthy his\nrespect. A staff in the hands of an old man is sufficient for\nGod, and well represents the instruments he sometimes employs to\nrule the world. The Cur\u00e9 d'Ars was of obscure parentage; the Cur\u00e9\nd'Ars was humble, ignorant, illiterate, according to the world,\nwithout power, without birth, without _prestige_. He seems\nof still less repute, in that before God he so completely\nannihilated himself. Son of a poor farmer, with difficulty he\nreached the seminary, with difficulty he staid there, with\ndifficulty he attained the different grades. Everywhere, always,\nthe weakness of his faculties proved the signal of distrust from\nhis superiors, of contempt from his equals. He knew but one\nthing, to love, to pray, to humble himself--above all to humble\nhimself. The less he felt himself, the less he made himself; the\nmore he was despised, the more he despised himself. But wait! the\nhand of God appeared, and the ordinary movement of the see-saw\nwas reproduced. The lower the world placed him at one end, the\nhigher God uplifted him at the other, and he became the\ninstrument God always uses for his great works--an instrument\nlowly yet powerful, and that confounds, attracts, and subjugates\nthe whole world. This humble priest--powerless, lacking ability,\nand awkward in appearance--saw millions of men, great and small,\nwise and ignorant, known and unknown, flock from all corners of\nthe earth to hear his word, see his countenance, listen to his\nadvice, feast on his holy expressions--to touch his vestments. He\nwill govern consciences and hearts; he will read their souls,\nenlighten them, touch them. He will predict the future, will\novercome nature, and subject to his will the world of mind and\nthe world of matter. ... Admirable effect of humility which\nproduces sanctity! The most humble shall become the most\ncelebrated, and his name resound from pole to pole. He shall\nagitate multitudes, and no living man can hear him without\nthrilling with love or anger. His image will provoke enthusiasm.\nThe world will prostrate itself before it and kiss its very\ntraces; and when other images, other glorified, other renowned\nconquerors, poets, legislators, politicians, are only a\nremembrance, a vain sound which cannot thrill a single human\nfibre, the name of the obscure, the despised Cur\u00e9 d'Ars will\nradiate in an ever new orbit of splendor, and produce emotions\nand effects ever new in millions of hearts. Strange consequence!\nContrast truly striking; which shows that Catholicism by a\nbrilliant overthrow of events is alone heard to give glory and\nimmortality!\n\nAfter the Mass, monseigneur was heard in his turn, and related\nthe efforts made at Rome to obtain the canonization of the\ndefunct whose memory was then and there celebrated. He spoke of\nthe hope which he cherished to see ere long the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars and\nhis image among the glorified ones, and placed on those altars\nwhere public veneration had already given them a place.\n\n\n VII.\n\nAfter the ceremony was over, the priests and some of the pilgrims\ncoming to the solemnity united in an old-fashioned feast at the\nhouse of one of the missionaries.\n\n{210}\n\nThe day was passed in recalling the virtues and actions of the\nsaint, while the crowd continued its homage and demonstrations.\n\nNothing could be more striking than the appearance of the village\nof Ars during this _f\u00eate_. The spectator goes backward\nseveral centuries; he lives in the earliest age; legend becomes\nreality in his eyes, and the natural world is entirely forgotten\nin the consciousness of the supernatural that surrounds him. M.\nRenan speaks somewhere with contempt of times and populations for\nwhom the natural and supernatural have no exact limit. Ars\npresents every day, and especially those days in which the saint\nis honored, the same character. The natural and supernatural\ntouch and mingle. The multitude kneels, it intercedes, it asks;\nand sometimes, in the simplest manner, extraordinary favors are\ngranted, which strike with wonder the Christians of our day, so\nmuch less habituated than others to the manifestations of the\nimmaterial world. The church is always full; the tomb of the good\npastor, recognizable by a black slab, covered perpetually by an\neager crowd. Some are kneeling, others standing awaiting their\nturn, and prostrating themselves as soon as a vacant place offers\nitself. They dispute a corner of the tomb of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, as\nduring his life they disputed a corner of his confessional or an\nend of his cassock. All pray, some weep, others kiss the funereal\nmarble. Mothers bring their sickly children, and rest them on the\nslab. Paralytics and the lame take their places. Each one touches\nthe tomb with his cross, his medals, or his beads, and carries it\naway persuaded of its renewed efficacy. Every object, every part\nof the church, bears the trace of what I may call a pious\nvandalism. The confessional, the pulpit in which the holy priest\npassed nearly all his life, are cut in a thousand places. Each\none has chipped the wood to carry off a relic.\n\nOutside of the church the eagerness and veneration are no less.\nThe places frequented by the defunct are pointed out, and into\nthe old presbytery they hurry and almost smother each other on\nthe stairs. One has to pause on his way a quarter of an hour\nsometimes before reaching the bedroom of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars. The\nchamber has been barricaded, and provided with an opening in the\nwall, that it may escape the general devastation. The door is\narmed with a strong grating and plated with iron. Without such\nprecaution all would have been long since broken open,\ndemolished, and carried away. As it is, there is more than one\nhole in the wood-work, and even the walls are broken in, in\nplaces. It is said that workmen armed with crow-bars have\nattempted to throw down the wall. The shrubs and herbaceous\nplants in the court-yard are spoiled incessantly; as if the\nvisitors, unable to molest the walls, revenge themselves on the\nflowers and verdure. But they cannot penetrate into the chamber\nand are forced to stay behind the barricade. They succeed each\nother, as on some grand occasion of public curiosity in Paris,\nwhen the crowd is unusually large. From the kind of vestibule\nwhich forms the opening in the wall the visitor can take in the\nwhole apartment, if not entirely at his ease, on account of the\npressure of the crowd, at least without losing any detail.\nEverything remains as it did during the life of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars.\nHere is the bed, sheltered under its green tapestry, a present\nfrom the Comte de Carets, in place of another bed which was\nburned under extraordinary circumstances.\n{211}\nHere is the wooden chimney where the priest came each day--after\nspending from sixteen to eighteen hours in the confessional--to\nrevive his exhausted body by the still living flame of a simple\nbranch. The table is always set, as if it awaited its old\ncompanion. An earthen porringer, with a pewter spoon, a little\npitcher, also of earth, which held the milk, an earthen plate,\nand a coarse linen napkin; and nothing more. This modest service,\nand the necessarily modest repast it supposes, had sustained, for\nnearly forty years, the most valiant and fruitful life of the\nage. Man lives not by bread alone; this man lived almost without\nit; a little milk sufficed him, and on this he existed nearly all\nhis life--a trait not less astonishing than the power and energy\nwith which this milk seemed to inspire him. Two oaken chests,\npresented also by pious persons, some sacred engravings, enough\nbooks to fill the simple shelves, two or three straw chairs,\ncomplete the furniture of this poor chamber, as popular today as\nthe apartments of the Louvre or the Museum of Sovereigns. A niche\nin the wall, covered with a glazed partition, preserves and\nexposes to the piety of the pilgrims the cassock and cap of the\npoor priest.\n\nThe presbytery is no longer inhabited. No one has been reported,\nor felt himself, sufficiently worthy to occupy it after its last\npossessor. There is no longer a Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, there never will be a\nCur\u00e9 d'Ars--no one feeling strong enough to struggle with such a\nremembrance, nor bear the legendary title. The missionaries who\nduring his lifetime were established near the presbytery, do the\nduties of the parish and suffice for the pilgrims.\n\n\n VIII.\n\nSuch is the _prestige_ of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars since his death;\nand the influence he exercised during his life was no less\nastonishing. We are amazed at hearing or reading the details of\nthis exceptional existence. Eighty to a hundred thousand persons\ncame to Ars every year, and from all parts of the world. France,\nBelgium, Germany, England, Italy, America, Asia, by turns sent\ntheir pilgrims; and the enthusiasm of old--of the days of\nBernard, Dominic, Francis d'Assise, Vincent Ferrier, Philip de\nNeri--has been renewed. Petitions were addressed to the Cur\u00e9\nd'Ars as to a superior being. Every day he received letters,\ndemands, confidences, and prayers. \"One must come to Ars,\" said\nhe sometimes, \"to know the sin of Adam and the evils he has\ncaused his poor family!\" Sinners, the ill in body and mind, the\nsuffering of all kinds, went to the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars as the healer sent\nby God himself. His faith, his humility, his love of God and man,\nhis frightful austerity, his perfect abnegation of self,\nastonished and ravished souls; the gift given him to read the\nhuman heart, his marvellous intuition, his power over nature, his\npredictions, his miracles, ended by according him the\nsupernatural aureole, and the signs of election which in all ages\nhave carried away multitudes. At Ars one could learn how the\nChristian religion was founded; by what virtues, what miracles,\nits initiators had acted on the public mind and conquered. The\nlife of the gospel and the glorious days of the church\nreappeared; hagiography lived again; the supernatural and\nlegendary history of Catholicism became comprehensible and\nimpressed itself on every mind.\n\n{212}\n\nAccording to calculations which may be called official, nearly\nthree millions of pilgrims have been admitted to the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars.\nEvery kind of human misery has presented itself before him, and\nhow many have been comforted! The blind have seen, the deaf have\nheard, the paralyzed have walked; bread, wine, and corn have been\nmultiplied; and all the miracles of the gospel, except the\nresurrection of the dead, have been reproduced. The greatest\nmiracle of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars was, perhaps, the resurrection of the\nliving and the conversion of sinners, to which the holy priest\nhad dedicated his life, and was the principal end of all his\nefforts. Notwithstanding his ardent desire for death and heaven,\nhe would have consented to remain on earth until the end of the\nworld to gain hearts for Jesus Christ. It was in this _r\u00f4le_\nthat so brilliantly shone the supernatural character of the life\nand mission of the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars. When we think of the sixteen to\neighteen hours of the confessional, of the eighty to a hundred\npenitents who knelt daily at the feet of the holy priest, we may\nform some idea of the attraction that he exercised, and the deep\nfurrow he ploughed in the soul of the present age.\n\nSo many shining traits give to the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars the most\nwide-spread fame of his time. Chateaubriand, De Maistre, Goethe,\nVoltaire even, and others less famous, are only known to the more\nrefined. Their names have not penetrated the stratum of an\nimmense humanity. The Cur\u00e9 d'Ars was known to all, and his name\nhad traversed every country, every ocean, every race. In Europe,\nAmerica, Asia, it echoed and wakened souls; and everywhere we\nfind his portrait, in every town, in every country. Siberian huts\ncan show the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars. No face--not even that of Napoleon\nI.--is as popular. His hair, his cap, his cassock, his shoes, his\nfurniture, his books, his breviary, have been sold over and over\nagain for more than their weight in gold. His blood, if taken\nfrom him in illness, was collected and treasured as a relic; and\nwe see still at Ars, in several places, vials containing this\nblood, as pure as the day it flowed: can science account for\nthis? The phenomenon is, to say the least, unique, abnormal. The\nobjects that he blessed were almost taken by assault, and before\nhis death rival countries disputed for his body, and the dispute\ncame near degenerating into a bloody conflict. No honor, homage,\nor public respect was wanting to the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars, and once again\npiety and Christian virtues have proven themselves the surest\nmeans of acting on the world and attracting the masses, because\nthey represent the superior and eternal ideal of life and of\nhumanity.\n\n\n IX.\n\nBut I must pause. I have wished to sketch in a few words the\nappearance of this remarkable man, but yesterday our\ncontemporary, and of whom an extraordinary work of art has given\nme the opportunity to speak. I fear I have been prolix, and,\nforgetting the statue, have occupied my readers' attention with\nthe person represented; but I hope to be forgiven, as the best\nway, surely, to impress the merit of a portrait is to make known\nthe model the artist has wished to depict. The statue will be\nbetter appreciated as the Cur\u00e9 d'Ars himself is fully understood.\n\nAgain, it seems to me that the appearance and actions of such a\nman, in the uncertain times in which we live, are a symptom and\nhope of something better, to which we cannot give too much\nweight. Truly the age is bad enough; hardened against God, it is\nhardened against his church, and tries to sap every foundation of\nvirtue and honesty.\n{213}\nIt destroys faith, attacks good principles and the virtuous\ninstincts that prompt them, and endeavors to replace the ancient\norder of consciences by a sort of individual independence which,\nsowing division, can only produce ruin. Character and manners are\nfalling as low as ideas; cupidity, egotism, unbridled pleasure,\nsensual enjoyments, sought for and held up as the only end of\nlife; the expansion of luxury by every ingenuity gives to society\nan ideal of Babylonian civilization; revolution, that is to say,\nrevolt and universal overthrow, cap the climax, and threaten to\nswallow up everything: behold the situation and its dangers!\nSeldom have ages been more troubled, or the symptoms more\nterrible.\n\nBut hope revives and the mind is elevated when it contemplates\nthe opposing camp. So long as an age is able to produce a Cur\u00e9\nd'Ars, it is full of strength; and if the Catholic faith can\nexcite such a sensation as that of which I have just spoken, she\nassures her future. Monarchs, generals, politicians, legislators,\nwriters, may become powerless. They could not preserve the\nsociety of old, and saints alone saved it, walking in the\nfootsteps of Christ. They reconstructed and regenerated it,\nbecause they were the last and unique expression of the true and\nbeautiful in morals, the only pivot of progress, the only lever\nwhich lifted a people to lead them onward to God, the only source\nof life. Producing the same men, modern society may hope for the\nsame regeneration; its cure and its future health will not depend\non human means or agents, but on the divine grace exercised by\nits saints.\n\n ----------\n\n Dante Alighieri.\n\n\nThe fame of the _Fiero Ghibellino_, as the Italians are wont\nto call Dante Alighieri, is great, not in extensiveness, but in\nweight. Wherever and to whomsoever he is known, his name and his\nworks carry a charm and an authority vouchsafed to only a few in\nthe department of authors. Homer, Dante, and Shakespeare are\n_the_ poets, whose names are enshrined on an elevation above\nthe rest; they breathe, so to speak, in an atmosphere of their\nown. They are, indeed, masters and guides,\n\n \"Maestri di color che sanno.\"\n\nIn truth, to understand their works, the study thereof must needs\nbe made a specialty. Yet even those who have lisped their names\nin their mothers' tongue find that \"_ars longa, vita\nbrevis_.\" The student will drink at those pure fountains with\never-increasing pleasure. \"How often have you been in St.\nPeter's?\" asked of us a venerable monk, the first time we entered\nthe Vatican. \"Never before, sir.\" \"Well,\" replied he, \"I have\nbeen coming here almost every day for the last thirteen years,\nand every day I find some new thing to admire and study!\" The\nsame has been averred by those who have been familiar with Dante,\nHomer, and Shakespeare.\n\n{214}\n\nWe well remember how, in our youth, and in our native schools, we\nwere so trained in the study of Alighieri that it was an easy\nmatter to discover whether an author, be he poet or prose-writer,\nhad been formed on Dante, whether he had drunk at the head\nfountain or at side streams. Only few poets we remember whose\nverses we read with an enchanted devotion--Gasparo Leonarducci,\nof Venice; Vincenzo Monti, of Milan; and Alfonso Varano, of\nFerrara. Of the prose-writers, Paolo Segneri, Sforza Pallavicino,\nof the seventeenth, and Pietro Giordani, of the nineteenth\ncentury, are the only _Danteschi_ in whom we delighted, as\nwe were delighted in reading Homer transformed into the _succum\net saporem_ of the _AEneid_. Those above mentioned were\npoets, historians, and orators, than whom more ardent and\npersevering students of Dante are not recorded in the annals of\nItalian literature. Theirs was not, however, a pedantic\nservility: Dante was the father that engendered their style, the\neagle who provoked them to fly; and they did fly, and soared\nabove the rest, and fixed their pupils on the brightness of the\nsun. Which remarks afford us also the measure by which to value\nthe success of those who have attempted to translate Dante into\nforeign languages, an attempt which to the Italian scholar sounds\nalmost presumptuous. For, if the style and the meaning of Dante\nhave proven a matter of so much difficulty and labor to the\ncountryman of Dante, how much more laborious and difficult must\nthey prove to the foreign-born student?\n\nWhoever attempts to translate a poet must join \"the fidelity of\nrendition to the spirit of a poet.\" The former presupposes a\nthorough knowledge of the two languages, even to the commonest\nidioms. Then, unless one is born a poet, the attempt will be the\nvery madness of folly, which truth receives additional evidence\nwhen the work to be translated is one of transcendent merit in\nits originality; ay, more, when it is _incomparable_:\nincomparable, we mean, as a human work can be.\n\nSuch is the _Divina Commedia_ of Dante Alighieri. Pindaric\nin flights, supernatural in conception, inventive in expression\nand language, (for Dante is \"the father of the Italian tongue,\")\nDante stands before the scholar as a most difficult author. Nor\nare the numberless commentators and voluminous comments, agreeing\nor conflicting, ingenious or absurd, a mean proof of our\nassertion!\n\nCommentators have, in fact, pushed their folly and their\npresumption to an excess equalled only by the absurd twisting of\nHoly Writ in favor of the thousand and one senses which defenders\nof opposite doctrines have fancied they read in one and the same\ntext. A witty Italian imagines he sees Dante crouching low, and\nvainly endeavoring, with wild gesticulations and lusty cries for\nhelp, to parry the blows by which clergymen and laymen, _laico\no cherco_, endeavor to force him to admit such meanings into\nhis words as he never dreamt of; at the same time they, falling\nout among themselves, exchange blows, and throw at each other's\nhead their heavy comments, bound in wood, and rudely embossed\nwith brazen studs. It is related that once the stern poet, while\npassing by a smithy, heard snatches of his poem sung, but so\ninterlarded with strange words, and the ends of verses so bitten\noff, that the grating upon his ears was unendurable: whereupon he\nentered the shop, and fell around wantonly throwing into vast\nconfusion the tools of the churl, who, thinking him mad, rushed\nupon him and yelled: \"What the ---- art thou about?\" \"And what\nart _thou_ doing?\" retorted Dante, sobering down at once.\n{215}\n\"I am at my work, and thou art spoiling my tools!\" replied the\nsmith. \"If thou wishest me to leave thy things alone, leave mine\nalone also.\" \"And, pray, what am I spoiling of thine?\" \"You are\nsinging my verses, but not as I made them; it is the only art I\npossess, and you spoil it.\" [Footnote 92]\n\n [Footnote 92: Had Shakespeare this anecdote in mind when he\n made Orlando cry out, \"I pray you, mar no more of my verses\n with reading them ill-favoredly\"? (_As You Like It_, act\n iii. sc. 2.)]\n\nOn another occasion the poet met a churl driving before him a mob\nof donkeys, and enlivening his wearisome journey by singing also\nsnatches of the divine poem. But, very naturally, he would\nintersperse his songs with an occasional pricking of the haunches\nof his asinine fellow-travellers with the goad, and the shout of\n_arri, arri_--the Italian _g'long, g'long_. Dante at\nonce visited the fellow's back with an earnest blow, and cried:\n\"That _arri, arri_, I never put it in that verse!\" The poor\n_asinaro_ shrugged his shoulders, and darted to one side,\nnot well pleased with the uncouth salutation; but when at a safe\ndistance, ignorant as he was of the cause of the blow and of the\nman who had inflicted it, he thrust his tongue out, and said,\n\"Take that,\" an indecent act even for an Italian boor. Dante\nreplied: \"I would not give mine for a hundred of thine!\"\n\nWhat the smith and the drover did, in their own way, and in\nDante's time, has been repeated down to our days. Volumes might\nbe filled with merely the titles of essays, treatises, and\ntheories, at times ingenious, seldom interesting, always\nbetraying the conceit of the writer. Editions innumerable are\ncrammed with interpretations conflicting with each other, and by\nwhich the sense of the poet has been cruelly distorted. We, who\nhave been reared in the deepest reverence for Dante's orthodoxy,\nhave always felt indignant at the irreligious and unphilosophical\ninordinations to which the _Divina Commedia_ has been made\nto afford foundation and development.\n\nFor the nonce we mean to deal with translations, yet not in a\ngeneral or comprehensive treatise; for to treat of all English\ntranslations of Dante, down to Sir J. F. W. Herschel's, the\nlatest of all, would carry us over fields too extensive and\nuninviting. We have been led to beg for a corner of THE CATHOLIC\nWORLD, in order to introduce to its readers what, after a close\nand careful study, we deem the best of all translations of Dante.\nWe allude to _The First Canticle (Inferno) of the Divine Comedy\nof Dante Alighieri_. Translated by Thomas William Parsons.\nBoston: De Vries, Ibarra & Co. 1867.\n\nThat Mr. Parsons possesses the spirit of a poet, no one who has\nread ever so little of his original compositions will gainsay.\nWhatever he writes has the true ring; there is nothing\ntranscendental in him, and no mannerism; his sentiments are\nspontaneous, and flow into his diction with a naturalness that\ntakes hold of the heart of the reader at once, like a peaceful\nstreamlet mingling its waters with kindred waves. Opening a\ncollection of his poems at random, we do not hesitate to\ntranscribe, without any studied choice, what first offers itself\nto our eye. He writes on the death of his friend, the sculptor\nCrawford, and thus he suddenly gives vent to his feelings:\n\n \"O Death! thou teacher true and rough!\n Full oft I fear that we have erred,\n And have not loved enough;\n But, O ye friends! this side of Acheron,\n Who cling to me to-day,\n I shall not know my love till ye are gone\n And I am gray!\n\n{216}\n\n Fair women, with your loving eyes,\n Old men that once my footsteps led,\n Sweet children--much as all I prize,\n Until the sacred dust of death be shed\n Upon each dear and venerable head,\n I cannot love you as I love the dead!\n\n \"But now, the natural man being sown,\n We can more lucidly behold\n The spiritual one:\n For we, till time shall end,\n Full visibly shall see our friend\n In all his hands did mould--\n That worn and patient hand that lies so cold!\"\n\nOn a Palm-Sunday, as he wends his way to the bedside of a dying\nyoung convert, he begs of a little Catholic girl a twig of the\nblessed palm she is carrying home. Whereupon he extemporizes the\nfollowing:\n\n \"To A Young Girl Dying:\n With A Gift Of Fresh Palm-leaves.\n\n \"This is Palm-Sunday: mindful of the day,\n I bring palm branches, found upon my way:\n But these will wither; thine shall never die--\n The sacred palms thou bearest to the sky!\n Dear little saint, though but a child in years,\n Older in wisdom than my gray compeers!\n _We_ doubt and tremble--_we_, with 'bated breath,\n Talk of this mystery of life and death;\n Thou, strong in faith, art gifted to conceive\n Beyond thy years, and teach us to believe!\n\n \"Then take my palms, triumphal, to thy home,\n Gentle white palmer, never more to roam!\n Only, sweet sister, give me, ere thou go'st,\n Thy benediction--for my love thou know'st!\n We, too, are pilgrims, travelling toward the shrine:\n Pray that our pilgrimage may end like thine!\"\n\nMr. Parsons's poetical gift manifests itself most sensibly in\nwhat might be called \"fugitive pieces.\" They are gems, like the\nabove, and as they are offered to the reader they are at once set\nin the most fitting corner of his heart. We regret our limited\nspace will not allow us to transcribe the poems _To\nMagdalen_, \"Mary from whom were cast out seven devils;\" or the\ndeath of _Mary Booth_; or the _Vespers on the Shores of\nthe Mediterranean_, when the Italian mariner\n\n \"In mare irato in subita procella\n Invoca Te nostra benigna Stella.\"\n\nBut we must be allowed to quote one little poem; an impromptu\none, written on the death of a Catholic prelate (February 13th,\n1866) whose memory is held in benediction by a vast number of our\nreaders:\n\n \"Son of St. Patrick, John, the best of men,\n Boston's blest bishop bids good-by again.\n Not long ago we parted on the shore,\n And said farewell--nor thought to see him more:\n That brain so weary, and that heart so worn\n With many cares! The parting made us mourn.\n But he came back--he could not die in Rome.\n Tho' well might those bones rest by Peter's dome,\n Or Ara Coeil--and the sacred stair\n That climbs the Capitol--or anywhere\n In that queen city. ...\n\n \"Scholar and friend! old schoolfellow, though far\n Past me in learning, that was ne'er a bar\n To our free intercourse; for thou hadst thine\n One muse to worship--leaving me the nine.\n Thy faith was large, even in thy fellow-men:\n And it pleased thee to patronize my pen\n When I turned Horace into English rhyme,\n And thought myself a poet for the time,\n In Latin school-days--but, alas! thy shroud\n Drives from remembrance all this gathering crowd\n Of tender images; farewell to all!\n I cannot think of these beside thy pall.\n Thine, good Fitzpatrick, noble heir of those\n Who went before thee--Fenwick and Bordeaux's\n Gentle apostle Cheverus, and Toussaud--\n Whom in my boyhood I was blest to know.\n\n \"But the bell moves me. Christian, fare thee well.\n I loved my bishop and I mind his bell.\"\n\nLet us now approach our subject more closely. But here the\ndifficulty is how to enable our readers, who are not acquainted\nwith the original Italian, to appreciate the fidelity of the\nAmerican translator--a fidelity the beauty whereof consists in\nthat Mr. Parsons translates almost _literally_ and at the\nsame time his translation _is_ poetry. After all, he is not\nentitled to extraordinary praise who, being endowed with poetical\ngenius, catches the sense of the original and gives it in foreign\nverses. The best plan seems to us to give the text, then a\nliteral (pedantic or lineal) translation, and afterward\nParsons's. Thus, for instance, Dante reads on the architrave over\nthe entrance to hell:\n\n [Transcriber's Note: The arrangement of the text of pages\n 217, 218, and 219 is confusing, including two parallel\n renderings and numerous footnotes. The renderings have been\n placed in sequential order and the footnotes placed following\n the references.]\n\n{217} {218} {219}\n\n \"Per me si va nella citt\u00e0 dolente. [Footnote 93]\n Per me si va nell' eterno dolore:\n Per me si va tra la perduta [Footnote 94] gente.\n Giustizia mosse 'l mio alto Fattore:\n Fecemi la divina Potestate,\n La somma Sapienza, e 'l primo Amore.\n Dinanzi a me non fur cose create,\n Se non eterne, ed io eterna duro:\n Lasciate ogni speranza, voi, che 'ntrate.\"\n\n [Footnote 93: _Dolente_ means sorrow\n without any mixture of hope--\n _wailing and gnashing of teeth_.]\n\n [Footnote 94: _Perduta_, in the sense of\n that _pecunia sit tibi in perditionem_,\n (Acts viii. 20,) absolute condemnation.\n _Uemo perduto_ in Italian is the\n _ruptus disruptusque_ of\n Cicero, a \"gone\" man, beyond all hope\n of moral recovery.]\n\nTo wit:\n Through me you go into the doleful city;\n through me you go into eternal grief;\n through me you go among the lost people.\n Justice moved my lofty Builder;\n Divine Power made me;\n and the supreme Wisdom and the first Love.\n Ere me were no things created--unless eternal, and I eternal last;\n relinquish all hope, you who enter.\n\nNow compare with Parsons's:\n\n \"Through me you reach the City of Despair:\n Through me eternal wretchedness ye find:\n Through me among perdition's tribe ye fare.\n Justice inspired my lofty Founder's mind:\n Power, Love, and Wisdom--Heavenly First Most High--\n Created me. Before me naught had been\n Save things eternal--and eterne am I:\n Leave ye all hope, O ye who enter in!\"\n\nCan any translation be more literal? Can it be more faithful? We\nhave tried to find fault with it, but gave it up in despair; yea,\nthe more we strain our critical eye, the more perfectly does the\noriginal beauty appear reflected in the translation. It is not\nthe reflection of the mirror; it is the reflection of the sun's\nlight on the moon's face.\n\nTo economize room, we shall give no more text: we will only add a\nlineal translation by way of note, presuming on the reader for\nhis trust in our knowledge of both languages, and in our honesty.\n\nThe long extract we are going to make is, perhaps, the noblest\nspecimen of descriptive poetry in the Italian language. It is,\nhowever, founded on a historical mistake, inasmuch as Ugolino was\nstarved to death not by Archbishop Ruggieri, but by Guido da\nMontefeltro, Lord of Pisa. The true account runs thus: Ugolino\ndei Gherardeschi, Count of Donovatico, and a Guelf, had, with the\nconnivance of the archbishop, made himself master of Pisa. But\nhaving put to death a nephew of Ruggieri, and sold some castles\nto the Florentines, that prelate, at the head of an infuriated\nmob, and aided by Gualandi, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, three\npowerful leaders, attacked the count in his own palace, and made\nhim prisoner with his two sons Gaddo and Uguccione, and three\nnephews, Ugolino Brigata, Arrigo, and Anselmuccio. Thus bound,\nthey were all thrown into the donjons of the Tower at the Three\nRoads. Montefeltro, having meanwhile got the power into his own\nhands, forbade any food to be administered to his prisoner rival,\nwhereby Ugolino and the rest died of hunger. Dante,\n(_Inferno_, c. xxxii. and xxxiii.,) admitted to the ninth\ncircle, or bolgia, on entering that part of it which was called\nAntenora, witnessed the horrible punishment of the traitor and of\nthe murderer:\n\n [Transcriber's note: Rendering 1]\n\n \"In a single gap,\n Fast froze together other two I saw,\n So that one head was his companion's cap:\n And as a famished man a crust might gnaw,\n So gnawed the upper one the wretch beneath,\n Just where the neck-bone's marrow joins the brain:\n Not otherwise did Tydeus fix his teeth\n On Menalippus' temples in disdain.\n While thus he mumbled skull and hair and all,\n I cried: 'Ho! thou who show'st such bestial hate\n Of him on whom thy ravenous teeth so fall,\n Why feedest thou thus? On this agreement state:\n That, if thou have good reason for thy spite,\n Knowing you both, and what his crime was, I\n Up in the world above may do thee right,\n Unless the tongue I talk with first grow dry.'\n From his foul feast that sinner raised his jaw,\n Wiping it on the hair, first, of the head\n Whose hinder part his craunching had made raw.\n Then thus: 'Thou wouldst that I renew,' he said,\n 'The agony which still my heart doth wring,\n In thought even, ere a syllable I say;\n But if my words may future harvest bring\n To the vile traitor here on whom I prey\n Of infamy, then thou shalt hear me speak,\n And see my tears too. I know not thy mien,\n Nor by what means this region thou dost seek;\n But by thy tongue thou'rt sure Florentine.\n Know then, Count Ugolino once was I,\n And this Archbishop Ruggieri: fate\n Makes us close neighbors--I will tell thee why.\n 'Tis needless all the story to relate,\n How through his malice, trusting in his words,\n I was a prisoner made and after slain.\n But that whereof thou never canst have heard,\n I mean how cruelly my life was ta'en,\n Thou shalt hear now, and thenceforth know if he\n Have done me wrong. A loophole in the mew\n Which hath its name of Famine's Tower from me,\n And where his doom some other yet must rue,\n Had shown me now already through its cleft\n Moon after moon, when that ill dream I dreamed\n Which from futurity the curtain reft.\n He, in my vision, lord and master seemed,\n Hunting the wolf and wolf-cubs on the height\n Which screeneth Lucca from the Pisan's eye:\n With eager hounds, well trained and lean and light,\n Gualandi and Lanfranchi darted by,\n With keen Sismondi--these the foremost went;\n But after some brief chase, too hardly borne,\n The sire and offspring seemed entirely spent,\n And by sharp fangs their bleeding sides were torn.\n When before morn from sleep I raised my head,\n I heard my boys, in prison there with me,\n Moaning in slumber and demanding bread.\n If thou weep not, a savage thou must be:\n Nay, if thou weep not, thinking of the fear\n My heart foreboded, canst thou weep at aught?\n Now they woke also, and the hour was near\n When used our daily pittance to be brought.\n His dream made each mistrustful; and I heard\n The door of that dread tower nailed up below:\n Then in my children's eyes, without a word,\n I gazed, but moved not; and I wept not: so\n Like stone was I within, that I could not.\n They wept, though, and my little Anselm cried,\n 'Thou look'st so! Father, what's the matter, what?'\n But still I wept not, nor a word replied,\n All that long day, nor all the following night,\n Till earth beheld the sun's returning ray;\n And soon as one faint gleam of morning light\n Stole to the dismal dungeon where we lay,\n And soon as those four visages I saw\n Imaging back the horror of my own,\n Both hands through anguish I began to gnaw;\n And they, believing want of food alone\n Compelled me, started up, and cried, 'Far less,\n Dear father, it will torture us if thou\n Shouldst feed on us! Thou gavest us this dress\n Of wretched flesh--'tis thine, and take it now.'\n So to relieve their little hearts, at last\n I calmed myself, and, all in silence, thus\n That and the next day motionless we past.\n Ah thou hard earth! why didst not ope for us?\n On the fourth morning, Gaddo at my feet\n Cast himself prostrate, murmuring, 'Father! why\n Dost thou not help me? Give me food to eat.\"\n With that he died: and even so saw I,\n As thou seest me now, three more, one by one,\n Betwixt the fifth day and the sixth day fall;\n By which time, sightless grown, o'er each dear son\n I groped, and two days on the dead did call:\n But, what grief could not do, hunger did then.\n This said, he rolled his eyes askance, and fell\n To gnaw the skull with greedy teeth again,\n Strong as a dog upon the bony shell.\n Ah Pisa! shame of all in that fair land\n Where _si_ is uttered, since thy neighbors round\n Take vengeance on thee with a tardy hand,\n Broke be Capraja's and Gorgona's bound!\n Let them dam Arno's mouth up, till the wave\n Whelm every soul of thine in its o'erflow!\n What though _'twas said_ Count Ugolino gave,\n Through treachery, thy strongholds to the foe?\n Thou needst not have tormented so his sons,\n Thou modern Thebes!--their youth saved them from blame--\n Brigata, Hugh, and those two innocent ones\n Whom, just above, the canto calls by name.\"\n\n [Transcriber's note: Rendering 2; the dash at the end of each\n line is probably a typesetting artifact; all the poetic lines\n are run together.]\n\n I saw two _persons_ frozen in one hole,--\n so that one head to the other was hat:--\n and as bread in hunger is eaten,--\n so the uppermost his teeth into the other stuck,--\n there where the brain is joined to the nape.--\n Not otherwise did Tydeus gnaw--\n the temples of Menalippus through disdain--\n than he did the skull and the other things.--\n O thou who showest by so bestial token--\n hatred over him whom thou eatest,--[Footnote 95]\n tell me the why, said I: on such condition,--\n that, if thou with reason of him complainest,--\n knowing who you are, and his offence,--\n in the world above I also may repay thee for it,--\n if that [tongue] with which I speak does not _become_ dry.\n\n The mouth [he] raised from the beastly [Footnote 96] food,--\n that sinner, wiping it on the hair--\n of the head which he had disfigured (maimed) behind.--\n Then [he] began: Thou wishest that I renew--\n desperate grief, which me to the heart oppresses,--\n even only thinking, before I speak of it.--\n But if my words must (may) be a seed--\n that will bear fruit of infamy to the traitor I gnaw,--\n thou shalt see me both speak and weep.--\n I know not who thou be nor by what means--\n art thou come here below; but Florentine--\n _thou_ seemest to me truly, when I hear thee.--\n Thou shouldst know that I was Count Ugolino,--\n and this Archbishop Ruggieri:--\n now I'll tell thee why I am such [Footnote 97] neighbor.--\n How by the means of his evil mind,--\n trusting in him, I was taken--\n and then killed, there is no need of telling.--\n But that which _thou_ canst not have heard, (known), [Footnote 98]\n that is, how cruel my death was,--\n thou shalt hear; and [thou] shalt know whether he hath done me wrong.--\n A narrow hole within the mew-- [Footnote 99]\n which from me has the title of Hunger,--\n and in which it needs that others be confined,--\n had shown me through its opening--\n many moons already, when I had the fatal dream--\n which tore from me the veil of the future.--\n This [man] seemed to me leader and lord,--\n driving the wolf and wolf-cubs [Footnote 100] to the mountain,\n for which the Pisans cannot see Lucca.--[Footnote 101]\n With hounds, [she-hounds,] lean, keen on the scent,\n and well trained, (_cagne magre studiose e conte_,)--\n Gualandi with Sismondi, and with Lanfranchi--\n had [he] put before him in the van.--\n After a short run they seemed to me borne down,--\n the father and the sons, and by those sharp teeth--\n I deemed their sides torn open.--\n When I became awake ere the morning--\n I heard weeping in their sleep my children,--\n who were with me, and ask for bread.--\n Indeed thou art cruel if thou dost not already grieve,--\n thinking of what to my heart was then foreboded:--\n and if thou weepest not, at what art thou wont to weep?--\n They were now awake, and the hour was drawing near--\n when food used to be brought in,--\n and his dream gave each misgivings.--\n And _then_ I heard the door bolted [Footnote 102] below--\n in the horrible tower: whereat I looked--\n into the face of my children without saying a word.--\n I was not weeping, so was I petrified (_impietrai_) within:--\n they were weeping; and my little Anselm--\n said: Thou lookest so! Father, what aileth thee?--\n Yet I shed no tear, nor answered I--\n all that day, nor the following night,--\n until another sun arose over the world.--\n As soon as a little gleam of light (_un poco di raggio_) began to creep--\n into the doleful prison, and I saw in four faces my own very image,\n both my hands through pain I bit;--\n and they, thinking that I did it for wish of food, instantly arose,--\n and said: Father, far less painful will it be to us--\n if thou eatest of us; thou didst dress--\n [us with] this miserable flesh, do thou take it off.--\n I then calmed myself, not to make them more wretched.--\n That day and the next we all lay silent:--\n alas! cruel earth, why didn'tst thou open?--\n After we had reached the fourth day--\n Gaddo threw himself prostrate at my feet,--\n saying: Father mine, why dost thou not help me?--\n There he died; and, as thou seest me,--\n did I see the three fall one by one,--\n betwixt the fifth day and the sixth, whereat I began,--\n already blind, to grope over each:--\n and three days I called them after they were dead.--\n Then more than the grief did the fasting overwhelm me.--\n When he had said this, with eyes distorted--\n he resumed the loathsome skull between his teeth,--\n which, like a dog's, stuck to the bone.--\n Ah Pisa! disgrace to the people--\n of the fair land where the _si_ sounds;--[Footnote 103]\n as thy neighbors are slow to punish thee,--\n let Capraja and Gorgona [Footnote 104] arise,--\n and build a dam on Arno's mouth--\n that may drown every mother's child in thee.--\n For if Count Ugolino had the name--\n of having defrauded thee of thy castles,--\n thou shouldst not have put the children to such torture.--\n Innocent were by their youthful age,--\n Modern Thebes! Uguccione and Brigata,--\n and the other two whom my song has mentioned.\"\n\n [Footnote 95: _Ti mangi_, \"thou selfishly holdest for\n thy dainty food.\" This is one of those idioms expressed by\n the reciprocal pronoun \"ti,\" almost impossible to translate.\n Its meaning is felt only by the native Italian.]\n\n [Footnote 96: _Fiero_, here as the carcass on which a\n beast of prey will feed, from _fiera_, savage beast.]\n\n [Footnote 97: _Tal vicino_, a neighbor so barbarously\n distressing another.]\n\n [Footnote 98: _Inteso Udire_, hear by chance;\n _ascoltare_, to listen, _intendere_, to understand\n what you hear, or are told.]\n\n [Footnote 99: _Muda_, the place where the republic's\n eagles were kept during moulting-time. _Mudare_, to\n moult.]\n\n [Footnote 100: Ugolino had the dream while suffering the\n acute pangs of hunger. He dreamt of a famished wolf and its\n whelps, hunted by she-hounds, under which allegory he\n recognizes the Ghibellines, himself being a Guelf.]\n\n [Footnote 101: _San Giuliano_, a mountain between\n Pisa and Lucca.]\n\n [Footnote 102: The Pisans, about eight months after Ugolino's\n imprisonment, bolted the dungeon's massive doors, locked\n them, and threw the keys into the Arno.]\n\n [Footnote 103: Dante calls the language of Southern France\n the language of _oc_, and the Italian the language of\n _si_; both _oc_ and _si_ meaning \"yes.\"]\n\n [Footnote 104: Two small islands at the mouth of the Arno.]\n\nWe had marked one or two more pieces for transcription, but we\ndeem it useless; for a diligent collation of Mr. Parsons's text\nwith the literal translation we have given _ad calcem_ will\nat once convince the reader of the faithfulness of the work. Of\ncourse, it would be absurd to expect that words were rendered for\nwords. It is simply impossible. Again: there are words which\ncannot be rendered. We know the Italian language pretty well--and\nwhy shouldn't we?--yet we have never been able to find the\nItalian word corresponding with the English \"home\"; nor have\ntwenty-three years of close and earnest study of the English\nlanguage yet enabled us to find an English word corresponding\nwith the Italian _vagheggiare_. We say, \"He was lost in the\ncontemplation of a picture:\" the Italian will simply say,\n\"_Vagheggiava la pittura._\" Translate, if you can, \"L'amante\nvagheggia la sua bella!\" You can do it no more than the Italian\ncan render with corresponding meaning the words, \"Home! sweet\nhome!\"\n\nIn our opinion a too literal translation will not give us Dante;\nit will only give his words. Although we must admit that the\nmeaning of the word, as it conveys the idea, must be scrupulously\nrendered as well as the idiom, yet it is evident that too great\nan anxiety in translating the word into that which bears the\ngreatest resemblance to the original may lead into a\nmisconception or misrepresentation of the author's idea. In an\nelaborate article in the _Atlantic Monthly_, of August,\n1867, the word _height_, employed by Mr. Longfellow in his\ntranslation of Dante, (_Purgat_, xxviii. v. 106,) receives\nthe preference over _summit_, employed by Cary. True,\n_height_ is the literal rendition for _altezza_; yet\nDante there employs _altezza_ not in its literal meaning,\nwhich is one of measurement, but in that of a _summit_, or a\n_top_. A comparison with parallel cases in the\n_Commedia_ will bear us out in our remark. We must not be\nunderstood as if we meant to prefer Cary to Longfellow. By no\nmeans: for the former gives us Cary's Dante, whereas the latter\ngives us, if we may be allowed the expression, _Dante's\nDante._ Which remark, however, must not be taken as if we were\ndisposed to endorse the fidelity of every line of the American\ntranslator.\n{220}\nThe very narrow limits to which he has confined himself often\nplace him under the necessity of employing words which convey not\nthe original's idea; while, on the other hand, often must he add\nwords in order to fill up his line; for example,\n\n \"When he had said this, with _his_ eyes distorted.\"\n\nThat _his_ Dante never put there; why, it is a pleonasm.\n\nWhile we do not like nor did ever like the freedom of Cary, nay,\nhave felt indignant at the liberties he has taken with the text,\nwe are amazed at the boldness with which Mr. Longfellow has\nendeavored to master his Procrustean difficulties; but we give\npreference to the work of Dr. Parsons, because his translation is\neasy (_disinvolta_, the Italians would call it) and yet\nfaithful; it is poetical, and yet we challenge our readers to\npoint to any idea which is not conveyed to the English mind in\nscrupulous fidelity to Dante's ideas. He sits in Alighieri's\nchair, and he is at home.\n\nWere we requested by him who knew Italian only moderately as to\nthe easiest method to understand and enjoy Dante, we would say:\nRead the text, collating it verse for verse with Longfellow; then\nread Parsons. Yet, to be candid, we hope no American scholar will\nform his idea of Dante's transcendental merit on the translation\nof Mr. Longfellow, who, it must be admitted, has done more\nmeritorious work in behalf of Dante than the one hundred thousand\nand one who have written comments on him. But one feels a painful\nsensation in alighting from Dante's text on Longfellow's\ntranslation, whereas the transition from the perusal of the\noriginal to Parsons's causes no jerking in our soul, and the\npleasure, _decies repetita_, never abates. To the Italian\nscholar Mr. Longfellow's translation will never prove\nsatisfactory.\n\nLest our readers should think that we are _blind_ admirers\nof Dr. Parsons, we will conclude this part of our paper with the\nremark that we wish different words were in a few occasions\nemployed by him. Thus, for instance, the word, \"in blackest\nletters,\" (_Inf_. c. iii, v. 10,) do not convey the full\nmeaning of Dante's \"parole di colore oscuro.\" Of course the\ndoctor can easily defend his rendition (and we know he long\npondered on the suitableness of the word) with the obvious remark\nthat a _scoundrel_ may be _black_ without being an\nAbyssinian, hence his \"blackest letters\" must be taken in a moral\nsense; yet it requires an after-thought to understand it, whereas\nthe word \"oscuro\" at once hints at something black in itself and\ndreadful in its forebodings. But what English word will convey\nthe idea?\n\nOur article, incomplete as it is, would yet appear more deficient\nwere we not to give our readers a general idea of what the\n_Divina Commedia_ is, what it proposes to convey to the\nreader's mind. Were we to form an idea of the nature of this poem\nfrom what has been written about it, we should call it _a\nsaddle_. For there is no system, theological, philosophical,\nor political, the supporters whereof have not taken their proofs\nfrom Dante. According to some, Dante was a Catholic devotee;\nwhile others, especially in these our days, will represent him as\nthe most determined and conscientious foe of everything Catholic,\n_et sic de ceteris_.\n\n{221}\n\nIn the language of an accurate modern Italian scholar, \"Dante\nlifted the Italian language from its cradle, and laid it on a\nthrone: in spite of the rudeness of the times not yet freed from\nbarbarism, he dared to conceive a poem, in which he embodied\nwhatever there was most abstruse in philosophical and theological\ndoctrines; in his three canticles he massed whatever was known in\nthe scientific world; after the example of Homer and Virgil, he\nknew how to select a national subject which would interest all\nItaly, nay, all whose hearts were warmed by the warmth of\nCatholic faith; in a word, he became the mark either of decay or\nof prosperity in the Italian literature, which was always\nenhanced according as his divine poem was studied and\nappreciated, or laid aside and neglected.\" [Footnote 105]\n\n [Footnote 105: Cav. G. Maffei,\n _Storia Lit. Ital._ I. iii.]\n\nDante was born in Florence, in March, 1265, and died in Ravenna\nan exile in 1321, September 14. His father's name was Alighiero\ndegli Alighieri. His education was as perfect as the times could\nafford in science, belles-lettres, and arts. When only nine years\nold he became acquainted with Beatrice di Folco Portinari, a\nyoung damsel of eight summers, but endowed with great gifts of\nsoul and body, and her praises he sang in prose and verse, and to\nher he allotted a distinguished place in paradise. Dante served\nhis country faithfully both in the councils of peace and under\nthe panoply of war. When only thirty-five years old, he attained\nthe highest dignity in the gift of his countrymen. On the\noccupation of Florence by Charles of Valois, whose pretensions he\nhad opposed and so far thwarted, Dante was banished from\nFlorence, (Jan. 27, 1302.) At the time, he was in Rome\nendeavoring to interest Pope Boniface VIII. in behalf of his dear\nFlorence. Dante never saw his native place again, but after\nnineteen years of exile and poverty he died highly honored and\nvery tenderly cared for by the Polentas, the masters of Ravenna.\n\nDante was the author of many excellent works; but to the\n_Divina Commedia_he owes that fame by which he stands of all\nthe Italians _facile princeps_. At first, it was his\nintention to write his poem in Latin verse; but seeing that that\nlanguage was not understood by all, and many even among the\neducated laity could not read it, and just then the great\ntransformation of the new language taking place he wisely\nconceived the plan of gathering all the words which were then\nused from the Alps to the sea, and exhibited a uniformity of\nsound and formation, and thus to write a poem that might be\ncalled national, and at the same time be a bond that would unite\nall the Italian hearts. This may be looked upon as the political\nor patriotic aim of his work. A moral end had he then in view:\nthus, laying down as the principle of common destiny that man was\ncreated for the double end of enjoying an imperishable happiness\nhereafter, to be attained by securing a happiness in this world,\nwhich should arise from attending to the pursuits of virtue, in\n_Paradise_ he described the former, which cannot be attained\nwithout a soul entirely detached from the affections of this\nearth, a process of schooling one's self and purification so well\nrepresented by what he imagines to have witnessed in\n_Purgatory_. But as the soul needs be animated to do works\nof justice by the promise of reward, as well as by the\nintimidation of deadly punishment, so he depicts the horrors to\nwhich the lost people, those who were dead to even the aspiration\nof a virtuous nature, will be doomed in _Hell_.\n\nNaturally, this triple state of the soul, lost, redeeming\nherself, glorified, gave him a chance of embodying into his work\ntheological expositions of the duties of man, of the working of\ngrace, and of the economy of religion; revelation, natural\nreligion, and science, all in turn lend him a helping hand.\n{222}\nAnd because examples should be adduced to practically prove the\ntruth of his assertions, he freely quotes from the past and from\nthe present; and while he is perfectly alive to the importance of\nplacing in high relief the beautiful deeds of those who gained\nglory in paradise because of their being faithful to the behests\nof faith and religion in whatever concerns our relations to God,\nourselves, and our neighbors, at the same time, his heart burning\nwith love for his country, he will admit of no mitigation in the\nConduct Of such as he considers unfaithful to it or in the least\nhostile to that Florence he loved so well.\n\nAnd here we pause. We have not done justice to the subject: we\nhave not said all we could wish about Dante and Mr. Parsons. Yet\nwe hope the few remarks we have made will enkindle in the breast\nof some of our readers a desire of becoming better acquainted\nwith the father of Italian literature, the idol of the Italian\nstudent, the _Fiero Ghibellino_:\n\n \"Onorate l'altissimo Poeta.\"\n\n ----------\n\n Aspirations.\n\n O dread Jehovah! who before the world\n Had being dwelt eternal and alone,\n Ere yet our planet on its path was hurled\n Through space, ere angel or archangel shone,\n Ere waves had learned to roll or winds to sweep,\n And darkness brooded on the mighty deep!\n\n Thy glance searched through infinity around,\n And there was none save thee; thy spirit warm\n Moved over chaos, and its vast profound\n Heaved up a thousand worlds, dark, without form.\n \"Let there be light!\" And, kindled at thy ray,\n Burst radiant morning teeming with the day.\n\n And what am I to thee? A raindrop placed\n In an o'erteeming cloud?\n A snowflake drifting o'er the northern waste\n When winds are loud?\n An atom or a nothing where sublime\n Worlds, planets piled, thy praise unceasing chime?\n\n Not so; for in thy living image made,\n Conscious of will, of immortality,\n In thy tremendous attributes arrayed,\n Like thee, a Lord, yielding alone to thee--\n What awful dignity! what power divine!\n A semblance of infinitude is mine.\n\n{223}\n\n Yet did thy breath no less\n Create me; sprung from thy eternal fires,\n I glow; without thee, I am nothingness;\n Thy wisdom guides me and thy love inspires.\n \"Give me thy heart\"--O strange benignity!\n What is a mortal's heart, O God! to thee?\n\n My bursting heart expands\n To meet thee, and thy presence weighs me down:\n He who contains the heavens within his hands,\n Annihilating systems with his frown,\n Comes clad in garments of mortality\n To dwell on this dim, shadowy earth with me.\n\n For what shall I exchange thee? For the shine\n Of worldly pomp and pageantry and power?\n This spark, within eternal and divine,\n Spurns the false baubles of a fleeting hour.\n Thou art all glory, power, infinity--\n Thou _art_; what can I want, possessing thee?\n\n Thou shalt unchanged behold\n The starry host, quenched like a firebrand, die;\n The firmament is as a vesture rolled\n Around thee--as a vesture 'tis cast by.\n A thousand years are nothing in thy sight--\n Or as a watch that passes in the night.\n\n And when this earth shall fly\n To atoms; when the mountains shall be tossed\n As chaff; when like a scroll rolls back the sky,\n And Nature and her laws for ever lost;\n When thou shalt speak in fire the dread command\n And hurl it from the hollow of thy hand--\n\n What hope for me? Thy promises sublime\n That o'er the wreck of worlds I shall survey,\n With eye unmoved, beyond the touch of Time,\n The stars grow dark, the melting heavens decay,\n And sit arrayed in immortality\n In peace eternal and supreme with thee.\n\n C. E. B.\n\n ----------\n\n{224}\n\n Shall we have a Catholic Congress?\n\n\nAll our readers must have read with interest the account given of\nthe last Catholic Congress at Malines. The importance and utility\nof such assemblies are generally understood. Shall we have a\nCatholic Congress? The feasibility of introducing it into the\nUnited States can scarcely be doubted. The people here are more\naccustomed to self-government than in Europe. We are thoroughly\nacquainted with the management and rules of popular, deliberative\nassemblies. We have learned members of the clergy, and educated\nlaymen, who appreciate the value of a congress, and are competent\nto render its workings practical and make its deliberations\neffective. The episcopacy is ever ready to aid undertakings for\nthe benefit of religion. There can, therefore, be no doubt of\nobtaining the necessary sanction from the ecclesiastical\nhierarchy for the assembling of the congress.\n\nWho, then, will begin it? And when will it be held? Many earnest\nCatholics of the country, who have seen the great benefits\nderived to Belgium and France from the congresses at Malines; and\nto Germany from those at Munich and elsewhere; who have witnessed\nthe powerful influence for propagating doctrines and\nconcentrating forces of the sectarian or philanthropical\nassemblies which annually meet in New York or elsewhere, are\nasking these questions. Our forces are scattered; a congress\nwould unite them. There is no centre, no unanimity, no harmony of\naction among us in reference to many important matters which\nmight be treated of in a congress.\n\nLet us briefly enumerate some of the objects which could be\ndiscussed and studied in an assembly of our learned clergy and\neducated laity.\n\nFREE SUNDAY AND DAY SCHOOLS, their regulation and amelioration,\nmight be one of the objects. In large cities like New York,\nBaltimore, Boston, and Philadelphia, where Catholics are, many of\nthem, wealthy and instructed, the teachers of parochial or Sunday\nschools are often highly capable of conducting their\nestablishments. The large cities afford so many opportunities of\nstudy and improvement that every one can learn. But in the poor\ncountry districts, how is it? The teachers are isolated. They\nneed more system. There is no central point to which they may\nlook for light. The rural clergy in remote districts are often\nsuffering from want of some large and powerful organization which\ncould assist them in their labors, either for the improvement of\ntheir schools, their choirs, etc., or for the counteracting of\nProtestant propagandism.\n\nThe influence which has been exercised on education in Belgium by\nthe Catholic congresses is well known. The labors of the German\nCatholic congresses is not so public. The Nineteenth General\nAssembly of the Catholic associations of Germany took place at\nBamberg, in Bavaria, during the interval between the 31st of\nAugust and the 3d of September, A.D. 1868. These German\ncongresses, like those of Belgium, are composed of laymen as well\nas ecclesiastics. They exclude all political questions from their\nsessions.\n{225}\nTheir only aim is to sustain and support the Catholic cause. In\nthe three first meetings, one at Mayence, in 1848, under the\npresidency of the Chevalier Buss; the other at Breslau, presided\nover by M. Lieber, while the city was in a state of siege, in\n1849; and in the third, held at Ratisbon in 1850, the members\norganized a unity of action among the societies of St. Vincent de\nPaul, established schools and reading-rooms in the interest of\nCatholic literature, and watched over the religious wants of the\nGermans in Paris and throughout the rest of France. The Congress\nof Ratisbon, presided over by Count Joseph de Stolberg, founded\nthe Society of St. Boniface, which has since then realized the\nsum of $700,000, and by this means established one hundred and\nten missions and one hundred and fifty schools for the poor\nGerman Catholics living in Protestant countries.\n\nM\u00fcnster, in Westphalia, had a Congress in 1852. The president was\nthe Baron of Andlau. In it was discussed the method which the\nCatholic associations could take to promote Christian education\nand to found a Catholic university. These deliberations were\ncontinued the following year at the Vienna Congress, where Dr.\nZell presided. In 1856, at another Congress, in which Count\nO'Donnel was president, the foundation of children's asylums was\ndiscussed. Salzburg was proposed as the seat of the Catholic\nuniversity. The Salzburg Congress, in 1857, was specially\noccupied with this project, and with the means of developing the\npower of the Catholic press, founding Catholic publication\nsocieties, and giving pecuniary aid to the Catholics of the East.\nAt Freyburg, in 1859, the Congress, presided over by the Count de\nBrandis, treated of the Catholic press and religious music. The\nThirteenth Congress at Munich, in 1861, founded the literary\nreview known as the _Litterarischer Handweiser_, edited by\nHulskam and Rump, at M\u00fcnster.\n\nThe Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, in the following year, took up\nagain the question of the establishment of a Catholic university.\nA committee was appointed to found it; but the government opposed\nthem. This rather excited than diminished the zeal of the\npersevering German Catholics. Professor Moeller, of Louvain, on\nthis occasion said: \"_The word impossible is not\nChristian._\" There was not one of those congresses that did\nnot oppose the secularization of education; not one of them that\ndid not materially and morally aid the cause of Christian\ndoctrine.\n\nIn these German congresses we have a good model to imitate.\nIsolated attempts to obtain public support for our own schools\nwill rarely if ever succeed. There must be union; a union of the\nCatholic brain, intelligence, and wealth, not only in one state,\nbut all over the country.\n\nOur CATHOLIC REFORMATORIES is another object worthy the attention\nof a Catholic congress. No one can exaggerate the importance of\nthese institutions. That of New York, supported and maintained by\nour good and zealous archbishop, has produced incalculable\nbenefits in our city already. A Catholic congress would\nstrengthen the hands of our zealous prelate; would increase the\nefficiency of the institution; would encourage the Catholics of\nother cities, where they are not already established, to found\nsimilar establishments for the orphaned or homeless children who\nswarm in our country. How many of the poor sons and daughters of\nour Catholic emigrants are lost for ever to faith and virtue in\nour cities!\n{226}\nWill not their blood cry out on the last day against their\nfellow-Christians, who have the wealth and the intelligence, but\nnot the zeal, to save them from a life of crime and ignominy?\n\nThe ST. VINCENT DE PAUL SOCIETIES could also profit by union of\naction among the different conferences throughout the country. In\nthe South, especially, the war has multiplied widows and orphans.\nThe poor there have not the same advantages as in the North. Some\nof the dioceses were poor before the war. They are now all very\npoor. The bishops and priests are trying to build up what the\nsword or the cannon destroyed. It is true there are regular\nassemblies of the different conferences; but they need a stronger\nimpulse from without to make them flourish as they should and as\nthey are needed.\n\nThen there is the question of RELIGIOUS MUSIC, [Footnote 106]\nwhich none of the European congresses ever omit in their\ndeliberations.\n\n [Footnote 106: Professor Jacovacci, of the Propaganda\n College, in a recent circular to the bishops, urges this\n point on the next General Council.]\n\nWe are not disposed to find fault; but every one knows that the\nmusic of our churches is frequently anything but rubrical or\necclesiastical. We are in favor of the best music; the very best,\nwhether it be figured or plain chant; but let it be at least\nCHURCH music, not rehashed operas. We know that many of the\npastors are unable to procure singers who are competent to render\nCatholic music as it should be in our churches. We need a\nCatholic training-school of music. A Catholic conservatory might\neasily be formed in New York. It is no exaggeration to say that\nthe best of the foreign musicians in the United States are\nCatholics, whether they be remarkable for their skill with\ninstruments or for the culture of their voices. There is besides\nmuch native talent, which only needs the opportunity to become\ndistinguished. Let there be founded a national Catholic\nconservatory of music, with prizes and exhibitions; let the\nmembers of it see that their efforts will be even pecuniarily and\nprofitably remunerated, and we venture to predict that in a short\ntime America will stand as high as her European sisters in\nreligious music. Toward the close of the last Malines Congress, a\nmultitude of Belgian Catholic amateurs gave an oratorio on the\n_Last Judgment_, which was magnificent. A Catholic\nconservatory of music in New York could give similar\nentertainments, as an appropriate termination to our Catholic\ncongresses, and be able thereby to pay all its expenses, and have\neven much left with which to remunerate its members.\n\nLIBRARIES, READING-ROOMS, and the PRESS could also be discussed.\nNothing will do more good in a community than a supply of good\nreading matter. We have already discussed the method of founding\nfamily and Sunday-school libraries in the pages of this magazine.\nA Catholic congress would encourage those who wished to found\nthem; would bring out the energies of many of the laity and\nclergy who only seek a good opportunity to display them. In this\nrespect we might learn a lesson from many of the Protestant\nsects. Whatever we may think of the real zeal of Protestants,\nhowever much we may condemn their external show of piety, their\nconfounding Christian charity with philanthropism, we must admire\nthe energy which they manifest in the cause of education. No\nchurch of theirs but has its Bible class, its well-organized\nSunday-school, its Sunday-school library, its young men's\nassociation, reading-room, and newspaper.\n{227}\nNo doubt these are but the accidentals of Christianity; but they\nhelp very much in propagating or sustaining the essentials.\n\nIt is certain that our CATHOLIC PRESS does not receive all the\nsupport which it deserves. We have Catholic newspapers, which\ncould be rendered much more useful and efficient were they better\npatronized; and as for our magazine, our readers must judge\nwhether we do not endeavor our utmost to satisfy their\nintellectual wants. In Europe, every petty, poor Catholic\ncommunity is willing to support a journal. We often find many\nreviews flourishing in countries far less wealthy and populous\nthan our own. Ought not the five millions of Catholics of the\nUnited States to give THE CATHOLIC WORLD a subscription list of\nat least fifty thousand? And if they do not, what is the reason?\nIs it because they are poor? No, but because there is no central\npoint from which the current of electricity can be sent leaping\nthrough the brain and heart of our population. Let us have a\ncongress for these purposes also.\n\nThen there is the project of a CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY. Every day we\nread of wealthy gentlemen leaving donations of thousands of\ndollars to educational establishments belonging to the state or\nto religious denominations other than Catholic. In Europe this is\nalso a common custom. We have read of Mr. Peabody's donation to\nYale College. Girard, an infidel, founded the institution in\nPhiladelphia which bears his name. Our Catholic millionaires of\nNew York and other cities, we are sure, only need to be asked to\nshow their generosity in the founding of a Catholic university.\nSeveral of the petty German states have theirs. Even impoverished\nIreland has had the courage to originate one. Will not rich\nAmerica follow her example? What is wanting? Not the money; not\nthe patronage; not the ability to conduct it; but simply that\nthere is no united, powerful body of Catholics to undertake it.\nGive us a congress, and we can have this union; a congress of the\nbrain, good sense, and faith of the American church.\n\nAre we to have a school of CATHOLIC ARTISTS in this country?\nShall we do anything to promote the Catholic arts of painting,\nsculpture, and architecture? What style of church ornament shall\nwe keep? Shall we cultivate the taste of our clergy in these\nmatters? After what fashion shall our churches be built? Will we\nmake no effort to unite the Catholic architects and artists of\nthe country to consult, compare their experiences, and improve\ntheir taste and talent by mutual contact? They individually\ndesire to be brought together. There is no true artist who does\nnot wish for an opportunity to be appreciated; and where can so\njust an appreciation of an artist's work be had as in a Catholic\ncongress of American Catholic talent which would influence even\nthe remotest parts of our vast country?\n\nOur priests all feel the want more or less of a central point to\nwhich they can look with safety for _proper vestments, altar\nfurniture_, and _altar wine_, It may be suspected without\nrashness that many of the merchants who sell wines for the altar\nare not always reliable. In many cases the wine is adulterated.\nIn such a state of uncertainty, would it not be well to have a\n\"Bureau of Safety\" established? Would it not be well to have some\nauthorized and reliable agents who could transport to this\ncountry, cheaply and safely, some of the treasures of\nEurope--vestments, chalices, pictures, and the like--instead of\nobliging every priest to depend on his own individual knowledge,\nor leave him at the mercy of some purely mercantile monopoly?\n{228}\nIf there were a Catholic congress, all this state of disorder\ncould be remedied, if not in one year, at least in two or three.\nThere are zealous Catholics enough in the country to devote a\nportion of their time to the general interests of religion.\n\nThe condition of CATHOLIC PRISONERS in jails or penitentiaries\ncould form not the least important object of a Catholic assembly.\nThere are many unfortunate members of our church in the prisons\non the neighboring islands of New York who are in the best\ndispositions to profit by spiritual consolation, yet they have no\nbooks, save the few which the devoted chaplain may give them when\ncharity affords him the necessary funds. The prisoners in more\nremote districts are worse off. Does it not stir up the fire of\nzeal in the heart of a Catholic to know that he can save a soul,\nreclaim the vicious, and give consolation to a poor wretch who\nmay have unfortunately forgotten the sanctity prescribed by his\nreligion? Would not a supply of good books be a godsend to\nCatholic prisoners? Would it not tend to reform them, to beguile\ntheir weary hours, and sanctify them? Now, a Catholic congress\ncould establish a permanent committee, to see that the prisons of\nthe country were supplied with Catholic literature. If we want to\nconvert the United States, we must be in earnest about our work.\nWe must take every method that our means will enable us to use\nand our piety suggest. Let Catholic doctrines percolate through\nthe veins of society not only by preaching in our churches, but\nby spreading Catholic tracts, Catholic newspapers, Catholic books\nin the city, in the country, in the work-house, even in the jail\nand penitentiary. Let our religion be like its Founder, \"going\nabout everywhere doing good:\" \"_pertransiit benefaciendo._\"\n\nAlthough centralization, in a political point of view, when\ncarried to excess, is injurious to liberty, too much\nindividualism is equally pernicious, for it entails too much\nresponsibility. A Catholic congress would not destroy individual\nzeal, but only concentrate it. A Catholic congress could coerce\nno man's will. It would only be an index to show men what they\ncould do; to ask them to be unanimous and to pull together.\n\nThe details of the congress could be arranged at its meeting. The\nconstitution and by-laws of the Malines congresses, or of those\nwhich succeeded so admirably in Germany, could be adopted with\nslight modifications. The approbation of the Holy Father would be\ngiven to it as to those in Europe. Our venerable archbishops and\nbishops would sanction it. The prelate in whose diocese it would\nassemble might preside at its deliberations or appoint a\nsubstitute. Committees would be appointed, some permanent, others\ntransitory.\n\nIn the interest of the laity, then, we ask for a Catholic\ncongress. We ask for it in the interest of the clergy also, who\nare anxious to keep up their own tone of respectability, and at\nthe same time influence by unanimity the great work of the\nconversion of the whole United States to Catholicity.\n\n ----------\n\n{229}\n\n Translated From Le Correspondant.\n\n The Present Disputes in Philosophy and Science.\n\n By Dr. Chauffaid, of The Imperial Academy Of Medicine.\n\n\n I.\n\nPhilosophy or rather philosophical discussions are being renewed.\nOn the one hand, materialism rages like a tempest over the\nregions of science; menacing our scientific, intellectual, and\nmoral past and future with destruction. On the other side, we\nbehold noble efforts, beautiful works, and eloquent\nprotestations, on the part of reason and liberty, in favor of the\ndignity of human nature against the debasing tenets of\npositivism. We know what shall be the result of this struggle.\nMaterialistic doctrines and hypotheses can never conquer the best\naspirations and real glory of humanity. But if final triumph is\ncertain, when will it take place? Immediately, or only after a\npassing victory of the great philosophical error of the day? This\nis a serious question; for a temporary victory by materialism\nwould be a fatal sign of our time, and humiliate our race beyond\nanything that can be imagined. The philosophical discussions,\ntherefore, which have been raised around us are not a mere\nuseless noise; but they are the most important subject for our\nconsideration, bearing with them great destinies--those of\nscience, and perhaps of national life.\n\nTo appreciate the true character of the materialistic movement\nwhich is stirring every layer of society, and whose action the\nlearned and the ignorant equally feel, we must examine all the\nremote and proximate, latent and manifest, causes which influence\nthe currents, the ebb and flow of materialism. It would be well\nto determine how actual materialism has its exclusive origin and\nits new sources in the bowels of modern science; what new support\nit has met with in recent scientific discoveries, and what are\nthe value and bearing of those discoveries.\n\nIn beholding the tumult which the partisans of the experimental\nmethod in philosophy create, the enthusiasm which they show, and\nthe passionate defence of their theory, one would suppose they\nhad made a new conquest of the human mind, and made some\nastounding discovery. Yet we know what the exact value of the\nexperimental method is. Why, then, so much nervous excitement\nover it? Yet the excitement is probably only artificial; still it\nhas an aim. The experimental method is clamorously extolled for\nthe purpose of covering with its authority sophisms destructive\nof all philosophy and of all science. This method is a great flag\nunder which all causes that are not science are sheltered. M.\nCaro, in his excellent book, _Materialism and Science_, has\nendeavored to dispel all confusion on this subject, and to\nre-establish facts and the truth. Positivism--which must not be\nconfounded with positive science--tries to unite its destiny with\nthat of the experimental method; calling itself the necessary\nfruit of the latter, the systematized result of a method which\nsubjects all visible nature to man. Positivism concludes from the\npremises that it has the same certainty as the experimental\nmethod.\n\n{230}\n\nM. Caro, with a strong hand, upsets all such pretensions. He\ndemonstrates that, if positivism has skilfully stolen the name\nand some of the processes of positive science, the experimental\nschool, to which the positive sciences owe so much, owes nothing\nto positivism. Taking for guide, in the study of the experimental\nmethod, one of the _savants_ who understands it best, and\nwho, after practising it successfully, has exposed its precepts\nwith incomparable authority, M. Caro proves that this method is\nnot bound by the tyranny of positivism. \"Nothing is less evident\nto my eyes,\" he writes, \"than the agreement of M. Cl. Bernard's\nmanner of thinking with certain essential principles of\npositivism. His independence is clearly manifested especially in\nregard to two points: Firstly, in opposition to the spirit of the\npositive doctrine, he gives place to the idea _a priori_ in\nthe constitution of science. Secondly, contrary to one of the\nmost decided dogmas of the positivist school, he leaves a great\nmany open questions, and thus allows his readers to revert to\nmetaphysical conceptions for their solution.\"\n\nIn the thought of M. Cl. Bernard, the _a priori_ element\nloses all absolute sense and becomes a purely relative and\naccidental fact. It has no longer any of those eternal forms of\nthe understanding, of those necessary conceptions through the aid\nof which the human mind sees and judges the things of nature,\ncontingent facts, and phenomena which happen before our eyes. It\nis not that power, obscure yet admirable reflection of the divine\npower, which enables us to apprehend the immutable relations of\nthings, and establishes science by compelling us, by an\nirresistible attraction, to seek in their cause the reason of\nphenomena. No; M. Cl. Bernard does not rise directly to that\nalliance of the infinite and finite, of cause and effect, which\ntakes place in the active depths of the human mind. To this great\nexperimentalist the idea _a priori_ is revealed only in face\nof experience; it is an instinct, a sudden illumination which\nstrikes and seizes the mind, when the senses act and perceive, as\nimpassible and mute witnesses. \"Its apparition is entirely\nspontaneous and individual. It is a particular sentiment, a\n_quid proprium_, which constitutes the originality, the\ninvention, and genius of every man. It happens that a fact--that\nan observation--remains for a long time before the eyes of a\n_savant_ without inspiring him with anything, when suddenly\na ray of light flashes on him. The new idea appears then with the\nrapidity of lightning, as a sort of sudden revelation.\" This\nflash, this ray of light, is well known to medical tradition, and\noften called tact, sense, and medical skill. These expressions\nwill exist notwithstanding the denials of a narrow science, which\nthinks to ennoble itself by suppressing art. There are physicians\nwho, in face of the obscure manifestations of a disease,\nperceive, with a rapid and sure intuition, the hidden relations\nof the malady, its nature buried in the living depths of the\norganization, its future tendencies and probable solutions. This\nintuition has nothing mysterious in it, and is not the play of a\ncapricious fancy; it is the flash of light, the new idea, the\nsudden revelation, of which M. Cl. Bernard, the learned\n_savant_ and most severe of experimentalists, writes. This,\nthen, is what M. Cl. Bernard calls the idea _a priori;_\ncertainly he does not pretend nor think that he is writing\nmetaphysics.\n{231}\nNevertheless, when we attentively consider it, is not this idea\n_a priori_ a species of prolongation or consequence of the\nnecessary ideas, the true ideas _a priori_, of the human\nmind? Is not the idea _a priori_ a perception of a cause\nthrough its effects; at one time the perception of a contingent\nand particular cause; and again the perception of a cause in\nitself--of the supreme, necessary, and infinite cause? Does not\nM. Cl. Bernard himself seem to admit metaphysical conceptions,\nwhen, after considering the spontaneity of the intellect under a\ngeneral aspect, he writes as follows, \"It may be said that we\nhave in the mind the intuition or sentiment of the laws of\nnature, but we do not know their form\"?\n\nThe experimental school has not, however, determined this point\nof doctrine; it has so confusedly felt and expressed it that the\npositivist school could not avoid refuting those rather vague\naspirations, and admit, without denying its own principles, those\nsoarings of the understanding in presence of facts. But the\nexperimental school, of which M. Cl. Bernard is the interpreter,\nputs itself in opposition to positivism. He allows those high\ntruths which cannot be demonstrated by sensible phenomena to have\nsome place in science. He tells us that true science suppresses\nnothing, but always seeks and considers, without being troubled,\nthose things which it does not understand. \"Deny those things,\"\nsays M. Cl. Bernard, \"and you do not suppress them; you shut your\neyes and imagine that there is no light.\" Positivism could not be\nmore formally condemned by positive science.\n\nWill it be pretended that, although the experimental school\naccepts the order of metaphysical truths, it rejects, them\ndisdainfully when there is question of the natural sciences; and\nthat thus rejected by science they cannot be counted among the\nserious knowledge of humanity? Nothing could be more unjust than\nsuch a condemnation; for nothing proves that there is not another\nknowledge besides that of experience. M. Cl. Bernard discovers,\neven in the order of biological truths, capital truths which are\nnot at all experimental, susceptible of a _real\ndeterminism_, to use the expression of which he is so fond.\nWhen he tries to define life by using a word which expresses\nexactly the idea, he calls it _creation_. In every living\ngerm he admits a _creating idea_, which is developed by\norganization, and is derived neither from chemistry nor physical\nnature. In fine, the experimental school, such as tradition\npresents it to us and its ablest expounders teach it, must not be\nconfounded with _positivism_, which tries to steal its name\nand flag.\n\nThe experimental school, healthy and fruitful, gives to\nmetaphysical truths their legitimate influence, their superior\nand imperishable sight, and does not suppress them by a violent\nand arbitrary decision. Especially, it does not resolve\ndifficulties by denying all other causes and activity than what\nis purely material. The experimental school is not fatally\nmaterialism.\n\nMaterialism is the legitimate consequence of positivism. The\npositivist sect, at the beginning of its career, pretended to\ntake hold of materialism with a superb indifference and dogmatic\ninsolence, in presence of those eternal problems which, to the\nhonor of humanity, have always puzzled and tormented it. But it\nis easy to show that most of the definitions and teaching of\npositivist philosophy correspond with the materialist dogmas,\nfrom which positivism pretended to hold itself aloof.\n{232}\nHow could it be otherwise? Those supreme questions and their\nanswers are not isolated facts, distinct from our particular\nknowledge, regarding the things of this world. They penetrate\nnecessarily into all our cognitions; become incarnate and visible\nunder the form of all the particular existences which we analyze.\nWe cannot give the character of one of those existences, without\nthis definite character implying a corresponding solution of the\nprimary truths, which were supposed to be entirely forgotten. All\nthe special science of positivism is identical with materialistic\ninterpretation; and one would have wished that the human mind had\nnot tried to ascend from these special sciences to general and\nprimary science and explain it like them. Was this possible? No;\nand hence illusion is no longer possible. Positivism has\nlogically terminated in materialism.\n\nTo demonstrate this inevitable fusion, M. Caro examines one of\nthe absolute precepts of positivism, namely, the subjection of\npsychology to cerebral physiology. He proves that this subjection\nis only an indirect method of resolving both psychology and\ncerebral physiology by materialism. Stuart Mill has been rejected\nby the positivists for not having followed the founder of the\npositivist school, resumed in the principle that there is no\npsychology outside of biology. \"Psychology, we are told,\" writes\nM. Caro, \"is identical with biology; faculties, consciousness\nwhich observes them, attention which analyzes them, and, thanks\nto memory, classes them; all these are in the dependence of the\norgans on each other. This dependence is called by a very\nexpressive word: the affective and intellectual faculties become,\nin positivist language, the _cerebral faculties_. The rest\nfollows. We are assured that there is identity between those two\nrelations: the intellectual and moral manifestations are to the\nnervous substance what weight is to matter, that is to say, an\nirreducible phenomenon, which in the actual state of our\nknowledge is its own explanation. 'Just as the physician observes\nthat matter is heavy, so the physiologist proves that the nervous\nsubstance thinks, without either of them being able to explain\nwhy the one is heavy and the other thinks.'\" [Footnote 107]\n\n [Footnote 107: M. Littr\u00e9, pr\u00e9face au livre intitul\u00e9\n _Mat\u00e9rialisme et Spiritualisme_.]\n\n\"Let it be so,\" continues M. Caro; \"yet which of the materialists\nhas ever pretended to explain why the nervous substance thinks?\nThey merely attest the existence of the fact. The real question\nis to know if it is the nervous substance which thinks, and if it\ncan think. To affirm that it thinks is to close the question. I\ntake as witness M. Moleschott, whose teaching is not doubtful,\nand which has been published with applause. What does he say in a\ndiscourse recently delivered at Zurich? 'The identification of\nspirit and matter is not an explanation; it is a fact, neither\nmore nor less simple, more nor less mysterious, than any other\nfact; it is a fact like weight. No one assuredly pretends to\nexplain gravitation by means of distinctions between it and\nmatter.' Is there, I ask, an appreciable difference on this\nquestion between the language of the present chief of the\npositivists and that of the most decided positivists?\"\n\nA journal, devoted to the defence and propagation of scientific\nmaterialism, _La Pens\u00e9e Nouvelle_, proclaimed the same\ndoctrine: \"The positivist school is a sect which proceeds from\nmaterialism; it has no value or aim except through materialism.\"\n\n{233}\n\n II.\n\nMaterialism absorbs, therefore, the positivist school. It tries\nto resolve the important questions regarding the origin and end\nof man. It does not proscribe metaphysics on the pretence that it\nwishes to know the eternal unknown, and approach the\ninaccessible. It admits neither unknown nor inaccessible. It\nsubstitutes for the primary causes of metaphysics, considered as\npure chimeras, other causes the reality of which it pretends to\nprove. This is a bold but frank attitude, and preferable in every\nrespect to the constrained position of positivism.\n\nHow has materialism tried to solve the questions it proposes? It\ncannot appeal to pure reason or to the revealing faculties of the\nhuman understanding, affirming or denying God as primary cause of\nexistences, and the soul as secondary cause of the human person.\nWhere would be the authority of materialism if its process of\ndemonstration, if its methods were not separated from the process\nand methods of traditional spiritualism? The latter cannot be\nconquered on its own ground; it would always find there the\nheight of its moral inspirations, and the power of its\ndemonstrations. Materialism has felt this, and pretends to\nrepudiate both the methods and the doctrines of the old\nmetaphysics. Instead of asking the understanding for imaginary\nmeans of demonstration, it proclaims its adherence to infallible\nexperience, its belief in the senses alone, and the analysis of\nsensations. Just like positivism, it calls itself the immediate\nproduction of the experimental method, and attributes to itself\nthe certitude which belongs to the positive and experimental\nsciences. The old doubt should thus be dissipated, and man would\nenjoy the full brightness of this universe, whose secrets would\nno longer be redoubtable, and whose eternal and necessary laws\nwould be opposed to all idea of a higher origin, and government\nregulated by any exterior will.\n\nBut let us leave aside for a moment the examination of those sad\nillusions and past solutions and the part which experience has in\nthem. Let us consider at first, from the stand-point of method\nalone, those problems of origin which materialism pretends to\nresolve. How are those problems capable of being solved by the\nexperimental method? Such is the true question, and it is this\none the study of which completes the beautiful book of M. Caro.\n\"We shall not be opposed,\" says the eloquent author of the\n_Id\u00e9e de Dieu_, \"by any unprejudiced _savant_, when we\nassert that, in the actual state of science, no positivist dogma\nauthorizes conclusions like those of materialism on the problem\nof the origin and ends of beings, on that of substances and\ncauses; that to give exact knowledge on these points is contrary\nto the idea of experimental science; that this science gives us\nthe actual, the present, the fact, not the beginning of things;\nat most, the immediate _how_, the proximate conditions of\nbeings, and never their remote causes; finally, that from the\nmoment materialism becomes an express and doctrinal negation of\nmetaphysics, it becomes itself another metaphysics; it falls\nimmediately under the control of pure reason, which may be freely\nused to criticise its hypotheses, as it uses them itself to\nestablish them and bind them together.\"\n\nThis _a priori_ dogmatism imposes itself as a necessity on\nmaterialism, and destroys the experimental character which it\nloves.\n{234}\nThe learned, devoted to the worship of positive science, are\nobliged to admit this, and M. Caro cites, on this point, the\nprecious admission of an illustrious _savant_, M. Virchow,\nwhom the materialists claim as one of themselves. \"No one, after\nall,\" says M. Virchow, \"knows what was before what is. ...\nScience has nothing but the world which exists. ... Materialism\nis a tendency to explain all that exists, or has been created, by\nthe properties of matter. Materialism goes beyond experience; it\nmakes itself a system. But systems are more the result of\nspeculation than of experience. They prove in us a certain want\nof perfection which speculation alone can satisfy; for all\nknowledge which is the result of experience is incomplete and\ndefective.\"\n\nIt is not a metaphysician who speaks thus; it is a _savant_,\nwho, in Germany, ranks at the head of experimental biology, who\nleans to materialism, and admits, nevertheless, that materialism\nhas no other root than an undemonstrable _a priori_;\nconsequently M. Caro has the right with ironical good sense to\ndraw these conclusions: \"Until materialism leaves that vicious\ncircle which logic traces around its fundamental conception;\nuntil it succeeds in proving experimentally that that which is\nhas always been as it is in the actual form of the recognized\norder of phenomena; so long as it cannot strip those questions of\ntheir essentially transcendental character, and subject its\nnegative solutions to a verification of which the idea alone is\ncontradictory; until then--and we have good reason to think that\nperiod far distant--materialism will keep the common condition of\nevery demonstration that cannot be verified. It may reason, after\na fashion, on the impossibility of conceiving a beginning to the\nsystem of things, to the existence of matter and its properties,\nbut it will prove nothing experimentally, which is, according to\nits principles, the only way of proving anything; it will\nspeculate, which is very humiliating for those who despise\nspeculation; it will recommence a system of metaphysics, which is\nthe greatest disgrace for those who profess to despise\nmetaphysics. We are continually reproached with the _a\npriori_ character of our solutions concerning first causes.\nMaterialism must necessarily accept its share of the blame, no\nmatter how full it may be of illusions regarding its scientific\nbearing and value, no matter how intoxicated with the conquest of\npositive science with which it essays in vain to identify its\nfortune and right.\"\n\nWe have just seen, with M. Caro, whether materialism can call\nitself the faithful representation and direct product of the\nexperimental method. M. Janet, in one of those little volumes,\n_Le Mat\u00e9rialisme Contemporain_, destined to a happy\npopularity, and in which high reason and good science are made\nclear and simple to convince better, shows us what is the value\nof the solutions proposed, even nowadays, by materialism. The two\nworks of MM. Caro and Janet thus complete each other: the one\ndiscusses the question of methods, and judges materialism in face\nof its own work, and systematic development; the other asks it,\nafter its labors, whither the method it has used has led it, and\ninterrogates it on those questions of origin and end which it\ntreats and so boldly resolves.\n\n{235}\n\n III.\n\nMaterialism has two grand problems to solve: matter and life. No\none would hesitate to say that the first of these is within its\nscope, and the solution easy for it. What should be better able\nto teach us what matter is than a system which recognizes nothing\nbut matter? Has matter in itself the reason of its existence, the\nreason especially of the motion which impels and moves it, causes\nall its changes, and what seems now to be the only origin of all\nits properties and of all its manifestations? M. Janet, in a\nchapter particularly original, _La Mati\u00e8re et le Mouvement_,\ndemonstrates that matter cannot present the conditions of\nabsolute existence which are necessary to it if we admit nothing\nabove it. Materialism, instead of arriving at a substantial and\nfreed matter, has nothing ever before it but an intangible\nunknown. To find nothing for basis of its affirmations but the\nunknown, and pretend on this basis to build a philosophical\nbelief, seat the destinies of humanity on the unknown, is an\noutrage on reason and good sense. What a chimerical enterprise!\n\"What would signify, I ask,\" writes M. Janet, \"the pretensions of\nmaterialism in a system in which one would be obliged to confess\nthat matter is reduced to a principle absolutely unknown? Is it\nnot the same to say that matter is the principle of all things,\nin this hypothesis; and to assert that _x_, that is, any\nunknown quantity, is the principle of all things? It would be as\nif one should say, 'I do not know what is the principle of\nthings.' What a luminous materialism this is!\" But let us leave\npure matter aside; although it touches and bounds us on every\nside, it does not seem to contain the peculiar secret of our\norigins and destinies. Let us go further and interrogate\nmaterialism regarding life and living beings, among which we are\ncounted, and the study of which penetrates so deeply into our own\nlife.\n\nMaterialism pretends to explain the mysterious origin and first\nappearance of life; and imagines that it can establish by\nexperience the conditions and cause of the formation of simple\nand rudimentary organizations. The theory of spontaneous\ngeneration answers these experimental conditions, and is the\nproximate and sufficient cause of the existence of life. Having\nobtained those primary organic forms, materialism explains the\nimmense multiplicity of living species by the gradual\ntransformation of the rudimentary organic forms, produced by\nspontaneous generation; a transformation effected by natural\nconditions. Spontaneous generation is consequently a primary\nthesis of materialism.\n\n\"We see,\" says Lucretius, \"living worms come out of fetid matter\nwhen, having been moistened by the rain, it has reached a\nsufficient degree of putrefaction. The elements put in motion and\ninto new relations produce animals.\" The whole theory and all the\nerrors of spontaneous generation are contained in these phrases.\n\nThe progress of the natural sciences gradually extinguished the\nbelief in spontaneous generation. In proportion as science\nstudied this pretended generation it disappeared, and ancestral\ngeneration became evident. M. Pouchet has reawakened the\ndiscussion of the question by transporting it into the study of\nthose lives of only an instant in duration, which the immense\nmultitude of animalcula presents. Those lives, still so little\nknown and so hard to observe in their rapid evolution, offered a\nfavorable field for confusion, premature assertion, and arbitrary\nsystems. To affirm their spontaneous generation, or demonstrate\ntheir generation by germs detached from infinitely small\norganizations in their complete development, was a task equally\nobscure and apparently impenetrable to experimentation.\n{236}\nThe one theory was opposed to all the known laws of life, while\nthe other was in conformity with those laws. It seemed,\ntherefore, that unless demonstrated by all the force of evidence,\nthe spontaneous generation of animalcula should find no\nlegitimate place in science. But not only was evidence always\nwanting, but thanks to the wonderful ability displayed by M.\nPasteur; thanks to the beauty, precision, clearness, and variety\nof the experiments performed by him; thanks to the penetrating\nsagacity with which he has exposed the defects of the contrary\nexperiments of M. Pouchet and M. Jolly, all the evidence is in\nfavor of ancestral generation; and the Academy of Science, so\nprudent and ordinarily so reserved in its judgments, has not\nhesitated to pronounce openly in this sense. Let us hear the\neminent M. Cl. Bernard, judging spontaneous generation; even that\nwhich, not daring to maintain the complete generation of the\nbeing, sought refuge in the spontaneous generation of the ovulum\nor germ, which being evolved produced the entire being:\n\n\"That generation,\" says M. Cl. Bernard, \"which governs the\norganic creation of living beings has been justly regarded as the\nmost mysterious function of physiology. It has been always\nobserved that there is a filiation among living beings, and that\nthe greatest number of them proceed visibly from parents.\nNevertheless there are cases in which this filiation has not been\napparent, and then some have admitted _spontaneous\ngeneration_, that is, production without parentage. This\nquestion, already very old, has been investigated in recent times\nand subjected to new study. In France, many _savants_ have\nrejected the theory of spontaneous generation, particularly M.\nPouchet, who defended the theory of spontaneous ovulation. M.\nPouchet wished to prove that there was no spontaneous generation\nof the adult being, but of its egg or germ. This view seems to me\naltogether inadmissible even as a hypothesis. I consider, in\nfact, that the egg represents a sort of organic formula, which\nresumes the evolutive conditions of a being determined by the\nfact that it proceeds from the egg. The egg is egg only because\nit possesses a virtuality which has been given to it by one or\nseveral anterior evolutions, the remembrance of which it in some\nsort preserves. It is this original direction, which is only a\nparentage more or less remote, which I regard as being incapable\nof spontaneous manifestation. We must have necessarily a\nhereditary influence. I cannot conceive that a cell formed\nspontaneously and without ancestry can have an evolution, since\nit has had no prior state. Whatever may be thought of the\nhypothesis, the experiment on which the proofs of spontaneous\ngeneration rested were for the most part defective. M. Pasteur\nhas the merit of having cleared up the problem of spontaneous\ngeneration, by reducing the experiments to their just value and\narranging them according to science. He has proved that the air\nwas the vehicle of a multitude of germs of living beings, and he\nhas shown that it was necessary before all to reduce the argument\nto precise and well-formed observations.\n\n\"In order to express my thought on the subject of spontaneous\ngeneration, I have only to repeat here what I have already said\nin a report which I have had to make on this question; that is to\nsay, that in proportion as our means of investigation become more\nperfect, it will be found that the cases of supposed spontaneous\ngeneration must be necessarily classed with the cases of ordinary\nphysiological generation. This is what the works of M. Balbiani\nand of MM. Coste and Gerbe have recently proved in reference to\nthe infusory animalcula.\"\n\n{237}\n\nThese latter works, especially those of M. Balbiani, [Footnote\n108] completely overturn the basis of the doctrine of spontaneous\ngeneration. Those infusory animalcula which were supposed to be\nproduced by a silent self-formation are really produced by sexual\ngeneration, and those germs floating in the atmosphere are real\neggs, the laying of which M. Balbiani discovered.\n\n [Footnote 108: Balbiani \"Sur l'Existence d'une\n Reproduction sexuelle chez les Infusoires.\"]\n\nNevertheless, spontaneous generation has still some decided\npartisans. Some, like Messrs. Pouchet and Jolly, still believe\nthe theory as _savants_. The observations which they trusted\nin affirming spontaneous generation or ovulation still preserve\ntheir value for them. It is not easy to give up one's ideas and\nworks. The children of our mind are often dearer to us than the\noffspring of our blood. It requires a species of heroism for a\n_savant_ to immolate what he has conceived with labor,\nprotected and defended against all assailers. But besides these\nillusions and attachments which may be respected, interested\npassion arose and transformed into aggression and violent quarrel\nthe peaceful discussions of science. _The Origin of Life_,\n[Footnote 109] such is the title of a recent publication on\nspontaneous generation; such is the problem which those who\nnowadays maintain a cause scientifically lost pretend to resolve.\n\n [Footnote 109: L'Origine de la Vie: Histoire de la Question\n des G\u00e9n\u00e9rations spontan\u00e9es. Par le docteur George Pennetier,\n avec une pr\u00e9face par le docteur Pouchet.]\n\nThe origin of life! Observe the general meaning of the terms;\nthere is question of life in itself, of the essence of all living\nbeings. Human life is a particular case of this general problem;\nthe solution of both is the same. Behind the animalcula and their\nspontaneous apparition is man. The higher origin, the high\naspirations, the predestined end of which man thought he had the\nright to feel proud--all these vanish like vain dreams and puffs\nof pride in presence of the origin of primary life through the\nenergy of matter alone. It alone is the true creator, the only\ncause, and it alone contains our end; beyond it there is nothing;\nscience shows it, at least that science which places spontaneous\ngeneration at the top of its conceptions. The importance of the\nconsequences explains the reason why the partisans of materialism\nhave been so ardent in defence of their principles. If a simple\nproblem of chemistry had no more proofs in its favor than the\ntheory of spontaneous generation, no _savant_ worthy of the\nname would have maintained it or founded on so fragile a basis a\nmultitude of scientific deductions. But there was question of the\norder and constitution of the world, of the reason, of the being\nof every creature, and hence the proofs seemed good and\nsufficient to a materialism which calls itself scientific and\nexperimental. An aggressive polemic represented even as enemies\nof progress, as retrograde spirits, all those who rejected errors\nto which too easy a popularity had been given.\n\n{238}\n\n IV.\n\nSpontaneous generation gave materialism a point of departure at\nonce rash and weak; bold if one looked behind, almost miserable\nif one looked ahead! What efforts to draw out of some rudimentary\nanimalcula the regular development of the whole animal kingdom,\nman included--that being who thinks and wills, who is conscious\nof its acts and liberty, who possesses the notion of good and\nevil, who aspires after the true and the beautiful, who feels\nhimself as cause and admits other causes in nature! How can the\nabyss which separates those two extremities of living creation be\nbridged? What omnipotence will be able to produce from these\ninfusoria the prodigious number, the infinite variety of those\nanimated beings, all those living species which, no matter how\nprofoundly or how far the world may be investigated, are almost\nlike each other, as it were immutable in their precipitate\nsuccession, stationary even in motion!\n\nThe same science which affirmed spontaneous generation has not\nbalked before this enterprise, and it has pretended to prove the\nhidden mechanism which, from the egg spontaneously laid, produces\nthe fearful immensity of animate forms! There have been found\nnaturalists, eminent _savants_ in other respects and\npossessing great authority, like Lamarck and Darwin, who have\nimagined that they discovered the laws of the transformation of\nspecies.\n\nM. Paul Janet, in the book which we cited above, has made a sharp\nand searching criticism of the theories of Lamarck and Darwin. He\nasks, in the first place, in what the hypothesis of a plan and of\na design of nature, otherwise called the doctrine of final\ncauses, would be contrary to the spirit of science. We must not\nundertake phenomenal analysis with the premeditated design of\nfinding the phenomena conformable to an object decreed in\nadvance; this preconceived object should never take the place of\nreason and be the explanation of the facts observed; such a\nmanner of proceeding is hardly scientific, and leads fatally to\narbitrary and erroneous conceptions. But does it follow that the\nfacts observed and analyzed in themselves should not, by their\ncollection and connection, express to the human intelligence a\nsuperior design, a progressive and ascending harmony, which are\nits final reason and vivifying spirit? To refuse in advance every\nfinal cause is an error similar to that of imagining it\naltogether and before the observation of the phenomena. Flourens\nhas well said: \"We must proceed not from the final causes to the\nfacts, but from the facts to the final causes.\" These are the\nfruitful principles, and this is true natural philosophy.\n\n\"The naturalists,\" says M. Janet, \"imagine that they have\ndestroyed final causes in nature when they have proved that\ncertain effects result necessarily from certain given causes. The\ndiscovery of efficient causes appears to them a decisive argument\nagainst the existence of final causes. We must not say, according\nto them, \"that the bird has wings _for the purpose_ of\nflying, but that it flies because it has wings.\" But in what,\npray, are these two propositions contradictory? Supposing that\nthe bird has wings to fly, must not its flight be the result of\nthe structure of its wings? And from the fact that the flight is\na result, we have not the right to conclude that it is not an\nend. In order, then, that your materialists should recognize an\naim and a choice, must there be in nature effects without a\ncause, or effects disproportioned to their causes? Final causes\nare not miracles; to obtain a certain end the author of things\nmust choose secondary causes precisely adapted to the intended\neffect.\n{239}\nConsequently, what is there astonishing in the fact that in the\nstudy of those causes you should be able to deduce mechanically\nfrom them their effects? The contrary would be impossible and\nabsurd. Thus, explain to us as much as you please that, a wing\nbeing given, the bird must fly; that does not at all prove that\nthe wings were not given to it for the purpose of flying. In good\nfaith we ask, If the author of nature willed that birds should\nfly, what could he do better than give them wings for that\nobject?\n\nThe demonstration of the reality of final causes, and of a\ndecreed and premeditated plan in nature, furnishes a primary and\npowerful refutation of the systems which pretend to explain the\nsuccessive formation of organized beings by the sole action of\nnatural forces, acting fatally, petrifying, modifying,\ntransforming living matter in an unconscious and blind manner.\nLamarck and Darwin, as we have said, are the two naturalists who\nhave substituted most successfully a fatal, necessary, and in\nsome sort mechanical plan, instead of a premeditated plan,\nrealized by an intelligent and spontaneous cause. Lamarck\nappealed especially to the action of means, habit, and want. The\ncombined action of those agents sufficed to him to conclude from\nthe rudimentary cell to man himself.\n\nThe action of means, exterior conditions, can modify the form and\nthe functions of living beings; this is a fact of which the\ndomestication of animals offers the most striking examples. But\ndoes it follow that because we can modify certain animal and\nvegetable species, we can therefore create their species? Can we\nimagine the possibility of modifications so active and powerful\nthat they arrive at the most complex creations, at the\nconstruction of the great organs of animal life, and of those\norgans of the senses, so diverse and so marvellously adapted to\ntheir functions? \"For instance,\" says M. Janet, \"certain animals\nbreathe through their lungs, and others by the bronchial tubes,\nand these two kinds of organs are perfectly adapted to the two\nmeans of air and water. How can we conceive that these two means\nshould be able to produce so complicated and so suitable\norganizations? Is there a single fact among all those proved by\nscience which could justify so great an extension of the action\nof means? If it is said that by _means_ we must not\nunderstand merely the element in which the animal lives, but\nevery kind of exterior circumstance, then, I ask, let the\nmaterialists determine what is precisely the circumstance which\nhas caused such an organ to take the form of the lung, and such\nanother to take the form of the bronchia; what is the precise\ncause which has created the heart--that hydraulic machine so\npowerful and so easy, and whose movements are so industriously\ncombined to receive the blood which comes from all the organs to\nthe heart and send it back through the veins; what is the cause,\nfinally, which binds all these organs together and makes the\nliving being, according to the expression of Cuvier, \"a closed\nsystem, all of whose parts concur to a common action by a\nreciprocal reaction?\" What will it be if we pass to the organs of\nsense; to the most marvellous of them, the eye of man or that of\nthe eagle? Is there one of those _savants_ who have no\nsystem who would dare to maintain that he sees in any way how\nlight could produce by its action the organ which is appropriated\nto it? Or, if it is not light, what is the exterior agent\nsufficiently powerful, sufficiently ingenious, sufficiently\nskilled in geometry, to construct that marvellous apparatus which\nhas made Newton say: \"Can he that made the eye be ignorant of the\nlaws of optics?\"\n{240}\nRemarkable expression, which, coming from so great a master,\nshould make the forgers of systems of cosmogony reflect an\ninstant, no matter how learnedly they may dilate on the origin of\nplanets, and who pass with so much complacency over the origin of\nconscience and life!\n\nIf the action of means is incapable by itself of explaining the\nformation of organs and the production of species--what Lamarck\ncalls the power of life, namely, habit and want--how can they\ngive us the sufficient reason for those great facts? According to\nLamarck, necessity produces organs, habit develops and fortifies\nthem. But what is this necessity and this habit which are\nappealed to so complacently, and who proves their strange power?\nLet us take the necessity of breathing, of which M. Janet wrote\nas we have quoted. Whence comes this necessity? From the\nnecessity of giving to the blood the oxygen which is necessary\nfor it; and this latter necessity is derived from the necessity\nof keeping up the organic combustion, and furnishing the nervous\nsystem with an appropriate stimulant. Who does not see that there\nis here a connection of functions and organs which requires a\nsimultaneous creation, which displays a preconceived plan, and\nnot a successive growth of organs according to wants which find\nin each other the principle of their being, and which cannot be\nperceived and satisfied separately? What unheard-of aberration,\nwhat decadence of the scientific spirit, to transform necessity\ninto a sort of effective and creative power; to make of a\nsentiment, ordinarily vague and obscure, a new and active entity,\nwhich not only animates the created being, but actually creates\nit!\n\nLamarck, it is true, admits that observation cannot demonstrate\nthe producing power which he attributes to want; but if a direct\nproof is wanting, he considers an indirect proof sufficient by\nappealing to custom. What does he mean? Habit can develop and\nfortify existing organs by an appropriate and sustained exercise;\nbut how does that prove that want can create them? How can habit\ndevelop an organ which does not exist? How can the development of\nan organ be compared to the creation of this organ, or make us\nrealize the mode of creation of the organ? We can conceive want\nas the reason not of the creation but of the development of an\norgan, and habit as excited and sustained by this need; but the\nneed of an organ which is absolutely wanting cannot be born of\nitself, cannot produce the organ, cannot excite habit. How can an\nanimal deprived of every organ of seeing or hearing experience\nthe want of sight or hearing, or acquire the habit of either?\nWhat chimerical hypotheses!\n\nLet us hold to the judgment of Cuvier on all these hypotheses,\nwhose authority is very great:\n\n \"Some naturalists, more material in their ideas, and relying on\n the philosophical observations of which we have just spoken,\n have remained humble followers of Maillet, (Talliamed,)\n [Footnote 110] seeing that the greater or less use of a member\n increases or diminishes its force and volume, have imagined\n that habits and exterior influences, continued for a long time,\n could change by degrees the forms of animals so as to make them\n attain successively all those shapes which the different\n species of animals now have.\n{241}\n No more superficial and foolish idea could be imagined.\n Organized bodies are considered as a mere mass of paste or\n clay, which could be moulded by the fingers. Consequently, the\n moment these authors wish to enter into detail, they fall into\n absurdities. Whoever dares to advance seriously that a fish by\n keeping on dry land could change its scales into feathers and\n become a bird, or that a quadruped by passing through narrow\n places would become elongated like a thread and transformed\n into a serpent, only proves his profound ignorance of anatomy.\"\n\n [Footnote 110: Benoit de Maillet was the predecessor of Lamarck.]\n\nThe forms of scientific error change rapidly; only the principle\nalways remains. But this principle requires to be clothed from\ntime to time in new garments, which rejuvenate and disguise it.\nThe system of Lamarck, for a moment popular on account of the\nphilosophic ideas to which it gave support, could not maintain\nitself in lasting honor in science. It was as it were buried in\ndeep oblivion, when Darwin undertook to awaken it from its ashes\nby substituting for the antiquated conceptions new ones, destined\nto give a similar satisfaction to the passions which had\napplauded the enterprise of Lamarck.\n\nThe work of Darwin--we must do him the justice to say it--is an\nimportant work, and displays rare science. The author, gifted\nwith great penetration, employs to the greatest advantage what he\nknows to deduce from it what he does not know; and if he goes\nbeyond experience, it is always in appealing to experience; so\nthat he seems to remain faithful to observation even when he\nventures far beyond its limits. Nevertheless so much science and\nsagacity can hardly blind us to the radical weakness of the\nsystem; and it would not have met with so favorable a reception\nif all the prejudices of the materialists whom it satisfied had\nnot become its ardent champions. A first fact strikes one who\nstudies impartially the theory of Darwin, namely, the\nincalculable disproportion between the means of demonstration and\nthe immense problem to be resolved. There is question, let it be\nremembered, of the origin of living species. Darwin tries to\nexplain this origin by the action of a natural selection,\nincessantly at work, which draws the collection of organisms out\nof one or several primitive, simple, and rudimentary types formed\nby the simple action of forces proper to matter. This natural\nselection is the image of the method according to which new races\nof domestic animals have been created, as the modern doctors\nmaintain. In order that this, natural selection should produce\nthe powerful effects which Darwin gives to it, he imagines two\nagents always active--changes in the conditions of existence, and\nespecially _vital concurrence_. The changes in the\nconditions of existence, the accidental characters acquired by a\nliving individual and transmitted by inheritance to its\ndescendants, create certain varieties of type. Vital concurrence,\nthe battle of life, the struggle of animated beings to subsist,\nallow only some of those varieties to last on the scene of the\nworld; the others are vanquished and disappear. These\ntransformations, continued and accumulated from age to age,\nincreased by the indefatigable labor of an immense number of\nages, have produced all the animal species actually existing;\nwhich are imperceptibly their predecessors in a continuous line\nof transformation, under the permanent influence of the same\nnatural forces.\n\n{242}\n\nThe notion of species as well as that of variety and race\ndisappear in this order of ideas, or at least lose the determined\nsense which the naturalists had attributed to them. Variety and\nrace become species in the way of transformation, in course of\ndevelopment. The living form passes insensibly and by eternal\nmotion from the one to the other, from the species to the\nvariety, from the variety to the race, and from the latter to a\nnew species which appears only to disappear in its turn. It is\nonly an affair of time. The living kingdom is in perpetual\ntransformation. No one can tell what it will become naturally.\n\nSuch is the essence of the Darwinian theory. It begins by the\nhypothesis of a natural selection which no direct fact proves or\nconfirms. But can the method of selection as Darwin explains it\nbe the foundation of such a hypothesis? But in this artificial\nelection, due to the labor of man, man is the agent who chooses,\nwho works; he becomes the final and active cause of the\ntransformation undergone by the species; he takes care that the\ncharacter of the races which he has obtained should be maintained\nby an ever-vigilant election. Can anything of this kind be\ninvoked in the natural selection of Darwin? Who replaces the\nchoice of man? If the natural selection is made according to a\nplan decreed and premeditated by the omnipotence which has\ncreated nature, this selection changes its character; it is no\nlonger anything but one of the forms of creation; it is an\ninterpretation of the mode of acting of the creating cause, it is\nno longer the negation of this cause. Darwinism, which consists\nin conceiving the order of things without any superior\nintervention, under the simple action of accidents passing\nfortuitously to permanence; Darwinism, hostile to all finality,\ndisappears if the idea of plan is perceptible in the natural\nselection. Can vital concurrence replace the intelligent action,\nand assure to the natural selection that fecundity and power\nwhich are not in it, and which must come to it from without? But\ncan \"vital concurrence, the battle of life,\" be the means of\ncreation; can they engender directly organic modifications,\nvarieties, animal species? Evidently not the battle of life can\nmake subjects; it is an agent of elimination for weak and\ndefective species; it cannot produce by itself a new species.\nNatural selection remains always delivered up to itself, to its\nblind resources, which nothing directs or regulates, which\nacquire fecundity only by chance. To imagine that the harmonic\nand infinite collection of living species can be legitimately\nreferred to a given agent, even by granting to it thousands of\nyears to manifest its action, seems to me arbitrary and sterile\nrashness, which has nothing in common with a noble rashness of\nscience, with the intuitions of a genius which sometimes\nforestalls experience and the proofs which it adduces.\n\nM. Janet has given a general refutation of the theories of\nDarwin, and sufficiently strong to show their folly. General\nfacts have their own light, but it does not shine the less far or\nthe less brilliantly for being general. Nevertheless, in a\nquestion obscured by so many prejudices, and by the assertions of\na science which calls itself entirely experimental, that is to\nsay, entirely particular, particular facts acquire a singular\neloquence and power of demonstration which the most audacious\nsystematizers cannot refuse to acknowledge.\n\n{243}\n\nThose facts embrace the infinite individualities of the living\nkingdom continued across the known ages. The source of\ninformation is inexhaustible. What does it teach us? Do\nparticular facts confirm the ideas of Darwin regarding the\ngradual mutability of species; do they even furnish the sketch of\na demonstration limited to certain determined points, to certain\nanimal or vegetable species; do they finally show us some of\nthose transformations which are the foundation of the system? Man\nhas been observing and studying nature for centuries: tradition,\nthe ruins preserved from the past, permit us to remount far up\nthe stream of time; have they apprehended in nature any traces of\nthose great changes which incessantly and fatally transform the\nvegetable and animal species? Or, on the contrary, does not\neverything go against those supposed transformations, and prove\nthe fixity in time and space of those real species; a fixity\nwhich is not contradictory, which rather adapts itself to a\ncertain normal physiological variability, which always allows to\nsubsist and be perceptible through it the type of the species,\nthe essential and primary form? We easily conceive the importance\nthat a sincere response to these questions may acquire. They\nstrike at the experimental foundation of Darwin's theory; if this\nexperimental basis is wanting, what becomes of those theories?\nAre they not mere personal and arbitrary conceptions; brilliant\nplays of an imagination strong and creative, it is true, but\nwhich cannot be substituted for Nature herself and her direct\nteachings?\n\nA learned professor of the faculty of science of Lyons, M. Ernest\nFaivre, has just undertaken this particular and experimental\nstudy of the origin of species, of their variability and\nessentiality; and we signalize his work to our readers--_La\nVariabilit\u00e9 des Esp\u00e8ces et les Limites_. It is impossible to\nwrite, on so complex and obscure a question, a book more rich in\nfacts, more clear in its developments, or more authoritative in\nits conclusions. It seems to us the condemnation without appeal\nof the system of Darwin.\n\nThe vegetable kingdom is considered less rebellious than the\nothers to the theories of Darwin; variety has more extended\nlimits in it, less fixed than in the animal; generation,\nincrease, the exterior conditions, present the occasion of many\nchanges often profound in appearance. M. Faivre shows that the\ntrue species exists through all these changes, and that it is\nreproduced of itself from modified types, when circumstances or\nthe artificial selection of man no longer supports the latter.\nNowhere has man been able to create a real and durable species;\nand the species from the most remote times to our days are\nmaintained with a fixity which has become one of the essential\ncharacters of species. The ancient land of Egypt is full of\nmoving revelations on this subject: the animals, the plants, the\ngrains buried in the caves, are the same as the plants and\nanimals which cover the borders of the Nile at the present time.\nAll the naturalists have proved this identity of a considerable\nquantity of animal and vegetable species. Hence, Lamarck and\nDarwin, to lessen the value of an experience of more than three\nthousand years' duration, have pretended that the conditions of\nlife and the conditions of the exterior medium had not changed in\nEgypt from the historical times, and that the permanency of the\nspecies became consequently an ordinary and logical fact. But\nhistory, geography, the study of the soil, prove that the\nsituation of Egypt has been profoundly modified.\n{244}\nThe level of the Nile, the limits of the desert, the extent of\nthe cultivated lands, the culture of the soil, the number of\npopulous cities, the proximity or distance of the sea, the great\npublic works, everything which transforms a country under the\naction of men, all have changed in Egypt as much if not more than\nin other countries, and nothing is found changed in the\nproductions of this soil, in the living beings which it supports\nand nourishes. But we may go further than the historical period.\nThe permanence of species is proved to-day from the glacial\nperiod; the bogs of Ireland, the submarine forests of England and\nof the United States, conceal in their depths relics of mammifera\nor of vegetable species exactly comparable to the vegetable and\nanimal species actually living in those same countries. We could\nnot enumerate all the proofs which establish the great fact of\nthe permanency of species; the number of these proofs is immense,\nand no fact seriously contradicts them, and yet it is in the name\nof experience that the partisans of natural selection pretend to\nspeak! The accidental, temporary, and superficial varieties which\nthey produce become for them a sufficient warrant of absolute and\npermanent varieties which they cannot produce, but of which they\nimpudently suppose the formal existence; thus destroying species\nby a mere hypothesis.\n\nNatural selection has artificial selection for its ideal\ngodfather, but what has the latter produced? Not only no species,\nbut not even a permanent race definitively fixed and acquired.\nAll the races made by the hand of man die if they are left to\nthemselves, unsupported by an artificial selection constantly at\nwork. It is a fact which M. Faivre supports with superabundant\ndemonstration, taken from both the vegetable and animal kingdoms.\nThe collection of those facts is truly irresistible. What! the\ncontinued transformation of species is given to us as a law, and\nyet we cannot find a solitary transformed species! The\ntransformation of races, which must not be confounded with that\nof species, is itself conditional and relative, is soon effaced\nif nothing disturbs the return of the race to the pure type of\nthe species, and yet we are told of the power of natural\nselection and of the battle of life which consecrates this power!\nThis selection, this vital concurrence, this action of means,\nhave been all employed to modify the proximate species, as the\nhorse and the ass; domestication offered here all its resources;\nthe hand of man could choose, ally, and cross the types at will.\n\n\"Assuredly,\" says M. Flourens, \"if ever a complete reunion of all\nthe conditions most favorable to the transformation of one\nspecies into another could be imagined, this reunion is found in\nthe species of the ass and horse. And, nevertheless, has there\nbeen a transformation? ... Are not those species as distinct\nto-day as they have always been? Among all the almost innumerable\nraces which have been produced by them, is there one which passed\nfrom the species of the horse to that of the ass, or,\nreciprocally, from the species of the ass to that of the horse?\"\nWhy, say we with M. Faivre, pay no attention to such simple\nfacts, and take so much trouble to seek outside of evidence\nexplanations which do not agree with the reality?\n\nThe theories of Darwin have become the chief support of those who\nattribute to man a monkey origin. \"I prefer to be a perfect\nmonkey to a degenerate Adam,\" says one of the partisans of these\ntheories.\n{245}\nBut why can they not perfect an ass so as to make a horse of it?\nThere is not between these two latter species the profound\nanatomical difference which exists between the monkey and man--a\ndifference so well established by Gratiolet, a great mind and a\ntrue _savant_. On what, then, can be founded the theory of\nour descent from the monkey species, since the slightest change\nresists all fusion, all transition from one neighboring species\nto another?\n\nThe book of the _Variabilit\u00e9 des Esp\u00e8ces_ is the answer of\nfacts to the spirit of system. Calm and severe, rigorous and\ncold, this book admits only the testimony of nature. It will\ninstruct and convince those who doubt on those questions. The\nauthor terminates by those conclusions which we willingly\nreproduce because they allow us to divine something else besides\nthe indifferent study of facts; they are perhaps the only lines\nof the work where the sentiment of the moral dignity of man is\napparent. \"This hypothesis (namely, of the mutability of species)\nis not authorized,\" says M. Faivre, \"either by its principle,\nwhich is a mere conjecture; or by its deductions, which the\nreality does not confirm; or by its direct demonstrations, which\nare hardly probabilities; or by its too extreme consequences,\nwhich science as well as human dignity forbid us to accept--the\ntheory of spontaneous generation, the intimate and degrading\nrelationship between man and the brute.\"\n\nNotwithstanding the ability--we may almost say the genius--which\nillustrious _savants_ have employed in defending the\ndoctrine, reason and experience have not weakened the reserved\nand just judgment which Cuvier has passed upon it, and which will\nserve as the conclusion to this essay: \"Among the different\nsystems on the origin of organized beings, there is none less\nprobable than that which causes the different kinds of them to\nspring up, successively, by developments or gradual\nmetamorphosis.\"\n\nOne word more before quitting the subject. All these great forms\nof scientific error spring up in our old Europe, where they find\nat the same time numerous and passionate adherents, and firm and\neloquent opponents. The attack and the struggle are kept up\nincessantly in the press, in our books, in our learned bodies, in\nour teaching faculties. If we examine the general character of\nthese conflicts, we find in them truth almost intimidated,\ncertainly less bold and less respected than error. Truth is\nself-conscious, and that is sufficient to prevent it from\nbecoming weak or yielding to fatigue and discouragement; but it\nhas not popular favor; it is tolerated, but hardly ever greatly\nencouraged. If we quit this tormented Europe, which is drawn only\ntoward new errors, and cast our eyes toward those great United\nStates of America, that fertile land appears to us as favorable\nto truth as to liberty. Let us listen an instant to that\nillustrious _savant_ who has no superior in the domain of\nnatural science, M. Agassiz; let us follow his teaching in the\nUniversity of Cambridge. What elevation and what sincerity! How\nall those systems which seduce so many minds in these cisatlantic\nregions are brought to their true proportions--judged in their\nprofound disregard of the laws of nature! Let us take, for\ninstance, the influence of exterior conditions and of physical\nagents on animals--the basis of the system of Lamarck, and one of\nthe principal conditions of the mutability of species in\nDarwinism. M. Agassiz, on this point, uses again the firm\nlanguage which from the days of Cuvier natural science has not\nspoken in France:\n\n{246}\n\n \"In so far as the diversity of animals and plants which live in\n the same physical circumstances proves the independence as to\n the origin of organized beings, from the medium in which they\n reside, so far does this independence become evident anew when\n we consider that identical types are found everywhere on the\n earth in the most varied conditions. Let all those different\n influences be united--all the conditions of existence, under\n the common apellation of cosmic influences, of physical causes,\n or of climates--and we shall always find in this regard extreme\n differences on the surface of the globe, and nevertheless we\n shall see living normally together under their action the most\n similar or even identical types. ... Does not all this prove\n that organized beings manifest the most surprising independence\n of the physical forces in the midst of which they live, an\n independence so complete that it is impossible to attribute it\n to any other cause than to a supreme power governing, at the\n same time, physical forces and the existence of animals and\n plants, maintaining between both a harmonical relation by a\n reciprocal adaptation in which we can find neither cause nor\n effect? ... It would be necessary to write a volume on the\n independence of organized beings of physical agents. Almost\n everything which is generally attributed to the influence of\n the latter must be considered as a simple correlation between\n them and the animal kingdom resulting from the general plan of\n creation.\" [Footnote 111]\n\n [Footnote 111: _Revue des Cours scientifique_,\n Mai 2, 1868.]\n\n\n ----------\n\n Canadian Customs.\n\n\nThe neighboring British provinces of the north--the new Dominion\nof Canada--from various reasons, claim at this time the public\nattention. From intrinsic merits they are worthy of notice. With\nmuch of interest in the natural prospects and the interior life\nof this country and its denizens, it is almost a _terra\nincognita_ to the general traveller, and few penetrate to\nthose remote portions where the ancient customs of the original\nsettlers are faithfully retained and kept up in their primitive\nsimplicity. Although closely contiguous to the American line,\nbordered by its lakes and its forests of dense timber, rich in\nvaluable mines and costly furs indigenous to northern latitudes,\nit is chiefly for these possessions that the province is sought\nby the utilitarian trader, rather than visited by the\npleasure-seeking tourist. And yet the general beauty of scenery\nand the peculiar characteristics of the people are worthy of\nclose observation, and one might vainly seek in a wider range for\nmaterial so grand, or characteristics better deserving of\nappreciation. The noble St. Lawrence is bordered by shores of\nsmiling fertility in the summer months. The country rises in\ngradual ascent from the present boundaries of the stream, and\ngeological inquiry demonstrates that at an earlier period the bed\nof the river extended to much wider limits than at present.\n{247}\nStill it is a grand and noble stream, as it goes sweeping onward\nmajestically to the ocean, gemmed with a thousand isles, and\nhaving hundreds of peaceful villages that nestle on either shore.\nA mere passing voyage on this route of travel presents a rich and\nvaried panorama of natural beauty. Still more interesting to the\nmind of serious thought than this mere material attraction, is\nthe suggested idea presented in every village, crowned hill, or\nhamlet, nestling in some nook along the shore, of the happy unity\nand devotion of a people who make, within their humble homes and\nin the practice of piety, the sacred faith of their worship the\n_main_ object of their existence. Strangers to their zeal\nmany deride this devotion and call it _fanaticism_; but no\nsystem can offer, in practical moral results, a higher order of\nvirtuous life than that presented by the Catholic\n_Habitants_ [Footnote 112] of Lower Canada.\n\n [Footnote 112: The _Habitant_ is a generic\n name applied to the farming population of Canada East.]\n\nRetaining, with their French origin, the happy temperament of the\nLatin race--courteous, hospitable, and enthusiastic--foreign\nrefinements have not destroyed original purity of character; and\nin their simple lives, wisely directed by zealous, self-denying\ncur\u00e9s, they illustrate in piety and contentment the happy results\nof this influence. To notice, then, the habitudes of this class,\nto enter their homes and penetrate the _arcana_ of their\ninner life, is a profitable study to all who are willing to\nreceive the high moral lessons that grandeur does not constitute\ncomfort, and that contentment may prevail where wealth does not\nabound, and that piety in simple faith presents a consolation\nthat mere material possessions fail to bestow. While the\npatriotic Canadian claims as his motto,\n\n\"_Notre culte, notre langue, notre lois,_\" he properly\nplaces his religion first and above all other mundane\nconsiderations. This religion is the Catholic faith; and while\nthe Canadian submits to political innovations, and recognizes the\nrights of the conquering arm of the British, he claims, in\nunbending adherence to his church, the observance of every\nancient rite. The Code Napoleon may be modified by Saxon\nlegislation; but the great common law of traditions in religious\nforms must ever remain undisturbed. Hence arises a peculiar charm\nin the simplicity, fervor, and unity of devotion among the\nCatholic Canadians. Voyaging from Montreal to La Rivi\u00e8re du Loup,\nat every intervening two or three leagues are defined the\nboundaries of a Catholic parish, denoted by the dome or spire of\nthe village church. The proportions of these edifices present a\nsolid character and generally harmonize in style; and, although\nlacking the finish of architectural design, they are constructed\nof stone, with ample accommodations for from one to two thousand\nworshippers. In this one edifice gathers, for miles around, the\npopulace of the entire district; for here no discordant sects\nprevail to divide and weaken congregations. This one church,\nthen, is the grand centre around which the people cluster, and\nwhich usually occupies the most commanding point of observation.\nIf an ancient edifice, the building occupies the centre of the\nplateau of cottages, at once in former times the house of worship\nand fortress of defence. Should the approach of hostile Indians\nbe signalled, the populace retired within the sacred precincts\nuntil after the danger passed, which was generally escaped by the\nappeal for peace, on terms of mutual accommodation, by the\nvenerable priest.\n{248}\nThe influence of moral force often served to lead the minds of\nthe aggressive savage to better and higher purposes.\n\nThus in this barren and bleak land whole tribes have been\nreclaimed from heathenism, though many priests, especially those\nof the Jesuit order, fell victims to their holy zeal, and offered\ntheir lives in sacrifice to their sacred efforts. Others lingered\nfor years, prisoners in the hands of their captors, but still\nteaching in bondage, and finally, gaining influence from their\nvirtues and learning, made proselytes of their persecutors. Thus\nwhole tribes were brought within the influence of Christianity,\nand Canada was reclaimed from the savage customs of the natives,\nwho have been elevated and preserved by the happy influence of\nthe Church. These tribes have not disappeared, as elsewhere,\nbefore the rude invading march of the Christian, so-called, but\ncontinue in their united character and distinctive habits to live\nprosperously with their white brethren, and to venerate the\nreligion they have embraced. Their principal villages dot the\nshores of the St. John and St. Lawrence, and even approach so\nnear Quebec as Loretto. Their church edifices are generally of a\nsimple character; but of late years, throughout Canada, many have\nbeen rebuilt, enlarged, or superseded by magnificent structures\nof more modern style than the ancient village church, in which,\nin times of a more primitive civilization, their forefathers\nworshipped. But the worship, in its outward ceremonies, remains\nunchanged. The same faith that won amid Siberian snows the land\nfrom savage rites, is alone fostered tenaciously in all its\nancient forms. The devoted zeal of the French mission priest,\ndriven from France by the bloody Revolution, carried the seeds of\nthe true faith to the bleak shores of the Canadas; and their\ninfluence is well maintained by the cur\u00e9s of the present day, who\ncontinue not only to console spiritually, but in all the affairs\nof life give that wise direction which their superior\nintelligence enables them to exercise. The efforts of modern\nmissionaries, who exhaust themselves in temporary efforts in\nremote regions, might take a wise lesson from this concentration\nof labor and dedication of life to the service of religion within\nfixed limits. It is granted, (for the fact cannot be\ncontroverted) that this people and country have been\nChristianized by the labors of the Catholic missionaries, and\nthat the religion they inculcated is universally established and\npractised by the French population of the rural districts. It\nmust, also, in fairness be admitted that the good effects of the\nsystem is demonstrated by the superior _morale_ of the\npeople under this control, who compare favorably with other\nsections where mixed sects predominate. Canada East, from the\nocean to Quebec, is settled almost universally by Catholics,\nprincipally agriculturists, though along the shores the fisheries\nand pilotage occupy their attention as a means of livelihood.\nAmong this people crime is almost unknown, so efficient have been\nthe influences of their faith upon their moral habitudes.\nNotwithstanding this favorable condition of morality, emissaries\nfrom Canada West are diligently sent yearly with their stock of\ntracts for distribution and well-bound Bibles for sale. The\npreaching from one text, \"Be not a busy-body in other people's\nmatters,\" would be a judicious commentary on this course,\nespecially as the influence of their own system fails to produce\nthe benign influences of Catholicity, in freedom from the\nordinary evils from which these happy, peaceful French parishes\nare exempted.\n\n{249}\n\nDevotion to their religion defends them from the influences of\nvice. Murder is a crime that rarely occurs among the native\npopulation, and other minor offences are equally unfrequent. To a\npeople thus living harmoniously under an established religious\ninfluence, faithful in observance of their duties in patriarchal\nsimplicity, and devoted to their religion, such invasion of the\nProtestant colporteur is a gratuitous impertinence. If the\nCatholic faith protects its votaries practically from sin, the\nsubstitution of another system, from the section of Canada West,\n(which by no means contrasts favorably with Catholic Canada East\nin comparative statistics of crime,) is no recommendation for the\npropagation of a faith that does not produce equal exemption from\nevil where their own influence prevails. Notwithstanding this\ncommon-sense proposition, zealots from the Bible societies yearly\narrive among these devoted Christians, each one successively\nquarrelling about the proper construction of a book they\nuniversally recommend. The logical Canadian might well ask: \"Why\ndon't you agree among yourselves before you come to teach us? We\nare all happy in one opinion here!\" Notwithstanding such rebuffs,\nthe colporteurs proceed from house to house, leaving their\nincendiary documents, which inform the people that the creed that\ndefends them from the influence of sin is a snare and delusion,\nand that to be saved they must forego its exercise, and\nadvantageously adopt that of some one of the fifty Protestant\nsects. Any of these may be supposed to possess a sufficient\ndiversity of doctrine to satisfy the most exacting inquirers in\ntheir search after religious novelties. If these so-called\nreligious propagandists confined themselves exclusively to these\nstatements, in conscientious diversity of belief, their action\nmight be regarded as an ardent desire to do good to the souls of\ntheir fellow-men. But the basest means are used to proselytize,\nby deliberate forgeries of the truth. The following incident is\nrecorded from personal knowledge of its occurrence, and can be\nverified by witnesses to the transaction: A colporteur of this\nbeneficent class, from Canada West, entered the cottage of a poor\n_Habitant_ family in the third range of the village of\nSaint-Michel, some fifteen miles from Quebec. One of the family\nwas dying, in a room apart, and the priest of the parish was\nadministering the last rites of the Church. The other members of\nthe family were in the general room, during the confession\npreparatory to the anointing, and, although in grief, their\ncircumstances did not protect them from the intrusion of the\ninsidious stranger. The pedlar in piety vaunted his tracts, but\nas they were unable to read, these were unappreciated, and he\nfinally displayed his costly Bible, which, he informed them,\nunless they possessed, studied, and read, they never could be\nsaved. A stranger present--companion of the cur\u00e9--asked the\nquestion: \"Is it a Catholic edition?\" \"Oh! yes, certainly, a\nCatholic Bible,\" pointing to the binding with the embellishment\nof a large cross, the imprimatur of a bishop in France, and the\nrecommendatory note from some Pope recommending its perusal to\nthe study of the faithful. One had only to look within at the\ntext to discover the perversion from the truth, and expose the\nfact that all these emblems were but a _false pretence_, to\nmake the book sell among those who would be more attracted by its\nexternal resemblance to the authorized version of Holy\nScriptures.\n{250}\nThe cur\u00e9 at this moment entered, and, in taxing the man with his\nduplicity, he answered with effrontery, \"It is a Catholic Bible,\nbut not the Romish edition;\" adding, unless all read it they must\ncertainly perish. \"Then,\" answered the priest, \"all here must be\nlost, for not one can read; and unless you remain, in your\nChristian benevolence, and instruct them, they cannot avail\nthemselves of your written instructions.\" Fortunately, as a\nprotection against the insidious wiles of such base pretenders to\nexclusive possession of religious truth, the laws of Lower Canada\nprotect the people against dangerous forms of proselytism,\ncalculated to create breaches of the peace; and the invasion of a\nharmonious parish by these disturbers of the contented people can\nbe promptly punished as a penal offence. They may sell or give\naway their books, but here their influence for evil ends; and the\ntrouble these colporteurs give themselves, if expended in a more\nlegitimate manner, might prove quite as effective for their\npersonal good in earning an honest livelihood by more worthy\nmethods. To uproot these tares of evil is the one trouble given\nto the worthy cur\u00e9s, who diligently watch and guard their flocks\nfrom the invasions of wolves, as well as instruct and guide them\ntruthfully in the way of life. The result of their self-denying\nlabors is manifest; and Catholic Canada compares favorably in its\nmorality with any portion of the Christian world. An American\nCatholic entering one of these rural parish churches described,\nthough recognizing the same service in the offering of the holy\nsacrifice, would be struck by several distinctive features in the\nMass and congregation, and perhaps more than one observance that,\nas a republican Catholic, he never before witnessed. Distinctions\nin society are observed, but the deference is paid to superior\ngoodness only; the lines that mark the grades of superiority in\nsociety being drawn by the personal worth of the possessor in his\nelevation to the place of honor. Three chief officers are elected\nfrom among the congregation every two years. They occupy the seat\nof honor in the church on a raised _banc_, in some cases\ncanopied, but always decorated by two candles and a crucifix. To\nthese points the priest first proceeds at the aspersion, and,\nmaking his obeisance and blessing, proceeds with the ceremony.\nAnd they are likewise first served on the distribution of the\n_pain b\u00e9nit_, and always take precedence in the grander\nceremonies of the church, being admitted within the sanctuary to\nreceive the palms, and on other appropriate occasions having the\n_place not\u00e9e_ assigned to their occupation. This gives the\nlaity an active part and place of honor in the service of the\nchurch. Personal worth, and aptitude to look after the secular\ninterests of the church, are the sole qualifications for this\nposition, and the united voice of the congregation, in assembly,\ndeclares their choice. No alteration or repairs, or any movement\nconnected with changes in matters pertaining to the interests of\nthe church, can be undertaken without their approval. They are\nthe defenders of the secular interests, as the priest is\nexclusively of the spiritual direction, but most generally\nharmonize with their cur\u00e9 in any plans of improvement he may\nsuggest.\n\n{251}\n\nAn American participating in these Canadian services could\nintelligently follow all that is exhibited in the ritual, though\nhe would be surprised in a simple rural population at the pomp\nand exactitude with which on grand occasions the services would\nbe performed. No ceremony is omitted that would give dignity to\ndevotion, and the Roman ritual is closely followed. Although the\nAmerican stranger might not understand the French sermon or hymn,\ngenerally sung during the gradual or communion service, still in\ncommon faith he would recognize the offering of the great\nsacrifice, expressed in the same sonorous language in which the\nservice of the Church offers her devotions in every clime. Thus,\nas a foreigner, in the Catholic Church he would in the most\nsolemn parts of the service feel at home. In common with Roman\ndiscipline, the Diocese of Quebec excludes female singers from\nthe organ-loft, save by dispensation during the month of Mary,\nwhen this joyful season is marked by this indulgence. The\nchoristers, composed of men and boys, sit within the sanctuary,\nin stalls arranged in a double row on either side, and these are\nchosen for their excellent character as well as vocal powers.\n[Footnote 113]\n\n [Footnote 113: They sometimes number forty\n or fifty in an ordinary village church.]\n\nNone would be admitted who did not possess the one qualification\nof piety. All are decently surpliced, and on Sundays and\nf\u00eate-days four of the boys wear, in addition to the surplice,\npendent wings of muslin, neatly plaited, and act as the prominent\nassistants to the Mass. At the feast of Corpus Christi, the\ngrandest ceremonial of the Church, (after the consecration of a\nbishop,) as many as eight censers are used, and the road through\nwhich the _cort\u00e9ge_ passes is garlanded with flowers, and\nbanners are waving from every point. The grandeur of the\nceremonial exceeds that of cathedral pomp in American cities, for\nthe procession makes the out-door circuit of the village,\nstopping at four sections for the benediction. Two of these are\nerected temporarily of boughs of trees tastefully decorated, and\nmost villages possess two small chapels distinct from the church\nthat are permanently constructed for these purposes, and used on\nvarious occasions, whenever the bishop prescribes peculiar\ndevotions. Thus, at the blessing of the seeds of the earth, in\ninvoking prayers for a plentiful harvest, in times of plague,\nwar, or inundation, these specialty services are peculiarly\nenjoined, and these chapels are then ever ready for the reception\nof the sacrament. Otherwise they are closed and unused, and only\nstand as memorials of the faith of the people; marking with the\nemblem of Christianity the Catholic land of Canada. At every mile\na black cross stands as a milestone to point the way and keep\nreligious hope alive on every side and every step; and sometimes,\nto mark special blessings in answer to prayers, these crosses are\nhandsomely carved and of stone, and almost always enclose, even\nwhen of ordinary material, some sacred statue of venerated saint.\nThus in the frigid clime and snow-capped hills of Canada, a\nCatholic love of the beautiful, pure, and good stands in\nmemorials as frequent as may be found in the sunny climes of\nItaly or of the smiling lands of the south. Who will say that\nthese objects of veneration do not tend to keep faith alive? The\nrustic Canadian, as he passes the memorial, lifts his mind to the\nhigher reality to which it points, and in respectful adoration\neither raises his hat or devoutly crosses himself in prayer. Call\nit superstition if you will, but it is at least a harmless form\nof decent respect to the earthly insignia of heavenly realities\nwhich the emblem represents.\n{252}\nThe same respect, too, is universally extended to the cur\u00e9 when\nhe passes abroad; all bow or lowly make their obeisance to the\nman of God. These outward manifestations of human respect only\nteach lessons of honor for the office proper to be observed; and,\nto the credit of Protestant gentlemen it may be added, in Lower\nCanada, the character and influence of the priest are so highly\nesteemed that, even though strangers to the Church, in many\ninstances they conform to the custom. A Catholic never passes the\nclergy of the church without the compliment of the _salut_;\nto omit the observance would be a mark of disrespect. These\npeculiarities, like the order of the church service, arrest the\nattention of the American Catholic. The whole Mass is uniformly\nperformed in Gregorian tones. The versicle of the day and the\n_Introit_ are chanted by leading voices in the sanctuary.\nThe choir commence the _Kyrie_, and it is likewise\nresponsively intoned alternately, first by voices in the\nsanctuary, and then, with organ accompaniment, answered by\nsingers in the organ-loft. And so the service is carried on most\nimpressively, throughout the _Gloria_ and _Credo_, even\nunto the canon of the Mass, with the same tone that is proper to\nthe Mass of the day. Thus is produced an effect of solemn harmony\nand unity with the celebrant at the altar. No light operatic air\nclashes with the severe ritual, but all is grave and subdued, and\nonly relieved by the simple pathos of some French hymn,\ncreditably chanted, and most frequently as a solo, by the best\nvoice of the choir. The Canadians are a music-loving people, and\nall orders cultivate this gift of nature. Their melodies are\nspirit-stirring and deserving of wider cultivation. As it is,\nmany of our popular airs spring from _la chanson\nCanadienne_. Frugal in their tastes, the simple pleasures of\nsocial companionship are their chief relaxation; though the games\nand enjoyments of their hardy clime have their many votaries, and\nthey excel in all the manly out-door exercises, in which even\ntheir women participate. Perhaps this may be one reason, besides\nhigher moral causes, that account for the peculiar longevity and\nlarge families of the Canadian people. If more primitive in their\ncustoms than in lands where luxurious habits prevail, they are\nexempted from many evils consequent on their indulgence, and the\nvirtues of the heart flourish and abound in luxuriance as the\nteachings of the church prevail and are practised. Hospitality is\nthe crowning merit of the Canadian people. The stranger ever\nreceives a generous welcome and courteous attentions. The French\norigin of the people retains all the idiosyncrasies of the latter\nrace, and that easy grace of manner inseparable from French\nhabitude. A Canadian peasant will receive a stranger with a ready\ntact that is universal, even to those in the simplest rank in\nlife. This frankness and generosity of manner are partially the\ninfluence of the Church, which inculcates the practice of\ncourtesy springing from goodness of heart and virtuous intention,\nand it is especially inculcated in a rite peculiar to the\nCatholic Church in Canada. During the course of the Mass, every\nSunday, is duly observed the generally obsolete custom called the\n_Agapae_, of apostolic institution. It is one of those\nceremonials which in its latent significance teaches a wholesome\ntruth and duty, and it is to be regretted that it should have\nfallen into desuetude elsewhere.\n{253}\nSignificant of the good-fellowship that should prevail among all\nmembers of the human family, and in recognition of our common\ndependence one upon the other, and the duty of mutual aid and\nsupport to our brother-man, this feast of love is eaten in common\nby all ranks and conditions in life. If a Protestant should be\npresent, and conduct himself orderly during the service, the\ncourteous Canadian would extend a portion of the bread for the\nacceptance of his dissenting brother, as there is nothing of a\nsacramental character in its reception, and it is as free as the\nholy water fount in which the curious unbeliever often dips his\nhand with more superstitious dread than the Catholic believer. In\nthis rite, large loaves of bread are prepared in rotation by the\nrespective families of the parish, each in their order supplying\nthe demand. This is called _le pain b\u00e9nit_, blessed bread;\nand, after its benediction by prayer, that our daily food may be\nused to our advantage, which ceremony takes place from the steps\nof the altar, just before the _Gloria_, it is cut and\ndivided into small pieces among the congregation, who receive it\nfrom the ushers, (the _maires_ being first served,) in\nwhatever position they may be in during the course of the\nservice--either kneeling, seated, or standing. Its distribution\nusually commences during the course of the _Credo_, and,\nunless the congregation is very large, concludes at least before\nthe commencement of the most solemn period of the Holy Sacrifice.\nThe ceremony creates no confusion, but is received as an ordinary\npart of the day's duties. The morsel is accepted, the recipient\nblesses himself, with a short prayer, and the particle is\nconsumed. The value of the observance of this rite is, the sacred\nlesson that it so significantly teaches. Its absence would only\ncreate remark in the mind of the _Habitant_, who is\nsingularly tenacious of any innovation on the established customs\nof his forefathers, even where they manifestly are somewhat\nburdensome to be observed; for the preparation of bread in three\nor four large loaves for a thousand people is not entirely an\ninsignificant matter. In the city churches of Quebec, the rite by\ndispensation is not observed, but it is universal in all the\nrural parishes. \"_La religion est chang\u00e9e_.\" the\n_Habitant_ would say with a sigh, should an effort be made\nto cut loose from any of the ancient landmarks and customs to\nwhose practice he had been accustomed. The observance of this\nhabit is therefore wisely retained, as teaching a wholesome\nlesson of charity to our fellow-man. All are recipients alike,\nyoung and old, the sinner as well as the saintly, for all have\nneed of the tender indulgence of each other in deference to their\ncommon infirmities. Many lands of softer clime possess fairer\nscenes and a richer soil; but for the elevated affections of the\nheart in simplicity, none possess in a rarer degree those virtues\ncalculated to render man noble and happy, and to elevate him in\nthe social scale, than the people of these northern possessions\nthat bound our American limits. Perhaps in the march of events,\nshould their country ever be absorbed with our own republican\ninstitutions, the strongest bond of fellowship will be, the\ncommon religion they hold in such perfect unity with numbers of\ntheir American brethren. It is this principle that will render\nthem adaptive to our political institutions as good citizens;\nand, perhaps, in simple faith, earnest devotion, and rigid\nstandard of observances of the Catholic faith, the American\nCatholic could well borrow from his Canadian brethren a portion\nof that zeal for which they are so justly conspicuous.\n\n{254}\n\nOur limits forbid all that might be said of the Catholic\nhierarchy in Canada; a body of men who, for learning, piety, and\nself-sacrifice, furnish so many glorious examples worthy of\nimitation. Zealous in the cause of education, as fervent in their\npiety, they have made the sterling worth of the Canadian Church a\nsubject for praise and imitation in every land. The simplest\nCanadian follows the language of the Church in his daily prayers;\nand as the Angelus sounds within her borders thrice a day, or the\npassing-bell tells of a soul departed, or the joyful chime\nproclaims a Christian received within the Church, the Latin\nprayer universally ascends from a thousand hearts, and Heaven's\nbenisons follow in benignant response. May the sun of prosperity\never lighten her borders!\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n The Story Of Marcel,\n The Little Mettray Colonist.\n\n\n Chapter I.\n\n \"O grief beyond all other griefs! when fate\n First leaves the young heart desolate\n In the wide world.\"\n Moore.\n\nIt was at the close of the memorable 26th of June, 1848, one of\nthe most dreadful days of that sanguinary strife called \"the\nRevolution,\" which had desolated Paris since the month of\nFebruary, that a man, dressed in a torn and blood-stained blouse,\nhis face and hands black with gunpowder, and carrying a gun on\nhis shoulder, climbed hastily the dark, dirty staircase of a\nhouse in the Rue de la Parcheminerie. He was followed by a\nmiserable-looking child of apparently about eight years old,\nwhose little, trembling legs managed with difficulty to keep up\nwith the long strides of the individual before him, who from time\nto time looked back to see that he was coming.\n\nOn reaching the third story, the revolutionist, for such he\nevidently was, opened a door, and entered a dismal, bad-smelling\nroom of poverty-stricken aspect. A woman of about forty was\nthere, busily occupied over a small iron furnace casting lead\nbullets, of which a number ready for use were lying on the dirty\nbrick floor beside her.\n\n\"Here they are, all hot, all hot,\" cried she with a fierce laugh\nas he came in. \"I don't keep you waiting for your tools, you see;\nthere's not a citizen of Paris that has a better help-mate than\nyou, Auguste; is there, now? And I'm as ready with my knife\nas--but what have you there?\" And the dreadful woman strode\nforward a step as she caught sight of the child, half-hidden\nbehind her husband.\n\n{255}\n\n\"It's a poor little devil I picked up on a barricade,\" replied\nAuguste. \"Ma foi! I believe that he had followed his father to\nthe fight, where the citizen received his passport for the other\nworld; the little one had hooked himself on to the corpse, and I\nhad some trouble to loosen his hold, and afterward to put him on\nhis legs again; but a drop of brandy did it at last, and here he\nis!\"\n\n\"And what on earth are we to do with him?\" vociferated the woman,\nwho had listened to this explanation with many a shrug and\nmenacing gesture. \"I shall not feed him, I tell you. Where's the\ngrub to come from, I should like to know?\"\n\n\"Come, now,\" said Auguste soothingly, \"be reasonable, do. Now\nthat the dog's dead, you can give him the bones and lickings,\ncan't you? It won't cost more to keep this little wretch than it\ndid to keep the dog. Not so much, I believe.\"\n\n\"He's not worth either bones or lickings,\" screamed the wife.\n\"Medor earned his living, while this beast of a child\"--here she\ncaught the frightened boy by the arm and whirled him violently\nround--\"hasn't the strength of a fly!\"\n\n\"He'll be able to pick up rags in a day or two, Pelagie, you will\nsee; Come, now, let us keep him. Here, sit down, young one.\" And\nAuguste pushed the child down on a wooden stool.\n\nPelagie stormed, but Auguste at last gained the day, and even\nobtained a crust of bread for the wretched little creature, whose\nlarge eyes glanced from the one to the other of the speakers\nwhile they debated his fate. His thin, pale cheek still bore the\ntraces of the tears he had shed when his father fell, shot\nthrough the heart, on the barricade, and his little blouse and\ntorn trousers were stained with his father's blood!\n\nWe shall not repeat the conversation of the husband and wife on\nthe events of the day--that day when the infatuated workpeople\nand proletaires of Paris murdered the venerable priest who,\nobedient to the call of his sacred duties, had come to the scene\nof strife and slaughter to preach mercy and forbearance. \"The\nshepherd gives his life for his sheep,\" and, \"May my blood be the\nlast shed,\" were the last words of Archbishop Affre. Alas! when\nthe torch of civil war is once lighted, men seem to grow mad; the\nfiercest passions of humanity are let loose, and ruin and death\nseem alone able to end the struggle. So has it ever been with the\nexcitable people of Paris; so will it ever be with the ignorant\nand vicious. Many fell after the good archbishop, and among them\nAuguste Vautrin. He had gone off, carrying with him the\nnewly-made bullets, and leaving the child whose life he had\nprobably saved; he returned no more. A neighbor whispered to\nPelagie that same night that her husband was lying dead in the\nRue St. Antoine, but the depraved and unloving wife did not care\nto reclaim his body, and all that was left of the miserable man\nwas consequently thrown ignominiously into the common grave of\nthe misguided revolutionists.\n\n\n Chapter II.\n\n \"Pinn'd, beaten, cold, pinch'd, threaten'd, and abused,\n His efforts punish'd and his food refused,\n Awake tormented, soon aroused from sleep,\n Struck if he wept, and yet compelled to weep,\n The trembling boy dropped down, and strove to pray,\n Received a blow, and trembling turned away.\"\n\n Crabbe.\n\n\nPelagie Vautrin, now a widow, continued to gain her living as\nbefore. She was what is called in France a \"merchant of the four\nseasons,\" that is, a costermonger, hawking about the streets in a\nhandcart the different vegetables and fruits of each season,\nsometimes even venturing on a load of salt mackerel, sometimes of\ndried figs. She was a strong, masculine-looking virago, who might\nhave gained a tolerable living, for one day with another brought\nher in about three francs, had she not been given to drink.\n{256}\nEvery bargain she made either to buy or to sell was ratified by a\nglass of brandy, so that by the time she had emptied her cart,\nher pocket was nearly empty too. At all times without gentleness\nor pity, she became almost ferocious when excited by liquor, and\nit was a cruel fate that had made the little orphan fall into her\nhands. He, poor fellow, seemed to be quite friendless. Questioned\nand cross-questioned by Pelagie and her neighbors, he could give\nno further account of himself than that he was called Marcel, and\nthat his father was shot on the barricade; the child shuddered\neach time that he was forced to answer this. He appeared never to\nhave known his mother, replying always that he had lived with his\nfather, only with his father, and nobody else. He was a slight,\nelegantly formed boy, with the intelligent, delicate features\npeculiar to the true Parisian. Timid and nervous, he trembled\neach time that Pelagie addressed him, and implicitly obeyed her\nslightest order.\n\nDuring the two days that followed the death of Auguste, Pelagie\nremained shut up in her dirty, close-smelling room. Whether she\nfeared that the restoration of public order might expose her to\nthe unpleasant observation of the law, or that the loss of her\nhusband did really somewhat affect her, we know not; certain it\nis that she staid quietly at home, and even shared the bread and\nboiled beef that a neighbor had fetched for her from a\n_gargote_, or poor eating-house, near by, with Marcel. He\nhad been provided with a heap of rags for a bed, and permitted to\nsleep. And for two nights, poor boy, he had slept as children,\nhappily the poor as well as the rich, only can sleep--forgetful\nof the past and unthinking of the future. But on the morning of\nthe third day, Pelagie got up in full possession of all her\nwonted energy and brutality.\n\n\"Out of bed, little beggar!\" were her first words, as she pushed\nthe sleeping child with her foot; \"out of bed; you must begin to\nwork for your bread. Now, listen to me,\" she continued, as\nMarcel, with a scared look, started up ready-dressed from his bed\nof rags; \"listen, do you hear, to me. You will go search for all\nthe bits of old iron, old nails, and things of that sort, that\nyou can find in the streets and gutters. Here is a leathern bag\nto put them in; do you see? I shall tie it about your waist, and\ntake care you don't lose it. And here is a basket and a hook;\nwith this hook you will catch up all the pieces of paper and rag\nthat you see, and put them into the basket. Now, mind what you're\nabout: I shall have an eye on you, wherever you may be. Here is a\npiece of bread; and don't come back until your basket is full, or\nI shall skin you.\"\n\nSo saying, she thrust the bewildered, frightened boy out of the\ndoor, which she shut immediately, leaving him to grope his way\ndown the dark, crazy staircase as he best might.\n\nAfter two or three falls he reached the door of the house, and\nfound himself in the narrow, filthy gutter called the Rue de la\nParcheminerie--one of the impure, airless thoroughfares of that\nold Paris which the present ruler of France is levelling to give\nplace to wide, healthful, handsome streets and squares. He stood\na moment hesitating whether he should turn to the right or to the\nleft, when the voice of Pelagie calling to him from the window\nabove made him look up. \"Be off!\" she screamed. \"I'm watching\nyou, and mind you bring me back all you get!\"\n\n{257}\n\nThe child shouldered his basket and ran on. Turning the corner\nand out of sight of his fierce protectress, if we may call her\nso, he stopped, poor little fellow! His basket and hook dropped\nto the ground, as with a gesture of despair he threw up his hands\ntoward heaven and cried aloud, \"O my father! my father!\"\n\nThe cry and the gesture were not addressed to that Heavenly\nFather whose eye was then as ever upon him, full of pity and\nmercy though unseen and incomprehensible, for the unhappy orphan\nknew not how to pray; but we can believe that it was heard and\nanswered, as if it had been a direct supplication to the throne\nof grace; not then, perhaps, but in the fulness of that time\nwhich he hath chosen for our consolation. A moment after, the boy\ngathered up his fallen basket and hook and diligently set to\nwork. Not a rag or scrap of paper escaped his searching eye.\nNails and metal buttons, and bits of old iron, and many a\nflattened bullet that had probably done some deadly work, all\nfound their way into his basket or his leathern bag.\n\nToward twelve o'clock he found himself near the fountain in St.\nMichael's Place; tired and hot, he took a drink, and, seating\nhimself on the curbstone near by, began to eat the piece of bread\nthat Pelagie had given him that morning. His appetite was good,\nand he enjoyed his dry crust better than many a rich man did his\nsumptuous dinner that day. His little teeth went so busily and\nvigorously to work, that a hackney-coachman belonging to the\ncoach-stand in the place, and who was lazily contemplating\nhumanity from his box-seat, after watching him awhile with\nadmiration, threw him a sou, telling him to buy some sausage,\nbecause he deserved something for the way in which he attacked\nthat piece of brick-bat.\n\n\"He has teeth like a rat,\" cried the coachman, grinning, to one\nof his comrades; \"the way he nibbles that crust, that's as hard\nas the stone he's sitting on, is a sight!\"\n\nMarcel took the sou, and returned a look of such smiling\ngratitude that the observant coachman again remarked to his\nfriend that that little chap had eyes like the gazelle's in the\nGarden of Plants; \"they're just as soft and tender,\" added he,\n\"only blue.\" But the child dared not spend the money on\nhimself--had not Pelagie told him to bring her back everything he\ngot? So he put it into the bag with the old iron, and once more\nwent to work. Steadily and earnestly he plodded on, all his\nlittle faculties concentrated on his task, so that at five in the\nafternoon his leathern bag was full, and his basket piled up and\npressed down.\n\nGlad and triumphant, with some hope of kind words this time at\nleast, he turned toward the Rue de la Parcheminerie, and reached\nthe wretched house just as Pelagie was pushing her empty handcart\nthrough the narrow passage into the yard, where it was put up\nunder a shed for the night. He climbed the staircase and stood\nwaiting for her on the landing-place before the door of her room.\n\n\"You here!\" she cried when she perceived him. \"What's brought you\nback so soon, you little _vaurien_?\" [Footnote 114]\n\n [Footnote 114: Worth-nothing.]\n\n\"My basket and my bag are both full, madam,\" replied Marcel,\ntrembling as he looked up into the furious eyes of the drunken\nvirago.\n\n\"I shall soon see that.\" She pushed him violently into the room.\n\"Now, give me the bag.\"\n\nShe snatched it from him as she spoke and emptied out the\ncontents on the floor.\n\n{258}\n\n\"Why, what is this?\" she exclaimed as she caught sight of the\nsou. \"Did you find this? don't you know what it is?\"\n\n\"I know what it is, madam; it was given to me to buy some sausage\nwith to flavor my bread.\"\n\n\"To flavor your bread, you little beggar! Good bread's not good\nenough for you, then! I'll flavor your bread, you idiot.\" And\nwith her strong right hand she dealt him a blow on the side of\nthe head that felled him instantly to the floor.\n\nHe hid his bruised face in his little trembling hands and lay\nthere weeping silently.\n\n\"Get up, get up, you idle dog; you're not going to stay there, I\ncan tell you! Come, take your basket and hook and be off again.\"\nThe unfeeling woman pulled up the wretched child as she spoke.\n\"What! crying! I'll have none of that! Come, be off! You'll get\nno supper, I promise you, until your basket's full again.\"\n\nDown the crazy staircase once more the little orphan stumbled\ninto the street--hungry and tired, his cheek blue with the cruel\nblow, and his young heart swelling with the sense of so much\ninjustice and oppression. The thought came to him suddenly that\nhe would not return again to that wicked woman; but then, where\nshould he go? Who would take care of him? He wandered through\nmany dirty, narrow streets while he thus meditated, and at last\nfound himself before the old church of St. Etienne du Mont. He\nsaw some children going in, and followed them. There was so\nprofound a silence in the sacred edifice, such a soft, subdued\nlight streamed in from the beautiful painted windows, that the\nchild's agitated, angry heart seemed calmed almost by a miracle.\nHe slunk into a dark corner, and there, doing as he saw the\nhappier children with whom he had entered do, he knelt. He did\nnot pray; he had never known a mother's care, never been taught\nto lisp \"Our Father who art in heaven\" at his mother's knee; but\npeace and forgiveness entered into the orphan's soul as he knelt,\nsilent, unheeded, in that dark corner of God's house.\n\nHalf an hour after he slunk out again into the street, feeling\nbetter, he knew not why, poor ignorant boy, and only anxious to\ntry to satisfy his task-mistress.\n\nAll the evening he went to and fro, filling his basket from the\nheaps of rubbish thrown into the streets as soon as night comes\nby the numerous inhabitants of Parisian houses. At last, when ten\no'clock had struck from all the church-towers in the quarter, he\nagain climbed to the third story. The door was ajar, he entered\nsoftly, and saw, by the light of a gas-lamp that was on the\nopposite side of the street, Pelagie Vautrin lying extended on\nher bed, and snoring the heavy sleep of the drunkard.\n\nHe crept, tired and hungry, to his heap of rags, and soon happily\nforgot for a few hours that he was motherless and fatherless, a\nlittle waif adrift on the sea of life.\n\nThus passed and ended Marcel's first day of labor.\n\n\n\n Chapter III.\n\n\n \"Thus liv'd the lad, in hunger, peril, pain,\n His tears despis'd, his supplications vain.\n ...\n Strange that a frame so weak could bear so long\n The grossest insult and the foulest wrong;\n But there were causes.\"\n Crabbe.\n\n{259}\n\nMarcel had continued to ply this business for the profit of\nPelagie Vautrin about two years, most times half-starved, and\nofttimes beaten, and had become one of the quickest-sighted and\nquickest-witted of the little rag-pickers of Paris, when one wet\nwinter's night, as he passed near St. Michael's Bridge, he put\nhis foot on something hard.\n\nTo pick it up, to see by the nearest gaslight that it was a\ncoarse linen bag, containing a quantity of gold coin, was the\nwork of a minute; the next saw him running as if for dear life to\nthe office of the Commissary of Police in the Rue des Noyers; he\nknew the place well by the red-glass lamp over the door. Almost\nbreathless he handed his prize to the worthy magistrate, telling\nhim at the same time where he had found it.\n\nThe commissary looked into his little, eager, intelligent face\nwhile he told his story, then taking his hand kindly, \"You are a\ngood boy,\" said he, \"and, mark my words, your honesty will bring\nyou good luck.\"\n\nMarcel blushed with pleasure and surprise to be praised, but\nstood nervously twirling his ragged cap round and round.\n\n\"The man who lost the bag of gold,\" continued the commissary,\n\"was here half an hour since; he is a poor clerk, and is in\ndespair; he is afraid of going back to his employers to tell them\nthat he has lost their money. You have saved him and his poor\nwife and children from much misery. Go, you are a good boy; but\nfirst tell me your name and where you live.\"\n\nThe child told him, it was written carefully down, and he then\nwent away happier than he had ever been since that dreadful day\nwhen he had convulsively fastened himself to his father's dead\nbody as it lay on the barricade.\n\nBut as he approached his miserable home, this happy feeling\ndecreased; and he began to think of what Pelagie would say if she\nknew what he had been doing. To tell or not to tell, that was the\nquestion, and it was not yet decided when he opened the door of\nthe dismal room, where Pelagie, drunk as usual, was making her\npreparations for going to bed.\n\n\"And where do you come from, _vaurien?_\" asked she as he\ncame in.\n\nHe did not reply; he was not prepared with a lie, and he feared\nto tell the truth. Pelagie, accustomed to prompt and ready\nanswers from her victims, turned round and stared at him,\nsurprised beyond measure at this unwonted hesitation.\n\n\"Do you hear, little beast, do you hear!\" she screamed presently.\n\"Where do you come from? Why don't you answer me?\" And she seized\nhim violently by the arm.\n\n\"Pray don't beat me!\" said the child imploringly. \"I will tell\nyou. As I was passing over St. Michael's Bridge, I--I found--a\nbag--\"\n\n\"A bag!\" exclaimed Pelagie, still holding him fast. \"A bag of\nwhat? Quick! quick! Speak faster!\"\n\n\"Of gold,\" whispered the child, trembling, for he _knew_ now\nthat he should suffer for what he had done.\n\n\"Of gold? of gold? Where is it? Give it to me!\" And she fumbled\nabout his little breast, as if she thought it must be hidden\nthere.\n\n\"I haven't got it!\" said the boy, whose cheeks waxed paler and\npaler, but whose blue eyes met hers for once undauntedly. \"I\ncarried it to the Commissary of Police.\"\n\nFor one moment the drunken fury looked at him silently, and then\nburst forth in bitter curses and bitterer blows. Hard and fast\nthey fell on the young head and tender face; he was knocked down\nand kicked up again--hurled against the wall--pushed into the\nfire-place--and at last thrown upon the cranky table, which fell\nwith so terrible a crash that the noise fortunately brought up\nthe tenants of the story beneath in time to prevent a murder; for\nit is too probable that would have been the end of this frightful\nscene, if no one had come to save poor Marcel.\n\n{260}\n\n\"Madame, Madame Vautrin!\" cried M. Poquet, as he rushed into the\nroom, followed by his wife and a number of the neighbors, \"what\nis the matter here? Pray, be calm. You've beaten that child too\nmuch! Now, stop, or I'll go for the police.\" And the strong man\nseized the furious woman in his arms, while his wife and one or\ntwo other women got hold of Marcel and carried him down-stairs,\ncovered with blood and bruises, to the Poquets' room.\n\nCovered with blood and bruises! Such was this wretched child's\nreward for the first act of probity he had as yet found an\nopportunity of performing!\n\nBe gentle, then, in your judgment of his future errings. O\nchildren of happier fortunes! ye who are encouraged in every\ngenerous thought and honest deed by the tender caresses of a\nmother and the approving smiles of a father, remember that\n_he_ was an ignorant, homeless orphan, whose first good\nimpulses were beaten out of him, or stifled by the vicious\ninfluences which surrounded him.\n\nMonsieur and Madame Poquet were--it is a pity to be obliged to\nsay it of such a kind-hearted couple--no better than they should\nbe, rather, indeed, far worse. M. Poquet called himself a\ncobbler, but few, very few were the boots or shoes that could\nshow trace of his handiwork. Talking politics in the\n_cabaret_ [Footnote 115] at the corner, with idlers like\nhimself, seemed to be his principal occupation; but there were\nrumors afloat that, at night, when honest men were sleeping\npeacefully in their beds, he and his companions were dodging the\npolice, and trying to _find_ the money they would not\n_work_ for. Certain it is he generally had a forty-sous\npiece in his pocket, and few people knew how he got it.\n\n [Footnote 115: Wine-shop.]\n\nMadame Poquet earned or rather thieved her living as a _femme\nde m\u00e9nage_ [Footnote 116] and a very good living she made too;\nfor, not satisfied with stuffing herself as full as she could of\nvictuals at her employer's house, she regularly brought back\nevery evening in a great basket, that was continually suspended\nat her arm, such a supply of cheese, charcoal, sugar, garlic,\nbread, cigars, cold meat, and such like, that there was not a\nbetter furnished cupboard nor better fed children than hers in\nthe neighborhood.\n\n [Footnote 116: Charwoman.]\n\nThese children consisted of a boy and a girl--Polycarpe and\nLoulou--cunning, ready-witted, unprincipled, and idle. Never had\nthey heard a word of truth; their only teaching since they came\ninto the world had been to lie and steal, but like their parents\nthey were naturally merry and good-tempered; they had never been\nill-treated, as children generally are among the vicious poor,\nand they were well-disposed to be generous with their pilfered\nplenty.\n\nSuch were the people who had rescued the orphan from Pelagie\nVautrin's murderous hands, and who now washed away the blood from\nseveral cuts on his head, and applied such remedies to his poor\nbruised limbs as they were acquainted with. And Madame Poquet had\na kind, motherly way with her that comforted poor Marcel\nwonderfully, and Polycarpe and Loulou showed much sympathy; and\nat last he was put into bed (a dirty one, it is true, but warm)\nwith Polycarpe; and the boy fell asleep happier, notwithstanding\nhis aches and pains, than he had been for many a year of his\nshort life.\n\n{261}\n\nFor three whole days Marcel remained quietly with the Poquets,\nwho would willingly have kept him altogether, and only hoped that\nPelagie would let things be as they were. The fourth morning,\nhowever, brought a change. Scarcely had Madame Poquet taken\nherself and her great basket off for her day's work and\npilfering, and M. Poquet slunk off a moment after to the\n_cabaret_ at the corner, when Madame Vautrin appeared\nsuddenly before the frightened eyes of the three children. She\nwas sober, and in few words ordered Marcel to get his basket and\nhook and go to work. The trembling boy silently obeyed.\n\n\n Chapter IV.\n\n \"Alas! regardless of their doom,\n The little victims play!\n No sense have they of ills to come,\n Nor care beyond to-day.\n Yet see how all around them wait\n The ministers of human fate\n And black misfortune's baleful train.\"\n\n Gray.\n\nBut Polycarpe Poquet did not drop the acquaintance so well begun;\nfar from it; he seemed to have become really attached to the\npale, weak child, who was about a year younger than himself, and\nproved his friendship by becoming a kind of amateur rag-picker\nand helping to fill the dreadful basket and leathern bag that\nPelagie exacted twice a day. This business finished, he would\nlead off Marcel in quest of amusement, with the understood\nintention also of picking up a few sous as he best could, and\nPolycarpe was not at all particular.\n\nAll was new to Marcel; he had never yet had time to stroll\nthrough the great thoroughfares at the hours when the magnificent\nshops of Paris display their wonderful merchandise to tempt the\nluxurious rich. He had not even ever crossed the bridges since\nthat fatal 26th of June, 1848, and knew nothing of beautiful\nParis but the narrow and busy streets of the \"Quartier Latin,\"\nthe quarter of the great schools, of the College of France, the\nSorbonne, and the Institute.\n\nHow wonder-stricken was he the day that Polycarpe conducted him\nto the Place de la Concorde! The sky was blue, the sun bright,\nthe two beautiful fountains were spouting their many waters in\nfeathery spray, the grand old chestnut-trees of the Tuileries\ngardens were in full bloom behind him, palaces on either side of\nhim, and before him stretched away the magnificent avenue of the\nChamps Elys\u00e9es, bordered by trees and flowers and grassy lawns,\nand bounded in the far distance by the Arch of Triumph! The boy's\nheart swelled within him, for the love of the beautiful was\nhidden in it, as well as the sense of the good and true, and he\ncould not speak. He had never gazed before on so brilliant a\nscene, and he could find no words to express his feelings.\n\nPolycarpe understood nothing of this silent admiration, and after\nloitering a short time around some of the _caf\u00e9s_ among the\ntrees in the avenue, proposed going down on the quay to look at\nthe river. They stopped for a glass of brandy at the nearest\n_cabaret_--for Marcel had learnt this dreadful habit from\nhis friend, who had been accustomed to tipple from his very\nbirth--and then, ready for any mischief, descended to the river's\nside. An old lady was standing there, gazing at the swift-flowing\nwater, as if she were longing to throw into it a very\napoplectic-looking little dog she held by a string.\n\n\"Marcel, Marcel,\" whispered Polycarpe, \"I'm going to have some\nfun with that old woman. I'll squeeze some sous out of her, you\nsee if I don't!\"\n\n{262}\n\nHe started off running as he spoke, then suddenly stopped close\nto the dog.\n\n\"What a love of a dog!\" cried he in apparent ecstasy. \"I never\nsaw a prettier little animal in my life! What kind of a dog do\nyou call that, madam?\"\n\n\"It is a Scotch dog, my young friend,\" replied the old lady,\nevidently much flattered; \"you have very good taste, for he is\nreally a very pretty creature.\"\n\n\"He is a love!\" ejaculated Polycarpe.\n\n\"I have brought him here for a bath,\" continued the old lady. \"I\nthink that it would do him good if he would swim a little.\"\n\n\"That it would, madam,\" answered Polycarpe, stroking and kissing\nthe fat, wheezy little animal; \"but it would be well to give him\na little rubbing first; his skin is rather dirty, I perceive,\nmadam, on looking close. I'll wash him for you, if you like. I'm\nused to washing dogs. I wash my mother's dog every Saturday,\nmadam.\"\n\n\"Really!\" said the old lady. \"Well, I _should_ be glad to\ngive Zozor a good washing, but I'm afraid he's difficult; he\ndon't like it; he never did.\"\n\n\"That's nothing, madam. Julius Caesar--that's my mother's dog--\ndon't like it, but he's obliged to, for it's for his good. You\nshould just see Julius Caesar when I've washed and dressed him!\nHe's perfectly beautiful! He's a poodle, quite white, and I've\ncut his coat so that he has a flounce round each ankle, three\nrows of fringe on his hips, a fine bandelet on his side, a frill\non his chest, and a magnificent tassel at the end of his tail.\"\n\n\"He must be very handsome,\" remarked the old lady, who had\nlistened with much interest to this description.\n\n\"He is, madam. My mother says no one can dress a dog better than\nI can. So I'll wash Zozor, if you like; I'll not hurt him in the\nleast.\"\n\n\"You're very kind, indeed,\" said the old lady. \"I really shall be\nvery much obliged to you. Now then, Zozor, don't be naughty; it\nwill do you good, Zozor.\"\n\nSo saying, the trustful old lady undid the string attached to her\npet's collar, and delivered the victim into the hypocrite's\nhands. In an instant the wretched little creature was smeared\nfrom head to tail with a villanous compound of black soap and\nsoot that Polycarpe drew from one of his dirty pockets. The poor\nanimal howled dismally as his tormentor daubed him all over, and\nmore vehemently still when his eyes, nose, and mouth were crammed\nwith the nasty, stinging mixture.\n\n\"Now, madam,\" said Polycarpe, when the poor beast was well\nplastered and utterly unrecognizable, \"that's the first\noperation; and if you want me to go on, and wash it off, my\ncharge is forty sous, paid in advance. I never give credit: it's\na bad system; I've learnt that by experience.\"\n\n\"You wicked boy!\" screamed the old lady, \"you little impostor!\nyou've killed my poor Zozor!\"\n\nThe unlucky pet was rolling himself in the mud, in an agony of\npain.\n\n\"You cruel, wicked boy! Oh! what shall I do? what shall I do?\"\n\n\"Why, you've only to pay me the forty sous,\" said Polycarpe, who\nstood calmly contemplating the contortions of his victim, \"and\nI'll continue my operations. Forty sous is not dear, madam,\nespecially as I provide the soap.\"\n\n{263}\n\nThe old lady, unable to endure any longer the sight of her\ndarling's sufferings, at last drew from her purse a piece of\nforty sous, and put it into the outstretched palm of the young\nscamp, who no sooner had closed his dirty fingers on the coin\nthan he burst into an insulting laugh and took to his heels,\nleaving Zozor's mistress inarticulate with astonishment and rage.\n\nMarcel had stood a little distance off while this scene was\nenacting. At first he laughed; but when he saw how much the poor\ndog suffered, the innate humanity of his nature was awakened, and\nas soon as his friend had disappeared he approached the yelling\nanimal, and, with much difficulty and no little danger of being\nbitten, managed to seize him by the nape of the neck and throw\nhim into the water. The miserable animal struggled desperately,\nand so got rid of a great part of the soap and soot; with the\nhelp of a boatman who had come up just in time, Marcel got him\nout again, and, after a little rubbing and rinsing, restored him\nto his weeping mistress, clean, but with blood-shot eyes and\ninflamed nostrils, and certainly very much the worse for his\nadventure.\n\nThe poor lady was profuse in her thanks. \"You have saved his\nlife,\" she cried; \"I shall be eternally grateful to you; I will\nnever forget you!\" And she pressed her dripping darling to her\nheart, while she hastily climbed the steep that led from the\nriver's side to the quay above.\n\nMarcel followed when she was out of sight, and soon perceived\nPolycarpe waiting for him, and half-hidden behind one of the\nkiosks on the sidewalk in which newspapers are sold in Paris.\n\n\"So you washed that old woman's little monster!\" cried he, as\nsoon as he saw Marcel. \"You needn't have done that. Here I've\nbeen waiting for you to go to Mother Crapaud's for a real\nblow-out. Come along, now, I'm as hungry as a wolf. Did you ever\nsee an old woman so nicely done? O my eye! poor Zozor! wasn't he\nwell soaped?\"\n\n\n Chapter V.\n\n \"Let not Ambition mock their humble toil,\n Their vulgar crimes and villany obscure;\n Nor rich folks hear with a disdainful smile\n The low and petty knaveries of the poor.\n\n \"The titled villain and the thief of power,\n The greatest rogue that ever bore a name,\n Awaits alike the inevitable hour:\n The paths of wickedness but lead to shame.\"\n\n Parody On Gray's Elegy.\n\n\nPolycarpe's favorite dining-saloon, the gargote, or eating-house,\nof the M\u00e8re Crapaud, was situated in the Rue de la Huchette, one\nof the narrowest, darkest, and dirtiest of the old streets of\nParis. It was a large, low room, opening from the street; the\nwhole length of one side of it was taken up by four great\nfurnaces which cooked the contents of the four great marmites, or\nboilers, that were constantly suspended over them. The contents\nof three of these marmites consisted of beef-soup, flavored with\ncarrots, turnips, cabbage, onions, and garlic. The fourth\ngenerally contained stewed beans, a favorite accompaniment to the\nboiled beef. A kind of counter, on which stood baskets of cut\nbread and bowls of salad, separated the furnaces and marmites\nfrom the other part of the room, which was furnished with tables\nof six places each, and benches, all painted dark green. The\nplace was smoky and grimy, and not rendered pleasanter by the\npresence of the M\u00e8re Crapaud herself, an enormously fat,\nblear-eyed old woman, possessed of a most abusive tongue. Indeed,\nshe would have seemed better fitted to drive away than to attract\ncustomers. The M\u00e8re Crapaud, however, was very popular, and with\ngood reason; for not only were her beef and soup the very best\nthat could be bought for the money, but she also could be\ndepended on in critical moments, when those whom she recognized\nas regular customers were in difficulties with the authorities.\n\n{264}\n\nFifteen or sixteen customers, of all ages and of both sexes, were\nseated at the tables when the two boys entered, and the M\u00e8re\nCrapaud, brandishing the great spoon with which she measured her\nsoup, was busy behind the counter, assisted by two perspiring\nmarmitons. [Footnote 117]\n\n [Footnote 117: Scullions.]\n\n\"Bonjour, la m\u00e8re,\" said Polycarpe, as he entered with the ease\nand swagger of a well-known and favored guest; \"how goes it with\nyou?\"\n\n\"Bonjour, mauvais sujet,\" returned the hostess; \"what brings you\nhere, to-day?\"\n\n\"Well, I followed my nose, good mother, which was attracted by\nthe smell of your bouillon and beef, and brought me straight\nhere. Permit me to present my friend M. Marcel, a young gentleman\nwho is as yet unacquainted with the mysteries of your marmites.\"\n\n\"Mysteries! what do you mean by that, you little polisson? There\nare no mysteries in my soup-pots; good beef and good vegetables;\nfind any better if you can.\"\n\n\"Why, I know I can't, Mother Crapaud, and that's why I've come.\"\n\n\"I don't intend running up a score for you, M. Polycarpe, I can\ntell you; so clear out, you and your friend, if you've nothing to\npay with.\"\n\n\"But I have, Mother Crapaud. I'm a millionaire to-day, or very\nnearly so, and so I'm going to treat my friend and myself to two\nsous apiece of soup, and we'll see presently if you can give me\nchange for this.\" And he tossed up into the air and caught again\nthe silver piece he had extorted from poor Zozor's mistress.\n\nThe boys then seated themselves at one of the tables, and were\npresently served with a bowl of good bouillon and a hunk of\nbread.\n\n\"Now for a slice of fat beef, la m\u00e8re,\" said Polycarpe, when the\nsoup had disappeared; \"six sous' worth will be enough for us two,\nand two sous each of stewed beans. What a cram! isn't it,\nMarcel?\"\n\nMarcel did indeed like his good hot dinner. Poor fellow! it was\nonly when Polycarpe treated him that he knew what it was to eat\nhis fill. No conscientious scruples prevented his full enjoyment\nof the present. Conscience, that mirror of the soul, which never\nflatters, never deceives, was veiled in him by the thick mists of\nignorance, and the only kindnesses he ever received were from the\nhands of thieves.\n\nThey were finishing their beef and beans when two big, rough\nboys, dressed in dirty blue blouses and dirtier trousers of some\nnondescript color, rushed into the gargote and bellowed for\nsomething to eat. Throwing themselves on the bench opposite to\nthat on which Polycarpe and Marcel were seated, they commenced a\nseries of contortions, elbow nudges, whispers, and loud guffaws,\nwhich were only stopped by the arrival of their victuals. The\nelder of the two presently looked up, and, catching Polycarpe's\nfixed gaze, after a moment's hesitation exclaimed, \"Well, yes!\n'tis you, Polycarpe! I thought I remembered your face. I'm glad\nto meet you; you're a good one, I know.\"\n\nPolycarpe was evidently much flattered by this recognition. \"I\nthought I knew your face too, as soon as you sat down, Guguste,\nbut you were so full of fun that I wouldn't interrupt you.\"\n\n{265}\n\n\"I'll make you laugh presently,\" replied Guguste, bursting out\nafresh, as did his companion also. \"I'll tell you something\nthat'll tickle you. Come now, stop your noise,\" he continued to\nhis friend, who wriggled and choked in a convulsion of merriment,\n\"or I'll punch you quiet. I'll tell you, Polycarpe, when I've put\nthis plateful away. My eyes, what fun!\"\n\nSo saying, he and his friend fell to again, and had soon finished\nboth beef and beans. When the plates were empty, Guguste leaned\nhis two elbows on the table and took breath. \"That matter being\nhappily finished,\" said he presently, \"I'll tell you the other;\nit's a joke, a real good joke, in my opinion; what old Gorgibus\nthe shoemaker calls it, is another thing. What do you think he\ncalls it, eh! Touton? A riddle, perhaps. Ha, ha, a riddle!\"\n\nHis friend Touton twisted and wriggled and giggled so heartily at\nthis idea, that he fell off the bench in his ecstasy. \"What a\nfellow you are for fun!\" exclaimed Guguste, pulling him up; \"but\nreally I don't wonder at you, to-day! You must know, Poly, that I\nhaven't had a shoe to my feet that was decent for an age, and\nyou'll agree that _that_ was uncomfortable and unpleasant,\nnot to say inconvenient, especially for a man of business like\nmyself--ha, ha! So when I got up, this morning, I said to\nmyself--while I shaved, you know, ha, ha, ha!--that I really must\nfind some kind of covering for my trotters. But where? That was\nthe question. So, to settle it, Touton and I strolled about the\nstreets until we found ourselves pretty far in the Rue St.\nAntoine. What should we come upon all at once but a shoe-shop,\nand there in the window the very kind of shoes that suited my\ntaste. Gorgibus was the name over the door. I shall always\nremember it; sha'n't you, Touton?\"\n\n\"Don't speak to me, Guguste; I shall burst with laughing,\"\nreplied Touton. \"Poor old Gorgibus, at the sign of holy Saint\nCrispin! Oh! don't we owe him a candle, Guguste?\"\n\n\"That we do, Touton, and you shall go to the church of St.\nSeverin, it's close by, and pay it to the good saint!\"\n\n\"Not now, Guguste. Go on with the story, do; I want to know how\nyou got your shoes,\" cried Polycarpe.\n\n\"Well, then,\" continued the young reprobate, \"Touton and I\nconsulted together for a minute, and then in we went. 'I want a\ngood pair of shoes, monsieur,' said I very politely. 'I'm just\ngoing as clerk to a notary, and I must be well shod. What is the\nprice of this pair?'\n\n\"Ten francs,' said he.\n\n\"So I put my hand in my pocket and pulled out my cash, and\ncounted it over with him, and I had just nine francs. 'That's all\nI have,' said I, putting the money back again into my pocket;\n'will you give them to me for nine francs, if they fit me?'\n\n\"'Well, yes, I will, my boy,' said the old fellow good-naturedly.\nUpon that I sat down and put on both shoes; they went on like\ngloves, so comfortable, you have no idea! Then said I, 'Now, let\nme see if nothing hurts when I walk;' so I walked up and down the\nshop, old Gorgibus standing by admiring the fit, when, just as I\nwas passing near the door, this great vaurien of a Touton gave me\na punch in the nose!\"\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" screamed Touton, unable any longer to restrain\nhimself, \"how I cut up the street when I'd done it! and Guguste\ncried, 'Stop, you rascal, I'll make you pay for that!' And he ran\nand I ran, and old Gorgibus looked after us and laughed till he\ncried, and he's crying still very likely!--ha, ha, ha!--and\nwaiting for Guguste to come back and pay for the shoes! Ha, ha,\nha!\"\n\n{266}\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" echoed the listeners.\n\n\"And then the neighbors,\" continued Guguste, wiping his eyes,\n\"came to their doors, and kept calling out, 'He'll catch him,\nhe'll catch him!' O Lord! what fun! And what a capital pair of\nshoes!\" And the scamp put a foot on the table to show his prize,\nwhile the numerous customers around who had overheard the story\napplauded him with enthusiasm. Excited by the universal\nadmiration, Guguste now invited the two boys to accompany him and\nhis friend to the cabaret at the corner of the street to take a\nglass, an invitation most willingly accepted. The four\nunfortunate children accordingly, after paying for their dinners,\nadjourned to the wine-shop, where, in the society of bad men and\nworse women, they were initiated still deeper into the mysteries\nand the practice of crime.\n\nPoor Marcel! poor little orphan!\n\n\n To Be Continued.\n\n ----------\n\n Treatise On Purgatory. [Footnote 118]\n\n\t By Saint Catharine Of Genoa.\n\n [Footnote 118: The month of November is usually set apart by\n pious Catholics for commemoration of the souls in purgatory,\n and for prayers and offerings in their behalf. As specially\n befitting the season, therefore, we republish anew the\n beautiful _Treatise on Purgatory_ by St. Catharine of\n Genoa, with the above prefatory remarks by the translator.\n There have been several translations of the treatise\n heretofore published, and it might seem a needless work to\n give another. But besides its appropriateness to the season,\n and that many will read it in the pages of _The Catholic\n World_ who might not elsewhere see it, the new translation\n we now give has special merits of its own which will justify\n its publication.--ED. C. W.]\n\n\nWhen the gates of purgatory opened to Dante and his companion\nwith awful thunderous roar, he heard mingling with the sound a\nchorus of voices--\"We praise thee, O God!\"--rising and fading\naway like a solemn chant and sound of the organ under the arches\nof some vast cathedral.\n\nAnd afterward, while pursuing their journey, they felt the whole\nmountain of purgatory tremble. A shout arose--\"Glory be to God in\nthe Highest!\"--swelled by the voice of every suffering soul in\nthat vast realm. It was the expression of universal, unselfish\njoy over the deliverance of one soul from its bounds.\n\nSuch are the tones that ring all through the _Treatise on\nPurgatory_ by St. Catharine of Genoa--full of praise, of holy\njoy, and of unselfish love. It ought to be read beneath the mild\neyes of the Madonna in some old church, to the sound of solemn\nmusic. If you do not meet in it the dazzling angels of the great\nFlorentine poet, you feel their presence, and you rejoice like\nhim in the nooks of beauty where \"spring sweet, pale flowers of\npenitence,\" refreshed by the fragrant dews of God's mercy.\n\nThe patient, silent suffering of the tried souls she describes,\nwhich are living on the glimpse they had of the divine Splendor\nat the moment of death, is full of eloquence. They suffer\nintensely, but peace and joy rise above pain, as in the beautiful\nbay of Spezia, we are told, the sweet water rises up out of the\nsalt and bitter sea.\n\n{267}\n\nWhile reading this production of genius and of inspiration, we no\nlonger shrink from that dark region, lighted up, as it is, by\nrays of God's wonderful goodness. With St. Catharine, we regard\nit as a provision of great mercy which the soul gladly avails\nitself of as a means of purification, which will fit it for the\nawful presence of him in whose sight the very stars are not\npure--a presence the soul could not endure till it had purged\n\"the world's gross darkness off.\" As Faber says, \"The moment that\nin his sight it perceives its own unfitness for heaven, it wings\nits voluntary flight to purgatory, like a dove to her proper nest\nin the shades of the forest.\" It cries:\n\n \"Take me away, and in the lowest deep\n There let me be,\n And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,\n Told out for me.\n There, motionless and happy in my pain,\n Lone, not forlorn,\n There will I sing my sad perpetual strain,\n Until the morn.\n There will I sing, and soothe my stricken breast,\n Which ne'er can cease\n To throb, and pine, and languish, till possessed\n Of its sole peace.\n There will I sing my absent Lord and Love:--\n Take me away,\n That sooner I may rise, and go above,\n And see him in the truth of everlasting day.\" [Footnote 119]\n\n [Footnote 119: _Dream of Gerontius_, by Father Newman.]\n\nM. le Vicomte de Bussierre, in writing of this treatise, says:\n\"But is the state described by the saint that of all the souls\ndetained by divine justice in this place of expiation?\" The reply\nto this question requires some preliminary observations.\n\nThe dogma of the church respecting purgatory is very brief. The\nHoly Council of Trent is satisfied with declaring that there is a\npurgatory, and that the souls therein detained are helped by the\nsuffrages of the faithful.\n\nThe church does not define the nature of the sufferings endured\nthere, but this is our idea of them:\n\nThis world is a place of probation. In it are prepared the\nmaterials for the construction of the New Jerusalem. Not only\nstones are wanted for its walls, but jewels for its decoration.\nDiamonds are not cut in the same manner as common stones. Thence\nwe can perceive the necessity of different ways of preparing the\nrighteous for a higher state of existence. The place each one\nwill occupy in heaven is irrevocably fixed at the moment of\ndeath, but, before taking possession of it, he must have the\nhighest polish of which he is susceptible, and be without any\ndefect or stain.\n\nTake two persons who are entering purgatory. One has passed his\nlife in gross sensual pleasures, but absolution with the\nnecessary dispositions has restored him to the paths of\nrighteousness; the other has always lived in innocence and in the\nclosest union with God, but slight imperfections deprive him for\na time of the beatific vision. Shall it be said that the manner\nof purifying these two souls is the same, and that their\npurgatory only differs in point of duration? It does not seem\nprobable. We do not use the same means for removing a stain from\na garment that we should for a particle of dust on a polished\nmirror.\n\nThis explanation will better enable us to understand St.\nCatharine's treatise. Most Christians believe there are sensible\npains in purgatory. It is the view commonly taken of that state\nby our preachers. Our saint does not contradict this opinion. She\nspeaks of a special purification for certain souls, but without\nexcluding any. The soul in question in her treatise is a diamond\nalready cut with wonderful exactness, and from which the Divine\nArtist is removing the last stain before placing it among his\nchoicest jewels.\n\n{268}\n\nFaber says there are two views of purgatory prevailing among\nChristians, indicative of the peculiar tone of the mind of those\nwho have embraced them.\n\nOne is, that it is a place of sensible torture, where the least\npain is greater than all the pains of earth put together--an\nintolerable prison-house, full of wailing and horror; visited by\nangels, indeed, but only as the instruments of God's awful\njustice. The spirit of this view is a horror of offending\nAlmighty God, a habitual trembling before his judgments, and a\ngreat desire for bodily austerities.\n\nThe second view does not deny any of these features, but it gives\nmore prominence to other considerations. \"The spirit of this view\nis love, an extreme desire that God should not be offended, and a\nyearning for the interests of Jesus.\" It is not so much a\nquestion of selfish consideration with the soul, as of God's will\nand glory. \"Its sweet prison, its holy sepulchre, is in the\nadorable will of its Heavenly Father, and there it abides the\nterm of its purification with the most perfect contentment and\nthe most unutterable love.\"\n\nIn short, this second view is that of St. Catharine of Genoa,\nwhich comes home to our hearts, as we read her treatise, with\njoyful conviction--giving new conceptions of that holy realm of\npain.\n\nThis treatise is not the production of human vanity. St.\nCatharine only wrote by the express wish of her spiritual\ndirector, who fathomed her genius and knew her familiarity with\nthe secrets of the Most High. It is, in the estimation of judges\nof the highest authority, one of the most astonishing and\nadmirable productions of mystical theology, says M. de Bussierre.\nAnd it has been approved of by the Holy See, and by the Sacred\nCongregation of Rites.\n\nIt was one of the favorite books of St. Francis de Sales, with\nwhose spirit it is so greatly in harmony, and he calls the\nauthoress a seraph.\n\nAnd Faber styles her, \"The Great Doctress of Purgatory.\"\n\nSt. Catharine was contemporary with Christopher Columbus, being\nborn a few years later in the same city. And she was the\ngrand-niece of Pope Innocent IV., who first gave,\nauthoritatively, the name of Purgatory to the Intermediate State,\nand who was, like her, of the noble house of the Fieschi.\n\nThe French author so often quoted says: \"There are many\nexpressions in this work to which a forced meaning is not to be\ngiven. St. Catharine represents a soul as strictly united to God\nas it can be without being absorbed in the divinity. But she does\nnot annihilate individuality. She does not teach pantheism. She\nonly expresses the doctrine of St. Paul, '_In ipso vivimus, et\nmovemur, et sumus:_' 'In him we live, and we move, and we\nare.'\"\n\nHow she makes us long for that union, and welcome all that\nhastens it! We would join with all our earth-worn heart in that\n\"liturgy of hallowed pain.\" \"O world!\" we cry with Faber--\"O\nweary, clamorous, sinful world! who would not break away, if he\ncould, like an uncaged dove, from thy perilous toils and unsafe\npilgrimage, and fly with joy to the lowest place in that most\npure, most safe, most holy land of suffering and of sinless\nlove?\"\n\n(Hector Vernaccia, who first published the works of St. Catharine\nof Genoa, wrote the following preface to her _Treatise on\nPurgatory:_)\n\n{269}\n\n\"The soul of Catharine, still clad in the flesh, was plunged in\nthe furnace of God's ardent love, which consumed and purified her\nfrom every imperfection, so that at the end of her life she was\nfitted to pass at once into the presence of God, the only object\nof her affection. This interior fire made her comprehend that the\nsouls in purgatory are placed there to be purified from the rust\nand stain of the sins which they had not expiated on earth.\nSwallowed up in this divine and purging fire, she acquiesced in\nthe will of God, rejoicing in all his love wrought in her; she\nclearly understood what must be the state of the souls in\npurgatory, and thus wrote thereof:\"\n\n\n Chapter I.\n\n State Of The Souls In Purgatory--\n They Are Divested Of All Self-love.\n\nThe souls which are confined in purgatory, as it is given me to\nunderstand, can wish for no other dwelling-place than that\nwherein God hath justly placed them.\n\nThey have no longer the power of reviewing their past lives. Nor\ncan they say: \"I deserve to remain here for such and such sins.\nWould that I had not committed them! Then should I be\nparticipating in the joys of heaven.\" Neither can they compare\nthe duration of their punishment with that of others. They have\nneither in good nor evil any remembrance which aggravates their\npains, not even respecting others; but they feel a great\nsatisfaction in being at the disposal of God, who doeth all that\nseemeth to him good, and as it pleaseth him, so that in their\ngreatest sufferings they cannot think of themselves. They regard\nonly the goodness of God, whose infinite mercy would draw all men\nto himself. They anticipate neither the pain nor the solace that\nmay be their portion: if they could, they would not be in a state\nof pure love.\n\nNor do they see that they are suffering in punishment of their\nsins. They cannot retain such a view in their minds, for that\nwould be an active imperfection, and impossible in a place where\nthere is no actual sin.\n\nOnly once, at the moment of quitting this world, do they see the\ncause of purgatory which they have in themselves, but never\nafterward, or there would be some selfish consideration. Being in\na state of pure love, from which they cannot deviate by actual\nfault, they can only will and desire what is conformable to that\npure love. For in the flames of purgatory they are under the\ndivine ordinance and will; that is to say, in that state of pure\ncharity from which they can no longer be separated by any cause\nwhatever, because it is as impossible for them to commit actual\nsin as it is to acquire actual merit.\n\n\n Chapter II.\n\n Of The Joy Of The Souls In Purgatory--\n Comparison Which Shows How These\n Souls Behold God More And More Clearly--\n Difficulty Of Describing This State.\n\nI do not believe that there can be any peace comparable to that\nfelt by the souls in purgatory, unless that of the saints in\nparadise. And each day this peace increases by the influence\nwhich God exercises over the soul. It increases in proportion as\nthe impediment to that influence is consumed.\n\n{270}\n\nThis impediment is nothing else than the rust of sin. The fire\nconsuming the rust, the soul is more and more exposed to the\ndivine influence. An object which is covered cannot correspond to\nthe reverberation of the sun's rays; not by any fault of the sun,\nwhich ceases not to shine, but because of the covering on the\nobject. If that be consumed, the object beneath is laid open to\nthe sun; and the more completely the covering is consumed, the\nmore perfect the reverberation.\n\nSo the fire of purgatory wears away the rust of sin which covers\nthe soul, exposing it to God--the true sun--in proportion to its\npurity, and, in the same proportion, increasing its peace. So\nthat its happiness goes on increasing and the rust wearing away\ntill the time be fully accomplished.\n\nThe pain which results from the desire of beholding God does not\ndiminish, but the time of its duration does. As to their will,\nthese souls can never say their pains _are_ pains, so\nsatisfied are they with the will of God, with which their will is\nunited in purest love.\n\nOn the other hand, nevertheless, they endure a torment so extreme\nthat no tongue can depict it--no understanding grasp the least\ncomprehension of it, unless by a special grace from God. He has\ngiven me some idea of it, but I cannot well express it. What the\nLord has revealed to me has always remained imprinted on my mind.\nI will relate what I can of it. They will understand me to whom\nGod giveth the intelligence.\n\n\n Chapter III.\n\n Separation From God The Greatest Torment Of Purgatory--\n Wherein Purgatory Differs From Hell.\n\nAll pain is the consequence of original or actual sin. God\ncreated the soul perfectly pure, and gave it a certain instinct\nfor happiness which forces it toward him as its true centre.\n\nOriginal sin enfeebles this instinct in the soul at the\nbeginning. Actual sin diminishes it still more. The more this\ninstinct diminishes the worse the soul becomes, because God's\ngrace to the soul is withdrawn in proportion.\n\nAll goodness is only by participation in the goodness of God,\nwhich is constantly communicated, even to those creatures which\nare deprived of reason, according to his will and ordinance. As\nto the soul endowed with reason, he communicates his grace to it\nin proportion as he finds it freed from the obstacle of sin.\nConsequently, when a guilty soul recovers in a measure its\nprimitive purity, its instinct for happiness also returns and\nincreases with such impetuosity and so great an ardor of love,\ndrawing it to its chief end, that every obstacle becomes to it an\ninsupportable torment. And the more clearly it sees what detains\nit from union with God, the more excessive is its pain.\n\nBut the souls in purgatory being freed from the guilt of sin,\nthere is no other impediment between God and them but this pain\nwhich prevents the complete satisfaction of their instinct for\nhappiness; and they see in the clearest manner that the least\nimpediment delays this satisfaction by a necessity of justice:\nthence springs up a devouring fire, like to that of hell,\nexcepting the guilt.\n\nThis guilt constitutes the malignant will of the damned, which\nobliges God to withhold his goodness from them; so they remain in\na fixed state of despair and malignity, with a will wholly\nopposed to the divine will.\n\n{271}\n\n Chapter IV.\n\n State Of The Soul In Hell--\n Difference Between It And That Of The Soul In Purgatory--\n Reflections Upon Those Who Neglect The Affairs Of Salvation.\n\nIt is, then, clear that the perverse will of man in revolt\nagainst the will of God constitutes sin, and that the guilt of\nsin cannot be effaced from the soul while it is under the\ndominion of that evil will.\n\nNow, the souls in hell departed this life with a perverse will;\nconsequently, their guilt has not been washed away, and now\ncannot be, because death has rendered their will unchangeable.\nThe soul is for ever fixed in a state of good or evil, according\nto the disposition of the will at the moment of death. Wherefore\nit is written: _Ubi te invenero_, that is to say, Wherever I\nfind thee at the hour of death--with a will to sin or to repent\nof sin--_ibi te judicabo_, there will I judge thee; and from\nthis judgment there is no appeal, because, all freedom of choice\nceasing with life, the soul must remain unalterably fixed in the\nstate in which death finds it.\n\nThe souls in hell are guilty to an infinite degree, being found\nwith a sinful will at the moment of death. Their pain is not so\ngreat as they merit, but it will never end.\n\nAs for the souls in purgatory, they only endure pain. Guilt was\neffaced before death by a true sorrow for having offended the\ndivine goodness. This pain is finite, and the time of its\nduration is constantly diminishing.\n\nO misery transcending all other woes, and so much the greater\nbecause the blindness of man takes no precaution against it!\n\nThe torments of the damned, we have said, are not infinite in\ntheir rigor. The great goodness of God extends a ray of mercy\neven to hell. A man expiring in a state of deadly sin merits a\npunishment infinite in duration and in intensity. God, in his\njustice, could have inflicted on the damned torments far greater\nthan they have to endure; but while he has rendered them infinite\nas to their duration, he has limited their intensity.\n\nOh! how dangerous is voluntary sin; for repentance is difficult,\nand, unrepented of, the guilt of sin remains, and will remain as\nlong as man retains his affection for past sins or has the will\nto commit them anew.\n\n\n Chapter V.\n\n Of The Peace And Joy In Purgatory.\n\nThe souls in purgatory, being entirely freed from the guilt of\nsin, and thus far restored to their original purity, and their\nvolition being entirely conformed to that of God, they are\nconstantly participating in his goodness.\n\nTheir guilt is remitted because, before departing this life, they\nrepented of their sins and confessed them with a firm purpose not\nto commit any more. They retain, then, only the rust of sin which\nis worn away by those penal fires.\n\nBeing thus cleansed from all sin and united to God by their will,\nthey contemplate him clearly according to the degree of light\nwhich is given them. They comprehend how important it is that\nthey should enjoy God, the end for which they were created. They\nfeel so united to him by entire conformity of will, and are\nattracted so powerfully toward him by a natural instinct, that I\nfind no comparison, or examples, or way by which I can express\nthis impetuosity as I understand it. Nevertheless, I will give a\ncomparison which has been suggested to my mind.\n\n{272}\n\n Chapter VI.\n\n Comparison Illustrating The Ardent Love With Which The Souls\n In Purgatory Long For Union With God.\n\n\nIf in all the world there were but one loaf, the mere sight of\nwhich would satiate the hunger of all creatures, what would be\nthe feelings of a man, with a natural instinct to eat when he is\nin health, if he were neither able to eat, nor yet to be ill or\nto die? His hunger would always be increasing with its\nundiminished instinct, and, knowing that he could be satiated by\nthe very sight of this loaf of which he is deprived, he remains\nin unbearable torments. The nearer he approaches it, the more\nravenous is his hunger, which draws him toward this food, the\nobject of his desire.\n\nIf he were sure of never beholding this bread, he would endure a\nkind of hell, like that of the eternally lost, who are deprived\nof the Bread of Life and of the hope of ever beholding Christ our\nRedeemer.\n\nThe souls in purgatory, on the contrary, hope to behold this\nbread and to eat their fill thereof; but meanwhile they suffer\nthe torments of a cruel hunger after it--that is to say, after\nJesus Christ, the God of our salvation and our love.\n\n\n Chapter VII.\n\n Of The Wonderful Wisdom Of God In\n The Creation Of Purgatory And Hell.\n\nAs the purified soul finds its repose only in God, for whom it\nwas created, so the soul defiled by sin has no other place but\nhell assigned it for its destination.\n\nThe soul, at the moment of its separation from the body,\nnaturally gravitates toward its true centre. If in a state of\ndeadly sin, it goes to its appointed place, carried there by the\nvery nature of sin. If it did not find this place provided for it\nby divine justice, it would remain in a worse hell; for it would\nno longer be under the ordinance of God, still participating in\nhis mercy, and where the pain is less than the soul merits.\n\nNot finding, then, any place better suited to it, or less fearful\nthan hell, by divine appointment it gees thither as to its own\nplace.\n\nIt is the same with purgatory. The soul, separated from the body,\nnot finding in itself all its primitive purity, and seeing that\nthis impediment to its union with God can only be removed by\nmeans of purgatory, voluntarily throws itself therein. If the\nplace prepared for the removal of this impediment did not exist,\nthere would instantaneously be generated in the soul a torture\nfar worse than purgatory, for it would comprehend that this\nimpediment would hinder it from union with God, its aim and its\nend.\n\nThis end is so ardently longed for, that the torments of\npurgatory seem as nothing, although, as we have said, they are\nlike those of hell in some respects. But, I repeat, they seem as\nnothing compared with the soul's true end.\n\n{273}\n\n Chapter VIII.\n\n Of The Necessity Of Purgatory And\n The Terrible Nature Of Its Torments.\n\nFurthermore I will say: the gates of heaven, through the goodness\nof God, are closed against no one. Whoever wishes can enter, for\nthe Lord is full of mercy, and his arms are constantly extended\nto receive us into glory.\n\nBut I see also that this divine essence is of such purity,\nsurpassing all we can imagine, that the soul which perceives in\nitself the slightest mote of imperfection would cast itself into\na thousand hells rather than remain with a single stain in the\npresence of infinite Majesty.\n\nTherefore, seeing purgatory ordained for the removal of these\nstains, the soul plunges into it, esteeming it a provision of\nwonderful mercy by which it can be freed from the impediment it\nfinds in itself.\n\nNo tongue can express, no mind conceive, the nature of purgatory.\nAs to the severity of its torments, they equal those of hell.\n[Footnote 120] Nevertheless, the soul with the slightest stain\nendures them as a merciful dispensation, regarding them as\nnothing in comparison with what opposes their union with God.\n\n [Footnote 120: Except that the souls in purgatory are not\n separated from the love and will of God, and have hope.]\n\nI seem to understand that the sorrow of the souls in purgatory\nfor having in themselves the cause of God's displeasure,\nresulting from their past offences against his great goodness--I\nseem to understand, I say, that this sorrow surpasses all the\nother torments which they endure in this place of purification.\nBeing in a state of grace, they comprehend the force and\nseriousness of the obstacle which hinders their union with God.\n\n\n Chapter IX.\n\n The Mutual Love Of God And The Souls In Purgatory--\n Difficulty Of Finding Expressions On This Subject.\n\n\nEverything which has been revealed to me upon this subject, and\nwhich I have comprehended according to the capacity of my mind,\nis of so much importance that, compared therewith, all the\nknowledge, all the sayings, all the opinions, all the reason, and\nall the wisdom of man in this life seem as vain trifles and as\nthings of no account. I acknowledge, to my confusion, that I can\nfind no other words to express my meaning.\n\nI perceive so great a conformity between God and the soul in\npurgatory that, in order to restore the latter to its original\npurity, God inspires in the soul an ardent love which draws it\ntoward him--a love forcible enough to annihilate it, were it not\nimmortal. It transforms it to such a degree that the soul beholds\nnothing but God, who draws and inflames it continually, without\never abandoning it, till he has brought it back to the source\nwhence it issued, that is to say, to the perfect purity in which\nit was created.\n\nAnd when the soul, interiorly enlightened, feels itself thus\nattracted by the fire of God's great love, it melts completely in\nits ardor. It sees, by a supernatural light, that God never\nceases to lead it on, with constant providential care, to its\nentire perfection; it sees that God is prompted only by pure\nlove, and that the soul, impeded by the effects of sin, can only\nfollow the divine impulse, that is to say, that attraction which\ndraws it toward God; it comprehends also the greatness of the\nobstacle which hinders its admission to the presence of the\ndivine light; finally, it is drawn by that powerful instinct\nwhich would have nothing hinder it from yielding to the divine\nattraction: it sees and feels all these things, I say, and\ntherein is the source of the soul's torments in purgatory.\n\n{274}\n\nBut it does not regard its pain, however great: it regards\ninfinitely more the obstacle the will of God finds in it, that\nwill which it clearly sees is full of the purest and most ardent\nlove for it.\n\nThis love and this unitive attraction act so continually and so\npowerfully upon the soul, that if it could find another purgatory\nmore terrible than this, in which it could be sooner delivered\nfrom all that separates it from the Sovereign Good, it would\nspeedily plunge therein, through the impetuosity of the love it\nbears to God.\n\n Chapter X.\n\n How God Purifies The Soul In Purgatory--\n The Soul Acquires Therein\n Such Perfect Purity That Were It\n To Remain There After Its Purification\n It Would Suffer No More.\n\nI behold, also, the ardent rays of divine love toward the souls\nof men penetrating and potent enough to destroy, not only the\nbody, but the soul even, if that were possible.\n\nThese rays produce two effects: they purify, and they annihilate.\n\nLook at gold: the more you melt it the purer it becomes, and you\ncould go on refining it till every impurity is destroyed. Such is\nthe effect of fire upon material things. Though the soul cannot\nannihilate itself in God, it can in its own self; and the more it\nis purified, the more completely is it annihilated in itself,\ntill at last it rests quite pure in God.\n\nIt is said that gold, when it is purified to a certain degree, no\nlonger diminishes, whatever degree of heat it may be exposed to,\nbecause nothing but the dross can be consumed. The divine fire\nacts in like manner upon the soul. God holds it in the fire till\nevery imperfection is consumed. He thus reduces all souls to a\nstate of purity, each one according to its own degree of\nperfection.\n\nAnd when the soul is thus purified it rests altogether in God,\nwithout retaining anything in itself. It has its being then in\nGod. And when he has brought the soul to himself, thus purified,\nit becomes impassible, for there is nothing left in it to be\nconsumed. And should it still remain in the fire after being thus\npurified, it would suffer no longer. That fire would be to it a\nflame of divine love itself eternal life, in which the soul could\nexperience no more contradictions.\n\n\n Chapter XI.\n\n The Souls In Purgatory Desire To\n Purified From Every Stain Of Sin--\n Of The Wisdom Of God In Immediately\n Concealing From These Souls Their Faults.--\n\nThe soul was originally endowed with all the means of attaining\nits own degree of perfection, by living in conformity with the\nlaws of God and keeping itself pure from all stain of sin. But,\nbeing contaminated by original sin, it loses its gifts and\ngraces. It dies, and can only rise again by the assistance of\nGod. And when he has raised it to life again by baptism, a bad\ninclination still remains in the soul, leading it, if unresisted,\nto actual sin, by which it dies anew. God raises it again by\nanother special grace; nevertheless it remains so soiled, so\nfallen back upon itself, that, to be restored to the state of\npurity in which God created it, it has need of all the divine\noperations before mentioned to enable it to return to its\nprimitive condition.\n\nWhen the soul is on its way back to this state, its desire of\nbeing lost in God is so great as to become the purgatory of the\nsoul.\n\nPurgatory is nothing to it _as_ purgatory. The burning\ninstinct which forces it toward God, only to find an impediment,\nconstitutes its real torture.\n\n{275}\n\nBy a last act of love, God, the author of this plan for the\nperfection of the soul, works without the concurrence of man; for\nthere are in the soul so many hidden imperfections that if it saw\nthem it would be in despair. But the state of which we have just\nspoken destroys them all. It is only when they are obliterated\nthat God shows them to the soul, in order that it may comprehend\nthe divine operation wrought by this fire of love consuming all\nits imperfections.\n\n\n\n Chapter XII.\n\n How Joyfully Suffering Is Endured In Purgatory.\n\nRemember that what man considers perfect in itself, is full of\ndefects in the eyes of God. Everything man does which has the\nappearance of perfection from the point of view in which he sees\nit, or feels, understands, wills, or recalls it, is soiled and\ninfected if he does not attribute it to God.\n\nOur deeds are perfect only when they are wrought by us, without\nconsidering ourselves the principal agents, and when they are\nreferred to God, we being only his instruments.\n\nSuch are precisely the final operations of pure love wrought by\nGod himself in the soul, without any merit on our part. These\noperations are so ardent and so penetrating in their effects upon\nthe soul, that it seems as though the body which envelops it\nwould be consumed as in a great fire where death alone could give\nrelief.\n\nIt is true that the love of God which fills the soul in purgatory\ninspires it, according to my comprehension, with a joy that\ncannot be expressed. But this satisfaction does not take away one\nparticle of the pain. Nay, it is the hindering of love from the\npossession of its object which causes the pain, and the pain is\nin proportion to the perfection of the love of which God has made\nthe soul capable.\n\nThus it is that the souls in purgatory at once enjoy the greatest\ntranquillity and endure the greatest pain; and the one in no way\nhinders the other.\n\n\n Chapter XIII.\n\n No Merit Is Acquired In Purgatory--\n In What Manner The Souls In Purgatory Regard The\n Suffrages Made In Their Behalf On Earth.\n\nIf the stains of the souls in purgatory could be effaced by\ncontrition, the divine justice might in an instant be satisfied,\nso profound and ardent is their sorrow in view of the great\nobstacle which opposes their union with God, their chief end and\ntheir love.\n\nBut, remember, God has decreed that the last farthing is to be\ndemanded of these souls for the satisfaction of eternal justice.\nAs to them, they have no choice; they can now see and wish only\nwhat God wishes. This is the unalterable state of their souls.\n\nIf some spiritual alms are given on earth to abridge the time of\ntheir sufferings, they cannot regard them with affection, only as\nthey are weighed in the equitable scales of the divine will,\nleaving God to act according to his own pleasure, and to pay\nhimself and his justice in the way his own infinite goodness\nchooses to select.\n\n{276}\n\nIf it were possible for them to regard these alms apart from the\ngood pleasure of God, they would be guilty of an act of\nappropriation which would deprive them of the knowledge of the\ndivine will, and thus making their abode a hell.\n\nThus they receive every appointment of God with tranquillity, and\nneither joy, nor satisfaction, nor sufferings can ever induce\nthem to fall back upon themselves.\n\n\n Chapter XIV.\n\n Of The Submission Of The Souls In\n Purgatory To The Will Of God.\n\nThese souls are so perfectly conformed to the will of God that\nthey are always satisfied with his holy decrees.\n\nIf a soul were admitted to the vision of God, having still\nsomething left to be cleansed away, it would consider itself\ngrievously injured and its sufferings worse than many\npurgatories, for it would be unable to endure that excessive\ngoodness and that perfect justice.\n\nWhat an incongruity it would be in the sight of God, as well as\nof the soul, for his justice not to be entirely satisfied! If\nthis soul lacked a single moment of expiation, it would feel an\ninsupportable torture, and would plunge into a thousand hells to\nremove this little rust rather than remain in the presence of God\nwithout being entirely purified.\n\n\n Chapter XV.\n\n A Warning To People Of The World.\n\nWould that I could cry loud enough to frighten all the men who\ndwell upon the face of the earth, and say to them: O miserable\nmen! why do you suffer yourselves to be so blinded by the world\nas not to make any provision for that imperious necessity in\nwhich you will find yourselves at the moment of death?\n\nYou all shelter yourselves under the hope of God's mercy, which\nyou call so infinite. But do you not see that it is precisely\nthis great goodness of God which will rise up in judgment against\nyou, miserable men, for rebelling against the will of so good a\nLord?\n\nHis goodness should incite you to the full accomplishment of his\nwill, instead of encouraging you to sin with impunity; for, be\nfully assured, his justice can never fail, and it must, in some\nway, be entirely satisfied.\n\nDo not reassure yourself by saying: I will confess all my sins, I\nwill gain a plenary indulgence, and thus I shall be cleansed at\nonce from all my iniquities; and so I shall be saved. Remember\nthat contrition and confession are necessary to gain a plenary\nindulgence. And perfect contrition is so difficult to acquire\nthat, if you knew how difficult it is, you would tremble for very\nfear, and would be much more certain of not gaining the\nindulgence than of obtaining such a grace.\n\n\n Chapter XVI.\n\n In Which It Is Shown That The Torments\n Of Purgatory Do Not Affect The Peace And\n Joy Of The Souls Therein Detained.\n\nI see that the souls suffering in purgatory are conscious of two\noperations of divine grace in them.\n\nBy the first of these operations they willingly endure their\nsufferings. Considering, on the one hand, what they have merited,\nand, on the other, the incomprehensible majesty of an offended\nGod, they understand the extent of his mercy toward them. For a\nsingle sin merits a thousand hells eternal in duration; but the\ngoodness of God tempers justice with mercy in accepting the\nprecious blood of Jesus Christ in satisfaction for sin. So that\nthese souls endure their torments so willingly that they would\nnot have them diminish one iota. They see how fully they are\nmerited, and how righteously they are ordained: and as to their\nwill, it no more revolts against that of God than if they were\nparticipating in the joys of eternal life.\n\n{277}\n\nThe second operation of grace in these souls consists in the\npeace with which they are filled in view of the divine\nordinances, and the love and mercy of God manifested in their\nbehalf.\n\nThe knowledge of these two operations is imprinted by God on\nthese souls in an instant, and, as they are in a state of grace,\nthey comprehend them, every one according to his capacity. They\nfeel a great joy, which, far from diminishing, goes on increasing\nin proportion as the time for their union with God approaches.\n\nThese souls do not view these things in themselves or as\nbelonging to themselves; they view them in God, with whom they\nare far more occupied than with their own torments. For the least\nglimpse man has of God transcends every pain and every imaginable\njoy.\n\nNevertheless, their excessive joy does not in the least detract\nfrom their pain, nor their extreme pain in the least from their\njoy.\n\n\n Chapter XVII.\n\n In Which St. Catharine Applies What\n She Has Written Of The Souls In\n Purgatory To What She Has Felt\n And Experienced In Her Own Soul.\n\nMy own soul has experienced the same state of purification as\nthat of the souls in purgatory--especially within two years--and\neach day I see and feel this more clearly. My soul remains in the\nbody as in a purgatory, but only in such a degree of suffering as\nthe body can endure without dying. And this suffering will go on\nincreasing by degrees till the body is no longer able to support\nit, and will really die.\n\nMy mind has become unused to all things, even spiritual, which\ncould refresh it, such as joy, pleasure, or consolation. It is no\nlonger able, by will, understanding, or memory, to relish\nanything, whether of a temporal or spiritual nature, so that I\ncan say one thing pleases me more than another.\n\nMy soul has been so besieged, as it were, that by degrees it has\nbeen deprived of all that could refresh me spiritually or\ncorporally. Even this privation makes me feel the power these\nthings have of nourishing and refreshing me; but the soul,\nconscious of this power, loathes and abhors them to such a degree\nthat they have ceased for ever to tempt me.\n\nFor it is an instinct of the soul to strive to overcome every\nobstacle to its perfection--an instinct so cruelly exacting that\nit would, as it were, allow itself to be cast into hell to\nachieve its object. It goes on then depriving itself of\neverything in which the inner man can delight, and this with so\nmuch subtlety that the slightest imperfection is noted and\ndetested.\n\nThe outer man, being no longer sustained by the consolations of\nthe soul, suffers to such a degree that, humanly speaking, it can\nfind nothing on earth to sustain it. There remains for it no\nother consolation than God, who ordereth all these things in\ninfinite mercy and love, for the satisfaction of his justice.\nThis view inspires me with great peace and joy, which,\nnevertheless, do net diminish the violence of my sufferings; but\nno pain could be severe enough to induce me to deviate in the\nleast from the order of things established by God.\n{278}\nNor would I leave this prison till the Lord hath accomplished his\ndesigns upon me. My peace consists in satisfying the justice of\nGod, and I could find no torment greater than in deviating from\nhis ordinance, so perfectly just and good does it seem to me.\n\nI see--I feel, as it were--all the things I have here related;\nbut I find no words to express my meaning suitably as to what I\nhave here written. I have felt its operation in my own soul,\nwhich has given me the necessary knowledge for writing about it.\n\nThe prison in which I seem to be is the world; the chain that\nbinds me therein is the body. And the soul, illuminated by grace,\nrecognizes the importance of the obstacles which hinder it from\nattaining its true end. This causes great grief to the soul, on\naccount of its extreme sensibility. Nevertheless, it receives,\nthrough the pure grace of God, a certain impress of dignity,\nwhich not only assimilates it to God, but renders it in a manner\none with him by a participation of his goodness. And, as it is\nimpossible for God to suffer, so the soul which lives in union\nwith him becomes impassible, and the more complete this union the\nmore it shares in the divine attributes.\n\nBut the delay of this union causes an intolerable suffering in\nthe soul. And this suffering and this delay make it different\nfrom what it was at its creation. God, by his grace, makes known\nto it its original condition. Without the power of returning to\nit, and yet feeling itself adapted to that condition, it remains\nin a state of suffering proportionate to its love for God. This\nlove increases with the soul's knowledge of God, and its\nknowledge increases in the same ratio as the soul is purified\nfrom sin. Thus this delay becomes more and more intolerable,\nbecause the soul, entirely absorbed in God, has nothing more to\nhinder it from truly knowing him.\n\nThe man who prefers to suffer death rather than offend God is not\nthe less fully alive to its pangs, but the divine grace inspires\nhim with a fervor which makes him think more of the honor of God\nthan the life of the body. It is the same with the soul that\nknows the will of God. It regards that as of infinitely more\nimportance than all interior or exterior sufferings whatever,\nhowever terrible they may be; for the Lord who worketh in it\nsurpasses all that can be felt or imagined. The result is that\nthe slightest hold of God upon the soul keeps it so united to his\nsupreme will that everything else is esteemed as nothing. The\nsoul thus loses all consideration of self. It becomes so\nregardless of pain that it does not speak of it or even feel it.\nIt is conscious of its real condition for one moment only--as has\nbeen said before--when passing from this life to the next.\n\nI will only add, in conclusion: let us become thoroughly\nimpressed with the fact that God, at once good and powerful, has\ncreated purgatory for the purification of man, wherein is\nconsumed and annihilated all that he is by nature.\n\n ----------\n\n{279}\n\n The Charities of New York.\n\nIf we recur again to a subject on which we have two or three\ntimes already addressed the readers of _The Catholic World_,\nit is because we are so deeply impressed with its importance, and\nbecause we are persuaded that in any matter which so highly\nconcerns the Catholic cause all our friends must be heartily\ninterested. The generosity of Catholics toward their church is\nalmost proverbial. They give more to religion than any other\ndenomination; they give more liberally in proportion to their\nmeans; and they give spontaneously. And nowhere is their\ngenerosity more strikingly shown than in the great cities of\nAmerica, where they have built so many scores of costly churches,\nand raised up convents and orphan asylums, and where they have\ngiven almost every parish its free school, though the law has\ncompelled them likewise to pay taxes for the support of\ncommon-schools to which they cannot in conscience entrust their\nchildren. Here, in New York City, we have had a particularly\nheavy task to perform. As this is the landing-place of most of\nthe Catholic immigrants, besides being the chief city and\nbusiness centre of the country, the growth of the Catholic\npopulation has been especially rapid, and it has grown in\nprincipal measure by the influx of the poorer classes, who, while\nthey stand in greatest need of the help of the Church, are able\nto do least for its support. It is a notorious fact that, while a\nlarge proportion of the more thrifty immigrants move out to the\nWest, and help to build up Catholicism in our new States and\nterritories, the destitute and shiftless almost invariably remain\nin the large cities. Hence, the growth in the material resources\nof the Church in New York does not keep pace with the growth in\nits numbers. The well-to-do immigrants who have settled here, and\nthe American-born Catholics, children of the last generation of\nsettlers, or else converts from Protestantism, have a task of\npeculiar difficulty, as they must provide not only for the\nnatural increase in their own numbers, but for the spiritual\nwants of their poorer brethren, who have no means of providing\nfor themselves. And it is a task which seems to grow harder and\nharder every year. The congregations increase much faster than\nthe churches. Children multiply faster than the schools. With all\nthe unremitting labors of our successive bishops and archbishops,\nand all the untiring exertions of our zealous priests, there are\nnot yet churches enough in New York City.\n\nWe must remember this peculiar condition of our Church when we\nundertake to compare Catholic with Protestant charities. The\nnoblest work of benevolence is that which assists our neighbor to\nsave his soul; and Catholics understand perfectly well that they\ncan make no better disposition of their alms than in contributing\nto supply the poor with opportunities of hearing Mass, receiving\nthe sacraments, and learning the principles and precepts of their\nfaith. Hence, their liberality has been directed first toward the\nbuilding of churches and the education of priests, and next\ntoward the support of Catholic schools.\n{280}\nWhile there was so much to be done in these directions, they felt\ncomparatively little disposition to spare either money or\nattention in feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, or nursing\nthe sick. Of these corporal works of mercy they have, indeed,\ndone much in proportion to their means; but they have, very\nrightly, thought more of feeding the hungry soul than the hungry\nstomach, more of curing the sick heart than the wounded body.\n\nWhile Catholics have thus been so much occupied in looking after\nthe things of God, that they have been unable to devote more than\nan ordinary amount of care to the physical wants of God's\nunfortunate children, the case with Protestants has been very\ndifferent. They are in no want of churches; they have more\nalready than they know how to fill. They need no free-schools,\nfor the State system of education satisfies all their\nrequirements. They have abundant wealth, and are willing to\ndevote a share of it to benevolent purposes. In the majority of\ncases we believe that they give to such enterprises out of the\nbest religious motives; for we have no patience with the\nnarrowness of mind which suspects the disinterestedness of all\nProtestant charity, and seems to imagine that no man who is so\nunfortunate as to be a heretic can possibly do a good deed from a\ngood impulse. Many Protestant benevolent institutions are\nmaintained, no doubt, for the purpose of bribing poor destitute\nCatholics to abandon their faith; but all are not. Protestants\nare doing a great deal in the way of genuine beneficence; and it\nis more becoming, as well as more politic, for us to frankly\nrecognize and imitate whatever praiseworthy actions they perform,\nthan to inquire too closely and suspiciously into their ulterior\nmotives.\n\nA book which has recently been published in New York puts us in a\nposition to compare, with very little trouble, the work\naccomplished by Protestants and Catholics in the way of organized\ncharity in this city. Its title is, _The Charities of New York,\nBrooklyn, and Staten Island_, by Henry J. Cammann and Hugh N.\nCamp. (Octavo, pp. 597. Hurd & Houghton.) The authors have had\nmuch to do with various institutions of benevolence--principally,\nwe believe, with those connected with the Protestant Episcopal\ndenomination; and their purpose in preparing this volume was to\ngive a brief history and description of all the organized private\ncharities of New York and its suburbs, partly to show what has\nbeen done for the relief of suffering humanity, and partly to\nguide alms-givers in making an intelligent disposition of their\nliberality. They seem to have performed their task with care and\nimpartiality, permitting each institution to speak for itself\nthrough one of its officers or special friends, or in an official\nreport, and making no attempt to compare the number and\nefficiency of the establishments of different faiths. A\nconscientious desire to be just toward Catholic, Protestant, and\nJew is apparent throughout. The record is not a complete one; but\nthe deficiency, we have reason to believe, is the consequence, in\nchief measure, of the neglect or unwillingness of the proper\npersons to furnish the requisite information. We have supplied\nthese omissions as far as possible, but the story is not yet told\nin full; though for purposes of comparison the table which we\ngive below is probably sufficient. We have added several\nimportant societies and institutions which are not included in\nthe book, namely, the New York Prison Association, St. Stephen's\nHome, St. Francis' German Hospital, the Society of St. Vincent de\nPaul, and some others; and we have omitted all which are\nsupported entirely, or almost entirely, by appropriations from\nthe city or State, such as Bellevue Hospital, the New York Blind\nAsylum, etc., as well as those which do not properly belong to\nNew York City.\n{281}\nThe figures represent the number of persons who have obtained aid\nof shelter from these various organizations during the past year.\nThe admirable Mission-House in St. James' parish has gone into\noperation since last year, and therefore cannot be included in\nthe table.\n\n CATHOLIC.\n\n1. St. Vincent's Hospital, 832\n2. St. Francis's German Hospital, 592\n3. St. Stephen's Home for Destitute Little Girls, 100\n4. St. Patrick's Male Orphan Asylum, 550\n5. St. Patrick's Female Orphan Asylum, 390\n6. St. Joseph's Orphan Asylum, 150\n7. St. Vincent's Orphan Asylum, 85\n8. House of the Good Shepherd, 500\n9. Institution of Mercy, 2845\n10. St. Vincent de Paul Society, [Footnote 121] ----\nTotal 6044\n\n [Footnote 121: Lack of information obliges us to leave several\n blanks in the above table, where figures should appear.]\n\n\n PROTESTANT AND JEWISH.\n\n 1. St. Luke's Hospital 1027\n 2. Society for the Relief of the Ruptured and Crippled, 1684\n 3. Women's Hospital, 189\n 4. German Hospital and Dispensary, ----\n 5. Eye and Ear Infirmary, 8038\n 6. Mount Sinai Hospital, 1028\n 7. Infirmary for Women and Children, 137\n 8. Nursery and Child's Hospital 572\n 9. Leake and Watts Orphan House, 100\n10. St. Luke's Home for Indigent Christian Females, 31\n11. American Female Guardian Society and Home for the Friendless, 5033\n12. P. E. House of Mercy, 112\n13. Orphan Asylum, 186\n14. Colored Orphan Asylum, 254\n15. Orphan Home and Asylum of the Protestant Episcopal Church, 158\n16. Society for the Relief of Half-Orphan and Destitute Children 230\n17. Hebrew Benevolent and Orphan Asylum Society 150\n18. Five Points House of Industry, 1000\n19. The Sheltering Arms, 157\n20. Children's Aid Society, 8192\n21. Five Points Mission ----\n22. Association for the Relief of\n Respectable Aged Indigent Females, 79\n23. Magdalen Society, 37\n24. Ladies' Union Aid Society, 65\n25. Colored Home 800\n26. Union Home and School for Children of\n Volunteer Soldiers and Sailors, 330\n27. Asylum for Lying-in Women, 395\n28. Women's Prison Association, 350\n29. New-York Prison Association ----\n30. Presbyterian Home for Aged Women, 22\n31. Society for the Relief of Poor Widows with small Children, ----\n32. Howard Mission and Home for Little Wanderers, 100\n33. Working-Women's Protective Union, ----\n34. Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor, ----\n35. The Home, in West-Houston street, 112\n36. Samaritan Home for the Aged, ----\n37. Protestant Episcopal City Mission, ----\n38. Working-Woman's Home, 120\n39. Ladies' Christian Union, 150\n40. House and School of Industry, 102\nTotal, 31,860\n\nThis is not a pleasing comparison. Out of fifty institutions here\nenumerated, only ten belong to us. Out of 37,904 persons annually\nrelieved by the fifty charities, our share is only 6044. The case\nis not so bad, however, as it appears on first inspection. Our\nSisters of Charity and Mercy perform an immense amount of\nbenevolent work outside of their own houses and asylums, nursing\nthe sick, consoling the afflicted, watching in public hospitals,\nfeeding the hungry, and visiting the prisoner; work which cannot\nbe measured by figures, because there is no record of it except\nin heaven. Benevolent labor of the kind to which our sisterhoods\ndevote themselves is undertaken by various of the non-Catholic\norganizations enumerated in the above table, and largely\nincreases their apparent predominance over our own\nestablishments, because they sum up in statistical form what is\ndone, and we do not. Then again, several of the charities set\ndown as Protestant are entirely unsectarian in their character,\nand we dare say draw a fair proportion of their support from\nCatholic sources. Not so bad as it seems, we say; yet surely bad\nenough.\n{282}\nPerhaps we ought not even to claim credit for what the\nsisterhoods do; for theirs are in reality labors of individual\nbenevolence, and the Catholic community at large shares little or\nnothing of the expense, the trouble, or the merit of them. The\nCatholics of New York are supposed to number four hundred\nthousand--nearly half the population of the city--and it is\nnotorious that they comprise a great deal more than half the\npauper population. Are we doing a fair proportion of the work of\ntaking care of our poor? Moreover, pauperism increases _ten\ntimes as fast_ as the whole population. The growth of the\nentire number of inhabitants in thirty-four years has been ninety\nper cent; the increase in the number of those receiving\ncharitable relief has been during the same period no less than\nnine hundred per cent. What provision are we making to meet the\nterrible responsibility which this state of society entails?\n\nWe can hardly question that the time has come when the physical\nwants of these unfortunate classes should awaken in us serious\nconsideration. We have done well to look so carefully after the\nbuilding of churches, and of course we must not relax our efforts\nor check our generosity in the slightest degree on account of\nthese additional calls upon us. We must work also for our schools\nas we have never worked before. Systems of education all around\nus are daily improving, and Catholic schools must not be left\nbehind. Perhaps it may be found possible to make some arrangement\nby which we can be relieved of the disadvantage under which we\nnow rest. Catholics and Protestants should have but one and the\nsame end in view in the education of the young; and we are not\nwithout hope that the love of fair play which belongs to the\nAmerican people will enable us in time to compose the old\nschool-quarrel, which has been such an injury to the community.\nHow this may be done, it would lead us far from our present\nsubject to consider. We trust it will be done some day, but\nmeanwhile our church schools have a right to the most generous\nsupport. Churches and schools must come first; but when we have\ngiven them all they need, we are not to stop there. Protestants\nare fully awake to the danger which threatens the public welfare\nfrom this rapid increase of a destitute class, and are working\nhard to effect a reform. If we do not take care of our own poor,\nthey will not only provide for their physical wants, but will\nsoon acquire charge of their souls. Such institutions as the Five\nPoints Mission, the Howard Mission, the Children's Aid Society,\nthe Association for Improving the Condition of the Poor, however\nhonestly they may be conducted, are powerful engines of\nproselytism. Their managers may be actuated by the most\ndisinterested benevolence, they may use none but legitimate means\nof influence; but is it any wonder that they draw many Catholics,\nespecially children, away from the faith, when we let them have\nthe field so completely to themselves? Against the Association\nfor Improving the Condition of the Poor, we can set off, indeed,\nour noble Society of St. Vincent de Paul, though its resources\nare far smaller than they should be; but to take the place of the\nthree other important charities mentioned above, we Catholics can\nshow little or nothing.\n\nFirst, we ought to look after the children. The adult sick and\nsuffering are in less spiritual danger; for in most of the\nhospitals, except those of a strictly denominational character,\nthey can enjoy the visits of priests and sisters. For the\ndestitute who are strong enough to work we can offer no better\nresource than that which the Citizens' Association is now\nstriving to afford in the organization of a Labor Bureau, by\nwhich the superfluous hands of the city may be distributed among\nthe farming regions, where labor is badly needed.\n{283}\nSectarianism appears to have nothing to do with this enterprise,\nand it offers relief in the best possible way, by enabling the\npoor not to eat the bread of idleness, but to earn an honest\nliving. For the aged and friendless, who are past work and have\nno provision for the sunset of life, we still have no asylums;\nbut their claims must be postponed until those of the children\nare satisfied. We are told that our city contains no fewer than\n40,000 vagrant and destitute children. What a fearful seed of\ncrime and misery this sad multitude constitutes, growing up in\nevery kind of ignorance and vice, and ripening for the prisons!\nWhat are we doing for them? We have orphan asylums; but most of\nthese children are not orphans, and even if they were, the\nasylums have not room for a tithe of them. We have the\nProtectory, at Westchester; but that is only for young criminals,\nwho must be committed on a magistrate's warrant, and must,\nmoreover, be the children of Catholic parents. Now, thousands of\nthese young vagrants have never yet fallen within the grasp of\nthe law; thousands are the children of no faith whatever, and, if\nbrought before a justice, would have to be sent to the Protestant\ninstead of the Catholic asylum. And, even if all these children\ncould be brought under the control of our Protectory Association,\ntwenty such asylums as the excellent one at Westchester would not\nhold them. No! there is much for us yet to do; there are\nthousands of poor little children upon whom Catholic charity has\nnot yet laid a finger.\n\nWe spoke, in a former number of _The Catholic World_, of the\nnoble mission-school which the zeal and perseverance of one good\npriest has founded in St. James's parish in this city. If almost\nevery church in New York were able to build an institution of a\nsimilar kind, we might rest satisfied; but what is one\nmission-school among 40,000 children? What can one over-worked\nclergyman do toward performing a task which is the duty of the\nentire Catholic community? It is a sad and humiliating thing to\nconfess; but Protestants seem to appreciate the claim which these\nvagrant children have upon the public much better than we do. The\nProtestants are not idle: they have their Refuges, their\nIndustrial Schools, their \"Homes,\" their missionaries, right in\nthe heart of the vagabond population; they spare neither trouble\nnor money to catch these souls; and we are ashamed to say they\ncapture a great many who are rightfully our charges. If we let\nthis continue, will not God have a terrible account to exact of\nus some day?\n\nWe are gratified to know that what we have heretofore said on\nthis subject has not been without its effect. There are some good\nbrethren who seem to believe that it is the duty of all Catholic\nwriters to defend those of the faith from every aspersion, to\ncover up all their defects, to excuse all their wrong-doings, to\nhold them up as perfect models of the Christian life, and to\nignore or decry every good work undertaken by heretics. Such as\nthese were offended at the account we gave of the Howard Mission,\nand similar Protestant institutions. But others have listened to\nus in a more sensible frame of mind, have acknowledged the\njustice of our remarks, and have offered to contribute their\npurses whenever an effort is made to supply the want we have\nindicated. Made it will be and must be, before long. Now, who\nwill make it?\n\n{284}\n\nWe had written thus far, when we received an unexpected answer to\nour question in the following letter from a charitable Catholic\nlady:\n\n To The Editor Of _The Catholic World_:\n\n Rev. Father:\n The thought of doing something for the neglected children of\n New York prompts me to write to you. Since the moment that I\n read the letter that you published in _The Catholic\n World_, they have scarcely been out of my mind. I have\n offered up all my prayers and communions for them, and I have\n prayed especially for them every day. I had no thought that I\n could do anything else, but sometimes I think that, if all\n should content themselves with praying, there would be nothing\n done. I am afraid I cannot do much, for I do not know how to\n begin, and I have so little confidence and I know so few\n people. But I felt as if I could not pray any more without\n trying to do something also. Perhaps the work could be begun by\n an appeal something like the following:\n\n To Catholic Mothers.\n\n \"Of forty thousand vagrant children in New York we cannot\n doubt that far more than one half have inherited the Catholic\n faith.\"--_Catholic World_ for Aug. 1868.\n\n More than twenty thousand Catholic children in New York,\n homeless, uncared for, ignorant, and abandoned! Can we\n Catholic mothers think of this and sit quietly in our homes\n with our little ones around us? Can we shut from our ears\n their cries of sorrow, from our eyes their little forms\n trembling with cold and hunger, or from our hearts the\n thought of their desolation? No, we cannot, and we would not;\n for is it not most especially our right, our duty, and our\n privilege to do for them? Our priests are overworked, they\n cannot do everything; let us, then, beg their blessing and\n begin this noble undertaking. We have not much to do, only to\n prepare the way. The Sisters of Charity or Mercy are ready\n and longing to care for these little desolate ones. We have\n only to put the means in their hands. Already a Catholic lady\n of New York has given one thousand dollars for this end, and\n we have only to follow her as far as we are able. I think ten\n others can be found in our city to imitate her example. If we\n can, let us give largely, for it is but lending to the Lord;\n if we have but little, let us give of that, not forgetting\n that the widow's mite was more than all else cast into the\n treasury. Shall we let the snows of another winter find these\n little ones still unclothed and unsheltered; shall we let\n their souls perish here in the midst of churches and altars,\n while our priests and missionaries in distant lands are\n shedding their blood for the heathen? Let us Christian\n mothers begin our work earnestly, let us pray and labor for\n these little ones; they are here in our midst, and before God\n we are responsible for them.\n\n Respectfully, ----\n\nOur correspondent, we believe, has gone to work in the right way,\nand, unless we greatly misjudge the Catholic ladies of New York,\nher appeal will be heard. The best plan, we think, would be to\nestablish, in the heart of the poorer quarters of the city, a\nmission-house under the charge of Sisters of Charity, or Sisters\nof Mercy, who should make it their whole business to visit the\ndestitute in their homes, teach them how to lead decent lives,\nsee that their children were brought into Sunday and day-schools,\nthat the whole family went to mass and confession, and that the\nchildren received proper care at home. It is much better to\npersuade parents to train up their offspring properly than to\ntake the children out of their hands and rear them in\nmission-houses and asylums. The family relation ought to be\nrigidly respected; for God's plan of education is a good deal\nbetter than anything we can invent in place of it. For homeless\nand orphan children, the Sisters might see that admission was\nprocured into the Catholic establishments already provided for\nthose classes; for the sick and the starving they would ask\nrelief from the charitable throughout the city, and whatever we\nplaced in their hands we might be sure would be judiciously\ndistributed.\n{285}\nThere are generous Catholic women enough in New York to the\nfoundation of such a house, and provide for the support of a\nsmall community to take charge of it; and there are many who\nwould highly value the privilege of co-operating with the Sisters\nin their holy work. Let them come forth, effect an organization\nunder the sanction of the ecclesiastical authority of the\ndiocese, begin at once to raise the money required, and a great\nundertaking, the parent of many others, will be effected. When we\nonce get into the way of practical benevolence, we shall be\nsurprised to see how easily one foundation will follow another,\nand how the habit of alms-deeds will become so fixed that it will\nseem easier and more natural to give than to refrain from giving.\n\n ----------\n\n New Publications.\n\n\n Symbolism; or, Exposition of the Doctrinal Differences between\n Catholics and Protestants, as evidenced by their Symbolical\n Writings.\n By John A. Moehler, D.D.\n Translated from the German, with a Memoir of the Author,\n preceded by an Historical Sketch of the state of Protestantism\n and Catholicism in Germany for the last hundred years.\n By J. B. Robertson.\n New edition, revised and annotated by the Translator.\n One vol. 8vo, pp. 504,\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1868.\n\nThe Symbolism of Dr. M\u00f6hler is, perhaps, the most remarkable\npolemical work which has appeared since the days of Bellarmine\nand Bossuet. Its influence in Germany has been extraordinary, and\nthe translation by Mr. Robertson has exerted an influence of\nsimilar importance in Great Britain and the United States, as\nwell as in every part of the world where English is spoken. The\nlate illustrious convert from the Protestant Episcopal hierarchy,\nDr. Ives, was greatly indebted to this book for the convictions\nwhich brought him into the Church, and many others might\ndoubtless say the same of themselves. It may be well to say, for\nthe benefit of non-professional readers, that \"Symbolism\" in\nGerman phraseology means the exposition of symbols of faith or\nauthorized formularies of doctrines, and that this work is a\nthorough discussion of the dogmatic differences between the\nCatholic Church and the principal Protestant denominations. The\npresent edition is a very convenient one, in one volume, neatly\nexecuted and well printed. We cannot too earnestly recommend to\nour intelligent readers, who desire thorough and solid\ninformation on the great topics of Catholic doctrine, to study\ncarefully this great masterpiece of learning and thought.\n\n ----\n\n The Pope And The Church Considered In Their Mutual Relations\n With Reference To The Errors Of The High Church Party In\n England.\n By the Rev. Paul Bottalla, S.J.,\n Professor of Theology in St. Beuno's College, North Wales.\n Part I. The Supreme Authority of the Pope.\n London: Burns, Gates & Co. 1868.\n\n The Apostolical And Infallible Authority Of The Pope.\n By F. X. Weninger, D.D., S.J.\n New York: Sadlier. Cincinnati: John P. Walsh. 1868.\n\nThe first named of these two works is one of the very best and\nmost learned treatises on the subject discussed which has\nappeared in the English language, and will prove an invaluable\naddition to every clergyman's or educated layman's library. It\nis, moreover, of very moderate size, and written with remarkable\nlogical terseness and lucidness of style and order.\n\n{286}\n\nThe second work also contains a valuable and extensive collection\nof authorities and testimonies to the supreme teaching authority\nof the Holy See, and a _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of the arguments usually\ngiven by theologians in support of the author's thesis. The\nmoderate and gentle spirit in which the venerated author speaks\nof the adherents of another school of Catholic theologians is\nespecially commendable and worthy of imitation, particularly as\nwe are now awaiting the assembling of an Ecumenical Council,\nwhich will doubtless decide all questions heretofore in\ncontroversy in regard to which the good of the Church requires\nany clearer definitions than those which have been already made\nand universally accepted. There are some few corrections called\nfor in the construction of the author's sentences, especially one\nwhich occurs in the note to page 206. The mechanical execution of\nthe book cannot receive any high commendation.\n\n----\n\n The Illustrated Catholic Sunday-school Library.\n Second Series. Twelve volumes, pp. 144 each.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society,\n 126 Nassau street. 1868.\n\nThe titles of the volumes in this series are as follows:\n _Nettlethorpe, the Miser;\n Tales of Naval and Military Life;\n Harry O'Brien, and Other Tales;\n The Hermit of Mount Atlas;\n Leo, or The Choice of a Friend;\n Antonio, or The Orphan of Florence;\n Tales of the South of France;\n Stories of Other Lands;\n Emma's Cross, and Other Tales;\n Uncle Edward's Stories;\n Joe Baker;\n The Two Painters._\n\nThese tales were evidently selected with good taste and sound\njudgment. All are interesting, of a high moral tone, and well\nadapted to carry out the praiseworthy object for which this\n\"library\" was intended: furnishing Catholic youth of both sexes\nwith reading matter both useful and entertaining.\n\nThese volumes, in diversity of scene, variety of incident, etc.,\nfully equal those which appeared in the \"First Series;\" while in\nexternal elegance, and in beauty of illustration, they are\ndecidedly superior. We find one fault, however. Considering how\nfar girls outnumber boys in our Sunday-schools, we think it\nhardly fair that but one volume should be devoted to the joys and\nsorrows, the temptations and triumphs, of girlhood. In our\nopinion, several volumes in each series should be, in an especial\nmanner, set apart for their particular pleasure and benefit. We\nhope our suggestion will be, if possible, acted upon in the next\nseries.\n\n ----\n\n Leaf And Flower Pictures, And How To Make Them.\n New York: Anson D. F. Randolph. 1868.\n\nThis pleasantly written and instructive little work is dedicated\nmost affectionately to the authoress's \"Two dear little\n'Doppies,'\" two little girls named respectively Nellie and Anna,\nwho one day 'dopted her for their aunt. Hence their name. Whoever\nH. B. may be, (for this is all that is given us to know of this\ngood \"aunt,\") we are sure that many persons who are interested in\nthe delightful recreation of making leaf and flower pictures will\nthank her for the composition of this book. That our readers may\nunderstand its object, we quote from the preface: \"I think even\nquite small children, both boys and girls, as well as older\npersons, will find it delightful to make themselves pictures, and\nhave a collection 'of their own' of all sorts of leaves, mosses,\ngrasses, flowers, and lichens. Will it not add greatly to the\npleasure of being out of doors, if, in every walk you take, from\nMay to October, you carry home some leaf, or flower, or spike of\ngrass, to add to the treasures of your _hortus siccus_, or\nto lay aside until the long cold hours of winter come, when, in\nvarnishing and arranging them as pictures and decorations, you\ncan almost restore to yourself the delight of your summer\nrambles, and make into a permanent and abiding pleasure a portion\nof the beauty which then charmed and refreshed your soul?\nTherefore, dear reader, be you child or woman, boy or man, if you\nwould open your eyes some frosty morning next January, and behold\na lovely wreath of flowers blooming upon the walls of your\nchamber, with all the freshness of June--a wreath that Jack\nFrost cannot wither, even if he has sent the mercury out of sight\nbelow zero--read this little book; for you can have one by\nfollowing its directions.\"\n\n{287}\n\n Personal Sketches Of His Own Times.\n By Sir Jonah Barrington, Judge of the High Court of the\n Admiralty in Ireland, etc., etc.\n One vol. 12mo.\n\n The Life Of The Right Honorable John Philpot Curran,\n Late Master Of The Rolls In Ireland.\n By his son, William Henry Curran.\n With additions and notes by R. Shelton Mackenzie, D.C.L.\n One vol. 12mo.\n\n Sketches Of The Irish Bar.\n By the Right Hon. Richard Lalor Sheil, M.P.\n With Memoir and Notes by R. Shelton Mackenzie, D.C.L.\n Two volumes, pp. 388, 380.\n New York: W. J. Widdleton. 1868.\n\nAbove we give the titles of three works which have been out of\nprint for some time, but new editions of which have just\nappeared. Sheil's \"Sketches,\" commenced in 1822 and continued\nuntil 1829, embrace short, piquant biographies of the most\nprominent members of the Irish Bar--O'Connell, Plunket, Burke,\nO'Loghlin, Norbury, etc.; with incidental allusions to other\ncelebrities--Lady Morgan, Lord Edward Fitzgerald, Robert Emmet,\netc., etc. There are, in addition, the author's personal\nrecollections of the Catholic Association in 1823; of the visit\nof the Catholic deputation to London in 1825, and its reception\nin the House of Commons; and of the great Clare Election in 1828.\n\nBarrington's Sketches are also racy and piquant, and give an\ninsight into Irish manners and customs fifty years ago. The \"Life\nof Curran\" has been a standard work, and this new edition will\nbring it anew before the rising generation.\n\n ----\n\n The Works Of Rev. Arthur O'leary, O.S.F.\n Edited by a clergyman of Massachusetts.\n One vol. 8vo, pp. 596. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1868.\n\nThe reputation of F. O'Leary is universal among all who take an\ninterest in Irish history and literature. His works, which abound\nwith learning, humor, and passages of remarkably fine writing of\nthe rich, ornate style of the old school, have been carefully\nedited by the learned clergyman whose name is modestly withheld\non the title-page, and published in good style by Mr. Donahoe. We\nthank them both for this valuable service to Catholic literature,\nand have no suggestion to make, except that the small number of\ntypographical errors which have escaped the vigilance of the\nproof-reader should be corrected in the second edition.\n\n ----\n\n The Lily Of The Valley;\n or, Margie and I, and other Poems.\n By Amy Gray.\n Baltimore: Kelly & Piet. 1868.\n\nThe gentle authoress of these poems, which have, at least, the\nmerit of conveying a genuine expression of her sentiments,\npresents the volume to the public with this preface, which we\ncopy entire:\n\n \"The object of the publication of the poems, and in view of\n which most of them were written, is to aid in the education of\n destitute little girls of the South, orphaned by the late war.\n The author cannot hope for more than a mite from so small a\n volume--the production, too, of an unknown writer; but the\n proceeds, whatever they may be, will be unreservedly\n appropriated to the object above named. To an intelligent and\n generous reading public the author confides this little work,\n feeling sure that their generosity will secure for it a\n patronage that its intrinsic merit cannot hope to obtain. It\n was of old the duty and privilege of the chosen people of God\n to offer the first-fruits of all their possessions to his\n service; and it is with gratitude for many mercies received,\n and with earnest prayers for the divine blessing, that the\n author would dedicate the first-fruits of her pen to an object\n which seems in accordance with the teachings of our blessed\n Lord, who has said: 'Take heed that ye despise not one of these\n little ones; for I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do\n always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.'\"\n\n{288}\n\n Excelsior;\n or, Essays on Politeness, Education,\n and the Means of Attaining Success in Life.\n Part I. For young gentlemen. By T. E. Howard, A.M.\n Part II. For young ladies. By a lady, (R. V. R.)\n Baltimore: Kelly & Piet 1868.\n\nA capital book, and one we would like to have placed in the hands\nof every student, boy or girl, in the country. It is not easy to\nwrite books of this character, at least books that young persons\nwill read; but Mr. Howard and his gentle co-author have produced\na volume as pleasantly written as it is solidly instructive. It\nis said that it requires a high degree of moral courage to\npurchase at the bookseller's a book \"on politeness.\" We trust\nthat few among our young friends will be wanting in this courage\nwhen the purchase of the present volume is concerned, and we will\nguarantee that not one will fail to peruse it with very great\npleasure.\n\n ----\n\n Mac Carthy More; or, The Fortunes of an Irish Chief\n in the Reign of Queen Elizabeth.\n By Mrs. J. Sadlier.\n New York: D. & J. Sadlier & Co. Pp. 277. 1868.\n\nThis, the latest production of Mrs. Sadlier's prolific pen, is in\nno wise inferior to its predecessors. The incidents which form\nits groundwork are strictly historical, and can be found in\n_The Life and Letters of Florence Mac Carthy Reagh, Tanist of\nCarberry, Mac Carthy Mor_, compiled from unpublished documents\nin her Majesty's State Paper Office, by Daniel Mac Carthy,\n(Glas,) and published by Longman & Co., London. For those who\ncannot afford to purchase the more expensive English work, Mrs.\nSadlier's condensation of the life and times of the great Irish\nchieftain will prove a very agreeable substitute. Besides being\nthus presented under the guise of a graceful little story, they\nwill doubtless be more acceptable to most readers than the dry\nand prosaic details of mere historical narration.\n\n ----\n\n Plain Talk About The Protestantism Of To-day.\n From the French of Mgr. Segur.\n Boston: P. Donahoe. 1868.\n\nThe best word we can say about this little book is to copy the\nfirst few lines of the translator's note:\n\n \"You ask me, dear sir, 'What makes me so anxious to publish\n this work in America?' Well, I wish to have it published for\n the sake of Catholic children tending common schools--of\n Catholic girls living out in families--of Catholic boys serving\n their time--of all dear and poor friends so often wounded in\n the affections dearest to their hearts, and whose religion is\n so often attacked in rude words. I herewith hope to place in\n their hands such arms as they can easily use, and which will\n have a telling effect on the enemies of their faith.\"\n\n ----\n\n Mignon. A Tale.\n Translated from the French.\n New York: P. O'Shea. Pp. 202. 1868.\n\nA charming little story, neatly got up; but the pleasure to be\nderived from its perusal would, however, be considerably\nincreased if the thread of the narrative were not so often and so\nneedlessly broken by whole pages devoted to sentimentalisms of\nthe shallowest type.\n\n ----------\n{289}\n\n The Catholic World.\n\n Vol. VIII., No. 45 December, 1868.\n\n ----------\n\n Hypnotics.\n\n\nThe craving for opiates indicates either pain or restlessness.\nThe wounded man longs for that which may dull the sensation of\nphysical suffering and procure the temporary oblivion of sleep.\nOne who is wearied by the morbid activity of his brain, and the\nlassitude which is caused by it, desires some artificial remedy\nto give him the repose which refuses to come naturally to his\nsleepless eyelids. A person in health has no need, and,\nconsequently, no desire for opiates. His activity is healthful\nand pleasurable; his weariness is natural, making rest pleasant,\nand giving sound, recreative slumbers. In like manner, when one\nbegins to talk about a craving for an intellectual or spiritual\nopiate, the presence of some malady making the soul restless is\nmanifest. Its activity is morbid and irregular, preventing that\nrepose which is the natural consequence of a perfectly sound and\nnormal condition of the mental and spiritual faculties.\n\nThese remarks were suggested by reading, in an article written\nwith much refinement of taste and delicacy of sentiment in one of\nour principal literary papers, [Footnote 122] the following\npassage on the hypnotic qualities of Catholicity:\n\n [Footnote 122: _The Nation_, August 18th, 1868;\n Review of Mrs. Craven's _Sister's Story_.]\n\n \"Mrs. Craven certainly offers very abundant and convincing\n testimony on this point--a point which probably no one ever\n dreams of controverting. Given natures like these, in which the\n emotional element entirely predominates; to which the pursuit\n of truth, as an ultimate object, is totally incomprehensible;\n which crave happiness and repose with a passionate longing, and\n the Church certainly offers a satisfactory and comprehensive\n solution of all their difficulties. _We should all be\n Catholics were it not that the Church sets too high a price\n upon her opiates_. One generally pays for extreme wealth of\n emotional power by a corresponding poverty of judgment, and\n though, if we had our choice, we might all be willing to be\n born blind, that we might never feel afraid in the dark, the\n settlement of the matter is certainly not optional with us. It\n is a congenital impossibility for some people to conceive of\n their natural passions, of their judgment, will, and reason, as\n mere counters with which they can purchase eternal rest, and a\n tardy but complete gratification of the wants which are here\n unsupplied. Such people do not, in rejecting Catholicism,\n necessarily disavow the yearning for this rest, nor the belief\n that it will be attained. _The craving is universal, the\n Church's answer only partial--it allows the claims of the\n emotions, but it disallows those of the intellect_. There is\n no doubt that she does her legitimate work well and thoroughly,\n that she gives hope to the despairing, comfort to the\n sorrowing, and sometimes mends the morals of the vicious--we\n quarrel with her only because in virtue of doing this she\n claims the right to outrage or ignore wants yet profounder than\n those which she supplies.\"\n\n{290}\n\nWe have selected this passage as the theme of some brief\ndiscussion, without any reference to the particular topic of the\narticle in which it is contained, or intention of raising any\nspecial controversy with the writer of it, whose personality is\nentirely unknown to us. It has struck our attention simply as a\nremarkably tangible and felicitous expression of a sentiment or\nopinion shared in common by a large class of minds, and well\nworthy of our most serious consideration. They think that those\nwho have embraced the Catholic religion have been driven, by the\nunrest and weariness of the soul, to take a spiritual opiate--a\nmetaphorical expression, but one whose meaning is so obvious that\nit needs no explanation. They acknowledge the existence of the\nsame unrest in their own souls, but refuse to accept the remedy\noffered by the Catholic Church, because they imagine that it can\nonly produce its effect of relieving the pain of the soul by\nsuperinducing an artificial sleep of the intellect. The mind must\nslumber, intelligence must cease its activity, in order that the\nheart may be made peaceful and happy in the practice of the\nCatholic religion. They are unwilling to purchase rest at such a\nprice, and, it may be, would be unable to do it if they were\nwilling. Therefore, they prefer to endure the pain of doubt, the\nrestlessness of scepticism, the weariness of a yearning after an\nunknown good, in the vague expectation of finding it at some\ndistant period, if not in this world, yet in some future sphere\nof existence. The objection of these persons to Catholicity is,\nthat it does not acknowledge or adequately satisfy the just\ndemands of the intellect. Those who embrace it, they say, cannot\njustify their conversion on rational grounds, or allege\nsufficient and conclusive evidence of the truth of its doctrines.\nThey have either never sought for a religion which satisfies\nreason, or have abandoned their search in despair, and laid their\nintellect to sleep upon the soft pillow of an unreasoning\nsubmission to an authority that supersedes all exercise of\nthought, and quiets all action of intelligence. The correctness\nof this assumption is the precise topic of discussion we now\npropose. It is evidently altogether useless to frame an argument\non the supposition that we have to deal with any form of\nProtestant orthodoxy, so-called. Persons who profess to believe\nin a definite system of doctrine as revealed truth cannot admit\nany such unsatisfied yearnings after truth as those are whose\nexistence is denoted by the writer of the paragraphs we have\ncited. It is, therefore, useless to take as data any of the\nprinciples or doctrines of the common Protestant theology. It is\nwith a sceptical state of mind we have to deal, which rejects\nevery received version of Christianity as incomplete and\nunsatisfactory, however it may admit, in a general way, that\nChristianity itself is something divine. We think we may take it\nfor granted that the very state of mind indicated by the language\non which we are commenting has been produced by a revolt of the\nreason against Protestant theology. Probably those whose\nsentiments are represented by this language have been more or\nless strictly educated in the tenets of some one of the\nProtestant churches.\n{291}\nThey have found these tenets to be absurd--incredible; based on\nno solid evidence; mere individual theories, contradicted by the\nfacts of history and the dictates of mature reason. They have,\nconsequently, abjured all allegiance to any sect or school of\nProtestant Christianity, and have fallen back upon their own\nreason as the exponent of the Christian religion, and of all\nother religions, as the only criterion of truth in all orders of\nthought, and the only guide which has been given to man amid the\nperplexities which beset his intellect on every side. The\nCatholic system of doctrines is supposed to be essentially the\nsame with orthodox Protestantism, _plus_ a few more dogmas,\na system of elaborate ceremonial, and a peculiar hierarchical\norganization, which openly claims and enforces submission to its\nown doctrinal decisions and moral precepts as infallible and\nsupreme. The same absurdities which exist in the Protestant\nsystem of theology are supposed to be contained also in the\nCatholic system. It does not occur to these persons that these\nabsurdities maybe traced to exaggerated or distorted theories\nrespecting the ancient dogmas of Christianity, which are rejected\nby the Catholic theology, and to the incompleteness of the\nProtestant systems, which are built up from fragments of the\nsublime edifice they have destroyed, without plan, order, or\narchitectural harmony. This is, however, the fact; and when we\nspeak of the unreasonableness of the orthodox Protestant form of\nChristianity as the occasion and temptation to scepticism, we\nmust be understood to speak in accordance with this fact. We do\nnot mean to say that the evidences of the divine revelation and\ntruth of Christianity, and a vast body of true and reasonable\ndoctrines, are not retained in the Protestant teaching, or that\nit makes scepticism justifiable. We merely intend to say that it\ndoes not satisfy reason or command assent as a system in all its\nessential parts, and therefore leaves the mind in a bewilderment\nby its partial truths and partial errors, which is the occasion\nof a kind of intellectual despair, resulting frequently in\nscepticism. The truly rational part would be to hold on to the\nconviction of the great facts of Christianity and its substantial\ntruth, and to search for some more reasonable and satisfactory\nexposition of the true meaning of Christianity than that given by\nthese self-constituted, unauthorized, and mutually conflicting\nexpositors of divine revelation. Such a search would inevitably\nland the honest and persevering seeker in the Catholic Church, as\nit has done so many and will so many more in time to come. There\nis a divine philosophy in the Catholic religion which satisfies\nall the legitimate demands of reason--that same philosophy which\nattracted Dionysius of Athens, Sergius Paulus, Cornelius, Pudens,\nJustin, Tatian, Athenagoras, Clement, Pantaenus, St. Augustine,\nand a host of other noble intellects, to Christianity in the days\nof old, and in which they found that perennial source of truth\nfrom which Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, Lao-Tseu and\nConfucius, had only drawn some rills.\n\nIt is not within the scope of our thesis to show positively the\ntruth of the above affirmation. We merely intend to show that it\nis made; that the church does not \"disallow the claims of the\nintellect,\" or \"claim the right to outrage or ignore wants yet\nprofounder than those which she supplies;\" that \"the pursuit of\ntruth as an ultimate object\" is not \"totally incomprehensible\" to\nthose who yield the allegiance of their minds to the light of\nfaith; that they do not \"conceive of their judgment, will, and\nreason, as mere counters with which to purchase eternal rest.\"\n{292}\nWhether the Catholic solution of the problems of reason is\nobjectively the true one is not the direct aim of our reasoning.\nThe point is, whether Catholic theology and philosophy propose\nany solution at all; whether any class of minds who seek\nearnestly after such a solution find one which they hold and\nmaintain to be completely satisfactory to reason in the Catholic\nChurch. The writer whose language we have quoted denies it, and\nDr. Bellows has recently denied it, asserting boldly that those\nwho have embraced the Catholic faith have done so by a reaction\nfrom an extreme rationalism into superstition. What is\ngratuitously asserted may be gratuitously denied, and we deny it\naccordingly. Some few persons, perceiving that they were\nfollowing principles which lead logically to Pantheism and\nAtheism, and that there is no real logical alternative of the\ndenial of God except Catholicity, have been led to examine and\nembrace the Catholic faith. Neither Dr. Bellows nor any other\nperson professing to be rational is entitled to call this act a\nsuperstitious one, unless it can be shown that the motives of it\nare reducible to an irrational credulity, or a voluntary\nsubmission to some claim of supernatural authority which is\ndestitute of probability, on grounds which are incapable of\nconvincing a prudent man. The remark of Dr. Bellows is,\ntherefore, simply an intolerable impertinence. The statement\nwhich he makes is, moreover, false in point of fact, since a\nlarge proportion of modern converts to the Catholic Church have\ntravelled the road of orthodox Protestantism, and not that of\nrationalism.\n\nIt is no less incorrect to state that it is only persons in whom\nthe sentimental element predominates who find satisfaction for\nthe wants of their souls in the Catholic religion. In the first\nplace, it is absurd to suppose that the legitimate cravings or\naspirations of any one part of human nature can be satisfied\ncompletely by that which is not real, and therefore not true.\nTruth, goodness, and beauty are identical in respect to their\nbeing or reality. The religion which is adapted to one class of\nminds is adapted to all. It is, moreover, incorrect to reduce all\nmen to two classes--those who are led by the logical faculty, and\nthose who are led by sensibility. The intelligence has its\nintuitions in an order of thought far superior to the mere\nunderstanding. The will has also a sublime range in an order far\nsuperior to the sphere of sensible emotions. Those who never\noccupy their minds in any metaphysical or theological\nspeculations whatever may, therefore, in their spiritual nature,\napprehend divine truth far more immediately and perfectly, and\nmay possess the truest and highest wisdom in a much more eminent\nsense, than the most acute philosopher. The interior or spiritual\nlife, moreover, of those persons who are rather seeking to\nperfect their souls in virtue than their intellects in knowledge,\nis by no means a life of indulgence in pleasurable emotions, the\nenjoyments of sensible devotion, or anything else which gives\nsensitive nature the pabulum or the opiates after which it\nhankers. This whole order of ideas belongs to sentimental\nProtestantism, and is totally alien from Catholic ascetics, as is\nwell known to the youngest novice in any religious community.\n\n{293}\n\nOf course we cannot expect literary gentlemen to understand these\nmatters, and cannot wonder at the mistakes they make when they\nwrite about them. We can justly require of them nothing more than\na supreme love of truth for its own sake, and a willingness to\nsee it when it is presented to them. Any one who loves the truth\non this point sufficiently to read Rodriguez on _Christian\nPerfection_, F. Baker's _Sancta Sophia_, or F. Faber's\n_Growth in Holiness_, can satisfy himself of the very low\nestimate in which sensible devotion is held by our spiritual\nwriters. If he should wish for a more extensive course of\nreading, we would recommend Tauler's Sermons and the works of St.\nJohn of the Cross. He will there see that the pleasures of\nsensibility, imagination, taste, the affections, the romance and\npoetry of religion, are not condemned or rudely trampled on, but\nsimply relegated to the lowest place, made use of as the\nwaiting-maids of the divine wisdom and strong virtue which\nconstitute solid perfection. The Catholic religion satisfies not\nmerely the emotional nature of man, but his spiritual nature. It\ncould not do this unless it were capable of placing the soul in\nits true relation to its proper object, to its final end, to its\nreal destiny, and furnishing it with all the means of advancing\ncontinually toward the union with God in which beatitude\nconsists. It could not be capable of doing this unless it came\nfrom God; and, coming from God, it must teach the truth which is\nnecessary and adequate to the perfection of the reason, as well\nas the perfection of the will. We will take up the question,\nhowever, in a more historical and inductive manner, in order to\nshow, as a matter of fact, that those minds in which the logical\nfaculty and the taste for the cultivation of pure reason is more\nstrongly developed and active, find an equal scope and\nsatisfaction in Catholicity with the other class above mentioned.\n\nOne needs but a moderate acquaintance with the method and spirit\nwhich have always prevailed in the great Catholic schools to know\nhow powerfully they stimulate the activity of the intellect,\nawaken the thirst for rational investigation, encourage the\neffort to penetrate as far as possible into the domain of ideal\ntruth, and to trace the relations of all things in the world of\nthought to their first and final cause. The basis and foundation\nof the whole structure of the higher education, especially in the\ndepartment of theology, is laid in a thorough training in logic\nand philosophy. The same logical and philosophical method\npervades the entire system of theological instruction. Every\ndogma of faith, every opinion of the schools, every principle of\nphilosophy, is subjected to a rigid and critical analysis,\nincluding an examination of all the difficulties and objections\nwhich have ever been raised by the adversaries of the Church,\nduring all past ages and in the present. In the theses which the\nstudents of theology and philosophy are obliged to defend,\ncovering the whole field of these higher sciences, sceptical,\natheistical, pantheistic, infidel, and heretical arguments,\nstated with the utmost logical subtlety of which the objector is\npossessed, are presented without any restriction or reserve, not\nonly by other pupils but by the professors and other learned\ntheologians. In the universities, colleges, and religious houses,\nwhere bodies of men are collected possessing the means and\nrequisites for a life of study and learned labor, there is every\nfacility and inducement afforded for the most thorough\nprosecution of every branch of human knowledge which can possibly\nhave any bearing on the advancement of the queen and mistress of\nall sciences, theology.\n{294}\nMoreover, in modern times there has sprung up among the educated\nlaity, among the statesmen, professional men, scholars, and\ngentlemen of leisure and intellectual tastes, a school of\nstudents and authors in the same high department of thought,\nindependent, so far as their private and temporal interests are\nconcerned, of any ecclesiastical authority, and free to follow\nthe dictates of their reason and conscience wherever these may\nlead them. It is the easiest thing in the world to make a\ncatalogue of names, illustrious among the advocates and defenders\nof the Church, in whom the intellectual powers have been, through\nthe force of native genius and acquired culture, brought to the\nhighest grade of development. Bellarmine, Suarez, Canus, Cajetan,\nSfondrati, Petavius, Molina, Gerdil, Thomassin, Mabillon,\nMuratori, Bossuet, Malebranche, Des Cartes, Galluppi, Rosmini,\nGioberti, Mastrofini, Mai, Mezzofanti, G\u00f6rres, M\u00f6hler, Theiner,\nLacordaire, Ozanam, Donoso Cortes, Balmes, Wiseman, England,\nMontalembert, De Broglie, Cant\u00f9; are these the names of men of\nweak judgment and strong emotions, who were mastered by an\nunreasoning, pietistic sentiment? Or, are they the names of\nhypocrites and impostors, who prostituted their genius to the\nsupport of a cause which they knew to be based on falsehood,\nillusion, and deceit? Listen to the words written from his couch\nof pain by Montalembert, near the close of the last volume of his\n_Monks of the West_:\n\n \"The more I advance in my laborious and thankless task--that is\n to say, the nearer I approach to my grave--the more do I feel\n mastered and overpowered by an ardent and respectful love of\n truth, the more do I feel myself incapable of betraying truth,\n even for the benefit of what I most love here below. The mere\n idea of adding a shadow to those which already shroud it fills\n me with horror. To veil the truth, to hide it, to forsake it\n under the pretence of serving the cause of religion, which is\n nothing but supreme truth, would be, in my opinion, to\n aggravate a lie by a kind of sacrilege. Forgive me, all timid\n and scrupulous souls! But I hold that in history everything\n should be sacrificed to truth--that it must be always spoken,\n on every subject, and in its full integrity.\" [Footnote 123]\n\n [Footnote 123: _Monks of the West_, vol. v. p. 305.]\n\nHear also the language used by the eminent historian Cesare\nCant\u00f9:\n\n \"After having replaced Christianity face to face with history,\n with reason, with conscience; after having interpreted it with\n all liberty of mind, we feel ourselves confirmed in our respect\n for the Catholic tradition. We have drawn from our studies new\n motives for the conviction that the actual organization of the\n church is excellent, both for moderating in a suitable degree\n the sovereignty of the smaller number, while at the same time\n infusing a spirit of subordination into the masses, and also\n for procuring the largest possible dose of happiness for men;\n we mean by this that happiness which arises from the voluntary\n submission of their minds to a mild and persuasive moral power,\n and not to a mere coercive restraint.\" [Footnote 124]\n\n [Footnote 124: _La R\u00e9forme en Itilie_, pref. p. xi.]\n\nThis is not the language of superstition or of unintelligent\nenthusiasm, but of calm, well-reasoned conviction, the language\nof men supremely devoted to the pursuit of truth for its own\nsake; and it is but a fair specimen of the language of all the\ngreat advocates of the Catholic religion. It would be utterly\nimpossible for any system, destitute of solid foundations and\nunsupported by reasonable proofs, to endure the perpetual and\nthorough researches and investigations carried on by a vast body\nof learned men in the Catholic schools for ages, with the full\napprobation and encouragement of the highest authorities in the\nchurch. The theory that such a set of men could be made the dupes\nof an arbitrary authority administered with the intention of\nswaying the minds of men by a systematic violation of all the\nrights of reason, or made the partisans and upholders of what\nthey knew to be an imposture, is too incredible for anything less\nthan a boundless credulity to embrace.\n\n{295}\n\nLet us turn our attention now to that class of minds nurtured in\nanti-Catholic opinions, over whom the Catholic Church has\nregained in part or completely an influence, bringing them to the\nrecognition of her divine authority. What is the force which has\nmade itself felt at the great distance to which the Protestant\nmind has been violently thrown by the revolution of the sixteenth\ncentury, and which has drawn back toward the Catholic centre a\nbody of persons who cannot be either ignored or despised without\nthe most stolid prejudice or the sheerest affectation? Is it a\nmere force which is capable of acting only on the emotions, the\nimagination, the sensible portion of the nature of individuals in\nwhom reason does not exercise her just and rightful supremacy?\nAre there none who have been led by the philosophy of history, by\nmetaphysics, by theological reasoning, by the investigation of\nScripture, by the search for a supreme and universal science, by\nthe deductions of logic, and the inductions of experience and\nobservation, to a calm and rational conviction that the highest\nwisdom and the most perfect law are embodied in the Catholic\nChurch? The statement of Lord Macaulay is familiar to all, that\nthe doctrines of the Catholic Church have heretofore commanded\nthe assent of the wisest and best of mankind, and may therefore\ncommand the assent of men similar to them in the future. A fair\nexamination of the question will convince any one of the fact,\nwhich cannot be gainsaid by any one professing to love the truth\nsupremely for its own sake, that numbers of men fully qualified\nto judge of evidence and to comprehend the most abstruse\nreasoning have given the homage of their minds to Catholic\ndoctrine precisely because of the invincible logic both of facts\nand arguments by which its truth was demonstrated to their\nreason.\n\nLeibnitz is one instance in point. Although he never joined the\ncommunion of the Catholic Church, yet the whole weight of his\nauthority as a philosopher and a theologian is on the side of the\nCatholic principles and doctrines, which are the most obnoxious\nto our modern rationalists. The same is true of Baron Stark, the\nauthor of the _Banquet of Theodulus_. The celebrated Leo,\none of the greatest historians of Germany, began his career as a\nPantheist, and by his profound historical studies was brought to\na full conviction of the divine authority of revelation, and of\nthe necessity of a return to the communion of the Holy See on the\npart of all the dissentient and separated communions. His\n_Universal History_ is an irrefutable argument for the truth\nof Christianity and the authority of the Roman Church. Although,\ntherefore, none of these three distinguished men can be counted\namong the converts to the Catholic Church, yet their names can be\ncited in support of the position we have taken, since we are\npersuaded that our candid opponents will admit that strict\nlogical consistency would require any one admitting their\npremises to draw the practical conclusion that it is obligatory\non his conscience to become a member of the Catholic Church.\n\n{296}\n\nHurter, Phillipps, and Stolberg are instances of German scholars\nwhom profound and learned studies brought to a full Catholic\nconviction. Mayne de Biran is an example of a philosopher, who\nreasoned himself out of infidelity into a firm conviction of the\ntruth of the Catholic religion by a metaphysical process. Passing\nby those well-known persons in England and America whose\neducation was ecclesiastical, we may cite an Englishman, Sir\nGeorge Bowyer, and an American, Judge Burnett, first governor of\nCalifornia, as instances of men who applied the principles of law\nand jurisprudence to the evidence of the claims of the Catholic\nChurch, and were led to submit to them by a process of legal\nargument, which the latter gentleman has developed at length in\nhis able work, entitled _The Path which led a Protestant Lawyer\nto the Catholic Church_. The late Dr. Bellinger, of\nCharleston, S. C., a physician who stood at the head of the\nmedical profession in his State, devoted thirteen years to a\ncareful study of the Catholic doctrines, before he publicly\nembraced them.\n\nAmong those who have devoted their pens to the Catholic cause in\nour own country, whether they have been educated to the Catholic\nfaith or have been converted to it from Protestantism, without\ndoubt the man who surpasses all others in intellectual power is\nDr. Brownson. No one would think of reckoning him among devotees\nor _dilettanti_. If Dr. Bellows were to express his opinion\nupon the motives which induced him to submit his masculine\nintelligence to the teaching of the church, he would probably\nacknowledge that he had him chiefly in view when he made the\nstatement referred to in a former part of this article. That is,\nhe would say that Dr. Brownson's conversion to Catholicity was an\nact of intellectual despair, a suicide committed by his reason\nbecause of its failure to attain by its own efforts that\ntranscendental science after which it was aspiring. The reply to\nthis is the same which AEschylus made before the judge at whose\ntribunal he was accused of having lost the use of his reason\nthrough old age. He recited a play which he had recently\ncomposed, as evidence that his intellect still remained in its\npristine vigor. And so Dr. Brownson may with equal justice point\nto the unanswered and unanswerable works which his pen has\nproduced since his conversion, and challenge those who pretend\nthat he has yielded his mind to an irrational superstition to\nrefute the arguments of his _Essays_ and _The Convert_.\nThe mere effort to read understandingly the latter book is the\nseverest tax which any ordinary brain can submit to. The\nphilosophical articles published in the _Review_, which Dr.\nBrownson conducted with such remarkable ability for a long\nperiod, surpass by far any specimens of metaphysical writing\ncontained in the English language. The frivolity of the age, and\nvarious causes connected with temporary and personal\ncontroversies, have prevented the full recognition of the value\nand merit of these philosophical essays, which it is probable\nthey will receive in the future time. The doctor has written a\nvast amount on a great number of topics both ecclesiastical and\nsecular, since he devoted his labors to the Catholic cause, and\nno doubt there are many inconsistent and varying opinions to be\nfound in his works, especially in regard to matters outside the\ndomain of pure philosophy and theology. Nevertheless, in our\njudgment, which we believe posterity will ratify, the pure gold\nstands in a very large proportion to the ore, and will only\nbecome brightened and purified by the severest tests of the\ncrucible which reduces every reputation to its just dimensions.\n{297}\nWe believe that Dr. Brownson's writings contain the most complete\nrefutation of the sceptical, pantheistic, sensist, and\npseudo-inductive or positivist errors of the day, as well as of\nthe chief heterodox systems of doctrine. In that noblest and most\nessential portion of philosophy which includes ontology and\ntheodicy, he has laid down the metaphysical basis of natural\ntheology with a Platonic depth and an Aristotelian precision of\nreasoning. Beside the massive structure of arguments respecting\nthe positive evidences of the authority and infallibility of the\nchurch which he has erected, a work in which he has many able\ncompeers, who though not more logical are more erudite than\nhimself, he has thrown out some masterpieces in that more\ndifficult and more rarely executed branch of labor, the\nexposition of the hidden, abstruse harmonies between rational\ntruths and the mysteries of faith. Prescinding all question\nrespecting the fact of his having presented the Catholic doctrine\nin such a light as to demonstrate its reasonableness, which is\nnot the point at issue, he has at least attempted it. He has\nshown that a man can be a thorough-going, orthodox Catholic, and\nat the same time a philosopher in the highest and best sense of\nthe word.\n\nThese instances are only examples and illustrations of a general\nrule. The two maxims of St. Augustine, _intellectum valde\nama_, and _fides quaerens intellectum_ have always been\nand are now maxims of the Catholic schools. The church has no\nfear of light, no dread of the progress of science; in point of\nfact, the greatest obstacles which advocates of the Catholic\ncause have to contend with are ignorance, disregard of the laws\nof logic, and the lack of belief in the reality and certainty of\nthe affirmations or judgments of pure reason. It is only slowly\nand with great difficulty that we can get the public either of\nwriters or readers to pay attention to the facts of history, and\ncast away the fables with which they have been duped themselves\nand duping others for so long. It is equally difficult to force\nthe controversy respecting philosophical and theological\nprinciples to the true logical issues, to get attention to our\narguments, or to extract from our opponents any clear and\ndistinct answers to them, or definite and precise statements of\ntheir own positions. Bishop England scarcely did anything else in\nhis masterly controversies than to point out the rules of logic\nviolated by his opponents, and the misstatements of historical\nfacts and Catholic doctrines made by them. The truth is, that our\nconflict is far less with any positive system of heterodoxy or\nrationalism than with a vague but universal scepticism. It is not\nso much that men disbelieve in the specific doctrines of\nrevelation, as that they disbelieve in the existence of any\ntruth. The power of reason, the capacity of the intellect to\ngrasp the intelligible, the certainty of rational principles and\nlogical deductions, the dignity of philosophy, are not\nexaggerated, they are depreciated. Those who revolt from the\nlegitimate and supreme authority of God, divine revelation, and\nthe infallible teaching of the church over the mind of man, are\nnot the legitimate offspring of the ancient philosophers, or the\ntrue continuators of philosophy. The ancient philosophers of\nGreece and China recognized the need of a divine revelation, a\nsupernatural light, a teacher sent from God. The whole civilized\nworld of heathenism was gasping in agony for the advent of the\ndivine Redeemer when he appeared on the earth.\n{298}\nOur modern self-styled rationalists have turned their backs on\nthat light toward which Lao-Tseu, Confucius, Socrates, and Plato\nhad their faces turned; and they have cut themselves loose from\nthe traditional wisdom, not only of Christianity and Judaism, but\nof all the sages of heathendom and of the whole human race.\nConsequently, they are smitten with intellectual death, they\ncannot advance or construct; they can only go backward, destroy,\ndoubt, deny, groan with despairing agony, and _die_. The\nmodern literature of unbelief is either a sneer or a lament; as\nto philosophy, it has fallen into contempt, and is generally\nscouted. Those who profess to handle grave themes in earnest are\nusually inconsequent, vague, full of hypotheses and random\nstatements; by their own confession mere wanderers in search of\ntruth who have lost their way; rhetoricians, guessers, men who\nteach not as having authority, even the authority of reason, but\n_as the Scribes_. The few men who possess rare native\nphilosophical genius, like Mill and Spencer, having no principles\nor data to begin with, imitate the great master of modern\nphilosophical scepticism, Immanuel Kant, and pervert reason and\nlogic into an instrument for destroying all true intellectual\nscience. Mr. Mill denies that we know that it is a necessary and\nuniversal truth that two and two make four. It may be therefore\nthat in some future state of existence he will have the same\nevidence that one is equal to two which he now has that one is\nonly equal to one, and that he is therefore some one else as well\nas himself, and perhaps responsible for all the crimes committed\nby Caligula. Nevertheless, he assures us that the ideas of\njustice and right in God must be the same that they are in his\nown mind, and that if any punishment is inflicted on him\nhereafter, which does not accord with his present sense of\njustice, he will never admit the right of inflicting it. Yet,\nupon his own principles, he cannot be sure that his own ideas of\nright and justice will not be totally altered in the next world,\nand that his reason will not compel him to admit that what now\nseems to him unjust will then appear to be precisely the\ncontrary. No matter, therefore, how absurd may be the doctrines\nwhich are professed as dogmas by any religious sect, no follower\nof Mr. Mill can have any right to reject them on purely rational\ngrounds. Mr. Spencer laboriously argues to convince us that we\nare compelled by the principles of logic to admit the truth of a\nnumber of directly contradictory propositions, and that\nconsequently all pure metaphysics are worthless, and all that is\nworth knowing is unknowable. When such laughable follies are\nseriously put forth and lauded to the skies as the sum of human\nwisdom in its most advanced stage of progress, and when the\nfanciful hypotheses of Darwin are vaunted as science by men who\nprofess to follow the inductive philosophy, it is the turn of the\nadvocates of revelation and the mysteries of the Catholic faith\nto cry out upon the outrage that is put upon reason, and to\nderide the credulity of those who can be duped by such crude\nabsurdities. Human reason and the mind of man are indeed\nextremely weak and fallible if the estimate of them made by these\nsceptical writers is to be taken as correct. Weak and fallible as\nthey are, and incapable of affirming anything in the order of\npure reason and objective reality, according to this humiliating\ntheory, yet nevertheless they can be forced to admit as much\nreality in the revealed truths of the Catholic faith as in\nanything else.\n{299}\nThe capacity of the mind to take note of particular facts and\nphenomena, and by induction to reduce these particulars to\ngeneral laws, and also the necessity of following practical\nreason as an actual guide, will be admitted even by the most\nextreme unbelievers. The facts and phenomena produced by the\naction of the Catholic Church on the human race, and by Jesus\nChrist himself in his life, death, and resurrection, as observed\nand attested by competent witnesses, just as much warrant us in\nmaking the induction that he is a superhuman intelligence, as all\nthe observations of astronomy warrant us in accepting the\nheliocentric theory of Copernicus. Practical reason tells us that\nthe religion of Jesus Christ as explained by the Catholic Church\nis good for mankind, and the safest rule we can follow. If,\ntherefore, we find probable evidence of the fact that Jesus\nChrist has taught certain doctrines through the church regarding\nthat sphere of the unknowable into which reason cannot penetrate,\nit would seem to be the dictate of good sense and of a right\nconscience that we should submit to that teaching. The power of\nobjecting to any doctrine that does not satisfy reason or\napparently contradicts it has been surrendered. Reason cannot\njudge of the unknowable. We have all the certainty that the case\nadmits of that Jesus Christ possesses a reason of higher order to\nwhich that which is unknowable to us is clearly intelligible, and\nthat he has declared to us the truth of these doctrines. We have,\nmoreover, evidence of his benevolence and veracity, and therefore\nall the motives which we are capable of appreciating combine to\ninduce us to give the same assent to his teaching that we do to\nany generally received truths. Even on this low level,\nChristianity and Catholicity can stand their ground far better\nthan any other subject of analytical investigation. It is true\nthat logically and philosophically we attain only to the apparent\nand the abstract truth of Christianity. But if the individual\nasserts for himself, or the Catholic Church asserts for herself,\na supernatural light, an illumination of the intellect giving\ncertainty, how can the allegation be refuted? How can any\nadvocate of the ignoramus theory show that, if we are naturally\nin such a deep darkness of the unknowable, it is not probable\nthat God would send a ray of supernatural light to enlighten us?\nThe natural outcry of one in such a state would be, \"O my God! if\nthere be a God, send the light of truth, if there is any truth,\nto enlighten my soul, if I have a soul!\"\n\nWe will leave, however, this soft and marshy ground to those who\nlike the prospect of fighting the enemies of Christianity in such\na region of swamps and sloughs. We retort the charge of ignoring\nor outraging reason upon our adversaries in a far different way.\nWe accuse them not only of rejecting revelation but of denying\nreason, and in their assault upon the supernatural order of\nsubverting the natural order upon which it is based. We affirm\nthat the Catholic Church not only protects revelation and grace,\nbut reason and nature, by the aegis of her authority against a\nuniversal doubt or denial. She affirms the existence of the\nspiritual, thinking, reasoning principle in man as a truth known\nwith infallible certainty by the very light of reason itself, and\ntherefore affirms the intrinsic infallibility of reason within\nits proper sphere. It is to reason that it appertains to judge of\nthe evidences of revelation. And although reason does not furnish\na positive criterion wherewith to judge the intrinsic credibility\nof mysteries transcending the grasp of reason, yet it is\nacknowledged by all theologians that it is competent to apply a\nnegative criterion and to reject whatever is proposed as a\nrevealed truth which is evidently or demonstrably contrary to the\nprinciples of reason or to certain facts.\n{300}\nWhere now does the collision exist between reason and faith,\nscience and revelation? Is the existence of God the point where\nreason is outraged? The advocates of the Catholic religion always\nprofess to demonstrate that truth from reason, and it can hardly\nbe pretended that their atheistical or pantheistical opponents\nhave ever thoroughly refuted their arguments or demonstrated a\ncontrary doctrine. The credibility of the divine revelation is\nalso proved by evidence and argument, and it is certainly rather\nbold to say that this entire fabric of learning and thought is so\npalpably weak as to be an outrage on reason. The institution,\nauthority, and infallibility of the Catholic Church are\nestablished in the same manner. And, although the mysteries of\nfaith are not demonstrated by their nexus with necessary\nmetaphysical truths, all the arguments brought from reason\nagainst them are repelled by similar arguments, and their harmony\nwith rational truths is shown in so far as reason partially\napprehends their relations. Wherein consists the palpable, open\ndenial of the rights of reason? Is it denied that God can make a\nrevelation of truths which surpass the grasp of reason, or that\nhe has done it, or that the church has authority to proclaim it?\nAt whatever point we are met by the accusation of professedly and\nopenly denying the rights of reason and imposing on it a tyranny,\nor stupefying it by a soporific drug, that accusation must be\nspecific and must be sustained by proofs. Vague assertions will\nnot do. Where are the self-evident or demonstrated truths, where\nare the undeniable, indubitable facts, which are contradicted by\nany dogma of the Catholic faith, or any definition which the\nsupreme authority in the church requires us to believe as an\ninfallible expression of the truth? Where is the flaw in the\nwhole structure of the Catholic argument? The advocates of the\nCatholic cause cannot desire anything more heartily than that the\nwhole subject should be brought to the test of the most stringent\nlogic, and that all the claims of the Catholic Church should be\nconfronted with the whole array of truths that can be\ndemonstrated by philosophy, and of facts that can be established\nby history or science.\n\n ----------\n\n{301}\n\n From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n Chapter IX.\n\nThe farm-house presented a bustling scene when Jean-Claude,\nDoctor Lorquin, and the others arrived. The kitchen-fire had been\nblazing since day-break, and old Duch\u00eane was drawing from the\noven innumerable loaves of bread, the fresh, crisp odor of which\nfilled the whole house. Annette piled them in heaps beside the\nhearth, Louise waited upon the guests, and Catherine saw to\neverything.\n\nHullin, from his seat, gazed at his old cousin.\n\n\"What a woman she is!\" he muttered. \"She forgets nothing.\nComrades,\" he exclaimed, \"to Catherine Lefevre's health!\"\n\n\"To Catherine's health!\" cried the others; and the glasses\nclinked in the midst of discussions on battles, attacks,\ndefences, and retreats. Every one was full of cheerful\nconfidence; every one declared that all would go well.\n\nBut heaven had still a joy reserved for that day--especially for\nLouise and Mother Lefevre. Toward noon, when the bright sunshine\nsparkled on the snow and melted the frost upon the window-panes,\nold _Yohan_, the toothless and almost blind watchdog, began\nto bay so joyously that all present stopped talking, and\nlistened.\n\n\"What can it mean?\" thought Catherine. \"Since my boy's departure\nYohan has not barked like that.\"\n\nSwift steps were heard crossing the yard; Louise sprang to the\ndoor; a soldier appeared on the threshold--but a soldier so\nworn, thin, weary, and ragged--his old grey great-coat so torn,\nhis canvas gaiters so tattered, that a murmur of pity ran from\nmouth to mouth.\n\nHe seemed unable to go a step further, and slowly placed the butt\nof his musket upon the ground; his face was the color of bronze,\nbut his unkempt moustaches trembled, his cheeks grew pale beneath\ntheir brown skin, and his hollow eyes filled with tears when he\ngazed on the party within.\n\nWithout, the old dog barked, whined, and tugged at his chain;\nwithin, you could hear the fire crackle in the deep silence. But\nin a moment Catherine had rushed forward, and was hanging upon\nthe soldier's neck.\n\n\"Gaspard! Gaspard! my boy!\" she cried, while the tears burst from\nher eyes.\n\n\"Yes, mother!\" he replied, in a voice choked by a sob.\n\nThen Louise sobbed too, and then the whole kitchen was filled\nwith voices. Gaspard's name was on every tongue, and every hand\nwas stretched forth to clasp his.\n\nBut the mother would not yet give up her son; the woman, a moment\nbefore so strong, so brave, so resolute, still hung weeping upon\nhis neck, his brown hair mingling with her grey locks, as he\nmurmured:\n\n\"Mother! mother! how often have I thought of this meeting! But\nwhere is Louise?\" he said. \"I thought I saw her.\"\n\nAnd then Louise ran forward, blushing, while she exclaimed:\n\n{302}\n\n\"I knew it was Gaspard! I knew him by his step!\" And old Duchene,\ntwirling his cotton cap in his hand, muttered:\n\n\"Great heaven Is that my poor child in such a plight?\"\n\nHe had taken care of Gaspard from infancy, and, since his\ndeparture, had always imagined him fresh and stout, in a fine\nblue uniform with red facings. He struggled to collect his ideas\nso rudely scattered.\n\nBut his friends surrounded the young soldier; his musket, his\nshako, his knapsack, and his belts were merrily captured, and at\nlast old Hullin cried, with moist eyes:\n\n\"Poor Gaspard! How glad I am to see you safe and sound! Ha! ha!\"\nhe continued, trying hard to laugh, \"I would rather, though, see\nyou as you are than with the fat, round cheeks you took away with\nyou. You are a man now; you remind me of the old days of the\nSambre and of Egypt. Ha! ha! ha! our noses were sharp enough\nthen, my boy; and our teeth were long and sharp too.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes; I know what that means, Father Jean-Claude; but let us\nsit down and talk. What is going on? What brings you all to the\nfarm?\"\n\n\"Have you not heard? All the country is in arms, from La Houpe to\nSaint-Sauveur, and I am commander-in-chief.\"\n\n\"Hurrah! Then the Kaiserlik beggars sha'n't find a road here so\neasily. But pass me the knife. That ham is not yet finished. Sit\nby me, Louise, and help me to the bread. A few days like this\nwould soon make my bones grow smaller. They wouldn't know me in\nthe company.\"\n\nAll wondered at the speed with which the provisions disappeared.\nThe soldier's eyes often turned to his mother and Louise, and he\nsmiled sadly as he gazed upon them; but all this was without\nlosing time in his attack. The poor fellow was well-nigh\nfamished, and old Duchene muttered, as he looked at him:\n\n\"Great heaven! No wonder that so many die of want!\"\n\n\"But tell us, Gaspard,\" said Hullin, \"without interrupting your\nbreakfast, how comes it that you are here? We thought you on the\nbanks of the Rhine, near Strasbourg.\"\n\n\"Aha! I understand you,\" replied Gaspard, with a knowing wink of\nthe eye; \"you mean that there are a good many deserters running\nabout, don't you?\"\n\n\"Such an idea in regard to you never struck me, and yet--\"\n\n\"You would not be sorry to know that I am all right. Well, Father\nJean-Claude, you are right; for whoever runs from roll-call when\nthe Kaiserliks are in France, deserves to be shot. But look\nhere.\"\n\nHullin took a paper which the young man held out to him and read:\n\n \"Twenty-four hours' leave is given\n to the grenadier Gaspard Lefevre.\n January 3d, 1814.\n Gemeau,\n Chief of Battalion.\"\n\n\"Very good,\" said the old man; \"put it in your knapsack; you\nmight lose it. You see, my friends,\" he continued gayly, \"I know\nall about this thing called love. It is very good and very bad,\nbut particularly bad for young soldiers who happen to be near\ntheir village after a campaign. They sometimes forget themselves\nand return to camp with three or four gendarmes showing them the\nway. I have seen it once or twice. But, now, as everything is in\norder, let us drink a glass to Gaspard's health. What say you,\nCatherine? The men from the Sarre may be here any moment, so we\nhave no time to lose.\"\n\n{303}\n\n\"You are right, Jean-Claude,\" replied the old woman sadly.\n\"Annette, go to the cellar and bring three bottles here! But your\nleave, Gaspard,\" she asked; \"how long does it last?\"\n\n\"I received it last night at eight o'clock at Vasselonne. The\nregiment is retreating on Lorraine, and I must rejoin it this\nevening at Phalsbourg.\"\n\n\"Then you have yet seven hours before you; you will only need six\nto reach there, although there is much snow on Foxthal.\"\n\nThe good woman sat by her son; her heart beat painfully; she\ncould not conceal her trouble. Louise leaned on Gaspard's\nworn-out epaulette and sobbed. Hullin bent his brows, but said\nnothing until the bottles arrived and the glasses were filled.\n\n\"Come, come, Louise!\" he cried, \"Courage! These wars cannot last\nfor ever; they must end one way or the other; and then Gaspard\nwill return, and we shall have a merry wedding of it.\"\n\nHe filled up the glasses, and Catherine dried her eyes,\nmuttering, however, as she did so:\n\n\"And to think that those robbers are the cause of all this! But\nlet them come! They will rue it.\"\n\nThe old wine, however, cheered all, and Gaspard told the story of\nBautzen, Lutzen, Leipsic, and Hanau, where conscripts fought like\nveterans, winning victory after victory until treason ruined all.\n\nEvery one listened in silence. Jean-Claude's eyes flashed as he\nheard how rivers were forded and crossed amid storms of shells\nand bullets; how batteries were carried by the bayonet alone; and\nhow hussars and cossacks were hurled back from the steady\nsquares. The doctor inquired particularly about the positions of\nthe field-hospitals; Materne and his sons bent forward with ears\nerect, and lips pressed tight together, fearing to lose a word;\nCatherine looked with pride upon a son who had borne a part in\nscenes over which ages will grieve or rejoice; and the ardor of\nall present mounted to the highest pitch as more than one\nmuttered that the end was not yet.\n\nAt length the hour for Gaspard's departure arrived. He arose, but\nwhen Louise clung to his neck and with sobs implored him to stay,\nthe color left his cheeks.\n\n\"I am a soldier,\" he said; \"my name is Gaspard Lefevre; I love\nthee a thousand times better than my life; but I must not\ndisgrace that name.\"\n\nHe unclasped her arms, and Hullin tore them apart.\n\n\"Well said!\" cried the old sabot-maker; \"and spoken as a man\nshould speak.\"\n\nCatherine buckled the knapsack on her son's back; she did so\ncalmly, but her brows were knitted, and she tried hard to press\nher quivering lips tightly together, while two great tears rolled\ndown her wrinkled cheeks.\n\n\"Go--go--my child,\" she sobbed, \"and take your mother's blessing\nwith you, and if it should be the will of God that--that--\"\n\nBut the poor woman's stout heart could sustain her no longer; she\nburst into an agony of weeping. Gaspard seized his musket, and,\ncovering his eyes with his hand, rushed from the house.\n\nAll this while the men from the Sarre with picks and their axes\nwere making their way up along the Valtin path. The sounds of\ntheir voices could already be heard, as they laughed and jested\nas if on the way to a festival, and not to privation, danger, and\ndeath.\n\n{304}\n\n Chapter x.\n\nBut while Hullin and his mountaineers were thus preparing for\nbattle, where was the tin-crowned King of Diamonds--Yegof the\nFool? Wandering barefoot over the snow-covered paths, his breast\nopen to the cutting winds, cold, hungry, and companionless, save\nfor his grim friend the raven.\n\nNight was approaching, the cold growing keener and keener; even\nthe fox seemed to shiver as he pursued his unseen prey, and the\nfamished birds of prey had hidden themselves in the rocky nooks\nof the mountains. But the fool, his raven upon his shoulder, kept\non--on--talking to himself, gesticulating wildly, from\nHolderloch to Sonneberg, from Sonneberg to Blutfeld.\n\nAnd that very night, Robin, the old herdsman of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes,\nsaw a strange and fearful sight.\n\nA few days before, having been surprised by the snows at the\nbottom of the gorge of Blutfeld, he left his wagon behind him and\ndrove home the cattle, but finding upon his arrival that he had\nforgotten his sheep-skin cloak, he started at about four o'clock\nthat evening to seek it.\n\nBlutfeld is a narrow gorge between Schneeberg and Grosmann,\nbordered by pointed rocks. A thread of water winds its way\nthrough the valley, in summer and winter, and on its sides, among\nthe grey rocks, spots of good pasturage are found: but the place\nis rarely visited; something weird and ghostly seems to hang over\nit, and the cold, white light of a winter's moon serves to\nintensify its sinister aspect. Tradition says that here was\nfought a great battle between the Triboci and the Germans, who,\nunder a chief named Luitprandt, attempted to penetrate into Gaul.\nIt tells how the Triboci from the peaks around flung huge stones\nupon their foes, crushing them by thousands, and that from the\nfrightful carnage the defile derived its name--Blutfeld the field\nof blood. Rusted spearheads, broken helmets, and cross-handled\nswords two ells in length are yet found there.\n\nAt night, when the moonlight falls upon the snow-covered rocks,\nwhen the wind whistles through the bare bushes, the cries of the\nsurprised Germans seem borne upon the air, mingled with the\nwailing of their women and the neighing of steeds, and the\nrattling of chariots through the defile. The Triboci ceased not\nfrom the slaughter for two entire days, and on the third they\nretired to their homes, every man bending beneath the weight of\nhis booty.\n\nSuch was the legend of the gorge which Robin reached just as the\nmoon was rising.\n\nThe good man had a hundred times descended to its depths, but\nnever had it seemed so bright or so ghastly. His wagon, at the\nbottom, seemed one of those masses of rock under which the\ninvaders were crushed. It stood at the entrance of the valley,\nbehind a thick clump of bushes, and the little stream dashed\nalong by it, flashing like a thousand swords. The old herdsman\nsoon found his cloak and an old hatchet too, which he had\nregarded as lost; but, when he turned to depart, his blood ran\ncold.\n\nA tall figure was advancing straight toward him. Behind it\nfollowed five grey wolves, two full-grown and three young. He\nrecognized Yegof, and at first thought the wolves were dogs. They\nfollowed the fool step by step, but he seemed not to see them;\nhis raven flew about, now in the clear moonlight, now in the dark\nshadows of the rocks; the wolves, with glittering eyes, sniffed\nthe air as if scenting their prey. The fool lifted his sceptre.\n\n{305}\n\nRobin darted like a flash into his wagon unobserved. Yegof\nadvanced down the valley as if walking some great castle-hall,\nand the raven with glittering black plumage flew to the branch of\na dead tree near by, and there perched, and seemed to listen.\n\nIt was a strange scene, Robin thought. If the fool slipped, if he\nfell, there was an end of him; the wolves would instantly devour\nhim.\n\nBut in the middle of the gorge, Yegof turned and sat down upon a\nstone, and the five wolves sat around him in the snow.\n\nThen the fool, raising his sceptre, addressed them, calling each\none by name, and they replied with mournful howlings.\n\n\"Ha, child, Bl\u00e9ed, Merweg, and you, my old Siramar,\" he cried,\n\"here we are once more together! You have grown fat; you have had\ngood cheer in Germany, have you not?\"\n\nStretching his arm, after a moment's pause, over the moonlit\nvalley, he continued:\n\n\"Remember ye not the great battle?\"\n\nOne of the wolves howled plaintively as if in reply; then\nanother, and at last all five together.\n\nThis lasted full ten minutes, the raven the while sitting\nmotionless on its withered branch. Robin would have fled, but\ndared not.\n\nStill the wolves howled, and the echoes of Blutfeld replied to\ntheir chorus, until at last the largest ceased, and the rest\nfollowed his example. Yegof spoke again:\n\n\"Ay; 'tis a sorrowful story. There runs the stream that\noverflowed with our blood; but others fell too, and for three\ndays and three nights their women tore their hair. But how the\naccursed dogs triumphed in their victory!\"\n\nThe fool seized his crown and dashed it upon the ground; then,\nsighing, stooped and placed it again upon his head. The wolves\nsat as if listening attentively, and the largest again howled\nmournfully.\n\n\"Thou art hungry, Siramar,\" said Yegof, as if replying to him;\n\"but rejoice; flesh will soon be yours in plenty; the battle will\nagain be fought. Our war-cry was long hushed, but the hour is\nnear, and it will again shake these mountains, and you shall\nagain be warriors; you shall again own these valleys. The air is\nfull of the shrieks of women, of the flashing of swords, the\ncreaking of wagons. They rushed down upon us and we were\nsurrounded; your bones sleep here on every side, but your\nchildren are coming; rejoice!' sing, sing!\"\n\nAnd he himself began to howl like a wolf, and his hearers took up\nthe savage strain.\n\nThese cries, growing every moment more horrible, the\nreverberating echoes, the motionless rocks, white and ghastly, or\nburied in blackness and gloom, the bare branches bending beneath\ntheir load of snow--all filled the old herdsman with speechless\nhorror.\n\nBut the scene soon ended. Yegof spoke no more, but moved slowly\nwith his strange train toward Hazlach, and the raven, uttering a\nhoarse cry, spread its sable wings and followed through the dark\nblue air.\n\nAll disappeared like a dream, but for a long time Robin could\nhear the howling growing fainter and further away. It had,\nhowever, ceased for nearly half an hour, and the silence of a\nwinter night taken its place, before the good man dared leave his\nwagon, and make at his best speed for the farm-house.\n\n{306}\n\nArriving at Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes he found every one excited and busy.\nThey were about killing an ox for the Donon men, and Hullin,\nDoctor Lorquin, and Louise had departed with those from the\nSarre. Catherine was having her great four-horse wagon loaded\nwith bread, meat, and brandy, and all were busy in the\npreparations.\n\nRobin would not tell any one of his adventure. It seemed, even to\nhimself, so incredible that he dared not speak of it. The whole\naffair puzzled him sorely, and it was not until he was lying in\nhis crib in the stable that he concluded that Yegof had some time\nor other captured and tamed a litter of wolves, to whom he\nuttered his folly as men sometimes speak to their dogs; but the\nrencounter left a superstitious dread in his mind, and even years\nafter, the honest old man could not speak of it without a\nshudder.\n\n\n Chapter XI.\n\nAll Hullin's orders had been carried out. The defiles of Zorn and\nof the Sarre were securely guarded, and that of Blanru, the\nextreme point of their position, had been placed in a state of\ndefence by Jean-Claude himself and the three hundred men who\nformed his principal force.\n\nThither, on the eastern slope of Donon, near Grandfontaine, must\nwe wend our way.\n\nAbove the main road, which winds up the mountain for two thirds\nof its height, might be seen a farm-house, surrounded by a few\nacres of cultivated land--a large flat-roofed building, belonging\nto Pelsly, the Anabaptist. The stables and barn were behind,\ntoward the summit of the mountain.\n\nHere was the camp of our partisans. Beneath them lay\nGrandfontaine and Framont, locked in a narrow ravine; further on,\nat a turn of the valley, was Shirmeck, with its piles of feudal\nruins; still further La Bruche stretched onward into the grey\nmists of Alsace. To their left rose the sterile peak of Donon,\ncovered with huge rocks and a few stunted firs. Before them lay\nthe road, made impassable by the wearing away of the earth caused\nby the melting snow, and by huge trees, with all their branches\non, thrown across it.\n\nIt was a scene of stern grandeur. Not a living thing appeared on\nall the long road; the country seemed a desert, and only a few\nscattered fires, sending their long wreaths of smoke toward the\nsky, showed the position of the bivouac.\n\nFor three days had the mountaineers been awaiting the enemy, and\nthe delay had told not a little upon their ardor. When,\ntherefore, at about eight in the morning, the sentinels descried\na man coming toward them, waving his hat, expectation at once\nstood on tiptoe, and messengers were at once despatched for\nHullin, who since one o'clock had been sleeping in the\nfarm-house, on a wide mattress, side by side with Doctor Lorquin\nand his dog Pluto.\n\nThe cause of the commotion was Nickel Bentz, the old forester of\nLa Houpe, and Hullin at once saluted him with--\n\n\"Well, Nickel, what tidings?\"\n\n\"Nothing, master Jean-Claude, save that toward Phalsbourg there\nis a noise as of a storm. Labarbe says it is artillery; for all\nnight long we saw flashes like lightning in the wood of\nHildehouse, and this morning the plain is covered with grey\nclouds.\"\n\n\"The city is attacked!\" exclaimed Hullin; \"but from the\nLutzelstein side. They are trying to cut it off. The allies are\nthere; Alsace is overrun.\"\n\n{307}\n\nThen turning to Materne, who stood behind him, he added,\n\n\"We can remain no longer in uncertainty. Make a reconnoissance\nwith your two sons.\"\n\nThe old hunter's face lighted up.\n\n\"Good!\" he cried. \"We will have a chance to stretch our legs and\nbring down an Austrian or Cossack or two before we return.\"\n\n\"Steady, my friend,\" said Jean-Claude sternly; \"you must not\nthink of bringing down Cossacks, but only of observing what is\ngoing on. Frantz and Kasper will be armed, but you will leave\nyour rifle, and powder-horn, and hunting-knife here.\"\n\n\"Leave my arms here, Jean-Claude! And why?\"\n\n\"Because you must go into the villages; and if you are caught\nthere armed, you would be shot at once.\"\n\n\"Shot?\"\n\n\"Yes, shot. We are not regular troops; they will not make\nprisoners of us; we can expect no quarter. You will follow the\nShirmeck road, and your sons will follow you in the copse, half a\nrifle-shot off. If any marauders should attack you, they will\ncome to your aid; but if a detachment meet you, they will let you\nbe taken.\"\n\n\"Let me be taken!\" cried the old man indignantly. \"I would like\nto see them do so.\"\n\n\"Obey orders, Materne. An unarmed man will be released; an armed\none shot. I need not tell you not to let those Germans know you\ncome as a spy.\"\n\n\"I understand, Jean-Claude, and although I never parted yet with\nmy rifle, you may take it, and my horn and knife. Who will lend\nme a blouse and staff?\"\n\nNickel Bentz pulled off his blue smock-frock and hat, and passed\nthem to the old man; and when he had donned them, no one would\nimagine the old hunter to be other than a simple peasant of the\nmountains.\n\nHis two sons, proud to be selected for such an expedition,\nreprimed their pieces, fixed their long, straight, wild-boar\nbayonets, and tried their hunting-knives in the sheaths; then,\nassured that everything was in proper order, they turned to go,\ntheir eyes sparkling with pleasure.\n\n\"Do not forget Jean-Claude's words,\" said Doctor Lorquin; \"a\nGerman more or less makes little difference among a hundred\nthousand, but we should find it difficult to replace you.\"\n\n\"Fear nothing, doctor,\" replied old Materne. \"My boys are\nhunters, and know how to bide their time, and profit by any\nchance that offers. And now, forward; we must be back before\nnight.\"\n\n\n Chapter XII.\n\nMaterne and his sons pursued their way for a long distance in\nsilence. The weather was fine; the winter sun shone on the\ndazzling snow without thawing it, so that the path was firm and\nsolid. Afar off, in the valley, the tall firs, pointed rocks, and\nthe roofs of the houses, with their hanging icicles and little\nglittering windows and steep gables, were sharply outlined in the\nclear air, and in the street of Grandfontaine they could see a\ntroop of young girls around the wash-house, and a few old men in\ncotton caps smoking their pipes at their cottage doors; but of\nall the busy life so plainly seen, not a sound reached their\nears.\n\nThe old hunter halted at the edge of the wood, saying:\n\n\"I will go down to the village, to Dubreuil's, the keeper of the\nPine-Cone.\"\n\nHe pointed with his staff to a long white building, with doors\nand windows surrounded by a yellow border, and a pine branch\nhanging from the wall by way of sign.\n\n{308}\n\n\"Wait for me here,\" said the old man, \"unless I come to the door\nand raise my hat, when you may follow, and take a glass of wine\nwith me.\"\n\nHe descended the snow-covered mountain-side, gained the plain,\nand crossed the village common, and his two boys, resting upon\ntheir pieces, saw him enter the inn. A few moments after, he\nreappeared on the threshold and raised his hat. Fifteen minutes\nafter, they had rejoined their father in the large hall of the\nPine-Cone--a long, low room, warmed by a huge stove on the sanded\nfloor.\n\nExcept for the presence of the innkeeper, Dubreuil, the fattest\nand most apoplectic man in the Vosges, with little round eyes, a\nflat nose, and a triple chin falling upon his breast--except, I\nsay, for the presence of this redoubtable personage, who was\nsitting in a large arm-chair near the fire, Materne found himself\nalone when he entered the inn. He ordered the glasses filled as\nthe old clock struck nine, and the wooden cock upon it flapped\nhis wings with a strange rusty noise.\n\n\"Good morning, Father Dubreuil!\" said both the young men.\n\n\"Good morning, my boys, good morning!\" replied the inn-keeper, in\nan oily voice, smiling an oily smile. \"Any news?\"\n\n\"No, faith,\" answered Kasper. \"Winter is upon us, the season for\nboar-hunting.\"\n\nThen both, placing their rifles in a corner of the window, at\nhand in case of need, sat down at a table opposite their father,\nand drank, saying. \"To our health!\" as they had been taught to be\nalways careful to do.\n\n\"So,\" said Materne, turning to the innkeeper, and apparently\nresuming a conversation that had been interrupted, \"you think,\nFather Dubreuil, that we may hunt without fear in the wood of\nBaronies?\"\n\n\"Oh! as for that I can't say,\" replied mine host, shrugging his\nshoulders; \"I only know that at present the Allies have not got\nbeyond Mutzig. But they don't injure any one; but receive all\nwell-disposed people--who wish to fight the usurper.\"\n\n\"The usurper? Who is that?\"\n\n\"Eh? Why, Napoleon Bonaparte, the usurper, to be sure. Look on\nthe wall there.\"\n\nHe pointed to a large placard hanging near the clock.\n\n\"Look there, and you will see that the Austrians are our true\nfriends.\"\n\nOld Materne's brows knitted, but he repressed his feelings, and\nsaid,\n\n\"But I cannot read, Monsieur Dubreuil, nor my boys. Explain the\nmatter to us.\"\n\nThen the old publican, raising himself with much difficulty from\nhis armchair, and puffing like a porpoise with the unwonted\nexertion, placed himself before the placard, with his arms folded\nacross his enormous breast, and in a majestic tone read a\nproclamation of the allied sovereigns setting forth that they,\nsaid sovereigns, were waging war against Napoleon and not against\nFrance, and that, consequently, it behoved all good people to\nremain at home and to mind their own business, under pain of\nhaving their houses, goods, and chattels pillaged and burnt, and\nthemselves shot.\n\nThe three hunters listened to all this, and then looked at each\nother.\n\nWhen Dubreuil had finished reading, he again took his seat,\nsaying,\n\n\"Well, you see now, do you not?\"\n\n\"Where did you get that?\" asked Kasper.\n\n\"It is posted everywhere.\"\n\n\"We are glad to hear it,\" said Materne, pressing the arm of\nFrantz, who had risen with flaming eyes. \"Do you want some fire,\nFrantz? Here is my steel.\"\n\n{309}\n\nFrantz sat down, and the old man proceeded good-humoredly,\n\n\"And so, our good friends, the Austrians, will take nothing from\nus?\"\n\n\"Well-disposed people have nothing to fear, but those who rise in\narms are stripped of everything; which is only right, for it is\nnot just that the good should suffer for the bad. Thus, for\ninstance, you would be very well received at the allied\nheadquarters; you know the country and could serve as guides, for\nwhich you would be well paid.\"\n\nThere was a moment of silence; again the three hunters gazed at\neach other; the father placed his hands upon the table, as if\nbeseeching his sons to remain calm, but he himself was pale with\nrage.\n\nThe innkeeper, perceiving nothing of this, continued,\n\n\"You have more reason to fear in the woods of Baronies those\nvillains of Dagsberg, of the Sarre, and of Blanru, who have\nrevolted, and wish to commence '93 over again.\"\n\n\"Are you sure they have?\" asked Materne, struggling hard to\ncontain himself.\n\n\"Am I sure? You have only to look out the window and you will see\nthem on the Donon road. They have captured the Anabaptist,\nPelsly, and bound him to the foot of his bed; they are pillaging,\nstealing, destroying the roads; but let them beware! In a few\ndays they will have their hands full, and it is not with a\nthousand, or ten thousand, men they will have to deal, but with\nhundreds of thousands. They will all be hung.\"\n\nMaterne arose.\n\n\"It is time for us to be on our way,\" said he shortly. \"By two\no'clock we must be in the woods. Farewell, Father Dubreuil.\"\n\nAll three rushed out, anger choking them.\n\n\"Reflect well upon what I told you,\" cried the innkeeper, from\nhis arm-chair.\n\nOnce without, Materne turned with quivering lips, and cried,\n\n\"If I had not restrained myself, I would have broken the bottle\nover his head.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said Frantz, \"would have thrust my bayonet through his\nbody.\"\n\nKasper still stood at the threshold, hesitating. His fingers\nclutched the hilt of his hunting-knife, and his eyes were almost\nsavage in their glare; but the old man seized him by the arm and\ndragged him away, saying:\n\n\"Away! We will meet the wretch again. To advise me to betray my\ncountry! Hullin said well when he told us to be on our guard.\"\n\nThey passed down the street gazing fiercely around.\n\nAt the end of the village, opposite the ancient cross, and near\nthe church, they halted. Materne then, somewhat calmed, showed\nhis sons the path which winds around Phr\u00e2mond, through the\nbushes, and said:\n\n\"You will take that foot-path. I will follow the road to\nSchirmeck, going slowly, so that you may get there as soon as I.\"\n\nThey separated, and the old hunter walked thoughtfully on, his\nhead bowed, and his eyes fixed upon the ground, wondering all the\nwhile how he managed to restrain himself from breaking the\ninn-keeper's head. From time to time herds of cattle passed him,\nand flocks of sheep and goats, all on their way to the mountain.\nThey came from Wisch, from Urmatt, and even from Mutzig, and the\npoor animals seemed scarcely able to move.\n\n\"Where are you going so fast?\" cried the old hunter to the\nsad-looking herdsmen. \"Have you not heard the proclamation of the\nRussians and Austrians?\"\n\n{310}\n\nBut they seemed in no humor for jesting, and replied:\n\n\"It is easy for you to laugh at us. Proclamations indeed! We know\nwhat they are worth. Those Russians and Austrians are pillaging\nand stealing all they can lay hands on; laying forced\ncontributions, carrying off horses, cows, cattle, wagons.\"\n\n\"Hold there; it cannot be possible!\" returned Materne. \"They are\nthe saviours of France; her brave, good friends. I cannot believe\nit. Such a beautiful proclamation!\" \"Go down into Alsace and\nsee!\" The poor fellows went on, dragging themselves wearily\nalong, while the old hunter laughed bitterly.\n\nAs he approached Schirmeck, things grew worse. Wagons, cattle,\nhorses, even flocks of geese, thronged the road, mingled with\nwomen and children, carrying whatever of their household effects\nthey could bear off, and often beating their breasts and tearing\ntheir hair. The air was filled with wailing and lamentation,\nwhile ever and anon a cry arose,\n\n\"We are lost! The Cossacks! the Cossacks!\"\n\nThese words of fear passed like lightning through the mass; women\nfainted, children stood up in the wagons to see further along the\nroad, and Materne blushed for the cowardice of people who might\nhave made a stout defence against the enemy.\n\nJust outside Schirmeck, Frantz and Kasper rejoined their father,\nand all three entered the tavern of the Golden Key, kept by the\nwidow Faltaux.\n\nThe poor woman and her two daughters were standing at the window\ngazing at the flight, and wringing their hands; for indeed the\ntumult was increasing every moment, and now cattle, men, and\nwagons fairly blocked the street, and shouts, screams, and even\ncurses, arose on all sides.\n\nMaterne pushing open the door and seeing the three women standing\npale, groaning, more dead than alive, struck his staff angrily\nupon the floor, and cried:\n\n\"Are you becoming mad, Mother Faltaux! You, who should set your\ndaughters a good example? It is shameful!\"\n\nThe old woman turned round and replied in a heart-broken voice:\n\n\"Ah Materne! If you only knew--\"\n\n\"Knew what? The enemy are coming, but they won't eat you.\"\n\n\"No, but they will devour all I have! Old Ursula, of Schlestadt,\narrived here last night, and says they are never satisfied. Ah!\nthose Russians and Austrians--\"\n\n\"But where are they?\" cried the old hunter. \"I have not yet seen\none.\"\n\n\"They are in Alsace, near Urmatt, on their way hither.\"\n\n\"Well,\" observed Kasper, \"before they arrive you may give us a\ncup of wine; here is a crown for you; you can hide it more easily\nthan your casks.\"\n\nOne of the daughters went to the cellar to bring the refreshment,\nand at the same time several strangers entered. One was a seller\nof almanacs, from Strasbourg; the others were a wagoner from\nSarrebr\u00fcck, and two or three people from Mutzig, Wisch, and\nShirmeck, who were flying with their cattle: all seemed\ncompletely jaded.\n\nThey sat down at the same table, opposite the windows, so that\nthey might look out upon the road, and, the wine served, each\nbegan to tell all he knew. One said that the Cossacks had fired a\nvillage in Alsace, because candles were refused them for dessert\nafter dinner; another that the Calmucks ate soap for cheese, and\nthat many of them drank brandy by the pint, after putting\nhandfuls of pepper in it; that their filthiness was beyond\ndescription; and that everything had to be hidden from them, for\nthat there was nothing they would not devour. The stories these\ngood people told, of what they had seen with their own eyes,\nseemed almost incredible.\n\n{311}\n\nToward noon, the old hunter and his sons rose to depart, when\nsuddenly a cry, louder than any they had yet heard, arose\nwithout,\n\n\"The Cossacks! The Cossacks!\"\n\nThe entire party rushed to the door, except the three hunters,\nwho contented themselves with opening a window and looking out.\nEvery one was now fleeing across the fields; men, flocks, and\nwagons were scattering, like autumn leaves before the wind. In\nless than five minutes the road was clear, except in the village\nstreet, where the crowd was jammed and blocked by its mass.\nMaterne gazed for a while and then shut the window.\n\n\"I see nothing,\" he said.\n\n\"Nor I,\" replied Kasper.\n\n\"I see how it is,\" cried the old hunter; \"fear adds to the\nenemy's strength; and fear,\" he added, shrugging his shoulders\ndisdainfully, \"is a miserable thing. We have only one poor life\nto lose. Let us go.\"\n\nThey left the inn, the old man taking the road to the top of\nHirschberg, his sons following. They soon reached the edge of the\nwoods, and Materne sought the highest point, whence he might\nobtain a view of the plain; for he utterly despised the wild\ntales of the fugitives he had met.\n\nWhen they reached the summit of the mountain--which forms a sort\nof promontory extending into the plain--they could see distinctly\nthe enemy's position, three leagues away, between Urmatt and\nLutzelhouse, like long black lines upon the snow; further on, the\nartillery and baggage appeared in dark masses. Other lines and\nmasses were winding among the villages, and, notwithstanding the\ndistance, the flashing of bayonets told that a column was on the\nmarch to Wisch.\n\nAfter long gazing at the picture before him, the old hunter said\nthoughtfully:\n\n\"There are at least thirty thousand men yonder. They are\nadvancing toward us, and we shall be assailed to-morrow, or the\nday after at the latest. It will be no holiday work to check\nthem, my boys; but if they have numbers, we have a good position,\nand in such masses as those there will be no balls lost.\"\n\nHaving made these reflections, he measured the height of the sun,\nand added:\n\n\"It is now two o'clock, and we know all we want to know. Let us\nreturn to the bivouac.\"\n\nThe young men slung their rifles upon their backs, and, leaving\nthe valley of the Broque to the left, they pushed up the steep\nascent of Hengsbach and descended on the further side, without\nfollowing any path through the snow, but guiding themselves\nsolely by the peaks, to cut short their journey.\n\nThey had thus proceeded for about two hours; the winter sun was\ndrooping to the horizon, and night was fast approaching, but calm\nand light. They had only to cross the solitary gorge of Riel,\nwhich forms a wide circular basin in the midst of the forest,\nenclosing a blue lake, often the resort of the roebuck.\n\nSuddenly, as they left the cover of the trees, the old man\nstopped short behind a clump of bushes.\n\n\"Hist!\"\n\n{312}\n\nHe pointed to the little lake, which was covered with a thin and\ntransparent coating of ice. A strange spectacle greeted their\neyes. Twenty Cossacks, with matted yellow beards, heads covered\nwith old funnel-shaped caps of the skin of some animal, and long\nragged cloaks hanging from their shoulders, were before them,\nseated on their little horses. Their stirrups were simply looped\nropes, and the steeds, with long manes, thin tails, and flanks\nmatted with yellow, black, and white, looked not unlike goats.\nSome of the riders were armed only with long lances, others with\nsabres, others with merely a hatchet hanging by a cord from their\nsaddle, and a large horse-pistol in their belt. Some gazed with\necstasy upon the lines of green firs, and one tall, lean fellow\nwas breaking the ice with the butt of his spear, while his horse\ndrank. Others dismounted, and began to remove the snow\npreparatory to encamping.\n\nThey formed a singular picture--those men from afar, with their\nbronzed features, flat foreheads and noses, and grey fluttering\nrags, as they stood by the side of the lake under the tall\ntree-covered crags. It seemed a glimpse of another world than the\none we live in, and as the three hunters gazed and caught the\nsounds of their uncouth speech, curiosity for a while mastered\nall other feelings. But Kasper and Frantz soon fixed their long\nbayonets on their rifles and retired once more into the cover of\nthe woods. They reached a rock some twenty feet high, which\nMaterne climbed; then, after a few words exchanged in a low\nvoice, Kasper examined his priming, slowly brought his piece to\nhis shoulder, and aimed, while his brother stood by ready to\nfollow his example.\n\nThe Cossack whose horse was drinking was about two hundred paces\nfrom our little party. The report of the rifle rang through the\nforest and awoke the deep echoes of the gorge, and the horseman\nbent forward and disappeared beneath the ice of the lake.\n\nIt would be impossible to describe the stupefaction which seemed\nto seize the band. The echoes rolled like a volley of musketry;\nthe dismounted barbarians bounded on their steeds, gazing wildly\naround, while a thick wreath of smoke rolled above the clump of\ntrees behind which the hunters stood.\n\nKasper had in a moment reloaded, but at the same instant the\nCossacks dashed toward the slope of Hartz, following in single\nfile and shouting savagely, \"Hurrah! Hurrah!\"\n\nThey disappeared like a flash, and as Kasper aimed again the last\nhorse disappeared in the woods.\n\nThe steed of the dead Cossack stood alone by the lake. His fallen\nmaster's foot yet remained in the stirrup, although the body was\nsubmerged in the water.\n\nMaterne listened on his rock, and then said joyfully:\n\n\"They are gone! Let us press on. Frantz, remain here for a while.\nIf any should return--\"\n\nBut despite this direction all three ran to where the horse yet\nstood, and Materne, seizing the animal's bridle, cried:\n\n\"Now, old fellow, we will teach thee to speak French. These\nCossacks have famous horses, my boys,\" he continued, \"and when I\nam too old to go afoot, I will keep this one to hunt with.\"\n\n\"Let us go,\" cried Kasper.\n\nToward six o'clock they heard the first challenge of their\nsentinels:\n\n\"Who goes there?\"\n\n\"France!\" answered Materne, advancing.\n\n{313}\n\nHe was soon recognized, and all rushed forth to meet the three\nhunters. Hullin himself, as curious as the rest, came out with\nDoctor Lorquin. The partisans stood around the horse, gazing with\nlooks of wonder and admiration.\n\n\"It is a Cossack's,\" said Hullin, squeezing his old friend's\nhand.\n\n\"Yes, Jean-Claude; we captured it at the pond of Riel. Kasper\nshot its master.\"\n\nKasper, leaning upon his rifle, seemed well pleased with his\nprize, and old Materne, rubbing his hands, added:\n\n\"We were determined to bring something back with us, for my boys\nand I never return empty-handed.\"\n\nHullin took him aside, and they entered the farm-house together,\nwhile the young hunters gratified the curiosity of their\ncomrades.\n\n\n Chapter XIII.\n\nThat whole night long the little farm of the Anabaptist was\nfilled with partisans going and coming.\n\nHullin had established his headquarters in the large hall of the\nground floor of the house; on this floor, too, was the hospital,\nand the farm people occupied the upper stories.\n\nAlthough the night was calm and innumerable stars shone in the\nsky, the cold was so keen that the frost seemed almost an inch\nthick upon the window-panes.\n\nWithout, the cry of \"Who goes there?\" occasionally broke the\nstillness, while ever and anon the howling of wolves was borne on\nthe air from the neighboring peaks; for since 1812 wolves had\nfollowed our armies by hundreds, and now, stretched on the snow,\ntheir pointed muzzles between their fore-paws, they called from\nGrosmann to Donon, and from Donon to Grosmann, until the breeze\nseemed filled with their plaintive cries. More than one\nmountaineer grew pale as he listened to them, and muttered:\n\n\"It is the song of death; he scents the battle from afar, and\ncalls us to follow him.\"\n\nThen the cattle lowed in their stables, and the horses neighed\nwith affright.\n\nSome thirty fires were burning on the plateau where was the camp;\nthe old Anabaptist's wood-pile had paid tribute, and log after\nlog was heaped on; but though the face might scorch, the back\nquivered with the cold, and frost hung from the beards and\nmoustaches of those who stood warming their backs.\n\nHullin, in the house, sat before the great fir table, absorbed in\nthought. From the latest reports he had received, he was\nconvinced that the first attack would be made the next day. He\nhad had cartridges distributed, had doubled the sentries, ordered\npatrols through the mountain, and fixed the posts of all along\nthe abatis. He had also caused Piorette, Jerome of Saint-Quirin,\nand Labarbe to send their best marksmen to him.\n\nThe hall where he sat was lit by a dim lantern, and full of snow;\nand every moment his officers came and went, their hats drawn far\ndown over their heads, and icicles hanging from their beards.\n\n\"Master Jean-Claude, something is moving near Grandfontaine; we\ncan hear horses galloping.\"\n\n\"Master Jean-Claude, the brandy is frozen.\"\n\n\"Master Jean-Claude, many of the men are without powder.\"\n\nSuch were the reports and complaints that every moment assailed\nthe leader's ears.\n\n\"Watch well toward Grandfontaine and change the sentries on that\nside every half-hour.\"\n\n\"Thaw the brandy at the fires.\"\n\n{314}\n\n\"Wait until Dives comes; he has ammunition. Distribute what\ncartridges remain, and let all who have more than twenty rounds\ndivide the surplus among their comrades.\"\n\nAnd so the night passed.\n\nToward five in the morning Kasper reported that Marc-Dives with a\nload of cartridges, Catherine Lefevre, and a detachment from\nLabarbe had arrived and were at the farm.\n\nThe news eased the old sabot-maker's mind, for he feared greatly\nthe result of a delay in the supplies. He rose at once and went\nout with Kasper.\n\nAt the approach of day, huge masses of fog had begun to rise from\nthe valley; the fires crackled in the damp air, and all around\nlay the sleeping mountaineers. All was silent, and a cloud,\npurple or grey, as the fire rose or fell, hung around each\nbivouac. Further off, the dim outlines of the sentinels could be\nseen as they paced to and fro with arms shouldered, or stood\ngazing into the misty abysses.\n\nTo the right, fifty yards beyond the last fire, horses were\nneighing, and men stamping to keep their feet warm.\n\n\"Master Jean-Claude is coming,\" said Kasper approaching the\ngroup.\n\nOne of the partisans had just thrown a bundle of dry sticks upon\nthe fire, and by the light of the blaze Hullin saw Marc-Dives and\nhis twelve men on horseback, standing sabre in hand, motionless\naround their charge. Catherine was further on, half covered with\nthe straw of her wagon, her back leaning against a large cask;\nbehind her were a huge pot, a gridiron, a fresh-killed hog ready\nfor cooking, and some strings of onions and cabbages for soup.\nAll started for a moment from the darkness, and disappeared again\nas the blaze fell.\n\nDives left his party and rode forward.\n\n\"Is that you, Jean-Claude?\"\n\n\"Yes, Marc.\"\n\n\"I have already several thousand cartridges. Hexe-Baizel is\nworking night and day.\"\n\n\"Good! good!\"\n\n\"And Catherine Lefevre is here with provisions.\"\n\n\"We shall need all, Marc. The battle is near.\"\n\n\"I do not doubt it; we shall not have long to wait. But where\nshall I put the powder?\"\n\n\"Yonder; under the shed, behind the house. Is that you,\nCatherine?\"\n\n\"It is indeed, Jean-Claude. A cold morning.\"\n\n\"Always the same, Catherine. Do you fear nothing?\"\n\n\"Would I be a woman if I lacked curiosity? I must see all that is\ngoing on, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes, you have always excuses for your good deeds.\"\n\n\"No compliments, Hullin. People cannot live on air, and I have\ntaken my measures. Yesterday we killed an ox--poor Schwartz--he\nweighed nine hundred, and I have brought a quarter for soup. Let\nme warm myself.\"\n\nShe threw the reins to Duchene and alighted, saying:\n\n\"Those fires yonder are a pretty sight, but where is Louise?\"\n\n\"Louise has passed the night making bandages with Pelsly's two\ndaughters. She is there in the hospital, where you see my lantern\nshining.\"\n\n\"Poor child!\" said Catherine; \"I will run and help her. It will\nwarm me.\"\n\nHullin gazing at her retreating figure could only mutter, \"What a\nwoman! What a woman!\"\n\n{315}\n\nDives and his men took the powder to the shed; and what was\nJean-Claude's surprise, on approaching the nearest fire, to see\nthe fool Yegof, his crown upon his head, gravely sitting upon a\nstone, his feet at the embers, and his rags draped around him\nlike a royal mantle.\n\nNothing could be stranger than his figure. He was the only one\nwaking there, and seemed a barbarian king surrounded by his\nsleeping horde.\n\nHullin, however, only saw the fool, and gently placing his hand\nupon his shoulder, said in a tone of ironical respect:\n\n\"Hail, Yegof! thou art come to offer us the aid of thine\ninvincible arm and the help of thy numberless armies!\"\n\nThe fool, without showing the least surprise, answered:\n\n\"That depends upon thee, Hullin. Thy fate and that of thy people\naround thee are in thy hands. I have checked my wrath, and I\nleave it to thee to pronounce the sentence.\"\n\n\"What sentence?\" asked Jean-Claude.\n\nThe fool, without replying, continued in a low and solemn tone:\n\n\"We are here now, as we were sixteen hundred years ago, on the\neve of a great battle. Then I, the chief of so many nations, came\nto thy clan to demand a passage--\"\n\n\"Sixteen hundred years ago!\" interrupted Hullin; \"that would make\nus fearfully old, Yegof. But no matter; go on.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the fool; \"but thine obstinacy would hear nothing;\nhundreds of dead lie at Blutfeld; they cry for vengeance!\"\n\n\"Ah! yes, Blutfeld,\" said Jean-Claude; \"it is an old story; I\nhave heard you tell it before.\"\n\nYegof rose with flushed face and flashing eyes.\n\n\"Barest thou boast of thy victory?\" he cried. \"But beware,\nbeware! Blood calls for blood!\"\n\nThen his tone softened, and he added:\n\n\"Listen! I would not harm thee; thou art brave, and the children\nof thy race may mingle their blood with mine. I desire thy\nalliance--thou knowest it.\"\n\n\"He is coming back to Louise,\" thought Jean-Claude, and,\nforeseeing another demand in form, he said:\n\n\"Yegof, I am sorry, but I must leave you; I have so many things\nto see to--\"\n\nThe fool bent an angry look on him.\n\n\"Dost refuse me thy daughter?\" he cried, raising his finger\nsolemnly.\n\n\"We will talk of it hereafter.\"\n\n\"Thou refusest!\"\n\n\"Your cries are arousing my men, Yegof.\"\n\n\"Thou hast refused, and for the third time. Beware! Beware!\"\n\nHullin, despairing of calming him, strode away, but the fool's\nvoice followed:\n\n\"Woe to thee, Huldrix! Thy latest hour is nigh. Soon will the\nwolves banquet upon thy flesh! The storm of my wrath is\nunchained, and for thee and thine there is no longer grace, pity,\nnor mercy! Thou hast spoken thy doom!\"\n\nAnd throwing the ragged end of his cloak over his shoulder, the\npoor wretch hurried toward the peak of Donon.\n\nMany of the partisans, half awakened by his voice, gazed with\ndull eyes at his vanishing form. They heard a flapping of wings\naround the fire, but it seemed like a dream, and they turned and\nslept again.\n\n{316}\n\nAn hour later, the horn of Lagarmitte sounded the\n_reveille_. In a few moments every one was upon his feet.\n\nThe chiefs assembled their men. Some went to the shed, where\ncartridges were distributed; others filled their flasks at the\ncask, but everything was done in order. Then each platoon\ndeparted in the grey dawn to take its place at the _abatis_.\n\nWhen the sun rose, the farm was deserted, and, save five or six\nfires yet smoking, nothing announced that the partisans held all\nthe passes of the mountain, and had so lately been encamped\nthere.\n\n ----------\n\n Glimpses Of Tuscany.\n\n The Passion At Prato.\n\n\n IV.\n\n\nAs Good Friday drew near, I was more than once asked by our\n_maestro di casa_ if I meant to attend the Passion at Prato.\nPrato is an old walled town in the valley of the Arno, about ten\nmiles from Florence. It contains some twelve thousand\ninhabitants, whose principal occupation consists in plaiting\nLeghorn straw, manufacturing Turkish red-caps, smelting copper,\nand quarrying the dark green serpentine, which figures so\nextensively in Italian church architecture. It is renowned in\nChristian art as the shrine of the Sacratissima Cintola. Our\n_maestro_ explained that once in every three years, from\ntime immemorial, the citizens of Prato had celebrated Good Friday\nby a nocturnal representation of the Passion; that it was a sight\nwell worth seeing, and famous throughout Northern Italy; that he\nand his family were going, and that they had a window, or stand,\nvery much at my service. My aunt, who thought nothing worth\nseeing but the Cascine and her native Lucca, shook her head\ndespairingly, leaving me somehow under the impression that the\naffair was a large puppet-show accompanied by fireworks. So the\nmatter dropped, and I quite forgot it, until invited on Holy\nThursday by an English gentleman, long resident in Florence, to\nmake one of a party to Prato, Friday afternoon. As the trains\nwere uncomfortably full, and all the better public barouches\nengaged weeks before, we had to put up with an old blue hack,\ndrawn by two lank, slovenly bays. But the hack-horses of Florence\nare singed cats. Although not unlike crop-eared mules, they can\nhold a trot or canter all day long, without seeming much more\ndistressed than when they started. We were hardly through the\nPorta al Prato before our team struck an honest, even, steady\nlope that soon brought us to the Villa Demidoff.\n\nThe spring is a slow one, but the violets are out, the\nfruit-trees in bloom, and the roses budding. There is no dust;\nthe road, like all Tuscan roads, smooth and firm, curbed and\nguttered, weeded to the edge, fringed with unbroken borders of\nolive, mulberry, and vines.\n{317}\nAlong the wayside, and in the doorways, old women and children\nare braiding straw. Men and girls, in holiday attire, are\nflocking to the great triennial festa; some in carts, drawn by\nmild-eyed, dove-colored oxen; some on foot; others in jaunty\nspring-wagons, jerked along by plucky little ponies. The whole\ncountry is astir, with a general concentration on Prato. It must\nsurely be something worth seeing that provokes such a deliberate\ncrowd. Still, I asked no questions. It is so much more\ninteresting to anticipate a spectacle vaguely than exactly. The\nindefinite anxiety about the form in which a dawning unknown will\nfinally present itself is always more engrossing than mere\ncuriosity to realize a picture distinctly foreshadowed. Yet,\nwhile speculating on what the good people of Prato could possibly\nmake of the awful mystery they were undertaking to represent, I\nmust confess that I felt apprehensive lest some awkward handling\nshould affront the unutterably sacred.\n\nAt sunset we reached the fine old walls, and came to a halt just\ninside the gate. To drive further was impossible. The city\nswarmed with _contadini_ from the neighborhood; with natives\nand _forestieri_ from Florence, Pisa, Pistoia, Lucca, and\neven Milan; with the beautiful maidens of Segna and the dark\nsilk-venders of Pescia. It was evident, at a glance, that the\nceremony was to be a procession. The piazzas were all ready for\nillumination; every window along the line of march displayed at\nleast two lamps suspended from brackets of thick iron wire; every\ndoor and balcony was thronged with still, expectant faces.\n\nAs two of our party, a young artist and a mature cosmopolitan,\nwere bent on seeing the cathedral, we managed to reach it after\ntoiling through the crowd. It is wonderful how many objects your\ndisciplined sight-seer can absorb at once. He is never satisfied\nwith less than a constellation in his field of vision. The\nemotional jumble that maddens a novice serves only to\ntranquillize his nerves. He is utterly insensible to the charm of\na separately entertained idea--the undulating, widening waves of\nthought dispersed evenly and unbrokenly from one central point of\nagitation. He is, apparently, never so happy as when the surface\nof sensation is pelted with fresh impressions, overshowered with\nnovelties, tremulous and titillating with myriads of clashing\ncirclets. But, although the Duomo is partly of the twelfth\ncentury, although it is said to enshrine the Sacratissima\nCintola, although its choir contains the best specimens of Fra\nLippo Lippi, I was not sorry to find the doors locked. My mind\nwas so preoccupied with the coming Passion that I scarcely cared\nto do more than glance at the fine balcony built by Donatello for\nthe exposition of the treasured girdle.\n\nWe drifted about the piazza till dark, when an electrical\nmovement and murmur of the people announced the near approach of\nthe initial moment. Instantly a thousand ladders are up against\nthe house-sides; swiftly and mysteriously the throng of\non-lookers melts away; the bands of Pistoia and Prato unite in a\nminor march; the momently deserted streets are filled with\nradiance and music--the great triennial festa has begun.\nHalf-past seven; a perfect night; no moon, a low breeze, and\nfaint starlight. We are in the rear of the starting-point; the\nprocession must traverse the whole town--two hours--before it\nreaches us. But we shall have the best of it then, for the close\nis said to be even more solemn and better ordered than the start.\n\n{318}\n\nThe narrow sidewalks are lined with spectators; doors, windows,\nand balconies alive with faces; but there is little movement and\nless conversation. Although we had a room of our own, we found\nourselves addressing each other in whispers. At nine o'clock the\nsilence deepened; the low rustling in the balconies ceased; our\nhostess crossed herself; the glare of coming torches lights up a\nliving lane of men bare-headed, of women mutely praying with\nclasped hands; and then a solitary Roman knight, with casque and\nspangled robe, and steed unshod, glides noiselessly into view,\nlike an apparition. After him a band of mounted knights, clad as\nat Calvary, ride slowly, silently together; then a blast from\ntwenty trumpets, in superb unison, by twenty Bersaglieri of the\nGuard; and then--a sight which to this day brings the tears to my\neyes as I recall it--thirty gladiatorial lictors, ten abreast,\nstripped to the waist, bare-headed, belted, filleted--all picked\nmen of equal height--moving with a step that spurned the ground,\nlight but swift and stern as fate. How that wonderful step\nstartled us! How its determined energy transported us to\nJerusalem! They have sustained it for two hours without the\nslightest symptom of weariness. They march on as if they could\nkeep the pace forever.\n\nAfter these, in helmet and cuirass, with shield and sword and\nspear, come the Roman legionaries, true to tradition in gait,\ngarb, and array.\n\n\"Watch the sway of their spears,\" whispered our artist friend, as\nthe long lances flashed through the air with the even sweep of an\nadmiral's oars.\n\nIt was worth watching: nearly as much so as the wonderful stride\nof the lictors. And, all the while, you could not hear a\nfootfall, a comment, or a murmur; the procession passed like a\nvision through the heart of that still, torchlit, reverent\nmultitude. But, as the dread sequel approached, I began to\ntremble--began to fear they might overdo it--although the\nmarching of those drilled lictors and the swaying of those\nlegionary spears might have reassured me. Fresh companies of\nknights, fresh sections of the cohort are filing forward, every\nman of them as earnest and absorbed as if he were climbing the\nhill of the Crosses Three. Not a sign or gesture of levity,\ndistraction, or fatigue; not even a side-glance at the living\nwalls that hemmed them in.\n\nAs the vanguard melts away, the sudden glare of many torches, the\nsudden chaunt of many voices, again invade the solemn stillness\nwith music and light. Marshalled groups of ecclesiastics, each\ngroup with its separate choir, are seen advancing in endless\nperspective; and in the centre of each choir, between two\ntorch-bearers, a lovely boy, with downcast eyes and rigid face,\nsupports some symbol of the Passion. One by one, at measured\nintervals, the precious emblems of salvation are thus\nsuccessively displayed--each with its guard of acolytes, its\nescort of deacons and sub-deacons, its swelling choral, its\nangelic boy-bearer. Those rapt, concentrated, inspired young\nfaces! I see them now bending in meek beauty over the Scourge,\nthe Crown, the Reed, the Cross, the Nails, the Sponge, the Spear.\n\nAnd when these too have passed, there is another pause, another\ninterval of darkness, another pulseless silence, broken as before\nby the tide of radiance and song. Seven white banners inscribed\nwith the Seven Last Words are borne by with the same mournful\npomp, the same separate array. Whose the music, I know not:\nneither Haydn's, I am sure, nor Mercadante's, I think; but quite\nas effective, for the moment, as either.\n{319}\nWe looked and listened spell-bound; an overpowering illusion held\nus speechless and motionless; a dread expectation weighed at our\nhearts like lead; we were body and soul at Calvary, as once more\nthe torchlight died away. And in the darkness, we asked\nourselves, \"Will they venture farther? Will they attempt the act\nof sacrifice itself? Why, the city of Prato would reel like\nJerusalem--her graves would open and her dead would walk!\"\n\nBut Prato is too merciful for that. After an interval of profound\nsuspense, a lofty sable catafalque, encircled by priests arrayed\nin stole and surplice, is borne silently along--and on it, pale\nand unmoving, the shrouded image of the divine Victim, with all\nthe agony of the Passion on the white lips and crimson brow.\n_Consummatum est!_--But as we sat unexpectant of more,\nanother figure emerged from the settling gloom--the life-size\neffigy of the Mater Dolorosa, \"following with clasped hands and\nstreaming eyes the dead form of her Son.\" After all that long\narray of _living_ actors, the introduction of any effigy,\nhowever perfect, must create a disillusion. And this one is far\nfrom perfect--far more suggestive of the Prado than of Calvary.\nThe dead on the catafalque is appropriately represented by the\ninanimate; but when knights, soldiers, lictors, centurions, are\nmoving, breathing flesh and blood, its application to the equally\nliving Mother is a violent incongruity. The action has been too\nintensely vitalized to assimilate a counterfeit vitality, however\nsacred its significance.\n\n\"But what then?\" asks the genius of Prato. \"Am I to forego this\ntribute to my dear Padrona because it shocks the sensibilities of\na speculative tourist? Does not my cathedral enshrine the very\ngirdle of the Assumption that fell to the kneeling Thomas? Can\nyou fix a single unorthodox or unscriptural significance upon\nthese time-honored obsequies? In the final throes of crucifixion,\nwas not the last thought of the dying Son, the last concern of\nthe expiring Redeemer, for his Mother? Was not 'Behold thy\nMother!' the last charge of the thirsting lips? We obey the\n_Ecce Homo_ of Pilate: dare we disobey the _Ecce Mater_\nof Jesus?\"\n\nLet it be discriminated, however, that in the _Ecce Mater_\nwe are summoned to contemplate our Blessed Lady, not in her\nagony, but in her maternity--in her relationship rather to the\nfuture than to the present. The Evangelists are singularly\ncareful not to distinguish any finite sorrow--not even\n_hers_--from the overwhelming spectacle of immolated Deity.\nHad the Mater Dolorosa formed _part_ of the funeral tableau,\nhad she been pictured _Dolentem_ CUM _filio_, had she\nbeen stationed directly _at_ the bier so as to constitute a\ngroup or Piet\u00e0--although the inconsistency of effigy remained,\nyet the marbles of Angelo and the canvas of Raphael would have\nabundantly prepared us for the sight. But at that supreme moment,\nto present her, _after a distinct interval_, as a\n_separate_ spectacle, was at variance with all the examples\nof Christian art. The Stabat Mater does not wander an inch from\nthe Cross; though here, with exquisite propriety, as the sorrow\nof the Mother is revealed, the cross she clings to is so dimmed\nby her tears that we catch only mournful twilight glimpses of the\nDULCEM _Natum_--veiled, infinite, triumphant woe, but none\nof the vivid, minute, specific agony of the Passion.\n\n{320}\n\nThe sublime reticence of the Evangelists, so far from diminishing\nthe true glory of the Handmaid of the Lord, is in inspired accord\nboth with her maiden humility and maternal dignity. The\nfathomless processes of redemption present themselves to our\nlimited perceptions rather as consecutive than simultaneous. The\npaternal, the filial, the spiritual aspect of the Holy Trinity\nseems each consecutively prominent in the church. As the special\nwork of the Redeemer is consummated, the special work of the\nComforter begins. The sphere of the Paraclete is as broadly\ndefined, as lovingly respected by the Son, as the sphere of the\nPadre Eterno. Infinitely dear as is the bond between babe and\nmother, we instinctively sympathize with the mystical courtesy\nthat reserved the full exaltation of the Bride of the Dove, like\nthe gift of the cloven tongues of fire, for the operation of the\nHoly Ghost.\n\n \"Vergine sola al mondo sensa esempio,\n Che'l ciel di tue bellezze innamorasti.\"\n\nAnd the hearts of the faithful, now as at Ephesus, are jealously\nalive to the full significance of her paramount title, \"_Mater\nDei_.\"\n\nThe mission of Peter, to feed the sheep, is not more emphatic\nthan the mission of John as the child and guardian of Mary. The\napostolic inheritor of the keys, and the executor of the cross\nwho took her as his own, walk side by side through the ages,\n_not in the flesh, indeed, but in the spirit_, following the\nLord till his coming. In this relation, the dearest disciple is\nas deathless as the church; under this aspect, Christian art\nloves to depict him; under this aspect he becomes the preferred\nof the Paraclete, as he has been the best beloved of\nJesus--becomes the great herald of the incarnation; the prophet\nto whose vision the doors in heaven are opened; the bearer of the\nmystic challenge, \"_And the_ SPIRIT _and the_ BRIDE\n_say come!_\"\n\nSalve Regina! Much as I should have preferred the chime of the\nStabat Mater to any more direct suggestion, or to aught in\nimitative art save the very face of the San Sisto transformed by\nmaternal sorrow, yet no man in Prato bows with deeper heartfelt\nreverence than I to the image of our ever honored Lady. Tuscany\nis not Mariolatrous enough for me. I should like it better with a\nMadonna presiding over every fountain and hallowing every\npathway. And, in the deep hush that precedes the stir with which\nPrato struggles back to herself, the soul's conception of the\n_Juxta crucem lacrymosa_ takes the place of the vanishing\neffigy, and, aided by the inspired seers of art, constructs some\ntenderer semblance of the blessed countenance.\n\n \"----ch' a Christo\n Piu s' assomiglia.\"\n\nThere was but little conversation as we drove back in the\nmidnight. And when at last, in the starry distance, arose the\nmighty cupola of Santa Maria del Fiore, I caught myself searching\namong the towers of Florence for the lonely spire of Santo\nSpirito.\n\n ----------\n\n{321}\n\n Galileo-Galilei, [Footnote 125]\n the Florentine Astronomer.\n\n 1564-1642.\n\n \"Even so great a man as Bacon rejected the theory of Galileo\n with scorn. ... Bacon had not all the means of arriving at a\n sound conclusion which are within our reach; and which secure\n people who would not have been worthy to mend his pens from\n falling into his mistakes.\"--Macaulay.\n\n [Footnote 125: _Galileo--The Roman Inquisition_.\n Cincinnati. 1844.\n\n _Galileo e l'Inquisizione_. Marino-Marini. Roma. 1850.\n\n _Histoire des Sciences Math\u00e9matiques en Italie_.\n Par Libri. Paris. 1838.\n\n _Notes on the Ante-Galilean Copernicans._\n Prof. De Morgan. London. 1855.\n\n _Opere di Galileo-Galilei._ Alberi. Firenze.\n 1842-1856. 16 vols. imp. 8vo.\n\n _Galileo-Galilei, sa Vie, son Proc\u00e8s et ses\n Contemporains_. Par Philar\u00e8te Chasles. Paris. 1862.\n\n _Galileo and the Inquisition_. By R. Madden. London.\n 1863.\n\n _Galilee, sa Vie, ses D\u00e9couvertes et ses Travaux_.\n Par le Dr. Max Parchappe. Paris. 1866.\n\n _Galilee_. Trag\u00e9die de M. Ponsard. Paris. 1866.\n\n _La Condamnation de Galil\u00e9e_. Par M. l'Abb\u00e9 Bouix.\n Arras. 1866.\n\n _Articles on Galileo, in Dublin Review_. 1838-1865.\n\n _Articles on Galileo, in Revue des Deux Mondes_.\n 1841-1864.\n\n _M\u00e9langes Scientifiques et Litt\u00e9raires_.\n Par J. B. Biot. 3 vols. Paris. 1858.\n\n _Galil\u00e9e, les Droits da la Science\n et la M\u00e9thode des Sciences Physiques_.\n Par Thomas Henri Martin.\n Paris. 1868.]\n\n\nVery few years of life now remain to the Galileo story as\nheretofore accepted. It has received more than one mortal wound,\nand, writhing in pain, must soon \"die among its worshippers.\" And\nyet some of them still battle for its truth. For these, too, the\nend approaches. We therefore hasten to glean the field and gather\nin our harvest of historic leaves, while yet the controversial\nsun shines with fading warmth. We wish at once to present the\nGalileo story as truly told; for soon there will be nothing left\nof it to discuss, and the moving drama of\n\n \"The starry Galileo, with his woes,\"\n\nwill cease to be played to crowded and delighted anti-Catholic\naudiences. A flood of historic daylight has been gradually let in\nbehind the scenes, and our pensive public now begin plainly to\ndiscern the bungling framework, the coarse canvas, and the\nroughly-daubed paint, that, in a light shed by a blaze of\nreligious bigotry, seemed the brilliancy of science and the\nbeauty of truth.\n\nThe \"persecution,\" the \"torture,\" the \"_e pur si muove_\" the\n\"shirt of penance,\" and all the other properties, scenery,\ndresses, and decorations, constituting the \"_mise en sc\u00e8ne_\"\nof the wretched play that so long has had a sort of historic\n_Black Crook_ run, are now about to be swept away with other\nold rubbish, and the curtain will fall never again to rise.\n\nThe Galileo controversy is of comparatively recent date in our\nliterature. In the year 1838 a well-known article in the _The\nDublin Review_ gave the best statement of the case which, up\nto that period, had ever been presented to English readers. It\nwas in this country generally attributed to Cardinal Wiseman, but\nwas in fact written by the Rev. Peter Cooper. Republished in 1844\nat Cincinnati, with a timely preface, it has been largely\ncirculated among the Catholic reading public throughout the\nUnited States. Since the dates mentioned, however, there are many\nvaluable accessions to our knowledge on this interesting subject;\nand, not to mention others, the publications of Marini, Alberi,\nand Biot have cleared up several important points heretofore in\ndoubt, and placed some disputed facts in an entirely new light.\n\n{322}\n\nThe occasion of _The Dublin Review_ article was the\nappearance of Whewell's _History of the Inductive Sciences_,\nand Powell's _History of Philosophy_. Its republication in\nCincinnati, accompanied by an American introduction, was provoked\nby some remarkable statements made concerning Galileo by John\nQuincy Adams, in a discourse delivered before the Astronomical\nSociety of that city. In like manner, the controversy was lately\nbrought to the surface in France by the production of M.\nPonsard's five-act drama (_Galil\u00e9e_) at the Th\u00e9\u00e2tre\nFran\u00e7ais. Before it is put upon the stage, the play is objected\nto by official censorship, on the ground of historical\nmisrepresentation. M. Ponsard justifies, censure responds. M.\nPonsard's friends, the _Avenir National_ and a compact\nphalanx of ardent young _feuilletonistes_, spring to the\nrescue; pamphlets fly from the press as thick as autumn leaves,\nand the whole controversy is once again put in agitation.\n\nGenerally speaking, English and American boys emerge from their\nschool or college reading with an idea, more or less vague, that\nthe moment Galileo announced the doctrine of the earth's rotation\nhe was seized upon by the Inquisition, cast into prison, tortured\nin various ways until all his bones were broken; that he\npretended to recant, but, with broken bones aforesaid, stood up\nerect, stamped his foot, and-thundered out, \"_e pur si\nmuove_\"--and yet, it moves. We believe this is no exaggeration\nof the main features of the version that in an undefined and\nmisty form still holds possession of the public mind; and the\ndistinguished Biot appears to recognize this fact in the title of\nhis memoir (1858) on the subject. _La V\u00e9rit\u00e9 sur Galil\u00e9e_--\nThe truth at last--or, in other words, we have had enough of\nfiction.\n\nAnd no wonder; for, up to within comparatively few years, the\nstory has been systematically obscured by thick shades of fable\nand falsehood. Falsehood as gross as that of Montucla, that the\nastronomer's eyes were put out; or of Bernini, that he was\nimprisoned for five years. Falsehood as flippant as that of\nMoreri, (_Grand Dictionnaire Biographique_,) that Galileo\nwas \"kept in prison five or six years,\" prefacing his statement\nwith \"_je sais bien_.\" Fables as transparent as that of\nPontecoulant, who says Galileo was a martyr, leaving you free to\nimagine the astronomer beheaded or burned, at your choice.\n\nAs liberal a quarterly as the _Westminster_ says of Galileo:\n\"For the remainder of his life he was subjected to the\npersecution of the Inquisition.\" Even the last edition of the\n_Encyclopedia Britannica_ tells us that \"at the end of a\nyear the Grand Duke had the influence to procure his release from\nprison;\" and Sir Benjamin Brodie informs us, in his\n_Psychological Inquiries_, that \"the Inquisition of Rome\nsubjected Galileo to the torture because he asserted that the\nearth moved round the sun, and not the sun round the earth.\" But\nfor a specimen of the most daring intrepidity of statement on\nthis topic, see an article by Libri in the _Revue des Deux\nMondes_, 1841; and for one out of a thousand silly rhetorical\nflourishes, see _Introduction \u00e0 l'Etude Philosophique de\nl'Histoire de l'Humanit\u00e9_, par Altmeyer, (p. 95,) \"Galil\u00e9e fut\nforc\u00e9 par un clerg\u00e9 retrograde de demander pardon \u00e0 Dieu d'avoir\nr\u00e9vel\u00e9 aux hommes les \u00e9ternelles et ravissantes harmonies par\nlesquelles il r\u00e9git l'univers.\"\n\n{323}\n\nSumming up this peculiar phase of historical treatment, there is\nleft from it a general impression that Galileo was persecuted,\nimprisoned, maltreated, and tortured, wholly and solely by reason\nof his scientific belief; that he pretended to abjure, but said\n\"_e pur si muove_\" and did not abjure.\n\nThe Ponsard controversy in France, which had hardly died out at\nthe latest advices, produced many assertions, strong expression\nof weak theories, loose statement, some fine writing, pleasing\namenities, such as \"exag\u00e9ration,\" \"inexactitude de\ntranscription,\" \"menteurs,\" \"mensonge complet,\" and very little\nhistorical proof.\n\nThroughout the entire range of the discussion one capital feature\nappears, as usual, to be left totally out of sight. We mean\n\n The Condition Of The Scientific Question.\n\nThe theory of the earth's motion, A.D. 1868, is demonstrated.\nThere is no one to question it--unless, indeed, we except Pastor\nKnaack, an orthodox Lutheran, or, at any rate, Protestant\npreacher, in Berlin, who lately had an exciting controversy with\nPastor Liscow, in which he maintains that the accounts given of\nthe creation of the world in the first chapters of Genesis are\nliterally true; that the earth does not move, etc., etc. And most\npersons nowadays, taking it for granted that Galileo had\ndemonstrated the truth of his system, appear to be satisfied that\nthe tribunal by which he was judged must have been perversely\nblind and disgracefully ignorant in refusing assent to a\nproposition so evident. Even in many books that treat this\ndiscussion with comparative thoroughness, the true condition of\nthe scientific question in Galileo's day is passed over in\nsilence, or presented with startling incorrectness. Thus any one\nmight read Dr. Parchappe's pretentious work carefully through,\nand never suspect that Galileo had not triumphantly demonstrated\nthe system.\n\nFor another, out of many examples, listen to M. Philar\u00e8te\nChasles: \"Galileo accomplished the noblest conquest of modern\nscience after that of Newton. _He determined the problem of the\nmovement of the earth_, and thus became culpable of three\ncrimes--against society, the _savants_, and the power of his\ntime.\" So intent is M. Chasles on his antithetical three crimes,\nthat he loses sight of the fact that this assertion prostrates\nthe whole _\u00e9chafaudage_ of his defence of Rome--for,\nultra-liberal though he be, his book is written with unusual\nfairness of intention. If Galileo did what M. Chasles thus claims\nfor him--namely, determine the problem of the movement of the\nearth--_there is no excuse for Rome!_ But a candid\nexamination of the condition of astronomical science at that\nperiod, and of the extent of Galileo's acquisitions, will show\nthat not only was\n\n THE SYSTEM NOT DEMONSTRATED BY GALILEO,\n\nbut that, with the entire fund of astronomical and physical\nknowledge in existence in his day, it was not then susceptible of\ndemonstration by him or by any one else.\n\nThis examination we now proceed to make. And we set out with the\nproposition that Galileo, with all the aid of the eighty years of\nconfirmation that grew with the theory of Copernicus, with the\nlight of his own remarkable discoveries, with his brilliant\ngenius and intimate conviction of the truth of his theory, was\nyet not only powerless to prove it, but was so far wide of\ndemonstration that he assigned as evidence in its support reasons\nthat were utterly erroneous and delusive.\n\n{324}\n\nThe truth is--and it is no derogation of Galileo's magnificent\ntalent to say so--it was not given to any single intellect here\nbelow to solve a problem so gigantic. It was not possible for any\nmortal to concentrate the patient labor of centuries within the\nspace of one short life, to master all the avenues of all the\nsciences that approach it, to storm the firmament and lead\ncaptive the stars. No! only the combined genius and ceaseless\ntoil of the illustrious men of science of all Christendom barely\nsucceeded in accomplishing the demonstration of which we speak,\nnearly two centuries after the grave had closed over Galileo and\nhis judges.\n\nIt would require a volume to do the entire subject the merest\njustice; for, in addition to the examination proposed, it is\nabsolutely necessary, if only for the sake of chronological\nclearness, to present at least a sketch of Galileo's career, the\nmain events of his personal and scientific life, and a statement\nof the difficulties that brought on his trial. This we will\nendeavor to do.\n\n\n BIOGRAPHY.\n\nBorn at Pisa, February 28th, 1564, Galileo-Galilei was, at the\nage of twenty-six, noticed by the Cardinal Del Monte, and on his\nrecommendation installed lecturer on mathematics in his native\ncity. At this period the doctrines of Aristotle reigned in the\nschools, although Leonardo da Vinci, Nizzoli, Benedetti, and\nothers, had, by many valuable experiments, already shaken the\nauthority of the Stagyrite on matters of science. The young Pisan\nfollowed diligently in their path, and, with the favoring\nlocality of the Leaning Tower, demonstrated the incorrectness of\nthe accepted axiom that the velocity of falling bodies is\nproportionate to their weight. He was also the first to whom the\nmechanical principle, since denominated that of the\n_virtual_ velocities, had occurred in its full extent; and\nin pure geometry there is no doubt that, at a later period, he\nanticipated Cavalcanti in the discovery of the calculus of the\nindivisibles.\n\nUnfortunately, his indiscreet zeal had only words of harshness\nand rebuke for those who hesitated to accept his demonstrations,\nand his sarcasms rapidly begot alienation and ill-will. For a\nprejudice respectable by age he could make no allowance, and with\nthe blindness that in a blaze of light is unable to command\nvision he had no patience. Galileo was, however, still young, and\nnot yet, if ever in his life, wise enough to reflect, with\nanother great astronomer, that men are not necessarily obstinate\nbecause they cleave to rooted and venerable errors, nor are they\nabsolutely dull when they are long in understanding and slow in\nembracing newly discovered truths.\n\nThe young lecturer made so many enemies at Pisa that he was glad\nto leave it and accept the chair of mathematics at Padua.\n\n\n THE TELESCOPE.\n\nHere he invented, or rather improved, the telescope. Galileo\nexpressly states in his _Nuncius Siderius_ (March, 1610)\nthat he had heard that a certain Hollander constructed\n(_elaboratum_) a glass, (_perspicillum_,) by means of\nwhich distant objects were made to appear near. Whether this\nunknown optician was Zachary Jansen, Moetius of Alkmar, or Henry\nLippersheim of Middleburg, it seems impossible to determine.\n\n{325}\n\nIndeed, it seems strange that the idea of the telescope had not\nlong before been put to practical use. Passing over the\n\"perspective glasses\" of the English astronomer Dee, or\nmodifications of the suggestion in the _Pantometria_ of\nDigges in 1571, we find that the idea of bringing nearer the\nimage of distant objects by means of a combination of lenses is\nto be traced almost clearly to a very remote period. Baptist\nPorta, in his _Magica Naturalis_, published in 1589, speaks\nof crystal lenses by which he could read a letter at twenty\npaces, and was confident of being able, by multiplying such\nlenses, to decipher the smallest letters at a hundred paces.\nGoing further back, we read in the _Homocentrica_ of\nFracastorius, who died in the year 1553, of glasses through whose\naid we can decipher writing at a great distance; and yet further,\nRoger Bacon, who died A.D. 1300, speaks of glasses by which very\nsmall letters could be read at an incredible distance.\n\nGalileo's first telescope had only a power of three, his second\nmagnified eight times, his third thirty-three, [Footnote 126] and\nwas soon succeeded by a better one made on a suggestion of\nKepler, who wrote to Galileo: \"There is as much difference\nbetween the dissertations of Ptolemy on the Antipodes and the\ndiscovery of a new world by Columbus as between the bilenticular\ntubes which are everywhere hawked about and thine instrument,\nGalileo, wherewith thou hast penetrated the depths of the skies.\"\n\n [Footnote 126: The largest telescopes we now have are at\n Cincinnati, 204 focal feet: Greenwich, (England,) 210;\n Cambridge, (Mass.,) 270; Pultowa, (Russia,) 289; E. Cooper,\n (private observatory, Ireland,) 302. Auzont (Paris) is said\n to have made one of 600 focal feet, but it was found to be\n unmanageable.]\n\nThese embryo telescopes were from twenty to thirty inches in\nlength. Now, from a mere portable toy which Galileo held in his\nhand, this instrument has become an immense construction capable\nof supporting the astronomer himself, and which complicated and\npowerful machinery is requisite to move.\n\nIt is a remarkable fact that, as late as 1637, no glasses could\nbe produced in Holland, the cradle of the telescope, capable of\nshowing the satellites of Jupiter, which, in our day, can be\ndiscerned with a good field or opera-glass.\n\nWith his baby-telescope, then, in 1610, Galileo discovered the\nirregularities or mountains of the moon, forty stars in the\nPleiades, and the satellites of Jupiter. These discoveries were\nannounced in a work bearing the appropriate title, The _Herald\nof the Skies, (Nuncius Sidereus;)_ and it would be difficult\nto describe the profound sensation this publication created.\nKepler, in a letter to Galileo, describes his impressions on\nhearing of the discovers of the satellites of Jupiter in the\nfollowing graphic manner: \"Wachenfels stopped his carriage at my\ndoor to tell me, when such a fit of wonder seized me at a report\nwhich seemed so absurd that, between his joy, my coloring, and\nthe laughter of both, confounded as we were by such a novelty, we\nwere hardly capable, he of speaking, or I of listening.\"\n\n\n GALILEO GOES TO ROME.\n\nGalileo visited Rome for the first time in 1611. His fame had\npreceded him, and his stay there was one long ovation. Attentions\nbeset him and honors were heaped upon him. \"Whether we consider\ncardinal, priest, or prelate,\" says Salsbury, \"he found an\nhonorable welcome from all, and had their palaces as open to him\nas the houses of his private friends.\" His reception was indeed,\nas was beautifully remarked, \"as though one of his own starry\nwonders had dropped from the sky.\"\n\n{326}\n\nHe erected his best telescope in the garden of Cardinal Bandini,\nand for weeks all classes, priest and layman, noble and plebeian,\nflocked to see the wonders for the first time given to human\ngaze.\n\nIn 1611 and 1612, he had a protracted controversy, and wrote\ntreatises on the question whether \"the shape of bodies has any\ninfluence on their disposition to float or sink in a fluid,\" and\ndisplayed much acute reasoning in support of the true principles\nof hydrostatics.\n\n\n\n HIS SUCCESS.\n\nGalileo had now obtained wealth, reputation, station, and high\nhonors. His pupils were received as professors. His disciples and\ncorrespondents were philosophers, princes, and prelates.\nOpposition was for him but a bridge to triumph, and even his\nscientific errors were not noticed to his detriment. Not his the\nfate of Kepler and Tycho Brahe, compelled to seek in exile the\nhospitality of an opposing faith. Not his the essays of the\ndiscouraged Fulton, jeered at up to the instant that\ndemonstration silenced cavil. Not his the labors of sad and\nsilent nights, destined only to see the light when the hand that\ntraced them was cold in the tomb. Not his the constant struggle\nwith years of poverty, of hope deferred, in spite of which\nColumbus found a new world, not, like Galileo's, visible in the\nvault of heaven, but unseen, unknown, beyond the trackless wave.\n\nHe wrote and spoke _ex cathedra_, and, whether with or\nwithout proofs, in a tone of overbearing confidence. When\nargument failed to enlighten the judgment of his adversaries,\nsays Lardner, \"and reason to dispel their prejudices, he wielded\nagainst them his powerful weapons of ridicule and sarcasm.\" His\nprogress was a triumphant march. Sovereigns received his\ndedications, and learned academies sought a reflection of his\nfame in sending forth his works with all the illustration of\ntheir high authority. The path to the full establishment of the\nCopernican system was open and broad before him; but the pride of\nthe man [Footnote 127] was stronger than the modest science of\nthe philosopher, and he made it rugged and difficult by obstacles\nof his own erection. He strove not for truth, but victory.\n\n [Footnote 127: Like Cicero, Galileo was \"_avidior gloriae\n quam satis est_,\" a phrase used by himself when on his\n defence.]\n\n\n THE COPERNICAN THEORY\n\nwas, so to speak, born, cradled, nurtured and developed in the\nChurch and under the very shadow of St. Peter's.\n\nNicholas Copernicus was a priest, acquired his scientific\neducation at Bologna, was shortly afterward appointed to a\nprofessorship in Rome, where he lectured many years, and\nannounced and discussed his theory of the solar system long\nbefore it was published. The printing of his great work was long\nurged in vain by Cardinal Scomberg, who sent money to defray the\nexpense. The Bishop of Culm superintended its publication, and\nCopernicus dedicated it to the Head of the Church, Pope Paul\nIII., on the express ground \"that the authority of the pontiff\nmight silence the calumnies of those who attacked these opinions\nby arguments drawn from Scripture.\"\n{327}\nIt was well understood that the authority of the pontiff might be\nrelied on; for in 1533, ten years before the publication of _De\nRevolutionibus_ by Copernicus, John Albert Widmanstadt, just\narrived in Rome from Germany, was invited by Pope Clement VII. to\ngive in his presence at the Vatican an explanation of the\nCopernican system. Widmanstadt accordingly delivered a lecture on\nthe subject in the garden of the Vatican; and his holiness, in\ntoken of his high gratification, presented the distinguished\nGerman a valuable Greek manuscript, (long preserved at Monaco,\nand now belonging to the royal library at Munich,) on the\nfly-leaf of which is recorded, by Widmanstadt, the gift and the\nincident connected with it.\n\nFrom that time (1533) to 1610, a period of seventy-seven years,\nthe Copernican theory was widely discussed and written upon\nthroughout Europe. Lectures were delivered and books published in\nItaly, Germany, France, and Spain, without let or hindrance, in\nwhich the new system was thoroughly debated and, to a great\nextent, controverted--controverted, too, far more bitterly by\nastronomers than theologians. It was, moreover, discussed amongst\nall classes of men. So much so, indeed, that it was publicly\nsatirized in a farce put upon the stage at Elbing. So great,\nhowever, was the personal popularity of Copernicus that the piece\nwas hissed.\n\nIntentionally or not, the impression has been strongly made on\nthe English and American Protestant mind that before Galileo the\nnew system scarcely existed, and that he was the first to\nannounce it to the astonished and benighted priests and cardinals\nat Rome. In like manner a certain amount of literary industry\nappears to have been used to pass over in comparative silence the\nmerit of Copernicus and his fellow-priests--simply because they\nwere priests. [Footnote 128]\n\n [Footnote 128: In the interest of truth and historical\n accuracy, it is highly gratifying to be able to point out a\n signal and honorable exception in the following passage, which\n we read in the _National Quarterly Review_, a Protestant\n periodical published in this city: \"Thus we are bound to\n admit, as beyond all dispute, that not only was the system of\n the universe now universally received founded by a priest of\n the church which is said to be an enemy to science, but that\n it was a bishop and cardinal of the same church who, above all\n others, took most pains to have the system promulgated to the\n world. It was, in fact, they who paid all the expenses of\n printing the work, and finally, it was to the head of the\n church the book was dedicated; nor was it dedicated to the\n pope without his having given full permission, and it is\n further proved that Paul III. had not given the permission\n until he had made himself acquainted with the character of the\n work.\"--_National Quarterly Review_, October, 1868, p.\n 219.]\n\nMuch of this reprehensible effort is chargeable to English\nliterature, and even Hallam, fair and honorable usually, is not\nfree from the reproach of an apparent fear of stating boldly that\nCopernicus was a Catholic priest.\n\nAs remarked, more than three quarters of a century--that is to\nsay, from the period of the Widmanstadt lecture to the discovery\nof the satellites of Jupiter--the new theory as propounded by\nCopernicus was publicly taught or discussed by numbers of the\nfirst scholars and men of science in Europe.\n\nAmong them were Erasmus, Reinhold, and George Joachim Rheticus;\npersonal friends and survivors of Copernicus.\n\n_Francis Patricias_, the distinguished Platonist, who from\n1592 to 1597 taught the diurnal motion of the earth at Rome under\nthe patronage of the pope. In connection with the name of\nPatricius it is interesting to note the fact that the most\ncareful biographers of Galileo have been unable to fix the\nprecise time when he abandoned the Ptolemaic system for that of\nCopernicus. True, M. Libri, (in his _Histoire des Sciences\nMath\u00e9matiques en Italie_,) with his usual readiness undertakes\nto inform us, by stating that \"_D\u00e8s sa premi\u00e8re jeunesse\nGalil\u00e9e avait adopt\u00e9 le syst\u00e8me de Copernic_,\" which\nstatement, in a question of dates, we find eminently\nunsatisfactory.\n{328}\nThe weight of authority, however, appears to place it somewhere\nbetween 1593 and 1597, precisely the period when Patricius was\nlecturing at Rome.\n\n_Christian Urstisius_, who died in 1588, publicly taught the\ntheory of Copernicus in a course of lectures delivered in Italy,\nand to him also is ascribed, by some, the conversion of Galileo\nto Copernicanism.\n\n_Diego_ or _Didacus a Stunica_, a Spaniard, a decided\nCopernican, the first it is said who discussed the Bible\narguments, quoting Job: \"Who shaketh the earth out of her place,\nand the pillars thereof tremble.\"\n\n_Peter Ramus_, who began his philosophical career by a\npublic attack on the authority of Aristotle, in offering to\nmaintain the contrary of any assertion of his whatever. It is\nnoted as a curious coincidence that the publication of the\nopinions of Copernicus and of Ramus, controverting ancient\nastronomy (Ptolemy) and ancient logic, (Aristotle,) were made in\nthe same year, (1543.) Although called by Bacon \"a skulking-hole\nof ignorance,\" a \"pernicious book-worm,\" etc., he was\nnevertheless a man of great powers and acquirements. Before\nGalileo came on the stage, he appeared to favor the system of\nCopernicus.\n\n_Christopher Rothman_, who, although a friend and at one\ntime a follower of Tycho Brahe, was a defender both of the annual\nand diurnal motion of the earth.\n\n_William Gilbert_ and _Edward Wright_, two English\nscientific men, who may be classed among the opponents of the\nCopernican system.\n\n_Benedetti_, who cautiously favored the system.\n\n_Christopher Clavius_, a celebrated Jesuit, whose vast\nlearning was the admiration of his age. In 1570, he spoke of\nCopernicus as the excellent restorer of astronomy whom all\nposterity will gratefully celebrate and admire as a second\nPtolemy. We shall meet Clavius again.\n\nNot to speak of Kepler, we might mention Raimarus, Maestlin,\nVieta, and many others who wrote or lectured on the subject of\nthe theory of Copernicus previous to the year 1610.\n\nAnd yet we now reach a period when a professor of this same\nCopernican theory, in its home in Italy, was to be subjected to\nwhat are called the terrors of the Inquisition!\n\n WHENCE THE CHANGE?\n\nHow came it about? Were there elements in the controversy other\nthan scientific? And was it, or not, the fault of Galileo that\nthe question was shifted from the safe repose of the scientific\nbasis in which it had remained undisturbed more than four-score\nyears?\n\n SECOND VISIT TO ROME.\n\nIn 1615, Galileo was denounced to the Inquisition by Lorini for\nhaving asserted, in a letter to Castelli, the consistency of his\ntheories with the Scriptures. Lorini produced a copy of the\nletter in support of his charge. The officials demanded the\noriginal, which the complainant could not produce, although every\none in Rome knew where it was. Galileo's denunciator was, so to\nspeak, _non-suited_, and there the matter ended. Meantime,\nthrough Ciampoli, Cardinal Barberini, afterward Pope Urban VIII.,\nconveyed to Galileo the advice \"not to travel out of the limits\nof _physics_ and _mathematics_, but confine himself to\nsuch reasonings as Ptolemy and Copernicus used; because,\ndeclaring the views of Scripture the theologians maintain to be\ntheir particular province.\"\n{329}\nThis advice, together with the opinion of the eminent Bellarmine,\nshows precisely the condition of opinion and feeling in Rome at\nthe period in question.\n\nGalileo did not leave Rome after the inquiry of 1615, and then\nwrites to Picchena Feb. 16th, 1616: \"My affair has been brought\nto a close, so far as I am individually concerned; the result has\nbeen signified to me by all their eminences the cardinals, who\nmanage these affairs in the most liberal and kind manner, with\nthe assurance that they had felt, as it were with their own\nhands, no less my own candor and sincerity, than the diabolical\nmalignity and iniquitous purposes of my persecutors. So that, so\nfar as I am concerned, I might return home at any moment.\"\n\nBut he did not choose to return, and remained in order to obtain\na decision that should declare his scientific opinion in\naccordance with Scripture. His friend Cardinal Orsini entered\nwarmly into his views, and after having failed in having the\nquestion taken up by the cardinals, had the imprudence to force\nit (_arrept\u00e2 potius quam capt\u00e2 occasione_) upon the\nattention of the pope and the cardinals while in deliberation\nupon matters of weighty concern in one of their largest meetings.\nOn a second interruption the pope, naturally impatient, declared\nhe would send the matter before the Inquisition. He kept his\nword, and eleven consultative theologians had orders from him to\nreport, which they did, February 24th, 1616. By virtue of an\norder, said to have been written by the pope himself upon this\nreport, and notified on the 25th February, to the Commissary of\nthe Holy Office by Cardinal Mellini, Galileo was summoned the\nnext day to the palace of the Inquisition, where he was brought\nbefore Cardinal Bellarmine. The decree was not one of utter\ncondemnation, but a declaration that the system appeared to be\ncontrary to the sacred Scripture. Galileo was enjoined by the\ndecree to abandon the opinion of terrestrial motion, and neither\nto teach nor treat of it. Nor was this a discrimination against\nGalileo merely because he was a layman. A few days afterward the\ncongregation condemned the work of Foscarini, a Carmelite friar\nand professor of philosophy, who published a letter defending the\nsystems of Copernicus and Galileo. It is important here to remark\nthat the decree of 26th February, 1616, forbidding Galileo to\nteach the doctrine of the immobility of the _sun_ was\nscientifically correct, even tried by our modern scientific\nstandard. \"Ut supradictam opinionem quod sol sit centrum mundi et\nimmobilis ... omnino relinquat, nec eam de cetero quovis modo\nteneat, doceat, aut defendat.\" Will any man of modern science\nundertake to say that Galileo was right in denying the rotation\nof the sun? Nevertheless, Galileo writes to Picchena: \"The result\nhas not been favorable to my enemies, the doctrine of Copernicus\nnot having been declared _heretical_, but only as not\nconsonant with sacred Scripture; whence, the whole prohibition is\nof those works in which that consonance was maintained.\"\n\nMeantime these proceedings, imperfectly known abroad, doubtless\ngave rise to reports which the \"diabolical malignity\" of\nGalileo's enemies (as he styled it) did not fail to exaggerate.\nHence, the certificate which he procured shortly after from\nCardinal Bellarmine. The enemies Galileo speaks of were at first\nnot in Rome but in Tuscany, as Libri, in his _Histoire des\nSciences_, (p. 231,) is at some pains to explain.\n{330}\nThe sermon of Caccini, who took for his text Josue x. 12, \"Move\nnot, O sun, toward Gabaon; nor thou, O moon, toward the valley of\nAjalon,\" quoting from the Acts of the Apostles, \"Ye men of\nGalilee, why stand you here looking up to heaven?\"--was preached\nin Florence, and the friar-preacher was called to severe account\nfor it by his superior at Rome, the general of the Dominicans.\nHere is the estimate in which Caccini's performance was held at\nthe time in Rome: \"All to whom I have spoken,\" writes an eminent\necclesiastic, Castelli, \"think it great impertinence in preachers\nto mount their pulpits to treat of such high, professor-like\nmatters, _(matterie di cattedra e tanto elevate,)_ before\nwomen and people where there are so few to understand them.\" And\nreally Castelli's sentiment is not without its salt, even when we\ntransfer it from the 17th to the 19th century. Cardinal\nBellarmine's opinion as to Galileo appears in an extract from a\nletter of Ciampoli, March 21st, 1615, who states the conclusion\nof a long conversation between Cardinal del Monte and Cardinal\nBellarmine on the subject of the new opinions to be as follows:\n\"_By confining himself to the system_ AND IT'S\nDEMONSTRATION, without interfering with the Scriptures, the\ninterpretation of which they wish to have confined to theological\nprofessors approved and authorized for the purpose, Galileo would\nbe secure against any contradiction; but that otherwise\nexplanations of Scripture, however ingenious, will be admitted\nwith difficulty when they depart from the common opinion of the\nfathers.\"\n\nThe sensation and consequent discussion resulting from Galileo's\ndiscoveries had induced Bellarmine to submit them to four of the\nmost scientific fathers of his order (Jesuits) for their opinion.\nOne of these fathers was the renowned Clavius. Their answer is\npublished in _Venturi_, part I, p. 167, and shows that they\napproved the discoveries. As to Cardinal Bellarmine himself, it\nwould take us too far out of our way to show from overwhelming\ntestimony that he never questioned the _truth_ of Galileo's\ndoctrine, but only his imprudent manner of propounding it. His\nposition, in his own words, was this, and his words are full of\nwisdom: \"_When a demonstration shall be found_ to establish\nthe earth's motion, it will be proper to interpret the sacred\nScriptures otherwise than they have been hitherto in those\npassages where mention is made of the stability of the earth and\nmovements of the heavens.\" So ended the first judicial inquiry,\nand these two great men, Cardinals Barberini and Bellarmine, thus\nappear to have providentially left on record a sufficient answer\nto modern misrepresentation, while showing themselves to be the\ntrue friends of science. \"Prove your system\"--\"Demonstrate it,\"\nthey substantially say to Galileo--\"and give yourself no concern\nabout the Scriptures!--the theologians will take care of them.\"\nIndeed, the sentiments of these cardinals of the 17th seem to\nanticipate the language of the Holy Father in the 19th century.\n\"This most tender mother, the Catholic Church, recognizes and\njustly proclaims,\" says Pius IX. as cited by Father Hecker in his\n_Aspirations of Nature_, \"that among the gifts of Heaven the\nmost distinguished is that of reason, by means of which we raise\nourselves above the senses, and present in ourselves a certain\nimage of God. Certainly, the church does not condemn the labors\nof those who wish to know the truth, since God has placed in\nhuman nature the desire of laying hold of the true; nor does she\ncondemn the effort of sound and right reason, by which the mind\nor cultivated nature is searched and her more hidden secrets\nbrought to light.\"\n{331}\n(Pius IX.'s letter to the bishops of Austria.) The Holy Father,\nin his various encyclicals, has repeatedly given eloquent\nexpression to the necessity and true use of reason and of\nscience; and these are the worldly arms whose skilful use by our\npriests and missionaries will most avail where worldly arms are\nneeded to carry the outposts of intrenched positions in which\nthere are conversions to make or souls to be saved.\n\nOn the termination of the inquiry of 1616, Galileo had an\naudience with Pope Paul V., who received him very graciously and\ngave him every assurance of good-will and friendship, his\nHoliness assuring him in parting that the Congregation were no\nlonger in a humor to listen lightly to calumnies against him, and\nthat so long as he occupied the papal chair Galileo might\nconsider himself safe. In his introduction to the Dialogue,\n(1630,) Galileo thus speaks of this visit: \"_Mi trovai allora\npresente in Roma; ebbi non solo udienze ma ancora applausi dei\npiu eminenti Prelati di quella Corte_.\"\n\nHere is the certificate referred to, which was given to Galileo\nby Cardinal Bellarmine:\n\n \"We, Robert Bellarmine, having learned that the Signor\n Galileo-Galilei has been subjected to false imputations, and\n that he has been reproached with having made before us\n abjuration of his errors, and that by our order certain\n penances were imposed upon him, declare conformably with truth\n that the said Galileo, neither before us nor before any other\n person whomsoever in Rome, nor in any other place that we are\n aware of, made any sort of retraction in relation to any of his\n opinions or of his ideas, that no punishment or penance was\n inflicted on him; but that a communication was made to him of a\n declaration of his Holiness, our sovereign, which declaration\n was promulgated by the Sacred Congregation of the Index, from\n the tenor of which it results, that 'the doctrine attributed to\n Copernicus as to the pretended movement of the earth round the\n sun, and as to the place which the sun occupies in the centre\n of the world without moving from its rising to its setting, is\n opposed to the Holy Scriptures, and consequently may not be\n defended or held.'\n\n \"In faith of which we have written and signed the present the\n 26th of May, 1616, as here below. (Signed)\n\n \"Robert Cardinal Bellarmine.\"\n\nThe expression \"Holy Scriptures,\" gives the key to the whole\ndifficulty. The Congregation, in the first place, discriminated\nproperly in refusing to recognize as a demonstrated proposition\nthat which as yet was and only could be hypothesis.\n\nWe have seen that it was the unyielding obstinacy of Galileo in\ncontinuing to make it a theological or scriptural question that\ncreated all the trouble; and if any one doubts it, he may be\ncorrected, as was Mr. Drinkwater, by an authority which will\nhardly be questioned:\n\n \"Mr. Drinkwater seems to be mistaken in supposing that Galileo\n did not endeavor to prove his system compatible with Scripture.\n In a letter to Christina, Grand-Duchess of Tuscany, the author\n (Brenna) of the life in Fabbroni's work tells us that he argued\n very elaborately for that purpose. It seems, in fact, to have\n been his over desire to prove his theory orthodox, which\n incensed the church against it.\" (Hallam, _Hist. Lit.\n Europe_, vol. iv. p. 171.)\n\nIn vain Bellarmine cautioned him, \"It was essential that he\nshould _confine himself within his mathematical studies_, if\nhe wished to secure tranquillity for his labors.\" In vain\nCardinal Matteo Barberini gave him the same advice. Still Galileo\npersisted, although from 1616 to 1632 he was not in the slightest\ndegree interfered with, and during all that time never ceased\nreceiving distinguished marks of honor and esteem from pope and\ncardinals.\n\n{332}\n\n URBAN VIII. (BARBERINI.)\n\nIn August, 1623, Cardinal Barberini was elected pope. His\npromotion was hailed by scientific men with enthusiasm. He had\nproved himself the friend of Galileo, and on his accession\naddressed a letter to the Grand-Duke of Tuscany, felicitating him\non the glory redounding to Etruria by reason of the genius and\ndiscoveries of Galileo.\n\nMeantime, in 1618, Galileo had published his _Theory of the\nTides_, chiefly noted for its hostile tone of sarcasm, and its\nscientific incorrectness. He had also been deeply occupied with\nhis method of finding the longitude at sea, and imagined he had\nsucceeded. He was, however, mistaken. His method was a failure.\n\n GALILEO'S THIRD VISIT TO ROME\n\nwas made in the spring of 1624. He was again enthusiastically\nreceived, and admitted to six long and gratifying audiences with\nUrban, whose kindness was most marked. Galileo returned home\nladen with presents, besides a pension from Urban of one hundred\ncrowns yearly, and another of sixty pounds for his son Vincenzo.\n\n\"Thus,\" says the _Edinburgh Review_, \"did the Roman pontiff\npropitiate the excited spirit of the philosopher, and declare\nbefore the Christian world that he was neither the enemy of\nGalileo nor of science.\"\n\nAnd now, honored with all these marks of esteem, confidence, and\nfavor; with the fullest license to prosecute his researches and\npublish his discoveries, provided only that he abstained from any\ntheological complication by dragging the Scriptures into the\ndiscussion, how did Galileo act?\n\nBut before answering the question, let us pause a moment to see\nwhat was the condition and reputation, at Rome itself, of\nastronomical research in the direction of the new doctrines, and\nthe estimate in which they were held.\n\n ASTRONOMY IN ROME.\n\nThe papal court was filled with the personal friends and\nadherents of Galileo and his system. The Pope; Ciampoli, his\nprivate secretary; Castelli, his mathematician; Caesarini, the\nGrand Chamberlain, and the most distinguished among the\ncardinals, were known to entertain the Copernican doctrine. The\ndistinguished Jesuit Torquato de Cuppis was delivering lectures\nin the Roman College in support of Copernicanism. At the Sapienza\nanother Jesuit gave similar lectures. Yet another, the\ndistinguished Scheiner, advanced the system with observations and\ndiscoveries, and, says Bailli, was the first astronomer who\nobserved and explained (_Sol ellipticus_) the elliptic form\nwhich the sun takes in approaching the horizon. The celebrated\nwork of the Carmelite friar Foscarini, at Naples, was published\nfor Roman circulation, and boldly argued not only the Copernican\nhypothesis in all its fulness, but its consistency with\nScripture. But more than and beyond all this, the chair of\nastronomy in the pope's own university of Bologna, vacant by the\ndeath of Magini in 1616, was tendered to Kepler; thus offering\nthe teaching of heretical astronomy to a Protestant heretic, who\nwas if not the most active yet the most efficient advocate of\nCopernicanism!\n\n{333}\n\nIndeed, it may be remarked, since Kepler's name is mentioned,\nthat astronomers were far better off in Catholic Italy than in\nProtestant Germany; for while Galileo was teaching in peace and\nhonor from his professor's chair at Padua, Kepler and Tycho Brahe\nmet for the first time at Prague. Protestant exiles from\nProtestant lands, they found in the munificent protection of\nRudolph safe asylum and an appreciation of their scientific\nmerits denied them at home.\n\n TYCHO BRAHE.\n\nHostility was excited against Brahe at the court of Denmark, and,\non the ground of an exhausted treasury and the _inutility_\nof his studies, he was degraded from his office, deprived of his\ncanonry, his pension, and his Norwegian estate, and both his wife\nand family obliged to seek shelter in a foreign land. His\ninjuries and sufferings preyed upon his mind, and he survived\nonly two years the shameful treatment he had received at the\nhands of his Lutheran countrymen. Lalande, in referring to the\npersecution of Tycho Brahe, holds up the Minister Walchendorf to\nexecration and infamy.\n\n KEPLER\n\nwas forced to leave home, to accept a professorship at the\nCatholic University of Gratz. Why? Wolfgang Menzel informs us,\n(_Geschichte der Deutschen_, vol. ii. p. 645:) \"The\ntheologians of T\u00fcbingen condemned his discovery, because the\nBible teaches that the sun revolves about the earth, and not the\nearth about the sun. He was about to suppress his book, when an\nasylum was opened at Gratz. The Jesuits, who better knew how to\nprize his scientific talent, retained him, although he openly\navowed his Lutheranism. It was only at home that he suffered\npersecution, and it was with difficulty that he succeeded in\nsaving his own mother from being burnt alive as a witch.\"\n[Footnote 129]\n\n [Footnote 129: For other remarkable features of this\n persecution, see _Johann Kepler's Leben und Werken, von G.\n L. C. Freiherrn von Breitschwert_.]\n\nIf we maybe permitted such homely phrase, English literature\n\"draws it very mild\" when obliged to refer to the shameful\ntreatment of Kepler and Tycho Brahe. Their persecutors were the\nProtestant theologians of T\u00fcbingen, and the Lutheran ministers of\nthe Danish court. Consequently, these barbarous transactions are\nalways delicately alluded to when not suppressed, and are but\nlittle known. If these preachers had been Roman priests and\ncardinals--ah! then indeed! As astronomer, Kepler's first task\nwas to draw up the Styrian Calendar for 1594. This only served to\nadd fuel to the flames of the wrath of the W\u00fcrtemberg divines,\ninasmuch as Kepler used the Gregorian calendar. Having no\nantipathy to popes as such, he was willing to take the good and\nthe useful without asking whence it came, and gladly used the\nbetter measure of time.\n\nThe Academic Senate straightway addressed Duke Louis in protest\nagainst the introduction of the detested papal calendar; and\ntheir memorial is so eminently characteristic and comical that we\ncannot deny our readers the enjoyment of its perusal. Here it is:\n\n \"A Christian, sensible, and good-hearted governor knows that in\n reformations of this kind he should take counsel of the\n ministers of the church. As long as the kings of Judah followed\n the counsel of the prophets and other highly enlightened\n ministers of the church, they ruled laudably and well--pleasing\n unto God. It is only when the temporal power is in a member of\n the true church of God that it has authority, with the counsel\n of the ministers of the church, to change the outward\n ceremonies of the church.\n\n{334}\n\n \"As the emperor holds the pope to be the vicar of Christ on\n earth, it is not to be wondered at that he has introduced his\n calendar into his hereditary dominions, and sent it to the\n estates of the Roman empire. Julius Caesar had not members of\n his empire who were lords and rulers themselves like the\n estates of the present Roman empire. The imperial majesty\n understands itself, and, in its letter to the estates, merely\n gives them to understand that this accommodating themselves to\n his word will give the highest satisfaction.\n\n \"But the new calendar has manifestly been devised for the\n furtherance of the idolatrous popish system, and we justly hold\n the pope to be a cruel, devouring, bear-wolf. If we adopt his\n calendar, we must go into the church when he rings for us.\n Shall we have fellowship with Antichrist? And what concord is\n there between Christ and Belial?\n\n \"Should he succeed through the imperial authority in fastening\n his calendar about our neck, he would bring the cord in such a\n way about our horns that we could no longer defend ourselves\n against his tyranny in the church of God.\n\n \"The pope hereby grasps at the electoral hats of the princes of\n the empire. If the new calendar be not generally adopted, the\n world will not go to ruin on that account. Summer will not come\n sooner or later if the vernal equinox should be set a few days\n further back or forward in the calendar; no peasant will be so\n simple as, on account of the calendar, to send out his reapers\n at Whitsuntide, or the gatherers into his vineyard at St.\n James' day. These are merely the pretexts of the people who\n stroke the foxtail of the pope and would not be thought to do\n so. Satan is driven out of the Christian church. We will not\n let him slip in again through his representative the pope.\"\n\nAnd since we speak of Kepler, it may here be remarked that the\nappreciation in which Galileo and Kepler are held in general\nhistorical literature is far from according with the estimate of\nscientific men. It is assumed that Galileo was persecuted, and\nthat the church was his persecutor. Elevated on the pedestal of\nhis trial at Rome, the man of science is lost in the martyr, and\nthe Tuscan philosopher appears in bold relief on the page of\nhistory, while Kepler, the greater astronomer, remains invisible.\nIt is thought, and not without reason, that, but for the\nInquisition, the relative reputation of these two great men would\nbe reversed, and the transcendent genius of Galileo's Lutheran\ncontemporary, the legislator of the planets, have been long since\nrecognized. In their anxiety to make the strongest possible case\nagainst Rome, anti-Catholic writers have, some perhaps\nunconsciously, and some with set purpose, greatly exaggerated all\nthe abilities and good qualities of Galileo, and invested him\nwith a superiority far from merited. To believe them, one must\nlook upon Galileo as immeasurably excelling all his predecessors\nand contemporaries--centring within himself almost superhuman\nqualities of research and scientific attainment. Merit, talent,\ngenius, Galileo certainly possessed; but tried by a scientific\nstandard, it was inferior to that of the more modest and less\nclamorous Kepler.\n\nGalileo's true and enduring merit as founder of the modern\nscience of dynamics, and as the author of the grandly suggestive\nprinciple of the virtual velocities, is entirely overlooked to\nclaim for him a position in modern astronomy which cannot justly\nbe accorded to him except as secondary to Copernicus, to Kepler,\nand probably to Newton. The preeminence claimed for the Tuscan\nastronomer will not stand the test of examination. With English\nreaders, it mainly rests on Hume's celebrated parallel between\nBacon and Galileo. \"The discoveries of Kepler,\" remarks Professor\nPlayfair, \"were secrets extracted from nature by the most\nprofound and laborious research. The astronomical discoveries of\nGalileo, more brilliant and imposing, were made at a far less\nexpense of intellectual labor.\" [Footnote 130]\n\n [Footnote 130: M. Thomas Henri Martin, author of the very\n latest work on Galileo, is not at all of the Scotch\n professor's opinion, but follows and even surpasses Hume in\n laudation of Galileo.]\n\n{335}\n\n MARTYRS OF SCIENCE.\n\nBut to return. If, besides Kepler and Tycho Brahe, another martyr\nof science is needed, he may be seen in the person of Descartes,\nhunted clown by the Protestant churchmen of Holland.\n\nNay, if suffering science herself is looked for, she may be found\nin the Gregorian calendar, for more than a century refused\nadmission or recognition by an English parliament that would\nrather quarrel with all the stars in heaven than count time with\nRome! \"Truth,\" as Hallam remarks, \"being no longer truth when\npromulgated by the pope!\" Among the very few men in all England\nwho treated the Gregorian calendar with any degree of politeness\nwas Lord Chesterfield, then a member of parliament. He writes,\n(March 18th, 1751, old style,) \"The Julian calendar was\nerroneous, and had overcharged the solar year with eleven days.\nPope Gregory XIII. corrected this error. His reformed calendar\nwas immediately received by all the Catholic powers of Europe,\nand afterward adopted by all the Protestant ones except Russia,\nSweden, and England. It was not, in my opinion, very honorable\nfor England to remain in a gross and avowed error, especially in\nsuch company. The inconvenience of it was likewise felt by all\nthose who had foreign correspondences, whether political or\nmercantile.\"\n\nLord Chesterfield was mainly instrumental in getting up the bill\nfor its introduction. On mentioning the project to the prime\nminister, the Duke of Newcastle, then in the zenith of his power,\nthe noble duke seemed most conservatively alarmed at such an\nundertaking, and conjured the earl (Chesterfield) not to stir\nmatters that had long been quiet; adding that he did not love\nnew-fangled things. Lord Mahon, in his history, gives several\ncurious instances of the resentment of the English people against\nthose who aided in bringing about the change in the calendar;\nthus, when in 1754 Lord Macclesfield's son stood a great\ncontested election in Oxfordshire, one of the most vehement cries\nraised against him was, \"Give us back the eleven days we have\nbeen robbed of!\" and even several years later, when Bradley, the\nastronomer, worn down by his labors in the cause of science, was\nsinking under mortal disease, many of the common people ascribed\nhis sufferings to a judgment of Heaven for having taken part in\nthat infamous undertaking.\n\nSuffering science may again be found in England in the person of\nAlban Francis, insultingly refused the degree of A.M. by the\nUniversity of Cambridge in 1687, but afterward mockingly offered\nit on condition that he--a Benedictine monk--should take the\nstate oath pronouncing the Catholic religion damnable and\nidolatrous, when it was well known that the degree had been given\nto men of every variety of nationality and religious profession,\neven in one case to the Mohammedan secretary of the ambassador of\nMorocco!\n\nSuffering science again in the English statutes, 7th Will. III.,\nch. 4, s. 1 and 9, by virtue of which:\n\n 1. If a Catholic in Ireland kept school, or taught any person\n any species of literature or science, such teacher was\n punishable by law with banishment; and if he returned, he was\n subject _to be hanged as a felon_.\n\n 2. If a Catholic child received literary instruction from a\n Catholic, either privately or at school, such child, even\n though in its infancy, incurred a forfeiture of all its\n property present or future.\n\n{336}\n\n 3. And thus deprived of the means of knowledge, if the Catholic\n child went into a foreign country for education, the child\n incurred the same penalty, as also the person making any\n remittance of goods or money for its maintenance!\n\nSuffering science again, within but a few years, in the persons\nof such geological writers as Dr. Buckland, denounced by leading\nEnglish periodicals and respectable quarterlies--recognized\norgans of Protestant opinion--(each one a special,\nself-constituted, oecumenical council _ad hoc_,) for\nassigning dates to rocks and fossil remains, which were supposed\nby alarmed Protestant theologians to vary from the Mosaic\naccounts.\n\nWe present these facts not by way of the justification that,\nignorance and persecution being alleged to exist on the Catholic\nside, there are also such things as Protestant persecution and\nignorance; for the one will not excuse the other, any more than\ntwo wrongs will make a right.\n\nPass your own conscientious verdict, reader, on all these\ntransactions, and bear in mind that Galileo's real enemies were\nof the same class of men who persecuted Kepler in W\u00fcrtemberg,\nTycho Brahe in Denmark, and Descartes in Holland. The first were\nCatholic, all the last were Protestants; but all were adherents\nof the old Ptolemaic system and the Aristotelian philosophy. And\nthat was the field on which the battle was fought in Italy, until\nGalileo insisted on dragging in the Scriptures. The pope and the\ncardinals esteemed and honored Galileo personally, and, as we\nsee, were far from being in the Peripatetic ranks.\n\nBut how did Galileo act after leaving Rome in 1616, and why was\nhe, of all the well-known Copernicans, singled out for\nprosecution?\n\n WHENCE THE CHANGE?\n\nHow came it about? Were there elements in the controversy other\nthan scientific? Was it, or not, the fault of Galileo that the\nquestion was shifted from the safe repose of the scientific basis\non which it had remained more than fourscore years?\n\nNow we could readily answer these questions thoroughly in very\nfew words, feeling certain, in advance, that the reply would be\nsatisfactory to our Catholic readers. But, writing for the\ngeneral public, we prefer to present the results ascertained in\nthis much vexed matter by historians, astronomers, and men of\nscience removed by nationality and by religion from any possible\nbias.\n\n\"It was not the doctrine itself,\" says Mr. Drinkwater, \"so much\nas the free, unyielding manner in which it was supported, which\nwas originally obnoxious.\"\n\n\"The church party,\" admits Sir David Brewster, \"were not disposed\nto interfere with the prosecution of science, however much they\nmay have dreaded its influence.\"\n\nIn the opinion of Dr. Whewell, \"Under the sagacious and powerful\nsway of Copernicus, astronomy had effected a glorious triumph;\nbut under the bold and uncompromising sceptre of Galileo, all her\nconquests were irrevocably lost.\" And he adds, referring to the\nmisfortunes that assailed the reformers of philosophy, \"But the\nmost unfortunate were, for the most part, the least temperate and\njudicious.\" (_Philosophy of Discovery_, pp. 101-2.)\n\nEven Fra Paolo (Sarpi) thought that if Galileo had been less\nimpetuous and more prudent, he need not have had the slightest\ndifficulty.\n\n{337}\n\nTiraboschi expresses himself to the same effect. And Alberi, the\nlearned editor of the only complete edition of Galileo's works,\nsays: \"Crediamo col Tiraboschi, che il fervore e l'impetuosit\u00e0\nsua contribuissero ad irritare gli avversari del sistema\nCopernico.\"\n\n\"It is doubtless an extraordinary fact,\" says the _Edinburgh\nReview_, (October, 1837,) \"in the history of the human mind,\nthat the very same doctrines which had been published with\nimpunity by Copernicus, and in a work, too, dedicated to the\nRoman Pontiff, Paul III., for the avowed purpose of sheltering\nthem under his sacred aegis, should, nearly a hundred years\nafterward, when civilization had made some progress, have\nsubjected Galileo to all the terrors of the Inquisition. If we\nstudy, however, the conduct of Galileo himself, and consider his\ntemper and tone of mind, and his connection with a political\nparty unfriendly to religion, as well as to papal government, we\nshall be at no loss to account for the different feelings with\nwhich the writings of Copernicus and Galileo were received. Had\nthe Tuscan philosopher been a recluse student of nature who, like\nCopernicus, announced his opinions as accessions to knowledge,\nand not as subversive of old and deeply cherished errors; had he\nstood alone as the fearless arbiter and champion of truth, the\nRoman pontiffs would, probably, like Paul III., have tolerated\nthe new doctrine; and like him, too, they might probably have\nembraced it. But Galileo contrived to surround the truth with\nevery variety of obstruction. The tide of knowledge which had\nhitherto advanced in peace, he crested with angry breakers; and\nhe involved in its surf both his friends and his enemies. When\nthe more violent partisans of the church, in opposition to the\nwishes of some of its higher functionaries, and spurred on by the\nschool-men and the personal enemies of Galileo, had fixed the\npublic attention upon the obnoxious doctrine, it would not have\nbeen easy for the most tolerant pontiff to dismiss charges of\nheresy and irreligion without some formal decision on the\nsubject.\"\n\nThe astronomer D\u00e9lambre: \"On aurait pass\u00e9 \u00e0 Galileo, de parler en\nmath\u00e9maticien de l'excellence de la nouvelle hypoth\u00e8se; mais on\nsoutenait qu'il devait abandonner aux th\u00e9ologiens\nl'interpretation de l'Ecriture.\" (It was free to Galileo to speak\nas a mathematician of the merit of the new doctrine; but it was\nclaimed that he should leave interpretation of Scripture to the\ntheologians.)\n\nThe historian Hallam: \"For eighty years the theory of the earth's\nmotion had been maintained without censure, and it could only be\nthe greater boldness of Galileo which drew upon him the notice of\nthe church.\"\n\nPhilar\u00e8te Chasles, (Professor in the College of France:)\n\"Galileo, a man of vast and fertile intellect, was not in advance\nof his age and country; he was incapable either of defending the\ntruth or eluding the efforts of those who endeavored to destroy\nit. In his contests with the latter, he showed neither grandeur\nof mind nor frankness of character. Unstable, timorous,\nequivocating, and supple,\" etc., etc.\n\nAlfred von Reumont, many years Prussian minister at the Court of\nTuscany, (see his _Beitr\u00e4ge zur Italienischen Geschichte_,\nBerlin, 1853:) \"Galileo's great mistake was, that he insisted on\nbringing into conformity with the Scriptures the doctrine of the\nearth's motion--a hypothetical and then incomplete doctrine, and\none denied by many of the most learned, such as Bacon and Tycho\nBrahe.\n{338}\nSo that, in the interpretation of certain passages in the Bible,\nan arbitrary discretion was assumed which the Church, according\nto her invariable principles, could not concede to an\nastronomical doctrine as yet unproved.\"\n\nSuch citations as these might be multiplied indefinitely. But\nthey are sufficient, and more than sufficient.\n\nCopernicus, as we have seen, dedicated his great work to Pope\nPaul III., with these remarkable words: \"Astronomers being\npermitted to imagine circles, to explain the motions of the\nstars, I thought myself equally entitled to examine if the\nsupposition of the motion of the earth would make the theory of\nthese appearances more exact and simple.\"\n\nEighty years had gone by, and the system had undergone no\n\"persecution,\" in Italy at least. Galileo was now sixty years of\nage; nearly forty of these years had been passed, not only in the\nsafe but triumphant and even aggressive and defiant vindication\nof his astronomical and physical doctrines, without let or\nhindrance save the warning not to trench on the theological view.\nBut this he could not bring himself to consent to, and in 1618,\nin publishing his _Theory of the Tides_, he indulged in a\nstream of sarcasm and insult against the decree of 1616. \"The\nsame hostile tone, more or less,\" says Drinkwater, \"pervaded all\nhis writings; and while he labored to sharpen the edge of his\nsatire, he endeavored to guard himself against its effects by an\naffectation of the humblest deference to the decisions of\ntheology.\" Nor was Galileo's letter to Christina forgotten. It\nwas a letter, widely diffused at Rome and in Tuscany, in which he\nundertook to prove theologically, and from reasons drawn from the\nfathers, that the terms of Scripture might be reconciled with his\nnew doctrines, etc. D\u00e9lambre, Hallam, and Biot all take the same\nview of it.\n\n THE CELEBRATED DIALOGUES.\n\nGalileo had now resolved to publish a work demonstrating the\nCopernican theory, or rather, his own views of the earth's\nmotion. But he lacked the courage or the sincerity to do it in an\nopen, straightforward manner, and adopted the plan of discussing\nit in a supposed dialogue held by three disputants. The two\nfirst, Sagredo and Salviati, are represented as accomplished and\nlearned gentlemen, whose arguments are marked by talent and\nability. The third, Simplicio, is an old Peripatetic, querulous\nand dogmatic, measuring everything by Aristotle, and accepting or\nrejecting accordingly.\n\nThis work, entitled _The System of the World of\nGalileo-Galilei_, was completed in 1630; but, owing to the\ndelays attending the procuring a certificate, it was not\npublished until 1633. \"It is prolix and diffuse,\" says D\u00e9lambre,\n\"with high estimate of his own discoveries, but depreciation of\nothers.\" \"Indeed, I would advise scholars,\" says Arago, \"not to\nlose their time reading it.\"\n\nMore than one historian has remarked that, in obtaining the\nlicense to print, Galileo exhibited a dexterous management,\ntinged with bad faith. Biot mentions, \"par quels detours il s'en\nprocura une approbation a Rome;\" D\u00e9lambre speaks of his \"manque\nabsolu de sinc\u00e9rit\u00e9;\" and Sir David Brewster says, \"His memory\nhas not escaped the imputation of having acted unfairly, and of\nhaving involved his personal friends in the consequences of his\nimprudence.\"\n\n{339}\n\nIn as few words as possible, the history of the license affair is\nas follows. The censor of new publications at Rome was Riccardi,\na friend and pupil of Galileo, and devoted to his master. Anxious\nto oblige him, Riccardi examined the manuscript of the dialogues,\nsuggested the change of some imprudent language, and required\nabsolutely that the Copernican doctrine, dogmatically presented,\nshould be--either in the exordium or peroration of the\nargument--produced simply as a mathematical hypothesis. Under\nthese stipulations Riccardi returned the manuscript with his\nwritten approbation, only to be used when the suggested\nalterations should be made.\n\nThis was in 1630. In 1633, Galileo applied for leave to have his\nbook printed in Florence. Riccardi, with full confidence in\nGalileo's fulfilment of his promises, merely inspected the\nbeginning and end of the book, which was all that Galileo then\nsubmitted to his examination, and gave the desired leave to\nprint.\n\nThe introduction, addressed, with an air of sarcasm, \"_to the\ndiscreet reader_\" was, to the last degree, imprudent. He\nspeaks of the decree of 1616 in language at once ironical and\ninsulting, and does not even spare his benefactors. In Simplicio,\nevery one instantly recognized Urban VIII., who was naturally\nwounded beyond expression to find language put in Simplicio's\nmouth that he, Urban, had used to Galileo in a private\nconversation at his own table. And, as if to leave no doubt\npossible, Galileo says, in introducing these passages, that he\nhad them from a most learned and eminent personage, (\"_gi\u00e0\nappreso da doctissima e eminentissima persona._\")\n\nThus held up to ridicule and contempt, and made the butt of the\nseverest irony and sarcasm, Urban was placed in the false\nposition of the enemy of science, and forced into the attitude of\nan antagonist of his former friend--unless, indeed, he would\nconsent to be dragged, a disgraced prisoner, at the\nchariot-wheels of Galileo's philosophy.\n\nWe do not refer, in speaking of Galileo's philosophy, to a mere\nastronomical theory, but to the philosophical and theological\nopinion which the actual condition of science, the ability of\nGalileo's adversaries, and the treacherous counsels of his false\nfriends had forced him to couple with it.\n\nAlberi, who is high authority, denies that it was Galileo's\nintention to attack Urban VIII. through Simplicio. But Olivieri,\nquite as good authority, is of the contrary opinion.\n\nWe know certainly that Urban always maintained, in his\nconversations with Galileo, the worthlessness of the tidal\ntheory, and told him plainly that he injured his position by\nresting upon it. Now, the tidal theory was precisely Galileo's\ncherished argument, and he devotes the whole of the fourth\ndialogue to its development.\n\n Concluded In Our Next.\n\n ----------\n\n{340}\n\n Translated From Der Katholik.\n\n The Ancient Irish Church.\n\n\n II.\n\nWe must say something about St. Columbanus, and his labors in\nLuxeuil, Braganza, and Bobbio; and of St. Gall, the apostle of\nAlemania; for it was through these two that the ancient Irish\nChurch did so much in Switzerland and south-western Germany.\n\nColumbanus was born in the province of Leinster, about the year\n534, when Christianity began to bear its first fruits in Ireland.\nWhile the child was yet in the womb, his mother saw, in a vision,\nas it were, a sun proceeding from her body and enlightening all\nparts of the world. The son whom she bore became in fact, through\nthe light of his wisdom and the splendor of his virtues, a star\nin the church; not only in Ireland, but also in Burgundy,\nAlemania, and Italy. Instructed, from early youth, in grammar,\nrhetoric, geometry, and in the study of the holy Scriptures, he\nleft his mother's house in manhood, in order to enter the\nmonastery of Cluain-Inis, and consecrate himself entirely to God.\nIn the year 565 he asked to be received among the monks of the\nmonastery at Bangor, which the Abbot Comgall, equally\ndistinguished by his personal sanctity as well as by the rigor of\nthe discipline which he used in governing, ruled with applause.\nColumbanus became so remarkable here that Abbot Comgall entrusted\nhim with the directorship of the schools. The fame of the new\nteacher spread far beyond the limits of Bangor, and the nobles of\nthe land deemed themselves happy to be able to leave their sons\nto be educated by a man as well skilled in profane science as in\nChristian perfection. Gall, born in Ireland in 545, became one of\nhis pupils. Columbanus and Gall taught and learned in a blessed\nabode. Three thousand monks were united in the monastery of\nBangor, under Abbot Comgall, in common prayer, the practice of\nvirtue, and a virtuous life. The monastery was built in the year\n558, by Comgall, and was, in its first form, a collection of many\ncells and huts, somewhat straggling in their arrangement. Bangor\nwas fruitful in holy men and apostolic missionaries. Many\nconvents were founded from it. Comgall himself founded the\nmonastery of Heth, in Scotland, A.D. 565, and the monastery of\nCambar, and several other smaller communities, in Leinster.\nComgall died on the 10th of May, 602, in the 85th year of his\nage, and the forty-fourth after the foundation of Bangor. Bangor\nwas laid waste by the Danes in the year 823, afterward entirely\ndestroyed by pirates, and on one day the Picts murdered 900\nmonks. Archbishop Malachy, of Armagh, re-erected Bangor. There\nnow remains on the coast of the bay of Belfast, where the\nrenowned cloister once stood, no vestige of its former greatness.\n\nColumbanus had lived and taught a number of years in the cloister\nof Bangor, when the desire of travelling and announcing the\ngospel of Christ filled his soul. He was obliged, however, to\nmake repeated requests before Abbot Comgall gave him permission\nto depart, and allowed him to choose a certain number of monks as\nhis companions.\n{341}\nColumbanus chose twelve, recommended himself to the prayers of\nthe rest, and set out, after receiving the blessings of his\nabbot, with his chosen band about the year 589-590. We know the\ntravels of Columbanus, and must mention them here. The chosen\nfollowers of the great apostle were: Gall, founder of Saint Gall,\nand apostle of Alemania; Cominnius, Emroch, and Equanach, Lua,\nand Patentianus, afterwards made bishop of Constance, in\nArmorica, where he erected a monastery; Antiernus, who, becoming\nhomesick at Luxeuil, wished to return to Ireland, but was\nretained by Columbanus; Columbanus the younger, a near relative\nof our apostle, died in the early part of his life, at Luxeuil;\nDeicola, the founder of the monastery of Lutra, in the diocese of\nBesan\u00e7on; Sigibert, the founder of Dissentis, in Croatia; Aldan,\nlater Bishop of Calboaldus. (_Greith_, p. 272.) In British\nCambria the holy company joined several British clerics to its\nranks.\n\nWhither did these apostolic men wish to go?\n\nIt was not advisable to remain in Britain at that time. In the\nsouth of this land the Anglo-Saxon conquerors laid waste the\ncountry, destroyed the churches; both heathenism and barbarism\nraised their heads triumphantly in the most populous parts and\ncities of the island. The two last bishops of Britain, he of\nLondon and he of York, fled to the mountains of Wales, with all\nthe holy relics and church vessels which they could save. On\naccount of these circumstances Columbanus determined to leave\nBritain, to sail for Gaul, and there improve the moral condition\nof the people, so that if success attended his labors, the good\nseed might be scattered there with fruit; but if the people were\nstiff-necked, he would turn to other nations.\n\nThe company went to Gaul. This land was divided into three\nkingdoms: Neustria, Austrasia, and Burgundy. King Guntram ruled\nin Burgundy; King Childebert in Austrasia; but after Guntram's\ndeath, (A.D. 593,) Burgundy also fell to the share of Childebert.\n\nColumbanus was warmly received at Metz by King Childebert, was\ninvited to remain in the land, and received from Count Agnoald\nthe ancient ruined castle of Luxovium in the Vosges, where the\napostle and his monks dwelt, and exercised an extraordinary\ninfluence on the people of the neighboring countries.\n\nBut how did the noble wanderers find life in the Vosges?\n\nThey first rested at Anegrai. \"In the wide circle around, the\nregion was a wild desert of thick woods, and steep, rock-ribbed\nhills; bears and wolves dwelt in them, and only the shrill cry of\nthe birds of the forests broke the frightful stillness. The\nfriars built their huts with twigs and branches. They lived on\nthe bark of trees, wild vegetables, and apples, until, on the\nthird day after their arrival, a countryman brought them better\nfood on a wagon. But, as want returned after a short time, they\nwere well supplied with bread and herbs by the abbot of the\nmonastery of Sancy, three miles distant from them.\"\n\nBut the first monastery was erected, and the mission opened in\nFrance. Soon the place in Anegrai was not large enough for the\nincreasing number of the brethren.\n\nColumbanus looked around for a second place in the wilderness of\nthe Vosges. His eyes rested on Luxovium, which had already been\noffered to him. It was eight miles from Anegrai. There were in it\nthe ruins of cities, of old baths; and in the thickest part of\nthe wood, stone idols, which had been worshipped in ancient\ntimes.\n\n{342}\n\nIn this spot Columbanus began the building of a larger monastery.\nSoon so many came and consecrated themselves, under the guidance\nof Columbanus, to piety and science, that the saint was compelled\nto erect on a height, supplied by a fountain of fair water, a\nthird monastery, to which he gave the name of Fontaine,\n(Fontanas.) Whilst he appointed approved men as rulers over these\nmonasteries, he maintained a general supervision over them all,\nand gave them a common rule, which he copied in part from the\nrule of the Abbot Comgall, of Bangor.\n\nThe Right Rev. Dr. Greith gives us a very interesting account of\nthe life and works of the monk Columbanus in the three\nmonasteries; but we can only give a small portion of it here.\n\nIn the year 600 the number of the monks at Luxeuil had increased\nto 220; and crowds of scholars were instructed in the\nmonasteries.\n\n\"All must fast daily, but also daily take nourishment; and as all\nmust eat daily, so must they daily partake of spiritual food,\npray, work, and read in books every day.\" The special usages of\nmonastic discipline were observed most strictly in the three\ncloisters; violators of rules were punished with rods,\nimprisonment, or a portion of their food was kept from them.\n\"Before eating there was an examination of conscience, then grace\nwas said, and there was reading during the meals. Before a monk\nused his spoon, he should make the sign of the cross; the same\nshould be done in taking his lamp, in undertaking any work, or in\ngoing out of the cloister. He was commanded to pray before and\nafter labor, and on his return to the monastery he should go\nbefore the abbot or superior and ask a blessing. Whoever cut the\ntable with his knife, spilled beer or anything else on the table,\ndid not gather the bread-crumbs, neglected to bow his head at the\nend of the psalms, or disturbed the chaunt with coughing or loud\nlaughter, was punished,\" etc. Divine service at Luxeuil consisted\nin the daily reciting of the psalms, and, especially on Sundays\nand other festivals, in the celebration of Mass. The custom of\nuninterrupted psalmody by day and night never prevailed at\nLuxeuil, as was the case among the monks of Agane in Wallis, and\nof Haben in Burgundy, and among the nuns of the convent of St.\nSalaberga.\n\nColumbanus, well educated in both profane and sacred literature,\ntaught his own monks, made them acquainted with the discipline of\nthe _Quadrivium_, and gave them a knowledge of holy\nScripture.\n\nColumbanus often retired at the approach of the principal feasts\ninto the solitude of the forests to devote himself to piety and\nmeditation. He sometimes remained fifty days or longer in those\nplaces. As in the ages of persecution the blood of the martyrs\ntamed the tigers and leopards, so that they learned to pity the\nsaints in the circus and amphitheatre; as in the deserts of\nAfrica and Asia Minor holy monks formed a league with nature and\nits animals, so Columbanus and Gall, whose life was like that of\nthe early fathers of the desert, stood in the most friendly\nrelations with the wild beasts of the Vosges. \"As Columbanus was\nwalking one day in the wide forests of the Vosges with a book\nunder his arm, he saw a pack of wolves approaching. The saint\nstood unmoved.\n{343}\nThe wolves surrounded him on both hands, smelled the hem of his\ngarments while he prayed to God for protection; they did him no\nharm, left him and went farther into the wood.\" Once Columbanus\nfound in a cave a tame bear, which left its abode at command of\nthe saint, who made it his place of shelter. Often, as he reposed\nunder the shadow of old oaks, he called the beasts of the forest\nto him, and they followed him. He caressed them tenderly; and the\nbirds often flew to him, and sat quietly on his shoulders. A\nlittle squirrel had become so accustomed to him as to leap from\nthe branches of the trees and hide in his bosom, run up his\nsleeves, and then go back to the nearest boughs. A raven was so\nobedient to him as to return the glove which he had stolen from\nthe saint. (Page 294.)\n\nColumbanus could not remain long in his cloister. He became\nengaged in a controversy with some French priests, and was\npersecuted by the corrupt Merovingians, who finally compelled him\nto quit Luxeuil.\n\nThe fact that the Irish clergy clung to the ancient custom of the\nIrish Church regarding the celebration of Easter, and to the\nIrish traditions regarding the liturgy of the Mass, gave the\nFrench bishops and priests occasion to complain and make\nopposition. Columbanus wrote three letters on the Easter\nControversy to Pope Gregory I. Two of them miscarried; the third\nreached its destination, but was unsuccessful, because Gregory I.\nmaintained the discipline of the Roman Church on this disputed\npoint. A synod in France, A.D. 600-601, to which Columbanus sent\na memorial, did not favor him any more than the Pope. The\ncontroversy gradually died out.\n\nThe controversy with the Merovingians was far more serious. The\ncrimes of Queen Brunhilda are well known; for instance, how she\nsystematically ruined her grandson, King Theodoric of Burgundy.\nColumbanus on one occasion having refused to give his blessing to\nthe illegitimate sons of Theodoric, presented to the saint by\nBrunhilda, she swore vengeance against him. A royal decree was\npublished that no monk of the order of Columbanus should leave\nhis monastery; that no Burgundian convert should for the future\nhold communion with him, and that no one should establish another\nfoundation according to his discipline. Columbanus expostulated\nin vain; he wrote a severe protest to the king and threatened him\nwith excommunication. This was the moment of revenge for\nBrunhilda. She prevailed on the king to cause the abduction of\nthe saint to Besan\u00e7on by Count Bandulf. Columbanus remained there\nfor some time, highly honored by the people, and doing much good.\nBut he soon returned to Luxeuil. The king, however, sent a whole\ncohort to seize him and take him out of the kingdom. The soldiers\nunwillingly executed their orders. The saint left the monastery\namid the sighs and tears of his monks, who followed him in\nfunereal procession with weeping and wailing. Only those whom he\nhad brought from Ireland and Britain were allowed to accompany\nhim. Columbanus lived twenty years in the wilderness of the\nVosges, and left it in the seventy-fourth year of his life. (A.D.\n609-610.)\n\nLet us be brief. Columbanus was brought to Nantes to sail for\nIreland; but God prevented him. King Clothaire of Neustria\nallowed him to return to Austrasia. He went to Metz, then to\nMayence, up the Rhine, until he came to Zurich, where he decided\nto make a longer stay.\n{344}\nBut the inhabitants of the place were fierce idolaters. Many were\nconverted, while others took arms in hatred of the saint,\ndetermined to kill himself and his companions. They consequently\nleft this region and went to Arbon, where they dwelt seven days;\nthence travelling to Braganza, where they built cells near the\nancient Aurelia Church. St. Gall took the three idols from the\nwalls of the church, in the presence of a vast multitude, broke\nthem to pieces, and threw them into the sea. A portion of the\npeople became Christians, and the Aurelia Church was\nreconsecrated. Columbanus remained a few years in Braganza, when\npersecutions of various kinds compelled him to quit this region\nalso. (612-613.) He crossed the Rhetian Alps, accompanied only by\nAttala, and arrived at Milan, where he was well received by\nAgilulf, king of the Lombards, who offered him a new field for\nthe exercise of his apostolate. King Agilulf and Queen\nTheodolinda used the holy man for the evangelizing of the\nLombards. But his days were numbered. After building a monastery\nand a chapel at Bobbio, he lived only an entire year, and died on\nthe 21st December, in the year 615, in the seventy-ninth year of\nhis age, one year before the death of Agilulf, king of Lombardy.\n\n\"Whilst Ireland glories in being the fatherland of Columbanus,\nFrance remembers him in her old abbeys in the Vosges, and his\nvocation to Italy still lives, not only in the dear relics of\nBobbio, in his coffin, chalice, and holly staff, but also in the\nstill living monument of his glory the town of St. Columbano, in\nthe district of Lodi. The writings of this distinguished man,\nwhich have come down to us, display a comprehensive and varied\nknowledge not only of ecclesiastical but also of classic\nliterature. His eventful life has been written by the monk Jonas\nof Bobbio.\"\n\nWe shall conclude with a few details of the mission of St. Gall,\nthe apostle of Alemania. We already know in what an illustrious\nschool he studied. When Columbanus was preparing himself for the\njourney to Italy, Gall was sick with a fever, and excused himself\nfrom travelling with his superior. In order to keep him and\ncompel him to go, Columbanus harshly said to him, \"If thou wilt\nnot partake in my labors, I forbid thee to say Mass as long as I\nlive.\" He suspected that Gall feigned sickness out of love for\nthe place, so as not to depart from it. Thus Gall, who had been\nso long under obedience, was at length left to his own will.\n\nHe went to Arbon to visit a priest, Willimar, and was nursed\nduring his illness by the clerics Maginald and Theodore, and,\nhaving recovered his health, became again an efficient apostle\nthrough the assistance of Christ. In 612-613, he began, with his\ncompanion Hittibold, the building of a monastery on the bank of\nthe little river Steinach. This valley on the banks of the\nSteinach, together with Thurgau, belonged at that time to the\nkingdom of Austrasia, from which it had been severed under\nChildebert II. (594) for a short time, and separated from\nBurgundy, to which it was again annexed by King Dagobert. (A.D.\n630-38.) Two hundred years later, in the days of Charlemagne,\nthis region was called High Alemania. When Gall came to it, it\nwas almost without dwellings or inhabitants. It was a primeval\nforest, never inhabited for a thousand years, and never touched\nby human hands. It was like the woods of the Vosges, a wilderness\nfor savage beasts to roam in without danger.\n{345}\nThe wood which Gall and Hittibold found was full of underwood in\nwhich serpents nestled; the Steinach was full of fish; on the\nheights hawks built their nests; bears, wolves, and wild boars\nwere numerous around. In this spot St. Gall built his monastery.\nWonderful things happened at the building of this convent, all of\nwhich is charmingly told in Greith's book. \"As, in every spot\nwhere, after the migration of the Germanic races, (p. 355.) holy\nmen founded religious institutions, a new life was infused and a\nnew impetus given to civilization, and the wild and savage\ndistricts around the monasteries became changed into fertile and\nwell-tilled plains; so did it happen in the neighborhood of St.\nGall's monastery from the very beginning of the foundation. The\nblessed place drew inhabitants near it; Christian worship became\nthe focus around which they gathered; religious instruction\nennobled their morals, led them to an orderly family life, made\ntheir new home dear to them, and made them love labor and\nindustry. Under the mild protection and guidance of the monastic\nfraternity, strangers and colonists came from far and near; they\nbecame fiefs of the monastery, and aided in spreading its\ninfluence and its possessions. From this centre civilization\nspread far over the surrounding country, so that it became by\ncultivation transformed from a wilderness into a blooming garden.\nFor twelve hundred years the numerous subjects of the monastery\nof St. Gall led a happy and peaceful life without soldiers or\npolice. The only bayonet that governed them was the breviary of\nthe monk; and the only sword was the crosier of the abbot. We\nmust also remember that Gall and his followers, axe in hand,\nhewed down the forest, or with the spade freed the earth from\nthorns, thistles, and roots. He must therefore be considered as\nthe founder and originator of the agricultural and social glories\nof Switzerland; for by the law of nature and of intelligence the\nglories of the effect must redound to the honor of the cause.\"\n\nThe building of the monastery of St. Gall was far advanced when\nGall expelled an evil spirit from Fridiburga, the daughter of the\nGerman Duke Cunzo, of Ueberlingen. Duke Cunzo gave him many\npresents on this account, as did also King Sigibert, to whom\nFridiburga was affianced. Sigibert sent him a donation letter,\nthe first on record in the life of St. Gall. Gall had at this\ntime only twelve disciples with him, deeming it improper to\noverstep, in the smallest particular, the limits of the rule. The\nIrish monks had a peculiar preference for the apostolic number\ntwelve in all their foundations. When Columbanus died, on\nDecember 21st, 615, the hour of his death was revealed to St.\nGall, and from that time he began again to celebrate Mass.\n\nGall declined the bishopric of Constance, and had the mitre given\nto his disciple John; the monks of Luxeuil wished him to be their\nabbot, but this honor he likewise declined. After the man of God\nhad thrown aside the burden of worldly affairs, he retired to his\ncloister, to devote himself more completely to a spiritual life.\nHis nightly vigils were renewed, and the fastings of his early\ndays repeated, and the discipline frequently used.\n\nFinally, at an advanced age, he left his cell to visit Arbon, and\nafter preaching to the people, he was attacked by a fever as he\nwas about to return. The malady became so violent that he could\nno longer take any food. The eternal reward of his great works\nand services approached.\n{346}\nHis strength almost gone, almost reduced to skin and bone by\ndisease, he nevertheless persevered in prayer, held pious\nconversations, and remained faithful to the service of Christ to\nthe end of his life. He rendered his soul to God, after fourteen\ndays' illness, on the 16th of October, A.D. 640. His body was\nbrought by Bishop John to the monastery which the saint had\ninhabited, and buried between the altar and the wall, with\nmournful chanting. Many infirm persons were healed, partially or\nentirely, at his sepulchre.\n\nEven during his life Gall was compared to the early fathers;\nafter his death, the Church honored him as a saint; holy Mass was\noffered at his tomb; his intercession was invoked with success;\nand his life presented as a model for Christians to imitate.\nEleven years after the death of the saint, his tomb was broken\nopen by robbers; but shortly after replaced by Bishop Boso, of\nConstance. (A.D. 642-676.) When the great monastery church was\nconsecrated, on October 17th, 839, by Abbot Gotzbert, the bones\nof the saint were placed on the high altar. They are partially\npreserved there to this very day.\n\nA glance now at the disciples of Gall. The disciples of this\ngreat apostle went forth in all directions from his sepulchre to\nevangelize the nations, and establish among them new foundations\nand centres of learning and piety. Theodore built the abbey of\nKempten, in ancient Norica; Magnus travelled on foot to the\nentrance of the Julian Alps; Sigibert, Gall's former\nfellow-student, went to Dissentis, in Croatia, where they founded\nmonasteries which, after a lapse of more than a thousand years,\nstill exist as firm supports of the Christian religion, learning,\nand civilization. These monasteries must be considered as\ndaughters of the great metropolis which the holy Irish missionary\nbuilt on the side of the lofty Alps. The monastery of Reichenau,\nin Untersee, and that of Braganza, were closely united with St.\nGall's foundation. The former was founded, under Charles Martel,\nby the Irishman Pirminus; the latter, 130 years earlier, by\nColumbanus and Gall, in the beginning of their missionary labors.\nThe countless churches and chapels built even at an early period\nin honor of St. Gall, as well as the numerous acts of donation to\nthe monastery bearing his name, prove the powerful influence of\nthe disciples and successors of the saint in spreading\nChristianity, education, and civilization to the farthest\nregions. The bishoprics in Switzerland, Germany, and in the\nAustrian provinces, in the Tyrol and Bohemia, hold a special\nfestival in honor of St. Gall, and give him a special office,\nhonoring him now as well as formerly as the Apostle of Alemania.\n\"The temporal inheritance which St. Gall left to his people was\nlong enjoyed: the higher inheritance which he has left us with\nthe eternal possessions of Christianity in our Church is still\nwith us; and our constant prayer to God and strenuous effort must\nbe to guard it intact, and render it fruitful in the future.\"\n(_Greith_, p. 401.)\n\n ----------\n\n{347}\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n The Story Of Marcel,\n The Little Mettray Colonist.\n\n\n Chapter VI.\n\n \"Dark the evening shadows rolled\n On the eye that gleamed in death,\n And the evening dews fell cold\n On the lip that gasped for breath.\"\n\n James Montgomery.\n\n\nA year had passed away when one day Pelagie Vautrin went out in\nthe morning, as usual, with her hand-cart, but did not return as\nusual in the evening. Marcel had been on a spree with Polycarpe,\nand was glad, when he crept to bed late at night, all muzzy with\ntippling, to find his dirty home vacant.\n\nBut when, at a late hour the next day, he opened his hot, aching\neyes and looked around him, he was at first astonished and then\nfrightened to see that he was still alone. He started up and ran\ndown-stairs to ask the neighbors if they had seen Madame Vautrin\nthat morning. There was soon a great excitement in the house; for\nno one had seen her, and it was well known that Pelagie never\nstaid out at night; she was generally very regularly drunk in bed\nby ten o'clock.\n\n\"Go to the prefect of police,\" cried one to the anxious boy,\n\"they'll find her for you!\"\n\n\"Go to the Morgue,\" cried another. \"I shouldn't wonder if she had\nfallen into the river.\"\n\n\"Or been run over by an omnibus, the drunken slut!\" cried a\nthird.\n\n\"Ay, go to the Morgue, Marcel,\" said Polycarpe, who had just got\nup, and had hurried down to take part, as usual, in what was\ngoing on. \"Come, I'll go with you.\"\n\nMarcel was by this time as pale as death: the idea of Pelagie\nbeing dead was dreadful to him; for though the poor boy could not\nlove the cruel woman who had worked him so unsparingly for her\nown profit, still she seemed something more to him than the rest\nof the world; she had sheltered him when he had no shelter; she\nhad given him a dry crust when he knew not where to find one; and\nthe child's heart was made of such tender stuff that the\nslightest kindness could kindle in it a flame of never forgetful\ngratitude.\n\nPale and trembling, he now followed Polycarpe to the low, black,\nsinister-looking building then situated close by St. Michael's\nbridge, on the right bank of the Seine. [Footnote 131] Many\npersons were going in and out of the horrible place, some seeking\nmissing friends; others, and the greater number, urged on by a\ndepraved curiosity and love of excitement.\n\n [Footnote 131: It has since been pulled down, and rebuilt\n more handsomely behind the cathedral of Notre Dame.]\n\nThe two boys entered; Polycarpe noisily, and with an air of busy\nimportance that would have been ludicrous under any other\ncircumstances; Marcel sick and faint with anxiety and fear; and\nawful indeed was the interior of that house of death. At one end\nof the stone-floored room in which they found themselves was an\niron grating, behind which, on marble slabs, were laid out the\nperfectly naked forms of the unknown dead, victims of accident or\nof violence.\n{348}\nThe bloated body of a drowned man, whose starting eyes first\ncaught the scared glance of the shuddering child, made him start\nwith horror and surprise. He had often thought, from all he had\nheard, that the sights to be seen in the Morgue must be dreadful,\nbut the reality surpassed all his imaginings. He closed his eyes,\nbut opened them an instant after to take a look at the corpse of\na woman, whose blood-clotted hair and battered features showed\nbut too plainly that the wretched creature had been the victim of\nsome foul crime.\n\n\"'Tis she!\" cried Polycarpe. But Marcel could bear no more; the\nchild's nerves and heart had been tried to the uttermost, and he\nfell insensible on the cold, damp floor. Polycarpe and two or\nthree bystanders dragged him out of the building, and, getting\nsome water from the river, soon brought him to again, but very\nshaky and weak.\n\nPolycarpe Poquet was a regular scamp, an idle beggar, a\nstreet-thief; nevertheless very gently and lovingly did he help\nhis friend on his legs again, and very softly did he speak to him\nas they walked slowly away from that horrible place. \"Come in\nhere, old fellow,\" said he, when they arrived before the door on\nthe second landing. \"Mother wants to see you,\" he added, as he\nperceived that Marcel hesitated.\n\nMadame Poquet and Loulou were both at home; for the charwoman was\njust then at liberty, her last mistress having been mean enough\nto lock up the charcoal and bread and butter, and various other\nuseful items in housekeeping, and as Madame Poquet said to her\nneighbors, \"After that evident want of confidence, she felt\nherself obliged to leave, especially as the wages were so low\nthat without the perquisites the place was worth nothing!\" She\nwas a good-natured woman, notwithstanding her dishonesty, and\nreceived poor Marcel in a kind, motherly manner that contributed\nmuch to soothe and console him. \"Now, you see, Marcel,\" said she,\n\"you need not feel so bad; you shall come and live with us;\nthere's room for four, and so there's room for five. I'm sure I\nalways wanted to have you, for Madame Vautrin was not good to\nyou--you know that she wasn't--everybody knows that she wasn't.\nNow, come, don't cry so; it shows that you've a good heart, but\nit is not reasonable, and I can't bear to hear you. I never could\nbear to hear any one cry. Come, courage, courage!\" And the old\nthieving charwoman kissed the weeping boy tenderly, and then\nwiped her own overflowing eyes. He threw his arms around her neck\nand sobbed aloud, and the motherly old soul sobbed with him.\n\"Come now,\" said she presently, and she placed him as she spoke\non a chair by the table, \"here's some good hot coffee and milk,\nand a piece of nice fresh bread. I got it ready for you half an\nhour ago. There, you and Polycarpe sit down and take your\nbreakfast; that'll do you good, and comfort you.\"\n\nAnd certainly the good meal did much to calm him, though perhaps\nthe sympathy of Madame Poquet and her children did more.\n\nAnd so it was settled; the landlord sold the few miserable sticks\nof furniture belonging to Pelagie Vautrin for the arrears of\nrent, and Marcel became one of the Poquet family.\n\nAs for the battered corpse lying on the marble slab in the\nMorgue, it was never reclaimed, but was hurriedly buried in the\npauper grave that the state provides for the unknown dead. Yet it\nwas a long time before the orphan whom Pelagie Vautrin had so\ncruelly ill-treated ceased to think of her, or shudder as he\nremembered her terrible death.\n{349}\nIt was an end, however, as _we_ know, to be expected for one\ncursed with so wicked a temper and of such dissolute habits.\nDrunkenness, quarrels, blows, and death! It is a natural\nsequence!\n\nPoor Marcel gained by the change; at least, his life was not so\nhard a one as it had been. He was no longer obliged to bring home\na certain quantity of rags and old iron every day; he had no\nregular task set him. But Monsieur and Madame Poquet nevertheless\nfully expected him to pick up his own living and something more,\nin the same way as did their son Polycarpe.\n\nThe two boys after a time adopted, as their principal source of\nincome, the business of gathering cigar-ends and converting them\ninto pipe-tobacco. It was a profession that required early\nrising, quick eyes, and light heels, for there were other lads in\nthe same walk of life, but who could be better fitted for such a\npursuit than Marcel and Polycarpe? At four every morning they\nsallied forth to make their round; hunting for the precious bits\non the sidewalks and in the gutters of the most frequented and\nfashionable streets, the Boulevards, the Champs Elys\u00e9es, and the\npurlieus of the theatres. Sometimes, when they were flush of\nmoney, they bought from the waiters in the coffee-houses the\npermission to pick up the ends that might be under the tables.\n\nThe harvest made, they hastened down to the river's side, and\nthere, seated under or near the dry arches of one of the bridges,\nthey emptied their bags on the ground beside them and commenced\nthe sorting of their merchandise. The prime or first quality\nconsisted of the ends of Havana cigars, regalias, londres, etc.;\nthe second quality, of those of home growth, or bits picked up in\ndirty gutters, and consequently somewhat deteriorated. The\nsorting finished, our young tobacconists commenced their work of\nmetamorphosis. Each one was furnished with a small square of\nsmooth wood, a sharp, thin-bladed knife, and a whetstone, for the\nknife required frequent sharpening during the operation of\ncutting up the ends. This was performed on the square of wood,\nand as fine as possible, so as to resemble _new_ smoking\ntobacco. Paper parcels were then made up of this novel\nmanufacture; the inferior quality selling at one sou the packet;\nthe superior fetching as much as fifty sous the pound.\n\nThe rest of the day was passed in disposing of their morning\nlabors, and this was never difficult; they found plenty of\ncustomers, masons, street-sweepers, and rat-catchers, and often\nmade as much as three francs each in the day. They might have\ngained an honest living by this humble means, had they only\npossessed an honest home. But Monsieur and Madame Poquet were\nthieves, and the more the lads gained the more was exacted from\nthem. And then in the dreadful drinking-dens they frequented to\nsell their merchandise they became each day initiated in some new\nvice. There was indeed nothing to stop them on their downward\ncourse; and soon, alas, the orphan boy, intelligent, and\nnaturally conscientious, became versed in knavery and a common\nstreet-thief! Poor, poor Marcel!\n\n{350}\n\n Chapter VII.\n\n \"Soon, like captives, shall ye learn\n Ways less wild and laws more stern.\"\n Anon.\n\n\nDays and weeks and months had passed away in this kind of life,\nwhen one morning, while Marcel and Polycarpe were still yawning\nand stretching themselves in their dirty bed, Loulou, who had\ngone round the corner to fetch some ready-made hot coffee and\nmilk, for their breakfast, rushed back again with cheeks as white\nas it was possible for her rarely washed face to show.\n\n\"Get up quick and run!\" cried she as she burst into the room,\n\"the police are coming this way; I'm sure they're coming here to\nlook for father, and, if they find you, they'll grab you too.\"\n\nThe two boys needed no further calling; indeed, they were out of\nbed before Loulou had ended her cry of danger. Old Poquet had\nbecome a marked man at the Prefecture of Police, and his\nreputation was very bad among his neighbors. He had been fearing\na visit of this kind during the last eight days, and had taken\nhimself off no one knew whither. So the boys, knowing this, would\nnot have been so much afraid for their own safety, had they not\ndone the preceding day what they called \"good business,\" and had\nin their possession this morning more money and a greater variety\nof purses than they could well have accounted for.\n\nSo they jumped out of bed at the first word of alarm, and huddled\non their clothes in less time than it takes to write the fact;\nand precipitating themselves down the stairs, were out of the\nhouse and out of sight, just as two policemen turned into the\nstreet. It was not until they had threaded many narrow, dirty\nstreets behind the Pantheon, diving into dark passages, and\npassing through houses which were thoroughfares, as there are\nmany in the great city, and at last found themselves near the\nBarri\u00e8re of St. Jacques, that they felt secure enough to walk\nslowly and take time to ask each other where they should go.\n\n\"Parbleu!\" cried Polycarpe, who was the first to break silence,\n\"at any rate our pockets are not empty! Liberty for ever! Hurrah\nfor pleasure and potatoes! Never say die, old fellow!\" And he\nclapped his friend on the back and laughed as if it were the\npleasantest thing in life to be running away from the police.\n\nMarcel was not so gay: the boy's instincts, perverted as they\nwere by the depraved influences that surrounded him, became\nrestive at times; mysterious aspirations, and disgust of he knew\nnot what, agitated strangely the poor child's aching heart, and\ngave him sometimes an appearance of timidity that had acquired\nfor him among his profligate companions the _sobriquet_ of\n\"_la demoiselle_\" the young lady. He was now more moved than\nusual, his cheek was very pale, and his large blue eyes wore a\nmore thoughtful expression than ever before.\n\nMaking a violent effort over himself, he at length replied to his\ncompanion's vivacity by asking what would become of Loulou.\n\n\"Loulou!\" cried Polycarpe, \"why, she's safe enough; she'll get\nout of the scrape, and there's nothing against her and mother.\nYou needn't think of her, but of us, I can tell you. Now, what do\nyou think I'm thinking of, eh?\"\n\n\"I suppose of where we must go to-night.\"\n\n\"Exactly so, mademoiselle, and can you guess? No, that you can't,\nso you needn't try. Well, we must go hide in the quarries at\nIssy; we shall be safe there, and we won't come back to Paris\nbefore two months.\"\n\n\"The quarries!\" cried Marcel, \"How dreadful!\"\n\n\"Not so dreadful as Mazas,\" replied Polycarpe, \"as you'll know\none of these days.\"\n\n{351}\n\n\"I hope not,\" ejaculated Marcel, shuddering.\n\n\"You hope not, you idiot!\" said Polycarpe angrily, \"why, how can\nit be otherwise? One can't be always in luck. Don't you know that\nevery one gets to prison at last? Every one that I know has been\nthere, and why should I escape, I should like to know? Of course\nmy time will come, and your time will come, and what we have to\ndo then is to show game. No cry-baby goings on then, if you\nplease, Master Marcel, or you and I'll part company when we come\nout!\"\n\nMarcel did not answer, and they continued silently their way\nuntil they had passed the fortifications.\n\n\"Now,\" said Polycarpe at last, \"we must try to kill time as\npleasantly as possible until the night, and then we'll go\nstraight to the quarries; we can't go there during the day, for\nthere is always danger from spies.\"\n\n\"I'm very hungry,\" remarked Marcel.\n\n\"And so am I,\" answered his friend, \"my inside has let me know\nfor a long time that it didn't get any coffee this morning.\"\n\nIt was not long before the two boys found a kind of nondescript\n_cabaret_ and restaurant--one of those drinking and eating\nhouses that do most business with Sunday-breakers and\nholiday-makers, if not with worse gentry. They were soon seated\nbefore a smoking omelette, which, with a great loaf of bread and\na bottle of sour claret, they pronounced to be a first-rate\nbreakfast. The meal finished and paid for, they bought a couple\nof bottles of brandy, and then strolled off again to the\nfortifications, where, choosing a sunny spot on the grassy side\nof the deep, dry moat that surrounds the massive walls, they\nsnoozed away the rest of the day.\n\nThe quarries of Issy had long been the rendezvous of all sorts of\nyoung scamps. Idle, vicious boys who had run away from home;\nunfaithful apprentices who had robbed their master's tills;\npickpockets whose successful operations had rendered their\nabsence from the scene of their labors desirable for a period;\nhardened vagabonds waiting an opportunity to rob or murder, as\nthe case might be--all found there a hiding-place and congenial\nsociety. Carefully concealed from any passers-by or workmen, they\nslept the daylight away, but as soon as darkness had rendered the\nplace secure, the wretched youths commenced their orgies. Gorging\non the provisions provided by two or three of their number in\nturn, and bought or stolen in the neighboring villages of Issy,\nClamart, and Meudon; guzzling, singing, and swearing; boasting of\ntheir skill in every cunning and thieving art; teaching and\nlearning all manner of vice--thus passed they their turbulent\nnight, while outside the stifling hole that screened their\nwickedness the starry sky spread cool and calm over the sleeping\nvillage and peaceful fields and woods.\n\nHow the contrast between the within and the without struck Marcel\na few hours after he had entered that ignoble hiding-place! He\nand Polycarpe had quitted the moat at nightfall and had found\nthemselves about ten o'clock at the rendezvous. The place was\nwell-known to the cobbler's son; many and many a time had he come\nhither to see some friend in hiding, and he now advanced without\nhesitation. At a certain distance from the entrance, he put his\nfingers to his lips and uttered a shrill, peculiar cry, then\nseizing his companion's arm hurried in. They were met by Guguste,\nand received an enthusiastic welcome, not only from that young\nrascal, but also from the rest of the band, which contained a\ngreat many at that moment, and consisted almost entirely of old\nacquaintances. The two bottles of brandy were hailed with\nacclamations, and the donors invited to take part in the eating\nand drinking that was about to commence.\n\n{352}\n\nUsed as our young hero was to all kinds of wickedness, he at\nfirst listened with fear to what he heard around him now; but the\nbrandy and the example of his companions soon acted on his\nimpressionable nature, the revolting instincts were stifled as\nusual, and Marcel quickly became one of the noisiest and most\ncynical of those wretched children.\n\nOne half of the company was already nearly drunk, and the other\nhalf at the height of its revelry, when a sound of many feet\nmarching in step and close at hand silenced each and all in an\ninstant. The lights were suddenly extinguished, pistols\ncocked--for most of the young miscreants were armed; then came a\nrush from the outside, a struggle, several shots, smothered\ngroans, oaths, and all was over. Law had conquered, and the whole\nband was in the power of a _posse_ of gendarmes under the\ncommand of an officer.\n\nTo handcuff the young ruffians and lead them one by one out of\ntheir den was soon accomplished; and it was then that Marcel,\nemerging into the tranquil night, was struck by the contrast.\nWithin, drunkenness and crime, false, feverish merriment ending\nin bloody strife; without, the cool, fresh air of early morn, the\nfirst streak of breaking day in the far east, the market-carts\nwending their plodding way to the great metropolis--all telling\nof peace, all so quiet! Beautiful nature and humble toil!\n\nPoor Marcel! he could not understand his feelings, for his\nintelligence was warped and dwarfed with his conscience; but his\nyoung heart ached with vague aspirations and regrets, and he wept\nbitterly.\n\n\n Chapter VIII.\n\n \"We travel through a desert, and our feet\n Have measured a fair space, have left behind\n A thousand dangers and a thousand snares.\n ...\n ... The past temptations\n No more shall vex us.\"\n Watts.\n\n \"'Tis beauty all, and grateful song around,\n Joined to the low of kine, and numerous bleat\n Of flocks thick-nibbling through the clovered vale.\"\n Thomson.\n\nA few weeks after this catastrophe, the whole band was tried and\ncondemned to various degrees of punishment and correction.\nNothing had been proven against Marcel and Polycarpe further than\nthat they had been found among recognized thieves, and were by\nthat fact alone suspicious characters in the eyes of the law. The\nanswers elicited from Marcel on his examination had excited the\ncompassion of the tribunal, and the president declared his\nintention of giving him the opportunity of redeeming the past and\nof becoming an honest man. Polycarpe Poquet, also, had been\njudged leniently; his frank, generous nature had been discovered\namidst all the vice that overshadowed it.\n\nVery beautiful and touching were the words in which the worthy\npresident announced to the two boys that he acquitted them\nbecause he believed that they had acted without discernment, but\nthat, fearing for their future, he should send them to a house of\ncorrection where they would be detained until they had each\nreached the age of twenty-one. He reminded them that at least six\nyears lay before them to reform and elevate themselves.\n{353}\nHe promised them that every means should be given to them to\nimprove, and that they should be taught a trade or profession,\nand thus enabled by their own labor to gain their living and\nbecome respectable citizens. Obedience and industry would be\nexpected from them, he said; and he entreated them to have pity\non themselves, and to aid by their own exertions the efforts of\nthose who sincerely desired their welfare, both temporal and\neternal.\n\nMarcel's tears flowed plentifully while the good magistrate thus\naddressed them; he had never before heard such things, and he\nwept as much from gratitude as from fear.\n\nImprisonment for six years seemed terrible; but if those six\nyears were to give him the very thing for which he yearned--a\ndifferent life from that he had hitherto led, in which all was\nfear and pain!\n\nAs for Polycarpe, he was more silent than usual, but he seemed\nneither afraid nor sorry. He felt the influence of virtue and\ntruth, however, and the president's discourse made more\nimpression on him than he cared to confess even to Marcel; for in\nminds rendered obtuse by vicious habits a good feeling or impulse\nis generally considered as a weakness, and resisted or concealed.\n\nThe boys were conducted back to the depot of the prefecture as\nsoon as the president had finished speaking to them, there to\nawait their removal to the House of Correction that should be\nappointed by the authorities.\n\nIn 1839, a few noble-hearted, philanthropic men conceived the\nidea of founding at Mettray, near the beautiful town of Tours, in\nalmost the heart of France, a colony of young convicts, to whom\nshould be given a moral and religious training, and the blessings\nof a home. These benevolent men had studied with profound\nattention the admirable penitentiary system of the United States\nof America; compared with it, the system of correction as\npractised in the state prisons of France had struck them as\nsingularly ineffective and quite inadequate to attain the end and\naim of all punishment, the eradication of vice, and the awakening\nof a desire to practise industry and honesty. The published\nreports of these prisons had even proved that, far from the\nmorality of the unfortunate children detained there being\nimproved, these unhappy victims did actually become more\nconfirmed in their perversity by their sojourn in the house of\ncorrection. Though restrained by the prison discipline, they were\nnot actually taught; for it is not intimidation that can teach a\nfallen nature how to rise, nor inculcate the love of honor and\nvirtue. The helter-skelter way of these houses was fatal to their\nutility. Young offenders, guilty of comparatively slight\noffences, were associated with scoundrels versed in every mystery\nof crime. The burglar and the highway robber, the coiner and the\nassassin, became the companions of the child so apt to learn, so\nready to receive any impression whether of good or evil. Want of\nspace was pleaded in extenuation of this great, this fundamental\nerror in the work of reformation; and thus justice and social\ngood were sacrificed to considerations of economy!\n\nThe system of detention, too, as applied to children, did not\nrender it obligatory on the administration of the prison to\ncontinue its care of the child after he had quitted the walls\nwhere he had passed the last five or six years of his young life.\nOn the day of his liberation, the rule was to give him a few\nclothes and a part of the products of his labor during his\ndetention, and then all was ended between him and those who were\nsupposed to have been his teachers and protectors.\n{354}\nThus thrown all at once into a world from which he had been\nsequestered for years, without any family traditions of industry\nand probity to guide and uphold him, the unhappy youth found it\nimpossible to gain a footing among the honest and respectable,\nand was soon irretrievably lost.\n\nAll the errors, all the consequences of this system, were then to\nbe avoided in the new colony of Mettray; and guided by sound\nsense and a deep love of their kind, the founders of this\nadmirable establishment undertook the task of endowing the erring\nchildren confided to them by the state with family affections and\nhabits, with the love of order, and with health. Their minds and\nhearts were to be cultivated, and they were to be given the\ndesire and the means of gaining their living by honest labor. It\nwas to the agricultural colony of Mettray that Marcel and\nPolycarpe were sent, a few days after their examination before\nthe tribunal; and they made the journey thither in the company of\nthirty or forty other unfortunate boys of their own age. What\nlanguage can express the delight that filled the bosom of the\npoor orphan when his eyes first rested on the home that a\nmerciful Providence had at last given him! Most lovely was the\nwide landscape that spread before him; for fertile Touraine is\nindeed the garden of beautiful France. The bright waters of the\nmagnificent river Loire were there to be seen winding amidst\ngreen fields, its shores bordered by strange habitations hollowed\nin the rocks, or fringed with waving trees. There were the houses\nof the Mettray colonists on the side of a rising ground, the\ntapering steeple of their chapel showing itself from the middle\nof the group like a giant finger pointing the way to heaven. On\nthe bank of the little stream that passed close to the settlement\non its way to the great river stood a windmill, turning its sails\nright merrily. Plantations of mulberry-trees, beautifully kept\ngardens and orchards, and wheat-fields nearly ripe for the\nharvest, surrounded the colony; oxen grazing or pulling\nheavily-laden carts, sheep browsing with tinking bells, young\ncolonists smiling, bright-eyed, rosy-cheeked, directing, helping,\nworking in every way and with a will; all the sights and sounds\nof husbandry, and among the leaves a whispering breeze, and the\nwarm air perfumed with the scent of newly-mown hay, and over all\nthe bright blue, sunny sky. Such was the landscape that met the\neyes of the pale-faced, sin-degraded children of Paris. Such was\nthe home that a few true men with loving hearts and living\nsympathies had provided for the victims of poverty and crime!\nHere were they to learn, by the all-powerful lessons of religion\nand healthful labor, how to become honest, useful citizens; here\nwere they to acquire self-respect, love of country and of their\nfellow-men.\n\nOh! blessings on the Christian men who founded the colony of\nMettray! Their names are inscribed on the walls of the chapel;\nbut those walls will crumble away in time, their names will be\nforgotten, but the good they have done will never decay or pass\naway, and \"_Verily they shall have their reward!_\"\n\n{355}\n\n Chapter IX.\n\n Law, conscience, honor, all obeyed, all give\n The approving voice, and make it bliss to live;\n While faith, when life can nothing more supply,\n Shall strengthen hope and make it bliss to die.\n\nThe boys at Mettray are divided into families, each inhabiting a\nseparate house inscribed with the name of certain towns, or of\nthe generous giver. There is the \"House of Paris,\" the \"House of\nLimoges,\" the \"House of the widow H\u00e9bert,\" and one is called the\n\"House of Mary,\" in which the youngest children are placed. There\nwere more than a dozen of these dwellings when our two culprits\nentered the colony, each directed by a Father and an Elder\nBrother, the inmates of each one emulating the inmates of the\nothers in their progress to reformation, and every family\nconsidering itself a distinct brotherhood.\n\nIt was to the \"House of Paris,\" that Marcel and Polycarpe were\nconsigned; and what a new life began for these poor children\nwhen, after a short sequestration, so that at least the first\nelements of religion, order, and honesty might be instilled into\ntheir minds, they were permitted to associate with the older\ncolonists, and take full part in their lessons and labors.\nStrange but sweet did it seem to Marcel when he first felt\nhimself a member of a family, one among many brothers, where he\nwas to find those ties and that affection refused to him\nhitherto. How soon he came to love his superiors, the Father and\nthe Elder Brother, and how easy obedience was to him, can be\nreadily imagined by those who have followed his fortunes so far.\nHow fond and proud he grew after a while of his home--his saving\nark--can only be conceived by those who have visited Mettray, and\nwho have seen and heard with their own eyes and ears that every\nchild there considers himself honored by the title of colonist,\nand bound in his own person to prove the worthiness of the\ncommunity.\n\nOne of the first tasks of the newcomers was to learn the duties\nand discipline of the house.\n\n\"The colonists' duties are honorable,\" said the Father of the\nfamily to them the day after their arrival; \"they resemble the\nsoldiers; obedience to superiors and submission to discipline.\nWithout discipline no association of men is possible. With it a\nnation may become invincible!\"\n\nTo Marcel the discipline of Mettray was not only easy but even\nagreeable, and none could be more scrupulously observant of the\nregulations than he. At the first sound of the clarion which\nawoke the family each morning, he was out of his hammock and\ndressing himself with silent haste. Then, folding his bed and\nputting it away, he was ready to march with his companions to the\nwash-house. Here the ablutions were plentiful and thorough; for\nthe boys at Mettray are taught that not only is cleanliness\nabsolutely necessary to health, but that we are also more worthy\nto come in prayer before our Maker when purified and refreshed by\nhis blessed gift of water.\n\nThe washing and combing finished, he returned with his brothers\nto the dormitory, to render thanks for the peaceful rest of the\npast night and to beg God's blessing on the labors of to-day.\nThen the clarion sounded again, and each ran to take his place in\nthe ranks of workers about to march to their daily labors out of\ndoors. Scarcely would they have been recognized by those they had\nleft behind them in their old Paris haunts, as, clothed in their\ndark-blue blouses, their feet warm and dry in good sabots, their\ncheeks glowing with cleanliness and health, they marched in step,\nlight and brisk, to their respective tasks. Some proceeded to the\nfields, where, superintended by an intelligent superior, they\nworked with a willing spirit, encouraged and strengthened by the\nsight of their teacher laboring with them. Some entered the\nout-houses fitted up as work-shops, where, while one learned\ntailoring on his brethren's clothes, another worked at his\nfamily's shoes.\n{356}\nA little farther on, and the young colonists reached the\nblacksmith's shop, where they hammered away manfully at the\nchains and rails, the gear of the carts, the locks and hinges,\nand all the other iron necessities of the place. And near by\nstood the carpenter's shop, where another band prepared all the\nwood-work of the colony, even to the doors and windows of the new\nhouses to be built to receive other poor castaways.\n\nSome again, whose turn it was to attend to the farm-yard, went on\nto the cow-house, where the cows lowed with content as they\nentered. And then began such a currying and cleansing that it\nwould be difficult to say which enjoyed it the most, the boys or\nthe cows. Cows are not accustomed to have so much attention\nbestowed on them; but the lads took pleasure in it, and each\nhouse had the privilege of participating in rotation, and the\nkine profited wonderfully. After the cows came the turn of the\npigs, the horses, and the donkeys, the latter great favorites\ngenerally. And then the dairy with its pans of yesterday's milk\nthick with cream, to be skimmed, and then butter-making and\ncheese-making.\n\nAnd thus worked the once idle, quarrelsome boys until the welcome\nhour of breakfast summoned them within. The simple but wholesome\nmeal finished, after a short pause the thanksgiving was said, and\na quarter of an hour's recreation permitted, and then at the\nfirst blast of the clarion they left their play, formed their\nranks, and gayly marched off to labor again. As they passed the\nDirector on their way out, they greeted him respectfully and\naffectionately, their bright and _now honest_ eyes becoming\nstill brighter as he returned their salutation with a kind word\nand fatherly smile.\n\nMarvellous change, operated by the force of enlightened charity\nalone, by a few devoted men and women! For there were at Mettray\nno manacles nor blows for the refractory; no prison-walls to keep\nin the discontented, lazy, thief, or beggar; only labor and\nreligious influence, justice and love, ever working together to\nrepair the ravages that sin and ignorance had wrought in the\nconsciences of these forlorn ones, and endeavoring to extirpate\neven the very germ of evil in their souls.\n\nThe day of healthful toil in the woods, fields, and workshops\nended at six o'clock, when the clarion's clear voice again\nsummoned the young laborers, this time to school, whither they\nmarched in regimental order preceded by a band of military music.\n\nThe school-rooms were large, well-ventilated chambers, their\nwhite walls bearing the inscription, \"Dieu vous voit,\" God sees\nyou, oft-repeated, and decorated with lists, \"tablets of honor,\"\ncontaining the names of those boys who had for three months\ngained an immunity from all punishment. Many of these names had\nbecome \"fixtures,\" they had been there so long; for the erasure\nof a name is considered by the colonists as a great disgrace,\nwhile its continuance on the tablet is an honor.\n\nHere during two hours, aided by kind, intelligent teachers, the\nboys learned reading, writing, arithmetic, singing, and linear\ndrawing. The more advanced helped to teach the beginners, and\nwith few exceptions proved themselves patient, painstaking\ntutors.\n\nTo Marcel these hours of instruction were the best and sweetest\nrecreation. The boy seemed to yearn after knowledge, and the\nprogress he made was really surprising. He was even after a while\nable to undertake to teach a class of new-comers to read, and\nproud and happy was he the day this honorable task was assigned\nto him!\n\n{357}\n\nBut music especially soon became his greatest source of pleasure.\nIt soothed, cheered, and elevated him; it awakened in him the\ntenderest and highest sentiments. It saddened him, too,\nsometimes, but that was a solemn sadness that refined rather than\ndepressed the boy's sensitive nature. The patriotic songs taught\nin the school roused his enthusiasm and inspired him with the\nmost ardent love of his country. The soft strains of the simple\ncatechism-hymns he and his brothers sang when the good chaplain\nprepared them for their first communion entered into his inmost\nheart, bringing peace and hope. But deep, very deep was his\nemotion when they sang some of those pieces composed expressly\nfor them, and bearing reference to their past or present state.\nHow his heart swelled when he joined his voice, high and sweet,\nto his fellow castaways, as they chaunted--\n\n \"Droop not, though _shame, sin_, and _anguish_ are round thee;\n Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee;\n Look at yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee;\n Rest not content in thy darkness a clod.\n _Work_ for some good--be it ever so slowly,\n Cherish some flower--be it ever so lowly.\n Let thy good deeds be a prayer to thy God.\"\n\nHow every stirring line re-echoed in his inmost soul, awakening\nthere gratitude so deep and full to all those who had rescued him\nfrom sin that no language could have expressed it. We are told\nthat there is \"joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth;\" how\nmany blessings, then, must rest on the heads of those who have\nconducted sinning _children_ to repentance--children whom\nhe loves and wishes to be brought to him.\n\nTwo hours of school and the clarion sounded for supper. The\nrepast over, after five minutes' play the refectory was converted\ninto a dormitory by suspending the hammocks, and then came the\nevening prayer and hymn. The day was ended, and our orphan and\nhis companions climbed into their clean beds, to sleep peacefully\nunder the protection of that Heavenly Father who had permitted\nthem in his inscrutable wisdom to bear the brunt of the battle\nwhile unprepared, but had saved them, scotched and bleeding, it\nis true, yet still with vitality enough to recover from their\nwounds, and fight again, and win at last--if they would!\n\n\n Chapter X.\n\n \"I held it truth, with him who sings\n To one clear harp in divers tones,\n That men may rise on stepping-stones\n Of their dead selves to higher things.\"\n\n Tennyson.\n\n\nPolycarpe Poquet found it more difficult to conform himself to\nthe rules of the establishment, and the law of obedience to the\nElder Brother especially was peculiarly galling to him. The\nFather of the Family he could submit to; but this superior, the\nElder Brother, elected every month by themselves from among\nthemselves, was regarded by him as a kind of hypocritical\nupstart, whom he took every opportunity to annoy. Many were the\ninsulting words he addressed to the poor boys who received this\nmark of their companions' esteem, but who by their very position\nwere forced to report every fault committed by those same\ncompanions, and many a weary hour did he pass in solitary\nconfinement, making nails, before he had learned that first duty\nof a good citizen, obedience to constituted authorities.\n\n{358}\n\nPerhaps the visit of a venerable ecclesiastic who had come to\nexamine the working-system of the colony might be taken as the\nturning-point in Polycarpe's conduct, though not the real date of\nhis improvement, as we shall see hereafter. The good Abb\u00e9 had\nbeen questioning the boys of Marcel and Polycarpe's family, when\nhe suddenly requested them to tell him which were the three best\nlads among them. Need we say that our poor orphan was one of\nthose who were instantly, and without hesitation, pointed out by\ntheir comrades?\n\n\"And the worst?\" asked the abb\u00e9 again.\n\nEvery eye remained fixed, immovable; every tongue silent. All at\nonce Polycarpe stepped forward and said in a low but clear voice,\n\n\"'Tis I!\"\n\n\"My boy!\" exclaimed the worthy priest, as he clasped the young\nconvict's hand in both of his, \"I cannot believe it! I will not\ntake even your word for it! This very acknowledgment proves that\nyou are mistaken.\"\n\nPolycarpe never from that day forth wore the ignominious mark of\npunishment, the ugly black gaiter on the left leg.\n\nHis progress in learning was slow, compared with that of Marcel;\nbut he was an adept in the house-duties, which were performed by\neach family of boys in turns of a week at a time. He was skilled\nin sweeping and dusting, washing dishes and cleaning knives. He\nwas the aptest pupil, too, that ever studied the culinary art,\nand, after a time, was wont to boast that he could dish up a\nsavory dinner there where a less gifted individual could find\nnothing to eat. Not that Mettray could be considered as one of\nthe best schools for learners, nor its wholesome dinners as\nspecimens of the world-famed French cookery; for they consisted\nof vegetables entirely, with the exception of twice in the week,\nwhen bacon and beef figured on the tables; but Polycarpe felt\nthat he had natural abilities, and could do more than was\nrequired of him in the simple kitchen where he practised. He was\nquite a favorite with the good Sisters who presided there; they\nwere always glad when it was his week to assist them, and praised\nhim constantly for his activity, good temper, and disposition to\noblige.\n\nBut if Polycarpe was useful in the kitchen, he was invaluable in\nthe infirmary. A handier fellow for helping the suffering never\nentered a sick-room. He was quick-eyed and _light-fingered_,\n(in the good sense of the word;) he saw in a moment how best to\narrange the pillows for the weary, feverish head; he could dress\na blister without drawing a single exclamation from the patient;\nhe could make palatable gruel and ptisan; he was punctual in\nadministering the potions, and, though last not least of his good\nqualities, he was wakeful and, at the same time, good-tempered\nand cheerful. The kind Hospital Sisters, who had charge of the\ninfirmary, pronounced him the best of nurses, and would have\nrejoiced could they always have had him with them.\n\nThe very first week that he was on duty there, a poor boy, who\nhad only been a month in the establishment, died of the disease\nwhose germs he had brought with him. Polycarpe watched over him\nwith the tenderest care, and the child became gratefully attached\nto him, and talked much to him of his past life--a short but sad\none. His father, he said, was in the galleys for life; his mother\nin the hospital at Tours; his two elder sisters in prison for\ntheft; his young brother, a miserable deformed child, was a\nstreet-beggar; and he knew not what had become of his little\nsister of six years old! The poor fellow loved this little sister\nwith all the concentrated strength of a heart that had had but\nfew objects to love, and he cried as he spoke of her.\n\n{359}\n\nWhen the chaplain came to see him, the last evening of his short\nlife, Polycarpe related the sad story to the good priest.\n\n\"Victor Bourdon,\" said the abb\u00e9 gently, as he still knelt by the\nside of the bed, after having prayed with the dying boy, \"Victor\nBourdon, I will go to Tours, and find your little sister, and I\nwill place her where she will learn to be a good and industrious\ngirl. I promise you this, my child.\"\n\nVictor turned his dim eyes toward his consoler, a smile of\nineffable content played over his pain-drawn features; then,\nsighing rather than speaking these last words, \"Oh! what a pity\nto leave the colony so soon!\" the young earth-tried spirit passed\naway.\n\nThis death made a lasting impression on Polycarpe. The\nexclamation, \"Oh! what a pity to leave the colony so soon!\" was\nlike a revelation to him; all at once he understood all that he\nhad escaped--all the privileges he now enjoyed.\n\nThe Father of the family found the poor fellow in tears one day,\nand, after a few sympathizing questions, drew from him a touching\nconfession of his repentance. He freely acknowledged that his\ngood conduct had hitherto been prompted by pride only; \"and if,\"\nadded he, \"I have not run away, \"_it is only because there are\nno walls at Mettray_.\"\n\nSingular proof of the innate sentiment of honor that exists in\nFrance! Even this ignorant boy felt it to be an unworthy,\ncowardly act to betray the confidence reposed in him; he\nconsidered himself a prisoner on parole, and scorned to take\nadvantage of the liberty granted him.\n\nAll his in-door talents did not, however, prevent his working\nwell at the harder labors out of doors. He was great at the\nplough, and no one groomed a horse better than he. His\nstrongly-built frame, too, became admirably developed by the\nfarm-work and the gymnastic exercises in which all took a part,\nbut in which none excelled as he did. His stout, muscular form,\nthe splendid glow of his cheeks, and perfectly healthful\nappearance, would have made him remarked anywhere.\n\nHe had at first chosen to learn the trade of a baker, as his\nfuture means of gaining a living; but his strong physical nature\nand necessity of movement soon inspired him with, a decided\ninclination for a military life, and the administration permitted\nhim to revoke his first choice. Marcel had wished to be a\ngardener; he loved nature, and was passionately fond of flowers,\nand his desire had been granted.\n\nSo the two boys worked hopefully and cheerfully on; one day was a\nrepetition of the other, until Marcel fully understood that\nhigher life which brings its own recompense, and Polycarpe\nacquired the love of truth and of honest labor.\n\nA year after his admittance into the colony, Polycarpe's name was\ninscribed on the tablet of honor by the side of Marcel's, which\nhad already long gained its place there. A few months later, he\nsucceeded to his friend as Elder Brother, and, after another\ninterval of exemplary conduct, both lads received as a recompense\na sum of money which was placed in the savings bank of the\nestablishment for their future use, and were entitled to wear a\ncorporal's stripe on their sleeve--a high and envied distinction.\n\n\"For the good workers there is a future!\" is the hopeful\nsalutation inscribed over the gate at Mettray.\n\n{360}\n\nYes! there is a future for all true workers! Labor, then,\nsteadfastly; labor trustfully, poor children of earth; the good\ntime cometh--the reward is sure!\n\n\n To Be Continued.\n\n ----------\n\n Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n Number Two.\n\n Pantheism Examined From The Ontological Point Of View--\n The Infinite--\n Idea Of The Infinite According To The Pantheist.\n\n\nThe infinite of the pantheist is _something_ stripped of\nsubsistence, limits, determinations, definiteness, qualities, or\nquantity; it is devoid of all consciousness, intelligence, will,\nindividuality; it is something hanging between reality and\nunreality, bordering on possibility and existence; it is not\naltogether actual, nor entirely possible, but that which is _in\nfieri_, or becoming; in a word, that which is both being and\nnothing. It is pure, unalloyed abstraction, without a mind which\nmakes the abstraction.\n\nWe acknowledge that pantheists do not all express themselves in\nthe above manner with regard to the infinite; but, if we strip\ntheir systems of their various forms, all agree in presenting the\nsame idea.\n\nWhether, with the materialistic pantheists of old, we call the\ninfinite a common principle or seed of liquid nature, from which\neverything sprang up, and which is the substratum of everything;\nor whether we call it the _primitive number_, with the\nPythagoreans; or we like to exhibit it as the first _unity_\nor _monas_, with Plotinus and the Neoplatonists; or we look\nupon it as the _infinite substance_ of Spinoza; or finally,\nwith the Germans, we prefer to call it the _ego_ or the\n_absolute identity_, or the _ideal-being_; or the\n_impersonal reason_, with Cousin--all converge into this\nidea, that the infinite is something indeterminate, unconscious,\nimpersonal; which, by an interior necessity, is impelled to\nunfold and develop itself, assuming all kinds of limitations and\nforms; and thus, from being undefined, indeterminate, abstract,\nit becomes real, defined, determinate, concrete; from being one,\nit becomes multiple. The genesis of creation in all its\ncomponents, and the history of mankind, are the successive\nunfolding and realization of the infinite in a progressive scale.\nFor, in its necessary development, it becomes matter, organism,\nsense; and in man it acquires intellect with the consciousness of\nitself. Here commence all the phases of the development of man\nrecorded in history: phases of a progressive civilization, which\nare but necessary unfoldings and modifications of the infinite;\nand which will go on progressing perpetually, to what end, or for\nhow long, pantheists and progressists are unable to determine.\n\n{361}\n\nBy means of this theory of the infinite, they endeavor to\nreconcile reality with the ontological ideas of being, the\ninfinite, substance, and the absolute. For they reason thus: The\nidea of being is essentially universal, and as such it must\nembrace all reality, and therefore it can be but one. The same\nmust be said of the idea of the infinite. This comprehends\neverything, and therefore absorbs everything.\n\nThe reader can easily see, from what we have thus far said, that\nthe first problem which pantheism raises and which is to be\nsolved, is the following: What is the nature of the infinite? We\naccept the problem, and shall discuss it by making the following\ninquiries.\n\n1. Does the idea which pantheism gives of the infinite really\nresolve the problem?\n\n2. What is the true solution of the problem?\n\nWith regard to the first inquiry we answer that the idea of the\ninfinite, as given by the pantheists, when well examined, leads\nto one of two different conclusions:\n\n1. Either it is the idea of finite being, and consequently\nrequiring the existence of an infinite being as its origin.\n\n2. Or, it is the idea of a mere abstraction, an absolute\nnonentity, and hence leading to absolute nihilism. In both cases\npantheism, instead of resolving the problem, destroys it. We\nshall endeavor to prove both these propositions, assuming as\ngranted that the principles of pantheism are these two:\n\n1. The infinite is that the essence of which lies in becoming.\n\n2. It becomes multiplicity, that is matter, organism, animality,\netc., by a necessary interior movement.\n\nThe pantheistic idea of the infinite leads either to the idea of\nGod given by the Catholic Church, or to absolute nihilism. Proven\nby the first principle of the pantheists.\n\nBefore entering upon the proof, we must lay down a few truths of\nontology which are metaphysically certain.\n\nFirst Principle. Being and actuality are one and the same thing.\n\nThe proof of this principle lies in the explanation of what\nactuality really means. Now, actuality is one of those ideas,\ncalled by logicians simple ideas, and which cannot be defined. We\nshall endeavor to explain it as follows.\n\nActuality is but a relation of our mind. When we think of a\nbeing, not as yet existing, but against the existence of which we\nsee neither an interior nor an exterior reason, we call it\npossible being; and the perception of all this, in our mind, we\ncall the perception of the _possibility_ of a being.\n\nBut when we think of the being, not as possible, but as having,\nso to speak, travelled from possibility to real existence, we\ncall that being _actual_; and the perception of the mind,\nthe perception of the actuality of a being.\n\nIt is evident that actuality adds nothing to being, beyond a mere\nrelation of our mind, which, comparing the being, as really\nexisting, with its possibility, calls it _actual_; because\nit is existence in act, in contradistinction to possibility,\nwhich is power or potentiality.\n\nActuality, then, and being or reality are one and the same thing.\n\nSecond Principle. Actuality and duration are one and the same\nthing.\n\nAn act or being which does not last, not even one instant, is\nnothing; because our mind cannot conceive a being to exist, and\nhave no duration whatever. Therefore an act or being necessarily\nimplies duration, and they are therefore one and the same thing.\n\n{362}\n\nBut it will be remarked: Are there no transitory acts? Do not all\nphilosophers admit the existence of acts which are continually\nchanging?\n\nWe answer, What is meant by a transitory act? Does it mean\nsomething which is continually changing, so much so that none of\nits elements has any duration whatever, not even for an instant;\nor does it mean that the parts or moments, if we may call them\nso, are in a state of continual transition? In both cases such\nacts do not and cannot exist.\n\nBefore demonstrating this, we observe that it was the ancient\nItalian school of Elea which, before every other school, raised\nthe problem of transient acts, pointed out the great difficulty\nwhich existed in explaining their nature, and demonstrated the\nimpossibility of their existence. To render the demonstration\nclear, we remark that a transient act may mean either one of two\nthings: an act which is composed of different parts, each in\ncontinual transition; or an act which has a beginning, and, after\na certain duration, also an end. We admit the existence of such\nacts in the second sense and not in the first. For if an act\ncontinually changes, none of the states which it successively\nassumes have any duration whatever. Otherwise it would no longer\nbe a transient act in the first sense. But that which has no\nduration at all cannot be considered to exist. Therefore an act\nreally transient cannot exist. What then is a transient act? We\nhave seen that it supposes something standing or lasting. But\nwhat lasts is immanent, that is, has duration. Therefore a\ntransient act can only be the beginning or end of an immanent\nact, or, in other words, the beginning or end of duration. To\nillustrate this doctrine by an example: suppose I wish to draw a\nline on this paper. If all the points, of which the line is to be\ncomposed, were to disappear the very instant I am drawing them,\nit is evident I should never have a line. Likewise, if all the\nstates, which a transient act assumes, are supposed to have no\nduration whatever, the act also can have no duration, and hence\nno existence. A transient act, then, is the beginning or end of\nan immanent act.\n\nHaving laid down the foregoing propositions, we come to the\ndiscussion of the pantheistic idea of the infinite.\n\nWhat, according to pantheism, is the idea of the infinite?\nSomething the essence of which consists in becoming, in being\nmade, in _fieri_. Now, we reason thus: a being the essence\nof which lies in becoming means either an act permanent and\nlasting, capable of changes, or it means something the essential\nelements of which are continually changing, and have, therefore,\nno duration whatever. If the last supposition be accepted as\ndescribing the pantheistic idea of the infinite, then the\ninfinite is a sheer absurdity, an absolute nonentity. For, in\nthis case, the infinite would be a transient act, in the sense\nthat its essential elements are continually changing, and have no\nduration whatever. Now such acts are absolutely inconceivable.\nThe mind may put forth its utmost efforts to form an idea of\nthem, yet it will ever be utterly at a loss to conceive anything\nabout them.\n\n{363}\n\nPantheism, on this supposition, would start from absolute\nnihilism, to build up the existence of everything. On the other\nhand, if the second supposition be admitted, that the infinite is\na permanent being, capable of changes and developments, then it\nis a transient act in the second sense, that is, the beginning or\nend of an immanent act; in which case we object to its being\nself-existing, and insist that it leads to the admission of the\nidea of the infinite as given by the Catholic Church. We\ndemonstrate this from the ontological idea of immanent and\ntransient acts.\n\nIf there be transient acts, there must also be immanent acts,\nbecause transient acts are the beginning or end of immanent acts.\nBut no immanent act can be the cause of its end, because no act\ncould be the cause of its cessation; nor can an immanent act be\nthe cause of its own beginning, since in that case it would act\nbefore it existed.\n\nIt follows, then, that an immanent act cannot be the cause either\nof its beginning or of its end. But a transient act, that is, the\nbeginning or end of an immanent act, must have a cause, by the\nprinciple of causality. If, then, the transient act is not caused\nby the immanent act, of which it is either the beginning or the\nend, it must be caused by another immanent act.\n\nNow this immanent act, which causes the transient act, has either\nitself a beginning, in which case it would be preceded by a\ntransient act, or it has no beginning at all, and consequently\ncan have no end.\n\nIf it be caused by a transient act, we should be obliged to admit\nanother immanent act; and, if we do not wish to admit an infinite\nseries of causes, (which would by no means resolve the\ndifficulty, but only increase it,) we must finally stop at an\nimmanent act which has neither beginning nor end.\n\nIf it be not caused by a transient act, then we have already what\nwe seek for; an act without beginning or end.\n\nBut, the infinite of the pantheists, if it be not a mere\nabstraction, an absolute nonentity, is a transient act.\n\nTherefore, it leads to the admission of a purely immanent act. We\npresent the same demonstration in another form, to make it more\nintelligible.\n\nA transient act is the beginning or cessation of an immmanent\nact.\n\nNow, this beginning or cessation must have a cause, by the\nprinciple of causality. What can the cause be? It cannot be the\nsame immanent act, of which the transient act is either the\nbeginning or the end. Because, if the immanent act were the cause\nof its beginning, it would act before its existence; and if it\nwere the cause of its end, its action would be simultaneous with\nits destruction or extinction, which is a contradiction in terms.\nOn the other hand, it cannot be a transient act, because this\n_itself_ must have a cause. Nor can it be another immanent\nact, which has a beginning or end; for in that case it would be a\ntransient act. Therefore, it must be a purely immanent act,\nwithout beginning or end. In short, a self-existing transient\nact, such as the infinite of the pantheists, is an absurdity,\nbecause this denotes an act which gives itself a beginning, or\nwhich gives itself an end. This beginning or end must be given it\nby another. Now, this second is either a purely immanent act,\nwithout beginning or end, or it has had a beginning, and may have\nan end. In the first supposition we have the Catholic idea of\nGod. In the second we may multiply these causes _ad\ninfinitum_, and thus increase _ad infinitum_ the\nnecessity of the existence of God to explain those existences.\n\n{364}\n\nWe pass to the examination of the second leading principle of\npantheism, which is thus expressed. The infinite, by a necessary\ninterior movement, becomes multiple.\n\nHow is this to be understood? If the infinite of the pantheists,\nby a necessary interior movement, unfolds itself, and becomes\nmultiple, it follows that it is the cause of transient acts. Our\nmind can attach no other signification to that principle, beyond\nthat of an immanent act, producing transient acts. Now the\nquestion arises, Is this ontologically possible? We insist that\nit is not, and lay down the following proposition: No being,\nwhich moves or unfolds itself, that is, which performs transient\nacts, can do so by its own unaided energy; but requires the aid\nof another being, different from itself.\n\nAn immanent act which produces a transient one does so either by\nan eternal act, also immanent, and in that case it cannot be the\nsubject of the transient act produced; or it produces a transient\nact of which it is the subject--so much so that the transient act\nis its own act, as, for instance, the act by which a sensitive\nbeing feels a new sensation, or the act by which an intelligent\nbeing begets a thought, are transient acts, the one of the\nsensitive principle, the other of the rational being. These\ntransient acts modify the subject which produces them, and effect\na change in it.\n\nNow, in the first case, if an immanent act which produces\ntransient acts is eternal in duration, these cannot terminate in\nthe subject, by the supposition. For, if the transient act were\nlaid inside the permanent act, it would be its cessation, and in\nthat case the act would no longer be eternal according to the\nsupposition.\n\nIn the second place, if an immanent act becomes the subject of\ntransient acts, or, in other words, modifies itself, a sufficient\nreason must be given, a cause of such modification, by the\nprinciple of causality. Why does it modify itself? What is the\ncause of such a change? The being or subject, or immanent act,\ndoes not contain the sufficient cause of the modification or\nchange; because if it contained it, the act produced would be\npermanent, and not transient, that is, it would have always been\nin the immanent act. For it is a principle of ontology of\nimmediate evidence that, given the _full_ cause, the effect\nfollows. Now the immanent act in question _was_ before the\ntransient act existed; therefore, the immanent act is not full\nand sufficient cause of the transient act which modifies it. If\nit is not the full and sufficient cause of its modification, it\ncannot modify itself without the aid of exterior being. Now, this\nexterior being cannot be supposed to be of the same nature with\nthe act in question, otherwise it would itself require aid.\nTherefore, it must be a being which does it by an eternal\nimmanent act; and that Being is the _Infinite_ of Catholic\nphilosophy.\n\nApply this demonstration to the second principle of pantheism,\nthat the infinite, by a necessary interior movement, unfolds and\ndevelops itself, or modifies itself, it is evident that this\nsecond principle, like the first, is ontologically impossible;\nthat the infinite must either be purely, simply, and eternally\nactual, or it cannot develop itself without the aid of another\nbeing of a different nature; consequently that the second\npantheistic principle is nothing else but the idea of finite\nbeing perfecting itself by the aid of the Infinite of Catholic\nphilosophy.\n\nIn order that this conclusion may appear more evident, we subjoin\nanother argument, more adapted to the comprehension of most\nreaders.\n\n{365}\n\nAccording to the pantheistic hypothesis, the infinite, by a\nnecessary interior action, is forced to expand, to develop\nitself. Now, we want to show that this it cannot do by its\nunaided energy. We prove it thus: This action of the infinite is\na movement; we make use of the word movement in its widest\nsignification, as meaning any action whatever. Now, this movement\neither existed always in the infinite or it had a beginning. In\nthe system of the pantheists it has a beginning, because they\nhold that the infinite successively assumes different forms.\nThere was then a time in which it did not move. Then the infinite\nhad only the power, and not the act of moving; and when it\n_did_ move, it passed from the power to the act.\n\nIt will not do for the pantheist to endeavor to avoid this\nconclusion by saying that the movement of the infinite is\neternal. Conceding that the movement is eternal, we ask, is the\naction only one, or is it multiple? In other words, is the full\nintensity of its energy concentrated in one movement, or is it\ndivided? The pantheist cannot, in force of his system, admit that\nthe whole intensity of its energy is concentrated in a single\nmovement; otherwise, the successive unfoldings were impossible;\nthe unfolding would be instantaneous, and not successive.\n\nThe infinite, then, in its successive unfoldings, passes from the\npower to the act. Now, it is an ontological principle, as evident\nas any axiom of Euclid, that no being can pass from the power to\nthe act, from quiet to movement, but by the aid of another being\nalready in act. For power is, in relation to action, as rest is\nto movement. If the being is in rest, it cannot be in movement;\nif, on the contrary, it is in movement, it cannot be in rest.\nLikewise, if the being is supposed to act, it cannot, at the same\ntime, be supposed to be in potentiality. A being in power and\naction, with regard to the same effects, is as much a\ncontradiction as a being in rest and motion at the same time. To\nmake this more intelligible, let us take an instance. Suppose the\nseed of a tree, say of a lemon: this seed is in potentiality to\nbecome a lemon. But it could never of itself become a lemon;\nbecause, if it could, it were already a lemon; it were a lemon,\nnot in power only, but in act. To become a lemon it must be\nburied in the earth, it must go through the whole process of\nvegetation, and assimilate to itself whatever it needs from the\nearth and the air and the sun; and not until then can it be the\nfruit-tree we call lemon.\n\nNo being, then, can pass from the power to the act, except by the\naid of another being which is in act. Now, the infinite of the\npantheist is continually passing from the power to the act; from\nbeing indefinite and indeterminate, it becomes limited and\ndeterminate. Therefore it cannot do so but by the agency of\nanother being, which is all action and no potentiality.\n\nThis being is God.\n\nWe have examined the first principle of pantheism with regard to\nthe infinite, and we have seen that a being the essence of which\nlies in being made, in becoming, either means something the\nessential elements of which are continually changing, so much so\nas to have no duration whatever, or it means a being which has a\nbeginning and may have an end. In the first case, the infinite of\nthe pantheist would be a mere absurdity, a pure abstraction. In\nthe second, it expresses nothing else but the idea of a finite\nbeing, and leads to the existence of a purely immanent being or\nact.\n{366}\nProceeding to discuss the second principle of pantheism, that the\ninfinite, by a necessary, interior movement, unfolds itself, we\nhave demonstrated that this is impossible; that, granting the\npossibility of the infinite unfolding itself successively, this\nit could never do by its own unaided energy, but requires the\nhelp of another being. That, consequently, the second principle\nof the pantheists leads also to the idea of God as proposed by\nthe Catholic Church.\n\nAs a corollary following from the whole discussion, we draw the\nconclusion that the infinite is utterly inconceivable, unless it\nis supposed to be most perfect, most finished reality, if we may\nspeak thus; that it is altogether absurd, unless it is supposed\nto be pure actuality, without the least mixture of potentiality;\nin a word, pure, simple action itself; in the language of the\nschoolmen, _actus purissimus_.\n\nThe discussion of the pantheistic idea of the infinite has led us\nto the main idea of the infinite as it is given by Catholic\nphilosophy. We shall now proceed to fill up this idea and develop\nit to its utmost conclusions, so as to give an exact and full\nexposition of the doctrine of the infinite, as proposed by\nCatholic philosophy. The result of our discussion has been that\nthe Infinite, or God, is action itself; or, in other words, pure\nactuality, an immanent act without beginning or end. Upon this we\nshall build the whole construction of the essential attributes\nand perfections of God, and admire how consistent, how logical,\nhow sublime, is the Catholic idea of the Infinite.\n\n\n\n I.\n\n God Is Necessary Being.\n\nNecessary being is that the essence of which is one and the same\nthing with its existence; and, _vice versa_, the existence\nof which is one and the same thing with the essence, so much so\nthat the idea of the one implies the idea of the other.\n\nBut God's essence is to be; for we have seen that he is actuality\nor reality itself. Therefore, God is necessary or self-existing\nbeing.\n\nHence the sublime definition he gave of himself to Moses: \"_I\nam WHO am_. _He who is_ sent me to you.\"\n\n\n II.\n\n God Is Eternal.\n\nEternity is duration without succession or change; _duratio\ntota simul_, as the schoolmen would say. Hence it excludes the\nidea either of beginning or end. But duration and actuality are\none and the same thing. Therefore actuality itself is duration\nitself; that is to say, duration without succession or change.\n\nNow, God is actuality itself. Therefore he is eternal.\n\n\n III.\n\n God Is Immutable.\n\nImmutability is life without succession or change; or, in other\nwords, life without beginning or end, and without being subject\nto modifications. Now life is action. Action then, without\nsuccession or change, is immutability.\n\nGod is action itself. Therefore God is immutable.\n\n{367}\n\n IV.\n\n God Is Infinite.\n\nInfinity is being itself with the exclusion of limits, that is,\nof not being; or, to express ourselves more intelligibly, it is\nbeing or perfection in its utmost and supremest actuality,\nexcluding the possibility of any successive actualization, for\nthe reason of its being already all possible actualization. Human\nlanguage is so imperfect and so inadequate that, even in our\nefforts to avoid in the definition of the infinite all idea of\nsuccession or development, we are forced to make use of words\nwhich seem to suppose it. Those who are trained to think\nlogically will grasp the idea without much effort; for the words\n_being itself_, to the exclusion of not being or limitation,\nsufficiently and adequately define the infinite. Now, God, as\naction itself, is being itself. Therefore, God is infinite.\n\n\n\n V.\n\n Immensity Is The Presence Of The\n Whole Being Of God In His Actions.\n\nThis definition of immensity, being somewhat different in words\nfrom that commonly given by metaphysicians, requires explanation.\nLet the reader, then, pay particular attention to the following\nremarks.\n\nUbiquity implies residence of _being_ in space, both\nspiritual and material. By spiritual space we mean the existence\nof different created spirits and nothing more.\n\nBy material space we mean the extension of matter.\n\nThat God can act on or reside in spiritual beings does not\ninvolve any difficulty.\n\nBut how can he reside in material space, space properly so\ncalled?\n\nIt is evident that a spiritual being cannot dwell in space by a\ncontact of extension, since spiritual being is the very opposite\nof extension.\n\nTherefore, a spiritual being can only dwell in space by acting on\nit.\n\nThe presence of the whole being of God in the action by which he\ncreates, sustains, and acts in spiritual and material space, is\nubiquity.\n\nImmensity is the presence of the whole being of God in his\naction. The difference between the two lies in this: that\nubiquity implies a relation to created objects, whereas immensity\nimplies no such relation. We say, then, the presence of the\n_whole being_ of God in his action, because God is pure\nactuality, action itself. If, therefore, in his action we did not\nsuppose the presence of his whole being, we should establish a\ndivision in God; that is, we should suppose his being and his\naction to be distinct, which they are not, and this distinction\nwould imply a development in God, which is contrary to his being\naction or actuality itself.\n\nIt will easily be remarked that immensity is an attribute which\nflows immediately from the idea of God being actuality itself. We\nmay therefore conclude that he is immense.\n\n\n VI.\n\n God Is Absolute Simplicity.\n\nAbsolute simplicity, in its negative aspect, implies the absence\nof all possible composition or distinction in a being; the\ndistinction, for instance, of essence and existence, of faculties\nand attributes.\n\nNow, God is pure actuality, and this excludes all idea of such\ndistinctions. Therefore, God is simplicity itself.\n\n\n VII.\n\n God Is One.\n\nGod is a necessary being, eternal, immutable, infinite, immense,\nall of which are sides of one idea--that of pure actuality.\n\n{368}\n\nNow, such a being can be but one, as is evident to every mind\nwhich understands the terms. God is therefore one.\n\nBefore we leave this part of the subject, let us compare both the\npantheistic and the Catholic ideas of _God_, so that, when\nbrought together face to face, they may appear in a better and\nmore distinct light.\n\nGod, according to the pantheists, is an eternal, self-existing\n_something_, devoid of all determination or limit, of all\nindividuality, of all consciousness, of all personality, of all\nshape or form.\n\nWhen well examined, the principle of the pantheists presents no\nother idea to the mind than that of possibility, a kind of\nself-existent possibility, if we may bring together two terms\nwhich exclude each other.\n\nStarting from this possibility, the pantheists make it acquire\ndetermination, concreteness, consciousness, personality, by\nsupposing an interior necessary force of development.\n\nThe Catholic idea of God is the very opposite of the pantheistic.\n\nFor, whereas they make God a possibility, something that is\nbecoming, to be made; the Catholic Church exhibits him as\nreality, actuality, being itself. It is careful to eliminate from\nhim the least idea of potentiality or possibility, of becoming\nsomething, or of being subject to development or perfection;\nbecause it insists that God is all reality, perfectly and\nabsolutely actual. Any idea of further perfection is not only to\nbe excluded from him, but cannot even be conceived; for the\nsimple reason that he is all perfection, absolute, eternal\nperfection.\n\nThat this is the only reasonable idea of God is evident to every\nmind which is capable of understanding the terms. For happily it\ndoes not require a long and difficult demonstration to prove the\nfalsehood and absurdity of the pantheistic, and the truth of the\nCatholic, idea of God. The understanding of the terms is quite\nsufficient.\n\nWhoever says possibility, excludes, by the very force of the\nterm, existence and reality. A self-existent possibility is a\ncontradiction in terms; for possibility excludes existence, and\nself-existence implies it necessarily.\n\nAn eternal possibility is also a contradiction in terms; for\neternity excludes all succession or mutation, and possibility\nimplies it. An infinite possibility is yet more absurd; because\ninfinite means absolute reality and actuality; possibility, on\nthe contrary, implies only power of being.\n\nBut, on the contrary, how logical, how consistent, how grand, and\nhow conformable to all ontological principles is the idea of God\nheld by the Catholic Church! God is absolute, pure, unmixed\nactuality and reality. Therefore he is self-existing being\nitself; therefore he is eternal, because pure actuality is at the\nsame time pure duration; therefore he is immutable, since pure\nactuality excludes all change and development; therefore he is\ninfinite, because he is being itself, the essential being,\n_the_ being; therefore he is simplicity itself, because a\ndistinction would imply a composition, and all composition is\nrejected by actuality most pure, so to speak, unalloyed, unmixed.\n\nThe God of the pantheist is a nullity, a negation; the God of the\nCatholic Church is really the Infinite. He is in himself whatever\nis real and actual in spirit, whatever is real and positive in\nmatter, whatever is real and positive in the essence of all\ncreatures. But he has all the reality of spirit without its\nlimitation; all the reality of matter without its limitation; all\nthe reality of all creatures without their limitation. All this\nreality in him is not such and such reality; but he is all\nreality, pure, unmixed reality, without limit and without\ndistinction.\n\n{369}\n\nWhat leads the pantheists into the admission of their principle\nis a false, wrong idea of the infinite. They suppose, and suppose\nrightly, that the infinite must contain all reality; and seeing\naround them such a multitude of different beings or creatures,\neach one with its particular difference and individualization,\nthey ask themselves the question, How can all these differences\nbe concentrated in one being?--the infinite--and in endeavoring\nto resolve it they admit a first something undefined,\nindeterminate, which assumes gradually all these different forms.\n\nWhat is this but a very material and vulgar idea of the infinite?\nThat it was the idea of the first who began to philosophize is\nintelligible. But that modern philosophers should have no higher\ncomprehension of the infinite, that they should not conceive how\nthe infinite can be all reality, in its being without\ndistinction, composition, change, or succession, is quite\ninconceivable; and is much less than we should expect from men\nboasting so loudly of their enlightenment.\n\nLet them hear a Catholic philosopher of the middle ages upon the\nsubject. After having demonstrated that whatever is real in the\ncreature is to be found in God as the infinite and most perfect,\nhe proposes the other question, How can all these perfections be\nfound in God? and he answers, that they are necessarily to be\nfound in God, but in a most simple manner, as one and single\nperfection. We subjoin his words:\n\n \"From what we have said, it evidently follows that the\n perfections of creatures are essentially unified in God. For we\n have shown that God is simple. Now, where there is simplicity\n there cannot be found diversity in the interior of the being.\n If, then, all the perfections of creatures are to be found in\n the infinite, it is impossible that they could be there with\n their differences. It follows, then, that they must be in him\n as ONE.\n\n \"This becomes evident, if we reflect upon what takes place in\n the faculties of comprehension. For a superior power grasps, by\n one and the same act of comprehension, all those things known,\n under different points of view, by inferior powers. In fact,\n the intelligence judges, by a unique and simple act, all the\n perceptions of sight, of hearing, and of the other senses. The\n same occurs in sciences: although inferior sciences are various\n in virtue of their different objects, there is, however, in\n them all a superior science which embraces all, and which is\n called transcendental philosophy. The same thing happens with\n relation to authority. For in the royal authority, which is\n one, are included all the other subordinate authorities, which\n are divided for the government of the kingdom. It is thus\n necessary that the perfections of inferior creatures, which are\n multiplied according to the difference of beings, be found\n together as one, in the principle of all things--God!\"\n [Footnote 132]\n\n [Footnote 132: St Thomas's\n _Compendium Theologiae_, cap. 22.]\n\n ----------\n\n{370}\n\n The Right Path found through the Great Snow.\n\n\nThe drifting, wide-spread snowstorm of January 17th, 1867, will\nlive in the memory of the \"oldest inhabitant\" among the strange\nthings of that eventful year. It confirmed in its depth and\nfulness the weird stories of our grandsires, which our later\nyears had come to look upon as myths; of benighted travellers\nburied in drifts that covered houses; of common roads only made\npassable by archways cut through the white heaps; of houses where\nthe only egress was by the upper windows, or perhaps the\nchimneys. Among the multitudes who found themselves snow-bound on\nthat memorable Thursday aforesaid, I was shut up to the cold\ncomfort of a country inn, in a bleak, mountainous district, where\nI had arrived the previous evening with the intention of spending\nonly a night and day; less, if the business that brought me could\nbe transacted in a shorter time. I had engaged the parlor and\nbed-room adjoining, that I might occupy myself with necessary\nwriting uninterrupted by any chance arrival. The dimensions of my\nsuite of apartments were small, and the furniture of the plainest\nkind; a dingy carpet covered the floor, and green and yellow\npaper adorned the walls. The brilliancy of the _tout\nensemble_ was heightened by a series of coarse, highly-colored\nplates, representing the life of the prodigal son in all its\nphases, and an equally radiant \"family tree,\" laden with what was\nintended to represent tropical fruits, in red and yellow, the\noranges bearing the names and dates of the female members of the\nfamily, and the lemons those of the males; a very suggestive\npicture certainly, and one that told some queer tales of my\nlandlord's family, _Fox's Book of Martyrs_ and an almanac\nfor '66 were the only books the room furnished. The chairs were\nof the stiffest pattern, arranged in funereal order around the\nsides of the apartment, with a notable exception in a large\nstuffed arm-chair, of the olden times, which I drew before the\nopen grate piled with blazing peat.\n\nThat fire was a comfort indeed. A sight almost lost in these days\nin New England; it helped me to forget, in its beautiful\nvariations, the dashing appearance of the youth pictured on the\nwalls, and the cruel plates and malicious lies of the \"English\nmartyrologist.\"\n\nLittle did I dream, as I arranged my plans for the next day, of\nthe change that would come over the outer world while I slept,\nalthough there were already signs of a coming storm. I looked\nfrom my windows in the morning, through the large elms, heavy\nwith the accumulating weight, across the road and opposite fields\nwhich the snow had swept into one broad expanse of whiteness,\nobscuring landmarks and obliterating fences, and which the\nfurious wind was now lashing into billows, all dead white, save\nwhere\n\n \"Some dark ravine\n Took shadow, or the sombre green\n Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black\n Against the whiteness at their back.\"\n\n{371}\n\nTo be \"snow-bound\" may be very nice in a large, well-ordered\nhousehold; but in solitude, with neither books nor companions,\nand with the remembrance of a family far away, who perchance may\njust then need your stout arm to release them from a like\nimprisonment, it is not a cheerful position; and I could not\nrepress a sigh as I gazed over the trackless way, remembering\nthat I was five miles from a railroad station, in a small upland\nvillage, not famous for the enterprise of the inhabitants. The\nsigh was scarcely breathed when, on the confines of the opposite\nmeadow, I espied two figures struggling against the elements,\nevidently intent on working their way to the inn through the\nterrible drifts. It was weary work; for they fell and arose again\noften, during the short time I watched them before hastening to\nthe old landlord, who was smoking his pipe where was once the\nbarroom, and dreaming over the visions of his long-gone youth. As\nsoon as the purpose of my call was known, he summoned three stout\nlaborers from the kitchen, where they were rejoicing with the\nmaids over the prospect of an idle day, and bade them go at once\nto the relief of the travellers. I grew impatient with the long\ndelay of the servants, the more as but one of the two men was to\nbe seen breasting the storm; the other must have fallen.\nForgetting my delicate lungs and small physique, I donned my\novercoat and hat, and, fortified with a flask of brandy, hastened\nto the rescue, reflecting that brains are often as useful as\nmuscle in an emergency. The more successful traveller, a stout\nson of \"green Erin,\" was quite exhausted when we reached him; but\nhe found breath to articulate, in answer to our inquiries for his\ncompanion: \"Indeed, he fell near the big tree. Oh! he be's a real\ngintleman.\" The informer was conveyed to the house by two of the\nmen, while with what seemed to me supernatural strength, I made\nmy way with the third toward the aforesaid \"big tree,\" walking on\nthe drifts where the stouter man went down, and though the\nstrong, keen northwest wind nearly took away my breath, and the\nsleet almost blinded me, I was first on the spot. It seemed to me\ntwo hours, though it was less than half that time, from the\nmoment when I lifted the head of the fallen man and succeeded in\npouring into his mouth a spoonful of brandy, till we landed with\nour burden at the door of the inn.\n\nThere was something in my first glance upon that cold, handsome\nface that came to me like a dream of early days--something that\nclaimed kindred with the associations of my youth. By the\nmotherly solicitude of the landlady I knew that he would be\nspeedily resuscitated, and, prostrated by my exertions, I was\nleaving him in her care, when I stooped to reach the hat of the\ngentleman from the floor where it had been thrown, when I saw the\nname \"Redwood R. Hood,\" written in the crown. Immediately I knew\nwhy I had been impressed with his face, and turning to that form\nover which strangers were bending with curious gaze I said\nperemptorily, \"Take the gentleman to my room; he is a friend of\nmine; and, Mrs. S----,\" I added to the landlady, who looked\nincredulous, \"with your help we can very soon restore the\ncirculation, and he will have more quiet there than here.\" I will\nnot enter into the process of resuscitation; let it suffice that\nby evening my friend was the occupant of the large arm-chair\nbefore the piles of burning peat, and we had gone over the years\nintervening between us, with the circumstances of our meeting\nagain in a summary manner, and we now sat in the early twilight\nquietly looking at one another.\n\n{372}\n\n\"The 'wolf' snow came near devouring little 'Red Riding Hood'\nthis time,\" I said, bursting into a laugh again at the joyous\nmemories that name recalled.\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the pale figure opposite, \"and I owe my life\nto you, William Dewey, the '_billet doux_' of early days.\nHappy hours of our youth!\" he added, almost regretfully. \"Yes,\nthey were happy,\" I responded, \"even with all their drawbacks;\nyet what do you think now of the sermons of two hours in length\nfilled with the strong meat of total depravity, election,\ninability, foreordination, and reprobation, to which we were\nunder bonds to listen and to give a rehash at home, and the\ntedious prayers which we were obliged to take all standing; a\nmuch more respectful attitude, however, than the lounging,\nsitting posture of the present generation of the so-called\northodox?\"\n\n\"Do you remember,\" he said, a smile spreading all over his face,\n\"when we were at Parson Freewill's school in L----, in the old\nmeeting-house with the square pews, with seats that lifted when\nthe congregation arose for prayer, and the vigorous slam we gave\nthe covers when we reseated ourselves? I think that powerful\nstroke rather compensated for the length of the prayer; it was\nsomething to look forward to. But my most fearful remembrance is\nthe hour after supper devoted to the Assembly's Catechism. I can\nsee my poor aunt now, shaking her grey curls over the old family\nBible, from which she was endeavoring to prove to me the words of\nthe Catechism which said I had lost all communion with God, was\nunder his wrath and curse, and so made liable to all the miseries\nof this life and the pains of hell for ever, and that through no\nfault of mine; but that such was the corruption of my nature that\nI was utterly indisposed and made opposite unto all that is\nspiritually good, and wholly inclined to evil, and that\ncontinually!\" (_Vide_ Catechism of Westminster Assembly.)\n\n\"How is it possible you have your catechism at your tongue's end\neven at this date?\" I replied. \"Really I doubt if I could repeat\nan answer correctly; but I thank God who has brought me out of\nsuch terrible darkness.\"\n\n\"Then you have escaped?\" he inquired, putting out his hand to\ngrasp mine; \"you, a deacon's son, brought up in the very midst of\n'Brimstone Corner'! Well, well! I must believe the age of\nmiracles has not passed, for this cannot be anything less than a\nmiracle!\"\n\n\"Yes, a miracle indeed,\" I replied gravely. \"A double miracle,\nthat I escaped, and am at last anchored.\"\n\n\"Anchored!\" he exclaimed incredulously, \"do tell me where you can\nfind bottom after such uprooting.\"\n\n\"Where you will perhaps despise me more than if I had been\ncontent to walk the Calvinistic rut through life,\" was my reply,\nas I gave into his hand my prayer-book. He examined it with\ncuriosity and surprise. \"A Catholic! a Roman Catholic!\" he\nexclaimed at length, with a shade of what I thought savored of\ncontempt in the tone of his voice; \"you, William Dewey, son of\nDeacon Norman Dewey, of the puritanical city of Boston, you a\nPapist! Excuse me if I cannot help saying, it seems to me, 'out\nof the frying-pan into the fire.'\"\n\n\"And pray, may I ask where you find yourself religiously?\" I\nsaid; \"men of our years, after the fifties, ought to be fixed\nsomewhere.\"\n\n{373}\n\n\"On the other pole from yourself,\" he replied quickly; \"I believe\nin no creed, no church, no--\"\n\n\"No God?\" I questioned, a little satirically.\n\n\"A great first cause, certainly,\" he said slowly. \"Yes, the God\nin everything, 'Jehovah, Jove, or Lord,' the true Shekinah is\nman. But let us not mar this pleasant reunion with discussions.\nWith your fixed faith, you can have no sympathy religiously with\none the pride of whose creed is, that it is changing daily,\nwholly unfixed and afloat.\"\n\n\"There you mistake,\" I replied earnestly. \"I can and do most\nheartily sympathize with you; for I floated for years on that\nsame waste of waters--that shoreless sea of doubt.\"\n\n\"Is it possible! and came at last where you are? I know nothing\nabout the Catholic faith, I must own, from actual study, and from\nwhat I have heard I did not think it would bear examination; but\nthere must be something in it if it has caught you, and, if you\nlike, it would give me pleasure to hear the process: but perhaps\nyou will object?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" I replied, \"but it would take me all night to tell\nyou the course I run in this matter, and fatigue you after your\nmisadventure to listen.\"\n\n\"I think it would do me good,\" he said more earnestly than he had\nyet spoken; \"I am really impressed with a desire to know how such\na transformation could take place, and you come to embrace what\nyou were brought up to hate. As to my strength and ability to\nlisten, I am about as well as usual, but miss my tobacco sadly.\nMy meerschaum probably lies in the drift that had nearly been my\nwinding-sheet.\" I went to the hall and despatched a servant, who\nsoon returned with a box of clay pipes and tobacco in one hand,\nand the missing meerschaum in the other.\n\n\"We must be in a remarkably primitive region to find this again,\nand without reward,\" he cried, looking tenderly at the old\nfriend. \"Now go on,\" he added, after the first puff; \"begin at\nthe beginning, where you used to be flogged about every Sunday\nfor going reluctantly to catechism. Oh! if there is any one thing\nmore than another that upset that old cross-grained theology of\nour childhood, it was those dreaded Sundays; when, after two\nsessions of Sunday-school, two long sermons, and an hour's\nsitting on the Westminster Divines, we were allowed some\nspiritual sugar-plums in the shape of the _Memoir of Nathan\nDickerman, Life of Mrs. Harriet Newell_, or some other\nquestionable saint. Yours was a large family at home, and did not\nfeel what it was to be the sole recipient of the full vials of\nreprobation. What saved us from being arrant hypocrites or open\ninfidels?\"\n\nThough I questioned in my own mind how far my friend's religion\nwas from infidelity, I replied, \"The fact that we felt that our\nteachers' hearts were better than their creed; for surely never\ndid there exist a man more free from every taint of hypocrisy\nthan my honored father, who held tenaciously to the five articles\nagreed to by the Synod of Dort, which represented most of the\nCalvinistic churches of Europe, looked upon Calvin's Institutes\nas binding next to the Bible, and I believe worshipped this\nterrible God in whom he believed with the most earnest faith.\"\n\n{374}\n\n\"And you a Catholic!\" he said, striking his hands together.\n\"Excuse me if I repeat what I said. I cannot see how you have\nbettered the matter, since the Catholic Church holds to total\ndepravity and foreornination, and moreover excludes all from any\nhope of salvation who do not bow their necks to her yoke.\"\n\n\"Excuse me for flatly contradicting you, but the Catholic Church\ndoes not hold the doctrine of the total depravity of the human\nrace; on the contrary, she ever teaches that man did not lose by\nthe Fall the image of God, or his own free will, or the powers of\nhis reason. But you asked me how I became a Catholic. I am more\ninterested in telling you that than in refuting what her enemies\nsay of the church, because that you can find in books any day;\nbut you must allow me to echo your surprise when I see a large,\nearnest soul like yours satisfied with a simple negation of\nfaith.\"\n\n\"Satisfied! if by satisfaction you mean certainty, I say no; for\nI do not believe it is to be found. The best, I find, is to\nfollow the light that comes to me,\" he added, with, I thought, a\nshade of sadness in his tone; \"I broke the fetters of Calvinism\nwith a bound, and when I had started, there was nothing for me to\ndo but to cut loose from everything traditional, and rest solely\non reason. But tell me of yourself, for any man who is in\nearnest, thinking for himself, I respect, be he Mormon or\nMohammedan.\"\n\n\"I thank you for my share of the respect,\" I replied, \"though I\ndo not consider it very flattering. I never was a Calvinist; my\nearliest reason rebelled against the teachings, and many a\nsnubbing did I get in my youth for daring to\nquestion--'_cavil_,' it was called. I went through all the\nphases of the system, trying to believe as I was taught; for I\nhad large human respect and strong desire to please, with a\ndevout turn of mind, making many a violent effort to be in a\ncondition to become, what my friends wished, 'a professor;' but\nmy conscience was too clamorous to allow me to pretend that I had\n'obtained a hope,' or 'experienced religion.' Invariably, after a\nfew weeks of fervor, I settled back into a state of indifference\nor doubt, although, to please my father, I was a constant\nattendant on all 'inquiry-meetings' and 'anxious-seats.' When I\nthink of those meetings and the self-constituted teachers, who\ncame there to hear the confessions, and to guide anxious souls in\nthe road to heaven, a flash of indignation passes through my\nframe. About five years after, we parted as school-mates; you for\nthe South and a stirring business life, I to New-England and the\nmeditative days of a student. I was attracted and fascinated by\nthe specious talk of transcendentalism; it was my first taste of\nliberty. I read, thought, and dreamed; tried to feed my soul on\nnaturalism, and to renounce everything supernatural; talked very\nflippantly about the God in everything as the object of my\nworship; but my hungry soul was unsatisfied; there was a cold,\ndreary chilliness, and undefined nothingness, a rejoicing in\nuncertainty, which brought nothing like food to my spirit. This\n_faith_ (if it deserves the name) flattered my proud heart,\ngiving me the 'genus homo' as an object of worship; but I saw\nplainly that it could never reach the needs of humanity, and\nthough 'brotherhood' was its watchword and cry, it could never be\na religion for the masses. It was only for the refined, the\ncultivated, the gentle, and the good. Where were the abandoned,\nthe dissolute, the coarse, vulgar herd to find a God in such a\nsnare? I often asked myself this question, and this specious\ninfidelity gave me no answer.\n{375}\nOf the Catholic Church, I am ashamed to say, I then knew nothing,\nexcept that I had often heard her called 'the mother of harlots,'\n'Babylon,' 'the scarlet woman,' and such like attractive names,\nbut it did not once occur to me that I ought to examine her\nclaims; floating as I was, seeking for foothold, she was not\npresented to my mind as an object to be looked at or feared, only\nto be despised. At that time I was associated with many of the\npurest and noblest spirits, longing and feeling after God by the\ndim light of nature; trying to think him out for themselves;\nfinite minds blinded by vain efforts to comprehend the infinite.\nThe first genuine wave of affliction brought me to a standstill\non the brink of the abyss that says there is no God. I lost my\nmother; she was one of those timid, fearful souls, and had not\nthat 'assurance' of which Calvinists make their boast; the words\nspoken of my precious mother after her burial nearly drove me\nwild; they snapped the last cord that bound me to the iron system\nof opinions which had thrown their shadow over my young life.\nThree years of rushing into the world to drive away thought\nfollowed this terrible blow, and then came a blessing--the best\nblessing of my life.\"\n\n\"A wife?\" questioned my friend, as I paused a moment in my\nrecital; \"a wife, yes, I have it,\" as a smile twinkled in the\ncorners of his clear grey eyes and spread over his handsome face;\n\"I see it, she knocked the transcendentalism out of you with the\nCatholic hammer.\"\n\n\"Hardly,\" I replied, joining in the hearty laugh that followed\nhis remark; \"being a fearfully high-church woman, and looking\nupon hers as the only pure branch--the _via media_--the only\nbarrier against Rome, 'Romanism,' as she sedulously named the\nCatholic Church, was the only thing her loving soul was bitter\nagainst.\"\n\n\"Then you came through the gate of ritualism?\" he questioned\nagain; \"a very natural sequence.\"\n\n\"You are excellent in jumping at conclusions,\" I answered; \"I\ncould never embrace the Anglican myth, though I was bound by my\nown creed not to trouble myself about that of other people. I was\nbrought behind the curtain of this household, however, and saw\nthe cruel intestine warfare between high and low church; the\nvital difference in the teaching of the two classes of clergymen,\nthe 'sacramental' and the 'evangelical;' and I saw within her\nfold young, earnest hearts becoming partisans in these divisions\nand calling it zeal for God. I often heard more talk of an\nevening over the particular shade of an altar-cloth, the size and\npattern of book-marks for the altar, the proper position of\nfaldstools, credences, sedilia; the way in which a clergyman read\nor pronounced, the depth of the genuflection he made in the\ncreed, and so forth, than I have heard the whole ten years I have\nbeen in the Catholic Church. I saw, too, that she was eminently\nthe church of the fashionable, 'the most genteel denomination,'\nas I heard one of her members declare, with much\nself-satisfaction, containing the 'cream of society;' the poor\nshut out from her churches, and compensated by mission-chapels\nfor their exclusive use. Of course my wife was very earnest to\nmake me a convert to Episcopacy, and by her repeated\nsolicitations I examined the 'Book of Common Prayer,' as she so\noften said (what is a truth everywhere) that one must not judge\nof a religious body by individual members or teachers, but by her\nstandards.\n{376}\nI was strongly confirmed, by this examination, in my opinion of\nthe want of conformity to their own rules by many of the clergy,\nand the helplessness to reach them by discipline, which is the\nfirst requisite in a well-ordered household. That the body of the\nbook contradicted the thirty-nine articles was as plain as that\n'Protestant' was on the title-page; for while one acknowledged\npriest, altar, and sacrifice, the other stoutly denied all\nthree.\"\n\n\"And did you make known the result of your investigations to Mrs.\nDewey, or did you leave her in ignorance of what you had found?\"\n\n\"I dreaded to shake her faith, knowing that I had nothing to give\nher in its place, and I withheld my conclusions, till she\ninsisted so earnestly, assuring me that she could not be moved,\nthat I yielded. I could see that she was moved by what I said;\nbut she was only carried forward, grasping more firmly the\nfragments of Catholic truth she already held, and growing, as I\nafterward knew, into a more Catholic spirit. At length I said to\nher, as she was mourning over the want of unity among her chosen\npeople, and the alarming progress of 'Romanism,' which had just\nclasped in its embrace one of her dearest friends, 'Suppose, my\ndear, you and I were to look into this matter; I have no doubt\nyou would be more of an Anglican than ever, and I less in favor\nof creeds. It is but fair we should give Catholics a hearing; for\nmy part, I know nothing of them except from their enemies.' She\nwas inclined to listen to my proposition; but her spiritual\npastor, from whom she hid none of her religious difficulties, put\na veto on the examination, by forbidding her to read or to talk\nwith any one on the subject. Indignant at what I then thought his\nnarrow-mindedness, but which I now see was only proper\nself-preservation, I determined to pursue my investigations\nalone, though it was the first time in our married life that any\nsubject of interest had not been common with us. I procured such\nbooks as were within my reach, and commenced my inquiries. It was\na most interesting study, and opened a new world of thought to\nme; every moment of leisure for six months was given to the\nsearch, into which I entered as I would into a question of law,\nconsulting and comparing authorities, examining both sides,\nquestioning and cross-questioning witnesses. But we are touching\non the time of sleep,\" I said, as the hall-clock struck the hour\nof midnight.\n\n\"Oh! no, go on,\" he replied eagerly, \"you don't know how\ninterested I am.\"\n\n\"No,\" I said firmly, \"your experience of to-day requires that you\nshould rest; and as there is no prospect of getting away from\nhere, I shall have ample time to finish my tale to-morrow.\" I\ninsisted upon his occupying my quarters, being the most\ncomfortable in the house, and as I went to my rest in another\napartment, and thought of the eagerness with which he had\nlistened to my recital, I breathed a prayer that God would give\nhim light.\n\nThe sun arose clear and bright the following morning, and the\nwind, that had made such havoc with the snowdrifts the previous\nday, had died away into a cold calm. I watched from the window\nthe long line of men and boys, with patient oxen, tugging and\ntoiling at the great white heaps. I had _Snow Bound_ in my\ncoat-pocket, and took this opportunity of assuring myself of the\ntruth of the beautiful word-pictures therein painted.\n{377}\nIt was quite late when my friend appeared from the inner room,\nand in answer to my inquiry if he had rested well replied, \"I\nhave not once wakened since I succeeded in driving our\nconversation from my mind, which I did after a long process, by\nrepeating the multiplication table over and over till I fell\nasleep. We cannot get away to-day,\" he added, going to the\nwindow. \"I am glad of that, for I am impatient to hear you out.\"\nHe was uneasy till breakfast was dispatched, our grate and pipes\nreplenished, and we seated again for a talk.\n\n\"Now tell me the result of your lawyer-like examination of\nauthorities,\" he said by way of commencement.\n\n\"Yes, it was indeed lawyer-like,\" I replied; \"for prejudice,\nfeeling, early impressions, all went against the decision. But\nthe logical conclusion, from what I read, was this: _if_\n(mind I got no further than the _if_) the Bible is the word\nof God, it certainly teaches that our Lord established a church,\nand gave to that one body apostles and teachers, conferring on\nthem wonderful powers, to be continued for all time in some way;\nfor he says, 'I am with you all days, even to the consummation of\nthe world;' with the same breath with which he tells them to\npreach the Gospel, he bids them to bind and loose, to work\nmiracles and to feed his flock. These are the facts on the face\nof the Gospel narrative. I tried to explain these things in some\nother way; I even went to commentators; but the candid\nexamination I had promised forbade my trusting any man's opinion.\nI went to the early Fathers, (whom, by the way, I had always\nignored, as is the fashion;) I found that they reasoned very much\nlike other men; they asked questions, and answered them. I saw\nthat if these powers were given, as the Scripture asserts, to the\nchosen twelve, these were the men to whom they were transmitted.\nWithout exception they confirmed the teaching of the Bible with\nregard to the church, and opened still more fully the dogmas of\nScripture. I compared them one with another, and found that,\nwithout any denial or variation, they declared the authority of\nthe church and the necessity of the sacraments. It was also plain\nthat this church being one and universal, having the same faith\nand discipline wherever established, until some body of men\n_protested_ against some received doctrine, no dogma assumed\nprominence, the faith was one perfect whole. But while, as I told\nyou, I had gone no further than 'if,' my wife, by an entirely\ndifferent road, was coming to the same gate. Her pastor had given\nher two very beautiful devotional works, that charmed her beyond\nanything she had ever seen; but during one of the rare calls of\nher Catholic friend, (for her guide had advised her to renounce\nthis friendship, but I, with a higher claim on her obedience, had\nforbidden this sacrifice,) during this call, these books were the\nsubject of discourse, and Miss M---- told her she wished her\nnothing better to read, as they were both translations of\nCatholic authors, which she proved by bringing the originals in\nFrench at her next visit. My wife saw at once the absurdity of\ndenying her Catholic books, and giving them to her in disguise.\nThis honest guide of souls had also told her that 'Romanists'\naltered the commandments, leaving out the second entirely, lest\nit should condemn their idolatry; while her friend gave her the\nCatechism which is taught to all Catholic children, where the\ncommandments are written as they were spoken on Mount Sinai. I\nthink these two mistakes (I will call them by a mild name) of her\npastor shook her faith in him very essentially.\n{378}\nFrom that day we talked freely; I gave her my conclusions, with\nthe '_if_,' and she took the Fathers for daily reading. I\nhad gone no further than the _if_--my pride prevented--when\nit pleased Almighty God to take from us our eldest son, and to\nbring my wife to the borders of the grave. What could comfort me,\nas I looked at my beautiful boy cold and lifeless, and my wife at\nthat point where earthly help is unavailing? The cheerless creed\nthat I had held with so much pride gave me not a glimmer of\nlight. I called reason to my aid, but I called in vain; it was no\npleasure to me to think of those I had loved and lost reabsorbed\ninto Deity, never more to be anything to me. How could it satisfy\nme, yearning for the treasures I was losing, to feel that 'there\nis no time, no space; we are we know not what, light sparkles in\nthe ether of Deity.' The words which I had used in answer to my\nwife's questioning, 'if this be true,' followed me continually;\nnow, I needed to know if it were true; I needed something firm to\nrest me in that weary hour. It was many years since I had knelt\nin prayer; now I was bowed to the earth, and my whole cry was,\n'Lord, give me light.' I am ashamed to tell you of the fearful\nstruggle with my pride, when at last the light of faith came into\nmy bewildered and darkened soul, the many worldly ties that held\nme back, the loss of position and favor which I feared; I blush\nfor my cowardice, it was unworthy of the name of man made in the\nimage of God. My beloved wife knew not of this strife in my soul;\nin her extremity she had sent for her pastor, and received all he\ncould give her of the rites of his church; but she was not\nsatisfied. What was my surprise to hear her say, as if the sight\nof death had given her boldness, 'There is the command of St.\nJames for the comfort and help of the sick and dying; why may I\nnot have it? 'Ah! my child,' he replied, 'that was given for the\nearly ages of the church, and passed away with them.' 'But why do\nwe not need it as well as they?' she questioned, 'It is too much\nfor you to argue in your present state,' was his cold reply, 'but\nit is sufficient for me, as an obedient son of the church, to\nsubmit to the deprivation, since our holy mother has not seen fit\nto retain it.' I saw the speciousness of the reasoning wherewith\nhe silenced her, and I sat by the patient sufferer after the\ndeparture of the divine so faithful to his church, hesitating as\nto my duty in the matter, when she cried out as if in anguish,\n'Oh! if I only knew it was right, only knew--'\n\n\"'What was right?' I questioned, holding her trembling hand. 'I\nwant confession, I want absolution, I want the anointing of the\nsick,' she said eagerly, her dark eyes bent on me imploringly.\n'You shall not be denied,' I replied, and, leaving her with the\nnurse, I went for the nearest Catholic priest. I will not enter\ninto details; let it suffice that, before two hours had passed,\nmy wife was a member of the Catholic Church, improved in physical\ncondition and mental quietness, and I was preparing for baptism.\"\n\nI paused in my recital; I saw that my friend was much moved, even\nas I had been, by the memories of the past. After a moment, he\ngave me his hand cordially, saying, \"Thank you heartily, it has\ndone me good;\" then, after another pause. \"But tell me one thing\ncandidly, have neither of you regretted the step; never wished\nyourselves back again?\"\n\n{379}\n\n\"Regretted!\" I cried indignantly, \"wished ourselves back to a\nregion of doubt and uncertainty! Why, I say a _Gloria_ every\nmorning that I am a Catholic; and my wife sings _Te Deum_\nall the time.\"\n\n\"And did you suffer all you expected,\" he asked, \"in the way of\nloss of friends?\"\n\nI had nothing in my experience worthy of the name of suffering;\nbut my wife endured much in the way of reproach, withdrawal of\nfriendship, and the cold shoulder socially.\"\n\n\"But let me ask one thing, and don't feel hurt; how do you, with\nyour fastidious tastes, worship in churches crammed to the full\nwith the laboring Irish, before those tawdry altars which I have\nsometimes seen?\" I felt the color rising to my cheek at this\nquestion, but I replied calmly, crushing the temptation to be\nsevere, and remembering what this thought was to me before the\nlight of faith illumined my soul, \"You can never know what it is\nto forget distinctions till you believe in that Presence which\ndwells on Catholic altars. It would ill become sinful man to\nobject to other company he finds in church when Jesus our God\ncondescends to be present for our sake. My wife seeks out the\nchurches frequented by the very poorest; she says she feels\nnearer God when she has his poor by her side. As to the tawdry\naltars, you must remember that the love and devotion of an\nuneducated and unrefined taste is as truly expressed by something\ncommon and showy, as your refined delicacy would be by more\nexquisite adornment. God looketh at the heart; and the poor\nservant-girl who presents to her favorite altar bouquets of gaudy\nartificial flowers, for the sake of her dear Lord whom she really\nbelieves to be present there, is as acceptable as the lady who\nsends her lovely blossoms from the hot-house. In the Catholic\nChurch in this country--and may I not say in every country?--the\npoor are in the majority among her members.\"\n\nAs I spoke, the steam-whistle, the first since the storm, sounded\nthrough the air. With a regretful look, Mr. Hood went to the\nwindow. \"That reminds us,\" he said, \"that the world is moving\nagain.\"\n\n\"You will go to my home with me,\" I replied; \"you must.\"\n\n\"Not now,\" he answered; \"but when the business that brought me to\nthis part of the country is accomplished, I will come and talk\nwith your wife about this matter before I leave for California.\"\n\nAccording to promise, he came; and when he left us for his\nSouthern home, we were not without hope that our long talks had\nhad an effect; my wife would not leave him till she had his\npromise that he would examine for himself, prayerfully,\nearnestly, and thoroughly, and would write me the result, which I\nhave in a letter by to-day's mail.\n\n San Francisco, Cal., Oct. 24, 1867.\n S. _Raphael the Archangel_.\n\n My Dear Dewey: I was received into the Catholic Church to-day.\n _Laus Deo!_ I wonder how any one can remain out of it; it\n is such a joy to have a foothold, to know that one stands on\n something, and that something firmer than the \"everlasting\n hills.\" I must give up my business in this publishing house;\n for I cannot have my name any longer linked with the falsehoods\n that teem from the press, against Christ's Church. It is a\n disgrace that American school-books should contain such lies as\n you find on the pages of the Readers, Geographies, and\n especially the Histories, which are the text-books of our\n institutions of learning. May the good God help me to repair\n the injustice I have done in this matter as a publisher.\n\n{380}\n\n I am the wonder and pity of the old transcendental clique here,\n who, as one of them said to me yesterday, \"can't understand how\n a man can go back to the dark ages for his religion.\" I told\n him my faith illumined what he called the \"dark ages\" till they\n transcended the nineteenth century in brilliancy. My younger\n children were baptized with me; I hope in time to see all my\n dear ones safely housed. Tell Mrs. Dewey, with my kindest\n remembrance, to sing _Te Deum_ for me, and don't forget me\n and mine in your prayers, Very sincerely yours in the blessed\n faith,\n\n Redwood Raphael Hood.\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The Revue Generale, Of Brussels.\n\n The Good Old Time And Our Own.\n\n\nIn the daily struggle for truth and right, in our hours of\nlassitude and discouragement, how willingly we believe that\nformerly the battle of life was less severe than nowadays. We\nlove to compare ourselves with our predecessors, pigmies to us\ngiants of the nineteenth century, and sincerely believe them so,\neither because of our short-sightedness or because of the great\ndistance from which we regard them. But when, by the study of\nhistory, we have drawn nearer the distances which separate these\nepochs of the different evolutions of humanity, we become at the\nsame time more modest and more courageous; more modest, because\nwe know our fathers have had to struggle as much if not more than\nourselves; more courageous, because by their example we learn how\nwe should battle for triumph in moral struggles; and of these\nalone we would here speak.\n\nMany of our contemporaries think they have done their duty if\nthey have abused their own time, praised the past, and predicted\na sombre future unable to confer upon us any blessings. It is so\nsweet to live in abstract contemplation of heroes or epochs of\nwhich inexorable time has deprived us; it is so easy to make an\napology for them without combating the living men and the\nconcrete ideas which in real history form the shadows to these\nbrilliant pictures; it is so easy to choose from former ages\nmodels of virtue, of civil courage and faith, without\npreoccupying ourselves with obstacles that these just people,\nthese citizens, these saints have conquered, and that our\nindifference, our idleness, our weakness, or our cowardice\nhinders us from looking fairly in the face, through the medium in\nwhich we live. We do not perceive often enough that the vulgar\nexpression of the \"good old time,\" which has been forbidden in\nevery age, is in the moral history of a people a truly vicious\ncircle. Indeed, we cannot pretend that every age is worth only so\nmuch, and, interpreting badly the proverb, \"Man proposes, but God\ndisposes,\" go to sleep in the false historical security called\nfatalism. It is legitimate to have our preferences for such and\nsuch an epoch, and it is not always difficult to give good\nreasons for them; but between these rational preferences and an\nunjustifiable disdain for our own time, there is an abyss.\n\n{381}\n\nTo act with our own epoch we must love it; then we work with\nardor and confidence for its reform. Who loves well, chastises\nwell. I wish to show that our age merits to be loved as well as\nany other that has preceded it; and I will demonstrate this\nclearly by a moral, religious, and political sketch of the\nChristian age the most justly praised--the thirteenth. To\ncircumscribe this vast subject as much as possible, I will speak\nof Italy alone; of that Italy which then, as now, was the object\nof the most audacious attacks and the theatre of the most\ninstructive resistance. I will first tell what was the condition\nof the \"Christian republic\" at the end of the twelfth century.\nThen I will show the radiant transformation of society in the\nthirteenth century while determining its general causes, and\nfinish by comparing this heroic age with our own.\n\n I.\n\nFor most of Belgium, the history of civilization commences only\nwith the day when General Dumouriez \"brought them liberty at the\npoint of the bayonet.\" Before the French revolution, it was the\ncommon error that the era of political and religious revolution\nonly opened with the sixteenth century, and such error is common\nto-day. Yet Gnosticism, Manicheism, Arianism, and Greek schism\nhave produced in Christian Europe commotions much greater and\nmore fatal than those of which the predictions of Martin Luther\nhave been the occasion, and of which the Protestant princes have\nso abundantly reaped the fruits. From the tenth to the thirteenth\ncentury, the Catholic Church suffered on the part of the\nstate--of the empire, as they then termed it--assaults in\ncomparison to which the thirty years' war and the revolutions\nfomented by the _statolatres_ of the thirteenth century were\nonly children's play.\n\nNever was the spirit of sectarianism more active than in the\ntwelfth century. The disguised partisans of Gnosticism,\nManicheism, or Arianism, these habitual forms of\nantichristianism, were spread all over civilized Europe under the\nmost diverse names: _Cathares, Pauliciens, Petrobrusiens,\nTanchelmites, Henriciens, Bogomiles, Apostoliques, Endistes,\nArnoldistes, Circonsis, Passagieres, Publicains, Vaudois Bons\nHommes_, etc., etc. These names appear strange, but they are\nnot more so than their actual partisans: socialists,\nfree-thinkers, solid men, Fourierists, Saint Simoniens, etc.\n\nAnd do not suppose that these sects, or these schools, as they\nare called nowadays, confined themselves to the innocent\npublication of their programme, and simply distributed a few\npartisans through anonymous societies, among the councils of\nadministration, or in the senates of empires.\n\nThe Ambrosien church was during a certain time directed by the\nNicolite priests of Milan, and supported violently by the emperor\nand by the government. Our compatriot, Dankelm, a deist a little\nsore, who preached against the corruptions of the monks, their\nartifices, the tithes and mortmain, was head of an organized\nchurch at Bruges, and also at Anvers. If the Vaudois had, like\nLuther, obtained the support of the corrupted and sensual\nbishops, and the ambitious princes so powerful and rapacious,\ntheir church would have taken root in a great part of Europe\nduring the twelfth century; it has endured longer than will any\nProtestant church; for it still existed in the last century, and\nI believe there are still some communities in Holland and Suabia.\n\n{382}\n\nAll these sects agreed on one point, their hatred of the Church\nof Rome. M. Renan, in his last book, _Questions\nContemporains_, writing with a haughty moderation almost\ndisdainful, feared for the Catholic Church of the nineteenth\ncentury a grand schism resulting in the simultaneous election of\ntwo popes. Such an apprehension denotes in this writer a defect\nof memory or a strange want of perspicacity; for in the church,\nanti-popes were counted by dozens, and in the twelfth century,\nthis kind of schism appeared several times. The competitors or\nanti-popes of Calixtus II., (1119-1124,) of Innocent II.,\n(1130-1143,) and of Alexander III., (1159-1181,) were sustained\nby emperors whose material power had but little weight in the\nthen known world. Under Innocent II., the schism lasted only\neight years. Sixty years later, Innocent III. governed Europe.\n\nHeresies and schisms are always accompanied by social\nrevolutions. However, the irreligious antagonism of capital and\nlabor, which is one of the causes of modern socialism, did not\nexist in the twelfth century under the learned and redoubtable\nform of our day. The reason is a simple one, and we should be\nproud of our age: labor, of which Christianity has made a duty,\nhad not then in political society the great and legitimate\nimportance it has now. The problem of pauperism had never been\nsolved politically except in densely populated countries, and in\nthe twelfth century the population of Europe was relatively less\nconsiderable. Hatred of capital only manifested itself among the\nidle, among certain sects, (the Cathares, the Frerots, the\nApostoliques, the Begghards, the Lollards, etc.,) and\nparticularly in \"the wars of the castle and the hut;\" violent\nwars which were not only carried on by poor devils hardened by\npassions, but by the _ch\u00e2telains_, (governors or keepers,)\nthieves only distinguishable from the others by new titles given\nthem through euphemism. This category of men was then more\nnumerous than in our time. We respect a mill, but we steal a\nprovince. Then they took the province and the mill also.\n\nGreat luxury existed in all the towns of Italy. Money was a\ncourted power. The bankers' families became the source of\ndynasties.\n\nA portion of the secular clergy lived in the relaxation of\ndiscipline, and even morals. Neither the energy of the great\nHildebrand, nor the activity of the admirable Alexander III., the\nfriend of the Lombard communities, had been powerful enough to\ncompletely reform the regular clergy. Neither in the fifteenth\nnor in the eighteenth century were more scandals seen than those\nwhich disheartened the great St. Bernard. \"Oh! for the power to\nsee again, before my death,\" wrote he to the pope, Eugene III.,\n\"those happy days of the church when the apostles cast their nets\nfor souls, and not for gold.\" This Pope Eugene was not permitted\nto die at Rome. The Eternal City was in the hands of the\nGaribaldians of the time, the Mazzini of whom was named Arnold, a\nclerk of Brescia, of austere manners and quick-witted oratory.\nAfter having studied philosophy in Paris under the cold and\nlicentious Abelard, Arnold commenced to traverse the Lombard\ncities. Imposing upon himself a mission altogether political, he\npretended not to wish to injure the Catholic faith.\n\n{383}\n\n\"Detractor of clergymen and bishops, persecutor of monks, he\nreserved,\" said a chronicler of the time, \"all his flattery for\nthe laity. He sustained the theory of no salvation for clergymen\npossessing lands, for bishops disposing of regal rights, or monks\nowning valuables; that all these things belonged to the state,\nand it alone should dispose of them in favor of the laity. It is\nsaid also that he did not reason sanely on the eucharist and the\nbaptism of infants.\" His partisans, called _politicians_,\ncalled him to Rome, where he had resolved to establish a new\ngovernment. Forced to fly from this city after the second council\nof Lateran, he wandered for several years in France, in Germany,\nand in Switzerland, promulgating everywhere the doctrines which\nhe applied to his Italian friends. During an insurrection, the\npope, Lucius II., was killed by a blow from a stone, (to-day they\nonly kill ministers,) and his successor, Eugene III., took refuge\nin Viterbo, and afterward in France. Arnold was in Switzerland\nwith 2000 soldiers collected there; the multitude having granted\nhim the dictatorship, he proclaimed the fall of the temporal\npower of the popes, and the re-establishment of the Roman\nrepublic; then, carried away by the logic of his ideas rather\nthan by his situation, he called to Rome the emperor, the monarch\nof Italy, in order that he would deign to restore to the empire\nthe lustre it had under Justinian. Demagogues naturally advocate\nCaesarism.\n\nThe emperors rushed to Rome. Arnold and his government were\nthrown into the Tiber. Then recommenced, under a new form, the\nquarrel between the priesthood and the empire, existing still in\nEurope. Never had the pride of the depositaries of the civil\npower, the absolutism of the god state, and the tyranny of the\nsupreme authority, representatives more complete, and in certain\nrespects more sympathetic, than the emperors of the house of\nHohenstaufen. How many laws vaunted by certain schools of our day\nof progress have been dressed in the signature of these fierce\nSonabes, then abrogated as despotic and contrary to the liberty\nand dignity of citizens.\n\nThe Staufen were fanatics in law when it was a question of their\nauthority. Frederic I. had for his witnesses the four famous\ndoctors of Bologna, who, with Irnerius, their professor, were\nmasters of the study of modern law. It was these four doctors\nwho, by the aid of texts and juridical interpretations, were\nready to impose on the Lombard cities represented at the diet of\nRoncaglia the chains which the entire material power of the\nGerman emperors had never been able to forge. It was the\nchancellor of Frederic II., Pierre Des Vignes, who is the author\nof the _Recueil des Lois de Sidle_, the first code of\ndespotism of modern times.\n\nIn few words, then, we have here the state of Europe, in its most\ncivilized centre, in the second half of the twelfth century. The\ntruth was at once attacked in church and state, with the view of\ncorrupting both; in the church, with an aim at her authority; in\nthe state, to banish liberty.\n\n\n II.\n\nIt is the glory of the epoch which begins with the Lombard League\nand the pontificate of the English Mendicant, Adrian IV., to have\nre-established a moral equilibrium in Christian society, and to\nhave saved Europe from a lethargy similar to that in which a\nCaesaro-papacy has plunged the East.\n\n{384}\n\nThat which distinguished the civilizing genius of this epoch was\na moral vigor, a consequence of the intimate union existing\nbetween the citizen and the Christian, between the scholar and\nthe theologian; I say union, not confusion. In the _Cid_ of\nGuillaume de Castro, from which P. Corneille has borrowed\nlargely, there is a scene in which the hero seated at table\nexhorts his companions to render homage to the patron of Spain,\n\"a chevalier himself, and with a large rosary suspended to his\nsword.\" A leper enters and asks charity. The warriors take\nflight. Alone the Cid remains, and forces him to sit on his cloak\nand eat with him from his own plate. The repast finished, the\nmendicant blessed the Cid, and betrays himself as Lazarus, who\nhas come to reveal his future destiny. The sword, which for the\nchevalier is the sign of the citizen, serves to sustain the\nrosary, the emblem of the Christian.\n\nIn the _Trait\u00e9 de l'Office du Podest\u00e0_, extract of Book III.\nof the _Tresor_ of Brunetto Latini, the master of Dante, we\nfind in old French the exposition of the public law as understood\nby the communicants of that time. The podesta of our time could\nlearn from it much that is useful and necessary to know. This,\nfor example, is the beginning of the chapter where the author\ntreats of things \"that gentlemen should know and teach to those\nover whom they are placed\":\n\n \"_Remember then, thou who governest a city, from whence comes\n the power to possess thy seignory. Remember thou the law and\n the commandments, and never forget God and his saints, but\n often_ approach the altar and pray God for thee and thy\n subjects; for David and the prophets say, 'God guardeth the\n city and every thing that laboreth within it.' Honor the pastor\n of pastors of the holy Church; for God says, 'He who receiveth\n thee receiveth me.' Be religious, and evidence the true faith;\n for nothing is more beautiful to the prince of the earth than\n true faith and right belief: for it is written, 'When the just\n king is on his throne, no harm can befall him.' Guard the\n churches, the houses of God, take care of widowed women and\n orphans; for it is written, 'Be defenders of orphans and\n widows.' Defend the poor against the wickedness of power; for\n thou hast in thy care the great, the small, and the mean.\n _Such things become thee from the beginning, etc._\"\n\nHave you observed the character of the figures seen on the tombs\nof this period? The dead are lying on their backs, with hands\nclasped; they do not bear the impress of death; they seem to\nsleep and await the resurrection. Their attitude is simple,\nnaturally humble, but at the same time naturally proud. They are\narmed; it is understood that they have fought the battle of life,\nand in passing to the other shore have vanquished the enemy of\nthe human race with the arms of prayer. The citizen and the\nChristian are so blended that it is impossible to distinguish\nthem; and this harmonious whole presents an appearance at once\nhumble and martial, tender and manly, which fills one with\nrespect without imposing fear.\n\nSuch is the character of the epoch I would depict while\nportraying the causes of its grandeur. Let it be remarked,\nhowever, I do not seek to make an apology for the thirteenth\ncentury or the middle ages. My ideal is in the future, not in the\npast. But the past being the mirror of the future, I love to\nregard in the thirteenth century the memorable examples of what\ncould be done by the citizen under the influence of Christian\nfaith and reason in the midst of a society agitated and upset by\nheresy, schism, socialism, the power of demagogues, and\nCaesarism.\n\n{385}\n\nI suppose that the son of a rich merchant of Anvers, transported\nby that enthusiasm for good which is the fruit of a grace divine,\nrenounces suddenly the luxury of a paternal home, and a\ndissipated and idle life, which is too often the consequence of a\nbad education, pampered by fortune. After having trained his soul\nby fasting and prayer, and the contemplation of the divine\nattributes toward the supernatural regions of life, he robes\nhimself voluntarily as a poor man and traverses the industrial\ncentres of the country, communicating to his equals the ardent\nfaith which escapes from his mouth in luminous characters. At\nGand, at Charleroi, at Liege, some young men become his\nfollowers, and between them form an association for the service\nof the humble, the weak, the poor, the miserable. Their mission\nis to go about in the dress of workmen, living as they do, and\npreaching from the steps of buildings, at the cross-roads, and in\nthe fields. To the rich, the obligation of working for and\nbefriending the poor; to the poor, the duties of sufferance and\nrespect; to all the world, the love of God and the church which\nhe has made the depositary of his graces. What might not be\naccomplished by such missionaries of love, labor, science, and\npeace? What would not be their influence and their authority?\n\nAgain, let me suppose the son of a rich English lord renouncing\nthe ostentation, the privileges and errors of his family and\nreligion, and, seized with an irresistible love for his neighbor\nand humanity, seeking his old friends of Eton and Oxford,\ncommunicating to them the flame of his convictions, and then\nproposing to them to travel through England, Europe, the world,\nand propagate Christianity; arguing everywhere with the\nadversaries of the church; in the universities, in the\npublic-houses, before the door of the palace, or in the\njunk-shops and the huts; preaching justice to the English, to the\nIrish respect for the laws, to all the world peace, science,\nliberty; opening here a school, there a hospital, and drawing\nafter him his contemporaries, by the authority of faith, the\npower of science, the contagion of devotion. If you can imagine\nthe results obtained by the O'Connells, the Fathers Mathews, and\nthe Newmans, you will form a feeble idea of a revolution that\ncould produce a phalanx of men of such vigorous temperament.\n\nThis son of the wealthy merchant, and this child of an\nillustrious house, existed in the beginning of the thirteenth\ncentury. \"The one,\" said Dante, \"was surrounded by all the\n_\u00e9clat_ of the seraphim, and the other walked in wisdom and\nsanctity in the splendor of the cherubim.\"\n\nThe history of the life and works of these two extraordinary men\ncontains most precious teachings, the deep import of which often\nescapes us, because given to us in such a common way, without\nexplaining their actual life. This seraphim (Saint Francis) and\nthis cherubim (Saint Dominic) governed the entire thirteenth\ncentury by the extraordinary movement they impressed on souls,\nand by the moral conquests, political, scientific, literary, and\nartistic, with which their disciples enriched humanity.\n\nThe Mendicant friars, as they were later called, were not only\ncloistered religious, giving themselves solely to a contemplative\nlife, and only leaving their convents for the church; they were\ncitizens in every acceptation of the word, but vowed to no\nambitions, mingling with their contemporaries, living in the\nforum, and mounting the tribune of the popular assemblies as well\nas the pulpits of the universities. When this tribune or pulpit\nwas forbidden them, they improvised one of their own, and made\nappeals to the people who wished to hear the well-known voices,\nsimple, disinterested, loving, and therefore eloquent.\n\n{386}\n\nThus the Franciscans penetrated even into China, \"on the horse of\nSt. Francis\"--that is, on foot--and traversing, wonderful as it\nmay appear, the whole continent of Asia. They founded a Christian\ncolony at Pekin, where the ships of France and England could only\nenter with noise of cannon--a result assuredly more imposing but\nnot half so certain. During the Renaissance, when the first\nHolland vessels arrived at Greenland, they found there a convent\nof Dominicans.\n\nIn the thirteenth century, there were, even in civilized Europe,\nmore Chinese and Laplanders than would be supposed. To convert\nthem, the Franciscans and Dominicans applied themselves\nassiduously, vanquishing them by science, and convincing them by\ncharity.\n\nI understand the word science in its old acceptation; a deep\nrational research into the first principles of things and the\norigin of our knowledge. At no epoch of history, I dare to say,\nhas this research been carried on by more passionate lovers, by\nmore powerful intelligences, by more magnanimous hearts, than the\nMendicant monks of the thirteenth century. To prove this, let me\nonly mention four names.\n\nThe first in date is the Count de Bollstaedt, first Bishop of\nRatisbon, then Dominican; a professor of Cologne, and a perfect\nencyclopedia; his gigantic works replete with all the ideas of\nhis time, and the initiator of German learning.\n\nThis scientific knowledge was only surpassed by that of his pupil\nand companion, the Count d'Aquin, descendant of Staufen on his\nmother's side, and called by his comrades \"the ox of Sicily,\" by\nthe learned world \"the angel of the schools,\" and by the church\nSaint Thomas. His principal theological work (_Summa Totius\nTheologiae Tripartita_) remained unfinished with the grand\ncathedrals of the middle ages; but what we know of this and the\nother works of this prodigious man will suffice to place him in\nthe rank of the greatest geniuses that have appeared on the\nearth.\n\nHowever he himself emulated in science the genius of his friend,\nthe _seraphic doctor_, Jean de Fidanza, of Tuscany,\nprofessor in the University of Paris, an admirable man, of whom\nhis master, the English Franciscan, Alexander Hales, said:\n\"_Verus Israelita in quo Adam non peccasse videtur_.\" When\nthey brought him the cardinal's hat, Saint Bonaventura was\noccupied in placing the plates on the table of his convent. He\ndied at the general council at Lyons, (1274,) just at the moment\nwhen he was endeavoring to reunite the Greek to the Roman Church.\n\nThe fourth of these great doctors, who truly indoctrinated\nscience, is the great English Franciscan, _the admirable\ndoctor_, Roger Bacon, philologist and naturalist, who\npredicted steam navigation and railroads. He is also supposed to\nhave invented the telescope, and foreseen the discovery of\nAmerica. The Protestants of the sixteenth century, who pretended\nto shed light on the world, unfortunately burnt the convent that\nheld the manuscripts of this precursor of natural science.\n\nA French writer, who does himself honor in protecting the church\nwith his valiant pen as others have done with their swords, M. L.\nVeuillot, and of whom it may be said, \"brave as his pen,\" says\nsomewhere that the thirteenth century has produced such great\nthings in the moral order that Saint Thomas had been able to\nbuild up the colossus styled _La Somme_; yet during this\nepoch people went on foot, and time was not lost running over the\nworld on railroads.\n{387}\nI am persuaded the contemporaries of Roger Bacon would not have\napproved of this apologetic argument; for if they had known the\ngreat discoveries of our day, of what works would not such\nvigorous and universal minds have been capable? If such men,\nconsumed by activity, by love of science and humanity, ran from\nNaples to Oxford, from Bologna to Paris, professing, preaching,\nwriting, administering the sacraments, directing their\ncommunities, or working with the pope and the bishops in the\ngovernment of the church; if such men have produced such great\nthings on foot, what would they not have undertaken with\nrailroads at their disposal? To-day there come from Italy but few\nphilosophers measurable with the Count d'Aquin and Jean de\nFidanza; but, to make amends, how easy to convoke an oecumenical\ncouncil and send zouaves to Rome!\n\nThe observation I have just made is not a digression, for it\ntends to demonstrate the profoundly practical aim of science in\nthe thirteenth century. These professors of Paris, Cologne, and\nOxford did not content themselves with teaching their doctrines\nfrom the privileged benches of a university to a few cultivated,\ndelicate, and critical minds. They did not style themselves\nphilosophers, as the wise men by profession, who in the last\ncentury wished thus to distinguish Christians. They practised\ntheir doctrines, and their teaching was democratic, (pardon the\nso much abused expression,) not only on account of their\nprinciples but in regard to the public whom they addressed. They\ncalled all the world to the feet of their pulpits, and after\ndistributing the bread of faith and science, that of charity was\nnot wanting. \"Thus,\" said Ozanam, \"the poor knew and blessed\ntheir names. And even to-day, after six hundred years, the\ninhabitants of Paris bend the knee before the altars of \"the\nangel of the schools,\" and the workmen of Lyons are honored in\ncarrying once a year, on their robust shoulders, the triumphant\nremains of the \"seraphic doctor.\" [Footnote 133] Can we believe\nthat six centuries hence they will do the same for the ashes of\nKant, Fichte, or Hegel?\n\n [Footnote 133: _Dante et la Philosophie Catholique_,\n p. i. ch. ii. p. 88.]\n\nThis enthusiasm of holy people for science was not entirely the\nfruit of the doctrines of St. Francis and St. Dominic, or of the\npersonal tendencies of their disciples. When the zeal for such\nsubjects weakened, the church tried to revive the flame. Let us\nrecall the bull of 1254, published by Innocent IV., for the\nre-establishment of philosophical studies: \"A deplorable rumor,\nspread abroad and repeated from mouth to mouth, has reached our\nears, and deeply afflicts us. It is said that the many aspirants\nfor the priesthood, abandoning, repudiating even, philosophical\nstudies, and consequently the teachings of theology, have sought\nthe different schools to explain the civil laws. Sarah then is\nthe slave, and Hagar has become mistress. We have tried to find a\nremedy for this unexpected disorder. We would bring back minds to\nthe study of theology, which is the science of salvation, or at\nleast to philosophical studies, in which it is true the tenderest\nemotions of piety are not met with, but where the soul discovers\nthe first lights of eternal truth, and frees itself from the\nmiserable preoccupations of cupidity--the root of all evil, and a\nspecies of idolatry.\n{388}\nTherefore we decide by these presents, that in future no\nprofessor of jurisprudence, no lawyer, whatever may be his rank\nor the renown he may enjoy in the practice of law, can pretend to\nany prebend, honor, or ecclesiastical dignity, nor even to an\ninferior benefice, if he has not given proofs of requisite\ncapacity in the faculty of arts, and if he is not recommended by\nthe innocence of his life and the purity of his manners.\"\n\nSuch admirable teaching could not remain barren in a Christian\nsociety. In 1256, just as Pope Alexander IV. had declared all the\nserfs emancipated who would abandon the cause of _Ezelin le\nF\u00e9roce_, the authorities of Bologna proceeded to the general\nenfranchisement of those of their territory. The city was not\ncontented to set free only its own serfs; it extended the benefit\nto those belonging to private masters, indemnifying the\nproprietors, as some modern states have done in the slavery of\nthe blacks: the middle age was distinguished always for its\nrespect for acquired rights. The state paid ten livres for every\nserf over fourteen, eight livres for those below that age. The\nfreedmen were bound to pay to the state some moderate tax in\ncereals. The suggester of this generous measure was Bonacursio de\nSorresina, _capitano del popolo_, elected podesta the\nfollowing year. He placed the names of all the enfranchised on a\nregister called the _Paradise of Joy_. \"An all-powerful\nGod,\" said he in the introduction to this register, \"created man\nfree; original sin poisoned him; from immortal he became mortal,\nfrom incorruptible corruptible, from free the slave of hell. He\nsent for man's redemption his only Son, begotten by him from all\neternity. It is then just and equitable that man saved and freed\nby God should not stagnate in servitude, where human laws have\nprecipitated him; that he should be set free. By these\nconsiderations, Bologna, which has always fought for public\nliberty, which recalls the past and weighs the future, has for\nthe glory of our Lord Jesus Christ redeemed all the serfs of its\nterritory, and proclaimed, for the future, slavery will be no\nmore tolerated. A little leaven leavens the whole lump; the\npresence of one degraded being dishonors society.\"\n\nIt is right to observe that this noble language is the\nreproduction, often textual, of the well-known words of the holy\nPope Gregory I., the Great, against the slavery of the\nAnglo-Saxons.\n\nTen years afterward Bela, king of Hungary, having rejected a\nbishop because he was born a serf, the pope wrote him that \"the\nwill of man could not prescribe against nature, that has given\nliberty to the human race.\"\n\n\"It is a frequent error among men,\" said the Count d'Aquin, \"to\nbelieve themselves noble because they are the issue of noble\nfamilies. ... It is well not to have failed in examples of noble\nancestors; but it is far better to have adorned an humble birth\nwith great actions. ... I repeat, then, with Saint Jerome, that\nnothing appears to me worth envying in this pretended hereditary\nnobility, if the nobles themselves are not restrained in the\npaths of virtue by the shame of derogating from it. The true\nnobility is that of the soul, according to the words of the poet:\n\n 'Nobilitas sola est animum quae moribus ornat.'\" [Footnote 134]\n\n [Footnote 134: _De Eruditione Principum_.]\n\nA disciple of this great master, the B. Egide Colonna, cardinal\narchbishop of Bourges, wrote in his book, _De Regimine\nPrincipum:_ \"Society cannot attain to the supreme end assigned\nit without a combination of three means--virtue, light, and\nexterior well-being. A prince should, then, in his kingdom first\nwatch with wise solicitude over the culture of letters, in order\nto multiply the number of the learned and skilful.\n\n [Footnote 135 (no reference; probably\n _De Regimine Principum_): Liv. iii. p. 2, c. viii.]\n\n{389}\n\nFor where science flourishes, and the sources of study spring up,\nsooner or later instruction is disseminated among the crowd. So,\nto dissipate the shadows of ignorance which shamefully envelop\nthe face of royalty, the king should encourage letters by a\nfavorable attention. Still more, if he refuses the necessary\nencouragement, and does not wish his subjects instructed, he\nceases to be a king--he becomes a tyrant.\"\n\nTo finish the picture of the ideas of this time, let us quote\nagain these words of a sermon of the gentle and seraphic\nBonaventura: \"We find today great scandals in governments; for\nwhile an inexperienced pilot would not be placed on a ship to\nmanage the rudder, we put at the head of nations those who ignore\nthe art of governing them. When the right of succession places\nchildren on a throne, woe to empires!\"\n\nThe doctrines of the thirteenth century on the formation of\npublic power, on the duties of supreme authority, on the rights\nof people, on sedition, etc., are so rigorous that they appear\nbold, even in our time, when the defect is not precisely an\nexcess of reserve and respect. Truth alone can free the human\nmind from every prejudice, develop character, and inspire a\nlanguage at once so proud and so simple. What reflections it\nprovokes when one has listened to the magnificent platitudes of\nso many men of our time, who believe they think freely because\nthey are not Christians.\n\nWhen Innocent IV., Celestin IV., St. Thomas, the B. Egide\nColonna, and St. Bonaventura spoke thus, the Caesarism of the\nmiddle ages was decidedly vanquished for several centuries. This\nis one of the grandest facts of history since the incarnation of\nthe Word.\n\nThe emperors of the house of Swabia, assuming with greater power\nand more science the despotic plans of the Saxon emperors, had\nthe monstrous pretension to realize to the letter these texts of\n_The Digest_: \"The will of the prince is law,\" (Ulp.;) \"The\nprince is above all laws,\" (Paul.) By virtue of these texts the\nprince commanding would have been the absolute sovereign of the\nworld, the proprietor of the Christian universe, and not only of\nthe royalties of the earth, but also of private property.\nInterpreters taught without blushing the Caesarian theory of the\n_dominium mundi_. _Le Recueil des Lois_ of Sicily,\nrevised by Pierre de Vigne for Frederic II., and promulgated by\nthis autocrat in the kingdom of Naples, is a model of this\nabominable legislation that progressists of our day sometimes\ndream of restoring.\n\nThe Roman Church alone resisted these false principles, these\nmonstrous politics, and, thanks be to God, she triumphed.\n\nThe ruler of modern times has become what he was in the age of\npretorian law, corrupted by the Caesarian jurors of the empire,\nof the middle ages, and particularly the Renaissance, that is to\nsay, _the_ people, who by a so-called \"royal law\" would have\nrelinquished their rights into the hands of the Roman emperors.\nBut if the sovereign people could not but be a majority purely\nnumerical, arrogating in its turn the pretended laws of Caesar,\nthe struggles of the middle age between the clergy and the empire\nwould certainly be renewed.\n\nThis indissoluble alliance between Christian truth and civil\nliberty is one of the most striking facts to those who study\nhistory without prejudice; one of the best apologetic arguments I\nknow.\n{390}\nIn the east, Caesarism has only been able to succeed through the\ncorruption of the ecclesiastical hierarchy and through schism;\nand we know only too well what has become of the countries where\nHomer sang, where Plato wrote, and where Saint Gregory of\nNazianzen and St. Basil preached. Europe has had to suffer\nfrequently from an excess of power in individuals in the church;\nbut they must not be confounded with the church itself, which has\nintroduced into the world the distinction of two powers: this\nsalutary distinction was not known of old, and is only menaced in\nour day by rationalism in the state.\n\nThe people have understood this august _r\u00f4le_ of the church,\nand do not cease to invoke with the poet: \"Hail, mighty parent.\"\nIn the midst of ruin accumulated by the ambition of princes, the\ncorruption of governments, human passions, or time that has no\nrespect for truth, there remains today nothing but the good old\npope, and young nations ask the benediction of the aged man. In\nmodern democracies there will soon exist but one historical\ninstitution, the papacy. The old religions of paganism have left\nus but cold and gigantic pyramids of stone inclosing the ashes of\ntheir priests. Christianity, on the contrary, has transmitted us\nthe living stone of the church, which will outlive the dust of\nages.\n\nIn all these struggles against heresies, schism, materialism,\nCaesarism, the Roman Church had from the tenth to the thirteenth\ncentury its allies, the communes, who were the masses of those\ndays. Civil liberty was, so to say, the fruit of the preachings\nof the church. It was from this epoch we date _the Mass against\ntyrants_, which can be found in the old missals. It was at the\nend of the twelfth and the beginning of the thirteenth centuries,\nunder the pontificates of Alexander III. and Innocent III., two\nof the noblest successors of St. Peter, that this alliance, so\nnatural, so necessary, between the church that represents the\nhuman conscience, and the communes who represent the liberty and\nindependence of the citizen, produced the most happy and\nconsiderable results. In 1183 was signed _the peace of\nConstance_, which assured definitively the liberty of the\nLombard people. In the final clause of the petition of the\ncitizens of Plaisance, the preliminary of this celebrated peace,\nthe deputies of the Lombard League had expressly stipulated \"that\nit would be permitted to the cities of the society to remain\nalways in unity with the church.\" The great charter of the\nliberties of England dates from 1215. At the head of the\nsignatures of this memorable act for the English people is found,\nfor the church and for liberty, a disciple of the pope, the\nlearned Cardinal Stephen Langton, whose statue has recently been\nintroduced into Westminster Palace, where it will be a\nsignificant witness of the past, and of the salutary breath which\nis passing to-day over old England. And not only in England, but\nin Spain and Hungary, had the church surrounded the cradle of\nmodern representative rule with its maternal cares, by its\ncelebrated \"Golden Bull\" establishing the law of peoples and\ncommunities on the basis which to-day it enjoys in this\n_apostolical kingdom_.\n\nBut in the Italian cities particularly is best observed the\nfecundity of this salutary alliance between the sentiments of the\ncitizen and those of the Christian.\n\n{391}\n\nI have spoken of the scientific and religious _r\u00f4le_ of the\nMendicant friars; it would be better to call them citizen-monks.\nAt Bologna, it was one of them who fulfilled the function of\n_inspector-general_ to the people. _Ezelin le F\u00e9roce_,\ntyrant of the marshes of Verona, and the terror of the Lombard\ncities, was only afraid of the Franciscans, especially Saint\nAntony of Padua.\n\nAfter ten years of penitence, Saint Francis, having prayed and\nwatched for forty nights, ordered Brother Leonard to take a pen\nand write what he should dictate; and this angelic man, entranced\nby the ravishments of divine love, improvised the following\nbeautiful canticle:\n\n \"Most high, most powerful and gracious\n Lord, to thee belong praise, glory, and\n every blessing. All is due to thee; and\n thy creatures are not worthy so much as to\n call thy name.\n\n \"Praised be God my Lord for all creatures,\n and for our brother the sun, who gives\n us the day and the light. Beautiful and\n radiating in all his splendor, he does homage\n to thee, O my God!\n\n \"And praised be thou, my Lord, for our\n sister the moon, and for the stars. Thou\n hast formed them in the heavens, clear and\n beautiful.\n\n \"Praised be thou, my God, for my brother\n the wind, for the air and the clouds, and for\n good and bad weather, whatever it may be!\n for by these thou sustainest thy creatures.\n\n \"Praised be my Lord for our sister the\n water, which is so useful, humble, precious,\n and chaste.\n\n \"Praised be thou, my God, for our brother\n the fire! By him, thou illuminest the night;\n beautiful and pleasant to see, untamable\n and strong.\n\n \"Praised be my God for our mother the\n earth, which sustains us, nourishes us, and\n produces every sort of fruit, of various flowers,\n and herbs!\"\n\nA few days after this admirable scene, there occurred between the\nBishop of Assisi and the magistrates of the people one of those\nquarrels so frequent in the Italian cities of the thirteenth\ncentury. Saint Francis, distressed at such discord, added to his\ncanticle the following verse:\n\n \"Praised be thou, my Lord, for those who\n forgive for the love of thee, and who patiently\n bear infirmity and tribulation. Happy\n those who persevere in peace; for it is the\n Most High who will crown them at last.\"\n\nThen he ordered the minor brothers to hasten to the magistrates\nand go with them to the bishop, before whom they were to chant\nthe new verse of the canticle of the sun. The adversaries present\ncould not resist the chanting of the _mineurs_, and they\nwere reconciled.\n\nSince I have mentioned the canticle of the sun, one of the models\nof Franciscan poetry of this age, I cannot forego the pleasure of\nrelating the end of it. After the pacification of Assisi, Saint\nFrancis, who suffered terribly from his stigmata, had gone, to\nrecruit his health, to Foligno, where it was revealed to him he\nwould die in two years. He then composed the last verse:\n\n \"Be praised, my God, for our sister, corporal\n death, from which no man living may\n escape! Woe to him who dies in mortal\n sin! Happy he who at the hour of death\n is found conformable to thy most holy will!\n for death cannot injure him.\n\n \"Praise and bless my God, render him\n thanks, and serve him with great humility.\"\n\nThe spirit of party had become truly a moral malady in the\nItalian cities of the thirteenth century. If among my readers\nthere are those who abuse their own time because the spirit of\nparty condemns them to the struggle, I will tell them that in\nItaly, in the time of Saint Francis and Saint Louis, they saluted\neach other \"in Ghibelline style\" and cut their bread \"\u00e0 la\nGuelph,\" and for a trifle parties attacked each other in the\ncross-streets and in the public places. We have certainly\nprogressed since then.\n\n{392}\n\nIn 1233, the nobles and the people of Plaisance were in open\nwarfare; the Franciscan Leon, selected as arbiter, published a\nlaw, and divided equally all the employments of state between the\ntwo inimical factions; he exacted, besides, a confirmation of the\nsentence through the kiss of peace. In the same year the brother\nGerard, of the same order, reconciled the parties at Modena. At\nParma, he reformed the statutes of the people and recalled the\nproscriptions. In 1257, the Dominican Eberhard caused to be set\nat liberty the Guelphs imprisoned at Brescia. One of his\ncompanions had the same success at Parma. But the most\ninteresting example of the powerful influence of religion on\ncivil life was the mission of the brother John of Vicenza, in the\nLombard towns.\n\nInspired by an apostolic zeal, the aged Pope Gregory IX. charged\nthe Dominican, John of Vicenza, (_Fra Giovanni Chio_,) to go\npreach peace to the inimical factions, and re-establish\neverywhere among the people union and concord. Brother John,\nendowed with winning eloquence, commenced his mission at Bologna.\nHe obtained immense and unhoped-for success in the city where\nSaint Francis and Saint Anthony had already achieved\nextraordinary triumphs; nobles and people, professors and\nstudents, all laid down their enmities at the feet of the brother\npreacher; the magistrates handed him the statutes of the people,\nin order that he might correct all that could give rise to new\ndiscussions. The Paduans, informed that he was coming to them,\nwent to meet him, preceded by their magistrates and the\n_carroccio_, to Monselice, four or five miles from the city;\nBrother John, seated on the patriotic car, made a triumphal entry\namong the people; the success in Padua surpassed that of Bologna;\nthe people assembled at the Place de la Valle, applauded him with\njoy, and begged him to reform the statutes. The same triumphs at\nTrevise, Feltre, Belluna, and Vicenza. At Verona, Ezelin and the\nMontecchi promised him under oath to do everything the pope might\norder. The eloquent monk again visited such places as Camino,\nConegliano, Saint Boniface, Mantua, Brescia, preaching everywhere\nuniversal peace, reconciling factions, and setting prisoners at\nliberty. At last, he appointed the 28th of August, the feast of\nSaint Augustine, for a general assembly to be held on the plain\nof Pacquara, on the borders of the Adige, about three miles from\nVerona. On the day determined, the entire populations of Verona,\nMantua, Brescia, Padua, Vicenza, with their magistrates and\n_carroccio_, arrived at the appointed place; a multitude of\npeople from Trevise, Feltre, Venice, Ferrara, Modena, Reggio,\nParma, Bologna, and most of them barefooted in sign of penitence;\nthe bishops of Verona, Brescia, Mantua, Bologna, Modena, Reggio,\nTrevise, Vicenza, and Padua; the patriarch of Aquila; the\nmargrave of Este, Ezelin and Alberic de Romano, the Signers de\nCamino, and all of Venetia. Parisio de Cereta, a contemporary\nauthor, in his Veronese chronicle, enumerates his auditory at\nfour hundred thousand persons. The Dominican took for his text:\n\"My peace I give to you, my peace I leave to you.\" Never had\nChristians witnessed a more august spectacle. The enthusiasm was\ncarried even to excess. It was a delirium of peace and union.\nBrother John ordained, in the name of God and the church, a\ngeneral pacification, and devoted those who infringed upon it to\nexcommunication and eternal malediction. He proposed the marriage\nof Renaud, son of the margrave of Este, with Adelaide, daughter\nof Alberic of Romano, and obtained also from the brothers Romano\nthe promise they would sell to the town of Padua for fifteen\nhundred livres the possessions they had in the territory of this\ncity. The act embraced divers clauses, and contained promises of\npacification.\n\n{393}\n\nSixty years after the assassination of Pope Lucius II. by the\nArnoldites, the spiritual power of the papacy was, so to say,\nomnipotent in Italy, if not in the whole of Europe. And it is\nprecisely about this epoch that in proportion as the civil power\nof the Roman Church determined, limited, and fortified itself, in\nItaly the ecclesiastical principalities were extinguished; while\nfor centuries they have been maintained in other countries, less\nsubmissive to the Holy See. This fact will not astonish us, if we\nfollow with attention the progression of ideas propagated by\nChristianity, and taking such deep root in the thirteenth\ncentury.\n\nThus the sap of Christianity mounts in all the branches of this\nimmense tree called humanity, and produces abundant fruit. The\nGothic art is displayed while developing the Roman; the ogive\ncomes out from the arch by a natural elevation toward the summit\nor the roof. Elliptical forms, wiser and more perfect than\ncircular ones, (the circle is an ellipsis in which the focuses\nare blended,) transform the architecture, and give to the\nmonuments an apparent flight to heaven, just as the study of the\nellipsis in analytical geometry conducts to the infinite. The\naustere energy of St. Bernard had no time for art. He needed the\nscience of Roger Bacon and the poetry of St. Francis. The Roman\nbasilica gives place to the Gothic cathedral, and throws its\ngracious shadows on the mansions of the neighboring town. The\nwhole of Europe is covered with a vegetation of admirable\nmonuments, epic poems of stone--as the church of Assisi, the\ncathedral of Florence, the cathedral of Cologne--poetry of the\nhighest order, not for rich idlers, or delicate minds, but for\nthe people _en masse_. Art agrees with the epoch of which it\nis the emanation--it is for the people themselves. \"The more I\nsee of these Gothic monuments,\" wrote M. David, (d' Angers,) \"the\nmore I experience the happiness of reading these beautiful\nreligious pages so piously sculptured on the secular walls of the\nchurches. They were the archives of an ignorant people; it was\ntherefore necessary the handwriting should be legible. The saints\nsculptured in Gothic art have an expression of serenity and\ncalmness, full of confidence and faith. This evening, as I write,\nthe setting sun gilds the fa\u00e7ade of the cathedral of Amiens: the\ncalm faces of the saints in stone diffuse a radiant light.\"\n\nMysterious power of truth! M. David was attracted to it by art;\nM. Pugin was converted, it is said, by studying the cathedral of\nYork. In truth, there are few languages more perfect than that of\nthe symbolism, so deep and complete, of the thirteenth century.\n\"The men of the middle age,\" said one whose works and\nremembrances are very dear to me--\"the men of the middle age were\nnot satisfied to simply raise stone upon stone; these stones were\nto speak, and speak a language of painting, equally understood by\nrich and poor; heaven itself must be visible, and the angels and\nsaints remain present by their images, to console and preach to\nthe people. The vaults of the two basilicas of Assisi were\ncovered with a field of blue, strewn with stars of gold. On the\nwalls were displayed the mysteries of the two Testaments, and the\nlife of St. Francis formed the sequel to the book of divine\nrevelations.\n{394}\nBut, as if it were impossible to approach with impunity the\nmiraculous tomb, the painters who ornamented in fresco seemed\ninspired with a new spirit; they conceived an ideal more pure,\nmore animated, than the old Byzantine types which had had their\nday, but which for eight hundred years had continued to\ndegenerate. The basilica of Assisi became the cradle of a\nrenaissance in art, and evidenced its progress. There Guido of\nSienna and Giunta of Pisa detached themselves more and more from\nthe Greek masters whose aridity they softened and whose\nimmobility they shattered. Then came Cimabue. He represented all\nthe sacred writings in a series of paintings which decorated the\nprincipal part of the church, and which time has mutilated. But\nsix hundred years have not tarnished the splendor of the heads of\nChrist, of the Virgin, and of St. John, painted at the top of the\nvaults; nor the images of the four great doctors, where a\nByzantine majesty still carries with it an air of life and\nimmortal youth. At last Giotto appeared, and one of his works was\nthe triumph of St. Francis, painted in four compartments under\nthe vault which crowns the altar of the chapel. Nothing is more\ncelebrated than these beautiful frescoes; but I know nothing more\ntouching than one in which is figured the betrothal of the\nservant of God to holy poverty. Poverty, under the appearance of\na lady perfectly beautiful, but the face attenuated, the clothing\ntorn; a dog barks at her, two children throw stones at her, and\nput thorns in her way. She, however, calm and joyous, holds out\nher hand to St. Francis; Christ himself unites the two spouses;\nand in the midst of clouds appears the Eternal Father accompanied\nby angels, as if too much of heaven and earth could not be given\nto assist at the wedding of these two mendicants. Here, nothing\nsuggests the painting of the Grecian school; all is new, free,\nand inspired. Progress did not cease with the disciples of Giotto\nappointed to continue his work: Cavalini, Taddeo Gaddi, Puccio\nCapana. In the midst of the variety of their compositions, we\nrecognize the unity of the faith shed so lustrously through their\nworks. When one pauses before these chaste representations of the\nVirgin, the Annunciation, the Nativity, before the crucified\nChrist, with the saddened angels weeping around the cross, or\ncollecting in cups the divine blood, it would require a very\nhardened heart not to feel the tears flow, and not to bend the\nhumbled knee and strike the breast with the shepherds and poor\nwomen who pray at the feet of such images.\"\n\nAnd this is the art of the thirteenth century; it caused to weep\nunder the same vault, and caused to pray on the same slab with\npoor peasants, one of the purest-minded intelligences, one of the\nnoblest hearts of our time, one that the thirteenth century would\nhave styled \"the seraphic Ozanam.\"\n\nAnd let us again remark this attraction, at once logical and\nliving with facts produced by the germination of Christian\nthought in civil society. St. Francis and St. Dominic no longer\npreach as the disciples of St. Benedict to the few members of a\nmilitary oligarchy, or to a flock of serfs; they address\nthemselves to a civilized society, living in the midst of the\nbenefits of Christianity, without having to give an account of\nthe origin of these benefits; in the midst of a society\naggrandized by the progress of Christian equality, and still\ndesirous of enlargement. There is no longer a fierce Licambre,\nbut haughty jurists.\n{395}\nNo more cruel Anglo-Saxons, but emperors, elegant, educated,\npoetical, seductive, who hide their despotic projects under\ntitles the most pompous and the most fallacious. No more pagan\nkings martyrizing the Christian; but Catholic kings more or less\nsincere, who, in the name of social and state interests, seek to\ntorture consciences. There are no more lords whose brutality\nscandalizes the coarsest minds; but there are rich citizens,\nsoftened and blinded by selfishness, who weary under the\nChristian yoke, and who hide their sensualism under the interest\nthey profess for Caesar or the prince. It is, then, from the time\nof St. Francis the chanter of poverty, from the time of St.\nDominic the descendant of the Guzman, of the race of Cid, that is\nborn in Italy, by the side of the citizens, a new class which\ncompletes the political emancipation of the Christian people.\nAfter having grown up, the people disappeared under the\nRenaissance when Protestantism triumphed, not to appear again\nuntil modern times, in our own age, when the sap of Christianity\nforces the church to remount into the branches of the tree of\nwhich I spoke. Art has resented this moral revolution of the\nthirteenth century, and literature also. The grand writer whom I\nhave already quoted, I was going to say the poet who has founded\nthe society of St. Vincent de Paul, makes somewhere a reflection\nwhich has struck me forcibly. Have you remarked, with him, that\nthe church has put poetry into the choir, while she has banished\nreasoning into the pulpit--into the grand nave? I do not say\nreason, for true poetry is the chant of reason. Poetry that I\ncall real and practical, that which elevates the soul toward its\nend, which balances the sighs of humanity, and clothes itself in\nspoken or written form, rhythmical or not, the sentiment which\nattracts us toward the infinite, and which St. Francis designates\nlove, such poetry is simply prayer. A poet is naturally\nsacerdotal. He is really the _vates_ of antiquity. David and\nSolomon prayed with lyre in hand, and their prayers became the\nhymns of Christianity. Isaiah chanted the coming of the Messiah.\n\nSo in the thirteenth century, poetry was everywhere, a\nconsequence of the Christian sentiment, spread in every direction\nthrough the moral life. To Innocent III., who under the name of\nthe Count de Signa was considered one of the most learned men of\nhis time, is attributed the _Dies Ire_. He has composed\nother spiritual songs. St. Thomas has left us the _Pange\nLingua_. St. Francis is the chief of the poetic Franciscan\nschool, in which shone St. Bonaventura, St. Antony, and the\nblessed Jacopone de Todi, of whom every one knows the beautiful\nstanzas _Stabat Mater Dolorosa_, etc. Then comes Dante, who\ngoverns Christian ages as Homer did the olden time. And lastly in\nthe same age in Italy, at Vercelli, it is said, lived and died\nthe great unknown who has left us the most beautiful book from\nthe hand of man, _The Imitation_, the true poem of humanity\nredeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ. The fall, the redemption,\nthe grand drama of the moral history of the world, the battle of\nlife, the art of vanquishing passion and matter, the effort of\nman to reach his ideal on the wings of simplicity and purity\n--where are those things better chanted than in _The\nImitation?_\n\nThe thirteenth century, then, merits to be cited among the\ngrandest epochs of history. However, it would be a false idea to\nimagine society elevated to a high degree of perfection.\n{396}\nMany Christians of our day, charmed by the recital of the life\nand works of these great saints, and by the sight of the\nmagnificent monuments of the first era of ogival style, become\nalmost melancholy, and have a disposition to blame everything new\nin the world, and defy their contemporaries or future generations\neven to imitate the virtues of the age of Innocent III. I think\nthis tendency all wrong, and Christians who permit themselves to\nbe so carried away, lack firmness and faith; for Christianity\ncannot decay, and the more the saints of the past, the greater\nthe protectors of the church for the future. Besides, it is so\neasy to regard only the virtues of the thirteenth century, and\nignore the vices. We must remember St. Anthony was the neighbor\nand the contemporary of Ezelin the Ferocious, the type of the\ntyrant of the modern world. Frederick II. lived in the same age\nas St. Louis. _The Sicilian Code_ was revised fifty years\nafter the peace of Constance, at the same time as the _Magna\nCharta_ of England. St. Thomas d'Aquin and Roger Bacon are\ncontemporaries of the Albigenses. You cannot point out in our age\nan error or a calamity that has not its equal, or rather its\nprecursor, in the thirteenth century.\n\nCaesarism, vanquished in politics, was protected by the literary\nmen and the jurists. Dante in his old days wrote the Caesarian\ntreatise, _De Monarchico_. It was in the beginning of the\nfourteenth century, a hundred years after Innocent III., that the\npopes, chased from Rome and Italy, set out for the exile of\nAvignon, which lasted seventy-five years.\n\n\n III.\n\nA reasonable study of such grandeur and such fall, the review of\nwhich must demonstrate human liberty, should make us better know\nour own age, and love it the more.\n\nWe possess more elements of material prosperity and material\nprogress, and we jealously preserve the depository of all the\nmoral truths. We enjoy greater political security, and the\nsentiment of right is more general in our day than in any other.\n\nWhat we want, what has given an expansive power and grandeur and\nbeauty to the thirteenth century, is a moral unity in the general\ndirection of civil society. Our epoch feels its instinct, it\nseeks it, it desires it. People submit to the heaviest\nsacrifices, and agitate themselves to obtain what they call their\nunity. It is a false, factious, exterior unity, I know, but after\nall, it is unity.\n\nBut a true, living, and moral unity can only be found in efforts\nsuch as I have tried to depict; and moral unity, which should be\nthe only legitimate aim of a people, is not established by force,\nnor even by the splendor of industrial production, nor the\nattractions of an economical well-being. It will only grow as the\npeople liberally accept the direction of the Christian law.\nExpelled from political constitutions, I see this unity\nreconstitute itself in the masses. The neighboring democracies\nshould be Christian. Recently we have met a battalion of\ncrusaders, going to Rome, and coming from North America, which\nwill soon add to the number of its bishops as many as presided at\nthe Council of Nice. To manifest with new _\u00e9clat_ the fact\nof Christianity, and advance so salutary a movement, which will\nperhaps produce moral splendors unknown to the thirteenth\ncentury, we must arm ourselves, under the buckler of faith, with\nthe science and rights of the citizen, as did the great doctors\nof the thirteenth century.\n\n{397}\n\nThis struggle, I know, is to-day more difficult, but therefore\nmore meritorious, more glorious. Nowhere have we the support of\ngovernments. I do not complain--I state a fact; and perhaps this\nvery support is a defect because it has been so much abused. The\npurity of the moral struggle of the thirteenth century is\ntarnished by the religious persecutions. I know the adversaries\nof the church have exaggerated their intensity; but I know also\nthat never has the church, as a church, persecuted, nor given or\nproclaimed the right to persecute. Besides, we must not lose\nsight of the fact that the alliance of church and state was such\nthat a heresy was considered above everything a crime against the\nstate. For example, we are astonished to see a Saint Louis\ncondemn severely the blasphemers of God as state criminals; but\nwe do not consider it extraordinary nowadays to see the\nblasphemers of a sovereign or minister condemned to prison,\nexile, or transportation. It is necessary to remark that the\ngreater part of the sects of the middle ages proclaimed\nprinciples the realization of which would have consequences of\ngreat civil and political importance. I defy our contemporary\nsocieties, so proud of their religious tolerance, to support the\nworship of the Mormons, those pests of our age. Only Christian\nsocieties are strong enough to resist such currents of\ncorruption, to preserve their integrity, to endure and develop by\nthe side of such sects. Christians alone can be tolerant with\nimpunity, because tolerance for them is not a social necessity,\nbut a virtue. Only they can repeat with Saint Augustine: \"Let us\nconvert the heretics, but let them not be sacrificed.\" So when we\nthink of the universal blame of which St. Ambrose and St. Martin\nmade themselves interpreters, against the condemnation to death\nof the Priscillians, those Mormons of the fourteenth century, we\nare justly astonished at the rigors exercised in the thirteenth\ncentury against the Albigenses and other sectarians. To-day,\nthanks be to God, a religious persecution could not be possible\nin countries where the Catholic religion predominates.\nPersecutions are only prevalent among the Mussulmans of Asia\nMinor or the schismatics of Poland; and if the Protestants of\nIreland or the liberal anti-Catholics of the Continent have such\ntendencies, they devise some form which to them alone appears as\nprogress.\n\nFor the contest, then, we must act as citizens, and use the pen\nand the word, and without truce or relaxation. When St. Francis\nXavier made in the Indies his great and admirable spiritual\nconquests, destroyed by the Holland Protestants and the English,\nhe asked for reinforcements from the superior of his order.\n\"Especially,\" said he, \"send me from Belgium those robust and\nbroad-shouldered men.\" With such, this great saint believed\nhimself able to encounter every difficulty. Their race is not\nextinct, thank God; and it seems to me Europeans are easier\nconquered than Asiatics.\n\n ----------\n\n{398}\n\n\n Brittany: Its People and its Poems.\n\n\nProgress is the order of the day; the very watchword of the\nnineteenth century. Our times are possessed by an ever-active,\nrestless spirit. Here and there only, in this surging sea,\nsheltered havens are found, where the quiet waters can reflect\nthe fair forms and hues of heaven, floating above them in the\ndeep and far-off blue. Here and there, out of the beaten track of\nthe world's highways, lie rich and fertile retreats, among whose\nhills and fountains, woods and mossy stones, the spirit of the\npast, with music on her lips, poetry in her soul, and the cross\nclear and bright on her brow, still loves to dwell.\n\nIn scarcely another corner of Europe is the influence of this\nspirit so tenacious, so pervading, as in Brittany. Nor to those\namong us who may be descended from, or linked with, the original\ninhabitants of the British island, can Europe furnish many more\ninteresting studies than this granite promontory--the bulwark of\nFrance against the wild Atlantic--and the Celtic tribes there,\nwho guard, even to-day, their old Armorica from invasion of the\nnovelties of Paris in manners and in thought.\n\nBrittany preserves the same characteristic relations with regard\nto France as Wales, Ireland, and the Highlands of Scotland\npreserve toward England. Its geographical position, its\nmountains, and the sea, have continued to protect it in a great\ndegree from foreign influences. Indeed, this isolation is\nobservable throughout its history. Almost from the first, the\nBreton Celts were the sole occupants of their own corner of the\nearth. The Gauls, the original inhabitants of the country, were\noutnumbered and absorbed by the influx of British emigrants; who,\nof the same original stock with themselves, speedily became the\ndominant sept, and possessors of the country.\n\nThe first extensive emigration of the insular Britons from what\nis now Great Britain into Armorica, took place about the year\n383, by order of the tyrant Maximin. It was not, however,\nundertaken by compulsion, but was a willing adventure. The second\ntook place when they fled in great numbers from the Saxon\ndomination, after A.D. 450, when Ambrose and the great Arthur had\nfought so bravely and so long, in vain. This time they were\n_driven_ from their land, and as they crossed the sea to\nfind a home with their brethren in Armorica, they sorrowfully\nchanted the psalm which their Christian bards had translated into\ntheir native tongue, \"_Thou hast given us, O Lord, as sheep for\nthe slaughter; and thou hast scattered us among the nations._\"\nA terrible pestilence with which, about this time, various parts\nof Britain were visited, is said to have done more than anything\nelse toward confirming the sway of the Saxons in England, and\ndiminishing the old Britons to a mere remnant in the island. They\nthemselves regarded it as a sign that the kingdom was taken from\nthem, and given by God to their enemies. The emigrations\nthenceforward became so frequent and so numerous that the British\nisle was almost depopulated of its ancient inhabitants; and King\nIna, of Wessex, who was also Bretwalda, coming to the throne in\nA.D. 689, grieved to lose so many of his subjects, sent to\nentreat the emigrants to return.\n{399}\nAt that period, they more than equalled the indigenous population\nof Armorica, upon whom they had imposed their own laws and form\nof government. Thus, in the fifth century, Armorica was, like\nCambria, divided into small independent states: those of Vannes;\nKerne, or Cornouaille; Leon; and Tr\u00e9guier--all Celtic in\nlanguage, customs, and laws, and each division having its own\nbishop and its own chief. Among the chiefs, one often obtained a\npredominating power over the rest, with the title of\n_konan_, or crowned chief. Hence, all the earlier kings of\nArmorica of whom we hear in history, Meriadek, Gradlon, Budik,\nHouel, and others, were Britons from the Island. Their bards, who\nformed an essential part of every noble family among the\nCambrians, accompanied them into their adopted country. Of this\nnumber was Taliessin, \"the prince of the bards, the prophets, and\nthe Druids of the West.\" He took up his abode in the land of the\nVenetes, (Vannes,) near to his friend and brother bard, Gildas,\nwho had emigrated thither, and who is said to have converted\nTaliessin to the Christian faith. Three other celebrated bards of\nthe same period were Saint Sulio, Hyvarnion, and Kian Gwench'lan.\n\nTradition gives the following account of the manner in which St.\nSulio received his vocation. When very young, he was one day\nplaying with his brothers near the castle of their father, the\nlord of Powys, when a procession of monks passed by, led by their\nabbot, and chanting, to the sound of his harp, the praise of God.\nThe sweetness of their hymns so delighted the child, that,\nbidding his brothers return to their sports, he followed the\nmonks, \"in order to learn of them how he might compose beautiful\nsongs.\" His brothers hastened to tell their father of his flight,\nwho sent thirty armed men, with a charge to kill the abbot and to\nbring back Sulio. He had, however, been sent at once to a\nmonastery in Armorica, of which in due time he became prior. The\nWelsh, who call him Saint Y Sulio, possess a collection of his\npoems.\n\nThe Christian faith won its way more slowly in Armorica than it\nhad done in Britain. They who had inherited the harp of the\nancient Druids, with the mysteries of their religion and the\nsecrets of their knowledge, were often reluctant to submit to the\nbelief which despoiled them of their priesthood. \"If Taliessin,\"\nsays M. de la Villemarqu\u00e9, \"consecrated to Christ the fruits of a\nmysterious science, perfected under the shadow of proscribed\naltars; if the monks, taking the harp in hand, attracted to the\ncloister the children of the chiefs; if the Christian mother\ntaught her little one in the cradle to sing of him who died upon\nthe cross, .... there were, at the same time, in the depth of the\nwoods, dispersed members of the Druidic colleges, wandering from\nhut to hut, like the fugitive Druids of the Isle of Britain, who\ncontinued to give to the children of Armorica lessons on the\ndivinity, as their fathers had been taught; and they did so with\nsufficient success to alarm the Christian teachers, and oblige\nthem to combat them skilfully with their own weapons.\"\n\nEven after paganism had fallen before the cross, we find curious\ntraces of the Druidic element scattered here and there in the\nearly poems of Brittany. Her bishops of that period are spoken of\nas \"Christian Druids, who grafted the faith of Christ on the\nDruid oak;\" and of her poets it is said, \"They did not\n_break_ the harp of the ancient bards; they only changed\nsome of its chords.\"\n\n{400}\n\nThe most ancient poems preserved in Brittany which bear evidences\nof being the scientific compositions of the bards, are: _The\nSeries, or the Druid and the Child; The Prediction of Gwench'lan;\nThe Submersion of the City of Ys; The Changeling; The Wine of the\nGauls; The March of Arthur;_ and _Alain the Fox_. These\nare the last breathings of the _learned_ poetry of the\nBretons of Armorica.\n\nBut, besides the scientific poems of the descendants of the\nDruids, there grew up, at the same time, a large amount of\npopular poetry, both in Wales and in Armorica. As early as the\nsixth century, this divided itself into three distinct kinds:\ntheological, heroic, and historical poems; domestic poems and\nlove-songs; and poems on religious subjects, including the\nversified histories of saints. This whole class of poetry sprang\nfrom the people; it was the expression of their heart, the echo\nof their thoughts, the depository of their history and of their\nbelief.\n\nUpon this poetry of the people, both in the British island and in\nBrittany, the bards made war. And when, among the Bretons, the\npopular minstrels overcame the bards, the Welsh triads put the\nArmoricans in the number of \"the three peoples which have\ncorrupted the primitive bardism by mixing with it heterogeneous\nprinciples.\"\n\n\"It is only the _kler_, (scholar-poets,) the vagabonds, and\nthe beggars,\" says Taliessin, \"who give themselves no trouble.\"\n\n\"Bark not against instruction in the art of verse. Silence!\nmiserable pretenders, who usurp the name of bards! You know not\nhow to judge between truth and fables! ... As for me, I am\ndiviner and general-in-chief of the bards of the west!\"\n\nGildas is equally energetic in protesting against all \"who take\npleasure in listening to the vociferations\" of the popular poets\nof his time.\n\nReality and good faith are the two principal qualities inherent\nin popular poetry in its primitive state. The poet's aim is\nalways to paint faithfully something which actually occurred, or\nwhich he _believed_ did occur.\n\nChronicler and novelist, legendary and sacred psalmodist, the\npoet of Brittany is all this to the mass of the Breton\npopulation--to twelve hundred thousand uneducated persons,\nwithout any other learning than that which they gain from the\noral instruction of their clergy. A thoughtful and imaginative\npeople, full of poetic instinct, and of the desire of knowledge;\nand to whom every event, possessing a moderate share of interest,\nfurnishes subject-matter for a song.\n\nWe will now attempt translations of a portion of the\n_bardic_ poems which remain to us. We omit the first,\nentitled _Ar Rannoce_, or _The Series:_ a dialogue\nbetween a Druid and a child who is one of his disciples. Its\nlength would unduly prolong the present article; but, inasmuch as\nit conveys an interesting sketch of the cosmogony and theology of\nthe bardic system, we may find for it a place in some future\npage.\n\nTo come, then, to the second poem on our list, _The Prophecy of\nGwench'lan_. The bard Kian, surnamed Gwench'lan, or \"_Pure\nRace_\" was born in Armorica at the beginning of the fifth\ncentury, and was never won to the Christian faith. His enmity to\nit, indeed, was embittered by the treatment he received at the\nhands of a foreign prince, calling himself a Christian; who threw\nthe bard into a dungeon, and, after depriving him of sight, left\nhim there to die.\n{401}\nDuring his hard captivity he composed the following poem, called\n_Diougan Gwench'lan_, or _The Prophecy of Gwench'lan_,\nin which he predicts the fate of his captor, who was shortly\nafterward slain in battle fighting against the Bretons.\n\nThe composition of this poem is exactly after the pattern of the\nancient Welsh bards. Like Taliessin, Gwench'lan believes in the\n_three cycles of being_ of the Druidic theology, and in the\ndoctrine of metempsychosis. \"I have been born three times,\" says\nTaliessin. ... \"I have been dead; I have been alive; I am that\nwhich I was. ... I have been a wild goat upon the mountains; I\nhave been a spotted cock; I have been a fallow-deer; now I am\nTaliessin.\"\n\nLike Lywarc'h-Hen, he mourns over his old age and decrepitude. He\nis melancholy, and a fatalist.\n\nLike Aneurin, who had been made prisoner after the battle of\nKattracz, and in his captivity composed _The Song of\nGododin_, Gwench'lan sings in his chains and in the darkness\nof his dungeon.\n\nIt was not unusual among the bards to compare the leader of the\nenemy to the wild boar of the woods, and the champion who\nwithstood him to the war-horse, or the white horse of the sea.\n\nGwench'lan is said to have composed many songs in praise of the\nwarriors of his country--those who marched to battle invoking the\nSun-god, and, on returning victorious, danced in his honor to the\n\"_Sword, King of Battle_.\" A collection of his poems and\nprophecies was preserved until the French revolution, in the\nabbey of Landevenec; but the ferocious joy with which, in some\nfragments that remain, he contemplates the slaughter of the\nChristians in the Menez Br\u00e9, and the extermination of their\nfaith, makes their destruction small matter of regret to any but\nthe antiquary.\n\nGwench'lan, however, continues to be famous throughout Brittany,\nwhere the remnants of his compositions still are sung; especially\n_The Prophecy_, of which a part has been translated by M. de\nVillemarqu\u00e9 from _Barzaz Breiz_, (_Breton Ballads_.)\n\n Diougan Gwench'lan.\n\n Prophecy Of Gwench'lan.\n\n I.\n\n When the sun is setting,\n When the sea is swelling,\n I sit upon the threshold of my door.\n I sang when I was young,\n And still, grown old, I sing,\n By night, by day, though with sad heart and sore.\n\n If my head is bent low,\n If my trouble presses;\n It is not causeless care that weighs me down.\n It is not that I fear;\n I fear not to be slain:\n For long enough my life has lingered on.\n\n When they seek not Gwench'lan,\n Gwench'lan, they will find him:\n But find they shall not, when they seek for me.\n Yet, whatsoe'er betide,\n To me it matters not\n That alone which _ought_ to be, will _be_.\n Thrice all must die, ere rest at last they see.\n\n\n II.\n\n Wild boar, I behold him,\n From the wood forth comes he;\n Much he drinks; he hath a wounded foot:\n His hair is white with age;\n Round him his hungry young\n Are howling. Bloodstained is his gaping throat.\n\n White horse of the sea, lo!\n Comes to the encounter.\n The shore for terror trembles 'neath his tread.\n Bright and dazzling he,\n Bright as the sparkling snow;\n And silver horns are gleaming on his head.\n\n Foams the water 'neath him,\n At the thunder-fire\n Of those fierce nostrils. Sea-horses around\n Press, thick and close as grass\n Upon a lakelet's bank.\n Horse of the sea! strike well! Strike--strike him to the ground!\n\n ......\n\n III.\n\n As I was sweetly sleeping, in my cold, cold tomb.\n I heard the eagle calling, at midnight calling, \"Come!\n Rise on your wings, O eaglets! and all ye birds of heaven.\n To you, nor flesh of dogs, nor sheep, but _Christians_, shall be given!\"\n\n \"Old raven of the sea,\n What hold'st thou?--say to me.\"\n\n \"The chieftain's head I bear away:\n His two red eyes shall be my prey,\n For taking thy two eyes away.\"\n\n \"And thou too, what hast thou, O Reynard sly?\"\n\n \"His heart, which was as false as mine, have I;\n It sought thy death, and long hath made thee die.\"\n\n \"What dost thou by the corner of his mouth, O toad?\"\n\n \"I wait to seize his soul upon her road,\n Long as I live must I be her abode.\"\n\n Thus he meeteth his reward\n For his crime against the bard\n Who dwells no more between Roch-allaz and Porz-Gwen'n.\n\n{402}\n\nThe _Submersion of the City of Ys_, or Is, presents to us\none of those legends which has its counterpart in so many other\nbranches of the Celtic race. Its historical basis is as follows:\n\n \"In the year 440, there reigned in Armorica King Gradlon-veur,\n or the Great. His capital was the city of Is, since destroyed;\n and he occasionally consulted a holy man named Gwenol\u00e9, founder\n and abbot of the first monastery erected in Armorica.\n\n \"This is all which contemporary and authentic history tell us\n of this city, this prince, and this monk; but popular\n tradition, always more rich than history, furnishes us with\n additional particulars. According to this, the city of Is was\n protected from the invasions of the sea by an immense basin or\n reservoir, which at high tide received the waters of the ocean,\n as formerly the Lake Moeris those of the Nile. This basin had a\n secret door, of which the king alone had the key, and which he\n opened or closed himself when needed. One night, while he\n slept, the Princess Dahut, wishing to crown the follies of a\n banquet given to a suitor, stole the key; she, or, according to\n another variation of the story, her suitor, who was in truth\n the author of evil under an assumed form, opened the door, and,\n as had been foretold by Saint Gwenol\u00e9, submerged the city.\n\n \"This tradition, adds M. de Villemarqu\u00e9, ascends to the very\n cradle of the Celtic race, and is common to its three great\n branches, the Bretons, Welsh, and Irish.\n\n \"The _Is_ of Armorica is the _Gwaeleod_ of Wales, and\n the _Neaz_ of Ireland; the name in each instance\n signifying _low_ or _hollow_. According to all three,\n the daughter of the king is the cause of the catastrophe, and\n is punished by being changed into a siren, after a death by\n drowning. The Welsh version of this ballad, which is apparently\n of the date of the fifth century, and composed by the bard\n Gwezno, contains two strophes which are almost literally\n repeated in the Armorican. It begins in a way very like the\n conclusion of the latter. Some one comes to awaken the king,\n whom the bard calls Seizenin:\n\n \"'Seizenin! arise, and look! The land of warriors, the country\n of Gwezno, is overwhelmed by the ocean.'\n\n \"The Welsh sailors in Cardigan Bay, which, they assure us, now\n occupies the submerged territory, declare that they can see\n beneath the waters the ruins of ancient edifices. The same is\n said of the Bay of Douarnenez in Basse-Bretagne.\n\n \"Also, the Irish fishermen, at a much earlier epoch, (according\n to Giraldus Cambrensis,) the middle of the second century,\n believed that they could see glimmering under the waters of the\n lake which covers their city of Neaz the round towers of\n ancient days.\n\n \"With regard to the horse of Gradlon, Marie de France assures\n us that, in struggling through the flood, the force of the\n water bore his master off his back; that the life of Gradlon\n was saved by a beneficent fay, but the horse, on reaching the\n land without the king, became wild with grief.\n\n \"The original tradition says that Gradlon, fleeing for his\n life, bore his daughter behind him, when a terrible voice cried\n three times, 'Push off the demon that sits behind thee.' The\n unhappy king obeyed, and forthwith the waters were restrained.\"\n\n\n Submersion Of The City Of Is.\n\n I.\n\n Oh! hast thou heard--oh! hast thou heard\n Of Gwenol\u00e9 the rede,\n Which unto Gradlon, king of Is,\n He spake, but gat small heed?\n\n \"To earthly love, ah! yield thee not,\n With evil cease to toy;\n For after pleasure cometh woe,\n And sorrow follows joy.\n\n \"Who bites the flesh of fishes, soon\n The fishes him shall bite;\n And he who swallows, shall himself\n Be swallowed up some night.\n\n \"And he who drinks both beer and wine,\n Shall water drink amain:\n To him who cannot scan my speech\n It soon shall be made plain.\"\n\n\n II.\n\n One eve spake Gradlon, king of Is,\n King Gradlon thus spake he\n \"My merry friends, by your fair leave,\n A little sleep would we.\"\n\n{403}\n\n \"To-morrow 'twill be time enough--\n With us this evening stay;\n But if it be thy mind to sleep,\n We would not say thee nay.\"\n\n And thereupon her lover spake,\n Full softly whispered he,\n To Gradlon's daughter, \"Sweet princess,\n Sweet Dahut--_and the key!_\"\n\n \"Hush! I will bear the key away\n That locks the floodgates fast,\n And Is shall be within thy power\n Ere little time be past.\"\n\n\n III.\n\n Now, whosoe'er had seen the king,\n As on his couch he lay,\n With admiration had been filled\n At sight of his array.\n\n The aged king, in purple robed,\n With long and snow-white hair,\n Which o'er his shoulders flowed upon\n His golden collar fair.\n\n And whosoe'er had lain in wait\n Had spied the princess white,\n Unsandalled, steal into that room,\n In silence of the night.\n\n She to the king her father crept,\n Sank softly on her knee,\n Loosed from his neck the golden chain,\n And bore away the key.\n\n\n IV.\n\n He sleepeth on--he sleepeth on,\n Till, from the plains, a cry--\n \"The deep is o'er us! Is overwhelmed\n Beneath the waters high!\n\n \"My lord the king, arise, arise!\n To horse! and swiftly flee.\n The dykes are burst--the land o'erflowed\n By the triumphant sea.\"\n\n Accursed be the treacherous maid\n Who opened thus the gate\n After the feast--who drowned the land,\n And made it desolate!\n\n\n V.\n\n \"Oh! tell me now, brave forester,\n The wild-horse hast thou seen\n Of Gradlon? Hast thou seen it pass\n Along this valley green?\"\n\n \"The horse of Gradlon saw I not\n At any time pass by;\n But in deep night '_trip trap_' I hear,\n With lightning swiftness fly.\"\n\n \"Say, hast thou seen, O fisherman!\n The daughter of the sea,\n Combing her golden hair at noon,\n Where sparkling breakers be?\"\n\n \"Yes, I have seen the mermaid white:\n She sings among the waves.\n Her songs are plaintive as the sound\n Of deeps o'er dead men's graves.\"\n\nWe come now to _The Changeling_; and here again we trace not\nso much a resemblance as an all but literal reproduction of an\nIrish legend, known to all readers of _The Fairy Legends of the\nSouth of Ireland_ under the title, _The Brewery of\nEgg-shells_. It must be confessed, however, that the\nnon-Catholic medium through which the Irish version reaches us,\nhas deprived it of the religious turn it may possibly have had in\nthe original. Our Lady does not appear in it, as here in the\nBreton ballad.\n\n\n The Changeling.\n\n Grieved to the heart is la belle Marie.\n Where may her Laoik, her little one, be?\n Carried away by the Korrigan he.\n\n \"Forth to the fount as I went on a day,\n Safe in his cradle my little one lay;\n Home when I came he had vanished away.\n\n \"This wretched monster I found in his place.\n Rough, like a toad, with a horrible face,\n Dumb, greedy, fierce, like the rest of his race.\n\n \"Mary most pure, on your snow-gleaming throne,\n In your maternal arms holding your Son,\n You are in joy, while in sorrow I moan.\n\n \"Your Holy Child evermore you are keeping,\n Mine I have lost, whom I thought safely sleeping;\n Mother of Pity, ah! pity my weeping!\"\n\n \"Daughter, my daughter, oh! sorrow no more.\n Lost is he not whom you thus would deplore,\n Laoik, your darling, short time shall restore.\n\n \"Who in an egg-shell shall feign to prepare\n All that ten laborers need for their fare,\n Forces the dwarf into speech, then and there.\n\n \"When he has spoken, then whip--whip again!\n Whip, till he cry out with anger and pain!\n He will be heard: and be borne off amain.\"\n\n \"Prithee, my mother, what do you?\" he cries,\n \"What make you, mother?\" he asks in surprise.\n Dwarfling can scarcely believe his own eyes.\n\n \"What am I doing, my son, would you ken?\n Dinner I make, in this egg-shell, for ten,\n Ten of the farm-servants, laboring men.\"\n\n \"Ten! in an eggshell! The egg I have seen\n Fresh, of the oldest white hen that has been:\n Acorn, whose oak is far-spreading and green.\n\n \"Oaks have I seen, widening out from their core,\n Old oaks of Br\u00e9zal wood, rugged and hoar;\n Nothing like this have I e'er seen before.\"\n\n \"Too many things hast thou seen,\" she replies:\n Flip, flap! flip, flap!--thus upon him she flies.\n \"Little old man, now I have thee!\" she cries.\n\n{404}\n\n \"Whip not, nor strike, but restore him to me;\n Harm hath been none to thy boy, belle Marie;\n King over all in our country is he!\"\n\n When to her home returned Marie that day,\n Safe in his cradle her own baby lay,\n Sweetly asleep, as if wearied with play.\n\n While she stands gazing, entranced at the sight,\n Bending to kiss the fair cheeks with delight,\n Laoik, her lost one, his eyes opens bright.\n\n Half rising up, and with wondering eyes,\n Soft arms outstretched in a dreamy surprise,\n \"Mother! how long I've been sleeping!\" he cries.\n\nWe will conclude our present instalment from these interesting\nrelics of Celtic antiquity by a spirit-stirring fragment; for the\nreader will perceive that it is incomplete. This is _Arthur's\nMarch_, (_Bale Arzur,_) written, like the last, in the\n_Ies Kerne_, or dialect of Cornouaille--_Cornu\nGalliae_--a district of Brittany. There is a complete change\nof metre between the parts marked I. and II.; the former being so\narranged, that the poetical foot composing the lines is of three\nshort syllables following a long one, and produces a spirited and\nmartial effect, somewhat like the beat of a modern drum.\n\nM. de Villemarqu\u00e9, from whose _Barzaz Briez_, or _Breton\nBallads_, we have drawn so largely in these pages, speaks thus\nof the ballad before us:\n\n \"The popularity which the name of Arthur enjoys in Brittany is\n one of the most curious phenomena in the history of Breton\n fidelity. Neither defeat nor exile could make the Bretons\n forgetful of Arthur. His magic renown, crossing the sea with\n them, received new life in Armorica; he became there, as he was\n in the Isle of Britain, an armed symbol of national liberty;\n and the people, at all periods from the sixth century to our\n own time, repeated, with adaptation to circumstances, the\n traditions and the sayings or prophecies of which he was the\n subject. Thus, whenever war is impending, they see, as a\n warning sign, the army of Arthur defiling at break of day over\n the summit of the Black Mountains; and the poem here given has\n for twelve centuries been in the mouth of Bretons armed to\n defend their hearths and altars. I learnt it from an aged\n mountaineer named Mikel Floc'h, of Leuhan, who told me that he\n had often sung it when marching against the enemy in the last\n wars of the west.\"\n\nThe last strophe, which is of later date than the preceding ones,\nmay in some measure have contributed to save from oblivion the\n_March of Arthur_. It is always sung three times over, and\nwith the greatest enthusiasm.\n\nSome of the strophes, breathing the savage vengeance of pagan\ntimes, have been omitted in the English translation. They retain\nin the original so much of the Cambrian dialect and idiom as to\nbe scarcely in the least understood by the Bretons who sing them.\n\n\n The March Of Arthur.\n\n I.\n\n Haste, haste to the combat! Come kinsman, come brother,\n Come father, come son, to the battle speed forth!\n The brave and the dauntless, come, speed one another!\n Come all! there is work for the warriors of worth.\n\n\n II.\n\n Said to his father, at day-dawn, the son of the warrior,\n \"Horsemen I see, on the far mountain summits, who gather.\n\n \"Horsemen all mounted on war-steeds of gray, like the mist-wreaths;\n Coursers that snort with the cold on the heights of the mountains.\n\n \"Close ranks of six by six: three by three: thousands of lances\n Flash in the beams of the sun, to our vale yet unrisen.\n\n \"Double ranks follow the banners that wave in the death-wind,\n Measuring nine casts of a sling from the van to the rearward.\"\n\n \"Pendragon's army! I know it! Great Arthur Pendragon\n Leading his warriors, marches 'mid clouds of the mountain.\n\n \"If it be Arthur, then quick to our bows and swift arrows!\n Forward, and follow him. Set the keen death-winged dart flying!\"\n\n{405}\n\n E'en as he spake rang the fierce cry of war through the mountains:\n \"Heart for eye: head for arm; death for wound!\" through hill and valley.\n\n If in such manner we die as befits Breton Christians,\n Too soon we cannot sink down on the field of our conflict!\n\nIf our readers are not yet wearied with details of the ancient\npoetry of this exceptional part of France, we hope to present\nthem in our next number with further specimens; including the\ndeath of Lord Nann from the spells of a malignant Korrigan, or\nBreton fairy, and the argument by which a Breton maiden persisted\nin choosing the cloister against all the persuasions of a suitor\nto her hand. Both these poems date at least from the sixth\ncentury of Christianity.\n\n ----------\n\n Indian Summer.\n\n Upon the hills the autumn sun\n His radiance pours like golden wine;\n And low, sweet music seems to run\n Among the tassels of the pine;\n Around us rings the wild bird's scream;\n Above, an arch of dark-blue sky;\n While, like a maiden's summer dream,\n The mists upon the meadows lie.\n\n O peerless Indian Summer hours,\n With bracing morn and slumbrous noon!\n How pale are June's bright, flaunting flowers\n Amid thy wealth of gorgeous bloom.\n The river ripples softly on,\n With purple hills upon its breast;\n And soft cloud-shadows, floating down,\n Have found a scene of perfect rest.\n\n The evening darkens; from the hills\n The glory fades, so proudly worn;\n And in the west serenely fills\n The fair young moon her silver horn;\n While from the deep'ning blue above\n The stars steal slowly, singly forth;\n And night-winds, like the breath of love,\n Come floating o'er the silent earth.\n\n Veronica.\n\n Cornwall Landing.\n\n ----------\n\n{406}\n\n\n Creative Genius of Catholicity. [Footnote 136]\n\n [Footnote 136: We take pleasure in presenting in our pages\n the following able article, from the pen of the late lamented\n Colonel James Monroe. Few writers have left behind a\n testimony more striking of their devotion to our holy faith,\n or of their confidence in its elevating social power. It\n meets living questions of the day with a rare aptitude, and\n presents views and applies principles in a manner worthy of\n attentive and thoughtful consideration.--ED. C. W.]\n\nIf the creative genius of Catholicity were to be stated from an\n_a priori_ point of view, it would reduce itself to the form\nof an axiom; for Catholicity being the body of revealed truth,\nconfirming and agreeing with truth in every order, truth being\nessentially \"that which is,\" (to employ the words of Bossuet,)\nCatholicity must be pre-eminently endowed with the germinative\nand fruitful spirit of origination. But inasmuch as truth has in\nthis world a clouded scene for her activity, as effects arise\nconstantly, and almost invariably, from an intermixture of causes\nof a diverse and contending character, and as the divine, the\nhuman, and the material elements are incessantly conjoined in\naction, it becomes necessary to trace the chain of events and to\nelucidate the influence of principles. This process does not,\nwith the mind which is gifted with faith, arrive at the dignity\nof the highest proof; it rather serves to record examples and to\ncollect illustrations.\n\nIn executing such a process, the difficulty is, not to find\ninstances, but to decide which of them to choose amidst the\nboundless variety. I think it germane to the subject to compare\nCatholic genius with that of the most polished nation of the\nGentile world, as the two have been displayed under the sensuous\nrelation of form. The Greeks, beyond all other people, possessed\na native capability in art, and there remains of the productions\nof the Greek mind enough for a just estimate of its rich\ncapabilities. The models of Greek genius have won the\nenthusiastic admiration of mankind, and they dominate with a\nstrong mastery over all cultivated minds which lack the Catholic\nfaith. \"Even from their urns, they rule them still.\"\n\nWhatever difficulties language, poetry, philosophy, may labor\nunder from the lapse of time, that which is tactual and visual\nneeds but to be present to be appreciated. If art be the\nemanation of a creative spirit; if it be not, in its highest\nsphere, a copy or an imitation, then must it be admitted that the\nevolution of the Greek orders of architecture, combining majestic\nstrength, radiant grace, and flowery beauty, embodied in pure and\nenduring material, is the loftiest expression of impassioned\nheathen genius. It is higher than their types of the human form,\nbecause it was wrought without a model and shaped directly from\nthe mind's ideal. The conception is one so strong and great that\nit has never had a rival outside of Catholicity--and indeed\nhardly a respectable imitator. The coarser capability of the\nRoman mind not only originated nothing and added nothing to Greek\ninvention, but it marred and misapplied that which it undertook\nto adopt. Later copyists have aimed no higher than a restoration\nof what their masters had created.\n\n{407}\n\nAll that addresses the eye, and through it the mind, under form\nalone, may be objectively resolved into lines and surfaces, which\nmay be again subdivided into yet simpler elements. The\ncombinations of these elements--their union, tangencies, and\ncontrasts--may be classified, and may furnish certain deductions\nwhich are incontrovertible general conclusions. Indeed, the\ndeduction may become so far generalized as to pass beyond the\nboundary of the art which suggested it--as \"the perfection of\nform is said to annihilate form;\" it then arrives at abstract\ntruth, which seeks its illustration in matter, without deriving\nits validity therefrom. This is so far true that the science\nwhose highest deductions fall short of such generalization is yet\nin a rudimentary condition. [Footnote 137]\n\n [Footnote 137: As an example, we may take the principle of\n beauty as shown in the simplest and least beautiful of the\n regular curves, the circular. In the circle variation in\n direction is combined with identity in the distance from a\n fixed point. There is, then, unity in diversity--a general\n principle, of which the circle is but an example. Nature,\n ever affluent in resources, varies the tameness of the circle\n by presenting it to the eye as a right line, an ellipse,\n etc., according to the point of view. Thus again illustrating\n the law of unity in diversity; for the knowledge that the\n figure is still a circle is _one_, while the gradations\n in its appearance are many.]\n\nIn adjusting the elements of form under harmonious combinations,\nand in expanding them into imposing dimensions, the Greek mind\nwas so subtle and appreciative that it missed nothing, and\nexhausted everything within the reach of its science, \"unwinding\nall the links of grace, without a blunder or an oversight.\" If\nthe Gothic architecture had borrowed from the Greek, or had\nsimply carried forward into further development the same\nformative idea, it might be said that the case was that of the\ndwarf upon the giant's shoulders, who sees further than the giant\nhimself. But the fact is entirely otherwise. The projectors and\nmoulders of the Gothic church architecture found the field of\ninvention limited--as must ever be the case--by preceding\ninvention. The genius, therefore, must have been the greater\nwhich not only discovered new combinations of excellence, but\nanticipated and antedated yet surpassed all predecessors.\n\nAmong tribes of men whom the Greek styled \"barbarous\" emanates a\nlife in art which transcends his highest conception. We encounter\nfabrics loftier, broader, deeper; the arch which _he_ did\nnot employ is lifted from its circular character into a higher\ncurvature, and its key-stone boldly stricken out. We find pillars\nmassed, scalloped, and filleted; mouldings of a more graceful\ncontour, every way flexure of contrast and gradation; a mazy web\nof tracery combining lightness, symmetry, permanence, and\nequilibrium; in mid air, a shapely dome, poised by the daring\nhand of science, where the cloud might visit it and the rainbow\ncircle it. All this prodigality of invention and unequalled\nexecution, springing forth as from an exhaustless fountain, is\nnot confined to some favored peninsula, but is common to Italy,\nGermany, France, and England. The common cause of an effect so\nuniform and remarkable was the inspiring and elevating influence\nof the One Catholic faith.\n\nI will quote here a Protestant writer's view of the difference in\ndesign between the Greek and Gothic building:\n\n \"The essential, germinal principle of difference between the\n temple and the cathedral is, that the former is built for\n exterior effect, the latter for interior. On occasions of\n worship, the multitude surrounded one edifice, but filled the\n other. The temple has, as regards architectural impression,\n really no interior at all; for the small _cella_ or\n _naos_ which hid the _penetralia_ entered not at all\n into the effect of the structure. From this difference in\n character and design, the whole diversity between the\n characters of Greek and Gothic forms and decorations may be\n derived. To the former, viewed from without, an aspect of\n elevated repose must belong; and all the decorations must be\n superficial. The elaboration of an impressive and inspiring\n interior led necessarily to soaring height and a general\n upwardness of all the courses; to long-drawn vistas, side by\n side; to grand portals to give entrance, and a multitude of\n windows to give light; and to a general style of decoration,\n concave, receding, and perspective.\"\n\n{408}\n\nThe same writer says:\n\n \"If England's cathedrals are inferior to those of France, they\n are more beautiful than anything else in the world. Durham and\n Ely, and Winchester and Salisbury, what needs the soul of man\n more impressive, glorious, transcendent, than these?\"\n\nAnother competent authority--also a Protestant--says:\n\n \"There is infinitely more scientific skill displayed in a\n Gothic cathedral than in all the buildings of Greece and Rome;\n nor could these latter have resisted the shock of time so long,\n had they not been almost solid masses of stone, with no more\n cavity than was indispensably necessary.\"\n\nLet us examine the principle of delineation in the human\nform--that which has ever captivated the efforts of the greatest\nartists. In the classic execution of the highest human types\nthere is an evident straining after the expression of something\nabove the actual. Sir Charles Bell has shown that this effect is\nattained by a refined species of exaggeration. It consists in\nexaggerating whatever distinguishes man from the animals in\nenlarging, for example, the facial angle. It is a further remove\nfrom the animals than man is, but _in the same direction_.\nThe Hercules, for instance, is an embodiment of the central form\nof strength--it is an exaggeration of muscular development. The\nhighest expression is the embodiment of human passion. In this\nway the Greeks attained the delineation of the _superhuman_.\nUnder the tutorage of Catholicity the human lineaments achieved\nthe expression of the supernatural. One was the idealization of\nnature; the other the supernaturalization of humanity. Of this\nlatter classic art had no conception; while therefore it may\nequal or surpass Catholic art in execution, it must fall far\nbelow in its ideal. [Footnote 138]\n\n [Footnote 138: In this connection let us record a few remarks\n from the ablest writers upon the subject.\n\n Solger has said: \"Philosophy can create nothing: it can only\n _understand_. It can create neither the religious\n inspiration nor the artistic genius: but it can detect and\n bring to light all that is contained therein.\"\n\n Hegel, in stating the relation of art, religion, and\n philosophy, says:\n\n \"Art fulfils its highest mission when it has established\n itself with religion and philosophy in the one circle common\n to all, and is merely a method of revealing the godlike to\n man, of giving utterance to the deepest interests, the most\n comprehensive truths pertaining to mankind. Nations have\n deposited the most holy, rich, and intense of their ideas in\n works of art, and art is the key to the philosophy and\n religion of a nation.\"\n\n Schilling, with his peculiar theory, says: \"That artist is to\n be accounted happy to whom the gods have granted the\n _creative spirit_. When the artist _recognizes_ the\n aspect and being of the _indwelling creative idea_, and\n produces it, he makes the individual a _world in\n itself_, a _species_, an _eternal type_.\"\n\n Not one of these three statements is beyond the reach of\n cavil or of just exception; but, for the purpose in hand, we\n see that the first says that \"philosophy can create nothing;\"\n the second, that \"art is a method of revealing the godlike to\n man, and of giving utterance to his most holy and intense\n ideas;\" and the third, that it involves a gift or endowment\n of the \"creative spirit.\"]\n\nFinally, all art is expression. Given a knowledge and mastery of\nthe instruments of expression, and the thought will determine its\ncharacter; the nature of the thought expressed depends upon the\nconceiving mind; the highest conception of the mind is the\noffspring of religious affection, the Catholic is the true\nreligion; therefore the expression of Catholic genius is the\nsummit of art. It is by no means a necessity that the soul shall\nexpress itself under sensuous forms; but to all outward\nmanifestation a power over the instrument is a condition--in\nwhich sense the body is itself an instrumentality. What the soul\nexpresses must be thought--either its own, or another's--it must\neither imitate or originate; imitation is merely repetition, and\nis in the power of a mirror. So that what in every art cannot be\ntaught is expression.\n{409}\nThe highest effort of the soul is spontaneous and original.\nHerein we find the superiority--visible at a glance--of Catholic\narchitecture over the Greek orders, of Catholic delineations of\nthe human countenance over the finest models of antiquity.\n\nWe have sufficiently considered the originative character of\nCatholicity under the aspect of constructed form. We have\ncontemplated her moulding and shaping matter in her flexible\nfingers, and evolving that wilderness of artistic grace and\nloveliness which, in the ruins of a Tintern or Melrose Abbey,\ncompels the admiration, but defies the rivalry, of the apostate\nsons of Catholic sires. We shall now consider her influence in\nthe building up of states and the organization of societies.\n\nChristianity took its rise under a universal military despotism.\nIt sustained for three hundred years the superincumbent pressure\nof a hostile heathen empire. It exhausted the malice and the\npower of a pagan and brutalized temporal order; and when the\nRoman empire shook the world with its fall, Christianity survived\nthe death-throes of that mighty organization.\n\nWhen she rose from the catacombs, she did not sweep away the\ntemples of the heathen gods; she drove from those fanes the\nunclean spirits which so long had dwelt within them; she rescued\nthem from their demon desecration, monuments of her triumph,\ntrophies of her victorious agonies; she made them the basilicas\nof her majestic worship.\n\nWhen the fierce tribes from the north poured over Southern\nEurope, the church preserved what was sound in the Roman\ncivilization, instructed the barbarians in agriculture by the\nexample of her laborious monks, and taught them all the arts of\nlife; instituted laws and polity; tempered and restrained\ntyranny; planted and nourished the seeds of liberty; developed\ncivilization and refinement, and built up the whole grand fabric\nof Christendom.\n\nIn this formation of new states out of new populations, they did\nnot become perfect exemplars of Christian ethics and morals, nor\nexact exponents of the formative power of Catholicity. The church\nencountered in those ages, as she does in this, incessant\nobstacles, difficulties, and resistance. Whatever was good and\nadmirable in those constitutions came to them from the Catholic\nreligion and was derived from the papal see.\n\nThe canon law had, under the emperors, tempered and modified the\ncivil code; and among the new states it operated a beneficial\nchange in the feudal principles. Both these systems prescribed\nfor the mass of men an unchristian servitude. Enlightened equity\nand justice, and equality before the law, originated in the\njurisprudence of the church, and not in barbarous feudalities,\nnor in the capricious and tyrannical decrees of Roman emperors.\nThere are men in this age and country who profess great love for\nthe people and great regard for the rights of labor, but who are\nstanch partisans of the tyrants of the middle age in the\ncontentions which arose between them and the papal see. Inherited\nill-will blinds them to the fact that the only power in those\ndays which could hold tyranny to an accountability or check\nkingly license was that of the pope. The exercise of the papal\nprotectorate not only tended to prevent causeless wars, but it\ncontrolled the corrupting influence of royal vices by stamping\nthem with reprobation and, where needful, with degradation. It\nwas the bulwark of the feebler states, the barrier against\nprincely ambition, and everywhere the advocate, the friend, and\nthe defender of the toiling multitude.\n\n{410}\n\nThe new organization of states was to be marked by a\ncharacteristic which was also new. Human government is ordained\nof God. Christianity was to recognize and to exemplify this\ntruth. She was to legitimate and ennoble human government in its\nown separate order. To effect this in the fullest manner, there\nmust be an exemplification directly from the personality of the\nhierarchy; for, sacrifice being the most exalted human action,\nthe priest, whose office it is to offer sacrifice, is by his\nfunction first among men. The highest recognition must therefore\nderive from the priesthood. But there would always be something\nlacking of the _highest_, unless the head of the hierarchy\nwere a temporal ruler. The temporal power of the pope is the\nconsecration of human government. Unlike others, he receives no\ndignity from the office, but confers grace upon it and upon its\norder; and Christendom, created by the church, receives the\nkey-stone of its strength and its crowning symmetry when the\nfirst of Christian priests becomes a ruler among the nations. And\nconsequently, religion suffers its direst outrage when, reversing\nthe order, the temporal power lays its unfaltering hand upon the\nvessels of the sanctuary.\n\nThe church not only created the interior coherency of states by\nintroducing just principles into their constitution; she not only\nbound them in links of fellowship whose _nexus_ was at Rome;\nshe also organized their exterior defence. In uniting Christendom\nduring the crusades to repel the Moslem invasion, the popes\ncaused the reconstruction of systematic and scientific strategy,\nwhich had disappeared with the Roman legion, thus furnishing to\ncivilization a needful defence and a desirable superiority, while\nat the same time the narrow spirit of the feudal method and its\nlocal strifes were rendered obsolete.\n\nFor a thousand years the struggle begun by Mohammedan invasion\ncontinued to rage on the confines of Europe. At its early period\nit penetrated to Tours in France, where it was checked by Charles\nMartel, in 732. But the triumph was not completed on that wing of\nChristendom till the capture of Granada, and the annihilation of\nthe Moorish power in Spain in the year of the discovery of\nAmerica. On the other border, the Turks besieged and took\nBelgrade, and suffered a final repulse at Vienna from John\nSobieski, King of Poland, in 1683.\n\nBut, so far as human causes indicate, the question whether the\nfaith of Europe should be Christian or Moslem was decided in the\nGulf of Lepanto, in 1571. These were all European battle-fields.\nThe struggle was against an invasion which struck at the\nexistence of Christianity. The master-spirit which created,\ncombined, informed, and directed the resistance dwelt in the\nVatican.\n\nThe modern age is distinguished for the intense application of\nhuman intelligence to the laws and conditionalities of time,\nspace, and matter, in their triple relations; and Providence\nseems to be permitting to man the reassertion of his dominion\nover the earth. \"Knowledge is power,\" but the right employment of\npower is _virtue_; and unless the moral forces keep pace\nwith the conquests of mind in the realm of matter, there will\nensue antagonisms more destructive than before, as well as a more\nprofound desolation of the human race. The rectification of the\nwill is of an importance prior and superior to the activity of\nthe intelligence; and without a religious faith and sanction the\nfruits of the understanding are but dust and ashes.\n\n{411}\n\nWhen we consider the spirit of invention and examine its results,\nthree great products assume an acknowledged superiority. These\nare, the magnet, with its corollary, the extension of\ngeographical discovery; the printing-press in its action upon\nintelligence; and gunpowder in its relation to physical forces in\nwar. The magnet can never again point the way to a discovery like\nthat which was achieved by Columbus; the art of printing cannot\nbe applied to a higher purpose than that of multiplying copies of\nthe Holy Scriptures; and gunpowder, which still controls the\npractice of the art of war, was never employed upon an occasion\nso critical to civilization and so momentous in the world's\naffairs, as when the cannon of Don John of Austria won for\nChristendom the great fleet-fight of Lepanto. These three\ncommanding discoveries, and these their greatest applications,\nbelong to Catholic nations and to Catholic individuals. The\nProtestant religions have no part in these discoveries, because\nthere is an awkward metaphysical axiom which says that the cause\nmust exist before the effect, and these greatest of inventions\nall preceded--some of them by centuries--the birth of\nProtestantism.\n\nSome writers have claimed that the inventive spirit began with\nthe dawn of the Reformation, at which time, according to Robert\nHall, the nations \"awoke from the sleep of ages to run a career\nof virtuous emulation.\" If this be so, why is it that later\ndiscoveries have not equalled those which we have just specified?\nAccording to this theory, the dawn eclipses the noon-day; and\nProtestantism would seem to belong to that class of things of\nwhich the _less_ you have of them the _better_.\n\nThe revival of letters is usually dated in the thirteenth\ncentury, and that honor is universally accorded to Italy. The\nfirst bank and the first newspaper are found at Venice. The Bible\nhad been published in numerous editions before Luther began to\ndogmatize from a printed copy of it in Saxony. The system of\nmodern commerce took its rise under the papacy, and ran a\nbrilliant career in the Italian republics, and in the free cities\nof Germany, long before the era of the Protestant religions.\nColumbus had discovered the New World, and Vasco da Gama had\ndoubled the Cape of Good Hope and marked the pathway to India,\nbefore the rise of England's commercial greatness. The \"progress\"\nhad been installed, and had achieved such works as these, before\nthe century in which Lord Bacon lived to write his _Inductive\nSystem of Philosophy_.\n\nIt would be an incomplete view of the subject if we failed to\nremark the _enduring_ character of the work which is of\nCatholic creation. Not like the mutable religions which protest\nagainst her; nor struck with incurable sterility, like the Greek\nschismatic; nor frozen into lifeless forms, like those of the\nAsiatic world; the living faith of the church incessantly and\nindefinitely advances the nation and the individual who\nfaithfully correspond to it. That vitality, once infused into the\npulses of a people, goes forth from them only with its lifeblood.\nThere is an exemplification of this truth in the persecution\nwhich the Irish people have sustained, and are sustaining, at the\nhands of the English government. History presents no parallel to\nthis antagonism of physical power, on the one hand, and moral\ndetermination on the other.\n{412}\nTo sustain her wars of aggression, and to uphold her detestable\nsystem of classes and privileged orders, England has taxed\neverything, even the air and the light of heaven. This legalized\noppression has ground down the English laborer and operative, but\nit has fallen with crushing cruelty upon the Irish peasant, whose\ncountry, in addition to the evil of partial and jealous\nlegislation, has been compelled to pay tithes to a hostile and\nhating creed.\n\nThis merciless system has depopulated the land, and in the\nenforced emigration the Irish peasant has found no powerful\ngovernment to aid him in his going; he has paid, to the last\nfarthing, the exactions and robberies of English domination, and\nthen has made his own unassisted way, dogged by an inflicted\npoverty but with his gallant spirit still unbroken. What has\nEngland gained by this conflict of centuries with Ireland? She\nhas sapped her own strength and merited the condemnation of\nmankind. Moral causes control the universe, and the moral heroism\nof Ireland has vanquished every odds and every disaster. A\ntemporal power far greater than that of Rome when her eagles were\ninvincible has pursued for ages the determined purpose of forcing\nthe people of the sister-island to join in protest and hostility\nagainst the Apostolic See. But the imperial monarchy, the riches,\nthe splendor, the craft of England have found their master in the\nstern, unyielding, unconquerable fidelity with which the Irish\npeople have clung to the Catholic faith.\n\nThe existence of this hemisphere was made known by agencies\naltogether Catholic. The first act of Columbus on his landing in\nthe New World, that of planting a cross upon its soil, the\nmeaning even of his baptismal name, was significant. In South\nAmerica, in those self-same years that nations were torn from her\ncommunion by the abuse of learning and liberty derived from\nherself, Catholicity was engaged in widening the domain of\nChristendom and adding a continent to the faith.\n\nI will briefly quote a New England Protestant writer in this\nconnection. In the second volume of his _Conquest of Peru_,\nPrescott says:\n\n \"The effort to christianize the heathen is an honorable\n characteristic of the Spanish conquests. The Puritan, with\n equal religious zeal, did comparatively little for the\n conversion of the Indian. But the Spanish missionary, from\n first to last, has shown a keen interest in the spiritual\n welfare of the natives. Under his auspices churches, on a\n magnificent scale, have been erected, schools for elementary\n instruction founded, and every rational means taken to spread\n the knowledge of religious truth, while he has carried his\n solitary mission into remote and almost inaccessible regions,\n or gathered his Indian disciples into communities, like the\n good Las Casas in Cuman\u00e1, or the Jesuits in California and\n Paraguay. At all times the courageous ecclesiastic has been\n ready to lift his voice against the cruelty of the conqueror,\n and when his remonstrances have proved unavailing, he has still\n followed to bind up the broken-hearted, to teach the poor\n Indian resignation under his lot, and light up his dark\n intellect with the revelation of a holier and happier\n existence. The same nation which sent forth the hard-hearted\n conqueror from its bosom sent forth the missionary to do the\n work of beneficence, and spread the light of Christian\n civilization over the farthest regions of the new world.\"\n\nElsewhere the same historian speaks thus of the Spanish conqueror\nof Mexico:\n\n \"The conversion of the heathen was a predominant motive with\n Cortes in his expedition. It was not a vain boast. He would\n have sacrificed his life for it at any time; and more than\n once, by his indiscreet zeal, he actually did place his life\n and the success of his enterprise in jeopardy. It was his great\n purpose to purify the land from the brutish abominations of the\n Aztecs by substituting the religion of Jesus. This gave to his\n expedition the character of a crusade. It furnished the best\n apology for the conquest, and does more than all other\n considerations toward enlisting our sympathies on the side of\n the conquerors.\"\n\n{413}\n\nFor the benefit of those who have a tender sympathy for the Incas\nand Montezumas, and naught but execrations for the Spanish\ninvaders, it may be remarked that the religions of Mexico and\nPeru were stained with human sacrifices, followed in the former\nby cannibalism. The same unerring and irresponsible Being--ever\nadjusting the retribution to the crime--who hurls the avalanche\nfrom its mountain, gives its mission to the tempest, and scourges\nthe city with pestilence, likewise directs the fearful visitation\nof the sword, whether in the hand of a Joshua, a Cyrus, an\nAttila, or a Pizarro. On the southern continent Catholic\ncolonization preserved, christianized, and elevated the\naboriginal races; while in the north, Protestant colonization\nswept away even their graves.\n\nIt is time to consider, and in a more special manner, the agency\nof the Catholic religion in the formation of this majestic\nRepublic of the United States.\n\nThe fundamental principle upon which our ancestors based their\nresistance to England was, that they were Englishmen, and had\nlost none of the rights of British subjects by being transplanted\nto these shores. They claimed the system of the common law as an\ninheritance, and also all those guarantees which had grown up\ninto that frame-work called the English Constitution. Upon this\nissue they went into the Revolution, and upon the same issue\nChatham, and Burke, and others defended the cause of the\ncolonists in the British parliament. The definite question, then,\nis, What were those principles, and whence were they derived?\n\nThe first declaration of public rights in England is the document\ncalled Magna Charta, delivered by King John, at Runnymede, in\n1215. This instrument begins as follows:\n\n \"John, by the grace of God King of England, Lord of Ireland,\n Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine, and Earl of Anjou: To the\n archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, barons, justiciaries of\n the forests, sheriffs, governors, officers, and to all\n bailiffs, and other his faithful subjects, Greeting: Know ye\n that we, in the presence of God, and for the health of our\n soul, and the souls of all our ancestors and heirs, and the\n exaltation of his holy church, and amendment of our kingdom, by\n advice of our venerable fathers, Stephen, Archbishop of\n Canterbury, Primate of all England, and Cardinal of the Holy\n Roman Church; Henry, Archbishop of Dublin; William, Bishop of\n London, ... have, in the first place, granted to God, and by\n this our present charter, confirmed for us and our heirs for\n ever.\n\n \"ART. I. That the Church of England shall be free, and enjoy\n her whole rights and privileges inviolable,\" etc.\n\nMany of the articles are occupied with matters relating to feudal\ntenures, which, of course, are without application to this\ncountry. The twentieth article is as follows:\n\n \"ART. XX. A freeman [that is, a free-holder] shall not be\n amerced for a small fault, only according to the degree of his\n fault; and for a great crime, in proportion to the heinousness\n of it, saving to him his contenement, [means of livelihood;]\n and after the same manner a merchant, saving to him his\n merchandise; and a villein shall be amerced after the same\n manner, saving to him his wainage, [carts, etc.,] if he falls\n under our mercy; and none of the aforesaid amerciaments shall\n be assessed but by the oaths of honest men of the neighborhood.\n\n \"ART. XXX. No sheriff or bailiff of ours, or any other, shall\n take horses or carts of any freeman for carriage, without the\n consent of the said freeman.\n\n \"ART. XXXI. Neither shall we or our bailiffs take any man's\n timber for our castles or other uses, unless by the consent of\n the owner of the timber.\n\n \"ART. XXXIX. No freeman shall be taken or imprisoned, or\n disseised, or outlawed, or banished, or any way destroyed; nor\n will we condemn him, or commit him to prison, unless by the\n legal judgment of his peers, or by the law of the land.\n\n{414}\n\n \"ART. XL. To none we will sell, to none will we deny, nor\n delay, right or justice.\n\n \"ART. LI. And, as soon as peace is restored, we will send out\n of the kingdom all foreign soldiers, cross-bowmen, and\n stipendiaries, who are come with horses and arms, to the injury\n of the kingdom.\n\n \"ART. LV. All unjust and illegal fines, and all amerciaments\n imposed unjustly, and contrary to the law of the land, shall be\n entirely forgiven,\" etc.\n\nThe sixty-third and last article is:\n\n \"ART. LXIII. Wherefore we will, and firmly enjoin, that the\n Church of England be free, and that all men in our kingdom have\n and hold all the aforesaid liberties, rights, and concessions\n peaceably,\" etc.\n\nCopies of this charter were found to have been deposited in the\ncathedrals of Lincoln, Salisbury, and Gloucester. When, in the\nnext reign, that of Henry III., circumstances required that the\ncharter should be confirmed, the ceremony was performed by the\nArchbishop of Canterbury and the other bishops. Coming before the\nking, in Westminster Hall, with tapers in their hands, they\ndenounced excommunication against the breakers of the charter;\nand, casting down their tapers, exclaimed, \"So may all that incur\nthis sentence be extinguished.\" To which the king responded, \"So\nhelp me God, I will keep all these things inviolate.\"\n\nHallam says, of this great charter:\n\n \"It is still the key-stone of English liberty,\" \"and all that\n has since been obtained is little more than as confirmation or\n commentary.\"\n\nSir James Mackintosh and Sir William Blackstone agree essentially\nwith Hallam. In respect to the merit of obtaining the charter,\nMr. Hallam says:\n\n \"As far as we are guided by historical testimony, two great\n men, the pillars of our church and state, may be considered as\n entitled beyond the rest to the glory of this monument--Stephen\n Langton, Archbishop of Canterbury, and William, Earl of\n Pembroke.\"\n\nOf the charter, Sir William Blackstone says:\n\n \"It protected every individual of the nation in the free\n enjoyment of his life, his liberty, and his property, unless\n declared to be forfeited by the judgment of his peers.\"\n\nThe Petition of Right, passed in 1628, was based confessedly upon\nMagna Charta. Its principal provisions are:\n\n 1. That no loan or tax might be levied, save by consent of\n parliament.\n\n 2. That no man might be imprisoned but by legal process.\n\n 3. That soldiers might not be quartered on people against their\n will.\n\n 4. That no commissions be granted for executing martial law.\n\nThis Petition of Right, in its third article, quotes entire the\nthirty-ninth of the charter, which is there styled \"the great\ncharter of the liberties of England.\" Coke, who drew up the\npetition, in his speech against the king's prerogative, says: \"In\nmy opinion, it weakens Magna Charta and all our statutes.\"\n\nThe Bill of Rights, passed at the Revolution of 1688, assumes it\nas the clear duty of the subjects \"to vindicate and assert their\nancient rights and liberties.\" The Act of Settlement declares\nthat \"the laws of England are the birthright of the people\nthereof.\"\n\n{415}\n\nThe correspondence and analogy between the principles of the\ngreat charter, together with its successive commentaries and\nconfirmations, and those upon which the American Revolution\nrests, are obvious and striking. We may particularly instance the\nroyal infringements upon the rights of the colonists, in refusing\nassent to laws the most wholesome and necessary to the public\ngood; keeping up standing armies in time of peace without the\nconsent of the legislature; affecting to render the military\nindependent of and superior to the civil power; quartering armed\ntroops upon the inhabitants; imposing taxes upon them without\ntheir consent; depriving them, in many cases, of the benefit of\ntrial by jury; and altering fundamentally the form of their\ngovernment.\n\nWithout a basis of right principle, the American Revolution would\nhave been a rebellion against legitimate authority, and the\npeople would have been deprived of that rectitude of conscience\nwhich bore them through the war; they would have been demoralized\nby the overthrow of their inbred loyalty, without which no free\ngovernment is secure. If there was not a violation of conscience\nin withdrawing their allegiance to the British crown, it was\nbecause they had sovereign rights which were above that\nallegiance. It was because there was a Magna Charta which, in the\nwords of Coke, \"would brook no sovran.\" The contest was for those\ntransmitted liberties which the American people claimed as a\nbirthright under the British Constitution. Nearly six centuries\ndivide 1776 from 1215; but the gulf is spanned by that arch of\nimmortal principles which was projected by Cardinal Stephen\nLangton and his Catholic compeers in the meadow of Runnymede.\n\nIn violating the unity of Christendom in the sixteenth century,\nEngland thus outraged the national conscience, and her disloyalty\nto the truth that she had inherited for a thousand years was\nfollowed by the oppression of her colonies, which finally led to\ntheir separation from her. There was this great principle\ninvolved in that contest, and this great difference in favor of\nthe colonists: England oppressed them, from her want of Catholic\nguidance and restraint and the observance of her own organic\nprinciple; _they_ resisted _her_ on that basis of\npublic right, and loyalty, and reason, which had been embedded in\nthe English Constitution by their common Catholic ancestry. Not\nfor the defence only of those rights, but for the knowledge of\nthem--for their very existence--were our ancestors indebted to\nthe Roman Catholic religion.\n\nUpon the traditional laws and free principles of the English\nConstitution, we have erected an unrivalled system of order and\nright, while in English hands they have degenerated into a scheme\nof legalized oppression which is without a parallel among nations\nclaiming to be free. Providence, acting on events, has so\ndisposed them that England's persecution of the faith has\ntransferred the Catholic population from that country to this,\nwhere with the language are found also the true tradition and the\njust development of the English Catholic constitution.\n\nWhat is wanted to the perfection of American nationality is a\nfirm moral, that is, religious foundation. It is easily\nsusceptible of proof that no strong nationality has ever\nsubsisted without such a basis. I do not, of course, limit the\nproposition to the Christian religion. But the foundation must be\nthe more stable as the religion which underlies and props it is\nnearer to a conformity with unmixed truth. The first step in our\ncareer of greatness was to turn from England and to advance\ntoward that unity which she had abandoned--when we seized upon\nthe traditional Catholic principles and defended them against her\nattempted despotism.\n{416}\nThe true course of our national welfare and security lies still\nin the same direction--toward unity, and toward the Catholic\nChurch. For what is to supply the spiritual needs of this young,\nand energetic, and glorious people? Surely not these transmitted\nand transplanted heresies which have passed into their decline\nand are tottering in their dotage. The creed which might answer\nfor some bounded island, a petty electorate, or a mountain canon,\nis too narrow for this continental power, which needs a religion\nconfederate as its own union and wide as the expansion of its own\ndomain.\n\nWe have here many difficult and dividing moral questions already\npressing for a solution. The fusion of the Caucasian\ntribes--already harmonized by the Catholic traditions, and never\nvery remotely divided by characteristics--will probably serve but\nas the origination of a superior race: at least physiological\nlaws give no ground to fear a deterioration. But we have here a\nnumerous distinct race which must ever remain distinct, and which\nincreases more rapidly than the white population.\n\nI am not aware that history furnishes an instance of the just\n_reconciliation_ of two distinctly different races of men\nupon the same soil, except by the aid of the Catholic religion.\nIn Mexico and in South America the Catholic religion is\nestablishing such a reconciliation, and it is the only\nharmonizing element in those societies.\n\nIt is impossible to say what peaceful solution of the problem\nwill be reached here; but the ultimate destiny of the African\nblood planted and rooted on this soil will be either adjudicated\nupon Catholic principles, or else philanthropic theories, veil\nthem as we may, will apply to the evil the remedy still worse of\ncivil war. Questions like this demand a guide to conscience and a\nclear and uniform exposition of moral obligations.\n\nThe United States government has never denied the due spiritual\nauthority of the Head of the Church--has never done aught to\ninfringe his just prerogatives. There has never been enacted here\nan original or formal protest against the rights of the Apostolic\nSee.\n\nThis people have never thrown off the claims of the Catholic\nreligion, and they have not rejected it. The nation is not under\nthe ban of a misguided defiance of the right spiritual authority.\n\nIn no sense, therefore, has this nation as a nation compromised\nitself as against those fundamental principles of unity and\nliberty of which the Catholic Church is, in the spiritual order,\nthe true and only representative. As from her and her alone it\ncan receive the perpetual impulse of a free, progressive,\nnational development, so in yielding to her influence is it\nguilty of no inconstancy to its organtic law, of no infidelity to\nits historic past. The destiny which it is destined to accomplish\nin the political depends upon the position which it voluntarily\nassumes in the moral order, and this in turn upon the source from\nwhich it drinks in the springs of its religious life.\n\nIt needs but to be true to its origin, its constitution, its\nequity, and its ancestral virtues to become and to remain the\nforemost of the nations of the earth. But truth to these\nnecessitates fidelity to her from whom visibly and directly not\nonly they, but all that is noble and elevating in art or arms or\ncivilization has originated, and in whom they have found an\nimpregnable defender--the Catholic Church, the Communion of the\nApostolic See.\n\n ----------\n\n{417}\n\n Translated From The Historisch-politische Blaetter.\n\n Schaff's Church History.\n\n\nIn the year 1854 appeared a work of great merit, entitled _A\nHistory of the Apostolic Church_, together with a _General\nIntroduction to Church History,_ from the pen of Philip\nSchaff, a professor in the Lutheran Seminary at Mercersburg, and\na literary colleague of Dr. Nevin, called \"the American\nproto-martyr of the suffering church.\" At that time, Professor\nSchaff, who is a native of Graub\u00fcndten, in Switzerland, was\nmaking a long stay in Europe. In the same year he published two\nother works--_St. Augustine_, Berlin, 1854, pp. 129, a\nbrochure or precursor of the present large work, and\n_America--the Political, Social, and Ecclesiastico-Religious\nCondition of the United States_, which is a continuous eulogy\nof his adopted country. That Dr. Schaff has for thirteen years\nzealously prosecuted the study of ecclesiastical history, the\nunusual size of the work before us sufficiently evinces. It is\ndated from the Bible House in New York, January, 1867, and\ndedicated to the teachers and friends of the author, August\nTholuck, Julius M\u00fcller of Halle, J. A. Dorner of Berlin, and J.\nP. Lange of Bonn.\n\nFrom the preface and dedication we learn that Schaff studied\nexegesis in T\u00fcbingen under Dr. Schmid, history under Dr. Bauer,\nand attended the lectures on systematic theology of Dr. Dorner.\nAt this time he resided in Halle, \"under the hospitable roof\" of\nTholuck, and by him and Julius M\u00fcller he was encouraged to choose\nan academical career. Since his residence in North America he has\ntwice visited Europe, in 1854 and in 1865. His friends frequently\nwished him to obtain a professor's chair in Germany, but he could\nnot determine to separate himself from a land in which since his\ntwenty-fifth year he had found a second home, and desired his\ndays to close in the \"noble mediatorship between the Evangelical\nChristianity of the German and English languages.\" His book shows\nthat he has defended in America, not altogether unworthily, the\nGerman theology--\"the true, liberal, catholic, and evangelical\ntheology.\"\n\nAn English translation of the present history of the ancient\nchurch, entitled _History of the Christian Church; or, History\nof Ancient Christianity,_ appeared at the same time. Editions\nof this work were simultaneously published in New York and\nEdinburgh, in the years 1859 and 1862. It is indeed a\ncontinuation of _The Apostolic Church_, but, like it, a\nseparate work \"it contains the fruits of twenty years' active\nlabor as professor of church history in Mercersburg,\nPennsylvania.\"\n\nDr. Schaff remained in New York two years, for the purpose of\navailing himself of the use of its larger libraries. Here the\nAstor Library was at his command.\n{418}\nThis library, founded in the year 1850, by the German, John Jacob\nAstor, with a capital of four hundred thousand dollars, has been\nextensively increased by his son. It contains in a magnificent\nbuilding one hundred and fifty thousand carefully selected\nvolumes, among which are many costly and classic works on all\nbranches of literature. He had also access to the library of the\nUnion Theological Seminary, \"which has purchased the Van Ess\nLibrary, (that of the well-known Catholic Bible translator,) with\na collection of the fathers of the Church and the great learned\ncompilations; it has since been increased by the addition of the\nlibrary of E. Robinson, and the productions of recent Protestant\ntheology. It is worthy of remark that the libraries of our\ncelebrated German church historians find their way to America.\nThus, the Neander library has been for a length of time in the\nBaptist Seminary at Rochester; the Thilo Library in Yale College,\nNew Haven; and the Niedner Library in the Congregationalist\nSeminary at Andover. Neander's library, together with the\nmanuscript of his church history, are shelved in a separate room\nat Rochester.\" This is unfortunately the customary way in which\nthe important libraries of German theologians find their way\neither to England or North America, or, at least, are sold under\nthe hammer.\n\nThe author honors the truth when he acknowledges and prefers the\nolder and mostly Catholic investigators to the labors of\nProtestant inquirers. He mentions the Benedictines in the\neditions of the fathers of the church, the Bollandists in\nhagiography, Mansi and Hardouin in the collection of the\ncouncils, Gallandi, Dupin, Ceillier, Oudin, Cave, and J. A.\nFabricius in patrology and the history of church literature; in\nparticular branches he mentions Tillemont, Peteau, (Petavius,)\nBull, Bingham, and Walch as his favorite guides. Whether he will\nprepare for the press his numerous manuscripts on the church\nhistory of the middle ages and modern times, the author refers to\na distant and indefinite time. It will be done if \"God grants him\ntime and strength.\" For the present, his leisure time will be\nemployed with the enlarged English edition of Lange's biblical\nworks.\n\nThe peculiarity of our author consists in working up and turning\nto advantage the studies of others. In Schaff we find little or\nno independent research, for which he needs both time and\ninclination, but he excels in an exact and erudite employment of\nthat which has been prepared by others. We are not finding fault\nwith this, but rather approve of and commend it. In more personal\nand independent investigation, the present lacks the results of\nhis previous intellectual labors. Dr. Schaff may make these once\nmore respected; indeed, he avails himself more extensively of the\nlabors of Catholic authors than any other modern Protestant\nhistorian.\n\nIn a book so rich in its contents, we are obliged to confine\nourselves to a notice of special points only; we prefer this\nlimitation to an estimate of the general contents, which of\ncourse embrace the ordinary well-known topics. The author treats\nof the inner life of the church, monasticism, ecclesiastical\ncustoms, worship, and Christian art more minutely than any of his\npredecessors.\n\nThe author discusses more briefly than we expected the two\nimportant chapters on the church's care of the poor, and of\nprisoners and slaves.\n{419}\nThe question of slavery is considered in paragraphs 89 and 152,\nin _The History of the Apostolic Church_, paragraph 113, and\nin a separate treatise published in 1861, _Slavery and the\nBible_. More than thirty-four years ago, as M\u00f6hler for the\nfirst time treated of this subject, he could say that he had\nsearched with ardor both large and small works on church history\nfor the purpose of instructing himself on the mode of the\nabolition of slavery, but all to no purpose; so that here he was\ncompelled to open the way himself. Frequently since that time\nthis question has been historically treated, but by no means\nexhausted. With a few words Dr. Schaff dismisses the important\ndecrees of the Emperor Constantine in the years 316 and 321. He\nonly remarks: \"Constantine facilitated their liberation, granted\nSunday to them, and gave ecclesiastics the privilege of\nemancipating their slaves of their own will and without the\nwitnesses and ceremonies which were otherwise necessary.\" Here he\ncites _Corpus Juris_, 1. i. art. 13, 1. 1 and 2. The fact\nis, that the Emperor Constantine issued a command, April 18th,\n321, to Bishop Hosius, of Cordova, according to which the\nliberation of slaves in the Christian churches should have the\nsame effect as manumission under the Roman law. The principal law\nof this decree reads thus: \"Those who liberate their slaves in\nthe bosom of the church are declared to have done this with the\nsame authority as if it were done by the Roman state, with her\naccustomed solemnities.\" This statute may be found in the\n_Theodosian Code,_ lib. iv. tit. 7, _De Manumiss. in\nEcclesia_; Lex 2, _Codex Justin. De his, qui in Ecclesia\nmanumittuntur_. It is mentioned by Sozomen in the _Historia\nTripartita_, and by Nicephorus Callisti, vii. 18. It does not\nappear to us that Dr. Schaff has seen the text of the decree; for\nthis does not refer only to the slaves of ecclesiastics, but to\nslaves in general. Whoever declared in the church that his slaves\nhad received their liberty, they were from that fact free. Schaff\nis of the opinion that M\u00f6hler, (who was also ignorant of this\ndecree,) in his able treatise on the abolition of slavery, has\noverestimated the influence of the sermons of St. Chrysostom on\nthe subject, and we cannot say that he is entirely incorrect. On\nthe other hand, the latter raised the question of the so-called\n_inner_ liberation of the slaves, that is, their Christian\ntreatment, the solicitude and care of Christian masters for their\nservants. The emancipation of slaves who were not prepared for\nliberty was always injurious to the slaves themselves, and not at\nall promotive of the general welfare.\n\nDr. Schaff treats the life and teaching of St. Augustine with\nbecoming respect. He does him, however, a great injustice when he\nmakes him teach, after the example of Tertullian and St. Cyprian,\n[Footnote 139] a symbolical doctrine of the Last Supper, which at\nthe same time includes a real spiritual repast through faith, and\nthus in this respect he makes him approach the Calvinistic or\northodox reformed doctrine. St. Augustine a Calvinist in the\ndoctrine of the Eucharist! But the few passages which Dr. Schaff\nadvances for this purpose prove directly the faith of St.\nAugustine in the real, not in the symbolical, presence of Christ\nin the sacrament of the altar. In his twenty-sixth tract on John\nwe read: \"Who abides not in Christ, neither eats his flesh, nor\ndrinks his blood, even though he should press with his teeth the\nsacrament of the body and blood of Christ.\"\n\n [Footnote 139: It is Dr. Schaff, and not the author of the\n article, who attributes this doctrine to the two writers\n mentioned.--ED. C. W.]\n\n{420}\n\nOur Lord says: \"He who eateth my body, and drinketh my blood,\nabideth in me, and I in him.\" (John vi. 57.) Jesus refers to\nthose who receive it with living faith and devotion, since the\nmere corporal partaking of the Eucharist is no abiding in Christ;\ntherefore St. Augustine could say, and so can every Catholic\nteacher at the present time, \"Who abides not in Christ, neither\neats (truly) his flesh, nor drinks his blood, even though he\nshould press with his teeth the sacrament of the body and blood\nof Christ.\" The same doctrine is contained in the familiar hymn,\n\"_Sumunt boni, sumunt mali, sorte tamen inoequali, vitae vel\ninteritus_\" [Footnote 140]\n\n [Footnote 140: \"The good and the bad receive, yet\n with the different lot of life or of destruction.\"]\n\nThe wicked, then, who receive the body, receive it not to life,\nbut to judgment, for Christ lives not in them. With no better\nreason can Schaff adduce the words of St. Augustine in the\npreceding tract: \"Why prepare your teeth and your stomach?\nBelieve and eat.\" Every Catholic teacher must declare the same;\nit is not the corporal participation, but the spiritual\ndisposition, which is faith and love, which must be impressed\nupon the mind of the faithful in receiving the Holy Eucharist.\n\nDr. Schaff is quite unfortunate in adducing the passage, (_De\npeccator, meritis et rem_. ii. 25,) \"Although it is not the\nbody of Christ, yet it is holy, since it is a sacrament.\" The\nimpression is created in the mind of the reader that St.\nAugustine here denies in plain words the real presence of Christ.\nWhen we examine more closely, it is found that the question is\nnot of the Eucharist at all, but of the blessed bread called\nEulogia, and of which catechumens were allowed to partake. The\nentire passage runs thus: \"Sanctification is not of one mode; for\nI think that even catechumens are sanctified in a certain way\nthrough the sign of Christ and the prayer of the imposition of\nhands; and that which they receive, although it is not the body\nof Christ, yet it is holy, more holy than the food by which we\nare nourished, since it is a sacrament.\" Here the saint\ndistinguishes three kinds of food. First, that which is used for\nsustenance; second, the Eulogia, or the blessed bread, which\ncatechumens received after they were set apart for the laying on\nof hands and blessings--this is called a sacrament; and third,\nthe Eucharistic bread, which he calls the \"body of the Lord.\"\nThis blessed bread (which twenty years ago the author saw handed\naround in French churches) is indeed holier than common bread, a\nvery sacrament, or, as we would say, a _sacramental_, but\nstill it is not the body of the Lord. The real presence is, then,\ntaught in this passage, and Schaff would have been guilty of a\nfalsification if he had read it in its proper connection. For his\ncredit let us suppose that he has not done so. We find this\nquotation in Professor Schmid's _Compendium of the History of\nDogma_, the first edition of which was often before Dr.\nSchaff. Schmid at least permits the truth to appear (second\nedition, p. 109) when he quotes St. Augustine saying, \"That which\nthey receive, although it is not the body of Christ, yet it is\nholy,\" etc. Since we find so many passages in St. Augustine,\nwhich prove his belief in the real presence of our Lord in the\nBlessed Sacrament, we are bound to explain the other passages, in\nwhich he speaks of a figurative partaking, in conformity with\nthem.\n\n{421}\n\nThese defects, however, do not prevent us from heartily\nacknowledging the excellence of Professor Schaff's work, and\nexpressing the hope that the author may employ his undoubted\ntalents in the service of Christian truth.\n\n ----------\n\n Penitence.\n\n A Sonnet.\n\n\n A sorrow that for shame had hid her face,\n Soared to Heaven's gate, and knelt in penance there\n Beneath the dusk cloud of her own wet hair,\n Weeping, as who would fain some deed erase\n That blots in dread eclipse baptismal grace:\n Like a felled tree with all its branches fair\n She lay--her forehead on the ivory stair--\n Low murmuring, \"Just art Thou, but I am base.\"\n Then saw I in my spirit's unsealed ken\n How Heaven's bright hosts thrilled like the gems of morn\n When May winds on the incense-bosomed thorn\n The diamonds change to ruby. Magdalen\n Arose, and kissed the Saviour's feet once more,\n And to that suffering soul his peace and pardon bore.\n\n Aubrey De Vere.\n\n ----------\n\n{422}\n\n New Publications.\n\n Cradle Lands.\n By Lady Herbert.\n With Illustrations.\n New-York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.\n\nWe welcome the appearance of this handsome volume with especial\nheartiness and interest for at least two reasons. It is the first\nattempt ever made by a Catholic publisher in this country to\nproduce an illustrated work, of other than a strictly religious\ncharacter, suitable as a holiday gift and valuable at the same\ntime from its intrinsic merit; and it is one of the few good\nnarratives in the English language of travel in the Holy Land\nwritten by a devout Catholic, and filled consequently with a\ngenuine religious spirit. We have had Christmas books, annuals,\netc., some of them excellent in their way; but their way was\nrather a narrow one, and we have never until now attempted to\nrival the Protestant publishing-houses on their own ground.\n_Cradle Lands_, however, is just the book which hundreds of\nour friends will be glad to buy for presents, and hundreds more\nwill be glad to have for their own use. It is very handsomely\nmade, is clearly printed on excellent paper, and well bound; and\nthe illustrations, faithfully reproduced from the London edition,\nare everything that could be desired.\n\nThe book is well worth the pains that have been spent on it. Lady\nHerbert is an experienced traveller; with a quick eye for\nwhatever is interesting, and a style sufficiently lively to make\nher chapters easy reading. She has not the graceful pen of a\nKinglake or a Curtis; but she is rarely or never dull, and her\npower of description is by no means contemptible. But, as we said\nbefore, a peculiar interest belongs to her narrative on account\nof the spirit of Catholic piety which permeates it--not breaking\nout inopportunely in religious commonplaces, but coloring the\nscenes she paints with a graceful light of faith, and enticing us\nto look upon the land of our Lord not with the eyes of modern\nscepticism, but in the devout spirit in which a good Christian\nought to look at it. She travelled with a party of friends from\nEgypt through Palestine, visiting the holy places, and afterward\npassing into Asia Minor. She describes not only the venerable\nrelics of the past scattered through those sacred spots, and the\ncondition of the modern native population, but the state of\nChristianity, the convents, schools, asylums, and other religious\nfoundations, in which she appears to have found frequent\nhospitality. We need not follow her closely over ground which, in\nits principal features, is already familiar to most of our\nreaders; but, as specimens of her style, we shall reproduce a few\nepisodical passages. Here is a picture of harem life, a subject\ntrite enough, yet always fresh:\n\n \"Before leaving Cairo, the English ladies were invited to spend\n an evening in the royal harem, and accordingly, at eight\n o'clock, found themselves in a beautiful garden, with\n fountains, lit by a multitude of variegated lamps, and were\n conducted by black eunuchs through trellis-covered walks to a\n large marble-paved hall, where about forty Circassian slaves\n met them, and escorted them to a saloon fitted up with divans,\n at the end of which reclined the pacha's wives. One of them was\n singularly beautiful, and exquisitely dressed in pink velvet\n and ermine, and priceless jewels. Another very fine figure was\n that of the mother, a venerable old princess, looking exactly\n like a Rembrandt just come out of its frame. Great respect was\n paid to her, and when she came in every one rose. The guests\n being seated, or rather squatted, on the divan, each was\n supplied with long pipes, coffee in exquisitely jewelled cups,\n and sweetmeats, the one succeeding the other without\n intermission the whole night. The Circassian slaves, with\n folded hands and downcast eyes, stood before their mistresses\n to supply their wants. Some of them were very pretty, and\n dressed with great richness and taste. Then began a concert of\n Turkish instruments, which sounded unpleasing to English ears,\n followed by a dance, which was graceful and pretty; but this\n again followed by a play, in which half the female slaves were\n dressed up as men, and the coarseness of which it is impossible\n to describe. The wife of the foreign minister kindly acted as\n interpreter for the English ladies, and through her means some\n kind of conversation was kept up. But the ignorance of the\n ladies in the harem is unbelievable. They can neither read nor\n write; their whole day is employed in dressing, bathing,\n eating, drinking, and smoking.\n\n{423}\n\n \"Before the close of the evening, Princess A----, addressing\n herself to the mother of the party, through her interpreter,\n spoke very earnestly and seriously about her daughters, (then\n twelve and fourteen years of age,) remonstrating with her on\n their being still unmarried, and adding: 'Next Friday is the\n most auspicious of all days in the year for betrothal. I will\n have six of the handsomest and straightest-eyebrowed pachas\n here for you to choose from.' In vain the English lady refused\n the intended honor, pleading that in her country marriages were\n not contracted at so early an age, to say nothing of certain\n differences of race and of faith! The princess was not to be\n diverted from her purpose, and persisted in arranging the whole\n of the Friday's ceremonial. Let us hope that the young\n 'straight-eyebrowed pachas' found some other fair ladies, to\n console them for the non-appearance of their wished-for English\n brides on the appointed day. The _soir\u00e9e_ lasted till two\n o'clock in the morning, when the royalty withdrew; and the\n English ladies returned home, feeling the whole time as if they\n had been seeing a play acted from a scene in the _Arabian\n Nights_, so difficult was it to realize that such a kind of\n existence was possible in the present century.\"\n\nThe original plan of our travellers was to proceed from Cairo\nacross the desert, but they were afterward obliged to choose an\neasier route on account of the sickness of one of the party.\nPreparations for the desert journey, however, had been made, and\nthere is a pleasant description of their outfit:\n\n \"At last, thanks to the kindness of an English gentleman long\n resident in Cairo, Mr. A----, five tents were got together and\n pitched, on approval, in the square opposite the hotel. One was\n a gorgeous affair, sky-blue, with red-and-white devices all\n over it, looking very like the tent of a travelling wild-beast\n show. But as it was the only large and roomy one, and was\n capable of containing the four ladies and their beds and\n bedding, it was finally decided to keep it, and to make it the\n drawing-room by day, reserving the more modest ones for the\n gentlemen of the party, as well as for the servants and the\n cooking apparatus. Their numbers were so great, with the\n 'tent-pitchers' and the other necessary camp-followers, that\n our travellers decided to dispense with chairs and\n tables--rather to the despair of a rheumatic member of the\n company!--and to content themselves with squatting on their\n carpets for their meals in true oriental fashion, and making\n use of the two wicker-baskets (which were to sling on each side\n of the mules, and contained the one dress for Sunday allowed to\n each lady) for dressing and wash-hand stands. A cord fastened\n across the tents at night served as a hanging wardrobe, to\n prevent their getting wet on the (sometimes) damp ground; some\n tin jugs and basins, with a smarter set in brass of a beautiful\n shape, (called in Cairo a '_tisht_' and '_ibreek_,')\n together with a few '_nargeeleh_' pipes for the use of\n their guests on state occasions, completed their furnishing\n arrangements. They had brought from their boats a 'Union Jack,'\n so as to place themselves under the protection of their\n country's flag, and also an elaborate 'Wyvern,' the fabrication\n of which, in gorgeous green, with a curly tail, had afforded\n them great amusement in their start four months before.\n\n \"This life in tents is a free and charming way of existence,\n and, except in wet weather, was one of unmixed enjoyment to the\n whole party. The time spent by the leaders of the expedition in\n providing these necessary articles was occupied by the younger\n ones in buying presents in the bazaars: now struggling through\n the goldsmiths' quarter, (the narrowest in all Cairo,) where\n you buy your gold by the carat, and then have it manufactured\n before your eyes into whatever form you please; now trying on\n bright '_kaffirs_' made of the pure Mecca silk, and\n generally of brown and yellow shades, with the '_akgal_,'\n a kind of cord of camel's-hair which binds them round the head;\n or else the graceful burnous, with their beautifully blended\n colors and soft camel's-hair texture; or the many\n bright-colored slippers; or, leaving the silk and stuff bazaar,\n threading their way through the stalls containing what we\n should call in England 'curiosities,' and selecting the\n beautiful little silver filagree or enamel cups called\n '_zarfs_,' which hold the delicate, tiny Dresden ones\n within--meant to contain that most delicious of all drinks,\n the genuine Eastern coffee, made without sugar or milk, but as\n unlike the horrible beverage known by that name in England as\n can well be imagined!\n{424}\n In the same stalls were to be found beautiful Turkish\n rosaries, of jasper and agate, or sweet-scented woods, with\n long-shaped bottles of attar of roses, enamelled\n '_nargeelehs_' and amber-mouthed pipes, and octagonal\n little tables made of tortoise-shell inlaid with\n mother-of-pearl.\"\n\nHere is a good story of Egyptian law-courts:\n\n \"A certain French gentleman entrusted an Englishman with \u00a390 to\n buy a horse for him. The Englishman, accordingly, gave the\n money to a native, whom he considered thoroughly trustworthy,\n with orders to go into Arabia and there purchase the animal.\n The Arab, however, spent most of the money in his own devices,\n and returned to Cairo, after a few months, with a wretched\n horse, such as would appear at a Spanish bull-fight. The\n Englishman, immensely disgusted, returned the \u00a390, to his\n French friend, simply saying that he had failed in executing\n his commission; but he determined to try and recover it from\n the Arab. So he went and told the whole matter to the governor\n of Cairo, who appointed his deputy as judge. While the case was\n being tried, dinner-time came; and the judge, the prosecutor,\n and the prisoner, all sat down together, and dined in a\n friendly way. No embarrassment was caused thereby; but after\n dinner, the judge, turning to the prisoner, quietly said: 'Can\n you pay the Frank gentleman the money you owe him?' On\n receiving a simple reply in the negative, the judge added,\n 'Then you had better go off at once to prison, and delay this\n gentleman no longer.' The Arab went without a word, and\n remained in this miserable place (for the prisons are infamous)\n for two months, after which his brother took his place for him.\n Finally the money was paid by instalments.\"\n\nWith the following beautiful description of a \"Good-Friday\nservice at Jerusalem,\" we commend Lady Herbert's book to the\nfavor of our readers:\n\n \"It is a beautiful and solemn service, in which even\n Protestants are seen to join with unwonted fervor; and on this\n special day it was crowded to excess. When it was over, the two\n friends returned to the altar of St. Mary Magdalen, the words\n and tones of the hymn still lingering in their hearts:\n\n 'Jesu! dulce refugium,\n Spes una te quaerentium.\n Per Magdalenae meritum\n Peccati solve debitum.'\n\nTo those who are sorrowful and desponding at the sense of their\nown unworthiness and continual shortcomings, there is a peculiar\nattraction and help in the thoughts of this saint, apart from all\nthe rest. The perfections of the Blessed Virgin dazzle us by\ntheir very brightness, and make us, as it were, despair of\nfollowing her example. But in the Magdalen we have the picture of\none who, like us, was tempted and sinned and fell, and yet, by\nthe mercy of God and the force of the mighty love he put into her\nheart, was forgiven and accepted for the sake of that very love\nhe had infused.\n\n \"Presently the English stranger rose, and, approaching one of\n the Franciscan monks, begged for the benediction of her\n crucifix and other sacred objects, according to the short form\n in use at the shrine of the Holy Sepulchre; a privilege kindly\n and courteously granted to her. And now the shades of evening\n are darkening the aisles of the sacred building, and the\n pilgrims are gathered in a close and serried mass in the Chapel\n of Calvary, waiting for the ceremony which is to close the\n solemn offices of that awful day. By the kindness of the duke,\n who had been their companion in the Via Crucis, the two ladies\n were saved from the crowd, and conducted by a private staircase\n from the Greek chapel to the right of the altar of Calvary. The\n whole is soon wrapped in profound darkness, save where the\n light is thrown on a crucifix the size of life, erected close\n to the fatal spot. You might have fancied yourself alone but\n for the low murmur and swaying to and fro of the dense crowd\n kneeling on the floor of the chapel. Presently a Franciscan\n monk stepped forward, and, leaving his brethren prostrate at\n the foot of the altar, mounted on a kind of estrade at the\n back, and proceeded to detach the figure of our Blessed Lord\n from the cross. As each nail was painfully and slowly drawn\n out, he held it up, exclaiming, 'Ecce, dulces clavos!' exposing\n it at the same time to the view of the multitude, who,\n breathless and expectant, seemed riveted to the spot, with\n their upturned faces fixed on the symbol represented to them.\n The supernatural and majestic stillness and silence of that\n great mass of human beings was one of the most striking\n features of the whole scene. Presently a ladder was brought,\n and the sacred figure lifted down, as in Rubens's famous\n picture of the 'Deposition,' into the arms of the monks at the\n foot of the cross.\n{425}\n As the last nail was detached, and the head fell forward as of\n a dead body, a low deep sob burst from the very souls of the\n kneeling crowd. Tenderly and reverently the Franciscan fathers\n wrapped it in fine linen, and placed it in the arms of the\n patriarch, who, kneeling, received it, and carried it down to\n the Holy Sepulchre, the procession chanting the antiphon,\n 'Acceperunt Joseph et Nicodemus corpus Jesu; et ligaverunt\n illud linteis cum aromatibus, sicut mos est Judaeis sepelire.'\n The crowd followed eagerly, yet reverently, the body to its\n last resting-place. It is a representation which might\n certainly be painful if not conducted throughout with\n exceeding care. But done as it is at Jerusalem, it can but\n deepen in the minds of all beholders the feelings of intense\n reverence, adoration, and awe with which they draw near to the\n scene of Christ's sufferings, and enable them more perfectly\n to realize the mystery of that terrible Passion which he bore\n for our sakes in his own body on the tree.\n\n \"And with this touching ceremony the day is over; the crowd of\n pilgrims disperses, to meet on the morrow in the same spot for\n the more consoling offices of Easter-eve.\n\n \"But in many a heart the memory of this day will never be\n effaced; and will, it is humbly hoped, bear its life-long fruit\n in increased devotion to the sacred humanity of their Lord, and\n in greater detestation of those sins which could only be\n cancelled by so tremendous an atonement.\"\n\n ------\n\n The Bird.\n By Jules Michelet.\n With 210 illustrations by Giacomelli.\n New York: T. Nelson & Sons. 1868.\n\nIt is not often that nature finds so charming an interpreter as\nMichelet. He throws around us the very perfume of the flowers;\nand his birds not only sing, but sing to us, speak to us, and\nbecome our dearest friends. Reading, we forget the close walls of\nthe city, the weary noise, the heavy air of overcrowded human\nlife; we follow the birds in their flight, drink in their spirit\nof liberty, joy, tenderness, and love, till, with Michelet, we\nalmost give them a personality, a soul. It is difficult to cull\nfrom a bed of choice flowers a single specimen, for one will\nappeal to us through its beauty of form, another of color,\nanother by its delicacy and fragrance; so here, where every page\nis charming, we know not how to choose between the grandeur and\nmagnificence of the tropical forests, or the stern and silent\nmelancholy of the polar regions, or the more home-like charm of\nscenes that we know. The last, perhaps, cannot fail to please.\nHere is his description of an autumnal migration:\n\n \"Bright was the morning sky, but the wind blew from La Vend\u00e9e.\n My pines bewailed their fate, and from my afflicted cedar\n issued a low, deep voice of mourning. The ground was strewn\n with fruit, which we all set to work to gather. Gradually the\n weather grew cloudy, the sky assumed a dull leaden gray, the\n wind sank, all was death-like. It was then, at about four\n o'clock, that simultaneously arrived, from all points, from the\n wood, from the Erdre, from the city, from the Loire, from the\n S\u00e8vre, infinite legions, darkening the day, which settled on\n the church roof, with a myriad voices, a myriad cries, debates,\n discussions. Though, ignorant of their language, it was not\n difficult for us to perceive that they differed among\n themselves. It may be that the youngest, beguiled by the warm\n breath of autumn, would fain have lingered longer. But the\n wiser and more experienced travellers insisted upon departure.\n They prevailed; the black masses, moving all at once like a\n huge cloud, winged their flight toward the south-east, probably\n toward Italy. They had scarcely accomplished three hundred\n leagues (four or five hours' flight) before all the cataracts\n of heaven were let loose to deluge the earth; for a moment we\n thought it was a flood. Sheltered in our house, which shook\n with the furious blast, we admired the wisdom of the winged\n soothsayers, which had so prudently anticipated the annual\n epoch of migration.\"\n\nThis book was to the author a sort of oasis; it was undertaken or\nrather grew up in the interval of a rest from historical labors;\nit was for him a refreshment, a rest; and such it could not fail\nto prove to any one of us in the midst of the weary cares of\nevery-day life. Unfortunately, Michelet has not interpreted\nhistory so successfully as he has nature, and the results of his\nlabor are far less praiseworthy than the results of his\nrecreation.\n\n{426}\n\n_The Bird_ is most beautifully\nillustrated by Giacomelli, Dor\u00e9's\ncollaborateur on his celebrated Bible.\n\n ------\n\n Tablets.\n By A. Bronson Alcott.\n Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1868.\n\nNo one who has ever enjoyed the pleasure of an interview with the\n\"Orphic Alcott,\" and felt the charm which his rare conversational\npowers throw around every subject to which they are directed, can\nfail to find a renewal of that pleasure while perusing the genial\nvolume which has just emanated from his too infrequent pen.\nElegant in its external garniture, it brings upon its pages the\nfaint odor of the roses that bloom on the broad Concord lawns,\nthe rustle of the leaves that shelter the secluded nook in which\nthe writer finds \"the leisure and the peace of age,\" the cool air\nthat floats across clear Walden-water, filling both library and\nstudio with its bracing breath; so giving to the reader, familiar\nwith the scenes amid which these _Tablets_ were inscribed, a\ndouble satisfaction in the thoughts which they suggest and in the\nmemories which they revive.\n\nThe book itself consists of two series of essays: the first,\n\"Practical;\" the second, \"Speculative.\" The former will most\ninterest the ordinary reader. The latter will be appreciated by\nfew who are not otherwise instructed in the peculiar views of\ntheir author. The \"Practical\" essays are entitled \"The Garden,\"\n\"Recreation,\" \"Fellowship,\" \"Friendship,\" \"Culture,\" \"Books,\"\n\"Counsels,\" and each is subdivided into different heads.\nHackneyed as several of these subjects appear to be, the reader\nwill experience no sense of weariness while following Mr. Alcott\nover them. Were not his ideas original, \"the method of the man\"\nwould be alone sufficient to give an interest of no common order\nto his well-weighed words. Many of his aphorisms are like \"apples\nof gold in pictures of silver;\" and some deserve to become\nhousehold truths with all thoughtful men. Such is his verdict\nupon political partisanship on page 148; his strong, courageous\nplea for individuality on page 145; and his high view of\neducation on pages 103 _et seq_. From these and various\nother passages, which space alone forbids us to distinguish, we\nmay say that, if \"a man's speech is the measure of his culture,\"\nthere are few men into whose sphere one can be brought whose\nkindliness and courtesy, whose flowing spirits and sprightly wit,\ncan more captivate and charm than the gray-haired student who\nsits in the arbors, groves, and gardens, and day by day treasures\nup on the tablets of his diary the choice things of mankind, and\nillustrates them with choice memories of his own.\n\nAt this period of Mr. Alcott's life, we anticipated, in reading\nhis _Tablets_, which speak so charmingly of this world,\nfinding some light shed on the world to come. It makes us sad to\nthink we found nothing.\n\n ------\n\n\n A New Practical Hebrew Grammar,\n With Hebrew-English And English-Hebrew Exercises,\n And Hebrew Chrestomathy.\n By Solomon Deutsch, A.M., Ph.D.\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1868.\n\nText-books should be valued according to the perfection of the\nmethod adopted, and the precision and arrangement of details,\nrather than on account of abundance of matter or exhaustive\nexplanations. Books which contain copious treatises are useful,\nand even necessary, for the master, but injurious to the\nadvancement of the pupil. The author of the school-book should\naim at arranging the elements in the department in which he\nwrites so that the scholar may, with the least trouble, acquire a\nknowledge of the rules, principles, and leading features of the\nsubject. Students should not be expected to learn everything in\nschool. The professor who aims at imparting a complete knowledge,\nor all he may know on a subject, will confuse his students, be\nfound too exacting, and will be finally punished by\ndisappointment. School exercise was very appropriately called\n_disciplina_ by the Romans, a term which implied rather a\ntraining in the manner in which the various branches should be\nstudied, than the attainment of their mastery.\n\n{427}\n\nMr. Deutsch's Hebrew course, according to the principles just\nenunciated, is beyond doubt the best schoolbook of its kind that\nhas appeared from the American press. R\u00f6diger's revision of\nGesenius's Grammar, translated from the German by Conant, is much\ntoo extensive for beginners, and was never intended by its\neminent author to fall into the hands of the uninitiated. Yet it\nis commonly used in the colleges and seminaries of this country\nas an introductory treatise. The same objection should be urged,\nin union with others, against Green's Grammar; while his\nchrestomathy is more of an exegetical than a grammatical\ntreatise. The student is frequently terrified from the study by\nthe vast array of particulars, and he who has courage to\npersevere must learn to shut his eyes to the greater portion of\nthese works, in order to clearly discern that which is truly\nvaluable in them.\n\nMr. Deutsch has succeeded, to a considerable extent, in giving a\nconcise and lucid exposition of the elements of the Hebrew\nlanguage, but has greatly diminished, if not destroyed, the\nusefulness of his grammar as a class-book by introducing his\nelaborate system of \"Hebrew-English and English-Hebrew\nexercises.\" These exercises, which compose the greater portion of\nhis work, will be found to be merely cumbersome material, which\nwill prevent its adoption in the schools.\n\nLiving languages, or such as are partially so, might be, perhaps\nshould be, learned by acquiring a facility of rendering the\nphrases of one's mother tongue into those of the language he is\nendeavoring to acquire; but it is not easy to understand how such\na readiness can be, or need be, acquired in Hebrew, which is\nnowhere spoken, and living in no form if not in its degenerate\noffspring, the rabbinic of the Portuguese, German, or Polish\nJews.\n\nThose who are looking for a concise and lucid exposition of the\nelements of Hebrew will not be pleased with Mr. Deutsch's\nrepetition of the nine declensions of nouns, as given by\nGesenius. This constitutes an additional encumbrance to the work,\nnot unlike that which would arise in a Latin grammar from an\nattempt to form a new declension from each of the various\ninflections embraced in the third.\n\nA Hebrew course for Catholic schools has been supplied, as to the\nmore important part, and the portion requiring the greater amount\nof labor, by Paul L. B. Drach, in his _Catholicum Lexicon\nHebraicum et Chaldaicum_. Mr. Drach had been a Jewish rabbi in\nParis before his conversion to the Church, and as he was an\neminent oriental scholar, the last Pontiff, Gregory XVI.,\nrequested him to publish a Hebrew lexicon for the use of Catholic\nschools. His work resulted in a corrected and enlarged edition of\nGesenius' Lexicon, from which all Jewish and rationalistic errors\nwere excluded. It received the special approbation of Pius IX. in\n1847, and was published by the greatest promoter of\necclesiastical literature in this century, Abb\u00e9 Mign\u00e9. This is\nundoubtedly the best work of its kind, and its complement,\nconsisting of a grammar and chrestomathy, is all that is wanting\nto constitute a course of Hebrew for the Catholic schools of this\ncountry.\n\n ------\n\n The New Adam; or, Ten Dialogues on our\n Redemption and the Necessity of Self-Denial.\n Edited by the Very Rev. Z. Druon, V.G., and approved\n by the Right Rev. Bishop of Burlington.\n Claremont, N. H. 1868.\n\nThis little book was first published in Paris, A.D. 1662. From a\nsecond and more complete edition, the present translation was\nprepared and edited. The subjects of the \"Ten Dialogues\" are as\nfollows:\n\n I. The State of Original Righteousness.\n\n II. Adam's Fall.\n\n III. The Penance of Adam and Eve after their Fall.\n\n IV. The State of Penance we are in is preferable, in some\n respects, to the earthly Paradise.\n\n V. The Infinite Perfection with which Jesus Christ, the new\n Adam, performed the penance imposed on the old Adam.\n\n VI. Self-Denial.\n\n VII. Obligation of Self-Denial.\n\n VIII. Imitation of the Self-Denial of Christ.\n\n IX. Scriptural texts concerning Self-Denial.\n\n X. The Self-Denial of Jesus Christ.\n\nFrom this view of its contents, and the cursory glance we have\nbeen able to bestow upon its pages, we believe it to be, as its\neditor claims, \"well grounded on the Holy Scriptures, sound in\ndoctrine, remarkable for its clearness and depth of thought, full\nof pious and practical reflections, instructive, and, at the same\ntime, interesting and pleasing.\"\n\n ------\n{428}\n\n The Life Of St. Thomas \u00c0 Becket, of Canterbury.\n By Mrs. Hope, author of _The Early Martyrs_, etc.\n With a Preface, by the Rev. Father Dalgairns,\n of the London Oratory of St. Philip Neri.\n 16mo, pp. xxiv., 398.\n London: Burns, Gates & Co.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n\nVeneration for the memory of St. Thomas, of Canterbury, has\nundergone recently a remarkable revival in England, and this\nmeritorious compilation by Mrs. Hope is one of the fruits of it.\nShe has drawn most of her materials from the more elaborate\nbiographies by the Rev. Dr. Giles and the Rev. John Morris, and\nfrom the _Remains_ of the Rev. R. H. Froude, and, of course\nmakes no pretension to the rank of an original investigator; but\nshe has done a very serviceable work nevertheless, and, upon the\nwhole, has done it well. Her narrative is interesting and rapid.\nThe style possesses the merit--rare with female writers on\nreligious subjects--of directness and simplicity; the story\nbeing unencumbered by either ambitious rhetoric or commonplace\nreflections. From this reason, as well as from the care with\nwhich she seems to have studied the subject, the book not only\ngives us an insight into the saint's personal character, but\nleaves on the reader's mind a very clear comprehension of the\nnature of that long struggle for the rights of the Church and for\nthe independence of the spiritual order which resulted in his\nmartyrdom, and which modern historians have done so much to\nobscure. Mrs. Hope is rather too fond of telling dreams, which\nshe apparently half-believes and half does not believe to have\nbeen prophetic inspirations, although most of them were like the\nanswers of the pagan oracles--susceptible of almost any\ninterpretation, and only to be understood in the light of\nafter-events; but that is a habit which she borrowed of the\nmediaeval chroniclers, and she shares it with a very large class\nof modern biographers. Of course, God may speak to man in a dream\nas well as in other ways; but when the dreams are clearly\nreferable to distinct physical causes, as some of those recorded\nin this book are, when, in fact, they are just like ordinary\nnightmares, the attempt to elevate them to the dignity of\nsupernatural visions is more pious than prudent.\n\nThe preface, by Father Dalgairns, comprises a very effective\nanswer to some of the misrepresentations in Dean Stanley's life\nof the saint, contained in the _Memorials of Canterbury_.\n\n ------\n\n Vermont Historical Gazetteer:\n A Magazine embracing a digest of the History of each town,\n civil, educational, religious, geological, and literary.\n Edited by Abby Maria Hemenway,\n compiler of _The Poets and Poetry of Vermont_.\n Burlington, Vt. 1860-1868.\n\nWe have received the first eleven numbers of this magazine. The\nauthoress has evidently endeavored to produce a first-class work\nof its kind, and has, to a great extent, succeeded. It is to be\nregretted, however, that some of the numbers are printed on\ninferior paper, a serious fault in a work of so much local\ninterest and so permanent a character.\n\nMiss Hemenway does not content herself with the historical and\ntopographical, as is usual with the authors who produce most of\nour local annals. Biography and literature form a large portion\nof her work. Art also lends its charm, and adorns her pages with\nportraits of distinguished men and representations of memorable\nscenes. To us the work seems almost exhaustive. The Green\nMountain State has reason to congratulate itself on so laborious\nand persevering a historian, and its sons should certainly reward\nher toil with the most prompt and liberal pecuniary recognition.\n\n ------\n\n{429}\n\n Gropings After Truth.\n A Life Journey from New England Congregationalism\n to the One Catholic and Apostolic Church.\n By Joshua Huntington.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1868.\n\nThis little work, which has been some weeks before the public in\npamphlet form and already promises to shed \"light in many dark\nplaces\" in the hearts of candid seekers after truth, has at last\nbeen issued in a permanent and elegant edition. It is with great\npleasure that we commend it to our readers, not only for their\nown perusal, but for distribution among their non-Catholic\nacquaintances and friends. As the Reverend Father Hewit says in\nhis preface, the impulse toward a new and more vigorous life\n\"will be quickened and directed in many souls\" by the present\nvolume; and we believe that few whose earlier religious life was\nsimilar to that of Mr. Huntington can read the book without\nmisgivings for themselves, and a longing to discover, by some\nmeans, that peace and light which the author deems himself to\nhave attained. That God will make known this truth and bestow\nthis peace to them and to all others is, as it should be, the\nchief object of our labors and our prayers.\n\n ------\n\n An Outline Of Geography For High\n Schools And Families. With an Atlas.\n By Theodore S. Fay.\n New York: G. P. Putnam & Son. 1867.\n\nWe are inclined to regard this work as a very valuable aid to the\nstudy of its subject, which is treated more scientifically in it\nthan in any other equally elementary book which we have seen. The\nplan is decidedly original, and evidently is the result of\ncareful thought, aided apparently by experience.\n\nProminence is given in it to the astronomical and physical\naspects of the earth. The political division, which from its\nartificial and mutable character is an obstacle to a clear view\nof geography in its unity, is kept in the background, but is by\nno means neglected. A map showing the changes produced by the war\nof 1866 may be specially mentioned in this connection.\n\nThe astronomical part is very full, and in the main correct;\nthere are, however, a few inaccuracies, as in the time occupied\nby light in coming from Neptune, and in the statement that the\nsun could hardly be distinguished in brightness from a fixed star\nby an observer on that planet. But these are small matters. The\nexplanations in this part are clear and interesting, and the\nreticence of the author on points beyond the scope he has\nproposed to himself is specially commendable. To satisfy the\nstudent without misleading or puzzling him is an admirable\ntalent.\n\nWe doubt the propriety of the items of historical information\noccasionally introduced; they seem unnecessary, and spoil the\nunity of the work.\n\nConsidering the strength of memory generally possessed in youth,\nthe advantage claimed by the author that his method makes no\ndirect demand upon this faculty seems doubtful; but, as he states\nin the preface, the work must be used to be judged; and the\nlessons can be memorized if desired.\n\nWe must protest against the use of small initial letters in the\nnational adjectives; as british, french, etc.\n\nThe maps deserve the highest praise for their conception and\nexecution.\n\n ------\n\n Asmodeus In New York.\n New York: Longchamp & Co. 1868.\n\nThis work appeared last year in Paris, and is now translated and\npublished in this country by the author. It pretends to give an\ninside view of American society, and to do this the author picks\nout all that is bad, vicious, and immoral in this country, North\nand South, and calls this conglomeration \"American Society.\" He,\nhowever, should have told his readers that the first specimen of\n\"American Society\" he presented them was that of _one of his\nown countrywomen!_ We need hardly say that most of the other\ncharacters in the book are as good samples of American society as\nthose given in the first chapter.\n\n ------\n\n{430}\n\n The Holy Communion: Its Philosophy, Theology, and Practice.\n By John Bernard Dalgairns,\n Priest of the Oratory of St. Philip Neri.\n 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 440.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1868.\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society has just issued an American\nedition of this work, which has been for a long time much sought\nafter in this country. We take occasion to recommend it as one of\nthe very best works on its august theme in the English language.\nThe most remarkable and original portion of the work is that\nwhich treats of the philosophy of transubstantiation. The author\nhas handled this difficult and abstruse matter with masterly\nability, explaining the doctrine of various philosophical schools\nrespecting substance and accidents with clearness and precision,\nand has furnished most satisfactory answers to rational\nobjections against the Catholic dogma. Both Catholics and those\nwho are investigating Catholic doctrine will find this volume one\nof great interest and utility.\n\n ------\n\n The Roman Martyrology.\n Translated into English, with an introduction\n by the Archbishop of Baltimore.\n Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co. 1868.\n\nOne of the most beautifully executed books which has been issued\nby the Catholic press in this country, printed in the ritualistic\nstyle, with red marginal lines and red edges. The publication of\nbooks of devotion which are standard and have the sanction of the\nRoman Church cannot be too much encouraged, and we cordially\ncongratulate the enterprising publishers who have added this gem\nto our collection.\n\n ------\n\n Sydnie Adriance; or, Trying the World.\n By Amanda M. Douglas, author of\n _In Trust, Stephen Dane, Claudia_, etc.\n Boston: Lee & Shepard. Pp. 355. 1869.\n\nThose who read novels, and their name is Legion, will find\nthis--the latest production of Miss Douglas's pen--nowise\ninferior to its predecessors. While avoiding the sensational\ncharacters and incidents, her language is always pleasing and\nunaffected.\n\n ------\n\n The Life And Times Of Robert Emmet.\n By R. R. Madden, M.D., M.R.I. A.\n With numerous Notes and\n Additions, and a Portrait on Steel.\n\n Also, A Memoir Of Thomas Addis Emmet,\n with a Portrait on Steel.\n New York; P. M. Haverty. Pp. 328. 1868.\n\nFew, if any, of the Irish patriots of modern days have a stronger\nhold on the affection of the people than Robert Emmet. Perhaps,\nwith the exception of Lord Edward Fitzgerald, we might have\nwritten none other. His deep love of country, his abiding trust\nin her future, his daring but futile attempt to accomplish her\nliberation, his death upon the scaffold, these were his, in\ncommon with many others, who are remembered but with gratitude,\nnot, like him, treasured in the popular heart. Like our own\nimmortal Washington--the man is loved, the patriot revered.\n\nThis history of his life and times should find readers wherever a\nfriend to liberty dwells; but for us, this volume has a special\ninterest, containing, as it does, a _Memoir of Thomas Addis\nEmmet,_ the last twenty-three years of whose life were spent\nin this city, and whose monument may be said to form one of the\nsights of the metropolis. The volume is very neatly got up; the\nsteel portraits excellent, both as likenesses and works of art.\n\n ------\n\n{431}\n\n Memoirs Of The Life Of The Right\n Hon. Richard Brinsley Sheridan.\n By Thomas Moore.\n New York: W. J. Widdleton. 2 vols. pp. 307, 335.\n\nMoore's _Life of Sheridan_ has long since passed beyond the\nprovince of the critic. We will, therefore, merely call attention\nto the present edition as being very handsomely got up;\ncontaining, also, a very fine portrait of Sheridan, after the\noriginal painting by Sir Joshua Reynolds. We ought, perhaps, in\nthis connection, to award a meed of praise to the enterprising\npublisher for placing within reach of all, books such as this,\nwhich, as of standard excellence, should be, but were not, of\neasy access.\n\n ------\n\n The Poetical Works Of Thomas Moore.\n Brooklyn and New York: William M. Swayne. Pp. 496.\n\nMoore's complete works for fifty cents! Truly, a marvel of\ncheapness. The typography--something unusual in cheap books--is\nvery good.\n\n ------\n\n Marks's First Lessons In Geometry,\n objectively presented and designed for the Use of\n Primary Classes in Grammar Schools, Academies, etc.\n By Bernhard Marks, Principal of Lincoln\n School, San Francisco.\n New York: Ivison, Phinney, Blakeman & Co. Pp. 157. 1869.\n\nWe can unhesitatingly recommend this little work. We have often\nfelt the need of just such a text-book as this, and have no doubt\nits appearance will be hailed with equal pleasure by both\nteachers and pupils. The style in which it is got up reflects the\nhighest credit on the publishers.\n\n ------\n\n A Thousand Miles' Walk Across South America.\n By Nathaniel H. Bishop.\n Boston: Lee & Shepard. Pp. 310. 1869.\n\nA journey on foot of more than a thousand miles across the South\nAmerican continent, from Montevideo to Valparaiso, could not but\nfurnish to an inquiring mind and an adventurous spirit abundant\nmaterial for interesting detail and startling incidents, and of\nthese there is certainly no scarcity in the present volume. There\nare some portions, however, open to objection, where allusion is\nmade to the religion of the people, less, indeed, it must be\nconfessed, than we almost, as a matter of course, expect from\nProtestant tourists in Catholic countries; and some attempted\ncaricaturing of the Irish residents, which might be deemed\ninsulting if they were not so very puerile. These excepted, it is\na book both useful and entertaining.\n\n ------\n\n The Trotting Horse Of America--\n How To Train And Drive Him.\n With Reminiscences Of The Trotting Turf.\n By Hiram Woodruff.\n Edited by Charles J. Foster, of _Wilkes's Spirit of the Times_.\n Including an Introductory Notice by George Wilkes, and\n a Biographical Sketch by the Editor.\n New York: J. B. Ford & Co. Pp. 412. 1868.\n\nThe papers comprising this work were originally published in\n_Wilkes's Spirit of the Times_, and are a record of the\nauthor's forty years' experience in training and driving. While\nespecially intended for those who are interested in the breeding,\ntraining, etc., of horses, there is abundance of matter likely to\nprove attractive to the general reader; biographies, so to speak,\nof famous trotters, whose names are familiar as household words;\nand graphic descriptions of the various matches in which they\nwere engaged. In fact, it is one of those rare books which, while\ngot up for a special purpose, and seemingly suited to the few,\noverleaps the narrow limits apparently prescribed, and attracts\nto itself the favorable notice of the entire community.\n\nIt makes a very handsome volume, is neatly bound, well printed,\nand illustrated with a fine steel portrait of the author.\n\n ------\n\n{432}\n\n Synodus Dioecesana Baltimorensis Septima, etc.\n Joannes Murphy, Baltimore. 1868.\n\nThe constitutions adopted at the above\nSynod of September 3d, 1868, were:\n\n 1. Of the Publication of the Decrees of the Plenary Council of\n Baltimore.\n\n 2. Of the Officers of the Archbishopric and the Government of\n Dioceses.\n\n 3. Of the Pastoral Care of Souls.\n\n 4. Of the Sacraments.\n\n 5. Of Divine Worship.\n\n 6. Of Discipline.\n\n------\n\n The Two Women.\n A Ballad, written expressly for the ladies of Wisconsin.\n By Delta.\n Milwaukee. 1868.\n\nA poem in five parts, celebrating the creation of Eve and the\nmotherhood of Mary.\n\n ------\n\n M. Duruy's History Of France.\n\nSeveral esteemed correspondents have written to the editor of\nthis magazine expressing regret at the commendatory notice of the\nabove work, which appeared in our columns. Our judgment and\nsympathy are entirely with Mgr. Dupanloup in his contest against\nM. Duruy respecting religious education. This does not, however,\naffect the question of the value of his book as a secular classic\nand a manual of political and civil history. In respect to the\necclesiastical portion of the history, it is very true that the\nwork is deficient; nevertheless, it is far superior to the\nEnglish historical works which our readers, whether Protestant or\nCatholic, are likely to be familiar with; and we think that, in\nspite of the author's liberalistic bias, the general tone and\neffect of the work justifies our recommendation. If any of our\ncorrespondents will send us a history of France equal to this in\nother respects, and at the same time perfectly Catholic in its\nspirit, we will gladly recommend it in preference. We will add,\nhowever, that it is not for sale at the Catholic Publication\nHouse.\n\n ------\n\nThe Catholic Publication Society will publish _The Illustrated\nCatholic Family Almanac_ on November 25th. It will be sold for\n25 cents a copy. The same Society will issue, on December 1st,\n_The New Illustrated History of Ireland_.\n\n ------\n\nMr. Donahoe, Boston, has just published\n\n _Verses on Various Occasions_,\n by John Henry Newman, D.D.\n\n ------\n\n Books Received.\n\nFrom D. APPLETON & Co., New York:\n\n Mental Science; a Compendium of Psychology, and the History of\n Philosophy. Designed as a text-book for High-Schools and\n Colleges.\n By Alexander Bain, M.A., Professor of Logic and Mental\n Philosophy in the University of Aberdeen, author of \"The Senses\n and the Intellect,\" \"The Emotions of the Will,\" etc. etc.\n Pp. 428; Appendix, 99. 1868.\n\n ------\nFrom CHARLES SCRIBNER & Co., New York:\n\n Guyot's Elementary Geography for Primary Classes.\n\n Felter's First Lessons in Numbers. An illustrated\n Table Book designed for elementary instruction.\n\n ------\n\n Footprints Of Life; Or, Faith And Nature Reconciled.\n By Philip Harvey, M.D.\n New York: Samuel R. Wells. 1868.\n\n ------\nD. & J. SADLIER & Co., New York:\n\n Outlines of the History of Ireland.\n Being the substance of a lecture\n recently delivered at Honesdale.\n By Rev. J. J. Doherty.\n In behalf of the Sunday-schools.\n Pp. 35.\n\n A new edition of Carleton's Valentine\n McClutchy.\n\n ----------\n\n{433}\n\n The Catholic World.\n\n Vol. VIII., No. 46 January, 1869.\n\n ------\n\n Galileo-Galilei, [Footnote 141]\n The Florentine Astronomer.\n 1564-1642.\n\n [Footnote 141: _Galileo--The Roman Inquisition_.\n Cincinnati. 1844.\n\n _Galileo e l'Inquisizione._ Marino-Marini. Roma. 1850.\n\n _Histoire des Sciences Math\u00e9matiques en Italie_. Par\n Libri. Paris. 1838.\n\n _Notes on the Ante-Galilean Copernicans_. Prof. De\n Morgan. London. 1855.\n\n _Opere di Galileo-Galilei_. Alberi. Firenze. 1842-1856.\n 16 vols. imp. 8vo.\n\n _Galileo-Galilei, sa Vie, son Proc\u00e8s et ses\n Contemporains_. Par Philar\u00e8te Chasles. Paris. 1862.\n\n _Galileo and the Inquisition_. By R. Madden. London.\n 1863.\n\n _Galil\u00e9e, sa Vie, ses D\u00e9couvertes et ses Travaux_. Par\n le Dr. Max Parchappe. Paris. 1866.\n\n _Galil\u00e9e_. Trag\u00e9die de M. Ponsard. Paris. 1866.\n\n _La Condamnation de Galil\u00e9e_. Par M. l'Abb\u00e9 Bouix.\n Arras. 1866.\n\n _Articles on Galileo, in Dublin Review_. 1838-1865.\n\n _Articles on Galileo, in Revue des Deux Mondes_.\n 1841-1864.\n\n _M\u00e9langes Scientifiques et Litt\u00e9raires_. Par J. B.\n Biot. 3 vols. Paris. 1858.\n\n _Galil\u00e9e, les Droits de la Science et la M\u00e9thode des\n Sciences Physiques_. Par Thomas Henri Martin. Paris.\n 1868.]\n\n \"Even so great a man as Bacon rejected the theory of Galileo\n with scorn. ... Bacon had not all the means of arriving at a\n sound conclusion which are within our reach; and which secure\n people who would not have been worthy to mend his pens from\n falling into his mistakes.\"\n --Macaulay.\n\n\n An Unwritten Chapter.\n\nGalileo's \"connection with a political party, unfriendly to\nreligion as well as to the papal government,\" is correctly\nreferred to by the _Edinburgh Review_ as one of the causes\nof his difficulties concerning a question upon which Copernicus\nmet with none whatever.\n\nOur space will not permit us to treat this interesting chapter of\nthe Galileo story, or we might show that not only such a\nconnection, but Galileo's associations with the partisans and\nfriends of such men (and in some cases with the men themselves)\nas Sarpi, (Fra Paolo,) Antonio de Dominis, etc. etc., contributed\npowerfully to encourage in him an insulting aggressiveness that\neven the indulgent admonition of 1616 could not restrain.\n\nIn various ways, these men stirred up strife that might otherwise\nhave slumbered, and instigated Galileo to fresh infractions of a\nrule by which he had solemnly promised to abide. They are\nreferred to by the _North British Review_ (Nov., 1860) in\nenergetic language as \"the band of sceptics who hounded him on to\nhis ruin.\"\n\n{434}\n\nIn like manner, since we have spoken of the treatment of Urban at\nGalileo's hands, we cannot, for want of space, dwell upon the\npersonal bearing of Urban toward him after the trial was resolved\nupon. The law that compelled the trial was as binding upon the\npope as upon any layman. It had to be fulfilled; but so far as\nUrban's personal demeanor and acts are evidence, there was\nnothing in them, and nothing in his heart, but kindness,\nforbearance, and generosity toward the offender; and it will be\nremembered that he carried these so far as to allow the decree of\nthe Inquisition to go forth unsigned and unconfirmed by him.\n\nIf revenge for any conceived personal affront had actuated him,\nhe could, by his signature and approval, have given that decree a\nvigor and a value it could never otherwise possess.\n\nWe resume the thread of our relation, and proceed to recount the\nmain facts of\n\n\n The Trial.\n\nGalileo was now summoned to Rome to answer for his infraction of\nthe injunction of 1616.\n\nThe summons was issued September 23d, 1632. There was, however,\nneither hurry nor precipitation; and after a delay of some\nmonths, caused partly by Galileo's endeavors to have the trial\ndeferred, partly by his illness, and partly by the prevalence of\nan epidemic in Florence, he reached Rome on the 13th of February,\n1633, and became the guest of the Tuscan ambassador.\n\nStill there appears to have been no haste with the proceedings,\nand Galileo passed his time in perfect freedom, surrounded by his\nfriends and the attentions of his noble host, who could not help\nremarking that this was the first instance he had ever heard of\nin which a person cited before the Inquisition--even though they\nwere nobles or bishops or prelates--was not held in strict\nconfinement.\n\nWhen, at last, Galileo's presence at the holy office was\nabsolutely indispensable, the best and most commodious rooms were\nplaced at his disposition, and his formal interrogatory commenced\nApril 12th.\n\nOn the termination of this preliminary examination, he was\nassigned the more spacious and pleasant apartments of the Fiscal\nof the Inquisition.\n\n\"Galileo,\" says Mr. Drinkwater, \"was treated with unusual\nconsideration;\" and Sir David Brewster states that \"during the\nwhole trial, which had now commenced, Galileo was treated with\nthe most marked indulgence.\"\n\nOn the 22d of April, the commissary charged with the conduct of\nthe trial was ready to proceed, but postponed it on Galileo's\nstatement that he was suffering from severe pain in his thigh.\n\nSo matters rested, until, on the 30th, Galileo asked for a\nresumption of the examination, and presented a complete and utter\ndisavowal of his book and its principles. He declared that,\nhaving again read over his _Dialogues_, in order to examine\nwhether, contrary to his express intention, he had inadvertently\ndisobeyed the decree of 1616, he found that two arguments were\ntoo strongly presented; that they were not conclusive, and could\nbe easily refuted. \"If I had to present them now,\" he said, \"I\nshould assuredly do it in terms that would deprive them of the\nweight they apparently have, but which in reality they do not\npossess.\"\n\nHis error, he admitted, arose from a vain ambition, pure\nignorance and inadvertence: \"_E stato dunque l'error mio, e lo\nconfesso, di una vana ambitione, e di una pura ignoranza e\ninavertenza._\"\n\n{435}\n\n Galileo's Voluntary Retraction.\n\nHere the examination closed for the day; but Galileo voluntarily\nreturned, and reopened it with the declaration (\"_et post\npaululum rediens dixit_\") that he had not held the condemned\nopinion of the earth's motion, and that he was ready, if time\nwere granted him, to prove it clearly.\n\n\"I will take up,\" said he, \"the argument in my _Dialogues_,\nand will refute with all possible energy the arguments presented\nin favor of that opinion.\"\n\nHe closes by reiterating his request to be allowed the\nopportunity of putting these resolutions in execution: \"_Prego\ndunque questo S. Tribunals che voglia concorrer meco in questa\nbuona risolutione col concedermi facolt\u00e0 di poterle metter in\neffetto_.\"\n\nIt is painful to see a man's convictions so lightly held. Why,\nall this voluntary proffer is more than was imposed on Galileo by\nthe decree of 1616, and no more than assumed by the decree of\n1633, not yet pronounced!\n\nAlas, poor Galileo! Of such stuff martyrs never yet were made.\n\nIt seems strange that this phase and these incidents of the trial\nshould never have been commented upon, as showing the scientific\nquestion to be entirely secondary in the estimation of the\nCongregation.\n\nHad that question been the only point or the important point,\nthis voluntary retraction, confession of judgment, plea of\nguilty, offer of reparation, and self-imposed sentence on the\npart of Galileo should have been more than sufficient to end the\ncase, and leave naught for the tribunal to do but to put the\nself-imposed sentence in legal form.\n\nBut not so. As Galileo well knew, he might have gone on to the\nend of his life teaching, in peace and honor, the astronomy\ntaught by Copernicus and others for the previous century.\nCopernicanism was not his crime, and therefore his retraction, as\nmade, could not reach his criminal infraction of the decree of\n1616, and of his own solemn pledges, nor could it modify the\naccusation of deception in the matter of the license to print his\n_Dialogues_, and the improper means taken to obtain that\nlicense.\n\n\n The Trial Goes On.\n\nOn the same day Galileo made his voluntary retraction, he was\npermitted to return to the palace of the Tuscan ambassador.\n\nOn the 10th of May, he was notified that a further delay of eight\ndays would be allowed him for the preparation of a defence, when\nhe immediately presented it already prepared, in a written\nstatement of two pages, accompanied by the Bellarmine certificate\nof 1616.\n\nMeanwhile, the Congregation deliberated; and such was the\nfriendly feeling in Rome toward Galileo that, as late as the 21st\nof May, Cardinal Capponi thought he would be acquitted.\n\nGiuducci asserted it positively, and Archbishop Piccolomini made\npreparations to take Galileo with him to Sienna as his guest.\n\nA large mass of documentary evidence, letters, reports, etc., had\naccumulated in the case, and on the 16th of June a preliminary\ndecree was entered, by which Galileo was enjoined from writing\neither _for_ or _against_ the theory of the earth's\nmotion, (\"_injuncto ei ne de cetero scripto vel verbo tractet\namplius quovis modo de mobilitate terrae nec de stabilitate soils\net e contra_\" etc.)\n\n{436}\n\nOn the 21st of June, Galileo was interrogated, and stated in his\nreplies that, before the decree of 1616, he had held both\nopinions as to the sun or the earth being the centre of the\nworld; but that since that time, convinced of the prudence of his\nsuperiors, all doubt had ceased in his mind, and he had adopted\nas true and undoubted the opinion of Ptolemy; that in his\n_Dialogues_ he had explained the proofs that might be urged\nagainst one or the other system, but without deciding for either.\n\nTo this he was answered that he asserts positively the immobility\nof the sun and the movement of the earth, and that he must make\nup his mind to acknowledge the truth, or that he should be\nproceeded against according to the law and the facts of the case,\n\"_devenietur contra ipsum ad remedia juris et facti\nopportuna._\"\n\nAgain Galileo replies that he neither holds nor has held that\nopinion of Copernicus since he received the order to abandon it.\n\nBeing admonished that, if he does not tell the truth, he refuses\nunder penalty of torture, \"_et ei dicto quod dicat veritaiem\nalias devenietur ad torturam,_\" he replies, \"_Io son qua per\nfar l'obedienza e non ho tennta questa opinione dopo la\ndeterminatione fatta come ho detto_,\" \"I am here to make my\nsubmission. I do not hold and have not held this opinion since\nthe determination taken as I have already stated.\"\n\n\"_Et cum nihil aliud_\" proceeds the record, \"_posset\nhaberi in executionem decreti, habita ejus subscriptione,\nremissus fuit ad locum suum_.\" [Footnote 142]\n\n (Signed) _Io_, Galileo-Galilei,\n \"_ho deposto come di sopra._.\"\n\n [Footnote 142: \"And as nothing else remained to be done, he\n signed the record, and was sent back to his place of abode.\"]\n\nOn the following day, (Wednesday, June 22d, 1633,) Galileo\nappeared again before the Congregation to hear the decree in his\ncase, and pronounce his abjuration.\n\n\n The Decree [Footnote 143]\n\n [Footnote 143: So far as it relates to the scientific\n question, this decree was suspended by Benedict XIV., and\n repealed in full consistory by Pius VII. Meantime, his\n _Dialogues_ were repeatedly published in Italy with all\n the usual ecclesiastical approbations. The edition in the\n Astor Library is that of Padua, 1744, and shows what we here\n state.]\n\nwas based upon and mainly taken up with the recital of the\nproceedings of 1615, the injunction of 1616, the violation of\nthat injunction, the effect of the Bellarmine certificate, the\nviolation of Galileo's pledges, the improper means taken to\nobtain the license to print his _Dialogues_, and his\nconfessions and excuses. There was no discussion of the\nscientific question.\n\n \"Wherefore,\" recites the decree, \"as here,\" namely, in the\n Bellarmine certificate, \"there is no mention made of two\n particular articles of the said precepts--that is to say, that\n you should not teach--_doceri_--and in any\n manner--_quovis modo_--write of the same doctrine, you\n argued that it was to be believed that in the course of\n fourteen or sixteen years those things passed out of your\n memory, and that, on account of the same forgetfulness, you\n were silent about that precept when you solicited a license for\n publishing the said work of yours. And this was not said by you\n to excuse error, but, as it is ascribed, rather to a\n vainglorious ambition than to malice. But this very certificate\n produced by you in your defence rather aggravates the charge\n against you, since in it, it is declared that the said opinion\n was contrary to Scripture, and nevertheless you dared to treat\n of it, to defend it, and even to argue in favor of its\n probability. Neither did that certificate give you the faculty,\n as you interpret it, so artfully and subtly extorted by you,\n since you did not make known the prohibition that had been\n imposed on you.\n{437}\n But as it appeared to us that you did not speak the entire\n truth with respect to your intention, we indicated that it was\n necessary to proceed to a rigorous examination of you, in\n which, without prejudice to the other things which were\n confessed by you, and which are deduced against you with\n respect to your intention, you answered Catholically.\n\n \"Which things, therefore, having duly considered, and examined\n into the merits of this cause, together with the\n above-mentioned confessions and excuses of yours, and whatever\n other matters should be rightly seen and considered, we come to\n the following definitive sentence against you:\n\n \"We say, judge, and declare that you, the above-named Galileo,\n on account of those things set forth in the documents of this\n trial, and which have been confessed by you as above stated,\n _have rendered yourself to this holy office vehemently\n suspected of heresy;_ that is, that you believed and hold\n that doctrine which is false and contrary to the sacred\n Scriptures, namely, that the sun is the centre of the orbit of\n the world, and that it moves not from east to west, and that\n the earth moves, and is not the centre of the world; and that\n an opinion can be held and defended as probable, after it had\n been declared and defined as contrary to the sacred Scriptures.\n And consequently, that you have incurred all the censures and\n penalties by the sacred canons and other general constitutions\n and particular statutes promulgated against delinquencies of\n this kind, from which it is our pleasure that you should be\n absolved; provided, first, that with a sincere heart and faith,\n not feigned, before us you abjure, curse, and detest the\n above-mentioned errors and heresies, and every other heresy and\n error contrary to the Catholic and Apostolic Roman Church, by\n that formula which is presented to you. But lest this grave\n fault of yours, and pernicious error and transgression, should\n remain unpunished altogether, and for the time to come that by\n more caution you should avoid them and be an example to others,\n that they should abstain from this sort of crime, we decree and\n by public edict prohibit the book of the _Dialogues_ of\n Galileo-Galilei; we condemn you to the prison of the holy\n office during our pleasure; and as a solitary penance, we\n prescribe that for three years you shall once a week recite the\n seven penitential psalms; reserving to ourselves the power of\n moderating, commuting, or taking away in whole or in part the\n above-mentioned penalties and penances.\n\n \"And thus we say, pronounce, and by sentence declare,\" etc.\n\nThen followed Galileo's abjuration of his errors and heresies;\nthat is to say, abjuration of his error as to the earth's\nmovement, and of his heresy as to the decisions of the\nCongregation.\n\nWe thus give, in all their crudity, and without comment, the only\nportion of the trial and the decree at all available to the\nadvocates of the old version of the Galileo story. Let them make\nthe most of it.\n\n\n The Record Of The Trial Of Galileo,\n\nor the Proc\u00e8s Verbal, still exists in all its original integrity.\nThe history of these documents is singular. The archives of the\nInquisition at Rome were carried off to Paris at some time during\nthe reign of Napoleon. Lord Brougham says in 1809. M. Biot (who\ncites _M. Delaborde, Directeur des Archives Fran\u00e7aises_)\nsays in 1811.\n{438}\nA French translation of the Galileo trial, begun by order of\nNapoleon, was completed down to April 30th, 1633. Just before the\nHundred Days, Louis XVIII. desired to see the documents, and all\nthe papers connected with the trial were brought to his\napartments. His hasty flight from Paris soon followed, and the\nMSS. were forgotten and lost sight of. When the plundered\narchives were returned to Rome, it was found that the Galileo\ntrial was not among them. Reclamation was made, and it was not\nuntil 1846 that Louis Philippe had the documents returned by M.\nRossi. They are now in the Vatican.\n\nIn this connection, it is an interesting fact to note that\nseventy folio volumes of the archives of the Inquisition are now\nin the library of the University of Dublin. The archives at Rome\nwere plundered a second time in 1849, whether by Garibaldians or\nFrench is not known. The plunder was brought to Paris by a French\nofficer, and there, in 1850, sold to the late Duke of Manchester,\nwho sold them to the Rev. Mr. Gibbings, a Protestant clergyman of\nthe Irish Establishment. Mr. Gibbings again sold them to the late\nDr. Wall, vice-provost of the university, aided by Dr. Singer,\nBishop of Meath, who presented them to the library of Trinity\nCollege, Dublin.\n\nWe return to the Galileo record. In 1850, Signor Marino-Marini,\nPrefect of the Vatican Archives, published _Galileo e\nl'Inquizitione_. This Signor Marini is the same who is so\nhighly spoken of by William von Humboldt. (See Schlesier's\n_Lives of the Humboldts_.) His work originally appeared in\nthe form of a discourse addressed to the Archaeological Academy\nof Rome.\n\nLooked for with anxiety, the book was received with some\ndisappointment. Instead of the text, and the _entire_ text\nof the trial, Signor Marini gave extracts and fragments, stating\nat the same time that the French, who had these documents in\ntheir possession so many years, had not dared to publish them,\nbecause they were disappointed at not finding in them what they\nsought for.\n\nTo this it was objected--and the point was well taken--\"Why,\nthen, did not you publish the whole?\" The truth is, the choice of\nSignor Marini for the task was unfortunate. An excellent scholar\nand accomplished man, he was yet too timid or too narrow-minded\nfor it, and undertook the function of an advocate rather than the\nfar more important one of a historian.\n\nHe shrank from the publicity of such passages as, \"_Devenietur\ncontra ipsum ad remedia juris et facti opportuna,_\" \"_Alias\ndevenietur ad torturam,_\" as though we were not aware of the\nuniversality of the use of torture in all the criminal procedure\nof all Europe, and that the Inquisition took it not from\necclesiastical, but from the secular tribunals of the day; as\nthough we did not only deplore, but openly reprobate, the fact,\nand as though we did not hold the Inquisition responsible for the\nodium it has entailed on the Catholic Church, very much, we\npresume, as any right-minded Protestant holds star-chambers and\nElizabethan tortures responsible for burdens they find hard to\nbear.\n\nA distinguished French writer, M. Henri de l'Epinois, expressed\nhis regret to the present prefect of the Vatican Archives as to\nthe unsatisfactory manner in which Sig. Marini had presented the\nGalileo record, whereupon the Rev. Father Theiner immediately\noffered to place all the documents at his disposition for any\nexamination or publication he might wish to make.\n{439}\nThe result is M. L'Epinois's work, _Galil\u00e9e, son Proc\u00e8s, sa\nCondamnation, d'apr\u00e8s des Documens In\u00e9dits_, in which are\ngiven all the original passages omitted by Marini.\n\nThe record of the trial covers two hundred and twenty pages, and\nincludes, besides the interrogatories and replies of Galileo and\nof several witnesses, sixty-three letters, orders, opinions,\ndepositions, etc., besides the various decrees and Galileo's\ndefence and abjuration.\n\nThe interrogatories are all in Latin, the answers in Italian.\n\nThus, for example, where Galileo is examined as to the\npublication of his _Dialogues_, the record runs:\n\n \"_Interrogate_. An si ostenderet sibi dictus liber paratus\n sit illum recognoscere tanquam suum?\n\n \"_Respondit_. Spero di si che mi sara monstrato il libro\n lo riconoscero.\n\n \"Et sibi ostenso uno ex libris Florentiae impressis, anno 1632,\n cujus titulus est _Dialogo di Galileo-Galilei_ linceo, in\n quo agitur de duobus sistematibus mundi, et per ipsum bene viso\n et inspecto, dixit: lo conosco questo libro benissimo, et e uno\n di quelli stampati in Fiorenza, et lo conosco come mio e da me\n composto.\n\n \"_Interrogatus_. An pariter recognoscat omnia et singula\n in dicto libro contenta tanquam sua?\n\n \"_Respondit_. Io conosco questo libro mostratomi, ch'\u00e8 uno\n di quelli stampati in Fiorenza e tutto quello che in esso si\n contiene lo riconosco come composto da me.\"\n\n\n \"E Pur Si Muove!\"\n\nThe temptation of the dramatic effect of this phrase has been too\nstrong for writers who should have known better than to give it\ncurrency. In the declamation of a school exhibition, we are not\nsurprised to find it; but from a serious historian it comes with\na bad grace. M. Ponsard has, of course, preserved it in his\ndrama.\n\nIt is simply fable, and like the \"Up, Guards, and at them!\" of\nLord Wellington, \"un de ces mots de circonstance invent\u00e9s apr\u00e8s\ncoup.\" [Footnote 144]\n\n [Footnote 144: \"One of those impromptus composed at\n leisure.\"]\n\n\"Unstable, timorous, equivocating, and supple,\" says Philar\u00e8te\nChasles, \"he never had the heart to exclaim, 'E pur si muove!'\"\nHe never exhibited that heroical resistance which has been\nattributed to him.\n\nThe penitential shirt or sack is also fabulous, notwithstanding\neven so distinguished a man as Cousin speaks of Galileo as \"forc\u00e9\nd'abjurer \u00e1 genoux, en chemise, son plus beau titre de gloire.\"\n[Footnote 145]\n\n [Footnote 145: \"Forced to abjure on his knees, and clad in a\n shirt, his noblest title to greatness.\"]\n\n\n Value Of The Decree.\n\nA few words--and but few are needed--as to the common assertion\nthat the Catholic Church, claiming infallibility in matters of\nfaith, decided the doctrine of the earth's immobility to be a\ntruth affirmed in the Scriptures. Granting the decree of the\nInquisition in the case of Galileo to have been all that is\nclaimed against it, it was, after all, nothing but a decree of\nthe Inquisition; no more, no less.\n\nAnd first, what was the Inquisition?\n\nThe Inquisition forms no permanent or essential part of the\norganization of the Catholic Church. It was always a purely local\ntribunal, and the original appointment of its officers as\n_quaesitores fidei_, or inquisitors, seems to have been\ndesigned to prevent civil wars on the score of religion. The\nprevailing sentiment as well as the positive jurisprudence of the\nmiddle ages approved the punishment of heresy by temporal\npenalties.\n{440}\nIndeed, such principles, abhorrent to us, seem to have come down\nout of the so-called dark ages far toward our own time. For full\nconfirmation of this statement, you may read John Calvin's\ntreatise in defence of persecuting measures, in which he\nmaintains the lawfulness of putting heretics to death; and for\nillustration, you may peruse the account of his treatment of\nCastellio and Servetus, who found Calvin's reasoning of such\npeculiar strength that they did not survive its application; or\nhis letter to Somerset, (1548:) \"You have two kinds of mutineers:\nthe one are a fanatical people, who, under color of the gospel,\nwould set all to confusion; the others are stubborn people in the\nsuperstition of the Antichrist of Rome. _These altogether do\ndeserve to be well punished by the sword_.\" (See Froude's\n_History of England_, vol. v.) Charming impartiality!\n\nMore than a hundred years afterward, Calvin's followers embodied\nhis doctrine in their solemn confession of faith, wherein they\nsay (_Westminster Confession_, ch. xxiii.) that \"the civil\nmagistrate hath authority, and it is his duty, to take order,\nthat all blasphemies and heresies be suppressed.\"\n\nAlthough inquisitors existed in Italy from the time of Innocent\nIV., their authority was so rarely exercised that it was scarcely\nknown until Paul III., in the year 1545, organized the\nCongregation of the Inquisition, consisting of six cardinals. To\nthese were added two more by Pius V. They formed a strictly\necclesiastical tribunal, charged with matters regarding the\nintegrity of faith throughout the world; their duty being to\nexamine and censure erroneous propositions, condemn and proscribe\nbad books, inflict ecclesiastical censures on clergymen convicted\nof error, and exercise a superintendence over the local tribunals\nof faith.\n\nIt still exists, acts, and exercises its ecclesiastical\nattributes.\n\nBut however powerful to suppress opinion or to exact obedience\nthe Inquisition might be within the limits of its own special\njurisdiction, we have never yet heard that any decree of any\ninquisition ever determined a question of faith, or, in other\nwords, ever attempted to usurp the functions of a general\ncouncil.\n\nEven Riccioli, the original source, up to within a few years, of\nall accounts of the trial and sentence of Galileo, and himself\none of the strongest theological opponents of the theory of the\nearth's motion, expressly protests against the assertion that any\ndeclaration whatever had been made on the subject by the church\nitself. He says: \"The Sacred Congregation of Cardinals, taken\napart from the Supreme Pontiff, does not make propositions to be\nof faith, _even though it should actually define them to be of\nfaith, or the contrary ones heretical_. Wherefore, since no\ndefinition upon this matter has as yet issued from the Supreme\nPontiff, nor from any council directed and approved by him, it is\nnot yet of faith that the sun moves and the earth stands still by\nforce of the decree of the Congregation; but at most and alone,\nby the force of the sacred Scriptures to those to whom it is\nmorally evident that God has revealed it. Nevertheless, Catholics\nare bound, in prudence and obedience, at least so far as not to\nteach the contrary.\"\n\nAnd yet, plain as is this distinction, men of professedly\ntheological acquirements, for the sake of inflicting a wound on\nthe church, systematically ignore it whenever they have \"a point\"\nto make with the Galileo story.\n\n{441}\n\nAnd the distinction is not only plain at the present day, but was\nexpressly made at the time of Galileo's trial. \"It was not in the\npower of the holy office to declare it (Galileo's scientific\ntheory) or any other doctrine heresy; it would take an\nOEcumenical Council for that.\" (Letter of September 4th, 1632:\nCardinal Magalotti to Galileo.) Even Descartes, six months after\nthe trial, remarks that the decision of the Inquisition had\nreceived the ratification of neither pope nor council.\n\n\n The Torture.\n\nThe relators of the torture fable ask us to believe that an old\nman bending under the weight of seventy years, after undergoing\nimprisonment and mental anguish, suffered the _peine forte et\ndure_ of torture on the 21st of June, and on the next day was\ncapable of remaining more than an hour on his knees to receive\nhis sentence, and then, unaided, arose, stamped his foot, and\nthundered out, \"E pur si muove!\" Truly a vigorous performance,\nbut not more hardy than the story which relates it.\n\nNo; these fables can no longer have place in history; and we know\npositively that Galileo, who, on the evening of June 24th, after\nhis three days' detention at the holy office, (the sentence of\nimprisonment being immediately commuted by the pope,) was\nconducted by Niccolini to the Villa Medici, and who, on the 6th\nof July, old as he was, was able to walk four miles without\ninconvenience, could not have been tortured on the 21st of June.\n\n\"Those who undertake,\" says the German Protestant Von Reumont,\n\"to accuse the Inquisition on this point, are forced to have\nrecourse to fiction.\"\n\nLord Brougham, after an examination of the case, says, in his\nAnalytical View of the Principia, that \"the supposition of\nGalileo having been tortured is entirely disproved by Galileo's\nown account of the lenity with which he was treated.\"\n\nBiot dismisses the matter thus: \"II y a l\u00e0 une r\u00e9union\nd'invraisemblances qui ne permet pas de concevoir raisonnablement\nun soup\u00e7on pareil.\" [Footnote 146]\n\n [Footnote 146: \"There is here such a conjunction of\n improbabilities as to exclude all reasonable possibility of\n such a suspicion.\"]\n\nGalileo survived his sentence eight years. Is it credible that,\nduring that long period spent in intimate personal intercourse\nand literary correspondence with his friend, no word or hint of\ncomplaint of such an outrage as torture should have escaped his\nlips?\n\nCastelli was constantly with him to the hour of his death, and\nheard no whisper of it.\n\nIn August, 1638, writing to Bernegger, Galileo could boast that\nneither the freedom nor the vigor of his spirit was repressed.\n\nThree months before his death, with the certainty of its\napproach, he sent for Torricelli, and spent long hours in\nunreserved discourse with him. Not a word of torture!\n\nFinally, in his last letter, just three weeks before his death,\nto Beccherini, he bewails his endurances and his troubles in a\nspirit that could not and did not fail to unseal his lips for\neverything he had to say in the spirit of complaint; but here,\ntoo, not a word of torture!\n\nThe majority of the French feuilletonists on the Ponsard drama\nmanifest disappointment at not finding any torture, and\nstraightway seek solace in such reflections as, \"Ainsi, Galil\u00e9e\nne fut point mis \u00e0 la torture; on en a aujourd'hui la pleine\ncertitude.\"! [Footnote 147]\n\n [Footnote 147: \"Thus, then, Galileo was not put to the\n torture. Of that we now have the fullest certainty.\"]\n\n{442}\n\nBut the feuilletonist wants to know if the persecutions,\nbitterness, and vexation of every kind to which Galileo was\nsubjected were not the equivalent of physical torture?\n\nAnd what, then, does he take to be the equivalent of the irony,\nsarcasm, ingratitude, and insult gratuitously heaped upon Urban,\nthe kind friend and liberal benefactor of Galileo?\n\nNo reasonable doubt can now exist as to the fact that it was not\nGalileo's assertion of the hypothesis of the earth's rotation\nthat brought him into trouble. It was his intemperance of\nlanguage, impatience of wise counsel, disregard of sacred\nobligations, violation of solemn promises, and above all, his\ninsane perversity in dragging the scriptural element into the\ncontroversy. Of the scores of distinguished adherents, disciples,\nadvocates, and professors of the heliocentric doctrine, Galileo\nalone gave annoyance and created difficulty.\n\nTo the extent of examining and discussing the question\nscientifically, the freedom at Rome was perfect. But when the\npoint was reached when it was gratuitously thrust into collision\nwith Scripture, a degree of demonstration was needed that could\nnot be produced.\n\n\n After The Trial.\n\nTo complete the chronological statement of events, it is only\nnecessary to add that on the 6th of July Galileo left Rome for\nSienna, where he remained with Archbishop Piccolomini, one of his\nmost intimate friends, until the month of December. He then\nreturned to his own home at Arcetri, near Florence.\n\nIt was here he received the oft-described and well-known visit of\nMilton, then in the prime of youth. In 1638, he transferred his\nresidence to Florence, where he occupied himself with scientific\npursuits, his negotiation with Holland for the use of his\ndiscovery concerning the longitude, the publication of his book\n_Dialoghi delle Nuove Scienze_ at Leyden, (1638,)\ncorrespondence with scientific men, and visits from his friends.\n\nHe died on the 8th of January, 1642, in the seventy-eighth year\nof his age.\n\n\"The noblest eye,\" wrote his friend Father Castelli, announcing\nhis death, \"which nature ever made, is darkened; an eye so\nprivileged and gifted with such rare powers that it may truly be\nsaid to have seen more than the eyes of all that are gone, and to\nhave opened the eyes of all that are to come.\"\n\nWe now pass to the consideration of the exact condition of\n\n\n The Scientific Question\n\nas it existed in 1633, leaving, of course, aside all discussion\nof its theological or scriptural connection.\n\nWithout going back so far as Pythagoras, the new system in 1633\nwas not original with Galileo, nor even with Copernicus, who is\nsaid to have received the germ of his new doctrine at Bologna\nfrom the hypothesis of Dominicus Maria on the variability of the\naxis of the earth; and it would be most interesting, did space\nallow, to review the intellectual struggles of the predecessors\n(_ad astra_) of the Polish priest with a theory they felt to\nbe true, but were powerless to demonstrate even to themselves.\n\n{443}\n\nAmong these men were:\n\n1. The great mystical theologian, Richard of St. Victor, who\ndescribed the true method of physical inquiry in terms which\nFrancis Bacon might have adopted. \"It would not be easy at the\npresent day,\" says Dr. Whewell, (_Philosophy of Discovery_,\npp. 52-53,) \"to give a better account of the object of physical\nscience.\"\n\n2. Celius Calcagnini, (born 1479,) who published (Tiraboschi says\n_divolg\u00f2_, which may or may not mean simply printing) a work\nin which he endeavored to prove \"_quod coelum stet, terra autem\nmoveatur_.\"\n\n3. Cardinal Cusa, sometimes called Nicholas the Cusan, an\nintellectual giant of his time, the highest expression, probably,\nof the active mental movement that marked the 15th century. He\nwas equally distinguished in science, in letters, and in\nphilosophy, and in 1436, at the Council of Basle, proposed the\nreform of the calendar afterward carried out by the pope. His\nknowledge of astronomy was, for his time, profound, and he\nasserted and published that \"the sun is at rest, the earth\nmoves,\" (\"_istam terram in veritate moveatur._\") [Footnote\n148]\n\n [Footnote 148: \"That heaven is motionless,\n but that the earth moves.\"]\n\n4. Novara, the preceptor of Copernicus; for it is certain that\nCopernicus found his new doctrine in Italy.\n\n5. Jerome of Tallavia, whose papers are said to have fallen into\nthe hands of Copernicus.\n\n6. Leonardo da Vinci, who, in 1510, connected his theory of\nbodies with the earth's motion, \"showing,\" as Whewell says, \"that\nthe heliocentric doctrines were fermenting in the minds of\nintelligent men, and gradually assuming clearness and strength.\"\n\nAlthough Da Vinci constructed no system of explanation, he\nnevertheless held the motion of the earth, as appears from one of\nhis manuscripts of the year 1500.\n\nSome light may be thrown upon the actual condition of\nastronomical science during the Galileo period by a short\nstatement of the arguments most in vogue between\n\n Ptolemaists And Copernicans,\n\nand of what the latter had to present in the way of proof.\n\nThe Copernicans contended generally for the greater simplicity of\ntheir system, and the incredibility of the enormous velocity\nwhich the sphere of the fixed stars must have if the ancient\nsystem be true. To this it was answered that God doeth wonders\nwithout number.\n\nBut the earth would corrupt and putrefy without motion, whereas\nthe heavens are incorruptible. To which the answer was ready that\nwind would give sufficient motion.\n\nBut the most movable part of man is underneath, since he walks\nwith his feet; whence the most unworthy part of the universe, the\nearth, should be movable.\n\nObjected that, if the earth moves, the head of a man moves faster\nthan his feet.\n\nBut again, \"Rest is nobler than motion, and therefore ought to\nbelong to the sun, the noble body.\"\n\nReplied to, \"For the same reason, the moon and all the planets\nought to rest.\"\n\nAgain, \"The lamp of the world ought to be in the centre.\"\nAnswered by, \"A lamp is frequently hung up from a roof to\nenlighten the floor.\"\n\n\"Can we fancy,\" asked the Copernicans, \"that God has not acted on\na scheme so impressive and so beautiful as ours?\"\n\n\"Can we fancy,\" replied their opponents, \"that this earth is\nconstantly in motion, which we feel to be the stablest of all\nthings? that our senses are given to deceive us? that during the\ngreater part of our lives we cling to the earth with our head\ndownward?\"\n\n{444}\n\nFinally, the Copernicans were utterly silenced by the\nunanswerable argument of throwing up a stone.\n\n\"Would they please explain,\" was asked of them, \"why, if the\nearth moved, the stone, being thrown directly upward, should fall\non the spot from which it was thrown?\"\n\nThe Copernicans were silent, for they could assign no reason. \"In\nthe sixteenth century,\" says Professor De Morgan, \"the wit of man\ncould not imagine how, if the earth moved, a stone thrown\ndirectly upward would tumble down upon the spot it was thrown\nfrom.\" It was reserved for a man who was born on the same day\nGalileo died to furnish the reason.\n\n\n Astronomy In 1633.\n\nTo one seeking for a demonstrated system, astronomy was then a\nhopeless chaos of irreconcilable facts--an impenetrable jungle of\nconflicting theories. That such was the actual condition of the\nscience in Galileo's day, we find fully recognized and aptly\ndescribed by a distinguished English Protestant, a great name in\nEnglish literature, who, himself \"an exact mathematician\" and\nastronomer, was most active in research and observation precisely\nduring the period of Galileo's greatest fame. We refer to Burton,\nauthor of the celebrated _Anatomy of Melancholy_.\n\nThis remarkable book was written by Burton during the years\nextending from 1614 to 1621, when the first edition was\npublished. The subsequent editions of 1624, 1628, 1632, and 1638\nwere all issued during the life of the author, who died in 1639,\na succession of years precisely covering the period of Galileo's\ncontroversies and trials; and yet its author, vicar of St. Thomas\nand rector of Segrave, (Church of England as by law established,)\nwho never misses an opportunity ever so slight of giving\nCatholicity a thrust or a stab, makes 'mere mention' of Galileo's\ncondemnation thus: \"These paradoxes of the earth's motion which\nthe Church of Rome hath lately condemned as heretical.\"\n\nThe truth is, that in that day the course pursued by the\nCongregation at Rome was generally approved even by Protestants.\nIn their eyes, nothing but a paradox was condemned. Having\nexhausted all his proof, where does Galileo leave our exact\nEnglish mathematician, who evidently read and knew of everything\npublished on the subject in his day?\n\nWhy, Burton speaks of \"that main paradox of the earth's motion\nnow so much in question,\" and devotes five full pages to a\npresentation of all the theories then current, giving Galileo's\nas of no more value than the others! He thus sums them up:\n\n \"One offends against natural philosophy, another against optic\n principles, a third against mathematical, as not answering to\n astronomical observations. One puts a great space between\n Saturn's orb and the eighth sphere, another too narrow. In his\n own hypothesis, he makes the earth as before the universal\n centre, the sun to the five upper planets; to the eighth sphere\n he ascribes diurnal motion; eccentrics and epicycles to the\n seven planets, which hath been formerly exploded; and so,\n _dum vitant stulti vitia, in contraria currant_, [Footnote\n 149] as a tinker stops one hole and makes two, he corrects\n them, and doth worse himself: reforms some and mars all. In the\n mean time, the world is tossed in a blanket amongst them, they\n hoist the earth up and down like a ball, make it stand and go\n at their pleasures: one saith the sun stands; another, he\n moves; a third comes in, taking them all at rebound, and lest\n there should any paradox be wanting, he finds certain spots and\n clouds in the sun. ...\n\n [Footnote 149: \"While they avoid one mistake, they run into\n the contrary.\"]\n\n\n{445}\n\n And thus they disagree amongst themselves, old and new,\n irreconcilable in their opinions; thus Aristarchus, thus\n Hipparchus, thus Ptolemaeus, thus Albateginus, thus Alfraganus,\n thus Tycho, thus Ramerus, thus Raeslinus, thus Fracastorius,\n thus Copernicus and his adherents,\" etc.\n\nNot a word here of Galileo.\n\nThe whole chapter is very curious, and will well repay the\ntrouble of reading. See pages 323 to 329, London edition.\n\nNotwithstanding his condition of paradox as seen by disinterested\nmen of science, Galileo claimed three propositions as settled:\n\n _First_. The system was demonstrated.\n\n _Second_. He demonstrated it.\n\n _Third_. His was the honor of furnishing the demonstration\n from the flux and reflux of the tides.\n\nTo these three propositions it is replied that the system was not\nat that day demonstrated by Galileo or by any one else, and that\nhis tidal argument was worthless.\n\nIndeed, a sufficient answer is found in the simple statement, in\nwhich all astronomers must certainly accord, that before the time\nof Sir Isaac Newton there was nothing to make the Copernican\nsystem more plausible and reasonable than the Ptolemaic theory,\nbecause the English astronomer first explained the one law on\nwhich planetary revolutions depended.\n\nThe theory of the earth's rotation was, in 1633, barely a matter\nof induction--strong, it is true, yet nothing more than\ninduction. Strong, if the two arguments taken from the phases of\nVenus and the satellites of Jupiter are duly weighed; but weak\nwithout them.\n\nThe discovery of the satellites of Jupiter was called by Herschel\n\"the holding turn of the Copernican system,\" but Galileo had no\nconception of its value; he passed it by as insignificant, and\nsettled down complacently upon the flux and reflux of the tides\nas the crowning proof. To this proof, and to no other, he clung\nduring the citation of 1616.\n\nAstronomers express great surprise that Galileo makes no mention\nof the belts of Jupiter, although they are visible with the aid\nof the smallest glass.\n\nZucchi, a Jesuit, was the first to note them in Rome, (1630.) In\nlike manner, the discovery of the spots on the sun do not appear\nto have benefited him in ascertaining the sun's rotation.\n\"Galil\u00e9e,\" says Arago, \"n'a pas non plus la moindre apparence de\ndroit \u00e0 la d\u00e9couverte du mouvement de rotation du soleil. On a vu\nles taches; aucune cons\u00e9quence de cette observation n'est\nindiqu\u00e9e.\" [Footnote 150]\n\n [Footnote 150: \"Neither has Galileo the slightest apparent\n claim to the discovery of the sun's rotation. The spots are\n observed, but no deduction is drawn from the observation.\"]\n\nThe oversights concerning Jupiter are the more remarkable as\nGalileo's labors in investigation of the satellites were long and\nexhausting. It is only within a few years that this fact has been\nascertained through the discovery by Professor Alberi of a long\nseries of observations of the satellites of Jupiter, with tables\nand ephemerides drawn up for the purpose of comparing the\nlongitude.\n\nThese manuscripts, described as a \"mighty monument of his\nlabors\"--and doubtless they must be, for all his calculations\nwere necessarily made without the aid of logarithms--were found\nin the Pitti Palace library, and are published by Alberi in the\nfifth volume of his magnificent edition of Galileo's work.\n\n{446}\n\nHerschel says that the science of astronomy was yet in its\ninfancy at the period of Newton's death, and after all that\nNewton had done for it. What, then, must we think of its\ncondition in the hands of Galileo, with his toy telescope, his\nfallacious tidal theory, and his necessary ignorance of the great\ndiscoveries that followed him?\n\nIn 1618, he published his _Theory of the Tides_. In 1623, he\nagain puts it forward in a letter to Ingulfi; and finally devotes\nthe fourth and last day of the _Dialogue_ to the development\nof the same argument.\n\nNay, more, in this dialogue he scoffs at the simplicity of\nKepler, who has had the temerity, after his (Galileo's)\nsatisfactory explanation of the phenomena, to listen to such\nstuff as the occult properties of the moon's influence on the\ntides, and other like puerilities! We find by reference to a\nmarginal note in the Padua edition of the _Dialogues_ at the\nAstor Library, that a prelate, Girolamo Borro, wrote a pamphlet\nsetting forth the theory of the moon's influence on the tides,\nand Simplicio is made to quote him: \"E ultimamente certo prelato\nha publicato un tratello dove dice che la luna vagando per il\ncielo attrae e solleva verso di se un cumulo d'acqua, il quale va\ncontinualmente seguitanclo,\" etc. [Footnote 151]\n\n [Footnote 151: \"And lately a certain prelate has published a\n pamphlet, in which he says that the moon, traversing the\n heavens, attracts and draws after her a mass of water which\n continually follows,\" etc.]\n\nHere Sagredo stops him abruptly, saying, \"For heaven's sake,\nSignor Simplicio, let us have no more of that; for it is a mere\nloss of time to listen to it, as well as to confute it, and you\nsimply do injustice to your judgment by regarding such or similar\npuerilities.\"\n\nNo wonder, as Bailli says, \"la foule d'astronomes etaient\ncentre!\" [Footnote 152]\n\n [Footnote 152: \"The mass of astronomers were of the contrary\n opinion.\"]\n\nGalileo died in profound ignorance of the true tidal theory, and\nthe credit of pointing it out is ascribed by Mr. Drinkwater to\nthe College of Jesuits at Coimbra.\n\nBut more than all this, Galileo had already made great mistakes,\nand committed errors that were publicly rectified by his\ncontemporaries.\n\nThus, one of the most remarkable astronomical phenomena of the\nage, the three comets of 1618, was totally misunderstood by\nGalileo, who pronounced them atmospheric meteors.\n\nThe Jesuit Grassi, in his treatise _De Tribus Cometis_,\n(1618,) had the merit of explaining what had baffled Galileo, who\nat first held them to be planets moving in vast ellipses around\nthe sun.\n\n\n Charity For All.\n\nIn referring to these errors of Galileo, Laplace says that it\nwould be unjust to judge him with the same rigor as one who\nshould refuse at present to believe the motion of the earth,\nconfirmed by the numerous discoveries made in astronomy since\nthat period.\n\nAnd John Quincy Adams, in a memorable discourse delivered at\nCincinnati in 1843, says of Tycho Brahe, (who maintained that the\nearth is immovable in the centre of the universe,) \"The religion\nof Tycho in the encounter with his philosophy obtained a triumph\nhonorable to him, but erroneous in fact.\"\n\nAll which maybe very true; and if Laplace and Mr. Adams err at\nall, they err certainly on the side of charity and kindness.\n\n{447}\n\nBut are we to have one standard of justice for one class of men,\nand a far different one for another class? Is that which is\nexcusable in an Italian and honorable in a Danish astronomer,\nignorant, bigoted, and vile in a cardinal? Or is there any good\nreason why that which in Denmark is a \"triumph of religion\"\nshould in Rome become a \"victory of ignorance\"?\n\nTycho Brahe, in his day a profound astronomer, noble and wealthy,\ndevoting his whole life to science in unremitting observation of\nthe heavens, with the aid of the most complete and costly\napparatus in existence at the time, might surely be supposed to\nhave reached a safer conclusion than an ignorant churchman.\n\nAnd how, moreover, could such a churchman be expected to pin his\nfaith to the sleeve of an astronomer like Galileo, whose errors\nand blunders were frequent and serious, and who, when in his\nconjectures he stumbled upon the truth, could hardly distinguish\nit from error, and was therefore as likely to give a bad as a\ngood reason for his doctrine? Or, as M. Biot admirably expresses\nit, \"si l'\u00e9tat imparfait de cette science l'exposait ainsi \u00e0\ndonner parfois de mauvaises raisons comme bonnes, il faut\npardonner \u00e0 ses adversaires de n'avoir pas pu toujours distinguer\nles bonnes des mauvaises.\" [Footnote 153]\n\n [Footnote 153: \"If the imperfection of this science thus made\n him liable to give bad reasons for good, his adversaries\n should surely be pardoned for not always being able to\n distinguish the good from the bad.\"]\n\nAnti-Catholic controversialists will persist in endowing the\nGalileo period with an amount of astronomical and physical\nscience that then had no existence. Intelligent, industrious, and\nlearned the cardinals of Galileo's day certainly were; but it is\nabsurd to attribute to them or to their times a knowledge of the\nCopernican system, as afterward explained by Kepler, Newton, and\ntwo centuries of men of science. Kepler's _Laws of the\nUniverse_ were not published until 1619, and even then, and\nlong years afterward, who could possibly apply them until\nNewton's discoveries gave them force and authority?\n\nIf our modern sciolists, who prattle so much about \"the ignorant\nand bigoted court of Rome,\" knew enough to be a little modest,\nthey might take to heart the reflection of the great English\nessayist, and remember it is no merit of theirs that prevents\nthem from falling into the mistakes of a cardinal \"whose pens\nthey are not worthy to mend.\" It certainly was asking a great\ndeal of men that they should abandon settled tradition, the\nteachings of authority, the evidence of their senses, and the\nwarrant of Scripture, as they understood it, to embrace a\nstrange, startling, and incomprehensible doctrine, in no degree\nbetter off in demonstration than the old one. Even the weight of\nscientific authority was in their favor, as is readily seen when\nwe look at the relative strength of\n\n\n Copernican and Anti-Copernican.\n\nTycho Brahe was far from being alone in his dissent from\nCopernicus and Galileo. Saving only the bright spot made by\nKepler and a few of his disciples, all Germany, France, and\nEngland were still in comparative darkness, and it is difficult\nto believe that at the period of Galileo's trial there were as\nmany avowed Copernicans in all Europe together as in the single\ncity of Rome.\n\nIn Germany, the new system was almost universally rejected, and\nWolfgang Menzel, in his _History of Germany_, speaks of it\nas \"die unter den Protestanten in Deutschland noch iminer\nbezweifelte Wahrheit des Copernikanischen Welt-systems.\"\n[Footnote 154:]\n\n [Footnote 154: \"The even yet (by German Protestants)\n contested truth of the Copernican system.\"]\n\n{448}\n\nThe frontispiece to Riccioli's _Almagestum Novum_, Astor\nLibrary copy, published in 1651, presents a curious illustration\nof the prevalent estimate of the new doctrines. A figure with a\npair of balances is seen weighing the Tychonian against the\nCopernican system, and the truth of the former is shown by its\noverwhelming preponderance. Riccioli cites fourteen authors who\nup to that day had written in favor of the Copernican theory, and\nthirty-seven who had written against it. He adduces seventy\narguments in favor of the Tychonian, and can find but forty-nine\nin support of the Copernican; consequently, the mere force of\nnumbers proves the improbability of the latter.\n\nIn France, Ramus, the Huguenot Royal Professor at Paris, utterly\nrefused the doctrine ten years after the death of Galileo.\n\nThomas Lydiat, a distinguished English astronomer of his day, and\nso good a scholar as to come victorious out of a controversy on\nchronology with Scaliger, openly opposed the Copernican system in\nhis _Praelectio Astronomica_, (1605.) In fact, no man of\nastronomical acquirements of that day, and for more than fifty\nyears afterward, dared risk the success of a book by putting in\nit anything favoring the Copernican theory.\n\nEven as late as 1570, we find John Dee, an English Copernican,\nwho, despairing of the ignorant prejudice around him, would not\nso much as hint at the existence of the system in his preface to\n_Billingsley's Euclid_.\n\nIn Great Britain, the system was discredited by the illustrious\nGilbert. Milton, too, seems to have doubted it. Its most active\nopponent was Alexander Rosse, a voluminous Scotch writer, alluded\nto in _Hudibras_.\n\nHume tells us Lord Bacon \"rejected the system of Copernicus with\nthe most positive disdain.\" [Footnote 155] It is but fair to say,\nthough, that this statement, like too many of Hume's, should be\nqualified. It is true that in his _De Augmentis_ Bacon says\nthat the absurdity and complexity of the Ptolemaic system has\ndriven men to the doctrine of the earth's motion, which is\nclearly false, \"_quod nobis constat falsissimum esse;_\" but,\non the other hand, in the _Novum Organum_, he distinctly\nspeaks of the question of the earth's motion as one to be\nexamined. Now, the latter work, although published before, was\nwritten after the _De Augmentis_, which is less serious and\nargumentative than the _Novum Organum_.\n\n [Footnote 155: Macaulay should have said, \"theory of\n Copernicus,\" instead of \"theory of Galileo.\" Bacon never\n credited Galileo with a system, and did not hold his\n scientific merits in much esteem.]\n\nEven in 1705, the Hon. E. Howard published in London a work\nentitled _Copernicans of all Sorts Convicted_.\n\nIn 1806, Mercier, a Frenchman, wrote to prove \"l'impossibilit\u00e9\ndes syst\u00e8mes de Copernic et de Newton;\" and even so recently as\n1829 an individual was found so retrograde as to publish a work\nentitled The _Universe as it is; wherein the Hypothesis of the\nEarth's Motion is Refuted,_ etc., by W. Woodley.\n\n\n The Undemonstrated Problem.\n\nAnd now, having spied out the nakedness of the astronomic land\nthroughout Europe, let us return for a moment to the scientific\nposition of the tribunal that tried Galileo.\n\n{449}\n\nWhat solid proof was presented to it? None whatever. And those\nfamiliar with the history of astronomy will readily recognize the\nfact that, so far from seeing in the new opinion a scientific\nnovelty, they recognized in it substantially the old hypothesis\nof Pythagoras, which, after obtaining credit for more than five\nhundred years, was triumphantly displaced by the Ptolemaic\ntheory; which was that the earth is a solid globe at rest in the\ncentre of the universe, with the various planetary bodies\nrevolving in larger and larger circles, according to the order of\ntheir distances.\n\nThe new doctrine had not even the form of a system:\n\n \"'Twas neither shape nor feature.\"\n\nIndeed, as has been truly said, it was nothing more than a\nparadox for the support of which its authors had to draw upon\ntheir own resources.\n\nHigh astronomical authority, D\u00e9lambre, thus sums up the utter\nabsence of proof, in Galileo's time, of the theory of the earth's\nrotation:\n\n \"What solid reason could induce the ancients to disbelieve the\n evidence of their senses? Yes, and even despite the immense\n progress which astronomy has subsequently made, have the\n moderns themselves been able to allege any one direct proof of\n the diurnal motion of the earth, previous to the voyage of\n Richer to Cayenne, where he was obliged to shorten his\n pendulum? Have they been able to discover one positive\n demonstration to the point, to prove the annual revolution of\n the earth, before Roemer measured the velocity of light, and\n Bradley had observed and calculated the phenomena of the\n aberration?\n\n \"Previous to these discoveries, and that of universal\n gravitation, were not the most decided Copernicans reduced to\n mere probabilities? Were they not obliged to confine themselves\n to preaching up the simplicity of the Copernican system, as\n compared with the absurd complexity of that of Ptolemy?\"\n\nWhat \"solid reason,\" indeed, could be given? But Galileo in his\npresumption did not consider himself reduced to \"mere\nprobabilities,\" and, relying on his tidal fallacies and\nunexplained phenomena, sought to pass hypothesis for dogma, and\nhis _ipse dixit_ for demonstration.\n\nOf the great discoveries enumerated by D\u00e9lambre, Galileo was\nnecessarily ignorant, and we must insist upon the fact that the\ncardinals and the Inquisition were equally ignorant of them.\n\nThere was, in reality, no astronomical science in Galileo's time\nworth speaking of, except as we compare it with the astronomy\nthat preceded it, which is the only fair test of its value.\nCompared with what Ptolemy knew, it was twilight.\n\nCompared with what we know, it was darkness.\n\nIt is moderate to say that in 1633 astronomy was in its infancy.\nTo all that was then known, add Kepler's magnificent labors,\nTorricelli's discovery, Newton's principle of gravitation, and\nall the English astronomer did for science--come down to the year\n1727, in which he died, and what was the condition of\nastronomical science even then?\n\nHerschel has told us: \"The legacy of research which was left us\nby Newton was indeed immense. To pursue through all its\nintricacies the consequences of the law of gravitation; to\naccount for all the inequalities of the planetary movements, and\nthe infinitely more complicated and to us more important ones of\nthe moon; and to give, what _Newton himself certainly never\nentertained a conception of,_ a demonstration of the stability\nand permanence of the system under all the accumulated influence\nof its internal perturbations; this labor and this triumph were\nreserved for the succeeding age, and have been shared in\nsuccession by Clairault, D'Alembert, Euler, Lagrange, and\nLaplace. Yet so extensive is this subject, and so difficult and\nintricate the purely mathematical inquiries to which it leads,\nthat _another century may yet be required to go through the\ntask_.\"\n\n{450}\n\n The Legacy Of Research\n\nleft by Newton may truly be called \"immense.\" And Herschel does\nwell to modify his statement as to the \"triumph,\" and postpone it\nyet another century.\n\nFor it must be borne in mind that no astronomical system is a\nstrictly verifiable fact. The circulation of the blood is a\nverifiable fact, and it has been verified. No announcement of the\ndiscovery of a new demonstration of its truth could now attract\nany attention on account of its merits as proof.\n\nNot so as to the earth's motion. The proofs of that have always\nbeen merely referential and cumulative. The final, the crowning\npoint of demonstration has never been made, and probably never\ncan be reached. Who can say that he ever saw the earth move?\nHence it is that every successive item of cumulative evidence is\nhailed with pleasure and excitement. Thus was it with\nTorricelli's, Newton's, Richer's, Roemer's, and Bradley's\ndiscoveries; thus with all the brilliant inventions in mechanics\nby means of which the illustration and explanations of these\ndiscoveries became possible--explanations which, after all, not\none man in a thousand can understand.\n\n\n\n Post-Galilean Astronomy.\n\nA few words in addition to what we have already said concerning\nthe great discoveries made since Galileo's time, and we close.\n\nThree of these discoveries, without which the Copernican theory\nas to demonstration would be but little better off than the\nPtolemaic, merit special mention. They are:\n\n _First_. The Newtonian theory of gravitation.\n\n _Second_. The discovery of the shortened pendulum, showing\n the diurnal motion of the earth.\n\n _Third_. The velocity and aberration of light, showing the\n annual motion.\n\nIt is scarcely necessary to enter into any detail concerning the\nso generally known, great, and universal principle of\ngravitation.\n\n\n The Shortened Pendulum.\n\nUp to the year 1672, no doubt had been entertained of the\nspherical figure of the earth, and, as a consequence, of the\nequality of all the degrees of the meridian; so that one being\nknown, the whole circumference was determined.\n\nIn that year, the French Academy of Sciences, then occupied in\nthe measurement of an arc in the meridian, sent the astronomer\nRicher to Cayenne, on the coast of South America, to make\nobservations of the sun's altitude.\n\nIn the course of these observations he was surprised to find that\na superior clock, furnished with a pendulum which vibrated\nseconds, was found to lose nearly two minutes and a half a day.\n\nThe astonishment created by the report of this fact in France was\nvery great, particularly after the accuracy of the clock had been\nfully tested.\n\n{451}\n\nOther scientific men then visited different points on the coasts\nof Africa and South America, and were convinced of the absolute\nnecessity of shortening the pendulum to make it vibrate seconds\nin those latitudes.\n\nThe phenomenon was explained by Newton in the Third Book of his\n_Principia_ (1687)--see p. 409 _et seq._, American\nedition--where he shows it to be a necessary consequence of the\nearth's rotation on its axis, and of the centrifugal force\ncreated by it. That force, in modifying the gravity, gives to the\nearth an oblate spheroidal figure, more elevated at the equator\nthan on the poles, and makes bodies fall and pendulums vibrate\nmore slowly in low than in high latitudes.\n\nThere is, unfortunately, such a thing as national jealousy even\nin science, and to such a motive only can we ascribe the fact\nthat Newton's explanation was not accepted in France until\npresented by Huyghens, several years afterward, in a different\nand less accurate form.\n\n\n The Velocity And Aberration Of Light.\n\nIn the entire range of scientific literature, there are few\nchapters of greater interest than those which recount the rise\nand gradual development of all the principles involved in the\ntriumphant demonstration of these two beautiful discoveries.\n\nThey admirably illustrate the total ignorance of Galileo\nconcerning a problem upon which he experimented with utter\nfailure, as also the slow pace of scientific progress, and the\nnecessity of the co-operative efforts of many men and many\nsciences to perfect it.\n\nIt required the genius and research of Roemer, Bradley, Molyneux,\nArago, Fizeau, Foucault, and Struve, joined to the patient\nexperiment and mechanical skill of Br\u00e9guet, Bessel, and\nGraham--the labor of all these men extending through a period of\none hundred and ninety years (1672 to 1862)--to complete its\ndemonstration.\n\nAnd first, as to the velocity of light. In 1672, Roemer, a Danish\nastronomer residing in France, began observations on the\nsatellites of Jupiter and their eclipses, which resulted in the\ndiscovery of progressive transmission of light and the\ndetermination of the value of its velocity. Up to his day, it had\nalmost become a fixed principle that the passage of light through\nspace was absolutely instantaneous.\n\nFrom the time of Galileo, an immense mass of exact calculations\nof the eclipses of the first satellite of Jupiter had been\naccumulating, and Roemer found that at certain times the\nsatellite came out of the shadow later, and at other times\nsooner, than it should have done, and this variation could not be\naccounted for on any known principles. Remarking that it always\ncame too late from the shadow when the earth in its annual\nmovement was at more than its mean distance from Jupiter, and too\nsoon when it was at less, he formed the conjecture that light\nrequires an appreciable time to traverse space.\n\nBecoming satisfied of the truth of his theory, he, in September,\n1676, announced to the French Academy of Sciences that an\nemersion of the first satellite, to take place, on the 16th of\nNovember following, would occur ten minutes later than it should\naccording to ordinary calculation.\n\nThe event verified his prediction. Nevertheless, doubters and\ncavillers abounded, and Roemer's theory was not accepted without\ndispute. It was claimed that the delays and accelerations in the\nimmersions and emersions, instead of being attributed to change\nof position of the observer, and to the progressive transmission\nof light, might be regarded as indicating a real perturbation in\nthe movement of the satellite, due to a cause not yet discovered.\n\n{452}\n\nThese doubts were removed fifty years later by the English\nastronomer Bradley, who discovered the phenomenon of\n_aberration_, which consists in an apparent displacement\nwhich all the stars and planets experience on account of the\ncombination of the velocity of the earth with the velocity of\nlight.\n\nBradley's discovery was accidental. A superior instrument,\nconstructed by Graham, and destined to observe with the greatest\nprecision the passage of the stars near the zenith, had been\nplaced at the observatory of Kew for the purpose by Molyneux.\n\nBradley used this instrument to arrive at some precise data of\nthe annual parallax of the stars. His first observations led him\nto the discovery of _aberration_, the details of which, of\nthe highest possible interest, may be found in the\n_Philosophical Transactions_, Royal Society, No. 406,\nDecember, 1728.\n\nThus confirmed by Bradley, Roemer's progressive transmission of\nlight became an incontestable fact.\n\nThen followed the experiments projected by Arago to determine the\nvelocity of light, (1838,) which for eleven years remained a\nmerely ingenious suggestion, until realized by MM. Foucault and\nFizeau.\n\nFrom 1840 to 1842, Struve, in Russia, made numerous observations\nto obtain the exact value of aberration.\n\nIn 1856, the Institute of France awarded to M. Fizeau, for his\nsuccessful demonstration of Arago's suggestion, the triennial\nprize of thirty thousand francs founded by the emperor, \"for the\nwork, or the discovery, which, in the opinion of the five\nacademies of the institute, has done most honor and service to\nthe country.\"\n\nFinally, in 1862, M. Foucault, perfecting his apparatus, measured\nthe velocity of light by an admirable experiment in physics,\nwhich renders not only sensible, but even measurable, the time\nemployed by light to run over a path of twenty metres, (65 feet\n7.4 inches,) although this time barely equals 1/15000000 of a\nsecond!\n\nAnd yet, after all this, there still remains a doubt as to\npositive certainty of accuracy in the calculations.\n\nThe sun's parallax, calculated from observations of the last\ntransit of Venus over the disk of the sun in 1769, is fixed at\n8.58 seconds, and on this basis is ascertained the distance from\nthe earth to the sun.\n\nFor reasons too long to detail here, many distinguished\nastronomers are not entirely satisfied with the determination of\n8.58 seconds, and prefer to wait for the next transit of Venus,\nin 1874, for a full and satisfactory solution of all doubts on\nthe subject!\n\n\n Conclusion And A Proposition.\n\nThus, after a lapse of two hundred and thirty-five years, filled\nwith unremitting labor and triumphant results in the field of\nastronomical discovery, it appears from the showing of those most\ncompetent to judge that something yet remains to be produced in\nthe way of demonstration of the astronomical system as now\naccepted.\n\nWe will not ask those who differ with us concerning the Galileo\nquestion to wait another century--the period assigned by Sir John\nHerschel as \"requisite\"! Herschel gave that opinion in 1828,\nwhich would send us to A.D. 1928 \"to go through the task.\"\n\n{453}\n\nAs it might not probably be convenient either for us or for those\nwho differ with us to resume the controversy in that year,\nnamely, 1928, we will--in the spirit of compromise, and taking\nall the rest for granted--content ourselves with and abide by the\n\"satisfactory solution\" promised for 1874, to which period it\nwould seem proper, on scientific grounds, to adjourn any attempt\nto show that a system not yet proved in 1868 was, nevertheless,\nfully demonstrated in 1633.\n\n ----------\n\n \"Out Of The Depths Have I Cried Unto Thee O Lord!\"\n\n\n A Christmas Sketch.\n\n\n \"Our blood splashes upward, O our tyrants!\n And your purple shows your path,\n But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence\n Than the strong man in his wrath.\"\n\n\n\"If wishes were horses, beggars might ride,\" says the proverb.\n\nWhat a pity it is that wishes are not horses!--that at seasons\nwhen almost every tongue drops the words, \"A merry Christmas!\" \"A\nhappy New-Year!\" the will should not rise and breathe the breath\nof life into those words; make them move, make them work; put bit\nand bridle on them, and direct them to go where they are most\nneeded. Wishes might then be made into very excellent horses, and\nbeggars might ride at least once a year; might be lifted for a\nday out of the mire of care and suffering that dulls the light of\nheaven to their eyes, and stops out the voices of heaven from\ntheir ears; lifted into a belief in the humanity of man and the\nmercy of God; might be given a little restful journey into that\neasy land where the rich dwell every day.\n\nThere is more truth than poetry in the line,\n\n \"Leave us leisure to be good.\"\n\nOne who has no time for thought will almost certainly go astray;\nand men and women whose lives are spent in fighting the wolf from\ntheir doors, will fight him with whatever comes to hand, and will\nsometimes catch up strange weapons.\n\nSo it might chance that these living wishes may have wings also,\nand the beggar's soul may rise as well as his body.\n\nI should like to set a regiment of such wishes galloping down\nGrind street this coming Christmas, and stopping at every door.\n\nThat was a sorrowful street a few years ago, and I don't know\nthat it has grown merry since. A tall block of tenement-houses\nwalled the northern side from end to end, leaving off so abruptly\nthat, had they been written words instead of brick houses, there\nwould have been a ---- after them. Indeed, if the reader has a\nfancy for a miserable pun, he might say that there _was_ a\ndash after them, houses being scarce.\n\nA very sensitive person, on looking at that block, would be\nlikely to straighten himself up, draw his elbows close to his\nsides, and feel as though his nose was unnecessarily large. It is\nnot impossible that he might \"toe in\" a little in walking, unless\nhe reached the next street.\n{454}\nNot a curve was visible in the whole block, horizontal and\nperpendicular reigning supreme. The mean brick front came to the\nvery edge of the sidewalk, and the windows and doors were as flat\nas though they had been slapped in the face when in a soft state.\nEvery house was precisely like every other house, and the only\nway of finding any particular one was by counting doors.\n\n\"These houses toe the mark,\" the builder had said when he looked\non his completed work, standing complacently with his hands in\nhis pockets, and his head a little on one side.\n\n\"Toe the mark\" was the right phrase. The two meagre steps that\nled to each front door suggested the thought, and the whole had\nan air of soul obedience.\n\nThe tenants in this block were of that pitiable class called\n\"decent,\" which generally means poor; too independent to beg,\nstraining every nerve to live respectably, and making an extra\nstrain to hide the first one; people whose eyes get a little wild\nat the prospect of sickness, who shudder at the thought of a\ndoctor's bill and workless days, who sometimes stop their toil\nfor a moment, and wonder what may be the meaning of such words as\n\"ease,\" \"contentment,\" \"pleasure.\" There were clerks and\nbook-keepers whose families burst out through their incomes in\nevery direction; starving artists of all sorts; and the rest,\npeople who toiled down in the dark, at the foundations over which\nsoared the marble palaces of the rich, darkening heaven.\n\nThese people had got in a way of dressing alike; they had the\nsame kind of curtains, and the same plants stretching beseeching\nshoots toward the tantalizing line of sunshine that let itself\ndown, slow and golden, to the middle of the second floor windows,\nthen drew back over the roofs of the houses opposite, while\nlittle flowers of all colors looked lovingly and reproachfully\nafter it, cheated so day after day, but never quite losing faith\nthat some day the bright-winged comforter would come quite down\nto their hearts.\n\nEyes of angels, to whom these roofs and walls were transparent,\nsaw, doubtless, variety enough under the surface: aspirations\nthat reached to the house-top and looked over; aspirations that\nsoared even to the clouds and the stars, catching a heavenly\nlikeness; aspirations that stopped not at the stars, but climbed\nso high that their flowers and fruitage hung in the unfailing\nsunlight of heaven beyond reach of earthly hands, but seen and\ntouched by ineffable hopes ascending and descending. What dark\ndesires crawling upon the earth and covering their own deeds\nthose poor eyes looked upon, I say not; what hate, deep and\nbitter; what cankering envy and disappointment; what despair,\nthat with two tears blotted the universe; what determination;\nwhat strongly rooted purpose; what careless philosophy eating its\ncrust with a laugh. Let the angels see as they may, with human\neyes we will look into one room, and find our story there.\n\nThis room is on the second floor, and consequently gets its\nwindows half full of sunshine every pleasant afternoon. The\nfurnishing of it shows that the occupants had seen better days;\nbut those days are long past, as you can see by the shabbiness of\neverything. There are evidences of taste, too, in a hanging vase\nof ivy, a voluble canary, a few books and pictures; and\neverything is clean.\n\n{455}\n\nIt was a bright gloaming in December of 186-, when a woman sat\nalone in this room. She was evidently an invalid, looking more\nlike a porcelain image than a flesh-and-blood woman, so white and\ntransparent was she, so frail the whole make of her. Soft\nlight-brown hair faintly sprinkled with gray was dropped beside\neach thin cheek, dovelike eyes of an uncertain blue looked sadly\nout from beneath anxious brows, and the mouth, which once must\nhave expressed resolution, now, in its comparison, showed only\nendurance. This was a woman who had taken up life full of hope\nand spirit, but whom life had turned upon with blow after blow,\ntill finally both hope and spirit were broken. Her days of\nenterprise were over.\n\nShe sat there with her hands listlessly folded, her work fallen\nunnoticed to the floor, and her eyes flushed with weeping. She\nhad been sitting so an hour, ever since a visitor had left her;\nbut, hearing a step on the stair and a child's voice singing, she\nstarted up, wiped her eyes, and mended the fire, her back turned\ntoward the door as it opened.\n\nA little girl of eight years old came in and gave her\nschool-books a toss upon the table, crying out, in a boisterous,\nhealthy voice, \"O mother! I am starved! Give me something to\neat.\"\n\n\"Supper will soon be ready, Nell,\" the mother said gently,\ndrawing out the table.\n\n\"I can't wait!\" cried the child. \"My stomach is so empty that it\nfeels as if there was a mouse there gnawing. You know we had\nnothing but bread and butter for dinner, and I do think that's a\nmean dinner. Why don't you have roast beef? I know lots of girls\nwho have it every day.\"\n\n\"We can't afford it,\" the mother said falteringly. \"Beef is very\nhigh.\"\n\n\"Well, what have you got for supper?\" demanded the child. \"You\npromised us something good.\"\n\n\"I have nothing but bread and butter, dear. I couldn't get\nanything else.\"\n\n\"Well, Mother Lane, I declare if that isn't too bad!\" And the\nchild flung herself angrily into a chair. \"We don't have anything\nfit to eat, and I wish I could go and live with somebody that\nwouldn't starve me. I won't eat bread and butter, there now! I'm\nso sick of it that it chokes me.\"\n\nThe mother's face took a deeper shade, and her lip trembled, but\nshe made no reply; and Nell sat angrily kicking her heels against\nthe chair, and pouting her red lips.\n\nMrs. Lane knew well how vain is the attempt to teach a child\ngratitude for the necessaries of life. Children are grateful only\nfor that which is superfluous, taking the rest as a matter of\ncourse, and they are not to be blamed either. For gratitude is a\nfruit, and not a flower, and those budding natures know not yet\nwhat it means. After a little while, another and a louder step\nsounded on the stairs, this time accompanied by a whistle; and\nthe door opened noisily to give admittance to a boy of ten years\nold, who also flung his books down, and opened his cry:\n\n\"Mother, give me some money, quick! The oysterman is just at the\nend of the street, and I can get oysters enough for our supper\nfor thirty cents. Hurry up, mother, or he'll go away!\" And the\nboy performed a double-shuffle to relieve his impatience.\n\n\"I can't spare the money,\" his mother said faintly.\n\n\"Well, what have you got for supper, then?\" he asked fretfully.\n\nThe mother made no answer, and the boy turned to his sister for\nan explanation.\n\n{456}\n\n\"Bread and butter!\" said Nell, with an air of ferocious sarcasm.\n\n\"Well, if I ever!\" pronounced her brother, standing still with\nhis hands driven emphatically into the uttermost depths of his\npockets, and looking at his mother with an air at once astonished\nand accusing. \"If we live like this, I'll run away; see if I\ndon't!\"\n\nShe turned upon them with a look that was either desperate or\nangry.\n\n\"Children, wait till your sister comes home. Don't ask me for\nanything.\"\n\nFrank gave the door a bang, pulled his cap still closer on to his\nhead, since he ought to have pulled it off, and taking a seat by\nthe window, sat kicking his chair in concert with his sister. The\nmother continued her preparations with the air of a culprit\nwatched by her judges.\n\nUnheard in this duet of heels, a softer step ascended the stairs,\nand a young lady opened the door and entered, a smile on her\npretty face, her breath quickened and her color heightened by the\nrun up-stairs, and waves of yellow hair drawn back from her white\nforehead. She tossed her hat aside, and sank into a chair.\n\n\"There, mother, I do feel tired and hungry,\" she said; then,\ncatching a glimpse of her mother's face, started up, exclaiming,\n\"What is the matter?\"\n\n\"Mr. Sanborn has been here,\" Mrs. Lane answered unsteadily,\nwithout looking up.\n\nThe daughter's countenance showed her anticipation of evil news.\n\n\"And what of that?\" she asked.\n\n\"He has raised the rent,\" was the faint answer.\n\n\"How much?\"\n\n\"Eight dollars a month?\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" cried the daughter, flushing with excitement. \"We\npay now all that the three rooms are worth. He knows what my\nsalary is, and that I cannot give any more.\"\n\n\"He says he can get that for the rooms,\" her mother said.\n\n\"Then we will go elsewhere!\"\n\n\"We cannot!\" whispered the mother despairingly, for the first\ntime raising her woeful eyes. \"Every place is full. They are\ngoing to tear down houses to widen two or three streets, and Mr.\nSanborn says that people will have to go out of town to live.\"\n\n\"What are we to do!\" exclaimed the girl, pacing excitedly to and\nfro. \"We only just managed to get along before. Did you tell him,\nmother?\"\n\n\"I told him everything, Anne; and he said that he was very sorry,\nbut that his family _was_ an expensive one, and it cost him\na good deal to live; and, in short, that he must have the eight\ndollars more.\"\n\n\"He is a villain!\" cried Anne Lane. \"And I will tell him so. I\nshould think his family was an expensive one. Look at their\nvelvets, and laces, and silks! Look at their pictures and their\ncurtains! One of my scholars told me to-day that Minnie Sanborn\nsaid they were going to have a Christmas-tree that will cost five\nhundred dollars. Think of that! And this is the way they pay for\nit!\"\n\n\"Don't say anything to him, Anne,\" pleaded her mother, in a\nfrightened tone. \"Remember, he is one of the committee, and can\ntake your school away from you.\"\n\nThe young teacher's countenance fell. It was true; her employment\ndid, in some measure, depend on the good-will of this man.\n\nShe choked with the thought, then broke out again.\n\n\"The hypocrite! I have seen him at prayer-meetings, and heard him\nmake long prayers and pious speeches.\"\n\n{457}\n\nThe mother sighed, and remained silent. She had been wont to\ncheck her daughter's somewhat free animadversions, and to make an\neffort, at least, to defend them of whom Anne said, \"Their life\nlaughs through and spits at their creed;\" but now the bitter\ntruth came too near.\n\nThere was a moment of silence, the children sitting still and\nawed, the mother waiting despondently, while the fatherless girl,\nwho was the sole dependence of the household, did some rapid\nbrain-work.\n\n\"You think he really means it, mother?\" she asked, without\npausing in her walk.\n\n\"Yes, there is no hope. I almost went on my knees to him.\"\n\nThere the widow's self-control broke down suddenly, and, putting\nher hands over her face, she burst into a passion of tears.\n\nIt is a terrible thing to see one's mother cry in that way; to\nsee her, who soothed our childish sorrows, who seemed to us the\nfountain of all comfort, herself sorrowing, while we have no\ncomfort to give.\n\nAnne Lane's face grew pale with pain, and it seemed for a moment\nthat she, too, would lose courage. But she was a brave girl, and\nlove strengthened her.\n\n\"There, there, mother!\" she said. \"Don't cry! I guess we can make\nout some way. Couldn't we do with two rooms? I could sleep with\nyou and Nell, and Frank could have a pillow out here on the\nsofa.\"\n\n\"I thought of that,\" the mother sobbed drearily. \"But he said\nthat the rooms go together.\"\n\nThe girl's breath came like that of some wild creature at bay.\n\n\"Then we must draw in our expenses somewhere. We must give up our\nseats in church, and I will do the washing.\"\n\n\"I meant to do the washing, dear,\" her mother said eagerly. \"And\nperhaps I might get some work out of the shops. You know I have a\ngood deal of time to spare.\"\n\nEven as she spoke, a sharp cough broke through her words, and her\nface flushed painfully.\n\n\"No, mother, no!\" the daughter said, resolutely holding back her\ntears. \"You are not able to work. Just leave that to me. Washing\nmakes round arms, and I find my elbows getting a little sharp. I\ncan save money and bring the dimples back at the same time.\"\n\nThere was a knock at the door, and their laundress came in, a\nsober, sensible-looking Irishwoman.\n\n\"Good-evening, ma'am! Good-evening, miss! No, I won't sit down. I\nmust go home and take my young ones off the street, and give 'em\na bit of supper. I just stepped in to see if you want your\nwashing done to-morrow.\"\n\nMrs. Lane looked appealingly to her daughter to answer.\n\n\"We are sorry, Mrs. Conners,\" Anne said, \"but we shall have to do\nour own washing, this winter.\"\n\n\"O Lord!\" cried the woman, leaning against the wall.\n\n\"There is no help for it,\" the girl continued, almost sharply,\nfeeling that their own distresses were enough for them to bear.\n\"Our rent has been raised, and we must save all we can.\"\n\n\"Oh! what'll I do, at all?\" exclaimed the woman, lifting both\nhands.\n\n\"Why, the best you can; just as we do,\" was the impatient reply.\n\nMrs. Conners looked at them attentively, and for the first time\nperceived signs of trouble in their faces.\n\n{458}\n\n\"The Lord pity us!\" she said. \"I don't blame you. But my rent is\nraised, too. I've got to pay five dollars a month for the rooms I\nhave, and I don't know where I'll get it. It's little I thought\nto come to this when Patrick was alive--the Lord have mercy on\nhim! The last thing he said to me when he went away to California\nwas, 'Margaret, keep up courage, and don't let the children on\nthe street; and I'll send you money enough to live on; and I'll\nsoon come back and buy us a little farm.' And all I ever heard of\nhim, since the day he left me, is the news of his death. Now I'll\nhave to take the children and go to the poor-house. All I could\ndo last winter only kept their mouths full, let alone rent. I\ncouldn't put a stitch on them nor me; and you wouldn't believe\nhow cold I am with no stockings to my feet, and little enough\nunder my rag of a dress. I couldn't buy coal nor wood. The\nchildren picked up sticks in the street, and after my work was\nover I had to go down to the dump, and pick coal till my back was\nbroke.\"\n\n\"Who is your landlord?\" Mrs. Lane asked.\n\n\"Mr. Mahan--Andrew Mahan, that lives in a big house in the\nsquare. And he asks five dollars for two rooms in that shanty,\nthat's squeezed into a bit of a place where nothing else would\ngo. Besides, the house is so old that the rats have ate it half\nup, and what's left I could carry off on my back in a day. When\nMr. Mahan came to-day, his dog crawled through the door before it\nwas opened. I said to him, says I, 'Sir, when the wind and the\nrain take possession of a house, it belongs to God, and no man\nhas a right to ask rent for it.' You see, I was mad. And so was\nhe, by that same token.\"\n\n\"But he is an Irishman, and a member of your own church,\" said\nAnne.\n\n\"And why not?\" demanded the woman. \"Do you think that Yankees are\nthe only ones that grind the poor? Yes, Mr. Mahan is rich, and he\nlives in style, and sends his daughters to a convent school in\nMontreal. And often I've seen him in church, dressed in his\nbroad-cloths, and beating his breast, with his face the length of\nmy arm, and calling himself a sinner; and troth, I thought to\nmyself, 'that's true for ye!'\"\n\n\nAnne Lane went into her school-room\nthe next morning with a burning\nheart, and it did not soothe her feelings\nto see Mr. Sanborn, her landlord,\nappear at the door, a few minutes\nafter, smilingly escorting a clerical-looking\nstranger, who had come to visit the school.\n\nMr. Sanborn, though not an educated\nman, chose to consider himself\na patron of education; made himself\nexceedingly consequential in school\naffairs, and had now brought a distinguished\nvisitor to see his pet school,\nthe \"Excelsior.\" Anne Lane had one\nof the show-classes, and he began the\nexhibition with her.\n\n\"Commence, and go on with your\nexercises just as if there were no one\nhere,\" he said, with a patronizing\nsmile, after they had taken their\nseats. \"This gentleman wishes to\nsee the ordinary daily working of\nour system.\"\n\nThe first exercise was a reading\nfrom the Bible, and a prayer by the\nteacher, and Anne's fingers were\nunsteady as she turned over the leaves\nfor a chapter. Her eyes sparkled\nas she caught sight of one, and her\npulses tingled as she read, her fine,\ndeliberate enunciation and strong emphasis\narresting fully the attention of\nher hearers:\n\n \"Times are not hid from the Almighty:\n but they that know him, know not his days.\n\n \"Some have removed landmarks,\n have taken away flocks by force, and fed them.\n\n{459}\n\n \"They have violently robbed the fatherless, and stripped the\n poor common people.\n\n \"They have taken their rest at noon among the stores of them,\n who after having trodden the wine-presses suffer thirst.\n\n \"Out of the cities they have made men to groan; and God will\n not suffer it to pass unrevenged.\n\n \"Cursed be his portion upon the earth: let him not walk by the\n way of the vineyards.\n\n \"Let him pass from snow-water to excessive heat, and his sin\n even to hell.\n\n \"Let mercy forget him: may worms be his sweetness; let him be\n remembered no more, but be broken in pieces like an unfruitful\n tree.\"\n\nClosing the book then, Anne Lane dropped her face into her\nshaking hands, and repeated, almost inaudibly, the Lord's prayer.\n\nMr. Sanborn was not dull, but he was incredulous. It was almost\nimpossible that this little school-mistress would dare to mean\n_him_. Yet that new sternness in the young face, ordinarily\nso smiling, the passion in her voice, with the remembrance of his\nlast interview with Mrs. Lane, altogether made up a pretty strong\ncase against her.\n\n\"She makes a strange selection from the Scriptures to read to\nchildren,\" whispered the stranger to him, as Anne hurriedly went\nthrough with the first recitations.\n\n\"Very strange, sir! very strange!\" answered the other, stammering\nwith anger. \"And what is worse, it is intended as an insult to\nme. I have found it necessary to raise the rent of my houses. She\nis a tenant of mine, and this is her revenge. I hope, sir, that\nif you have anything to say on the subject, you will not hesitate\nto speak freely.\"\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Markham sat and considered the case, laying down\ncertain points in his mind. Firstly, women should be sweet,\nhumble, and modest. Secondly, sweetness, modesty, and humility,\nwith firmness and patience, should especially characterize a\nteacher of youth. Thirdly, persons in authority, clergymen,\nschool-committee men, etc., should be treated with scrupulous\nrespect by all their subordinates.\n\nThe reverend gentleman put on his spectacles, the better to see\nthis young woman who had so boldly vetoed his fundamental\ndoctrines. She held herself very erect, no modest droop whatever;\nthere was a little flicker of heat-lightning in her eyes, and a\nsteady, dark-red spot on each cheek; moreover, she had red hair.\nVerdict for the plaintiff. She must have a reprimand, a warning,\nand, on repetition of the offence, must be informed that she is\nno longer considered a suitable person to mould the minds of\nyouth.\n\nPoor little Anne Lane! This great, stupid, conceited man did not\ndream that her aching heart was laden with sweetness as a hive\nwith honey, and that what he called a sweet woman was a\nsugar-coated woman. He did not allow that there might be some\nexceptions to his third rule. The reprimand was delivered\npitilessly, the warning made sufficiently plain then, the two\ngentlemen withdrew, leaving the teacher pale and stunned. The\nvisitor had taken the coldest possible leave, and Mr. Sanborn had\nnot noticed her at all.\n\n\"Oh! why did I yield to anger?\" she thought, in terror and\ndistress. \"What right have the poor to feelings, to thoughts? How\ndare they denounce wrong, even when they die by it? What was I\nthinking of?\"\n\nA thrill of pain ran through her every nerve at this last\nquestion.\n\n{460}\n\nShe had been thinking all the time of her mother's sobbing words,\n\"I almost went on my knees to him!\"\n\nThe month crept on toward Christmas. Unknown to her daughter,\nMrs. Lane had spent day after day going about the shops and\nvainly soliciting work. She had not sufficient clothing to\nprotect her from the weather; she was weakened by sorrow and\nanxiety, and the disease, which had long been threatening and\nreaching out for her, made a final grasp. With a terror, all the\nmore terrible in that she could not speak of it, she felt her\nlungs give way and her breath grow shorter. What would her young\nchildren do without her? If she should be long ill, how were the\ndoctor's bills to be paid? How were the funeral expenses to be\nmet? What crushing burden, beside the sorrow, was she going to\nlay upon the already burdened shoulders of her poor little girl?\nShe only prayed that the blow might fall swiftly. Poor people\ncan't afford to die leisurely.\n\nOne day, about a week before Christmas, Anne came home and found\nher mother lying senseless upon the floor. Mrs. Lane had held up\nas long as she could, and now her powers of endurance were gone.\nBut she had her prayer, for the blow fell swiftly. On Christmas\nmorning all her troubles passed away.\n\nChristmas evening came, and all was still in the house. The\nneighbors had kindly done what they could, and two of them sat\nwith the lifeless form of what had once been the mother of these\nchildren. Frank and Nell had cried themselves to sleep, and Anne\nwas left with the night upon her hands. She could not sleep, and\nshe could not pray. The faith that comforts in sorrow she knew\nnot. She had wept till her head reeled, and the air of the house\nstifled her.\n\n\"I must get out and take the air, or I shall go crazy,\" she\nthought. And, dressing hastily, she went out into the bright and\nfrosty night. She wandered aimlessly about the streets, scarcely\nknowing where she went; not caring, indeed, so long as she walked\nand felt the wind in her face.\n\n\"Christ on earth?\" she thought. \"I don't believe it! It's all a\nfable.\"\n\nOn her way she met Mrs. Conners, weeping bitterly. She was going\nto the watch-house after her little girl. Biddy had stolen a\nturkey from a shop-window, and a policeman had caught her.\n\n\"It is the first thing the child ever stole,\" the poor woman\nsaid; \"and what made her do it was hunger. We haven't had a taste\nof meat in the house this month, and poor Biddy heard the other\ngirls tell what they had for dinner, and it made her mad.\"\n\nAnne listened as one in a dream, and went on without a word.\nPresently she came into a sharp glare of light that fell across\nthe sidewalk from a brilliantly illuminated window. She paused to\nlook in, not because she cared what it was, but because she\nlonged for distraction. There was a long suite of parlors,\nshowily if not tastefully furnished, and filled with a gay\ncompany, many of them children. In the farthest end of the rooms\nstood a magnificent Christmas-tree, decked with colored candles,\nflowers, and fruits, and hanging full of presents. The company\nwere all assembled about the tree, and, as she looked, a smiling\ngentleman stepped up, with the air of a host, and began to\ndistribute the Christmas gifts.\n\nAnne Lane's heart stood still when she recognized Mr. Sanborn.\n\n{461}\n\n\"O you murderer!\" she moaned, as she sank exhausted on the icy\nsteps. \"Your candles and your flowers are red with my mother's\nblood!\"\n\nWhen the Christmas angels looked down upon the earth that night\nto see how fared the millions, to whom in the morning they had\nsung their song of joy, their eyes beheld alike the rich man in\nhis parlor and the stricken girl who lay outside his door.\n\nDid they record of him that he had \"kept the feast,\" and worthily\nremembered one who came that day \"to fill the hungry with good\nthings\"?\n\nOr did they write against him the fearful judgment which had once\nalready sounded in his ears,\n\n \"Let mercy forget him:\n Let him be remembered no more\"?\n\n ----------\n\n The General Convention Of The Protestant Episcopal Church.\n\n\nThe General Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church, which\nhas just closed its labors, was looked forward to with much\ninterest by all Episcopalians. Each of the two important sections\nof which their communion is composed was anxious for a better\nexplanation of some disputed points, or, at least, for a\nvindication of its own interpretation of doctrine. It was\nsupposed that something would be settled in regard to the many\nvexed questions of dogma and ritual which perplex the public no\nless than the members of the church itself. For even the public\nare interested to know what a church believes and professes, and\nespecially if that church makes any pretensions to authority. On\na careful review, however, of the journal, we believe that, while\na few are gratified, many are disappointed. Some are gratified\nthat no direct attack was allowed against their own favorite\nopinions; while both High-Churchmen and Low-Churchmen stand\nprecisely where they stood before, no nearer each other, and no\nbetter satisfied with the condition of things. Moderation, we are\ntold, is the characteristic of the Episcopal Church, by which we\nare led to understand the sweet blending of contrarieties and\ncontradictions, and the permission to every one to believe what\napproves itself to his private judgment. Catholics can hardly\ncomprehend such a harmony in discord, or discord in harmony. Even\ncandid minds, with no religious bias, are unable to appreciate\nhow contrary doctrines can be held in one and the same church,\nand by equal authority. Our own opinion of this convention is,\nthat it has accomplished nothing for doctrine, nothing to heal\nthe disputes of its members, very little for discipline, and not\nvery much for the extension of the Episcopal communion, although\nsome of the plans proposed are good in themselves. We strongly\nincline to think that very many Episcopalians will coincide with\nour judgment. Under these three heads--of doctrine, discipline,\nand church extension--let us briefly review the labors of the\nconvention.\n\n{462}\n\nI. It seems that the Nicene Creed was under consideration, and\nthat there was a strong intention to restore it to its \"original\nform;\" but the _Church Record_ says that it was left\nuntouched _for the present_. If this important and ancient\nsymbol had been altered, there would have been quite an advance\nin doctrine. A committee has been appointed to prepare an\naccurate translation from the original Greek for the use of the\nnext convention. It therefore bides its time, when the same body\nwhich expunged the Athanasian Creed may leave out the proper\ndoctrine of the Trinity, or the procession of the Holy Ghost from\nthe Son, or the communion of saints, or any other point of\nChristian dogma. Nevertheless, by this convention nothing was\ndone on this subject.\n\nThe project of bracketing those portions of the Prayer-Book which\nembody the doctrine of baptismal regeneration was not favored by\nthe committee on canons; and a motion to refer a proposition for\nstriking out the words, \"Whosesoever sins thou dost remit, they\nare remitted,\" was very summarily disposed of. It was decided not\nto alter anything, to leave regeneration in the baptismal service\nfor the gratification of High-Churchmen, and also the denial of\nit in the Articles for the consolation of Low-Churchmen.\n\nThis was the wisest course, and on this point we record with\nsatisfaction, \"Nothing done.\"\n\nAs to the ordinal, the bishops are not obliged to say, \"Whose\nsins thou dost remit,\" etc., when they do not believe it, as it\nis only to be used at option, and can therefore put the whole\noffensive doctrine in their pockets. Why, then, should the wisdom\nof an ecclesiastical body be disturbed on a mere matter of\nopinion? Here, again, nothing was done.\n\nSo by the convention in both orders, nothing has been done in the\nway of doctrine, save to leave all matters precisely as they\nwere, in full freedom for both sides. And here an anecdote comes\nforcibly to our memory which illustrates the moderation and\nliberty of the Episcopal communion. A young candidate was under\nexamination for deacon's orders before one of the oldest and\nwisest of the High-Church bishops. \"How,\" said that prelate, \"do\nyou receive the Thirty-nine Articles?\" \"I receive them,\" said the\ncandidate, \"in such a way as not to contradict the rest of the\nPrayer-Book.\" \"Perfectly right,\" replied the bishop; \"and\nmoreover, it is the General Convention which imposes the articles\nupon you, and this body is composed of all degrees of churchmen,\nfrom those who hang on the walls of Rome to those who breathe the\natmosphere of Geneva. Between these two extremes, my son, you\nhave perfect liberty.\" And the young man was made a deacon, and\nwent away rejoicing that he had freedom of conscience and a wide\nrange of opinion, which he certainly had. But if the Lower House,\nconsisting of ministers and laymen, has been so prudent, the\nUpper House has terribly committed itself. In the Catholic Church\nthe bishops alone are allowed to give judicial opinions in\ndoctrine; while among the Episcopalians, we believe that both\nhouses of the convention are equally authoritative, and, that one\nhas a negative upon the other. What the bishops have done,\ntherefore, does not propose to bind the conscience of any one, we\npresume; yet certainly their solemn pastoral ought to be received\nwith great respect, and be considered at least as an indication\nof the doctrinal position of their church. In this pastoral, we\nfind some remarkably interesting points, in regard to which,\nthough we may say nothing was _done_, we cannot say nothing\nwas spoken.\n\n{463}\n\nThis address to the whole Episcopalian body asserts first that\n\"the incarnate God hath committed the great commission wherewith\nhe came into the world to _fallible_ men.\" What, then, is to\nprevent the utter failure of this great commission, and the\ncomplete ruin of all Christ's work? \"To his ministers,\" saith the\npastoral, \"thus weak and subject to error, he hath given his\ninfallible word, that, without peril of misleading their flock,\nthey may instruct them with all authority by speaking always\naccording to the Scriptures.\" Who is to know, then, that these\nministers speak according to the Scriptures, especially when they\ndiffer one from another? Bishop Lee spoke very plainly at the\nopening of the convention, and his interpretation of the\nScriptures gave some offence. Common sense pauses for a reply.\nEach one must decide for himself whether his minister speaks\naccording to the Bible; and this being granted (which is the\nfundamental position of all Protestant bodies) we do not see the\nuse of ministers, much less of bishops, much less of a council of\nbishops. Christ's great commission, according to the Episcopalian\nprelates, hinges on the chance that the Bible will be circulated\nand rightly interpreted. The history of religion since the\nReformation does not cause us to think much of this chance.\n\nThe next point asserted in the pastoral is the necessity of\ncommunion with the visible church. It is indeed asserted somewhat\nequivocally, and with a _caveat_, that \"the proper\nindividuality of every soul must not be merged in its corporate\nrelations to the body of Christ,\" an expression which we do not\nat all understand. How the merging is to be accomplished we do\nnot see, unless by some physical process, and we are very glad\nthe bishops do not recommend it. Yet they say that \"the necessity\nof membership in the communion of which Christ is the head, is a\ntruth of vital importance.\" We presume they mean here a union\nwith the _visible_ body of Christ, for otherwise they would\nreally assert nothing, since what Christian denies the necessity\nof union with Christ? And again, where would be the danger of\nmerging an individual in an invisible body?\n\nBut then comes the great question, Where is the body of Christ,\nwith which membership is necessary? Do the bishops mean to say it\nis the Episcopal Church, and that it is necessary to belong to\ntheir communion in order to be saved? We do not really know what\nthey mean, but are quite persuaded that they do not intend to\nunchurch all the rest of mankind, and hence come to the\nconclusion that these words are to be taken in a figurative\nsense, that having spoken _much_ they have said nothing.\n\nNow comes the great trouble which oppresses the prelates. \"The\nunscriptural and _uncatholic_ pretensions of the Bishop of\nRome, as in times past, so now, are a fruitful source of error\nand evil.\" The pope has done all the mischief, he did it in the\nearly times, he did it in the middle ages, and he will keep doing\nit now. What is it that he does \"which is the bar to the\nrestoration of the unity of Christendom?\" Why, he fulfils the\npromise of our Lord: \"Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will\nbuild my church.\"\n{464}\nThere is no visible body without a head, and he is that head by\nthe appointment of Christ. We think the blame ought to be laid\nupon him who founded the church and made the Papacy. He made his\nchurch to be _one_, with one head, when it seems that he\nought to have made it capable of division.\n\nThe bishops then urge upon their brethren to teach that \"Jesus\nChrist is the living centre of unity;\" that \"his true vicar is\nthe Holy Ghost;\" that \"the visible expression of catholic unity\nis the apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the breaking of bread\nand prayers.\"\n\nIs it the English language which here we read, and is it our\nmother-tongue which thus is made to confuse our minds? If any one\nunderstands these phrases, we compliment him upon his sagacity.\nWe do not honestly believe that the venerable prelate who wrote\nthem knows what he means, or intends others to know.\n\n\"Jesus Christ is the living centre of unity.\" Certainly; but we\nhave been speaking of a _visible_ unity, and Jesus Christ is\nnot visible to us. The vicar of Christ is the Holy Ghost, a\nsingular office for the third person-of the undivided Trinity,\nand he is not visible either. The invisible Christ has an\ninvisible vicar on earth, and this is the coequal and coeternal\nSpirit! The visible expression of Catholic unity is the\n\"apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the breaking of bread and\nprayers.\"\n\nOh! for the good and honest heart among the Episcopalians to see\nthat these words are empty sounds which mean nothing at all.\n\"Where is the apostles' doctrine and fellowship?\" Is it in the\nEpiscopal Church alone, and if not, where is it? The bishops\nought to have said that _their_ doctrine was the apostles',\nthat _their_ fellow ship was the apostles', or if they had\ndoubts on the point, they should have told us unequivocally where\nto find these important and absolutely necessary \"expressions of\ncatholic unity.\" We are here reminded of an old negro who in our\nyoung days used to speak Latin fluently; but as his phrases were\nmade up of plural genitives, we could only hear the sonorous\n\"_Bonorum, filiorum, malorum, optimorum_,\" without\ncomprehending one single word. In like manner, with at least the\ncommon intelligence which God has given us, we do not comprehend\nthis pastoral, unless it really means, in circumlocution, to say\nnothing.\n\nThe bishops then go on to defend the Anglican reformation, and\nhold up to condemnation the attempts made by some High-Churchmen\nto disparage it. And in this connection they \"especially condemn\nany doctrine of the Holy Eucharist which implies that after\nconsecration the proper nature of bread and wine does not remain,\nwhich _localizes_ in them the bodily presence of our Lord,\nwhich allows any adoration other than that of Christ himself.\"\nHere we do think the prelates have said something, and we can\nunderstand what they mean. We would have preferred that they\nshould have used language more direct, and without any\ninsinuations. But we understand them to say that the bread and\nwine are unchanged by their consecration, and that there is no\npresence of Christ at all in the Eucharist. For as he is very\nman, his presence must necessarily be a _bodily_ one, and\nmust be localized. We Catholics adore the blessed sacrament only\nbecause it is Christ himself; because the bread and wine are\nchanged into his body.\n{465}\nThe bishops here deny any such presence of Christ, and go on to\nassert that the humanity of our Lord is only to be found at the\nright hand of God in heaven.\n\nFor this reason, very appropriately, the ceremonies of the\nritualists are denounced, because they are built upon a doctrine\nwhich supposes Christ to be present on the altar. Will it now be\nbelieved that the organ of the ritualists, in New York, expresses\nitself pleased with this part of the pastoral? We blush for the\ninsincerity and dishonesty of men who love to call themselves\n\"_Catholic priests_.\" They are satisfied with this open\ndenial of any real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and \"they\nwill work on with new vigor, cheered and _sustained_ by the\nadmonitions of their fathers in God.\" If such admonitions cheer\nthem, what kind of admonition would dishearten them?\n\nNo, my friends, you are not cheered, nor sustained; but being\ndetermined to make the best of your cause, you strive to look\npleasant. God is the judge. You may deceive yourselves and\nmislead others, but you are responsible to him for calling white\nblack, and black white.\n\nOn questions of doctrine we find, then, that the convention has\ndone nothing, save that the bishops have asserted, on their own\nauthority, that Christ's commission has been committed to a\n_fallible_ instrumentality; that communion with the body of\nChrist is necessary, while no instructions are given as to what\nand where that body is to be found; that the pope is the great\nobstacle to catholic unity; that the vicar of our Lord on earth\nis the Holy Ghost; that the Anglican reformation is good and to\nbe imitated; that there is no presence whatever of Christ in the\nHoly Eucharist; and that the extravagances of the ritualists are\nentirely to be condemned.\n\nWe do not remember any ecclesiastical body which has said more\nstriking things than these; but as no canons have been made, we\nmust only take them as the opinions of the bishops of the\nProtestant Episcopal Church in 1868.\n\nII. In regard to discipline, we find that there were discussions\non many subjects, but that very few laws were passed.\n\nIn the early part of the session, an attempt was made to change\nthe name of their body from \"General Convention\" to \"National\nCouncil,\" or something similar. The disputes were quite racy, one\nmember insisting that \"convention\" was a _dirty_ word. But\nthe delegates were unwilling to rebaptize themselves, and after\nthree or four days the whole thing was dropped.\n\nThe singing by the boys in surplices, which we believe is usual\nin Trinity chapel, was so much objected to by some of the\nmembers, that they withdrew from the church during the service,\nuntil the point was conceded and the boys were put away. No\ncanon, however, was introduced on this subject. Shortly after,\nthe sessions of the deputies were removed to the church of the\nTransfiguration, where the _Church Record_ tells us that\n\"the music was led by some of the deputies, and a beautiful\nmarble altar, with a _large_ brass cross, and a pair of\ncandlesticks _with candles_, added to the solemnity of the\nscene.\" We are glad that our ritualistic friends had such great\nconsolations.\n\n{466}\n\nThe question of adopting the provincial system of the Catholic\nChurch, which would have practically made Dr. Potter an\narchbishop and Bishop Smith a kind of patriarch, was under\nconsideration, but finally gave way to the \"federation of\ndioceses,\" which means, we believe, the small convention of a few\ndioceses, instead of the large one of them all. The small one is,\nhowever, to be subject to the large one.\n\nA canon was passed that no clergyman shall unite in marriage any\ndivorced persons having a husband or wife living, except the\ninnocent party in a suit for divorce on the ground of adultery.\nThis is a great advance toward the law promulgated by our Lord,\nSt. Matthew v. 32 and xix. 9. The next time they will probably\ntake the whole verse, and adopt the latter clause, as well as the\nformer. We congratulate the Episcopal Church upon this really\nserious improvement in a practice pregnant with great evil.\n\nSome canons were also adopted concerning clerical support and the\ntrials of ministers, which have no general interest and need not\nhere be enumerated.\n\nThe Rev. Mr. Tyng and his friends were quite anxious to get the\ncanon, in pursuance of which he was admonished, altered or\ninterpreted; but after several discussions they failed to\naccomplish anything favorable to their cause, the temper of the\nmajority of the convention being adverse to any changes. A slight\namendment to what the _Church Record_ calls the \"canon on\n_intrusion_\" was passed, and the officiating of\n_dissenting_ ministers is positively forbidden. The most\nunpleasant part of this matter is that, in the opinion of the\nLow-Churchmen, the canon is not yet quite clear. They do not\nunderstand it as some of their brethren do; and we are told that,\neven during the session of the convention, the Rev. Mr. Tyng\npermitted a Presbyterian minister to preach in his church.\n\nA very important improvement was made, however, by which Catholic\npriests who leave the church, and desire to become Episcopalian\nministers, shall be put upon a longer probation. Heretofore only\nsix months were necessary; now a full year is required. We think\nthis change important for the Episcopal Church, because, as far\nas our experience goes, priests, who put themselves in such a\nposition, require quite a long period to fit themselves for so\nhonorable a profession. We hope, for the well-being of the\nProtestant Episcopal ministry, they will at the next convention\nextend this probation to six years. They may rest assured they\nwill have no cause to regret it.\n\nThe subject of ritual attracted considerable attention. Various\nmemorials were presented against the innovations of late days, by\nwhich the practices of the Catholic Church have been fitted into\nthe Prayer-Book. It was proposed to prohibit by canon the wearing\nof other vestments than the surplice, black stole, bands, and\ngown; surpliced choirs, candlesticks, crucifixes, super-altars,\nbowing at the name of Jesus, the use of the sign of the cross,\nelevation of the _elements_ or _of the alms_, and the\nuse of incense. After some excitement, the whole matter was\nreferred to the committee on canons, who, being divided in\nopinion, gave two contradictory reports. The majority report\nrecommends moderation and forbearance, that every one be careful\nto do right, and that then there can be no just cause of offence.\nIn any doubt as to what is right, reference should be made to the\nOrdinary, whose godly counsel in each diocese should be the rule\nof opinion.\n{467}\nThe minority of the committee were in favor of passing a law\nforbidding the objectionable practices which we have enumerated.\nAfter a very protracted discussion, neither of the reports was\naccepted; but a resolution was adopted which asks \"the House of\nBishops to set forth at the next convention such additional\nrubrics in the Book of Common Prayer as, in their judgment, may\nbe decided necessary;\" and that in the meanwhile reference should\nbe made in each case to the diocesan. The House of Bishops\nreplied that, while they would not think of altering the\nPrayer-Book, they would consider the whole subject, with a view\nto action, if it should be thought expedient at the next\nconvention.\n\nThus the whole matter is postponed for three years, and, in the\ninterim, ritualists must seek such dioceses as are favorable to\ntheir views. While Dr. Potter has no objection to the use of\nCatholic vestments, we see no reason why Dr. Dix and his friends\nshould not come out at once with the chasuble and the incense. We\nearnestly hope, for the cause of honesty and truth, that they\nwill do so. The case is different under the _r\u00e9gimes_ of\nBishops Coxe and McIlvaine who are seriously opposed to any\nalterations of the existing ritual. Ritualists must migrate to\nthe bishops whose godly counsels will allow them freedom of\naction. It is true, as we have seen, that the pastoral of the\nwhole House of Bishops condemns their practices; but in spite of\nthis each one of the prelates may have his own counsel, \"not\nhaving merged his individuality in his corporate relations to the\nbody of Christ.\"\n\nIII. It remains to consider what the convention has done in\nregard to the extension of their own church, as was its first\ninterest. Under this head we can briefly review what was said\nupon the relations of the Episcopal Church to other Christian\nbodies, and the views expressed by the deputies upon the\ncondition and growth of their own communion.\n\nIn regard to other Christian denominations, the Episcopal Church\nis singularly unfortunate. It has communion with no other body of\nChristians in the entire world. It objects to the other\nProtestant sects, on the ground that they are irregular, and\nrefuses to allow any of their ministers to officiate in its\nchurches, as we have seen by \"the canon on intrusion.\" It calls\nitself a _branch_ of the catholic church, that is to say,\nthose who speak for it call it by this title. The other branches\nare the Eastern churches and the Roman Catholic Church; at least,\nwe are told so by those who say anything on this branch theory.\nWith these other branches the Episcopal Church has no communion,\nhowever, and is not likely to have any. Nothing need be said of\nthe Roman Church, for its action and language have always been\ndecided and clear. But the Eastern branches have condemned the\nAnglican doctrine and orders much more plainly than the\nEpiscopalians have condemned their Protestant brethren. Not one\nsingle instance has been found where a Greek bishop has been\nwilling to give communion to a member of the Anglican branch,\nwithout the abjuration of his errors; and the rejection of the\norders of the English ministers is as unequivocal in the East as\nit is in the West. Moreover, the doctrines specially condemned by\nthe Thirty-nine Articles are held as firmly in the Eastern branch\nas in the Western. With all due respect, therefore, we agree with\nBishop Lee, and say that, if the Episcopal Church is not a\nProtestant church, it has no right to be a church at all. Why\nthen do our High-Church friends hanker after the patronage of the\nGreek Church?\n{468}\nIt will not help them any as far as the Catholics are concerned,\nand it will certainly fail to make the disinterested public think\nany better of their claims. They may go upon their faces before\nthe Archbishop of Moscow, and \"compromise themselves;\" but though\nlike a gentleman he will treat them with courtesy, he will have a\nmeaner opinion of them, and in his heart will say, \"Gentlemen, if\nyou have no feet of your own to stand upon, it seems to me you\nhad better sit down.\"\n\nThe High-Churchmen, who seemed to have had the upper hand in the\nconvention, have established a committee on church unity. This\nable body is to labor on this important subject, with probably\nthe same results as hitherto. No care seems to be given to the\nthousand Protestant bodies who came into the world either before\nor after the Episcopal Church. They are out of the question, and,\nif they want religious unity, must look for it by themselves. But\nall attention is devoted to the East, where, if they could get\neven a passing smile, as if of recognition, it would do their\nhearts good. Perhaps now they will get it, because they have gone\nso far as to recognize the jurisdiction of the Greek Church in\nAlaska. The _Church Record_ calls this a great advance, and\nwe suppose it means that they will send no ministers to Alaska,\nbecause, if they did, it would conflict with the authority of the\nGreek bishop. This makes it bad for any Episcopalian who may go\nup there, since they will have no church to go to. The Greek\nChurch will not admit them to its communion, and they cannot have\nany, of their own. The upholders of the branch-theory must,\nhowever, put up with this small inconvenience.\n\nThree years are now to be spent in making an accurate translation\nof the Nicene Creed in \"the original Greek.\" Then we expect to\nsee \"the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son\" omitted in\nthe Prayer-Book. The question is not whether it is true, or\nwhether the Scriptures teach it. The only question is, Does the\nEastern branch receive it? If it does not, then it must go. But\nwe venture to inquire if the learned committee has made itself\nsure that the authorities at Moscow will be satisfied with this\nsimple concession. We know that there is no evidence like that of\nsight, and hence respectfully recommend the authorities of the\nconvention to go to the East, and there ask for a recognition.\nThen, when three years come around, we shall hear some positive\nanswer. It would be a pity to alter the Creed, without any\nrecompense whatever.\n\nSympathy is also expressed with the Italians who are trying to\nsubvert the temporal power of the pope, and especially with those\npriests who would like to reform the Catholic Church after the\nmodel of the Anglican communion. One gentleman of much\ninformation asked, in the convention, if there really was any\nmovement of the kind in Italy. He said he had read many travels,\nand had travelled himself extensively, and had never seen or\nheard of any _good_ priests who were disposed to turn\nProtestants, and as for the bad ones, he had not much faith in\nthem. The committee replied that, in their opportunities for\ncorrespondence, they had seen much, and the results would one day\nappear. We wait in patience, then, to see how many good and moral\npriests will appear in what will probably be called the\nProtestant Episcopal Church in Italy.\n{469}\nAs the East, however, is nearer to them than the United States,\nand as England is somewhat passive, we would suggest that this\nnew church be placed, for a time at least, under the jurisdiction\nof some Greek bishop. This will be more convenient, and less\nlikely to offend, because the Greek bishops cannot marry as the\nAnglican bishops have power to do. But then a perplexing question\nwill arise. If the Eastern branch has jurisdiction in Alaska, has\nnot the Roman branch some jurisdiction in Italy? This is among\nthe perplexities of the branch theory. To plain common sense, a\nchurch with branches is not _one_ church, and to Catholics\nthe ultra-Protestant theory is far more tenable. We believe,\ntherefore, that the efforts toward church union will only prove\nmore plainly the isolation of the Episcopal Church from all other\nChristian bodies. We are for the largest liberty possible with\ntruth, but we are not for falsehood; and we have a right to\ndemand that a man shall call himself what he _is_, and not\npersist in calling himself what he _is not_.\n\nThe view of the state of the church given by the committee is\nquite a favorable one, though we do not see that Episcopalians\nare largely increasing by conversion. Several new dioceses were\nformed, which will, no doubt, divide labor if they do not\nmultiply population. The most important subject which engrossed\nthe convention was that of education; and the principle, so long\nacted upon by the Catholic Church, was virtually adopted.\n\nIt was resolved to establish parochial schools wherever possible,\nin order to save the young from perversion by the many popular\nerrors of our day. We earnestly hope that this resolution will\ngenerally be acted upon. It is quite evident that any\ndenomination which has positive doctrines to teach must take care\nearly to teach its children the principles of faith, and that a\nsystem of education without Christianity is effectually an\ninfidel system. When the Episcopalians shall have built their\nparochial schools, they will be able to appreciate the labors of\nCatholics, who, far poorer, and far more numerous, have never\nbeen willing to trust their children to the public schools. Then\nperhaps they will unite with us in asking the state legislatures\nfor a just proportion of the funds raised by taxation and devoted\nto the education of the young. We could never see anything but\nsimple justice in this demand. The action of the Episcopal\nConvention, if carried out, will be an advance in favor of our\npractice, and an argument for the propriety of our claims.\n\nThe bishops express themselves in their pastoral as anxious to\npromote the works of mercy and education, by the establishment of\ncommunities of men and women. We understand that such\norganizations are to be devoted to the service of the poor, sick,\nand ignorant, and that they are to be modelled after the plan of\nour Christian Brothers or our Sisters of Charity and Mercy. They\nare to be, however, \"free from ensnaring vows or enforced\nconfessions.\" The members are to come and go when they please,\nand devote themselves to the labors of the community as long as\nthey are disposed, free to leave, without scruple, at any time.\nWe fear that on such principles communities would not hold\ntogether long, nor always act together but we are very desirous\nthat the Episcopalians should thoroughly try them. Confession is\nto be permitted, it seems, when it is not forced; hence it would\nappear that the House of Bishops is in favor of _voluntary_\nconfession for the members of these proposed associations.\n{470}\nAny step of this kind is a great advance, for it leads the\nearnest mind toward the true Bride of the Lamb, \"whose clothing\nis of wrought gold.\" It is hard to see why voluntary confession\nshould be permitted to these communities and not to the\nEpiscopalians in general. But perhaps the bishops did not mean to\nfavor sacramental confession, although they would seem to do so\nby the language of the pastoral.\n\nIn this brief summary we have given what seems to us a candid\nreview of the work of the last Episcopal Convention, as it\ninterests Catholics and the public generally. If at any time\nthere has been anything savoring of the ridiculous or comical in\nour language, we beg our reader to refer it to the\nsubject-matter, and not to any intention of ours. He that makes\nassumptions of prerogatives to which he has no title will\ncertainly excite the laughter of his neighbors. The historian who\nsimply records facts is in no way to blame. When Episcopalian\nministers call themselves Catholic priests, people will\ninnocently laugh: and perhaps we ourselves, with all our\ncourtesy, could not refrain from a smile. In like manner, when a\nchurch isolates itself from all the world by claims which\neverybody else on earth denies to it, there is something of the\nridiculous in its position, and, while we may be pained, we are\nat the same time amused. If the committee on church union will\nonly labor a little harder, and once in a while travel abroad,\nthey may perhaps open the eyes of not a few.\n\nThe Episcopal Church must work either for us or for\nProtestantism. It has no harvest of its own to reap, and there is\nno middle ground for the honest mind. It has already sent many a\ngifted and pure soul to the home of truth and purity, and we\nCatholics are daily gathering in those whom it has led to our\ngates. We wish it God-speed in this work of conversion--in this,\nperhaps unintentional, labor of love. Let the so-called \"Catholic\npriests\" go on, and unprotestantize and catholicize their flocks.\nThey will never be able to feed the hunger they have excited, nor\nsatisfy the cravings of the heart in which God the Redeemer is\nshowing the marks of his love. We stand ready for them and their\nchildren, to show them a truth and beauty which are real--a\nchurch which is not the work of imagination, but a living\nreality, formed and sustained by the incarnate Word. God grant\nthat they sport not too long with shadows--that they delay not\ntoo long before the portals of Sion! \"The night cometh in which\nno man can work.\" \"He that hath ears to hear, let him hear.\"\n\n ----------\n\n{47l}\n\n Christmas.\n\n\n God an Infant--born to-day!\n Born to live, to die, for me!\n Bow, my soul; adoring say:\n \"Lord, I live, I die, for Thee.\"\n Humble then, but fearless, rise:\n Seek the manger where He lies.\n\n Tread with awe the solemn ground:\n Though a stable mean and rude,\n Wondering angels all around\n Throng the seeming solitude:\n Swelling anthems, as on high,\n Hymn a second Trinity. [Footnote 156]\n\n [Footnote 156: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are called\n by theologians \"The Earthly Trinity.\"]\n\n Lo, in bands of swathing wrapt,\n Meekly sleeps a tender Form:\n God on bed of straw is lapt!\n Breaths of cattle keep Him warm!\n King of glory, can it be\n Thou art thus for love of me?\n\n Hail, my Jesus, Lord of might!\n Who in tiny, helpless hand\n Thy creations infinite\n Holdest as a grain of sand!\n Hail, _my_ Jesus--all my own!\n Mine, as if but mine alone!\n\n God made Man, and Man made God--\n Natures Two in Person One,\n I adore Thy Precious Blood,\n Pulsing, burning to atone:\n I adore Thy Sacred Heart,\n Surest proof of what Thou art.\n\n{472}\n\n Hail, my Lady--full of grace!\n Maiden Mother, hail to thee!\n Poring on the radiant Face,\n Thine a voiceless ecstasy;\n Yet, sweet Mother, let me dare\n Join the worship of thy prayer.\n\n Mother of God--O wondrous name!\n Bending seraphs hail thee Queen.\n Mother of God--yet still the same\n Mary thou hast ever been:\n Still so lowly, though so great:\n Mortal, yet immaculate!\n\n O'er our exile's troubled sea,\n Thou the star, no sky shall dim:\n Christ our Light we owe to thee--\n Him to thee, and thee to Him.\n Take my heart, then: let it be\n Thine in Him, and His in thee.\n\n Joseph, hail--of gentlest power!\n Shadow of the Father thou:\n Thine to shield in danger's hour\n Whom thy presence comforts now.\n Mary trusts to thee her Child;\n He, His Mother undefiled.\n\n Teach me thou, then, how to live\n All for them--my only all;\n Looking to thy arm to give\n Help in trial or in fall;\n Till 'tis mine with thee to prove\n What it is to die of love.\n\n ----------\n\n{473}\n\n From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n Chapter XIV.\n\n\nAt seven o'clock everything was still quiet.\n\nFrom time to time Dr. Lorquin opened a window of the great hall\nand looked abroad. Nothing was stirring; even the fires had gone\nout.\n\nLouise, seated near her father, gazed sadly and tenderly upon\nhim. She seemed to fear that she would never again see him, and\nher reddened eyes showed that she had been weeping.\n\nHullin, though firm, showed signs of emotion.\n\nThe doctor and the Anabaptist, both grave and solemn in their\nmanner, were conversing, and Lagarmitte, behind the stove,\nlistened thoughtfully to their words.\n\n\"We have not only the right, but it is our duty to defend\nourselves,\" the doctor was saying. \"Our fathers cleared these\nwoods and cultivated the land. They are now rightfully ours.\"\n\n\"Doubtless,\" answered the Anabaptist; \"but it is written, Thou\nshalt not kill! Thou shalt not spill thy brother's blood!\"\n\nCatherine Lefevre, whom this view of matters annoyed, turned\nsuddenly from her work, saying:\n\n\"Then if we believed as you do, we would let the Germans and\nRussians drive us from house and home. Your religion is a famous\none for thieves! The Allies ask nothing better, I am sure. I do\nnot wish to insult you, Pelsly; you have been brought up in these\nnotions; but we will defend you despite yourself. I love to hear\nof peace, but not when the enemy is at our doors.\"\n\nPelsly remained mute from astonishment, and Doctor Lorquin could\nnot repress a smile.\n\nAt the same moment the door opened, and a sentry entered, crying:\n\n\"Master Jean-Claude, come! I believe they are advancing.\"\n\n\"I am coming, Simon,\" answered Hullin, rising. \"Embrace me,\nLouise. Courage, my child; fear not, all will go well.\"\n\nHe clasped her to his bosom and his eyes filled with tears. She\nseemed more dead than living.\n\n\"Be sure,\" said he to Catherine, \"to let no one go out or\napproach the windows.\"\n\nHe rushed from the house to the edge of the plateau, and cast his\neyes toward Grandfontaine and Framont, thousands of feet below\nhim.\n\nThe Germans had arrived the evening before, a few hours after the\nCossacks. They had passed the night, to the number of five or six\nthousand, in barns, stables, or under sheds, and were now\nclustering like ants, pouring from every door in tens and\ntwenties, and hurrying to buckle on knapsacks, fasten sabres, or\nfix bayonets.\n\nOthers--cavalry--Uhlans, Cossacks, hussars, in green, gray, and\nblue uniforms, faced with red or yellow, with caps of waxed cloth\nor lamb-skin, were hastily saddling their horses or rolling their\nblankets.\n\n{474}\n\nTrumpets were sounding at every street-corner, and drummers were\ntightening their drum-cords. Every phase of military life seemed\nthere.\n\nA few peasants, stretching their heads out of their windows,\ngazed at all this; women crowded at the garret-windows, and\ninnkeepers filled flasks.\n\nNothing escaped Hullin, and such scenes were not new to him, but\nLagarmitte was petrified with wonder.\n\n\"How many they are!\" he cried.\n\n\"Bah!\" returned Hullin; \"what does that matter? In my time, we\nannihilated three armies of fifty thousand each of that same race\nin six months, and we were not one to four. Rest easy, however;\nwe shall not have to kill all these; they will fly like hares.\nYou will see.\"\n\nThese judicious reflections uttered, he turned back to the\n_abatis_, and the two followed a path which had been made in\nthe snow a couple of days before. The snow, hardened by the\nfrost, had become ice, and the trees formed an impassable\nbarrier. Below lay the ruined road.\n\nAs he appeared, Jean-Claude saw the mountaineers from Dagsberg in\ngroups, twenty paces distant from each other, in round holes like\nnests which they had dug for themselves. These brave fellows were\nseated on their haversacks, their fox-skin caps pulled down over\ntheir heads and their muskets between their knees. They had only\nto rise to view the road fifty yards beneath them at the foot of\na very slippery slope.\n\n\"Ha, Master Jean-Claude! When is the work to begin?\"\n\n\"Easy, my boys; do not be impatient; in an hour you will have\nenough to do.\"\n\n\"So much the better.\"\n\n\"Aim well at the height of the breast, and don't expose\nyourselves more than you can help.\"\n\n\"Never fear for us, Master Jean-Claude.\"\n\n\"Do not forget to cease firing when Lagarmitte winds his horn; we\ncannot afford to lose powder.\"\n\nHe found Materne at his post, lighting his pipe; the old man's\nbeard was frozen almost solid.\n\n\"They seem to be in no hurry to attack,\" said Jean-Claude. \"Can\nit be that they will take another route through the mountains?\"\n\n\"Never fear it,\" answered the old man. \"They need the road for\ntheir artillery and baggage. Listen! The bugles are sounding,\n'Boots and saddles.' But do you know, Hullin,\" asked the hunter\nwith a low chuckle, \"what I saw a while ago in Grandfontaine? I\nsaw four Austrians knock old Dubreuil, the friend of the Allies,\ndown and thrash him well with sticks, the old wretch! It did my\nheart good. I suppose he refused some of his wine to his good\nfriends.\"\n\nHullin listened to no more; for, happening to cast his eyes to\nthe valley, he saw a regiment of infantry debouching on the road.\nBeyond, in the street, cavalry were advancing, five or six\nofficers galloping in front.\n\n\"At last!\" cried the old soldier, his face lighting up with a\nlook of fierce determination--\"at last!\"\n\nAnd dashing along the line, he cried:\n\n\"Attention, men of the Vosges!\"\n\nLagarmitte followed with his bugle. Ten minutes after, when the\ntwo, all breathless, had reached the pinnacle of the rock, they\nsaw the enemy's column fifteen hundred feet beneath them, about\nthree thousand strong, with their long white coats,\ncanvas-gaiters, bear-skin shakos, and red mustaches, their young\nofficers, sword in hand, curveting in the intervals between the\ncompanies, and from time to time turning round and shouting\nhoarsely, \"Forvertz! forvertz!\" while above the line the bayonets\nflashed and glittered in the sun.\n\n{475}\n\nThey were pressing on to the _abatis_ at the _pas de\ncharge_.\n\nOld Materne, too, saw the Germans advancing, and his keen eyes\ncould even note the individuals of the mass. In a moment he had\nchosen his quarry.\n\nIn the middle of the column, on a tall bay horse, rode an old\nofficer, wearing a white peruke, a three-cornered hat heavily\nlaced with gold, and a yellow sash. His breast was covered with\nribbons, and his thick black plumes danced merrily as he cantered\non.\n\n\"There is my man!\" muttered the hunter, as he slowly brought his\npiece to his shoulder.\n\nA report, a wreath of white smoke, and the old officer had\ndisappeared. In a moment the whole line of intrenchments rattled\nwith musketry; but the Austrians, without replying, pressed\nsteadily upward, their ranks as regular and well aligned as if\nthey were on parade; and to speak truth, many a brave\nmountaineer, mayhap the father of a family, as he saw that forest\nof bayonets come on, thought that perhaps he might better have\nremained at home in his village than have shouldered his rifle\nfor its defence. But as the proverb says, the wine was drawn,\nnaught but to drink remained!\n\nWhen two hundred paces from the abatis, the enemy halted, and\nbegan a rolling fire, such as the mountain echoes had never\nbefore replied to. Bullets hailed on every side, cutting the\nbranches, scattering the icicles, and flattening themselves on\nthe rocks; their continued hiss was like the humming of a swarm\nof bees. All this did not arrest the fire of the mountaineers,\nand soon both sides were buried in thick gray smoke; but at the\nend of ten minutes more, the drums beat out the charge, and again\nthe mass of bayonets dashed toward the _abatis_; and again\nthe cry of \"Forvertz! forvertz!\" rang out, but now nearer and\nnearer, until the firm earth trembled beneath the tramp of\nthousands of feet.\n\nMaterne, rising to his full height, with quivering cheeks and\nflashing eyes, shouted, \"Up! up!\"\n\nIt was time. Many of the Austrians, almost all of them students\nof philosophy, or law, or medicine, gathered from the breweries\nof Munich, Jena, and other towns--men who fought against us\nbecause they believed that Napoleon's fall would alone give them\nfreedom--many of these intrepid fellows had clambered on\nall-fours over the frozen snow and hurled themselves upon the\nworks. But each who climbed the _abatis_ was met by a blow\nfrom a clubbed musket, and flung back among his comrades.\n\nThen did the strength and bravery of old Rochart the wood-cutter\nshow themselves. Man after man of these children of the Vaterland\ndid he stretch upon the whitened earth. Old Materne's bayonet ran\nwith blood. The little tailor, Riffi, loaded and fired into the\nmass with the cool courage of a veteran, and Joseph Larnette,\nHans Baumgarten, whose shoulder was pierced by a ball, Daniel\nSpitz, who lost two fingers by a sabre stroke, and a host of\nothers, will be for ever honored by their countrymen for their\ndeeds that day. For more than a quarter of an hour the fight was\nhand to hand. Nearly all the students had fallen, and the others,\nveterans accustomed to retiring honorably, turned to retrace\ntheir steps.\n{476}\nAt first they retreated slowly; then faster and faster. Their\nofficers urged them to the attack once more, and seconded their\nwords with blows from the flat of their swords, but in vain;\nbullets poured among them from the _abatis_, and soon all\norder was lost; the retreat was a wild rout.\n\nMaterne laughed grimly as he gazed after the flying foe, lately\nadvancing in such proud array, and shook his rifle above his head\nin joy.\n\nAt the bottom of the slope lay hundreds of wounded. The snow was\nred with blood, and in the midst of heaps of slain were two young\nofficers yet living, but crushed beneath the weight of their dead\nhorses.\n\nIt was horrible! But men are oftentimes savage as the beasts of\nthe forests. Not a man among the flushed mountaineers seemed to\nhave a thought for all the misery he saw before him; it even\nseemed to rejoice many.\n\nLittle Riffi, carried away by a sublime ardor for plunder, glided\ndown the steep. He had caught a glimpse of a splendid horse, that\nof the colonel whom Materne had shot, which, protected by a\ncorner of the rock, stood safe and sound.\n\n\"You are mine!\" cried the tailor, as he seized the bridle. \"How\nastonished my wife Sapience will be!\"\n\nAll the others envied him as he mounted his prize; but their envy\nwas soon checked when they saw the noble animal dash at full\nspeed toward the Austrians. The little tailor tugged at the\nbridle, and shouted, and cursed, and prayed, but all to no\npurpose. Materne would have fired, but he feared that in that\nwild gallop he might kill the man, and soon Riffi disappeared\namong the enemy's bayonets.\n\nAll thought he would be massacred at once, but an hour later they\nsaw him pass through the street of Grandfontaine, his hands bound\nbehind his back, and a corporal following with uplifted cane.\n\nPoor Riffi! He did not long enjoy his triumph, and his comrades\nat length laughed at his sad fate as merrily as if he had been a\nKaiserlik. Such is the nature of man; as long as he feels no ill\nhimself, the troubles of others affect him little.\n\n\n Chapter XV.\n\nThe mountaineers were wild with exultation; their triumph knew no\nbounds, and they looked upon each other as so many heroes.\n\nCatherine, Louise, Doctor Larquin, all who had remained at the\nfarm, rushed out to greet the victors. They scanned the marks of\nbullets, gazed at the blood-stained slope; then the Doctor\nordered Baumgarten and Spitz to the hospital, although the latter\ninsisted on still remaining at his post.\n\nLouise distributed brandy among the men, and Catherine Lefevre,\nstanding on the edge of the slope, gazed at the dead and wounded.\nThere lay old and young, their faces white as wax, their eyes\nwide and staring, their arms outstretched. Some had fallen in\nattempting to rise, and the faces of some wore a look of fear as\nif they yet dreaded these terrible blows which the clubbed rifles\nhad dealt. Others had dragged themselves out of the range of\nfire, and their route was marked by tracks of blood.\n\nMany of the wounded seemed resigned to their lot, and only\nseeking a place to die; others gazed wistfully after their\nregiment, which they could discern on its way to Framont--that\nregiment with which they had quitted their native village, with\nwhich they had till then safely braved the toils and dangers of a\nlong campaign, but which now abandoned them to die, far from\nfriends and home, surrounded by an infuriated foe.\n{477}\nAnd they thought how a trembling mother or sister would ask their\ncaptain or their sergeant, \"Did you know Hans, or Kasper, or\nNickel, of the first or second company?\" And how coldly would\ncome the reply: \"Let me see; it is very likely. Had he not brown\nhair and blue eyes? Yes, I knew him; we left him in France near a\nlittle village, the name of which I forget. He was killed by the\nmountaineers the same day as the stout major, Yeri-Peter. A brave\nfellow! Good evening.\"\n\nPerhaps, too, some among them thought of a pretty Gretchen or\nLotchen, who had given them a ribbon, and wept hot tears at their\ndeparture, and sobbed, \"I will wait for you, Kasper. I will marry\nno one but you!\" Thou wilt wait long, poor girl!\n\nAll this was not very pleasant, and Mother Lefevre's thoughts, as\nshe gazed, wandered to Gaspard. Hullin, however, soon came with\nLagarmitte to where she stood, and cried exultantly:\n\n\"Hurrah, boys! you have seen fire, and those Germans yonder will\nnot boast much of this day's work.\"\n\nHe ran to embrace Louise, and then ran back to Catherine.\n\n\"Are you satisfied, Mother Lefevre? Fortune smiles; but what is\nthe matter?\"\n\n\"Yes, Jean-Claude, I am satisfied; all goes well; but look yonder\nupon the road; what a massacre!\"\n\n\"War is war,\" replied Hullin gravely.\n\n\"Is there no way of helping that poor fellow there--the one\nlooking up at us with his large blue eyes? O heaven! they pierce\nmy very heart! Or that tall, brown-haired one binding his arm\nwith his handkerchief?\"\n\n\"Impossible, Catherine! I am sorry; but we should have to cut\nsteps in the ice to descend; and the Austrians, who will be back\nin an hour or two, would make use of them in their next attack.\nBut we must go and announce our victory through the villages, and\nto Labarbe, and Jerome, and Piarette. Holla! Simon, Niklo,\nMarchal! carry the news to our comrades. Materne, see that you\nlook sharp, and report the least movement.\"\n\nThey went together to the farmhouse, and Jean-Claude met the\nreserve as he passed, and Marc-Dives on horseback in the midst of\nhis men. The smuggler complained bitterly of having had no part\nin the fight; he felt disgraced, dishonored.\n\n\"Bah!\" said Hullin, \"so much the better. Watch on our right; if\nwe are attacked there, you will have enough to do.\"\n\nDives said nothing; his good humor could not so easily be\nrestored; nor that of his men--smugglers like himself--who,\nwrapped in their mantles, and with their long rapiers dangling\nfrom their sides, seemed meditating vengeance for what they\ndeemed a slight.\n\nHullin, unable to pacify them, entered the farm-house. Doctor\nLorquin was extracting the ball from the wound of Baumgarten, who\nuttered terrible shrieks.\n\nPelsly, standing at the threshold, trembled in every limb.\nJean-Claude demanded paper and ink to send his orders to the\nposts, and the poor Anabaptist had scarcely strength to go for\nthem. The messengers departed, proud enough to be the bearers of\nthe tidings of the first battle and victory.\n\n{478}\n\nA few mountaineers in the great hall were warming themselves at\nthe stove, and discussing the details of the fight in animated\ntones. Daniel Spitz had his two fingers amputated, and sat behind\nthe stove, his hand wrapped in lint.\n\nThe men who had been posted behind the _abatis_ before\ndaybreak, not having yet breakfasted, were--each with a huge\npiece of bread and a glass of wine--making up for lost time, all\nthe time shouting, gesticulating, and boasting as much as their\nfull mouths would allow them to, and every now and then, when\nsome one would speak of poor Riffi and his misfortunes, they were\nready to burst their sides laughing.\n\nIt was eleven o'clock, when Marc-Dives rushed into the hall,\ncrying:\n\n\"Hullin! Hullin! Where is Hullin?\"\n\n\"Here!\"\n\n\"Follow me--quick!\"\n\nThe smuggler spoke in a strange tone. A few moments before, he\nwas furious at not having taken part in the battle; now he seemed\ntriumphant. Jean-Claude followed, sorely disquieted, and the hall\nwas cleared in a minute, all feeling that Marc's hurry was of\ngrave portent.\n\nTo the right of Donon stretches the ravine of Mini\u00e8res, through\nwhich roars a torrent which rushes from the mountain-side to the\ndepths of the valley.\n\nOpposite the plateau defended by the partisans, and on the other\nside of the ravine, five or six hundred feet distant, rose a sort\nof terrace with very steep sides, which Hullin had not deemed it\nnecessary to occupy, as he was unwilling to divide his forces,\nand saw also that the position could be easily turned under cover\nof the fir forest, if the enemy should occupy it.\n\nImagine the brave old man's dismay when, from the farm-house\ndoor, he saw two companies' of Austrians climbing up the side\nwith two field-pieces, which, dragged up by strong ropes, seemed\nto hang over the precipice. They were pushing at the wheels, too,\nand in a few moments the guns would be on the flat top. He stood\nfor an instant as if struck by lightning, and then turned\nfiercely on Dives.\n\n\"Could you not tell me of this before?\" he cried. \"Was it for\nthis I ordered you to watch the ravine? Our position is turned!\nOur retreat is cut off! You have lost all!\"\n\nAll present, even old Materne, shrank from the flashing eyes bent\nupon the smuggler, and he, notwithstanding his usual cool\naudacity, could not for some moments reply.\n\n\"Be calm, Jean-Claude,\" said he at last; \"it is not so bad as you\nthink. My fellows have yet done nothing, and as we want cannon,\nthose shall be ours.\"\n\n\"Fool! Has your vanity brought us to this? You must needs fight,\nboast--and for this you sacrifice us all! Look! they are coming\nfrom Framont, too!\"\n\nEven as he spoke, the head of a new column, much stronger than\nthe first, appeared, advancing from Framont toward the\n_abatis_ at the double-quick. Dives said not a word. Hullin,\nconquering his rage in the face of danger, shouted:\n\n\"To your posts, all! Attention, Materne!\"\n\nThe old hunter bent his head, listening.\n\nMarc-Dives had recovered all his coolness.\n\n\"Instead of scolding like a woman,\" said he, \"you had better give\nme the order to attack those yonder from the cover of the woods.\"\n\n{479}\n\n\"Do so, in heaven's name,\" cried Hullin. \"Listen, Marc! We were\nvictorious, and your fault has risked all the fruits of our\nvictory. Your life shall answer for our success.\"\n\n\"I accept the terms.\"\n\nThe smuggler, springing upon his horse, threw his cloak proudly\nover his shoulder, and drew his long, straight blade. His men\nfollowed the example. Then, turning to the fifty mountaineers who\ncomposed his troop, Dives pointed with his sword to the enemy,\nand cried:\n\n\"We must have yon height, boys. The men of Dagsberg shall never\nbe called braver than those of the Sarre. Forward!\"\n\nThe troops dashed on, and Hullin, still pale from the effects of\nhis anger, shouted after:\n\n\"Give them the steel!\"\n\nThe tall smuggler, on his huge and strong steed, turned his head,\nand a laugh broke from his lips. He shook his sword expressively,\nand the troops disappeared in the wood.\n\nAt the same moment the Austrians, with their two\nguns--eight-pounders--reached the level top, while the Framont\ncolumn still pressed up the slope. Everything was as before the\nbattle, save that now the mountaineers were between two fires.\n\nThey saw the two guns with their rammers and caissons distinctly.\nA tall, lean officer, with broad shoulders and long, flaxen\nmustaches, commanded. In the clear mountain air they seemed\nalmost within reach, but Hullin and Materne knew better; they\nwere a good six hundred yards away, further than any rifle could\ncarry.\n\nNevertheless, the old hunter wished to return to the\n_abatis_ with a clear conscience. He advanced as near as\npossible to the ravine, followed by his son Kasper and a few\npartisans, and, steadying his piece against a tree, slowly\ncovered the tall officer with the light mustaches.\n\nAll held their breath lest the aim might be disturbed.\n\nThe report rang out, but when Materne placed the butt of his\nrifle again on the ground, to see the effect of his shot, all was\nas before.\n\n\"It is strange how age affects the sight,\" said he.\n\n\"Affects your sight!\" cried Kasper. \"Not a man from the Vosges to\nSwitzerland can place a ball at two hundred yards as true as\nyou.\"\n\nThe old forester knew it well, but he did not wish to discourage\nthe others.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he replied, \"we have no time to dispute about it.\nThe enemy is coming. Let every man do his duty.\"\n\nDespite these words, so calm and simple, Materne too was sorely\ntroubled. As he entered the trench, the air seemed full of sounds\nof dire foreboding, the rattling of arms, the steady tramp of a\ntrained multitude. He looked down the steep and saw the Austrians\npressing on, but this time with long ladders, to the ends of\nwhich great iron hooks were fastened.\n\n\"Kasper,\" he whispered, \"things look ill--ill indeed. Give me\nyour hand. I would like to have you and Frantz near me! Remember\nto do your part like a man.\"\n\nAs he spoke, a heavy shock shook the defences to their\nfoundations, and a hoarse voice cried, \"O my God!\"\n\nThen a fir-tree, a hundred paces off, bent slowly and thundered\ninto the abyss. It was the first cannon-shot, and it had carried\noff both old Rochart's legs. Another and another followed, and\nsoon the air was thick with crushed and flying ice, while the\nshrieking of the balls struck terror to the stoutest hearts. Even\nold Materne trembled for a moment; but his brave heart was soon\nitself again, and he cried:\n\n{480}\n\n\"Vengeance! vengeance! Victory or death!\"\n\nHappily, the terror of the mountaineers was of short duration.\nAll knew that they must conquer or die. Two ladders were already\nfixed, despite the hail of bullets, and the combat was once more\nfoot to foot and hand to hand, fiercer and bloodier than before.\n\nHullin had seen the ladders before Materne, and once more his\nwrath against Dives arose; but he knew that anger then availed\nnaught, and he sent Lagarmitte to order Frantz, who was posted on\nthe other side of Donon, to hasten to the farm with half his men.\nThe brave boy, warned of his father's danger, lost not a moment,\nand already the black slouched hats were seen climbing the\nmountain-side. Jean-Claude, breathless, the sweat pouring from\nhis brow, ran to meet them, crying:\n\n\"Quick, quick! or all is lost!\" He trembled once more with rage,\nattributing all their misfortunes to the smuggler.\n\nBut where was Marc-Dives? In half an hour he had made his way\naround the ravine, and from his steed saw the two companies of\nAustrians drawn up at ordered arms, two hundred paces behind the\nguns, which still kept up their fire upon the intrenchments. He\nturned to the mountaineers, and in a low voice, while the thunder\nof the cannon echoed peal upon peal from the valley, and the\nshouts and shrieks and clatter of the assault rose beyond it,\nsaid:\n\n\"Comrades, you will fall upon the infantry with the bayonet. I\nand my men will do the rest. Forward!\"\n\nThe whole troop advanced in good order to the edge of the wood,\ntall Piercy of Soldatenthal at their head.\n\nThey heard the _Werda_ [Footnote 157] of a sentinel. Two\nshots replied; then the shout of \"_Vive la France_!\" rang to\nheaven, and the brave mountaineers rushed upon the foe like\nfamished wolves upon their prey.\n\n [Footnote 157: \"Who goes there?\"]\n\nDives, erect in his stirrups, looked on and laughed.\n\n\"Well done!\" he said. \"Charge!\" The earth shook beneath the\nshock. Neither Austrians nor partisans fired; for a while nothing\nwas heard but the clash of bayonets or the dull thud of the\nclubbed muskets as they fell; then shrieks and groans and cries\nof rage arose, and from time to time a shot rang out. Friend and\nfoe were mixed and mingled in the savage fray.\n\nThe band of smugglers, sabre in hand, sat all this while gazing\nat the fight, awaiting their leader's signal to engage.\n\nIt came at last.\n\n\"Now is our time,\" cried Marc. \"One brave blow, and the guns are\nours.\"\n\nAnd forth from the cover of the wood, their long mantles floating\nbehind in the wind, every man, in his fiery impatience, bending\nover his saddle-bow, and pointing his long, straight rapier\nstraight forward, broke the bold riders.\n\n\"The point, my lads! the point! never mind the edge!\" shouted\nDives.\n\nIn a moment they were on the pieces. Among Marc's troop were four\nold dragoons who had seen the Spanish wars through, and two\nveteran cuirassiers of the guard, whom love of danger had\nattached to the smuggler. The rammers and short sabres of the\nartillerymen could avail but little against their well-aimed\nthrusts, each one of which brought a man to the earth.\n\n{481}\n\nMarc's cheek was blackened with the powder of a pistol fired\nwithin six inches of his head; a bullet passed through his hat;\nbut his course was not staid until his sword pierced the old\nofficer with the light mustache through and through, at one of\nthe cannons. Then, rising slowly in his saddle until his tall\nform sat erect, he gazed around, and said sententiously:\n\n\"The guns are ours!\"\n\nBut the scene was terrible; the _m\u00eal\u00e9e_ on the high plateau;\nthe shrieks, the neighing of horses, or their cries of agony; the\nshouts of rage; men casting away their arms in a wild flight for\nlife, an inexorable foe pursuing; beyond the ravine, ladders\ncrowded with white uniforms and bristling with bayonets;\nmountaineers defending themselves with the fierce courage of\ndespair; the sides of the slope, the road, and the foot of the\n_abatis_ heaped with dead, or wounded writhing in anguish;\nstill further away, the masses of the enemy advancing, with\nmusket on shoulder, and officers in the midst urging them on; old\nMaterne, on the crest of the steep, swinging his clubbed rifle\nwith deadly effect, and shouting for his son Frantz, who was\nrushing at full speed with his command to the fight; Jean-Claude\ndirecting the defence; the deafening musketry, now in volleys,\nnow rattling like some terrible hailstorm; and, rolling above\nall, the vague, weird echoes of mountain and valley. All this was\npressed into that one moment.\n\nMarc-Dives was not of a contemplative or poetic turn of mind,\nhowever, and wasted no time in useless reflections upon the\nhorrors of war. A glance showed him the position of affairs, and,\nspringing from his horse, he seized one of the levers of the\nguns, and in a moment had aimed the yet loaded piece at the foot\nof the ladders. Then he seized a match and fired.\n\nStrange cries arose from afar off, and the smuggler, gazing\nthrough the smoke, saw a bloody lane in the enemy's ranks. He\nshook both his hands above his head exultingly, and a shout of\ntriumph arose from the breastworks.\n\n\"Dismount!\" he cried to his men. \"Now is our time for action!\nBring cartridges and balls from your caissons. Load! We will\nsweep the road! Ready! Fire!\"\n\nThe smugglers applied themselves to the work, and shot after shot\ntore through the white masses. The fire enfiladed the ranks, and\nthe tenth discharge was at a flying foe.\n\n\"Fire! fire!\" shouted Marc. And the partisans, re-enforced by\nFrantz, regained the position they had for a moment lost.\n\nAnd now the mountain-side was covered only with dead, wounded,\nand flying. It was four o'clock in the evening, and night was\nfalling fast. The last cannon-shot fell in the street of\nGrandfontaine, and, rebounding, overturned the chimney of the\n\"Red Ox.\"\n\nSix hundred men had perished. Many of the mountaineers had\nfallen, but many more of the Kaiserliks. Dives's cannonade had\nsaved all; for the partisans were not even one against ten, and\nthe enemy had almost made himself master of their works.\n\n\n Chapter XVI.\n\nThe Austrians, crowded in Grandfontaine, fled toward Framont, on\nfoot and on horseback, flinging their knapsacks away, and looking\nbehind as if they feared the mountaineers were in hot pursuit.\n\n{482}\n\nIn Grandfontaine, in a sort of spirit of revenge, they broke\nwhatever they could lay hands on, tore out windows, crushed in\ndoors, demanded food and drink, and insulted the people by way of\npayment. Their imprecations and cries, the commands of their\nofficers, the complaints of the inhabitants, the heavy tramp of\nfeet across the bridge of Framont, and the agonized neigh of\nwounded horses, all rose in a confused murmur to the\n_abatis_.\n\nOn the side of the mountain, arms, shakos, knapsacks, dead--all\nthe signs of a rout--were alone seen. Opposite appeared\nMarc-Dives's guns, ready to open fire anew in case of a new\nattack.\n\nThe partisans had gained the day; but no shout of triumph rose\nfrom their intrenchments. Their losses had been too cruel.\nSilence had succeeded the tumult of battle--silence, deep and\nsolemn--and those who had escaped the carnage gazed earnestly at\ntheir fellows, as if wondering to see them yet alive. A few\ncalled aloud for friends, some for brothers, who replied not.\nThen search began throughout the length of the works for Jacob,\nor Philippe, or Antoine.\n\nAnd the gray shades of night were falling fast over mountain and\nvalley, and lending a strange mystery to the horrid picture; and\nmen came and went without knowing one another.\n\nMaterne wiped his bloody bayonet, and called his boys in hoarse\ntones:\n\n\"Kasper! Frantz!\"\n\nAnd seeing them approach in the half-darkness, he asked:\n\n\"Are you hurt?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nThe voice of the old hunter, harsh as it was, trembled.\n\n\"We are all three again together; God's mercy be thanked!\" he\nmurmured.\n\nAnd he, who was never known to weep, embraced his boys, while the\ntears rained down his cheeks, and they, no less moved, sobbed\nlike little children.\n\nBut the old man soon recovered himself and cried with a forced\ngayety:\n\n\"We have had a rough day, lads; let us take a cup of wine--I am\nthirsty.\"\n\nThrowing a last glance at the bloody slope, and seeing that the\nsentries whom Hullin had stationed at intervals of thirty paces\nwere all at their posts, the old man led the way to the\nfarm-house.\n\nThey were passing carefully through the corpse-piled trench, when\na feeble voice exclaimed:\n\n\"Is that you, Materne?\"\n\n\"Ah poor Rochart! Pardon! forgive me if I hurt you,\" said the old\nhunter, bending over the wounded man; \"how comes it that you are\nstill here?\"\n\n\"Because I cannot move hence; inasmuch as I have no legs,\"\nanswered the other with a mournful sort of merriment.\n\nThe three hunters stood silent for a moment, when the old\nwood-cutter continued:\n\n\"Tell my wife, Materne, that behind the cupboard, in a stocking,\nshe will find six crowns. I saved them in case either of us\nshould fall sick; but I have no further need--\"\n\n\"Perhaps--perhaps--you may live yet, old friend,\" interrupted\nMaterne. \"We will carry you from here, at all events.\"\n\n\"It is not worth while,\" returned the wounded man. \"An hour more,\nand you can carry me to my grave.\"\n\nMaterne, without replying, signed to Frantz to help him, and\ntogether they raised the old wood-cutter from the ground, despite\nhis wish to be left alone. Thus they arrived at the farm-house.\n\n{483}\n\nAll the wounded who had strength enough to drag themselves to the\nhospital were there. Doctor Lorquin and a fellow-surgeon, named\nDespois, who had come during the day to his assistance, had work\nenough on hand; and as Materne and his sons with their piteous\nload traversed the dimly-lighted hall, they heard cries which\nfroze the blood in their veins, and the dying wood-cutter almost\nshrieked:\n\n\"Why do you bring me here! Let me die in peace. They shall not\ntouch me!\"\n\n\"Open the door Frantz,\" said Materne, his forehead covered with a\ncold sweat, \"open quick!\"\n\nAnd as Frantz pushed open the door, they saw, on a large\nkitchen-table in the middle of the low room, with its heavy brown\nrafters, Colard, the younger, stretched at full length, six\ncandles around him, a man holding each arm, and a bucket beneath.\nDoctor Lorquin, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a\nshort wide saw in his hand, was about cutting off the poor\nfellow's leg, while Desbois stood by with a sponge. Blood dripped\ninto the bucket, and Colard was pale as death. Catherine Lefevre\nwas near, with a roll of lint, and seemed firm; but the furrows\nin her cheeks were deeper than usual, and her teeth were tightly\nset. She gazed on the ground so as not to see the misery around.\n\n\"It is over!\" said the doctor at length, turning round.\n\nAnd casting a glance at the new-comers he added:\n\n\"Ah! you here, Father Rochart?\"\n\n\"Yes; but you must not touch me. I am done for; let me die in\npeace.\"\n\nThe doctor took up a candle, looked for a moment at the old man's\nwounds, and said with a grimace:\n\n\"It was time, my poor Rochart; you have lost a great deal of\nblood, and if we wait any longer, it will be too late.\"\n\n\"Do not touch me!\" shrieked the old man. \"I have suffered\nenough!\"\n\n\"As you wish. We will pass to another.\"\n\nHe looked at the long line of mattresses. The two last were\nempty, although deluged with blood. Materne and Kasper placed\ntheir charge upon the last, while Despois went to another of the\nwounded men, saying:\n\n\"It is your turn, Nicholas.\"\n\nThen they saw tall Nicholas Cerf lift a pale face and eyes\nglittering with fear.\n\n\"Give him a glass of brandy,\" said the doctor.\n\n\"No, I would rather smoke my pipe.\"\n\n\"Where is your pipe?\"\n\n\"In my vest.\"\n\n\"Good; and your tobacco?\"\n\n\"In my pantaloons pocket.\"\n\n\"Fill his pipe, Despois. This man is a brave fellow--I like to\nsee such. We will take off your arm in two times and three\nmotions.\"\n\n\"Is there no way of preserving it, Monsieur Lorquin--for my poor\nchildren's sake? It is their only support.\"\n\n\"No, the bone is fractured and will not reunite. Light his pipe,\nDespois. Now, Nicholas, my man, smoke, smoke.\"\n\nThe poor fellow seemed after all to have little wish to do so.\n\n\"Are you ready?\" asked the doctor.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered the sufferer in a choking voice.\n\n\"Good! Attention, Despois; sponge!\"\n\nThen with a long knife he cut rapidly around the arm. Nicholas\nground his teeth. The blood spirted; Despois tied something. The\nsaw ground for two seconds, and the arm fell heavily on the\nfloor.\n\n{484}\n\n\"That is what I call a well-performed operation,\" observed\nLorquin.\n\nNicholas was no longer smoking; the pipe had fallen from his\nlips. They bound round what remained of his arm with lint, and\nreplaced him on his mattress.\n\n\"Another finished! Sponge the table well, Despois, and then for\nthe next,\" said the doctor, washing his hands in a large basin.\n\nEach time he said, \"Now for the next,\" the wounded men groaned\nwith fear. The shrieks they heard and the glittering knives they\nsaw were enough to strike a chill to their hearts; but what could\nbe done? All the rooms of the farm-house and of the barn were\ncrowded. Only the large hall remained clear, and so the Doctor\ncould not help operating under the eyes of those who must a\nlittle later take their turn.\n\nMaterne could see no more. Even the dog, Pluto, who stood behind\nthe doctor, seemed to tremble at the horrible sight. The old\nhunter hastened to breathe the cold air without, and cried:\n\n\"And to think, my boys, that this might have happened to us!\"\n\n\"God is good,\" said Frantz, \"and why should we let sights even\nlike these affright us from our duty? We are in his hands.\"\n\nA murmur of voices arose to their right.\n\n\"It is Marc-Dives and Hullin,\" said Kasper, listening.\n\n\"Yes, they have just come from the breastwork they made behind\nthe fir-wood for the cannon,\" added Frantz.\n\nThey listened again. Footsteps approached.\n\n\"You are embarrassed with your three prisoners,\" said Hullin, in\nshort tones. \"You return to Falkenstein to-night; why can you not\ntake them with you?\"\n\n\"But where shall I put them?\"\n\n\"_Parbleu!_ In the prison of Abreschwiller; we cannot keep\nthem here.\"\n\n\"I understand, Jean-Claude. And if they attempt to escape on the\nway, I will plant my rapier between their shoulders.\"\n\n\"You must!\"\n\nThey reached the door, and Hullin, seeing Materne, cried\njoyously:\n\n\"You here, old friend? I have been seeking you for an hour. Where\nwere you?\"\n\n\"We were carrying old Rochart to the hospital.\"\n\nJean-Claude dropped his head sadly; but his joy at the result of\nthe day's battle soon gained the upper hand, and he said:\n\n\"Yes, it is mournful, indeed. But such is the fortune of war. Are\nyou or your sons hurt?\"\n\n\"Not a scratch.\"\n\n\"Thank Heaven! Materne, those who passed through this day's work\nmay well rejoice.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried Marc-Dives, laughing, \"I saw old Materne ready to\nbeat a retreat; without those little cannon-shots, things would\nhave had a different ending.\"\n\nMaterne reddened and glanced angrily at the smuggler.\n\n\"It is very possible,\" he answered; \"but without the cannon-shots\nat the beginning, we should not have needed those at the end, and\nold Rochart and fifty brave fellows would yet have legs and\narms--a thing which would not have hurt our victory.\"\n\n\"Bah!\" interrupted Hullin, who saw a dispute likely to arise.\n\"Quit this discussion. Every man has done his duty.\"\n\nThen addressing Materne, he added:\n\n{485}\n\n\"I have sent a flag of truce to Framont, to tell the enemy to\nremove their wounded. They will arrive in about an hour,\ndoubtless, and you must order our outposts to let them advance;\nbut without arms, and with torches. If they come otherwise, fire\non them.\"\n\n\"I will go at once,\" replied the old hunter.\n\n\"Return with your sons, and have supper with us at the\nfarm-house, when you have carried out your orders.\"\n\n\"Very well, Jean-Claude.\"\n\nHullin ordered Frantz and Kasper to have large bivouac-fires\nlighted for the night, and Marc to have his horses fed and to go\nat once for more ammunition, and, seeing them depart on their\nway, he entered the farm-house.\n\n ----------\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n The Unity Of Scientific And Revealed Truth. [Footnote 158]\n\n [Footnote 158: A discourse pronounced by the Archbishop of\n Malines on his first pastoral visit to the city and\n university of Louvain.]\n\nI have not been able to come among you as soon as I desired. The\nduties of my office, and especially the difficulties which always\nsurround one's initiation to a new sphere of duties, are the\ncauses of this delay. Had I the leisure, my first visit after my\nentrance into this vast diocese would have been to Louvain--to\nLouvain, so celebrated for its glorious traditions--to Louvain,\nwhich has ever remained true to them. To the attraction of great\nhistorical remembrances are joined in my case ties of a more\nintimate nature. This pulpit recalls to my mind the days of a\nministry which must always be dear to my heart, and which was far\nless onerous than that which has replaced it; for if in those\ndays I spoke of the cross, it was surely without carrying the one\nwhich now weighs upon my shoulders. Yet it is with joy that I\naddress for the first time, as pastor of their souls, the\nchildren of this city, twice blessed by the Church for the signal\nservices she has rendered to the Christian world, both by her\nancient university, and by the one which lives again in our time\nwith so much lustre.\n\nLouvain bears a great title, because she symbolizes a great\nthing--_the unity of science and faith_. How, then, my\nbrethren, can I avoid speaking of her, and of that unity which\nmen now strive to banish from the schools of learning? Everywhere\nit seems as if some invincible power had given the command to\nexpel Christianity from our schools in the name of science. I\ngladly seize, therefore, the first opportunity which has been\noffered me to consider this question, because it deeply interests\nthe living minds of the age, because it is one of the great cares\nof our social life, and because here the two interests are united\nin one place: the interests of science, because I speak of\nLouvain; the interests, of religion, because I speak from this\nsacred pulpit.\n\n{486}\n\nNot always in their efforts against the unity of science and\nreligion do we find our opponents frankly declaring war upon\nChristianity. No; its enemies prefer to extinguish it by\nstratagem. They wisely fear the love of parents for their\noffspring; and while they are eager to destroy the faith of the\none, they hope to accomplish their task without the knowledge of\nthe other. It is on this account that they have sought and found\nthe proper word to conceal their design, and this word is\n_neutrality in teaching_. I wish, then, to show you two\nthings:\n\n_First_. That neutrality in teaching, as far as it regards\nthe Christian religion, is evidently impossible; that a teacher\nmust unavoidably declare himself for or against the Christian\nfaith, even as Christ himself said, \"He that is not for me is\nagainst me.\"\n\n_Second_. Science cannot declare itself against the\nChristian faith without denying itself, without being unfaithful\nto its own principle, which is reason, and without renouncing the\nvery conditions of a free, perfect, and progressive science.\n\nMay the Mother of Science and Faith, _Mater Agnitionis_,\nobtain for us from the incarnated Wisdom the light which we need!\n\n\n I.\n\nWhen I speak of instruction, I do not intend to designate certain\nbranches of study in particular, but I refer to the whole course\nof teaching in each of its three degrees. I affirm, then, that\nneutrality in teaching is an evident impossibility, so far as it\nregards Christianity in each of these three degrees, and more\nespecially in the highest grade of instruction. This could be\ndemonstrated by running over a great number of the various\nbranches of study; but in order to be more concise, though not\nless conclusive, I will speak of only two among them, history and\nmorals, upon which no school can be silent. They will suffice to\nconvince you that the school which is not Christian is\nnecessarily antichristian, and that it will ever be impossible to\nbe neutral.\n\nLet us begin with history. If the Christian religion were a\nmythology, certainly we could separate it from the teaching of\nhistory, and banish it to the domain of fable; but Christianity\nbefore as well as after the Incarnation is a great historical\nfact; nay, it is the greatest fact of history. This fact is a\nliving one in that religious society which embraces every nation.\nThis living fact speaks and affirms itself divine; not divine in\nman who accepts it, but divine in that which constitutes its\nessence, in its doctrine, in its worship, and in its doctrinal\nand sanctifying power.\n\nChristian teaching affirms that Christianity is a _divine_\nfact. Anti-Christian instruction denies it. What, then, can\nneutral instruction be? If it neither affirm nor deny,\nnecessarily it doubts, and consequently it must teach doubt. But\nis not the teaching of doubt formally antichristian? The divine\nAuthor of Christianity teaches us that, in the presence of the\nproofs of his mission, doubt is inexcusable: \"_If I had not\ncome and spoken to them, they would not have sin: but now they\nhave no excuse for their sin_.\" (John xv. 22.)\n\nWe will see, in a few moments, why this doubt is inexcusable; but\nwe only affirm a self-evident truth when we declare neutrality to\nbe impossible, because he who is not for the faith is necessarily\nagainst it, and to teach doubt is only another way to deny truth.\nBut perhaps it will be said that neutral instruction will say\nnothing concerning this matter; that it will pass by the fact of\nthe Christian religion in silence; and that, without relegating\nit to the domain of mythology, it will quietly ignore its\nexistence.\n{487}\nNow, the absurdity of this position is still more manifest, for\nChristianity is linked to everything in this world. We cannot\ntake a step in history without meeting with it; if you search the\nannals of antiquity, of the first centuries of the Christian era,\nof the middle ages, or of modern times, at every age alike you\nwill see Christianity before you, and everywhere it governs all\nother things from its lofty height.\n\nThe pretence of silence in this matter is therefore one of two\nthings: it is either nonsense or it is hypocrisy. It is nonsense\nwhen it is said, as I have recently been informed it is in a\ncertain classic work adopted by our schools, that it will contain\nno question about sacred history, nor about the history of the\nchurch, whether of the old or the new alliance, because these\nquestions are all beyond the scope of history. The chain of facts\nwhich a Bossuet has unrolled in his discourse upon universal\nhistory--that marvellous chain of facts beyond the scope of\nhistory! The expectation of redemption among all the people of\nthe globe, which is proved by the universality of expiatory\nsacrifices, and by foreshadowings which redemption can alone make\nintelligible; the establishment of Christianity in its last and\ndefinite form, its civilizing influence, its trials, its\nlong-continued struggles, its triumphant existence--these are\nall beyond the scope of history! This pretended silence, then, is\nnot nonsense, it is hypocrisy; it is only, like the neutrality\nwhich it defends, the hollow mask of infidelity.\n\nAgain, neutrality is not less impossible in the sphere of morals\nthan in history. What is morality? It is the science of duty. By\nitself, it is the science of means furnished by reason to\novercome our passions. Therefore to morals belong these absorbing\nquestions: Why have the passions revolted against reason? Why\ndoes not the same beautiful harmony reign in the moral as in the\nphysical order? Why are there, as it were, two men within us, and\nwhy do we know what we ought to do, and why do we follow the\nopposite? What is the cause of this deep-seated evil, which is\nonly too well known to us all? What is the remedy for it? Where\nshall we find the strength to conquer this interior revolt? Where\nare the arms with which we can triumph?\n\nHe who knows not this knows nothing. But faith has positive\nanswers for these fundamental questions. It teaches us that the\nrevolt of passions in human nature is the first result of the\nrevolt of the human mind against God; that the soul, which did\nnot wish to submit to its Creator and its Master, has rightly\nsuffered the uprising of its own slaves, the senses and the\nappetites; that, if it would vanquish them, it must humiliate its\npride, lament its evil deeds, implore the grace of God, pray to\nobtain again its lost strength. It teaches us that by prayer we\nseize familiarly the divine armor, \"_armaturam Dei orantes_\"\nand that only by its aid can we hope to combat and to triumph.\nThis is Christian teaching. And will not that teaching be\nantichristian which denies what Christianity, in this respect,\ndeclares to be true? Certainly it must, because in the teaching\nof morals, to be silent concerning the necessity of grace and of\nprayer, by which man freely obtains grace, is to make an avowed\nprofession of antichristianity. To say nothing of the grace which\nstrengthens our nature; to say nothing of grace, which not only\nstrengthens, but elevates nature above itself; to say nothing of\nthe life of grace, as if, when compared with the physical and\nintellectual life, there was not a far more noble life, which all\nmen have experienced, since no one is completely abandoned by its\nmerciful inspirations--this is not a neutral course; it is\nantichristian, formally antichristian.\n\n{488}\n\nI might prove to you here that instruction upon morals is not\nonly antichristian when it is silent concerning the means given\nus by faith to conquer these passions, but also when it refuses\nto recognize the great motives for fulfilling our duties, for\nthese motives are so many Christian truths. I might show, or\nrather recall the fact, that these truths have transformed\nprivate and public morality, that they have begotten modern\ncivilization; and those are indeed blind and ungrateful who enjoy\nthe fruit of this civilization, while they would miserably tear\nthe fair tree from the hearts of their Christian countrymen.\n\nBut I must be satisfied with placing these arguments before you;\nand I am the more readily contented with this sketch, because I\nknow that it is not requisite to say everything, in order to be\nunderstood. I am convinced that I have said enough to make it\nclear, both to your reason and to your conscience, that\ninstruction must be Christian, or it will become antichristian;\nthat science is necessarily either for or against the holy faith;\nand that its pretended neutrality is only an unmeaning word.\nHence it follows that the organization of public instruction on\nthe basis of a deceitful neutrality is in reality the affirmation\nof antichristianity in the state. [Footnote 159]\n\n [Footnote 159: In Belgium, there is a society which bears the\n title of _The League of Instruction_. This society is\n free to organize antichristianity in its schools, but always\n defraying its own expenses, and at its own risk and peril.\n This society has become dissatisfied, because its members\n know that they cannot gain the confidence of the people;\n hence they have sought to remove the obstacles by imploring\n the protection of the state.]\n\n\n II.\n\nIt remains for us to see that, when science declares against the\nChristian faith, it really denies its own principle, that is to\nsay, reason. And why? Because it is reason which invokes the\nlight of faith, and it is reason which recognizes it. It is\nreason which invokes the light of faith. For what is reason?\nReason is that one of our powers which reaches after truth; it is\nthat faculty which is ever forcing us to search out the\n\"_why_\" of things. It has even the same name as its object,\nfor the reason and the \"_why_\" of anything are one. Again,\nwe only act reasonably when we know _why_ we are acting.\nEven in our most insignificant actions, we always propose to\nourselves an intention, an end which determines them. In order,\ntherefore, to live reasonably, we must know _why_. It is\nnecessary to know the _why_, or the _end_, of life, so\nthat the first words of our catechism answer the first question\nof reason. Why are you in the world? Is it only to go to the\ncemetery? Has man been placed upon the earth only that he may be\nthrown into a grave? Humanity will never accept this doctrine.\nThe generations of the human race kneel at the tombs of their\nancestors and protest against this monstrosity--the miserable and\nabsurd system of those who clamorously desire a liberty of the\nhuman mind, which can only terminate in corruption and worms. The\nhuman conscience and human reason unite in declaring that life is\nonly a journey, that its end is beyond the tomb, and that to die\nis to attain it. But what do we attain? Where do we arrive?\n{489}\nHere reason searches, and trembles while she seeks. She looks,\nand feels that she is powerless to penetrate single-handed into\nthe abyss of the future life. The learned and the ignorant are\nequally baffled, and can only say, \"It is necessary to return to\nthe other world, in order to know what really is done there.\" The\ngospel tells us the same; no one has penetrated the heavens\nexcept he who came from them: \"No one has ascended into heaven,\nexcept he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man who is in\nheaven.\"\n\nLet us try then, brethren, to discover what reason asks, and\njustly asks. It asks the \"_why_\" of life; it does not care\nto exist without knowing \"_why_\" and knowing it with\ncertainty. It can obtain certitude in many other spheres of\nthought; but it wishes to be assured upon this far more than upon\nany other question. Let us, then, state how reason has certitude\nin some other matters, and how it wishes and can attain it in\nthis.\n\nWe know the things of the exterior world with certainty, and\nreason tells as to admit that which is well attested by the\nsenses. We know the things of the interior world, of that world\nwhich is within our own breasts, because reason tells us to admit\nwhat is revealed by our self-consciousness. We know the great\nmass of truths of the intellectual world with certainty, for our\nreason tells us that we must acknowledge the truths proclaimed by\nevidence. We know that which is passing upon the earth in the\npresent day. We know events which occur in distant quarters of\nthe world, and we know the facts which are separated from us by\nlong intervals of time, because our reason tells us that history\nand the testimony of mankind are reliable grounds of certitude.\n\nBut that which we wish to know more than all these things is the\nend of our own existence; and we wish to know this precisely,\nbecause we are reasonable beings. Our reason longs to know more\nof the meaning of our creation; it desires to know what is true\nin regard to our end, because this truth must be divine and\neternal. But to be certain of divine truth, must not reason be\nwilling to obey the voice of God? To be certain of eternal truth,\nmust we not accept the testimony of eternity? The testimony of\nGod was implored in every age, and from this it comes that faith,\nwhich is the acceptance by human reason of God's revelation, is a\nconstant, perpetual, universal fact, even as the fact of reason\nitself. It is ridiculous to urge against the truth of revelation\nthe various religions which claim to be revealed; for the\ncounterfeits of revelation do not prove more against it than the\nperversion of reason proves against reason. The wanderings of\nreason do not compel us to deny the truth of human reason, so\nneither do the misrepresentations and counterfeits of revelation\nforce us to deny its truth. We have seen, therefore, what reason\nrequires; let us see how it recognizes revelation when it meets\nwith it.\n\nThere is a certain manner of speaking indifferently of all\nreligions which is used as a cloak to hide the desire to confound\nthem. This is common in the world of letters among men of scanty\nscience. But serious science, like a sincere conscience,\ndiscovers divine revelation, in spite of its human alterations,\nby certain signs and characteristic marks which are unmistakable.\nThese signs have been multiplied by Providence with love; but I\nwish to insist here upon that token which has not only followed\npast ages in their course, but has, if I may so speak, grown with\ntheir growth: that grand characteristic which reveals the author\nof nature, and which assures us of the giver of revelation, is\nunity.\n{490}\nThe unity of nature reveals God as the creator, the harmony of\nthe heavens and of the earth recount the glory of their author:\n\"The heavens explain the glory of God.\" It is the chant of the\nunity of space. But the unity of time is not less splendid than\nthe unity of worlds; it is the harmony of centuries in Jesus\nChrist, who has revealed God as the author of revelation. Nature\nand revelation are, then, the two great works in which God is\nrevealed by the same sign--queenly and all-powerful unity! The\nunity of time in Jesus Christ, and in him alone, is a fact\nwithout a parallel; more easy for us to rejoice in than to\ndepict. Yet here is the master-stroke of a great pencil: \"These\nare great facts, clearer than the light of the sun itself, which\nmake us know that our religion is as old as the world, and\ndemonstrate that he only could be its author who, holding all\nthings in his hand, has been able to begin and continue that\nwhich holds all centuries in its embrace. To be expected, to\ncome, to be adored by a posterity which will last through every\nage, is the character of him whom we adore, Jesus Christ,\nyesterday, to-day, and to endless ages, the same.\" This, then, is\nthe manifest sign of divine revelation, the unity of time in\nJesus Christ.\n\nSt. Augustine spoke of this sign, considering it, however, under\nonly one of its aspects, when he answered those persons who\nenvied the good fortune of those who conversed with the risen\nChrist: \"The apostles saw one thing, but they believed another;\nand because they saw, they believed that which they did not see.\nThey saw Jesus Christ risen, the head of the Church, but they did\nnot yet see this body, this Universal Church, which Jesus Christ\nannounced to them,\" this marvellous and almost incredible\nCatholicity, extending over every country, with its unbloody\nsacrifice of the great invisible Victim, with the manifestation\nof conscience and remission of sins, with its perpetuity to the\nend of time, with its centre of unity established by these words:\n\"Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and\nthe gates of hell shall not prevail against it.\" The apostles saw\nnone of these things, and how could they believe in such\napparently incredible promises? But they were in the presence of\nthe risen Christ; they had seen him dead and crucified, they saw\nhim living and glorious, and it is from his mouth that they\nreceived the promise of that which they did not see. \"They have\nseen the head,\" says St. Augustine, \"and they have believed in\nthe body; we see the body, and we believe in the head. We are\nlike them, because we see, and therefore we believe that which we\ndo not see.\"\n\nIt is necessary for us to recall here what St. Thomas Aquinas\nsays upon this point: \"No one believes, unless he sees what is\nnecessary to be believed.\" It is because we are reasonable that\nwe are believers. It is also because we are believers, we are\nChristians; and it is as Christians and children of Catholicity\nthat we love with the same affection faith and science, the\nplenitude of science, the liberty and progress of science. The\nplenitude of science, for, without its harmony with the sphere of\nfaith and the truths which surround our faith, science must\nalways be incomplete.\n\n{491}\n\nThere is a science to-day which calls itself \"_positive_\"\nmeaning that it is founded on well-attested facts. It is indeed\ngood to rely upon facts. Facts should undoubtedly be the basis of\nnatural science. Still the natural sciences are not the only ones\nwhich should be sustained by facts. The moral order, as well as\nthe physical, appears to be a magnificent assemblage of facts.\nHumanity with its reason, its conscience, its sublime\ninclinations, its immortal yearnings--is not humanity a grand\nfact? Then this great fact must be considered as it really\nexists, in its entirety, and not as mutilated by the false spirit\nof a system. If the order of facts to which positivism would\nlimit us were the only order, do you know what humanity would be?\nAn ant which disputes with the grains of sand. But humanity will\nnever allow itself to be thus dishonored.\n\nTo the moral fact of humanity corresponds that which we have seen\ntriumph over centuries--the fact of revelation. I say it\ncorresponds to them, because Christian revelation offers the only\nsatisfactory reply to questions which philosophers have always\nasked and never answered. I say it corresponds, because Christian\nrevelation has alone thrown a flood of light upon the mysteries\nof the _positive_ state of humanity, and it alone affirms\nthat it bears a sovereign remedy for the moral disorder of our\nnature: \"Come to me, and I will refresh you.\" Do we really\npossess science, then, if, in the presence of these two great\nfacts and of this divine appeal to experience, we obstinately\nclose our eyes and shut our ears? Have we science when, without\ninvestigation, we assert as the first condition the gratuitous\ndenial of the possibility of the things that were to be examined?\nWhat is really this pretended scientific position? It is the\nattitude of fear. If science would be perfect, it must\ninvestigate every order of facts, investigate their character,\ndeclare their harmony. It is when it states the harmony of the\nfacts of the natural order with the facts (I say _facts_) of\nthe supernatural order, the harmony of the actual condition of\nthe human race with the revelation which enlightens its depths,\nthen it is that science becomes perfect, or at least always tends\nmore and more toward perfection. The very names which represent\nthis harmony are, as you are well aware, the greatest names of\nscience.\n\nBut will science be free, some one asks, if it is bound by\nrevelation? Does it cease to be free because it is bound by\nnature? That which troubles certain minds on this point is due to\na false and pitiable notion of liberty. In what respect is\nliberty everywhere distinguished from license? In this, that\nliberty always moves within the sphere of law, and license always\nbeyond it. In the order of science, the law is the truth\nestablished. The liberty of science is not, then, absolute in its\nindependence, as has been recently declared by an academician.\nNo; liberty is not the independence of science, for it consists\nprecisely in the fact of its dependence upon truth. The servitude\nof science, on the contrary, consists in its dependence upon\nopinion. Indeed, it is not the freedom of the human mind, but\nlicense, mother of servitude, which pretends to-day to reduce\neverything to opinion. This pretence is the negation of science.\nTo possess science is to know with certainty; to have only\nopinions is to doubt; and to submit to doubt is slavery. The true\nman of learning never asserts when he is ignorant; but science\ndoes not require less certainty, and only becomes science when\nshe can attain it. Science is therefore _science_ only\nbecause the truth controls it, and by controlling it, preserves\nit from the servitude of opinion, so that this shining sentence\nof our Lord concerns also the learned: \"The truth shall make you\nfree.\"\n\n{492}\n\n\"But does not experience show that in bearing the yoke of truth\nwe are sure to yield to illusions?\" I answer, is it not proven\nthat those who resist the evidence of a divine order, whether in\nthe work of revelation or in the work of nature, bend beneath\nevery breath that passes, turning to every wind of doctrine,\nyield to every caprice of intellect, and frame their convictions\naccording to the phrases which are daily set forth by the press\nof both hemispheres? Have you never met with one of these slaves?\nThey are ready to believe anything that is affirmed without\nevidence, provided it is contrary to the faith, and they are\nwilling to accept any theory as a demonstrated fact, so long as\nit can be used against Christianity. What is this but the\ncredulity of incredulity?\n\nThe notion of progress is not less false among them than that of\nliberty. Do they not say every day that faith is incompatible\nwith progress, because revelation is immutable? Is not nature\nalso immutable? Is the immutability of nature an obstacle to the\nprogress of natural science? Why, then, is the immutability of\nrevelation, which we have seen clothed with the same divine sign\nas nature--why, then, is this immutability an obstacle to the\nprogress of the moral sciences? Is it not concerning the progress\nof these sacred sciences that Pius IX. has recently adopted the\nwords of Vincent of Lerins, and made them his own? \"Progress\nexists, and it is very great; but it is the true progress of\nfaith, which is not constant change. It must be that the\nintelligence, the science, the wisdom of all ages, as well as of\neach one in particular, of all ages and centuries of the whole\nchurch, should, like individuals, increase and make great, very\ngreat progress; so that posterity may have the good fortune to\nunderstand that which antiquity venerated without comprehending;\nso that the precious stones of divine dogma may be cut, exactly\nadapted, wisely ornamented, that they may enrich us with their\ngrace, their splendor, and their beauty, but always of the same\nkind, that is to say, the same doctrine, in the same sense and\nwith the same substance, so that, when we use new terms, we do\nnot say new things.\" You understand then, my brethren, that the\nimmutability of revelation does not offer a greater obstacle to\nthe progress of sacred science than the immutability of nature\nplaces in the way of the natural sciences.\n\nThe popes were not only the friends of the progress of the sacred\nsciences; they were the most ardent supporters of all science, as\nwell as of the progress of letters and arts. The facts which\nprove this are so numerous that I shall content myself with\nrecalling those which concern you more directly. Who founded the\nuniversities of Oxford and Cambridge in England? The popes. Who\nfounded the universities of Paris, Bologna, Ferrara, Salamanca,\nCoimbra, Alcala, Heidelberg, Prague, Cologne, Vienna, Louvain,\nand Copenhagen? Again the popes. Who instituted the\nprofessorships of the Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, and Chaldaic\nLanguages at Paris, Oxford, Bologna, and Salamanca? A\npope--Clement V. By whom, during two centuries, were sustained,\nencouraged, recompensed, the works of savants which finally led\nto the knowledge of the system of the world? By the popes and the\ncardinals of the holy Roman Church. This is what those ignore who\ndo not blush to perpetuate the fabulous condemnation of Galileo\nby the Church.\n{493}\nNeither the Church nor the sovereign pontiffs have ever condemned\nGalileo. Galileo was condemned by a tribunal of theologians, who\nsoon withdrew this condemnation to give astronomy the same\nliberty which was granted to Galileo himself, whose sombre prison\nis only a romance. Where was this system of the movement of the\nearth adopted by Copernicus, and then first taught by Galileo? At\nRome, in 1495, by Nicholas de Cusa, professor in the Roman\nUniversity, forty-eight years before the birth of Copernicus, and\none hundred and thirty-nine before that of Galileo. Nicholas de\nCusa defended at that time this system in a work, dedicated to\nhis professor, Cardinal Julian Cesarini. Pope Nicholas V. raised\nNicholas de Cusa to the cardinalate, and named him Bishop of\nBrixen, in Tyrol. Again, it was at Rome, toward the year 1500,\nthat Copernicus explained and defended this system before an\naudience of two thousand scholars. Copernicus was made Canon of\nK\u00f6nigsberg. Celius Calcagnini, who taught the system of Cusa and\nCopernicus, in Italy, about 1518, was appointed apostolic\nprothonotary by Clement VIII., and confirmed in this position of\nhonor by Paul III.; it was to Paul III. that Copernicus dedicated\nhis work _De Revolutionibus Orbium Caelestium._ At last,\nwhen the renowned Kepler, who developed and completed the system\nof Copernicus, was on this account persecuted by the Protestant\ntheologians of T\u00fcbingen, the Holy See used its utmost endeavors\nto place in the University of Bologna this savant, so Christian\nin his ideas, and who had not merely embraced the system of\nGalileo, but had given it an immense weight by the authority of\nhis immortal discoveries. If I insist on this episode, it is\nbecause bad faith is stubborn in its efforts to find an argument\nagainst the conduct of the popes in the great history of the\nmoral progress of science. The Church never fears the light. She\nknows and teaches that the light of reason and the light of faith\ncome from the same source. She knows that one of these truths\nwill never contradict the other, and that among the proofs of\nrevelation we must not forget its harmony with the sciences. The\nsects cannot withstand the presence of science; never has pagan\nor mussulman become a savant without losing his poor, bewildering\nfaith. It is not so of the true religion. From Clement of\nAlexandria and Origen to Descartes, Leibnitz, Pascal, Kepler, and\nDe Maistre, to say nothing of our contemporaries, science and\nfaith have dwelt together in the greatest minds of Christendom.\n\nContinue this glorious tradition, young men of the Catholic\nuniversity, and remain always worthy of your _Alma Mater!_\nBecome truly men, and you will be men the more powerful and\nuseful the more faithful Christians you are.\n\nAnd you, city of Louvain, be justly proud of remaining, through\nyour university, the object of noble envy to the nations which\nsurround you. Ireland has taken you for her model; France and\nCatholic Germany look upon you, and endeavor that they too may\npossess something which resembles you. Never cease to be\nyourself, the city of science and of religion, that your\nchildren, ever faithful to these two lights, may be consoled,\nduring their life and at the hour of death, by the thought that\ntheir love has never divided these two great things which have\nbeen united by the infinite wisdom of God.\n\n ----------\n\n{494}\n\n\n The Story Of Marcel, The Little Mettray Colonist.\n\n\n Chapter XI.\n\n \"Wide o'er the brim, with many a torrent swelled,\n And the mixed ruin of its banks o'erspread,\n At last the roused-up river pours along,\n Resistless, roaring, dreadful.\"\n Thomson.\n\nThe first inundations of the Loire with which we are acquainted\nhave been made known to us by the celebrated historian and bishop\nSt. Gregory of Tours, who has left detailed accounts of eight\ndreadful disasters that occurred in the space of eleven years;\nthat is, from 580 to 591. In the archives of France there is\npreserved an edict of Louis le Debonnaire, son and successor of\nCharlemagne, who, touched by the piteous complaints made to him\nby the inhabitants of Touraine and Anjou, whose harvests were in\nconstant danger from the sudden risings of the river, ordered the\nbuilding of dams and embankments, which, modified by some of his\nsuccessors and strengthened by others, became at last the\nmagnificent structures we behold them at the present day, between\nBlois and Tours.\n\nNevertheless, the capricious river has never yet during all these\nlong centuries been kept for any time within its bed. Its\ndevastations were fearful in 1414, and again in 1615, when the\nsudden melting of the enormous masses of snow which had fallen on\nthe surrounding country during the winter caused so frightful a\ncatastrophe that it has since been known in French history as the\n\"Deluge of Saumur.\" The beginning of the seventeenth century saw\nten risings of the Loire in ten years; and the Duke of\nSaint-Simon has left us, in his celebrated memoirs, a notice of\none in 1708, which was the cause of much misery. In more modern\ntimes, France has had, every eight or ten years, to deplore some\ndreadful misfortune arising from the same source, and the more\nfavored portions of that beautiful land have been compelled\nrepeatedly to come to the aid of the ruined population of the\nbasin of the Loire, whose farm-houses had been swept away by the\nflood, their harvest-fields devastated, their cattle drowned, and\nwho, too often, alas! had also had to weep over irreparable\nlosses far more bitter than these--the life of dear ones lost in\nthe surging waters.\n\nAbout five years after Marcel's admission into the Mettray\nColony, one of the most terrible of these visitations overtook\nthe inhabitants of the banks of the picturesque stream. A long\ncontinuation of rainy weather had swollen the Cher and the\nAllier, both tributaries of the Loire, and the river, rising\nsuddenly, broke through its strong embankments and spread itself\nover the country. The local authorities, of every degree and\nstation--prefect, subprefect, and mayors--with the soldiers,\nengineers, and townspeople of Tours, all hastened to the relief\nof the drowning villages and farms, and all did their duty; but\neven among these courageous men the young Colonists distinguished\nthemselves by their energy and self devotion.\n\n{495}\n\nThe inundation had commenced in the night, and when daylight\nrevealed the extent of the disaster, the director assembled the\nyouths.\n\n\"Boys,\" cried he, \"the Loire has risen, the country is under\nwater, and hundreds of families are in danger of their lives.\nBoys, the oldest and strongest of you must go and help to save\nthem!\"\n\nThe lads looked at one another an instant in silence, then broke\nforth in a cry that rang far and near, \"Long live Demetz! Long\nlive our director!\" a cry that was a perfect explosion of\ngratitude and of pride; for the poor fellows fully comprehended\nall that their wise and good director meant them to\nunderstand--his confidence in their honor, their honesty, and\ntheir courage.\n\nAnd well they justified his trust in them! More than a hundred\nwere soon actively at work raising dikes and clams, propping\nhouses, and carrying succor to the distressed.\n\nMarcel, Polycarpe, and one of their companions, a young baker,\nnamed Priat, to whom both of them were much attached, were among\nthe foremost in these labors. They had gone with some others to\ncarry help to a village containing about twenty families; it was\nsituated only two hundred yards from the river, and completely\nsurrounded by water. An immense quantity of wood--wrecks from\nother villages swept away by the flood--drifted about in the\nstreets, and was dashed incessantly against the water-soaked\nwalls of the houses, shaking them terribly; two, indeed, had\nfallen in the night and been washed away. On the roofs, or\nleaning from the upper windows of the tottering dwellings, were\nto be seen the frightened inhabitants imploring aid; the mothers\nholding out their little ones and praying for pity. It was a\nheart-breaking sight, and the noise of the ever-rising and\nsurging river, of the wind and pouring rain, of the shocks of the\ndrift-wood, increased the terrors of the scene. Nor was it\npossible to approach near enough to the houses to save any of the\nunfortunates shrieking for help; for every boat belonging to the\nplace had either been swamped or had been torn from its moorings\nby the overwhelming current and carried away.\n\n\"Let us run to Saint-Pierre,\" cried Polycarpe, after he and his\ncompanions had contemplated the fearful spectacle for a few\nmoments with consternation. \"We may find a boat there!\"\n\nHe started off as he spoke, followed by half a dozen of the\nColonists. Marcel did not accompany them, for he had heard cries\nof distress from the windmill, a short distance off, and had\nhastened thither with three or four more. The water at this point\nwas quite seven feet deep, and the building evidently giving way.\nThere seemed to be no possibility of saving the miller and his\nwife and child, for the flood rushed so fiercely around the mill\nthat the most experienced swimmer would not have ventured into\nit. Marcel was gazing in hopeless pity at the fated building,\nwhen a man on horseback trotted into the midst of the group of\ndespairing spectators. A sudden thought struck the boy.\n\n\"Give me that horse!\" cried he; \"quick, give me that horse!\"\n\n\"What do you mean, youngster?\" asked the man, somewhat surprised\nby the imperative tone and unexpected demand of the stranger.\n\n\"For God's sake, lend me your horse; every moment that we lose\nmay cost a life!\"\n\n{496}\n\nAs he spoke he turned toward the mill, where the unfortunate\nfamily could be seen at the window, stretching forth their\nimploring hands and crying for help. The traveller got off his\nhorse without another word, and, quick as lightning, Marcel was\nin the saddle and spurring the animal forward into the water.\nBefore his surprised companions well comprehended what he\nintended to do, they saw him breasting the furious current and\nstruggling to reach the windmill.\n\nThey saw him reach it at last, and then the miller letting down\nhis wife to him by a rope passed under her arms. The poor woman\nheld her child clasped closely to her bosom, and though she clung\nto her deliverer with a grasp that almost strangled him, she\nseemed to think only of her babe, whispering to it as Marcel\nurged the panting horse back again to the land, \"Thou art saved,\nmy little one, thou art saved!\"\n\nThe brave boy placed the mother and child in safety in the hands\nof the admiring spectators of his courage and self-devotion;\nthen, without staying for a moment's breathing or rest, forced\nhis unwilling horse again into the flood.\n\nThis time the owner of the good beast made some indignant\nremonstrances. \"Both boy and horse will be lost,\" cried he; \"they\nare both, tired now; they can never fight against the current!\"\n\n\"Why don't the miller throw himself into the water and swim? He's\nfresh and the others aren't.\"\n\n\"Suppose he don't know how,\" answered one of the bystanders; \"and\nif he did, do you think he could stem that torrent?\"\n\n\"Why, he'd be carried down the Loire to the sea, just like a\npiece of straw,\" said another.\n\n\"The horse, the horse, look how he strains! he's giving way! he's\nlost his footing!\" cried half a dozen at this instant.\n\nFor a moment the strong, high-spirited animal was hurried along\nby the foaming, eddying stream, then with a mighty effort\nrecovering himself he reached the mill, and the miller had just\ntime to drop down and cling with a death-grip to the pale,\nintrepid rider, when the building toppled over and was carried\naway!\n\nCries and tears of joy hailed them as they approached the dry\nland; the young Colonists surrounded their heroic companion, and\npresently bore him off to Mettray for a change of clothing and\nsome refreshment; his trembling frame told how much he needed\nthem. But the family he had saved so gallantly did not let him\ndepart before they had thanked him with tears of gratitude, while\nthe owner of the noble horse pressed his hand in both of his and\nswore to be his friend through life.\n\n\"You're a brave fellow, and I honor you,\" cried he. \"I'll be your\nfriend, and a true one, or my name's not Charles Rodez!\"\n\nThe poor miller with his wife and child were taken to a house\nprepared to receive and succor the unfortunate victims of the\ninundation. Food and warm clothing and beds were here ready for\nthe half-starved and half-drowned families that were arriving\ncontinually--poor, despairing people who had most of them lost\ntheir little all, and some of them a father, or husband, or\nchild.\n\nScarcely had Marcel, cold and wet, but very happy, been borne off\nin triumph by his comrades, when there appeared on the road,\ncoming toward the village, a great truck drawn by two horses, and\nloaded with a large boat and its oars.\n\nPolycarpe and his friend Priat had been successful in their\nsearch, and were now returning at the head of the little band of\nColonists who had followed them to Saint-Pierre.\n\n{497}\n\nThe people in the water-logged houses of the village fairly\nscreamed with hope and joy when they saw the procession, and then\nthe boat taken off and launched. A dozen Colonists were eager to\njump in, but Polycarpe and Priat were given the precedence, and\nthey, with another well-grown youth, presently pushed off into\nthe fast and furious stream. It was hard work to keep clear of\nthe drifting beams that were hurled along, rather than carried,\nby the current through the narrow streets of the village; harder\nstill to get the boat near enough to each tottering house to take\noff the frightened family from the roof or out of the windows.\n\nOnce, indeed, it came near being swamped, with eight persons on\nboard, by the sudden falling of a wall of the house from which\nthey had just been saved. Polycarpe's quick eye saw the coming\ndanger in time to give such a vigorous pull with his oar that the\nboat sprang forward just out of reach of the stones and beams,\nbut she was so violently rocked by the concussion of the falling\nmaterials with the water that it seemed a miracle that she did\nnot capsize.\n\nAnd once, too, the brave boy missed his footing as he climbed on\na roof to take off a lame old man, and fell headlong into the\nwater. An admirable swimmer and diver, he did not lose his\npresence of mind, but passed under the boat and came up on the\nother side; he was soon hauled in by poor Priat, who was more\nfrightened and affected by this accident than by any other event\nof that terrible day.\n\nAll day long the work of rescue went on. When the three rowers\nwere exhausted with fatigue, three others took their places.\nThere was not one among the young Colonists who hung back or\nshirked the danger; not one who did not give proof of courage and\nChristian charity. The boat went and came, until, at last, one\nafter another, all the poor peasants were in safety. When night\nfell, not a house of the village was left standing, but not a\nlife had been lost.\n\n\n Chapter XII.\n\n \"Not always full of leaf, nor ever spring,\n Not always endless night, nor yet eternal day;\n The saddest birds a season find to sing,\n The roughest storm a calm may soon allay.\n Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all,\n That man may hope to rise, and fear to fall.\"\n\n Southwell.\n\nThe services rendered by the young Colonists during the\ninundation attracted unusual attention to the Colony, and\nvisitors from Tours, and even from Paris, flocked in numbers to\nMettray every Thursday and Sunday. The afternoons of these two\ndays were set apart for the public, who were permitted to be\npresent at the boys' gymnastic exercises, and for whose pleasure\nthe band of the military establishment performed its best pieces.\n\nOn one of these occasions, about a couple of months after the\nevents we have endeavored to describe in the preceding chapter,\nMarcel remarked a gentleman whose countenance he seemed to\nremember, who appeared to be looking at him, almost examining\nhim, with much attention. Toward the close of the exercises, he\nperceived the same gentleman in conversation with one of the\nhead-officers of the place. Presently they came to him.\n\n\"Marcel,\" said the officer, \"this gentleman wishes to ask you a\nfew questions.\"\n\n\"I want to ask you, my boy, if you recollect ever to have seen me\nbefore!\" said the gentleman, with an encouraging smile.\n\n{498}\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" replied Marcel; \"I believe that I have. I think that\nyou are the Commissary of Police in the Rue des Noyers.\"\n\n\"I was; I see that I am not mistaken either. I never did forget a\nface that struck me. You are the boy who, some years since, found\na bag of Napoleons in the street and brought it to me. Am I not\nright?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" said Marcel, looking down.\n\n\"Well, my good fellow, your honesty saved a poor man from a\nbroken heart; but he was very ill for a long time from the\ndreadful emotions of that night, and circumstances prevented my\nseeking you out immediately, and so it happened that, when I did\ngo to the address you gave me, I only learnt that the woman with\nwhom you lived was dead, and no one could tell me anything about\nyou. I suspect that no one would. Perhaps I was recognized to be\nthe Commissary of Police, and inspired no great confidence. But I\nam glad to see you again, my boy. I have just learned something\nof your history, and I rejoice to find that I was not mistaken in\nthe opinion I formed of you that night that you brought me the\nbag. I often regretted that you received no reward. I don't know\nhow it happened either. You're a brave fellow, too, as well as an\nhonest one, they tell me. Shake hands, will you?\"\n\nHe took Marcel's hand as he spoke; the boy burst into tears; the\npast returned so vividly to his recollection at that moment; the\ncommissary's long speech brought back so much that had almost\nbeen forgotten, so much misery and shame and sin, that the\ndifferent present overpowered him. The good-natured visitor\npatted him on the shoulder in a kind, fatherly manner, his eyes\nglistening with sympathy.\n\n\"Come,\" said he presently, \"tell me what you intend to do when\nyou leave the Colony. I hear that your time will soon be out now.\nWhat trade have you learned?\"\n\n\"I am a gardener,\" replied Marcel. \"I always loved flowers, and I\nshould like to cultivate them.\"\n\n\"Quite right,\" said his new-found friend. \"Well, I shall look out\nfor a place for you. And now, my boy, remember that I am your\nfriend, a sincere one, and be sure to write to me in any\nemergency. This is my address, _M. de Morel, Rue du Luxembourg,\nParis;_ take care of this card, and do not forget to let me\nknow two or three months before you leave the Colony.\"\n\nHe gave Marcel his card, with another cordial shake of the hand,\nand, returning to his party, shortly after left the\nestablishment.\n\nMarcel had a long talk with the father of the family and\nPolycarpe that evening. They both agreed that the promised\ninfluence of M. de Morel was a bright prospect for Marcel's\nfuture career.\n\n\"This friendship, however, is not absolutely necessary for your\nprosperity hereafter, Marcel,\" said the father. \"You know well\nthat Mettray never abandons her children. Our good director would\nfind you a suitable situation, and continue to watch over your\ninterests. But still I think you must do as this kind gentleman\nwishes. It is a pleasant and useful thing to have friends; one\ncannot have too many good ones!\"\n\n\"You will get acquainted with the poor clerk, very likely,\"\nremarked Polycarpe. \"Wouldn't you be glad to know him? I should,\nI think.\"\n\n\"Yes, I think I should too,\" answered Marcel thoughtfully.\n\n{499}\n\nThe friends went to bed that night very happy; Marcel to dream of\nthat future garden, the aim of all his ambition, in which he\nwandered, hand in hand with the poor clerk, until the clarion\nsounded; Polycarpe to fancy himself marching, drums beating,\ncolors flying, at the head of a regiment of Zouaves!\n\n\n\nThere is not a pleasanter place in Paris than the Garden of\nPlants--the people's delight and the people's own!\n\nWho that has seen it in spring can forget its magnificent avenues\nof linden-trees, fragrant with the delicious perfume of the\ntassel-like blossoms; its grand old chestnut-trees, covered with\nspikes of creamy-white or rose-colored flowers; its lilac-bushes,\nits pear-trees, white with blossoms, as if they had been snowed\non! And then the twitter of birds, mingled with the bleating of\nsheep and goats, and the soft lowing of cows! Delightful sights\nand sounds in the very heart of poor old Paris, close by the door\nof the hospital! 'Tis there that the pale Parisian workman spends\nhis holiday with his wife and children; 'tis there the little\nones learn to love and be gentle to God's creatures.\n\nHow pleasant it is in the warm summer-time, when the shady\navenues are crowded with bands of happy children, jumping the\nrope or playing at hide-and-seek behind the thick trunks of the\nold trees planted by Buffon, while their smiling mothers sit near\nwith their sewing. How beautiful then are the gay parterres of\nbright-colored flowers so skilfully grouped, so harmoniously\ncontrasted! How interesting the rich botanic garden, where so\nmany strange exotic plants, each with its common as well as\nscientific name legibly inscribed near it, can be freely and\nconveniently studied by all!\n\nWho that has climbed the little hill, on whose summit stands the\nCedar of Lebanon, and rested beneath the glorious spreading\nbranches, has not felt it a heart-warming sight to watch the\ncrowds of hard-working people rambling with their children amidst\nthe trees and flowers of this magnificent garden; here stopping\nto feed the patient elephant, who seems to pass his life begging\nfor bits of bread; here contemplating, with some aversion\nperhaps, the clumsy hippopotamus bathing its unwieldy form in its\ntank; then making a long pause before the monkeys' palace, where\nsome twenty of those natural gymnasts excite roars of laughter by\ntheir tricks; and then again before the great cage of the\nmany-colored parrots, that look to the delighted children like\ngiant flying-flowers? And as they stroll along, the goats and\nsheep, and soft-eyed gazelles and fawns, that beg by the way, get\neach a few crumbs of black bread and many caresses; and the boys\njest _en passant_ with the bear at the bottom of his\npit--\"Old Martin\" they call him--and they bribe him to climb the\ngreat pole placed expressly for him, with a bit of crust; and the\nlittle girls pity the eagle as they pass by his narrow grated\nprison. Sitting there under the cedar, the eye falls almost\ninvoluntarily on a group of pretty houses, nestled together in a\ncorner not far from the Museums of Natural History. They are the\nresidences of many of the professors attached to the Garden of\nPlants--professors of botany, of comparative anatomy, of\nmineralogy and geology, of natural history, etc.--men of\nworld-wide reputations, whom the privileged inhabitants of Paris\nmay hear lecture on these various sciences, in well-ventilated,\nwell-warmed halls, twice every week, for nothing.\n\n{500}\n\nIn an out of the way nook, but quite near to the homes of these\ncelebrated men, there was one quaint, old-fashioned little house\nwhich, in the spring of the year 1859, had been appropriated as\nthe dwelling of one of the head-gardeners, a young man of great\nintelligence in his profession, and who had lately been appointed\nto the situation.\n\nIt was a very little house, it is true, but large enough for the\ntenant and his young, newly-made wife, who thought it, for her\npart, the sweetest nest ever built. It was covered with climbing\nroses; they could scarcely be shut out by the windows and doors,\nso that it had received the name of \"The House of the Roses.\"\nOutside, it needed no other ornament to be beautiful; inside, its\ncharms were neatness, cheerfulness, cleanliness, and quiet.\n\nBut the afternoon that we present it to our readers the little\nhouse was in a bustle, for wife Gabrielle and her maid Marie were\npreparing a dinner far more elaborate than was usual in that\nsimple household, and very anxious were the two little women that\nevery dish should be worthy of the occasion, for the banquet was\nto feast the return of an old friend from the war in Italy.\n\nThe master of the house had but just got home from his daily\noccupations when there came a vigorous ring at the door, and he\nran to open it.\n\n\"Marcel!\"\n\n\"Polycarpe!\"\n\nThe two friends threw themselves into each other's arms, unable\nto utter another word.\n\n\"How well and happy you look!\" exclaimed Polycarpe at last,\nlaying his hand caressingly on his friend's shoulder and gazing\naffectionately at him.\n\n\"And you, Polycarpe, what a tremendous fellow _you are_ with\nyour turban and your great beard!\" returned Marcel, looking with\nadmiration at the supple, sinewy form of the handsome Zouave, on\nwhose broad chest shone the Cross of the Legion of Honor.\n\nThe blushing young wife received her husband's old friend with a\ncordiality that soon put the soldier quite at his ease, and by\nthe time the dinner was ended they were chatting together as if\nthey were acquaintances of ten years' standing.\n\n\"Now, Marcel,\" said Polycarpe, when the happy trio were quietly\nseated in the little salon through whose open windows the fresh\nroses peeped in, perfuming the soft evening air--\"now, Marcel,\nyou must tell me something more about yourself than the few\nletters I have received from you have contained.\"\n\n\"First, let _me_ tell you something, Monsieur Polycarpe,\"\ncried Gabrielle. \"Let me tell you that I shall be grateful to\nyou, and love you as a brother to my dying day, for having saved\nMarcel from being a soldier.\"\n\n\"Madam,\" replied the Zouave, laughing, \"you must love me as your\nbrother, but you owe me no gratitude. Why, I had always wished to\nbe a soldier, and it was the most natural thing in the world that\nI should exchange my good number for Marcel's bad one. But that\ndrawing for the conscription is really a dreadful ordeal!\"\n\n\"Thank God that you have come back to us!\" ejaculated Marcel\nsoftly.\n\n\"Oh! that horrible battle of Solferino!\" cried Gabrielle with a\nshudder. \"When Marcel knew that you had been engaged in it, I\nthought that he would go distracted, until he was assured of your\nsafety.\"\n\n\"He ought to have seen us Zouaves, how ready we were for the\nfight; not a man among us who would have backed out!\"\n\n{501}\n\n\"It was because I knew your impetuosity, Polycarpe,\" said Marcel,\n\"that I despaired of ever seeing you again.\"\n\n\"Well, my friend!\" said the soldier, pressing his friend's hand,\n\"here I am, safe and sound, with two legs and two arms; there is\nmany a brave man who came back from Solferino who cannot say\nthat!\"\n\n\"I have always been lucky,\" continued he after a short pause; \"I\nentered the army a simple soldier, without a single friend, and\nyet here I am with the Cross of the Legion of Honor, and next\nmonth I shall get my epaulettes!\"\n\n\"I am not surprised, not in the least surprised. You acted like a\nhero in Italy, I know, or you would not have been decorated! We\nshall see you a captain soon!\" And Gabrielle clapped her little\nhands with delight at the thought.\n\n\"Come, Marcel,\" cried Polycarpe, laughing, \"I shall become too\nvain if I listen to your wife any longer. Come, tell me; when we\nparted, you for Paris, and I for the army, how did you get on?\"\n\n\"It will be a twice-told tale to you, Polycarpe, for you must\nhave received my letters!\"\n\n\"Never mind! There are gaps in what I know of your doings, and\nthey must be filled up.\"\n\n\"Well, then, after that painful parting with our friends at\nMettray, I proceeded to Paris, and went immediately to see M. de\nMorel; he was just as cordial as he had given me reason to\nbelieve he would be, and one of the very first things he did was\nto take me to see Gabrielle's father.\"\n\n\"Do you know who he was, Monsieur Polycarpe, or is that one of\nthe gaps you mentioned?\" interrupted Gabrielle, smiling.\n\n\"Oh! no, that is not a gap,\" replied the soldier. \"I know that it\nwas your father who lost the bag of gold Marcel was so fortunate\nas to find.\"\n\n\"What a dreadful remembrance that night is to us all even now! I\nwas very young then, but I can perfectly recollect my poor\nfather's despair, and my mother's bitter weeping. I have never\nsince heard of a sum of money being found, without picturing to\nmyself the loser's agony, and some such scene of wretchedness as\nI witnessed in my own home!\"\n\n\"Monsieur Tixier received me as if I were his son,\" continued\nMarcel.\n\n\"Well, you were to be!\" said Gabrielle archly.\n\n\"But I certainly never should have dared to have thought of such\na thing then,\" replied her husband, smiling. \"I saw Mademoiselle\nGabrielle sitting at work by her mother's side; but I little\ndreamt that that fair young girl would ever be my wife!\"\n\n\"How glad we were to see him, you can imagine, Monsieur\nPolycarpe! We had wanted for years to prove our gratitude to him!\nBut you know we had never been able to find him. In the street\nwhere he used to live they told father that Pelagie Vautrin was\ndead, and the family with whom Marcel lived had moved.\"\n\n\"You can understand how that happened, Polycarpe,\" continued\nMarcel, \"for you know that your unfortunate father was never seen\nagain after that day when we so hastily fled the house. And then\nyour mother and Loulou left the neighborhood.\"\n\n\"Poor father, poor mother, both gone!\" sighed the soldier. \"How\noften have I hoped to possess a decent home of my own that I\nmight save them from a miserable old age! They are both gone, for\nI cannot help believing that my father is dead.\"\n\n{502}\n\n\"Loulou will be a comfort to you; the good sisters in Rue St.\nJacques have brought her up well. She is a good, industrious\ngirl, and an excellent needlewoman. Gabrielle has had her to\nspend the day with us twice, and we are very fond of her.\"\n\n\"Madame Gabrielle, how can I thank you! What kind, good friends\nyou are to me!\" The brave Zouave hid his face for a moment in his\nhands; when he raised it, his cheeks glistened as if they had\njust been washed with tears.\n\n\"Go on, Marcel, what happened after you had made the acquaintance\nof M. Tixier?\"\n\n\"Very shortly after, M. de Morel succeeded in getting me a place\nin the staff of gardeners attached to the Garden of Plants, and\nhere I have worked steadily on while you have been fighting my\nbattles, Polycarpe.\"\n\n\"You have fought your own, Marcel, and manfully too!\"\n\n\"Happy years they have been--my profession pleased me, and I made\nmany friends, and as time went on I was promoted, until, at last,\nsix months ago, I was appointed one of the head-gardeners, with a\ngood salary and this little house rent free.\"\n\n\"And then, Monsieur Polycarpe, my good father, who had known for\na long time that Marcel and I loved one another dearly, made him\nunderstand that my mother would be happy to call him her son!\"\n\n\"Yes, when my way was clear before me, my good friend bestowed on\nme the best little wife that ever man was blessed with; and where\ndo you think we went for our wedding trip?\"\n\n\"Where? Why, to Mettray, of course,\" cried Polycarpe excitedly.\n\n\"Yes, to Mettray. We staid with Rodez at Tours; he was very kind\nto us, and took us to see all our friends. First of all, Priat;\nhe is foreman to the richest baker in the town, and is very\nhighly esteemed by his master. He was very glad to see me again,\nand we talked a great deal of you and of the Zouaves.\"\n\n\"Good fellow! I shall go to see him, one of these days!\"\nexclaimed Polycarpe.\n\n\"Yes, do. Then we went to Mettray. How my heart beat when I\ncaught sight again of the chapel steeple! I saw many new faces,\nbut our kind director, and the good abbe, and the father of our\nfamily were there just the same, all well, and so glad to see me,\nand so glad to know that I was prosperous and happy; and they\nadmired my little wife so much!\"\n\n\"Enough, enough, Marcel!\" interrupted Gabrielle, brightly\nblushing and smiling.\n\n\"Marcel,\" said Polycarpe after a short silence, \"I have been on\nthe battle-field, my comrades falling by hundreds around me,\nwhile I was spared; I have seen death in its most fearful shapes,\nand human suffering inconceivable to the imagination of those who\nhave not witnessed it, and I have escaped, unhurt, untouched; but\nI declare to you that when the battle was over and the danger\npast, I never felt that overpowering gratitude that fills my\nheart when I remember Mettray. For, after all, what is physical\npain, what is the loss of this life compared to that corruption\nof the heart and conscience that was ours when we first entered\nthe Colony? I do not believe that I have ever closed my eyes in\nsleep since I quitted that saving home before praying, 'God bless\nthe founders of Mettray!'\"\n\n ----------\n\n{503}\n\n Protestantism A Failure. [Footnote 160]\n\n [Footnote 160:\n 1. _Failure of Protestantism, and Catholicism\n the Remedy_: Four Discourses delivered by the Rev.\n F. C. Ewer, D.D., in Christ Church, Fifth avenue,\n New York. Reported in the New York _Times_, 1868.\n 2. _Dr. Ewer's Reply to Dr. Adams and Others_,\n in Defence of his Discourses on the _Failure of\n Protestantism, and Catholicism the Remedy_. Reported\n in the New York _World_, November 16th, 1868.]\n\n\nDr. Ewer is a Protestant Episcopal minister of Christ Church in\nthis city, and is, we are assured, no ordinary man. Afflicted in\nearly life with doubts of the truth of revealed religion, but\nsubsequently getting the better of them, he joined the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church, became an Episcopalian minister in California,\nwhence he was called to the pastorate of Christ Church in this\ncity. He is, we are told, a man of great ability, of genuine\neloquence, and a true pulpit orator. He appears to be an honest\nand earnest-minded man, who took seriously the church pretensions\nof Episcopalians, treated the Episcopal Church as a real\nChristian church, in which he might hold, develop, and defend\nwhat he regarded as real church principles.\n\nBut he found that he had counted without his host, that is,\nwithout his vestry, with whom the principal power in Episcopalian\nchurches is lodged. His vestry or wardens complained of his\npreaching, and censured his doctrine as tending Romeward, or as\nnot sufficiently Protestant. Like a brave man, he answered their\ncomplainings by these four discourses, in which he distinctly\nasserts the _failure of Protestantism as a religious system,\nand \"Catholicism\" as the remedy._ Nothing could be more\nstartling to a Protestant congregation, and it seems to have\nstartled to a considerable extent the whole American Protestant\npublic. But we are bound to say, if any one imagines that in\nthese discourses Dr. Ewer rejects Protestantism for the church in\ncommunion with the Roman Apostolic See, he is very much in error.\nDr. Ewer, in the train of the Oxford Tracts, the Puseyites, and\nthe Ritualists, disclaims Protestantism, proves unanswerably that\nit was a blunder, and is as a religion a disastrous failure; but\nthe Catholicity he looks to for a remedy is of a very different\nstamp from ours, and whether it be a genuine Catholicity or not,\nhe claims to be as far from being a _Romanist_ as he thinks\nhe is from being a Protestant. Rome, he says, failed in the\nfifteenth century, as Protestantism has failed in the nineteenth.\n\nThat Protestantism was a sad blunder, and has proved a disastrous\nfailure, Catholics have proved over and over again; and on this\npoint Dr. Ewer has said no more nor better than they had said\nbefore him. He has said no more than was said by the Oxford men,\nor than is said every day by the Ritualists, who are so strong in\nthe English Church that its authorities do not dare condemn, and\nare obliged to tolerate them. The Convention of the Protestant\nEpiscopal Church of the United States, lately in session in this\ncity, could not by any means be induced to take any action\nagainst them, or to do anything to favor the party in the church\nopposed to them. The Anglican Church, or a considerable portion\nof it, would, if it could, like to get rid of the name of\n_Protestant_, and assume that of _Catholic_. It is\ngrowing ashamed of its origin and principles, and it has many\nnoble members who are doing their best to bring its doctrine and\nform of worship up to the level of Catholicity.\n{504}\nDr. Ewer indeed says nothing of Protestantism that all thinking\nmen do not see and know as well as he. Protestantism was always\nmore political and national than religious. It originated chiefly\nwith the princes of the sixteenth century, who were opposed, for\nsecular reasons, to the pope, or wished to frighten him in order\nto bring him to their terms; and it relied wholly on the civil\npower to diffuse, protect, and defend it. Now, when the civil\npowers are abandoning it as no longer necessary to their\npurposes, and giving partial or complete liberty to Catholics, it\nis able to make a show of sustaining itself only by forming an\nintimate alliance with the unbelief and naturalism of the age. It\nis not an insignificant circumstance that, when recently the\nattempt, for political purposes, was made in England to revive\nthe \"No Popery\" cry, once so effective, it wholly failed. The\nProtestant mind in the Protestant world is evidently drifting\naway from the Reformation, even if not drifting toward the\nchurch.\n\nBut though the part of Dr. Ewer's discourses which so effectually\nprove the failure of Protestantism as a religious system is the\npart most satisfactory to us, we must for various reasons confine\nthe remarks we design to make chiefly to the remedy proposed. The\nerror, nay, the blunder, the author assures us, was in breaking\naway from the One Holy Catholic Church of the Bible and the\nCreed, and setting up in its place the Bible interpreted, by the\nprivate spirit or private judgment, almost inevitably tending to\ndiscredit the Bible, and to develop in pure rationalism or\nnaturalism; the remedy, of course, must be in the return to this\nOne Catholic Apostolic Church with its divinely instituted\npriesthood, its august sacrifice, its sacraments, sacred rites,\nand plenary authority in matters of faith and discipline. This,\nif asserted by us, would be very intelligible to all the world,\nand would mean a return to the Roman Catholic Apostolic Church,\nor church in communion with the Apostolic See of Rome, the See or\nthe Chair of Peter. But Dr. Ewer takes great pains to have us\nunderstand that this is not his meaning, and that in rejecting\nProtestantism he is far from accepting _Romanism_, or Roman\nCatholicity. The puzzle, then, is to determine what, which, or\nwhere is the One Catholic Apostolic Church which he proposes as\nthe remedy of the widespread evils of Protestantism.\n\nIs it the Roman Church? No. That is a Catholic Church, but not\nthe Catholic Church. Is it the Greek or Oriental Church? No. That\nis a catholic church, but not the Catholic Church. Is it the\nAnglican? No. That, again, is a catholic church, but not the\nCatholic Church. These, the doctor says, near the conclusion of\nhis second sermon, are particular and local churches, not the one\nuniversal church itself, but holding from it and subordinate to\nit. Where, then, is this universal church? He answers, in the\nsame sermon, a little further on, \"We must go deeper and broader\"\nthan these particular and local churches \"to find the Catholic\nChurch, down to the great foundation on which the three stand;\ndown out of the differences of the brothers to the unity of the\nfamily, to find the ground upon which we stand as Catholics, not\nas Romanists, not s Greeks, not as Anglicans, far less as\nEpiscopalians.\"\n{505}\nBut is this catholic church which underlies alike the three\nparticular churches an organ or organism distinct from them, with\na centre of unity, life, and authority, independent of them, but\non which they themselves depend for their church unity,\nauthority, and life? Not at all. If we understand the author, the\nCatholic Church is in what these three particular or local\nchurches have in common, in what they agree in holding, or what\nremains after eliminating their differences. In order not to do\nthe author any injustice, we quote nearly at length, in his own\nwords, the answer he gives in his fourth discourse to the\nquestion, \"What is the Catholic Church?\"\n\n \"Now, a church is an organism. The Catholic Church must be an\n organism universal over space and universal back through time\n to Christ. Suppose, now, I go to the Methodists again. I find\n there an organism; but in looking back I find it was arranged\n about the time of John Wesley, one hundred years ago. Before\n his day there was no such church organism. I pass then to the\n Presbyterians. There I find a different organism. But in\n looking back I find it dates its origin only about three\n hundred years ago. That will not answer, then. Very well, I try\n the Congregationalists, and, in fact, each and all of the\n modern Protestant organizations. Avowedly they do not, any of\n them, run back into the dreadful mediaeval times--those _dark\n ages_. Whatever these Protestant organisms may be, then,\n they must each and all be set aside, as, at any rate, not\n Catholic organisms either in space or in time, and therefore\n not Catholic at all. Well, suppose I come to our church. I find\n it, as an organism, with its bishops, priests, and deacons, its\n ritual form of worship, its altars and sacraments, its\n conventions and synods, its dioceses and parishes, running back\n in the history of England into mediaeval times; yea, still\n further back through the early days of old Britain and up even\n to the apostles. I seem to strike something Catholic here. But\n be not in haste. Suppose I go to the Roman Church. I find that\n I can trace its life back also interruptedly to the apostles.\n Suppose I go to the Greek Church. I find the same peculiarity\n of continued existence back to the apostles there. Here, then,\n in the Roman, Greek, and Anglican churches, we have reached\n something which it will do at least to pause upon for further\n investigation.\n\n \"But have a care. When we look a little more closely into the\n Anglican organization as a whole and consider it part by part,\n and when we examine the Roman organization in like manner, and\n the Greek, we find that each of the three differs from the\n other two in certain respects. Rome has a pope and a cultus of\n St. Mary the ever-Virgin; these are not parts of the Greek (?)\n or of the Anglican organisms. Though we have paused here, then,\n though the Catholic Church must be hereabouts somewhere,\n nevertheless, when we have reached our church, we have not yet\n reached the Catholic Church we are in search of; when we go to\n Rome, we have not yet reached that Catholic Church; and\n equally, when we go to the Greeks, we have not reached the\n object of our search. For we find that neither of these three\n organisms, when taken as a whole, and in all its minutiae, is\n accepted by the other two. _Shall we go elsewhere, then?\n There is nowhere else to go._\n\n \"Let us look, then, more closely still here. As we examine, we\n find that, although the three--Anglican, Greek, and Roman--\n thus differ in some respects, they are marvellously alike in\n all others. All three have a hierarchy of bishops, priests, and\n deacons. All have the holy altar of the tremendous sacrifice as\n the central object in their churches. All have robed clergy.\n All have saints' days and identical ecclesiastical seasons. All\n have a ritual form of worship. All have parishes, dioceses, and\n provinces, All (?) date their life back into the first century.\n All have stately ceremonials and processions; the Greeks the\n most glorious, the Romans less, and the Anglicans the least.\n\n \"All acknowledge the authority of general councils. All have\n the same apostolic succession and the same sacraments. Here,\n then, I begin to find the Catholic Church. Those few\n peculiarities in which the Greek, the Anglican, and the Roman\n differ from each other are merely local; all those many\n peculiarities in which the three are at one shape out for me\n visibly, solidly, and sharply the great Catholic Church; one in\n space as in organism, and one in time; to be found equally in\n Russia, and Italy, and England, and America, and Mexico, and\n Germany, and Brazil--everywhere; to be found, too, in the\n nineteenth century, and equally in mediaeval time, and also in\n the earliest days, unchanged and unchangeable.\n{506}\n And everything in the Anglican, Greek, and Roman bodies which\n the three hold in common, and which has been held in them,\n everywhere, always, and by all, is Catholic. Anything else,\n any peculiarity which we have that Rome and the Easterns have\n not, or which Rome has, but the Greeks and we have not, or\n which the Greeks have, but Rome and we have not, is merely\n local, partial, and not Catholic.\"\n\nThis is explicit enough. Take all that any one of the three holds\nin which the other two agree, and you have the One Holy Catholic\nApostolic Church. Eliminate from all three the points in which\nthey differ, which are assumed to be trifling, and take their\npoints of agreement, and you will have what the preacher calls\n\"Catholicism,\" and which he proposes as the remedy for the evils\nof Protestantism. Extend the rule so as to include all\nprofessedly Christian churches, denominations, or sects which\nprofessedly recognize a Christian church and a Christian\nministry, and it will be the view of the Catholic Church\ngenerally taken by Protestants. No Protestant sect has ever had\nthe audacity to claim to be itself alone the visible Catholic\nChurch of the Creed; and none of the older Protestant sects deny\nthat there is, in some sense, a visible Catholic Church. In the\nearly Protestant teaching, if not in the later, there is\nrecognized one visible Catholic Church, which is what all\nprofessedly Christian communions agree in holding, or which alike\nunderlies them all. In this sense, Presbyterians and\nCongregationalists, Methodists and Baptists, Lutherans and\nCalvinists, have always been as strenuous asserters of the\nCatholic Church and of Catholicity as is Dr. Ewer himself. We\nsee, then, in Dr. Ewer's \"Catholicism,\" nothing that need startle\na Protestant or especially gratify a Catholic. In principle, at\nleast, he asserts a very common Protestant doctrine, and in no\nsense necessarily breaks, except in words, with the Protestant\nReformation.\n\nBut be this as it may, it is certain that Dr. Ewer admits no\ncatholic body or organic centre of unity and catholicity distinct\nfrom the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican churches, and\nindependent of them, and recognizes no catholicity but what these\nthree churches agree in maintaining and possess in common.\nNeither of them, he contends, is by itself alone the Catholic\nChurch; each is a catholic church, but no one of them is the\nCatholic Church herself. Whence, then, their quality of catholic\nchurches? Particular or local churches are catholic because they\nhold from, depend on, and commune with a catholic centre of\nunity, life, and authority, which is distinct from and\nindependent of themselves. This is not the case with the three\nchurches named; they hold from and depend on no common organic\ncentre, recognize no organic source of life independent of\nthemselves, are subordinated to no authority not each one's own,\ncommune with no centre of unity which each one has not in itself,\nand not even with one another. They are each complete in\nthemselves, and are therefore not three inferior churches,\nsubordinate to one supreme catholic apostolic church, but, if\nchurches at all, three distinct, separate, and independent\nchurches. If, then, no one of them is the one holy catholic\napostolic church, no one of them is even a catholic church, and\nDr. Ewer fails entirely to recognize any Catholic Church at all.\n\n{507}\n\nThe author is deceived in his assumption that these three\nchurches are particular or local churches, subordinated to the\nuniversal church. St. Mary's church, which is my parish church,\nis a catholic church, if the see of Rome is the Catholic\nApostolic See; for it depends on it, and through the bishop of\nthe diocese communes with that see, and through that see with\nevery other particular catholic church, thus establishing in the\nunity and catholicity of the See of Rome, or, as the fathers\nsaid, the See of Peter, the unity and catholicity of all\nparticular or local churches in communion with it. By coming into\ncommunion with St. Mary's church, one comes into communion with\nthe one universal church, is in the catholic communion, and is a\nCatholic; but nothing of the sort can be affirmed either of the\nGreek Church or of the Anglican. They acknowledge no\nsubordination to any other organic body in existence; they depend\nrespectively on no ecclesiastical authority or organic centre\nindependent of themselves; they commune neither with each other\nnor with the Church of Rome, which holds them to be both in\nschism, and one of them in heresy. Certain Anglican ministers\nwould willingly commune with the Greek Church, but it repels\nthem, and declares that sect to be not even a church. The three\nchurches named cannot, then, be particular churches holding from\na common centre of unity, and Dr. Ewer must take one of them as\nthe Catholic Church and exclude the other two, or have no\nCatholic Church at all.\n\nThe fact that there are certain points, if you will, essential\npoints, of agreement between these three bodies, does by no means\nmake them one body. Agreement is not identity. Great Britain and\nthe United States speak the same language; adopt the same Common\nLaw, which governs their respective courts; agree to a great\nextent in their usages, manners and customs, and civil\ninstitutions; and throughout they have a far closer resemblance\nto each other than has the Anglican Church to either the Greek\nChurch or the Roman Church; and yet, are they not one nation,\nwith one national authority, and having one and the same national\nlife. Eliminate from New York and New Jersey the points in which\nthey differ, and retain only the points in which they agree, and\nwould they be one state under one and the same state government?\nNot at all, because they are separate organizations, and, as\nstates, are each independent of the other. The Eastern churches\nwere once in communion with Rome under the supremacy of the\nApostolic See, and then were one with the Roman Church; but\nhaving separated from that see, they are churches in schism\nindeed, but _de facto_ independent. There was, down to the\nsixteenth century, a Catholic Church in England in communion with\nthe Church of Rome or the Apostolic See; but the so-called Church\nof England is not its continuation, and, in the judgment of both\nthe Roman Church and the Greek Church, is not a church at all,\nfor it has no orders, no priesthood, no sacrifice; its so-called\nbishops and clergymen are only laymen, but for the most part\neducated, refined, and highly respectable laymen, devoted to the\nelegant pursuits of literature and science, the cultivation of\nprivate and public morals, and the interests and well-being of\ntheir families. But not to insist on this at present, we may\naffirm that, even supposing Anglicans have an episcopate, and\nthat it resembles the Greek and Roman episcopates, it is no more\nidentical with them than the government of Great Britain is\nidentically that of Italy, Prussia, or Austria. These three\nstates are all limited monarchies; they also all have\nparliamentary governments, and place the sovereignty in the\nnation, not in a particular family.\n{508}\nBut they are not one and the same monarchy, nor one and the same\ngovernment, for they are politically separate and independent. It\nwill not do to answer this by saying that each of these three\nepiscopates hold equally from Jesus Christ, and are one in him;\nfor that would either suppose the church to be in her unity and\ncatholicity invisible, and without any visible organ or\nmanifestation; or else that Christ has three churches, or three\nbodies, which the author can admit no more than we, for he\nprofesses to hold or believe ONE Holy Catholic Apostolic Visible\nChurch.\n\nIn the beginning of the extract from Dr. Ewer's fourth discourse,\nthe church is declared to be \"an organism.\" An organism, we need\nnot tell a man like him, is a living body, not a simple\naggregation of parts, or an organization which, having no life in\nitself, depends on the mechanical, electric, or chemical\narrangement of its several parts. In every living body or\norganism, there is and must be--as the older physiologists, and\neven the most recent and eminent, like M. Virchow, of Berlin, and\nM. Claude Bernard, of Paris, tell us, and by their researches and\ndiscoveries have proved--an original central cell, from which the\nwhole organism proceeds, in which its vital principle inheres,\nand which is the type, creator, originator, and director of all\nits vital phenomena. The whole life, evolution, and course of the\norganism is originated and determined by this original central\ncell--this germ, or ovule, without which no organic life or\nliving body is possible. This primitive cell or germ is never\nspontaneously generated, but is always generated by a living\norganism which precedes and deposits it, according to the old\nmaxim, _omne vivum ex ovo._ [Footnote 161]\n\n [Footnote 161: See a very learned and scientific essay in\n _Le Correspondant_, for October 25th, 1868, _De l'Id\u00e9e\n de Vie dans la Physiologie Contemporaine_, by Dr.\n Chauffard, known to our readers by a very able essay _On\n the Present Disputes of Philosophy_, translated and\n published in this magazine for November last, though the\n types made us call him Dr. Chauf_ai_d instead of Dr.\n Chauff_a_rd.]\n\nIt is the origin and law of the unity, evolution, or growth of\nthe organism, and is the type and generator of all the\ninnumerable cells which form the whole cellular system of the\nentire organism, whether normal or abnormal.\n\nWhat we insist on here is that there is no organism without this\noriginal central cell or germ, and that this central cell, whence\nthe unity of the organism is generated by a pre-existing\norganism, that is, by ancestors of the same species, and is\nneither self-generated nor made up by any possible mechanical or\nphysico-chemical action or combination of parts, as Messrs.\nVirchow and Bernard have demonstrated. This principle or law of\nall organic life is universal, and applies to the church as an\norganism, notwithstanding her supernatural character, as to any\nof the organisms studied and experimented upon by physiologists\nin the natural order. The Creator does not work after one law in\nthe natural order, and another and diverse or contradictory law\nin the supernatural order; and herein we discover the reason of\nthe perfect accord of all the Creator's works, the perfect\nharmony of revelation and real science, and the aid revelation\ngives to science, and, in return, the aid that real science gives\nto the interpretation and clearer understanding of revelation.\nGod is one, and works always after one and the same law in all\norders, and is never in contradiction with himself.\n\n{509}\n\nThe essential error of the non-catholic church theory is, that it\ndenies the central cell or germ whence is evolved or produced the\nwhole church organism, and assumes that the church derives her\nlife from her members, and that she is constituted in her unity\nand catholicity as a living body by the combination of the\nseveral parts, or that the central cell is created by the\norganism, not the organism by the central or organic cell, which\nis as much as to say, multiplicity can exist without unity to\nproduce it, or that dead or unliving parts can generate life and\nactivity! No one need be surprised that men of clear heads and\nlogical minds, trying to remove, on Protestant principles, the\ndiscrepancies between science and the Protestant religion, should\nrush into materialism and atheism. The principle the Protestant\nadopts in his non-catholic church theory is precisely the\nprinciple on which Mr. Herbert Spencer proceeds when he ascribes\nall the phenomena of life, or of the living organism, to the\nmechanical, electric, and chemical arrangement of material atoms.\nThe same principle applied in theology leads inevitably to\natheism; for, multiplicity given as prior to and independent of\nunity, no argument in favor of the divine existence can have any\nvalidity, nay, no argument to prove that there is a God can be\nconceived. Such is the terrible injury the non-catholic or\nProtestant church theory has done and is doing to both religion\nand science.\n\nDr. Ewer, no doubt, intends to reject, and honestly believes that\nhe has rejected, this destructive theory, which, universally\napplied, results in nihilism; but we fear that he has not. He\nincludes the one catholic church in what he calls the three\nparticular churches--the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican. Each\nof these, he says, is a catholic church, but no one of them is\nthe Catholic Church. Whence, then, do they or can they derive\ntheir character of catholic? The Catholic Church, according to\nhim, is an organism. If an organism, it must have a central cell,\nan _organite_, or organic centre, originated not by itself,\nfrom which all in the organism proceeds, or in which, in the\nlanguage of St. Cyprian, all \"takes its rise,\" and therefore on\nwhich all the parts depend. This central cell, which in the\nchurch we may call the central see or chair, and which the\nfathers, whether Greek or Latin, call the Chair of Peter, and\nsince it is the origin of all the parts, is evidently prior to\nthem and independent of them. They do not constitute it, but it\nproduces, sustains, and governs them. On no other conditions is\nit possible to assert or conceive the unity and catholicity of\nthe church as an organism. Particular churches are Catholic by\nholding from and communing with this central see or the organic\ncentre, not otherwise.\n\nBut Dr. Ewer acknowledges no such central cell or central see.\nHis organism has no organic centre, and consequently is no\norganism at all, but a simple union or confederacy of equal and\nindependent sees. Rome, Constantinople, or Canterbury is no more\na central see or organic centre of the church than any other see\nor diocese, as Caesarea, Milan, Paris, Toledo, Aberdeen, London,\nor Armagh, and to be in the unity of the church there is no\nparticular see, mother and mistress of all the churches, with\nwhich it is necessary to commune. The several sees may agree in\ntheir constitution, doctrine, liturgy, and discipline, but they\nare not integrated in any church unity or living church organism.\nThis is the theory of the schismatic Greeks, and of Anglicans and\nProtestant Episcopalians, and is simply the theory of\nindependency, as much so as that of the New England\nCongregationalists, but it admits no organic unity.\n{510}\nIt is also the theory which Dr. Ewer himself appears to assert\nand defend. By what authority is he able to pronounce any one of\nthe three churches named a catholic church, since no one of them\nholds from a catholic centre, or a central unity, for he\nrecognizes no such centre or unity? The only unity of the church\nhe can admit is that formed by the combination of the several\nparts, a unity formed from multiplicity. He holds that we need a\ngreat catholic reformation, a combination of the Roman, the\nGreek, and the Anglican churches, which shall \"evolve unity from\nmultiplexity.\" Here, it seems to us, is an unmistakable\nrecognition, as the basis of his catholicity, of the non-catholic\nchurch theory, and a virtual denial of the unity and catholicity\nof the church; for from multiplicity can be evolved only\ntotality, which, so far from being unity, excludes it altogether.\n\nRecognizing no central see, centre and source of the unity and\ncatholicity of the church, how can Dr. Ewer determine what\nchurches are in schism or what are in union, what are catholic\nand what are not? What criterion of unity and catholicity has he\nor can he have? He says the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican\nare catholic, and he confines the Catholic Church to them. But\nhow can he call them catholic, since they have no common organic\ncentre, and have no intercommunion? We can find in his discourses\nno answer to this question but the fact that they have certain\nthings in common. Why confine the Catholic Church, then, to these\nthree alone? Why exclude Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans,\nand the Swiss, the Dutch, and the German Reformed communions? All\nthese have something in common with the Roman, Greek, and\nAnglican communions, and even profess with them to believe the\nApostles' and Nicene creeds. The Methodists have bishops, priests\nor elders, and deacons, as the Anglicans, and adopt the same\narticles of faith. The churches named have presbyters, and so\nhave Presbyterians, the continental Reformed, and the Lutheran\nchurches; some of the Lutheran churches even have bishops. There\nis something in common between these and the churches the author\nclaims to be catholic. Why, then, does he exclude them from the\nlist of communions of which the Catholic Church is composed? Or\nwhy, indeed, exclude any one who professes to hold the Christian\nchurch and the Apostles' and Nicene creeds? And why not reject as\nnon-catholic everything which all these do not agree in holding?\nDoes he not say that _catholic_ means all, not a part, and\nwhy exclude from the _all_ any who acknowledge Christ as\ntheir Lord and Master, and profess to be members of his church?\nThe author has no criterion in the case but his own private\njudgment, prejudice, or caprice. He has no other rule, having\nrejected the apostolic or central see, for interpreting the\n_quod semper, quod ubique, et ab omnibus creditur_ of St.\nVincent of Lerins. The _all_ with us means all those, and\nthose only, who are, and always have been, in communion with the\ncentral or Apostolic See, and obedient to its supreme authority;\nbut Dr. Ewer, who admits no such see, has, and can have, no\nauthority for not including in the _all_, the\n_omnibus_, all who profess to follow Christ or to hold and\npractise the Christian religion. His catholicity is, then, the\ncreature of his own private judgment, prejudice, or caprice; and\nhis catholic church is founded on himself, and is his own\narbitrary construction or creation. This is not the rejection of\nProtestantism, but is rather Protestantism gone to seed.\n\n{511}\n\nThroughout the whole of Dr. Ewer's reasoning, except where he is\nsimply following Catholics in pronouncing and proving\nProtestantism a blunder and a failure, and answerable for the\nrationalism and unbelief in revealed religion now so prevalent\namong scientific, intelligent, clear-headed, and honest-minded\nmen, there is the implied assumption that catholicity precedes\nthe church, and that we are to determine not what is catholic by\nthe church, but the Catholic Church by what we have, without her,\ndetermined to be catholic. This is not a Catholic but a\nProtestant method. We must first find the One Catholic Apostolic\nChurch, and from her learn what is catholic, and who are\ncatholics and who are not. This is the only scientific rule, if\nwe acknowledge a Catholic Church at all.\n\nIf the Roman, Greek, and Anglican churches are no one of them the\nCatholic Church, they can be catholic, that is, be in the\ncatholic organism, only by communing with the organic centre from\nwhich the life, activity, and authority of the organism proceeds,\nin which is the source and centre of the unity and catholicity of\nthe church. But all particular churches in communion with the\norganic centre, and obtaining their life from it, exist _in\nsolido_, and commune with one another. The three churches\nnamed do not commune with one another; they are, as we have seen,\nthree distinct, separate, and independent bodies, and foreigners\nto one another. Then only one of them, if any one of them, can be\na catholic church. The other two must be excluded as\nnon-catholic. What the author has to determine first of all,\nsince he restricts the Catholic Church to the three, is, in which\nof these three is the original, organic, or central cell, or\ncentral see, whence all the others proceed, or from which they\ntake their rise. But instead of doing this, he denies that any\none of the three is the Catholic Church, and contends that it is\nall three in what they hold in common or agree in maintaining.\nThe meaning of this is, that no one of them contains the organic\ncell, that there is no central organic see, as we hold the See of\nPeter to be, and therefore no church organism one and catholic.\nBut this is to deny the Catholic Church, not to assert it. In\nattempting to include in the One Catholic Apostolic Church\nnon-catholic and foreign elements, Dr. Ewer, therefore,\nmanifestly loses the Catholic Church itself.\n\nDr. Ewer, notwithstanding his vigorous onslaught upon\nProtestantism, remains still under the influence of his\nProtestant training, and has not as yet attained to any real\nconception either of unity or of catholicity. Unity is\nindivisible; catholicity is illimitable, or all that is contained\nin the unity; and both are independent of space and time. The\nunity of the church is her original and central organic\nprinciple, or principle of life; the catholicity of the church is\ninseparable from her unity, and consists in the completeness of\nthis organic principle, and in its being always and everywhere\nthe complete and only principle of church life. The unity of the\nfaith is in the fact that it, like the church, has its central\nprinciple out of which all in it grows or germinates, and on\nwhich all in it depends; the catholicity of the faith is in the\nfact that this faith is complete, the whole faith, and is always\nand everywhere believed and taught by the One Catholic Church, is\nalways and everywhere one and the same faith, always and\neverywhere the truth of God. The catholicity of the church\ndepends in no sense on diffusion in space or the number of her\nmembers.\n{512}\nThe church is catholic, not because she is universally diffused\nin space, but because she is the one only church, and includes in\nher organism all that is essential to the church as the church,\nor the mystic body of Christ, to the entire church life for all\nmen and for all times. _Catholic_ means _all_, rather\nthan _universal_, or universal only because it means all;\nand hence the church was as truly catholic on the day of\nPentecost as she is now, or would be were all nations and all men\nincluded in her communion, as the human race, in the order of\ngeneration, was as complete and entire when there was no\nindividual but Adam, as it will be when the last child is born.\nTime has no effect on either the unity or catholicity of the\nchurch; for she is always living in her unity and catholicity, an\never-present church, in herself the same yesterday, and to-day,\nand for ever. She is in time and space, but not of them, nor, in\nher internal organism, affected by the accidents of either. The\nprimitive church, the mediaeval church, and the church of to-day\nare identically the same, and the distinctions these terms imply\nare distinctions only in things externally related to her, not in\nherself. Such must be the church if one and catholic, holy and\napostolic.\n\nThe central life of the church, the source of all the vitality,\nforce, and authority of the organism, of which--to use the\nfigure we have already so many times used--the central cell is\nthe organ, and which gives it all its generative force and\ngoverning power, is Jesus Christ himself, who is the _forma_\nof the church, as the soul is the _forma_ of the body, or\nits organic principle; for the church is the _body_ of\nChrist, and is nothing without him, and if separated from him\nwould instantly die, as does the body when separated from the\nsoul. But we are treating of the church, in which the unity of\nChrist is made manifest in her visible unity, and therefore of\nthe visible, not of the invisible church. That the invisible\nunity might be manifested, St. Cyprian argues, in his _De\nUnitate Ecclesiae_, Christ established a central chair, the\nChair of Peter, whence all might be seen to take its rise from\none. This chair, the visible centre of unity, is to the church\norganism, as we have seen, what the central or organic cell is to\nevery organism or living body in the natural order; but Jesus\nChrist, whom it manifests or represents in the visible order, is\nthe living force and generative power of the central chair, as\nthe soul is of the organic cell of the human organism. So much we\nmust affirm of the _Christian_ church, if we call it, as Dr.\nEwer does, \"an organism.\"\n\nThis organic central cell generates or produces not many\norganisms, but one only. So the Chair of Peter, the central cell\nof the church organism, can generate only one organism. Christ\nhas one body and no more. That only can be the Catholic Church in\nwhich is, as its centre, the Chair of Peter, or, as we have\nbefore said, the organic central see, which may justly be called\nthe Holy See, the Apostolic See, \"the mother and mistress of all\nthe churches,\" as in the living body the original central organic\ncell is the mother and mistress of all the secondary or inferior\ncells generated in the evolution of the organism. Here, again,\ntheology and physiology coincide in principle.\n\nWe may now ask, Does the Greek schismatic church, as we call it,\ncontain this central organic see? Certainly not; for she admits\nno such see, or, if she does, she confesses that she contains it\nnot, and the Roman Church does.\n{513}\nThe Greek schismatic, as we call him, recognizes no church unity\nin the sense we have explained. He recognizes only diocesan,\nmetropolitan, or patriarchal unity. Does the Greek Church, then,\ncommune with this central see? No. For it communes with no see or\nchurch outside of itself. How is it with the Anglican Church? It\ndoes not any more than the Greek Church claim to possess it. It\ndoes not pretend to find it in the see of Canterbury, York,\nDublin, or Armagh, and indeed denies both the necessity and\nexistence of such see. She denounces the Roman see because she\nclaims to be it; and Dr. Ewer tells us, in his reply to Mr.\nAdams, that the Protestant Reformation rendered noble service to\nthe Anglican Church by delivering it from papal tyranny and\noppression. Well, then, does the Anglican Church commune with the\ncentral or organic see, or Chair of Peter? No. For she communes\nwith no see beyond herself. Then she is not the, or even a,\ncatholic church. There remains, then, only the Roman Church,\nwhich is and must be the One Holy Catholic Apostolic Church, if\nsuch church there is; for it can be no other. The reverend\ndoctor's attempt, then, to find a catholic church which is not\nthe Roman Church, or a catholicity which is \"broader and deeper\"\nthan what he, as well as other Protestants, calls \"Romanism,\"\nseems, like Protestantism itself, to have failed.\n\nDr. Ewer would evade the force of this conclusion, which the\ncommon sense of mankind unhesitatingly accepts, by resorting to\nwhat is known as \"the branch theory.\" The Roman, the Greek, and\nthe Anglican churches are not one or another of them exclusively\nthe Catholic Church, but they are catholic churches, because\nbranches of the One Catholic Church. But branches suppose a\ntrunk. Where there is no trunk there are and can be no branches;\nfor the trunk produces the branches, not the branches the trunk.\nWhere, then, is the trunk of which the three churches named are\nbranches, especially since the author says we are not to look\nbeyond them for the Catholic Church? We let him answer in his own\nwords:\n\n \"Permit me to close this part of my discourse by an\n illustration of the Catholic Church. We will take, for the sake\n of simplicity, a tree. For eight feet above the soil its trunk\n stands one and entire. Somewhere along the ninth foot the trunk\n branches into two main limbs. We will call the eastern the\n Greek limb, and the western we will call the Latin. Six feet\n further out on the Latin limb, that is to say, fifteen feet\n from ground, that western limb subdivides into two vast\n branches. The outmost of the two we will call the Anglican\n branch, the other we will call the Roman. These two branches\n and the Greek limb run up to a height of nineteen and a half\n feet from the ground. There they are, the three great boughs,\n each with its foliage, Anglican at the west, Roman in the\n centre, Greek at the east. If now you shield your vision from\n all but the top of the tree, there will appear to you to be\n three disconnected tufts of vegetation; but lo! the foliage and\n the flowers are the same. But remove now the shield from before\n your eyes, and behold in the whole tree a symbol of the\n Catholic Church--one organism from root to summit.\"\n\nThis assumes that the trunk is the primitive undivided church, or\nthe church prior to the separation of the Eastern churches from\nthe jurisdiction of the Roman see. But does that undivided\nchurch, the trunk church, still exist in its integrity? No. For\nif it did, there would be no difficulty. It ceased to exist in\nthe ninth century, and now there is no undivided church. Then\nthat has fallen into the past. Then there is no present living\ntrunk, but branches only. Branches of a trunk that has ceased to\nlive can be only dead branches. The alleged branches communicate\nwith no living root, and have no intercommunion; they therefore\nare not and cannot be one living organism. The author himself\nhalf concedes it, for he continues:\n\n{514}\n\n \"A church that is one like the trunk of that tree for the first\n nine centuries--that the Western subdividing at the fifteenth\n century into Anglican and Roman. As a fact, the unity of the\n organism is not broken; intercommunion between its three parts\n is simply suspended for a time--suspended until that\n differentiation shall take place in God's one church which, as\n Herbert Spencer so admirably shows, is the law of all growth; a\n differentiation which means, in its last issue, not a complete\n sundering, but the eventual unity of multiplexity, the harmony\n of co-ordinate parts. Did it not mix the metaphor somewhat, I\n would go on and complete the illustration by supposing sundry\n branches of this tree to be cut off from time to time and\n inserted into vases of water standing round about the great\n tree. Being without root, those cut longest ago are all dead;\n while only the most recently cut are green with a deceptive\n life, themselves soon to wither and die. These cut branches,\n standing trunkless and rootless about the living tree, would be\n apt symbols of the Protestant sects.\n\n \"We have found, then, what the Catholic Church is.\"\n\nThere can be no suspension of intercommunion of the branches so\nlong as their communion with the root, or organic cell, through\nthe trunk, is not suspended; for through communion with that they\nintercommune. But any interruption of that communion is not only\nthe suspension, but the extinction of intercommunion. The\nrestoration of intercommunion once extinct cannot be affected\nexcept by a living reunion of each with the root or organic cell\nof the organism. Probably, then, the author has been too hasty in\nexclaiming, \"We have found what the Catholic Church is.\" He seems\nto us to have found neither unity nor catholicity.\n\nDr. Ewer seems to forget that the church never has been and never\ncan be divided. Has not he himself said that she is one, and does\nhe need to be told that one is indivisible, or that its division\nwould be its death? The tree with successive branches which he\nadduces in illustration is, no doubt, a living organism; but it\ncan illustrate only the unity and catholicity of the central and\nruling see, and the particular churches holding from it. Branch\nchurches are admissible only as particular churches produced by\nand dependent on the organic centre, or apostolic see, mother and\nmistress of all the churches of the organism. But we have already\nshown that the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican churches are\nnot particular churches, for they are independent bodies,\nsubordinate to or dependent on no organic centre which each has\nnot in itself. As the Catholic Church is one, not three, and as\nwe have shown that it is neither the separated Greek Church nor\nthe Anglican, it must be the Roman See and its dependent\nchurches, in which is the primitive, original, productive, and\ncreative life of the church, since, as we have seen, it can be no\nother. We have refuted the \"branch theory\" in refuting the\nauthor's assumption that the Roman, the Greek, and the Anglican\nchurches hold from and are subordinate to the one universal\nchurch, which, as independent of them, has no existence.\n\nThe failure of the author to find the Catholic Church is due to\nthe fact that, from first to last, though he calls the church\none, he really recognizes no church unity, since he recognizes no\nvisible centre of unity whence emanates all her life, activity,\nand authority. Till the ninth century the East and West were\nunited, and the church was one; but it had no centre of unity at\nRome any more than at Antioch, at Alexandria, or Constantinople,\nin the successor of St. Peter in the See of Rome any more than in\nany other patriarch or bishop.\n{515}\nHence no church could be convicted of schism, unless its bishop\nrefused to commune with another, or another refused to commune\nwith him; but which was the schismatic was indeterminable, unless\nthe whole church should come together in General Council and\nsettle the question by vote. This is the author's theory of\nunity, a unity which has no visible centre. It is the common\nAnglican theory, and appears to some extent to be that of the\nschismatical Greeks. But this theory makes the unity of the\nchurch a mere collective federative unity, or an aggregation of\nparts, which is simply no unity at all, and at best only a union.\nThe unity of the church implies that all in the church proceeds\nfrom unity, and is generated, upheld, and controlled by it. The\nunity is the origin of the whole organism, and what does not\nproceed from it or grow out of it is abnormal--a tumor, or an\nexcrescence to be exscinded. Hence the impossibility of arriving\nat the unity of the church by aggregating the parts which have\nlost it or have it not. It is impossible to assert the unity of\nthe church without asserting a central see, and its bishop as its\nvisible manifestation. There is, we repeat, no organism without\nthe central cell, and no visible organism without a visible\ncentre of unity. The author would do well to study anew the\ntreatise _De Unitate Ecclesiae_ of St. Cyprian, to which we\nhave already referred.\n\nThere is and can be no visible unity of the church without a\ncentral see, the centre and origin of unity, life, and authority;\nand when you have found that see, you have found the Catholic\nChurch, but not till then. Every see, or particular or local\nchurch in communion with that see; and dependent on it, is in the\nunity of the church and catholic; and every one not in communion\nwith it is out of unity and not catholic, nor any part of the\nCatholic body. Admitting that there is the Catholic Church, the\nonly question to be settled is, Which is that See? Reduced to\nthis point, the controversy is virtually ended. There is and\nnever has been but one claimant. Rome has always claimed it, and\nnobody in the world has ever pretended or pretends that it is any\nother. Constantinople and Canterbury have disputed the supremacy\nover the whole church of its pontiff; but neither claims nor ever\nhas claimed to be itself the central organic see, the visible\ncentre of the church organism, and organ of its life and\nauthority.\n\nWith no recognized central and ruling see with which all, in\norder to be in unity, must commune, and with only particular, or\nrather independent and isolated, churches in existence, without\nany intercommunion one with another, and all of which, as\nseparate and independent churches, have failed, how can those\nseveral branches, which are only trunkless, be restored, \"unity\nevolved from multiplexity,\" and intercommunion re-established? If\nthere is an organic see, the centre of unity, mother and mistress\nof all the churches, particular churches that have failed can\neasily be restored if they wish. They have only to abjure their\nschism or heresy, be reconciled with that see, submit to its\nauthority, and receive its teaching. They are thus reincorporated\nby the mercy of God into the church organism, and participate in\nits unity and the life that flows from it. But on the author's\nchurch theory, we can see no possible way in which the separate\nbodies can be restored to the unity of the church.\n{516}\nUnity cannot be constructed or reconstructed from multiplicity;\nfor there can be no multiplicity where there is no unity.\nMultiplicity depends on unity, which creates or generates and\nsustains it. Suppose we grant for the moment the Catholic Church\nis no one of the three churches, yet is not separable from or\nindependent of them, and, in fact, underlies them, but inorganic,\nor having only these for its organs. How shall they be brought\ninto organic unity? By a General Council? Where is the authority\nto convoke it, to determine who may or who may not sit in it, and\nto confirm its acts? You say, Summon all the bishops of the\nRoman, the Greek, and the Anglican bodies. But who has authority\nto summon them, and why summon these and no others? Who shall\nsay? It is the same question we have had up before. Why extend or\nwhy confine the Catholic Church to the three churches named?\nWhere there is no recognized centre of authority, that is to say,\nno recognized authority, there is authority to admit or to\nexclude. It is necessary that authority define which is the\nCatholic Church, before you can say what organizations it\nincludes or excludes, or what prelates or ministers have the\nright to be summoned as Catholic prelates or ministers, and what\nnot.\n\nA nation disorganized, as the author assumes the church now is,\nthough he trusts only temporarily, can reorganize itself; for the\npolitical sovereignty resides always in the nation, or, as we\nsay, in modern times, in the people. The people, as the nation,\npossess, under God, or rather from him, the sovereign power to\ngovern themselves, which they can neither alienate nor be\ndeprived of so long as they exist as an independent nation or\nsovereign political community. When the old government which, as\nlegal, held from them, is broken up or dissolved, they have the\ninherent right to come together in such way as they choose or\ncan, and reconstitute government or power in such manner and vest\nit in such hands as they judge best. But the church disorganized\ncannot reorganize itself; for the organic power does not vest in\nthe church as the faithful or the Christian people. Authority in\nthe church is not created, constituted, or delegated by the\nChristian people, nor does it in any sense hold from them. Church\npower or authority comes immediately from God to the central see,\nand from that see radiates through the whole body; for the author\nagrees with us that the church is an organism. Hence we recognize\nthe Council of Constance as a General Council only after it was\nconvoked by Gregory XII., who was, in our judgment, the true\nBishop of the Apostolic See, and hold legal only the acts\nconfirmed by Martin V. The disorganization of the church is,\nthen, its dissolution or death. It has no power to raise itself\nfrom the dead. If the central see could really fail, the whole\norganism would fail. The church is indefectible through the\nindefectibility of the Holy See, and that is indefectible because\nit is Peter's See, and our Lord promised Peter that, however\nSatan might try him, his faith should not fail: \"Satan has\ndesired to sift thee as wheat; but I have prayed the Father that\nthy faith fail not.\" The prayer of Christ cannot be unanswered,\nand is a promise. The attacks on the Holy See have been violent\nand continual, but they have never been successful. Our Lord's\nprayer has been effective, and Peter's faith has never failed. No\ndoubt there is the full authority to teach and to govern in the\nchurch; but this authority is not derived from the faithful nor\ndistributed equally among them, but resides primarily and in its\nplenitude in the Holy See, and therefore in the bishop of that\nsee, or the pope, Peter's successor, in whom Peter lives and\ncontinues to teach and govern the whole church.\n{517}\nAll Catholic bishops depend on him, and receive from him their\njurisdiction, and by authority from God through him govern their\nrespective dioceses. The church is papal in its essential\nconstitution, not simply episcopal; for we have seen that it is\nan organism, and can be an organism only as proceeding from an\norganic centre, or central see, on which its unity and\ncatholicity depend. The Apostolic See cannot be separated from\nthe _Sedens_; for without him it is empty, incapable of\nthinking, speaking, or acting. It is, then, it seems to us, as\nutterly impossible to assert the church as really one and\ncatholic, without asserting the pope, or supreme pastor, as it\nwould be to assert an organism without asserting a central\norganic cell. The failure of the pope would be the failure of the\nwhole church organism, with no power of reorganization or\nreconstruction left--an important point in which the church and\nthe nation differ. The overlooking of this point of difference is\nthe reason why our catholicizing Anglicans suppose that the\nchurch, though disorganized, is able to reorganize herself. The\nreorganized church, if effected, would be a human organization,\nnot a divine organism as created by our Lord himself. But the\nchurch, as we have seen, has never been disorganized, and could\nnot be without ceasing to exist, and cease to exist it cannot, if\ncatholic. The organic centre from which the whole organism is\nevolved and directed has remained at Rome ever since Peter\ntransferred thither his chair from Antioch, and the particular\nchurches holding from it and continuing subject to it are\nintegral elements of the catholic organism, which is as perfect,\nas complete, and as entire as it was when the Oriental churches\nacknowledged and submitted to the supremacy of the successor of\nPeter, or when the church in England was in full communion with\nthe Apostolic See of Rome. The separation of these from the Roman\ncommunion, though it destroyed their unity and catholicity, did\nnot break the unity and catholicity of the organism; it only\nplaced them outside of that organism, and cut them off from the\ncentral see, the source of all organic church life. The revolt of\nthe Anglo-American Colonies from Great Britain, in 1776, and the\nDeclaration of their Independence of the mother-country, did not\nbreak her unity or authority as a nation, and indeed did not even\ndeprive her of any of her rights over them, though it enfeebled\nher power to govern them, till she herself acknowledged them to\nbe independent states.\n\nThe author seems to suppose that the Greeks and Anglicans, in\nseparating from Rome, broke the unity of the church, and carried\naway with them each a portion of her catholicity, so that there\nnow can be no One Catholic Church existing in organic unity and\ncatholicity, save in reminiscence and _in potentia_, unless\nthese two bodies are reunited with Rome in one and the same\ncommunion. But the Greeks and Anglicans had both for centuries\nrecognized the authority of the Apostolic See, as the centre of\nunity and source of jurisdiction. When the Greeks separated from\nthat see and refused to obey it, they took from it neither its\norganic unity nor its catholicity; they only cut themselves off\nand deprived themselves of both. The same may be said of\nAnglicans in separating from Rome and declaring themselves\nindependent.\n{518}\nThey deprived themselves of unity and catholicity, but left the\noriginal church organism in all its integrity, and only placed\nthemselves outside of it. The separation in both cases deprived\nthe church of a portion of her population, and diminished her\nexternal power and grandeur, but took away none of her rights and\nprerogatives, and in no respect impaired, as we have already\nsaid, the unity or catholicity of her internal organism. All that\ncan be said is that the separated Oriental churches and\nAnglicans, not the church, have lost unity and catholicity, and\nhave ceased to be Catholics, even when agreeing with the church\nin her dogmas and her external rites and ceremonies.\n\nThere is, then, on the side of the church, no broken unity to be\nhealed, or lost catholicity to be restored. If the Oriental\nchurches wish to regain unity and catholicity, all they have to\ndo is to submit to the jurisdiction of the Apostolic See, and\nrenew their communion with the mother and mistress of all the\nchurches. Not having lost their church organization, and having\nretained valid orders or the priesthood and the august sacrifice,\nthey can return in their corporate capacity. There is in their\ncase only a schism to be healed. The Anglicans and Episcopalians\nstand on a different footing; for they have not even so much as a\nschismatic church, since the Episcopalians hold from the\nAnglicans, and the Anglicans from the state. They have no orders,\nno priesthood, no sacrifice, no sacraments--except baptism, and\neven pagans can administer that--no church character at all, if\nwe look at the facts in the case, and therefore, like all\nProtestants, can be admitted to the unity of the church only on\nindividual profession and submission. There is much for those out\nof unity to do to recover it and to effect the union in the\nCatholic communion of all who profess to be Christians, but\nnothing to render the church herself one and catholic. Her unity\nand catholicity are already established and unalterable, and so\nare the terms of communion and the conditions of church life. No\ngrand combination, then, is needed to restore a divided and\ndisorganized church.\n\nBut if the church were disorganized and a restoration needed, no\npossible combination of the several disorganized parts would or\ncould effect it. The disorganization could not take place without\nthe loss by the whole organism of the organic centre, and that,\nonce lost, can be recovered only by an original creation, by our\nLord, of a new church organism, which, even if it were done,\nwould not restore us the Catholic Church; for it would not be a\nchurch existing uninterruptedly from the beginning, and there\nwould be a time since the Incarnation when it did not subsist,\nand when there was no church. The author assumes that unity may\nbe evolved from \"multiplexity,\" which is Protestant, not Catholic\nphilosophy; without unity there can be, as we have said, no\nmultiplicity, as without the universal there can be no\nparticulars. The universal precedes the particulars and generates\nthem, and when it goes they go with it. Unity precedes\nmultiplicity, and produces, sustains, and directs it. This is\nimplied in every argument used, or that can be used, by\nphilosophers and theologians, to prove the existence of God and\nhis providence. Atheism results from the assumption that\nmultiplicity may exist by itself, independently of unity;\npantheism, from the assumption that unity is a dead, abstract\nunity, like that of the old Eleatics, not a concrete, living, and\neffective unity, and the denial that unity creates multiplicity.\n{519}\nPhysiology is refuting both by its discoveries, confirming what\nhas always been affirmed in principle by traditional science, the\nfact that there is no organism or living body, in either the\nanimal or vegetable world, without the original central cell,\nborn of ancestors, which creates or generates and directs all the\nvital phenomena, normal or abnormal, of the organism, as has\nalready been stated, thus placing science and the teaching of the\nchurch in harmony.\n\nDr. Ewer probably does not in his own mind absolutely deny the\npresent unity on which depends the catholicity of the church; but\nhe supposes it is in some way involved in multiplicity, so that\nit needs not to be created, but to be evoked from the existing\n\"multiplexity\" which now obscures it and prevents its\neffectiveness. But this we have shown is not and cannot be the\ncase, because the unity not only produces, but _directs_ or\n_governs_ the manifold phenomena of the church, and must\ntherefore be always distinct from and independent of them. Also,\nbecause so long as unity and catholicity remain, no\ndisorganization or confusion requiring their evolution can take\nplace, except in the parts exuded or thrown off by the organism,\nsevered or exscinded from it, that is, only in what is outside of\nthe One Catholic Church, and forming no part of the catholic\nbody. That schismatics and heretics lack unity and catholicity,\nis, of course, true; but they cannot obtain either by an\nevolution from such organization as they may have retained when\nthe separation took place, or may have subsequently formed for\nthemselves, but must do it, if at all, by a return to the organic\ncentre, where both are and have never ceased to be, on the terms\nand conditions the Holy See prescribes.\n\nDr. Ewer maintains that the Catholic Church is restricted to the\nRoman, Greek, and Anglican Churches, and consists in what these\nhave in common or agree in holding. These, he maintains, have all\nfailed, have taught and still teach grievous errors, set up false\nclaims, and one or more of them at least have fallen into\nsuperstitious practices; yet he contends that the universal\nchurch has not failed. But as the universal church has no organic\nexistence independent of these, has no organs of speech or\naction, no personality but in them, how, if he is right in his\ntheory, can he maintain that the whole church has not failed? If\nhe held that the unity and catholicity of the church were in the\ncentral or organic see, he might hold that particular churches\nhave failed, and that the One Catholic Church has not failed.\nThen he could assert, as we do, that the organism remains, acts,\nteaches, and governs through its own infallible organs, in its\nown individuality, or the supreme pontiff who is its personality\nor person. But on his theory, the failure of each of the three\nparts which comprise the whole church, it seems to us, must carry\nwith it the failure of the whole.\n\nDr. Ewer's difficulty would seem to grow out of his wish to be a\nCatholic and remain in the Anglican or Episcopalian communion in\nwhich he is a minister, or to return from Protestantism to\nCatholicity without any change of position. This would be\npossible, if holding, on private judgment, Catholic dogmas, and\nobserving, on no authority, Catholic forms of worship,\nconstituted one a member of the Catholic Church. But he should\nunderstand that what he wishes is impracticable, and that all his\nefforts are labor lost.\n{520}\nSo long as a man is in a communion separated from the present\nactual living unity of the church, he can become a Catholic only\nby leaving it, or by its corporate return to the Holy See and\nsubmission to the supreme pontiff.\n\nA corporate return is practicable in the case of the Eastern\nchurches; but even in them the individual who is personally aware\nof the schismatic character of his church should abandon it for\nunity at once without waiting for its corporate return; but in\nthe case of Anglicans and Episcopalians, as in the case of all\nProtestant communions, the return must be individual and\npersonal.\n\nWe are surprised at Dr. Ewer's statement that the Greek Church\nhas no cultus of St. Mary ever-Virgin, as we are that many\nAnglicans, like Dr. Pusey, who object to the Roman Church on\naccount of that cultus, should seek communion with the schismatic\nGreeks, with whom that cultus is pushed to an extreme far beyond\nanything in the Latin Church. The truth is, that all that offends\nProtestants in the Church of Rome, except the papacy, exists in\neven a more offensive form in the Greek schismatic Church. The\nschismatic Greek bishops exercise over their flocks a tyranny\nwhich is impracticable in the Roman Church, where the papal\nauthority restricts that of bishops and tempers their\nadministration of their dioceses.\n\nBut it is time to bring our remarks to a close. We are unable to\nrecognize the Catholicity we profess in that proposed by Dr.\nEwer. The one holy catholic apostolic church he sets forth does\nnot appear to us to be the church of the fathers, nor the one of\nwhich we are an affectionate if an unworthy son. In our judgment,\nDr. Ewer is still in the Protestant family, and following private\njudgment as his rule, though denouncing it. He has not grasped\nthe central, or, as Dr. Channing would say, the \"seminal\"\nprinciple of the Catholic Church. Yet he seems to be well\ndisposed, and to be seeking it, and has made large strides toward\nit. We think his discourses are not only brilliant, bold, and\nenergetic, but fitted to have great influence in turning the\npublic mind toward the Catholic Church. We have given our reasons\nwhy we do not admit that he has as yet found that church; but\nstill we think his discourses will help many to find it, though\nhe himself may not find it. He has, as yet, strong prejudices\nagainst the Church of Rome, and is undeniably anti-papal. But\nstill there can be no doubt that he would like to feel himself a\nCatholic, and have done once for all with Protestantism. Dr. Ewer\nstands not alone. There are large numbers in his communion, and\nother Protestant communions, who think and feel as he does, who,\nfrom the top of Mount Pisgah, have obtained--if not the clear\nvision Moses had--at least some glimpses, more or less confused,\nof the promised land, and are attracted and charmed by what they\nsee of it. We have a feeling of respectful tenderness toward\nthese men, and of great sympathy with their trials and struggles.\nWhile we must tell them the truth in firm and manly tones, treat\nthem as men, not as children, we would, on no account, say or do\nanything to wound their susceptibilities, or to create an\nimpression that we do not take a deep and lively interest in\ntheir efforts to arrive at Catholicity. The spirit is working in\nthem to bring them to light and life. They are not against us,\nand to some extent are with us. We would, for their sakes, they\nwere wholly with us, and we never cease to pray God that they may\nfind the haven of security and rest it has pleased him that we\nshould find for ourselves.\n{521}\nWe once were one of their number, thought and felt with them,\nstruggled with them, and we can have for them only words of\nencouragement and hope. In what we have said we have had only the\ndesire to assist them to find and understand the One Holy\nCatholic Apostolic Church.\n\n ----------\n\n The Evening Primrose.\n\n Of twilight and fresh dews,\n Most odorous flower, thou art the child;\n Adorning evening's pensive hues\n With splendors mild.\n\n A vesper acolyte,\n Born, but for this one night,\n To swing thy golden censer of perfume,\n While stars the tranquil firmament illume,\n For heaven's delight.\n\n Thy term of service, fleet,\n Creative wish doth meet;\n A swift existence; but which this rare grace\n Of ceaseless worship, filling life's brief space,\n Crowns as complete.\n\n Thy blissful vigil keep,\n Rapt flower, while others sleep:\n Adoring angels claim thee from above\n A dear companion in their task of love;\n And I would fain present,\n With worshipful intent,\n Thy dewy blossoms on my evening shrine;\n A contrite homage; sighing to repair,\n With the accepted incense of thy prayer,\n For sloth like mine.\n\n ----------\n\n{522}\n\n Heremore-Brandon; Or,\n The Fortunes Of A Newsboy.\n\n\n \"Howe'er it be, it seems to me\n 'Tis only noble to be good;\n Kind hearts are more than coronets,\n And simple faith than Norman blood.\"\n\n\n Chapter I.\n\nFour little boys: two of them had soft fair hair, and were\ndressed in the finest cloth; the other two had very bushy heads,\nand were dressed in whatever they could get. It was early\nChristmas morning, and the two rich boys were sitting by the\nwindow of a handsome brown-stone house, and they had each a\nstocking plump full of dainties; the two poor boys were calling\nthe morning papers on the stone-cold sidewalk, and if they had\nany stockings at all, you may be very sure they were plump full\nof holes.\n\n\"An't he funny,\" remarked the smaller of the two in the house,\nlooking at the larger of the two in the street; \"an't he\n_too_ funny!\" And between laughing and eating, little Fred\ncame near choking himself. \"See his old coat, Josie, it trails\nlike Aunt Ellie's blue dress! And such a queer old hat; don't it\nmake you laugh, Josie?\"\n\n\"I have seen so many of 'em,\" explained Josie.\n\n\"What are you laughing at, Fred,\" asked their sister Mary, coming\nup to them.\n\n\"Those newsboys,\" he answered, and imitated their \"Times, 'Erald,\nTribune! Here's the 'Erald, Times, Tribune!\" so perfectly that\ntheir father thought it was a real newsboy calling, and cried out\nto them from another room to \"hurry up and bring a Herald,\" at\nwhich command the children rushed eagerly into the hall, and\ntugged with their united strength to open the doors, each anxious\nto be the first to speak to the odd-looking newsboys, and also to\nbe the fortunate one to take the paper to their father. In the\nmean time, the two newsboys had not been unmindful of the faces\nbehind the plated window.\n\n\"I say, Jim,\" said the big boy, who was about twelve or thirteen\nyears old, \"did you ever see the beat of that young 'un there?\nDon't you choke yerself, youngster, f'fear you'd cheat a friend\nfrom doing that same when you're growed up.--Ere's the 'Erald!\nTribune! Times!--George! Jim, I wish to thunder there'd some new\npapers come up. An't yer tired allers a hollerin' out them same\nold tunes?--Times! 'Erald! Tribune!--How d'ye s'pose a feller'd\nfeel to wake up some of these yere mornin's in one o' them big\nhouses?\"\n\n\"Heerd tell of stranger things 'n that, Dick,\" replied Jim, who\nread the weekly papers. \"'Turn again, Whittington, Lord-Mayor of\nLondon,' as the cat said! Turned out true, too.\"\n\n\"_You'd_ better get a cat, Jim, you're such a stunnin'\nfeller; shouldn't wonder if you'd turn out alderman some of these\ndays!\" At which, for no apparent reason, Dick laughed until every\nrag was fluttering.\n\n\"They wants a paper; better 'tend to yer business,\" answered Jim,\nat which the other newsboy instantly grew grave, and, shuffling\nhis old shoes across the street, mounted the steps where the\nchildren were waiting and calling for him.\n\n{523}\n\n\"I want a New York Herald,\" said Fred very grandly.\n\n\"Han't got no 'Eralds,\" answered the newsboy.\n\nFred rushed into the house saying, \"His Heralds are all gone.\"\n\n\"Tribune, then, and don't keep the door open,\" instructed the\nrough voice from some invisible spot. Mary shut the door all but\na little crack. \"Papa wanted a Herald,\" she said; \"you ought to\nhave one when my papa wants it.\"\n\n\"Thought I had, but couldn't help it; 'Erald's got a great speech\nto-day, and I've sold 'em all.\"\n\n\"Do you sell papers every day?\" Mary asked.\n\nThe bushy head made a sort of bow, as the poor newsboy looked at\nthe fair-haired little girl on the stoop, who condescended to\nquestion _him_.\n\n\"Yes, miss,\" he answered, \"since ever I wasn't bigger'n a\ngrasshopper.\"\n\n\"An't he funny?\" said Fred.\n\n\"Don't you get tired?\" asked Mary.\n\n\"Well, I can't say I doesn't, 'specially sometimes.\"\n\n\"An't you glad it's Christmas?\" Josie asked, as questions seemed\nthe fashion.\n\n\"I kinder am,\" replied the newsboy.\n\n\"Did you have many presents?\" questioned Mary.\n\n\"Me? Bless you, who'd give 'em to me, miss?\"\n\n\"Didn't you hang up your stocking last night?\" Fred asked.\n\nThe newsboy seemed much amused at the question; for it was plain\nthat he could hardly keep from laughing right out.\n\n\"Well, no, I didn't,\" he answered. \"Don't think things would\nstick in one long, if I did!\"\n\n\"Do you put your money in a savings bank? By and by you'd have\nenough to build a house maybe, if you were careful,\" said Josie.\n\n\"Jim and me likes takin' it out in eatin' best,\" answered Dick.\n\n\"Why don't you bring me that paper?\" cried their father's voice.\nAnd the two boys ran hastily into the house.\n\n\"You may have my candy,\" said Mary in a stately way. \"I can have\nplenty more.\" And she put her store of dainty French candy into\nthe boy's hand, and, while he was still looking at her in\namazement, followed her brothers into the house and shut the\ndoor.\n\n\"Just you pinch me, Jim,\" Dick said, joining his companion.\n\"Drive in hearty, now. An't I asleep?\"\n\n\"Well, I dunno; what yer got there?\"\n\n\"She give it to me.\"\n\n\"Who's that?\"\n\n\"Her on the steps; didn't you see her?\"\n\n\"You tell that to the marines! Guess you took it.\"\n\n\"No, I didn't,\" Dick said indignantly. \"I never took nothin' as\nwarn't mine yet.\"\n\n\"Let's have a look,\" said Jem, reaching out his hand for the\npackage; but Dick would not let him touch it. \"I'm going to keep\nit always to remember her,\" he said.\n\n\"Guess you want ter eat it yerself,\" Jem said. \"I wouldn't be so\nmean.\"\n\n\"I an't gen'rally called mean,\" Dick answered with great dignity.\n\n\"Don't you wonder, Jim,\" said Dick, as they made friends and\npassed on--\"don't it seem curious how some folks is rich and\npurty like them there, and others is poor and ugly like me and\nyou, Jim?\"\n\n\"George! speak for yerself, if ye like. Guess I'd pass in a\ncrowd, if I'd the fine fixin's!\"\n\n{524}\n\n\"S'posin' me and you had dandified coats and yeller gloves, and\nthe fixin's to match, s'pose anybody'd know we was newsboys?\"\nDick asked thoughtfully.\n\n\"I _rayther_ think,\" said Jim, \"we'd be a deal sight\nhandsomer'n some of them chaps as has 'em now.\"\n\n\"Let's save our money and try it, Jim.\"\n\n\"'Nuff said,\" answered Jim, laughing. And the newsboys in their\nqueer garments, and with their light hearts, passed out of sight\nof Mr. Brandon's brown-stone house and fair-haired children.\n\nBut not out of all remembrance. The children had a party that\nChristmas afternoon; and when they were tired of romping, and\nwere seated around the room, the girls playing with their dolls;\nthe Catholic ones telling the others in low voices about the\nflowers and lights, and the wonderful manger which they had seen\nat Mass that morning; and the boys eagerly listening to the\nstories of faraway lands, which one of the older people was\ntelling, little Mary knelt in an arm-chair, and looked out of the\nwindow at the people hurrying through the driving rain and snow,\nand at the street-lamps glaring through the wet and cold. Her\nkind little heart had been very light, and a strange joyousness\nhad surrounded her all day, making her more gentle than ever, so\nthat she had not spoken one hasty word, or once hesitated to take\nthe lowest part in any of the plays. Though she did not know it,\nthe little infant Jesus had smiled on her that morning when she\nwas kind to the poor, homeless newsboy; and now she\nunderstood--for charity had enlarged her mind--more distinctly\nthan she ever had before, that there were many cold and desolate\nchildren for whom there were no earthly glad tidings that day,\nyet who were as much God's own as the little ones grouped around\nher father's pleasant parlors. Then, just as she did the best she\ncould, and prayed in her heart for the children of the poor, she\nthought she saw the newsboy to whom she had spoken in the morning\nstanding close to the railing by the window; but before she could\nbe sure of it, the servant lighted the gas; she heard the\nchildren calling her for a new game, and she ran lightly away.\nBut there was one crouched in the cold outside, who wondered at\nthe sudden light and glow within; and as the bewildered newsboy\nsaw her dancing past the lighted windows, it seemed to him that\nit was not so far, after all, to the heaven and the angels of\nwhom he had heard; for the \"glad tidings\" had come to Dick, even\nDick, and they woke up the good, the will to do right, which is\nin every heart, and which did not sleep again in him, even when\nthe little, uncared-for, outcast head rested on the stone steps\nthat Christmas night.\n\n\n\n Chapter II.\n\nVery little idea had poor Dick of right or wrong. No fond mother\ntook him to her heart when he was a toddling wee one, just big\nenough to half understand, and between her kisses told him of\nangels and saints, of heroes and martyrs, and of that Queen\nMother up in heaven, dearer than them all, who never forgot those\nwho once had loved her, and of the beautiful world with its\nflowers and fruits, its great rivers and high mountains, its\ndelicious green and its glorious blue, which a good Father had\ngiven to men for their enjoyment. No loving sister, with bright\neyes and tender voice, tossed him in her strong young arms, and\nsang to him how knights and warriors, the great and good of\nearth, and loved of heaven, had all been children once like him,\nonly never half so sweet and dear.\n{525}\nNo noble father, true in the midst of trials, ever watched with\nanxious care that those little feet should walk only in the\nstraight and narrow path. So it was a hard thing for poor Dick,\nwhen he rubbed his brown hands through his bushy, uncombed hair\nthe next morning, and pushed the worn old hat over his still\nsleepy eyes, to know just what to do to find the temple of\nFortune. At times, though, he had followed the crowd of noisy\nboys and girls whom you may see around the doors of any Catholic\nchurch at about nine o'clock on Sunday mornings, and had listened\nwith a critical air, and slightly supercilious, from some dark\ncorner near the door, to the talking and the prayers which he did\nnot wholly understand, but portions of which he did once or twice\ntake into his \"inner consciousness\" and fully approve. In some\nway, he then seemed to feel that which made him less rough in all\nhis answers, readier in all his responses to the call for papers,\nnot always gently called for; and, though he knew not why, there\nwere fewer wicked words on his lips that day than for many a day\nbefore.\n\nIt happened that he kept his eyes open and grew thoughtful, and\ndid not forget his wish to be better; so that, from being a\nnewsboy, he became an errand-boy in a book-store, where he\nlearned to be honest and to tell the truth, which was a rapid\nadvance in his education; for you know it is more than some\npeople have learned who have lived to be six times Dick's age.\nSometimes a little lady came to that very store to choose her\npicture-books and Christmas stories; and it was his place to open\nthe door for her; or perhaps some one would call out, \"Dick, a\nchair for this lady,\" and then he was as happy as a prince.\nSometimes he would be sent home with her purchases, and mounted\nthe steps, entered her father's house, and always felt \"good\"\nagain; for always the same picture of a little girl in blue, with\nfair hair, and her hands full of dainty French candy, and a\nragged newsboy, dirty and amazed, would be there before him.\n\nChristmas had come and gone more than once, and it was coming\nagain, when Dick turned up the gas in a mere closet of a room\nvery high up in a dingy boarding-house, and made a ghost of a\nfire in an old rusty stove. It wouldn't seem to us a very\nenlivening prospect; for the room was but slightly furnished, and\nthe stove smoked, while the wind beat at the not overclean\nwindows, on which there were no curtains to shut out the dark and\ncold. But Dick seemed to think it something very luxurious; for\nhe rubbed his hands before the blue apology for a flame, and sat\ndown on the broken wooden stool, with as much zest as that with\nwhich I have seen grand people sink into a great arm-chair after\na walk.\n\n\"Christmas eve again,\" he said to the fire, for it was his only\ncompanion. \"Let me look at you, Mr. Coals, and see what pictures\nyou have for me to-night. How many nights, worse nights than\nthis, I have been glad to crouch under an old shed, or in some\nalley, and now to think, thanks to the good God, I have a fire of\nmy own! Poor little bare feet on the icy pavement to-night, I\nwish I had you round my jolly old stove. When I am rich, I will!\"\nThen he laughed at the idea. \"But I won't wait until I am rich,\nor I would never deserve to have the chance.\"\n\n\"How are you, Dick?\" said a cheery voice, though deep and rough,\nat the door. And a man came into the room, which either his\nfigure, or his coat, or his voice, or the flute under his arm,\nseemed to fill to such an extent that the very corners were\ncrowded.\n\n{526}\n\n\"How are you, Dick? It's blowing a hurricane outside, and you're\nas cold as Greenland here. It may do for you, but not for me; old\nblood is thin, my boy, old blood is thin.\" At which Dick laughed\nheartily, while putting more coal on the fire; for Carl Stoffs\nwas in the prime of life, hale and hearty, weighing at least two\nhundred pounds, I am sure, and with a round face, very red, but\nalso very solemn, for Carl Stoffs was a German every inch of him.\nThe stove grew very red also under his vigorous hands; but\nwhether from anger or by reflection I will not attempt to say.\n\"And now,\" he said, seating himself on the wooden chair, Dick\nhaving given it up to his guest, while he occupied a box\ninstead--\"and now, how are you, boy? Ready for merry Christmas,\neh? You'll come to us to-morrow, so says my wife. In America, you\nall do mind your wives; mine tells me to bring you.\"\n\n\"Then I must, I know,\" Dick said, looking at the other, who was\nnear three times his size. \"I would have a poor chance in\nopposing you!\" But Carl Stoffs knew well how gratefully the\nfriendless boy accepted the thoughtful invitation.\n\n\"Now, shall we have some music,\" said he, as he drew out his\nflute, and, without waiting an answer, put it to his mouth, and\nbrought forth such rich, full tones from the instrument that\nDick, as he stared at the now bright fire, seemed to be in a land\nof enchantment.\n\n\"You are the only man, from the queen of England down, whom I\nreally envy,\" said Dick, in one of the pauses. \"You can have\nmusic whenever you wish it; I am only a beggar, grateful for\nevery note thrown in my way. Were you out, last night?\"\n\n\"Yes, all night in Fourteenth street, at the rich Brandons. Madam\nis very gay, this winter.\"\n\n\"I wish I were a musician,\" said Dick. \"It must be jolly to see\nall the dancing and the bright dresses!\"\n\n\"And the pretty ladies, eh? who don't mind you no more than if\nyou were a stick or a stone. Indeed, my boy, you'd soon get tired\nof it; it seems so grand at first, the beautiful picture all in\nmotion; but your eyes--they ache after a little. Too much light,\nmy boy, too much light.\" And the musician went long journeys up\nand down his wonderful flute before he spoke again. \"They'll go\nmusic-mad over some fool at the piano; but you play until your\nown music makes you wild, and never one thinks or cares about\nyou. Last night, I played only for one. She was always dancing,\nand she seemed to go on the wings of the music just as it said to\nher _go_. I was not tired last night.\"\n\nAwaiting no answer, he turned again to his flute, and all through\nthe dingy, crowded house rang a joyous \"_Gloria in\nexcelsis_.\" Rough captives of labor heard it, and answered to\nit, knowing well the glad tidings, the most glorious ever sung,\nand yet sung to kings and shepherds alike. The old sinners heard\nit, and thought of the strange days when even they were young and\ninnocent.\n\n\"Finis,\" cried the German, rising slowly, and putting on his\nshaggy overcoat. \"I promised my wife that I would be home at\nnine, and, as do all the people here, I mind my wife; but it is\none inconvenient thing. You will come to us after Mass,\nto-morrow?\"\n\n\"You are too good to me. When I am rich, perhaps I shall know how\nto thank you.\"\n\n{527}\n\n\"You should think yourself rich now. You are young; there is no\nriches like that.\"\n\n\"I wish I were older, though,\" sighed Dick.\n\n\"Never say that, never, never. The poorest youth is better than\nthe richest age,\" said the German earnestly. I shouldn't wonder\nif Mr. Stoffs had just found his first gray hair, and was\nspeaking under its influence. At all events, he did not convince\nDick, who said, with equal earnestness and more quickness:\n\n\"I must say it: every day seems too long, every hour goes too\nslowly, until I can get at my life's work. This waiting for it\nkills me.\"\n\n\"My friend, do you call this waiting?\" laughed the German. \"Was\nit waiting and doing nothing that changed you from--\"\n\n\"But think,\" interrupted Dick, \"of what ought to have-been. Some\nday--some day I will get my hand to the plough, you'll see! At\nleast,\" a little ashamed of the seeming conceit, \"I hope you\nwill.\"\n\n\"And what makes you care?\"\n\n\"I think it's born in us all to like to be active--to be doing\nsomething. Indeed, it's about the only legacy my poor parents\nleft me. It may be, for I know nothing of them, that they were\njust the same as other people, out of whom bitter poverty has\ntaken all pride and ambition; but I can't think it, somehow.\"\n\n\"Do you really know nothing of them?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I have a little sealed box, with an injunction on the\noutside of it that I am not to open it until I am of age. I don't\nknow where I first got it, nor from whom it came. It may be some\ntrick to tease me for years, and disappoint me at last, for all I\nknow; and still I have always kept it, for it is all I have. And\nI think it came from them.\"\n\n\"It may tell you something wonderful,\" said his visitor,\nlaughing. For it was easy for _him_ to understand that some\nyoung mother, who even in her poverty had found the means of\nreading and believing stones of princes in disguise, and\ncountesses in cellars, disowned and disinherited, all for true\nlove's sake, had made a mystery of leaving a lock of her hair,\nand perhaps a cheap wedding-ring, to her boy; and he could not\nforbear a little ridicule of the folly. \"It may tell you\nsomething wonderful. If it gives you possession of half of New\nYork, don't forget your friends, will you, Dick?\" And then,\nbuttoned up to his chin, and with his cap covering half his face,\nand looking just like Santa Claus, Carl Stoffs bundled his\ncherished flute under his arm, and obediently went home to his\nwife.\n\nDick lingered a moment, after he left, before closing the door.\nThe room was not wholly his own; but his companion had a father\nand a mother in New Jersey, and he had gone home to them, with\nsomething in his pockets for the children's Christmas; so for\nthat night Dick was in undisputed possession. The passages were\ndark and cold; the snow had got through some of the broken\nwindows, and lay in several little hills on the entry floor; the\nsash rattled, and Dick shivered, as he stood irresolute at the\ndoor of his room. But the irresolution did not last long. He\nbundled up, as well as his scanty wardrobe permitted, closed the\ndoor firmly behind him, and went down the creaking, broken\nstairs, and through the dreary passages, where he could see the\nsnow huddling up to the dark window-panes, as if it were a white\nbird trying to get in and beating its wings against the dirty\nglass. Dick had not far to walk, after leaving the house, before\nhe found that which he had come out to find--somebody without a\nshelter from the storm.\n{528}\nAnd I should not wonder if any night, however bitter and cold,\nthat you or I should take a notion to go out on the same errand,\nwe should not have to go far for equal success, and that even if\nwe started from the most delightful dwelling-place in all New\nYork.\n\nUnder the remains of some broken steps, or more truly by the side\nof them, for they were too broken to shelter a kitten, two dark\nfigures were lying close together. In one of the pauses of the\nstorm, when the street-lamp had a chance to shine a little, Dick\ncould see that the figures were those of two boys asleep. He did\nnot wait long to rouse them. One woke up at once, cross, and, if\nI must tell the truth, with some very wicked words on his lips.\n\n\"Get up, and come with me,\" said Dick.\n\n\"What yer want 'long o' me? I an't doing nothin',\" he muttered.\n\n\"I know that; but I will give you a better place to sleep in.\nCome.\"\n\nBad words again. \"I an't done nothin' to you. Le' me 'lone.\"\n\n\"I want you to come home with me. Did you ever hear of a newsboy\ncalled Big Dick? That's me.\"\n\n\"I an't afeard o' nothin'. H'ere goes!\" And the poor little\nfellow, still believing the other was \"chaffing,\" got on his\nfeet. \"Do you want t'other? He an't worth nothin', but he'll keep\ndark.\"\n\n\"Yes, both of you. Hurry him up; it is a terrible night.\"\n\n\"Come along, Joe. Where's yer spunk? I an't afeard o' nothin'.\"\n\n\"There's nothing to be afraid of,\" said Dick, as gently as the\nroaring storm would let him. \"Don't talk now, but come on. I'll\ntake you to a room with a fire in it,\" added Dick, in spite of\nhimself feeling that he was _bon prince_ to the little\nnewsboys.\n\n\"Come on, Joe,\" urged the other, dragging and pushing the little\nnewsboy, who was hardly more than a baby, but who seemed to\nwhimper, sleepy and frightened, as no doubt he was, until, as\nquietly as the old stairs would permit, and almost holding their\nbreath, they followed Dick to his room.\n\n\"An't this bully, now?\" said Jack in an undertone, when he stood\nbefore the fire in the lighted room, and Joe, with round, staring\neyes, but not a word of complaint or fear, had been put on the\nwooden chair. \"I say, now, Joe an't much, but he'll never blab;\nbut I'se all right. What yer want us to do, now, sir?\"\n\n\"To get warm,\" answered Dick. \"I was once a newsboy, and slept\nunder stoops and sheds, like the rest of them; but now I've got a\nfire of my own, and I wanted company; so I went out and got you\nand Joe, and now make yourselves at home for tonight. Here's some\ncrackers and cheese, and when you've had something to eat you can\ngo to sleep here. It's better than out there, isn't it?\"\n\nThe newsboy stared at Dick, and grunted something which sounded\nvery much as if he did not believe a word that his host had said.\nThe other sat silent, stolid, and seemingly ready to hear\nanything. He ate his share of the crackers and cheese greedily,\nbut with a watchful eye on the giver. The warmth, however, soon\nproved too much for his vigilance, and, though his eyes were\nstill fixed on Dick's face, they were heavy and expressionless.\nAt last, Dick took him up, undressed him, and laid him in his bed\nin the corner; and then, for the first time, Joe's tongue was\nloosened. \"There, now,\" he said, as he lay exactly as Dick had\nplaced him, \"I are dead and gone at last. Twasn't no lies about\nt'other world; they wasn't a foolin' on us, after all. Here an't\nno more Heralds and Tribunes. I are dead and gone at last!\" And\nso rejoicing, Joe's eyes closed securely, and it is likely he\ndreamt of angels, if he dreamt at all, until morning came.\n\n{529}\n\n\"He an't much,\" said Jack, whom this act of Dick's, together with\nthe fire and the food, had made less incredulous and more\nconfidential. \"He's a soft 'un; he an't got the right pluck.\nHe'll never be nobody.\"\n\n\"Is he your brother?\" asked Dick. \"Do yer think I'd have him for\nmy brother? He's a youngster, come from nobody don't know where.\nHe was fetching up in my quarters last winter, and didn't know\nhis name nor nothin'; so we gives him a start, us fellers, and\nhe's stuck on to me ever since.\"\n\nThen Dick asked more about his new friend's life, and told him a\nlittle his own, and a story or two that he thought suited to his\nunderstanding; and, having won the child to believe a little in\nhis good intentions, had the satisfaction of seeing him at his\nease, and willing to go to sleep with Joe in the corner. When\nthis was accomplished, Dick put out the fire and the light, and\nlay down on the floor to sleep soundly and well, until the\njoy-bells from the great city churches should wake his guests and\nhimself to the glad tidings that Christmas had come again.\n\n\n Chapter III.\n\nAnd now I am sure you are satisfied that Dick was on the right\nroad, acting religion as fast as he learned it; trying to be all\nhe knew--to live a truthful, generous, self-respecting life. He\nhad little help, you know, and, if he followed that crowd that I\ntold you of oftener than before, and heard much that enabled him\nto take whole books into his \"inner consciousness\" which would\notherwise have been a dead letter to him, he was not one to make\na flourish of trumpets about it, or to dream of complaining that\nthe world would not stand still until he got up to it. He had but\none intimate friend, it is true; but he was a friend you and I\nmight be glad to win; a friend who never argued or lectured, but\nonly quietly built his life on the only true foundation--the true\nfaith--and then left it to show for itself. So, simply trusting\nin whatever was good, yet so fierce against whatever was evil,\nscornful of everything wrong and weak, practising as well as\nbelieving, you may be sure Carl Staffs would never have held out\nhis honest hand to Dick, if Dick were not worthy of it. And this\nmakes me think great things of my hero, of whom scarcely anybody\nthought at all. He had his place in Ames & Harden's store, and he\nhad his talks, too, now with one person, now with another, and\nperhaps thought of things he heard. He was only a boy yet, and\nhad his follies, without doubt, fancying at times that there was\nsomething in him, if circumstances would only draw it out, which\nwould prove him a great deal worthier of high places than those\nnow occupying them. I am not sure but that, if he had had a\ncountry-home, he might sometimes have lain down under the trees,\nand, while watching in a dreamy way the clouds sailing down to\nthe west, and the vigilant stars coming out to guard the earth in\nthe sun's absence, and listening to the wind among the trees, the\ntwittering of some wakeful bird, or the rustling of some grand\nold river, he might have had yearnings no one could explain, and\nnot have felt the sky too far to climb or the river too deep to\nfathom; for Dick's was only a boy's heart, that had still to\nlearn that we cannot go from the Broadway pavement to Trinity\nspire in one step.\n{530}\nEven in his city home, if home it could be called, it may be\nthat, just after he had been to church with Carl, he had glowed\nwith the thought that he--even he--might some day be a Loyola or\na Francis Xavier, for \"the thoughts of youth are long, long\nthoughts.\"\n\nBut as yet his life consciously held but one romance--one dream\nof earth. There were few to care for him; but there was a little\ngirl once who had made Christmas memorable to him, and Dick had\nnot forgotten her. She had grown a beautiful young lady now, in\nDick's eyes, though to all others she was merely a thin, dark\nschool-girl. They still lived in the handsome house on Fourteenth\nstreet, and Carl Stoffs and his band played for many a dance\nthere, although I am sorry to say that, even after a New Year's\nparty, Dick had to be sent more than once to Mr. Brandon's office\nwith a little bill, due to Ames & Harden, mostly for\nschool-books, novels, and gilt annuals. But then that was no\nfault of Mary's, you know.\n\nMr. Brandon was not a pleasant man to go to with a bill, or for\nmuch of anything in the money line. \"The deuce take it, my dear!\"\nhe often said to his wife. \"Are you bent on ruining me?\"\n\n\"Don't be silly, Charley, love,\" the dauntless little woman would\nsay, not in the least disturbed by the angry voice and black brow\nthat were so terrible to Dick. \"For people of our position, we\nlive very shabbily.\"\n\n\"Hang our position! I tell you, madam, we are going the road to\nbeggary; we are, indeed.\"\n\n\"O Charles! do be quiet,\" was her ready answer. \"I am so sick of\nthat sort of stuff.\"\n\n\"Then _be_ sick of it,\" this dreadful man would exclaim;\n\"for I'll tell it to you every day and every hour, until it gets\nthrough your silly head. Money! money! money! I never hear\nanything else in this house. I've sold myself for it, body and\nsoul, and much good it has done me! I'll not give you a penny,\nmadam; not a penny.\"\n\nBut that was all talk; for, of course, he had to give his wife,\nwho was a nice little body, very sweet and good-tempered, but\nrather fond of the good things of this world, whatever she had\nset her heart upon having.\n\n\"If papa should be right--\" Mary would sometimes urge.\n\n\"Nonsense! they all say the same thing; why shouldn't they? If I\ndidn't spend your father's money in making things pleasant at\nhome, he'd be spending it on clubs, or whatever it is which uses\nup their money when they have the spending of it all to\nthemselves. You'll have a husband, likely enough, one of these\ndays, who'll scold for every pocket-handkerchief you buy; but you\nwon't mind it. They must scold about something, you know, dear.\"\n\n\"O mamma! I'd never live a day--if--\" At which sentence, never\ncompleted, Mrs. Brandon would laugh, and the subject would be\ndropped for the present; but, of course, after such scenes, Mr.\nBrandon wouldn't be very amiable to a boy like Dick with a bill\nin his hand. But Dick to him was a mere machine, belonging to a\nstore over the way, and as such he treated him, with as little\nmalice in his hard words as if he were swearing at a table or\nchair. To Dick, Mr. Brandon was Mary's father, and that meant a\ngreat deal; Dick could never talk openly to him, nor stand in his\npresence quite as he did in the presence of other men.\n\n{531}\n\nFor, though Dick had never been outside the city limits, and had\nnever seen a hill, nor a field of corn, he was a trifle romantic,\nI am afraid, after all.\n\nYes, it is true that he grew to be almost a man without having\never climbed a hill or seen a field of grain. But there was a\ngood time coming.\n\n\"Dick,\" said Carl Stoffs, that true and faithful friend--\"Dick,\nwould you like to go to the country?\"\n\n\"Would I like to go to the country?\" he repeated, finding no\nwords of his own to say, so great was his bewilderment at such a\nquestion--\"Would I like to go to the country?\"\n\n\"Any time you're ready,\" said the German, seating himself. \"Take\nyour time to answer, my lad.\"\n\n\"What would I do in the country? I was never there in my life!\"\n\n\"And you don't look more pleased than though I'd asked you to go\nto--to--the end of the world.\"\n\n\"I have often wished to see the country,\" returned Dick, in the\ntone in which we might wish to see China if we had nothing else\nto do; \"but I don't see my way to doing so at present.\"\n\n\"I do believe, Dick, that you have lined the walls with gold\npieces, you are so miserly of your time, and so stuck to this old\nplace. Come now, we shall take you to the country, my wife and I.\nNow, to think there should be one on earth who never saw the\ngreen fields and the woods! It is to me a very odd thing! You are\nthe blind man who never saw the sun, and does not think the sun\nworth seeing.\"\n\n\"Oh! no, indeed; not so bad as that; but--\"\n\n\"Then you shall go. My sister has a house, with room for many,\nand we have taken half, keeping one room for you. Come and take\nyour week with us.\"\n\n\"But, Mr. Stoffs, I intended during that week to read so much to\ntake long walks about the city--and Mrs. Stoffs--\"\n\n\"My wife sent me; I would not of myself have such a blind man\nwith me, to read, to study, to walk; how can you in the city now?\nYou will be wild when you have been once with us. You will go\nto-day with me--I will be waiting for you at my place at five.\nWill you come?\"\n\n\"Indeed--\"\n\n\"You will come.\" And, in truth, Mr. Stoffs had previously said so\nmuch of that wonderful land in which he was now living that Dick\ncould not resist his last appeal, and afraid and shy as he well\nmight be, having never spent twenty-four hours in a home circle\nin his life, he gave his promise to be at the appointed place of\nmeeting in good time for the train.\n\nBut when the magnetism of his friend's presence was taken from\nhim, Dick's heart grew heavy in his breast. If it had been to go\nto another city, or on a matter of business, Dick's excitement\nwould have been delightful; but \"the country,\" of which he knew\nnothing, and of which he had such strange fancies, picked up he\ncould not tell where, that was another thing. City boys always\nlaughed at country people when they came to the city--they had\nsuch queer ways--and yet--and yet--he felt strange and shy about\ngoing among them. Perhaps he felt that the tables would be turned\non him there, and that his ways would be as queer in their eyes\nas theirs had been in his; perhaps he felt the full force of the\nhomely old saying that \"a cock can crow best in his own\nfarm-yard.\"\n\n{532}\n\nBut, as the day wore on, Dick's spirits rose; he thought of all\nthe stories he had read of fresh country life; a poem or two of\ncows and brooks came vaguely among his thoughts, and by the time\nhe reached his little room, and began to pack his not abundant\nwardrobe, he was eager for the first glance at \"the country.\"\n\n\"Then, may the Lord's blessing go with you,\" said his kind but\nvery slovenly landlady. \"I hope you'll come back as brown as a\nberry, sir. I was two year in the country once, and, though I\nwon't say I'd like it for always, yet my heart do get to wishing\nthese days for a sight o' the flowers and the fields. You'll mind\nthe fruit, sir, and the dews o' night; there does be great dews\nfallin', and a deal of ague, I'm told. Good-by to you.\" And Dick\nsaid \"good-by\" to her with something like emotion; for it was his\nfirst \"good-by\" to any one, and the woman had been good to him,\nand if her hair was in a blouse, and her garments ill made and\nnot clean, Dick was not startled, for he had never seen them\notherwise.\n\nThen he walked on to meet Mr. Stoffs, and found he was nearly an\nhour before the time. It seemed as if the moment of departure\nwould never come; but it did, at last, and, as in a sort of\ndream, the dusty city youth was whirled by cottages nestling\namong proud, protecting trees, past the green hills, and through\nfields \"all rich with ripening grain,\" until the panting train\npulled up between a pile of stones and a little yellow\nstation-house, with a narrow platform running beside it.\n\n\"Now, then, here we are!\" said the German, and took up his\nbundles and basket; for who ever saw a Carl Stoffs in the cars\nthat had not a bundle and basket, and a quantity of household\nfurniture besides? This last Dick took in charge, and so laden\nthe two made their way out of the cars. Around the little yellow\nstation-house dodged two splendid bays with silver harness, that\nwere being driven rapidly round a corner close to the narrow\nplatform, and went out into the dusty road; for sidewalks there\nwere none. Soon the sound of carriage-wheels made them turn\naside, and Dick stumbled, as he walked for the first time on the\nsoft green grass.\n\nWhen you take a mountain lassie to Rome and show her St. Peter's,\nshe is not enthusiastic; indeed, she is terribly disappointed.\nShe expected something so much greater than her mountains, so\nmuch brighter than her green valleys. If Dick was disappointed\nwhen he put his foot on nature's velvet carpet and found it only\ncaused him to stumble, I cannot say. I think he felt surprised\nthat a brook beside the way and far blue hills before him wrought\nno emotion within him. Fortunately Carl asked no raptures.\n\n\"That was the Brandons' turnout,\" he said in a prosaic way, as\nDick recovered his footing, and returned to the road.\n\n\"Is that so?\" asked Dick. \"Do they live here?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Carl, \"and a fine place it is too; but I think the\nman's going too fast.\"\n\nThen Dick was thoughtful for a minute or two, pitying the\ndaughter, if it were so; but it is hard to think that a man's\nfamily are near to want when his stylish carriage has just turned\nyou out of the road, and the pity soon seemed misplaced.\n\n{533}\n\nThe walk seemed long to Dick; he did, indeed, enjoy the cool\nbreeze, fresher and purer than any he had ever felt before but he\nhad his own baggage and Carl's curtain-rods besides, and he was\nused to pavements. They had already passed many fine houses, with\nlawns and carriage-ways, shaded by great trees in front of them,\nand now and again a little house, with flowers and clustering\nvines, and groups on the porches; but Carl's steps lingered at\nnone. At last they turned out of the dusty road into a shaded\nlane, a veritable lane, as new to Dick as the Paris Boulevards\nwould be to Mrs. Partington; two or three more cottages, smaller\nand not so much garden-room, and then Carl said:\n\n\"Eh! but I'm glad to get home! Come here, Will! Come, boys!\"\n\nThe last call seemed to fill the lane with children. They might\nhave come down from the trees, or up from the earth, for all Dick\ncould tell; but at the sound of Carl's voice the place was\nalive--big boys and little boys, great girls and small girls, all\nround and fat, brown-eyed and yellow-haired, with all manner of\ngreetings, gathered around the travellers, eagerly drew their\nbaggage from their hands, and with baskets, bags, bundles, and\ncurtain-rods, made a grand triumphal procession before them,\nshouting, laughing, pushing against each other, the big ones\nstumbling over the little ones, and yet nobody hurt.\n\nA few steps more and a rustic gate was opened and some one came\nand stood under the archway of evergreen branches, intertwined\nwith some drooping vines. She was facing the West, looking down\nthe lane, shading her eyes with her hand, although the sun was\nalmost down. Just for a moment she stood in the bright sunset\nglow, under the green archway, shading her brown eyes from the\nlight, looking down the shadowy lane; and, as she so stood, she\nseemed a very fair and graceful girl indeed. An instant more and\nthe children, in the importance of their mission as\nbaggage-carriers, pushed past her, and she retreated with them\ntoward the house.\n\n\"Come, Rose! Here we are!\" called Carl to her. And she turned and\nmet them as they reached the gate.\n\n\"You are welcome,\" she said to Dick when he was introduced at the\ngate.\n\n\"You are welcome,\" said Mrs. Stoffs, coming toward them from the\nporch.\n\n\"You are welcome,\" repeated Mrs. Alaine, at the door. And Dick\nhad not a word of answer to any one of them.\n\nThey were to him as grand as princesses and as gracious as\nqueens, as they came forth to receive him and bid him welcome to\ntheir little cottage; and Dick was not used to courts or to\nqueens and princesses, so he could only bow and shake the hands\nso cordially extended to him.\n\nI am afraid my hero was not at all happy for the first few\nminutes that he sat on the stoop between Mrs. Stoffs and Mrs.\nAlaine, not knowing what answer to make to even their simplest\nremark, and that he was much relieved when they joined their\nvoices to the hubbub the children were making around Carl. Such\nshyness as Dick's is very painful to the spectators, as well as\nto the embarrassed one; but, then, there's this to be said about\nit, when it is once entirely conquered it never can come back\nagain, and I fancy there are some very nice people in the world,\nnow very self-possessed and perfectly well-bred, who would give\nmuch to feel again the awkwardness and embarrassment which, once\nupon a time, caused them such keen annoyance.\n{534}\nThe women pitied Dick, but liked him none the less for the color\nthat would come into his face and the hesitation of his replies;\nbut their feeling for the stranger was greater than any pleasure\nto themselves, and so it was not long before they went into the\nhouse with the declared intention of \"getting tea.\" But going\ninto the house was not going away altogether, for the room which\nserved for parlor, library, sitting-room, dining-room, and all,\nhad a low window opening on the stoop, and Carl and Dick could\nsee them well, and speak, if they chose, without raising their\nvoices, as they went-back and forth from the table to the closet,\nand from the closet to the table, not to mention innumerable\nvisits to Carl's basket, which seemed a pantry in itself. The\nchildren ran in and out, and one jolly little one, called Trot,\nwho was as round as a dumpling, and was too young to be shy for\nvery long, informed Dick she was glad he had come, for they were\nto have sweet-cakes for tea. Occasionally Rose would come and\nstand at the window and say something to tease \"Uncle Carl,\" who\nwas not slow to \"give her as good as he got.\" Thus gradually Dick\nbecame more at ease, and began to distinguish a difference in the\ntones of the children's voices, and to take note of the strange\nSunday-like stillness which, except for the merry noises in the\nhouse, was complete, and, to him, wonderful.\n\nI think a tea-table is one of the nicest sights in the world. If\nthere is a grain of poetry in a woman, and I believe that there\nis no woman without a grain of poetry in her, it will surely,\nmark my words, however rough and prosaic she may be, come out\nabout tea-time. That was a very pretty tea-table at which Dick\ntook his place that evening; there was no silver nor China, and\nthere was, perhaps, too great an abundance of good things; but it\nstartled Dick, and I contend that it was nice and pretty, if only\nfor the reason that it had a clean table-cloth, a bunch of\nflowers, and every dish in its proper place. Mrs. Alaine, who was\nonly a feminine edition of her brother Carl, sat at the head of\nthe table, in a clean calico dress, with a white collar and a\nblue ribbon. She had a child on each side of her, whose glee, at\nthe prospect of sweet-cakes and peaches (out of Carl's basket)\nafter they had eaten their bread and butter, she tried to\nmoderate with a smiling, \"Hush, children! What will Mr. Heremore\nthink of you?\" Mrs. Stoffs, who had also a round flat face, and\nwas dressed in a clean calico, with white collar and a knot of\npink ribbons, Dick had seen many times before, and dearly loved\nthe good humor that bubbled all over her face whenever she spoke.\nShe also had a child on each side of her, whose audible whispers\nabout the good things coming she answered and mysteriously\nincreased by promises of the same again another day. But opposite\nDick was a face that was not round nor especially good-humored;\nfor the two children under charge of Rose were the least\nrepressible of the whole flock, and they tried her slender stock\nof patience sorely; especially, as she said afterward to her\nmother, with many blushes and half crying at the recollection,\n\"as they would say _such_ things right before the strange\ngentleman!\" Rose had a pretty blue muslin, with a tiny bit of\nlace around the neck, for her raiment, and there was a something\nred, green, brown, blue, pink, or yellow, that fluttered here and\nthere before Dick's eyes whenever she moved to help the children,\nor turned her young face, with its flitting colors, toward him.\n{535}\nBut whether it were a ribbon, or a blush, or the hue of her hair,\nor an aureole around her head, and whether it were no color at\nall, or all colors together, or a rainbow out of the clouds, I do\nnot think Dick had, for one moment, a definite idea--at least,\nwhile it was flitting before his eyes.\n\nAfter tea, Carl took out his pipe, and settled into his big chair\non the porch; and the children, having got somewhat over their\nawe of the stranger, volunteered to take him down the lane, and\nshow him where there had been a robin's nest last spring, an\nexpedition, however, that was vetoed by Carl on the ground that\nyou couldn't see even a robin's nest in the dark. Then Rose came\nout to tease Uncle Carl again; but, forgetting her purpose, stood\nwhere the light from within seemed to set her in glory, like the\nangels in pictures; and by and by, it came about, no one knew\nhow, that her shrine was vacant, and she, a very nice little girl\nwith her hands in the pockets--very impracticable pockets they\nwere--of her muslin apron, was telling Dick, with the children as\nprompters and commentators, the full particulars of the finding\nof the robin's nest, and what work she had had to keep the\nchildren from bringing sorrow and dismay to the hearts of the\nparent robins by stealing away their little ones. Then, as the\nmoon rose, there was no reason why the children should not take\nDick down the lane to show to him the tree where the nest had\nbeen; and then it was needful that he should know just how far it\nwas from sister Rose's window, and yet how quickly, on hearing\nthe shouts of rejoicing, she had come to Mrs. Robin's assistance.\nThen it was so funny to see a man who had never climbed a tree,\nthat it was needful two or three should go up one to show how it\nis done. Then, too, there were lightning-bugs by the million\naround them, and as Dick had never seen anything like them,\nunless it was fire-crackers on Fourth of July night, they had to\ncatch several for his investigation. When Rose told how those\nlittle things are really the people of the forest, who are so\ntimid they do not dare to come out in the daytime, but do all\ntheir praying by night, and have always been good friends to\nchildren, showing them their way home when lost, and driving away\nthe ghosts that would frighten the wanderers, then the children\nopened their brown hands and let them fly away, promising never\nto make prisoners of them again.\n\nAnd so, though Dick still felt strange and shy, it was not in\nsuch an unpleasant way as when he sat on the porch trying to\nanswer Mrs. Alaine and Mrs. Stoffs when they spoke to him. When,\nat last, he closed his eyes that night, he was half ready to\nadmit that \"the country\" might almost be the enchanted land some\npeople had made it out to be.\n\n ----------\n\n{536}\n\n\n Letter Apostolic Of Our Holy Father The Pope Pius IX.\n\n To All Protestants And Other Non-catholics.\n\n\n To All Protestants And Other Non-Catholics, Pius IX., Pope:\n\n You already know that We, having been elevated, notwithstanding\n our unworthiness, to this Chair of Peter, and therefore\n invested with the supreme government and guardianship of the\n whole Catholic Church by Christ our Lord, have judged it\n reasonable to summon to Us Our Venerable Brethren the Bishops\n of the whole earth, and to unite them together, to celebrate,\n next year, an OEcumenical Council; so that in concert with\n these our Venerable brethren who are called to share in our\n cares, we may take those steps which seem most opportune and\n necessary, to disperse the darkness of the numerous\n pestilential errors which everywhere rage to the increasing\n overthrow and the intoxication of many souls; and also to\n confirm and increase daily more and more among the Christian\n people entrusted to our watchfulness the dominion of true\n Faith, Justice, and the Peace of God. Confidently relying on\n the close ties and most loving union which in so marked a way\n unite to Ourselves and to this Holy See these our Venerable\n Brethren, who, through all the time of our Supreme Pontificate,\n have never failed to give to Ourselves and this Holy See the\n clearest tokens of their love and veneration; We have the firm\n hope that this OEcumenical Council, summoned by Us at this\n time, will produce, by the inspirations of Divine Grace, as\n other General Councils in past ages have done, abundant fruits\n of benediction, to the greater glory of God, and the eternal\n salvation of men.\n\n Sustained by this hope, and roused and urged by the love of our\n Lord Jesus Christ, who gave his life for the whole human race,\n We cannot restrain Ourselves, on the occasion of the future\n Council, from addressing our Apostolic and paternal words to\n all those who, whilst they acknowledge the same Jesus Christ as\n the Redeemer, and glory in the name of Christian, yet do not\n profess the true faith of Christ or hold to and follow the\n Communion of the Catholic Church. And we do this to warn, and\n conjure, and beseech them with all the warmth of our zeal and\n in all charity, that they may consider and seriously examine\n whether they follow the path marked out for them by Jesus\n Christ our Lord, and which leads to Eternal Salvation. No one\n can deny or doubt that Jesus Christ himself, in order to apply\n the fruits of his redemption to all generations of men, built\n his only church in this world on Peter; that is to say, the\n Church, One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic; and that he gave\n him all the power necessary to preserve the deposit of Faith\n whole and inviolable, and to teach the same Faith to all\n kindreds, and peoples, and nations; so that all men who through\n baptism become members of his mystical body, and of that new\n life of grace, without which no one can ever attain to life\n eternal, may always be preserved and perfected in them; and\n this church, which is his mystical Body, may always in its own\n nature remain firm and immovable to the consummation of ages,\n that it may flourish, and supply to all its children all the\n means of Salvation.\n\n Now, whoever will carefully examine and reflect upon the\n condition of the various religious societies divided among\n themselves, and separated from the Catholic Church, which from\n the days of our Lord Jesus Christ and his Apostles has ever\n exercised, by its lawful pastors, and still does exercise, the\n divine power committed to it by this same Lord; will easily\n satisfy himself that none of these societies, singly nor all\n together, are in any way or form that one Catholic Church which\n our Lord founded and built, and which he chose should be; and\n that he cannot, by any means, say that these societies are\n members or parts of that Church, since they are visibly\n separated from catholic unity.\n\n{537}\n\n For such like societies, being destitute of that living\n authority established by God, which especially teaches men what\n is of Faith, what the rule of morals, and guides them in\n everything that relates to eternal life, are always varying in\n their doctrines, and this changing and instability is\n increasing. Every one therefore must perfectly understand, and\n clearly and evidently see, that such societies are distinctly\n opposite to the church instituted by our Lord Jesus Christ; for\n in that church truth must always continue firm and inaccessible\n to change, so as to preserve absolutely inviolate the deposit\n confided to her, for the guardianship of which the presence and\n aid of the Holy Ghost has been, promised to her for ever. Every\n one also knows that from these divergent doctrines and\n opinions, social schisms have had their birth, which have again\n generated within themselves sects and communions without\n number, which spread themselves continually to the great injury\n of Christian and civil society.\n\n Indeed, whoever observes that religion is the foundation of\n human society, must perceive and confess the great influence\n which this division of principles, this opposition, this strife\n of religious societies among themselves, must have on civil\n society, and with what force this denial of the authority\n established by God, to determine the belief of the human mind,\n and direct the actions of men as well in private as in social\n life, has fostered, spread, and supported those deplorable\n changes of times and circumstances, those troubles which at\n this day overwhelm and afflict almost all peoples.\n\n Let all those, then, who do not profess the unity and truth of\n the Catholic Church, avail themselves of the opportunity of\n this Council, in which the Catholic Church, to which their\n forefathers belonged, affords a new proof of her close unity\n and her invincible vitality, and let them satisfy the longings\n of their hearts, and liberate themselves from that state in\n which they cannot be assured of their own salvation. Let them\n unceasingly offer fervent prayers to the God of Mercy, that he\n will throw down the wall of separation, that he will scatter\n the darkness of error, and that he will lead them back to the\n Holy Mother Church, in whose bosom their fathers found the\n salutary pastures of life, in whom alone the whole doctrine of\n Jesus Christ is preserved and handed down, and the mysteries of\n heavenly grace dispensed.\n\n For Ourself, to whom the same Christ our Lord has entrusted the\n charge of the supreme Apostolic ministry, and who must,\n therefore, fulfil with the greatest zeal all the functions of a\n good Pastor, and love with a paternal love, and embrace in our\n charity all men, wherever dispersed over the earth, We address\n this letter to all Christians separated from Us, and We again\n exhort and conjure them quickly to return to the one fold of\n Christ.\n\n For We ardently desire their salvation in Jesus Christ, and We\n fear to have one day to render account to him who is our Judge,\n if We do not show them, and if we do not give them, as far as\n is in our power, the sure means to know the way which leads to\n eternal salvation. In all our prayers, beseeching and giving\n thanks, we cease not, day or night, to ask earnestly and humbly\n for them, of the Eternal Pastor of souls, the abundance of\n light and heavenly grace. And since, notwithstanding our\n unworthiness, We are his Vicar upon Earth, with outstretched\n hands We wait, in the most ardent desire, the return of our\n erring sons to the Catholic Church, so that We may receive them\n with love into the mansion of our Heavenly Father, and enrich\n them with his unspeakable treasures. On this longed-for return\n to the truth and unity of the Catholic Church depends not only\n the salvation of individuals, but still more Christian society;\n the whole world cannot enjoy true peace unless it becomes one\n Fold under one Shepherd.\n\n Given at St. Peter's, in Rome, the 13th day of September, 1868,\n and the twenty-third year of our Pontificate.\n\nThe remarks which follow are extracted from _The London\nSaturday Review_:\n\n The Pope And The General Council.\n\n We read the Pope's Address to all Protestants and non-Catholics\n at some disadvantage. It reaches us only through a French\n version, furnished to the _Moniteur_, and published in\n that journal of Monday. And we may, in the first place,\n complain to His Holiness of the slovenly and parsimonious way\n in which he discharges the function so dear to him. He\n expatiates on his zeal for all Christian souls, and he is\n assured that he shall have to give account for us all at the\n Great Day. He, the Good Shepherd--such is his title, and we\n ought perhaps to write it, \"His,\" entrusted to him by Christ\n Himself our Lord--is bound by the charge of his Supreme\n Apostolic Ministry to embrace in his paternal charity all men\n in the whole world, and therefore he addresses this letter to\n all Christians separated from him. So lofty a purpose might\n have justified some care in carrying it out. But what has His\n Holiness done that his epistle should reach his erring people?\n Does he expect that the whole human race is bound to read the\n Government journal of Rome? Is his conscience satisfied that\n his tremendous responsibility is fulfilled by the cheap and\n easy method of publishing his behests in an obscure newspaper,\n and leaving to those most concerned to find out, as they can,\n what so nearly concerns their eternal salvation, through the\n medium of unauthorized versions and newspaper reports?\n{538}\n This is the difficulty of a Vicar of Christ who has heavenly\n functions to discharge, and only human means to work with. As\n it is quite certain, as things stand, that the awful words\n which concern the immortal destinies of every human being who\n names the name of Christ will not reach one in a hundred\n thousand of them, it seems to follow that if the Pope has these\n duties toward all mankind, he ought to have been entrusted with\n an archangelic trumpet to address himself to so very large an\n audience. It is a sad come-down from the appeal _urbi et\n orbi_ to have to hoist it up in a penny Dublin paper. Who\n knows how many the Pope would not influence if he would be at\n the trouble of addressing us by some such mundane\n instrumentality as the penny post? The Archbishop of\n Canterbury, for example; has he, as courtesy would seem to\n require, received in any authoritative way this communication\n from Rome, or heaven, or wherever it was indited?\n\n We say it with all respect, that the Pope's address was\n calculated not so much to attract as to repel. He does not\n condescend to argue; although he assures us that we are\n enveloped in a cloud of error, he is at no pains to dissipate\n it; with a bold _petitio princitii_ he sonorously assumes\n the very point at issue--the point, be it added, at issue not\n only between him and his bishops on the one hand, and the\n imposing ranks of the vast oriental church, our own church, and\n the vast Protestant communities of Europe and America, on the\n other, but the point which has been most keenly debated by the\n theologians and canonists of the western obedience. The Pope's\n address rests upon one, and upon only one, huge assumption. It\n is that the Pope, in his single capacity as monarch and\n autocrat of the church, advanced to the supreme government of\n the whole Catholic Church, has the inherent right of\n prescribing the faith of the church; that he is the one and\n supreme legislator as well as administrator. This is what even\n the church of Rome has not yet formally decreed, even by the\n easy method which a few years ago decreed the Immaculate\n Conception. Ultra-montanism--or, in other words, and to express\n it generally, the personal infallibility and supreme authority\n of the pope--is not yet _de fide_. But this is what the\n Pope assumes; and it is most likely as a step toward what it is\n understood will be the next Roman development of doctrine, and\n probably the end aimed at in summoning this so-called\n oecumenical council that the Pope, in his letter, takes up the\n position of autocrat. He addresses us, but it is only to assist\n his next move as regards his own subjects, and to help to\n settle the vexed question which his predecessors have found to\n be so inconvenient when denied by Bossuet, De Marca, Van Espen,\n and the Doctors of the Sorbonne, to say nothing of the Councils\n of Constance and Basle.\n\n In the mean time let us see what it is the Pope in his\n exuberant charity offers us. It is, we regret to say, extremely\n little. He bids us stay at home and pray to be united; at least\n we hope that he goes as far as this. But as he cannot count\n much upon the efficacy of the prayers of obstinate heretics, it\n would be perhaps nearer to the truth if we said that all that\n the Pope has to say is to invite us to return to his fold. The\n Vatican Eirenicon is of the simplest--no conditions, no\n explanations, no discussion of difficulties, no healing of\n wounds, no solemn canvassing of controversies, no arguments.\n Return first, and discuss afterward, when there is nothing to\n discuss. Might we venture to hint to Archbishop Manning who is\n polite enough to consider the present attitude of the Church of\n England toward Pius IX. as exactly similar to the state of\n things as between Gregory I. and the Pagans and Goths and\n Arians of his time--that even Arius got a hearing, and was\n allowed his say? Not so with us. There is a controversy between\n Rome and those whom Rome calls non-Catholics, as to the, not\n primacy, but exclusive autocracy of the See of Rome. There is\n only one way of deciding it--_rix\u00e1 est ubi tu pulsas, ego\n vapulo tantum_. All that we have to do is to be kicked, and\n submit. This is good schoolmaster's language; but, as far as we\n remember, it is not the old way of dealing with even heresy and\n schism. The huge series of councils might have been reduced to\n a single and very portable volume, had this mode of settling\n controversy been the church's old and compendious method.\n\n One misunderstanding, or misrepresentation, it seems to be well\n at once to remove. The Westminster _Gazette_--writing, we\n hope, without having read the Pope's address speaks of it as an\n invitation to those to whom it is addressed to repair to the\n OEcumenical Council of 1869, adding that the church will ever\n be ready to offer explanations, and to labor to remove\n obstacles to reunion. This is just what the Pope does not do.\n He does not invite non-Catholics, either in any corporate or\n private capacity, to repair to Rome. He simply says that he\n will pray for them, and bids them be reconciled.\n{539}\n Invitation there is none; offers of explanation there are none.\n We are seriously to lay to heart our condition, and give it up.\n We are invited to conform, and nothing else. To the council\n neither our bishops nor pastors are asked. And this is the more\n noticeable because the Orientals are invited. \"We raise our\n voice once more to you, and with all the power of our soul we\n pray you, we conjure you to come to this Council, as your\n ancestors came to the Council of Lyons and to the Council of\n Florence.\" Such is His Holiness's language to the Oriental\n bishops, as we find it in his Apostolic letter of September\n 8th, translated in the Westminster _Gazette_. This\n Florentine precedent will hardily be reassuring to the\n Orientals; and though, after all, the summons to them is\n substantially only what the summons to us is, as the Pope in\n either case takes up the same position--that of the exclusive\n supremacy of the See of Peter, and denies that the Eastern\n bishops are really bishops till they have submitted to him--yet\n we must remind not only the Westminster _Gazette_ but the\n _Univers_, that their statement that the Pope has issued\n anything like an invitation to attend the council, or rather\n his council, to \"all those whose separation dates from the\n sixteenth century,\" is simply untrue. Even if we had been\n asked, and even were it announced that we should have ample\n liberty to state our case, we say, as Laud said more than two\n centuries ago, \"To what end freedom of speech, since they are\n resolved to alter nothing?\"\n\nThe following report of the action of the New School Presbyterian\nSynod of New York and New Jersey we clip from the columns of one\nof the daily papers:\n\n The Presbyterians And The Pope.\n\nThe following memorial and resolutions were presented by Rev.\nDr. Adams:\n\n _Whereas_, The Pope of Rome, called Pius the Ninth, did,\n on the 13th day of September, in the year of our Lord 1868,\n issue a certain letter, a proclamation addressed to all\n Protestants and non-Catholics throughout the world, the import\n of which is to unite and urge all persons and organizations\n thus designated to hasten to return to the only fold, meaning\n the Church of Rome.\n\n _Whereas_, The said Pope in the said letter, called\n paternal and apostolic, has in an unwonted manner, as if\n pleading at the bar of public opinion, assigned several and\n various reasons for its preparation and publication.\n\n _Whereas_, Among the reasons so mentioned are the\n assertion of his own supremacy over the human conscience as the\n vicar of Jesus, and \"the authority to govern the persuasions of\n the human intellect and to direct the actions of men in private\n and social life,\" as also this, that the rejection of this\n authority and protest against it by so many has promoted and\n nourished those perturbations in human affairs, in this our\n day, which the said Pope pronounces miserable and grievous, but\n which must be regarded by every friend of his species as\n eminently hopeful and auspicious.\n\n _Whereas_, All such claims and assertions on the part of\n the Pope of Rome are to the last degree unfounded in fact,\n contrary to the truth, reason, Scripture, and the whole genius\n of Christianity, and, if allowed, would prove subversive to all\n human rights and liberties.\n\n _Whereas_, Recent movements, especially in Austria and\n Spain, nations long in subjection to the monstrous pretensions\n of the Papacy, command the prompt recognition, sympathy, and\n support of all friends of humanity, freedom, and religion\n throughout the land; therefore, be it\n\n _Resolved_, That the facts here recorded furnish and\n present a proper and fitting occasion for all Protestant\n churches throughout Christendom, each in the mode which its own\n wisdom shall suggest, to prepare and set forth for general\n distribution, through the same channels which the Pope himself\n has chosen, a suitable response to his letter, which response\n shall contain a statement of the reasons why his claims can in\n no wise be recognized, as inconsistent with a catholicity more\n catholic than Rome the authority of infallible Scripture and\n the glorious supremacy of Jesus Christ.\n\n _Resolved_, That a committee be appointed by the Synod,\n whose duty it shall be to consider the expediency of\n corresponding with other Protestant bodies in this country and\n in Europe as to the propriety of such timely action for the\n furtherance of free Biblical Protestant Christianity.\n\n _Resolved_, That it be referred to the same committee, if\n they deem it wise, to prepare and publish a reply to the said\n letter of the Pope, which shall be regarded as an expression of\n the sentiments of this Synod concerning the matters therein\n contained as of vital importance to all civil and religious\n liberty throughout the world, and to the salvation of the human\n race.\n\n{540}\n\n It was suggested that a committee consisting of three ministers\n and three elders, be appointed to carry out the objects of the\n resolutions. Dr. Cox wanted to see the committee larger. It was\n an important subject, and we want names on the document which\n will encourage our brothers in England and in all parts of\n Europe. The following committee was appointed to take the whole\n subject into consideration: Rev. William Adams, D.D., Rev.\n Henry B. Smith, D.D., Rev. Roswell D. Hitchcock, D.D., Rev.\n Jonathan F. Stearns, D.D., Rev. Edwin F. Hatfield, D.D., Rev.\n Samuel T. Spear, D.D., Rev. George L. Prentiss, D.D., Hon.\n William E. Dodge, Professor Theodore W. Dwight, LL.D., Hon.\n Daniel Haines, Hon. Edward A. Lambert, J. B. Pinneo, Esq., S.\n F. B. Morse, Esq., Cyrus W. Field, Esq.\n\nWe subjoin another report of the action of the central authority\nof the Evangelical Church of Prussia, from _The New York\nHerald_:\n\n The Berlin Evangelical Consistory On The Pontifical Letter.\n\n The pastoral letter in connection with his oecumenical circular\n addressed by Pope Pius IX. to non-Catholic Christians has\n roused Prussian evangelic church authority. The following\n circular has been addressed to its consistories: \"An open\n letter of the 13th ult., by the chief of the Roman Catholic\n Church, is directed to all Protestants, thus including the\n members of our Evangelical State Church. As this document\n contains, besides unjust accusations, many expressions of\n respect and kindness toward Protestants, we are ready and\n willing to consider it as a pledge of friendly and peaceable\n relations for the future between both confessions for the sake\n of the state and its citizens, and for the efficiency and\n triumph of Christian truth. Every sincere evangelic Christian\n acknowledges the duty of loving other confessions and deplores\n the separation in the church, especially among members of a\n common country. But as the chief of another church undertakes\n in the said letter to demand, with assumed authority, from the\n members of ours a renunciation of their cherished creed,\n founded upon the inviolable word of God, and a retractation of\n evangelical truth won by the blessed Reformation, without\n offering on his part the least prospect of a reconciliation on\n the basis of evangelical truth, we must decidedly reject his\n action as an unjustifiable trespass upon our church, and in so\n doing we are sure of the agreement of all Evangelicals. An\n appeal to the members of our church not to heed this voice may\n be deemed unnecessary; but it is proper to keep still more in\n mind, opposed to such pretensions, the numerous members of our\n persuasions who in the midst of Roman Catholicism are exposed\n to the temptations of infidelity toward the Evangelical creed;\n therefore, to procure the means for preaching to them, giving\n them the sacraments, the Evangelical school and pastoral care,\n collections are directed soon to be made in all our churches.\n The royal consistories will communicate this to the ministers\n of the dioceses, who on the days of collection on the following\n Sundays are to make proper mention of it to their\n congregations.\n\nThere was also an announcement in the papers that some sort of a\nletter to the Pope was proposed by members of the late General\nConvention of the Protestant Episcopal Church, although we do not\nknow what came of the affair eventually.\n\nWe must give justice to one portion of the comments of the\n_Saturday Review_, namely, that which refers to the\npublication of the pontifical letter. It is a matter of great\ninconvenience to Catholics throughout the world, that the\npublication of important official documents at Rome is so tardy\nand insufficient. This is a defect which ought to be, and we hope\nwill be, remedied. We have not yet seen the Latin text of the\nletter addressed by the Sovereign Pontiff to Protestants, and\nhave been obliged to take a translation of it which is not\nremarkably well-executed, and in which we have corrected\nforty-seven typographical errors, from an English Catholic\nnewspaper. The English translations of the grand and dignified\npontifical documents which are sent forth by the Holy See, are\ngenerally wretched, and make them appear to readers who are\nunacquainted with the originals in a very unfavorable light.\n\n{541}\n\nIt seems to us that it would have added very much to the effect\nof the Holy Father's paternal address to his erring and strayed\nchildren, if authentic copies had been at once sent to all the\nbishops, with a command to publish both the original Latin text,\nand also a translation authorized by themselves, with their own\nofficial counter-signature appended, for the benefit of all\nChristians within their several dioceses. As it is, however, the\nletter of the Holy Father has become very generally known through\nthe indirect channel of the newspapers, and has not failed to\nproduce a great sensation. It is just such an admonition as the\nhead of the Church, who is conscious that his authority to teach\nthe world is indubitable, might be expected to issue. It is in\nthe style and manner which become the Vicar of Jesus Christ\nspeaking to all the baptized, who, by virtue of their baptism,\nare lawfully subject to his pastoral jurisdiction. The Pope\nspeaks as one having authority, and must necessarily do so, just\nas our Lord and the Apostles did, because he knows that he has\nauthority, and that the evidence of his authority is so plain and\nclear, that at least all the educated pastors and teachers of the\ndifferent Christian sects are capable of perceiving it and bound\nto acknowledge it. The _Saturday Review_ complains that the\nPope does not argue on the subject, or adduce reasons to convince\nthose who reject his authority. This is a most unreasonable\nobjection. How would it be possible, within the limits of a brief\nletter, to address arguments, at length, to all the hundred and\none different sorts of Protestants? The letter is not destitute\nof that kind and amount of argument which are alone suitable in a\ndocument of the kind. It appeals to the manifest fact that\nProtestants are divided among a multitude of differing sects and\ndoctrines, without any principle of unity or certain criterion of\ntruth; whereas the Catholic Church, in communion with the See of\nPeter, possesses that unity and universality which are the sure\nand evident marks of the presence of the Holy Spirit within her\nbody, leading her perpetually into all truth, according to the\npromise of Christ. Our Lord, when he demanded the obedience of\nfaith under the peril of eternal damnation from all his hearers,\ndid not enter into long arguments. He presented brief and simple\nreasons in an authoritative manner to his auditors, and appealed\nto the evidences by which his divine mission was attested from\nheaven. In like manner the Holy Father, who is Christ's\nvicegerent upon the earth, affirms his own authority, commands\nsubmission to his teaching, and presents a simple, obvious\nargument addressed to the reason and conscience of all men, which\nthey have the means of easily verifying if they will. The\naffirmation of his authority, and the command or exhortation to\nsubmit to it, are not made gratuitously, and do not rest upon a\nmere personal declaration of the Pontiff, to which men are to\nyield an assent which is blind, unreasoning, or destitute of\nsolid motives. The motives are not expressed explicitly and at\nlength in the letter; but they are appealed to as existing within\nthe reach of those who are addressed, and the claim of submission\nis based upon them. The Holy Father speaks as the head of a\ncommunion embracing almost two thirds of all Christendom, which\nhas existed in an unbroken continuity of doctrine and\norganization from remote antiquity, with the entire united moral\nforce of all the bishops, doctors, and saints of the church in\nthe present and the past ages, to back and support him. He speaks\nto those whose ancestors acknowledged his authority, and who have\nbeen severed from his communion by a violent revolution, whose\njustification three centuries have not been able to establish;\nbut whose condemnation has been unmistakably pronounced by the\ndisastrous results it has produced.\n{542}\nHe has, therefore, a _prima-facie_ claim of prescription,\npossession, and general acknowledgment in his favor, which gives\nan immense moral weight to his utterance. Moreover, he speaks\nafter having for three hundred years argued the whole case\nbetween himself and Protestants in the most thorough and complete\nmanner, by the means of the theologians and writers of the\nCatholic Church, whose works are accessible in all languages. His\nbishops and priests are everywhere to be found, ready to argue\nand explain the doctrines of the church for the benefit of all\nthose who desire it. At the council itself, instructions and\nconferences in various languages will be given upon all the\npoints of controversy by the ablest and most learned preachers of\nall nations, and theologians will be ready to give private\nconferences to those who desire them. It cannot be said,\ntherefore, that the Holy Father shuts out inquiry, argument, or\ndiscussion; for he does everything to invite and favor them, and\nby his act in summoning a council, and challenging the attention\nof the whole world, throws open all the doors and windows of the\nchurch to the light of all the intelligence of Christendom.\n\nThe reviewer complains, moreover, that the Pope claims an\nauthority above that which is admitted by a school of Catholic\ntheologians, or even required by any formal pontifical decree to\nbe acknowledged as of obligatory doctrine. This is an utterly\nreckless and baseless assertion. Whatever may be the teaching of\nVan Espen, Von Hontheim, Richer, and other court canonists and\nlawyers, whose erroneous and schismatical doctrine is condemned\nrejected in every Catholic school, Bossuet, De Marca, and all\northodox Gallicans have always recognized and supported every\nwhit of that authority which is affirmed or implied in the\npontifical letter.\n\nAs for the schismatical Orientals, who are supposed to be\naggrieved by the terms of the invitation which the Pope has\nextended to them to attend the council, they are forced, in\nconsistency with the doctrine they have evermore admitted, to\nacknowledge the primacy of the Roman Pontiff, and his right to\ncall an oecumenical council. The Patriarch of Constantinople,\nalthough some of the bishops of his synod are said to have\nfavored the acceptance of the Pope's invitation, has refused even\nto receive the letter containing it. The Armenian Patriarch will\nprobably follow suit, and the Synod of St. Petersburg, which is\nonly a bureau of the imperial government, will, of course, not\nonly reject the invitation to the council in the most decisive\nmanner, but will put forth the entire political influence which\nRussia possesses in the East to hinder the Oriental prelates from\nattending. This line of conduct, however, is totally inconsistent\nwith the principles and professions of the Eastern communions.\nThey all recognize the primacy of the Roman bishop, and his right\nto convoke a council. They acknowledge that their separation from\nthe Western church is an abnormal condition, and that all\nportions of Christendom ought to be in unity. Their refusal to\nattend the council will therefore be a condemnation of\nthemselves, and will manifest most clearly the schismatical\nspirit by which they are actuated. It may be said that the terms\non which they are invited are such that they cannot attend.\n{543}\nThe gist of this excuse is, that the Pope demands a submission to\nhis supremacy which they cannot admit. This, however, does not\nreally excuse them. Admit, for the sake of argument, that the\nRoman Church has usurped a supremacy which does not belong to it,\nand is really to blame for the existing schism. They are invited\nto attend the council and sit in it as bishops. If they are\nconfident of the justice of their cause, why do not they embrace\nthe opportunity to send their patriarchs, metropolitans, and\nfifty or a hundred of their principal bishops, together with\ntheir most learned archimandrites and theologians, and the\ndiplomatic representatives of Russia and Greece, who may argue\ntheir cause before the council and in presence of all\nChristendom. If they had any moral force at all, now would be the\nopportunity to show it. But they have none, and therefore they\ndare not go, and by their open manifestation of cowardice and\nutter recklessness of the common good of Christendom, they will\ngive a death-blow to their own cause.\n\nThe Pope is blamed for not having invited the Protestant bishops\nto attend the council. It is impossible for him to invite them,\nbecause it is impossible for him to recognize their episcopal\ncharacter. The Orientals themselves would not sit with them in\ncouncil as fellow-bishops. Their claim even to an exterior\nsuccession is so extremely doubtful that at the highest it has\nonly probability in its favor. Aside from all question, moreover,\nconcerning the alleged fact of Parker's consecration by Barlow,\nand of the consecration of Barlow himself, the essential defect\nof form in the English ordinal of Queen Elizabeth must prevent\nthe recognition of any true episcopal succession in the\nProtestant Episcopal Churches. This is no reason, however, why\nthe Protestant bishops should not make an attempt to gain a\nhearing and present their claim before the council. They cannot\nbe admitted to the council as bishops, but they might, and no\ndoubt would, be received with courtesy and urbanity as\ndistinguished personages, and as representatives of some millions\nof baptized Christians. Do they believe themselves to be a\nportion of the Catholic episcopate? One of their most learned\ndivines, Palmer, to say nothing of many others, acknowledges that\nthe Roman Bishop, when he is in communion with the whole Catholic\nChurch, is the centre of unity and the presiding bishop of all\nChristendom. Why, then, do they not depute a large body of their\nnumber to go to the council, attended by their most learned\ntheologians, and ask for a hearing? Nothing could give them a\nbetter chance of manifesting the full strength of their position,\nand bringing into the light all the justice there is in their\ncause, than such a demonstration as this, if they only had\ncourage, independence, and concert of action enough to make it.\n\nWe would say the same of other Protestant communions making no\npretension to any Episcopal succession. They very generally\nprofess a desire for union among Christians. Surely there must be\nsome basis upon which this union is possible. Those who profess\nthat Jesus Christ has established a religion, given a revelation,\ntaught a doctrine and way of salvation, must admit that there is\nsome way of ascertaining with certainty what Christianity really\nis, and refuting the claims of every kind of pseudo-Christianity.\nWhy can they not make a bold and generous effort, then, to bring\nthe matter to a test, send their representatives to Rome, and try\nto have at least some beginning of a conference respecting the\ncause of dissension and disunion?\n\n{544}\n\nWe are glad to see the action taken by the Presbyterians of New\nYork and New Jersey and the Evangelicals of Berlin. We could have\nwished that the former had exhibited equal courtesy and amenity\nin their language with the latter. However, we let that pass.\nWhat we desire above all things is, that attention should be\ndrawn to the letter of the Holy Father, and to the great and\nvital matters which it presents. Our Protestant brethren can do\nus, in this respect, a much greater service than we can do\nourselves. Their resolutions, replies, discussions, and indignant\ndenials of the authority of the successor of Peter only bring\nbefore the minds of the multitude more distinctly and universally\nthe claim which he makes to be heard and reverenced as the Vicar\nof Christ. This is precisely what we desire. We do not ask, and\nthe Holy Father has never demanded, that those who are separated\nfrom his communion should submit to his authority without having\njust and adequate reasons presented before their minds. We ask\nonly that they lay aside their inherited prejudices, and that\nanimosity which is their result; examine, inquire, and weigh\ncalmly, with a pure desire to know the truth, and with prayer to\nGod, the evidence of the supreme authority bequeathed to the\nRoman Pontiff by St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles. It is\nidle to pretend that the claims of the Roman See are unworthy of\na hearing, and can be set aside by a simple denial. There is no\nother human being except the Pope who has the slightest claim to\ncall himself the Father of all the faithful, or who would dream\nof doing it. Whoever should attempt it would receive no\nattention, but would be disregarded as an idiot. No church, even,\nhowever large its numbers, can gain any general attention to its\npretensions of possessing that doctrine and polity which are\ntruly apostolic, or its invitations to the rest of Christendom to\nconform to its peculiar type of Christianity. The Pope alone\ncompels the attention of the world when he speaks. The emphatic\nprotests which his majestic and paternal admonitions to all\nChristians to return to the fold of unity call forth, are\nthemselves witnesses to the immense power which he possesses as\nthe successor of St. Peter and the heir of that promise which was\nmade by Jesus Christ: \"Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will\nbuild my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against\nit: and I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven;\nwhatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven, and\nwhatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.\"\nThere is no humiliation in being admonished and instructed by the\nvoice of one who is the inheritor of such a promise, or in being\ninvited to return under the guidance of such a majestic and\nancient pastoral authority. It is not in the spirit of pride or\ndisdain that we urge upon our fellow-Christians the duty of\nreturning to the bosom of the Mother Church. We ardently desire\nthat they may be our brethren, united with us in faith and\nfellowship, sharers with us in the glorious privilege of Catholic\ncommunion, and in the noble work of propagating Christianity\nthroughout the world. We desire to judge as favorably as possible\nof the motives and intentions of those who, with mistaken zeal,\nrepulse the earnest and paternal exhortations of the Father of\nChristendom, and trust that when they have more calmly and\nthoroughly investigated the grounds of their separation, many of\nthem will obey the voice of truth and conscience, and retrace the\npath which led their ancestors away from the doctrine and fold of\nthe successor of St. Peter.\n{545}\nWe are not sanguine enough to expect that the approaching Council\nof the Vatican will be followed by the immediate and universal\nreturn of all Christians to Catholic unity. We have no doubt,\nhowever, that it will mark a great epoch in ecclesiastical and\nhuman history, and, like the Council of Trent, will inaugurate a\nnew period of progression and triumph for the church. To what\nextent the separated Christians of the East and West will become\nreconciled to the Catholic Church, we will not venture to\npredict; but we will hazard a prophecy that within the next\nhalf-century the great mass of those who are not reabsorbed into\ncatholicity will have melted away into some form of infidelity,\nor have been swept up by some new false religion which is openly\nanti-Christian. What course the body of the Protestant clergy\nwill take remains to be seen; but if they are not wise enough to\nanticipate and lead the movement which must inevitably bring back\nthe most religious portion of their people to the unity of the\nSee of St. Peter, they will be left behind by it, and will ere\nlong find themselves without flocks and without churches.\n\n ----------\n\n Sonnet (XIII.) From The _Vita Nuova_ Of Dante Alighieri.\n\n\n So gentle seems my lady and so pure\n When she greets any one, that scarce the eye\n Such modesty and brightness can endure,\n And the tongue, trembling, falters in reply.\n She hears; but heeds not, people praise her worth--\n Some in their speech, and many with a pen--\n But meekly moves, as if sent down to earth\n To show another miracle to men!\n And such a pleasure from her presence grows\n On him who gazeth, while she passeth by--\n A sense of sweetness that no mortal knows\n Who hath not felt it--that the soul's repose\n Is woke to worship, and a spirit flows\n Forth from her face that seems to whisper, \"Sigh!\"\n\n T. W. P.\n\n ----------\n\n{546}\n\n Christmas Gifts.\n\n\nA pleasantly-furnished parlor, looking out upon noble trees and\ngray shrubbery.\n\nWithin, books, pictures, portfolios, and a superb piano.\n\nAt the piano a lovely girl of twenty summers, whose face, figure,\nand fair white hands give token that no care, or sorrow, or labor\nhas ever reached her.\n\nA footfall on the piazza startles her; the bell rings, and is\nanswered.\n\n\"George!\"\n\n\"Isabel!\"\n\nAnd in another moment brother and sister are locked in each\nother's arms. He put her from him a little, and looked in her\nface.\n\n\"You are more than ever _Bella_,\" he said, while two or\nthree times he kissed her fair forehead.\n\n\"How is my mother? Didn't I hear some strains of Mozart's\n'Twelfth' as I came into the gate?\"\n\n\"Yes, I was just playing the _Agnus Dei_. Mother is nicely;\nand I was enjoying my music immensely; for it is the first day in\ntwo or three weeks that I have been allowed to touch the piano.\"\n\nWhy?\"\n\n\"Because mother has been so sick. Don't look so frightened; she\nis quite well now. Did you know you had a little sister\nup-stairs?\"\n\n\"No, indeed!\" he exclaimed, with an expression of delight, at\nwhich Isabel laughed again, while she went on to say:\n\n\"Mother was so nervous, and so excited by the storms and\nshipwrecks that the papers were full of, that for nights and\nnights she did not sleep at all, and the doctor was afraid she\nwould die or lose her reason; but for some time past she has\nslept, and now she seems quite recovered.\"\n\n\"Let us go to her--can I go up?\"\n\nJust then a little girl of six years came into the room, with\nwide expectant eyes, and, \"Mother says--\"\n\n\"Ah! little one,\" said the young man caressingly, \"do you\nremember brother George?\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed I do.\"\n\n\"Then give me a hug,\" said he, folding her in his arms, and then\nreleasing her. \"It is a long time since you saw me. I should not\nwonder if you had forgotten me.\"\n\n\"But I have not forgotten you; and mother says,\" she went on,\ndancing up and down in great glee, \"if it's brother George,\nyou're to come right up-stairs; only you mustn't make a noise for\nthe sake of the baby. What did you bring me?\"\n\n\"If you have a baby, you ought not to expect me to bring you\nanything. Isn't the baby enough?\"\n\nShe smiled rather doubtfully, and trotted on before them\nup-stairs.\n\n\"Isabel,\" said George, \"wait a minute.\" Then, as if something in\nhis sister's face failed to invite the meditated confidence, he\nasked, as they slowly ascended the stairs, their hands locked,\n\"Is Philip here?\"\n\n\"No; he will not be here till next Monday--the Monday before\nChristmas.\"\n\n\"And you are to be married--\"\n\n\"On Christmas eve; how glad I am you've come!\"\n\n\"Is my father well?\"\n\n\"Yes; he will be so sorry not to have met you at the wharf; but\nhe had to go to W---- on Thursday, and will not be home till\nevening.\"\n\n{547}\n\nThey entered Mrs. Hartland's room, and the son, so hardly parted\nfrom, so anxiously and long expected, was pressed to his mother's\nheart. \"My darling boy, you are indeed a Christmas gift.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear mother, we ought to have been back long ago; sometimes\nI was afraid I should never get back to you. Besides that\nhurricane off the Cape, which obliged us to put in for repairs,\nwe have had very heavy weather since we crossed the line. But I\nhave accomplished the business father sent me to do, thank God,\nand am with you all once more. Are Mary and Fanny well?\"\n\n\"Yes, they have gone out to buy Christmas presents, and Robert\nwith them.\"\n\n\"And Charlie?\"\n\n\"Is spending a few days with Aunt Ellen, and will come back with\nthem on Monday for the wedding and for Christmas.\"\n\n\"O mother dear!\" said Isabel, \"whom was your letter from?\"\n\n\"From Aunt Ann. They are all well, and are coming on Monday.\"\n\n\"And Lucy and Jane?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"But, my darling mother,\" exclaimed George, with a look of\ndistress, \"you will be perfectly worn out with all this company.\"\n\n\"Mother has nothing to do with that,\" said Isabel; \"we take care\nof that. If mother takes care of the baby, that is all we expect\nof her; and Mrs. Reilly is to stay till Philip and I are off.\"\n\n\"And how is this dear little Christmas present?\" said George,\nstooping tenderly over the sleeping infant.\n\n\"Lovely,\" said his mother, smiling.\n\n\"As lovely,\" said Isabel, with a slight laugh, \"as such little\nnuisances ever are.\"\n\n\"Why, Bella dear, don't you love her?\" asked George.\n\n\"Oh! yes, to be sure, I love her; but I don't see the use of her;\nnobody wants her.\"\n\n\"I beg your pardon, dear, I want her,\" interrupted her mother.\n\n\"Oh! yes, mother, I don't mean that; I know you want her, and I\nam sure I am glad you have her; only I mean to say that she has\nchosen to come at the most inconvenient time possible, as babies\nalways do; and that there is no place here for a baby, and that\nshe deranges everything; and turns the whole house upside down;\nand I think babies are a nuisance; and then Kate is six years\nold, and we had no right to expect any more babies; and there\nwere enough of us without her; and I am just going to be married,\nand it all seems so odd and queer.\"\n\nMother laughed, and seemed to think it not at all odd and queer,\nnor yet did she take to heart Isabel's repugnances; but George\nsaid musingly:\n\n\"And yet you are going to be married yourself next week?\"\n\n\"That is precisely why it is such a nuisance,\" said Isabel.\n\n\"Would there have been enough of us without her,\" said her\nmother, \"if brother George had never come back, as for so long a\ntime we feared he would not?\"\n\n\"There are never enough of us without George,\" replied Isabel,\nreddening, partly from vexation, and partly from the\nconsciousness that the brother, of whom she was so fond and\nproud, was regarding her, she really did not know why, with\nsomething like surprise and disappointment.\n\nJust then the baby stirred, woke, was taken up, admired,\ndiscussed, and caressed, and in the midst of a consultation as to\nwhat her name should be, a noise of feet and voices was heard in\nthe hall below.\n\n{548}\n\nBy a mutual instinct that \"mothers room\" should be spared the\ndisturbance of too noisy greetings, the young people ran\ndown-stairs. There were tender embraces on the part of the girls,\nmore vehement and tumultuous ones from Bob, and confused cries\nof, \"Are we not glad to see you!\" and \"How long you staid!\" and\n\"We thought you would never come back!\" with \"I was in danger of\nnever coming back;\" and \"How you have grown!\" and \"How pretty you\nare!\" at which Mary and Fanny laughed and blushed.\n\n\"I say, old fellow,\" cried Bob, \"hadn't you a terrible time? were\nyou frightened?\"\n\n\"I hadn't time to be frightened,\" returned George, \"there was too\nmuch to do.\"\n\n\"What could you do?\"\n\n\"Not so much as a sailor, of course; but every one can do\nsomething--every one who is cool and not afraid.\"\n\n\"By Jove! but I should think 'twould be fun! only I should be\nafraid; I shouldn't like to go to the bottom.\"\n\n\"No, most of us would object to that.\"\n\n\"I wish you wouldn't say 'by Jove,' Robert,\" said Isabel; \"I wish\nyou wouldn't take up expressions from your school-fellows that\nyou never hear at home.\"\n\n\"Isabel isn't fond of foreign importations,\" said Fanny.\n\n\"Yes, she is, though,\" retorted Robert wisely, \"what is she made\nof, from top to toe, but foreign importations?\"\n\nAmid the general laugh which followed this thrust, Mrs.\nHartland's voice was heard at the head of the stairs:\n\n\"Fanny! brother George will want to go to his room; is it ready\nfor him?\"\n\n\"Yes, mother, it is all ready; I will go and see. You will have\nplenty of time, George; for dinner is half an hour later to-day,\non account of father.\"\n\nNot long after this, there was a thundering rap at George's door,\nwhich opened and admitted his youngest brother, a lad of ten\nyears.\n\n\"Why, Charlie, boy,\" he exclaimed, as the lithe little fellow\nsprang into his arms, \"I didn't expect you; I thought you weren't\ncoming till Monday.\"\n\n\"No, I wasn't; but father saw by the paper that the ship was in,\nand I told Aunt Ellen I couldn't stay any longer.\"\n\n\"You've grown a head taller since I saw you.\"\n\n\"I should think I'd had time enough to grow; how long have you\nbeen gone?\"\n\n\"Fourteen months; but let's go down and see father.\"\n\n\"But, George,\" said the little boy, looking round the room, \"do\nlet me come back and chum with you now. I've slept with Robert\never since you went away, and I like it very well with Robert,\nbut I'd rather come back to you, mayn't I?\"\n\n\"Certainly you shall, if mother and Robert agree to it.\" And\nCharlie made one leap to the first landing, another to the\nsecond, and with a third bound reached his father's door.\n\nA gay party assembled at dinner. Mother came down for the first\ntime, to honor her boy's return. Mr. Hartland said a long,\nearnest grace, thanking God for the bounties spread before them\nless than for the return of the long-absent, and for their joyful\nreunion. The girls were looking their prettiest, the boys full of\nglee. All being more talkative than hungry, they discussed home\naffairs, family affairs, the voyage, the tropics, and Valparaiso,\nuntil Charlie, tired of his chair, pushed it back, and began\nturning summersets over the floor, by way of digesting his\ndinner.\n\n{549}\n\nA general move followed; father and George exchanged a few\nsentences on business matters in a low voice to which nobody\nlistened, and the young man left the room. Presently he returned\nwith a bulky envelope, which he gave his father, saying:\n\nThere are the papers, sir; I think you will find the whole matter\nvery clearly stated, and the affair satisfactorily arranged.\"\n\nMr. Hartland took the bundle, and, placing himself at a side\ntable, turned the drop-light conveniently and began to open and\nread. At this signal the rest of the party moved into the parlor;\nmamma was placed in the most comfortable chair, and the young\npeople were presently absorbed in a conversational and\nphilosophical game. How long the wits of all of them had been on\nthe strain, not one of them could have guessed, when, just as\nRobert was insisting that the article under discussion must be\nred clover, and that it must be found chiefly in icebergs, or\nelse both Fanny and George had made wrong answers, suddenly their\nfather's tall figure loomed up before them. His usually calm face\nwas slightly tremulous.\n\n\"We never can be thankful enough, my dear boy,\" he began\nabruptly, and his voice trembled also, \"to have you among us once\nmore; and I must say I am very proud at the manner in which you\nhave managed this business.\"\n\nGeorge blushed, mamma's eyes filled with tears, and Charlie, who\nfor the last half-hour had been so sleepy that he was of no use\nexcept to make a laugh at his own expense, rubbed his eyes and\nlooked up.\n\n\"George is a trump!\" said he sententiously.\n\nThis was a great relief to papa, who fairly looked as if he would\nhave liked to cry himself, and the hubbub of voices and inquiries\nwhich followed was quieted by Isabel placing herself at the\npiano, and beginning the same strain from Mozart's Twelfth which\nhad charmed her brother on entering the gate.\n\nGeorge stood over the piano and again looked at Isabel, as if he\nwere half inclined to tell her something, but refrained; and\nIsabel was too much occupied with her own plans and prospects to\nindulge an indiscreet curiosity.\n\nThe next day Mr. Hartland having established himself in the\nlibrary soon after breakfast, and the younger members of the\nfamily having gone out on their Christmas errands, Mrs. Hartland\nbethought herself to go and see if her son's room were supplied\nwith all things necessary to his comfort. The door was open, and\nGeorge and Isabel were both there, gaily chatting and laughing,\namid a confused medley of books, papers, clothes, and odd\nnicknacks, to which George was busily adding, as he pulled pile\nafter pile from his trunk. Isabel glanced from one object to\nanother, with the idle curiosity and eagerness begotten of such\noccupation; but seeing her mother approach, she made haste to\nclear the rocking-chair and place a footstool for her feet.\n\n\"Tell mother about that curious little pipe,\" she said.\n\n\"Yes, but let her see it first; isn't it odd?\" said he, showing\nit. \"I thought of giving it to Robert, he is so fond of oddities;\nand see, mother, is not this shagreen case pretty, with the\nsilver trimmings, and that quaint old medallion on the cover? It\nwill do to keep your needles and thimble in.\"\n\n{550}\n\n\"Yes, and scissors, and a good-sized spool of cotton; it will do\nnicely to take to the sewing society, mother dear.\"\n\n\"And here is a box which I thought of giving to father,\" returned\nGeorge, \"only he never takes snuff,\" producing a beautiful amber\nsnuff-box, mounted and lined with gold.\n\n\"Exquisite! he could keep postage-stamps in it,\" suggested\nIsabel.\n\n\"That would do very well for you girls, who only write three or\nfour letters a week; I have something else that will please\nfather much better.\" And he brought from his trunk a dagger of\nfine metal, curiously wrought in arabesque, the massive handle\nalso richly carved and inlaid. While her mother was admiring the\nworkmanship of the dangerous little weapon, Bell took up, one\nafter another, the books upon the table, most of them old\nacquaintances, travelling companions, taken from home and brought\nhome again. As she listened to the story of the pipe, mamma\nobserved in Isabel's hand a little, well-thumbed book which\nattracted her attention.\n\n\"What book is that, dear?\" she asked, as the story ended.\n\n\"A prayer-book,\" said Isabel.\n\n\"An Episcopal prayer-book?\"\n\n\"No,\" said George, \"a Catholic.\"\n\n\"What do you have that for?\" said Mrs. Hartland, with a mingled\nexpression of surprise, contempt, and indignation.\n\n\"Because I want it,\" he returned, smiling.\n\n\"What do you want it for?\" she exclaimed, instantly alarmed at\nhis look and tone.\n\n\"Because, dear mother, I want it to use; I am a Roman Catholic.\"\n\n\"A Roman Catholic! You might as well plunge this dagger into my\nheart,\" said his mother, \"as tell me that. Dearly as I love you,\nI would much rather see you dead and buried.\"\n\n\"And I,\" said George quietly, \"would much rather be dead and\nburied than ever be a Protestant again.\"\n\n\"What infatuation! But how came you to be a Catholic, and what\nput it into your head to change your religion?\"\n\nGeorge began to tell her of an acquaintance formed on the outward\nvoyage with a Catholic priest, who was bound for the same port as\nhimself; of the inexplicable attraction which drew him to this\nman; of the charm of his conversation and manners; of their\ndiscussions; of the books which he lent him; of his tender and\nfatherly advice and instructions--here Mrs. Hartland interposed\nan expression of impatience and contempt--\"in short, dear\nmother,\" pursued the young man earnestly and quietly, \"I became\nperfectly convinced that the Catholic religion is the only true\nreligion; and as I did not choose to risk my salvation by living\nany longer without it, I was received into the church before I\nleft Valparaiso.\"\n\n\"Well, I feel as if all the happiness of my life were blighted.\"\n\n\"I am sorry you feel so, dear mother; I am grieved to pain you,\nbut there was no help for it; you would not have me violate my\nconscience.\"\n\n\"There is such a thing as an ill-enlightened conscience.\"\n\n\"That's so, my dear mother,\" said he, with something more than\nhis old bright smile, \"and I am sure that when you have heard\nfairly stated the arguments which have influenced me--\"\n\n\"I don't want to hear any arguments or any reasons; I would\nrather die than be a Catholic; it is a bad sign when young people\nbegin to think themselves wiser than their elders.\"\n\n{551}\n\n\"So it is, dear mother; but you did not repulse Grace Estabrook\nwith that argument when she left the Unitarian church and began\nto come to yours, against the wishes of both her parents.\"\n\n\"I don't wish to hear anything about it, or to talk or argue; the\nwhole subject is hateful to me. You have given us all the dagger,\nmy son,\" said she, placing it upon the table, and rising, she\nwent below to communicate to Mr. Hartland the sad intelligence.\n\nThe allusion to the dagger affected George very sensibly, and he\ndreaded to go down-stairs or meet his father and sisters; but\nhaving at last made the effort, he was immensely relieved to find\nevery one as kind as usual. His father's face was pale and\nexcited, but he said nothing; Bob stared at him rather saucily,\nas if he were a phenomenon; and the rest of the family evidently\nregarded him as an amiable dupe. This was hard, but endurable.\nHis spirits rose, he romped with the little ones, capped verses\nwith his sisters, and convinced every one that his self-respect\nwas in no way diminished by the slender appreciation put upon his\nfaith. There were, of course, not wanting arguments and\npersuasions to lure him back to the faith of the family; but\nGeorge was not a fellow having once in his life met with positive\ntruth, to abandon it afterward for a mere negation.\n\nAfter dinner, some of the novelties which he had brought home\nwere produced: the dagger, which his father accepted and admired,\nwithout seeming seriously wounded by it; a collection of shells,\na set of corals, and some exquisite little articles of\nmother-of-pearl. Kate fished out of his pocket a necklace, as she\ncalled it, of garnet beads, not running all together, but\nseparated occasionally by little bits of gold chain, with a gold\nmedal pendent from it.\n\n\"Isn't this a reward of merit?\" exclaimed she; \"is this for me,\nbrother George? may I have it?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said George, laughing, \"you may have it.\"\n\nBut it would not go over her head, and it had no clasp to fasten\nround her neck; then she tried it on for a bracelet, but it would\nfall off. In short, it was not meant to wear, nor for an ornament\nat all, but for something else; and as she twirled it rather\nuneasily over her fingers, not knowing exactly what to do with\nit, George took it from her, and replaced it with a carnelian\nnecklace which he clasped round her white throat. Kate was\ncontented to see the little garnet beads slip back into her\nbrother's pocket, with the assurance that she should see them as\noften as she wished, not, however, till they had been curiously\nexamined and inquired into by Charlie and Fanny.\n\n\"They are to say?\" said Fanny, with great curiosity, \"how do you\nsay them?\" But before George could answer the question, the baby\nwas brought in, and the subject dropped.\n\nThe little one was petted, praised, and passed from hand to hand\nwith an affectionate eagerness which showed plainly that she was\nnot generally considered a nuisance, and at last all protested\nthat it was high time she had a name.\n\n\"I shall not call her Bridget, to please George,\" said mamma.\n\n\"But it would not please me, dear mother, to have you call her\nBridget. I see no more propriety in calling her Bridget than in\ncalling her Eulalie, or Genevieve, or Inez.\"\n\n\"I think I will call her Elizabeth Tudor; she was a good\nProtestant.\"\n\n{552}\n\n\"I doubt very much Elizabeth's being what you would call a good\nProtestant,\" returned George merrily; \"but if you call baby after\nher, I shall immediately put her under the protection of St.\nElizabeth.\"\n\n\"Who was St. Elizabeth?\" asked Fanny.\n\n\"She was a Hungarian princess, and very pious. She washed the\nsaints' feet and tended the sick and poor with her own hands.\"\n\n\"If it was a boy, I would call him Cranmer,\" said mamma.\n\n\"I guess not,\" said Mr. Hartland; \"I should have something to say\nabout that.\"\n\n\"You might call her Jezebel, or Bathsheba,\" suggested Robert; \"I\ndare say they were both genuine Protestants.\" There was\nfrequently an uncertainty as to how Robert's missiles were\nintended to fall; and whether his barbed arrows were sped in\ninnocence or with malice aforethought was a point in regard to\nwhich the most unlimited private judgment was conceded to every\nmember of the family. Of course, nobody laughed at this sally,\nthough Isabel bit her lip to keep from smiling, and George said,\n\n\"Why not call her Annie, after Aunt Ann?\"\n\n\"I have been thinking of that,\" said mamma, \"only Isabel thinks\nit is such a homespun name.\"\n\n\"I like homespun names,\" said papa.\n\nIsabel liked Blanche, and Fanny suggested Margaret. Robert\nthought Schwartz would be more appropriate than Blanche. George\nsaid any name was good that was in the calendar. Robert said\nCharlotte Corday was in the calendar. George thought not, and\nafter a brisk discussion and sundry pros and cons, it was decided\nto call the little one Annie.\n\n\"And St. Anne was the mother of the Blessed Virgin Mary,\"\nwhispered George to Isabel, as he opened the piano for her.\n\n\"Christmas gifts not appreciated,\" said George, turning round at\nthe head of the first flight of stairs to bid Isabel good night.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" said Bell.\n\n\"I mean the dear little sister in there,\" pointing to his\nmother's room, \"whom you think a little nuisance.\"\n\n\"Psha!\" said Isabel.\n\n\"And I here, too,\" he went on, \"who should have been under the\nwater rather than have come home a Catholic. And the gift of\nfaith,\" he said seriously, \"which God has bestowed upon me, and\nwhich my friends would wish me to throw away or trample under\nfoot, and the guardianship of saints and angels, which people\nmock at.\"\n\n\"Baby can hardly be called a Christmas present,\" said Bell,\n\"since she is four weeks old, and Christmas is not until next\nThursday.\"\n\n\"Not precisely.\"\n\n\"Nor your gift of faith, as you call it, since you became a\nCatholic, you say, before leaving Valparaiso.\"\n\n\"Not as we usually speak; but every blessing comes to us really\nbecause of the Incarnation, and so any blessing which we have\nparticularly to be thankful for may be gratefully regarded as a\nChristmas gift.\"\n\n\"Well, it must be owned,\" said Isabel, \"that you bring your\nideas, like the wise woman in the Proverbs, from afar.\"\n\nGeorge went on quietly without smiling. \"There will be more\nChristmas gifts next Thursday.\"\n\n\"I dare say,\" said Bell, though her face demanded an explanation.\n\n\"Father and mother will have another son, and we all shall have\nanother brother, and you will have one who in some sort will\nstand to you in the place of God.\"\n\n{553}\n\nBell colored and was silent. If she had chosen to speak, she\nwould have said that of all her brother's far-fetched ideas this\nwas the oddest, and one which she was little likely to\nappreciate. She certainly had not regarded Philip at all in that\nlight, or as a gift from God any way. She returned her brother's\ngood night, and, going into her own room, meditated how George\nwas always the same incomprehensible fellow, always gay and full\nof life, and yet always taking seriously what every one said in\ntemper or in fun, or by vanity, or for effect, \"as if an idle\nword signified.\" With every one else in the house she did pretty\nmuch as she pleased; but George always contrived to manage her,\nand had done so ever since she was born. He had a quiet, serious\nway of talking to her, as if he were twenty years her senior,\nwhich was not flattering to Bell's vanity; yet she loved him so\nvery much, she was not at all sure that she loved Philip better.\n\n\"Well, George,\" said Robert on Saturday night, \"I suppose you are\nnot going to church to-morrow with us?\"\n\n\"Probably not,\" said George.\n\n\"I suppose you will go to St. Lawrence's, over here, with\nservant-girls, and stable-men, and rag-pickers; won't it be a\nsweet crowd!\"\n\n\"Do be quiet, Robert,\" said his father, \"what difference does it\nmake whom you go to church with?\"\n\n\"Mother,\" said Fanny, \"may I go to church with brother George\ntomorrow?\"\n\n\"No, Fanny, you may _not_,\" said Mrs. Hartland shortly, \"and\nyou are not to ask for such a thing. The Catholic religion is the\nreligion of the devil, and I don't want you to know anything\nabout it, or to hear or think anything about it. I would rather\nyou were dead and buried than that you should be Catholics, any\nof you.\"\n\nPoor Fanny looked dismayed, and Robert and Mary laughed\nirreverently; but Mr. Hartland said mildly,\n\n\"If the Catholic religion were the religion of the devil, my\ndear, I think there is nothing gained by saying so.\"\n\nAnd when the children had dispersed for the night, and he was\nalone again with Mrs. Hartland, he said:\n\n\"George has been led away by his imagination; and your vehement\nopposition will only strengthen him; let him alone, and he will\nget over this.\"\n\nIn due time Philip made his appearance. He was a gay, spirited,\nhandsome fellow--a great favorite with every one, and especially\nwith George, whose classmate he had been.\n\nThe Shirleys and Hartlands had been intimate for many years,\nhaving moved in the same society, inherited the same religious\nopinions, and imbibed by association the same ideas. Mr. Shirley\nwas a man of great wealth, and was still living; but Philip had\njust inherited a fine property from the uncle after whom he was\nnamed, so that he was as rich as he needed to be now, with a\nprospect of as much again hereafter. Indeed, as Mrs. Hartland\nrather proudly said, \"It was precisely the connection which they\nhad most desired for Isabel.\"\n\nAnd yet, such as Philip was, it was not strange, perhaps, that\nGeorge's idea of the Christmas gift should seem to Isabel\nfar-fetched. \"But it is not so,\" George reasoned, \"for you all\nsay that marriages are made in heaven, and St. James says that\n'Every best gift, and every perfect gift, is from above, and\ncometh down from the Father of lights.'\"\n\n{554}\n\nChristmas eve arrived, and, according to the programme, the young\npeople were married. \"The wedding was furnished with guests,\" and\nit may be taken for granted at once that everything was planned\nand carried out in the most approved style, since Isabel had the\nsupreme dictatorship. George was first groomsman, and the others\nwere selected from the list of Belle's inconsolable admirers.\nLittle Kate was the smallest bridesmaid, and went through her\npart with serious gravity, evidently believing that she was\nassisting at a solemn function. The bride and groom were\npronounced the handsomest couple, and so forth; the cake and the\nweather were delicious. Philip certainly appreciated his\nChristmas gift, and thought himself a happy man. He had always\nconsidered Belle the prettiest girl in P----, as she was\ncertainly one of the cleverest; he was perfectly persuaded that\nshe was equally good and beautiful, and he had the grace to think\nthat his own wealth, with his other advantages, did no more than\nplace him upon a par with her. Certainly, Isabel's prospects of\nhappiness were very fair.\n\nAnd so she passed away to adorn a new house, very much missed by\nall at the old, and by none more than by Mary, who succeeded to\nthe place and honors of elder sister, though confessedly by no\nmeans so beautiful, brilliant, or clever as \"Miss Hartland that\nwas.\" But Mary was a good girl, played and sang very sweetly, and\nwas always ready to gratify her father with those simple ballads\nin which he chiefly delighted. Home was quieter, but perhaps\nscarcely less happy, and home happiness was constantly augmented\nby the pleasure of anticipating Isabel's visits.\n\nIf Mr. Hartland really expected George to get over his love for\nand belief in the Catholic religion, he was evidently doomed to\ndisappointment; for, to all appearance, it every day penetrated\nmore and more the very substance of his being, though he had\nalways been so sincerely religious that his external conduct was\nmodified by it less than might have been supposed. Fanny never\nrepeated her preposterous request for permission to go to church\nwith brother George; but she was perpetually slipping into his\nroom, peeping into his books, admiring his little pictures and\nstatuettes, trying, in fact, with a girl's insatiable curiosity,\nto discover why the forbidden fruit was so unspeakably poisonous.\nShe incurred repeated scoldings for her restless inquest; and,\nafter being reproved the twentieth time for taking possession of\nbrother George's books and carrying them off into her own room,\nshe fairly disconcerted her mother by indignantly inquiring, \"Why\nthey had no '_creed_,' and what right the people who first\nstarted the Protestant religion had to hide away the 'Apostles'\nCreed' from everybody, so that hundreds of persons who thought\nthemselves Christians, and meant to be Christians, lived and died\nwithout ever knowing there was any 'creed.'\"\n\nPoor Mrs. Hartland was completely nonplussed; she knew nothing\nabout creeds herself, but she hesitatingly suggested that they\nhad a \"form of covenant.\" This, Fanny insisted, was not the least\nlike the \"Creed,\" and her mother, having no other forces in\nreserve, took refuge in the usual invective, and assured her\ndaughter in the most solemn manner that she would prefer to see\nher in her grave rather than have her imbibe her brother George's\nsentiments.\n{555}\nFanny, of course, was obliged to go to George for a satisfactory\nanswer to her question, and having learned from him the gradual\nprocess by which the first Protestantism had dwindled down into\nNew England Congregationalism, her reverence for the system in\nwhich she had been brought up was not increased.\n\nMeanwhile, almost another year has passed away. Little Annie\nHartland is creeping about the carpet, or pushing herself round\nwith a chair, and, under great persuasion and generous bribery,\nmaking some diffident attempts to talk. Isabel has been at home\nsome weeks, and is domiciled in her own old room. Philip's visits\nare frequent, but short and uncertain, for though a rich he is by\nno means an idle man. All are improving the last beautiful days\nof autumn, in anticipation of the disagreeable weather of settled\nwinter.\n\nFanny, especially, who was fond of riding and a capital\nhorsewoman, rode almost every afternoon, sometimes without any\nescort, and sometimes accompanied by Robert, who was very proud\nof the elegant figure his sister made on her spirited yet gentle\nhorse.\n\nOn one of the loveliest of these days, as George, returning from\na long walk, was sauntering up the drive, he was startled at\nseeing Robert upon the lower end of the piazza without a hat,\ntrembling, and excessively pale.\n\n\"Do you know? did you see her?\" he asked, quivering with\nexcitement, and without waiting for an answer, \"Fan--she's been\nthrown--and mother says she's been terribly hurt.\"\n\n\"Where was she? who was with her? is she here?\"\n\n\"In mother's room. Where were you that you did not see it?\"\n\n\"I have been in the other direction, up toward the academy. Has\nPhilip come?\"\n\n\"Yes, he came just before Fan was hurt.\"\n\nGeorge went up-stairs, and found Fanny quite insensible.\n\nThe poor child was settled in her mother's room, out of the way\nof Isabel, whose little boy was only a week old, and from whom\nthe sad news was to be kept as long as possible. For some days it\nseemed very doubtful whether Fanny would recover; but her youth\nprevailed, and at last the doctor pronounced that, with great\ncare, she would be perfectly restored, though she would scarcely\nbe able to leave the house before spring.\n\nDuring this interval Belle, who was rapidly convalescing, had\nrepeatedly asked for Fanny, and wondered so much that she did not\ncome to her room that it was at last no longer possible to\nconceal her sister's injury. Isabel's excitement and agitation\nwere at first extreme; but the assurance that the invalid was now\ndoing well soon soothed and cheered her, and she pleased herself\nthat before long she could go into her mother's room and show\nFanny her beautiful baby.\n\n\"He is four weeks old to-morrow,\" said Isabel, \"and the doctor\nsays I may go down-stairs to-morrow. Poor dear little Fanny! I\nwonder when she will be able to go out? Do you know, George, I\nthink, considering all that has been said on several occasions\nabout preferring that we should be dead and buried rather than\nthat we should be this and that, we all ought to be very thankful\nthat Fanny was not killed outright?\"\n\n\"Of course.\"\n\n\"I wonder if mother ever thought of it?\"\n\n{556}\n\nBut George made no reply; only, after a few minutes, he said:\n\n\"You ought to have this dear little fellow baptized, now, while\nPhilip is here.\"\n\n\"O clear!\" said Isabel, \"we don't dream of having him baptized\ntill spring; it is too cold; and Philip is going to-morrow\nevening. Annie was almost six months old before she was\nbaptized.\"\n\n\"I know, but it is very wrong; most Catholic children are\nbaptized before they are ten days old.\"\n\n\"Oh! yes, I know you think it is necessary.\"\n\n\"If it is not necessary, I don't see why you do it at all.\"\n\n\"Why, it is a pious observance,\" said Isabel. \"What hurry is\nthere? besides, we can't have him baptized now, for Philip and I\nhave not agreed what to call him.\"\n\n\"And while you are debating that point, you run the risk of\nhaving him die without being baptized at all.\"\n\n\"I don't think there is any danger. He is as well as he can be.\nAnd mother's little--I forget what his name was--died without\nbeing baptized at all, and I don't believe it makes any\ndifference.\"\n\n\"Just as I told you last year, Belle,\" said George, smiling,\n\"gifts despised; you place a sacrament instituted by our blessed\nSaviour himself on the same footing with grace at table; a pious\nobservance, of course; to be attended to, no doubt, when one is\nnot in too much of a hurry.\"\n\nIsabel half smiled; but she was too proud and happy, and too busy\npetting her darling, to regard much the drift of her brother's\nwords. At that moment Philip came in to get the baby to show\nFanny, and the three adjourned into their mother's room, Philip\ncarrying the baby, of whom he was evidently very proud.\n\n\"There are most too many of you,\" said Mrs. Hartland; but she\ncould not choose which to dismiss, so they all went in. \"I don't\nlet Fanny hold _levees_, but you need not stay long.\"\n\nFanny was very fond of babies, and they made her examine his\nbeautiful eyes and forehead and dimpled chin; and then Belle\ncalled her sister's attention to the exquisitely embroidered\ndress which she herself had worked.\n\n\"I wonder how long it will be before I shall be able to work\nanother,\" said Fanny, with a patient smile.\n\n\"You will soon be well enough, dear Fanny, for me to come and\nread to you,\" said George.\n\n\"Oh! yes, I shall enjoy that; and if Belle is going down-stairs\nto-morrow, she can play a little, and if the doors are left open,\nI shall hear.\"\n\n\"Yes, and Mary can play to you; for I shall be carrying Belle off\npretty soon,\" said Philip.\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said mamma, \"she can't go till after Christmas; so\nyou will have to come back and spend Christmas with us.\"\n\n\"It will be a great drawback to our Christmas, having Fanny\nupstairs,\" said Isabel.\n\n\"Yes,\" returned mamma; \"but if she recovers, we shall have no\nreason to complain.\"\n\n\"I have been telling Isabel that she ought to have the baby\nbaptized while Philip is here,\" said George.\n\n\"Nonsense, George!\" replied his mother; \"nobody thinks as you do,\nand why will you be forcing your peculiar notions upon us?\" And\nso the suggestion passed and was thought of no more.\n\n\"Put him down and let me kiss him,\" said Fanny; \"dear little\nfellow! I wish I could take him.\" But she knew it was impossible,\nand she made no objection when, after a few minutes, Mrs.\nHartland put them all out of the room.\n\n{557}\n\nThat evening, when the baby was put to bed, Mrs. Hartland thought\nhe seemed dull; but this was natural enough; nurse said he was\nsleepy. He slept very well and was bright in the morning, but\ntoward night became dull again. Another day brought no\nimprovement, and Mrs. Hartland became uneasy. She consulted the\ndoctor, and strictly followed his suggestions, but the symptoms\nwere only aggravated. She did not like to show Belle her anxiety,\nand proposed taking the baby herself into Fanny's vacant room, in\norder, she said, that Isabel need not be disturbed. For two\nnights she watched and tended him, hardly sleeping herself until\ndaylight, when she suffered Mrs. Reilly to take her place.\n\nMrs. Reilly was a kind, prudent, motherly woman, and very fond of\nMrs. Hartland's children, most of whom had been washed and\ndressed by her for the first time in their lives. She was also a\nCatholic.\n\nThe second night George sat in his room till very late, reading.\nShortly before midnight, he went to bed, and slept uneasily for\ntwo or three hours, then rose, and finding that it wanted some\nminutes to four o'clock, he dressed, and resumed his reading,\nlistening the while till some one in the house should stir.\n\nSoon after the great hall-clock struck five, Mrs. Reilly left\nIsabel's room very softly, and went into Fanny's to take the\nbaby. George waited until he heard his mother pass from the\nlittle room into her own, and close the door. Then he went\ndown-stairs and into Fanny's room, where Mrs. Reilly sat with the\npoor little suffering child upon her lap.\n\n\"Is there any change?\" he asked.\n\nShe shook her head.\n\n\"He'll not live till night, Mr. George,\" she whispered. \"Poor\nMiss Belle! what will she do?\"\n\nMrs. Reilly could not get over her habit of calling: Isabel \"Miss\nBelle.\"\n\n\"Did you ever baptize a child, Mrs. Reilly?\"\n\n\"Indeed I have, sir.\"\n\n\"Then you can do it once more,\" said he, smiling sadly. \"We must\nnot let this child die without baptism.\" And he poured water into\nthe basin, and brought it to her.\n\nAnd the humble Irish nurse performed those sacred acts which, by\nthe power of the Word made flesh, sanctify the soul.\n\nGeorge replaced the basin, kissed the little creature upon whose\nhead the baptismal water was still glistening, and returned to\nhis own room as silently as he came.\n\nIsabel slept heavily and uneasily, and woke unrefreshed and with\na vague sense of apprehension. She rose on hearing the bell ring\nfor family prayers, and hearing her brothers go down-stairs she\ndressed languidly and went into the next room.\n\nThe babe still lay upon the pillow in the nurse's lap, and,\nalthough the breakfast-bell had already rung, Mary was sitting in\nthe window, looking silently and with folded arms at the sick\nchild.\n\n\"Why, he seems so sick,\" said Isabel, with a tone and look of\npain and alarm.\n\n\"Yes,\" said Mary, \"he is very sick.\"\n\nMary had always helped her mother more than Belle in taking care\nof the little ones, and she knew better than her sister how to\njudge of illness. Isabel asked several questions, to which Mrs.\nReilly gave only the most vague and cautious answers. The faint\nring of silver was heard in the hall.\n\n\"There is your breakfast, Belle, dear,\" said Mary, \"go into your\nown room and take some coffee; you ought not to be standing about\nhere without having taken anything.\" \"O dear!\" said Isabel, \"I\ndon't want any breakfast. I wonder when Philip will come, and\nwhat will he say to see the baby so sick?\"\n\n{558}\n\nAfter a few moments, she followed her sister's advice.\nMechanically she put the sugar and cream into the coffee, and had\njust drunk it off, and pushed away the little stand, when the\ndoor opened and Philip entered.\n\n\"Where is he?\" and his face of agony and consternation told all.\n\nHe had been sent for, and she knew why.\n\n\"Oh! no, no, they don't think he will die,\" cried Isabel\npassionately, throwing herself into Philip's arms; \"they don't\nthink he will die! O my darling! my baby! my beautiful boy!\" And\nshe rushed into the next room.\n\nHer grief was terrible to witness, and Philip had to command\nhimself.\n\n\"He has changed a good deal since daylight,\" said Mrs. Reilly,\nlooking up at Philip; but she was sorry she had looked, and\nhastily turned her eyes again upon the child.\n\nPresently Mrs. Hartland came in, and insisted that Philip should\ngo down and have some breakfast, and he felt bound to obey.\n\nIsabel was stunned. It had never entered her head that _he_\ncould die; he was so strong and bright and beautiful, and he was\n_hers_. She threw herself helplessly upon the couch, and\ncared for nothing. By and by she remembered that now she could\nsee him for a little while, but that soon she could see him no\nmore, and she rose and went into the room.\n\nGeorge and Philip were both there. The quiet little form lay\nsweetly, as in sleep, upon the white counterpane of Fanny's cot.\nDeath had only beautified him. The tiny waxen hands clasped upon\nthe breast, almost as white as the white rosebud they enfolded,\nthe smile of beatitude upon the face, the beautiful forehead, the\nclosed eyes with their long lashes--no pain, no sorrow, the\nineffable peace there, contrasting with the tumult of agony in\nher own soul, brought the tears to Belle's eyes.\n\nGeorge could not help thinking of his own little brother, just\nabout as old, whom, years ago, he had seen lying in the same way\nin that very room, upon whose head the baptismal water had never\nfallen; and he thought Isabel very happy.\n\nAnd thus was laid away, till the morning of the resurrection, the\nfair casket which had enclosed, for so short a time, a beautiful\nsoul.\n\nIsabel's room was neatly set in order. It was the brightest and\nprettiest chamber in the house, but it looked empty and desolate,\nthough the family inclined to congregate there, every one wishing\nto do something to comfort their poor sister.\n\n\"It is five weeks to-day since my little darling was born,\" said\nIsabel; \"how proud and happy I was only a week ago, showing him\nto Fanny.\"\n\nGeorge seemed in a reverie, but after a moment he said,\n\n\"And it is a year to-day since I returned from Valparaiso.\"\n\nBelle fixed a look of anguish upon her brother's face, and then\nwept bitterly, until having stopped, apparently from mere\nexhaustion, she said,\n\n\"I have been properly punished.\"\n\n\"What do you mean, Belle dear?\"\n\n\"I mean I have been punished for making so light of one little\nlife, or rather, for my own life-long selfishness,\" said she,\nlooking at Annie who was playing upon the carpet.\n\nGeorge looked at Isabel with much concern and tenderness, but\nsaid nothing.\n\n{559}\n\n\"I deserve to be punished, I know, George. I have been perfectly\nselfish. I have thought more, all my life long, about dress and\nvanity and pleasure than about anything else in the world. I have\nbeen a member of the church and have had a class in the\nSunday-school, and I have thought myself a very good Christian;\nbut I have really occupied all my life in thinking how I should\ncontrive to look prettier and to dress better than others, and to\nsecure my personal gratification. And I have always thought\neverything a nuisance that has stood in my way. When the dear\nbaby came, I have been thinking ever since he was born how I\nshould dress him and make him look pretty--and now the body that\nI thought so much of--\" She stopped and sobbed again.\n\n\"Don't make yourself so unhappy, my darling sister,\" said George\ntenderly, as he rose and kissed her.\n\nShe seemed soothed, and presently ceased weeping.\n\n\"And for my Christmas gift this year, I have that little grave.\"\n\n\"Dear Belle, you must not be too hard upon yourself; the gifts of\nGod are as many as the sands upon the sea-shore, and one honest\nsight of one's self is a Christmas gift worth having. Even if we\nthink we are punished, his chastisements are always gifts, if we\nknow how to receive them; my dear sister, isn't it so?\"\n\n\"I have heard so times enough from the pulpit,\" said Belle,\nthrough her tears; \"but you know, George, I have never thought\nabout those things. And then, my baby's soul, which I cared so\nlittle about--dear George, do you really think it makes any\ndifference?\"\n\n\"What, dear?\"\n\n\"Whether he was baptized or not?\"\n\n\"I don't _think_ anything about it, my darling sister; I\n_know_ that it makes all the difference between going\ninstantly to the heaven of heavens, where God is, and staying,\nperhaps for ever and ever, in a place which, though not an\nunhappy place, is by no means so happy as the very\npresence-chamber of the King of kings. But you need not grieve\nabout that; for he was baptized, and your little darling has gone\nto keep a joyful Christmas in heaven.\"\n\nAnd then he told Belle how he came down that morning, and how\nMrs. Reilly had baptized the child.\n\nIsabel listened and wept and seemed comforted.\n\n\"I am sure I thank you, dear George, you are always so kind and\nthoughtful. I know father and mother don't think it makes the\nleast difference in the world, and I don't know why I should\ntrouble myself about it; but still, now that I have lost him, I\ncan't bear to think that anything was left undone which could\nhave been done to his possible advantage. And then Philip--Philip\nis a great deal better than I am; I have thought very often,\nGeorge, of what you said last year about Philip being a gift to\nme--a gift from God; he really is very good, and he seemed to\nfeel so badly because baby was not baptized.\"\n\n\"Our blessed Saviour has given us the sacrament of baptism for\n_something_, no doubt,\" said George, \"and it is taking\nconsiderable upon ourselves, short-sighted creatures as we are,\nto pronounce that it is of no consequence to any one, even to a\nbabe a day old. But you must be comforted now, my darling sister,\nand remember that God has given you this year for your Christmas\ngift, not merely that little grave, but a spotless soul before\nhis throne, who will never cease to pray for you and Philip until\nyou are so happy as to arrive there yourselves.\"\n\nThen bending over her, he made the sign of the cross on her fair\nforehead, and in his heart invoked on her those Christmas\nbenedictions which faith alone can give.\n\n ----------\n\n{560}\n\n The American College In Rome.\n\n\nWe design, in the few following re to call the attention of our\nreaders to a work which is in process of execution in this\ncountry at present, to secure an endowment for the American\nCollege in the Eternal City. In the earnest appeal which will be\nfound at the end of this article, made by the most Rev.\nArchbishop of Baltimore and the Rt. Rev. Bishop of Philadelphia,\nin the name of their brethren of the Episcopate, to the more\nwealthy among our American Catholics, the reasons are plainly\nstated why this should be done. The voice of our prelates is to\nus the voice of God; and we believe that we are furthering the\ndesigns of his providence in sustaining this institution, which\nwas founded by the Holy Father for the benefit of the Catholics\nof the United States. We have had the college in Rome for some\nyears, and we are now called upon to decide whether we shall\npermit it to be closed for want of proper support, and thus show\nthat we are not able to appreciate the gift of his Holiness, to\nmaintain the College when he has given the building, to do our\nshare when he has so generously done his.\n\nThe prelates have placed the whole question with admirable\npractical wisdom before us. Their plan is both grand and\nfeasible, and is characterized by that energy of purpose, zeal\nfor religion, and attachment to the real progress of the church,\nwhich eminently distinguish the hierarchy, the clergy, and the\nfaithful of the United States.\n\nIt is not necessary to recapitulate the arguments which are\ncontained in the circular, for they speak for themselves.\nReference, however, may be briefly made to some of the immense\nadvantages which are enjoyed by the young Levites brought up in\nthe centre of unity, as Samuel of old within the precincts of the\ntemple. In the first place, the constant presence of the visible\nhead of the church upon earth reminds them continually of our\nblessed Lord's promises to his first Vicar, so perfectly\nfulfilled in the long line of his successors, the gates of hell\ncontinually striving but never prevailing against them, and\nexcites in their hearts that true devotion to the Holy See which\nis the surest test of orthodoxy, as it is the most perfect\nsafeguard against error. Wherever they turn, they behold the\nevidences of the victory achieved by the faith of Christ over\npaganism and infidelity. The despised cross has fully conquered.\nThe student in Rome is continually reminded of the immense\nrevolution which took place first in Rome, when Constantine\nembraced the faith of Christ, and the Caesars gave place to the\npontiffs, and heathen temples were converted to the worship of\nthe one true God, and Rome became the centre of another empire\ngrander far than the one of which she was the centre before,\nwhich stretches \"from sea to sea, and from the river to the ends\nof the earth.\" There is something, moreover, in the atmosphere of\nRome provocative of study; nor is there wanting that generous\ncompetition which serves to awaken every energy in the endeavor\nto excel in the various departments of learning. Rome is, in this\nsense, an intellectual arena in which contend bright intellects\nfrom all parts of the known world, whose powers are brought out\nand strengthened by their very exercise.\n\n{561}\n\nNot only are there many advantages to be enjoyed there in a\nliterary and intellectual point of view, but even greater in a\nspiritual. Where else are the great festivals of our holy\nreligion celebrated with the splendor and magnificence that they\nare there? Where else is God awarded the first place, and\nreligion paramount? Where else is devotion to the blessed\nsacrament practised as it is in Rome? To say nothing of the\ncountless masses, of the churches open from early dawn to dusk;\nthe kneeling worshippers; no day in the year but what, in the\nbeautiful devotion of the Forty Hours, the blessed sacrament is\nexposed to the adoration of the faithful--now here, now\nthere--the Son of God upon his earthly throne; lights burning as\nthey burn nowhere else; and the silent throng adoring,\nworshipping, thanking, praying. Then the intense devotion to the\nBlessed Virgin, the Madonna at every street corner, in every\nshop, in every house, and the light which love and reverence have\nlighted, burning before it. It has well been said that the\nbusiness of Rome is prayer. What an advantage for one who must\nlabor in a country like ours, filled with every form of religious\nerror, to have these memories to fall back upon, to encourage him\nin the midst of the contradiction of these dogmas of our holy\nfaith in which he has to dwell, to stimulate both himself and the\nflock committed to his care to imitate the example of fervent\npiety and devotion which Rome sets to the world. How powerful\nthere, too, the example of the saints! Nowhere else so much as in\nRome does the truth spoken by the apostle, that we are \"the\nfellow-citizens of the saints and the domestics of God,\" come\nhome to us; we seem to stand in their footsteps, from the martyrs\nwho laid down their lives during the fearful persecutions of the\nfirst three centuries to the confessors and virgins almost of our\nown day. There lie, side by side, the bodies of the great\napostles, Peter and Paul; of Peter, who received from our blessed\nLord the charge of the sheep and lambs of his flock; of Paul,\nmiraculously converted to faith in Him whose followers he had\npersecuted; who, in turn, became the great instrument in the\nhands of God of preaching that holy faith and leading thousands\nto embrace it. There, in that amphitheatre, the martyrs were torn\nin pieces by wild beasts from the Libyan deserts. There, in those\ncatacombs, their bodies were reverently laid. Here, one martyr\nafter another suffered. There is the resting-place of Lawrence,\nof Sebastian, of Agnes, of Cecily. Here lived those holy popes\nwhose names are found in the calendars of the saints; and, to\ncome nearer home to our own day, there St. Ignatius lived; here\nSt. Aloysius and St. Stanislaus Kostka passed their angelic\nlives, and breathed out their pure souls to God. This was the\nhome of St. Philip Neri, the apostle of Rome; here he preached,\nsaid mass, and heard confession.\n\nBut the list is too long, and we must stop. Let the examples\ngiven suffice. There can be no question of the advantages of such\ninfluences as these upon the lives of those who are surrounded by\nthem, and specially upon those who are to be consecrated to God\nin the service of his sanctuary.\n\n{562}\n\nAnother point must be remembered, and that is, that as Rome is to\nus what Jerusalem was, under the old dispensation, in a certain\nsense, the place whither the \"tribes of the earth go up,\" so it\nis very desirable that every nation should have a college there\nwhich should serve as a kind of headquarters to represent them,\nand to which persons coming from that nation could go, and feel\nthat they were at home. Thus, the Englishman naturally finds his\nway to the English college, the Irishman to the Irish, and so on;\nand he finds those there who can speak to him in his own tongue,\nand to whom he can apply for advice and information. Again, at\nRome are the _limina apostolorum_, which every bishop is\nbound to visit at certain periods of his episcopate. We have now\nbetween forty and fifty bishops in this country, and from time to\ntime they go thither, as Paul did to see Peter, to expose to the\nChief Pastor the condition of their flocks, to consult with him,\nand to obtain for themselves and their flocks the blessing of the\nVicar of our Lord upon earth. During the late gathering at Rome,\nfourteen of our bishops were lodged at the American College.\nDuring the coming council there should be more; and at other than\nthese special times there will be sometimes one, sometimes\nanother of our bishops there, not for himself, but for us; and\nthis alone should be a strong argument why the college should be\nsustained, that as the bishops of other nations have homes in\nRome, so ours should have one too.\n\nThere can be no doubt, then, about the advantages of the college\nand the importance of maintaining it. It involves an outlay of\nmoney, but the return will be sure and great. There is no more\npressing need at the present time than that which this college,\nwith many others, supplies, namely, an increased number of\npriests. There are five millions of Catholics in this country,\nand it is impossible that with so many to prevent it, and\nspecially of the class now called upon, the necessity of closing\nthe college should occur.\n\nWe are proud of our country, of its lakes, and its rivers, and\nits mountains, surpassed nowhere in the world. Let us not be\ncontent with these natural excellences which are not of our\nmaking, but come to us from the hand of God. Let us try to excel\nin those things which are under our control--in virtue, in\nlearning, and in all that makes man great and good; and in this\nparticular instance let us try to excel the other nations in our\ncollege in Rome. Let it be a model in discipline, in spirit, and\nin intellectual culture. Let us try to make it the leading\ncollege in this respect, and also in the number of students. In\nthis point let it be second only to the Propaganda. Let us not be\nsatisfied until we have it fully established, and at least a\nhundred students within its walls. That this may be accomplished,\nwe call the attention of our readers to the appeal, and trust\nthat every one who is able will take part in this great\nundertaking to the utmost of his ability.\n\n\n Appeal To The More Wealthy Among\n The Catholics Of The United States.\n\n Beloved Children In Christ: You are aware that some years ago\n the cluster of National Colleges in Rome was increased by one,\n and that one was the College representing our own nation.\n Almost every nation had previously been represented there: the\n Irish, the English, the Scotch, the French, the Germans, the\n South Americans, etc. At last the deficiency was supplied,\n through the munificence of our beloved Pontiff, Pius IX., who\n generously bestowed a spacious and centrally located site for\n the purpose. Our College was opened, and it has already trained\n a number of priests for the American Mission; while it has also\n been a place to which Americans in Rome, no matter what their\n faith, might resort, and feel that they were at home.\n\n{563}\n\n Unfortunately, however, sufficient means were not provided, at\n the commencement, to establish the College on a solid basis;\n and after struggling on for some years, it is now in imminent\n danger of being closed. It would be one thing never to have had\n the College, but it is another altogether to have had it and to\n lose it. This latter contingency, besides being a great\n disgrace to us, would be also an irreparable loss to the\n country.\n\n The late Plenary Council ordered a general collection for the\n relief of the immediate wants of the College; nor is it our\n intention to supersede this collection, but rather to aid it\n toward effectually accomplishing the object in view. This\n collection will still be necessary to pay debts already\n incurred, and to provide for pressing needs.\n\n But, in addition to the general collection, which we hope will\n soon be taken up, it has been suggested to propose to our\n wealthier Catholics, for their imitation in this matter, the\n noble example of their forefathers in the faith, who did great\n things for religion and for God. Instances of this occur in\n Rome itself, where, besides several other colleges for various\n nationalities, founded principally by the munificence of\n particular wealthy Catholics to rear up priests for their\n respective countries, the English College, since such a\n blessing to the English nation, was founded by Ina and by Offa,\n Saxon princes, first as a resting-place for English pilgrims,\n and then as a nursery to train up priests for the English\n Mission. In those days, kings and princes, and men of wealth\n willingly founded and endowed churches, colleges, asylums,\n hospitals, institutions of religion, learning, and charity,\n whose very ruins, in lands where they have been allowed to go\n to ruin, are monuments of former Catholic munificence while\n they are a reproach to our own degenerate days. It has been\n thought that, at this juncture, this glorious example of our\n ancestors would be promptly imitated; and that an appeal made\n to those Catholics in this country, whom God has blessed with\n abundant means, to come to the rescue, and not only to save the\n College, but to put it at once on a sound and substantial\n basis, would not be made in vain, but would be generously\n responded to.\n\n It is with this view, that we make our earnest appeal to you at\n this time, and propose a plan which, we think, with your\n co-operation, will be successful in speedily founding and\n endowing the American College in Rome. We urge the matter upon\n you the more strongly, as next year the great General Council\n is to be convened in Rome, and we are to meet the bishops of\n the whole world in one of those grand assemblies which mark an\n era in the history of the Universal Church. To the Councils of\n Nice, Ephesus, Chalcedon, Lateran, Lyons, Florence, and Trent,\n is to be added that of the Vatican. Let us, before we go to the\n Holy City, have the consolation of knowing that, through your\n munificence, we have a college there to which we can proudly\n point, as bishops of a great Catholic people; let us be spared\n the disgrace of going thither to find its doors closed, and its\n name blotted out from the list of National Colleges existing in\n the Eternal City. We confidently appeal to you as Catholics and\n as Americans, loving your religion and your country, that this\n may not be so. Surely, the means with which God has blessed you\n can be applied to no higher or holier purpose than this; nor\n can there be any which will draw down upon you and your\n families a more abundant blessing of heaven. The prayers and\n holy sacrifices which will be cheerfully offered up in your\n behalf by those who, through your bounty, will be trained up\n for the holy ministry, cannot fail to draw down upon you\n heaven's choicest benedictions. Our plan, then, is briefly\n this:\n\n We wish to raise from $250,000 to $300,000. We have appointed,\n as our agent in the matter, the Rev. G. H. Doane, Chancellor of\n the Diocese of Newark, to visit all the principal dioceses of\n the United States, and call upon those who are most able, to\n contribute their subscriptions. We propose that of these\n generous contributors to a noble work there should be three\n classes:\n\n 1. Founders Of Burses; who will contribute, once for all,\n _five thousand dollars_ in currency, yielding something\n over two hundred dollars, in gold, of yearly interest; and who\n will have the right of selecting, from those who will be\n recommended and approved of their respective bishops for this\n purpose, one student of the College for ever.\n\n 2. Patrons; who will contribute _one thousand dollars_,\n once for all, and will be entitled to send a student, approved\n of by the bishop, for three years.\n\n 3. Life Members; who, by contributing _five hundred\n dollars_, will share in the holy sacrifices and prayers of\n the College and of the students.\n\n The names of all these three classes will be enrolled, and\n placed in a handsome frame, to be kept in the Chapel of the\n American College; and solemn high mass will be celebrated for\n them in Rome twice a year--once for the living and once for\n the deceased benefactors; besides the private masses which the\n priests educated at the College will feel impelled by gratitude\n to offer up frequently for their respective patrons and\n benefactors and their families.\n\n{564}\n\n This plan, if zealously and efficiently carried out, will, we\n are convinced, accomplish the desired result in very short\n time. One Catholic gentleman in Baltimore has already founded a\n Burse, and others will follow his good example. We believe that\n we can safely calculate on the following amounts to be realized\n in the United States, under the three heads above named:\n\n Twenty Burses, at $5,000---- $100,000\n One Hundred Patrons, at $1,000---- 100,000\n One Hundred Life Members, at $500.---- 50,000\n Total $250,000\n\n The reverend father to whom we have entrusted this important\n matter, and in whose zeal and efficiency we have the utmost\n confidence, will call upon you during the course of the coming\n winter. You will, we are quite sure, receive him worthily, as\n our representative; and you will enable him, we trust, to\n return to us with fresh and abundant proofs of your well-known\n generosity and self-sacrifice, and with an ample and sufficient\n sum not only to save, but to endow, and render perpetual for\n all time, our _American College in Rome_.\n\n M. J. Spalding,\n _Archbishop of Baltimore, and Chairman of Metropolitans._\n\n J. F. Wood,\n _Bishop of Philadelphia, Chairman Executive Committee\n\tof Bishops, and Treasurer._\n\n _Baltimore_, Feast of the Presentation of the\n Blessed Virgin, 1868.\n\n\n Letter Of Rev. George H. Doane.\n\n Having been appointed by the Most Rev. Archbishop of Baltimore,\n and the Rt. Rev. Bishop of Philadelphia, as Chairmen\n respectively of Metropolitans, and of the Executive Committee\n of Bishops, who have charge of the affairs of the American\n College in Rome, with the duty of endeavoring to raise an\n endowment fund for the College, I have, with the consent of my\n own bishop, accepted the trust which they have confided to me,\n and propose to enter upon the work at once. Before Christmas I\n hope to visit, with the consent of the Archbishops and Bishops\n of those Sees, Baltimore, Philadelphia, Albany, Boston, and\n Hartford; during the holidays, New-York, Brooklyn, and Newark;\n and about the middle of January to start for the North, West,\n and South.\n\n Love for Rome, and the desire to make some little return for\n the many blessings I received while a student in one of the\n National Colleges there, (the American College not having then\n been founded,) by trying to procure the same blessings to\n others; and love for my country, with the desire to see\n preserved for her, in the very heart of the Eternal City, a\n place where some of her young Levites may grow up in the\n schools of Rome, under the shadow of St. Peter's, and in the\n immediate presence of the Vicar of our Lord upon earth, are the\n motives which prompt me to undertake this arduous duty.\n\n That it may succeed, I earnestly beg the prayers of the\n faithful, the generous and zealous co-operation of all in the\n good work, and remembrance on the part of my fathers and\n brethren at the altar of God in the daily sacrifice.\n\n G. H. Doane.\n\n ----------\n\n{565}\n\n Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n Number Three.\n\n The Problem Of Multiplicity.\n\n\nIn the development of the Catholic idea of God, which we have\ngiven in the previous number, we have met with no opposition from\npantheism.\n\nHere, however, it raises the most difficult as well as the most\nsublime and profound question which can be proposed to human\nintelligence--the problem of multiplicity. We shall let a\npantheist propose it in his own words.\n\nIt will be remembered that the last of the attributes which we\nvindicated as belonging to the infinite was that of absolute\nunity. This attribute gives rise to the problem.\n\n\"What is unity,\" says Cousin, \"taken by itself? A unity\nindivisible, a dead unity, a unity which, resting in the depths\nof its absolute existence, and never developing itself, is, for\nitself, as if it were not. In the same manner, what is variety\nwithout unity? A variety which, not being referable to a unity,\ncan never form a totality, or any collection whatever, is a\nseries of indefinite quantities, of each of which one cannot say\nthat it is itself and not another, for this would suppose that it\nis one; that is, it would suppose the idea of unity; so that,\nwithout unity, variety also is as if it were not. Behold what\nvariety or unity isolated would produce; the one is necessary to\nthe other in order to exist with true existence; with that\nexistence, which is neither multiple, various, mobile, or\nnegative existence; nor that absolute, eternal, infinite\nexistence, which is, as it were, the negation of existence. Every\ntrue existence, every reality, is in the union of these two\nelements; although, essentially, the one may be superior and\nanterior to the other. You cannot separate variety from unity,\nnor unity from variety; they necessarily coexist. But how do they\ncoexist? Unity is anterior to multiplicity; how then has unity\nbeen able to admit multiplicity?\" [Footnote 162]\n\n [Footnote 162: Cousin's _History of Modern Philosophy_.]\n\nAgain: \"Reason, in whatever way it may occupy itself, can\nconceive nothing, except under the condition of two ideas, which\npreside over the exercise of its activity; the idea of the unit,\nand the idea of the multiple; of the finite and the infinite; of\nbeing and of appearing; of substance and of phenomenon; of\nabsolute cause and of secondary causes; of the absolute and of\nthe relative; of the necessary and of the contingent; of\nimmensity and of space, of eternity and of time.\n\n\"Analysis, in bringing together all these propositions, in\nbringing together, for example, all their first terms, identifies\nthem; it equally identifies all the second terms, so that, of all\nthese propositions compared and combined, it forms a single\nproposition, a single formula, which is the formula itself of\nthought, and which you can express, according to the case, by the\nunit and by the multiple, the absolute being and the relative\nbeing, unity and variety, etc. Finally, the two terms of this\nformula, so comprehensive, do not constitute a dualism in which\nthe first term is on one side, the second on the other, without\nany other relation than that of being perceived at the same time\nby reason.\n{566}\nThe relation concerning them is quite otherwise\nessential, unity being eternity, etc.; the first term of the\nformula is cause also, and absolute cause; and, so far as\nabsolute cause, it cannot avoid developing itself in the second\nterm, multiplicity, the finite and the relative.\n\n \"The result of all this is, that the two terms, as well as the\n relation of generation which draws the second from the first,\n and which, without cessation, refers to it, are the three\n integral elements of reason. It is not in the power of reason,\n in its boldest abstractions, to separate any one of these three\n terms from the others. Try to take away unity, and variety\n alone is no longer susceptible of addition--it is even no\n longer comprehensible; or, try to take away variety, and you\n have an immovable unity--a unity which does not make itself\n manifest, and which, of itself, is not a thought; all thought\n expressing itself in a proposition, and a single term not\n sufficing for a proposition; in short, take away the relation\n which intimately connects variety and unity, and you destroy\n the necessary tie of the two terms of every proposition. We may\n then regard it as an incontestable point, that these three\n terms are distinct but inseparable, and that they constitute at\n the same time a triplicity and an indivisible unity.\" [Footnote\n 163]\n\n [Footnote 163: Lecture Fifth.]\n\nAs the reader may have observed, Cousin raises the problem of\nmultiplicity. He expresses it under a logical form, but the\nproblem is a metaphysical one, and hence applicable to all\norders, logical as well as ontological. It is raised by all\npantheists, whose words we abstain from quoting for brevity's\nsake; and so far as the problem itself is concerned, it is a\nlegitimate one; and every one, who has thought deeply on these\nmatters, and is not satisfied with merely looking at the surface\nof things, must accept it.\n\nLet us put it in its clearest light. The infinite, considered\nmerely as unity, actuality, (all words which mean the same\nthing,) can be known neither to itself nor to any other\nintelligence. It cannot be known to itself. For to know implies\nthought, and thought is absolutely impossible without a duality\nof knowing and of being known, of subject and of object. It\nimplies an intelligence, an object, and a relation between the\ntwo. If, then, there is no multiplicity in the infinite, it\ncannot know itself. It is, for itself, as if it were not; for\nwhat is a being which cannot know itself?\n\nNor can it be known to any other intelligence; for mere\nexistence, pure unity does not convey any idea necessary to\nsatisfy the intelligence.\n\nMoreover, the mere existence and unity of an object does not make\nit, on that account, intelligible. For an object to be\nintelligible, it is required that it should be able to act on the\nintelligence, such being the condition of intelligibility.\n[Footnote 164] Now, action implies already a multiplicity, a\nsubject and the action. Therefore, if the infinite were mere pure\nunity, it could not be intelligible to any intelligence. But in\nthe supposition that there is a kind of multiplicity in the\ninfinite, how would multiplicity be reconciled with unity? How\nwould these two terms agree?\n\n [Footnote 164: See _Balmes's Fundamental Philosophy_, on\n Intelligibility.]\n\nMultiplicity seems to be a necessary condition of the infinite,\nwithout which it would not be intelligible either to itself or to\nothers. Absolute unity seems also to be a necessary attribute of\nthe infinite, and yet these two necessary conditions seem to\nexclude each other. How then must we bring them together?\n\n{567}\n\nThis is the problem to be solved; the grandest and most sublime\nproblem of philosophy; which has occupied every school of\nphilosophy since man began to turn his mind to philosophical\nresearches.\n\nThe two great antagonists, pantheism and catholicity, give an\nanswer to the problem, and it is the province of this article to\ndiscuss the two solutions, and see which of them can stand the\ntest of logic, and really answer the problem instead of\ndestroying it. We shall enter upon the discussion, after\npremising a few remarks necessary to the right understanding of\nthe discussion.\n\nThe first remark which we shall make is to call the attention of\nthe reader to the absolute necessity for the existence of the\nproblem.\n\nIt is not pantheism, nor Catholicity, which arbitrarily raises\nthe problem; it exists in the very essence of being, in the very\nessence of intelligibility. Those philosophers who cannot see it\nmay have taken a cursory glance over some pages of what purports\nto be philosophy, but they never understood a word of that which\nreally deserves the name of that sublime science. We make this\nremark for two different reasons: First, in order to close the\ndoor to all the objections raised against the problem. For if it\nis demonstrated that a multiplicity is required in the infinite,\nthen to raise objections against it only shows want of\nphilosophic depth, but does not prove anything against the\nexistence of the problem. We shall return to this subject. The\nsecond reason is a consequence of the first, to wit, that should\nwe find that the answer to the problem is not as clear and\nevident as we might desire, we must not, on that account, reject\nthe problem, but should be satisfied with the light that is\nafforded. This is but reasonable. Deny the problem we cannot. It\nfollows then that we must be satisfied with an answer which,\nwhilst it saves the problem, throws as much light on it as is\npossible, under the circumstances.\n\n\n Pantheistic Solution Of The Problem\n Of Multiplicity And Unity In The Infinite.\n\nPantheism arrives at infinite unity by eliminating from it all\npossible determination, definition, reality, ideality, thought,\nwill, consciousness; and rising from abstraction to abstraction,\nfrom elimination to elimination, from a more limited\nindefiniteness to a higher and broader and less restricted one,\nup to mere simple, unalloyed abstraction and unity.\n\nAll pantheists follow the same process in order to arrive at\nunity. Cousin calls it dead, immovable, inconceivable; a thing\nexisting as if it were not; the Being--Unreality of Hegel. But\nascended to such a summit, all multiplicity eliminated, and pure\nunalloyed unity once found, how is multiplicity to be\nreconstructed? With the greatest ease in the world. Pantheists\nmake this Being--nothing unfold and develop itself like a\nsilkworm; alleging, as a reason for such development, an\nintrinsic necessity of nature, an imperative instinct which\nbroods in its bosom.\n\nThus they reconstruct multiplicity by making the Infinite become\nfinite, cosmos, matter, spirit, humanity, etc. Let us hear\nCousin: \"This is the fundamental vice of ancient and modern\ntheories; they place unity on one side, and multiplicity on the\nother; the infinite and the finite in such an opposition that the\npassage from one to the other seems impossible.\"\n\n{568}\n\nAnd, after having remarked that this was the error of the school\nof Elea, he continues: \"Immensity or unity of space, eternity or\nunity of time, unity of numbers, unity of perfection, the ideal\nof all beauty, the Infinite, the absolute substance, being\nitself, is a cause also, not a relative, contingent, finite\ncause, but an absolute cause. Now, being an absolute cause, it\ncannot avoid passing into action. If being, in itself alone, is\ngiven as absolute substance without causality, the world is\nimpossible; but if being in itself is also a cause and an\nabsolute cause, movement and the world naturally follow. The true\nabsolute is not pure being in itself; it is power and cause taken\nabsolutely, which consequently creates absolutely, and, in\n_developing_ itself, produces all that you see around you.\"\n\nWe quote Cousin in preference to others on account of his\nlucidity of style and expressions; but every one acquainted with\nthe systems of the German pantheists knows that their answer to\nthe problem of multiplicity is substantially the same. We refer\nthe reader, in confirmation of our assertion, to the excellent\nlectures on the systems of the German Pantheists, of Heinrich\nMoritz Chalyb\u00e4us, professor at the University of Kiel.\n\nNow, does the answer resolve the problem? Does it really\nconciliate unity with multiplicity in the Infinite? Does it\nreally maintain intact the two terms of the problem? We think\nthat it does not, and maintain that it destroys both terms of the\nproblem. The leading idea and principle of Pantheism is that\nunity is _becoming_ multiplicity.\n\nIt is an existence in a continual _ex-sistere_ in an\nemergence and manifestation. [Footnote 165]\n\n [Footnote 165: Chalyb\u00e4us' Lectures, etc.]\n\nNow, who can fail to perceive that if unity is such, that is,\nunity when it is merely potential, when it has only the power of\nbecoming, of passing into multiplicity, it is doubtless destroyed\nas soon as it passes from the power into the act; or, in other\nwords, it is destroyed as unity when it becomes multiplicity?\nStrip this idea of a potential unity becoming actual\nmultiplicity, strip it of all the logical phantasmagoria with\nwhich it has been adorned, especially by pantheists of the German\nschool, which phantasmagoria can only impose upon the simple, and\nyou can see, as clearly as that two and two make four, that the\nwhole thing amounts to nothing but to this; that unity vanishes\nas soon as it becomes multiplicity. It is with a special\nintention that we have made use of the simile of the silkworm.\nThis poor creature too, like the unity of the pantheists, has an\ninstinct given it by God, of unfolding and developing itself, and\nthe effect of its operation is the silk which serves to set off\nthe beauty of man. But unfortunately, the process of development\nexhausts the little creature; for when it is completed, the poor\ncreature dies, and its development is its death, and its\nproduction is its shroud; yet, it has this advantage over the\nunity of the pantheists, that its remains continue to exist,\nwhereas their unity evaporates completely in multiplicity. To\nspeak more seriously, it is perfectly evident to every mind, that\nthe answer of the pantheists destroys the very problem it\nundertakes to solve. Unity is unity so long as it is a potency, a\npower of becoming; it vanishes as soon as it becomes\nmultiplicity. Add to this, that their unity, to be infinite, must\nremain undefined, potential, and in the possibility of becoming;\nsuch being their idea of the Infinite.\n{569}\nFor which reason they eliminate from it every limitation, all\nindividuality, all thought, all consciousness. The natural\nconsequence of this principle must be that it remains infinite so\nlong as it is wrapped up in its vagueness and indefiniteness. Let\nit come forth from its indefiniteness, let it become definite,\nlimited, concrete, and its infinity together with its unity is\ngone. It evaporates in the finite forms it assumes. On the other\nhand, let it remain absorbed in its indefiniteness, in its\nabstractiveness, and consequently, in its infinity, and\nmultiplicity can no longer be conceived. It is absurd then to\nspeak of multiplicity in the Infinite of the Pantheists, since it\nis clear that, when it assumes multiplicity, it can no longer be\neither infinite or one; and when it remains infinite it cannot be\nconceived as multiple. All this we have said, conceding the\npremises of pantheism. But we have, in the first article,\ndemonstrated the following principles:\n\n1st. If the pantheists take their unity in the sense of a pure\nabstraction, a transient act, the elements of which do not last\none single instant, it is in that case an absolute nonentity, an\nutter unreality, and then it is useless to speak of multiplicity,\nsince _ex nihilo nihil fit_.\n\n2d. Or, they suppose their unity as something really existing,\nhaving the power of gradual development, and in that case we have\ndemonstrated that such a being could not develop itself without\nthe aid of a foreign being.\n\nThe premises of pantheism then being false, the solution of the\nproblem falls to the ground independently of its intrinsic value,\nif it have any, which we have shown it has not.\n\nPantheism cannot answer the problem of multiplicity. How can we\nthen attain to its solution?\n\nWe answer: the Catholic Church resolves it, giving such an\nexplanation of it as the finite and limited intellect of man may\nreasonably expect. For the Catholic Church does not pretend to\ngive such a solution of the problem as to enable us thoroughly to\nunderstand it. She proceeds from two premises, to wit, that God\nis infinite, and that man, necessarily distinct from God, is\nfinite, and therefore endowed only with finite intelligence. That\nthese premises are true, appears evident from the demonstration\nwe have already given, in which we have shown that the\npantheistic idea of the infinite is the idea of finite being when\nit is not taken as meaning only an abstraction, a pure\nmathematical point. The ideas of the infinite and the finite\nexist, and therefore there must be also objects corresponding to\nthese ideas. We shall return to this subject in a following\nnumber.\n\nFrom these two ideas of the finite and the Infinite, it follows\nthat man can never comprehend God; or, in other words, that the\nintelligence of man, with the relation to God as its object, must\nfind mysteries or truths above and beyond its capacity. For, as\nit is absurd to shut up a body of large size in a body of much\nmore limited size, supposing the present conditions of bodies not\nsuspended, so it is absurd to suppose that the intellect of man,\nlimited and finite, could grasp or take in God, who is infinite.\nWe are aware of the opposition which is made by many to mysteries\nor super-intelligible truths; but we insist upon it, that all\nsuch opposition would vanish, if men would study philosophy more\ndeeply and more assiduously. Why, a real philosopher, one who has\nsounded the depths of creation, and plunged into the profundity\nof the great ideas of being, of substance, of the absolute, of\nthe infinite, the finite and the relative, into the ideas of\neternity, of immensity, of immutability, of space and time, into\nthe ideas of cause, of action, of movement; one who has entered\ninto the labyrinth of his soul, and tried to catch the flying\nphenomena of its life, and to analyze all the fibres of its\nconsciousness; such a one meets, at every step, with mysteries,\nand the more he digs into them, the profounder and the wider is\nthe abyss lying at his feet.\n{570}\nIf we should meet with a man denying mysteries, and desirous to\nengage in a discussion, we would beg of him to go and first study\nthe alphabet of philosophy.\n\nThe problem, then, proposing the reconciliation of unity with\nmultiplicity in the Infinite, is held by the Catholic Church as a\nmystery, a truth which cannot be thoroughly understood by the\nhuman mind. But, notwithstanding all this, the solution which\nCatholic doctrine affords, though a mystery, is clear enough to\nbe perceived, and distinct enough to make us see through the\nagreement of the two terms of the problem; so that, through the\nhelp of the Catholic Church, we shall have all the light thrown\nupon the problem in question which man may reasonably expect,\nseeing that the object of the problem is the Infinite, and the\nintellect apprehending it only limited and finite.\n\n ----------\n\n New Publications.\n\n\n Philip II. Of Spain.\n By Charles Gayarr\u00e9.\n Author of the _History of Louisiana under the French,\n Spanish, and American Domination_.\n With an Introductory Letter by George Bancroft.\n New York. 1866. W. J. Widdleton.\n 8vo, pp. viii. iv. 366.\n\nMr. Gayarr\u00e9 is not unknown among American authors. Of Spanish\norigin, born and nurtured in Louisiana, he has connected his name\nwith the history of that State by his devotion to its annals.\nLaborious research has enabled him to give to the world three\nvolumes, comprising the history of Louisiana, under French,\nSpanish, and American domination. Unfortunately, the first volume\nwas taken up rather as a romance of history; and in the treatment\nof his subject imagination is allowed a scope that the stricter\nschools of history deny that faculty. Imbued to no small extent\nwith the petty philosophism of the worst age of France, he seldom\nfails to give the Church, where it enters his historic paintings,\ndarker colors than truth will warrant.\n\nHis present work is not a life of Philip II. It is a series of\nstudies, not complete enough, indeed, to form a character of that\ngreat and singular ruler, who made Spain a great power in Europe,\nbut failed to bequeath to his successors the ability and\nstatecraft that enabled him to maintain the influence of the\npeninsula in European affairs.\n\nMr. Gayarr\u00e9's studies are disconnected, involve repetitions, and\nfail to give us the salient points which mainly need discussion\nand examination. He begins with the death of Philip; then treats\nof his religious policy; his love of art; his reign in general;\nAntonio Perez; the Cortes during his reign; literature. The point\nof view may be inferred from Mr. Bancroft's remark, that the\npresent work is written \"with a mind superior to the influences\nof superstition\"--an idea we have already expressed in somewhat\ndifferent terms, vocabularies differing slightly, as Saul of\nTarsus notes, in giving the estimate made by the most civilized\nand enlightened people of his day in regard to the cross.\n\n{571}\n\nPhilip as ruler of Spain, Portugal, and the Indies; Philip and\nthe Low Countries; Philip in his relations with foreign\ncountries; Philip and the Inquisition in Spain; Philip and his\nfamily, here were indeed themes to discuss, to examine by the aid\nof the soundest authorities. Had Mr. Gayarr\u00e9 done this in true\nhistoric spirit, his work, whatever the judgment at which he\narrived, would have been of real value to every thinking man. As\nit is, we cannot say that we see any necessity or utility for the\nwork. In Prescott there is at least a complete picture and an\narray of authority. Gayarr\u00e9 gives neither, and can scarcely be\nread without obtaining false views--without the facts which in\nPrescott often enable you to see the fallacy of statements based\nreally on erroneous arguments.\n\n ----\n\n Recollections Of A Busy Life.\n By Horace Greeley.\n New York. J. B. Ford and Company. 1868.\n\nThe autobiographical papers, which compose the larger part of\nthis volume, were originally published in a weekly journal of\nthis city, and have probably attracted the attention of many\nthousands of readers. They are now issued in a permanent form,\nunder Mr. Greeley's personal supervision, and will take their\nplace among the standard works of American biography.\n\nWhatever may be said or thought of the religious and political\nprinciples from time to time professed and advocated by the\n\"Editor of _The Tribune_,\" no man can deny to him the\ncharacter of an earnest, outspoken, indefatigable supporter of\nwhat, at the moment, he believes to be just and right. The manner\nin which he braved a public opinion thoroughly tyrannical, both\nat the opening and close of the late war, sufficiently attests\nhis independence of spirit and his fidelity to the dictates of\nhis own judgment.\n\nOne interest, however, attaches to Mr. Greeley, chiefly as a man\nwho, from the humblest beginnings, has raised himself, by his own\nexertions, to one of the most influential and honorable positions\nin this country. The story of his projects and reverses, of his\nperseverance and his triumphs, is well told in the volume before\nus, and will serve to encourage and refresh the hearts of many\nyoung men, whose struggles after influence and honest wealth are\nmeeting with continual disappointment.\n\nIn the hurry of preparing this work for the press, Mr. Greeley\nhas fallen into an historical error which should certainly be\ncorrected. In his opening chapter he informs us that, in 1641,\nduring the insurrection which occurred in the province of Ulster\nin Ireland, against the British power, \"40,000 Protestant\nsettlers were speedily massacred, with small regard to age or\nsex.\" The number who actually suffered in that \"rebellion\" has\nbeen variously estimated by historians not favorable toward\nIreland or her people. Sir John Temple fixes it at 150,000;\nMilton, in his _Eiconoclastes_, at 154,000 for one province\nalone; Clarendon puts the number at 40,000. Mr. Greeley follows\nClarendon, but with equal reliability he might have taken Temple\nor Milton for his authority. He might also have stated with the\nformer, that \"Hundreds of the ghosts of Protestants, that were\ndrowned by the rebels at Portadown Bridge, were seen in the\nriver, bolt upright, and were heard to cry out for revenge on\nthese rebels. One of these ghosts was seen with hands lifted up,\nand standing in that posture from December 29th to the latter end\nof the following Lent.\" For additional testimony about the\npresence of the ghosts, he might have called upon Dr. Maxwell,\nthe Protestant Bishop of Kilmore. But if instead of relying upon\nsuch ghostly authorities, Mr. Greeley had consulted a little\nwork, entitled _Memoir of Ireland, Native and Saxon_,\nwritten by Daniel O'Connell, and published by Greeley & McElrath\nin 1844, he would have seen that, in 1641, there were less than\n200,000 Protestants in the entire island, and that the number\nmassacred (?) in its most northern province failed to reach any\nthousands whatever. He would also have discovered that in these\ninsurrections it was the Catholics who suffered, and not\nProtestants, as, for instance, at Island Magee.\n\n{572}\n\nMr. Greeley is too wise and liberal a man wilfully to repeat so\nstale a calumny, and he is not so inconsistent as to contradict,\nin 1868, the statements of a work which he deemed worthy of\npublic confidence in 1844. While, therefore, we point out the\nerror, we impute no malice to the writer; to whom, in view of his\nconstant activity, some inaccuracies may be pardoned. But the\ninjury inflicted by his mistake is not lessened by its\nthoughtlessness, and the least that can be done to remedy the\nevil is to correct the error in the next edition, should one be\never issued.\n\n ----\n\n The Ideal In Art.\n By H. Taine.\n Translated by J. Durand.\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nThe object of these two lectures, first delivered by M. Taine to\nthe students of the School of Fine Arts in Paris, and now\npublished in an American translation by Messrs. Leypoldt & Holt,\nis to erect a standard of criticism in art, independent of the\ntaste and fancy of the individual critic, and so based upon\nestablished principles as to be worthy of the name of \"a law.\" To\nour mind, the distinguished author has approached, if not\nattained, success. The fundamental rule with which he starts,\ndistinguishes between that mechanical skill by which the\nproduction of the artist is made a faithful representation of his\nown ideal, and that artistic genius by which the loftiness and\ngrandeur of the ideal is itself determined. He then proceeds to\nmeasure the ideal itself, and, upon the purity and elevation of\nthis, bases the standing of the artist and the merit of his\nworks.\n\nA complete sketch of M. Taine's system would necessitate a\nreproduction of the work itself. In his volume there are no\nwasted words; and while, perhaps, not altogether intelligible to\nthe utterly unlearned in art, the treatise which he gives us will\nserve to stimulate the reader to an inquiry which cannot fail to\nimprove his taste in literature as well as in the peculiar domain\nwhich it professes to explore.\n\nWe especially welcome this volume at this time, because of the\nopportunities which are now afforded for a study of the\nprinciples of M. Taine, in connection with the great schools of\nItalian art themselves. In the Jarves Collection, now at Yale\nCollege, may be found paintings of representative masters, from\nthe dawn of Italian art to the commencement of its decline.\nHundreds of visitors have examined this treasure-house of\npainting, and thousands more should follow their example. And we\nventure to suggest that a careful study of the work before us\nwill render, at least in the case of cultivated persons, what\nwould otherwise have been a mere visit of curiosity, a most\nvaluable lesson on that ideal in art in which the true artists of\nevery age have given the measure of their own genius and the\npledge of their artistic immortality.\n\n ----\n\n The Illustrated Catholic Family Almanac,\n for the United States, for the Year of our Lord 1869.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.\n\nThis is the first attempt by any Catholic publisher in this\ncountry to get up an Almanac suitable for Catholic families. It\ncontains a complete calendar for the year 1869, with a variety of\nother matter both useful and entertaining. The illustrations,\nnineteen in number, are excellent. We are glad to be able to\nstate that it is the intention of the Society to issue such an\nalmanac every year, and we hope that this first attempt may meet\nwith the success which it so well deserves.\n\nIt should be found in every Catholic household in the United\nStates. Almanacs have become almost a necessity, and are looked\nfor as regularly as the new year. It is, then, highly important\nthat an almanac, to say the least, should contain nothing\nobjectionable to morals, and this cannot be said of too many\nfrequently met with, which are only mere advertising mediums for\nquack medicines, etc. We hope _The Catholic Family Almanac_\nwill henceforth supersede all such trashy productions--which no\nfather of a family should allow to endanger the faith and\nmorality of his children. The excuse heretofore urged for their\npresence in the house, that there was no Catholic family almanac\nto be had, is no longer valid.\n\n----\n\n{573}\n\n Criminal Abortion: Its Nature, its Evidence, and its Law.\n By Horatio R. Storer, M.D., LL.B., and Franklin Fiske Heard.\n Boston: Little, Brown & Company. 1868.\n\nThis subject is here brought before the public in a manner\nproportioned to its importance; and Dr. Storer, for his\nindefatigable efforts in ferreting out the statistics of this\ncrime, and his outspoken honest opinions, deserves the thanks of\nthe American people. The evidence adduced in support of the\nauthor's assertions is so conclusive that the question suggests\nitself, Whither are we drifting? In a note on page 74, the moral\neffect of the Catholic religion is shown in preventing this\n\"slaughter of the innocents,\" but the author fails to suggest the\ngeneral dissemination of the religion throughout the country as a\nmeans of checking this rapidly growing evil.\n\nBook II. gives ample extracts from the Common and State Laws on\nthe subject, as well as quotations \"from English reports, which\nare not generally accessible even to the legal profession in this\ncountry,\" making the work an indispensable addition to the\nlibrary of every lawyer and physician in the country.\n\n ----\n\n The Knowledge And Love Of Jesus Christ.\n By the Rev. Father St. Jure, S.J.\n New York: P. O'Shea, 39 Barclay street.\n\nSt. Jure was one of the best spiritual writers in France of the\nearly part of the seventeenth century, and this is one of his\nbest works. It is full of solid thought and learning, as well as\nof the purest and warmest piety. I cannot, therefore, be too\nhighly recommended as a book for spiritual reading, well adapted\nto the wants of the most intelligent and highly educated persons,\nand approved by the judgment of the most enlightened men in the\nchurch for two centuries. The translation was made by the\naccomplished authoress of the _Life of Catharine Macaulay_,\nand the publisher has issued it in a very good style.\n\n ----\n\n O'Shea's Popular Juvenile Library.\n Second Series. 12vols. Illustrated.\n New York: P. O'Shea. 1868.\n\nThis series is an acceptable addition to our rapidly increasing\nlist of Catholic \"juveniles.\" The titles of the volumes it\ncontains are as follows:\n The Generous Enemy, and other stories;\n Anna's Vacation, and other stories;\n The Beggar's Will, and other stories;\n Bertrand du Guesclin;\n Kasem the Miser, and other stories;\n The Blind Grandfather, and other stories;\n Trifles;\n The True Son, and other stories;\n Marian's History;\n Patience Removes Mountains, and other tales;\n The Best Dowry, and other tales.\n\n ----\n\n Rural Poems,\n by William Barnes.\n Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1869.\n\nThese poems have received unqualified praise by English critics\nin the principal literary reviews. It is said of them that they\nare \"in a high degree pleasant and novel;\" \"invested with a\nsimple beauty,\" \"clothed in homely, healthy language,\" etc. We\nmight, and do, say the same of the renowned Melodies of Mother\nGoose, whose \"Poems\" the greater part of the present collection\nvery much resembles. Who will not be forcibly reminded of \"Ride a\ncock-horse to Banbury Cross\" by the following verses?\n\n \"Bright was the morning and bright was the moon,\n Bright was the forenoon and bright was the noon,\n Bright was the road down the sunshiny ridge,\n Bright was the water and bright was the bridge:\n Bright in the light were two eyes in my sight,\n On the road that I took up to Brenbury tower.\n The eyes at my side were my Fanny's, my bride,\n The day of my wedding, my wedding's gay hour.\n\n{574}\n\nWe think that if the author had been an American, the English\ncritics would have laughed at him. The book is elegantly\npublished, with good illustrations, and would make a nice holiday\npresent for children.\n\n ----\n\n Beginning German.\n Lessons introductory to the Study of the German\n Language. With a Vocabulary, Select\n Phrases for German Conversation, and\n Reading Lessons.\n By Dr. Emil Otto, Professor of Modern Languages and\n Lecturer at the University of Heidelberg.\n First American Edition. With additional reading\n matter and notes, arranged by L. Pylodet.\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nDr. Otto deserves a great deal of praise for the attention that\nhe has shown to the wants of the student. In the above work he\nhas carefully collected all the necessary matter for the\ncommencement of a systematic study of the German.\n\nThe book has been prepared for young persons; but contrary to the\nusual method, Dr. Otto does not overtask the memory of the\nlearner with endless vocabularies, which serve only to hide the\nimportant parts. He first explains the alphabet, and also German\naccentuation and punctuation. Next he gives a thorough\n_drill_ upon each of the parts of speech, and by the aid of\nfoot-notes, gradually places before the student the salient\npoints of the German grammar. After which comes select phrases\nand reading lessons.\n\nThe vocabularies in nearly all French and German grammars are\nmade up of the most foolish and impracticable sentences that\ncould possibly be invented; and Dr. Otto cannot put forth the\nclaim of originality for his selection of sentences.\n\nThe \"partitive sense\" and the possessive case create an immense\namount of confusion in the minds of those who plan German\nmethods, and they accordingly attempt to perpetuate their trouble\nby filling their exercises with childish and improbable examples.\nDr. Otto forms no exception to the general custom. The rules\ngiven at the bottom of the pages in regard to declensions, are\nspread over so many pages that they will not be of much\nassistance, and the student will be obliged to turn at once to\nthe synopsis of German Grammar, which the book also contains, if\nhe desires to thoroughly understand this part of the German.\n\nThe reading lessons are simple and well selected; but there is no\nnecessity for the abundant notes which are appended.\n\nOn the whole, this is a very excellent work: being far in advance\nof the German text-books that are so much used in the schools of\nthis city, by serving to impress upon the minds of the learner a\ntrue regard for the grammatical formation of their own language.\n\n ----\n\n The Little Gypsy.\n By Elie Sauvage.\n Illustrated by Lorenz Fr\u00f6lich.\n Translated from the French by I. M. Lyster.\n Boston: Roberts Brothers. Pp. 133. 1868.\n\nThis is a charming little story--one that we can heartily\nrecommend, both from its intrinsic merits and the beautiful\nmanner in which it is got up, as a suitable Christmas present.\n\n ----\n\n Verses On Various Occasions.\n Boston. Published by Patrick Donahoe. 1868.\n\nOn the reception of the English edition of this exquisite volume,\nwe called the attention of our readers to the true Catholic\nbeauty and fervor of the poems which it contains. The edition by\nMr. Donahoe is elegantly printed on toned paper, and faultlessly\nbound. We can think of no more appropriate book for a Christmas\ngift than this.\n\n ----\n\n The Calamities And Quarrels Of Authors:\n with some Inquiries respecting\n their Moral and Literary Characters,\n and Memoirs for our Literary History.\n By Isaac Disraeli.\n Edited by his Son, the Right Hon. B. Disraeli.\n New York: W. J. Widdleton. 2 vols. pp. 349, 411. 1868.\n\n{575}\n\nThese two volumes complete an edition in nine volumes of the\nwritings of the elder Disraeli. His works are too well known to\nneed, even if the limited space at our disposal this month\npermitted, an extended notice.\n\n ----\n\n Twentieth Annual Report Of The Regents Of The University Of\n The State Of New York, On The Condition Of The State Cabinet\n Of Natural History, And The Historical And Antiquarian\n Collection Annexed Thereto.\n Albany: Van Benthuysen and Sons' Printing House. 1868.\n\nThe study of Natural History is in its infancy in the United\nStates, yet it is encouraging to know that there are a few\nearnest men who continue their investigations in spite of the\nalmost universal indifference upon the subject. It is not so much\nbecause there are no men of science to determine the species of\nour fauna, as that there is a general lack of attention to these\nquestions. Perhaps one of the most gratifying features of the\npresent Report is the indication of a newly-awakened interest\namong our citizens. A large number of types have been presented\nto the Museum by private collectors; among the more interesting\nof these is the skeleton of a Mastodon found recently at Cohoes.\nThis animal has been imbedded in such an unusual stratum of rock,\nand in such a peculiar manner, that the learned Curator of the\nCabinet believes it will afford a valuable guide in determining\nits natural history and geological relations. The Smithsonian\nInstitute has generously presented more than two thousand\nspecimens to the collection of shells. These, as will be seen\nfrom the catalogues given, are of great value, because they\nembrace almost exclusively species from distant quarters of the\nglobe, and which consequently can only be obtained through some\nState institution.\n\nHowever, the zealous efforts of the Curator and Regents seem to\nbe much impeded by the want of proper cases for the display and\narrangement of specimens. A similar difficulty was experienced by\nthe Society of Natural History in this city; they at one time\npossessed a large and interesting collection of insects, which\nwere packed in boxes and stored in the basement of the Medical\nCollege of the New York University. The destruction of that\nbuilding by fire has relieved the officers of the society from\nany further trouble concerning them. It is to be hoped that a\nsimilar fate does not await the State Collection, but that the\nmodest request of the trustees for a small appropriation will be\ngranted at the present session of the Legislature. The catalogue\nof books scarcely numbers a hundred volumes, and does not merit\nthe name of a library. This is a serious obstacle in the way of\nthose who are charged with the duty of classifying the specimens\nsent to them, but one which the Regents of the Cabinet anticipate\nto see gradually removed.\n\nThe statement of the necessities and financial condition of the\nState Cabinet is followed by an essay of Prof. W. D. Wilson, of\nHobart College, on Local Climatology. This is chiefly interesting\nbecause of a new theory accounting for the cold weather of\nwinter. Of course, one of the principal reasons why the\ntemperature is lower in winter than in summer is because the days\nof winter are several hours shorter. But the sun's heating power\nis also determined by its altitude. Herschel and Pouillet have\ndemonstrated that a large proportion of the sun's rays are\nabsorbed by passing through the atmosphere, or rather by the\nmoisture in the atmosphere, so that only about seventy-five per\ncent of its heat reaches the earth. Hence, it is evident that the\ntemperature will vary, not only for places of different\nlatitudes, but also at the same place at different seasons of the\nyear, and during the different hours of the day. Still, the mere\nfact of the absorption of heat does not explain the difference of\ntemperature. Heat absorbed always increases the temperature of\nthe absorbing body, except when the heat becomes latent by\npassing from a solid to a fluid, or from a fluid to a gaseous\nstate.\n{576}\nAs an atmosphere does not change the form of the heat, it would\nitself be increased in temperature, and consequently the\ninfluence of the heat would be felt in precisely the same degree\nas if it were conducted directly to the earth. But this\ndifficulty is removed by Prof. Wilson, who claims that the\natmosphere has the same power of reflecting as of absorbing heat;\nhence the heat is never transmitted beyond the outer boundary of\nour atmosphere, but is immediately reflected into space, and\nloses its influence upon anything within the power of our\nobservation. The decrease of heat has long been known to depend\ngreatly upon the sun's altitude. It varies with what is commonly\ntermed the sine of the sun's altitude. It is worthy to be\nremarked, therefore, that on this theory the decrease of heat\nwill depend upon the angle at which the sun's rays strike the\natmosphere, and hence it must always, as in fact it does,\ncoincide with the sun's height.\n\nThe result of Prof. Hall's labor for the year is seen in several\nelaborate notices upon the Palaeontology of the State. Those who\nfeel interested in this enticing department of Natural History\nwill take pleasure in the clear analysis of certain families and\ngenera described in the Report. The effort to aid beginners in\nthis study, as seen in the monogram upon the Graptolites, is\nparticularly commendable. These sciences cannot make any\nsubstantial progress until they are brought down to the capacity\nof learned men engaged in other pursuits, because they all depend\nupon the careful observation of phenomena which require the\nunited attention of many individuals. Hence, all domestic\ncontributions to the determining of the species of our own fauna\nshould be sufficiently elementary to be understood by amateurs in\nthe science. And to the want of such works as these may fairly be\nattributed the fact, that many young men begin to investigate the\nvarious branches of natural science, but very few persevere.\n\nThe volume is increased in value by a number of well-executed\nplates, which appear to be accurate copies of the specimens in\nProf. Hall's collection. It shows, at least, that he recognizes\ntheir importance in conveying scientific knowledge. A figure\nskilfully drawn will frequently determine a species in a moment's\ncomparison, which would have cost many hours' careful study of\nthe descriptions of even the most accurate and painstaking\nobserver.\n\n ----\n\n Beginner's French Reader.\n Short and Easy Pieces in Prose and Verse,\n with a complete Vocabulary.\n Arranged by L. Pylodet.\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt.\n\nThis little book seems to be very well adapted to fully carry out\nthe end indicated by its title-page.\n\n ----\n\nMESSRS. JOHN MURPHY & Co. have just published a small volume\ncontaining the life of _John M. Costelloe, or The Beauty of\nVirtue, exemplified in an American Youth_. The author simply\nproposes to lay before the reader \"the virtues of a young man who\npassed seventeen years of his short life in the peaceful\nseclusion of his home, and the remaining two and a half in the\nquiet routine of a college, and who, therefore, could have\npractised only what St. Francis of Sales calls 'little virtues.'\"\n\n ----\n\n Books Received.\n\nFrom CHARLES SCRIBNER & Co., New York:\n\n Madame Th\u00e9r\u00e8se; or, The Volunteers of '98.\n By MM. Erckman-Chatrian.\n Translated from the thirteenth edition,\n with ten full-page illustrations.\n\n\nFrom PATRICK DONAHOE, Boston:\n\n Le Petit Cat\u00e9chisme de Quebec.\n\n The Farleyes of Farleye: or, Faithful and True.\n By Rev. Thomas J. Potter,\n All Hallows College, Dublin.\n\n\nFrom LEE & SHEPARD, Boston:\n\n Dr. Howell's Family.\n By Mrs. H. B. Goodwin.\n\n Hillsboro Farms.\n By Sophia Dickinson Cobb.\n\n The Mimic Stage.\n A series of Dramas, Comedies, Burlesques, and\n Farces, for Public Exhibitions and Private Theatricals.\n By George M. Baker.\n\n\nFrom LEYPOLDT & HOLT, New York:\n\n Madame de Beaupr\u00e9.\n By Mrs. C. Jenkin.\n\n\nFrom JOHN MURPHY & Co., Baltimore:\n\n The Purgatorian Consoler.\n A manual of prayers, containing a selection of devotional\n exercises originally prepared for the use of the members of the\n Purgatorian Archconfraternity; enlarged and adapted to general\n use by a Redemptorist Father. Published with the approbation of\n the Most Reverend the Archbishop of Baltimore.\n\n The Visitation Manual:\n A collection of prayers and instructions, compiled according to\n the Spiritual Directory and Spirit of St. Francis de Sales,\n founder of the Religious Order of the Visitation of B. V. Mary.\n Published with the approbation of the Most Reverend Archbishop\n of Baltimore. 1869.\n\n ----------\n{577}\n\n THE CATHOLIC WORLD,\n\n Vol. VIII, No. 47. February, 1869.\n\n\n Cardinal Ximenes.\n\nThe greatness of Cardinal Ximenes has weathered the storms of\ntime. It has spread far beyond the people by whom it was first\nrecognized and proclaimed. All Europe has done it homage, and the\nwhole civilized world hails it with gratitude and joy. It is a\nsmall thing in comparison to excel as a prelate, a statesman, a\ngeneral, or a man of letters; but to shine foremost in each and\nall of these capacities, as did Ximenes, to make a lasting\nimpression on the age in a fourfold character, and to mould anew\nthe destinies of a nation in virtue of it, have been the lot of\nfew, and scarcely the ambition of any. Ximenes de Cisneros is\npart of the Spaniard's nationality. They admire, they love him,\nthey boast of him; and so lately as April, 1857, they assembled\nin vast numbers in the city of Alcal\u00e1 to deposit his remains in\nthe Iglesia Magistral, just 340 years after his decease. The\nprecious memoirs left by Gomez have never been employed with\ngreater effect than by Dr. Von Hefele, who, from these--the\nbasis of all lives of Ximenes--and from a variety of collateral\nsources, has produced a complete and most valuable history of the\nillustrious cardinal.\n\nLike many eminent prelates in the Catholic Church, Ximenes was a\nself-made man. He was born at Tordelaguna--a small town--in\n1436. His father, though of noble descent, was comparatively\npoor, and collected tithes for the king. His mother likewise came\nof a valiant stock decayed in fortune; so that Ximenes enjoyed on\nboth sides the advantage of gentle blood. From an early age he\nwas destined for the Church; at Alcal\u00e1 he was well schooled, and\nat Salamanca he studied canon and civil law, theology, and the\nScriptures. It was here that his love of biblical lore first\ndisplayed itself, and gave promise of that abundant growth which\nafterward made the name of Ximenes famous in the literary world.\nPoverty was his good angel. It urged him to exertion, and he\nsupported himself at the university by giving lessons. Then,\nhaving taken his bachelor's degree in canon and civil law, he\nboldly turned his face toward Rome, and resolved to better his\nfortune, if possible, in the heart of Christendom.\n{578}\nTwice on the way he was plundered by robbers, and but for the\nkindness of a former school-fellow would have been stopped at\nAix, in Provence, and compelled to return, _minus_ money,\nclothes, and horse. To Rome, however, he came, and worked\nsteadily in the ecclesiastical courts during six years, till his\nfather died, and he was recalled to Spain to perform a parent's\npart to his bereaved family. Happily he carried in his pocket an\n_expectative_ letter, by which the pope granted him the\nfirst vacant benefice in the diocese of Toledo. The right of\nbestowing benefices in this manner had often been questioned,\noften resisted; but with such controversies Ximenes had nothing\nto do. It was not till the Council of Trent that _Gratia\nExpectativae_ were finally suppressed; [Footnote 166] and it\nwas clearly his interest to obtain a living from the holy father,\nif he could, according to established precedent. Uzeda soon fell\nvacant, and though Ximenes laid claim to it immediately, Carillo,\nthe archbishop, was in no degree inclined to yield it to him. The\nmore Ximenes pressed his claim, the more stoutly Carillo\nresisted, and the result was that the claimant, though backed by\npapal authority, soon found himself a prisoner in the very parish\nof which he sought to be pastor. Nothing could break his iron\nresolution, and being removed to the fortress of Santorcaz, he\nthere spent six years in confinement, till the archbishop,\nwearied by his firm and constant refusal to forego his claim, at\nlength yielding the point, restored him to liberty, and confirmed\nhim in possession of the benefice.\n\n [Footnote 166: Sess. xxiv. cap. 19.]\n\nHis constant study of the Scriptures could not escape\nobservation, and he was often referred to as an authority in\nHebrew and Chaldee. Being made vicar of the diocese of Sig\u00fcenza,\nand agent for the estates of a nobleman who had been taken\nprisoner by the Moors, Ximenes sighed for retirement, and entered\nas a novice a convent of the Franciscan order. But his interior\nlife was still disturbed. Numbers resorted to him for counsel and\ninstruction. He prayed to be sent to some more lonely retreat,\nand accordingly found his home in a small convent near Toledo,\ncalled after our Lady of Casta\u00f1ar. It stood in the midst of a\nforest of chestnuts, and here, like an anchorite of old, he built\na hermitage and supported life on herbs and roots, with water\nfrom the neighboring rill. Though a scourge was in his hand and a\nhair-shirt on his body, the Bible he so prized was before him,\nangels surrounded him, and the Holy Ghost established within him\na reign of serenity and light.\n\nAccording to the rule of the Franciscans, he was, ere long, again\nremoved. He became guardian of the convent of Salzeda, and it was\nhere, in his fifty-sixth year, that his career, so far as it\nconcerns history, began. A confessor was required for the devout\nand beautiful Queen Isabella, and Cardinal Mendoza, who had been\nBishop of Sig\u00fcenza, and knew Ximenes well, recommended him as the\nfitting person to guide her conscience. Being summoned to court\non pretence of business, the Franciscan recluse was introduced,\nas it were by accident, into the royal presence. Isabella was\ncharmed by his candor, his modesty, and native dignity. In vain\nhe declined the office for which he was designed. The queen would\ntake no refusal, but consented to his residing still in his\nmonastery, away from the splendor and temptations of a court. He\nstrove to avoid interference in politics, but Isabella so much\nthe more applied for his advice in the affairs of state.\n{579}\nThus influence over others is often given to those whose only aim\nis to acquire the mastery over themselves. Not long after being\nmade confessor to the queen, Ximenes was elected Provincial of\nthe Franciscan order for Old and New Castile. He made his\nvisitations on foot, begged his way like any other of his\nbrethren, and often lived on raw roots. The order had relaxed its\noriginal strictness, and was divided into _Conventuals_ and\n_Observantines_, of whom the latter only adhered to the\nletter and spirit of their founder's laws. The report, therefore,\nwhich the provincial had to make to his royal mistress was\nanything but favorable, and he consequently became himself an\nobject of calumny and dislike to those whose vices he sought to\ncorrect. Many of the _Conventuals_ who would not reform were\nejected from their sanctuaries by his order, and his conflict\nwith evil was silently and surely preparing him for the high post\nof Archbishop of Toledo, Primate of Spain, and Chancellor of\nCastile. This see had generally been filled by one of noble\nbirth, and Ferdinand was anxious to bestow it on his natural son,\nAlfonso, Bishop of Saragossa. But Isabella was strong in her\nresolve to promote Ximenes. On Good Friday, 1495, she sent for\nher confessor, and placed a paper in his hands. It was addressed\nby his holiness Alexander VI., \"To our venerable brother,\nFrancisco Ximenes de Cisneros, Archbishop-elect of Toledo.\" As he\nread this the friar turned pale. \"It cannot be meant for me,\" he\nsaid, and abruptly left the apartment, dropping the packet.\n\"Come, brother,\" he exclaimed to his companion, \"we must be gone\nin haste.\" But the royal messengers overtook him on the road to\nOca\u00f1a, trudging along bravely in the noontide heat. He was flying\nfrom an archbishopric with 80,000 ducats a year, from power and\ninfluence second only to that of the king, and from towns and\nfortresses with numerous vassals. No arguments could induce him\nto accept these earthly goods. During six months he persisted in\nrefusing them, and yielded at last only in obedience to a command\nfrom the sovereign pontiff.\n\nHe was now in his sixtieth year. In October, 1495, he was\nsolemnly consecrated in presence of the two sovereigns, and when,\nafter the ceremony, he came to do them homage, he said: \"I come\nto kiss the hands of your majesties, not because they have raised\nme to the first see in Spain, but because I hope they will assist\nme in supporting the burden which they have placed on my\nshoulders.\" Ximenes was, on the whole, the model of a prelate;\nand accordingly we see in him modesty and self-confidence\nsingularly combined. In the well-balanced mind they react upon\neach other and produce each other. Hence, humility is the source\nof moral power. No silver adorned Ximenes's table, no ornaments\nhung on his walls. His garment was the habit of St. Francis, his\nfood was coarse, his journeys were made on foot or on a mule's\nback, and his palace was turned into a cloister. But many persons\ncavilled at this austerity and ascribed it to spiritual pride.\nThe pope thought it undesirable in the case of a primate of\nSpain, and exhorted Ximenes, by letter, to \"conform outwardly to\nthe dignity of his state of life in his dress, attendants, and\neverything else relating to the promotion of that respect due to\nhis authority.\"\n\n{580}\n\nIn private, however, Ximenes continued as mortified as before.\nThe hair-shirt was next his skin, and he mended with his own hand\nthe coarse garments concealed by the silks and furs of office.\nThe sumptuous bed, adorned with ivory, purple, and gold, which\nstood in the palace, was never used by him; he slept, though, his\nattendants knew it not, on the bare floor, and thus, by night and\nday, he kept up in his own person a ceaseless protest against the\nprevailing luxury of the times. He feared the seduction of\nwealth, and was ever on his guard against the temptations of his\nprincely domain, consisting of fifteen cities, besides many\nvillages and towns. But if any presumed on his unworldly habits,\nand thought that he must be pliant because he was devout, they\nwere soon disabused of their mistake. He refused, at the outset\nof his primacy, to make any appointments at the instance of great\nmen, and declared that he was willing at any time to return to\nhis convent and his beads; but that \"no personal considerations\nshould ever operate with him in distributing the honors of the\nChurch.\" Even the brother of Cardinal Mendoza was unable to\nobtain from Ximenes the confirmation of his appointment to the\ngovernorship of Cazorla, and his relations, highly incensed,\ncould gain no redress from the queen. Having thus established his\nown independence and freed himself from importunate suitors,\nXimenes saluted Don Pedro de Mendoza one day by the title of\n_Adelantado_ of Cazorla, saying that, as no suspicion of\nsinister influence could now attach to him, he was happy to\nrestore Don Pedro to a post for which he knew him to be\nqualified.\n\nIn the biographies of Gomez and Quintanilla, of Oviedo and\nRobles, Marsollier, Fl\u00e9chier, Baudier, Von Hefele, and Barrett, a\nnumber of such anecdotes may be found, illustrating the diocesan\nlife of Ximenes, his wonderful penetration, piety, and zeal. But\nthese, for the most part, we must pass over, and dwell rather on\nthose events in his career with which the history of his country\nis concerned. Several years had passed since the last Moorish\nking in Spain had been defeated and stripped of his dominions.\nThe genius of Washington Irving, the research of Prescott, and\nthe fancy of Southey and Bulwer have found full scope in\ndetailing the history of the war of Granada, the surprise of\nZahara, the exploits of the Marquis of Cadiz, the fierce\nresistance of the Moors, and the capture of Alhama. But the\nMoors, though conquered, had reason to be satisfied with the\nterms of the victors. They were allowed by treaty to retain their\nmosques and mode of worship, their property, laws, commerce, and\ncivil tribunals. They had some privileges of which even the\nSpaniards were deprived; and if, during the governorship of\nTendilla and the archbishopric of Talavera, the Moors of Granada\nwere brought under various Catholic influences, they could not\ncomplain of any force or severity being employed by those who\nsought to convert them. Talavera, indeed, whom Ximenes had\nsucceeded as confessor to the queen, was ceaseless in his efforts\nfor their salvation. He learned Arabic at an advanced age, and\nrequired his clergy also to do the same. He caused portions of\nthe Scriptures, Liturgy, and Catechism to be translated, and so\nrecommended the religion he professed by his consistent life and\namiable temper that Mohammedanism in Granada melted away before\nthe genial light of the gospel, and the Moors themselves came to\nlove and revere the Christian bishop, whom they called \"The Great\nAlfaqui,\" or Doctor.\n\n{581}\n\nThus far all was progressing hopefully, when, in 1499, Ximenes\nwas invited by the Catholic sovereigns to assist Talavera in his\nimportant mission. In addition to the means already employed,\nXimenes resorted to a large distribution of presents. \"In order,\"\nsays Von Hefele, \"that his instructions might make some\nimpression on their sensual minds, he did not hesitate to make\nthe Moorish priests and doctors agreeable presents, consisting\nchiefly of costly articles of dress and silks. For this object he\nencumbered the revenues of his see for many years.\" [Footnote\n167] Conversions followed in great numbers, and Ximenes baptized\nin one day 4000 persons. Many of the mosques were converted into\nchurches, and the sound of bells for Mass and vespers was heard\ncontinually in the midst of a Moslem population. But this success\nproduced a reaction. The Moors who were zealous for the false\nprophet raised a clamor against the archbishop and the\ngovernment. The most noisy were arrested by Ximenes's order, but\n\"in the height of his zeal he overstepped the bounds of the\ntreaty which the government had made with the Moors, by trying to\nimpose on the prisoners the obligation of receiving instruction\nfrom his chaplains in the Christian religion. Those who refused\nhe even punished very severely.\" [Footnote 168]\n\n [Footnote 167: Von Hefele, translated by Canon Dalton, p. 62.]\n\n [Footnote 168: _Id_. p. 64.]\n\nAmong those who were thus imprisoned was a noble Moor named\nZegri, who had distinguished himself in the recent wars. Being\nobliged to fast several days and wear heavy irons, he suddenly\ndeclared that Allah had appeared to him in a vision and commanded\nhim to embrace the Christian faith. Certain it is that during the\nremainder of his life he attached himself to Ximenes with\nconstant fidelity, and gave undeniable proofs of the sincerity of\nhis conversion.\n\nEncouraged by this signal success, Ximenes became more and more\naverse to dilatory measures. He believed that Providence designed\nthe extinction of Islamism in Spain, and that he should best\nco-operate with the divine will by prompt and energetic steps.\nSome thousand copies of the Koran and other religious books were\ndelivered up to him by the Moorish _alfaquis_, and committed\nto the flames in the public square. Works on medicine only\nescaped, and these were afterward placed in the library of the\nuniversity which he founded at Alcal\u00e1. The children of those\nChristians who had become renegades were taken from their parents\nand received into the Church, for Ximenes would not suffer a\ntreaty, which he perhaps considered too temporizing, to stand in\nthe way of rescuing souls from error and converting an entire\npeople.\n\nAbout the end of the year 1499, a terrible outbreak checked for a\ntime the progress of evangelization. Salzedo, the archbishop's\nmajor-domo, was sent by his master into the city with another\nservant and an officer of justice to seize the daughter of an\napostate from Christianity. The young woman, however, raised a\ncry against the violation of the treaty; the Moors rushed to her\naid; the officer of justice was killed by a stone; and the\nmajor-domo escaped a like fate only by secreting himself under\nthe bed of an old Moorish woman who offered him assistance. The\nAlbaycin, or Moslem quarter of the city, containing 5,000\ndwellings, rose in arms. The palace of Ximenes was the object of\ntheir attack, and they cried for the blood of him whom a few days\nbefore they had extolled with praises.\n\n{582}\n\nThe archbishop's friends urged him to fly to the fortress by a\nsecret passage. But they knew not the temper of the man whom they\ncounselled. He would never, he said, desert his servants in the\nhour of danger. All night he was engaged with them in repelling\nthe Moors' assaults, and in the morning the Count of Tendilla\narrived from the Alhambra with an armed force, and rescued\nXimenes from imminent peril. The outbreak, however, was not so\neasily subdued. The herald sent by the count to the rebels was\nmurdered, and his staff of office was broken in contempt. Nine\ndays this frantic resistance continued, though without even a\nremote prospect of ultimate success. Ximenes tried in vain to\nsoothe the raging multitude; but the milder archbishop, Talavera,\ngoing forth with his cross and a single chaplain, like Pope Leo\nwhen he encountered Attila, the crowd of rebels became appeased,\nand pressed round him to kiss his garment's hem. The governor\nTendilla then appeared before them in a civil attire, threw his\nscarlet bonnet among the crowd, promised his influence to obtain\nthe royal pardon, and left his wife and two children as hostages\nin the Albaycin.\n\nMeanwhile, Ximenes, on the third day of the revolt, sent to the\nsovereigns at Seville an account of what had happened. His\nmessenger was an Ethiopian slave--one of the telegraphic wires of\nthose days--who could run fifty leagues in forty-eight hours. But\nthe slave got drunk on the way, and arrived in Seville five days\nafter he was despatched, instead of two. Reports frightfully\nexaggerated had reached the king and queen. The court was in a\npanic. Ximenes was blamed for his indiscretion; and Ferdinand,\nwho had not forgotten the preference given to Ximenes over\nAlfonso of Aragon, his natural son, bitterly reproached Isabella\nfor having raised an incompetent monk to the see of Toledo. But\nthe archbishop soon appeared to plead his own cause. The king and\nqueen were not only satisfied with his explanations, but thanked\nhim for his services, and assented to his proposal that the\ninhabitants of the Albaycin should be punished for high treason,\nunless they purchased their pardon by being baptized. The treaty\nmade with the Moors was thought to be annulled by the violence of\nthe Moslems themselves. Those who persisted in their errors\nretired to the mountains or crossed over into Barbary; but by far\nthe greater part of the Moors embraced Christianity, and the\nnumber of the converts is computed at about 60,000. Ximenes and\nTalavera together catechised the people, working in perfect\nharmony, except in reference to the translation of the Bible into\nArabic. Talavera wished to make the version complete, while\nXimenes, on the contrary, was of opinion that the Scriptures\nshould be preserved in the ancient languages hallowed by being\nused in the inscriptions on the cross. To place the Bible in the\nvulgar tongue in the hands of neophytes and ignorant persons was,\nhe believed, to cast pearls before swine, and would certainly\nissue in spiritual revolt. But the friendship of the two prelates\nremained unbroken, and Talavera declared that the triumphs of\nXimenes exceeded those of Ferdinand and Isabella, since they had\nconquered only the soil, while he had won the souls of Granada.\nThere can be no doubt that in the mass of converts there were\nmany unworthy persons who afterward disgraced their profession.\nIt will always be thus when worldly advantages are held out to\nproselytes; but Ximenes knew that this would be the case, and was\nprepared to meet the evil with appropriate remedies. He believed\nthat good on the whole would result from his decisive measures;\nthat many, to say the least, of the conversions would be sincere,\nand that the children of the converts in general would be\neducated in the true religion.\n{583}\nWe do not criticise his conduct, neither do we altogether set it\nup as exemplary. It was more suitable to his time and country\nthan it would be to ours; and having recorded it faithfully, our\nwork is done. By whatever means accomplished, the result has been\na happy one. Islamism, after many spasmodic attempts at revival,\nhas died out of Spain, and the cause of European morality and\ncivilization has been saved from its most formidable enemy.\n\nXimenes was in his sixty-fourth year when extreme activity\nbrought on a severe illness and endangered his life. Every day\nhis energies were divided between the sovereigns who required his\ncounsel and aid, and the converts, chiefs, and others who\nlistened to his instructions. The king and queen evinced the\ngreatest concern for him when smitten down with fever, and\nremoved him from the fortress of the Alhambra, which was exposed\nto the wind, to the royal summer-house of Xeneralifa. Isabella in\nparticular bestowed on the venerable prelate her utmost care. He\nwas soon able to walk along the banks of the Darro and enjoy its\npure and bracing air, soon able to return to his beloved Alcal\u00e1,\nwhere he was founding the university which has made his name\nblessed for ever; while the queen, so much younger than himself,\nwho had raised him so high, and from whose sympathy and\nprotection he had so much to expect, the queen who was \"the\nmirror of every virtue, the shield of the innocent, and an\navenging sword to the wicked,\" [Footnote 169] was ere long\n[Footnote 170] to be called away from her earthly throne, and\nleave her aged and faithful servant to fight his way in the midst\nof those who understood him less perfectly and prized him less\nhighly than she had done.\n\n [Footnote 169: Peter Martyr, _Epist_. 279.]\n\n [Footnote 170: November 26th, 1504.]\n\nHe was engaged, at this time, in a great work. The new\nuniversity, founded by him at Alcal\u00e1 in 1500, became the rival of\nSalamanca, and was called by the Spaniards \"the eighth wonder of\nthe world.\" From the moment he was made Archbishop of Toledo, he\nresolved to devote its immense revenues to the construction of\nthis seat of learning. The spot was pleasant, the air pure, and\nthe site of the ancient Complutum was hallowed in the eyes of all\nwhose sympathies were with the past. Gonsalvo Zegri, the\nconverted Moor, assisted at laying the foundation-stone; and\nXimenes obtained from his royal patrons an annual grant and\nsundry privileges for the projected establishment. Thither\nXimenes repaired, as to his fondest occupation, whenever the\nduties of state and of his diocese permitted. Often he might be\nseen on the ground, with the rule in his hand, taking\nmeasurements of the works, and encouraging the laborers by his\nexample and by suitable rewards. Pope Julius II. issued a brief\nauthorizing the endowment, and Leo X. afterward augmented the\nliberties of the new foundation. The College of San Ildefonso\nstood at its head; in 1508, several students arrived, and 33\nprofessors with 12 priests were installed, who answered in their\nnumbers to the years of our Lord's life and his college of\napostles. Schools were attached for boarders, lectures and\ndisputations were set on foot, classes were formed, scholarships\nfounded, examinations publicly conducted, and diplomas conferred.\nThe intellect of the students was exercised in every branch of\nknowledge--in the ancient languages, including Hebrew, in\ntheology, canon law, medicine, anatomy, surgery, philosophy,\nmoral philosophy, mathematics, rhetoric, and grammar.\n{584}\nThe physical sciences were as yet little known and barely\nstudied. Theology spread its arms widely beneath and around all\nattainable knowledge. In 1514, King Ferdinand visited the\nuniversity, attended some of the lectures, and expressed his\nadmiration of the grandeur and beauty of the buildings. They were\nbut a feeble sign of the mental fabrics which Ximenes was raising\nto the honor of Spain and for her service. Patriotism blended in\nhim with religion, and helped to make him what he was.\n\nSome years after the death of Ximenes, Francis I., of France, on\nvisiting Alcal\u00e1, is reported to have said: \"Your cardinal has\nundertaken and accomplished a work I myself could not attempt.\nThe University of Paris, which is the pride of my kingdom, is the\nwork of many sovereigns. But Ximenes alone has founded one like\nit.\"\n\nIt was by a ruthless decree that this grand and famous seat of\nlearning was finally broken up, in 1850, by the creation of a\ncentral university and the sale of the buildings to the Count de\nQuinto. [Footnote 171] The inhabitants resolved at least to save\nthe rich tomb of the illustrious cardinal, and the translation of\nhis remains was effected with great solemnity on the 27th of\nApril, 1857.\n\n [Footnote 171: _L'Univers_, June 6th, 1857.]\n\nIt was in this university that Ximenes published that noble\nPolyglot by which he earned the praise and gratitude of all\nbiblical students. The text of the sacred Scriptures had become\ndeplorably corrupt at the commencement of the fifteenth century,\nowing to the inattention or ignorance of copyists. But the\ninvention of printing gave a new impetus to every branch of\nlearning, and promised biblical scholars great advantages in\ntheir study of the Bible. From the year 1462 to 1500 no less than\neighty editions of the Vulgate appeared; and the zeal of Jews in\namending the Hebrew text became an invaluable assistance to the\nlabors of Christians in the same field. The constant perversion\nof the meaning of Scripture by those who were aliens to the\nChurch made it increasingly necessary to study the Bible in its\noriginal languages, so as to be able to refute the impudent\nassertions of upstart divines. Hence Ximenes, whose designs were\nnaturally grand, formed the intention not only of raising a new\nuniversity, but of publishing a new edition of the Scriptures in\ntheir original tongues, and of thus restoring in some measure the\nlost _Hexapla_ of Origen. No translation, he held, could\nperfectly represent the original, and the MSS. of the Latin\nVulgate were painfully discrepant. It was needful, therefore, to\ngo back to the prime sources, and \"correct the books of the Old\nTestament by the Hebrew text, and those of the New Testament by\nthe Greek text.\" [Footnote 172]\n\n [Footnote 172: Prolegomena to the Polyglot.]\n\nHaving thus resolved to revive the dormant study of Holy Writ,\nXimenes's next step was to procure assistance from learned men,\nand access to the most ancient MSS. Several Jewish converts were\nenlisted, and, besides other professors, a Greek named Demetrius\nDucas. They were all handsomely paid and stimulated to the utmost\nexertion. \"Make haste, my friends,\" Ximenes would say; \"for, as\nall things in this world are transient, you may lose me or I may\nlose you. Let us work together while we can.\" Enormous sums were\nspent by him in the purchase of MSS., and some were lent to him\nby Pope Leo X., who honored him as sincerely as he loved the fine\narts.\n{585}\nTo these loans Ximenes refers in the introduction to the\nPolyglot. It is calculated by Gomez that nearly \u00a325,000 sterling\n(50,000 ducats=$125,000) were spent in bringing the work to a\nconclusion. The sale bore no proportion to the publishing\nexpenses, as 600 copies only were struck off, and these, though\nconsisting of six folios, were sold at six and a half ducats\neach. The price of the copies still in existence varies according\nto the state in which they have been preserved; but it ranges\nfrom \u00a340 to ^\u00a375. The Polyglot occupied fifteen years in its\ncompletion, and the New Testament, which forms the sixth volume\nof the work, appeared first in order of time. The Greek, being\nwithout the accents, has a strange appearance, but the editors\nexcuse themselves on the ground of the accents not having been\nused by the ancient Greeks, nor by the original writers of the\nNew Testament. The volume, on the whole, is beautifully printed,\nwhile the grammar and lexicon which accompanies it made it a\nvaluable means of promoting the study of Greek. The Pentateuch\nappeared in Hebrew, Chaldee, and Greek, together with three Latin\ntranslations. The roots of difficult words in the Hebrew and\nChaldaic texts are given in the margin, and this is no mean\nassistance to beginners in studying these languages, in which the\nradical meaning pervades all the derivatives in so marked a\ndegree. Altogether, it was a boon to mankind, munificent in its\ncost, noble in its design, beautiful in execution, and as\nprofound in scholarship as it could be in the age in which it saw\nthe light. When John Brocario, the printer's son, brought the\nlast sheets to the cardinal in his best attire, Ximenes raised\nhis eyes to heaven with great joy, and exclaimed: \"I give thee\nthanks, O God most high! that thou hast brought to a\nlong-wished-for end the work I undertook in thy name.\" Only four\nmonths later his eyes were closed in death. The Complutensian\nPolyglot became very useful in preparing subsequent editions of\nthe Scriptures; and though the labors of Griesbach, Buxtorf,\nMichaelis, and other critics have thrown its authority into the\nshade, it was an important link in the chain which has issued in\nthe present comparative purity of sacred texts. All real scholars\naward it cheerfully their meed of praise, and the charges brought\nagainst it by Wetstein and Semler have been amply refuted. It is\nan astonishing production, considering the disadvantages under\nwhich its compilers lay, that they had not access to the best and\nmost ancient MSS., and that the _Codex Vaticanus_ was not\nwithin their reach. What MSS. were really used we shall never\nknow; for, besides that many were returned to their owners after\nthe Polyglot was completed, others, which had been purchased,\nwere sold in 1749 as waste-paper to a rocket-maker named Torzo!\n\nAs the reform of the Franciscan order was the first glory of the\nhermit of Casta\u00f1ar, and the foundation of a great university the\nsecond, so the Bible of Alcal\u00e1 will ever be regarded as the third\ndurable monument of Ximenes's vast and varied powers.\n\nBut his literary labors were not confined to Holy Writ. He set on\nfoot a complete edition of the works of Aristotle; and though his\ndeath interrupted the design, he was able to bring out many other\nuseful books, in Latin and Spanish, for the use of the learned\nand the instruction of the people. The demand for such works was\nthen steadily increasing, and the supply not being equal to it,\nthere was difficulty in finding on sale, fifty years later, a\nsingle copy of the volumes Ximenes had edited.\n{586}\nEcclesiastical music-books also, which had hitherto been in\nmanuscript, were published by him, and distributed through the\nchurches of his diocese, so that the Gregorian chant, to which he\nwas strongly attached, might be better known and practised. Nor\ndid he forget works on agriculture, being desirous of promoting\nin every way the welfare of his kind.\n\nFinding among the MSS. in the library of Toledo a number of\nliturgies in old Gothic characters, he conceived a design of\nrescuing from destruction the Mozarabic or Mixt-Arabic rite. Its\nuse was long confined to Toledo and to some parishes where\nChristians lived under Moorish dominion. Then, in course of time,\nthe Mozarabic families having died out, and the reign of the\nMoors being at an end, the Gregorian rite superseded the old\nGothic one, and the memory of it was kept alive only by\noccasional use on certain festivals. It was evidently desirable,\nfor the sake of history and literature, to collate the MSS. of\nthis ancient liturgy, and preserve it in a printed form for\nfuture generations. This task Ximenes accomplished in a manner\nworthy of his comprehensive genius. He printed a number of\nMozarabic missals and breviaries, changing the Gothic characters\ninto Castilian, and erected a chapel in his cathedral where the\nMozarabic Mass might be said daily. He founded a college of\nthirteen priests, who should recite the canonical hours, and\nperform other functions according to this liturgy. Robles\nhimself, Ximenes's biographer, was one of these chaplains. This\nfoundation gave rise to others of the same kind in Salamanca and\nValladolid. They have fully answered the purpose of the founder,\nand Mozarabic missals can easily be purchased at the present day.\n\nThe obstacles which Ximenes had to overcome in reforming his\ndiocese were very serious, but he encountered them with the\nutmost firmness. The bishops enjoyed at that period immense\nrevenues, the benefices of priests were richly endowed, and the\nclergy were too numerous, lax in morals, and often extremely\nignorant. The corruption of the Castilian court was scandalous,\nand the natural children of kings and princes were constantly\nelevated to episcopal sees. The monasteries were changed into\nabodes of luxury, and it needed a queen like Isabella, and a\nprimate like Ximenes, to stem the tide of licentiousness. His\nfirst effort was to reform the lives and habits of his chapter,\nand in this attempt he was opposed by a canon named Albornoz,\nwhom he caused to be arrested on his way to Rome and cast into\nprison. Severe measures were indispensable in the state of\nsociety then existing. His own life as a bishop was strict in the\nextreme. He shunned all intercourse with women, and sitting\nalways with a Bible open before him, he had no time for idle and\nintrusive visitors. His charities made him beloved by the poor,\nand all the decrees issued by the synods under his presidency\ntended to revive the spirit and the forms of true religion. The\nstrict rule of the Observantines was introduced into the\nFranciscan order, and those who would not conform to it were\nexpelled [from] the country. The valiant reformer raised up\nenemies enough by his courage and zeal; but honest intentions\nsuch as his and force of character only triumph the more signally\nby being opposed. His friends pointed to his works of mercy as\nthe best answer to the calumnies of petty foes.\n{587}\nHe raised twelve churches; he founded four hospitals and eight\nmonasteries; he fed thirty poor persons daily at his palace,\nvisited the hospitals, and pensioned desolate widows. Would his\nenemies, even if they had possessed the means, have done the\nlike?\n\nWhen Isabella died, Ximenes, holding in one hand the archbishop's\ncross, grasped in the other the sceptre of state. Joanna, the\nconsort of Philip the Fair, who inherited the crown of Castile,\nhad become the prey of a disordered imagination. Her husband\nwould not reside in Spain, and she would not consent to live\nthere without him. Isabella had foreseen her incompetency and\nprobable absence. She had appointed Ferdinand of Aragon, her own\nhusband, Regent of Castile, till her grandson Charles should have\nattained his twentieth year. The nobles of Castile factiously\nresisted this wise provision; and though Ferdinand acted with\nprudence and moderation, though he caused his daughter Joanna,\nwith Philip her husband, to be proclaimed sovereigns, and\ncontented himself with administering the affairs of state in\ntheir absence, a struggle ensued in which Ximenes sided\nconstantly with Ferdinand, and adhered closely to the terms of\nIsabella's will. Philip prepared an army to drive his\nfather-in-law from Castile, while Joanna wrote to him requesting\nthat he would not resign the government, and surrendering her\nrights to him in the most earnest and affectionate terms.\n\nBy the wisdom and resolution of Ximenes, the rupture between\nPhilip and Ferdinand was partially healed. He mediated between\nthem with admirable _finesse_, and his success was the more\nremarkable because he found in Philip a faithless, wrong-headed,\nand vindictive man, the slave of passion and the dupe of evil\ncounsellors; while the confidence reposed in him by Ferdinand was\nnot always complete, nor equal at any time to that placed in him\nby the virtuous and noble Isabella. With his consent Philip was\nallowed to have his own way, and to govern Castile without the\nassistance of Ferdinand. But Philip was removed from this world\nin the flower of his age, and thus the path was opened for\nXimenes becoming Regent of Castile. He was by this time\nthoroughly conversant with the affairs of state. Every Thursday\nhe gave an audience to the king's chief ministers, and heard from\nthem the most important matters which were next day to be brought\nbefore the council. On Friday he gave these matters again his\ncareful consideration, and then handed in a report respecting\nthem to the king.\n\nIt was in September, 1506, that Philip died after a short\nillness, and Ximenes, with several others, was chosen provisional\nadministrator of the kingdom. His powers were soon increased, and\nexalted above those of his colleagues. He had a difficult part to\nplay, for the Castilian nobles were passionate and intriguing,\nand the disconsolate widow Joanna refused to endorse his\nauthority as regent. She sat nearly all day long in a dark\nchamber, with her face resting on her hand, silent, bitter, and\nsorrowful, listening only at intervals to sweet music which\nnursed her melancholy. These eccentricities ended in total\nderangement. She disinterred her husband's corpse at Miraflor\u00e9s,\ncontrary to the laws of the church and to Philip's will, and\nordered it to be conveyed before her by torch-light to the town\nof Torquemada. Endless funereal ceremonies were performed, and\nfantastic images of death and grief were multiplied in virtue of\nher diseased imagination.\n{588}\nShe insisted on residing in a little town where her court and\nattendants could scarcely find a cabin-roof to screen them from\nsun and storm.\n\nIn August, 1507, the unhappy queen, wild and haggard in\nappearance, attended by the corpse of her royal husband, met her\nfather Ferdinand at Tortol\u00e9s. With her consent he assumed the\nreins of government, and Ximenes resigned his powers into the\nhands of the king. His services had been great, and Ferdinand was\ntoo noble to leave them unrewarded. The archbishop was named\nCardinal and Grand-Inquisitor of Castile and Leon. Never was a\ncardinal's hat bestowed at Rome with greater satisfaction; and\nthe important office of grand-inquisitor, which was attached to\nthe higher dignity, will be estimated more correctly after a few\nobservations.\n\nIt was the opinion of St. Augustine, who herein followed that of\nSt. Ambrose and St. Leo, that persons ought not to be put to\ndeath for heresy, but the great doctor did not disapprove of\nforce being employed to restrain and correct heresy. This opinion\nbecame the basis of the civil laws of Theodosius II. and\nValentinian III.; but in the middle ages the alliance between\nchurch and state was much closer than it had been in earlier\nyears, and it was usual to punish obstinate heresy as a twofold\ncrime worthy of death. St. Thomas Aquinas defends this as\nreasonable, but St. Bernard was in favor of a more lenient\npolicy. Ecclesiastical tribunals were established in which cases\nof heresy were tried, and the civil magistrates were required by\nlaw to carry into effect the judgment of bishops. Papal legates\nalso, like Peter de Castelnau, were often entrusted with\ninquisitorial powers. The Council of Toulouse, in 1229, issued\nvarious decrees relative to the suppression of heresy, [Footnote\n173] and may thus be considered as founding the first\ninquisition. [Footnote 174] The Dominicans especially were\nemployed in the work of extirpating heresy, and but for the\nexertions of such men the nations of Europe would have been\noverrun with Manichaeism and various other forms of pestilent\nerror. The Jews settled in Spain, penetrated in disguise every\nbranch of society, and strove in every age to Judaize the people.\nThe inquisition was directed in a particular manner against this\nsubtle influence, and the peculiar nature of the evil required\npeculiar remedies and antidotes. It was Judaism in the church\nthat it labored to extirpate, and not the race of Israel dwelling\nin the Peninsula.\n\n [Footnote 173: Harduin, tome vii. pp. 173-178.]\n\n [Footnote 174: Von Hefele, p. 286.]\n\nThe inquisitors of Seville took office in 1481, and were\nappointed by the sovereigns Ferdinand and Isabella. Nothing was\nmore natural than that they should seek to rid the body politic\nof a gangrene so fatal as secret Judaism. Yet Sixtus IV. had\noccasion to rebuke the royal inquisitors for their needless\nseverity and to take measures for the mitigation of their\nsentences. But the tribunal was placed more and more under the\ncontrol of the state, and whether clergymen or laymen were\nemployed, they were alike subservient to the Spanish government.\nIn 1492, when, by a memorable edict, the Jews were ordered to\nquit Spain, unless they submitted to be baptized, the sphere of\nthe inquisition's labors became greatly enlarged in consequence\nof the increased number of Jews who professed Christianity from\nworldly motives alone. The Moriscos also, or baptized Moors, came\nwithin the sphere of its action; and it was introduced into\nGranada by the advice of the second grand-inquisitor, Deza, in\norder to prevent their relapsing into Islamism.\n\n{589}\n\nThe sovereigns of Castile and Aragon promoted the inquisition for\nother motives besides those here alluded to. They used it as an\ninstrument for consolidating their own power and breaking that of\nthe clergy and nobles. Piombal, at a later period, did the same\nin Portugal. Hence it was popular with the lower classes,\ndetested by the aristocracy, and often censured by popes. To\nthese facts Ranke and Balmez abundantly testify, and their\nevidence is confirmed by that of Henry Leo, Guizot, Havemann,\nLenormant, De Maistre, and Spittler. The falsehoods of Llorente\nrespecting the inquisition have been fully exposed, and those who\nsift the matter thoroughly will find that it was latterly more a\npolitical than a religious institution; that the cruelties it\nexercised have been enormously exaggerated; that it was in\naccordance with principles universally recognized in its day;\nthat its punishments, however severe, were in keeping with the\nordinary penal laws; that the popes constantly endeavored to\nmitigate its decrees; that Gregory XIII., Paul III., Pius IV.,\nand Innocent XII., in particular, reclaimed against its rigors;\nthat its intentions were good on the whole; its proceedings\ntempered with mercy; and that Ximenes, the third\ngrand-inquisitor, conducted himself in that office with\nmoderation and humanity, provided for the instruction of Jewish\nand Moorish converts, and \"adopted every expedient to diminish\nthe number of judicial cases reserved for the tribunal of the\ninquisition.\" [Footnote 175]\n\n [Footnote 175: Von Hefele, p. 387.]\n\nHe caused Lucero, the cruel inquisitor of Cordova, to be\narrested, tried, and deposed from his high functions. He\nprotected Lebrija, Vergara, and other learned men from envious\naspersions, and kept a strict watch over the officers of the\ninquisition, lest they should exceed their instructions or abuse\ntheir power. He endeavored, but without success in Ferdinand's\nlifetime, to exclude laymen from the council, and thus free the\ntribunal as far as possible from state influence. The number of\nthose who suffered punishment under his _r\u00e9gime_ has been\ngreatly exaggerated by Llorente; and if he introduced the\ninquisition into Oran, America, and the Canary Isles, it must be\nremembered that its jurisdiction extended over the old Christians\nsettled there, and not over the natives.\n\nIn reviewing Ximenes's conduct in such matters, we must never\nlose sight of the fact that absolute unity of religion was then\nthe aim of all Catholic governments, whereas circumstances are\nnow altered, and the question of religious liberty, though the\nsame in the abstract, is wholly changed in its practical\napplication. But the scene now changes. We have seen the hermit\nof Casta\u00f1ar doff his cowl to wear a mitre, found the University\nof Alcal\u00e1, edit the famous Polyglot, and rule as regent the\nkingdom of Castile. We shall now behold him mount a war-charger,\nplace himself at the head of an army, and lead it to victory on\nthe coasts of Africa. We shall admire and wonder at the\nversatility of his genius, and the resolution and activity which\nno difficulties could break nor advancing years slacken. It would\nbe easy to point out resemblances between Ximenes and the fiery\nChatham, nor can we wonder that the latter statesman admired the\nformer more than any other character in history. [Footnote 176]\n\n [Footnote 176: Horace Walpole's _George II_. p. iii. 19.]\n\n{590}\n\nThe cardinal had a double reason for advising Ferdinand to employ\nthe troops which Gonsalvo de Cordova had led to victory in Italy,\nin the conquest of some stronghold on the African coast.\nMazarquivir was taken in 1505, and Ximenes, expanding his designs\nas usual, conceived a vaster project for a new crusade and the\nrecovery of the Holy Sepulchre. It had been for ages the favorite\nand oft-baffled scheme of popes and Christian princes. It seemed\nto realize every hope of Catholic domination in Europe, and to\ninvolve the downfall of Islamism. The idea was as glorious as the\naccomplishment would be useful to humanity. It was the cause of\ncivilization against barbarism, and of truth against error. But\nthe strife between Philip and Ferdinand, already referred to,\ncompletely frustrated it, and the loss of Mazarquivir, in 1507,\nsupplied Ximenes with an opportunity of opposing Mohammedanism\nnearer home and under more urgent circumstances. At his earnest\nrequest a fleet was fitted out for the conquest of Oran. That\ncity was strongly fortified, rich and powerful, and in its\nharbors were a multitude of cruisers, ever ready to sweep the\nshores of the Mediterranean and carry off their victims to be\nsold as slaves. Though in his seventy-second year, though\nhampered by the infirmities common at such an age, Ximenes\nresolved to march in person to the conquest of this place, and to\nfurnish the means required for the expedition out of his own\nrevenues. He would thus, he thought, be able to pursue his own\nplans with greater freedom, and exempt the king from\nresponsibility and loss which he might not be able or willing to\nincur. There were those who sneered at the cardinal's girding on\nhis sword, and murmured that he had better tell his beads, but\nFerdinand knew well the temper of his mind. He willingly placed\nat his disposal all the forces that could be raised, and gave him\na large number of blank papers, signed only with the royal\nmanual, to be filled up as the great cardinal might think proper.\nFourteen thousand men were soon under arms, and Count Pedro\nNavarro was appointed by Ximenes commander of the forces. A\ntitular bishop was at the head of one division, and all the\ngenerals were distinguished for their valor. During some years\nXimenes had been husbanding his resources for some such\nenterprise, and subsidies flowed in from other churches and\ndioceses.\n\nIntrigues and jealousies delayed for awhile the sailing of the\nexpedition. Navarro strove to obtain the sole command. Ferdinand\nwas often wavering. A mutiny broke out in the army. The soldiers\ndemanded their pay in advance. But the voice of the cardinal\ncalmed the storm, and the soldiers, being promised a part of\ntheir pay as soon as they had embarked, hastened to the ships\nwith the merry sound of trumpets. On the 16th of May, 1509, the\nfleet weighed anchor. Ten galleys, eighty large transports, and\nmany smaller vessels traversed the straits, and on the following\nday--the Feast of the Ascension--Ximenes with his fleet and army\nanchored in the port of Mazarquivir. He passed the night in\ngiving his instructions; and though his health and strength were\nimpaired by age, toil, and study, his energy filled the troops\nwith confidence and enthusiasm. He summoned Navarro before him,\nand entrusted the conduct of the army to him alone, yet the\nrelative positions of the cardinal and the commander were not,\nafter all, clearly defined\n\n{591}\n\nThe lines were formed in order of battle, when a striking scene\npresented itself. Oran was to be attacked by sea and land. A\nmendicant friar was transformed into a chieftain and a hero.\nForth he rode, mounted on a mule, with a sword belted over his\npontifical robes. Many ecclesiastics surrounded him. Canons and\npriests were his body-guard. Swords and scimitars hung from their\ngirdles, and before them rode a giant Franciscan on a white\ncharger, bearing the primate's silver cross and the arms of the\nhouse of Cisneros. The hymn _Vexilla regis prodeunt_ rose to\nheaven as the cavalcade advanced; and the cardinal, riding along\nthe ranks, imposed silence and harangued the troops. His words\nwere few, but full of fire. The mothers of Spain, he said, whose\nchildren had been dragged into slavery, were prostrate at that\nmoment before the altar of God, praying for success to his\nsoldiers' arms. He desired to share their danger, remembering how\nmany bishops who had preceded him in the see of Toledo had died\ngloriously on the battle-field.\n\nOfficers and men were excited to the utmost by Ximenes's address,\nbut when he was about to place himself at their head, they\nentreated him with one voice not to expose so precious a life. He\nretired, therefore, within the fortress of Mazarquivir, and\nthere, in the oratory of St. Michael, implored the God of battles\nto crown his troops with victory. Scarcely had he entered the\nfort, when the folly of Navarro compelled the cardinal to\ninterfere. The commander had ordered the cavalry to remain\ninactive, because the country was so hilly, and if Ximenes had\nnot resolutely insisted on their supporting the foot-soldiers,\nthe day would probably have been lost. With like energy Ximenes\ncondemned any delay as criminal, and prevented Navarro from\ndeferring the combat, as he proposed, to the next day, when the\narrival of the chief-vizier of Tremesen with strong\nre-enforcements would have been dangerous, if not fatal, to the\nSpaniards' prospect of success.\n\nThe infantry, therefore, in four battalions, advanced immediately\nup the sides of the sierra, shouting, \"Santiago, Santiago!\" A\nshower of stones and arrows was hurled on them by the Moors, and\nthe position was obstinately disputed. But a battery of guns\nplaying on the enemy's flank, they wavered and fled, while the\nSpaniards, in spite of contrary orders, pursued and slaughtered\nthem with great havoc. The fleet, meanwhile, bombarded the city,\nand, though ill provided with ladders, the Christian troops\nscaled the walls, planted their colors, and with loud cries of\n\"Santiago y Ximenes!\" opened the gates to their comrades. In vain\ndid their general call them off from the work of carnage. No age\nor sex was spared; till at last, weary with plunder and butchery,\nthey sank down in the streets, and slept beside the corpses of\ntheir foes. Four thousand Moors were said to have fallen, and\nonly thirty Spaniards. The booty was counted at half a million of\ngold ducats.\n\nThe cardinal spent the night in praising God, and the next day,\nproceeding by sea to Oran, made a solemn entry. The troops hailed\nhim as the conqueror, but he was heard to say aloud, \"_Non\nnobis, Domine, sed nomini tuo da gloriam_.\" He set at liberty\nthree hundred Christian captives; and when the entire spoil of\nthe city was presented to him, he reserved nothing for himself,\nbut set apart a portion for the king, and divided the rest among\nhis troops. Sixty pieces of cannon fell into his hands, and it\nseemed little less than a miracle that a place so defended should\nhave been taken in a few hours.\n{592}\nOthers affirmed that there had been traitors among the\ninhabitants, and that Ximenes had gained over to his side some\npersons who acted as spies and gave him secret intelligence. The\nmosques were soon converted into churches, and a branch of the\ninquisition was established, lest convert Jews should hasten from\nSpain to Oran and renounce the Christian religion with impunity.\n\nIt now became a question whether the war should be pushed further\ninto Africa. The people of Tremesen, stung to madness by the fall\nof Oran, had massacred the Christian merchants and slaughtered\neven the Jews. But Navarro had grown jealous of Ximenes, and\nscorned to obey orders issued by a monk. He informed the cardinal\nthat his power expired with the siege of Oran, and that, if he\nremained with the army any longer, he would be treated as a\nprivate individual. To this indignity Ximenes would not submit,\nyet he had no desire to continue in Africa. A letter of\nFerdinand's, which he saw by chance, instructed Navarro to detain\nhim there as long as might be needful; and he suspected that the\nking wished him to languish and die on a foreign shore. He knew\nthat Ferdinand could ill bear to see the glory of Gonsalvo de\nCordova, \"the great captain,\" and his special friend, to be\nobscured by that of a general in a monk's cowl, but he was not\ndisposed to gratify his royal master by dying before his time.\n\nJust a week after he had landed, the cardinal set sail on his\nreturn. He remained seven days at Carthagena; established a line\nof transports to run between it and Oran, and then departed for\nAlcal\u00e1, where he made his entry with a sort of military triumph.\nA part of the walls had been broken down for him to pass through,\nbut this honor he declined, and contented himself with entering\nthrough the usual gate, preceded by Moorish slaves leading camels\nladen with booty. The keys of Oran, chandeliers from the mosques,\nbanners, and Arabic MSS. on medicine and astrology were presented\nto the university; and a tablet was placed in the Mozarabic\nchapel of the cathedral of Toledo, with an inscription recording\nthe success of the expedition. Some of these curiosities are\nstill shown to visitors in the cathedral; but the fame of Ximenes\nhas little need of such memorials. As a martial expedition was an\nenterprise least to be expected of him, so it is that which marks\nhim most prominently on the page of history.\n\nThe capture of Oran led to further conquests on the coasts of\nAfrica; yet, after all, the declining power of Spain made it\ndifficult to retain what she had acquired, and impossible to\nextend her dominions. In 1790, after a dreadful earthquake, Oran\nfell into the hands of the Dey of Algiers. Since then, it has\nbeen annexed to the French empire, under conditions more\nfavorable to civilization than it enjoyed under Spanish rule.\n\nOne of the conditions attached by Ximenes to the conquest of Oran\nhad been that it should either be annexed to the archbishopric of\nToledo, or that the expenses he might incur should be refunded\nfrom the treasury. Cabals, however, were raised against him. He\nwas charged with having enriched himself, and the promised\nconditions seemed likely to stay unfulfilled. He persisted in his\nclaim, wrote to Ferdinand on the subject, and was mortified by\nseeing a commission appointed to examine his private apartments,\nin order to ascertain what part of the spoils he had reserved for\nhimself.\n{593}\nThe account-book, which he handed to the commissioner, was the\nonly reply he made to this indignity. Not long after, the king\nproposed that he should exchange the archbishopric of Toledo for\nthat of Zaragoza, and yield the primacy to Ferdinand's natural\nson, a brave warrior and able politician, but a worldly prelate.\nTo this unworthy proposal Ximenes made answer that he would never\nexchange his see for any other. He was willing to return to the\npoverty of a cloister, but if he held any see at all it should be\nthat one over which Providence had appointed him to rule.\n\nCold and capricious as Ferdinand was sometimes toward the\ncardinal, he treated him with the same respect as ever when his\nown interests or those of the state seemed to require it. When he\nhad espoused the cause of Julius II. against the King of France,\nhe sent for Ximenes to meet him at Seville and aid him with his\ncounsels. It was in the depth of winter, but the cardinal\npromptly obeyed the summons. He admired the bold attitude assumed\nby the pope, and heartily sympathized with his efforts to recover\nthe territories which had been torn from the Church, to extend\nthe temporal sovereignty of the successor of St. Peter, to compel\nhis vassals to obey him, and to humble the power of Venice, then\nmistress of almost all his seaports. He saw with satisfaction the\nblows inflicted on the pride and insolence of the Baglionis and\nBentivoglios, and he approved of the League of Cambray, by which\nJulius II., Louis XII., the Emperor of Germany, and the King of\nSpain bound themselves to enfeeble Venice and avenge the injuries\nshe had done to the domains of the Church. But Ximenes, though he\nconcurred in the papal policy as regards Venice, shared also the\nfears of the sovereign pontiff lest France should extend her\npossessions in the north of Italy. He justified Julius II. in\nwithdrawing from the League into which he had entered, and was\nprepared to afford him every assistance in resisting the\narrogance of Louis XII. when he seized on Bologna and convened a\ncouncil at Pisa, in defiance of the Holy See. The adhesion of\nFerdinand and Ximenes encouraged Pope Julius to form an alliance\nwith Venice, and thus to oppose the united forces of the Emperor\nMaximilian and Louis XII. Under the auspices of these princes a\nschismatical council dared to assemble at Pisa, and afterward at\nMilan. Seven insubordinate cardinals and twenty bishops, chiefly\nFrench, were present at the opening, and in the eighth and ninth\nsessions they audaciously declared Julius II. deposed. But a\ngeneral council, convened by the pope, met in the Lateran in\n1512, condemned these schismatical proceedings, and restored the\nwavering to obedience. Even Maximilian deserted the King of\nFrance, and Henry VIII. of England sided with Ferdinand against\nthe pope's enemies.\n\nIt may here be mentioned that Ximenes was averse to the\ndistribution of indulgences under Julius II. and Leo X. for the\ncompletion of St. Peter's in Rome. The ground on which he\ndisapproved of it was, that the relaxation of temporal punishment\nwhich these indulgences conferred might weaken and disturb\necclesiastical discipline. Devoutly submissive as he was to the\nHoly See, he nevertheless, as Gomez relates, advised Ferdinand to\nenact a law by which all papal bulls should, before publication,\nbe submitted to a minister of state. His object was to guard\nagainst abuses, since dispensations were often obtained too\neasily from Rome.\n\n{594}\n\nDuring Ferdinand's last illness, Ximenes occupied a prominent\npost in the affairs of state; and on one occasion, when the\nsovereign was absent from Castile, the government was entrusted\nto him, in concert with the royal council. It was, therefore,\nnatural that, when the king died, he should be appointed regent\nduring the minority of Charles V. Ferdinand had, it is true,\nobjected to him as too austere, but he yielded to the advice of\nothers, and consented to the appointment immediately before\nreceiving the last sacraments. It was, he thought, an advantage\nin his case not to have been born of a noble family, since he\ncould on that account conduct the administration with greater\nimpartiality. Thus, on the 23d of January, 1516, Ximenes became\nonce more the ruler of a nation daily rising in importance.\n\nAnother claimant of supreme power appeared on the scene. This was\nDean Hadrian, afterward pope, who had been tutor to Prince\nCharles, and who produced a document signed by the prince,\nauthorizing him to assume the regency of Castile in the event of\nFerdinand's demise. The legal decision on the question was\nunfavorable to Hadrian's claim; but Ximenes, wishing to avoid\ndisputes, consented to rule conjointly with his rival until\nCharles himself should decide by which of the two he would be\nrepresented. Nothing could exceed the promptitude and energy of\nthe cardinal's measures. If an insurrection broke out, troops\nwere despatched instantly to suppress it. Madrid was in the\nneighborhood of his own vassals, and he therefore chose it as the\nseat of government, lest he might in some other place be exposed\nto the violence of interfering grandees.\n\nThe authority given in the first instance to Ximenes was fully\nconfirmed by Charles, and in a letter which he addressed to the\ncardinal he declared that \"the most excellent clause he had found\nin his grandfather's will was that by which Ximenes was invested\nwith the government of the kingdom and the administration of\njustice.\" The fame of the consummate wisdom, experience, and\neminent virtues of the cardinal had reached, he said, even\nFlanders; and he therefore enjoined on all the members of his\nfamily, the nobles and prelates, to recognize him as regent. To\nHadrian the prince assigned a subordinate post, and every\narrangement was made with due regard to the rights of the unhappy\nQueen Joanna, whose derangement made her practically a cipher,\nthough nominally supreme ruler. Her name preceded that of her son\nCharles in all public documents; but the prince was proclaimed\nKing of Castile by order of Ximenes. It was not until Charles\narrived in Spain that the Cortes of Aragon consented to recognize\nhis title as king of that country also.\n\nThe height of power is generally the height of discomfort. Many\nof the nobles combined to harass Ximenes, and incite the people\nto rebel against \"a monk of base extraction.\" They questioned his\nauthority, and decided on sending messengers to Flanders to\ndemand his dismissal. The cardinal, however, was fully apprised\nof all their plans; and it is said by Gomez that, when some of\nthem waited on him to ask for the documents in virtue of which he\nheld the regency, he took them to the window, and showing them a\npark of artillery, said, \"These are the powers by which I govern\nCastile according to the king's will and command.\"\n\n{595}\n\nHe took, indeed, if Peter Martyr can be credited, great interest\nand pleasure in military affairs. He had heard Ferdinand\nexpatiate on the advantages of a militia as opposed to an army\nrecruited from different countries; and now that he was wielding\ndictatorial power, he resolved to put the scheme in execution. He\nconferred with the senate, and issued a proclamation inviting the\nenlistment of volunteers. They were, with the exception of\nofficers and musicians, to serve without pay, but in return they\nwere exempted from taxes, socages, and all other charges.\nImmediate success attended this measure. Thirty thousand citizens\nwere speedily enrolled, and were daily drilled in public. The\ncompliments paid to Ximenes by ambassadors, and the envious\ncavillings of foreign princes, sufficiently proved the wisdom of\nthis organization. It encountered great opposition from the\nnobles, but, being endorsed by the special approval of Charles,\nit triumphed ultimately over every obstacle.\n\nXimenes's attention, at the same time, was turned to the maritime\npower of the kingdom. He added twenty trireme galleys to the\nnavy, and put the entire fleet in movement against the Moors and\npirates who infested the Spanish coasts. The seas were thus\ncleared of \"Red Rovers,\" and Pope Leo X. congratulated the\ncardinal on the success of his marine administration. His\ngovernment was assailed on all sides, but the great churchman was\nnever at a loss. Whether he had to meet invading forces on the\nfrontier, or suppress rebellion in the interior, he was in the\nhighest degree prompt and resolute; he struck terror into his\nfoes, and earned the absent sovereign's warmest gratitude. He was\nequally attentive to the details of government and to its general\naims. He caused exact accounts to be drawn up of the revenues,\nfinances, and laws of the three military orders; and was\npreparing similar documents relative to the kingdom at large when\narrested in his labors by the hand of death. To relieve the royal\ntreasury he suppressed numerous sinecures, beginning with those\nheld by his own friends, and remonstrated with Charles on his\nlavish expenditure.\n\nSuccessful as Ximenes had been in the capture of Oran, it was his\nmisfortune afterward to be foiled and worsted by a robber. The\nname of Horac Barbarossa was feared throughout the Mediterranean.\nHe was scarcely twenty years of age when a pirate-fleet of forty\ngalleys sailed under his command. Though a cannon-ball carried\noff his left arm in an attack on Bugia in 1515, he returned to\nthe assault, took the citadel, and put the entire Christian\ngarrison to death. He roused the fanaticism of the Moslems, and\nexcited them to throw off the Spanish yoke. The King of Algiers\nsought his aid against the Spaniards; but the treacherous pirate\nmurdered his friend in a bath, seized the throne, and refused to\npay tribute to Spain. He also took the King of Tunis prisoner,\nand put him to death. A talkative and bragging general, named\nVera, was sent by Ximenes with 8000 men to reduce this brigand\nand usurper to subjection. But he was too strong and skilful for\nthe blundering Vera. The Spanish expedition utterly failed, and\nthe two-armed general who could not beat the one-armed buccaneer\nwas an object of ridicule and scorn to women and children when he\nreturned to Spain.\n\n{596}\n\nThe conquest of Granada had been the means of bringing into\npublic notice two of the greatest men of that or any other age.\nThe appointment of Talavera to the see of Granada led to Ximenes\nbeing summoned to court to fill his place as confessor to the\nqueen; and in the joy felt by Isabella at the final victory over\nthe Moors in Spain she granted Columbus the vessels he had\nsolicited during many years. In March, 1493, the glorious\nadventurer returned from the far West, and brought with him\nnumerous proofs of the extent and importance of his distant\ndiscoveries. The natives whom he had on board his ships increased\nthe desire of Ferdinand and Isabella to impart the blessings of\nChristianity to their new subjects; and Ximenes, then occupied\nwith the conversion of the Spanish Moors, was anxious to\nco-operate with the sovereigns for the repression of crime and\ncruelty in the American colonies, and in the instruction of the\ncaciques and the Indian tribes in the faith of the gospel. It is\nwell known how long and how miserably these pious designs were\nfrustrated by the barbarity of Spanish governors, the rapacity\nand license of Spanish sailors, convicts, and settlers. It is not\nsurprising that the cacique Hatuey vowed he would rather not go\nto heaven if the Spaniards were there.\n\nThe royal decrees respecting slavery had been hesitating and\ncontradictory; nor were the religious orders in the New World\nagreed as to the practice that should be pursued. Some of the\ngovernors allowed the natives to be treated as slaves, while\nothers received orders from the home government to limit slavery\nto the case of cannibals. When Ximenes became regent, he\ncarefully investigated the matter, heard a number of witnesses,\nand formed his own resolution independently of other counsellors.\nThe principal caciques were to be called together, and informed,\nin the name of Queen Isabella and her son Charles, that they were\nfree subjects, and that, though the tribes would be required to\npay a certain tribute, their rights, liberties, and interests\nwould be protected. The caciques would rule in the several\nterritories and villages in conjunction with a priest and royal\nadministrator; religion would be taught, civilization promoted,\nmerciful laws introduced, and traffic in slaves, whether Indian\nor negro, strictly forbidden. It was found by subsequent\nexperience that these wise and merciful regulations were too good\nfor the purpose required; that it would be dangerous to\nemancipate the Indians suddenly; and that it could only be done\nafter a sufficient number of negro slaves had been imported from\nAfrica.\n\nThe authority of Ximenes during the latter part of his regency\nwas disputed, not merely by factious nobles, but also by Dean\nHadrian and the Seigneur de la Chaux. They sought to establish a\ntriumvirate, and reduce Ximenes to a second-rate power. But the\ncardinal receiving some papers to which they had first affixed\ntheir signatures, he immediately ordered fresh copies to be made,\nand signed them himself only. From that time neither La Chaux nor\nHadrian was ever allowed to sign a decree. They complained,\nindeed, to the king, but with little effect. Ximenes paid no\nattention to the remonstrance of the royal ambassador, and the\naffair ended by his exclusive authority being recognized and\napproved.\n\n{597}\n\nThe machinations of his enemies ceased only with his life. To the\nlast, intrigues, jealousies, and calumnies hedged in his path\nwith thorns. In August, 1517, it is said, an attempt was made to\npoison him; and it would have succeeded had not his servant,\naccording to custom, first tasted every dish set before him, and\nfallen seriously ill at Bozeguillas. His health was failing fast\nwhen Charles arrived from Flanders, and the courtiers used every\nartifice to prevent his having an interview with the young\nprince. They feared the influence of his genius and experience,\nand hoped that death might speedily rid them of his presence.\nIssuing vigorous orders daily for the government of the state, he\ncalmly awaited the arrival of the king, and of his own\napproaching end, in the monastery of Aguilera. There he renewed\nand corrected the will by which he left the bulk of his vast\nproperty to the University of Alcal\u00e1. He often blessed God for\nenabling him to say that he had never knowingly injured any man,\nbut had administered justice even-handed. The peace of his own\nconscience did not preserve him from the persecution and insults\nof his enemies. They even indulged their spite by the paltry\nannoyance of quartering his servants in a neighboring village,\ninstead of their being under the same roof with their master,\nwhen, wrapped in furs, he took his last journey to meet Charles,\nand welcome him to his kingdom and throne. From the sovereign\nhimself he received a heartless letter, thanking him for all his\ngreat services, and expressing a hope that they should meet at\nMojados; but after their meeting, he suggested that the cardinal\nshould be relieved of his arduous duties; in other words, that he\nshould share no longer in the conduct of public affairs. This\ncruel letter is thought by many writers to have hastened\nXimenes's death, while others are of opinion that it was never\ndelivered to him, and that he was thus spared a wanton addition\nto the pangs of dying. Ximenes died in all respects the death of\nthe righteous. The language of contrition and praise was on his\nlips, and the crucifix in his hand. He recommended the University\nof Alcal\u00e1 to the king in his last moments, together with the\nmonasteries he had founded. He expired, exclaiming, \"_In te,\nDomine, speravi_\" on Sunday, the 8th of November, 1517, in the\neighty-second year of his age. All the surrounding country\nhastened to kiss his hands while his body lay in state. The\ncorpse was embalmed, and conveyed by slow stages, and amid the\nblaze of numberless torches, to Torrelaguna, his birthplace, and\nafterward to Alcal\u00e1, the city of his adoption. Arriving there on\nthe Feast of St. Eugene, the first Archbishop of Toledo, the day\nwas celebrated yearly from that time by a funeral service and\npanegyric in honor of Ximenes. Fifty-eight years after the\nuniversity was founded, his monument was enclosed in bronze\ntablets, on which the chief events in his career were\nrepresented. Thus, by sermons, by external images, by tradition,\nand by history, the memory of this remarkable man was kept alive.\nPosterity became indulgent to his defects. They were specks in a\nblaze of light. Heroism and saintdom encircled his memory with\neffulgent halos. His person became familiar to the Spaniard's\neye: his tall, thin frame, his aquiline nose, his high forehead,\nhis piercing, deep-set eyes, and those two prominent eye-teeth\nwhich gained him the nickname of \"the elephant.\" According to the\ncustom of the time, he kept a jester, and his dwarf's jokes\ndiverted him when depressed with violent headaches, or worn with\nthe affairs of state and opposition of factious men. Study was\nhis delight. He never felt too old to learn, and he frequently\nassisted at public disputations.\n{598}\nPrayer lay at the root of his greatness; it regulated his\nambition, tamed his impetuosity, and filled him with the love of\njustice. It made him severe toward himself, firm and fearless,\nequally capable of wielding a sceptre of iron and a pastoral\ncrook. You may search as you will for historical parallels, but\nXimenes is the only prime-minister in the world who was held to\nbe a saint by the people he ruled, and the only primate who has\nacquired lasting renown in such varied characters as ascetic,\nsoldier, chieftain, scholar, man of letters, statesman, reformer,\nand regent.\n\n ----------\n\n From La Revue Du Monde Catholique.\n\n The Ignorance Of The Middle Ages.\n\n\nA recent and famous circular respecting the education of women\nhas called attention to the public schools of France, and the\nrevolutionary journals have unanimously profited by the\nopportunity to load past ages with sarcasm and irony. It is\nbecause there is a question of religion in this case, as in all\nthe principal incidents of the time. The antichristian press is\nbut little interested in the degree of knowledge diffused in the\nmiddle ages, or in the pretended degradation of the people of\nRome; [Footnote 177] but under these deceitful pretexts is\nconcealed a design, persistently and ardently pursued--the\nannihilation of Christianity. Christianity must be put down\nbecause it is now the only force that strongly resists unruly\npassions, and because modern barbarians, eager to possess the\ngoods they covet, wish to submit no longer to any obstacle or\ndelay.\n\n [Footnote 177: The degradation of which an editor of the\n _Journal des D\u00e9bats_ (M. J. Janin) wrote in 1836: \"Talk\n to me of the enslaved country of the Holy Father as free!\"]\n\nLet not Christians be deceived by the hypocritical protestations\nof respect uttered by this enemy, to whom falsehood is a jest.\nLet them not grow weary of countermining the subterranean attacks\ncarried on against the city. For each assault let there be a\nsortie; for each new battery, a new bastion! Resources are not\nwanting; we possess facts, works, men, the testimony of history,\nand even the admission of our enemies, and we are sure victory\nwill be ours in the end.\n\nA former essay [Footnote 178] depicted the savage brutality of\nthe barbarous nations converted to Christianity, their passions,\ntheir vices, their ferocity, and their excesses. We will now show\nwhat the church did in one particular to subdue, civilize, and\nelevate them, by diffusing with unparalleled munificence the most\nextended, the most general and complete course of instruction\never given to the world; how, in the most troublous times--in the\ntenth century, for example--the church was the inviolable\nguardian of the productions of the human mind; what ardor for\nknowledge it excited in these men, but recently so violent and so\nmaterial; and besides its saints, what learned men, it\nformed--what great men, full of talent and genius!\n\n [Footnote 178: \"Les Barbares et le Moyen Age,\" _Revue du\n Monde Cath_., of Aug. 10 and Sept. 10, 1867.]\n\n{599}\n\n I.\n\n Christian Antiquity.\n\nSome writers, having lost the spirit of Christianity, have denied\nthat Christian antiquity had a taste for science and literature,\nand have stigmatized the middle ages as _dark_. If they had\nbeen Christians, they would have known that this accusation is as\nerroneous as it is injurious--was contrary to the very\nprinciples of Christianity.\n\nPagan society, established, with a view to this life, for the\nwell-being of a few, kept the people in ignorance in order to\nkeep them in servitude. Ignorance, by rendering men material,\ndisposes them to servility and strengthens tyranny. It had\nacademies for the free-born, but not for the slave. Why trouble\nthemselves about the minds of those miserable creatures who were\n\"incapable of good, of evil, and of virtue,\" who were called\nspeaking instruments and chattels? It had philosophers, poets,\nand learned men, but no popular schools; for it loved science and\nnot man.\n\nThe first principle of Christianity, on the contrary, is love.\nLove is without narrowness: it does not repel, it attracts: it is\nnot exclusive, it is all-embracing: it seeketh not its own, it is\ngenerously and openly diffusive, it searches out and summons the\nwhole world: _Venite ad me omnes_. Christianity knows only\none race of men who are all equal. Its other name is\n_Catholicism, universality_. It has but one object, which is\nsupernatural--to lead men to God.\n\nIn order that man may aspire to this sublime end, he must be made\nfree--_cui liber, est liber_--must be enlightened, that he\nmay comprehend the Supreme Intelligence that created him.\nChristianity breathes into man \"that ardent love of knowledge\"\n[Footnote 179] which buoys up his wings: it lights up before him\na perspective extending to the very confines of heaven. \"The more\nfully man comprehends in what way God has established everything\nin number, weight, and measure, the more ardent is his love for\nhim,\" says a simple nun [Footnote 180] of the middle ages,\nbeautifully expressing the idea of the church. This is the reason\nwhy Christianity has patronized science, and diffused and\ncultivated it.\n\n [Footnote 179: J. de Maistre, _Du Pape_, iv. 3.]\n\n [Footnote 180: Roswitha, _Paphnuce_.]\n\nAs soon as Christianity had a foothold in the world, instead of\nturning toward a few, like the philosophers, it addresses\nall--the poor who had been despised, the lowly who had been made\nuse of, and the slaves who had not been counted. The door of\nknowledge was opened wide to plebeians. \"We teach philosophy to\nfullers and shoemakers,\" says St. Chrysostom. From the depths of\nthe catacombs, where they were obliged to conceal themselves, the\nfirst pontiffs, whose lives for three centuries terminated by\nmartyrdom, founded schools in every parish of Rome, and ordered\nthe priests to assemble the children of the country in order to\ninstruct them. What, then, was the result when Christianity,\nissuing from the bowels of the earth, bloomed forth in freedom?\nThere were schools everywhere, monastic schools, schools in the\npriests' houses, [Footnote 181] episcopal schools, established by\nGregory the Great, and schools at the entrance of churches, (as\nin the portico of the cathedral of Lucca, in the eighth century.)\n\n [Footnote 181: A council of the sixteenth century\n speaks of schools in the priests' houses.]\n\n{600}\n\nThe decrees of councils, the decretals of popes, attest the\ndesire of distributing to all the food of the mind, and of\nmultiplying schools. [Footnote 182] And who were their first\nmasters? The priests, bishops, and doctors of the church. \"It is\nour duty,\" (it is a pope who speaks,) \"to endeavor to dispel\nignorance.\" [Footnote 183] Ulphidas, a bishop of the fifth\ncentury, translated the Bible into the language of the Goths, for\nthe instruction of the barbarians; and at a later period,\nAlbertus Magnus and St. Bonaventura composed abridgments of the\nScriptures for the poor, called the _Bible of the Poor, Biblia\nPauperum_. \"If the important knowledge of reading and writing\nwas spread among the people, it was owing to the church,\" says\nSt. Simon the Reformer. [Footnote 184]\n\n [Footnote 182: Report of the Minister of Public Instruction,\n M. Duruy, 1865.]\n\n [Footnote 183: Innocent III. at the Council of 1215.]\n\n [Footnote 184: _La Science de l'Histoire_.]\n\nAnd how did the church bestow it? Gratuitously, \"to all who could\nnot pay for it.\" The church is truly democratic, according to the\nmodern expression, or rather, it is an institution of charity;\ngratuitous instruction is its conception which it put into\nexecution. (Ventura.) Listen to its councils: \"Every cathedral\nand every church that has the means is obliged to found a\nprofessorship of theology for ecclesiastics, and provide a master\nfor the gratuitous instruction of the poor, _according to the\nancient customs_. [Footnote 185] It is thus it understood\nobligatory instruction, not imposed on those who received it,\nwhich would be tyranny, but exacted from those who gave it, which\nwas an act of virtue.\n\n [Footnote 185: The Council of Constantinople in 680; then the\n Councils of Lateran in 1179 and 1215, and the Council of\n Lyons in 1245. In the eighth century Theodolphus, Bishop of\n Orleans, wrote to his priests: \"Exact no pay for the\n instruction of children, and receive nothing, except what is\n offered voluntarily and through affection, by the parents.\"]\n\nBut was it elementary knowledge alone? Does the church disdain\nliterature, which a father calls the ornament and consolation of\nthe wretchedness of man--polite literature, the humanities _par\nexcellence_, because they sustain humanity in the combat of\nlife? Certainly not; the church found the pagan world powerful\nand renowned for its attainments in literature, the sciences, and\nthe arts; it would not leave to that world its superiority; it\nwould also become the patron of knowledge, because that would aid\nin the progress of truth. \"We ought,\" says St. Basil, \"to study\nthe profane sciences before penetrating the mysteries of sacred\nknowledge, that we may become accustomed to their radiance.\"\n[Footnote 186] The church exhorted its children to the\nacquirement of knowledge; nay, it even wished itself to excel\ntherein, and it succeeded so as to terrify its enemies, as in the\ncase of Julian the Apostate, who, to crush the church, undertook\nto prohibit it from studying the sciences. Where shall we find\nmen more learned than Clement of Alexandria, who fathomed and\nexplained the origin of pagan mythology; St. Basil and the two\nGregorys, who, pupils of the Athenian school, acquired there the\neloquence in which they equalled Demosthenes; St. Augustine,\nwhose work, _De Civitate Dei,_ is the compendium of all\nknowledge, philosophy, literature, science, and the entire\nhistory of the world; and Origen, before whom the most celebrated\nmasters of the East rose up and ceased to teach, intimidated by\nhis presence? \"We are not afraid,\" says St. Jerome, \"of any kind\nof comparison!\"\n\n [Footnote 186: _Discourse on the Utility of reading Profane\n Literature_. See also St. Gregory of Nazianzen,\n _Discourse at the Funeral of St. Basil_.]\n\n{601}\n\nThe church thus continues: \"Study,\" wrote Cassiodorus, in the\nfifth century, to his monks--\"study Galen, Hippocrates,\nDioscorides, and the other authors you find in the library.\" The\ncourse of study at Salernum was pursued by a great number of\nclerics, priests, and bishops: [Footnote 187] priests learned\nhistory, grammar, Greek, and geometry at the school in the\nbasilica of Lateran. [Footnote 188]\n\n [Footnote 187: Daremberg, _Cours de 1866 sur l'Histoire de\n la Medecine_.]\n\n [Footnote 188: And in the Benedictine monasteries.]\n\nWhere did the Greek artists, driven out by iconoclasts, take\nrefuge? In Rome, under the protection of the popes. Who were the\nfirst historians of the West? Priests and bishops: Gregory of\nTours, Fredegarius, Eginhard, Odo, and Flodoard. There is an\necclesiastical tone throughout the entire Merovingian\nliterature--the legends, hymns, and chronicles. [Footnote 189]\nEven the poets, Fortunatus and Sidonius Apollinaris, are priests\nfamiliar with the works of antiquity. \"I am engaged,\" wrote\nAlcuin to Charlemagne, \"in giving instruction to some by drawing\nfrom the fount of Holy Writ, and intoxicating others with the old\nwine of the ancient schools.\" And for what purpose? He continues:\n\"In order that the church may profit by the increase of\nknowledge.\" Finally, when a pope, great through his genius and\nhis sanctity--Gregory VII.--was inspired with the noble ambition\nof christianizing the world, he called science to his aid,\nrevived the ancient canons that instituted schools for the\nliberal arts in the vicinity of cathedrals; [Footnote 190]\n\"desiring a saintly clergy, he wished them also learned.\"\n[Footnote 191]\n\n [Footnote 189: D'Espinay, _Influence of Canon Law on French\n Legislation_.]\n\n [Footnote 190: Innocent III. continued the work; he extended\n the obligation of acquiring knowledge among the priests. \"The\n bishop will ascertain,\" says he, \"the capacity of those on\n whom he confers holy orders. It is better to have a few who\n are learned to serve the altar than many who are ignorant.\"\n And in our own day the Roman College gives gratuitous\n instruction in the classics and in the higher sciences,\n theology, philosophy, law, medicine, astronomy, etc., which\n does not prevent the revolutionary journals from declaring\n the pontifical government an enemy of progress and of light.]\n\n [Footnote 191: Ozanam, _Le Christianisme chez les Barbares_.]\n\nAnd it is so truly the spirit of Christianity that schools are\nmultiplied in proportion to its diffusion. Clovis hardly received\nbaptism when schools were established even in his palace;\n[Footnote 192] the more fully kings were imbued with a Christian\nspirit, the more letters were protected and honored. Theodosius,\nwho almost attained to sanctity by his penitence, decreed that\nmasters, after teaching twenty years, should be ennobled with the\ntitle of count, and be on an equality with the lieutenants of the\nprefect of the pretorian guards; and Charlemagne, the great\nChristian emperor, established under his eye an academy, which,\nwe are told, was called the Palatial School: the palace was\nconsecrated to science, and its true name would have been the\nScholastic Palace. [Footnote 193]\n\n [Footnote 192: Dom Pitra, _Rapport sur une Mission\n scientifique_, 1850.]\n\n [Footnote 193: Dom Pitra, _Histoire de St. L\u00e9ger_, ix.]\n\n\n II.\n\n The Tenth Century.\n\nWe are not contradicted. Yes, in the first centuries the church\nfavored knowledge; but there is an exception: from the ninth to\nthe eleventh century, letters almost entirely disappeared, the\nlight of knowledge was obscured, and this epoch is justly called\n_the night of the middle ages_.\n\nIt is not so; a multitude of witnesses prove how unfounded is\nthis prejudice. [Footnote 194]\n\n [Footnote 194: That is to say, the erudite men who have\n carefully studied this confused epoch and have arrived at the\n same conclusion, whatever their philosophical opinions:\n Littr\u00e9 and Ozanam, Daremberg and Villemain, Renan and\n Dantier, Hallam and Berrington, etc,]\n\n{602}\n\nLetters never perished. In the sanguinary tumult, the royal\noffspring of intelligence was saved by a pious hand, and\nprotected that it might be restored some day to the world--\ngreat, powerful, and fit to reign. [Footnote 195]\n\n [Footnote 195: In the tenth century, we include the end of\n the ninth and the beginning of the eleventh, as men who lived\n at the end of the seventeenth century and the commencement of\n the nineteenth are considered as belonging to the eighteenth;\n Fontenelle and Delille, for example.]\n\nCharlemagne was hardly laid in his tomb at Aix-la-Chapelle, when\nhis lords, barons, counts, dukes, and the inferior leaders\ndispersed and established in a thousand places their divided\nrule; furious and devastating wars overwhelmed the people and\nspread terror in every heart through the country; there was no\nlonger peace, security, or leisure. Were intellectual pursuits\nsuspended during that time? No. Throughout Europe, then a field\nof battle, sheltered in the valleys and intrenched on the summits\nof the mountains, were fortresses, which became the asylum of\nknowledge, with an army resolved to defend it--monks in their\nconvents. Italy was like a camp with a reserve corps of\ninstruction: there soldiers were formed and organized and drilled\nin the use of all kinds of arms; the Benedictines of Monte\nCasino, \"where ancient literature was constantly studied,\"\n[Footnote 196] the ecclesiastical schools of Modena, the\nepiscopal schools of Milan, the school of jurisprudence at Lucca,\nof rhetoric at Ravenna, of literature at Verona, of the seven\narts at Parma, of grammar at Pavia, and, in the midst, Rome,\nguardian of the heritage of ancient traditions and the seat of\nthe papacy, \"which has always surpassed all other nations in\nlearning.\" [Footnote 197]\n\n [Footnote 196: And a great number of other religious houses;\n as late as the seventeenth century there were more than three\n hundred.]\n\n [Footnote 197: Villemain, _Histoire de la. Litt\u00e9rature au\n Moyen Age_, lesson xx.]\n\nBeyond the Alps, traverse Provence, almost Italian, Languedoc,\nalso half Roman in learning and in language, on the banks of the\nLoire you will find these abbeys, famous as seats of learning:\nFleury, St. Benoit, and Ligug\u00e9, (near Poitiers;) and proceeding\nto the north, Ferri\u00e8re, Saint Wandrille, Luxeuil, Corbie, and Le\nBec, (in the eleventh century.) From Lyons you could see, far\naway on the mountain-heights of Switzerland, Reichnau, whose\ngarrison was re-enforced by foreigners who crossed the water,\n(Irish monks,) and St. Gall, whose monks quote the _Iliad_.\nIn Spain, Christians did not strive in valor alone with the\nMoors; they vied in learning with the Arabs, and studied and\ntranslated their works. The _m\u00e9l\u00e9e_ was universal.\nLuitprand, an Englishman, who took part in it, as well as\nGerbert, a Frenchman, heard ten languages spoken there; among\nothers, Hebrew, Arabic, Greek, and Latin. [Footnote 198]\n\n [Footnote 198: Greek by merchants, Hebrew by the Jews, Arabic\n everywhere, while Latin is the foundation of the national tongue.]\n\nCross the Channel: in England at every step are colleges and\nseminaries: that far-off murmur comes from the seven thousand\nstudents of Armagh, in Ireland. And if you penetrate the wilds of\nGermany, among the Saxons but just converted, you will discover\nthe advanced posts--the school of Fulden, founded by St.\nBoniface; New Corbie on the Weser, where, at a later day, were\nfound the five books of the _Annals_ of Tacitus; and what is\nmore, a convent of learned nuns--the Monastery of Roswitha.\n\nThis is the main army, and it is not without support. The leaders\nof the people and the directors of souls do not abandon these\nvaliant troops. Kings, when they have the power and the leisure,\nsend them reenforcements: there are the schools of Eugene II. for\nthe study of the liberal arts; of grammar under Lothaire in\nFrance of jurisprudence at Angers; of Edward the Confessor in\nEngland. It is not till the time of Henry of Germany that princes\nare unmindful of them. He would not listen to the petition of a\npoet for schools of _belles-lettres_ and law. These are the\nscattered forts that support and bind together the main army.\n\n{603}\n\nBut perhaps they are destitute of arms and have no arsenals and\nammunition? What, then, are all these books of medicine dating\nfrom the seventh to the tenth century, \"accumulated in all the\nconvents\"? [Footnote 199]--the celebrated libraries of Ferri\u00e8re\nand Bobbio, which owned Aristotle and Demosthenes; of Reichnau,\nwhich in 850 possessed four hundred volumes catalogued; the Greek\nmanuscripts of the tenth and eleventh centuries discovered at\nRome, Verona, Monte Casino, [Footnote 200] and at\nTournay:[Footnote 201] the copies of ancient authors, made in the\nninth and tenth centuries by the monks of St. Gall? [Footnote\n202] Do you not hear resounding the most illustrious names--of\npoets, historians, philosophers, and orators--Homer, Seneca,\nOvid, Sallust, and Pliny? [Footnote 203] This one, like a\nwatchman who calls for help from the mountain-heights, (Lupus,\nabbot of Ferri\u00e8re to Pope Benedict III.,) requests the loan of\nthe _Orator_ of Cicero, the _Institutions_ of\nQuintilian, and a commentary of Terence; another (see _Life of\nSt. Columba_) quotes Titus Livius; others (see _Acts of the\nSaints_) quote Horace; treaties are fortified with passages\nfrom Cicero; [Footnote 204] and there is not a barbarous\nchronicle in which there are not lightning-like flashes from the\ninspired lines of Virgil. [Footnote 205]\n\n [Footnote 199: Dander, _Missions scientifiques_.]\n\n [Footnote 200: Renan, _Missions scientifiques_.]\n\n [Footnote 201: Dom Pitra, _ibid_.]\n\n [Footnote 202: Dander, _ibid_.]\n\n [Footnote 203: There are proofs, says Daremberg, that the\n Franks of the age of Charlemagne read Pliny. These books were\n not lost, but preserved in the convents.]\n\n [Footnote 204: Dom Pitra, _Missions scientifiques_.]\n\n [Footnote 205: See Villemain, _Histoire de la Litt\u00e9rature\n du Moyen Age_, lesson x.]\n\nThey do not lack arms, and they make use of them. They have\ncaptains--leaders who are capable, learned, and indefatigable.\nThey are well known: Abbo, abbot of Fleury-sur-Loire, who is\ncalled the \"Alcuin of the tenth century,\" who wrote a history of\nthe popes, on philosophy, physics, and astronomy, and the\ncommander of a numerous corps of more than five thousand\nstudents, among whom is one who translated Euclid; [Footnote 206]\nFlodoard, author of _La Chronique de France_; the thirty-two\nprofessors of _belles-lettres_ at Salernum; St. Fulbert and\nHenry of Auxerre, in France; Elphege at Monte Casino; in Spain,\nPetrus Alphonsus, who compares the literature of France with that\nof his own country; [Footnote 207] in England, Odo and St.\nDunstan, a geometrician, musician, painter, and\nsculptor;[Footnote 208] and finally, that wonderful man, who made\nthe tour of the world of learning and was familiar with every\npart of it--mathematics, mechanics, astronomy, literature, and\nphilosophy--at once a prince of the church and of science--\nGerbert. [Footnote 209]\n\n [Footnote 206: There is a second Abbo in the tenth century--\n a monk also, and a poet.]\n\n [Footnote 207: In his book _De Disciplina Cleri_. See\n Dom Pitria, _Histoire de St. L\u00e9ger_.]\n\n [Footnote 208: Berrington, _History of Literature in the\n Ninth and Tenth Centuries_.]\n\n [Footnote 209: Gaillard, in his _Histoire de\n Charlemagne_, gives a list of masters who succeeded each\n other without interruption from Alcuin till the twelfth\n century.]\n\nBut, blockaded in their fortresses by barbarism, brigandage, and\ntyranny, what important deeds could they achieve, what feats of\narms, what expeditions? In the first place, they held their\nposition by keeping the ramparts in constant repair.\n{604}\nIn the scriptorium of every abbey, a numerous detachment of\npatient copyists, bending all day over manuscripts, transcribed\nthe holy books and the masterpieces of antiquity, and rendered\neminent service to the arts, to letters, and to history by\npreserving and keeping in order the store of munitions which\notherwise would have been squandered and for ever lost. At the\nsame time, watchful sentinels on the walls observed all that was\npassing in the world without, and made an exact report of it;\nthat is to say, they drew up those chronicles, charters, and\ncartularies in which were recorded facts, names, contracts,\ndonations, and the changes in the countries in which they lived,\namong the people they directed, in the lands they cultivated, the\nsovereigns who ruled over them, and the conquerors who despoiled\nthem. [Footnote 210]\n\n [Footnote 210: It is sufficient to mention the\n _Polyptique_ of the abbot Irminon, (tenth century,) and\n the numerous cartularies that have been published within half\n a century.]\n\nAnd that the descriptions might be complete, painters illuminated\nthe margins of the vellum manuscripts, supplying by delicate and\nfaithful miniatures in the brightest colors what was wanting in\nthe text, general details respecting the splendor of the\nvestments, the sculptures on the walls and the ornaments of the\nhouses, thus bequeathing to posterity a lively and true portrayal\nof their time. And the whole makes up the immense and\ninexhaustible treasure where we find depicted the manners,\ncustoms, classes of society, the nature of the soil, and facts\nrespecting the tillers of the earth, their lords, and the church,\nforming the moral, industrial, and agricultural history of all\nChristendom. These transcripts, chronicles, and paintings are the\nmagazines, casemates, and bastions without which the citadel of\nletters and science would have been dismantled and rendered\nuninhabitable for generations to come!\n\nThey did not confine themselves to this; nothing was neglected\nthat should occupy a well-organized army; first, regular\nexercise, which makes the soldier active, robust, and ready for\nany duty; the study of the liberal arts, divided into two classes\nfor the recruits and the veterans: the _quadrivium_,\n(arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy,) and the\n_trivium_ (grammar, rhetoric, and dialectics. [Footnote 211]\n) These labors were carried on in the interior of the fortress.\nThey also made expeditions and sallies to keep the ways of access\nclear--commentaries upon authors, variations of texts, (as the\ncommentaries on the _Fasti_ of Ovid, [Footnote 212] the\ntreatise _De Senectute_, with different readings of the same\ntext, [Footnote 213] and numerous manuscripts with Greek\nannotations.[Footnote 214]) They undertook sieges, for a\ntranslation may be called a siege; everywhere you could find real\nworkshops for translating Greek authors into Latin, such as books\nof medicine, (Galen, Hippocrates, and Oribasus,) the fathers,\n(the _Homilies_ of St. John Chrysostom,) and the principal\nancient authors, [Footnote 215] (the _Logic_ of Aristotle.)\nUnder the guidance of the leaders already named, they went forth\nto daily combat and even to fight great battles; in the schools,\ncolleges, monasteries, and public lectures, professors, doctors,\nand students [Footnote 216] stimulated the public mind; they\ntouched on every science, and treated, under the names of\nnominalism and realism, of all those questions about which man is\ncontinually agitated--his nature, his origin, his relations with\nGod, and his destiny;\n\n [Footnote 211: Mentioned by Roswitha in the tenth century.]\n\n [Footnote 212: Found at Reichnau by M. Dantier.]\n\n [Footnote 213: At Mr. Philipps's in England, by Dom Pitra.]\n\n [Footnote 214: At Monte Casino, by M. Renan.]\n\n [Footnote 215: See Daremberg, _ibid_. A proof, says M.\n Littr\u00e9, in _Les Barbares et le Moyen Age_, that during\n the Merovingian and Carlovingian periods the Greek filiation\n of the sciences was preserved. As to medical science, he\n adds, it is evidently not a simple question of medicine.]\n\n [Footnote 216: B\u00e9ranger, Lanfranc, Roscelin, etc.]\n\n{605}\n\nstruggles constantly renewed, in which they fought furiously and\ndisplayed all their strength by quotations from authors,\nallusions to celebrated events and to sayings of antiquity, (for\nexample, the sarcasm of Julian to the Christians, mentioned by\nRoswitha; [Footnote 217] the veil given by a king of England to\nthe Abbey of Croyland, on which was embroidered the Ruin of Troy;\n[Footnote 218] the Latin war hymn chanted at Modena, which\nalludes to the devotedness of Codrus; [Footnote 219]) brilliant\ntournaments in which, like knights of prowess, some endeavored to\ndistinguish themselves by a display of erudition better suited,\nit might seem, to the refined age of the sixteenth century than\nto the tenth. They signed acts written in Greek; [Footnote 220]\nin Latin verse; [Footnote 221] they wrote the lives of the saints\nin French verse; [Footnote 222] the kings of England prided\nthemselves on the name of [Greek text]; they spoke Greek in\nordinary intercourse. [Footnote 223] These knights of science,\nlike the paladins in the combats with giants, displayed wondrous\nfeats. \"I am over shoes in Cicero's _Rhetoric,_\" writes\nIngulphus, Abbot of Croyland. [Footnote 224]\n\n [Footnote 217: Christians should congratulate themselves on\n being deprived of their riches, for Christ said: \"Every one\n of you that doth not renounce all that he possesseth cannot\n be my disciple.\" See the _Gallicanus_.]\n\n [Footnote 218: See Darboy, _Life of St. Thomas of\n Canterbury_.]\n\n [Footnote 219: A Latin hymn was also chanted at Pisa, in the\n eleventh century, to celebrate a victory over the Saracens.]\n\n [Footnote 220: At Poitiers, at the end of the ninth century.]\n\n [Footnote 221: At Sienna.]\n\n [Footnote 222: In 1050, Thibaud de Vernon, canon at Rouen.]\n\n [Footnote 223: The monks of England and Ireland.]\n\n [Footnote 224: Tenth century.]\n\nThey did not confine themselves to the defensive. In studying the\nancient writers they were inspired to imitate them, and they went\nforth into the open field and vied in a thousand works of the\nimagination--fiction, poetry--(hymns, poems of the eleventh\ncentury, and history.) What is more, they undertook fatiguing and\ndangerous expeditions into far-off and almost unknown countries--\narchaeology, which had not then a name, (see \"the valuable\nmanuscripts of the tenth century, discovered by Mabillon at\nEinsiedeln, which treat of Roman inscriptions;\") cosmography, in\nwhich they divined truths of the highest importance. The Irish\nmonk Virgilius taught in Bohemia the antipodes, and consequently\nthat the earth is round. He was not comprehended: they supposed\nhim to believe there were other lands under our earth, with\nanother sun, another moon, and inhabitants for whom Christ did\nnot die, and he was excommunicated. He went to Rome, where he was\npermitted to explain his theory; the pope withdrew his anathema\nand elevated him to the episcopacy. [Footnote 225] Finally, the\ndrama, into which was infused a new and original character.\nWhilst the monk Virgilius taught the true form of the earth, the\nnun Roswitha composed her tragedies, the first specimens of the\nChristian drama, at once full of the reminiscences of antiquity\nand the spirit of the gospel.\n\n [Footnote 225: Quatrefages, _Peuplement de l'Am\u00e9rique_,\n which proves:\n 1. The geographical knowledge of the times.\n 2. The perpetuity of tradition.\n 3. The intercourse of different nations.\n 4. The tolerance of the church.\n Bouillet, in his _Dictionnaire universelle d'Histoire\n et de G\u00e9ographie_, is deceived on this point.]\n\nYou will see by all this activity, this animation, and these\nnames, \"that the tenth century has been unjustly accused of\nbarbarism\" (Magnin)--that age in which there was such a taste\nfor classical studies that \"many Christians,\" says Roswitha,\n\"preferred the vanity of pagan books to the utility of the Holy\nScriptures, on account of the elegance of their style,\" and that,\nfar from meriting the appellation of the Iron Age, it should\nrather be called \"a great centre of light.\" [Footnote 226]\n\n [Footnote 226: Dom Pitra, _Rapport sur une Mission\n scientifique._ To all these works add the memoir of\n Ozanam, _Des Ecoles et de l'Instruction publique en Italie\n au Temps barbares_, in which he clearly demonstrates that\n letters never ceased to be cultivated.]\n\n{606}\n\nWhen we look down from the lofty elevation of the nineteenth\ncentury, which is called the age of progress, into this deep gulf\nof the middle ages--the ninth, tenth, and eleventh centuries--we\nare not astonished at its darkness, but by the brilliant rays\nthat issue from it. It is not an abyss. At the first glance there\nseem to be only a few points of light; but the eye is soon\nattracted by a multitude of peaks everywhere rising up with\nbrilliant summits and resplendent glaciers sparkling with radiant\nlight. We are astonished and give ourselves up to admiration, in\nthe words of the poet who, perceiving the Alps afar off, thinks\nthat\n\n \"Ces monts glac\u00e9s\n Ne sont qu'affreux d\u00e9serts, rochers, torrents, ab\u00eemes,\"\n\nbut who, when he reaches them,\n\n \"Y trouve, ravi,\n De l'ombre, des rayons, des solitudes vertes,\n Des vergers pleins de dons, des chaumi\u00e8res ouvertes\n A l'hospitalit\u00e9. ...\n Des coteaux aux flancs d'or, de limpides vall\u00e9es,\n Et des lacs \u00e9toil\u00e9s des feux du firmament\" [Footnote 227]\n\n--finds the hospitality of the church, the solitude of\nmonasteries, and the firmament of Christianity!\n\n [Footnote 227: Lamartine.]\n\n\n III.\n\n Intercourse Of Nations.\n\nDoubt is still displayed. There are other objections. Noblemen\ndid not know how to read, women lived in ignorance; how could\nknowledge be diffused when people within fortified walls and the\nnarrow limits of their territories could with so much difficulty\nhold communication with each other?\n\nThere is a false idea of the middle ages. It is imagined that\nmen, so independent and so wilful, remained stationary and shut\nup in their fortresses without endeavoring to see and know each\nother. It is precisely the contrary. There was a constant and\nardent desire for intercourse which caused nations to mingle and\nexchange languages, ideas, and customs. What was the consequence\nof the incessant wars, if not to lead men of the North to the\nSouth, those of the East to the West, the people of Normandy to\nNaples and to England, the Britons of Armorica into Great\nBritain, and _vice versa_, (from the fifth to the eleventh\ncentury;) [Footnote 228] the Burgundians into Lusitania, where\nthey founded the kingdom of Portugal, (Henry of Burgundy, in the\neleventh century, accompanied by knights and troubadours)? And\nthen the varied and extensive commerce of the great cities of\nFrance and of the rich and industrious Flemish cities, whose\nports, filled with vessels from every land, resounded, as we are\ntold by the chroniclers, with the sounds of all languages? And\nthe celebrated fairs, Beaucaire, Novgorod, and the Landit, (at\nSt. Denis,) rallying-points for the merchants of Europe, Egypt,\nAsia, and the islands of the Levant--and which were the universal\nexpositions of the productions of the middle ages? The bold\nenterprises of the Italian republics, powerful through commerce,\nwhich owned vessels enough to transport the entire army of the\ncrusaders, and which owned a part of the East--the Genoese, the\nfaubourgs of Constantinople; the Pisans, several ports in Syria;\nthe Venetians, the Morea and Crete, the Archipelago; which\ntrafficked not only with the rest of Europe, but with the coast\nof Barbary, Tunis, and Morocco, [Footnote 229] in fact, with the\ninterior of Asia, into which its adventurous citizens penetrated,\n(as in the case of Marco Polo and several others,) and with the\nextreme East, which the nineteenth century has only just\ndiscovered, if we may dare say so, and allied with the rest of\nthe world. [Footnote 230]\n\n [Footnote 228: La Villemarqu\u00e9, _Discours au Congr\u00e8s celtigue\n de Saint-Brieuc_, 1867.]\n\n [Footnote 229: Malastrie, _Missions scientifiques_.]\n\n [Footnote 230: The Venetian Sanuto penetrated as far as\n Cambodia; a goldsmith of Paris settled in China; merchants from\n Breslau and Poland met Genoese, Pisan, and Venetian merchants\n in the interior of Tartary, etc. See Le Bas, _Pr\u00e9cis de\n l'Histoire du Moyen Age_.]\n\n{607}\n\nThe love of knowledge also drew nations together. Learned men did\nnot hesitate to undertake long journeys, to cross the Alps, the\nPyrenees, and the sea, that they might pursue their studies in\nItaly, (as Fortunatus at Ravenna in the sixth century,) obtain\nbooks on medicine, (Richer in the eleventh century,) [Footnote\n231] meet English students in Spain, (Peter the Venerable in the\ntwelfth century,) hold converse with some doctor at Bologna, or\nsome monk in a monastery of the Apennines. How could there be no\nintercourse between the universities of Salamanca, of Pavia, of\nOxford, and of Paris, when the same questions were discussed at\nthem all; when the metaphysical heresies which sprang from one\nwere refuted in another five hundred leagues distant; [Footnote\n232] when the masters and pupils of Germany, England, Spain,\nFrance, and Italy flocked to these schools; from France to Padua,\nfrom England to Valencia, and from all countries to Paris, where,\nalmost at the same time, disputations were carried on by\nEnglishmen, Italians, Irishmen, and Germans, who were to be known\nas Dante, Duns Scotus, Roger Bacon, Brunetto Latini, Albertus\nMagnus, Alexander of Hales, and St. Thomas Aquinas?\n\n [Footnote 231: Daremberg, _ibid_.]\n\n [Footnote 232: And there were such close relations between\n the factions in France and those of England, that, in the\n fourteenth century, the revolutionary movements in Paris\n coincided with those in London. See Naudet, _Conjuration d\n Etienne Marcel_.]\n\nIt has been said that for literature to flourish, a nation must\nbe invigorated by powerful and varied deeds: [Footnote 233] at\nwhat epoch was there a more stirring and varied life than in the\nmiddle ages?\n\n [Footnote 233: Madame de Sta\u00ebl.]\n\nFollow the continued journeys of the poet-historian Froissart to\nand fro in every direction, in France and without, now at the\nfoot of the Pyrenees at the Chateau de Foix, and now in Italy,\nwhere, at Milan, he meets another poet, Chaucer of England, who\nhad come to visit Genoa, Padua, etc. From Brittany he goes to\nFlanders, and even to Zealand, where he forms a friendship with a\nPortuguese lord. He thinks nothing of crossing the water; he goes\nto England repeatedly, dwells there, and penetrates even to\nScotland, then \"an unknown land.\" He traverses France from one\nend to the other; is in Spain to-day and to-morrow in Germany.\nWould you not think you were reading the life of a modern\nindividual? He is called a chronicler: a chronicler indeed, and\nafter the manner of the men of our own time; like them,\nchronicler and tourist, traversing earth and sea to participate\nin festivities, witness battles, and mingle in courts. [Footnote\n234]\n\n [Footnote 234: But with this difference: he did not travel in\n a cushioned car going at the rate of forty miles an hour, but\n on horseback, at a good round trot, with spurs on his heels\n and his luggage behind.]\n\nYes, kings, conquerors, and those in pursuit of adventures took\nlong journeys with their armed followers, their vehicles,\nmachines, and engines of war; princes, nobles, and warriors\ntraversed Europe, escorted by brilliant cavalcades, upon their\nsteeds and palfreys; merchants landed on foreign shores, the\nwinds swelling the sails of their vessels; even learned men\ncrossed the water and the mountains to add to their knowledge;\nconquerors to found empires, princes to strengthen their power by\nalliances, and merchants to gain wealth. But there were men who\nsurpassed all these who were borne by chariots, vessels, and\nnoble horses--the pilgrims who went on foot.\n\n{608}\n\nCrowds, in constant succession, of men, women, and children, from\nall countries, undertook these pilgrimages to hundreds of holy\nplaces in Flanders, Spain, Rome, (where, says Villani, the\njubilee of 1300 led more than two hundred thousand pilgrims,)\nand, above all, to the Holy Land, which led to the wonderful\noutpouring of all Europe into Asia and Africa for three\ncenturies--the crusades, during which the West was brought into\ncontact with Egypt, and through Egypt with India; through\nConstantinople, where the Latins founded an empire that lasted\nmore than fifty years, with the Greeks, and through them with the\n_chefs-d'oeuvre_ of pagan and Christian antiquity, and from\nwhom they obtained books, manuscripts, agricultural implements,\nand a knowledge of industrial pursuits literature, and the arts.\n[Footnote 235]\n\n [Footnote 235: They brought back, among other books,\n Aristotle's works on metaphysics, and cane, millet,\n camel's-hair stuffs, etc.]\n\nAnd the monks, what long journeys they made in the world! Carried\naway by zeal for religion, they dispersed in every direction to\npreach the gospel; some to Prussia, Poland, and the extremities\nof Europe--to Norway; others from Greece, Egypt, and Syria to\nIreland; others still (in the time of St. Louis) into Tartary,\nand even into China, where they found traces of Christianity left\nthere by other monks who had preceded them. They went still\nfarther beyond Ireland and Norway into Iceland, and from Iceland\n(St. Brandan in the eighth century) into an unknown land, peopled\nby strange men, clad with the skins of marine animals, where they\nbuilt monasteries and churches, whence they penetrated still\nfarther into the interior, even as far as Mexico perhaps, leaving\nbehind them an ineffaceable remembrance, thus being the first to\ndiscover [Footnote 236] and inhabit the country to which they did\nnot give its present name, but which was really the southern\nextremity of the New World which, four centuries after, Columbus\ndiscovered, and which is called America.\n\n [Footnote 236: \"When, in the eleventh century, the\n Scandinavians landed in Greenland, the Esquimaux told them\n that at the south there were white men clad in long black\n robes, who walked chanting and carrying banners before them;\n they were the monks who, in the eighth century, had set sail\n for Iceland, and had been thrown by the wind on the American\n coast.\" (Ozanam, _Le Christianisme chez les Barbares_.)\n Dom Pitra (_Histoire de St. L\u00e9ger_) mentions a book of\n the sixteenth century on the voyages of the Benedictines into\n America--doubtless these monks lost among the savages, who\n left those signs of Christianity, crosses, a kind of baptism,\n etc., which were afterward found, and which otherwise would\n be inexplicable.]\n\nIt was neither thirst for riches, nor love of conquest, nor\nlonging for power, nor even enthusiasm for knowledge, that\ninduced them to undertake these extensive, dangerous, and\nfruitful enterprises; they were inspired by a more sublime\nsentiment--the love of God and of souls--the desire of devoting\nthemselves to God, and of leading to him new followers out of\nstrange nations.\n\n\n IV.\n\n Woman\n\nThere is no mark more distinctive of the character of individuals\nor nations than the treatment of woman. Christianity emancipated\nwoman; it brought her forth from the obscurity to which she had\nbeen banished, and taking her by the hand, introduced her into\nthe social world, and gave her a place beside man, that she might\nreceive the spiritual aliment which would develop her mind, as\nwell as elevate her soul. Taught by the example of Christ, the\nmost eloquent and learned of the fathers--those philosophers of\nno sect--Jerome, Gregory of Nazianzen, Augustine, Paulinus, and\nBasil, address numerous letters to women--to women, so disdained\nby paganism that not a single letter to a woman is to be found in\nall the correspondence of Cicero. [Footnote 237]\n\n [Footnote 237: And of Pliny. If Seneca composed two\n treatises, _De Consolatione_, for Marcia and Helvia it\n was because his ideas were modified by contact with\n Christianity. And I see herein a proof, which has not been\n sufficiently noticed, of his knowledge of the Christian\n doctrine or of his acquaintance with St. Paul.]\n\n{609}\n\nBut it may be said that these women who showed themselves worthy\nof holding converse with such great men read and wrote Greek,\nLatin, and Hebrew, and belonged to the highest Roman society.\nThere are no women who are not noble. The church opened schools\nfor women where they received the same instructions as men.\n[Footnote 238]\n\n [Footnote 238: Dom Pitra, _Histoire de St. L\u00e9ger_, vi.]\n\nThere is, from the time of the illustrious patrician ladies who\nfollowed St. Jerome into the desert, St. Paula, St. Eustochium,\netc., [Footnote 239:] an uninterrupted list of nuns, of abbesses,\nwhom the church reveres as saints, and who might be claimed by\nthe literary world on account of their attainments. For example,\nSt. Radegonde, (in the sixth century,) who introduced into the\nmonastery of St. Croix, at Poitiers, the rule of St. Caesarius,\nwhich obliged all the nuns to the study of letters, that is to\nsay, Latin, the fathers, canonical law, history, cosmography,\netc., to devote two hours a day to reading besides that which\nthey listened to during labor and their meals, and to the\ntranscribing of books, etc. etc.; Lioba, at Bischofsheim, in\nGermany, the mistress of a school in a barbarous country who only\nleft her books to pray; [Footnote 240]\n\n [Footnote 239: And Marcella, Blezilla, Paulina. Fabiola, (of\n the family of Fabii,) Furia, (of the family of Camillus,\n Melania, Marcellina, etc.)]\n\n [Footnote 240: See Dom Pitra, _ib_. He mentions St.\n Aldegondes, St. Anstrude, etc. The monastery of Lioba, he\n says, was like a normal school with respect to the other\n schools springing up in Germany.]\n\nSt. Bertille, at Chelles; St. Gertrude, in Belgium, (seventh\ncentury,) who sent to Ireland and to Italy for books; and those\npoor women who studied theology under St. Boniface, (eighth\ncentury;) and Roswitha, whose dramatic works display not only the\ninventive imagination of the poet, but a learning rare among\nwomen of any age, shown by her quotations from the ancient poets,\nthe historical facts she mentions, her knowledge of foreign\nlanguages, etc. [Footnote 241] A Gerbert and a Roswitha are\nsufficient to redeem a whole century from the charge of ignorance\nand barbarism; and if nuns in the heart of Germany made such\nattainments in literature, what must have been the women of the\nage of Charlemagne, of St. Bernard, and of St. Louis? Then the\ndaughters and nieces of the emperor took lessons of Alcuin: a\nqueen sang the sweet serenity of the cloister in graceful Latin\nverse; [Footnote 242] a young girl of Paris had for her teacher\none of the most celebrated professors of her time; [Footnote 243]\nand then was drawn up a course of studies in which were\nprescribed, such as these: [Footnote 244]\n\n [Footnote 241: Spanish particularly, proved by the\n _Hispanismes_ in her style, pointed out by her learned\n editor, Magnin.]\n\n [Footnote 242: Richarde, wife of Charles le Gros.]\n\n [Footnote 243: Helo\u00efse, and doubtless she was not the only\n one among the bourgeoisie of Paris. Recall also the learned\n nun mentioned in the beginning of Du Guesclin's life, who, in\n predicting his success, removed, as it were, the obstacles to\n his glorious career.]\n\n [Footnote 244: Boutaric, _Vie et OEuvres de Pierre du\n Bois_, in the memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions,\n 1864.]\n\n\"Children of both sexes, from five to twelve years of age:\n_reading_, (in the Psalter,) _singing, grammar, moral\ndistichs_, (of Cato,) and, a little later, Latin, which they\nwill learn to speak. Young girls: _natural history, surgery,\nmedicine, logic, Latin, and the oriental languages_\"--a plan\ndrawn up in the dark and ignorant middle ages, which could not be\neasily pursued even in this age, distinguished and enlightened by\nthe romances of so many women of genius!\n\n{610}\n\nWe need not wait till the time of Clemence Isaure (fourteenth\ncentury) to find a woman whom Christianity had imbued with taste\nand a delicate poetical nature. History, chronicles, and ballads\nhave opened to us the chateaux where, whilst the mail-clad baron\nand his armed followers fought without, his wife, seated in some\ndeep embrasure, would cast a glance from time to time through the\nnarrow window upon the varied landscape, and then resume, in the\nlarge, open volume before her, the fabulous and heroic exploits\nof knights and brave men among the paynim and giants; where, at\nnightfall, in the midst of her servants and followers, she\nlistened smilingly and thoughtfully to some wandering troubadour\nsinging of war, of love, and of tournaments, and relating his\nadventures--a charming picture which allies the romantic\nchatelaine--passing by the elegant and trifling ladies of the\ncourt of the Restoration--with the strong-minded women of the\nseventeenth century, so captivating and so learned, who read\nphilosophical treatises, spoke several languages, studied the\ndoctors and fathers of the church, and who are considered by the\nworld as models of wit, taste, elegance, and grace: Longueville,\nMontausier, Lafayette, Rambouillet, Jacqueline Pascal, Maintenon,\nand S\u00e9vign\u00e9!\n\n\n V.\n\n The Nobility.\n\nBut it is necessary to make a painful avowal. In the midst of the\ngeneral diffusion of knowledge in monasteries, schools,\nuniversities, towns, boroughs, and villages, and even among the\npoor and lowly, there is one class of society which remained\nduring all the middle ages in shameful ignorance--the nobility.\n\nThe kings, however, who issued from its ranks, and who in all\nages prided themselves on the name of gentleman, were an\nexception. The sons of Clovis were the first pupils of the school\nestablished in his palace and directed by his chaplain. This\nexample was perpetuated. The princes of the Merovingian dynasty\npursued their studies in the monasteries, and literary habits\nbecame so congenial to them that, in some instances, they were\ncarried to excess and became a kind of mania, as in the case of\nthe prince called the _Clerc couronn\u00e9_. (Chilperic.) As to\nCharlemagne, who spoke the Latin language, understood Greek, made\nastronomical calculations, brought professors from Italy, (Peter\nof Pisa and Paul the Hellenist deacon,) and founded the first\nacademy and the first university, it is useless to insist on him,\nfor he is universally acknowledged to be at once a hero, a\nlearned man, and a saint. Nor are the literary tastes of the most\neminent sovereigns denied, as Alfred the Great, the translator of\nAEsop and commentator of Bede; Charles le Chauve, who had\nAristotle and Plato explained to him by masters from\nConstantinople; Alfonso the Wise, astronomer, legislator, and\nhistorian; Robert the Pious; Otto II., who appointed Gerbert, the\nwisest man of the age, tutor to his son; Frederick II., who spoke\nGerman, French, Arabic, Latin, and Greek; and Philip Augustus,\nthe patron of literature and the arts, \"who, for that age, was as\nmagnificent as Louis XIV.\" [Footnote 245]\n\n [Footnote 245: Villemain, _ibid_.]\n\n{611}\n\nAnd later than the twelfth century, is it astonishing that St.\nLouis admitted St. Thomas of Aquin to his table, where, in his\npresence, were discussed the highest questions of philosophy?\nThat the rule of study drawn up for John, son of Philip of\nValois, included Latin and several languages? [Footnote 246] That\nCharles V. collected at the Louvre a library of considerable\nsize, and that his brothers, the dukes of Burgundy and Berri,\ncarried away by love for the arts, ordered miniatures, which are\nadmirable paintings, from the celebrated painters, Memling, Van\nEyck, and Jean Fouquet? But we are approaching the time of the\nRestoration, and consequently all these facts prove nothing.\n\n [Footnote 246: In a memoir addressed to the queen in 1334 and\n composed of one hundred and six articles, the unknown author\n gives the king's daily rule of life as follows: \"Rise at six\n all the year round--Mass at seven--business till ten--supper\n at six--to bed at ten--to have his son taught several\n languages, even Latin, to fit him to travel.\"]\n\nBut were these enlightened, well-informed, and even learned\nmonarchs satisfied with their own attainments, and did they live\nin their courts among brutal, ignorant, and coarse warriors who\ncould only talk of combats and gallantry? No; it is well known\nthat their principal vassals, the minor sovereigns, especially\nthose of Southern France, where the learning of Rome was\ndiffused, were not wholly unlettered. In the ninth century, there\nwas the son of a Count (Maguelonne) St. Benedict of Amiane, who\nwas at the head of all the monasteries in France, and who\ncompared, modified, and wrote commentaries on the rules of the\nvarious religious orders--Greek as well as Latin; Foulques, Count\nof Anjou, in the tenth century--yes, in the tenth century, that\ndarkest period of the middle ages--understood Aristotle and\nCicero, as has been proved, and in the following century, when\nthe leaders of the crusades assembled at Jerusalem to draw up a\ncode of laws--a civil and political code--charter of\ncitizenship, etc., they evidently understood not only the general\ncustoms, but Roman law; and several of them (Iselin, etc.) were\nno less proficients in the law than valiant knights; [Footnote\n247] finally, if the muse of France would trace its ancestry back\nto former times, it would find two princes, William of Poitiers\nand Thibaut of Champagne. It is right, then, to leave out the\ntestimony of sovereigns.\n\n [Footnote 247: Robertson, in his introduction to the\n _History of Charles V._, is mistaken when he says the\n middle ages were ignorant of Roman law until the twelfth\n century. Roman law was not revived by the discovery of a copy\n of the Pandects at Amalfi: it was always known and practised:\n it was cited at the tribunals, and generally known during all\n the middle ages, as demonstrated by Savigny, _Histoire du\n Droit romain au Moyen Age._ See also Fauriel, _Histoire\n des Populations m\u00e9ridionales_.]\n\nHistory also certifies a very singular fact: the leaders, the\n_leudes_, under the Merovingians, sent their children to the\nschool at the palace \"to be initiated in palatial learning.\"\nThere they underwent examinations, studied the fathers, history,\nlaw, religious dogmas, received degrees, etc. This fact is thus\nexplained: these young men were hostages that the king kept at\ncourt to insure the fealty of their fathers, no doubt; and the\nconsequence of this truly barbarous idea was to convert a prison\ninto a school and an academy! There was another custom almost as\nsingular: these young men are represented as travelling, even in\nthe earliest ages, in the various countries of Europe--France,\nSpain, and Italy--and in the East. Yes, notwithstanding the\ninsecurity of the routes, it was the fashion in the seventh\ncentury to send young Englishmen to France to be reared, and even\nin many cases across the Alps to Rome, Padua, etc. Some went to\ncomplete their education in Greece, and, after the establishment\nof the Latin Empire, at Constantinople. These young men\napparently belonged to wealthy and noble families.\n{612}\nAnd we would recall the fact that in the schools directed by\nClement, a Scotchman, Charlemagne assembled--strange idea!--\"a\ngreat number of children of all classes from the highest to the\nlowest rank;\" [Footnote 248] that among the pupils of Lanfranc,\nat the abbey of Bec, were a great number of the children of lords\nand barons, and, among others, William, Duke of Normandy, and\nthat son of an Italian nobleman who, later, was known as Pope\nAlexander II. It would appear that these young men did not allow\nthe faculties they had developed to remain unproductive and\nuseless, from the fact that the earliest poets were princes and\nnobles. But then, poetry is the offspring of the imagination and\nof genius, and the French race, particularly in the South, are so\nrichly gifted therewith!\n\n [Footnote 248: The monk of St. Gall, mentioned by Phil. le\n Bas, _ibid_.]\n\nWhat is more surprising, the first French historians were two\nlords: Villehardoin in the twelfth century, and Joinville in the\nthirteenth--historians not without culture. There are in their\nlanguage elegance, distinction, and Attic wit. They mention,\n_en passant_, and without affectation, names and facts that\nattest varied knowledge, and their style is so perfect that\ncompetent writers have concluded that the nobility moulded the\nFrench language to history and poetry--the ideal and the\npractical! [Footnote 249] It is probably to these studious habits\nand this inclination for intellectual pursuits, perpetuated for\nages like a tradition, is due the delicate and correct taste\npeculiar to the French nobility of the last two centuries, and\nthe noble ambition of the great lords who have not been satisfied\nwith protecting the arts, but have deemed it an honor to have\ntheir historical names inscribed on the list of the academies,\nhave striven to acquire a knowledge of letters, to excel in it,\nand to add to the lustre of their descent brilliancy of talent\nand the glory reserved for intellectual labors.\n\n [Footnote 249: Villemain, _ibid_., L\u00e9op. Delisle, A. de\n la Borderie, Marchegay. See also Aud\u00e9, M\u00e9moires de la Soci\u00e9t\u00e9\n d'Emulation de la Vend\u00e9e, and the works already mentioned of\n Boutaric, Littr\u00e9, Pierre Cl\u00e9mnent, etc.]\n\nFinally--for we must collect testimony for the acquittal of the\naccused--since the judgment has been so severe, the most\nconscientious and erudite men of modern times, having traversed\nthe middle ages and returned laden with documents, declare that,\namong the numberless titles that passed through their hands, they\nnever met this formula, so often mentioned: this one, being a\nnobleman, attests his inability to sign his name.\n\nYet in spite of these proofs, these attestations, and the\nauthority of the witnesses, there is one fact beyond doubt,\n_the absolute ignorance of the nobility of the middle ages_,\nand we are forced, to our great regret, to conclude that this\nopinion must be accepted as a historical fact of the same class,\nand as clearly proved, as the so well authenticated facts of\nSixtus V. throwing away his crutches as soon as he was elected\nPope, Gilles de Raiz slaughtering his wives like Bluebeard,\nCharles V. participating in his own funeral rites at St. Just,\nMarie de Medicis dying of hunger in a garret at Cologne, and\nGalileo imprisoned in a dungeon of the Inquisition!\n\n{613}\n\n VI.\n\n Character Of The Knowledge Of The Middle Ages.\n\n\nThe language of a people is One of the Signs that mark its\nprogress Or decay. If the genius of a language is fully\ndeveloped, the nation is in its apogee; if it is not developed,\nor if it is losing its purity, the nation is progressing or\ndeclining. This is a truth remarked by one of the most active\nminds of the last century. \"In the thirteenth century,\" says\nRivarol, \"the French language had more nearly attained a certain\nperfection than in the sixteenth.\" [Footnote 250] He is\nastonished: he finds the fact \"very extraordinary,\" but he does\nnot explain it. The explanation is easy. The French language was\nmuch nearer perfection in the thirteenth than in the sixteenth\ncentury, because society was more firmly established. The\nsixteenth century was an age of transition, the dawn of a great\nera--an avenue leading to a large city which we pass through, but\nin which we do not linger. The men of that time, without being\naware of it, were preparing for the future. They collected\nmaterials for building from the remains of antiquity and the\nattempts of foreigners; they imitated and did not invent.\nConsequently their language was obscure and loaded with foreign\nidioms and antiquated expressions; it was neither bold, nor\nexpressive, nor clear; it was ornamented, rich, and redundant; it\nwas overladen like a tree not pruned; the fruit was hidden by an\nexcess of foliage. A great wind--the agitation of civil war--\nshook off this exuberant foliage and the fruit appeared; the sun\nof the seventeenth century warmed and colored it with its rays;\nthen it ripened, and the French language attained its definite\nform and became immortal.\n\n [Footnote 250: In his _Discours sur l'Universalit\u00e9 de la\n Langue Fran\u00e7aise_, always to the point, and often\n profound, a writer of our time goes still further: \"The\n language was fully developed and equal to our own,\" says M.\n Villemain, _Histoire de la Lit\u00e9rature du Moyen Age_,\n lesson x.]\n\nThe language of the thirteenth century was as complete and\nperfect as it could be. At that period were laid the foundations\nof Christian science. [Footnote 251] Doubtless, each age adding\nto the knowledge of mankind, that science was not as extended as\nnow, but it had the essential qualities of true science: it was\nanalytical; it constantly applied this axiom, which is the\ncondition of progress: _Mult\u00f9m, non multa_. Everything\ncorresponds: the science of the Egyptians was on a level with\ntheir arts; their philosophy was as complex as their religion was\nmysterious. It was the same in the middle ages. They possessed\nthe true religion, had right views of philosophy, attained to\neminence in the arts, and made accurate scientific observations.\nAnd late researches have shown that they greatly extended the\nknowledge they inherited from antiquity. [Footnote 252] Their\nalchemists and physicians were not charlatans. The general\nprinciples of Albertus Magnus and the Jewish and Arabian\nphysicians of Spain and Asia harmonize with those of modern\nscience. They were ignorant of certain phenomena, as a certain\nskill was wanting to the artists of the time; but this ignorance\ncan no more be raised as an objection than against the learned\nmen of our time for not knowing the scientific discoveries of a\nthousand years hence. It is not extent of knowledge that stamps\nan epoch as great, but the use it makes of it, and the logical\nconclusions it draws from its principles.\n\n [Footnote 251: _La Raison Catholique et la Raison\n philosophe_, ii., by Ventura.]\n\n [Footnote 252: Littr\u00e9, _ibid_.]\n\n{614}\n\nThe science of the middle ages was eminently logical, for it had\nits source in a mountain whose summit rises to heaven--in\ntheology--whence it flows in streams upon all minds. Theology,\nit has been said, [Footnote 253] is only the expression of an\nidea: it is much more, it is the sublime end of thought--the\nfirst of all sciences, the science _par excellence_--the\nscience of God. The sceptre of science belongs to Europe only\nbecause it had its source in theology, [Footnote 254] which\noccupied every mind in the middle ages--the greatest as well as\nthe narrowest minds--\"which, dwelling on great things, became\ngreat.\" It prompted them to other attainments. To climb to the\nheights of knowledge, they had to lay hold of the asperities of\nthe mountain and of all the branches of science one after\nanother; of jurisprudence, civil law--the branch nearest the\nsurface of the earth; then of the physical sciences; afterward of\ngeometry, algebra, astronomy, and the still higher branches,\ncanon law and philosophy! [Footnote 255]\n\n [Footnote 253: Villemain, _Histoire de la Litt\u00e9rature da\n Moyen Age_, lesson xviii. He evidently does not comprehend\n the influence of theology, for he adds, \"As in another age\n the public mind is expressed by politics, the theology of one\n epoch is the philosophy of another.\"]\n\n [Footnote 254: J. de Maistre.]\n\n [Footnote 255: The Oxford students and those of other\n universities studied at the same time civil and canon law.]\n\n\n\nAnd above all, and mingled with all, literature; for letters are\nthe expression of the mind itself--the universal mind--whilst\n\"the sciences require only a partial application of it.\"\n[Footnote 256] In the literature of a people are embodied its\nideas, manners, arts, industrial pursuits, worship, and its whole\nlife. By it man traverses countries and ages, imbibes their\nspirit, and strengthens his mind more than by any other study.\nThence the incessant study of ancient literature, which, in the\nthirteenth century, was more generally diffused than ever. Latin,\nthe language of tradition and of the church, the original\nlanguage of the present dominant nations of France, Italy, Spain,\nand even England, (Latin was spoken in England until the\nfourteenth century, and a great number of words in the English\nlanguage is derived from the Latin,) was understood by all\nclasses; discussions in Latin were carried on in universities,\nand grammar and Latin were taught in the village schools.\n[Footnote 257] They were constantly making researches; Villani at\nRome read Lucan, Virgil, Valerius Maximus; the scholars of\nCambridge wrote commentaries on Cicero. In France, Sallust and\nTitus Livius were translated, soon followed by Caesar, Ovid, and\nSuetonius, (under Charles V.) Greek became more universally known\nafter the taking of Constantinople by the crusaders; Aristotle\nwas translated into Latin by Michael Scott, and bishops in Italy\nwrote homilies in the language of Chrysostom. [Footnote 258]\nTheologians, philosophers, and poets were nourished by the\nvaluable and concise remains of antiquity; Dante, Petrarch,\nBoccaccio, as well as the Franciscan lyrics and the _Romance of\nthe Rose_. All the works of that time are full of ancient\nreminiscences.\n\n [Footnote 256: Expression of Napoleon I.]\n\n [Footnote 257: L\u00e9op. Delisle, _Les Classes agricoles en\n Normandie au treizi\u00e8me si\u00e8cle_.]\n\n [Footnote 258: Manuscripts seen by M. Renan, in the Vatican.\n _Missions scientifiques_.]\n\n{615}\n\nNevertheless, they did not neglect other languages. In the great\nintercourse of nations there was an exchange of idioms. How much\nis proved respecting that intercourse and the knowledge of\nlanguages, by the single fact that the Archbishop of Toledo, at\nthe Council of Lateran in 1215, delivered a discourse in Latin,\nand then repeated it for the laity in Spanish, French, and\nGerman. But they did not restrict themselves to the European\nlanguages. Why should not the learned men who went to seek\nknowledge from the Jews and the Moors, and studied Aristotle as\noften from the Arabian commentators as from the original works,\nendeavor to acquire the language of those they so often came in\ncontact with? and the adventurers who crossed the deserts into\nthe heart of Asia; and the Italian republics that traded with\nAfrica; the ambassadors that kings sent to the Khan of Tartary;\nthe merchants who daily saw, landing in their ports and mingling\nin their fairs, the turbans, pelisses, and caftans of merchants\nfrom Cairo, Aleppo, Bagdad, Novgorod, and Sarmacand? Besides, the\noriental languages had never been neglected. In the sixth\ncentury, King Gontran, at his entrance into Orleans, was\naddressed in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, and Syriac. [Footnote\n259] In the crowded schools of the eighth century were studied\nall languages, even the oriental, says Dom Pitra. From the tenth\ncentury the pilgrimages to the Holy Land and the crusades made\nthe language of the Saracens (Arabic) familiar to a great number.\nBut there was a still stronger reason which led to the\nacquisition of the Eastern languages--the conversion of the\ninfidels.\n\n [Footnote 259: See Gregory of Tours.]\n\nThe course of study already mentioned was inspired by a great\nidea--Christian in its nature--the conquest of the East by the\ninfusion of Christianity; regeneration by civilization, to use\nthe modern expression. The noble mind that conceived it wished to\ncontinue the work of the crusades by diffusing the doctrines,\nopinions, and arts of Christendom: after arms, the sciences.\nFrance, in its enthusiasm for proselyting, wished to send on a\nmission of priests, artisans, physicians, women, entire families,\nin fact, a whole colony. These people would establish themselves\nin the Holy Land, colonize it, found a Christian race, and from\nthat sacred spot--from Mount Zion--diverge on every side, into\nAfrica as well as Asia, into Egypt, Mesopotamia, Persia, and\nArabia; mingle among the people enveloped in darkness, (the term\nis just in this case,) influence them by their actions, morals,\nintelligence and good deeds, and accomplish in that age--the\nthirteenth century--the providential work that Europe, without\nentirely knowing what it is effecting, is realizing in our\nday--the transformation of the rest of the world, the union of\nsavage, barbarous, and brutal people into a universal nation who\nwill be guided by the spirit of the gospel. [Footnote 260]\n\n [Footnote 260: Abel de R\u00e9musat, _M\u00e9moire sur les Relations\n des Princes Chr\u00e9tiens avec les Empereurs Moguls_, quoted\n by M. Guizot, _Histoire de la Civilization en Europe_.]\n\nIt was in order to prepare laborers for this sublime enterprise\nthat this plan of studies, as varied as extended, was prepared.\nDo you not see all it supposes--the comprehension of the authors,\nschools, and men capable of applying the plan? And it did not\nremain a mere project; it began to be executed. The University of\nParis proposed to establish a professorship of the Tartar\nlanguage. It was not done till a later day, because the\nuniversity only acts with a view to science; but the church did\nnot delay, prompted by a more noble motive. At Rome it taught the\noriental languages in its colleges; at Paris, the monks of St.\nP\u00e8re de-Chartres, at the annual expense of one thousand francs,\nopened, for the space of three years, a school for young men from\nthe East, who returned to their country carrying with them the\nacquirements of the West and the eternal truths of religion.\n[Footnote 261]\n\n [Footnote 261: Cartulary of St. P\u00e8re de Chartres.]\n\n{616}\n\nThe councils (that of Vienna in 1311) decreed that the oriental\nlanguages. should be taught at Paris, Salamanca, Bologna, Oxford,\nand all the great universities. The church wishes to diffuse\nknowledge in order to evangelize the world; it arms men with\nscience that they may be more powerful, and it pushes them\nforward in the career of learning, that, at the end, they may\nfind God.\n\n\n VII.\n\n Ardor For Learning.\n\n\nAnd the church has always found disciples eager to listen to its\ninstructions. The very barbarians, it has been remarked, were not\naverse to study; they had, on the contrary, that innate taste for\nletters which distinguishes the Germanic race. The Franks were\neasily instructed; they mingled among the Gauls of the South in\nthe course of rhetoric and poetry, (at Bordeaux in the fifth and\nsixth centuries;) St. Medard, Bede, and Mici counted them by\nthousands in their schools. When the twelfth century opened more\nnumerous schools, an immense crowd hastened to them. It was an\ninvasion of recruits, who wished to learn the use of the arms of\nknowledge, in England, Germany, and Italy; at Milan there were\neighty masters who were laymen; France above all, displayed its\ncharacteristic ardor. At Paris, colleges were founded one after\nanother; two at the end of the twelfth century, fifteen in the\nthirteenth and fourteenth; one half of Paris was transformed into\nschools. That of the Canons of Notre Dame extended from the\nchurch to the Petit-Pont; then it passed over the left bank and\nascended the mountain [Footnote 262] --the mountain that has\npreserved the name of _Quartier Latin_--the true realm of\nscience imagined by the poets, where lived, in close proximity,\nturbulent bands of students from every land, in groups, according\nto their nations and languages.\n\n [Footnote 262: Vict. le Clerc, _Histoire de la Litterature\n au treizi\u00e8me si\u00e8cle_.]\n\nForeigners [Footnote 263] proclaimed Paris the centre of\nknowledge, and, in a right and elevated sense, the leader of\nEurope. There was then some merit in the pursuit of knowledge.\nThe name of one of the streets of Paris, the Rue du Fouare,\nso-called from the straw and hay upon which they seated\nthemselves, bears witness to the ardor of these students of the\ndark ages, less anxious for their ease than to obtain knowledge.\nThey rewarded their own masters, and valued no expense to obtain\nthose most renowned; they sent to all parts of Europe for them,\nand gave them a position often ten times more valuable than that\nof the professors of our time. [Footnote 264]\n\n [Footnote 263: John of Salisbury, Dante, Brunetto Latini,\n etc.]\n\n [Footnote 264: Le Play, _R\u00e9forme sociale_, (47,) and\n Mateucci, _Les Universites d'Italie, (Revue des Cours\n scientifiques_, 1867.)]\n\nIt was difficult for many to contribute their share in all this\nexpense, in addition to the cost of living in a large city; but\nin the hope of acquiring the knowledge, the poorer subjected\nthemselves to the most painful sacrifices. The romance of _Gil\nBlas_ depicts the young men of the University of Salamanca as\nvalets and students. What existed in Spain in the eighteenth\ncentury was the condition of many students of the middle ages.\nYes, they reduced themselves to servitude to obtain degrees, and\nmade themselves valets to gain their daily bread--a noble\nservitude for which they did not blush, which put the body in\nsubjection, and left the mind free, showing the superiority of\nmind over matter; it was a voluntary humiliation, which, for a\ntime, put the indigent scholar beneath the rich, but aided him to\nattain in the world the place due to intelligence and knowledge,\nto rise to the level of the most powerful, and often to the most\neminent dignities of the church and state--to the councils of\nkings and the purple of cardinals.\n\n{617}\n\nAnd what ardent scholars! It was the age of the schoolmen.\nScholastic learning, afterward so disdained by forgetfulness or\nignorance, was the animated, living, and natural form which gave\nexpression to the passionate love of those young men for study.\nThose descendants of the Franks rushed forward with the same\neagerness as to battle to share in the close reasoning, the logic\nthat contended so fiercely, that made every effort and climbed\ntooth and nail to obtain a position strongly contested. What\nvaliant armies! what soldiers in \"these tournaments that are like\ncombats!\" [Footnote 265] But what captains also! what leaders!\nwhat masters! St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Bonaventura, Albertus\nMagnus--at once theologians, philosophers, moralists,\npoliticians, writers on political economy, and savants! What a\ntrio in one century and at the same period!\n\n [Footnote 265: Bonald.]\n\nBut do you know what took place in the thirteenth century at the\ncourse of Albertus Magnus? Not hundreds but thousands of pupils\nhastened to his lessons. [Footnote 266]\n\n [Footnote 266: It was the same throughout the middle ages. At\n Bologna there were, in the thirteenth century, ten thousand\n pupils at the law school; in the eleventh century, they came\n from every land to attend the instructions of Abelard; he\n counted several thousand auditors, and among them twenty\n cardinals and fifty bishops. We could multiply these examples\n indefinitely.]\n\nIt was not ardor that animated them, but enthusiasm; an apartment\nwas not required to contain them, but a square! No enclosure\nwould have sufficed for such a multitude. A great commotion\nforced the master to leave his chair--a commotion such as is\nrarely seen in our days, in which the crowd cried to their\nteacher, \"Away from here!\" \"_Exi! Foras!_\"--a respectful\nuprising in which the master is proud to obey; he descends from\nhis chair into the midst of the crowd, which is roaring like the\nsea, and is borne away by a thousand arms to a large square,\nwhere, on an elevation of stone, he can overlook the countless\nhuman heads which extend back to the houses and fill up the\nopenings of the streets, but which are now motionless, attentive,\nand mute before the sound of a single voice that enchains them. O\nbarbarous generation! O age of darkness in which a master\nrequired the open air of heaven and the paved square for a\nclassroom! Compare the literary dilettantism of a few hundred\nyoung men enclosed within the walls of an amphitheatre of a\nhundred feet, with the ardent thirst of this crowd, which\nrequired not a jar, but a whole river, to satisfy its thirst for\nknowledge, and which has left a proof of its eager desire in the\ncapital and in the language, the name of the square into which so\nmany students crowded to hear their master--the Place Maubert,\nMagni Alberti--the Square of the great Albert!\n\nWe see how erroneous is the opinion that attributes to the epoch\nbetween the middle of the fifteenth and the middle of the\nseventeenth centuries the revival of letters and the arts.\nLetters were not revived; they still existed and enlightened the\nworld. \"The great agitation of the Reformation is often\nrepresented as having contributed to literary and scientific\ndevelopment,\" says M. A. Maury, a writer not suspected of\npartiality to the middle ages. \"This is not absolutely true.\n{618}\nThe contests to which it gave rise retarded for a time the\ndiffusion of knowledge; many monasteries, libraries, and schools\nwere suppressed, which had been, up to that time, the _great\nsources of light_.\" Christian historians were the first to\nbecome suspicious of error and to point it out. Hurter, the great\nGerman historian, says: \"Only superficial minds that disdain the\nstudy of documents and are blinded by the pretended superiority\nof our epoch, or by systematic hatred, dare accuse the church of\nhaving favored ignorance.\" [Footnote 267] All truly learned men\nsoon became of the same mind. One of them, who has made the\nmiddle ages his study for twenty years, cannot restrain his\nindignation: \"Our historians, even those who are considered the\nbest, dwelling on the grossest conjectures and influenced by\nobsolete prejudices, without thinking of verifying, still less of\nrectifying, old assertions, have summed up the whole history of\nthe first part of the middle ages in these two words,\n_ignorance and superstition_; but it is to themselves,\" he\nadds severely, \"and not to the ages they have misunderstood and\ncalumniated, that these two words should be applied.\" [Footnote\n268] \"The idea of progress is not a pagan idea,\" says Ozanam.\n[Footnote 269]\n\n [Footnote 267: _History of Innocent III_., book xxi.]\n\n [Footnote 268: Daremberg, _Cours of 1867_; and to the\n support of his opinions he brings Guizot, Dom Pitra, Ozanam,\n Heeren, etc.]\n\n [Footnote 269: _Histoire de la Civilisation an cinqui\u00e8me\n si\u00e8cle_, chap. iv.]\n\nThe doctrine of progress is as old as the gospel; and the author\nof _Les Etudes sur les Barbares et le Moyen Age_ confirms\nthis: \"The people of the middle ages felt the necessity of\nknowledge; they studied and labored conscientiously and\nenergetically, and marked each age by important developments.\"\nThe more carefully we examine those ages, the better shall we\nunderstand the extent of knowledge in the church. The most\neminent men of those times--who does not know them?--are bishops,\nmonks, and popes: Gerbert, St. Bernard, Innocent III., and St.\nThomas Aquinas, who can only be compared to Aristotle; the most\noriginal writers--who does not forget it?--are priests:\nFroissart, Petrarch, and later, Calderon, Lope de Vega, and Tirso\nde Molina; the greatest poet of the middle ages, Dante, was he\nnot a theologian? Cimabue, who revived the art of painting, was\nhe not reared among the Dominicans of Florence? Was not the first\npress in Paris set up at the Sorbonne? The best informed class of\nmen were so incontestably the clergy that the names of priest and\nsavant were confounded. The word _clergie_ in the middle\nages signified learned. [Footnote 270] The church takes the\nhighest rank in the world of science. It does not acquire\nknowledge for itself alone, but to diffuse everywhere, that the\nwhole earth may be enlightened. Like the sun, it is a great\ncentre diffusing the light it derives from God--its eternal\nsource!\n\n [Footnote 270: J. de Maistre, _Du Pape_, ii. 16.]\n\n ----------\n\n{619}\n\n From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n Chapter XVII.\n\nAt the end of a dark passage through the house was the farmyard,\nto which five or six well-worn steps descended. To the left were\nthe barn and the press; and to the right, the stables and the\ndove-cote, the dark shape of the last standing sharply outlined\nagainst the gray, misty sky. Opposite the door was the\nwash-house.\n\nNot a sound was heard. Hullin, after the wild and stormy day, was\nimpressed with the deep silence. He gazed at the tufts of straw\nhanging between the rafters of the barn, the harrows, the\nploughs, the carts, half hidden in the gloom of the sheds, with\nan indefinable feeling of calmness and satisfaction. Fowl were\nroosting along the wall, and a cat fled by like a flash, and\ndisappeared in the cellar. Hullin seemed waking from a dream.\n\nAfter a few moments of silent reverie, he turned slowly toward\nthe wash-house, the three windows of which shone through the\ndarkness. The kitchen of the farm-house was not large enough to\nprepare food for three or four hundred men, and the work had been\ncarried thither.\n\nMaster Jean-Claude heard the childish voice of Louise giving\norders in a tone so resolute that it astonished him.\n\n\"Come, come, Katel, hurry. It is nearly time for supper, and the\npoor fellows must be hungry. Just to think--fighting since seven\nthis morning, and not eating a morsel! Here, Lessele, move\nyourself. Salt! pepper!\"\n\nJean-Claude's heart beat at that voice. He could not avoid\npeering through the glass before entering. The kitchen was large\nbut low, and with white-washed walls. A huge fire of beech-logs\ncrackled and blazed upon the hearth, in the midst of which\nappeared the black sides of an immense pot. The chimney, high and\nnarrow, was scarcely large enough to carry off the billows of\nsmoke that arose. Near the fire was the graceful figure of\nLouise, lit up by the brightest tints that flashed from the\nhearth, bustling, active, coming, going, tasting sauces, trying\nthe meat, approving, and criticising.\n\nThe two daughters of the Anabaptist, one tall, dried up, and\npale, with large, flat feet, cased in great shoes, hair bound\nwith black ribbons into a little knot, and a long gown of blue\nstuff hanging down to her heels; the other, chubby, and waddling\nalong much like a goose, formed a strange contrast with her.\n\nThe good Anabaptist himself, seated at the end of the room upon a\nwooden chair, with feet crossed, cotton cap pulled well down upon\nhis head, and hands plunged into the depths of the pockets of his\nblouse, gazed on all that passed with an air of wonderment, and\nfrom time to time ejaculated sententiously:\n\n\"Lessele, Katel, do as you are told, my children. Let this be for\nyour instruction; you have yet seen nothing of the world. Walk\nquicker.\"\n\n{620}\n\n\"Yes, yes, you must move,\" added Louise. \"What would become of us\nif we meditated days and weeks about putting a little seasoning\nin a sauce? You, Lessele, are the tallest; unhook that bundle of\nonions from the ceiling.\"\n\nAnd the tall girl obeyed.\n\nHullin was proud and happy as a prince.\n\n\"How she makes them mind!\" he chuckled. \"What a little dragoon\nshe is! a very puss-in-boots! Ha, ha, ha!\"\n\nAnd he waited full five minutes before entering.\"\n\nLouise flung down the spoon she held, and rushed to him, crying:\n\n\"Father Jean-Claude! papa Jean-Claude! You are not hurt? you are\nnot wounded?\"\n\nPoor Hullin could not speak for a moment. He folded her tenderly\nin his arms, and at length replied, in a voice whose tremor he\ncould not repress:\n\n\"No, Louise, no; I am well and happy.\"\n\n\" Sit down, Jean-Claude,\" said the Anabaptist, seeing how his\nemotion affected him. \"Here, take my chair.\"\n\nHullin seated himself, and Louise, placing her hands upon his\nshoulders, burst into tears.\n\n\"What is the matter, my child?\" asked the old man in wonder. \"A\nmoment ago you were brave enough.\"\n\n\"Yes, I made believe, but I was very frightened. I thought--I\nthought, 'Why does he not come?'\"\n\nThen a sudden whim seemed to enter her little head; she seized\nher father's hand, and cried, laughing through her tears:\n\n\"Let us dance, papa Jean-Claude! Come, dance!\"\n\nAnd she pulled him around the room.\n\nHullin, smiling in spite of himself, turned to the Anabaptist,\nwho saw all that passed without a change in his grave visage, and\nsaid:\n\n\"We are somewhat foolish, Louise and I; but don't let that\nastonish you, Pelsly.\"\n\n\"It does not, Master Hullin. Did not King David dance when he had\nsmitten the Philistines hip and thigh?\"\n\nJean-Claude, rather astounded at his resemblance to King David,\nmade no reply.\n\n\"Well, Louise,\" said he, \"you were frightened during the battle,\nwere you?\"\n\n\"Yes, at first; the cannon-shots and the din were fearful! But\nafterward I only thought of you and mother Lefevre.\"\n\nThen she took him by the hand, and, leading him to a regiment of\npots, kettles, and pans, ranged around the fire, enumerated her\nforces with the air of a conqueror:\n\n\"Here is the beef; here is General Jean-Claude's supper; and here\nis broth for the wounded. But that is not all. Here is our\nbread,\" she added, showing him a long pile of loaves on the\ntable, and she was dragging him to the oven, when Catherine\nLefevre entered.\n\n\"It is time to set the table,\" cried the old woman. \"Everybody is\nwaiting. Come, Katel, spread the cloth.\"\n\nThe stout girl departed, running; all followed to the great hall,\nwhere Doctors Lorquin and Despois, Marc-Dives, and Materne and\nhis two sons, impatiently awaited the meal.\n\n\"How are the wounded, doctor?\" cried Hullin.\n\n\"Rest easy, Master Jean-Claude; all are cared for. You have given\nus a hard day's work; but the weather is favorable, and fever or\nmortification need not be feared. Everything looks well.\"\n\n{621}\n\nKatel, Lessele, and Louise soon entered, bearing an enormous\nsoup-dish, and two magnificent rounds of beef, which they placed\nupon the table. Sharp appetites left scant room for ceremony, and\nsoon the rattling of knives and opening of bottles alone were\nheard. Without, the broad flames from the bivouac-fires flashed\non the window-panes, and showed the mountaineers doing full\njustice to Louise's cheer.\n\nAt nine o'clock Marc-Dives started for Falkenstein with his\nprisoners. At ten, all in the house, or around the fires, were\nsleeping, and no sound broke the stillness save the passage of\nthe rounds and the challenge of the sentries.\n\nSo ended the first day in which the mountaineers proved that the\nspirit of their fathers had not degenerated in them.\n\nBut other and not less stern trials were soon to follow those\nalready past; for throughout man's life one obstacle is overcome\nonly to make way for another. The world is like a stormy sea:\nwave follows wave, from age to age, in a flow that eternity alone\nmay stay.\n\n\n\n Chapter XVIII.\n\nDuring the entire battle, until nightfall, the people of\nGrandfontaine saw the fool, Yegof, standing on the summit of\nLittle Donon, his crown upon his head, his sceptre waving in his\nhand. There he stood, like a Merovingian king, issuing his orders\nto his imaginary armies. What feelings shook him as he saw the\nGermans beaten back, routed, no man may say. At the last echo of\nthe cannon he disappeared. Whither had he gone? This is what the\npeople of Tiefenbach say:\n\nAt the time of which I speak, two strange beings--sisters--lived\non the Bocksberg. One was called Little Kateline; the other Tall\nBerbel. These two ragged creatures made their home in the cavern\nof Luitprand, so named, as old chronicles aver, from the fact\nthat the King of the Germani, before descending into Alsace,\nburied beneath its immense vault of red stone the barbarian\nchiefs who had fallen at Blutfeld. The hot spring, which always\nbubbles and streams from the middle of the cave, secured the\nsisters from the fierce cold of mountain winters, and Daniel\nHorn, of Tiefenbach, the wood-cutter, had the charity to close\nthe main entrance from without with great heaps of broom and\nbrushwood. At the side of the hot spring was another spring, cold\nas ice and clear as crystal.\n\nKateline always drank at this spring, and was not more than four\nfeet in height; but what she lacked in length she made up in\nrotund breadth; and her wondering look, round eyes, and enormous\nthroat, gave her the appearance of a meditative matronly hen.\nEvery Sunday she bore an osier basket to the village of\nTiefenbach, and the good people there filled it with cooked\npotatoes, loaves of bread, and sometimes, on holidays, with cakes\nand other remnants of their festivities. Then the poor creature\nwould make her way back to the cave, breathless, laughing,\nchattering, rejoicing.\n\nBut Tall Berbel was ever careful not to drink at the cold spring.\nShe was bony, fleshless as a bat, and had lost an eye; her nose\nwas flat, her ears large, and her single orb sparkled like a\ncoal; she lived upon the fruits of her sister's sallies. She\nnever left Bocksberg. But in July, when the heat was greatest,\nstanding upon the height, she shook a withered thistle over the\ngrain of those who had not regularly filled Kateline's basket;\nand fearful tempests, or hail, or swarms of rats or field-mice,\nruined the budding harvest. The spells of Berbel were feared like\npestilence; she was everywhere known as the _Wetterhexe_, or\nstorm-witch, while little Kateline was esteemed the good fairy of\nTiefenbach. In this way Berbel lived in idleness, and Kateline\nbegged food for both.\n\n{622}\n\nUnfortunately for the two sisters, Yegof had for some years\npreviously established his winter residence in the cavern of\nLuitprand. Thence he departed in the spring, to visit his\nnumberless castles and to count his feudatories, as far as\nGeierstein in the Hundsruck. Every year, toward the end of\nNovember, after the first snows, he arrived with his raven--an\nevent which the storm-witch always bitterly bemoaned.\n\n\"Again thy plaints,\" he was wont to say, as he tranquilly\ninstalled himself in the most comfortable spot the cave afforded;\n\"do you not both live upon my domains? I am very good to suffer\ntwo _valkyrs_ [Footnote 271] useless in the Valhalla of my\nfathers, to remain here.\"\n\n [Footnote 271: Maidens of Odin, whom he sends to every\n battlefield to decide who shall fall and who shall be\n victorious. They also wait upon the heroes in Valhalla.]\n\nThen would Berbel, aroused to fury, overwhelm him with reproach\nand insult, and Kateline look offended; but he, careless of the\nstorm he raised, would only light his old boxwood pipe, and\nrelate his far-off wanderings among the souls of the German\nwarriors, who, for sixteen centuries, lay buried in the cavern,\ncalling them by name, and speaking to them as to men yet living.\nYou may imagine with what delight Berbel and Kateline looked\nforward to the coming of the fool with his dismal tales.\n\nBut this year, Yegof had not come, and the sisters believed him\ndead, and duly rejoiced over the prospect of seeing him no more.\nNevertheless, the Wetterhexe had observed the agitation in the\nvalleys, the crowds of men, musket on shoulder, leaving\nFalkenstein and Donon. Surely, something strange had happened;\nand the sorceress, calling to mind that the preceding year Yegof\nhad related to the spirits of his warriors how his countless\narmies would soon invade the land, felt a vague uneasiness. She\nwould fain have learned the cause of the movement around her; but\nKateline having made her tour the Sunday before, would not again\nbudge from her home for an empire, and no one ever climbed to the\ncavern.\n\nIn this frame of mind Berbel came and went, wandered restlessly\nabout the cave, growing hourly more uneasy and irritable. But\nduring Saturday she had enough to think on. From nine o'clock in\nthe morning, heavy and deep peals rang like thunder over the\nmountain side, and awoke the thousand echoes of the valleys; far\naway toward Donon rapid flashes crossed what sky appeared between\nthe peaks; and as night approached, yet louder sounds rolled\nthrough every gorge, and the hollow voices of Hengst, of\nGantzl\u00e9e, Giromani and Grossmann replied.\n\n\"What can all this be?\" asked Berbel of herself, \"can the day of\ndoom have come?\"\n\nThen returning to the cavern and finding Kateline huddled in a\ncorner munching a potato, she shook her rudely and hissed:\n\n\"Idiot! hearest thou nothing? Fearest thou nothing? Carest thou\nfor nothing but eating and drinking?\"\n\nShe dashed the potato furiously to the ground, and sat herself\ntrembling by the hot spring, which sent its grey vapors to the\nroof. Half an hour later, the darkness growing deeper, and the\ncold intense, she lighted a fire of brushwood, which threw its\npale flashes over the vault of red stone, and pierced to the end\nof the cavern, where Kateline slept with her feet buried in a\nheap of straw, and her chin resting on her knees.\n{623}\nWithout, all noise had ceased. The storm-witch pulled aside the\nbriars at the entrance, and gazed down the mountain side; then\nshe returned to her post by the fire, her thin lips set tightly\ntogether, and her eyelids closed; she drew an old woolen coverlet\nover her knees, and seemed to sleep. No sound broke the stillness\nbut the dripping of the condensed steam falling from the vault\nback to its source with a melancholy plash.\n\nSo lasted the silence for hours. Midnight was nearing, when\nsuddenly the sound of footsteps, mingled with discordant noises,\nstarted Berbel from her slumber. She listened, and heard the cry\nof a human voice. She arose trembling, and, armed with a huge\nthorn branch, glided to the opening; there, pushing aside the\nbriars, she saw in the moonlight the fool Yegof advancing alone,\nbut writhing as if in agony, and beating the air with his\nsceptre, as if thousands of invisible beings surrounded him.\n\n\"To the rescue, Roug, Bl\u00e9d, Adelrick!\" he shouted in tones that\npierced the cold air like the clangor of an iron bell, his matted\nbeard and hair waving the while, and his dog-skin cloak folded\nlike a buckler around his left arm; \"to the rescue! Follow me to\nthe death! See you not who are coming, cleaving the skies like\neagles? On, men of the red beards! Crush this race of dogs! Ah!\nMinan, Rochart, are ye here?\"\n\nAnd then he called with savage shouts, upon all the dead of\nDonon, defying them as if they were really there; then he\nrecoiled step by step, still striking the air, hurling curses,\nurging unseen armies to the fight, and struggling as if\nsurrounded by foes. A cold sweat poured from Berbel's brow, she\nfelt her hair rise upon her head, and she would have fled; but at\nthe moment a strange murmuring arose within the cave, and, to her\nhorror, she saw the hot spring boiling fiercely, and masses of\nvapor rising from it and advancing to the entrance of the cave.\n\nLike phantoms the thick clouds came slowly on, and suddenly Yegof\nappeared, crying in a husky voice,\n\n\"At last ye have heard me! ye are come!\"\n\nWith a bound he darted to the opening. The icy air filled the\nvault, and the vapors pouring forth, twisted and wreathed beneath\nthe vast vault of heaven, as if the dead of to-day and those of\nlong gone centuries had begun a never-ending conflict.\n\nThe pale moonbeams shed a weird light over Yegof's face and form,\nas he stood with flashing eyes and sceptre outstretched, and\nbeard falling over his breast, saluting each phantom and calling\nit by name.\n\n\"All hail, Bl\u00e9d! Hail to thee, Roug! and to ye all, brave\nwarriors! The hour which for centuries you have awaited is at\nhand; the eagles are whetting their beaks; the earth thirsts for\nblood! Remember Blutfeld!\"\n\nBerbel's senses had almost left her; fear alone kept her\nstanding; but soon the last clouds escaped from the cavern and\nmelted in the limitless blue.\n\nYegof entered the vault and sat upon the ground near the hot\nspring, his head resting upon his hands, and his elbows on his\nknees, gazing with haggard eyes on the bubbling waters.\n\nKateline awoke sobbing, and the storm-witch, more dead than\nalive, observed the fool from the darkest nook of the cave.\n\n{624}\n\n\"They have all arisen from their graves,\" cried he suddenly;\n\"all! all! not one remains behind. They will give life to the\nhearts of my young warriors, and teach them to despise death!\"\n\nHe raised his face. A crushing sorrow seemed settled there.\n\n\"O woman!\" he said, fixing his eyes upon the Wetterhexe with a\nwolfish glare, \"O thou descendant of the Valkyrs, but who at the\nfestal board hast never filled the deep cups of the warriors with\nmead, nor placed before them the smoking flesh of the boar\nSerimar, what canst thou do? Canst spin winding-sheets? To thy\ntask then! Spin night and day, for thousands of bold warriors are\nstretched upon the snow. They fought valiantly. They did their\nwork well, but the hour had not yet come. Now the ravens feed\nupon their flesh!\"\n\nThen in ungovernable fury, seizing his crown with both hands, and\ntearing it from his head, although with it came away handfuls of\nhair, he shouted:\n\n\"Accursed tribe! Will ye ever bar our way! But for ye we had long\nsince conquered Europe; ay, we of the red beards had been masters\nof the world. And I humbled myself before this race of dogs! I\nasked his daughter of one of them, instead of bearing her off as\nthe wolf does the lamb! Ah Huldrix! Huldrix! Listen, Valkyr,\" he\nsuddenly added in a low tone, \"listen!\"\n\nHe raised his finger solemnly. The Wetterhexe listened; a blast\narose without, and shook the old frost-laden forest. How often\nhad the sorceress heard that sound before, during the long winter\nnights, without giving it a thought. Now, she was afraid.\n\nAnd while she stood trembling, a hoarse cry smote her ear, and\nthe raven Hans, sweeping beneath the rock, flew in circles round\nand round the cavern, flapping his wings as if in terror, and\ncroaking mournfully.\n\nYegof became pale as death.\n\n\"Vod! Vod!\" he cried in despairing tones, \"what has thy son\nLuitprand done to thee? Why choose him rather than another?\"\n\nAnd for some seconds he seemed to have swooned; but soon, as if\ncarried away by a savage enthusiasm, brandishing his sceptre, he\ndarted from the cavern.\n\nWetterhexe, standing in the opening, followed him with an anxious\neye.\n\nHe strode straight onward, with outstretched neck, like a wild\nbeast rushing at its prey. Hans flew before, and they disappeared\nin the gorge of Blutfeld.\n\n\n Chapter XIX.\n\nToward two o'clock that night the snow began to fall, and at\ndaybreak it rested inches deep upon the men at the bivouacs.\n\nThe Germans had left Grandfontaine, Framont, and even Schirmeck,\nand black spots far away on the plains of Alsace showed where\ntheir battalions were in full retreat.\n\nHullin, roused at early dawn, inspected the bivouacs; he stopped\nfor a few minutes to gaze at the plateau--the scene of Dives's\ncharge at the cannon pointed down the mountain side, the\npartisans stretched around the fires, and the pacing sentries;\nthen satisfied that all was well, he returned to the farm-house\nwhere Catherine and Louise were yet sleeping.\n\nThe gray morning was entering at the windows. A few wounded, whom\nthe fires of fever had already seized, shrieked loudly for their\nwives and children. Then the hum of many voices arose, and at\nlast Catherine and Louise appeared, and saw Jean-Claude seated in\na corner of a window; ashamed to be thought more devoted to\nslumber than he, they hastened to bid him good morning.\n\n{625}\n\n\"Well!\" said Catherine inquiringly.\n\n\"They are gone, and we are masters of the road.\"\n\nThis assurance did not seem sufficient for the old woman. She\ngazed through the windows, and saw the Austrians far off in\nAlsace. Still her face bore the impress of an indefinable\nuneasiness.\n\nBetween eight and nine o'clock, Father Saumaize, the priest of\nthe village of Charmes, arrived. A few mountaineers then\ndescended to the foot of the slope, and collected the dead who\nlay there so thick. Then a long trench was dug, to the right of\nthe farm-house, in which partisans and Kaiserliks, in their\nblouses, their slouched hats, their shakos, and their uniforms,\nwere ranged side by side. The good priest, a tall old man, with\nlocks white as snow, read the ancient prayers for the dead in\nthat rapid and mysterious voice which pierces the very depths of\nthe soul, and seems to summon long-past generations to greet the\nnew-comers to their realms--which calls so vividly to the hearts\nof the living thoughts of the darkness and terrors of the grave,\nand of the light and mercy beyond.\n\nAll day wagons and sleds kept carrying the wounded to their\nvillages; for Doctor Lorquin, fearing to increase their\nexcitement, was forced to yield to their cries and prayers that\nthey might again see their homes. Toward evening Catherine and\nHullin found themselves alone in the great hall; Louise had gone\nto prepare supper. Great flakes of snow still continued to fall\nwithout, and from time to time a sled departed silently bearing\nits wounded owner buried in straw, sometimes a man, sometimes a\nwoman, leading a horse by the bridle. Catherine, seated at the\ntable, folded bandages with an absent air.\n\n\"What ails you, Mother Lefevre?\" asked Jean-Claude. \"Ever since\nmorning you have been sad and thoughtful. Is this your rejoicing\nover victory?\"\n\nThe old woman looked up, and slowly pushing the linen from her,\nreplied:\n\n\"True, Jean-Claude; I am anxious.\"\n\n\"Anxious? About what? The enemy is in full retreat, and Frantz\nMaterne, whom I sent to watch them, and all Pivrette's and\nJerome's and Labarbe's couriers report that they are returning to\nMutzig. Old Materne and Kasper, after having buried the dead,\nlearned at Grandfontaine that not a white coat is to be seen\ntoward Saint Blaize-la-Roche. All this proves that our dragoons\nof the Spanish wars gave them a warm reception on the Senones\nroad, and they fear to be turned by way of Schirmeck. I see no\nreason for uneasiness, Catherine.\"\n\nAnd Hullin gazed at her with a look of inquiry.\n\n\"You will laugh at me again, Jean-Claude,\" said she; \"I have had\na dream.\"\n\n\"A dream!\"\n\n\"Yes; the same that I dreamed at Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes.\"\n\nHer voice grew louder, and, before Hullin could interrupt, she\ncontinued half angrily:\n\n{626}\n\n\"Say what you will, Jean-Claude, a great peril hangs over us.\nYes, yes, all this seems senseless, and is only a dream, but it\nwas not a dream; it was what had passed and what I saw again and\nrecognized in my sleep. Listen! We were as we were to-day--after\na great victory--where I know not--in a sort of huge wooden hut,\ncrossed by strong beams and defended by palisades. We were secure\nand careless. All whom I saw around me I knew. There were you,\nMarc Dives, Old Duch\u00eane, and many others--old men long since\ndead--my father and old Hugo Rochart of Harberg, the uncle of him\nwho has just died, all in gray blouses, and with long beards and\nbare necks. We were rejoicing and drinking from great vessels of\nred earth, when a cry arose, 'The enemy are returning!' And Yegof\non horseback, his beard streaming in the wind, his crown\nsurrounded with spikes, an axe in his hand, and his eyes\nglittering like a wolfs, appeared before me. I rushed at him with\na stake; he awaited me, and I saw no more. But I felt a sharp\npain at my throat; a cold blast struck my face, and it seemed as\nif my head were swinging at the end of a cord. Yegof had hung it\nto his saddle and was galloping away.\" The old woman ended her\nstory in such a tone of belief that brave Jean-Claude shuddered.\n\nThere were a few moments of silence; then Hullin, rousing\nhimself, replied:\n\n\"It was but a dream. I, too, often have horrible ones. It was the\nnoise, the shrieks, the terror of yesterday tormenting you,\nCatherine.\"\n\n\"No!\" she answered firmly, as she resumed her work; \"it was not\nthat. In good truth, during the whole of the battle--even when\nthe cannon thundered upon us--I feared nothing; I was sure we\nwould be victorious, for that too I had seen. But now I fear!\"\n\n\"But the Austrians have evacuated Schirmeck; all the line of the\nVosges is defended; we have more men than we need, and still more\nare arriving every moment.\"\n\n\"No matter!\"\n\nHullin shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"Come, come, Catherine! You are feverish. Try to calm yourself\nand dispel such gloomy thoughts. I laugh at all these dreams as I\nwould at the Grand Turk with his pipe and blue stockings. We have\nmen, munitions, and defences, and these are better than the\nrosiest-colored dreams.\"\n\n\"You mock me, Jean-Claude.\"\n\n\"No; but to hear a woman of sound sense, of courage and\ndetermination, talk as you do, makes one indeed think of Yegof,\nwho boasts that he has been living sixteen hundred years.\"\n\n\"Who knows?\" said the old woman obstinately. \"He may remember\nwhat others have forgotten.\"\n\nHullin proceeded to relate his conversation of the day before\nwith Yegof, at the bivouac, thinking thus to disperse her gloom;\nbut seeing that she was inclined to agree with the fool on the\nscore of the sixteen centuries, the good man at length ceased,\nand paced the room with bowed head and anxious brow. \"She is\nbecoming mad,\" he thought; \"another shock, and her mind is gone.\"\n\nCatherine, after a silence, seemed about again to speak, when\nLouise tripped into the room, crying:\n\n\"Mamma Lefevre, Mamma Lefevre, a letter from Gaspard!\"\n\nThen the old woman, whose lips had been pressed tight together in\nher indignation at Hullin's ridicule, lifted her head, and the\nsharp lines of her face softened.\n\nShe took the letter and gazing at the red seal, said to the young\ngirl:\n\n\"Kiss me, Louise; it bears good tidings.\"\n\n{627}\n\nHullin drew near, glad that something had happened to distract\nCatherine's thoughts, and Brainstein, the postman, his heavy\nshoes covered with snow and his hands resting upon his staff,\nstood with a weary and careworn air at the door.\n\nCatherine put on her spectacles, opened the letter slowly,\nnotwithstanding the impatient glances of Jean-Claude and Louise,\nand read aloud:\n\n\"This, my dear mother, is to inform you that all goes well, and I\narrived Tuesday evening at Phalsbourg, just as they were closing\nthe gates. The Cossacks were already on the Saverne side, and\nskirmishing was kept up all night with their advance. The next\nday a flag of truce summoned us to surrender the place. The\ncommandant Meunier told the bearer to go and hang himself, and,\nthree days after, a storm of shell and canister began to hail\nupon the city. The Russians have three batteries; but the hot\nshot do the most harm. They set fire to the houses and when the\nflames appear, showers of canister prevent our putting them out.\nThe women and children keep within the blockhouse; the citizens\nfight with us on the ramparts. They are brave men, and among them\nare some veterans of the Sambre-and-Meuse, of Italy and Egypt,\nwho have not forgotten how to work the guns. It makes me sad to\nsee their grey moustaches falling on the cannon as they aim. I\nwill answer for it, they waste no powder; but it is hard to see\nmen, who have made the world tremble, forced in their old age to\ndefend their own homes and hearths.\"\n\n\"Hard indeed,\" said Catherine, drying her eyes. \"It makes my\nheart bleed to think of it.\"\n\nShe continued:\n\n\"The day before yesterday the governor decided to attack the\ntile-kiln. You must know that these Russians break the ice to\nbathe in platoons of twenty or thirty, and afterward dry\nthemselves there at the fire. About four in the afternoon, as\nevening was coming on, we made a sally through the arsenal\npostern, passing through the covered ways and filing along the\npath leading to the kiln. Ten minutes after, we began a rolling\nfire on it, and the Russians had scarcely time to seize their\nmuskets and cartridge-boxes, and, half-dressed, to form ranks\nupon the snow. Nevertheless, they were ten times more numerous\nthan we, and began a movement to the right, on the little chapel\nof Saint John, so as to surround us, when the guns of the arsenal\nopened a fire upon them, the like of which I never saw before,\nsweeping them down in long lanes. In less than a quarter of an\nhour they were in full flight to Quatre-Vents, without waiting to\npick up their coats, their officers at their head, and round-shot\nfrom the town acting as file-closers. Father Jean-Claude would\nhave laughed at their predicament. At night-fall we returned to\nthe city, after destroying the kiln, and throwing two\neight-pounders we captured into its well. So ended our first\nsortie. I write you from Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, which we have reached on\na foraging expedition. The siege may last months.\n\n\"I should have told you that the Allies are passing through the\nvalley of Dosenheim to Weschem, and flooding the roads to Paris\nby thousands. Ah! if God would only give the emperor the victory\nin Lorraine or Champagne, not one of them would return. But the\ntrumpets are sounding the recall, and we have gathered a goodly\nnumber of oxen and cows and goats. We may have to fight our way\nback. Farewell, my dear mother, and Louise, and Father\nJean-Claude. You are ever in my thoughts and my heart.\"\n\n{628}\n\nCatherine's eyes grew moist as she finished.\n\n\"What a brave fellow he is!\" she murmured; \"he knows only his\nduty. Well! well! Do you hear, Louise, how he remembers you?\"\n\nLouise threw herself into the old woman's arms, and Mother\nCatherine, despite the firmness of her character, could not\nrestrain two great tears, which coursed down her furrowed cheeks;\nbut she was soon herself again. \"Come, come!\" said she; \"all is\nwell. Come Brainstein, eat a morsel of bread and take a glass of\nwine, and here is a crown for your trouble; I wish I could give\nas much every week for such a letter.\"\n\nThe postman, well pleased at her bounty, followed her, and\nJean-Claude hastened to question him as to the enemy's movements;\nbut he learned nothing new, except that the Allies were besieging\nBitche, and Lutzelstein, and that they had lost some hundreds of\nmen in attempting to force the defile of Graufthal.\n\n\n Chapter XX.\n\nAbout ten o'clock that night Catherine Lefevre and Louise, after\nhaving bid Hullin good-night, retired to their chamber, which was\nsituated over the great hall. In this room were two huge feather\nbeds, with red and blue striped curtains rising to the ceiling.\n\n\"Sleep-well, my child,\" said the old woman. \"I can no longer bear\nup against my weariness.\"\n\nShe threw herself upon her bed, and in a few minutes was in a\ndeep slumber. Louise did not delay following her example.\n\nThis lasted mayhap two hours, when a fearful tumult broke upon\nthem.\n\n\"To arms! to arms!\" shouted fifty voices. \"They are on us! To\narms!\"\n\nShots resounded, and the tramp of hurrying feet mingled with\ncries of alarm; but above all was heard Hullin's voice giving\norders in short, resolute, ringing tones, and to the left of the\nfarm, from the gorges of Grosmann rose a deep heavy murmur like\nthat of an approaching storm.\n\n\"Louise! hearest thou, Louise?\" cried Catherine.\n\n\"Yes, yes. Great Heaven! it is terrible?\"\n\nCatherine sprang from her bed.\n\n\"Arise, my child,\" she cried; \"dress quickly.\"\n\nThe shots redoubled and the windows were lit up as if by constant\nflashes of lightning.\n\n\"Attention!\" shouted the voice of Materne.\n\nThey heard the neighing of a horse without, and the rush of many\nfeet below in the passage, the yard, and in front of the house,\nwhich shook to its foundations.\n\nSuddenly shots were fired from the hall on the ground floor. A\nheavy step sounded on the stairs; the door opened, and Hullin,\npale, his hair disordered and his lips quivering, appeared,\nbearing a lantern.\n\n\"Hasten,\" he cried, \"we have not a moment to lose.\"\n\n\"What has happened?\" asked Catherine.\n\nThe firing became louder and louder.\n\n\"Is this a time to explain?\" he shouted. \"Come on!\"\n\nThe old woman covered her head with her hood and descended the\nstairs with Louise. By the fitful light of the shots, they saw\nMaterne, bare-necked, and his son Kasper, firing from the doorway\non the abatis, while ten others behind them loaded and passed the\nmuskets to them. Three or four corpses, lying against the broken\nwall, added to the horrors of the fight, and thick smoke hung\namong the rafters.\n\n{629}\n\nAs he reached the stairs, Hullin cried:\n\n\"Here they are, Heaven be thanked!\"\n\nAnd the brave fellows below shouted:\n\n\"Courage! courage, Mother Lefevre!\"\n\nThen the poor old woman, whose stout heart seemed at last broken,\nburst into tears. She leaned heavily on Jean-Claude's shoulder;\nbut he lifted her like a feather and ran from the house, skirting\nthe wall to the right. Louise followed, sobbing.\n\nThey could hear nothing but the whistling of bullets, or their\ndull thud as they flattened themselves on the rough east wall,\nscattering the plaster in showers, or as they hurled the tiles\nfrom the roof. In front, not three hundred paces distant, they\nsaw a line of white uniforms, lighted up by their own fire in the\nblack darkness. These the mountaineers on the other side of the\nravine of Mini\u00e8res were assailing in flank.\n\nHullin turned the corner of the house; there all was darkness,\nand they could scarcely distinguish Doctor Lorquin, on horseback,\nbefore a sledge, swinging a long cavalry sabre in his hand and\nbearing two horse-pistols in his belt, and Frantz Materne, with a\ndozen men, the butt of his rifle resting on his foot and his lips\nfoaming with rage. Hullin seated Catherine in the sledge and\nLouise by her side.\n\n\"Here at last!\" cried the doctor, \"God be thanked!\"\n\nAnd Frantz Materne added:\n\n\"If it were not for you, Mother Lefevre, you may be sure that not\none of us would quit the plateau tonight; but for you--\"\n\nAt this moment, a tall gaunt fellow, passed at full speed,\nshrieking as he ran:\n\n\"They are upon us! Every one for himself.\"\n\nHullin grew pale.\n\n\"It is the miller of Harberg,\" he muttered, grinding his teeth.\n\"Traitor!\"\n\nFrantz said nothing, but brought his rifle to his shoulder, aimed\nand fired.\n\nLouise saw the coward fling his arms in the air and fall face\ndownward on the snow.\n\nFrantz, with a strange smile, reloaded his piece.\n\n\"Comrades!\" said Hullin; \"here is your mother; she who gave you\npowder and food that you might defend your homes; and here is my\nchild. Save them!\"\n\nAnd all answered:\n\n\"We will save them or die with them.\"\n\n\"And remember to warn Dives to remain at Falkenstein until\nfurther orders.\"\n\n\"We shall not fail.\"\n\n\"Then forward, doctor, forward,\" cried the brave old man.\n\n\"And you, Hullins?\" asked Catherine.\n\n\"My place is here. Our position must be defended to the death.\"\n\n\"Father Jean-Claude!\" cried Louise, stretching her arms toward\nhim.\n\nBut he had, already turned the corner; the doctor whipped up his\nhorse; the sledge crunched the snow, and behind it Frantz Materne\nand his men, their rifles on their shoulders, strode on, while\nthe roll and clatter of the musketry continued. The old mistress\nof Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, remembering her dream, was silent. Louise\ndried her tears and threw a last long gaze on the plateau, which\nwas lighted up as if by a fire. The horse galloped beneath the\nblows of the doctor, so that the mountaineers of the escort could\nscarcely keep up with it; but it was long ere the tumult, the\nshouts of battle, the clatter and crash of the shots, and the\nwhistling of the balls, cutting through the branches of the\ntrees, and growing more and more indistinct, were heard no more;\nthen all seemed vanished like a dream.\n\n{630}\n\nThe sledge had reached the other slope of the mountain and darted\nlike an arrow through the darkness. The tramp of the horse's\nhoofs, the hard-drawn breath of the escort, and from time to time\nthe call of the doctor, \"Ho, Bruno, old fellow!\" alone broke the\ndeep stillness.\n\nA rush of ice-cold air, rolling up from the valley of the Sarre,\nbore from afar, like a sigh, the never-ending plaint of the\ntorrents and woods. The moon broke through a cloud and looked\ndown on the dark forests of Blanru, with their tall, snow-laden\nfirs. A few moments after, the sledge reached a corner of the\nwoods, and Doctor Lorquin, turning in his saddle, cried:\n\n\"Now, Frantz, what are we to do? The path turns to the hills of\nSaint-Quirin, and here is another going down to Blanru. Which\nshall we take?\"\n\nFrantz and the men of the escort drew near. As they were then on\nthe western side of the Donon, they began to catch glimpses once\nmore of the German fusilade, and occasionally they heard the\ncrash of a cannon-shot echo through the abysses. \"The path to the\nhills of Saint-Quirin,\" replied Frantz, \"is shorter if we wish to\nstop at Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes; we shall gain at least three quarters of\nan hour by it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said the doctor, \"but we risk being taken by the\nKaiserliks who now hold the defile of the Sarre. They are already\nmasters of the heights, and they have doubtless sent detachments\nto the Sarre-Ridge in order to turn Donon.\"\n\n\"Let us, take the Blanru path then,\" answered Frantz; \"it is\nlonger, but safer.\"\n\nThe sledge descended the mountain side to the left, along the\nskirts of the wood. The partisans in single file, their rifles\nslung on their backs, marched upon the top of the slope, and the\ndoctor, on horseback, in the narrow way, broke through the\nsnowdrifts. Above hung the long fir branches, burying road and\ntravellers in deep shadow, beyond which streamed the pale\nmoonlight. The scene was picturesque and majestic, and under\nother circumstances Catherine would have wondered at its weird\nbeauty, and Louise would not have failed to admire the long\nicicles glittering like spars of crystal where the moonbeams\nfell; but now their hearts were full of unrest and fear, and soon\nthe sledge entered the deep gorge, whence they could see no light\nbut that which flooded the mountain peaks. Thus they pushed on in\nsilence until at length Catherine, rousing herself from the\ngloomy thoughts in which she seemed plunged, spoke.\n\n\"Doctor Lorquin, now that you have us at the bottom of Blanru,\nwill you explain why we have thus been carried off? Jean-Claude\nseized me, threw me on this truss of straw, and here I am.\"\n\n\"Ho, Bruno!\" cried the doctor.\n\nThen he answered gravely:\n\n\"To-night, Mother Catherine, the greatest of evils has befallen\nus. It cannot be laid to Jean-Claude; for by the fault of another\nwe have lost the fruit of all our blood and toil.\"\n\n\"By whose fault?\"\n\n\"Labarbe's, who did not guard the defile of Blutfeld. He died\nafterward doing his duty like a man; but his death could not\nrepair his fault; and if Pivrette does not arrive in time to\nsupport Hullin, all is lost. We must then abandon the road and\nretreat.\"\n\n{631}\n\n\"What! Blutfeld in possession of the enemy.\"\n\n\"Yes, Mother Catherine. But who would have thought that the\nGermans would have entered it? A defile almost impracticable for\ninfantry, surrounded by pointed rocks, where the herdsmen\nthemselves can scarcely descend with their flocks and goats?\nWell, they passed through it, two by two, turned Roche-Creuse,\ncrushed Labarbe, and then fell upon Jerome, who defended himself\nlike a lion until nine at night, but finally had to take to the\nwoods and leave the road to the Kaiserliks. That is the whole\nstory, and it is fearful enough. Some one must have been cowardly\nand treacherous enough to have guided the enemy to our rear--to\nhave delivered us over bound hand and foot. O the wretch!\" cried\nthe doctor in a trembling voice; \"I am not revengeful, but if\never he falls under my hand, how I will dissect him! Ho, Bruno!\nHo, boy!\"\n\nThe partisans still maintained their steady shadowy march, and no\nword was spoken.\n\nThe horse again began a gallop, but soon slackened his pace and\nbreathed heavily.\n\nMother Lefevre was once more buried in thought.\n\n\"I begin to understand,\" said she at length; \"we were attacked\ntonight in front and flank.\"\n\n\"Just so, Catherine; and, by good fortune, ten minutes before the\nattack, one of Marc-Dives's men--the smuggler Zimmer, an old\ndragoon--arrived at full speed to warn us. If he had not come,\nwe were lost. He fell among our outposts after having passed\nthrough a detachment of Cossacks on the plateau of Grosmann. The\npoor fellow had received a terrible sabre-thrust, and the blood\nwas pouring from his wound.\"\n\n\"And what did he say?\" asked the old woman.\n\n\"He had only time to cry, 'To arms! We are turned! Jerome sent\nme--Labarbe is dead--the Germans passed through Blutfeld!'\"\n\n\"He was a brave man!\" murmured Catherine.\n\n\"Yes, a brave man!\" replied Frantz, drooping his head.\n\nAll became silent, and thus for a long time the sledge kept on\nthrough the narrow, winding valley. From time to time they were\nforced to stop, so deep was the snow, and then three or four\nmountaineers took the horse by the bridle and pulled him on.\n\n\"No matter,\" exclaimed Catherine, emerging from her reverie,\n\"Hullin might have told me--\"\n\n\"But if he had told you of the two attacks,\" interrupted the\ndoctor, \"you would not have come away.\"\n\n\"And who dare hinder my doing as I wish? If it pleased me to\ndescend from this sledge, am I not free to do so? I had forgiven\nJean-Claude--I repent having done so!\"\n\n\"O Mother Lefevre!\" cried Louise; \"if he should be killed, while\nyou speak thus!\"\n\n\"She is right, poor child!\" thought Catherine--\n\nAnd she continued:\n\n\"I said I repent of forgiving him; but he is a brave man, to whom\nI can wish no ill. I forgive him with all my heart. In his place\nI would have done as he has done.\"\n\n{632}\n\nTwo or three hundred yards further on, they entered the defile of\nthe Rocks. The snow had ceased falling and the moon shone\nbrilliantly from between two great black and white clouds. The\nnarrow gorge, bordered by pointed rocks, seemed to unroll its\nlength to their view, and on its sides high firs rose, until lost\nin distance. Nothing broke the deep quiet of the woods; human\nturmoil seemed indeed far away. So profound was the silence that\nthey heard every step of the horse in the soft snow, and even his\nweary breathing. Frantz Materne halted from time to time, cast a\nglance over the dark mountain sides, and then hastened to\novertake the others.\n\nAnd valleys succeeded valleys; the sled ascended, descended,\nturned to right and to left, and the partisans, with their cold\nblue bayonets fixed, followed steadily after.\n\nThus toward three in the morning they had reached the field of\nBrimbelles, where even yet may be seen an old oak standing in a\nturn of the valley. On the other side, to the left, in the midst\nof bushes white with snow, behind its little wall of loose stones\nand the palings of its little garden, the lodge of Cuny, the\nforester, began to outline itself against the mountain side, with\nits three bee-hives in a row on a plank, its old knotty vine\nclimbing to the roof, and its little branch of fir hung over the\ndoor by way of sign; for in that solitude Cuny joined to his\navocation of forester that of innkeeper.\n\nHere, as the road runs along the edge of a bank several feet\nabove the field, and the moon was obscured by a thick cloud, the\ndoctor, fearing lest the sledge should be overset, halted beneath\nthe oak.\n\n\"Another hour will see us to the end of our journey, Mother\nLefevre,\" said he; \"so be of good cheer--we have now plenty of\ntime.\"\n\n\"Ay,\" said Frantz; \"the worst is over, and we can breathe the\nhorse.\"\n\nThe whole party gathered around the sledge, and the doctor\ndismounted. A few produced flint and steel to light their pipes,\nbut nothing was said; all were thinking of Donon. Could\nJean-Claude hold his own until the arrival of Pivrette? So many\npainful thoughts weighed upon the mind of each that no one cared\nto speak.\n\nThey were some five minutes under the old oak when the cloud\nslowly passed away and the pale moonlight streamed down the\ngorge. But what is that yonder, between the two firs? A beam of\nlight falls upon it--upon a tall dark figure on horseback; it is\na Cossack with his lambskin cap, and long lance hanging backward\nunder his arm, slowly advancing; Frantz had already aimed, when\nbehind appeared another lance, and another, and in the depths of\nthe forest, under the deep blue sky, the little group saw only\nswallow-tailed pennons waving, lances flashing, and Cossacks\nadvancing straight on toward the sledge, but without hurry, some\nlooking around, others leaning forward in their saddles like\npeople seeking something. They numbered more than thirty.\n\nCatherine and Louise gazed upon each other. Another minute and\nthe savages would be upon them. The mountaineers seemed\nstupefied. They could not turn the sledge in the narrow way, and\non one side was the steep slope to the field, on the other, the\nsteep mountain side. The old woman, in an agony of fear, seized\nLouise's arm and whispered in trembling tones:\n\n\"Let us fly to the woods!\"\n\nShe tried to spring from the sled, but her shoe came off in the\nstraw.\n\nSuddenly, one of the Cossacks uttered a guttural exclamation\nwhich ran all along their line.\n\n\"We are discovered!\" cried Doctor Lorquin, drawing his sabre.\n\nScarcely had he spoken, when twelve shots lit up the path. Wild\nyells replied. The Cossacks left the road and dashed with loose\nrein over the field, fleeing like deer, to the forest lodge.\n\n{633}\n\n\"There they go,\" cried the doctor; \"we are safe!\"\n\nBut the brave surgeon was too hasty in his conclusion; the\nCossacks, describing a circle in their career, massed their\nforce, and then, with lance in rest, bending over their horses'\nnecks, came right on the partisans, shouting \"Hurrah! hurrah!\"\n\nFrantz and the others threw themselves before the sledge.\n\nIt was a terrible moment. Lance grated against bayonet; cries of\nrage replied to curses. Beneath the old oak, through the branches\nof which only a few scattered moonbeams fell, rearing horses,\nwith manes erect, struggled up from the field to the path,\nbearing barbarous riders with blazing eyes and uplifted arms,\nstriking furiously, advancing, recoiling, uttering yells that,\nmight chill the stoutest hearts.\n\nLouise and the old mistress of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes stood erect in the\nsledge, pale as death. Doctor Lorquin, before them, parried,\nlunged, and struck, crying the while:\n\n\"Down, down! Morbleu! Lie down!\"\n\nBut they heard him not.\n\nLouise, in the midst of the tumult, thought only of protecting\nCatherine, and Catherine--imagine her horror when she saw Yegof,\non a tall, bony horse, among the assailants--Yegof, his crown\nupon his head, his unkempt beard and dogskin mantle floating on\nthe wind, and a lance in his hand. She saw him there plainly, as\nif it were broad day, flourishing his long weapon not ten paces\nfrom her, and she saw his gleaming eyes fixed on hers.\n\nThe most resolute souls seem often utterly broken by the pursuit\nof a relentless and inflexible fate. What was to be done?\nSubmit--yield to that fate. The old woman believed herself\ndoomed; she saw the mingled combat--men striking and falling in\nthe clear moonlight; she saw riderless horses dashing over the\nfield; she saw the attic window of the forester's lodge open, and\nold Cuny aim without daring to fire into the mass. She saw all\nthese things with strange distinctness, but she kept repeating to\nherself, \"The fool has returned; whatever may happen, he will\nhang my head to his saddle-bow. My dream is true--true!\"\n\nAnd indeed, everything seemed to justify her fears. The\nmountaineers, too feeble in numbers, began to give way. Soon,\nlike a whirlwind, the Cossacks burst upon the road, and a lance's\npoint passed through the old woman's hair, so that she felt the\ncold steel pass across her neck.\n\n\"O wretches! wretches!\" she cried, as she fell to the bottom of\nthe sledge, still holding, however, the reins in both hands.\n\nDoctor Lorquin, too, had fallen upon the sledge. Frantz and the\nothers, surrounded by twenty Cossacks, could render no\nassistance. Louise felt a hand grasp her shoulder--the hand of\nthe fool, mounted on his tall steed.\n\nAt this supreme moment, the poor girl, crazed with fear, uttered\na shriek of distress; then she saw something flash in the\ndarkness; it was the barrels of Lorquin's pistols, and, quick as\nlightning, she had torn them from the doctor's belt. Both flashed\nat once, burning Yegof's beard, and sending their bullets\ncrashing through the skull of a Cossack who was bending toward\nher. She seized Catherine's whip, and standing erect, pale as a\ncorpse, struck the horse's flanks with all her might. The animal\nbounded from the blow, and the sledge dashed through the bushes;\nit bent to the right--to the left; then there was a shock;\nCatherine, Louise, sledge and straw, rolled clown the steep\nroad-side in the snow. The horse stopped short, flung back on his\nhaunches and his mouth full of bloody foam. He had struck against\nan oak.\n{634}\nSwift as was their fall, Louise had seen some shadows pass like\nthe wind behind the copse. She heard a terrible voice--the voice\nof Dives--shout,\n\n\"Forward! Point! point!\"\n\nIt seemed but an illusion--a mingled vision, such as at our\nlatest hour passes before our glazing eyes; but as she rose, the\npoor girl doubted it not; sabres were clashing twenty paces from\nher, behind a curtain of trees, and Marc's voice still rang on\nthe night:\n\n\"Bravely, boys, bravely! No quarter!\"\n\nThen she saw a dozen Cossacks climbing the slope opposite, in the\nmidst of the bushes, like hares, and through an opening beneath,\nYegof flying across the valley, in the clear moonlight like a\nfrightened bird. Several shots resounded, but they did not reach\nthe fool; and standing erect in his stirrups while his horse kept\non at his utmost speed, he turned in the saddle, shook his lance\ndefiantly, and shouted a \"Hurrah!\" in a voice like that of a\nheron escaping the eagle's talons. Two more shots flashed from\nthe forester's lodge; a rag flew from the fool's waist, but he\nstill held on his course, again and again hoarsely shouting his\n\"Hurrah!\" as he followed the path his comrades had taken.\n\nAnd then the vision vanished.\n\nWhen Louise again became conscious, Catherine was standing beside\nher. They gazed for a moment at each other, and then embraced in\nan ecstasy of joy.\n\n\"Saved! saved!\" murmured Catherine, and they wept in each other's\narms.\n\n\"You bore yourself well and bravely,\" said the old woman.\n\"Jean-Claude, Gaspard, and I may well be proud of you.\"\n\nLouise trembled from head to foot. The danger passed, her gentle\nnature asserted itself, and she could not understand her courage\nof a few moments before.\n\nThen, finding themselves more composed, they tried to reach the\nroad, when they saw the doctor and five or six partisans coming\nto meet them.\n\n\"Ah! you needn't cry, Louise,\" said Lorquin; \"you are a dragoon,\na little Amazon. Your heart seems now in your throat, but we saw\nall. And, by the by, where are my pistols?\"\n\nAs he spoke, the thicket separated, and tall Marc-Dives, his\nsabre hanging from his wrist, appeared, crying,\n\n\"Ha! Mother Catherine! What a time? What luck that I happened to\nbe on hand! How those beggars would have plundered you!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" returned the old woman, pushing her gray hair beneath her\nhood, \"it was indeed fortunate.\"\n\n\"I believe you. Not more than ten minutes ago I reached Father\nCuny's with my wagon. 'Do not go to Donon,' said he; 'for the\nlast hour the sky above it has been red; they are fighting\nthere!' 'Do you think so?' said I. '_Ma foi_! yes,' he\nreplied. 'Then Joson will go ahead as a scout, and we will empty\na glass while we wait for his return.' Scarcely had Joson\nstarted, when I heard shouts as if the fiends had broken loose.\n'What is the matter, Cuny?' I cried. He did not know, so we\npushed open the door and there saw the fight. Ha! we did not wait\nlong. I was on Fox at a bound, and then, 'Forward!' was the word.\nWhat luck!\"\n\n{635}\n\n\"Ah!\" said Catherine, \"if we were only sure that matters were\ngoing as well on Donon, we might indeed rejoice.\"\n\n\"Yes; Frantz told me all about it; something is always going\nwrong,\" answered Marc. \"But here we are standing in the snow. Let\nus hope that Pivrette will not let his comrades be crushed, and\nlet us empty our glasses which are yet half full.\"\n\nFour other smugglers came up, saying that the villain Yegof was\nlikely to return with a swarm of thieves like himself.\n\n\"Very true,\" replied Dives. \"We will return to Falkenstein, since\nJean-Claude so orders; but we cannot bring our wagon with us; it\nwould hinder our crossing the country, and in an hour all those\nwretches will be upon us. But let us go to Cuny's. Catherine and\nLouise will not object to a cup of wine, nor will the others. It\nwill put back your hearts in the right place. Ho! Bruno!\"\n\nHe took his horse by the bridle. Two wounded men were placed on\nthe sledge. Two others killed, with seven or eight Cossacks, lay\nstretched upon the snow. They left them as they were, and all\nentered the old forester's house. Frantz was beginning to console\nhimself for not being on Donon. He had run two Cossacks through\nthe body, and the sight of the lodge put him in good humor.\nBefore the door stood the wagon, laden with cartridges. Cuny came\nout crying,\n\n\"Welcome, Mother Lefevre. What a night for women to be out! Be\nseated. What is going on yonder?\"\n\nWhile they hastily emptied a bottle, everything had to be again\nexplained. The good old man, dressed in a simple jacket and green\nknee-breeches, his face wrinkled and his head bald, listened with\nstaring eyes, ever and anon clasping his hands as he cried,\n\n\"Great God! good God! in what days do we live! We cannot travel\nthe high roads without fear of being attacked. It is worse than\nthe old stories of the Swedes!\"\n\nAnd he shook his head.\n\n\"Come,\" said Dives, \"time presses; forward!\"\n\nAll went out; the smugglers drove the wagon, which contained\nseveral thousands of cartridges and two little casks of brandy,\nthree hundred paces off, to the middle of the valley, and there\nunharnessed the horses.\n\n\"Forward, forward!\" cried Marc; \"we will overtake you in a few\nminutes.\"\n\n\"But what are you going to do with the wagon?\" asked Frantz.\n\"Since we have not time to bring it to Falkenstein, we had better\nleave it under Cuny's shed than to abandon it in the middle of\nthe road.\"\n\n\"Yes, and have the poor old man hung when the Cossacks return, as\nthey will in less than an hour,\" replied Dives. \"Do not trouble\nyourself; I have a notion in my head.\"\n\nFrantz rejoined the party around the sledge, who had gone on some\ndistance. Soon they passed the sawmill of Marquis, and struck\nstraight to the right, to reach the farm-house of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes,\nthe high chimney of which appeared over the plateau, three\nquarters of a league away. When they were on the crest of the\nhill, Marc-Dives and his men came up, shouting,\n\n\"Halt! Stop a moment. Look yonder!\"\n\nAnd all, turning their eyes to the bottom of the gorge, saw the\nCossacks caracoling about the wagon to the number of two or three\nhundred.\n\n\"They are coming! Let us fly!\" cried Louise.\n\n\"Wait a moment,\" replied the smuggler; \"we have nothing to fear.\"\n\n{636}\n\nHe was yet speaking, when a sheet of flame spread its purple\nwings from one mountain to the other, lighting the woods to their\ntopmost branches, and the rocks, and the forester's lodge fifteen\nhundred feet below; then followed a crash that shook the earth.\n\nAnd while with dazzled eyes they gazed at each other, mute with\nhorror, Marc's peal of laughter mingled in the sound that yet\nrang in their ears.\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" he shouted; \"I knew the beggars would gather round\nthe wagon to drink my brandy, and that the match would have time\nto reach the powder. Do you think they will follow us further?\nTheir limbs adorn the firs. So perish all of their kind who have\ncrossed the Rhine!\"\n\nThe entire party, partisans, the doctor, everyone, had become\nsilent. So many fearful scenes, scenes which common life knows\nnot, gave all food for endless thought. Each one murmured to\nhimself, \"Why must men thus torture, tear, ruin one another? Why\nshould they thus hate each other? And what ferocious spirit urges\nthem to such deeds, if not the spirit of evil, the archdemon\nhimself?\"\n\nDives alone and his men were unmoved, and galloped on laughing\nand applauding what had been done.\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha!\" cried the tall smuggler; \"I never saw such a joke!\nI could laugh a thousand years at it.\"\n\nThen he became gloomy, and said,\n\n\"Yegof is at the bottom of all this. One must be blind not to see\nthat it was he who guided the Germans to Blutfeld. I would be\nsorry if he were finished by a piece of my wagon; I have\nsomething better in store for him. All that I wish is, that he\nmay remain sound and healthy until I meet him some day in a\ncorner of the woods. Let it be one, ten, or twenty years--only\nlet it come! The longer I wait, the keener will be my appetite;\ngood morsels are best cold, like wild-boar's cheek in white\nwine.\"\n\nHe said all this with a good-humored air; but those who knew him\nknew that beneath that lay danger for Yegof.\n\nHalf an hour after, all reached the field of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes.\n\n ----------\n\n Inscription On A Door.\n\n Written By Theodulphus,\n Bishop Of Orleans, A.D. 820.\n\n\n Pauperibus pateat, Praesul, tua janua semper,\n Cum miseris Christus intrat et ipse simul.\n Deque tuis epulis pascatur pauper egenus,\n Ut conviva queas lectus adesse Deo.\n\n\n Translation.\n\n Set wide thy portals ever to the poor,\n So Christ shall enter with them at thy door.\n And let the poor be feasted from thy board,\n So mayest thou, blessed, banquet with thy Lord.\n\n C. E. B.\n\n ----------\n\n{637}\n\n \"Poor Mara!\"\n\n\nThe celebrated Rosenthal, in Germany, was the retreat where\nGoethe passed so many hours of leisure when a student. It was\nindeed a valley of roses, especially in early summer, when\nflowers are most abundant, and the tender green of the rich\nfoliage is freshest and brightest. It was a lovely afternoon, but\nnot sultry; a large awning was spread for temporary use; and just\nin the shade of a group of trees was set out a table with\nrefreshments. A dozen seats were arranged round it, evidently for\na small and select company. Ere long, carriages drove up, and\nsome ladies alighted, and began to arrange the collation. Two of\nthem were the wife and daughter of Doles, the musician; they\nbrought flowers which they had gathered, and decorated the table,\nplacing a wreath of roses and laurels over the seat destined to\nbe occupied by their honored guest, no less a person than Mozart,\nwho had come to give his last concert in Leipsic. The rest of the\ncompany soon joined them; and it would be interesting, had we\nspace, to relate the conversation that formed the most delightful\npart of their entertainment. They were a few choice spirits, met\nto enjoy the society of Mozart in an hour sacred to friendship.\nThere was no lack of humor and mirth; indeed, the composer would\nhave acted at variance with his character had he not beguiled\neven the gravest by his amusing sallies; but the themes of their\ndiscourse were the musical masters of the world, and the state\nand prospect of their art.\n\n\"Oh! could we only entice you to live here,\" said one of the\ncompany to the great composer.\n\n\"No; the atmosphere does not suit me,\" replied Mozart; \"the\nreserve would chill my efforts, for I live upon the love of those\nwho suffer me to do as I please. Some other time, perhaps, I may\ncome to Leipsic; just now Vienna is the place for me. By the way,\nwhat think you of Bonn?\"\n\n\"You cannot think of Bonn for a residence?\"\n\n\"Not I. Had you asked me where art had the least chance of\nspreading her wings for a bold flight--where she was most\nsecurely chained down and forbidden to soar, I should have\nanswered, 'Bonn.' But that unpromising city has produced one of\nthe greatest geniuses of our day.\"\n\n\"Who? who?\" eagerly demanded several among the company.\n\n\"A lad, a mere lad, who has been under the tutelage of the\nelector's masters, and shocked them all by his musical\neccentricities. They were ready to give him up in disgust. He\ncame to me just before I left Vienna; modest, abashed, doubting\nhis own genius, but eager to learn his fate from my lips. I gave\nhim one of my most difficult pieces; he executed it in a manner\nso spirited, so admirable--carried away by the music, which\nentered his very soul, forgetful of his faint-heartedness--full\nof inspiration! 'Twas an artist, I assure you; a true and noble\none, and I told him so.\"\n\n\"His name?\"\n\n\"Louis von Beethoven.\"\n\n\"I know his father well,\" said Hiller.\n\n{638}\n\n\"Then you know one who has given the world a treasure! For, mark\nme, railed at as he may be for refusing to follow in the beaten\npath, decried for his contempt of ordinary rules, the lad\nBeethoven will rise to a splendid fame! But his _forte_ will\nbe sacred music.\"\n\nThe conversation turned to the works of Bach and Handel.\n\nAs the sun declined westward, the company rose and returned to\nthe city. When they had left the grounds, a figure came forward\nfrom the concealment of the foliage, and walked pensively to and\nfro. He had heard most of the conversation unobserved. It was the\nartist Mara, a violoncellist of great merit--famous, indeed--but\nruined by dissipation. His wife had left him in despair of\nreforming his intemperate habits; his friends had deserted him;\nall was gone but his love of art; and that had brought him to see\nthe great Mozart.\n\n\"Well, well,\" he said to himself, \"I have heard and know him now.\nHis taste is the same with mine; he glories in Handel and old\nSebastian. Ah! that music in my dream.\" He struck his forehead.\n\"But I can keep nothing in my head; Mara-- Mara--_non e pen com\nera prima!_ If 'twere not for this vertigo, this throbbing\nthat I feel whenever I strive to collect my thoughts and fix them\non an idea; if I could but grasp the conception, oh! 'twould be\nglorious!\"\n\nThe spirit of art had not yet left the degraded being it had once\ninspired; but how sad were the struggles of the soul against her\npainful and contaminating bonds!\n\n\"Why,\" resumed the soliloquist--\"why was I not invited to make\none among the company assembled here to welcome the great\nchapel-master? I, too, am a famous artist; I can appreciate\nmusic; the public have pronounced me entitled to rank among the\nfirst. But nobody will associate with Mara in the day-time!\n\nIt is only at night, at the midnight revels, where such grave\nones as the director scorn to appear, that Mara, like a bird of\nevil omen, is permitted to show his face. Then they shout and\nclap for me, and call me a merry fellow; and I _am_ the\nmerriest of them all! But I do not like such welcome. I would\nrather be reasonable if I could, and the wine would let me. The\nwine! Am I a slave to that? Ha, a slave! Alas! it is so; wine is\nmy master; and he is jealous of every other, and beats me when I\nrebel, till I cry mercy, and crouch at his feet again. Oh! if I\nhad a friend strong enough to get me out of his clutches. But I\nhave no friends--none, not even Gertrude. She has left me; and\nthere is no one at home now even to reproach me when I come back\ndrunk, or make a noise in the house over the table with a\ncompanion or two. Heinrich--no; he laughs and makes game of me\nlike the rest. I am sick of this miserable life; I am tired of\nbeing laughed at and shunned; I will put an end to it all, and\nthen they will say once again, 'Poor Mara!'\"\n\nWith a sudden start the wretched man rushed away, and was\npresently hid among the branches of the trees. A whistle was\nheard just then, and a lad, walking briskly, followed, hallooing\nafter him. He came just in time. A stream, a branch of the\nPleysse, watered the bottom of the valley; Mara was about to\nthrow himself into it in the deepest spot, when his arm was\ncaught by his pursuer.\n\n\"What the mischief are you about?\"\n\n\"Let me alone!\" cried Mara, struggling.\n\n\"Do you mean to be drowned?\"\n\n{639}\n\n\"Yes; that is just what I want. I came here for that purpose; and\nwhat have you to say against it, Friedrich?\"\n\n\"Nothing, if your fancy runs that way,\" replied the lad,\nlaughing; \"only you have plenty of leisure for it hereafter, and\njust now you are wanted.\"\n\n\"Wanted?\"\n\n\"Yes; I came to look for you.\"\n\n\"Who wants the poor drunkard Mara?\"\n\n\"They want you at Breithoff's, tonight, at the supper given to\nMozart after the concert; and you must bring your instrument; we\nare to have some rare fun. Come, if you are obedient, you shall\ngo with me to the concert.\"\n\nMozart's concert! Surprised and pleased that some of his\nacquaintances had remembered him, Mara suffered himself to be led\naway by his companion.\n\n\n\nThe concert was a splendid one, and attended by all the taste and\nfashion of Leipsic. The orchestra was admirable, the singers were\nfull of spirit and good humor, the audience delighted, the\ncomposer gratified and thankful. Mozart thanked the performers in\na brief speech, and as soon as the concert was at an end was led\noff in triumph by the connoisseurs, his friends.\n\nMagnificent beyond expectation was the entertainment prepared,\nand attended by many among the wealthy and the noble, as well as\nthe most distinguished artists. The revelry was prolonged beyond\nmidnight, and, as the guests became warmed with good cheer, we\nare bound to record that the conversation lost its rational tone,\nand that comical sallies and uproarious laughter began to usurp\nthe place of critical discourse. They had songs from all who were\nmusical; Mara, among the rest, was brought in, dressed in a\nfantastic but slovenly manner, and made to play for the amusement\nof the company. When he had played several pieces, the younger\nguests began to put their practical jokes upon him, and provoke\nhim to imitate the noises of different animals on his\nvioloncello. Mara entered into all their fun, convulsing them\nwith his grotesque speeches and gestures, drinking glass after\nglass, till, at last, he fell back quite overpowered and\ninsensible. Then his juvenile tormentors painted his face and\nclipped his mustaches, and tricked him out in finery that gave\nhim the look of a candidate for Bedlam, and had him carried to\nhis own house, laughing to imagine what his sensations would be,\nnext morning, when he should discover how ludicrously he had been\ndisfigured. In short, the whole party were considerably beyond\nthe bounds of propriety and sound judgment, Mozart included.\n\n\n\nIt was considerably after noon, the next day, that poor Mara, the\nvictim of those merciless revellers, might be seen sitting\ndisconsolately in his deserted home. He had no heart even to be\nenraged at the cruelties practised on him. Pale as death, his\neyes sunken and bloodshot, his limbs shivering, sat this\nmiserable wretch, dressed in the same mockery of finery which had\nbeen heaped upon him in wicked sport.\n\nThe door soon opened, and Mozart entered. At sight of the\ncomposer, Mara rose and mechanically returned his salutation.\nMozart looked grave and sad.\n\n\"You are much the worse for last night's dissipation, my good\nfellow,\" said he.\n\n\"Ah Master Mozart!\" said the violoncellist, with a faint smile,\n\"it is too good of you to visit such a dog as poor Mara.\"\n\n{640}\n\n\"I have something to say to you, friend,\" answered the composer,\nin a voice of emotion. \"In the first place, let me thank you for\nyour music, last night.\"\n\nThe bewildered artist passed his hand across his forehead.\n\n\"I say, let me thank you. It is long since I have heard such\nmusic.\"\n\n\"You were pleased with it?\" asked Mara, looking up, while a beam\nof joy shot into the darkness of his soul.\n\n\"Pleased? It was noble--heart-stirring! I must own I did not\nexpect such from you. I expected to be shocked, but I was\ncharmed. And when you played the air from _Idomenio--sacr\u00e9!_\nbut it went to my soul. I have _never_ had my music so\nthoroughly appreciated--so admirably executed. Mara, you are a\nmaster of your art! I reverence you!\"\n\n\"You?\" repeated the artist, drawing his breath quickly.\n\n\"Yes; I own you for my brother, and so I told them all, last\nnight.\"\n\nThe poor man gave a leap and seized the master by both hands;\nrapture had penetrated his inmost heart.\n\n\"Oh! you make me very happy,\" faltered he.\n\n\"I am glad of it, for now I am going to say something painful.\"\n\nMara hung his head.\n\n\"Nay, I reproach myself as much as you. We both behaved ill, last\nnight; we both forgot the dignity of the artist and the man.\"\n\nAgain the poor violoncellist looked bewildered.\n\n\"We forgot that such as we are set up for an example to the\nuninitiated, and yielded to the tempter wine! Art--our\nmother--has reason to blush for us.\"\n\n\"For me,\" cried Mara, deeply moved; \"but not for you.\"\n\n\"Yes, for me,\" repeated Mozart, \"and for all who were there. It\nwas a shameful scene. What,\" he continued, with rising\nindignation--\"what would the true friends of art have thought of\nsuch beastly orgies, celebrated in her name? Why, they would have\nsaid, perhaps, 'These men are wild fellows, but we must let them\nhave their way; we owe the fine music they give us to their free\nliving; they must have stimulants to compose or play well.' No,\nno, no! it is base to malign the holy science we love. Such\nexcesses but unfit us for work. I have never owed a good thought\nto the bottle. I tell you, I hate myself for last night's\nfoolery.\"\n\n\"Ah master, you who are so far above me?\" sighed Mara.\n\n\"And lo, here the wreck of a noble being!\" said the composer, in\na low voice and with much bitterness; then resuming: \"Listen to\nme, Mara. You have been your own enemy, but your fall is not\nwholly your own work. You are wondrously gifted; you can be, you\nshall be, snatched from ruin. You can, you shall, rise above\nthose who would trample on you now; become renowned and beloved,\nand leave an honored name to posterity. You have given me a\nlesson, Mara--a lesson which I shall remember my life\nlong--which I shall teach to others. You have done me good--I\nwill do something for you. Come with me to Vienna.\"\n\nThe poor violoncellist had eagerly listened to the words of him\nhe so venerated--whom he looked on as a superior being. While he\ntalked to him as an equal, while he acknowledged his genius,\nlamented his faults, and gave him hope that all was not yet lost,\nthe spirit of the degraded creature revived within him. It was\nthe waking of his mind's energies; the struggle of the soul for\nlife against the lethargy of a mortal malady. Life triumphed!\nMara was once more a man; but overcome by the conflict and by the\nlast generous offer, he sank back, bowed his face upon his hands,\nand wept aloud.\n\n{641}\n\n\"Come,\" cried Mozart, after a pause, during which his own eyes\nmoistened--\"come, we have no time to lose. I go out to-night by\nthe evening post for Vienna; you must accompany me. Take this\npurse, put your dress in order, and make haste. I will call for\nyou at eight. Be ready then. Not a word more.\" And forcing a\nwell-filled purse into his trembling hands, the master hastened\naway too quickly to hear a word of thanks from the man he had\nsaved from worse than death.\n\nThe great composer was early summoned from this and many other\nworks of mercy and benevolence. But if this noble design was\nunaccomplished, at least good seed was sown, and Mara placed once\nmore within view of the goal of virtuous hope. Rescued from the\nmire of degradation, he might, by perseverance, have won the\nprize; if he did not, the fault was wholly his own. Whatever the\ntermination of his career, the moral lesson is for us the same.\n\n ----------\n\n Discipline.\n\n\n A block of marble caught the glance\n Of Buonarotti's eyes,\n Which brightened in their solemn deeps,\n Like meteor-lighted skies.\n\n And one who stood beside him listened,\n Smiling as he heard;\n For, \"I will make an angel of it!\"\n Was the sculptor's word.\n\n And soon mallet and chisel sharp\n The stubborn block assailed,\n And blow by blow, and pang by pang,\n The prisoner unveiled.\n\n A brow was lifted, high and pure;\n The wak'ning eyes outshone;\n And as the master sharply wrought,\n A smile broke through the stone!\n\n{642}\n\n Beneath the chisel's edge, the hair\n Escaped in floating rings;\n And, plume by plume, was slowly freed\n The sweep of half-furled wings.\n\n The stately bust and graceful limbs\n Their marble fetters shed,\n And where the shapeless block had been,\n An angel stood instead!\n\n O blows that smite! O hurts that pierce\n This shrinking heart of mine!\n What are ye but the Master's tools\n Forming a work divine?\n\n O hope that crumbles to my feet!\n O joy that mocks, and flies!\n What are ye but the clogs that bind\n My spirit from the skies?\n\n Sculptor of souls! I lift to thee\n Encumbered heart and hands:\n Spare not the chisel! set me free,\n However dear the bands.\n\n How blest, if all these seeming ills\n Which draw my thoughts to thee\n Should only prove that thou wilt make\n An angel out of me!\n\n ----------\n\n{643}\n\n From The German Of Dr. B. Werneke.\n\n The Teachings Of Statistics Concerning\n The Freedom Of The Human Will.\n\n\nThe enemies of Christianity are, in our days, making war upon its\ndogmas more fiercely and more generally than at any previous\nperiod. Materialism--the teachings of which may be summed up in\nthe following propositions: There exists no God as a spiritual,\nimmaterial personality; there exists no spirit as a\nsupersensible, self-existent, immortal substance--is finding its\nway into every rank of society. By clothing it in a popular garb,\nits advocates are meeting with no small degree of success in\nmaking converts to its errors, even among the working classes and\nthe deluded _prol\u00e9taires_ who have a dread of labor.\nMaterialism no longer goes to the trouble of exhibiting itself in\nthe guise of a well-connected philosophical system: it prefers\nthe more insidious method of appearing only occasionally, in\nwritings and speeches whose theme is of quite another nature. It\nputs on an appearance of science and of devotion to genuine\nprogress; and herein consists its principal danger. When\ndoctrines, opposed to faith, are secreted in works on natural\nscience, and placed side by side with evident facts, there must\nnecessarily result a strong temptation for the unwary to look\nupon them all as undeniable truths.\n\nThe science of _moral statistics_ is one of those that have\nbeen most recently perverted to the purposes of materialism. The\nfounder of this science is Quetelet, the celebrated Belgian\nastronomer and statistician. He first observed that, by\nconsidering large masses of men during a long period, a certain\nuniformity in the manner of their accomplishment could be traced,\nin such voluntary acts as come under the observation of\nstatisticians, more especially in marriages, suicides, and\ncrimes. He even reached the conclusion that acts elicited under\nthe influence of free-will occur with a greater degree of\nregularity than events which depend exclusively on the influence\nof physical causes. This discovery was pursued still further.\nObservations were made upon different nationalities, the results\nwere compared, and upon their evidence it was thought justifiable\nto speak of a law of nature by which all human acts were supposed\nto be controlled. This new law could not but be hailed with\npleasure by the disciples of materialism. They immediately took\nit up and adduced it as evidence in favor of their doctrines. It\nrequires but a small amount of perception to see that, if all\nhuman acts are controlled by a law of nature, there cannot be any\nfree-will. The denial of free-will implies the elimination of one\nof the essential faculties of the human soul, and it, at the same\ntime, shakes Christianity to its foundation.. For, if everything\nis subjected to an immutable necessity, sin and grace, redemption\nand sanctification, need no longer be mentioned.\n\n{644}\n\nIt is well worth our while to subject the new doctrine, founded\non the evidence of moral statistics, to an examination and to\ntest its tenability. We propose to do this in the following\npages. Before entering, however, into the assertions and\ninferences of the materialists, it will be expedient to state a\nfew of the principal results of the science of moral statistics,\nso that the reader may see the method by which such unexpected\nand surprising conclusions have been reached, and may thus be\nenabled to form a judgment for himself.\n\nA glance at the statistical tables which record the sum-total of\nmarriages contracted in a single country reveals in reality that\ntheir number is nearly the same, year after year. Even in\nso-called anomalous marriages, that is, marriages in which a\nyoung man allies himself to a woman much older than himself and\n_vice versa_, as well as in marriages between widows and\nwidowers, there seems to be a certain uniformity. Thus, if we\ntake Belgium, with a population of about four and a half\nmillions, we find the total number of marriages, from the year\n1844 to the year 1853, running as follows: 29,326,\n 29,210,\n 25,670,\n 24,145,\n 28,656,\n 31,788,\n 33,762,\n 33,169,\n 31,251,\n 30,636.\nDuring the same years, the number of marriages between men of 30\nyears and under, with women of 30 years and under, stands thus:\n 13,024,\n 13,157,\n 11,578,\n 10,749,\n 12,642,\n 13,933,\n 14,440,\n 14,337,\n 13,488,\n 13,161.\nAnomalous marriages, between men of 30 years and less, and women\nof from 45 to 60 years, likewise evince a perceptible regularity\nduring the same years:\n 129,\n 102,\n 118,\n 98,\n 101,\n 140,\n 130,\n 128,\n 104,\n 115.\nOn the other hand, marriages between men of 60 years and over,\nand women of 30 years and under, during the same series of years:\n 41,\n 36,\n 33,\n 42,\n 44,\n 47,\n 49,\n 42,\n 39,\n 32.\nThese figures are sufficient for an illustration. The result is\nsimilar in the case of other countries.\n\nIf we consider, the age at which marriage is contracted, we\ndiscover considerable uniformity in a single country, but wide\ndifferences in different countries. The following table exhibits\nwhat percentage of men and women contract marriages in the\ndifferent countries, at the different ages indicated:\n\n Under 20 20-25 25-30 30-35 35-40 40-80\n\n In England\n Men 2% 46% 26% 11% 5% 10%\n Women 12% 50% 20% 8% 4% 6%\n\n In France\n Men 2% 27% 33% 18% 9% 11%\n Women 19% 38% 22% 10% 5% 6%\n\n In Norway\n Men 1% 23% 39% 20% 8% 9%\n Women 5% 35% 33% 14% 6% 7%\n\n In Bavaria\n Men 0% 12% 32% 38% 38% 18%\n Women 4% 25% 32% 29% 29% 10%\n\nThese figures show that in England 72 per cent of the men marry\nbetween the ages of 20 and 30 years; in France, 60 per cent; in\nNorway, 62 per cent; in Bavaria, however, only 44 per cent. In\nEngland, 82 per cent of the women contract marriage at and under\nthe age of 30 years, whilst in Bavaria the percentage is only 61.\nIt is hardly to be supposed that what Quetelet calls _la\ntendance an mariage_ (the tendency toward marriage) is less\nstrong in Bavaria than in England: we may only infer that the\nconditions which render marriage practicable are more easily\nrealized in England than in Bavaria, and a single glance at both\nthese countries will show that such is really the case.\n\nWe shall now give a few figures from the statistics of suicide.\nThe following table contains the annual aggregate of suicides,\nduring a period of twenty years:\n\n{645}\n\n France Belgium Denmark Austria Prussia Saxony\n 1836 2340 189 241 1436 214\n 1837 2443 165 269 534 1502 264\n 1838 2586 167 292 1453 261\n 1839 2747 192 297 486 1474 246\n 1840 2752 204 261 550 1480 336\n 1841 2814 240 337 1630 290\n 1842 2866 220 317 587 1598 328\n 1843 3020 242 301 588 1720 420\n 1844 2973 255 285 1575 335\n 1845 3082 216 290 596 1700 338\n 1846 3012 247 376 611 1707 373\n 1847 3047 251 345 1852 377\n 1848 3301 278 305 1649 398\n 1849 3583 275 337 452 1527 328\n 1850 3596 340 454 1743 390\n 1851 3598 165 401 552 1816 402\n 1852 3676 150 426 637 2073 530\n 1853 3415 161 419 705 1942 431\n 1854 3700 189 363 770 2198 547\n 1855 3810 166 399 2351 568\n\nMaking all possible allowance for increased population in each of\nthese countries throughout the space of twenty years, and for\ngreater accuracy in the later records than in the earlier ones,\nit still remains incontestable that in civilized countries\nsuicide is on the increase, and that this increase exceeds that\nof the population.\n\nBy taking the annual proportion to a million of inhabitants, we\nshall perceive that this crime is more frequent in some countries\nthan in others. The following figures comprise the period from\n1856 to 1866:\n\n In France, to one million of inhabitants, there\n occurred yearly 111 suicides;\n in Belgium, 47;\n in Denmark, 276;\n in Austria, 64;\n in Prussia, 122;\n in Saxony, 245;\n in Bavaria, 72;\n in Hanover, 137;\n in W\u00fcrtemberg, 85;\n in Baden, 108;\n in Hesse, 134;\n in Mecklenburg, 162;\n in Nassau, 102;\n in Portugal, 7;\n in England and Wales, 65;\n in Hungary, 30;\n in Dalmatia, 11;\n in Europe generally, 84.\n\nVery notable differences may be observed in these figures. The\ndegree of intellectual culture and social refinement is about the\nsame in Saxony as in Belgium, yet these two countries stand\nwidely apart on the record of suicides, even if it be allowed\nthat the estimate for Belgium is somewhat too low. There can be\nno doubt that religion exercises a decided influence in this\nmatter. Saxony is a Protestant country, whilst Belgium is\nCatholic. Similar divergences exist in favor of Austria when\ncompared with Prussia, and of Bavaria compared with Hanover.\n\nSuicides are far more frequent amongst Protestants than amongst\nCatholics. The latter possess in their faith far more remedies\nagainst temptation to suicide than the former are able to obtain\nfrom theirs. A Protestant despairs more readily than a Catholic.\n\nThese remarks apply only to countries at large. The great\nmetropolises, which may properly be designated hot-beds of\nsuicide, must be taken as exceptions, because in them practical\nreligion easily dies out and cannot exercise its usual influence.\nIn the year 1865, when Paris had a population of 1,863,000\ninhabitants, there were 706 cases of suicide, that is, one to\nevery 2638; in Vienna, with a population of 550,000 inhabitants,\nthere were 110 cases, that is, one for every 5000; in London,\nwith 3,000,000 inhabitants, there were 267, that is, one for\nevery 11,715; and in New York, population 1,095,000, 36 cases of\nsuicide, one to every 28,000 inhabitants. Accordingly, the\ngreatest number of suicides is committed in Paris, where reign\nthe highest degree of social culture and the most rigorous police\nsurveillance, and the smallest number occurs in New York, the\nseat of the greatest social and political liberty.\n\nWe may here state, as a general rule, that high intellectual\nculture is not a preventive of suicide. Observation shows, on the\ncontrary, that it is comparatively most frequent in countries\nwhere the enlightenment of the population has attained the\nhighest point, and that it occurs far oftener in cities than in\nrural districts.\n{646}\nThis fact is unmistakable evidence that moral improvement is not\nkeeping pace with intellectual progress, and that governments,\nwhilst furthering the latter with increasing zeal, are not\nbestowing sufficient care on the former. From the year 1826 to\nthe year 1860, suicides increased 130 per cent in France, whilst\nthe population increased but 13 per cent. This astounding\ncircumstance has been looked upon as attributable to the\nadvancement of industry and the progress of science and popular\neducation; and no doubt justly, if we consider how much more\nfrequently suicide is committed in the enlightened northern and\neastern departments of France than in the less progressive\nsouthern and western.\n\nSomething similar is noticeable in Germany. Saxony and its\nneighboring provinces rank undeniably as high in general\neducation as any state in Germany; but it is also to be remarked\nthat they furnish the largest number of cases of suicide; whilst\nin the Tyrol, Old Bavaria, and other provinces of a lower grade\nof general education, the number is considerably less. And if, in\nthe Catholic parts of the Rhenish provinces and in Westphalia,\nwhich are not behind Saxony in general culture, suicides are of\nless frequent occurrence, we are only justified in attributing\nthe difference to the happy influence of the Catholic religion.\n\nQuite a peculiar discovery from statistics, and one that at first\nthought is rather astonishing, is the fact that the number of\nsuicides increases with the advance of age, and that the\nproportion appears to be equal in the two sexes. It seems that\nindifference about life and recklessness about the dread future\nbecome greater as the years of life pass by. This, however, may\nbe psychologically accounted for without inventing for the\npurpose a _general law_, according to which suicides are\nsupposed to be apportioned to the various ages of human life.\n\nWe will now cast a glance at the statistics of crimes. Accurate\nrecords upon this subject, published in England, Belgium, and\nFrance during a series of years, afford us ample material for\nthis investigation. Similar records, commenced at a later period,\nhave been kept in the Netherlands, in Bavaria, in Baden and other\nstates; and since 1854, the Prussian Ministry of Justice has,\nevery second or third year, published a thorough report of the\nproceedings of the criminal courts of that kingdom. It is\nimpracticable, however, to establish a comparison between\ndifferent countries on this point, as very notable differences\nexist between them with respect to their laws and their\nadministration of justice. We are consequently compelled to\nconfine our observations to one country. We choose Prussia as it\nwas before 1866, because its various provinces present a variety\nof forms of religion, nationalities, degrees of education,\nindustry, and commerce, which affords an excellent opportunity\nfor instituting comparisons. Moreover, the same code is\neverywhere in use, excepting in the Rhenish provinces, where the\nNapoleonic is established.\n\nThe following table exhibits the number of criminals, with their\nreligious professions, as arraigned before the criminal courts of\nPrussia from 1855 to 1862:\n\n Accused. Evangelicals. Catholics. Jews.\n 1855 8089 4743 3245 84\n 1856 8722 5116 3509 87\n 1857 6260 3658 2493 105\n 1858 4995 3038 1870 81\n 1859 5192 3083 2024 82\n 1860 5283 3164 2028 85\n 1861 5720 3308 2319 88\n 1862 5690 3382 2327 76\n\n Average 6244 3686 2477 86\n\n{647}\n\nOn an average, from eighteen to nineteen per cent of the accused\nwere every year pronounced not guilty. It might naturally be\nexpected that, in the case of special crimes, the ratio of those\nacquitted to those condemned would vary greatly. Thus, of 100\naccused of theft, an average of 6 was acquitted; of serious\ninjury done to the person, an average of 25; of murder, about 16;\nof violation of official obligations, about 36; of perjury,\nupward of 41.\n\nBy calculating what proportion of the accused from 1859 to 1862\nbelonged to each of the above-mentioned religious denominations,\nwe find that of the Jews there was one accused for every 2978\ninhabitants; one Catholic for every 3087, and one Protestant for\nevery 3415. Hence, the accused were most numerous amongst the\nJews; least numerous amongst the Protestants. The unfavorable\nposition here assigned to the Catholics is accounted for by the\nfact that large figures refer to the eastern provinces of\nPrussia, which are inhabited in a great measure by Catholic\nSclaves, with little culture and very much impoverished. A\nconsiderable difference is observable in the provinces. The\naverage of a period of four years (1859-1862) counts 1 accused\nfor every 2345 in Silesia, 2503 in Posen, 2853 in Brandenburg,\n3101 in Prussia proper, 4056 in Pomerania, 4436 in Saxony, 4863\nin Westphalia, 5095 in the Rhenish province.\n\nThe eastern provinces present a sadder condition than the\nwestern. Unfortunately the statistical tables give us no\ninformation concerning the nationality of the accused. But, if we\nconfine our investigation to Rhineland and Westphalia, where the\npopulation is purely German, the result will be found altogether\nin favor of Catholicity. The census of these two provinces,\nincluding Hohenzollern, amounted in 1861 to 1,474,520 Protestants\nand 3,313,709 Catholics. During a term of five years,\n(1858-1862,) 1463 Evangelicals and 3138 Catholics appeared before\nthe tribunals, making 1 for 5035 Evangelicals and 1 for 5280\nCatholics. Whence we infer that nationality, want of education,\nand poverty produce effects in the eastern provinces which cannot\nbe found where Catholics and Protestants are on an equality in\nthose respects.\n\nThe comparison seems to be specially favorable to the Catholic\nprovinces when the infliction of punishment upon the guilty is\nconsidered. For great offences, the punishment is penitentiary;\nfor less offences, imprisonment. Now, although in 1855 the number\nof accused was much greater amongst the Catholics than amongst\nthe Protestants, nevertheless there was but one penitentiary\nculprit for 8430 inhabitants in Rhineland and Westphalia, whilst\nin the Protestant provinces there was 1 for 4179. Hence, the\nnumber of penitentiary culprits in these latter being double\nargues likewise greater crimes.\n\nThe foregoing statistics of criminals, considered with respect to\ncreed, enable us to form a conclusion in regard to the influence\nof the particular form of religion upon the dispositions of men.\nAmongst Catholics, the crimes peculiar to youth seem to\npredominate, whilst amongst Protestants they are the crimes of\nmature and of advanced age.\n\nThe former appear to decrease with the advance of intellectual\nculture and improvement in temporal welfare, whilst the latter,\non the contrary, appear to become more numerous.\n\n{648}\n\nFurther figures might be given showing that the majority of\ncriminals belong to the laboring classes, and that the incentives\nto crime are want and absence of training amongst the working\npeople, and dissipation and luxury in higher ranks of society. We\nwill, however, content ourselves with what has been stated, and\nproceed to discuss the conclusions which materialists draw from\nsuch data.\n\nAt the present day, materialists conclude, from such facts and\nfigures as these, that the volition of man is not free. They\npretend that it is impossible to explain the regularity with\nwhich acts, seemingly voluntary and deliberate, are elicited,\nunless we accept the conclusion that free will is a mere fiction\nof the imagination, and that science inevitably forces us to the\nconviction that all human acts depend on what they designate a\nlaw of nature. They say that such a degree of order in the\noccurrence of human acts could not possibly result from the\nunbiased power of self-determination. They reject the distinction\nbetween nature and man as a being partly spiritual, and consider\nhim as a purely material product of nature, subjected, like\nanimals, plants, and minerals, to general laws, without the power\nof exercising the slightest influence on his own destiny. And\nthis outcry against free-will is raised by men in every\ndepartment of science, by naturalists, philosophers, historians,\nphysicians, and jurists. Says Buckle, in his _History of\nEnglish Civilization_, speaking of the evidences of moral\nstatistics:\n\n \"In certain conditions of society a large proportion of men\n _must_ put an end to their own existence. Such is the\n general law. The special inquiry as to who is to commit the\n crime depends, of course, upon particular laws, which, in their\n united energies, must obey the general law to which they are\n subordinate. And the force of the higher law is so irresistible\n that neither the attachment to life nor the dread of the future\n can to any degree hinder its execution.\"\n\nDankwart declares boldly:\n\n \"Man is not a free agent. He is just as little responsible for\n any of his deeds as a stone which, in obedience to the law of\n gravitation, falls upon one's head. The criminal act was the\n necessary development of a law of nature.\"\n\nWhat are we to say in reply to these attacks? Are the facts of\nstatistics really so decisive and convincing as to compel us to\nabandon the time-honored dogma of Free-Will, to which the noblest\nand loftiest minds of all ages have so tenaciously adhered? Can\nthose imposing arrays of figures operate in us to the conviction\nthat, when a man contracts marriage, commits a crime, puts an end\nto his own life, or performs any other act, he necessarily\nfollows a universal law of nature, and cannot, therefore, be held\nresponsible for his deed? Do the acts of men enter into the\neconomy of nature like ebb and flow of tide, day and night,\nsummer and winter? It is not our purpose to enter into deep\nphilosophical disquisitions on free-will. Its materialist\nadversaries ignore all philosophical speculation. They occupy\nthemselves exclusively with _facts_--visible, palpable\nfacts--and upon this vantage-ground we intend to oppose them. Our\ntask, then, in the present instance, is to demonstrate that the\nconclusions drawn from the given premises are unwarranted and\nerroneous; that the _regularity_ in the recurrence of\ncertain acts can be satisfactorily accounted for by _other_\ncauses, without having recourse to a mysterious _law_ of\n_nature_; and lastly, that there are many facts which, even\nwithout free-will, are problems not less difficult to solve.\n\n{649}\n\nIn examining the method by which our adversaries draw inferences\nfrom facts, we shall find that their logic is in contradiction to\nall the laws of correct thinking. \"Not all acts are free,\ntherefore some acts are not free,\" is a proper conclusion; \"but\nsome acts are not free, therefore all acts are not free;\" who\nwould admit such a conclusion? As an illustration, let us take\nanother example from statistics. According to the testimony of\nstatistics, of 908,000 families in Belgium, only 89,630 were in\ngood circumstances in the year 1857. 373,000 were in a very\nstraitened condition; 446,000 were in downright misery. In all\nprobability, the same relative situation may be found existing\nthrough a series of years. Now, what would the enemies of\nfree-will say to the following reasoning: \"In Belgium, the masses\nare in poverty, therefore all Belgians are poor; affluence does\nnot exist at all in Belgium\"? Is not the following reasoning of\ntheirs identically the same: \"In marriages, suicides, crimes, and\nother human acts, the influence of free-will is imperceptible, as\nshown by statistics; therefore, these acts are _not_ free;\ntherefore, the influence of free-will is impossible in _all_\nacts; there is no free-will at all\"? We might even, for\nargument's sake, grant--which, of course, we do not--that the\nabove-mentioned acts are not free, without thereby doing away\nwith free-will in numberless other human acts.\n\nBut this is not the only logical blunder made by our opponents.\nThey infer from the _deed_ to the _volition_. \"The deed\nis not free, therefore neither is the volition.\" Do the deed and\nthe volition always correspond so perfectly that we may, under\nall circumstances, infer from the former to the latter? The very\nfact that in trials before courts extenuating circumstances are\nso strongly insisted upon, is proof positive that the deed and\nthe volition are not always identical. It is a long way from\ndeliberation to decision, and from decision to execution. We may\nnot more infer from the deed to the volition than from the\nvolition to the deed. How absurd to infer from the volition to\nthe deed! And should the reverse be more logical?\n\nWhat does experience show--in trials, for example? A man is\nmurdered, for instance. In one case, the evidence shows that the\nmurderer had harbored his dark design for years, until finally a\nfavorable moment presented itself for the execution. In another\ncase, it will appear that, in a casual quarrel, a man dealt a\nmortal blow to another, perhaps even to his friend, _without\nintending to do it!_ The criminal courts of all countries\npresent multitudes of such instances. It is the statistician's\nprovince to note the deed, but not the volition; and hence, sound\nlogic will never permit inferences in regard to the volition to\nbe drawn from statistical facts.\n\nLet us now examine the foundation on which arguments against the\nfreedom of man's will are based. This foundation is the\n_regularity_ with which the aforesaid acts have been\nobserved to recur, as if within the range of a higher and wider\nlaw. How have statisticians discovered this regularity? Evidently\nonly by summing up facts as they took place within a period of\nsome duration, and over an extensive range of territory, a\nprocess by which the actual differences were entirely put out of\nsight. We learned above that, from 1855 to 1862, a yearly average\nof 6244 criminals was arraigned before the criminal courts of\nPrussia. But particular years fall wide of this average figure.\nThus, in 1856, the number was 8722, that is, 2500 more than the\naverage; in 1858, the number was 4995, that is, more than 1300\nless than the average; and the total of the difference of these\nyears, 3800.\n{650}\nIt would seem that this might as truthfully be called\n_irregularity_ as _regularity_. If, in Prussia, crimes\nare merely the necessary consequences of a natural law, and of\npolitical and social circumstances, can it be reasonably believed\nthat these underwent so great a change in the space of two years\nthat the number of crimes was diminished by one half? It is\nimpossible to draw from such premises conclusions strong enough\nto uproot convictions planted as deeply in the human breast as is\nthat of the freedom of man's will. External circumstances may\nindeed have undergone changes within two years, still these\nchanges are not sufficient of themselves to account for such\nvariations in statistical figures as we have above quoted. These\ncan be accounted for only by taking into consideration the\nfreedom of the human will, which may be influenced, in a measure,\nby external circumstances, but not _necessarily_ controlled.\n\nBut grant that a certain regularity is perceptible in human acts.\nUndoubtedly 8722 and 4995 come nearer to the average figure,\n6244, than would 1200 and 500. Still the regularity may be\nexplained without subjecting all human acts to the influence of a\nlaw of necessity. It is on account of the point of view from\nwhich statisticians examine facts that their _regularity_\nappears so remarkably great, and their differences so\nimmaterially small. We will illustrate what we mean by a\ncomparison. By standing on the brink of a river, we hear the\nplashing and perceive the motion of its waters. By going to a\nmountain-top, at a distance from the stream, we neither hear a\nsound nor observe a motion. Now, could we, whilst standing on the\nmountain-top, reasonably say, \"Before, as we stood on the brink\nof the stream, we _imagined_ that the water was in motion\nand produced a sound but in this elevated position, from which we\nsee the stream for miles, we discover that we were mistaken; the\nstream is evidently silent and without motion\"? Where lies the\nmistake in this instance? and where the truth? Is not the case of\nthe statistician the same? If, viewing things from his elevated\nstand-point, he fails to recognize the free-will of the\nindividual, is the cause to be found in the absence of all free\nvolition, or is it not rather owing to his having taken too high\na stand-point? In order to obtain correct information concerning\nthe material creation, we must enter into details, and carefully\nexamine single specimens; hence the importance of the microscope\nin natural sciences. And why shall we pass by the individual\naltogether, and generalize our observations, when we undertake\nthe study of moral phenomena? Surely, there can be no reason for\nproceeding thus. No man looking from a high tower upon a flock of\nsheep can expect to obtain accurate knowledge of their animal\nnature and conformation.\n\nQuetelet, the founder of the science of moral statistics, and its\nmost talented representative, expresses himself as follows upon\nthe question at issue: \"I do not believe that, in view of such\nevidences, the freedom of the human will can be denied. I only\nthink that it is greatly limited, and, in social affairs, plays\nthe _r\u00f4le_ of an accidental cause. Accordingly, by not\nconsidering individual cases, and by taking things summarily and\nin bulk, it will appear that the influences of accidental causes\nneutralize each other in such a manner as to let none but real\ncauses, in virtue of which society exists, appear.\n{651}\nThe Supreme Being has wisely put limits to our moral powers, as\nwell as to the physical, in order to hinder man from encroaching\nupon his eternal laws. The possibility of founding a science of\nmoral statistics, and of drawing useful inferences from it,\ndepends mainly on the fact that, as soon as observations are made\nupon a _large number of individuals_, the human will retires\nand manifests no perceptible influence.\"\n\nThe action of the free-will of man is, in reality, confined\nwithin very narrow limits. The less a man knows, the fewer must\nbe the objects of his volition and of his desire. Most men have,\nin this respect, but a very narrow range. It is the poor and the\nilliterate who everywhere compose the bulk of the population, and\nit is this bulk precisely that the statistician is obliged to\nconsider. The _power of execution_ is still more limited.\nFor executing, ability and means are required, which, however, in\ninnumerable instances, are found insufficient. But even though\nthe will and the power to execute be limited, freedom of volition\nmay still exist. For we speak of the freedom of a merely\n_human_ will, and man is by nature a _limited_, not an\ninfinite, being. The freedom of man's will can be made available\nonly within the limits placed about the individual. The\nindividual can _will_ only that which he has knowledge of,\nand do that which he has the means to do. Nero once wished that\nthe whole Roman people had but one head, that at a single blow he\nmight strike it off. It was simply the wish of a tyrant gone\ncrazy. It is pretty nearly the same with free-will as with\nunencumbered bodily motion. We have it in our power to wander in\nevery direction upon the globe, but the globe itself we cannot\nleave. It revolves about the centre of the planetary system, and\ncarries us with it in its career. In the same manner can we\npossess freedom of volition and of _doing_; but step beyond\nthe limits of our nature we cannot, and for this very reason,\nsays Quetelet, does the influence of free-will disappear when\nlarger groups become the object of observation.\n\nThe transition from the will to the deed depends on the objective\npossibility of accomplishing the deed. External circumstances\nmust be considered; at times they are favorable, at times again\nthey are unfavorable. Any man can elevate his thoughts to God.\nThe will becomes the deed forthwith. But raising his hands in\nprayer is quite another thing. This can be done only by a man who\nhas the free use of his members. We may infer from a glance at\nthe statistics of marriages and crimes, how much the execution of\nthe will depends upon external circumstances. We quoted above\nthat, among every 10,000 inhabitants, there are usually 87\nmarriages in Prussia, 82 in Saxony, and only 66 in Bavaria. Now\nthe question arises, Is there less inclination to marriage\namongst young people in Saxony and Bavaria than in Prussia, or\ndoes the law of necessity, supposed to control such events, cease\nto be in force when it reaches the boundaries of Bavaria? Not at\nall. The difference is simply this. In Prussia it only requires\ntwo parties, a bride and a groom, for a marriage contract, whilst\nin Bavaria it requires three, a bride, a groom, and a functionary\nof the police department, and, as everybody knows, it is harder\nfor three to come to an agreement than for two. Besides these\nlegal hinderances, there are many others that oppose the will to\nmarry. We have only to look about to notice them.\n{652}\nOne man may have the will to marry, but cannot find a suitable\nmatch; another may not be able to obtain the consent of his\nparents; a third may not have a sufficient livelihood; a fourth\nmay be prevented from marriage by war, by sickness or any other\ncause. They all may have the will to get married, but external\ncircumstances do not permit it.\n\nExternal circumstances exert a similar influence upon crimes.\nStatistics show that five times more men than women are arraigned\nfor crimes. Are we to suppose hence that women are so much better\nthan men? Hardly. The number of women criminally disposed cannot\nsurely be much less than that of men; but women want the ability,\nthe means, and the adventurous spirit necessary to carry out\ntheir evil designs. In years of famine, as the number of\nmarriages decreases, that of theft increases. In France, in 1846,\na year of plenty, 31,768 persons were convicted of larceny. In\n1847, a year of scarcity, the figure rose to 41,626, and the year\nafter, it fell again to 30,000. Similar facts might be quoted for\nEngland. What becomes of the _law_ of _nature_ in\npresence of such evidences? Starvation is something exceedingly\n_natural_, if you will; but if a man prefers starving to\nstealing, he will not be dragged before the tribunals. In 1836\nand 1837, there was great distress in England, during which many\ndied of starvation. Many had not the _will_ to prolong their\nlives by stealing, many others had not the chance. No statistical\nrecord can acquaint us with the ratio of those who had not the\nwill, to those who had not the chance; whence we are authorized\nto argue that no inference can be drawn from such records\nregarding the _will_ of men.\n\nIt is incontestable that the individual is greatly influenced by\nthe social, moral, religious, domestic, and intellectual\ncircumstances in which he happens to be placed. Still it cannot\nbe conceded that these circumstances do away with the freedom of\nman's will. True enough, men permit themselves to be controlled,\nin a great measure, by the circumscribed relations of private\nlife, but they do so for the very purpose of remaining in those\nrelations. There are many cases in which men see no motive for\nwithdrawing from under the influence of existing circumstances.\nSacrifices are even made to existing circumstances in order that\nthey may continue the same. As for instance, in the case of\ntax-paying. We may complain loudly of the burden of taxes, still\nwe pay them. Should we have a mind not to pay them, we leave the\ncountry for another less oppressed. The man that remains pays his\ntaxes _unwillingly_ indeed, yet of _his own free-will_.\nUnwillingness does not preclude free-will.\n\nThe narrower the circumstances, the more limited the education,\nthe lower the rank of a man, the greater are his efforts to\naccommodate himself to circumstances; and _vice versa_, the\ngreater his wealth and the higher his education, the more\nindependent is he.\n\nIn European countries, a son usually adopts the profession of his\nfather. The son of a farmer becomes a farmer, and the son of a\nmechanic becomes a mechanic. Statisticians might easily adduce\nimposing columns of figures to prove this, and the enemies of\nfree-will might call it a law of necessity. Yet what multitudes\nof exceptions are there not? Thousands submit to the\ncircumstances that surround them at their birth, nevertheless\nthere will always be a few who will not submit. These will\nstruggle and push their way into the highest positions of life.\n\n{653}\n\nWhen nature and natural laws are alone in operation, and there is\nno interference on the part of man, natural circumstances\ncontinue the same during centuries. At the present time the\nAmazon river presents about the same appearance as when the first\nwhite men paddled their frail canoe along its luxuriant banks.\nThe hand of man has made but few changes. But within the same\nspace of time the Mississippi and its tributaries have undergone\nthe most astonishing changes. Flourishing towns now occupy the\nformer pasture-ground of the buffalo, and where the alligator\nonce held undisturbed possession, are now to be seen golden acres\nof corn and snowy fields of cotton. It would be hard to recognize\nin the Germania of Tacitus the Germany of the present day. Soil\nand climate have both undergone changes. Were men controlled by\nlaws of necessity like the rest of creatures, they never would\nhave been able to effect these modifications of physical nature.\nThere is a principle in man which other creatures want. Together\nwith understanding, he is endowed with a free-will whose action\nis always perceptible where man engages in an unusual struggle\nwith nature.\n\nMuch ado is made about the influence of the social, domestic, and\nreligious condition of the masses upon the individual. It is said\nthat his action is necessarily directed and controlled by this\ninfluence. But we would know who creates these particular\nconditions--who brings them about--and who changes them?\nEverybody knows that elephants are very sagacious animals. But\nthe elephants employed nowadays in India for the chase and other\npurposes are not a whit more sagacious nor a whit less stupid\nthan those which King Porus employed in the war against Alexander\nthe Great, 2000 years ago. Had elephants been endowed with\nunderstanding and free-will, they would, in all probability, have\nmade some little progress within 2000 years. We never speak of\nintellect, morals, and religion when animals are the subject of\nconsideration; we only speak of their natural condition, and this\ncircumstance alone shows that we must not look upon man as a mere\npart of material nature, under the same necessary laws. So far as\nthe body is concerned, he belongs to material nature, and\nundergoes its influence; but, as to the spirit, he rises above\nnature, and for this very reason, enters into a contest with\nnature, and triumphs. The fertile marshes of Holland and\nFriesland are not a gift from the ocean, but man has wrested them\nfrom the ocean; they are the creation of his mind and invincible\nstrength of will.\n\nWe several times before made mention of the happy influence of\nCatholicity upon its adherents. Most Catholics, it is true,\nbelong to the communion by virtue of their descent from Catholic\nparents, and, thus far, this may be called a natural\ncircumstance. But this same circumstance is brought about by the\ndeliberate and free will of thousands of persons who in England,\nGermany, and America are annually returning to the old church.\nSomebody might perhaps imagine a \"conversion-law,\" according to\nwhich a certain number of Protestants must inevitably become\nCatholics every year.\n\nIt seems to us that the science of moral statistics has been\nturned against the dogma of free-will, chiefly because\nstatisticians have directed their attention to such facts only as\nare most immediately under the control of external circumstances.\nHad they selected other facts, the result would not have led men\nso easily to form conclusions opposed to the freedom of the human\nwill.\n{654}\nWe will give an example. France is a Catholic country. There are\n35,000,000 of Catholics in France. It is customary amongst\nCatholics to go to confession. We suppose it would not be putting\nthe figure too high if we said that about 100,000,000 confessions\nare heard annually in France. Every statistician will readily\ngrant that in France, and in every Catholic country, the\naggregate of the confessions will be nearly alike for different\nyears--and that the proportions of men and women, and the\nvariances for the different seasons, months, days, etc., will\npresent a decided appearance of regularity. Now, would Buckle be\nready to say: \"In the present condition of France, one hundred\nmillions of confessions must take place every year. This is the\ngeneral law. The particular inquiry as to who is to go to\nconfession depends, of course, on special laws whose united\nforces must, however, obey the general laws to which they are\nsubordinate. And the force of the general law is so irresistible,\nthat neither fear of the priest nor the impenitence of man can\nexert the slightest influence for the hinderance of its action\"?\nWe are inclined to think the materialistic historian would have\nhesitated a while before ranging confession under the _economy\nof nature_.\n\nBefore concluding, there are two more facts which we beg\npermission simply to state. Materialists believe in facts. They\nsay that there is no effect without a cause, and that the effect\ncorresponds with the cause. Now, it is an undeniable fact, that\nevery man that has attained the use of reason believes his\n_will_ to be free. How will materialists account for this\nfact? The belief in the freedom of the will is an effect--the\neffect of what?--of real necessity? We thought the effect should\ncorrespond with the cause. For centuries men have believed their\nwill free, and for centuries criminals have been held responsible\nfor their deeds, and have been punished--and lo! now the\nstatistician does away with free-will altogether! It is plain\nthat this mode of blotting out free-will is merely a cunning but\nerroneous piece of calculation.\n\nThe second fact is this: As often as a reaction follows upon a\nperiod of greater political and social freedom in a state, it has\nbeen remarked that at once the number of births decreases and\nthat of deaths increases. It was the case in France in 1854, and\nin Prussia in 1855. From this fact we infer that liberty is the\natmosphere that suits the nature of populations best, and\nfurthers their increase most. If this is the case, can we, in\nconsequence of the mistaken evidences of statistics, refuse\nindividual man the faculty of free-will, which must be the basis\nand condition of every other kind of liberty? Certainly not.\n\nOne more observation. The free-will of man is one of the\nfundamental dogmas of Christian, and in particular, of Catholic\nfaith. We have seen what can be advanced against it on the\nevidence of moral statistics. But the case of statistics is like\nthat of many other sciences. Its results, at first, appear\nopposed to Catholic faith, and the enemies of the church begin to\nshout with joy at the victory of \"Science over Superstition.\" But\nwhen more closely inspected, the new facts and developments are\nnot only nowhere in contradiction to faith, but are often found\nto agree with and even to aid in substantiating it.\n\n ----------\n\n{655}\n\n From The French Of Marie Jenna.\n\n The Volunteers For Pius IX.\n\n\n Both from Rome and France these men have earned a radiant crown of merit;\n As they drew their sword of fire, all hell, with trembling, saw its flashings.\n What their name? One--Christians! Fear no more when such have come to guard thee,\n Throne and home of Pius!\n\n On they came, those boasters, fed by Rapine, armed by drivelling Folly,\n Eager to profane with blood-stained hands the apostolic altar.\n They were met. And now, as ever, at thy gates, O holy City!\n Hate by Love is conquered.\n\n At thy pure and sacred majesty they dared, O holy Pontiff!\n Dared to mock with cries defiant; and like wolves for blood were thirsting--\n Thine! No, never! Thou hast drunk enough of Suffering's bitter chalice.\n Father! look--thy children!\n\n These for thee have gladly quitted wives and mothers, home and country:\n When the clamorous dastards cried, \"Down with the Pope!\" then these, uprising,\n Clutched their arms, and shoulder unto shoulder marched. \"Fear not!\" they shouted,\n \"We will come and save thee!\"\n\n In their faces gleamed the sacred fire that burns in breasts of Frenchmen!\n If but one of them should fall--for thee the boon of life disdaining--\n From their country's borders there would rise upon the morrow morning\n Thousands to avenge them.\n\n Only that one day, at least, the Christian phalanx--serried closely,\n So that heart may beat to heart--could know that thou hast gazed upon them;\n Only that the Holy Church in prayer their names will once remember,\n Death they gladly welcome.\n\n Holy Father, keep thy double sceptre and thy stainless glory!\n Rome is spared to thee and thou to Rome. Not yet, O sacred exile!\n Heaven will claim thee soon enough, and then, bereaved of thy dear presence,\n We shall be the exiles.\n\n{656}\n\n Yes; the Christian world has sworn that thou from Rome shalt not be driven,\n As a gage it sends these dauntless heroes forward to thy rescue.\n Look upon them. Mark that steady tread, those eyes that flash forth victory.\n Raise thy hand and bless them!\n\n On to triumph, cavaliers of Christ! Yea, Lord, for thee they conquer,\n When they overcome the enemies of him who represents thee.\n Count _this_ faithful band, O Thou who in thine hour of dereliction\n Saw all thine desert thee!\n\n You whose dear and sacred memory is upon our hearts engraven--\n You, who were the elder brethren of this youthful band of heroes--\n You, who bore the white cross banner till the hands of all fell lifeless\n At Castelfidardo--\n\n You were there! And more than one of these beheld your glorious spirits\n Hovering o'er them as they proudly fell and yielded up their life-blood,\n Waiting with the crowns and palms prepared for such as should be honored\n So to die and conquer.\n\n Happy ye, O chosen ones! your death is fruitful. Ever passing\n Through the world the Church broadcasts her seed in sadness;\n Harvesting in turn with overflowing hands upon the places\n Sown with blood of martyrs.\n\n Mothers, wives, they come not back, the nearest, dearest that have left you!\n Weep! _He_ also wept. But ponder well the words that He has spoken:\n \"Greater love no man may show for him he loves than dying for him.\"\n Even thus they loved Him!\n\n Weep! but sing a song of triumph as the bitter tears are flowing.\n Blest are ye who, in his temple, humbly kneeling at the altar,\n There can offer him a sacrificial incense of such sorrow\n With such glory mingled!\n\n ----------\n\n{657}\n\n Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n\n Number Four.\n\n The Blessed Trinity, Or Multiplicity In The Infinite.\n\n\n General Idea Of The Blessed Trinity.\n\nCatholic doctrine admits that the most pure, simple, and\nundivided unity of the Godhead lies in its nature; but that this\nmost simple nature is terminated by three real, distinct\nsubsistences or persons, who form the only true and living\nInfinite. How this answer affords the solution of the problem\nwill be seen in the course of this treatise, in which we shall\nendeavor to develop the idea of the church in a scientific form.\nBut, before we proceed to analyze it, we feel obliged to develop\nit in a cursory manner, in order to enable the reader to follow\nus in the analysis to which it will be subjected.\n\nWe say, then, that the essence of God, absolutely simple, is\nterminated by three real, distinct, opposite subsistences, which\nare a primary unbegotten activity, a begotten intelligibility, an\naspired goodness; all three in a state of personality. For this\nprimary, unborn activity in the state of personality, in whom the\nwhole Godhead resides, by understanding himself, begets a most\nfaithful conception of himself, an intellectual utterance, a word\nor _logos_. Now, the nature or essence of intellectual\nconception or logos, consists in being the object conceived in\nthe state of intelligibility. It follows, then, that the\nconception of the primary activity, in whom the fulness of the\nGodhead resides, is, in consequence, the Godhead itself in the\nstate of intelligibility, whilst the conceiver is the Godhead\nitself, in the state of intelligent activity. Under this last\nrespect, to wit, of intelligent activity and of intelligibility,\nthe conceiver and the conception are necessarily related to each\nother; a relation which arises from an opposition of origin,\nsince the conceiver, as such, originating the conception, is\nnecessarily opposed to it, and the conception, as such, by being\nconceived, is necessarily opposed to the conceiver. In this sense\nthey are necessarily distinct from each other. It follows from\nthis that each one has a concreteness of his own, a termination\nor a state, by whatever name it may be called; which concreteness\nis incommunicable to the other, and hence each one has the\nownership of himself, and therefore is a person. For the first is\nthe whole Godhead under the termination of unborn intellectual\nactivity, which termination is strictly his own and\nincommunicable. The second is the fulness of the Godhead, under\nthe termination of intelligibility or conception, which belongs\nto him alone, and is likewise incommunicable. But because in both\nresides the whole identical Godhead, though under a distinct,\nopposite, and relative termination, they are both one and the\nsame God.\n\nGod conceiver and God conceived are, then, in nature and essence,\none and the same; whilst as the conceiver and the conceived, they\nare two distinct persons; and in this sense, there is a necessary\nduality in the infinite.\n{658}\nThis duality is brought into harmony and unity by the production\nof a third termination, the Holy Ghost. The conceiver and the\nconceived necessarily love each other. This is the result of a\nmetaphysical law of the act of intelligence, including subject\nand object; since to intelligence an object produces an\ninclination or attraction in the subject toward it. Now the two\npersons in the Godhead intelligence each other; therefore they\nlove each other. It is, again, the nature of love that the object\nloved should abide in the subject loving, in a state of feeling\nor an actively attractive state, a state which human language\ncannot utter. The best expression we can find is, that the object\nshould abide in the subject in the capacity of beatifying it. The\nGodhead, under the termination of conceiver, loves the Godhead\nunder the termination of conceived; and, _vice versa_, the\nGodhead, under the termination of conceived, loves the Godhead\nunder the termination of conceiver. The result of this operation\nis a third termination of the Godhead--the Godhead under the\ntermination of love, goodness, or bliss, proceeding from the\nother two terminations, the conceiver and the conceived. This new\ntermination being distinct from the two former, and opposed to\nthem, inasmuch as it originates from them, is consequently its\nown, incommunicable to the others, and hence a person. But as it\nis the same identical Godhead, under the termination of love, the\nthree are but one and the same God. Without these terminations or\ntriplicity in the Infinite, the God cannot exist or live. For\nwhat is a being without the knowledge of himself and without\nlove? What is life but action? and action without a term\noriginated is a contradiction in terms. The Godhead must, then,\nintelligence and love himself. The result of this are three\nterminations in the Godhead; a primary, unbegotten activity, a\nbegotten intelligibility, an aspired goodness. That these three\nterminations do not break the unity of the Infinite will be\nmanifest from the analysis to which we shall subject them.\n\nWe shall now proceed to vindicate the personality of the three\nterminations against a class of disguised pantheists--disguised\neven to themselves--that is, the Unitarians.\n\nWhy should these three terminations in the Godhead be persons?\nCould not the Godhead understand and love itself without\nsupposing three personalities?\n\nWe answer that without the admission of three persons in the\nGodhead, we should necessarily fall into the pantheistic theory\nconcerning God.\n\nThe Unitarians will concede to us that God must understand and\nlove himself. Without this he were inconceivable. Now, we beg the\nUnitarians to tell us what this intelligence and love are? Are\nthey only passing and transient acts or modifications, or are\nthey faculties and attributes? What are they?\n\nBesides essence and nature, which includes substance, our minds\ncannot conceive any other categories than the following:\n\n 1st. Attributes or perfections.\n\n 2d. Faculties.\n\n 3d. Acts of the faculties or modifications.\n\n 4th. Subsistence and personality.\n\nNow, excluding subsistence and personality, the understanding and\nlove of the Godhead must be either an attribute or faculty, or a\ntransient act, or both of these together.\n\n{659}\n\nThe Unitarians may demur at so many distinctions; but we would\nbeg them to observe that when we see the most sacred dogmas, nay,\nthe very pivot of knowledge, attacked by a flimsy and proud\nphilosophy, we have a right to descend into the depths of\nscience, and ask of the flimsy and boastful philosophy what it\nmeans when it attacks so sweepingly and so confidently. This\nremark has been forced from us by reading the following words of\nChanning: \"We believe in the doctrine of God's unity, or that\nthere is one God, one only. To this truth we give infinite\nimportance, and we feel ourselves bound to take heed lest any man\nspoil us of it by vain (?) philosophy. This proposition, that\nthere is one God, seems to us exceedingly plain. We understand by\nit that there is one being, one mind, one person, one intelligent\nagent, and one only, to whom underived and infinite perfections\nand dominion belong. We conceive that these words could have\nconveyed no other meaning to the simple and uncultivated people,\nwho were set apart to be the depositories of this great truth,\nand who were utterly incapable of understanding those\nhair-breadth distinctions between being and person, which the\nsagacity of other ages has discovered.\"\n\nWe have read very few passages of other authors in which we find\nas much magisterial tone, sweeping assertion, profound ignorance\nof true philosophy, confusion worse confounded, as in these few\nlines of Channing.\n\nIs it possible that Dr. Channing should call a hair-breadth\ndistinction, that which lies between essence and nature, and\npersonality? We suspect that the distinction between these terms\nbeing so nice, Dr. Channing never apprehended it; and without\nthis elementary apprehension of the most fundamental notions of\nontology, Dr. Channing should have kept his peace, and never have\nwritten a book touching mysteries, held and defended even unto\ndeath by thousands of the sublimest, the profoundest, and the\nmost universal geniuses of Christianity; such men as S.\nAthanasius, S. Justin, S. Irenaeus, S. Hilary, S. Augustine, S.\nAmbrose, S. Chrysostom, S. Jerome, S. Fulgentius, S. Thomas,\nBossuet, F\u00e9n\u00e9lon, Pascal, Leibnitz, etc. Before the testimony of\nsuch intellects, even the self-assurance of Dr. Channing should\nhave hesitated. Dr. Channing, then, along with all those who hold\nhis opinion, will be kind enough to tell us what they mean by God\nbeing one mind, one person, one intelligent agent. Are these\nthings attributes, faculties, or acts? Let us define the terms,\nthat the distinction which exists between them may be more\nmanifest. An attribute or perfection is a partial conception of\nour minds, of a certain nature, and more particularly of the\nInfinite. The idea of the infinite implies all perfections. But\nas our limited minds cannot apprehend all that is contained in\nthat idea at one intellectual glance, we are forced to apprehend\nit partially, and to divide it mentally, and to consider each\nside apart. The ideas or notions corresponding to all these\napprehensions of the infinite, we call perfections or attributes.\nBut let it be distinctly understood; ontologically, that is, in\nthe order of reality, they do not exist out of, and are not\ndistinct from, the essence of the Infinite. A faculty is the\ncapacity of development in a being. An act is the transition from\ncapacity into movement. Now, before we close with the Unitarians,\nwe shall give the definition of individuality and personality as\ncarefully and intelligibly as we can.\n\n{660}\n\nThat last termination or complement of a being, which makes it a\nunit, _in se_, separated or at least distinct from all other\nbeings, which makes it _sui juris_ and incommunicable to all\nothers, constitutes what ontology calls individuality. To\nillustrate this definition, let us suppose our body in the two\ndifferent states to which it is subject, when it is united to our\nsoul, and when it is separated from it. It is evident that when\nmy body is yet united to the soul, it is a corporal substance,\nbut not an individuality, because it has none of those elements\nnecessary to constitute individuality. It is not a unit _in\nse_, neither is it separated from any other being, because it\nis united to the soul, and hence it is communicable; and above\nall, it is not _sui juris_, since the soul possesses it as\nits most intimate and most subordinate organ and instrument. Let\nus take the other state of our body, when the soul has left it.\n\nBy this very fact, the body becomes an individuality, that is to\nsay, a unit _in se_, distinct and separated from any other\nbeing, _sui juris_, and incommunicable. So true is this,\nthat should that body in such a state, undergo any change, or do\nwhat we might improperly call an action, that change or action\nwould be attributed to it, and to it alone.\n\nFor instance, suppose that body should fall and crush by its\nweight some living creature, we should say that body has killed\nthat creature, because it _is_ an individuality; whereas,\nsuppose that same body, possessed of the soul, falling at night\nout of bed, should kill by its weight that living creature, we\ncould no longer say that body has killed, but we should say that\nman fell last night out of his bed, and killed, for instance, his\nchild; because the union of the body with the soul as its most\nintimate organ, deprives it of its individuality, and\nconsequently of solidarity.\n\nPersonality adds to individuality the element of intelligence,\nand consequently of self-consciousness.\n\nA person, therefore, is a substance, possessed of intelligence\nand self-consciousness, forming a unit _in se_, and hence\nbeing distinct from all others, having the ownership of himself,\n_sui juris_, and being the principle of imputability for all\nhis actions.\n\nIf these notions, on which depend the whole field of ontology,\nwhich are the foundation of morality, of all social and political\nrights of man, on which the very bliss and ultimate perfection of\nman rest--if such notions are hair-breadth distinctions, we thank\nGod that we are endowed with intelligence enough to apprehend\nthem; else, were a man to-morrow to force us into slavery, on the\nplea that we are only things, and not persons, we should be at a\nloss how to stop him, not being able, like Channing, to apprehend\nour own personality, that supreme gift which makes us feel master\nand owner of ourselves and accountable for our actions.\n\nHaving premised these notions, we say the Unitarians, who grant\nthat the Infinite is endowed with intelligence and will, must\nadmit one of these three things: either the intelligence and will\nare perfections or attributes, or they are faculties, or they are\npersons. If they admit them to be perfections, they divide the\nInfinite; if they admit them to be faculties, they fall into\npantheism.\n\nThis is what we are going to prove in the following propositions.\n\nFirst proposition: If intelligence and will were admitted to be\nmere perfections in God, the admission would imply a division in\nGod and a breaking up of the Infinite.\n\n{661}\n\nBefore we proceed to prove this proposition, we premise that in\nthe argument we take intelligence and will in action, and not in\npotentiality; in other words, we take them as acts, and not as\nfaculties.\n\nThe reason is because, as we shall prove, there can be no\nfaculties or potentiality in the Infinite. This premised, we lay\ndown the undoubted ontological truth that between intelligence in\nact and the conception or interior _logos_, the result of\nintelligencing, there is and must be a real distinction. In other\nwords, the intellect in act and the conception of the intellect\nnecessarily imply a duality.\n\nThe reason of this is evident. First, because between the\nintellect in action and conception there is necessarily an\nopposition. The intellect in act, is such, inasmuch as it is not\nconception, and _vice versa_. Now, a real opposition\nimplies, necessarily, a real distinction. Again, the conception\nor interior _logos_ is to the intellect in action as the\neffect is to its cause, or, better, as the consequence is to its\nprinciple.\n\nIf, therefore, there were no real distinction between the\nintellect and the conception, there would be no real distinction\nbetween the effect and its cause, the principle and its\nconsequence. Hence, thinking and thought are necessarily\ndistinct. What is true of the act of thinking and of thought is\ntrue of the will and its _volition_, for the same reason.\nHence it is evident that the intellect in action, thought or the\nconception, the will in action and its volition, are necessarily\ndistinct by their very ontological nature and relation. It\nfollows, then, that if we admit them to be mere perfections of\nthe Infinite, we would imply a real distinction in the essence of\nthe Infinite, in other words, a duality of essence; because a\nperfection in the Infinite is identical with essence, since we\nhave said that perfections have no real existence _in re_,\nand are only partial conceptions of our minds, which cannot take\nin the Infinite at one intellectual glance.\n\nIntelligence in action and conception, therefore, being\nconsidered as perfections, would be identical with the essence;\nand they requiring, in force of their metaphysical nature, a real\ndistinction, the distinction would fall upon the essence of the\nInfinite. Any one versed in ontology will perceive this truth at\na glance. Hence, Unitarians cannot say that the intelligence and\nthe conception of the intelligence, the will and love in the\nInfinite, are mere perfections, without admitting a real\ndistinction in the essence of the Infinite, and thus admitting a\nmultiplicity of Infinites, which is absurd.\n\nSecond proposition: If Unitarians rank the intellect and thought,\nthe will and its volition, of the infinite among faculties, they\nthen fall into pantheism.\n\nOntology, as we have said, defines a faculty to be a force of\ndevelopment by union with its object.\n\nIts notion implies three elements:\n\n1. A force residing dormant in a being.\n\n2. An object.\n\n3. A union of the force with the object, to render the\ndevelopment actual.\n\nApplying this idea to the subject in question, every one can see\nat a glance that a faculty cannot be predicated of the Infinite\nwithout falling into pantheism.\n\nFor it would be to admit in God a force of development, a\ncapacity of unfolding, of actualizing himself.\n\n{662}\n\nNow, every faculty of development necessarily begins, from the\nminimum degree of actuality, to travel by progressive stages of\nunfolding to an indefinite maximum of progression. Hence, in the\nsupposition, we should be forced to admit that God started from\nthe minimum of life and action, and that he travelled through\nnumberless stages of development, and will travel indefinitely\nthrough higher stages in the direction of a maximum of progress\nnever to be attained. Now, this is almost verbatim the\npantheistic theory of Hegel.\n\nEvery one who has read Hegel will have observed that his idea of\nthe Infinite coincides perfectly with the above. For he starts\nfrom a minimum of reality, the _Being, Idea,_ which, through\na necessary interior movement, becomes matter, organism,\nanimality, intelligence, etc.\n\nIt would not do for Unitarians to say that the argument does not\napply to their system, since they admit a substance already\nexisting and perfect as to being, only endowed with faculties.\nFor, in the supposition, they would admit a finite, not an\ninfinite being.\n\nIn a finite being we can conceive one already perfect in the\norder of existence, with faculties or force of accidental\ndevelopment. But we cannot say the same of the Infinite. The\npositive infinite, so to speak, is essentially actuality itself;\nhence, perfection itself, all terms which exclude and eliminate\nevery possibility of development. If it be not that it must be\nthe Infinite of pantheism, a mere abstraction and unreality.\n\nFrom what we have said, we conclude:\n\nFirst, that the mystery of the Trinity is essentially necessary\nto the idea of God; that there can be no conception of Infinite\nactuality but through the supposition of three distinct\nterminations of the same essence.\n\nSecondly, that Unitarians are absolutely powerless before\npantheism; nay, that their system is disguised pantheism; and\nthat by holding fast only to the unity of God, they sap the very\nfoundation of the reality of the Infinite.\n\nThe Infinite is essentially living. A living God is essentially\nconceiving himself by intellect. A subjective conception\nnecessarily implies an objective conception. These two are\nabsolutely and necessarily opposed to each other, and hence,\nreally distinct. Again, a living God, who necessarily conceives\nhimself, necessarily loves himself through his conception. Again,\nsubjective love necessarily implies an objective love, and the\ntwo are essentially opposed, and hence distinct.\n\nThus we have three real distinct relations in the Infinite, a\nconceiver, a conception, and love.\n\nOn the one hand, these three relations cannot be either\nperfections or faculties; on the other, they cannot be denied of\nthe Infinite without destroying the very idea of the Infinite. It\nfollows, then, that they should be three terminations of the same\nessence.\n\nThe act of intelligence in God is so actual and perfect as to be\nin the very same state of personality intelligence itself. The\nproduction of this act is also so actual and perfect as to be\nconception itself, a personality distinct from the first. Love,\nthe necessary production of both the intelligence and the\nconception, is also so actual and perfect, as to be love itself\nin a state of personality, three distinct subsistences of the\nsame one infinite essence.\n\n ----------\n{663}\n\n Heremore-Brandon; Or, The Fortunes Of A Newsboy.\n\n\n Chapter IV.\n\nIn the beautiful dawn Dick awoke, hardly remembering where he\nwas, and almost frightened at the wonderful absence of many\nnoises which had never before failed to greet his waking. Not\nknowing whether it were very late or very early, Dick took the\nsafest view of the subject, and hurriedly dressed himself; then,\ncautiously opening his door, he looked out to see if there was\nany sign to guide his further movements: All was silent around\nhim; but the hall door stood wide open, letting in a square of\ngolden sunshine at the foot of the stairs. He went carefully and\nnoiselessly down, and found himself, when he reached the porch,\nin a flood of glorious light. The flowers that hung above the\nporch were sparkling in it, for the dew was yet fresh on all the\nworld; a thousand birds were carolling songs of exultation from\nevery tree, while the cool, fragrant morning air came to him in\nthe freshest, purest breezes that ever were known.\n\nEven the pebbles, from which the sun had not yet kissed away a\nsingle dew-drop, were sparkling like jewels as Dick approached\nthem on his way to the little rustic gate under the evergreen\narch. He stood leaning over it a long time, looking down the\ncool, shadowy lane, his heart joining in the joyous morning hymn\nof nature, for the first time heard.\n\nHe was standing by the gate, enjoying all, when new voices\nreached his ears--human voices--and the children all at once came\nrushing from the garden at the back of the house, in a tumult of\ndelight, surrounding him almost before they were aware of his\npresence, so intent were they upon their mission to the village.\n\n\"Me doing to the 'tore!\" exclaimed little Trot, rubbing her\nhands. \"Me dot a pocket.\"\n\nWhich double hint Dick took at once by putting pennies in the\n\"pocket,\" much to her delight and the older ones' annoyance.\n\n\"For shame, Trot!\" said Will, \"that's as bad as asking; and you\ncan't go to the store either; you'll get wet, the grass is all\nwet. 'Tan't no good for girls; you stay home.\"\n\nWhereupon Trot rubbed her brown little fists in her eyes, and\nloudly bewailed her misery in being only a girl, showing also\nthat she had a will of her own that by no means acknowledged this\nbig boy as its lord and master. Dick attempted to show him that\nwhereas Trot's dress was already a finger deep with wet from the\nlong grass through which she had been tramping all the morning so\nfar, it couldn't make much difference if it got a little wetter.\nBut Will was firm, and Trot inappeasable, until, much to our\nhero's relief, the noise brought out Rose, who was greatly\nashamed of Trot for making \"such a time before the strange\ngentleman,\" and very firmly decided for Will. In some magic way\nshe sent the boy portion unencumbered by any of the weaker sex,\non their way rejoicing, found something for the girls to do, and\ntook Trot's hand so resolutely that not a sob was ventured by\nthat small maiden, so that there was again peace in the land.\n\n{664}\n\nThen came breakfast, with a further display of clean calico, a\ngreat deal of laughing and merry talk, but in a less leisurely\nway than at tea, for the day's work was before not behind them.\nBreakfast finished, the children, our hero, Rose, and Rose's\nbosom friend, Clara Hays, were sent off to pick berries in the\nwoods. Half the morning they were in getting started; for\neverybody spoke at once, and everybody hurried and detained\neverybody else. There were at least a dozen false starts. As soon\nas seven got to the gate, Trot and Minnie were reported missing;\nno sooner were Trot and Minnie secured, than some one else was\nout of the way. But at last they got fairly off, and went down\nthe lane in great glee; the children swinging their pails and\nbaskets in advance, and running back every two minutes to give\nsome valuable information about the road or the woods or the\nberries, or something equally important. Rose, Clara, and Dick\nbrought up the rear in a manner that showed they had a becoming\nsense of the responsibility thrown upon them as the elders of the\nparty.\n\nWhat they did all day in the woods, how many brooks they crossed,\nwho fell in and was fished out with much laughter; how little\nTrot got in everybody's way, and ate the others' berries as fast\nas they were picked; how the children met other children on the\nroad; how often all parties rested, and teased each other, and\ncompared the quantity each had picked; and whether Dick, who had\nsoon got over his awkwardness, put his berries into Clara's pail\nor into Rose's basket, I am not able to relate. I only know they\nreturned at evening very noisy and very tired; and that Rose had\na larger stock than any other one of the whole party; and that as\nshe took off her broad-brimmed straw hat, and pushed back the\nmoist curls from her face, this young lady did not go up at once\nto wash off the purple berry stains from her hands, and to put on\nthe pretty blue muslin with its tiny bit of lace around the neck,\nbut lingered to hear the children, each interrupting the other,\nuntil they were nearly all talking at once, tell Mr. and Mrs.\nStoffs and Mrs. Alaine the day's adventures. Dick, too, had\nsomewhat to relate, and glanced at Rose while he told it,\nalthough it was only what the children had told twice over\nalready, how Mr. Dick--it had come to that with the\nchildren--didn't know a turkey from a goose, and had called\nthings by their wrong names all day; whereat Rose laughed with\nthe rest, and then ran up to bathe her glowing cheeks in time to\nhelp get tea.\n\nWhen she came down, she found the children in the same eager\nexcitement, following the two women from kitchen to cellar, from\nthe closet to the table, still telling about the big snake they\nwere sure they had seen run across the path just before them, and\nthe rabbits, and what Minnie had said, and Will had done, and\nCharley had thought; to all which the listeners gave an attentive\near, laughing when there was need, and surprised at the proper\nmoment. At tea, the day in the woods continued to furnish food\nfor animated discussion, and neither Rose nor Dick looked as if\nthe subject were a tiresome one.\n\n\"And how did my little Trot get along?\" asked Uncle Carl; but\nTrot, who was tired, and cross, and impatient for her piece of\ncake, made no answer.\n\n\"Trot tumbled into the water,\" said Will; \"she always tumbles\nin.\"\n\n{665}\n\nThen Trot who couldn't bear to be teased, looked as if she were\nabout to cry, but was appeased by a word or two from Rose, and\nCarl asked who pulled her out.\n\n\"Oh! I did,\" answered Will readily; \"I and Mr. Dick.\"\n\n\"I see that Mr. Dick is very good to you,\" said Mrs. Stoffs, with\na kind smile toward our hero, who colored and looked his delight.\n\n\"I don't think we can get along without Mr. Dick any more, can\nwe?\"\n\nThe children declared they could not, and Dick was as pleased as\nif he had just taken a degree; but Rose said nothing about the\nmatter.\n\nWell, that was a merry, merry week; there were so many things\nneeded, and such long walks were required through the woods, and\nover the hills, and even down to the beach, in order to procure\nthem, while every errand took all day to perform, that Dick\nlearned to walk on the soft grass without stumbling; even to\nloiter slowly along by Rose's side, not often looking to see\nwhere he placed his feet; and the children were such good tutors\nthat he learned the names of the birds and animals and insects\nthat came in his way, and knew where there had been the best\ncherries in the spring, where there would be the best place for\nnutting in the fall, and when the grapes would be ripe, \"If only\nhe could be here!\"\n\nIf only he could be here! But a week is only a week, and it will\nend, if it has a life-time in its seven days. The last day had\ncome, and they all knew it; there had been a better dinner. \"Mr.\nDick's last dinner with us, you know,\" they had said to each\nother; and something more than sweet-cakes and peaches for tea,\nfor \"to-morrow Mr. Dick will not be here.\" But, for all their\nconsideration, Mr. Dick hardly knew that night if he were eating\nsweet-cakes or bitter bread.\n\nIt was a very quiet evening that followed the last tea at\nCarlton. The children were more silent than usual; even Trot was\nnot proof against the indescribable feeling that settles over a\ngroup from which one is about to take his departure. She climbed\ninto Dick's lap, and--an uncommon thing with that restless\nmaiden--did not offer to leave her position all those long\ntwilight hours. When Miss Brandon rode by--as I forgot to state\nshe did at twilight every evening--her beautiful pony, her long\ndress, her hat with its drooping feather, her veil fluttering in\nthe evening breeze, her buff gauntlets, and her silver-handled\nriding-whip--things which had set the whole flock in commotion\nbefore--were hardly commented upon. When Mr. Irving, so tall and\nprincely, left her side for a moment, and, coming close to the\ngate, called after Will, it was found Rose had forgotten the\nusual bouquet of flowers for the ladies, and had to beg the\ngentleman to wait. Rose felt very guilty; but Dick endeavored to\nconsole her by saying that, without doubt, Mr. Irving was glad to\nhave a little more time with such a beautiful young lady as Miss\nBrandon; and then fell to praising Miss Mary vehemently--how\nbeautiful she was, how gracious and pleasant to all, and yet\nalways remembering she was a grand young lady. Rose thought it\nvery easy to be good and pleasant when people are rich and\nbeautiful; and then Dick tried to comfort her again, and perhaps\nwith better success than before; for her only answer was a silent\nact of contrition for the envious thought that had flitted across\nher mind. Then, still in silence, she cut the flowers that she\ncould hardly more than guess at in the gathering twilight.\n{666}\nDick was silent, too; and yet there was a great deal he would\nlike to have said, even though he little suspected that all he\nhad so far made clear to her was that Miss Brandon was to him\nlike an angel in a picture, or a heroine in some old romance, and\nthat, beside her silent act of contrition, poor little Rose's\nheart had given one great throb, and had then made an act of\nresignation beside. But Dick found voice to ask for a good-by\nflower, which Rose gave; and it may be there were spoken then a\nfew words of more solemn meaning, such as will come when two\npeople, young and fresh, find their skies suddenly glowing above\nthem, and their hearts full of grateful praise to God, who has\nmade life so sweet. And it may be that little Rose, who said her\nprayers so regularly for all sinners and for all who are tempted,\nsaid a few broken, bashful words, exhorting Dick to goodness even\nin the midst of the \"snares of the great city,\" and that he\neagerly caught the words as they fell, promised her never to\nforget them, and inwardly made a quick cry for God's grace to let\nhim die then rather than do aught to offend him who had showered\nsuch blessings upon him. It may be, too, that Rose--the\nsimple-hearted maiden--was sure he would never break the\npromise, and that their good-by there was a request and a promise\neach to pray for the other. But if so, it was not said in long\nparagraphs, with flowing periods; for Rose was too conscientious\nto detain Mr. Irving a moment longer than needful.\n\nBut I am afraid Rose had to make another act of contrition that\nnight; for when Will brought her the money for the flowers--the\ngarden was her own--she would not take it, but told him to divide\nit among the children, himself, of course, included. Dick thought\nit very generous of her; but I have my own opinion about that.\nToo soon for all the last \"good-nights\" were said, and Dick knew\nhe had spent out his last evening in Carlton for who could tell\nhow long? Yet his dreams were not sad. If he did not actually\nbelieve he was riding on a splendid great horse, by the side of a\nfair damsel on a white pony, down the shadowy lane, into the\nbroad road of the future; that he had given Carl a home for life,\nand a load of toys to the children, with, perhaps, an uplifting\nof his heart, and a readiness to bear, whatever life should bring\nhim worthy of a faithful Christian, I think it was something\n\"very like it.\"\n\nThe next morning there was a hurried breakfast, after which they\nall went to the little yellow station-house to see him off, and\nwaved their hats and handkerchiefs until the train was out of\nsight. A little longer, and they had returned in a rambling\nprocession home, each with some remembrance of him to tell the\nother, while he was in the city at work once more, but as a\ndifferent Dick Heremore from the one who had said goodby, not\nwithout emotion, to his slovenly landlady.\n\n{667}\n\n Chapter v.\n\nWhen Christmas came around again, and made the first break in the\nroutine of his life after his ever-memorable visit to the\ncountry, Dick, now no longer a follower at a distance of that\nSunday morning crowd, but a devout and well-instructed Catholic,\nto whom all the glory and grandeur of the Christmas lights and\nflowers, the music and the bells, were no longer mysteries; after\nhearing the grand high mass--not the only one he had heard that\nday--turned down Fourteenth street, according to the custom of\nmany years, in order that he might pass the Brandons' house,\nwhich had ever held a charm for him, since on its broad steps he\nhad first seen the beauty and loveliness of charity. But he was\nnot thinking just then of Miss Brandon, nor of his newsboy days,\nnor yet of the fast approaching hour when he should present\nhimself at Carl Stoffs's table, in a quarter of the city very\ndifferent from this, where he was to eat his piece of Christmas\nturkey. His thoughts, I am afraid, will seem wild ones; but he\nwas young, it was Christmas-day, he had just come from that\nglorious mass, and the world seemed so small and easy to conquer\nto one who had heard the \"glad tidings,\" so that he may be\nforgiven for dreaming, in a less prosaic and unspiritual manner\nthan I can tell you, of a time when he would eat his Christmas\ndinner neither at a boarding-house nor at another man's board,\nbut would carve his own Christmas turkey, at his own table. Of\nwhatever he was thinking, he did not fail to notice the house,\nand to glance upward when he came to the stoop where he--was it\nreally he, that rough, shaggy, ragged little newsboy, ignorant\nand dirty?--where he had, for the first time in his hard young\nlife, heard a voice address him kindly; and his glance changed to\na steady gaze of surprise when his eye caught a name on the\ndoor-plate that was not Brandon. He looked at the number--that\nwas all right, but the old name was gone. He was perplexed, and\nwalked absently backward and forward for several moments.\n\n\"Then Mr. Stoffs was right,\" he said, \"and he\" (meaning Mr.\nBrandon) \"has had to come down a peg or two, or he would not have\ngiven up his house at this season. I wonder where they have gone\nnow.\"\n\nHe remembered, at this moment, that none of the family had been\nat Ames & Harden's during the whole fall, and that he had not\nseen Miss Brandon since she and Mr. Irving had ridden down the\nlane for the flowers that Rose had forgotten to have ready at the\nusual hour. It so happened that, remembering the neglected\nflowers, why they had been forgotten, and how the negligence had\nbeen repaired, Dick's thoughts strayed from the graceful figure\nof the beautiful lady, who had seemed to him more magnificent and\ngentle than a vision, and turned to another figure, not tall nor\nstately--to another face, not grand nor graciously sweet.\n\nBut when he met Mr. and Mrs. Stoffs, almost the first words he\nsaid were,\n\n\"I went by the house on Fourteenth street to-day, and Mr.\nBrandon's name was off the door. I had not heard of their going\naway.\"\n\n\"It's long ago, though,\" said Mr. Stoffs.\n\n\"Is it any difficulty made them leave their old house?\" asked\nDick.\n\n\"There's been no end of difficulties,\" answered the German,\npuffing out great clouds of smoke between every sentence. \"Things\nwere bad enough last summer, and when Mrs. Brandon died--\"\n\n\"Mrs. Brandon dead!\" exclaimed Dick.\n\n\"Oh! I forgot that was after you left; it was quite an\nexcitement. The horses ran away one night--those same stylish\nbays of which she was so proud--when she and her daughter were\nreturning from some party, and she was dead before morning.\"\n\n\"And Miss Brandon?\" Dick could hardly ask, his terror of the\nanswer was so great.\n\n{668}\n\n\"Miss Brandon,\" answered Mr. Stoffs in a formal way, and puffing\nout greater clouds of smoke than ever, \"Miss Brandon was ill for\nsome days, and they were afraid would never get over the shock;\nyour fine ladies are so nervous!\"\n\n\"Miss Brandon is not that kind,\" said Dick hastily, vexed by the\ncontemptuous tone of his friend's remark. \"And I don't believe\nfine ladies are any more--more--fussy than others.\"\n\n\"I suppose you know them well enough to be a certain judge,\" said\nCarl, who seemed in a very ugly humor.\n\n\"Of course I don't know one in the world,\" answered Dick, with\nconsiderable animation and a deeper color in his face. \"But I\ncan't see the good of always running down people, just because\nthey happen to be richer than ourselves.\"\n\n\"Hush! now,\" interposed Mrs. Stoffs, as her husband was about\nanswering, \"or no dinner shall you have this day. I will not let\nyou two quarrel.\"\n\n\"You were going to tell me about Mr. Brandon's difficulties,\"\nsuggested Dick very gently, after both he and Mr. Stoffs had\nassured their peacemaker that they were never in better humor\ntoward each other. \"You were going to tell me about Mr. Brandon's\ndifficulties.\"\n\n\"Yes. His wife she died, and it was found he had used all her\nmoney and had lost it, as he had his own; there was a failure and\neverything was sold out, and so--there's an end of him.\"\n\n\"Did he leave New-York?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Who asks what has become of a one-time rich man\nafter the bubble has burst?\"\n\n\"I think I heard he wanted some situation to start life again,\"\nsaid Mrs. Stoffs. \"Poor man!\"\n\nMrs. Stoffs was right. Mr. Brandon had tried to start again; but\nhe had been a hard man in his days of prosperity, and an\nunfaithful man, or he would not be as he was now; and so, many\nwho heartily pitied him and his family for their fall, and who\nwould willingly have given them assistance out of their own\npockets, did not feel justified in giving him a position that\ncould be better filled by some man in whom they could trust. Thus\namong all his rich friends, not one of whom felt unkindly toward\nhim, there was none to push him a plank with which to save\nhimself from drowning.\n\nDick had learned all that his hosts could tell, and knowing well\nhow fearfully rapid is a man's fall when once he is over the\nprecipice of failure, his heart was heavier than it had ever been\nfor troubles of his own. He sought to sustain his part in the\nconversation, feeling that a silent guest seems selfish and\nungrateful, and tried to laugh as heartily at his friend's jokes\nas ever; but it was not without an effort, and his friends were\nkeen and saw that he was troubled.\n\n\"I do not like it,\" Carl grunted in his deepest tones, that\nChristmas night after Dick had gone and the children were asleep;\n\"I do not like it.\"\n\n\"You must not think too hardly of him,\" answered Mrs. Stoffs,\nwho, with that sort of perception women obtain when they become\nwives, knew her husband referred to Dick's troubled manner, the\nanxious way in which he had asked about Miss Brandon, and his hot\nresenting of Carl's careless words. \"You are too hard on him,\"\nsaid Mrs. Stoffs, not because she did not equally dislike it all,\nbut because there would be no conversation between them if old\nmarried folks were always to agree.\n\n{669}\n\n\"Fine ladies, indeed!\" muttered Mr. Stoffs, puffing away harder\nthan ever. \"Miss Brandon--what for should he care if Miss Brandon\nwas hurt, more than for any other lady?\"\n\n\"She is poor enough now,\" said Mrs. Stoffs musingly. \"It would\nnot be so strange now;\" and under her breath she sighed, \"Poor\nRose!\"\n\n\"Not that he has one thought of such a thing,\" Carl went on\nconsistently; \"you women always get such ideas into your heads.\"\n\nMrs. Stoffs, being an experienced wife, raised no question about\nthe ownership of the \"ideas,\" whatever they were, but sat looking\ninto the fire for a long time before she spoke again, and then it\nwas to say, \"After all, I am glad we were too poor to have Rose\ncome up for Christmas.\"\n\n\"If she would not be satisfied with what we had, so am I,\"\ngrumbled Mr. Stoffs.\n\n\"I was not thinking of that,\" answered his wife mildly.\n\n\"I know Heremore's never such a fool as to be thinking of one so\nmuch above him as Miss Brandon,\" remarked Mr. Stoffs.\n\n\"She is not above him now that they are poor,\" answered his wife.\n\n\"It isn't the money that made the difference,\" said Carl rather\nimpatiently, \"it's the habits that money gives. That's what is\nthe matter. Miss Brandon may not be half worthy of him, and yet\nhe would be mad to think of her; it is misery when people marry\nout of their rank, misery to both.\"\n\n\"But if they love each other?\" suggested his wife.\n\n\"That only makes the matter worse; he knows not her ways. She has\na language that is not his; if they did not care, they could go\ntheir own ways, and seek their own. I think Heremore is a great\nfool; I do!\"\n\n\"I don't believe he has a thought of such a thing,\" said Mrs.\nStoffs; but there was a manifest question in her voice.\n\n\"If he has, he'll rue the day he thought of it first,\" said her\nhusband emphatically; and there the conversation ended; but when\nMrs. Stoffs wrote again to Mrs. Alaine, which she did not do for\nsome time--for to write a letter was an event in the honest\nwoman's life--she thought proper to give her sister a hint of\nthat which they had observed; and Mrs. Alaine, in her turn,\nthought proper to convey the hint, in the form of information, to\nRose, who, however, answered readily,\n\n\"Love Miss Brandon? Well, mamma, and why shouldn't he?\"\n\n\"Because Miss Brandon is not in the same class of life that he\nis, dear.\"\n\n\"I am sure Mr. Heremore is better off than her father is now,\"\nurged Rose; \"for he has a regular salary, and Mr. Brandon has\nnothing left, and nobody will give him any place.\"\n\n\"No doubt, my child; but it is not money that makes the\ndifference. Miss Brandon has her ideas of life now just as she\nhad them when she was rich; and Mr. Heremore is what he is, and\nwould not be different if he were suddenly made a millionaire.\"\n\nSo Rose said no more.\n\nWhile Mr. and Mrs. Stoffs were thus disturbed about him, Dick,\nunconscious of any cause he had given for their disquietude, was\nwalking slowly and thoughtfully home. \"Where was that little Mary\nwith her fair hair and gentle smile this cold Christmas night?\"\nwas the question he kept putting to himself. It was a clear,\nbright night, with the moon shining on the pavements and the\nfrozen earth, not at all such a night as that during which he had\nslept by her father's steps, and there was no fear that her fair\nhead was shelterless; but still it was very sad to think of her,\nwhose Christmas days had been such pleasant ones, in mourning for\nher mother, and perhaps in troubles such as those which men hear,\nbut shudder to see, clouding the girlish youth that is so short,\nand should be so sunny.\n\n{670}\n\n\"With God's help I'll find them out before to-morrow night if\nthey are in this city,\" said Dick to himself, and then walked on\nmore rapidly.\n\nAnd he kept his word, though not without much trouble; and within\ntwenty-four hours he stood in front of the wretched\nboarding-house to which poverty and sickness had already reduced\nthe family that, a few months before, had never dreamed of the\nmeaning of want.\n\nBut though he had found them out and stood before their door,\nDick had done and could do nothing to lessen their trouble. Mr.\nBrandon had not seemed more unapproachable when, a rich man, he\nscowled and said hard words to the ill-dressed errand-boy--than\nhe now did to the simple clerk, though Dick himself was richer\nnow than was the once rich merchant. Miss Brandon was, in his\neyes, now no less a lady, belonging to a sphere far above him,\nthan she had been when, in all the glory of wealth, youth, and\nbeauty, he had seen her ride down to the Stoffs's cottage to buy\nflowers for her hair. It seemed to him greater presumption for\nhim to think of approaching her now than it would have been then,\nso he passed and repassed her door, grieved for her trouble, but\nmore grieved, if possible, that he, with his youth and strength,\nshould be powerless to give her one grain of comfort. How often\nand often, as he had watched her--she all unconscious of him and\nhis grateful reverence--in her days of prosperity, had he dreamed\nof her as like some damsel of olden romance in sore distress, and\nthought that never had knight rushed more joyously or more\npotently to the rescue than he would to hers. Now his dream had\ncome to pass--she was a damsel in sore distress; but where was\nhis prancing steed, his burnished armor, his ready lance? Then,\nas he smiled in remembrance of his boyish fancy, he suddenly\nthought of Mr. Irving, the gentleman--just a boy's ideal of a\ngallant knight--whom he had seen so often with Miss Brandon in\nthe country. He recollected well the manly bearing of that\n\"perfect gentleman,\" whom he and Rose had looked upon as a\nveritable Sir Launcelot; he had seen many an act of \"gentle\ncourtesy\" shown in a grave, tender way, to the fair lady by whose\nside he always rode; and where was he now that that fair lady\nneeded her knight as never before?\n\nThere was nothing morbid or bitter about Dick. When he asked\nhimself that question, it was with no thought of the common\njudgment pronounced upon \"summer friends.\" He recognized Mr.\nIrving's right to aid and comfort the family of his former host.\nHe knew that he had wealth, position, character, and, of course,\nample influence, and not for an instant doubted that he would use\nevery means in his power to befriend Mr. Brandon, if only for the\nsake of that beautiful daughter whom he so evidently admired.\nWhere, then, was Mr. Irving? If he had been here, all this could\nnot have happened. But as Dick asked himself this, it did not\noccur to him that Mary thought as he thought: if Mr. Irving had\nbeen here, all this would not have happened.\n\n{671}\n\nAt last Dick, fully convinced that he would be guilty of no\npresumption in speaking his mind to Mr. Irving on this subject,\ncheerfully turned his steps homeward, and resolved that the first\nmoment he had of his own should be spent in seeking Mr. Irving,\nand informing him of what he could not now be aware of, the\ndownfall of the Brandons. For the fall of the Brandons, as he\nheard from one or two who knew, had been very great, very rapid,\nand, it was feared, was not yet completed. Mr. Brandon had never\nheld his head up since his failure, but dragged around, shabbily\ndressed, querulous and half-sick, dejected and clearly miserable.\nHis two sons had been given very poor situations, on very\nniggardly pay, by a relative in another city, who, having always\nbeen odiously cringing to Mr. Brandon when he had money, seemed\nto delight now in heaping humiliations upon his sons. So great a\ncrime it was in his eyes to be better bred, better educated, and\nmore kindly cared for than were his own rude, blustering,\nignorant boys. If only Fred and Joe had been taught whence come\nadversity and prosperity, doubtless these humiliations would have\nbeen crowns of glory for them; but theirs had been only a vague,\ndreamy sort of faith, which they never suspected had any\napplication to their real life. I dare say they were very idle,\nuseless, self-conceited and aggravating boys; but I can't help\nfeeling sorry for them in their troubles. Miss Brandon, Dick was\ntold, had not recovered her strength since the accident, and\nhowever well she might have been, with all her accomplishments,\ncould not have done more than she was now doing: giving\nmusic-lessons to a few persons residing near her new home.\n\nBut all hope of seeing Mr. Irving faded the first thing the next\nday; for Dick's questions brought the unwelcome information that\nhe had left home in October for two years' travel in Europe, and\nDick, of course, could not presume to write to him.\n\n ----------\n\n Porter's Human Intellect. [Footnote 272]\n\n [Footnote 272: _The Human Intellect; with an Introduction\n upon Psychology and the Soul_. By Noah Porter, D.D., Clark\n Professor of Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics in Yale\n College. New-York: Scribner & Co. 1868. 8vo, pp. 673.]\n\nThis formidable volume is, unless we except Professor Hickok's\nwork on _Rational Psychology_, the most considerable attempt\nthat has been made among us to construct a philosophy of the\nhuman understanding. Professor Porter is able, patient,\nindustrious, and learned. He knows the literature of his subject,\nand has no little facility and fairness in seizing and setting\nforth the commanding points in the views and theories of others;\nbut, while he shows great familiarity with metaphysical and\npsychological questions, and some justness and delicacy as an\nanalyzer of facts, he seems to us to lack the true philosophical\ninstinct, and that synthetic grasp of thought which seizes facts\nin their principles and genetic relations, and reduces them to a\ndialectic whole, without which one cannot be a philosopher.\n\n{672}\n\nThe professor's book is a hard, book for us to read, and still\nharder for us to understand. Its mechanical aspect, with three or\nfour different sizes of type on the same page, is repulsive to\nus, and prejudices us against it. It is not absolutely dull, but\nit is rather heavy, and it requires resolution to read it. It has\nnothing attractive or enlivening, and it deals so much with\nparticulars and details that it is difficult for the reader to\ncarry what he reads along in his memory. Even when we have in our\nminds what the author actually says, it is not easy to understand\nit, or determine which of several possible meanings he adopts.\nNot that his language, though seldom exact or precise, and\ndisfigured occasionally by needless barbarisms, and a terminology\nwhich we hope is not yet in good usage, is not clear enough for\nany one accustomed to philosophical studies, nor is it that his\nsentences are involved and hard to be construed, or that his\nstatements, taken as isolated statements, are not intelligible;\nbut it is hard to determine their meaning and value from his\npoint of view, and in relation to his system as a whole. His book\nis composed of particulars, of minute and not seldom commonplace\nobservations, without any perceptible scientific reduction to the\nprinciple which generates, co-ordinates, and explains them.\n\nIt is but fair to the professor to say, in the outset, that his\nbook belongs to a class of books which we seldom read and\nheartily detest. It is not a work of philosophy, or an attempt\neven to give us a science of things in their principles and\ncauses, their progress and destiny, but merely a\n_Wissenschaftslehre_, or science of knowing. Its problem is\nnot what is or what exists; but what is knowing, how do I know,\nand how do I know that I know? With all deference to the\nFichteans, we venture to assert that there is and can be no\nscience of knowing separate from the science of things, distinct\nfrom and independent of the subject knowing. We know, says all\nthat, we know that we know, says. He who knows, knows that he\nknows; and if one were to doubt that knowing is knowing, we must\nlet him doubt, for we have only knowing with which to prove that\nknowing is knowing.\n\nWe can by no possible anatomical dissection of the eye, or\nphysiological description of its functions, explain the secret of\nexternal vision. We are told that we see not external objects\nthemselves, but their pictures painted by the light on the\nretina, and it is only by them that we apprehend visible objects.\nBut suppose it so, it brings us no nearer to the secret of\nvision. How do we see the picture? How by means of the picture\napprehend the external object? Yet the man who sees knows he\nsees, and all that can be said is, that to elicit the visual act\nthere must be the visible subject, the visible object, and the\nlight which mediates between them and illuminates them both. So\nis it with intellectual vision. We may ascertain some of the\nconditions under which we know, but the knowing itself is to us\nan inexplicable mystery. No dissection or possible inspection of\nthe soul can explain it, or throw the least light on it. All that\ncan be said is, that to the fact of knowledge, whatever its\ndegree or its region, there must be the intellective subject, the\nintelligible object, and the intellectual light which places them\nin mutual relation and illumines alike both subject and object.\nHaving said this, we have said all that can be said. Hence works\nintended to construct the science of science, or knowledge, are\nnot only useless, but worse than useless; for, dealing with\nabstractions which have no existence in nature, and treating them\nas if real, they mislead and perplex the student, and render\nobscure and doubtful what without them is clear and certain.\n\n{673}\n\nProfessor Porter is a psychologist, and places all the activity\nin the fact of knowledge on the side of the soul, even in the\nintuition of principles, without which the soul can neither\nexist, nor think, nor feel. His purpose in his Introduction is to\nestablish the unity and immateriality--spirituality, he says, of\nthe soul against the materialists--and to vindicate psychology\nnot only as a science, but as an inductive science. With regard\nto the unity and immateriality of the soul, we hold with the\nprofessor, though they are not provable or demonstrable by his\nmethod; and we recognize great truth and force in his criticisms\non materialism, of which we have to deplore in the scientific\nworld, and even in popular literature, the recrudescence. That\npsychology is, in a secondary sense, a science, we do not deny;\nbut we do deny that it is either \"the _prima philosophia_\"\nas the professor asserts, or an inductive science, as he\nendeavors to prove.\n\nAll the inductive sciences are secondary sciences, and presuppose\na first science, which is strictly the science of the sciences.\nInduction, the professor himself maintains, has need of certain\nfirst principles, or _a priori_ assumptions, which precede\nand validate it. How can psychology be the _prima\nphilosophia_, or first philosophy, when it can be constructed\nonly by borrowing its principles from a higher or prior science?\nOr how can it be the first philosophy, when that would suppose\nthat the principles which the inductive sciences demand to\nvalidate the inductive process are contained in and derived from\nthe soul? Is the professor prepared to maintain that the soul is\nthe first principle of all the sciences? That would imply that\nshe is the first principle of things, of reality itself; for\nscience is of the real, not of the unreal. But this were pure\nFichteism, and would put the soul in the place of God. The\nprofessor would shrink from this. He, then, must have made the\nassertion that psychology is the _prima philosophia_\nsomewhat hastily, and without due reflection; unless indeed he\ndistinguishes between the first principles of science and the\nfirst principles of things.\n\nThe inductive sciences are constructed by induction from the\nobservation and analysis of facts which the soul has the\nappropriate organs for observing. But psychology is the science\nof the soul, its nature, powers or faculties, and operations; and\nif an inductive science, it must be constructed by induction from\npsychical facts observed and analyzed in the soul by the soul\nherself. The theory is very simple. The soul, by the external\nsenses, observes and analyzes the facts of the external world,\nand constructs by induction the physical sciences; by her\ninternal sense, called consciousness, she observes and analyzes\nthe world within herself, and by way of induction from the facts\nor phenomena she observes, constructs psychology, or the science\nof herself. Unhappily for the psychologue, things do not go so\nsimply. To this theory there are two grave objections: First, the\nsoul has no internal sense by which she can observe herself, her\nacts or states in herself; and second, there are no purely\npsychical facts to be observed.\n\n{674}\n\nThe professor finds the soul's faculty of observing the facts of\nthe internal world in consciousness, which he defines to be \"the\npower by which the soul knows its own acts and states.\" But\nconsciousness is not a power or faculty, but an act of knowing,\nand is simply the recognition of the soul by the soul herself as\nthe subject acting. We perceive always, and all that is before us\nwithin the range of our percipient powers; but we do not always\ndistinguish and note each object perceived, or recognize the fact\nthat it is we who are the subject perceiving. The fact of\nconsciousness is precisely in the simple perception being so\nintensified and prolonged that the soul not only apprehends the\nobject, but recognizes itself as the subject apprehending it. It\nis not, as the professor maintains at great length in Part I., a\npresentative power; for it is always a reflex act, and demands\nsomething of memory. But the recognition by the soul in her acts\nas the subject acting is something very different from the soul\nobserving and analyzing in herself her own powers and faculties.\n\nThe soul never knows herself in herself; she only recognizes\nherself under the relation of subject in her acts. Recognizing\nherself only as subject, she can never cognize herself as object,\nand stand, as it were, face to face with herself. She is never\nher own object in the act of knowing; for she is all on the side\nof the subject. She cannot be on one side subject, and on the\nother object. Only God can be his own object; and his\ncontemplating of himself as object, theologians show us, is the\nEternal Generation of the Son, or the Word. Man, St. Thomas tells\nus, is not intelligible in himself; for he is not\n_intelligens_ in himself. If the soul could know herself in\nherself, she could be her own object; if her own object, she\nwould suffice for herself; then she would be real, necessary,\nself-existent, independent being; that is to say, the soul would\nbe God.\n\nWe deny not that the soul can know herself as manifested in her\nacts, but that she can know herself in herself, and be the object\nof her own thought. I can not look into my own eyes, yet I can\nsee my face as reflected in the glass. So the soul knows herself,\nand her powers and faculties; but only as reflected from, or\nmirrored in, the objects in conjunction with which she acts.\nHence the powers and faculties are not learned by any observation\nof the soul herself, but from the object. The soul is a unit, and\nacts always as a unit; but, though acting always in her unity,\nshe can act in different directions, and in relation to different\nobjects, and it is in this fact that originates the distinction\nof powers and faculties. The distinction is not in the soul\nherself, for she is a unit, but in the object, and hence the\nschoolmen teach us that it is the object that determines the\nfaculty.\n\nIt is not the soul in herself that we must study in order to\nascertain the faculties, but the soul in her operations, or the\nobjects in relation with which she acts. We know the soul has the\npower to know, by knowing, to will, by willing, to feel, by\nfeeling. While, then, the soul has power to know herself so far\nas mirrored by the objects, she has no power to observe and\nanalyze herself in herself, and therefore no power of direct\nobservation and analysis of the facts from which psychology, as\nan inductive science, must be constructed.\n\nBut there are no such facts as is assumed to be observed and\nanalyzed. The author speaks of objects which are purely\npsychical, which have no existence out of the soul herself; but\nthere are and can be no facts, or acts, produced by the soul's\nown energy alone. The soul, for the best of all possible reasons,\nnever acts alone, for she does not exist alone.\n{675}\n\"Thought,\" says Cousin, \"is a fact that is composed of three\nsimultaneous and indissoluble elements, the subject, the object,\nand the form. The subject is always the soul, [_le Moi_,]\nthe object is something not the soul, [_le non-Moi_,] and\nthe form is always the relation of the two.\" The object is\ninseparable from the subject as an element of the thought, but it\nexists distinct from and independent of the soul, and when it is\nnot thought as well as when it is; otherwise it could not be\nobject, since the soul is all on the side of the subject. The\nsoul acts only in conjunction with the object, because she is not\nsufficient for herself, and therefore cannot suffice for her own\nactivity. The object, if passive, is as if it were not, and can\nafford no aid to the fact of thought. It must, therefore, be\nactive, and then the thought will be the joint product of the two\nactivities. It is a grave mistake, then, to suppose that the\nactivity in thought is all on the side of the soul. The soul\ncannot think without the concurrent activity of that which is not\nthe soul. There is no product possible in any order without two\nfactors placed in relation with each other. God, from the\nplenitude of his being, contains both factors in his own essence;\nbut in creatures they are distinct from and independent of each\nother.\n\nWe do not forget the _intellectus agens_ of St. Thomas, but\nit is not quite certain what he meant by it. The holy doctor does\nnot assert it as a faculty of the soul, and represent its\nactivity as purely psychical. Or if it be insisted that he does,\nhe at least nowhere asserts, implies, or intimates that it is\nactive without the concurrence of the object: for he even goes so\nfar as to maintain that the lower acts only as put in motion by\nthe higher, and the terrestrial by the celestial. Hence the\n_praemotio physica_ of the Thomists, and the necessity in\nconversion of praevenient grace--_gratia praeveniens_.\n\nBut even granting that there is the class of facts alleged, and\nthat we have the power to observe and analyze them, as, in the\nlanguage of Cousin, \"they pass over the field of consciousness,\"\nwe cannot by induction attain to their principle and causes; for\ninduction itself, without the first principles of all science,\nnot supplied by it, can give us only a classification,\ngeneralization, an hypothesis, or an abstract theory, void of all\nreality. The universal cannot be concluded, by way of induction,\nfrom particulars, any more than particulars can be concluded, by\nway of deduction, from the universal. Till validated in the\n_prima philosophia_, or referred to the first principles,\nwithout which the soul can neither act nor exist, the\nclassifications and generalizations attained to by induction are\nonly facts, only particulars, from which no general conclusion\ncan be drawn. Science is knowledge indeed; but the term is\ngenerally used in English to express the reduction of facts and\nparticulars to their principles and causes. But in all the\nsecondary sciences the principles and causes are themselves only\nfacts, till carried up to the first principles and causes of all\nthe real and all the knowable. Not without reason, then, has\ntheology been called the queen of the sciences, nor without\nwarrant that men, who do not hold that all change is progress,\nmaintain that the displacement, in modern times, of this queen\nfrom her throne has had a deleterious effect on science, and\ntended to dissipate and enfeeble the human mind itself.\n{676}\nWe have no philosophers nowadays of the nerve of Plato and\nAristotle, the great Christian fathers, or the mediaeval doctors,\nnone of whom ever dreamed of separating theology and philosophy.\nEven the men of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries had a\ngrasp of thought, a robust vigor of mind, and a philosophic\ninsight into the truth of things and their higher relations that\nyou look in vain for in the philosophers of the eighteenth\ncentury and of our own. But this by the way. When things are at\nthe worst, they sometimes mend.\n\nPsychology, not psychologism, is a science, though not an\ninductive science, nor a science that can be attained to by the\nstudy of the soul and her phenomena in the bosom of\nconsciousness. The psychologists--those, we mean, who adopt the\npsychological method, a method seldom adopted before the famous\n_cogito, ergo sum_ of Descartes--seem incapable of\ncomprehending that only the real is cognizable, and that\nabstractions are not real but unreal; and therefore that the\nfirst principles of science must be real, not abstract, and the\nfirst principles of things. Thus Professor Porter appears to see\nno real connection between them. True, he says, (p. 64,)\n\"Knowledge and being are correlatives. There must be being in\norder that there may be knowledge. There can be no knowledge\nwhich is not the knowledge of being. Subjectively viewed, to know\nimplies certainty; objectively, it requires reality. An act of\nknowing in which there is no certainty in the agent, and no\nreality in the object, is impossible in conception and in fact.\"\nThis would seem to assert that only being can be known, or that\nwhatever is known is real being, which is going too far and\nfalling into ontologism. Only being is intelligible _per\nse_; but existences which are from being and participate of\nbeing, though not intelligible in or by themselves, since they do\nnot exist in and by themselves, may yet be really known by the\nlight of being which creates them. We know _by_ being, as\nwell as being itself.\n\nBut be not alarmed. The professor's being, the only object of\nknowledge, his reality without which there is no cognizable\nobject, is nothing very formidable; for he tells us, in smaller\ntype, on the same page, that \"we must distinguish different kinds\nof objects and different kinds of reality. They may be _formed\nby the mind, and exist_ [only] _for the mind that forms\nthem_, or they may exist in fact and space for all minds, and\nyet in each case they are equally objects. Their reality may be\nmental and internal, or material and external, but in each case\nit is equally a reality. The thought that darts into the fancy\nand is gone as soon, the illusion that crosses the brain of the\nlunatic, the vision that frightens the ghost-seer, the spectrum\nwhich the camera paints on the screen, the reddened landscape\nseen through a colored lens, the yellow objects which the\njaundiced eye cannot avoid beholding, _each as really\nexists_ as does the matter of the solid earth, or the eternal\nforces of the cosmical system.\" The \"eternal forces\" of the\ncosmical system can be only God, who only is eternal. So the\nillusions of fancy, the hallucinations of the lunatic, and the\neternal, self-existent, necessary being whom we call God, and who\nnames himself I AM THAT AM, SUM QUI SUM, are alike being, and\nequally real!\n\nThe learned author tells us elsewhere that we call by the name\nbeing beings of very different kinds and sorts, owing to the\npoverty of our language, which supplies but one name for them. He\nwill permit us to say that we suspect the poverty is not in the\nlanguage.\n{677}\nWe have in the language two words which serve us to mark the\nprecise difference between that which is in, from, and by itself\nalone, and that which exists in, from, and by being. The first is\n_being_, the other is _existence_. Being is properly\napplied only to God, who is, not Supreme Being, as is often said,\nbut the one only being, the only one that can say, I AM THAT AM,\nor QUI EST; and it shows how strictly language represents the\nreal order that in no tongue can we make an assertion without the\nverb TO BE, that is, only by being, that is, again, only by God\nhimself. Existence explains itself. Existences are not being,\nbut, as the _ex_ implies, are _from_ being, that is,\nfrom him in whom is their being, as Saint Paul says, \"For in him\nwe live, and move, and are,\" \"_vivimus, et movemur, et\nsumus_.\" Reality includes being and all that is from and by\nbeing, or simply being and existences. Nothing else is real or\nconceivable; for, apart from God and what he creates, or besides\nGod and his creatures, there is nothing, and nothing is nothing,\nand nothing is not intelligible or cognizable.\n\nDr. Porter understands by reality or being only what is an object\nof knowledge, or of the mind in knowing, though it may have no\nexistence out of the mind, or, as say the schoolmen, _a parte\nrei_. Hence, though the soul is certain that the object exists\nrelatively to her act of knowing, she is not certain that it is\nsomething existing in nature. How, then, prove that there is\nanything to correspond to the mental object, idea, or conception?\nIn his Second Part, which treats of the representative power, he\ntells us that the objects represented and cognized in the\nrepresentation are purely psychical, and exist only in the soul\nand for the soul alone. These, then, do not exist in nature; they\nare, in the ordinary use of the term, unreal, illusory, and\nchimerical, as the author himself confesses. If the object of\nknowledge can be in any instance unreal, chimerical, illusory, or\nwith no existence except in and for the soul itself, why may it\nnot be so in every instance, and all our knowledge be an\nillusion? How prove that in any fact of knowledge there is\ncognition of an object that exists distinct from and independent\nof the subject? Here is the _pons asinorum_ of exclusive\npsychologists. There is no crossing the bridge from the\nsubjective to the objective, for there is no bridge there, and\nsubject and object must both be given simultaneously in one and\nthe same act, or neither is given.\n\nDr. Porter, indeed, gives the subjective and what he calls the\nobjective, together, in one and the same thought; but he leaves\nthe way open for the question, whether the object does or does\nnot exist distinct from and independent of the subject. This is\nthe difficulty one has with Locke's _Essay on the\nUnderstanding_. Locke makes ideas the immediate object of the\ncognitive act; for he defines them to be \"that with which the\nmind is immediately conversant.\" If the soul can elicit the\ncognitive act with these ideas, which it is not pretended are\nthings, how prove that there is any real world beyond them? It\nhas never been done, and never can be done; for we have only the\nsoul, for whose activity the _idea_ or concept suffices,\nwith which to do it, and hence the importance to psychologists of\nthe question, How do we know that we know? and which they can\nanswer only by a paralogism, or assuming the reality of knowledge\nwith which to prove knowledge real.\n\nFor the philosopher there is no such question, and nothing\ndetracts so much from the philosophical genius of the illustrious\nBalmes as his assertion that all philosophy turns on the question\nof certainty.\n{678}\nThe philosopher, holding that to know is to know, has, after\nknowing, or having thought the object, no question of certainty\nto ask or to answer. The certainty that the object exists in\nnature is in the fact that the soul thinks it. The object is\nalways a force or activity distinct from and independent of the\nsubject, and since it is an activity it must be either real being\nor real existence.\n\nThe error of the author, as of all psychologers, is not in\nassuming that the soul cannot think without the concurrence of\nthe object, or that the object is not really object in relation\nto the soul's cognitive power, but in supposing that the soul can\nfind the object in that which has no real existence. He assumes\nthat abstractions or mental conceptions, which have no real\nexistence aside from the concrete or reality from which the mind\nforms them, may be real objects of the soul in the fact of\nknowledge. But no abstractions or conceptions exist _a parte\nrei_. There are white things and round things, but no such\nexistence as whiteness or roundness. These and other abstractions\nare formed by the mind operating on the concretes, and taking\nthem under one aspect, or generalizing a quality they have in\ncommon with all concretes of their class, and paying no heed to\nanything else in the concrete object. But these abstractions or\ngeneral conceptions are cognizable and apprehended by the mind\nonly in the apprehension of their concretes, white or round\nthings. They are, as abstracted from white things or round\nthings, no more objects of thought or of thought-knowledge than\nof sensible perception. We speak of abstractions which are simply\nnullities, not of genera and species, or universals proper, which\nare not abstractions but real; yet even these do not exist apart\nfrom the individual. They and their individuals subsist always\ntogether in a synthetic relation, and though distinguishable are\nnever separable. The species is not a mere name, a mere mental\nconception or generalization; it is real, but exists and is known\nonly as individualized.\n\nThe unreal is unintelligible, and, like all negation, is\nintelligible only in the reality denied. The soul, then, can\nthink or know only the real, only real being, or real existences\nby the light of real being. If the soul can know only the real,\nshe can know things only in their real order, and consequently\nthe order of the real and of the knowable is the same, and the\nprinciples of the real are the principles of science. The soul is\nan intelligent existence, and the principles, causes, and\nconditions of her existence are the principles, causes, and\nconditions of her intelligence, and therefore of her actual\nknowledge. We have, then, only to ascertain the principles of the\nreal to determine the principles of science. The principles of\nthe real are given us in the first verse of Genesis: \"In the\nbeginning God created heaven and earth,\" and in the first article\nof the Creed, \"I believe in one God, maker of heaven and earth,\nand all things visible and invisible.\" Or, as stated in strictly\nscientific terms, as affirmed in intuition, Being creates\nexistences. The real and necessary being given in the scientific\nformula or intuition is indeed God; but this is not intuitively\nknown, and can be known only discursively or by contemplation and\nreflection. We must not, then, in stating the first principles of\nthe real, and of knowledge as given in intuition, use the term\nGod, but being. We know by intuition being, but do not by\nintuition know that being is God. Hence the mistake of those who\nsay we have intuition of God, or know by intuition that God is.\n{679}\nWe have intuition of that which is God, but not that what is\ngiven is God. Ontology is a most essential part of philosophy;\nbut exclusive ontologists are as much sophists as are exclusive\npsychologists.\n\nThe first principles of reality are being, existence, and the\ncreative act of being, whence the ideal formula or judgment,\nBeing creates existences. This is the _primum_ in the real\norder. All that is real and not necessary and self-sufficing\nbeing must be from being; for without real uncreated being there\ncan be nothing, and existences are something only in so far as\nthey participate of being. Things can exist from being, or hold\nfrom it, only by virtue of its creative act, which produces them\nby its own energy from nothing, and sustains them as existent.\nThere is only the creative act by which existences can proceed\nfrom being. Emanation, generation, evolution, which have been\nasserted as the mode of procession of existences, give nothing\nreally or substantially distinguishable from being. Existences,\nthen, can really proceed from being only by the creative act,\nand, indeed, only by the free creative act of being; for\nnecessary creation is no creation at all, and can be only a\ndevelopment or evolution of being itself. In theological\nlanguage, then, God and creation include all the real; what is\nnot God is creature or existence, and what is not creature or\nexistence is God. There is no reality which is neither God nor\ncreature, no _tertium quid_ between being and existence, or\nbetween existence and nothing. The _primum_ of the real is,\nthen, the ideal formula or divine judgment, _Ens creat\nexistentias_, for it affirms in their principle and their real\nrelation all that is and all that exists. This formula is a\nproper judgment, for it has all the terms and relations of a\njudgment, subject, predicate, and copula. Being is the subject,\nexistences is the predicate, and the creative act the copula,\nwhich at once unites the predicate to the subject and\ndistinguishes it from it. It is divine, because it is _a\npriori_, the _primum_ of the real; and as only the real\nis intelligible or knowable, it must precede as its principle,\ntype, and condition, every judgment that can be formed by an\nexistence or creature, and therefore can be only the judgment of\nGod affirming his own being and creating the universe and all\nthings, visible and invisible, therein.\n\nNow, as the soul can only know the real, this divine judgment\nmust be not only the _primum_ of the real, but of the\nknowable; and since the soul can know only as she exists, in the\nreal relations in which she stands, and knows only by the aid of\nthe object on which she depends for her existence and activity,\nit follows that this judgment is the _primum scientificum_,\nor the principle of all real or possible science.\n\nIs it asked, How is this known or proved, if not by psychological\nobservation and analysis? The answer is, by the analysis of\nthought, which discloses the divine judgment as its idea, or\nnecessary and apodictic element. This is not psychologism nor the\nadoption of the psychological method. Psychologism starts from\nthe assumption that thought, as to the activity that produces it,\nwhatever may or may not be its object, is purely psychical, and\nthat the ontological, if obtainable at all, is so by an induction\nfrom psychological facts. The first assumption is disproved by\nthe fact just shown, that thought is not produced or producible\nby the psychical activity alone, but by the joint action of the\ntwo factors subject and object, in which both are affirmed.\n{680}\nThe other assumption is disposed of by the fact that what is\nfound in the analysis of thought is not particular facts or\nphenomena from which the first principles are concluded by way of\ninduction, which could give us only a generalization or\nabstraction, but the first principles themselves intuitively\ngiven.\n\nPhilosophers generally assert that certain conditions precedent,\nor certain ideas _a priori_, are necessary to every fact of\nexperience or actual cognition. Kant, in his masterly _Critik\nder reinen Vernunft_, calls them sometimes cognitions,\nsometimes synthetic judgments, _a priori_, but fails to\nidentify them with the divine judgment, and holds them to be\nnecessary forms of the subject. Cousin asserts them and calls\nthem necessary and absolute ideas, but fails to identify them\nwith the real, and even denies that they can be so identified.\nReid recognized them, and called them the first principles of\nhuman belief, sometimes the principles of common sense, after\nFather Bouffier, which all our actual knowledge presupposes and\nmust take for granted. Professor Porter also recognizes them,\nholds them to be intuitively given, calls them certain necessary\nassumptions, first truths or principles without which no science\nis possible, but fails to identify them with the divine judgment,\nand seems to regard them as abstract principles or ideas, as if\nabstractions could subsist without their concretes, or principles\never be abstract. We deny that they are abstract ideas, necessary\nassumptions, or necessary forms of the understanding or cognitive\nfaculty, and hold them to be the principles of things, alike of\nthe real and the knowable, without which no fact exists and no\nact of knowledge is possible. They cannot be created by the mind,\nnor formed by the mind operating on the concrete objects of\nexistence, nor in any manner obtained by our own mental activity;\nfor without them there is no mind, no mental activity, no\nexperience. Dr. Porter, after Reid, Kant, Cousin, and others, has\nclearly seen this, and conclusively proved it--no philosopher\nmore conclusively--and it is one of the merits of his book. He\ntherefore justly calls them intuitions, or principles intuitively\ngiven; yet either we do not understand him, or he regards them as\nabstract truths or abstract principles. But truths and principles\nare never abstract, and only the concrete or real can be\nintuitively given. Those intuitions, then, must be either real\nbeing or contingent existences; not the latter, for they all bear\nthe marks of necessity and universality; then they must be the\nreal and necessary being, and therefore the principles of things,\nand not simply principles of science. Dr. Porter makes them real\nprinciples in relation to the mental act; but we do not find that\nhe identifies them with the principles of the real. He doubtless\nholds that they represent independent truths, and truths which\nare the principles of things; but that he holds them, as present\nto the mind, to be the principles themselves, we do not find.\n\nDr. Porter's error in his Part IV., in which he discusses and\ndefines intuitions, and which must be interpreted by the\nforegoing parts of his work, appears to us to be precisely in his\ntaking principle to mean the starting-point of the soul in the\nfact of knowledge, and distinguishing it from the principle of\nthe real order. He distinguishes between the object _in\nmente_ and the object _in re_, and holds that the former\nis by no means identical with the latter. He thus supposes a\ndifference between the scientific order and the real, and\ntherefore that the principle of the one is not necessarily the\nprinciple of the other.\n{681}\nThis is to leave the question still open, whether there is any\nreal order to respond to the scientific order, and to cast a\ndoubt on the objective validity of all our knowledge. The divine\njudgment, or ideal formula, we have shown, is alike the _primum\nraale_ and the _primum scientificum_, and therefore\nasserts that the principles of the two orders are identical, and\nthat the scientific must follow the real, for only the real is\nknowable. Hence science is and must be objectively certain.\n\nThe intuitive affirmation of the formula, being creates\nexistences, creates, places the soul, and constitutes her\nintelligent existence. The author rightly says every thought is a\njudgment. There is no judgment without the copula, and the only\nreal copula is the copula of the divine judgment or intuition,\nthat is, the creative act of being. Being creating the soul is\nthe principle of her existence; and as we have shown that she can\nact only as she exists, the principle of her existence is the\nprinciple of her acts, and therefore of her knowing, or the fact\nof knowledge. There is, then, no thought or judgment without the\ncreative act for its copula. The two orders, then, are united and\nmade identical in principle by the creative act of being. The\ncreative act unites the acts of the soul, as the soul itself, to\nbeing.\n\nThe difficulty some minds feel in accepting this conclusion grows\nout of a misapprehension of the creative act, which they look\nupon as a past instead of a present act. The author holds that\nwhat is past has ceased to exist, and that the objects we recall\nin memory are \"created a second time.\" He evidently misapprehends\nthe real character of space and time. These are not existences,\nentities, as say the scholastics, but simple relations, with no\nexistence, no reality, apart from the _relata_, or the\nrelated. Things do not exist in space and time; for space and\ntime simply mark their relation to one another of coexistence and\nsuccession. Past and future are relations that subsist in or\namong creatures, and have their origin in the fact that creatures\nas second causes and in relation to their own acts are\nprogressive. On the side of God, there is no past, no future; for\nhis act has no progression, and is never in _potentia ad\nactum_. It is a complete act, and in it all creatures are\ncompleted, consummated, in their beginning, and hence the past\nand the future are as really existent as what we call the\npresent. The Creator is not a _causa transiens_, that\ncreates the effect and leaves it standing alone, but a _causa\nmanens_, ever present in the effect and creating it.\n\nCreation is not in space and time, but originates the relations\nso-called. The creative act, therefore, can never be a past or a\nfuture act, an act that has produced or that will produce the\neffect, but an act that produces it always here and now. The act\nof conservation, as theologians teach, is identically the act of\ncreation. God preserves or upholds us in existence by creating us\nat each instant of our lives. The universe, with all it contains,\nis a present creation. In relation to our acts as our acts or our\nprogressiveness toward our final cause or last end, the universe\n_was_ created and will remain as long as the Creator wills;\nbut in relation to God it is created here and now, and as newly\ncreated at this moment as when the sons of the morning sang\ntogether over its production, by the divine energy alone, from\nnothing; and the song ceases not; they are now singing it.\n{682}\nThere is nothing but this present creative act that stands\nbetween existences and nothing. The continuity of our existence\nis in the fact that God creates and does not cease to create us.\n\nWe have only to eliminate from our minds the conceptions that\ntransport the relations of space and time to the Creator, or\nrepresent them as relations between Creator and creature, where\nthe only relation is that of cause and effect, and to regard the\ncreative act as having no relations of space and time, to be able\nto understand how the divine judgment, intuitively affirmed, is\nat once the principle of the real and of the scientific, and the\ncreative act, the copula of being and existence, is the copula of\nevery judgment or thought, as is proved by the fact already\nnoted, that in no language can an assertion be made without the\nverb _to be_, that is, without God.\n\nDr. Porter, engaged in constructing not the science of things,\nbut a science of knowing--a _Wissenschaftslehre_--has\napparently been content with the intuitions as principles or laws\nof science, without seeking to identify them with the real. He is\na doctor of divinity, and cannot intend to deny, with Sir William\nHamilton and the Positivists, that ontology can be any part of\nhuman science. The Positivists, with whom, in this respect, Sir\nWilliam Hamilton, who has finished the Scottish school, fully\nagrees, assert that the whole field of science is restricted to\npositive facts and the induction of their laws, and that their\nprinciples and causes, the ontological truths, if such there be,\nbelong to the unknowable, thus reducing, with Sir William\nHamilton, science to nescience. But though Dr. Porter probably\nholds that there is an ontological reality, and knows perfectly\nwell that it cannot be concluded from psychical phenomena, either\nby way of induction or of deduction, he yet seems unable or\nunwilling to say that the mind has in intuition direct and\nimmediate apprehension of it. The first and necessary truths, or\nthe necessary assumptions, as he calls them, which the mind is\ncompelled to make in knowing particulars, such as \"what is, is,\"\n\"the same thing cannot both be and not be at the same time,\"\n\"whatever begins to exist must have a cause,\" etc., are, in his\ndoctrine, abstract ideas, which, though they may represent a\nreality beyond themselves--and he tries to prove that they\ndo--are yet not that reality itself. These ideas he states,\nindeed, in an abstract form, in which they are not real; but they\nare all identified in the ideal formula, or divine judgment,\nwhich is not an abstract but a real, concrete judgment. He holds\nthem to be intuitions, indeed; but intuition, in his view, simply\nstands opposed to discursion, and he makes it an act of the soul\nimmediately affirming the object, not the act of the object\nimmediately affirming itself by its own creative act. Till being,\nin its creative act, affirms itself, the soul does not exist; and\nthe intuitive act is that which creates it, and creates it\nintelligent. The intuition cannot, then, be the act of the soul,\nunless you suppose the soul can act without existing, or know\nwithout intelligence. If we make intuition the act of the soul,\nand suppose the necessary truths intuitively given are\nabstractions or representative ideas, how can we know that there\nis any reality represented by them? The old question again: How\npass from the subjective to the objective?--from the scientific\nto the real?\n\n{683}\n\nThe doctrine of representative ideas comes from the scholastics,\nand most probably from the misapprehension of their philosophy.\nPlato maintained that we know by similitude, which similitude he\ncalled _idea_. No doubt, Plato often means by _idea_\nsomething else; but this is one of the senses in which he uses\nthe term. This idea, with the peripatetics, becomes in sensibles\nthe phantasm, in intelligibles the intelligible _species_.\nThe intelligible _species_ was assumed as something\nmediating between the soul and the intelligible object. But\nthough they asserted it as a medium, they never made it the\nobject cognized. In their language, it was the objectum\n_quo_, not the objectum _quod_; and St. Thomas teaches\nexpressly that the mind does not terminate in the _species_,\nbut attains the intelligible object itself. In this magazine for\nMay, 1867, in an article entitled \"An Old Quarrel,\" we showed\nthat what the scholastics probably had in mind when they spoke of\nthe intelligible _species_, is adequately expressed by what\nwe, after the analogy of external vision, call the light, which\nilluminates at once the subject and object, and renders the one\ncognitive and the other cognizable. This light is not furnished\nby the mind, but by being itself light, and the source of all\nlight, present in every fact of knowledge in the creative act.\n\nThe Scottish school has made away with the phantasms, and proved\nthat, in what our author calls sense-perception, we perceive not\na phantasm, but the real external object itself; but in the\nintelligible or supersensible world, this direct apprehension of\nthe object Dr. Porter appears not to admit. He consciously or\nunconsciously interposes a _mundus logicus_ between the mind\nand the _mundus physicus_. The categories are with him\nabstract relations, and logic is a mere formal science. This is\nevident from Part III., in which he treats of what he calls\n\"thought-knowledge.\" But the categories are not abstract forms of\nthought, but real relations of things; logic is founded in the\nprinciple and constitution of things, not simply in the\nconstitution and laws of the human mind. Its type and origin are\nin being itself, in the Most Holy Trinity. The creative act is\nthe copula of every strictly logical judgment. The Creator is\nlogic, the [Greek text], or, as Plato would say, logic in itself,\nand therefore all the works of God are strictly logical, and\nform, _mediante_ his creative act, a dialectic whole with\nhimself. Whatever does not conform to the truth and order of\nthings is illogical, a sophism; and every sophism sins against\nthe essence of God, as well as against the constitution of the\nhuman mind. Psychologism is a huge sophism; for it assumes that\nthe soul is being, and can exist and act independently when it is\nonly a created, dependent existence; that it is God, when it is\nonly man. Satan was the first psychologist we read of. Ontologism\nis also a sophism of very much the same sort. Psychologism\nasserts that man is God; ontologism asserts that God is man. This\nis all the difference between them, and they terminate at the\nsame point. Existences cannot be logically deduced from being,\nbecause being, sufficing for itself, cannot be constrained to\ncreate either by extrinsic or by intrinsic necessity. Existences\nare not necessarily involved in the very conception of being, but\nare contingent, and dependent on the free-will of the Creator.\nGod cannot be concluded by induction from psychological facts;\nfor the universal cannot be concluded from the particular, nor\nthe necessary from the contingent.\n\n{684}\n\nBoth the ontological _primum_ and the psychological must be\ngiven intuitively and in their real synthesis, or no science of\neither is possible. The mind must take its starting-point and\nprinciple of science from neither separately, but from the real\nsynthesis of the two, as in the ideal formula. The attempt to\nconstruct an exclusively ontological or an exclusively\npsychological science is as absurd and as sophistical as the\nattempt to express a judgment without the copula, or to construct\na syllogism without the middle term. The real copula of the\njudgment, the real _medius terminus_ that unites the two\nextremes of the syllogism, is the creative act of being.\n\nAll Gentile philosophy failed, because it failed to recognize the\ncreative act. Outside of Judaism, the tradition of creation was\nlost in the ancient world. In vain will you seek a recognition of\nit in Plato or Aristotle, or in any of the old Gentile\nphilosophers. In its place you find only emanation, generation,\nor formation. The error of the Gentiles reappears in our modern\nphilosophers, who--since Descartes detached philosophy from\ntheology, of which it is simply the rational element--are\nendeavoring to construct science and the sciences without the\ncreative act, and if they escape pantheism or atheism, it is by\nthe strength of their faith in revelation, not by the force of\ntheir logic. Dr. Porter really attempts to construct the\nphilosophy of the human intellect, unconsciously certainly, on\npurely atheistic or nihilistic principles; that is, without any\nprinciples at all. He, of course, believes in God, believes that\nGod made the world; but most likely he believes he made it as the\nwatch-maker makes a watch, so that when wound up and started it\nwill go of itself--till it runs down. This is a very wide-spread\nerror, and an error that originates with so-called philosophers,\nnot with the people. Hence we find scientific men in large\nnumbers who look upon the world God has made as a huge machine;\nand now that it is made, as independent of him, capable of going\nahead on its own hook, and even able to bind him by its laws, and\ndeprive him of his freedom of action, as if it were or could be\nanything but what he at each moment makes it. He ought, as a\ndoctor of divinity, to understand that there can be no science\nwithout the efficacious presence of God, who created the soul,\nand none without his presence creating it now, and by his light\nrendering it intelligent. To construct science without God in his\ncreative act as the principle, is to begin in sophism and end in\nnihilism.\n\nWe need hardly say that, in asserting the divine judgment or\nideal formula as the principle of all science, and as the\nnecessary and apodictic element of every fact of knowledge, we do\nnot pretend that the mind is able in the first moment of\nintellectual life to say to itself, or to others, God creates\nexistences. This is the real formula which expresses in principle\nthe entire real order, but it is the formula to which the\nprinciples given in intuition are reduced by reflection. There\nare a large number of minds, and among them our illustrious Yale\nProfessor of Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics, who do not\nrecognize the identity of being with God, or are aware that the\nintuition is of that which is God. A still larger number do not\ndistinguish the so-called necessary ideas from the contingent\nobjects of experience cognizable only by them, and very few, even\namong professors of philosophy, ever identify these ideas--the\nnecessary, the universal, the eternal, and the immutable--with\nreal being, or reflect that they cannot subsist as abstractions,\nand that the universal, the eternal, the immutable, the\nnecessary, of which we have intuition in all our mental acts, is\nand must be real, necessary, universal, eternal, and immutable\nbeing, that is to say, God himself.\n{685}\nFew reflect far enough to perceive that in intuition the object\nis real being; and the number of men who distinctly recognize all\nthe terms of the formula in their real relation is a very small\nminority, and every day growing smaller.\n\nBut the intuition is not, as Dr. Porter supposes, of ideas which\nlie latent or dormant in the mind till occasion wakes them up and\ncalls them into action; but they are the first principles, or\nrather the principles from which the mind proceeds in all its\nintellectual acts. They are intuitively affirmed to the mind in\nthe creative act, and are ever present and operative; but we\nbecome aware of them, distinguish them, and what they imply or\nconnote, only by reflection, by contemplating them as they are\nheld up before the mind, or sensibly represented to it, in\nlanguage. Though the formula is really the _primum\nphilosophicum_, we attain to it, or are masters of what is\nreally presented in intuition, and are able to say, being is God,\nand God creates existences, only at the end of philosophy, or as\nits last and highest achievement.\n\nThe principles are given in the very constitution of the mind,\nand are present to it from its birth, or, if you will, from the\nfirst instant of its conception; but they are by no means what\nDescartes and others have called _innate ideas_. Descartes\nnever understood by _idea_ the intelligible object itself,\nbut a certain mental representation of it. The idea was held to\nbe rather the image of the thing than the thing itself. It was a\n_tertium quid_ somewhere between real and unreal, and was\nregarded as the medium through which the mind attained to the\nobject. In this sense we recognize no ideas. In the fact of\nknowledge, what we know is the object itself, not its mental\nrepresentation. We take _idea_ or the ideal in the objective\nsense, and understand by it the immediate and the necessary,\npermanent, immutable object of intuition, and it is identical\nwith what we have called the _primum philosophicum_, or\ndivine judgment, which precedes the mind's own activity. Hence we\ncall that judgment the \"ideal formula.\" With this view of idea or\nthe ideal, analogous, at least, to one of the senses of Plato,\nfrom whom we have the word, it is evident that the Cartesian\ndoctrine of innate ideas, which was afterward changed to that of\ninnate faculties, cannot find in us an advocate.\n\nThe formula is ideal and apodictic, but it is not the entire\nobject of the cognitive act. It is that which precedes and\nrenders possible experience, or what Kant calls synthetic\njudgments _a posteriori_. We have said the soul can know\nonly as she exists, and that whatever object she depends on for\nher existence must she depend on for her acts, and it enters into\nall her thoughts or facts of knowledge. The soul depends for\nexistence on God, on humanity and nature. In the formula, we have\nonly the ideal principle of man and nature, and therefore the\nideal formula, while it furnishes the principle and light which\nrender knowledge possible, does not supersede experience, or\nactual knowledge acquired by the exercise of the soul and her\nfaculties. Here the soul proceeds by analysis and synthesis, by\nobservation and induction, or deduction, according to the nature\nof the subject. We do not quarrel with the inductive sciences,\nnor question their utility; we only maintain that they are not\nsciences till carried up to the principles of all real science\npresented to the mind in intuition. Induction is proper in\nconstructing the physical sciences, though frequently improperly\napplied; but it is inapplicable, as my Lord Bacon held, in the\nconstruction of philosophy; for in that we must start from the\nideal formula, and study things in their principles and in their\nreal synthesis.\n\n{686}\n\nWe have got through only the author's Introduction, yet that has\nbrought up nearly all the salient points of his entire volume.\nHere we might stop, and assuredly should stop, if we had no\nhigher object in view than to criticise its author, or simply to\nrefute his psychological method. We believe one of the first\nsteps toward arresting the atheistical or pantheistical tendency\nof the age, and of bringing the mind back to truth and the logic\nof things, is to set forth and vindicate sound philosophy, the\nphilosophy which in substance has always been preserved in the\nChristian church. To use up an author or to denounce a false\nsystem is a small affair. The only solid refutation of error is\nin presenting the truth it impugns. As there are several\nquestions of importance raised by the author on which we have\nhardly touched, we propose to return to the book and consider\nthem at our earliest convenience.\n\n ----------\n\n The Catholic View Of Public Education\n In The United States.\n\n\n[We republish the following article from _The American\nEducational Monthly_, with the permission of the editor, on\naccount of the importance of the subject, the intrinsic value of\nthe article, and to aid in giving it a wide circulation. ED. C.\nW.]\n\n{687}\n\nIt would be wholly superfluous to address an argument to any\nportion of the American people upon the absolute necessity of\npopular education. Upon that point there is no diversity of\nopinion. The fundamental principles of our social system rest\nupon it as a corner-stone; such as, that government derives all\nof its authority, under God, from the consent of the governed;\nthe people possess the sovereignty; public officers are only\npublic servants; the multitude rules by representation; Congress,\nthe President, and the Courts are the people--without the people\nthey have no existence; constitutions and laws are but the\nwell-ordered expression of the public will, at all times\nrevocable, in an orderly manner, and binding upon each citizen as\nthe will of all, unless the popular decree be against the law of\nGod, when, of course, it bind's no man's conscience. Hereditary\nrights, class privileges, ancient social divisions, and\ndistributions of power have all disappeared, or rather, have\nnever existed here. Even in Colonial times, the Crown was almost\na myth, and cast but a shadowy reflection into the deep waters of\nthe Hudson and the Mississippi, as they rolled on to the sea from\nthe illimitable forests where the moccasined hunter was then as\nfree as the Red Indian had been for unrecorded centuries. The\nRevolution of '76 changed the government, but really left the\ncardinal points of our American civilization very much as it\nfound them. In fact, our political education is traceable back to\nthe days of Alfred and Edward the Confessor; for the Norman king\ngave us no concession in Magna Charta which was unknown to Saxon\nliberty. In our Republic we have only drawn out these principles\nto their extreme conclusions. We have gone back to the original\nhypothesis, that society is an association of equal rights for\nmutual protection; and that power, under God, belongs to the\nwhole body of corporators--that is, the multitude. From this\npostulate we are obliged to pass immediately to the axiom that\nthere can be no fit administration of power without knowledge.\nKnowledge may be acquired in several ways. The most direct and\nimpressive is experience. Alcuin was master of books; but\nCharlemagne was master of men. The great emperor could not read,\nbut he possessed the wisdom to govern. Who shall say that he was\nnot \"educated\" in the highest sense of that vague term? And yet,\nit is very clear that knowledge gained only by the slow\naccretions of experience will not answer the wants and rapid\nmovements of such a republic as ours in the age of steam and\nelectricity. Each generation must be trained from the cradle, and\nmade to possess, enlarge, and transmit to its successor all the\naccumulated knowledge of its predecessor. As no atom of matter\nperishes, but is for ever recombining and reproducing; so every\ntrue idea and sound moral sentiment must be made the inheritance\nof society, and never cease to exert its power for good among\nmen. Not that moral truth can ever change; for it is now\nprecisely what it has been from all eternity; nor is it better\nunderstood by the divine to-day, than it was by Moses when he\ncame down from the mountain; but the multitude may be made more\nfully to comprehend and reverence it. Christianity, although\nspecially revealed and miraculously propagated, did not suddenly\nconquer and civilize barbarous peoples. It has been eighteen\nhundred years struggling with the powers of darkness and the\ncorruption of the human heart; and yet, alas! how very, very far\nremoved are not even the most polished nations from the severe\nstandard of Christian perfection! See the tyrannies, the\noppressions, the cruelties, the wars, the pride, the luxury, the\nfolly and deceit which fill the fairest parts of the earth with\nmourning, and drag mankind down into the slough of sin and\nsorrow! To be sure, there is a certain stereotyped class of\nsaints and philosophers who cry aloud, \"Compare our enlightened\nera with the rude times of the crusaders; or place the nineteenth\nalongside of the ninth century; and let the celestial light of\nour civilization shine down into the abysses of monkish\nsuperstition!\" We shall, nevertheless, refuse to close our eyes\nto those stupendous sins which have supplanted the violent crimes\nof our ancestors. We shall see how their robber-sword has been\nput aside for our forger's pen; how their wild foray has given\nplace to our gigantic stock speculation or bank swindle, which\nsweeps widows and orphans, by the ten thousand, into utter\npoverty and despair; how their fierce lust has been civilized\ninto the decorous forms of the divorce courts;\n{688}\nhow their bold grasping of power has been changed into the arts\nof the whining demagogue; how their undisguised plunder of the\npublic treasure in times of civil commotion has been superseded\nby the adroit peculation and covert bribery of our times of\npeace; how their courageous, rude anger has vanished before the\nsafer and more efficacious process of concealed hatred, nestling,\nlike the scorpion, among the roses of adulation. We certainly\nshall be obliged to remember these things, to the great reproach\nof our times, and in serious dread of the future; and we shall\nfeel anxious to go to work to find the cause and the remedy. We\nare all agreed that education, that is, knowledge and moral\ntraining, cannot be dispensed with for an hour--that no nation\ncan be governed safely, much less govern itself at all, without a\nclear head and a sound heart--that, if governed as a dumb brute,\nit will kick against the pricks, fly in the face of its hard\nmaster, and dash out its foolish brains against the stone wall!\nIt will sing the _Marseillaise_ and cover its garments with\nthe blood of kings and aristocrats; until, having spent its fury,\nit will return to its crust and shout \"Vive l'Empereur!\" Should\nit attempt to govern itself, it will become the prey of the\ninfamous men who are the spawn of its own passions. Without\nknowledge, the nation is either a silent sepulchre, where all\nhopes are buried, or a raging sea, where they are quickly\nwrecked. Knowledge, then, _it must have_. But _what_\nknowledge? Shall we say, knowledge of the arts? Ask Phidias and\nPraxiteles if the arts saved Greece! Shall we say, polite\nliterature? Ah! let the mournful chorus of Sophocles, AEschylus\nand Euripides give utterance to the sad cries of those old pagan\nhearts for a higher virtue than the sublimest tragedy could teach\nthem! Shall it be the eloquence of the orator or the wisdom of\nthe legislator? We shall hear in the Philippics how vainly the\nmaster of orators appealed to a degenerate race, and we shall\nread in the closing annals of Athens and Sparta how utterly the\nwisdom of Solon and Lycurgus had failed to save polished and\nwarlike states from the penalty which God has affixed to the\ncrimes of nations. Shall we take refuge in human philosophy?\nSocrates and the divine Plato had cast off the degrading\nsuperstitions of paganism, and had proclaimed to their\nintellectual countrymen the eternity and unity of God, and the\nimmortality of the soul of man. They had most earnestly enjoined\nupon them the sanctity of all the natural virtues--temperance,\nindustry, patience, courage, honesty, benevolence, patriotism,\ncontinence, filial duty, conjugal fidelity; but what did their\nphilosophy avail? Why did it not save the Grecian states? They\nwent down into the night upon which no sun ever again shone!\nTheir Roman conquerors seized upon the rich treasures of their\nknowledge. The Senate listened with rapture to the wisdom of the\nold Hellenic sages translated by Cicero into the noble Latin\ntongue. Virgil and Livy sought to inspire the Roman heart with\ngrand ideas borrowed from the Greek masters. What did it all\navail? The Roman republic had practised the natural virtues as\nfully as unregenerated man is capable of doing by the power of\nvigorous and cultivated reason. What did it avail? They, too,\nwent down into the tomb of dead nations; and a few broken columns\nremain to mark the seat of their world-wide empire!\n{689}\nIt is very manifest, then, that intellectual culture, even when\ncarried to the highest development of which men are capable, can\nnever subdue their passions, nor enable them to uphold the\ncivilization to which they may have attained in the freshness of\ntheir national life. If this were not so, then we could not\nclearly perceive the necessity of the Christian revelation. If\nman was self-sustaining, he would not require the arm of God to\nlean upon. The apothegm of the Greek sage, \"_Know thyself_,\"\nwas a dead letter. It was precisely to teach a man how to know\nhimself that our Saviour came. And this is the whole knowledge!\nNo poetry, oratory, history, philosophy, arts, or sciences could\nteach that, else the world would have learned it four thousand\nyears ago, and the primitive races would not have perished. Even\nunder the Christian dispensation, and in very modern times, men\nand nations have failed to know themselves, because they turned\ntheir backs on Christ and placed their hopes in human science and\nnatural virtue. And so we have seen an enlightened nation in our\nday deify humanity, refuse to adore God, and prostrate itself\nbefore a harlot, as the high-priestess in the apotheosis of\nReason! We have seen an antichristian conspiracy, formed of the\nmost learned, eloquent, witty, and fascinating men of modern\nEurope, exerting the highest arts of genius to repaganize the\nworld. We have seen science, rudely torn from religion, waging an\ninsane war against the peace of society. That terrific phase of\nblasphemous infidelity has passed from our immediate view; but\nhas it left nothing more dangerous behind? We think it has. The\nmass of mankind shrank with horror from the defiant blasphemy of\nVoltaire; and they recoiled with alarm from the ruin caused by\nhis teachings. We love liberty; but we dread license, anarchy,\nchaos. Man is, also, naturally religious. Long after he had\nforgotten the traditions of the patriarchs and had lost God in\nthe night of heathen idolatry, he still clung to\n\n \"The instinct of old reverence!\"\n\nand his wretched soul yearned after its Creator.\n\nThe false worship of Greece and Rome was the inarticulate cry of\na lost people for that true worship which was promised to the\nGentile at the appointed time. False and hideous as it was, who\nwill not say that it was far preferable to atheism? It was only\nwhen the Epicurean philosophy had destroyed the faith of those\npeople, that they cast off all moral restraint, and were swept\naway in the torrent of their vices. Man is naturally religious;\nand therefore the world will not long patiently tolerate the\npresence of blatant infidelity. _The danger is not there_.\nHe who goes about like a roaring lion, seeking whom he may\ndevour, knows very well that mankind is more easily seduced under\nthe forms of virtue than by gross sin. His incarnate agents on\nearth know this too. Hence we find all the world covered over\nwith gossamer nets of seduction! The press teems with books and\njournals, not confessedly infidel, yet working in the interests\nof infidelity; fanning the passions and exciting the morbid\nsensibilities of youth; teaching religious indifference under the\npleasing garb of liberality; holding up the discipline of the\nchurch as hostile to personal freedom; depicting the doctrines\nand ceremonies of the Christian religion as trammels upon mental\nactivity and intellectual progress; arraying the laity against\ntheir pastors; insisting that to be a humane man, an honest and\nindustrious worker, a faithful friend, a good husband and father,\na patriotic citizen, is to be all and to do all that the highest\nChristian morality can require or the welfare of the human race\ndemand; asserting that the specific dogmas of the Christian\nfaith, with perhaps one or two exceptions, are not essential, and\nmay be rejected without concern; receiving with indifference and\npolite complacency either the divinity or the humanity of Christ;\nand accepting him as a God-Saviour, a man-prophet, or a harmless,\nself-deluded impostor, as your fancy may please to dictate; in a\nword, deifying man, and making this world, with its wealth, its\npleasures, its pride and pomp, its power and magnificence, its\ncivilization and nationalities, the sole object of his anxiety\nand love.\n{690}\nSuch, we say, is the growing evil of this nineteenth century,\nwhich is so scornful of the \"dark ages;\" an evil infinitely more\nsubtile and destructive than the rage or gibes of Voltaire. This\npoison has gone through the chilled blood of renegade old men,\ndestroying the religious vitality which had sustained their faith\nfrom the baptismal font to the very edge of the grave; how must\nit not, therefore, affect the hot veins of inexperienced youth,\nwhose generous impulses are their greatest peril! See how, in\nthose European revolutions gotten up by avowed enemies of\nreligion, the students of the universities flock to the standards\nof infidelity, with the seductive cry of \"_Liberty, Equality,\nFraternity!_\" They enlist, with enthusiasm, under what they\nbelieve to be the consecrated banner of inalienable human\nrights--their young, sympathetic hearts are justly moved by the\nsufferings of the toiling millions caused by unequal laws--their\nsense of justice and human brotherhood is outraged at the sight\nof domineering classes who monopolize the blessings of\ngovernment--they see very clearly all the existing wrongs, but\nthey do not see the practicable and wise remedies; and when they\nhear prudent voices counselling patience, and reminding them that\nthe evil works of centuries, like old forest trees, have deep\nroots, and cannot be rudely torn out of the bosom of society\nwithout endangering its life, they cry out in their enthusiasm,\n\"These are the voices of the enemies of the people, the voices of\npriests and aristocrats, away with them to the guillotine!\" Only\ntoo late do they experience the retribution which God invariably\nvisits upon those who presumptuously seek to drive the chariot of\nhis Providence!\n\nNot one word of what we have said is inapplicable to our own\nland. We live, move, and have our whole being in the midst of\nthese same perils. Steam, electricity, commerce, and emigration\nhave made us a part of the great European family. Every throb of\ntheir heart is felt in our own bosom. We are of their blood and\ncivilization. We have their laws and their religion. We are\nnurtured by their science and literature. From us they have\nreceived more thorough ideas of democratic freedom, but from them\nwe have derived all else that constitutes the intellectual life\nof man. It would be the height of folly in us to despise the\nlessons of their experience. Our children should be carefully\ninstructed in all of it. They have a difficult task to perform in\nperpetuating our institutions as they were shaped by the fathers\nof the Republic. They must be well trained in the knowledge\nnecessary for that purpose. From what has already been said it\nwill be at once understood that we do not mean human science\nalone, _nor principally_. The beginning of wisdom is the\nfear of the Lord.\n\n{691}\n\nThis brings us to the consideration of the immediate subject of\nthis article; which can now, we think, be briefly stated;\ninasmuch as the foundation has been properly laid, if our views\nare correct as to the principles which we have presented.\n\nEnlightened rulers all over Europe have been profoundly impressed\nwith the lessons of this and the last century. It was once\nbelieved by monarchs that to enlighten their subjects would be to\nimperil their thrones. It is now very clearly seen that \"the\ndivinity which doth hedge a king\" has long ceased to be an oracle\nto the people. The French emperor erects his dynasty upon popular\nsuffrage. Hereditary right has come down from its ancient\npedestal to accept from the people the confirmation of its\nauthority. It is now too evident for further doubt that no ruler\ncan rule modern nations by any appeal to the mausoleum of his\nancestors. The garish light of the sun has penetrated every royal\ntomb, and has altogether annihilated the mystery which once\nfilled the hearts of nations with awe and unquestioning\nobedience. Public opinion now rules the ruler. Kings and their\nministers have now to elect between intelligent and virtuous\nopinion on the one hand, or revolutionary passions on the other.\nThe wisest of them, therefore, are hastening to educate the\npeople; and they are striving above all things to make such\neducation distinctly _Christian_, and not simply\n_moral_; for they well remember the fate of all nations who\nhave staked their salvation upon the sufficiency of the natural\nvirtues. While kings are doing this to preserve the shadow of\ntheir royalty from the aggressive spirit of the age, we, in this\nchosen land, are doing or aiming to do the same thing, in order\nthat we may rear successive generations of virtuous and\nenlightened heirs to the rich inheritance of our constitutional\ndemocratic freedom. Ours should be much the easier task; as we\nlabor for no dynasty, but strive only to make a nation capable of\nself-preservation. We are no less in earnest than the kings; and\nwe may surely examine their work and see what is good in it. The\nkings tried the pagan idea of intellectual culture adorned with\nthe glittering generalities of moral philosophy; and they added\nto it the maxims of the Christian gospel, whenever that could be\ndone without getting entangled in the conflicting creeds of the\nnumerous sects. The school was like Plato's lecture-room, only\nthat the sacred voice of the evangelist was heard occasionally in\nsuch passages as do not distinctly set forth faith and doctrine,\nabout which the scholars could differ. Sectarianism, as it is\ncalled, had to be excluded, of course, in a mixed system of\npopular education, wherein freedom of conscience was conceded to\nbe a sacred right and proselytism was disavowed. The result was\ntwofold: first, tens of thousands of children were deprived of\ndistinct religious instruction and doctrinal knowledge; and\nsecondly, in countries where the Roman Catholic population was\nlarge, though in a minority, other tens of thousands were left\nwithout secular education, because their parents would not permit\nthem to be brought up in habits of indifferentism, which means\npractical infidelity, or trained in knowledge hostile to their\nreligious faith. Prussia, though she is the very embodiment and\nrepresentative of Protestant Europe, soon came to the conclusion\nthat this would not do--that education must be Christian--that it\nmust be doctrinal and conducive to religious practices--that, as\nall could not or would not believe alike, each should have full\nopportunity to be reared in his own faith, to learn its doctrines\nand to fulfil its duties and discipline--and, therefore, that\nenlightened government established the denominational system,\ngiving to each creed practical equality before the law, a\nseparate school organization, (wherever numbers made it\npracticable,) and a ratable share of the public school-fund;\nreserving to the government only a general supervision, so as to\nsecure a faithful application of the public money, and to enforce\na proper compliance with the educational standard. The public\nschools are organized so that every citizen shall obtain the\ncomplete education of his child, in the faith and practice of his\nown church. All difficulties have disappeared, and perfect\nharmony prevails.\n\n{692}\n\nIn France, by the last census, the population was thirty-seven\nmillions, divided about as follows: 480,000 Calvinists, 267,000\nLutherans, 30,000 of other Protestant sects, and 73,000 Jews; the\nremaining thirty-six millions being either practically or\nnominally Catholic. Although the dissenters from the national\nfaith are less than one million, that government has provided for\nthem, at the public expense, separate primary schools, where each\nsect is at full liberty to teach its own doctrines. There are\nlikewise three seminaries for the higher education of Lutherans\nand Calvinists.\n\nAustria also supports schools, colleges, and universities for a\nProtestant minority.\n\nThe British Government has likewise adopted the same principle of\npublic education for the Catholics and the Protestant dissenters\nof England; while, with her traditional and malignant hatred of\nthe Irish people, she still denies them the justice which she\nextends to all of her other subjects, at home or in the colonies,\neven to the Hindoos and Mohammedans of her Indian empire!\n\nAnd thus the most powerful and enlightened nations have decided\nthat Christian civilization cannot be maintained upon pagan\nideas; and that the safety of every commonwealth depends upon the\nChristian education of the people. They have also clearly seen\nthat _doctrines, discipline, morals_, and \"_the religious\natmosphere_\" must be kept united, and made to penetrate and\nsurround the school at all times; and that, however greatly the\nChristian denominations may differ from each other, or even err\nin their belief, it is far better for society that their youth\nshould be instructed in some form of Christian doctrine, than be\nleft to perish in the dreary and soul-destroying wastes of deism.\nExperience has proved to them that moral teaching, with biblical\nillustrations, as the piety of Joseph, the heroism of Judith, the\npenitence of David, will not suffice to establish the Christian\nfaith in young hearts, or to quiet the doubts of inquiring minds.\nThe subtle Gibbon, mocking the cross of Christ, will confront the\ntestimony of the martyrs with the heroes of pagan history.\nVoltaire did the same for the French youth of the last century,\nto their destruction. No. The experience of wise governments is\nthis: that _morals_ must be based upon _faith_, and\nfaith made efficient in deeds of practical virtue; for faith\nworketh by charity. And another experience is this, which is best\ngiven in the very words of the eminent Protestant statesman and\nhistorian, M. Guizot: \"_In order to make popular education\ntruly good and socially useful, it must be fundamentally\nreligions. I do not simply mean by this, that religious\ninstruction should hold its place in popular education and that\nthe practices of religion should enter into it; for a nation is\nnot religiously educated by such petty and mechanical devices; it\nis necessary that national education should be given and received\nin the midst of a religious atmosphere, and that religions\nimpressions and religious observances should penetrate into all\nits parts. Religion is not a study or an exercise to be\nrestricted to a certain place and a certain hour; it is a faith\nand a law, which ought to be felt everywhere, and which after\nthis manner alone can exercise all its beneficial influence upon\nour minds and our lives_.\"\n{693}\nThe meaning of which is, that not a moment of the hours of school\nshould be left without the religious influence. It is the\nconstant inhalation of the air which preserves our physical\nvitality. It is the \"_religious atmosphere_\" which supports\nthe young soul. Religion cannot be made \"_a study or an\nexercise to be restricted to a certain place and a certain\nhour_.\" It will not do to devote six days in the week to\nscience, and to depend upon the Sunday-school for the religious\ntraining of the child. M. Guizot is right. The enlightened\ngovernments of Europe have accepted his wisdom and reduced it to\npractice in their great national school-systems.\n\nNow, the Catholics of the United States have said no more than\nthat; have asked no more than that; and yet, a wild cry of anger\nhas been raised against them at times, as though they were the\navowed enemies of all popular education. They pay their full\nquota of the public taxes which create the school-fund, and yet\nthey possess, to-day, in proportion to their wealth and numbers,\nmore parochial schools, seminaries, academies, colleges, and\nuniversities, established and sustained exclusively by their own\nprivate resources, than any other denomination of Christians in\nthis country! Certainly this is no evidence of hostility to\neducation! And why have they made these wonderful efforts, these\nunprecedented sacrifices? It is because they believe in the truth\nuttered by M. Guizot. It is because they believe in the truth\nestablished by all history. It is because they believe in the\ntruth accepted and acted upon by enlightened men and governments\nof this age. It is because they know that revealed religion is to\nhuman science what eternity is to time. It is because they know\nthat the salvation of souls is more precious to Christ than the\nknowledge of all the astronomers. It is because they know that\nthe welfare of nations is impossible without God. And yet, they\nfully understand how religion has called science to her side as\nan honored handmaid; how learning, chastened by humility,\nconduces to Christian advancement; how the knowledge of good and\nevil (the fruit of the forbidden tree) may yet be made to honor\nGod, when the sanctified soul rejects the evil and embraces the\ngood. Therefore the Catholic people desire denominational\neducation, as it is called.\n\nThat is the general view of the question; but there is a\nparticular view, not to be overlooked, and which we will now\nbriefly consider.\n\nThe most marked distinction between pagan and Christian society\nis to be found in the relations which the state bears to the\nfamily. Scarcely was the Lacedaemonian boy released from his\nmother's apron-string, when the state seized him with an iron\nhand. The state was thenceforth his father and his mother. The\nsanctities and duties of the family were annihilated. Body and\nsoul, he belonged to the Moloch of Power. Private conscience was\nno more than a piece of coin in circulation; it was a part of the\npublic property. Christ restored the family as it existed in Adam\nand Eve. Christian civilization denies that the state can destroy\nthe family.\n{694}\nThe family is primary; the father the head; the mother the\nhelpmate; the children in subjection, and for whom the parents\nshall give an account to the Father in heaven. The Christian\nstate has no authority, by divine or human appointment, to invade\nthis trust. It has, therefore, no mission either to coerce\nconscience or to dictate the education of it. It is the duty of\nthe state in every way to facilitate, but it cannot arbitrarily\ncontrol the mental and moral training of the people's children.\nThat right and that responsibility are domestical, and belong to\nthe parent.\n\nNow, the Catholic parent is aware that there are between his\ncreed and all others the widest and most irreconcilable\ndifferences, and that it is impossible to open the New Testament,\nat almost any page, without forthwith encountering the prime\ndifficulty. To read the Bible, without note or comment, to young\nchildren, is to abandon them to dangerous speculation, or to\nleave them dry and barren of all Christian knowledge. In mixed\nschools there is no other recourse; because it is impossible to\nmake any comment upon any doctrinal teaching of Christ and his\napostles, without trenching upon the conscientious opinions of\nsome one or other of the listeners. \"The Father and I are one;\"\n\"The Father is greater than I;\" here at once we have the\nUnitarian and the Trinitarian at a dead-lock!\" This is my body;\"\n\"It is the spirit which quickeneth, the flesh profiteth nothing;\"\nhere we have the primitive Lutheran, who believed in the real\npresence, (_consubstantially_,) and his Calvinistic\ncoadjutor in reform squarely at issue! \"Unless you be born again\nof water and the Holy Ghost,\" etc.; here we have the Baptist and\nthe Quaker very seriously divided in opinion. Nevertheless,\nwidely as they differ the one from the other, there is a\nfundamental assimilation between all the Protestant sects, which\nmay render it possible for them to unite in one educational\norganization; and yet, we find many of the most enlightened and\nearnest among the Protestant clergy of America now zealously\nadvocating the denominational system, such as we find in the\nEuropean countries above referred to. They believe that education\nshould be distinctly based upon doctrinal religion; and they are\nliberal enough to insist, that, by natural right, as well as by\nthe constitutional guarantees of our free country, no doctrine\nadverse to the faith of a parent may lawfully be forced or\nsurreptitiously imposed upon his child. It is well known,\nhowever, that, between the Catholic faith and all Protestant\ncreeds, there is a gulf which cannot be bridged over. It would,\ntherefore, be simply impossible to adopt any religious teaching\nwhatever in mixed schools without at once interfering with\nCatholic conscience. No such teaching is attempted, as a general\nrule, we believe, in the public schools of the United States; and\nhence we have only a vague announcement of moral precepts, the\nutter futility and barrenness of which we have already alluded\nto. Catholics, agreeing with very many enlightened and zealous\nProtestants, believe that secular education administered in that\nway is not only vain, but eminently pernicious; that it is fast\nundermining the Christian faith of this nation; that it is\nrapidly filling the land with rationalism; that it is destroying\nthe authority of the Holy Scriptures; that it is educating men\nwho prefix \"Reverend\" and affix \"D.D.\" to their names, the more\neffectually to preach covert infidelity to Christian\ncongregations; that, instead of the saving morality of the gospel\nof Christ, which rests upon revealed mysteries and supernatural\ngifts, it is offering us that same old array of the natural\nvirtues or qualities which pierced, like broken reeds, the sides\nof all heathen nations.\n{695}\nAnd more than this, Catholics know by painful experience, that\nhistory cannot be compiled, travels written, poetry, oratory, or\nromance inflicted upon a credulous public, without the\nstereotyped assaults upon the doctrines, discipline, and\nhistorical life of their church. From Walter Scott to Peter\nParley, and from Hume, Gibbon, and Macaulay, to the mechanical\ncompilers of cheap school-literature, it is the same story, told\na thousand times oftener than it is refuted; so that the English\nlanguage, for the last two centuries, may be said, without\nexaggeration, to have waged war against the Catholic Church.\nIndeed, so far as European history is considered, the difficulty\nmust always be insurmountable; since it would always be\nimpossible for the Catholic and Protestant to accept the same\nhistory of the Reformation or of the Papal See, or the political,\nsocial, and moral events resulting from or in any degree\nconnected with those two great centres and controlling causes.\nWho could write a political history of Christendom for the last\nthree hundred years and omit all mention of Luther and the Pope?\nAnd how is any school compendium of such history to be devised\nfor the use of the Catholic and Protestant child alike? And if\nhistory be philosophy teaching by example, shall we expel it from\nour educational plan altogether? Or shall we oblige the\nProtestant child to study the Catholic version of history, and\n_vice-versa?_ Certainly, it is quite as just and politic to\noblige the one as the other! Shall the \"_majority_\" control\nthis? Who gave \"_majority_\" any such power or right? With\nus, the \"_majority_\" controls the \"_state_;\" and we\nhave seen that the \"_state_\" becomes a usurper when it\nattempts this! We are quite sure that, if the Catholics were the\n\"_majority;_\" in the United States, and were to attempt such\nan injustice, our Protestant brethren would cry out against it,\nand appeal to the wise and liberal examples of Prussia and\nEngland, France and Austria! Now, is it not always as unwise, as\nit is unjust, to make a minority taste the bitterness of\noppression? Men governed by the law of divine charity will bear\nit meekly, and seek to return good for evil; but all men are not\ndocile; and majorities change sides rapidly and often in this\nfleeting world! Is it not wiser and more politic, even in mere\nregard to social interests, that all institutions, intended for\nthe welfare of the people, should be firmly based upon exact and\nequal justice? This would place them under the protection of\n_fixed habit_, which in a nation is as strong as nature; and\nit would save them from the mutations of society. The strong of\none generation may be the weak of the next; and we see this\noccurring with political parties within the brief spaces of\npresidential terms. Hence we wisely inculcate moderation and\njustice in political majorities, under the law of retribution.\n\nProfoundly impressed with these views, and impelled by this\ncommanding sense of duty, our Catholic people have created a vast\nnetwork of schools over the country, _at a price_ which the\nworld knows little of--the sacrifice which the poor man makes,\nwho curtails the wheaten loaf that he may give to his child the\nspiritual bread! Ah! how many humble cottages and dreary\ntenement-houses could testify to that!\n{696}\nThere are six millions of them here now; and still they come,\nfrom the deserted hearths beyond the seas. They are upright,\nindustrious, and love the new land like the old! In war, they\nshoulder the musket; in peace, they are found filling every\navenue of labor and enterprise. They contribute millions to the\npublic revenue, and hundreds of millions to the productive\nindustry of the country. Their own welfare and the highest\ninterests of the country demand that their children and their\nchildren's children should be well instructed in secular\nlearning, and thoroughly grounded in moral and religious\nknowledge. As we have shown, they cannot avail themselves of the\npublic school system, as now organized, though they contribute\nlargely to its support by their taxes. _They do not desire to\ninterfere with that system_, as it seems at present to meet\nthe wants, or at least the views, of their Protestant\nfellow-citizens; and they are, therefore, _not_ \"opposed to\nthe common schools\" in the sense in which they have been\nrepresented to be. They simply ask that they may be allowed to\nparticipate in the only way open to them, that is, by the\napportionment to them of a ratable part of the fund, in aid of\ntheir existing schools, and of such others as their numbers, in\nany given locality, may properly enable them to establish,\nsubject to the limited supervision of the state, as we have\nbefore explained. We need go no further than Canada to witness\nthis system operating harmoniously and to the best advantage. The\nargument generally used against it is, that this would destroy\nthe unity and efficiency of the whole. Why is it not so in\nPrussia, Austria, France, England, and the British Colonies?\nBesides, the Catholic populations in this country are very much\naggregated, as in Baltimore, Philadelphia, Boston, New York,\nBrooklyn, Cincinnati, St. Louis, Chicago, Milwaukee, and in the\nlarge agricultural settlements throughout the North-Western\nStates. Certainly, in such localities there could be no\ndifficulty. It is contemplated by the school law that all these\nare to be educated. Then, why can they not be permitted to\norganize separate schools, as in the countries referred to? Such\norganization would be an integral part of the whole system; and\nthe cost would be precisely the same. In fact, we learn from the\nReports of Assistant Superintendents Jones and Calkins, made to\nHon. S. S. Randall, the City Superintendent, and also from his\nReport made to the Hon. Board of Education, in December, 1866,\nthat the school room provided in the city of New York (especially\nin the primary department) is altogether inadequate; and yet we\nknow that tens of thousands of Catholic children could easily be\ncared for, if the means were afforded those who, even now, with\nthe scantiest resources, are erecting parochial schools all over\nthe city.\n\nIt would be impossible in a brief article to enter into details.\nOur purpose has been rather to set this question before a liberal\npublic in its great leading aspects, as we are quite willing to\ntrust to the wisdom and experience of our legislators to devise\nthe proper plan and specifications. They will be at no loss for\nprecedents. The statute-books of half a dozen countries may be\nconsulted profitably. All we ask is, that this momentous question\nmay be candidly considered and justly and generously disposed of.\nWe hope that the day has gone by when such a question as this\nshall be met with passionate declamation or the obsolete cry of\n\"no popery.\"\n{697}\nDisraeli has failed to stem the tide of popular reform in England\nby reviving the insane clamor of Lord George Gordon. The world\nhas outgrown such narrow bigotry. Vital questions, affecting the\nconscience and the rights of multitudes of men, and deeply\ninvolving the welfare of nations, must henceforth be settled by\ncalm and just decisions. Christendom will tolerate nothing else\nnow. And surely, this free and wise Republic will not be the last\nto put into practice those principles of equality before the law,\njustice, and generous confidence in human nature, which it\npublished to all the down-trodden nationalities of the earth,\nalmost a century ago, over the signatures of Hancock, Livingston,\nand Carroll of Carrollton.\n\n ----------\n\n The Eclipse Of The Sun Of August 18, 1868.\n\n A Report Addressed By M. Janssen To The Marshal Of France,\n President Of The Bureau Of Longitudes.\n\n\n Calcutta, November 3, 1868.\n M. Le Mar\u00e9chal Et Ministre:\n\nI have the honor of addressing to you, as President of the Bureau\nof Longitudes, my report on the eclipse of the 18th of last\nAugust, and upon some subsequent observations, which led me to\nthe discovery of a method of observing the solar protuberances\nwhen the sun is not eclipsed. I will beg you to have the kindness\nto communicate this to the Bureau.\n\nI have the honor to be, etc. etc.,\n Janssen.\n\n\nMr. President:\n\nI had the privilege of writing to you on the 19th of September\nlast, to give you a brief account of my expedition. I am now able\nto furnish you with a more complete report of my observations\nduring the great eclipse of the 18th of August.\n\nThe steamer of the Messageries Imperiales, in which I left\nFrance, landed me, on the 16th of July, at Madras, where I was\nreceived by the English authorities with great courtesy. Lord\nNapier, the governor of the province, gave me passage to\nMasulipatam upon a government boat. Mr. Grahame, an assistant\ncollector, was sent with me to remove any difficulties which I\nmight meet with in the interior.\n\nOn arriving, I had to select my station.\n\nA chart of the eclipse shows that the central line, after\ncrossing the Bay of Bengal, enters the peninsula of India at\nMasulipatam, and crossing the great plains formed by the delta of\nthe Kistna, passes into a hilly country, containing several\nchains of mountains, on the frontier of the independent state of\nNizzam. After receiving and considering much information on the\nsubject, I determined to choose the city of Guntoor, situated on\nthis central line, half-way between the mountains and the sea. I\nthus avoided the sea-fogs, very frequent at Masulipatam, as well\nas the clouds which often hang about lofty peaks.\n\n{698}\n\nGuntoor is quite an important place, being the centre of a large\ncotton trade. This cotton comes mostly from Nizzam, and is\nshipped to Europe from the ports of Cocanada and Masulipatam.\nSeveral French merchants, with their families, live at Guntoor;\nthey are descended, generally speaking, from those ancient and\nnumerous families which in former times were the glory of our\nbeautiful Indian colonies.\n\nMy observatory was at the residence of M. Jules Lefaucheur, who\nwas so kind as to place at my disposal all the first story of his\nhouse, which is in the highest and best part of the city. The\nrooms of this first story communicated with a large terrace, upon\nwhich I erected a temporary structure suitable for the\nobservations intended.\n\nThe instruments were several achromatic lenses of six inches\naperture, and a Foucault telescope of twenty-one centimetres. The\nformer were all mounted upon one stand. The general movement was\ngiven by a mechanism constructed by Messrs. Brunner Bros., which\nenabled one to follow the sun by a simple rotation.\n\nThe apparatus was furnished with finders of two and two and three\nquarter inches aperture, which were themselves good astronomical\nglasses. In spectral analysis, these finders have a peculiar\nimportance; for by means of them the precise point of the object\nunder examination is known, to which the slit of the spectroscope\nin the principal telescope is directed. It is therefore necessary\nthat the cross-wires, or in general the sights placed in the\nfield of the finder, should correspond with great exactness with\nthe slit of the spectral apparatus, and I had, of course, taken\ngreat care to secure this essential point. Special micrometers\nwere also provided, to measure rapidly the height and angle of\nposition of the protuberances. As for the spectroscopes, I had\nchosen them of different magnifying powers, so as to answer to\nthe different requirements of the various phenomena. Finally, the\napparatus carried, at the eye-piece end, screens of black cloth,\nforming a dark chamber, in order to preserve the sensibility of\nthe eye.\n\nBesides these instruments, intended for the principal\nobservations, I had brought a full set of very delicate\nthermometers, made with great skill by M. Baudin; also some\nportable spy-glasses, hygrometers, barometers, etc. Thus I was\nable to turn to account the kindness of MM. Jules, Arthur, and\nWilliam Lefaucheur, who offered their services for the subsidiary\nwork. M. Jules, who is a good draughtsman, undertook to sketch\nthe eclipse. An excellent telescope, of three inches aperture,\nfurnished with cross-wires, was assigned to his use; he practised\nwith it the representation of the expected phenomena by means of\nartificial imitations of eclipses. The thermometric observations\nwere given to M. Arthur, who was also directed to ascertain the\nbrilliancy of the protuberances and of the corona at the moment\nof totality, by a very simple photometric process.\n\nI was assisted in my own operations by M. Redier, a young\nsubaltern, whom the commander of the steamer L'Imperatrice had\nsupplied to me. The services of M. Redier, who has excellent\nobserving qualities, were very useful to me.\n\nThe time which remained before the eclipse was employed in\npreliminary study and practice, which served to familiarize us\nwith the handling of our instruments, and suggested to me various\nimprovements in them.\n\n{699}\n\nThe day approached, but the weather did not promise to be\nfavorable. It had rained for some time all along the coast. These\nrains were considered as extraordinary and exceptional.\nFortunately, they moderated gradually before the 18th; and on\nthat day the sun rose unclouded, and dimmed only by a mist out of\nwhich it soon passed; and at the time when our telescopes showed\nus that the eclipse began, it was shining with its full splendor.\n\nEvery one was at his post, and the observations immediately\ncommenced. During the first phases some thin vapors passed before\nthe sun, which interfered somewhat with the thermometric\nmeasurements; but, as the moment of totality approached, the sky\nbecame sufficiently clear.\n\nMeanwhile the light diminished sensibly, surrounding objects\nappearing as if seen by moonlight. The decisive moment was near,\nand we waited for it with some anxiety; this anxiety took nothing\nfrom our powers of observation, it rather stimulated and\nincreased them; and it was, besides, fully justified by the\ngrandeur of the spectacle which nature was preparing for us, and\nby the consciousness that the fruits of our thorough preparations\nand of a long voyage would depend on the use now made of a few\nminutes.\n\nThe solar disc was soon reduced to a narrow bright arc, and we\nredoubled our attention. The slits of the spectroscopes were kept\nprecisely upon the part of the moon's limb where the last light\nof the sun would be seen, so that they would be directed to the\nlower regions of the solar atmosphere at the moment of contact of\nthe discs.\n\nThe total obscuration occurred instantaneously, and the spectral\nphenomena also changed immediately in a very remarkable manner.\nTwo spectra, formed of five or six very bright lines--red,\nyellow, green, blue, and violet--occupied the field in place of\nthe prismatic image of the sun which had just disappeared. These\nspectra, about one minute (of arc) long, corresponded line for\nline, and were separated by a dark space in which I could see no\nlines.\n\nThe finder showed that these two spectra were caused by two\nmagnificent protuberances which were now visible on each side of\nthe point of contact. One of them, that on the left, was more\nthan three minutes (or one tenth of the sun's diameter) in\nheight; it looked like the flame of a furnace, rushing violently\nfrom the openings of the burning mass within, and driven by a\nstrong wind. The one to the right presented the appearance of a\nmass of snowy mountains, with its base resting on the moon's\nlimb, and enlightened by a setting sun. These appearances have\nbeen carefully drawn by M. Jules Lefaucheur. I will therefore\nonly remark before quitting the subject, which I shall have to\ntreat subsequently under a special aspect, that the preceding\nobservation shows at once:\n\n1st. The gaseous nature of the protuberances, (the lines being\nbright.)\n\n2d. The general similarity of their chemical composition, (the\nspectra corresponding line for line.)\n\n3d. Their chemical species, (the red and blue lines of their\nspectrum being no other than the lines C and F of the solar one,\nand belonging, as is well known, to hydrogen gas.)\n\nLet us now return to the dark space which separated the spectra\nof these protuberances. It will be remembered that, at the moment\nof the total obscuration, the slits were tangent to the solar and\nlunar discs, and were therefore directed toward the circumsolar\nregions immediately above the photosphere, in which regions M.\nKirchhoff's theory places the atmosphere of vapors, which\nproduces by absorption the dark lines of the solar spectrum.\n{700}\nThis atmosphere, when shining by its own light, should, according\nto the same theory, give a reversed solar spectrum, that is to\nsay, one composed entirely of bright lines. This is what we were\nexpecting and trying to verify, and it was to make the proof\ndecisive that I had used so many precautions. But we have just\nseen that only the protuberances gave positive or bright-line\nspectra. Now, it is very certain that, if an atmosphere formed of\nthe vapors of all the substances which have been found in the sun\nreally existed above the photosphere, it would have given a\nspectrum at least as brilliant as that of the protuberances,\nwhich were formed of a gas much less dense and less luminous. It\nmust, then, be admitted that, if this atmosphere exists, its\nheight is so small that it has escaped notice.\n\nI must also add that this result did not much surprise me; for my\ninvestigations on the solar spectrum had led me to doubt the\nreality of any considerable atmosphere around the sun, and I am\nmore and more inclined to think that the phenomena of elective\nabsorption, ascribed by the great physicist of Heidelberg to an\natmosphere exterior to the sun, are clue to the vapors of the\nphotosphere itself, in which the solid and liquid particles\nforming the luminous clouds are floating. This view is not merely\nin harmony with the beautiful theory on the constitution of the\nphotosphere which we owe to M. Faye, but even seems to be a\nnecessary deduction from it.\n\nIn fine, the eclipse of the 18th of August appears to me to show\nthat the formation of the solar spectrum cannot be explained by\nthe theory heretofore admitted, and I propose a correction to\nthis theory as above indicated.\n\n\n\nTo return to the protuberances. During the total obscuration, I\nwas much impressed by the extreme brilliancy of their spectral\nlines. The idea immediately occurred to me that they might be\nseen even when the sun was unobscured; unfortunately the weather,\nwhich became cloudy after the eclipse, did not allow me to try\nthe experiment on that day. During the night, the method and the\nmeans presented themselves clearly to my mind. Rising the next\nmorning at three, I prepared for these new observations. The sun\nrose quite clear; as soon as it had risen from the haze of the\nhorizon, I began to examine it, placing the slit of the\nspectroscope, by means of the finder, upon the same place where,\nthe day before, I had seen the protuberances.\n\nThe slit, being placed partly on the solar disc and partly\noutside, gave, of course, two spectra, that of the sun and that\nof the protuberances. The brilliancy of the solar spectrum was a\ngreat difficulty; I partially avoided it by hiding the yellow,\nthe green, and the blue portions, which were the most brilliant.\nAll my attention was directed to the line C, dark for the sun,\nbright for the protuberance, and which, coming at a rather faint\npart of the spectrum, was seen with comparative ease.\n\nI had not examined the right hand or western part of the\nprotuberant region long when I suddenly noticed a small bright\nred line, forming an exact prolongation of the dark line G of the\nsun. Moving the slit so as to sweep methodically the region which\nI was exploring, this line remained, but changed its length and\nits brilliancy in the different parts, showing a great inequality\nin the height and brightness of the various parts of the\nprotuberance.\n{701}\nThis examination was resumed at three different times, and the\nbright line always appeared in the same circumstances. M. Redier,\nwho assisted me with much interest in these experiments, saw it\nas well as I, and soon we could even predict its appearance by\nmerely knowing what region we were examining. Soon after, I\nascertained that the line F showed itself simultaneously with G.\n\nIn the afternoon, I returned to the region examined in the\nmorning; the bright lines again showed themselves, but they\nindicated great changes in the distribution of the protuberant\nmatter; the lines broke up sometimes into isolated fragments\nwhich would not unite with the principal one, notwithstanding the\nshifting of the slit. This suggested the existence of scattered\nclouds formed during the forenoon. In the region of the great (or\nleft hand) protuberance, I found some bright lines, but their\nlength and arrangement showed that great changes had also\noccurred here.\n\nThese first observations already showed that the coincidence of\nthe lines G and F was real, and that hydrogen was certainly the\nmost important element in these circumsolar masses. They also\nestablished the rapidity of the changes which these bodies\nundergo, which cannot be perceived during the short duration of\nan eclipse.\n\nThe following days, I availed myself of all the opportunities\nallowed by the weather to apply and perfect the new method, at\nleast as far as was permitted by the character of the\ninstruments, which had not been constructed to suit this new\nidea.\n\nObserving very attentively the lines of the protuberances, I have\nsometimes noticed that they penetrated into the dark lines of the\nsolar spectrum, showing thus that the protuberance extends over\npart of the sun's disc. This result was naturally to be expected;\nbut the interposition of the moon has always made its proof\nimpossible during eclipses.\n\nI will also detail here an observation made on the 4th of\nSeptember at a favorable time, which shows how rapidly the\nprotuberances change their form and position.\n\nAt 9h. 50m., the examination of the sun showed a mass of\nprotuberant matter in the lower part of the disc. To determine\nits shape, I used a method which may be called chronometric,\nsince time is employed in it as the standard of measure.\n\nIn this method, the telescope is placed in a fixed position, so\nchosen that by the diurnal movement of the sun all parts of the\nregion to be explored shall come in turn into the field of the\nspectroscope; and at determinate times the length and situation\nof the spectral lines successively produced are noted.\n\nThe time occupied by the sun's disc in passing before the slit\ngives the value of a second of time in minutes of arc. This,\ncombined with the length of the lines estimated in the same unit,\ngives the means for a graphic representation of the protuberance.\n\nThe application of this method to the study of the solar region\njust mentioned as seen on this occasion, showed a protuberance\nextending over about thirty degrees (or one twelfth) of the sun's\ncircumference, ten of which were east of the vertical diameter,\nand twenty west. Near the extremity of the western part, a cloud\nwas lying, distant one and a half minutes, or one twentieth of\nthe sun's diameter, from its limb. This cloud, about two minutes\nlong and one high, was parallel to the limb.\n{702}\nOne hour afterward, a new drawing showed that the cloud had risen\nrapidly, and taken a globular form. But its movements soon became\nstill quicker; for ten minutes later, at eleven o'clock, the\nglobe was enormously extended in a direction perpendicular to the\nlimb and to its previous position. A little mass of matter was\nalso detached from the lower part, and hung between the sun and\nthe main body of the cloud. Thick weather coming on prevented\nfurther observations.\n\nTo resume our remarks. Considered in regard to its principle, the\nnew method is based upon the difference of the spectral\nproperties of the protuberances and of the photosphere. The light\nof the latter emanates from solid or liquid particles, which are\nincandescent, and is incomparably brighter than that of the\nformer; so that these have hardly been visible hitherto, except\nduring eclipses. But the case is quite altered when we use the\nspectra of these bodies. For the solar light is spread over the\nwhole extent of its spectrum, and thus much weakened; while that\nof the protuberances, on the contrary, is condensed into a few\nlines whose intensity bears some proportion to that of the\ncorresponding solar ones. Hence their lines are quite easily seen\nin the field, together with those of the sun, though their\nordinary images are entirely effaced by the dazzling light of the\nphotosphere.\n\nAnother very fortunate circumstance for the new method comes to\nthe support of the one just mentioned, namely, that the bright\nlines of the protuberances answer to the dark ones of the solar\nspectrum. Hence they are not only more easily seen in their own\nproper field, outside and on the edge of the solar spectrum, but\nthey can even be followed into the interior of the latter, and by\nthis means the protuberances can be traced upon the globe of the\nsun itself.\n\nAs regards the determination of chemical composition, the methods\nfollowed during total eclipses always carried with them some\nuncertainty; since, in the absence of the sun's light, graduated\nscales had to be employed to fix the position of the lines. The\nnew method enables us to compare the two spectra directly.\n\nAs to the results obtained during the brief period in which this\nmethod has been used, they are as follows:\n\n1st. That the luminous protuberances observed during total\neclipses belong unquestionably to the circumsolar regions.\n\n2d. That these bodies are mainly or entirely composed of\nincandescent hydrogen gas.\n\n3d. That they are subject to movements of which no terrestrial\nphenomenon can give us any idea; since, though they are masses of\nmatter having several hundred times the volume of the earth, they\nchange completely their form and position in the course of a few\nminutes.\n\nSuch are the principal facts arrived at. I hope, notwithstanding\nthe state of my eyes--fatigued by protracted experiments upon the\nsubject of light--that I shall be able to continue my labors, and\nhave the honor of submitting the results to the Bureau.\n\nIn conclusion, I will add, that I have also had an opportunity to\ncontinue my researches on the spectrum of the vapor of water. The\nclimate of India, which is very moist at present, is quite\nfavorable to these investigations. I am inclined to attribute to\nthis spectrum a continually increasing importance. The whole\nseries of my observations here and at Paris has made me confident\nof an elective action upon all the solar rays as far as the\nextreme violet, though in the latter such an action is much more\ndifficult to establish with certainty. These experiments will\nform the subject of a separate communication.\n\n ----------\n\n{703}\n\n Who Shall Take Care Of The Poor?\n\n First Article.\n\n\nThe duty of caring for the poor, which Christ laid upon his\nchurch, has been assumed in modern times by the civil power; and\ngovernments have sought, by legislative enactments and political\nmachinery, to fill the place of those ecclesiastical charities\nwhich disappeared in the convulsions of the sixteenth century. It\nis needless to say that their attempts have failed, and that the\nproblem, \"Who shall take care of the poor?\" is still, in all\nProtestant countries, practically unsolved. We feel, therefore,\nthat no apology is necessary for entering upon its discussion\nhere, and that any light which may be thrown upon the subject by\nourselves or others will tend to elucidate one of the most\nperplexed and difficult social questions of the present age.\n\nThere are certain fundamental principles which any examination of\nthis subject, from a Christian point of view, must assume, and in\naccordance with which all Christian theories and practice\nconcerning it must proceed.\n\nThese principles may be thus briefly stated:\n\nI. That the care of the poor devolves upon those who continue the\nmission of Christ in the redemption of mankind and accept and\nobey his command, \"Feed my flock;\" upon those whose discipline of\ncharacter, at once personal and corporate, enables them to help\nthe helpless, to reform the vicious, and to conciliate the\ndangerous, while their organization affords a guarantee of\npersistence in these good works and of the proper use of the\nmeans confided to them; in a word, upon those who combine the\nattributes of a providence at once universal and discerning, with\nequity in administration and energy in execution.\n\nII. That the principle of action, by which this work alone can be\neffected, is what may be termed \"absorbent substitution,\" that\nis, the voluntary assumption of poverty out of practical sympathy\nwith the poor.\n\nIII. That the legitimate effect of this action is to encourage,\naid, and guide the poor to help themselves, and to infuse into\nthem that love for their neighbor which, by this mediation,\nbecomes reciprocal.\n\nIV. That the established means by which this work must be\nperformed are, first: The church in her collective capacity;\nsecond, the orders of charity; third, the variously constituted\nbeneficial societies; fourth, the hand of private Christian\ncharity, the latter of which, in the discussion of this question\nas a public one, does not, however, enter into our consideration.\n{704}\nThe three first mentioned are often found united in the same\ncommunity: the church, represented by the congregation,\ncontaining Sisters of Charity or Mercy, and also assistant orders\nof pious persons, who, though bound by no vows, work in the world\nand aid the other orders with their purse and influence. Still,\nthose who take the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, and\nwho, in organized communities, devote themselves to works of\ncharity, must be regarded as the most perfect organs of this\nChristian work. And these become thus voluntarily poor,\nself-denying, and exclusive, because not only is the healthy soul\nfortified and preserved in spiritual power by privation of the\npleasures of the senses, but poverty itself becomes ennobled by\nthe assumption, and its degradation disappears.\n\nTreating these principles, for the present, as self-evident, we\nnow inquire:\n\nWho are _our_ poor, and how shall they be cared for?\n\nUpon this question, the Catholic Church cannot limit her\nprovidential mission or assume a sectarian attitude. While\npreaching, by example, to the pious and humane of every creed,\nthe zeal of active charity, she must extend her benefits to all\nthose who need and seek her, without favor or distinction. This\nshe must do to be consistent with her own historic record, and to\nfulfil the behest of her Lord.\n\nWherever Christian faith and love exist, \"by their works ye shall\nknow them.\" Charity is the test of the Catholic faith. Our Douay\nCatechism says that \"the first fruit of the Holy Ghost is\ncharity.\" Then it tells us what charity means, in the language of\nits effects, namely, \"To feed the hungry, to give drink to the\nthirsty, to clothe the naked, to visit and ransom captives, to\nharbor the harborless, to visit the sick, to bury the dead:\" a\nvery matter of fact definition, but which implies that,\n\n\"Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.\"\n\nThe practice of charity alone can reconcile mankind by\ndissipating schism, and by thus re-establishing their unison,\nsecure the triumph of the Christian church over the world.\n\nThis universal unity of spirit employs in its methods of action\nmany distinct organs and corresponding varieties of function, and\nthe time-honored maxim, _Una fides, una domus_, \"One faith,\none house,\" and the obedience to constituted authority, bind in\nthe circle of good-will those orders which, though each adopts a\nparticular rule and special use, amicably co-operate in their\nseparation, like the branches of the same vine.\n\nWhatever principles of action experience has sanctioned in\nCatholic charities, commend themselves alike to all Christians.\n\n\"Why is it,\" asks Mrs. Jameson, \"that we see so many women,\ncarefully educated, going over to the Catholic Church? For no\nother reason than for the power it gives them to throw their\nenergies into a sphere of definite utility, under the control of\na high religious responsibility.\"\n\nTo each of the notable aspects of human affliction corresponds,\nin the history of Christendom, one or more orders consecrated to\nits relief, and, far from being confined to mere palliative\nexpedients, organic efforts toward the radical cure of our social\nevils have been developed under the influence of the Catholic\nChurch.\n\nDistinctive characters of the Catholic orders, though not\nconfined to them, are celibacy and community of property. A bond\nof union purely spiritual dissolves and replaces those ties which\ndevelop the personality of the individual.\n\n{705}\n\nNo fair comparison can be instituted between Catholic and\nProtestant orders of charity, for the simple reason that marriage\nand the family, which perpetuate secular estates by entail or\ninheritance, or seek, in the exchange of love, an earthly heaven,\nact as effectual dissolvents on religious orders consecrated to a\nspecial work. The vitality of the Episcopalian charities, St.\nJohn's and St. Luke's, is now undergoing this experiment, to-wit:\nCan the requisite number of efficient nurses and officers be\nmaintained without binding vows? Can the service of the order be\norganized with influences that shall counterpoise the temptations\nof worldly vanities and interests, the powerful attraction of the\nsexes, and the honorable ambition of becoming one's self a focus\nof social radiation?\n\nOf course, it is not necessary to the effectiveness of a given\nservice that it should always be rendered by the same\nindividuals; but numbers avail not without discipline; and, while\nrelays and successions are allowed, they must not be too\nfrequent. The sacrifice of personal liberty, to a certain extent,\nis indispensable to the order and efficiency of co-operative\ncharity. Hence it is not surprising that the first attempts in\nEngland to constitute Episcopalian orders of charity should\ngenerally have failed. This impulse was due to the humiliating\nlesson of the Crimean war, when Sisters of Charity and Mercy\nflocked from all Europe to the assistance of the French sick and\nwounded, when similar orders of the Greek Church came to befriend\nthe afflicted Russian soldiers; but the English were perishing\nmiserably, until their unlooked-for succor by the intervention of\nMiss Florence Nightingale and her heroic band.\n\nThe necessity thus apprehended, to fall back on the institutions\nof Catholicity, has recently occasioned the formation of orders,\nwho take the vow of chastity, poverty, and obedience. Sisters of\nMercy and Sisters of the _Contemplative Life_ may be seen in\nLondon, repairing to chapel through deserted streets in the early\nmorning hours. Will such vows, unsanctioned by the public opinion\nof Protestant countries, be really binding? How has it proved at\nValle Cruce?\n\nOppressed and alarmed by the increase of pauperism, and the worse\nthan inefficiency of her poor-rates and secular measures of\npauper-relief, England now feels that she has committed something\nnear akin to suicide in the destruction of her religious orders.\nNo longer \"merry and wise,\" her political economists are\nsplitting hairs to find just what pittance may suffice to keep\nthe poor from dying of hunger without making them more\ncomfortable than others whose pride refuses alms, so as not to\nset a premium on idleness.\n\n\"The notion popularized by Cobbett,\" says Herbert Spencer,\narguing the question, \"that every one has a right to a\nmaintenance out of the soil, leaves those who adopt it in an\nawkward predicament. Do but ask them to specify, and they are set\nfast. Assent to their principle; tell them you will assume their\ntitle to be valid; and then, as a needful preliminary to the\nliquidation of their claim, ask for some precise definition of\nit; inquire what is a maintenance. They are dumb! Is it, say you,\npotatoes and salt, with rags and a mud cabin? or is it bread and\nbacon, in a two-roomed cottage? Will a joint on Sundays suffice?\nor does the demand include meat and malt-liquor daily?\n{706}\nWill tea, coffee, and tobacco be expected? and if so, how many\nounces of each? Are bare walls and brick floors all that is\nneeded? or must there be carpets and paper-hanging? Are shoes\nconsidered essential? or will the Scotch practice be approved?\nShall the clothing be of fustian? If not, of what quality must\nthe broadcloth be? In short, just point out where, between the\ntwo extremes of starvation and luxury, this something called a\nmaintenance lies. How else shall we know whether enough has been\nawarded, or whether too much? One thinks that a bare subsistence\nis all that can fairly be demanded. Another hints at something\nbeyond. A third maintains that a few of the enjoyments of life\nshould be provided for. And some of the more consistent, pushing\nthe doctrine to its legitimate result, will rest satisfied with\nnothing short of community of property.\"\n\nWhat this argument renders most apparent is, the necessity for an\numpire, or mediatorial power, between collective society and the\nindividual or family requiring aid, a power sympathetic alike\nwith those who have more, and with those who have less, than\nnecessity demands, and whose social position shall derive, from a\nsource superior to either, a _prestige_ which will inspire\nconfidence in its discretion and give a certain authority to its\ndecisions. If personal beneficence or corporate guarantees\nsuffice for the relief of sufferers, or to obtain for those able\nand willing the opportunity of suitable employment, the\nmediatorial power will not interfere. If, on the other hand,\nappeal be made to it, it may act either by the exercise of its\nown faculties, or as the trustee of social goods; a mutual\nintelligence bureau of higher grade than our ordinary business\noffices. Such a function the Catholic Church and its orders of\ncharity fulfilled in England, and may yet fulfil in America.\n\nMr. John Stuart Mill well observes, that the state cannot\nundertake to discriminate between the deserving and the\nundeserving indigent. It owes no more than subsistence to the\nfirst, and can give no less to the last. Since it must provide\nsubsistence for the criminal poor while undergoing punishment,\nnot to do the same for the poor--who have not offended is to give\na premium to crime. Guardians and overseers are not fit to be\ntrusted to give or withhold other people's money according to\ntheir verdict on the morality of the person soliciting it, and it\nwould show much ignorance of the ways of mankind to suppose that\nsuch persons, even in the almost impossible case of their being\nqualified, will take the trouble of ascertaining and sifting the\npast conduct of a person in distress, so as to form a rational\njudgment on it. Private charity can make these distinctions, and,\nin bestowing its own money, is entitled to do so according to its\nown judgment.\n\nIt is admitted to be right that human beings should help one\nanother; and the more so in proportion to the urgency of the\nneed. In all cases of helping, we distinguish the consequences of\nthe assistance itself, and the consequences of relying on the\nassistance. The former are generally beneficial, but the latter\nfor the most part injurious; so much so, in many cases, as\ngreatly to outweigh the value of the benefit. There are few\nthings more mischievous than that people should rely on the\nhabitual aid of others for the means of subsistence, and\nunhappily there is no lesson which they more easily learn. The\nproblem to be solved is, how to give the greatest amount of\nneedful help with the smallest encouragement to undue reliance on\nit.\n{707}\nEnergy and self-dependence are, however, liable to be impaired by\nthe absence of help as well as by its excess. It is even more\nfatal to exertion to have no hope of succeeding by it than to be\nassured of succeeding without it. When the condition of any one\nis so disastrous that his energies are paralyzed by\ndiscouragement, assistance is a tonic, not a sedative. It braces\ninstead of deadening the active faculties, always provided that\nthe assistance is not such as to dispense with self-help by\nsubstituting itself for the person's own labor, skill, and\nprudence, but is limited to affording him a better hope of\nattaining success by those legitimate means. This accordingly is\na test to which all plans of philanthropy should be brought,\nwhether intended for the benefit of individuals or of classes,\nand whether conducted on the voluntary or the government\nprinciple.\n\nOverlooking the spiritual forces which religious charity brings\nto bear in elevating the moral tone of character, Mr. Mill finds\nthe foregoing principles well applied by the English Poor-Law of\n1834, because, while it prevents any person, except by his own\nchoice, from dying of hunger, it leaves their condition as much\nas possible below that of the poorest who find support for\nthemselves. Mr. Mill's logic here seems to arrive at the\n_reductio ad absurdum_; for the state of these poorest of\nthe working poor, whom pride forbids to claim pauper relief, is\ntoo distressing for charity, acting only below that level, to be\nof any avail. Usually inclined to the most liberal and humane\nviews, Mr. Mill has here given way to a Protestant prejudice,\nwhich regards as ill-advised the more whole-souled Catholic style\nof charity. The following extract from De Vere's work shows the\ncontrast, and affords a good answer to this overcautiousness\nabout doing too much. All depends upon the spirit in which\ncharity is bestowed; it should be cordial, not humiliating and\ndistressing:\n\n \"Most of the Sisters are from the class of servants and\n needle-women; but there are many who, having been brought up to\n enjoy all the comforts and even elegances of life, have\n willingly renounced all to make themselves the humblest\n servants of the poor, to wash, and cook, and _beg_ for\n those who have been beggars all their lives. The secret of all\n this lies in this, that the Sisters see, in their poor, Jesus\n Christ himself, to wait on whom must be their highest glory.\n From this, then, springs the most delightful interchange of\n feeling between the Sisters and their pensioners; for these\n poor people reverence with the liveliest gratitude those who\n seem to them as the angels of God sent to redeem them from all\n their misery and wretchedness, to comfort their bodies, and\n enlighten their souls. The change wrought in the old people\n after they have been with the Sisters a little while, is said\n to be most remarkable. From being fractious, complaining, and\n idle, they grow cheerful and contented in the highest degree,\n and every one is anxious to do something to contribute to the\n common stock. '_Our_ houses, _our_ Sisters,' they\n say--a type of the perfect union which reigns amongst them.\n Everything is done by the Sisters to cultivate a spirit of\n cheerfulness; they are treated as children, and every\n opportunity is embraced of making them a little festival. The\n beautiful simplicity of childhood seems to return in all its\n fulness to these poor creatures, whose lives have been spent in\n vice and misery. From a state approaching to brutality, they\n revive even to gayety. Well may they say as they do, 'We never\n were happy until we came here.' On great occasions they sing\n and dance, and the Sisters join with them. When the anniversary\n of the house of Rouen was lately celebrated, the old woman who\n had been the first pensioner was crowned as the queen of the\n day, and her lowly seat decked with flowers, whilst her aged\n companions cheered her with the heartiest good will.\n\n{708}\n\n \"The tender regard with which the Sisters cherish the poor on\n whom they wait, calls forth the best feelings of their hearts,\n so long dead to every human charity. They respond by the most\n refreshing cordiality; but truly hearts could not resist the\n winning kindness with which they are invariably treated. One\n little incident may illustrate how above all selfish\n considerations the law of kindness prevails: One old woman was\n anxious to be received among the 'Little Sisters' somewhere in\n France. Her case well deserved the privilege, but the old woman\n insisted on bringing also into the house her hen and her\n sparrow. Without these companions, she would not enter; she\n would rather forego the advantage offered to her. The old\n woman, her hen, and her sparrow were all admitted together,\n anything rather than lose an opportunity of doing good.\n\n \"Selfishness cannot long exist where such examples of\n self-denial are ever present in these Sisters. They take the\n worst of everything for themselves. Even in the longest\n established houses there are no chairs except for the old\n people; the Sisters 'sit upon their heels.' A Jesuit father, on\n one day visiting one of the houses, found the Sisters just\n sitting down to dinner. They had nothing to drink out of but\n odd and broken vessels, mustard-pots, jam-pots, etc.; all in\n such a dilapidated condition that the good father hastened off\n the very first penitent, who came to him for confession, with\n an injunction to buy a dozen of glasses and send them to the\n house of his '_Petites Sceurs_.' Such is their voluntary\n poverty!\n\n \"Every time a house is opened, so soon as a sufficient number\n of poor are collected, a retreat is preached. The fruits of\n these retreats, in those who have been so long absent from the\n sacraments, is wonderful. Thus the house is furnished with\n those who serve to set a good example to all those who are\n afterward admitted.\n\n \"Nothing can exceed the gratitude of these poor creatures when\n reconciled with God. They embrace the Sisters with tears. 'It\n is seventy-five years since I drew near to God,' said one; 'and\n now I am going to receive him to-morrow.' A poor barber who had\n lost the use of his hands through rheumatism, and, being unable\n to exercise his profession, had fallen into such a state of\n destitution that he was thankful to accept an asylum in one of\n the houses of the 'Little Sisters,' was observed, after his\n confession, to be looking at his hands. 'What are you doing?'\n was asked of him. 'I am looking at the finger of God,' he\n replied. This spirit of resignation and gratitude is nearly\n universal, and the Sisters are not without their consolation\n even in this world.\"\n\nTo the special ministry of the Sisterhoods of Charity have been\nassigned the sick, infirm, and aged poor, whom all regard as\nproper objects of relief and pious care. We have shown, in our\nOctober number, how well they satisfied alike the Christian and\nthe economic need. Mrs. Jameson, in the work there referred to,\n[Footnote 273] has strongly contrasted the conditions of the\n\"English workhouse system\" (which is the same as ours) with the\nreligious management not only of the sick-poor, but also of the\ncriminal and most degraded classes. Take, for instance, the\nAustrian prison at Neudorf. This prison is an experiment which as\nyet had only had a three years' trial when Mrs. Jameson visited\nit, but had already succeeded so well, both morally and\neconomically, that the Austrian government was preparing to\norganize eleven others on the same plan. It began by the efforts\nof two humane ladies to find a refuge for those wretched\ncreatures of their own sex who, after undergoing their term of\npunishment, were cast out of the prisons. They obtained the aid\nof two Sisters of a religious order in France, devoted to the\nreformation of lost and depraved women. Government soon enlarged\ntheir sphere of action, and confided to them the administration\nof a prison, penitentiary, and hospital, with several buildings\nand a large garden.\n\n [Footnote 273: _Sisters of Charity, Catholic and Protestant_.]\n\n \"In its management, I found more than two hundred criminals,\n separated into three classes. The first class consisted of\n desperate characters, the refuse of the prisons at Vienna, who\n are brought under a strong armed guard, bound hand and foot.\n Their appearance was either stupid, gross, and vacant or\n frightful from the predominance of evil propensities. The\n second class, drafted from the first, were called the\n penitents, and showed, in the expression of their countenances,\n an extraordinary change from the newly arrived. They were\n allowed to assist in the house, to cook and to wash, and to\n work in the garden, which last was a great boon. There were\n more than fifty of these, and they were, at least, humanized.\n The third class were the voluntaries who, when their term had\n expired, preferred remaining in the house and were allowed to\n do so. Part of the profit of their work was retained for their\n benefit.\n\n{709}\n\n \"Twelve women, aided by three chaplains, a surgeon, and a\n physician, none of whom resided in the establishment, managed\n the whole. They had dismissed the soldiers and police-officers,\n finding that they needed no other means of constraint than\n their dignity, good sense, patience, and tenderness. There was\n as much of frightful physical disease as there was of moral\n disease, crime, and misery. Two Sisters acted as chief nurses\n and apothecaries. The ventilation and cleanliness were perfect.\n When I expressed my astonishment that so small a number of\n women could manage such a set of wild and wicked creatures, the\n answer was, 'If we want assistance, we shall have it; but it is\n as easy with our system to manage three hundred as one hundred\n or as fifty. The power is not in ourselves, it is granted from\n above.' Here men and women were acting together; and in all the\n regulations, religious and sanitary, there was mutual aid,\n mutual respect, and interchange of experience; but the Sisters\n were subordinate only to the chief civil and ecclesiastical\n authorities; the internal administration rested with them.\"\n\nThe \"Little Sisters of the Poor\" have inspired the following\nremarks, which apply to many other orders actively engaged in\nworks of charity:\n\n \"Their records demonstrate that religious institutions do,\n effectually and cheaply, what the clumsy and lifeless machinery\n of the state does at an enormous cost and peril, with a very\n questionable preponderance of gain over loss. Charity is a\n religious work, and these orders are specially qualified, as\n religious, to lead the charity of the country; they have a\n special vocation and a supernatural aim; they unite the\n strongest motives for individual exertion with the highest\n development of the co-operative system; they are free from the\n impediments of other parties; what they give establishes no\n legal or political right, yet it recognizes a moral claim and\n provides for a human want. In addressing the statesmen of this\n country, we can prove that one thousand dollars a year, thus\n wisely spent in well-organized charity, goes twice as far as\n two thousand dollars a year spent with a blundering alternation\n of prodigality and cruelty, such as characterizes the\n management of our secular charities. Organic bodies contain\n within themselves a principle of endless adaptation. The\n church, herself an organic body, is the fruitful mother of all\n such organizations as the moral needs of man require; nor is\n there any reason to doubt that she can help the modern pauper\n as readily as the captives, the lepers, and the laborers in\n mines for whom her mediaeval orders worked. The recent\n institution of the 'Little Sisters of the Poor' derives a\n peculiar interest from the mode in which it approaches that\n special trial of modern society, pauperism, and it may, with\n the divine blessing, advance from its present humble beginning\n to enterprises which, alike on the ground of theology and of\n sound political economy, are beyond the efforts of the most\n beneficent governments now existing.\"\n\nThe gospels abundantly attest the loving and tender behavior of\nChrist toward the poor and the afflicted of every class. It is\nimportant to note how lively and loyal is the tradition of this\nconduct in the Christian church, from its earliest periods to our\nown day. It was a favorite turn in the mediaeval legends of\ncharity that our Lord should reveal himself, even in the body, to\nthose who had, for his love, consoled some poor object of\ncompassion. It is written of St. Elizabeth, Queen of Hungary,\nthat she kept always near her, and herself served, thirteen sick\npoor, in memory of Christ and the twelve apostles.\n\n \"Among the sick was a poor little leper named Helias, whose\n condition was so deplorable that no one would take charge of\n him. Elizabeth, seeing him thus abandoned by all, felt herself\n bound to do more for him than for any other; she took and\n bathed him herself, anointed him with a healing balm, and then\n laid him in the bed, even that which she shared with her royal\n husband. Now it happened that the duke returned to the castle\n whilst Elizabeth was thus occupied. His mother ran out\n immediately to meet him, and when he alighted she said, 'Come\n with me, dear son, and I will show thee a pretty doing of thy\n Elizabeth.' 'What does this mean?' said the duke. 'Only come,'\n said she, 'and thou wilt see one she loves much better than\n thee.' Then, taking him by the hand, she led him to his chamber\n and to his bed, and said to him, Now look, dear son, thy wife\n puts lepers in thy bed without my being able to prevent her.\n{710}\n She wishes to give thee leprosy, thou seest it thyself.' On\n hearing these words, the duke could not repress a certain\n degree of irritation, and he quickly raised the covering of\n his bed; but, at the same moment, the Most High unsealed the\n eyes of his soul, and, in place of the leper, he saw the\n figure of Jesus Christ crucified extended on his bed. At this\n sight he remained motionless, as did his mother, and began to\n shed abundant tears without being able at first to utter a\n word. Then, turning round, he saw his wife, who had gently\n followed in order to calm his wrath against the leper.\n 'Elizabeth,' said he, 'my dear, good sister, I pray thee often\n to give my bed to such guests. I shall always thank thee for\n this, and be thou not hindered by any one in the exercise of\n thy virtue.' Then he knelt and prayed thus to God, 'Lord, have\n mercy upon me a poor sinner. I am not worthy to see all these\n wonders.'\" [Footnote 274]\n\n [Footnote 274: Montalembert, _Life of St. Elizabeth_.]\n\nFor the many illustrations of the wonderful diffusion of\nbenevolence in the early ages of the Christian church, in\ncontrast with the truculent spirit of the contemporaneous\npaganism, see Rev. Dr. Manahan's _Triumph of the Catholic\nChurch_, etc.\n\nWe recall here the mention of John, Patriarch of Alexandria, who\nasked of his clergy a register of all the poor and destitute in\nthat city. \"Go,\" said he, \"and get me a full list of my masters.\"\n\nFrom the Theodosian code, it appears that the church owned large\nvessels, employed either in bringing to some dioceses provisions\nfor their own flocks, or in sending help to the most afflicted\ncommunities, from Egypt even unto Gaul.\n\n\"The Cenobites, or Monks of the Desert,\" says St. Augustine,\n\"used to freight these ships of charity with grain, obtained by\nthem in exchange for the mats and baskets which they\nmanufactured.\" The vast hospital, founded by St. Basil, of\nCappadocia, near Caesarea, is called by St. Gregory\" a new city\nbuilt for the sick and poor.\"\n\nHospitals were so great an innovation on the customs of the\nancient classic world, that the Emperor Julian, surnamed \"The\nApostate,\" tried in vain to introduce them. Repelling the\nChristian doctrine, he was sensible of the influence of Christian\ncharity, and would fain have engrafted on the pagan stock this\nfruit of another dispensation.\n\nWhy are the poor and afflicted especially given in charge to the\nchurch, and why does the Christian see them with quite other eyes\nthan those of mere benevolence? Why is Christ identified, in his\nbirth and companionship, with the poor? Why are the most\nsuffering classes the first objects of his care and mediation?\n\nIf it is written that \"He who shall give to one of my disciples\nonly so much as a cup of cold water in my name, shall not lose\nhis reward,\" it is also written that the hungry, the thirsty, the\nstranger, the naked, the sick, the prisoner, are all our brethren\nin Christ. It is by virtue of that susceptibility, which the\nexercise of charity develops in us, that we become consciously\n\"members one of another in the body of Christ.\"\n\nJesus Christ came to awaken in humanity a conscience including\nour neighbor, a conservative instinct embracing the relations of\nthe individual with the species, unlimited by family, clan, or\nnation; and which transcends the analysis of a Malthus, a Locke,\nor a La Rochefoucauld. [Footnote 275]\n\n [Footnote 275: That Sister of the Poor, whom you pass in the\n street with her basket, and perhaps look down upon as on a\n creature of inferior grade, is living closer to the heart of\n universal love, is deeper in celestial wisdom than the proud\n philosopher; leads a life more heroic in its abnegation and\n humility than the general with his bloody laurels. This is\n so, because the divine influx of life moulds the will and the\n affections, and moves the bowels of compassion long before\n the brain matures its schemes of action.]\n\n{711}\n\nThe suffering persons or classes are the atoms, the organs, or\nthe local points where the life of humanity is threatened or\ncompromised; thither, with unwonted energy, must its vital\nresources be directed; and how directed? Here we find the\ncontrast between the spirit of Christ and that of pagan or\nschismatic countries. Ignoring the true unity of man, paganism\nmerely suppressed the effects of misery by suppressing the person\nof the miserable. It did not consider that the spirit of cruelty,\ndeveloped or encouraged in this elimination, is itself a living\ncause and propagator of human misery. Religious sympathy alone\ncould quicken the intelligence to this perception, and find\nsomething precious in the life of the wretch rescued from his\nwretchedness; find beneath the rags, the dirt, and the chains,\nbeneath ignorance, the vices, and diseases, that \"a man's a man\nfor a' that.\" Again, Christianity discerned precious discipline\nof virtue in the exercise of charity, and practised it no less\nfor the sake of the giver than that of the receiver. This is a\npractical commentary on the axiom of human unity or solidarity,\nanticipating the fuller light which may be expected from a\nknowledge of our ulterior destinies.\n\nWherever the church has nobly filled her part as the social\nconscience of Christendom, (a function for which the confessional\nso well adapts her,) she has been the intelligent mediator\nbetween those who need to give or to serve, and those who are\nreally in need; she has maintained a social equilibrium while\naverting the jealousies and hatreds of classes, and by her\nenlightened and judicious distribution has prevented charity from\nministering to vices and imposture.\n\n\"The _poor_ ye shall have always with you.\" The worst\nprejudices only will interpret this saying of our Lord so as to\ndiscourage our efforts to eliminate, from the condition of the\npoor, its actual vices, disgraces, and miseries. This once\neffected by means, the success of which experience has verified,\nthere remains an honorable poverty due to the disinterested\ndevotions of science, art, and social affections, in which the\nlove of our neighbor, under divers forms, absorbs cupidity and\nthe cares of self-preservation. The church has always encouraged\nvows of voluntary poverty, and directed the zeal which animated\nthem to Christian uses. She has permitted the rich to expiate\ntheir crimes by sharing their fortunes with the poor, even by\nsoliciting alms for them; and we are told that Roman nobles have\nbeen seen, during this very year, thus begging in the streets of\nRome. To a noble poverty belong the first years, and often the\nwhole life, of the inventor, of the true artist, of all whose\noriginality of conception or fidelity to the ideal transcends\nprudential economy. We may glance but in passing at that\n\"Bohemia,\" where floating wrecks mingle in disorder with germinal\nforces of the social future. In proportion as the constitution of\nsocieties shall be perfected in kind and useful labors, those in\nwhose characters friendship predominates, whether attached to\nholy orders like the Trappists and Sisters of Charity, or simply\nmembers of the church of Christ, will content themselves with the\ncommon _minimum_, and work in their elected spheres without\ncare for any other material compensation. To such has Christ\nsaid: \"Take no care what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink, or\nwherewithal ye shall be clothed,\" etc. \"Consider the lilies,\"\netc. We shall not confound these noble poor with paupers, a term\nwhich comprehends indifferently the victims of misfortune, of\nvice, and of disease; deficient in faculties either corporeal or\nmental, or in consistency of purpose, principle, and will.\n{712}\n_Pauperism_ is not to be regarded as a state of suffering to\nwhich the Christian should be resigned; far from being an\nexpiation of sin, it is not only humiliation, but degradation and\nperversion, and owes its parasite existence to the absence or\ndecline of Christian life.\n\nThe Catholic Church commenced an exterminating war on pauperism\nin those fraternal associations which sprang from the breath of\nthe Saviour, and which its religious orders have never\nintermitted. Disbanded by the persecutions of the Roman empire,\nthey rallied to works of charity; and, gradually obtaining\nspiritual ascendency over Europe, organized agriculture and the\narts of peace. In the sixth century, the Benedictines and\nColumbans reclaimed the soils of Europe from their wilderness,\nand their peoples from the worst of barbarism.\n\nThe monasteries and convents, considered from the point of view\nof political and social economy, were agricultural, scientific,\nand domestic associations, with fields, gardens, and orchards,\nlibraries, laboratories, and workshops, provided with all the\nmeans and facilities known in their age and country for the\nsubjection of nature's resources to the progressive evolution of\nhumanity. Fusing the nobles and the people, absorbing, in the\nsentiment of our common fatherhood in God and brotherhood in\nChrist, the invidious distinctions of caste, reconciling again in\ntheir administration the behests of spiritual culture with the\nexigencies of material existence and refinement of taste in\nletters and the arts, the monastic orders were for Christendom a\nmost benign providence. Their charities never have been limited\nto the necessities of mere subsistence, like the secular dolings\nout of _so-called_ modern charity. Hearts must respond to\nthe needs of hearts, and brains to those of brains; in other\nwords, the organization of Christian charity essentially embraces\nsocial life and education, intellectual and moral culture, as\nwell as the conditions of labor, of remuneration, of lodging, of\nclothing, and nourishment, comprised in the guarantee of access\nto the soil. By separating the material from the spiritual\nelements of charity, Christendom retrogrades into paganism; less\nbrutal, less ferocious, the economic (?) workhouse system is\ncolder and still more inhuman than those methods of summary\ndestruction by which Greece removed her supernumerary helots, or\nRome her infirm poor.\n\n \"It is not without a mingled shame and fear,\" says Mrs.\n Jameson, of the English workhouse, \"that I approach this\n subject. Whatever their arrangement and condition, in one thing\n I found all alike--the want of a proper moral supervision.\n\n \"The most vulgar of human beings are set to rule over the most\n vulgar; the pauper is set to manage the pauper; the ignorant\n govern the ignorant; every softening or elevating influence is\n absent or of rare occurrence, and every hardening and depraving\n influence continuous or ever at hand. Never did I visit any\n dungeon, any abode of crime or misery, in any country, which\n left me the same crushing sense of sorrow, indignation, and\n compassion--almost despair--as some of our English workhouses.\n Never did I see more clearly what must be the inevitable\n consequences where the feminine and religious influences are\n ignored; where what we call charity is worked by a stern, hard\n machinery; where what we mean for good is not bestowed but\n inflicted on others in a spirit not pitiful, nor merciful, but\n reluctant and adverse, if not cruel. Perhaps those who hear me\n may not all be aware of the origin of our parish workhouses.\n They were not designed as penitentiaries, although they have\n really become such. They were intended to be religious and\n charitable institutions, to supply the place of those\n conventual hospitals and charities which, with their revenues,\n were suppressed by Henry VIII.\n\n{713}\n\n \"The epithet 'charitable' could never be applied to any parish\n workhouse I have seen. Our machine-charity is as much charity,\n in the Christian sense, as the praying-machines of the Tartars\n are piety.\n\n \"These institutions are supported by a variable tax, paid so\n reluctantly, with so little sympathy in its purpose, that the\n wretched paupers seem to be regarded as a sort of parish\n locusts, sent to devour the substance of the rate-payers; as\n the natural enemies of those who are taxed for their\n subsistence, almost as criminals; and I have no hesitation in\n saying that the convicts in some of our jails have more\n charitable and more respectful treatment than the poor in our\n workhouses. Hence, a notion prevails among the working-classes\n that it is better to be a criminal than a pauper--better to go\n to a jail than to a workhouse.\n\n \"Between the poor and their so-called guardians, the bond is\n anything but charity.\n\n \"A gentleman who had served the office said to me: 'I am really\n unfit to be a poor-law guardian; I have some vestige of\n humanity left in me!' Under these guardians, and in immediate\n contact with the poor, are a master and a matron, who keep the\n accounts, distribute food and clothing, and keep order. Among\n them some are respected and loved, others hated or feared; some\n are kindly and intelligent, others of the lowest grade. In one\n workhouse the master had been a policeman, in another the\n keeper of a small public-house, in another he had served in the\n same workhouse as porter. The subordinates are not of a higher\n grade, except occasionally the school-master and\n school-mistress, whom I have sometimes found struggling to\n perform their duties, sometimes quite unfitted for them, and\n sometimes resigned to routine and despair.\n\n \"In the wards for the old and the sick, the intense vulgarity,\n the melancholy dulness, mingled with a strange license and\n levity, are dreadful. I attribute both to the utter absence of\n the religious and feminine element.\n\n \"But is there not always a chaplain? The chaplain has seemed to\n me in such places rather a religious accident than a religious\n element. When he visits a ward to read and pray once a week,\n perhaps there is a decorum in his presence; the oaths, the\n curses, the vile language cease; the vulgar strife is silenced,\n to recommence the moment his back is turned. I remember one\n instance in which the chaplain had requested that the poor,\n profligate women might be kept out of his way. They had,\n indeed, shown themselves somewhat obstreperous and irreverent.\n I saw another chaplain of a great workhouse so shabby that I\n should have mistaken him for one of the paupers. In doing his\n duty, he would fling a surplice over his dirty, torn coat,\n kneel down at the entrance of a ward, hurry over two or three\n prayers, heard from the few beds nearest to him, and then off\n to another ward. The salary for this minister for the sick and\n poor was twenty pounds a year. This, then, is the religious\n element; as if religion were not the necessary, inseparable,\n ever-present, informing spirit of a Christian charitable\n institution, but rather something extraneous and accidental, to\n be taken in set doses at set times. This is what our workhouses\n provide to awaken the faith, rouse the conscience, heal the\n broken spirit, and light up the stupefied faculties of a\n thousand unhappy, ignorant, debased human beings congregated\n together.\n\n \"Then as to the feminine element in a great and well-ordered\n workhouse, under conscientious management, (to take a favorable\n specimen,) I visited sixteen wards, in each ward from fifteen\n to twenty-five sick, aged, bedridden, or helpless poor. In each\n ward all the assistance given and all the supervision were in\n the hands of one nurse and a helper, both chosen from among the\n pauper women supposed to be the least immoral and drunken. The\n ages of the nurses might be from sixty-five to eighty years;\n the assistants were younger.\n\n \"The number of inmates under medical treatment in the year 1854\n in the London workhouses was over 50,000, (omitting one, the\n Marylebone.) To these there were 70 paid nurses and 500 pauper\n nurses and assistants, (not more than one fifth of the number\n requisite for effective nursing, even if they were all able\n nurses.)\n\n \"As the unpaid pauper nurses have some additional allowance of\n tea or beer, it is not unusual for the medical attendant to\n send such poor feeble old women as require some little\n indulgence to be nurses in the sick wards.\"\n\nSuch is the standard of qualification, and as for their\nassistants, Mrs. Jameson found some of them nearly blind and\nothers maimed of a limb. She remembers no cheerful faces; their\nfeatures and deportment were melancholy, or sullen, or bloated,\nor harsh, and these are the nurses to whom the sick poor are\nconfided!\n\n{714}\n\n \"In one workhouse the nurses had a penny a week and extra beer;\n in another the allowance had been a shilling a month, but\n recently withdrawn by the guardians from motives of economy.\n The matron told me that while this allowance continued, she\n could exercise some control over the nurses, she could stop\n their allowance if they did not behave well; now she has no\n hold on them! They all drink. Whenever it is their turn to go\n out for a few hours, they come back intoxicated, and have to be\n put to bed in the wards they are set over!\"\n\nMrs. Jameson speaks of bribery as the only means by which some of\nthe bedridden patients could obtain help.\n\n \"Any little extra allowance of tea or sugar, left by pitying\n friends, went in this way. One nurse made five shillings a week\n by thus fleecing the poor inmates. Those who could not pay this\n tax were neglected, and implored in vain to be turned in their\n beds. The matron knows that these things exist, but has no\n power to prevent them; she knows not what tyranny may be\n exercised in her absence by her deputies, for the wretched\n creatures dare not complain, knowing how it would be visited\n upon them.\"\n\nIn some workhouses many who can work will not; in others the\ninmates are confined to such labor as is degrading, such as is a\npunishment in prisons, which excites no faculty of attention, or\nhope, or sympathy, which contemplates no improvement, namely,\npicking oakum, etc., and this lest there should exist some kind\nof competition injurious to tradesmen.\n\nAs to the \"out-door relief\" at certain workhouses, Mrs. Jameson\nsays it was distributed to creatures penned up for hours in foul\nair, who waited sullenly for the bread doled out with curses. She\ncomplains again here of the system which brings a brutal and\nvulgar power to bear on vulgarity or brutality, the bad and\ndefective organization to bear on one bad and defective, \"so you\nincrease and multiply and excite, as in a hot-bed, all the\nmaterial of evil instead of neutralizing it with good, and, thus\nleavened, you turn it out on society to contaminate all around.\"\n\nRev. J. S. Brewer, a workhouse chaplain, in his lectures to\nladies on practical subjects, writes of the insensible influence\nwhich the mere presence of ladies, their voice, their common\nwords, their ordinary manners, their thoughts, all that they\ncarry unconsciously about them, can exercise on the poor; but\nthis applies to real ladies, cultivated, gentle, well-born,\nwell-bred. There are no people more alive to gentle blood and\ngentle manners than the English poor. He confirms in other\nrespects the preceding remarks of Mrs. Jameson, and says of the\nchildren:\n\n \"The disorderly girls and boys of our streets are mainly the\n produce of the workhouse and the workhouse schools. Over them\n the society has no hold, because they have been taught to feel\n that they have nothing in common with their fellow-men. Their\n experience is not of a home or parents, but of a workhouse and\n a governor, of a prison and of a jailer.\"\n\nNature exhibits two contrasted methods for controlling that\n_tendency to increase of population beyond a due proportion to\nthe means of subsistence_, which seems to justify in the eyes\nof some political economists the partial destruction of the\nspecies by war. One of these methods is extermination; the other,\nelevation. Malthus says, in substance: I would share all my\nhaving with the poor. I would proclaim this the duty of the rich,\nwere it possible, by even enforcing and continuing the most\nliberal distribution of goods, while all were working faithfully\nto increase the yield of the earth as fast as the mouths that\nconsume it would multiply; but extensive observation and\nexperience proves that, the easier life is made for the poor, the\nfaster they increase; this increase is at a ratio so much greater\nthan the means of subsistence are capable of reaching, that we\nshould soon be all paupers unless we restrain each local\npopulation within the ratio of its provisions.\n\n{715}\n\nMalthus understood that high-toned character and uncommon force\nof will were essential to the perfection of such restraint. He\ninvokes the influence of the church and of education to this\neffect. One step further, however, in the filiation of ideas\nwould have led him to perceive a supreme harmony in the\nequilibrium between population and subsistence, arising out of\nthe perfection of organic types and individual characters; so\nthat _quality is the cure of quantity_.\n\nIf it be true, as travellers affirm, that in Europe the\n_temperate_ are divided from the _intemperate\npopulations_ by a curve which, commencing at the eastern\nextremity of France, intersects Berlin and terminates at\nSevastopol, being the northern limit of the vine-growing\ncountries; then, _a fortiori_, will the greatest temperance\nbe found among peoples whose refinement not only rejects\ndistilled liquors but the coarser qualities of wine, and will\nhave either the very best or none.\n\nThis law is universal. Compare the order of mammifers, a high\ntype like man or the elephant, with a low type like the rabbit or\nmouse. Species are more prolific with each grade in their\ndescent. Now compare the order of mammifers with the order of\nfishes, passing through the birds and reptiles, embracing all\nvertebrate animals; still the lower are more prolific, and\nconsequently more subject to destruction. Now compare the\nvertebrate type with the insect, passing through the articulate.\nStill the same increase of numerical ratio down the scale of\nlife; and when we reach polyps and plants, every section, every\nbud, may become a complete organism, and multiplication takes\nplace by several methods at once--seeds, tubers, roots, suckers,\nbuds, etc. Follow this law in the science of breeding. Even among\nfish, the fat and well-conditioned breed but slowly, and \"ponds\nof misery\" are kept for breeding carps. The history of the\n_turf_ verifies similar facts in the physiology of the\nhorse.\n\nWe no longer wonder that the hovels of the suffering poor should\nswarm with children; but the analogies of the animal kingdom\nencourage us to believe that social and industrial procedures,\nwhich convert these children into Christians and launch them in\nthe path of a general prosperity, will itself tend to reduce the\nratio of their increase by a method more expedient than those of\nwar, pestilence, or famine.\n\nIn conclusion: If the first of these natural methods of checking\npopulation be adapted to the world of the _fall_--a world of\nselfishness and sin--the other method is adapted to the world of\nthe redemption--a world of Christian co-operation and love of our\nneighbor. By the first method, population is reduced so\neffectively that the most agreeable portions of the earth's\nsurface remain almost untouched by human culture. When, by the\ntriumph of true religion, wars and their consequences cease to\nvex humanity, population may increase until it covers the area of\nthe habitable globe, without danger of starving itself, without\nsinking into pauperism. The numerical population of the world may\nincrease while its actual ratio of propagation is diminished, and\nis harmonized with its capacity of production. Such is the logic\nof charity, which in relieving suffering aims at the spiritual\nelevation of character and the permanent protection of mankind.\n\n ----------\n\n{716}\n\n New Publications.\n\n\n History Of Louisiana: The American Domination.\n By Charles Gayarr\u00e9.\n New York: William J. Widdleton. 1866.\n\nThis is a handsome 8vo volume of 693 pages, of which 250 are\ndevoted to the story of the defence of New Orleans by General\nJackson, and 60 pages to a sketch of leading public events from\n1816 to 1861. The first chapter opens thus:\n\n \"On the 20th of December, 1803, the colony of Louisiana had\n passed from the domination of Spain into that of the United\n States of America, to which it was delivered by France after a\n short possession of twenty days, as I have related in a former\n work,\" (_History of Louisiana, Spanish Domination_.)\n\nIt is to be regretted, we think, that this relation of the\ncession is not given in the volume before us. The causes, the\nantecedents, the inevitable necessity of the cession, are all\npractically American, and, therefore properly the subject for the\nopening chapter of the \"American Domination.\"\n\nWe have not seen Mr. Gayarr\u00e9's preceding volume, but presume he\nhas well told the story of the cession. It is an interesting one.\nMartin's _History of Louisiana_ was very meagre on that\npoint, and gave, if we remember correctly, little else than the\ntext of the treaty. True, Martin's book was completed some forty\nyears ago, when the author had not at hand the materials that now\nexist. Barb\u00e9 Marbois's work was not then published.\n\nThe \"American Domination,\" we venture to suggest, should have\nopened with at least a sketch or _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of the state of\nfacts immediately preceding the cession--the condition of trade\nbetween the Upper Mississippi and New Orleans, the order of\nMorales, (October, 1802) closing the river, the supposition\nthroughout the West that the action of Morales was authorized by\nthe French government, the excitement caused by it, etc. etc.\n\nThe Mississippi to be closed!\n\nIt would be difficult at this day to convey an idea of the\nconsternation and indignant anger of the inhabitants of the Ohio\nand Mississippi valleys at the announcement. The country was in a\nblaze of excitement. Meetings were held, resolutions passed, and,\nwhat was more significant, rifles were repaired, powder\npurchased, and knives sharpened.\n\nWhen Germany, a few years since, sang and shouted\n\n \"Sie sollen ihn nicht haben,\n den freien Deutschen Rhein,\"\n\nwar may or may not have been imminent; but when the hunters of\nKentucky and the backwoodsmen of Ohio swore, as they picked their\nflint-locks, \"They sha'n't have the Mississippi!\" the oath meant\nbusiness. In their eyes the free navigation of the Father of\nWaters is a part of every Western man's heritage, [Footnote 276]\nand when he clears a farm in the great valley, the right freely\nto carry his produce down to the mouth of the Mississippi is to\nhim simply what the lawyers would call an _easement_,\npassing with the title to his acres.\n\n [Footnote 276: \"No power in the world shall deprive us of\n this right.\"--_Petition to Congress_.]\n\nProminent on Mr. Gayarr\u00e9's pages stands out the figure of\nClaiborne, Governor of Louisiana from 1804 to 1816. We rise from\nthe perusal of Mr. Gayarr\u00e9's book with a higher estimate than\never of this distinguished man.\n\nCalm, prudent, wise, temperate, and magnanimous, Claiborne is one\nof the most admirable characters in American history.\n\n{717}\n\nWhen a virulent libel was published against him, on which the\nattorney-general thought it his duty to institute suit, Claiborne\nwrote him a noble letter requesting him to stop the prosecution,\n(p. 227.) \"An officer whose hands and motives are pure,\" he said,\n\"has nothing to fear from newspaper detraction, or the invectives\nof angry and deluded individuals. My conduct in life is the best\nanswer I can return to my enemies. It is before the public, and\nhas secured, and will, I am certain, continue to secure me the\nesteem and confidence of that portion of society whose\napprobation is desirable to an honest man. The lie of the day\ngives me no concern. Neglected calumny soon expires; notice it,\nand you gratify your calumniators; prosecute it, and it acquires\nconsequence; punish it, and you enlist in its favor the public\nsympathy.\"\n\nThe story of the heroic defence of Fort Bowyer is well and\nspiritedly told by Mr. Gayarr\u00e9, and that of the defence of New\nOrleans, in the various skirmishes and battles that for weeks\npreceded the grand culminating victory of January 8th, is, for\nthe first time, clear and intelligible to us. Here Mr. Gayarr\u00e9\ngives us several pages of nervous and picturesque writing. His\ndescription of \"the night before the battle,\" and of the brave\nbut disastrous charge of the British troops upon the American\nline, is excellent in spirit and in detail.\n\nMr. Gayarr\u00e9 explodes the popular story of the cotton-bale\nfortifications. There were none. \"Some bales of cotton had been\nused to form the cheeks of the embrasures of our batteries, and\nnotwithstanding the popular tradition that our breastworks were\nlined with it, this was the only one,\" etc. etc. (p. 456.)\n\nThe account of the two colored battalions which rendered such\nexcellent service is interesting, as also Mr. Gayarr\u00e9's comments\non the celebrated British countersign of \"Beauty and Booty.\"\n\nMr. Gayarr\u00e9's history closes with a long paragraph, somewhat in\nthe same dithyrambic vein that marks the pages of his first\nvolume of Louisiana. He has, however, greatly improved both in\nstyle and judicious arrangement of matter, and, combining many of\nthe best qualities of the historian with great aptitude of\nresearch and study, has undoubtedly made a mark in literature,\nhis state may well be proud of, even though she be amenable to\nthe reproach conveyed by the author at page 391.\n\nIt appears that, in 1814, Governor Claiborne advised one David\nMcGee in regard to some literary work of the latter: \"A love of\nletters has not yet gained an ascendency in Louisiana, and I\nwould advise you to seek for your production the patronage of\nsome one of the Northern cities.\"\n\n\"How bitter,\" comments Mr. Gayarr\u00e9, \"is the thought that it is\ntrue! How hard it is for the veracity of the Southern historian\nto admit that, even in 1864, a judicious and frank adviser would\nbe compelled to say to a man of letters, in the language used by\nClaiborne in 1814, \"I would advise you to seek for your\nproduction the patronage of some one of the Northern cities\"!\n\n ----\n\n Memorials Of Those Who Suffered For The Faith In Ireland\n in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and Eighteenth Centuries.\n By Myles O'Reilly, B.A., LL.D.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society.\n 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 462.\n\nAn elegant volume, containing biographies of the martyrs of the\nReformation in Ireland, which we intend to notice at length in a\nfuture number.\n\n ----\n\n Lectures On The Life, Writings, And Times Of Edmund Burke.\n By J. B. Robertson, Esq.\n London: John Philp.\n For sale by the Catholic Publication Society,\n 126 Nassau Street, New York.\n\n{718}\n\nIn this volume, Professor Robertson, as an extremely conservative\nmonarchist, and as an enthusiastic admirer of what he calls the\n\"old temperate monarchy,\" best typified in modern politics by the\ngovernment of England, the native land of the lecturer, treats of\nthe history of the life, writings, and times of Edmund Burke, the\nmost illustrious Irishman of the eighteenth century, and, in\npurely civil affairs of all times, from a monarchical point of\nview; and makes his lectures, which he seems to have designed for\na biography of the greatest of British orators and statesmen,\nreally the medium of an exposition of his own peculiar doctrines\nand opinions in the political relation, with such incidental\nnotices of the immortal Burke as were deemed pertinent to the\nillustration and enforcement of the political speculations of the\ngifted lecturer, who appears to live and move in utter awe of\n\"the spirit of revolution,\" and in utter detestation of \"the\nsovereignty of the people\" and of \"the republic.\" The book is of\nvalue chiefly as showing how the complex affairs known as\nconstituting the modern world are viewed by an Englishman of fine\nculture, eloquent expression, and very conservative instincts and\nsympathies.\n\nThe book is got out in Mr. Philp's best style; the paper, type,\nand binding are faultless.\n\n ----\n\n Sadlier's Catholic Directory, Almanac, And Ordo,\n for the year of our Lord 1869.\n\nThis work is published in the same style as heretofore, and is,\nwe presume, about as correct as can be expected of such a\npublication. There is one improvement, however, which\n_could_ be made at the expense of _one cent_ a copy,\nnamely, to sew the book instead of _stitching_ it. The way\nit is now bound, several pages are defaced by the large holes\npunched through the book.\n\n ----\n\n A Practical And Theoretical Method\n Of Learning The French Language.\n By A. Biarnois.\n D. & J. Sadlier & Co. 1868.\n\nOf all the systems hitherto devised to facilitate the study of\nthe French language, and at the same time offer to the student a\nmethod which, in its development, will prove attractive to him,\nwe are inclined to think the present one by M. Biarnois is in\nmany respects to be preferred.\n\nThe idea in the invention of most of the modern systems is a good\none: to give the pupil words and phrases before he is taught the\nrules for their grammatical construction. This is the design\nproposed by our author, and after an introductory article on\npronunciation he gives us at once a sentence.\n\n \"On nous dit que le Sultan Mahmoud, par ses\n guerres perp\u00e9tuelles, au dehors et sa tyrannie\n \u00e0 l'int\u00e9rieur, avait rempli les\n \u00e9tats de ses anc\u00eatres de mine et de desolation;\n et avait d\u00e9peupl\u00e9, l'Empire Persan.\"\n\nThis sentence is thoroughly analyzed, which gives him occasion to\nexplain:\n 1. Transposition and contractions of pronouns.\n 2. The gender and number of substantives.\n 3. Formation of the feminine of adjectives.\n 4. Of the plural of adjectives.\n 5. Place, elision, and contraction of the article.\n 6. Forms of negation.\n 7. Possessive pronouns.\n 8. Possessive, demonstrative, and indefinite\n adjectives, with many grammatical\n relations of all these.\n\nThis is followed by an original set of rules to find French words\nto express what we know in English, how to form verbs out of\nsubstantives, and to determine, without a dictionary, the\nconjugation to which each of these verbs belongs.\n\nAgain we have more phrases, accompanied by running explanatory\nnotes, and the whole couched in a familiar conversational style\nwhich cannot fail of fixing the attention and impressing the\nmemory of the student.\n\nThe latter half of the work, under the title Recapitulation,\ntakes up the parts of speech in more regular order.\n\nWe confess that for young beginners we would prefer a certain\namount of study in the admirable work of Dr. Emile Otto, as\nrevised by Mr. Ferdinand B\u00f4cher for English students, before\ntaking up the method of M. Biarnois. The latter supposes a\nconsiderable advance in the knowledge of the English language,\nand he is compelled at the very outset to make use of words and\nphrases which, to youthful pupils, might need explanation fully\nas much as the corresponding ones in French. But for students in\nour colleges, who have already some notion of English or Latin\ngrammar, we think this grammar of M. Biarnois is one of the best,\nand in many respects better than any that have come under our\nnotice.\n\n ----\n\n{719}\n\n Tobacco And Alcohol.\n I. It Does Pay To Smoke\n II. The Coming Man Will Drink Wine.\n By John Fiske, M.A., LL.B.\n New York: Leypoldt & Holt. 1869.\n\nIt was hardly possible that Mr. Parton's attack on the \"smokers\nand drinkers\" of this generation should pass without a reply. Mr.\nFiske has sprung into the lists, while yet the gauntlet of the\nchallenger has scarcely reached the ground, and has begun the\nbattle with a force and vigor which, to say the least, must\ntemporarily startle his opposers. Scientifically, he appears to\nhave the advantage. There is very little of assertion; very much\nof authority and argument about him. His manner of dealing with\nthe sweeping statements of his adversary is more effective than\ncourteous. His theory of the value of alcohol and tobacco, as\nstimulants for daily use, is certainly plausible, and must be\nwelcome to all who either smoke or drink, or who aspire to do so.\nPhysiologically, also, it appears sound, and in accordance with\nthe latest therapeutical discoveries. But it will be indeed a\ntask of difficulty to lead Mr. Parton, or his sympathizers, into\nthe belief that either smoking or drinking are profitable to\nmankind; a task equalled only by that of bringing smokers and\ndrinkers to observe that golden mean of temperance which even Mr.\nFiske admits to be of indispensable necessity.\n\nBut whatever may be the scientific merits of Mr. Fiske's\ntreatise, we can but feel that, morally, he is on the losing\nside. The advantages and disadvantages of tobacco and alcohol are\nto be estimated by their effect upon mankind at large, as mankind\nuses and will use them, and not by the medical influence they\nexercise when taken by the proper persons, in proper quantities,\nat proper times. Many things are _per se_ useful and\nbeneficial which, _as used_, are sources of great injury and\ndestruction. Some of these can scarcely be used as they ought by\nman in general, but become, almost inevitably, the cause of ruin\nand disorder. To this class we believe that tobacco and alcohol\nbelong. Experience seems to teach that their abuse necessarily\nfollows from their use, and that, whatever their peculiar\nbeneficial properties, they have been, and still are, among the\nworst enemies of man. For this reason we regret to see any\nargument put into the mouths of smokers and drinkers, whereby\nthey can quiet their own consciences or beguile others into\nself-indulgence; and we feel that it were safer and better that\nthe nerve-power of the individual should waste a little faster,\nand the stimulus be denied, than that the misery and wretchedness\nwhich tobacco and alcohol have already occasioned should find\neither an increase or an apology.\n\n ----\n\n A Book About Dominies:\n Being the Reflections and Recollections of a\n Member of the Profession.\n Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1869.\n\nBut for one fault this were a charming book. There is a freshness\nand genial warmth about it which is very welcome to the heart of\nany one who has ever been \"a boy.\" The keen appreciation of the\n\"boy nature,\" of the \"boy aspirations,\" of the \"boy troubles,\"\nwhich the dominie, whose experience is here narrated, seems to\nhave possessed, gives a rare relish to his sketches, and makes\nhis book almost a story of the reader's own youth and school\nlife. For these merits it will be read not once only but often,\nand will serve both to maturity and age as \"a tale of the times\nof old--a memory of the days of other years.\"\n\n{720}\n\nThe fault of which we speak is the tone of religious\nsentimentalism which runs through the whole book, and crops out\nin various flings at positive religious faith, and in innumerable\nexpressions of an unhealthy, mawkish, self-congratulating piety.\nLatitudinarianism is bad enough, but when it reaches to the open\ncontempt of dogma, and elevates the undisguised conceit which\ndespises all authority and law above the humility which\nacknowledges some truth outside its own conclusions, it becomes\nthe worst possible kind of teaching both for boys and men. It is\ndifficult to realize that the writer of the substance of this\nbook should also be the author of these dangerous and\ndisagreeable sentimentalisms.\n\n----\n\n An Illustrated History Of Ireland, from the Earliest Period to\n the Present Time.\n With several first-class full-page Engravings of Historical\n Scenes, designed by Henry Doyle, and engraved by George Hanlon\n and George Pearson; together with upward of One Hundred\n Woodcuts, by eminent artists, illustrating Antiquities,\n Scenery, and Sites of Remarkable Events; and three large Maps,\n one of Ireland, and the others of Family Homes, Statistics,\n etc.\n 1 vol. 8vo. Nearly 700 pages, extra cloth.\n New York: The Catholic Publication Society,\n 126 Nassau Street. 1869.\n\nWe are glad to see this new and improved edition of this\nexcellent history of Ireland. The first edition we noticed at\nlength, on its appearance, some months ago; but the demand for it\nwas so great that it was soon exhausted. The distinguished\nauthoress, (Sister Mary Frances Clare,) having made several\nadditions and improvements, presents us with a finely illustrated\nvolume, worthy of a place on the shelves of every library, public\nor private, in America.\n\nIt is very important that the people of the United States should\nstudy the history of Ireland intelligently. They have, as a\npeople, too long neglected it; and all the greater portion of\nthem know about Ireland and her history is that which they have\nlearned out of their school-books, and vitiated novels. In fact,\nour public men, writers and speakers alike, have not thought it\nworth their while to read Ireland's history; it was, to many of\nthem, a country beneath their notice, _except to slander_,\nby quoting her history from the biased writers of England. But\nthose times are passed. We now have good histories enough.\nBesides, there is no country of Europe that has sent so many of\nher people to populate this country; her children or their\ndescendants are to be found in every town and hamlet from Maine\nto Oregon. It is therefore incumbent on _all_ American\ncitizens, native or adopted, to study the history of that\n\n \"Isle of ancient fame,\"\n\nwhose history is almost as old as that of Judea. We trust that\nthose who have not yet done so will now procure a copy of this\nwork. Apart from its intrinsic merits, which are manifold, there\nis another which is of some importance. It is sold for the\nbenefit of the Convent of Poor Clares, Kenmare, Ireland, which\ninstitution gives education to hundreds of poor Irish children.\n\n ----\n\n Books Received.\n\nFrom Ivison, Phinney, Blakeman& Co.:\n\n Analysis of Civil Government: including a topical and tabular\n arrangement of the Constitution of the United States. Designed\n as a class-book for the use of Grammar, High, and Normal\n Schools, Academies, and other institutions of learning.\n By Calvin Townsend, Counsellor-at-Law.\n New York. 1869.\n\n\nFrom Lee & Shepard:\n\n Gloverson and His Silent Partners.\n By Ralph Reder. 1869.\n\n Words of Hope. \"That ye sorrow not, even as others which\n have no hope.\" 1869.\n\n\nFrom J. B. Lippincott & Co.:\n\n A Few Friends, and how they Amused Themselves.\n A tale in nine chapters; containing descriptions\n of twenty pastimes and games, and a fancy dress party.\n By M. E. Dodge, author of Hans Brinker and The Irvington\n Stories. 1869.\n\n\nFrom D. & J. Sadlier & Co.:\n\n Songs of Ireland and other Lands; being a collection\n of the most popular Irish sentimental and comic songs,\n 1 vol. 18mo.\n\n\nFrom Charles Scribner & Co., New York:\n\n Essays on the Progress of Nations, in Civilization,\n Productive Industry, Wealth, and Population, etc.\n By Ezra C. Seaman,\n 1 vol. 12mo.\n\n\nFrom D. Appleton & Co., New York:\n\n Mental Science; a Compendium of Psychology, and the\n History of Philosophy.\n By Alexander Bain, M. A.\n 1 vol. 12mo.\n\n ----------\n\n{721}{722}{723}\n\n\n The Catholic World.\n\n Vol. VIII., No. 48.--March, 1869.\n\n\n An Apostolic Letter From His Holiness Pope Pius IX.\n\n\nThe letter of the Holy Father which we publish below, in Latin\nand English, together with one from Cardinal Barnabo, Prefect of\nthe Congregation of the Propaganda, have just been received from\nRome. The readers of _The Catholic World_, and those persons\nespecially who have taken an active interest in, and have\ngenerously contributed to, the establishment of the Paulist\nCongregation, the Publication Society, and other associated\nworks, will doubtless feel gratified and encouraged by the\napproving words with which the Holy Father has deigned to give\nthem his sanction and apostolic blessing. These gracious words of\nthe Vicar of Jesus Christ ought to encourage us all to redoubled\nefforts for the advancement of our holy religion, and such, we\ntrust, will be their influence.\n\n\n Admodum R. D.:\n\n Cum Sanctissimus Dominus Noster non levi inter quibus afficitur\n acerbitates jucunditate ex pluribus nunciis acceperit, D. Tuam\n per Catholicos ephemerides curam omnem impendere ad religionis\n nostrae sanctissimae studium fovendum, ad falsas doctrinas\n refellendas, et ad hujus Apostolicae Sedis jura tuenda, aliquod\n suae paternae dilectionis testimonium voluit exhibere. Pergratum\n proinde erit D. Tuae literas Sanctitatis suae hisce adjectas\n reperire, quibus factum iri confido ut majori usque studio et\n alacritate inceptum opus prosequaris.\n\n Cui quidem benevolae, quam Sanctissimus Pater erga Te testari\n voluit, voluntati propensionis meae significationes addens, Deum\n precor ut D. Tuae fausta quaeque largiatur.\n\n Romae, ex Aed. S. Cong. de Prop.\n Fide, die 5 Januarii, MDCCCLXIX.\n\n D. Tuae.\n Addictissimus,\n Al. C. Barnabo, Pr.\n\n [Transcriber's note: English translation.]\n\n Very Reverend Sir:\n\n Inasmuch as the Sovereign Pontiff, our Holy Father the Pope, amid\n his many afflictions, has received great joy at hearing, through\n many different sources, that your Reverence is taking such great\n care to spread the knowledge of our most holy religion through\n Catholic publications, adapted to refute false doctrine and to\n defend the rights of this Apostolic See, he has desired to give\n you a testimony of his paternal affection. Accordingly, it will\n be most pleasing to your Reverence to receive, together with\n this, the letter of his Holiness, by which I trust you may be\n encouraged to pursue the work you have undertaken with still\n greater zeal and alacrity.\n\n Adding to the sentiments of good will which the Holy Father\n declares toward you, the expression of my own regard, I pray God\n that He may grant to your Reverence every kind of prosperity.\n\n Rome, Office of the S. Cong.\n of the Propaganda, January 5th,\n MDCCCLXIX.\n\n Most affectionately,\n Al. C. Barnabo, PR.\n\n----\n\n Dilecto Filio, I. T. Hecker, Presbytero\n Ac Rectori Missionariorum Collegii\n A S. Paulo Nuncup., Neo-eboracum.\n\n PIUS, PP. IX.\n\n Dilecte Fili, salutem et Apostolicam Benedictionem. Gaudemus,\n Dilecte Fili, te tui propositi memorem voce scriptisque\n constanter adlaborare propagandae Catholicae religioni\n dissipandisque errorum tenebris; ac tibi gratulamur ex animo de\n incrementis, quae initis a te operibus accessisse discimus.\n Scilicet confertae illae conciones, ubi Catholicam exposuisti\n doctrinam, quaeque tui desiderium ita fecerunt aliis, ut ad\n nobiliores ac frequentiores inviteris; existimatio, quam apud\n ipsos dissentientes ephemeridi tuae CATHOLIC WORLD eruditio et\n perspicuitas compararunt; aviditas qua passim expetuntur editi a\n Societate Catholica, per te coacta, libelli; novi sodales, qui\n culturae a te susceptae fines latius porrecturi, dant familiae\n tuae nomen; alumni tandem, qui in idem opus, se tibi tradunt\n excolendos, totidem sunt amplissimi fructus et diserti testes\n zeli solertiaeque tuae, ac coelestis illius favoris, quo coepta\n tua foecundantur. Quod sane facile intelliges quam jucundum Nobis\n contingere debeat, qui id potissimum optamus, ut evangelium\n nuncietur omni creaturae, ut sedentes in umbra mortis ad viam\n salutis adducantur, ut demum destructis erroribus universis,\n ubique veritatis regnum constituatur, in quo justitia et pax se\n invicem osculantes, humanae familiae reddant ordinis\n tranquillitatem jamdiu a monstrosis opinionum commentis abactam.\n Dum itaque studia tua, et eorum, qui tibi opere, subsidio,\n ingenio opitulantur, libentissime commendamus, maximas Deo\n gratias agimus, quod ipsis obsecundare voluerit; eumque rogamus,\n ut gratiae suae virtute, novos tibi jam currenti veluti stimulos\n addat, aliosque atque alios adjutores tibi conciliet, qui tecum\n industriam viresque suas conferant in commune Christiani populi\n bonum. Coelestis vero favoris auspicem, et paternae nostrae\n benevolentiae testem Apostolicam Benedictionem tibi tuaeque\n Missionariorum familiae peramanter impertimus.\n\n Datum Romae apud S. Petrum\n die 30 Decembris, 1868, Pontificatus\n Nostri Anno XXIII.\n\n [Transcriber's note: English translation.]\n\n To My Beloved Son, I. T. Hecker,\n Priest And Superior Of The Missionary Congregation Of St. Paul,\n New York.\n\n PIUS IX., POPE.\n\n Beloved Son, health and apostolic benediction. We rejoice,\n beloved son, that you, mindful of your purpose, labor\n continually, by your word and writings, to spread the Catholic\n religion, and to scatter the darkness of error; and We heartily\n congratulate you upon the increase which, as We have been\n informed, the works undertaken by you have received. Undoubtedly\n those thronged assemblies where you have set forth the Catholic\n doctrine, and have thereby excited in others such a desire to\n hear you, that you are invited to address audiences still larger\n and more notable; the esteem which your periodical, THE CATHOLIC\n WORLD, has, through its erudition and perspicuity, acquired, even\n among those who differ from us; the eagerness with which the\n tracts and books of The Catholic Publication Society, established\n by you, are everywhere sought for; the new associates who enroll\n themselves in your congregation to extend more widely the good\n work you have undertaken; finally, the students who offer\n themselves to you to be educated for the same work, all these are\n so many abundant fruits and eloquent witnesses of your zeal and\n skill, and of the divine favor through which your undertakings\n are made fruitful. You will easily understand, of course, how\n gratifying this must be to Us, who desire, above all things, that\n the gospel should be preached to every creature; that those who\n sit in the shadow of death should be brought into the way of\n salvation; that, in fine, all errors being destroyed, the reign\n of truth should be everywhere established; in which justice and\n peace, kissing each other, may restore to the human family the\n tranquillity of order, so long banished by the extravagances of\n error. While, therefore, We most cordially commend your zealous\n efforts, and those of your associates who contribute to the\n success of the same by their labor, their gifts, or their\n talents, We give especial thanks to God that He has condescended\n to second them, and We pray Him that, by the power of His grace,\n He may stimulate still more your already strenuous exertions; and\n may give you more and more associates who, with you, shall bestow\n their industry and strength on the common good of the Christian\n people. And as a token of the divine favor, and an evidence of\n Our paternal good will, We impart most affectionately to you, and\n to your congregation of missionaries, Our apostolic benediction.\n\n Given at Rome, at St. Peter's, on the 30th of December, 1868, in\n the twenty-third year of Our Pontificate.\n\n Pius IX., Pope.\n\n ----------\n\n{724}\n\n The Progress of Nations. [Footnote 277]\n\n [Footnote 277: _Essays on Mm Progress of Nations, in\n Civilization, Productive Industry, Wealth, and Population_.\n By Ezra C. Seaman. First and Second Series, 12 mo.\n PP. 645, 659. New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1868.]\n\n\nThe first series of the Essays which compose these two stout\nvolumes appeared as long ago as 1846, and has now been revised,\namended, and enlarged, and, after being long out of print,\nrepublished in connection with a second collection similar in\ncharacter and general design. Mr. Seaman's purpose has been to\ninquire into the principal causes of the welfare of nations, such\nas morality, education, personal and political liberty,\ncommercial, mechanical, and agricultural development, and those\nnatural conditions of climate and geographical position which man\nhas no power to modify, and to show how these causes have\noperated at various times and in various countries. To the\nadequate treatment of so vast a theme, there should be brought\nthe labor of a life-time, the learning of a ripe scholar, and the\nintellect of a philosopher. Mr. Seaman, we must frankly say, has\nbrought neither of the three. He has attempted what not one man\nin a thousand would be wise to attempt; and if he has failed, he\nhas at any rate failed in very respectable company. The essays\nare crude and fragmentary. They lack a sustained train of thought\nand logical connection; they are encumbered with commonplaces and\nrepetitions; and the statistical and historical illustrations\nwith which they are thickly interwoven have the disadvantage of\nbeing borrowed from sources that convey no weight of authority.\nCitations from incompetent witnesses carry no force, but rather\nweaken the effect of an author's statements.\n\nThe fundamental fault of Mr. Seaman's work is not its raggedness,\nhowever; but it is the misapprehension, with which he starts, of\nthe meaning of his subject. He understands \"Progress\" merely as\nmaterial prosperity. \"Civilization\" means nothing in his mind but\n\"Productive Industry, Wealth, and Population.\" That people is the\nmost advanced which owns the most money and wears the best\nclothes. The destiny of man is commerce and manufactures. The end\nof civil society is the acquisition of wealth. Liberty is good\nbecause it leaves man free to invent telegraphs and railroads.\nGovernment is good because trade would be impossible without it.\nEducation is valuable because it stimulates production and\nregulates industry. Religion is respectable because it develops\nthe intellectual faculties, and teaches us to restrain the\nappetites whose free indulgence would undermine the constitution\nor injure our fellow-man. We do not mean to say that Mr. Seaman\nteaches these doctrines in so many words. He does not know that\nhe teaches them at all. If he ever sees this article, he will no\ndoubt be shocked at our interpretation of his argument. Yet,\npushed to their fair and by no means remote conclusions, these\nare the teachings to which his essays amount. He seems to forget\nthat man was created to know and love God and promote the divine\nglory, and that is the highest state of civilization in which he\nmost perfectly fulfils the end of his creation. There is no true\nprogress except toward this end.\n{725}\nThere is no real prosperity, where this heavenly destiny is lost\nsight of. There is no education which keeps it not constantly in\nview. Mr. Seaman treats religion merely as an agency for the\ndevelopment of civilization, whereas it is the very essence of\ncivilization itself. He thinks of the worship of God as a useful\nmental exercise, which sharpens a man's wits and makes him keener\nat a bargain. One who has practised his brain in theological\ncontroversy must of necessity be the clearer-headed when he has\nto decide between free-trade and protection, or calculate the\nrate of exchange and the fluctuations of stocks. But theology is\nnot worship. Religion is a matter of the affections as well as\nthe intellect. The unlettered peasant can praise God, and is\nbound to praise God, no less than the scholar. A purely\nintellectual religion could not be of divine origin, since it\nwould only be suitable for a small minority of the human race; it\ncould not be the great business of every man's life, as religion\nmust be, if it is worth anything at all. \"Happiness, in a future\nworld as well as in this,\" says Mr. Seaman, \"is the sovereign\ngood of man, and constitutes the end and chief purpose of his\nexistence.\" That statement may pass if you understand happiness\nto consist in the promotion of the divine glory; but not if you\nplace it in bank-notes and steam-engines. These seem to be the\ngoal of progress in our author's eyes, and he looks at nothing\nbeyond them.\n\nWith his false conceptions of the nature of society and religion,\nit is not surprising that Mr. Seaman should thoroughly\nmisapprehend the work and purpose of that divinely organized\nchurch to which we owe all the true civilization there is in the\nworld, and all the progress we have ever made. The only thread of\nthought which can be clearly discerned running through his\nessays, is the idea that Catholicism is the great enemy of\ncivilization. We wish it were quite as clear by what line of\nargument he purposes to prove it. In one chapter, the church is\nan enemy to education because she does not teach the people\nenough. In another she is the enemy of free thought because she\nteaches them too much. Now her offence is neglect, now it is\novermuch care. We don't see how it can be both.\n\n\"A part,\" he says, \"and one of the most efficient parts of\ngovernment in all civilized countries, consists in the education\nof the people.\" And he argues the necessity of education from the\nfact that \"the great mass of mankind ... are guided by imitation,\nprecedent, and the instruction of others.\" They have very few\nideas except those which are put into their heads by better\neducated people, or are derived directly from the senses. \"Such\npeople in all countries are under the influence and control ...\nof the aristocracy, the clergy, the members of the learned\nprofessions, and the military and civil officers of government.\"\nThe policy of the pope and the priesthood, he complains, is to\nretain the masses in a state of ignorance. \"The Bible is kept\nfrom them; they are denied the right to read, and exercise their\nown individual judgments in matters of religion, but must allow\ntheir priests to read, think, and judge for them, and to form\ntheir opinions; and no efforts are made by the priests to\nestablish common schools, or to teach the common people anything\nbeyond the catechism, and the ceremonies and dogmas of religion,\nand absolute, unconditional submission in all things to their\npriests and rulers.\n{726}\nTheir whole efforts in matters of education are directed to\nfounding colleges and high-schools, for training up young men for\nthe priesthood, and instructing and breathing their opinions into\nthe children and youth of the aristocracy and the wealthy\nclasses.\" Now, before we go any further, let us prick a few of\nthe mistakes in this paragraph. There are so many we hardly know\nhow to begin.\n\n1. The Bible is _not_ kept from the common people. It is\nfreely circulated in the vernacular, and our current English\nversion is older than the translation of King James. From the\ntime, in fact, when Bishop Ulphilas in the fifth century\ntranslated the Bible into the Gothic tongue, down to our own day,\nit has been the constant practice of the church to supply the\nfaithful with correct translations of the Holy Scriptures. The\nuse of false and garbled versions is indeed forbidden; but that\nis another matter altogether.\n\n2. Catholics are _not_ forbidden to read (!), nor do their\npriests claim the right to read and think for them, or to form\ntheir opinions. Mr. Seaman's statements on these points are so\npreposterous that in his cooler moments we suppose he is sorry\nfor having made them.\n\n3. Efforts have _always_ been made by our clergy to\nestablish schools for the common people. The first work of the\nparish priest after he has built his church is to build a\nschool-house. The free education of the children of the poor has\nthe next place in his care to the service of the altar. There is\nnot a step in the whole system of education, from the\nalphabet-class to the highest university cursus [Footnote 278],\nto which the Catholic Church does not devote the labor of some\nreligious order or congregation, blessed and sanctioned and\nassisted by the supreme Pontiff.\n\n [Footnote 278: Transcriber's note: \"course\"]\n\nShe does not confine, she never has confined, her solicitude to\ntheological studies or the education of the rich. Teaching the\npoor has been the chosen labor and chief glory of hundreds of her\nsaints, and is now the crowning work of many a flourishing order,\nsuch as the Sisters of Charity, the Brethren of the Christian\nSchools, and similar organizations, the prime object of which, be\nit remarked, is the education not of the upper classes but of the\nmass of the population. The Jesuits are more celebrated for their\ncolleges and higher seminaries than for rudimentary schools; but\nthey too have their primary classes in all places where there is\nboth need and opportunity for them; and even in their colleges\nwhere every student is supposed to pay for his education, a\nsystem of gratuitous instruction is pursued with a delicate\nsecrecy designed to spare the poor scholar any possible\nmortification. Of course it is chiefly \"the masses\" who profit by\nthis hidden charity. Even Mr. Seaman himself, in another part of\nhis book, interrupts his censure of religious orders in general\nby a confession that many of the communities of monks and nuns\nhave done good by devoting themselves to the education of the\nyoung: if he had not confessed it, indeed, he must have been a\nmarvel of ignorance or dishonesty. With the history of the\ncommon-school agitation led by Bishop Hughes in New York so fresh\nin mind, he must be a bold partisan who would deny our anxiety to\nkeep in the very van of educational progress. The Catholic demand\nfor a share of the school fund was in reality a demand for the\nadmission of our parochial schools to the common school system of\nthe State. We were ready, nay anxious, to carry out the State\nprogramme of instruction to its fullest extent, and admit the\nState inspectors and examiners to scrutinize our operations\nwhenever they saw fit.\n{727}\nBut sectarian bigotry has imposed a double tax upon our efforts\nfor the education of our children, and rather than we should\nteach them about God opposes our teaching them anything at all.\nWe do the best we can. We pay our tax for the support of the\nschools we do not approve; we pay another voluntary tax for such\nparish schools as our poverty can afford; and if these are too\nsmall to receive our children and too poor to do as much for them\nas they would be glad to do, the fault is not ours but the law's,\nwhich deprives us of the aid to which we are justly entitled from\nthe common fund. One thing is clear to every dispassionate\nobserver: the Catholics do twice as much for education as any\nother denomination--nay, do that which no other denomination\nwould think of attempting. A state system of gratuitous\ninstruction is often referred to as one of the exclusive boons of\nProtestantism. Well, in how many of the great countries of the\nworld, besides our own, is such a system known? Only in France\nand Austria, which are Catholic, and in Prussia and Scotland,\nwhich are Protestant. Protestant England has done less for\npopular education, and has consequently a more grossly ignorant\npeasantry than any other country on the globe equally advanced in\ngeneral civilization. Her great universities and grammar-schools\nare the relics of Catholic foundations. The half a million of\npounds annual income which they enjoy is drawn from Catholic\nendowments, perverted from their ancient uses; and it is\nestimated that not more than three-fifths of this sum is actually\nmade available for educational purposes in any way whatever. So\nshamelessly have these legacies of the ancient faith been\nmisapplied, that there are masters drawing large salaries for\npresiding over schools which have no scholars, and a few years\nago it was found that the teachers of 708 inferior schools and 35\ngrammar-schools signed their returns with a mark! Of late the\ngovernment has made efforts for a reform, and the various\ndissenting sects have also done a great deal in the establishment\nof denominational schools; but no general system of popular\ninstruction has yet been devised. Popular education in fact is a\npurely Catholic idea, almost as old as Christianity itself, and\nthe germ of the modern common-school system was in the bosom of\nthe ancient church. \"After the introduction of Christianity,\"\nsays _The American Cyclopaedia_, (art. \"Common Schools,\")\n\"and its accession to power, the duty of the authorities to\neducate the young was speedily recognized by the bishops and\nclergy. The object of this education was of course their training\nin the doctrines of Christianity, but it was the first\nrecognition of the duty of giving instruction to the masses. As\nearly as A.D. 529 we find the council of Vaison recommending the\nestablishment of public schools. In 800 a synod at Mentz ordered\nthat the parochial priests should have schools in the towns and\nvillages, that 'the little children of all the faithful should\nlearn letters from them. Let them receive and teach these with\nthe utmost charity, that they themselves may shine for ever. Let\nthem receive no remuneration from their scholars, unless what the\nparents through charity may voluntarily offer.\" A council at Rome\nin 836 ordained that there should be three kinds of schools\nthroughout Christendom: episcopal, parochial in towns and\nvillages, and others wherever there could be found place and\nopportunity. The Council of Lateran in 1179 ordained the\nestablishment of a grammar-school in every cathedral for the\ngratuitous instruction of the poor.\n{728}\nThis ordinance was enlarged and enforced by the Council of Lyons\nin 1245. Thus originated the popular or common school as an\noutgrowth of the Christian Church. \"A council of the 16th century\nspeaks of schools in the priests' houses, and the decretals\nabound in mention of popular instruction as one of the first\nduties of the clergy and one of the traditional and most ancient\nglories of the church. \"If the important knowledge of reading and\nwriting was spread among the people,\" says the socialist\nphilosopher St. Simon, \"it was owing to the church.\" If that\nknowledge, during the political and social disorders of the\nmiddle ages became so difficult of attainment that only a favored\nfew could acquire it, it was the church alone who kept the sacred\nflame of learning alive in the schools and the cloisters,\nmaintained the great universities and grammar classes in the\nmidst of the most turbulent periods; and when society\ncrystallized again into order, brought forth the treasure of\nknowledge which she had guarded so long, and gave it to the\nworld. [Footnote 279]\n\n [Footnote 279: See _The Catholic World_ for\n February, 1869-art. \"The Ignorance of the Middle Ages.\"]\n\nNearly all the most famous institutions of learning in Europe are\nof Catholic foundation. Rome is especially well provided with\nschools, and the Roman College gives free instruction in the\nclassics and the sciences. And in \"the face of all these\nfacts--knowing as he must know if he has studied the \"progress of\nnations\" with a particle of intelligence, that the Catholic\nChurch has been the most munificent patron of learning the world\never saw--Mr. Seaman has the sublime effrontery to say that \"no\neffort has ever been made in any Catholic country to educate the\nmass of the people or any of the common classes, except some few\nselected by the priests, to be educated and trained for the\nministry,\" and that \"the great body of Catholics seem to be\nstudiously kept in profound ignorance, that they may be managed\nand governed the more easily\"! It seems to us it would be a good\nand a just thing if the penalties against malpractice by which\nthe law protects the medical profession from ignorant charlatans\ncould be extended to the profession of literature. There is a\ngraceful compliment to the literature of the Catholic Church in\nMatthew Arnold's essay on \"The Pagan and Mediaeval Religious\nSentiment.\" For the benefit of Mr. Seaman and his class we cite\nthe passage nearly at full length:\n\n \"In spite of all the shocks which the feeling of a good\n Catholic has in this Protestant country inevitably to undergo,\n in spite of the contemptuous insensibility to the grandeur of\n Rome which he finds so general and so hard to bear, how much\n has he to console him, how many acts of homage to the greatness\n of his religion, may he see if he has his eyes open! I will\n tell him of one of them. Let him go, in London, to that\n delightful spot, that Happy Island in Bloomsbury, the\n reading-room of the British Museum. Let him visit its sacred\n quarter, the region where its theological books are placed. I\n am almost afraid to say what he will find there, for fear Mr.\n Spurgeon, like a second Caliph Omar, should give the library to\n the flames. He will find an immense Catholic work, the\n collection of the Abb\u00e9 Migne, lording it over that whole\n region, reducing to insignificance the feeble Protestant forces\n which hang upon its skirts. Protestantism is duly represented,\n indeed; Mr. Panizzi knows his business too well to suffer it to\n be otherwise; all the varieties of Protestantism are there;\n there is the library of Anglo-Catholic Theology, learned,\n decorous, exemplary, but a little uninteresting; there are the\n works of Calvin, rigid, militant, menacing; there are the works\n of Dr. Chalmers, the Scotch thistle, valiantly doing duty as\n the rose of Sharon, but keeping something very Scotch about it\n all the time; there are the works of Dr. Channing, the last\n word of religious philosophy in a land where every one has some\n culture, and where superiorities are discountenanced--the\n flower of moral and intelligent mediocrity.\n{729}\n But how are all these divided against one another, and how,\n though they were all united, are they dwarfed by the Catholic\n leviathan, their neighbor! Majestic in its blue and gold\n unity, this fills shelf after shelf and compartment after\n compartment, its right mounting up into heaven among the white\n folios of the _Acta Sanctorum_, its left plunging down\n into hell among the yellow octavos of the _Law Digest_.\n Everything is there, in that immense _Patrologiae Cursus\n Completus_, in that _Encyclop\u00e9die Th\u00e9ologique_, that\n _Nouvelle Encyclop\u00e9die Th\u00e9ologique_, that _Troisi\u00e8me\n Encyclop\u00e9die Th\u00e9ologique_; religion, philosophy, history,\n biography, arts, sciences, bibliography, gossip. The work\n embraces the whole range of human interests; like one of the\n great middle-age cathedrals, it is in itself a study for a\n life. Like the net in Scripture, it drags everything to land,\n bad and good, lay and ecclesiastical, sacred and profane, so\n that it be but matter of human concern. Wide-embracing as the\n power whose product it is! a power, for history, at any rate,\n eminently _the Church_; not, I think, the church of the\n future, but indisputably the church of the past, and in the\n past, the church of the multitude.\n\n \"This is why the man of imagination--nay, and the philosopher,\n too, in spite of her propensity to burn him--will always have a\n weakness for the Catholic Church; because of the rich treasures\n of human life which have been stored within her pale. The\n mention of other religious bodies, or of their leaders, at once\n calls up in our mind the thought of men of a definite type as\n their adherents; the mention of Catholicism suggests no such\n special following. Anglicanism suggests the English Episcopate;\n Calvin's name suggests Dr. Candlish; Chalmers's, the Duke of\n Argyll; Channing's, Boston Society; but Catholicism suggests\n --what shall I say?--all the pellmell of the men and women of\n Shakespeare's plays. This abundance the Abb\u00e9 Migne's collection\n faithfully reflects. People talk of this or that work which\n they would choose, if they were to pass their life with only\n one; for my part, I think I would choose the Abb\u00e9 Migne's\n collection. _Quicqnid agunt homines_--everything, as I\n have said, is there.\"\n\nBut Mr. Seaman complains, not only that the Catholic Church\nneglects to teach the people, but that she neglects to let them\nalone. Not only has she never had any schools, but she has had\ntoo many schools. She has taken no care of education, and\nmoreover she has meddled officiously with popular instruction\nwhen she ought to have confined herself to masses and sermons.\nThe clergy, being for long ages the only teachers of letters,\nscience, philosophy, and religion, acquired an influence over\nmen's conduct and opinions which can only be regarded as\nunfortunate. Yet, a little while ago, he said that in all\nconditions of society the majority of mankind are ruled by the\nthoughts and instructions of others, and that education is one of\nthe most important parts of government. Is it better that this\ntremendous influence should be exerted by the wisest and most\nvirtuous class, or by those who are eminent only because they are\nthe most powerful? If any set of men are to mould the opinions of\nthe rest, should they not be the men who are best qualified by\nstudy and by sacred pursuits to exercise that function with\nintelligence and sincerity? We believe that when the child passes\nfrom the hands of the parent, its best guides are the servants of\nthe church who have devoted themselves to the training of the\nyoung in order that they may do good to their fellow creatures\nand give glory to God. Mr. Seaman would entrust this sacred duty\nto pot-house politicians, who covet office for the sake of gain.\nThe theory of a paternal government, which watches over all our\nrelations in life, and rears children to be good citizens, may be\nall very well; but we know what governments are in practice, and\npetty office-holders are the last men we should want to trust\nwith moulding the opinions of society. There is something too\ndemoralizing in the means by which they generally get their\nplaces; and, after they have got them, how many are fit for them?\n{730}\nIt is the duty of government to promote education and general\nculture, that is very true; but _how_ this ought to be done\nis another question. Mr. Seaman says the proper way is to remove\nchildren from the influence of the two institutions which God has\ndesigned for their guides and educators--the family and the\nchurch--and to put them under the control of place-hunters, who\nmay possibly have a special talent for instruction, but are just\nas likely to be fools and rogues. But he has no arguments to\nsupport his opinions, and it is not worth while to answer sheer\ndogmatism.\n\nMr. Seaman is not satisfied with once gravely declaring that \"in\nall Roman Catholic countries education by means of schools and\nbooks is confined to the wealthy classes,\" and then blaming the\npriests for interfering with the secular studies of the people\ninstead of confining themselves to religious teaching; asserting\nthat the Church has \"usurped the whole domain of metaphysics and\nphilosophy,\" and yet that she has never done anything for\neducation at all; praising the Presbyterians of Scotland for\nmaking schools a part of their religious establishment, so that\nthe young might be instructed \"in the principles of religion,\ngrammar, and the Latin tongue,\" and upbraiding the church because\ncenturies earlier she had done the same thing; but he returns\ntime and again to the same misstatements and the same\ncontradictions. During the Dark Ages, he says, coming back again\nto the Bible question, \"the Scriptures were in the possession of\nthose only who were learned in the dead languages. _They had\nnever been translated into any of the modern languages._ A\ngood explanation of this remarkable fact may possibly be that the\nmodern languages, at the period to which Mr. Seaman refers, had\nnot yet taken a literary form. He probably means to say that the\nsacred books had not been translated into the vernacular of any\npeople. If he does, he makes a great mistake. In the first place,\nthe Latin Vulgate was by no means a sealed volume. That version\nhad been made expressly to render the Scriptures accessible to\nall. The tongue into which it was turned was the one most\ngenerally understood by whoever had education enough to read any\nbook at all; and during the so-called Dark Ages, Latin was still\nin common use all over the continent of Europe. It was not then a\ndead language, so far as books were concerned, though in the\nconversation of common life it had passed out of use. Moreover,\nas we have already seen, translations of the Bible into other\nlanguages were made as fast as those languages took shape.\nTranslations of the New Testament were made very early into all\nthe tongues then spoken by Christians. Portions of the Scriptures\nwere turned into Saxon by Adhelm, Egbert, the Venerable Bede, and\nothers, between the 8th and 10th centuries; and there was a\ncomplete English version as early as 1290, that is to say, 90\nyears before Wycliffe's, which Hallam erroneously calls the\nearliest. The first book printed at Guttenberg's press was a\nLatin Bible, and in Italy, under the very eye of the church,\nthere were translations in use in the 15th century. The popular\nfable that Luther first threw open the sacred book to the world\nis one of the most mischievous falsehoods in history.\n\nOn almost every page we find errors hardly less monstrous. \"Not\none valuable invention, discovery, or improvement,\" says Mr.\nSeaman, \"during the last three centuries and a half, has\noriginated where the human mind has been subject to Catholicism\n.... and the same may be said of jurisprudence, government, and\nscience, as well as the useful arts.\"\n{731}\nThe impudence of this assertion is enough to take away one's\nbreath. France, then, has done nothing for the arts or for\nscience, Catholic Germany has done nothing, Belgium has done\nnothing, Italy has done nothing. Nay, more; if the Church for\nthree hundred and fifty years has blighted material progress, if\nthe Catholic clergy during that time have, as our amazingly\nignorant author declares, \"restrained the human mind from the\nprosecution of new discoveries in natural science under pretence\nthat the new opinions promulgated were contrary to Scripture, and\ntherefore impious and heretical,\" how does it happen that the\nworld made any discoveries at all before that period? Why, does\nMr. Seaman forget that the art of printing itself, the greatest\ninvention of all time, dates from that \"dark age\" when the power\nof the Church was at its height, and Luther had not yet arisen,\nand that its first use was in the service of the sanctuary? Does\nhe forget that Copernicus was a Catholic priest? that some of the\nmost brilliant of modern discoveries in the positive sciences, in\nastronomy, in medicine, in natural philosophy, have emanated from\nCatholic Italy and France, and that the science of jurisprudence,\nto which he especially refers, owes more to those two countries\nand Germany than to all the rest of the world? The case of\nGalileo, to which of course he alludes, has so recently been\nexamined in two elaborate articles in this magazine that we need\ngive but little space to it here. It is enough to say that\nalthough the Florentine philosopher was forbidden to wrest\nScripture to the support of his theory, and was censured for his\ndisobedience of a solemn obligation to let theology alone and\nconfine himself to science, the Church stood throughout his\npatron and protector, and the Pope and the Cardinals were the\nmost zealous among his disciples. Mr. Seaman's statement that\n\"when Galileo taught in Italy the Copernican system of astronomy\nas late as the year 1633, it was decided by the POPE and a\nCOUNCIL OF CATHOLIC CARDINALS AND BISHOPS\" that the doctrine was\nabsurd and heretical, and he was \"consigned to the\n_dungeons_ of the INQUISITION and compelled to recant and\nabjure his opinions in order to save his life,\" (the capitals and\nItalics are Mr. Seaman's,) is a plain up-and-down falsehood.\nThere is no justification of it in any reputable history. \"The\nPope and a council of Catholic Cardinals and Bishops\" never\npronounced any judgment whatever either upon Galileo or his\ndoctrines, and never had anything to do with the affair. The\njudgment, such as it was, expressed merely the opinion of the\n\"qualifiers,\" or examiners of the Inquisition--an irresponsible\ncommittee attached to a civil tribunal, whose report carried no\ntheological weight, and no more represented the doctrine of the\nChurch, or the sentiments of Pope, Cardinals, and Bishops than\nthe Munchausenisms of Mr. Seaman represent the sober verdict of\nhistory. The Church is not to be reproached for the blunders of\nher individual members. Moreover, Galileo never was consigned to\nthe \"dungeons of the Inquisition,\" and never was in peril of his\nlife.\n\nThe course of Mr. Seaman's argument leads him to a sketch of the\nconstitution and history of the church, and here he wanders in\nsuch a maze of error, that it is bewildering to follow him.\n{732}\nHe tells us that the Pope and the bishops have the most absolute\nand unlimited power over the inferior clergy, sending them\nwherever they choose, and appointing and removing them at\npleasure, and that the Pope exercises similar authority over the\nbishops. Has our learned historian ever heard of such a thing as\n_canon law_, which secures to the inferior clergy a perfect\nimmunity from arbitrary interference by their superiors, and\nwhich is in force all over the Christian world, except in new\ncountries, where the church is yet too young to complete her\norganization? He tells us that the church invented and upholds\nthe doctrine of the divine right of kings, and teaches that the\npeople are bound to submit passively under all circumstances, and\nthat no amount or continuance of oppression and tyranny can\njustify resistance or rebellion in any case whatever. All history\ncontradicts this statement--contradicts it so plainly that we can\nhardly account for the author's temerity. If we had the patience\nto read his book straight through, we should probably find him on\nsome other page blaming the Popes for encouraging rebellion and\ninsurrection. As it is, he declares that \"this tyrannical and\ndespotic doctrine, ... is the work of the clergy of a\ncomparatively modern period, and as late as the year 1682 the\nUniversity of Oxford, in England, adopted it.\" We presume Mr.\nSeaman is aware that Oxford University in 1682 was\n_Protestant_. He tells us that the Catholic Church is a\ncruel and persecuting church, and refers to the penal statutes\nagainst heresy, which were in force in England, from the 14th to\nthe 16th century, and under which, during the reign of Queen\nMary, \"several hundred persons were burned;\" but he seems not to\nknow that _all_ denominations, in those cruel times,\npersecuted one another impartially; that Henry VIII. had set Mary\nthe example, and Elizabeth was a worthy follower of her father\nand Calvin and the continental reformers were as bad as \"bloody\nMary,\" and even the Protestant settlers of America had little\nconception of the principle of religious freedom, until it was\ntaught them by the Catholics of Maryland. He declares that the\npersecution of heretical sects during the 4th, 5th, and 6th\ncenturies, and the tyranny of the ecclesiastical aristocracy were\nthe actual causes of the decline of the Roman empire. This is too\nmuch! Why, the commencement of the decline dates from the second\ncentury, and the Roman ascendency was entirely overthrown by the\nmiddle of the fourth; and during this period of decay, the church\nhad no power in the state, but was herself persecuted and driven\ninto the darkness of caverns.\n\nWe have spoken our mind plainly about this book, because we think\nit is one of a class that deserve no mercy. A man who sets\nhimself to write history without consulting even the ordinary\nsources of historical information commits an offence against\ntruth and against society. Ignorance does not excuse him.\nIgnorance in such a case is a crime. Of course we do not suppose\nthat Mr. Seaman intentionally makes false statements. But he\nmakes random statements which the slightest examination would\nhave satisfied him were false. He was bound to undertake such an\nexamination, and not having done it, he bears the responsibility\nof the falsehood. The passage we have already cited about Galileo\nis a good example of what we mean. There is no color of authority\nfor the erroneous version of the case which Mr. Seaman gives.\n{733}\nHe could only have evolved that story out of a vague impression\nthat the Pope and the Cardinals had done some very cruel and\nilliberal thing to the philosopher; and he must have put it into\nthe words he used, because he considered those words effective in\nrepresenting the action of the church in a black aspect. But the\nerrors are very serious ones. They amount to the assertion that\nthe church has declared a scientific fact to be a theological\nheresy. If this were true, the church would be no church. Not\nbeing true, the words amount to a gross slander. If Mr. Seaman,\nhaving been educated in a prejudice against Catholics, and\nbelieving that they are cruel and vindictive people who ought to\nbe excluded from good society, should print a pamphlet, charging\nthe Archbishop of New York and his Vicar-General, and the editors\nof _The Tablet_ and _The Catholic World_ with a\nconspiracy to torture or murder the Rev. Dr. Prime, the fact that\nhe thought it probable the accusation _might_ be true, would\nbe no justification, and would not save him from the consequences\nof a libel suit. The author who is guilty of slander in writing\nthe history of the past, cannot be mulcted in damages like the\ncriminal who carelessly destroys a private character; but he\ndeserves to be placed in the pillory of moral criticism and to be\nheld as a literary outlaw.\n\n ----------\n\n The Silent Clock.\n\n\n Its sounds were hushed by weeping love,\n A sad heart bade it cease to move,\n And one long hour of sorrow prove.\n\n A heart and it did beat their last,\n A trembling hand before it passed,\n And endless silence on it cast.\n\n A spectre from the silent lands,\n A shadow of life's grief it stands,\n Still pleading with uplifted hands,\n\n Whose awful stillness seems to say;\n Here was the closing of his day--\n Here was the loosing of the clay.\n\n Forget not one, of old so dear,\n Lift up your hearts for him in prayer\n As we are ever lifted here.\n\n{734}\n\n It shames the soul--that silent clock,\n Its mournful muteness seems to mock\n The love we thought no years could shock.\n\n Our sighs and tears of fond distress\n Have changed to smiles of happiness\n It stands unchanged, dumb, motionless!\n\n Geraldine.\n ----------\n\n Who Shall Take Care Of Our Poor?\n\n No. II.\n\n\nThe point of view in which we propound this problem is that of\nthe adequacy of the Christian Church, by its organic\ninstitutions, to counteract, in America, those social and\npolitical aberrations which, in the eastern hemisphere, have\ndeveloped and maintained the scourge of pauperism. On this\nquestion, history is prophecy; an incomplete prophecy, yet\ncontaining all the principles of action which a plastic\nintelligence and fresh inspiration from its fountain life may\nenable the church to adapt to our present exigencies.\n\nUnder myriad forms and faces, pauperism is the sphinx that\ndevours every society which cannot, within a certain time, find\nits solution, unless wars have anticipated its fate.\n\nResult of international wars, and source of intestine wars--those\nirruptions of organized crime--pauperism is the ulcer on the leg\nof civilization which betrays the impurity of its blood.\n\nIt behoves us on the threshold of this inquiry to distinguish\nbetween accidental impoverishment, and pauperism as an organic\nmalady, which develops, as in Great Britain, _pari passu_\nwith population and even with the increase of wealth.\n\nAn earthquake devastates Peru, prostrates its cities and destroys\nits harvests: its inhabitants suffer the greatest privations, but\nhaving ready access to the soil in that prolific climate, little\nor no chronic pauperism will result. The white population of our\nimmense South has been recently reduced by war to an extreme\ndistress. Flanders, Germany, France, the most prosperous\ncountries of Europe, have been scourged still more severely; yet\nindustrious generations suffice to efface the trace of war.\nPestilences, which decimate the population of a country, yet\nrespect property, and do not pauperize the survivors, but the\ncontrary; for they have freer access to the means of production.\nBut why is it that Great Britain--the old monarch of the seas,\nwith her predatory grasp on the neck of the Indies, with all her\nstupendous machinery of production, and fearing no enemy from\nabroad--is rotting with pauperism amid peace and wealth,\nperishing like an old eagle, condemned to starvation by the\nexcessive curvature of his overlapping beak?\n{735}\nBehold our mother country, she whose laws and institutions we are\nnow in the main reproducing, she whose crimes against charity we\nreorganize by exposing our soil to the cupidity of speculators,\nwhose pauperism we inherit by emigration, and whose fate we must\nshare, as certainly as the same causes produce the same effects,\nunless we reform in our youth.\n\nOne hope, one faith, one path of social salvation, remains for us\nboth and for all the world--namely, cooperative Christian\nassociation, that, baffling pride and greed, restores to the\nworkman the produce of his work, and renders the practical love\nof our neighbor the means of satisfaction for our own needs,\nwhether of the senses or the soul. Now, Rochdale and its kindred\nco-operative enterprises, whose success is so encouraging in\nEngland; the masons and other artisan associations of Paris, like\nthe trades co-operations of Barcelona and the old Italian cities;\neven the Hanseatic League, so monastic in its discipline--all\nproceed in direct line from the Columbans, the Cistercians, and\nother religious orders of the Benedictine group, who initiated\nthe agricultural Christianity of Europe. The seed sown in the\nmediaeval heart did not rot amid that dissolution of society\nwhich is called the _Reformation_. It has survived the\noppressions of aristocracy and capital no longer tempered by\nmonastic orders; it has survived the internecine competition of\nour modern _proletariat_; and now the same organic type,\nunder new names, puts forth its leaf, buds, blooms, and fruits.\n\n\"If we look,\" says Balmes, \"at the different systems which\nferment in minds devoted to the study of pauperism and its\nremedies, we shall always find there association under one form\nor another. Now, association has been at all times one of the\nfavorite principles of Catholicity, which, by proclaiming unity\nin faith, proclaims unity in all things. If we examine the\nreligious institutions characteristic of Europe in its darkest\nperiod of ignorance, corruption, and social dissolution, we\nobserve that the monks of the west were not content with\nsanctifying themselves; from the first they influenced society.\nSociety had need of strong efforts to preserve its life in the\nterrible crisis through which it had to pass. The secret of\nstrength is in the union of individual forces, in\n_association_. This secret has been taught to European\nsociety as by a revelation from heaven.\"\n\nSufficient attention has not perhaps been paid to the merit of\nthe industrial organization, introduced into Europe from the\nearliest ages, and which became more and more diffused after the\ntwelfth century. We allude to the trades-unions and other\nassociations, which, established under the influence of the\nCatholic religion, had pious foundations for the celebration of\ntheir feasts, and for assisting each other in their necessities.\n\nWe must recognize here that highly effective organizations of\nlabor had taken root in Europe, either by the initiative of the\nreligious orders, (to whom the north owed its civilization,) or\nin the congenial atmosphere of Catholicity; that in this\norganization, co-operation, the Christian spirit, had supplanted\nor prevented internecine competition, the secular spirit; that\nthis system of labor rendered pauperism impossible and elevated\nthe working classes to a plane of virtue, of dignity and\nprosperity elsewhere unattained; that it had conquered and kept\nits ground against feudal oppression and aggression, by a series\nof bloodless battles in which wisdom and patience, self-control\nand forethought, perseverance and the love of honorable uses,\nvindicated the political superiority of the Christian principle;\nfinally that it possessed within itself vigorous reproductive or\npropagative forces, and had indeed become the manifest destiny of\nEurope at that epoch when schism in the church sowed everywhere\nhatreds and discord, and denatured civilization, substituting the\nideal of individualism for that of solidarity.\n{736}\nHence, incoherence and destructive competition alike in the\nmarket as in the church. For labor, its result is pauperism; for\npiety, despair.\n\nBesides the religious motives which brought property into the\nhands of the monks, there is another title, remarks Balmes, which\nhas always been regarded as one of the most just and legitimate.\nThe monks cultivated waste lands, dried up marshes, constructed\nroads, restrained rivers within their beds, and built bridges\nover them. Over a considerable portion of Europe, which was in a\nstate of rude nature, the monasteries founded here and there have\nbeen centres of agriculture and the arts of social life. Is not\nhe who reclaims the wilderness, cultivates it, and fills it with\ninhabitants, worthy of preserving large possessions there?\n\nThe religious and moral influence of the monks contributed\ngreatly, in early European epochs, to the respect of property as\nwell as persons against attacks which were so frequent in the\nturbulent ages succeeding the overthrow of the Roman empire by\nbarbarian nations, that in some countries almost every castle was\na den of robbers, from which its chief overlooked the country and\nsallied forth to collect spoils.\n\nThe man who is constantly obliged to defend his own is also\nconstantly led to usurp the property of others: the first thing\nto do to remedy so great an evil was to locate and fix the\npopulation by means of agriculture, and to accustom them to\nrespect property, not only by reasons drawn from private\ninterest, but also by the sight of large domains belonging to\nestablishments regarded as inviolable, and against which a hand\ncould not be raised without sacrilege. Thus religious ideas were\nconnected with social ones, and they slowly prepared an\norganization which was to be completed in more peaceable times.\n\nIt is to the protection afforded to farmers by the monasteries in\nretired places that we owe the dissemination of the people in\nrural districts, which would have been otherwise impossible.\nThose who have lived in a country convulsed by war, like our\nSouth, can best appreciate this.\n\nMallet (_History of the Swiss_, vol. i. p. 105, a Protestant\nauthority) tells us that \"the monks softened by their\ninstructions the ferocious manners of the people, and opposed\ntheir credit to the tyranny of the nobility, who knew no other\noccupation than war, and grievously oppressed their neighbors. On\nthis account the government of monks was preferred to theirs. The\npeople sought them for judges, (that is, as umpires.) It was a\nusual saying that it was better to be governed by the bishop's\ncrosier than the monarch's sceptre.\"\n\nThe kindness and charities performed by the religious orders,\nremarks Cobbett, (_History of the Protestant Reformation_,)\nmade them objects of great veneration, and the rich made them in\ntime the channels of their benevolence to the poor. Kings,\nqueens, princes, princesses, nobles, and gentlefolk founded\nmonasteries and convents, that is, erected the buildings and\nendowed them with estates for their maintenance.\n{737}\nOthers--some in the way of atonement for their sins, and some\nfrom a pious motive, gave while alive, or bequeathed at their\ndeath, lands, houses, or money to monasteries already erected. So\nthat in time the monasteries became the owners of great landed\nestates; they had the lordship over innumerable manors, and had a\ntenantry of prodigious extent, especially in England, where the\nmonastic orders were always held in great esteem, in consequence\nof Christianity having been introduced into the kingdom by a\ncommunity of monks.\n\nOne of the greatest advantages attending the monasteries in the\npolitical economy of the country was that they of necessity\ncaused the revenues of a large part of the lands to be spent on\nthe spot whence those revenues arose. The hospitals and all the\nother establishments of the kind had the same tendency, so that\nthe revenues of the land were diffused immediately among the\npeople at large. We all know how the state of a parish changes\nfor the worse when a great land-owner quits his mansion in it,\nand leaves that mansion shut up, and what an effect this has upon\nthe poor-rates. What, then, must have been the effect of twenty\nmonasteries in every county, expending constantly a large part of\ntheir incomes on the spot? If Ireland had still her seven hundred\nor eight hundred monastic institutions, there would be no\nperiodical famines and typhus fevers there; no need of sunset or\nsunrise laws shutting the people up at night to prevent\ninsurrections; no projects for preventing the increase of\nfamilies; no schemes for getting rid of a \"_surplus\npopulation_;\" no occasion for the people to live on third-rate\npotatoes--not enough, at that; for their nakedness, their hunger,\ntheir dying of hundreds with starvation, while their ports are\ncrowded with ships carrying provisions from their shores, and\nwhile an army is fed in the country, the business of which army\nis to keep the starving people quiet.\n\nSir Walter Scott thus exposes the nonsense of the \"economists on\nthe non-influence of absenteeism.\" In the year 1817, when the\npoor stood so much in need of employment, a friend asked the Duke\nof Buccleugh why his grace did not prepare to go to London in the\nspring? By way of answer, the duke showed him a list of laborers\nthen employed in improvements on his different estates; the\nnumber of whom, exclusive of his regular establishments, amounted\nto nine hundred and forty-seven men, who, with those whose\nsupport depended on their wages, would reckon several thousand;\nmany of whom must have found it difficult to obtain subsistence\nhad the duke not foregone the privilege of his rank in order to\nprovide with more convenience for them. The result of such\nconduct is twice blessed, both in the means which it employs and\nin the end which it attains in the general economy of the\ncountry. This anecdote forms a good answer to those theorists who\npretend that the residence of proprietors on their estates is, a\nmatter of indifference to the inhabitants of the district. Had\nthe duke been residing and spending his revenues elsewhere,\none-half of these poor people would have wanted employment and\nfood, and would probably have been little comforted by any\nmetaphysical arguments upon population which could have been\npresented to their investigation.\n\n\"Many such things may be daily heard,\" says Howitt, \"of the\npresent Duke of Portland.\"\n\n{738}\n\nThe monks, whose religious character gave them an extraordinary\nsecurity, as they were the first restorers of agriculture, so\nthey were the first improvers of our gardens. Their long\npilgrimage from one holy shrine to another, through France,\nGermany, and Italy, made them early acquainted with a variety of\nculinary and medicinal herbs and various fruits, and amongst the\nruins of abbeys we still find a tribe of plants that they have\nnaturalized.\n\nLingard, writing of the consequences of the \"_Reformation_,\"\ntells us that \"within the realm poverty and discontent generally\nprevailed. The extension of inclosures, and the new practice of\nletting lands at rack-rents, had driven from their homes numerous\nfamilies whose fathers had occupied the same farms for several\ngenerations, and the increasing multitudes of the poor began to\nresort to the more populous towns in search of that relief which\nhad been formerly distributed at the gates of the monasteries.\nThe reformation preachers of the day--Knox, Lever, Gilpin,\nLatimer--avow that the sufferings of the indigent were treated\nwith indifference by the hard-heartedness of the rich; while, in\nthe pursuit of gain, the most barefaced frauds were justified,\nrobbers and murderers escaping punishment by the partiality of\njuries or corruptions of judges. They tell us that church-livings\nwere given to laymen or converted to the use of the patrons,\"\netc.\n\nIn dealing with that shameful _pauperism_, the annual\nreports of which ring in the ears of the British\ngovernment--\"_mene, mene, tekel, upharsin_\" which presaged\nthe fall of Babylon--it behoves us to distinguish the victim poor\nand the _fighting poor_. The fighting poor exasperate the\nevils of poverty by ineffective insurrections against the\norganized government of the rich. Protesting against injustice\nand maladministration by strikes, which they cannot sustain, and\nwhich soon leave them at the mercy of the employers they have\ndefied, they provoke the severity of the laws by disorderly\nconduct, by poaching, robbery, arson, etc., necessitating the\nmaintenance of a numerous and rigorous police, and even of\nstanding armies. These withdraw great numbers from productive\nindustry, and double the expenses of government, which must, at\nlast, be borne by the working classes, however indirect the\nmethods of taxation. It is true that the aristocracy in command\nof armies could enrich England by the spoil of India, or Spain by\nthat of Mexico and Peru; but these ill-gotten gains have cursed\nalike the robber and the robbed. No country has ever maintained a\nreal prosperity except by home production and the contentment of\nits producing classes. The _fighting poor_, not organized in\narmies under the discipline and pay of governments, but remaining\nan integral part of the people, are intimately leagued with the\n_victim poor_ by family ties, and even by the imminence of a\ncommon fate, since a wound, a fit of illness, a fraud, the\nprolonged lack of work, or other misfortune, may depress them\ninto pauperism. This class of poor is the most dangerous element\nof a nation, and costs in waste and in precautions a great deal\nmore than the sum expended in pauper relief. An administrative\nmethod which conciliates this class with the rich, with the\nestablished government and public order, is evidently master of\nthe situation. This end has been achieved by the religious\norganization of labor.\n\n{739}\n\nWhat the Catholic Church once did for England, under military\nfeudalism, she can do again, and more, because the present\nfinancial and industrial feudalism is pacific in its tendencies\nand susceptible of being harmonized with the interests of the\nchurch and of labor by co-operative association; whereas the\nformer feudalism existed for war, was essentially opposed to the\nspirit of Christianity, to the honor of productive industry, and\nthe prosperity of the people. Now, what is cure for Great Britain\nmay be prevention for America, which undergoes, like England, the\nyoke of industrial feudalism. Allowing for the category of\naccidents, for relief needed by the infirm, etc., vastly the\nlarger proportion of pauperism remains to be prevented by\nopportune employments, of which the soil serves as the basis. Let\nthe religious orders reacquire everywhere, by all legitimate\nmeans, the control of large bodies of land, which they shall\nwithhold from speculation, which they shall either administrate\nby leases or by direct culture, and on which they shall establish\nthe arts of fabrication. Then they may subdue the world with its\nown weapons, commanding capital and labor, conciliating them in\nChristian action, and producing wealth without sacrificing the\nproducer to the product. They would lease farms or hire workmen\naccording to local and temporary expediency, but in either case\nthey would constitute, as of old, a bulwark between the people\nand speculators, and they would reattach the masses by intimate\nhousehold ties. This begins as of old with the voluntary\nassumption of social burdens, especially with the care of the\nsick and infirm. By organizing a high order of attractive social\nlife at its rural institutions, where it is so much easier to\nfind healthful work for either sex and every age, the church will\ncounteract that destructive fascination which the city now exerts\nover the country-folk. In restoring and upholding an order of\nyeomanry, subject to its general administration of agriculture,\nbut free in a scope of action sufficient to content them, within\na predetermined plan, the Catholic Church would counterpoise the\npresent league of the Church of England with its aristocracy, as\nits corporate philanthropies would counterpoise the corporate\nselfishness of simple business firms.\n\nPursuing the noble initiative which the Jesuit order took in the\nwork of education, especially in Paraguay, it remains for the\nchurch to second the views of American legislation in the\nfoundation of art and labor-schools, or agricultural and\npolytechnic institutes, for the support of which public lands\nwere appropriated in 1842, although Minnesota alone has had the\nwisdom to protest against the malversation of this fund to the\ncomparatively sterile work of our common schools.\n\nIt is not by any means an unreasonable assumption that, after a\nfew years of experience and discipline for the teachers, art and\nlabor-schools, embracing all the departments of rural and\ndomestic economy with religious and social training, may be made\nself-supporting. From that day their popularity will be assured,\nand pauperism will be well-nigh eradicated, together with the\nvices and crimes which it engenders. The diploma of such an\ninstitution might confer either a lease of land or an appointment\nto some office of social use and profit. The administration of\nthe schools and charities of the church would supply a great many\nsuch places.\n\n{740}\n\nWe shall not ask whether it be not expedient and just to oblige\nevery family, in so far as it may be competent, to provide for\nits own poor, because modern civilization has not the patriarchal\nbasis, the family has no such collective unity or substantial\nexistence among us, as formerly in Palestine, or still in the\nArab _douar_. At most can the family be held responsible for\nits minors, since its authority does not extend beyond this\nclass; but we remark that the largest proportion of pauperism is\ndue to the neglect of efficient education during the years of\nminority; so that with the actual population of the world, and\neven in the most thickly settled countries, there need be no such\nthing as pauperism, if the productive energies of the whole\npeople received during childhood and youth a practical direction;\nwhile the diplomas of our labor and art-schools conferred valid\ntitles to the use of the soil or other means of remunerative\nemployment. If to organize such education for the children of\npoor families be regarded as beyond the province of our\ngovernments or secular powers, how much more extravagant must\nthis seem for the children of the rich, who are, however, exposed\nevery day to become poor, and whose wasteful idleness subtracts\nso much from the possible resources of mankind? Is it not\nself-evident that the influence of religious organizations has\nevery advantage over secular authority in reforming education\nwhile rendering it universal? At once personal and corporate,\nthey can take an initiative which is refused to governments or\nwhich governments decline. Now, as in the middle ages, in\ncivilized as in savage or barbarous states, they can restore to\nlabor its religious honor, they alone can successfully combat the\nidleness and vices of fashionable dissipation, they can\nsubstitute the arbitrament of Christian equity for that of fire\nand sword, and while pouring oil on our troubled waters, they can\nteach by example as well as by precept, those wholesome\nrestraints which prevent the increase of a local population\nfaster than the means of its subsistence.\n\nIf pauperism in this country is chiefly exotic, it is none the\nless real, and none the less afflictive or disastrous. If an\nobvious remedy exist in our vast tracts of unoccupied land, it is\nso much the more urgent to organize while directing the tide of\nemigration by the spirit of Christianity. By colonizing emigrants\nunder the guidance of religious orders we obviate the twofold\nevils of their pauperism and their isolation.\n\n ----------\n\n The Iliad Of Homer.\n\n Rendered Into English Blank Verse\n By Edward, Earl Of Derby.\n\n\nIt is our custom, or that of our time, to decry classical\neducation. We have a right to do so, no doubt, if our unfavorable\njudgment regarding it is based upon a correct and intelligent\nestimate of its value, as a method of training the youthful mind\nand of disciplining the intellect by the exercise of its nascent\npower upon works of model taste and unrivalled elegance.\nSubmitting classical education to this test, we cannot glibly\njoin in the outcry against it of those who see in it only a\nprocess for acquiring a knowledge of Greek and Latin words, of no\nearthly use to the possessor or to anybody else.\n{741}\nNeither, on the other hand, would we, upon such test, accept it\nas the only canon of liberal education, to the exclusion of\nothers that may serve the purpose of instruction with more\npractical advantage.\n\nWe would fain offer Earl Derby's translation of the _Iliad_\nas an example, according to our notion, of the practical process\nto be followed in studying the classic authors in order to profit\nby their beauty, and of the gifts the mind receives from the\ncultivation of classic literature. Not a poet himself, the noble\nlord has imbibed into his own plastic mind the conceptions of the\n\"sovereign poet\" in all their poetic beauty and serene grandeur,\nand reproduces them for the English reader, shapely moulded, not\ndistorted nor disfigured. We shall not enter into a comparison of\nhis translation with that of Pope or Cowper, neither shall we\ndiscuss the fitness of the metre he has adopted. His own\ntranslation, if argument were wanted, would compel us to agree\nwith him that he has selected that metre best suited for\nrendering the Homeric poem into English verse, and we give him\nour hearty accord in his condemnation of the English hexameter--\na lumbering rhythm, not inaptly compared, by some author, to the\nnoise of pumpkins rolling on a barn-floor. We shall merely show,\nby a few extracts, how he has succeeded in reproducing the\nconceptions of the poem, and how happily he has caught, without\nimparting any admixture of modern sentiment, the flowing style in\nwhich the poet pours forth, as it were, without drawing breath,\nhis grand melodious strain. His translation is not a dead cast,\nbut a copy, and a copy instinct with life. His task was not an\neasy one; and when we reflect upon his life and eminent station,\nwe cannot help thinking that to ordinary men the difficulty would\nbe much enhanced thereby. Still, it redounds the more to the\nhonor of English scholarship and English statesmanship, that the\nforemost among its orators and statesmen, who, for more than a\nquarter of a century, has borne a large share of the weighty\naffairs of a vast empire; who by his talents has helped to solve\nthe thousand vexed questions of modern politics and reform,\ncould, during leisure, withdraw his mind from the absorbing\ninterests of the political arena, and allow it to repose on the\nsublime naturalness of the _Iliad_, and float in placid\nunison with the serene grandeur of Homer's song. Though the\ntranslation is truly Homeric, yet, wrought as it is with spirit\nand genius, it bears in it something of the mind it springs from.\nThe reader will not fail to discover in the echo of the\n_Iliad_, so faithfully reflected in its purity, natural\nfreshness, and vigor, something of that splendid eloquence heard\namid strife as angry and as fierce as raged between Agamemnon and\nAchilles.\n\nIn giving quotations, we shall omit those finer passages that are\nfamiliar to most readers, such as those well-known passages of\nthe Third Book, with their beautiful similes, that describe the\nGreeks assembling and passing in review before their leaders. On\nthese many a youthful and full-grown bard has tried his skill;\nbut never have we seen them so beautifully rendered as in the\ntranslation before us. We select for our readers, first, that\npicture in the Fourth Book, in which all the raging elements of\nbattle are thronged together--the maddening vengeance, the wrath,\nthe fury of hostile ranks in the horror of collision--and which\ncommences with the description of\n\n{742}\n\n \"Discord unappeased, 504\n Of blood-stained Mars the sister and the friend;\n With humble crest at first, anon her head,\n While yet she treads the earth, affronts the skies.\n The gage of battle in the midst she threw,\n Strode through the crowd and woe to mortals wrought,\n When to their midst they came, together rushed 510\n Bucklers and lances, and the furious might\n Of mail-clad warriors; bossy shield on shield\n Clattered in conflict; loud the clamor rose.\n Then rose two mingled shouts and groans of men\n Slaying and slain; the earth ran red with blood, 513\n As when descending from the mountain's brow,\n Two wintry torrents from their copious source\n Pour downward to the narrow pass, where meet\n Their mingled waters in some deep ravine,\n Their weight of flood; on the far mountain side 520\n The shepherd hears the roar; so loud arose\n The shouts and yells of those commingling hosts.\"\n\nNothing can give a better idea of the power of the translator\nthan the manner in which he has compressed this passage, with its\nbewildering throng of elements, into the same number of lines as\nthe original. We miss none of the simple grandeur, none of the\n_directness_, none of the even, rapid movement so\ncharacteristic of Homer. There is no importation of what belongs\nnot to Homer into it, no amplification, no turning aside from the\nobject, or indirectness in introducing and depicting every\nincident in the picture. It is Homer's strain; grand, rapid, and\nsimple.\n\nA few lines further on we have one of those beautiful images by\nwhich the poet has a fondness for describing the fall of his\nyoung heroes. Depicting the death of the stripling Simoisius, he\nsings:\n\n \"Prone in the dust he fell; 552\n As some tall poplar, grown in marshy mead,\n Smooth-stemmed, with boughs up-springing toward the head.\"\n\nAgain of young Gorgythion, in the Eighth Book:\n\n \"Down sank his head, as in a garden sinks\n A ripened poppy charged with vernal rains; 350\n So sank his head beneath his helmet's weight.\"\n\nAnd of Asius, in the Thirteenth Book:\n\n \"He fell as falls an oak, or poplar tall,\n Or lofty pine.\"\n\nThese passages are placed together as containing some of the\npoet's favorite and beautiful images, and as showing how happy\nthe translator has been in rendering them with truthfulness to\ntheir natural grace.\n\nEarl Derby is not less successful in reproducing the deep\ntenderness and moving pathos that form a conspicuous feature of\nthe _Iliad_. We quote from the Sixth Book, from the\naffecting scene between Hector and Andromache; but, instead of\nAndromache's words, so well known through Pope's translation, we\ngive the answer of the noble Hector, the hero of the\n_Iliad_, in which, with soul-felt tenderness, he seeks to\nconsole his desponding wife: [Footnote 280]\n\n [Footnote 280: To illustrate what we mean by the directness,\n simplicity, and even rapid movement of Homer's verse, we cite\n here from a popular English poet an extract which, though not\n a parallel to the above, is somewhat kindred; it is the first\n at hand, and will serve our purpose.\n\n \"Trust me, whatever fate my soul may gall,\n Thou at thy woman's choice shall ne'er repine.\n Trust me, whatever storm on me may fall,\n This man's true heart shall ward the bolt from thine.\n Hark, where the bird from yon dark ilex breathes\n Soul into night so be thy love to me;\n Look, when around the bird the ilex wreathes\n Still sheltering boughs, so be my love to thee!\n O dweller in my heart! the music thine;\n And the deep shelter--wilt thou scorn it? mine.\"\n\n It will be observed, in reading these exquisite lines, how\n complex is the web of thought; how the artist, as it were,\n lingers to work into it embroidery of words and images\n borrowed from foreign objects. In Homer there is nothing but\n the natural artless flow of feeling; the even movement, as it\n springs from the soul, is not crossed by shadow or image from\n any other object, nor does it diverge this way or that to\n borrow of other sources in metaphor or comparison, tone,\n color, or pathos. The movement in Homer is natural, direct,\n even, rapid; and yet this natural, simple, deep gush of\n feeling presents to us a most truthful, touching, and\n expressive picture of a soul overwhelmed with tender love and\n sorrow commingled, but facing the stern task of duty.]\n\n\n \"Think not, dear wife, that by such thoughts as these 512\n My heart has ne'er been wrung; but I should blush\n To face the men and long-robed dames of Troy,\n If, like a coward, I could shun the fight.\n Nor could my soul the lessons of my youth\n So far forget, whose boast it still has been\n In the forefront of battle to be found,\n Charged with my father's glory and mine own.\n Yet in my inmost soul too well I know 520\n The day must come when this our sacred Troy,\n And Priam's race, and Priam's royal self,\n Shall in one common ruin be o'erthrown.\n But not the thoughts of Troy's impending fate,\n Nor Hecuba's, nor royal Priam's woes, 525\n{743}\n Nor loss of brethren, numerous and brave,\n By hostile hands laid prostrate in the dust,\n So deeply wring my heart as thoughts of thee,\n Thy days of freedom lost, and led away\n A weeping captive by some brass-clad Greek. 530\n Haply in Argos, at a mistress' beck,\n Condemned to ply the loom, or water draw\n From Hypereia's or Messais' fount.\n Heart wrung, by stern necessity constrained,\n Then they who see thy tears perchance may say, 535\n 'Lo! this was Hector's wife, who, when they fought\n On plains of Troy, was Ilium's bravest chief!'\n Thus may they speak, and thus thy grief renew\n For loss of him who might have been thy shield\n To rescue thee from slavery's bitter hour. 540\n Oh! may I sleep in dust ere be condemned\n To hear thy cries and see thee dragged away.\"\n\nThe opinion of Lord Derby's oratory, entertained on this side of\nthe Atlantic, may tempt those who admire it to think that in this\ntranslation his splendid eloquence and vigorous language would\nhave their fitting scope in depicting the scenes of camp and\nfield, in transmitting, lifelike, those angry encounters in the\ncouncils of gods and men; but, that the most tender and delicate\ntones of human feeling are not alien to his speech, is amply\nproved by the lines we have quoted. The same deep chord of\nfeeling is struck by the words and modulations of this beautiful\npassage that vibrates in the pathetic language and melody of the\nIonian bard.\n\nWe add another of those magnificent incidents of the\n_Iliad_, where the struggle of warriors on the very brink of\nbattle is so grandly described by the poet. In the Thirteenth\nBook, the Greeks, closely massed under the Ajaces,\n\n Waited the Trojan charge, by Hector led\n Spear close to spear, and shield by shield o'erlaid,\n Buckler to buckler pressed, and helm to helm,\n And man to man, the horse-hair plumes above,\n That nodded on the warriors' glittering crests,\n Each other touched, so closely matched they stood.\n Backward, by many a stalwart hand, were drawn\n The spears, in act to hurl; their eyes and minds\n Turned to the front and eager for the fray.\n On poured the Trojan masses; in the van\n Hector straight forward urged his furious course:\n As some huge boulder, from its rocky bed\n Detached, and by the wintry torrent's force\n Hurled down the cliff's steep face, when constant rains\n The massive rock's firm hold have undermined,\n With giant bounds it flies; the crashing wood\n Resounds beneath it, still it hurries on,\n Until, arriving at the level plain,\n Its headlong impulse checked, it rolls no more;\n So Hector, threatening now through ships and tents\n Even to the sea to force his murderous way,\n Anon, confronted by that phalanx firm,\n Halts close before it.\"\n\nThis truly fine passage is the perfection of Homeric poetry. We\ndoubt if pen or brush has ever produced a picture abounding so\nmuch in life and action. The marvellous combination of objects\npresented to view in these lines, each heightening the effect of\nthe other, and all blending into one tumultuous action, stirred\nby the fiery spirit of war, gives us a grand and terrific\npicture. In reading it, with almost the noise and din and the\nfray of warring men ringing in the words employed in the\ntranslation, we feel as if we had never before been enabled, by\nany English version, to enter into the full spirit of Homer\nhimself.\n\nWe give a last quotation from the closing scene of the poem,\nwhere the cry of mourning Troy is raised over the lifeless body\nof its brave defender. The wail of his wife and of his mother has\nbeen heard; but there remains one other, the beauteous Helen,\nwhose fatal charms had deluged the plains of Troy with blood, had\ninflicted on the lifeless hero on whom she now gazes in sadness\nmany a day of toil and many an hour of pain, and now had crowned\nthe heap of Ilium's sorrows with this last scene of woe. Her\nwords of love commingled with self-reproach, are the highest\ntribute the poet could pay, in his closing verse, to the hero\nwhom, throughout his song, he endows with all the noblest traits\nof son, of patriot, of brother, and of husband.\n\n \"Hector, of all my brethren dearest thou!\n True, godlike Paris claims me as his wife,\n Who bore me hither--would I then had died!\n But twenty years have passed since here I came\n And left my native land; yet ne'er from thee 895\n I heard one scornful, one degrading word.\n And when from others I have borne reproach,\n Thy brothers, sisters, or thy brothers' wives\n Or mother, (for thy sire was ever kind\n Even as a father,) thou hast checked them still\n With kindly feeling and with gentle words:\n For thee I weep, and for myself no less;\n For through the breadth of Troy, none love me now,\n None kindly look on me, but all abhor.\"\n\n{744}\n\nIn the portions of Lord Derby's translation we have here given,\nwe have not selected what are universally regarded as the most\nbeautiful passages of the poem. We have selected such passages as\nfrom their crowded incidents, their bewildering throng of\nobjects, their rapid succession of scenes or deep and tender\npathos, appeared to us the most difficult for the translator to\nreproduce. We doubt if there be a student of Homer who will fail\nto find them a transcript of the poet's meaning, with almost\nliteral exactness, as well as a copy of the genius and spirit of\nthe poem. We had purposed selecting some passages which would\ngive our readers a sample of his manner of rendering the Homeric\nepithets. The beauty of the few occurring in the above extracts\nwill not escape them. Students of Homer are aware how constantly\nhe appends distinctive epithets to persons, things, and places.\nTo translate these wherever they occur would give a strange,\nunnatural cast to the poem. The English language, not like the\nplastic Greek, could not bear along the burden of them; besides,\nmany of them would require an awkward paraphrase, which would\nonly add words, not vividness or distinctness, to the thought of\nthe poet. Lord Derby has wisely and discriminately dealt with\nthese; when he renders them, he does so with so much exactitude\nand expressive force, that we feel rise within us, at this late\nhour, a sigh of regret that we had not at our hand his version of\nthem, when we were students of Homer. In reading the translation\nthrough, we cannot say where we would have an epithet added that\nhas been omitted, or where we would have stricken it out where it\nhas been preserved. We said that the translation is a copy of the\n_Iliad_--a copy produced with genius and spirit. It will be\nread with pleasure by the classical scholar, to whom it will\nrecall in their freshness and grandeur the scenes of that poem\nwhich charmed him in years long past. It will be welcomed by the\ngeneral reader, who has not before tasted the charms of Homer's\nsong, and who will gratefully acknowledge it as a new treasure to\nthe storehouse of English literature. In it--and in the life of\nthe noble author, whose devotedness to classical literature could\nnot have lived through his busy political life, did he not in his\nown inward consciousness ever find the great benefit and elegant\npleasure he had gained from it--is furnished for the public at\nlarge the strongest argument we know against banishing classical\neducation from our schools and colleges.\n\n----------\n{745}\n\n Lines written by Theodulphus.\n\n Translated From The Latin.\n\n\n Lines\n\n Written By Theodulphus, Bishop Of Orleans,\n A.D. 820, In A Copy Of The Holy Scriptures,\n Transcribed By His Own Hand.\n\n\n Light of God's law! divesting earth of gloom,\n More white than snows, more bright than starry skies,\n Beneath whose radiance good and virtue bloom--\n From whom all error flies.\n\n Blest word of God! gift of that wisdom, whence\n Springs life and light! what worth exceeds thy worth?\n Word that excels all words in sound and sense\n As heaven excels the earth.\n\n Whate'er of wonders human arts have taught\n Have here their fountain--hence derive their force;\n Of all the grand achievements of man's thought\n Here wells the living source.\n\n By day, by night here meditate, here school\n To holiness thy hands, and lips, and soul:\n Thou rulest others--be this book the rule\n That shall thyself control.\n\n This sharer of thy couch--joy of thine eyes,\n Clasped in thy arms and on thy knees shall rest;\n Thy watcher when soft slumber on thee lies--\n Thy earliest morning guest.\n\n Be not for knowledge only thy desire;\n In virtue's presence learning's light is dim:\n Deeds and not words the Almighty will require--\n Yet offer both to him.\n\n By ceaseless study learn, by actions teach,\n Untiring seek for Wisdom's pathway here.\n This meditate, a light thy heart will reach,\n And make all fair and clear.\n\n Who walks a tangled forest's briery way\n By frequent treading makes it broad and plain.\n And what the quick mind wins from day to day,\n Slow study doth retain.\n\n C. E. B.\n\n\n ----------\n\n{746}\n\n From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.\n\n The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.\n\n\n Chapter XXI.\n\n\nJerome of Saint-Quirin had made good his retreat upon the\nfarm-house.\n\n\"Who goes there?\" cried the sentries, as the party approached.\n\n\"People of the village of Charmes,\" replied Marc-Dives in his\nvoice of thunder.\n\nThey were recognized and allowed to pass.\n\nThe house was silent; a sentinel with shouldered arms paced in\nfront of the barn, where thirty partisans were sleeping upon the\nstraw. Catherine, at sight of the great dark roofs, the old\nsheds, the stables, the ancient dwelling where her youth had\npassed, where the peaceful and laborious lives of her father and\nher grandfather had tranquilly glided away, the home which she\nwas perhaps about to leave for ever, felt a terrible pain at her\nheart; but she spoke not of it, and springing from the sledge, as\nshe had often done before on her returning from market, she said:\n\n\"Come, Louise, we are home at last; thanks to God.\"\n\nOld Duchene had pushed open the door, crying,\n\n\"It is Madame Lefevre!\"\n\n\"Yes, it is we. Any news from Jean-Claude?\"\n\n\"No, madame.\"\n\nThen every one entered the huge kitchen.\n\nA few coals yet glowed upon the hearth, and, under the immense,\noverhanging chimney-piece, Jerome of Saint-Quirin was seated in\nthe shadow, in his great-coat; his long-pointed red beard hanging\non his breast; his thick staff between his knees, and his rifle\nleaning against the wall.\n\n\"Ha! good morning, Jerome!\" cried the old woman.\n\n\"Good morning, Catherine!\" answered the grave and solemn chief of\nGrossmann. \"You come from Donon?\"\n\n\"Yes. Things are going ill there, my poor Jerome. The Kaiserliks\nattacked the farm-house when we left the plateau. We could see\nonly white coats on every side. They began to cross the abatis--\"\n\n\"Then you think Hullin will be forced to abandon the road?\"\n\n\"It is possible, indeed, if Pivrette does not come to his\nassistance.\"\n\nThe partisans had neared the fire. Marc-Dives bent over the coals\nto light his pipe; as he rose, he cried:\n\n\"Jerome, I ask only one thing of you; I know that they fought\nwell where you commanded--\"\n\n\"They did their duty,\" interrupted the shoemaker; \"sixty men lie\nstretched on the side of Grossmann, who will bear witness to it\non the judgment-day.\"\n\n\"Yes; but who guided the Germans? They never could find of\nthemselves the pass of Blutfeld.\"\n\n\"It was Yegof--the fool Yegof,\" replied Jerome, and his gray\neyes, surrounded with deep wrinkles and thick white lashes and\nbrows, glittered through the darkness.\n\n\"Are you very sure of it?\"\n\n\"Labarbe's men saw him ascend, leading the others.\"\n\n{747}\n\nThe partisans gazed at each other with angry looks.\n\nAt the same moment, Doctor Lorquin, who had remained without to\nunharness his horse, pushed open the door, crying:\n\n\"The battle is lost! Here are our men from Donon. I have heard\nLagarmitte's horn.\"\n\nIt is easy to imagine the feelings with which this news was\nreceived. Every one thought of parent, friends, whom perhaps he\nwas never more to see, and all who were in the kitchen and the\nbarn rushed at once to the fields. Then Robin and Dubourg, posted\nas sentries, cried:\n\n\"Who goes there?\"\n\n\"France!\" replied a voice.\n\nAnd despite the distance, Louise, recognizing her father's voice,\nwould have fallen had not Catherine supported her.\n\nPresently a great number of steps echoed upon the frozen snow,\nand Louise, no longer able to contain herself, cried in a\ntrembling voice:\n\n\"Father Jean-Claude!\"\n\n\"I am coming,\" replied Hullin; \"I am coming.\"\n\n\"And my father?\" cried Frantz, rushing to the sabot-maker.\n\n\"He is with us, Frantz.\"\n\n\"And Kasper?\"\n\n\"He has received a little wound, but it is nothing: you will see\nthem both.\"\n\nCatherine threw herself into Hullin's arms.\n\n\"O Jean-Claude! what a happiness it is to see you again!\"\n\n\"Ay,\" replied he in a low tone; \"there are many who will never\nagain see those they love.\"\n\n\"Frantz!\" cried old Materne; \"hallo! this way.\"\n\nAnd on all sides, in the darkness, men sought each other, pressed\neach other's hands and embraced. Others called aloud for \"Vielau\"\nor \"Sapheri,\" but no voice replied.\n\nThen the calls grew hoarse, strangled, and finally ceased. The\njoy of some and the grief of others were in horrible contrast.\nLouise wept hot tears in Hullin's arms.\n\n\"Ah! Jean-Claude,\" said Mother Lefevre; \"you have much to learn\nof your daughter. Now I will tell you nothing, but we were\nattacked--\"\n\n\"Yes, we will talk of it by and by. Time presses,\" interrupted\nHullin. \"The Donon road is lost; the Cossacks may be here at\ndaybreak, and we have yet many things to do.\"\n\nHe entered the farm-house. All followed. Duchene had just thrown\na fagot upon the fire. Those faces, black with powder, but still\nbreathing the fire of battle; those garments, torn by\nbayonet-thrusts, some of them bloody, advancing from darkness\ninto the full light, offered a strange spectacle. Kasper, whose\nhandkerchief was bound around his forehead, had received a\nsabre-cut; his bayonet, blouse, and high blue cloth gaiters were\nstained with blood. Old Materne, thanks to his imperturbable\npresence of mind, came safe and sound from the fray. The remnants\nof the two troops of Jerome and Hullin were thus united. They\nshowed the same fierce countenances, animated by the same energy\nand desire for vengeance, save that the last, worn-out with\nweariness, sat wherever they might find room--on the fagots, the\nhearth--with their heads bowed upon their hands, and their elbows\nresting on their knees. The others looked around, unable to\nrealize that Hans, Juson, Daniel, had disappeared for ever, and\nexchanging questions followed by long periods of silence.\nMaterne's two sons held each other by the arms, as if each feared\nhe would lose his brother, and their father, behind them, leaning\nagainst the wall, gazed on with looks of delight.\n\n{748}\n\n\"They are there; I see them,\" he seemed to say. \"And they are\nfamous fellows, and both have escaped.\" The good man coughed, and\nwhen some one came to speak to him about Pierre, or Jacques, or\nNicolas--of a son or a brother--he replied at random, \"Ay, ay,\nthere are a good many stretched out yonder; but what would you\nhave? War is war. Your Nicolas did his duty. Be consoled.\" And\nthen he thought, \"My boys are out of the scrape, and that is the\nprincipal thing.\"\n\nCatherine set the table with Louise. Soon Duchene, returning from\nthe cellar with a cask of wine upon his shoulder, placed it on\nthe sideboard. He opened it, and each of the partisans presented\nhis glass, or cup, or pitcher, to the purple fountain, which gave\nback the leaping flames on the hearth in a thousand reflections.\n\n\"Eat and drink!\" cried the old mistress of the house. \"All is not\nyet ended; you will yet need strength. Frantz, hand me down those\nhams. Here are bread and knives. Be seated, my children.\"\n\nFrantz, with his bayonet, roasted the hams at the fire.\n\nBenches were brought forward; the men sat down, and ate with that\nkeen appetite which neither present grief nor thought of future\nevil can make mountaineers forget. But all this did not keep\nsorrow from the hearts of these brave fellows, and sometimes one,\nsometimes another, would stop, drop his fork, and leave the\ntable, saying,\n\n\"I have had enough.\"\n\nWhile the partisans thus recruited their strength, their chiefs\nmet in the neighboring hall to make their last determinations\nrelative to the defence. There were seated round the table,\nlighted by a tin lamp, Doctor Lorquin--his great dog Pluto near\nhim, watching with uplifted muzzle; Jerome in the recess of a\nwindow to the right; Hullin at the left, very pale. Marc-Dives,\nwith his elbow on the table and cheek resting in his hand, sat\nwith his back to the door, and showed only his brown profile and\none of the ends of his long moustache. Materne alone was\nstanding, as was his habit, leaning against the wall behind\nLorquin's chair, his rifle resting upon his foot. A murmur of\nvoices came from the kitchen.\n\nWhen Catherine, who was called by Jean-Claude, entered, she heard\na sort of groan which made her tremble. It was Hullin speaking.\n\n\"Do you think,\" he cried, in a burst of wild grief, \"that the\nfate of those brave sons, those white-haired fathers, moved not\nmy heart? Would I not gladly have died a thousand times that they\nmight live? You know not the woes with which this night has\noverwhelmed me. To lose life is but little; but to bear alone the\nburden of such a trust!\"\n\nHe was silent, but his trembling lip, the tear that coursed\nslowly down his cheek, showed how heavily that trust weighed upon\nhim, in a position where conscience itself hesitates and seeks\nsupport. Catherine noiselessly seated herself in the large\narm-chair on his left. After a few moments' pause, Hullin\nproceeded more calmly:\n\n\"Between eleven o'clock and midnight, Zimmer came crying that we\nwere turned; that the Germans were coming down from Grossmann;\nLabarbe was crushed; Jerome could hold out no longer. He said no\nmore. What was to be done? Could I retreat--abandon a position\nwhich had cost us so much blood--the Donon road, the way to\nParis? I were a wretch indeed to do so; but I had only three\nhundred against the four thousand at Grandfontaine, and I know\nnot how many descending the mountain.\n{749}\nBut cost what it might, I determined to hold out; it was our duty\nto do so. I thought that life is nothing void of honor; we might\nall die, but never would it be said that we yielded the road to\nFrance! Never, never, never!\"\n\nHis voice again trembled, and his eyes filled with tears as he\nadded:\n\n\"We held it--for more than two hours--my brave boys held it. I\nsaw them fall; they died crying, 'God save France!' When the\nbattle began, I sent word to Pivrette. He, with fifty men, came\nup--too late! too late! The enemy flanked us right and left; they\nheld three fourths of the plateau, and we were driven among the\nfirs toward Blanru, their fire crashing into our bosoms. All that\nI could do was to collect the wounded who could yet drag\nthemselves along, and place them under the escort of Pivrette; a\nhundred men joined him. I kept only fifty to occupy Falkenstein.\nWe cut through the Germans, who tried to cut off our retreat.\nHappily the night was dark, otherwise not one of us would have\nescaped. We are here, and all is lost. Falkenstein alone remains,\nand we are reduced to three hundred. Now we must try who will\ndare the bitter end. I tell you that my burden presses heavily\nupon me. While the Donon road was to be defended, our duty was\nclear; every man's life belonged to his country: but that road is\nlost; ten thousand men would be needed to regain it, and even now\nthe enemy are entering Lorraine. What is to be done?\"\n\n\"Resist to the last!\" replied Jerome.\n\n\"To the last!\" repeated the others.\n\n\"Is this your counsel, Catherine?\" asked Hullin.\n\n\"Ay!\" cried the old woman, with a glance of unconquerable\ndetermination.\n\nThen Hullin, in firmer tones, laid his plan before them:\n\n\"Falkenstein is our point of retreat. There is our arsenal; there\nare our munitions; the enemy knows this, and will attempt to\nstorm it. We must all be there to defend it; the eyes of all our\ncountrymen must see us; they will say that Catherine Lefevre,\nJerome, Materne and his sons, Hullin, Doctor Lorquin, are there;\nthat they will not lay down their arms. This will revive the\ndrooping courage of all who have hearts to feel for their\ncountry. Pivrette will remain in the woods; his force increasing\nday by day. The land will be covered with Cossacks, with robbers\nof every kind; and when the enemy's army has entered Lorraine, at\nmy signal Pivrette will fling himself between Donon and the road,\nand the laggards scattered through the mountains will be caught\nas in a net. We can also watch our chance to carry off their\nwagons, harass their reserves; and if fortune favors, as we hope,\nwhen those Kaiserliks are beaten by our troops in Lorraine, we\ncan cut off their retreat.\"\n\nAll rose, and Hullin, entering the kitchen, made this simple\nspeech to the mountaineers:\n\n\"My friends, we have determined to resist to the last.\nNevertheless each one is free to do as he pleases, to lay down\nhis arms and return to his village; but those who seek vengeance\nwill join us! They will share our last morsel of bread and divide\nour last cartridge.\"\n\nThe old wood-cutter, Colon, rose and replied:\n\n\"Hullin, we are all with you; we began the fight together, and\ntogether we will end it.\"\n\n\"Ay, ay!\" cried every voice.\n\n{750}\n\n\"This is your resolution? Then listen! Jerome's brother will take\ncommand.\"\n\n\"My brother is dead,\" interrupted Jerome; \"he lies on the side of\nGrossmann.\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence, and then Hullin continued:\n\n\"Colon, you will take command of all who remain, except those who\nformed the escort of Catherine Lefevre. I retain them with me.\nYou will rejoin Pivrette in the valley of Blanru.\"\n\n\"And our munitions?\" cried Marc-Dives.\n\n\"I have brought my wagon with me,\" said Jerome. \"Colon can supply\nhimself from it.\"\n\n\"Let them take the sledge too,\" cried Catherine. \"The Cossacks\nare coming, and they will steal everything. Our people must not\ngo away empty-handed; let them take with them oxen, cows, and\ngoats--everything; for whatever they take is so much won from the\nenemy.\"\n\nFive minutes after, the farm-house was a scene of pillage. The\nsledge was loaded with hams, smoked meats, and bread; the cattle\ndriven from the stables; the horses harnessed to the great wagon,\nand soon the train began its march, Robin at the head, blowing\nhis horn, and the partisans behind pushing at the wheels. When\nthey had disappeared in the woods, and silence suddenly succeeded\nthe tumult, Catherine, turning round, saw Hullin behind her as\npale as a corpse.\n\n\"Well, Catherine,\" he said; \"all is finished. We will begin the\nascent.\"\n\nFrantz, Kasper, and the men of the escort, Marc-Dives and\nMaterne, awaited them in the kitchen, resting on their arms.\n\n\"Duchene,\" said the good old woman, \"go down to the village; they\nmust not ill-treat you on my account.\"\n\nThe old servant, shaking his white head, replied with eyes full\nof tears:\n\n\"I might as well die here, Madame Lefevre. It is fifty years\nsince I came to this house. Do not force me away; that would kill\nme.\"\n\n\"As you will, my poor Duchene,\" answered Catherine, much\naffected. \"Here are the keys of the house.\"\n\nThe old man seated himself on a stool by the hearth, with eyes\nfixed and lips parted like one in some sad dream.\n\nThe others started for Falkenstein. Marc-Dives, on horseback, his\nlong blade hanging from his wrist, formed the rear-guard. Frantz\nand Hullin, on the left, reconnoitered the plateau, and Jerome,\non the right, the valley; Materne and the men of the escort\nsurrounded the women. Strange! At every threshold, at every\nwindow of the village of Charmes appeared faces, young and old,\ngazing with curious eyes at the flight of Mother Lefevre, and\nevil tongues were not wanting. \"Ah! driven from your nest at\nlast,\" they cried. \"You would meddle with what did not concern\nyou!\"\n\nOthers muttered aloud that Catherine had been rich long enough,\nand that all had their turn. As for the labor, the wisdom, the\nkindness of heart, the thousand virtues of the old mistress of\nBois-de-Ch\u00eanes, the patriotism of Jean-Claude, the courage of\nJerome and the three Maternes, the unselfishness of Doctor\nLorquin, the devotion of Marc-Dives--about all these things no\none had a word to say: their owners were beaten!\n\n{751}\n\n Chapter XXII.\n\nAt the bottom of the valley of Bouleaux, two musket-shots from\nthe village of Charmes, the little troop began slowly to ascend\nthe path leading to the ancient _burg_. Hullin, remembering\nhow he had taken the same path when he had gone to buy powder of\nMarc-Dives, could not repress his grief. Then, notwithstanding\nhis visit to Phalsbourg, the sight of the wounded from Hanan and\nLeipsic, the story of the old sergeant, he despaired not; he kept\nall his energy alive, and never doubted the success of the\ndefence. But now all was lost; the enemy were descending upon\nLorraine, and the mountaineers flying. Marc-Dives rode along the\nwall in the snow; his great horse, accustomed to the journey,\nneighing, lifting his head and then dropping it beneath his\nchest. The smuggler turned from time to time to throw a glance at\nthe opposite field of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes. Suddenly he cried:\n\n\"Ha! the Cossacks are showing themselves.\"\n\nAt this exclamation the entire party halted to look around. They\nwere already high above the village, and even the farm. The gray\nwinter dawn was scattering the morning vapors, and in the hollows\nof the mountain side they saw a number of those wild horsemen,\npistol in hand, slowly approaching the old house. They were\nseparated like skirmishers, and seemed to fear a surprise. A few\nmoments after, others followed from the valley of Houx, then\nothers, and still others, all alike standing up in their stirrups\nto see further. The first, passing the farm-house and seeing\nnothing to fear, flourished their lances and turned half-way\nround. The rest came up at a gallop, like rooks following one of\ntheir number that rises in the air as if perceiving some prey. In\na few seconds the farm was surrounded, and the door pushed open.\nAnother minute and the windows flew out, shattered to pieces;\nfurniture, mattresses, linen followed from every side of the\nhouse at once. Catherine, with lips pressed tightly together,\ngazed calmly at all this destruction. For a long while she said\nnothing; but suddenly seeing Yegof strike Duchene with the shaft\nof his lance, and drive him from the house, she could not\nrestrain a cry of indignation.\n\n\"The wretch! coward! to strike a poor old man who can no longer\ndefend himself. Ah villain! if I had thee here!\"\n\n\"Come, Catherine,\" said Jean-Claude; \"we have seen enough, and\nthe sight does us no good.\"\n\n\"You are right,\" she replied; \"let us go. I cannot bear it.\"\n\nAs they ascended, the air grew keener. Louise, the child of the\ngypsies, with a little basket of provisions on her arm, clambered\nat the head of the troops. The blue sky, the plains of Alsace and\nLorraine, and at the verge of the horizon those of Champagne, the\nboundless immensity of space wherein sight was lost, inspired an\nenthusiasm in all. They seemed to have wings, to pierce the blue\nair like those great birds that glided from the tree tops over\nthe abysses, uttering their free and fearless cries. All the\nwretchedness of the world beneath, its injustice and its\nsuffering, were forgotten. Louise saw herself a child on the back\nof her mother--that poor wandering gypsy--and thought, \"I have\nnever since been happier; never had less of care; never laughed\nso much, sang so gayly, and yet we often lacked bread. Ah! those\ndear days gone!\" And the words of old songs rang in her ears.\n\nAs they neared the great red rock, crusted with its white and\nblack stones, and hanging over the precipice like the tower of\nsome grand cathedral, Louise and Catherine paused in ecstasy.\n{752}\nAbove, the sky seemed yet deeper; the path cut in the rock yet\nnarrower. The valleys stretching on till lost in distance, the\nboundless woods, the far-off lakes of Lorraine, the blue ribbon\nof the Rhine--all the glorious scene filled them with emotion,\nand the old woman said thoughtfully:\n\n\"Jean-Claude, He who lifted this rock to heaven, whose hand\nhollowed these valleys, who scattered these forests, those\nthickets, and even these little mosses upon his earth, will\nsurely render us what we deserve.\"\n\nWhile they gazed thus, standing upon the forest terrace of rock,\nMarc had led his horse to a neighboring cavern, and returned on\nfoot, saying, as he climbed before them.\n\n\"Be careful; you may slip.\"\n\nAt the same time he showed them, to the right, the blue\nprecipice, with the tops of the fir-trees so far down that they\nseemed at its base. All were silent until they reached the\nterrace where the vault began. Then they breathed more freely,\nand saw in the middle of the passage the smugglers Brenn,\nPfeifer, and Toubac, with their great grey cloaks and black\nslouched hats, seated by a fire which stretched all along the\nrock. Marc accosted them:\n\n\"Here we are! the Kaiserliks are victorious. Zimmer was killed\nlast night. Is Hexe-Baizel above?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Brenn; \"she is making cartridges.\"\n\n\"They may save us yet,\" said Marc. \"Keep your eyes open, and if\nany one ascends, fire on him.\"\n\nThe Maternes halted at the edge of the rock, and the three tall\nmen, with their hat-brims turned up, their powder-horns at their\nsides, their rifles on their shoulders, and their muscular limbs,\nand feet firmly planted on the point of the rock, stood, a\nstrange group, against the blue of the abyss. Old Materne, with\noutstretched arm, pointed far, very far away, to an almost\nimperceptible white spot among the firs, saying:\n\n\"Do you recognize that, my boys?\"\n\nAnd all three gazed with half-closed eyes.\n\n\"It is our house,\" replied Kasper.\n\n\"Poor Magredel!\" said the old hunter; \"how uneasy she must have\nbeen for the last week; how often has she prayed for us!\"\n\nMarc-Dives, who led the party, uttered a cry of surprise.\n\n\"Mother Lefevre,\" said he, stopping short, \"the Cossacks have set\nfire to your house!\"\n\nCatherine heard this news calmly, and walked to the edge of the\ncliff. Louise and Jean-Claude followed her. At the bottom of the\nabyss stretched a great white cloud, through which shone what\nseemed like a spark. That was all; but from time to time the\nbreeze blew aside the smoke and the fire appeared; the two high\ngables, standing darkly out from the flames, the ruined barn and\nthe blazing stables; then all again was hidden.\n\n\"It is nearly finished,\" said Hullin in a low tone.\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the old mistress of the burning dwelling; \"forty\nyears of toil and care are there turning to smoke. But no matter;\nthey cannot burn my good lands--my fine meadows of the Eichmath.\nWe will begin to labor once more; Gaspard and Louise will restore\nall that mischief. I am content. I repent of nothing I have\ndone.\"\n\nAt the end of a quarter of an hour, millions of sparks arose, and\nall the buildings fell--all save the dark gables. The party again\nclambered up the path; and as they reached the highest terrace,\nthe sharp voice of Hexe-Baizel was heard:\n\n{753}\n\n\"You, Catherine!\" she cried \"I never thought that you would come\nto see me in my poor den.\"\n\nBaizel and Catherine Lefevre had been school-girls together;\nthere was but little ceremony between them.\n\n\"Nor I,\" replied the latter; \"but in misfortune one is glad to\nfind a companion of one's childhood.\"\n\nBaizel seemed touched.\n\n\"Whatever is here is yours, Catherine,\" she cried. \"Everything.\"\n\nShe pointed to her poor stool, her broom of green twigs, and the\nfive or six logs on her hearth. Catherine gazed on all in silence\nfor a few moments, and then said:\n\n\"They are not very grand, but they are substantial, and the\nCossacks will not easily burn your house.\"\n\n\"No, they will not burn it,\" laughed Hexe-Baizel; \"they would\nneed all the trees in the county of Dabo to only warm the walls.\nHa, ha, ha!\"\n\nThe partisans, after many toils and dangers, felt the want of\nrepose. Each man hastened to place his musket against the wall\nand stretch himself on the floor. Marc-Dives opened the door of\nthe inner cavern for them, where they were at least sheltered,\nand then sallied forth with Hullin to examine the position.\n\n\n\n Chapter XXIII.\n\nOn the rock of Falkenstein, high in the blue air, rises a round\ntower, the base of which is broken and sunken. This tower,\ncovered with brambles, hawthorn, and myrtle, seems old as the\nmountain itself; it has survived French, Germans, and Swedes. Its\nstones and mortar have become a solid mass, from which it is\nalmost impossible to break the smallest fragment, and the whole\nstructure wears a gloomy air of mystery which bears back the mind\nto ages long past--ages which have no place in the memories of\nman. Here was Marc-Dives wont to lie in ambush when the wild\ngeese flew south--if he had nothing better to do; and here\nsometimes at night-fall, when their flocks pierced the fogs and\nswept round in a broad circle before going to rest, would he\nbring down two or three of their number--a feat which rejoiced\nthe heart of Hexe-Baizel, who wasted no time in preparing them\nfor the spit. Here too, in autumn, did Marc often set snares\namong the bushes, where the thrushes loved to perch; and to crown\nall, the old tower served him as a storehouse for his winter's\nstock of wood. How often was Hexe-Baizel, when the northern gales\nblew fierce, and the crashing of branches and groans of the\nneighboring forests rose like the dashing of a tempest-tost\nocean--how often then was Hexe-Baizel almost torn from that old\ntower and hurled to the opposite Kilberi! But her long fingers\nheld fast to the vines, and the wind only flapped her coarse hair\nabout her head.\n\nDives, perceiving that his wood, covered with snow and wet with\nevery rain, gave more smoke than flame, made a roof of planks for\nhis storehouse; and the smuggler relates that, while laying the\nrafters, he found a screech-owl white as snow, blind and feeble,\nbut provided with field-mice and bats in abundance. For this\nreason he called it the \"Grandmother of the country,\" supposing\nthat all the other birds fed it on account of its extreme old\nage.\n\nToward evening the partisans--placed on the lookout on every\nterrace of the rock--saw white uniforms appear in the surrounding\ngorges. Masses of men debouched from the depths on all sides at\nonce, showing an intention to blockade Falkenstein. Marc-Dives\nseeing this, became thoughtful. \"If they surround us,\" said he\nmusingly, \"we cannot procure provisions; we must surrender or die\nof hunger.\"\n\n{754}\n\nThe enemy's staff were plainly seen on horseback around the\nspring of the village of Charmes. There a stout officer was\nobserving the rock through a long field-glass; behind him was\nYegof, to whom he turned from time to time to question. The women\nand children of the village looked on at some distance away, as\nif enjoying the scene, and five or six Cossacks caracoled about.\nThe smuggler could bear no more; he took Hullin aside.\n\n\"Look,\" said he, \"at that long line of shakos glistening along\nthe Sarre, and nearer, those others running like hares through\nthe valley. They are Kaiserliks, are they not? Well, what are\nthey going to do, Jean-Claude?\"\n\n\"They are going to surround the mountain.\"\n\n\"That is clear. How many men do you think they have?\"\n\n\"From three to four thousand.\"\n\n\"Without counting those in the open country. Well, what would you\nhave Pivrette do with his three hundred men against that mass of\nvagabonds? I put the question frankly, Hullin!\"\n\n\"He can do nothing,\" replied brave Jean-Claude simply. \"The\nGermans know that our munitions are at Falkenstein; they fear a\nrising after they enter Lorraine, and wish to secure their rear.\nThe enemy's general sees that he cannot overcome us by force; he\nhas decided to reduce us by famine. All this, Marc, is surely\ntrue; but we are men; we will do our duty; we will die here!\"\n\nThere was a moment's silence. Marc-Dives knit his brows, but\nseemed not at all convinced.\n\n\"We will die?\" he repeated. \"I do not see why we should die; that\nidea did not enter our heads; there are too many people who would\nbe glad of it if we did.\"\n\n\"What would you do?\" asked Hullin shortly; \"do you want to\nsurrender?\"\n\n\"Surrender!\" cried the smuggler: \"do you take me for a coward?\"\n\n\"Then explain.\"\n\n\"This evening I start for Phalsbourg. I risk my neck passing\nthrough the enemy's lines; but I would rather do that than fold\nmy arms and die of hunger. I will enter the city the first sortie\nthat is made, when I will try and reach a gate. The commandant,\nMeunier, knows me; I have sold him tobacco for the last three\nyears. He, like you, served in Italy and Egypt. I will show him\nthe state of affairs. I will see Gaspard Lefevre. I will fix\nmatters so that they will probably give us a company. If we only\nget a uniform, we are saved--do you see, Jean-Claude? All of our\nbrave people who are left will join Pivrette, and, in any case,\nthey can deliver us. That is my idea; what do you think of it?\"\n\nHe gazed at Hullin, whose fixed and gloomy eye disturbed him.\n\n\"Is it not our only chance?\"\n\n\"It is an idea,\" replied Jean-Claude at length; \"I do not oppose\nit.\"\n\nAnd looking the smuggler straight in the eyes, he said:\n\n\"Will you swear to do your utmost to enter the city.\"\n\n\"I swear nothing,\" answered Marc, his brown cheeks flushing. \"I\nleave here all I possess--my wife, my goods, my comrades,\nCatherine Lefevre, and you, my oldest friend! If I do not return,\nI shall be a traitor; but if I return, you will explain, your\ndemand, Jean-Claude; we will clear up this little account between\nus.\"\n\n{755}\n\n\"Marc,\" said Hullin, \"forgive me. I have suffered too much; I was\nwrong; misfortune has made me distrustful. Give me your hand. Go;\nsave us; save Catherine; save my child! I say now to you, that\nour only hope lies in you.\"\n\nHullin's voice quivered. Dives softened, but he said:\n\n\"Very well, Jean-Claude; but in such a moment you should not have\nspoken so. Never let us again speak of it! I will leave my body\non the way or I will return to deliver you. I will start\nto-night. The Kaiserliks already surround the mountain. No\nmatter; I have a good horse, and I was always lucky.\"\n\nAt six o'clock darkness had fallen on every peak. Hundreds of\nfires flashing in the gorges showed where the Germans were\npreparing their evening meal. Marc-Dives descended, groping his\nway. Hullin listened for a few seconds to his comrade's\nfootsteps, and then turned, buried in thought, to the old tower,\nwhere he had established his headquarters. He lifted the thick\nwoolen curtain which closed the entrance, and saw Catherine,\nLouise, and the others gathered round a little fire, which\nlighted up the grey walls. The old woman, seated on an oaken\nblock, her hands clasped around her knees, gazed fixedly at the\nflame, her lips set tightly together, and her face seemingly\ntinged with a greenish tint in its extreme pallor. Jerome,\nstanding behind Catherine, his folded arms resting on his staff,\ntouched the slimy roof with his otter-skin cap. All were sad and\ndisheartened. Hexe-Baizel, who was lifting the cover of a great\npot, and Doctor Lorquin, scraping the old wall with the point of\nhis sabre, alone kept their accustomed looks.\n\n\"Here we are,\" said the doctor, \"returned to the times of the\nTriboci. These walls are more than two thousand years old. A fine\nquantity of water must have flowed from the heights of\nFalkenstein and Grossmann through the Sarre and the Rhine since\nfire was made before in this tower.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied Catherine, as if awakening from a dream, \"and many\nbesides us have here suffered cold, hunger, want. Who knows how\nmany? And when a hundred, or two or three hundred years shall\nhave passed, still others may here seek shelter. They, like us,\nwill find the walls cold and the floor damp. They will make a\nlittle fire, and gazing on each other as we now gaze, will ask,\nWho suffered here before us, and why did they suffer? Were they\npursued, hunted as we have been, that they would fain hide\nthemselves in such a miserable den? And then they will think of\nby-gone years, and no one may answer them!\"\n\nJean-Claude drew near. In a few moments, raising her head she\nsaid, as she looked at him:\n\n\"Well, we are blockaded; the enemy seeks to reduce us by famine.\"\n\n\"True, Catherine,' 5 replied Hullin. \"I did not expect that. I\ncounted on an attack; but the Kaiserliks are not yet so sure of\nus as they imagine. Dives has just started for Phalsbourg. He\nknows the commandant; and if they only send a hundred men to our\nsuccor--\"\n\n\"We must not rely on it,\" interrupted the old woman. \"Marc may be\ncaptured or killed; and even should he succeed in making his way\nthrough their lines, how could he enter Phalsbourg? You know the\ncity is besieged by the Russians.\"\n\nAll remained silent.\n\nHexe-Baizel soon brought some soup, and the party formed a circle\naround the great smoking pot.\n\n{756}\n\n Chapter XXIV.\n\n\nCatherine Lefevre came forth from the ruin at about seven o'clock\nin the morning. Louise and Hexe-Baizel were yet sleeping; but\nday--the brilliant day of the mountains--already flooded the\nvalleys. Far below, through the blue depths, forests, gorges,\nrocks, were outlined like the mosses and pebbles of a lake\nbeneath its crystal waters. Not a breath stirred the air, and\nCatherine, as she surveyed the grandeur of the scene, felt a\nsense of peaceful calm--of repose, greater even than that of\nsleep, steal over her. \"Our miseries, our unrest, and our\nsufferings are but of a day,\" she thought. \"Why disturb heaven\nwith our groans? Why dread the future? All these things endure\nbut a moment. Our plaints are as those of a butterfly when the\nleaves fall; they do not keep winter away. Time must end for all;\nwe must die that we may be born again.\"\n\nThus mused the old woman, and she no longer feared what might\nhappen. Suddenly a murmur of voices filled her ears; she turned\nand saw Hullin with the three smugglers, all earnestly talking,\non the opposite side of the plateau. They had not seen her, so\ndeeply did the subject of their conversation interest them.\n\nOld Brenn, at the edge of the rock, with a short, black pipe\nbetween his teeth, his cheeks wrinkled like a withered leaf,\nshort nose, grey moustache, bleared eye-lids, half-closed over\nreddish-brown eyes, and long great-coat sleeves hanging by his\nsides, gazed at the different points Hullin was showing them\namong the mountains; and the other two, wrapped in their gray\ncloaks, stepped forward or backward, shading their eyes with\ntheir hands, in deep attention.\n\nCatherine walked toward them, and soon she heard:\n\n\"Then you do not think it possible to reach the foot of the\nmountain?\"\n\n\"No, Jean-Claude; there is no way of doing so,\" answered Brenn;\n\"those villains know the country thoroughly, and all the paths\nare guarded. Look! there is the meadow of Chevreuils along that\nlake; no one ever even thought of watching it; but see, they are\nthere. And yonder, the pass of Rothstein--a mere goat-path, where\na man is scarcely seen once in ten years--you see a bayonet\nglisten behind the rock, do you not? And there, where I have\nclimbed for eight years with my sacks without ever meeting a\ngendarme, they hold that too. Some fiend must have shown them the\ndefiles.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" cried tall Toubac, \"the fiend Yegof.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Hullin, \"it seems to me that three or four stout men\nmight carry one of those posts.\"\n\n\"No; they are supported by each other; and the first shot fired\nwould bring a regiment upon us,\" replied Brenn. \"Besides, if we\ngot through, how could we return with provisions? It is\nimpossible!\"\n\nThere were a few moments of silence.\n\n\"Nevertheless,\" said Toubac, \"if Hullin wishes it, we will try\nall the same.\"\n\n\"Try what?\" cried Brenn. \"To lose our lives trying to escape, and\nleave the others in the toils? But it is all the same to me; if\nthe others go, I will. But as for talking about returning with\nprovisions, I say it is impossible. Which path will you take\ngoing, and which returning? Promises will not do here; we must\nact up to them. If you know a way, tell us. For twenty years I\nhave beaten the mountain with Marc. I know every path and pass\nfor ten leagues around; but I see none open now except through\nthe air.\"\n\n{757}\n\nHullin turned, and saw Mother Lefevre a few paces away, listening\nattentively.\n\n\"You here, Catherine!\" he exclaimed. \"Our affairs wear an ugly\nlook.\"\n\n\"Yes; I understand. There is no way of getting a supply of\nprovisions.\"\n\n\"Provisions!\" said Brenn, with a strange smile. \"Do you know,\nMother Lefevre, for how long we are supplied?\"\n\n\"For a fortnight, at least,\" replied Catherine.\n\n\"For a week,\" said the smuggler, shaking out the ashes of his\npipe on his nail.\n\n\"It is true,\" said Hullin. \"Marc-Dives and I believed that an\nattack would be made on Falkenstein; we never thought the enemy\nwould besiege it like a fortress. We were mistaken.\"\n\n\"And what is to be done?\" asked Catherine, growing pale.\n\n\"We must reduce each one's ration to half. If Marc does not\nreturn in a fortnight, we shall have no more. Then, indeed, we\nmust see what is to be done.\"\n\nSo saying, Hullin with Catherine and the smugglers, their heads\ndrooping, took the path to the notch. They reached the descent,\nwhen, thirty feet beneath them, they saw Materne climbing\nbreathlessly among the stones, and dragging himself along by the\nbushes to increase his speed.\n\n\"Well,\" cried Jean-Claude, \"what has happened?\"\n\n\"Ah! there you are. I was going to look for you. One of the\nenemy's officers is coming along the wall of the old _burg_,\nwith a little white flag. He seems to desire a parley.\"\n\nHullin, directing his steps toward the slope of the rock, saw,\nindeed, a German officer standing upon the wall, seemingly\nawaiting a sign to ascend. He was two musket-shots off, and\nfurther away were five or six soldiers, resting on their arms.\n\nAfter gazing a moment at the group, Jean-Claude turned, saying:\n\n\"It is a flag of truce coming to summon us to surrender.\"\n\n\"Fire on him!\" cried Catherine; \"we have no other answer.\"\n\nThe others all seemed inclined to do so, save Hullin, who,\nwithout speaking, descended to the terrace, where the rest of the\npartisans were gathered.\n\n\"My friends,\" said he, \"the enemy sends a flag of truce. We know\nnot what he wants. I suppose it is a summons to lay down our\narms; but it may be something else. Frantz and Kasper will go to\nmeet him. They will bandage his eyes at the foot of the rock, and\nlead him hither.\"\n\nNo one having any objection to make, the sons of Materne slung\ntheir carbines on their backs and departed. At the end of about\nten minutes the two tall hunters reached the officer; there was a\nrapid conference between them, after which all three began to\nclimb to Falkenstein. As they ascended, the uniform of the German\nofficer, and even his features, could be clearly seen. He was a\nlean man, with ashy flaxen hair, tall, well knit, and resolute in\nmovement and appearance. At the foot of the rock Frantz and\nKasper bandaged his eyes, and soon their steps were heard beneath\nthe vault. Jean-Claude went to meet them, and himself untied the\nhandkerchief, saying:\n\n\"You wish to communicate with me, sir. I am listening.\"\n\n{758}\n\nThe partisans stood some fifteen paces off. Catherine Lefevre,\nnearer, knitted her brows; her bony figure, long, hooked nose,\nthe three or four locks of gray hair which fell by chance upon\nher hollow temples, and down on her wrinkled cheeks, her tightly\npressed lips, and fixed gaze, seemed first to attract the\nofficer's attention; then the pale and gentle face of Louise\nbehind her; then Jerome, with his long, yellow beard and cloak;\nand old Materne leaning on his short rifle. He looked at the\nothers, and at the high, red vault, with its colossal mass of\ngranite hanging over the precipice, and covered only with a few\nbrambles. Hexe-Baizel, behind Materne, her long broom of twigs in\nher hands, her outstretched neck and feet, on the very, edge of\nthe rock, seemed to astonish him.\n\nHe himself was the object of much attention. His attitude and\nbearing, long face, finely-cut bronzed features, clear gray eye\nand thin mustache, the delicacy of his limbs, hardened by the\ntoils of war, all bespoke aristocratic lineage; and he had, too,\na look of shrewdness mingled with that of the man of the world,\nthe soldier, and the diplomatist.\n\nBut this mutual inspection was only the work of an instant. The\nofficer began, in good French:\n\n\"Is it the Commandant Hullin that I have the honor of\naddressing?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" replied Jean-Claude.\n\nThe officer glanced hesitatingly at the circle around.\n\n\"Speak out, sir,\" cried Hullin; \"let all hear you. Where honor\nand our country are the subject, no one in France is out of\nplace; our women understand the words as well as we. You have\nsome propositions to offer me. In the first place, on behalf of\nwhom?\"\n\n\"Of the general commanding-in-chief. Here is my commission.\"\n\n\"Very good. We are listening, sir.\"\n\nThen the officer, raising his voice, proceeded in a firm tone:\n\n\"Before I begin, commandant, permit me to say that you have\nperformed your duty magnificently; you have forced your foes to\nadmire you.\"\n\n\"As for duty,\" answered Hullin, \"we merely did what we could.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" added Catherine, in short, dry tones; \"and since our foes\nadmire us on that account, they will admire us much more in a\nweek or two, for the war is not yet ended. Marc is to come!\"\n\nThe officer turned his head toward her, and stood as if stupefied\nat the savage earnestness imprinted upon the old woman's\nfeatures.\n\n\"Those are noble sentiments,\" said he, after a few moments'\nsilence; \"but humanity has its rights, and to spill blood\nuselessly is only doing evil for the sake of evil.\"\n\n\"Then why do you come to our country?\" cried Catherine, and her\nvoice seemed like the eagle's shriek. \"Begone, and let us alone!\"\n\nThen she added:\n\n\"You make war like robbers: you steal, pillage, burn. You all\ndeserve to be hanged. We ought to throw you over the rock, for\nthe sake of the example.\"\n\nThe officer turned pale, for the old woman seemed ready to\nexecute her threat; but he soon recovered himself, and continued\ncalmly:\n\n\"I know that the Cossacks set fire to the farm-house opposite\nthis rock. They are pillagers such as follow all armies, and this\none act proves nothing against the discipline of our troops. The\nFrench soldiery often did the same in Germany, and particularly\nin the Tyrol; and, not satisfied with robbing and burning the\nvillages, they shot pitilessly all the mountaineers suspected of\nhaving taken up arms to defend their homes.\n{759}\nWe might make reprisals. It is our right to do so; but we are not\nbarbarians; we understand that patriotism is grand and noble,\neven when wrongly directed. Besides, we do not make war on the\nFrench people, but on the Emperor Napoleon. Therefore, our\ngeneral, on learning of the conduct of the Cossacks, publicly\npunished that act of vandalism, and moreover, decided that the\nproprietor should be indemnified.\"\n\n\"I ask no indemnity of you,\" interrupted Catherine rudely. \"I\nwish to live with my wrong, and to avenge it!\"\n\nThe officer saw the hopelessness of trying to bring the old woman\nto terms, and that it was, besides, dangerous to reply. He\nturned, therefore, to Hullin, and said:\n\n\"I am charged, commandant, to offer you the honors of war, if you\nconsent to surrender your position. You have no provisions, as we\nare well aware. A few days from now, you will be compelled to lay\ndown your arms. The esteem the general bears you alone impelled\nhim to offer you these honorable conditions. Longer resistance is\nuseless. We are masters of Donon; our _corps d'arm\u00e9e_ is\npassing into Lorraine. The campaign will not be decided here; so\nthat you have no interest in defending a useless position. We\nwish to spare you the horrors of famine upon this rock. Decide,\ncommandant.\"\n\nHullin turned to the partisans, and said simply,\n\n\"You have heard. I refuse the conditions; but I will submit, if\nall accept the enemy's propositions.\"\n\n\"We all refuse them,\" cried Jerome.\n\n\"Yes; all, all!\" repeated the others.\n\nCatherine Lefevre, till then so stern, happened to glance at\nLouise, and then her firmness gave way. She took her by the arm,\nand leading her to the officer, said:\n\n\"We have a child among us; is there no means of sending her to\none of her friends in Laverne?\"\n\nLouise had scarce heard the words when, throwing herself in\nHullin's arms, she cried affrightedly,\n\n\"No, no! I will stay with you, Father Jean-Claude! I will die\nwith you!\"\n\n\"Go, sir,\" said Hullin, with bloodless lips, \"tell your general\nwhat you have seen; tell him that Falkenstein we will hold to the\ndeath! Kasper, Frantz, lead back the officer.\"\n\nThe last seemed to hesitate; but as he was about to speak,\nCatherine, pale with wrath, cried,\n\n\"Go, go! You are not yet so sure of us as you think. It is the\nvillain Yegof who told you we had no provisions; we have enough\nfor two months, and in two months our army will have swept you\nfrom the earth. Traitors will not always flourish, and then woe\nto you!\"\n\nAs she grew more and more excited, the officer judged it prudent\nto withdraw. He returned to his guides, who again put on the\nbandage, and led him to the foot of Falkenstein.\n\nHullin's orders regarding the provisions were carried out the\nsame day; each one received a half-ration. A sentry was posted in\nfront of Hexe-Baizel's cavern, where the food was kept, and the\ndoor barricaded. Jean-Claude ordered the distributions to be made\nin presence of all, to avoid injustice; but all these precautions\ndid not save the unhappy patriots from the worst horrors of\nfamine.\n\n{760}\n\n Chapter XXV.\n\n\nFor three days food had been entirely wanting. Still Dives gave\nno sign. How often during those long days of agony did the\nmountaineers strain their eyes toward Phalsbourg! How often did\nthey listen to the low murmur of the breeze, thinking it bore\nupon it the sound of the smuggler's footsteps!\n\nIn the midst of the torments of hunger, the nineteenth day since\nthe arrival of the partisans on Falkenstein dragged away. They no\nlonger spoke to each other; but seated on the earth, their\nfleshless faces gazing at vacancy, they passed hours as in a\ndream. Sometimes they would turn sparkling eyes upon each other,\nas if ready to satisfy their hunger at the expense of a comrade's\nlife; then all would again sink into a gloomy calm.\n\nOnce Yegof's raven, winging its way from peak to peak, came near\nthis scene of misery; but old Materne brought his rifle to his\nshoulder, and the bird of ill omen flew back at its utmost speed,\nuttering mournful cries, and the old hunter's piece fell\nharmless.\n\nAnd now, as if the horrors of hunger were not enough to fill the\nmeasure of their misery, they only opened their lips to accuse or\nthreaten each other.\n\nLouise was delirious; her great blue eyes, instead of living\nobjects, saw spectres fleeting over them, sweeping the tree-tops,\nand lighting upon the old tower.\n\n\"Food--food at last!\" would she cry.\n\nAnd then the others, carried away by fury, shrieked that she was\nmocking them, and bade her beware.\n\nJerome alone remained calm and collected; but the great quantity\nof snow he had eaten in his pangs kept his body and bony face\ncovered with a cold sweat.\n\nDr. Lorquin knotted a handkerchief around his waist, and drew it\ntighter and tighter, pretending that he thus satisfied his\ncravings. He sat against the wall of the tower with closed eyes,\nwhich from hour to hour he opened, saying,\n\n\"We are at the first, second, third period. Another day, and all\nwill be over!\"\n\nThen he would deliver dissertations on the Druids, on Odin,\nBrahma, Pythagoras, quoting Latin and Greek, all announcing the\napproaching transformation of the people of Harberg into wolves,\nfoxes, and all sorts of animals.\n\n\"I,\" he cried, \"I will be a lion! I will eat fifteen pounds of\nbeef a day.\"\n\nBut soon recollecting himself, he continued,\n\n\"No, I would rather be a man. I will preach peace, brotherly\nlove, justice! Ah my friends! we suffer for our own faults. What\nhave we been doing on the other side of the Rhine for the last\nten years? By what right did we place masters over those nations?\nWhy did we not rather exchange thought, feeling, the products of\nour arts and industry with them? Why did we not meet them as\nbrothers, instead of trying to enslave them? We should have been\nwell received. How they, poor wretches, must have suffered during\nten years of violence and rapine! Now they are avenging\nthemselves. God is just. May the malediction of heaven fall on\nthose who divide nations to oppress them!\"\n\nAfter a few moments of excitement like this, he would sink\nexhausted against the wall, murmuring:\n\n\"Bread! only a morsel of bread!\"\n\n{761}\n\nMaterne's boys, seated among the bushes, their rifles at their\nshoulders, seemed awaiting the sight of game, which never\nappeared; but the thought of their eternal resting-place\nsustained their expiring strength.\n\nA few, in the agonies of fever, accused Jean-Claude of being the\nauthor of their misery in bringing them to Falkenstein.\n\nHullin, with more than human energy, yet came and went, watching\nall that passed in the valleys, but speaking no word.\n\nSometimes he would advance to the very edge of the rock, with\njaws pressed firmly together, and flashing eyes, to see Yegof\nseated before a great fire on the meadow of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes, in\nthe middle of a troop of Cossacks. Since the enemy's arrival in\nthe valley of Charmes, this had been the fool's constant post;\nand from it he seemed to gloat over the agony of his victims.\n\nThe tortures of hunger in the depths of a dungeon are no doubt\nterrible; but beneath the open sky, with floods of light pouring\ndown on every side, in view of help, in view of the thousand\nresources of nature, then no tongue can paint their horrors.\n\nAt the end of this nineteenth day, between four and five in the\nevening, the weather became cloudy; huge masses of gray vapor\nrose behind the snowy peak of Grossmann; the setting sun, glowing\nredly like a ball of iron just taken from the furnace, threw a\nfew last gleams through the thickening air. Deep silence reigned\non the rock. Louise no longer gave any sign of life; Kasper and\nFrantz still sat motionless as stones among the bushes. Catherine\nLefevre, huddled on the ground, clasping her knees within her\nwithered arms, her features hard and rigid, her hair hanging over\nher ashy cheeks, her eyes haggard, and lips closed tight as a\nvice, seemed some ancient sibyl. She no longer spoke. That\nevening, Hullin, Jerome, old Materne, and Doctor Lorquin gathered\naround the old woman, that all might die together. They were all\nsilent, and the last glimmer of twilight fell dimly upon the\ngroup. To the right, behind a projection of the rock, the fires\nof the Germans sparkled in the abyss. Suddenly the old woman,\nstarting as from a dream, murmured a few words, unintelligible at\nfirst.\n\n\"Dives is coming!\" she continued in a low tone; \"I see him; he\nsallies from the postern--to the right of the arsenal. Gaspard\nfollows him, and--\"\n\nShe counted slowly.\n\n\"Two hundred and fifty men, National Guards and soldiers. They\ncross the fosse; they mount behind the demi-lune. Gaspard is\ntalking to Marc. What is he saying?\"\n\nShe seemed to listen.\n\n\"'Hasten! Ay, hasten; never was more need of speed! They are on\nthe glacis!\"\n\nThere was a long silence; then the old woman, suddenly springing\nto her feet, rose to her full height, and with arms outstretched,\nand hair flying wildly about her head, shouted:\n\n\"Courage! Strike! kill! kill! kill!\"\n\nShe fell heavily to the earth.\n\nHer terrible cry had awakened all; it might have awakened the\ndead. New life seemed breathed into the besieged. Something\nstrange and unearthly seemed to fill the air. Was it hope? life?\nI know not; but the entire party came crawling up on all fours,\nlike wild beasts, holding their breath that they might listen.\nEven Louise moved slightly, and raised her head. Frantz and\nKasper dragged themselves on their knees, and strange to say,\nHullin, casting his eyes toward Phalsbourg, thought he saw the\nflashes of musketry, as if a sortie were being made.\n\n{762}\n\nCatherine resumed her first attitude; but her cheeks, lately\nrigid as a marble mask, now quivered, and her eye again grew\ndreamy. The others listened; their lives seemed hanging on her\nlips. Thus a quarter of an hour passed, when she again spoke\nslowly:\n\n\"They have passed the enemy's lines; they are hastening to\nLutzelbourg; I see them. Gaspard and Dives are in the van with\nDesmarets, Ulrich, Weber, and our friends of the city. They are\ncoming! they are coming!\"\n\nShe was again silent. They listened long, but the vision had\nvanished. Minutes followed minutes that seemed centuries, when at\nonce Hexe-Baizel's sharp voice arose:\n\n\"She is a fool! She saw nothing. I know Marc. He is mocking us.\nWhat is it to him if we perish! So long as he has his bottle of\nwine and his dinner, and his pipe after, what does he care? O the\nvillain!\"\n\nThen all was silence again, and the wretches whose hearts were\nfor a moment animated with the hope of speedy deliverance, again\nsank back in despair.\n\n\"It was a dream,\" thought they:\n\n\"Hexe-Baizel is right; we are doomed to die of hunger.\"\n\nNight had fallen. When the moon rose behind the tall firs,\nshedding her pale light on the mournful groups, Hullin alone\nwatched, although fever was burning his vitals. He listened to\nevery sound from the gorges. The voices of the German sentries\ncalled their _Wer da! Wer da!_ as the rounds passed the\nbivouacs; the horses neighed shrilly, and their grooms shouted.\nAt last, toward midnight, the brave old man fell asleep like the\nothers. When he awoke, the clock of the village of Charmes was\nstriking four. Hullin, at the sound of its far-off vibrations,\nstarted from his stupor, opened his eyes, and, while he gazed\nupward trying to collect his senses, a dim light like the flare\nof a torch passed before his eyes. Fear seized him, and he\nmuttered:\n\n\"Am I going mad? The night is dark, and yet I see torches!\"\n\nThe flame reappeared; he saw it more clearly; he arose and\npressed his hand for some seconds upon his brow. At last, risking\na glance, he saw distinctly a fire on Giromani, on the other side\nof Blanru, flinging its red glare in the sky, and throwing black\nshadows from the firs on the snow. Suddenly he remembered that it\nwas the signal agreed on between Pivrette and himself to announce\nan attack; he trembled from head to foot; a cold sweat poured\nfrom his forehead, and groping through the darkness like a blind\nman with arms outstretched, he stammered:\n\n\"Catherine! Louise! Jerome!\"\n\nBut no one answered; and after wandering thus, feeling his way,\nand often thinking he was moving on when he made not a step, he\nfell to the ground on his face crying,\n\n\"My children! Catherine! They are coming! We are saved!\"\n\nThere was a dull murmur; it seemed as if the dead were awakening.\nThere was a short peal of laughter. It was Hexe-Baizel, crazed\nthrough suffering; then Catherine cried:\n\n\"Hullin! Hullin! Who spoke?\"\n\nJean-Claude, overcoming his emotion, shouted in a firmer voice:\n\n\"Jerome, Catherine, Materne, all of you! Are you dead? Do you not\nsee yonder fire on the side of Blanru? It is Pivrette coining to\nour rescue!\"\n\n{763}\n\nAt the same instant a crash rolled like a tempest through the\ngorges of the Jaegerthal. The trump of judgment could not have\nproduced a greater effect upon the besieged. At once all were\nawake and listening.\n\n\"It is Pivrette! It is Marc!\" cried broken voices, sounding\nhollow as those of skeletons. \"They are coming to save us!\"\n\nThey tried to rise. Some fell back sobbing; they could no longer\nweep. A second crash brought all to their feet.\n\n\"It is the volley of a platoon!\" cried Hullin; \"our men are\nfiring by platoon too! We have soldiers in line! Long live\nFrance!\"\n\n\"Mother Catherine was right,\" said Jerome; \"the men of Phalsbourg\nare coming to help us; they are descending the hills of the\nSarre, and Pivrette is attacking by way of Blanru.\"\n\nThe fusillade was, in fact, commencing on both sides at once,\ntoward the meadows of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes and the heights of Kilberi.\n\nThen the two leaders embraced, and as they groped about in the\ndarkness, seeking the edge of the rock, the voice of Materne\nshouted:\n\n\"Take care! the precipice is there.\"\n\nThey stopped short, and looked down, but saw nothing; a current\nof cold air, from the depths beneath, alone told them of their\ndanger. All the surrounding peaks and valleys were buried in\ndarkness. On the sides of the opposite slope, the flashes of the\nmusketry glanced like lightning, now lighting up an aged oak, or\nthe black outline of a rock, or mayhap a patch of heather,\ncovered with forms rushing hither and thither. From the depths,\ntwo thousand feet below, rose a confused murmur, the clattering\nof horse-hoofs, cries, commands. Now the call of a\nmountaineer--that prolonged shout which flies from peak to\npeak--rose like a sigh to Falkenstein.\n\n\"That is Marc!\" said Hullin.\n\n\"Yes, it is Marc cheering us,\" replied Jerome.\n\nThe others, near by, with necks outstretched and hands on the\nedge of the cliff, gazed wistfully. The fire continued with a\nrapidity which told of the desperation of the fight; but nothing\ncould be seen. How those poor wretches longed for a part in the\nstruggle! With what ardor would they have hurled themselves into\nthe combat! The fear of yet being abandoned--of seeing the\nretreat of their rescuers--made them speechless.\n\nSoon day began to break; the pale dawn shone behind the dark\npeaks; a few rays of light fell into the shadowy valleys, and,\nhalf an hour after, silvered the mists of their depths. Hullin,\nglancing through a break in these clouds, at last understood the\nstate of affairs. The Germans had lost the heights of Valtin and\nthe field of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes. They were massed in the valley of\nCharmes, at the foot of Falkenstein, one third of the way up the\nslope, so that the fire of their adversaries might not plunge\nfrom above upon them. Opposite the rock, Pivrette, master of\nBois-de-Ch\u00eanes, was ordering an abatis to be raised on the\ndescent to the valley. He rushed hither and thither, his short\npipe between his teeth, his slouched hat pulled down on his ears,\nand his rifle slung behind him. The blue axes of the wood-cutters\nglanced in the rising sun. To the left of the village, on the\nside of Valtin, in the midst of the heather, Marc-Dives, on a\nlittle black horse with a trailing tail, his long sword hanging\nfrom his wrist, was pointing out the ruins and the old path over\nwhich the wood-cutters were wont to drag their trees.\n{764}\nAn infantry officer and some National Guards in blue uniforms\nlistened. Gaspard Lefevre alone, in advance of the group, leaned\non his musket and seemed meditating. His mien told of desperate\nresolve. At the top of the hill, two or three hundred men, in\nline, resting on their arms, gazed on the scene.\n\nThe sight of the fewness of their defenders chilled the hearts of\nthe besieged; the more so as the Germans, outnumbering them seven\nor eight to one, began to form two columns of attack to regain\nthe positions they had lost. Their general sent horsemen in every\ndirection with orders, and the lines of bayonets began to move.\n\n\"The game is up!\" muttered Hullin to Jerome. \"What can five or\nsix hundred men do against four thousand in line of battle? The\nPhalsbourg people will return home, saying, 'We have done our\nduty!' and Pivrette will be crushed.\"\n\nAll thought the same; but what filled the measure of their\ndespair was to see a long line of Cossacks debouch at full speed\ninto the valley of Charmes, the fool Yegof at their head\ngalloping like the wind, his beard, the tail of his horse, his\ndog-skin and his red hair streaming behind. He gazed at the rock,\nand brandished his lance above his head. At the bottom of the\nvalley he spurred toward the enemy's staff. Reaching the general,\nhe made some gestures, pointing to the other side of the plateau\nof Bois-de Ch\u00eanes.\n\n\"The villain!\" exclaimed Hullin. \"See! he says Pivrette has no\nabatis on that side, and that the mountain must be turned.\"\n\nA column indeed, began its march at once in the direction shown,\nwhile another pressed on toward the abatis to mask the movement\nof the first.\n\n\"Materne,\" cried Jean-Claude, is there no means of sending a\nbullet after yonder fool?\"\n\nThe old hunter shook his head.\n\n\"None,\" he answered; \"it is impossible; he is not in range.\"\n\nEven as he spoke, Catherine uttered a wild cry, a scream like\nthat of a falcon.\n\n\"Let us crush them!\" she shrieked--\"crush them as we did at\nBlutfeld!\"\n\nAnd the old woman, but a moment ago so feeble, seized a fragment\nof rock which she lifted with both hands; then, with her long\ngray hair floating in the wind, her hooked nose bent over her\ncompressed and colorless lips, and her wrinkled cheeks rigid as\niron, she rushed with firm steps to the edge of the cliff, and\nthe rock cleft the air.\n\nA horrible clamor arose from beneath, through which could be\nheard the crash of broken branches; then the enormous mass\nrebounded a hundred feet outward--dashed down the steep slope,\nagain flew out into the open air, down, down, falling full on\nYegof, and crushing him at the general's feet! All was the work\nof a moment.\n\nCatherine, erect on the edge of the cliff, laughed a long,\nrattling laugh.\n\nThen the others, those phantoms, spectres, as if a new life had\nbeen given them, dashed over the ruins of the ancient burg,\nshrieking:\n\n\"Death! Death to the Germans! Crush them as we did at Blutfeld.\"\n\nNever did eye behold a scene more terrible. Wretches at the gates\nof the tomb--lean, fleshless as skeletons found again their\nstrength and their courage. They blenched not; each man seized\nhis fragment of rock, hurled it over the precipice, and rushed\nback to find another, without even waiting to see the effect of\nthe one he had thrown.\n\n{765}\n\nNo pen can paint the terror of the Kaiserliks as this storm of\nrocks dashed down upon their heads. All turned as they heard the\ncrashing bushes and trees, and at first stood gazing as if\npetrified. Raising their eyes, they saw others, and still others,\nrushing down, and, above, figures like spectres appear and\ndisappear, hurling missiles of death into the air; they saw\naround them their crushed and mangled comrades--lines of fifteen\nor twenty men stricken down at once. A wild cry echoed from the\ndepths of the valley to the peak of Falkenstein, and despite the\ncommands of their leaders, despite the hail of shot that began to\npour from right and left upon them, the Germans, careless whither\nthey went, fled anywhere--anywhere to avoid the horrid death that\nsmote them there.\n\nIn the thick of the rout, however, the Austrian general succeeded\nin rallying a battalion and brought it in good order to the\nvillage. Calm and collected amid disaster and death, he seemed\nworthy his high rank. He turned gloomily, from time to time, to\ngaze on the falling rocks, which still ploughed bloody furrows\nthrough his column.\n\nJean-Claude observed him, and in spite of the intoxication of\nvictory, and the joy of having escaped the horrors of a death by\nfamine, the old soldier could not restrain his admiration.\n\n\"Look,\" he cried to Jerome, \"he does as we did on the retreat\nfrom Donon and Grossmann. He is the last to retire, and only\nyields his ground foot by foot. Truly there are brave men of all\ncountries!\"\n\nMarc-Dives and Pivrette, witnessing this turn of fortune,\ndescended among the fir-trees to cut off the enemy's retreat; but\nthe effort was in vain. The battalion, reduced one half, formed\nsquare behind the village of Charmes, and then retreated slowly\nup the valley of the Sarre, halting at times, like a wounded and\nhunted wild-boar turning upon his tormentors, whenever the men of\nPivrette or from Phalsbourg pressed them too closely.\n\nThus ended the great battle of Falkenstein, known among the\nmountains as the Battle of the Rocks.\n\n\n Chapter XXVI.\n\n\nScarcely had the fight ceased, when, toward 8 o'clock,\nMarc-Dives, Gaspard, and some thirty mountaineers, bearing\nbaskets of food, reached the peak of Falkenstein. What a\nspectacle awaited them there! The besieged, stretched on the\nearth, seemed dead. In vain they shook the bodies and shouted in\ntheir ears; no answer came. Gaspard Lefevre, seeing his mother\nand Louise lying motionless with teeth fast locked together, told\nMarc, in his agony, that unless they recovered he would blow out\nhis brains with his own musket. Marc replied that every one was\nfree to do as he pleased; but that for his part, he would do no\nsuch thing on Hexe-Baizel's account. At length, old Colon placed\nhis basket on a stone. Kasper Materne suddenly sighed, opened his\neyes, and, seeing the food, began clacking his teeth like a\nfamished fox.\n\nThey knew what that meant, and Marc-Dives passed his flask under\nthe nose of each one, which was sufficient to resuscitate them.\nThey wanted to devour all the provisions at once; but Doctor\nLorquin had sense enough remaining to warn Marc not to listen to\nthem, for the least excess would be sure death. Each one\nreceived, therefore, only a small piece of bread, an egg, and a\nglass of wine, which restored their powers singularly. Then they\nplaced Catherine, Louise, and the entire party on sleds, and\ndescended to the village.\n\n{766}\n\nWho could describe the enthusiasm and emotion of their friends,\nwhen they saw them arrive, more meagre than Lazarus risen from\nhis grave! They were gazed at, embraced, hugged, and every\nnew-comer from Abreschwiller, Dagsberg, Saint-Quirin, or anywhere\nelse, had to repeat the ceremony.\n\nMarc-Dives was obliged twenty times to relate the story of his\njourney to Phalsbourg. Luck had been against the brave smuggler.\nAfter having almost by miracle escaped the bullets of the\nKaiserliks, he fell, in the valley of Spartzprod, into the middle\nof a troop of Cossacks, who robbed him of every thing. Then for\ntwo weeks he had to roam about the Russian posts, which\nsurrounded the city, drawing the fire of their sentries and\nrunning the risk dozens of times of being arrested as a spy,\nbefore he was able to enter the works. Then the commandant\nMeunier, fearing from the weakness of the garrison, at first\nrefused all help, and it was only at the pressing entreaty of the\ninhabitants of the city that he at length consented to detach two\ncompanies for the purpose.\n\nThe mountaineers, listening to this recital, could not cease\nadmiring the courage of Marc, and his perseverance amid so many\nperils.\n\n\"What would you have me do?\" asked the tall smuggler of those\nloudest in their praises. \"I only did my duty; would you have me\nleave my comrades to perish? I knew that the task was not an easy\none; those rogues of Cossacks are sharper than custom-house\nofficers; they scent you a league off like crows; but no matter,\nwe got the better of them this time.\"\n\nAt the end of five or six days, all the lately besieged were on\ntheir feet again. Captain Vidal, from Phalsbourg, had left\ntwenty-five men at Falkenstein, to guard the ammunition. Gaspard\nLefevre was of the number, and the brave fellow came every\nmorning down to the village. The allies had all passed into\nLorraine; none were seen in Alsace, except around the fortresses.\nSoon the news came of the victories of Champ-Aubert and\nMontmirail; but the evil days had come upon us, and, in spite of\nthe heroism of our army and the Emperor's genius, the Germans and\nRussians entered Paris.\n\nThis was a terrible blow for Jean-Claude, Catherine, Materne,\nJerome, and all the mountaineers; but others have related the\nhistory of these events; they form no part of our story.\n\nPeace concluded, the old farm-house of Bois-de-Ch\u00eanes was rebuilt\nin the spring; wood-cutters, sabot-makers, masons, and all the\nworkmen in the country round lent a hand in the work.\n\nAbout the same time, the army having been disbanded, Gaspard\ntrimmed his mustache, and his marriage with Louise took place.\n\nThe wedding-day was all the heroes of Falkenstein and Donon\ngathered, and the farm-house received them with open doors, and\nwindows too. Each one brought a present to the couple--Jerome, a\npair of little shoes for Louise; Dives, packages of smuggled\ntobacco for Gaspard; each one according to his means.\n\nTables were set even in the barns and sheds. How much wine,\nbread, and meat, how many pies and puddings were disposed of, I\nknow not; but what I do know is that Jean-Claude, filled with\ngloom since the entry of the allies into Paris, cheered upon that\nday and sang the old song of his youth as gayly as when he set\nout, musket on shoulder for Valmy, Jemmapes and Fleurus.\n{767}\nThe echoes of Falkenstein took up the old patriotic air--the\ngrandest, noblest ever heard by man. Catherine Lefevre beat time\non the table with the handle of her knife; and if it be true, as\nmany maintain, that the dead come to listen when we speak of\nthem, our slain must indeed have rejoiced, and the King of\nDiamonds foamed on his red beard.\n\nToward midnight, Hullin arose, and addressing the bridegroom and\nbride said:\n\n\"You will have brave children; I will dance them on my knees, and\nteach them this old song; and then I will follow those who have\ngone before me.\"\n\nHe embraced Louise, and linking arms with Marc-Dives and Jerome,\nwent to his own little home, followed by all the wedding guests\nsinging their grand old song. Never was a finer night known;\nmillions of stars sparkled in the dark blue sky, and a low murmur\narose from the bushes at the foot of the slope where so many\nbrave hearts lay cold. All felt at once rejoiced and sad. At\nJean-Claude's door they shook his hand and gave him good night;\nthen, scattering in little parties to right and left, sought\ntheir villages.\n\n\"Good-night Materne, Jerome, Pivrette, Dives,\" cried the brave\nsabot-maker cheerily.\n\nHis old friends turned and waved their hats, and said among\nthemselves:\n\n\"There are indeed days when it is a joy to be in this fair world.\nAh! if there were no pestilence, nor war, nor famine; if men\nunderstood, loved, and helped one another; if wrongs and distrust\nwere unknown--what a paradise would be ours!\"\n\n ----------\n\n Porter's Human Intellect. [Footnote 281]\n\n [Footnote 281: _The Human Intellect; with an Introduction\n upon Psychology and the Soul_. By Noah Porter, D.D.,\n Clark Professor of Moral Philosophy and Metaphysics in Yale\n College. New York: Scribner & Co. 1868. 8vo, pp. 673.]\n\nIn returning to consider this elaborate volume more in detail, we\nwould remark that its author has designed it as a text-book for\ncollege students in the class of philosophy, and has proceeded,\nin writing, on the presumption that they for whom he writes have\nnot the slightest knowledge of the subject. Hence his pages are\nfilled with matters which those who have made some proficiency in\nthe science of the human understanding, and are not wholly\nignorant of philosophy, properly so called, are already masters\nof, and which they cannot even read without great weariness of\nthe body, and do not deem it worth their while to read at all.\nThey feel that to be able to understand the author, it is enough\nto consult his principles and method, and his definitions of the\nseveral topics he takes up and discusses. They have neither the\npatience to read carefully through a huge volume which is,\nnine-tenths of it, filled with what is for them mere baby-talk.\nBut the author does not, in composing his work, begin by stating\nand defining his theses, and then proceeding to elucidate and\nprove them; but attempts to begin where he supposes the infant\nbegins, and proceeds as a learner, not as a master.\n{768}\nConsequently, we are compelled to read his book from the\nbeginning to the end, or not be sure of his doctrine on any one\npoint.\n\nIt is true, the author sometimes attempts definitions, but they\nare seldom scientific, rarely embrace his whole thesis, and\nnothing else, and are pretty sure to mislead the unfortunate\nreviewer who relies on them. He seldom abides by his own\ndefinitions. In one place he defines consciousness a power, and\nin another he makes it an act. Sense-perception is defined to be\nthe power by which the intellect gains the knowledge of material\nobjects; then we are told that the object perceived is not the\nmaterial existence, but \"a joint product of the material agent\nand the sentient organism,\" a psychical transcript of the\nmaterial object; while in another part of his work we find him\ndenying that what the mind perceives is such transcript, and\nrefuting, by plain and solid reasons, those who maintain that it\nis. A really scientific definition is a definition _per genus\net per differentiam_; Dr. Porter sometimes gives the\n_genus_ and forgets the _differentia_, and sometimes\ngives the _differentia_ without giving the _genus_. He\nalso adopts a terminology in many respects not familiar to us,\nthough it may be to others, without the necessary explanation of\nthe terms he uses: and even when the terms he uses are such as we\nare familiar with, they are used in a sense to which we are not\naccustomed. We cannot tolerate _subject-object_, for subject\nand object are distinct, and stand the one over against the\nother. The subject in thought is never the object, and the object\nis never the subject. Grammar teaches so much.\n_Object-object_ says no more than simply object. Every\nobject is object, and no object is more or less than object. The\nobject is always real; for it is causative, since in the act of\nthought it resists the subject, and becomes a counter-pressure.\nWe dislike _percepts_ and _concepts_; for they are\nintended to imply that they exist, as it were, independent of the\nsubject and the object, and that the product of subject and\nobject may itself be object. We protest earnestly, in the name\nboth of philology and philosophy, against calling existences,\nwhich are nothing except by the creative act of God,\n_beings_, and still more earnestly against so calling the\nproducts of second or third causes. This might pass with the\nGentiles, who substituted generation for creation, but is\ninexcusable in a Christian philosopher. We know the schoolmen did\nso, but they are not to be commended for it. They speak of _ens\nsimpliciter, ens secundum quid, ens reale_, and _ens\npossibile_, and even of _ens rationis_, as if being, the\ncreations of being, mental abstractions, and the creations of\nfancy and imagination could be all of the same genus or placed in\nthe same category! There is a philosophy in language which can\nnever be disregarded without more or less injury to the\nphilosophy of things.\n\nThe professor's method and technology render his work exceedingly\ndifficult to be understood without as much study as would be\nnecessary to construct the philosophy of the human mind without\nit; and therefore if we should happen at times to miss his\nmeaning, he must blame himself. He is far more intent on\nexplaining the processes of the mind in knowing than on setting\nforth what it knows. These processes have no interest for us; for\nthey really throw no light on the power or fact of knowledge. We\nwant to know what the author means by philosophy, and what is its\nvalue, and we therefore want him to speak as the professor, not\nas the pupil.\n{769}\nWe have no disposition to waste our time and weary the flesh,\neven, in reading the mass of stuff which he writes and which\ntells us nothing we want to know. But enough of this.\n\nThe professor divides, not very scientifically, his work into\nfour parts.\n\n Part I. treats of Presentation and Presentative Knowledge;\n Part II., of Representation and Representative Knowledge;\n Part III., of Thinking and Thought-Knowledge; and\n Part IV., of Intuition and Intuitive Knowledge.\n\nHe says, p. 77, \"The leading faculties of the intellect are\nthree: the presentative or observing faculty, the representative\nor creative faculty, and the thinking or generalizing faculty.\nMore briefly, the faculty of experience, the faculty of\nrepresentation, and the faculty of intelligence.\" But experience\nis not a faculty; it is the result of the exercise of all our\nfaculties, and a source of intelligence. Intelligence, as a\nfaculty, is the intellect itself; as a fact, it is\nindistinguishable from experience, which is improperly restricted\nby some psychologists of the inductive sort to the knowledge of\nthe external world through the senses, but extends to all\nacquired knowledge, whatever the faculty exercised in acquiring\nit or the object perceived. The real distinction is not between\nexperience or empirical knowledge and intelligence, but between\nempirical knowledge or experience and the ideal principles which\nare given intuitively by the Creator, and neither acquired nor\ndeveloped by the soul's own action. Distinctions should be real,\nnot arbitrary or abstract.\n\nWe are able to know objects of various kinds and sorts, but the\nknowing is always the same fact, and by the same cognitive\nfaculty, whatever the object known, the order to which it\nbelongs, or the means and conditions of its cognition. The\nlearned professor's division, making four sorts of knowledge,\nsince he makes intuition empirical, or an act of the soul,\nappears to us, therefore, without any real foundation. All\nknowledge or actual knowing is presentative, and is in all cases\nby direct contemplation of the object in the light of ideal\nintuition. Demonstration only strips the object of its envelopes,\nremoves the _prohibentia_, and presents it to direct\ncontemplation. In the longest chain of reasoning, each link is,\nin the empirical sense, intuitively apprehended. The apprehension\nis always immediate, and the several mental processes serve only\nto bring the subject and object together, face to face. These\nprocesses, however named or whatever their character, never\nextend the matter of knowledge beyond the objects presented.\n\nThe presentative faculty the author subdivides into consciousness\nand sense-perception. But consciousness is not a presentative\nfaculty, nor a faculty, nor a subdivision of a faculty at all. It\nis simply the recognition of the soul, as reflected from the\nobject, of herself as subject. At most, it simply presents the\nsubject of the thought. Sense-perception presents only material\nor sensible objects. The professor's doctrine is then that of\nLocke, who derives all our ideas from sensation and reflection,\nand confines all our knowledge to sensibles with the soul and her\noperations. Reflection only operates on the sense-perceptions\nwithout extending the matter of knowledge beyond them. This is\npure sensism, which we are somewhat surprised to find held by an\neminent professor in Yale College.\n{770}\nDoes Dr. Porter know his doctrine is sensism, and therefore\nmaterialistic? He says, though not truly, we apprehend the soul\nin consciousness as a spiritual being, but is the soul the only\nnon-sensible he means to assert?\n\nBut, as we showed in our former article, the soul recognizes\nherself only as subject, and therefore only as the correlative of\nobject. She knows her own operations only in the same\ncorrelation. Take away the object and you lose the subject or\nfact of consciousness. This, we fear, the professor does. He\ndefines, p. 131, sense-perception to be \"an act of objective\nknowledge, in which the soul knows and only knows;\" but adds, \"if\nthe soul knows, it knows some _being_ as its object. But\nwhat being does it affirm? We answer, The being which, is the\njoint product of the material agent and the sentient organism.\n... In perception proper we do not know the excitant apart, nor\ndo we know the organism apart, only the result of their joint\naction. This we know as an object, with which the mind is\nconfronted both as a sentient and as a percipient.\" But as there\ncan be no thought without the conjunction of the intellective\nsubject and the intelligible object, if the mind does not\napprehend 'the material object itself, there can be no such joint\nproduct as pretended, and, consequently, no object at all. The\nobject then vanishes, and leaves only the subject, which is, we\nneed not say, pure idealism. As the subject is the correlative of\nobject, and recognizes itself only in thinking the object, if the\nobject vanishes, the subject, too, must vanish, and leave behind\nit only the _sensation transform\u00e9e_ of Condillac. But as\nsensation, however transformed, is still sensation, and as\nsensations are incapable of standing alone, or of subsisting\nwithout the subject, the sensations themselves must go, and\nnihilism alone remains--the result to which all psychologisms and\nontologisms are necessarily tending, and in which Sir William\nHamilton says all philosophy necessarily ends, if we may trust a\npassage which we saw quoted from him not long since in _The New\nEnglander_, by a Princeton professor, in a striking article on\n_The Present State of Philosophy_, in which the writer has\nwell stated the problem presented, but which he neither solves\nnor attempts to solve; a problem, the solution of which is in the\nideal formula, or the real synthesis of principles of things and\nof science, of which he seems never to have heard.\n\nThe professor draws a proper distinction between sensation as\nfeeling and sensation as perception, but we cannot agree with him\nthat sensation as feeling is an affection of the soul. Those\npsycho-physiologers make a great mistake who call the body\n\"_The House I live in_.\" The union of soul and body is too\nintimate for that. I am not soul, as distinguished from the body,\nnor am I body, as distinguished from the soul; but I am the union\nof the two. A General Council defines the soul to be \"forma\ncorporis,\" the informing and animating principle of the body. Yet\nthere is a distinction between them. We can predicate of the one\nthings which we cannot of the other. There is, indeed, no\nsensation without thought, or an act of the soul; but the\nsensation itself, as distinguished from the perception, is felt,\nnot merely localized, in the body, not in the soul. When I feel\nthe twinges of the gout, I feel them, not in my soul, but in my\ntoe. We must distinguish two classes of affections, frequently\nconfounded; the one sensible, of the body, the other spiritual,\nof the soul.\n{771}\nThe sensible affections or emotions, such as joy and grief,\nsorrow and delight, pain and pleasure, are of the body animated\nand informed by the soul. They indeed imitate in the sensible\norder the affections of the soul, but have in themselves no moral\ncharacter. Hence, the masters of spiritual life make no account\nof what is called sensible devotion, and see in it nothing\nmeritorious, and no reason why the soul, in its itinerary to God,\nshould seek it. But very different is the other class, often\ncalled by the same name, and which may or may not be accompanied\nby sensible emotion. This difference is at once understood by all\nwho have learned to distinguish between the love of the senses\nand the love of the soul, the love Plato meant when he\nrepresented the soul, in his fine poetical way, as having two\nwings, intelligence and love, on which it soars to the empyreum.\nThis love, in one degree, is chivalric love, which the knight\ncherishes for his mistress whom he worships as a distant star; in\na higher degree, it is heroic love, a love that braves all\ndangers for the beloved, whether friend or country; in a still\nhigher degree, and informed by grace, it is charity or saintly\nlove, with which the saint burns and is consumed as he\ncontemplates the Beauty of Holiness, or \"the First Good and the\nFirst Fair.\" This is not sensible love, and its glory is in\nstruggling against the seductions of the senses, or the flesh,\nand by the grace of God winning the victory over them, and coming\noff conqueror through Him who hath loved us and given his life\nfor us.\n\nThe professor has entered largely into the physiology of the\nsenses, and the joint action of the soul in the fact of\nknowledge, and the process of the mind in forming what he calls\n_percepts_; but as all he says under these heads, whether\ntrue or not true, throws no light on the intellectual act itself,\nwe pass it over, and proceed to his Part II., Representation and\nRepresentative Knowledge.\n\n\"Representation or the representative power,\" the author says, p.\n248, \"may be defined in general [that is, _the genus_] the\npower to recall, represent, and reknow objects which have been\npreviously known or experienced in the soul. More briefly, it is\nthe power to represent objects previously presented to the mind.\"\nClearly, then, representation adds nothing to the matter\npreviously presented by the presentative power. But the author\ncontinues: \"It is obvious that, in every act of this power, the\nobjects of the mind's cognition are furnished by the mind itself,\nbeing produced or created a second time by the mind's own energy,\nand presented to the mind's own inspection. It follows that\nrepresentation, in its very essence, is a creative or a\nself-active power.\"\n\nWe cannot say that this is obvious to us. The definition of\nrepresentation given by the author makes it what, in the language\nof mortals, is called memory; and we have never learned that\nmemory is a creative power, or that in memory the mind creates\nthe objects it remembers. To recall or to reknow is not to\ncreate. Even that the soul is self-active--that is, capable of\nacting from itself alone--is by no means obvious; nay, is\nimpossible, unless we take the soul to be the first cause,\ninstead of merely a second cause; and, even if it were\nself-active, it would not follow that it creates. God is\nself-active because self-existent, or being in its plenitude; but\nhe is not necessarily a creator. He has infinite scope for his\ninfinite activity in himself, and he is free to create or not to\ncreate as he pleases.\n{772}\nThat the mind does not in memory create the objects remembered,\nis evident from the fact that the facts remembered are, as the\nauthor himself admits, facts or objects previously known or\nexperienced. The fact of memory, or the fact remembered, is the\nsame fact that was known in presentation, accompanied by the\nrecognition of it as an object previously present and known, and\nnot now known for the first time. There is no creation a second\ntime any more than there was the first time, or when the object\nwas presented.\n\nThe professor says, p. 251, \"The objects of the representative\npower are .... mental objects. They are not _real things_,\nnor real percepts, but the mind's own creations after real\nthings. They are spiritual or psychical, not material, entities;\nbut in many cases, they concern material beings, being psychical\ntranscripts of them, believed to be real or possible.\" Does he\nmean this as a true description of the facts of memory? Probably\nnot. Then his definition needs amending, for it does not include\nall that he means by representation. His definition includes only\nmemory; but his description includes, beside memory, reflection,\nfancy, and imagination, things which have nothing in common\nexcept the fact that the mind operates in them all on matters\nwhich have been previously presented. Reflection and memory are\nin no sense creative faculties; fancy and imagination are\nsometimes so called, but even they do not create their own\nobjects. Reflection is the mind operating on the ideal principles\nre-presented in language, and in their light, on the facts of\nexperience in their synthetic relations with them. Memory is\nsimply, as a faculty, the power to retain and to re-present, more\nor less completely and distinctly, the facts of experience. Its\nobjects are those facts themselves, not a mental representation\nor transcript of them. The author confounds re-presenting with\nrepresentation. In the one, the object previously presented is\nre-presented, or presented anew; in the other, the object itself\nis not presented for more elaborate consideration, but a certain\nmental transcript, image, or resemblance of it, which is the\nproduct of the mind fancying or imagining, yet is never its\nobject in correlation with which it acts. This distinction alone\nupsets the author's whole theory of science, or\n_Wissenschaftslehre_, and renders worse than useless more\nthan nine-tenths of his volume. His whole theory is vitiated by\nconfounding representation, in the sense of showing or exhibiting\nby resemblance or similitude, with the etymological sense, that\nof re-presenting, and in taking the representation as the object\nof the soul in the intellectual act, which it never is. Neither\nreflection nor memory represents, in his sense of the word, the\nobjects previously presented; they only re-present them.\n\nIn point of fact, we never know anything by mental\nrepresentation; for we either know not at all, or we know the\nthing itself. Representation only replaces the phantasms and\nintelligible species of the schoolmen, for ever made away with,\nwe had supposed, by the Scottish school of Reid and Hamilton, and\nthe professor himself has given excellent reasons for not\naccepting them. Plato, indeed, asserts that we know by\nsimilitude, but in a very different sense. The idea is impressed\non matter as the seal on wax, and the impression is a perfect\nfac-simile of the idea; and by knowing the impression, we know\nthe idea impressed. But he never made either the idea or the\nimpress of it on matter the product of the mind itself.\n{773}\nHe makes either always objective, independent of the mind, and\napprehensible by it. In other words, he never held that the mind\ncreates the similitude by which it knows, but, at most, only that\nby observation the mind finds it. The peripatetics never, again,\nmade their phantasms and intelligible _species_ mental\ncreations, or represented them as furnished by the mind from its\nown stock; but always held them to be independent of the mind,\nand furnished to it as the means of apprehending the object. If\nthey had referred their production to the mind itself, they would\nhave called the species _intellective_, not\n_intelligible_ species. The soul has, indeed, the faculty of\nrepresentation; but in representing its correlative object, it is\nnot the representation, but the thing, whatever it may be, that\nit attempts to represent. The _product_ of the mind may be a\nrepresentation, but the _object_ of the mind is not. In all\nthe imitative arts, as poetry, painting, sculpture, the artist\nseeks to represent, but operates always in view of that reality\nof which he produces the representation or resemblance.\n\nThe author himself distinguishes memory from representation,\nthough very indistinctly. \"Representation,\" p. 303> \"recalls,\nmemory recognizes.\" Here he uses representation in the sense of\nre-presenting; for what is recalled is not the mental\nrepresentation or semblance, but the object itself; so, really,\nthere is no representation in the case, and the professor should\nnot have treated memory under the head of representation. \"I see\na face, and I shut my eyes and picture it to myself.\" This is not\nan act of representation, but of memory. There is a\nre-presenting, but no representation, in memory; for, so far as\nthe fact is not reproduced in memory, there is no memory, but\nsimply fancy or imagination. The objects of reflection are simply\nthe objects originally presented with only this difference, that,\nin presentation, the fact of consciousness is myself as subject\nknowing, whereas in reflection it is myself as subject\nreflecting, and, in memory, myself as subject remembering.\n\nFancy and imagination are, in a loose way, called creative\nfaculties; but properly creative they are not. Creation is\nproduction of substantial existences or things from nothing that\nis, without any materials, by the sole energy of the creator.\nFancy and imagination can operate only on and with materials\nwhich have been or are presented to the mind. Fancy is mimetic\nand simply imitates imagination, as throughout the universe the\nlower imitates the higher, as the universe copies the Creator, or\nseeks to actualize the type in the Divine mind; and hence St.\nThomas says, _Deus similitudo est omnium rerum_. God creates\nall things after the type or ideal in his own mind, and _idea\nin mente divina nihil est aliud quam essentia Dei_. Hence, man\nis said to be made after the image and likeness of God, _ad\nimaginem et similitudinem_, though he is not the image of God;\nfor that is the Eternal Word, who, St. Paul tells us, is \"the\nbrightness of his glory and the express image of his substance,\"\nor being. (Heb. i. 3.) Fancy is mimetic, and plays with\nsensations and sensibles; but though it combines them in its own\nway, as a winged horse, the objects combined are always objects\nof experience. Imagination is of a higher order than fancy, and\noperates on and with objects of experience, sensibles,\nintelligibles, and the ideal principles intuitively given. It\nsweeps through the whole range of creation, descends to hell, and\nrises to heaven; but its objects are always those which have been\npresented to the mind, which it can only arrange and combine in\nnew forms of its own.\n{774}\nBut the representations it produces are its products, not its\nobject. In producing them, the mind has a real object as its\ncorrelate, as in presentation. Let the professor, then, abandon\nthe absurdity which runs through his book that a mental creation\nor representation is the object of the soul in producing it. The\nobject of the soul is the object whose activity joined to its own\nproduces it.\n\nTake the artist. The object in his richest and sublimest\nproductions is the beautiful which he sees, which is his soul's\nvision and his soul's love, and which he seeks to express on\ncanvas, in a statue, a temple, an oration, a poem, or a melody.\nTell us not, as so many aesthetic writers do, that the artist\nprojects from his own soul, or creates the beauty which he\nstruggles to express in his work, and which he can never express\nto his satisfaction. The ideal infinitely transcends the\nexpression. The soul contemplates the beautiful, but does not\ncreate it. The beautiful, as Plato somewhere says, \"is the\nsplendor of the Good.\" It is the splendor of the True and the\nGood, that is, of God; though Gioberti, in his _Del Bello_,\nseems to divorce it from the ideal, and, while asserting the\nreality of the object, would appear to resolve the beautiful into\nthe subjective impression on the sensibility, produced by the\napprehension of the object, which supposes that beauty exists\nonly for sensible existences. It is as real as God himself, and\nas objective as the ideal formula. It is the divine splendor,\ninseparable from the Divine Being. Everything God has made\nparticipates, in a higher or lower degree, of beauty, because it\nparticipates of being; but beauty itself in its infinity is only\nin God himself, which exceeds all the power of men and angels to\nrepresent. The artist, by the noetic power of the soul, which, if\na true artist, he possesses in a higher degree than ordinary men,\nbeholds, contemplates, and loves it. It is; as we have just said,\nthe vision of his soul and the object of his love. He detects it\nin creatures, in the region of fancy, in the mind, and in the\nsoul itself, and adores it in the ideal. The power of detecting\nit in sensibles is fancy; in the ideal, is imagination. In\nseeking to represent it or express it in his productions, it is\nthe real, the objective, he seeks to express or embody. He may\nform in his mind a representation of it, but that representation\nis not the object of the mind in either fancy or imagination, nor\nis it a pure mental representation, not only because it is formed\nafter the real, but because it is formed only in conjunction with\nthe activity of the real. [Footnote 282]\n\n [Footnote 282: The artist ought always to be highly moral and\n devout, but whether so or not depends on the motive with\n which he acts, or purpose for which he seeks to embody the\n beauty he sees. The relation of aesthetics to ethics, of art\n to religion is easily understood. Art is not, as some Germans\n would persuade us, religion, nor is the culture of art true\n religious worship. Art may be licentious, and is, when it\n embodies only the sensual passions and affections of our\n nature, and the more so in proportion to the exquisite touch\n and skill in the execution. In no case can the brilliancy and\n perfection of the execution atone for the moral deformity of\n the object represented. Art which appeals simply to the\n senses, and inspires only sensible devotion, is not\n necessarily immoral, but is not positively moral or\n religious. But art which seeks to embody or express the\n ideal, the splendor of the real, the true, the good, whether\n as presented in the ideal intuition, or as participated by\n the creatures of God, can hardly fail to be moral and\n religious in its effect as well as in its ideal. God is\n worshipped in spirit and in truth, even worshipped in his\n works, for he enters into all his works as their cause, and\n their being is in him. We praise God in his saints, in all\n his works of nature or grace. The art is not the worship, but\n it is an adjunct to worship, and hence religion in all ages\n has called into its service the highest and richest forms of\n art.]\n\n{775}\n\nThese remarks are sufficient to show that all that Dr. Porter\nsays of the faculty of Representation is, when not confused or\nfalse, of no moment. He darkens instead of elucidating his\nsubject. We pass on, therefore, to his Part III., on Thinking and\nThought-Knowledge.\n\nThe mental operations treated by the author under the head of\nThinking and Thought-knowledge, are those which Locke calls by\nthe general name of reflection, and are conception, abstraction,\nor generalization, judgment, reasoning, deductive and inductive,\nand scientific or systematic arrangement. They are not faculties,\nbut operations of the mind. The proper English name for the\nfaculty on which they depend, so far as usage goes, is not\nthought, nor the power of thought--for every intellectual act,\nwhether representative or presentative, is a thought--but\n_understanding_ or _reason_. The old word was\nunderstanding, but it is objectionable, because it includes,\naccording to present usage, only the intellectual activity of the\nsoul, and implies nothing of voluntary activity. Reason is the\nbetter term; for it combines both the intellectual and the\nvolitive activity of the soul.\n\nThe objection of the professor that \"reason is used for the very\nhighest of the rational functions, or else in a very indefinite\nsense for all that distinguishes man from the brute,\" does not\nappear to us to be conclusive. Every intellectual act, the\nhighest as the lowest, is thought, an act of one and the same\nthinking faculty. The objects and conditions of knowledge may\nvary, but the faculty of knowledge does not vary with them.\nReason is not used in a more indefinite sense when used for all\nthat distinguishes man from the brute, than is thought as used by\nthe professor. Man is well defined to be _animal rationale_,\nor rational animal; but this does not mean that man is animal\n_plus_ reason, but the animal transformed by reason; and\nhence there is a specific difference between the sort of\nintelligence which it seems difficult to deny to animals, and the\nintelligence of man. All human intelligence is rational, the\nproduct of reason. Coleridge and our American transcendentalists,\nafter Kant, attempted to distinguish between understanding\n[_Verstand_] and reason [_Vernunft_], and to restrict\nunderstanding to that portion of our knowledge which is derived\nthrough the senses, and reason to an order of knowledge that\ntranscends all understanding, and to which only the gifted few\never attain. But they have not been successful. Knowledge of the\nhighest objects, as of the lowest, is by the same faculty, and we\nmay still use reason in its old sense, as the subjective\nprinciple of all the operations the professor calls thinking.\n\nThe word _reason_ is, indeed, used in an objective as well\nas in a subjective sense. As subjective, it is a faculty of the\nsoul; the objective reason is the ideal formula, and creates and\nconstitutes the subjective reason. Cousin distinguishes between\nthe two, but as between the personal and the impersonal--a mere\nmodal distinction, not a distinction of substance. He identifies\nthe objective reason with the [Greek text] or Word of God, while\nit is really identical with the ideal formula, which embraces\nboth being and existences, united and distinguished by the\ncreative act of being, as explained in our former article. This\nasserts a distinction of subject and of substance between the\nobjective and subjective reason asserted by Cousin. In the\nobjective reason, God, in the subjective, man, is the actor; and\nthere is all the difference of substance between them that there\nis between God and man, or between real, universal, and necessary\nbeing, and finite, contingent existence.\n{776}\nThey ought not to be both called by the same name, and we\nourselves rarely so call them. We ourselves call the objective\nreason the ideal formula, or, briefly, the ideal; yet good\nwriters and speakers do use the word in both senses. They say,\n\"Man is endowed with reason,\" or has a \"rational nature,\" in\nwhich they employ the term subjectively. They say, also, of such\nan assertion, \"It is unreasonable, or it is contrary to reason;\"\nthat is, to the truth, or principle of things, in which they use\nit objectively, as they do when they speak of the principles\naffirmed in the ideal formula, and call them the reason,\nnecessary and absolute ideas, or the principles of reason; for\nnothing necessary or absolute is or can be subjective.\n\nWe ourselves use the word in a subjective sense, and understand\nby it the faculty of reasoning, or the subjective principle of\nall our mental operations. It is not a simple power, but a\ncomplex power, embracing both the percipient and volitive\ncapacities of the soul. In every rational operation of the soul,\nthere is both perception and volition, and it is this fact that\ndistinguishes reason from the simple power of perception, or\nintellectual apprehension. We _see_ and we _look_, and\nwe _look_ that we may _see_; we _hear_ and we\n_listen_, and _listen_ that we may _hear_. The\n_looking_ and the _listening_ are peculiarly rational\nacts, in which the soul voluntarily, or by an act of the will,\ndirects her intellectual capacities to a special intellectual\npurpose or end. This voluntary activity, or direction of the\ncapacity to know, must not be confounded with free will; it is\nthe _voluntarium_ of the theologians, distinguished, on the\none hand, from spontaneity, and on the other, from the _liber\narbitrium_, or free will, which is the faculty of electing or\nchoosing between right and wrong, and implies, whichever it\nchooses, the power to choose the contrary. It is the principle of\nall moral accountability. The _voluntarium_ is a simple,\nvoluntary activity, or power of directing our attention to this\nor that intellectual object, or of using the cognitive power in\nthe service of science. The reason may be defined, then, the\nsoul's faculty of using her intellectual and volitive powers for\nthe explication and verification of the knowledge furnished by\npresentation.\n\nWith these preliminary remarks we proceed to consider some of the\nmental operations which give us what Professor Porter calls\nThought-Knowledge. We do not question the fact of these\noperations, nor their importance in the development of our\nrational life; what we deny is, that they are a power or faculty\nof the mind, and that in performing them they are objects of the\nmind, or that they add anything to the matter of our knowledge.\n\nThe professor says, p. 383, \"The power of thought [reason] as a\ncapacity [faculty] for certain psychological processes, is\ndependent for its exercise and development on the lower powers of\nthe intellect. These furnish the materials for it to work with\nand upon. We must apprehend the individual objects by means of\nthe senses and consciousness [pure sensism] before we can\n_think_ these objects.\" So in consciousness and\nsense-perception we do not think, and we must apprehend sensibles\nbefore we can think them! To intellectually apprehend an object\nis to think it. Intellectual apprehension and thought are one and\nthe same fact. The professor continues, \"We can classify,\nexplain, and methodize only individual things, and these must\nfirst be known by sense and consciousness before they can be\nunited and combined into generals.\"\n{777}\nHere are two errors and one truth. The first error is in\nregarding consciousness as a cognitive power or faculty, and the\nsecond is in confining the individual things to sensibles, or the\nmaterial world. We know in presentative knowledge not only the\nsensible but the supersensible, the intelligible, or ideal. The\nideal principles cannot be found, obtained, or created by the\nmind's own activity, and are apprehended by the mind only as they\nare given intuitively by the act of the Creator; but being given,\nthey are as really apprehended and known by the mind as any\nsensible object; nay, are what the mind apprehends that is most\nclear and luminous, so luminous that it is only by their light\nthat even sensibles are mentally apprehensible or perceptible.\nThe one truth is that the objects of the soul in her operations\nmust first be known either by perception or intuition before they\ncan be classified, explained, and methodized. Hence the\noperations of which the author treats under this head do not\nextend our knowledge of objects. They are all reflective\noperations, and reflection can only re-present what has already\nbeen presented.\n\nThe professor is right in maintaining that only individual\nobjects are apprehensible, if he means that we apprehend things\nonly in _individuo_ or _in concreto_; for this is what\nwe have all along been insisting on against him. Things are not\napprehensible in general, but in the concrete. Hence Rosmini's\nmistake in making the first and abiding object of the intellect\n_ens in genere_, which is a mere possible _ens_, and no\nreal being at all. It is simply conception or abstraction formed\nby the mind operating on the intuition of real being, which never\nis nor can be abstracted or generalized. Yet the author has\nargued under both presentative knowledge and representative\nknowledge that the mind, sometimes with, and sometimes without,\nanything distinct from and independent of itself, creates its own\nobject; and that the object, as well as the act, may be purely\npsychical. Thus he tells us that in sense-perception we do not\nperceive the material thing itself, but the joint product of the\nmaterial agent and the sentient organism; and that in\nrepresentation the object represented may be unreal, chimerical,\nand exist only in the soul, and for the soul alone. And he dwells\nwith great unction on the relief and advantage one finds in\nescaping from the real world to the unreal which the soul creates\nfor herself. True, he says that whatever the object, real or\nunreal, abstract or concrete, it is apprehensible only as an\nindividual object; but the unreal, the chimerical, the abstract,\nis never individual. Why does he call conceptions\n_concepts_, if not because he holds the conception is both\nthe act and the object of the mind in conceiving? And does he\nhold the concept to be always individual, never general?\nConception, in his system, is always a generalization, or a\ngeneral notion, formed by the mind, and existing only in the\nmind. How, then, can it be an object of the mind? He says truly\nthe object is individual, but \"the concept (p. 391) is uniformly\ngeneral.\" And yet, in the very first paragraph on the next page,\nhe calls it an object of cognition! Farther on, he says, \"The\nconcept is a purely relative object of knowledge,\" whatever that\nmay mean; and in the same section, section 389, he speaks of it\n\"as a mental product and _mental object_.'\" To our\nunderstanding, he thus contradicts himself.\n\n{778}\n\nYet we hold that whatever the mind cognizes at all, it cognizes\nin the concrete, as an individual object. And therefore we deny\nthat the ideas of the necessary, the universal, of necessary\ncause, and the like, which the author calls intuitions, and\ntreats as first principles, necessary assumptions, abstract\nideas, etc., are abstractions, mental conceptions, or\ngeneralizations; for there are no concretes or individual objects\nfrom which they can be abstracted or generalized. As we really\napprehend them, when affirmed in the ideal formula by the divine\nact, and as we cannot apprehend what is neither being nor\nexistence, as the author himself says, though continually\nasserting the contrary; and as every existence is a finite\ncontingent existence, they must be real, necessary, and universal\nbeing. They cannot be generalizations of being; for nothing is\nconceivable more general and universal than being. Being, taken\nin its proper sense, as the _ens simpliciter_ of the\nschoolmen, is itself that which is most individual and, at the\nsame time, the most general, the most particular and the most\nuniversal. These so-called necessary ideas, then, are being; and\nin apprehending them as intuitively affirmed, we do really\napprehend being. Hence, as being, real and necessary being, is\nGod, whom the theologians call _Ens necessarium et reale_,\nGod, in affirming the ideal formula, intuitively affirms himself,\nand we really apprehend him, not as he is in himself, in his\nessence, indeed, but as being, the ideal or the intelligible,\nthat is, as facing our intelligence; or, in other words, we\napprehend him as the subject of the judgment, _Ens creat\nexistentias_, or as the subject of the predicate existences,\nunited and distinguished by his creative act, the only real, as\nthe only possible, copula.\n\nThe author makes man the analogon of God, and, indeed, God in\nminiature, or a finite God, and gravely tells us, p. 100, that\n\"we have only to conceive the limitations of our being removed,\nand we have the conception of God.\" But as we are not being, but\nexistence, we are finite and limited in our very nature; remove\nthe limitations, and we are not God, but nothing. Eliminate the\nfinite, says P\u00e8re Gratry, and you have God, in the same way and\nby the same process that the mathematician has his\ninfinitesimals. But this process of elimination of the finite\ngives the mathematician only the infinitely less than the finite\nnumber or quantity, and it would give the theologian not the\ninfinitely greater but the infinitely less than the finite\nexistence. Besides, the process could at best give us not God in\nhis being, but a mere abstract God, existing only as a mental\ngeneralization. The universal cannot be concluded from the\nparticular, nor the necessary from the contingent, because,\nwithout the intuition of the universal and the necessary, we have\nand can have no experience of the particular and the\ncontingent--a fact we commend to the consideration of the\ninductive theologians.\n\nAs the conception is always general, it can never be the object\nof the mind in the fact of thought. It is a product of the mind\noperating on the individual object or objects with which the mind\nhas thought, and is never the object itself. The same may be said\nof generalization, abstraction, and every form of reasoning. But\nif this be so, in what are conceptions, abstractions, etc.,\nknown? If they are known at all, they must be objects of\nknowledge; if not known at all, how can we think or speak of\nthem?\n{779}\nThey are known in knowing their concretes, as the author himself\ntells us. As concepts, abstractions, generalizations, or general\nnotions, they do not exist in nature, and cannot be known or\nthought. But they exist as qualities or properties of things, and\nare known in knowing the things themselves. Thus we know round\nthings; all round things have the same property of being round;\nwe may, then, consider only this property common to all round\nthings, and form the general conception of roundness; but we do\nnot see or apprehend roundness, and the object of thought is\nalways the round thing. So of all so-called universals that are\nabstractions, conceptions, or generalizations. The object known\nis the concrete; the abstraction, abstracted from it, being\nnothing, is not known or even thought.\n\nBut Cousin, in his _Philosophie Scholastique_, has very\nproperly distinguished general conceptions or general notions\nfrom genera and species. The former are real only in their\nconcretes, and knowable only in them; the latter are real, and\nactually exist _a parte rei_. Genus has relation to\ngeneration, and is as real as the individual, for it generates\nthe individual. Hence, we cannot agree with Leibnitz, when he\nmakes the genus or species consist in resemblance, and declares\nthat resemblance real. The individual does not merely mimic the\ngenus, but is produced by it. The genus is always causative in\nrelation to the species, and the species, in relation to the\nindividual. The intelligible is always causative in relation to\nthe sensible, which copies or imitates it. The genus is not the\npossibility of individuals, nor are they its realization. It is\nnot a property or a quality of men as individuals, for it is, in\nthe order of second causes, the cause producing them, and\ntherefore cannot be generalized from them, or be a general notion\nor conception, like roundness, the generalization or abstract of\nround. Without the genus there could be no generation, as without\na generator there could be no genus. Yet, though genera and\nspecies, the only universals, properly so-called, are, as the old\nrealists held, real, existing _a parte rei_, and are\ndistinguishable from the individuals, as the generator from the\ngenerated, the species from the specificated; they are not\nseparable, and do not exist apart from them. Adam was an\nindividual, lived, acted, sinned, repented, and died, as an\nindividual man; yet was he the generic, as well as individual,\nman; for he was the whole human race, and the progenitor of all\nmen that have been born or are to be born.\n\nBut while we adopt, in relation to genera and species, the\ndoctrine of the mediaeval realists, we hold with regard to other\nso called universals with St. Thomas, who says they exist _in\nmente cum fundamento in re_. The _fundamentum in re_ of\nconceptions, abstractions, and generalizations is precisely the\nindividual objects apprehended by the mind from which reason\nabstracts or generalizes them. The only point which we now make\nagainst the author is that the object of thought or knowledge is\nnot the conception or notion, but the object from which the\nreason forms it; and that in it nothing is thought beyond that\nobject. Philosophy has been divested of its scientific character,\nmade infinitely perplexing and most difficult to be understood,\nas well as utterly worthless, by being regarded as the science,\nnot of things, but of these very conceptions, abstractions, and\ngeneral notions, which, apart from their individuals or\nconcretes, are pure nullities.\n{780}\nWe insist on this, because we wish to see philosophy brought back\nto the real, to objects of experience in their relation to the\nideal formula; and our principal quarrel with the professor is,\nthat his philosophy is not real, is not the science of realities,\nbut of conceptions and abstractions.\n\nWe can hardly pause on what the professor says of judgment and\nthe proposition. We can only remark in passing that every\nthought, every perception, even, is a judgment--a judgment that\nthe object thought or perceived is real or really exists. Every\naffirmation is a judgment, and every judgment is an affirmation;\nfor denials are made only by affirming the truth denied. Pure\nnegations are unintelligible, present no counteraction to the\nmind, and cannot be thought. \"The fool hath said in his heart,\nGod is--not.\" It is only by asserting that God is that we can\ndeny that he is. Every negation is the contradiction of what it\naffirms. So-called negative judgments are really affirmative. We\ndo not mean that denials cannot be made, for we are constantly\nmaking them; but they can be made only by affirming the truth;\nand the denial that transcends the truth affirmed in the denial\nis simply verbal, and no real denial at all. Universal negation\nis simply impossible; and hence when we have shown that any\nsystem of philosophy leads logically to nihilism, or even\nuniversal scepticism, we have refuted it. Logicians tell us that\nof contradictories one must be false; but it is equally just to\nsay, that of contradictories one must be true; for truth cannot\ncontradict itself, and only truth can contradict falsehood.\n\nBut we pass on to Reasoning, which the professor holds to be\nmediate judgment, and to which we hold all the reflective\noperations of reason may be reduced. What a mediate judgment is,\nwe do not know. Reasoning may be necessary as the means and\ncondition of judging in a certain class of cases, but the\njudgment itself is in all cases direct. The error of the\nprofessor here, as throughout the whole of this Part III., and,\nindeed, of his whole treatise, is that he treats every question\nfrom the point of view of conception, or the general notion,\ninstead of the point of view of reality, as he cannot help doing\nas an inductive psychologist.\n\nReasoning is a reflective operation. It operates on the matter\npresented by ideal intuition and experience; it clears up,\nexplains, verifies, and classifies what is intuitively affirmed,\ntogether with what experience presents. Its instrument is\nlanguage. We can think without language, and so far De Bonald was\nwrong, unless he understood, as the professor does, by thought,\nan act of reflection; but we cannot reflect or reason without\nlanguage of some sort to re-present to the mind's contemplation\nthe ideal or intelligible intuition. This re-presentation is not\nan act of the soul herself, nor the direct and immediate act of\nthe Creator, as is the ideal intuition. It is effected only by\nlanguage in which the ideal or intelligible is embodied and\nrepresented, and of which it is the sensible sign or\nrepresentation. In other words, the ideal is an object of\nreflection only as taught through the medium of language; for we\nmust bear in mind that man is not pure spirit or pure\nintelligence, but spirit united to body, and that he must have\nsome sort of sensible representation in order to reflect.\n{781}\nHence the peripatetic maxim, _nihil est in intellectu, quod non\nprius fuerit in sensu_, which does not mean that only\nsensibles are cognizable, but that nothing can be reflectively\nthought, or as the Italians say, re-thought, (_ripensare_,)\nwithout sensible representation. That God is, can be proved with\ncertainty by reason; for we have immediate intuition of that\nwhich is God in the intuition of real and necessary being; but we\ncannot reach the conclusion that the intuitively affirmed object\nreally is God without reflecting on the intuition, and this we\ncannot do unless it is re-presented or held up to our\ncontemplation in language, or without its being sensibly\nrepresented by the word God. Language is the necessary instrument\nof reason; we cannot reason without it, and only rational\nexistences have language properly so called. No animal deprived\nof \"the discourse of reason\" has even articulation.\n\nThose philosophers, or pretended philosophers, who regard\nlanguage either as a human invention or as the spontaneous\nproduction of human nature, have never duly considered its office\nin the development of thought, and in the rational operations of\nthe soul. Men could not have invented language without\nreflection, and without language they cannot reflect. It needs\nlanguage to be able to invent language. The other theory is no\nbetter. The soul does not secrete language as the liver secretes\nbile, for language has in it more than human nature. The\nspontaneous productions of nature may be less than nature, but\ncannot be more. There is a philosophy in language broader and\ndeeper than human thought, a philosophy that embraces elements\nwhich are known only by revelation, and which human nature does\nnot contain. All language is modelled after the ideal formula.\nIts essential elements are subject, predicate, and copula, or the\nnoun, adjective, and verb. The verb and adjective may be, and\noften are, combined in the same word, but they can be resolved\nalways into the predicate and copula. The copula is always the\nverb _to be_, or its equivalent in other languages than our\nown, and this verb is the only verb in any language.\n\nThe verb _to be_ is precisely the name of God himself, the\nSUM QUI SUM. We cannot make, then, a single assertion but by the\nDivine Being, and he enters as the copula into every one of our\njudgments without which no affirmation can be expressed. But God\nis supernatural, and is the author of nature; the ideal formula\nwhich is repeated in every judgment is not contained in human\nnature, is not in the human mind as in its subject, but is above\nour nature, and by affirming itself creates our nature, both\nphysical and intellectual. How then could our nature, operating\nsimply as second cause, produce spontaneously language which in\nits essential nature expresses what is beyond and above itself?\nMen, especially philosophers, or rather theorizers, have\ncorrupted and still continue to corrupt language, as we can see\nin the book before us; but we have never yet heard of any one by\nthe spontaneous action of nature secreting or producing a\nlanguage, or of any one having a language without being taught\nit. Yet nature is all to-day that it ever was, and as fresh, as\nvigorous, as prolific. Even the fall has not deprived it of any\nof its primitive faculties, capacities, properties, or\ntendencies. If language is a spontaneous production of human\nnature, we ought to have some instances of children growing up\nand speaking a rich and philosophical language without having\never learned it.\n{782}\nFor ourselves, we have a huge distrust of all those theories\nwhich assume that nature could and did do in the past what she\ndoes not and cannot do in the present. Our _savants_ employ\nthemselves in seeking the types of domestic animals in the wild\nraces; why not seek the type of the wild races in the domestic?\nWhy suppose man could and once did domesticate races which he\nfinds it difficult, if not impossible, to domesticate now? We do\nnot believe much in the modern doctrine of progress, but we\nbelieve just as little in the wonderful superiority of nature and\nmen in ante-historical times, which is sometimes assumed,\nespecially by the champions of progress.\n\nLanguage is neither a human invention nor a natural production,\nbut was created by God himself and infused into man along with\nthe affirmation of the ideal formula, when he made him and placed\nhim in the Garden, and it has been perpetuated by tradition, or\nby being handed down from father or rather mother to child. It\ncomes to us from the hand of the Creator; he who made man gave\nhim speech. We can explain the origin of language in no other\nway, as we can explain the origin of man only by saying with the\ncatechism, God made him. As language is the instrument of reason,\nand re-presents to his contemplation the ideal which the Creator\nfitted it to symbolize, its corruption or confusion has a most\ndisastrous effect on philosophy. It was confounded at Babel, and\nmen lost the unity of speech, and with it the unity of the ideal,\nand were dispersed. The Gentiles lost the unity of language, and\nthey lost with it the unity of the ideal, or the copula of the\ndivine judgment, and labored to explain, as our modern\n_savants_ are laboring to explain, the existence and laws of\nthe universe without the creative act of God. Language, corrupted\nre-presented to the ancient Gentiles, and as it does to our\nmodern physiologists and psychologists, the ideal only in a\nmutilated form, and hence the fatal error of Gentilism and of\nmodern so-called science, which asserts pantheism. It is\nnecessary, in order to have a true philosophy, to have some means\nof preserving the purity and infallibility of speech, and at no\nformer period was such means more necessary than it is now.\n\nThe instrument of reasoning is language; its form is the\nsyllogism, which is given in the ideal formula. All the matter of\nknowledge is given in presentation, and the syllogism does not\nadvance it; but it explains, distinguishes, arranges it according\nto the real relations of the objects known, clears up what is\nobscure, and verifies what is uncertain, doubtful, by reducing\nthe whole to its principle or principles. The principle and model\nof the syllogism are in the ideal. Being and existences are the\nextremes, and the creative act is the _medius terminus_. The\nmajor represents being, the minor existences, and the middle term\nproduces the conclusion. To this regular form of the syllogism\nevery form of argument is reducible. If the major is universal,\nand the minor is proved, the conclusion is necessary and\napodictic.\n\nThe modes in which reason operates are two, deduction and\ninduction, or analysis and synthesis. Induction is simple\nanalysis, or what Kant calls analytic judgment, and simply\ndissects the subject, analyzes it, and brings out to our distinct\nview what is in it. It is never illative, but always explicative,\nand enables us to distinguish the part in the whole, the property\nin the essence, or the effect in the cause.\n{783}\nDr. Porter entirely mistakes it in supposing it to be an\nimperfect induction. There is nothing inductive in it. Induction\nis what Kant calls a synthetic judgment _a posteriori_, and\nadds an element not contained in the subject analyzed. In\nsynthetic judgments _a posteriori_, the added element is\ntaken from experience; in synthetic judgments _a priori_,\nthe added element is from the ideal formula, intuitively given,\nor rather, the ideal formula is that into which what Kant calls\nsynthetic judgments _a priori_ are resolvable. The syllogism\nis used in deduction and in induction; yet it is not properly\neither, but is productive. As being creates existences, so the\nmajor through the middle term unites the minor to itself and\nproduces the conclusion. Such men as Sir William Hamilton and J.\nStuart Mill, who reject the middle term, and hold the major may\nbe a particular proposition, are misled by their philosophy,\nwhich excludes the creative act of God both from the universe and\nfrom science. No man who has a false or defective philosophy can\nunderstand logic as a science. Pantheism, which excludes the\ncreative act, is the supreme sophism. It is not easy to say what\nDr. Porter's views of logic, either as a science or as an art,\nreally are.\n\nThe chief complaint against the professor here is, that he makes\nreasoning turn on the laws of the mind, on conceptions, and\ngeneral notions, and reflecting, as logic, only the relations and\nforms of the creations or products of the mind, instead of the\nrelations and forms of things. He studies everything from the\npoint of view of the mental act, instead of studying them from\nthe point of view of the ideal intuition, which is the point of\nview of God himself. He therefore gives in his science, not\nthings as they are, but as the mind conceives them.\n\nThe conceptions and general notions play, no doubt, an important\npart in the process of reasoning, but they play not the chief\npart, nor do they impose upon logic the laws it must follow. The\ncategories are not general conceptions or general notions, formed\nby generalizing individuals or particulars. M. Cousin assumes\nthat he has reduced them to two, substance and cause, or being\nand phenomenon: but as with him substance is a necessary cause,\nand as phenomenon is only an appearance or mode of substance, his\nreduction is really to one, the category of substance, which it\nis needless to say is pure pantheism. They, however, may be\nreduced to the three terms of the ideal formula; for whatever is\nconceivable is being, existence, or the creative act of being.\nThe categories are not, then, merely formal, simply conceived by\nthe mind _cum fundamento in re_; but are the ideal\nprinciples of things themselves. Take the categories of space and\ntime, which seem to puzzle the author as they have puzzled many\ngreater and wiser men than he. Space is ideal and actual. Ideal\nspace is the power or ability of God to externize his act, that\nis, to create or act _ad extra_; and actual space is the\nrelation of coexistence of his externized acts or creatures.\nIdeal space pertains to being, is being itself; actual space\nbeing a real relation between creatures, and, like all relations,\nreally existing in the related, comes under the head of\nexistences, and is joined to being as well as distinguished from\nit by the creative act. The reason of space and time is the same.\nTime also is ideal and actual. Actual time is the relation of\nsuccession, and ideal time is the ability of God to create\nexistences that, as second causes, are explicated and completed\nsuccessively, or reach their end progressively. Ideal time is\nGod. Actual time is creature, since all relations really exist in\nthe related. The difficulty which so many eminent men have felt\nwith regard to these two categories, evidently reducible to the\nterms of the ideal formula, grow out of their attempt to abstract\nthem, the ideal from God, and the actual from the related,\nwhether existences or events. Take away the body and the space\nremains, says Cousin. Certainly; because the intuition of the\nability of God to externize his act--that is to create--remains.\nSo of time. So of the infinite lines of the geometrician. No\nactual line is infinite, and the conception of its infinity is\nbased on the intuition of the infinite power or ability of God,\nthe real ground on which the line, when conceived to extend\nbeyond the actual, is projected.\n\nThere are various other points presented by the learned professor\nin this part and in Part IV. on which we intended to comment, but\nwe have exhausted our space and the patience of our readers. We\nhave said enough, however, to show that he recognizes intuition\nonly as an act of the soul, and therefore, however honorable his\nintention, since he fails to recognize ideal intuition, which is\nthe act of God, he fails to get beyond experience, to extend\nscience beyond the sensible or material world with the operations\nof the soul on sensations, and therefore cannot be followed as a\nsafe guide in the philosophy of the human mind. He has learning,\nindustry, and even philosophical instincts, but is ruined by his\nso-called Baconian method.\n\n ----------\n\n{784}\n\n Heremore-Brandon; Or,\n The Fortunes Of A Newsboy.\n\n\n Chapter VI.\n\nI could not tell you one half the projects Dick formed and\nrejected as entirely hopeless before he at last succeeded in\ninducing a gentleman who had been very kind to him to make an\noffer to Mr. Brandon of some place in his office, which, while it\nwould not be more than, with his now broken energies and failing\nhealth, he could easily perform, if he had the disposition, would\ngive him something to help him live upon.\n\nSoon after this offer was made and (with much grumbling) finally\naccepted, Dick, without really seeking it, found himself becoming\nknown to Mr. Brandon; and, thanks to the patience with which he\nlistened to that gentleman's railings against the world, and his\nown hard fortunes in it, taken into favor. It was a very sad\nsight for a hopeful, self-respecting, God-fearing Catholic like\nDick to see this querulous man, from whom all vigorous spirit\nseemed to have fled, brooding over his losses, instead of holding\nup his head, and bravely going forth to make the most of what was\nleft; a sad thing to hear these miserable repinings in which\nthere was never a thought of gratitude for the long years of\ncomfort and plenty with which God had blessed him.\n{785}\nBut Dick bore it patiently, and sought in every way which his\nsimple experience could devise to draw him from his despondency;\nto inspire him with some trust in God. It was, however, without\nany apparent success, other than greater condescension from Mr.\nBrandon, who, at last, weak and nervous, would gladly avail\nhimself of Dick's young strength in his walks home.\n\nAnd so, in time, that which had seemed the impossible came to\npass very naturally. Mr. Brandon urged Dick to enter the house,\nand he was received as a guest in Miss Brandon's home. Home it\nmust be called, I suppose; though it was a dreary, desolate room,\nwith \"boarding-house\" stamped in glaring letters all over the\ngrey walls and badly-assorted furniture. Even Dick could realize\nthat it must be a very different home from any which Miss Brandon\nhad ever seen before; for it was far different from the only\npretty rooms _he_ had ever entered--those dear, clean, sweet\nrooms at Mrs. Alaine's.\n\n\"Mr. Heremore, Mary,\" was his introduction, accompanied by a\npatronizing wave of Mr. Brandon's hand. Do not be surprised; you\nknow I have never said--not even in his days of prosperity--that\nhe was a gentleman--\"Mr. Heremore, Mary; a young man who has\nthought it not worth while to be unkind and disrespectful to an\nold man who has lost every thing.\"\n\n\"I have heard my father speak of you often,\" said Mary very\nquietly; but in such gentle tones that Dick wondered how any man\ncould count himself poor--knowing _her_.\n\n\"I really felt very nervous,\" Mr. Brandon further explained,\n\"about coming home alone. I have been so very uncomfortable\nto-day. But that's of no consequence, of course, _now_.\"\n\n\"I am very glad you brought Mr. Heremore,\" Mary answered readily,\nand with more warmth than before; and I am sure he was very\ncareful of you.\"\n\nAfter that, conversation became somewhat easier; although Dick\nfelt half like an impostor, and could not do much to second Miss\nBrandon's efforts to make the hour go by pleasantly. She had\nseveral albums and scrap-books of engravings with which she tried\nto entertain him; but to do his best, he could think of little\nelse than the languid, weary manner which had replaced the quick\nsteps and stately sweetness he had known of old. When Mr. Brandon\nleft them for a few minutes, she turned with animation and said:\n\n\"Mr. Heremore, I must thank you for your kindness to my father. I\nwould not have him suppose I consider it kindness, but in my\nheart I know it is, and I know you mean it as such. Since things\nhave gone wrong with him, he seems to have changed his whole\nnature; he does not appear to have any courage to stand against\nthe tide. I suppose it would have been very different if Mrs.\nBrandon had lived; a wife would have kept his spirits up as no\none else can.\"\n\n\"I know,\" stammered Dick, not knowing what to say under the gaze\nof her beautiful eyes, \"I know--that the death of your mother\nlast summer--\"\n\n\"Mrs. Brandon, you mean,\" she interrupted in her quietest tones,\n\"that is, my father's second wife. This Mrs. Brandon was not my\nmother; my own mother died long ago.\" This so coldly that, for\nsome inexplicable reason, Dick fancied she was glad to correct\nhim.\n\n{786}\n\n\"You were in the carriage at the same time,\" said Dick, feeling\nthat he must say something.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Mary, \"but I remember little about it; as soon as\nwe found the horses were running away, Mrs. Brandon became very\nmuch alarmed, and almost before I could say a word to her, we\nwere thrown out, and were both picked up senseless. She was not\nconscious of anything again. All these things together have\ncompletely unnerved poor papa, and I really feel very grateful to\nany one who is interested in him. His old friends have received\nbut little encouragement to visit us here, although it is only a\nfancy of papa's, I am sure, that they feel any difference, and he\nis often quite lonely.\"\n\nMr. Brandon soon returned, and seeming to wish his daughter's\nundivided attention, Dick rose and said, \"good-night.\"\n\nIt need hardly be said that he was after this more\nenthusiastically devoted to their fortunes than ever before. He\nspent a few hours there at different times during the winter and\nspring, and soon found himself at ease in that dreary room; but\nas he knew Mary better, his reverence for her, while it\ndiminished not in the least, became a deep and fervent feeling,\nwhich kept her always in his thoughts. She, too, seemed to regard\nhim with very kindly feelings, and the sympathy between them was\nso strong that it bore down many of their differences of\nassociation and education, and each was astonished to find an\nunexpectedly ready understanding in the other. But as yet Dick\nhad said nothing of the little girl on the steps who gave him her\ncandy one cold Christmas morning years ago.\n\nOnce at New-Year's, and again on the 22d of February, holidays on\nwhich he was free, Dick had been down to the cottage in the\ncountry, and had seen Rose and the boys skate and make\nsnow-houses, and spent two of the coziest, happiest evenings of\nhis life around the bright fire, talking pleasant talk with those\ndear people, among whom alone he realized the faintest idea of\nthe word home. Now time had gone by so rapidly that he was to\nspend a whole week there as he had the year before. But not\nexactly the same; for the last time he had been there a clear,\nbright day in February, when they were all coming home from the\nskating-pond together--it had chanced that he and Rose had fallen\nfar in the rear of the children, who, having skated since one\no'clock in the keen air, professed themselves \"ever so hungry,\"\nand, as Dick would not hurry with them, walked off in disgust,\neach declaring to the other that they didn't like Mr. Dick, half\nso much this time as before; he was \"no good\" at all.\n\n\"What a magnificent day!\" Dick said, for about the tenth time, as\nhe tramped by Rose's side through the crisp snow, just as the sun\nwas going down in one great glow before them. \"I think I never\nsaw a more splendid winter day in all my life.\"\n\nNot thinking of any addition to this speech, and not being able\nwith truth to contradict it, Rose kept on her way, her neat\nlittle boots cutting the snow, and making, Dick thought, the most\ndelicious music there ever was. Rose looked especially charming\nthat afternoon; from the very crown of her head, with her wealth\nof golden hair, only half hidden by her felt hat, to the dainty\nlittle boots before mentioned, which her warm skating dress,\nlooped up, did not even affect to conceal, Rose was charming.\n{787}\nDick thought that her very cloak seemed to nestle more lovingly\nto her plump figure than another's would; and as for the tiny\nmuff, Uncle Carl's present, and the blue silk handkerchief\nknotted around her neck, Dick was certain that Stewart never sold\nanything half so pretty. So, if his lips talked about the\nweather, it is hardly surprising that his eyes embraced another\nsubject; and I question if, when her demure glances met his gaze,\nRose needed words to tell her its meaning; for, after all, are\nwords, the dearest and sweetest that come from the lips, any\ndearer or sweeter than those the eyes speak?\n\nBut whatever she knew, Rose was a true little woman, and showed\nno sign.\n\n\"This is the place where Mrs. Brandon was thrown,\" she said, as\nthey passed a broad street cutting across the narrow road they\nwere following. \"Just by those trees. They say the horses could\nhave been managed only for her screams; a woman who screams at\nsuch a time must have very little sense.\"\n\n\"I think so,\" answered Dick, looking sadly toward the place Rose\npointed out.\n\n\"Miss Mary behaved wonderfully well,\" continued Rose, with one\nquick look into Dick's face as they passed on. \"She was perfectly\ncalm, and tried to quiet Mrs. Brandon. She was very much hurt\nherself.\"\n\n\"Yes, so I have heard; she shows it, too; you would hardly\nrecognize her now, she is so thin and altered.\"\n\n\"But, of course, she is more beautiful for that,\" said little,\nplump Rose, who had a great idea of delicate, fragile girls.\n\n\"Not more beautiful, exactly,\" answered Dick, who had not a great\nidea of delicate, fragile girls, \"but it makes one feel for her\nmore.\"\n\n\"I know you feel for her very much,\" said Rose.\n\n\"I have always honored her very much,\" answered Dick warmly. \"It\nalmost seems presumption for me to say I _feel_ for her; but\nI do, indeed I do.\"\n\n\"I am sure of it,\" Rose responded with great warmth, and then\nthere was silence for a long time.\n\nRose broke it with a little trembling in the first word or two at\nher own audacity, but gathering courage as she went on: \"I knew\nyou did when you were here last summer; then I heard of her\nfather's failure, and then it seemed more natural; and--now--I am\nvery glad for your sake. I hope you will be very happy. I do,\nindeed.\"\n\nNow, Dick was no fool, and when the strangeness of this speech\ncaused him to look harder than ever into the glowing but demure\nlittle face by the side of him, he felt for the moment a great\ninclination not to say a word; for provokingly innocent as she\nlooked, he did not believe she was at all so ignorant of the real\nstate of things. Rose felt the moment's hesitation, and, poor\nlittle thing, got frightened at her own conjuring, which fright\nso changed the expression of her face that Dick's hesitation\nvanished, and he answered:\n\n\"Of course I know what you mean, Rose, although it is so strange.\nI do not think of such a thing--it would be very strange if I\ndid. You know better, don't you, Rose?\"\n\nRose looked up with a careless answer, but thought better of it,\nand said nothing.\n\n\"You never did really think it, did you, Rose?\" he added,\npursuing his advantage, and repeating it until there was no\nescape for Rose, who had to answer truthfully, \"No.\" She having\nmade this concession, he made one, and told her the story of his\nboyish days, and of the Christmas day when he first saw Mary\nBrandon.\n{788}\nHe had not felt very easy about Rose's opinion of much he had to\ntell her, and was greatly relieved when he saw all her assumed\ncarelessness depart, and that she listened to him with earnest\nsympathy. He was so encouraged by the gentle, womanly interest\nshe gave him that he did not stop with the history of his boyish\ndays, but went on to narrate a later experience; very few words\nsufficed for this. When he told it, Rose understood very well\nwhy, if Mary Brandon were a queen upon her throne, she would be\nno more than friend or sister to him.\n\nAfter that, there seemed no more to be said; for they finished\nthe walk in the still winter twilight almost in silence.\n\nThat was in February, when Dick went down to Carlton to spend\nWashington's birthday, and it inaugurated a new era for Will.\nRose had a sudden interest in the post-office, which was a long\nwalk from the cottage, and, in rainy weather or on very busy\ndays, was beyond her reach. I believe all her spare pennies went\ninto Will's coffers about that time, and I am sure all her cakes\nand apples went into his possession; but, for all that, he was an\nungrateful page, and wished \"there wasn't no post-offices in the\nworld,\" which opinion Will may alter when his own time comes.\n\nThis was in February, and it was now August, and Dick was going\ndown for a week, one whole week in the country. Rose was at the\ngate as she had been a year ago; but she did not say \"you are\nwelcome,\" as she had said before. The children took him into\nfavor when they found he had not come empty-handed, but had\nbrought the books for Will, the doll for Trot, and just such toys\nfor the rest as were most desired; and though many times in their\nrambles Will did have his patience sorely tried by \"Mr. Dick's\neverlasting lagging,\" he was, on the whole, admitted to be an\nacquisition. I believe, though, that Rose's bosom-friend, Clara\nHays, who was always urged to be of every party, and sadly\nneglected when she got there, was the greatest sufferer; it is\nnot every day you see lovers who are perfectly well-bred and\nconsiderate for everybody. My excuse for Rose and Dick is, that\nthey only had a week, and a week is such a short time when one is\nvery happy!\n\nDick's week was nearly at its end when his birthday, his\ntwenty-first birthday came, and his good friends made a little\nrejoicing for him in their homely way. It was a very beautiful\nAugust day, and was celebrated like a holiday by all the family.\nYet it was not exactly a cloudless day for Dick, though it was\nthe first birthday of his that had ever received the slightest\nnotice from any one, and ought to have made him radiantly happy.\nHe had received a present made for him with her own hands, with\nno one could tell how many loving thoughts of him worked in it,\nfrom his own dear Rose. His little table was covered with the\nfirst keepsakes he had ever received from any one, and still he\nwas not happy. Among the treasures on his little table there\nstood one--which reminds me that I should not have called the\nothers the first--from the mother whose face he could not\nremember, and what might it not contain? Hitherto he had thought\nbut little of the box of which Carl spoke so slightingly years\nago; but now that the day of opening it had come, he grew really\nafraid of it. He remembered stories of vengeance bequeathed from\nthe grave, of crimes to be expiated by the children of the\nperpetrators years afterward, of fearful confessions of sin and\nsorrow and wrong in countless forms; and Dick, in the first glow\nof his first joyous days, did not know how he could bear even a\nmist upon the rising sun of his happiness.\n\n{789}\n\n\"Not until the last thing to-night,\" he said finally, laying down\nthe box and turning away from the table. \"I will be happy to the\nlast minute,\" and he went down to ask Rose to walk with him in\nthe beautiful twilight after tea. It was earlier than he had\nthought when he went down, and Rose was reading in the shadow of\nthe porch, or seeming to read, for a book was in her hand, and\nnot, as he supposed, engaged in getting tea.\n\n\"I did not suppose I should find you here,\" said Dick.\n\n\"Shall I go away?\" she asked, looking up and smiling.\n\n\"Yes, do,\" he replied, sitting by her, \"you know there's nothing\nwould please me better.\" But for all he tried to be gay, Rose saw\nthat the shadow she had observed over him all day was deeper than\nbefore.\n\n\"Dear friend,\" she said, softened and made earnest at once,\n\"something troubles you to-day.\"\n\n\"Yes, dear Rose, I am troubled to-day in spite of all the\nkindness shown me. My little box troubles me; I am afraid to open\nit.\"\n\n\"Then the best thing is to do it at once, is it not? One only\nmakes such things worse by thinking about them.\"\n\n\"I know it. No, I will not open it now; I will have every moment\nof happiness I can first.\"\n\n\"What happiness can it take from you? You will be yourself still,\nlet there be in it what there will. Our happiness is our own.\"\n\n\"O Rose!\"\n\n\"O Dick! if we are good, are we not happy? And nobody can make us\nbad against our will.\"\n\n\"But, Rose, this may tell me something that you--there is my\nfear, Rose, it may take you away from me.\"\n\n\"Oh! no, Dick, dear Dick, how can anything take me away from you?\nBut even if it did, you know we always said, '_If it were for\nthe best_.' If it were not for the best, we would not wish it,\nwould we, dear? Yes, we could help wishing it; when the good God\nsaw it was not best, he would give us strength to bear it.\"\n\n\"I never could bear it,\" said Dick.\n\n\"Yes, you would; but I am not afraid. One should not be afraid of\none's own parents. Come, there is a long time before tea. We will\ngo up the hill where no one will interrupt us, and where we shall\nbe within call if we are wanted. Won't you get the box, Dick, and\nwe will open it up there? that is, if you want me with you.\"\n\n\"You make me brave, dear Rose. Perhaps, after all, it is\nnothing.\"\n\nSo he did as she advised; and, seated a little back of the house,\nthe only spot in which there could be five minutes' reading\npossible, he broke the seal, undid the wrapping, now yellow with\nage, while Rose spoke a word or two of courage, then turned her\nhead a little away from him, and you may be sure prayed hard and\nfast for strength and grace for both to hear whatever of good or\nof evil was in store for them. Inside the wrapper Dick found a\ntiny key with which he eagerly unlocked the little mahogany box\nwhich was, perhaps, to make great revelations to him.\n\nThen Rose drew still further away, from him, and with a more\nearnest gaze watched the sun going down to the west; for they\nwere young, and many things that you and I would count the merest\ntrifles, were of great importance to them; neither thought of\nanything worse than of something which should separate them.\n{790}\nPoor little Rose trembled lest he should find a will therein--as\nshe had read in story-books--that would make him too rich and\ngreat for her to think of him; and Dick, to whom her love for him\nhad always seemed a wonder--so great was his reverence for her\nand his own feeling of unworthiness--trembled lest he should find\nsome legacy of disgrace that would make it impossible for him\never to see Rose again. So in silence and with wordless but\nearnest prayers, they sat together in the softening August\nsunlight, with hearts beating heavily for fear it might be for\nthe last time.\n\n\n Chapter VII.\n\nAfter all, there was not much in the mysterious box. A square\npackage, looking like a letter, folded in the old style, and just\nfitting in the box, lay uppermost; upon the outside of which, in\na clear, round hand, was written the name _Richard\nHeremore_. Before breaking the seal of this, Dick took out two\npaper boxes, in each of which was a miniature, painted on ivory;\nhe glanced at one, then with an expression of intense relief, not\nunmingled with something of awe, he, for the first time, turned\nto Rose.\n\n\"Look, Rose,\" he said, in a low voice.\n\n\"Do you think this is your mother?\" she asked, in a voice even\nlower and more reverential than his, after a long, long look; for\nit was a young and beautiful face, with clear eyes that looked\nfrankly at you, and that bore in every feature the unmistakable\nstamp of true womanliness. 'Do you think this is your mother?\"\n\n\"I cannot tell yet,\" said Dick; \"but as _this_ is here, it's\nall right; there's nothing more to dread now!\"\n\nBut Rose did not answer. Her quick eyes had seen more than the\ncharacter; they had placed the original of that portrait in her\nproper social sphere, and that--the highest.\n\nThe other miniature was of a man somewhat older, though not more\nthan twenty-five or thirty, if so much; but it was a face of less\ncharacter and less culture. Dick showed it to Rose, but neither\nmade any comment upon it. Dick then broke the seal of the letter,\nand again Rose turned away her face. A few slips of paper fell\nout as he unfolded the package; these he gathered up without\nlooking at them, and then, calling Rose's name once more, he read\nin a low voice, from the yellow paper, his mother's letter:\n\n\"My Dear Child: I have put aside a few little things that have\nbeen treasures to me, and as I may not live to see the day when I\ncan give them to you, I write a few lines with them, which\npossibly may come to your eyes some day. A healthy, ruddy little\nfellow you are, creeping around my feet and trying to climb up my\ndress as I write, and I am so weak a woman that I may hardly\nstoop to raise my darling to my lap. It is hard for me, seeing\nyou so, to write to you as a man; and what kind of a man I have\nno way to judge. I fear I shall not live long enough to leave any\nimpression of your mother's face upon you; and what will become\nof you, my own dear child, in this terrible world after I am\ngone, I dare not think. You are so tender and good now that I\ncannot realize that you will change; but you will have no one to\nguide you. You put your arms up to me, your brown, hard little\narms, as if to beg me not to speak of this, and I will try to\nbelieve that God will save you through everything; so that when\nyou read this, you will be one whom I would be proud to own if I\nlived.\n\n{791}\n\n\"You are my greatest comfort, and such a comfort! It seems as if\nyou knew everything, and could console for everything; and often\nI think that for you I shall in some way find strength to\nstruggle on for a few years more. Dear child, I know not how much\nor how little to tell you. I would like to write volumes for you,\nthat you might know me in the future days when no father, mother,\nor brother will be near to help you in your troubles. But I can\nonly write a little.\n\n\"I have been married five years, and you are my oldest but not my\nonly child. You have a sweet little sister asleep on the bed. I\nsay the words to you aloud, and you creep on tiptoe to look at\nher, turning and smiling at me as you go. Even if she should live\nafter I am gone, which I cannot wish for, I cannot tell whether\nyou will be kept together; if not, I know you will care for her\nif it is possible, if only because your dead mother asks it. I\ncannot believe the wonderful child-love you have for her and me\nwill be permitted to die out, or that your heart can ever grow\nhard, your heart so tender now. There! kiss the dimpled hand ever\nso softly and come away, for you must not wake the darling now.\nWill you love her always, let what may be her fate? Remember\nalways, she had no mother to guide her. Your father I have not\nseen for two years, since Mamie was a few months old. I have\nsince heard that he is dead. I know none of his relatives; for he\nbrought me an entire stranger to New York three years ago, and\nseemed unwilling that I should make many acquaintances. I have no\nrelatives whom I have ever seen, in the world, except my father,\nwho lives, or did live, at Wiltshire, in Maine. I do not know if\nhe is living or not; I have written to him again and again, but I\nhave heard nothing from him. He would have come to me if he were\nalive, for he was always devoted to me. I could write you a\nhundred letters about his love and devotion; and now, if I could\nonly let him know where I am, he would come to me wherever he\nmight be. I have named you for him. He saw you once when you were\na month old; he came and took me home for the summer; he loved\nyou dearly, as he loved me, and was proud enough of you. If only\nI could put you and Mamie in his hands now, how contentedly I\ncould die! For this I toiled and struggled from the day I saw\nyour father last, until this poverty and sickness have killed all\nhope. Not all hope; for I think every step I hear--and I hear\nthousands passing by--that my father has come to me to save me,\nto take my darlings under his care, and to let me die on my own\nwhite bed in my own dear room at home.\n\n\"There, darling, there's no more to tell. Why should I tell more?\nYou come of good blood, my child, of a brave, upright race. My\nchild, my darling, put your arms tight, tight around mamma's\nneck, and promise for the man that you will be worthy of your\nname and race. Be good, be true, be honest. How I should blush in\nmy grave, it seems to me, if child of mine, if these dear\nchildren, so pure and innocent, who cling to me now, covering me\nwith kisses, should soil their white souls with falsehood,\ndeceit, or dishonesty. God knows what I would say. Fatherless,\nmotherless, I must leave my little ones; no earthly help, no\ncomfort, nothing, only the one hope that will not leave me to my\nlatest breath, that my father lives, will find me out, save me,\nand take care of you.\n\n{792}\n\n\"It has been hard for me to write this poor, childish letter; one\npoor apple-woman--poor, yet not so poor as I--has been my only\nfriend; to her I have talked for hours of you, and she has\nlistened earnestly, and will do her utmost for you two. God will\naid her, I know. I will not put any 'good-byes' on paper so\nlittle likely ever to be seen by your eyes; but I will kiss you a\nthousand times, my darling, while I take one last look at these\nportraits of your father and me, you leaning against my knee\nlooking at them too. You, pure, unsullied child, shall cling to\nme, and answer, though you cannot understand, the promises to be\ngood I ask of you to fulfil through all your life. Your mother,\n\n \"Mary Heremore Brandon.\"\n\n\"_Brandon_!\" repeated Rose and Dick together, when he read\nthe signature. Then Dick read the slips of paper that had fallen\nout of the letter; they were all the same, notices of her\nmarriage from different papers:\n\n \"MARRIED. At the residence of the bride's father, on Wednesday,\n May 5th, Charles Brandon, of New-York, to Mary, only daughter\n of Dr. Richard Heremore, of Wiltshire, Maine.\"\n\nRose looked at Dick almost with terror in her face. Dick knew not\nhow to answer her.\n\n\"It may not be the same,\" she said at last.\n\n\"The letter does not seem sure of his death,\" suggested Dick.\n\n\"But you have met him--would he not have noticed your name?\"\n\n\"I should think so. But it was long ago, and perhaps he has known\nothers of the name. Besides, Miss Brandon--O Rose! if she should\nbe that sister!--Miss Brandon told me her mother died long ago;\nshe seemed so proudly to disclaim this Mrs. Brandon, whom I\ncalled her mother.\"\n\n\"How could he be with your father, if Mr. Brandon is that, and he\nnot know any thing about you?\"\n\n\"I cannot understand it. I will go to see him to-morrow.\"\n\n\"O Dick!\"\n\n\"Yes, dear Rose, I must. I have only two days of vacation left,\nand I must know all before I go back.\"\n\n\"And then you will not be here for so long?\"\n\n\"Yes, I will, Rose; I'll be here if I have to walk all night, see\nyour windows, and go back before daylight! Yes, I will see you. I\nwill not bear all the long separation as I did before, it is too\nmuch! Now, may I go to-morrow?\"\n\n\"Yes, Dick, you must go. O Dick! what a mother she was! I can\njust see her, so weak she could not lift little you in her arms;\nand yet, I am sure, giving you a thousand caresses, and crying\nover you as she wrote that letter! If she could only see you\nnow!\"\n\n\"I know she does see me; but she does not see me as I ought to\nbe, having had such a mother.\"\n\n\"She is proud of you if she sees you.\"\n\n\"See how patient she was, Rose! She says she is poorer than the\npoor apple-woman, and yet no complaint; and she was not used to\ntrouble, I am sure, from her face.\"\n\n\"So sweet and grave as she is! Really, Richard, look! Upon my\nword, Miss Brandon has just such eyes! It _is_ so! See! the\nsame blue-gray eyes, so clear, deep, and looking at you so\nfrankly and graciously; not with the frankness of a question\nasked; but--I can't describe it--but that calm, straightforward\nway Miss Mary has when she listens to you; always as if she would\nencourage you, too, to go on. Indeed, you must go to-morrow!\"\n\n{793}\n\n\"It is so strange, Rose. I feel my head almost turning. Have we\ntime to read it over once more?\"\n\n\"I fear not, for it is already quite late; but you will tell\nmamma and Aunt Clara about it, and Uncle Carl?\"\n\n\"Oh! at once; as soon as I can. I shall think of nothing else\nuntil to-morrow. Rose, he must have treated her badly, or she\nwould have given me his name instead of her father's.\"\n\n\"I think, perhaps she meant _Brandon_ to be added.\"\n\n\"She does not say a word against him; but she does not praise\nhim. I will make him tell me, himself, if he is the man. Do you\nthink he is?\"\n\n\"I am sure of it! And Miss Brandon is your sister; perhaps that\nis why she spoke to you that Christmas day, and why you have\nalways been so attracted to her.\"\n\n\"How strange it is! Will she be sorry to have me for a brother, I\nwonder?\"\n\n\"Sorry! She will be very proud of you.\"\n\n\"I wonder how I should speak to her. O Rose, Rose! do say\nsomething to steady me; I feel so strange, and as if I were\ntalking so foolishly!\"\n\n\"You are not talking foolishly, dear Dick; and if you were, there\nis only Rose to hear you, and shall you not talk as you please to\nher?\"\n\n\"Thank God, my darling! this has not separated us.\"\n\n\"No, not yet.\"\n\n\"Not yet!\"\n\n\"What will your new father and your grand sister think of me?\"\n\n\"Well, Rose, wait till I ask them!\"\n\n\"Perhaps a grandfather, too,\" said Rose.\n\n\"I love him already. If he should be living, that would be\nsomething grand, wouldn't it? You may be sure she loved him.\"\n\n\"And you may be sure she never let him know until perhaps the\nvery last, that she was in trouble. Women and children never tell\ntheir sorrows to those who are entitled to help them.\"\n\n\"Why, Rose?\"\n\n\"Oh! I cannot tell you that! I only know it's so. Here we are at\nhome. Have patience; for though to-morrow you will have the news,\nto night is all _I_ have!\"\n\n\"And no matter what happens, Rose,\" said Dick, as they lingered a\nmoment outside the house, \"you will trust me just the same?\"\n\n\"Of course I will,\" Rose answered readily. A question and answer\nthat have been given--and falsified--I wonder how many times\nsince the world began; falsified, for even a woman's faith is not\nwithout limit; though Rose thought it was, as many had thought\nbefore her. \"Of course I will; why should you ask, Dick?\"\n\n\"I don't know; only that everything seems whirling around with me\nto-night, and the only thing that seems clear to me is that I\nmust not lose you.\"\n\n\"It will be your own fault if you do,\" said Rose. \"But you must\nnot try me too much; for things might get whirling around with\nme, too, some day, and I should not know faith from want of\npride; so be good.\"\n\n\"And if it is possible, I must come down at once and tell you how\nit all ends. If it could only be that I could have you close at\nhand to tell you all!\"\n\n\"Indeed! I am glad,\" exclaimed Rose, who, much as she loved Dick,\ncould not endure to think of the time when she should have to\nleave her home.\n{794}\n\"Come in, now. What will Uncle Carl say to all this, I wonder?\"\n\nUncle Carl did not say much, when, the children having been sent\nout to play, the elders drew their chairs closer around the still\nstanding tea-table, and listened intently to Dick's story. The\nothers received it with many exclamations and much wiping of\neyes; but the stolid German smoked his big pipe and looked, or\ntried to, as if he had known it all before.\n\n\"I'll know before this time tomorrow if it's the same,\" said\nDick, when the reading was finished, and many conjectures had\nbeen put forward and discussed.\n\n\"It is the strangest thing ever was heard of,\" exclaimed Mrs.\nAlaine, \"that he should meet you so often and not know who you\nwere!\"\n\n\"With your mother's name, too,\" added Mrs. Staffs.\n\n\"Perhaps, after all, he is not so ignorant,\" suggested Dick. \"It\nmay be that it was on account of my name he made so much of me.\"\n\n\"I think he must be devoured with remorse,\" Mrs. Alaine said\nforcibly, \"whenever he thinks of his beautiful wife.\"\n\n\"This Mrs. Brandon couldn't hold a candle to her,\" added Mrs.\nStoffs.\n\n\"I never saw her,\" said Dick.\n\n\"She was very pretty,\" explained Carl, speaking unexpectedly.\n\n\"Pretty!\" cried Mrs. Stoffs, in great surprise.\n\n\"Pretty!\" repeated Mrs. Alaine, with great contempt.\n\n\"Pretty!\" echoed Rose, with great incredulity. \"Why, Uncle Carl,\nshe was a little doll-baby!\"\n\n\"She was very pretty,\" persisted Carl.\n\n\"Well, indeed, if you call such a baby pretty, I give up!\" said\nMrs. Stoffs. \"Why, Mr. Dick, she did not look as if she could say\nboo to a goose, and yet she ruled the whole house; it was her\nextravagance that ruined the poor man.\"\n\n\"I think it was his own dishonesty,\" said Carl.\n\n\"O Uncle Carl!\" remonstrated Rose, \"right before Mr. Richard.\"\n\n\"We don't know yet that he has anything to do with 'Mr. Richard,'\nas you call him; but I'd say it, if need were, to the man's own\nface. His wife may have been a little, tyrannical, extravagant\nfool; but the more fool he for letting her take other men's money\nout of his purse.\"\n\n\"Indeed, Carl, that's a thing they'll never say of _you_,\"\nresponded his wife, laughing. \"But now come away, and let Mr.\nDick get some rest, for I suppose he'll be off by daylight.\"\n\n\"I shall, indeed,\" said Dick.\n\n\"Well, good-night! Mr. Dick, you must not let these things keep\nyou awake; if you find your family out, it may be the last time\nyou will sleep under our roof.\"\n\n\"If I thought that, Mrs. Stoffs, I should seek them with a heavy\nheart; but nothing can make that so but death, can it?\"\n\n\"Go to bed, good people,\" grumbled Carl; \"all your noise makes my\nhead ache.\"\n\nHe went up with Dick and had a long conversation with him, after\nthe rest were asleep.\n\n\"Go find Dr. Heremore, of Wiltshire, unless there comes to be no\ndoubt that he is gone away, or dead,\" were his parting words; \"he\nis better worth seeking than any other. You will need money, and\nyou shall owe me for this.\" And he gave him a few gold pieces\nwhich Mrs. Stoffs, in the sanctuary of her own room, had\nhurriedly and gladly brought out from countless rags, all tied up\nin an old stocking, at her liege lord's command, for this\npurpose.\n\n{795}\n\n\"But, Mr. Stoffs, I have, I think, enough for this.\"\n\n\"Then do not spend mine, but take it with you for fear of\naccident. Good-night; do not be fooled by anything Mr. Brandon\nmay say--he's an artful one--but find out all you can about your\ngrandfather; remember that.\"\n\nSo Dick was left to pass a sleepless, fevered night, filled with\nthe strangest fancies, and perplexed by a thousand fruitless\nconjectures. At the first glimmering of daylight he was up, and,\nafter making a show of eating the substantial breakfast his kind\nfriends had prepared for him, turned, without being able to say\nmore than a word or two, to leave.\n\n\"Dood-by,\" said Trot, sliding down from her chair, with her bib\non, and her face not over clean, to get his parting kiss, as well\nas to put in a reminder for his return. \"What 'oo bing Trot from\nthe 'tore?\"\n\n\"What do you want, Trot?\" asked Dick, lifting her up.\n\n\"Me wants putty tat,\" she answered with animation; \"dear 'ittle\ntitten!\"\n\nDick promised to do his best, shook hands silently all around,\ntried to laugh at the old shoe Minnie had ready to throw after\nhim, at last heard the gate close behind him, and was alone on\nhis way to the little yellow station-house.\n\n\"He'd better be alone,\" Rose had said when something had been\nsaid privately about accompanying him. \"He has a great deal to\nthink about, and he can do that best while he is walking in this\nfresh morning air.\"\n\n\"O mamma!\" she said, when Mrs. Alaine stood beside her, after\nDick had passed out of sight, \"O mamma! if Mr. Brandon should\ntake it angrily!\"\n\n\"You may be sure he will not,\" replied Mrs. Alaine, \"he is so\nbroken down, he will be very thankful to find a son like our Dick\nwho will be worth so much to him. He is the most selfish man ever\nlived, Mr. Brandon is.\"\n\n\"Well, I wish it were over,\" sighed Rose, turning back to the\nhouse and the day's round of household duties.\n\n To Be Concluded.\n\n ----------\n\n{796}\n\n Translated From The French.\n\n The Approaching General Council.\n\n By Mgr. Dupanloup, Bishop Of Orleans.\n\n\nThe church and the world have been filled with expectation for\nmore than a year. When the catholic bishops were gathered at Rome\nto celebrate the eighteenth centenary of the martyrdom of St.\nPeter, and for the solemn canonization of saints, the Sovereign\nPontiff declared the necessity of a general council, and\nannounced, at the same time, his intention to convoke it at an\nearly date.\n\nThe bull of induction has already appeared. On the twenty-ninth\nday of last June, the feast of the holy apostles Peter and Paul,\nthe Holy Father, by letters addressed to all the bishops of the\nChristian world, fixed the date of the future council, and\nsummoned the Episcopate of the Catholic Church to Rome. Since\nthat time, by two truly paternal letters, the Holy Father has\ninvited the Greek Bishops, and our separated brethren of all the\nprotestant communions, to profit by the future council to\nundertake again the work of reunion, already several times\nattempted by the church, but which has always been frustrated by\nthe misfortunes and the evils of our day.\n\nSo it is no longer merely a hope. The first act necessary for the\nholding of the council is accomplished. The apostolic letters,\nknown already throughout the world and received everywhere with\njoy, even amid the infatuations and the bitter woes of the\npresent time, have stirred the hearts of the people. All look\nagain to Rome. Even her enemies are attentive as well as\nastonished, and they feel that a great event is going to happen.\nAnd truly that which is soon to come to pass at Rome, and in the\nchurch, is a rare and solemn fact, a fact of sovereign\nimportance, perhaps even the greatest event of the century. Let\nno one feel surprised at this language. I am well aware that\nevents of immense importance have marked the beginning and the\ncourse of the nineteenth century. Profound revolutions have\npassed over it, and even yesterday we have seen one of the oldest\nthrones of Europe toppling over. Enmities and wars have disturbed\nnations. The old and new world are forced to meet the same\ndifficult problems. Yet in this century there is something\nsuperior to worldly ambition and the interests of political\npassions. It is the spiritual interests of the people, and those\nsupremely important questions, whose solution brings peace to the\nsoul, and tells us of the eternal destinies of humanity. It is\nfor such purposes as these that the Catholic Church calls her\nbishops to Rome. True it is that the church appears to many men\nas being of little importance; she seems to occupy only a small\nplace in modern society, so small, indeed, that modern\npoliticians have recommended that she should no longer be taken\ninto consideration. Yet the church is, and must remain, the most\nnoble power of the world, because she is the spiritual power; and\nRome, the centre of this power--Rome which will soon see within\nher walls these great sessions of catholicity--will be always,\naccording to the words of the poet, \"the most beautiful and the\nmost holy of things beneath the sun.\"--_Rerum pulcherrima\nRoma_.\n\n{797}\n\nWhat then is the Catholic Church, and what is this council which\nis going, within a few months, to present so grand a spectacle to\nthe world? I propose to follow the example of my venerable\ncolleagues, who have, in France and in the different parts of\nChristendom, published pastoral instructions on this subject. I\nwill recall to your minds what an ecumenical council is, to\nwhich, for a long time, we have not been accustomed. I will state\nthe motives, inspired from on high, which have induced the Holy\nFather to take this step, which is the most considerable and\nextraordinary of the pontifical government. Then we shall see if\nthere is any foundation for the alarm that the announcement of\nthis act has caused among certain badly disposed or feebly\nenlightened minds: finally, I will make known what we, bishops,\npriests, and faithful, have the right to expect.\n\n\n I.\n\n The Council.\n\n\n\"God,\" says Bossuet, \"has created a work in the midst of us,\nwhich, separated from every other cause and belonging to him\nalone, fills all time and all places, and bears everywhere in the\nworld the impression of his hand, the stamp of his authority: it\nis Jesus Christ and his church.\"\n\nThere exists, then, in this world, above all human things, though\nat the same time most intimately connected with them, a spiritual\nsociety, an empire of souls. An empire of a different and divine\norder, more heavenly than worldly, and yet an empire really here\nbelow, a complete society, having, like every other society, its\norganization, its laws, its action, its life. A society not built\nup by the hand of man, but by God himself. It does not require\nthe approval of any human being; for its mission is as sacred as\nits source, and it draws from it all its essential rights. A\npilgrim in this world and a divine stranger, as Bossuet has\nsomewhere said, and yet a sovereign, the sovereign of souls,\nwhere she has an inviolable sanctuary. She does not encroach upon\nthe temporal powers, neither will she abdicate at their\nsuggestion her divine rights. She is happy to meet with their\napproval, and she does not disdain their alliance; but she knows,\nwhen it is necessary, how to do without them. She does not impede\ntheir terrestrial mission, nor will she consent that they should\ninterfere with her career. A universal society is God's church,\nwhich knows no limit of time or barrier of space; she is the\ntreasure-house of celestial goods, charged to communicate\nevangelical truth to men until the end of time; and, for this\nreason, as well as by her origin and her growth, she holds in a\nworld which she alone has civilized, a place which no other power\nwill ever fill. Yes, this marvel exists upon the earth; among all\nhuman, temporal, limited, and constantly changing governments,\nthere is this spiritual society, this government of souls,\nextending everywhere, immutable, without boundaries, and which is\ncalled the Catholic Church.\n\nIf we examine her construction more closely--and we must do this\nif we wish to understand the meaning of the most solemn of her\nacts, the Ecumenical Council--we shall see with what divine art\nJesus Christ has proportioned the means to the end.\n{798}\nIt is a part of our faith, that the Son of God has given to men,\nnot for a time but for the whole duration of time, \"for all days,\neven to the consummation of the world, \"a collection of truths,\nof commandments, and of sacred ordinances. The Christian society\nthat our Lord called his church, _ecclesiam meam_, has the\nguardianship of these divine revelations. A visible society,\nbecause religion should not be an occult thing; and perpetually\nvisible, because perpetuity has been promised to it; in short, a\nuniversal society, because all men, without exception, are called\nand admitted within her fold.\n\nBut the divine revelations could not be transmitted unaltered for\nages, if they had been subjected to changing and capricious\ninterpretations of private judgment; therefore it was\nindispensable that the doctrinal authority should be sovereign,\nthat is to say, it must be infallible. An authority cannot be\nsovereign in matters of faith, and demand an interior assent,\nwithout being infallible. This it was that the divine Founder of\nChristianity has wished to do, and really did, when, giving to\nthe apostles their mission, he pronounced these words, the last\nwhich have fallen from his lips: \"As the Father has sent me, I\nsend you. Go then and teach all nations, baptize them in the name\nof the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, and teach them\nto observe all the commandments that I have given to man: and\nbehold I am with you all days, even to the consummation of the\nworld.\" Such is, then, the essential character of the church; it\nis a doctrinal authority, providentially infallible by the divine\nassistance, in all things revealed by God.\n\nIt is easily seen how unity is born of this infallibility; not an\naccidental unity, but a necessary and permanent unity, because\nthe principle of unity is permanent in the church. The principle\nof unity, and besides this, a centre of unity, was among the\nindispensable conditions of a church thus founded. It was\nnecessary that a teaching church, spread throughout the world,\nshould have a head, a centre, a chief, in order that it might be\nunited in a single and distinctive body. Jesus Christ has not\nneglected this necessity; for among his disciples he chose one\nwhom he invested with certain special privileges, to whom he\nentrusted, according to his divine expression, \"the keys of the\nkingdom of heaven,\" whom he called the rock, the foundation-stone\nof the edifice, whom he commanded \"to confirm his brethren in the\nfaith,\" whom he called the pastor of the sheep as well as of the\nlambs, that is to say, the shepherd of the entire fold.\n\nThis is the hierarchy of the Catholic Church. In order to place a\nperpetual check upon time, which destroys all things, and in\norder to give the necessary support to the human mind, which is\never changing, it was, indeed, necessary that a religious society\nshould be thus constructed. But a divine hand was required to\nconstitute a society of this kind, which was composed of frail\nmen; and these grand characters of unity and authority, in\nperpetuity and in catholicity, are in the church as the shining\nseal of the powerful hand which has established it. Thus it\nremains firm among men, and even in spite of universal change. In\nvain is the natural restlessness of the human mind shocked at the\ndogmas of our faith, and heresies succeed to heresies; [Footnote\n283] this constant movement cannot affect her firm constitution;\nshe will remain, as says the apostle, \"the pillar and ground of\ntruth\"--_Columna et firmamentum Veritatis_.\n\n [Footnote 283: \"It is necessary that heresies should be.\"\n Corinth, xi. 19. Terrible necessity, says Bossuet.]\n\n{799}\n\nSuch is the Catholic Church. An ecumenical council is this\nCatholic Church assembled to do, with more solemnity, the same\nwork which, dispersed, she does every day. This work is the\ntransmission and authentic interpretation of the dogmatic and\nmoral truths of divine revelation. This is what I desire to\nexplain at this time, so that it may be clearly understood by our\ncontemporaries, who have long been unaccustomed to these things.\nMy design is not, indeed, as you know, an intention to write so\nexhaustively that no one else may treat upon the questions\nconnected with the councils of the church. Volumes have and could\nagain be written on this subject. But at least there are some\nnecessary notions which require to be explained with precision,\nsince these matters are not familiar at this day, and also\nbecause, as on every other topic, the simple and fundamental\nideas are always the most useful.\n\nA council is an assemblage of bishops convoked for the purpose of\ndiscussing questions concerning the faith, morals, and\ndiscipline. A council is particular or general; particular, if it\nrepresents only a part of the church; general or ecumenical, when\nit represents the universal church. A general council, simply\nbecause it represents the whole church, has the gift of doctrinal\ninfallibility and supreme authority given by Jesus Christ to the\nchurch herself, to the body of pastors united to their chief. A\nparticular council has no infallibility.\n\nThe supreme chief of the church, the Pope, and he only, has the\nright of convoking general councils. For the same reason, the\nPope alone has the right of presiding over their deliberations.\nAnd as a question of fact, it is true that popes, either\npersonally or by legates, have presided over every ecumenical\ncouncil. Thus at Nice, Constantinople, Ephesus, Chalcedon, as\nwell as at Trent, the popes presided by legates. At the councils\nof Lateran, Lyons, Vienna, and Florence, they presided\npersonally. \"Holy Father,\" wrote the fathers of Chalcedon to Pope\nSt. Leo, \"you will preside in the midst of the bishops, who are\njudges of the faith, as the chief over the members in the persons\nof those who hold your place.\" It is the sovereign pontiff's duty\nto close the council, to dissolve it in case of necessity, and to\nconfirm its decrees. The accord of the bishops and the Pope is\nmanifestly necessary for the ecumenical character of a council.\n\nGathered in council from all quarters of the world, and having\nthe Pope at their head, as witnesses of the faith of their\nchurches, as judges of the divine law, \"_Episcopis\njudicibus_\" said the fathers of Chalcedon. \"_Defining I have\nsubscribed_,\" \"_I have subscribed pronouncing with the holy\nsynod_;\" [Footnote 284] thus it was that the bishops of\nChalcedon and Ephesus, and also of Trent, affixed their\nsignatures.\n\n [Footnote 284: \"_Definiens subscripsi_:\"\n \"_Subscripsi pronuntians cum sancta synodo_.\"]\n\nCustom governs the exterior forms used in these assemblies. The\nsolemn sessions, where the decrees are promulgated, are\ndistinguished from the congregations where they are elaborated;\nwith what care, what exactness, what profound research, the\nhistory of the Council of Trent has already shown, and the coming\nCouncil of Rome will give us a no less remarkable proof. The Holy\nFather, indeed, ever since he took the great resolution of\nconvoking a council, has been occupied with activity proportioned\nto the importance of the future assembly. He has used such means\nas were proper for the head of the church in an ecumenical\ncouncil.\n{800}\nSeveral commissions or congregations, composed of learned\ncardinals, and of theologians chosen from different nations, were\nat once appointed by him, and are now zealously working upon the\nquestions which will be considered in the council. There is a\nspecial congregation upon Dogma, one upon Canon Law, one to\nconsider the various questions concerning Religious Orders, one\nto discuss the relations of Church and State, and one upon the\nchurches of the East.\n\nIt is the usage of the church, when the Pope intends to convene\nan ecumenical council, to notify in advance the bishops who bring\nthere not only the authority of their sacred character, but also\nthe counsels of their experience, because their dispersion in\nmany different countries has given them great knowledge and a\nspecial competency to understand the times and the needs of their\npeople. Thus Pius IX., in two allocutions, addressed to the\nbishops assembled at Rome, announced to them the future council.\nBy his last Bull, he has called them all there and fixed the\nprecise date, so that the prelates, notified and convoked in\nadvance, may have the time to study the questions at their\nleisure, and arrive perfectly prepared at the date indicated by\nthe Sovereign Pontiff.\n\nI do not need to add that, although the Pope and bishops can add\ndisciplinary laws, and modify, more or less, the canon law,\nbecause these are not by their nature immutable, that in matters\nof faith, it is not the business of councils to make dogmas.\nDogmas are never made in councils, but they may be formulated\nthere. All that concerns dogma is learned from the holy\nScriptures and tradition, and from their authorized interpreters.\nIt is only after these have been thoroughly investigated and\ndiscussed, and after the invocation of the Holy Ghost, that the\ncouncil declares what has always been, what is now, the belief of\nthe church.\n\nHistory counts eighteen ecumenical councils. [Footnote 285]\n\n [Footnote 285: The following is a list of these eighteen\n ecumenical councils:\n 1. Nice, in 325, against Arius, who denied the divinity of\n the Word.\n 2. Constantinople, in 381, against Macedonius, who attacked\n the divinity of the Holy Ghost.\n 3. Ephesus, in 431, against Nestorius, who erred concerning\n the Incarnation, and refused to give the Blessed Virgin the\n title Mother of God.\n 4. Chalcedon, in 451, against Eutyches, who originated an\n error, the opposite of that of Nestorius.\n 5. Constantinople, in 553, against the three celebrated\n chapters which fostered the error of Nestorius on the\n Incarnation.\n 6. Constantinople in 680, against the Monothelites, who\n continued the error of Eutyches, in denying that Jesus Christ\n had a human will.\n 7. Nice, in 787, against the Iconoclasts, or breakers of\n images.\n 8. Constantinople, in 869, against Photius, the author of the\n Greek schism.\n 9. Lateran, in 1123, or the promulgation of peace between the\n ecclesiastical power and the empire, after the long quarrels\n of the Investitures, and also for the Crusades.\n 10. Lateran, in 1139, for the reunion of the Greeks and\n against the errors of the Albigenses.\n 11. Lateran, in 1179, for different questions of discipline,\n and against the heresies of the day.\n 12. Lateran, in 1215, against the Vaudois.\n 13. Lyons, in 1245, for the Crusade and the troubles with the\n Emperor Frederic.\n 14. Lyons, in 1274, for the Crusade, and for reunion with the\n Greeks.\n 15. Vienne, in 1311, for the Crusade, and different questions\n of discipline, and for the affair of the Templars.\n 16. Florence, in 1439, for reunion with the Greeks.\n 17. Lateran, in 1511, against the conventicle of Pisa.\n 18. Trent, in 1545, against Protestantism.\n Several sessions of the Council of Constance have also been\n considered ecumenical.]\n\n{801}\n\nIt would be difficult to determine the almost infinite number of\nparticular councils. Nothing can show more clearly than do these\nassemblies the wonderful vitality of the church, and the power\nshe bears within herself to protect her own existence both\nagainst the errors which the human mind is ever producing, and\nalso against corruption and abuses within the church, abuses\nwhich are unavoidable because of the infirmity of human nature.\nShe is the only society upon the earth where revolutions are not\nnecessary, and where reform is always possible. There is not one\nof these many councils but which has a regulation upon discipline\nat the same time that it has a definition of faith; and the great\nCouncil of Trent itself, without fearing that word, reform, which\nhad revolutionized Europe, accepted it, because it belonged to\nthe church, and accompanied its dogmatic decrees concerning the\nCatholic faith with decrees concerning reformation--_De\nReformatione_. Assembled in ecumenical council the Pope and\nbishops thoroughly investigate the situation of affairs in the\nChristian republic, and use fearlessly the remedy for its wounds\nand its sufferings. Thus the immortal youth of the church is\nrenewed, a more active and vigorous breath of life animates this\nimmense body, and even society feels its happy influence. It is,\nthen, one of these ecumenical assemblies which the Pope has just\nconvoked. After long meditation upon the needs of the time, and\nearnest prayer for God's guidance, the head of the Catholic\nChurch has spoken a single word. He has made a solemn sign, and\nit is sufficient. From the west and east, from the north and\nsouth, from every part of the habitable globe, from every race,\nfrom every tongue, from every nation, the chiefs of this great\nspiritual society, the dispersed members of this government of\nsouls, leave their sees to meet at the place appointed by the\nSovereign Pontiff. They meet, not as in human congresses, to\ndebate concerning peace and war, conquests and frontiers, but to\ntreat of souls and their sacred interests, of things spiritual\nand eternal. They obey the divine words of Him who founded the\nchurch, \"_Go, therefore, and teach all nations_.\" They meet\nto accomplish the most august duty of their sovereign mission--to\nproclaim, in a general council of the church, and, as it were, in\nthe very face of human errors, those truths whose guardianship\nhas been confided to them by Him who is the Truth itself. Such is\nthe work of an ecumenical council. Can there in this world be a\ngreater one?\n\nIt is now three hundred years since the world has seen one of\nthese assemblies; even at the beginning of this century they were\nconsidered impossible. \"In modern times,\" wrote J. de Maistre,\nless than fifty years ago, \"since the civilized world is, so to\nspeak, cut up into some sovereignties, and the world has been so\nmuch enlarged by the boldness of our sailors, an ecumenical\ncouncil has become a chimera.\"\n\nThe political difficulties which so provokingly impeded the\nCouncil of Trent were remembered, and it seemed that the present\ntime was yet more unfavorable. It was thought that the modern\npowers were more defiant and more hostile, and consequently that\nthe liberty of the church was in greater danger, her action more\ncircumscribed than ever. But we wronged our century, and instead\nof coming before God with complaints, we shall do better to adore\nhis powerful hand, which, as an ancient proverb goes, \"can write\nstraightly on crooked lines,\" and force events to bend\nthemselves, in spite of man's efforts, to his eternal designs. A\nmissionary and a traveller, the church longs to see the road\ndiminish. A preacher and a liberator, she profits and rejoices\nover the destruction of fetters. Then our age has accomplished\nthese two works, the suppression of distance, the breaking down\nof barriers. I understand the words distance and barriers in the\nsocial and political sense, as well as in a material point of\nview. It was thought that they would serve only the world's\ninterests, but they are really allies of the faith; all this\nmarvellous movement, which seemed to be contrary to catholic\nideas and opposed to the Catholic Church, will turn to her\nadvantage.\n{802}\nThe spirit of the age obliges political governments, whether they\nbe willing or not, to act more fairly toward the church, and it\nhas destroyed the old prejudices which even recently have\nhindered her actions. The holding of an ecumenical council is\neasier to-day than it would have been in the times of Philip II.,\nLouis XIV., or of Joseph II.\n\n\"For the convocations of the bishops alone,\" says again J. de.\nMaistre, \"and to establish legally this convocation, five or six\nyears would not be sufficient.\" To-day it has been enough for\nPius IX. to post his bull upon the walls of the Lateran; modern\npublicity, in spite of many wishes to the contrary, carries it to\nthe extremities of the earth. Soon, thanks to the marvellous\nprogress of the sciences and mechanics, the bishops will hasten\nto obey the Pontiff's summons on the wings which steam has given\nto our vessels and our cars. These have, as it were, consumed\nspace. The bishops will come from every free country, and, as we\nhope, even from those which are not free. And thus--for I like to\nrepeat it--this double current of the ideas and of the industry\nof our time is going, in the future, not to serve the material\nlife of man alone, but also to aid us in the government of souls,\nin the highest manifestation of the spiritual life of man, in the\ngreatest work of God's Holy Spirit upon the earth. It is just, as\ndivine Providence has so willed, that we should see in this the\nsecret harmony hidden in the depths of things and in the unity of\ndivine works. Matter is placed once more at the service of the\nspiritual, and the thoughts of man follow the order of God's\ncounsels.\n\nThree times already, as you are aware, the bishops have gathered\nabout the vicar of Jesus Christ within a few years; but none of\nthese three great reunions had the character of a council. The\nglory of resuming the ancient traditions of the church, so long\ninterrupted, by the convention of a true ecumenical assembly, has\nbeen reserved to this magnanimous Pontiff, so powerful in his\nmildness, so calm amid his trials, and so confident in that God\nwho has sustained him and who has manifestly inspired him to\nundertake the work of summoning the ecumenical council.\n\n\n II.\n\n The Programme Of The Council.\n\n\nAnd why, with what thoughts, has the head of the church called to\nthis great tribunal of catholicity those whom he names as being\n\"his venerable brothers, the bishops of the catholic world, whose\nsacred character has called them to partake in his solicitudes?\n\"_Omnes venerabiles fratres totius catholici orbis sacrorum\nantistites, qui in solicitudinis nostrae partem vocati sunt_.\"\nThe apostolical letters inform us clearly. It is necessary to\nread them and to judge the church with equity by her own\nstatement, not by rancorous or frivolous commentaries. The\nprogramme of the future council is thus traced in the bull of the\nSovereign Pontiff:\n\n \"This ecumenical council will have to examine with the greatest\n care, and determine what is best to do in times so difficult\n and so perverse as these, for the greater glory of God, for the\n integrity of the faith, for the honor of divine worship, for\n the eternal salvation of men, for the discipline of the regular\n and secular clergy, for their useful and solid instruction, for\n the observance of ecclesiastical laws, for the reformation of\n customs, for the Christian education of youth, for general\n peace and universal concord.\"\n\n{803}\n\n \"It is necessary for us to use every exertion that, by God's\n help, we may separate every evil from the church and from\n society; to lead back into the straight way of truth, justice,\n and salvation, those unfortunate people who have wandered from\n it; to repress vice and refute error, so that our august\n religion and its salutary doctrine may acquire a new vigor\n throughout the world, that it may be extended further every\n day, that it regain its empire, and thus that piety, honesty,\n justice, charity, and all Christian virtues maybe strengthened\n and flourish for the greatest good of humanity.\"\n\nThe entire programme, all the work of the future council, is in\nthese words. There are, then, two great objects, the good of the\nchurch and the good of human society. This is its object and its\nonly object.\n\nBut especially does the church assemble her bishops that her\ninterior life may be reanimated, and, as the apostle says, \"To\nstir up the grace of God which is within us.\" The reason of this\nis because the church has the wonderful privilege that I have\nalready mentioned--she is the only body which possesses the power\nof perpetually renewing her youth in the course of a perpetual\nlife. It is in virtue of this divine constitution that none of\nthe truths which she has preserved can change, can be lost, can\nbe increased--that not even a syllable can be altered or an iota\ndestroyed! \"One jot or one tittle of the law shall not pass away\nuntil all be fulfilled,\" said Jesus Christ. The church is a\nliving institution composed of men, borrowing its head and its\nmembers from every nation and from all ranks, always open to\nreceive those who wish to come to her, and unceasingly increased\nby the addition of new races of men among her children. A river\nwhich has received many streams into its current reflects the\nobjects along its banks and adapts its course to the climate, and\nto the country with its irregularities; so the Catholic Church\nhas the gift of accommodating herself to the times, to the\ninstitutions, and to the requirements of the generations through\nwhich she passes and the centuries which she civilizes.\n\nAnd more than this is true, because in the world she labors\nperpetually in order that she may ever become more worthy to\nspeak of God to men, and in a way to be heard and understood by\nthem. She is continually examining, with respect, and at the same\ntime with sovereign authority, her disciplinary books, her laws,\nher institutions, her works, and especially her members,\ndistributed in the different grades of the hierarchy. Indeed, we\ndo not believe that we are without faults or blemishes. \"Ah!\nshould we be astonished,\" F\u00e9n\u00e9lon used to say, \"to find in man\nthe relics of humanity!\" But, eternal thanks be given to God, we\nfind in the imperishable treasury of truth, and of the divine\nlaws which we are called to guard, the means of recognizing our\nfaults and reforming our manners.\n\nThus it is especially against ourselves, or rather for ourselves,\nthat this council is going to assemble. There will not be one\namong us to take his seat in this august assembly, who has not in\nthe early morning bent his knee upon the lowest step of the\naltar, bowed his head, struck his breast, and said, \"If God is\nnot better known, if he is not better served than by me, if the\ntruth suffers violence, if the poor are not assisted, if justice\nis in peril, O God! it is my fault, it is my fault, it is my most\ngrievous fault!\" Monarchs of the earth, who settle the fate of\nnations with such a frightful boldness, an examination like this\nwould be good even for you, if you could only endure it!\n{804}\nO human assemblies, parliaments, tribunals, popular conventions,\ndo you think that this rigid self-examination, these confessions,\nthese scruples, and these courageous habits of discipline and\nreform, will be useless in appeasing blind agitation and arrogant\npassion, or in rousing up sleepy routine?\n\nWhen each of us has thus examined, questioned, and accused\nhimself, we shall ask ourselves, What are the obstacles which\nto-day prevent the propagation of the faith among those who have\nnot yet received it, and its reestablishment among those who have\nlost it? We shall revise regulations, we shall reform abuses, we\nshall reestablish forgotten laws, we shall modify whatever\nrequires modification. Under the supreme authority of a common\nfather, of the bishop of bishops, the experience of old men, the\nzeal of the young, the inspiration of the holy and the wisdom of\nthe wise, will all concur in declaring the present condition of\nthe church, its mission upon the earth, and its duties in the\nfuture. This examination will be made in the most unconstrained\nand fraternal discussion, which will soon be followed by solid\nresolutions, which will become, then, and for centuries, the rule\nof the church's life.\n\nSuch will be the first object of the assembly of bishops. An\nobject at once sublime and humble, one which fills the children\nof the church with respectful admiration, and which strikes her\nenemies with an astonishment that they seek in vain to disguise.\nYes, our ministry is so noble, our assemblies so elevated above\nother assemblies, that the language of man contains the\ninvoluntary admission of its superiority. If they desire to\ndesignate a noble office, a superior mission, they call it, often\neven with exaggeration, a _priesthood_. If they wish to\nspeak of some unusually imposing and solemn gathering, which will\nhave a place in history, they say it was a _council_ of\nkings or legislators. Human language has no more lofty words than\nthese: not that we should pride ourselves upon them, for our\nhands have not done these things. They come from God, and the\ndignity of the words which express them recalls to our humility\nat once the majesty of our vocation and the formidable extent of\nour duties.\n\nBut what is the cause, in our day and at this hour, of the\nretreat of the entire catholic episcopate into the breast of a\nnew cenacle? If I may presume to put it thus, what does this\nvigil of arms mean? [Footnote 286] Why these preparations, this\nwork of a great council? Why has the Sovereign Pontiff, under the\neye of God, and from his inspiration, judged it proper to call\nthe church together in this second half of the nineteenth\ncentury?\n\n [Footnote 286: The Bishop of Orleans is here referring to the\n pious custom of the days of chivalry, which compelled the\n knight who was to receive his armor for the first time on the\n following morning to pass the vigil watching in the chapel,\n where his future arms were placed upon the altar.]\n\nIt was said of our Master, the divine Saviour of the world, that\n\"he was wounded because of our iniquities.\" Yes, it is for the\niniquities of man, and for our own, that we are going to impose\nsuch a work upon ourselves. The more dangerous the times are, the\nmore necessary is it for us to be pure enough to withstand the\nmost formidable conflict, wise enough to enter into the most\nstirring discussions, prepared to engage in the rudest conflicts.\nAnd if men ask why we are striving to increase knowledge and\ncharity among ourselves, we will answer that, not forgetting\nourselves and our own needs, we are doing it also on their\naccount, looking earnestly upon their condition, their\naspirations, and their sufferings, and with a hearty desire to do\nthem more good.\n\n{805}\n\n III.\n\n Causes Of The Council.\n\n\nWhat is the condition, then, to-day, of the souls and the state\nof the races which are spread over the surface of the earth?\nThere are few who have not been interested in this question. The\nPope, looking upon the world and lending his ear to the sound of\nthe struggles of contemporary society, could not help seeing,\nwhat every one knows, that now is a time of profound crisis; or,\nas it is expressed in the papal bull, there are torments which\nare afflicting at this time both church and society: \"_Jam vero\nomnibus compertum exploratumque est qua horribili tempestate mine\njactetur ecclesia, et quibus quantisque malis ipsa affligatur\nsocietas_.\" What is this crisis of the church and the world?\nIf we collect in our mind the course of history and the vast\nocean of ages on which we are borne for a moment, only to be\nswallowed up in our turn, you will first answer that this crisis\nis only an incident of a perpetual crisis, an interrupted scene\nof the drama which the destiny of the human race is composing.\nUntried travellers are ever thinking the voyage a long one, and\nthat the sea has dashing waves and tempests only for them. Old\nsailors know that the ocean is always uncertain and that the\nstorm of to-day has been preceded by many a severe gale.\n\nBut if we are just, as well as attentive, we shall recognize that\nthe crisis of the present time is not a chance one, and that,\nlike others which have gone before, it will not escape the\nguidance of God. I say even, when I remember the profound designs\nof providence, that this crisis is not without its grandeur, that\nit has both beauty, laws, and an end, just as do those natural\nphenomena which appear the most confused and disordered. Through\ncontinual struggles and obstacles, the evangelical ideal is\nfollowed by the church, who knows where she is going, and by men,\noften without their knowledge. The church, since her mission is\nto raise souls to that standard, is sorrowful here below, because\nthat ideal is never realized perfectly enough for the glory and\nhappiness of humanity. Undoubtedly the industry, the science, and\nthe courage which men display to-day should be admitted. Within a\nfew hundred years, vast treasures of science, wealth, and power\nhave been developed. In two worlds, a most wonderful harvest of\ngifted men have appeared; artists and orators, _savants_ and\ngenerals, legislators and publicists, whose names will be\nrecognized by posterity with well-merited gratitude. Yet after we\nhave been just toward the good, let us be just to the evil, and\nacknowledge, with the august and truthful Pius IX., that human\nsociety is at this moment profoundly troubled.\n\nBut do not think that I intend to speak of political trouble and\nof war. I know that Europe has, within a few years, resounded\nmore than once with the shock of battles, and that at the present\nmoment many feel a dull restlessness. The people are arming and\npreparing, it is said, for gigantic struggles. Does the Sovereign\nPontiff wish to speak of the mighty interests of political\naffairs, of questions of nationalities, of the frontiers of\nkingdoms, and of the balance of power? The church is not indeed\nindifferent to peace or war between nations, for every day her\nprayers ascend to heaven for concord between Christian peoples\nand Christian princes.\n{806}\nBut yet, as I have already stated, she does not gather her\ncouncil to solve these questions; the pacific assembly at Rome\nwill meditate neither revolutions nor conquests, neither leagues\nof sovereigns nor treaties of nations, neither the establishment\nof dynasties nor their downfall.\n\nWhile all Europe--and, if we look further, while the new world as\nwell, as the old--is trembling at the threatening signs of war\nand revolution, at Rome, that august centre, that reserved place,\ngathered about the successor of St. Peter, around the chair of\ntruth, the pastors of nations--their feet, it is true, upon the\nearth and on the immovable rock, but their eyes turned toward\nheaven--will be occupied with souls, the needs of souls the\neternal salvation of souls; in one word, with the highest and\npermanent interests of humanity.\n\nAnd surely they will do well; for, who can disguise it? are not\nsouls in peril and the faith of whole nations menaced?\n\nDo you ask, what new heresy has arisen? From the bosom of the\nchurch, none; the clergy have never been more closely united in\nthe faith from one end of the world to the other. Without the\npale of the church the same attacks, a hundred times repelled and\na hundred times renewed, are levelled against all the points of\nChristian doctrine, but under new forms and a fresh vigor. Yet\nthere is more than this. With an impiety which outstrips even the\neighteenth century, the natural truths, those first principles on\nwhich every thing here reposes as its safeguard, even the natural\ntruths, are denied or boldly discussed. Science is also to have\nits heresies. There is a schism among the philosophers. Reason\nhas to take its turn in assaults which seemed reserved for the\nfaith. Strange thing! Faith to-day is guarding the treasures of\nreason, and serves as their rampart! To-day it is you, O savants,\nO philosophers, who have need for us! You have often accused us\nof having neither science nor intelligence; but you, my poor\nbrethren, who are so wise and so intelligent, have scarcely been\nable to defend a single well-known truth! And you, O Protestants!\nwho expected to reform the church of God, it is you who to-day\nneed reforming; it is you who feel most keenly how great an\ninjury is the loss of the blessing of authority!\n\nLook for a moment at the state of the intelligent minds of our\nday. Where have discordant philosophies led them? For three\ncenturies, in Germany, impetuous minds have risen who, rejecting\nthe guiding rein of faith, have shown to the astonished world the\naudacity, and at the same time the feebleness, of reason. This\ntoo has quickly been followed by like audacity and feebleness of\nmorals. What has come from the prodigious efforts of talent and\nerudition? Nothing more admirable than the resurrection of every\nerror of pagan times--pantheism, atheism, scepticism--and among\nthose who yet cling to some form of religion, Christianity has in\nreality perished because of their many contradictory and\nridiculous explanations of its doctrines. Thus have ended, under\nour own eyes, eighteen centuries after Jesus Christ, all these\nwonderful intellectual labors which are the greatest that the\nworld has ever witnessed.\n\nAnd what is the state, to-day, of France? Religious belief is\nvigorously attacked and even philosophical faith seems ready to\ndisappear. The truths of reason are overthrown, and a pretended\nscience, intoxicated with itself, denies human reason, and\nwishes, in the name of atheism and materialism, to snatch from\nman his belief in the immortality of the soul and his faith in\nGod.\n{807}\nThe most dangerous doctrines concerning morals, society, the\nsoul, the family, a future life, and God, are warmly defended by\nmeans of journals, pamphlets, and even novels. Our contemporaries\nare either wrecked on this sea of errors, or float, without a\nhelm or a compass, at the mercy of every wind of doubt. Dark\nstorms are rising in human souls, and they penetrate the very\ndepths of the masses of the people.\n\nAt the same time, there are many misunderstandings in regard to\nthe church, and consequently there is an animated attack upon her\ndoctrines. When the revolution, which is now making a tour\nthrough Europe and the rest of the world, appeared in France, the\nchurch was attached by bonds, which time had forged, to the old\npolitical order. She was carried with that political system into\nthe struggle. Hence it comes that men have not been able to\ndistinguish that which belongs to a legitimate state of society,\nwithout being at all necessary to the church, and that which\nconstitutes the essential principles and immutable spirit of\nChristianity.\n\nWith certain men there is only one feeling toward the\nchurch--that of blind and implacable hatred. Forgetting eighteen\ncenturies of benefits, they continue to wage an ungrateful war.\nThe waves of revolution sweep in their course both truth and\nfalsehood, virtue and crime, benefits and injuries, and the\nchurch, because she can make no compromise with error and vice,\nmust persist in pointing out the illusion of deceitful words and\nthe danger of false doctrines. Many stubbornly charge the church\nwith thoughts and doctrines which are not hers. An infidel press\nand unscrupulous blasphemy against the church strive to separate\nthe people from her fold. We hear, both in disorderly conventions\nand in the writings of those journalists who convene them, the\nmost stupid and reckless assertions against the church mingling\nwith threats of social war. And even in our legislative\nassemblies this unreasonable enmity appears, demanding a violent\nseparation of the church and society.\n\nAnd lately, when the voice of the Sovereign Pontiff was raised to\ndescribe the overflow of those impious and immoral theories which\nnow inundate us, how many complaints, how many unmerited\naccusations were everywhere made! Without caring to understand\nhis meaning, the Holy Father was calumniated. And with grief we\nsaw statesmen, under the influence of violent passion and without\nasking or writing for any explanation, hasten to proclaim an\nantagonism which, thank God, does not exist.\n\nThese hostilities against the church, while separating from her\nthe people who are deluded, render the peril in which these\ncontemporary errors would drag us far more formidable. Doctrines\nare not inoffensive; M. De Bonald promulgated a law of history\nwhich is confirmed by constant experience, when he wrote these\nforcible words: \"There are always great disorders where there are\ngreat errors, and great errors where there are great disorders.\"\nIt is thought that brings forth facts; storms come from above.\n\nAnd I say to men of good faith, you expected to establish the\ngovernment of people and the conduct of life on reason alone.\nThis experiment has been tried for three quarters of a century in\nFrance; what is the result? Are the morals of our people better?\nIs the civil authority respected?\n{808}\nIs liberty well established? Has war disappeared? Or misery? Or\nignorance? And what can be said of those questions which reason\nasks with a rare fertility of invention, but which she cannot\nanswer, and which concern the very organization of\nsociety--questions about labor, wages, and workmen? I do not\nexaggerate when I assert that since reason has pretended to reign\nalone, she reigns, like the night star, over shadows which she\ncannot dissipate. Even in the most civilized countries, the earth\nhas become an abode of anxiety, distress, strife, and terror. The\nnineteenth century will soon close, agitated, weary, barren, and\nincontestably diseased. Rash indeed would be the one who would\nventure to predict that it would close in glory and not in\nperdition.\n\n\n IV.\n\n Review Of The Past\n\n\nHowever, I beseech my friends and brethren in the faith not to\nexaggerate anything. It is permitted to be sad, I repeat, when we\nconsider the present times; and I should feel bound to consider\nthe soul which is not saddened by these things as possessing very\nlittle true nobility. The sons of the nineteenth century, the men\nof my day, have had many enchanting dreams; we have nourished\nmany generous hopes; but now we are going to die, and to die\ndeluded. But what! is our short life the whole of history? We did\nnot live in the sixteenth century; we shall not see the\ntwentieth; but the church lived yesterday, and she will live\nto-morrow. If I should say what she hopes, all my prophecies\nwould not be forebodings; and if I should question her memory,\nthe present times would appear all the brighter by being compared\nwith the past. If we glance at ages which are no more, shall we\nfind many centuries which did not have their troubles and their\ndangers? Ah! the discouragement of certain Catholics calls to\nmind the sentence of one of the sapiential books: \"Say not: what\nthinkest thou is the cause that former times were better than\nthey are now? for this manner of question is foolish.\" [Footnote\n287] I was reading a few days since some of the bulls of\nconvocation of the ancient councils of the middle ages. The\nlamentation of those popes of the misfortunes of their time far\nexceeds anything which is heard to-day. And, not to go further\nback than the Council of Trent, let the church tell us of those\ntimes, for she was present to them. What did she see then?\n\n [Footnote 287: Eccles. vii. 11.]\n\nThat century was much like ours, because of its great\ndiscoveries, its appreciation of learning, and its revival of the\narts; it was like the present century, also, in the bad use it\nmade of these gifts. The sixteenth century peopled America, which\nhad been only recently discovered; abandoned itself to cruel\nexcesses of crime and avarice there, and introduced the disgrace\nof human slavery. It received treasures from that country, and it\nused them for the corruption of the morals of Europe. Whether we\nlook upon the thrones, or among the masses of the people, or even\nin the church herself, we find many a sad spectacle. This century\nwas the witness of the crimes of Henry VIII.; Elizabeth; Ivan the\nTerrible; Christian II.; the Medici; Charles IX.; and Henry III.\nThis century saw the pillaging of Rome and the siege of Paris.\n{809}\nThis century saw the pretended reformation rend the church,\ndisturb the peace of all Europe, and divide Christians into two\nparts. If one desires to find out the evils which existed in the\nchurch and in society in those days, let him read the lives of\ngreat and holy people of that time; let him read of Bartholomew,\nof the Martyrs St. Charles Borromeo and St. Francis of Sales. I\nhave already mentioned the papal bulls of the middle ages; but\nread those of the pontiffs who convoked the Council of Trent, and\nit will be soon seen that Adrian VI., Paul III., Pius IV., were\nthen more alarmed at the dangers of the Christian republic than\nPius IX. now is. There was tepidity, disorder, and scandal; the\nclergy poorly organized; the religious orders much relaxed; and\nthen, too, princes were divided, the people oppressed, and war a\ndaily occurrence in every country. And the council which had\nassembled amid such sad circumstances was compelled to meet in a\nlittle village hidden in the mountains of Tyrol, and or six years\nit was at the mercy of temporal princes to suspend or to allow it\nto proceed; and thus it was compelled to endure a perpetual\nconflict.\n\nBut vain are obstacles to God's church! Her virtue will triumph\nover everything. What great works and great men came forth from\nthis council and from the regenerating breath that it breathed\nover Christian society! St. Charles Borromeo, St. Philip Neri,\nSt. Peter of Alcantara, St. Theresa, St. John of the Cross, St.\nFrancis of Sales, St. Jane of Chautal, St. Vincent de Paul, St.\nFrancis Borgia, and St. Francis Regis, heirs of the spirit of St.\nIgnatius and St. Francis Xavier. Then closely following these\ncanonized saints were such apostolic men as the B. Peter\nFourrier, Cardinal Berulle, M. Olier, M. Eucles, M. Bourdoise,\nthe Abb\u00e9 of Rauc\u00e9, and many others. Then too came many\ncongregations, which were fruitful in showing again the true\nstandard of clerical and religious life, and in reanimating\neverywhere the love of study, regularity, and charity. Such was\nthe universal improvement which the church displayed. This was\nfollowed by F\u00e9n\u00e9lon and Bossuet and the majestic unity of the\nseventeenth century. And notwithstanding all the misfortunes that\nthis immortal Mother of men has had to overcome, the church has\nnow places of worship in Jerusalem, liberty in Pekin and\nConstantinople, the episcopal hierarchy in England and Holland,\nher councils in Baltimore, and her missionaries in Africa,\nOceanica, and Japan. The church rejoices from the very depths of\nher soul to see that, although religion has got much to wish for\nand much to deplore, still in every part of the world the laws\nare now more equitable, the powerful are less oppressive, the\nweak are better protected, the poor more generously assisted, and\nslaves are declared free. But when the church turns to that\npretended reform which so audaciously rose up against the spouse\nof Christ in the sixteenth century, she finds that its doctrines\nhave almost vanished; it has run its course and exhausted its\narms. How different is the present condition of the Holy Church!\nThat church, whose abuses were so fearful that they could no\nlonger be endured, to-day presents a Pope whose eminent virtue\ncompels respect; her bishops are more numerous and zealous; her\npriests faithful, united, devoted; her religious orders, tempered\nby the fire of persecution and poverty, are learned and\nexemplary.\n{810}\nAnd when this church desires to assemble a council, it is to Rome\nshe bids her children come, by the reliable roads, the rapid\ncarriages and the facilities of every kind which she owes to the\ngenius, the justice, and the resources of modern times.\n\nIt is well enough known that I am not among those who close their\neyes and preserve silence in regard to the evils of the day and\nthe many perils which lie in the way of souls. But neither do I\nwish to be ungrateful for the benefits of God, or to refuse to\nsee the power which lends its strength to the church, and the\nhelp which he gives to the good cause, even in the worst times.\nNor should it be forgotten that man's duty is to struggle for\ntruth, and that each century has its task and its difficulty. I\npity, I do not execrate, the present time. I do not despair of\nthe people, and I do not anathematize their rulers. They are not\nomnipotent, and they have to contend with many difficulties. I\npray for them, as the Catholic Church has always done; I caution\nthem, both princes and people, as much as lies within my power,\nand I ask a loyal and sincere concurrence to the great work of\nthe church, which is the sanctification and civilization of the\nworld.\n\nThere are three things which should cause us all the keenest\nanxiety; these are, the destruction of faith, which has been\nhastened by the impious direction which scientific and\nphilosophical studies have taken; the prevailing laxity of\nmorals, which may fairly be attributed to the thousand new and\nseductive forms of vice; and lastly, the unjust statements which\nthe enemies of religion delight in perpetuating between the\nchurch and the masses of the people. These are three diseases\nwhich, by God's grace, will be cured.\n\nThere are certain persons in whose eyes these three scourges are\nonly the partial results of that which is now, and has always\nbeen, the greatest of all scourges, namely, revolution. I do not\nlike to use this vague and indefinite word which, like a spectre,\nappears and grows formidable at one's will; but yet it is very\ntrue that these evils do foster in the bosom of society a\ndivision of mind, a scorn of God and of all authority, a pride\nand a hatred, which are continually threatening these societies\nwith a return to revolutions.\n\n ----------\n\n{811}\n\n\n Catholicity And Pantheism.\n\n Number Five.\n\n Laws According To Which The Mystery Of\n The Trinity Should Be Understood.\n\n\nWe proceed, in this article, to lay down some general laws which\ngovern, so to speak, the organism of the life of the infinite.\nThe ignorance or the overlooking of these laws has ever caused\nthose who plunged into the abyss of infinite life to search its\ngenesis, to fall into one form or other of pantheism, as will be\nseen in the course of this article.\n\nThe first and principal law may be enunciated as follows: _No\nother distinction can be predicated of the infinite, but that\narising from the relative opposition of origin between the\nterms._ [Footnote 288]\n\n [Footnote 288: Realis distinctio inter relationes divinas non\n est nisi ratione oppositionis relativae.\n S. Th., S. T.; qu. 30, art. ad.]\n\nWe have already demonstrated that the life of the infinite is\nterminated by three distinct personalities, which establish a\nmultiplicity in its bosom. A distinction, therefore, _must_\nbe predicated of the infinite. But of what sort?\n\nThis distinction, in the first place, could not fall upon the\nessence, without breaking its absolute simplicity. It must,\nconsequently, be found among the terminations of the essence, or\npersonalities. But, again, these three persons being possessed of\nthe same identical essence, and thus participating in all its\nperfections, how can they be distinguished, one from the other?\nBy a real opposition of origin. One person originates; the other\nis originated; as principle and term they are necessarily opposed\nto each other, and consequently distinct.\n\nThis law maintains both the unity and the multiplicity in the\ninfinite. It maintains the unity; for the law does not require\nany real distinction between the persons and the essence, but\nonly a distinction made by our reason to facilitate our\napprehension; hence the three divine persons are truly and\nessentially the infinite. It maintains multiplicity, because the\nthree divine persons are opposed on the ground of opposition of\norigin, and are consequently distinct. Here lies the whole\ndifficulty, the reader will say; three things opposed one to\nanother, and thus distinct from each other, how are they\n_one_ in essence?\n\nWe might reply, in the first place, that the possibility of this\nis grounded on a psychological fact, which every one accustomed\nto reflection may easily ascertain. Take the operation of the\nhuman spirit. Man knows himself; in this fact the _me_\nenters twice; because the _me_ is the subject which knows,\nand at the same time the object known. The _me_ knowing is\nthe being in the subjective form; the _me_ known is the\nbeing in the objective form. Again, man loves himself through the\nidea of himself: the _me_ here enters three times--the\n_me_ under the subjective form of knowing and of loving; the\n_me_ under the objective form of known; the _me_ under\nthe objective form of being loved.\n{812}\nNevertheless, all three are one and the same being: the _me_\nunder the subjective form knows and loves the _me_ under the\nobjective form; a multiplicity and a unity which cannot be\ndisputed; not only because of the testimony of consciousness,\nwhich avers to the fact, but because on this multiplicity and\nunity are founded two distinct sciences, psychology and ideology;\npsychology, which treats of the _me_ as subject, of its\nnature and properties; ideology, which treats of the product of\nthe _me_, or ideas.\n\nThis operation of man is an image of the genesis of God's life.\nThe infinite knows and loves himself. Into this fact of his\neternal life he enters three times; the infinite, so to speak, as\nsubject knowing and loving himself; the infinite as object known;\nthe infinite as object loved. The infinite knowing himself is\nnecessarily opposed to the infinite known, because it originates\nhim by an intellectual operation; the infinite known is\nnecessarily opposed to the infinite knowing, because originated\nby him. Again, the infinite loving himself and the infinite known\n(because the infinite cannot love himself except through the\ninfinite known) are necessarily opposed to the infinite loved,\nbecause they originate him; the infinite loved is necessarily\nopposed to the infinite loving and known, because emanating from\nboth. This relative opposition of origin causes a real\ndistinction among the terms without breaking the unity of the\nessence.\n\nBut, the better to illustrate this law, and to show how well it\nmaintains unity and multiplicity in the infinite, we shall here\ninvestigate the metaphysical law of the fact; that is, why and\nhow things which are opposed to each other can harmonize and be\nbrought into unity, in a third thing.\n\nWe have given an example of the fact in the operation of man; but\nlet us give a few more instances to generalize it more and more.\nThis fact is observed in both the ideological and ontological\norders. First, as to the order of ideas. Two ideas, which in\ntheir own order are opposed to each other, harmonize and are\nbrought together in a third idea. Take, for instance, the idea of\nsubstance and modification; substance conveys the idea of\nsomething subsisting by itself, that which requires no being to\nlean on in order to subsist. It means something standing\npermanent. The idea of modification is that of something which is\nnot permanent in itself, but requires another being to lean on,\nto cling to, in order to subsist. The two ideas, as it appears,\nare directly opposed to each other, since their notions are\ncontradictory; yet both ideas, contradictory one to the other in\ntheir own order, agree and are brought into companionship in the\ncommon idea of existence, one existing permanently, the other\nexisting by leaning on another.\n\nMoreover, take the transcendental idea of unity, truth, and\ngoodness. Unity implies a negation of multiplicity, something\nundivided in itself and distinct from others. Truth implies a\nmultiplicity, because it is essentially a relation of an object\nto an intelligence; _aequatio rei et intellectus_, as St.\nThomas defines it. Goodness also implies a multiplicity, because\nit is essentially a relation of a being to a tendency or faculty.\n\nThese three ideas, contradictory or diverse, are brought into\nharmony in the common idea of being; for every metaphysician\nknows that unity, truth, goodness, are the transcendental\nqualities of being, and are identified with it.\n\n{813}\n\nThe fact is therefore indisputable in the ideological order, that\nis, of ideas contradictory one to another or diverse, agreeing in\na common idea. It is no less true in the order of reality,\nbecause ideology is founded on ontology. Take, for instance, a\nbody; it has length, breadth, height, and depth. These qualities\nof bodies are contrary to each other in their own order, yet they\nharmonize in the body. Take the forces of attraction and\nrepulsion; both are contradictory laws, yet both agree in the\nsame body. Man harmonizes and brings together in himself the laws\nof movement, of vegetation, of animality and of intelligence,\nwhich are different and contradictory to each other. And in his\nspirit, as we have said before, he opposes himself as an object\nto himself, as subject without breaking the unity of the soul.\nNow wherein lies the reason of this fact? In the ideological\norder it lies in the universality of ideas; in the order of\nreality, in the intensity of being, or in the amount of\nperfection. A universal idea comprehends and harmonizes in itself\ninferior and more particular ideas, opposed to or different from\neach other; a more perfect being, or a greater reality harmonizes\nand brings together inferior realities opposed to and diverse\nfrom each other, for the reason of its very intensity of\nperfection. A doctrine of St. Thomas beautifully illustrates this\ntruth. He inquires into the distinction between intelligent and\nnon-intelligent entities, and, after having remarked that\nintelligent beings are distinguished from those not intelligent\nby this--that the second are only capable of containing their own\nforms or actuality, whereas the first, besides their own\nactuality, are capable of receiving the forms or actuality of\nother things, because in intelligent beings is found the ideal\nsimilitude of the object known, he alleges, as a reason for this\ndistinction, contraction or limitation. \"From this it appears,\"\nhe concludes, \"that the nature of unintelligent beings is more\ncontracted and limited, while the nature of intelligent beings is\nendowed with the greater extension; hence the philosopher said\nthat the soul is as it were every thing.\" [Footnote 289]\n\n [Footnote 289: S. Th., S. T.; part, 1, qu. 14, art. 1.]\n\nThis reason, however, which accounts for a more general idea or\nfor a greater reality harmonizing in itself particular ideas or\nlesser realities opposed to each other in their own order, does\nnot account for an opposition lying in the very bosom of a being.\nIn other words, when the particular ideas and the lesser\nrealities are taken as opposed to each other, they are considered\ndistinct and apart from the general idea or greater reality. When\nthey are harmonized in the general idea or greater reality, their\nlimits and opposition are supposed to be eliminated; and this is\nthe reason why the harmony becomes possible. But when the\nopposition is to be found in the same being, that is to say, when\nterms opposed to each other are not distinct from the general\nidea or greater reality, but lie in its very bosom, then what is\nit that maintains both the opposition of the terms and the unity\nand simplicity of the being?\n\nIn this case, a relation of origin causes the opposition without\nbreaking the unity of the being.\n\nThe same being supposed subsistent, being capable of\nintelligencing itself, can beget an ideal conception of itself;\nin other words, the same being can exist as object understood in\nitself, as subject understanding, as object loved in itself, and\nas subject loving. In this origination, the relation between the\nterms originated is true and real; because the being as subject,\nas such, is really opposed to itself as object, and truly\nrelative to itself.\n{814}\nThe being could not be subject, without opposing itself as object\nto itself as subject. Yet this takes place without addition to or\nsubtraction from the unity and the simplicity of the being;\nontologically, the being is absolutely the same. What prevents us\nfrom perceiving this fully and clearly, is the action of the\nimagination and the essential condition of our intelligence,\nwhich cannot be exercised except by the help of a sensible\nphenomenon. Thus, when we strive to perceive a relation, it is\npictured to our imagination as being something real, a kind of\nlink or chain between the terms related. Now, when it is\nconsidered that this is only imaginary, and that ontologically a\nrelation is nothing more than the attitude, to speak the language\nof schoolmen, of one object toward another, it is evident that a\nbeing, capable of intelligence and of love, can oppose itself, as\nobject, to itself as subject, without addition to or diminution\nfrom or breaking up of the simplicity of the being.\n\nWe conclude--particular ideas or lesser realities, opposed to\neach other, can be harmonized in general idea, or greater\nrealities.\n\nThe metaphysical reason of this is, that opposition proceeds\noften-times from limitation, and that general idea or greater\nreality, by elimination of the limits, can harmonize things\nopposed in their own order. This reason is satisfactory when the\nparticular ideas or lesser realities are considered distinct and\napart from the general idea or greater reality; that is, they are\nopposed when distinct--the opposition vanishes when identified.\nBut the reason is not satisfactory to explain how there may be\nterms distinct and opposed to each other in the same being,\nwithout breaking the unity of the being. The law of opposition of\norigin, and the relation resulting therefrom, fully explains and\nmaintains both the multiplicity and the unity in the same being.\n\nApplying these ideas to the infinite, it is evident that, the\ndistinction of the divine personalities taking place according to\nthe law of opposition of origin, both the multiplicity of persons\nand the absolute simplicity of the divine essence are maintained.\nBecause the distinction of the divine persons is caused by a\nrelation of origin. Now, as we have seen, a relation of origin\nneither adds to nor subtracts from the essence; on the other\nhand, the relation between the terms is true and real.\nConsequently, the law of opposition of origin explains, as far as\nhuman intellect can fathom, how the distinction of the divine\npersonalities can be maintained without at all detracting from\nthe unity of the essence.\n\nIt will not do to say that theologians have imagined this law, to\nsuit their systems. This law is given by the fact of human\nthought and by the ontological requirements of being. As we have\nalready observed, being is essentially one, true, and good. Now\nthese qualities at the same time are identified with being,\nbecause, when the mind tries to fathom them, it finds nothing\nadded to being, and yet are they essentially a relation. Here we\nhave identity and distinction, and nothing can explain it, as far\nas the mystery of being can be explained, except the law of\nopposition of origin. Our readers, from the above remarks, may\nsee what becomes of that great objection, so often urged against\nthe dogma of the trinity, and so many times disposed of by the\ndoctors of the church, yet repeated again and again which the\nsame assurance.\n\n{815}\n\nIt is said, _quae sunt idem tertio, sunt eadem inter se_;\nthat is, things which are identical with a third thing are\nidentical with each other. Now, the three divine persons,\naccording to catholic doctrine, are identical with infinite\nessence; therefore they are identical with each other; that is,\nnot distinct, and consequently cannot exist. Oftentimes, in\nthinking over this objection so triumphantly brought forward, we\nhave thought of the well-known lines of Pope:\n\n \"A little learning is a dangerous thing;\n Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring;\n Those shallow draughts intoxicate the brain,\n But drinking largely sobers us again.\"\n\nFor the principle, when examined carefully, does not apply to\nthose cases in which a distinction is predicated of a being\ncaused by a relation to itself.\n\nFor instance, upon that principle we might reason thus: things\nwhich are identical with a third thing are identical with each\nother. But height, length, breadth, and depth are one and the\nsame thing with bodies; therefore, are identical among\nthemselves; and all distinction between height and depth, length\nand breadth, is a pure figment; and architects, calculating the\nproportions of a building, would do well to remember the\nprinciple, for it would save them considerable time and trouble.\n\nAgain: unity, truth, and goodness are identical with reality. But\nthose things which are identical with a third are identical with\neach other; therefore, unity, truth, goodness are identical among\nthemselves, and it is the same thing to be one, true, and good,\nas to be. And all the different sciences formed on these\nrelations of being are useless wastes of thought and meditation.\n\nMoreover, the thinking and loving subject in man, the thought and\nthe love, are identical with the soul; therefore, according to\nthe said principle, there is no distinction between the thinking\nsubject and the thought, and all ideology and grammar is nothing\nbut useless pastime, and we could correctly say, the soul is a\nthinking subject--the soul is a thought.\n\nThe truth is, that the principle applies only to particular\ncases, and is by no means general; because, as we have\ndemonstrated, being, in general, requires three distinct\nrelations to be conceived, and which, remaining distinct among\nthemselves, are yet identical with being.\n\nThe infinite being could neither be conceived, nor be actual,\nwithout three distinct relations, which must be identical with\nthe essence, without ceasing to be distinct one from another. If\nits truth were general and it applied to all cases, it would\nabolish all distinction in the infinite being, and consequently,\nabolish its actuality and intelligibility, and leave it only as\nan abstraction--the Hegelian being--nothing.\n\nMoreover, that the principle does not apply to the infinite is\nevident from the very enunciation and meaning of the principle.\nThings which are identical with a third are identical with each\nother. In the enunciation and in the meaning, the principle\nsupposes a plurality, and, consequently, a distinction; for the\ngist of the principle is to compare a multiplicity to a unity.\nNow, who does not see that, if there were not a supreme identity\nand a supreme multiplicity beyond the sphere and subordination of\nthis principle, the principle itself would be destroyed?\n\n{816}\n\nFor if it be asked, what is the origin, the cause, and the\nsupreme expression of plurality and distinction, which this\nprinciple supposes, we must rise to a supreme and typical\ndistinction and identity, not subject to the principle; else we\ncould never account for the existence of the principle.\n\nThe infinite is the supreme identity and the supreme\nmultiplicity, the cause of all distinction and identity, and\nconsequently, to it the principle cannot apply.\n\nWe conclude, therefore, that the first law governing the genesis\nof God's life is the law of opposition of origin, and that this\nlaw accounts both for the unity of essence and the trinity of\npersons in God.\n\nWe pass to the second law, which is as follows: _In the\ninfinite, there must be a person who does not proceed from\nanything, and who is neither begotten nor made, but who subsists\nby himself_. The metaphysical reason of this law is, that\nthere must be a first principle in everything, both in the\nontological and in the ideological orders.\n\nIn the ontological order, because if every principle of reality,\nif every cause called for the existence of another to explain its\nexistence, it is evident that there would be a process _ad\ninfinitum_ without explaining anything. For an infinite number\nof causes, each requiring another cause to explain their\nexistence, would multiply, _ad infinitum_, the necessity of\nfirst cause, existing by itself and containing in itself the\nreason of its existence.\n\nIn the ideological order, because every science must have a\nprinciple which is not derived from any other, and which must be\ntaken for granted, otherwise science would become impossible. Ask\na proof and a demonstration for every principle, say of\nmathematics, and you will never be able to learn it.\n\nThus, in the genesis of infinite life, there must be a first\nperson who subsists by himself, otherwise the life of the\ninfinite becomes impossible.\n\nBut, besides this general reason which requires a first person\nunderived from anything, there is a particular reason, more\nclosely allied to the subject, which demonstrates it. Because, if\nthere were not a first person in the infinite, not proceeding\nfrom any other thing, it would originate either from the essence\nor from another person. Now, it could not originate from the\nessence; because between the principle and its product there is a\nreal opposition of origin; therefore, in the supposition, there\nwould be a real opposition between the essence of the infinite\nand the first person. Now, the essence in question is infinite,\nand only the finite can be opposed to it. The first person,\ntherefore, proceeding from the essence, would be finite and not\ninfinite; that is, he would be a creature. Moreover, it would be\nimpossible that the first person should proceed from the essence,\nbecause the essence without subsistence is an abstraction, and an\nabstraction could not originate a reality.\n\nIt could not proceed from another person, because, as we have\nremarked, this other person, unless subsisting of himself, would\nrequire another as his principle, and so on _ad infinitum_.\n\nAs a corollary of this law, it follows that whatever other\npersons may be supposed to exist in the infinite, they must\noriginate from the first; because--no other distinction being\npossible in the infinite, but that arising from opposition of\norigin--it follows that, if there were other persons in the\ninfinite, and if they did not originate from the first, they\ncould not be opposed to it, and therefore they could not be\ndistinguished from it; in other words, they could not exist.\n\n{817}\n\nA third law governs the life of the infinite; which, if possible,\nis yet more important than the former two. It is the law of\nimmanence, which may be expressed in the following formula.\n\n_The action, by which the persons in the infinite are\noriginated, terminates inside of the infinite, and is permanent,\neternal, and complete_.\n\nLet it be observed that the action of an agent is always interior\nto it, because it is its own movement. But the product of the\nagent is not always so; sometimes it is laid inside the agent;\nsometimes it terminates outside the agent. In the first case, the\naction is called immanent or interior; in the second, transient\nor exterior; not because the action is not always interior to the\nsubject, but because the effect or term of the action is exterior\nor foreign to the subject. The first sense, then, in which the\nlaw of immanence is to be applied to the infinite is, that the\nterms of the action of the first person terminate inside the\ninfinite; because, if they were to terminate outside of God, they\nwould be something different from him, and consequently not\ndivine persons, but finite beings.\n\nBut the law has a higher and more important bearing: it implies\nthat the action by which the divine persons are originated is not\ntransitory, successive, and incomplete, but permanent, eternal,\nand complete; because God is infinite actuality, or actuality\nitself.\n\nForget for one single moment to apply this law to the genesis of\nGod's life, and you fall at once into pantheism. For suppose the\nact, by which the divine persons are originated, to be transient,\nsuccessive, temporary, incomplete, and it would follow at once\nthat God is in continual development and explication. For He is\neither complete and perfect, or on the road to perfection. He is\nin _fieri_, or becoming.\n\nAnd since, as we have often remarked, every development consists\nof different stages of explication, the last of which is always\nmore perfect than those which precede it, it would follow that\nthe genesis of God's life consists of a successive series of\nevolutions, the last of which is always more perfect than that\nwhich precedes it. Now, assuming the genesis of God's life at one\ndeterminate stage, and travelling backward to arrive at the first\nstage of explication from which He started, we should pass from a\nmore perfect, defined, concrete stage of development, to one less\nperfect, less defined, less determinate, and thence to one still\nless so, until we should arrive at the most indeterminate,\nundefined, abstract stage of evolution; at the _least\nbeing_--the _being_ not _being_, the first principle\nof pantheism.\n\nBut, keeping in view the law of immanence, every one can see that\nGod's action is supposed at once all perfect, complete, and\nadequate--in one word, eternal; and consequently every idea of\ndevelopment, progress, and succession is eliminated; and the\nconsequence is, that the infinite is at once conceived as being\ninfinite actuality; the first principle of Catholic theology--the\nprecise contradictory of pantheism.\n\nHence, according to this law, the first person is always\noriginating, and his origination is always perfect; the others\nare always originated, and their existence is always perfect,\nadequate, and complete. We say _always_ and _are\noriginated_, not because the expressions convey the idea of\neternal actuality and completeness, but because, our mind being\nmeasured by time, we can find no better words to exhibit the\nidea. Let this remark be made once for all.\n\n{818}\n\nA corollary of this law is, that whatever persons are originated\nin the infinite, being within the essence of God and terminating\nin Him, they are--_the infinite_, because nothing can be\nadded to the infinite.\n\nFourth law: _In the infinite there are no more than two\nprocessions_.\n\nBy processions we mean the origination of one person from\nanother.\n\nNow, that in God there are no more than two processions will\nappear evident, if we consider the proper operation of God. God\nis a spiritual nature; the proper operation of a spiritual nature\nis by intelligence and by will; therefore, the operation of God\nis by intelligence and by will, and consequently one origination\nis by the intelligence, the other by the will.\n\nSo far we have given those laws which govern, in general, the\ngenesis of God's life. We must now proceed to those laws which\ngovern the particular origination of each of the two divine\npersons.\n\nNow, the law governing the origination of the second person is\nthe law of intellectual generation. Generation implies the\nfollowing elements:\n\n 1st, the production of a living being from a living principle;\n\n 2d, identity of nature between the two;\n\n 3d, this identity required by the very natural, essential, and\n direct tendency of the action by which the term is produced.\n\nIt is according to these elements of generative law that the\nsecond person in the infinite is produced; and consequently he is\nreally and truly the _Son_ of God, as the producer is\n_Father_.\n\nFor the first person, whom we have said to be subsisting by\nhimself, being intelligent activity, necessarily intelligences\nhimself. He is the God-head intelligencing himself.\n\nNow, an object understood, inasmuch as it is understood, exists\nin the understanding in an intelligible state; for to understand\nmeans just to apprehend, to grasp intelligibly that which is\nunderstood.\n\nThe Godhead, therefore, is in himself as the Godhead understood\nis in the Godhead understanding. Now, the object understood\nexisting in the intelligence, is what is called mental word,\nintellectual conception, and by the Greeks, _logos_.\n\nHence in the Godhead exists the Godhead as mental word or logos.\nSt. John, with a sublime expression, which electrified all the\nPlatonic philosophers, began his Gospel thus: \"In the beginning\n(the Father) was the Word.\"\n\nThis Word of the Godhead being conceived by an immanent act, an\nact which has neither beginning nor end, which is not power\nbefore it is act, is conceived therefore eternally, and\nconsequently is coeternal with the conceiver. It is God or the\ninfinite; because the first person, or intelligent activity,\nbegets him by an operation which terminates inside himself, by\nthe law of immanence; consequently the Word is identical with his\nessence, and is, therefore, the infinite.\n\nYet is he a distinct person from the first as Word.\n\nFor although the intelligent activity and the Word are both God,\nyet are they distinct from each other by the law of opposition of\norigin, which implies that a term proceeding from a principle is\nnecessarily opposed to it, and consequently distinct from it.\nThus the intelligent activity, as principle, is necessarily\nopposed to the Word as term; and, _vice versa_, the Word as\nterm is necessarily opposed to the intelligent activity as\nprinciple.\n{819}\nIn other words, the intelligent activity could not be what it is,\nunless it were the opposite of the Word, and this could not be\nthe Word unless it were the very opposite of intelligent\nactivity. Hence, to be intelligent, activity belongs so\nexclusively to the First, as to exclude any other from partaking\nin that distinctive constituent; and to be Word is claimed so\nexclusively by the Second, as to be attributed to no other. The\nresult is a duality of terminations, possessed of the same\ninfinite nature and its essential attributes, each having a\nconstituent so exclusively its own as to be altogether\nincommunicable. Now, two terminations, possessed of the same\ninfinite nature and its essential attributes, with a constituent\nso exclusively their own as to be attributed to no other, convey\nthe idea of two persons. For what is a person? A spiritual being\nwith a termination of his own, which makes him distinct from any\nother, gives him the ownership of himself and renders him\nsolidary of his action.\n\nNow, the intelligent activity is a spiritual being, since he is\nthe Godhead; is possessed of a constituent of his own,\nintelligent activity; has the ownership of himself; for, as\nintelligent activity, he is himself and no other, and cannot\ncommunicate himself; and is solidary of his notional action, that\nis, the action which constitutes him what he is: he is,\ntherefore, a person.\n\nLikewise the Word is a spiritual nature; for he is the same\nGodhead as to substance; as a relation or Word, he is the owner\nof himself, incommunicable, and solidary of his notional action;\nhence, he is also a person.\n\nIn other words, the Godhead is an infinite spirit; all that\nconstitutes him, both substance and terms of relation, is spirit.\nConsequently, each term of the divine relation, as such term, has\nan individuality of his own and, as infinite spirit, has\nknowledge and intelligence of himself; he beholds himself\ndistinct from the other as term of relation, one with the other\nas substance. His distinction causes his relative individuality;\nconsciousness and intelligence of this relative individuality\nmake him a person.\n\nHere an objection might be raised; to be a person implies,\nnecessarily, to be intelligent, which is an essential attribute\nof spiritual being. Therefore the Word also must be intelligent,\notherwise he would have neither knowledge nor consciousness of\nhis individuality. But you have attributed intelligence to the\nfirst person as being his particular termination; therefore how\ncan the Word be a person, if intelligence be the particular\ntermination of the first? Either the Word is not intelligent, and\nthen he cannot be a person, or intelligence is not the particular\ntermination of the first, and in that case they cannot be\npersons, for they cannot be distinct.\n\nThe difficulty will vanish if it be observed that we have not\nattributed intelligence to the first person as his particular\ntermination, but intelligent _activity_.\n\nA slight attention to the manner according to which the Word is\nproduced in the infinite, will illustrate this distinction. The\nintelligence of the Godhead is infinite in its activity and\nactuality, as well as infinite in its term; which means that the\nGodhead understands itself infinitely, and an infinite term is\nthe product of this intellection. Hence, once God has understood\nhimself and conceived the expression of his intelligence, the\nactivity is complete and fully terminated; consequently, the\nWord, the term of this intelligencing, has the Godhead with all\nits essential attributes communicated to him; except the activity\nof intelligencing, because the activity is complete in the\nproduction of the Word.\n\n{820}\n\nIn other words, the act of the first person is eternal, complete,\nand perfect, by the laws of immanence. Its activity is fully and\nperfectly exercised in engendering the Word, hence it cannot be\ncommunicated. If it were communicated, it would argue\nimperfection and incompleteness in the act and in its term. In\nthe act, for if any portion of activity remained to be\ncommunicated, the Godhead would not intelligence himself to the\nfullest extent of his infinity; in the term, because the Godhead\nnot intelligencing himself to the full extent of his infinity,\nthe intellectual utterance which would be produced would not\nfully and perfectly express the object.\n\nConsequently both would be imperfect, incomplete, and potential.\nThis happens in human conception. Our mind, being finite, that\nis, partial and imperfect, is forced to exert itself partially\nand conceive various mental words, which would not be the case if\nits activity were perfect and complete, as it is in the infinite.\n\nThis answers another objection which is brought forward by those\nwho lose sight of the law of immanence in the divine operation.\nIt is said, If the Word be intelligent, there is nothing to\nprevent his engendering another Word, and this second, a third,\nand so on _ad infinitum_.\n\nThe Word is intelligent, but not intelligent activity. When\nintelligence, so to speak, is communicated to him, it has been\nexercised in the engendering of himself; or better, the eternal\nimmanent act of the intelligent activity communicating\nintelligence to the Word, is continually being exercised in the\nimmanent engendering of the Word; therefore it cannot be\ncommunicated to him. [Footnote 290]\n\n [Footnote 290: In Filio non habet _intellectus_ illam\n veluti _virtutem_ quia iam habuit actum sibi\n adequatum.--_Suarez_, De Trin., lib. 1. cap. 7. v. 11.]\n\nHence that magnificent expression of the Scripture, \"_Semel\nloquitur Deus_.\" \"God speaks but once.\" But because the\nactivity of engendering another Word is not communicated to him,\nit does not follow that he is not endowed with the act of\nintelligencing the Father or himself; the Father as his\nprinciple, himself as the product of the Father. For it is one\nthing to be intelligent, another thing to be intelligent\nprinciple. To give some examples of this distinction. The\narchitect of a building who has planned it, is the intelligent\nprinciple of the building; another, who understands the plan of\nthe building, is the intelligent _beholder_ of the building.\n\nGod is the intelligent cause of the world, man is the intelligent\nperceiver of the world.\n\nThere being, therefore, a distinction between intelligence as\nprinciple or cause, and intelligence as perception, one may\neasily conceive how the Word in the infinite may be possessed of\nintelligence, without being the principle of intelligence.\n\nThe Word, who is one Godhead with the first person, a distinct\nperson himself, is also the substantial image of the first\nperson. Because, in force of the act by which he is uttered,\nwhich is essentially assimilative, he is produced as the likeness\nof him whose expression and utterance he is; and as he is one as\nto substance with the conceiver, he is, consequently, his\nsubstantial image and likeness. We conclude, therefore, that the\nproduction of the second person in the infinite--resulting in a\nperson, the substantial image of the conceiver, in force of the\nact of intelligencing by which he is produced, which is\nessentially assimilative--is governed by the law of generation;\nand that, consequently, the first person in the infinite is\n_Father_, and the second, _Son_. \"_Thou art my Son,\nto-day I have begotten thee_.\" [Footnote 291]\n\n [Footnote 291: Ps. ii. 7.]\n\n{821}\n\nThe law by which the third person in the infinite is produced, is\ndifferent from that which governs the production of the second.\n\nThe latter takes place according to the law of generation or\nassimilation; the former is subject to the law of aspiration,\nwhich must be understood as follows.\n\nBy his Word, the intelligent activity apprehends and conceives\nhis infinite perfection and goodness. For the Word, as we have\nseen, is nothing but the infinite and most perfect expression or\nimage of the intelligent activity, and as the intelligent\nactivity is infinite perfection and excellence, so the Word is\nthe utterance, the intellectual reproduction of that excellence\nand goodness. Hence the intelligent activity, by his Word,\nconceives and utters himself as infinite perception and\nexcellence. But perfection or goodness _apprehended_ is\nnecessarily loved. For goodness, once apprehended, awakens the\nwill, and necessarily inclines it toward itself; it necessarily\nattracts and affects it. The intelligent activity, therefore by\napprehending himself through his Word as infinite perfection and\ngoodness, necessarily loves himself.\n\nLove implies the insidence or indwelling of the object loved in\nthe subject loving. The intelligent activity, therefore, who\nnecessarily loves himself through his Word, must be as object\nloved in himself as subject loving.\n\nThis love as object must be co-eternal with the infinite, because\nby the law of immanence which governs the genesis of infinite\nlife, every origination in the infinite must be co-eternal with\nthe infinite.\n\nBy the same law also, it must be identical and one with the\ninfinite; because love, being originated by an immanent act,\nterminates inside of the infinite, and is, therefore, identical\nwith the infinite. The love as object, therefore, is coeternal\nand identical with the infinite; it _is_ the infinite.\n\nIt is distinct from love as subject and from the Word, by the law\nof opposition of origin, which implies that a term which\noriginates from a principle is necessarily opposed to it, and\nconsequently distinct. Now, love, as object in the infinite,\noriginates from the intelligent activity and from the Word. The\nintelligent activity, by apprehending himself, as infinite\ngoodness and excellence, through his Word, loves himself. Hence,\nthis love proceeds from both--the intelligent activity, who\nconceives his infinite goodness--the Word, who represents it, and\nmakes it intelligible. This love-object is a third person. For,\nfrom what we have said, it appears that love-object is identical\nwith the infinite, with the divine essence, and consequently\npartakes of all the infinite attributes of the essence; hence he\nis a spiritual and intelligent being; as distinct from both the\nintelligent activity and the Word, he is possessed of a\ntermination exclusively his own, which makes him the owner of\nhimself incommunicable and solidary of his notional action. Hence\nhe is a person.\n\n{822}\n\nThis third person, not being originated according to a likeness\nof nature, cannot, like the second person, be called son. He is\nthe personal and subsisting love of the Father and of the Son;\nand as the object loved exists in the subject loving, as\ninclining, and in a certain manner as impelling, the subject\ntoward it, as raising in the subject an attraction or aspiration\ntoward it, hence the third person is called the living and\nsubsisting Spirit of God.\n\nThe better to conceive this distinctive termination of the third\nterm in the infinite, let us suppose an attraction between two\npersons. It is needless to remark that we use this term for want\nof a better and more spiritual one. Suppose, therefore, an\nattraction between two persons; do not make it an accident or\nmodification, but substantial; carry it to its utmost perfection,\nactualize it _ad infinitum_; so that it may be able to\nreturn upon itself, to have consciousness of itself, to possess\nand own itself, and in this sense to feel itself distinct from\nand independent of all others--and you will have, as product, a\nsubsisting or _personal_ attraction, a third person.\n\nSuch is the idea we can form of the Holy Spirit. The Father\nbeholds himself totally in the Son as an offspring of himself,\nand loves himself in his offspring, his perfect and substantial\nexpression.\n\nThe Son beholds himself totally in the Father as his author, and\nloves the Father as his principle and origin. This common love,\nthis mutual attraction, this aspiration of the Father toward the\nSon, and of the Son toward, the Father, being infinite, is most\nactual, perfect, and complete--a living, subsisting attraction,\nwith consciousness and the ownership of himself, a subsistence\npersonifying their mutual love and binding both in one eternal\ntie of affection.\n\nHence, by this distinctive constituent of common love, the Spirit\nis the archetype of harmony and order; since in his personality\nhe brings the opposition existing between the conceiver and the\nconceived into harmony and unity of love.\n\nHe is also the archetype of the _beautiful_, being the very\nbeauty and loveliness of God.\n\nBeauty, in its highest metaphysical expression, is variety\nreduced to unity, by order and proportion. Now, the Spirit\nharmonizes the reality and the intelligibility of God into a\nunity of love. Hence he is the beauty of the Father and the\nSon--their personal and eternal loveliness; and as such, the\narchetype of the beautiful in all orders.\n\nHe is the very bliss of the infinite, because bliss is the\nperfect possession of infinite life. Now, it is in the production\nof the Spirit that the genesis of infinite life terminates and is\ncomplete. He is, then, the expression of the perfect possession\nand enjoyment of the infinite life--the living Blessedness of\nthe infinite. The last law which governs the mystery of God's\nlife, and which is a consequence of all the laws we have\nexplained, is the law of _insidence_.\n\nThis implies the indwelling of all the divine persons in each\nother. It is founded both on the community of essence and the\nvery nature of personalities.\n\nFor the essence of the three divine persons, being one and most\nsimple, it follows that they all meet in it, and consequently\ndwell in each other. On the other hand, what constitutes them\npersons is essentially a relation. Now, a relation necessarily\nasks for and includes the relative term. The intelligent activity\nis such, because in him dwells the Word, his infinite expression.\nThe Word is such, because he is the expression of the intelligent\nactivity, and dwells in him. The Spirit necessarily dwells in\nboth, because he is the subsisting aspiration of the activity\ntoward its conception, and of the conception toward its\nprinciple.\n\n{823}\n\n\"_Believe that the Father is in me, and I in the Father_.\"\n(St. John.)\n\nWith these laws, we conclude the first part of the problem of\nmultiplicity raised by pantheism. It is true, as pantheism\naffirms, that there must be a certain multiplicity in the unity\nof infinite essence. For, without a certain multiplicity, no\nbeing can exist or be intelligible. Pantheism, in giving such\nprominent importance to the problem, has rendered great service\nto philosophy and to religion, and has cut off, in the very bud,\nall those objections raised by the superficial reason of Arians\nor anti-trinitarians of old, or Unitarians of modern times. But,\nas we have seen, however able in raising the problem, Pantheism\nutterly fails in resolving it; and, in its effort to explain the\nproblem, destroys both the terms to be reconciled. Catholicity,\nfully conscious of the immense value of the problem,\nunflinchingly asserts that it alone has the secret of its\nsolution. Without at all assuming to explain away its\nsuper-intelligibility, it lays down such an answer as fully\nsatisfies the mind which can appreciate the importance and the\nsublimity of the problem, and follow it into the depths of its\nexplanation. The infinite, says Catholicity, is not infinite as\nan abstraction or potentiality, a germ as Pantheism affirms,\nwhich ceases to be infinite when it passes into multiplicity; the\ninfinite is actuality itself.\n\nThis actuality consists in a first personality unborn and\nunbegotten, with full consciousness of himself and his infinite\nperfection. This personality is active intelligence, and in\nintelligencing his infinite perfection, begets a conception, an\nintelligible expression of that perfection, a second person. The\nactive intelligence loves his infinite personality conceived by\nhim in his intelligence. This love is a third personality.\n\nThree personalities or terminations of one infinite actuality: a\nmultiplicity in unity; unity without being broken by\nmultiplicity; multiplicity without being destroyed by unity.\n\nHence the infinite is not a dead, immovable, unintelligible\nunity, but a living, actual, intelligible unity; because it is\nunity of nature and a trinity of persons; because the unity falls\nin the essence, the multiplicity, in the terminations of the\nessence.\n\n ----------\n\n{824}\n\n A Legend for Husbands.--1699.\n\n Which Wives, Too, May Read--possibly Not Without Profit.\n\n\nMy story is of people that have long since passed away, so that\nno one need take it as personal.\n\nAmerican travellers sometimes differ--though for my part, I do\nnot see why they should--as to the relative attractions of Paris\nand London. But they seldom fail to concur in their estimate of\nBrussels as one of the most interesting and agreeable cities in\nEurope.\n\nAnd really the Flemish metropolis presents a remarkable variety\nof attractions. Parks, boulevards, botanic gardens, museums,\nquaint old streets, quainter old houses, libraries, great\npictures, treasures of Rubens, wealth of old MSS., and last, not\nleast, grand specimens of middle-age architecture, such as the\nHotel de Ville and the Cathedral of St. Gudule.\n\nIndeed, in mediaeval monuments no country in Europe is richer\nthan Belgium.\n\nIn presence of her grand old cathedrals you can well understand\nthe enthusiasm of those artists who maintain that our age takes\nentirely too much credit to itself for its encouragement of the\nfine arts. Neither the past nor the present century, they\nmaintain, will leave to posterity monuments of such grandeur,\nboldness, beauty, and originality as have been bequeathed to us\nby the period that immediately followed the crusades; and\nstrangely enough, these bequests of the \"dark ages\" can bear any\ntest of critical scrutiny, even in the full blaze of our\nnineteenth century enlightenment.\n\nWill our architectural legacies appear as well in the eyes of\nfuture generations?\n\n\"Why, look around you,\" said to me a Flemish artist; \"in those\ndays the erection of a costly edifice was not handed over to mere\nmechanics. The body of it was intrusted to architects. Sculptors\ncreated its woodwork. Carvers executed what is now turned out by\nmachinery; painters gave you pictures where you now get plaster,\nand the Benvenuto Cellinis of the day worked their miracles of\nart in metals which today the blacksmith hammers out at his\nforge. Ah! that was the golden age of artists, when the pulpits,\nthe altars, the stalls, and the organ-lofts were monuments; when\nfurniture, doors, chairs, and tables were poems in wood; when the\nfamily goblets, the mere handle of a poignard or a sword were\nchased and embellished; when exquisite miniatures, illuminated\nmissals, and wood engravings made a picture-gallery of the dryest\nchronicle; when fresco and encaustic decorated the walls and\nfloors; when ceilings and beams shone with arabesques, windows\nwere bright with stained glass; when, in short, all the arts\nbrought their tribute of beauty to a church or to a palace. It\nwas in the fading twilight of these artistic glories that\nsculpture in wood still flourished among the artists of ancient\nFlanders.\"\n\nSomewhat thus discoursed to me an enthusiastic young Belgian\npainter, as we stood together admiring that grand work of art,\nthe carved oak pulpit in the cathedral of St. Gudule, at\nBrussels.\n\n{825}\n\nThis pulpit is a work to which the term unique may be applied\nwith scrupulous fidelity.\n\nThe admiration drawn from you by sculptures in wood elsewhere\nculminates in presence of this singular creation of genius. No\ndescription can adequately place it before you or render it\njustice. In its exquisite architecture and sculpture, a poem as\ngrand as that of Milton is spread out before you.\n\nAn outline, only, the merest outline, can be attempted to supply\ndescription.\n\nAdam and Eve apparently sustain the terrestrial globe. An angel\nchases them from Paradise, and Death pursues them. The life-size\nfigure of Adam, in particular, is admirable. Carved in marble, it\nwould have been something for Canova to have been proud of. The\npreacher stands in the concavity of the globe, which is\novershadowed by the branches of the tree of good and evil,\ncovered with birds and animals characteristically grouped. By the\nside of Adam is an eagle; on that of Eve, a peacock and a\nsquirrel.\n\nTo the top of the tree is attached a canopy upheld by two angels\nand a female figure symbolical of truth. Above stands the Blessed\nVirgin with the infant Saviour, who, with a cross in his hand,\ncrushes the head of the Serpent, whose hideous body, in huge\nfolds, twines around the tree. \"This pulpit was made,\" said, or\nrather sang, to me, the old gray-haired sexton or _bedeau_,\nto the tune in which he had shown the lions of the cathedral for\nmore than thirty years--\"This pulpit was made by Verbruggen, of\nAntwerp, in 1699, for the Jesuits of Louvain. Upon the\nsuppression of their order, it was presented to this cathedral by\nthe empress Maria Theresa. This pulpit--\"\n\nHere I interrupted him with questions as to Verbruggen--what was\nknown of him? Had he left any other works? and so on, to the end\nof the chapter. All in vain; I could obtain nothing but a\nnegative shake of the head, and a hint that it was time to close\nthe cathedral doors.\n\nMy stay in Brussels was prolonged many weeks; and besides my\nattendance on Sundays, I frequently, in my rambles between the\ngrand park and what Mrs. Major O'Dowd calls the _Marchy\nO'flures_, strayed into St. Gudule to admire the finest\nspecimens of stained glass in the world; to read the inscriptions\non the tombs of the Dukes of Brabant, and to feast my eyes and\nimagination on the grand old pulpit.\n\nIn the course of these visits I became better acquainted with the\n_bedeau_ in charge, and after some persuasion and a few\nwell-timed attentions, the old man at last acknowledged to me\nthat there was something more than mere names and dates connected\nwith the history of the pulpit.\n\nFinally, upon my solemn assurance that I was not an Englishman,\nand would not write a book and put him and the pulpit therein, he\npromised to tell me all he knew about it.\n\nAccordingly, by arrangement with him, I loitered in the cathedral\none evening after vespers until the faithful had finished their\ndevotions and left the church.\n\nTaking a couple of rush-bottom chairs from one of the huge\npyramids of them piled up at the lower end of the building, we\nseated ourselves just outside the grand portal, and the old man\nbegan his recital. Years have since gone by, and I cannot repeat\nit in his quaint manner; but, substantially, he thus told me the\n\n{826}\n\n Story Of The Carved Oak Pulpit.\n\nHenry Verbruggen was heart and soul an artist. Gay, careless,\npleasure-loving, he appeared to live but for two things; his art,\nfirst, and then his amusements.\n\nVerbruggen married Martha Van Meeren, the pretty, the timid, the\ngood Martha Van Meeren. In the mirage of his artist's enthusiasm\nher sweetness, her grace, her beauty, made her at first appear to\nhim a sylph, a muse, an angel.\n\nAlas! though gentle and attractive, Martha was, after all, only a\nwoman, of the earth, earthy. In a quiet, well-ordered household\nMartha would have been a treasure; but in the eccentric home of\nthe artist she was out of her element.\n\nA pattern of neatness and economy, an accomplished Flemish\nhouse-wife, a neat domicil and well-spread table possessed for\nMartha more attraction than the imaginary world of beauty in\nwhich her artist husband revelled, even when poverty threatened\nor want oppressed them. Poor Martha! In vain she remonstrated; in\nvain she implored. Henry would neglect his work; he would be idle\nand spend his days at the _cabaret_, in the society of those\nwho were even more idle and more dissipated than himself.\n\nThus years went on. Martha was not happy. A tinge of moroseness\nshaded the clear sunshine of her usual mildness. Occasionally,\ntoo, she came out of her quiet sadness and found sharp words of\nreproof for Henry, and anger for the companions who kept him from\nhome. And so it came about that soon, in Verbruggen's eyes,\nMartha appeared harsh and repulsive. Then swiftly followed\ndispute and recrimination. His early enchantment had disappeared;\nMartha was not the wife for him, thought Verbruggen. He should\nhave had one as careless, as enthusiastic as himself. Would such\na wife have suited him, think you--you who know the human heart?\n\nMeantime things went from bad to worse. Verbruggen scarcely came\nhome, totally neglected his art, fell into utter idleness and the\nslough of despond, and his family was soon reduced to\nwant--almost to beggary.\n\nIn this crisis--it was in the year 1699--a Jesuit father who had\nheard of Verbruggen's talent, called upon him, supplied him with\nmeans, and ordered a pulpit, the most beautiful his art could\nproduce, for the church at Louvain.\n\nSurprise, gratitude, joy, enthusiasm, all contributed to arouse\nthe dormant energies of the artist. He set himself energetically\nat the composition of a design for his work.\n\n\"I will make,\" said he, \"of this pulpit my greatest production.\nIt shall be,\" he exclaimed, growing radiant with artistic\ninspiration, \"something that shall display at a glance the\nhistory of the Christian religion. I will place,\" thus he mused,\n\"under the terrestrial globe, Adam and Eve the moment after the\nfatal act of disobedience. This globe shall be the pulpit. Around\nit shall watch the four Evangelists. Over it shall hang the\ncanopy of heaven, supported on the right by angels, on the left\nby Truth herself. The date-tree shall lend its shade. The long\nscaly wings of the serpent shall encircle it, reaching from man\non earth to the Blessed Virgin in heaven. By the side of man I\nwill place the cherubim armed with his flaming sword, and near\nEve, young and beautiful, a hideous figure of Death. Higher up\nshall be the divine infant, with one foot on the head of the\nserpent; he shall stand by the side of his august mother,\nresplendent in her crown of stars, surrounded by angels, cherubs,\nand seraphs.\n{827}\nYes, all this and more will I do. The very wood shall grow into\nlife under my hands, and ages yet unborn shall hear of Henry\nVerbruggen of Antwerp.\"\n\nThe artist went at his work with all the enthusiasm of genius,\nand had completed the body of the pulpit without placing the\nEvangelists according to his original design, when, in a moment\nof malicious spite, he imagined he would punish Martha by\ndisplaying near Eve various satirical emblems of her sex's\nqualities.\n\nOn the branches, then, that entwine the staircase leading up on\nthe side of Eve, he placed a peacock, symbol of pride; a\nsquirrel, symbol of destruction; a cock, symbol of noise; and an\nape, image of malice; of all which defects, poor Martha, as the\nangels well knew, was as innocent as an infant.\n\nOf the statue of Adam, Verbruggen made a _chef d'oeuvre_--a\nfigure full of dignity and manly beauty. The figure of Eve is\ninferior, and has less grace and animation.\n\nAnd now to complete his sculptured marital spite, on Adam's side\nhe carved an eagle, symbol of genius.\n\nThus far had he progressed when poor Martha sickened and died. In\nhis motherless household Verbruggen soon discovered the extent of\nhis misfortune, and learned, as Shakespeare has so well told the\nworld, that\n\n \"What we have we prize not to the worth;\n But being lacked and lost,\n We then do know its value.\"\n\nAnd now came the reaction. Verbruggen deeply mourned Martha. He\nsincerely deplored her. Her admirable qualities came fresh upon\nhis memory, and he bitterly reproached himself for his unkindness\nand neglect.\n\nSoon he fell into fits of despondency. Discouragement took\npossession of him, and his pulpit, begun with so much energy,\nstood unfinished.\n\nAccustomed to find his home in order, his table spread, he soon\ndiscovered their loss, as well as the want of a thousand little\nattentions and kindnesses which none could now give him; and in\nshort, as he was in the high road for discoveries, we may safely\nconclude that he found out, with Ben Franklin, that a lone man is\nbut the half of a pair of scissors.\n\nTwelve months passed by. Verbruggen's friends counselled him to\nremarry. \"You are but thirty-six,\" said they. \"You have sincerely\nmourned Martha's loss, and have done full justice to her\nexcellent qualities; but you can yet do as well, if not better.\nThere is Cecily Van Eyck, talented, a painter, an artist, like\nyourself. Your dispositions accord, and if she consents to have\nyou, she will be a mother to your little girl and make you an\nadmirable wife.\"\n\nHenry listened to his friends, thought over what they said, and\nfollowed their advice. He became Cecily's suitor, and was\naccepted.\n\nNow Cecily Van Eyck was very smiling, very sweet, very charming;\nbut Cecily had a will of her own.\n\nScarcely had the honeymoon gone by, when she enlightened Henry\nwith some new ideas, and gave him several very distinct notions\nas to the proper distribution of domestic power in a household.\nIn a more propitious age Cecily would have made her mark in a\n_Sorosis_, and been a leader of the most advanced radical\nwing of a woman's rights party.\n\n{828}\n\nHer mastery over Verbruggen was complete, and the poor artist\neven kissed his chains.\n\nOne day she said to him, \"What are you doing? Your apathy is\ncomplained of, and I am taunted with it. Remember, if you please,\nthat Van Eyck is a name not unknown. Let me not lose, I pray you,\nby changing it for that of Verbruggen. Where is the pulpit, that\n_chef d'oeuvre_ you so long since announced?\"\n\nIn reply he led her to his studio. Cecily had an artist's eye,\nand more--a woman's.\n\n\"What mean,\" said she, \"these emblems by the side of Eve?\"\n\nThe sculptor blushed.\n\n\"When I made them,\" he answered, \"I did not know Cecily Van\nEyck.\"\n\n\"'Tis well. But after these emblems of defects, which perhaps\nwomen have not, what do you intend to bestow upon your own sex?\"\n\n\"I had already commenced,\" stammered Verbruggen--\"you see the\neagle. 'Twas perhaps somewhat vain.\"\n\n\"Vain! Oh! no; not at all. The eagle--a bird of prey and rapine,\nthe symbol of brutal tyranny--nothing could be fitter. Well, and\nwhat further do you intend?\"\n\nVerbruggen could find no reply.\n\n\"Well, then, listen,\" continued his wife, \"to render full justice\nto your sex, near the eagle you will place a fox, emblem of\ndeceit; a parrot, emblem of noisy chatter; a monkey eating\ngrapes, symbol of intoxication; and a jackdaw, emblem of silly\npride.\"\n\nVerbruggen executed her orders with a docility most edifying. The\npulpit was soon finished, and, fortunately for us, has been\npreserved intact through years of war and revolution. Higher\nteachings have been proclaimed from it, but to those who know its\nstory even its dumb wood speaks a salutary lesson.\n\n\"Ah sir!\" ejaculated the old sexton, when he had finished the\nstory of the pulpit, \"if I had known the history of that pulpit\nbefore I married a second time, I--\"\n\nJust then I came away.\n\n ----------\n\n The Future Of Ritualism.\n\n\nWe propose to devote a few pages to the consideration of\nRitualism and its probable future, because it is an interesting\nreligious movement which is of great importance to many souls,\nand because it seems to us to have reached its crisis. A writer\nin the _Churchman_ (an Episcopalian journal of Hartford,\nCt.) wonders that Catholics take such an interest in his\ncommunion and its members. \"Our bishops being no bishops,\" he\nsays, \"our clergy only decently behaved laymen, our laity a\nperverse generation whose only chance of salvation lies in the\ncharitable hope of their invincible ignorance, surely it is\nwasting powder and shot upon us to criticise our doings when we\nare thus only playing at being a church.\" It is certainly true\nthat in the eyes of the Catholic Church, and also of every\necclesiastical body which has the apostolic succession, the\nbishops of the Episcopal Church are no bishops, and the clergy\nare mere laymen.\n{829}\nIt is also true that the extreme High-Churchmen are \"playing at\nbeing a church.\" But cannot the writer understand our zeal for\nthe salvation of souls and our honest desire to help those whose\nreligion is only a logical farce? We assure him that if he does\nnot appreciate our sincerity, he does injustice to the feelings\nwhich should animate every Christian heart. We see that which\nevery intelligent and unbiased mind can see, a party in the\nEpiscopal Church holding opinions which are suicidal to every\nspecies of Protestantism, and which lead directly to the Catholic\nfaith, and we know that those who belong to this party cannot\nlong continue in their present position. They must come honestly\nforward to us, or go backward to lose what little faith they\nhave. Is it wonderful that for the love of Christ we beg them to\nbe truthful to their convictions, and manly in their profession?\nIs it strange that we attempt to show them that the doctrines\nthey profess to hold have no home in Protestantism, and that the\nchurch they pretend to venerate is only a fiction of their\nimagination?\n\nIn this spirit we write now a few words which will, we hope, fall\ninto the hands of Ritualists, and help at least some to the\nknowledge of the truth. Let us say at once, and in all candor,\nthat our sympathy is with the movement which is called Ritualism,\nand that from its beginning we have earnestly prayed to God to\nbless it to the conversion of many souls. We hope it will go on\nand prosper, and be truthfully developed; for we can think of\nnothing so fearful as \"playing church,\" when the question is one\nof salvation. There is, however, among some of the leaders of\nthis movement, a want of honesty and a direct untruthfulness\nwhich surprise us greatly. If this dishonesty be not wilful, it\nis owing to an obliquity of mind which it is hard to comprehend.\nThe object of this article is to show that Ritualism can have no\nstanding in the Episcopal Church, and that they who would\npropagate it had better lay down the weapons of insinuation and\nfalsehood and be brave enough to look the truth full in the face.\n\nThere is nothing gained by attempting to skulk away under the\n_general_ meaning of the name which the world has applied to\na particular signification. \"There can be no religion without\nexternal ceremonies, say the High-Churchmen, \"therefore,\nRitualism is proper and necessary.\" This argument is as\nfallacious as the following \"There is no man without a body,\ntherefore the negro is a necessity to the human race.\" The\nquestion, honest friends, is not whether the religion of Christ\ndemands ceremonies, but whether it demands the particular\nceremonies advocated at St. Alban's and other ritualistic\nchurches. And Ritualism does not mean the adoption of any rites\nin the service of God, but the use of the peculiar ones which are\nrecommended by the leaders of the movement in the Episcopal\nChurch. Why, then, not say so at once with manliness? A man will\nmake little progress in our day who is afraid to avow his creed.\n\nRitualism means a good deal more than mere rites and ceremonies.\nWe do not take our good friends who put on Catholic vestments as\nautomatons who are dressed up by the tailor to show off his art.\nThey are not so senseless as to play for the benefit of the\ndress-maker alone. There is doctrine beneath all this external\nritual which is intended to show forth the sacrifice of the mass,\nand the real presence of our Lord in the holy Eucharist.\n{830}\nIt includes the whole sacramental system, and the power of the\npriesthood. There is little outward distinction between the\ntenets of the Ritualists and the creed of the Catholic Church.\nThey may pretend to draw a line for the satisfaction of fearful\ndisciples, but really there is little difference. As far as we\ncan see, they are willing to accept our faith, so long as they\ncan enjoy it without submitting to the Catholic Church. They go\nto confession, and invoke the saints, and pray for the dead, and\nbelieve in the seven sacraments, and kneel devoutly before the\nbread and wine which they elevate for the adoration of the\npeople. \"You can have,\" said a leading Ritualist of this city,\n\"everything in the Episcopal Church which you can find in the\nCatholic communion, and why therefore should you go away from the\nfold in which you were born?\" We ought, therefore, to define\nRitualism as a movement toward the actual faith and worship of\nthe one church of Christ, which were rejected by all Protestants\nat the Reformation. This is its true definition before every\nhonest mind, and any attempts to hide under generalities, are\nattempts at deception. It will perhaps bring our remarks to more\nclear conclusions, if we show, first, that these doctrines which\nunderlie the whole movement can have no status in the Episcopal\nChurch; secondly, that any attempts at disguising the truth, only\ninjure the leaders in their enterprise; and lastly, from the\nindications of the present, conclude the future of Ritualism.\n\nLittle time need be spent to persuade any honest mind that the\nsacramental system can have no home in the Anglican communion.\nFirst of all, the great body of the people reject it, and can\nnever be made to accept it, while they say with sincerity that\nthey see no distinction between it and the teachings of the\nCatholic Church. If it be deemed worth while to profess\nsubstantially all the doctrines of Trent, why not undo the\nReformation and go back at once to the fold which their\nforefathers forsook? And, as Bishop Lee remarked at the opening\nof the late Episcopal Convention, what right had the church\norganized by Queen Elizabeth to set forth articles of faith, or\nin fact to be a church at all, if not on the Protestant principle\nof private judgment? The majority of Episcopalians have the\ngreatest possible aversion to anything that can be called\nRomanism, and will, as a body, never allow themselves to be\ncatholicised. In this country there is great liberty of speech,\nand great pretensions are easily tolerated; but when it is\nunderstood that such pretensions mean more than words, the spirit\nof Protestantism, which is the only living thing in the Episcopal\nCommunion, shows itself in full armor. Individuals daily come to\nthe one fold of Christ, but the body will never move from its\nhostile attitude. It will stand consistent to its own principle\nuntil the hour of dissolution. If any Ritualist doubts this, let\nhim actually practise all he preaches, and openly avow all he\nbelieves. His eyes will soon be opened sufficiently to see that\nthe antagonism between himself and his surroundings can never be\nremoved.\n\nOur friends, the High-Churchmen, are zealous upholders of church\nauthority; but where is the authority to which they submit? Their\nown church ought to be an authority to them, yet we find that its\ndecisions have no weight for their minds. The articles are\nagainst them, and every doctrinal judgment that has been made\nthroughout the history of the controversy is distinctly adverse\nto their views; yet they insist on holding on, and appealing from\nthe stern present to the impossible future.\n{831}\nThe thirty-nine articles are really the doctrinal standards of\nthe English Church and truly express the belief which formed and\nanimates their communion. When these articles are given up, if\nsuch an event should ever take place, the Episcopal brotherhood\nwill commit suicide and vote itself out of existence. These\nremarkable canons of doctrine condemn the whole sacramental\nsystem, deny any real presence of Christ in the blessed\nEucharist, and cut away, root and branch, any encouragement which\nthe Ritualists might find in the other portions of the\nPrayer-Book. Whatever authority therefore the Episcopal Church\nhas, is most decidedly against the unnatural children who profess\ngreat fondness for their mother, call her by great names which\nshe disowns, and still never obey her. We have before us a\ndeclaration of principles made in the year 1867, in which are\ncontained the very doctrines which the articles condemn, and\nwhich the bishops, whenever they have spoken, have rebuked. One\nsentence particularly pleases us by its great frankness and\namiable sincerity. \"We heartily and loyally _obey_ the\nauthority of our own particular church, receive _every one_\nof her doctrines, and adopt, as our own, her every act of\ndevotion.\" Article xxviii says, \"The sacrament of the Lord's\nsupper was not by Christ's ordinance reserved, carried about,\nlifted up, or worshipped.\" The declaration of these _loyal_\nchildren declares that \"Christ is _really present_ in the\nHoly Eucharist, and being present, is of course to be adored.\"\n\nNow, if the bishops of the Anglican communion have any right to\ndecide in litigated questions, they have spoken with sufficient\nplainness. The \"Catholic school\" in England has had a hard road\nto travel while one after another their favorite positions have\nbeen condemned. The last decision of the Privy Council is adverse\nto the ceremonies of Ritualism, and of course to the doctrines\nwhich underlie them. Twenty-eight bishops of the American\nEpiscopal Church have published an open protest against the new\nmovement, and the late Pastoral of the Convention reasserts the\nprinciples of the Reformation, denies the presence of our Lord in\nthe Eucharist, and concludes the subject by saying: \"We would\nmost earnestly deprecate those extravagances in Ritualism,\nrecently introduced, which tend to assimilate our worship to that\nof a church hostile to our own. And we must urge you to remember\nthat the reverent obedience to their bishops and other chief\nministers, promised by the clergy at their ordination, would, if\nfaithfully rendered, prevent these evils.\" We are not aware that\nanything more explicit be required by our friends who \"love their\nown particular church\" so well; but if the above be not enough,\nwe imagine they will not wait very long for something more.\n\nThe most painful feature, however, in this movement, is an\napparent want of truthfulness and a disingenuousness which are\ninconsistent with the earnest desire to know the faith of Christ.\nIt is very hard to comprehend the course of some of the leaders\nin this \"Catholic revolution,\" unless their aim be to maintain a\ncause without any regard for truth or justice. They are sometimes\nvery insincere in their condemnations of Romanism before the\npeople, when in their hearts they must see that they are making\ndupes of the ignorant.\n\n{832}\n\nA very vapid book has been handed to us, entitled\n_Conversations on Ritualism_. The Rev. Mr. Wilson\n(Ritualist) instructs Mr. Brown, and opens his eyes to see that\nthere is a pure Catholicity all unknown to Rome, and even to the\n(beloved) East, which is now about to revive and do wonders. Mr.\nBrown is informed that the American Church has not yet been put\ntogether. The elements of which it is composed are floating\naround; but so sure as the sun rises some bright day, the chaos\nwill be one beautiful scene of order and unity, when all shall\nthink alike, and the brilliant altars shall blaze with candles\nand smoke with incense. Now, Rev. Mr. Wilson \"doubts if there are\nmany of his bishops and priests who know more than the mere A, B,\nC, of the real question of the church worship.\" They will,\nhowever, be enlightened, because the world is to see the\n\"gorgeous Ritual without the doctrinal errors and corruptions of\nRome,\" and to take a \"pill which is not to be gilded.\" Puritanism\ncomes in for a terrible malediction. \"If ever an evil spirit has\nappeared on the earth, of such a character as to put men out of\npatience with its inconsistencies and absurdities, that spirit is\nPuritanism.\" O Puritanism, Puritanism, thou that abhorrest\npictures and flowers, stained glass and altar-cloths, thou that\nlovest whitewash and blank hard-finish, with what amazement shalt\nthou hereafter discern the glories of the heavenly city, the New\nJerusalem! \"This Puritanism is a very subtle and persistent\npoison; I have known it to crop out where least expected; I have\neven known of mitred heads which seem in some way turned by it.\"\nBut, bad as it is, it is not worse than Popery, which good Mr.\nBrown is taught to distinguish well from Ritualism. Then Rev. Mr.\nWilson, speaking _ex cathedra_, defines what this Popery is.\nIts errors are \"the cultus of the Blessed Virgin; adoration of\nthe cross, images, and relics; the doctrine of purgatory,\nTransubstantiation, Papal pardons, indulgences and dispensations,\nsupererogatory merits, and forbidding the clergy to marry.\" Pope\nWilson, who rejects the authority of Pius IX., pronounces these\ndoctrines and practices as grave errors. There can be no doubt,\ntherefore, of the clearness of his vision, and discussion were\nuseless and certainly inappropriate. But, behind the scenes, what\nis the practical difference between the Catholic doctrine\ncondemned, and the belief symbolized by the Ritualists? Mr. Brown\nhas gone home quite satisfied, and he will not hear our\nconversation, and we can afford to talk our honest convictions.\nThe cultus of the Blessed Virgin and the saints is nothing more\nthan the devotion which our friend, Mr. Mackonochie approves\nunder another name. Catholics do not _adore_ the cross, nor\nimages, nor relics. They treat them with veneration and religious\nrespect, and so do the Ritualists. Rev. Mr. Wilson prays for his\ndeparted friends, though for the world he would not say out loud\nPurgatory. Transubstantiation he does not accept, though he\nbelieves that the bread and wine are the body and blood of\nChrist, and to be adored with every outward symbol of devotion.\nPardons are very good in themselves, if the Pope has nothing to\ndo with them; and as for forbidding the clergy to marry, he would\nleave that an open question. Many of the Ritualists have evinced\na preference for a single life, and a desire even to establish\nconvents and monasteries. Mr. Brown is sleeping quietly on his\nProtestant pillow while Mr. Wilson prays before his crucifix, and\nis a Romanist at heart though not in name.\n{833}\nWe fear there are many Mr. Browns, and Madame Browns, and Misses\nBrown, who are likewise deceived. In religion we would prefer\nmore manliness and outspoken honesty. These _Conversations on\nRitualism_ are only an example of what we have often seen and\nheard with much pain. We have great hopes of any man who is\ntruthful; but when there is a desire to deceive, and an\nunwillingness to follow truth to its just conclusions, there is\nlittle chance for argument. But some of the Ritualists are as\nunfair toward their own church as they are toward us. It cannot\ncondemn them; for whatever language it may use, they will\ninterpret it to suit their own case. When Tract No. XC. appeared,\nthe entire English communion scouted its attempt to reconcile the\narticles with Catholic doctrine. Now, there is no difficulty in\nexplaining away every objectionable point and making those\nthirty-nine daggers inoffensive. The _Baptist Quarterly_\nsays: \"The twenty-fifth article declares, 'The sacraments were\nnot ordained to be gazed upon,' an unquestionable interdiction of\neucharistic adoration. But this, we are told, must mean that they\nare not to be looked upon without reverence and devotion. So\narticle twenty-eight says, 'The sacrament of the Lord's supper\nwas not by Christ's ordinance lifted up or worshipped.' This, it\nis said, may mean that elevation may not be practised, on the\nground of its being done by Christ's ordinance, but it may be\ndone on some other ground. What may be the casuistry of men who\ncan so defend their principles, it is difficult for minds\naccustomed to frank and straightforward actions to comprehend.\"\nIf the Privy Council forbids the practices of the Ritualists, the\n_Church Record_ tells us that \"they must indeed be\nshort-sighted who suppose that the disuse under compulsion of the\nritual expression of a doctrine will hinder it from being taught\nand believed.\" If the whole house of American bishops distinctly\ndeny any presence of the body and blood of Christ in the\nEucharist, and forbid any worship of the elements, on the ground\nthat Christ is not there, then these loyal churchmen are\n\"cheered,\" and take refuge under the incautious use of a term\nwhich in one sense might be objected to even by Catholics. Say\nthe bishops, \"Especially do we condemn any doctrine of the holy\nEucharist which implies that, after consecration, the proper\nnature of the elements of bread and wine does not remain; which\n_localizes_ in them the bodily presence of our Lord.\" The\nprelates meant to say that our Lord is not really in the\nsacrament, and had no idea of the theological objection which\nCatholic doctors might find to the use of the word localize. The\n_Catechism_ of the Council of Trent tells us that our Lord\nis not in the sacrament \"_ut in loco_\" that is, he is not\nlimited or circumscribed by the ordinary laws of quantity and\nextension. This is evident, because our Lord is present by\nmiracle and according to the conditions of his glorified\nhumanity. \"When the Pastoral is examined,\" says the\n_Churchman_, \"it turns out to be a denial of a physical or\ncarnal presence, which the writer (in _The Catholic World_)\nnot having the fear of the Council of Trent before his eyes,\ndeclares must be _local_.\" The Pastoral says nothing about a\nphysical or carnal presence, the precise meaning of which in\nhigh-church casuistry we do not know; but it denies any \"bodily\npresence.\" Now, if our Lord's body is there at all, there is a\nbodily presence, and that presence is localized, that is to say,\nhe is within the species of bread and wine.\n{834}\nTo use the words of St. Cyril, \"That which appears to be bread is\nnot bread, but the body of Christ; and that which appears to be\nwine is not wine, but the blood of Christ.\" It is hard for us to\nbelieve that the author of the above stricture on the Pastoral\nknows what he means himself. If by \"physical\" he means according\nto the ordinary laws of physics, he need not beat the air any\nmore. If by \"carnal\" he intends to say that our Lord is not in\nthe Eucharist, as when in the days of his sojourn on earth, he\nwas subject to all the natural conditions of flesh and blood, he\nwill find no adversary in the Catholic Church. The substance of\nthe bread and wine is changed into the substance of the body and\nblood of Christ, and he is in the Eucharist sacramentally, but as\ntruly and really as he is at the right hand of the Father in\nheaven. Two substances cannot coexist at one time in one and the\nsame space, and so, according to the plain definition of our\ncreed, the Incarnate Word is miraculously present, whole and\nentire in either form, and under every consecrated host in the\nworld. That the bishops meant to deny distinctly any true\npresence of Christ in the sacrament, is evident enough to any\nmind, and we cannot admire the candor of the writer who would try\nto escape from it by a quibble upon a word whose common\nacceptation is quite plain. The _Church Record_ would have\nus believe that anything can here be tolerated, provided you do\nnot use the word \"Transubstantiation.\"\n\nBut what shall we say of the following language taken from the\n_Churchman_? \"The Romish Church does not, comparatively\nspeaking, care one fig for transubstantiation, the celibacy of\nthe clergy, the employment of her particular liturgy and\nceremonial. She has sacrificed these for dominion in times past.\nShe will do it again. She will explain away transubstantiation,\nshe will admit the marriage of the clergy, she will make almost\nany other concession, if she can get her penny's worth in return.\nBut one thing she does care about, and that is the Pope's\nsupremacy.\" The author of this famous passage is unsafe in any\ncommunity, and ought to be continually watched by detectives. It\nis easy to write falsehood, and not very hard to speak it; but it\navails very little those who have the hardihood to use it. We\nhave come to the conclusion, from a long experience, that\nhigh-churchmen will never be driven from their ground by any\ndecisions of their own church, and that many of them are\nexceptions to the ordinary laws of humanity. They are\ninaccessible to reason. On this ground they will excuse us if we\npray the more earnestly for them, or endeavor to point out to the\nworld their wonderful inconsistency. They advocate a kind of\ninfallibility which, to be sure, is not within the reach of any\none, and yet when the Catholic Church is called infallible, they\nfind the very idea inconsistent with their reason. \"So long as\nRome keeps to itself, it is grand, imposing, and may pass for\npowerful. But when it appeals to argument and ventures into the\nprovince of reason, it admits the possibility of an adverse\nconclusion. Infallible men must not reason, they can only\npronounce.\" Perhaps it was a hoary head that indited these words\nin the _Churchman_, or it may have been a young and\ninexperienced warrior. Is there any objection to show the grounds\nof our faith to one who asks for them, and may not even the\nwriter of the above enter upon an argument to prove the existence\nof God, \"without admitting the possibility of an adverse\nconclusion\"?\n{835}\nIt is something new to us that we can only defend by argument the\nthings that we doubt. We do not reason on the _intrinsic_\ncredibility of the doctrine proposed to our belief, but upon the\nextrinsic evidence that God, the only revealer, really proposes\nthe doctrine. And we are quite ready to show to any honest mind\nthe proofs that the Catholic Church is the one and only church of\nGod. Nay, this has been done by our fathers and doctors from the\nbeginning. Every Catholic is infallible so far as his faith goes,\nbecause he relies upon the church which is infallible; but this\ndoes not prevent him from defending by reason the creed which he\nholds. The same luminous author asks if \"Rome will stand equally\nwell the daylight which will be let into her secret places.\" So\nalso the accusation has been made, that \"the Romish Church has\none set of doctrines for the public and another for the\ninitiated; that to converts she always showed her best face, and\ndid not reveal her true features until she had fairly caught them\nin her iron grasp.\" In reply to these nursery tales, meant for\ncrying children only, we say briefly that Rome has no \"secret\nplaces\" whatever; that the daylight shines in her, and through\nher; and that all she holds and teaches is in her catechism,\nwhich is taught to young and old. Any one who wishes to know her\ncreed can easily find it out, and it is as much in the possession\nof the unlettered peasant as it is of the learned philosopher. It\nis barely possible that they who write and speak such silliness\nas the above may be honest; but surely, if they are in their\nright minds, there is no excuse for their ignorance. Dear\nRitualists, when you wish to keep your friends or parishioners\nfrom going Romeward, pray tell the truth; for when they find out\nthat you have tried to deceive them, they will all the faster run\nfrom a system which cannot bear honesty and plain-dealing.\n\nThere is another point in which our good friends who like to call\nthemselves Catholics are manifestly either ill-informed or\ndisingenuous. They profess to see a great distinction between the\nschismatic Greek communion and the Catholic Church, and speak as\nif there were the slightest hope of any intercourse between\nthemselves and the Eastern sects. The separated Greeks are\ncertainly in a lifeless state, owing to their schism and their\nslavish subjection to the state; but their standards are as\ndecisive against Protestantism and the English pretensions as\neven the canons of Trent. To speak otherwise, and to represent to\nan unlettered person that there is any approximation between\nAnglicanism and the East, is only an attempt to deceive. The\nposition of the schismatic Christians of the East is quite simple\nupon our views of Catholic unity; but we venture to again urge\nour brethren of the Episcopal Church, to prosecute their\ninvestigations and do something more than pass resolutions such\nas are every year triumphantly carried at the sessions of the\nAmerican and Foreign Christian Union. \"Why not quietly wait,\"\nsays the _Churchman_, \"and let us be snubbed?\" We are quite\nwilling to wait; but in this day of telegraph and steam\nimprovements, may we not beg the committee to move a little\nfaster? In the mean time, we would place in their hands a little\nmanual, by Dr. Overbeck, a Russian priest, who speaks only the\nsentiments of his whole communion.\n{836}\nWe quote from the English edition of his work on Catholic\northodoxy. Speaking in the name of the Greek Church, he says in\nanswer to Dr. Pusey's _Eirenicon_, (page 97,) \"We do not\nwant your power nor your riches; these are no baits for us. We\nare content with our poverty and our pure faith, which nobody\nshall sully; and are we to commune with a church _so replete\nwith heresy_ as the English Church is! Are we to expose our\nonly treasure, our pure faith! You have installed heresy in your\npulpits; you do not cast it out; nay, you cannot cast it out,\nbecause your church is historically a Protestant Church, and\nProtestants framed your articles which you contrive in vain to\nunprotestantize. God forbid! _No communion with an heretical\nchurch! No communion with the English Church--it would be the\ngrave of orthodoxy_.\" Again, (page 89,) \"The Orthodox Church\ndoes not recognize the English Church to be _achurch_, in\nher own meaning of the word, any more than the Lutheran,\nReformed, or any other Protestant Church. If we, nevertheless,\nuse the term _church_ in the controversy, it is only a\nconventional mode of speaking, while disproving the fact, and\ndenying the truth of the underlaid idea.\" \"The English Church is\nnot, and never was recognized by any Catholic Church.\"\n\nFrom what we have seen, the prospects of Ritualism are not very\nbright. Whatever authority the Episcopal Church possesses will\nundoubtedly be used to prevent its growth and influence. It is\nquite certain that it can never be grafted upon the service or\ndiscipline of a communion whose very existence depends upon its\nProtestantism. The bishops are in a directly hostile attitude\ntoward the movement; and if some of them let it alone, it is,\nperhaps, because they think that it will the sooner die out.\nRitualists will go forward to a certain point, and High-Churchmen\nwill stand ungenerously behind to take any advantage of their\nsuccess, and to disavow all responsibility when the hour of\ntrouble comes.\n\nAfter a while, the whole revolution will cease, and while many\nwill become Catholics, others will return to indifference, and to\ngreater torpidity than at the beginning. Already there are signs\nof division among the movers in the drama. They are not agreed on\nthe question of quantity, some proposing to go much further\nRomeward than others are willing to follow. English Ritualists\nare dissatisfied with their American friends, and accuse them of\ncowardice or want of frankness. The bishops snub them at every\nopportunity, the powers of the state fall down upon them, and\nthey cannot come to any settled conclusion what to do. In this\ncountry they can act as they like, untouched by civil authority,\nand yet the whole land can boast of only one or two churches\nwhere ceremonies are carried out according to the code. It is\ndoubtful how long these churches can be supported on the\nvoluntary principle. Our own judgment is, that a few years will\nsee the end of a movement which ought to result in many\nconversions to the Catholic faith. If there were strict honesty\namong the leaders, we should be more hopeful; but when false\nstatements are constantly made, and the \"No Popery\" cry is held\nup as a blind by even the advance-guard who wear chasubles and\nhear confessions, what encouragement have we for the future? It\nis so easy to retrace one's steps and to look unconscious of all\nharm if the tide of battle turns. We know of more than one\nbishop, and many ministers in the Episcopal Church, who have\nrecanted their errors with more or less manliness, and are now in\nthe surgeon's tent, far away from all danger.\n{837}\nThe lawn-sleeves and the fair heritage have proved too much for\ntheir faith in things eternal. They who once were ready to accept\nall the decrees of Trent and utterly reject the articles of their\nown church, have become doctors of divinity, with large families\nof children, and the pangs of conscience have ceased. Monasteries\nwell organized have been broken up by the marriage of nearly all\nthe reverend monks, and communities of sisters have been\nseriously embarrassed by the drafts the clergy have made upon\ntheir number. We mention these facts in sorrow; for it is a sad\nproof of the inconsistency of man in matters of religion. Why\nshould we expect any more from the Ritualists than we have\nrealized from their cotemporaries or progenitors? Especially,\nwhen we behold among them a self-sufficiency and untruthfulness\nwhich have no parallel in ecclesiastical history, what shall we\ndare hope?\n\nThe Anglican communion can never be unprotestantized. It may in\nthe course of time fall to pieces, and every living moment within\nits bosom will help its dissolution. As a body, it never can take\nany Catholic position, nor wash off the birthmarks which prove\nits parentage.\n\nThose who really wish for a divine church and the rites which\nspeak the old unchangeable faith, will come one by one \"to the\npillar and ground of truth.\" Having tried shadows long enough,\nbeing wearied by \"playing at church,\" and tired of holding up a\nreligion by their own strength, they will come where God hath\nestablished his covenant in Zion and his mercy in Jerusalem. No\nhonest man can long hold the doctrine of the Real Presence and\nremain away from the altars where alone the Holy of Holies can be\nfound. No man can seek to confess his sins and often kneel to one\nwho is afraid to hear him openly, who presents at best a doubtful\ncode of morals, and plays, like a foolish child, with tools whose\nproper use he knows not. The end will soon come. The Catholic\nChurch would have perished long ago, if her life had not been the\nlife of God, and no counterfeit of her august creed can survive\nthe changes of time. Ritualism will pass away, and something else\nwill take its place. The Holy Spirit of truth speaks through this\nmovement to honest hearts who will hear and obey. Many are like\nthe young man in the gospel, who went away from Christ because\nthe sacrifice was too great. He was \"not far from the kingdom of\nGod,\" neither are our Ritualistic brethren far distant from the\nportals of the true Zion. God grant that they may be not\nunfaithful to the truth they know, nor lastingly unwilling in the\nday of the divine power.\n\n ----------\n\n{838}\n\n Ireland's Martyrs. [Footnote 292]\n\n [Footnote 292: _Memorials of those who suffered for the\n Catholic Faith in Ireland in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and\n Eighteenth Centuries_. Collected and edited from the\n original authorities.\n By Myles O'Reilly, B.A., LL.D.\n New York: Catholic Publication Society. 1869. 12mo, pp. 462.]\n\n\nThe Catholic Church in Ireland, oppressed from the days of the\nNorman invasion, became, from the time of Henry VIII., a living\nmartyr; her sufferings having no parallel in Europe from the time\nof the three centuries of persecution under the Roman emperors.\nIt was not so much the persecution and martyrdom of individuals\nso much as of a race and nation. Hence, while the _Acts of the\nEarly Roman Martyrs_, formally drawn up, have long since been\ncollected by Ruinart; while a Challoner, for England, collected\nrecords of the martyrs of the faith in his _Missionary\nPriests_, that all-absorbing favorite of our earliest days;\nwhile even the memorials of the missionary martyrs in our own\nland had been collected, no one seemed to think of selecting the\nrecords of Ireland's martyred priests from the harrowing tale of\nthe suffering and unconquerably faithful people amid whom they\nperished.\n\nIt has been well that this pious task has at last been\nundertaken, and so well accomplished. This work of Mr. O'Reilly\nis a plain, unvarnished collection of contemporary accounts, with\nno attempt to make, from the simple details given, a graphic and\naffecting picture. Brief, too brief, indeed, many of these\nrecords are; but further researches, unexplored archives,\ncorrespondence not hitherto consulted, will, we trust, ere long,\ngive more extended and edifying memorials of these faithful\nclergymen, these bishops, priests, secular and regular, of the\nIsle of Saints.\n\nDuring much of the period of the great Irish persecution, during\nthat long interval between 1540 and 1701 it was scarcely possible\nto draw up and send out of Ireland, much less preserve in it,\nextended accounts of the martyrdom of those who died for the\nfaith. Research or inquiry into their births or early lives was\nout of the question.\n\nThe chief sources where we can now seek information as to these\nheroic men are the historical writings of the religious orders\nwho labored in Ireland. Among the Franciscans, the great annalist\nof the order is Father Luke Wadding, an Irishman, who has\npreserved many valuable accounts relating to his native country.\nColgan, another Irish writer of the same order, in the preface to\nthe _Acta Sanctorum Hiberniae_, gives an account of the\ndeath of two of his literary associates, Fathers Fleming and\nWard.\n\nDe Burgo, of the order of Preachers, published a well-known work,\n_Hibernia Dominicana_, devoted to the history of his order\nin Ireland.\n\nThe Jesuit, Father Tanner, in his _Societas Jesu Militans_,\nrecords the lives of many of his order who died for the faith in\nIreland, and, in another work, not cited by our author, his\n_Mortes Illustres_, while treating of distinguished Irish\nmembers, enters into the persecutions of the church in their\nnative land.\n\n{839}\n\nThen there were special works on the various persecutions: the\n_Relatio Persecutionis Hiberniae_, by Father Dominic a\nRosario, published at Lisbon in 1655; Bruodin's _Propugnaculum\nCatholiae Veritatis_, issued at Prague in 1669; Bishop Rothe's\n_Analecta Sacra Nova et Mira de Rebus Catholicorum in Hibernia\npro Fide et Religione Gestis_, published at Cologne, in 1617,\nunder the assumed name of Philadelphus; and the _Processu\nMartyrialis_ of the same author, which appeared two years\nlater; the _Persecutio Hiberniae_, 1619; Morrison's\n_Threnodia Hiberno-Catholica, sive Planctus Universalis totius\nCleri et Populi Regni Hiberniae_, published at Innspruck, in\n1659; and Carve's _Lyra_, Sulzbach, 1666, with other works\nof more general scope.\n\nBesides these printed works, Mr. O'Reilly cites several\nmanuscripts preserved in the Burgundian Library at\nBrussels--_Magna Supplicia_, written about 1600; an account\nof the martyrdom of Bishop Dovany in 1612; Mooney's account of\nthe Franciscan Province in Ireland; and unpublished letters of\nIrish Jesuits.\n\nThe first blows at the Catholic Church in Ireland were struck\nunder Henry VIII. at the monasteries; then came the intrusion of\nmen, as bishops, who acknowledged that monster as head of the\nchurch, and the expulsion of those who refused to admit this new\npower in the crown. In the reign of his daughter Elizabeth came\nthe doctrine that the sovereign, provided always, nevertheless,\nthat he be not a Catholic, is not only head of the church, but\nempowered to make creeds and a ritual for worship. In a few\nreigns more came the doctrine that the Calvinists in a nation are\nthe head of the church and state, may behead kings, make and\nunmake worships and creeds, and put to death all who gainsay\nthem.\n\nThe persecution under Henry was comparatively bloodless; the\nplunder was too plentiful for men to stop to slay. Only one\ninstance is recorded--that of the beheading of the guardian of\nthe Franciscan convent at Monaghan, and of several of his friars;\nbut we can scarcely credit that under so sanguinary a tyrant so\nlittle blood was shed in Ireland, where no scruple ever held back\nthe English sword from slaughter, only a few Irish families or\nbloods being recognized as men whom to kill was murder.\n\nEngland had her illustrious martyr, Cardinal John Fisher, Bishop\nof Rochester; Ireland in her hierarchy had an illustrious\nconfessor in William Walsh, Bishop of Meath, a Cistercian, born\nat Dunboyne, and a monk in the Abbey of Bective, till its\nsuppression.\n\n \"Whatever doubt there may be about the place of his birth and\n his early history, there is none whatever as to his eminent\n virtues, distinguished abilities, and the heroic fortitude with\n which he bore numerous and prolonged sufferings for the faith.\n His unbending orthodoxy and opposition to the innovations of\n Henry VIII. and Edward VI. marked him out for promotion after\n the accession of Mary, and accordingly we find him associated\n with the zealous primate, Dr. Dowdall, in the commission to\n drive from the sanctuary all such as were faithless to their\n trust.\n\n \"Dr. Walsh was consecrated about the close of 1554, and\n immediately applied himself with zeal and energy to reform\n abuses, and to heal the wounds which during the last two reigns\n had been inflicted on faith, morals, and discipline. The period\n of his usefulness was, however, destined to be brief, and he\n had time merely to stimulate his priests and to fortify his\n diocese when the gathering storm burst over the Irish church,\n and sacrificed the Bishop of Meath among its first and noblest\n victims. Queen Mary died in 1558, and was succeeded by\n Elizabeth, who at once publicly embraced the reformed tenets,\n and proceeded to have them enforced on all. In 1560, an act was\n passed, under the deputyship of the Earl of Suffolk, which\n ordered all ecclesiastical persons, judges, officers, justices,\n mayors, and all the other queen's officers, to take the oath of\n supremacy under penalty of forfeiture, and also enacted that if\n any person should, by writing, printing, teaching, preaching,\n by express words, deed, or act, maintain any foreign spiritual\n jurisdiction, he should for the first offence forfeit all his\n goods and suffer one year's imprisonment, for the second\n offence should incur the penalty of praemunire, and for the\n third be deemed guilty of high treason.\"\n\n{840}\n\nHe was first imprisoned in 1560, and after a brief respite, was,\nin 1565,\n\n \"reconducted to his former prison; this was 'a subterraneous\n dungeon, damp and noisome--not a ray of light penetrated\n thither; and for thirteen years this was his unvarying abode.'\n During all that time his food was of the coarsest kind, and,\n with the exception of rare intervals, when the intercession of\n some influential friends obtained a momentary relaxation, he\n was allowed no occupation that could cheer the tedium of his\n imprisonment. In all this lengthened martyrdom, prayer was his\n resource, and, as he himself subsequently avowed, he\n often-times passed whole days and nights overwhelmed with\n heavenly consolations, so that his dungeon seemed transformed\n into a paradise of delights. To preclude the possibility of\n idleness, he procured a bed made of twisted cords, and\n whensoever his mind was fatigued with prayer, he applied\n himself to untie those cords, and often was he well wearied\n with the exertion before he could reunite them to compose\n himself to sleep.\n\n \"His persecutors, overcome by his constancy, and finding his\n fervor in spiritual contemplation a continual reproach to their\n own wickedness, at length, about Christmas, 1572, connived at\n his escape.\"\n\nReaching the continent, he died at Alcala, in 1577, bearing to\nthe grave the marks of his thirteen years' imprisonment.\n\nNext in importance among the sufferers for the faith was a most\nremarkable man, David Wolf, a native of Limerick, a priest of the\nSociety of Jesus, whose labors, perils, sufferings of every kind,\nwhile acting as nuncio to the Pope in Ireland from 1560 to 1578,\nform the matter for a most interesting volume--not only from the\npersonal interest attaching to a man of his ability, learning,\nand courage, but from the influence exercised by him in\nperpetuating the episcopacy, and, consequently, the priesthood\nand the faith in Ireland. The first martyr of whom we have any\ndetails is the Franciscan, Daniel O'Duillian, of the convent of\nYoughal, put to death in 1569. Indictment, trial, judge, or jury\nseem to have had no part in his cause. Father Mooney thus\ndescribes his death as he obtained authentic information within\nfifty years after its occurrence:\n\n \"When one Captain Dudal (probably Dowdall) with his troop were\n torturing him, by order of Lord Arthur Grey, the viceroy, first\n they took him to the gate which is called Trinity Gate, and\n tied his hands behind his back, and, having fastened heavy\n stones to his feet, thrice pulled him up with ropes from the\n earth to the top of the tower, and left him hanging there for a\n space. At length, after many insults and tortures, he was hung\n with his head down and his feet in the air, at the mill near\n the monastery; and, hanging there a long time, while he lived\n he never uttered an impatient word, but, like a good Christian,\n incessantly repeated prayers, now aloud, now in a low voice. At\n length the soldiers were ordered to shoot at him, as though he\n were a target; but yet, that his sufferings might be the longer\n and more cruel, they might not aim at his head or heart, but as\n much as they pleased at any other part of his body. After he\n had received many balls, one, with a cruel mercy, loaded his\n gun with two balls and shot him through the heart. Thus did he\n receive the glorious crown of martyrdom the 22d of April, in\n the year aforesaid.\"\n\nSimilar disregard of all law and forms of justice appears in the\nterrible martyrdom of the Franciscan Father O'Dowd, who died like\nSir John Nepomucen, a martyr of the seal of confession.\n\nWith some other prisoners, he fell, in 1577, into the hands of\nthe soldiers of Felton, then president of Connaught.\n\n{841}\n\n \"They pressed a certain secular, who was one of their captives,\n to tell them something of the plots which they said he had made\n with others against the queen of England; but he protested he\n could tell nothing but the truth, and that there were no plots;\n so they determined to hang him. When they said this, he begged\n he might be allowed to make his confession to Father O'Dowd;\n this they granted the more readily that they thought the\n priest, if he were tortured, would reveal what might be told\n him. As soon as the confession was over, the secular was hung;\n and then they asked the priest, who was also to be hung, if he\n had learned aught of the business in confession. He answered in\n the negative, and, refusing to reveal anything of a confession,\n they offered him life and freedom if he would reveal, and\n threatened torture if he refused. He answered he could not, and\n they immediately knotted a cord round his forehead, and,\n thrusting a piece of wood through it, slowly twisted it so\n tightly that at length, after enduring this torment for a long\n time, his skull was broken in, and, the brain being crushed, he\n died, June 9th, 1577.\"\n\nFather Mooney recorded this horrid statement from the lips of\nsome of the very soldiery who perpetrated it.\n\nWhen Dr. Patrick O'Hely, Bishop of Mayo, and his companion,\nFather Cornelius O'Rorke, were arrested in the County Kerry, soon\nafter landing, they were loaded with chains and imprisoned in\nLimerick till Sir William Drury arrived.\n\n \"The two prisoners were first placed on the rack, their arms\n and feet were beaten with hammers, so that their thigh-bones\n were broken, and sharp iron points and needles were cruelly\n thrust under their nails, which caused an extreme agony of\n suffering. For a considerable time they were subjected to these\n tortures, which the holy confessors bore patiently for the love\n of Christ, mutually exhorting each other to constancy and\n perseverance.\n\n \"At length they were taken from the rack, and hanged from the\n branches of a neighboring tree. Their bodies were left\n suspended there for fourteen days, and were used in the interim\n as a target by the brutal soldiery.\"\n\nHere began, it will be seen, a sort of process, or at least\narraignment, torture, and execution; although anything like a\ntrial is wanting.\n\nBut in the fearful deaths of Rev. Daniel O'Nielan, (March 28th,\n1580,) Rev. Maurice Kinrehan, Rev. Maurice Scanlan, and his\ncompanions, [Footnote 293] in the same year, no pretence of\nexamination was made; the soldiery either killing them on the\nspot, or wreaking on them any and every cruelty that wanton\nmalignity could devise or suggest.\n\n [Footnote 293: These three in 1580, and the three\n Franciscans, of the same names, nearly and at the same places\n in 1582, must be identical.]\n\nIn the case of the heroic Cistercian, Abbot of Boyle, Father\nGelasius O'Quillenan, and his companions, arrested while in\nDublin, in 1580, there was not the wanton cruelty of lawless\nsoldiers, or the mere bloodthirstiness of officers accustomed to\nevery barbarity. Here the action proceeded from the very highest\nEnglish authority in Ireland, in the days of Lord Coke, who tells\nus in those legal treatises which have come down to us as\noracles, that he never knew of torture having been used in\nEngland.\n\nThe abbot and his companions underwent preliminary examinations.\n\n \"John O'Garvin, then Protestant Dean of Christ Church, was\n among those who assisted at his first interrogatory, and,\n having proposed many inducements to the abbot 'to abandon the\n popish creed,' Gelasius in reply, reproved him for preferring\n the deceitful vanities of this world to the lasting joys of\n eternity, and exhorted him 'to renounce the errors and iniquity\n of heresy by which he had hitherto warred against God, and to\n make amends for the past by joining with him in professing the\n name of Christ, that he might thus become worthy to receive a\n heavenly crown.' The holy abbot and his companion were then\n subjected to torture, and, among their other sufferings, we\n find it commemorated that their arms and legs were broken by\n repeated blows, and fire was applied to their feet. The only\n words of Gelasius during all this torture were, 'Though you\n should offer me the princedom of England, I will not forfeit my\n eternal reward.' Sentence of death being passed against them,\n they were led out with all possible ignominy to execution.\n They, however, were filled with consolation; the sight of the\n joyous sufferers excited the admiration of the assembled\n multitude, and many even of the heretics declared that they\n were more like angels than men.\n{842}\n It was on the 21st November, 1580, that they were happily\n crowned with martyrdom. The garments which they wore, and the\n implements of their torture, were eagerly purchased by the\n Catholics, and cherished by them with religious veneration.\"\n\nNor can it be said that in the use of torture thus used to wring\nfrom the Irish clergy admissions to justify their execution, the\nauthorities in Dublin acted without the knowledge or consent of\nthe queen. Any such pretext is at once scattered to the winds by\nEnglish records in the case of one of the most illustrious\nmartyrs in the whole honored list of Ireland's witnesses for the\nfaith--Dermod O'Hurley, Archbishop of Cashel.\n\n \"The birthplace of this glorious martyr was a little village in\n the diocese of Limerick, less than three miles from that city,\n called Lycodoon, where his parents lived respectably by\n farming, both of tillage and cattle; they were held in good\n estimation by their neighbors, both rich and poor, especially\n James Geraldine, Earl of Desmond.\n\n \"Having then been raised to the episcopacy by Gregory XIII.,\n and named Archbishop of Cashel, he took his route toward\n Ireland.\"\n\nAt Waterford he was detected by a Protestant named Baal, on whose\ninformation he was pursued to the Castle of Slane, where he had,\nindeed, taken refuge for a time, but had proceeded further. When\nLord Slane found himself in danger, he joined in the pursuit of\nthe archbishop, and, overtaking him at Carrick-on-Suir, induced\nhim to proceed to Dublin, where his arrival is noted by\nArchbishop Loftus and Sir H. Wallop, in a letter to Robert Beale,\ntemporary chief secretary to the queen, dated Oct. 8th, 1583, and\nstill preserved in the Public Record Office in London. In a\nsubsequent letter, on the 10th of December, addressed to Sir\nFrancis Walsingham, they say: \"Among other letters directed to\nus, and brought by this last passage, we received one from your\nhonor declaring her Majesty's pleasure for the proceeding with\nDr. Hurley by torture or any other severe manner of proceeding to\ngain his knowledge of all foreign practices against her majesty's\nstate, wherein we _partly_ forebore to deal till now.\" Then\nthey remark, \"for that we want here either rack or other engine\nof torture to terrify him ... the Tower of London should be a\nbetter school than the Castle of Dublin ... we do wish that we\nhad directions to send him thither.\"\n\nThe pretext here was shallow; there was wit enough in the\ndominant party in Ireland to invent any necessary racks.\nWalsingham evidently directed them to proceed in Dublin, and\nhimself suggested the mode of torture. On the 7th of March, 1584,\nthey again write, \"We made commission to Mr. Waterhouse and Mr.\nSecretary Fenton to put him to the torture _such as your honor\nadvised us_, which was, to toast his feet against the fire\nwith hot boots.\" What these Walsingham boots were, we learn from\ncontemporary statements taken down from eye-witnesses. \"The\nexecutioners placed the archbishop's feet and calves in tin boots\nfilled with oil; they then fastened his feet in wooden shackles\nor stocks, and placed fire under them. The boiling oil so\npenetrated the feet and legs that morsels of the skin and even\nflesh fell off and left the bone bare. The officer whose duty it\nwas to preside over the torture, unused to such unheard-of\nsuffering, and unable to look upon such an inhuman spectacle, or\nto hear the piteous cries of the innocent prelate, suddenly left\nhis seat and quitted the place.\" (Pages 91-2.) All this failed to\nextort from him anything to justify his arraignment even, though\nthe torture was continued till the executioners believed life\nextinct, and hastily endeavored to restore animation; for he\n\"lost all voice and sense, and when taken out lay on the ground\nlike dead.\" (Ib. 93.)\n\n{843}\n\nThe lords justices were in great perplexity. The judges, on being\nconsulted, had positively declared that, as no act of treason had\nbeen committed by him in Ireland, he could not by law be\narraigned. Their opinion, still preserved in the Public Record\nOffice, is given by our author, (p. 109.) Again they apply to\nWalsingham, and the whole passage is so curious that we cite it\nat length:\n\n \"And herein we thought good to remember your honor by way of\n our opinion that, considering how _obstinate and wilful_\n we find him every way, if he should be referred to a public\n trial, his _impudent and clamorous_ denial might do great\n harm to the ill-affected here, who in troth have no small\n admiration of him. And yet, having had conference with some of\n the best lawyers in the land, we find that they make a scruple\n to arraign him here, for that his treasons were committed in\n foreign parts, the statute in that behalf being not here as it\n is in England. And therefore we think it not amiss (if it be\n allowed of there) to have him executed by _martial law,\n against which he can have no just challenge_, for that he\n hath neither lands nor goods, and as by that way may be avoided\n many harms, which by his presence, standing at ordinary trial,\n and retaining still his former impudence and negative\n protestations, he may do to the people.\"\n\nThe idea of any man impudently objecting to submit to the honor\nof being executed by martial law, when a trial at law must result\nin his acquittal, is indeed extraordinary, and sufficient to\ndisquiet Christian rulers.\n\nElizabeth relieved them. A letter of April 29th, 1584, announced\nher majesty's resolution for the course to beholden with Hurley,\nnamely, \"that they should proceed to his execution (if it might\nbe) by ordinary trial by law, or otherwise, by martial law.\"\n\nLoftus and Wallop, accordingly, on the 19th of June, 1584, gave\nwarrant to the knight-marshal in her majesty's name to do\nexecution upon him.\" (Letter July 9th, 1584.)\n\nAccordingly, on Friday before Trinity-Sunday, Hurley--whose\nwounds had been so skilfully treated by a Jesuit who was enabled\nto reach him, as to enable the holy sufferer to regain sufficient\nstrength to sit up and even rest on his feet--was ordered to\nprepare for execution. He was taken out at early dawn, amid the\ncries of his fellow Catholic prisoners, proclaiming his\ninnocence, one bishop, who was expiating in fetters a guilty\npusillanimity, exclaiming that he himself, for the scandal he had\ngiven, deserved to die, but that the archbishop was an innocent\nand holy man. He was drawn on a hurdle through the garden gate to\na wood near the city, and \"there he was hanged on a withey,\ncalling on God, and forgiving his torturers with all his heart.\"\nAt evening his body was buried in the half-ruined church of St.\nKevin. So great was the veneration felt for this holy man, that\nthe church was restored to satisfy the devotion of those who\nflocked to the spot to recommend themselves to his prayers, and\nmany of whom averred that miracles were wrought there.\n\nElizabeth and the ministers of her godless tyranny, in thus\ntrampling on law and justice, had gained nothing toward the\nadvancement of the new doctrines in Ireland. The death of Dr.\nHurley but confirmed the Irish Catholics more immovably in the\nfaith.\n\n{844}\n\nIn another case, Dr. Richard Creagh, Archbishop of Armagh, who\nescaped from the Tower of London in 1565, but, after two years'\nlabors in Ireland, was seized in Connaught in 1567, the\ngovernment ventured on a trial at law; but the jury acquitted\nhim. Little did this avail: he was kept a prisoner, but at last\neffected his escape, and, for a short time, labored to console\nthe afflicted Catholics. Falling again into the hands of the\npersecutors, he was sent to England, and died of poison in the\nTower of London, (Oct. 14th, 1585,) leaving one of the most\nvenerated names in the annals of the Irish church. Another\nprelate, Murlagh O'Brien, Bishop of Emly, died the same year in\nprison, at Dublin, after undergoing tortures.\n\nThe interesting biography of another martyr, Rev. Maurice\nKinrechtin, gives a picture of a Catholic Easter during these\ndark ages in Ireland that is too touching to omit. It is in a\nletter from Father Robert Rochfort:\n\n 'I send you an account of the glorious martyrdom of a friend of\n mine, Maurice Kinrechtin, a pious priest, chaplain to the Earl\n of Desmond, whom you know. He was for this cause taken prisoner\n by the English, and taken to your native town of Clonmel, where\n he lay in prison for more than a year. On the eve of Easter,\n 1585, Victor White, one of the principal citizens of Clonmel\n and a pious Catholic, obtained from the head jailer permission\n for the priest to pass the night in his house; this the jailer\n agreed to, but secretly informed the President of Munster, an\n English heretic, who chanced to be in the town, that, if he\n wished, he might easily seize all the principal citizens while\n hearing mass in the house of Mr. White at daybreak; at the same\n time he bargained to be paid for his perfidy. At the hour\n agreed on, the soldiers rushed into the house and seized on\n Victor; but all the others, hearing the noise, tried to escape\n by the back-doors and windows; a certain matron, trying to\n escape, fell and broke her arm. The soldiers found the chalice\n and other things for mass; they sought everywhere for the\n priest, (who had not yet begun the mass,) and came at length to\n a heap of straw, under which he lay hid, and, thrusting their\n swords through it, wounded him in the thigh; but he preserved\n silence, and, through fear of worse, concealed his suffering,\n and soon after escaped from the town into the country. But the\n intrepid Victor (who, although he had for this reason suffered\n much, could never be induced to attend the conventicles of the\n heretics) was thrown into prison because he would not give up\n the priest, and would, no doubt, have been put to death, had\n not Maurice, hearing of the danger of his friend, voluntarily\n surrendered himself to the president, showing a friendship\n truly Christian. The president upbraided him much, and, having\n sentenced him to death, offered him his life if he would abjure\n our Catholic faith and profess the queen to be head of the\n church. There came to him also a preacher, and strove long, but\n in vain, to seduce the martyr; nor would he on any account\n betray any of those who had heard his mass, or to whom he had\n at any time administered the sacraments. At length he was\n dragged at the tail of a horse to the place of execution as a\n traitor. Being come there, he devoutly and learnedly exhorted\n the people to constancy in the faith. The executioner cut him\n down from the gallows when yet half alive, and cut off his\n sacred head, and the minister struck it in the face. Then the\n Catholics by prayers and bribes obtained of the executioners\n that they should not lacerate his body any further, and they\n buried it as honorably as they could. Farewell, and peace in\n the Lord, and be ye imitators--if occasion offers--of the\n courageous Maurice Kinrechtin, and till then prepare your souls\n for the trial. Your devoted servant, dated from the College of\n St. Anthony, 1586, 20th March, Robert Rochfort.\"\n\nThus it went on during the reign of Elizabeth. The year 1588\nwitnessed many hanged, drawn, and quartered--the Rev. Peter\nMiller, at Wexford; Peter Meyler, at Galway, and Maurice\nEustace--both candidates for the priesthood, the Franciscan\nfathers, O'Molloy, Dogherty, and Ferrall, at Abbeyleix. The next\nyear another of the same order at Clonmel.\n\nCurry, in his _Civil Wars in Ireland_, thus sums up other\nexamples:\n\n{845}\n\n \"John Stephens, priest, for that he said mass to Teague McHugh,\n was hanged and quartered by the Lord Burroughs, in 1597; Thady\n O'Boyle, guardian of the monastery of Donegal, was slain by the\n English in his own monastery; six friars were slain in the\n monastery of Moynihigan; John O'Calyhor and Bryan O'Trevor, of\n the order of St. Bernard, were slain in their own monastery, De\n Sancta Maria, in Ulster; as also Felimy O'Hara, a lay-brother;\n so was AEneas Penny, parish priest of Killagh, slain at the\n altar in his parish church there; Cahill McGoran; Rory\n O'Donnellan; Peter McQuillan; Patrick O'Kenna; George Power,\n vicar-general of the diocese of Ossory; Andrew Stritch, of\n Limerick; Bryan O'Murihirtagh, vicar-general of the diocese of\n Clonfert; Doroghow O'Molowny, of Thomond; John Kelly, of Louth;\n Stephen Patrick, of Annaly; John Pillis, friar; Rory McHenlea;\n Tirilagh McInisky, a lay-brother. All those that come after\n AEneas Penny, together with Walter Fernan, priest, died in the\n Castle of Dublin, either through hard usage and restraint or\n the violence of torture.\"\n\nTo whom may be added the Rev. George Power; Rev. John Walsh;\nBishop Brady, of Kilmore, and his companions, whose sufferings\nare here most touchingly given; the Rev. Donatus O'Mollony, so\ntortured by iron boots and thumbscrews, as well as the rack--of\nall which there was now, apparently, a full supply in\nIreland--that he died a few hours after.\n\nBut single executions were not prompt enough. In 1602, the\nauthorities intimated that such of the clergy as presented\nthemselves to the magistrates would be allowed to take their\ndeparture from the kingdom. Forty-two, secular priests and\nfathers of the Dominican and Cistercian orders, believing that a\nProtestant government would keep faith with Catholics, accepted\nthe offer, and assembling, as directed, at Inniscattery, were put\non board a vessel of war to sail for France. But no sooner had\nthey reached the broad Atlantic, than the whole of these priests\nwere thrown overboard. On the return of the vessel to port, great\nindignation was pretended by the authorities, and the queen\ncashiered the officers; while they were, in fact, secretly\nrewarded.\n\nThis martyrdom, fearful for its treachery, and the number of the\npriestly victims, closed, so to say, the reign of bloody\nElizabeth. The hatred of Catholicity was intense; but yet there\nwas apparent from first to last, a sense of respect for the\nopinion of the Catholic powers, an attempt to justify the\nexecutions by color of law, or excuse them as unintended acts of\nseverity in putting down revolts or conducting military\noperations.\n\nWhen the son of Mary, herself a martyr and sufferer, ascended the\nthrone, his accession was hailed by the Catholic Irish with a\nburst of joy. A prince of their own race, they could regard him\nwith feelings never awakened by former sovereigns of England. The\nmemory of his mother would have bound them to him. He might have\nrendered Ireland a happy country. Led away by this vision, the\nIrish Catholics openly celebrated the long proscribed worship;\nbut they soon were rudely awakened from their delusion. The\nglorious army of martyrs under James I. begins with Redmond\nO'Gallagher, Bishop of Derry, hacked to pieces by a party of\nhorse in 1604.\n\nAmong all the martyrs of this reign, however, the most\nillustrious was Cornelius O'Dovany, Bishop of Down and Connor,\nput to death at Dublin, February 1st, 1611. At an early age he\nembraced the rule of St. Francis, and became a model of piety and\npatience. Raised to the perilous dignity of the episcopate, he\nlabored strenuously to fulfil its duties. At last, he was\narrested and sent to Dublin Castle, where he nearly perished from\nwant of food and of all comforts. As the persecutors admitted\nthat they could not legally compass his death, he was at last\nreleased. But it was only for a time. Seizing as a pretext his\npresence in the district held by the Earl of Tyrone in his rising\nagainst the crown, they again, in June, 1611, committed him to\nhis former prison. He was then brought to trial, and, although he\npleaded the Act of Oblivion, which clearly covered his case, the\ngovernment, grown wiser in its malice, packed a jury, and\nobtained a verdict.\n\n{846}\n\nOur author thus describes his martyrdom from contemporary\nnarratives:\n\n \"The 1st of February, at four o'clock in the afternoon, he was\n called to mount the cart which, surrounded by guards, stood at\n the prison door. When the holy bishop came in sight of that\n triumphal chariot, he sighed and said, 'My Lord Jesus, for my\n sake, went on foot, bearing his cross, to the mountain where he\n suffered; and must I be borne in a cart, as though unwilling to\n die for him, when I would hasten with willing feet to that\n glory? Would that I might bear my cross and hasten on my feet\n to meet my Lord!' Turning to his fellow-sufferer, Patrick, he\n said, 'Come, my brave comrade and worthy soldier of Christ, let\n us imitate his death as best we may who was led to the\n slaughter as a sheep before the shearer. Then bending down and\n kissing the cart, he mounted up into it, and sat down with his\n back to the horses, and was thus drawn through the paved\n streets to the field where the gallows was erected.\n\n \"Cornelius, when he was come to the place of sacrifice, being\n solicitous for the constancy of his colleague, begged that\n Patrick might be put to death first; for he feared lest, by the\n sight of his death and the wiles of the Calvinists, Patrick\n might be induced to yield to human weakness. But as his wish\n would not be granted, Father Patrick assured the bishop he\n might lay aside all fear for him. 'Though,' said he, 'I would\n desire to die first, and be strengthened in my agony by your\n paternal charity, since we are given up to the will of others,\n go, happy father, and fear not for my constancy; aid me by your\n prayers with God, by whose help I am sure that neither death\n nor life, nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor\n things to come, nor any other creature, shall separate me from\n the love of Christ, or from my companionship with you.'\n Rejoiced at these words, Cornelius threw himself on his knees,\n but had only breathed a hasty prayer (which yet reached God in\n heaven) when the councillors, the captain and guard called out\n to make an end quickly. The field, situated to the north of the\n city, which would easily hold 3000 persons, was crowded. The\n executioner was an Englishman and a Protestant, (for no\n Irishman could be found who would stain himself with the blood\n of the bishop,) who was condemned to death for robbery, and was\n promised his life for acting as executioner on this occasion.\n Yet, though he had thus purchased his life, he was touched with\n reverence and compassion for the gray hairs of the bishop, and\n prayed his pardon, and with trembling hands adjusted the noose.\n The moment the bishop mounted the first step of the ladder, and\n his head was seen above the crowd, a great shout and groans\n burst from all the spectators.\n\n \"Then the minister Challoner, furious at the cries of pity\n raised by the people, said to the bishop: 'Why delude ye the\n ignorant people? Why end ye your life with a lie, and a vain\n boast of martyrdom? Tell the multitude that ye are traitors,\n and that it is for treason and not for religion ye suffer.' To\n these unjust words the bishop answered: 'Far be it from us, who\n are about to appear before the tribunal of Christ, to impose\n upon the people. But also far be it from us to confess\n ourselves guilty of crimes of which our conscience tells us we\n are innocent. Nor yet do we vainly ambition the title of\n martyrs, though for us to die for Christ is gain. You know that\n you are yourself guilty of that prevarication of which you\n accuse us; for but a few hours ago, sent as you said by the\n viceroy, you offered us life and freedom if we would subscribe\n to your heresy. Leave us, then, son of darkness, and calumniate\n not our innocence.'\n\n \"Then the minister departed and left the martyrs in peace. As\n they mounted the middle of the ladder, again there rose the cry\n of the people; and a third time, when he was about to be thrown\n off, the groans of those who beat their breasts rose louder\n than before. Thrice he prayed, as he stood there: once for all\n the bystanders; secondly, for the city of Dublin, and all the\n Catholics of this kingdom, that they may serve God piously,\n faithfully, and perseveringly; a third time he prayed for all\n heretics, and for his persecutors, that they might be converted\n from the evil of their ways.\n\n \"The Bishop's head was hardly cut off when an Irishman seized\n it, and, rushing into the centre of the crowd, was never found,\n although the viceroy offered a reward of forty pounds of\n silver. The Catholics gathered up his blood, and contended for\n his garments, despite the resistance of the soldiery.\n{847}\n The priest Patrick followed the same road, singing, as he\n mounted the ladder, the canticle of Simeon, 'Now, O Lord!\n dismiss thy servant in peace,' and, after the example of the\n bishop, he prayed for the bystanders, blessed them, and\n forgave all his enemies. The rope being put round his neck, he\n hung for a short time, was then cut down half alive,\n mutilated, and cut in pieces. The soldiers, warned by the loss\n of the bishop's head, resisted the unarmed crowd, who strove\n to catch the martyr's blood and other relics, and wounded\n many. The day after, the bodies were buried at the gallows'\n foot, but in the stillness of the night were removed by the\n Catholics to a chapel.\"\n\nWe cannot enter on the other sufferers of this reign whose\nrecords are carefully collected in the _Memorials_.\n\nThe reign of Charles I. opens with the deeply interesting life of\nFrancis Slingsby, showing how, even amid all the terrible\npersecutions of the church, God called his own elect to the light\nof his truth, and endowed them with firmness. He was a son of Sir\nFrancis Slingsby, an English knight settled in Ireland, and was\nborn in 1611. After being educated at Oxford, he travelled on the\ncontinent, and at Rome was converted to the faith; and, at the\ntomb of St. Aloysius, firmly resolved to enter the Society of\nJesus. At the earnest entreaty of his father and mother, he\nreturned to Ireland; but after an interview with Archbishop Usher\nand Lord Strafford, he was thrown into prison. Cardinal Barberini\nexerted his influence with the queen of England, and, in May,\n1635, he was admitted to bail. His stay in Ireland was not\nfruitless; for he converted his mother, his younger brother, his\nsister, and several others. This increased his dangers, and, the\nGeneral of the Society urging him to come at once to Rome, he\nproceeded thither in 1636; but learning that his friend Spreul,\nwhom he had converted, and won to the order he himself had\nchosen, had been struck down by disease, he returned to Ireland,\ntended him in his illness, and then both reached Rome in 1639.\nRenouncing all his worldly prospects in favor of his brother, he\nbegan his studies, and, after his ordination, entered the\nnovitiate of the Society of Jesus in 1641; but died at Naples\nbefore he could return to Ireland to labor in the field where his\nwords, example, and fetters had preached so eloquently. The\nsketch of this heroic young man, and that of Maurice Eustace, son\nof Sir John Eustace, and a novice in the Society of Jesus, who,\nreturning to his family by permission of his superiors, was\nseized, tried, hung, drawn, and quartered, on the 9th of June,\n1588, form a most interesting addition to our biographies, and\nshow us in Ireland, two young imitators of St. Aloysius and St.\nStanislaus, whose virtues and example can be held up to the young\nwith the power that flows from the fact that they lived among\nscenes and trials so familiar to us.\n\nWhen the civil war began between the Puritans and Charles I., the\npersecution, bitter already under the king, became fiendish under\nthe Parliament. Hitherto some form, some limit, had been\nobserved; but the Puritans revelled in blood with all the\nferocity of tigers, and with as little scruple.\n\n \"The Parliament of England resolved, on the 24th of October,\n 1644, 'that no quarter shall be given to any Irishman, or to\n _ayn papist born in Ireland;_' and their historian,\n Borlase, adds, 'The orders of Parliament were excellently well\n executed.' (_Hist, of Rebellion_, p. 62.) Leland and\n Warner refer to the letters of the lords-justices for the fact\n that the soldiers 'slew all persons promiscuously, not sparing\n even the women.' Cromwell declared on landing in Dublin that no\n mercy should be shown to the Irish, and that they should be\n dealt with as the Canaanites in Joshua's time. It is impossible\n to estimate the number of Catholics slain in the ten years from\n 1642 to 1652. Three bishops and more than 300 priests were put\n to death for the faith.\n{848}\n Thousands of men, women, and children were sold as slaves for\n the West Indies; Sir W. Petty mentions that six thousand boys\n and women were thus sold. (_Political Anatomy of\n Ireland_, p. 187.) A letter written in 1656, quoted by\n Lingard, puts the number at 60,000; as late as 1666 there were\n 12,000 Irish slaves scattered among the West Indian Islands.\n (Letter of Rev. J. Grace, written in 1669, ap. Moran, p. 147.)\n 40,000 Irish Catholics fled to the continent, and 20,000 took\n refuge in the Hebrides and other Scottish islands. (Moran, p.\n 99.) In a word, as Sir W. Petty writes, the population of\n Ireland in 1641 was 1,466,000, of whom Catholics were about\n 1,240,000; in 1659, the whole population was only 500,091, of\n whom Irish were only 420,000, so that very nearly or quite one\n million must have perished. (Sir W. Petty, _Polit. Anat._\n p. 13, ap. Moran, and Hardinge's _Census of 1659_.)\"\n\nIn this general and fearful slaughter of priest and people,\nrecords were impossible; and of many of the priests and religious\nwho perished no trace remains. At the sight of such appalling\nmassacres the mind shrinks back to seek refuge in doubt; but that\ndoubt vanishes before the records of the butchers, who, reeking\nwith slaughter, asked mankind to admire their work as a mercy of\nGod, and even in our day, their descendants ask us to praise them\nas champions of religious freedom.\n\nWe can scarcely be accused of being too severe in our language\nwhen Merle d'Aubign\u00e9, a professed eulogist of Cromwell, admits\nthat he used \"a greater severity than had perhaps been exercised\nby the pagan leaders of antiquity.\"\n\nAlthough, necessarily, for many of their victims there are no\ndetails whatever, nevertheless nearly one-fourth of this whole\nwork of Mr. O'Reilly is devoted to memorials of those who\nperished by the hands of the Puritans in the brief period of\ntwenty years; and he might well close it by the formula at the\nend of each day in the Roman martyrology, _Et alibi aliorum\nplurimorum Martyrum et Confessorum_, etc.--\"And elsewhere of\nmany other martyrs and confessors,\" whose names, though\nunrecorded on earth, are written in the Book of Life. Cromwell,\nIreton, Inchiquin, and Coote marked their path in blood.\nDrogheda, Wexford, Cashel, Limerick, witnessed general massacres,\nwhere neither age nor sex could rouse a spark of human feeling in\nthe insatiate butchers. The intense and cruel fanaticism seems to\nhave been either a diabolical possession or a mental disease.\n\nA grandson of Sir Charles Coote, become Earl of Bellomont, was,\nsome years after, made Governor of New York and of New England,\nand was strongly suspected of complicity in the piracies of\nCaptain Kidd. He certainly showed the fierce anti-Catholic spirit\nof his father and grandsire, having introduced and forced\nthrough, both in New York and Massachusetts, laws to punish with\nimprisonment for life, or, on recapture, with death, any Catholic\npriest entering those colonies.\n\nAmong the more illustrious martyrs we notice the Most Rev.\nMalachy O'Queely, Archbishop of Tuam, who was overtaken at Clare,\nnear Sligo, in 1645, by some Puritan cavalry. They hacked off his\nright arm, and then cruelly mangled his body, cutting it into\nsmall pieces. In 1650, Boetius Egan, Bishop of Ross, a holy\nFranciscan friar, appointed to that see in 1647, on the\nrecommendation of the Nuncio, Rinuccini, left the retreat in\nwhich he had been hidden for months, to visit some distant and\nabandoned parts of his diocese, although Ludlow's Puritan bands\nwere laying waste the country. After performing the apostolic\nduties that had called him forth, he was returning to his lonely\nhiding-place, when he was overtaken by a troop of horse hastening\nto join Cromwell in besieging Clonmel.\n{849}\nThe commander of this troop, Lord Broghill, whom our readers may\nnot recognize as Robert Boyle, subsequently Earl of Orrery,\noffered him life,\n\n \"If he would deny his faith and join the Parliamentarians, but\n he rejected the temptation with disdain. He was then abandoned\n to the soldiers' fury, and, his arms being first severed from\n his body, he was dragged along the ground to a neighboring\n tree, and, being hanged from one of its branches by the reins\n of his own horse, happily consummated his earthly course in\n November, 1650.\"\n\nThe fall of Limerick enabled Ireton to revel in the blood of\nCatholic priests. The martyrs were led by Terence Albert O'Brien,\nBishop of Emly, born in Limerick in 1600, and nurtured piously by\na devoted mother. At an early age he entered the order of St.\nDominic, and, after pursuing his studies in Spain, returned to\nlabor in his native city. In 1643, he became provincial of his\norder, and attended a general chapter at Rome. Four years\nafterward, he was consecrated Bishop of Emly, and labored there\nearnestly till he joined the rest who took refuge in Limerick.\n\n \"Knowing the fate that was reserved for him, Dr. O'Brien\n retired to the pest-house, in order to devote the last hours of\n his life to the benefit of his suffering fellow-citizens, and\n to preparing himself for death. Here he was found by the\n officers sent to arrest him, and brought before Ireton, who\n told him he was to be tried by a court-martial, and imprisoned\n till the sentence was pronounced. The bishop heard this\n unmoved, and when asked did he want counsel, calmly replied\n that all he required was his confessor. This boon was granted,\n and Father Hanrahan, a member of his own order, was suffered to\n pass the whole day and night of the 30th of October in his\n prison. On the following evening he was led out to execution,\n and, as Father Hanrahan related, walked as joyfully to the\n place as to a feast. His contemporary, De Marinis, relates his\n execution thus: 'He went with joy to the place of execution,\n and then, with a serene countenance, turning to his Catholic\n friends, who stood in the crowd inconsolable and weeping, he\n said to them, \"Hold firmly by your faith, and observe its\n precepts; murmur not against the arrangements of God's\n providence, and thus you will save your souls. Weep not at all\n for me, but rather pray that in this last trial of death I may,\n by firmness and constancy, attain my heavenly reward.\" The head\n of the martyr was struck off and placed on a spike on the\n tower,' ('which is on the middle of the bridge.'--_A\n Rosario_,) 'and long after seemed to drop fresh blood, and\n uncorrupted and unchanged in aspect, flesh, or hair--a tribute,\n as may be thought, to that virginal purity which it is\n universally believed he preserved to the end.' Thus he went to\n his reward, on the vigil of All Saints', 1651. De Marinis and A\n Rosario relate that the holy bishop summoned Ireton to the\n judgment-seat of God to answer for his crimes; and on the 18th\n day afterward that bloody persecutor was seized with the\n plague, and, after sixteen days, expired in great torments. Dr.\n Moran mentions that the spot where this holy bishop was\n martyred is yet pointed out and venerated by the Catholics of\n Limerick.\"\n\nAnother Dominican martyr of this scene, Father James Wolf,\n\n \"was an old man, and preacher-general, who had before been a\n long time in prison for the faith, and in this last persecution\n was as a wall against the enemies of the faith. He was taken in\n Limerick while offering the mass, and in a few hours afterward\n was sentenced to be hung, and brought out into the market\n square, where he made a public profession of his faith, and\n exhorted the Catholics to constancy in the religion of their\n ancestors, and that with so much ardor that it moved his very\n enemies. Standing on the top step of the ladder, and about to\n be swung off, he joyously exclaimed, '_We are made a\n spectacle to God and angels and men--of glory to God, of joy\n to angels, of contempt to men._' Having said this, he was\n hung, and so went to his crown.\"\n\nIt is a strange fact, and one that we must regret, that England\nshould owe the final conquest of Canada to one who should have\nhonored this martyr of his family, but who was really intensely\nEnglish, and rivalled Ireton by his bloody march up the St.\nLawrence, butchering priests at their own church doors with as\nlittle compunction as Ireton felt for Father James Wolf.\n{850}\nThat martyr had a brother George, an officer in the Irish army.\nAlthough doomed, he managed to escape, and reaching England,\nfinally settled in Yorkshire. His grandson Edward fought under\nMarlborough, and rose to the rank of general. His son, a namesake\nof the Limerick martyr, was General James Wolfe, who died in the\narms of victory at Quebec, having struck the blow that seemed to\ncrush for ever Catholicity in Canada.\n\nAnother bishop, Arthur Magennis, a Cistercian, Bishop of Down and\nConnor, was, in spite of his infirmities and years, dragged on\nshipboard, to be carried to some other land. Death was, however,\nthe object of his tormentors, not exile: and, as he lingered too\nlong to please their impatience, they dragged one of the ship's\ncannon beside his berth, and, firing it, caused such a shock to\nthe invalid that he expired.\n\nThe clergy who suffered met death in every form. Some perished of\nstarvation in the mountain, like the Rev. John Carolan; some were\nstarved to death in prison, like the Dominican father, John\nO'Laighlin; some, tracked to their hiding-places, were shot in\ntheir caves, like the Franciscan father, Francis Sullivan; some\nwere stoned to death, and flung into rivers, like the Dominican\nfather, John Flaverty; many cut down by the roadside, or shot and\nhacked to pieces, like Stephen Pettit, the Dominican fathers,\nPeter Costello, Dominic Neagan, Lawrence O'Ferral; others more\ndeliberately hanged on sea or land, like the Franciscan fathers,\nFergal Ward, Denis Nelan, Rev. Peter Higgins, the Dominican\nBonaventure de Burgo, and many more; or drowned at sea, like the\nTrinitarian fathers O'Conor and Daly; or tied to stakes and shot,\nlike the Jesuit, Father Bathe, and his brother at Drogheda.\n\n \"Of the many thousands of Irish men, women, and children who\n were sold into slavery in the West Indies, the names of very\n few have been preserved. Among these was Father David Roche,\n Dominican. Full details of this infamous traffic are given by\n Prendergast, _Cromwellian Settlement_. Thus, a government\n order, published on March 4th, 1655, states that, in the four\n preceding years, 6400 Irish, men and women, boys and maidens,\n had been disposed of to the English slave-dealers. On the 14th\n September, 1653, two English merchants, named Selleck and\n Leader, signed a contract with the government commissioners, by\n which a supply was granted to them of 250 women and 300 men of\n the Irish nation, to be found within twenty miles of Cork,\n Youghal, Kinsale, Waterford, and Wexford. Roger Boyle, Lord\n Broghill, (afterward Earl of Orrery,) deemed it unnecessary to\n take such trouble in visiting different parts of the kingdom,\n and undertook to supply the whole number from the county of\n Cork alone; hence he received an order empowering him to search\n for and seize upon that number, 'and no person, being once\n apprehended, was to be released but by special order in writing\n under the hand of Lord Broghill. In the month of November,\n 1655, all the Irish of the townland of Lackagh, county of\n Kildare, were seized on by the agents of the government. They\n were only forty-one in number, and of these four were hanged by\n sentence of court-martial; the remaining thirty-seven,\n including two priests, were handed over to Mr. Norton, a\n Bristol merchant, to be sold as bond-slaves to the\n sugar-planters at the Barbadoes.' Again, on the 8th December,\n 1655, we find a letter from the commissioners to the Governor\n of Barbadoes, 'advising him of the approach of a ship with a\n cargo of proprietors, deprived of their lands, and seized for\n not transplanting.' They add that among them were three\n priests, and the commissioners particularly desire that these\n may be so employed that they may not return again where that\n sort of people are able to do so much mischief, having so great\n an influence over the popish Irish.\"\n\n{851}\n\nOf their sufferings at sea our author gives no record; but\nAnderson, in his _History of the Colonial Church_, (ii. p.\n52-3,) describes, from a petition to Parliament, the sufferings\nof English prisoners \"crowded into close holds amid horses,\"\n\"sold, on arriving, to the most inhuman persons,\" and treated\nworse than beasts; \"sleeping in styes, worse than hogs in\nEngland, and many other ways made most miserable beyond\nexpression of Christian imagination.\" And nothing in the annals\nof history will justify the supposition that the Irish fared\nbetter.\n\nDuring long examinations of early records and manuscript matter\nrelating to the colonies which formed the American Union, no\nallusion has met our eye relating to any of these priests sold as\nslaves in America by the Puritans. It is doubtful, therefore,\nwhether any ever reached our shores. But it seems to us that\nresearches will yet lead to some clue or trace in the West India\nIslands, that favorite mart for the Puritan slave-dealers, who\nsold alike there the Irish Catholic, or the Christian or Pagan\nIndian of New England. It is, however, a curious fact that the\nfirst victim of the witchcraft excitement in New England was one\nof the Irish slaves, a poor woman, who though able to repeat the\nLord's Prayer in Latin and Irish, failed to pray in the to her\nunknown English tongue, was adjudged a witch, and put to death.\n\nOf the Irish transported to St. Christopher's we find some\naccount in the Jesuit Father Peter Pelleprat's _Relation des\nMissions des P\u00e8res de la Compagnie de J\u00e9sus dans les Isles et\ndans la Terre Ferine de l'Am\u00e9rique M\u00e9ridionale_, (Paris,\n1655.) Part of the island belonged to the French, and Father John\nDestriche (Stritch?) an Irish member of the Society, was sent in\n1650, to the boundary. His long-forsaken countrymen flocked\naround, braving all dangers from their cruel task-masters; and he\nspent three months hearing confessions, baptizing, instructing,\nconsoling and fortifying with the sacraments these poor exiles.\nHe then, in the disguise of a merchant, visited Montserrat, which\nwas, for a time, an independent Irish isle, and so laid down on\nmaps, and where even the negroes spoke Irish. But, at this time\nof Puritan rule, the English had reduced them to slavery. Here he\nraised a little chapel in the depth of a forest, and the Irish\nevery day, under pretext of cutting wood, made their way to the\nspot, and, after giving the day to religion, cut some wood to\ncarry back.\n\nReturning to St. Christopher's, he found the English renewing the\npersecution. One hundred and twenty-five of the most fervent\nCatholics were carried off and set ashore on the barren island of\nCrabs or Boriquen. Here some undoubtedly perished of starvation;\na few reached St. Domingo, but, on the refusal of the Spaniards\nto receive them, managed to find transport to Tortugas, then in\nthe hands of the French.\n\nFather Destriche then collected all the Irish he could, and\nconveyed them to Gaudeloupe, making excursions from time to time\nto bring in others to swell this settlement; and visiting in\ndisguise the various English islands.\n\nNo allusion is made to any priest among these exiles; but this\nfather was not probably alone. Research in this field may yet\nenlarge the touching memorials which Mr. O'Reilly deserves so\ngreat credit for presenting to us.\n\nThe persecution may be said to close with the Puritan rule;\nArchbishop Plunkett, whose life is well and concisely given,\nhaving been a victim to the infamous fiction of plots in the\nreign of Charles II., and brought to the scaffold by the false\ntestimony of men of his own country and faith.\n\n{852}\n\nThe last of the martyred clergy was the Dominican Father Gerald\nGibbon, sub-prior of Kilmallock, killed by some of William III.'s\nroving cavalry at Listuahill, in the County of Kerry, in 1691.\n\nMr. O'Reilly has done an excellent work. The records of the lives\nand deaths of these illustrious men should be familiar to all\ntheir countrymen, not to excite feelings of hostility and\nvengeance against the descendants of the wrong-doers; for, as in\nthe case of Wolfe, the later generations fall away at times, and\nthe priest we revere may trace his descent from a persecutor. But\nthe lives of these martyrs remind us in these days of insidious\nprosperity, that we should struggle as manfully against the\npersecution of religious indifference as they did against the\npersecution of rack, and sword, and halter, and show that we deem\nthe religion they died for worthy of a life of love and\nsacrifice.\n\n ----------\n\n De Profundis.\n\n O weary, weary heart, O fainting soul!\n Thy struggle is in vain;\n The fiery waves of woe that o'er thee roll\n O'erwhelm with fiercest pain.\n There is for thee no rest, for thee no peace\n Till thought and mem'ry, life itself shall cease.\n\n \"Rest for the weary\"--words that flatteringly\n Promise thy heart relief;\n The words of peace are meaningless to thee,\n They mock thy endless grief.\n Think not thy soul from further woe to save,\n Seek not for rest, or seek it in the grave!\n\n ----\n\n Sweet rest, sweet peace. O Jesu! thou canst give\n E'en in my mortal woe;\n Thou bidst my struggling, dying soul to live,\n And lead'st me gently through\n The waves that dash against my tired feet,\n To fields of living green and verdure sweet.\n\n Jesu! sweet Jesu! in my darkest hour\n On thee alone I call;\n Though waves may dash and dark'ning skies may lower,\n And raging storms appall,\n I heed them not--I look beyond, above,\n And find my refuge in thy Heart of Love!\n\n K. A.\n\n ----------\n{853}\n\n From La Semaine Liturgique De Poitiers.\n\n The Legend Of St. Michael And The Hermit.\n\n \"Consummatus in brevi, explevit tempera multa.\"\n --_Book of Wisdom_.\n\n\nA poor but venerable hermit, wearing the habit, sandals, and cord\nof St. Francis of Assisi, travelled, from dawn till the going\ndown of the sun, over the flowery highways of verdant Normandy,\npassing through boroughs and villages, castles and towers. Was he\na palmer from the Holy Land, come to rekindle the ardor of noble\nand valiant men of arms with tales of the woes of the Christians\nin Palestine? No, the times of Philip Augustus and Louis IX. had\npassed away. Yet our hermit kept steadily on, allowing himself\nnot a day of rest but the Lord's day, seeking some one or\nsomething.\n\n\"What art thou seeking, pious traveller? Thy ardor is greater\nthan that of a knight-errant longing to break a lance in honor of\nthe fair lady whose color he wears.\"\n\n\"I am seeking a soul,\" replies the hermit, \"because St. Michael\nthe Archangel has made known to me that a throne in the eternal\nmansions awaits some soul from earth, a throne of dazzling\nbeauty, resplendent with sapphires and diamonds, and the golden\npalms of the heavenly Jerusalem. But the soul thus summoned to a\nthrone on high must not be _too young_.\"\n\n\"Keep on thy way. Old men are to be found in every country on the\nearth.\"\n\nAnd the hermit kept on his way from the earliest dawn till\neventide. At last he finds an aged abbot beneath the Gothic\narches of an old Benedictine abbey. His reputation for sanctity\nand his great age, which was fourscore years, made our pilgrim\nhope that he had found the object of his search. So, on Sunday,\nafter the hour of lauds, the hermit joyfully offered St. Michael,\non bended knee, the name of the venerable abbot, with an account\nof his exemplary life; but, in the evening, after the hour of\ncompline, the archangel said unto him, \"Continue thy search. The\nabbot Fulgentius, worthy as he is, merits not this high reward.\nThat servant of the Lord is still _too young_.\"\n\n\"He is fourscore years of age, of which sixty-four have been\nspent in the monastic state and in the same monastery.\"\n\n\"He has not yet lived twenty years as years are reckoned by the\nguardian angels. Pursue thy way, good hermit, and continue thy\nsearch.\"\n\nAfter three months the pilgrim worn by fatigue and prolonged\nvigils joyfully brought four names to St. Michael. It will be\nunderstood that these names were chosen from among thousands by\nthe zealous pilgrim. The first bright name on the list was that\nof a Lord of Falaise, illustrious through his ancestors, and\nstill more so for his own charity. His castle with its square\ntowers, surrounded by crags, deep moats, and high walls, was\nalways hospitably open to all pilgrims and strangers as well as\nto the unfortunate. There he himself waited upon them at table,\nafter having washed their feet with his own hands, count and\nbaron as he was, and he never suffered them to depart till he had\ngiven them alms and chanted the divine office with them in the\nnave of his chapel of St. Prix.\n{854}\nA numerous progeny reverenced him, and all his vassals proclaimed\nhis fatherly kindness. What more could be asked that he might\nexchange his feudal power for a throne in heaven?\n\nThe second on the list was the mother of fifteen children, seven\nof whom served their king as brave soldiers, seven others served\nthe altar as priests or monks, and the remaining one, a daughter,\nhad many children, who were reared under the careful and vigilant\neye of their grandmother of pious renown. What more could be\nasked that she might pass from family honors to a throne in\nheaven?\n\nThe third was a noble warrior of the Knights of Malta, covered\nwith wounds and scars gained in the service of God. Having been\nmade, at the age of thirteen years, knight of his order and page\nof the grand master, he was appointed, at the age of twenty-two,\nto the command of three war-vessels which he armed at his own\nexpense. He made himself formidable to all the Turks on the seas\nof the Levant. Being appointed captain of one of the galleys of\nMalta, our knight took twenty-two vessels from the paynim and\ndelivered many thousand Christian slaves. The Emir Fraycardin,\nwho held sway over the Druses of Mount Lebanon, and boasted of\nhis descent from Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, conceived so high an\nesteem for him that he came forth from the town of Sayeda to\nvisit him on board of one of his vessels, and on that occasion\ngave him a scimitar from Damascus, with a scabbard of wrought\nsilver, inlaid with diamonds and rare pearls, which our hero\npresented to the king of France, in presence of the same emir of\nillustrious memory.\n\nThe escutcheon of our knight bore a chevron gules, on a field or,\ncharged at the bend with a flower-de-luce or, and surmounted by\nthe silver cross of the Order of Malta. [sic]\n\nHe seemed truly endowed with valor and sanctity, which made up\nfor want of age, for he was only twenty-nine. What more could be\nasked that he might pass from the midst of combats to the bosom\nof everlasting peace, and from the triumphs of victory to a\nglorious throne in heaven?\n\nFinally, the fourth name was that of a widow, like the prophetess\nAnna, who departed not from the temple of Jerusalem, by fasting\nand prayers serving God day and night. Like her, she was devoted\nto good works, to the care of the sick, the help of the infirm,\nand the charge of orphans. She was called \"the eye of the blind,\"\nand \"the consolation of the afflicted,\" and throughout old\nNeustria with its green orchards the echoes of the manor-houses\nand the huts alike knew of the wondrous deeds of good Dame Lois.\n\nProud of all these names, the hermit at the early hour of lauds\npresented the list to St. Michael; when evening had brought the\nhour of compline, the holy chant being ended, St. Michael gave\nback to the hermit the precious paper, all perfumed with the\nincense of paradise, and said to him: \"Faithful servant, continue\nthy search: all these names are dear and precious in the eyes of\nGod; but they who bear them are still too young.\"\n\n\"But the sire of Falaise has seen almost a hundred years pass\nover his now bald head, and his beard is whiter than the snows of\nMount Saint Bernard!\"\n\n\"That noble lord of a hundred years is only reckoned fifteen by\nthe calendar of the guardian angels,\" replied the archangel.\n\n{855}\n\n\"But this mother of fifteen children and twelve grandchildren who\nare her crown and her glory? ... And the pious widow?\"....\n\n\"The mother will only be eight years old come the festival of the\nAssumption of Our Lady, her holy Patroness; and the pious and\nchaste widow is hardly older than the sire of Falaise.\"\n\n\"And the Knight of Malta? Illustrious and brave above his\nfellow-knights, he is only twenty-nine years old according to the\nrecord of his baptism; but these few years have been well\nemployed in defending Christendom against the infidel Turks who\ntremble before his Damascus blade.\"\n\n\"The knight has made progress, it is true, in the way of real\nlife. He is almost old enough to reign; but his guardian angel\ndemands yet a space of time before imprinting on his soul the\nseal of the eternal and heavenly life. Go thy way, and continue\nthy search.\"\n\nThe hermit, in the silence of his cell, was terrified to see how\nhard it was to attain length of years according to the reckoning\nof the angels; but he redoubled his zeal to discover the rare\ntreasure demanded by St. Michael. Seven Sundays having passed\naway weeping and praying in the undercroft of the church of St.\nGerbold, shepherd of Bayeux, of learned memory, he saw the\narchangel with his sword of gold coming toward him resplendent\nwith light. Troubled in the depths of his heart, the hermit said\nto him humbly: \"I have only one name to present thee, and this\nname offers but little that is worthy of relating; yet I lay it\nbefore thee.\" And he held forth the paper wet with his tears to\nSt. Michael, who took it, smiling meanwhile on the trembling\nhermit.\n\nThe paper had hardly been placed in the angel's hands when the\nsombre crypt was filled with a soft light; an unknown perfume\nembalmed the air, and the hermit, almost ravished with ecstasy,\nat once understood that the chosen one so long sought after was\nat length found. ...\n\nThe elect soul rose like a blue vapor above the tower of the\nchurch, above the lofty mountains, beyond the stars: it rose\nluminous and full of majesty, till it came to the courts of the\nNew Jerusalem to take its place upon the dazzling throne awaiting\nit among the angels.\n\n\"How old, then, is this soul according to the calendar of eternal\nlife?\" were the first words addressed St. Michael by the hermit,\nstill on his knees.\n\nAnd St. Michael graciously replied: \"This saint was only\ntwenty-one years old according to the reckoning on earth, but he\nwas a hundred by that of the guardian angels who watch over\nsouls. Not one hour of his short life was lost for eternity. It\nwas not only not lost, but--which is necessary to attain length\nof years that are meritorious and venerable in our eyes--not one\nhour failed to be reckoned twice or thrice, and sometimes a\nhundredfold, by the merit of his deeds of faith, hope, charity,\nand mortification. Nothing is lost which is pleasing in the eyes\nof the Lord. A glass of water given with love in his name becomes\na majestic river flowing on for ever and ever; while a treasure\ngiven without love or from human motives is counted as nothing in\nthe great Book of Life! To really live, thou must love God while\nexiled here below, as we love him in the home of the blessed.\nThou must also love thy neighbor, whose soul reflects the image\nof its Maker.\"\n\nWith these words the angel disappeared, leaving behind him a long\ntrain of light in the dim vaults of the crypt of St. Gerbold.\n\n{856}\n\n\"O Lord!\" cried the hermit \"grant me a true knowledge of the\nChristian life--the only life really worth the name--that at my\nlast hour I may not hear resounding above my head the terrible\nwords, _Too young!_ Teach me, O my God! the value of time,\nwhich is only given us that we may lay up treasures for heaven.\nTime is the money of eternity! time is the price of the Saviour's\nblood! time, so fleeting, which we seek to kill, and which will\nsurely kill us; time, the inflexible tyrant who spares no one!\nOh! that I might in turn triumph over time by making it serve to\nthe sanctification of my soul and the winning of an eternal\ncrown.\"\n\n ----------\n\n New Publications.\n\n\n Dissertations, Chiefly On Irish Church History.\n By the late Rev. Matthew Kelly, D.D.\n Dublin: James Duffy. 1869.\n\nRev. Matthew Kelly, a canon of his native diocese of Ossory,\nIreland, and a Professor in Maynooth College, was one of the most\naccomplished of the contemporaries of Dr. John O'Donovan,\nProfessor Eugene O' Curry, George Petrie, Rev. Dr. Todd, Very\nRev. Dr. Renehan, and the few other truly great Irish scholars of\nthe past and passing generations. He was a native of Kilkenny\nCity, and was barely in the forty-fourth year of his age when\ncalled to his reward, Saturday, October 30th, 1858. He was a very\nable writer on and investigator of Irish history, in all its\nbranches, particularly in the ecclesiastical and ethnological\nlines, of which his editorial labors for the Celtic and\nArchaeological Societies of Dublin, his editions of White's and\nO'Sullivan's writings relative to Ireland, as well as of the\nMartyrology of Tallacht, and his contributions to the Dublin\n_Review_, Duffy's _Catholic Magazine_, the London\n_Rambler_, etc., etc., have given abundant proof. He is more\nwidely known by general readers through his remarkable\ntranslation of Gosselin's great work, _On the Power of the Pope\nduring the Middle Ages_. His friend and fellow-laborer, Rev.\nDr. McCarthy, has collected from the periodicals named, chiefly\nfrom the _Dublin Review_, into this volume--for a copy of\nwhich we are indebted to the Catholic Publication Society--\nseveral dissertations by the lamented Dr. Kelly, chiefly on Irish\nchurch history--an examination of which makes us deeply regret\nthat he was not spared to complete the labors in which he was\nengaged, and which he had in contemplation at the time of his\ndeath--which included nothing less desirable than a new and\nthorough edition of the _Acta Sanctorum_ of Colgan; a new\nedition and a continuation of Rev. Dr. John Lanigan's\n_Ecclesiastical History of Ireland_; and the completion of\nthe publication, under such care as he was capable of bestowing,\nof the Very Rev. Dr. Renehan's _Collections on Irish Church\nHistory_. The volume before us should find a place in every\nprivate as well as public collection that aims to have\nrepresented in it the genuine scholarship of Ireland.\n\n ----\n\n A Few Friends, And How They Amused Themselves.\n A Tale in nine chapters; containing descriptions\n of twenty Pastimes and Games and a fancy-dress party.\n By M. E. Dodge, author of Hans Brinker and\n the Irvington Stories.\n Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.\n\n{857}\n\nThe author in this little book makes a happy effort to revive\namongst us again those pleasant, home-like games that give such a\ncharm to the fireside. Many of these pastimes are new, and all of\nthem interesting and amusing, requiring enough thought and wit to\nkeep one's faculties in pleasant activity. Society, it is true,\nwill scarcely condescend to be amused in so simple and cheerful a\nway; but as it is a question whether it is ever heartily amused,\nwe can very well afford to set aside its ruling, and enjoy\nourselves with the pleasant pastimes of our \"Few Friends.\" A\npicture-gallery, such as is described in its pages, although it\nmight not provoke such artistic and wonderful criticisms as the\nAcademy of Design, would not yet fail to be very amusing. The\ngreat charm of these games, as the author remarks in her preface,\nis the bringing together the old and young, in the common pursuit\nof pleasure.\n\n ----\n\n A Short Grammar Of Plain Chant,\n for the use of schools, seminaries, and\n religious communities.\n Troy, New York: P. J. Dooley. 1868.\n\nIt is with the sincerest pleasure we meet with any evidences of a\ndesire to return to the use of the Gregorian chant in the offices\nof the church. Perfectly rendered, we know of no modern\ncompositions in figured music which can equal it in fitness or\ngrandeur. The best that can be said of timed music is, that it is\npleasing; that its varied harmonies delight the ear; and that in\nthe most worthy of such compositions there are pathetic, joyous,\nand at times sublime expressions. But of the Gregorian chant only\ncan it be said that it edifies, compels to prayer and praise, and\nnever hints at the world, the flesh, or the devil. Like the\nsacred vestments of the priest and the solemn ceremonies of\nCatholic worship, it is a part of the outward expression of the\nchurch's homage to God. It is the befitting song of the\nsanctuary, and we are thankful the church has never sanctioned\nany other.\n\nTo sing Gregorian chant as it should be sung is a science of its\nown; a fact not a few of our musicians appear to be ignorant of;\nand although the present little handbook does not pretend to be a\ntreatise on the subject, yet it may perhaps be found, in the\npresent state of our knowledge, a work better adapted to our\nwants than a more extended and philosophical treatise would be.\n\nIt is a first book on chant for beginners, and gives in a concise\nform all the preliminary notions upon which a further study may\nbe based. The author has divided it into three parts: the first\ntreating of the notation of plain chant; the second, of the\nstructure and peculiarities of the modes or tones; and the third,\nor psalmody.\n\nA convenient appendix has been added containing the different\nintonations for High Mass and the Divine Office. The whole will\nbe found in strict conformity with the Roman Missal and Office\nBooks, a matter which we deem of no slight consequence. The\nauthor, we observe, has followed the ordinary method (a faulty\none, we think) in the matter of the division of the Psalm tones\nand the corresponding adaptation of the words. According to the\nsystem commonly adopted in our choir-books and in works on plain\nchant hitherto published in this country, the different\nmediations and cadences would require at least four different\ndivisions or pointings of the Psalms. In fact, the rules laid\ndown by all masters in Gregorian chant for accentuation and the\nadaptation of dactylic and monosyllabic words require only one\npointing of the Psalms for all the tones and their various\nconclusions. We think this important point can be demonstrated,\nalthough it would be out of place here.\n\nAs a book of first principles of the chant, we most heartily\ncommend this little volume to those for whose use it has been\nprepared, and have no doubt that it will find its way into all\nour seminaries and religious communities, and, we venture to hope\nas well, into our schools. To our Catholic youth the song of the\nchurch ought not to be an unintelligible jargon of sound. Let us\nadd, that the effort of the publisher in putting out a work of\nthis kind is deserving of the highest praise, and we trust will\nbe fully appreciated. The work bears the imprimatur of the Rt.\nRev. Bishop of Albany.\n\n ----\n\n{858}\n\n The Law Of Love And Love As A Law;\n or, Moral Science, Theoretical and Practical.\n By Mark Hopkins, D.D., LL.D., President of Williams College.\n New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.\n\nThis volume, albeit of moderate size and pretensions, would\nrequire an elaborate review to do it justice. The brief notice we\nbestow on it must not therefore be taken as a criterion of our\nestimate of its ability, or as a full and matured judgment upon\nits doctrines and arguments in detail or in reference to special\npoints. Its general scope and tenor of thought and reasoning, we\ncan say without hesitation, are in accordance with Catholic\ndoctrine in respect to those matters which are clearly defined,\nand in accordance with that system of moral philosophy which we\nregard as the soundest and most rational on matters which are\nopen to discussion. The tone and spirit of the work are elevated,\nits thought is strong, its style limpid and tranquil, its\nsentiments generally moderate and conservative. The author\ndemolishes the wretched system of utilitarianism and several\nother sophisms, by a few blows as quietly yet as effectually\ngiven as those of a polar bear. He establishes also the freedom\nof the will as the necessary condition of obligation, and thus\ncuts up Calvinism root and branch. We should be glad to see a\nmore distinct statement of the absolute right of God over his\ncreatures as the author and preserver and sovereign Lord of the\ncreation, as the basis of the obligation to obey his laws and\nthose of his delegates even in things indifferent in themselves.\nThis would in no wise conflict with the doctrine of the author\nthat the reason of the eternal law is situated not merely in the\nfree determination of the divine will, but chiefly and radically\nin the divine intelligence. The argument proving that all\nmorality is determined by the final cause, or the relation of\nhuman acts to the ultimate end of man and creation, is admirable.\nSo also is the resolution of all the ends and motives of creation\ninto the _amor entis_, which is really the dominant idea in\nthe author's philosophy and forms the character of his book. It\nis chiefly on account of this noble and elevated view that we\ntake occasion to commend it, and expect a very great good to be\ndone by it within the circle of the distinguished author's\ninfluence.\n\n ----\n\n Mental Science.\n A Compendium of Psychology and the History of Philosophy.\n Designed as a text-book for high-schools and colleges.\n By Alexander Bain, M.A., Professor in the\n University of Aberdeen, etc.\n New York: Appletons. 1868.\n\nWe are willing to believe that this book may contain much\nvaluable information in regard to the history of philosophy,\nphysiology, and psychological phenomena. But as a text-book of\n\"Mental Science,\" it is an utter absurdity, since its fundamental\nprinciple destroys all metaphysical certainty. It is the\nquintessence of the worst and most absurd opinions of the\nempirical school of Herbert Spencer and Mill, and therefore\nsimply a dose of intellectual strychnine. For the refutation of\nthis miscalled \"Mental Science,\" we refer to all the\nphilosophical articles of this magazine.\n\n----\n\n Light On The Last Things.\n By William B. Hayden.\n Publishing House of the New Jerusalem.\n 20 Cooper Union. 1869.\n\nWe are rather surprised not to see on the title-page of this\nbook, \"published by order of the archangel Gabriel.\" It gravely\ninforms us that the \"Last Judgment foretold by Daniel, and in the\nbook of Revelation, took place as described in that book, in the\nWorld of Spirits, in the year 1757, upon those who had\naccumulated there since the Lord's first appearing thus finishing\nthe dispensation in _hades_. The last judgment once\ninaugurated, continues to 'sit,' as expressed in Daniel; it\nconstantly proceeds hereafter, as explained in chapter vii.; the\nvast accumulation of the evil communities there will no more be\nallowed; it takes effect upon the multitudes who arise, at\nlongest, in a very few years.\" (P. 188.)\n{859}\nWe are glad to have authentic intelligence of such a gratifying\nnature. But this is not the best of it. \"This removed evil\ninfluences, for the most part, from the intermediate world,\nreplacing them with good influences. The heavens by the increase\nof numbers, and by an increased endowment of love and wisdom from\nthe Lord, became more powerful, and began immediately, as a\nconsequence, to shed down their influences more powerfully upon\nmankind, the church and the world. And they were moved nearer to\nmen by the Lord that they might effect this purpose.\" We shrewdly\nsuspect that our author has taken a moonlight ride on Mohammed's\n_Alborac_. Whoever has the curiosity to seek for a brief and\neasily readable summary of that fantastic system called\nSwedenborgianism will find it in this little volume. In point of\ncredibility and reasonableness the doctrine of the New Jerusalem\nChurch is about on a level with that of the Koran and the Book of\nMormon, though more elevated and pure in its morality. There was\nnever anything more ridiculous than the pretension of its adepts\nto be the true gnostics or spiritual men, and to look down on\nCatholics as the psychical or half carnal. Their doctrine of the\nincorporation of the Godhead is a crude and gross notion\nincompatible alike with the principles of reason and revelation,\nand rendering the formation of either a sound theology or a sound\nphilosophy impossible. The rest of their system is a tissue of\ndreams and fancies resting on nothing more solid than the\nimagination of Swedenborg, and without the slightest claim on the\nattention of any reasonable man.\n\n ----\n\n Life Of The Blessed Charles Spinola, S.J.,\n with a sketch of the other Japanese Martyrs beatified on the\n 9th of July, 1867.\n By Joseph Brockaert, S.J.\n New York. John G. Shea. 1869.\n\nThe subject of this memoir was a Jesuit missionary in Japan in\nthe seventeenth century, illustrious by birth but still more so\nby his virtue. Interwoven with the sketch of his life and\nmartyrdom are many incidents of the history of Christianity and\nits glorious confessors in Japan, and an interesting account of\nthe recent discovery of many thousands of Christians who have\npreserved the faith handed down by their ancestors from the days\nof persecution until the present time. The history of Japanese\nChristianity will compare with that of the first ages of the\nchurch, and is by itself a sufficient and overwhelming proof of\nthe divine truth of the Catholic religion. Such books as this\nmight be read with profit by every Catholic and by all who\nprofess the name of Christ.\n\n ----\n\n The Conscript: A Story of the French War of 1813.\n By MM. Erckmann-Chatrian.\n Translated from the twentieth Paris edition. With eight\n full-page illustrations.\n New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.\n\nThose of our readers who have already perused this story in our\npages, will doubtless be pleased to learn that it is at length\nissued in a permanent and separate form. The volume needs no\ncommendation from us; and we believe that many American readers\nwill find in its pages new ideas of war and its horrors, even\nalthough our own battle-fields are yet scarcely green.\n\n ----\n\n Outlines Of Composition.\n Designed to simplify and develop the principles\n of the Art by means of Exercises\n in the preparation of Essays, Debates,\n Lectures, and Orations. For the use\n of schools, colleges, and private students.\n By H. J. Zandee, and T. E. Howard, A.M.\n Boston: Published by Robert S. Davis & Co.\n New York: D. & J. Sadlier, and Oakley & Mason.\n Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co.\n Baltimore: Kelly & Piet.\n Chicago: S. C. Griggs & Co.\n St. Louis: Hendricks and Chittenden. 1869.\n\nWe take pleasure in noticing this Manual as an effort in the\nright direction. In all the experience of school-children there\nis nothing more difficult or perplexing than the art of\ncomposition; and few, even of the most diligent, attain to any\ndegree of ease in its exercise until maturer years have taught\nthem the lesson which these outlines are intended to convey,\nnamely, that knowledge precedes speech, and thought goes before\nexpression.\n{860}\nThe years which elapse while the young writer is learning \"what\nto say, and how to say it,\" will, in our view, be materially\ndiminished by the use of such works as this, and we are glad to\nsee, by its imprint, that publishers appreciate its value.\n\n ----\n\n Gray's School And Field Book Of Botany.\n Consisting of \"First Lessons in Botany,\"\n and \"Field, Forest, and Garden Botany,\"\n bound in one volume.\n By Asa Gray, Fisher Professor of Natural History in Harvard\n University.\n New York: Ivison, Phinney, Blakeman & Co.\n Chicago: S. C. Griggs & Co. 1869.\n\nThe works of Professor Gray have been too long before the public\nand enjoy already too wide a reputation to make necessary any\nextended notice of this new and collected edition. The volume now\nbefore us is a fine octavo of more than 600 pages, and contains\nboth the principles of the science, and the classification and\ndescription of various plants, to the number of nearly three\nthousand species. The illustrations are very numerous and of\nsuperior character; and the care which is displayed in the\nrevision of the work, and its adaptation to the latest\nadvancements of science, as well as the mechanical execution of\nthe book itself, recommend it to all lovers of \"the Field, the\nForest, and the Garden.\"\n\n ----\n\n Charlie Bell, The Waif Of Elm Island.\n By Rev. Elijah Kellogg, author of\n _Spartacus to the Gladiators_,\n _Good Old Times_, etc.\n Boston: Lee & Shepard. 1868. pp. 325.\n\nThis book will assuredly suit those for whose special pleasure it\nwas written. It abounds in stirring incident and thrilling\nadventure on sea and shore, which, though sometimes some what\nexaggerated, will not render it less acceptable to its juvenile\nreaders. A good moral lesson, although not made obtrusively\nprominent, is taught in the gratitude of the orphan Charlie to\nhis kind protectors. How true, too, and how boylike his remark to\nhis \"mother,\" on her expressing doubt as to his ability to\naccomplish a certain project, \"O mother! when a boy gets anything\nin his head, he is bound to do it, by hook or by crook.\"\n\n ----\n\nThe \"Catholic Publication Society\" will soon publish a new volume\nfor youth, entitled, _Glimpses of Pleasant Homes_, by the\nauthoress of the _Life of Mother McAuley_, etc. It will be\nbeautifully illustrated and got out in the best style of the art.\n\nThe same Society will also soon publish\n\n _Why People do not Believe; or, the Cause of Infidelity_,\n translated from the French of Mgr. Lapot, of Louvain\n University;\n\n _Not Yet: A Story of To-Day_, by Miss Oxenham;\n\n _Impressions of Spain_, by Lady Herbert, illustrated;\n\n _Tales for the Many; The Life of Father Ravignan_;\n\n Aubrey de Vere's _Irish Odes_;\n\n and the third series of\n _Illustrated Sunday-School Library_,\n will be ready in a few days.\n\n ----\n\n Books Received.\n\nThe Triumph Of Faith. A Lecture delivered in the hall of the\nCooper Institute, by the Rev. Thomas S. Preston, on the First\nAnniversary of the Church of the Epiphany, Sunday evening,\nJanuary 10, 1869.\nNew York: Robert Coddington, Publisher, 366 Bowery. 1869.\n\n ----\n\nReport Of The Secretary Of The Treasury On The State Of The\nFinances For The Year 1868. Washington: Government Printing\nOffice.\n\n ----\n\nTales of a Grandfather.\nBy Sir Walter Scott,\nBart. Second Series. A.D. 1603 to 1707.\nW. W. Swayne, New York and Brooklyn.","title":"The Catholic World, Vol. 08, October, 1868, to March, 1869.","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":499785}